THE MOST TERRIBLE THING EVER with an unexpected appearence by the Cullens...
SEM! SEEEEEEEEM! I found it! I found the high school AU fic!
(for those of you who don't know, this was posted on katesmannequin but was lost for a while when I deleted that account and thought I'd deleted the word document as well.)
I should've posted this during our birthday event, but ah well. Aaaand I'm posting it here because, well, I DON'T WANT ANYONE OTHER THAN YOU TYPO PEOPLE READING IT because I'm afraid other people won't get it.
S-so yeah, it's not completely typoverse-related, so if you want me to delete it I will. BUT Sem and Danielle are the ones who helped me write it and there's something very Typo-y about it, and we DID just have that event.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you...
The Worst FMA High School AU In The History of Ever (title pending)
DISCLAIMERS: This is a bad thing and I should feel bad and I am very sorry. There is also no characterization and things happen for no reason whatsoever. There are also sparkly vampires and gangsters with stupid names. Well, it is a bad!fic.
AND NONE OF THIS IS SERIOUS. PLEASE DON'T TAKE IT AS SUCH
... also, the word Brocculus came about when I decided that the word "homunculi" reminded me of "broccoli". DON'T JUDGE ME, OKAY?
If Edward Elric heard another story about how he'd been suspended for yelling at the chemistry teacher, he was going to bash his head in with an extremely heavy textbook.
"Honestly," he grumbled, "you'd think they could be a little more original..." If it wasn't the thing from the previous year about the physical exams and that comment the gym teacher had made about his height, it was the incident with the milkshakes in the lunchroom. "I mean, how is it my fault that they all write me with a height complex?" he asked, turning to look at his younger brother.
Generally, it's a little odd when someone comments on the way they are written. But not when you considered the type of writing Amestris's youngest state alchemist found himself starring in...
... a high school AU.
"It can't be that bad." Alphonse was, again, through no fault of his own, surrounded by cats. This happened sometimes. People tended to forget that Al had a personality outside of a love of small fluffy animals. It was a problem, really - he'd been late to class numerous times, because, really, it's hard to navigate crowded school hallways when, with every step you take, you're afraid you'll squish a poor, innocent kitten. "It's better than some of those other... story things you're in, the ones where-"
"Don't talk about those. Just don't."
Al shut up.
"Anyway, it's not my fault the lab blew up. It's Dr. Mustang's fault." Ed rolled his eyes. "If he hadn't been flirting with the principal, he wouldn't have written the wrong formula."
"He probably just... miscalculated."
"You don't just miscalculate something like that!"
Al sighed. He was used to dealing with his brother's temper tantrums angst (something all high school AU characters worth their salt had in spades), but that didn't mean it was any less of a headache to deal with.
"Hey! Ed!"
Oh. Winry. Well, at least there's no automail for her to yell at me abou- the last letter of this thoughts was cut off by something painful and metal hitting him straight on top of the head. "Oww! What the hell, Winry? What'd I do this time?"
"Nothing. It was expected, that's all."
"Expected-" (Here Ed had to force himself not to say a certain word that most high school AU writers, immature as they were, would probably censor with asterisks anyway.) "Who brings a wrench to high school? I hate this."
Winry raised an eyebrow. "At least you weren't stuck with these."
The "these" she referred to were a pair of very fluffy, very pink pom poms. With sparkles. Apparently blonde hair, a midriff-revealing top, and slightly less emo than the other characters equaled "horribly peppy cheerleader of doom, death, Paris Hilton, and destruction."
"It's not like the captain of the squad is much help, either. He is such a control freak sometimes, it's getting unbearable..."
"He?" Al asked.
"Mhm." Winry gestured vaguely with her pom pom towards the football field, where the rest of the cheerleaders were, as usual (it's not like the writers ever gave them anything else to do) practicing. Ed squinted, trying to make out just who that was yelling out orders at the squad - there was no way that was a guy. He - she? - was wearing the same sparkly pink uniform as the rest of them, not some sort of special outfit you'd think they'd give the only guy - or not? - on the squad.
And then the realization hit.
"AAAAAAAAAAAARGGHHHHHHH!" (Thud.)
"Does your brother usually faint in badfic?" Winry asked Al.
***
"I have to what?"
"It's only detention, Mr. Elric. And it's only for a month." The principal didn't even look up from her computer keyboard. "The English classroom, until five-thirty every afternoon and Saturdays. Try not to be late."
"You're just going to make me sit there alone for two and a half hours? Isn't that illegal?"
At this point, Principal Hawkeye stopped typing, closing her laptop with a sharp snap. "Of course not. There are... five other students who'll be there with you, I think. Now, you should probably get back to your classes."
This, Ed decided, was not going to be a good month for him at all.
***
The English classroom was empty when Ed got there, a few minutes late. Figures I'd be the only one to show up, he thought bitterly, when I didn't even do anything in the first place. Well, uh, not on purpose, anyway... He found a seat at the back of the room (as rebellious high schoolers are wont to do), sat down, and proceeded to spend the next five minutes glaring at the clock.
"Yo, whassup, dawg? Anyone hangin' in here?" The classroom door swung open and closed with a loud BANG behind... well... if you watched a lot of music videos in the late 90's, you probably saw the guys with the fake dreads and big, fake "gangsta" clothes, decked out in $5 bling?
The boy now standing in front of Ed was like that, but worse. Complete with something even more horrifying: parachute pants. Parachute pants that didn't exactly do the best job of being pants, judging from how low they were sagging. The obviously-fake rhinestone dollar sign around his neck wasn't helping the look, either.
"Greed, what the hell are you w-"
"Shhh! I'm not usin' that name anymore, bro. I'm Young Brocculus now. Totally attracts all the ladies."
Dread. Lots of it. Filling EVERY PARTICLE OF ED'S BODY.
"Is this detention?"
The moment Gr- er, Young Brocculus heard a female voice, he literally leapt out of his chair in excitement, then regained his GANGSTER COMPOSURE AND SMOOTHNESS (and all that good stuff). "Duh, dudette, and it's the place to be, if ya catch my-"
SHWAP.
"Get your hands off me. I'm not here to be groped by idiots."
"Damn..."
At this point, Ed was intent on trying to figure out a way to transmute a room of blabbering idiots into, well, something - a big silent blob, maybe, at least that would be quiet - when suddenly the room got a whole lot... sparklier.
"Damn, bro, my eyes!" Gre- um, Young Brocculus grabbed a pair of sunglasses from his pants pocket, shoving them on as quickly as he could.
"Yo, sorry, bro, that's my bro. Yo."
As Ed's eyes adjusted to the light... adjusted to the sparkles, really... he could make out the vague outlines of two tall-ish teenaged boys, one of whom was most definitely sparkling.
"Yo?" asked Gr - Young Brocculus.
"Yeah, that's my bro, bro, ya know, bro? His name's Edward Cullen and he's the subject of a million teenaged girls' fantasies, bro."
Edward stared. And sparkled. And after a few more moments of staring and sparkly, sat down near the window, nearly blinding everyone again.
"I'm Emmett, bro," Emmet bro'd, sitting down a few desks away from Gr - YOUNG BROCCULUS.
"Yo bro," the gangsta wannabe replied.
"The game."
"Bro game bro?"
"The yo bro game bro."
"Bro."
Screw it, I'm not even going to try and figure that out. Ed tried to turn his attention back to his math homework.
Which was when the classroom closet door open and Envy walked out, drying his hands with a towel that was, well, stained a very suspicious shade of blood red. He also seemed to be carrying an oddly heavy-looking cheerleading duffel bag.
Ed, Young Brocculus, Lust, and Emmett all turned in their seats to stare at him. (Not Edward. He was still, oddly enough, staring out the window. And sparkling.)
"Not again, bro!" Young Brocculus smacked himself in the face. "Don't you know how unsanitary that is?"
"Real gangsters don't say unsanitary. It's got too many syllables," pointed out Lust, aiming yet another glare in his direction.
"Well, maybe I'm not a real gangsta. Maybe I'm just the gangsta of lllluuuuurrrrv- OW OW OW OW SHIGGITY OW!"
Ed made a mental note: stay clear of girls with long fake fingernails in future. A mental note that was, unfortunately, cut short when his view of the clock at the front of the classroom was obstructed.
"Move your head, dammit! Stupid palm tree..."
Envy turned to look at him. "They don't have palm trees in Amestris, idiot. How would you know what one was?"
"Because we're in freaking Florida."
(for those of you who don't know, this was posted on katesmannequin but was lost for a while when I deleted that account and thought I'd deleted the word document as well.)
I should've posted this during our birthday event, but ah well. Aaaand I'm posting it here because, well, I DON'T WANT ANYONE OTHER THAN YOU TYPO PEOPLE READING IT because I'm afraid other people won't get it.
S-so yeah, it's not completely typoverse-related, so if you want me to delete it I will. BUT Sem and Danielle are the ones who helped me write it and there's something very Typo-y about it, and we DID just have that event.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you...
The Worst FMA High School AU In The History of Ever (title pending)
DISCLAIMERS: This is a bad thing and I should feel bad and I am very sorry. There is also no characterization and things happen for no reason whatsoever. There are also sparkly vampires and gangsters with stupid names. Well, it is a bad!fic.
AND NONE OF THIS IS SERIOUS. PLEASE DON'T TAKE IT AS SUCH
... also, the word Brocculus came about when I decided that the word "homunculi" reminded me of "broccoli". DON'T JUDGE ME, OKAY?
If Edward Elric heard another story about how he'd been suspended for yelling at the chemistry teacher, he was going to bash his head in with an extremely heavy textbook.
"Honestly," he grumbled, "you'd think they could be a little more original..." If it wasn't the thing from the previous year about the physical exams and that comment the gym teacher had made about his height, it was the incident with the milkshakes in the lunchroom. "I mean, how is it my fault that they all write me with a height complex?" he asked, turning to look at his younger brother.
Generally, it's a little odd when someone comments on the way they are written. But not when you considered the type of writing Amestris's youngest state alchemist found himself starring in...
... a high school AU.
"It can't be that bad." Alphonse was, again, through no fault of his own, surrounded by cats. This happened sometimes. People tended to forget that Al had a personality outside of a love of small fluffy animals. It was a problem, really - he'd been late to class numerous times, because, really, it's hard to navigate crowded school hallways when, with every step you take, you're afraid you'll squish a poor, innocent kitten. "It's better than some of those other... story things you're in, the ones where-"
"Don't talk about those. Just don't."
Al shut up.
"Anyway, it's not my fault the lab blew up. It's Dr. Mustang's fault." Ed rolled his eyes. "If he hadn't been flirting with the principal, he wouldn't have written the wrong formula."
"He probably just... miscalculated."
"You don't just miscalculate something like that!"
Al sighed. He was used to dealing with his brother's temper tantrums angst (something all high school AU characters worth their salt had in spades), but that didn't mean it was any less of a headache to deal with.
"Hey! Ed!"
Oh. Winry. Well, at least there's no automail for her to yell at me abou- the last letter of this thoughts was cut off by something painful and metal hitting him straight on top of the head. "Oww! What the hell, Winry? What'd I do this time?"
"Nothing. It was expected, that's all."
"Expected-" (Here Ed had to force himself not to say a certain word that most high school AU writers, immature as they were, would probably censor with asterisks anyway.) "Who brings a wrench to high school? I hate this."
Winry raised an eyebrow. "At least you weren't stuck with these."
The "these" she referred to were a pair of very fluffy, very pink pom poms. With sparkles. Apparently blonde hair, a midriff-revealing top, and slightly less emo than the other characters equaled "horribly peppy cheerleader of doom, death, Paris Hilton, and destruction."
"It's not like the captain of the squad is much help, either. He is such a control freak sometimes, it's getting unbearable..."
"He?" Al asked.
"Mhm." Winry gestured vaguely with her pom pom towards the football field, where the rest of the cheerleaders were, as usual (it's not like the writers ever gave them anything else to do) practicing. Ed squinted, trying to make out just who that was yelling out orders at the squad - there was no way that was a guy. He - she? - was wearing the same sparkly pink uniform as the rest of them, not some sort of special outfit you'd think they'd give the only guy - or not? - on the squad.
And then the realization hit.
"AAAAAAAAAAAARGGHHHHHHH!" (Thud.)
"Does your brother usually faint in badfic?" Winry asked Al.
***
"I have to what?"
"It's only detention, Mr. Elric. And it's only for a month." The principal didn't even look up from her computer keyboard. "The English classroom, until five-thirty every afternoon and Saturdays. Try not to be late."
"You're just going to make me sit there alone for two and a half hours? Isn't that illegal?"
At this point, Principal Hawkeye stopped typing, closing her laptop with a sharp snap. "Of course not. There are... five other students who'll be there with you, I think. Now, you should probably get back to your classes."
This, Ed decided, was not going to be a good month for him at all.
***
The English classroom was empty when Ed got there, a few minutes late. Figures I'd be the only one to show up, he thought bitterly, when I didn't even do anything in the first place. Well, uh, not on purpose, anyway... He found a seat at the back of the room (as rebellious high schoolers are wont to do), sat down, and proceeded to spend the next five minutes glaring at the clock.
"Yo, whassup, dawg? Anyone hangin' in here?" The classroom door swung open and closed with a loud BANG behind... well... if you watched a lot of music videos in the late 90's, you probably saw the guys with the fake dreads and big, fake "gangsta" clothes, decked out in $5 bling?
The boy now standing in front of Ed was like that, but worse. Complete with something even more horrifying: parachute pants. Parachute pants that didn't exactly do the best job of being pants, judging from how low they were sagging. The obviously-fake rhinestone dollar sign around his neck wasn't helping the look, either.
"Greed, what the hell are you w-"
"Shhh! I'm not usin' that name anymore, bro. I'm Young Brocculus now. Totally attracts all the ladies."
Dread. Lots of it. Filling EVERY PARTICLE OF ED'S BODY.
"Is this detention?"
The moment Gr- er, Young Brocculus heard a female voice, he literally leapt out of his chair in excitement, then regained his GANGSTER COMPOSURE AND SMOOTHNESS (and all that good stuff). "Duh, dudette, and it's the place to be, if ya catch my-"
SHWAP.
"Get your hands off me. I'm not here to be groped by idiots."
"Damn..."
At this point, Ed was intent on trying to figure out a way to transmute a room of blabbering idiots into, well, something - a big silent blob, maybe, at least that would be quiet - when suddenly the room got a whole lot... sparklier.
"Damn, bro, my eyes!" Gre- um, Young Brocculus grabbed a pair of sunglasses from his pants pocket, shoving them on as quickly as he could.
"Yo, sorry, bro, that's my bro. Yo."
As Ed's eyes adjusted to the light... adjusted to the sparkles, really... he could make out the vague outlines of two tall-ish teenaged boys, one of whom was most definitely sparkling.
"Yo?" asked Gr - Young Brocculus.
"Yeah, that's my bro, bro, ya know, bro? His name's Edward Cullen and he's the subject of a million teenaged girls' fantasies, bro."
Edward stared. And sparkled. And after a few more moments of staring and sparkly, sat down near the window, nearly blinding everyone again.
"I'm Emmett, bro," Emmet bro'd, sitting down a few desks away from Gr - YOUNG BROCCULUS.
"Yo bro," the gangsta wannabe replied.
"The game."
"Bro game bro?"
"The yo bro game bro."
"Bro."
Screw it, I'm not even going to try and figure that out. Ed tried to turn his attention back to his math homework.
Which was when the classroom closet door open and Envy walked out, drying his hands with a towel that was, well, stained a very suspicious shade of blood red. He also seemed to be carrying an oddly heavy-looking cheerleading duffel bag.
Ed, Young Brocculus, Lust, and Emmett all turned in their seats to stare at him. (Not Edward. He was still, oddly enough, staring out the window. And sparkling.)
"Not again, bro!" Young Brocculus smacked himself in the face. "Don't you know how unsanitary that is?"
"Real gangsters don't say unsanitary. It's got too many syllables," pointed out Lust, aiming yet another glare in his direction.
"Well, maybe I'm not a real gangsta. Maybe I'm just the gangsta of lllluuuuurrrrv- OW OW OW OW SHIGGITY OW!"
Ed made a mental note: stay clear of girls with long fake fingernails in future. A mental note that was, unfortunately, cut short when his view of the clock at the front of the classroom was obstructed.
"Move your head, dammit! Stupid palm tree..."
Envy turned to look at him. "They don't have palm trees in Amestris, idiot. How would you know what one was?"
"Because we're in freaking Florida."