Adventures at Titan High

A Shingeki no Kyojin fanfiction

Based on the short film by Vandetta Cosplay Group

Usual disclaimer information: I don't own SNK/Attack on Titan, in whole or in part. Don't sue me, I don't have any money anyway. The original plot and 99.9% of the dialogue is credited to Vandetta Cosplay Group. The only 0.01% is creative liberty. Used with permission.

A.N.: I do not usually write humorous fanfictions, as I tend to have a much easier time expressing myself through drama/angst/tragedy/etc. This genre is new for me, so I'm hoping this story will represent Vandetta's video as well as 'Whiskey Lullaby' did. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but please don't be an ass about it.

Chapter One: "I'm gonna ride you so hard!"

It had snowed at some point in the night. There had been the threat of snowfall for weeks now, but much the same as the stripper instills false hope in the heads of her customers, the sky had teased mercilessly without bothering to actually put out. It was only while the world slept beneath her that she finally relented, releasing the load she had stubbornly sat on so that everyone woke up to a cold, wet, slippery mess.

… damn, that was good. I could be a poet. Well, maybe not a poet. But definitely a writer. An erotic novel writer.

Despite the snowfall of nearly two feet, no one seems to find it suiting that school closes today. I did the best I could to beg and plead with my mother to allow me to stay inside where it was warm, under the covers and away from the threat of frostbitten fingers and toes. She had turned a deaf ear to my pleas and practically ejected me out of the house by the seat of my pants, and her smile had clearly told me that if she received another phone call from Professor however-you-say-his-name about my conduct in class, death by frostbite would be the least of my concerns.

I suppose this is the part where I should introduce myself. Hi! I'm Eren Yeager. I'm fifteen years old, and I go to Titan High with my friends. Today, just like every other day, I meet up with them at the edge of school campus, and we all walk towards building 9B like prisoners being marched towards their last meal before meeting with the peloton d'exécution. That's French for firing squad, in case you didn't know.

Ok, before I continue, I should clarify that these aren't all my friends! I have, like, two more! Their names are Connie and Mikasa, but Mikasa is sick and Connie doesn't have French class. Lucky him.

Oh, did I say that we're on our way to French class? Yeah, okay, we are! At the head of our group is my BFF, Armin. He is really smart and a good comrade in battle (you can't hear it, but I just did the best Russian accent ever in my head).He's got this, um… fixation though. For the past three years, he's been trying to get his OTP consists of Jean here, who is this horse-faced prick strutting around with Miley Cyrus' newest Wrecking Ball of a single blasting from his headphones. And can we talk about that God-awful dye job on his head, while we're at it? After all, what kind of professional would so royally fuck up such an easy job? It starts out this strange shade of strawberry blond, but then it tapers down into this dark brown that looks like whoever was working on it ran out of product and couldn't be fucked to get more. He says it's professionally done and looks amazing, but he's the only one who believes that story. Jean's an asshole, by the way, trying to act all cool, but everyone can tell he's totally in love with Marco. The boy with the freckles, walking next to Armin, is Marco. He's nice, but oblivious. Everyone can see that Jean has a thing for Marco.

Well, everyone except for Marco, anyway.

But getting back on track…

Last, but not least, the girl walking next to Asshole is Sasha. She's… um… uh… you know, it's kind of hard to describe Sasha when I'm watching her look down into the top of her sweater and smile like that. She looks like she's either checking out her own boobs or making sure whatever secret she's concealing under that knitted green top is still there waiting for her. It's actually a little creepy. If I didn't know any better, I would say I just saw something glowing in there.

Knowing Sasha, it's probably got something to do with food. That girl could eat an entire family of football players out of house and home.

… she's nice. Sasha is nice. And that's… whatever she's doing, it's not what it looks like.

So! To recap… you've met Armin, Asshole, Marco, and Sasha. So, as I was saying, yeah, she…

… she…

There is a flash of blue in the corner of my eye, and I instinctively turn my head to see what's caught my attention. Sticking up out of the snow, a dark splotch on the untouched virgin snow, is what appears to be a sphere made of durable plastic. As my gaze settles on it fully, it's as though the heavens open and the Angels themselves begin to sing to me. They call my name, their voices like those of the sirens that enticed the sailors to crash their boats on the rocks in Greek mythology (for the record, I only know that because Armin helped me study for our Mythology final). The beautiful melody surrounds me, coiling unseen fingers around my body and enticing me to move closer. Ride me, Eren… take me in your arms and ride me so, so hard…

… whoooaaa…

"E-Eren? Eren, are you coming? … Eren?"

In an instant, the song of the angels suddenly turns dark and sinister. It is now the howling of demons I hear echoing in my head. The true nature of the beast comes out, grinning at me sadistically. I still have no idea what this thing actually is, but it's clearly telling me, "you can't take me on, because you have to go to French class and spend your day with Professor Rivalle…". The serene blue turns blood red before my eyes, and I feel myself swallow heavily as my gaze narrow and my fist clenches at my side. Whatever this thing is, I will dominate it.

"… I'm gonna ride you so hard…" I whisper, and it's a promise I intend to keep.

Armin glances over at Marco just as I turn to look at them once more. Marco simply shrugs his shoulders. Quite clearly, neither of them understands the unspoken challenge that has been placed before me.

"… okay…" Armin mutters, "we'll head to class without you, then."

Shit. If I'm late, Professor whatever-his-name-is will slaughter me. I glance back at my mortal enemy once more and then trot through the snow to catch up with my friends. Oh, it was on. As soon as French class was over, I was going to own that thing.

TBC