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shiorimia · 1 year

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Team Star's Bullying: Reimagined

So I finished SV and while I LOVE Team Star, their backstories were lacking IMO. Bullying playing a huge role in how they became friends was a great idea, because it’s so relatable! But the game’s reasons for them being targeted basically amounted to “they were bullied because THEY WERE TOO COOL 😎” which was hard to take seriously...

SO I wrote my own ideas for why each Team Star member was targeted at the academy! Enjoy-

(CW for mentioned bullying and homophobia)

Canonically, Mela was bullied for…being too cute? I’ll expand on that.

Mela is a very pretty girl, even without any makeup. Her natural beauty and (at the time) soft demeanor caught the negative attention of a clique of girls, and they pretended to be her friends.

Mela eventually told them that she was actually bisexual (having a preference for girls), thinking she was in safe company. The clique IMMEDIATELY spread this private info around in a negative light, claiming that Mela pushed herself on one of the girls. Mela got in trouble and she felt complete betrayal and heartbreak over the actions of her so-called “friends”, who had just wanted dirt on her.

The bullying and gossip that resulted from this situation caused Mela to completely close down, steel her heart, and keep others at arms-length with fiery threats and emotional glares. She underwent a complete transformation in order to protect herself from being hurt again.

Giacomo actually used to be somewhat of a bully himself, in an attempt to fit in with the other students. He would taunt and goad others to impress his shitty ex-friends.

He ended up becoming the scapegoat when one of the bullying victims had a breakdown, and all of his friends pinned the blame on him when the teachers interrogated them. After this, he was quickly shunned at the academy and was surrounded by rumors and gossip.

Experiencing the effects of bullying firsthand made Giacomo realize what an asshole he'd been, and that his old 'friends' weren't so cool after all. He still feels immense guilt for the things he did in the past, and works to make up for it by being overly protective of Team Star.

Seriously, he will NOT hesitate to throw fists. He will beat someone up in a denny's parking lot just for them.

Ortega is, obviously, on the feminine side and very short. (which is apparently a huge deal for men…) He quickly became a target for being "girly", short, not masculine enough, and rumors that he was gay spread like wildfire. Ortega's love of fancy outfits only added fuel to the fire.

This made him extremely self-conscious about his identity and his appearance, and caused him to develop a short temper around others. Despite his fuse and tendency to lash out verbally, Ortega doesn’t actually like initiating physical fights; they make him anxious and scared from past experiences. He relies on his silver tongue to shut down jerks.

Ortega often bottles up his emotions and puts on a smug facade, because he believes he has no right to complain or feel upset, considering his wealthy upbringing. While Ortega still has a bratty attitude with the rest of Team Star, he's much softer around them and cares about them….though he’s too embarrassed to admit it.

Eri's bullying involved her body. Society is incredibly harsh on girls who don't fit the "mold", so to speak. Girls are expected to be short, soft and skinny, otherwise you're immediately outcast. Eri, being big-boned and much taller and more muscular than most girls, was the target of many vulgar and gross comments.

Eri, despite what others thought, DID take these insults to heart. She had always been a caring, motherly person, and was sad to see that this is what others thought of her behind her back. She dealt with these feelings through Pokemon battling and training herself until she was too tired to think.

Despite her intimidating aura/stature, Eri does not like to participate in violence unless absolutely necessary. She knows her own strength, and doesn’t like hurting others. She will not be taunted into a fistfight by some random student, as she KNOWS they’re goading her. However, if someone lays a hand on one of her friends, she will not hesitate to fling them into a wall.

Atticus was always an odd person who stood out. His interests were unique, even as a child. Being neurodivergent, the way he expressed himself and communicated was different. Having a love for art and fashion, Atticus was drawn to the more unique and unsettling themes in the industry. He loved to wear makeup considered "creepy" and wear outlandish, fantasy-like outfits.

He was immediately known as "the weirdo/freak" and was avoided, amongst rumors that he acted creepy towards other students and claims that he followed people around like a stalker. None of which was true, but still resulted in Atticus being alone. He didn't particularly mind…really.

Much like Ortega, Atticus dislikes physical fights. He knows his limits and capabilities. Why bother punching someone when you could recite poems on how pathetic and slimy they are? Or point out how ugly their haircut is?

#pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #team star #pokemon mela #pokemon giacomo #pokemon ortega #pokemon eri #pokemon atticus #bullying cw #homophobia cw #pokemon headcanons

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gabriel-xander · 1 month

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Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

1: Welcome to the Underground (How Was the Fall?)

♪───✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

All you do is stare up at the small, small circle of light above you. Your breathing is slow and steady, and one of your hands is on your stomach right underneath your titties. The other is resting down on the ground, softly feeling the large, yellow flower petals beneath you that had broken your fall. You honestly don’t know how long you’ve been lying there. You can’t bring yourself to get up either. You feel… so peaceful.

It’s a little chilly here, but not so much that it makes you want to bundle up, but cool enough that it’s pleasant. Honestly, you’re tempted to close your eyes and take a nap right where you are. The only reason that you don’t is because this is not a normal situation you have found yourself in. That, and the throbbing pain of your right leg that is slowly bleeding out onto the gold flowers (though it was not lethal that you had to be seriously concerned).

Well, actually. This is not the weirdest thing you’ve experienced before. There was this one time you got stabbed as a prank when you were seventeen, but you tried not to think about it too hard. Mainly because you also stabbed that punk back but that was six years ago! No use in dwelling in what once was.

Still.

Somehow falling into a dark Chasm at the top of the mountain? That somehow beats that time you fought God (your parole officer) in the Denny’s parking lot. Is this your attempt to repress the seriousness of this situation with humor?

Yes.

Because you don’t fucking know what the hell happened that ended you up in this situation.

──

You fix your dress and scrunch up your nose at your reflection, trying and failing to pose in the comfort of your bedroom inside your apartment. It’s not… typically something you would wear regularly. Still, your friend, Elliot, had gifted it to you for your birthday not too long ago, so you might as well use it now. He’s a friend you made in your second year of University, and you two have been pretty close since.

If you were honest with yourself, you would’ve NEVER thought you could make it to where you are now. You’re currently in your last year at Northern Arizona University, and applying to get accepted into a graduate school. You’re almost done with the last year to get your bachelor's degree in Biology, and the last semester is just around the corner. You went to community college at eighteen for two years but afterward took a year off before attending University for the next two years.

It’s a little unorthodox, but it’s much cheaper and better pacing for yourself. After all, you know that getting your doctorate’s is going to kick your fucking ass. You’re not in a rush for that crap, so no, you have no issue with taking your time. Doing all this just to be a surgeon is a lot of work! If your dad had taught you anything, it is to take a break when things start to get too much. There’s no use in stressing yourself out too much to the point of self-destruction, after all.

Anyway, you met Elliot when taking an elective and were sitting next to each other in class. He was a little shy at first, but when he realized you were just as mentally ill as he was, you two got along great. As you two kept hanging out, naturally you’d adopt certain habits from each other.

For example: his fashion taste.

The dress he picked out for you is more “cozy, mid-autumn weather” core than your usual “I am surviving off of cocaine and ecstasy but I’m trying to look good” core, you know? It’s not bad, by all means. You’re sporting a light and dark brown striped dress that hangs a bit close to your figure with the skirt stopping mid-thigh. The sleeves were very short and only covered your shoulders and the neckline was low and round, so you wore a white, button-up shirt underneath it. You would’ve gone full white woman’s Instagram and put on some panty-hoes as well, but Arizona weather is the fucking worst. You knew that it would get hot later even though it was nearing the end of December (in the year 201X), so you ditched the panty-hose and slipped on black ankle boots.

Look at you, so fucking fancy. University life is turning you into a bad bitch who drinks coffee from Dutch Bros and looks out the window so you can seem mysterious and sexy.

You nod at your reflection, looking around your room for a moment to find your small, crossbody purse. Making sure you have everything you need in that bag, you leave swiftly without looking back.

──────

Elliot… had gone ahead before you!!! You just got off the phone with the guy and he had gone up the mountain while waiting for you!

You’ll admit that you were running late by 30 minutes, but only because you grabbed a drink from the store for you both! Granted you drank both of the cold drinks during the ride because you got lost in thought-

Anyway! It’s not unusual for Elliot to go on ahead of you sometimes whether on purpose or accident. You don’t take it personally, you just need to catch up with him. You put your phone in your purse and sled it on before leaving the car. Your poor, poor car. It’s going to break down eventually, you just know it. It’s been through way too much shit, but she’s still running.

You begin walking up the faded trail, definitely a legal and legitimate trail, and not one that you and Elliot made for yourselves because you guys know a good spot up the mountain that is off-limits. Still, you never actually went up the mountain alone before, it was always with Elliot–you never had to really pay attention to where you were going.

This is not falling in your favor at the moment.

It doesn’t help that the sun was rapidly setting already even though it’s only a little after 5 pm. You swear you’re not dumb, your intelligence is just a fucking roller coaster: sometimes it’s REALLY high, and other times it’s embarrassingly low. Not waiting for Elliot to come back down the mountain so he could walk with you back up the mountain is certainly one of your dumber moves in the book.

Not as dumb as that one time you challenged the bouncer at a club to a dance battle to let you in because you forgot your ID at home and couldn’t prove you were 22. No, no, no. You have a full arsenal of moronic things you’ve done in the past. (Spoilers: you did NOT win that dance battle.)

You don’t know how long you’ve been walking up the mountain. You lost the faint trail a while ago and had pulled out your phone’s flashlight to light your way and not trip and eat shit.

“I fucking hate it here…!” You grumble under your breath, “This is the last time I go out on a school night.”

You raise up your flashlight and stop walking. You’re… You seem to be a lot higher than you originally thought. You’re definitely not where you should be. You’re not a professional hiker, or someone who is knowledgeable in nature and crap. But you’ve learned enough to see signs of anything walking through an area, or man-made tracks via the dirt or on the trees. This place hasn’t been touched in a long time.

You turn on your phone to call Elliot, but you don’t have any bars or a signal. Shit. This might be a good time to go back down, but… Ah, you’re a little excited to see where this adventure takes you! You know the ins and outs of this city, and you rarely explore outside the mountainside you and Elliot frequent. You’re going to feel bad about it, but you’re sure Elliot will be fine waiting for you a little longer as you explore this side.

The air is getting colder now, you must’ve misunderstood the weather for today since it’s not usually this cold at this time. Your legs, your beautiful legs, are beginning to feel the consequences of you not wearing an extra layer of clothes. You don’t know how long you’ve been going up, but it was, surprisingly, not as tiring as you thought it would be. You didn’t realize you’d reached the top until the light from the moon was brighter than your phone. You put it back in your purse, smiling and taking a deep breath.

No, this isn’t the very top of the mountain, but a particular summit on this uncharted trail. You notice a strange, large something a few meters from you, but you decide to keep away from it because you’re not white like that. You still want that break though, so you remove your purse from your person and set it down. You lay down on the green grass, staring up at the beautiful stars.

You start humming to yourself, feeling comfortable enough to do so since there shouldn’t be anyone for miles.

“LA la LA laaa,” You grin to yourself, thinking how awkward it’d be if someone was listening, “LA la LA la… La… la. La LA la. LA… La… laaa.”

You keep repeating the same tune, not musically talented enough to make up your own song other than a simple “la-la-la” tune. It’s so peaceful out here, that you kind of wonder if you’re able to take a quick nap-

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

A thorny vine wraps around your right ankle, spiraling up to your calf and digging into your skin to make you bleed.

You’re being dragged by the leg.

“WHAT THE–NO, NO, NO!!”

You dig your fingers into the dirt and grass, trying to grab anything and everything. You’re trying to pull yourself free and resist, you barely managed to reach the straps of your bag and thwack your bag on the vines. Damn you for leaving your knife in the glove department of your car!

As if taking that personally, the vines thicken and tighten around your leg and TUGS you violently.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Your grip on your purse weakens and you let it go by accident, and the pain is so sudden that you can’t muster the strength to resist anymore. Apparently, that was all the vines needed to drag you closer to the strange something on the ground that you were purposely trying to stay away from. Now that you’re being forced closer to it, you can see that it’s a hugE FUCKING HOLE!

“NO, NO, NO, NO!! STOP, STOP, STOP!!”

The thorny vines do not listen to you, however, because they are vines.

“PLEASE, I SWEAR I’LL FINALLY GO TO CHURCH!!”

Your desperation grows stronger when you can feel your legs begin to hang off an edge–entering the dark pit of this summit. Your own weight is pulling you down and adrenaline is the only reason why you’re able to clutch to the edge of the crater with all your might to not fall-

The vines YANK your right leg, and you fall, down, down, down into the dark hollow of the mountain.

──

“Haa… Ha…”

Your breathing had only just slowed down, and so did your adrenaline. Your voice is soft and meek as if you’re scared to break the silence.

“Ah… What… What the hell just happened…?”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve already thought you were completely, royally, and utterly fucked.

#fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #undertale #sans undertale #sans x reader #Don't Forget Fanfiction

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showfallfoodcourtemployee · 9 months

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[Transcript Begin.]

[The video begins with two people running across a desolate parking lot. The camera shakes, never focusing on one target. Through the moving video, one individual is visible, the other holding the camera and sometimes showing their own footsteps. Heavy breathing is heard through the other small sounds such as clothes ruffling, footsteps, or accessories hitting against each other.]

Tom: Stupid brat all she had to do was listen.

[The video zooms in on the man, a cigarette lit in his hand, He soon releases a puff of smoke before the two individuals get closer.]

T: Can I help you two?

Madeline: Yeah, yeah! I have one question.

T: And what is that? I'm on break, so hurry up.

M: Yeah, so, why don’t you want your child to be happy?

T: Let me guess you know Mari… Let me tell you something. I want her to be happy, that's why I'm doing this.

M: You used ‘her,’ you do know your own child’s pronouns, don’t you?

T: Yes, she/her, the pronouns chosen for her at birth. Why don't you fuck off?

M: I’ll give you one last chance, mister.

T: Buzz off, you weirdo.

M: You asked for it.

[Madeline cracks her knuckles, then lands a punch straight into Tom’s face.]

T: YOU LITTLE!

[Tom attempts to punch back, but misses due to the pain.]

M: Crazy how you can’t hit a 17 year old. Come on, I have less experience than you!

T: SHUT UP YOU BRAT!

[Tom attempts to punch again, he hits the air.]

M: You’re all bark no bite are you? Try harder!

T: STUPID KID!

[Tom throws a third punch, He hits Madeline in the arm.]

M:You couldn’t aim a little higher?

[Tom tries to slap Madeline, he misses. Madeline then counters by kicking him in the stomach.]

[A crash is heard from behind as someone smashes in a window nearby, the person climbs in and falls to the floor with little to no grace.]

T: WHO JUST BROKE A WINDOW?

M: Getting robbed and beat up? Skill issue.

Edgar: I’m not here to fucking rob you, not like I would, this place is ass!

T: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

E: Doesn’t matter, I have a crowbar, dickhead!

M: No but actually, who are you?

[Edgar lifts his left hand and opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it and just points at his hand instead.]

M: Oh! Hi Edgar!

T: So, your name is Edgar? Let me guess, another one of Mari's friends?

E: You could say that, yeah. Anyway, uh. Who’s winning?

T: DOESN'T MATTER!

[Tom attempts to punch Edgar, but he misses again.]

E: You’re really bad at punching people.

[Edgar swings his crowbar at Tom, it connects with his ribs, causing him to hunch over.]

T: Damnit! y'know if you kill me… Mari won't have any parents.

M: They don’t need your good for nothing ass!

E: Also, isn’t it your fault they don’t have a mom? They mentioned that at the Denny’s.

T: That bitch was gonna let Mari live in her own stupidity. I had no choice!

M: All I'm hearing is Blah..Blah..Blah. No choice? What does that even mean?

E: There’s always a choice. You just didn’t want to consider the other one.

T: I WASN'T GONNA LOSE MY DAUGHTER TO SOME STUPID PERSON!

M: Damn.. Guess we have to kill you now! You had a chance.

T: She’s crazy, why would I let my daughter date someone who doesn't have enough brain cells to understand how not to get kidnapped, let alone that you can't change gender.

[Edgar laughs, and takes a step towards Tom.]

E: I’m getting real tired of hearing you talk, Tom.

T: Same here, jerk.

E: Just call me a bitch, dude, this isn’t a children’s show. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.

T: How about you go die with that sarah kid then you bitch, lord knows if Mari lost two people she cared about maybe she would finally come home.

E: Tom, Mari tried to throw themselves off a bridge after your little chat in the Denny’s. If they lost anyone else, you’d lose them forever.

T: Whoever stopped her should have let her jump. That brat is dead to me.

M: What the fuck is wrong with you.

E: Well, they’re dead to you, big whoop. Guess what? You’re just dead.

[Edgar swings the crowbar at Tom’s neck, there is a sickening crack! As Tom’s neck snaps, and he falls limp to the floor.]

M: Oh shit..

E: Oops. Uh, okay, what now…

Olive: Skill issue!

M: Let’s leave him bleeding out! Just like, clear evidence or something!!

E: I’ll put a few pieces of glass near him, maybe… Wait, put that rock next to him as well.

M: Alrighty then.

[Madeline places the rock next to Tom's head while giggling. They then pick up a couple of shards of glass and shove them into Tom’s neck, leaving some around the body as well.]

E: Now it looks like an accident. We should probably skedaddle.

M: You just killed someone and you say skedaddle? Corny ass..

E: Well, what other words am I supposed to use?

M: Leave? Get out? Anything other than skedaddle?

E: It sounds better.

M: Okay bro. I'm surprised you didn’t call me homeskillet yet.

E: I completely forgot about that… I still could, honestly.

M: Don’t.

[Edgar chuckles, hesitating before speaking again.]

E: Whatever you say, homeskillet!

[Madeline groans, and puts her hands onto her face, throwing her head back as well.]

E: Well. Um. We probably should leave before someone reports this.

M: Alright. We’re going to go get drinks.

E: I would say you’re too young for that, but I just killed someone, so it would be a bit hypocritical to tell you that underaged drinking is against the law.

M: Exactly, alright, let’s head out. For real this time.

E: Alright, see you later. I guess.

M: See ya!

[Transcript end.]

#showfall ask blog #encoreverse blog #Zamn olive was silent😞they were with us in spirit

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daveinediting · 2 years

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Okay so it's tonight.

Each team gets its marching orders and writers all over the city get to work.

Me, I'm still working myself into a particular headspace to help me best manifest a horror film through shot choice, sequencing, pacing, color grading, and sound design.

Pacing, believe it or not, has got most of my attention so far. Gimme a few graphs and I'll tell you why...

You see yesterday I took a trip down memory lane from DC horror comics books to "The Exorcist". And there's a lot in there that provided for seriously unsettling experiences.

When it comes to jump scares, of course, nothing beats a haunted house. And the various ones I visited over the years, yes, scared my socks off. Especially the one in underground Seattle with chainsaw dude... and the one that used to be at the bottom of Queen Anne Avenue & Denny with what I was sure to be something horrible banging on the cell door.

Now, while those are pretty serious scares, deep inside you know it's a well-crafted performance.

You're also experiencing it with a bunch of other people.

With that in mind, we now travel back to the most truly terrifying experience of my life. These are my jr. high years, in Boy Scouts, at an isolated camp in the woods 15 miles north of Monroe, the foothills of the Cascade Mountain Range.

It's the end of our one week stay there and all of us, the entire camp, are congregated in the main building for our last night together. It's a bit of a last day of school vibe and, instead of yearbooks, we all have the official camp photograph featuring all of us and the camp counselors. So everyone's signing each other's photographs and I realize that I've left mine back at the cabin. Technically, an Adirondack because the middle of the fourth wall features a fireplace with open entrances to either side.

Open to the woods, basically.

Now I really really really want people to sign my photograph... so I head back to get it.

Here's the thing.

It's fully night out. And by "night" I mean the only light in the entire camp is in the main building right now. Everywhere else is pitch.

Black.

No joke.

I've got my flashlight with me and head out into that pitch blackness. That absolute darkness.

At first it's no big deal because in front of the main building is basically a parking lot.

It's only when I reached the edge of the parking lot, the beginning of the forest, the serious forest, that I realized my problem.

Narrow path.

Woods closing in on all sides.

Middle of the night (it wasn't... but it felt like it).

Battery running out in my flashlight (I made that one up on the spot).

And an axe murderer running loose out there.

Somewhere.

My problem, of course, isn't that any that’s true other than I'm in the forest at night with a flashlight.

Yeah.

My problem's my imagination. Years of DC horror comics, Alfred Hitchcock, Edgar Allen Poe, and scary stories from my transistor radio under the bed covers had prepared my imagination for a moment like this.

What moment?

Well, a moment fraught with so much unknown. After all, all I could see was in front of me. Anyplace illuminated by my flashlight.

Which wasn't much.

And in the absence of not knowing what lay beyond that, my imagination sought to fill in the blanks. Especially when it came to any sound coming from the woods beyond my light.

However.

Whatever it was my imagination was conjuring (aside from the axe murderer)...

It wasn't sharing that information with me.

I was just being filled with foreboding. I was being filled with dread. From head to toe. And my senses were jacked. All the way up.

It was not fun.

I felt completely alone in the deep dark woods with something out there.

And anytime anything new entered my awareness like the sound of leafs cracklinging or a low hanging branch come suddenly into view...

It set off even more foreboding. More dread. And an ever heightened effort by my senses to sense something.

In that state, then, is how I made it to our cabin, our Adirondack. Which is its own dreadful experience. More than walking in the woods alone, simply approaching this structure in the middle of the night definitely feels like I'm the star of my own horror movie. Because of course there’s something terrible in there. Of course it's in there waiting for me. Quietly. Still as death.

And wherever I pointed my light... it feel like I just missed something. As if I pulled the light away just as something was about to enter it. As if I pointed the light at a place where something just was.

You see, with my senses fully maxxed, it feels like there's always something... barely outside the edges of my perception.

And those openings to either side of the fireplace? The ones without doors? Yeah. Just about anything from the woods could've walked through there... even just now when I’m not specifically looking.

Yeah.

I can’t go in there.

I can’t.

Somehow, though, I manage the equivalent of jamming my hands to my ears so as not to hear anything. I basically shut out what my imagination's shouting at me. I manage that for the bare minute it takes me to dash in, grab the photo, and dash out.

Out in the woods, again, of course, my imagination's back in the driver’s seat. No sense of victory for me having achieved my objective, I’m filled once again with foreboding and dread. My senses trying to make sense of all that I can’t see or hear. Yet actively nterpreting the ambiguity of what I can see and hear and smell and feel.

Even a slight breeze seems like it means something.

Oh good grief.

It's in this jacked state of anxiety that I finally set foot in the parking lot, making sure to quickly create distance between myself and that forest edge lest arms reach out to grab me at the very last moment.

Yeah.

I was relieved like no one in the history of the world has ever been relieved.

Relieved to finally walk back into the light.

And into safety.

You and I both know I was never in danger back then.

But.

Even had I known for a fact that were true at the time, that there was, in fact, no danger... I would still've felt what I felt.

Because the unknown works that way. Our senses work that way. Our imaginations...

Always working overtime to fill in the void.

😱😳😬😵

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gffa · 2 years

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Robots for the reverse unpopular opinion meme!

I'm someone who has a very tough time getting over the idea that we're meant to care about robots in a story. They're programmed to do everything they do, no matter how sentient they look, they're still just 1s and 0s, and I almost never can get that out of my head. However, Star Wars has some sort of magical touch, because I do care about some of the droids there, mostly because they're hilarious asshole cats in robot form. R2-D2? Will come screaming into the room, rebound off the wall because he doesn't give a fuck about anything so pedestrian as "speed limits", spitting a stream of oil at the enemy, and will light the bastards up. And probably roasts marshmallows over the bonfire just after the starwipe cuts away from the scene. He definitely has given Anakin Skywalker a ride across a huge canyon more than just once. Is also willing to cut a bitch if they cross him--he knows Anakin is Darth Vader and still was ready to fly his X-Wing right up Darth Asshole's exhaust pipe and murder him right in the face, because of what he did, like, Artoo did not hesitate, bitch. Chopper? Gleefully shocks both his friends and other droids. Sometimes for a purpose, sometimes for no reason, just because it's funny! The only one he won't be an asshole cat to is Hera, who instead he will hold her hand when she's sad about someone dying, oh noooooo, even my ice cold heart towards robots was melted in that moment! Chopper, though, will knife fight you in a parking lot behind a Denny's and, make no mistake, he will beat you. He's done this a thousand times more than you'll ever have done it. BB-8? Can be an absolute angel at times, if you're sweet to him, he will be the sweetest boy back to you. But if you get on his badside, let's just be clear, that was not a thumbs up that he gave Finn, that was a, "You hurt her and I will light you up, motherfucker." BD-1? Best boy. BEST BOY!!!! He will ride around on your shoulder and hop down to go look at interesting things, then come skittering back to scramble back up your arm when you're ready to leave, all while chirping and beeping adorably, he is precious. But will also, without hesitation, go for the throat on an Imperial walker, that baby droid will stomp on the controls and destroy them into a still-sparking mess that crashes the walker to the fucking ground and will hop out of the burning wreckage with you, still brightly beeping and booping, because he's adorably asking if you can go do that again. Faithful companion and destroyer of Imperial fuckers. Best boy. Best boy. Anyway, Star Wars droids are amazing and Lucasfilm is asleep at the wheel because I would pay cash money for an animated series of all the asshole murder droids being in a series together and going on an adventure. None of these fussy or reasonable droids! No! Give us the ones who would stab each other in their sleep for fun, but actually get along and understand each other, the way two house fires merging into one understand each other.

#meta #i make myself laugh and that's all that's important #reverse unpopular opinion meme

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80s4life · 3 years

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Little Dove*

Word Count: 3,949

Status: Not Requested!

A/N: Had a thought lol

Fandom: Karate Kid 1985

Relationship: John Kreese x Student!Female Reader

Summary: You had stayed around throughout all of his bullshit. Throughout the beginning of a forever-long battle with Daniel LaRusso, throughout losing all of his Cobra Kais, going through crippling debt, and now, more than ever, as he tries to put himself together. You’ve been there, the whole time. So why is it, that when a random man from his past appears, all of his problems are fixed without a glance your way? What does this Terry Silver have that you don’t (besides endless money and a history)? It’s unfair. It’s selfish. It’s Kreese.

Taglist: @intersellars-the-alien-of-human @snapessecretdiary

Warnings: smut, teasing, jealousy, age-gap paring, language, Terry being an overprotective cockblock, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight dubcon, daddy/little girl kink, degrading kink

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist

{not my gif, credits belong to @atmostories}

I just love how innocent he looks here lol ^

Staring into the window of his office, you make no attempt in engaging in the conversation your peers were having, the people on the other side of the glass proving to be more interesting at the moment. Besides, it’s the same conversation over and over again, “Terry’s so great,” “The money,” “The brawn,” “The elegance,” you snort. All that Terry was anyway was trouble with enough money to pay off his stupidity.

The other man, however, was different. He did not become as fortunate as his younger companion. He went through many hardships that Terry would simply never understand. The proof: you. You had been there, through thick and thin. You can still remember the fights, injuries, and brokenness of a man like a slideshow constantly playing in your head, haunting your dreams. You should’ve left a long time ago, but you didn’t. There were points in your life that made you consider dropping him and everything he was in contact with at one point. But, yet again, you never did. All you did was forgive and forget, most of the time without apologies.

But no matter how much you’ve tried, there was always one outlier that couldn’t be erased.

Holding onto your brothers shoulder, you congratulate him on how well he’d done. He lost the tournament, but it was his heart that shined through it. Johnny was the one who handed LaRusso his trophy even as they were beating each other senseless moments ago. Pulling him in tightly, you whisper, “You did good, Blondie. We’ll get ‘em next year.”

He smiles broadly at this, returning the favor, “You didn’t do too bad yourself, Tiny. Hell, maybe next year, you’ll be the one to beat his ass for me... That, or you’ll be the same height as him,” he ruffles your hair.

“Shut up!” you swat his hands playfully, shouldering his side, then making your way over to the man of the hour. “Congratulations,” you outstretch your hand, “You were tough to beat! I’ll get ya one day though!” you point to him smiling as Johnny pulls you out of the arena with him.

“Thanks...Oh, and I’ll hold you to it!” he yells back, lifting his trophy high above his head. You leave with a sly smirk and playful roll of the eyes, not bad LaRusso.

Walking outside, you smile at Kreese nervously, knowing that he wasn’t going to take the loss lightly. Ignoring you completely, he snatches your brother from your grasp within moments, pinning him the the nearest car in the parking lot. With Johnny under the weight of Kreese, you try to yank him off, no longer in fear of your actions but what could happen if you don’t act fast. Shoving you out of the way with a hard jab of his elbow to your eye, Kreese goes back to harming your brother, switching positions as he goes to tighten his arm around Johnny’s neck.

Tommy, fearing for his life, stands still, on the verge of passing out. Dutch goes to help you up, pulling you away from Kreese’s proximity, but not for long. Full of anger and disappointment, you tear you body away from Dutch’s, giving him a stern look that he acknowledges and respects, stepping back. You run towards Kreese once more, putting more force into your pushes and shoves. He catches your eyes for a moment, anger glazing over his own as he gets a good look at the utter helplessness and determination within your own. He doesn’t loosen up though, tightening his hold even more so as if to test you.

Lunging once more, he blocks you from him and counters with a hard blow to your face. You fall again at Kreese’s feet, Johnny’s purpling face looking down at yours in fear and worry. As you go to make a final attempt, your prayers are answered, a man about your height grabbing Kreese’s fist in a vice grip. In a daze, Johnny is able to slip from his hold to the ground beneath him, falling into your outstretched arms as you lunge, again, to protect his head. Kreese, now turning his fury onto the short man, goes for a punch, missing and smashing the glass beside his target.

As the fight starts to get worse, Dutch gets a hold of Johnny, taking his weight off of yours and dragging him to safety. Jimmy and Bobby, going to help Dutch, leaves Tommy to help you up. Taking his hand gratefully, you are able to see Kreese’s demise clearly, a burning crimson decorating his now busted fists, no doubt shredded and in need of medical care. You turn back just in time for him to look your way, grief washing over your figure as you feel a sense of uncertainty.

The boys get into Johnny’s car quickly, pulling out of the car lot. Tommy, silently turning his calming body to yours, questions you with his eyes. Shaking your head lightly, you signal for him to go with them, your head hazy with the brute force of numerous blows previously clashing with your face. He nods knowingly, smiling weakly, as if questioning your motives or even why you were considering the choice you’d made up. Johnny looks back at you too, but is reassured as the short man, Mr. Miyagi, places a hand on your shoulder. As they peel out of the lot, you sigh and all the strength you’d conjured dropped instantly.

“You need checkup,” the older man states, looking you over.

“Yeah, but I need to take care of him first,” you point at the man.

“Ah. Good heart always forgives. You come by dojo sometime.”

“I’ll think about it,” you answer, kindly excusing yourself as LaRusso runs over to Miyagi, leaving just you and Kreese left in the parking lot.

Slowly, you pace yourself as to not speed too closely, too quickly to the man, walking lightly and quietly. Upon entering a close proximity, he looks up, neutral expression catching you off guard. Blinking once, he looks back down at his continuously bleeding hands, acknowledging your presence but not daring to step the line of communication. He never does.

“Do you...Do you n- ...?” you start, at a loss for words as you try to rephrase the question in a way to still make him feel superior without appearing weak to himself, “Do you want my help?”

He doesn’t say anything as an answer, just simply stares at the reddening hands.

So, following his chosen behavior, you adopt it and act the same. Slowly, you take off your fleece sweater, soft and warm to the touch, and move closer to Kreese. As you move into his personal space, you don’t dare look him in the eyes, and go to rip a piece of the sweater in half. Silently, you carefully take one of his hands in your own, them swallowing yours in turn. Wrapping the now torn cloth around his fists, you slightly tighten the material around the injury to prevent further bleeding, tying off the ends to keep the sweater where you want it. Turning to do the same for the other hand, Kreese never winces, or sucks in a breath, or even grunts in anguish.

As you finish your duty, you step back, parts of your hands and some of your pants now coated in differing amounts of blood from the constant dripping mess he’d left it in for a while. Taking in a deep breath, you look at him directly for the first time of the night, “Get in the car.”

That was the first of many nightmares that litter your mind. You grew into a tough, headstrong, and independent woman not only physically, but mentally as well. You were no longer the child looked down from the tip of Kreese’s nose, and despite your height not making much of a difference, you had filled into your body, soul, and mind. You were a woman nonetheless.

You were understood by Johnny, but to an extent. As you had continued to serve Kreese, it was only right that Johnny distanced himself from him, and with that, came you as well. You accepted this, and knew that you were not at war with him, settling for calls and texts when you missed him most. Johnny still allowed you the time to talk about your problems like you did in high school, and even let you rant about the newest situation with Kreese. Everyday, he worried for you, but he knew that this was what you wanted.

He knew you fell for him before you even had.

After that night, you went through phases with Kreese: sometimes he was happy and nice to you, other times was full of anger, arguments, and nonstop screaming at one another. You were like an old married couple without the ring, matrimony, and age. You didn’t pay any mind to it, the mixture of feelings for him stronger than the will to leave as you’d wanted to in your youth.

But overall was the feeling of betrayal, or at least a form of it. For 4 years, after the night of the failed tournament, you were with Kreese, and finally, when things started to clear themselves out, another problem arose. Although shit out of luck, Kreese was ready to give up the dojo, give it to the owner, and move on in hopes of wiping the slate clean. You were ready to forgive him. And then, Terry Silver, unable to let the past be the past, convinced Kreese to give it a second try.

Now as you sit in a circle with Dennis, Mike, and Snake on the mat of the dojo, doing some stretches before training starts, you couldn’t help but look at the men excluding you from something you had tried to keep alive as long as they had. Longer than Terry at least.

Snapping sounds through your frustrated haze, knocking you back into reality by Snake’s fingers. Scrunching your nose in confusion, you look at him, anger now turned towards him instead. “You keep drooling like that and we’ll all be slipping around and breaking shit. Then how would we be at the tournament?”

“Fuck you, Snake,” you get up, stomping to the office without another word. He just turns a mock-offended expression to the boys who give confused ones in return.

Storming into the small cubicle deemed an office, you turn to the men standing side-by-side. “Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart? The boys not playing fair?” Terry teases, trying to push your buttons.

Face now reddened with anger, you spit, “We don’t pay for you to sit around in your office and play with each other’s dicks. You can do that on your own time.”

“You don’t pay period as far as I’m concerned. And last time I checked, you weren’t of much use here anyways, Shortcake,” Terry rebuttals.

“And last time I checked, you're just here to tie your hair back, paint your nails, torture a kid half your age and an man even older than you.”

“Why you-!”

“Terry!” Kreese warns, a hand placed on his comrades’ chest, “It’s not worth your time, just go get the boys readied up for practice.”

“Sure...sure Johnny, I can do that,” he says eagerly, leaving the room with a side glance your way and elbow to the shoulder as he passes by.

Getting up from the back of the desk, Kreese loops around to close the office door, going back to where he was previously. “Wow, you really have that dog under wraps huh? Ready to bark when you say ‘bark’ or growl when you say ‘growl’?”

“Y/N, not now. You better cut this shit out now or I’ll kick you out,” he warns.

“Oh, so now your protecting him?! You’re going to sit here, right now, and threaten me for what? Because he served with you? Because you saved him?! What a load of shit!”

“Watch your mouth! You have no right to raise your voice to me! What I do with this dojo is none of your damn business, and will certainly never concern you. Ever.”

“Oh yeah! For sure! What did he even do, huh? What’s so great about him that is worth protecting his ass for when he’s never had to do anything in return?! I was there John! I was! I dealt with your shit for 4 years! Not 1! Not 2! Not even fucking 3!”

“I never told you to! No one was stopping you from walking out that damn door when everyone else had! I would’ve done perfectly fine without your ‘help’ when all it did was provide extra shit to take care of!”

“Really?! That’s what it was? Nothing? I dealt with your anger issues, your screaming! The god damn punches, kicks, spits, screams, hell anything you wanted to do in order to harm someone else to make you feel better! But that wasn’t me... No... Of course it wasn’t, right?”

“I’ve got no time for this. Stay in this fucking room and don’t move. You even dare come out into that dojo and you’re out. I have a winner to make and not some little girl to argue with.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, tears pooling at the bottom of your eyelids as the door hides you from view.

For hours, you sit in boredom, listening to the repetitive “hut” or “ah” as blow after blow is thrown into the dummies and punching bags. If only they could do that to me, take me out of my misery for fuck’s sake. But, despite the utter pissed state you were in, you did not move from the desk, even deciding to take a nap. It wasn’t until Dennis’ unusually loud laugh is echoed within the whole dojo do you finally wake back up. Looking through the blinds, you see the boys getting packed up. Doing the same, you walk out of the office just in time for Terry to leave with the boys a few moments later.

Speeding across the length of the mats, you take long strides in order to storm as fast as possible out of the cage that holds the biggest chains around your neck. Going for the door, you are unable to catch yourself as Kreese grabs your hand and flips you onto your back, splaying your body on the mats beneath you.

Groaning, you move to sit up, watching as he goes to lock the door to the dojo, throwing the keys somewhere and closing the blinds of the big glass panes adorning the front wall. Getting up, the harbored anger floods your being once more, “I’m done with your bullshit Kreese. Let me the fuck out so I can leave this place once and for all. You seem to be doing ‘perfectly fine’ with your boyfriend, so let me go!”

Without answering, he grabs you by the neck firmly, but not enough to choke you. The memories of Johnny instantly flood your mind, causing you to grab his hand just as tight, eyes peering straight into his. Noticing your change in demeanor, he loosens his hold a little and pushes your back up against the closest wall to your back. As your back collides with the wall, his lips clasp yours.

Whining in surprise, you go to pull back only for him to pull you closer by the neck. Realization dawns on you after a moment, and within seconds, your leaning into his touch absentmindedly. You only break apart once your lungs beg for more air. “There. Is that what you wanted?” he asks you, voice gravelly.

Ignoring his comment, you grab him by the nape of his neck, pulling him into you once again, tongue battling his own. Your tongue dances around, observing every crevice and tasting every bit of his mouth, grazing his teeth, biting his lips, and even tangling it with his. Taking control back, he shoves your body back into the wall, separating your mouth from his, a trail of saliva the only thing connecting your bodies.

His hand, long forgotten and hanging loose on your neck, tightens the grip back up firmly once again and moves his other to pin your arms above your head. Now basking in dominance, he kisses you once more, pinning his knee between your legs in the most delicious way. Taking advantage of the placement, you attempt to grind your core against his thigh to relieve some tension.

“Ah. Ah. Ah,” he warns, pulling his knee away and moving to unbuckle his belt instead, “On your knees, Slut.”

Obeying instantly, you do as he says and place yourself on your knees. Finally undoing the tie of his gi, he pulls his pants, alongside his underwear, down just enough to let his dick spring free. Gulping in admiration, you take in the view of his girth and length, precum oozing at the tip.

“Looks like your happy to see me,” you joke, loosening your tension in your shoulders.

Stepping closer, Kreese edges closer to your mouth, and, taking the hint, you wrap one hand around the base of his shaft. Your other hand, deciding teasing is the best get-back, wraps itself closer to the tip, thumb grazing the slit. Earning a shudder of pleasure from the man, he goes to move in closer again. Pulling your head away, you squeeze the tip loosely, staring up at Kreese.

At your locked gaze, his cheeks burn bright pink, enabling you to give the man what he wants now that he’s at a loss for words and flustered for you. Taking him into your mouth little by little, you stop just before the barricade of choking. Eyes locked onto his, you place your hands on either side of his hips for support, then take him in as fully as physically possible. Instantly, you are met by struggling moans of relief.

Swirling your tongue around and lapping at his veiny member, he struggles to control himself, the undying need for more consuming him. Pulling away just enough to keep the tip in your mouth, you nod at him, giving him the okay to do as he pleases. That was all he needed to start going, pulling your mouth around his cock again, and tangling his hands in your hair for a better grip. Thrusting into your mouth now, you try your best to breathe as you feel him start twitching, knowing you will be fine in a few minutes.

The closer he gets to ecstasy, the louder he gets, hips thrusting in any possible direction as his pleasure threatens to bubble over. “Look at me,” he orders, looking you in the eyes. Slightly confused, you do as told, looking at him through your eyelashes as he continuously uses your mouth. “That’s it, Good Girl.”

Without warning, he unleashes his load into your mouth, the hot and sticky cum shooting to the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow. Licking up the remains, you make a show of swallowing the contents as well, getting back onto your feet with a help of his hand. Pulling your body into his, he kisses you deeply, tasting himself.

You whine as you are still left in uncomfortable need for him, having not gotten your share just yet, the feeling of being filled a painful reminder. “Don’t worry, Daddy’ll take care of you.” And that, he does, getting to work on untying your gi and throwing the long-sleeved shirt over you head. Doing the same to him, you match his enthusiasm, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the room.

Playing with your clothed breasts, Kreese slips a hand under your bra to pinch your nipples, twisting them between his middle and fore fingers. Moaning, you pull him into your chest nibbling his ear. Gliding his hands down your sides and to your waist, he slowly edges his fingers slightly underneath your pants, pushing them down with your panties. As he busies himself with your clothes, you move your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, breasts springing free and instantly hardening at the new temperature of the room.

Fingers, teasing your entrance, catches you off-guard, moaning again at the first shocks of pleasure. “Kreese,” you start breathlessly, “Enough is enough. Mgh... Stop teasing me,” you try to order, impatient and horny.

“As you wish, Princess.”

Lifting up one of your legs and wrapping it around his hipbone, he lines himself up with your entrance, entering slowly. Together, you sigh in ease simultaneously. Nodding once, you lean your forehead underneath his chin, starting to thrust slowly. Knowing this isn’t the pace he prefers, and body adjusting to his shape, you pull him in closer, whispering in his ear, “Faster, Daddy.”

Jolting at the name, he fastens the pace, grinding in rougher strokes, rubbing every part of you body in the best way possible. No one’s ever filled you the way he is now, and it leaves you stunned in a trance of utter euphoria. Tapping your other leg, you hop up to warp both legs around Kreese. At the new angle, he thrusts upwards, the overstimulation causing you to shake in a new sensation.

Squeezing his dick tightly, you try to hold your orgasm off for as long as possible, but the building want of release causes you to topple over the edge quickly, spilling all over the body still within your own. Without faltering, Kreese continues his assault on your body, causing you to scream out in the fury of pleasure being all too much for you. Shaking harder, you struggle to keep yourself around his body for long.

Seeing this, Kreese keeps himself sheathed in your cunt, laying you on your back against the mats of the flooring. Grabbing your legs, Kreese bends them until your thighs meet your chest. Then, thrusting at the same pace as before, Kreese is able to fuck you senseless without further issues. Moaning screams of ecstasy echo throughout the dojo, the combination of yourself and the slapping of skin being the only noises in the room.

As quickly as you’d built up the previous time, your orgasm and need of release forms again, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. “Kreese..” is all you manage, the older man quickly teetering towards the edge with you. Thrusting the hardest he had the whole night, he manages only a few more before you both come at the same time, screaming as you pull him down by the neck and into your chest, your name falling from his tongue in multiples.

Sucking in as much air as possible, Kreese and you stay in the same position panting before he unsheathes himself and collapses next to you. Catching your breath, you cuddle into his side in a naked heap of sweat and satisfaction. “Are you still jealous of Terry now?”

“It depends, am I still as useless as before?”

“I don’t believe so,” Kreese giggles, “but if you pull another crazy stunt like that, I will really have to give you a good beating. Huh, Babydoll?”

“I like the sound of that,” you say, going to straddle his hips as he lays on his back, “How about round two and I’ll consider not ripping his throat out?”

“Deal.”

#john kreese x reader #john kreese imagine #john kreese #martin kove #martin kove x reader #martin kove imagine #terry silver #tig #thomas ian griffith #mike barnes #sean kanan #kk3 #kk1 #kk #karate kid #karate kid imagine #karate kid 1 #karate kid 3

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maybe-itll-be-someday · 3 years

Text

Teenage Dreams

The one where someone disrespects Emily and Jack remedies it by punching them in the face.

Read on AO3

Emily was a great Mom.

Despite the fact that they weren't related by blood, she was the only mom he truly ever know. He never really knew his actual Mom since she had died so long ago now. He had snippets of memories, barely threads now since it's been over a decade since she passed, and the stories that his Dad would tell him. About how they first met in the Pirates of Penzance play in high school, how she supported him through law school and the Academy, and how she loved strawberry ice cream and will always love him.

But Emily had always been around, on the sidelines of his soccer games and baseball tournaments, wiping his tears and kissing his bandages when he scraped his knee or slammed his finger in the car door. They had gotten married almost five years ago now and it was only in the last three that Jack had insisted on calling her Mom.

"You're the only Mom I have." He had said when she was stunned into silence as he tested the moniker on his lips on a Wednesday afternoon. He doesn't think he'd ever seen Emily cry so hard before.

The only thing Jack Hotchner didn't really like about his mom, is all the snide comments and half whispers among his friends whenever they came over. He was aware that Emily was beautiful, if the way his Dad always told her was any indication.

It was after school and Mom had come to pick him up after his first soccer practice, his friends quickly starting to elbow each other as his Mom made his way towards them, still dressed from work with her FBI badge hanging off the side of her blazer.

"Hi sweetie." Emily greets. She smiled brilliantly at all his friends, some of whom quickly averted their eyes at the sight of her.

"Hey Mom. These are my teammates." He says, introducing her to the gangly group of teenagers who were either outright staring or doing everything in their power to not make any eye contact.

"I just need to go grab my stuff from the locker room. I'll meet you at the car?" Emily nods, knowing that now that Jack was getting older he was starting to enter the phase where everything his parents did embarrassed him, even if it was just something as simple as picking him up from practice. If Emily were a betting woman, she would wager a large amount of money that Jack wanted her to park down the street so his friends never saw her.

If only she knew exactly why Jack was keeping his friends far away from her.

His friends immediately start whispering to themselves as Emily makes her way back towards the parking lot to wait for Jack.

"That's his mom?"

"Holy shit."

"That is a MILF if I've ever seen one." Jack is quick to shoot an angry glare at his teammate, who at the stern look in Jack's eye, had the decency to look embarrassed before they made their way into the locker room.

Jack could still hear the rumblings among his friends, catching the words sexy and red from the direction of the showers. He tries to block it out, but he can feel the tips of his ears go read as his teammates swapped remarks about their list of hottest Moms and somehow, his own makes it on the list.

He's still bright red when he hops into the car, Mom with a concerned look on her face.

"Are you alright, Jack? You're not catching a fever, are you?" She frowns, checking his temperature with the back of his hand as he swats her away.

"Mom, I'm fine. It's nothing." Emily tuts, Jack's tone toeing the boundary between upset and disrespectful.

"Jack, you know that as a profiler I can tell when you're lying to me, right?" She says, her eyebrow raised and Jack grumbles to himself. Emily smiles at the muttered words, but for her benefit, she asks him to speak up.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said yes ma'am, I am well-aware."

"And you also know that I won't force you to talk about anything unless you want to talk about it?"

A small smile breaks on Jack's lips. Mom never did push him to talk about anything, always just letting him know that she was available when he eventually did want to. Her only condition was that he would talk to her eventually, no matter how long that took. It was one of Jack's favorite things about her, since she could really calm his Dad down when he had that vein bulging from his neck whenever information was withheld from him.

"I'm aware of that too."

"As long as you know." She says, before turning up the radio and singing in an off-tune pitch to the latest pop song on the radio, clearly unaware of the actual lyrics or which key the song is supposed to be in.

Okay, maybe there were two things he didn't like about her.

The next time someone makes a comment about his Mom, they make it to Jack's face.

Dennis Smith was one of those kids you'd consider an outcast in school. Always dressed in torn jeans and black, followed by thin cronies who were too afraid to stand-up to the kids who picked on them so they ended up hiding behind a larger bully. He had been taunting Elliot, Jack's lab partner, for the past three weeks. Elliot had run into class that day, his shirt torn and bag half-opened as he rushed to sit next to Jack.

"Dude, what happened?" Jack asked when he spotted the torn pocket and the hastily stuffed belongings in his backpack. Some of his books were wet and if Jack had to guess, they had roughed him up in the boy's bathroom.

"Dennis." Elliot just mumbles, pulling out his notebook and cursing when he realizes that they took his wallet.

No one was going to pick on his friends if he could do something about it.

At least, that's what his Dad taught him.

So when Chemistry ends, he stalks Dennis and finds him bent over a water fountain, his friends chatting away while leaning on the locker next to him. Jack reaches over and taps him on the shoulder, a bewildered expression on Dennis' face.

"What do you want, Hotchner?" He spit out, puffing his chest to make him seem bigger than he actually was. Dennis didn't like him, since he was one of the only ones who wasn't scared of the bully. Jack found it hard to be scared of him, considering the fact that both of his parents were in the FBI and dealt with much scarier things than insecure teenage boys with an anger issue.

Jack crosses his arms, Elliot hiding behind him as he stares Dennis down.

"What's your problem with Elliot?" He asks flatly, interested in getting to the bottom of this. The hallway slowly starts to flood with students exiting their classes and the commotion causes a small crowd to form. In the corner of his eye, Jack can see cellphones being pulled out and aimed right at them.

"My problem is that little pipsqueak told Ms. Gardner that I was cheating." The bully stares directly at Elliot, who cowers further behind Jack despite the fact that Jack was only a few inches taller than him.

"But you were cheating."

"Well, if he learned to mind his own business, then maybe we wouldn't pick on him so much." Jack sizes Dennis up - he notices the muddy state of his shoes and pants that dangle just above his ankles, clearly too short for him. He smells faintly of body odor and some form of energy drink and if Jack had to guess, no one was providing him parental supervision at home.

He was angry, and had no one to direct that anger towards except for a student who was just doing his due diligence.

"Look, Dennis. I get it - your parents don't spend enough time with you, they leave you alone a lot, and you're angry about it. Can't you find something better to do with your time? Like actually studying so you don't need to cheat?"

Dennis flushes bright red and Jack turns and motions for Elliot to follow him. Hopefully, that would be enough to stop them from bullying Elliot. It's only then that he hears what Dennis mutters under his breath.

"Not all of us have a hot ass stepmom to tend to our every need. If I had a stepmom like that-"

Jack's fist connects with his nose, his knuckles flashing in pain at the contact. He feels a white hot rage spark under his skin, directed at anyone who would think to badmouth his family. The crowd gasps as Dennis falls to the floor, clutching his nose and yelping in pain. Jack flexes his knuckles and winces at the dull ache that settled in his joints. He freezes when he hears a familiar voice call out his name.

"Jack Hotchner!" Jack's eyes close and hopes that it isn't who he thinks it is.

He plasters a smile on his face and turns around, hiding his swollen hand behind his back.

"Hi Principal Gibbons."

"You are grounded for at least three months." Aaron says, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. It was just his luck that his Dad would be the one to pick him up. Apparently, Mom was off on a case with the BAU and Jack had a feeling she would be more understanding of him breaking Dennis' nose after fifth period.

After all, she was the one who signed him up for self-defense classes.

"What were you thinking Jack? Breaking a kid's nose?" His Dad had been furious upon arriving at the Principal's office. To the normal outsider, he looked calm, but Jack knew the fury that lay underneath. Dad had an excellent poker face and he managed to keep his anger under wraps until they got back into the car.

"He was being a dick."

"Language." His Dad warns and Jack sighs, knowing that swearing probably wasn't going to save him from the thin ice he was already on.

"Look, he was bullying my friend Elliot and I stood up to him."

"So, instead of talking it out, you punched him." Aaron says in disbelief and Jack shakes his head in frustration.

"No, I told him that his parents weren't around and that he was angry, so instead of picking on Elliot, he should just study."

There's a beat of silence.

"You profiled him?" Aaron curses the pride that blooms at the realization, not wanting Jack to get off that easy. After all, he did get suspended for three days and had to visit the school counselor with Dennis upon his return for 'mediation'.

"I did. Then I walked away."

"Then why did you punch him?"

"Because he said something about Emily." Jack's arms cross, his gaze out the window and Aaron sighs. He had been ecstatic when Emily came to him with tears in her eyes because Jack wanted to start calling her Mom. It was a decision that Aaron always left entirely up to Jack, not wanting to force him into feeling like they were replacing Haley since they were getting married. She had always been perfectly fine at being called Emily, not wanting to infringe on Jack's view of Haley. Jack only reverted back to calling her 'Emily' when he wanted to distinguish Emily and Haley.

Aaron lets the silence sit for a minute, his anger deflating. "What did he say?" He eventually asks.

"That not everyone had a hot ass stepmom to tend to their every need."

A different flash of anger runs through Aaron, his grip around the steering wheel tightening a little bit and his knuckles flashing white.

"That's why I punched him. I don't want anyone to talk about Mom like that."

Aaron lets out a breath, the last of his anger dissipating with Jack's words. He had always taught Jack to stand-up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves and he did just that. He stood up for Elliot and he stood up for Emily as well, not tolerating any disrespect for the people he cared about.

"Hot ass stepmom?" Aaron asks, a curious eyebrow raised.

"Oh Dad, you have no idea."

Emily comes back home to the angry marks on Jack's hand settling into purple and yellow bruises.

"You did what?"

"He punched a kid at school. He'll be suspended until tomorrow." Emily crossed her arms, disappointment in her expression. "Did this kid attempt to hit you first?"

Jack shook his head, hung low from the stare his Mom was baring into him. Aaron chuckles, rescuing Jack from what he is sure is a tongue lashing with a gentle hand placed on her shoulder.

"He was actually defending a friend." Mom's stance softens ever so slightly and eventually, she uncrosses her arms and sighs.

"As long as it was for the right reasons. But I still don't condone the violence and you're grounded until next week." Jack nods, knowing that it was a lenient punishment considering he spent the last month grounded because he had snuck out to see a girl.

Later, when Jack is in bed, Aaron tells Emily the true reason why he had gotten in trouble. Her heart swells with pride and an absolute adoration for the boy she's watched grow up and felt honored that he would defend her from his peers.

"Hot ass stepmom, huh?" She teases as Aaron bristles. She loved that even after years together, he still got jealous. Many cops and detectives have been the end of the Hotchner glare when he caught them checking her out and somehow, it doesn't surprise her that a few harmless teenage crushes would cause his heckles to rise.

"Oh sweetheart." She coos, snaking her arms around his neck as his hands land on her hips. She doesn't miss the way his grip is just a little tighter and giggles as he grunts in acknowledgement.

"You don't need to worry about a bunch of teenage boys stealing me away."

"Who says I'm worried?"

Emily just laughs, smoothing the frown on his forehead.

"Whatever you say, sweetie."

Later that week, when Jack's friends come over before they head to the high school football game, Emily comes home from her run. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun, her sweat slick on her skin and her running shorts hugging her behind tightly. Aaron walks into the living room to greet her to see two pairs of eyes glued to Emily's form as she walks into the kitchen to get some water.

He throws them a death glare and doesn't fight the smirk on his face when Emily presses a kiss to his lips in greeting.

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jack hotchner #aaron x emily

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scabsm · 3 years

Text

Tsukishima Imagine: Gn! Reader

Warnings: none.

Denny's with Tsukishima:

- For some reason Denny's is Tsukishima's favorite restaurant.

- You, his mom, and Yamaguchi are the only one's that know the truth.

Tsuki pulled into a parking space as he retorted, "There's no god damn way you're faster than me, babe. It's just not possible. Not to boast, but I have a lot of stamina." He playfully winks at you. Your face gets hot.

"You may have stamina, but do you have speed?" You unbuckle your seatbelt as does he.

"Do you wanna bet?"

"Actually I do. Let's race right now."

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now. Unless you're a coward."

"Really? In the Denny's parking lot?"

"Duh. It'd be a waste of gas to drive somewhere so I can beat you, then have to drive back so you can buy me dinner."

He quirks an eyebrow up at you and gets out of the car.

"Come on. You might be buying me dinner after this." At his words you hop out of the car and start stretching your legs. Tsukishima stands next to you doing the same thing.

"To that bush past the red car?" You breathe deeply to get your lungs ready.

"Anything you say. I'll still beat you."

You both get ready and count to three. On three you take off down the pavement and Tsuki is already left behind you. You look back and see that the motherfucker is jogging. You roll your eyes and make it to the bush. Tsuki soon joins you.

"Oh no, you beat me. Guess I'll be buying you dinner." You should have known. Kei would never let you pay for stuff.

"You asshole. You cheated." You try to hide your smile but you know that he is trying to be sweet.

"That's not the first time you've called me that. I know it won't be the last." He scoops your hand into his and your magnetic bracelets automatically connect to each other.

#haikyuu x reader #writer 👾#gn reader #gn!reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!!#tsukishima kei #tsukishima scenarios #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #denny's

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comic-book-jawns · 3 years

Text

Ten Minutes

Based on an anon prompt

“Hey, I’m so - ”

Jamie flung her arms around her, which was always welcome, of course. But it was done with quite a bit of urgency for having last seen each other not even an hour ago. Jamie had clocked out a bit early to go home and shower ahead of their dinner reservation, and they’d agreed to meet back up at the restaurant, which they were currently standing outside of. Dani was trying to catch her breath, having run over.

Jamie pulled back now, her hands lightly gripping Dani’s upper arms.

“You alright?”

Jamie looked alarmingly distressed. Her voice sounded tight, and her cheek felt clammy as Dani cupped it. Dani tried for a reassuring smile, even as her own mind raced. Why was Jamie so worked up?

“I’m fine. I’m... so sorry. I was... talking to a customer... and lost track of time.”

At that, Jamie let go of her and stepped back, shoving her hands in her pockets. She cleared her throat and looked down. Dani wanted to say something but was at a loss. She’d assumed Jamie would be relieved, but she seemed even more upset now.

Dani took a step closer.

“Hey... are - are you okay?”

Jamie didn’t step back, but she still wouldn’t meet her eye, and she scoffed.

“Well, I’ve been here, haven’t I?”

Dani’s heart sank. She’d felt guilty as soon as she’d realized she wouldn’t make it on time. But still... she glanced down at her watch. It was ten minutes past the time they’d agreed to meet, not ideal but within a standard grace period, and this wasn’t a special occasion — as far as Dani was aware, at least — just a Friday night dinner.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry... I would’ve called, but I... I figured you’d already left the apartment, so... ”

“S’fine.”

Jamie still wouldn’t look up and was now kicking pebbles toward the curb. Dani stepped closer and rubbed Jamie’s upper arm.

“It’s not. Please just... ”

Dani cut herself off with sigh. Jamie hadn’t pulled away, but Dani could tell she wasn’t going to engage. Something was clearly bothering her, and Dani’s explanation for her tardiness had only exacerbated it. She knew Jamie wasn’t the jealous type, but what did that leave?

“Jamie, I... ” Dani swallowed. “I really did lose track of time. I’m not - I didn’t leave late on purpose.”

She should’ve said nothing.

Jamie whipped her head back up, her face flushed. How of much it was in anger versus embarrassment was unclear. But it was definitely both.

“I know that!”

Startled, Dani jumped slightly, then saw her own expression mirrored on Jamie’s face. Dani’s hand slipped off her arm as Jamie stepped back, the color draining from her face. Before Dani could call out, someone else did.

“Jamie! Party of two.”

Dani saw Jamie tense up and followed her gaze. Looking over her own shoulder, Dani saw the hostess standing by the restaurant door looking around, two menus in hand. Assuming she would just want to go home, Dani turned back to Jamie.

But Jamie was gone.

*****

She hadn’t gone far.

Dani found her in the first place she looked: the park around the corner. Jamie was sitting on a swing, kicking off and then dragging her feet against the wood chips as she swung back. There were a few kids playing on the jungle gym but none on the swings.

As Dani approached her, she could see tears trickling down Jamie’s face. As much as she wanted to take her in her arms, she knew it would better to take things slow, so she sat down on the swing beside her instead. Dani didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing again, so they sat for almost a minute in silence, save for Jamie’s sniffling.

“D’ya know the last thing Louise said to me?”

Dani shook her head, relieved Jamie wasn’t going to give her the silent treatment. Then, she realized Jamie probably wasn’t looking at her, and therefore hadn’t seen her acknowledge the question. Then, she remembered it had clearly been rhetorical. She was so distracted it took her a moment to process what Jamie said next.

“Me neither.”

Dani’s heart sank again as her breath caught. She looked over to find Jamie wiping her face with the heel of her hand. Then, she returned it to the chain of the swing and continued staring straight ahead.

“It’s s’pose to stay with ya — whether it haunts ya or comforts ya... That’s what I’ve heard, but... ” Jamie cleared her throat. “Didn’t even realize at first... that she’d really gone.”

Jamie finally looked over her, and Dani felt her own eyes watering, but she did her best to keep the tears at bay. She couldn’t stop herself from letting out a small gasp, though, when Jamie dropped her right hand from the swing chain and held it out. Dani took it immediately, squeezing it, and offering a faint small. Jamie faced forward again but didn’t let go.

“She wasn’t there when we woke up. But that wasn’t unusual. Me and Denny went to school, asked a neighbor to look in on Mikey. Not that she did it gladly... or well.” Jamie let out a mirthless chuckle. “Denny went out with his friends after, and I went home to find... ”

Dani squeezed Jamie’s hand. She’d heard this part before. Jamie cleared her throat.

“So once I calmed Mikey down, changed ’im, I went over with him to see Agnes, our neighbor, give her a piece ah ma mind. She wasn’t s’pose to leave ’im alone. That was the whole point.” Dani nodded. “But she started yellin’ back, said Louise had come home with a man and told her to leave.”

Dani squeezed Jamie’s hand again as Jamie took a shaky breath.

“I didn’t want to believe her. But she didn’t have a reason to lie. The only reason she watched Mikey willin’ly was so she wouldn’t have to stay home with her deadbeat husband. But she still... ” Jamie chuckled again. “She still stood there and laughed at me.”

Jamie sniffled, and Dani swung sideways toward her, close enough to gently nudge Jamie’s foot with her own. She smiled softly as she saw Jamie’s lips twitch.

“So I went back home, but I still thought she’d show up. Told maself she’d just gone off to a pub with ’im, that she’d come traipsing back drunk that night or hungover the next day... But then it was the next day, then it had been a few days, then a week... And that’s when it finally hit me.”

Dani squeezed Jamie’s hand once more as Jamie cleared her throat.

“So I tried to remember what she’d said — any part of our last conversation... and I came up blank.”

Jamie turned to her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she didn’t seem to be actively crying anymore.

“That’s what I was doin’ while I was waitin’.” Dani furrowed her brow. Jamie looked down at their hands, and her voice grew softer. “I was tryna remember the last thing you said to me.”

Dani felt the air being sucked from her lungs. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she felt even worse now than she had outside the restaurant.

“Jamie!”

It came out strangled, breathless. The tears finally broke free and started streaming down her face. Her vision blurred, but she saw Jamie’s head whip back up.

“No, Dani, please. Please don’t. This is my fault.”

Jamie sounded on the verge of tears again, but Dani shook her head violently.

“It is, Dani. I - I overreacted when ya didn’t show... and then I took it out on ya ’cause I was embarrassed.”

Dani nodded after a moment. Having a meltdown wouldn’t help either of them, and Jamie’s behavior made a lot more sense now. But something still didn’t add up. She took a few deep breaths as wiped her face with her free hand, then cleared her throat.

“If you were that concerned, why didn’t you just look for me?”

Jamie opened her mouth to respond, then closed it after a moment and looked down at their hands. Dani tried to think of what to say, cursing herself for having upset her again. But just then, Jamie burst out laughing. It was genuine, Dani could tell, but that only added to her confusion.

“Jay?”

Jamie shook her head as if to clear it.

“Sorry, I, uh... ” She cleared her throat and looked back up, smiling faintly. “I didn’t look for ya ’cause it had only been a few minutes, and I didn’t want to seem like a possessive psycho.”

Jamie laughed and looked down again. Dani exhaled, relaxing slightly.

“But I failed after all.”

“Jamie... ”

“No, it’s - we spend so much time together as it is. And obviously you’re allowed to talk to other people.” Jamie looked up, tense. “You know that, right? That that’s not why - ”

Dani squeezed her hand.

“I know. You - you thought something had happened to me.” Jamie nodded sheepishly. “I’ll be more... conscientious from now on.”

Jamie shook her head.

“Dani - ”

Dani put her other hand around Jamie’s now, too.

“Jamie, it’s my choice.” Jamie sighed after a moment. “But I can’t - I can’t guarantee I won’t ever run late again or - ”

“’Course not. No one can. I know that... Doesn’t mean... ” She cleared her throat and looked down. “Just hard to remind maself ah that sometimes.”

Dani nodded, massaging Jamie’s hand. They sat in silence for a few moments, both swinging slightly, then Dani gently released Jamie’s hand. Jamie went wide-eyed, so Dani slipped her left arm around the swing chain and stood up as quickly as possible.

“Can I, umm?”

Dani held out her arms, then smiled as Jamie’s crooked smile greeted her. Jamie stood up swiftly and flung her arms around her once more. Dani closed her eyes as she cradled Jamie’s head and rubbed her back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Jamie - ”

“And thank you.”

“For what?”

The response came a few moments later.

“Bein’ you.”

Dani felt her smile widen, then remembered something.

“Did you?”

Nothing, then:

“Did I... ”

Dani opened her eyes, chuckling as she realized how her ridiculous her question had sounded without context.

“Did you, umm... ” She swallowed. “Remember what I - the last thing I said before... ”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

Dani felt Jamie pull back slightly and shifted her hand from Jamie’s head to her back. Jamie kept her arms around her neck, and Dani was relieved to find her crooked smile still in place. She was even blushing slightly. Intrigued, Dani tried to remember herself, but Jamie beat her to it.

“‘Wash behind your ears.’”

Dani laughed. It came back to her now. Jamie had worn her hair in a bun while she’d worked and managed to smudge dirt behind both of them.

“Right. Sorry.”

Jamie, laughing too, cocked her head.

“Why?”

Dani cleared her throat.

“Well, it’s not exactly - I mean, if that really had been the last thing I’d said to you... ”

Jamie shrugged.

“I liked it. It was sweet. Short ’n sweet.”

Dani smiled, feeling her eyes tear up again. It was a good thing to know, she thought. And then she felt her smile fade. Jamie must’ve seen it.

“Like you.”

Dani felt her smile return and her cheeks blush. Normally, she was the one who got all corny, but...

“Don’t.”

Dani giggled. Jamie was trying hard to keep a straight face but now blushing furiously. Dani glanced to their left. The kids were gone — though even if they hadn’t been, the way they were already holding each wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.

She wasted no time turning back for a kiss, which Jamie eagerly returned her until she pulled back, giggling herself. Then, they just looked at each other for a few moments, both giggling, until Jamie cleared her throat.

“I know we have to eat.” Dani nodded. “But while we’re here... ”

Jamie jerked her head back. Dani immediately pulled away, beaming, and ran back to her swing.

“You’re on!”

She sat down and turned to find Jamie sitting down with much more dignity, eyebrow raised.

“S’not a sport, Poppins.”

Dani smirked.

“It is the way I do it.”

Jamie chuckled and faced forward.

“All right, then. Loser has to pay for dinner... Dani?”

Dani was already a few swings in, gaining speed and momentum by the second, when she saw Jamie turn to her in her periphery.

“Dani!”

Dani laughed as she saw Jamie kickoff.

“Never said we had to wait to start!”

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obxparadise · 4 years

Text

Cop Car

JJ Maybank x Reader

Word count: 1,354

~A fic based on the song Cop Car by Keith Urban/Sam Hunt~

A/N: If you like this, leave a comment!

*GIF is not mine. Credit goes to the owner*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Man, they weren't playin They sure put those cuffs on quick You tried to sweet talk 'em They didn't fall for it, but I did

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Regret was the only word that wasn’t apart of JJ’s vocabulary. Whatever he did, he did with purpose. With reason. With pride. And he never regretted a damn thing, even after some Kook had called the cops on him for pulling a gun on Topper at the Boneyard.

JJ didn’t even have the chance to run as he’d been surrounded by three different police vehicles. Trying to fight law enforcement wasn’t the brightest idea either, as he now was sporting a busted lip, bruised ribs, and a torn white shirt.

In the back of the cop car, JJ sat with his head against the driver’s seat headrest, his blonde hair sticking out in every which way. The cops had done a number on him, and every time the car drove over a bump in the road, the pain in JJ’s ribs would start up again. Biting his lip, he tried to redirect his thoughts away from the pain.

“Where’d you get the gun, son?” asked Officer Shoupe. Chuckling softly to himself, JJ shook his head. There was no way in hell he would open his mouth. The cops in the OBX couldn’t be trusted. JJ learned that the hard way. “I said, where did you get the gun?”

“I have the right to remain silent,” JJ reminded, lips pulling into a smirk as Shoupe and his partner, Deputy Thomas shared an irritated look. “Ain’t that what you told me?”

“You keep actin’ out, you’ll end up just like your daddy,” Thomas remarked, hoping to rile up the sixteen-year-old boy. It didn’t though. After enduring years of abuse from his father, JJ became desensitized to comments about his dad. Letting things roll off his shoulders was better than dwelling on feelings and trying to make sense of them, at least in JJ’s mind.

“Hold on, Thomas,” Shoupe said, quieting his partner as he turned up the volume on the radio. Leaning forward, JJ could only hear bits of the dispatcher.

Robbery at Denny’s…unarmed female…seventeen…black tank top, white shorts…

Shoupe and Thomas eyed each other momentarily before pulling into the Denny’s parking lot which they had been conveniently driving by. Shoupe put the car in park before turning around, “This ain’t gonna take long. Don’t try anything stupid.”

JJ snickered as the two officers stepped out of the vehicle. “No promises, buddy.”

Not even five minutes later, JJ’s head perked up at the commotion out front of Denny’s. Almost instantly, his cheeks flushed a deep red as Deputy Thomas pushed you into the car, slamming the door behind him. JJ happily drank in the sight of you, slightly embarrassed that his cargo shorts had constricted. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? What’s your name, baby?”

Clenching your jaw, you eyed the smirking blonde beside you. JJ Maybank. The devilishly handsome Pogue with anger management problems and daddy issues. He was notorious for smoking weed, fishing, and stealing. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into this time?

“Y/N,” Not wanting to make small talk with a known criminal, you leaned forward toward Deputy Thomas. “Officer, is this really necessary?”

“You stole from the store,” Thomas answered.

“It was a candy bar,” you retorted, wriggling your wrists in the handcuffs. “And I said I was going to pay for it, I just didn’t have enough cash.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken it,” JJ piped up, flashing a bright smile. “If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime, princess.”

“It was for a child,” you said, teeth gritted together. “I was waiting for my brother to bring me a dollar.” As both officers ignored you, you leaned in closer, softening your voice. “Look, I really am sorry, okay? The little girl was upset and I just wanted to see her smile. This is all just one big misunderstanding.”

JJ eyed you curiously when you shot a wink his way. For a brief moment, his pulse quickened. Were they actually going to let you go?

“Sorry, kid,” Shoupe replied. Groaning, you sat back against the seat, your attempt at sweet-talking the officers one big failure.

“I’ll be damned,” JJ laughed, causing you to let out your own. “You had me fooled.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But there was somethin' bout the way The blue lights were shinin' Bringing out the freedom in your eyes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JJ was captivated. The whole way to the station, his eyes stayed glued to your face, which was solemnly pressed up against the window. The black bandana around your head kept the curls away from your cheeks, giving JJ the chance to appreciate your beauty. You were stunning, no doubt about that, but there was something about the way the bright blue cop lights brought out a twinkle in your eyes that kept JJ staring. He could almost see through you, into your free-spirited soul. You weren’t a Pogue, but your personality didn’t scream Kook either. You were somewhere in the middle, and JJ was overcome with a sudden itch to get to know you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We talked, we laughed We sat real close By the time they let us go I was already gone

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait, you brought a gun to a party?” You asked, rolling your eyes as JJ gave you a proud nod. “Are you insane?”

“Insane is my middle name,” JJ gloated. “And besides, the douche had it coming. He tried to drown my best friend. That shit won’t fly with me. And apparently,” JJ nodded toward the two officers, “Bringing a gun to a party doesn’t exactly fly with asshole 1 and 2 up front either or else I wouldn’t be here.”

You giggled as Shoupe and Thomas exchanged irritated glances, clearly fed up with JJ’s antics. Turning back to JJ, you noticed he wasn’t trying to hide his staring. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Not my lips, sadly,” Warmth crept up your neck as JJ laughed, running his tongue along his lower lip. “Sorry, it’s just…I can’t help but think you and I come from two different worlds. Here I am being arrested for possession of a weapon, and you’re being arrested for having a heart of gold.”

Your heart skipped a beat as JJ offered a shy smile. Boldly, you scooted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind though, as his cheek lay against the top of your head, staying in that position until you arrived at the police district.

You were let go almost immediately, but JJ had a harder time of convincing the officers to let him go. After twenty minutes, JJ was able to talk himself out of jail time. How he did it, he was clueless, but he wasn’t going to dwell on it. Instead, he ran out of the district as fast as he could, almost colliding with you.

“They let you go?” Grinning, JJ grabbed you in a hug. “How in the hell did you pull that off?”

JJ set you down before massaging his wrists. “Don’t ask questions, baby, just be glad I did.”

“Well,” you said, hands slapping against your thighs, “It’s been quite an adventure, but it looks like it’s the end for us.”

Pushing his hands deep in his pockets, JJ stepped forward, a gleam in his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“What?” your brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I want to see you again,” JJ admitted. He was smitten with you, and if he were being honest, he didn’t want the night to end. Your smile was beautiful, your laugh was contagious, and you had a sense of freedom that drew JJ closer to you. “What do you say?”

With a new sense of confidence, you grabbed JJ’s hand, pressing a quick kiss to his bruised cheek. Smirking, you looked at the troubled boy who, if you learned anything about him that night, was a sweetheart under all the rough layers. “What kind of trouble are we getting into next?”

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weirdagnes · 4 years

Text

💄RUDOLF’S DRAG RACE AU 🏁

ALRIGHT SO this AU originally started in our Yeah We Outlasting discord server, artists started drawing the characters in drag and I WOKE HMSHD real shit man. So I'm making a masterpost for drag au on behalf of the server✊✊

Outlast 1 = Season 1

Outlast 2 = Season 2

Whistleblower DLC = All Stars

All of the characters and ideas for the characters were written in collab with @gothivican, @panopt1c0n, @grahaam and the rest of the lads in the server, y’all have such beautiful brains. So anyways.

Here are the judges:

Rudolf Wernicke. Lowkey bias, literally goes to the backstage and tells Miles to beat Billy Hope in a lipsync because Billy can't continue on the show for some reason. Has favoritism towards Blaire, but was forced to sashay him away by the other two judges. Also this bitch is dying, literally has a breathing tank support behind his chair.

Pauline Glick. A very sharp critic. Wore the same shoes? Call out. Oh that's your signature makeup? UGLY tone it down. Sorry, the colors don't match, you'll be in the bottom two for that.

Paul Marion. The kindest judge. He will give constructive criticism in the nicest non-offensive way possible and compliment them after (because he would feel guilty about it).

Alice as guest star. Supportive as f u c k, huge fan, she cries when meeting the queens in Untucked. She can't help complimenting the queens every 10 seconds, she gives off the Leslie Jones’ enthusiasm.

Lisa Park as guest star. Like Alice, very supportive. She’s an artist, and will break down all the reasons why they are so good from an artist’s perspective. Crushes HARD on Wyssle Blower, she might’ve given her number after the show.

Lynn Langermann as guest star. She’s a judge, and she will judge. Gives out well constructed criticisms to all queens fair and square until she saw Angel Fromm (Blake) and just says “Wow what’s there to criticize?” Sallyzekiel hates her, Valentina and Angel on the other hand loves her very much.

Here are the queens:

Miles Upshur as Kill-O-Meter. Primarily an insult comedy and rocker queen, and specializes in dancing. She tends to be criticized for a lack of glamour on some of her main stage looks, and is one of the most dramatic, sarcastic and shady queens of the bunch. Can and will stomp on you in latex boots for money. Besties with Wyssle and Chrisel, gets into a little heated talks with (occasionally) Peacock, (frequently) Ricky and Remy. She adores Cheets’ (Pyro) makeup skills. Winner of season 1 babey!!

Chris Walker as Piggy Chrisel. A punk/grunge queen who seems to specialize moreso in dancing and lip syncing. She's a shy, gentle giant, has a little trouble speaking coherently and it affects her in the acting/impromptu comedy challenges. She will call out whores though, she will kick ass when the situation calls for it. Really good at makeup, makeup girl-friends with Cheeto and besties with Kill O Meter (Latrila vibes). Also a perfectionist and hates mess on her work table.

Rick Trager as Ricky Trix. Whore, that's all. This bitch OBNOXIOUS and shady but she's both a glamour AND comedy queen, the other queens are watching out for her since day one. Horror and '80s inspired queen, extremely good at comedy and acting and will literally stomp the competition with nearly perfect impressions and extremely expressive acting. The downfall for her seems to be glam on the occasion and singing. Rivals with Kill O Meter and Miss Tini, kikis with Remy (they throw shade to other queens the moment they get em)

Father Martin as Miss Tini. The oldest queen but she can still serve the cakes. Generally a kind person, coming from a religious background. She’s takes the drag culture religiously. She gets along with The Twinks.

The Twins as The Twinks. Was recruited as two totally separate queens, but both quit on the first episode when one of the twins were to be eliminated. The queens tell the Twinks apart by who’s bald and who’s not. They don’t vibe with other queens except Miss Tini.

Pyromaniac as Cheeto de LaFlammeo. Queen of Makeup, she has some serious skill range on it. Good in the acting department, always plays as the tragic character. Was rivals with Kill-O Meter before, but one time when she had a breakdown, Kill-O Meter was by her side when no one was. After that, they respected each other.

Billy Hope as Billy Willy. CLOWN QUEEN, huge Crystal Methyd vibes. She’s the youngest queen, very energetic, a ball of SUNSHINE but Wernicke was a bias bitch and sent her home immediately the moment she was in the bottom. She was basically Kill-O Meter and Wyssle Blower's drag child. Hailed as Miss Congeniality, is voted by majority to return for a season 2 for going home a little too early than people feel was deserved. Best at makeup and outfits, her mom Tiffany taught her to sew and make dresses out of rags and other unconventional materials and the skill proved to be helpful. Also she likes puns and everyone likes playing with her name like: Silly Billy Willy, Witty Billy Willy, etc.

....

Waylon Park as Wyssle Blower. The Mom of the queens, the most well rounded queen, and the most 'fishy' one. Probably the smartest and most humble one out of everyone, she can read through people’s bullshit well. Genuinely looks like a girl in full drag, but always does her best on acting. She's serving you a cute, nerdy and quirky style, but can serve horror when need be. Always wins the mini challenges, she's not as loud as the other girls but she does beat Blaire in a lip sync (lowkey badass lipsyncer). Winner of All Stars babey

Jeremy Blaire as Remy Coco Ainée. Pretentious fake ass queen, even her drag name is just Cocaine in fake French. A pure fashion glamour queen, she serves it at almost all the fashion challenges but there's no more personality out of her other than that and her shady attitude (she will not hold back on the shade). Is extremely horrible at singing (her voice cracks) and acting, goes home against a lip sync with Wyssle. This bitch will FLEX her wins. Kikis with Ricky, mainly rivals with Kill O Meter, Wyssle and Peacock but she made everyone her rivals bc of her bitchass attitude.

Eddie Gluskin as Edna Taylor. Fashion queen, specializes in sewing, acting and singing, but is extremely lacking in the dancing department. Has a one-sided endearment for Waylon, and consistently tries to have her attention. Is extremely manipulative too, trying to consistently trip the other queens up. Also everybody hates her mohawk signature wig but nobody says anything about it because they don’t want to be victim to Edna’s mind games.

Frank Manera as Hanni Canni Bahl. Horror queen, best at comedy and dancing. Though it is prohibited, she’s able to sneak in weed, coke (for Ricky) and snacks in the werk room. Very messy when working, her discarded fabrics are EVERYWHERE and Chrisel is fighting the urge to clean it up. She eats while working when the camera’s off, and it stains the dress she’s working on (Pauline notices it).

Dennis as Denise. Mocked as “Edna’s little helper” as she always helps with her dresses. She’s trying too hard to impress Edna, and helps her get Wyssle’s attention. Very talented in acting and sewing, but bland in fashion, lacking in concept. Her inner conflict is what got her eliminated.

Simon Peacock as Julie Peacock. Rebellious, mischievous, and an ex-glam queen gone horror and campy instead. After being insulted much by glam queens (ahemRemyahem), she just embraced it and became a horror queen, serving the judges her horror aesthetic. Best at comedy, lacks extremely on acting and dancing though. No one is safe from her constructive criticism, and she will never stop ranting to Kill O Meter and Wyssle about Remy and Ricky being bad bitches and favored by Wernicke, she thinks it's unfair.

....

Blake Langermann as Angel Fromm. Singing queen!! Good at singing, but otherwise is moreso well-rounded, she might've been eliminated earlier, hadn't it been for her also low-key successful and iconic lip syncs. But the lucky winning streak didn't last forever, she goes home later in the season because she's slowly falling behind the other queens and can't keep up anymore. Has Rococo aesthetic, unfortunately the outfits can't make up for the lack of character as a queen. Though she needs a lot of improvement, the guest star Lynn adores her very much.

Val as Valentina. Queen of SEX or moreso impersonations and comedy. She’s a terrible tailor, but likes unconventional and simple fashion designs. She’s trans and lowkey Pauline has a crush on her the moment she walked on that stage. Pure rivals with Sallyzekiel, you know that iconic Aja vs. Valentina in Untucked? They had that moment. Probably goes home earlier, not entirely prepared, but still was a season icon. Definitely dropped it low about 10 times on her lip sync.

Marta as ImMartal. GOTH QUEEN, survived about early mid season. Best at her makeup and looks, glam queen, but the judges criticize her for wearing the same wigs/having the same hairstyle for almost every looks.

Nick Tremblay as Nicky Lanterns. Another gentle giant. Very introverted, she has a difficult time socializing with other girls because she’s generally not a very loud person. Really bad at makeup, her fashion sense is somewhat okay but it’s always on the ‘safe’ level. Pretty good at slapstick comedy, writing and concepts tho. It’s a wonder how Nicky and Lard Imp became “friends,” they’re complete opposites.

Laird Byron as Lard Imp. Whore, Exhibit B. Extremely rude, louder than Remy and Ricky themselves, and has a weird love/hate obsession with Angel for some reason. Everyone hates her, even Rudolf himself, and Lard Imp isn’t her original drag name but ultimately they came to a point where they just called her Lard Imp. Constantly denies the judges’ and the queens’ critiques, very delusional about winning the season and that’s why she’s the first one eliminated.

Sullivan Knoth as Sallyzekiel. The Big Bad Bitch of the season. Ultimate rivals with Valentina, constantly bullies Angel. Marta used to be friends with her, but after talking shit on Valentina, she says fuck you and defended Val. Glam queen, has an affinity for shoes but damn girl terrible makeup and padding. Really good with speech, acting and impromptu.

So far, here are the character designs we have made!

(1) Blake and Trager by @/pan0pt1con

(1, 2, 3, 4, 5) Waylon, Chris, Simon, Eddie, Miles and Jeremy by @/gothivican

(1) Billy, Miles, Chris, Wernicke, Pauline, Paul and Alice by @/weirdagnes

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boykisserbuckley · 4 years

Text

Bowlerama

911 week day two: “you scared the shit out of me” + fun

also on AO3

Hen finds Buck in the locker room, leaned up against the wall. She’s looked all over the station for him, hoping to catch him before their next call, but apparently, he’s been hiding.

“—I just don’t want to make things weird,” Hen hears, and realizes as she’s a step away from the door that he’s on the phone.

“No, no, of course I’d be happy to see them,” Buck is saying, “It’s just...a lot. You know that.”

Who’s he talking to?

“Maddie,” he whines, and okay, that answers that question. “We always argue.”

Hen hates to pry, so she turns to go, hoping he won’t make his escape before she can ask him what she’s been meaning to. She doesn’t want to intrude on a private conversation.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s why you told me ahead of time, I get it,” Buck mutters, sounding a little bitter. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Alright, yeah. Talk to you later. Love you.”

Just as Hen is heading for the stairs to the loft, she hears him quietly end the call, and there—that’s her chance. She whirls around, smile growing, to see him stepping out of the locker room. He’s got his head down and his shoulders are a little tense, which makes her wonder what that phone call had been about. Hen always hates seeing him so down.

“Hey,” she starts, and he startles, jumping back a little with a hand to his chest.

“Hen!” He exclaims, and then a sheepish smile spreads across his face, “You scared the shit out of me.”

"Didn't think I looked that bad today, Buckaroo," Hen jokes. Buck laughs.

"I just didn't see you," he says.

"Maybe if you picked your head up once in a while, you would've," Hen tilts her head at him, her voice softening, "You alright?"

"'Course I am," Buck replies easily, "Just baby shower stuff. You know how Maddie gets."

"That I do," Hen drawls. His deflection isn't entirely convincing, but she's willing to let it drop for now, as long as he'll take her up on her next offer. "I was gonna ask, actually, did you want to come out with me tonight? Karen and I promised Denny bowling, and he's been asking when he's gonna get to see you."

"Uh, sure," he agrees, looking genuinely pleased at the offer, to her delight, "That sounds fun, Hen."

"Great! Karen and I can pick you up later, if you want? No need for us both to drive."

"Yeah, thanks," Buck says. He scrunches his nose up a little and admits, "I'm not too great at bowling, though."

"Neither am I," Hen chuckles, and gives him a pat on the shoulder, "Karen is gonna win every time, no question." .

"And I'm sure she'll be smug about that forever, right?"

"Oh, absolutely. I'll swing by at seven?"

Buck grins, just as the alarm sounds. He bumps shoulders with her gently on the way out and then they're off to the trucks, his tense mood from before nearly forgotten.

When Hen pulls into the parking lot of Buck’s building, a few hours after their shift ends, she’s hoping she can manage to brighten his mood up a bit more. She’s not going to ask about the phone call, because it’s not her business, but she’s got Denny on board with making sure Buck has a night of fun—even if he’s as terrible at bowling as he says he is, she knows Denny never fails to cheer him up. The two boys love each other. It’s adorable.

“Hop in,” Hen calls to him, when she spots him making his way over to the car.

“Hey Denny, Karen,” he greets as he pulls open the side door, sliding in beside Denny in the back. Karen smiles at him in the rearview mirror, watching as he bumps fists with Denny and makes a little explosion noise as he pulls back, fingers splayed. Denny copies him.

“Hey, Buck,” she replies, “you ready to lose to me tonight?”

Buck smiles. He’s definitely less tense than before, Hen can see that.

“Absolutely,” he says, and Denny giggles beside him. Karen laughs too, and Hen thinks to herself, this’ll work.

She’s right, of course. Buck laughs his way through a handful of games, losing every time. He even challenges Karen to a one-on-one, though Hen suspects that he only does it so he can pay for their fries at the concession stand without one of them protesting. She beats him soundly, and he makes sure to buy extra for Denny. It’s nice. It’s fun. It works. By the time they’re cashing out for their last game and getting ready to head home, Buck is back to his bouncing, bubbly self, relaxed and happy.

“Thanks, Hen,” he says, quiet and sincere, as they trail out of the bowling alley behind Denny and Karen, “I think I needed this. It was fun.”

“Anytime, Buckaroo,” Hen answers, “You know I’ve got your back.”

Buck beams at her, and she thinks, yep, that definitely worked.

(buy me a coffee?)

#yes this is late i know #i wanted it to be longer but i hate it so i gave up #911week2020 #i did my best #hen wilson #evan buckley #karen wilson #b!writes

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pinespittinink · 4 years

Text

If My OCs Were In A Dating Sim...

Who would you choose? Your pick from 11 potential routes! I thought this would be a fun way to know ocs a little more. Feel free to make your own and tag me in them~~

Victory

meet-cute where you literally crash into each other, knocking him off his bike

he’s incredibly apologetic, worried he’s hurt you and you fall in love instantly

he works in a flower shop and sends you very cute texts and animal pics and neat facts about plants, laden with emojis

hand-holding dates around the park lead to playing with each other’s hair and him teaching you to make daisy chains

soft love confessions come at home under fairy lights in a pillow fort

kisses in the rain

the original romantic boyfriend route

Enfriator

she’s your personal trainer at the gym

looks aces in a sports bra, you try and fail not to stare at her abs, and it’s a growing problem whenever she helps you with your lifts and spots you

maybe you have a strength kink

she’s picked up on it too, but will never let you know beyond the odd smug look

she agrees to get a smoothie one afternoon and you start hanging out, playing chess and Overwatch (she beats you. always)

long quiet times slumped together on the couch turn into slowly opening up to each other emotionally

you catch her with heart eyes from time to time and tease her about it

Aubra

the lacrosse jock himbo of your dreams

he’s a golden retriever whenever he sees you, equipment falling left and right

can haul you over his shoulders with ease

friends to lovers

you go to pride together

he’s a sweet fumbling flirt who occasionally drops a smooth move leaving you weak at the knees

is oblivious to the fact that you like him in return, brags about being your best friend

Domini

sweaty grinding dancing at the club

you fuck the first night

he’s a grungy hot shit fuckboy with jealousy issues, rattling self-esteem, and the tact of a teaspoon.

he’ll follow you around like a mangy dog if you give him attention

you cheer him on while he gets his ass handed to him in a denny’s parking lot

don’t date this man unless you want to roll around in garbage with him, get drunk, and press a bag of frozen peas to his black eyes inflicted through his own awful decision making

Solene

you haven’t been able to get a hold of a particular book because some asshole keeps renewing it week after week so you track it to the library hermit

he looks like he lives in the gutter and steals couch covers from the goodwill donation bins

unsurprisingly, he refuses to give up the book, so you insist on sharing it

turns out he’s actually very witty and has the driest sense of humor

he also survives off of the library vending machines

you slowly grow fond of him, bringing him snacks, spending nights stargazing on the roof

will-they-won’t-they tension ultimately culminates in him slyly revealing his attraction and fucking in the library stacks

Moses

you start talking to him at a party when you notice he’s alone in the corner

he’s taciturn and Awkward and endearing

blushes every time you compliment him, constantly tries to leave

will memorize your schedule and wait for you without prompting

you kiss his cheek once and he runs away and leaves you on read for two weeks

eventually he grows a backbone and comes back into your social sphere

you mention a scarf you like at one point and he saves up pennies to buy it and turns into a tomato when he gives it to you

his route is a lot of patience and a lot of work

Eaves

daycare worker who you become very quickly smitten with

he’s great with kids, humble, and charming

the ultimate gentleman

walks you home after your dates, gives you a kiss at the door

cooks dinner for you, brings you breakfast in bed

he refuses any kind of charity for his poor family, determined to get by on hard work

works a million jobs

you help him realize he doesn’t have to do it alone and it’s okay to have the support of other people every once and a while

Addie

loud aries lesbian

arcade champion until you come along and challenge her scores

rivals to lovers in a firecracker romance

she’ll show up at your house at four in the morning to drag you out on an adventure that might not be entirely legal and usually results in you running from the cops

a kitchen disaster when she helps you cook, flour everywhere

popcorn fights during movie nights

big promposal type love confession, very bombastic

Mateo

your soft spoken biology TA who tutors you

he’s a nursing student and works nights, perpetually sleepy

his affection is very subtle and genuine

brings you your coffee and smiles when you’re flustered

takes you on dates to botanical gardens and science museums and aquariums

gentle good morning texts

sometimes sends you quotes or bits of poetry he likes

Daemyung

you work at the clinic where he brings his dog

he’s cranky and removed

you like Molly more than him until you see how much he really loves her

bonding over late night walks and philosophical discussions

you share a blunt once, ending in shotgunning until you notice his dog watching and awkwardly break apart

he opens up about being a distant only child and shying away from intimacy

kinky af when you eventually get it on

Phaedron

modern art student

has a reputation as a no-strings-attached hookup

you fail to have no-strings-attached

he’s very humbled when you ask him out on a date and confesses that no one’s ever shown an interest in him beyond sleeping together

you woo him with boxes of candied fruit slices and chocolates and chai lattes

date nights in consist of take-out and chatting over whatever’s playing in the background on netflix

he sits in your lap constantly, falls asleep with his head against your shoulder

tells you he loves you mid-fuck

Emerson

the TA in the medieval lit class you took for a required English credit

way more attractive than any English TA has the right to be

you run into him at a frat party and do a double take because you almost don’t recognize him

he’s got a screwdriver in one hand and an empty Long Island iced tea in the other but he’s amazingly standing coherent and excitedly arguing about the merits of Stargate Atlantis

you hook up and end up spending winter break together in his apartment eating chocolate graham crackers

bike dates for coffee and visiting the city duck ponds

you get to ride him on the couch while he wears his unzipped totoro kigurumi

#writeblr #ask memes #writeblr game #oc ask game #i was inspired by the ask of the same nature: so i just added routes so people weren't flying blind #mp #edit: i had to add emerson

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bookdancerfics · 4 years

Text

words like physics (an unstoppable force), a 9-1-1 fic

Summary: Hen and Buck end up dangling over a cliff, with Buck only holding onto Hen, but she can’t hold on to the cliff side forever. Buck thinks the solution is an easy one; Hen disagrees.

Series Summary: 5 times Buck prioritizes his family’s wellbeing over his own, and the 1 time they help him prioritize himself.

Relationships: Evan “Buck” Buckley & Henrietta “Hen” Wilson

also available on ao3 and ff.net

Series: checking vital signs, part one, part two (this fic), part three (yet to be posted) / six parts

The next time the 118 go out for “team bonding,” Hen is going to automatically veto anything Buck suggests. It’s the only thing, she figures, that will prevent situations like this one: where she and Buck are hanging over a cliff’s edge, no footholds in reach, with their team members waiting for them back at the trail’s parking lot and their phones sitting tantalizingly close by, where Hen had recommended putting them so they wouldn’t accidentally drop them over the edge. Little did she know that the edge of the trail would end up dropping out from under them, reminiscent of the hiker who Buck still insisted had a ghost call 911. The entire situation is so ridiculous that if she didn’t know any better, she’d think someone was making the whole thing up.

And yet, here they are.

She clutches Buck’s hand tighter when she feels it slip a little. She has one hand on the short chain that had served as a barrier between the trail and the cliff’s edge, although it hadn’t done much in keeping her and Buck from sliding when the whole thing went. Now it’s the only thing keeping them from dropping several hundred feet, although the loose dirt at the top doesn’t give Hen any confidence in its stability, especially not since the skinny stakes it’s connected to are now parallel to the earth. She doubts the stakes or chain had a good foundation to begin with, and her and Buck’s weight is only making it worse. Her hand not holding the chain grips Buck’s, and in return, his “free” hand grasps her wrist. Although the cliffside is close enough to Hen to press against her chest, it turns into an overhang at her ribs, and her legs and Buck’s whole body swing out in empty air.

She grunts, doing her best to tighten her grip on the chain in an attempt at establishing a more secure hold. It’s rusted, red dust flaking off under her palm, but it beats the alternative of a slippery new chain.

“Hen,” Buck says, his voice more serious than normal.

She shakes her head. “Sorry, Buckaroo, but it’s not happening.”

He’s silent, and then—“How’s the adoption process going?”

“What?” She risks moving just to stare at him, and he stares back up at her, his lips twitching.

“What’d you think I was going to say?”

Hen huffs and tightens her grip on his hand. “Nothing, just think this is a strange place to start a game of twenty questions.”

He grins, and if Hen doesn’t look above his nose she can pretend that it reaches his eyes. “It’s a beautiful day, Hen. Nice and peaceful, no one yelling at us to clean the truck. Even the sun is out. Where else would you want to talk about your future kid?”

Hen rests her cheek against the cliffside. It stings, and she knows that she scraped it up when they first fell, but it’s a reprieve from having to hold up her head in addition to Buck’s weight and hers.

“We met this little girl last week. She’s eight.”

“Eight, huh? Probably going through a creative phase if she’s anything like Chris.”

Hen manages a weak smile. “Her brother’s eight, too.”

For the first time since they fell, Buck frowns. “But Denny’s not—”

Hen grins at him as his jaw drops.

“Twins?!”

“Yeah,” Hen says. She readjusts her grip on the chain just a fraction and tightens her hold on Buck. “Crazy, right? Karen’s uh…” She clears her throat, then coughs. “Karen said she was going to go visit them again today, see if they’re ready to meet Denny.”

“Hen, that’s awesome,” Buck says, and even if Hen weren’t looking at him, she knows she’d hear him beaming through his voice.

“Thanks.”

Buck squeezes her hand and his smile finally drops. “Do you want to try again?”

As much as Hen wishes he were still talking about adoption, or even the IVF process, she knows he’s not. But she remembers the last time they tried, how Buck’s grip had transferred to her shirt and their combined weight had become more centered, more focused, as he tried to climb up her to reach the cliff’s edge. And even though she wants to reach her family, wants to at least go down fighting, she shakes her head. “Last time the shift in weight almost made the whole thing come down. I don’t think we can risk it.”

Buck nods, and they’re both silent for the next couple minutes.

“Try yelling again,” Hen says finally.

Buck glances up at her. “You have a good grip?”

She nods.

“Okay, then,” he says, and his own hold on her hand tightens as he raises his face to the cliff’s edge and screams for the rest of their team. He yells for Cap first, then Chimney, and finally Eddie, until they know for sure that no one else is in range.

“They’ll be here eventually,” Hen says. The thought is heavy, though, almost as heavy as her and Buck’s combined weight, and she tightens her hold on the chain so much that her fingernails dig into her palm.

“But not fast enough,” Buck replies, and Hen looks at him sharply. He stares up at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “We both know it, Hen. Just as we both know the only way out of this.”

“Sure,” Hen answers, ignoring what he obviously wants her to say. “Except physics doesn’t work that way when the contact point is so unstable. Swinging you up will only drop us both.”

“Hen,” Buck says, and it’s the same serious tone he’d used before asking her about the adoption process, back when they both knew what he was going to suggest until she shut him down.

“I mean it, Buck,” she says. “So don’t even think about it. I’ll never forgive you otherwise.”

“Henrietta,” he says, and she squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head as best she can against a cliffside.

“No,” she insists.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

In the next moment she can feel him prying at her fingers, but she just tightens them more, digs and digs and digs until she has rust under the nails of one hand and blood under the nails of the other.

“Hen, please!” he says, begging, but she won’t let go of his hand and she’s proved it now.

“No!” she yells at him. “So help me, Buck, we’re both making it out of this or I swear I’ll—”

They both freeze at the same time, staring at each other. In the distance, there’s a bird squawking, the whistle of the wind over the cliff, and along the path—

“Did you hear that?” Hen whispers, and Buck nods, utterly still now.

“Hen?” The call is faint, coming from far away, and Buck’s mouth hasn’t moved. “Buck?”

“Here!” she yells. “Chimney, we’re here!”

A couple minutes later, she hears the pounding of boots along the trail, and she and Buck scream for them until Bobby, Chim, and Eddie’s faces pop over the edge.

“Hey,” she manages, breathless but still smiling at them. “We’d love some help.”

“No kidding,” Chimney says, his eyes wide. “What even happened?”

“Tell you after,” Buck calls.

Hen tightens her hold on him instinctively, feeling her hand start to slip in their combined sweat and literal blood.

“Hurrying would also be nice,” she says.

Buck’s own grip tightens around her wrist, and he shoots her a wry grin. “No worries, I’m not letting go.”

Hen just scowls at him. “Tell that to the you of five minutes ago.”

“Ok, Hen, how much longer do you think you can hold on?” Bobby asks, even as he and Chimney grab the chain to keep it from slipping.

Hen shakes her head. She’s been holding on for so long, now, her whole shoulder feels numb, and she knows her grasp on the chain only lasted till now because of sheer determination and the knowledge that if she fell, then Buck would, too.

“Alright, we don’t have time to get anything from the cars, then. Eddie, grab Hen’s hand. Buck, do you think you can climb up?”

Above her, Eddie lays on his stomach and then gets a good grip on her arm. And below her, Buck starts climbing.

He gets about halfway up before Hen feels her hold on the chain start to go.

“Eddie!” she warns, and the chain slips through her fingers.

“Crap,” Eddie gasps. Hen realizes that she’s involuntarily closed her eyes to everything, and she opens them to find that they’ve dropped further, her and Buck’s combined weight too much even for Eddie, who’s halfway over the cliff himself now. Above him, she can just make out Chimney and Bobby. The two are piled on Eddie, apparently using their own weight to keep him from budging.

“Holy shit,” Buck says, and a strangled laugh escapes Hen in response.

“Please hurry up,” Chimney says, his own voice tight with fear.

“Going,” Buck answers. “I’m going.”

He grabs Hen’s shoulder, heaving himself up just a little further until he can finally reach the hand that Bobby holds down to him. Together, with Buck scrambling for hand and footholds, and Bobby practically doing a one arm bicep curl to help pull him up, they manage to haul him onto solid ground.

“Okay,” Bobby pants, still sprawled on top of Chimney and Eddie. “Now Eddie and Hen.”

Hen somehow manages to hold on even tighter as they pull Eddie’s torso back onto the trail, and then they keep going, dragging Hen up until they’re all collapsed, panting, on solid ground.

“Oh, gosh,” she groans, staring up at the sky as she lays next to her team. “If it wasn’t dirt I’d kiss it.”

There’s silence, and then from a few feet away Buck speaks up, his voice quiet. “… yeah.”

Hen blinks, turns her head until she can look Chimney in the eye, and a beat later they’re all laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Buck says, even as he laughs with them. “Hen was the one who said it!”

Hen just shakes her head, positively cackling now, and clutches at her stomach as it starts to hurt.

“Oh, my abs,” she gasps, and their laughter, which had started to die down, turns into giggles. Hen tries to take a breath in an effort to stop, but they’ve all stumbled right into an infectious laugh-fest, and it’s hard to even breathe at this point, they’re laughing so hard.

“I can’t stop,” Eddie groans.

“Fuck,” Buck says. Someone pounds a fist against the dirt in response, and Hen stares at her team and loses herself to the bliss for a split second.

“We should get away from the edge,” Bobby manages, and in the end that’s what sobers them all up, silence echoing around them as sudden as they had started laughing.

Chimney moves first, getting to his knees and then his feet, and Hen grabs his hand when he offers it, letting him pull her up for the second time that day. Bobby follows, grunting as his knees crack, and normally Hen would laugh at him for it but the humor of the situation has completely fled the scene. All Hen can think about now is what almost happened, what would have happened if Buck had made his move a few minutes earlier, or the others had gotten there a few minutes later.

As soon as Eddie and Buck join them all on truly solid ground, Hen turns right around and pokes Buck in the chest as hard as she can. “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

“What?” Chimney asks. “We were just joking around.”

But Buck stares at her, his mouth turned down and his eyes serious, and then nods.

“No,” Hen says, and pokes him in the chest again. “Say it out loud. Let ‘em all know what you were planning on doing.”

“Hen?” Eddie says cautiously. “What’s wrong? You’re both fine. It was just loose dirt, it wasn’t Buck’s fault.”

“Not that,” she says. “And not the joking around, either.” Buck’s gaze goes to the dirt, but she knuckles at his chin, forcing him to look at her again.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But there are records of people surviving twenty thousand foot plus falls, I figured as long as I landed right it’d be fine. Break my legs, sure, but we’d both live.”

Someone takes a sharp breath next to her, but Hen doesn’t bother to see if it was Bobby, Eddie, or Chimney. It doesn’t matter.

“You don’t know that.” Hen grabs Buck’s shoulder and gives it a small shake. “Buck, you don’t know that. Even if you did everything right, you still could’ve died. And if you lived, what? You wanted me to be responsible for you being off team again? I don’t think so. I was ready to hang there as long as it took, you understand me?”

“You couldn’t have supported both of our weight that long,” Buck protests.

Hen shakes her head. “What’d I say about the beat of my own drum?”

Buck finally cracks a smile at that, and Hen claps him on the shoulder in return.

“And hey, Buckaroo,” Hen levels a look at him, then smiles. “You ever call me Henrietta again, you won’t like what I’ll do to your locker.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Buck laughs.

#evan buckley #henrietta wilson #hen wilson #911 on fox #911 fic #911 fanfic #9-1-1 fanfiction #my fic #mine #checking vital signs

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thainews1 · 4 years

Text

Should Your Child Watch TV News? Surprising Opinions of Top Anchors

More than ever, children witness innumerable, sometimes traumatizing, news events on TV. It seems that violent crime and bad news is unabating. Foreign wars, natural disasters, terrorism, murders, incidents of child abuse, and medical epidemics flood our newscasts daily. Not to mention the grim wave of recent school shootings.

All of this intrudes on the innocent world of children. If, as psychologists say, kids are like sponges and absorb everything that goes on around them, how profoundly does watching TV news actually affect them? How careful do parents need to be in monitoring the flow of news into the home, and how can they find an approach that works?

To answer these questions, we turned to a panel of seasoned anchors, Peter Jennings, Maria Shriver, Linda Ellerbee, and Jane Pauley--each having faced the complexities of raising their own vulnerable children in a news-saturated world.

Picture this: 6:30 p.m. After an exhausting day at the office, Mom is busy making dinner. She parks her 9-year-old daughter and 5-year-old son in front of the TV.

"Play Nintendo until dinner's ready," she instructs the little ones, who, instead, start flipping channels.

Tom Brokaw on "NBC News Tonight," announces that an Atlanta gunman has killed his wife, daughter and son, all three with a hammer, before going on a shooting rampage that leaves nine dead.

On "World News Tonight," Peter Jennings reports that a jumbo jetliner with more than 300 passengers crashed in a spinning metal fireball at a Hong Kong airport.

On CNN, there's a report about the earthquake in Turkey, with 2,000 people killed.

On the Discovery channel, there's a timely special on hurricanes and the terror they create in children. Hurricane Dennis has already struck, Floyd is coming.

Finally, they see a local news report about a roller coaster accident at a New Jersey amusement park that kills a mother and her eight-year-old daughter.

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"Dinner's ready!" shouts Mom, unaware that her children may be terrified by this menacing potpourri of TV news.

What's wrong with this picture?

"There's a LOT wrong with it, but it's not that easily fixable," notes Linda Ellerbee, the creator and host of "Nick News," the award-winning news program geared for kids ages 8-13, airing on Nickelodeon.

"Watching blood and gore on TV is NOT good for kids and it doesn't do much to enhance the lives of adults either," says the anchor, who strives to inform children about world events without terrorizing them. "We're into stretching kids' brains and there's nothing we wouldn't cover," including recent programs on euthanasia, the Kosovo crisis, prayer in schools, book- banning, the death penalty, and Sudan slaves.

But Ellerbee emphasizes the necessity of parental supervision, shielding children from unfounded fears. "During the Oklahoma City bombing, there were terrible images of children being hurt and killed," Ellerbee recalls. "Kids wanted to know if they were safe in their beds. In studies conducted by Nickelodeon, we found out that kids find the news the most frightening thing on TV.

"Whether it's the Gulf War, the Clinton scandal, a downed jetliner, or what happened in Littleton, you have to reassure your children, over and over again, that they're going to be OK--that the reason this story is news is that IT ALMOST NEVER HAPPENS. News is the exception...nobody goes on the air happily and reports how many planes landed safely!

"My job is to put the information into an age-appropriate context and lower anxieties. Then it's really up to the parents to monitor what their kids watch and discuss it with them"

Yet a new study of the role of media in the lives of children conducted by the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation reveals that 95% of the nation's children ages 8-18 are watching TV without their parents present.

How does Ellerbee view the typical scenario of the harried mother above?

"Mom's taking a beating here. Where's Dad?" Ellerbee asks.Perhaps at work, or living separately from Mom, or absent altogether.

"Right. Most Moms and Dads are working as hard as they can because we live in a society where one income just doesn't cut it anymore,"

NBC News correspondent Maria Shriver, the mother of four--Katherine, 13, Christina, 12, Patrick, 10, and Christopher, 6--agrees with Ellerbee: "But Moms aren't using the TV as a babysitter because they're out getting manicures!" says the 48-year-old anchor.

"Those mothers are struggling to make ends meet and they do it because they need help. I don't think kids would be watching [as much TV] if their parents were home organizing a touch football game.

"When I need the TV as a babysitter," says Shriver, who leaves detailed TV- viewing instructions behind when traveling, "I put on a safe video. I don't mind that my kids have watched "Pretty Woman" or "My Best Friend's Wedding" 3,000 times. I'd be more fearful if they watched an hour of local news.That would scare them. They might feel: 'Oh, my God, is somebody going to come in and shoot me in my bedroom?'"

In a move to supervise her own children more closely since her husband, Arnold Schwarzenegger, became Governor, Shriver scaled back her workload as Contributing Anchor to Dateline NBC and set up her office at home: "You can never be vigilant enough with your kids," she says, "because watching violence on TV clearly has a huge impact on children--whether it's TV news, movies, or cartoons."

This view is shared by the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, which states: ""TV is a powerful influence in developing value systems and shaping behavior...studies find that children may become immune to the horror of violence; gradually accept violence as a way to solve problems; and resort to anti-social and aggressive behavior, imitating the violence they observe."

Although there are no rules about watching TV in 49% of the nation's households, TV-watching at the Schwarzenegger home is almost totally verboten:

"We have a blanket rule that my kids do not watch any TV at all during the week," she notes, "and having a TV in their bedrooms has never been an option. I have enough trouble getting them to do their homework!" she states with a laugh. "Plus the half hour of reading they have to do every night.

According to the Kaiser survey, Shriver's household is a glaring exception to the rule. "Many kids have their own TV's, VCR's and video games in their bedroom," the study notes. Moreover, children ages 8-18 actually spend an average of three hours and 16 minutes watching TV daily; only 44 minutes reading; 31 minutes using the computer; 27 minutes playing video games; and a mere 13 minutes using the Internet.

"My kids," Shriver explains, "get home at 4 p.m., have a 20-minute break, then go right into homework or after-school sports. Then, I'm a big believer in having family dinner time. Some of my fondest memories are of sitting at the dinner table and listening to my parents, four brothers, and my grandmother, Rose. We didn't watch the news.

"After dinner nowadays, we play a game, then my kids are in bed, reading their books. There's no time in that day for any TV, except on weekends, when they're allowed to watch a Disney video, Sesame Street, Barney, The Brady Bunch, or Pokemon."

Beyond safe entertainment, Shriver has eliminated entirely the option of her children watching news events unfolding live on TV: "My kids," she notes, "do not watch any TV news, other than Nick News," instead providing her children with Time for Kids, [Teen Newsweek is also available], Highlights, and newspaper clippings discussed over dinner.

"No subject should be off-limits," Shriver concludes, "but you must filter the news to your kids."

ABC's Peter Jennings, who reigns over "World News Tonight," the nation's most-watched evening newscast, emphatically disagrees with a censored approach to news-watching: "I have two kids--Elizabeth is now 24 and Christopher is 21-- and they were allowed to watch as much TV news and information anytime they wanted," says the anchor. A firm believer in kids understanding the world around them, he adapted his bestselling book, The Century, for children ages 10 and older in The Century for Young People.

No downside to kids watching news? "I don't know of any downside and I've thought about it many times. I used to worry about my kids' exposure to violence and overt sex in the movies. Like most parents, I found that although they were exposed to violence sooner than I would have liked, I don't feel they've been affected by it. The jury's still out on the sex.

"I have exposed my kids to the violence of the world--to the bestiality of man--from the very beginning, at age 6 or 7. I didn't try to hide it. I never worried about putting a curtain between them and reality, because I never felt my children would be damaged by being exposed to violence IF they understood the context in which it occurred. I would talk to my kids about the vulnerability of children in wartime--the fact that they are innocent pawns-- and about what we could do as a family to make the world a more peaceful place.

Jennings firmly believes that coddling children is a mistake: "I've never talked down to my children, or to children period. I always talk UP to them and my newscast is appropriate for children of any age."

Yet the 65-year-old anchor often gets letters from irate parents: "They'll say: 'How dare you put that on at 6:30 when my children are watching?' My answer is: 'Madam, that's not my problem. That's YOUR problem. It's absolutely up to the parent to monitor the flow of news into the home."

Part of directing this flow is turning it off altogether at meal-time, says Jennings, who believes family dinners are sacrosanct. He is appalled that the TV is turned on during meals in 58% of the nation's households, this according to the Kaiser study.

"Watching TV during dinner is unforgivable," he exclaims, explaining that he always insisted that his family wait until he arrived home from anchoring the news. "You're darn right they waited...even when my kids were tiny, they never ate until 7:30 or 8 pm. Then we would sit with no music, no TV. Why waste such a golden opportunity? Watching TV at mealtime robs the family of the essence of the dinner, which is communion and exchange of ideas. I mean, God, if the dinner table is anything, it's a place to learn manners and appreciation for two of the greatest things in life--food and drink."

Jennings is likewise unequivocal in his view of junk TV and believes parking kids at the tube creates dull minds: "I think using TV as a babysitter is a terrible idea because the damn television is very narcotic, drug-like. Mindless TV makes for passive human beings--and it's a distraction from homework!

"My two children were allowed to watch only a half an hour of entertainment TV per night--and they never had TV's in their bedrooms.It's a conscious choice I made as a parent not to tempt them...too seductive..."

Adds Ellerbee: "TV is seductive and is meant to be. The hard, clear fact is that when kids are watching TV, they're not doing anything else!"

Indeed, according to the National Institute on Out-of-School Time and the Office of Research Education Consumer Guide, TV plays a bigger role in children's lives now than ever before. Kids watch TV an average of14 to 22 hours per week, which accounts for at least 25 percent of their free time.

"Dateline NBC" Anchor Jane Pauley, intensely private, declined an interview to discuss how she and her husband, cartoonist Garry Trudeau ("Doonesbury") handle TV-watching with their three teens, two of whom are fraternal twins. But in a written response, she agreed that kids need to be better protected from the onslaught of violence: "I was a visitor at a public elementary school not long ago, and was invited to peek in on a fourth-grade class on 'current events.' The assignment had been to watch the news and write about one of the stories. Two kids picked the fatal attack on a child by a pit bull and the other wrote about a child who'd hanged herself with a belt! They'd all watched the worst blood and gore 'News at 11' station in town. The teacher gave no hint that she was as appalled as I was. My response was to help the school get subscriptions to "Time for Kids" and "My Weekly Reader." People need to be better news consumers. And tabloid TV is very unhealthy for kids."

On this point, Ellerbee readily agrees:"I really do believe the first amendment STOPS at your front door. You are the boss at home and parents have every right to monitor what their kids watch. What's even better is watching with them and initiating conversations about what they see.If your child is watching something terribly violent, sit down and DEFUSE it. Talking makes the ghosts run...and kids can break through their scared feelings."

Adds Pauly:

"Kids," she maintains, "know about bad news--they're the ones trying to spare us the bad news sometimes. But kids should be able to see that their parents are both human enough to be deeply affected by a tragedy like Columbine, but also sturdy enough to get through it...and on with life. That is the underpinning of their security."

"I'm no expert on the nation's children," adds Jennings, " but I'd have to say no, it wasn't traumatic. Troubling, shocking, even devastating to some, confusing to others, but traumatizing in that great sense, no.

"Would I explain to my kids that there are young, upset, angry, depressed kids in the world? Yes. I hear the most horrendous stories about what's going on in high schools from my kids. And because of the shootings, parents are now on edge--pressuring educators to 'do something.' They have to be reminded that the vast majority of all schools in America are overwhelmingly safe," a fact borne out by The National School Safety Center, which reports that in l998 there were just 25 violent deaths in schools compared to an average of 50 in the early 90's.

Ellerbee adds that a parent's ability to listen is more important than lobbying school principals for more metal detectors and armed guards: "If there was ever a case where grown-ups weren't listening to kids, it was Littleton. First, don't interrupt your child...let them get the whole thought out. Next, if you sit silently for a couple of seconds after they're finished, they'll start talking again, getting to a second level of honesty. Third, try to be honest with your kid. To very small children, it's proper to say: 'This is never going to happen to you...' But you don't say that to a 10-year-old."

Moreover, Ellerbee believes that media literacy begins the day parents stop pretending that if you ignore TV, it will go away. "Let your kid know from the very beginning that he or she is SMARTER than TV: 'I am in control of this box, it is not in control of me. I will use this box as a useful, powerful TOOL, but will not be used by it.' Kids know the difference.

"Watching TV," Ellerbee maintains, "can makes kids more civilized. I grew up in the south of Texas in a family of bigoted people. Watching TV made me question my own family's beliefs in the natural inferiority of people of color. For me, TV was a real window that broadened my world."

Ironically, for Shriver, watching TV news is incredibly painful when the broadcast is about you. Being a Kennedy, Shriver has lived a lifetime in the glare of rumors and televised speculation about her own family. Presenting the news to her children has therefore included explaining the tragedies and controversies the Kennedys have endured. She was just eight years old when her uncle, President John F. Kennedy, was assassinated: "I grew up in a very big shadow...and I couldn't avoid it," she admits. "It wasn't a choker, but it was a big responsibility that I don't want my own children to feel." Yet doesn't her 15- year marriage to megastar Schwarzenegger add yet another layer of public curiosity close to home? "My kids are not watching Entertainment Tonight--no, no, never! And I don't bring them to movie openings or Planet Hollywood. I think it's fine for them to be proud of their father, but not show off about him."

How does she emotionally handle news when her family's in it? "That's a line I've been walking since my own childhood, and it's certainly effected the kind of reporter I've become. It's made me less aggressive. I'm not [in the news business] to glorify myself at someone else's expense, but rather to report a story without destroying someone in the process. A producer might say: 'Call this person who's in a disastrous situation and book them right way.' And I'm like: 'Ahhhh. I can't even bring myself to do it,' because I've been on the other side and know the family is in such pain."

A few years ago, of course, the Kennedys experienced profound pain, yet again, when Shriver's beloved cousin, John F. Kennedy, Jr., was killed in a plane crash, with his wife, Carolyn, and sister-in-law, Lauren Bessette. A blizzard of news coverage ensued, unremitting for weeks. "I didn't watch any of it...I was busy, " Shriver says quietly. "And my children didn't watch any of it either."

Shriver was, however, somewhat prepared to discuss the tragedy with her children. She is the author of the best-selling "What's Heaven?" [Golden Books], a book geared for children ages 4-8, which explains death and the loss of a loved one. "My children knew John well because he spent Christmases with us. I explained what happened to John as the news unfolded...walked them through it as best I could. I reminded them that Mommy wrote the book and said: 'We're not going to see John anymore. He has gone to God...to heaven...and we have to pray for him and for his sister [Caroline] and her children."

Like Shriver, Jennings is personally uncomfortable in the role of covering private tragedies in a public forum: "In my shop, I'm regarded as one of those people who drags their feet a lot at the notion of covering those things," he explains. "During the O.J. Simpson trial, I decided not to go crazy in our coverage--and we took quite a smack and dropped from first to second in the ratings. TV is a business, so when a real corker of a story like Princess Diana's death comes along, we cover it. I think we're afraid not to do it. We're guilty of overkill, and with Diana, we ended up celebrating something that was largely ephemeral, making Diana more than she was. But audiences leap up!

"I was totally opposed to covering John F. Kennedy, Jr.'s funeral, because I saw no need to do it. He wasn't a public figure, though others would say I was wrong. On-air, I said: 'I don't think the young Mr. Kennedy would approve of all this excess...' But we did three hours on the funeral and it turned out to be a wonderful long history lesson about American politics and the Kennedy dynasty's place in our national life.

"Sometimes," Jennings muses, "TV is like a chapel in which we, as a nation, can gather to have a communal experience of loss.We did it with the Challenger, more recently with JFK Jr.'s death and we will do it shortly, I suspect, though I hope not, with Ronald Reagan. It's not much different than what people did when they went West in covered wagons in the last century. When tragedy struck, they gathered the wagons around, lit the fire, and talked about their losses of the day. And then went on. Television can be very comforting."

In closing, Ellerbee contends that you can't blame TV news producers for the human appetite for sensational news coverage that often drags on for days at a time:

"As a reporter," she muses, "I have never been to a war, traffic accident, or murder site that didn't draw a crowd. There is a little trash in all of us. But the same people who stop to gawk at a traffic accident, may also climb down a well to save a child's life, or cry at a sunset, or grin and tap their feet when the parade goes by.

"We are NOT just one thing. Kids can understand these grays...just as there's more than one answer to a question, there is certainly more than one part to you!"

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