Title: An Unfortunate Account of FuturisticVampire's Life So Far

Summary: A narration of my life, except dramatized, parodized, and blown so far out of proportion it's unrecognizable. Rated T for suggestive themes, cursing, depression disguised as humour, and far too many beans to be ethical.

Full Summary: So, obvs this is a narration of my real life, so people's names won't be their real names, they'll be aliases or their discord name or anything else. Except for mackenzie because i hate her, so I named her Boobs Mackenzie because she's got massive knockers. Really the only good thing about her at all. Cuz she's a BITCH-

And I couldn't decide how to write this (pov, tense), so i've just decided to make the very professional decision to do whatever i want for the chapter but i wont switch mid chapter so it doesnt get confusing.

Everything here is written by me except for Zel and I co-wrote our scenes together she wrote her own actions and dialogue

Day One:: FuturisticVampire


"okAY holy god fuck I'm awake!" Vamp screamed as she smacked the alarm clock. "...Lmao just kidding." She set another alarm for fifteen minutes later and promptly passed out again.

"Mrrow." The kitty jumped onto the bed and patted her face.

"Not now, Kitty."

"Mrrow." Oh gosh, he was just so damn adorable! And probably hungry.

"Okay, fucking fine." She dragged herself out of her bed by her fingernails and rolled off.


"Oh fuck, sorry Kitty are you okay?"


"Ah, what's fer breakfast today, Jim?" Vamp adjusted her glasses, looking over the array of gourmet foods laid out for breakfast.

"The same as every Friday," James said flatly from the counter, not at all impressed with her fabulous outfit.

"Oh, Fridays, my favorite!" she exclaimed. Her ten metal bracelets clattered as she reached for a tray. "Stale bagels and overripe bananas!" She skipped to where the cartons of cardboard-tasting apple juice sat, the cream cheese on her bagel rubbing off onto her totally awesome Avenged Sevenfold shirt. That's a good band, right?

She placed a juice carton onto her tray, then another. "So what's for breakfast tomorrow, James, my man?" She opened her purse and stuffed three more inside of it.

He watched her with a slight cringe in his eyes. "...Tomorrow's Saturday."

"Don't act dumb with me." She shoved one down her shirt. "I know all you staff members all eat here on Saturdays."

"Where'd you hear that from?" asked James, twisting open a jug of bleach.

"My main news source, The Onion." She looked back at him. "Say, Jim, do ya think these juice cartons make my boobs look weird?"

James could not answer, for he was busy chugging bleach.

"Oh, good, cuz I was worried about it." She waved at the fallen body of the lunchman. "Thanks, Jim!"

A weak thumbs up was the only reply.

Things were quiet as ever out in the cafeteria. In the middle of the room, two rows of table had been turned onto their sides. A group of students (and some teachers) took cover behind each of them, bombing milk cartons at the other side. One kid, feeling brave, reached into the leg of his pants and unclasped the carton he'd been saving for weeks for a chance like this. Saying a quick prayer, he stood.

"For the greater good of God!" he screamed, and brought back his arm in preparation for the mightiest throw of his life.

"N00B!" someone from the other side called, he and was hit in the face with the most fatal of weapons: the dreaded, extremely rare grape juice carton.

Losing grip of his milk, the brave kid fell to the floor.

"Paramedics!" the girl next to him screamed, holding his convulsing body. "We need the paramedics!"

Another girl, red cross painted onto her shirt with jelly, slithered up to them on her back. "What seems to be the problem, ma'am?"

"He needs help!" she cried frantically, tears smudging the war paint around her eyes. "He's been hit with grape juice! He needs help immediately! Since when are those found here anyway?" The girl broke into sobs, unable to continue.

The paramedic bent her back and sniffed the boy. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm afraid he's already dead."

"What? But he's still moving! He just said my name!"

"Death twitch."

The girl tried to protest, but the medic was already slithering away.

In the corner where the two rows of windows merged, tables had been moved out of the way, and a few kids were playing frisbee with one of the bagels.

"Hey, Frank!" a teacher called the name of one of the players.

"Yes?" He turned to the teacher, and the bagel hit him square in the head with a loud thwump! There was no hope for him; he was out instantly.

Everyone was silent, staring at the person who had thrown it. He froze under their gazes, and then jumped out the window. Unfortunately, jumping out even first-story windows is not as easy as Mission Impossible makes it out to be. Everyone resumed their daily activities as the kid screamed in pain from having broken glass penetrate his person.

"But I didn't give consent!" he wailed.

In front of the bathroom, a delinquent wearing a Disturbed hoodie slouched against the wall. That's a good band, right?

Anyways, he looked shady, staring with dark eyes the overweight kid chugging an entire two-litre bottle of pineapple soda. No one really cared about him, though, not until he pulled out the forbidden item. An item so evil, so dangerous, that I wonder if it's even legal to type out its name. If it's legal, then is it ethical? I suppose I could just suck it up, but without moral, then what are we but naked chimps who don't let even sick and starving chimps enter our circle and murder our young because god forbid they be from a different jungle than ours?

Well, I guess after all this hype I have no choice.

The item he pulled
was a vape.

FBI burst in through the ceilings, airlifting the kid away into the darkest dungeon of solitary confinement the good ol' government has to offer.


"FuturisticVampire, if you're not going to do your homework then the least you can do is write it down when I go over it."

Vamp looked up slowly from her Yugioh manga, body shot with terror. "FuturisticVampire?" she gave a small, contemptuous laugh and removed her sunglasses with shaking hands. "I haven't heard that name in years."

Monsieur Cuntinghann was not amused. The tips of his unfortunate goatee brushed the toes of his shoes when he spoke. "FuturisticVampire, not only are you wearing three pairs of sunglasses and a fedora, you are reading yaoi in the sacred temple that is the Classroom of Trigonometry."

Now, the Reader may now be asking themselves why in god's name would Mister Bitchster refer to Yugioh as yaoi? And to that question, Vamp has only one answer:


Vamp suddenly stood, sunglasses both backwards and forwards facing launching off her face. The chair she sat in would have clattered dramatically to the floor, but she forgot that the desk and chair were connected. So, instead, she was the one clattering dramatically to the floor. However, even on the floor, she retained her dramatic composure of awesomeness.

"Fuck Trig!" she announced.

There was a collective gasp in the classroom. Everyone seemed to be on edge waiting for this person, obviously an intellectual, to continue their eloquent speech. Aka massive roast session.

Still on the ground, and forgetting that that meant her gloves would be dirty, her lips met her thumbnail. "I bite my thumb at thee, ser! And spread butter on your stupid bald head!"

She stood, wiping her now wet glove on Boobs Mackenzie's shirt. She was too awestruck by the majesty of Vamp to retaliate.

Vamp retrieved her manga from the ground, stomped on her trig homework, and moonwalked out of the classroom. Or at least, she attempted to. She'd forgotten that closed doors exist.


Because she had left everything in Sir Complains A Lot's classroom and there was no way she was going back there after her elegant retreat, she was embarrassingly underprepared for English class.

"Everyone please get your notes out!" Rikhc asked. Of course, being the emo bureaucrat he was, with forty years of teaching and a grand total of three absences on his Black Belt of English Major, he didn't really say that. What he said was "Everyone should have their notes out by now, so make sure you write this down." The aforementioned question had been implied.

Saying a quick prayer for the Japanese Gods of Otakus to forgive her, Vamp prepared the ink and quill she always kept on her person. Where on her person, even she wasn't sure. It isn't like they make womens' pockets to be able to carry, yknow, anything. But, she managed.

Taking a shuddering breath, she wrote down the nuances of synechdoche and metonymy on Seto Kaiba's lamenting face.

She was promptly struck by the knife of a thousand generations of Asian Disapproval. Holding back tears, disowned from the complex, aristocratic society of otaku, she wrote one last phrase before passing out.

"There seems to be no intelligible way to pronounce anadiplosis."


One would think the school officials would send a student home or to the hospital after passing out. However, Chronic Weeb Distress (CWD) is not recognized as a real illness in most nations.

Probably the worst part of Vamp's day was ninth bell economics. She was not very interested in hearing her bald teacher talk about the expensive shampoo he shares with his wife. In fact, she had reason to believe that he was not married to a wife at all. From his descriptions of Mrs. Baldy, she just seemed like another bald football fanatic like everyone else Mr. Baldy speaks with. Speaking of everyone that Mr. Baldy spoke with, they were all huddled in front of the door, showing off each other's tattoos of their high school sports teams on their masculine biceps.

Three things that people who peaked in high school do:

1.) Shave their heads to look manly instead of admit to balding early
2.) Become sports coaches
3.) Get tattoos of college football mascots

Fourth bell economics, however, was very different from ninth bell economics. After attempting seppuku with a feathered quill, Vamp was very happy to meet her bestest friend in fourth bell econ.

Unfortunately, bursting dramatically through the door, the first person she made eye contact with was not that person. It was instead Vamp's least favorite person, Culas Saecar.

"Oh shit, awkward." She attempted to back out the door, but since she was not moonwalking, it did not look cool. Also, since she was walking backwards, she didn't notice that she was on a collision course with the gaggle of football nerds until she'd gotten a concussion on their extreme muscle.

She fixed her fedora and her cowboy hat.

"I'm sorry, sir." She bowed deeply in apology. However, they didn't seem to understand, looking at her in confusion. She reminded herself that heathens don't bow.

"Oh, uh.." She squatted and flexed. "PROTEIN!"

They all nodded in understanding. "Protein."

Still squatted in case they were watching, Vamp approached her breasted friend, the Lady Zel of Gehenna. Her seat was in between Zel and her other, non-breasted friend, Thoams. She didn't bother him because he seemed very interested in the gay hentai he was watching.

"How do you feel about Hugh Janus?" Zel was also very interested in the hentai.

"I think one would be very useful for Thoams' extracurricular activities." Vamp was even more interested.

"Sorry, no- I mean my brother. Remember his first name is Hugh, and…" She threw a crumpled paper to Thoams' screen. "well...you know the rest."

"I didn't know that your brother was also a homosexual."

"Well, I didn't know either. I guess we should ask Thoams to send him some of that hentai. Hey, did you see Theeku Nieeeku?"

"No, but I'm told he looks EXTRA THICC today."

"I heard he got a violin stuck in his Thiccness last night. I guess he could probably use less hentai in his daily diet. Or maybe he just needs to apologize to the football nerds more often."

"I think he wanted to see if his massive buttcheeks could play it as well as his highly skilled fingers can."

"Maybe that could be a new instrument. Advanced Buttcheek Clapping."

"PROTEIN!" Everyone opened their notes at Mr. Baldy's command.

Secretly, Vamp could have learned about the free market without Neeku's buttcheeks clapping in the background. In fact, she probably would have preferred it. However, Neek had chosen that moment to burst into the classroom.

"Mr. Baldy, I have an urgent announcement!" he shouted through pants. Vamp wondered how anyone could make themselves heard through so many layers of denim.


"I can play piano with my buttcheeks!" Neeeku turned, and there was indeed a piano in between his buttcheeks.

If Vamp were to describe in detail the images that followed, she would have to rate this story M instead of T.

"Holy shit, that's so hot." Thoams was no longer a virgin by the time it had ended.


"I wonder how much hentai it takes to make you want to put a piano in your butt. I mean, you've got him beat in your methods of juice storage. Maybe he was jelly." Now in the privacy of the crowded hallways, Zel could speak freely.

"Well, I thought it was magnificent." Vamp reached into Zel's hair, where she had placed several cartons of apple juice the morning before.

"How many more pairs of boots do you think I can wear?" Zel looked curiously at her feet. "I think I have seven on right now."

Vamp lifted Zel's right foot off the ground and inspected it, still walking. "You have a hole in your sock."

"Oh, My BEANS!" Zel was mortified. "I need to hide my feet from that creepy kid, Bob. You know how he gets with feet."

"He'll trade you pictures of his eyelashes for pictures of feet. Although-" She flicked Zel's massive bozangas. "You must have pretty masculine feet if Bob is into them."

"I'm more into pictures of teeth. Eyelashes weird me out."

"He doesn't have fangs, Zel." Vamp remembered that Zel's boots were still in her hand and then promptly forgot again. Instead of letting go, she took her left foot, too.

"Then I don't want anything to do with him. Hmph." She smacked Vamp's hand off her feet.

"I don't have fangs, either," Vamp grimly pointed out.

"Well, you have enough sunglasses that I can forgive you."

It was true that three of Vamp's sunglasses were stuck in the Hell that is her first bell classroom. However, she had plenty of spares, and was now wearing five pairs instead of three to assert her dominance over Monsieur Cuntinghann's goatee.

"Well." Zel stopped in front of her fifth period classroom. It was now her turn to have Rihckk as a teacher, "See you next bell."

Vamp clasped her hands in front of her and bowed. "Sayonara," she spoke with utmost seriousness.

Zel had already gone into the classroom, and Vamp was bowing at Culas Saecar.


Vamp has a lot of least favorite things simply because she cannot choose between which terrible part of life she hates the most. She has the same issue with her favorite things. She could, however, say with confidence that the lunch line was the worst part of her day.

Or at least, it used to be.

"SPoOkY Italian Sausages," Kuruisutin-chan read from the menu. "Don't these people realize that it's November?" Without looking, Kuru ducked under a flying sausage, because she's smooth like that.

"They're probably leftover from Halloween." Vamp did not duck under a retaliating breadstick, and it hit her. She didn't remain still because she hadn't sensed it, she had done it because if she had avoided it, it would have hit Kuru-tan.

"Nobody wants to eat sausages," Kuru-tan groaned.

Vamp could have made a comment about all the kinds of sausages one could eat, but she digressed.

Behind the counter, there was a body drawn of white chalk on the floor. Vamp recalled it being the place that James had collapsed in that morning, and felt it strange. But, again, she digressed.

The great thing about being Vamp was that she could budge in line where ever she wanted to. It was both a skill and a recognized resignation of the others in the line. Being a friend of Vamp's, Kuru could have done so as well, but being the independent and awesome person that she was, she felt no need. Also, because Vamp was Vamp, she could balance chocolate bars on her fedora. But that detail was not relevant.

Vamp did not actually have a lunch bell, getting lunch was just a convenient excuse to walk with Kuru-chan before AP European History. Unfortunately, the only thing that had ever come from her copious displays of affection on these walks was a cheek stroke, once. Because Kuru-chan's hand was cold. But if Vamp was anything, it was an optimistic soul. Maybe just a cheek stroke wasn't all that Kuru-tan and her were fated to be.

Vamp had chosen the very tactful approach of sitting in front of Kuru in class. Watching the most fascinating documentary on the Protestant Reformation she'd ever seen in her life, she slouched in her chair. Unfortunately, her leather boots had no traction, and the floor was dusty enough to be incredibly slippery. Unable to stop herself and not caring either way, she slid so far down that her back was lying on the seat of the chair. Since she couldn't see the screen very well from there (she didn't want to miss Martin Luther's riveting speech about the 95 theses, after all), she prepared to roll off the chair and reset herself. However, she was stopped by the feeling of a foot on her shoulder. She froze.

Kuru's feet were on her shoulders.

This must be what sex feels like.

However, Vamp's friend, Caliburn, apparently had a gaydar of absolutely zero percent efficiency. Woefully failing to read into the homoerotica of the situation, he placed his shoe on Vamp's leg.



It wasn't a proper orchestra rehearsal until at least half of the ensemble was horny. Usually, Vamp liked to see to it that that was the case, but of all people, fucking Chandrew decided to take that liberty today.

Unfortunately, his way of going about it was fidget spinner tricks on an improvised stripper pole of plastic chairs.

"Oh thank god. I've needed to sit down since third bell," Nikku sighed. The column of chairs was tall enough to reach the ceiling, but the Theekness of the Neek had no issue reaching the topmost chair. It broke beneath him, and the Thiccness plummeted to the ground and squashed Chandrew beneath it.

Chandrew groaned in pain, squirming like a squashed bug. Zel just laughed from the background.

Secretly, Vamp had been impressed by Chandrew's ability to dance on a fidget spinner. However, she had not been aroused.

Clearing their throats, Zel and Vamp began reading the hottest of Mephisto X Shiro Blue Exorcist fanfictions.

"God, I am so pregnant right now," Vamp muttered when they had finished.

"Beans, I am just about giving birth from that one," Zel mumbled in agreement. Although it wasn't her ordinary vampire fetish, Mephisto's attractiveness was too great.

"Beans." Although Heko only ever got off on Shawn Medez fanfiction, the power of Mephisto was so arousing that even she was affected.

"Holusihy!" Rikhc exclaimed. He was very emo, and was not sure why he had come into the orchestra room. Thus, he promptly left while walking on his head.

Alyali was a very good orchestra teacher. She scarcely did much other than shout wordless shouts of ecstasy, but they were very helpful shouts. She flew into the orchestra room at a velocity high enough to send her through the door into her office.

The Jaws music played in the background.

"This is my favorite song." Heko squatted to the music. Zel dabbed in the background like a true edgelord. Vamp did not like Jaws, so she did not dance.

Everyone penguined waddled in an orderly fashion to their seats. As one can imagine, it took a very long time. Especially for Chandrew, after his encounter with Nikku's nuclear thikk.

"AAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Alialy eloquently murmured. Everyone nodded in consent, taking out the correct music. Vamp, for one, had no fucking clue what she was trying to say. She had been only doing what her stand partner did for years.

And, well, Zel was always confused.

Of course, since Vamp was having the best day ever, it only got better when the piece they were playing was fucking Sleigh Ride. It was probably her favorite piece she'd ever played, considering the only two notes she played in the entire two pages was a goddamn major fucking seventh.

What a work of genius.

Secretly, Vamp suspected that the decision to play this exact piece every single goddamn year for the Christmas concert was based on the decision to save Alyali the pain of choosing a different one every year.

Playing through this grand symphony of boring convenience, Vamp was suddenly disgusted by a blaring G-sharp in the midst of the most aggressively B-flat major chord in history. Throwing caution to the wind, she began to play the most punk song she's ever heard: Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas is You.

Needless to say, it was a far superior take on Christmas than Sleigh Ride would ever be.


"Vamp, tu ne peux pas porter tes chapeux dans l'école."

"Désolée, Madamn Conne. J'ai trop de Cool pour l'école."

"Donnez-moi tes chapeaux." Madame Conne reached for Vamp's stacked top hats. Vamp screamed and smacked her hand away.

"Vous ne pouvez jamais prener mes chapeaux, baka!"

Vamp was promptly vaporized for not speaking The Sacred Language.


One would think being vaporized would at least warrant a trip to the nurse. However, Vamp was sent to the office for calling the French teacher a baka. She cried the punkest of all anime tears onto the ground. If they called her parents, it would be like that time dad took the xbox: she would get her Yugioh cards taken and they would be sold to the rich family down the street.

"Oh, woe is me," she sobbed and her top hats sagged.

"FuturiticVampire." An authoritative voice scared the shit out of her top hats. She fell to the ground in despair and prostrated herself before the Taker of the Xbox. "You have called your teacher a baka. This is unacceptably weebish and I am very disappointed."

Vamp personally thought that she would be a disappointment to her father even if she wasn't a weeb. The only way to make him happy was to be a super-jacked sports freak. Also a male, but not a trans male. Oh no, never that. How terrible would it be to accept his child's peace at figuring out their identity? Unfathomable.

"You are grounded. No Bloodborne for seven years."

Vamp fainted and didn't wake up for seven years.

Theek Neek - He's not actually fat but he always wears supersized sweatpants that make his thighs look thicc as hell. He's actually a fuckin prodigy

Sleigh Ride - This was written in November when my ensemble was playing this for the concert. Absolutely awful stuff as you can imagine.

Stay safe, everyone!