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violettelueur · 4 years

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE EIGHT || BOREDOM

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda + aoi todo + zenin mai + miwa kasumi + gakuganji yoshinobu (mentions of itadori yuji + ieiri shoko) from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of violence + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 02 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 5.8k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : assault

↳ next episode : small fry and reverse retribution

↳ barista’s notes : hi there everyone! right now i know i haven’t been the most active i have been but i really thankful on how patient you all are ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ my procrastination has reach a new all time high since my birthday is on saturday and i am dreading becoming 18 because that means i will be a legal adult and i also have exams soon...ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ moving on from that, i hope you all enjoys today’s episode!

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode...

but the little flick that Y/N does is inspired from this video here

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“You really need to stop with your assaults Gojo,” Fushiguro stated, as he pressed his index and middle finger on the middle of his forehead, as he remembered the pain that came along with your flick as well as complaining about the side head slap he had gained from you.

“Nah, you just got to stop asking stupid questions Fushiguro,” you commented back before asking Kugisaki want she was planning to get.

‘So make sure you’re not alone in this world like I am Y/N, I want you to be happy even when we’re both stuck with this burden!’

‘I’m trying mother,’ you thought, as you tightly gripped your phone that was still in your pocket.

ꕥ

“I never really thought you were the type that would go to the beach,” you commented, as you leisurely walked towards the calm ocean with a pair of arms wrapped around yours (that was holding your shoes) since your mother wanted to walk side by side with you to enjoy this tranquil moment together.

“I never thought that about myself either, but it’s better to be surprised then going back to the city again, is it not?” your mother asked with a let out a gentle laugh before instantly halting the moment you both felt the warm water covering your bare feet.

“I guess so,” you stated before using your other arm to partly cover your face due to the sunlight brightly blinding your eyes. However, it seemed like where your mother was standing wasn’t causing her too much irritation - maybe it wasn't as bright from where she was.

Currently, it was sunset at Tatadohama beach - to which surprised you that there weren’t as many people as you thought - where your mother had taken you since she thought you both deserved a bit of a break before you could go back to school since it was the summer break and to be honest, you needed it since you and your mother just came back from a job of exorcising a grade-one curse while trying to escape the scene before any other jujutsu sorcerers came.

“You look beautiful though, your mother has good taste doesn’t she?” your mother teasingly asked in a rhetorical manner, as she took her time to observe you rather than the sunset that was in front of her. Right now, you were some simple jean shorts that were somewhat quite large letting the gentle breeze cool you down leading you to fasten a black belt with a silver buckle which tucked in a simple short-sleeved oversized white button-up shirt that was loose, so you wouldn’t feel tight around your upper body as well as dressing for the warm weather that was approaching.

“It is quite plain, but it’s simple and cute,” you commented, as you peered down at your mother’s clothing choices before looking back up to view the beautiful setting in front of you, as your mother smiled gently before placing her head on your shoulder.

“Promise me that you’ll be okay,” your mother suddenly uttered quietly, leading you to give off a confused look before turning your head down slightly only to discover a small smile on her face with softened eyes as if she was relishing the moment with you.

“You’re acting like you're going to die tomorrow,” you comedically commented, leading your mother to laugh at your statement which caused you to giggle slightly since your mother’s laugh was always contagious when you were with her. Taking a deep breath in to calm down, your mother slowly calmed down before lifting her head up as she sighed.

“Well, anything can happen and I want your word that you will do anything to be safe,” your mother expanded on her previous statement, causing you to turn to her to look at her in the eye, trying to see and understand what your mother really wanted you to know before you nodded at her with a small smile.

“I promise mother”

ꕥ

“Oi Y/N, wake up”

Slowly opening your eyes, you slowly blinks a few times as you try to get a clearer view from what you were looking at before steadily realising that you were at the track field where you were training with the rest of the students.

Shifting your eyes to look up slightly, only to discover all the upperclassmen looking down at you with the tree leaves covering you from the sunlight that was beaming down right now.

‘Oh...that’s right, I’m at Jujutsu Tech’

“Sorry for making you fight with all of us, I bet you were exhausted, but we need you to check up on Megumi and Nobara since they went to do some errands,” Panda expressed with hands pressed together as a sign of forgiveness.

“Kelp,” Inumaki commented as if affirming Panda’s statement leading you to sit up slowly before stretching your arms to get read of the stiffness that was consuming them before taking in Zenin’s outstretched arm to help you up - something you both been doing for quite some time during the week - before picking up the black track top of brought out for today’s training that you were laying on top of.

“Sorry for sleeping, where are they?” you asked, as you covered your mouth to yawn since you didn’t want to seem rude to your second-year seniors.

“They should be getting a few drinks for themselves and us from the vending machines, they didn’t want to wake you up, but we knew they probably need some help remembering what we want,” Zenin answered, as she used her thumb to point behind her the direction you needed to take.

“Sorry, I’ll get going then,” you commented before tying the track top around your waist before picking up your black katana since you didn’t want to leave it alone before waving at them when you were beginning to head off.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you mentioned before Inuamki shouted ‘Salmon’ back at you before you swiftly made your way up the stone steps to find both your classmates Fushiguro and Kugisaki to get the drinks that the other wanted since you knew that they’ll probably both forget or take too long for your senior’s liking.

“I’m surprised she can still run after all those practice matches,” Panda stated, as he continued to stare at the direction that you headed out in.

“She’s strong, there is no surprise Gojo has taken her into his family and out of training to take some missions,” Zenin commented before continuing with, “she comes back really quickly to resume training with us,”.

“Mustard leaf,” Inumaki mentioned, as he nodded at his classmate’s remark about you before all of the second years went off for their walk, as they gave you time to run your errands before coming back to the field to train for the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event.

ꕥ

Looking at her drinks in front of her, Kugisaki was disappointed at the lack of variety that the machines had as she groaned in annoyance before pressing her choice of the cold drink she wanted before checking to make sure there was orange juice in the vending machine since she knew you would want some when she got back to you.

“Couldn’t they put in a few more vending machines?” Kugisaki asked in an irritated tone, as she bent down to collect her drink from the takeout port before turning around to look at her classmate, who was standing behind her.

“They can’t. There are only so many workers who can come in here,” Fushiguro answered, as he turned to look at her only for the female to turn back around to place more money into the coin slot. “What else are you buying?” Fushiguro asked since he knew that Kugisaki as well as himself didn’t know what the upperclassmen wanted - that was usually your job.

“Gojo really likes orange juice, so I wanted to buy her some since she did train with all of us, I bet she’s still sleeping,” Kugisaki commented before contemplating if you wanted to bottle or carton version of the citrus juice since she didn’t know if you always bought the carton one on purpose.

However, before she could come to the conclusion on what you probably wanted, she noticed from the corner of her eye that there were two people standing at the other side of the outdoor hallway they were at. From what she can observe, it seemed like those two people were from Jujutsu Tech due to their uniforms as the male had what seemed to be an angry expression while the other student - who looked similar to Zenin Maki - had a sly smile on her face.

“What are you doing here, Zenin-senpai?” Fushiguro asked in confusion since he wasn’t expecting anyone from Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College to come to their side.

“Oh, she’s one, too?” Kugisaki queried while turning her head to look at Fushiguro before continuing with, “They do seem similar, are they sisters?” as she turned back to look at the female student to get a closer look at her.

“They’re twins,” Fushiguro answered quickly.

“Don’t call me that, Fushiguro-kun. You make me sound the same as Maki, call me Mai,” Mai stated, as she gave the two Tokyo students a wink.

“So there are the pinch hitters for Okkotsu and the third-years?” the male student stated with a hostile tone while glaring at them with a look of pure disappointment.

“We came here with the principal because we were worried about you. Your classmate died, right? Was that rough? Or did you think nothing of it?” Mai asked with the smirk still painted on her face, leading Fushiguro and Kugisaki to tense at her sudden but somewhat offensive questions.

“What are you trying to say?” Fushiguro asked tensely, as he suddenly felt a slight bit of annoyance building up in his stomach.

“It’s okay, some things are hard to say out loud, so I’ll say it for you,” Mai amusingly stated before proceeding, “‘Vessel’ makes it sound nice, but it means he was a half-curse monster. Having such a tainted, inhuman being beside you brazenly calling himself a jujutsu sorcerer must have been revolting right? Aren’t you feeling better now that he’s dead?”. However, her questions only lead to extremely vexed expressions appearing on both of the Tyoko student’s faces.

“Mai, don’t bring up such pointless topics, I’m only here to see if these guys are fit to take Okkotsu’s place, that’s all I want to know,” the large male declared as he took a few steps forwards before throwing his school jacket to the side, leading to the shikigami sorcerer to tense up once again as he began to worry what was about to happen.

“Fushiguro, was it?” the large male asked before shouting in a proud manner…

“What kind of woman is your type?”

Suddenly perplexed, Fushiguro as well as Kugisaki, shifted their heads to the side simultaneously to convey their unexpected confusion to the two Tokyo students especially to the male that had just asked the weird as well as absurd question.

“Depending on your answer, I’ll beat you half to death right here and drag Okkotsu, or at least the third-years, out to the exchange event,” the large Kyoto student threatened as he processed to unexpectedly and violently ripped his purple shirt into shreds, showcasing his large muscular upper body before positioning himself in his usual fighting stance as he then suddenly announced, “by the way, my type is a tall woman with a big ass!”.

“Why do I have to talk about my taste in women with a guy I just met?” Fushiguro annoyingly asked as he began to express an irritated expression on his face at the Kyoto student that suddenly declared a fight out of nowhere.

“He’s right. That’s a tall hurdle for an antisocial guy,” Kugisaki unintentionally comedically commented, as she pointed at her stoic classmate, leading Fushiguro to express a more vexed expression.

“You be quiet. This is confusing enough already. You’ll just make it more complicated,” Fushiguro mentioned as an irked mark became more visible on his right cheek, displaying his displeasure on what was happening right now.

“Kyoto, third-year, Todo Aoi,” the Kyoto Tech sorcerer introduced himself. “Introduction over,” Todo announced as he then continued by saying, “now we’re friends. Hurry up and answer, if you prefer men, that’s fine too,”.

“A person’s fetishes reflect everything about them,” Todo explained, indicating the reason why he was asking his laughable question in the first place. “People with boring taste in women are boring people themselves,” Todo passionately proclaimed, as if he was presenting a speech to the whole of Japan at this moment in time before he exclaimed, “I hate boring men.”

“And I hate drags like you”

Turning his head slightly to view what was going on behind him, Todo managed to get a glimpse of a person that was right behind his school mate. A female standing with her hands in her pockets with what seemed to be a katana hanging horizontally unlike Okkotsu, who had his vertically, with a nonchalant expression painted on her face.

“Also your drag ass friend, she has quite a big mouth for a Grade three sorcerer from what I can sense, is this what I’m really fighting against Fushiguro?” you asked before you started to walk past the other sorcerer as you made your way to the vending machine to grab the drinks that the second-years usually requested when they made you run errands during a break from training.

“Gojo! You’re awake?” Kugisaki asked as she smiled at you before quickly mentioning there was money already in the machine since she was planning to get you your drink.

“You heard everything?” Fushiguro questioned as he turned his view to you, only to discover you pressing on the button that correlated to the carton of orange juice as you mentioned to Kugisaki that you were going to pay her back before turning your head to look at your other classmate.

“Yeah, I heard everything. You guys are loud and to be honest, both of them need to shut up, they’re such drags,” you muttered disrespectfully since you could tell they were at least a year or two years above you in the academic year.

However, it seemed like your insult didn’t stop Todo from explaining his passion for people’s preferences in a partner as he continued to declare his speech with pride, much to your complete dismay.

“As I was saying, the exchange event is where my soul can be free as blood boils and flesh clashes, who knows what I might do if my last exchange event ends up boring me?” Todo rhetorically questioned as he maintained his fighting stance as if he was ready to pounce within a second with a confident smile on his face.

‘Shut up...I have to meet with Gojo-sensei later and I don’t want a massive headache to come in before it becomes worse when I see him’

“Hey, aren’t the Jujutsu Tech schools four-year schools?” Kugisaki asked in an unsure manner as she turned to look at Fushiguro since she was trying to take note from you on what drinks to buy in case you weren’t able to for the seniors. However, she was confused about why Todo mentioned that this was going to be his last exchange event when he was a thrid-year.

“Only third-years and under can join the exchange event,” Fushiguro quickly answered Kugisaki’s question as she then let out an understandable ‘Hmm’ to inform her classmate that she acknowledged what he had just told her before swiftly turning back to notice that you had brought a cold water bottle for what seemed to be for Zenin (Maki) since you and her were looking at your phone to see a note displayed on the screen.

“As a show of kindness, I’ll let you off only half-dead right now,” Todo threatened again before repeating the weird question that instinctively started this whole situation, “answer me, Fushiguro. What kind of woman is your type?”

“Is this some kind of comedy routine?” the shikigami user angrily asked, as he increasingly got annoyed at what was happening right now and was confused on why he was picked in the first place.

“Don’t get into a fight, I seriously can’t be bothered to use any reverse cursed technique to heal your wounds if you do and we need to get back to training soon,” you stated before pressing on the last button for the last drink that was needed to be given for Inumaki when you get back.

However, it seemed as if both of your classmates didn’t listen to you since Kugisaki was now observing the other student behind Todo due to her uniform. “Is that your summer uniform?” Kugisaki asked in a light tone, as she admired the outfit before continuing with “ticks me off, but it’s nice”.

“Are you both even listening?” you muttered in annoyance before grabbing the small bag - that you kept from the time you went to your mother’s grave - in the pocket of your nylon cargo pants to place the drinks after you had got them from the dispenser since you didn't want to struggle to carry them.

Looking to his side, Fushiguro looked at his classmate as he began to analyse the situation that was currently going on. From what he could gather, Kugisaki was unarmed and didn’t have her usual hammer with her like she normally did meaning he was wanting to avoid any confrontation that could happen at this moment in time, while you were armed with your usual katana, yet he didn’t want to risk you revealing your true identity to the Kyoto students - not like he really had to worry about that.

‘Not forgiving people isn’t a bad thing. That’s just part of your kindness, isn’t it?’

That’s what his sister said to him once.

“I don’t have a particular preference, as long as she has unshakeable character, I won’t ask for more,” Fushiguro answered, to which you were surprised since you predicted that he wasn’t the type to reveal that sort of information. On the other hand, it seemed like Mai was pleased with the answer as she smiled sweetly at the boy causing you to shudder.

‘Ain’t...they like….family…?’

“Not a bad answer, if you had said something like ‘big boobs,’ I’d have killed you,” Kugisaki mentioned with a please expression on her face since she was relieved at the fact Fushiguro wasn’t suggestive like the Kyoto student in front of you three right now.

“Shut up,” Fushiguro muttered in an irritated tone.

However, it seemed like not everyone was pleased with his answer, as a tear was shed on a cheek.

“I knew it...You’re boring, Fushiguro,” Todo stated in a depressed manner before swiftly pushing himself to swing Fushiguro violently outside the hallway you were standing.

“DIDN’T I SAY NOT TO GET INTO FIGHTS, YOU DRAG?!” you screamed, as you turned your head to the direction where Fushiguro was struck away.

“FUSHIGURO!” Kugisaki panicked as she began to rush to his aid before a pair of arms was wrapped around her to halt her movement.

“Poor Fushiguro-kun, even a talented second-grade jujutsu sorcerer is nothing more than a first-year against the top-grade Todo-senpai, I’ll have to comfort him later,” Mai expressed with a sickly-sweet tone. However, you already had something to say.

“That may be true, but your Todo-senpai is nothing against a special-grade,” you mentioned with a smirk on your face, causing the female sorcerer to look towards you with widened eyes before suddenly remembering what Kugisaki called you by.

“Gojo…” Mai stuttered.

“Gojo, I’m okay! Just make sure Fushiguro is,” Kugisaki said to you with a proud smile on her face, causing you to drop the bag that you had in hand before quickly untying the red charm that was at the end of your katana.

‘I don’t need to unsheathe my katana, but I can’t use any of my curse spells to restrain him, so the chain will have to do’

“Hold this for me!” you shouted as you swiftly tossed the charm in her direction to which she caught easily since her arms still had movement before you rushed towards the scene where Fushiguro and Todo was.

‘This is such a drag right now…’ you thought, as you made it outside to find Fushiguro kneeling on the ground with a few new scratches on his face as well as his now stained blue track. However, it seemed as if Todo wasn’t done with his first attack since he was talking towards the Tokyo student like he was his prey.

On the other hand, you didn’t seem to care as you looked at him with an annoyed expression - even though you knew it wasn’t his fault. “Didn’t I say not to get into any fights? I can’t be bothered to use any reversed cursed techniques right now and I don’t want to bother Shoko-san since I need to train with her to know how to use it properly!” you raged, yet once again, it seemed like both of the male sorcerer’s weren’t listening to you.

“I knew at first glance that you were a boring guy, but you shouldn’t judge a person by their looks, right?” Todo questioned rhetorically again, causing the flames of rage to increase inside your soul since this situation was getting a little too similar to the one back at the detention centre.

“So I went out of my way to ask you, but you just trampled on my kindness,” Todo whined with a pout on his face while wiping the dripping tears that continued to fall.

“Is your brain as pineapple as your head?” Fushiguro insulted, as he gave the senior a weirded-out look.

“You’re the one to talk, hedgehog!” you screamed in annoyance since you were getting frustrated at the fact that no one was listening to you.

“I heard you don’t use cursed techniques.” Fushiguro randomly mentioned as he got up on his feet causing you to look at him with a death glare as well as suddenly being curious about what he meant by ‘don’t use cursed techniques’.

“Huh? Oh, that’s rumour’s false, I used them against the special-grade,” Todo plainly stated like it was an everyday face before raising his arm to wave his hand side to side as if to ‘slap’ away the rumours that were going on about him before continuing with, “but I heard rumours going around about a girl that went toe-to-toe with Sukuna, she was fighting with you right? Where is she?”

‘MAYBE THE GIRL THAT IS BEHIND YOU, SHOUTING AT YOU DRAGS!’

“That’s a relief to hear!” Fushiguro declared as if he was confident, causing you to look at him enraged with fury.

“THAT IS NOT A RELIEF TO HEAR, YOU DRAG!” you screamed, as you were now handing on an extremely thin piece of thread that was going to snap any second, leading you to attack both of them if this got out of hand.

However, once again, Fushiguro and Todo didn’t listen to you for one second as the shikigami sorcerer began to signal his shikigami to appear with the familiar hand-sign of ‘Nue’ back with you fought with him against Sukuna and ‘Gama’ from when you were training with him - yet, you were completely perplexed on what he had combined when both together.

Suddenly, a familiar shadow began to swiftly emerge from the ground before it suddenly took form into something you didn’t really expect from the Ten-Shadow Technique sorcerer.

“Frogs with wings?” you muttered, as you stared at the sight in complete surprise since you didn’t expect to see a few frogs with wings appearing in front of you - you never thought you see something like this in your life, to be honest.

“Bottomless Well!” Fushiguro chanted before a few of the frogs croaked in response causing you to stare that the creature in a now unreadable expression.

‘They will be weaker than their counterpart shikigami but they do have many benefits....didn’t Gojo-sensei mention something about the Kamo’s family?’

On the other hand, it seemed like your future opponent in the exchange event didn’t seem so nervous about the technique. Of course, from what you remembered from training as well as some knowledge that you had gained just from seeing one movement from Todo, you had come to the conclusion that he was a close-range fighter, probably had some experience with weapons since it would be foolish if a fighter didn’t have any sense it was a risk of them just having knowledge with their hands.

However, before you could even continue to gain more knowledge just by looking at the back of the well muscular sorcerer, there was a quick shift in the air causing you to snap out of your trance only to find Todo behind suddenly behind Fushiguro as he processed to wrap his arms around your classmate’s waist.

“Flimsy and shallow...Both your body and your taste in women!” Todo shouted before lifting Fushiguro upwards like he weighed nothing before aggressively smashing his headfirst into the ground behind him, causing you to discover how flexible the Kyoto student was before he suddenly jumped up into the air to give his opponent a punch, only for Fushiguro to dodge just in time, yet that didn’t seem to last since the second he moved away to gain some distance, he was violently smacked with a fist.

“Fushiguro!” you shouted, before quickly forcing the soles of your sheet to push your body forward to an extreme length, just in time to get in between both of the male sorcerers that were fully ignoring you since the moment you entered into the conversation to grab the drinks.

“Gojo!” Fushiguro yelled out in a panic since he was extremely worried that you were now taking a hit for him.

However, it seemed like Todo was now suddenly the one that was worried since his incoming punch seemed to hit something really small since it didn’t cover all his knuckles, yet it didn’t break like he thought it would, causing him to let the debris slowly clear away as his eyes began to notice the sight of a sleek black wooden scabbard standing vertically from the ground halting his extremely large fist, while you were kneeling down behind it, holding the handle with an extremely displeased look on your face with Fushiguro behind you as your other hand had a grip on the collar of his blue track jacket.

“You know Fushiguro, you are full of surprises but a complete drag when it comes to not listening to me,” you muttered, before slowly letting go of his collar as your turned your now free hand to face Kyoto Student in front of you, who was looking down at you with a shocked expression on his face.

“Todo Aoi right? You see, Gojo-sensei asked me to meet up with him and I don’t want a headache since I know he’s gonna give me one later, so I’ll see you later okay?” you sinisterly stated, before opening your palm to him as you slowly bend your middle finger towards you while placing your thumb on top of it, right on the nail.

“That looks like a nice construction sight,” you nonchalantly mentioned as you looked up at the wooden structure behind you before speedily flicking out your middle finger, causing Todo’s body to suddenly be pushed back with an extremely large force of cursed energy leading to the wooden panels to instantly break once his body made contact before you assumed his body landed on the wooden flooring that was above since you couldn’t see him anymore.

“Gojo…” Fushiguro muttered in shock as he didn’t expect something like that to happen before he noticed the same hand that flicked his opponent away was coming towards him with the same gesture.

Flicking his forehead gently, you turned to look at him with a straight face before you used the same palm to let your cursed energy become slowly positive with some concentration to heal his wound that was on his head.

“It’s not much since I haven’t perfected it yet, but it will deal with the blood loss before you go to Shoko-san, you drag” you commented before sighing.

‘There was no need for me to remove the charm after all, but that’s enough for me to gain information for the event’

“Megumi! Y/N!” someone shouted, causing you both to look up only to find your second-year seniors Inumaki and Panda looking down below you to where you remembered flicking Todo towards, leading you to assume that they went to where there was the most ruckus was happening. However, next to Panda was Todo, who smirked down at the sight of both of you below.

“Fushiguro, let’s train our hardest okay?” you muttered, so only your classmate could hear, leading him to look at your with confused eyes before you turned to him with a smile, “you’re really strong, but I know you and Kugisaki can get stronger, so just follow me when I need you to okay?” you asked, before standing up on your feet once you managed to stop the blood loss from Fushiguro’s head.

“Panda-senpai! Inumaki-senpai! Can you take Fushiguro to Shoko-san, Gojo-sensei said he needs me for a discussion, I assume Maki-san is with Kugisaki!” you yell out.

“Salmon!” Inuamki shouted back before all of the three sorcerers were out of your sights, causing you to turn back to Fushiguro before giving your hand to him to help himself up.

‘Grade-one Todo Aoi and grade-three Zenin Mai ha?’

ꕥ

“Ah Y/N, my daughter there you are!” Gojo cheered in delight once he saw you on the other side of the sliding door before you decided to step in since it was left open, to who you assumed was your adoptive dad that opened it earlier for his own reason.

“Excuse me,” you muttered before taking a quick glance around the room before noticing that there were only two more people with you and Gojo right now. From a side glance, you noticed a girl, probably the same age as you or maybe a year older at the latest, with long blue hair with a slightly slanted fridge wearing a suit that seemed to suit her really well even if her youthful and adorable face.

‘A semi grade two? No..maybe three like Mai…’

However, as your eyes shifted to the sight on the opposite side where Gojo was seated, there was an old man seated while holding onto a wooden cane, who seemed to be somewhere in his late 80s but you wouldn’t tell since he seemed too hollow for you liking, yet something about him gave you an off-putting feeling.

“I wanted to tell you about the two special-grade curses that attacked me the other day,” Gojo happily mentioned with a smile on his face, causing you to look at him with a confused expression since he seemed too happy for someone that got attacked.

“Why do you look so happy? That should be the opposite reaction Gojo-sensei,” you remarked, as you made your way towards him only for his response to be a little pout.

“How many times do I have to tell you? You can call me your dad,” Gojo childishly whined.

“Never,” you shut down his offer as quickly as you could before uttering him to tell you about the special curses he wanted to inform you about, only for him to suddenly pull out a piece of paper with two childish drawings on them, causing you to look at the art in a fed-up manner before snatching it off his hand to get a closer look at the curses that he masterfully drew.

“As I said before, the two cursed spirits were capable of communication and they probably have allies who are just as strong,” Gojo declared in a serious manner, causing you to shiver at the 180-degree personality turn that he had done right in front of you.

“It’s not just our enemies, either. Hakari, Okkotsu, your Todo and now my daughter Gojo. The level of our students has risen drastically in recent years, as well,” Gojo stated as he stared at the old man before he processed with, “then there was last year’s incident with Geto Suguru and now, the appearance of Sukuna’s vessel,”.

“What are you trying to say?” the old man asked, as he looked at your adoptive father with an expressionless look on his face (not that you could ever tell if there was any expression in the first place).

“Hehe, you don’t know? The wave of power you guys have been trying to hold back with your pointless status and traditions has grown bigger than you can handle and is now descending upon us. You won’t be able to measure the coming age with the classification of ‘special grade’ if you think I’m the only one who’ll be fighting back, you’re going to get hurt, old man,” Gojo declared with a smirk on his face as he felt the presence of the realisation that was coming to you now.

‘That man...was the reason why…..Itadori….’

“I think you are getting a bit out of line,” the old man lightly threatened in a lower tone as he glared at the sorcerer in front of him.

“I think it’s you that’s getting out of line,” you muttered in vexation as you glared down hostility at the man sitting on the opposite side of the table as the paper that you were holding began to crumble in your grasp. “If you get to kill someone by using me as a tool, let me return the favour next time with your head,” you threatened in a spiteful manner causing the old man to look at you with the same hollow eyes as he did with Gojo.

“Oh! Scary! Well, that's all I wanted to say, I’ll be going now with my daughter,” Gojo mentioned, as he got up from his seat before placing his hands on each of your upper arms to push you towards the direction of the door, before guiding himself through that gap that was left open.

“Oh, Principal Yaga will be coming in about two hours. Later!” Gojo departed cheekily, before closing the door as he then guided you away from the room the higher-up was in since he knew you were in a state of shock at the discovery you had made about your deceased classmate: Itadori Yuji.

‘Those higher-ups are so useless, all they do is command other sorcerers to do their dirty work while acting if they are superior dear. If I could, I would kill all of them’

‘Mother….’

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bubblyhoney · 3 years

Note

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x gn!reader #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap drabble #sapnap one shot #sapnap oneshot #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #honey answers #my lovely anon #sapnap fanfic #bubblyhoneyfics

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retvenkos · 3 years

Text

“would it be terribly cheesy if i said ‘it was always you’?”

requested by @biqherosix STRAP IN, FOLKS, BECAUSE TODAY WE ARE TAKING A LOOK AT WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE FOR EJ CASWELL TO HAVE A CRUSH ON A NORTH HIGH STUDENT...

so first of all, you and ej knew each other long before you ran into each other in high school. because, you see, you went to junior high together, and in those days, both you and ej were on dance company

(you can pry dance company! ej from my cold, dead fingers)

you were arguably the better dancer, and seventh grade ej really wanted to prove himself. a baby competition sprouted between the two of you, but it was nothing big.

you both liked to show off in order to taunt the other, and you both got a kick out of trying to one up each other.

but at the same time, you were teammates. you did everything together.

so the bond between you and ej was strong. it was a competition, yes, but it was friendly competition and you both actually hyped each other a lot.

plus, dance company does a lot of things as a group, so it was unavoidable. you were going to end up liking each other at some point. luckily, it happened sooner rather than later, and the two of you built up a nice rapport with one another - a closeness forged in friendly competition and last minute studying parties.

but all that changed when you went to north high and ej went to east high

now, since north high is completely fictional, i get to create the dynamic between the schools, so listen up everyone!

north high clearly has the better arts department, and they also have the better tennis and softball team.

east high has the better stem department as well as a better swim team and any other swim related sports.

west high has the better sport teams overall - basketball, football, volleyball, etc.

(that's why we never see any uber jocks at east high—)

now, clearly you have your boundary school, but people get on special permit all the time, and when you say you’re going to north high ej is like ???? but why ???

“they have a better arts department, ej, you know that!”

“well, yeah, but east high is the best. we always said we were going to be wildcats!”

“ej.... they’re actually leopards.”

it wasn’t a super emotional goodbye. you promised to stay in touch, and it wasn’t like it was hard. you still saw each other around the mall, you still followed each other on instagram and what not but.... time just got between you.

you slowly stop texting, you see each other less, when you see each other in public you do that thing where you give a smile but then don’t go over to say hi, because you’re wrapped up in other people. it’s not pointed things, you just... stop talking.

and you still like each others photos on instagram but you’re just... there.

all of that changes, however, when carlos asks you to help him choreograph hsm.

at the time, the rivalry between schools wasn’t big, it was just a low simmer, and the reason carlos approached you was because once upon a time, you, ej, and him had all been in dance company together for one (1) year (it all comes full cIRCLE) and for one of your performances, you had done something hsm related.

carlos wanted to know if you remembered the routine and could help him come up with something slightly more advanced.

and while you and carlos hadn’t really kept up with one another, he jokingly brought up a time where he did something for you, and how you always said you’d pay him back one day and maybe now it was time to cash it in??

you decided why not? you’ve done a lot of stuff for north high’s dance company, but you’ve never helped out in a musical before (and as you can imagine, north high is very competitive in their arts)

so you joined the hsm cast as co-choreographer.

now, because you had your own north high dance company stuff to deal with, you end up missing a lot of rehearsals. you mostly brainstorm with carlos and add tweaks to the choreo. carlos is the one to really ~teach~ things.

which means that while you are present for ~the drama~ that was ej-nini-ricky, you actually miss a lot of it. you feel the tension, but exactly why it’s Like That is beyond you.

you tried to ask carlos once but he said he wasn’t going to get into that, thank you.

and honestly, you have competitions to keep up with, so you’re not fixated on it. you’re just hoping that they’re not still pissed at each other on opening night, when ej has to strap ricky in for “getcha head in the game”

and while you’ve chatted with ej a couple of times, you haven’t had much time to catch up.

you actually bond a lot with gina, who is on the same level as you in terms of dance. you end up talking and mention how ej was once on dance company, and that rocks her world because ej???

and that’s when you show her all of the old videos you archived on your instagram from your junior high days. carlos, ej, and you all in dance company. they’re precious.

and when ej’s friendships are strained and he doesn’t have anyone to turn to, he sees you and gina laughing and crowding over your phone, and he comes to say hi.

and thus, the friendship begins again.

it is, of course, slow going because so much time has come between you, and gina and carlos (the two you hang with the most) are not on great terms with ej, but you guys grow really close all over again. ej is glad to have another senior to talk to about college, and you’re glad you have an old friend to talk to because it’s easy to feel out of place in this school that isn’t yours.

and on opening night, you know ej gifts you something - maybe it’s a jacket or beanie with the wildcats emblem on it.

“it’s kinda stupid, but we always said we were going to be wildcats together, and we did it.”

“huh, i guess we did.”

and for some reason, you chest is really warm, and you can feel the heat sneak up to your cheeks.

“this is really sweet, ej.”

“well, you know me.”

“yeah, i guess i do.”

and then it’s his cue to get ready to go on stage.

“oh! and there should be another surprise coming, don’t hate me for not telling you!”

and you’re ??? but it turns out to be gina.

you all clearly go to denny's afterward to celebrate, and if ej feels his heart seize in his chest everytime you laugh or steal one of gina’s fries, it’s not an unfamiliar feeling. because really, it had always been like that, with you. you never cease to amaze him.

and once you’re on the east high theatre group chat, you never get taken off of it, so you know everything that’s going on with your theatre buddies, after hsm has finished.

and this is where a conflict of interest really comes in...

because, you see, once hsm is a hit, some of the theatre kids at north high think you’re a traitor. you gave east high their secrets, and now east high is an actual contender. uncool, (y/n).

so you kind of get iced out by a lot of north high kids. like i said. competition there is s t e e p and you’ve been accused of fraternizing with the enemy..

but when zach roy shows up and he hears about the drama surrounding one (y/n) (l/n), he gets an idea... so he approaches you one day after dance company practice...

“he asked you to do wHAT?”

you’re texting ej, carlos, and gina in a group chat

“he asked me to co-choreograph their show.”

“are you going to do it?” - carlos

“of course they are! do you think opportunities like this just fall out of the sky?” - gina

“i don’t know, though, i feel like he’s working some angle with me. there’s something about him that doesn’t feel genuine.”

“it’s those piercing blue eyes.” - carlos

“i have piercing blue eyes!”

“and you’ve never done anything underhanded?” - gina

“we did that together!”

“what should i do?”

“accept, clearly!” - gina

“i’d be careful, if i were you. miss jenn doesn’t trust him for a reason.” - carlos

“it’s up to you, (y/n). you’ll do great, and it’s a great opportunity.”

“but?”

and everyone can feel the pause - the conflict where ej doesn’t know what to say.

“but nothing! this is a HUGE opportunity! he’s dancer extraordinaire derek hough zach roy! i’d be the villain of your eventual documentary if i were to try to hold you back.”

“okay... i think i’ll do it. you know how competitive things are, here. this could really give me a boost.”

“hell yeah, (y/n)!” - gina

“spy on their production for us?” - carlos

“anything for you <3″

i imagine you clash a lot with lily, but you actually become really good friends with howie and antoine. but that’s beside the point.

and while things are on good terms at first, your bond with your wildcats stays strong, and you’re carving out a place in north high rehearsals, lily is quick to find out that you’re on the east high group chat.

and because this is hsmtmts, i get to have some fun with this premise.

lily gets some kind of tech nerd on her side, and she gets him to make it so that somehow, the text that you get from the theatre group also send to her phone, for maximum stalking of the competition. that’s how she always gets one step ahead of east high.

and as north high seemingly continues to have insider info on east high, someone suspects there’s a leak.... which leads to you. who else has access to north high? so they send a fake text and wait to see if north high takes the bait.

they do. so now east high thinks it’s you.

but at this same time, you keep noticing that suspiciously, whenever you get a text from east high theatre department, lily’s phone goes off to. literally at the same moment, you’re doing your own test to see if somehow she hacked your phone.

(you had your suspicions because lily is actually terribly bad at hiding her hand and constantly makes remarks that make you Think™.)

you confirm lily to have hacked your phone, and so you go old school and show up to east high, hoping to tell them what happened and find some fix (since east high is the mother of all tech schools in this universe.)

but when you walk into the auditorium, the cast is being really passive aggressive toward you? and you’re so confused? what happened?

of course, ricky is the only to confront you because these days, it seems like he’s always one (1) moment away from blowing up.

and you explain that you were played just as much as they were - it was never your intention to betray them. east high is your family.

“oh, yeah? i’ve never known an east high leopard to go to north high.”

and so now we’re in shambles! we’re divided!

you leave, upset, and ej catches you in the hall. he tries to explain that ricky’s been on one, recently, that none of his anger was really meant for you, and that he believes you - truly. he knows you’re the last person to ever betray them. you’re not like that. that’s more him than it is you.

and you just give him the world’s biggest h u g .

now you’re probably wondering why i insisted on this particular plot line, but let me tell you - ej never really understood completely what a complete breach of trust it was for him to steak nini’s phone and violate her privacy like that. now he can see how deeply it affects you - how it can really ruin people in ways you never intend. it’s about the learning curve.

anyway, it takes you a while to build up trust with east high again, but you say “hey, why don’t you guys continue to send false leads to this group chat? make another for yourselves, and continue to spread misinformation to me.

ej is like... do you really want to sabotage your own show? but you tell him something along the lines of “our show is still going to have superior choreography, lily is just going to waste her time doing pointless side missions. it has nothing to do with the quality of my work.”

and ej loves this competitive and devious side of you so much. but he’s also deathly terrified of telling you how much he cares about you, because he always manages to screw things up.

and gina finds hilariously endearing because of all people to be self conscious... ej caswell? the ej caswell? she would be his hype woman if she wasn’t so busy finding this all too Good to be true.

eventually, lily will find out, but when she confronts you and threatens to tell the cast that you’re the reason they’re so behind in their production, you tell her that to do that, she’d have to confess to stealing your phone, hacking into it, and using it to spy on you which breaks like 23 different school rules. but sure! tell everyone! you’d love to see how the principal reacts when you film it and show it to them on monday.

(this is getting really long, let me see if i can wrap it up, quick)

clearly, ej is an Idiot when he’s in love, and even though he’s deathly afraid of telling you his feelings, that doesn’t stop him from expressing them.

both of you are in your respective musicals, and your rehearsal schedules align really nicely, so a lot of the time, ej will drive up to north high afterward so he can give you a ride home. (you don’t have a car, okay?) you guys always stop to get fast food or a drink at starbucks or something, and you have little “dates” where ej parks the car and the two of you eat in his car, just chatting about your day.

or on weekends, you and ej go and drive up to the state college that ej was admitted to, and you walk around campus, trying to envision him there. and if you’re also going to a school nearby, you do the same for you. (bonus points if you’re going to the same college, so you walk around and pick out the places where you’ll chill together.)

and if these little excursions of yours are the highlight of your week, and all you want to do is hold ej’s hand forever, singing in the car with the windows down and driving into the sunset... well, you just hope that ej wants the same.

and since ej is in av club, and he’s really trying to dig in and figure out what his story is, he’s always got a camera of some kind out, and some of his best work, he swears, are pictures and videos of you.

anyway, at some point, you confess to ej that you have a crush on him (howie probably pushed you to do it because he was tired of seeing you pine).

it’s a weekend and the two of you are procrastinating on your respective school assignments (study sessions being interrupted with senioritis? sounds about right) so instead you’re just sitting on the floor, staring at the ceiling, talking about whatever. and i think it just slips out, and when you realize what you’ve said, you’re vvv embarrassed, and you don’t even want to look at see how ej reacts, but he calls your name and you turn to him, a deadly mixture of dread and hope rooted in your stomach and shaking you to your core, but ej is smiling and in his eyes is something brighter than the sun, and when he tells you he’s feels the same, it’s like that dread in your stomach blooms into pure joy and when he tells you he’s had a crush on you since you were eighth graders and you were a better dancer than him, you can’t help but laugh until all of that warmth in your stomach has escaped into the air and hangs around the two of you like low hanging stars - so close, you can reach out and touch them.

anyway, cue lots of sneaking around north high - not because it’s a secret but because it’s fun hiding in the back of the auditorium and sneaking into the empty dance room.

cue cheering for each other at the menkies and congratulating each other when east high gets best musical, and north high gets best choreography (amongst others).

cue going to denny’s to celebrate and laughing until your sides hurt, stealing each other’s fries, and holding hands under the table.

(also... ej 100% would kiss your fingers when your hands are intertwined and that’s truly a blessing)

cue going to pool parties together for no other reason than i want all of the east high kids to do an impromptu rendition of “all for one” and ej gets to hit ricky with one of those blow up beach balls “for revenge” on the basketball moment in season 1.

plus, a pool party would do wonders for destressing, don’t lie.

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

taglist: @maybanksslut, @theletterhart, @brokenandheadoverheels, @neelia-thedaughtherof-athena @kitsdeadwife, @amortensie // add yourself to the taglist here!

#hsmtmts #high school musical: the musical: the series #high school musical the musical the series #ej caswell #ej caswell x reader #ej caswell x you #ej caswell headcanons #reader insert #ej caswell imagine #imagine #headcanons #would include #fluff #long post #you know it's a long post if i added a read more to headcanons and it's still long without the read more #anyway my agenda includes loving ej caswell wbu?

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uchihaclansslutt · 3 years

Text

just thinking about futakuchi rn— that man is so criminally underrated.

the boy at the bus stop; futakuchi kenji

things to know: one-shot, fem!reader, fluff, lower case intended, suggestive language, high school kenji, kamasaki n him are idiots

you always took the bus– it wasn't your ideal ride home, but you had no other choice.

you made your way to the same bus stop you've always waited at after school. you took a seat, folding your grey skirt underneath you and taking the green blazer you've always hated off. it was warm as the sun shined directly down at you, making you roll your eyes at the inconvenience.

the bus usually took forty-five minutes to come by after school ended, so you always struggled to find something to do for the time being. honestly, you can say nothing worked in your favour a lot of the time.

you shut your eyes while putting your blazer over your head to block the sun from shunning your eyes, hoping to get some rest and just to pass time.

after a good twenty minutes, you heard hideous laughter in the distance, causing you to open an eye and take the blazer off to check who was coming your way. you went to date tech and noticed not many people would actually take the bus home, so to your surprise, you were a bit curious when you saw two boys wearing the same uniform as you were walking towards the stop.

a familiar third year that you knew of with short blonde hair that had clearly been poorly dyed walked alongside an unknown face. you knew of the third year, it was kamasaki yasushi. he conversed with you a few times, considering you (and literally everyone else) as one of his 'cute juniors'. besides, he was known to be the loud delinquent ever since you enrolled to date tech– it was hard to not notice him.

beside him was another tall boy, about an inch shorter than kamasaki. he had straight brown hair falling to the left, brown eyes with narrow eyebrows to accompany them and a scowl on his face as his upperclassman slapped him on the back.

"come on futakuchi! i could drop you home and you won't have to take that nasty bus." futakuchi side-eyed him and looked forward again, "getting in a car with you willingly is basically suicide."

the sandy blonde looked so offended at futakuchi's remark. his mouth was left open and his junior chuckled before he crushed kamasaki's soul completely, "shut your mouth before a bug flies into it sushi."

"woah, woah, woah. what happened to respecting your seniors? it's kamasaki to you! and stop calling me sushi, it's yasushi!-" the older boy glanced at you and his mood swung completely, "oh hey l/n!"

oh wow. you didn't expect him to remember your name at all. you smiled slightly and waved, "hello kamasaki-san."

he looked at futakuchi and patted your head, "see! you should be addressing me the same way my precious little junior does!"

you looked up at kamasaki and gently took his hand off your head. "you ruined her hair kAmAsaKi-sAn," the brown-haired boy mocked, "and in your fucking dreams, sushi."

kamasaki walked away, still shouting at him in attempt to teach his underclassman a lesson, "you're not getting a ride home until you respect me!"

futakuchi sat next to you on the tiny red bench, "it's not like i wanted a ride from you anyway," he muttered. he looked up, leaning his head back, "he's a pain in the ass, isn't he?"

you looked to your left, you saw his side profile was rather beautiful. his jaw was flexed, which revealed a sharp bone underneath his skin and his hair was so effortlessly in place. "i don't know him enough to have an opinion," you shrugged. "besides, i didn't think he even knew my name."

"dude practically knows everyone in school," he said while looking at you. he raised a brow when he noticed your uniform, "i've never seen you though. which class are you in?"

"class b," you answered. you heard him sheepishly laugh and wondered if you said something wrong. "what's so funny? is there something on my face?"

futakuchi calmed down after having his moment of laughter, "nothing, class b just sucks. i'm in class a." you scoffed, "it's the same class, we just got split up-"

"no, no, no. i mean you guys are inferior. no wonder i haven't seen you around." you noticed he started to slouch on the bench, probably making himself comfortable for the next fifteen minutes. "damn this bus takes a while to get here. oh right, it's futakuchi kenji by the way." he offered his right hand for a handshake.

"it's a forty-five minute wait," you said, bringing your right hand forward to shake his as well. "l/n y/n. nice to meet you, problematic child."

"i fucking hate this place," you mumbled to yourself while looking up at the rain drizzling down. the weather in miyagi was so bipolar during the spring, and to add the cherry on top, you didn't have an umbrella with you.

you stood in the doorway before you thought about pacing to the bus stop. unfortunately for you, the rain just got heavier the longer you stood there.

there was no other choice but to take your blazer off and use it as a sheild against the rain. you exhaled and began taking your crossbody school bag off, however, you felt the strap sit on your shoulder again.

you turned around to see who was forcing your bag back onto your shoulder just to see the same brown-haired boy you met at the bus stop. "yo."

he had his green blazer off and over his shoulder. his mustard yellow tie seemed to be loosened while his white school shirt was untucked from the grey dress pants.

"futakuchi," you nodded in acknowledgement. "i don't think i've seen you in a week."

he pulled you a bit closer to him while he held his blazer above his head. he started walking ahead, you sort of had no choice but to walk along side him underneath his blazer while it poured. "mhm. i was busy with practice. what? did you miss me?"

you looked up at him and of course, he had a smug look on his face. his right arm was directly behind you, still holding the blazer above both your heads, and it somehow kept you two dry which was convenient.

without thinking too much about your response and making it seem like he caught your tongue, you grinned softly, "and what if i said i did?"

"well.." he pondered. you couldn't tell if there was a hint of red painted on his face underneath the blazer, but it seemed like you beat him at his game. "shut up. i'll leave you in the rain l/n."

"i win."

futakuchi looked down at you smiling over the interaction. oh wow. he was hoping you wouldn't hear how fast his heart was beating after seeing you smile.

he studied your face for a while; your curved lips, eyes that were full of light, eyebags that emphasized your facial expressions– he didn't think he'd find himself in a situation like this in a million years.

he smiled watching you smile until you turned around and made eye contact with him. at the moment, it seemed like time had stopped. you felt how cliche it probably sounds and looks, but it's the only way you'd describe the feeling. his brown eyes were the first to look away and you did the same.

you two sat on the tiny red bench again. to break the ice, you decided to ask him what he meant by practice. "i play volleyball. how else do you think i had the arm strength to hold this stupid jacket up?"

"you don't like the uniform either?!" the colour was always tacky in your opinion. it was comfy at times but the green and mustard plus the grey wasn't your thing.

"it's ugly. i'd rather have any other uniform." you nodded at his statement, completely agreeing. "glad we think the same."

a comfortable silence washed over soon. you shut your eyes as it had become a daily routine for you to rest a bit while waiting for the bus.

unknown to futakuchi, he thought you were napping– not resting your eyes. you felt a finger slowly touch your hand. you opened an eye to see a slender pinky gracing you softly.

you discreetly smiled at the small gesture and figured he must be cold after using his blazer to shield the both of you from getting drenched. you moved in closer to lean on his shoulder and interlock his fingers with yours. "i'm not asleep kenji."

when you layed your head on his shoulder, you felt he flinched in a startled manner. you lifted your head a bit and removed your hand from his just to make sure he was okay with your actions.

"you can put your head back dumbass," he assured as his grip around your hand tightened.

during the ride home, kenji had offered you to come with him to a bakery– where he asked you to be his girlfriend.

"isn't that him?" you were at your table holding a juice box in your hands when your best friend pointed a particular person from the window.

you turned around and jumped when you saw futakuchi slap the window you were sitting next to. you raised a brow at the boy that was smirking at your reaction and then lowered your gaze to his hand that was gesturing you to come out.

"sorry, give me a seco-" "go go go!"

you crept out the classroom trying not to draw attention to yourself. "you disappeared for a while again futakuchi," you said, looking at his figure leaning against the wall.

"no kenji today?" his smug eyes made it seem like he had no emotion at all. futakuchi was always so laidback too, you'd always have to assume how he's feeling based on what he says. "yeah, my bad it's because-"

"of volleyball? i figured. aren't the interhigh tournaments soon?" you've heard the word go around in the hallways and your p.e classes a lot.

"spot on y/n," he said without any expression again while shooting finger guns at you.

"not excited?" you literally couldn't tell what he was feeling because of how little he expressed. kamasaki and futakuchi hung out a lot, yet, he didn't adapt a single mannerism from his senior. "huh? no, i am. can't wait to kick seijoh's ass."

you let out a laugh at how bright he finally looked after making a blunt comment.

the bell rang, you two looked up at the speaker and back at each other. "see you later, yeah?" you nodded and watched him form a lazy grin. he pulled you closer, using your arm as an aid and kissed the side of your head before he walked away in the opposite direction.

"yeah nevermind. we didn't beat their ass." futakuchi sat next to you on the red bench. he was wearing something other than his school uniform for once. a black t shirt and white trackpants with a green stripe on each side while his white jacket was in his hands.

"you know what, i still have next year. shit, but it's not gonna be as fun." you leaned back and turned your head to look at him. "why?"

"glad you asked. oikawa graduates this year, i would've had more fun winning against him y'know."

you laughed while futakuchi looked at you in awe, "kenji you little shit."

he nodding offendedly, "i would so torment you if i wasn't in love with you." he stopped to think about what he said impulsively, "didn't mean that, oops," he shrugged.

"you sure?" no response.

it was spring, the cherry blossoms were falling off the trees. you noticed a flower had fallen into futakuchi's brown hair. you gently picked it off his head and he watched you look at the flower carefully.

"fuck, who am i kidding." he grabbed the side of your face and placed his lips on yours. you moved in sync with him, deepening the kiss and shifting yourself slightly to become more comfortable. you rested your hand on his firmly-built chest and felt his heartbeat beating rapidly.

futakuchi's poker face never allowed anyone to know what he was feeling, but at that moment, you felt like you knew every single thing about him.

he pulled out of the kiss, "wait i'm supposed to be mad at you for not coming to my game." you chuckled, "i love you too kenji."

you heard honking coming from behind you and saw your significant other roll his eyes, plus, his grin faded away so quickly. he pulled you into a hug with his hand resting at the back of your head.

"who's that?" your question got answered as soon as you heard a familiar voice, "THATS MY BOY!"

you heard futakuchi tsk, "yeah, just stay like that until they're gone."

"i would stay like this forever if i could."

you caught him off-guard at that moment and there was no sign of a shit-eating smirk or smug look. he glared at his immature seniors in the car before he scowled and flipped them off.

"that's probably the most genuine smile i've seen on him," kamasaki told moniwa who was in the passenger seat.

"nah, that's probably the most emotion i've ever seen on his face."

"he's not gonna let us see that again any time soon though."

"definitely not."

#futakuchi kenji #futakuchi #futakuchi fluff #date tech #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #sports anime #anime

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seaside-stories · 3 years

Text

Macbeth-Theatre Kid AU

This is my Macbeth fanfic. It is an American High School Theatrea Kid AU. Characters: Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Banquo, Malcolm, Macduff, Lady Macduff, Siward, Seyton. Word Count: ~4500

Macbeth walked into the first day of school with a sense of pride. His junior year. Almost the oldest in the school. His last year he didn’t have to worry about college. He was going to have such a good time this year.

But of course not without his best friend Banquo. Macbeth spotted him next to a vending machine.

“Banquo!” Macbeth called. “Banquo! Over here!” Macbeth ran over and clapped Banquo on the shoulder. “Good to see you,” he said.

“Macbeth it’s only been two weeks since I last saw you,” Banquo said.

“I know, but I miss you.” Macbeth hugged Banquo. Banquo chuckled.

“Always so dramatic…” he mused. Macbeth let go of Banquo.

“How else would I get the lead in the school play?” he asked. Banquo gave him a knowing smile and the two of them started inside.

The duo walked down the hall asking about the other’s summer, even though they knew full well that they had spent the better part of it together. Suddenly, a door to Macbeth’s right opened and a pretty blonde girl exited the room.

“Lady!” He greeted the girl. “Walk with us.”

And she did. Lady was Macbeth’s sister. She was somehow always surprised when he acted like they hadn’t seen each other in a million years, even if they had only seen each other last a few hours ago.

“Hello, you two,” Lady greeted Banquo and Macbeth rather impatiently. “Where are you going?”

“To see what show we’re putting on, duh!” Macbeth exclaimed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Banquo rolled his eyes.

“You know auditions aren’t even until the end of September…” he said.

There was a large bulletin board at the end of the hall. It was covered in posters, both new and old. The actual cork had so many holes one might mistake it for a sponge. But lo and behold, right in front was a rather large poster for the show “Guys and Dolls”. The poster read:

Guys and Dolls Auditions

September 28, 29, and 30

Make an appointment today!

[email protected]

“Oh my god!” Macbeth yelled. “I love ‘Guys and Dolls’!”

“I know, me too,” Banquo said, not matching Macbeth’s enthusiasm. Lady side-eyed them both.

“If you like it so much, audition,” she said. Macbeth wouldn’t stop staring at the poster.

“I know I’m going to get Nathan Detroit! I just know it,” he said with confidence. Banquo nodded with a smile.

“Ms. Weird practically told you that you were going to get the part last June,” Banquo remembered. The three of them stared at the poster for just a bit longer before remembering that they had other classes, too.

…

The first day of school. As a junior, no less. Macduff had to admit, he was a bit excited. For school in general, but also for the school play. Last June, Ms. Weird, his best friend and stage manager, Malcolm and he had picked “Guys and Dolls” to perform this year.

What he wasn’t so excited about, however, was Macbeth. Macbeth was one of the most arrogant people Macduff had ever met. Macbeth thought the whole world should revolve around him and that everything should tailor to him. Sorry, kiddo, but the world just doesn’t work that way, Macduff thought.

Macduff walked into the Dunsinane Academy courtyard and caught Malcolm’s eye. Malcolm walked over to him.

“How was your summer?” Malcolm asked.

“Great, and yours?” Macduff deflected. His summer was horribly boring, to say the least.

“Oh, it was amazing. I went to this sleepaway camp that was a lot of fun. They have a Christmas program too for families. I think I’ll go.” Malcolm said.

“Don’t go for too long,” Macduff warned. “I don’t want to be alone with Macbeth while you’re gone.”

Malcolm’s happy demeanor quickly changed after Macbeth was brought up.

“Oh, right. I forgot how much you don’t like him,” he said.

It was truly a wonder how Malcolm could forget after Macduff had nearly been suspended last year for getting in a fistfight with Macbeth.

“It’s alright,” Macduff said. “I’ll be okay. Let’s get to class before we’re late.”

…

Late August turned into Early September turned into almost October. Leaves were falling off trees and some ambitious people began putting out Halloween decorations. Macbeth’s family was one of those families. They had lots of big, gaudy decorations. But there was something more important than the rapid arrival of Halloween: auditions.

Macbeth wanted to get his audition over with quickly so he could be cast, so he made his appointment for the 28th of September. Banquo’s wasn’t until the 29th.

He had prepared “Wait for it” from Hamilton as his audition piece. Ms. Weird had thrown a fit last time someone tried to audition with a pop song.

At Dunsinane, they were lucky enough to have a small black box theatre in which rehearsals and auditions could be held. Macbeth opened the door at exactly 3:24.

“Macbeth? Is that you?” Ms. Weird called from out of sight.

“‘Tis I!” Macbeth said in a loud voice. “The great Macbeth!” He ventured farther into the room and found Ms. Weird sitting behind a desk with her back to the door.

“Are you ready to begin?” She asked. “You have your song and scenes?”

Macbeth nodded. The audition commenced.

“So? How’d it go?” came Banquo’s voice over the phone.

“I think it went very well,” Macbeth said. “Ms. Weird practically told me I’d get the lead.”

“What did she say?”

“She said ‘Very well done, Macbeth. I should think that you will get a sizable role this year!’”

“That’s great!”

“I know!”

…

Macduff walked into Ms. Weird’s black box theatre. It was arguably one of his favorite rooms in the whole school.

“Hey, Ms. Weird,” Macduff greeted.

“Macduff! Wonderful timing. Malcolm and I were just going to get started on casting.” Ms. Weird indicated to her left, where Malcolm was sitting with a computer in his lap.

“Hold on, hold on,” Malcolm requested. “A few more minutes, please. I am no tech genius over here.”

“They’ve been recorded? I’ve always wanted permanent documentation of complete showoffs!” Macduff said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Once Malcolm had finally figured out how to work the video program, the three of them huddled around the laptop to watch the videos.

There was one that stood out to Macduff: A senior called Duncan Inverness. Macduff told Malcolm so, and Malcolm agreed.

“Ms. Weird? What do you think about Duncan?” Malcolm asked. Ms. Weird took a moment to consider him before giving her answer.

“He seems great! He’s a senior, right?” she asked. Macduff and Malcolm nodded in agreement. “Good. We can cast him as Nathan Detroit.”

…

The cast list went up on the morning of October 2nd. And that was the day Macbeth’s life was ruined.

GUYS AND DOLLS CAST LIST:

Nathan Detroit - Duncan Inverness

Miss Adelaide - Seyton

Sarah Brown - Lucy Duff

Sky Masterson - Donalbain Inverness

Nicely-Nicely Johnson - Macbeth

Macbeth didn’t read any further than that. He was utterly devastated. He wanted to scream and shout and break some things. How is this possible? Macbeth wondered. Ms. Weird practically told me I was going to get a lead! Nicely-Nicely Johnson? What kind of a role is that?

“Hey! I got Harry the Horse!” Banquo’s voice ripped Macbeth out of his thoughts. “And you got Nicely-Nicely Johnson! Awesome! I love his part in “Sit Down, You’re Rocking the Boat.” Macbeth stumbled past him, down the hall.

“I need to find Lady,” he mumbled, dazed.

Lady was outside, under a tree, completely oblivious to Macbeth’s devastation.

“Lady!” Macbeth called. “Lady!”

“What do you want,” Lady said, exasperated. She marked her book with her thumb and looked up and him expectantly.

“Lady, I got Nicely-Nicely Johnson,” Macbeth explained. Lady did not see what was wrong.

“That’s great!” She said. “Doesn’t he have a solo song?”

“That’s not the point!” Macbeth lamented. He collapsed on the ground next to Lady and buried his face in his hands.

“Dear God,” Lady swore. “If you want that lead, why don’t you do something about it. I mean, you said you’d do anything just last night, didn’t you?”

Macbeth looked up at her.

“I did say that, yes,” Macbeth agreed. Lady looked at him with a sly look. Macbeth returned it with a blank one. It was a few moments before he realized what she was implying. Then a crafty smile took over his features.

That night Macbeth sped through his homework even faster than usual. Then, he opened his computer and began to type furiously. Google, Facebook, Dunsinane Academy website, the city newspaper, anywhere Macbeth thought he could find dirt on Duncan. He was going to get that role no matter what it took.

…

Macduff saw Duncan walking in the opposite direction from him. He seemed to be going somewhere in a hurry.

“Hi, Duncan,” Macduff greeted. Duncan threw him a dirty look and sped past him. Macduff was confused--he got the lead part! What did he have to be upset at him about?

Macduff opened the door and stepped inside. There he saw Macbeth, with a smug look on his face. His friend Banquo stood next to him with a pained smile on his face.

“I’m so happy for you,” Banquo said, sounding insincere.

Macduff turned to see what the two boys were looking at. There he saw Ms. Weird erasing Duncan’s name on the whiteboard as Nathan Detroit, and rewriting Macbeth’s name.

No.

This cannot be happening.

Macduff tried to play it cool, and not freak out. He wanted to keep his position as set designer, after all.

“What’s going on?” he asked, even though he knew full well what was going on.

“Macbeth found some rather...unsavory information regarding Duncan,” Ms. Weird explained. “As a reward, I agreed to recast him. He was going to be our second choice, after all.”

Macduff had forgotten about that. He had only agreed to let Macbeth be the secret understudy because they had no one else who had enough talent to do it. Something felt wrong about this though…

“What did Duncan do that we had to cut him?” Macduff asked.

Macbeth looked even smugger than before (if that was even possible).

“I heard that he cheated on his Physics final last year. And, I figured that Ms. Weird would want to know,” he said. He pointed to a handwritten sign on the door that read “We support academic integrity in this classroom”.

Macduff recalled when this sign was put up. It had been because a few actors had been cheating on their tests. The administration had asked Ms. Weird to cut them from the show. It hadn’t hurt the production much since those actors were in the ensemble, but since then academic integrity had been a very serious topic in Ms. Weird’s classroom.

“Duncan’s not the type…” Macduff mused.

“No, but he did,” Ms. Weird said seriously.

Macduff shook his head and sighed. He was sorry to see Duncan go. He looked up at Macbeth, to see if he showed any sign of remorse at all, but he was still smiling brightly, oblivious to the fact that he probably cost Duncan his theatrical future.

…

Despite his smug demeanor, Macbeth was terrified. Duncan had not actually cheated on his physics final last year. What really happened was that he took a practice test with notes. The test was not meant to be open book, so his teacher let it slide with a few docked points. All Macbeth had to do was fudge a few details and bing bang boom, Duncan was cut and Macbeth was now the lead.

Macduff seemed less than thrilled about this, but Macbeth wasn’t miffed. He knew that Macduff didn’t like him much anyway.

Malcolm came in behind Macduff and pushed past him.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Macduff asked him.

“I just saw Duncan throwing rocks and screaming outside,” Malcolm said. “What’s that all about?” Macduff thew Macbeth a cool look.

“I’ll let Macbeth explain,” he said.

Macbeth was getting sick of explaining this more than once. He wasn’t prepared to have to tell everyone who came in the door.

“Duncan violated the academic integrity rule so he was cut,” Macbeth said simply. Banquo nodded behind him.

Malcolm threw up his hands.

“Are you serious?” he shouted. “This can’t be true.” Malcolm stabbed an accusatory finger at Macbeth. He left in a huff, muttering to himself. Macduff put his bag down and ran after him.

“So, when’s the first rehearsal?” Macbeth asked.

…

Macduff sped down the hall after Malcolm.

“Malcolm! Hold on!” Macduff shouted. Malcolm kept speed walking until he found the room he was looking for. He threw the door open and slammed it behind him. Macduff followed him inside.

“Malcolm?” Macduff asked the room. The two of them were alone. All of the desks were stacked at the back of the classroom, the walls were barren, and the lights were off. The classroom appeared to be unused, but even so, it was open.

Macduff caught sight of Malcolm as he was throwing a script at the wall. He threw it with force and papers exploded everywhere. Malcolm covered his face with his hands.

“It was supposed to go well this year,” He all but sobbed.

“Hey,” Macduff said consolingly, setting aside his own anger for a moment. “It’ll be just fine, okay? We can fix it. We’ll figure it out.”

The two of them sat on the floor for a few minutes, not saying a word, before picking up the script, which was quite a few pages, and heading to the woodshop to begin working on the set.

…

Macduff and Malcolm didn’t come back that day. Banquo and Macbeth sat together while Macbeth highlighted all of his new lines. Banquo, who had been in the ensemble before, took on Macbeth’s previous role as Nicely-Nicely Johnson.

“I love his song,” Banquo had said.

“I know, Banquo,” Macbeth said.

When the final bell rang at the end of the day, Macbeth was anxious to find Lady. He had to confide his troubles in her.

“Lady,” he said. “Are you sure this was the right thing to do? I mean, Malcolm and Macduff are really upset. They’re probably going to bust me!”

“It’ll be fine, Macbeth. You’re going to seem suspicious. You got this far, just stay on the down-low.” Lady told him. Macbeth took a breath of confidence and stool taller than he had before. He put on a smile and escorted Lady out of the school.

Later that evening, Banquo called. This wasn’t uncommon, so Macbeth had no qualms about answering.

“Macbeth?” Banquo asked.

“What’s going on?” Macbeth replied.

“Macbeth, I feel like something fishy is going on,” Banquo confessed.

“Like what?” Macbeth was getting nervous.

“Like, in the show.”

“You mean how Nathan and Adelaide never get married? I know, it’s so weird.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“I mean...I don’t mean to say that you’re a liar or something...but Macduff was right, I think. Duncan isn’t the type to do something like that. It feels wrong to have ruined him like that. You know?”

Macbeth felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him.

“No, I don’t know. I’ll see you tomorrow, Banquo,” he said coldly.

“Macbeth, wait-”

Macbeth ended the call.

…

That day after school Macduff went home with Malcolm. They had started planning out the set for the show that afternoon but could hardly focus, so they put it off until later.

Later is here.

Macduff scribbled an idea down in his notebook.

“I was thinking we could do something like this,” he showed Malcolm. “It could either be a drawing on plywood or a drop or something but I don’t think we should have any other drops.” Malcolm nodded.

“That looks cool. You can draw it on or something and then we can get some ensemble people to paint it. For techie points.” Malcolm said.

“Yeah,” Macduff agreed.

The design was a cartoonish New York skyline. Windows were yellow, the sky was navy with white stars, and each building had a long spire.

“Okay, what else?” Malcolm asked. Macduff consulted his notebook.

“Shop facades, The mission, something for Havana, a platform for the Hot Box, and so, so many other things.” Macduff said, burying his face in Malcolm’s bed.

“We can draw up some plans and delegate this stuff to the newbies. Ms. Weird will show them how to do it.” Malcolm told Macduff.

“Are you sure?” Macduff asked.

“Yes,” Malcolm said with determination. “Because while they’re doing that, we are going to sabotage Macbeth.”

…

Macbeth was enjoying his time at the top. He truly was. But it was not without this horrible guilt following him wherever he went. He was avoiding Banquo today--partially because Banquo was also avoiding him. But also…

There were a few people in Ms. Weird’s room when Macbeth got there. It was lunch hour, after all.

“Ms. Weird?” Macbeth asked with trepidation.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Ms. Weird acknowledged him. Macbeth could hardly bring himself to say the words. But he needed this assurance.

“I caught Banquo cheating on an important project last night.”

Ms. Weird looked down at the table and sighed before looking back up at Macbeth.

“Thank you for telling me, dear,” she said. She turned around and began editing the cast list on the whiteboard again.

“Macduff and Malcolm are going to have my head on a plate…” Macbeth could hear her muttering. Me too, Macbeth thought. He left quickly to find Lady. He figured she could give him some respite before he had to face Banquo.

But when has Macbeth ever been that lucky? As he was leaving, Banquo came through the front doors of the school building.

“Hey,” Macbeth tried. Banquo sped past him into Ms. Weird’s room. It was only a few moments before he came storming back out again. Banquo slammed his shoulder against Macbeth’s on his way back outside. Macbeth was alone in the hallway.

Macbeth found Lady sitting alone in a secluded corner of the school yard. When he sat down next to her, she startled.

“Are you okay?” Macbeth asked her.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Lady said very unconvincinly.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just don’t want to see certain people right now.”

“Oh, should I leave?”

“No.” Lady put her hand on Macbeth’s thigh. “You can stay.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Banquo got cut today,” Macbeth said.

“What? Why?” Lady demanded.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” Macbeth regretted telling her anything.

“I swear to god, Macbeth, if this was your fault I’ll kill you. Duncan, already hates me because I’m your sister. Why don’t you keep adding people to his army, huh?” Lady berated him. Macbeth was at a loss. There was no way he could come out of this on top unless he let Lady take the fall. Which,

“You seem to be handling it pretty well,” Macbeth observed.

Lady slapped him in the face.

“I changed my mind. Go away.”

Macbeth obeyed and left quickly. As he approached the school doors he saw Banquo leaving out of the corner of his eye. Macbeth decided to go back to Ms. Weird’s room.

Ms. Weird wasn’t there when Macbeth arrived. He decided to sit on the long table at the front of the room.

Macbeth noticed a magic 8 ball sitting near the white board. He decided to ask a few questions.

“Will I become rich and famous?” he asked.

Don’t count on it.

“Okay…” Macbeth was a bit disappointed. He decided to ask some more questions.

“Will Guys and Dolls be the best Dunsinane production yet?”

As I see it, yes.

“Sweet!” Then he remembered Macduff and Malcolm.

“What about Malcolm and Macduff?” He asked.

Concentrate and ask again.

Right, Macbeth thought. I can’t be vague.

“Will Malcolm and Macduff hinder my greatness?”

Better not tell you now.

“Fine, be like that.” Macbeth said and set the 8 ball down.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a girl walked in. Macbeth recognized her as Maduff’s younger sister.

“Is Ms. Weird here?” she asked Macbeth.

“No, sweetheart, she isn’t,” Macbeth said, an idea forming. He had a bad feeling about Macduff and Malcolm, and he knew exactly what to do about it.

…

Malcolm and Macduff sat down next to each other in their next class, their fingers intertwined. They both gave each other a look of knowing: this was their last respite before rehearsal today. It was not the first, but they were nowhere near their last. Malcolm and Macduff were not excited, to say the least.

After class, Macduff and Malcolm split up, albeit begrudgingly. Malcolm had to supervise the rehearsal and answer any stupid questions the actors undoubtably had, while Macduff was taking Siward and a few other freshmen to the woodshop to work on the set. One of those freshmen was supposed to be his sister, but she was not here.

“Has anyone seen my sister today?” Macduff asked the group. He was sure he saw her going to first period this morning but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

They all shook their heads no. Let me ask Malcolm if she’s in Ms. Weird’s room, Macduff thought. He took out his phone.

Macduff: hey is my sister near you

Malcolm: no why

Macduff: i cant find her

Malcolm: so why don't you text her

What a great idea. Why hadn’t Macduff thought of it before? Macduff opted to give her a call. It rang a few times before she picked up.

“Hello?” came a shaky voice.

“Hey,” Macduff greeted. “Where are you?” All Macduff could hear was the sound of ragged breathing for a few moments.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll see you when I get home. Oh, and by the way, don’t try to get me back while that group of jerk-wads are still there,” Macduff’s sister said through quiet sobs.

“What jerk-wads?” Macduff asked nobody, since the call had ended. Macduff knew everyone on the cast, and they were all so friendly and kind, except…

“I need to go,” Macduff told the freshmen. “You all can go home.”

…

Macbeth was running lines with Seyton when Macduff burst in. He had a determined glint in his eye. Malcolm walked up to him and they started chatting animatedly. Macbeth was having trouble focusing on the scene.

Macduff and Malcolm both looked back at Macbeth before leaving the room, leaving Macbeth with a sinking feeling.

Once he was sure Macduff and Malcolm wouldn’t come back, Macbeth grabbed the 8 ball again and shook it.

“Are Macduff and Malcolm plotting against me?” Macbeth asked it.

Outlook not so good.

This put Macbeth somewhat at ease. The rehearsal continued as usual. Afterward, Macbeth went home with no qualms about Malcolm and Macduff.

…

His first mistake, arguably. Macduff had seen Macbeth shaking the 8 ball through the little window in the door.

“What are you looking at?” Malcolm had asked.

“Macbeth is consulting an 8 ball,” Macduff had said, chuckling.

He and Malcolm came up with a plan to get Macbeth expelled from the theatre program: confront him. It was so simple they almost didn’t consider it.

“Really? Who’s gonna believe us? Who’s gonna prove him wrong?” Macduff had asked.

“Duncan, and Banquo. And your sister,” Malcolm had reassured him.

“And after this ordeal is all over?”

“We’ll restore people’s old roles. And continue as normal.”

They set the date for Friday. That meant they had Wednesday and Thursday to talk to Banquo and Duncan and to formulate some backup plans. They would not leave for Christmas break before this was set right.

…

Macbeth walked into school on Friday morning nervous. He had felt confident on Wednesday afternoon and on Thursday, but walking into school was giving him second thoughts. He saw Duncan and some of his friends hanging out together, side-eying Macbeth. Banquo eyed Macbeth from afar and Macduff’s sister had a strange glint in her eye.

On Thursday evening, Lady came down with a fever. Their parents wouldn’t let her come to school. Macbeth was alone and paranoid.

Macbeth walked from class to class trying to be as big and intimidating as possible, to hide his fear. He would not let these people, who were arguably lesser than him, know that he wanted to become as small and invisible as possible.

Dread could not even begin to describe what Macbeth felt when he approached Ms. Weird’s room that afternoon. He pushed open the door with immense trepidation. Seyton and Siward were chatting in the corner, but there was no one else there.

Macbeth snuck behind Ms. Weird’s desk and grabbed the magic 8 ball one last time.

“Will I perform in the show this winter?” Macbeth asked. A direct question has to work, he thought.

The 8 ball landed on the tip between two responses. Macbeth shook it again.

Ask again later.

At that moment, Malcolm pushed the door open, followed by Macduff, his sister, Banquo, Duncan, Ms. Weird, and Mr. Birnham, the principal.

“Hello, Macbeth. Nice to see you,” Macduff greeted Macbeth with a cool tone. Macbeth gave a small wave.

“Macbeth,” Mr. Birnham said. “Have a seat. Please.”

Macbeth sat and Macbeth listened. He listened as Mr. Birnham recounted what had happened in the last two weeks. Macbeth’s peers nodded along with Mr. Birnham and gave each other premature celebratory smiles.

“Now, you understand that you will not be able to participate in the Dunsinane Theatre Program anymore, yes?” Mr. Birnham asked.

“What?” Macbeth exclaimed. “That’s ridiculous!”

“This is what you get for stepping on your friends,” Banquo said.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Macduff gave Banquo a high five.

Macbeth stood and walked toward the door. He took one last look at Ms. Weird’s classroom--which he would never see again--before leaving to go home. Macbeth just barely saw Ms. Weird editing the cast list on the whiteboard out of the corner of his eye.

…

The door closed quietly. The people in the room just stared at it for a moment. Then, Malcolm enveloped Macduff in a bone-crushing hug.

“Finally, we can get on with the show!” he exclaimed.

Someone started playing Green Day’s “Good Riddance”, and someone else put a box of cookies on Ms. Weird’s desk. The celebration was well under way.

It was a few days before Christmas vacation was supposed to begin. Dunsinane’s production of Guys and Dolls was about to close.

Malcolm stood in the wings. Macduff was in the booth. The actors were ready for the show to begin.

“Cue 1, stand by…” Malcolm said.

“Standing by…”Macduff responded.

The lights in the house went down.

“Cue 1, go.”

Macduff pressed the play button in the program. The music started.

“I’ve got the horse right here! His name is Paul Revere…” The actor began. This was going to be the best Dunsinane Production in a while.

#I really thought this would be longer #I was writing this for like 4 days #thats kind of disappointing #macbeth fic #fanfic

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junker-town · 3 years

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Western Illinois, Year 40, 2046-2047

The final season of our sim dynasty with Western Illinois in College Hoops 2K8 is here.

Welcome back to our simulated dynasty with the Western Illinois Leathernecks in College Hoops 2K8. You can find a full explanation of this project + spoiler-free links to previous seasons here. Check out the introduction to this series from early April 2020 for full context. As a reminder, we simulate every game in this series and only control the recruiting and coaching strategies. Dynasty mode runs for 40 years.

Before we pick up with the Leathernecks at the start of Year 40, here’s a recap of everything that happened last season:

Western Illinois entered Year 39 trying to three-peat as national champions for the first time in program history. We lost two starters early to the NBA coming into the season, but still had enough talent to be ranked No. 10 overall in the preseason polls.

We ran through the regular season schedule, losing only one game to UCLA during the non-conference season and sweeping Summit League opponents once again. We entered the NCAA tournament at 29-1 on the year and earned a No. 4 seed to the big dance.

We beat Brown in round one, knocked off Georgia Tech in the round of 32, beat Indiana in the Sweet 16, and lost to Florida in the Elite Eight. We know enter the final season of my career tied with John Wooden with 10 national championships.

We added three players in our last ever recruiting class: five-star JUCO SF Jerald Obasohan, four-star SG Erwin Walls, and four-star PF Kenny Butler.

Here’s a first look at our roster for Year 40:

It feels like only yesterday that a fresh-faced, 25-year-old came to the small town of Macomb, Illinois with big dreams. Coach Rick was hired by Western Illinois to do the impossible: win a national championship with arguably the worst team in college basketball. After 39 seasons at the helm, our tiny program has accomplished that and so much more. Now it’s time to hang it up.

Our journey at Western Illinois is finally coming to an end. In literal terms, College Hoops 2K8 forces mandatory retirement upon coaches in dynasty mode after 40 seasons. All good stories need closure either way. As we start our final season, we have some big stakes attached to our swan song.

Western Illinois has won 10 national championships in the Ricky Charisma era. That ties us with UCLA legend John Wooden for the most in history. What started as a mission to win a single national championship has now left us with a different goal: to become the undisputed greatest program in the history of the sport.

While we failed in our bid to three-peat last season — falling to Florida in the Elite Eight — we did bring back all four breakout juniors for this season. We only lost starting center DJ Foster to graduation. Yeah, it’s been a while since we last published Year 39 (thanks for your patience), so let’s go over the roster:

PG Christano Ngounou, junior, 89 overall: Ngounou made major strides after being forced into the starting lineup last season, and now looks like a rock solid contributor going into our final year. An international recruit out of Cameroon, Ngounou is a fast 6’3 guard with lockdown defensive ability and a slightly above average three-point shot. We have bigger names on this squad who will be expected to carry the scoring load, but Ngounou is going to play a huge role because he’s way better than every other point guard on the roster. We need quality minutes from him in the tournament. Former five-star international recruit with B potential.

SG Bernie Doyle, redshirt senior, 92 overall: Doyle is an incredible talent who enters his senior year looking to fully blossom into a superstar. The 6’9 shooting guard uses his immense size on both ends of the floor. He’s elite at getting into the passing lanes and forcing steals (a team-high 1.8 per game as a junior) on the defensive end, and has a sweet three-point stroke offensively. Doyle is such a smooth scorer and dominant defender that it feels like he has the natural talent to develop into an all-great in his senior year. Let’s hope he’s up to the challenge. Former No. 36 overall recruit from Detroit with C potential. Projected lottery pick.

SF Floyd Keller, redshirt senior, 92 overall: Keller checks every box for a small forward. He has good size at 6’7. He has a three-point rating in the mid-80s. He’s the best dunker on the team. He’s an elite offensive rebounder for a wing with a rating in the low 90s, which helps equip him to play minutes at the four. After a tough shooting night in our Elite Eight loss last season — he went 1-for-7 from three — we’ll need Keller to be consistently great if we want one more run through the bracket. Former No. 101 overall recruit out of Dallas with C+ potential. Projected second round pick.

PF Oscar Fray, redshirt senior, 88 overall: Fray enters his third year as a starter with a fascinating combination of size and skill that could set him up for a breakout senior year. The 7-foot power forward is a great three-point shooter for his position with a rating just below 80. Defensively, he’s the top-rated shot blocker on the team, and also does a pretty good job on the glass. Former No. 118 overall recruit out of Lynn, MA with C potential. Projected second round pick.

C Brody Munoz, redshirt senior, 92 overall: Munoz finally gets the spotlight as a senior after backing up DJ Foster — a one-time NCAA tournament Most Outstanding Player — for his entire career up to this point. We’re expected big things, and not just because he’s tied for the highest rated player on the roster going into the regular season. What Munoz lacks in elite size at 6’11 he can make up for with strength, agility, and rebounding. We expect him to be really good at forcing turnovers, grabbing putbacks, and helping fortify the paint. Former No. 169 overall recruit (No. 6 center) out of Nashville with B potential. Projected lottery pick.

We have an incredibly deep bench for our final season. Center Logan Polk (85 overall) will be our sixth man, and should be able to form a three-man front court rotation with the two starters in the tournament. After that, we have a lot of options but not a lot of good options.

Here’s the rest of the bench: wing Jaycee Queen (80 overall), wing Jerald Obasohan (79 overall), guard Archie Howell (78 overall), wing/guard James Haranga (74 overall), guard Edwin Walls (74 overall), and power forward Kenny Butler (74 overall).

This is really it. Year 40. The last dance. What a ride it has been. We start the season at No. 4 in the polls.

How did the regular season go?

For our final regular season, we tried to schedule a good mix of local schools and historic big conference rivals with a couple in-season tournaments thrown in for good measure.

Here’s how the regular season went:

Win over Bradley

Win over Nebraska

Win over UTEP

Loss to Southern Illinois

Win over Florida

Loss to Northwestern

Win over New Mexico

Win over DePaul

That sets up a rivalry game against Illinois. We’ve played the Illini in almost every season, and we don’t want to end this dynasty without one more dub. The losses to Southern Illinois and Northwestern were a real bummer, and we need a palate cleanser. Let’s go!

Big win, 102-68. Look at Cristano Ngounou hanging 17 points and six assists on the Illini. Love seeing both starters in the front court — seniors Oscar Fray (13 points, 10 rebounds) and Brody Munoz (18 points, 11 rebounds) — each dropping a double-double, too. And how about our new five-star JUCO addition Obasohan chipping in 12 points off the bench? Really promising performance from the boys.

We get a big win over Kansas in our next game. That sets up another marquee game with a program we don’t like very much out of the state of North Carolina: Duke. We’ve battling with Duke on the court and on the recruiting trail for 40 freaking years. Can we end this rivalry with a dub?

Ugh, loss, 88-83. Nice games from Bernie Doyle (19 points, four assists) and Oscar Fray (14 points, 12 rebounds), but it isn’t enough. That’s our third loss of the season. Get bent, Duke.

We end the year with three more non-conference games.

Win over Illinois-Chicago

Win over American

Win over Arizona State

While we may have lost the final battle to Duke, I won the war over Coach K with a significantly better career by any measure (more on that in a minute). Now it’s time to jump into conference play in the Summit League.

Did we go undefeated in conference season?

Yes we did, another perfect 18-0 stretch.

Now we enter the conference tournament. Can we punch one more automatic bid to the NCAA tournament?

Win over UMKC

Win over Southern Utah

Win over UL-Calcutta

We’re going to the NCAA tournament for the last time, but that isn’t even the headliner after winning the Summit League. Im taking home the conference tournament championship, I won game No. 1,171 of my career. That currently puts me ahead of Coach K for the most wins all-time.

We have built a great legacy at Western Illinois. Before we enter the NCAA tournament, let’s take a look at our statistical leaders:

What a year for Munoz. Dude sat on the bench for four seasons before finally getting a starting spot, and all he did was lead our team in scoring at 17.2 points per game. Fray was awesome, too, averaging a hair under 15 points per game while chipping in nearly two blocks and six rebounds per game. It’s good to see Keller and Doyle both hit double-figures in scoring. I’m a bit surprised Cristano couldn’t even put up seven points a night after his big game against Illinois, but the assist and steals numbers are solid. We’re going to need him in March.

The Leathernecks are heading into the NCAA tournament at 32-3 on the year. I can’t wait to see what seed we get.

2047 NCAA tournament

Well, we couldn’t end this dynasty without getting swindled by the Selection Committee one more time. We’re a No. 6 seed in the NCAA tournament. I thought we should have been a top-four seed without question.

We’ll open the tournament with a game against No. 11 seed Syracuse. Sheesh. Before we get to the game, let’s check in on our roster one more time:

I’m loving the way this group progressed through the year. We have two awesome wing scorers with an elite combination of size and shooting in Keller and Doyle. We have plenty of beef up front with Munoz, Fray, and Polk. Ngounou entered the program as a 77 overall and shot up to a 92 in three years without a redshirt. The bench also really improved during the season and should give us plenty of different lineup options in March.

This is going to be a tough run, starting with Syracuse. The Orange have knocked us out of the big dance before, and consistently put together really strong teams.

Our last dance starts now. As always, we’re simulating every game, I’m not controlling the ‘Necks.

Let’s go!

Win, 105-73! What an absolute beatdown. We’ve moving on to the round of 32.

Long-time followers of the series will know that our Leathernecks have always been known as a second half team. It happened in a big way in this game. Syracuse ended the first half strong to cut our lead to nine points, but we quickly turned it into a blowout out of the break.

I thought this was a tremendous all-around team effort. Six players hit double-figures in scoring with no one putting up more than Floyd Keller’s 15 points. Everyone who played recorded an assist. I loved this play from the first half when we set two screens for our five-star JUCO Obasohan that helped get him an easy layup.

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Our bench is a big question mark coming into this tournament, mostly because it’s filled with a lot of fresh faces who haven’t played big minutes in clutch spots before. I have to say, the performance of our reserves in our tournament opener was super encouraging. Obasohan in particular looks like a keeper after scoring 10 points on 4-of-5 shooting and knocking down a three. We always need wing depth, and he should be able to provide that on this run.

The clear highlight of Obasohan’s night: this sick two-handed dunk in transition for an and-one.

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We love to turn defense into offense, and Ngounou and Doyle’s ability to get into the passing lanes really helps us out there.

Speaking of Ngounou in transition: he had a beautiful finish on the break to put the game fully out of reach. That’s what you want out of your point guard.

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The win sets up a second round game against Colorado State

The Rams have been a solid program throughout this sim dynasty, regularly making NCAA tournament appearances. We have a decisive edge in talent heading into this game.

We are one win away from going to the Sweet 16 and extended our run in the big dance. One time, ‘Necks. Let’s go!

Win, 109-79! We’re going to the Sweet 16!

We didn’t need to be a second half team in this one. Our ‘Necks blew the doors off Colorado State from the opening tip-off. I thought we played a great game offensively thanks to our inside-out ball movement.

We had five scorers in double-figures in this one, but it was senior starters Bernie Doyle and Oscar Fray leading the charge. We know Doyle is capable of taking over a game at his best, and he was awesome in this one: 20 points on 7-of-13 shooting from the field and 4-of-6 shooting from three. The real story was Fray, though.

Fray was probably the least appealing long-term prospect of our recruiting class when he entered the program alongside Doyle, Keller, and Munoz. That was mostly because of his 74 rating and C potential grade. While he’s always been rated a few points lower than his classmates, Fray’s skill set on the court is so important to us. He’s a massive 7-foot power forward who can protect the rim and shoot threes. What more do you want?

Fray went off in this game: 22 points, eight rebounds, two assists, two steals on 9-of-11 shooting. I love watching the big man shoot from deep. This was from NBA range.

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Here’s one more catch-and-shoot three for good measure.

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Fray might get slept on a little on this team, but he’s absolutely critical to our success if we want to win it all.

I also want to shout-out the bench for another solid performance. I liked what I saw out of Obasohan (11 points) and Howell (10 points). Since we already have two Obasohan clips in this post, why not make it three? Love him hitting this triple in the first half to help us open up the lead.

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We’re rollin’.

The win sets up a Sweet 16 game vs. Alabama

We’re now four wins away from ending this dynasty with a national championship. A Sweet 16 game against Bama is going to be an absolute battle.

In our simulated future, the Tide have become a basketball school. This program seems to make the tournament every year, and they’ve given us plenty of trouble in the past.

A trip to the Elite Eight is on the line. Let’s go!

Win, 112-69! We’re onto the Elite Eight!

Say it with me: SECOND. HALF. TEAM. After a tight first half left us with a six-point lead coming into the break, our ‘Necks absolutely torched the nets in the second half to come away with the blowout win. Seriously: we scored 66 points in the final 20 minutes. That was an offensive clinic at its best.

I had a good feeling about the second half when Cristano got this three hit the rim like 50 times before falling. Sometimes you need some good luck on your side.

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A couple possessions later, Floyd Keller came down a ripped another three. We finally had a double-digit lead, and we’d never look back.

It was great to see Keller (15 points) get going from deep. He hit all three of his attempts from beyond the arc.

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While we don’t have any clips of the front court from this game, they absolutely deserve credit for the win.

Fray turned in another incredible performance, this one somehow even better than his last. He ended the game with 25 points, 14 rebounds, four assists, three steals, and three blocks on 10-of015 shooting. He didn’t attempt a three (booooo) but he dominated the game on both ends. His front court mate Munoz was almost as good. The senior center finished with 20 points and 16 rebounds. We kept going inside — Munoz and Fray combined for 35 (!) field goal attempts — and they were making the Bama defense pay.

Not the best Bernie Buckets game (9 points on 3-of-10 shooting), but I clipped this shot from the first half, so I might as well embed it here.

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Elite Eight, here we come.

The win sets up an Elite Eight matchup against No. 1 seed Indiana

Our run in the NCAA tournament has been a breeze up to this point, but I fear things about to get a lot more difficult. Our plucky No. 6 seed is about to run into one of college basketball’s blue bloods: the top-seeded Indiana Hoosiers.

The Elite Eight has been something of a bugaboo for us. We lost in this round last year. We’ve lost in this round many times before. I don’t want it to happen again.

A Final Four trip is on the line. As always, we’re watching a simulated version of this game; I am not controlling the Leathernecks. Let’s go!

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***

Loss, 96-86. Oh my gosh. And just like that, our dream of ending this dynasty with a national title is over.

I am devastated. I really thought this team was good enough to send me out on top, but it wasn’t meant to be. The Hoosiers’ outside shooters did us in. Indiana’s guard-heavy lineup caught fire from deep (10-of-21 for 47.6 percent), and our perimeter attack couldn’t keep up. We only hit 6-of-22 (27.3 percent) attempts from three.

What happened to our second half team this time? We were only down two going into halftime, but we were outscored by eight over the final 20 minutes. Tough scene.

There were some solid individual performances. Munoz went out strong with 23 points and 10 rebounds. Bernie Doyle dropped 21 points and hit this three-pointer to keep us in it early.

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Floyd Keller just didn’t give us enough on the wing. He shot 1-of-8 from three in the loss. He did give us a little juice in transition, at least.

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Cristano played all 40 minutes, and had eight points and nine assists. I really wish I got another year with him as a senior next season.

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Unfortunately there is no next season. After 40 years at Western Illinois, our sim dynasty is over. Here are some final numbers on the series:

Final record: 1,177-213

10 national championships (tied with John Wooden for the most in men’s college basketball history)

15 Final Four appearances

25 Sweet 16 appearances

Final NCAA tournament record: 113-27

38 Summit League regular season championships

35 Summit League tournament championships

38 seasons with 20+ wins

61 players drafted

The thing I’m most proud of? After we made the NCAA tournament for the first time in Year 3, we didn’t miss it again the rest of this dynasty.

Is Ricky Charisma the greatest men’s college basketball coach ever?

I think so. Here’s how we stack up to other top coaches in NCAA history in important categories.

Total wins

Ricky Charisma: 1,179

Mike Krzyzewski: 1,170

Jim Boeheim: 1,083

Roy Williams: 903

Bob Knight: 899

Dean Smith: 879

Jim Calhoun: 877

Adolph Rupp: 876

Bob Huggins: 828

Eddie Sutton: 806

Tournament wins

Ricky Charisma: 110

Mike Krzyzewski: 94

Roy Williams: 77

Dean Smith: 65

Jim Boeheim: 57

Tom Izzo: 52

Jim Calhoun: 49

John Wooden: 47

Final Four appearances

Ricky Charisma: 15

Mike Krzyzewski: 12

John Wooden: 12

Dean Smith: 11

Roy Williams: 9

Tom Izzo: 8

Rick Pitino: 7

Denny Crum, Adolph Rupp, John Calipari: 6

Consecutive tournament appearances

Western Illinois: 36

Kansas: 31

North Carolina: 27

Arizona: 25

Duke: 24

Michigan State: 23

Gonzaga: 22

Winning percentage

Ricky Charisma: 84.7

Mark Few: 83.44

Sam Burton: 83.33

Clair Bee: 82.444

Adolph Rupp: 82.1

John Wooden: 80.3

National championships

Ricky Charisma: 10

John Wooden: 10

Mike Krzyzewski: 5

Adolph Rupp: 4

Roy Williams: 3

Jim Calhoun: 3

Bobby Knight: 3

Who is the best player in Western Illinois history?

That’s the big question within the fanbase right now. Before we get to it, let’s look back at our greatest recruiting wins.

We landed five five-star recruits out of the domestic high school ranks during my time at Western Illinois. We also signed nine five-star JUCO recruits, and six five-star international recruits from places like New Zealand (shout-out Dave French), Montenegro (anti shout-out Vitor Andrisevic), France (what up, Kim Kone!), and Cameroon.

The highest-rated recruit in program history was Sammy Yan at No. 10 overall in 2032. He was pretty much a disappointment. The program’s all-time leading scorer was center Vinnie Harmon with 2,452 career points during his career. He was the No. 122 overall recruit and the No. 8 center (those that followed the series or played the game know that centers are always weirded underrated on the recruiting trail).

Here are some more numbers during tournament games only (aka, the games we streamed), from the amazing Leathernecks Database maintained by our fans:

The highest rated player in program history is a tie between small forward Nic Cummings and point guard Duncan Martinez, who are the only players to reach 97 overall. Cummings in particular is a great choice for the GOAT. He ended his career with three national titles, though only one as a starter. He’s top-10 for me, but not No. 1.

The people’s choice for the GOAT is Deke Van, the legendary center who helped carry us to our first national title in Year 8. Deke’s turn from from Year 7 goat to Year 8 GOAT is the most memorable we’ve ever had. We couldn’t have done any of this without you, Deke.

When Coach tell you youre guarding @deke_van https://t.co/RDhmDAPRA8 pic.twitter.com/fm2udgvMZT

— Ryan Thomas (@RTtheSID) May 10, 2020

As the series went on, other great players emerged who finished with gaudier stats and better resumes.

My personal favorite might be Bert Draughan, Mr. Basketball out of Chicago (No. 29 overall recruit), who went on to win a title with us in Year 13 and also starred for our Year 11 team that began the season 35-0 before losing to Michigan State in the Final Four. Harmon is another fine choice. Skip Clemmons helped us win three national titles in Year 23, Year 24, and Year 26. Albert Jagla, Clemmons’ former teammate, played a big role in our first back-to-back championship squad, and is arguably the greatest perimeter bucket-getter in program history.

All-time favorite moment? Impossible to say. The first one that comes to mind is Kim Kone’s go-ahead corner three in the 2024 tournament. Najeeb Goode’s steal vs. UCLA in the Final Four to help us win our second title in Year 13 also stands out. There was also the time superstar power forward Allen Cunningham took off his pants mid-game.

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Thank you to everyone who read, watched, and interacted

I started this series on April 11, 2020, a few weeks after the pandemic had shut down all ‘real’ sports. At the time, I was gearing up to cover the 2020 NCAA tournament. That never happened. I had college basketball on my mind, and I always wanted to write something on ‘College Hoops 2K8’, probably my favorite video game ever. This project is what came of it.

I had no idea if anyone was going to read this. I definitely did not think I’d finish out all 40 years like a complete lunatic. I didn’t think I’d write the equivalent of multiple books in terms of total word count.

Just before I dropped the first post in the series, I tweeted this:

Got a real dumb blog post coming

— Ricky O'Donnell (@SBN_Ricky) April 11, 2020

I wrote around 70 posts in the series, counting the inaugural Hall of Fame induction (read a big Deke Van retrospective at that link) and two posts of my Deke Van x Seattle Supersonics spin-off. I’m estimating I wrote 200,000 words in this series. That’s about the length of “The Fellowship of the Ring.”

I still can’t believe everything that came from this series. The Washington Post wrote a profile on it. I went on WGN TV and did a few radio spots promoting it. We sold a Deke Van t-shirt with Homefield Apparel. Our series inspired a new friend in Japan named Thanh Nguyen to write a pair of e-books adding greater depth to our story. Friend of the program Mike Rutherford did an amazing hype video for our first championship run. When I moved the series to Substack for a few months, more than 7,000 people signed up for email updates and still remain. Our first Twitch stream for the Year 8 Final Four drew more than 7,000 total viewers, and had 2,500 concurrent viewers on it at as we were closing out the win. On SB Nation, the series has been viewed more than 500K times.

What really made the project special was always the community around it. Some quick shout-outs:

The Leathernecks Database is an amazing companion to this series. You can lost in there. Thank you to the diehards to helped maintain it, and reader Evan for starting it.

Thanks to my guy who started the Leathernecks Nation instagram fan page and whoever is behind the wondrous fake Deke Van twitter account.

Thanks to everyone in the Discord who maintained ‘Necks discussion always and forever.

Thank the diehards that came out for every Twitch stream. I don’t want to name names because I’ll forget someone, but you know who you are. I love you all. I also want to thank the readers for keeping up with the recaps, and everyone who emailed me feedback throughout the series. I also want to thank my buddy Scott for introducing me to the game and running through multiple 40-year dynasties with me way before I ever considered blogging through it like this. This series would not exist without him.

What a ride it’s been. As I sim through to the end of the calendar, I’m greeted with this message.

Thank you, everyone. Go ‘Necks.

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goldenraeofsun · 4 years

Text

would you have me, would you want me?

Part I

Castiel wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks.

He tugs at the tie strangling him, and runs a hand through his hair. He grimaces. So much for all the preparation he put into his appearance in front of the mirror twenty minutes ago.

He inhales a deep breath and steps inside his high school for the first time in ten years.

The fluorescent lighting doesn’t do the old halls any favors, and the entryway, at least, smells violently of lemon-scented cleaner. There have been a few pathetic attempts at livening up the stubbornly beige walls - colorful signs mark the way to the gym, like Castiel would ever forget even after ten years.

It’s strange to see the place so empty.

“Hello!” Becky, their alumni representative, waves him over to a table just inside the entryway. It’s completely cluttered with bits of paper and blank name tags. “Are you here for the reunion?”

Castiel coughs. “Yes.”

“So glad to have you here,” Becky says as Castiel drags his feet closer. “Name?”

“Castiel Novak?”

“Oh!” Becky says, her eyes widening. “I hardly recognized you without the books, and the coat, and the...” she gestures vaguely to her own face, which Castiel takes to mean the semi-permanent scowl he wore all throughout high school. Before Castiel can react, she ducks her head and drags her finger down a clipboard. “Alright, Castiel, I’ll mark you down as present. Fill out a name tag if you want, and here are your tickets for your two drinks. Would you like to enter the fundraising raffle? We’re hoping to send the volleyball team to nationals this year.”

Castiel quails under Becky’s doe eyes and forks over ten dollars for the raffle. He also writes out a name tag, since his classmates might have the same reaction as Becky.

Armed with his name tag and drinks tickets, he follows the signs to the gym.

* * *

Cas wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks.

He shouldn’t have agreed to this. He doesn’t go to parties. He is not a partier. The closest he’s ever come to one was after his brother’s graduation, but that was eleven years ago. Cas was seven.

Cas successfully avoided all high school parties for the past three and a half years, but apparently nothing lasts forever.

Biting his lip, he presses down hard on Tessa’s doorbell.

The door opens, and Cas barely has enough time to school his face into a less terrified expression before Tessa appears. “You’re not the pizza man,” she says, frowning.

Cas blinks at her. “I... sorry?” He offers the wine Uncle Marv gifted his parents, the one Cas’s mother promised never to drink in a million years.

Tessa’s face brightens as she takes it from him. “Who invited you?”

“Dean - Dean Winchester,” Cas says, like there could be any other Dean that mattered at Edlund High.

Tessa opens the door wider, calling over her shoulder, “Dean!”

Cas steps inside without waiting for Dean to rescue him. Dean is probably too occupied to see him inside - or so Cas assumes. He’s never been to a party like this before, but even the senior year loner hears about the types of things Dean gets up to at events like these.

Cas follows Tessa past a flight of roped-off stairs further into the house. The noise and the people hit him full force in a dimly lit living room. Music blasts from speakers connected to a massive entertainment center. The whole area is jam-packed with teenagers and smells strongly of beer and hormones. Cas scans the crowd, recognizing more faces than not, to his relief.

“Kitchen’s that way,” Tessa says loudly, pointing to a door, bright light spilling from beyond. “If you want to get a drink, be my guest.” She shoulders past a group of girls from Cas’s homeroom and disappears from sight.

Cas heads for the kitchen. Maybe he can clear his head there and come up with a plan. Or maybe he can get drunk enough not to care about all the bad decisions that led him here.

* * *

Castiel turns at the sound of his name.

He spins around in place, searching the faces in the gym for one he recognizes.

“Cas, you made it!”

Castiel stumbles as Charlie’s arms wrap around him. “I didn’t think you’d come,” she says as she steps away, a broad grin stretching across her face.

“I live in the next school district over. I’m sure people traveled farther than that.”

“Yeah, but,” Charlie says awkwardly, “I know high school wasn’t the best time for you.”

Castiel’s mouth twitches. “Only the last few months of senior year. The rest went well enough.” He scans the gym before meeting Charlie’s knowing gaze.

Charlie winks at him. It’s not like she couldn’t put the pieces together herself. Most of their points of conversation revolve around a shared high school experience, so naturally Dean comes up once or twice (or a dozen times) during their sporadic get togethers.

It was even nice, sometimes, since Charlie is the only person from his teenage years he sees anymore.

“I know what you’re talking about,” Charlie says with a shudder. “I got bangs for senior year. Bangs.”

Castiel smiles weakly. “You could have made worse decisions.”

"If we’re going to talk about how dumb we were as teenagers, then I’m going to need another drink,” Charlie says as they make their way to the makeshift bar. “Don’t worry,” she says in an undertone, “He’s not here yet.”

“He’s coming?”

Charlie throws him a look. “Dude, he’s the newest hire in the English department. There’s no way he got out of attending his own reunion.”

Castiel absentmindedly nods along as he looks around. There’s a slideshow projecting onto a far wall, showing candid shots from ten years ago. About fifty people mill around the gym, chatting in little groups, nobody Castiel recognizes. More than a few people huddle over their own on their phones, ignoring everyone else.

He asks, “Is this typically what happens at these things?”

“How should I know?” Charlie says as they get in line. “This is my first reunion too.”

Castiel turns to her. “You didn’t go to our five year?”

Charlie wrinkles her nose. “I was kind of in hot water for hacking into NORAD so I laid low in Norway until everything died down.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Why would a tech consultant for Roman Enterprises hack into NORAD?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Charlie shoots back.

Castiel has no retort prepared, so he steps up to trade his ticket for a glass of cheap wine. “How is Dorothy doing?”

“She’s good. Away at a meteorology conference, but those’re the hazards of dating a nerd.” Charlie exhales a long-suffering sigh, watching with mild interest as the bartender pours out Castiel’s glass.

Castiel snorts. “I wouldn’t know.”

Charlie elbows him playfully in the side. “’Course you don’t. You always liked them dumber, didn’t you?”

“Dean wasn’t dumb.”

Charlie cackles as she hands over her own ticket to the bartender. “I didn’t say anyone’s name.”

* * *

Cas turns at the sound of his name.

“Dean?” he answers.

Tessa’s kitchen is only slightly quieter than the living room, but not much. There are fewer people here, though, which leaves Cas some breathing room.

Dean strides up to him, a red cup of something in his hand and a grin on his face. Party-goer Dean doesn’t look any different than Student Dean, clad in worn jeans and his favorite Led Zeppelin short sleeved shirt. “Hey, man. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Of course,” Cas says, clutching his own drink tightly. “You invited me.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, his gaze skittering away, “this isn’t your usual scene, though.”

“I can try new things.” Cas takes a sip of his punch and makes a face at the overwhelmingly sweet taste. “It is our senior year, so I thought it might be time.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean says with a laugh, “as long as it got you out of the library.”

Cas’s frown deepens. “What’s wrong with the library?”

“Nothing,” Dean says, eyes widening. He raises his free hand, palm out, in a gesture of no-harm. “It’s just not the sort of place you’d go for a good time, you know what I mean?”

Cas’s eyes narrow. “I’ve had plenty of good times in the library.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Not the kind I was talking about, Cas.”

Cas hasn’t ever gotten blown in the book stacks of the library like some pornography had indicated was possible, but he won’t call his time spent there a total waste. He says, “If it hadn’t been for our enjoyable tutoring sessions in the library, I wouldn’t be here.”

Dean beams at him. “Yeah, I’m kind of sorry they’re over, but I guess our grades don’t matter any more.”

“What?” Cas blinks at him. “Our grades matter.”

“Dude, it’s April.”

“Colleges can still rescind acceptance letters.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Come on, you nerd,” he grabs Cas by the hand. “We can’t block the line to the booze or Tessa'll murder me.”

Cas lets himself get led back out into the living room, a bemused expression on his face. The music and the chatter of a dozen different conversations hit him like a palpable slap to the face.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks loudly, as he throws back the rest of his cup of punch. It is much more tolerable in larger, quicker doses.

Dean glances around before leaning closer so Cas could hear him. “Whatever you want.”

Cas shivers as Dean’s breath ghosts over his ear and down his neck.

“We got the dancers, the stoners, the wallflowers,” Dean points each out, “the horndogs...”

Cas tears his gaze away from Charlie and Gilda, entwined on the couch. “Where do you fall?”

“Me?” Dean asks, surprised. He holds up his drink, a smile playing around his lips. “It’s a little early to tell. This is only my third one. Speaking of,” he takes Cas’s drink and drains it, “We should get you another one. You’re barely caught up to me.”

Cas dumbly takes his cup back. If he refills this cup, his lips might touch the same surface Dean’s had. The ghost of a kiss.

It was a technique old Hollywood films used to indicate romantic attraction, since kissing on-screen was heavily restricted. Characters would share cigarettes, food, and drinks instead of touching, especially if the relationship was taboo and wouldn’t pass the censors.

Cas stares up at Dean, uncomprehending.

“Come on, man,” Dean says as he nudges Cas back towards the kitchen. “Before all the good booze is gone.”

* * *

Castiel chokes on his drink.

Charlie gives him a few hard whacks on the back, giggling under her breath. “I know Dean’s hot and all, but that doesn’t mean you have to do a spit take when you see him.”

“I was surprised,” Castiel says defensively as he desperately tries to regain his composure.

“Uh huh.” Charlie smirks, eyebrows waggling. “Want me to call him over? I don’t think he’s spotted us yet.”

Castiel swallows down the rising tide of panic in the back of his throat. For God’s sake, he’s nearly thirty years old. He can’t go to pieces over Dean Winchester, not again.

It’s just been a while. He hasn’t had a boyfriend in several years. All his friends, Charlie included, are taken or aromantic, and lately Castiel’s been feeling like the odd bachelor out.

Dean probably isn’t all Castiel has been building up in his head. It’s been ten years, after all. Dean must have changed.

Castiel certainly has. He’s no longer the loner who filled his life with facts and grades instead of friends. Well, he still has school, but at least this time around he’s the one grading tests instead of being graded.

But it’s Dean. The one who got away - or ran away, in Dean’s case.

Charlie waves and calls Dean’s name, and, before Castiel can wrap his head around what’s happening, Dean is in front of them, in all his glory. Ten years older, but no less handsome. He still has those barely-there freckles splattered across his cheeks.

“So how’ve you been?” Dean asks Charlie.

“Can’t complain.” Charlie shakes her head. “I got a new haircut.”

“The bob suits you, Red,” Dean says, grinning as he reaches out to ruffle it.

Charlie dodges, one finger in his face in warning. “You touch it and you die, Handmaiden. It doesn’t look this natural naturally.”

“Fair,” Dean says, hands in the air.

Castiel watches them both, a sinking feeling in his gut. He’s been here before, watching from the sidelines as Dean joked and teased his friends. In the same room but also miles away.

He shouldn’t have expected any different.

Ten years, and nothing has changed.

But then Charlie punches Dean in the arm, throwing a significant look at Castiel, and Castiel’s mood sinks lower. He doesn’t need Charlie to make Dean pay attention to him; that wasn’t the point of coming here tonight.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says quietly.

Castiel clears his throat. “Hello, Dean.”

Onto Part II

#destiel fanfic #fanfic #destiel #high school reunion #high school au #teacher castiel #flashbacks like woah #teacher dean #loner castiel #popular dean #human au #would you have me would you want me #the story of us verse #rae writes fic

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ace-t-fic · 3 years

Text

This a Peter si fic I started (its purely 'feel good' no eye roll moments) but never found out what I wanted to do with it. This hasn't been grammar checked ethier.

The yearly trip to science industries (after the fiasco concerning OC labs) was heavily guarded by the gpa efficiency minimum and it was usually 123 Seniors at Midtown high each year. That only left less than 30 who had the gpa needed in order to attend the field trip. But with detentions and tardies that often brought it down to 25 added in with the people who actually turned in their permission slips drop that number down to a solid 13. That usually meant the whole decathlon team, one jock, the Sat acres and people with tiger parents.

So when the paper was only passed to Peter and Flash in their homeroom he wasn’t surprised who qualified for the field trip.

Last year's field trip the students all got to go to Tesla and returned the day after. Liz said it was a fun experience and even one of the kids was later offered an internship available to him after their graduation. Liz herself wasn’t all that interested in the company herself but she said the experience was an enjoyable one. So Peter would have been lying if he said he wasn’t practically buzzed for when his senior year trip came.

He wondered if they would be able to tour the new labs Wakanda had set up. He wanted to go for a while but their outside personnel was strictly limited to certified personnel and those with names that ended with Stark or Banner or Avengers. But the name staring back at him was just laughing at him, “congratulations, you have qualified for this year's exclusive Senior trip to SI inc.” an all paid expense to visit his work. Now instead of taking the City bus he could just catch a ride on a big ugly yellow one.

Not that this was a let down it was still an amazing opportunity many would kill for. He thought gazing behind him to stare at Flash who fist bumped the air. The attention caught his attention and he made brief eye contact with Peter with a smug little smile on his face. Peter only flashed back his before the flash rolled his eyes and no longer paid him attention.

Flash still didn’t partially believe Peter's internship-neither did anyone else really- but flash was the most put out about it. He would be lying if he says he wasn’t rooting for Peter the night of his junior year party. He even helped Diana, the maid clean and dust just in case Spiderman really did show up. And when he didn’t show up he told Peter exactly how he felt about it with a new string of nicknames. Added on to the occasional passive agressive shoulder shove but nothing more or less beyond that. Sure he was a dick but he wasn’t a good fighter, just richer than Parker he was beating him in the fight of life.

Peter only rolled his eyes back, shoving the paper into the back of his class notebook.

The minutes ticked by steadily as Peter waited to meet Ned at his locker. He’s almost deadly positive Ned received one too and is waiting to shake the life out of his shoulders. Peter may work at Si but Ned’s never been and the experience in itself is quite entertaining. Things are always different when best friends are involved.

“Anyone who received a field trip paper will have to have it signed and returned to me, the office, or Mrs. Meyers up to five days before the date of the field trip. Other than that we will continue on with the stock market Tomorrow!” The teacher screamed over the rustling papers and scraping chairs as he let them out a minute early, if you ask anyone on campus that made him the cool teacher.

Petter grabbed his folders, having lost another backpack he was sure laid webbed to the building and exited the room. He easily made it to his locker before Ned did and even got to close it before he was approached

“Dude you can show me your lab.” he whispered to peter.

“Actually I can’t, my lab is Tony’s and that's only because Bucky has been keeping him away from the lab.” Peter announced before he got his hopes up. “We’re probably gonna tour below mid level, I don't think they allow anyone without a permanent badge into any of the labs.”

“Do we get to meet any of the avengers?”

“Probably Bruce, he’s usually chilling with all the other scientists. It’ll be cool though you know i haven’t actually met him? The dude has to be dumb smart, you know Tony scraps ideas if he can’t get Bruce to sign off on them.” Peter gushes, before an arm is roughly swung around his shoulder. “Ow-no.”

Flashes pffts, “give me a break i hate this as much as you but apparently since I’m friends with idiots i have to slum it with you and- I’m sorry what's your-”

“Ned”

“Yeah Ned, that sounds familiar for the trip. I asked more about it and this might be a good time to turn in our submissions for the upcoming Intern conference. We get in ahead and we can probably impress him enough for our stuff to actually be looked at. Peter, I know your tech smart, I do numbers and possibilities and Ned we’ve been in coding since middle school together so we can definitely do that.” Flash rambles.

“What are you talking about?”

“We’ve been coding together for 6 years and you just barely remembered my name?”

“What I’m talking about-Peter is welcome to the winning team. Listen your smart parker you may or may not have an internship although its kinda sketchy that out of nowhere you a loser 17 year old defies all social laws and pops on the popularity chart” Understandable he still cursed Ned for saying anything right before he asked Mary jane to prom god that was embarrassing.

You know that fancy stuff doesn’t bother me Peter. If I wanted to solely date you for your internship I’d hope someone would’ve knocked sense into you to get over me.

“But I honestly feel as if we wow at least one impressionable person. They'll seek us an audience with Stark before the rest of the crowd.” Flash continues.

“You know that honestly doesn’t sound bad?” Ned finishes unsure over the look of alarm on Peter's face. Because yeah it’s not a bad idea and that expo meant the world to the real science losers around the GLOBE. And Ned really did want to be involved beyond the guy in the chair way before Peter turned into Spiderman. Peter would probably still be hands deep in his theories if he hadn’t gotten bit by some escaped lab spider. This expo at one point in his life -sophomore year- was the only thing that was gonna get Aunt May out of the nearly slumps.

And flash…. Well he’s just a fucking nerd to put it lightly he was just rich, and since he was rich and gushes this much about being a intern of all things meant he might’ve been worse then both Peter and Ned when they first envisioned running coffee for Tony stark.

Plus it would be kinda unfair to see if he could pull strings for Ned instead of proving that he was capable of it far more on his own. “Fiiiinn-”

“Whoop! You might actually not be so bad penis.” and with a clap on his shoulder disappearing with the ringing of the bell.

Peter clenched his jaw shooting a ‘why’ look at Ned, “Oh don’t give me that look, you think I want to work with him. He has money and resources and he is good at real numbers not technical of coding, look you're an spaceship mechanic, he does the landing the thrust or whatever they do and I’m the guy who counts down which is honestly better then both of those jobs-”

“Please Ned you're embarrassing me '' Peter laughed as he and Ned made their way through the day. 2 months until the field trip that was more than enough time for three geniuses to at least come up with a concept and a prototype for something cool.

Scrap that they’re screwed.

“I almost died.” Ned said, sitting in a shock of foam. “You guys just sat there, you were gonna watch me die.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Ned reared back at Flash's comment, “Dramatic! I just went up in flames!”

“Hey, it was your boy Peter who made it. Plus maybe if he didn’t bail early last Monday we could’ve caught that our numbers weren’t matching up with his” Maybe if some assholes weren't trying to rob F.E.A.S.T after their charity event he wouldn’t have had too.

“I told you things happen Flash, I do in fact have a life.”

“MJ tell you that”

“-oo burn”

“Ned!- ok listen in order for this hoverboard to work we have to make sure everything is matched up. It shouldn’t have done that so something else must’ve gone wrong too.” Peter explained grabbing the notebooks and tossing them on the Flashes workbench. Hoverboard and back to future stickers on the covers.

“Might be the fact that it isn’t Hovering. But that's just me.”

#peter parker #flash tompson #ned leeds #si feild trip

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bensk · 3 years

Text

Be curious. Be humble. Be useful.

I was invited to give the annual Taub Lecture for graduating Public Policy students at the University of Chicago, my alma mater and the department from which I graduated. This is what I came up with.

---

I am incredibly grateful and honored to be here tonight. The Public Policy program literally changed my life.

My name is Ben Samuels-Kalow, my pronouns are he/him/his. I’m a 2012 Public Policy graduate, and I will permit myself one “back in my day” comment: When I was a student here, the “Taub Lecture” were actual lectures given by Professor Taub in our Implementation class. I’ve spent the last nine years teaching in the South Bronx. For the past two years, I have served as Head of School at Creo College Prep, a public charter school that opened in 2019.

I was asked tonight to tell you a bit about my journey, and the work that I do. My objection to doing this is that there is basically nothing less interesting than listening to a white man tell you how he got somewhere, so I'll keep it brief. I grew up in New York City and went to a public high school that turned out Justice Elena Kagan, Chris Hayes, Lin-Manuel Miranda, among many others…none of whom were available tonight.

We, on this Zoom, all have one thing in common — we have been very, very close to graduating from the University of Chicago. I have never sat quite where you sit. I didn’t graduate into a pandemic. But the truth is that everyone graduates into a crisis. The periods of relative ease, the so-called “ends of history”, even the end of this pandemic, are really matters of forced perspective. This crisis isn’t over. Periods of relative peace and stability paper over chasms of structural inequality.

You went to college with the people who will write the books and go on the talk shows and coin the phrases to describe our times. You could write that book. You could go into consulting and spend six weeks at a time helping a company figure out how to maximize profits from their Trademark Chasm Expanding Products.

You could also run into the chasm.

What is the chasm?

It is the distance between potential and opportunity. It is a University on the South Side of Chicago with a student body that is 10% Black and 15% Latinx, with a faculty that is 65% white.

It is eight Black students being admitted to a top high school in New York City...in a class of 749.

What is the chasm?

The chasm is that in our neighborhood in The Bronx, where I’m standing right now, 1 in 4 students can read a book on their grade level, and only 1 in 10 will ever sit in a college class.

It is maternal mortality and COVID survival rates. The chasm is generational wealth and payday loans.

It is systemic racism and misogyny.

It is the case for activism and reparations.

In my job, the chasm is the distance between the creativity, brilliance, and wit that my students possess, and the opportunities the schools in our neighborhood provide.

In the zip code in which I grew up in New York City, the median income is $122,169. In the zip code where I have spent every day working since I graduated from UChicago, the median income is $30,349. The school where I went to 7th grade and this school where next year we will have our first 7th grade are only a 15 minute drive apart.

In my first quarter at UChicago, I joined the Neighborhood Schools Program, and immediately fell in love with working in schools. I joined NSP because a friend told me how interesting she found the work. I’d done some tutoring in high school, and had taught karate since I was 15. I applied, was accepted, and worked at Hyde Park Academy on 62nd and Stony Island in a variety of capacities from 2008 to 2012.

At the time, Hyde Park Academy had one of very few International Baccalaureate programs on the South Side, and every spring, parents would line up out the door of the school to try to get their rising 9th grader in. I worked with an incredible mentor teacher and successive classes of high school seniors whose wit, creativity, and skill would've been at home in the seminars and dorm discussions we all have participated in three blocks north of their high school.

In my work at Hyde Park Academy, I learned the first lesson of three lessons that have shaped my career as a teacher. Be curious. I had been told in Orientation that there were “borders” to the UChicago experience, lines we should not cross. I am forever grateful to the people who told me to ignore that BS. Our entire department is a testimony to ignoring that BS. We ask questions like, why did parents line up for hours to get into what was considered a “failing” high school? Why had no one asked my kids to write poetry before? Why are they more creative and better at writing than most of the kids I went to high school with, but there is only one IB class and families have to literally compete to get in? I learned as much from my job three blocks south of the University as I did in my classes at the University...which is to say, I was learning a LOT, but I had a lot more to learn.

I knew I wanted to be a teacher from my first quarter here. I did my research. The Boston Teacher Residency was the top program in the country, so I applied there. I was a 21 year old white man interested in education, so...I applied to Teach for America. In the early 2010’s, I looked like the default avatar on a Teach for America profile. It was my backup option. I was all in on Boston, and was sure, with four years working in urban schools, a stint at the Urban Education Institute, and, at the time, seven years of karate teaching under my belt, I was a shoe in.

I was rejected from both programs. Which brings me to my second lesson. Be humble. We are destined for and entitled to nothing. There is an aphorism I learned from one of my favorite podcasts, Another Round: "carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white man." If you are a mediocre white man, like me, do as much as you can not to be. If you look like me, you live life on the "lowest difficulty setting." This means I need to question my gifts, contextualize my successes, and actively work against systems of oppression that perpetuate inequity.

Over the last two years, I have interviewed over 300 people to work at this school. There are a series of questions that I ask folks with backgrounds like myself:

Have you ever lived in a neighborhood that was majority people of color?

Have you ever worked on a team that was majority people of color?

Have you ever worked for a boss/supervisor/leader who was a person of color?

The vast majority of white folks, myself at 21 included, could not answer “yes” to these three questions. This is disappointing, but I've also lived and worked in two of the most segregated cities on this continent, so it is not surprising. By the time I sat where you’re sitting now, I had learned a lot about education policy and sociology. I'd taken every class that Chad offered at the time. I'd worked at UEI, I'd worked in a South Side high school for four years, and I still thought I was entitled to something. Unlearning doesn't usually happen in a moment, and I certainly didn't realize it at the time, but these rejections were the best thing that has happened to me in my growth as a human.

I moved back home to New York, was accepted to my last-choice teaching program, and started teaching at MS 223: The Laboratory School of Finance & Technology. I ended up teaching there for 5 years. I had incredible mentors, met some of my best friends, started a Computer Science program that’s used as a model at hundreds of schools across New York City…and most importantly, while making copies for Summer School in July of 2015, I met my wife.

All this to say — if you aren’t 100% convinced that what you’re doing next year is Your Thing, keep an open mind…and make frequent stops in the copy room.

I learned that teaching was My Thing. I didn't want to do ed policy research. I got to set education policy, conduct case studies, key informant interviews, run statistical analysis…with 12 year olds. This was the thing I couldn’t stop talking about, reading about, learning about. I really and truly did not care about the “UChicago voices” of my parents and my friends who kept asking what I was going to do next. My answer: teach.

If you look like me, and you teach Computer Science, there are opportunities that come flying your way. I was offered jobs with more prestige, jobs with more pay, jobs far away from the South Bronx. I was offered jobs I would have loved. But I’d learned a third lesson: be useful. If you have a degree from this place, people will always ask you what the next promotion or job is. They will ask "what's next for you" and they will mean it with respect and admiration.

Here’s the thing: teaching was what’s next. “But don’t you want to work in policy?” Teaching is a political act. It is hands-on activism, it is community organizing, it is high-tech optimistic problem-solving and low-tech relationship building. It is the reason we have the privilege of choosing a career, and it is a career worth choosing.

I had internalized what I like to call the Dumbledore Principle: “I had learned that I was not to be trusted with power.” This meant unlearning the very UChicago idea that if you were smart and if you think and talk like we are trained to think and talk at this place, you should be in charge. The best things in my life have come from unlearning that. Learning from mentors to never speak the way I was praised for in a seminar. Learning from veteran teachers how to be a warm demander who was my authentic best self...and more importantly brought out the authentic best self in my students. Being useful isn't the same thing as being in charge…and that is ok.

I believe this deeply. Which is why, when I was offered the opportunity to design and open a school, my first thought was absolutely the hell no. I said to my wife: “I’m a teacher. Dumbledore Principle — we’re supposed to teach, make our classrooms safe and wonderful for our kids.”

I also knew that teaching kids to code wasn’t worth a damn if they couldn’t read and write with conviction, so I started looking for schools that did both — treated kids like brilliant creatives who should learn to create the future AND met them where they were with rigorous coursework that closed opportunity gaps. In our neighborhood, there were schools that did the latter, that got incredible results for kids. Then there was my school, where kids learned eight programming languages before they graduated, but at which only 40% of our kids could read.

We were lauded for this, by the way. 40% was twice the average in our district. We were praised for the Computer Science — the mayor of New York and the CEO of Microsoft visited and met with my students. It felt great. I wasn’t convinced it was useful.

Kids in the neighborhood where I grew up didn’t have to choose between a school that was interesting and a school that equipped them with the knowledge and skills to pursue their own interests in college and beyond. Why did our students have to choose? I delivered this stressed-out existential monologue to my wife that boiled down to this: every kid deserves a school where they were always safe, and never bored. We weren’t working at a school like that. I was being offered a chance to design one. But…Dumbledore principle.

My wife took it all in, looked at me, and said: “You idiot. Dumbledore RAN a school.”

Friends, you deserve a partner like this.

The road to opening Creo College Prep, and the last two years of leading our school as we opened, closed, opened online, finished our first year, moved buildings, opened online again, opened in-person (kind of) and now head into our third year, has reinforced my lessons from teaching — be curious, be humble, be useful. These lessons are about both learning and unlearning. A white guy doing Teach for America at 21 is a stereotype. A white guy starting a charter school is a stereotype with significant capital, wading into complicated political and pedagogical waters. The lessons I learn opening a school and the unlearning I must do to be worthy of the work are not destinations, they are journeys.

Be curious

I didn’t just open a school. Schools are communities, they are institutions, and they are bureaucracies. If you work very, very hard, and with the right people, they become engines that turn coffee and human potential into joy and intellectual thriving capable of altering the trajectory of a child’s life.

First you have to find the right people. I joined a school design fellowship, spent a year visiting 50 high-performing schools across the country, recruited a founding board of smart, committed people who hold me accountable, and spent time in my community learning from families what they wanted in a school. There is studying public policy, and then there is attending Community Board meetings and Community Education Council Meetings, and standing outside of the Parkchester Macy's handing out flyers and getting petition signatures at Christmastime next to the mall Santa.

I observed in schools while writing my BA, and as a teacher, but it was in this fellowship that I learned to “thin slice,” a term we borrowed from psychology that refers to observing a small interaction and finding patterns about the emotions and values of people. In a school, it means observing small but crucial moments — how does arrival work, how are students called on, how do they ask for help in a classroom, how do they enter and leave spaces, how do they move through the hallways, where and how do teachers get their work done — and gleaning what a school values, and how that translates into impact for kids. Here’s how I look at schools:

Does every adult have an unwavering belief that students can, must, and will learn at the highest level?

Do they have realistic and urgent plans for getting every kid there? Are these beliefs and plans clear and held by kids?

Are all teachers strategic, valorizing planning and intellectual nerdery over control or power?

Is the curriculum worthy of the kids?

Can kids explain why the school does things they way they do? Can staff? Can the leader?

If I'm in the middle of teaching and I need a pen or a marker, what do I do? Is that clear?

What’s the attendance rate? How do we follow up on kids who aren’t here?

How organized and thoughtful are the physical and digital spaces?

Are kids seen by their teachers? Are their names pronounced correctly? Do their teachers look like them? Do they make them laugh, think, and revise their answers?

Would I want to work here? Would I send my own kids here?

Be humble

I learned that there are really two distinct organizations that we call “school.” One is an accumulation of talent (student and staff) that happens to be in the same place at the same time, operating on largely the same schedule.

These were the schools I attended. These are schools you got to go to if you got lucky and you were born in a zip code with high income and high opportunity. These are schools where you had teachers who were intellectually curious, and classmates whose learning deficits could be papered over by social capital…and sometimes, straight up capital.

“Accumulation of talent” also describes the schools I worked at. These were schools where if you got lucky and you were extraordinary in your intelligence, determination, support network, and teachers who’d decided to believe in you, you became one of the stories we told. “She got into Cornell.” “That whole English class got into four year colleges.”

Most schools in this country, it turns out, are run like this. I knew all about local control and the limits of federal standards on education and the battles over teacher evaluations and so much other helpful and important context I learned in my PBPL classes. But when thin-slicing a kindergarten classroom in Nashville on my first school visit of the Fellowship, I saw a whole other possibility of what “school” can be.

School can be a special place organized towards a single purpose. One team, one mission. Where the work kids do in one class directly connects to the next, and builds on the prior year. Where kids are treated like the important people they are and the important people they will be, where students and staff hold each other to a high bar, where there is rigor and joy. A place where staff train together so that instead of separate classrooms telling separate stories about how to achieve, there is one coherent language that gives kids the thing they crave and deserve above all else: consistency.

We get up every morning to build a school like that. It’s why my team starts staff training a month before the first day of school. It’s why we practice teaching our lessons so that we don’t waste a moment of our kids’ time. It’s why everyone at our school has a coach, including me, so we can be a better teacher tomorrow than we were today. It’s why we plan engaging, culturally responsive, relevant lessons. It’s how we keep a simple, crucial promise to every family: at this school, you will always be safe, and you will never be bored.

Be useful

Statistically speaking, it is not out of the realm of possibility that several of you will one day be in a position to make big sweeping policy changes. You will have the power to not only write position papers, but to Make Big Plans. I will be rooting for you, but I hope that you won’t pursue Big Plans for the sake of Big Plans.

The architect who designed the Midway reportedly said "make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men's blood." I had that quoted to me in several lectures at this school, and you know what?

It’s bullshit.

I am asking you not to care about scale. Good policy isn’t about scale, it’s about implementation, and implementation requires the right people on the ground. Implementation can scale. The right people cannot. We can Make Big Plans, but every 6th grade math class still needs an excellent math teacher. That's a job worth doing. I could dream about starting 20 schools, but every school needs a leader. That’s a job worth doing. Places like UChicago teach us to ask "what's next" for our own advancement, to do this now so we can get to that later. I learned to ask "what's next" to be as useful as possible to as many kids as I have in front of me.

I hold these two thoughts in my mind:

The educational realities of the South Bronx have a lot more to do with where highways were built in our neighborhood than with No Child Left Behind or charter schools, and require comprehensive policy change that address not only educational inequity, but environmental justice, and systemic racism.

The most useful policy changes I can make right now are to finalize the schedule for our staff work days that start on June 21, get feedback on next year’s calendar from families, and finish hiring the teachers our kids deserve.

I will follow the policy debates of #1 with great interest, but I know where I can be useful, and I’ll wake up tomorrow excited to make another draft of the calendar. I hope you get to work on making your Small Plans, and I will leave you with the secret — or at least the way that worked for me:

Find yourself people who are smarter than you and who disagree with you. Find problems you cannot shut up or stop thinking about. Do what you can’t shut up about with intellect and kindness. Use the privilege and opportunity that we have because we went to this school to make sure that opportunity for others does not require privilege. Run into the chasm.

Be curious, be humble, be useful.

Thank you.

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ohshit-itsyagorl · 4 years

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Four Dipshits and a Michelle

Part 1

Hey, Loves! This is a fanfiction I’ve been working on recently. Hope you like it!

Summary: Michelle never believed in soulmates. But what happens when she turns seventeen and gets her mark? What happens when she inevitably finds the person with the matching tattoo? And what is she supposed to do with Peter Parker. Her best friend in the whole world. Her crush. Someone she feels drawn to for some inexplicable reason.

Michelle Jones never understood the infatuation human society had with soulmates.

As a little girl full of hopes and dreams, she admits she was rather fond of the idea: someone out there who was perfect for her, someone who she could share her life with, her soul-bonded partner.

Until her mom got sick. And her dad started treating his wife like his own personal punching bag and then left them with barley enough money to get by. And that sucked, but Michelle could deal with it. She really could.

(But she was not okay.)

But after that initial honeymoon phase, after seeing a relationship that was supposedly written in the cosmos fall apart, she was wrenched back to a sad, logical reality.

After giving up on her soulmate, she found it grating how often it came up in seemingly normal discussion.

This, Michelle thought, was rather ridiculous, considering they were all freshman in high school, and wouldn’t be turning 17 for at least two years, three for most of them.

When she woke up on the morning of February 27th, she was not expecting the day to be anything special or different.

Trudging to the bathroom, half asleep with hair in her mouth, she thought she might pass out. Damn her for opting to take the PCB (physics, then chemistry, then biology) route instead of being normal like almost every other kid at Midtown Tech.

The only bonus to PCB was that she had the same kids in her science class every year. Betty and Cindy and Ned and Peter. The only downside was Flash, who was insufferable on the very best of days. He was also on the PCB track.

(Ugh.)

Point was, Michelle had stayed up super late the previous night studying for a massive test with Peter and Ned, and she was absolutely exhausted.

(Physics could be a bitch sometimes.)

“Hey, Sweetie, how did you sleep?” Her mom was laying on the couch, nose shoved into her book, right arm hooked up to an IV. When Michelle didn’t answer immediately, she looked up and let out a soft oh. “Rough night?” She asked.

Michelle sighed. “Yeah. Big test today. Studied with the losers last night.”

“Well, good luck, honey.” MJ started walking toward the door. “Oh, and, Michelle? Don’t call your friends losers.”

Michelle ran a hand through her hair, the chocolate curls a tangled mess perched atop her head.

————————————————————

“Hey, MJ.” Michelle looked up to see Peter waving at her, toothy grin and glasses and a dark blue sweater. She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. Too early, Idiot.

Physics went as well as could be expected. Lunch was a different story.

“I can’t wait,” Betty said dreamily. “I wonder what they’ll look like.”

“I wonder what my soulmark will be,” Ned said, looking up from his English notes. “With my luck, it’ll be worse than that senior with a foot tattooed down the right side of his face.”

Michelle snorted. “Yeah, maybe it’ll be a giant dick or something.”

“Maybe yours’ll be a unicorn, MJ. You know, to match your personality,” Ned fired back.

She stiffened, looking around at the group. ‘‘I don’t want a soulmate,” she muttered.

“What? Why not?” Cindy exclaimed, her eyes almost comically wide.

Peter looked up at that. His glasses had fallen down his nose considerably, and he shoved them back up his face. Dork.

Michelle shrugged. “I just don’t. They’re pointless.”

“Well,” Peter started, “maybe one day you’ll change your mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not likely, Parker.”

“Tell that to your soul-bonded partner.”

A soft chorus of oohs echoed from the Table around her. She needed new friends.

“Whatever. Even if I find my soulmate, I’ll just avoid them like the plague. Shouldn’t be that hard with all my practice when it comes to you lot.”

Peter let out a small uh-huh, and went back to whatever the hell it was he was doing.

It wasn’t like she and Peter didn’t argue. As best friends, it was kind of part of the job description. But Peter and Ned already knew how she felt about soulmates and soulmarks. Michelle was surprised he had pushed her on that front. Weird.

She cleared her throat.

—————————————————————

Sophomore year rolled around, and with it came Academic Decathlon. Michelle befriended Liz almost immediately. She was so nice, and perfect, and smart.

About halfway through the year after a field trip for AcaDec, Peter missed school for over a week. Something about catching a bug on the trip. On day 10, Michelle went to his apartment.

May opened the door. “Oh, hey, MJ! Peter is in his room. He’ll be glad to see you,” she said, a smile gracing her face.

Michelle walked past May with a small nod of acknowledgement. When she entered Peter’s room, she was fairly surprised to see that he, in fact, did actually look very sick. He was on the floor covered in sweat and shaking.

“Ohmigod, Peter! Are you okay?”

“Oh, MJ. Didn’t know you cared. How sweet of you,” he managed through chattering teeth.

“I don’t, Loser. Here,” Michelle leaned down, “let me help you to your bed.”

“No!” Peter scrambled backward over a pile of schoolwork, the pages sticking to his hands. The sweat, probably, thought Michelle

She quirked an eyebrow.

“I, uh—I don’t want to get you sick, is all,” he explained.

“Whatever, Loser,” she said. “I brought you your schoolwork, so… here you go.” She dropped the stack onto his unoccupied bed, spared Peter one more glance, shrugged, and turned to walk out of the room.

“MJ, wait. Thank you, for, uh, for the schoolwork.”

She flipped him off on the way out the door. Weirdo.

Peter started changing after that. He started filling out his shirts more. She figured he had started working out or something.

Not that she was looking at him. Because she wasn’t.

He no longer wore glasses, and dropped out of marching band and robotics club. He disappeared at nationals, showing up only for the ride home after the fiasco at the Washington Monument (of all the times to gain a rebellious streak AcaDec nationals was not the time or the place). Michelle glared at him nonstop for a week after that.

People started avoiding the topic of soulmates and soulmarks around her, knowing it was a touchy subject.

Over the course of the year, Michelle grew closer to Peter and Ned than the other kids in Acadec.

—————————————————————

“MJ?” Peter looked back at her from where he was squatting down in front of the DVD player. He was wearing sweats and a math pun t-shirt that stretched tightly across his chest. His arms across his legs were lithe and muscled. How had she never noticed before…

And she was staring. Michelle blushed furiously. Peter smirked. She flipped him off. He chuckled.

“What do you want?” She asked. His hair was gelled back like every day, but it was a bit mussed, falling onto his forehead. Her blood heated. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, wondered how soft it would be.

Peter ran a hand through said hair, biting his lip. “Have you—uh—have you ever seen The Princess Bride?” He asked.

MJ rolled her eyes. This boy. “Bits and pieces. I was never really interested in that mushy, gushy, sappy shit. Besides, we are not watching that.”

“Uh, yeah, we are. It’s simply tragic how your previous social circle failed you,” he said, scrunching his nose up. It was cute annoying.

Michelle squinted at him, mouth becoming a thin line. He smiled back innocently. She flipped him off. Again.

She relented in the end.

Peter hopped up next to where she was sitting, stretching his arms up and over the back of the couch. Michelles’s eyes snagged on the bit of exposed skin where his shirt had ridden up. Were those… abs? She shook her head, looking back toward the now-glowing TV screen. Her nerdy best friend Peter Parker could not have abs. But.

Michelle had to admit that the movie wasn’t actually as bad as she had initially thought. The reason for that was mostly Peter. The absolute dweeb was acting out the fight scenes with himself. Watching Peter try and punch and defend himself at the same time was pretty funny.

MJ looked over at Peter during the end of the movie. He was looking at her.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” He blurted, then proceeded to clap a hand over his mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry. You really, uh, really don’t have to answer that.”

And maybe it was the laughter they had shared together. Maybe it was the way she felt safe around him, or how his hair curled behind his ears, but, “My parents were soulmates. It—it didn’t work out."

That was all she was willing to share.

Peter nodded, swallowing thickly and looking back to the movie. “I think Ned’s right,” he said. Michelle raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat, “Your soulmark is definitely going to be a unicorn. Or a pegasus. Or a rainb—”

“Shut up, Parker.”

Peter raised his hands defensively, grinning.

They talked for another hour, but Peter couldn’t seem to drop the conversation about soulmates.

“Hey, MJ?” He said, giving her a curious look.

Michelle hummed.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. With all the posing while acting out the movie, it looked like he had just gotten out of bed. Maybe even just had—

No. Best friend. Peter was her best friend. Nothing more.

“On your birthday,” he ventured, “when you get your mark, will you tell me about it? We could, like, make fun of each other’s or something. Once I get mine, that is.”

Michelle hesitated. Then: “Sure, okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Peter beamed at her and her heart did a backflip. It was worth talking about her soulmark to see that smile, different from his usually timid upturned lips. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Awesome! What are best friends for if not to make fun of shit,” he said.

Best friend. The words stung a bit, even if they were true.

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

Junior year came faster than any of them expected, and with it, standardized testing. Michelle was sad that Liz had moved away the year prior when her dad was caught selling alien technology illegally, but she was excited to be team captain this year. She, Peter, and Ned had all celebrated with aLord of the Rings movie marathon, but over the past few months, Peter and Ned had been sharing hushed conversations. MJ wasn’t sure what was going on, but it made her feel kind of shitty—like she was being pushed out of their friend group.

But then Peter would shoot her a shy smile, and she would feel a little better. There was definitely something going on, though.

Betty got her mark over the summer—a small cat’s eye in the palm of her left hand—but she had had no luck finding the person with the matching tattoo, much to her chagrin.

Michelle truly felt like she was rocketing toward her birthday. Somehow, she and Peter had found a way to turn her soulmate into a bit of a joke, which helped. A little.

That’s how Michelle found herself on the phone with Peter, wearing a tank top and shorts in the middle of winter, watching the seconds tick down to midnight.

“I’m so excited,” Peter said over the phone. “I can’t wait to see if it’s a unicorn or a pegasus.”

“Can it, Parker,” Michelle snapped. She was strangely terrified, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Okay, Magic Princess Unicorn—”

“I mean it, Pete.”

“Ten seconds, MJ.”

“Shit,” she whispered, hands shaking as she hastily put Peter on speaker, and set down the phone, turning to face the floor-length mirror.

“Do you see anything?” He asked. Did he sound… nervous?

Michelle scanned her arms and legs in the mirror, turned around and did the same on the back. “Fuck.”

“What?” Peter said, voice crackling over the phone. “What is it? Is it a Unicorn?”

“No,” Michelle gasped out. “I don’t see anything.”

It was true she didn’t want anything to do with her soulmate, but it did hurt that she didn’t even have one.

She let out a sob, then slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“MJ—MJ, calm down. It’s probably just somewhere else. Try taking your clothes off.” Michelle felt her toes curl into the carpet, her breath hitched. “Fuck,” Peter said. “I didn’t mean it like that—fuck, that came out wrong.”

You don’t need to apologize, Michelle thought. Instead, she nodded, then, realizing he couldn’t see her over the phone, she cleared her throat and said, “No, I get it—what you meant, I mean.” She cringed, Christ, she was absolutely horrible at this. “God, I hope it’s not on my ass.”

Peter let out a bark of laughter. Michelle smiled, then remembered her situation, frowned.

“Stop frowning, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” Peter said.

Michelle frowned deeper. “How do you know I’m frowning?”

“I know you, MJ. Now stop frowning. There’s only one way to know if you have a tattoo on your ass,” Peter said, choking on the last word. “Just check.”

Michelle loosed a breath. “Okay. I guess you’re right.”

She turned back toward the mirror, reaching for the waistband of her shorts and underwear, pulling them both down at the same time. Nothing on the front. She shimmied around a bit, before giving in and stepping out of her shorts. She glanced over her shoulder into the mirror. Nothing.

She took off her tank top next, checking her back first, since she was already facing in that direction. Still nothing. She turned around and ran her fingers over her stomach. Nothing there, either. Goddammit.

She slowly reached back to unclasp her bra and let it slide down her arms. “Mother fucker,” she said quietly.

She’s not sure how, but Peter heard her. “MJ? What’s the status? Did you find it?”

“Yeah, I did. And I fucking hate the universe.” She hissed.

Peter laughed nervously. “Well, what is it? Where is it?”

“Like hell I’m telling you!” MJ screeched.

“C’mon, Michelle, we had a deal!” Peter said. She could picture him laying down in bed, then sitting up abruptly, hair mussed like that night they had watched The Princess bride together. And that strip of skin she’d glimpsed and—fuck, she was thinking about him while she was naked.

“Peter, I literally had to take all my clothes off just to find it. I am not telling you about this ever. God, this is so humiliating.” Michelle looked in the mirror again and winced. Staring back a her was her naked body, dark skin gleaming in the moonlight, curls coming down over her breasts. She moved her hair out of the way to get a better look at her mark, and… there it was. A fist-size black spider sitting in the middle of her left breast, right over her nipple. She groaned, burying her face in the crook of her elbow.

“Oh, c’mon, M. It can’t be that bad,” Peter said.

“It’s bad, Pete,” Michelle sighed. “Well, at least this way my soulmate won’t be able to see my mark.”

Michelle stroked a finger over one of the spider’s legs and shivered. Peter swore over the phone.

“What?” Michelle asked.

“Nothing,” Peter said, though his voice was shaky. “Just got a shiver. That’s what I get for not wearing a shirt.

This boy.

And now she was picturing him shirtless. Fuck. With that mussed-up hair. Double-fuck. She looked down to find that the hand near her breast had grabbed on, kneading the soft flesh. Holy mother of god, an infinite amount of fucks. But it felt good. Really good. She let out a quiet moan.

“MJ? What’s going on, are you okay?” How the ever-living hell did Peter keep hearing her? She could barely hear herself.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she managed. Thankfully she sounded normal, if not a little breathy. “Just a little messed up after seeing the mark, you know? I wasn’t expecting to feel so… attached to it.” Because that’s what it was, she realized. She could already feel her connection to someone else, and she hated herself for loving it, for craving that sensation to be stronger.

“Okay. We should probably both go to sleep anyway,” Peter said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” He sounded worried, but he was willing to give her space. That was one of the things she valued most about their friendship.

“Yeah,” Michelle said. Then, when she heard him start to shift, presumably on his bed (God help her), she interrupted, “and, Peter?” He hummed in response. “Put a shirt on. It’s cold out.”

He grunted. “Yeah, will do, M.”

Somehow Michelle got the feeling he wasn’t going to put on a shirt. Idiot.

Part 2

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #spideychelle #soulmate #soulmarks #peter x michelle #michelle jones #eventual smut #masterbation #best friends #au #peter parker soulmate

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pocketseizure · 4 years

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Disneybound

Case #0180602. Statement of Ted Nakamura, regarding a strange experience at the Haunted Mansion attraction in Disneyland, California. Statement recorded directly from subject on June 2, 2018.

Jonathan takes the statement of someone whose memories may not accurately reflect the events of his childhood. He then has a short conversation with Martin and learns something (perhaps not so) surprising about Elias.

The events of this story take place after Episode 103, "Cruelty Free" (the one in which Jon reads the statement of a farmer in New Zealand with a monster pig).

( This story is also on AO3. )

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jon cast a level gaze at the American sitting on the other side of the table. He was fit and clean-shaven, and he appeared to be in his early thirties. He wore a wide grin and a bright red shirt depicting Minnie Mouse posing in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Jon sighed and pressed the record button of his tape recorder.

“Statement of Theodore Nakamura – ”

“Call me Ted, please. Or Teddy, if you like. All my friends do.”

“Ted Nakamura, regarding a strange phenomenon he experienced at the Haunted Mansion attraction in Disney World – ”

“Sorry, but it’s ‘Disneyland.’ Disney World is the one in Florida.”

“In Disneyland, California. Statement recorded directly from subject on May 25, 2018.”

“This is exciting! I love the detail you’ve devoted to authenticity. The tape recorder is a nice touch.”

Jon grimaced. “Statement begins.”

A hint of uncertainty crept into Ted’s smile. “I’ve never done this before. Is there a protocol? Maybe some sort of standard introduction I should start with?”

“Just tell me about the incident you came to report. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

“All right, I’ll start at the beginning.”

Ted clapped his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. Jon watched as his eyes made a brief circuit around the densely packed shelves arranged in disorderly rows at the rear of the room before finally coming to rest on one of the objects jammed between the accordion folders and cardboard boxes. He’d witnessed this process often enough that he could pinpoint the object of the man’s attention – a cloudy snow globe with a tarnished metal base. It wasn’t connected to any of the cases on file in the archives, merely something Gertrude had brought back from one of her travels on a whim.

“I guess you could say that I’m not the sort of person who would be the star of a Disney movie,” Ted began. “I’m not an orphan, and I had a happy childhood. My mother was an architect who moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles during the construction boom of the 1980s, and my father went to business school at UCLA and never left. His family is from Seattle, and they made some money in real estate in the 1990s. We’re comfortably middle class, but I went to one of the big public schools in Orange County.”

He paused, seeming to expect some sort of reaction. When it became clear that no such reaction was forthcoming, he continued.

“Even in LA, where everyone tries to stand out, high school was all about belonging to a group. I didn’t have any interest in the grandstanding of my school’s Gay-Straight Alliance, and I didn’t have the looks or the talent for the student theater club, which is where a lot of kids like me spent a year or two on their way out of the closet. Mostly I kept my grades up and my head down as my circle of friends from middle school gradually went their separate ways.

“My mom worked from home, and she made sure our house had the first high-speed internet connection in my neighborhood. I don’t mind admitting that I spent a lot of time online. I posted an embarrassing number of bad stories about cartoon characters on LiveJournal, and I eventually ended up being invited to join a popular Disney fan community moderated by a friend of a friend. All the people I spoke with on the comm were strangers, at least at first, but we gradually got to know one another as we responded to each other’s posts and comments.

“Between one thing and another, we somehow managed to figure out that most of us were the same age. Oddly enough, a lot of us lived in SoCal, so we decided to meet up over the summer at Disneyland. Everyone showed up, and we had a great time. We met again the next summer, and then again after my senior year.

“Nothing bad happened, but I stopped updating my LiveJournal after that. I went to college in New York, got a job in the city, and fell out of touch with most of my online friends.

“I moved back to LA four years ago, not that I do anything glamorous. I manage the back end of a tech company’s website and intranet, mostly database stuff, but I still have an IG account. I started it just for fun, but I joined early and picked up more than a thousand followers in less than a year. Someone suggested that it would be cool for me to visit to Disneyland and post photos, so I thought, why not? Like, I love Disneyland!”

Jon cleared his throat. “And what is this ‘strange incident’ you came to report?”

“Hold your horses, I’m getting to it. It’s important that you know my background, right? What I’m trying to say is that I’d only been to Disneyland three times before. It wasn’t a major part of my life. But it was a good part of my life – that’s important.”

Jon nodded in acknowledgment. “Very well, then. Duly noted.”

“Disneyland was considered to be a little seedy when I was in high school, but it’s gotten fancy in the past ten years or so. It used to be that you could just walk in, but these days you practically have to make an itinerary. So I did some research, got a group of people together, and we went and saw the sights. Everyone wore an outfit to match the style of a character, and we took a lot of pictures. The photos were so popular that I hit 5k followers in less than 24 hours, can you believe it? Everyone and their sister is into DisneyBounding these days, but picking up that sort of following from on-location fashion photos was still a thing you could do in 2015.

“Like I said, I had a happy childhood, but no one ever paid me that sort of attention. It was such a dopamine hit, you have no idea. Or maybe you do?”

Jon grit his teeth. “Please continue with the statement.”

Ted laughed. “Pushy, aren’t you? But that’s all right. It’s weird, but I feel like I can tell you anything. Has anyone ever said that to you before?”

“You’re not the first.”

“Maybe it’s the librarian thing you’ve got going on – or archivist thing, sorry. Puts me right at ease. And I appreciate that. If there’s an adult who willingly goes to Disneyland for fun, especially someone like me, people tend to think that’s creepy. The therapist I was seeing at the time called it ‘Peter Pan Syndrome,’ of all things. I never went to another appointment with her again, but that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that I kept going back to Disneyland, usually with friends but sometimes with my boyfriend, who I met on Insta. We bonded while sharing theories about the Haunted Mansion, which is… Well, it used to be my favorite ride in the park. It still is, I guess, but I can’t go on it anymore.

“It took me long enough to get here, but this is the part of my story that should interest you. The reason I like the Haunted Mansion is because it reminds me of my mother, who passed away from a heart attack while I was living in New York. It was very sudden, completely out of the blue, and I never got to say good-bye. I never cared about the Haunted Mansion when I was in high school – we all thought it was cringe for some silly teenage reason that probably involved how awkward it would be if we were in the dark with each other. It wasn’t until I visited the park again as an adult that I finally went on the ride. When I did, I had this sudden flashback to a childhood memory.

“I must have gone to Disneyland with my parents when I was young, because standing in the dark and listening to the music made me recall being on the ride with my mother. This was during the lead-up, before you get in the Doom Buggies and begin the ride proper. I remember being absolutely terrified by what I thought was an endless maze. I felt like that line, after it entered the building, lasted forever. Kids can be like that sometimes, but my memory of this is crystal clear – the corridor genuinely didn’t end. I felt like there were people all around us, there had to be, but somehow it was just me and my mother, alone in the darkness.

“And then I remember that this terrible thing appeared out of nowhere. I’m not sure how to describe it. It definitely wasn’t a person in a costume, but it was too realistic to be the projection of a cartoon, and it was talking to us in voice that sounded like laughter and crying at the same time. Like it was hurt, but it found its pain amusing. Meanwhile, the walls kept stretching, and as they got taller I started to see awful things in the gaps between the ceiling and the floor.

“My mother held my hand the whole time. She kept whispering to me: ‘It’s going to be okay. You are brave, and you are strong. Nothing in here can hurt you.’ Just that, over and over, until the ride was over.

“When we finally got out, I ran straight to my dad, who knelt down on the pavement on the other side of the gate and hugged me. He and my mother both patted my back as I cried. I was so relieved to be outside again that my tears wouldn’t stop.

“My dad seemed confused by how afraid I was. This didn’t occur to me until I started thinking about it much later, but isn’t it strange that he didn’t understand why a young child would be frightened by a scary ride?

“I moved back to LA almost immediately after my mom’s funeral, but Dad became a little distant with me. We were both grieving, and it must have seemed callous to him that I was posting shots of myself at Disneyland on social media right after Mom died. Really I just needed a break from the move, from my job, from mourning, from everything – and I guess a part of me felt like my mother would never die as long as I kept returning to that memory of her holding my hand in the Haunted Mansion.

“My dad eventually moved on and married a younger woman. She would probably be my evil stepmother if my life were a Disney movie, but she’s actually a princess, and I adore her. I spend more time with her than I do with my dad these days, but I’m trying to do better. I thought I could reconnect with him if I took him along with me on a visit to the park, but he turned down my invitation. He told me he enjoyed my photos, but that he had never been to Disneyland and had no interest in going. Too many screaming children, he said.

“That was a surprise to me, so I told him about my memory of the Haunted Mansion. While I was talking, his face went completely pale. I don’t mean that as a figure of speech – it was like all the blood had been drained from his skin.

“He insisted that he had never been to Disneyland with me and my mother, but then he told me something strange. When I was about five years old, we went to visit his family in Seattle. My grandfather had just taken on management of a property in Capitol Hill, one of the old Gothic Revival mansions that used to be common there before the neighborhood gentrified. It was an old house, almost as old as the city itself, but my grandfather was having trouble finding potential buyers. The property had been designed by the student of a famous British architect by the name of Robert Smirke, and he wanted my mother to come take a look. Do a walkthrough, point out any potential areas of interest and value, that sort of thing.

“According to my father, my mother had a bad experience in that house. She refused to talk about it with him or anyone else, and she never went back to Seattle. She took me along with her on her tour of the property, and I was apparently just as upset as she was when we came out, even though my dad says we spent less than ten minutes inside. If I thought this place was the Haunted Mansion, and if the ride at Disneyland evoked such a strong memory, it makes me wonder – what did we see in that house?

“I checked with my grandfather, and he said the property never did find a buyer. The only person who seemed seriously interested was a British woman by the name of Gertrude Robinson. Shortly after she made inquiries, the place burned down. Imagine my surprise when I ran a search and learned that this Gertrude Robinson was employed by an institute dedicated to paranormal research.

“So,” Ted concluded, meeting Jon’s eyes, “I gave you my statement. I hope it will be useful to you. I was wondering what you could tell me in return.”

“Not much, I’m afraid. As you can see, we’re still in the process of organizing our records. We’ll investigate to the best of our abilities and contact you if we learn anything.”

“I would love that, thank you. Well, you have my information so…”

“We’ll be in touch. I believe I see my assistant Melanie hovering around. She used to have a large following on social media herself. I’m sure she’d be happy to show you outside.”

“So you’re from LA,” Jon heard Melanie say as she held the door open. Ted directed his dazzling smile at her, which she returned before allowing the door to slam shut behind them.

“Statement ends,” Jon muttered as listened to their conversation growing fainter. He ended the recording and leaned back in his chair.

“Any thoughts you’d like to share, Martin?”

“Oh, I, um,” Martin stammered. “I didn’t want to interrupt the, you know. The statement.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he emerged from between the shelves.

“It’s fine, Martin. It was a relief. To know that you were listening.”

“I’m sorry, I… What? It was?”

“I’ve never been good with people like that.”

“People like… Wait, excuse me?”

“People who are so…” Jon made a vague gesture to illustrate his point. “Sunny. Bright. Content. When someone comes here to make a statement, they’re usually upset.”

“Ah, right. I can see what you mean. But he looks like he just got back from a trip to the happiest place on earth.”

“The happiest place on earth?”

“You know, Disneyland Paris.”

“Disneyland Paris? They finished construction?”

“A few decades ago, actually.”

Jon sympathized with Ted Nakamura’s father. Between the crowds and the relentless sunshine, he couldn’t imagine a more ghastly location, and by this point he considered himself something of an expert on cursed geography.

“I don’t suppose we’ll have to go there ourselves to investigate,” he said, making an attempt to smile. He failed. His muscles were still tense from the process of taking a statement, and his face felt frozen.

“Really? You… want to go to Disneyland Paris? I suppose I could come too, I mean, if it’s not…”

Jon was alarmed by how red Martin’s face was becoming. Did Martin want to go to a theme park? Jon didn’t know much about Disneyland – or Paris, for that matter – but his childhood had been unusual, to say the least. He’d never asked, but Martin’s family couldn’t have been much if he had nowhere to sleep but down here in the archives. Perhaps he could use a vacation. Perhaps they both could.

Jon turned to face his assistant. “Martin, I…”

“Did someone say Disneyland Paris?”

Jon frowned. “Does this conversation interest you, Elias?”

“I heard you were planning a trip. You really must go sometime. It’s fantastic, quite the experience. I went myself, back in 1996.”

Elias made a quick series of taps on the screen of his phone before holding it out in front of him. Jon and Martin leaned forward to get a better look.

In the photo, Elias was posing next to someone wearing a Mickey Mouse costume. He wore an aloha shirt over denim shorts, and he was grinning from ear to ear. The camera had caught him in the act of pulling a tall man with a square jaw and a severe expression into the frame. The image quality was poor, but the man seemed far too pale for the summer sunshine.

Jon’s frown deepened. “And that is…?”

“Oh, this is Peter. You’ll meet him soon enough, I’m sure.”

“Do you, um. Do you go to Disneyland often, then?” Martin asked.

“Just the once. Peter lost a bet, you see.”

“Right.” Jon couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had a bad feeling about this.

“I wouldn’t mind going back. We could all go together, make an office party of it. It would be fun. You do know what fun is, don’t you, Archivist?”

Martin’s eyes darted between Elias and Jon. “I don’t think it’s safe to…”

“Come now,” Elias interrupted. “Would you have any reason not to?”

“China.”

“Excuse me?”

“China. I need to follow up on a statement, something Gertrude was looking into before she traveled to New Zealand.”

“Excellent. I’m glad that’s settled. I’ll leave you to your preparations, then.”

“Damn it.” Jon clenched his fists on the table as Elias left. A trap had been set, and he’d walked right into it.

“Don’t feel bad,” Martin said, oddly perceptive. After everything they’d been through, Jon was coming to appreciate that about him. “At least we know that Elias is still human. He likes Disneyland, after all.”

Jon wasn’t convinced that a fondness for theme parks qualified someone as being ‘human,’ but what would he know? He had to admit that Elias was right about one thing – it would do him good to get out of the archives.

“Are you really going to China, then?”

“I suppose I am.” Jon removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead.

“I’ve always wanted to go someplace like that, somewhere far away,” Martin said, his eyes darting to the tape recorder on the table. “I’d like to hear about it. If you don’t… If you don’t mind, of course. Maybe I could, I mean, we could go out for a coffee together. After you get back.”

“All right,” Jon replied, replacing his glasses. That would be rather nice, actually. “After I get back.”

#The Magnus Archives #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood #Elias Bouchard #Haunted Mansion #full episode format #canon compliant #ghost stories #my fic

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let-me-love-you-loki · 5 years

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Welcome to Oblivion--Ch. 11

Chapter 11

I thought I’d never step foot in a gym like this again. The scent in the air was the same—PVC plastic stretched over tumbling mats, chalk dust and spring oil, sweat and hairspray—but the energy was different. The Cove wasn’t the weight room and practice gym at a tier one high school. It was a state-of-the-art performance center designed to efficiently churn out champions.

The building was bigger than the actual gymnasium for the basketball team. The main entrance opened up into a foyer with offices along either side. Athletic directors, coaches, trainers… they all had glass fronted offices that looked out on their players and athletes coming and going. Directly in front of the entrance was a wall blocked off by a glass case filled with photos, banners, and trophies. There were double doors on either side of the case, leading into the lower floor.

“Can I help you?” The voice came a from a woman with long dark hair pulled back into a messy bun. She looked to be in her late thirties or early forties, but she was in such good shape it was honestly hard to tell. “If you’re looking for the student health center, it’s on the other side of campus.”

I fidgeted, tucking my hair behind my ears and plucking at the elastic around my wrist. “I’m here to see Coach Helmsley.”

She smirked. “Which one?”

“There’s more than one?” I replied, feeling like a fool. I flicked my elastic band hard enough that it stung. “I’m looking for the poms coach.”

The smirk stayed put as a pair of watery eyes surveyed me quickly. She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you. We don’t typically get walk-ons, but let’s see what you’ve got.”

I held up my hands, backing away a step. “No, I’m not here to try out. Peyton Royce sent me. She said she’d talked to you?”

Recognition clicked behind the coach’s eyes. “Addison Holloway.”

I nodded. God, this woman was intimidating.

A smile replaced the smirk. “Peyton’s been going on about you. I’m surprised the recruiters didn’t tell me you’d been accepted.”

She turned and walked toward a set of double doors leading into the lower gym. I rushed to follow. “GMU didn’t recruit me. I had a cheerleading scholarship to Georgia Tech, but got sidelined when I tore my ACL. I don’t compete anymore.”

I watched the coach lift her brow in question. “Still, you’ve had what… six or eight months post op? No brace. Walking fine. You never thought about trying to get back in?”

I shook my head. “Not really. No one wanted me once I got injured, Tech pulled my scholarship. By the time I was cleared to practice again, the season was over and nationals were down the toilet.”

Coach Helmsley pushed the doors open, and I got hit anew with the scent of a cheer gym. I had a sudden flash of memory, but shook my head hard to clear it away.

“That’s the high school game, Holloway. This is a whole new world.”

“Addy!” The Australian drawl pulled the vowels of my name long. I looked up to see Peyton bouncing over, her face flushed and hair stuck to her neck. “Oh, I’m so glad you decided to show up. Some of the girls have been watching your tapes…”

“Give me ten, Royce. For talking too much,” Coach Helmsley snapped. Peyton’s eyes went wide for a brief second, and then she turned and took off at a steady pace, taking the widest route around the room. “She wants you to be the new choreographer.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to tell her—”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve watched your tapes, too. And I put a call in to Lynwood yesterday.” Coach Helmsley led me toward a set of bleachers off to the side. She climbed a few steps and sat down, gesturing for me to join her. “Do you know what they said?”

My fingers went back to the elastic on my wrist, twisting it until it was so tight, I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. “I don’t know.”

“That you were the best athlete they’d had in years. And if you hadn’t gotten injured, you would have been NCA athlete of the year your senior season.” My gaze jumped up to hers. That was something I hadn’t expected. “There’s no doubt that you’re talented and you’ve earned your reputation. I want that reputation attached to my team, Holloway.”

It took a moment for those words to sink in. Coach Helmsley leaned forward, her gaze locked onto mine. “I’ll work with the AD to get you in and see if financial aid can float you a work study or something to compensate you. Practice is three days a week, workouts at six every weekday morning, games, and competitions. Let’s start with you taking a look at practice today. Then we’ll talk.”

She patted my knee and got up. She jumped from the bleachers and went out onto the floor where girls were spreading out the tumbling mats. Peyton jogged by on her eighth circuit and smiled. I looked up, expecting to see nothing but the ceiling. Instead, I found myself staring up at a glass-walled balcony that opened out into one of the second-floor weight rooms.

But more surprising than that was seeing the two men standing at the glass, looking down with grins on their faces. I rolled my eyes and waved up at Roman and Drew. The first crossed his arms over his chest, giving me an I told you so grin. The second wiggled his fingers playfully.

***

“So… when do we get to see you in the outfit?” Drew asked from across the library table. I had a pile of books open in front of me as I worked on a history paper. He might have been working on something important, but you’d never have known by the way he kept talking.

“You don’t,” I snapped for the fifth time. “I’m doing work study with Coach Helmsley. That’s all.”

Drew stretched out—I could feel his long legs pushing their way into my space under the table—and sighed. “That’s just a shame. You’d look good in it.”

The grin on his face and the playful tone in his Scottish baroque made it less of a creepy statement than it would have been coming from someone else. I stuck out my tongue. “I’m going to tell Roman you said that.”

My companion let out a laugh that echoed through the stacks. I kicked him under the table, not wanting to get kicked out of the building. He covered his mouth with his hand to stifle the chuckles. “Oh, love. Roman’s the one who wants to see it.”

I blushed, ducking my head behind a heavy volume on political interactions between ancient Greece, Rome, and Egypt to hide from Drew’s gaze. It was just like him to remind me that he was one of my boyfriend’s best friends and that, at least a couple times, they’d talked about me when I wasn’t around.

“Roman needs to keep his mouth shut,” I hissed, mostly to myself. But I couldn’t help feeling a little exhilarated at the knowledge that he thought about me. Maybe as much as I thought of him.

***

The sun wasn’t even up over the tops of the trees when I walked into The Cove. It had been almost a year since I’d done any kind of activity more than walking or some yoga here and there. While Coach Helmsley hadn’t made any specific requests for my workout attendance, I was pretty sure she wanted to see how I compared to the other Pirate poms.

My heart turned upside down as I tied my hair up into a ponytail. The offices were empty and dark. Every step and sound echoed louder in the emptiness. I pushed through the double doors and took the stairs up to the second floor. It was a few minutes before six, but there was already a dozen or more athletes spread out in the weight room.

I found an open space out of the way and began stretching. The ache that went through my muscles and limbs felt good. There were a few spots that hurt more than they had before, but I was out of shape, so it wasn’t surprising. My knee was tight. It scared me to see the scar from my surgery stretch, the skin shiny and silver.

For a moment, I was back on that gym floor feeling my knee give out as the ligament ruptured. I felt it. I heard it. I’d never felt pain like that in my life. And I hadn’t felt it again since.

I sighed, shaking my head to clear the cobwebs. It was true that it was the first time since I’d been cleared from physical therapy that I’d put my surgically repaired knee through its paces. I wasn’t quite sure where to start.

The door swished open and closed several times. I glanced up to see Roman walk in alongside his cousins, Jimmy and Jey, and Baron. He wore a pair of basketball pants and a tank top that showed off the inked patterns that snaked up his bicep and onto his chest and shoulder. I’d never had the chance to see the crisscrossing mat pattern over his deltoid and the swooping swirls and triangles that made up the hidden pieces. I wanted to follow the lines and shadows with my fingertips.

I stood, trying not to draw attention. I didn’t know what the workout was for the poms, and I didn’t want to draw Roman’s attention.

“Addy!” Peyton’s voice echoed through the weight room. I ducked my head and pulled in my shoulders. I needed to teach her how to be quiet.

She bounced toward me, the movement and the call of my name drawing Roman’s attention. I watched his face change and knew the moment he saw me. His lips tipped up into a grin. His eyes lit up. And I felt like the whole world drifted away.

He crossed the room in a few strides. In a moment, he was there, his strong, warm arms wrapped around me. He tugged me tightly against his chest and kissed me without abandon. Like he didn’t care that there were dozens of people around. And it made my head spin in the best way.

“Morning, baby girl,” he said softly, nuzzling his nose against my cheeks and leaving soft kisses on my jaw. He made a deep rumble in his chest that vibrated through me until my fingertips and toes tingled.

“Morning, Ro.”

He grinned, his hands skimming down to settle on the curve of my lower back. “I like the shorts.” He leaned around, making a show of taking peek. “A lot.”

#welcome to oblivion #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe #wwe fanfiction #ofc #oc #addy holloway #roman x addy #multi-chapter #polyamory #polyamorous relationship #lips of an angel #prequel to lips of an angel #college!AU #college!shield

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starrybbarnes · 5 years

Text

impressions [b.b]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Clint Barton x Reader (Family)

Summary: you’re a new recruit, and Bucky has been keeping on eye on you on why you were hand-selected by Stark. One day he finds out why.

Word Count: 3083

Author’s note: imagine hawkeye being your uncle. the bants would be amazing. anyways, I’m trying to keep writing as much as i can, so if y’alls have any requests, it might come to life! :)

Warnings: it’s a long fic?? Maybe a swear ? some old man humor?

“Well, here we are!”

The car came to a complete stop right in front of the Avengers compound. It was huge, pristine. Almost scary-looking if it weren’t for the sight of two agents in the middle of the front lawn doing yoga.

“Y’know uncle,” you started, “I’m having second thoughts.”

“Oh, nonsense, Y/N” your uncle Clint chuckled. “Everyone is very excited to meet you, especially Wonder Boy.”

You rolled your eyes at the last part. You always wondered what it was like to work with that man. And now it was coming to a reality. You couldn’t thank your uncle enough for taking you under his wing. From a young age, he saw that you were very much interested in whatever “uncle Clint was up to.” It also helped that you had a sharp eye for accuracy.

Therefore, it only seemed fitting that while in school, your uncle would train you 3 times a week after school was done. Before you knew it, you became one of the best markswomen in the family. Next to your Uncle, of course.

The door opens to reveal a very giddy Tony Stark, embracing your uncle in a huge hug and some remarks about the family, the weather, the Knicks, standard dad stuff.

“And I’m assuming this is Y/N,” Tony said as he turned to you: he stuck out his hand, “An absolute pleasure to meet you.”

“If anything, I’m the one that’s starstruck,” you gushed, “I’m a huge fan of your technology and work in general. It’s pretty cool.”

“You see, Legolas!” Tony cheered, “I’m still hip and coool.”

“Man, don’t make me regret my compliment, Stark,” you groaned, “you sound just like my Uncle on trivia night.”

“Hey, hey, hey” Uncle Clint argued, “I’ll have you know I’m an absolute boss when it comes to pop culture references. The me-mes, if you will.”

“I’m gonna internally combust,” you sighed, earning chuckles from both Stark and your uncle.

“Walk with me, Y/N,” Stark started as the three of you made your way inside the compound, “so tell me a bit about the young markswoman.”

“Well, whatever my uncle told you, it’s pretty much the same. I’m 25, just graduated with my masters, and I happen to have very good aim. Grew up in Queens with my mom and younger brother,” you shared.

“Look at you! A whole degree!” Tony congratulated, “It’s a good thing Barton didn’t immediately put you into SHIELD as I first intended.”

“Believe me, it was a tug and pull,” you said.

And you were right. Your skills kept getting better in high school, and you remembered how badly Tony Stark wanted to recruit you. You were to be the next protege, and quite frankly you didn’t want any of that.

You remember clearly when Stark came to visit you during your senior year of high school and you flat out told him: “Listen, I’m a teenager. I’m very self-centered right now. I’m only 17, and the biggest issue in my life right now is whether or not I can afford to apply to my dream school. I’m tryna go to college. And maybe have a boyfriend, who knows. Point is: I’m not ready to be recruited.”

That explanation definitely shook your entire family, and Stark knew that you were S.H.I.E.L.D material, but understood your different passions. It was a very mature thing for you to say, and he was impressed. You vaguely remember telling him “I won’t let these skills go to waste. I’ll give you a call when I’m ready.”

And ready you are now. Granted, you would rather work on your non-profit to train kids to become S.H.I.E.L.D recruits, but you knew Stark would be more than happy to give you advice on how to successfully pull it off.

“Well, I’m overjoyed you joined our team,” Tony thanked profusely, “Your talent is amazing.”

“Anything my Uncle do, I can do ten times better,” you added.

“I won’t complain about that,” Clint said as he ruffled your hair.

“Are you ready to meet the rest of the team, Y/N?” Tony asked as you walked towards the door of the common area.

“I think so?” you hesitated, “Hey, uh, Stark? Is it okay that you don’t let the team know that I’m like, part assassin, part scary graduate.”

“Keepin’ it humble, I respect that,” Tony chuckled.

“Thanks, Tony,” you smiled, a small plan brewing inside you. Your uncle already knew of it, and when you guys made eye contact, he gave you a thumbs up.

“So how do you want to be introduced: intern? Assistant? Your Uncle’s dietitian, which by the way, he needs one.” Tony proposed.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” your uncle scoffed.

“How about, shy intern training to become full time at the compound?” you offered as the three of you faced the door.

“Perfection,” Tony simply said, “Now, it’s showtime!”

Tony does his signature grand entrance and simply extends his arm out, earning one single applause from your uncle. It was very fitting.

“Everyone,” Tony Stark started, “I’m sure you’re all familiar with Old Man Hawkeye. Well now, I present to you his niece!”

You slowly emerged from behind your uncle and shyly waved to the team, “Hey guys, my name is Y/N, and I just started my internship here.”

“Y/N is an absolute smarty pants I tell you,” Tony began once again, “she has a Master’s degree!”

Claps and cheers erupted with the team. Steve was the first to speak, “Well, I’m personally very proud of your accomplishments, hopefully, after your time here, you’ll consider staying here for the long run.”

You just smiled, you couldn’t believe that the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan was proud of you.

One by one, the Avengers went up to you greeted you individually. You were most excited to grow your friendship with Wanda and Nat, seeing was you three were clearly outnumbered.

“We gotta stick together the three of us,” Natasha commented, “It ain’t safe here.”

“It just reeks of testosterone,” Wanda added, “you’ve become mine and Nat’s blessing.:

Thor was super happy to meet you as well, as he now has a new opponent to challenge in drinking, to which you responded with “you’d be surprised at how much I can take, Mr. Lord of Thunder.”

Both Sam and Rhodey were very appreciative of you, and couldn’t wait to discuss anything and everything. Sam more about if you’re the prankster type, and Rhodey more on the topics of bad scary movies (this week’s choice: Jaws.)

Banner was super excited that there’s another person with a passion for the sciences and social work, and you knew you’d hang out in the labs a lot. Vision was just grateful that there was another person to add more inside jokes.

And then there was Bucky. Naturally, he was the last one to greet, but that didn’t stop you from sweating your balls out. You admired him greatly.

All he did was give you a handshake, flashed an adorable smile, and simply said: “Welcome to the team, Y/N, the name’s Bucky.”

You croaked a small thanks, and shuffle next to your uncle, trying to hide your face, ears turning pink from embarrassment. You couldn’t deny that Bucky was an attractive fellow. It would be like denying that the Sun is bright.

“It’s those eyes, I’m telling you,” your uncle said to no one in particular, “Stark, I really don’t know how you do it.”

“That’s what you got from a handshake between him and your niece?” Stark asked.

“Like I said, I’m cool and hip.”

You and Bucky just glanced and quickly smiled at each other before staring at the ground.

You could sense Bucky was gonna warm up to you soon.

。。

6 Months Later

Your ‘internship’ was better than anything you’ve ever asked for. Sure, no one knows that you can take someone down that’s double your size with a measly flip, but you showed your strength and ingenuity elsewhere.

You got to sit down during briefings, work alongside Stark to innovate tech, and even got to observe Hill and Fury as directors. All this information was more than you’d ever accumulate during your all-nighters in college.

You still trained with your uncle, but this was where it got tricky (but not like the Run-D.M.C. song, though). Certain supersoldiers were night owls, and others liked to wake up at the ass crack of dawn for their dumb run. This is definitely not college.

So what you and your uncle would do is go to the gym that was at the very other end at the compound immediately after breakfast. People knew there were offices in that general vicinity, so no one questions it.

You remember Bucky once asked what you’d do on ‘the other side’ and you would just reply, “lame intern stuff, filing, and organizing.”

He has bought it, but it just gets harder to hide this not so obvious secret. He knows you sometimes hit the gym because he knows you’ll “practically melt” if you were to step foot in one.

And he knows weird tidbits like your favorite spot to people watch, your favorite campus cafe, and what cat you would like to have as a pet (a black one, because they remind of a time when you wanted to be a witch).

Sometimes you’d be a night owl with Bucky and join him in the common area and you guys would just talk. And soon after, you guys became really close. Nothing was hidden from each other, and it was nice to confide in someone.

You were still shy around everyone else (minus the gals), and people knew you wouldn’t hurt a fly. Bucky would specifically notice all the details that he enjoys about you. You’d do the same, only you tried to conceal any indication that you liked Bucky.

Your uncle would notice it too. “You know, one of these days he’s gonna catch you slipping. I’ve heard him ask for you around the same time you come train with me,” He mumbled, sipping some tea out of his mug. Mornings like these were the best: tea time with your uncle.

“Is this in relation to our feelings for each other or the fact that I can probably beat up Bucky?”

“Hmm, either work. So you do like him, eh??” Clint chuckled.

“Great,” you huffed, “another person knows.”

“I’m telling you, it’s his eyes,” Clint commented, “no one has eyes as beautiful as his.”

“... Don’t you have blue eyes??”

“Yes. But the point is, you gotta reveal your skills now,” your uncle added.

“What if he thinks I’m weird?” you whined. Your uncle just stared at you and continued drinking his tea.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Clint consoled. Both of you heard some footsteps coming from the hallway, and saw a freshly showered Bucky emerge.

“Speaking of the Dreamboat,” Clint said, “Bucky!”

“Good morning to you too, Clint,” Bucky smiled, “you’re in good spirits today.”

“That’s because Y/N has to tell you something life-changing,” Clint gasped, winking at you to see if you got the idea. He quickly scurried towards the gym and left it at that.

“Goddamnit uncle,” you mumbled, a laugh escaping from Bucky. Your cheeks flushed red as you lowkey checked him out.

“So, what’s this ‘life-changing’ statement of yours, sugar,” Bucky inquired, his nickname for you throwing you off.

“I, uh, um,” you stuttered, “well, I was thinking about, um, maybe training under someone. And, uh, I know we’ve, um gotten closer.” Bucky nodded in agreement.

“So canyoupleasetrainmeorsomething,” you quickly got out, your breath nearly turning into a heave.

Bucky looked at you with genuine happiness, “I’d love to, y/n. When did you want to start?”

You saw the clock: 9:35 AM.

Usually, you’d start at 10, so for him to see your stunts, he’d have to come slightly later.

“How’s 10:30 sound? I took into account the time it takes for me to get ready and my complaining.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bucky stated, winking when he said, “I’ll see you soon.”

You blushed once again and waved goodbye to him. Quickly you sent a text to Tony and Clint saying to gather towards the gym and to bring anyone that was free.

Bless Bucky’s heart. He didn’t know what was in store for him.

。。

9:50 am

The gym was quiet, as usual, with the exception of another agent running on the elliptical. You had changed quickly and briskly walked towards your uncle.

“No one’s here yet,” Clint observed, “Do they even know we have another gym?”

“Don’t worry I told Bucky to come at 10:30, and everyone else at 10:15, so we can warm up and give a real show,” you beamed.

“Well, it’s almost time, let’s just work out like a normal day,” Clint said.

“Aye aye, Hawkeye,” you saluted, mentally congratulating yourself that you came up with that on the spot.

。。

10:25 am

Sweat had been going down your spine, and you weren’t tuckered out yet.

One by one the team came walking in to observe what was going on, and so far, they were really impressed.

The first half-hour was you and Clint basically doing a mix of sparring, some agility tests, and a bit of archery. You didn’t want to show off just yet, but you’d throw a couple of tricks here and there.

Tony commented something about the “Manchurian Candidate walking towards the gym,” so everyone scrambled to make themselves look occupied, while also observing the scene was about to unfold.

You then looked to Clint and simply said, “Knives?”

“Knives,” your uncle responded.

And with the same agility you had before, you walked towards the indoor range to the side and picked your favorite knife. You quickly saw the clock read 10:28 so you decided to just go with the flow.

As if on cue, Bucky walked in greeting Steve, and then set his eyes on you. You hadn’t heard him walking into the room, and you just went ham on the knives.

Each target that would light up, you’d throw your knife and hit it in the dead center. The sound of the knives hitting the target would be unsettling to some, but it was just background noise to you now.

You then grabbed a bow and arrow and decided to hit the furthest target that you could see, which was a good 20 feet away. And just like with the knives, you’d hit the bullseye.

Your uncle decided to spar once more, but this time you were put up against an agent, John. John would train with you sometimes, and he offered to take part in the show today.

You started throwing punches, and John did not hesitate to strike back. It went like that for about 5 more minutes until you saw John struggling a bit. You did your classic flip maneuver and took him down. You and John started laughing, and your uncle came over to give you a high five.

You turn towards your audience and received some hoots and hollers. All but from one person.

To say Bucky looked mortified was an understatement. Here was a soft and reserved girl who wouldn’t hurt a single soul, throwing knives at targets and taking down a big guy.

Everyone had left the gym, and Bucky kept his mouth agape.

“Bucky, sweetie, you’re gonna catch flies,” you commented as you reached for his cheek and closed his mouth, “you seem, distant. Is everything okay?”

Bucky blinked, then spoke: “Did you learn that in a day??”

You laughed, “More like in 18 years, Buck.”

“Years?!” Bucky almost screamed.

“Yeah, my uncle has been training me since I was a kid. I like this stuff, it’s really fun and exhilarating,” you said nonchalantly, “Tony made me a SHIELD agent about six months ago.”

Bucky just had an incredulous look on his face. He really didn’t know what to think.

“It just… looked so cool.” Bucky whispered, “why didn’t you tell me earlier??”

It was your turn to not say anything, “I thought you were gonna think I’m weird, or like an overachiever like Steve.”

“Doll, do you know who I am?” Bucky asked as he stepped closer towards you, “I wouldn’t judge you for anything, and you know that.”

He pulled you into a hug, his chin resting on top of your head, “and, quite frankly you looked really hot while doing it.”

“Even when I put John in a chokehold?”

“That was the best part.”

Bucky let go of you slightly and simply looked at you with that longing feeling in those rom-com movies. You know which ones.

You decided to take it upon yourself and close the gap once more and kissed Bucky on the lips. He was a bit startled at first but soon caught on. Hands on your waist, he pulled you as close as humanly possible, and your hands immediately wrapped around his neck.

The two of you pulled away, breathing heavily. You sighed in content and simply said, “Everyone was right, your eyes really are dreamy.”

“Why not look at them all night when we go on a date later today?” Bucky said with confidence in his voice.

You smiled once more and quickly kissed Bucky on the cheek, “I’d love that, Buck.”

The sound of the door slamming open pulled the two of you out of a trance.

“Stark! You owe me twenty!” your uncle hollered as he motioned for the two of you to leave the gym.

You groaned. “I’m gonna internally combust, Uncle Clint.”

“Not before you stare at Bucky’s eyes again. Now get out of here, lovebirds. I’m trying to work out,” Clint grumbled.

Bucky grabbed a hold of your hand, walking with so much glee.

You looked outside the window and saw agents doing yoga.

“Hey, Buck?”

“Yes, y/n?”

“Let’s go do some yoga,” you offered. It was the first thing you saw when you got here, and now you get to share that activity with someone you cared about. Bucky nodded in agreement and you guys walked outside, holding hands, basking in the sunlight and the birds chirping.

。。

Hope you enjoyed! :)

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