#but like reader beats his high score on whatever game he’s centered on and it pisses him off that her name keeps coming up on leaderboards

[peachsukii]

So, chat…how do we feel about streamer!Bakugo and V-Tuber!reader ? 👀

[got-svt]

all the boys you’ve loved and lost during the course of our lives, we meet thousands of people, creating either a seconds long moment or memories that last a lifetime. some of them you’ll have the opportunity to know beyond their names and faces, some you may even grow to love. unfortunately, not all of them have the luxury of staying in your life forever.

❥• two: the academic rival 

he’s the one that had you wondering how could you be so similar to someone, yet so different? he knew how to push your buttons and make a competition of everything, whether it was sports, academics or extracurriculars. he was the one that made steam come out of your ears and blood rush to your cheeks. but even you had to admit there was a certain rush that came with it, too bad he transferred schools just before senior year.

pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader genre: fluff, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to ??? word count: 2292

→   you genuinely thought the universe had it out for you when you were placed in the same year level as yoon jeonghan, more so when it placed you in the same class. you first caught sight of jeonghan in your first year of middle school. he was the boy seated three seats behind you. he seemed unassuming at first, somewhat quiet, and — dare you say it — nice and sweet, angelic almost. he only conversed with the other boys that sat near him, not sparing a glance to most. however, it wasn’t until a few years later, when you both started high school that you learned his true personality.

→   it was no secret that you studied hard, spending hours in the library, sacrificing nights of sleep. the results of your hard work showed very clearly in classes, on the nearly perfect marks on each of your exams and essays, how the teacher praised your answers during recitation. you relished in the gold stars, the awards, the quiet envy of your classmates.

→   you had never seen jeonghan open a single book, let alone actually read it. there was not a single time you saw him set foot inside a library. multiple times you’ve caught him answering homework minutes before the teacher walks in the room. which is why your blood boiled when you saw he was getting scores just as good as yours, finishing exams before anyone else in the classroom, his hand shooting up just as soon as yours when teachers call for someone to answer their question. eventually, you both gave up raising your hands altogether, competing to be the one to get an answer out first.

→   you wished he remained that quiet kid in middle school, who only stared at you with wide eyes when the teacher announced you had been the only one in your class to get a perfect score, who acknowledged your existence with a small nod instead of a smirk. 

→  unbeknownst to you, your little rivalry was slightly one sided. you see, jeonghan didn’t care much about winning or losing. truly he didn’t mind much if you had gotten the higher score, or be the one to answer the teacher’s question first. but god, did he enjoy seeing the way your eyebrow furrowed when he did, how you bottom lip forms into a little pout, how you gripped your pen so hard he was afraid it would snap. he still remembered the first time it happened, the birth of your so called rivalry, when he corrected your answer to the class first day of freshman year. since then, you had always been determined to one-up him every chance you got. much to your dismay, he was not one to back down.

→   and unfortunately for you, academics was not the only place you and jeonghan seemed to compete in. while you were in the swimming team, he played on the soccer team. you even had a small notepad to keep tallies of whose team was winning more games. 

“nervous, yn?” jeonghan asked, coming up to you as you were about to prepare for a race. if anyone else had heard him ask, they’d think he was concerned. but you knew this was only the beginning of him getting you riled up. jeonghan had never missed a single one of your swim meets, each time he comes over to you before the competition would even begin. 

“not a chance.” you rolled your eyes, waving a hand to shoo him away to the stands. but he showed no signs of leaving, his feet firmly on the tiled floor of the rec center.

jeonghan raised an eyebrow at your show of unwavering confidence, but he knew in the way your voice slightly trembled that you were not as assured as you presented yourself to be. fortunately, he knew exactly what to do to rid you of your nerves. “we won our game today, so it must be exhausting for you, huh?”

“what is?”  

he grinned, knowing the exact words to say to get your blood pumping just before a competition, “living in my shadow all the time.”

“if anything, you’re the one who’s living in mine.” you scoffed, more fired up than ever, determined to prove him wrong. suddenly, you couldn’t wait to get into the water, “i’m leaving now.”

“good luck, yn!” jeonghan called out with a smile, only to be met with a wave of your hand — you didn’t turn back for he would only see the blush that slowly formed on your cheeks. still it was more than enough for him as he looked for a seat in the stands with a soft smile. occasionally, he would send you a wink when his gaze met yours — though you only rolled your eyes at him when he did. 

and despite the fact that you seemed to be annoyed at his presence during your competitions, jeonghan always cheered you on, his voice clear and resounding even as you swam underwater.

→   but rarely were the two of you ever actively pitted directly against one another. you were always in the same class, and on the same team during activities that teachers found it somewhat remarkable that both of you were still able to find a way to compete against each other. it was always who could be the one to lead their team to victory, who contributed more points, who their own teammates liked better. 

→   it wasn’t until your phys ed teacher decided to make her two star pupils team captains in a friendly game of dodgeball that you were actually engaged in a direct, head-to-head competition.

“you totally cheated!” you yelled out as soon as the whistle was blown, signalling the end of the game. eyes ablaze with irritation and frustration, you pointed a single finger at jeonghan, recalling how you saw the ball lightly graze jeonghan’s leg but he made no attempt in leaving the court.

“i did not.” he held his hands up in mock defense, but a smile was on his face as he took in your angrily shaking figure. jeonghan wanted to burst out laughing, not even the least bit threatened or afraid as you stomped your way over to him. “my team just happened to be better than yours.”

you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face, it didn’t matter how, you just desperately wanted to. your steps got longer and quicker at his words, cheeks flaming up both from being out of breath from playing and anger. your teammates swore they saw steam come out of your ears. “how dare you!”

your phys ed teacher stopped you just as you were about a couple of feet away from only lightly shoving jeonghan — you weren’t actually going to hurt him. grabbing you by your shoulders, she asked you to calm down and join your teammates in cleaning up the equipment, the agreed upon punishment for the game’s losers. 

but jeonghan wasn’t done with you yet, staying behind as his teammates went straight to the showers, “hey, yn.”

“what do you want?” you asked with a frown, not in the mood to hear him flaunting his win so soon. 

“maybe i did cheat.” he said, just loud enough for you to hear.

your eyes went wide, feeling somewhat proud that your suspicions were correct. but as you were about to open your mouth to retort, he leaned down so his face was level with and merely inches away from yours. you never fully noticed how good he looked, even though he was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking down his forehead. with a confident smile and a quiet whisper, “but i don’t think anyone’s going to believe you.”

“bye, yn!” he moved away and leaves the gym before you could even reply. but you weren’t even mad, more confused than anything else, remembering how close his face was to yours and how quickly your heart started beating because of it. 

→  since the dodgeball incident that had you nearly injuring both yourself and jeonghan, most of your teachers decided that it would be best to keep you two on the same side as it would probably be the best way to keep you two from fighting. they also knew of the incredible potential you and jeonghan could hold if you actually worked together. you both were incredibly smart, talented, and resourceful. whatever you lacked, jeonghan made up for and vice versa. 

→  which is probably why your english teacher decided to pair you up for your final project during your junior year of high school. both of you thought it was unfair, since everyone else got to choose their partners. the rest of your class thought it was unfair too, why did you pair up two of the smartest kids in their year? but they were also kind of interested to see what the both of you could come up with.

→   this is how you found yourself in the library, working with yoon jeonghan of all people. you would’ve much rather be paired up with the girl that sat next to you — she was quiet, but sweet. you’d rather even be paired up with your childhood friend, chan. but he was not in the same class and you hadn’t been speaking much lately. so you’d have to make do with jeonghan.

“i’m tired, i’m taking a nap.” jeonghan yawned, stretching his arms out to further prove his point. 

“we’ve barely started.”

“and yet i’m already bored.” he sighed dramatically, making a show of hitting his head on the table with a quiet thud. 

“what do you want me to do about it?” you didn’t bother looking up from your book, knowing that seeing his disinterested face would only put you in a bad mood. 

his eyes light up at your question, thinking that you were actually asking him for a suggestion, “let’s go for a drive.”

“what? no—” was this boy serious? you had another class in thirty minutes, where would you even go?

jeonghan groaned, cutting off your words and your train of thought, “live a little, yn. not everything’s about being number one. you can miss one class.”

you told him that if he wanted you out of the library, he’d have to drag you out kicking and screaming. which is exactly what he did, much to the amusement of your fellow students and even the librarian. now, you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his car, aimlessly driving around town — you were sure you passed the same tree four times. still, you found the drive somewhat relaxing; especially since you two weren’t arguing. 

but it was much too quiet for jeonghan’s liking. you were just staring out the window, arms crossed. he feared that he’d done something wrong. “hey, yn.”

“what?”

jeonghan chewed on his bottom lip, gripping the steering wheel tighter than he intended, “you don’t hate me, do you?”

you laughed at his nervousness. truth be told, you needed a bit of a break, so you couldn’t be too mad at him for taking you out of that stuffy library. you also knew he was asking for your opinion on him beyond this little trip. “on the contrary, i like that you keep me on my toes.”

jeonghan grinned, turning his gaze on you for the quickest of moments, “so you should be thanking me instead of grumbling in the passenger seat.”

you spent the rest of the afternoon talking, learning more about the other outside sports and academics. you were surprised at how much you had in common and he enjoyed the intense debates you had on your differences.

→  that was the car ride that changed your relationship from rivals to reluctant friends. though you were never really rivals to jeonghan to begin with. arguments became few and far in between. your cheeks tinting pink less out of frustration and more out of being flustered as he became as  flirty as he was teasing. 

→  unfortunately, he would be transferring schools the following year, just as you started to see him as more than a rival or a friend. 

→  and you didn’t find out about it until the first day of your senior year.

“wait, where’s jeonghan?” you asked your friend, noticing the lack of his usual teasing voice greeting you in the morning.

“didn’t he tell you?”

“tell me what?”

“he transferred schools yn.”

❥•  jeonghan knew he’d be transferring schools months before he even took you on that drive. he also knew he had grown feelings for you much before that. but with his father’s job needing them to relocate halfway across the country, he couldn’t find it in himself to confess. not when he knew he eventually would have to leave you. so when you bombarded his phone with texts, demanding that he explain why he couldn’t notify you of his move, all he could offer was an apology and another text telling you to check the last page of your english notebook.

you huffed as you looked down at your phone, that was all he had to say to you? after acting like he wasn’t just about to pack his bags and leave town for months on end.

still, you shook your head as you went to your closet, picking up the box where you kept your past notebooks. you shuffled past your science, math, art notebooks to find the one you used for english — still as neat and organized as you remember it to be. you flipped the notebook to its final page.

a quiet gasp escapes your lips as you read the words that were unmistakably in jeonghan’s handwriting,

don’t forget to live a little :) and don’t forget about me either. 

seventeen as all the boys you’ve loved and lost. next  ➤  vernon chwe, the first love

taglist: @t-secretpot @serenadesvt @chuu-soulmate​

ask/message to be part of the taglist <33

[13uswntimagines]

Baseball Showoffs (Rose x baseball Player!Reader)

Request: reader x rose, maybe the reader is a baseball player and is up against the Braves aka Mr. pugh and then maybe the team hosts a watch party for the game

Authors Note: Hey dudes, so I might have gone a bit crazy with the baseball terms. I also happen to be a big Yankee’s fan, so if you don’t like them, you can totally switch the teams. I hope you enjoy! Feel free to send me feedback or just hit up my page if you wanna say Hi! 

Team bonding was a normal occurrence for the national team. It was typically a time filled with movies, stupid games like truth or dare and Dawn approved snacks. But today, it would be centered around a different kind of game. 

It was the Atlanta Braves taking on the New York Yankees, or as far as the team was concerned, you verses Dansby Swanson (more like Rose vs Mal, but everyone was too afraid to say it).

“I didn’t think you two liked baseball,” JJ muttered from beside Rose, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. The woman in question rolled her eyes. 

“We don’t, but Y/n looks hot in the uniform, and her little celebrations are adorable,” The midfielder smirked, wiggling her shoulders as if to prove her point.  The two of you had been dating for 4 years, and in that time you still couldn’t convince her that baseball was remotely interesting. She only watched to see your bat flips and dance moves. You had recently been traded to the Yankees in the hopes that you could bring them the winning spirit from the Nationals (which they had lost after Jeter retired, or that at least what you told her).

“Y/n has been killing it this season. She has like a .370 batting average”  Ashlyn snorted, shoving popcorn in her mouth. She wasn’t a giant Yankees fan, but after the Braves defeat of the Marlins, she couldn't support them in good conscience. 

“Dansby isn’t bad either though, it’s like a .33,” Kelley argued. She wasn’t a huge baseball fan, but she had to rep for her state. 

“Yeah, but y/n has 16 home runs, and it’s only their 12th game, Mr. Pugh is going to have his hands full for sure,” Alyssa countered with raised eyebrows. Sure she didn’t like the Yankees as much as she liked the Cubs, but almost anyone was better than the Braves. 

“No offense to y/n, but my money is on the braves,” Kelley said nudging Rose, who nodded in understanding. 

“That’s right, gotta rep our home team,” Emily nodded back, giving the frat daddy a high five. 

“Aren't they away this week?” Mal asked with furrowed eyebrows. . 

“Y/n isn’t in grey so yeah,” Rose nodded. The only reason she knew that was because she thought you looked sexier in the blue pinstripes than the ugly grey one (though she much preferred the red uniform of the Nationals).

“Is that how it works?” Megan questioned, suddenly interested now that the fashion choices were the center of attention instead of batting averages or whatever. 

“Yeah, the home team wears white pants and bats 2nd” Kelley nodded, returning her attention to the TV where the 1st inning came to an end after a strikeout. 

“Y/n has got a damn good batting average and home team advantage, so she’s going to crush Dansby,” Rose mumbled and Mal rolled her eyes. There was no way that you were going to beat her boyfriend. 

“Well Dansby’s up to bat, so we’ll see just how they match up,” JJ laughed, enjoying how riled up the team was getting for a sport that everyone claimed to not like. 

*****

The New York sun was bright as you paced back and forth in the area between 2nd and 3rd base waiting for the next batter to be ready. You were frustrated that Dansby had managed to get into first, and with Riley up to bat, you were sure you were going to be getting some action soon.

You squared up to home plate, crouching slightly as Garrett got ready to throw the next pitch. The ball came off the bat like a rocket, slicing towards you as Dansby ran towards 2nd. Just as he rounded the base You caught the ball and tagged him as he passed you for a double play. 

“Couldn’t have given me that one?” He winked at you after the 3rd vase umpire called him out. The two of you were pretty close considering you hung out at lots of USWNT matches. 

“Not a chance, now stop trying to impress your girl and play smart, shoulda stayed at second,” You smirked back, tapping his chest with your glove. 

“Ooh, like you aren’t doing the same thing,” He laughed back.

“Never said I wasn’t, but it seems to be working out a little better for me, I just made an amazing catch” You held up the ball to prove your point. 

“Maybe you should go for something a little less subtle,” He shrugged back good-naturedly. Your girls weren’t big into baseball, but you were sure that your leaning catch would at least draw you a “good job” from Rose. 

“We’ll see, there’s a time and a place for everything,” You smirked at the man, shoeing him back towards the dugout. 

******

The team watch with bated breath as you edged your way off of second plate. It was the bottom of the 7th and your team was still frustratingly tied with Dansby’s (as your 2 run homer had been matched by 2 individual runs from the other team). 

“ the braves better be careful, Y/l/n has the highest stealing average in the league,” Ashlyn chimes in, and right in cue you made a break for 3rd base. 

The pitcher had been onto you, sending the ball towards Dansby, but you were already one step ahead, leaping over the man and landing safely on the plate. 

“God she so cute,” Rose sighed dreamily as you stuck your tongue out at Mr. Pugh. 

“She just stole a base and that’s what you say?” Kelley snorted. Yes her team was losing, but she had to admit that you had some serious skill. 

“She’s got dirt in her nose,” Rose shrugged, smiling wider when you did a little happy wiggle as your teammate stepped up to bat. 

******

The team crowded around the TV, far more interested in the outcome of this game than they thought they’d be. It was the bottom of the 9th, the bases were loaded and your team was down by 2. You needed to hit a run to win. 

The women watched as you tightened your fingers on the bat, the commentators mentioning how your famous left-handed swing was similar to Rose’s. 

“They should change the names on their jerseys, none of the fans call them by their own last names anyway,” Julie snorted, as the commentator went on about how this matchup was ingesting because you and Dansby were dating USWNT players. It didn’t help that you and him kept interacting every chance you got. 

“Y/n and I have the same number, so they don’t wanna confuse the fans,” Rose retorted with an eye roll. 

“She’s batting lefty?” Sam asked surprised. Every other time you were at-bat, you had hit righty. It was strange to see you switch it up. 

“Yeah, she’s a switch hitter. It’s probably to trip Soroka up,” Kelley shrugged. Their pitcher was known for having issues with lefties, and you guys needed a hit to win, so that was most likely your motivation. They just switched Anderson for him, so you changed that is too. 

“Soroka is solid. There’s no way she’s getting another hit off of him,” Emily fired back. The dude had one of the highest strikeout rates in the league, there was no way you were going to get anything more than a double. You were dangerous at-bat, and had already scored big, it was probably why they put him on the mound. 

“10 bucks?”  Kelley asked with a raised eyebrow, holding her hand out for a shake. Emily snorted, slapping the hand. 

“Deal,”

*****

You tightened your hands on the bat, your eyes taking in every detail of the pitcher. The bases were loaded, you were down by two, you needed a hit to keep your team alive. Soroka nodded at the catcher, winding up for the pitch. You had watched enough of his games to know what that windup meant. The ball seemed to move in slow motion as it left his fingers and screamed its way towards home plate, right down the middle in his famous fastball. You took a deep breath and swung the bat, a crack resounding throughout the stadium when it made contact. 

You watched the ball as it sailed towards the wall, standing frozen on home plate as it went. The fans roared when it came to a stop on the second deck of the stadium, a wide smile breaking across your face. You flipped your bat high and began the long trot around the bases, the fan’s cheers and the stadium’s fireworks the soundtrack to your success. 

“Now that’s how you impress,” You smirked cockily at Dansby as you rounded 2nd base. He was a good friend to you, but scoring a walk-off grand slam in the bottom of the 9th was the ultimate euphoric moment and it totally deserved a little bit of cockyness. 

“Whatever Y/L/N” The man smiled back shaking his head and low-fiving you as you passed him. You had beaten him in your competition to out show off to your girls this time, but he’d get you next time. Somehow, some way. 

As you jogged towards home plate, the camera zoomed in on you. You tapped your number, and blew a kiss towards it, hoping that Rose knew that you had hit that grand slam for her, to impress her. (unknown to you she caught the kiss through the T.V. and put it in her pocket). Sure she didn’t like baseball, but she loved you. 

[yan-twst]

Hellooo ! Can I have a scenario with Floyd ? The reader is from RSA and they meet Floyd during a competition of basketball. They notice each other immediately and are strangely attracted to each other. During the match an NRC player gets angry/violent at the reader and Floyd defends them. I hope it's not too detailed ! Thank you :)

warnings: none

they / them darling

The rivalry between RSA and NRC was always a present issue on both schools, but especially when it came to sports. In Magift, NRC had the upper hand- however, in basketball... Well, it was a bitter subject for the NRC team; it wasn’t as if they were bad at it, but... The damn RSA kids were too good. Like, suspiciously good. Every single game was a high-tension deal: even this “friendly” game was clearly getting both teams fired up.

“Hey, is that a new player there?” Ace whispered to his teammates, pointing to an RSA student mingling amongst the others.

“Haah, you’re right! Seems like they got a new player!” said Floyd, tilting his head. Both teams were already well-acquaintanced; of course, they didn’t befriend each other, but they could easily notice a new face.

As if on cue, the new player looked over to Floyd, making Ace shut up, thinking he’d been overheard. It wasn’t odd for people to center in on Floyd during games: after all, the student was the tallest in the NRC team. However, instead of scowling at him or sneering (as most rivaling teams would), the student smiled and waved, catching Jamil and Ace off guard. Floyd returned the friendly gesture, grinning at the odd newcomer.

Feeling welcome, the RSA player walked over, still smiling. Jamil and Ace awkwardly shuffled away- nope, nope, nope, whatever taunt this person was going to try and bring up before the game, neither were having it. Floyd, however, didn’t move, cheerfully greeting the student.

“Hi! I don’t think we’ve met before, so I thought I’d introduce myself,” they said, sticking out a hand. Floyd shook their hand, tilting his head curiously. What could a rival school student want from him? Well, whatever it was, he was curious. The student introduced themselves, giving him their name and age.

“Oooh, I see! Nice to meet you, little shrimp~” he said, grinning. Other RSA students distanced themselves, scared by Floyd’s sharp teeth. His new friend, however, seemed more interested.

“Waait, your teeth are so cool!” they cheered, peering at him. Floyd laughed; ok, this shrimpy was fun! He liked that! 

The two fell into comfortable conversation; the RSA student seemed to be quite marvelled by Floyd’s origin (there were some merpeople at RSA, but it seemed most of them were the more “traditional” half-fish merfolk; this was the first time they’d seen an eel merman!), and his high-energy seemed to match theirs. By now, both the NRC and RSA team had decided to let the two do whatever: those two being friends wouldn’t really affect the game. The game which was about to start, actually; Floyd and his new friend had to cut their conversation short as they had to go talk and strategize with their respective teams.

“Yo, Floyd, did that RSA brat say anythin’ about their game plan? At least mention their position in the court?” an NRC student said as soon as their team huddled together. Upon hearing him, Floyd’s playful gaze turned harsh, his hand gripping the student’s shoulder tightly.

“Don’t call shrimpy that.” he said, voice uncharacteristically low. Silence fell among the team for a second; then Jamil cleared his throat to gather their attention so they could actually hash out their plan before the game started.

Once the game started, it went like most games: at first, NRC seemed to be in control. The ball seemed to never leave their hands- the sound of sneakers squeaking against the court and the ball bouncing, mixed with calls of “Pass it here!” and “Block him!” filled the gym. Being the tallest, Floyd was hard to block by most RSA players, a fact the NRC team took advantage of plentifully.

Floyd passed the ball to a fellow NRC student, who bolted to try and score a point- the NRC kids cheered as they ran to back him up. However, before he could even get close enough to the other side to shoot his shot, the basketball was slammed out of his hands and taken by an RSA player- Floyd’s new friend- who quickly passed the ball to their team. The NRC student’s frustration was noticeable, since he cursed loudly when he lost his chance.

In a blind rage, he gripped the RSA player’s arm and tried to slam them to the ground, prompting them to yelp and lose their balance. The referee seemed to be looking elsewhere, not noticing the spat ocurring on the side of the court, until the enraged NRC student spoke a bit too loudly.

“You think you’re hot shit, you fucking asshole?” the student growled, as Floyd’s new friend scrambled to get to their feet. “Man, fuck you! You fucking RSA people never want to play fair, always doing whatever to win!”

“Are you crazy?! Since when is taking the ball against the rules?” the shocked RSA player replied, standing up and dusting off their uniform. “Not my fault you’re no good at the game!”

“You’re calling me bad?! I’ll fucking beat you to pieces, you-” his voice was loud as he threatened the confused RSA player. By now, the referee was furiously blowing his whistle, walking over to break up the fight; but before the referee could put a stop to it, the violent NRC student was lifted by the back of his uniform.

“Hey. I thought I told you to not call them that.” he said, gripping the rowdy player’s shirt, lifting them off the ground. 

“F-floyd?!” his new friend seemed a bit shocked by his sudden action- however, the referee quickly broke up the whole ordeal. The game wasn’t called off (it was a friendly game, so it didn’t really matter what the outcome was), but it definitely ended much faster than usual: the tension in the air was... Palpable.

The game ended, with another victory for RSA’s team, much to nobody’s surprise. Everyone was a bit shaken from the sudden outburst, followed by Floyd’s threats- once the game was over, all the RSA students seemed to not celebrate for long, quickly leaving the gym. Except for one, who approached Floyd.

“Oh? It’s the RSA shrimpy!” said Floyd, smiling as the player approached him. “Sorry if I scared you back there~ I just didn’t like what that guy did at all!”

“N-no, it’s ok! I’m grateful, actually! That guy looked like he was gonna punch me if you hadn’t stepped in, hehe...” they replied, giggling nervously. “Um... Hey, is it cool if I give you my number? I’d like to treat you for some coffee or cake later- you know, as thanks!”

“Eeeeh? I’d be really happy! Can I hug you, shrimpy?” asked Floyd in his usual upbeat tone. The RSA student, a bit confused, said a small ‘um yeah’- and suddenly they were being squished by Floyd’s vice grip as he cheered. He’d made a new friend, hadn’t he? He couldn’t wait to go on the promised date.

[pancakebutton]

Teacher X Reader Part III

Summary: In the midst of the hockey season, you learn how to ice skate and play hockey because of Matt and Mr. (T/C). You get a new English teacher who ends up absolutely hating you. And because of certain circumstances, Matt ends up being a big help to Mr. (T/C).

Warnings: Foul Language & Sexual Content

Word Count: 3755

Genre: Romance, Slice of Life, Sexual, Series.

Pairing: Insert Teacher X Reader

A/N: (Y/NN) is your nickname

Masterlist

.

Everyone was still hyped up from the assembly including Mr. (T/C) who still has pieces of string confetti in his hair. After we finally settled, we hadn’t even gotten through half of the lecture done before Allen’s phone went off. He checked it of course, but his eyes went wide and without thinking of where he even was, he showed us his phone.

“Dude look at this! Thomas just got in a fight with Julien Castillo!”

“Thomas who?”

“Thomas (T/L/N)!”

I paused, “wait Mr. (T/C) has a son?”

“No his nephew.”

“Haha look at this! Damn Thomas really got em eh?”

I didn’t notice that Mr. (T/C) was listening the entire time, and he didn’t look pleased.

“Mr. Jones, mind if I take a look?”

Allen looked like he’d seen a ghost, “o-of course sir”.

Mr. (T/C) took Al’s phone and watched the video over, when it ended he sighed.

“That damn kid.”

I nervously tried helping the situation, “I didn’t know you had a sibling (T/C)”. His face of worry and anger dissolved and he seemed to have softened a little.

“Oh yeah, my older brother sure did teach a little fight in his two sons. They go here actually, thanks Allen, I’ll be sure to give him a stern talking to.”

“I didn’t mean to snitch on em sir, promise!”

“I know I know, I won’t tell him I found out through you. Now back to how bills are made.”

The bell rang and I stood to grab my stuff, before we all could leave however, Mr. (T/C) called out,

“Miss Maine, if you wouldn’t mind speaking with me for a few minutes?”

My friends “ooo’d” as they all smiled, Mo winked, and walked out of the classroom.

“Catch ya later (Your Nickname)” Brock teased, and I walked over to his desk.

“Yes sir?”

He leaned back in his chair and smiled.

“It seems I won our bet last night, oh and thanks for volunteering me for that contest so it seems you owe me double the payment in return.”

“What?! Haha that’s not fair Mr. (T/C) I didn't promise a prize for that silly contest.”

“Well a little bird told me you don’t know how to play hockey, my youngest nephew Zach is a goalie for the team and he plays tonight. Wanna stay after and play against me?”

I was taken aback, “I’d love to, but I think that match would be unfair, could I bring my friends with me, just you versus us? I’d love to see that skill of yours. I've heard you played college”. He then chuckled and nodded, “you’ve got yourself a deal then”.

.

The game was tied 3-3 with two minutes left in the third period. Zach had made countless saves and was doing fantastic, both teams seemed evenly matched. I was sitting next to Mo and Kaitlyn, but everyone else was there too, including Allen’s twin sister Ashley. Matt was on the ice, as it was a varsity game, and just slammed number thirty-eight into the boards and the crowd went ballistic. I had also found out that Matt had a younger brother who was a junior this year and was a defenseman like him.

“You got this boys!” I cheered. Since it was just a regular high school hockey game and not a championship, it would have ended in a tie. But with twenty seconds left, Matt’s wrist shot ended up in the back of the net. The crowd erupted in cheers stood for the last seconds of the game, us obviously winning. We waited for the boys to come back out of the locker room to congratulate them as they left. And slowly but surely, everyone left, leaving the empty rink all to ourselves.

“And did you see number nine’s slash on Smith? That should have been called, damn the refs are blind!”

As me and Mo were standing by the boards, waiting for everyone else to get skates, I heard a few new and familiar voices. I turned to see Mr. (T/C) walking towards us, followed by his two nephews.

“Haha I know Tommy it was right in front of me”.

“Sometimes I wish I did hockey just to be a total goon!”

“Okay settle down Thomas, boys these are my two students Morgan and (Y/n).”

Now that I’ve actually gotten to meet them, I noticed how Thomas, the older one, had the same hair color as (T/n) but he had deep blue eyes and was a bit slimmer. And Zach was adorable! He looked just like (T/n) but with much lighter hair.

“Nice to meet you,” Zach greeted. Thomas kinda just looked at me and smirked. He whispered something only (T/n) could hear and nudged him and Mr. (T/C)’s face immediately went red as he quickly shushed him.

“Aye (T/C)! We got some more skates for us, I see you brought your boys as backup?”

“Well, I know I could beat all of you, but it wouldn’t be too fair on my part and why not bring more company”. He then turned to me, “ready to start skating Miss Maine?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

I then made my way towards the ice, Matt was already on it, waiting to catch me in case I decide to fall.

“You got this (Y/n)!” He cheered and I took one step and immediately slipped, but fell into Matt’s arms. I laughed awkwardly, “he heh, thanks Williams”.

“Anytime (L/N).”

Mr. (T/C) coughed behind us, “next time keep your knees slightly bent and your legs shoulders width apart”. I laugh, “thanks (T/C) I’ll be sure to keep that in mind”. I let go of Matt and began trying to skate by myself, but I wasn’t expecting Mr. (T/C) to take my arm and help me as I was leaning a little to the left.

“Th-thanks. So (T/C) what made you like the leafs?”

He smiled as our arms linked and everyone warmed up by skating around or taking shots on Zach.

“I’ve never really had a favorite team, but I’ve always thought the leafs were a good team.”

“And I’m guessing you only like Matthews because he’s an idolized American on a Canadian team that doesn’t like Americans?”

“Bingo.”

I then felt my knees buckle as I hit a rough patch in the ice. But because I was still holding onto (T/C), I ended up bringing him down with me.

“Sorry Mr. (T/C)”. I then realized the position we were in. I was underneath him as his hands ended up on both sides of my head. Thomas, seeing the entire situation, then called out, “I know you’re a hands on teacher uncle (T/n), but you don’t need to be THIS handsy!”

Mr. (T/C)’s cheeks began to dust pink as he swiftly got us both back on our feet.

“It’s fine (Y/n) I should have caught you. Well on the bright side you’re getting the hang of it.”

“Yeah barely, I’m as fast as an old man!”

“Haha, well it will make playing against you even more fun.”

“At least I have teammates to pull through for me.”

We laughed and agreed to start the game. Of course I was slower than everyone else, but it was a lot of fun. I cross-checked (T/C) and slashed his stick, which I knew I wasn’t supposed to do but I was just having fun and (T/C) enjoyed my weak jabs.

“Gettin’ a little feisty huh Miss Maine?”

“Haha yep, I’d drop my gloves if I had some...and if I weren’t fighting you.”

“Why not me?”

“You’re like a brick wall! It’s literally impossible for such an inexperienced player like me to get the puck from the expert you!”

This made him laugh and my heart fluttered. I loved his laugh. I loved the way he teased me. God I need to get a grip. Theo then skated up to me and told me we were having a team huddle. Kaitlyn was our goalie, Theo and Matt were on my line and we had Beau, Allen, and Ashley on the bench. (T/C) took Brock and Matt’s brother Nick.

“We need to do the Flying V” Theo half whispered to the huddle. Matt then chuckled, “yeah like they won’t see that one coming”. I laughed too but agreed it would be a fun gesture and we decided to do it. Us three skate behind the net and slap our sticks down on the ice while chanting like they did in the movie. I looked over at (T/C) who was smiling ear to ear as he had already known what we were doing.

We then take off with me in the center with the puck, Theo to my left, and Matt to my right.

“The Flying V!!!” We all yell as we collide with (T/C)’s team. Matt takes his brother, leaving Theo with Brock and me with (T/C). But I anticipated him easily taking my puck, so I went to the left like I normally do, but I sneaked the puck to the right at the last minute and it passes between (T/C)’s legs. I decked around him and got back to the puck and shot and it went right past Zach into the net.

I then cheered, “It worked it worked!” thus causing Mr. (T/C) to laugh.

“You know you’re still losing 1-9 right?”

“Ugh, whatever! I still scored against you (T/C) and that’s all I need. Now I think it’s about time we went home, I’m pooped.”

Everyone agreed it was getting late and we should’ve gone home.

As we gathered all our stuff, Matt grumbled to himself.

“Forgot my damn phone in the locker room again! Ugh good thing they haven’t locked it yet, I’ll be right back guys.”

Then he ran off into the boys locker room.

“You guys go on ahead, I’ll wait for Matt” I offer followed by nods and goodbyes. I ended up standing around for about fifteen minutes before getting concerned.

What did he use the bathroom and fall in or something?

I knock on the locker room door with no response from the other side.

“Matt?...Matt come on I need to go home.”

Silence.

I huff and decide to just go in, it’s not like anyone else is in there and he was just looking for a phone not getting undressed. I look around and find him looking through a locker in the back.

“Jesus Matt are you deaf or something?”

Matt jumped, not expecting my arrival, “God (Y/n) don’t scare me like that! Haha sorry the walls are soundproof, don’t want the other team hearing our game plan”. I smile, letting it go.

“I hope you don’t mind me in here.”

“Not at all, I actually needed to talk to you-ah! Found it! Perfect timing too.”

I was taken aback, “what is it you needed to talk about?”

He paused, like he was contemplating telling me what was really on his mind.

“...you did really good for your first time skating.”

I was slightly disappointed, but still wanted to play along, “oh is that a compliment Williams?” He laughed, “yeah don’t get used to it (Y/L/N).” Then he grabbed his stuff and began walking out and I followed.

Once out, there by the bleachers was Mo who was at first smiling, but it slowly dropped.

“(Y/n)! You forgot your keys in my bag...what were you both doing in the men’s locker room?”

That’s what she was worried about.

“Thanks Mo, oh and I was just helping Matt look for his phone haha...Well I’m gonna go now, bye.”

I quickly sped off in hopes the shorter amount of time spent around her would keep me from looking like a threat to Mo. I knew she liked him and I didn’t wanna ruin that for them both.

.

I sat at my desk filing through the latest assignment as it was six-thirty in the morning. I got to (Y/n)’s paper and immediately regretted it. It was impossible to get her off of my mind, again. I then remember what Luke, one of my buddies, had told me about writing your thoughts and feelings about something to get it off of your chest. Might as well try it right?

Nothing.

I couldn’t find any words to describe her.

‘Dear (Y/N),

Words can’t even describe what you do to me. Your voice is like a gentle breeze that billows over the ocean tides. Your eyes twinkle in amazement and interest one like the stars in the sky or snow falling on a child’s nose. Being around you is like a drunk to alcohol, always wanting more and more until I feel like I can’t live without you. You’re smart, caring, loving, kind, I could go on and on like a senator giving a filibuster. I feel like I don’t deserve you in a way. When I was your age, I could barely hold a conversation with a girl, God I was such a dork. Even now, you’re still out of my league, out of my reach. Wishing you were mine to hold.’

And so it came.

I sighed and rub my eyes trying to ease my mile a minute thoughts. I decided taking a quick walk would clear my head, so I stood and walked out of the classroom.

Today is going to be terrible if this keeps up, I don’t know how much longer I can take her not being close to me.

I turned a corner to stop for a drink and kept going.

Maybe I should offer her extra credit so she can spend more time with me. Gah! No no that’s not fair to all the other capable students. What to do, what to do-

I reach back to my classroom, only to find Matt holding the key paper to the quiz we were supposed to take today.

“Matthieu Williams what in the hell do you think you’re doing young man?!”

He jumped and threw the papers back on the desk and stuttered, “N-nothing sir...Fuck you caught me Mr. (T/C), I’m sorry it won’t happen again.”

“I could get you kicked off the team for this you know.”

“And I could get you in some serious trouble with this letter you wrote about (Y/N).”

My eyes went wide and I stepped back a bit.

“...what are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb Mr. (T/C) it’s literally addressed to her.”

I glare at the kid and walk over towards him to take the papers back before he could use them against me, only for him to pull it away. Damn tall kids these days.

“And it seems you’ve caught me as well Mr. Williams. Now what will we do about that?”

“I’ve got a boon for you (T/C). You give me an A on this test and forget I was looking at the papers, and I’ll forget about seeing that letter.”

I pause and consider my situation. There was no other option, “fine. Now hand me the paper please.” Matt then finally returned my letter, so much for those. Matt’s face then went smug.

“You know (T/C) I feel the same way, what you wrote about (Y/N) that is.”

I could feel my face heat up with anger, causing me to grab Matt by the collar.

“Now you listen here you little-”

“Hey! Hey! Let me finish! I was going to say, I had liked her in the past, but it seemed she was a little distracted by you. I can tell she likes you (T/C) and I wanna help you.”

I let go of his shirt and step away, “and why would you help me?”

“Because even though I thought the same things you do about her and she obviously doesn’t return those feelings because of you, she’s still like a sister to me. And I really wanna see her happy.”

I raised my eyebrows in confusion, but it fades as I realized the answer.

“You like Morgan instead huh?”

He paused, “yeah, I didn’t notice it at first but the reason I’m letting (Y/n) go is because I found someone else I guess. But now to you, how long has this been going on?”

“What me favoring (Y/n)? Since she first walked in. I don’t know though, I’m not older than her by too much, but if I confess to her and she turns me down, she could tell someone and get me in trouble. And if she says yes, it’ll be hard to keep our relationship a secret.”

Matt leaned back against a desk and crossed his arms.

“And so what? If she is really worth all this to you, then tell her that. You’re her favorite teacher and she talks about you all the time and I’m sure she shares your feelings. If you don’t try then you’ll regret it I promise you that, and in all honesty I think you’re running out of time. Lots of guys are pursuing her and it’s only a matter of time before she caves because you took too long.”

I lowered my head knowing he was right and sighed.

“Fine then. Got any ideas as to how I can tell her correctly?”

Matt smiled and set his hand on my shoulder.

“I’ve asked tons of girls out before, you’re in good hands.”

.

Morgan had told me to meet her on the second floor classroom commons which was basically just a lounge around the counselor’s office. She didn’t tell me why or give any details so I was kinda rushing, causing me to turn a corner a little too sharply and bump into a teacher I didn’t know.

“Gosh I’m so sorry miss, here let me get that for you.”

“Oh thank you honey, where are you headed to in such a hurry?”

“Oh just worried for a friend.”

“Ah I see, what was your name again darling? I didn’t catch it, I'm Miss Crossland.”

“Oh I’m (Y/n), nice to meet you.”

I held out my hand but she just stared at it, looked up, and glared at me.

“You should watch where you’re going miss. Good day to you.” And then she walked off. I let my hand fall back into my pocket.

Rude ass bitch.

And I quickly walked towards Mo.

The second semester started tomorrow and here I was sitting in front of my computer screen staring at my schedule in awe. I had a new English teacher. Miss Crossland. Great. I groan and fall back onto my pillows as I try getting some sleep. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that my final semester as a senior was going to be hell because of her, and I don’t even know why she hates me.

Morning came and I walked into my first class which was math, and started counting down the minutes until I’d have to endure Miss stuck up. Finally the bell rang and I felt my feet drag as I got closer and closer to her classroom, which was surprisingly right across the hall from my next period with Mr. (T/C). Thank God I still had his class.

“Miss (Y/n) nice to see you not bumping into people this time. Your seat is at the front closest to my desk.”

I didn’t say anything back, too busy silently cursing her under my breath, and rolled my eyes after passing her. I looked over at my desk locked eyes with Matt in the desk right next to mine and immediately felt better.

“Thank our lord and savior Jesus Christ you’re here.”

Matt laughed, “what’s got you all worked up?”

“Oh nothing except for the fact that Miss Crossland already hates me and I have no clue as to why.”

Matt looked at me with concern.

“What did you do?”

“Absolutely nothing! I helped her pick up papers one day and told her my name and that’s all it took!”

He threw his head back and laughed, “maybe she knew someone she didn’t like who had your name too.”

“I guess, I don’t care just as long as I don’t have any problems with her.”

But of course we ended up with problems. She critiqued every little thing I did from my writing to my outfits. She was basically calling me a dumbass whore every day.

“What do you mean? This paragraph has no more clutter to get rid of Miss, this is the third time I’ve edited this particular section.”

I was currently fighting her over a damn essay that she decided to give a ‘C’ because of my terrible writing. I’ve edited everything she’s instructed, but to no avail, she keeps finding more things. I’m pretty sure she only tells me a quarter of the things wrong with my paper so I keep coming back more and more frustrated.

And damn was I getting frustrated.

“You can’t use infinitives and you forgot to delete all the conjunctions. Now get away from my desk, I don’t need your stench all over me.”

I clench my fist holding my paper reaching my limit.

“That would have been nice to know when you half-ass graded my paper Miss!”

“Watch your tone young lady! You will see me after class and that will be the end of it.”

I huff and sat down glaring a storm while endless curses spewed about my mind. The bell rang and I stayed seated, my gaze never leaving hers.

“Why do you hate me?”

She smirked and kicked her legs up on her desk.

“Oh don’t pretend like you don’t know you damn slut.”

My chair screeched behind me as I quickly stood. I despised people who called me or any women that.

“You’re one to talk.”

“I know you’re messing around with Mr. (T/C), I watch you basically throwing yourself onto him and I don’t appreciate whores messing with what’s mine!”

She also stood. Our eyes locked like we were in some sort of battle.

“How dare you assume such a thing! Mr. (T/C) is my favorite teacher and nothing more.” I couldn’t even comprehend what happened. All I remember is closing my eyes and reaching for my cheek that stung immensely.

She slapped me.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Dragonology | Charlie Weasley x femHufflepuff!Reader Part 2.

Warnings: Romance, kissing, alcohol, dragons

Part 1

DRAGONOLOGY FAQ

*5 years prior*

The morning of the championship match you immersed yourself in your teammates, though the excited Hufflepuffs weren’t enough of a distraction to keep your eyes from flickering across the Great Hall to the splash of red hair at the Gryffindor table. You refocused your attention to your team, noticing the quiet of the second-year chaser sitting next to you.

“Are you nervous?” you asked, putting another sausage on your plate. He glanced up at you with wide eyes before shaking his head uncertainly.

“It’s ok to be nervous, to be honest I am a little too,” you shrugged.

“Why are you nervous, (y/n)? Shouldn’t you be our fearless leader?” One of the fourth years on the team asked. You laughed at their innocence.

“A fearless leader would be unrealistic. It’s possible to be a good leader and still be afraid. This is the biggest match of my career. I’m excited, for sure, and I’ll be proud of us all no matter the outcome, but I’m still just a little nervous. It’s human,” you reminded your younger teammates.

“(y/n)’s right. We’re all human. And all of you humans should get down to the locker room in the next hour or you’ll be late. (y/n), a word?” The other Hufflepuff beater, Callum, appeared at your left shoulder. Callum was also a seventh year, and the two of you had been protecting your teammates from bludgers in tandem for the past five years. You stood up from the table and followed him out of the Great Hall and started heading towards the Quidditch pitch.

“How are you feeling?” Callum asked once you were outside.

“Nervous, like I said, but excited. You?”

“Nervous, definitely. Excited, also. Biggest match of our careers, huh?” he pondered into the crisp air.

“Not if you go pro,” you nudged him with your elbow.

“Now who’s being unrealistic?”

“You’re good enough, I’m sure a league would have a spot for you,” you explained.

“Eh, I’m only as good as I am thanks to you. Won’t be the same if you aren’t the other person holding the bat,” Callum grinned.

“How sweet, you going to tell all the ladies you meet at MACUSA that you had a crush on your teammate for five years?” you teased. Callum laughed loudly, bumping his shoulder into yours.

“Only if I can tell them that I had a crush on Charlie too, the two of you are a certified ‘Power Couple’. You going to be ok playing against him today?” Callum’s tone lowered.

“It’s no different than any other time we’ve played against each other the last three years,” you shrugged.

“Except this is the final. And the last match of your careers. And you’re both respectively the best players your houses have ever had.” Callum started listing off all the reasons why you wouldn’t be ok playing against your boyfriend of three years.

“Yeah, we discussed all of that the other night-“

“I don’t want to hear about your pillow talk!” You rolled your eyes.

“If we win, I will be proud of our team. If we lose, I’ll still be proud of our team for getting this far and I’ll be proud of him. Our relationship will be fine.”

“That’s good to know, but if I need to beat him up with my bat let me know, ok?”

“Of course. You’ll be the first person I go to.” Having made it to the locker room, you opened up your locker and pulled out the yellow robes. You discarded the yellow sweater you were wearing, keeping up the friendly chatter with Callum as the rest of your teammates joined you and dressed for the match.

Right before it was time for you to enter the tunnel to the pitch, you pulled your team into a huddle.

“Whatever happens today on that pitch, I want you all to know I’m proud of you. Hufflepuff hasn’t gotten this far in the cup in years. We were an underdog in every way and we made it here by fighting tooth and nail. Every minute of that game is representative of who we are as a team. Gryffindors can be intimidating sometimes, but listen to me. You deserve to be there just as much as they do. I believe in each and every one of you, now let’s go show the school why badgers are the best.” Your teammates cheered, and you entered the tunnel to wait to be told to enter the pitch.

After a few minutes of listening to the cheers of the spectators, you mounted your brooms and flew around the pitch. You settled yourself in the center, next to Madam Hooch. The Gryffindors were then announced, and the bright red head of hair that had been distracting you all morning was easy to spot as it sped around the pitch and settled in front of you.

“This will be a clean game. You both have been here long enough to know what I expect. Keep your teams in line. Understood?” You and Charlie both nodded, your eyes finally meeting his. You both broke into giant smiles as you reached out to shake his hand. Charlie gave your hand a squeeze, the only physical contact between the two of you in two days. You moved away from the center of the pitch to your respective positions, and Madam Hooch started the game.

The game itself was fast and intense. It had been a while since you had played with bludgers moving so fast, you and Callum were doing everything you could to keep your players on their brooms. Gryffindor’s beaters were younger and less experienced, but played with the same reckless confidence as any other Gryffindor. You and Callum were known for your accuracy and cooperation, which was really being put to the test as the Gryffindors were sending back anything you sent at them with quick force.

Your whole team knew that it was almost guaranteed Charlie would catch the snitch. Your seeker, Maeve Henry, was a sixth year who was a very good player and accepted that Charlie was better but would still try her best. It was up to your chasers to make up the difference in points that Gryffindor would gain with the snitch.

For the first part of the game, both teams were trading goals. Then, the Gryffindor chasers pulled a few formations out of their sleeves and put themselves up by a few goals. In a moment of calm, you noticed a shift, so you kicked your broom into gear.

“Callum, the wind!” you passed by your teammate close enough that he could hear you as you moved yourself in the path of a bludger heading for your youngest chaser. There was a very satisfying crack as your bat made contact, sending the ball spinning. In the lull of the game, you had noticed a shift in the wind. It had picked up speed, and was making a difference in the way the players broomsticks were moving. Veterans of the game, you and Callum had mastered using the wind to your advantage while the Gryffindor beaters were having trouble connecting clearly with the bludgers. As they began misjudging their positioning, you were just getting started. Hufflepuff was able to score four more goals during this chaos, bringing the game back to about even.

It felt like you had been in the air forever. Your players were getting tired, you could tell, and the game was starting to get sloppy.

“Cool it,” you reminded your keeper after he got heated about the validity of a goal Gryffindor had just scored. You scanned the pitch for the bludgers, noticing one heading low towards one of your chasers. At the same time, you saw the familiar mop of red hair accelerate upwards, towards a tiny glint of gold. You sped up, bat extended. You knew what had to happen.

“What a play! Ladies and gents this is truly a battle of the best of the best! Weasley would have had the snitch if (y/l/n/) had not sent that bludger so perfectly placed between him and his goal! I’m sure she’ll hear about that later tonight, if you know what I mean-“ the game’s announcer, a Ravenclaw named Bentley, was reprimanded by Professor Mcgonagall.

Due to the direction of the bludger, Charlie was forced to turn at the last minute giving the snitch enough time to disappear into the pitch again.

Your attention was pulled to knocking a bludger away from your chasers, and as you settled into a new position on the pitch you felt a warm presence hover closer to you.

“That was cheeky,” Charlie said nonchalantly.

“Wasn’t going to let you win that easily,” you quipped.

“Make a bet with me?” His eyes were scanning the pitch for the snitch, your eyes were focused on the bludgers.

“Sure, what did you have in mind?”

“If you win, butterbeers on me this weekend. If we win, butterbeers on you.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Weasley,” you shot him a quick grin before peeling away to hit a bludger.

You and Callum were able to intercept the opposing chasers long enough for your team to get ahead in points before the snitch was spotted again, this time by your seeker. You kept her in your peripherals, still watching chasers and bludgers from the other side of the pitch. Hufflepuff only needed to score four more goals to negate the points that Gryffindor could get from Charlie catching the snitch, but you were still holding out hope your seeker would do her job as well as she had been all season.

“It looks like Henry has spotted the snitch! This could mean a win for Hufflepuff! Wait- what’s she doing?” Bently’s voice echoed around the arena. As you were tracking a bludger, you noticed Maeve come to an abrupt halt high above the pitch. Charlie was nowhere near her.

“As quickly as she spotted it, it seems as though Henry has lost the snitch!”

All you saw after that was a blur of red, then the game stopped and there was Charlie. His arm was outstretched, with thin golden wings fluttering feebly between his fingers.

“WEASLEY HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH, GRYFFINDOR WINS! THIS IS QUIDDITCH HISTORY FOLKS!”

From across the pitch, you admired your boyfriend’s confident grin. His eyes found yours, and his expression softened. You gave him a “I’m proud of you” smile, then turned on your broom to comfort your teammates as his team surrounded him.

“I’m still proud of you guys,” you reminded your sullen teammates in the locker room afterwards as you were hanging up your robes and pulling your thick sweater over your shoulders.

“But we lost,” the second years piped up.

“You all just played the best game of Quidditch I’ve ever been a part of. That’s something to be proud of. I am honored to have captained a team who can play at this quality.” The younger players perked up a little, leaving the locker room talking about their best plays of the game. Callum came up behind you and slung his arm over your shoulder as you watched them leave.

“Well, no more Quidditch for us,” he said with a satisfied sigh.

“I don’t think that’s true. With Charlie in my life there’s no way I’m escaping that easily. And I’m still holding out for you going pro.”

“You think so? (y/n), you’re a better player than I am and everyone knows it. If anyone were to go pro it would be you.”

“You’re a hard worker and a good player. If you were given the opportunity it would not be wasted. It has been a pleasure playing with you, Callum,” you were sincere.

“I could go to the Quidditch World Cup and it still would not compare to the five years we played here.”

“Agreed.”

You were both silent for a moment.

“I’m heading back up to the castle, are you coming?” Callum finally spoke.

“I’m going to stay out here for a while, I’ll be up soon.” Callum nodded, patting you on the shoulder as he left. You wandered back onto the pitch, laying down on the grass in the middle of the field and staring up at the sky. After ten minutes of you laying there alone, someone joined you, laying down in the grass to your left.

“Thought you’d be here,” Charlie said, taking your left hand in his right and tracing over it. You kept your eyes on the clouds passing overhead.

“Thought you’d be in Gryffindor Tower celebrating.”

“I made an appearance, nobody will notice I’m gone. I had more important things to attend to anyways.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Had to get back at you for distracting me that whole game,” you could hear the grin on Charlie’s face as he dropped your hand.

“Distracting you?”

“You just looked so beautiful hitting bludgers at my friends, I had to keep reminding myself to stop looking at you and start looking for the snitch so I could end the game and finally get my arms around you again,” Charlie’s fingers moved to your stomach, tickling you lightly.

You pushed his hands away, stifling a giggle, “that was awfully cheesy, Charles.”

“I’m just glad we’re done playing Quidditch against each other. This whole ‘not seeing each other the day before and day of a match’ is getting old. I want to see you every day, all the time.”

“I want that too,” you said quietly.

“Really?” Charlie got excited, you could hear it in his voice.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you laughed, turning on your side to face him.

“This is going to sound crazy, but hear me out. There’s a dragon sanctuary in Romania, Hagrid knows someone who works there and he said they have a few positions opening up. Let’s move to Romania once we’re done here and work with dragons and love each other forever.” You could tell by the look in Charlie’s bright eyes that he was serious.

“Let’s do it,” you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. Charlie was so ecstatic that he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you fully on the lips.

“Guess I owe you butterbeer, huh?” you said once you broke apart.

“You just agreed to move to Romania and work with dragons with me, that’s even better than butterbeer.” Charlie sighed happily, running his hands through your hair as you settled on his chest.

“How was your team afterwards?” Charlie broke the comfortable silence that was sitting between you.

“They were upset, of course. It was such a good game though, they had a lot of good memories that outshine the loss.”

“It’s because they have such a good captain,” Charlie pinched your cheeks between his fingers.

“Whatever you’re doing in practice has been working, your beaters were much stronger this year than they were last year,” Charlie laughed at your comment, his chest expanding with each breath.

“You and Callum are the strongest team of beaters in the whole school.” Now it was your turn to laugh.

“I think he’s going to go pro.”

“Doesn’t he already have a job squared away at MACUSA?” Charlie knew quite a lot about Callum, since he was the person you spent the most time with after Charlie.

“Yes, but I think the Irish national team would be dumb not to take him as soon as they have a beater spot open up.”

“If Callum plays for Ireland and they go to the World Cup we’ll go to the match, ok?”

“Even if we’re in Romania?”

“Especially if we’re in Romania. Mum would kill me if we didn’t visit from time to time. We can take the kids to the match with us.” Charlie explained as if it was obvious.

“I like talking about the future with you, about having a future with you,” you said contently.

“Shall we head back up to the castle and talk about our future there? I need some food and I’m sure you do too,” Charlie suggested. You stood up and pulled Charlie to his feet, giving him another kiss there in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Previous Part | Next Part

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E1; Chapter One, MADMAX - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

As the town preps for Halloween, a high-scoring rival shakes things up at the arcade. Will begins seeing strange visions as the anniversary of his disappearance creeps up.

||Reader's POV||

"To slay the dragon, use the magic sword."

"Oh, Jesus! I'm in uncharted territory here, guys."

"Down! Down! Down!"

"I'm going! I'm going!"

The cartoon woman on the screen exclaimed as the game picked up speed. All of surrounded Dustin, cheering him on as he played.

"I'm going! I'm going! I'm going!"

The boys yelled over one another as I stood on my toes to try and get a better look at the screen.

"Okay. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!" Dustin bellowed as he slammed his hands on the buttons, but then the disappointing sounds from the machine indicated he had lost.

Dustin began taking out his anger on the machine, kicking as he screamed profusely at it.

Meanwhile, the screen returned to the original title screen, inviting its next player. Lucas began to goat at Dustin.

"You're not nimble enough. But you'll get there one day. But until then, Princess Daphne is still mine."

"Whatever. I'm still top on Centipede and Dig Dug."

"You sure about that?"

We all turned our heads to see one of the younger employees, Keith. He was standing there with a bag of cheese puffs and an awkward smirk.

Dustin's face dropped as he asked the question we all seemed to know the answer to.

"Sure about what?"

Keith only smiled and took a large rather obnoxious bite out of a cheese puff.

Dustin broke out into a panicked sprint and we all quickly followed suit, curious to see the outcome.

"Move! Move! No, no, no, no, no. Hey, no! No! No!"

We all zeroed in on the Dig Dug screen where sure enough, Dustin held second place to someone named MADMAX who held an insanely good score.

"751,300 points!" Will exclaimed, turning and sharing a disbelieving look with one another.

It was then that Mike chimed in. "That's impossible."

"Wow, you really have your work cut out for you." I said, with a hint of a smile on my face as I patted my brother's back.

He only ripped his shoulder away from me, clearly annoyed and turned to Keith.

"Who is Mad Max?"

"Better than you."

"Is it you?" Will asked.

Keith scoffed. "You know I despise Dig Dug."

"Then who is it?"

"Yeah, spill it Keith."

"You want information, then I need something in return," he smirked and looked at Mike.

It took me a second to realize what was being implied. When it hit me, I fought the urge to through up in my mouth.

"Gross!"

"No, no, no. No way. You're not getting a date with her"

"Mike, come on. Just get him the date."

"I'm not prostituting my sister!"

"But it's for a good cause."

"Oh, so what? Does this mean you're gonna have Dustin pimp me out whenever you need a favor?"

"Well, I mean,"

"Lucas!" My voice starts to reach higher octaves and I feel Will's hand grab my own.

I give his hand a light squeeze, silently thanking him and my attention was brought back to the conversation when Dustin spoke up.

"No, don't get him the date. Know what? He's gonna spread his nasty-ass rash to your whole family." Thrown off by the sudden direction that conversation headed, I sighed, releasing Will's hand and running both hands through my hair.

"Acne isn't a rash and it isn't contagious you pubescent wastoid." Keith threw back.

"Oh, I'm a wastoid? She wouldn't go out on a date with you. You make, like, what? $2.50 an hour?"

"Nice perm."

"Gonna make fun of my hair?"

I sighed, knowing we were gonna be here a while.

Suddenly, a voice caught my attention.

"Hey. Hey, guys, do you see the..." I frowned when I saw he was standing over by the front door, looking around the arcade curiously.

"Yeah?" I asked walking forward.

But he only looked right through me. I could tell he was now on edge.

"Will?"

Suddenly, he let out a frightened gasp and whipped around to face the door. My stomach dropped.

"Will? Hey, come on." My breathing began to pick up, I risked a glance at the boys but they were too distracted in their argument and it was far too loud. 

That's when Will began to walk outside. Not wanting to lose him or let him get hurt I quickly followed him.

"Will, hey, it's me, come on." He stopped when he reached the edge of the sidewalk and he stood still, rooted in place. He looked to the sky in terror. I looked over my shoulder only to see nothing but the stars, and I looked back to him. He was still frozen.

I shakily brought my hands up to his shoulders. "Will!"

He gasped and I could tell he was back. Without even thinking, I engulfed him in a hug, and he shakily returned it. I pulled back to look at him and I touched his cheek. "Are you okay?"

His eyes lingered on me and he nodded his head. I was now very aware of the fact that my hand was still on his cheek and I quickly pulled away, a little flustered. There was a moment of silence and then I looked back up at him, knowing on some level what it was about.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He looked away for a moment, before shaking his head.

"I'm fine. I'd rather not, at least not right now."

I smiled reassuringly. "That's completely okay. I get it." I glanced down at his hand before taking it in my own and together we headed back into the arcade.

+++

"That's what's I've been saying! I'm telling you, she may be a teacher, but that doesn't give her any right to treat kids like that!"

"Yes, exactly! Thank you! Hey so do you Haney plans for Halloween?"

Emma was a great friend I had made in the dirty trenches of math class where a solid bond was formed. The two of us were currently walking down the hallway, discussing the horrors that was last class.

"I do actually, yeah me and the guys are going together.  They're gonna be the Ghostbusters and I..." I trailed off when I saw Will up ahead.

He was standing at his locker, looking around rather disturbed with something in his hands.

Hesitating to take my eyes off of him I reluctantly looked to Emma. "Hey, can we talk later? I'm sorry, it's just, I think I need to check on him,"

"Oh yeah, no problem. I'll see you later!"

I threw her a grateful smile as she walked away and then I hurried over to Will.

"Will! Hey, everything okay?"

His head whipped around to face me and he seemed a bit startled to see me. I gently put a hand on his shoulder in reassurance and that seemed to calm his nerves.

"Oh, um, yeah I'm okay." He quickly folded up a small piece of paper that didn't go unnoticed.

"You sure?" He nodded his head and smiled warmly at me causing my stomach to do little flips.

"So, what's that?"

"It's nothing," he said and I raised my eyebrows, not quite believing him. "really. 

I'm okay."

"Okay, well in that case, should we head to science?" I smiled and held ou.t my hand shyly and he gladly took it.

+++

"Meet the human brain," Mr. Clarke said, placing the model before us.

"I know. I know, it doesn't look like much.  A little gross even, right? But consider this. There are a hundred billion cells inside of this miracle of evolution.  All working as one,"

I was hanging onto every word, fascinated much like my other friends. I looked to Will excitedly but he didn't even seem to be paying attention. Something was definitely bothering him. My face fell when I saw this, unintentionally tuning oh Mr. Clarke as well in the process.

I turned the boy and was about to say something when the abrupt sound of the classroom door closing grabbed my attention. Everyone seemed to look to the front when the principles walked in with a girl our age.

She had fiery red hair and freckles all over her face. She wore jeans and a red sweatshirt. I felt kinda bad for her though, she seemed uncomfortable being the center of attention which Mr. Clarke inevitably put her under the spotlight.

"Ah, this must be our new student."

"Indeed it is.  All yours" with that, the principal left, leaving the awkward introduction of the new student.

She attempted to rush to find seat but Mr. Clarke stopped her. "All right. Hold up. You don't away that easy. Come on up. Don't be shy."

She didn't attempt to hide her eye roll as she backed up to face the class.

"Dustin, drum roll."

Without skipping a beat, my brother began drumming his palms on his desk and 

Mr. Clarke began the introduction.

"Class, please welcome, all the way from sunny California, the latest passenger to join us on our curiosity voyage, Maxine."

The girl shifted uncomfortably before mumbling. "It's Max."

"Sorry?" He asked.

"Nobody calls me Maxine. It's Max." We all looked to each other, thinking the same thing.

"Mad Max." Lucas whispered.

"Well, all aboard Max."

I couldn't fight the smile growing on my face and like the boys, we all couldn't help but watch as she took a seat at the back of the class.

She leaned back and crossed her arms, obviously still uncomfortable from the sudden spotlight. She frowned when she saw all the guys staring at her and turned to Dustin and Lucas and a loose chuckled escaped me. They were practically drooling.

I looked to her once more and she met eye. I made sure send her a small welcoming smile, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable than she already was.

+++

We all stood in the small baseball dugout, watching, well the boys were anyway, Max. She was riding her skateboard all around the campus and we were debating whether or not she could be Mad Max. I had settled on the bench in the dugout, not feeling comfortable to be standing around watching someone.

"There's no way that's Mad Max," Mike stated matter of factly.

"Yeah, girls don't play video games," Will said, catching me by surprise.

I crossed my arms and looked at him. "What's that?"

He seemed to notice his mistake and shuffled uncomfortably.  "Except you, I mean. You're cool," I only raised my eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, you know what I mean though, right?" I laughed, having already forgiven him, but enjoying being able to mess with him.

Dustin brought his fist up to his mouth and spoke through pretend coughs. 

"Whipped."

Will turned to him and whacked his arm and I only giggled.

"Ok, but seriously, regardless you can't get 750,000 on Dig Dug. It's Max impossible," Mike said, still focused on the conversation.

"But her name is Max," Lucas argued.

"So what?"

"So, how many Maxes do you know?"

"I don't know."

"Zero, that's how many,"

Dustin the spoke up. "Yeah, and she shows up to school the day after someone with her name beat our top score,"

"Here's a crazy idea, why don't you ask her?" I chimed, looking up at the boys.

"No, no way! She'll be weirded out,"

"Oh, and stalking the poor girl is doing you everybody so many favors,"

"My point is, I don't even think it's necessary. She gotta be Mad Max, she's gotta be,"

"Plus, she skateboards, so she's pretty awesome," Dustin argued, much to the dismay of Mike.

"Awesome? You haven't even spoken a word to her!"

"I don't have to, I mean look at her. Shit, I've lost the target."

"There," Will said, and we all followed his gaze to the back entrance of the school.

She stood at the top of the steps, and before going inside she dropped a crumpled up piece of paper into the trash.

The boys, looked to each other, silently communicating before simultaneously running towards the trash can much to my dismay.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," I mumble, begrudgingly walking after them.

Sure enough, they began digging through the trash can and by the time I reached them they grabbed the piece of paper.

"Seriously, guys this is a new low," I snatched the piece of paper from them. "It's just garbage,"

"Well, if it's just garbage, then open it," Lucas retorted.

I sighed, looking them in the eye while unfolding it.  "Fine, but only to show how ridiculous you are being, I mean come-" I stopped short when I read the words, a loud belly laugh erupting from me.

"What? Let me see!"

"What?"

"Give it!"

Your laughter died into giggles as you watched their faces fall as they read the words,

"Stop spying on me CREEPS"

They sighed and looked up at me as I stifled my giggles with a hand against my mouth. My hand dropped my side and I sighed, before smirking.

"I like her."

"Well, shit," Dustin sighs.

I feel a pit forming in my stomach when I hear one of the teachers speak. "William Byers, your mother's here," we all turned to face him, and I could immediately feel the anxiety radiating off of him.

I grabbed his hand in mine and I gave it a reassuring squeeze and he squeezed my hand lightly in return as he looked at me.

He was doing it again. He was shutting himself down again.

He gave me a weak smile and without another word, he followed the teacher into the school to get his stuff.

Without even a second thought I walked quickly around the building and the others followed. I peeked around the corner and watched as he walked slowly to the car where his mother was waiting for him greeting him with a smile and a wave.

"You guys think he's okay?" Dustin asked.

"He's always weird when he has to go in,"

"I don't know. He's quiet today," Mike said worriedly.

"He hasn't been himself lately. I ran into him in the hallway and he was acting all weird and secretive."

"Well, you're basically his girlfriend. Has he shared anything with you lately, I mean he tells you everything,"

My face fell and I looked to my feet in sadness before looking back up and watching as he reluctantly got in the car. "That's just it. He hasn't said a word. I think something is really bothering him,"

"And, for the first time, I feel like," I sighed. "I can't help him."

+++

Tag List: @fuckwaad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa@miscellaneoustoasts

DM me if you want to be added!

[twelvesignsrp]

congratulations tabi, cancer is now samuel wade with the faceclaim neels visser

APPLICATION

   Character Sign: Cancer

   Character name: Samuel Wade

   Birthday: 7/7/1997

   Sexuality: bisexual                                                                                        

   Gender: male

   Moon Sign: Pisces Moon – he’s someone who needs fantasy, compassion, escape, and creative outlets more than anything else in the world. he can go a little stir-crazy at times, which is why it’s important for him to have security as well, but he can be extremely hard to pin down and read when he gets into one of his darker moods. sometimes he feels he is best left on his own, even though he wishes he could connect better, but he knows he needs to figure out how to navigate his own soul before he can really reach out to others around him. he is and will always be drawn to artistic, sensual and spiritual pursuits.

   Faceclaim: Neels Visser

   Power: future illustration – it’s not so much any sort of clear image that splashes itself across his mind and forces him to recreate it on any surface available, it’s more like some sort of gut feeling, almost unnoticeable sometimes until he’s practically finished with it. the urge to draw or paint something is as familiar and ingrained in him as the need to breath or his body’s need for blood from his heart—it’s something stuck just beneath the layers of his skin, and he doesn’t even think about it until he looks down and realizes he’s drawn something that ends up coming true a little while later. he does it without thinking most of the time, but then there are a few dark midnights, sleepless nights when the kaleidoscope mess tries to seep out through his fingertips, the drive to create something much stronger than his need to sleep. the talent for art has always been there inside of him, the magic just decided to adhere itself to that.

   What do they study? Art Appreciation

   Biography:

rule 1: schizophrenia is hereditary.

you wouldn’t think that to look at Marie Mason though, as she smiles and walks slowly down the aisle to marry the man who has stolen her heart and all her inhibitions and reservations about love. they’ve thrown themselves into this wedding, adored each other endlessly, despite the family secret she keeps from him, hoping on every star in the sky and any god in heaven that somehow, maybe the curse will pass her by unaffected. maybe their love is stronger than her genetics, maybe his kiss will break the evil spell, the ticking time-bomb on her mind. and after all, doesn’t everyone deserve a happy, fairytale ending? the Beatles sang “all you need is love” and they both agree wholeheartedly, because this feels absolute between the two of them. there is nothing that can get in the way of their union.

rule 2: love is not stronger than madness.

no one bears the brunt of her mental decay as much as her first-born son Samuel, especially in the first seven years of his life. he learns to run quickly, hide perfectly, play games that make no sense and have no rules. he has to think on his feet, tell stories without endings, anything he can do to please her, to help her, to make her love him—or at least remind her that she once did love him. it comes and goes sometimes, and he suffers in school for it, despite how much money his father pours into his education.

what father doesn’t seem to understand is that, yes, she does have many good, long stretches of sanity, weeks when she is fine, she is stable, she is operational, and Samuel enjoys these times because that’s when their family love dynamic actually feels real. but those times never really last long enough, they are just the minute gasps for breaths the universe takes before exploding again. his mother and his little brother, younger by three years, and him can all go to the park and have picnics, and he doesn’t have to think about how Jacob is already a better reader than he is. Jacob is better at a lot of things, but Samuel’s sheer amount of personality ensures his place as older brother. he can also draw better than anyone else in his class, but no one is as much a fan of his work as Jacob is, and Samuel is sure that nothing in the world can break the two of them apart.

that’s why when the doctors finally come and take their mother away while she is screaming and thrashing around, like a demon straight out of hell, Samuel holds onto Jacob’s hand tight enough that neither of them have to notice that their father can’t even look at them. Samuel is terrified that one day he’ll grow up to be as cold and distant as that man, but he’s even more scared about his mother’s genetic lotto win taking root in him.

rule 3: nothing in this world is in your control.

caution: contents are hot. he lets himself ride the waves of adolescence, boiling over with too much freezer-burn chemicals. like a sunflower, he is all brightness on the outer rim, the edges of him oozing glamour and laughter and just enough coyness to keep others interested, but in the center is dark, dark inflorescence, drying and dying out in the sun. he can feel himself changing as puberty takes over, shifting him into the kind of boy who stares at other people too long and lets himself fall into chaos too quickly. he falls in love too hard and lets it drive him to the edge of his mental cliff time and time again, because maybe if he gets used to it out here, it won’t be so bad when he finally tumbles down off it. he lives his life in fear of madness, which gives him a bit of wild freedom, but mostly just makes him want to cave in on himself.

his turmoil breathes life into the only part of him left that’s still beating; drawing and painting. he spends hours on it, creates everything from abstract memories of dreams to landscapes and fruits. it’s an incredibly forgiving art, but nothing about that sentiment lets him sleep a full night through, unburdened by nightmares.

his father comes to him one day after he’s turned eighteen and tells him he expects good grading scores from his high school so that he can enroll in a well-accredited university next fall—a university that has already been picked out for him. Samuel hadn’t intended to go to college, actually, because he wanted to start selling his art as soon as possible, but he doesn’t have the means or support system around him to venture off on his own, the way he wishes he did. he’s too easily persuaded to attend, but he manages to hold his own when it comes to which classes to choose. his father wants him to become a doctor, and follow in his footsteps of becoming a surgeon. for that entire summer, he starts bringing his oldest son to his hospital with him, making him watch the surgeries sometimes, hoping that the drive to cut people open and fix them will somehow seep into Samuel via osmosis. it’s total hell to the eighteen-year-old, and it doesn’t convince him to change his college schedule at all.

rule 4: with great power comes great responsibility.

not very far into his experience at durham, things begin to change. at first, he thinks “this is it, i’m finally losing it,” when he sees the exact same car-wreck scene on the news as what he had drawn earlier that morning. he thinks maybe it’s a coincidence, maybe a fluke, maybe some kind of déjà vu. he sets the picture on fire and smokes a cigarette as he watches it burn, his heart pounding in his chest, the fear like freezing fingers wrapping around his lungs, suffocating him. it’s not long though before it happens again, and again, and again—the things he draws becoming real somehow, and he begins to worry whether he’s drawing the future or creating it through his drawings.

it takes about a month or two, after he really starts taking action based on the paintings and drawings, that he realizes he is shaping only one version of the future, and that by simply knowing about it and doing something with that knowledge, it can be changed; which is a huge relief. so he starts acting on his abilities, working to fix whatever seems wrong, warn whoever he needs to, avoid the pitfalls he can see coming. he very rarely anymore draws the things he wants to, but it’s okay because this is more important anyway, and his skills at detail and coloring are getting better, sharper, clearer.

but with each new picture he puts his whole soul into, he feels it leave him just a little bit more. it’s a well-known fact that talent and survival cannot exist harmoniously inside one body; eventually something has to give. nothing is stronger than madness, he controls nothing in this world.

and schizophrenia is hereditary.

   Five interesting facts about your character:

I. he has grown up with a mild form of dyslexia, making him very uncomfortable reading things. he struggled through it all throughout high school, oftentimes bullshitting his way through tests and literature classes. whenever he was called upon to read something from the books, he would always play it off as something silly, like making up the words and story as he went, often getting in minor bits of trouble for it. whenever it was really important that he learn the material, he just looked up youtube videos for it. he still needs to do that sometimes. II. he calls his little brother Jacob every week, just to check up on him. he hates being so far away from his brother, really the only member of his family that he ever connected with. his brother looks up to him a lot, even though Sam has no idea why anyone would. III. he lives off of a steady diet of ramen and code-red mountain dew. he knows he should eat better, but he’s too young to care about health food and he’s been blessed with a fantastic metabolism. plus, he doesn’t know how to cook and he can’t be bothered to learn. IV. he does work out though, whenever he can, and even though his choice of exorcise is boxing mostly, he wishes he could get more into martial arts, like taekwondo or jujitsu. V. secretly loves super nerdy stuff, like anime and comic books, but he tries his best to keep all that under wraps, stuffed into the bottom of one of his pants drawers, because he is scared of what people will think of him if they knew. he wants to be chill, not looked at like he’s crazy.

   Character Quote:

“lie with me under

the sweeping sky that

forgets us

there is no other kind of death

destroy me if you must.”

–inkskinned.tumblr.com

   If your character had a patronus what would it be? and why? his patronus is a dapple-grey stallion. it means his passion for the things he loves is hard to beat, he becomes very involved in his friends, family, hobbies and studies. he can be very sensitive and emotional, getting hurt easily and often feeling melancholy for very little reason. however, this emotional enlightenment allows him to understand others and empathize extremely well, while also being very creative and intelligent.

WRITING SAMPLE

Samuel stared at the lines on the wooden door in front of him, his eyes wide but unmoving– stagnant just like the rest of his entire body. he was supposed to be moving, supposed to be a man of action by now, like he had told himself countless times to be. he’d spent the better part of the morning looking into a mirror, practicing the lines he was about to say, going over what sounds best, the exact type of words to formulate, anything that didn’t sound creepy or desperate. he wanted to be one of those guys who were able to just go after whatever they want, no hesitation, no overthinking.

but he wasn’t. he wasn’t a man of action, he wasn’t a man of anything– he was just standing here in front of his classmate’s door like an idiot, completely immobile because his nervousness had rooted him to her welcome mat. he was supposed to knock on the door ten minutes ago. he should have already gotten this done and over with by now but instead he couldn’t stop staring at the lines in the door and thinking about how heartbroken he was going to be as soon as she rejected him.

she had no idea how hard he’d been working up the courage to do this. how long he’d spent practicing his tone of voice or his smile. he wanted everything to be perfect and if he messed this up…. he might never have forgiven himself. he had already messed up so many other relationships and lost so many opportunities with her already this semester. he wanted to move forward. he wanted to show her how much he liked her.

he slowly inhaled a breath, lifting his fist up to knock on the door, but he couldn’t make contact. maybe he could do this next week. there would still be a next week, right? there was always next week– next month– next year. except what if she moved away or dropped out of school? what if she got a boyfriend? and then he’d have to see them together in the hallways, think about how she liked to be kissed, think about whether she was being treated well enough. he was not keen on this idea.

but knocking on this door was about as easy as fitting his whole arm into his mouth. how did other people seem to do this so damn easily? he always saw it in movies and things, guys being assertive and girls being spunky but accepting. things always worked out in movies though, whereas real life was often messier, especially in those first few steps of a relationship.

relationship? maybe he shouldn’t have been thinking about that word just yet—it was still pretty early. he hadn’t even managed to ask her out yet. hadn’t even knocked on the goddamn door. he huffed again, the nervous fluttering and pounding in his chest only getting worse.

he lifted his fist up again, an inch or two away, when the door suddenly opened and there she was, a bag of trash in her hand, and there he was, his arm raised like an idiot. “i…! oh..! hi..” his palms immediately started sweating as panic set in and his fight-or-flight instinct started telling him to turn and run. his feet however, were still painfully glued to this spot. “i, uh… i was just about to knock… on your door….” he slowly lowered his hand, feeling like a deer in the headlights. “obviously.”

[bluesimba]

Judge, Jury, and Jason Todd

Warning: Swearing, snippets of Jason’s time with the Joker, and dark themes implied.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Notes: This is the first part to what will hopefully become a series. I think that someone should be there for Jason with all he’s been through.

Gotham has this stench that clings to it.

Rats poke out of dingy alleyways and skitter around, disgustingly overgrown tails sweeping behind them. Graffiti is splayed out over Gotham; it suffocates the rundown diners that serve their customers with dirty plates instead of smiles, the motels with stiff beds that are less comfortable than the floors, and the old apartments where someone’s always moving in right after the last person left. Everything is fair game in Gotham, and there’s always some hotshot saying he owns the city because he scored on drug deal.

Except the upper side, that is. You know, the place where the houses hang over the beaches, and if you’re lucky enough there’ll be a photogenic sunset waiting for you. An ocean breeze will flutter by, tickling your nose just enough to make you forget that you’re in Gotham. The upper side doesn’t deal with the graffiti or gangs squabbling for power. Not publicly, that is.

But make no mistake—they have their rats too. Their rats dress up in suits that cost more than a semester at Harvard. They’ll give charismatic speeches about how they’re going to clean up the city streets, about how they’re fully devoted to the city, and how the donations to their charities go to bettering students, Gotham’s future. Promises are made in speeches. Promises are swept under the rug immediately after. One thing’s for certain: the streets of Gotham still look the same as yesterday.

Jason wrinkles his nose as he sits down, secluded by Gotham’s permanent shadows. Faint moonlight peeks above battered rooftops. Flickering signs from nearby businesses keep the alleyway somewhat lighted. Creeping up his spine like a spider, there’s a pang of fear that looms over him. The hairs on his arms are standing, he can feel it. A gulp. His heart’s beating faster, and his mind sprints in all directions. Heavy breathing.

His wrists burn. Jason hisses, like his bones were just smashed over and over again with a crowbar decorated in his blood. Scurrying through the alley, the rats make it worse, staring at him like he’s on display. Like he can’t move. That fuckin’ deranged grin is burned into his retinas.

Gotham has this stench that clings to it. Jason, unlike some people living in blissful ignorance, sees this city for what it really is—a shithole. If Bruce isn’t going to cross the line and wipe those pieces of shit from Gotham, then he will.

Snow in Gotham is pure white at first, the kind that’d pop out of a fairy tale book. One minute it’s picture perfect snow, and then the next minute the snow is muddy, tinted with a repulsive brown. There’s dirty snow in places all over the world, Jason knows this. He’s seen it firsthand after waking up in the scorching Lazarus Pit. Alive, not dead. Not buried six feet beneath the ground in his best suit. He’ll always be able to recognize Gotham’s snow, no matter where (or maybe when) he is; for as much as he hates what’s happened here, this is where he grew up, where he made a name for himself.

Jason remembers red snow and a German accent that’d get thicker with anger.

After being warped by the Lazarus Pit, fueled by raw, unimaginable hatred, Jason realized that the world didn’t give a damn about the boy who left the world too early. The world kept going. So did Bruce. Talia, though, she understood him, understood his drive for vengeance. She made this possible with a fat bank account and setting him up with the best of the best—the teachers that wouldn’t care who you were if you had cash and wouldn’t mind staining your hands.

Half of his teachers wound up dead for good reasons. He killed them because they didn’t deserve to share the same air as everyone else. The pedophile, the woman who was plotting to kill her husband and kid, the German assassin that sold drugged Chinese and Thai kids for an extra paycheck. Those types of people don’t get better if you throw them in Arkham and hope by some miracle that they don’t break out. Coffins hold them better than Arkham could dream of doing.

As he finishes cleaning his prized guns in his apartment, he stares at the red mask next to him on the cheap sofa. This city shaped him, the kid who grew up scamming on the streets to get by, the street rat who’d become Robin, the teenager who glared at the face of cruelty and spit on it. Gotham made him what it needed most: someone who’d cross the line. Someone who wasn’t Batman. It needed a permanent fix to the rampant problems. And that answer came in the form of Jason Todd—Red Hood.

Standing up, the couch springs groan in relief. Jason stretches and tries to free his neck and arms from the tense knots that refuse to let go, digging their claws into his muscles. He grabs his guns, calloused fingers wrapping around familiar handles, and puts them away, stashing them all over the apartment in case of emergency. When he has his guns in hand or nearby, there’s a sense of security that tumbles around in him. Holding enough firepower to make anyone back off, the apartment has enough weapons to fill a military arsenal.

Sluggishly walking to his bedroom, his footsteps are heavy, solid.

It’s 3:40 in the morning by the time Jason collapses on his stiff bed. Click, click, click the ceiling fan rattles. Burned into the back of his brain, he counts that click, clinging to it knowing he won’t be able to sleep. Sleep doesn’t come easy to him anymore. At most he gets a couple hours. Even then he bolts up multiple times with streams of sweat sliding down the sides of his face. There’s something wrong with him and he knows it, but this is his normal now and he’ll deal with it how he wants to.

Tossing and turning for hours, he finally sinks into a restless sleep, with his face twitching and scrunching all the while.

Again.

Again.

Again, he launches upwards. Chains of sweat trickling down his face are back. The heavy breathing is too. One, two, one, two. Jason’s eyes are wide, irises almost shaking. He can’t think. Can’t scrape his way out of the nightmares that haunt him. They cling to him more than Gotham’s stench suffocates it.

His hand immediately flies to the gun stashed beneath his pillow, fingers curling around it in a death grip, enough pressure to cut off someone’s breathing.

“So, let’s try and clear this up, okay, pumpkin? What hurts more? A—”

Bones shatter as he’s clobbered with a crowbar.

“—or B?”

A series of grunts.

“Forehand—”

The crowbar digs into his flesh, tearing at him. He’s gurgling on his own blood.

  “—or backhand?”

His blood tastes like iron.

Jason hears that psychotic cackling in his head. It rings out nonstop, and one of his hands is pulling at his black hair. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real. He can’t be hurt like that anymore. He refuses it—refuses to be vulnerable.

Rusting ships sit in the shipyard, caressed by the sea’s fingers, and the ships loom over everything in sight. Dull colored crates with black numbers sprayed on them don’t compare to the massive ships that feel like they were at the forefront of an armada.

Hawkish and focused, Jason’s eyes are fixed on a nearby section of the shipyard. Some mildly important people are going to be meeting here tonight, according to his source that vomited up information to save his own skin.

He waits. There’s movement in the corner of his eye, something small, something fast. Tiny legs skittering across cracked concrete sound. Craning his neck and squinting, his eyes are locked on it instantly. His fingers reflexively twitch, and he has to resist the roaring urge to reach for one of the numerous guns he’s got and put a bullet right through the center of whatever is crawling around.

It’s a roach, an ugly version of brown, antenna poking up, and unfortunately, not lying on its back, dead.

Averting his gaze, Jason looks back to the spot from earlier. To take over a big hellhole like Gotham, he’s going to have to play it smart and provoke everyone just enough so that they move right where he wants them. That’s how things are done here. That’s how things have always been done here; it hasn’t changed since he was Robin. Guns blazing and ordering glasses of towering demands comes later. That’s the fun part, when his heart is rushing blood to every corner of his body and he can barely hear over the stampeding adrenaline in his ears—but for now he’s got to wait, patiently perched in permanent shadows.

More roaches come within twenty minutes. They’re in moderately nice suits (hell, one of them has a cigar in his mouth, saying he’s some kind of bigshot) and carrying black briefcases of cash that blend in well with the dim surroundings. What really matters here are the people. The cash is a bonus for him.

To have friends in high places and provoke the important guys just so, you’ve got to be standing on someone else’s back already, like these guys here.

The smell of salt from the water is light as his muscles strain in anticipation. He doesn’t hear the soft skittering roach as adrenaline electrifies his body. Fingers twitching again, he’s reaching for his guns, gloved fingers coiling around familiar handles.

He steps out of the shadows.

Footsteps dauntingly chilling; guns out, pointed at foreheads; and a sliver of moonlight shining on his red hood.

Jason’s met with furious expressions coupled with harsh, biting storms of swearing. They’re reaching for anything they’ve got to defend themselves, knives, guns, you name it. Regardless of whatever miracle they’re hoping to rip from their asses, they’re too slow. Footsteps shuffle over the concrete as some of them try to run with their tails between their legs.

Shoot first, ask questions later.

Fingers rapidly pulling triggers, bodies plummet to the ground, legs crippling at unnatural angles. Several jaws hit the concrete hard. Cracking nastily on impact, stained, yellow teeth burst from mouths. Teeth launch in every direction and are followed by endless streams of blood that leak from the buckled mouths. Agonized shrieks shred out of dry throats. A silent wave passes over.

The moderately important people are left unscathed for now. He needs them unscathed physically, but mentally is a completely different story.

“So,” Jason says and focuses on the remaining people, “let’s talk.”

[sallysklar]

Living in Dialogue: Slouching Toward Technopoly: A Lesson Plan

Living in Dialogue: Slouching Toward Technopoly: A Lesson Plan

In his recent novel, Purity, Jonathan Franzen nearly kills off an expert hacker who is addicted to a video game that he plays without sleep or food to compete at higher and higher levels against players from all over the world. The hacker is not aware that he is dying as Franzen takes us through the symptoms of malnourishment and sleep deprivation. The hacker who is assisting the protagonist blacks out and the reader discovers at the conclusion of the novel that he barely survived. 

Humans are prone to addiction and those who sell products that become addicting tend to make a lot of money. World History is in part a chronicle of the fortunes, companies, and states built on addictions. The British Empire was built on opium, and other empires were built on tobacco, coffee, sugar, gold, silver, jade, china, cocaine, crack, and heroin. 

Digital platforms encourage digital addiction that makes those who own those platforms very wealthy. Adam Adler dissects exactly how companies like Google and Facebook hook consumers into addiction in his book, Irresistible: The Rise of Addictive Technology and the Business of Keeping Us Hooked 2017).

Read and be prepared to discuss the following excerpts from Irresistible. Do you think they are accurate or exaggerated?

For ninety minutes, [Steve] Jobs explained why the iPad was the best way to look at photos, listen to music, take classes on iTunes U, browse Facebook, play games, and navigate thousands of apps. He believed that everyone should own an iPad.

But he refused to let his kids use the device.

…Chris Anderson, the former editor of Wired, enforced strict time limits on every device in his home, “because we have seen the dangers of technology first hand.” His children are never allowed to use screens in their bedrooms. Evan Williams, a founder of Blogger, Twitter, and Medium, bought hundreds of books for his two young sons, but refused to give them an iPad. And Lesley Gold, the founder of an analytics company, imposed a strict no-screen-time-during-the-week rule on her kids. She softened her stance only when kids needed computers for schoolwork. Walter Isaacson, who ate with the Jobs family while researching his biography of the Jobs family…[observed that]”No one ever pulled out an iPad or computer. The kids did not seem addicted at all to devices.” It seemed as if the people producing tech products were following the cardinal rule of drug dealing: never get high on your own supply. (2)

According to Tristian Harris, a “design ethicist,” the problem isn’t that people lack willpower; it’s that “there are a thousand people on the other side of the screen whose job it is to break down the self-regulation you have. (3)

Kimberly Young, a psychologist who practices at a small regional hospital in Bradford, Pennsylvania, coined the phrase “Internet Addiction” in 1995, and in 2010 she opened the Center for Internet Addiction—the country’s first hospital-based treatment center for Internet addiction. Most Internet addicts are hooked on games. “In the mid 2000s, as the infrastructure of the Internet improved, Internet addiction became a much bigger problem,” Young said. “But the biggest changes, by far, were the introduction of the iPhone and then the iPad in 2010.” Games became mobile, available to anyone with a smartphone all the time. Instead of a string of boys, Young was suddenly treating both males and females of all ages and personality types. (166)

If idle smartphones and tablets draw us away from real-world interactions, how will we fare in the face of VR [Virtual Reality] devices? Steven Kotler write for Forbes that VR would become “legal heroin; our next hard drug.” There’s every reason to believe Kolter. When it matures, VR will allow us to spend time with anyone in any location doing whatever we like for as long as we like. That sort of boundless pleasure sounds wonderful, but it has the capacity to render face-to-face interactions obsolete. Why live in the real world with real, flawed people when you can live in a perfect world that feels just as real?….Wielded by big business and game designers, though, it might also prove to be a vehicle for the latest in a series of escalating behavioral addictions. (143)

In moderation, personal goal-setting makes intuitive sense, because it tells you how to spend your limited time and energy. But today, goals visit themselves upon us, uninvited. Sign up for a social media account, and you’ll soon seek followers and likes. Create and e-mail account, and you will forever chase an empty box. Wear a fitness watch, and you’ll need to walk a certain number of steps each day. Play Candy Crush and you’ll need to break your existing high score. If your pursuit happens to be governed by time or numbers—running a marathon, say, or measuring your salary—goals will come in  the forms of round numbers and social comparisons. You will find you want to run faster and earn more than other people, and to beat certain natural milestones. Running a marathon in 4:01 will seem like a failure, as will earning $99,500. These goals will pile up, and they fuel addictive pursuits that bring failure or, perhaps worse, repeated success that spawns one new ambitious goal after another. (120)

“I don’t feel like a child anymore,” Katherine says, “I’m not doing anything childish. At the end of sixth grade”—when all her friends got phones and downloaded Snapchat, Instagram, and Twitter–”I just stopped doing everything I normally did. Playing games at recess, playing with toys, all of it, done. (42)

Some of these addictions continue to grow with technological innovation and social change. One recent study suggested that up to 40 percent of the population suffers from some form of Internet-based addiction, whether to e-mail, gaming, or porn. Another found that 48 percent of its sample of U.S. university students were “Internet addicts,” and another 40 percent were borderline or potential addicts. When asked to discuss their interactions with the Internet, most students gravitated toward negative consequences, explaining that their work, relationship, and family lives were poorer because they spent too much time online.

Beyond Internet addiction, 46 percent of people say they couldn’t bear to live without their smartphones (some would rather suffer physical injury than injury to their phones), and 80 percent of teens check their phones at least once per hour.  In 2008, adults spent an average of eighteen minutes on their phones per day; in 2015 they were spending two hours and forty-eight minutes per day. This shift to mobile devices is dangerous because a device that travels with you is always a better vehicle for addiction. In one study, 60 percent of respondents reported binge-watching dozens of television episodes in a row despite planning to stop much sooner. Up to 59 percent of people say they’re dependent on social media sites and that their reliance on these sites ultimately makes them unhappy. Of that group, half say they need to check those sites once per hour. After an hour, they are anxious, agitated, and incapable of concentrating. Meanwhile in 2015, there were 280 million smartphone addicts. If they banded together to form the “United States of  Nomophobia,” it would be the fourth most populous country in the world, after China, India, and the United States. (28)

Neil Postman on Amusing Ourselves to Death:

But we had forgotten that alongside Orwell’s dark vision there was another—slightly older, slightly less well known, equally chilling: Aldous Huxley’s Brave NewWorld. Contrary to common belief even among the educated, Huxley and Orwell did not prophesy the same thing. Orwell warns that we will be overcome by an externally imposed oppression. But in Huxley’s vision, no Big Brother is required to deprive people of their autonomy, maturity, and history. As he saw it, people will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think.

What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one.  Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity or egoism. Orwell feared that truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared that truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared that we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared that we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked inBrave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who were ever on alert to oppose tyranny “failed to take into account man’s almost infinite appetite for distractions.” In 1984, Huxley added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us. (Forward, 1985 edition)

Discussion prompts:

Is Internet addiction a problem at your school, at home, in society in general? Comment on the above excerpts from your own perspective based on your experiences and the experiences of those you know.

Are we are heading toward a dystopia? If you think so, is Technopoly better predicted by Orwell or Huxley?

Are you an Internet or a smartphone addict? Go to reSTART: https://www.netaddictionrecovery.com, hover over “Videogames: The Problem,” and read descriptions and take the tests that will allow you to assess your digital habits.

elaine December 17, 2018

Source

Living in Dialogue

Living in Dialogue: Slouching Toward Technopoly: A Lesson Plan published first on https://buyessayscheapservice.tumblr.com/

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DGB Grab Bag: Hossa's Contract, the Draft, and Drake

Welcome to Sean McIndoe's weekly grab bag, where he writes on a variety of NHL topics. You can follow him on Twitter. Check out the Biscuits podcast with Sean and Dave Lozo as they discuss the events of the week.

Three stars of comedy

The third star: Chad Johnson is back – The former NFL star went and got his hopes up over the Mike Smith trade.

The second star: The NHL trolls Capitals fans – Which is good to see, because I think we all agree that those guys have been riding high for too long.

The first star: Marc-Edouard Vlasic is afraid of bees – But it's cool everyone, he has a plan.

Outrage of the week

The issue: Marian Hossa will miss all of next season, and his career may be over due to a skin disorder. The outrage: Not only is the league losing a wonderful player, but the Blackhawks are going to get off the hook for the rest of Hossa's massive contract. Is it justified: We don't know exactly how Hossa's situation will play out. Maybe he makes a comeback and plays again for the Blackhawks or someone else. Or maybe he retires, at which point Chicago would be on the hook for a portion of his cap hit. But the most likely outcome is that he simply goes on the long-term injured reserve for the remaining four years on his deal, the Hawks largely avoid any cap repercussions, and the league just shrugs and moves on while fans of other teams scream about how unfair it all is.

Here's the thing: That's just how the system functions. It's not a bug, it's a feature. To be clear, Hossa's situation isn't some sort of scam being run by the Blackhawks. From everything we've seen, it's a legitimate condition that could have become life-threatening. Just like Chris Pronger or Marc Savard before him, Hossa is a victim here. Save your conspiracy theories.

But this is how it works in the NHL. Certain players sign long-term contracts, including some under the old CBA that were for 10 years or more. Those contracts start to look ugly as time goes on. There's lots of hand-wringing about whether the team will be on the hook for a major cap hit on a declining player.

And then, just in time, the problem goes away. The player gets hurt, or hurt enough. Maybe they head for the KHL. Or sometimes they just vanish without any explanation at all. Then their cap hit winds up on LTIR, or maybe it gets traded to some team that needs to artificially reach the floor. But at some point, somehow, it all just… goes away.

And everyone is fine with it.

Oh, inevitably, fans complain. It doesn't seem fair. The system is supposed to punish teams that sign contracts that go bad. The Blackhawks won three Cups largely on the strength of back-diving deals to Hossa and Duncan Keith, and they were supposed to pay a price. Now they're going to wriggle off the hook, and probably spend that newfound cap space on some new star players who'll help them beat up your favorite team.

But the NHL knows this. And they've been very clear that they're OK with it. They may pretend they don't know how Hossa's situation will play out just yet, but we all know where this is headed. Once the league allowed Chris Pronger to take a new job and enter the Hall of Fame while his playing contract was still on the books, the message was clear. They don't really want to punish anyone for this stuff.

And yes, the same goes for cap recapture, the ridiculous after-the-fact rule the league enacted in 2013 to penalize teams for deals that had already been reviewed and approved. It's been applied to players like Ilya Kovalchuk and Mike Richards, in relatively small amounts. But will you ever see it applied in a way that could really hurt a team like the Predators? Put it this way: Remember to act surprised when the rule quietly disappears with the next CBA.

This is just how it works in this league. Whether it's the referees, the Department of Player Safety or contract loopholes, you're supposed to think that there's a chance that somebody will get punished in some meaningful way even though it almost never happens. We should all be used to it by now.

Feel bad for Hossa, and for fans who won't get to see him play anymore. But if you thought this contract was going to come back and bite the Blackhawks someday, feel bad for yourself too, because you haven't been paying attention.

Obscure former player of the week

The big news in the NHL right now is the entry draft, with the first round being held tonight. But another important story slipped a bit under the radar this week, with the announcement that the Coyotes were parting ways with captain Shane Doan. That ends a 21-year relationship, dating back to the 1995-96 season. Doan has actually been with the franchise longer than the Coyotes have even existed; he pre-dates the move from Winnipeg by a year.

So today, let's combine those two stories by bestowing obscure player honors on Steve Kelly. I'll explain.

Kelly was a speedy center who put up decent points and PIMs with the WHL's Prince Albert Raiders in the early 90s. That earned him a first-round selection, sixth overall, by the Oilers in the 1995 draft. He made his debut in Edmonton with eight games in 1997, scoring once, and played six more in the playoffs as the Oilers upset the Stars.

Kelly opened the 1997-98 season with the Oilers, but was traded to the Lightning in December as part of the Roman Hamrlik deal. He'd stick around for two years before being traded to the Devils and then to Los Angeles. He'd spend four seasons with the Kings, but only suit up for 37 games. He'd eventually head to Europe, briefly returning to the NHL to play two games for the Wild in 2008.

All in all, Kelly's NHL career spanned nine seasons but just 149 games, and he scored only nine goals. That's not bad, but as far as number six overall picks go, it qualifies him as a bust. But that's where things get worse for the Oilers. When they took Kelly back in 1995, they passed on an Alberta kid who many had expected them to take. Instead, that player went to the Jets with the very next pick. Yes, good old Shane Doan. To make matter even worse, that year's draft was held in Edmonton, and roughly 10,000 fans were chanting Doan's name when the Oilers made their way to the podium.

Hockey history probably looks a lot different for one franchise and maybe two if the Oilers had just picked the local kid. But we'll never know for sure, thanks to Steve Kelly. (By the way, another kid from Edmonton went 11th overall that year. But this has already been painful enough for Oilers fans, so we won't mention that other guy.)

The NHL actually got something right

… twenty years ago. We think. Nobody's quite sure. But stick with me, because we kind of started all this so we need to clean it up.

Last week, our YouTube section featured a series of comedy sketches from the 1997 NHL Awards. They weren't exactly knee-slappers, but some were better than others, and they were all funnier than whatever that Penn and Teller thing was on Wednesday. The best of the bunch was this one, in which the NHL had some fun with a pair of star goaltenders who'd also scored goals

I liked it. I even made a point of applauding the "better pull your goalie" kid. I liked his enthusiasm. He probably went on to great things.

Well, hold on. As several readers immediately pointed out, that kid looked kind of familiar.

Is that… is that Drake?

It certainly looks like him. And as all good Canadians know, before he found fame as a rapper, Drake was a child actor. He would have been ten years old when this piece was filmed in his hometown of Toronto. A few years later, he was playing Jimmy Brooks on Degrassi and looking like this.

Others were wondering the same thing. In one of those crazy coincidences that seems to happen on the internet, news outlets started randomly discovering the eight-year-old YouTube clip on their own just days after we'd mentioned it here. Message boards and Reddit groups debated the question. Literally everyone made some variation of the same "I guess he really did start at the bottom" joke. And eventually, experts started concluding that it's definitely him.

I think that's all good enough for me. It sure seems like this obscure NHL awards sketch was indeed Drake's introduction to a worldwide audience. And if so, that means two things. One, I clearly owe all of you an apology for missing this last week, since pointing out obscure details from old and forgotten NHL moments is pretty much my job description.

And more importantly, the NHL Awards have officially had a real live celebrity on them! We did it! Step aside, Kevin Smith. You too, Beverly Hills housewives. Better luck next time, vaguely hammered Cuba Gooding Jr. Hit the bricks, literally dozens of people who probably really were legitimately famous but whose names I didn't recognize because I'm old.

If anybody asks, the list of genuinely famous celebrities who've appeared on an NHL Awards broadcast is officially now Jon Hamm and Drake. (Just make sure to change the subject before they start trying to nail down dates.)

Classic YouTube clip breakdown

This year's NHL Awards took place on Wednesday, and as usual, everyone complained about them. That's pretty much become an annual tradition; hockey fans gather around the TV, watch the hardware get handed out, and mumble about how the celebrities aren't famous enough, the musical acts aren't good enough and the jokes aren't funny enough.

Well, all of that may be true. But look on the bright side. At least the NHL didn't do this.

It's June 4, 1984 and Alan Thicke is hosting the NHL Awards from Toronto, and beyond that I swear to you I don't have one damn clue about how to explain what you're about to see.

"Fitness shows are big this year," Thicke informs us, and we'll just agree to take his word for it. He launches into the setup for the next segment, which will apparently involve something called "The Canadian Brass" performing a three-minute workout.

Thicke, of course, is no stranger to this section. He made his first appearance in one of the very first Grab Bags ever, when he sang "Hockey Sock Rock" with Phil Esposito, Buck Rogers and the Unknown Comic in a performance that's even weirder than I just made it sound.

While that was good, Thicke hit his hockey-related peak at the 1988 NHL Awards when he performed a song about Canada. That was the segment that gave is the immortal "Second Row Guy", the perpetually flustered extra whose live TV meltdown got progressively more painful as the song went on. And Thicke somehow still stayed cool through the whole thing.

We lost Thicke late last year, of course, when he passed away playing a game of (what else) hockey. The NHL paid tribute to him at this year's all-star game. He also wrote the theme songs for a bunch of hit sitcoms like Diff'rent Strokes and The Facts of Life. Did you know that? Not many people know that. What an interesting fact.

Why yes, I am stalling now. Was it that obvious?

Fine, here we go. Bring out the Canadian Brass. Hey, how bad can it be, right?

So it turns out that "Canadian Brass" is a bunch of Canadian dudes playing brass instruments. Not much of a twist there, I guess, although it's nice to see that they broke out the white tuxedos and red cummerbunds. They perform a nice enough little number, even mixing in some light choreography. It's also perfectly pleasant in a very Canadian sort of way, and we all agree to ignore the fact that there seems to be a synthesizer playing somewhere.

And then, 30 seconds in, it happens: A half-dozen ladies in leotards trot out onto the stage, shout out a countdown, and start doing aerobics.

Look, I know that some people read this stuff at work and can't watch the YouTube clips, and right now those people are very confused. They think that last line was some kind of metaphor. I can assure you it is not.

It's easy to miss, but my very favorite part of the whole video comes right as the workout women appear, and the Canadian Brass guys are supposed to momentarily act confused. Trombone Guy really sells it for like half a second before going right back into his music.

At this point we're 1:15 into the clip. The next three minutes is basically just brass and… uh… exercise. And no, I'm not going to make any GIFs of the workout women miming like they're playing the trumpet. This is a classy operation we're running here, dammit.

They really bring it down about halfway through. That's smart. If you're going to ask an audience of hockey players to sit through three minutes of jazzercise, pacing is key.

By the way, do Americans know what the 20 Minute Workout was? I know it was a Canadian show, but it feels like the sort of thing that would have trickled over the border. Anyways, if you're confused, watch this. You'll still be confused, but you'll be healthier for it.

Also, according to the internet (so it can't be wrong), Canadian Brass is "the world's most famous brass music quintet" and is still a going concern to this day. I'm still not sure why they didn't do a hockey-themed song here, like the Hockey Night theme or Brass Bonanza. Ah well. Let's get back to the video, which I'm sure has wrapped up by now.

Oh good lord, it's still going on. This is the longest three minutes in hockey history, narrowly beating out the Oilers defending a 3-0 lead against the Ducks in this year's playoffs.

The whole thing finally ends with a lovely shot of the ladies bending over while the guys raise their horns. Everyone bows, at which point it becomes clear that they didn't rehearse exiting the stage because nobody's sure when to leave and they start bumping into each other.

Thicke knows that was awful but is way too much of a pro to ever say so, so instead he soldiers on with a joke about Dave Semenko attacking one of the performers, because nobody's watching at this point anyway.

And with that, we're done. Somehow, trombones and leotards didn't become a regular feature of the NHL awards, which is too bad. I bet little Drake would have gone out and killed that performance.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com .

DGB Grab Bag: Hossa's Contract, the Draft, and Drake published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv