#and principal

[nononsenseinthehalls]

[I tried replicating your style :P]

nobody manipulates Here School students and gets away with it >:[

[linktoo-doodles]

aizawa didn't warn shinsou at all

[dapper-lil-arts]

What if Celestia had Whatsapp 🤣🤣🤣

[electraslight]

some lore pages ive made on abomination magic and hexside school respectively!

[bet-on-me-13]

Bruce owes Danny money. He does Not want to pay up.

So! Danny had to run away from Amity Park when his parents discovered his Powers. But every time he tried to stay in a single place in America, they somehow managed to find him.

Turns out, they were working with the GIW to track him using the GIW's resources and the Fenton's Genius to find him everywhere he ran to. Eventually, Danny figured he had had enough and ran to Europe where the GIW had no Jurisdiction.

After wandering for a while, Danny was found and recruited by the League of Assasins. He was powerful, skilled, and connected to the Lazarus Pits, so they approached him with a job offer.

They would hide him from the Fentons, who had began to search for him in Europe independently, and in return he would work for them as an Assasin.

Considering his situation, Danny agreed.

He began training to be an Assasin, supplementing his Ghost Abilities with the abilities of an Assasin to become even more Stealthy.

While training under the League, Danny met another recruit simply known as Bruce. They trained together for years, even going on a few missions together gathering intel, and using disguises to hid in plain sight.

On one of these missions, Danny lent Bruce some money with the promise to get paid back when they returned to the League. That same night, Bruce left the League of Assasins and never came back.

...

Bruce was sitting in the Batcave going over a case with Tim, Jason was off to the side cleaning his Guns, and Dick and Cass were holding an acrobatics competition in their Obstacle Course, with Damien, Steph, and Duke cheering them on.

Suddenly an Eldritch Emerald Light sprang to life in the center of the Batcave, and everybody dropped what they were doing and sprang to action.

Slowly, a glowing green figure emerged from the Light. He appeared Eldritch in Nature, as if he existed in multiple layers of reality at once and looking at him gave them minor headaches. Then, the figure spoke up.

"BRUCE. ITS BEEN 15 YEARS. YOU STILL OWE ME 16 DOLLARS."

Recognizing Danny, Bruce took a moment to compose himself before responding.

"Fuck Off."

[moleshow]

[amirasainz]

hi! i rlly LOVE your works 🥹 you're my favorite author rn!!!! 💕can we get a team principal reader x f1 drivers where she got mad because fia is being unfair to mclaren boys, then she gets protective of the boys during interviews smth like that. then, other drivers were impressed and jealous of mcl boys because they want the same treatment from y/n too hehe. thank u so much & i hope you're having a great dayyy (sorry if there are mistakes. english is not my first language 😅)

Using her voice

The post-qualifying buzz always had its own kind of electric atmosphere. The pit lane was still humming, the smell of burnt rubber clung to the air, and team radios crackled in every direction. Reporters with lanyards were already circling like bees around honey.

And standing at the heart of it all, just outside the McLaren garage, was Yn.

She stood tall — well, tall enough in her stylish orange heels — wearing a fitted, double-breasted blazer dress in McLaren papaya, gold hoop earrings, hair in a sleek ponytail, eyes hidden behind designer sunglasses. She looked like a woman who ran the world.

And, in a way, she did.

At just 22 years old, she was the youngest Team Principal Formula 1 had ever seen. Some laughed when McLaren announced her appointment. But no one was laughing now. Not when she had transformed the garage into a tight-knit family, not when her boys—Lando and Oscar—were pushing the front-runners more than ever.

Not when every driver on the grid would sell their left tire to have her in their garage.

But today?

Today she was pissed.

“Where’s Yn?” Oscar asked, leaning against the wall near the garage, still in his race suit.

Lando was standing next to him, arms crossed. “In a meeting with the stewards. Again.”

Oscar scoffed. “Let me guess. Another bogus penalty?”

“Yup,” Lando replied. “Three-place grid drop for 'blocking' Stroll in Q2. But there’s no footage of it. And no one was even close to him.”

Oscar frowned. “They gave me a track limits warning for going wide in the pit lane. The pit lane, Lando.”

“I swear they just spin a wheel back there with our names on it.”

The garage door opened, and every head turned.

Yn stepped out, and her expression said it all.

Danger.

She took off her sunglasses slowly, dramatically, like she was in a spy movie, and tucked them into the inside pocket of her blazer.

“Boys,” she said, her voice cool but razor-sharp. “We're doing the interview. Now.”

Oscar blinked. “Are you sure? You seem—uh—”

“Furious?” she offered sweetly.

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Just checking you don’t want to cool down first?”

“Oh no,” Yn replied, glancing around as reporters started to gather. “I’m perfectly warm. Let’s give them a show.”

And that’s when every driver in the paddock started paying attention.

Charles was mid-sip of his water when he noticed the gathering. “What’s going on at McLaren?”

“Fireworks,” George murmured, adjusting his Mercedes jacket as he leaned on the railing.

Pierre grinned. “God, she looks like she’s about to go full CEO on the FIA.”

Carlos joined, arms crossed. “I’d kill to be defended like that.”

Even Max, who usually didn’t care much about anything that didn’t directly involve him, raised an intrigued eyebrow from the Red Bull garage.

The crowd of reporters was already surrounding the McLaren garage. Cameras rolled. Microphones were raised. Fans crowded on the opposite side of the barrier, all eyes locked on Yn — who stood between her drivers like a queen with her knights.

Oscar and Lando flanked her like twin towers, both wearing their best don’t mess with us faces. If anyone got too close, they looked ready to bodycheck a reporter into the next century.

The first question was innocent enough.

“Yn, can you explain the FIA’s penalty decision for Lando?”

Yn smiled politely, but her tone was ice with a hint of flame.

“Sure. I’d love to explain. Actually, I’d love for them to explain. Because last I checked, you need evidence to hand out penalties. And unless someone’s hiding a secret camera in the sky, I’d say the footage they reviewed exists purely in someone’s imagination.”

The reporter chuckled nervously. “So… you disagree with the stewards’ call?”

“Oh no, I don’t disagree,” Yn said, tilting her head. “I think it’s adorable they think people won’t notice how utterly irrational their decisions are. Like—what’s the point of rules if they’re going to be applied like we’re playing roulette?”

Oscar coughed to hide a grin. Lando muttered, “Get 'em, boss,” under his breath.

Another reporter tried to cut in. “Do you think McLaren is being targeted?”

Yn’s eyes flashed.

“I think someone is upset that we’re doing well,” she said coolly. “And instead of raising the bar, they’re trying to drag us back down to mediocrity with penalties that don’t make sense, don’t follow precedent, and honestly—look lazy.”

There were several gasps.

Even the Aston Martin garage had gone quiet.

Kimi, who’d wandered by for a snack from the hospitality truck, blinked. “Is it normal to find a Team Principal hot when she’s angry?”

Ollie beside him mumbled, “If it’s wrong, I don’t want to be right.”

A Ferrari mechanic whispered, “I want her to yell at me like that.”

Yn wasn’t done.

“I’m not going to stand by while my drivers are punished for being good. Oscar drove clean. Lando did nothing wrong. So if the FIA wants to penalize us, I suggest they also penalize everyone else who’s ever driven slightly wide, slightly slow, or slightly too perfect.”

Silence.

Then a reporter dared to ask, “And what do your drivers think?”

Lando stepped forward.

“I think Yn’s the best Team Principal I’ve ever worked with.”

Oscar nodded. “She protects us. She believes in us. And we believe in her.”

Yn smiled, proud and fierce, as both boys stood at her side like bodyguards. Their body language screamed: This is our leader. Hurt her, and we’ll fight back.

A few more questions were thrown in, but Yn wrapped it up neatly.

“That’ll be all. I have cars to prepare, engineers to brief, and a team to defend. And trust me—McLaren isn’t backing down.”

She turned, heels clicking sharply on the concrete, both boys following closely behind like an entourage.

Back in the garage, Oscar collapsed onto the nearest chair. “You just ended their whole careers.”

Lando grinned. “Seriously. That was savage. Legendary. Iconic.”

Yn shrugged, tossing her sunglasses back on. “I’m just tired of pretending like I don’t notice the double standards. If they’re going to play games, so can I. Only I play to win.”

The boys looked at her like she’d just walked out of a Marvel movie.

George peeked his head into the garage. “Hey. Just came to say... That was impressive. Very... commanding.”

Charles followed, pretending to check his phone. “Yeah. Um. So… if you’re ever bored of orange, you know, red’s a good color too.”

Pierre winked. “Or blue. Alpine blue is very flattering.”

Max walked in without a word, looked Yn up and down, nodded once, and left.

Oscar raised his eyebrows. “Are we going to have to start putting up a 'No Flirting With Our TP' sign?”

Lando crossed his arms. “I’m getting one printed tonight.”

Yn just smirked, clearly enjoying herself. “Let them look,” she said. “They can admire the view from afar. Because this view? Is McLaren only.”

That night on Twitter:

@F1HotGossip:

MCLAREN TEAM PRINCIPAL YN JUST COOKED THE FIA ALIVE DURING A POST-QUALY INTERVIEW. DRIVERS FROM THREE OTHER TEAMS HAVE ALREADY "CHECKED IN" TO MCLAREN’S HOSPITALITY. 🧡🔥 #QueenYn #PapayaProtectionSquad

@OscarFan81:

She’s 22, dresses like a Vogue cover, defends her boys like a lioness, and terrifies the FIA. This woman is living my dream.

@TheRealLando:

our boss > your boss. stay mad.

Have a good time, everyone! Requests are open for TP reader

[toodymcdoody]

also while we’re at it,

bakugo & his daughter sitting outside the principals office. he’s scrunched up on a small chair in his hero suit , “an emergency” is what the front office said. which, they weren’t wrong. his daughter sitting right next to him, face and lips tight up in a snarl, clearly thinking about the “play ground incident” still.

he reaches over to squeeze her hand. the exchange is wordless but he starts taking dramatic inhales and exhales and she follows. her face relaxes and she left with shoulders hung low.

“how scary is this principal?” he whispers, trying to cheer her up.

“only a little,” she whispers back covering her mouth with one single hand so the ‘others’ can’t see.

soon the door opens and the front desk lady tells them to follow her to the office. they step in and glance over at the bloody lipped student and an equally pissed mom & dad.

the conversation is strained but it happens. the kids shake hands and Bakugo shakes the parents.

it’s not until the parents and bloodied lipped kid leave that you, the principal, stare at the dad and daughter duo.

“what did we learn today?” you ask raising an eyebrow up at them,

“we love you,” they say in unison.

you slowly nod your head while you rub your forehead, and let out a little laugh.

“yea, yea,”

[notbrucewayne48]

"aphobia doesn't exist"

bitch literally not that long ago an aroace youtuber animator was insulted by almost half of its community for being it

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Vibes based grading system.

(for @epistemologys, who wanted some post-canon, teacher WWX)

[zhelin-thames]

Now pay interest - 10% per year

Masterpost

As the Bat-family processed what had just happened, Jason was already plotting.

“So,” Jason began, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “does this mean we have a ghost King in the family now? Because I’ve got so many questions.”

“Focus, Todd,” Damian snapped, though his own curiosity was evident in his furrowed brow. “That... entity was clearly powerful. Father, why did you not inform us of this connection sooner?”

Bruce didn’t even glance up from his computer. “It was irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant?” Dick exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “A glowing ghost guy just popped out of a portal in our cave to collect a debt, and you think it’s irrelevant?”

Tim, typing furiously, pulled up the mission logs from Bruce’s early years. “Okay, I think I found the mission in Prague where this all went down. It says here... wait. Danny wasn’t just some guy you ran into. You trained with him in the League of Assassins?”

Steph leaned over Tim’s shoulder to read. “Wait, what?! He’s an assassin ghost King?”

Jason let out a low whistle. “This just gets better and better.”

Duke raised his hand, hesitant. “Uh, just a thought… if he’s the Ghost King, doesn’t that mean he has control over, like, all ghosts? Including... uh, Lazarus Pits?”

Everyone froze. Slowly, they all turned to Bruce, whose expression darkened slightly.

“Yes,” Bruce admitted reluctantly.

“Holy crap,” Jason said, leaning back with a stunned look. “He’s the reason the Pits freaked me out after I came back, isn’t he? I thought it was just the resurrection thing, but you knew he was tied to them!”

Bruce’s silence was answer enough.

“I want to meet him,” Cass signed firmly.

“Seconded,” Duke added. “He seems cool.”

“No,” Bruce said, finally standing and cutting through the rising chatter. His tone was firm, brooking no argument. “Danny is not someone you want to get involved with.”

But before Bruce could elaborate, the room was bathed in green light again.

Danny reappeared, now sitting cross-legged in mid-air, holding what looked like a spectral clipboard. “Forgot one thing,” he announced casually.

Bruce’s glare could have burned through steel. “What now?”

Danny smirked. “I want interest. Fifteen years is a long time to wait for sixteen bucks. So let’s say... ten percent per year?”

Jason cackled as the rest of the family broke out into laughter. Even Damian couldn’t entirely suppress a smirk.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose again. “I’m not paying you interest.”

Danny shrugged, grinning. “Guess I’ll have to stick around until you do. Hope you’ve got extra space, because I’m moving in.”

The Batcave erupted into chaos. Jason and Steph cheered, Tim frantically calculated how much Bruce technically owed, and Bruce’s patience reached its breaking point.

“Fine,” Bruce growled. “But you’re staying in the guest room.”

Danny floated down, looking entirely too smug. “Deal. Now, who’s up for pizza? I’m starving.”

[theblack-dog]

One of the hardest things for Darry being Ponyboy's guardian is when he gets in trouble at school.

Like one time the school called him in because Ponyboy got into a fight at lunch with a soc because the dude said something along the lines of "you greasers are on thin ice" and Ponyboy said "at least I can stand on ice, you fat fuck" and they started swinging.

Poor Darry had to sit in front of the principal and act like that wasn't the funniest fucking thing he's ever heard.

[dapper-lil-arts]

MOM FIGHTS

[electraslight]

more no demon realm au!

the framing device for this is that belos is the principal of Gravesfield Academy, a Catholic school, and he controls the town through that position. After getting expelled from public school, Luz transfers there and starts doing community service with Eda, a local disabled woman and notorious huckster, and her son, a 5 year old boy who believes he's royalty from another country.

more details under the cut

-Blight Industries is an auto parts manufacturing company that provides most of the jobs in Gravesfield

-Both Caleb and Evelyn are still alive, but Evelyn is in and out of prision for assorted offences, and Caleb is in the army and doesn't want to pull Hunter away from his 'friends' and 'family' (Belos may have stretched Hunter's level of popularity to him) so he leaves him with Belos

-Evelyn and Eda/Lilith are cousins

-Frewin is a seeing-eye sphinx cat

-Gus is obsessed with aliens instead of humans

[frownyalfred]

Tim, interrupting one of Two-Face’s long-ass monologues: --just stop being a cunt, okay?

Two-Face: and I — excuse me?

Tim:

Two-Face:

Tim, crossing his arms: wassup?