hangman, you look good.

hi dear phine <3

in all honesty, what this fic needs to grow is for me to actually fucking write it... but aside from that, i definitely need to find a place/thing to root this whole mind reading business in. when i'm writing a higher-concept anything, my instinct is to overexplain myself. but i've been told that i do that too much in my writing, so i instead swing the exact opposite way and don't explain anything whatsoever... you get the problem here, right?

thanks for the tags @welcometololaland @stars-of-nixie @tgmsunmontue! i've been totally MIA but i am at last free from finals! until my deferred exams in august, that is... but it's back to google docs until then!

a short list of my current wips:

teachers au (the current focus)

neighbours au

mind reading fic

reunion chapter 2 (my white whale)

sequel to my last drabble (my other, secondary white whale)

share a snippet, do the emoji game, or do both!

🌾 - what makes this fic grow? What do you need to make it grow?

🐄 - what trope do you feel like your milking in this particular fic?

⏳ - spend some time on the fic, this could be editing, or writing, or making a mood board (or social media post 🫣)

🔏 - have you experienced writer's block on this fic? Is it over or are you still trying to unlock it?

🚜 - write something completely unrelated to any of the WIPs but related to the emoji the tractor dropped off.

💩 - what do you like least about this WIP?

thanks for the tags @sunmontuewrites and @seresiinner! i missed last week and now i am posting slightly late today. well, it's the thought that counts! here is a teeny bit more of my teachers au. at this rate i'll be posting the whole thing in tiny snippets on tumblr...

“Gentlemen?”

A voice from the doorway cuts into their bickering; Vice Principal Bates, with an unimpressed look on his face. He clears his throat. 

“Simpson is asking for you.”

“Great,” Seresin mutters under his breath. Bradley just smirks, vindicated, and follows.

Simpson’s office door is propped open when they reach it. Reese sits outside the door, head hung in shame. Bradley forces himself to look away from him and enters. There stands Simpson, looking through the window to the field outside.

“Close the door behind you,” he says, still turned away. “And sit.” 

Bradley takes a seat in one of the poorly upholstered chairs, feeling the itch of his skin at being in a position he thought he’d escaped. Seresin shuts the door before joining him.

When Simpson finally turns around, mouth a straight line, Bradley knows it’s getting serious.

“I’ll have both of you know that both school and board do not tolerate this kind of behaviour,” he says. “Harassment of a staff member is not a matter we take lightly.”

“It wasn’t exactly harassment,” Bradley offers. “More like a dumb joke that went too far.”

Simpson quirks an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me it wasn’t… personally motivated?”

“If you’re asking if he did it because I’m gay, I don’t think so.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bradley can see Seresin choke on air. He pays it no mind.

“Look. It was stupid. Deeply, deeply stupid. But I don’t think he needs to be burnt at the stake. Detention and an apology would be nice. Maybe a good amount of volunteering. You know as well as I do that these kids can learn from their mistakes.”

Simpson nods, pursing his lips. “If you think that’s a suitable punishment.”

“I would rather he learn how to be a better person than feel like we’re punishing him for being a bad one.”

“Thank you, Bradshaw. I’ll have Bates start putting in some paperwork for that,” Simpson says, shuffling a stack of papers on his desk. “Onto our next issue.”

“Next… issue?” Seresin asks, the first Bradley’s heard from him since they were summoned to the office.

Simpson fixes them both with a look. “You two are… unacceptable. Staff members don’t need to be friends, but the personal business you bring to the workplace is egregious. I won’t have it.”

“Sir—” Bradley starts, but Simpson holds up a hand. 

“I’m sending you two to New York.”

and happy top gun-versary! thanks for the tags, @welcometololaland and @tgmsunmontue! actively posting this from the movie theatre seat as i wait for my imax screening of top gun (tgm was INCREDIBLE). here’s a bit (a lot) more of my ridiculous teachers au:

One small scheduling nightmare later, Billy Avalone has been told to put on a movie and Bob wordlessly handed Jake’s lesson plan.

“You’re making the poor guy teach? On his prep?” Bradley asks as they march Reese to the office.

“Relax,” Seresin says coolly. “It’s tenth-grade math. Not exactly rocket science. And you left Billy with some terrible DVD options, so, glass house.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had abysmal taste in movies.”

“You gave him a choice between Rosemary’s Baby and the live-action Cat in the Hat.”

Bradley doesn’t have time to think of a witty reply before they reach the office, where Reese stops at the door.

Seresin rolls his eyes. “I don’t have time for this, Reese. Get in there and reap what you’ve sown.”

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Seresin—”

“You think it’s me you should be apologizing to?”

Reese turns back to Bradley as he walks into the office, but doesn’t look him in the eyes.

Seresin sighs once the door is closed. “Well, show’s over. Time to relieve Bob of trig.”

“That’s it? Your hands are washed of your student’s insubordination?” Bradley asks incredulously.

Seresin points a finger at him. “First of all, don’t use big words at me just because you teach English. I also speak the language. Second, unless Simpson chooses to involve me, it’s no longer my business. I had nothing to do with this stunt.”

“It was probably your shit-talking that made that kid hate me so much. I don’t even know who he is,” Bradley says, crossing his arms. “And ‘insubordination’ is not a big word.”

“I don’t shit-talk!” Seresin says. “I’ll have you know I am strictly professional with my students. That includes not talking trash about my colleagues to their faces.”

“And with your other colleagues?”

“What do you mean?”

“Everybody knows you and Machado are gossip queens. Who’s to say our friend Reese didn’t overhear one of your bitching sessions and visually echo the sentiment?

“Don’t call me a queen. It’s offensive.”

“Offensive to whom?”

“Don’t ‘whom’ me. Offensive to me.”

“And that would be why, exactly?”

“Because I’m—”

“Gentlemen?”

A voice from the door cuts into their bickering.

His students nod, clearly more than a little shocked.

Bradley stalks towards the adjoining room, reaching it in a few strides. When he reaches the closed door, he doesn’t even think before banging against it. 

It squeaks open, and he’s met by Jake Seresin’s annoyed face—which smooths into a smirk as soon as he sees who’s responsible for the interruption.

“Bradshaw.”

“Let me in.”

Seresin quirks an eyebrow. “I have a class, Bradshaw,” he says, hushed but confident.

“I have permanent-marker graffiti on my whiteboard, Seresin.”

“And that’s my problem why?”

“Because it apparently came from this class.”

Bradley, unfortunately, relishes in the way Seresin’s face drops. He recovers quickly, though, swinging the door open to let Bradley in. The questioning looks from Seresin’s tenth-grade math students aren’t exactly welcoming. But that’s the least of Bradley’s worries right now.

Seresin clears his throat, closing the door behind Bradley and joining him at the front of the room. “Any of you know why Mr. Bradshaw has decided to pay us a visit?”

Silence. Much like Bradley’s own classroom. 

Bradley sighs exasperatedly. “Who here wrote ‘Bradshaw sucks balls’ in Sharpie on my whiteboard?”

Unsurprisingly, laughter rips through the room. A little shocked, a lot mocking. But Seresin lifts a hand, and they go silent. 

Bradley suddenly thinks he could learn a thing or two from that. He banishes the mortifying thought as quickly as it appears. 

“It’s not funny,” Seresin adds. “If none of you come forward, we’ll have to take this to the office.”

“We’re taking it to the office no matter what,” Bradley says.

“Not if we hear a confession.”

“Especially if we hear a confession!”

“Bradshaw, it’s not your job to decide how I discipline my students.”

“It is my job if it involves my name on a whiteboard!”

“Um. Mr. Seresin? Mr. Bradshaw?” comes a voice from the desks. 

thanks for the tag @welcometololaland! and thanks for cooking up this evil idea with me! here's a brief break from neighbours au for... well, whatever the hell this is. it's self-explanatory, really...

“So you’re telling me,” Hangman starts with a laugh.

Bradley scoffs. “I don’t want to hear it, Seresin.”

“You’re telling me,” Hangman continues, “that you’ve been loading up your spank bank with creep shots of my digital footprint?”

It’s ridiculous, really. Especially when he puts it like that. And Bradley knows. He knew the whole time. And yet…

Well, he did it anyway. 

Bradley feels his cheeks turn a traitorous crimson as he sputters for a reply. 

“Bold of you to assume I’ve been using them to jerk off,” is what he settles on. He plasters on a smirk, entirely for show. “Vain, really.”

Hangman barks out a laugh, making Bradley’s smile drop. “What’s the alternative? You saved a bunch of zoomed-in selfies of me just to look at? Because, you know, that’s weirder than jerking off to them.” He muses, suddenly. “There are other options, I guess. Dart boards, voodoo dolls, the whole hateful nine yards. Or do you have a shrine?” He gasps in mock surprise. “Bradley Bradshaw, do you have a murder board? Have you been stalking me to plot my demise?”

“Shut up,” Bradley mutters dumbly. “Fine. I’ve been using your photos to…” he gestures wildly. “You know.”

“Paint the ceiling? Choke the chicken? Do the five-knuckle shuffle?” Hangman asks, wiggling his eyebrows wildly. 

“You’re disgusting, man.”

“Oh, come on. There are better things to call me,” Hangman says with a wink.