#The poor guy got smacked on the forehead with a big textbook and hit the back of his head on the floor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

selstonbloggergw · 7 years

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Heathers AU!

It's never a “good morning.” At Voltron high. Like any other school you have your set groups, all picked out for you before anyone has a chance to actually think it over. Voltron High was no different...yet. A young boy named Lance Sawyer was standing in front of his blue, chipped locker in the usual dingy corridor he'd become familiar with. A shabby and torn book between his hands. Now Lance didn't really fit in...anywhere. Not even the nerds would take him. His usual outfit was a loose fitting denim jacket with a colourful scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. Ripped and worn jeans seemed to contrast his floral shirt. “September 1st 1989. Dear diary…” Oh yeah, he also kept a diary. And one would wonder why this poor kid has no friends. “I believe I'm a good person! You know I think there's good in everyone, but here we are, first day of senior year and I look around at these kids that I thought I'd known and I ask...what happ-” Lance was rudely pushed out of his own time and hit his head straight into the locker door. Looking behind him, a group of “popular” kids ran off, yelling things along the lines of “freak, slut, burnout, bug eyes, poser and lard ass.” Y’know all of them classics. Only 1 of them even applied to Lance so it baffled him to think they'd use such textbook insults. It wasn't hard to insult him they just weren't trying hard enough. Lance turns back to his book with a sigh. He picks it up and writes while making his way down the corridor. “We were so tiny. We all seemed happy and shiny. Playing things like tag and chasing each other around. There weren't any groups back then. All we did was sing, clap and bake cookies...Hunk used to like baking. For some reason getting bigger was the trigger but I just have to hold my breath. At least we're graduating soon!” As Lance finished his sentence a jock slumped him particularly hard in the shoulder before turning around and yelling “WHITE TRASH!” Rubbing his shoulder Lance grimaced and turned back to his book muttering “I'm not even white…” “College seems like a paradise but I'll be lucky if im not dead by June. I know life can be ‘beautiful’ and all I can do is pray for a better way. We changed once, maybe we can change again…?” He looked up from his book when he heard a thud from the other side of the hall. A hipster looking boy had just been shoved to the floor by some much larger boys who were now high fiving each other. Looking from his book to the scene he rubbed his eye before murmuring out a faint “Just not today.” He knew how this would play out but he did it anyway. Extending a hand to the boy on the floor, Lance smiled and nodded. Immediately he was met with a glare. And a shove. Sighing for the 50th time that morning he simply made his way to the canteen. While on the way he continued his writing. “Once I get my diploma I can blow this town. I'm currently fighting a strong urge to strike a match and set this dump a blaze.” By the time He'd written all of his thoughts down he'd already made it to the creepy old canteen. A green tray that was digging into his side was jerked away quickly as the kid behind him had their food slammed to the floor. The jock in question threw his hands to his face before laughing out “Oops!” Another part of Lance’s diary was the “character analysis” part. All his recognisable classmates had a page. Under the boy who was laughing at the kid trying to pick up their lunch it wrote “Zarkon Sweeney: Third year as linebacker, eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick!” No change it seems… In among all the commotion Lance seemed to accidentally catch Zarkons eye. With all the grace of a cat in a bathtub, Zarkon marched over and poked at his shoulders. “What was that skank?! You got something to say?”

Lance swayed slightly before averting his eyes around hurriedly as if searching for some sort of escape, a magic door to take him away. “Haha no! I didn't say anything! I don't even know how to English speak!” Was all he could say in his hurry. It was obvious by his tut that Zarkon didn't buy it, who would? But he didn't continue and turned back to his group of jocks. Ugh, how Lance hated them all. While trying to regain a small amount of composure a tap came to his shoulder again. He turned himself around and was fully prepared to fight for his lunch money, only to be greeted by the biggest smile he'd ever seen, a smile that could instantly make him happy. “Hey Shay” “Hey!” Shay seems to look behind him, as if debating whether to help the kid with his lunch all over the floor. She wanted to, Lance knew she wanted to. But bless her massive heart, she was too scared of rejection. Quickly, Lance licks his finger and flicks through to one of his first diary entries. “Shay Dunnstock, my best friend since diapers! She's got a huge heart, but around here, that's not nearly enough.” Clutching the diary to his chest, Lance smiled happily. Shay was Lance’s beacon of hope. She had stayed unchanged from these years in hell. Shay seemed to look at the book and smile before looking Lance back in the face. “We still on for movie night?” Shoving his book into a tattered little satchel that Lance tried to pass as a bag, he moved along the lunch line and grabbed an apple. “Yeah, you're on Jiffy pop detail.” Shay shuffled along behind the barrier for the lunch line. “And I rented the princess bride!” She said happily, hands coming together so she could rest her hands on them. Turning around to look at her for a few seconds before turning back to the lunch lady and dropping his money into her hands, Lance sighed. “Again? Don't you have it memorized by now?” Which wasn't even an exaggeration, Lance hears her mumble the words when watching. She rubs her neck before holding onto Lance’s arm as they walked back to the table. “What can I say? I'm a sucker for happy endings!” They were about to sit at the table in the back of the room. No one ever sat there because of the location...right next to the bin. Before they could sit down and enjoy their “lunch”, a tall man came up behind them quickly. “Shay Dumptruck! Wide load! HOOONK!” Is all the warning they get before Shay’s lunch tray is flying through the air, her food scattering over the floor and in her hair. Furious, Lance swivelled around to see whoever was pathetic enough to do such a thing. He should of guessed really. Lance had his diary page memorised, he was rather proud of it. “Sendak Kelly, quarterback. He is the smartest guy on the football team...it's kind of like being the tallest dwarf!”

Lance wants to punch him, he really does...but that won't help Shay right now. Instead he turns around again, putting a hand on Shay's back before slowly picking a few bits of food out of her hair. “Honk honk!” Sendak yells before high fiving Zarkon, who seemed to be lurking behind and laughing at the show. Lance was almost certain you could see the vein on his forehead at this point. “Pick that up right now!” He yells, moving from his place behind Shay to come face to face with Sendak. Well, more face to pecks than anything else. The two boys seem to share a look before turning back to Lance. “I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Sendak hissed before moving closer to Lance, trying to loom over him. Somehow without Lance noticing, Zarkon had gone behind him. “My buddy Sendak just asked you a question.” He whispered into Lance’s ear before pushing him forward, chest meeting Sendak waiting fist half way. The wind was momentarily taken out of him but Lance stood straight back up. He was done, done with laying around and letting it pass.

He hobbles over to stand defensively in front of Shay. Standing up as straight as possible through the pain, Lance looks directly into Sendak’s eyes. “Yeah, I am! I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You're a high school has been waiting to happen. A future gas station attendant, and even then you'll be lucky if they accept you!” Zarkon and Sendak share a glance before they lean in, arching their backs to tower over Lance. Cowering back, Lance makes sure he's in front of Shay. He wouldn't let them hurt her. Zarkon raises his first and Lance braces for the shap pain. When that pain doesn't come, he poems one eye and is met with an evil, sickening even, grin. “You've got a zit right there!” They both yell out before pushing Lance back so he staggers, falling backwards onto the bench of his table. “Oh my goodness are you ok?” Shay asks, fussing over Lance's sprawled out figure. He grunts before pulling himself up. Their little show had attracted a great deal of attention but people were still trying to hide their obvious interest. “Someone stood up to them?” “Wow! I could never do that.” “Why do we hate him?” “Why does he act like such a freak?” “Why did they hit him?” “I bet he cries himself to sleep.” He knew they were directed at him, knew he probably wouldn't stop getting whispers as he walked by. He was used to it by now, which is kinda sad… Batting away Shay’s fussing hands, he hauls himself up and drags Shay into the nearest corridor, away from all the gossip and voices. Lance may be able to deal with it but Shay was still too fragile for all this. “I'm gonna hit the restroom before next period, don't wait up! If worst comes to worst I'll forge some sort of note.” He said, patting Shay’s shoulder lightly. She looked up at him with big eyes and nodded before slowly turning to head to the next class. Sighing, Lance scurried off. He was ruffling a hand through his hair on his way into the boy's toilets when he heard it. “Ugh, grow up Pidge! Bulimia’s so ‘87.” The hand that had rested in his hair now seemed to absently pull itself down his face. Lance could just not be bothered with this right now.

He walked in and looked behind him quickly. ‘Huh, could've sworn I heard angelic music…’ Pushing it aside he looked on to the voice he'd just heard and what do you know! Standing there in all her bitchyness was Nyma Chandler. Powdering her plastic face while gazing into the mirror. She was decked out in her usual outfit. A red blazer buckled over a white shirt. She had pulled her pleated and checked skirt up further than necessary to show of her thighs. Speaking of thighs, she also wore thigh high socks with red and white diamonds on them. “Nyma’s right, maybe you should see a doctor Pidge…” The soft voice came from a rather large boy standing awkwardly at Nyma’s side. Hunk McNarma, wearing the same blazer as Nyma but in a vibrant yellow. He wore designer jeans that complimented his shoes that had been specially imported from England. As Lance finally brings himself to turn the corner, he's met with a croaky voice from the end stall. “Yeah Hunk, maybe I should.” He should've known that wolves always hunt in packs. Pidge Duke was currently hacking up her guts into one of the private stalls to the left of Nyma. Lance couldn't see her but he assumed she was wearing nearly all the same as Nyma, expect green. Seriously, they looked like a perfect Eurovision entry. Sighing, Lance hobbled over to the cubicle furthest away from the group and was on the verge of relieving himself when the door shot open again, revealing Ms. Flemming, or Allura as she tried to get the students to call her. Lance hastily shoved himself back into his boxers before the teacher caught a glimpse. Did nobody respect signs these days?! “Ah, Hunk, Nyma and-” Pidge vomited in the background… “Pidge...Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting but you're all late for class. And Nyma, what are you doing in the boys toilets?”

Nyma looked away from the mirror to glare at Ms.Flemming for a second. “Oh please. The boys toilets are much nicer, and I wasn't about to bring a boy into the girls toilets. No, that'd be weird.” Everyone in that room new exactly what she was actually in the boys toilets for and it momentarily grossed Lance out. “And anyway, Pidge wasn't feeling well so we're helping her.” Ms.Flemming seemed to glare at her spread out makeup assortment for a few seconds before turning back with a sigh. “Not without a hall pass you aren't, weeks detention to all of you.” She spun round to stare at Lance who was vaguely glad he'd tucked himself back in. He scuttled over to the taps. Hastily he pulled some blue paper out of his trouser pockets before scribbling onto it as quickly as he could. Lance was fully prepared for this turn of events, minus the plastic fuck cases currently staring at his back. But...maybe, just maybe, this was Lances chance? His opportunity to force himself through the thick layer of fake separating him from the Chandlers? Even in his own mindscape Lance hates referring to them as the Chandlers. Pidge and Hunk had been stripped of their names and made into Nymas puppets. Thinking about it though, was that really that bad? Sure all sense of decency is gone but it comes with status, respect and exclusive privileges. It was a split second decision. Wiping his hands down, Lance pulled out 3 more pieces of paper and quickly scribbled on them. “Sorry, but no hall pass no-” “Actually Ms Flemming!” Lance began with thrusting the paper towards her. “All four of us are out on a hall pass. Yearbook committee.” Was all he said, giving a cheesy lopsided smile in her general direction. She skimmed over the letters a few times, only stopping to skeptically look at Lance from under her glasses. “Well...I see you're all listed. Hurry up and get where you're going.” She spoke quickly before shoving the paper absently to Nyma. After gathering in the doorway to make sure the teacher had left, Nyma finally looked down at the now crumpled paper in her hands. “This is an excellent forgery-” she threw out her arm and pushed the paper into Hunks chest. “Who are you?” Palms sweating, he looked straight into her eyes. “My name’s Lance Sawyer, I crave a boon.”

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Part 1 done!!

Hope its ok! ^^

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