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powderblueblood · 13 days

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BEAUTIFUL!

ronnie ecker recounts the last first day of the worst of her life or i wanted to rewrite beautiful from heathers the musical, hellfire and ice version. warnings: first person narrative (ronnie's pov), swearing, era-typical misogyny, bullying and slurs, mention of eating disorders, everyone's a dick, everyone's kind of gay for lacy doevski. wc: 3.8k

September 1st, 1984.

First day of the end of your life. It’s hard not to get a little intro-outrospective.

If I was a diary keeping person, which I’m not because I don’t like to leave a paper trail outside my own goddamn academic brilliance, I’d write something like this.

Dear diary, I believe that I’m a good person–y’know, relatively speaking, if you don’t count that one time I bit that one kid for catcalling me. But, here we are! First day of senior year! And I look around at these kids I’ve known all my life and I ask myself–what happened?

We’re in the hallway, bottlenecking toward the cafeteria. It’s right around lunchtime, so everyone’s getting a real good look at everybody else, categorizing who they hate, who they hate more, who got boobs over the summer. God, do we ever stop slinging shit at each other, even when we think no one’s listening? There’s a constant cacophony in the hallways of Hawkins High.

Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!

And no one does anything about it.

It’s pretty sad, considering where we came from.

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased.

Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!

Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste. Especially me. I was crazy for that shit.

Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome. “Shit, my bad!” That underclassman I just walked straight into looked terrified. And for good reason.

Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school. This is the Thunderdome.

Trailer trash!

For the very first very last time, I crane my head around the swamped hall and try to recall where my new locker is. First star on the right, and I wiggle in my combination and dump my books inside. I take a second, shoving my head inside the cool metal darkness (voluntarily, for once) and mutter, “Hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon–”

“–Christ. College will be paradise, if I’m not dead by June.”

I crane my neck out. Two lockers up from me, elegant fingers pull open an identical door to mine except hers, of course, already has a vanity mirror hung up inside. She checks her reflection, not like it ever needs checking. One of her faithful little redheads stands beside her, smacking bubblegum so loud it makes my ears pop.

“You are so melodramatic, it’s crazy.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing…”

It sucks how the chrysalis of adolescence has made most of us completely obnoxious. I try not to be a sucker for nostalgia, but I can’t help but remember how much easier this was in middle school. Waking up on a weekday didn’t have to be like living in a segment of Creepshow.

I know, I know, I know, life can be beautiful. No plastic Jesus on my dashboard (or… handlebars, I guess) but I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again…

Then I get a whole shoulder of dork, right to the face. Bubblegum snaps between snorts, I can see that he’s been shoved my way. Yeah, we could be beautiful…

“Ow!”

Just not today. “Hey, are you okay?”

This Jansport sporting asshole twists his face up right in mine. “Get away, nerd!” Jesus Christ.

The choir of angels go on–I’m just trying to make it to the cafeteria and grab a fucking chicken pot pie. I’m starving, and I could use a little less soundtrack.

Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo!

But, listen. It’s not a total nightmare. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke or Brown–

–or, NYU, if we’re being really serious.

“Wake from this coma, take my diploma–” God. This chick’s voice seems to cut through the din of the hallway like a bell, “Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy covered walls and smoky French cafes…”

“Sooo uber pretentious!”

“Watch it, freak!” I don’t even need to turn around to figure out who that’s directed at. But, I’m a little preoccupied with singing my own tune, here! Muscling through to the lunch line, grabbing a tray while I–

“–fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze. Hey, Ronnie!”

Dude, shut up! I swing around, trying to spot the owner of that very different, very familiar dulcet tone when some duckbill hat wearing dickwad upends my lunch tray. Dressed in Hawkins Tiger green and gold, this is one of many prize dickwads.

Bear with me, I’m trying to place him.

“Ooops.”

Andy Sweeney. Indiana’s worst point guard… “whose true talent lies in being a huge dick.”

Did I mention before about that lack of filter between my brain and my mouth? I patch it up pretty good most of the time, but sometimes…

“What did you say to me, skank?” Andy demands of me all darkly and shit. It’s scary. Even if I’ve got a foot and a half on him.

“Aaah!” I recoil, looking at his flexing fists, “Nothing.”

I back up from him, way way up, leaving my mess of a lunch tray on the ground. Even though that makes me feel shitty–when did I become the guy who left stuff for the already harangued janitorial staff to clean up?

We were kind before; we can be kind once more…

Head down. Stalk through. Find the Hellfire table. But, not before someone chucks me lightly on the arm.

“Agh!” I holler before I register him. I am totally on edge. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Hey,” he grins in a sardonic way that says I cannot believe we’re putting ourselves through this again.

Eddie Munson. My best friend since pre-pube. The closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother, unless Granny finally lets me get that gecko I’ve always wanted. I’m almost eighteen, for Chrissake, I should be allowed.

Anyway, Eddie rocks. We know this. Look at him.

“We still on for movie night?” he asks.

I beam. Our first day of school comedown tradition. “Shit yeah, you’re on Jiffy Pop detail.”

Eddie’s got a little pep in his step and it jangles his wallet chain. Dude can’t help but attract attention– almost all of it unwanted. “I rented Evil Dead.”

“Hohoho, again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?”

��What can I say?” Before I can even warn him, Eddie’s backstepping straight into– “I’m a sucker for a gory ending.”

“Eddie Munson, king of the trailer park! What, you didn’t qualify for free lunches this year?”

A hand comes down hard on the age-old tin lunchbox Eddie’s carrying. The clatter it makes against the lino makes me want to cover my ears and hide, especially when I see Eddie’s face. Total resignation. It’s humiliating.

This guy?

Tommy Hagan. He’s the smartest guy on the basketball team, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Too goddamn easy, man!” he guffaws, and I would try to figure out what farm animal he most resembles, but apparently I’m too busy–

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!” –being the hero.

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Tommy also tries to tower over me, but I’ve got a decent number of inches on him too.

My cheeks blaze.

“Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen. Tell me, Tommy, do you actually have a personality outside of sticking your nose right up Steve Harrington’s ass?”

Tommy gets closer and closer. So close that I can see the nose hair move as he huffs through his freckly nostrils. His finger points right between my eyebrows.

“… you have a zit right there.”

Cue rapturous laughter from the peanut gallery.

Dear diary…

Why do they hate me? Why don’t I fight back? Why do I act like such a creep? Why won’t he date me? Why did I hit him? Why do I cry myself to sleep?

Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope here! Something to live for!

The doors of the cafeteria burst open and Tommy’s attention is thankfully wrenched away from me. Everyone’s attention is wrenched away from me. Because we’ve all been waiting for this.

They enter the caf in a solid formation, so solid that people part for them. Some gazing, some gawping, some glaring. The name calling ceases, the bullying pauses.

This is the royal court. They float above it all.

Tina Burton, head cheerleader. Her dad is loaded. He sells engagement rings.

Heather Holloway, runs the yearbook. Badly. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants.

Even the lessers are notorious. Carol Perkins has been having sex since, like, seventh grade. Cass Finnigan’s been pretending to save it for Jesus but giving a backdoor key to whoever buys her peach schnapps. Nicole Summers invented three new slurs last year alone.

And finally, Lacy Doevski.

The Almighty.

She is a mythic bitch.

These girls, they’re solid Teflon. Never bothered. Never harassed–

“I would give anything to be like that.”

And I know I don’t sit in that thought alone. Glancing around the tables, the coagulation of cliques, I can hear the desire coming from my classmates.

I’d like to be their boyfriend. If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. I’d like them to be nicer.

“What’s the over-under on one of those harpies getting kidnapped, taken to some abandoned warehouse to be photographed naked and left for the rats?” Eddie mutters into my ear as we slam ourselves down at our regular table.

I roll my freakin’ eyes. “I told you that your Barb Holland theory was insane.”

Eddie shrugs, flipping open his recovered lunchbox. “Just sayin’... They never found a body. Anyway, my money's on the ice queen. If everything they're sayin' about her dad is true, she is prime ransom material.”

“You are so unnecessarily twisted.” But my eyes are still following the crown jewels. I notice that Lacy, Tina and Heather all rise to the girl’s room immediately after they finish their minimal lunch.

I interrupt Eddie and Gareth’s too-intense-for-lunchtime debate about the morality of posthumously publishing The Silmarillion. “I have to take a leak.”

As I gently push the door of the bathroom open, I can see Tina standing nervously at an open stall door. Heather is ralphing like her life depends on it. The reptilian arch of Lacy Doevski is bent towards the mirror, touching up her lipstick.

“Grow up, Heather,” Lacy says in this voice that could weirdly be misconstrued as concerned, “Bulimia is so sophmoronic.”

Tina grimaces. “Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather.”

From inside the stall, Heather’s voice echos. “Yeah, Heather– I mean, Tina. Maybe I should.”

I’m about to open my mouth, say something about ginger ale or peppermint tea, but Mrs O’Donnell enters behind me. I dive into a nearby stall, pretty confident I haven’t been spotted. But, I leave just enough of a crack in the door to watch everything that unfolds out there.

“Ah, I should have known–”

Heather vomits again. Damn, how can she pull trig so much on so little?

“–the witches from Macbeth always travel in a trio.” Her heels click over the cracked, yellowing tile, but the way Lacy turns from the mirror gives even O’Donnell pause. “Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell over all the vomiting. You’re late for class.”

Hey. Idea. I dig around in my backpack and scribble on a piece of paper, leaning against the bathroom door.

“Heather wasn’t feeling well.” Lacy says. Again, confusing enough to sound kind! “We’re helping her.”

O’Donnell chuckles all airly. Like she’s any match for her. “Not without a hall pass, you’re not. Week’s detention.”

That’s my cue. I scurry out of the stall, presenting O’Donnell with–

“Um, actually, Mrs O’Donnell, all four of us are out on a hall pass.” I gulp and glance at Heather, who’s finally hauled herself off her knees. “Yearbook committee.”

It’s super hard to breathe as O’Donnell inspects my handiwork. It hits me that this could go horribly, horribly wrong, and I can feel Lacy’s eyes boring into a hot spot on the back of my head.

O’Donnell arches her eyebrow. “I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

She goes to hand the note back to me, but Lacy intercepts. Once the coast is clear, she takes her time looking it over.

“This is an excellent forgery,” she tells me. A drop of freezing sweat runs down my back. “Who are you?”

“Uh, Ronnie– Veronica Ecker,” I stumble. “We were lab partners last year?”

Lacy’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t remember taking the lead on coolly dissecting a frog in front of me, it seems.

“Doesn’t matter. I crave a boon.”

She holds her glare on me. Jesus, why do I feel like I’m about to have my throat slit? “What boon?”

“Um. Let me sit at your lunch table. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone…”

What? It worked for Nancy Wheeler. Even if she had to boink Steve Harrington to do it, but I can't quite stretch that far.

The girls all chorus in laughter at me. Oof.

“Before you answer, I can also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes.” Dude, I cannot tell you where this boost of bravery (or foolhardiness) is coming from.

“How about prescriptions?” Heather asks.

“Shut up, Heather,” Lacy cuts.

“Sorry, Lacy.”

Then, she zeroes in on me. Takes slow steps toward me, just like Tommy Hagan did. But her stare is tearing strips right through me. I even freaking hunch as she gets closer.

“For a greasy little nobody,” Lacy says, her voice dropping low so I have to strain to hear her, “you do have good bone structure.”

Tina and Heather must already be tuned into this Lacy-only frequency.

“And a proportional body,” Tina adds. “If someone didn’t catch you during a basket toss, you’d probably only kind of fracture your spine. That’s very important.

“Of course, you could stand to de-hobo your wardrobe.” Heather goes so far as to flick the flappy pocket on the front of my overalls. “Salvation Army much?”

“And ya know, ya know, ya know…” the shiniest jewel in the crown hums, tapping her lipstick tube against her cheek, “This could be beautiful.” Her painted fingers pinch my chin and turn it down toward her–because I’m fucking tall. “Mascara, maybe some lipgloss and we’re on our way. Get this girl some blush– and Heather, I need your brush. Let’s make her beautiful.”

A manic looking Tina produces a vanity bag out of absolutely nowhere. “Let’s make her beautiful…”

“Let’s make her beautiful?” Heather snarks, but Lacy shoves a hand in her face.

Her eyes turn on me again. Dark and sparkly and… and… smiling. At me. “Okay?”

“Okay!”

Then, whaddaya know, smash cut, it’s the next freaking day. I don’t know how that works, but I don’t see another goddamn narrator so pipe down.

The halls are their usual shitshow– Billy Hargrove shoves the new Hellfire freshman, Gareth, into a locker. Eddie hauls him up by the collar and they run headlong into a gaggle of girls, who all scream because every nerd that plays a fantasy game is contagious.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Get away, pervert!”

“What did I ever do to them?” Gareth yelps, exasperated. Hard not to feel bad for the kid.

But Eddie’s sage about it, even though he knows it’s as unfair as I do. “You’ll get used to it, freshman.”

“No, dude!” Gareth pushes back, verging on a panic attack, “Who could survive this! I can’t escape this–I think I’m dying!”

O’Donnell, hot on the tardy check, appears behind the both of ‘em. “Who’s that with Lacy?”

“Damn. Someone got a welfare increase,” Nicole Summers hatefully snarls.

“Who’s the babe?” says Andy Sweeney.

But Eddie Munson, oh-ho, Eddie Munson settles his eyes into slits. Anytime, any place, he’d know–

“Veronica?!”

“Veronica?” Cass and Carol caw.

“Veronica?” Steve and Tommy mimic.

And Lacy Doevski… she looks to her dutiful right, and smirks. “Veronica?”

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful!

My whole life, I haven’t had a choice but to be one of the boys. My best friend’s a boy. I’m in a band with all boys. I’m surrounded by boys all the time who make gross boy jokes and do stupid boy shit. Nobody, not even my Granny, even though she fucking rules, ever asked me if… if I wanted to put on a skirt and get my goddamned nails painted. And it’s not as if I mind being on the more masculine side of things but, shit, is it so wrong to want something? Even if I believed what I was pretty much dragged up to believe, by all my friends and the world at large around me–that being a chick was totally dumb. Couldn’t I try it on?

You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way!

Lacy beckoned me into her walk-in closet, which was about as big as my bedroom and smelled of gardenia, and put me in a pleated skirt set that she said didn’t fit her temperament anymore. ‘But it’d work for a novice.’

Ask me how it feels, lookin’ like hell on wheels–

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Eddie seethes as I pass, carried on the cloud of Lacy’s perfume.

‘My god, it’s beautiful!’ I’d said, spinning around in the stupid, flippy skirt.

“Those bobbleheads totally morphed her!”

‘I might be beautiful!’ I mumbled, fingering the diamond studs she put in my ears that she made Heather pierce.

“She looks like–like–” Gareth chokes.

And when you’re beautiful…

“A girl!”

… it’s a beautiful fuckin’ day!

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Now, at first, I think I’m fucking flatlining, expecting to wake up with goddamn tubes down my throat and shit– but I’m not. I’m in my regular old bed, with my regular old alarm clock screaming at me. I smash my hand down on it and jerk up, out of the covers.

First place I go is my wardrobe.

I feel the physical sensation of my heart dropping like a lead kite when I flick through my old thrift store samesies and Granny Ecker hand-me-downs to find no such minty plaid skirt set.

Just a dream.

Which is such a bullshit conceit. Sorry to break it to you.

I admit defeat and pull on my overalls, scrunching my ballcap over my head and muscle out the door. I’m already late, for me.

But–then, there’s an apparition hovering at my mailbox.

Someone who excitedly takes notice and waves when she catches me staring, arm stretching out of her fur-trimmed peacoat–which is looking a tiny touch shabbier than it used to these days.

“Happy early acceptance day, asshole!” Lacy Doevski sing-songs. Sing-songs. Which is… something I have to readjust to, given the liminal version of her I just experienced.

“Oh.. jeez,” I mutter, feeling dazed still, “I forgot that was today.”

Lacy’s brow gets all pinchy. “You okay? You look like steamed dogshit.”

“Thank you so much,” I drawl sarcastically, “It’s nothing, I slept funky. Where’s Eddie?”

Lacy shifts in herself a little, tucking hair behind her ears and avoiding my eyes. “How should I know?” Right. That. The daylight version of this little tryst they pretend they’re not having. Honestly, if the two of them would just bang it out– well, maybe things might be worse off and this weird little platonic ménage à trois of ours would be totally ruined forever, but at least I’d have to stop tiptoeing around them. “Come on, are you gonna open it or what?”

Oh, right. There’s a whole gravity of a situation supposed to be happening here.

I kind of feel the saliva gathering at the hinges in my jaw, you know the way you do when you’re about to puke your guts up? But then, I remember. Bulimia is so sophmoronic.

I yank open that rusty mailbox and a thick, thick envelope with a New York University imprint sits inside. I yank it out.

Lacy stares at me like I’m the dude holding the thing the Ten Commandments were written on.

I’m not drawing this shit out. I am not teasing myself, dude, you couldn’t pay me to–savagely, I rip the envelope open, which makes Lacy cringe. She probably has a little knife for these sorts of things, knowing her.

Dear Veronica,

Congratulations! I am delighted to inform you…

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Well…?”

I thrust that hot, heavy paper right into that pretty girl’s face. “Full. Goddamned. Ride.”

Lacy gasps, grasping the letter so hard it leaves claw marks. Her eyes shake back and forth, reading and re-reading the whole acceptance ream. It’s weird, and I know it’s weird, but I’m standing there, looking at her and trying to make her make sense with the Lacy that showed up in my dream. That girl existed, and she was mystifying, in a horrifying way. A total reign of ice cold terror. But now, I’m staring at Lacy, who’s all short, weird angles and specific enthusiasm and… it’s hard to see how those two girls ever lived in the same body.

She’s a little Whitman. She’s got those multitudes. And, actually, so do I.

“I knew it!” Lacy hisses, “And I want you to know that I’m not at all bitter. While I should be celebrating early acceptance with you, I’m glad–”

I grin at her. “You’re a little bitter.”

“Fine, I’m a little bitter, but I’m mostly excited. New York City, Ron! That’s transformative!”

“Yeah… speaking of. Lacy?”

“Yes?”

Dreams are meant to be prophetic and shit, right?

“Doyouwannagivemeamakeover?”

She cocks her head at me. She still hasn’t let go of that acceptance letter yet. “What?”

“Do you.” I take the envelope from her hands. I know she’s capable of identity theft. “Want to give me. A makeover.”

“Huh?” Her fingers stay curled around imaginary paper. Oh, my god.

“You heard me! And I hate repeating myself!” I flail a little. I get like that, quick to bug sometimes. “Look, you said it, New York is gonna be… transformative. I’m going to be a freaking lawyer, dude, fingers crossed, all going well.”

Lacy nods, not a hair out of place, with perfect confidence,“You are.”

“And when was the last time you saw a lawyer wearing fuckin’ overalls?! Huh? The people vs Howdy Doody?”

“I like your overalls.” I know she’s saying this because it’s the right thing to say, and she’s been practicing doing that really hard. She also might like them now, after repeated exposure, in a Stockholm syndrome sort of way.

“But they don’t scream esquire,” I impress upon her. And it’s true. I truly do believe that I can’t set foot in New York fucking City looking like I just fell off the back of a turnip truck–nor do I want to.

It takes a big fat beat, but her face changes. Lacy looks almost dastardly–dark, sparkling eyes like Lacy from the dream. She looks me right over, making the calculations of how to reupholster tragically unfashionable me in her mind. And then she arches her eyebrow.

“Well, remember… you asked, Veronica.”

#published by powder #r. ecker by powder #hai brainrot #ronnie ecker #stranger things fic #l. doevski by powder #this is really just wish fulfillment for me it's been stuck in my maladaptive head for weeks

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no-one-fuck-a-man · 2 years

Text

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Eleven - (The Sue Sylvester Shuffle) Its All About Football

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: Who knew that thrusting the bully filled football team and the glee club that they target would lead to such chaos? Honestly, you probably should have expected as much.

Word Count: 9,317

WARNINGS: Anger, violence, eating things that you shouldn’t, almost cheating.

(A/N): Sorry for the short delay, I have recently gotten terribly sick, and am still going through it.

-----

The new year had sprung, and with it, new experiences. Ones that weren't necessarily good.

With one of your feet resting upon the back of a chair, you slouched in another. Awaiting the arrival of the Glee Club's Director so that the lesson could finally start.

Soaked through, stained red, frozen, and with sloppy ice laying upon him, in rolled Arite. His presence being announced by a pitying Tina.

"Oh, my God. Artie."

Anger filled you as Brittany rushed down to attend to her boyfriend, instantly realising who had done this, no proof necessary.

"It was awful," the boy whimpered.

Finn Hudson felt the same way you did, outrage flowing through his veins, causing his limbs to shake.

"That's it," he seethed, "Screw rehearsal! This ends here and now."

"Oh, hell yeah!" you yelled, jumping up from your seat, following the boys that all wore letterman jackets, much to the displeasure of Quinn and your sister.

"We're gonna go all Thunderdome on those guys!"

You would have questioned Puck's reference if it weren't for the objects of your anger striding through the doors of the choir room themselves. Wearing letterman jackets of their own, suddenly you stuck out like a sore thumb in the mass of football players.

"So, this is what the ladies' lounge looks like on the inside."

"This is the choir room," Sam replied to the curly-haired blonde jock, "Now, put up your fists because you and I are gonna do some dancin'."

Ever wanting to be the leader, Finn reached out a hand to the boy's chest, stopping him from advancing, altho pointlessly as he didn't even make to move towards the group, as they chuckled in reply.

"No, I got this, Sam."

Insulted, the boy quickly shoved his arm away from his body.

"There's too much talking, not enough fighting, for my liking."

The same football player scoffed at you, "Yeah, you sure put up a fight against us last time."

"Well, maybe this time we can go one-on-one, instead of five of you fuckers ganging up on me like a bunch of pussies. Ask Karofsky. I'm sure he would be happy to tell ya' how well I fair in a fair fight."

The boy in question rolled his eyes, trying to act tough in front of his friends, deciding to change the subject before you ended up showing them all the proof to your statement.

"Coach Beiste told us to come. Where is she?"

As it turns out, right behind the. Along with Mr Schuester.

"Watching it." She pushed through the boys, gesturing to the maroon chairs. "Everyone have a seat."

"You too, guys," Mr Schue said, "All right. New Directions," he continued once everyone had done as told, standing side by side with the coach, preparing to give the announcement, "Let's give a warm welcome to the newest members of Glee Club."

There was outrage all around.

The Glee Club members insulted by the presence of their main tormenters infiltrating their safe space.

And the jocks. Purely because they thought it was lame or "gay", and they were far too worried about how they -and others- were perceived to understand that people do things purely because they enjoyed it. No matter how it could make them look on the outside to everyone else.

"Oh, hell to the no, Mr Schue!" Mercedes yelled over all the riot, "Are you serious?!"

"This is some sick God damn joke, and I do not appreciate it!"

The teacher rose his hands, trying to calm the teenagers, as Azimio jumped to his feet. As Coach Beiste commanded them to with a couple,

"hey"s.

"Are you serious?" Finn stood up now in outrage. "These are the guys who made Kurt transfer."

"Mainly one," you bit, harsh glare directed towards Karofsky.

"And there's no way I am sharing the choir room with a known homophobe," your sister spoke, pointing at the boy who couldn't make eye contact with anyone in the room, herself.

"I don't disagree with you guys."

"So why are they here?!" you yelled, jumping up yourself, "Why is he here?!"

"Because Y/N, I talked to Coach Beiste about it, and she and I both agreed that the kind of bullying that David does is born out of ignorance. Sit down, Y/N."

A hot breath slowly exited your nose as you steadily lowered yourself back into the chair beside your sister. Fixing the man with a death stare for your troubles, thanks to how angry you were.

"Having him in here, as difficult as it may be for us, is an opportunity to show him and the rest of the guys that being in Glee Club is kind of cool. You know, find some common ground."

Coach Beiste took over the man's speech, pointing a hand towards the football players gathering on the left side of the room. "All of you are gonna be in this Glee Club for one week. No exceptions."

"She's bluffing," Karofsky told his buddies, "Next week is the championship game. Without us, she has no team."

"With you, have no team! You guys have gotta find a way to come together, or we're gonna get our asses kicked from here until Tuesday finds a saddlebag full of buckwheat."

You still didn't get her metaphors.

"If I have to stay, I'm not singing no show tunes," Azimio voiced, "That is the music of my oppressors."

"Do you even have any idea what we do in here?" Finn questioned in exasperation.

"No." Mr Schue shook his head. "None of them do. We have to show them. Rachel, Puck. Haven't you guys been working on something? Why don't you give it a whirl?"

"Fine. As offended as I am by their presence here, I won't let anything get in the way of a performance," she stated as Puckerman angrily removed his jacket, shooting the jocks a glare as he reached for his guitar.

After that, quite frankly, in your opinion, disgusting performance between the delinquent and your sister. Including the boy making threatening moves toward the football players, everything seemed calm once the song ended. A lull in the tense atmosphere. Until it was brought back tenfold. Making you roll your eyes at Azimio's words.

"The girl with the mohawk had a really nice voice."

Puckerman smiled towards him sarcastically, acting as if he were in on the joke, removing his guitar. Before the instrument was soon turned into a weapon, and he rushed the boy.

Everyone jumped up then.

Some to stop the attempted violence.

Others to join it.

You were one of the latter.

Or so you tried to be.

With Quinn pushing at your chest, keeping you away from the fray whilst still hurling her yells at the jocks. And Mike, with his arms wrapped around yours, tugging with the blonde's pushes.

"You've had some shitty ideas in your time, Mr Schue! But this one takes the cake!"

His eyes fluttered at your words, his back pressing against the coach's who held Puckerman at bay, also trying to stop the group of teens from going full gladiator mode against each other.

"Great first day, right?" he remarked sarcastically, Beiste returning it with her own statement.

"Awesome!"

It was like you had gone deaf.

One second, cries of anger filled the room. The next? Nothing.

And that was all thanks to one thing.

One sight you caught out of the corner of your eye.

The wild kicking of your sister's tight-clad legs thanks to being hoisted into the air. The perpetrator? A random jock who had been forced into the club for the week. Stopping her from pouncing onto one of his teammates.

Quinn grew worried at your sudden silence and lack of movement, Mike's head poking around to see why you had stopped, considering that was so unlike you.

They didn't have the chance to follow your line of sight as you dropped to a bend, easily slipping out of Mike's distracted hold, causing Quinn to tumble into the Asian boy.

"Oh, so you wanna die today?!" your roar made the others in the room pause mid-action, turning to face where you now stood facing the boy holding your sister still.

The same boy whose eyes were wide as saucers, with enough fear in them to rival someone staring down the barrel of a gun.

Quickly dropping your sister, the jock high-tailed it outta there. But you weren't about to stand for that, chasing him instantly.

Taking any means necessary to defend your sister, including using all your skill to jump onto the piano in one steep step, using it as a means of a shortcut as the boy rushed through the door.

With you not too far behind him, Mercedes yelled, "He's gonna see God!"

---

You were still furious after that whole ordeal in Glee Club. And after punching a bag of sand didn't seem to help, you decided to take a jog around the track.

Only for your jogged movements to stumble into a stop at the giant flame-painted 'WHMS' cannon sat in the middle of the football field. Mouth dropped in pure confused disbelief, so much more so that you hardly noticed the head cheerleader walking up to you.

"What's with the cannon?" you asked her dumbfounded, pointing towards the object when she paused beside you, the other Cheerios walking by, heading back into the warmer school.

"Sue bought it."

"She a pirate now?"

"She's planning on shooting Brittany out of it."

"Right." You nodded before her words finally sank into you and got you to tear your sights off of the dangerous contraption and peer down at the girl. "Wait. What?!"

"Don't worry, I'm gonna talk to Mr Schue about it right now."

"You want me to come with?"

She shook her head in denial, hands deep in her jacket pockets, "I'll be fine. Hey, uh, what happened to that guy you were chasing?"

"He's really fast," you grumbled, eyes glaring down at the ground below you. "He got to his car and drove off before I could reach him."

"I can't say I'm not glad. Don't want you to be suspended again. Or worse. Going to prison for murdering him."

Huffing, you folded your arms across your chest, pointedly not looking at the blonde.

"Come on." A cold palm rubbed against your arm, coaxing you to look up at its owner. "You know I'm right."

"Doesn't mean I can't be mad about it," you mumbled.

"Has anyone ever said you're like a big baby?"

"No. But apparently, I did drink your breast milk, so it only makes sense."

"You're disgusting." Quinn smiled.

"You love me."

'I love you'

---

He wouldn't look at you.

There you were, bracketed in between two cheerleaders, each with tight grips upon your forearms, glaring over at the boy who had grabbed your sister.

You weren't planning on storming him... much.

But thanks to Santana and Brittany's hold upon you, you weren't able to, no matter what. Knowing how feisty Santana would get, especially if Brittany were involved.

But you were still so deep into your glare that you had entirely blanked what Mr Scuester had been saying.

That was until Karofaky voiced his outcry.

"No fricking way!"

Finally, you turned to face your teacher as he spoke, "We don't have a choice. Sue pulled the Cheerios from the game, so if we don't do it, there's no halftime show."

"And this is a problem because?" Zizes pressed.

"Well, isn't the halftime show the best thing about a football game?" you remarked, but Coach Beiste decided to give an answer of her own.

"It's not a problem. It's an opportunity."

"Opportunity to humiliate ourselves," the curly blonde football player replied.

"Hey. The whole point of this week was to bring you guys together. To bring the school together."

"Wait, so you want us to play the first half, change into some "sequin" ball gowns, and then go out and do the halftime show at our own championship game?" Azimio asked his coach.

"Yes."

"You're gonna be tired," you poked fun at the jocks in a sing-song voice as they groaned.

"It's the championship game!" Azimio jumped up. "This is a crazy town! This is crazy!"

"What about the Cheerios in Glee Club?" Finn asked over the other jocks' squabbling.

"They have a choice," Mr Schue stated, "Us. Or the Cheerios competition."

"Well, obviously Quinn is gonna choose the Cheerios," your sister remarked bitterly, gesturing down to the blonde seated beside Brittany.

"How do you know that?" you asked as Quinn shot her a glare.

"Yeah, that's not fair," Finn joined ranks with you, "You don't know what she's gonna do."

"I think the cheerleading is gonna be a lot of fun," Mr Schuester stated, still hoping to coax them into staying with his next words, "But if you go, you're gonna miss out on us doing the most iconic song of all time."

"Spooky?" you questioned.

"Yes, Y/N. "Spooky"." He pointed your way. "In fact, the Super Bowl of pop anthems: 'Thriller'."

The Glee Club side of the room grew excited by the news, as the jocks looked less than pleased.

"Yeah, remember a few years ago when that Philippine prison did that mega performance of 'Thriller' and put it on YouTube?" Now, in the four months it took to rehearse that number, prisoner-on-prisoner crime dropped eighty per cent. Doing that. Together. As a team. Created a unity within that prison. And that's what I'm looking to do here."

"Send us to prison?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, you know. I'm big on Micheal and everything, but isn't that kinda what they're expecting us to do?" Mercedes asked, shrugging her shoulders, with her arms still deep within the pockets of her hoodie.

Pointing to the girl, Mr Schuester was happy to continue his announcement, "Which is why we're gonna mash it together with the 'Yeah Yeah Yeahs' equally spooky single, 'Heads Will Roll'."

"Oh, this is gonna be so cool," you gushed to yourself.

"Who's 'Yeah Yeah Yeah'?"

At Azimio's question, you called over, "They're a band, big guy."

"New Directions," Beiste spoke to the club, turning to her football members, "Titans. We're going to zombie camp." To which she solidified with a sharp blow of her whistle.

---

'Zombie Camp' was fun.

Even with the football players shoving one another thanks to their stumbling feet.

But by the end of the first lesson, the team and football players were at least making some good progress. And your director seemed to think so too, with his clapping.

"All right. Nice progress, guys. Let's take a breather, and I'll see you in the choir room for a lesson in zombie make-up."

"Make-up?" Azimio voiced affronted, following after the group as members of the Glee Club kept up the zombie act, "No, no, no, no, no."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," his coach countered.

"It's not make-up like that."

"How else could it be?" he asked you.

"It's not the kind that makes you look pretty," you explained, gesturing your arms around, "This stuff is meant to make you look gross and gory."

"That sounds a bit better, I guess," the large boy mumbled.

You were mid-way through your zombi make-up, working on the giant gash across your face, when you spotted the football player by your side, about to smush something into his eye. Something that he thought was regular make-up.

Snapping your hand out, you grasped his wrist mear inches from his face.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Why not?"

"That stuff will glue your eye shut. Trust me, I've done it before. Lost like fifteen eyelashes ripping it open."

The boy dropped the sponge onto the table, reacting like the thing had just bit them and it was poisonous.

"Yeah, wise decision."

---

"What did you get on the math homework yesterday?"

Turning to Sam as you walked down the school's halls, you asked, "We had math homework?"

The blonde boy looked at you obviously, making the small amount of dread he had given you to flood larger.

"Shit."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you can talk to her about it," the boy said, referencing your math teacher and patting your shoulder.

"Oh, you are so naive." You recognised that voice, even from almost halfway down the hall. Quinn. "This whole school is about labels."

"Wow." You also knew that scoffed tone. Finn.

Patting Sam a few times against his arm, you pointed out the two squabbling teenagers before you were about to round the corner. Literally pointing them out, as you said, "Uh, dude."

"I never realised you were so freaking weak."

"Oh? I-"

"What did you say?"

Finn spun at the sound of Sam's voice, only to spot you side by side with the blonde.

"All the Cheerios quit Glee Club."

You peered over to Quinn to see if it were true. Who silently shook her head and shrugged at your sadly.

"So, why are you yelling at my girlfriend about it?"

"I'm yelling at her because I'm the leader of this team."

"You are swimming in hypocrisy, Finn," you told the boy, who looked confuddled beyond belief.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means that you're acting all high and mighty for someone who's done the exact same thing. Or do I have to remind you of how you ditched the club, too, in favour of being on the football team last year?"

"That's not the same!" he tried to excuse, "I didn't have any other choice."

"Yes, you did. You had the same choice that Quinn had now."

"But I made it better. And I felt really bad about it!"

"Yeah, well, I'm sure she feels pretty fuckin' bad about it, too."

Quinn's eyes fluttered at you, shoulders dropping softly, suddenly so thankful you were here.

"Why are you always sticking up for her? For everything," the tall boy sneered, "You've got a problem with me acting like this, being a leader, but you have no issue with her?"

"Well, maybe it's time for a change at the top," Sam jumped back in.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This is kinda hot, actually."

At Quinn's words, you took a glance at her before processing her words and looking at her properly.

"Good to know," you said with a nod. Receiving a light push t your arm from the girl's boyfriend, to which you playfully tapped his own back in retaliation.

Finn, who had also been looking at the girl over his shoulder, turned back once Sam began talking again, giving you the opportune chance to lean over to her with your whispered question.

"That includes my participation too, right?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at you dramatically. The smile she tried to force away told you all you had to know. Making a confident grin pull across your own face.

"It means that maybe the reason everyone hates us is because we need some new leadership," Sam gave the boy some, quite honest, truth, "Face it, you've had your feet in both worlds for a year now and never been able to bring them together. I guarantee you, if Y/N were on the football team-" He gestured to you, using you as an example for his point. "-Things would be in harmony right now."

"Thanks, man." You smiled, catching Finn glaring at you. "What? I'm not allowed to take a compliment?"

"Point is," Sam stressed, continuing, "Maybe someone else could."

"What? As in maybe, you?"

"Or me, apparently."

"As in yes," Sam replied to Finn.

"Well, maybe we should settle this right now," Finn challenged.

"Bring it." Sam pushed the boy ever so lightly.

Pushing the blonde back in his chest, Finn replied, "Brung."

"Oh, well, this is childish," you stated, watching as the boys carried on shoving each other, getting harsher each time.

Quinn thought the same thing as you, watching them with judging eyes.

"Yeah, you want some more of that? You like that?" Finn egged him on.

"Really, guys? Really?"

"What are you doing?" you squinted at the two. "This isn't how you fight. Throw a punch- Ow!" Rubbing at the now sore skin under the shirt of your arm, you looked wide-eyed at Quinn after the glaring blonde had just pinched you. Which you decided to use to your advantage. "Yeah, even start pinching. That'll be better than this shoving bullshit."

Before the boys' "fight" could grow any harsher, Mr Schue jumped in between them with a yell.

"Hey, hey. How many fights do I have to break up this week?"

"Oh, don't worry, Mr Schue. That wasn't a fight." You waved the man off, to which you went ignored at the teacher was still far too focused on keeping the boys separated.

"Now, calm down. And get back to Glee Club." He tugged Sam around, pushing him down the corridor. "Come on."

"Hope to see you there," Finn said, turning to Quinn before walking off himself.

You rolled your eyes at the boy's departing form.

"Don't listen to him..." you would have said more to the Cheerio if you hadn't gotten so distracted. Now beaming at her brightly.

"Why are you smiling?"

You gestured to the gold necklace you had gotten her for Christmas, hanging around her neck, below her signature gold cross. "You're wearing it."

"Of course I am." She lightly pushed your shoulder. A sad look began to take over her eyes as she took a step backwards. "Now, get going. You're gonna miss Glee Club."

As you watched the blonde leave, you could only think one this.

'Screw Sue for making her do this'

---

You were awarded the temporary title of 'Honoury Football Player', even including a jacket of your own, just for this performance with the guys from the Glee Club and the jocks.

Zombie makeup and movements fully ingrained into you by the end of the performance of 'She's Not There'.

Rounding the green auditorium chairs, Mr Schuester came to the foot of the stage, slapping the file onto the. "Guys." Momentarily looking back to a shrugging Beiste. "Awesome!"

A breath of relief flowed through you after the teacher's psych-out.

"All you football players, nailing that zombies classic on- on the first time out. I am impressed."

"Now get your butt's into the locker room and get cleaned up." Beiste stood up.

"Thank God, this stuff's uncomfortable."

The students and faculty of William McKinley High School felt like they had suddenly walked into a horror movie, one where their entire football team turned into jock zombies and now patrolled the halls of their school like phantoms of the day.

Being stopped only by a gang of hockey players.

"Appropriate outfits," the ring leader said, "They represent the death of your guys' reign at this school."

"How many times do we have to put you puck-head in place before you realise that football rules this school?"

"I forgot we had a hockey team," you mumble to yourself from beside Azimio, "They must suck worse than you guys did last year."

Azimio hummed at your words, nodding in agreement.

"Maybe, but not after you make dancing fools of yourselves at that halftime show."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you remarked, raising your hands up into the air, "Is it that, or just the fact that you guys don't have big enough balls to do it yourselves."

Shocking yourself at how quick you were to defend the football players that tortured your team, not even including what they -Karofsky- had done to Kurt.

The leader scoffed at you, shaking his head.

"Come on. You know it, and we know it. The whole school knows it."

"Yeah, I don't take criticism from people who have mullets worse than the 80s."

"And anyway, they'll think differently after they see it," Karofsky jumped in now, "It's gonna be awesome."

"Holy crap. They turned Karofsky gay," the "puck-head" laughed, gaining a chuckle from his teammates.

Rolling your eyes, you said, "You can't turn people gay. It's in their DNA, I know we live in Ohio, but you should know what that is at the very least."

"What are you moose knuckles doing with those slushies?" Puckerman brought everyone's attention to the filled cups within their hands.

"Ready for the fireworks? It's independence day."

"Cover your eyes!" you yelled as a warning to the football players that had never experienced the pain of the ice-cold drink before.

Even with your warning, the stinging juices still managed to trickle and splash into their eyes.

Minutes later, you were in the boy's locker room washing the drink from your eyes and face as the football players whimpered in pain.

"Agh, my eyes!" Karofsky grunted in pain, "Burning."

"Just relax. It stops after a couple of hours," Finn said, as all the glee clubbers reacted to being slushies as if it were nothing, just proceeding to clean their faces of the zombie make-up.

"I tend to sleep it off if I can," you advised, walking forward towards the long-haired Hawaiian football player, struggling to get the stuff out of his eyes, "Don't rub it back in like that." Helping him wash his face off, you added, "That stuff I stopped you from putting in your eyes burns worse than this if you would believe it."

"No fricking way I'm letting that happen again," Karofsky said, trying to push back the tears in his voice.

"I consider this karma for all the times you've done this."

"He's in the first stage of loserdom: Denial," Artie stated.

"No!" the jock snapped, pulling away from the shower he occupied, "I am not a loser!"

"Everyone's a loser in their own right," you called over.

"Well, not me! And I don't sing and dance. I walk tall and carry a big stick."

"Oh, wow. My mind is imploding with the amount of dick jokes I can make with that."

"Dude." Finn walked towards the pissed-off boy. "Relax. This is gonna be fine."

"Yeah. Of course, it is." Karofsky gave the boy a harsh shove, making you jump up from where you were helping the boy you had been these past few days. "Because I'm quitting Glee Club."

"No, you're not," Beiste stated, turning the corner into the shower portion of the locker rooms, "Fact is, covered in ice and red dye number seven, you guys look more like a team than you ever have out on that field."

"I don't care. I'm out."

"Then you're off the team."

"No way."

"Yeah."

"If we quit, you barely have enough guys to play next week. It's the championship game. You're not gonna throw it."

"Try me."

"All this because you can't handle your eyes burning and being called a loser when you get sacked out on the field regularly? This is what breaks you?" you scoffed.

Finn's voice was pleading when he spoke, trailing off into one of his leadership speeches, "Don't do this. If we stand together and we do the halftime show, we can win this game and be kings in this place."

"Oh, what a castle to rule in," you muttered to yourself, glancing around the locker room.

After looking around at his jock friends, gaining shakes of their heads, Karofsky replied, "Good luck with that." Before all the new Glee Football players trailed from the room.

After looking around at his jock friends, gaining shakes of their heads, Karofsky replied, "Good luck with that." Then all the non-glee football players trailed from the room.

Cutting the tension in the room, you sniffed, then asked the coach, "You mind if I hold onto this jacket for a while? My shirt is soaked, and I don't have any spare clothes here. I gave them to Artie when he was drenched."

---

This is exactly what you needed after the long day you had.

Warm coffee to combat the cold ebbing from the streets outside. Along with the plates of sweet treats and your friends.

No matter how much they jokingly bragged about their number for the upcoming competition.

"Now, I don't want to sound cocky or anything, but... you guys better be pulling out all the stops for regionals because the number we just rehearsed is so off the hook, it's dangerous."

"Seriously." Kurt nodded from his seat beside the boy he wished to call his boyfriend, as you took yours at the head of the table, sitting between Blane and your sister. "People should wear protective headgear when they're watching it."

You sighed as Rachel and Mercedes shared a look.

"Guys, we're kidding," Kurt supplied, not meaning for any harm to be taken by it.

"Yeah, well, it's hard to laugh right now with everything going on at McKinley," your sister replied.

"I mean, look at us," Mercedes voiced, "The stars of two rival show choirs sitting down to coffee?"

"I think that's very healthy of us," you spoke around the lip of your coffee cup.

Gaining a nod from Blane. "I agree."

"But that still doesn't negate the fact that our school is so messed up we can't even keep our own football team together," she pointed out.

"It's so sad, you guys. Coach Beiste and Mr Schue were so close at getting everyone at the school together."

"And the boys are super depressed about it."

"Why hasn't Finn told me anything about this?" Kurt asked in indignation, "I mean, we live together. And I bring him a glass of warm milk every night, just in hopes that we'll have a little lady chat."

"Warm milk?" Blane asked, "Really?"

"It's delicious."

Rachel shook her head. "Finn's too proud to complain. He feels like he has to be strong for everyone, but I know it's just killing him inside. I hope he realises that, you know, if he and I were still together, I could make him feel a lot better, you know."

"Hopefully not by spreading your legs," you muttered.

Rolled her eyes, she replied, "I'm not Quinn."

At the same time you gave her shin a swift kick under the table, Mercedes shoved her shoulder into hers lightly.

"Let it go, Rachel," Kurt replied to her words about Finn.

"I- I just wish that there was a way that we could help. That's all."

"Yeah. And the worst part is how bummed the guys are," Mercedes added, "I mean, they already suffer enough abuse just being in glee. I really think that winning the game could have eased some of the pressure, at least for a little while."

"Wait. So, the whole team quit?" Blane asked, munching on his biscuit.

"Everybody not in glee. I mean, you can't play football with five guys, and one of them is in a wheelchair."

"Yeah, and Coach Beiste put up a sign-up sheet for people to join. I think they'll take anyone at this point."

"Well, the good news is you only need four more guys," Blane pointed out, trying to bring some hope back into the three McKinley students, "High school regulations actually let you play a couple guys short if you want to."

Sharing plotting looks with the girls, the boy had given you an eureka moment.

"But if they figure out a way to make it work, we will definitely be there to cheer 'em on."

"Oh, totally," Kurt was quick to agree, "Blane and I love football. Well, Blane loves football. I love scarves."

"Are you two thinking what I am?" you asked the girls before turning back to the head Warbler, placing a hand upon his shoulder, "Blane, you do not know how glad I am that you love football... even if you do dunk your biscotti into coffee."

---

"Why can't we just let them back on the team just for this game?" Sam asked during the next glee club session after the news everyone knew was coming had finally been broken.

"No." Beiste shook her head. "We carry this thing through. Even if it means having to forfeit the game."

"I can't believe this is it," Finn said glumly.

"Maybe it isn't." Sharing a look and an assured nod with your sister, you both stood up and walked to the centre of the room, where the adults were. "We wanna join the team."

"Or, in better words, we volunteer as tributes," your reference was met with silence, "Seriously? Have none of you read 'The Hunger Games'?"

Artie waved his hand. "I have. I got it."

"Thank you!"

"Wait," the boy then paused, processing what this all insinuated to, ""We" who?"

"All of us glee girls, and Y/N." Mercedes popped up now, followed by Tina. "We wanna join the football team, and we want to play in the championship."

"Come one, guy. Stop screwing around," Mike said moodily, "It's not cool."

"What's not cool is you guys not respecting women enough to realise we're perfectly capable of playing football," Lauren countered, walking to the front of the room herself, "And don't forget who the state champ in Greco-Roman Wrestling is. I've got offers from three different professional wrestling organisations for after I graduate, so..."

"High-five," your sister said, the two sharing one as you celebrated Lauren's achievements yourself.

"Oh, hell yeah!"

"Rachel, have you actually seen a tackle football game?" Mr Schue asked, leaning against the piano, "When they tackle you, it hurts."

"No, I thought it would tickle," you replied sarcastically, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"Yeah, Puckerman voiced, agreeing with his teacher, "And not in the good Mellencamp way."

"We thought about that, but the truth is, is that you guys don't really need us to play. You just need enough players out there to field a regulation team. So, when they snap the ball-" Rachel mimed. "-We're just gonna lie down on the ground. We're just gonna lie there."

"Well, I'm not," Zizes informed, "I'm gonna bring the pain."

You nodded in agreement, "Yeah, me too."

"I guess they won't get hurt if you stay down," Coach Beiste said, clinging onto this shred of hope that had been given to her.

"Okay, what do your parents have to say about this?"

Pulling out a stack of paper from behind her back, Tina moved to hand them over, "We all have signed permission slips from them. It took some convincing, but they understood what it means to all of us."

"Oh, not for me. My dad's were happy to let me do this. They thought it was a great way for me to get out my anger. Tackling people on the field, rather than in the hallways. Even if it is for one game."

"What do you think, coach?" Mr Schue asked, handing the permission slips over.

The woman sighed. "I think... welcome to the football team."

"Yes!"

You celebrated along with the girls, the boys coming down to join in the festivities.

"I'm gonna kick some ass!" you yelled, pumping a fist, "Whoo!"

"Football team! Football team!" Rachel chanted, clapping her hands. "High-five, teammate!"

Oh, this was gonna be so much fun.

---

You couldn't remember the last time you had felt this much anxiety vibrating through your bones. Which, lucky for you, was masked with excitement.

Hats, scarves, and jackets were needed on the cold January evening. And here you were in bulky football gear and pads, the stereotypical black steeks painted under your eyes.

Finn shook your shoulders once the guys joined up with you on the field, noises of excitement coming from everyone.

You had just finished high-fiving Sam when you heard your sister's loud shout came from behind her gold-star-covered helmet.

"Let's kick some ass!"

"Yeah!" you and Puckerman yelled in unison.

"Kick some ass!"

"Kick it!"

"Yeah!" Rachel and yourself stood side-by-side, synching each other up. "I knew it wasn't just me with anger in our family."

Speaking of...

Your eyes glanced over the crowd, finding two familiar faces.

"Hey, dads are here."

"What?" Rachel followed your line of sight, spotting your father's smiling down at you, making her wave excitedly to them with both hands. You, however, used a single arm, waving largely to them.

Even from so far away, you could feel the worry radiating from them. But still, with their bright smiles and waves, you could tell they were looking forward to the game you had felt so passionately about, just to help your friends.

"You sure you're gonna be able to join in?" Finn asked, "I mean, you don't even know how to play football."

"Just tell me what number to go for," you replied confidently.

Before long, you were in a huddle, with Finn giving out plays that you nor most of the girls even knew.

"Punch and Judy on one. Ready, break!"

"Break!" All the guys clapped.

"What?"

"Who's Judy?"

Turning to your sister as you made your way towards the line, you sassed, "You tellin' me that you know a guy called 'Punch'?"

"Where do I go? What do I do?"

Finn pointed her towards the ground, leaving her to copy a position she had once seen on television before turning to tell you where you had to go.

"You have to stand behind Rachel and Tina and stop number 38 when they lay down from going any further."

"Got it."

Copying the position of the boy you were tasked to stop, a smirk tugging at your face when he joined his teammates in chuckling at what your team had to do. Knowing you were gonna take him down, just like you had Karofsky weeks ago.

"Blue 42! Blue 42!" 'What?' "Down! Set! Hut!"

Your sister screamed around her mouth guard as she, Tina, -and Mercedes- all dropped to the ground. Leaving you to slide between the two, halting the football player with a huff.

With the blow of a whistle signalled the end of the play.

"Is it over?" Rachel asked as you helped her and Tina up.

"It was the first play. Obviously, it's not over."

"What happened?" Tina asked next.

Checking the board, you replied, "They got the ball."

By the second quarter, your team hadn't got a single point, and the rivals were up by seventeen. And you were in yet another huddle.

"All right. How's everyone doin'?" Finn asked, checking in.

"Kill me now," Mercedes spoke up exhausted, "I wanna die."

"Well, I'm actually having a lot of fun," you stated, turning to Sam, "Hey, you think Coach Beiste would let me try out next year."

"You don't even know the game."

"No, but tackling people is fun."

"Is anyone else tired of lying down all the time? I want to play," Tina said.

"Oh, hell yeah."

"Just... don't get ahead of yourself, okay?" Finn tried to talk the girl down from her boredom and intrigue, "Ready, break!"

One again bent down behind Tina and Rachel, with your hand pressed into the grass, ready for yet another failed play.

"The Blitz. The Blitz. Watch!" you heard Coach Beiste's voice coming through your helmet, pointing out directions.

"What the hell does that mean?" you asked yourself worriedly, hoping that it wasn't anything directed at you.

"Set! Hut!"

You, as usual, had stopped 38. But Finn had gotten tackled anyway, sending the ball tumbling across the field for anyone to nab.

Luckily, it was one of your team that managed to grab it and begin running it down the field.

Still pushing at the boy, you heard directions being screamed through your helmet.

"25, get to number 4!"

Glancing down at the number printed across your chest, you shoved the boy to the side whilst yelping, "Oh, shit. That's me! That's me!" Bolting towards the boy chasing Tina.

You weren't able to get there in time.

Skidding to a halt, you threw the boy off her back while he manoeuvred himself up.

The whole team gathered around the girl, still flat on her face, along with the medics. Her boyfriend worriedly hovering over her.

"Is she breathing?" Mike asked.

"Is she dead?" you asked before you were able to stop yourself, too busy panicking and racking through your brain, trying to grasp onto any idea you could muster to help the girl. Gaining a swift smack around your helmet-covered head from Sam in reaction to having your foot in your mouth.

Finally, once her mouthguard was pulled away, Tina spoke, "Did we win?" Sending relief flooding through you, your teammates, and the crowd.

"Glad you're alive, Tina," you joked after pulling your helmet off.

"Thanks, so am I."

"We're still in this," Finn tried to keep everyone's hopes up.

"Oh, give it up, Finn," Rachel retaliated, turning to face the boy, "Our only shot at redemption, right now, is to kick butt at the halftime show."

"She's not wrong," you panted, gesturing over to the scoreboard, "I mean, how do we come back from this?"

Just then, a look crossed the brown-eyed boy's face, the type where two wires fell together and sparked a thought that could rival an epiphany.

"Sam! Come here." He waved him over. "I need to play quarterback for the rest of the half."

"Haven't you already?" you asked, confused. Considering he had been the one shouting out the plays all night.

However, the blonde nodded readily. "Okay." Leaving the taller boy to continue giving directions.

"Puck, when the half ends, you gotta go convince Karofsky and the rest of the guys to do the halftime show with us."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

Finn rolled his eyes at the question. "Figure it out. You're my wingman, right?"

"I got tone, Mav," Puck assured, pumping the boy's awaiting fist as you threw out your arms in indignation, looking at Finn shocked.

"And what am I, your dancing chimpanzee?"

"W-Where are you going?" Rachel asked, sensing the boy was about to run off himself.

"You can't have a halftime show without cheerleaders."

"Oh, nuh-huh," you voiced, stopping him before he could make any real distance from your little group, "Quinn's probably still pissed at you. It won't do nothing than make it worse. I'll go."

"You sure?" he asked as you jogged past him, making you turn to face him, walk backwards down the field, and throwing your arms up onto the air, still holding onto your shiny red helmet.

"Well, she likes me right now!"

Then you turned, sprinting away, hoping to make it in time before they left. Even if you had to run in front of the bus to stop them.

Maybe your parents were right. You were reckless at times.

---

Running down the rows of parked buses, you were given some hope of reaching the girls before the Cheerios coach drove off with the cheerleaders inside, thanks to all the other Cheerios mulling around the area of the parking lot.

When the coach came into view, it wasn't hard to find the giant cannon this whole ordeal started with. Along with the three cheerleaders you recognised, even from the back.

"Hey, hey, hey," you called over to the trio, making them turn to find your panting form jogging up to them.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn asked, then looked you up and down, brows furrowing at your outfit, "And what are you wearing?"

You looked down at yourself, spreading your arms out, "Costume party. And to answer your first question, I'm here to stop you from going with Sue to the Regionals competition."

"Y/N..." the girl started, shaking her head softly.

"Come on, Quinn. Please come back to the game. We need you guys there."

"Haven't you been paying attention?" the head cheerleader snapped, "If we're not Cheerios, we're nothing."

"That stigma might have been pushed onto you, and every dumb fuckin' student here might believe that, but you and I both know that that's bullshit. You wanted to be popular, so you joined the Cheerios, but why did you join the Glee Club- Well, why did you stay in the club? Because you loved it, right?"

The three nodded softly.

"We care about you in the club. Sue doesn't! She's fine killing Brittany for a bullshit competition. Be honest with me, guys. if it meant you could still be popular and it wouldn't hurt your reputation, which would you choose?"

With a shrug, Brittany admitted, "Glee club."

"See." You gestured happily to the girl, before your eyes found Quinn's, spotting the sad yet unsure look in her own hazel ones. With a gentle sigh, you stepped toward the girl to speak with her more personally. "I know you. And I know that you don't think you are, but you're strong enough to do this. You're strong enough to do anything, Quinn Fabray."

The blonde smiled up at you, eyes shifting into the ones she used to look at you with during the summer.

"Okay," she breathed.

"Okay?"

A nod, "Yeah."

"Yes!" you yelled in celebration, shooting your arms up into the air, making the girl giggle. "San, what about you?" You then turned to the silent cheerleader.

"Screw her. She put me on the bottom of the pyramid."

"And there's no more harsh vibes between you two?" you asked, waving a finger between her and Quinn.

"No. We duked that out."

"Hot. Wish I could have been there." The blonde smacked your arm in playful punishment. "Ow," you spoke dully, "Okay, we've gotta go, halftimes in a few minutes, and we've gotta get changed ASAP."

"No time for a foursome, ladies," Sue called over from the front of the bus when you tried to leave with the girls, "Bus leaves in five."

"Which, by the way, I'm totally down for," you told the three with raised eyebrows, waving your helmet between the three.

"Of course you are," Santana smirked.

Ticking her head to the side, a smug look upon her own face, Quinn spoke to the coach, "We quit Cheerios." Making you beam proudly.

"You can't quit Cheerios," Sue stated, "Its blood in, blood out. Now get your sweet little cans on that bus."

"But we still quit," Santana pressed, ticking her head sassily.

"You're my stars. If you leave, I have no performance!"

"Sucks for you," Brittany sassed herself as you began walking away once more.

"You signed a consent form!"

"What's that?" You turned, finding the cheerleading coach holding up a sheet of paper. "That the only copy?" you asked, coming closer.

"The only one I need." Swiftly, you tugged the sheet of paper out of her fingertips and shredded it to pieces. "I can tape that back together," she told you smugly.

"That right?" you asked rhetorically, calling her bluff and throwing the shredded paper into your mouth. Taking a smug joy in the way her face fell at your actions. Swallowing the dry, clumpy paper down, you sassed, "Try taping that back together."

Chuckling, you jogged back to the three shocked teenagers, throwing your arms over both Quinn and Brittany's shoulders.

"You know that she couldn't have done anything with that consent form, right?" Quinn smiled up at you.

You stared down at the road below for a few seconds before speaking, "Shit."

---

Puck had managed to get all the football players -but Karofsky- to perform in the halftime show until the boys joined everyone at the end, dancing along with the zombies.

Things were still unsure for the team, which is why you were brought along into the boy's locker room, celebrating with them on the successful performance, before you possibly had to go back out there and tackle more rival players.

"Hey, what are you guys doing in here?" Beiste asked,

"Oh, we were just gonna take out zombie make-up off for the second half," Finn said, "It's kind of itchy."

"Yeah, you're tellin' me," you agreed from your seat upon one of the wooden benches, scratching at your neck where the stuff started.

"No, leave it on. Maybe we'll freak out the other guys a little bit and we need all the help we can get right now. Now, get out there."

"All of us?"

At Puck's question, you peered over at the woman curiously, awaiting her decision on letting the guys back on the team.

"Yeah." She nodded. "All of us."

"Oh, thank God!" you celebrated yourself, once the boys finished cheering, flopping down onto the bench fully, head rolling back into the wood, "Now I can lay down."

"I don't think so."

A groaned, questioning grunt left your mouth as you turned to peer at the coach, who only looked at you pointedly.

"Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes!" She nodded to you happily. "Now, get back out there!"

"I don't wanna! I'm tired!"

"Come on, Y/N." Sam smiled, fingers curling into the shoulder pads sitting on your chest, using that leverage to pull you back up, "You've got more people to tackle."

As you were ascending, against your will, you whined out, "But violence is never the answer."

---

Turns out, having football players who actually participated in the game and knew what they were doing, not including yourself, really made the difference. It also might have had something to do with the make-up.

Finn and everyone around you, were still telling you what number to go for. But other than that, you seemed to be doing pretty well out there. Not to mention you were having a lot of fun out there, more so than the first half. And that could be seen, thanks to your humoured laugh, straightening out your helmet.

"Did you bite him?" you managed to get out through chuckles.

Puck just grinned at you knowingly whilst nodding his head, only making you crack up more.

It was the last stretch of the game when Sam nodded to the huddled team. "It was a good run. We almost had it."

"Well," you began with an exhaled breath, "Considering the fuckery that was the first half, I think this was a big achievement."

Finn, ever the optimist, said, "Hey, this game isn't over."

"There's, like, ten seconds left. It's over." Karofsky shrugged.

Then it dawned on the once quarterback, "Not if the quarterback fumbles the snap."

"How do we make him do that?"

He knocked on your chest. "Just follow my lead."

Meeting the rival team at the line, you started the chant of 'brains', swaying like zombies as you did, creeping them out. Which quickly lead to the entire crowd chanting it into the night sky, like some stereotypical cult meeting.

And it did exactly what Finn planned it would.

The quarterback, too distracted by the crowd, missed catching the ball. Giving your best friend the perfect chance to scoop it up and run it to the end zone, successfully winning the game for your school.

"Oh, I'm gonna pass out as soon as I hit my bed tonight," you groaned, dropping your helmet to the ground and holding your knees as soon as you got to the sideline where the rest of your friends stood waiting.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asked, unable to wipe the smile from her face. Both at winning the game and your overdramatics of the moment.

"I'm exhausted." You let out another deep guttural groan from your chest, spotting the helmet at your feet. Sliding it across the ground, you lowered yourself down, choosing to use the hard thing as a pillow. "I'm gonna take a nap."

"Y/N, you can't-"

"I'm gonna take a nap right here!"

"They always were overdramatic when they're tired."

Your eyes snapped open when you heard that voice. Looking up, you spotted your fathers both looking down at you with proud smiles up on their faces. Scrambling up, you rushed to give them a hug. Full pads and all.

"Dads!"

"We're so proud of you."

"Thanks!" Pulling back, you told them, almost conspiratorially, "I ate paper today."

"Why did you eat paper?" LeRoy asked, both their eyes wide in shock at the information.

"It's a long story, and you had to be there. But all you need to know is that I had to do it, and it wasn't pointless in the slightest."

From over your shoulder, Hiram and LeRoy could see a still zombie Quinn, shaking her head obviously, clearly mouthing the word 'no', letting them know you were lying.

They both hummed at your words as you continued to smile at them happily, content with the decision you made earlier.

They wondered how you weren't a 'leash kid' when they were younger sometimes.

---

Rounding the corner, still turning heads in the halls as the students walked to their next class, thanks to your involvement in the championship game, you came face to face with one Quinn Fabray.

"Hey!" You smiled brightly at the girl, who still looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky.

"Hi." The blonde watched you for a couple moments before she blinked herself out of her thoughts and gestured to the folded letterman jacket in your hand. "What's with this?"

"Oh, well, I borrowed it when I got slushied the other day, 'cause I didn't have any other clothes. Just tried to give it back."

"She letting you keep it as a souvenir?" she asked, referencing your participation on the field.

"Yeah." You nodded happily. "Also said that I might as well keep it now instead of getting it next year."

Quinn's eyes lit up in surprise. "You're on the team?"

"Apparently so. She said I was good, even though I had no clue what I was doing out there. It's strange, huh? I gain a uniform just as you give one up. How does that feel, by the way?"

She shrugged happily. "Weird. Did turn a couple heads."

"Well, I think it suits you," you spoke earnestly, glancing her up and down, taking in her dress, "Very 'nieve girl going to see church grandma', but still hot at the same time."

Playfully, the blonde shoved your shoulder, trying to push away the heat building upon her cheeks.

"I never got the chance to thank you." She looked down bashfully. "For helping me do the right thing."

"Ah, all you had to do was get out of this." A soft tap on her forehead. "I'm sure if we weren't on such a time crunch, you would have figured it out yourself in no time."

"I... I just have to say that you were amazing this week. On the field and off."

You gave a soft chuckle, "Yeah, it seems I'm just as good at tackling football players on the field as I am during fights."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Your dedication to your friends and how much you cared... it reminded me of why I fell for you."

"Wait..." Your head drew back, breath thinning out of shock of what Quinn had just confessed. "Y- You fell for me."

"Of course, I did." She shrugged as if it were obvious. "How could anyone not?"

"Quinn... I..."

As you stumbled over your words, trying to process the information that was thrust upon you, hardly noticing the blonde moving closer to you. Finally, snapping out of your stupor, by the feeling of her hands on your chest, travelling to wrap around your neck.

"Wait..."

Quinn hummed, nose nudging against yours. In the middle of the school hallways.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you said, with your hand on her hip, "You're- You're with Sam. And you're still not ready to come out, right?"

The girl sighed, nodding her head as she rubbed your cheekbone with her thumb. "You're right." She finished her sentence off by pressing a heavy kiss against your cheek, then left you alone in the hall, looking over her shoulder, shooting you a soft smile, before rounding the corner.

And you could only think one thing.

'Quinn Fabray loves me!'

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

#quinn fabray x reader #quinn fabray imagine #quinn fabray #original work #original fanfiction

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ducky-died-inside · 2 years

Text

August 17, 2022

Dear Diary,

I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think there's good in everyone, but here we are! First day of Sophomore year! And I look around at these kids I've known my entire life, and I ask myself, what happened?

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased. Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste. Then we got bigger, that was trigger, like the huns invading Rome. Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school, this is the thunderdome.

I hold my breath and count the days, winter break is comin' soon. Those weeks will be paradise, if I'm left in my room.

But I know, I know, we can be beautiful. I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we can change again. We can be beautiful.

Just not today.

#heathers the musical #heathers #heathers rewrite kind of #my first day of sophomore year

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steve-keychain · 2 years

Photo

chapter 13 - saint michael and the bathtub grave

Scalding water surrounds him, and though it’s almost painful in its sensation, Guillermo relaxes into the bubbles. The quiet burning that dances across his skin pulls focus from his frazzled thoughts. This is the big bathroom, with the pretty tile floor. It’s a Sunday morning, and Nandor just walked him through a panic attack. There’s a dead man back in Manhattan, but right now Guillermo is alive and so are his friends.

WELCOME BACK TO THE THUNDERDOME MY DUDES-HOPE YOU’VE GOT UR MEAT STRAPPED IN TIGHT FOR!!!! HASHTAG. TENDERNESS. In the ring we’ve got!!! anxiety, ReLIGIOUS THEMeS, fuckgkn???? ETHER COMMUNICATION. the sleepy bath gel from lush. AND OTHER THINGS THAT’LL MELT UR LASHES RIGHT OFF.

i hope u all enjoy this one. it was very healing to write (jokes this was so difficult it like lobotomized me but in a therapy way) and i’m very thankful for everyone being nice while i took my time with it!!! may the healing spells this here vampire fanfiction cast, fix all ye problems <3

#vh #OK HAVING A HEART ATTACK ITS UP BYE #LEAVING MY INTERNET CONNECTION FOR THE NEXT 7 HOURS

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imrainfully · 5 months

Text

(Beautiful -Heathers)

September 1st, 1989

Dear Diary: I believe I'm a good person

You know, I think there's good in everyone, but here we are first day of senior year

I look around at these kids I've known all my life and

I ask myself: What happened?

(Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-Eyes! Poser! Lard Ass!)

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased

(Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!)

Singing and clapping

Laughing and napping

Baking cookies, eating paste

(Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!)

Then we got bigger

That was the trigger

Like the Huns invading Rome

Sorry!

Welcome to my school

This ain't no high school

This is the Thunderdome

Hold your breath

And count the days

We're graduating soon

(White trash!)

College will be paradise

If I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray for a better way

If we changed back then

We could change again

We can be beautiful

Ow!

Just not today

Hey, are you okay?

Get away, nerd

(Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo!)

Things will get better

Soon as my letter

Comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown

Awake from this coma

Take my diploma

Then I can blow this town

Dream of ivy-covered walls

And smoky French cafes

(Watch it!)

Fight the urge to strike a match and send this dump ablaze!

Ooops

Ram Sweeney, third year as linebacker

And eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick!

What did you say to me skank?

Aaah, nothing!

But I know, I know, I know

Life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray

For a better way

We were kind before

We can be kind once more

We can be beautiful

Ah! Hey Martha

Hey

Martha Dumpstock

My best friend since diapers

Are we on for movie night?

Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail

I rented The Princess Bride

Hohoho, again? Wait, don't you have it memorized right now?

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending

Martha Dumptruck! Wide load!

Kurt Kelly, quarterback, he is the smartest guy on the football team

Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf

Hey! Pick that up right now!

I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?

Yes, I am, I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend?

You're a high school has-been waiting to happen, a future gas station attendant

You got a zit right there

Dear Diary

(Why~)

Why do they hate me?

Why don't I fight back?

Why do I act like such a creep?

(Why~)

Why won't he date me?

Why did I hit him?

Why do I cry myself to sleep?

(Why~!)

Students

Somebody hug me!

Somebody fix me!

Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God!

Give me some hope here!

Something to live for!

Ah! Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And then there's the Heathers, they float above it all

I love Heather, Heather, and Heather

Heather McNamara, head cheerleader, her dad is loaded, he sells engagement rings

I hate Heather, Heather, and Heather!

Heather Duke, runs the yearbook, no discernible personality

But her mom did pay for implants

I want Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And Heather Chandler, the almighty

She is a mythic bitch

They are solid Teflon

Never bothered, never harassed

I would give anything to be like that

I'd like to be their boyfriend

That would be beautiful

If I sat at their table, guys would notice me

So beautiful

I'd like them to be nicer

That would be beautiful

I'd like to kidnap a Heather and photograph her naked in an abandoned warehouse

And leave her tied up for the rats!

Grow up, Heather, bulimia is so '87

Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather

Yeah, Heather, maybe I should

Ah, Heather and Heather and Heather

Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting

You're late for class

Heather wasn't feeling well, we're helping her

Not without a hall pass you're not. Week's detention

Actually, Miss Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass

Yearbook committee

I see you're all listed

Hurry up and get where you're going

This is an excellent forgery

Who are you?

Veronica Sawyer

I crave a boon

What boon?

Hm, let me sit at your table at lunch

Just once

No talking necessary

If people think you guys tolerate me, they'll leave me alone

Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes

How about prescriptions?

Shut up, Heather

Sorry, Heather

For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure

And a symmetrical face

If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull I'd have matching halves

That's very important

Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds

And you know, you know, you know?

This could be beautiful

Mascara, maybe some lip gloss

And we're on our way

Get this girl some blush

And Heather, I need your brush

Let's make her beautiful

Make her beautiful

Okay?

Okay!

Out of my way geek!

I don't want trouble

You're gonna die at 3PM!

Don't you dare touch me! Get away, pervert!

What'd I ever do to them?

Who could survive this?

I can't escape this!

I think I'm dying!

Who's that with Heather?

Whoa. Heather, Heather, Heather

And someone!

Heather, Heather, Heather

And a babe!

Heather, Heather, Heather

Veronica?!

Veronica, Veronica, Veronica

And you know

You know, you know

Life can be beautiful

You hope, you dream, you pray

And you get your way!

Ask me how it feels

Looking like hell on wheels

My God, it's beautiful!

I might be beautiful

And when you're beautiful

It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica!

#heathers the musical

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irrelevaantidiot · 8 months

Note

[VERONICA:] September 1st, 1989 Dear Diary: I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year! And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—what happened?

[KIDS:] Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!

[VERONICA:] We were so tiny, happy and shiny Playing tag and getting chased

[KIDS:] Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!

[VERONICA:] Singing and clapping, laughing and napping Baking cookies, eating paste

[KIDS:] Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!

[VERONICA:] Then we got bigger, that was the trigger Like the Huns invading Rome

Oh, Sorry!

Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school: This is the Thunderdome

Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon

[KIDS:] White trash!

[VERONICA:] College will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful I pray, I pray for a better way If we changed back then, we could change again We can be beautiful...

[VERONICA:] Just not today

Hey, are you okay?

[HIPSTER DORK:] Get away, nerd

[VERONICA:] Oh, okay

[KIDS:] Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo!

[VERONICA:] Things will get better soon as my letter Comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown Wake from this coma, take my diploma Then I can blow this town

Dream of ivy-covered walls and smoky French cafés

[RAM:] Watch it!

[VERONICA:] Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze!

[RAM:] Oops

[VERONICA:] Ram Sweeney. Third year as linebacker and eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick

[RAM:] What did you say to me, skank?

[VERONICA:] Aah, nothing!

[VERONICA:] But I know, I know... [KIDS:] I know, I know... [VERONICA:] Life can be beautiful [KIDS:] Beautiful [VERONICA:] I pray, I pray [KIDS:] I pray, I pray [VERONICA:] For a better way [KIDS:] For a better way [VERONICA:] We were kind before; [KIDS:] Ooh... [VERONICA:] We can be kind once more [KIDS:] Ooh... [VERONICA:] We can be beautiful... [KIDS:] Ooh... Beautiful...

[VERONICA:] Ugh!... Hey Martha

[MARTHA:] Hey

[VERONICA:] Martha Dunnstock. My best friend since diapers

[MARTHA:] We on for movie night?

[VERONICA:] Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail

[MARTHA:] I rented "The Princess Bride."

[VERONICA:] Ho-ho-ho, again? Wait, don't you have it memorized by now?

[MARTHA:] What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending

[KURT:] Martha Dumptruck! Wide load! Honnnnnk!

[KURT:] Hahaaa!

[VERONICA:] Kurt Kelly. Quarterback. He is the smartest guy on the football team. Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf

[KURT:] Ha ha! Alright!

[VERONICA:] Hey! Pick that up! Right now!

[KURT:] I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?

[VERONICA:] Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future gas station attendant

[KURT:] ...You have a zit right there...

[VERONICA:] Dear diary:

Why...

[HIPSTER DORK:] Why do they hate me?

[REPUBLICAN GIRL:] Why don't I fight back?

[KURT:] Why do I act like such a creep?

[VERONICA:] Why...

[MARTHA:] Why won't he date me?

[RAM:] Why did I hit him?

[STONER CHICK, MS. FLEMING & BLOW-DRIED PREPPY:] Why do I cry myself to sleep?

[VERONICA:] Why...

[KIDS:] Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me!

[KIDS & VERONICA:] Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!

[KIDS:] Ah! Heather, Heather, and Heather!

[VERONICA:] And then there's the Heathers. They float above it all

[KIDS:] I love Heather, Heather, and Heather

[KIDS:] I hate Heather, Heather, and Heather

[VERONICA:] Heather McNamara, head cheerleader. Her dad is loaded—he sells engagement rings

[KIDS:] I want Heather, Heather, and Heather [VERONICA:] Heather Duke, runs the yearbook. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants

[KIDS:] I need Heather, Heather, and Heather

[VERONICA:] And Heather Chandler, the Almighty She is a mythic bitch

[VERONICA:] They're solid Teflon—never bothered, never harassed I would give anything to be like that

[KIDS:] Mm...

[HIPSTER DORK:] I'd like to be their boyfriend

[KIDS:] That would be beautiful... Mm...

[STONER CHICK:] If I sat at their table, guys would notice me

[KIDS:] So beautiful... Ooh...

[MARTHA:] I'd like them to be nicer

[KIDS:] That would be beautiful... Ooh...

[BELEAGUERED GEEK:] I'd like to kidnap a Heather and photograph her naked in an abandoned warehouse and leave her tied up for the rats

[HEATHER CHANDLER:] Grow up, Heather. Bulimia is so '87.

[HEATHER MCNAMARA:] Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather

[HEATHER DUKE:] Yeah, Heather. Maybe I should

[MS. FLEMING:] Ah, Heather and Heather

...and Heather. Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting. You're late for class

[HEATHER CHANDLER:] Heather wasn't feeling well. We're helping her

[MS. FLEMING:] Not without a hall pass, you're not. Week's detention

[VERONICA:] Um, actually, Ms. Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass. Yearbook committee

[MS. FLEMING:] ...I see you're all listed. Hurry up and get where you're going

[HEATHER CHANDLER:] This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?

[VERONICA:] Uh... Veronica Sawyer. I crave a boon

[HEATHER CHANDLER:] What boon?

[VERONICA:] Um. Let me sit at your table, at lunch. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they'll leave me alone...

Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes

[HEATHER DUKE:] How about prescriptions?

[HEATHER CHANDLER:] Shut up, Heather

[HEATHER DUKE:] Sorry, Heather

[HEATHER CHANDLER:] For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure

[HEATHER MCNAMARA:] And a symmetrical face. If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I'd have matching halves. That's very important

[HEATHER DUKE:] Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds

[HEATHER CHANDLER:] And ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful Mascara, maybe some lip gloss And we're on our way Get this girl some blush; And Heather, I need your brush Let's make her beautiful

[HEATHER MCNAMARA:] Let's make her beautiful...

[HEATHER DUKE:] Let's make her beautiful...

[HEATHER CHANDLER:] Make her beautiful...

Okay?

[VERONICA:] Okay!

[KURT:] Out of my way, geek!

[BELEAGUERED GEEK:] I don't want trouble..

[RAM:] You're gonna die at 3 pm!

[REPUBLICANETTE & NEW WAVE GIRL:] Don't you dare touch me! Get away, pervert!

[BELEAGUERED GEEK:] What did I ever do to them?

[KIDS:] Who could survive this? I can't escape this! I think I'm dying!

[MS. FLEMING:] Who's that with Heather?

[KIDS:] Whoa

Heather, Heather, Heather...

[NEW WAVE GIRL:] And someone!

[KIDS:] Heather, Heather, Heather...

[GOWAN & COACH:] And a babe!

[KIDS:] Heather, Heather, Heather...

[MARTHA:] Veronica?!

[KIDS:] Veronica? Veronica? Veronica?!

[VERONICA:] And you know, you know, you know Life can be beautiful ([KIDS:] Ah! Beautiful!) You hope, you dream, you pray And you get your way! Ask me how it feels ([KIDS:] Beautiful!) Lookin' like hell on wheels... My God, it's beautiful! ([KIDS:] Ah! Beautiful!) I might be beautiful... ([KIDS:] Beautiful!) And when you're beautiful... [VERONICA:] It's a beautiful frickin' day!

[KIDS:] Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica! Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica!

i'm surprised i haven't exceded the character limit yet

ima stroke

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chloerie · 8 months

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Happy Heathers day y'all, heres Beautiful's lyrics

VERONICA: [Spoken] September 1st, 1989. Dear Diary: I believe I'm a good person. Ya know, I think there's good in everyone, but here we are first day of senior year. I look around at all these kids I've known all my life and I ask myself: What happened?

KIDS: Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-Eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!

VERONICA: We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased.

KIDS: Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!

VERONICA: Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste.

KIDS: Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!

VERONICA: Then we got bigger. That was the trigger, Like the Huns invading Rome -

[Spoken] Sorry!

Welcome to my school, This ain't no high school: This is the Thunderdome. Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon.

KIDS: White trash!

VERONICA: College will be paradise If I'm not dead by June! But I know, I know, life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again. We can be beautiful...

(A PREPPY STUD knocks a HIPSTER DORK to the floor.)

HIPSTER DORK: [Spoken.] Ow!

VERONICA: Just not today. [Spoken.] Hey, are you okay?

HIPSTER DORK: Get away, nerd.

KIDS: Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo!

VERONICA: Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown. Wake from this coma, take my diploma, then I can blow this town. Dream of my ivy-covered walls and smoky French cafes...

(VERONICA jostles RAM SWEENEY.)

RAM: [Spoken.] Watch it!

VERONICA: Fight the urge to strike a match and send this dump ablaze!

(RAM upends VERONICA'S lunch tray.)

RAM: Ooooops.

VERONICA: [Spoken.] Ram Sweeney. Third year as linebacker. And eighth year of smacking lunch trays and BEING A HUGE DICK.

RAM: What did you say to me skank?

VERONICA: ... Nothing.

VERONICA & KIDS: But I know, I know, I know... Life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray, I pray For a better way. We were kind before; we can be kind once more. We can be beautiful...

(MARTHA approaches.)

VERONICA: Agh!... Hey Martha.

MARTHA: Hey.

(MARTHA helps VERONICA pick up her tray.)

VERONICA: Martha Dunnstock. My best friend since diapers.

MARTHA: We on for movie night?

VERONICA: Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail.

MARTHA: I rented "The Princess Bride."

VERONICA: Again? Don't you have it memorized by now?

MARTHA: What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending.

KURT: Martha Dumptruck! Wide load! Honnnnnk!

(KURT KELLY knocks the tray from MARTHA'S hands.)

VERONICA: Kurt Kelly. Quarterback. He is the smartest guy on the football team. Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf. (Furious, to KURT) Hey! Pick that up right now!

KURT: I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?

VERONICA: Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend? You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future gas station attendant.

KURT: ... You have a zit right there.

VERONICA & KIDS: (Variously) Dear Diary: Why do they hate me? Why don't I fight back? Why do I act like such a creep? Why won't he date me? Why did I hit him? Why do I cry myself to sleep? Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me! Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope here! Something to live for!

(The three HEATHERS enter.)

KIDS: Ah!... Heather, Heather, and Heather!

VERONICA: [Spoken.] Then there's the Heathers. They float above it all.

KIDS: (Repeating.) I love Heather, Heather, and Heather.

VERONICA: Heather McNamara. Head cheerleader. Her dad's loaded - he sells engagement rings.

KIDS: I hate Heather, Heather, and Heather!

VERONICA: Heather Duke. Runs the yearbook. Bo discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants.

KIDS: I want Heather, Heather, and Heather!

VERONICA: And Heather Chandler. The Almighty.

KIDS: I need Heather, Heather, and Heather...

VERONICA: She is a mythic bitch. They are solid Teflon - never bothered, never harassed. I would give anything to be like that.

HIPSTER DORK: I'd like to be their boyfriend.

KIDS: That would be beautiful...

STONER CHICK: If I sat at their table, guys would notice me.

KIDS: So beautiful...

MARTHA: I'd like them to be nicer.

KIDS: That would be beautiful...

BELEAGUERED GEEK: I'd like to kidnap a Heather and photograph her naked in an abandoned warehouse and leaver her tied up for the rats!

(VERONICA enters the girls' bathroom. HEATHER CHANDLER and MCNAMARA are watching HEATHER DUKE vomit into a toilet.)

HEATHER CHANDLER: Grow up, Heather. Bulimia is so '87.

HEATHER MCNAMARA: Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather.

HEATHER DUKE: Yeah, Heather. Maybe I should.

MS. FLEMING: Ah, Heather and Heather. (HEATHER DUKE vomits.) ... and Heather. Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting. You're late for class.

(VERONICA scribbles on a piece of paper.)

HEATHER CHANDLER: Heather wasn't feeling well. We're helping her.

MS. FLEMING: Not without a hall pass you're not. A week's detention.

VERONICA: Actually, Ms. Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass. Yearbook committee.

MS. FLEMING: ... I see you're all listed. Hurry up and get where you're going.

HEATHER CHANDLER: This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?

VERONICA: Veronica Sawyer. I crave a boon.

HEATHER CHANDLER: What boon?

VERONICA: Let me sit at your table at lunch. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think you guys tolerate me, they'll leave me alone.... Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes.

HEATHER DUKE: How about prescriptions?

HEATHER CHANDLER: Shut up, Heather.

HEATHER DUKE: Sorry, Heather.

(HEATHER CHANDLER inspects VERONICA'S face.)

HEATHER CHANDLER: For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure.

HEATHER MCNAMARA: And a symmetrical face. If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I'd have matching halves. That's very important.

HEATHER DUKE: Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds.

HEATHER CHANDLER: And ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful. Mascara, maybe some lip gloss, and we're on our way. Get this girl some blush; And Heather, I need your brush. Let's make her beautiful.

HEATHER MCNAMARA: Let's make her beautiful...

HEATHER DUKE: Let's make her beautiful...

HEATHER CHANDLER: Make her beautiful... Okay?

VERONICA: Okay!

(Another day, another hellish lunch.)

KURT: Out of my way geek!

BELEAGUERED GEEK: I don't want any trouble -

RAM: You're gonna die at 3pm!

REPUBLICANETTE & NEW WAVE GIRL: Don't you dare touch me! Get away, pervert!

BELEAGUERED GEEK: What'd I ever do to them?

KIDS: Who could survive this? I can't escape this! I think I'm dying!

MS. FLEMING: Who's that with Heather?

(THE HEATHERS enter again...)

KIDS: Whoa. Heather, Heather, Heather...

NEW WAVE GIRL: And... someone!

KIDS: Heather, Heather, Heather...

GOWAN & COACH: And a babe!

KIDS: Heather, Heather, Heather...

MARTHA: Veronica?!

KIDS: Veronica? Veronica? Veronica?!

(THE HEATHER part, revealing a smoking hot VERONICA who has been given a make-over.)

VERONICA & KIDS: (Variously.) And ya know, ya know, ya know life can be beautiful. You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! Ask me how it feels looking like hell on wheels... My God, it's beautiful! And when you're beautiful... It's a beautiful frickin' day!

KIDS: Heather... Veronica! Heather! Heather! Heather... Veronica!

VERONICA: Veronica! Veronica!

KIDS: Veronica! Veronica!

Source: https://www.allmusicals.com/lyrics/heathers/beautiful.htm

#happy heathers day

0 notes

beskarthots · 2 years

Text

Welcome back to the horny thunderdome bitches, Monster!Din is living in my head rent free and I'm craving some feral Din. So what would happen if a bounty got wise to take advantage of his monster side?

18+ let's go baby.

As always a big thank you to @tuskens-mando to creating Monster!Din and being my co-conspirator. Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @loser6000

A/N: I rushed this a bit due to the holidays so apologies in advance, not truly beta read or anything so I hope y'all enjoy. 🙏🏼

Socorro wasn't much after the wars, a hot arid planet now overran mostly with smugglers. The few cities left home to techies and odd ship modification ports, exporting what little nether ice and jobs while importing technology and metals. All illegal of course. Surrounded by the Doaba Badlands of volcanic ash, black desert swells and mountains, it made for the almost perfect planet for a bounty to seek refuge, if they could get out of the city.

Only Din had been there many times before, it made for a great refueling point when on the run from the Empire. Vakeyya wasn't a large city by any means either, the only concern was the bounty getting on a ship out of the city. The days were shorter, and darker without any moons to help illuminate the planet, it was easy to blend in with the shadows. He had only been gone a few hours but night fell fast, you had no doubt put Grogu to sleep and were hopefully resting as well. The thought painted a small smile across his features behind the helmet, warmth in his chest picturing the sight.

The trail he had picked up just outside the landing ports led towards what looked to be a outdoor plaza, his helmet beginning to pick up a small crowd of voices. No doubt coming from the one plaza in the city center, speeders lined the small street, showing the way to a bar in the heart of it all.

Too predictable.

Din thought, the bio tracker on his waist had begun beeping. Turning off his helmets tracker, he kept his pace steady. With each step the voices grew louder, sounds of music and cheering filled the air. The open walled area had tables lined with smiling and drunken patrons, ascending the stairs to the pavilion he scanned over the faces in the crowd. Sure enough his target is too preoccupied telling stories to notice the hunter enter, noting the the blasters adorning his friends hips as he went.

Many people filled the lively pavilion, types from all over the sector finding refuge and the odd job in a lawless land as such. Din didn't miss the gazes that his shiny armor attracted, eyes followed his form as he began his way into the crowd. Carefully sliding through drunken patrons, no one paid too much mind to the hunter as he snuck past the bar.

Drop the three friends where they stand, disarm the target. A clean take down.

Placing his hand in his blaster, Din skirts the edges of the crowd. Slowly and deliberately making his way around, he slid through groups of people never losing sight of the bounty. Most paid no mind, too enthralled with each other or booze to take notice. Slinking around the final corner he picked up his pace,

"Bounty Hunter!" Shit

All music came to a stop.

Then everyone scattered.

Din pushed his way through the mass rush blaster fire filling the air as he charged, pulling his blaster out he saw the bounty up ahead caught in the chaos. As he broke through the last couple people, the lackeys shots ricocheting off his chest plates. Returning fire he moved taking then down, turning to the bounty, a shot rang out, Din felt the stab in the shoulder. Aiming as he looked, the bounty dropped his gun in fear as he ran from the pavilion. Giving chase Din pulled the dart from between his breastplate and pauldron its pink body a dead giveaway, pocketing it he continued after breaking down dark streets and even darker alleys.

Even with a head start it should easy to follow the target through the city, but the abnormal race of his heart beat quickly took hold. Body attempting to fight the toxins made it only flow more as he pushed himself, using anger to fuel his drive to go faster. He could feel the ache deep in his muscles as his body gained more strength expanding to his bones.

Soon Din felt the hot lava start running through his veins into his muscles, blood feeling as if it was bubbling and boiling every step making his heart pound harder as every fiber of his body seemed to catch fire. It didn't take long for him to be on the bounties heels, with one easy swipe he sent the man into a wall. Chunks of concrete falling onto his back as he hit the ground gasping for air, the next second snatched from the ground getting pinned by the neck.

Waves of frustration and arousal rolled through Dins body, tremors wracking his shoulders as instincts went into overdrive. His natural form pushing at the surface, rapidly giving way to anger his hand squeezed tighter, he could kill the bastard with ease.

Weak kicks to the torso encouraged Din only to restrict breathing more, every ounce of his being was wanting to shift right then tearing the sorry sack of bantha shit limb from limb, it felt almost natural, the sharp cracking pain in his shoulders and chest pressing against his beskar cage-

Din groaned out as another wave of liquid fire spread across every nerve making his head drop, his other fist leaving dust and more chunks of concrete clattering to the ground, trying to stop his body on the cusp of transformation. It took everything in Din to not end him right there. More bones shifted with a sickening crunch sending him to his hands and knees, the lifeless bounties body falling beside him. Mind caught in between man and predator, instincts flooding every sense he has, the fire reaching his member only forced his carnal desires to bubble to the forefront of his mind.

Thoughts and images of you flooded his psyche, the sweet sounds that only he can draw out in the darkness of his ship. Soft fragile skin he would mark as his for the entire galaxy to see, Din wanted to claim you in everyway possible, fill you over and over again with his seed until it takes. The thought of you round with his child sent him spiraling, hissing in pain as the bones in his hands snap tearing through his leather gloves leaving them in shreds.

Sharp agony sobering, in Dins weak resolve the only thing he knew was he was a danger to anyone in the vicinity, he had to get back to the Razor Crest before he's too far gone and make sure you're safely locked away from him. Forcing himself up with a grunt he looked to the bounty, blank expression etched on his face.

Fuck.

Vision blurring and sharpening disorienting the bodies image, taught muscles seizing and twitching in more strain to keep composure, shaking his head Din stumbles back as the seams of his flight suit began to tear. Falling against the opposite wall shudders wracked through his body, chest heaving with each breath, the armor was getting hard to breathe in, he need to go.

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

The sound of the ramp lowering followed by its gentle shake woke you up, Din had finally made it back. Standing from the passenger chair you fixed his shirt on your body letting it fall down your thighs, you give a stretch looking at Grogus pod making sure the little womp rat was still asleep. Much to your delight soft snores poured from the cradle, he was much cuter when he wasn't causing trouble cause dad is gone. The sound of a loud bang below startled you, sealing him away you quickly made your way and slid down the ladder only to be greeted with the massive trembling sight of Din. His body seemingly at war with his mind.

"Din, are you okay?" You ask worriedly, you began to close the gap. You knew it took a lot to get Din this worked up, his self control unparalleled to anyone you've seen. The lack of response made knots form in your stomach, "Din?" You moved slowly towards him, you could see the dent his fist left in the ramp, his head and body propped against it for support. Ice filled your veins.

"Cyar'ika, you need to go back up and lock the doors," Dins voice was the embodiment of sin, more of a dark growl. The emphasis on go made you pause, normally he would come straight into your arms to calm down, why isn't he facing you? What the hell happened-

"Now!" He boomed, loud enough it made you jump. Din never raised his voice to you like that, something had to be seriously wrong and you would be damned if he wouldn't let you help.

"No! Not until you tell me what the hell is going on!" Immediately closing the rest of the distance between you, placing your hands on his torso you could feel his flight suit tearing. He let you spin him around to face you, the moment your hands went to travel his torso and find his wound Dins hand gripped yours pinning them pulling you close. You could feel his muscles rippling in strain with every tremor, looking up at him in confusion you felt something enter your hand.

A pink dart filled your palm, the size easily proved whatever inside was meant to be a lethal dose. You didn't have much experience on toxic darts, fear filled your body tying knots in your stomach, you knew he must be in agony at this point. Before you could turn back, the sounds of bones snapping made you toss the dart attempting to grab Din as he slid down the wall groaning.

"It's a aphrodisiac concentrate, I- I can't control myself- your scent-" human voice straining against the darker as he spoke.

Gripping his shoulders you began pulling off his pauldrons, knowing the dart. Only he wouldn't let you, he pushed you away as gently as he could, with a slight stumble you shot Din a glare, "Dank farrik, I'm not gonna leave you!" heat rushing to your cheeks from frustration.

"No! You need to run." With the final word human Din was gone. You scent filling the interior of his helmet at this proximity, intoxicating him as the crave of you overwhelms every natural instinct inside of his body.

Helmet crashed backwards against the wall, the sickening crunch and snap of bones reforming filled the hull, Din began ripping the beskar plates from his body sending them flying throughout the room. Frozen in place you watched as he struggled to stand as his body transformed, blood droplets splattered on the wall as his wings rose over his shoulders, claws sharp and deadly, he slams a fist into the control panel to balance, obsidian eyes staring directly into your soul as darkness plunges around you.

Dins deep roar reverberated through your chest, making a break across the hull to the ladder as fast as you could. Every part of your body was screaming to run, only you wanted to help him. It didn't help that the very thought of fucking him in his natural form always sent warmth pooling in your core,

"Din?"

Heavy footsteps made their steady way closer, every hair on your neck stood up, you were now the prey. Alarm bells sounded in your mind, but you wouldn't budge. You had made your mind up to help him. The footsteps stopped right in front of you, looking up to where hopefully Dins face was his claw gently gripped your jaw.

"Let me make you feel good, Cyar'ika." The human Din was gone, replaced by the unfiltered predators voice. Chills rolled down your body, heart racing as adrenaline kicked in. You knew he could see you with ease in the dark, every sense for him is heightened in this form. You gave a nod in response, his grip tightened momentary before his other arm wrapped itself around your lower back. One second he pulled you close-

The next your back met the blanketed floor, Din quickly tore away his shirt that covered your top, panties following almost at the same time. He had your legs pinned open, the lack of vision added to your suspense. His hot tongue licking a slow stripe up your slit, a guttural groan escaped Dins throat. The sound of it made you clench, claws gripped your hips- locking you in as he began giving slow swirls to your clit. You let your head fall back, a soft moan music to his ears.

Placing your hands in his hair, letting your fingers tug his curls lightly just behind his horns. Which recieved tightening of his grip as he guided your hips in a grind against his face. Slick ran down your thighs as Din continued to eat you out, roll over your clit causing you to cry out. You could feel every nerve on your body set alight, allowing him to hear every bit of pleasure he drew from you. Fingers pulling tufts of hair seemed to only encourage him to move his tongue faster, before you could brace yourself the familiar knot rapidly started forming in your core.

Your thighs tightened around his head, muscles locking as your vision went white. An obscene moan escaped your lips as you could feel your cunt gush. Din happily drank every drop you gave him, slowing his ministrations. Before you could fully recover however, two thick fingers dragged up your slit gathering the mix of slick and spit before slowly stretching you open. Fingers worked themselves inside, expertly curling against that spot inside you making your toes curl. Just as his tongue returned to your overstimulated bud, your own fingers tightened in his hair. Pulling to earn reprieve from his mouth, only made him chuckle.

"I need you ready before I fill this pretty pussy, Cyar'ika."

Dins deep voice vibrated against your cunt, it sent chills down your spine. Without missing a beat, fingers pumped in and out as his tongue returned to your clit making you whine at the sensation. Once he felt you grinding more on his fingers, he slowed his circles around your clit, gradually speeding up he placed a third finger inside you.

You knew this was only the beginning.

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

Body sensitive from Din indulging himself in your sweet cunt for what felt like hours. Drawing orgasm after orgasm with his fingers and mouth until you were begging for his cock. He curled his fingers one last time inside you before pulling them out, you heard the wet pop from his lips followed by a pleased groan.

You could hear him shifting in the dark, grip on your hips disappearing before hips parted your thighs more. Being larger in his natural form you felt dwarfed, the heaviness of his ridged member pressed against your cunt. Dins muscular arm placed itself against your lower back, hand reaching up and pulling you against his chest. Burying his face into the crook of your neck as his hips grind each ridge against your clit.

Needy open mouthed kisses turned to love bites marking your neck as his free claw trailed over your hip before a tight grip kept your hips tightly against him as he kept rutting through your folds, slick dampening the blankets underneath you. Every ridge against your swollen bud made you whimper, the sensitivity overwhelming as your body found no escape from the pleasure. Leathery wings wrapped themselves around you, hand on your shoulder tilting your torso back as Din arched your hips. Slowly pressing the tip of his cock into your quivering pussy.

Each ridge stretching you, each dull peak added a sting as he slowly pressed in inch by inch as he thrusts, Dins claw tightly held your hips down making it easy for him to keep working in deeper. Red scratches littered from your hips to your thighs, the evident trails leading to where his thumb was now starting to roll the sensitive bud between your thighs. His grip barely offered escape from the overwhelming stimulation, you could feel his hot pant start against your neck.

You knew Din was holding back, even when he couldn't control himself he couldn't hurt you. He could crush you with one claw, yet he held you close without injury. Slowly working his way into you to not harm you even though every instinct is on go. Each time greeted with the onyx eyes that you loved so much, sharp teeth showing in a small smile as he took care of you.

Once he was halfway inside, the stinging subsided to pure pleasure. Your hips squirming to accommodate him all drew a breathy moan from Din, his hips giving slow shallow thrusts against that one spot that made you see stars. Locking your legs around his hips you wrapped your arms around his neck, you rose your hips to meet his thrusts, a wider ridge pressed into your tight cunt as he sped up.

Dins cock rippled against your G-spot with each thrust, your nails dug into his shoulders. Each ridge and dip inside had you arching as they made you see stars, his head pushing upwards inside of you as he barely could hold back. You knew he had mentally transformed too now, grunts turned into growls as he held you tight to him. Your body couldn't take much more as another knot formed deep in your stomach, building on itself with each thrust and swipe of thumb.

Electricity crackled across your body sending goosebumps everywhere. Din didn't stop his movements, the oversensitivity made your hips buck giving a new angle. Claws locking your hips into his, no more than one ridge press your entrance as he went inhumanly fast. The pace took the air from you, your nails dragging down his neck earned a growl from him. Your orgasm tore through your body, shattering every fiber of your being. Stars filled your vision as you gave a cry, his lips and sharp teeth returned to your neck Dins soft grunts filling your ears.

You couldn't stop coming, tears fell down your face. Body twitching trying to get relief only seemed to tighten your lovers hold, as you felt another ridge enter you. The waves the pleasure kept washing over you, pussy convulsing with each drag and stretch as the ridges pressed against massaging the sensitive spot inside. His pace slowly becoming more brutal, his thumb kept rolling your clit in circles, increasing pressure on it as his hips snap into your own.

Dins thrusts started getting sloppy, the shifting drag inside you too much as he gave a few more harsh thrusts you felt each ridge and dip pulsate inside you, Din grinded his hips into yours pushing himself as deep as he could, his hot cum painting your cunt as he let out almost a roar. Claws tightening you against his body, he gave slow strokes riding his own high out. You stilled for a few moments, heavy panting the only sound as the heavy drag of his cock inside your cunt.

"I'm gonna fill you up and breed this sweet cunt,"

The bass in Dins voice reverberated in your chest into your core, arms wrapping around your hips he laid you back. Blankets met your shoulders but the way he had your hips arched allowed him to thrust into something devastating inside deep inside you. All your body could do was take what he gave you, the thought of him knocking you up made you clench around him-

"Mate you and keep you round with our warriors."

Dins thumb had begun slowly yet harshly rubbing circles around your clit again, letting it roll beneath the rough pad with every thrust. Your body ragdolling in the bliss, he was wringing you dry of every ounce of pleasure your body gave him. His sharp teeth scraping at your neck, your insides molded to his size as he kept splitting farther and farther open.

Ecstasy consumed every inch of your body and mind, Dins hips snapping into yours. Everything blended together, a nonstop blend of bliss that consumed every sense. Whimpers and moans filled the dark space, an oh so familiar knot built inside you. Obscenities fell from his lips, promises of keeping you right here until his seed takes punctuated with sharp bites. Thrusts became harder and slower, you felt like you could explode from how much he filled you.

The thickness had you mewling, sensitive walls stretched around each ridge as your bullet train release tore through your body. Din pushed in deeper, your walls milking him as he came hard against your cervix hissing as he locked your hips down. You could feel some leak out as he rode out both your highs slowly, never pulling all the way out. Arms releasing your hips, his grip returned as gravity spun placing him from behind. Your body burned with desire, feeling almost insatiable as Din was.

Dins body quickly covered your own, running his member through your folds a couple times before plunging himself back deep inside you. The sudden intrusion tearing a scream from your throat, stinging framing the pleasure as his hips began thrusting. He wanted to stake claim every inch of your body, become entirely one with you. His primal urges consuming every corner of his consciousness, the thought of binding himself to you sent his instincts spiraling into overdrive.

Frenzied thrusts met your hips as overwhelming pleasure filled your being, the new angle taking the air out of you. Din trailed kisses up your spine, losing himself in the sensation of you as the last of his thoughts melted away into the bliss. You could feel another orgasm building inside, his fingers traced the edge of your clit it adding pressure slowly.

You choked out a moan as your body caught fire, pleasure exploded throughout your body, limbs falling heavy with exhaustion. Barely registering Dins teeth breaking skin unable to fight the impulse, a pleased sound came from his throat as his tongue lapped at the warm liquid. His grip tightened at the taste of sweet metallic, everything else melting away as new and old instincts seared themselves permanently into his mind.

Pushing as deep as your cunt would let him he came hard, your own body achy yet yearning still. A claw reached up locking his hand in yours, holding tightly as he slowly dragged each ridge out until only his tip filled your entrance. Din was reeling in his mind, whole world shattered and reframed with you at the center in a moment. Having you this close was all that mattered, separating from you felt like a sin, he should feel guilty for marking himself to you but it felt natural.

He craves you.

It's all he can think about, fully sheathing himself back inside you Din starts giving powerful short thrusts. His free arm wrapped around your stomach, pulling your back tightly to his chest. You gasped at the sudden stretch, moans following as he found his pace- but it wasn't enough as he sped up.

Thoughts melting away with the feeling of your tight walls around him, all he knew now was to please you.

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

Gentle touches broke your sleep, brushes on your thighs and stomach were comforting to tender skin. You're greeted with the sight of Din spraying Bacta on your skin, offering a smile he didn't return. You reach out grabbing his forearm, the hot tan skin meeting your fingertips you pulled him closer.

"Din?"

He didn't answer, only continuing to coat your skin with soft touches. Looking down you saw half healed bruises lining your thighs and hips, scratches down your hips to in-between your legs. Memories of him desperately dragging every bit of pleasure out of you that he could while caught in his sate. It confused you- hadn't he been the one who needed release?

"Din? Look at me," You spoke softly, the brown eyes you loved most in the galaxy finally met yours. You gave him another smile, "I'm okay." Trying to reassure him you sat up leaving kisses trailing across his chest, the sadness in his eyes melted away your smile returned. Leaning back you inspected your body, most bruises were halfway healed already while the leftover scratches became more opaque.

You didn't miss the way Dins eyes darkened as they caught sight of your neck, black seeping into the edges of white as the muscles in his chest ripple in strain. You lifted your hand to your shoulder, running your fingers over the tender flesh as you're met with four raised bumps at the crook of your neck. Eyes widening you give him a confused look, you don't even remember him biting you. Why would he-

"What happened?" You question, you remember Din saying it was a serious thing but never elaborated. When in the throws of last night did he? Was he regretting whatever it meant?

"I marked you," His tone flat, as if it was a simple fact. He sprayed some of the Bacta on his fingers before sitting down beside you, moving your hand away from your neck before spreading the cool gel over the mark to soothe it.

"What does that mean?" You watched his face, seemingly content with his work as gentle fingers gave little pressure to the area. Black eyes met your gaze before fading to brown again, softening in understanding.

"When my species mate for life, we bite our partner. Of course the other will bleed but, just like other heightened senses... blood contains the genetic imprint of the other, our bodies encode it deep in our basic instinct to protect and be with that partner."

You gave a nod, repeating it all in your head again. Seconds later the weight of it to crash down, he was bound to only you now? 'Mate for life' no wonder his eyes went black at the sight his fresh mark.

"How do you feel?" You asked, still confused though the exhaustion of last night didn't help your reeling mind. Your question being met with silence however was concerning, never breaking eye contact it was like he was frozen in time.

"Like I should've done it sooner." Din deadpanned, you giggled at his honesty. Reaching out for him he let you pull him down under you, laying atop him resting your head on his chest. "You should get more rest, I know you're tired." His voice softened to a loving tone.

"That's a neat trick, you got grogus powers now?" You joked closing your eyes, he was right. You had no idea how long you slept for but it was not enough.

"Maybe." Din chuckled, the sound made you smile yourself. He pulled a blanket up and over you both, other arm reaching out and pressing a button on his vambrence returning the hull to darkness as the vibration of a tired groan flowed through his chest. Only you were still confused on what all him marking you meant, what does he mean encode in instinct? What is that like?

"Din?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you mean by-"

"Cyar'ika, I'll tell you everything later."

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

#din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #pedro pascal #din djarin imagine #b's corner #bitches i got it done #the holidays hit quick and i couldnt finish this thing fast enough #din djarin x reader

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alirhi · 3 years

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okay. let's do this shit.

Guess what, bitches? Mama bear's back and angry all over again. Remember when I said I might dive into a ragepost about how Bucky's treated after completing the one about Loki? This is it. This is the post. Welcome to fucking Thunderdome.

I will actually try to keep it civil. No promises, but I'll try. and I will not be accepting "constructive criticism" about my rage. Just so we're clear.

Got it? Good. Let's dive in.

In case you don't want to read the whole thing (I know I get wordy) here's what this whole post will boil down to: BUCKY NEVER HAD A FUCKING CHOICE. NEVER. NOT ONCE IN HIS ENTIRE ADULT LIFE.

Now, quick reminder: I don't read comics. I know nothing about Bucky's comic canon, except what Sebastian liked to bring up as often as possible during TWS/CW promotions: at some point, Bucky boned Nat. XD Since Bucky only exists as a Marvel property, I won't be bitching about other source material being disrespected like I did with Loki. This is all MCU, my dudes. And honestly? That's enough, because though we don't see nearly enough of Bucky for my liking, we do manage to get a rich, deep backstory to him in the material we're given, partly thanks to better writing in the early days of the MCU, and partly thanks to Sebastian Stan's phenomenal acting. Unlike the writers of the Loki series, Seb knows how to show, not tell. And gods, what stories those eyes show...

Let's start with the army. In an old post illustrating what an absolute BAMF Bucky Barnes truly is, I mistakenly said he enlisted, and a kind soul educated me on the incredible attention to detail Marvel used to pay - in this case, Bucky's ID number. 32557038. As this kind, eagle-eyed soul pointed out to me, the first two digits of that number - 32 - signify that Bucky was drafted, specifically from the NY, NJ, DE area (that last part is rather obvious, as Bucky and Steve are from Brooklyn lol). Bucky didn't choose to go to war. He was drafted. He was forced to fight, or go to prison.

Bucky was born in 1917, which means - again, as someone pointed out to me a while back - he came of age during the Great Depression. As a child, he would likely have seen his parents living comfortably and able to shower each other and him and his sister with gifts and fun memories, and then POOF. Stock market crashes when he's only 12-years-old, and life becomes brutal and painful. He manages to have some fun with his best friend Steve, and spends his teens/early 20s chasing girls and keeping his stupid, stubborn, tiny friend from getting beaten to death.

Steve constantly has something to prove. He's absolutely got what my mom always called "little man's disease", and Bucky's just doing his best not to roll his eyes too much at this asthmatic chihuahua constantly trying to beat up Tibetan mastiffs. While Steve keeps lying on his enlistment forms (an actual crime) trying again and again to get into the army and prove what a badass he is (definitely not), Bucky's had enough trauma and upheaval in his life and he just wants his stupid friend to calm tf down and live. Enjoy the fact that he doesn't have to go to war and get his limbs blown off.

And then he gets fucking drafted. This sweet, resigned realist who knows exactly how dangerous the war really is, is forced to put on a uniform and go fight strangers alongside other strangers thousands of miles from everything he knows. And on his last night of freedom, when he just wants to hang out with his friend, see some cool gadgets, and dance with a pretty girl, his stupid angry chihuahua friend feels the need to lie and try to enlist again.

Okay. Gotta get back on track. Ragepost about mistreatment of Bucky, not how much Steve annoys me. Sorry. Anyway...

Bucky's drafted, accepts his shitty lot with a brave smile, and is shipped off to Europe, where he is captured by HYDRA and presumed by the Allies to be KIA. Instead, he's strapped down, tortured, and given the HYDRA version of the super serum against his will. Steve rescues him, and Bucky knows he can't leave his idiot friend to his own devices to get his head blown off, so he dives right back into the fray. And then he falls off a cliff, loses most of his left arm, and is declared dead...again. This one's pretty damn valid, though lol. Without the serum no one knew he'd been shot up with, there is no way he would have survived that fall.

Here is where Bucky's story gets truly heartbreaking: His autonomy, his ability to consent is stripped from him through electroshock torture/brainwashing. The trigger words are conditioned into him during this process, and boom. Ten words in Russian, and Bucky Barnes is gone. Even the confused, hurting shadow of him is gone, leaving only a perfectly obedient killing machine, with Bucky's pretty face. He's strong as all hell, though, so they can't keep him fully under their control for long, not without more torture, when the disorientation of being fucking frozen wears off on longer missions.

I cannot stress this point enough, guys: Bucky. Had. No. Choice. Not like the draft, where his choices (go and get shot at, refuse and go to jail, or dodge and run to Canada) just suck. No, he literally didn't have a choice. He had his ability to choose stripped from him. If that's too complex a concept to really sink in, try this: His brain was fucking raped. Repeatedly. For decades. Nothing the Winter Soldier ever did was Bucky's fault. Nothing. Ever. Not remotely, no matter how you fucking slice it. Bucky is not an assassin. I almost said "not a killer", but he was a soldier, and a sharpshooter. He definitely killed when he was himself, but that was in a war, not a series of assassinations.

So far, imo, so good. This is just a rundown of Bucky's pre-show backstory. I don't love what he had to suffer, but I do love how it was treated in the movies. People were afraid of him, but when they knew the whole situation, Steve, Nat, and Sam rallied behind him. Natasha had plenty of reason to want the Winter Soldier dead; he'd tried to kill her multiple times and almost succeeded. Sam had no reason to help Bucky at all; he didn't know him, didn't trust him, and again, TWS had tried to kill him. But he stood by Steve, and when Bucky showed the clear difference between himself and TWS, Sam stood by him, too, and fought alongside him.

And it's very realistic, imo, that Tony didn't give a single fuck that Bucky had no choice. He watched this man murder both of his parents on tape. If TWS had killed my dad and I saw proof of it, I'd try to kill Bucky, too. Grief wins out over logic. Most emotions usually do. And that's a very important point we're going to come back to in a few minutes.

Bucky was really only in like ten minutes at most of IW and Endgame, and for multiple reasons I hate those movies, so I'm just gonna skip them, kay? Kay. On to the main event!

Here's where I get pissed off. Even if I didn't have an unhealthy attachment to this character, or the depth of appreciation for his tragic backstory that I do, the lack of continuity between the movies and the show alone would still piss me off. It always does. Don't even get me started on Joss "Continuity? What continuity?" Whedon and his (iconic, but flawed) shows. Ahem. Back on track...

Let me just get one little thing out of the way real quick: I fucking LOVE The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I love it. This show amazed me when I first watched it, and I still love it after many more viewings lol. I have only ever watched it all the way through without skipping over as much John Walker shit as possible the one time lol but I love how Sam and Bucky interact, and I fucking adore how Sam's arc was treated. I just wish they'd show the same care and attention to Bucky.

Because what they did to Bucky in this show is a fucking travesty. There was a tiny ray of hope in the pilot, when he called out Dr. Bitchface for being a terrible shrink. I thought that would be the start of him realizing he needed to find someone else and ignore the damaging shit that woman was telling him. But...nope. No such luck.

The show really had a strong start, I'll give it that. We see Bucky having nightmares of his time as TWS and struggling to hide how his traumatic memories are affecting him as he tries to live in the world again. He befriends the father of one of HYDRA's victims, which can't be good for Bucky (and we're shown it's definitely not when he sees the shrine in Yori's home to his late son) but it's sweet, how he's trying to connect and reach out to someone who's hurting and lonely.

They drop the ball a little with the whole... Bucky can hack a fucking car, but can't figure out Tinder thing. Had they just run with the fandom interpretation of the tiger photos line, that it shows that Bucky is bi and left it at that, I'd have been okay with it (and no, that is not because I ship Sam/Bucky. it's because Bucky is and always has been a certified nerd who loves technology and has consistently shown very little issue learning to use new gadgets). The outdated flip phone he handed his terrible court-mandated shrink was a burner; I liked that theory when I read it, especially since it's the only time we see him even holding a phone that old lol. This all could have fit the "Bucky is a sassy bisexual nerd" narrative and it'd be okay. Instead, the director was like "NOOOOOO that line was just to show how old he is and how he can't figure out all this newfangled technology!" Woman, you had him remotely driving someone else's vehicle with a tablet. That is NOT a man who can't figure out a damn smart phone!

But that's just a minor annoyance. What fills me with absolute rage is how everyone - not just the shitty therapist who lashes out at and purposely triggers her traumatized patients, but EVERYONE - Sam, Zemo, people who should fucking know better ALL treat him like he's a psychopath and a ticking time bomb. Like he chose to take the serum and he chose to kill for HYDRA, and he's just seen the error of his ways. *barf*

Bucky in the movies is established to be a victim, through and through. His guilt over what he was forced to do is natural, and that he sees himself as a monster makes sense... but that doesn't mean it's correct. The one and only thing I ever liked about Steve Rogers is at least he got it. He pointed out that none of it was Bucky's fault, he tried to show him that he was worth saving. That's the other reason I refuse to talk about Endgame. This post will get a WHOLE LOT LONGER and a lot fucking angrier if I open that door.

Zemo supposedly knows everything about HYDRA and super soldiers... So why does he treat Bucky like he's a corrupt serial killer? (this, for the record, is why I don't like Zemo) Why does he never point out that Bucky was given the serum against his will, or that his actions, when he had control of them, proved that he was never corrupted? Bucky never wanted to become superhuman. Bucky didn't even want to fucking fight!

Sam, despite constantly resisting the label, is shown very clearly to be Bucky's friend. By episode 3, he cares. He worries about how Bucky is getting lumped in with the other super soldiers in Zemo's speech... But he never really defends him. He says "what about Bucky?" but he doesn't point out that Bucky's a good man, he's fought so hard to help people, he does everything he can to avoid killing... And that fucking speech in episode 5. I was with him on "you gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." I was like "YEAH! Tell him, Sam! Bucky, you're WORTH SAVING, boo! Your value does not hinge on someone else's opinion of you!" And then... Sam dropped the ball.

He not only continued the disturbing pattern of victim-blaming in this show, and in Marvel/Disney properties in general, but he gave really dangerously bad advice! No one in their right mind, mental health professional or no, would EVER tell a traumatized former assassin (whether he was responsible for his actions or not) to go confront his victims' families out of the blue with no warning and no one to mediate and keep things from going to shit. Yori already knew his son had been murdered because he was in the "wrong place, wrong time." How is it being "of service" to tell him you're the one who killed him?! Remember how I said Tony's reaction to learning the full truth about his parents' deaths was valid and would be an important point later? Hi! Welcome to later. THAT is the natural reaction to facing the man who murdered your loved one(s). And even if Yori didn't get angry and lash out, HOW IS IT "HELPING" HIM OR BRINGING HIM "CLOSURE" TO KNOW THAT HIS FRIEND KILLED HIS FUCKING SON?!?!?! This man befriended him, bonded with him, watched him grieve... And now he's learning this is the man who caused all his pain and heartache to begin with? That is so toxic and psycho I just... I can't even... UGH.

And then there's the equally toxic and damaging "deeply traumatized person just needed a stern talking to and a hug to be ALL BETTER AGAIN" ending. I loved seeing Bucky happy and socializing, but it was too soon, and it was unearned. And it sends a fucking awful message to people actually struggling with PTSD, and to their loved ones who don't know how to help them. Heaping more blame on them and then hugging it out is NOT helpful!

This show could have been damn near perfect with just two changes. That's all. Just two. 1) Someone, anyone, bringing up the reasons why Bucky was never a villain in his presence. Someone being in his corner and reminding him, like Steve did, that it wasn't his fault and he's not going to "snap". 2) More time devoted to Bucky's healing. Actual fucking healing, not the shit they tried to pass off as a magic fix-all. He can have his happy barbecue moment, just don't frame it as "everything's great now!" Healing isn't linear, and there will be both good days and bad. Some of the most fragile people in the world have the brightest smiles.

If we get a season 2, which this amazing show absolutely deserves, and they address this stuff, all will be forgiven in my book. Expanding on his story and his journey toward healing will help to reframe that "happily ever after" garbage as something more realistic. But as it stands now... Fuck Marvel.

#fan rant #ragepost #long post #bucky barnes #mcu #captain america #the first avenger #the winter soldier #civil war #tfatws #mcu spoilers #stop victim blaming #victim not villain #never a fucking villain #bucky deserved better #fuck marvel #fuck disney

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artzychic27 · 3 years

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The Primaries: Beautiful

Adrien: September 1st, 1989. Dear Diary:

I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of Senior year! And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known since I got here, and I ask myself—what happened? Students: Freak! Liar! Burnout! Moron! Poser! Dumbass!

Adrien: We were so tiny, happy and shiny! Playing tag, and getting chased! Students: Bitch! Jerk! Liar! Bullies! Adrien: Singing and clapping, laughing and napping! Baking cookies, eating paste! Students: Blowhard! Stuck-up! Tabloid! Adrien: Then we got bigger, that was the trigger Like the Huns invading Rome! Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school: This is the Thunderdome! Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon! Students: White trash! Adrien: Next year will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June!... But I know, I know, life can be beautiful I pray, I pray for a better way If we changed back then, we could change again. We can be beautiful...

*Alya trips Aurore*

Aurore: Hey! Adrien: Just not today. *He goes to help her up* Hey, are you okay? Aurore: *She smacks his hand away* Don’t talk to me. Adrien: Oh, okay Students: Jerk! Liar! Poser! Doormat! Doormat! Doormat! Adrien: Things will get better soon as my letter Comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown Wake from this coma, take my diploma Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy-covered walls and smoky French cafés Lila: Watch it! Adrien: Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze! *Lila smacks Mireille’s lunch tray out of her hands*

Lila: Oops. Adrien: Lila Rossi. Third year as an Agreste Model, and tenth year of smacking lunch trays and being a lying bitch! Lila: Do you want me to tell your dad what you just said? Adrien: ... Shut up, Lila. But I know, I know... (I know, I know...) Life can be beautiful (Beautiful) I pray, I pray (I pray, I pray) For a better way (For a better way) We were kind before; (Ooh...) We can be kind once more (Ooh...) We can be beautiful... (Ooh... Beautiful...) *Nino taps on his shoulder*

Adrien: Ah!... Hey Nino. Nino: Hey! Adrien: Nino Lahiffe. My best friend since I started this school. Nino: We still on for movie night? Adrien: Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail. Nino: I rented "Jurassic Park." Adrien: Again? Wait, don't you have it memorized by now? Nino: What can I say? I'm a sucker for a good Spielberg movie. Alya: Nino! You can’t go to movie night; I need your help with the Ladyblog. Adrien: Alya Ceasaire: Blogger. She is always jumping to conclusions. It often leads to trouble. Lila: Oh! Then that means you’re free tonight, Adrien! Adrien: No! Nino and I are having movie night! Work on the Ladyblog another time. Lila: I'm sorry, are you actually standing up to me? Adrien: Yes, I am! I wanna know what gives you the right to act like a high and mighty control freak. You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future cocktail waitress!... Jean: Wow, Adrien! Your balls finally dropped. Congrats.

*The students laugh while Adrien blushes from embarrassment*

Adrien: Dear diary: Why... Myléne: Why do they hate us? Mireille: Why don't I fight back?

Marc: Why are they such creeps? Adrien: Why... Lila: Why won't he date me? Kim: Why did I hit him? Juleka/Mme. Bustier/Nino: Why do I cry myself to sleep? Adrien: Why... Students: Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me! Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!

... Students: Ah! Nathan, Chloé, and Mari...

Adrien: And then there's the Primaries. They float above it all... Students: I love Nathan, Chloé, and Mari... I hate Nathan, Chloé, and Mari... Adrien: Nathaniel Kurtzberg, president of the art club. His family is dangerous—they’re the Jewish mafia.

Students: I want Nathan, Chloé, and Mari...

Adrien: Chloé Bourgeois, my sort of best friend. Her dad runs the city. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for hair extensions. Students: I need Nathan, Chloé, and Mari... Adrien: And Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the Almighty... She has connections all over the world. They’re solid Teflon—never bothered, never harassed even though they’re in my class... I would give anything to be like that. Aurore: I'd like to be their girlfriend. Students: That would be beautiful... Sabrina: If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. Students: So beautiful... Ooh... Nino: I'd like them to be nicer. Students: That would be beautiful... Ooh... Lila: I'd like to kidnap a Primary and photograph them naked in an abandoned warehouse and leave them tied up for the rats.

*Cut to the Primaries in the locker room* Marinette: And after we take down that tabloid blog, we-

Mme. Bustier: *She walks in* Ah, Marinette, Nathaniel, and Chloé. Perhaps you didn't hear the bell. You're late for class. Marinette: Oh, yes. It’d be a shame if we were late to a class that had us read fairytales about princes kissing princesses to break spells. Ever heard of Edgar Allen Poe? *Chloé and Nathaniel snicker*

Mme. Bustier: *Sputters* Week's detention!

Adrien: Um, actually, Mme. Bustier, all four of us are out on a hall pass. Yearbook committee *He shows her the fake hall pass* Mme. Bustier: ...I see you're all listed. Hurry up and get where you're going. *She leaves* Marinette: *She takes the forged note and examines it* This is an excellent forgery, Agreste. I didn’t know you had it in you. Adrien: Thanks... I crave a boon Marinette: What boon? Adrien: Um. Let me sit at your table, at lunch. Just once. No talking necessary. If the others think that you guys tolerate me, then they'll leave me alone... *They laugh* Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes- Nathaniel: How about prescriptions? Chloe: Shut it, Nath. Nathaniel: You shut it. Marinette: ... You know, for a tall, lanky nobody whose father puts him on a strict diet and trims away body fat so you look like a twig in your shitty fashion magazines... You do have good bone structure. Nathaniel: And a symmetrical face. If I took a switchblade down the center of your skull, I'd have matching halves. That's very important. Chloé: Of course, you could stand to gain a few pounds. Marinette: And ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful. Some new clothes, brush his hair out. And we're on our way. Get this boy some blush; And Chloé, I need your brush Let's make him beautiful. Nathaniel: Let's make him beautiful... Chloé: Let's make him beautiful... Marinette: Make him beautiful... Okay? Adrien: Okay! *The next day*

Lila: Out of my way, bitch! Aurore: Why don’t you get bent?! Mireille: Your class will die at 3 pm! Marc/Jean: Don't you dare touch me! Get away, assholes! Alix/Kim: What did we ever do to them? Students: Who could survive this? I can't escape this! I think I'm dying! Juleka: Who's that with Mari? Students: Whoa... Nathan, Chloé, Mari... Aurore/Mireille/Marc: And someone! Students: Nathan, Chloé, Mari... Lila: And a babe! Students: Nathan, Chloé, Mari... Nino: Adrien?! Students: Adrien? Adrien? Adrien?! Adrien: And you know, you know, you know Life can be beautiful You hope, you dream, you pray And you get your way! Ask me how it feels! Lookin' like hell on wheels... My God, it's beautiful! I might be beautiful... And when you're beautiful... It's a beautiful frickin' day! Students: Nathan! Chloé! Mari! Adrien! Nathan! Chloé! Mari! Adrien! Adrien! Adrien! Adrien! Adrien!

#miraculous ladybug #heathers the musical #Heathers #HBBIC au #hbic marinette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Nathaniel Kurtzberg #Chloé Bourgeois #Lila salt #Alya salt

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flufflepuffle296 · 4 years

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Heathers au: Beautiful Songfic

This is more centred around Veronica/Marinette so not really any mentions of Heather/Heather/Heather. Sorry if someone’s done this before I apologise I just got into Heathers like two days ago. Also I changed some lyrics and took others out to make it more “realistic”. Sorry I suck at endings, it’s 5:30am rn and this is my first fic so be nice please! (I’m on mobile so I can’t add the keep reading tag so sorry if you don’t like this) xxx

I brushed down my dress: I couldn’t give them anything to criticise me over. Everything had to be perfect. I had to be perfect. Chloé sat next to me, my beautiful fiancée, slipping on her kitten heels. She may be 3 months pregnant but no Bourgeois woman would be seen wearing flats. I was in a red floor length a line dress — I grew out of my childish pink years ago, before it even went out of fashion! My hair was twisted into two plaits that were knotted together into a stylish bun at the back. Chloé meanwhile had stuck to her white and gold aesthetic, currently in a slim fitting white dress, showing off her small baby bump, decorated with gold jewellery. I rummaged through my drawers, trying to find a lipstick, when a thin book toppled out. I picked it up, and laughed fondly when I saw what it was.

My old Collège and Lycée diary.

I flipped through it, landing on the page that stuck most clearly in my mind. It was the day my class reminded me of my current reality at that time, shocking me out of a bubble that had surrounded me during the summer holidays that year.

September 1st, 1989.

Dear Diary: I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year!

And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—what happened?

I bit my lip. What happened? I knew darn well what happened. Lila Rossi. She came in, flaunting her friendships and connections, a new disability every other week to cry about, another rumour about me coming out every 3 days.

Alya ended our friendship, Adrien continued to cry about Lila’s feelings. Lila just kept doing what she did best. The class gave up on changing my mind and instead decided that calling me names would be better. Because logic?!

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Burnout!” “Bug-eyes!” “Poser!” “Lard-ass!” Were the insults they liked to yell daily. Yeah, they weren’t the most creative...

We were so tiny, happy and shiny. Playing tag and getting chased. Singing and clapping, laughing and napping. Baking cookies, eating paste.

Nino and Kim used to come over to the bakery when we were kids, where we’d gorge ourselves on sweets, before celebrating our sugar rushes by chasing each other in the park and then crashing on my sofa, cuddled in blankets and laying on top of each other.

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger. Like the Huns invading Rome. Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school: This is the Thunderdome. Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon. College will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again. We can be beautiful...Just not today.

I scoffed at my optimism back then. Them changing? They never did, I don’t know why I bothered trying at that point. I should’ve moved on but hey! We all make mistakes. It’s just that sometimes you make 11 friendships worth of mistakes.

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Cripple!” “Homo!” “Homo!” “Homo!”

I cringed as I read their old “insults”. They would write homophobic messages across my locker, getting Alix to spray paint a few slurs across my work after I came out as bisexual.

Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown. Wake from this coma, take my diploma. Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy-covered walls, no smoky French cafés. Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze!

I had purposefully sent out applications to universities far away from these people, from Paris. All three schools accepted me, something I can’t say about my classmates, most of whom were rejected for essays on false information (sourced by Lila) and a quick scan over the Ladyblog meant not a single newspaper would even consider my ex-best friend. Gabriel Agreste, as I later found out through my internship in America, had to bribe several schools with double tuition to get even one to accept Adrien, after he got exposed as sexual harasser and disgraced hero “Chat Noir”. I turned back to my diary, having to peel off rock hard gum from the page that someone had smeared in “revenge”.

Le Chiên Kim. Third year as linebacker and eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick.

“What did you say to me, skank?” He would yell, his fist raised in the hallway.

“Aah, nothing!” I then cowered. I may be Ladybug, but he was 150lbs of pure rage. No one can compete with that!

But I know, I know... Life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray, For a better way. We can be beautiful...

“Marinette! Wide load! Honnnnnk!”

He was the smartest guy on the football team. Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!”

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” He used to snarl, his hands covered in sauce from knocking my tray.

I stood my ground, I had been practising for this moment. “Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on me. You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future gas station attendant.”

Kim then smirked, crouching down to eye level and pressing a finger to my forehead. “You have a zit right there...” he pointed out, causing the cafeteria to laugh at my expense.

I used to ask myself “Why... Why do they hate me?”

And hear Adrien whisper “Why don't I fight back?”

Watch as Max Googled “Why do I act like such a creep?”

Listen in on Lila stamping her feet in the bathroom asking “Why won't he date me?” Clearly frustrated.

Kim panicking as he wondered “Why did I hit him?”

And Chloé sob down the phone “Why do I cry myself to sleep?”

I would stay up late, screaming, begging. At my lowest points I would cry out “Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me! Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!”

I remember when I first met my real friends. The famed trio had gone into the bathroom and I followed after them, clearly my throat.

“Who are you?”

“Uh... Marinette Dupain Cheng. I crave a boon”

“What boon?” Chloé asked, filing her nails.

“Um. Let me sit at your table, at lunch. If our class think that you guys tolerate me, then they'll leave me alone...”

Chloé threw her nail file out and began circling around me, running her hands through my hair, commenting that “For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure!” Before coming to a conclusion.

“And ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful. Mascara, maybe some lip gloss, and we're on our way. Get this girl some blush; and Kagami, I need your brush. Let's make her beautiful.” Sabrina and Kagami, chimed in, echoing her words.

“Let's make her beautiful...”

“Let’s make her beautiful...”

“Make her beautiful...Okay?” Chloé ordered, dragging me out with Kagami and Sabrina, driving me to her hotel. They sat me down, taking my hair out of its bunches and brushing it out. Kagami painted my nails a deep navy with surprising precision, manning my cuticles. Sabrina twirled my hair into a high bun, leaving a few pieces at the front to frame my face. Chloé came back from her wardrobe, throwing a blue blazer and grey skirt at me. I changed into my outfit for them, to which they clapped their hands in glee. They dragged me back to school, taking in everyone’s reactions to the new and improved me. This became my new daily outfit for the rest of the year — the class couldn’t find anything bad about it, and even if they did Chloé would threaten them with her father’s power.

I was happy with my squad. Kagami taught us Japanese and Chloé taught us American English that she’d picked up from her mother. I taught them self defence, under the guise of learning it from my mum, unknowingly training them for the day I would rip Chat Noir’s miraculous from him, before slamming it into Kagami’s palm. I needed help that day, so thrust them bee and the fox miraculous at Chloé and Sabrina respectively. They became permanent heroes, Kagami under the name “Noirette”, Chloé under the new guise of “Buttercup” and Sabrina “Renard Rouge”. Akuma attacks have never lasted more than 15 minutes since we got rid of that alley cat, and we’ve been closing in on Hawkmoth recently.

I shook my head, snapping the crude book shut, throwing the diary in the bin. Today was going to be the day I made peace with all that happened, our 10 year school reunion. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna make up with anyone, just that I will finally leave everything behind. I found my lipstick and smeared on the crimson lip, smacking my lips together. I grabbed my clutch and helped Chloé stand up, though she wobbled a little in her heels. I slid her miraculous into her updo, blowing a kiss at her as to not ruin her makeup.

We met up with Kagami and Sabrina in the hallway, Kagami in a wine red suit with gold jewellery, and Sabrina was in emerald green to compliment her red hair. We stepped into the limo awaiting us outside and set off, arriving at the school 10 minutes later. We walked up the steps, hitching up our dresses and arrived in the courtyard. It had been lit up with fairy lights, with stands of food and drinks scattered around the court. Our old classmates were huddled in small groups, whilst Mlle. Mendeleiev’s was in a large group, enjoying each other’s company after 10 years apart.

No one noticed us, until Rose pointed at me and whispered “Who’s that with Chloé?” The group turned to stare at us, trying to place my face. Adrien looked up from talking to Lila, who seemed to be flaunting a rather tacky Gabriel engagement ring, and whispered,

“Marinette?!”

The class began gossiping amongst themselves, “Marinette? Marinette? Marinette?!”

I ignored them, their childish ways were behind me, and walked up to Aurore and Mireille, fawning over their relationship. They turned Kagami, asking her about her life and squealing over her Olympic medal for fencing. I grinned as I watched my old class, happy that they had moved on from each other — well apart from Alya and Adrien, who were still hooked on Lila. I was finally, content! I thought back on my diary, one particular paragraph standing out to me at this time.

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful. You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! Ask me how it feels, lookin' like hell on wheels...My God, it's beautiful! I feel so beautiful... And when you're beautiful...It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Chloé boasted my achievements, my business, my awards, and the entire of Mendeleiev’s class started chanting “Marinette! Marinette! Marinette!”, much to my embarrassment. I boasted her’s in return, Sabrina revealed how far she’d come as a lawyer, Kagami swung her prized sword from side to side as she listened to us all catching up, laughing at the memories.

It really was a beautiful day.

#lila salt #adrien salt #class salt #marinette deserves better #alya salt #mlb #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #chloe sugar #kagami tsurugi #sabrina raincomprix #heathers au #beautiful heathers #songfic

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jamilelucato · 4 years

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1.Beautiful [hog. heathers]

Summary: This story is based on Heathers, the musical. It’s set in Hogwarts, back in the last year Tom Riddle studied there. Y/N is a Ravenclaw student.

Pairing: Tom Riddle x reader (later on)

Heathers Series || Musical Hogwarts List A/N: first chapter! Here you get a vision of this world I built but soon Tom will make an appearance. Hope you enjoy it! If you wanna be tagged, ask!

Tag List: @just-an-outstanding-auror @starcrossedyanderes @doctorriddle @cchris-a

---

September 1st, 1943:

Dear diary, I believe I’m a good person. You know, I think that there’s good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year! And uh... I look around at these kids that I’ve known all my life, and I ask myself—what happened?

Another year back at Hogwarts. Your parents were excited — you, not so much. Not that the school wasn’t great, but you just couldn’t take the other students anymore.

Your family was pureblood and that generally meant some sort of status. Not anymore — the most popular kids in Hogwarts were either half-bloods or muggle-borns, so you and some fellow friends that were also purebloods were generally bullied. They saw you as potential threats, and you couldn’t understand why. It was not like purebloods wanted to see muggle-borns dead; most of you just didn’t want to mix the blood.

One step inside the train and the gossip started:

“Freak!”

“Slut!”

“Burnout!”

“Bug-eyes!”

You sighed on your way to finding an empty space to sit. You were so tiny, happy and shiny; playing tag and getting chased. Singing and clapping, laughing and napping; baking cookies, eating paste.

You looked inside one compartment and weren’t welcomed.

“Bull-dyke, get out!” screamed a large boy at you.

Well, diary, you continued later when you finally found a place to sit, then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome.

“Oh, sorry!” you said the boy before leaving his cabin.

Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school. This is the Thunderdome. Hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon. A job will be paradise if I’m not dead by June!

You were almost reaching the end of the train, and you still couldn’t find an empty place.

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful; I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again.

We can be beautiful...

There were fewer students as you were walking, but still, none seemed so happy with the idea of sitting with you.

Things will get better soon as my letter comes from the Charms Specialization Center in France. Wake from this coma, take my diploma, then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy-covered walls and smoky French cafés...

“Watch it!” shouted a tall blonde boy that had bumped into you. You didn’t even notice, but he was angry, and, as a revenge, he made you drop your diary. “Ooooops,” he laughed.

You looked at the boy. It was Ram Sweeney. Third-year as Gryffindor’s beater and seventh year of smacking kids, and being a huge... “Dick,” you whispered, suddenly angry for having to get the diary from the floor.

“What did you say to me, skank?”

Shit, he listened. “Aah, nothing!” you quickly got out of the way.

You know, diary, we were kind before; we can be kind once more. We can be beautiful...

An empty cabin at last! You sat down as fast as you could, scared it could disappear. A girl walked in just after you, and, for a moment, you were frightened.

“Hey, Myrtle!”

Myrtle was the only one you could call your friend at that place. Both of you were from Ravenclaw and had a lot of fun together, even though you two had some different perspectives on life.

“Hey,” she smiled, sitting next to you.

The train trip wasn’t much fun, but after Myrtle and you found a place to sit — and nobody tried to take you two out —, things were more peaceful.

School, on the other hand, was the same nightmare as always.

Professor Dippet said a couple of nice words before the start of the first feast, kind words about how to treat each other. For a second, it seemed as if everybody listened and were committed to obeying. But as said, it didn’t last the whole second. When the Headmaster finished his speech, people were back at their normal mean behaviour.

Days passed like a blur, or at least, you pretend that was how it went. You tried not to focus on the offensive words the students called you and Myrtle, but sometimes it was just too much.

“We on for book night?” asked Myrtle while leaving the Great Hall and walking towards the dorms.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be with them,” you replied, smiling slightly. Myrtle had a way to trick the librarian that you never managed to have.

“Got us the ‘The Princess Bride’,” she smirked, making you giggle.

“Ho-ho-ho, again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a happy ending” Myrtle crossed her arms and squeezed herself as if she had been hugged by a prince.

So different from you, but yet, the only friend you had.

“Myrtle Crybaby! Hoow!” Kurt Kelly screamed, knocking Myrtle to the ground.

Kurt Kelly was the famous Chaser from Slytherin. The smartest guy on the team, in your opinion, but that was like being the tallest dwarf.

“Hey! How dare you?!” you barked at him, helping Myrtle to get up. She was lived red, ashamed of the situation.

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Kurt smirked in a mean way, challenging you.

“Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future human house-elf,” you hoped your face was as severe and furious as you were inside.

Kurt waited for you to end your speech before confidently pointing something on your face. “You have a zit right there,” he said and laughed, followed by all the other kids around you.

November 13rd, 1943:

Dear diary, why do they hate me? Why don’t I fight back? Why do they act like such creeps?

Why…

You looked around the room, making sure everybody was already asleep. Myrtle was even snoring, which made you giggle in the dark.

Writing a diary was a private thing for you, but there weren’t many ways to be in private in Hogwarts.

Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!

***

The next day promised to be as tedious as the day before, but something was different. At first, you thought it was just the change of seasons — the cold air of Winter. But it wasn’t all that.

Classes were nice. You liked your Professors, at least when they were teaching, they were neat.

You ate lunch at the Great Hall at the Ravenclaw table, just like all the days before. But that feeling in your stomach of something unusual was still there.

“Going to the toilet, okay?” you told Myrtle before leaving. In fact, there was nothing you wanted to do there except splash water in your face and see if things went back to normal.

That was when the Heathers walked in, and you hurried to close yourself behind a door, too terrified to face them.

The Heathers was a group of girls that floated above it all.

Heather McNamara was the hot witch form Hufflepuff. Her dad is loaded— one of the wizards with more money, but he was a muggle-born, so your family usually didn’t talk about him.

Heather Duke was the head girl from Slytherin, with no discernible personality, but blessed with an incredible body.

And Heather Chandler, the Almighty. She was a mythic bitch from Gryffindor and had everyone at her feet.

They’re solid Teflon—never bothered, never harassed.

I would give anything to be like that, you thought, lamenting in the toilet.

You sit in quiet, listening to their conversation. One of the girls rushed to the toilet, and you heard her vomit.

“Grow up, Heather. Bulimia is so ‘37,” said one of the Heathers, and based on her tone — such leaderlike— you guessed that was Chandler.

“Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather,” the other Heather suggested.

The one vomiting exhaled loudly before answering. “Yeah, Heather. Maybe I should.”

“Ah, Heather and Heather” oh shit, you gasped, recognizing that voice immediately, “...and Heather. Perhaps you didn’t notice the time with all the vomiting. You’re late for class.”

That bossy voice belonged to Ms Fleming, the second in command when the Headmaster wasn’t around, and also identified as the Herbology Professor. And knowing her, she was about to punish the girls.

Noticing you kept your diary in hands, you took a piece of paper out and scribbled on it.

“Heather wasn’t feeling well. We’re helping her,” H. Chandler told the Professor.

“Not without a hall pass, you’re not,” you could feel Ms Fleming was smiling even though you couldn’t see her. “Week’s detention.”

Done!, you thought before rushing out of the toilet.

“Um, actually, Professor Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass. Christmas committee,” you informed, getting out of the toilet, keeping a straight face and handing her the paper.

Professor Fleming took her time to analyze the piece of paper, and you held your breath until she finally returned it to you.

“I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

Heather Chandler was staring at you like you were an abnormal animal she had just discovered, but you couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

“This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?”

“Uh... y/N y/L/N,” you fastly replied. “I crave a boon.”

H. Chandler raised a brow at you as if you made no sense. “What boon?”

“Um, let me sit at your table at lunch. Just once. No talking necessary,” Heather remained silent, so you continued, “if people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone...”

The first Heather to laugh was Chandler, of course, but it didn’t take more than a second for the other two to follow. It was as if they needed Chandler’s permission to laugh.

“Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes,” you added, hoping this would change their view.

Heather Duke widened her eyes, raising her eyebrows at an abnormal height. “How about prescriptions?”

“Shut up, Heather,” H. Chandler’s reprehension came quickly.

“Sorry, Heather,” H. Duke ducked, almost embarrassed.

The three Heathers exchanged a look, planning something. You shivered — your destiny was in their hands, but, unfortunately, that rarely meant a promising one.

Chandler stepped forward, looking you up and down.

“For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure.”

“And you have a symmetrical face,” added Heather McNamara, holding your face with one hand. “If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I’d have matching halves. That’s very important.”

Heather Duke frowned her brow.

“Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds,” she was one to talk — always vomiting what she ate.

Heather Chandler pulled the other Heathers away, pulling you by the hand. “And ya know? This could be beautiful,” she seemed to investigate what was lacking on your face. “Mascara, maybe some lip gloss and we’re on our way. Get this girl some blush; and Heather, I need your brush. Let’s make her beautiful.”

McNamara agreed with a smile, but Duke was pretending not to care. She never liked it when Chandler played the helper.

“Okay?” the Gryffindor asked before using the brush on you.

“Okay!” you agreed, a bit too loud.

Heather Chandler took you by the hand out of the bathroom and towards the Gryffindor Tower, with McNamara and Duke following behind. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought it would stop. It was one of your biggest dreams to be with the Heathers, and there you were, walking into Chandler’s room, unable to stop smiling.

She took a long time with your hair — which you didn’t even know needed a makeover. McNamara had the job of applying makeup, and she did it happily.

Heather Duke, however, wasn’t so thrilled to have to get you new uniforms.

“Oh, come on, Heather, just ask the boys — they’ll steal it for you,” said Chandler, rolling her eyes at her best friend.

“Fine,” she sighed before leaving.

According to them, there were more than just the traditional style of uniform, and they’d have lent theirs to you, but since you were a Ravenclaw, they had nothing in your house colour.

Heather Duke appeared half an hour later with the new uniform — all in blue, but so much more fashionable than the one you always used.

You didn’t bother asking from who she stole because that wasn’t the first wrong thing you were doing that day. The first thing was skipping the rest of the classes just to get the proper look.

***

“I reckon we’re ready,” said Heather Chandler, but she didn’t let you look yourself in the mirror. She said it would jinks it. “Now, let’s go. People need to know the new you.”

The new you. They didn’t even know the old you.

As soon as you stepped in the corridors, the whispered started, and this time, they weren’t making fun of you.

“Who’s that with Heather?” you heard someone ask.

The feeling of leaving everyone speechless was something you had never felt before and yet, so good. You and the Heathers stopped at the Courtyard — part of Chandler’s plan of introducing you.

“Y/N?!” you heard from behind and turned only to see Myrtle, holding her book with both hands and her mouth wide open.

She didn’t dare come closer to the Heathers so you could only wave at your friend. She didn’t look bothered, however. She knew once at the dorms, you’d tell her everything.

“You know, we should have found a Ravenclaw before,” said Heather Chandler. “It was the house missing from our group.”

“We were waiting for a girl named Heather though,” remembered the Slytherin Heather.

“Well, yes, but now we’re in our last year. Nobody new is ever coming, Heather,” said Chandler, practically ending the discussion so Duke could say nothing else.

You had never been so close to the Heathers before, so you had no way of knowing, but even though the three of them were at the top of the pyramid, it was H. Chandler who stood at the very top. You’d have to be careful if you wanted to be amongst them more often.

After all, you were a Heather now.

November 14th, 1943:

Dear diary, you know, life can be beautiful. You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! Ask me how it feels lookin’ like hell on wheels... My God, it’s beautiful! I might be beautiful...

Oh, diary... It’s a beautiful frickin’ day!

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle fanfic #rom riddle imagine #hogwarts #voldemort #voldemort x reader #harry potter #wizarding world #hp

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