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laurenmm62017 · 3 years

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Codywan Week Day 7!

Happy last day of Codywan Week, though I know many people are taking advantage of the extension, and I look forward to it!

Prompt: Domestic

Summary: Cody never really expected to be dating his father’s high school rival’s daughter’s ex-boyfriend, but life rarely turns out the way you think.

@codywanweek

A bit of a strange story, really. Within his father’s high school, there were the theater/music kids, and there were the jocks. His dad, Jango Fett, was both an outfielder for the baseball team, and also one of the leads in every production done by the theater every year. Adonai Kryze was also on both the baseball team and rival in the theater. Every season they would challenge and fight each other for the first string position, or the lead in some musical like Les Miserables.

They both graduated and moved on with their lives. Adonai had several children then moved up north. Jango married his high school sweetheart, opened a mechanics shop, and had Cody and a crap ton of sons.

Cody grew up as the eldest brother to 7 younger siblings, and went to the same high school that his dad went to. When he graduated high school, he enrolled in the local university with no clue as to what he wanted to do. He tried art, mechanics, creative writing, math, even psychology, but he still couldn’t settle on anything. Nothing felt right.

His sophomore year started. He tried his best to be a good older brother, a good son, a good student. It all became too much one day, and he took one of his dad’s cars and just… drove.

He ended up at the library, for some reason. Just walked in, found a random book off the shelf, sat down near the computers, and started reading.

He was a quarter of the way through his book when he sensed someone looking at him. He looked up and looked around, searching for his observer.

Cody then locked eyes with a kind-eyed, ginger haired, bearded man seated at a table on the other side of the room. He tilted his head, wondering why he was staring as the man stood up and walked right up to him.

“Hello there. I know that you’re reading very broodily, but would you like a bit of company?”

That was the day that he met Obi-wan Kenobi, a Master’s student at his university, brother and caretaker of two rambunctious teenagers, and the love of his life.

They exchanged phone numbers and regularly met up for coffee or lunch between their classes, despite Obi-wan’s busy schedule.

As the years went on, Cody and Obi-wan grew closer and closer. Obi-wan had met most of his family, except Fox and Wolffe, who were off at college across the country. Cody had stayed the night at Obi-wan’s apartment multiple times, mostly because he lived alone and actually had privacy.

One day, they were at their favorite coffee shop, after not seeing each other in a few days, due to school (ugh), when out of nowhere, a slim, blonde woman in a purple blouse and a skirt walked up to them and said, “Obi-wan Kenobi? Is that you?”

“Satine! It’s been so long!” Obi-wan was out of his seat and smiling brightly at her. “How have you been?”

“Oh, just fine. I’m visiting my grandparents with my father for a few days. And yourself?”

“I’m doing fantastic.” Obi-wan smiled, then turned his attention to Cody, who had been awkwardly sitting there during this exchange. “Speaking of fantastic. This is Cody Fett, my boyfriend.”

Satine’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of his name. Cody’s own eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Did she know him somehow?

“Cody, my dear, this is Satine Kryze, a dear friend of mine from high school.”

Ah, Kryze. Now he recognized the name. His dad never shut up about “back in his day” and Adonai Kryze.

“We used to be very close, and then you moved down here for university.” She said, shooting a look at Cody. “It was wonderful seeing you again, Obi-wan. Perhaps we can meet up again before I leave.”

“That sounds like a plan, Satine.” Obi-wan smiled. She smiled lightly back, and then took her coffee cup from where the barista had just placed it on the counter and left the shop.

They didn’t mention the encounter until they got back to Obi-wan’s apartment, and Cody started to get dinner ready while Obi-wan put some finishing touches on a presentation. They exist in comfortable silence for a bit, just listening to the chop-chop-chop of the knife Cody was using to prepare vegetables for a stir-fry. He turned the stove on, placed a pan on the burner, and heated some oil. He heard Obi-wan close his laptop and stand from the table, stretch a bit and head to the bedroom to clean up for dinner.

By the time Obi-wan came back, Cody had already plated the stir-fry and was scooping a bit of rice onto each plate. He walked both plates over and placed one in front of Obi-wan, and one where he usually sat while Obi-wan grabbed forks for them both.

They eat in silence for a bit, enjoying what Cody made, then Cody blurted out, “I didn’t know you dated Adonai Kryze’s daughter.”

“Ah, well, it was a long time ago. Why, do you know her?”

“Not really, but her father and my dad were bitter high school rivals.” Cody snickered, as Obi-wan gaped at him. “Yeah, they really hated each other’s guts. Always competing against each other, almost got into a brawl on the last day of senior year, were it not for my mom stepping in.”

“Fascinating.” Obi-wan breathed.

“Never imagined I’d be dating my father’s high school rival’s daughter’s ex-boyfriend, but life is full of surprises, huh?” Cody smiled, reaching across the table with an outstretched palm.

Obi-wan placed a hand on Cody’s and returned the smile.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, my dear.”

#codywanweek2021 #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #codywan #my writing #alternate universe

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rpd-rookie · 4 years

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What Does The ‘S’ Stand For ? - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: When you learn that Leon got the job you desperately wanted you decide to pay him a visit to congratulate him and finally put an end to the competition between the two of you in favour of some cooperation. Turns out, cooperation sometimes involve taking your clothes off.

Author’s Note: Some one-shot involving (pre) RE2 Remake Leon, a very sassy reader and some smut. I haven't written that genre in a while though. Hope I'm not too rusty. And by the way, if you notice some terrible grammatical mistakes please let me know (English is not my mother tongue). Anyway, I wish you'll like this story and as usual don't forget to like/reblog and tell me what you think about it.

Warning: SMUT and Language. You can also expect some humour and some fluff.

Also available on AO3

Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, “Competition has been shown to be useful up to a certain point and no further, but cooperation, which is the thing we must strive for today, begins where competition leaves off.” Wise words. But clearly Roosevelt never had to compete with Kennedy, and by Kennedy you didn’t mean John F. Kennedy but another Kennedy, one with less charisma yet better hair (hell, got to render unto Caesar what’s Caesar’s), Leon S. Kennedy - ‘S’ probably standing for “sucker” or “saint” in your opinion. After all, the guy was such a goody two-shoes. Teacher’s favourite. Neat and tidy top student. Perfect arbiter of right and wrong. And certainly, the only guy in the academy who didn’t stick his cock in Barbara Johnson’s pussy. Weird since she also had a president’s name just like him. Could have been the perfect opportunity for a horizontal presidential debate.

If it wasn’t clear already, you didn’t like Kennedy very much. But it was not for the reasons mentioned above. No, you could tolerate the fact that he was the embodiment of virtue and morals. What you could not tolerate though, was that he was better than you at everything. At fundamentals, at crime prevention and analysis, at counterintelligence, at physical agility, at shooting, at… well, you get the point. It infuriated you. He infuriated you. You never had the chance to beat him. Never. He was always top of your class and you were always close second. So of course, when you received the letter from the Raccoon City Police Department informing you that your application had been rejected and that the position had been given to someone else, you did the math. Only Kennedy could have taken that job away from you. After all, you had heard him talking about Raccoon City at lunch break quite a few times in the past weeks and each time he had sounded so excited – well, as excited as cannibalistic murders can make you of course. Truth is, you had also shown interest in this city the moment its terrible crimes hit the first page of the newspapers alongside the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal, collecting every tiny article about it and telling your classmates what a thrilling experience it would be to work on that case. You had even imagined yourself wearing the blue uniform, RPD largely written on your chest, making a report about the rotting body of a camper found in the Arklay mountains.

You sighed, disappointment hitting you hard again. And with a hesitant hand, you knocked at the door in front of you somewhat ready to let go of the competition in favour of some cooperation. You barely waited a couple of seconds before Kennedy opened the door, a cordless telephone against his ear. He appeared genuinely surprised to see you there. “Call you back later, mom.” He said before hanging up the phone, still staring at you with astonished eyes. “Y/N.”

“Telling your mommy about the amazing job you just got?” Your question had sounded more barbed and curter than indented. Bitterness probably. Leon sighed. He knew exactly what you meant. “Look, if it is about Raccoon City…” “Of course it is about Raccoon City. Why do you think I’m here? To discuss fashion?” You entered his bedsit without asking and looked around you. So well organized and tidy, so military. Pff. Where were the greasy pizza boxes, the nasty underwear on the floor and the bin filled with used tissues all the other guys usually had?

You turned around to face him with a stone cold expression. “I’m guessing you knew I wanted that post.” “Yeah but…” You cut him off. You couldn’t care less about the thing he wanted to say. “I don’t blame you. Had I been in your place I would have apply for it too. Damn, I even applied without being in your place, so … The point is, I wanted to congratulate you – even if it hurts me to do so – and tell you that I’m glad this competition between the two of us is finally coming to end.” Leon briefly chuckled and kept an amused smile on his face. This wasn’t the kind of words he had expected from you. “Well, thanks I guess.” “You’re welcome” You dramatically put a hand over your heart “Gosh, it kills me to be so polite to you, Kennedy.” He retained a laugh and you approached him to slam a heavy blue binder against his - surprisingly strong - chest. Wow, muscles! “Take this.” You reluctantly said with a strangled voice as if you were a mother giving up her baby . “Take care of it. It’s the work of a lifetime … sort of.”

Leon furrowed his brows and opened the folder. Inside, there were all the articles you had collected about Raccoon City since the reveal of the incidents to the public eye plus some notes you had written during you personal late-night investigations. Leon skimmed through them. They were incredibly detailed and you could see how impressed he was. Damn, you wished you had your camera to immortalise this moment. “It won’t be of any use to me now. And it took me too much time to just throw it away so have it. Take it as parting gift.” “Wow, Y/N. I don’t know what to say.” He looked beyond happy. It made you smile. What the hell, Y/N? “Thank you, maybe?” You swallowed you smile back before he could notice, choosing to replace what could have been something sweet and nice by sarcasm. “Yes, sure.” He grinned. “Thank you.” You nodded. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack so you’re not obliged to say ‘you’re welcome’.” He teased you and as much as you wanted to find the joke lame, you surprisingly found it rather funny. “Good. Cause that would have been too much for my heart to take in a single day.” He smiled again and this time you couldn’t help but gaze. You were forced to acknowledge he was very cute, handsome even, certainly the kind of guy you would have willingly flirt with if it hadn’t been for the relentless competition between the two of you. “You know it’s nice to see you smile.” Your eyes slightly widened. You had been smiling the whole time? No! “That wasn’t a smile. That was a sneer.” You quickly replied, trying to prevent him from spotting the sudden panic in your eyes. “Sure.” But yeah, that was definitely a smile and right now your cheeks were burning.

You cleared your throat and looked back upon his face, hoping yours had found back its usual seriousness and scorn. “Well, gotta go. Good riddance, Kennedy. Good luck and try not to screw up.” You proceeded to the door, glad this conversation was over, but Leon was not ready to let you leave just yet. “You know, for me, there was never a competition between us.” You stopped and turned around. “What?” You frowned. “Of course, there was a competition.” He shook his head. “Not for me.” “Are you telling me that I have deprived myself of sleeping, fallen into coffee addiction and lost my entire social life for two years in the hope of finally beating you at a freaking test while you …” You could tell he was clearly trying not to laugh but his mocking grin was enough to make you blow a fuse. Well, a funny fuse … a funny desperate fuse “No! No!” You repeated, all irritated. “You’re kidding me!” He shrugged, playing all innocent. “Don’t fucking tell me you let me tilt at windmills!” He did. Bastard. Leon - Son of a bitch - Kennedy! That’s what the S stands for. You cursed in your head. “I tried to tell you …” He started to explain to defend himself. “When?” You harrumphed, almost shouting at him. “Well, many times but …” “Clearly not enough times.” Your sarcasm was back. “… each time you sent me packing” “I don’t do that.” You felt offended. “I can’t barely make a full sentence with you!” You opened your mouth to retort but he stopped you by pointing a finger that undeniably meant ‘Careful what you’re going to say’. So you stood there, perfectly still, mouth opened, realising that he was probably right. “You’re allowed to breath, you know.” He said as a response to your reaction but you didn’t know what to say anymore. Did you really spend all your time at the academy trying to win a non-existent competition? “Fuck.” You cursed, definitely dumbfounded.

Leon observed you, perplexed and wondering if you were going to stay rooted to the spot for the rest of the day. “Y/N” He waved in front of your face to pull you out from your thoughts but you barely noticed. “All that repressed sexual tension for nothing?” You asked yourself. Wait! Did you just say that out loud? Panic-stricken, you looked up at Leon and judging by the way he was staring at you – all ‘what the hell did she just say?’ – yep you did. “You didn’t hear what I’ve just said.” You waved your hand past his face, like a Jedi would do in a Star Wars movie, knowing perfectly it wouldn’t work but hoping that ridicule would make the situation less awkward and give you a chance to run away from his room. It was a failure. “Yes, I did.”

And just like that, Leon Saint Sucker Son of a Bitch – whatever the S stood for - Kennedy caught your face in his hands and kissed you with a passion that made you gasp against him. You tried to resist for a second but then you decided to let go. After all, you had nothing to lose. The study years could be considered over and soon Leon would be in Raccoon City analysing amazing crimes while you would be God-knows-where writing parking tickets. You would never see each other again. “Tell that to anyone, Kennedy and I’ll kick your gorgeous butt from here to Raccoon City.” You threatened, close to his mouth. “I won’t. Scout’s honour.” Leon Scout Kennedy? You shook your head (Stop being silly, Y/N!) before pushing Leon on the convertible sofa behind him.

You straddled him without waiting, definitely willing to let your sudden eagerness and your repressed desire for him get the better of you. You met his lips in a new heated kiss, your body pressed against his, craving for lustful friction. And by the way Leon was holding you tight you could tell you weren’t the only one. His tongue asked permission to enter your mouth and you happily granted it. Who would have thought that Leon Saint Kennedy was such a skilled kisser? Couldn’t he suck for once? Oh yeah, he could suck at your neck apparently. Damn. A moan escaped your throat and you felt Leon smirk against your skin. “You like that?” He asked, proud of himself. You instinctively arched your neck asking for more, your hands weaving into his soft hair. “It’s not that bad.” You acknowledged and he suddenly bit you in the nape of your neck. “What the fuck?” You shouted, surprised. Leon laughed and you caught his face to kiss him and bite his lips in retaliation. But judging by the kinky smile on his angelic face, he didn’t seem to mind. “You’re incorrigible.” You humoured. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.” He pecked your lips again and again and slowly began leaving a trail of light kissed down to your neck. “You’d better be. Aren’t you tired of making my life a misery?” You pretended to sulk as he kept on pressing his soft lips on your burning skin. You grabbed his chin, putting you thumb in his dimple and stared at him. How ridiculously hot he was right now with that arousal tinting his beautiful blue eyes and this dishevelled hair.

“What do you have in mind, Y/N?” Rhetorical question. He knew exactly what you had in mind. Hell, it was basically the same thing he had in his. “Stop playing coy and take your clothes off.” You whispered close to his face, your hot breath against his mouth, before pulling his bottom lip between your teeth “What about your silly competition?” He murmured back, his hands slowly falling along your sides. “I’m all in for cooperation right now. So are you gonna give me a hand …” You started unbuckling his belt. “…or do I need to do everything by myself?” His eyes fixed upon yours mischievous ones, gazing at you with awe. You could tell he was completely at your mercy. “I’ll give you more than a hand.” You smirked and allowed your hands to unbutton his jeans. “I thought so.” He lifted his rear and you pulled down his jeans along with his boxers, biting your lips at the view of his beautiful cock. Jesus Christ Kennedy, Mother Nature certainly had been kind to you.

You stood up to undress yourself as well, dropping all your clothes to the floor, your eyes watching at Leon’s hastening hands fighting desperately with the buttons of his shirt. Clearly, you weren’t the only one that was impatient in this room, or horny. You let him finish before taking your place back on his laps. His hard sex against your body, you slightly shivered, impatience eating you from within. “You’re gorgeous.” He said as he tucked few strands of your hair behind your ear. You couldn’t help but blush, not used to such compliments, and, as a consequence, in order to erase all sense of discomfort in you (if you could call it like that), you decided to focus your attention on his cock. You brushed his length with your fingertips, admiring it with envy and lust, excited to do more with it. It made Leon hiss and you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading you. Without looking away from the blueness of his look, you caught his penis in your hand and started pumping it gently. Leon’s eyelids flickered; his head hit the back of the sofa and his mouth opened slightly. He seemed thankful, relieved even. You continued your gesture, watching him melting underneath you, listening to his now ragged breath with delight. God, that was sexy. He was sexy. Leon Sexy Kennedy. Suited him.

You bit your lips and decided to venture in between his legs, kneeling onto the floor. “What are you …” Leon complained when he suddenly stopped feeling you on top of him. You cut him short by guiding his cock to your mouth to softly kiss the pre cum-covered tip “Holy...” The rest of the sentence got stuck in his throat and turned into a growl as you eagerly sucked the head of his cock like a Popsicle. You smiled and licked his length, staring at how ecstatic he looked from this angle. “You like that?” You winked as you quoted him and he laughed. “Women.” You engulfed his cock deep in your mouth and started bobbing your head. A new sigh of pleasure escaped his mouth and you felt him instantly relax on the couch. “God, you’re amazing.” You liked the compliment and to show your appreciation you decided to massage his balls as you kept on sucking him. You received a lustful grunt in response and soon Leon’s hand grabbed your hair to give you a quicker pace, almost making you gag on him. “Oh, sorry.“ What a gentleman! “That’s okay.” You smiled in a very naughty way. “I like it.” He chortled and you took back his dick in your mouth, welcoming it deeper to show him you didn’t mind some roughness. “You know, if you keep doing this I’m soon going to cum in your mouth.” You stopped, licked your lips and crawled back onto his lap. “That would be a shame.” You joked sarcastically, hands back in his hair “Got a condom?”

The way you pronounced the words, all smiley and adorable, made him laugh again. He pushed you softly to open the drawer of his nightstand and find your one-way ticket for cloud nine. “There!” He announced excited as he showed you the contraceptive. “But first …” He suddenly grabbed your ankles to pull you towards him, making you slightly yelp in the process. “There’s something I got to do” He lay down on the couch, spread your legs and immediately nestled his head right in between your thighs, making you instantly shiver. So, that’s what he got to do. You sighed when you felt his breath against you swollen clit but it was only when his tongue met your pink flesh that you realised how aroused you truly were. You were so wet. “Fuck, am I the one to blame for such a mess?” He joked but his mouth and tongue felt so good in between your thighs that you could only just moan and arch your back, begging for proper sucking and licking. He didn’t make you wait and gave you what you wanted as he started fondling your clit with his tongue. “Leon” That was the first time you where saying his first name and you got to admit, you liked the sound of it. “Yes, sweetheart?” “Keep going, please.” You begged and he sucked on your bud, gazing at you melting under his touch as he did. You grasped his hair when he finally let a finger enter your core. Fuck, he was good. You moved your hips instinctively against him and he added a new finger. It sank into you as easily as the first one and you cried out, finding it impossible to be discreet anymore. “Fuck, Leon. I want you. I want you now.” You begged. “Wait a second.” He asked, definitely loving your taste too much for him to stop just now. He pumped his fingers in your pussy, licking your juices greedily and you clenched your thighs around his head, feeling the imminence of your orgasm slowly yet surely approaching. “Now, Leon. Now! Please”

Leon obeyed this time and he quickly sat up and grabbed the condom he had left on the pillow next to him. He put the red wrapper between his teeth and tore it open. Then he rolled the condom down his length with both his hands. You watched him all the time, your fingers massaging your clit, finding him terribly arousing at this very moment.

Once ready, Leon bent over you to kiss you again and he tapped his hard cock on your hand to ask access to your humid entrance. You didn’t object of course and even spread your legs wider. Soon enough, you felt him slide in between your wet lips and then finally push slowly yet exquisitely inside of you. You closed your eyes as he did and drew a sharp breath once you felt him fully inside. You didn’t need time to adjust to him as if your body was meant for him. Guess Leon felt it too as he immediately took a quick pace and began pounding you. You let your hands wander on his smooth chest from his strong pectorals down to his divine abs and the chiselled V below his navel, finding him simply gorgeous. Then you grasped his hips, and nudge his rear with your ankles, pressing his pelvis closer to you to take him deeper, and started moaning his name again. His hands caught your bouncing breasts to play with your nipples, and you rapidly felt the strong wave of pleasure back in your core, ready to drown you. “Fuck, Leon!” His mouth met one of your teats and sucked on it with ardour. That was too much to handle. “I think I’m gonna cum.” You cried out. “Yeah?” You nodded, letting a tear of pleasure escape your eyes. “Cum for me then.” He didn’t have to say it twice and few seconds later, you dug your nails in his hipbones and screamed loudly as you clenched around his cock, finally coming undone under his thrusts.

Stunned, breathless and at the same time a bit embarrassed that you had already reached your orgasm, you let Leon kiss you soft lips with a smile on his face. “See, you reached the finishing line before me.” He humoured. “Fuck off.” You whispered, amused yet completely exhausted. He chuckled and pressed his lips against yours one more time before gently pushing you flat on your stomach. “I’m not done with you yet.” He whispered in your ear.

You moaned loudly when he thrust back into your wet core, pinning you down on the mattress that you ultimately grabbed tightly in order to stay in place. He started pounding you again, holding you by the hips, taking delight in watching your sweet butt bouncing against him as he was burying himself deeper than he had ever done before. “Jesus, Y/N!” He growled before spanking you. You gasped, astonished but in a good way. You had never thought he was that kind of guy. “Really, Kennedy? Spanking? That’s what the ‘S’ in your name stands for?” He laughed, still fucking you from behind. “I thought you would like it.” “Oh but I do. I just never thought it was your thing.” “You should stop taking me for a saint, Y/N.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead, brushing the strand of hair covering his right eye away and focused again on his movements. “It’s not my fault. It’s your baby face.” You confessed in between two moans. He brutally stopped and you wondered for a second if what you had just said had actually vexed him. “My baby face? Really?” He repeated in your ear with a smirk as he grabbed you by the hair. “Who’s been crying out my name the whole time?” Holy shit. You instinctively braced yourself and when he resumed his hammering you knew it was a smart decision. Leon started growling even more loudly as he slowed yet deepened his movements inside of you, his hand in your hair, using your body as leverage. He was almost aggressive but you moaned nevertheless, out of breath, feeling a new orgasm building inside of you. Really? You clenched around him, trying to hold your orgasm a bit longer, unwilling to give him the satisfaction to cum around him again.

When Leon’s hard pounding started to get sloppy you realised he was really close to his release. “Jesus, I’m almost there.” He admitted. You don’t know how you found the strength to push him on his back but you did. Sitting on top of him, you removed the condom, threw it carelessly onto the floor and started to jerk him off. “I want you to cum on me.” You confessed. A guttural moan vibrated in his throat and he let himself sprawl on the mattress, leaving you in complete charge of his pleasure. You grinded against his cock as your hand kept on firmly going up and down his length. It drove Leon crazy and you soon felt him throbbing in your grip. His breath became even more ragged and jerky and small spasms took control of his body. You angled his cock towards you and soon, a hot load of thick cum spurted on your stomach and breasts as Leon cursed and grunted between his gritted teeth. “Fuck, Y/N!”

You smiled and let go of his member, proud and satisfied of your work, looking at poor panting Leon who had a beautiful yet exhausted smile on his face. “You killed me, woman.” He joked and you briefly laughed. Then, you wiped his cum off your body with your fingers and brought them to your mouth, sucking them eagerly and swallowing the white seed looking right in Leon’s eyes. You had the feeling he would find it very hot. “Jesus Christ” Bull’s eye!

He circled you with his strong arms and pulled you against his chest. His heart was beating wildly and you allowed yourself to huddle a bit more against him to enjoy the melody. Post-coital cuddling session? Not sure that was a good idea but you decided to go for it and so did Leon as he chose to burry his nose in your hair and kiss the top of your head.

“Scott” He whispered sleepily. You looked up, wondering what he meant. “That’s what the ‘S’ stands for. Leon Scott Kennedy.”

Scott? You repeated in your head with a soft smile. Oh well, that didn’t sound so bad even though, right now, you preferred Leon ‘Stay’ Kennedy.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #re2 remake leon #re2 remake #resident evil #fanfic #one shot

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noyoucantpinmedown · 3 years

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Springtime Swap

For this year's Springtime Swap I had to write for @totaldramablueyonder! This was a lot of fun. I've never written Katie and Sadie so it was good to try them out. I hope you like it!

Courtney didn't have friends. Never had. Never needed to. She got along well enough with her classmates to be somewhat popular, and that was all she needed to be named Student Council President.

But then Katie Ayala and Sadie Li joined the Student Council.

Those two were the chattiest girls Courtney had ever known. Whenever they bumped into each other in the hallways, they would keep her there for a good five minutes before she could excuse herself, and then she'd be late to wherever she was going. And Courtney hated being late.

So when she found out Katie and Sadie were being elected, she had to hold back the urge to slam her head against a wall.

But they impressed her. They showed up to the very first meeting in matching pink pantsuits- their outfits were always coordinated. They proposed doing a bake sale to raise money for homecoming, which Sadie made the budget plans for. Katie got half the school to buy something and charmed the other half into caving in and buying as well. In the end they raised a lot more money than they were aiming for. They were competent, and Courtney could always respect that.

"Courtney!" She heard Katie's high pitched voice from down the hallway, always distinct among the murmuring of the students. In a second, she and Sadie were standing by her locker. "Sadie and I were going to hang out at my house, do you wanna come?"

She blinked. "Oh, um...well thanks, but I have a lot of homework to do and--"

"Oh, that's okay, we do too!" Sadie piped up. "We can all do it together."

Shit. "I just--"

"Come on, it'll be so much fun!"

Courtney sighed and closed her locker. "Fine, okay, I'll come." The girls squealed. "But I can only stay until six, okay?"

Katie was already linking arms with her, Sadie on her other side. "Sure! We'll drive you home!"

The three climbed into Sadie's car, where the talking mingled with the music coming from the radio, which Katie had plugged her phone into.

Katie's walls were painted pink, and the white comforter on her bed was so thick and soft it almost looked like a cloud. "Do you guys want anything from the kitchen?"

Courtney sat down on the bed and began taking out her books. "I'd like some coffee, if you have any."

"I want coffee too!"

Katie nodded and left for downstairs, leaving Courtney alone with Sadie. Which was awkward, because while she wasn't close to either of the girls, she got on with Katie better. Sadie went quiet, so she guessed the feeling was mutual. She looked around the room, looking for something to make conversation with.

There were several posters of singers and bands on the walls. Courtney recognised Selena Quintanilla, One Direction and Little Mix among them. The desk by the window had been taken over by a sewing machine, pattern books and other sewing supplies.

"I didn't know Katie sowed."

"We both do. We make or alter a lot of our clothes", Sadie explained. She was laying down on the bed next to her. "That's how we always match. It's hard to find clothes that have both of our sizes, so..."

"That's really smart."

"Okayy, here's coffee!" Katie stepped through the doorway with a tray, which she set down on her nightstand. "I think we should start with math, just so we get it out of the way."

Courtney was worried that they would get distracted and not get any work done, but despite talking as they worked, they managed to finish all of their work, perhaps faster than Courtney would have done on her own.

When they were done, Katie put on some music and sat at her desk. She had brought a plate with cookies from downstairs. Courtney took a bite out of one while she checked her social media. Sadie was doing the same, and humming along to the music. The three weren't talking, but Courtney felt so relaxed. It really wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. The complete opposite, in fact.

"Katie, I was thinking we could use the fabric from the pantsuits to make rompers, or like a cute top and skirt combo."

The taller girl looked away from the shirt she was replacing a button on. "What? But the pantsuits turned out so well! And taking the stitches out is going to be such a pain."

"Well, yeah, but when are we going to wear them? Like, we literally just made them for the Student Council, and the fabric cost a lot!"

Courtney locked her phone and put it down. "I think Sadie has a good point."

Katie sighed, looking over at the open closet where the hot pink pant and suit jacket were visible. "A top and skirt in this color does sound nice. Oh my God, if we work quickly we could wear them to Geoff's next party."

Sadie looked somewhat satisfied before the prospect of a party distracted her. "He's throwing another one? When?"

Of course he was throwing another party. Geoff was the star quarterback of the school's football team, and his parties were infamous. He was easily the most popular person in school- everybody liked him, and he liked everyone. If he had thought to run for Student Council President, he could probably have given Courtney a run for her money.

"DJ told me that two weeks from now, his parents will be out of town. Oh!" A sudden idea hit her. She patted Courtney's knees to get her attention. "Court, you never come, we should all go together!"

"Oh my God, you totally should! You're like, friends with Bridgette, right? I'm sure she can get you an invite."

Geoff's girlfriend was in the volleyball team with Courtney. They sometimes talked in the hallways, and she liked the girl's laid back, yet grounded attitude. "Yes, we're friend...ish, I guess. But my parents would never let me go. And I have a curfew."

That didn't phase Katie. "You can just tell them you're having a sleepover at my house."

Her eyes widened. "Lie to them? I can't do that!"

She had never lied to her parents, not once. She had never disobeyed them, either.

"It wouldn't be a lie, we'd actually sleep over here after the party." Sadie grabbed a cookie from the plate. "Come on, it'll be so much fun."

"Yeah! Who knows, you might even meet someone."

"Oh, stop!" Sadie rolled her eyes at the suggestive look her best friend gave her. "She's hellbent on finding me the perfect girlfriend." She explained to Courtney.

That made her smile. "That's sweet."

"Do you have your eye on anyone, Court?"

She thought back to Alejandro, the charming exchange student who was too much of a flirt and a sweet-talker for her liking. Then to Duncan, which her recoil- she would die if anyone knew she had ever been attracted to him. Finally they landed on the red-haired boy from shop class that had been so helpful during the bake sale. Just a few days before, she had opened her locker to find someone had slipped a daisy inside through the slits at the top. It was a little damaged from having to fit through such a small opening. She had turned around to see who it might have been, and he was watching her from the other side of the hall. When she caught his eye, he blushed as red as his hair then walked away as quickly as he could.

"Please don't tell anyone."

The girls squealed. "No, of course not!"

"Promise!" Katie offered her pinkie finger, and Sadie imitated her. Courtney pinkie swore with both of them, a giddy smile forming on her face.

"Okay, you know Scott? He built the food stands for the bake sale. Tall, ginger hair, a year below us."

"Oh my God! He totally did that because he likes you. I saw how he looked at you when you thanked him."

"Actually..." She told them about the daisy. The girls squealed again, and Katie reached down to squeeze Courtney's hands.

"That's so sweet!"

"Oh my God, that's so cute!"

"You guys think? I know I can come off a bit strong sometimes. He probably thinks I'm the annoying Student Council chick."

Sadie shook her head. "Why wouldn't he like you? You're, like, super smart, and super pretty too! And some guys like girls with strong personalities."

"Yeah, you're gorgeous. He totally likes you back. He'll probably be at the party, you know. He hangs a lot with Duncan, and Duncan and Geoff are super close."

Courtney cringed inwardly at the mention of the school's resident bad boy, but the idea of going to the party was getting more and more appealing. She could picture herself dancing with the girls, and maybe Bridgette too. Letting loose for once. Feeling as happy as she was feeling now. Maybe she could find Scott and talk to him.

She had been so wrong about these girls- not that she'd ever say it aloud. They weren't vapid, or stupid. They were geninuely kind and skilled.

"You know what?" She said, "the sleepover sounds like a good idea."

#springtime swap #td writers #my writing #td katie #td sadie #td courtney

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inyourwildestdreamslove · 4 years

Text

Tell Me No Secrets: Chapter 8

Pairing: Steve Harrington X Reader X Billy Hargrove

Begins in Season 2.

Summary: You thought you escaped the world of science experiments and torture when you walk out of that lab. However, high school has other plans, somehow you end up as unlikely friends and love interests to the two most desired boys in school. Not to mention monsters from another dimension and a little girl named El from your past that just won’t seem to leave you alone. Maybe that lab wasn’t as bad as you thought, at least there people left you alone.

Masterlist

The Complication

You could feel the agitation rolling off of you in waves. After explaining to everyone that you’ve been followed for the past few days by an agent everyone had thoroughly freaked out like you knew they would. The anger was unexplainable and seemed to come out of nowhere and the pacing is the only way to keep yourself under control.

‘This is why I like to handle things myself,’ you think as you continue to pace. The room was still full of your friends as they argued about what the best course of action would be. It started with a guard detail and now Dustin is suggesting some kind of elaborate security device.

You whip around to walk the other way when a sharp pain goes up your side. You cry out, startling everyone in the room as you sink to the floor half in surprise and half in actual pain. Another sharp pain follows quickly after and again and again, before you know it you are curled up on the floor attempting to protect yourself from the phantom assault. A sob wracks your body as you actually feel one of your ribs crack a sharp pain pierces your hand and your nose. A few minutes later the assault is done and you just lay in a heap, your body throbbing and everyone in the room in various stages of panic and chaos.

You lay still and suddenly your vision is blurry and you are gazing at a living room you’ve never seen before. A man is casually leaning against the counter as you drag yourself up and shuffle to the bathroom. You lay your head against the door, the cool wood feels good against your forehead. You don’t pay attention to anyone, it’s not until Steve puts a hesitant hand on your arm that you are brought back to the room around you. You blink taking in the familiar couch and the familiar faces of your friends. You flinch away from him and he backs up hands in the air.

“It’s okay…”

You shake your head and get unsteadily to your knees your hands go to your throbbing nose when you pull away you expect to see blood but there is nothing there. You blink in surprise before you press on your rib expecting pain, but there isn’t anything there other than a phantom throbbing.

“What happened?” you ask shakily.

“We were kinda hoping you could tell us that…” Steve says hesitantly.

“I don’t know…”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” questions Hopper’s tight voice.

You gaze down at the floor before you glance up at Max, “What does your living room look like?”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just… what does it look like?” you ask again as you put your hand to your head attempting to soothe your throbbing head.

She begins to describe the beige walls and the TV in the corner. The window that opens up to the kitchen. You gaze unseeingly at the carpet as you recall every detail about what just happened to you.

“I see…” you say before you stumble to your feet with Steve and Melanie on either side to steady you before you walk wordlessly to your bedroom.

“Okay… what just happened here?” questions Hopper as he gazes at where you just were.

“We don’t know…” sigh Melanie, “She did that the other night.”

“When?” questions Elle.

“A few nights ago… I-I don’t remember exactly when…”

You can still feel the residual pain aching in your muscles as the water from the shower beats down on you. You don’t feel like dealing with anyone as you ponder what you think is happening. You inhale a shaky breath as you picture the living room and man leaning casually against the wall watching you get up. There is no emotion, dead eyes watch you as you make your way towards the bathroom. A moment later water is scalding your skin as you gaze around at the green tiles surrounding you, with a blink you are back in your own shower. Groaning you force yourself from the shower and into bed hoping against hope that you are able to get a good night’s sleep. You have a feeling you are going to need it for tomorrow.

The next morning dawns and before you can even think of riding your bike to school Steve is in your driveway and much to your surprise so is Dustin.

“Why are you here?” You ask in confusion as you lock the door behind you.

“I’m taking you to school, it’s too dangerous for you to ride your bike there,” says Steve as he crosses his arms.

“He’s right! You need protection,” interjects Dustin.

You furrow your brow at the duo in confusion, “Okay…” Mostly because you know that attempting to argue with them at seven o’clock in the morning is far more hassle than it’s worth. Also, you decide not to mention that you are more than capable of dealing with anyone that comes your way, but they enjoy being heroes and who are you to take that from them? Plus you simply don’t feel like riding your bike today.

When you pull into the parking lot at school you don’t think much of the fact that Steve gave you a ride until you get out of his car. You feel eyes on you instantly as whispers flare up all around you. A particular pair of blue eyes catch yours though.

“What do you think she’s doing with Steve?”

“Wasn’t she with Billy last week?”

“What are they doing with the freak?”

“What do they see in her?”

“It has to be a bet! You know they’ve been competing for King status…”

“Has to be a bet.”

“Hey! Don’t listen to them okay?” You hear Steve’s voice in your ear suddenly.

You whip your head around to face him and notice the way his hand is on the small of your back and the way he guides you into the school.

You blink attempting to refocus yourself as you try to block everyone out. You don’t have time for their rumors, you have more important things to do. You wave Steve off when you get to your locker insisting that you would be okay.

“Are you sure?” he asks in concern as he leans against your locker door, his eyes searching yours. You are beginning to understand why so many females like Steve. He has the uncanny ability to make himself look like a puppy and is quite endearing if not a little slow.

“I’m fine, Steve, I’ve somehow managed to survive without you my entire life up until now. I think I can handle first period.”

“I just…”

“Go!” you shoo him away much to the scandal of the female population that was trying not to be obvious they were eavesdropping and even more so for the ones who didn’t care if you knew they were.

You don’t see Steve again until lunch when he plops himself down in the chair next to you.

“So… How are you doing?” asks Steve as he pours little packets of hot sauce on his burrito.

You roll your eyes, “I’m fine Steve…”

He doesn’t look convinced as he regards you with concern, “Yesterday was pretty intense…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say coldly.

Steve has become rather bold rather quickly because he doesn’t seem to care whether or not you want to talk about it, “Maybe you should though! You should talk about it!”

“What good would that do?” you ask seriously as you attempt to concentrate on your math homework.

“You were scared… Hell, I was scared! You just started to scream and writhing in pain for NO REASON.”

“Would you keep your voice down!” You ask in an angry whisper, “Everyone at this school already thinks I’m some kind of freak, I would rather possession not be added to the rumor mill, especially when it involves both you and Billy.”

“Sorry! Geeze! I’m just trying to help!” he hisses back at you.

You fix him with an angry stare, “Perhaps in private would be better, you never know who is listening.”

“Ah… right…” he looks thoroughly chastised as the two of you make your way out of the cafeteria and to your science class.

“We still need to work on our project…” Steve grumbles as you both pile yourselves into the classroom.

“We can finish it up tomorrow after school,” you say decisively.

“Tomorrow? Why not tonight?”

“I have things to take care of tonight.”

“What things?” He asks almost defensively.

“Things that don’t concern you,” you mutter emotionlessly.

“Hey! You aren’t going after any more-” he asks, clearly offended.

“Steve!” You growl.

He lowers his voice to a whisper as he leans in, “-any more of those guys are you?”

“No… this has nothing to do with that…”

“You know friends trust one another right?” he asks in annoyance.

“Then you should trust me,” you say calmly as you look towards the front of the classroom as your teacher enters the room.

You hear him scoff from beside you, but you decide to ignore him, mostly because you know it annoys him when you do.

***

You can feel Billy’s gaze on you as you read the assigned material for your English class. Agaitiation rolls off of him in waves as you attempt to ignore him, but how can you when you know what you know?

It’s when the bell rings that a message floats between the two of you, landing softly in his mind, “Meet me behind the school.”

His eyes widen as he gazes at you like you are out of some horror movie, but you ignore the way the shock travels up his body and ricochets through his mind. A few minutes later you are standing before him as he leans against the wall.

“What’s this about?” he asks confidently, his voice doesn’t reflect the fear in his mind.

“Lift up your shirt,” you say while crossing your arms.

“Sweetheart if this is what you wanted all along…”

“No. Now lift up your shirt,” you say emotionlessly.

He rolls his shoulder and his jaw before he straightens, “What if I don’t want to.”

You tilt your head to the side, “What happened last night?”

He leans his head back and regards you with narrowed eyes, “That’s none of your business.”

“It’s my business when I’m a crumpled heap on the floor of my own house,” his eyes widen at your statement, “Now, lift up your shirt,” you say forcefully.

He holds your gaze as he angrily untucks his shirt from his too-tight jeans and pulls it up to reveal black and blue ribs. His side is all manner of colors some bruises are almost healed while others are fresh.

Shame sets you on fire as you regard him and it takes you a moment to realize that shame doesn’t belong to you.

You merely nod at him, “Thank you.”

He drops his shirt back down and refuses to look at you. His shame is replaced with anger, mostly because he doesn’t know what else to do with himself.

“Oh yeah! And what’s that gonna do huh?! You think you can fix this shit?! Fix my fuckin life?!”

“You would be surprised at what I can do…”

He snaps his head up to look at you his breath catching in his throat.

“Let’s go,” you say as you breeze past him into the school.

“Where?” he asks bewildered.

“To take care of this.”

His whips around as the door goes to slam in his face, he catches it at the last second as he attempts to tuck his shirt back in before following you down the hallway.

The ride to Billy’s house is silent as he chain-smokes cigarettes, the smoke flying out the open window. The ride is loose and fast and despite the fact that he wants you scared, you know better than to actually be. He pulls into the driveway and the two of you make your way up to the front door. You look around at the perfectly manicured yard before you enter the living room you were in last night.

“He uh… won’t be home for a couple of hours…”

“It’s fine, I can wait,” you say calmly while you pull out the book your class is reading for English.

“So you can really do it huh?” he asks as he sits down next to you on the couch. His elbows are on his knees and his hands have formed a fist under his chin. He’s wound as tightly as a wire about to snap.

You regard him quietly for a moment before you answer, “Yes, I can.”

“How?” his voice is rough as if he is holding back tears.

“You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t actually want answers to.”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eyes before he gets up and lights another cigarette taking a long drag.

“You should do the reading,” you murmur softly.

“What? Why?” He asks, almost outraged you would suggest such a thing.

“It would be best if he thought us to be working on an assignment.”

He nods absentmindedly before he puts the cigarette out and reaches for his bag. He pulls the book out and settles down to read it, but even though his eyes are moving he isn’t comprehending anything. After staring at the same page for several minutes he closes the book harshly and slams it down next to him on the couch. He runs his hands through his hair messing it up before he inhales a large breath then exhales. You watch him while he does all this in mild confusion.

“Do you doubt me?” You ask calmly.

He lets out a forced laugh as he shakes his head, “I don’t know what to think sweetheart.”

He looks up at you and his eyes lock with yours. They are a deep blue and remind you of the turbulent sea in a hurricane, this time though you think you can see a little bit of sun hidden in the depths. As if for once he has hope.

The door opens almost violently and if you hadn’t felt the waves of anger rolling off of the male before he made his way into the house you would have been startled.

“What’s going on here?” Billy’s father asks, you see right through his forced cheery facade and see for what it is a very dangerous question.

“We were just uhh…” Billy stalls in shock, clearly not expecting him yet.

“Working on an English assignment, we were paired up in class,” you finish easily for Billy regarding the man before you carefully.

“Right…” Billy trails off looking anywhere but at his father.

“I see… Will she be staying for dinner?” He asks, completely ignoring you.

“No, our assignment shouldn’t take that long,” you say calmly before you dutifully go back to your book.

‘Assignment my ass… Like I’m going to believe this isn’t his next whore…’ The thought flits across your mind, but you just keep your face blank giving nothing away.

Billy catches your eye looking nauseous. You merely nod your head towards the book before you go back to your own.

You hear the heavy boots of his father as he walks into the kitchen but you make no move to do anything.

Billy’s leg begins to bounce with his nerves.

Abruptly you stand and regard the man as he returns from changing from his work clothes. He stalls in the hall and just looks down at you in confusion.

“You’re going to stop hurting Billy. You will not hurt anyone in this family,” you say seriously, the order hanging in the air. “If I find out you’ve hurt any of them there will be consequences. Now you are going to forget this conversation ever happened.”

His eyes are blank and unseeing as you turn back to a bewildered Billy.

“That’s it?” He asks in bewilderment.

“Yes,” you say calmly, “I would like to go home now.”

He blinks up at in confusion.

“You have to take me there,” you supply in place of his obvious confusion.

“How do I know this worked?!” he asks in bewilderment.

“You don’t… yet. Also, don’t say anything to anyone,” he blinks at the order vaguely wondering if you used your power on him.

With that, you turn and walk out the door with a very confused Billy following dutifully after you.

***

The next morning, before you even step out of your front door, you can hear the arguing.

You roll your eyes as you gaze between Steve and Billy with Dustin and Max standing off to either side, both looking equally exasperated by their ride to school.

“Why are you both here?” you ask in annoyance regarding them both with crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

“I”m taking you to school!” They chorus before they return their glares back to one another.

“This is becoming excessive…” you murmur more so to yourself than the group surrounding you.

“Look, you don’t need to be riding your bike to school with…” Steve trails off looking imploringly at Billy.

“What? What’s going on?!” asks Billy in obvious annoyance around the cigarette between his lips.

“Nothing that concerns you…” you say regarding Billy calmly.

“You heard her! Nothing that concerns you!” Steve echos tauntingly.

“Enough, Steve,” you reprimand.

Billy scoffs from your other side, “You heard her Harrington, enough,” he says with a triumphant smirk.

Steve whips around in a fighting stance to regard Billy.

“ENOUGH! Both of you!” you exclaim in annoyance, “I don’t know what’s gotten into either of you, but I can take care of myself just fine. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t answer the question of who’s taking you to school, sweetheart?” Billy interjects indicating the two cars before you.

“Who was here first?” you ask in annoyance.

“I was!” They both chorus and you just cross your arms with a sigh.

You look to Max and Dustin for the answer and Max raises her hand, “We were here first.”

You nod decisively, “Billy can take me to school, Steve, you can take me home, okay?”

Billy smirks triumphantly and Steve just regards you in surprised betrayal.

“But it’s Hargrove! What if his bad driving kills you?!” Steve yells in annoyance.

“Billy has been giving me many rides to and from school, I’ll be fine.”

“He has?!” Steve asks following you to the passenger door of Billy’s car.

“Yes Steve, he has, long before you did,” you say patiently.

Steve just squeaks in indignation as you shut the door effectively ending the conversation.

Flying down the road towards school Billy has a Cheshire grin on his face, “You know you could have just told Harrington you wanted me to take you…”

You glance at Billy out of the corner of your eye, “I honestly didn’t care either way.”

“Sure sweetheart… Sure…” he says with confidence dripping from his voice.

Max scoffs in the back seat, “You know she’s too smart for you right?”

“What did you say?” he growls back.

As the siblings begin to bicker back and forth you notice it, the buzzing.

“Quiet both of you!” you exclaim shutting them both up momentarily.

“Don’t tell-”

“Hush!” you exclaim the order hanging in the air as you turn your head this way and that trying to get a read on the buzzing in your head.

Your eyes widen as it starts getting stronger and there you see a vehicle sitting at the intersection not fifty feet away clearly waiting for someone. You narrow your eyes as you regard the car.

“Billy,” you murmur turning to look him in the eyes, “Floor it, if they catch us we might as well be dead.”

He just nods, the barest hint of fear in his eyes as he lays his foot down on the gas pedal, his car roaring to life.

Notes: I know it’s been forever and day actually since I updated this but I love it very much! Please drop some love and tell me what you think. Also, I intend to redo the taglist for this story since it’s been so long. So if you would like to be tagged please send me an ask!

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargove x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harington imagine #steve harrington x reader x billy hargrove #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things series #stranger things fandom

175 notes · View notes

s0seo · 4 years

Text

The Heir Chapter 1

Pairing: OT7 x Reader WC: 3755

Rating: M

Genre: Vampire au with lots of angst and eventual fluff and smut

Summary: After you and your friend are attacked during a night out, you discover a world much bigger and more dangerous than you could have ever imagined.

WARNINGS: 18+, Lots of blood, swearing, assault, death of Minor character

A/n: I really want to thank @noonaduck @autumns-sweaters @solitudiante for beta reading this and helping me get this where it needed to be. I hope you all enjoy!

You see the seconds on the clock counting down, your heart pounding in your chest.

5, 4, 3, your favorite team is only two points down and is trying to beat the buzzer.

The player throws the ball past half court and into the hands of his teammate who turns to throw from the three-point line. As he shoots the ball you feel time slow down and you hold your breath.

2, 1 you see the ball flying, barely hitting the rim of the basket before falling through the net just as the buzzer sounds. The stadium erupts in cheers and you smile. You knew bringing him to this game was a good idea. Looking to your friend standing next to you, you can tell by his gummy smile that he feels the same. Still facing him, you glance again at the scoreboard.

“What did I say Yoongs? Never bet against Daegu.” He rolls his eyes and retorts, “I wasn’t doubting. I just said they were cutting it close.”

You stay in your seats for a few minutes while you wait for the stadium to clear out a bit. Deciding now would be the perfect time to order your Uber, you put in your order and see a few different messages from your other friends. Leaning back in your seat, you gesture to Yoongi to wait a moment while you respond to each one.

The first one you see is from Namjoon.

Namjoon: How’s the game going? Are you guys having fun?

Y/N: Sorry, I didn’t hear my phone go off. Yeah, the game was great! It was super loud though, but I think Yoongi enjoyed it too.

Next you see a few messages from Jin.

Jin: Hey text me when the game is over and we can probably meet up for drinks

Jin: Scratch that I went ahead and picked up a shift for tomorrow morning and you know I need my beauty sleep. Maybe next time!

Y/N: No worries! Just let me know when you’re free and we can hang out.

You see that you have a message from Jungkook as well

Jungkook: Hey me and the others were thinking about heading to my dad’s club next weekend, you in?

Y/N: I’m alright. Honestly, I’m not a big fan of clubs.

Y/N: Thanks for the invite though. Maybe we can do something else.

You’re beginning to wonder why they don't just message you through the group chat when you see a new notification.

Hobi: I need your help applying for some of these scholarships for next semester. I have to write a few letters and you know how bad my writing is.

Hobi: Please???

Y/N: Don’t worry about it. You free next week? How many letters do you need?

Finally, you see one last unanswered message.

Jimin: Tae and I were thinking about going to the beach tomorrow, wanna join us? Ask Yoongi too!

You look over at Yoongi and catch him browsing his phone as well, already knowing what his answer is going to be.

Y/N: Definitely! I don’t think Yoongs will come though. You know he doesn’t really like being outside.

Y/N: I think he’s supposed to visit his parents next week so let’s try to go then instead?

Y/N: Would you be willing to wait for me?

Rising out of your seat, you place your phone in your pocket and say to Yoongi as you stretch,

“I think the crowd has died down enough.”

He nods to you in response as he lets out a small yawn, and you can tell he’s getting tired.

“C’mon let's head out,” you say as you start your climb up the stairs towards the exit. You look back and continue with the suggestion, “let’s grab a few drinks to celebrate and head home. After all, it’s not every day my best friend turns 25.”

You are only met with a grunt which you consider translates to “that’s a great idea,” and finish your climb in silence,

As you reach the top of the stairs, you see that even the thinned crowd is still a giant mass of people.

‘So much for an easy exit,’ you think to yourself as you turn to Yoongi and see from his face that he’s thinking the exact same thing.

You realize that when you had the idea to take him to his first professional basketball game to celebrate his birthday, you didn’t take into consideration how crowded it was going to be when the game was over. Taking his hand, you lean close to him.

“Stay close. I’m gonna try and make a path for us.”

You then pull him along and start forcing your way through the crowd. When both of you finally make it out of the building, you lean against the wall, close your eyes, and breathe, thankful for the fresh air filling your lungs. From the sound to your left you can tell that Yoongi is doing the same.

You both really hate crowds, and you realize that this was probably the largest amount of people you two have been around in years. You pull out your phone to see how far away your Uber is, thankful that the app only says five minutes. ‘Good,’ you think to yourself, ‘I knew it was a good idea to wait until the stadium cleared a bit. This traffic is terrible.’ You look over to Yoongi and ask, “so, how do you feel? Did you have fun tonight?”

You knew when you bought the tickets that he wasn’t a fan of large crowds or loud noises, neither of you were, but you hope that he at least had fun seeing his favorite team in real life tonight. He looks away for a moment, forming his response.

“I really liked it. I’ve always wanted to come to one of these. Growing up you know my family never really had money, and basketball was sort of my way of escaping my reality. Even though I wasn’t the tallest or the fastest, playing gave me a sense of control that I wished I had over other parts of my life, so thank you.”

You understand, remembering how much his family was struggling financially when you became friends. How he struggled with his parents and his dreams of playing basketball and becoming a music producer. You lean into him and say, “I’m happy that I could make your birthday a good one.”

You look away, garnering your courage to admit what you have been wanting to say all night. “Honestly, I was a little worried about the noise and the crowd, but I’m glad we could do something together. It’s been a while since we spent some time together without all the others, you know.”

He smiles to himself, knowing just how you feel. He thinks for a moment about just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life, someone who he doesn’t have to explain himself to and understands his way of thinking even better than he does sometimes. He quietly whispers under his breath too low for you to hear, “this is the best birthday I could’ve hoped for,” and looks away to the cars still exiting the parking lot. You both stand there in silence for a while, leaning on each other, lost in your own thoughts while waiting for the Uber to arrive.

You reflect on how far your relationship has come. Growing up together you both continuously saw each other grow into the people you were today. You remember how excited he was when he made the basketball team and the pride he developed for his position as shooting guard. He remembered how proud you were when you became the top student in your class and how your classmates referred to the both of you as “the dream team” dominating sports and academics.

He was good at every sport he set his mind to, basketball, soccer, and tennis. You worked hard to be at the top of your class while also being captain of your school’s debate team, math team and foreign language program.

You let out a sigh as you think about your other friends. You knew they wanted to join you tonight, but you could only manage to grab two tickets before the others sold out. You were lucky you even got these. You glance over at your friend, and you’re pretty sure his level of disappointment at it only being the two of you isn’t that high.

You and Yoongi first met them your junior year of high school after one of the other school districts was forced to shut down its campus due to a lack of funding, and yours was forced to merge with it.

Along with over 150 other students who would now compete with you and your best friend, came six others who would later become the people who knew you better than your own family. Jimin, Namjoon, Jin, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Hoseok were all strangers you both found yourselves competing against constantly.

Yoongi often found himself competing with Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin for captain positions, and you found yourself having to fight tooth and nail to beat Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook as well for the top spots in your clubs. The only two you didn’t have a problem with were Taehyung and Hoseok. That was until Yoongi decided to try out for the dance team and you developed an interest in photography.

Stuck together for hours and hours, you soon realized that although you were all different people you all actually had a lot in common besides your clubs.

You were all passionate about your dreams of success and you all agreed to help each other succeed any way you could. You came to a compromise that allowed everyone to succeed while always pushing each other to do their best.

His friendship with the others wasn’t as close as yours was. Even though you were all like a family to each other, you couldn’t help but feel like each of them grew closer to you than they had each other.

You shrug to yourself, not really feeling up to analyzing your friendships tonight, but looking over at Yoongi, you know he’s already thinking of how to tell the others how much he enjoyed tonight without making it seem like he had fun without them, and you wish that he felt like he could be more honest with how he feels sometimes.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket pulling you out of your thoughts, and you see that your ride has finally arrived. “Come on,” you say to Yoongi, grabbing his attention with a nudge of your shoulder.

“Let’s get something to drink then call it a night.”

Deciding to head to your regular bar, you and Yoongi order your drinks and take a seat in your regular booth towards the back.

After drinking your way through a4 bottles of soju, you think it is about time for the both of you to head out. You order another Uber and head to the bathroom, telling Yoongi to just wait for you outside.

Making your way out of the bar your head begins to spin and you chide yourself for not grabbing food before coming. You stumble outside and look around, not spotting Yoongi anywhere.

You could’ve sworn you saw him come out here before you went to the bathroom. You pull out your phone and text him.

Y/N: where are you

Seeing no response, you check the arrival time of your Uber and see it’s still a few minutes away.

You pull up Yoongi’s number and call him. The first call goes straight to voicemail and you curse as you dial his number again. This time even though you don’t get an answer you hear his phone ringing nearby. Searching for the source of the sound, you turn the corner and see his lit-up phone ringing on the ground in the alleyway.

It’s hard to see given that the only light is coming from a dimly lit bulb above the door on the side of the building, but it’s only a few feet away.

You look around and call out for him, already feeling yourself beginning to sober up as your heart begins to pound in your chest.

“Yoongi? Are you out here? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and begin walking into the alley, becoming very aware of how quiet it has gotten.

Seeing nothing but a dumpster, some empty bottles, and some trash bags you reach down for his phone and pick it up. The screen is cracked, but you can see that it still works.

You glance around once more and realize how sketchy this feels.

Deciding to turn back you think to yourself ‘he probably just dropped his phone out here before going back inside or something.’

Your thoughts are interrupted however when you hear a bang against the dumpster. You turn around, and you hear it again though this time it’s quieter. You turn on your phone’s flashlight and quietly walk towards the dumpster, ready to run away if you need to. As you get closer you hear what sounds like a person moaning.

You dim your flashlight, turn the corner of the dumpster, and you freeze. What you see makes you want to scream.

Yoongi is lying on the ground against the wall covered in blood. He is being pinned down by a man dressed in black. Yoongi’s eyes slowly blink at you.

‘You have to help him! You have to help him’ your thoughts scream at you. You have to be smart though, you realize. Judging by his form, you can already tell that he is much bigger than you.

You look around for something, anything that you could use to save your friend. The man hasn’t seemed to notice you yet, but you know Yoongi can’t last much longer, not with the amount of blood he’s lost.

Deciding that your best option is to hit the man off of Yoongi, you quietly reach down for the biggest bottle you can find, and sneak up behind him before bringing it down on his head as hard as you can.

You see him lean forward, startled and injured by the unexpected attack, and you hit him again, this time reaching forward and pulling him off of your friend.

He seems to be knocked out.

You crouch down in front of Yoongi and look around for help. Out of the corner of your eye you see a person walking near the road at the end of the alley.

“Hey! Call an ambulance! Call the police, hurry!” you yell out to them and see them quickly run back towards the entrance of the bar.

You breathe a sigh of relief before looking back at your friend to inspect his wounds. You can already tell that he has two large gashes: one on his right side and one on his shoulder near his neck, and so much blood.

You can see his short breaths fogging up the cold night.

Reaching for his face, you whisper to him, already feeling your tears beginning to fall.

“Yoongs, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Receiving no response, you say again, “Yoongs? Yoongi, can you hear me?”

You look at his wounds again and place your hands on them, hoping to stop any further bleeding until the ambulance arrives.

Suddenly you feel your entire body jerked backwards. You hear a crack as your body forcefully slams into the brick wall of the building. Feeling your breath leave your lungs, you gasp for air. Tasting copper on your tongue, you realize that your nose has started to bleed and reach up to touch the back of your head with your fingertips, only to realize that you’re bleeding from there as well.

You look up and see the blurry shape of the man glaring down at you.

His face looks angry and he is bleeding along the side right where you hit him earlier. “YOU!” he seethes in recognition as he brings his face near yours, already looking forward to repaying you for the wound on his head and growls at you. “They said to bring you in in one piece, but I don’t think a few scrapes would hurt.”

None of what he’s saying is making any sense to you right now.

‘Who is this man,’ you wonder. ‘Why does he seem to know you?’

Desperately glancing behind him at Yoongi you feel more tears fall. You realize that he’s losing too much blood. He probably won’t make it out of this; neither of you will.

You look at the man as he brings his hand to your throat, and you reach your arms out searching for anything that could help you. You feel your fingers graze the broken neck of a bottle as your vision starts to fade, and you know what you have to do.

Placing your free hand on his arm, you choke out “why are you doing this?”

Your nails are digging deep enough to draw blood now. “Because,” he says lifting you up by the throat as he brings his face close to yours once again, “you ruined everything. More importantly, you pissed me off.”

He looks you in the eyes and you see him pause before licking his bottom lip and bringing his face towards the left side of your head. You can faintly hear sirens in the distance.

Realizing that now is your chance, you bring your right hand upwards sharply and stab him in the neck with the bottle. You twist it in deeper, feeling his blood cover your hand and spray across your face. You hear him let out a scream as he staggers away from you and pulls the bottle out of his neck.

You see blood pouring out of his wound as he rushes forward and slams you against the wall for a second time.

You feel a sharp pain in your right side before you see him stagger away towards the end of the alley. You slide down the wall, your breathing shallow, and your hand trembles as it makes its way to your side.

Bringing your fingers up to your face, you can see that they are covered in blood.

You see that his blood has soaked into your shirt, and you weakly drag yourself over to Yoongi’s now barely conscious body, your tears falling slowly.

You notice the bleeding from the wound on his side has slowed down immensely, and you understand that it’s because he’s running out of blood to lose.

You whisper out to him, your vocal cords crying out in pain from the man’s grip,

“Yoongi? Please look at me... Yoongi!” You reach out and check his pulse, choking out a sob as you realize it’s too weak to feel.

You move one trembling hand and press it against your still bleeding side while your other hand makes its way to the wound on his neck.

After what feels like hours you finally see the flashing lights of the ambulance. You move your hand from your side to cup Yoongi’s face and see his eyes fall to your face as he looks into your eyes and blinks slowly.

” Yoongi”, you whisper as you feel yourself begin to black out, “please be okay,” you barely manage your last word before your eyes shut and you fall forward against him.

A few blocks away...

The man staggers through the empty alleyway, clutching his neck hoping to slow the blood loss. He was lucky that he drained as much of that kid’s blood as he had, otherwise the wound would have killed him.

What was he thinking? He had one job. One job: find the girl and bring her to the abandoned studio. One job, and he couldn’t even do that.

He knew that he shouldn’t have bitten that kid, but he just couldn’t help himself, it had been weeks since he last drank anything.

That bitch ruined everything. If she had just stayed inside a little bit longer, he would have sucked the kid dry and taken her without anyone noticing.

He didn’t understand what was so special about her anyways. The only thing not unmentionably plain about her was her eyes.

They weren’t beautiful or anything, but he couldn’t help but look at them and once he did, he couldn’t convince himself to tear his gaze away.

Shrugging off the thought, he makes his way to the meeting point.

Hearing the faint sound of sirens in the distance, he quickly ducks inside the dark building and hopes that his client is feeling benevolent.

He moves his hand from his neck and sees that his wound has already started to heal. Releasing a heavy sigh, he checks the wound on his head and finds it fully healed. The only evidence left is the dried blood it produced.

He walks down the quiet hallway and opens the first door to his right just as instructed. However, when he enters the room there is nobody there.

Looking at his phone he checks the time remembering that he was supposed to arrive by 1:30 am. He sees that it reads 2:00 am.

‘Shit,’ he thinks to himself. ‘They probably already left.’

Walking further into the room, he begins planning his next move when suddenly he hears the door slam closed and feels a presence behind him followed by a hand wrapping around his throat.

“So,” the figure says from behind him, their voice sounding like a whisper brought by a phantom wind.

“Not only did you fail to deliver the girl, but you also managed to leave an entire shitstorm in your wake as well. There was a reason the word ‘quietly’ was included in your instructions.”

The man gasps for air and tries to respond but only manages to let out a grunt.

The figure releases its grip on the man, and the man sinks to his knees, gasping for air while clutching his neck.

“I’m sorry” he rasps,” Just tell the brotherhood I’ll get her for sure next time.”

The figure lets out a huff before walking around the man.

He stops just in front of the man’s bent knees and lifts him by the throat once more, this time squeezing tighter.

“There won’t be a next time,” the figure whispers before breaking the man’s neck and walking away.

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softest-cinnamon-roll · 4 years

Note

Hi! Could you possibly give some of your favorite finished chaptered reddie fics?❤

Well do I ever! Enjoy these amazing fics by some amazing people! Its an extensive list so I’ve put it under a read more so as not to clog the tag!

Is there somewhere by @tozier-boy | 11/11 | complete | explicit

Richie didn’t belong in boring, old fashioned, small Derry, that was for sure.

Richie Tozier wore leather jackets and ripped jeans. Richie Tozier had his ear pierced and he painted his nails black. Richie Tozier wore combat boots and let his curls grow wild and messy. Richie Tozier always had headphones around his neck and sometimes he wore eyeliner. Richie Tozier smoked weed on the school ground and told teachers to shut the fuck up. Richie Tozier was tall and skinny and he wore bands tank tops. Richie Tozier was the reason why Eddie had started biting his lower lip way more frequently than he did before.

Zero Characters Left by @stellarbisexual | 18/18 | complete | explicit

Eddie works in social media at a tech start-up in Boston, and Richie's been hired to do some video production for the company.

Characters are aged-up to their late twenties, and this takes place in 2017.

Bright as yellow by @speakslowtellmelove | 30/30 | complete | mature

“‘Remember that hot guy I couldn’t stop turning around to stare at while watching the movie? Y’know, the one I stalked? He’s being hilarious in my math class full of nerds.’ You honestly think that’s my fault, Eds?”

Eddie felt his cheeks heating up, because Richie was right about all of it. Well, most of it. “My name is Eddie, not Eds. And I didn’t stal–”

“Nice to meet you, Eddie. See, isn’t that better? Eddie and Richie, Richie and Eddie. R plus E. It has a nice ring to it.”

the sea around us by @eddiefuckinkaspbrak & @tozier-boy | 26/26 | complete | explicit

Prince Edward, is due to marry Princess Myra in order to help secure his kingdom financially. In a last ditch effort to be free and fulfil a lifelong dream of travelling the world, he sneaks out of his window and on board a pirate ship. Captain Richie Tozier’s pirate ship.

or Prince Eddie & Pirate Richie AU

Beep-beep, Eddie Kaspbrak by Ragno | 5/5 | complete | mature

Eddie Kaspbrak is 14 years old and he just defeated a demonic clown along with his friends.

Eddie Kaspbrak is 16 years old and he's fighting against himself and the way he feels and the way he thinks.

Eddie Kaspbrak is 18 years old and he'd much rather fight a demonic clown all over again than face his true feelings for Richie Tozier.

The Order by @s-s-georgie | 10/10 | complete | mature

“You guys lost too?”

“Nope. Believe it or not Silent Hill is my actual destination.”

- The Silent Hill Au Literally no one asked for but you're getting anyway.

far too young to die (part one) by @catsbrak | 17/17 | complete | explicit

Eighteen year old seamster Eddie Kasprak is forced to put his survival skills to the test when he’s selected in the reaping for the 27th Annual Hunger Games, where twenty-four young ‘tributes’ who are gathered from each of the twelve districts must fight to the death. Eddie forms close bonds, his priorities undergoing a drastic shift, and he instead takes on a more difficult task: to try and protect his friends.

(in other words, the reddie hunger games AU no one asked for, and everyone will hate me for)

Kryptonite by hoeziertozier | 13/13 | complete | explicit

‘Richie looked down and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “There’s a reason I came to New York.”

“Isn’t it because of your job?”

“Yeah, but there’s a reason I specifically chose New York. I mean, it’s Wonder Boy’s home.”

Eddie choked on air. For the first time in ages, he wanted to use his inhaler. “What?“

"Yeah, I’m kinda obsessed with him. He’s, like, my idol.”

So, his new roommate was his superhero persona’s fanboy. Yep, that was definitely not going to be a problem.’

Or, the self-indulgent Superhero!Eddie and Superfan!Richie AU that literally nobody asked for.

Just Survive Somehow by @s-s-georgie | 21/21 | complete | mature

When the world ended, and the dead rose to eat the living, it turned into kill or be killed, but how do you survive when the creatures around you are constantly evolving?

Wishes by strictlyamess | 14/14 | complete | mature

It's one thing to vacation at the Happiest Place on Earth with all your friends.

Working there with them is another thing entirely.

(or: the Disney World Employee/Cast Member AU written by a former Disney World Cast Member that some people asked for but most did not)

Operation: Hawaii Honeymoon by @tinyarmedtrex | 9/9 | complete | mature

A plan formed in Eddie’s head. One that would benefit them both. “Does your ex have an instagram?” Eddie asked. Eddie shook his head. “Do you want to make her jealous?”

“More than anything.”

“Hear me out then.” Eddie said, plunging forward even though he knew his idea was ridiculous. “What if you came to Hawaii with me? We’ll act like the perfect couple- she’ll get jealous, maybe want you back, and Myra will have to accept that I’m gay and will leave me alone.”

Richie looked up at him, a noodle dangling out of his mouth. “What?”

[ or Eddie and Richie meet on a plane to Hawaii and strike up a deal. Pretend to be lovers to make Richie’s ex-girlfriend jealous and convince Eddie’s ex-fiance Myra that he’s gay. What could go wrong?]

Inexhaustible Source of Magic by @jem-carstairs-is-perfection & @tinyarmedtrex | 17/17 | complete | teen

The Triwizard Tournament is back at Hogwarts and this time, two students from each school will be chosen to participate. When Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak are elected by the Legendary Goblet of Fire to compete, they must come together as a team and overcome their differences to prove to themselves and to others what they are capable of.

ask me to stay by @richietoizer | 7/7 | complete | teen

“Your lip is all busted,” Eddie said, as though pointing out that Richie’s lips were injured would somehow make it okay that Eddie was paying attention to them. Richie’s hand came up, long fingers wrapping around Eddie’s tiny wrist, and he gently guided Eddie’s touch away.

Eddie finally wrenched his eyes away from Richie’s lips and met his best friend’s gaze. There was a softness there that he rarely got to see, not even the smallest hint of teasing or joking there. It was just Richie, just Richie looking at him and Eddie looking back. For a single moment, it was just Richie and Eddie alone in the world. Nothing to bother them, nothing to live up to.

[or: the year is 1994, and Eddie Kaspbrak is in love.]

Sex, Money, Murder by @studpuffin | 8/8 | complete | explicit

“The only sin is mediocrity.” ― Martha Graham

the years go by like days by georgiestauffenberg | 4/4| complete | mature

It’s Eddie he wants to get a hold of, though, and he does, tucking him under his arm, and ruffling his hair, making him laugh. He’s startled when Eddie looks at him with such happy, shining eyes. And, for a split-second, he’s tempted to kiss him right then, right there in front of everyone.

He wants to. Badly. He doesn’t.

He leans in, instead, and he smacks a loud, wet kiss to Eddie’s cheek, punctuating it with a “mwah!” He does it again and again. “I’m so proud of my little Eds Spagheds!”

“Get off me!” Eddie says, laughing and shoving him away, swatting at his hands.

AU. in the 27 years in-between, Richie and Eddie forget a lot, but they don't forget each other.

Fall Away From Me (I Just Can’t Take It) by @thelazyeye | 6/6 | complete “ explicit

It’s okay, though, Eddie tells himself. It’s all fine. This is part of their arrangement. This is a casual thing they have going. It’s his own stupid fault for catching feelings for someone he agreed to casually fuck. Especially when that person is his best friend from childhood.

It Was Always You by eddie_kaspbraktozier | 12/12 | complete | teen

Eddie, miraculously, survives the fight with Pennywise. Richie is still hopelessly in love with him, even after all of these years. As Richie stays with Eddie to help him with his recovery and divorce, he tries to find the courage to tell Eddie his true feelings.

Eddie wakes up after the fight with Pennywise to realize his whole life has been a lie – his asthma, his marriage, god, his whole adult life. Although now, Eddie is finally free to decide what he wants out of life. Eddie slowly comes to realize his feelings for his best friend.

Told in alternating point of views – Richie and Eddie’s.

IT Chapter Three. The ending we deserve.

IDK, spooky stuff by varnes | 3/3 | complete | explicit

“You’re a ghost hunter, aren’t you?” Georgie reminded him. “And he’s a ghost, or something. So obviously the police won’t find him, but you guys can, with all your equipment. You can find him and make the murders stop.”

From the couch, Richie’s whole face was lit up with delight. That was always a bad sign.

“I don’t know, Georgie,” Bill said, but before he could get the words all the way out, Richie was leaping up and yanking the phone out of his hand.

“Murderous ghost circus performer, love it, love it,” he announced. “Georgiekins, say no more, not one word, we are absolutely going to come bust the shit out of this clown.”

Or: the quasi-BFU AU where Bill, Stan, Bev and Richie go to Derry to hunt a ghost. Featuring a one-armed boy out for revenge; a Tiny Smol hotel clerk who can't decide if he wants to fight Richie or marry him; The Hot Fireman From LA?!; a local librarian who just wants to read books to children in peace; and, of course, Pennywise the clown.

#reddie #multi chapter fic recs #fic recs #enjoy #complete

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ms-demeanor · 4 years

Note

After reading your "ultra-long postivity post", now I have kind of a weird feeling because i relate a lot to pretty much everything you said, but i ended up approaching the "not everyone can x" from the opposite side, being the "gifted kid" teachers used to hold everyone to unrealistic standards (that i knew most couldnt achieve in the given timeframes), and now i get frustrated when i dont develop skills immediately, because i have done it before and feel like i should be able to and aaaaaaaaaa

Funny story: when I was a kid my parents had both my sister and I tested for learning and developmental disabilities. This testing included IQ testing.

It identified that we were both “gifted” kids* and that I’m dyslexic.

It totally missed my ADHD, though!

The problem with that is that my parents. Hm.

Okay my parents both grew up in very poor families. VERY poor. And they both wanted to go to college and knew the only way that they could was through scholarships. So they became debaters. They met at a tournament in high school.

Debaters are weird. You need an efficient working memory and strong recall and the ability to think quickly on your feet. Being witty and kind of an asshole are also good traits for debaters. Basically you’ve either gotta be really fuck-off smart to be a competitive debater or you’ve gotta at least *seem* really fuck-off smart.

And my parents were champion debaters at a national level. The Whittier College debate trophy has my mom’s name written directly under Richard goddamn Nixon. My dad was on the USC debate team and competed against Harvard and won. Not only that but he ended up coaching debate for USC and Cal Tech.

So as kids who grew up in extremely poor families and were able to go to college and get middle-class jobs and buy a house because of intellectual ability my parents placed A LOT of importance on intellectual ability.

So that IQ score became a large part of my life.

First we attacked the dyslexia. The approach was basically teaching me a bunch of sight words because sounding out phonics doesn’t work when the letters get screwed up. And because I was *gifted* we did a lot of really BIG sight words.

It took about six months to get me up to speed from “memorizing the pages of a story to match the pictures because I couldn’t read along in class” to “the first book I read on my own was The Hobbit.” I guess that counted as “cured” because that was the last time I got any kind of educational assistance.

At that time I was at a gifted school, a really tiny private school that was also an after-school daycare where we did full-day classes and then did gymnastics and swim from 3-6pm. I also was there over the summer because my parents worked.

So going from “tiny private school where the teacher has you stand up in class to read your failing grade in front of everyone so that she could shame you into performing better” to “fine public school in a suburb wealthy enough to have arts programs” was a major, major change. They did an aptitude test because I was transferring in from a different district and there was much discussion about whether or not to move me directly from the second to the sixth grade.

The district refused, thank fuck.

The public elementary school didn’t *have* a gifted program so it took very little time for me to become the Certified Weird Kid. My third grade teacher had me read aloud to our class for twenty minutes a day. I taught the class the multiplication table.

When it got to be time to go to the junior high school my mom went to a meeting for the school’s gifted kids program. APPARENTLY one of the kid’s dad’s basically said “I don’t understand why you’re wasting school funds on field trips for the stupid kids, the school should spend more of its resources on kids who have a chance of actually meaning something to the world” and my mom decided that while being gifted was important it was less important than making sure I wasn’t exposed to assholes of that caliber on a regular basis.

(thanks mom, I actually do really appreciate that reprieve)

Several teachers pushed me into advanced classes - my math teacher insisted that I take the advanced algebra classes in the seventh and eighth grade.

The GATE kids *WERE* assholes and were extra bonus special assholes to me because math was the only advanced class that I was in. (At my junior high school you had to pick your elective based on what level of classes you were in - to take the GATE classes you HAD to take a music elective; if you took art, drama, shop, or home ec you couldn’t take the smart kid classes. The algebra class was a new, separate addition to the program so *some* of the kids in the “electives for dropouts” program could take algebra. Schools are really fucked up, guys, in case you didn’t know schools are really fucked up and that was BEFORE No Child Left Behind).

I got a C in that algebra class and sat in my room for literally an hour screaming at myself for being such a selfish, distracted idiot that I let myself read my books instead of studying harder for the class. (clearly very healthy, normal twelve-year-old behavior)

When it was time to go to high school my teachers made a united plea to the district to transfer me into honors/IB/AP classes.

The kids in the honors/IB/AP classes continued to be kind of awful to me. I got extremely depressed and basically started doing the lazy-but-brilliant thing of completely ignoring homework or in-class work but performing spectacularly well on tests or essays in the classes that I wasn’t catastrophically failing

I was the only person at the school who got a perfect score on the vocab part of my SAT. I was the only honors kid who hadn’t been in SAT prep classes. There was only one other kid who graduated with the same number of units as I had, we’d outstripped the valedictorian and salutatorian but three classes each. I only applied to one college - I got accepted for painting but my interviewer urged me to move to the writing program and I got accepted for that too.

My financial aid didn’t come through and my dad wasn’t willing to cosign for loans on “an art program at a trade school.”

I got accepted to Pratt Institute on their Writing for Publication track which included an internship with the New York Times for third-year students in the program.

At that point I had a Columbia Scholastic Press award for my work on my high school yearbook.

Let me tell you, the community college that I went to and spent five years variously failing and succeeding at had a fucking *killer* newspaper and magazine when I was there. The local community newspaper that hired me when I was 21 was also much better designed and edited than it had any right to be for the three years I worked there (getting paid a whole eight dollars an hour and sometimes working 20 hours straight to get it in to the printer on time).

When I transferred to the state school I got perfect grades and worked full time and won every contest offered by the school’s English Honors society (which I couldn’t join because I was a transfer student and hadn’t done honors classes my freshman and sophomore years). I started a literary magazine with some friends when I graduated; we published four full issues online before it fell apart.

You know what’s also funny?

Even the food-service job I had to pay my way though the community college I felt terrible about attending was a skills test. I was a barista, so of course for a while I was a competitive barista.

I disappointed my parents a lot. I heard a lot of “we know you’re better than this.” I got told I was too smart to be screwing up this bad. I mentioned it a couple weeks ago but my results from that IQ test got compared to my sister’s and that was the justification for holding me to a higher standard. “You’re measurably brilliant, why aren’t you acting like it?”

Here lies the corpse of a gifted kid. Look on my works ye might and despair.

I am the perfect picture of a twice exceptional gifted kid and the reason I wrote all of this out is to tell you one thing:

“Gifted Kid” is a label that someone applied to you, it has nothing to do with who and what you ARE.

It’s very, very unfair that the adults in your life used you that way. I have an exceptionally terrible memory of being singled out as the only one who passed the first test in my IB World History class; “Why is Alli the only one of all of you who is writing at grade level? You’re supposed to be the smartest kids in the school, why did you all fail?”

That’s awful for the kids around you, that’s awful for you. It doesn’t do anybody any favors if people around you are being informed that you’re setting the curve they’ll be judged against. And it really, really doesn’t do YOU any favors because it doesn’t take long *at all* for your brain to learn that that’s all you’re good for. If you aren’t the best at a thing then what’s the point, you HAVE to be best because they already SAID you were best and if you aren’t then all these other people hate you for setting a standard that even you can’t keep up with.

You end up competing with past versions of yourself and focusing on those things that make the grownups in your life praise you because the grownups in your life has praised you in such a way that it’s turned all the other kids against you.

You know who bullied the fuck out of me? The kids I taught the times tables to, the kids I read to for half an hour a day.

Those kids were MEAN to me but the teacher who told me to read Boxcar Kids to the class after lunch everyday was NICE and she told me not to worry, they were just jealous and I should be proud of my gifts.

“Anon did this in three minutes. What’s taking the rest of you so long?” - what a terrible weight to put on a child. You’re right. Not everyone can do everything.

Fucking hell.

Adults what the everloving shit is wrong with us? Please don’t treat kids like that.

Okay.

But here’s the other thing:

If there’s any time in your life that it’s easy to acquire skills with no apparent effort it’s when you’re a child surrounded by a support system that is engaged in making sure that you can acquire those skills.

It took three adults, two dictionaries, and several hours a day to teach me enough sight-words to throw me into “look at baby genius*” territory but from my perspective as a little kid I was just reading cool stories.

I spent four hours a day in the yearbook room and ditched and failed other classes so that I could work on the yearbook. I collected hundreds of magazines to get an eye for layout. But from my perspective as a teenager it was a fun activity that I did with the closest thing I had to friends.

I’m sure that there are some skills that you had a natural aptitude for, some things that came naturally. But I’m also sure that you didn’t learn those skills with no effort, it’s just that now as an adult with a life and other shit going on it takes more effort to learn to do things.

In all likelihood you weren’t a savant who did everything perfectly the first time you tried. It just seems that way because even really smart kids don’t know when they’re bad at things and are mostly being compared against other kids (with the few rare exceptions of music prodigies or math prodigies or those kids who end up in science grad programs at 12 and boy howdy do I think there’s a whole other can of worms when it comes to the way child prodigies* interact with the world).

You wanna know what probably saved my life in the last few years?

That “anti-capitalist love notes” tumblr post.

You are worth more than your productivity.

I was actually kind of offended the first time I saw that post on my dash. “No I’m not,” I thought. “You’re only worth what you can do, everyone knows that. People care about what you do for them.”

And why the hell would I think anything else? That’s what I’d learned for pretty much my whole life.

It took me a really long time to understand that I was wrong. I matter outside of what I can do for people or how well I perform. I matter more than being able to perfectly recite poetry from memory or do calculations on command or sit down at a piano and play a piece I’ve never played by sight-reading it.

And you matter outside of that too. You’re more than your performance, you’re better than being gifted. There are people who love you for the way you make them laugh and how you listen to their stories and for the simple joy of your presence.

It’s nice to be clever, it’s handy in a lot of situations even if it does come with a lot of baggage for some people.

But god damn, it’s important to be kind.

* Personally I have issues with the way that society constructs the concepts of giftedness, genius, and prodigies. There are a lot of “gifted” kids who were the kids who scored in the top 5% of their class in school but there are also gifted kids who were doing high-level math or reading novels as toddlers; there are prodigies who showed an aptitude for music young and who were then schooled in that instrument to the exclusion of all other activities (and I bet there are a fair number of kids who might be considered prodigies if they were trained to play flute for nine hours a day and didn’t have friends but thankfully we don’t *do* that to very many people - side note, ask me my opinion about olympic athletes some time). Words like “genius” and “gifted” are very nearly meaningless and almost *never* accurately reflect skills proficiency or long-term success or are reflected in income or respect. People think that geniuses are hypercompetent robots with their shit together but literally every adult I know with a genius-level IQ is some variety or other of total fucking tire fire.

#congratulations you have unlocked level two of my tragic backstory #long post

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orlissa · 4 years

Text

Since @agenthaywood and I talked about this the other day, and since apparently I’m a bit of an insomniac, here it comes: a little intro to the Hungarian educational system. Because it’s a mess.

First of all, we need to talk about two things: classes and the matura.

Unlike (as far as I understand) the US, where you have kinship with the people you were in the same year with, in Hungary, you have kinship with the people you belonged to the same class with. Classes are teams, closed entities. It’s 20-odd (elementary school) to thirty-odd (high school) people, who have most of their classes together, except for specializations. So everyone in the class has basically the same schedule for the whole duration of elementary/high school. They take school trips together. They often compete as a team against other classes in their year.

And then the matura--the matura is the national, centralized exam that marks the end of high school. Each student has to take it in at least five subjects: Hungarian Literature & Grammar, Math, History, one foreign language, and one freely chosen subject (back when I did this, it could be anything. Now I think it must be some science subject). You can take each of those on two levels: “middle” or “advanced.” The middle levels happen in your own school, overssen by your own teachers. The advanced levels happen in unfamiliar schools (one appointed for each subject in each district), and you’re never examined by your own teachers. Advanced levels are of course harder, but the percentages for each grade are also lower. As far as I know, you have to take at least one advanced level matura. They happen in two rounds: the written round starting in early May (Lit & Grammar on Monday, Math on Tuesday, History on Wednesday, English/German on Thursday of the first week, with all the other subjects following in the next two weeks or so), and then the oral round in mid-late June (the middle level orals happen throughout a 2-3 days period, a person doing all of their oral exams in one go). The outcome of your maturas, given in points, determine your college admissions (but, like, for example if you wanna go to med school, your elective subject needs to be Chemistry or Biology. If you wanna get into an English as a foreign language program, you have to take an advanced level English matura. Every year, there’s a huge book listing all the programs in all the universities in the country, where you can check what are the exact requirements for each program).

Personally, I took advanced level Lit & Grammar and English, middle level Math and History, and middle level Art/Art History. All the programs I applied for were in the field of humanities, all asking for Lit/English/History/whatever, so I really only did Art for “fun.” I got 98% on English, 95 or 96% on Art, 90-something% on History, 90% on Math, and 84% on Lit (for middle levels, A starts at 80%; for advanced levels, it starts at 60%), which meant that after some complicated math, my overall score was, I think, 468 out of 500. That year you had to have 422 points to get into my first choice

Okay, so, yeah XD I told you it was complicated XD

Anyway, the actual educational ladder: kids go to elementary school at 6/7 (back when I was in school, if you were born during the summer, so you didn’t turn six by the time the school year ended, your parents could decided to keep you in kindergarden for one more year. Now I think if the kid turns 6 by the time the school year starts in september, he or she is required to start school), and it consists of grades 1-8, which is divided into two parts: junior (grades 1-4), where all the classes are held in the same classroom, taught by the same teacher, and senior (grades 5-8) part, where the students migrate between classrooms, and each subject is taught by a different teacher. BUT the class itself remains an entitiy--you attend grade 4 and grade 5 classes with the same people.

Then comes high school. High school application works pretty much like college application: 8 graders take a centralized, national-wide test on Math and Literature in January, and their scores there, plus their previous grades determine which high school they have applied to will take them. But, like... even this system is not as clear cut as it might seem at the first glance :D for example, I didn’t take the centralized test. My first choice of high school (where I eventually went) was out of town/district, and it was a special program that required its own entrance exams. My other choices were withing my district, but the december before I started high school I came second out of 200+ at an IT studies competition, which meant that I had “admission exam amnesty” or whatever. Basically all the high schools within the district were obliged to accept me on merit if I applied to them.

Okay, so elementary school finished, you go to high school--but not necesarrily the one that is the closest to your home. Instead, as stated above, you apply to different high schools, based on which one is the best/strongest/closest to your personal level. So, basically, C students will mostly end up in one class with other C students, B students with other B students, A students with other A students... You get the picture.

High school generally lasts 4 years, however, there are other programs as well. There are 8 and 6 year long programs--they have their own admission exams, and they start after grade 4 or 6. These are usually good schools, often require tuition fees and focus on foreign languages. Meanwhile, 5 years long programs start after grade 8, and have a “0th” grade which focuses on a foreign language (I went to a program like that--I had 9 English classes a week in the first year).

For example, my high school had 4 class in each year: Class A and B were 6 years long programs, A focusing on languages and B on Math, class C was a 4 years long program (general curriculum), and Class D was 5 years long (special government-funded program for gifted kids from difficult backgrounds.)

Also, there are different kinds of high schools. What I wrote above applies to what we call “gimnázium”--gimnázium teaches no vocation, and instead focuses on readying people for university. You are basically expected to go to university if you go to a gimnázium. Then, as per as current terminology, there are szakgimnáziums: they also ready you for university, and they end with the matura exams, but they also focus on a specific (usually white collar, such as accounting, healthcare, electric engineering, etc.) vocation. People who go to a szakgimnázium have to take a matura in their chosen vocation. And then there are szakközépiskolas: in a szakközépiskola, students study a specific (usually blue collar) vocation, and take an exam on that vocation after three years of study. Szakközépiskola do not end with the matura exams--if you wanna take the maturas, you have to stay for two extra years.

So, yeah... I told you it’s complicated :D

#hungary #personal #education

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piesandstars · 4 years

Text

Raising Werewolf Cubs Under His Bed

Posted on Archive of Our Own here.

Riddle laughed his high laugh again.

“It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student… on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls… but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked.”

Um… hey. Hey, Tom? Mr. Riddle? Dramatic ass “I am Lord Voldemort” person-sir? Do you mean human children???!!! Hey Joanne, do you mean human children cause werewolf cubs? Werewolf cubs have gotta be human children.

There are four explanations for this line that I can think of. One Doylist (explained out of text), three Watsonian (explained within canon).

The first explanation: JK Rowling did not come up with werewolf lore until after she had written the third book. That explains why she keeps writing about people being afraid of werewolves in the Forbidden Forest even when it wasn’t a full moon and shit like this. She just hadn’t come up with the facts yet.

This explanation, while probably correct, is boring as hell and we will be disregarding it.

Explanation number two barely warrants an entry. Riddle was trying to think of a magical creature and just said werewolves without considering what that would mean. This is somehow more boring than explanation one.

The third explanation is more fun. Wizards are, to put it kindly, mildly, and with some of the love in my heart, dumb as shit.

The Hogwarts education system is shaky at best. Thinking of how little math wizards know makes me want to cry. I would say something like “The class of History of Magic is so poorly taught that I doubt any of the students even know that ___” but like. The class of History of Magic is so poorly taught that I can’t come up with an obvious example of Wizarding history.

Due to the shaky Hogwarts education system, I can partially excuse Ron for being stupid in the area of “what are werewolves” when he talks about werewolves in the Forbidden Forest in book two, as of his two Defence teachers the more competent was Quirinus Quirrell.

(Lockhart’s teachings on lycanthropy involve him curing someone of it by sticking a wand down their throat and saying a spell, which… If it were that easy then Remus Lupin would have had a much better life. If he could fix his furry little problem by eating a wand, the man would have had unicorn hair and cypress soup every night for the rest of his life.)

(That being said, Ron should know more about werewolves. Molly or Arthur should have taught their kids things like that.)

Tom Riddle, in contrast to Ron, went to Hogwarts before the position was cursed. Given that he was the one who cursed it, this makes sense. Riddle had a stable education that, theoretically, involved a competent professor. He should know better.

But also, wizards are dumb as shit.

They seem to have no standardization to their education except for aiming for the OWLs and NEWTs. What educational standards has the Ministry released for teachers to follow? Probably none, that would be too competent. (Ignoring book five, ew.) Just because werewolves were covered in DADA during Harry’s time at Hogwarts doesn’t mean they were in Riddle’s. Maybe they were covered in Care of Magical Creatures, which Riddle would almost certainly not take. Or maybe they weren’t covered at all.

So maybe Tom Riddle hasn’t learned about werewolves in school. He knows about them when he’s older though, so what gives?

Here’s the thing. This Tom Riddle hasn’t had his dark magic field trip yet, the one he goes on after he graduates. What if he doesn’t know about werewolves, but he thinks he kinda gets the gist, and, being Voldemort, assumed he was correct.

Hagrid could have been raising puppies under his bed and Riddle could have been like. “Ah, yes. These are werewolf babies. I am correct on this and will not be corrected by anyone ever because I am the pinnacle of all things knowledge.”

Diary!Tom Riddle is #ForeverSixteen. He is a teenager who insists on being called “Flight of Death” (or, incidentally, Flight from Death, which, yeah). He wears eyeliner, he listens to fascist!MCR, he wants to commit genocide, you know, just regular teenage boy things. Yikes.

(Can you imagine 72-year-old Voldemort having to interact with his 16-year-old self? This insolent boy who doesn’t even know what werewolves are? Harry wouldn’t have had to destroy the Horcrux, Voldemort would do it himself to get the kid to stop talking.

Tom Riddle, age 16: “Lord Voldemort is my past, present, and future.”

Tom Riddle, age 70ish: “You’re about to be past due if you don’t shut up.”)

Anyway, that’s our third explanation. Tom Riddle is dumb as shit. This is backed up by the fact that 1) he is sixteen, 2) wizarding education is a hot garbage fire, 3) grown Voldemort is dumb as shit. He refuses to do research into things he thinks he understands in his seventies, why would he be any smarter at age sixteen?

This explanation is less boring. This is the one that I consider to be the closest to canon one. This makes sense, and it involves making fun of Voldemort’s dramatic bullshit and narcissism, which I approve of.

I like this explanation.

But explanation number three? It doesn’t hold a candle to explanation four.

See, here’s the thing. I believe that Voldemort is dumb as shit and that his education could have been pretty spotty.

But I also think that the boy that has rediscovered Horcruxes by doing too much research would not be completely ignorant of what werewolves are and how they work. They’re considered to be Dark Creatures™ so he would have come across them at some point when learning of the Dark™ Mysterious® Arts©.

So what if.

What if he wasn’t talking out of his ass?

What if Hagrid WAS raising werewolf cubs under his bed? Or, not cubs. Cubs implies non-people.

What if Hagrid was keeping werewolf children under his bed while he was attending Hogwarts?

Picture this: 11-year-old Rubeus Hagrid gets his letter for Hogwarts. He’s overjoyed. His father is a bit surprised that Hagrid, a half-giant, received his letter, but he is also overjoyed.

(The fact that Hagrid got into Hogwarts at all with wizarding prejudices as they are is honestly remarkable. We know that the Wizarding World is awful about treating those who aren’t pure-blooded wizards like people and Hagrid being a half-giant isn’t exactly subtle.)

So Hagrid goes to Hogwarts. He learns. He makes friends. He probably gets in quite a bit of trouble with teachers because he’s never been someone with a ton of common sense or tendency to follow rules. Being in trouble doesn’t bother him too much, he’s young and usually, he doesn’t think about consequences for his actions. Besides, often the reward is worth the risk.

So Hagrid finishes his first year having loved the experience. And he goes home for the summer.

Let’s say that Hagrid and his dad live on the outskirts of a relatively small Muggle town. They’re not quite in the wilderness, but they’re not quite in the town proper either.

A new family, the Canids, has moved next door since Hagrid has gone off to Hogwarts. They have two children roughly Hagrid’s age, a daughter named Freki, age 12, and a son named Geri, age 10. Given Hagrid’s friendly nature and the general boredom that comes with a long summer, the three of them quickly make friends and begin to spend quite a bit of time together.

(Forgive my mixing of Norse and Latin etymology here, I refuse to spend more than three minutes googling names that mean “wolf wolf” or “moon moon” that haven’t already been used in canon.)

Then, one day when they’re hanging out, something weird happens. What exactly it is, I’m not sure. Maybe a branch breaks while they are climbing a tree and no one gets hurt, despite how high up they are. Maybe Hagrid says something unthinkingly cruel on accident, and Geri’s feelings get hurt, and Hagrid’s hair gets turned pink. Maybe Freki finds a magical creature that Muggles aren’t supposed to be able to see. Maybe their father is off fighting in World War II (it is 1941, after all), and there is some unsetting news from the front, and one of the kids causes a sunny day to become a rainstorm.

However it happens, Hagrid figures out that he’s got two underage wizards on his hands. And he knows Freki (age 12) hasn’t received her Hogwarts letter.

Hagrid has never been one to keep his mouth shut. The man at the age of 62 let slip to a group of eleven-year-olds that 1) he had a three-headed dog, 2) the name of the dog was Fluffy, 3) Fluffy was guarding something that was owned or created by Nicholas Flamel, and 4) you can put Fluffy to sleep by playing any kind of music ever. He is not one for subtlety, or for secrets. Honestly, he might have told these kids about magic on accident even if they hadn’t shown signs of being wizards.

So he confronts the kids about the strange things that have been happening. Freki goes dead pale the second he opens his mouth. She begs him not to tell anyone in the village that there is something unnatural about them, Rubeus, please, you don’t know what people will do if they find out.

Hagrid’s confused. If they find out what exactly? Having magic is wonderful, you get to go to school and learn and make friends and discover all sorts of interesting facts and creatures and-

There are two ways this could go.

Either Freki and Geri don’t know about magic and they are delighted to hear about this wonderful place where they could be themselves, and also maybe they could get some help for this weird thing that has been happening to them since they were little kids and there was a wolf attack. Hagrid has to figure out very quickly how to deal with the fact that 1) he has to explain magic to his two friends, 2) his two friends are werewolves, 3) his two friends will not be accepted into wizard society, and 4) he also has to explain that.

Or Geri and Freki already know about magic. They didn’t know that Hagrid knew (they are in a Muggle town, after all), but they knew about magic. Maybe their mom was a witch and dad a Muggle. Maybe the other way around. Maybe both parents are wizards. Maybe they are the descendants of Squibs. Whatever their parental background, they have heard about Hogwarts. And they know the reason that neither of them had gotten Hogwarts letters, know the reason neither of them would ever get Hogwarts letters. And gently, sadly, they explain to Hagrid their situation.

And as Hagrid finds out that they’re werewolves and starts to process what that means for them and their future, Hagrid becomes indignant. And I mean Hermione-founding-misguided-but-well-meaning-organization-SPEW level indignant. I’m talking “thou shalt not insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me” level indignant. Indignant might not be the right word. He gets angry.

Remus Lupin will be the first werewolf to legally receive schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But if Hagrid has something to say about it? Freki and Geri will beat the record illegally by about thirty years.

(This is a man who has been alienated his whole life for his half-giant status. He knows the feeling of being discriminated against for something he can’t change about himself.)

(This is also a man who tried to raise a dragon egg in a wooden cabin. He doesn’t necessarily think things through.)

And so begins Operation Get-My-Friends-A-Wizard-Education.

Phase One: Preliminary Education.

Hagrid spends the rest of the summer teaching these two kids everything that he can remember from his first year of school. He’s got a month. He’s got his books. He’s got enough determination to intimidate God. He’s only got the one wand, but he’ll make do.

And as late August comes? He thinks they’re ready as they’re gonna get.

Phase Two: Smuggling Time.

Now, Hagrid is an oversized lad. And one of the things that comes with being an oversized lad is oversized clothes. And one of the things that comes with oversized clothes is an oversized trunk.

Hagrid also has an undersized father with an oversized heart and an undersized sense of what is a normal and sane thing to do. (The man had sex with a giantess for Pete’s sake!)

With a little convincing, said undersized father could make said oversided trunk be even more oversized on the inside.

Geri and Freki? Welcome to the Hogwarts Express, viewed from the luxury seats of “Inside Hagrid’s Trunk.” No complimentary beverages, I’m afraid, and the view’s not great, but all the oversized clothes end up being quite comfortable cushions.

So Hagrid smuggles two kid werewolves into Hogwarts.

Phase Three: Ah, Shit, Didn’t Think This Through… Er… Live Under My Bed I’ll Bring You Homework

So they live under his bed while he teaches them everything that he is learning in all of his classes, sometimes in the dorm room when no one else is there, sometimes in the Forbidden Forest when they can sneak out, sometimes in empty rooms around the castle. They spend each full moon as deep into the forest as they can go, hoping against hope that they won’t hurt anyone and they will be safe.

(In this universe, the rumors of werewolves in the forest came from somewhere. The stories of glimpses of wolves through the trees during this time were passed down through the generations. “My aunt’s cousin’s friend’s dad saw a werewolf in the forest” may not be the most credible of sources, but in this case, it holds a grain of truth.)

They are careful, and, for a while, they don’t get caught.

How long are they at Hogwarts? I don’t know. A while, certainly. A month? A semester? A full year? Maybe they make it through to when the Chamber of Secrets was opened and everyone became more suspicious and more alert before they were found out.

Once they are caught, the Canid children are promptly sent home. After all, you can’t have monsters in a school like Hogwarts, and what are werewolves if not monsters.

The staff lets Hagrid off with a warning, thinking maybe this was a one-off occurrence of idiocy. But they do view Hagrid with more suspicion after that. After all, he brought monsters into the school. Who’s to say what he’ll let in next?

That being said, Tom Riddle’s probably just dumb as shit.

Posted on Archive of Our Own here.

#harry potter #hp #hagrid #fanfiction #kat talks #look ma i over analyzed #my fic

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srhlsx · 4 years

Text

CHAPTER 4

master | ch. 3 | ch 5

It was your lunch break a few days into the school year. You sat outside at a picnic table, no breeze in the air made it a comfortable temperature for you to take off your uniform jacket. Sitting next to you was a girl in your year, one of your friends Ichika, who had stuck with you, was rambling on about one thing or another.

You were absently inspecting the ends of your hair, picking at them mindlessly, when she asked you a question. “How are things with your fake boyfriend?”

You shrugged casually, looking in the direction of where Oikawa was walking back from the line to get food with Iwaizumi. He must’ve made a poor joke as Iwaizumi’s face scrunched up in annoyance and it looked like he wanted to hit his friend and captain.

As the two of them sat down at the table you were at, you answered. “Pretty fine,” You mumbled into your food that Oikawa generously handed over to you. “I really expected a little bit more hate and aggression from the fangirls at this point. But there’s been… nothing?”

“That’s because you’re scary, (y/n).” You looked next to you at Oikawa who was digging into his food, he looked up when he felt your eyes on him and swallowed before speaking again. “None of them are going to say shit to you, they’re too afraid.”

You pursed your lips and squinted at him in thought, not sure if you really believed what he was saying. Although you’d gathered a reputation for yourself in your school years as being just a teeny-tiny bit standoffish, you didn’t think people were actually afraid of you, that’d be ridiculous.

“Seriously,” Oikawa nodded, noticing you didn’t believe him. He looked to Ichika and Iwaizumi for confirmation. “Is she not?”

Iwaizumi spoke up first, mouth full of his lunch. “Fucking terrifying.”

That made you laugh, a real belly laugh that had you throwing your head back. “The mighty Ace of Seijoh finds me terrifying?”

Iwaizumi nodded, giving you a duh look as he rolled his eyes and went back to his food. Oikawa spoke again, pointing his chopsticks at you, “It’s why you were perfect to be my fake lover~”

“You know it’s really disgusting when you say it like that.” You almost gagged at his choice of words.

- - - - -

The final bell for the day rang and everyone was packing up their bags. Last classes were either electives or, in your case, college prep. The class you had just finished was an advanced math course, doubling for college credit if you scored enough points on the end of the year exam. It wasn’t easy, but a secret love of yours was math so you eagerly signed up when scheduling assignments came around last year.

You were still at your desk organizing your notebook and pens when a figure came up next to you, their body casting a slight shadow from where they stood between your seat and the window.

You looked up to see Iwaizumi standing above you, looking down at you expectantly. “You heading to practice?” He asked, backpack hanging loosely over one shoulder.

“Yep, but I need to stop at my locker first.”

He nodded in understanding, waiting for you to stand up and join him.

“I gotta admit, Iwa,” You started as the two of you made your way through the halls. He looked over at you, encouraging you to continue. “I did not peg you as a math guy.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes a little bit, something you were noticing was a habit of his. He looked like he didn’t want to be labeled a math guy, from the way he was slightly blushing and not overly willing to look at you. “Well,” He said, looking anywhere but at you. “The last thing I want to do in college is waste my time having to worry about a stupid math credit. Figured if I could get it out of the way now, why not?”

You nodded, giving him an impressed look - he had a pretty good point, especially if he was planning on playing volleyball when he got to college. “Advanced prep calculus is no joke - good for you.”

At this point, you reached your locker. The halls had almost cleared so it was just you and Iwaizumi as you put in the combination and twisted open the handle. Iwaizumi leaned his back against the lockers next to yours, staring mindlessly out the window as you organized your things. Something caught your eyes that didn’t quite belong, a folded piece of notebook paper with some of the fringe from where it was ripped out still clinging on.

You thought it was kind of weird, so you grabbed the paper and unfolded it, looking at the words sloppily scrawled with a brightly colored pen:

(Y/n),

It’s disgusting that you are dating dear Oikawa, how dare you taint him with your whorish tendencies. You just got out of a relationship and you decide to defile an angel like him by seducing him with that nasty trap between your legs. It won’t last. He’ll realize what you are and he’ll find someone who is actually good for him-

There was more to the note but instead of continuing to read the words, you crumbled up the piece of paper and turned to throw it in the trash bin behind you. When you turned around again to close your locker you saw Iwaizumi looking at you intently, eyes flickering to the trash bin for a moment before they landed on yours again.

“It’s fine.” You waved off, stuffing the last of your books in your backpack, grabbing your dance bag, and shutting your locker a little more firmly than was probably necessary. You might’ve been a little shaken by the choice in words, the glare on you face setting deeper into your expression the more you thought.

You started to walk towards the gyms, pulling your bags up on your shoulders a little higher. Iwaizumi studied you for a moment before pushing against the wall of lockers to catch up with you.

“Was it a fangirl note?” He asked, breaking up the silence that had formed.

You looked at him, unsure how you’d given any hint as to what the note might’ve said. You chewed at your bottom lip as you nodded at him, he was obviously waiting for some kind of reaction from you. “I said it’s fine,” You repeated, turning away from looking at him to focus on walking towards your destination. “If I couldn't handle it, I wouldn’t have said yes to the whole thing anyways.”

“Maybe,” Iwaizumi nodded thoughtfully. “But you don’t deserve to have to put up with it. Those girls can get nasty.”

You shrugged, wanting to brush it off. There are worse things to be called in the world and you were sure you’d been called them at some point, no use getting upset over something you knew was bound to happen. “It’s really nothing,” You said. “If it helps Tooru, then I can put up with it.”

“Why do you want to help him?” Iwaizumi asked a few feet from the gyms. You turned to look at him, seeing that his question was genuine and he wanted an answer. His hand was clutching the straps to his bags tightly.

“He needed my help, so I’m going to help him.” You said, looking him dead in the eyes. “Tooru may be obnoxious but he’s a good person. Everyone deserves to be allowed to live their life.”

It was a simple answer, maybe not the one Iwaizumi had been expecting. Usually when it came to people and Oikawa, they always wanted something and he’d learned to either stay out of the way or get himself involved to protect his friend. He could tell you were honest, so he shrugged it off and walked past you into the main gym where volleyball practice was about to begin.

- - - - -

You wiped at your forehead to clear away the sweat you felt starting to gather at your hairline. The studio space you were in had three walls completely covered in mirrors, ballet bars fixed to one of them, and wood flooring. It was clean, updated, and a space perfectly tailored for a dance team to practice in.

The Seijoh girl’s dance club was usually top in the Miyagi prefecture. Many girls selected to go to the high school for a chance to dance on the team, compete on a big stage, and get an opportunity to be seen by college recruits and even professional dance companies. Last year, you’d been chosen by your peers to lead the club in your third year and it was a position you took very seriously.

And while most girls who joined also took it very seriously, there were always the few who slipped through the cracks and their poor attitudes and lack of effort showed when they were pushed just slightly.

You turned to Ichika and nodded, she understood and paused the music that was playing which caused the rest of the group to stop mid-dance. “Is anyone here confused about the sequences? The moves and choreography?”

The girls looked around at each other but didn’t respond, their breathing heavy and filling the room with the sound of gasping breaths.

You nodded when no one answered, “Okay, great, we all understand it.” You paused, walking to the middle of the group and looking around at each girl individually. “Then can someone please tell me why we are moving like a pack of chickens with their heads cut off? I saw at least 3 collisions in that last run through-”

“(Y/n), we’ve gone through it like twenty times,” One of the second years spoke up. The first years looked at her with wide eyes while the third years tried their best not to laugh behind their hands at the girl. She hadn’t gotten the memo that you weren’t looking for anyone to actually answer you, let alone interrupt you.

You took in a deep breath and let it out through your nose, tilting your head to let your neck crack as you looked at the girl. You smiled an overly sweet smile at her, hoping she realized exactly what she was doing by interrupting practice. “I’m sorry, please speak up when addressing the club. What is your concern?”

You waited for her to respond, daring her, blinking slowly as you waited. She huffed out a sigh and shifted her weight to one hip as she started speaking again. “We’ve practiced it like twenty times,” She shrugged. “It’s difficult to keep doing the same thing over and over again, perfectly.”

“It’s difficult,” You mumbled, chewing on your cheek as you looked at your fellow thirds years, five total including yourself and Ichika. You nodded your head to them and shrugged, “Then quit.”

“Wh-what?” The girl stuttered.

“If it’s so difficult,” You repeated, looking her in the eyes and speaking slowly. “Then fucking quit.”

She looked around, seeing your expression matched that of the rest of the year three class members, the first years shaking in fear, and her own classmates in year two refusing to even acknowledge her. She was on her own in this battle. She opened her mouth a few times, sputtering out a response but never making a coherent sentence.

“That goes for everyone.” You stated, straightening up and walking back to the front of the space. You were repeating the words you’d heard many times over the years, but just because they didn’t come from you originally didn’t mean you meant them any less. “If at any time this is too difficult for you, if you feel like me asking for a good attitude and effort is asking for too much, please excuse yourself and find a better suited club to be a part of.”

The next day, there were three fewer members at practice.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #hq!!#hq #Iwaizumi Hajime #iwachan #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi

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gogo-karasuno · 4 years

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Haikyuu Self-Ship Meme

I was tagged by: @haikyuudreaming

Tagging: @samwrights @bokutokoutarou @queenktbigal @pinkieperil @iwaixiumi Sorry if I’ve tagged someone who has been tagged before.

Rules: Ship yourself with your favorite character and give headcanons on how your relationship would go.

Notes: I’m an overly complicated, dramatic bitch so there’s like some build up here. Y’all getting some character set up and my personal headcanon for various characters too. This is about being Self-Indulgent and damn am I here to Indulge.

--- ---

Tsukishima x Tadashi x Gogo: TsukkiYamaGo

- The Basic Background: I’m a first year student at Karasuno and from Kitagawa First along with Nozomi Watabe, the Girl’s Team Libero. We’ve been friends for so long we kind of function as the same person sometimes. Since we’ve also been playing volleyball for just as long it makes us Something on the court. Because we went to Kita we’ve possibly had classes with Kageyama, Kindachi, and Kunimi. My personality has things in common with Kunimi so I imagine were were friends and this brought Kindachi into my friends group. Since I’m a Setter (for the pout, perceptiveness, strategy, and tendency to enjoy pulling the string) I did totally did some pick up games with Kindachi and Kunimi because sometimes a person just wants to get a toss they can hit. Nozomi and I both knew were were walking into Something for the Karasuno Girls Team but we still made that call.

- Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and I are all in the same class first year. Because I selected the college prep course I knew I wouldn’t share classes with Nozomi but it is still a total bummer. I’m at a new school, kind of introverted, and sort of on my own in class because she’s not there. This should, in theory, make me pay attention in class but it absolutely does nothing of the sort.

- If I reached out to someone first it would be Tadashi. One of those “Introverts Unite” kinds of things because maybe we can at least Exist near each other. I was used as the person to split up talkative kids in school and here is no different.

- Tsukishima and I do that thing that cats do where they circle each other while deciding if they want to coexist or slap each other. We’re both sarcastic piles of salts so we’ve got to figure out how that is going to meld together. I’m also delightfully bitch on top of this and am always ready to throw down at a moment's notice. If anything, we probably get along too well while shittalking other people.

- Before the Saturday First Year’s Game for the Guys I find out they play volleyball. There’s some actual apologizing because wow they have the King of the Court. Between my own irritation at Kageyama for being so Kingly (Part of being the Control Tower is Communication) and hearing even more details from Kindachi and Kunimi...I’m just so unhappy. This school doesn’t have an Oikawa to carry through the year either.

- I hide behind Yams a lot in class so the teacher forgets I exist with how quiet I am. If I could change it up to sit behind Tsukishima I would. After meeting the Girl’s Team, my free, and not so free moments, become trying to figure out how to make this team workable? There has to be something to do with what we have to be better.

- A lot of our original Just Us interactions outside of school tend to involve notes and homework. Sometimes I miss things in class or I need extra explanation for math so Yamaguchi helps me. Tsukishima, having nothing better to do, tends to show up with him to snark while helping. However, I won’t study with them because I’m very much a solitary studying kind of person.

- Eventually we start hanging out more and more without homework or class as the excuse. Sometimes it is the three of us watching movies, listening to movies, or just kind of moving around town. Other times, Yamaguchi and I throw a volleyball around while talking with Tsukishima sitting nearby and doing his own thing. Volleyball takes front and center more after Interhigh. The girl's team did way better but they lost out in the end. So, I double down practicing with the team and on my own. This carries over to a lot of practices with those two and occasionally Nozomi. I have a strong belief that everyone should be rock solid at receiving and as someone with a pretty great serve I openly admit to targeting Middle Blockers. It is something I really encourage Tadashi to learn because "A pinch-serving, Middle Blocker screams 'Target me!' if they need a person to spike at."

- A big note from Interhigh, though, is the guys actually saw me cry for the first time. I'm so frustrated at working so hard and still losing that it turns into angry, frustrated tears rolling down my cheeks. Nozomi and I are both just seething at losing to Niiyama because we were hellbent that this would be the time we went to Nationals. The past three years was playing second fiddle to Shiratorizawa Junior and now we've got Niiyama standing in our way.

- The first thing that should be a Clue about what is building up is very much the first time I slip up and call Tsukishima "Tsukki". I'm perceptive enough to have noticed that it is very much a Yamaguchi for Tsukishima Nickname and not a "For everyone" Nickname. I go to apologize for my slipup. However, I actually get that it is okay. Tsukishima admits he doesn't mind hearing that name from me. Should be pointed out that I turn fucking scarlet because I blush at any major emotion. Yamaguchi also isn't annoyed at me using that nickname.

- I can also see Yams and I falling into a habit of being touchy with each other. When given the chance we sit close together we just do. We aren't exactly touch starved but there is something so reassuring to both of us. It goes from slight brushes to being draped around each other more or less. Sometimes Tsukishima is slightly pulled into things. We'll lean against him while animatedly talking in front of him or just watching something.

- These should be like Giant Obvious Hints that we are all clearly getting to be more than friends. It goes directly over the top of my head. Honestly, all three of us missing such hints feels like an ongoing theme for the three of us. For a perceptive trio of people we really are not picking up each other's hints.

- At some point I admit that they are like Nozomi to me in that they are don't count as "People". I'm very introverted by nature so there are very few people who don't drain me. It is a huge thing when someone doesn't tire me out let along finding two people who don't tire me out at the same time is gold.

- Since I'm a storyteller by nature I start to let it slip to them that I enjoy writing a lot and even want to make a possible podcast telling stories. Tsukki teases me because that is just how Tsukki communicates with people. But, I also see him sending me links later that night for microphones and headphones that would be great to start with. Yams is like 500% supportive from the get go. I tease them about how they should join me. We can all banter together, especially when Tsukki and I riff off each other so well.

- Summer is training for all of us and our time spent together is honestly trying to speed through summer homework. Sometimes it becomes more talking to each other over video calls or text than truly getting to see each other. I do make it a point to ask Yams about learning the Jump Float. I've got a regular jump serve but I need something extra for the next time I see Niiyama. I also Tsukki about blocking. Even if my team as a whole depends more on receiving than straight blocking there has to be something I can do.

- Sometimes before this I feel like it comes out that I have a couple of Mental Illnesses (and I headcanon as Yams having Anxiety and Depression as well) so like sometimes we are just both coping together. I also have a very poor reaction to "Fight or Flight" because I literally turned it into "Fight or Fight". It means I jump straight to arguing or spinning on my heel while swinging. Also, tears. I could see Tsukki originally being an ass about it until it quickly sinks in that this is actually a very serious thing. I could see both of them getting kind of protective over me because of these and I'm just as protective over them.

- Us actually getting together probably comes in the Exhilaration of both of us getting to go to the Spring Tournament to Represent Miyagi. There is something about doing the Impossible on top of Pure Exhaustion that just drops all sense of filters. It kind of comes out that hey we all kind of like each other as more than friends probably during a like 2am video call that night. Tsukki acts like he totally knew what was going on the entire time and was waiting on us to catch up. I admit I thought I was just misreading things a lot. Yamaguchi is probably the most together and we realize this is a thing. How do three people date? Well, that's something we're going to figure out.

- A lot of our dates are probably to museums or to the planetarium with cute cafe visits after. Tsukki's love of sweets, and mine too, mean we've been to a lot of cafes together. It is just like one of our Things.

- I am a caffeine fiend so sometimes I bring everyone coffee or one of them surprises us. Kei Tsukishima is weak for super sugary Starbucks style drinks and nothing will change my mind. Yamaguchi teases us about how much we love them. But, I will also drink coffee with two creams if it is good coffee.

- Tsukki blames Tadashi and I for the "Lame" Hobbies he picks up. My phone games expand to include the two of them so I have partners for things. Tsukki is fond of the quiz and stratgey games so we kind of get way too competative. Tadashi already pulled him into playing Pokemon but I double that need to actually play. Tsukki teases me, and to a lesser degree Tadashi, for reading fanfiction until a series he loved ended poorly. Guess who got really into Fix-It fics after that?

- I bitch and moan to Tsukki about “Playing volleyball with glasses *sucks* like. We get such ugly goggles to keep from shattering glasses.”

- Tadashi, and Tsukki who would die before saying it, thinks it is so cute when I argue up at him. I have to fully tilt my head back to make eye contact but that has never stopped me. In fact, Tsukki is a total dick about me being way, way shorter than him. Honestly, I look like an angry Porg when I argue with him. That being said, at concerts he works to get us seats where I can see.

- Yams has a picture of Tsukki and I flipping him off when he told us we look "Cute" with our sports goggles when playing. Even if we both found "cool" designs we still don't like them. But, we're also both smart enough to know that taking a volleyball to the face can crack contacts.

- I told Nozomi about us but we otherwise were just like, "People can find out when they find out." and that's going to take a while. None of us are okay with PDA beyond like hugs or handholding. It's also not something out of the ordinary with Yams and I by this point. Yeah, I'm prickly about being touched unless asked but I'm also pretty touch oriented when I've given someone the go ahead. I also get lost easily, especially when paying more attention to my phone, or get super anxious in crowds and touch calms me down.

- Akiteru nearly cried when he realized Tsukki had two partners. He cried when he realized Tsukki finally got along with a team and made a friend beyond Tadashi. Him dating Tadashi wasn't unexpected but the fact they're both dating me just causes him to have pride at coming out of shell to date people.

- Tadashi and I are flavors of nonbinary so we totally trades clothes with each other that fits sometimes. I love his hoodies and he gets my skirts or dresses sometimes. Makeup is a little out of my league beyond the basics but I could see him taking to way easier. I paint his nails a lot and introduce him to the base and top coats. I also totally braid his hair and put cute clips in it. We trade body sprays too. Tsukki glares at people who think of saying things to us.

#gogo tagged #self-shipping meme #gogo things #lots of my own headcanons #i'm poly bi and nonbinary #so i'm catering to me

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myrandomfandomramblings · 3 years

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Arrowverse Science Fair AU

~2004 National Highschool (Gr. 8-12) Science Fair

Projects:

Felicity Smoak (Gr. 9) – Computer software to detect card counters. She may or may not have hacked into online card games to test it (this wasn’t included in/on her project.)

Cisco Ramon (Gr. 8 or 9) – Piano playing robot. He thought it played better than Dante. His parents didn’t agree.

Caitlin Snow (Gr. 9) – Analysis of physiological response to various stimuli. She wanted to find stimuli that would help kids cope with traumatic experiences (say crashing their bike or losing their father.) If she was able to find something that made her mom show some/any emotion that would be a bonus.

Barry Allen (Gr. 9) – Growing crystals (lots of different and cool ones). His project started out as an attempt to make something special for Iris for her birthday but turned into an elaborate project. It ended up being a good choice because 1) it reminded Barry of his parents (the first science experiment they did together was grow Borax crystals on pipecleaner and 2) it followed Joe’s ‘your science fair project must make, not destroy things’ rule instated after Barry’s Gr. 6 project.

Alex (Gr. 9) and Kara (Gr. 8) Danvers – Birds in my Backyard. Eliza had insisted on Alex getting Kara involved in her science fair project this year. Alex was excited to show Kara the science fair experience she enjoyed but wanted to pick a topic she knew more about that Kara (her knowledge of math and science was intimidating enough without the superpowers). Seeing Kara’s interest in birds they decided to study birds in their backyard. With Alex’s design and Kara’s powers they built tall post’s and attached bird houses and feeders with differing properties. They then monitored which kinds of birds built nests and ate from where (with some help from Kara’s flight and X-ray vision). Alex also picked 5 nests from different species to chronicle the embryo and chick development. Kara enjoyed doing the project and learning about birds from Alex. The actual science fairs, not so much but those were Alex’s favourite part. Note: Streaky was locked in the house for the duration of the project so he wouldn’t eat any of the birds.

Winn Schott (Gr. 11) – Pop-up room/ room in a suitcase. Being in the foster system for the last couple years inspired Winn to design a room that collapsed to the size of a suitcase for easy transport but could expand in less than a minute into a nice-sized, fully-furnished, sound-proof room, so no matter how many times a foster kid was moved around they always had their own space and stuff. Also good for camping, travel and special short-term events (like waiting in line at conventions).

Lena Luthor (Gr. 5) – Oxygen absorbing/releasing crystal that could allow breathing underwater. After her Mum drown when Lena was four, she was determined to develop a simple way for people to breath under water. She was able to do just that by synthesizing a substance that absorbed and stored large amounts of oxygen then released it slowly (so if someone held in in their mouth, they could breathe underwater). She was happy and excited that her mom and older brother were interested in her project but a little frustrated and concerned that they were so focused on its ability to absorb all the oxygen from a room (in a big enough amount). Although she supposed it could be used in that capacity to control/extinguish fires. Note: although in elementary school, Lena got to compete against the high schoolers since her project was so advanced for her age.

Sara Lance (Gr. 11) – The Biomechanics of Dance and Martial Arts. As punishment for skipping classes, then sassing her teacher and principal when they tried to discipline her for skipping classes, Sara had to complete a science fair project. To make the best of it Sara chose something that interested her. In hindsight she wished she hadn’t. Her project was so good she was chosen to represent her school at the state and national science fair.

Ronnie Raymond (Gr. 9-12?)- Structural design to minimize Superman related damage in Metropolis. Ronnie was proud of his project and had enjoyed analyzing the powers of Metropolis’ hero, but he lost any chance he had at winning when he decided to leave his project to go flirt with Caitlin. At least Kara, whose project was next to his, seemed interested.

Hartley Rathaway – something to do with sound waves

Lily Stein (Gr. 11) – designing and comparing different miniaturized forms of renewable energy sources. She had some help from her dad.

Patty Spivot – Recreation of crime scene evidence using food models. A bunch of her friends (her whole cabin actually) from her summer camp for those interested in law enforcement came to support her.

- Maggie Sawyer – seemed really interested in the bird project

- Ralph Dibny – found every project that said it was OK to touch. His favourite was slime. To Patty’s surprise he didn’t break anything.

- Dinah Drake – hung out with Patty most of the time. Talked to Hartley, beside her, about his project on sound waves for a bit (seemed kinda interested). Patty joined her when she got into a conversation with Sara, across the way, and Laurel about the implications of her biomechanics project in fighting and self-defence. The rest of the time they talked about that Vince guy from camp Dinah thought was cute.

- Eddie Thawne – he hung out with Patty most of the time too but did do a lap of the fair with Iris, who was there supporting Barry, when she accepted his offer to buy her something at the concession.

Notable events:

- Clark came to see Alex and Kara’s project and brought James and Lois with him. Kara and Clark (very subtly) tested the models on the project beside them that had been abandoned and were said to be superman proof/resistant. They were very impressed to discover the models did indeed stand-up to heat vison, freeze breath and super-strength leading Clark to believe the student had a bright future. James spent most of his time talking to Winn about his pop-up room project because, “Don’t you think these would be way better than cubicles, the Daily Planet should definitely purchase some.”

- Cat Grant, a young reporter from the National City Tribune pushing a stroller, came around and interviewed all the contestants because, “What better place to find the next world changing innovator or innovation” as she put it when she stopped to talk to Clark (more like flirt Kara thought). Alex used Clark distracting Cat as an opportunity to play with the baby in the stroller. This was the only time during the entire science fair Alex was distracted, except maybe when Maggie had come, but they mainly talked about the project like Alex did with everyone, which left Alex wondering why it felt different. During their entire interview Cat called Kara Kira, much to her annoyance. At least the baby seemed to like her. This interview sparked a conversation between Kara, Lois and Clark about journalism which Iris overhead while she was visiting Barry and joined in.

- Graduate students Ray Palmer and Curtis Holt were volunteer judges and ticket takers. Curtis wore a varsity jacket over his shirt and tie which covered his name tag, but at every project he judged he would describe every aspect as terrific, so the contestants started calling him Mr. Terrific. While judging Barry’s project they began a discussion about their favourite elements/minerals/gems. Barry couldn’t decide so joked he liked Barium. Ray shared his love for dwarf star alloy with a ‘quick’ lecture about its rumoured properties and potential uses. Curtis listed at least 10 compounds essential for modern tech as he flip-flopped back and forth trying to decide a favourite and Lex Luthor who was visiting his sister’s project beside them interjected that he favoured kryptonite. While taking tickets Curtis witnessed the following interaction. He asked Damian Darhk, who was carrying baby Nora, what brought him to the science fair. He responded with “These are the brightest young minds in the country and being young means they are malleable. So, there is nowhere better to recruit future talent for my enterprise.” Malcolm Merlyn, who was behind, him added “I know exactly what you mean with what the world’s coming to we’re going to need a bright mind to save it.” This led Tommy, who was accompanying him, to say “I thought we were just here to support the Queen’s.” Then one of the other judges, Dr. Harrison Wells aka Eobard Thawne in disguise, added “No your Dad is right. This world’s next HERO could be in this very room. I’ve already made a list of students to keep my eye on.” He pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket. On it Curtis saw four names: Hartley Rathaway, Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow and Ronnie Raymond. This led to a long conversation between the three men about numerous threats to society, the country and the world and the possible drastic solutions that would need to be employed to stop them. When they left Curtis turned to Ray and asked, “Was it just me or were those Doomsday Dudes really creepy?” “What” Ray replied his attention clearly being pulled from elsewhere. But before Curtis could answer a voice behind him said “Doomsday Dudes is a terrible nickname you should call them the Legion of Doom.” Curtis turned to find Cisco. “Just saying,” he continued, “anyway I heard there’s free Big Belly Burger for the contestants. When’s that coming?” Ray had missed the entire conversation Curtis was asking about because he had been making funny faces at baby Nora the whole time hoping to make her smile or laugh but she had just stared at him with her big blue eyes.

- Queen consolidated gave out a $1500 scholarship and a summer internship at the applied sciences division. This year Moira and Robert had made Oliver come and brought 9-year-old Thea. Oliver was tasked with watching Thea who ran around the entire science fair wanting to look at and touch all the projects even the ones with big ‘Do Not Touch’ signs on them. She spent at least an hour trying to get everybody around the robot pianist to sing and dance with her. Most people ignored her although she was able to get Cisco, Winn, Stein, Joe, Kara (who kept trying to get Alex to join) and to Oliver’s surprise Malcolm Merlyn all to sing with her and they were all surprisingly good. She also got many people to dance including the Lance girls. She even convinced Cisco to make the robot play some of her favourite songs from Disney movies. Barry was very happy that he was able to convince Iris to dance with him for a couple songs with just a little encouragement from Thea and despite Kara’s constant encouragement Alex only agreed to dance when Maggie asked. Oliver had to present his family’s award which went to Felicity. When her name was announced Donna yelled “Woohoo, that’s my daughter! Way to go sweetie!” which earned a whispered “Mom, ssshh” and accompanied eye roll from Felicity as she headed to the stage with her head down and cheeks flushed. When she got onstage Oliver presented her with her award and Felicity began to babble, “Thanks. This is so cool. I’m such a big fan of yours… well not yours… your company… your family’s company. But uh you seem cool too. I could be a fan of yours, but not like a creepy stalker fan just like a normal supportive fan, ya know. I’m sorry, I’m rambling, it’s just, I don’t know what to say. Your very handsome… and I just said that out loud. I’m so sorry.” She stops and whispers “come on Smoak, pull yourself together,” then takes a deep breath before addressing Oliver again, “Thank-you again for the award and I look forward to working with you, or for you. I’m just gonna go now.” Oliver couldn’t help smiling as she left and thinking that just maybe if she had been around when Thea was partnering everyone up to dance he may have just participated.

- Kara quickly got bored of standing by her project and started wandering around to talk to the other contestants. She spent a good chunk of time talking to Barry. Tried to join in on a heated debate between Felicity, Cisco and Winn about the best language to code in but quickly left when she had no idea what they were talking about. She ended up spending most of her time with Lena. They talked about their projects, their lives and interests and about dealing with new and scary situations especially when you feel different from everyone else and learnt that they were both adopted. However, the whole time they were talking Lena’s eyes kept scanning the room as if waiting for something to jump out and scare her. Kara learnt why when a woman Kara thought must be Lena’s mother showed up and menacingly questioned why she was distracting her daughter.

- J’onn came in disguise to check out the Danvers sister’s project

#arrrowverse #this got way out of hand #supergirl #legends of tomorrow #the flash #arrow

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things2mustdo · 3 years

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Face it, the mainstream media is not only full of contradictions, but deep-seated, institutionalized biases. When a male or conservative does something, it is often considered horrendous. Yet when a female, liberal or a member of another “special” group does the same thing, passes are given or journalists’ eyes are averted.

Social media users with common sense political opinions have already started to compile these glaring double standards. Return Of Kings and its supporters should continue doing the same thing.

So here are five of the most egregious recent examples of hypocritical mainstream media madness:

1. Use of dead veterans’ families at political rallies or conventions

When Khizr and Ghazala Khan appeared at the Democratic National Convention to lambaste Donald Trump for his views on Muslim immigration and supposed behavior, commentators and journalists went wild with fanfare. Their son Humayun, a Muslim soldier, had died in Iraq. Trump was attacked for allegedly grandstanding about and minimizing Humayun’s death.

Meanwhile, many of these same newsmen and women, including Rachel Maddow’s stooge Steve Benen, derided the Republicans for featuring Pat Smith, mother of Benghazi fatality Sean Smith, as a speaker at their own Convention. Mrs. Smith had laid into Hillary Clinton over the latter’s role in and perceived indifference to her son’s death in Libya. So one family became heroes to the media for going public after their tragic loss, while another was portrayed as so weak in their grief that they were manipulated by big, bad Republicans into talking.

Moreover, Trump had nothing to do with Sean Smith’s death. Compare this to Clinton, who was the Secretary of State at the time of the American deaths at Benghazi and whose State Department had received numerous calls for assistance. Considering that Sean Smith and others died alongside U.S. Ambassador Christopher Stevens, the first American ambassador to be killed whilst serving since 1979, the woefully insufficient security precautions taken by the Obama Administration and Secretary Clinton should not have transpired. But this spotlight on Clinton does not make for good (liberal) news.

2. Psychiatric records for a war hero vs. medical records of a pathological liar

Countless liberals, both in the media and within other leftist cabals like mainstream Hollywood, have attacked those questioning Hillary Clinton’s health as “misogynists,” “sexists” and other undesirables. When these tags are unable to be used, leftists claim that even piecemeal doubts about her physical condition are nothing but conspiracy theories on par with Roswell UFOs and lizard people running the world.

Yet eight years ago, these same people were frothing at the bit to out John McCain for his supposedly poor health. Most perversely of all, they homed in on his decorated military service, suggesting he had Presidentially disqualifying mental health conditions from his service in the Vietnam War and the multiple years he spent as a prisoner-of-war. “Where are his psychiatric records?” bellowed one piece from Salon, in addition to a number of other articles that more than hinted at the same topic.

Whilst I, like many of you, revile his putrid, watered-down “Republican” policies on many issues, McCain had gargantuan balls in Vietnam. Here is a man who spent more time as a tortured prisoner-of-war, including a stay in the notorious Hanoi Hilton, than Barack Obama spent in the US Senate. As the son of the commander of US forces in Vietnam, McCain received numerous offers of repatriation from the North Vietnamese. He refused and would only accept being returned home once fellow American soldiers captured before him were released. By contrast, Hillary lacks the mental fortitude to tell the truth most of the time, not even after she’s had seizures, coughing fits, and dramatic collapses on camera!

3. Sexualizing political candidates (and removing their genitals)

When an artist by the name of Lushsux painted a mural of a scantily-clad Hillary Clinton, a local Melbourne, Australia council and numerous global commentators derided it as “misogyny” and “sexual objectification.” “Take female politicians seriously!” was the crux of their shrill arguments against the rendering. Lushsux then trolled his critics by repainting the mural so Hillary was dressed in an Islamic burqa. Soon after, multiple statues of a nude and testicle-less Donald Trump appeared in American cities. Unlike the Hillary artwork, the proliferation created huge fanfare and delight amongst both prominent leftists and run-of-the-mill liberal voters. Why is one act so offensive and the other so funny, particularly in age where body-shaming and mocking someone’s appearance is meant to be so taboo?

Most of the critical commentaries about the Trump statues that appeared in the mainstream media, of which there were few, failed to take into account one glaring significance of the testicle-less Trump. Short of them being violently taken or hacked off, how exactly could Trump have no balls? Imagine the furore if a statue, mural or other representation of Hillary Clinton had lacked breasts or shown her vagina circumcised/mutilated. “They’re condoning violence against women!” would be the stock-standard answer from liberals and their even more deranged SJW cousins.

4. Lesbian’s Olympic marriage proposal vs. heterosexual male’s Olympic marriage proposal

This is bad and misogynistic:

This is love and should be applauded:

Leftists rejoiced when Olympic official Marjorie Enya asked her partner, rugby sevens player Isadora Cerullo, to marry her using a microphone. Love wins, right, especially when it’s gay love? But when Chinese athlete Qin Kai asked silver medalist He Zi to marry him, the knives from the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) came out. The BBC, unfortunately taxpayer-funded, published an article insinuating that Qin Kai was attempting to control He Zi with the very public marriage proposal. Not only could it be control, it could be awfully pernicious “male control.” Coverage of Enya’s proposal to Cerullo, however, got the broadcaster’s tick of approval.

If either of the two proposals is a form of control or narcissistic, it was the lesbian one. Unlike the Chinese diver, who was competing individually, the lesbian proposed to was part of the Brazilian team, which had not even been awarded a medal. Brazil had come ninth and that night Australia had beaten New Zealand for the gold medal. He Zi may not have won the gold medal, but she had actually participated in the final. But do not let facts get in the way of a good male-bashing.

5. Objectifying men vs. objectifying women

Cosmopolitan has established itself as a dual enabler of both ditzy female airheads and SJW political freaks. Over time, the magazine has come out strongly against countless normal displays of male sexuality, admonishing men who appreciate female breasts and buttocks for being “horrible.” Of the many Cosmopolitan pieces to take this line, an article in mid-2014 takes the cake for its ridiculous shaming of harmless, healthy behaviors. Ironically, though, covers for this publication feature the same sorts of thin, healthy women that men desire most in the first place.

Fast-forward a mere two years and Cosmopolitan went to the extraordinary effort of cataloguing 36 men whose crotch bulges tickled their fancy. Of course, numerous other articles during that time had objectified men in a way considered misogynistic when males do it to women, but the timing was amusing. After so much talk of valuing female athletes, whose physical accomplishments are far less than men, for their work and not their bodies, Cosmopolitan celebrated the years of sacrifice of male athletes by effectively taking photos of their barely clothed genitalia.

We could keep on going

Many other hypocritical pieces were penned about these situations, not just the ones I have referenced. Then there’s the great number of other articles we could assess and critique on separate issues. You may be convinced, and rightfully so, that the mainstream media is inherently biased. But we need to take this to the next level and disseminate the proof to wider audiences.

Journalists and commentators will continue their bad habits, that much is clear. What matters now is fighting back. Complaining about double standards only goes so far. Exposing them in an organized fashion stands a better much chance in helping us to arrest and then reverse this institutional bias.

As Return Of Kings readers, you are our extra eyes and ears. If you find more examples of extreme leftist media bias, bring it to our attention.

https://www.returnofkings.com/19995/anti-female-stem-bias-a-bayesian-explanation

The New York Times recently ran a long piece exploring the history of women in STEM fields and attempting to explain the ever-present difference between men and women in performance and participation in these fields. The article begins by citing research on perceptions of female aptitude in math and science:

“Researchers at Yale published a study proving that physicists, chemists and biologists are likely to view a young male scientist more favorably than a woman with the same qualifications. Presented with identical summaries of the accomplishments of two imaginary applicants, professors at six major research institutions were significantly more willing to offer the man a job. “

She shares an anecdote that is supposed to display the prejudice of professors against females in the field, but instead illustrates one valid reason for the bias displayed by the Yale study:

“Other women chimed in to say that their teachers were the ones who teased them the most. In one physics class, the teacher announced that the boys would be graded on the “boy curve,” while the one girl would be graded on the “girl curve”; when asked why, the teacher explained that he couldn’t reasonably expect a girl to compete in physics on equal terms with boys.”

Enter Bayes’ Theorem

Bayes’s theorem is a foundational principle of statistics and probability that allows us to update our estimations about the trueness of a fact based on new evidence. The math of Bayes’ theorem is simple and elegant, and the overarching idea is powerful — we can use evidence in a formalized manner to change the probability that something may be true, and this can often have non-intuitive results.

The classic example of Bayes in action is medical tests — for example, if 1% of women have breast cancer, and a mammogram detects the cancer 80% of the time with a 10% false positive rate, what is the probability that a positive result means the woman has cancer? If a mammogram is positive, the chance of cancer is less than 8% due to the presence of false positives, as well as the low baseline population rate of cancer.

What does this have to do with women and STEM fields? Readers of this site are familiar with the allure that even a plain looking girl can have at the height of her availability and youth. This isn’t just a factor when getting free drinks at the bar – it extends to the classroom, hiring for jobs, treatment in everyday life, and many other areas. Girls in primary and secondary school are judged to be better students, despite boys showing a significant advantage in standardized tests starting around middle school. The article highlights the ways that women are supposedly discouraged by the system, but makes no mention of the advantages they enjoy.

Put simply, women are more likely to be handed accomplishments without having to work for them, both due to the power of their sexuality and as unconscious overcorrection for their supposed disadvantages in opportunity. Given an applicant with a certain pedigree – a Ph.D, say, from a top graduate program —we will have a certain estimation of that person’s intelligence and aptitude. However, the “false positive” rate on those qualifications identifying extremely high aptitude is likely to be much lower for a man, who has not enjoyed the advantages of a feminized education system, catch-up programs, and the hint of his sexuality influencing the evaluations of his superiors.

The bias against hiring a woman whose qualifications are equal to a man, and their subsequent lower salary offer, is simply a use of Bayesian inference. It accounts for the implicit probability that the female will not be as good as her résumé suggests, to say nothing of the chance that she will leave her job to begin a family and leave her employer empty-handed at some point in the future. If, as the example above states, both men and women implicitly behave as if men are superior in math and science, we must give some consideration that this is a possibility.

If Men Are Better At Math/Science — What’s The Big Deal?

The media is encouraged to sing the praises of women where they excel compared to men, and females indeed show demonstrated advantages in many cognitive areas. They are better at language acquisition, picking up on non-verbal cues, and we are all familiar with their evolved capacity for psychological manipulation. Many would suggest that women have better organizational skills. They are incarcerated for violent crimes less often, are less prone to risky behavior, and are more resilient to psychological trauma such as PTSD.

But when it comes to exploring why men have long-demonstrated advantages in certain disciplines, the media scrabbles to ascribe the boogeyman of injustice perpetrated on the protected class. The article is quick to dismiss the repeatable and longitudinal difference between males in females in standardized testing, a long-standing form of evaluation that every college and grad school uses to give out valuable admissions spots. It also does not mention the lack of female representation in technology entrepreneurship, a field that is less dependent on credentials and more on individual drive, creativity, and aptitude.

It could certainly be true that women are discriminated against AND that they are simply less common at the far right of the aptitude bell curve necessary for competitive positions in academia. But I challenge you to find this idea entertained in any mainstream publication despite the mountains of circumstantial evidence. Larry Summers was tarred and feathered for even mentioning research on population dynamics as a potential driver of this difference. The lesson here is that, when you begin an “inquiry” by presupposing the conclusion, you will end up with a politically correct and eminently intellectually dishonest worldview.