The solemn prayer halted with a clink of coffee mugs, followed by satisfied 'mm's and 'ahh's from the consumers of the caffeinated beverage. A clunky black machine that huffed and puffed (sorta like the little blue engine) with the sole thought 'I think I can, I think I can!' embedded into it sat with content on the table that the six encircled, the source of their tranquility. We'll just call this machine God.

The sun blew up like an obnoxiously apparent yellow balloon as it hovered in the smudgy window of the room- a giggling ball of endless happiness and joy that Sehun wanted to take out with a formidable amount of fire extinguisher foam. He came to assume that a giant fire extinguisher must be mass produced somewhere (probably China), and since Choa had once agreed wholeheartedly on that claim, the 'fact' was forever imprinted in the younger's brain. Mind you, the blonde had been completely stoned at the point that he had vocally announced this, so. Yeah, not the brightest bulb. A muggle, as Jongin would comment ever so often. But that would only result in the younger calling him a slew of tumblr terms, most distinctively a peasant.

"God is great." a ravenette commented dreamily as he eyed up the machine, caressing the plastic surface with his hand, the other clasping the handle of his tangerine mug like it was his lifeline. "God bless." That's Kim Jongdae, age 20 and in his second year at Nam-Cho University for the performing arts, located in southeast Seoul. On his way to a vocal degree, he stands as the editor for a small in-school music paper as well as one of the many trolls that dot the campus- those creatures that hide in the shadows and wait until your guard is down to burn the out of you. He also worships God, fyi. Don’t ever mess with that thing or else he’ll dropkick your face to hell.

“Have you ever considered getting intimate with God, Jongdae?” Jinri chirped happily, looking over the rim of her cup with a pair of deviously sparkling chestnut eyes, a yellow notepad at the ready and glitter pen unsheathed. Jinri Choi, age 18 and in her first year at Nam-Cho. Theatrical arts proved to be her forte, but everyone knows that her specialty is gay . Being the founder and leader of the uni’s fanfiction club (yes, they have one. See where their priorities stand, would you?), she often finds herself walking into a classroom only to think ‘wow, I know more about gay than anyone else in this room.’, and has never failed to be correct. Ever.

Her offhand comment resulted in the other five spluttering and coughing on their coffee, resembling choking bush babies with the way their eyes widened unnaturally. Especially poor Jongdae, who was flailing his short limbs around erratically in a fashion much like a headless chicken as he choked on a mouthful of coffee.

“Why the would I-“

“Fanfiction purposes.” Jinri cut in with a smug grin, inching closer to the elder whilst wiggling her brows. “The girls would love that scenario!”

“What scenario?!”

“That you and Joonmyun get it on with like coffee play or something, duh!”

There was a silence. They all stared at the brunette as if she had grown a second head and a third (which she was blissfully unaware of as she waved her body like seaweed in her seat). Nobody dared to speak up until-

“That is sick, yo.” Junhong deadpanned. Choi Junhong, age 18 and a dance student at Nam-Cho. Nobody knows why he isn’t black. Seriously. Boy belongs in the ghetto in like New York or something, not the middle-class division of Seoul. Chanyeol even gave him a set of grillz for the first birthday of his the crew of dunces celebrated.

“How does that even work.” Luhan grimaced. Xi Luhan, age 22 and a senior at Nam-Cho majoring in theatrical arts. Just so you all know this before it becomes a problem, Luhan is the manliest. End of discussion. Jinri opened to reply only for Jongdae’s hand to slap over , said object smothering the younger’s face blindly.

“Shh. Don’t speak.” He cooed darkly. Eventually he just started to squish her very pliable cheeks into a plethora of ‘attractive faces’ (although you could’ve sworn that she resembled more of a derping llama) as Sehun tried to recoordinate himself after nearly dying on the coffee he snorted down roughly a minute prior. To make himself look cooler, he simply drank a total of seven creamer packets before burping quietly, forcing a smile onto his face. He won’t be speaking in this part so I might as well introduce him now. Oh Sehun, age 18 and a newbie at Nam-Cho who is pretty certain he’ll major in dance.

Finally, a comfortable silence came along (minus Jinri’s incoherent mumblings behind Jongdae's hand). And that stayed the same-

“Wow. That’s .”

Followed by five toes of shoes colliding directly with Joohee’s shin. Song Joohee, age 20 and the certified of the group who happens to be majoring in orchestra (playing the cello). Even as her head of blonde hair smashed into the table top from Junhong’s interference, God continued to brew the steaming pot of joe. God is a coffee machine by the way.

A dull thud followed by a drawling groan rang through the near-empty lecture hall, a mop of blonde hair flopping over the table like a dead furby. Park Choa, age 21 and resident pothead who happens to be majoring in vocal talent at Nam-Cho.

“Headdesking won’t help you scrape gum off the desks, miss Park.”  A calm voice teased. The blonde simply grunted in response. “Now now, use your words. Stop speaking in that dreadful teenage boy tongue, for God’s sake. Not even, for my sake.” The voice paused. “It’s about time the world starts saying ‘oh, for the love of Heechul’. Maybe, ‘oh Heechul’ or ‘oh for Heechul’s sake’. Hmm. I like that.”

“I’d rather pray to a hipster lemming than you, Mr. Kim.” A short brunette quipped from under one of the tables, his hand lazily scraping the cemented-on gum as he shot the teacher a snide smirk. Kim Minseok, age 22. Nobody actually knows what he does. Nor do they care. "Wait doesn't that mean they jumped off cliffs before it was cool?"

“Yah! Minseok! I HEARD THAT YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE .” And a pencil was thrown in Minseok’s direction, only to be caught by a redhead who was taking a leisurely stroll around the room. Kim Joonmyun, age 21 and a theatrical arts major. He tossed the pencil at the back of Choa’s head as he threw a kick at Minseok’s shin, sending a grin in Heechul’s direction.

“They’re idiots, sir.”

“I’M AWARE.” And an apple was flung at the previously silent blonde who was staring blankly into space at the back of the room. It hit home, smacking right into the center of the broad forehead belonging to the student. “PARK CHANYEOL. PAY THE ATTENTION. Good god, if I had half a mind, I would expel all of you right now!”

“All we did was drugs-“

“POT IS ILLEGAL YOU .”

“But like… it makes you happy, bro. Like… if everyone did pot… there’d be no wars.” A deep voice rumbled up from the throat of the boy who was the victim of the flying apple, a blank grin on his face. Park Chanyeol, age 20 and a rap major (so to say the vocal arts). Also a pothead like his cousin, Choa. Yet another projectile was aimed at him, flying from Minseok’s direction.

“If everyone did pot, the world would fall apart you ing idiot! Everyone would be following rainbows to find ing pots of gold and imagining unicorns jumping over the moon and EATING BACON-SCENTED SOAP LIKE YOU DID LAST NIGHT.” The short Korean snapped, aiming another pen at the dumbly giggling Chanyeol.

“Sir, why am I in here again-“ Joonmyun was cut off by an unidentified flying eraser that caused him to duck, Heechul’s condescending sniggers making him grimace.

“To tame these s.”

A heaved sigh.

“Great.”

“I’m still really confused-“

“SHH! THEY MIGHT HEAR YOU.” And a tanned hand slapped over the blonde’s mouth. The owner of the hand gave the tall Chinese man a pointed glare before pointing at the gaggle of people walking below them, index finger poking the slats of the vent. Kim Jongin, age 18 and a dance student. Although he’s not a pothead, he is by all means a potterhead. Seriously, boy thinks he’s a wizard.

“Do you have my wand, muggle?” the blonde shot him a face before holding up a tube of faux wood that Jongin took with a grand flourish of his hand. Wu Yifan, age 22 and also a rap major. He sadly was taken captive by the delusional Jongin, and therefor forced to accompany the younger in a grand plan to do-

“I still don’t understand what we’re doing, Jongin.”

“WE’RE VANQUISHING FIENDS.”

Yifan facepalmed.

“And how exactly are we going to do that?” his question resulted in a very creepy grin from Jongin, who rolled his wand around in his palms as he began to speak.

“How did we get you into this vent?”

“That’s actually a really good question because umm yeah I don’t know. How are we gonna get me out-“

“BY MAGIC!”

Yifan double facepalmed.

What was Jongin even planning on doing to those poor innocent students? I mean good lord, they looked completely harmless- wait. No. He saw it then. They were quietly chanting something. It sounded vaguely like-

“THEY'RE TAKING THE HOBBITS TO ISENGARD! THE HOBBITS THE HOBBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS TO ISENGARD! TO ISENGARD! THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS…”

Yifan then understood Jongin’s actions.

“Ok. Do your thing, magic boy.” Yifan couldn’t help but snicker a bit, as his Yu-Gi-Oh fanboy took hold of his mind. “Sorta like dark magical girl… oh lord no you’d look horrible in that getup-“

“THIS IS NOT YU-GI-OH. THIS IS HARRY POTTER, YIFAN. HARRY ING POTTER. I WILL NOT BE GETTING YOU OUT OF THIS VENT VIA KURIBOH YOU . I WILL USE MAGIC.”

And Yifan triple facepalmed.

{{ an }}

is like a triple facepalm with your foot too

o n o ;;

idek but omG I UPDATED YAY

tell me which character you guys like the most so far!

{{ please do subscribe and comment! }}