#Yeah yeah yeah he's been an occasional bad dad and harsh teacher

[violent138]

Lots of the newer heroes struggle with gadgets, hacking, or need some guidance on the finer points of superheroing and when they find their way to Batman they're super nervous. What they don't expect is that a massive nerd with tons of experience teaching kids, who's heard every stupid question under the sun, and is more than willing to help them with what they need to know.

#Gotham churns out heroes on the regular #and just in general I assume people find their way to him (plenty of crossovers) and end up asking a few burning questions #the number of teachers this guy's had and the amount of times he's trained people over and over #he loves it enough to help most people #batman #bruce wayne #batman headcanons #Yeah yeah yeah he's been an occasional bad dad and harsh teacher #Sorry I'm choosing to focus a little more on the softer parts of canon #dc comics

[that-was-anticlimactic]

reki with tourette’s headcanons

[ID: it’s reki from sk8 the infinity wearing a yellow sweatshirt with his hands on his hips. he’s wearing a red bracelet on his right wrist and he’s smiling. behind him is a touette’s syndrome awareness flag. end ID.]

so. @zukkaclawthorne got me hooked on reki with ts and now imma post headcanons i wrote oops

okay so first—that little skateboard he plays with??? stim toy, actually.

he likes the sound the wheels make—that whirrrrrr sound. it makes his arms flappy :)

he also finds the rolling motion soothing and relaxing and it always calms him down—it takes his mind to a happy place

he rocks back and forth and shakes his legs a lot. that also contributed to why he was terrible at skateboarding the first few times he tried—because his body would be like “time to rock back and forth!” and it would mess him up

neck twitches for days :)

no but for real—neck twitching is one of his worst tics because sometimes—if he’s in a bad mood or if he’s sad or anxious—it gets harsh and violent and really strains his neck.

so, langa gives him neck / upper back neck massages to help with the pain

he went through this phase for a couple of months where whenever his neck would twitch, he would snap his fingers two times.

he has a lot of hand tics which can be stressful when he makes skateboards because sometimes he’ll be in the groove and then suddenly he’ll mess something up

speaking of messing things up, he has a tendency to dig the bottom of his palm into his forehead whenever he feels like he does something stupid—he doesn’t even realize it until someone points it out.

he feels like even more of a failure of a skater because of his tics because they can hold him back and make the course more dangerous.

if his blinking tic resurfaces, sometimes the blinking gets so intense that he literally cannot see for anywhere between five seconds and a minute depending on how bad it is. that is how he got some of his worst scars.

or sometimes he’ll make a really aggressive hand motion and it throws him off balance on the skateboard due to the intensity

anyways back to hand tics: he points a lot and does symbols like the “rock on” sign or certain numbers (for some reason, the most common number for reki to throw up is four—though sometimes he throws up whatever number he hears) he also grunts a lot as a tic so he sounds angry even when he is’t.

sometimes, his hand tics really hurt and his hands become shaky and his fingers start to feel the way his heart feels when he’s anxious. langa helps in different ways—he holds reki’s hand, he gives him something to fidget with to try to distract him (sometimes it’s his own fingers—he’ll just set them in reki’s palm and be like “let me carry some of the pain”—no, reki didn’t totally cry when he said that what)

sometimes, reki sticks pencils in his ears. his teachers have been trying to stop it since he was young, but he always did it anyways—he couldn’t help it.

his hair is also long enough for him to chew on. yes, he chews on the tips of his hair because i say so. sometimes, to stop him from doing that (and from swallowing his own hair), langa will try to make him laugh so it falls out of his mouth and then he’ll scoot close and tuck the hair behind reki’s ears… once they start dating, he kisses him too. but also that’s one reason why he wears the headband—to try to keep his hair out of his face so he doesn’t chew on it.

reki’s favorite form of stimming (other than his skateboard toy, that is) is stress balls. he’s got a couple of stress balls in his room or backpack—even one with string attached so he can carry it around his wrist. he just really likes the texture of them.

after his second race against adam, cherry and joe were so proud of him and also impressed and worried dads that they bought reki a big stress ball, like, the size of a stuffed animal. it was a blue cat. he uses it all the time.

speaking of fricking adam, we all know he would so use reki’s tics against him during a race. like, when he grabbed his wrist and “danced” with him, he would mock reki’s tics or say creepy things about how his verbal tics are music and his motor tics are him dancing along and it makes him so uncomfortable and like even more shaken

oh and adam purposely does things to trigger his tics, like when i mentioned that number tic??? yeah, adam will purposefully say numbers to make reki do the hand gestures

one time, reki wanted to tell langa that he loved him but got nervous so he signed it in sign language instead. but, since reki’s tics are occasionally hand gestures, langa thought that it was just a tic and mentally was like “i wish that was for me…” and reki is like “i wish he knew it was real…” and joe, cherry, shadow, and miya are all facepalming and groaning at their obliviousness

reki prefers taking hand written notes to electronic notes because he draws / doodles to stim and he can’t really doodle well on a laptop. so, he’ll doodle in class all of the time

sometimes, his pictures / notes turn out pretty bad / illegible depending on how bad his tics are, but that doesn’t phase reki. it used to when he was younger, but it doesn’t bother him at all anymore. in fact, he thinks it adds personality

during class, he’ll draw pictures for langa and slid them on his desk. they’re usually really random things like the teacher or the back of someone’s head or squiggly lines or whatever he sees outside. more often than not, it’s abstract art. langa loves these drawings and he keeps them all on his desk in his room.

reki also started drawing pictures for the rest of the sk8 crew and gives it to them during races. when he gave everyone their first doodle, he was like “i’m not the best artist ever and sometimes my tics mess up the doodle, but i thought of you while i drew it so i want you to have it”

(shadow didn’t shed a couple of unwilling dad tears when he got home that night what)

anyways, they all keep them. every single one. miya puts them in their school binder so they don’t feel as alone / isolated at school.

although shadow and miya give reki a lot of crap / teasing about not being as good as everyone else, the second they hear anyone comment about “the weird red head that makes noises” and comments on his ts in a negative way, oh, they will stop you.

sometimes, reki whispers words he hears under his breath as a tic (echolalia, baby~) and when he overhears people saying stuff about “that redhead that always follows snow around” or about him not being good enough or how he’s an idiot to face adam, he ends up muttering that too. and it’s not a one and done kind of thing—like. he does it for days. it makes him so upset (and i already hc him, with depression so it just makes it worse)

having tics while having injuries is not a good combination—especially if it’s with a broken arm. the crew made sure to keep an eye of reki’s comfort / pain level after adam broke his arm and literally tried to kill him in their final race. joe let reki squeeze his hand whenever he felt the urge to tic and cherry would ask him how much pain he was in after he ticced and depending on how bad it would be, would make joe or shadow fetch a heating pad or an icepack for reki.

joe also taught reki about the magical thing called physical therapy tape and helped him put it on his shoulders, neck, and back one time. it was his idea to use the tape on reki’s fingers when he was injured to make him feel better (because it literally makes my fingers feel better)

also langa kisses each of reki’s fingers and knuckles, slowly and tenderly, soft so he doesn’t hurt him or trigger a tic. a way of showing that he loves him not despite his tics, but even with his tics and that he loves him and his tics.

cherry isn’t always the best at showing he cares, so he’ll wear a ts ribbon sometimes in a way to show support (and it makes reki beam)

shadow once gave reki a flower shaped stress ball because there were “extra at work” (not true—he went looking for one)

miya didn’t really know much about ts at first and asked why reki made those noises and made weird movements all the time and langa explained so then that night when miya got home, they did research on ts so they could understand it better. later, they told reki that whenever they called him a slime, they meant it purely about skateboarding and it had nothing to do with his tics—even that his tics didn’t make him less of a skater

all his life, reki had been the different one: the one no one wanted on the team because sometimes his tics messed him up, the one who was asked to leave classes during tests because his tics were too distracting and made him take the test in the hall, when sometimes he’d get too overwhelmed by how close people were in the halls or at races and would have panic attacks, how he rocked in his chair and adjusted his position seventeen times an hour and sat on his feet while the other kids didn’t, how he shook his legs more aggressively than others, how he couldn’t skate as well as everyone else because of his tics and because he wasn’t good enough

which is probably part of the depression that weighs on his shoulders

the first time reki had a panic attack during a race due to closeness and overstimulating noises (and this is the first one after the sk8 crew happened) langa was racing and wasn’t there to help, so shadow kind of panicked and like picked him up under the armpits and carried him away from the crowd since reki could barely process anything other than panic and the sound and feeling of static and they sat in shadow’s car for the rest of the race and once he felt better, he gave shadow a huge hug and shadow returned it.

one time it happened and cherry was nearby and he saw the signs before it got bad (remembered from the previous time / his own experiences) and helped talk reki down before it got bad (he has a soothing voice)

usually, though, when / if it happens (because reki usually feels safe there), langa is the one who helps

but it got so much worse after skating against adam the first time because he no longer felt safe and suddenly everyone cheering adam’s name even after witnessing what he did to reki was too much but langa was racing adam so langa wasn’t there and this time it was joe who kneeled in front of him and started talking just loud enough for reki to hear and he was like “you’re safe—we won’t let anyone hurt you. we won’t let him hurt langa. you’re safe. i’m here and so is cherry and shadow and miya and langa will be waiting for you at the end of the race…”

it happens again at the next race he goes to—and this time it’s miya who notices and they tug on langa’s sleeve and is like “i think you need to take reki somewhere else” and langa does :)

okay i’ll end on a positive ts note or two—langa asks reki to add the ts ribbon to the design on his skateboard

shadow finds chewelry at the store one day when he’s shopping and buys it for reki (and gets a matching one for langa!)

once reki came back after his mental health break, the first thing joe said to him was, and this is nonnegotiable “reki! i missed you and your tics!”

miya once overheard reki muttering to himself about his annoying tics were, so they intervened and was like “your tics aren’t annoying. they’re you and anyone who think s they’re annoying is an idiot”

and for the first time in his life, reki doesn’t feel alone and isolated and so different from everyone (at least, he’s working on that last one) and he’s finally found a group of people who want him on their team and a boyfriend who always supports him and makes him feel less isolated, tics and all <3

i uhh I have a lot of feelings,,,

#reki with tourette’s #wake up babes a new ts hc just dropped wibejebe #i watched the show in two nights and have So many feelings #specially about reki and renga #i love them all tho (not you adam) #and grace told me that reki had ts even before i started the show and i knew it to be true😌 #he DOES have ts :) #ahhhhh i feel so strongly about this #now I just need to figure out which s.ds character has ts… #anyways #que #because it is 2:09am and i have class at eleven sooooo #if anyone read this far ily #corey rambles:) #corey tics:) #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #reki kyan #reki headcanons #sk8 infinity headcanons

[ag3ntl3vi]

Kenma Kozume X Male Reader | “Fighter” | ☁️

I wrote this out of boredom at like, 3AM. 

Word count: 2,345

Trigger Warning: Fighting, cursing, blood. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Such bullshit, you thought as a group of violent alphas glared up at you. You clicked your tongue, swinging your prized metal bat off your shoulders, slapping it loudly against your palm. 

"You're such a nuisance," you grumbled.

"Us?! You're the one spreading their pheromones like a whore!" The self-proclaimed 'leader' spat, venom lacing his words. You rolled your eyes, moving your body into a fighting stance. 

"Yeah? But aren't you the shitbag who touched that omega chick without consent?" You lowly growled. The alpha faltered, giving you your answer, before snapping back to reality. "She asked for it! Practically begged! Her scent-!"

"Her scent, what?" You took menacing steps forward, pushing your bat under his chin aggressively. You were relatively tall which made you intimidating along with your mean features but you weren't feared enough to be spared violence due to your second gender, and Omega. You could easily be mistaken for a powerful Alpha from afar. 

You were born with slanted, glaring eyes and a harsh resting bitch face, so you could understand why people tended to avoid you at first glance. 

Your eyes glared with pent up rage as you lifted your bat above your head and brought it down on the shitty alphas shoulder. 

A sickening crack echoed through the empty alleyway, the alpha gasping in pain before another blow from your knee slammed into his chin. He stumbled back onto his ass, gripping his shoulder pathetically.

"Your scent is disgusting," You grimaced, waving your hand in front of your nose.

"Get them, idiots!" He whined loudly. His goons charged you a second later. Swiftly, you dunked under one's metal pipe, kicking his gut and pushing him off his feet. You dropped to the concrete and quickly knocked another's ankles from under him, swinging your bat over your head (hitting someone's chin in the process), and bounced it hard against his soft belly. 

You rolled over but was forced back by a shoe to your cheek. You hissed, looking up before having your silky locks fisted and your face smashed into a hard kneecap. You gasped as blood oozed from your nose.

You forcefully shook off the pain and grabbed your offender's wrist and with a burst of short-lived power, swung him over your head and knocking him out cold against the hard floor. 

You laid there for a hot second, staring up at the baby blue sky. There weren't any clouds, you noticed sadly. 

You were tempted to fall asleep but you were sure when the sad excuses of alphas woke it wouldn't be pleasant for you. 

You knew the scene looked horrible to an unknowing eye, but you couldn't bring yourself to give a single shit. 

You sighed and picked your slightly bloodied weapon up to lazily toss it over your shoulders, walking to the entrance of the alleyway. 

Though, surprisingly, you had bumped into someone. It wasn't your fault you couldn't see him, you had the worst vision. You furrowed your brows internally, you needed to see an eye doctor soon.

The guy you bumped into bristled like a startled cat, taking a short step back as he clutched his Nintendo DS close to his chest. You glared down at him. 

"Ah... Sorry," He muttered, lowering his eyes to the ground. He glanced down the alley at the sound of a pained moan. 

You scowled at the noise, releasing a loud sigh through your nose. 

"No, sorry. I wasn't paying attention." You quietly said. Kenma nodded slowly, looking back to his gaming device, not caring too much about the very obvious fight that had just ensued. 

"You play Animal Crossing?" You asked, recognizing the soft music instantly. 

Though shocked a guy like you knew the game, Kenma nodded again.

"Cool, me too. Give me your name," You said smoothly, though internally you were ecstatic someone else played the game.

That's how you met the pudding haired boy. After exchanging your contact information, you went your separate ways.

You texted Kenma first.

To: Kenma

From: (Y/n)

I want to play COD. Do you have it?"

To: (Y/n)

From: Kenma 

yeah. whats your gamertag?

To: Kenma

From: (Y/n)

DyNaMiTe.

Don't ask.

To: (Y/n)

From: Kenma

I won't. 

Let's play.

To: Kenma

From: (Y/n)

Oh, btw, do you have a mic?

After adding your new friend on the Playstation, you connected to a call and played several rounds of COD before you got bored of slaughtering random enemies. 

"Let's play Mario Kart," You stated. 

"Okay," Came Kenma's short answer. 

You ended up playing until sunrise. You had to admit, the bloodshot eyes and sore muscles were worth it. Kenma was a surprisingly good player and you could say with confidence he was now a gamer buddy. 

More time passed since you met the setter, but he knew deep down it was only a matter of time before he was forced to introduce you to his childhood friend. As of now, he was thankful he told him very little about his newfound friend.

The more you hung out with Kenma at school the more open he became, giving you longer answers rather than his short, to the point ones. Sometimes he'd call you randomly at night requesting you play Animal Crossing with him and everyone else had gone to sleep. 

It was a lie. Kenma didn't have any other friends, but he wouldn't admit that anytime soon. He had to go when a loud voice called for him to get his ass to bed, though you weren't sure who it was. Maybe his dad? But he sounded young. You shrugged it off, it wasn't your business anyway. 

A week later you and Kenma sat on the roof of the school. You took a large bite out of a thick sandwich layered with meat and cheese. Kenma favored a neat bento his mother made him the night before. Occasionally, you'd glance at his teriyaki and whine. It took a while but the blonde finally gave in, holding a ball of meat in between his chopsticks towards you. 

"You wanted one, right?" He muttered, avoiding eye contact. You grinned and sloppily took it from him, thanking him as you chewed. Kenma grimaced and wiped at the corner of your mouth with a napkin. 

"Don't talk with your mouth full, idiot.." He whispered.

Aw, look! He's being nice~ Your inner Omega swooned. You pushed down a blush, though Kenma could've sworn he saw a thin layer of pink dusting your cheeks, though he couldn't tell due to a large bruise. He brushed it off. 

More time passe. As the days increased so did the bruises, cuts, and even a few stitches. Kenma had noticed you being pulled out of class through the window of his classroom but never really questioned it, assuming you were skipping with your friends.

He couldn't have been more wrong. 

"You're fucking joking," You muttered, staring at that shitty alpha from a few months ago standing in front of your classroom. He had innocently claimed his teacher needed to talk to you, something about your grandma's passing or some bullshit excuse. Your grandmother had been dead for three years. 

"Come along now, (Y/n)," He whimpered sadly, patting your shoulder. "You wouldn't want anything bad happening to your little blonde pal, would you?" He whispered dangerously in your ear. You allowed him to lead you out of the classroom.

You glared, growling. "You're bluffing," You accused, crossing your arms across your chest. 

He raised a brow. "Am I? I have a buddy in his classroom, all I have to do is get him to bring your pal out. He doesn't look like a very strong alpha..." he trailed off, a sick grin pulling at his cheeks.

You cursed under your breath, an image of Kenma's small, shy smile crossing your mind. No way in hell would you let this dickbag of an alpha touch what's yours.

Mine.  Your Omega growled loudly. 

 Ours, You thought back. 

You would protect him all you could.

After school Kenma went to volleyball practice, per normal, but you weren't waiting for him when he left his classroom. Normally you would pick him up and walk him to the gym then wait on the side of the gates where Kenma would make up an excuse to walk home with you instead of Kuroo. 

He furrowed his brows, confused. He checked the bathrooms on his way to the gym, not seeing you. Did you get sick? He made a quick stop at the nurse's office, asking if you had gone home. She shook her head, claiming nobody had gone home today. 

As nervous as he was, he made his way to the volleyball court, changing into his proper shoes. As little as he normally played, he couldn't get his mind off you. He had a sinking feeling something was very wrong. 

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he had started to develop feelings for the taller Omega. He had denied it for a while, but he had soon come to terms with it. What was the point in acting like they weren't there? It would be there anyway. He couldn't act like his heart didn't start to pound in his chest every time he saw you or how worried and protective he felt when he saw a new bruise or cut on your body.  He felt butterflies when you laughed at your victories in first-person shooter games or that childish grin you got when he caved and let you have his teriyaki at lunch. 

"Kenma!" Kuroo called, jogging over. Kenma hummed, looking up at the raven. 

"Are you alright? You're more out of it than usual," Kuroo asked, his brows knitting together worriedly. The blonde bit his lip, looking down, to the left and right before meeting his gaze again. 

"You.. Know that guy I told you about?" He muttered.

Kuroo raised his eyebrows. "The one you're madly in love-" Kenma yelped, slapping his hands over his mouth quickly, his face exploding into a red blush. "Sh!" he hissed. 

Kuroo smirked behind his friend's hands, giving them a wet lick. Kenma gagged, jerking his hands away and wiping them violently on the rooster haired male's black shirt. "Gross..." He whined.

Kruoo laughed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know the guy. What bout him?" 

The setter sighed, voicing his concern. "He wasn't here today to get me," He started. "He didn't text me he was leaving and it looks like he's getting.. hurt more often." His voice dipped into a whisper as worries and anxieties flooded his brain. Something wasn't right, he just knew it.

Kuroo hummed, tapping his finger on his chin. "Have you asked him?" Kenma shook his head. "You should," Kuroo gave him a long stare. "I don't see why you haven't." 

Kenma opened his mouth, then closed it. "I don't know." He said. "Somethings wrong," He looked down, shuffling his feet. "Really wrong. With him."

An overbearing scent caught his attention. Faintly he smelt the omega's natural scent, pine, and fresh campfire. 

"Find him," Kuroo smiled. "I think there's something between you two, more than a bro-bro relationship." He teased. Kenma blushed, wasting no time in changing into his outdoor shoes and Volleyball jacket before he bolted out the door. He zipped the red jacket up to his chin and smelt the cold air, searching for his crush's scent.

He ran to the gates of the school and made his way to the empty park. It was concealed by the thick forest and thicket, but the unmistakable smell of him. 

He pushed through the thorns and sniffed the air. His smell was strong, he was close. A heavy feeling of anxiety and excitement settled in the pit of his stomach as he broke through the bushes. 

Kenma's golden eyes caught sight of a figure hunched over in a swing and he jogged over.

"(Y/n)?" He asked. You flinched at his voice, as comforting as it may have been to you, you lowered your head, your hair blocking your face.

Kenma's nose picked up on a dreadful, and disgusting scent. Blood.

"(Y/n), what happened?" He lowered himself to the dirt, looking under your bangs. "Please, look at me.." he muttered, reaching up to brush the hair away from your face.

You sniffed and looked up, tears brimming your narrowed eyes as blood dribbled down your face from a large cut across your temple, your nose, and busted lip. Your knuckles were a bright red, dotting with blood. A tear slid down your cheek and you hurriedly wiped it away, jerking your head aside.

"It's nothing," You growled. Kenma narrowed his eyes, standing up.

"It's not." He said. 

"It's nothing, Kenma." You whispered, smearing the blood across your face when you rubbed your sore nose. "Just a stupid fight." 

"(Y/n), talk to me," Kenma muttered, glaring down at your hunched form. "I can't help if you don't fucking talk to me, you know." You winced at the harsh curse. The shorter one didn't cuss often, only at games when he lost a hard round or when he was pissed. 

"I said it's nothing, drop it." You hissed, your (e/c) orbs piercing into his honey eyes. He held your stare sternly. 

You caved. 

"Someone threatened to hurt you if they didn't get revenge. They wanted a punching bag for a while. In exchange, they'd leave you alone. Satisfied?" You huffed childishly.

Kenma gaped at you. 

Had you really gone and got yourself beat to a pathetic lump all so he was spared a little pushing around? 

When he didn't answer you took a breath. 

"I'd rather be a human punching bag than allow the guy I love to get hurt," You grumbled, holding your breath. Yeah, fuck you, you knew what you were saying. You were low enough and if the setter didn't return your feelings the internally bruising would heal with your external cuts. 

"The guy you love?" Kenma whispered. "You... Love me?" he stared at you, slightly wide-eyed. You nodded stiffly. 

"Me too."

----------------------------------

#kenma x you #kenma x reader #hq kenma #male reader #x male reader #haikyuu!! #nekoma #romance #bxb #kenma kozume #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume x male reader

[tourettic-brookstone]

My Ninjago Lgbt Headcannons

They're practically all mini fanfics, but who cares? Lol

Lloyd: From a young age, Lloyd knew he wasn't a girl. Dresses never felt right, and pink didn't flatter him. Everytime he heard his name, he would slightly frown at it. He despised being grouped with the girls and made an effort to avoid them all in all. He would rather roll around in the mud then be forced into another game of House.

Lloyd's mother was not happy with this. She wanted a baby girl she could raise into a fine woman. When Lloyd told her how he felt one day, she screamed at him and told him he would always be a girl.

In her rage, she decided to drop him off at Darkly's in order to try and sway him from his "boyish tendencies."

The school almost didn't except him, but they let him join out of what little respect they had.

Misako's plan to turn Lloyd back into her little girl backfired heavily when the boys at Darkly's actually helped Lloyd transition and pass as a boy as much as possible. Though they claim they only wanted to help so they could have another evil mastermind around, they all genuinely felt for Lloyd as they all were abandoned by their parents.

When Lloyd joined the ninja, Wu was surprised to see his niece had turned into his nephew. Accepting Lloyd for who he was, he never made the ninja aware of the Green Ninja's transition.

His father was also kind and accepting of Lloyd's identity. When Garmadon saw his child for the first time in forever, he was shocked to see it was no longer his daughter, but his son.

Garmadon immediately understood, and made an effort to validate his son all times possible. Lloyd was forever grateful for this.

Later in years, though, Lloyd was comfortable enough with everyone to tell them the truth. They were all supportive, and although some didn't understand, cough cough Jay cough cough, they did their best to treat him the same as always and even help further his transition.

Kai: During his time on Chen's island, Kai had the biggest crush on Skylor. He knew from the very start it wouldn't fully work out, but he couldn't help the yearning he felt for her.

He was now facing that same issue in the coffee shop. He held his hot cup close to him and tried not to make it obvious he was staring. He took another sip and looked up with his head down, gazing at the most gorgeous man he ever laid eyes on. Even his own ego couldn't compare.

Kai quickly averted his gaze when the man glanced at him. Kai felt his face heat up. He swished his coffee before downing another gulp and set the cup down.

With wobbly legs, he stood and made his way over to where the man sat at his own table.

"Hey-hey there," Kai stuttered. The man looked up from his coffee to Kai, who wore an awkward grin.

"Hi. Can I help you?" The man asked.

"Yeah, yeah, actually. I've lost my number and was wondering if I could have yours." Kai internally grimaced and nearly groaned on the outside. Oh that was so corny, he thought. What if he doesn't even like men?

The man smiled and took an unused napkin and pen from his pocket and wrote something down. Kai almost quite literally squealed when he was handed the paper.

"You're Kai, right? The Master of Fire?" The man asked.

"The one and only," Kai said. He slicked back his hair and gave the man another awkward toothy grin.

"Well, I'm Jason. It was nice to meet you." Jason stood from his seat and gave Kai a smile as he paid for his coffee. He left the star struck ninja to himself and left the coffee shop. Before completely exiting, Jason turned back and gave Kai a wink and walked away.

With a face as red as his gi, Kai looked down at the napkin. On it was Jason's phone number and a bucket drawn winky face next to it.

"Yes!" Kai exclaimed. Everyone in the shop turned to look at him surprised. As if Kai couldn't get anymore embarrassed, he ducked his head down and nearly bolted out the door.

Cole: Ever since he was a child, his father made him dance and perform dangerous acts that many professionals couldn't succeed. Cole was often trained alone in his father's home, but occasionally they would take lessons at the village's small dance school.

There, children of all ages and genders strived to perfect their skills of dance and work harder to be the best. His father would often help instruct the students along side the more permanent teachers.

The students were grouped by gender and were taught by certain teachers at certain times. When his father was the current teacher, he made an effort to throw upon his son the more rigourous and challenging dances. This caused Cole to become more distant from the other students. They all felt he was trying to make them inferior to him and avoided him. He was always too tired in his free time to chat and hang out, anyways. And even if he was properly rested, his father would make him continue training.

One day his father grew ill and had to stay in bed for a few days. He, of course, wanted Cole to continue training and sent him off to the dance school.

The other teachers were a lot nicer and less harsh than his father. Therefore, after the day's lessons, Cole felt a lot more energetic then usual.

Taking a long swing of water from his bottle, Cole heard someone shuffle up to him.

Gasping for air after his drink, Cole looked up at a boy roughly his age. He was twiddling his thumbs and looking at his feet in embarrasment.

"H-hi. I'm Zach," the boy said. His eyes darted from his feet to Cole's water bottle, to Cole's face, and back to his feet.

"Uh, I'm Cole."

The boy hummed and shuffled on his feet a little. Cole felt the air turn stiff and awkward. He pursed his lips and waited for Zach to say something else.

"Would you like to sit down?" Cole asked. He was sitting on the floor next to the wall, and it was honestly not very comfortable, but he didn't know what to say.

The boy said nothing as he slowly made his way to the floor and sat uncomfortably close to Cole.

"So are you new here? I don't think I've ever seen you before," Cole said. Zach nodded his head.

"I moved here about two days ago. My mother wanted me to get out of the city and meet some new friends. Everyone here seems a little mean, though. But not you. You seem nice," he mumbled the last part.

"Oh, well, thank you? I guess," Cole chuckled. He felt a little weird as he stared at the boys face. "So what made you decide to start dancing lessons?"

"Well, my dad wanted me to find a hobby, and nothing I've thought about interested me. Except for dancing. He doesn't like that, though. He says it's too girly." Zach made a face at the mention of his father. It for some reason made Cole just as mad. "What about you?"

"Dude, nothing about dance is girly. It's so hard and tiring. You gotta choreograph every move to the music perfectly and not screw up. You also gotta be on time with everything and look good while doing it. You can't overstep anything. You can't get in anyone else's way. You can't do a lot of other things, and it's so hard sometimes. If you can pull off a dance routine perfectly, you're practically a god." Cole finished his rant with a huff of air and looked at Zach exasperated.

"Well, I guess you're a god then," Zach muttered.

"What'd you say?" Cole asked. Zach's face blushed a light pink and Cole felt his heart flutter. He thought he was a god?

"Zach, honey, it's time to go." A woman's voice called from the entrance door and Zach stood to leave.

"It was nice meeting you, Cole," he said. Zach smiled at him and waved before heading off towards his mother.

"Y-yeah. You-you, too," he stuttered. He watched as Zach left and picked up his water bottle again. He felt his heart beating fast, as if he was performing another horrid dance routine for his father.

Could he possibly have caught feelings for a boy he just met? Cole didn't know, and Cole didn't care.

Maybe dance class wouldn't be as bad anymore.

Skylor: You would think running a noodle shop that belonged to your evil father who secretly stole the powers of innocent people to turn him and his followers into powerful snakes and take over Ninjago would be easy, right? Well kind of.

Skylor had lived around noodles for the majority of her life and knew the ropes around running a shop. The only downside was the customers.

"I ordered a large ramen bowl with no noodles!" A woman around her fifties was practically harrasing Skylor at the register.

"Ma'am you're aware ramen is noodles, correct?" Skylor deadpanned at the old woman.

"Why can't you just give me what I want?"

"One large bowl of flavored water coming right up," Skylors sighed and rang the order up.

The woman scowled and stormed off mumbling about calling corporate. Jokes on her, Skylor was corporate.

"Rough day?" Skylor heard someone say. She turned and saw a woman her age slurping up some noodles.

"That's a little bit of an understatement there," Skylor chuckled.

"Oh, I get it. I used to work in customer service, too. It's like some people never went to school."

"Tell me about it," Skylor said, rolling her eyes. She rested her head on her hand and leaned over the counter towards the woman.

The woman took another bite of noodles before clearing her throat.

"I'm Anne," she said.

"Skylor."

"How long have you been working here?"

"I actually run this place. And that's been about a few years? I took over after my father passed away."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Anne frowned.

"Well, you know. He wasn't the greatest of people," Skylor chuckled.

"Yeah, no way he could compare to you," Anne said.

"Excuse me?" Skylor smirked with a raised eyebrow.

"You heard me," Anne mirrored Skylor's smirk and took another bite.

They shared a couple laughs before the front doors were slammed open.

"Skylor! I'm gonna need a buttload of your freshest Puffy Potstickers!" Darreth huffed. His face was red and sweaty as if he just ran a marathon.

"Looks like duty calls," Anne joked. Skylor hummed and drew herself up from the counter to make Darreth's order.

Skylor heard scribbles coming from Anne's general direction. She turned back towards her and was met with a slip of paper being handed to her.

"In case you wanna complain about some customers," Anne smiled. Skylor returned the smile and took the slip of paper to put it in her pocket.

And there was an upside to the job.

#ninjago fanfiction #ninjago fic #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #cole brookstone #skylor chen #lgbtq #headcanon #i feel like coles wasnt as good as the rest lol #for clarification #kai in this is pan cole is gay #and skylor is a full on lesbian #jeez skylors was really short and bland #oh well #i almost lost motivation to write this due to tiktok and chicken nuggets

[therealactualasteratwood]

Can you share all of your Griffin hcs

((OKAY AFTER LIKE A YEAR OF THIS SITTING HERE!

Griffin Head Canons.

Wore glasses and briefly an eye patch when he was younger.  

Prefers dark glasses now, because the photophobia is more of an issue then his nearsightedness and low visual acuity.  

He is really sensitive to bright lights.  That’s not really a head canon, he straight up says it in the book.  

When he was visible Griffin actively tried to avoid drawing attention to himself for how he looked, so the man has the world's blandest possible wardrobe.  

Griffin has a lot of energy.  And has a hard time sitting still.  He thinks best when he’s pacing, habitually taps his foot, bounces his leg, drums his fingers on things or taps a pencil when he’s working, and sometimes just does sit ups or push ups in his room in an effort to work off some steam.  

Likes to shove his hands in his pockets. Doesn’t entirely know what to do with his hands when he doesn’t have pockets.

Despite being a very asocial person Griffin is loud.  He thinks better when he can verbalize things and barely notices how often he talks to himself.  He hums sometimes when he thinks no one is listening.

On that note, Griffin is painfully susceptible to ear worms and finds it frustrating to no end.  

He’s faking a posher accent then he actually has.

I don’t think he’s actually cockney.  I’m still trying to figure out what a middle class Victorian accent is though.  

Also yeah, middle class.  Griffin was absolutely dirt poor by the time he was studying physics.  But he wasn’t actually poor growing up, just, lower middle class.  His dad was a banker, they had one servant who was mostly responsible for raising him.  

He’s always been really into science and very precocious about it.  May have done some ill advised experiments that really just consisted of mixing random kitchen chemicals together to see what happened.  

It is legitimately a miracle that he didn’t kill anyone by accident.

He’s never had a particularly good handle on his emotions and got picked on a lot as a kid as a result of being so easy to get a rise out of.

The teachers tended to focus on him on the problem too.  Because he was the loudest.

Eventually he kind of caught on the best way to make people shut up and leave him alone was to hit them until they cried.

Had childhood Nystagmus which is significantly better now, but since it’s made worse with stress and fatigue and that’s basically Griffin’s default state you can sometimes catch him tilting his head at weird angles in an effort to see better.

His dad was paying for college but cut him off when he dropped medicine.  Griffin paid for things mostly by bare knuckle boxing.  

He’s broken his nose a few times and it’s permanently crooked.

His hair is fluffy.

He likes cats, although he’s not overly fond of them.   Same with dogs.  

Well, he hates dogs now that they hate him.

But he actually used to like dogs.  They were generally nicer than people.

He doesn’t baby talk animals but he will carry on long full conversations if one is around.  

Used to feed the neighbor lady’s cat occasionally because it’s scrawny and sad and keeps showing up at his window.  

Kind of had some friends in college, but not really.  He was never close with anyone and always got the distinct impression he was being looked down on.  

As a rule Griffin really doesn’ know what to do with affection or positive attention and tends to be really dismissive or harsh about it.

Despite this he does kind of latch on to anyone who is consistently nice to him and feels significantly more affection then he lets on.

He might legitimately not know how to be nice.

Just, doesn’t know how to be a pleasant human being at all.

Bad at planning and zero impulse control.

More self aware of this then he lets on but he refuses to admit when he’s wrong and absolutely does not know how to deescalate a situation or course correct when he’s fucked up.

He just keeps making more mistakes.

I think that’s also just canon.

Messy.  His work space and living space is always a mess and he’s very defensive about it

He knows where everything is.  Really.  He has a system!...He’s just not using it.

In any setting where Frankenstein is a novel he thing Victor is a whiny lil’ baby and absolutely Stans Adam.

Walton is boring and needs to shut up.  No one cares.  His sister doesn’t care.  We get it Victor is a sensitive uwu babey with pretty eyes.

GOD JUST GET TO THE SCIENCE!

Griffin has thoughts on Frankenstein is what I’m saying.

If he were a shape in Flatland he would be a rectangle.  

The St. Augustine blob is a whale.  Anyone who thinks otherwise is being absurd.

For a man who casually spits on the laws of physics Griffin is very dismissive of superstition and the supernatural.  He won’t discount his own experience, so like, if he saw a ghost he’d believe in ghosts.  But otherwise he is going to think it’s all poppycock.

On a similar note he’s an atheist.))

[absolutelynochillonlydeath]

Lion’s Heart

It was supposed to be a joke.

Just speculation.

It wasn’t supposed to be taken seriously.

That illusion was shattered with the first spray of blood and a glint of cold emerald eyes.

*

Corleone Izuku was in interesting boy, somewhat of a mystery to the school with his constant bodyguards and his knowledge on what seemed like everyone in UA, but was nonetheless a very likeable and kind person. He was funny, smart, a hard worker, and genuinely cared for his fellow classmates and the other friends he made in other classes. The class had warmed up to him quickly, despite the interference from the bodyguards, but the older men had warmed up to the class and the class to them eventually. They had even seemed to be more lenient on leaving the boy alone when in the company of the class as time wore on. One such occasion was when the class had gone to the mall…

It had been a regular day. The class had little to no homework to do and it was the weekend, so they were free to relax and spend the day as they pleased. With that, the class decided to go to the mall to enjoy themselves, even if they weren’t going to buy anything. Walking around the mall, the group of students chattered about their day and groaned about the next test that Aizawa was surely cooking up for them.

“So what do you think of UA, Izuku?” Uraraka asked, smiling at the boy beside her. Said boy was looking around in fascination at the mall and all the different stores. It was similar to the other malls he had seen, as that never really changes, but also bizarrely different with what they were selling.

“It’s amazing! I really enjoy the teachers and learning from them is very educational.” He said politely, smiling at the girl. Uraraka nodded enthusiastically.

“Right?! They’re all such amazing Heroes and they’re teaching us! It’s an amazing opportunity and they’re such great teachers!” she chattered enthusiastically, Izuku smiling and also talking about what an amazing opportunity it was to be attending the most exclusive and prestigious Hero school in the world and how they were enjoying the classes. In that time, they had managed to get separated from the rest of the class and they stopped their conversation in order to look for them, glancing around the area, but not spotting them.

“Hmmm…. I don’t see them.” Izuku said, looking around at the crowd. “Do you think we should call them?” he asked, turning his attention back to the girl only see her standing completely still, a look of slight fear in her eyes, and an inconspicuous looking man standing behind her and smiling pleasantly.

“You will be calling no one, boy.” The man muttered softly in what was familiar English. Izuku immediately tensed, glaring lightly at the man.

“What have you done to her?” he hissed back in English, but quiet enough to not gain any attention from the surrounding people.

“Nothing much, boy. Just a Quirk to keep her still and quiet for a while. But I can assure you that worse things may happen if you and the young lady here don’t come along quietly.” The man replied, voice low and smile still pleasant. Growling lowly, Izuku gave a subtle nod. Smiling, the man gently took the girl by the arm and led the way out of the mall, occasionally glancing back to see if the boy was following behind them. The man kept smiling as he led the way out and to the parking lot where an expensive looking black car was running. The man opened the back door of the car and quickly shoved the girl in, smiling and gesturing for Izuku to get in as well. Shooting a glare at the man, Izuku ducked down and entered the car, surprised to see that the interior was a dark warehouse. Looking behind him, he saw the man’s smiling face once more before the door closed, leaving him in the dark of the building.

“I-Izuku? Where are we?’ a female voice called shakily from behind him. Turning around, he saw that Uraraka had finally snapped out of her paralyzed state and was now looking around the area in alarm. Izuku simply shook his head.

“No idea. They used a portal Quirk to get us here, so we could be anywhere right now.” He answered, holding his hand out to help her up. Taking it, she pulled herself up and looked around. It was a rather small warehouse room they were stuck in with only one door out. They were leading them somewhere.

“Wh-why were we taken?” she asked the boy and Izuku looked at the door, a harsh scowl marring his usually softly features.

“I have an idea.” He muttered. “Come on. Stay behind me and if they’re there, don’t talk to them.” He warned and headed toward the door, taking a breath and glancing behind him to make sure Uraraka was following before opening it slowly, revealing a very plush looking office with three men at the front. As soon as they walked in, the door slammed behind then and two more men and restrained them, securing their arms behind their backs.

“Welcome, Izuku Corleone. Or I guess I should say Corleone Izuku since we are in your mother country.” The man in the middle spoke in English. Izuku looked him over and his frown deepened. He knew this man. He had met him before during a meeting in New York.

“Don Leo Alfonsi. What a surprise to see you here.” Izuku replied coolly, his face settling into his trademark poker face. “I had thought that the next time we met, it would be under more…hospitable circumstances.” He remarked and the older man smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I wouldn’t get cocky, brat.” The man growled. He made a certain hand motion which caused the guard holding Izuku to drag him forward in front of the Don. Said Don then sat back in his chair, looking more relaxed.

“Now, boy. Let’s talk business. The Corleone Family, your family, have been encroaching on our territory for far too long. As they were before, my family could do nothing against this breach or your family. The Corleone family had no weaknesses. But the big and powerful family has a weakness now.… You.” The man said, standing up slowly and walked around the room, feeling confident enough to even turn his back on the two Heroes in training. “You are the precious son and heir to the Underworld’s throne. With you as my hostage and pawn, I can make any demand at all of the Corleone.” He said sinisterly, his previously impassive face curling up into a cruel grin. Chuckling to himself, he lit up a cigar and turned around again to meet the boy’s cold eyed stare.

“And there’s nothing you can do about it either, now can you, boy? Powerless as you are and with a hostage in our grasp.’ the man taunted. Stepping closer to the restrained boy, but the teen gave away no emotion.

“What makes you think that there will be no retribution from us or our allies?” he asked calmly. “Once news gets out that you have turned your back on the Corleone and have made hostile moves against us, what makes you think that you will not bring a Mafia war down upon your head?” he asked, but the Don only smiled in reply, taking a long puff of his cigar.

“What makes you think that once the Corleone are beneath our thumb, that any of the other Families will make a move against the new kings of the Underworld?” the man swaggered.

“What do you mean by that?” Izuku asked, suspicious. Alfonsi’s sinister grin melted into one more resembling a satisfied cat, inhaling more smoke.

“What I mean is that I already have some of your supposed allies on my side. Several of the Mexican Cartel families and Yakuza have sided with me in this. Once the rest of your Allies see that they have turned to my side, there will be no stopping them from joining me!” the man bragged, taking in a long puff of smoke, much to the teen’s distaste.

“Don’t smoke in my face. And no ally of ours would ever side with an arrogant old man like you.” Izuku retorted. The Don just smiled egotistically and stepped closer to the boy.

“Tell that to the Yukishiro and Pruda families.” He chuckled, blowing a large puff of smoke in the boy’s face, but instead of being mad at the actions of the Don, the teen simply smiled, disarmingly charming and light despite the situation.

“Thank you very much for your cooperation. That was all we needed to know.” He said sweetly and before the Don or the guards could do anything more than look confused, there was the sound of glass shattering followed by a large thump on the floor. A brief moment of shocked silence followed before the room erupted into complete chaos. Izuku wrenched free from the now slackened hold of the guard behind him, quickly whipping out his hand and the daggers that had been hiding in his sleeve lodging dead center into the heads of his and Uraraka’s captors. At the same time, there were two more sounds of breaking glass as the bullets entered the bodies of the two other guards in the room. Finally, after what seemed like years of deafening noise, there was nothing left but loud silence. Crimson pooled on the luxurious carpet and green eyes scanned over the forms on the ground for any movement. Once he was assured that there was nothing but stillness, he held up his wrist, revealing an inconspicuous metal bracelet. Pressing a button, the bracelet lit up and came to life, the buzzing sound of voices coming from it.

“Young master!”

“Are you alright!?”

“Has everything been dealt with?!” the voices asked frantically and Izuku sighed internally. Always so worried about him…

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just some smoke inhalation. They didn’t hurt me at all.” He reassured the men and he could practically feel the relief radiate form the men. Looking down at the now dead Don, Izuku sighed.

“Get the cleaning crew down here. Clean job, but I’d rather not take any chances.” Izuku ordered and there was a small commotion on the other end of the line before confirming that his order was carried out. Nodding, Izuku let out a sigh, thinking back to the Don’s plans.

“Also, call my dad. I have some bad news.” He said softy and there was a solemn murmur of affirmation.

“We will be there soon, young master.” The man murmured.

“Thank you, Giovanni.” Izuku said and pressed the button again, the voices dying down. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he felt his lungs catch as a voice that he hadn’t heard since this all started speak softly.

“I-Izuku?” Uraraka asked. Turning around, Izuku could see that the girl was shaking and looking around the room in absolute terror. Specks of blood were spattered lightly on her cheek, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was frozen in place and cold only watch in fear as the boy she thought she knew scan over the fallen bodies, small specks of blood on his face and a merciless glint in his eyes. Wincing, Izuku stopped in place and sighed. This wasn’t going to be pleasant to deal with.

“Let’s go.” Izuku said softly, slowly reaching out his hand and gently taking her by the arm and leading her out of the room through a different door, being careful to keep her eyes off of the bodies. Once they were outside, he felt the girl give a jerk and he let her go without protest. At the influx of fresh air that erased the smell of copper, it seemed to knock Uraraka out of her daze and she quickly doubled over and leaned against the wall, feeling the bile rise up and spilling over. Izuku looked away politely and waited for her to finish, keeping an eye out for his body guards or for any of the Alfonsi family that my still be on the property.

“I-Izuku…” she said softly as she gasped for breath, form still trembling, turning her terrified eyes to her classmate. Izuku simply shook his head.

“Not here. Once we’re here safe, then you can ask me anything.” Izuku said firmly, not quite able to look her in the eyes. Before she got to say anything, agreement or otherwise, a black car pulled up and the three men that Uraraka recognized as the boy’s usual band of body guards got out, looking around cautiously. Izuku sighed in relief as he saw them and told them rapidly of the basics of how he and Uraraka had ended up there in quiet Italian. They nodded in understanding, weary lines pulling at their faces at the news and they gestured for the two students to get into the car.

“Uraraka. Come on. We have to go.” Izuku called out, startling the girl out of her daze and holding out a hand for her to take. She looked at him warily, her eyes darting from the blood on his cheek to his outstretched hand. Could she really trust him? Well, right now, she had to. She didn’t know where she was or how to get back and she had neglected to bring her phone with her on her trip. Cautiously, she took his hand and let him lead her to the car, sliding into the seat while the rest of them followed behind, sliding in with them or getting into the front. Izuku sighed in relief as he slid into the seat of the car. He felt himself relax slightly as he felt the car take off and the comforting presence of his men surrounded him. He let himself relax for that moment but pulled himself out of it a moment later. He still had something else to deal with. Not to mention talk to his father later about all he had learned, but for now, Uraraka took precedence.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this.” He apologized softly, turning to look at her and he saw her flinch slightly at the movement. Izuku sighed and at a gesture from one of his guards, he took an outstretched handkerchief and cleaned himself up, wiping away the stray blood and straightening out his clothes.

“And I’m sorry again for scaring you. I never meant for any of you to find out.” He muttered softly, looking down and Uraraka let out a small whimper.

“Wh-who are you?” she whispered quietly, terror in her voice. “A-are you a Villain?’ she choked out and tears welled in here eyes at the thought.

*

This was a thing i wrote with/for my cousin, but he abandoned it, so i did too. So now it’s here.

#my hero academia #mafia #the godfather #forever a WIP #Mafia Izuku #fanfiction #mafia au

[ofstormsandwolves]

The Fire

Part of Sunnydale 2019 Verse (after The New Girl)

Giles/Joyce

Buffy, Faith, Willow, Xander

Buffy finds herself facing a serious problem: how does she explain to her new friends the reasons for moving to Sunnydale? And will they desert her when they know the truth?

Read on AO3

“So you guys are still coming to mine after school?” Buffy asked as she sat down with Willow, Xander, and Faith in the cafeteria.

“Hell yeah,” Faith grinned. “Free food!”

Xander echoed her sentiments, and Willow rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we are,” she assured Buffy. Then, a little more softly, she asked: “Are you ok?”

Buffy forced a smile. “I’m fine. Still getting used to the new school, that’s all.”

Willow, to her credit, didn’t look like she bought that for a second, but seemed to let it slide.

“What are we doing at your place then, B?” Faith asked as she snagged some chips from the packet Xander had in his hand.

“Just hanging out,” Buffy shrugged awkwardly. “You know, hanging, chatting, that sort of thing.”

Faith’s eyes narrowed as she surveyed Buffy, and the blonde shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Willow seemed to notice this.

“Did you guys see the posters are up for this year’s science fair?” she asked hurriedly. “I was thinking of entering. Did any of you want to do a group project or something? I’d be happy to help.”

That was enough to tear Faith’s gaze away from Buffy. “No thanks,” Faith shrugged. “Science isn’t really my thing.”

Catching Willow’s eye, Buffy mouthed a ‘thank you’.

 By the time the last bell rang, Buffy was a nervous wreck. She knew her parents were right, and that talking to her new friends sooner rather than later would be better for all involved. But it was embarrassing, and scary, and she wasn’t sure what she’d do if they turned their backs on her. She was fairly certain she had no chance at getting in with Cordelia’s group now that she had been seen with Willow and Xander, and although she didn’t want to be friends with Cordelia, it would have been nice to have that safety net. Instead there was... Nothing.

The walk to Revello Drive was tense and awkward, even though Buffy was certain Xander and Faith weren’t really picking up on it. The house was empty when they got there, with Giles still at the school and Joyce at the gallery, and Buffy unlocked the door to usher them all in.

“Now what?” Faith asked as she flopped onto the sofa, rucksack abandoned by the front door. “You gonna spill?”

Buffy blinked. “What?”

Faith fixed her with a look. “Are you gonna tell us what’s been bothering you?”

“Yeah,” Xander agreed as he flopped down on the opposite end of the sofa to Faith, “you’ve been acting weird all day. I know I’ve only known you a day, but even I could tell something was up.”

Buffy bit her lip, taking in her new friends, all of whom were watching her with concern. “You have to promise to let me finish before you completely wig, ok?”

“Sure, Buff,” Willow said, giving her a concerned smile as she settled herself on the floor.

Buffy sighed and sat down next to Willow, facing the sofa. “I need to explain a little about who I was in LA.”

This wasn’t going to be like junior high. She was better than that. Buffy Anne Summers had had enough of being the cutesy kid who got overlooked. She was a high schooler now, and she had to make her mark somehow.

Already she was planning on signing up for the cheer team, but she knew she had to do more than that to become popular. It wasn’t that she’d been unpopular in junior high, and she’d had a nice group of friends, but things changed. When you got to high school you changed. Buffy didn’t want to just blend in, she wanted to be better than that. She wanted to be in with the popular crowd.

The cheerleading tryouts went better than she could have dreamed, and she even made the team. In fact, her tryout was so good that she soon had the older cheerleaders approaching her in the corridors.

“Buffy,” Natasha Collins greeted with a smug grin. “I want to talk to you.”

Well, Natasha was the head cheerleader, and a senior, and Buffy wasn’t about to jeopardise her place on the team by saying no. So she nodded and followed Natasha and her friends to the bathroom.

“We know you’re new to the squad,” Natasha said once they’d all gathered in the bathroom, “but you need to maintain a certain image if you’re going to be on the cheer squad.”

Buffy bristled a little at that, but kept her mouth shut.

One of the junior year cheerleaders nodded at that. Buffy thought her name was Brooke. “Yeah. You need to learn to stand up for yourself. Nobody messes with us, ok?”

“I do stand up for myself,” Buffy responded with a frown.

“Do you though?” asked another girl. “Because this isn’t about only standing up for yourself when someone calls you a name, Buffy. It’s more than that. You’re on the squad now, and you need to make it clear that you’re not to be messed with.”

“What we’re saying,” Natasha explained with a cruel smile, “is that you need to make it clear that you’re the boss. Knock a few people down, critique a few outfits on your way to class, make it clear that you’re stronger than the rest of them. We can’t have weak people on the squad.”

Buffy swallowed, but nodded. She wanted to be on the team. She wanted to be popular. It wasn’t a big deal, was it?

“Ok.”

“Geez,” Faith muttered as Buffy finished explaining her first few weeks on the Hemery High cheer squad.

“I know,” Buffy grimaced. “And it kinda gets worse. I... I picked on quite a few people. It was made clear to me that that was part of being on the cheer squad, and I was so scared they’d kick me out, so I just went along with it. I managed to avoid the social media stuff, told them that my mom regularly checked my accounts. They tried to get me to set up fake accounts, but I kept making excuses.”

She took a deep breath. “I couldn’t get out of it at school, though. The rest of the team would follow me, and they’d wait in the corridor while I picked someone out to mock. I hated it. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t know what to do. It happened so often the teachers must have known, but nothing ever seemed to happen. And if I’d told my mom or Giles, I’d have to tell them what was going on.  So I never let on to them. I lied about what was going on at school, who I was hanging out with, who my friends were. I didn’t even tell them when I started dating a guy, because he was in his junior year, and he’d only looked in my direction because of how I acted at school. He’d thought I was cool and pretty, and he liked it when I made fun of people. And I liked that he liked me, so I thought ‘why not keep doing this?’”

It had been so easy to lie. Painfully easy.

“Where have you been?”

“I was at Bridgette’s house, Mom. I told you last week.”

“Oh. Well, call next time.”

“Ok.”

The lies kept coming and coming. Once she’d started it was like she couldn’t stop.

“I’m going to the movies on Friday night.”

“Have you asked your mother?”

“Yes, Giles.”

“Good. Who are you going with?”

My new boyfriend. “Just some girls from drama class.”

“Well, have fun.”

They never seemed to notice. Or if they did, then they didn’t care. At least that was the way Buffy saw it. Her parents didn’t care what she did, so why did it matter if she lied? She was fifteen, she was old enough to make her own decisions. She didn’t need Giles’s concerned looks or her mom’s disapproving glare. So what if she was hanging out with older girls? So what if her boyfriend was seventeen? So what, so what, so what?

It was easier for everyone if her parents didn’t know. Her real dad didn’t care anyway, he hardly ever came to see her. He was always working. Of course, Buffy knew that what he was actually doing was getting off with his secretary. Her parents didn’t know that she knew that.

At the end of the day, she had fun with her new friends, and her mom and Giles didn’t seem too fussed about what she was doing, so why should it matter? It wasn’t like anybody was really getting hurt.

Ok, there were the occasional harsh comments. The occasional girl crying in the bathroom because of something Buffy had said. And she felt bad about it, but her new friends were always watching, always waiting. One wrong move and they’d be on her like a pack of dogs. She had to prove she was strong. She had to prove she belonged.

She did belong. Right?

Willow and Xander had been silent, just staring at Buffy with wide eyes.

“You... You don’t still think like that, do you?” Willow asked nervously.

“No,” Buffy said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s why I’m telling you, though. I deleted everyone off my social media accounts after I left Hemery, and I don’t talk to any of them. But there’s still a chance people might find out this stuff, if they dig deep enough, and I didn’t want you guys to hear about it through rumours.”

“Is this why you got kicked out?” Xander asked with a frown. “For bullying?”

Buffy shook her head. “No. But the reason I got kicked out feeds into the bullying thing.”

“Hey, Buffy,” Tyler greeted as he bent down to press a kiss to Buffy’s lips.

She tried to ignore the whoops and cheers of the other football players and cheerleaders watching them. Then, Tyler broke the kiss and climbed up over the bleachers to sit behind her. Instinctively, she leaned back against him.

“Me and the others were thinking of having a little fun tonight if you’re interested,” he told her in an easy manner.

Buffy looked up at her boyfriend with a small frown as the others cheered and whooped again. “Doing what?” she asked.

Tyler smirked and quirked his eyebrow at her. “Are you scared?”

“No,” Buffy retorted quickly.

But some of Tyler’s friends started laughing then, as did some of the other cheerleaders who were hanging off the players’ arms.

“I’m not,” Buffy insisted again.

“Leave her alone,” Tyler said, although he was laughing too. “She’s only a freshman after all. She can’t compete with us juniors just yet.”

There was more laughing, and Buffy felt her hackles rise. They always talked down to her. Always seemed to think she was a kid. She wasn’t. She was fifteen. That wasn’t a kid.

“Whatever it is, I wanna come,” she told Tyler, turning to look him in the eyes.

Tyler smirked. “Good. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Tyler did as he said he would. At eight pm sharp, Buffy climbed out her bedroom window and met Tyler at their usual meeting point at the end of the street. It was better her mom and Giles didn’t know about her sneaking out.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they made their way along the street.

“To have some fun,” Tyler told her with a grin. “C’mon. Josh is picking us up on the corner of Maple and Grosvenor.”

Buffy didn’t really like the fact Tyler wouldn’t tell her what was going on, but if she asked more questions he might start thinking she’d gotten cold feet. She hadn’t, she just wanted to know what was going on.

They got into Josh’s car, Buffy squashed on Tyler’s lap in the back of the car, Matt and Cody also in the back with them. Up front were Josh and Dylan.

“Pike’s meeting us there,” Matt announced with a grin as Josh sped along the roads. “So are the girls.”

“Why?” Buffy asked with a frown.

Pike was a senior, and often hung around with the football team despite not actually being on the team himself. He had a slightly dangerous air about him, with his motorcycle and leather jacket. Buffy supposed that in another life she might have had a crush on him.

“Why d’you want to know?” Matt leered.

Arching an eyebrow at him, Buffy stared back. “Because I want to know what’s going on.”

Tyler sniggered underneath her. “Patience, Buffy,” he teased. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

 Buffy felt sick. Pike had met them at the school, and had immediately helped unload stuff from the trunk of Josh’s car. Buffy had been made to stand with the girls- Brooke, and Natasha, and a few other cheerleaders. She couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone knew what was going on except her.

“Come on then, boys,” Tyler grinned as he started towards the gym.

As he got closer to Buffy, she could see he was carrying a plastic box filled with cans of spray paint. Oh. She felt herself deflate a little at that. It was just a bit of paint. Nobody was going to get hurt, nothing really bad was going to happen. And if it just took a little bit of spray paint to make everyone think she was cool, where was the harm in that? After that, she felt herself relax a little, and even accepted one of the cans Tyler tossed towards her. Neon pink. Nice.

Between the twelve of them, they were soon busy spraying the brick wall of the gym. Some of them opted for designs, but a few of the boys opted to simply spray paint swear words onto the wall in neon paint.

After nearly half an hour, Pike stepped back to admire his work, pulling his cigarettes and a box of matches from his pocket. “Not bad,” he told them as he stepped closer again, cigarette between his lips as he fumbled for a match.

He managed to strike one, and lit his cigarette before flicking the used match away.

“Give me those matches,” Josh said, holding out his hand.

Pike shrugged, and handed the box over. “Don’t use them all.”

But Josh just snorted and ignored him. Within moments, he had a match lit, and only a second after that, Matt and he were creating flamethrowers out of the unused spray paint, laughing all the while.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Buffy told Tyler worriedly.

Tyler just laughed. “Oh, lighten up. It’s fine. We do this stuff all the time.”

Somehow, that didn’t exactly calm Buffy. But there was nothing she could do, nobody would listen to her. Pike was watching the scene with disdain, cigarette between his lips as he eyed the juniors. He didn’t seem too pleased either, but he wasn’t stepping in. Just as Buffy was about to say something, there was a scream, and she looked around to see that the can in Matt’s hands had caught fire.

Panicking, he threw it as hard as it could, and it shattered the window of the gym. Within moments, fire could be seen raging in the windows.

“Oh, dude,” Cody laughed, “I think you set the banners on fire!”

There was a sudden bang, like the can had exploded, and smoke started billowing from windows.

“Shit!” Tyler yelled, scrambling away from the gym.

Pike grabbed Buffy by the arm and hauled her away, as everyone started scrambling towards the parking lot. Buffy found herself bundled into the back of Josh’s car, and by the time the adrenaline wore off, she was standing on her front lawn as the car sped off into the distance.

“The Police came round later that night,” Buffy admitted quietly. “Some people who worked in a store opposite the school saw everything and called the police. Mom and Giles were furious with me, and there was a whole court thing, and I got kicked out of school.”

“Fuck,” Faith murmured, eyes wide. Her expression was somewhere between shock and excitement. Buffy wasn’t sure she liked that.

“Yeah. I didn’t actually get charged with the burning down of the gym, seeing as it was Matt and Josh who were doing the whole ‘setting-fire-to-stuff’ thing. But I still got in trouble for the spray painting. Mom and Giles had to pay a fine. I’m still trying to pay it back.”

Xander was looking almost as eager as Faith. “How much was it? The fine?”

Buffy grimaced. “Loads. Like, thousands. Giles has family money, and he ended up using some of that. I felt awful. And my dad didn’t even contribute a dollar to it. Said it was Mom’s fault for not keeping a closer eye on me.” She rolled her eyes at that. “And it all happened because I wanted to be popular.”

There was an awkward silence then, and Buffy stared down at her lap. Then, she felt a hand on her arm. Looking up, she saw Willow smiling uncertainly at her.

“It’s ok, Buffy,” Willow told her gently. “You made a mistake. We’ve all done it. I mean, we haven’t all burned down the school, but, but we’re not perfect either.”

“Yeah,” Xander chimed in, “I’m not one for setting the gym on fire, but if you want to hang out and do less flammable things I’m down with that.”

“I’m all for fire, by the way,” Faith shrugged with a grin. “But I’m down for anything if there’s snacks.” She waggled her eyebrows at Buffy, who sighed and got to her feet.

“I think my mom left snacks in the kitchen,” she told them. “Wanna go see what we can find?”

And as Xander and Faith raced their way to the kitchen, Buffy shared a smile with Willow. Everything was going to be ok.

#Sunnydale 2019 verse #buffy fanfic #buffy summers #faith lehane #willow rosenberg #xander harris

[tuckermouse]

OHSHC x Reader: 1

It was inevitable, sure. But it wouldn’t be taken lightly.

My dad was transferred to Japan for his job and frankly, it’s been hard to adjust. I mean, come on. The culture is so different-cool and fun too, but I’m not quite ready to admit that yet-and the language? It took forever to learn. Despite all that, moving wasn’t unfamiliar to me. This was just a level up, after all those years of only moving state to state. I was disappointed, as my parents promised that we would no longer move once I was in high school. Yet here I am, ready for my first day at Ouran. I’m not one to brag or anything like that, but I was luckily accepted into the school on scholarship. This scholarship covers tuition cost and books, but not uniforms. Frankly, I am not disappointed in missing out on that. Those banana peel dresses would be the death of me, and I’m not quite ready to die (despite the numerous jokes I may or may not make).

My phone buzzed and I looked to see a message from Mom. “Thanks for making lunches, sweetheart!” my mom texted. I already forgot that I made lunches for my siblings-two of them. My third sibling is only a toddler so she doesn’t have school yet. The other two are 8 and 6, making me the oldest. I replied, “no problem,” before getting into my car. It’s old, but it works. That’s all that matters to me. I started the car and drove to school...with all those damn rich people.

Once I got there, I parked and gawked at the size of the building. That, and the fact that it was pink. That’s...interesting. Before I could even stroll in, however, two people linked their arms with mine. “Hello, scholarship student,” they began, “welcome to Ouran. Need a tour?”. I glanced to my left and then to my right. Identical twins were wiggling their eyebrows back at me. “Not right now, but I do need to get my class schedule fixed. Can you two lead me to the guidance office?”

They looked surprised for a moment. “It’s unusual for Ouran,” began one, “to screw up a schedule,” finished the other. “Let us see!” They snatched the paper away. “Hey, we have the exact same schedule! There’s nothing to fix here!” I laughed at their antics. “Well, I’ve already taken Biology and Geometry, and I don’t plan on taking either again.” They stared at me like an animal at the zoo and said, “Wow, you really ARE an honors student.”

“Thanks...can you take me now?” I responded a bit nervously. I don’t need recognition, it’s embarrassing! Kinda! “Absolutely!” they exclaimed as they began to drag me to the office. “Woah woah woah, guys that’s okay, I can walk myself-”

“Here!” they interjected. And here it was. “Thank you both so much, I’m sure I would have gotten lost.” I looked at the one to the right first and then the left. The one to the right responded by smirking, and the one to the left responded through his eyes widening. I already can tell a difference between them, point (Y/N). “Of course, it’s always pleasure-”

“-to help a maiden in need.”

“Need a hand with anything else?” they said in unison while getting way too close to my face. “Anything at all?” they asked, winking. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be off now. See ya!” I said rather loudly before rushing into the office. I felt how hot my face was. Gosh, they push my buttons.

“And what are you doing here?” an old voice croaked rudely. I looked up to see an elderly woman sitting at a receptionist desk and glaring at me. “Oh! Good morning, I’m new here and I needed my schedule fixed. Is there a way that I can-”

“Oh, you Americans think you’re so smart and entitled. Psh, you go on now before you keep wasting my time.” I was so shocked at this small woman’s harshness. “I-I’m sorry ma’am, but I need this fixed-”

“You’re still here? Go to the other office. This isn’t the right one for that nonsense,” she spat. “Oh, o-okay,” I mumbled before sprinting out. I slowed to a walk and became consumed in my thoughts. How could I find the other office? This place needs one of those maps like the ones at the mall. How can I possibly find my way around-

“Hey!” a male voice rang as I felt a force hit my front. I ran into a person on the first day. A rich person, probably. Oh, no. “Oh my gosh, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I was lost in thought and I wasn’t paying attention and-”

“It’s okay, princess. It was only an accident. What had you worried so?” I followed the smooth voice to the owner and saw-wow-a tall blonde looking at me with his blue eyes. Who knew so many handsome young men went here? “Well, I was led by identical twins to the guidance office so I could get my schedule fixed, but the woman there was super rude to me and basically called me a stupid, entitled American and coldly told me to find the other office. Now I’m here,” I concluded, smiling up at him. “Those shady twins! They should know by now where to take you!” the boy began, “I’ll take you to my father, he’s the chairman. He’ll be able to help you and take care of that mean lady!”. He grabbed my hand and led the way. I blushed at the gesture but decided to ignore it. It’s friendly, just as the twin’s teasing was. When we finally reached the chairman’s office, the boy knocked on the door. “We’ll get this solved, princess” he smiled at me. “Thank you so much,” I replied. The door opened to reveal a man that did in fact look like the boy’s father. “Why, hello, Tamaki. I see you’ve befriended the new honors student.” Before Tamaki could respond, I said, “So your name is Tamaki? I’m (Y/N).”

“My boy didn’t introduce himself?! Oh my, how rude that is. Did I not teach you better?” the older man cried. Tamaki sulked as he tried to explain, “I was too busy trying to help her! She needs her schedule fixed and the receptionist called her mean names!”. The chairman looked a bit surprised. “Is this true?” he questioned, looking at me. “Yes, she said that as an American I am stupid and entitled...but I don’t want any trouble! I just want a corrected schedule.”

“Well then, step inside my office. I’m Mr. Suoh, and as you already know I am the chairman here. I will surely have that woman out by the end of the day, and we’ll get you a schedule right now. Good thing you came in early, (Y/N)-chan.” The chairman offered a rose to me. I took it, a bit shocked that he used “chan” to address me and wondering where he got that rose from. Seeing this, Tamaki pouted. I chuckled at his reaction before saying, “please, I really don’t mean any trouble with the woman. Maybe she was having a bad morning.”

“She spoke rudely and unprofessionally to a student. Regardless of where you are from, you are as much of a student here as anyone else. You’ve gained entry on wit and intelligence alone, and you deserve to be recognized for it. Her behavior is not tolerated here,” Mr. Suoh spoke, suddenly serious. I nodded and whispered a quick “thank you,”.

“Now about that schedule...”

“So you have every class with us except math and science. You’ll be with the year 2 students!” the twins exclaimed, gazing at my schedule. “I guess so. Would it be alright if you two allowed for me to join you on your way to classes?”

“Of course, (Y/N)” the twins responded. They’ve already introduced themselves, but I couldn’t help but to continue to scroll through the list of characteristics I’ve taken note on so far. Hikaru has a deeper voice and Kaoru has a raspier voice. Hikaru tends to be more mischievous and starts sentences first when the two aren’t speaking in unison. Kaoru is a bit calmer, quieter, and more observant. The homeroom president began announcements. “...and welcome our new student, all the way from America: (L/N) (Y/N)!” I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard my name. Crap! The president gestured for me to come to the front. I sighed and walked up to the front of the class. “Hello,” I said, mustering as much confidence as I could, “I look forward to learning more about you all, the culture, and the school. I’m sure we’ll have a great year!”. The class clapped while some people started to whisper to one another. Great...

The first few classes were...interesting. It was the first day, so I wasn’t assigned much homework yet. However, now it’s time for the twins and I to go our different ways. “We will miss you greatly, (Y/N),” they whined. “Oh, hush. I’ll see you two at lunch?” They brightened up, “yeah! See ya!”, and off they ran. I chuckled before realizing that I had no idea how to get to my next class. Naturally, I was just a few seconds after the bell walking into class...which is full of second year students. This is exactly what I fear in life. “Nice of you to join us, miss (Y/N),” the teacher said. “I’m very sorry, I got lost,” I explained, a bit flushed. “It won’t count against you as you are new here. While you’re up here, introduce yourself.”

God, no. “Okay...” I said despite my inner thoughts screaming to just say hi and sit down. “My name is (L/N) (Y/N) and I am a first year here. I transferred from America if you can’t tell from my accent. I look forward to getting to know you all and having a great year!” I said, smiling at the end while hoping to win some people over. Wow, I need friends. “Thank you, now please take a seat next to Tamaki,” the teacher gestured to the blonde waiting at his seat in excitement. “(Y/N)! That was great!” Tamaki said to me. “Thank you, I was pretty nervous.” I glanced around the room and saw people occasionally looking at me before whispering to a companion. This is my worst nightmare. As I was looking around the room, my eyes met with grey ones looking intently in my direction. There was a boy with raven hair and glasses perched a bit too low, perhaps for dramatic effect. He then turned away. “Oh, that’s Kyoya! Wanna go meet him?” Tamaki asked enthusiastically. “Um, okay. If he doesn’t mind.” Hearing my confirmation, Tamaki grabbed my hand for the second time that day and led me over to Kyoya. “Kyoya, isn’t the transfer student cute? She’s gonna do just fine here, isn’t she?” Tamaki said dramatically. I blushed at this and said, “Hey, I’m only a transfer student. Thanks, though.”

“Ootori Kyoya. Pleasure to meet you, miss (Y/N),” the raven haired boy spoke while smiling rather...artificially. His hand was held out towards me, so I shook it firmly and said, “The pleasure is all mine, mister Kyoya.” If he was going to be purely professional, maybe that’s how he liked his friendships. So I thought I’d give it a try. “(Y/N)...”

“Yes, Tamaki?”

“Call me mister Tamaki! Just once!”

“What? No!”

“Oh, come on! Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaasssse!”

“Pllllleeeeeeaaaaassssseee!”

This boy with his damn puppy eyes was about to break me. “Fine! I don’t know why you’re being such a weirdo about it...mister Tamaki,” I grumbled. “Yes! The princess finally did it! Just for me!”

“Actually, she called me mister Kyoya first. It was originally just for me,” Kyoya said, smirking at the elated blonde. Just like that, Tamaki deflated. “You’re so mean, Kyoya!” Tamaki claimed before pouting. I laughed and said, “Good one” to Kyoya. He smirked at me as well. When Tamaki didn’t move for a solid minute, I went over to check up on him. “Tamaki, we’re going to be late for lunch! Let’s go eat,” I said, touching his shoulder as he crouched. Suddenly standing up, Tamaki was filled with determination. “To the cafeteria!” he pointed heroically. I wasn’t falling for it. “Let’s go. Romeo,” I said, beginning to walk with Kyoya.

Once we were at the cafeteria, I was shocked at the sight. School food never looked better. I was so used to seeing the gross pizza and slimy fries that I grew accustomed to just bringing my own lunch. Regardless, I probably couldn’t afford the food here anyway, so a packed lunch still served a purpose. “Aren’t you coming?” Kyoya asked. “This is just...bizarre,” I said, still dazed. “This is quite normal here at Ouran. After all, this is a highly elite school,” Kyoya responded rather posh-like. I rolled my eyes at this and scoffed. “I promised Hikaru and Kaoru that I’d have lunch with them. Do either of you know where I can find them?”

“We eat with them, princess. Come with us!” Tamaki said, pulling me along. This made some girls turn and glare. Jeez...it seems he has a fan club. “Oh, (Y/NNNNNN). We miiiissed yoooouuuu,” the twins said as Tamaki, Kyoya, and I approached the table. “Leave my (Y/N) alone, you shady twins!” Tamaki exclaimed, launching the three into a little debate. I turned to Kyoya and asked, “Are they always like this?” Kyoya then replied, “Usually, but it’s best to ignore them. This is Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai, two third years. Honey-senpai, Mori-senpai, this is (Y/N). The new transfer student.” I saw the two third years as they sat at the table. The smaller boy cutely said, “Hello, (Y/N)-chan! I’m Honey! Would you like a piece of my cake? Oh, and can I have the strawberry? That’s my favorite part. Maybe we can go halfsies?” I smiled warmly at the boy and said, “Thank you, Honey-senpai. I would love some of your cake.” Then I looked up at the much taller and much more stoic boy. “I assume you’re Mori-senpai?” I asked. He nodded and said a small, “yes”. I smiled at him and I swear I saw the smallest bit of a smile on his lips. This made me smile more. “Speaking of senpai, (Y/N), you should call ME senpai! It only makes sense, as I am your strong and noble upperclassman! Now go on! Call me senpai, princess!” Tamaki exclaimed whilst gazing at me in anticipation. “Sorry, Tamaki, but I don’t think I should feed your ego that much,” I said, jokingly. Tamaki began to sulk as the twins began to laugh. “That was-” “-too good!” they said. Tamaki snapped, “You two hush! She will call me senpai one day! I know it!” and the three launched into another playful argument. I laughed at this. “Here’s your piece. (Y/N)-chan! It’s not really halfsies...I got too hungry while you were talking. So it was quartersies until I got even more hungry...now its eighthsies? I’m sorry...” Honey said, sadly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Honey. Thank you for sharing! It means a lot to me,” I said genuinely, smiling at my upperclassman. His eyes widened a bit until he giggled said, “No problem!”. Mori gave me a pat on the head. Huh, those two are quite the duo.

It was about time to leave lunch, and on the way out I spotted a girl without a uniform eating alone outside. Perhaps she’s also an honors student? “I’ll catch you guys later,” I said before walking up to her. “Hello,” I said, “I’m (Y/N). What’s your name?”

A bit taken aback by the sudden visitor-aka me-the girl said, “Haruhi. I’m in your homeroom.”

“Really? Cool! Do we have any other classes together?” The girl nodded, “Every class you have with those twins, I have with you as well.”

“I’m terribly sorry I haven’t spoken to you before, but at least we know each other now! Us ‘commoners’ have to stick together!” I said. Haruhi laughed and replied, “You got that right.”

Glad to make a new friend, I suddenly remembered that the bell will ring soon. “Now let’s get to Literature, I heard the teacher is super strict.” And so the two girls walked to class, happily chatting along the way.

Note: None of these characters are mine, I just want to write about them. I thought this chapter was getting a bit too long so I cut it off there, even though it’s a bit of an awkward place to stop. Each line is a text break that means that a period of time has passed. 

#ohshc #ohshc tamaki #ohshc kyoya #ohshc kaoru #ohshc honey #ohshc hikaru #ohshc mori #ohshc haruhi #ohshc x reader #x reader #anime #anime fandom #ouran host club #ouran hshc #tamaki suoh #kyoya ootori #hikaru and kaoru #haruhi ouran #tamaki x reader #kyoya x reader #mori x reader #kaoru #anime x reader

[schlemptime]

Less Than Lavender (2017)

Every one of the boys on my team had gotten new helmets this year except for me. Mine was grass stained, scratched, its stickers peeled off the back. The white with its blue stripes had faded from the sunlight. It smelled a bit, but that only bothered my mom. None of my teammates had said anything about my old helmet to my face, but I knew they would talk about after practice once I had ridden my bike home and while they waited for their moms or dads or older siblings to come pick them up. And they did talk about it. Harrison told me that night at our sleepover while we were brushing our teeth. He said it then because he knew he’d be hard to understand him with a mouth full of toothbrush and toothpaste. We dropped the subject as soon as he brought it up, which was fine with me.

“What do you think of that girl?” Harrison asked me as we sat on my bedroom floor that night. I started shuffling the deck of cards in my hands.

“That new girl on our team?” I asked.

“Yeah, duh. I think her name’s Jude.” I couldn’t remember her name, but I knew it wasn’t Jude. Maybe it was. Truly, I couldn’t remember.

“Don’t know yet.” I shrugged and dealt the cards out, four to each of us. “Kind of weird that she’s on a football team, I think.”

“Yeah.”

“Is there not a girls’ team?” I asked. Harrison shrugged.

“You got any threes?” I looked down at my cards and shook my head.

“Go fish. You got any Jacks?” He groaned and handed me two of them. It went back and forth until we heard someone coming up the stairs to my room and we jumped into the bed. Lights were still on and we were stifling a laugh. After my mom peaked into the room and turned off the overhead light, we sat up and played more cards. It must have been so late, like a ten o’clock kind of late. Some crazy Friday night idea. The next morning I could hardly get out of bed, I could hardly make it to football practice.

——

Harrison was the type of kid who was picked on alot, but kind of for no reason. Some boys on our football team made fun of his weight, other boys made fun of his red hair or his bad grades or his very, very slight lisp. But even though I didn’t mind him at all, I still made it a secret that he was my best friend. On Saturday mornings after our usual sleepover, I’d tell him to race me to practice by going down a different street. I’d always get there first; he would arrive a few minutes later out of breath and throw his bike on the ground.

He was the first boy on the team to reach out to the girl. After practice, he’d tell me what he’d learned about her that day to dilute any rumors. Like her name was Lavender even though her favorite color was yellow. And apparently Lavender thanked Harrison when he didn’t say stuff along the lines of yellow is a boy color. He let her be, and it worked out.

He invited me to the park with them sometimes. We’d all sit underneath the trees around the playground or sometimes at the picnic benches. Lavender would point out weird things younger kids did and laughed at teenage babysitters who ran after babies. Harrison would butt in every once in awhile, attempting to say something funny. It didn’t work. He only got glares from Lavender in the end, putting him in his place. She ran us all. And even though I would usually intervene at times like that, I never did. Afterall, her ranking was far above me. She ran faster during football practice. She beat me when we raced bikes. I blamed it on how small she was; she was more aerodynamic, I guess. But sometimes I just let her win.

——

“So, what do you think of a girl being on our football team, Jimi?” I turned my head to see Paul walking faster to catch up with me. “I think it’s weird.”

“Huh. Doesn’t bother me too much,” I responded. He nodded and said he agreed. That usually happened. Because I was a little older than the other boys, I was a decision maker for them.I could probably tell them I believed the color blue didn’t exist, and they’d agree. Ahead of us was some of the team heading towards their treehouse. Ever since Harrison had been hanging out with Lavender than with me, I was going to their meetings together.

“I heard David’s gonna try to get her off the team,” Paul said. We got to the bottom of the tree and I began climbing up the flimsy ladder. I told him that wouldn’t happen.

But as soon as the last boys entered the tree house, David pulled the curtain that worked as a door and stood at the front of the treehouse. He held his chin up so high that I could hardly see his eyes. His shaggy hair fell to the sides of his round face, the same style of hair every boy in the room had, including me.

“Today we have some important stuff to discuss,” he announced. Out of his pocket he pulled a crumpled piece of paper. He read, “the new football team, I think, needs some mending. Can we all agree?” Everybody nodded.

“Jude needs to go!” somebody shouted. Lavender. It was Lavender. How the name got to Jude was a mystery to me. But everybody around me nodded.

The rest of the “meeting” went on like that, making plans on how they could all make the team boys only again. After about ten minutes, we side-tracked and started making game plans that would never be approved by Coach. When David’s mom yelled up to treehouse that dinner was ready, we all agreed on coming back next Friday (as we usually did) and left.

——

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Lavender said. She stood up and brushed dirt off her skirt. As she strutted to her bicycle, her ponytail bounced back and forth. Harrison groaned and pushed himself off the ground; I had him help me up.

He asked where we would go, and she yelled The treehouse! and took off on her neon pink bike.

I don’t think I ever rode a bike any faster. Trying to keep up with her, yelling No! You’re not allowed there! until I was out of breath and just followed. Lavender only stopped when we got to the tree trunk. She dropped her bike, and I did the same, breathing too heavily. I followed her up the rope ladder, through the curtain door, into the elaborate treehouse. When she took a seat on the floor, I stood above her.

“You’re not allowed in the treehouse,” I said, my arms crossed over my chest. She shrugged.

“Is anybody else here?” she asked mockingly. I shook my head, but obviously no one was in the room with us. “Then it doesn’t concern me, Jimi.” She took out her ponytail and tied her hair back up again. We didn’t acknowledge the fact that Harrison hadn’t come with us. At least he knew that he wasn’t allowed in the treehouse. Not that I truly cared about the place, but I surely didn’t want to betray David. He was harsh about his rules.

Lavender started talking about Mrs. Holly’s science class as she messed with her hair more. How they collected bugs for extra credit, took fire to some powdery stuff that smelled awful, planted flowers in the school playground. On Mondays, she said, they did fun things like that. But I had a different science teacher, one that didn’t let our class collect bugs.

“That sucks,” she mumbled. I never heard a girl say that before, and I cringed.

She laughed and took off her shoes. “But do you know what really sucks?” she asked, almost mocking me. “The fact I can’t play football again next year. Coach said he didn’t want me to get hurt because we’ll be in sixth grade next year and you boys will be too strong. I don’t think he knows that I beat David in an arm wrestling competition and-”

Suddenly, David bursted into the treehouse. We didn’t even hear him climb up the ladder.

“Hey! Get out of here!” he yelled.

He grabbed me by my elbows with the help of another boy and threw me out the curtain door. Actually threw me from six feet above the ground. That sucked. And they did the same to Lavender. Repeatedly she shouted Get off me! Get off me! Get off me! until they threw out of the door too. Her body made a loud thud as it slammed against the dirt. All I saw after that was her stand right back up, climb the ladder, and burst back into the treehouse. Through the open curtain, I saw her send a punch straight to David’s face and spit on his feet.

“I can’t believe you,” she mumbled. I could hardly make out the words from outside the treehouse. David was silent. She continued, “actually throwing us out from up here. You’re disgusting, David.”

She went right back down the ladder, helped me up, and got on her bike. That was Lavender. Some sort of immortal girl.

——

David asked me to come back to his meetings only two weeks later. And surprisingly, he also invited Harrison. The Saturday after he asked me I went. Nothing was said about being thrown out of the treehouse, but I made sure he saw my color changing bruises and sprained wrist. Maybe it made him hurt a bit, too. The meeting went the same as all the other ones. David held his chin unreasonably high and occasionally blew the hair out of his face. He announced that Lavender was off the team for the next year and the boys around me cheered; he made sure that his dad would do that, as he was the coach’s son.

“I think she should stay on the team,” I said, staring David down. Harrison quickly turned towards me shaking his head. “She’s a fast runner and has made a few touchdowns.”

“Somebody’s got a crush on the football girl, huh?” David asked, not necessarily to me I didn’t think. A few boys nodded in agreement and chuckled.

“No.” My cheeks got hot.

“Prove it.”

“How?”

David paused for a second.

“Destroy her fort!” somebody called. I turned around to see Paul with his hand in the air and a smirk on his face. His curly blond hair seemed to stick out in all directions that day.

Lavender had a fort made of small, fallen trees in the woods behind her house that only her older brother, Harrison, and I could hide out in. It was covered with a tarp so she could stay in it even when it rained. A yellow sign hung above the entrance that read Get out!!!!!!!!! in her loopy cursive.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

“Everything,” David told me.

——

Some of David’s friends followed me and Harrison to the fort that night after we all had dinner at home. It could only be found in the vast woods if we followed the trees with yellow spray painted stars on them. When we reached the fort, the boys immediately took to destroying it. Harrison and I, however, stood to the side.

The sunset painted a bright red behind the shadowed trees. Everything was silent except for a few birds and the sound of the boys pacing on the forest floor and kicking in the fort, stepping on leaves and pinecones and twigs, cracking wood. I stood there unmoving.

“What, are you a wimp, Jimi?” David yelled over to me from the other side of the fort. He saw I wasn’t destroying the fort with them. “You in love with Lavender?” A few of the boys chuckled. I felt my cheeks get hot and was thankful for the darkness. But David stalked over and pushed me towards the fort. My shoulders burned, still bruised from the fall. I knew what he wanted me to do.

So I did it. I drew my leg back and kicked the fort in. The large branch that had supported the leaning, toppling over fort snapped and almost the entire place fell in. Only a couple of branches still stood. It echoed throughout the woods and I could feel the crash inside of me.

“What are you doing?” I turned around to Lavender who had just come out from behind a group of trees. Harrison must have gotten her to come. The woods were lit up only by the boys’ flashlights. Shadows of branches made Lavender look scary. And it was a pretty good portrayal of her at that moment. She stomped completely past me with her arms crossed.

For the second time (and not the last), I watched as she landed a perfect punch on David. His nose, this time. The only evidence of blood was the black dripping down his nose, down his lips, off his chin, onto the dirt below.

“That was my fort. And he’s my friend,” she spat, pointing at me. David grabbed his nose and, with his other hand, made an awful attempt at punching her. A complete miss. “Don’t you know you can’t hit girls?” One of the boys behind him ran off, and the others followed. Harrison sulked off in the opposite direction.

As I walked back to Lavender’s house with her once everyone had gone, I felt kind of like a wimp. After all, I hadn’t ever swung a single punch at David. Lavender had done all that fighting for me, leaving me bloodless. Not exactly the type of Jimi I thought I was.

I guess what I really was as a boy was a treehouse. Or a fort in the woods. Something people just sort of made for no reason at all, using it on weekends. Mostly, though, I was less of a fighter than Lavender was. Never threw that punch. Only took too many of them. Hardly stood up for the things I should have been breaking kids’ noses over.

When we reached the edge of the woods, she kissed my cheek. Only I blushed, though. Maybe she did it out of pity for me; we both knew I’d be teased about her for ages and the guilt I would feel for years for destroying her secret fort. Before we parted, she handed me my bike off of the ground.

“Thanks,” I said. Once I got on my bike, I balanced myself on my tiptoes and waved goodbye. She gave me a weak smile, wiped her bloody knuckles on the end of her skirt, and walked off towards her house.

#short story #mine #my art #my writing #writing #creative writing #2017

[thiamlife]

RIVALS AU IS HERE!

Okay friends, I have finally completed the first chapter of the rivals au idea that was brought to life by @formerprincess    Here is the post with the original idea 

Pretty please let me know what y’all think!!

Chapter 1: Flashbacks and Sticky Situations 

He turned the corner quickly and started to jog down the hallway to his first class. He had failed to wake up for the first three alarms that he had set and by the time he did actually wake up, he had 15 minutes to make it to the school and have his ass in his seat before he got yet another marked absence. Coach told him he was three away from being benched for a couple games, not that he wanted to intentionally sit his team captain, but principle Martin was giving him no choice in the matter. With his focus solely on getting to the classroom, he almost completely missed the small cluster of football boys standing against the lockers outside of the class door.

“Late again huh Dunbar? Wonder how that bench is gonna treat you this season.” He stopped mid stride at the sound of the taunting voice that made his heart jump just a little… not that he’d ever admit to the weird effect it had on him. Liam turned to scowl at the well-built captain of the football team and his little, well not actually little as most them were double his size, football buddies. Theo fucking Raeken: aka enemy number one. How Theo knew about his absences he had no clue and that only fueled his aggravation as he leveled a menacing glare at his rival feeling his blood start to boil.

The two had been at each other’s throats ever since they both became captain of their respective teams. It started with small comments and jokes about whose team was better and more popular, but somehow twisted into an all-out feud that had taken over the school. You were either team lacrosse or team football. The two of them were known to be the starters of the arguments that occasionally morphed into fights, the ones always behind the pranks, and everyone including teachers knew it was never a good idea to have them in the same room very long. It didn’t used to be that way, Liam and Theo had actually been really good friends until high school. Their moms were best friends so naturally they grew up together. But everything had changed the summer before freshman year.

Liam had just gotten diagnosed with his IED and was really upset so he went to Theo’s to play video games, take his mind off of it, and get a break from his mom treating him with kid gloves. Everything had been going fine, they were laughing and having fun, until they heard a crash downstairs. Leaving the game behind they both ran down there only to come face to face with Theo’s very drunk, very angry dad. “Ah there he is, the killer and his spastic friend.” Liam had flinched at the harsh words and looked over to Theo who looked mortified. Liam knew his sister Tara was always an off limits topic. She had died tragically and Theo had been there to witness the whole thing. And as if things couldn’t have gotten any worse, Theo’s mom left a year later. He knew his friend had felt that it was all his fault but now he could see why, his dad had put it in his head that it was. Liam suddenly felt himself getting very angry at the drunk adult that was supposed to be caring for Theo, not emotionally abusing him.

“Back off, John.” Liam growled stepping in front of Theo as if to protect him. John quickly pushed him to the side and went to grab Theo. He pushed him against the wall and Theo just looked down, ready for the sharp words that were about to be thrown his way.

“You just couldn’t stop at your sister could you? You had to go and ruin this whole family. You’re the reason she left. She couldn’t bear to look at you anymore. Neither can I, you’ll never be anything or do anything. All you’ll ever be is a little piece of shit.”

Liam saw red, and before he knew what he was doing he punched the son of bitch right in the jaw. He stumbled back, blood trickling from his lip, and then surged forward coming at him. Theo grabbed his dad quickly before he could get to Liam even though Liam was ready. His rage knowing no bounds, he wanted to beat the shit out him, he craved it. Theo yelled at him to leave and it took everything in him to turn and run towards the door.

They stopped speaking after that. Liam’s parents had received a call informing them that he was never to step foot in Theo’s house again. Liam tried to talk to Theo when he saw him next but the boy just sadly shook his head at him and continued walking down the street.

 “Theo, what does he look like when he snaps? Is it like the Hulk or does he zone out like a freak how he is right now.” Someone teased.

Tardiness and flashbacks forgotten, Liam snapped back to reality and refused to let the cocky assholes get to him and decided to knock Theo and his friends back down to earth. So he put a smug smile on his face matching the one he was receiving from Theo and met the hazel eyes looking down at him with his stormy blues. “At least we’re fun to watch. God I couldn’t imagine sitting through one of your games,” he cringed and then tilted his head to the side in mock confusion, “what was the score last week again? 45-3?”

He watched as Theo pushed off the lockers coming to stand right in front of him, jaw clenching, which Liam definitely didn’t pay attention to. Theo’s nostrils flared clearly trying to control his anger as he stared down at him due to the slight height difference. “That was one game.” Theo said through clenched teeth. Liam quirked his eyebrow tauntingly. 

“Yeah, one game every week.” He joked.  The football team wasn’t bad and Liam knew it but he couldn’t stop himself from pushing his competitor’s buttons. Secretly loving the reaction he got from Theo every time he was able to get under his skin. It was a good day when he could break through Theo’s icy demeanor, he felt accomplished. As if he was seeing a glimpse of the old, out of control Theo that used to be his friend.

“Easy Dunbar,” Theo growled at him and his friends stepped up closer silently backing their quarterback, “you might find yourself in a… sticky situation.” Theo’s teammates snorted.

Getting lost in the moment, glaring harshly into each other’s eyes and not saying a word, they both jumped in surprise when Coach Finstock’s voice boomed down the hallway. “LIAM!” Both Liam and Theo took a step back making the palpable tension in the air dissipate. Coach took the space for granted and inserted himself between Liam and the other captain. “Which part of the conversation that we had yesterday did you not understand? Get to class!” Liam shot one last glare at Theo before he turned towards the door to the classroom and quickly moved towards it. 

“Yeah run along like a good puppy.” He heard Theo snicker. But before he had a chance to voice a comeback Coach was on him.

“And you, you freakishly manly teenager. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” 

“Free period.” Liam could hear the smugness in Theo’s voice without even having to look at him.

“Then perhaps practicing an accurate pass route?” Coach shot back and it was Liam’s turn to laugh. He cut it off swiftly as all the players and coach snapped their heads to him. He ducked inside the classroom and quietly made it to his seat next to Mason.

“Nice of you to join us today Mr. Dunbar.” Mrs. Finch commented dryly making the class giggle and he put his head down trying to hide the blush that crept up his face. “Since you’re actually here, let’s make the most of your educational voyage. Please start reading the chapter on Cell Reproduction on page 54.” Liam blushed deeper as he reached in his bag only to come up empty handed. He had forgotten his book at home in his rush to get to school on time. Mason slowly sild his open book across the table in front of him, pointing to the spot where he needed to start reading, he looked over at his best friend and gave him an appreciative smile.

“Cell reproduction is the process by which…” he started with a sigh and kept reading through the words he didn’t understand until Mrs. Finch picked on someone else to start reading. Eventually the class was split into groups and made to look at some kind of cells under a microscope. Thankfully, he had Mason as his partner because he had no idea what in the hell he was supposed to be looking for. Mason tried to explain it to him but eventually just gave up in frustration at Liam’s lack of care for the subject and silently completed the assignment for the both them. 

The rest of the day went on much of the same way. Teachers droning on about topics that he had no interest in, and occasionally calling on him to answer a question but his mind was elsewhere. Even in history, his favorite subject, Liam couldn’t seem to care about what was being discussed. Theo’s words from early came back to him and he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more behind the initial threat. You might find yourself in a… sticky situation. The way Theo had said it, the way his eyes sparkled in silent laughter, and the way his teammates had laughed… something had been off. When the last bell finally rang, snapping him out of his thoughts, he leisurely stood up and collected his belongings before he made his way to the locker room to get changed for practice. Theo’s warning still echoing in his brain and it wasn’t until halfway through training when Theo’s ominous words finally had meaning.

Coach called for the first water break after a grueling 45 minutes of one-on-one drills. There was only one person to blame, Greenberg, he just couldn’t seem to get it right. So Coach made sure they did it over and over and over until it had finally set in. By the time they had finished, everyone was panting and slowly crawling towards the large water container on the side of the field. Two of the younger players went to rip their helmets off and groaned loudly as some of their hair was pulled along with it. A few more players tried it and had the same problem. After watching pretty much the whole team have their hair stuck in their helmet, Liam gently tried to pull at his but ended up just yanking it off as it seemed to hurt less the faster you went. Kind of like a Band-Aid, just rip it off.

Looking inside of the offending contraption that was his helmet and Liam saw the cause for all the pain. Clear double-sided adhesive tape. You might find yourself in a… sticky situation Theo’s voice popped in his head again. His head jerked up immediately looking across the lacrosse field to the neighboring football field and found Theo standing there with half of his team watching them struggle with wide smiles on their faces. He scrunched his face up in anger and threw his helmet to the ground. “THEO!” He thundered and took off running towards the pain in his ass ignoring Coach’s yell for him and the team to come back. When he reached the infuriating boy, Theo’s sweet voice almost sent him over the edge.

“You called? Trouble in lacrosse paradise?” Theo joked and wasn’t ready for the hard shove Liam gave him making him fall backwards into a few of his teammates. Before they knew it everyone was shoving someone from the opposite team and Liam and Theo had each other in headlocks. Coaches yelling and whistles blowing trying to get everyone to stop. Nearby students were filming every second of it and cheering for a particular person or team. Liam and Theo were finally hauled apart by two adults but were still trying to get to the other one to continue.

“This is far from over Dunbar!” Theo yelled as he was being carried backwards by one of his coaches.

Liam let out a humorless laugh. “You started a war, hope you’re ready.” He called out as one of his own coaches and an athletic trainer hauled him back to the lacrosse field. “This is just getting started.” He mumbled to himself and turned around to walk back to his field on his own.

#theo raeken #liam dunbar #fanfic #story #au #teen wolf #thiam

[tb5-heavenward]

flight hours

being a meditation on Scott, John, flying, and bad attitudes.

1

“This is a stupid exercise.”

“Yeah, well, if you weren’t such a shitty pilot, maybe it wouldn’t be.”

Airspace above and around Tracy Island is an internationally recognized no-fly zone, within a hemispherical radius of a solid hundred miles. This is something their dad worked incredibly hard to finagle, and it ensures the island’s safety and privacy, as well as guarantees a space for the Thunderbirds to be put through their paces, as is occasionally required for testing and training.

It’s the latter purpose that has Scott lingering at the upper border of the stratosphere, flirting with TB1’s altitude limit and cruising lazily around on autopilot. Today he’s the trainer rather than the trainee, and the afternoon’s endeavour is a combination of two of the things John’s worst at in the entire world: flying and the gracious acceptance of valid criticism.

The training in question is meant to take place in the midst of a mobile aerial course, designed by Brains, and made up of a suite of drones of assorted shapes and sizes. These can be remotely configured to represent various situations, and are meant to iterate upward through a series of complex levels, designed to test and train a pilot’s skills. Scott knows them inside and out, backwards and forwards, and can run courses designed for TB1 and for him flying solo with his jetpack, practically with his eyes closed. Flying Thunderbird Shadow, at least twice as aerobatic as any of the rest of the ‘birds, Kayo can do it with her eyes closed, because TBS can essentially take the course on autopilot. Beyond that, Scott regularly puts Alan and Gordon relentlessly through their paces, usually with the pair of them flying Pods A and B in tandem, laughing and whooping and relishing the challenge. Occasionally even Virgil will take TB2 through a modified version of the course, piloting the biggest of the Thunderbirds as though it’s a machine only half its considerable size.

Before now, John hasn’t had anything with which to fly the same course. But his Exosuit is meant to be a versatile piece of equipment, meant to be equally useful both in and out of the atmosphere. And while it was in development, John had dutifully gotten plenty of virtual experience, and once it was completed, he’d even logged a passable amount of time in zero-G, just jetting around in orbit, getting accustomed to the suit and its controls. But he’s only flown it once or twice, in atmo, with gravity. And as far as Scott’s concerned, that just won’t do.

So, training. A requisite minimum of a hundred flight hours, with Scott around for instruction and supervision. They’re about eight hours in. It could be going better.

His younger brother is taking a breather, perched on the small deck of one of the drones, with his wingspan folded and his long legs dangling over the edge of the platform. All Scott had done was clear his throat over the open radio channel, marking the end of what he’d considered to be a generous three minute break, and suggested that maybe John might want to get the next exercise started, with daylight beginning to fade from the South Pacific sky. And John had gotten snappish. And, losing patience with his brother, Scott had snapped right back.

Admittedly, Scott’s maybe not the softest touch or the best teacher in the world, and maybe he’s crossed a line, because there’s a frosty silence over the comm. And then—

“I am not,” John answers, and Scott could swear that the temperature inside his helmet actually drops a few degrees, “a shitty pilot.”

By Scott’s standards this isn’t true, but then, Scott’s standards are high enough to flirt with the upper border of the stratosphere. John can fly. John flies reasonably well. He could probably fly better. Still, Scott modulates his tone, though he needs to be very careful not to patronize his younger brother. “Well, okay, maybe that’s a little too harsh a term—but you have to admit, objectively, you are the worst pilot in the family. You’ve got the least experience out of the five of us. The six of us, if you include Kayo.”

“Objectively, you can blow it out your ass, Scott.”

The bad attitude is uncharacteristic, but then, they’ve been at this for hours now, and John gets frustrated when his efforts don’t result in tangible progress, and can’t seem to help taking criticism personally. Scott’s been pushing him pretty hard, finding something to correct with every attempt at every exercise. And he sighs, tries to remember the last time he had to deal with one of his brothers pitching a tantrum, thirty miles above sea level. Probably not since the last time he’d made Gordon and Alan race through the course, and Gordon had won on a technicality. “Buddy, you’re the one who wanted the Exosuit. Our tech has a learning curve, you know that. Just because you haven’t had to learn the ropes of a new piece of gear in a while doesn’t mean you’re suddenly exempt from putting in the damn work.”

“This is still a stupid exercise. I know how to fly my exosuit.”

“No, this is a necessary exercise. When you first got the damn thing, you didn’t even know which button to hit.”

“Shut up. My time is a lot more valuable than this.”

“Your time is only as valuable as the skillset that backs it up, and thus any time you spend training is necessarily time of value. And I think we both know that you could do to spend a bit more time training.”

“I spend plenty of time training!”

“Not in a non-virtual space, you don’t.”

“My sims are—”

“Not a patch on the real thing, and anyway they’re all coded for zero-G. You need proper training, and this is how we train in atmo.”

“You don’t know the first damn thing about my sims. And why the hell do we even have simulations, if they don’t actually count?”

“They’re fine for learning the theory. But they’re academic, they’re not experience.”

“Three hundred hours of sim time—”

“—is not the same as logging actual goddamn flight hours, John!”

“Yeah, well—”

“Boys.”

Their grandmother’s voice slices the channel in half, leaves the raggedy edges of static behind in its wake. Her sternness and moreover, her disappointment are enough to shut the both of them up, pretty much immediately. The abashed quality of the silence indicates that they’re both deeply ashamed to have been caught arguing. Grandma Tracy allows a few judgmental seconds to pass before she clears her throat, and continues, “We’ve got a medical distress call, a private cargo flight out of Auckland headed for Brisbane. The plane is in flight over the middle of the Coral Sea. Pilot is experiencing chest pains and shortness of breath, has no copilot, no other passengers or flight crew aboard. He’s requesting immediate assistance.”

Scott’s never exactly glad when a rescue crops up, but in this case it’s a welcome break from a stupid fight with his brother. And halfway between Auckland and Brisbane is the bit of the South Pacific that represents the equivalent of their backyard, at least as the Thunderbird flies. “FAB, Tracy Island. Thunderbird One responding,” he answers crisply, and even at distance, he can see that John’s already pulled himself back to his feet aboard the drone, reengaged his controls, and is about to hop off the platform. “Stay put, Thunderbird Five, I’ll fly by and pick you up.”

“Negative, Scott, don’t waste the time. We’re only fifteen klicks out, I can get back to the island on my own. Tracy Island, get me a line to EOS and TB5, I want to start running intel on this vessel and its status—”

Scott’s already pulled up alongside the floating platform, thumbed the switch to open his cargo bay. “Cancel, Tracy Island, have Gordon tag in to stay on the line with the pilot, forward us stats as relevant. John’s flying with me, I could use an extra set of hands. Time for some on the job training.”

There’s a brief silence from Tracy Island, as though Grandma Tracy is evaluating the probability that her boys will behave, with both their tempers already running high, and their patience running short with each other. “Thunderbird Five, confirm?”

There’s the very barest pause over the comm channel and then a terse, “FAB.”

Learning by doing is something Scott’s always believed in. There’s a hydraulic whine at his back as the cargo bay slides open, and then a throaty little burst of rocket fuel, as his brother arrives on board. As the cargo hatch closes, Scott calls over his shoulder. “Welcome aboard, Johnny. Pull up a seat.”

All he gets in answer is a faint grunt, as John’s exosuit powers down, the weight of it no longer self-supporting as the propulsion systems turn off. “You do realize I can’t actually get out of this thing?” he asks, as Scott starts to prepare to go to full throttle, checking and rechecking the telemetry as provided by Tracy Island.

“Well, I don’t know why you’d want to, you’re just gonna need to get right back into it. And on that note, you’re gonna wanna brace yourself,” Scott answers cheerfully, and jerks a thumb over his shoulder, vaguely in the direction of a couple anchor points at his back, “Our ETA is about six minutes. Get your sitrep from Gordon on the way.”

continued >>

#tag fanfic #scott tracy #john tracy #some kind of creative doubt #flight hours

[goatsandgangsters]

Okay so now it is time for The Thinky Thoughts About Actual Hamlet, rather than just The Encounter

tl;dr: the production was iNCREDIBLE, the entire cast was phenomenal, the staging was very interesting and they made a lot of cool choices, it was also one of the funniest productions of Hamlet I’ve ever seen and there were times when I laughed until my sides hurt, but also I wanted to cry very often too, my review is going to admittedly be Biased, but like I said, the entire cast was phenomenal

The entirety of the opening scene was done with all of the lights completely off, except for the occasional very, very dim spot on the ghost. This was repeated again when Hamlet tags along for the watch, and I thought it was a great lighting choice to have us literally in the dark

Regarding humorous touches, Anatol’s first line when he’s addressed is like... he’s just taken a sip of his drink and gets a very deer-in-headlights “I was called on by the teacher and I don’t know the answer” look and momentarily just kind of... freezes with panic. There was a lot of subtle humor and also humanizing.

They stripped away a lot of the nobility and the pomp from the characters and they seemed very un-artistocratic. It really centered it as a family drama, which I loved. Cladius also had such a wonderful skeeze factor to him, like he was more your gross drunk uncle than your well-bred aristocrat uncle

The “methinks I see my father” was hilarious, with horatio and co. freezing and turning in sync, completely panicked that they’re about to see the ghost again. the humor of that whole exchange was really fresh

huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurgh ophelia and laertes sibling feelings. they completely nailed the teasing sibling dynamic

also, um. so those jeans that he was wearing were... very tight. very, very tight. they were tighter than the skinny jeans I was wearing, let’s put it that way. and at one point he bent over directly in front of us and uh, wow. worth the price of admission just for that (a very talented actor but um, that was a bonus)

In general, I really love Polonius. He was bumbling and like Such a Dad, without seeming too incompetent? I think sometimes he can be too much of a buffoon and you’re left wondering why he’s been employed this long? And like, he was definitely a buffoon, but it was too much? That, or maybe my threshold for belief that absolute idiots can hold positions of political power has expanded

And as long as I’m on the subject, Ophelia was incredible. Easily my second-fave performance of everyone. She was very... solid? I feel like acting choices usually make Ophelia very delicate and waifish and fragile, but she felt like a snarky young girl who might be the protagonist of a coming of age indie movie about a snarky young girl making her way in indie new york, with like, a guitar or something. You know? Like, you never got the sense that she was a breakable wisp. She stress ate a lasagna on stage. She “nope”d the fuck out of her brother giving her The Sex Talk and rolled under a table to ignore him. #Relatable

Most of the cast doubled as the theatre troupe that comes for a visit, which was great for, you know, reasons. Reasons of your fave not fucking off to France for half the show

I won’t lie, there were definite times when I completely tuned out what was happening on stage in favor of watching Anatol just like... exist. His calves, man. His calves are mighty and sculpted. He was moving furniture during one scene and I have no idea what anyone said. I cannot express to you how tight these jeans were

Keegan-Michael Key doing the prologue of the play-within-a-play was the honest to god funniest thing I’ve ever seen. It was just five straight minutes of him making odd noises and gesticulating wildly. I laughed until my face hurt. I laughed until my sides ached. I cannot remember the last time I laughed that hard. And this is not something I usually say about a production of Hamlet

My favorite part about this though was that I get the sense he may have gone on longer than usual? Because when he started it, the cast was relatively composed, and then even they started to lose it. Like there was a definite shift where like... he was done but then oH NO HE WAS NOT DONE and you could tell suddenly that the whole cast was struggling to keep their shit together. anatol went from stoic, to hand over his mouth with telltale eyebrows raised so you knew he was smiling, to honest to god covering his entire face with his hand

Oh, going backwards a little bit, Oscar Isaac was very frequently in his underwear and stabbed a poor defenseless lasagna to death. It was not honestly as bad as what the cryptic tweets about it made it seem. Unless he decided to scale back that night, but he only stabbed it to death. But yeah, I have... seen more of him than perhaps I cared to see, if I’m honest

So, okay, not to make it seem like Oscar Isaac wasn’t amazing, because he was absolutely amazing, but this was the first production of Hamlet that really seemed like it was about the ensemble. Everything else I’ve seen has always been Hamlet centered, with everything else always seeming to orbit him (which, you know, he is the title), but this was very much... I really felt like this was as much about everyone else as it was about him. All in all, it was just such a stellar cast

The scene with Hamlet joking about Polonius’s dead body is hilarious no matter what, but it’s even better when he literally kicks someone out of their front row seat to throw Polonius into it and hide him under a playbill (there was, on the whole, a lot of audience engagement)

SPEAKING OF POLONIUS, dear god I feel bad for this guy. and for whoever has to clean the theatre after every show. BEARING IN MIND THAT THE STAGE IS CARPETED, the poor guy is lying dead on the ground, while Ophelia drags in two giant plants from the lobby of the theatre, yanks out the plant, and dumps two giant things of dirt on him. and then arranges the flowers on his face.

which, getting ahead of myself here, but instead of having an off-stage death, she hauls an actual working hose on stage, completely drenches herself, places the hose on the mound of dirt that is Polonius, WHICH IS NOW  QUICKLY BECOMING A RIVER OF MUD ON THE CARPETED FLOOR, and then she lies down next to him to also die in the mud and the flowers, which was visually very powerful, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about how uncomfortable it must be to lie on stage covered in mud

but yeah, backtracking a bit. the BELLOWING ROAR OF “WHERE IS THIS KING” from off-stage as Anatol comes charging on and immediately runs at Claudius with a butcher knife. mm boy.

contrasted with the only moment in the play where I actually did cry, which was the piteous way that he crumpled upon hearing of Ophelia’s death. hhhhhhhrgh

I’m not sure whether it was hilarious or painful that Polonius and Ophelia played the gravediggers. I mean they WERE hilarious and that scene was so excellent, but also like. ouch. harsh. way harsh. way to pour mud in the wounds. (there was so much mud on this poor carpet)

Hamlet and Horatio were chilling in the audience for this scene. I’m pretty sure Keegan was on some woman’s lap.

and now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for, kICK HIS ASS TINY LAERTES!!!!!!!!!!!! and that’s the story of how I watched anatol (in very tight jeans) tackle oscar isaac to the ground and choke the fuck out of him in a giant pool of actual mud. oscar isaac’s face was actually turning red, I could see the tendons in anatol’s hands, and I was honestly a little concerned

anyway then Hamlet like... talked about himself or some shit while cuddling Ophelia’s dead body, but I was honestly paying more attention to Claudius and Horatio, who were still wrestling with Anatol in the mud. #filthy #noliterally

uUUMMMM WHAT ELSE WHAT ELSE well, okay, at that point. I kind of feel like I had already ascended onto another plane of existence, such was The Strength of that entire scene, between Polonius and Ophelia being hilarious gravediggers, the clever wordplay (and oh, the irony, of Polonius now being the one to best Hamlet in contest of words and wits), between me being in agony about brokenhearted and enraged Laertes, between Professional Mud Wrestling Smackdown ... what more could I possibly need in my life?

but yeah, then anatol and oscar isaac beat each other up in full fencing gear

then everyone was dead

me included

just drag my body on stage and throw it in with the rest of the carnage (and mud) because I am dead. completely dead. consider my mortal coil completely shuffled off. 

everyone was incredible, the choices they made were incredible, anatol’s jeans were incredible, the double casting was very deliberate and drew a lot of interesting parallels (the hecuba speech and laertes in general as foils for hamlet, by the same actor; polonius finally outwitting hamlet; and of course claudius as claudius and his brother goes without saying)

it was funny, it was moving, it was fresh, it was creative, it was stellar, it was very muddy

#this is REALLY LONG sorry but. I have a lot to say and also hamlet... is long #even though it absolutely DID NOT feel long at all #those were the fastest three and a half hours of my life #hamlet weekend

[ryik-the-writer]

Rumbelle fic: A Sitting Deal

A Sitting Deal 5/6

A03 Link

Rating: T+

Summary: With the threat of a rent increase being held over her head, Lacey E. French makes a deal with Mr. Gold to babysit his three-year-old son. Soon however the town troublemaker finds herself getting close to her landlord and son…which just can’t be good!

Note: for my Rumbelle Secret Santa recipient…@of-princes-and-savages, based off the prompt: Hey, who’s kid is this

“Hi…” Lacey croaked as her face flamed. “You’re back early.”

“I closed the shop early to bring you lunch,” Gold said as he stepped forward, a strange half-smile on his face. “What are you…”

“Nothing!” Lacey defended, putting a good foot between her and the fluffy toddler who had somehow broken down all her defenses. She rushed past him to the hall bath, splashing her face with the icy water in hopes of drawling out her senses.

“Get a grip Lace!” she chided, slapping the sides of her head. “You can’t get attached to someone else’s kid—or to them for that matter—geez!” she patted her cheeks with a soft towel and willed the thoughts away.

This is just a job. This is just a job. This is just a job.

She continued to mutter under her breath as she eased out of the bathroom. Gold already had Bae in his highchair with a diced-up eggroll.

“Are you well?” Gold inquired.

“Yeah, just…the heat,” Lacey shrugged off, taking a place on the other side of the counter. “Yum, Chinese,”

They passed the cartons around and prepared their plates. To her absolute shock, Gold turned around and brought out a bottle of red wine.

“It’s barely five,” Lacey pointed out with a wide grin.

“Well, you seemed like you needed to relax,” he said as he passed her a barely filled glass. “Mind yourself though. I’m still ambient about the no alcohol rule.”

“Noted,” Lacey said as she gulped down her wine.

They ate quietly for a while, occasionally refilling their glasses (which Gold monitored and controlled).

Now in better spirits, Lacey spared a glance at Bae, a smile tugging at her cheeks.

“He looks just like you,” Lacey commented. “You sure you didn’t just spit him out?”

Gold scoffed. “I wish that had been the case.”

“Oh, juicy backstory,” Lacey winked.

“No,” Gold denied.

“Come on!” Lacey whined.

“It’s really not any of your business Miss French,” Gold warned, though the wine had dulled his snark.

“Look,” Lacey countered. “I suck at lying. So one day if I’m playing dinosaurs or some crap with Bae and he suddenly asks me about his mom, what do you expect me to tell him?”

She and Gold stared at each other for a moment, and Lacey twitched at the way Gold was gawking.

“You’d really want to be around her that long?” Gold questioned.

Lacey felt a cold shudder run up her spine. Had she really just envisioned that?

“I’m being hypothetical,” she added quickly to cover herself.

Gold’s lip twitch, and she could see the ‘yeah right’ look on his face.

“Very well Miss French,” Gold sighed in false defeat. “But this stays between us,”

“Agreed,” Lacey nodded as he topped off her wine.

He relayed the story of how his marriage was embarrassingly short-lived, and how he and his wife had been unable to tolerate each other during its short course. He added on about how she left with a lover and Gold thought that would be it.

Lacey felt an uneasy drop in her gut as Gold’s face changed at the memory. This was hurtful for him, to have such a scab from his past peeled off so abruptly.

But she didn’t stop him, nor did he stop himself.

“Then I got a call from the sheriff’s station one night,” Gold continued. “It turns out Milah left with a lot more than just a portion of my bank account, and she was returning what she didn’t want,”

“Bae,” Lacey breathed, glancing at the stained boy.

“Indeed,” Gold nodded as he sipped on his wine.

Lacey tried to wrap her head around the idea of a mother just dropping off her kid. Her own mom had been mother of the year even when she was sick. How could someone raise there kid for a few years and then just toss them away?

“Any follow-ups?” Lacey inquired.

“I didn’t think there was a need for one,” Gold confided. “She gave me my son. I’m counting myself lucky.”

Lacey nodded. She could have left him anywhere, but she made sure that he went to someone who would love him unwarrantedly.

“So on the day you and Bae are playing with dinosaurs and he asks about his mum, you’ll know what to say,” Gold teased passively.

Lacey lifted her glass in a salute, “You got it.” Her joking nature kept the mood light, but Lacey felt a great sense of dread over Gold’s story. Was that why Bae was clinging to her so? Did he just miss his mama and somehow connected her with the other woman?

Gold moved around the counter to help Baelfire down from his chair, the boy fussing when Gold took a wet rag to clean off his face and hands.

“So what of you?” Gold inquired when Bae bounded off to the living room.

“Sorry, no vindictive ex-wives for me,” Lacey winked.

“I assumed,” Gold countered. “I shared a shred of my past, I’d like to hear one of yours.”

Lacey tapped her nails on the counter, uneasiness setting in. “I don’t really have interesting stories,”

“Of course you do,” Gold encouraged. “You’re an intelligent woman, why did you stay in Storybrooke?”

Lacey scoffed. “Where else would I go?”

“Anywhere you want,” Gold countered. “You must have wanted to go elsewhere once,”

Lacey thought about Belle with her brave smiles and wide-eyed sense of wonder.

“Well,” Lacey gulped. “There was a time when…” she sighed, shaking her head at her more youthful self. “I wanted to be a probation officer,”

She waited for the scoff. Lacey French on the right side of the law? Pure fiction!

But Gold only nodded, his eyes light with wonder. “Why didn’t you?”

Lacey shrugged, recalling the day her barely existent plan burnt to ash.

Literally.

“My mum died when Belle and I were thirteen,” Lacey relayed, the memory of the kindly sick woman barely registering a sprig of sadness within her.

“She left us a little bit of money. Not much but just enough that we could go to the least expensive colleges in Maine. But dad grieved hard and swindled the majority of it,”

“That explains why he never pays his rent in full,” Gold muttered.

“By the time we were sending out applications, there was only enough for one of us to go,” Lacey gripped the glass. “Belle got accepted to her fist choice, and we just had enough of mum’s money left to spread over the next four years.”

“But what of you?” Gold pressed.

Lacey closed her eyes. She could have easily lied, said she hadn’t been ready to grow up, that she thought college was for people who wanted to rot in cubical and stressed over things like board meetings and signing the head secretary’s birthday card.

“Truth is,” Lacey began. “I…got accepted to a tech school an hour outside of Storybrooke. It was a third of the price for Belle’s school, and would have taken less time to get my degree.”

Gold smiled. Lacey had a dream once, and a way to accomplish it.

“But,” Lacey shrugged, her expression dull. “Belle…wanted it so bad,” she licked her lips. “She was always destined to leave this place, to be better than…”

Gold stilled when he saw her lip tremble, his fingers twitching to comfort her.

With a broken sigh she reached out and grabbed the bottle and took a short swig, just enough to burn her throat. Gold looked uneasy but did not stop her.

“Anyway,” she gasped, slamming the bottle on the counter. “I tore up my acceptance letter and Belle was none the wiser. I got shit from half the town about how I was a waste if I couldn’t get into a tech school and took up pool as a hobby.”

“Lacey I’m so sorry,” Gold said sorrowfully.

Lacey tapped on her glass, the burns her father, teachers, and everyone else who had two cents had given her still raw. Only Belle had spared her, giving her sister her blessing to live her life to her own accord. Ignorant of the sacrifice that her twin had made.

Although Lacey felt that her twin knew deep down. She had to, didn’t she?

“It is what it is,” Lacey laughed. “And at least I got a job with the richest man in town.”

“I’ll cheer to that,” Gold smiled, clinking his glass with hers as they finished off the bottle.

“You know, you’re a classy guy Mr. Gold,” Lacey said. “Not really who I thought you were.”

“Oh really,” Gold husked.

“Yep,” Lacey smirked. “You’re a decent bloke, good listener, great taste in wine,” she glanced back at Bae who was stacking blocks on top of a firetruck. “And a decent pop to boot,”

“You’re not who I thought you were either,” Gold agreed. “You’re witty, and surprisingly good with children,”

“Whoa!” Lacey protested, poking Gold in the chest. “Let’s not go that far. I’m good with your kid. Throw anyone else’s in there and I crash and burn.”

“You might be surprised,” Gold pointed out, his hand wrapping around the one digging into his chest. “You’re so much more capable than you know,”

Lacey stared at the hand just kissing her own, so unaccustomed to anything but harsh grabs from irritated drunks that the sweet touch seemed almost like a joke.

But Gold’s expression was anything but lighthearted. In fact when Lacey met his eyes again she found him looking at her like she had just took a bullet for him.

“W…what?” Lacey gulped, thankful her high tolerance for alcohol had prevented her from becoming too lightheaded.

“I…” he began to answer, but the words seemed to leave him. He had yet to let go of her hand.

Lacey didn’t react when he stepped closer. Usually she’d be on edge if anyone got within a foot of her, but with Gold it felt too familiar, comfortable even. Like she was with another version of herself.

Thus, when Gold began inching closer, his lips just hovering over hers, she didn’t feel the need to conk him upside the jaw and bail. It was so odd, these feelings that had surfaced since she’d agreed to all this. The confusion and bordering disgust she had felt was melting into something she couldn’t describe, or really want to.

Lacey French went with the flow, after all.

Just as acceptance for what was to come washed over hers, a loud crash reminded her that this wasn’t just about her and Gold; there was a third party to consider.

The couple shot around to find that Baelfire had knocked his tower of blocks down, the action having startled him to tears.

“Oh Bae,” Gold soothed as he limped to pick up the little boy. “It’s okay son, it’s okay.”

Lacey took the lapse to compose herself and try to solve this great mystery before her. She had just tried to kiss Mr. Gold. Her landlord and now technically boss. The father of the charge that she had somehow developed a strange protective instinct for.

She turned to stare at the loving duo as Gold eased Bae out of his hiccups. The little boy laid his head on his father’s shoulder, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. Lacey gasped lightly: she had forgotten to put him down for a nap today.

In that moment all the building happiness and control Lacey had felt the last few days collapsed just as easily as Bae’s block tower.

What was she doing? This wasn’t the life for her! She couldn’t be a romantic partner and a mother figure! She was Lacey E. French. The town troublemaker. She drank too much, was careless, and was too afraid to follow her own dream.

Her eyes stung with kept tears as she felt aimlessly for her jacket. She didn’t belong here. She couldn’t belong here.

“Lacey?” Gold inquired when he saw how pale she had become.

“I’m sorry,” Lacey sobbed. “This was a mistake.”

“Lacey wait!” Gold called after her as she sped out the door, jostling Bae from the effort.

The door slammed before he could catch up to her, leaving him woefully lost. Thankfully Bae had drifted off to sleep in the commotion, completely unaware with just how dejected his Papa felt.

#rumbelle christmas in july #rumbelle christmas in july 2019 #rcij #rcij 2019 #of-princes-and-savages #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #golden lace #baelfire #lacey #lacey french #mr. gold #ryik's fics