The fite team, living proof that shorter people are closer to hell.
Team up to get things off of high shelves.
Would probably kill you for Takashi Shirogane. Would probably kill lots of people for Takashi Shirogane.
Keith is interested in tech, if not naturally talented with it. He sits next to Pidge and watches the work, and helps a little bit. Handing wrenches and that sort of thing.
Twin obsessive personalities. Keith finds a wall and makes a big galactic map that they put sticky notes on. Pins tied together with string. Military strategy interpreted old school cop style.
Helps Pidge with the search for the Holt family in the same way. There are file folders. Allura despairs of why Keith is constantly printing things out to stick them to walls. Pidge has no idea why he insists on doing things this way, but appreciates the help.
They judge Lance together.
Keith teaches Pidge more about really close quarters combat.
Pidge is a a bit of a picky eater and Keith is too by nature, even if he’s learned to be flexible. They trade foods at the dinner table if one person likes something and the other person doesn’t.
What was the underground ice cream trade? That sounds like a cool story
*shifty eyes* oh no someone actually asked about this
alright well…. its kinda a long story that no one is going to hear in full detail because.. my brief childhood as a rising entrepreneur and procurer of goods is not to be discussed.
ahem- anyways when i was in… 1st grade (kindergarten?? nah first grade) i discovered that the Lunch Ladies were monitoring our food and reporting back to The Parents what we ate. Like say ice cream on a day we arent supposed to be eating ice cream and then our parents yelled at us because it wasnt allowed, wah wah wah cry me a fucking river. But still, such a breech of privacy was Not To Be Tolerated. so i decided to fuck the system. in ways only a 6 year old and The Godfather could.
The hows of my… procuring of the ice cream are… unimportant (I’m not telling a soul) but i managed to eat like an Ice Cream Empress for about a solid week or so before i realized that my fellow compatriots were also suffering under the tyranny of the Lunch Ladies and only I could help them. So i waited. until someone else ate ice cream on a day they weren’t supposed to and got yelled at by their parents. And when they complained at lunch and still wanted ice cream i pounced.
“Well… i could… trade you my ice cream for something, if you want?”
and the very first deal was struck. i walked away with a pack of crayons complete with crayon sharpener and a mechanical pencil that day and i knew. I could do better. so i kept it up and soon i was selling a few ice creams here or there… for about a buck fifty within a month. i kept my rates pretty standard at that point. (icies at the school store were 75¢ for a small and $1.25 for a large - i knew what i was about)
and then a kid from the next classroom over asked me for a trade at recess and i had to expand. so i knew a kid. and then he knew a kid. and she knew a kid in 3rd grade who had a friend in the advanced class and so on. but i wouldn’t let my …opportunity out to just anyone. you had to be in to be in the know. you got me? rates stayed the same and i had to take a small cut in my profits for a minute while my operation expanded. a trade was $1.50 and my fellow entrepreneurs got 50¢ per trade plus one ice cream a week. we had to be careful now. i had about 5 comrades in arms again the Lunch Ladies in our quest for ice cream (and filling as many piggy banks as possible - even though my piggy banks were actually dalmatians and then a tea pot)
by second grade i had worked out all the kinks more or less. and developed my rules of operation.
no more then three trades a week per operator
if you share a lunch time no trades on the same day
do not trade to just anyone
all trades must be accounted for at recess or car line
do not tell the adults.
i was also getting sick of ice cream on the regular so i stopped eating it at this point. and then there was this kind named bry-(on? ce? something? it definitely started with a bry) and bry almost blew all of us out of the water because this little fucker got caught. he cried and was 7 years old so the adults thought poor little bry had made a mistake and let him go. but i knew. oh i knew what had happened. and this little shit could have ruined everything. and if one of us went down then all of us were going down. And the Lunch Ladies would win. but worst of all. they would tell my mom.
so i called a business meeting at recess. now let me explain how recess was divided up. all of the 2nd graders went out at the same time and of course not all of the 2nd graders can associate with each other so parts of the playground and subsequent field was claimed by different groups. and i always got the swings. unless i wanted the slide and all the surrounding monkey bars. but that day i wanted the swings. Now its almost important to note that beyond the swings was an area that had some trees and this huge stone picnic table that was absolutely covered in gum. That belonged to the 5th graders. And no one fucked with the 5th graders. (unless you are off school property and can run fast as hell but thats another story entirely)
well. i made sure to be the teachers pet smiling little line leader that day because i didn’t need to make an entrance, i needed bry to come to me, on my swing, and know that he’d made a mistake. (i also miscalculated on the line leader thing since i was never the line leader, i always walked firmly in the middle of the pack, and my teacher was suspicious) so I’m swinging as high as i dare, this kid i knew tried to go around the bar earlier that year and broke his arm, and waited for bry to show up. now I’m on the closest swing to the gum table and no one ever dared step a foot over the railroad tie that marked the end of safe and the beginning of danger. well. bry comes walking over and stands next to the swing set and I hop off my swing storm right up to this kid and start pushing him back. until this little shit steps clean off the playground and stands with both feet just inside 5th grade territory. and I’m standing there on the railroad tie and i say something along the lines of
“i won’t tell if you dont”
with a very pointed glance at the table of gum and since 5th graders are infinitely more terrifying then adults bry bursts into tears and swore he wouldnt. and because it was 2nd grade i probably made him swear to give me his batman folder if he did. (was i a fan of batman as a 7 year old? i was not. it was the principle of the matter.) well my teacher saw part of this and i spent a few hours in the principals office and then got sent home for the rest of the day. but my message was clear and the lines had been drawn. everything was smooth sailing there on in.
and then my parents sent me to private school for third grade afraid of all the bad influences i was encountering at public school.
For @greyhoundsgirl who prompted Stiles/Derek and reunion. Hope you enjoy this! I’m really happy with how it turned out!
Restless. Stiles/Derek. Teen.
Stiles has been feeling unsettled and restless, missing something without knowing exactly what.
The academy really sucks. It’s been raining a lot this fall, and the instructors don’t care that the cadets are only humans who can get cold and sick if forced to run outside every day. Stiles has managed to avoid getting sick, so far, but most of his group has come down with a cold, if not something worse. It’s like their primary instructor thinks they’re in the military instead of cop school. His dad keeps telling him to just hold his tongue, warns him that some of the instructors can be assholes, and says it’ll get better, like some damn PSA or something.
Some days, he really regrets the night he encouraged Scott to go look for a dead body. If the supernatural bullshit hadn’t invaded their lives sophomore year, he might have maintained his GPA and kept his position in the top of his class. There would have been scholarship opportunities, and he could be bitching about eight a.m. classes and annoying professors instead of the academy. Really, it’s six of one or a half dozen of another. Maybe he should have just forced himself to not care about anyone and take off with no forwarding address, do the Derek thing with random postcards occasionally but no sure way for anyone to get in touch. Best way to avoid getting dragged back into shit is to never tell anyone where you are, just where you’ve been.