For those who wanted Tony n his friends to all have their own scooters,
Now with 100% more ridiculousness.
Tony, with his Iron Man scooter:
I think he wanted to do the ‘leaning on one knee pose’ with his legs, but there was only one area he could ‘lean’ his leg on, and he couldn’t lean so much as precariously lay his ankle on it.
It’s not a very safe pose.
Rhodey, with his own War Machine scooter:
You can’t see it, but he’s holding the scooter between his ankles and his thigh so it doesn’t fall over.
(not sure if I got him looking right, or if I’m offending anyone but it was one of the lame poses I found on google so)
It is also not a safe pose.
Pepper, with one special scooter Tony made because she doesn’t have her own merchandise, and another, cheaper scooter she bought in a store and painted her name on top of it so she can join the cheap merch quality Tony and Rhodey both has:
Important PSA 1: do not lean on your scooter, it may fold.
Important PSA 2: do not balance your scooter on the front wheel.
don’t let yourself forget the huge contingent of middle class white feminists who think it’s totally fine to threaten to out, rape, and murder sex workers on the internet, because to them we’re just “fuckmeat” and they hate us even more than men do.
sex workers’ rights are human rights and if you find yourself following someone who doesn’t think so, know that what they post publicly is a tiny fraction of what they do and say anonymously to us, including threatening to out us to clients or cops in the hopes we get murdered.
white supremacy, imperialism, and misogyny don’t always look like richard spencer.
the policies swerfs promote actively result in the assault and murder of brown women in southeast asia as well as the houselessness, loss of day jobs, and murder of woc and white women in the western world.
they force us into sweatshops, to stay in violent relationships, out into the streets as a part of their imperialist vision of proper womanhood.
Each of the installments of the editorial series are must-read pieces. I urge you to read all six parts. In the event that you’ve missed any of the previous articles in the series from the Los Angeles Times, here are links to each part:
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY! Thank you for being amazing and beautiful in everything you do!
It’s been forever since I’ve written and I apologize for that.
Thank you all for the love on Notebook! I was shocked to say the least:)
Summary: You’re the ‘mom’ of the team but what happens when you’re not Bucky’s fan?
Word Count: Could this have been written in 2 parts? Sure, but where’s the fun in that?! Just kidding, I didn’t want to stop.. So.. Lord knows…. (I’m so sorry I don’t know I don’t have Word so I can’t count them and I refuse to count them myself because it’s a lot.)
Warnings: Suicide mentions, suicide scene (NO ONE DIES), sad moments tbh, fluff, hugs (A TON OF HUGS), sign language (If that’s even a warning), annoyed Bucky, nightmares, and crying. Dang… It sounds really heavy but go with it.
Please let me know if you liked it! Thank you for reading, I hope you have a good day:)
You’ve been at the Avengers compound for almost 8 months because your cousin Tony requested you after the fallout between himself and none other than Captain America. Luckily between that time, Tony and Natasha have been speaking to Captain and the government finally expunged what James Barnes did while he was under mind-control by writing him off as ‘mentally unstable’.
You rubbed your hands together excitedly as you awaiting the arrival of the other half of the infamous team. To your knowledge they all knew who you were and understood your reasoning to be there for the team.
An Honorary Mother, everyone likes to say.
You’re a very affectionate person, you’ve always loved seeing people smile because of you and enjoyed helping them through issues and were very excited to help the coming members, especially James Barnes. You read his file and couldn’t stop the blush as you looked at all the pictures they had of him. He was incredibly handsome and you knew he needed someone other than Captain America to help.
“Hey, waiting for your new sons and daughters?” Natasha said lightly as she walked over to you at the entrance of the compound. You turn to her and gave her a hug, she laughs quietly and hugs you back before pulling away, “you do know you saw me an hour ago?” She asks with a quirked eyebrow, you shrug and watch the doors.
“Everyone needs hugs, it’s scientifically proven to help you mentally and physically, you know.” You note smiling at her, she rolls her eyes but smiles nonetheless.
“Are you excited to meet them?” She says after a few moments of silence, you nod quickly and look to the door, again rubbing your hands together.
“I hope they like me.” You say quietly looking at the floor briefly as though you’d just confessed to stealing cookies before dinner. Natasha puts an arm around your shoulder, grinning to reassure you.
“Don’t worry, they’ll love you. You’re our adopted mom.” You look at her and smile just as the doors open.
You wait for everyone to come up to you and Natasha, your heart pounding loudly in your ears and you stare up and Captain America and James Barnes, they have at least 8 inches on you. Natasha elbows you lightly and cocks her head towards them.
Captain puts his hand in front of you and smiles brightly, “Hello, my name is Steve Rogers, nice to meet you.” You glance at his hand then his face before hugging him around the waist tightly, he coughs awkwardly and hugs you back gently. You pull away and smile at everyone staring at you with wonder except James Barnes who stares at you with anxious eyes.
What if Claire travelled through time from her life of the 18th century to Jamie who lived in the 1940s ?
Fast-Forward: Part One.
Hoisting her skirts, Claire dragged in another jagged breath as she ducked and dived through the low hanging branches of the rowan trees that surrounded her. She could hear the far off hollering of the redcoat soldiers, their bugles piercing the silence as the dusk began to creep in.
Her back throbbed painfully as the almost-healed scars of her first run in with the army grated roughly against her tightly pulled bodice. The memory of her recent flogging sat painfully behind her eyes as she fled through the dense underbrush of the Scottish forest. As soon as she’d been able, she’d run. Picking her way through the underbelly of Fort William, Claire had successfully navigated her way through the cells, eventually picking the lock on the door that led out onto the pile of bodies dumped from the most recent hangings. Half blind and in agony, she’d crawled through the stench, up and out into daylight, her legs protesting as she moved without grace, falling and catching herself as her vision blurred.
Fight or flight had raged, her mind telling her one thing, her body another. But flight had won. To stay there meant death and she wasn’t willing to accept that just yet.
Randall’s words pulsed through her, causing her stomach to clench and she stopped to throw up what little she had in her belly, clenching her fingers around the rough bark as she gasped and expelled water and bile into the mud that lay at the base of the trees.
One loaf of bread, an innocent desire to simply feed herself and she’d been thrust into disarray, her life rendered forfeit for her theft. With no family and no allegiances to a husband, Claire had been living the life of a spinster, doctoring the sick and roaming from village to village to make a living. Captain Randall had been the dark mark that brought that living swiftly and sharply to an end.
Her father and Captain Jonathan Randall had been acquaintances…once upon a time. Knowing Claire was soon to be too old for marriage, and in a political move that seemed beneficial for his career, Henry Beauchamp had pledged her hand to the redcoat captain, deeming the match prosperous for all.
Claire had not agreed, and as such had made extremely vocal complaints on the matter.
Spurning Randall, she had vowed never to be linked with the man, his reputation for being a bit of a brute notwithstanding, she couldn’t see herself married to such a cold hearted man.
Her father had been devastated, his anger at Claire seemed never ending. But when the winter came, and with it a fresh batch of smallpox, those concerns paled into insignificance.
It wasn’t long before her mother was dead, followed quickly by her father, leaving Claire completely alone in the world.
The all too real threat of Randall caused her nothing but anguish and so she fled. Carrying only what she must, Claire had taken herself off into the highlands and reinvented herself. And for a time it had worked. She’d built up a grand relationship with the locals, her vast knowledge of the plants coming in very handy with sickness.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Claire forced away the urge to sob uncontrollably, her arm gripping her middle as she steeled her shoulders and began to calm her throbbing heart.
She could still see the look on her father’s face the night she rudely destroyed his vision for her future. She could still see the look of thrill on Randall’s face the night he’d pulled her in for stealing, his eyes alight with pleasure as he’d had her hog-tied to the wagon and flayed until she’d nearly passed out.
‘You’ve got to keep going, Claire,’ a small voice whispered to her, the nightmare of her ordeal not yet over as the dull reminder of her predicament whistled through the air and reached her ears.
The army were closing in on her, and fast.
Bashing her fist against the tree, Claire swallowed back another wave of sickness. The light was slowing dwindling and her familiarity with this part of the forest was severely lacking.
Ahead a brief glimpse of sunset through the diminishing tree line caught her eye, the hints of orange and red sparking like firelight on the almost invisible horizon. The wind rose as she puffed her way through the heather and bracken, her toes bleeding and cut as she trudged barefoot upwards.
Pushing away the imminent urge to curl up and sleep, Claire forced herself out of the forest. The hill itself seemed innocuous, the tall stones standing proud at its peak catching the last of the light as she dug her hands into the damp grass and forged her way up further, closer to the top.
Her hair swung wildly in the wind as she reached it, the mass of curls tangling further as the sweat of exertion poured from her brow. Scrambling through the detritus that sat harmlessly in the centre of the stone circle, Claire turned her head, her eyes just catching a flash of maroon through the trees.
“No” she whispered, her knees quaking as she thrust herself low to the ground, pulling the threadbare tartan blanket over her shoulders as if to shield herself.
The voices were louder now, their coarse cries swirling around her in the rising breeze. It wouldn’t be long, she realised, and they’d be upon her. Not having the momentum to continue, Claire slid herself forwards on the ground, crawling through the filth at the base of the largest of the central stones, her hands shivering with cold and fever as her wounds began to throb harder, the cuts opening and allowing fresh droplets of blood to roll down her already moist spine.
Smacking her back against the solid stone, she cried out as the pain shook her.
Suddenly, and without warning, the ground seemed to shift beneath her bottom, the earth trembling uncontrollably under her as the world began to spin right before her eyes. Shifting her head, Claire clenched her fists in an effort to keep herself still, the piercing shriek that replaced the soldiers calls echoing in her eardrums, deafening her. Her arms flailed wildly as her body seemed to tear apart, her limbs being pulled from their sockets as the hurricane continued.
As the maelstrom ceased, Claire felt herself dip in and out of consciousness, her hands screwed up tightly in her hair as she sunk her head closer to the grass. Tickling her nose, the distinct smell of smoke roused her and she uncurled herself slowly.
Fear took root at the base of her spine as she crawled on all fours around the stone, not daring to touch it again, afraid of what it might do.
Peeking her head around, her eyes caught sight of the scent that had brought her round. A fire had been lit just to the side of the hill, it’s flames drifting up into the night sky as it burned away.
Something was off, Claire realised, her chest constricting as she glanced behind her.
Lights twinkled below in the valley, a whole range of them glowing at the base of the hills.
Inverness? She questioned to herself. But how could she see it so distinctly?
Furrowing her brow she turned back to the immediate call of the fire, her frigid body cold to the bone.
The same unknown feeling that told her something wasn’t quite the same flared. She should have been captured by now, clad in irons and marching with the soldiers back to Fort William. They had, after all, been right behind her just a moment before.
But she hadn’t been.
In fact she felt the distinct feeling of safety. Only the prickle of a notion that seemed to whisper to her that she had nothing to fear from those men here.
Taking the chance, Claire stood once more, letting her shaking knees bear the weight of her as she crept as silently as she was able towards the heat.
“Where am I?” She sighed, her voice trembling as she spoke to the darkness, her hands forming fists at her side as she prepared herself for the unknown.
He heard the snap of the twig before he saw her. Raising his head from his position collecting kindling from the sparse forest that lay to the righthand side of the hillock, Jamie gazed at the battered woman who now stood bashfully in front of his wee fire.
“Ah Dhia!” He whispered, his voice catching in his throat as he hid himself behind the largest tree.
The fire lit her face, the dark streaks of muck illuminated by the light. She was pale, far too fair skinned for a healthy person. He could tell from the way that she held herself that she was in pain, but he couldn’t pinpoint why from his hiding place.
Not wanting to spook her, he crept on his tiptoes to the edge of the trees, holding his hands up in surrender just in case she turned at an inopportune moment and he caught her off guard.
Her dress was peculiar, he realised, her bodice old and torn but still not of this time.
A costume, perhaps. But something about her told him she wasn’t an actress or a member of the local historical society. No, she seemed all too comfortable in her outfit for it to have been a replication of 18th century highland attire.
Wiping his hands on his kilt, Jamie readied himself. Curiosity won out and he began to walk slowly back towards his fire as he watched the strange girl fall to her knees, the relief on her face endearing her to him further.
Without a word, he stepped even closer, the heat of the fire reaching him from where he stood. She still hadn’t seemed to notice him, and the closer he got the more afraid he became of startling her.
“Hey…lassie…” he called out, keeping his voice low as he approached.
Claire threw herself to her feet with some force, her joints protesting as she turned on her new companion. From the tone of his voice, and from the Scots lilt, she didn’t immediately assume danger, but as shaken as she was, she wasn’t completely assured of her safety either.
Her eyes went wide as she caught sight of the man who’d called out to her. His red hair sat slicked back atop his head, fighting in the breeze to free itself from whatever concoction he’d smeared through it. His kilt was bright, something not quite befitting any other plaid she’d seen worn before and his boots were large and shiny.
Shaking her head, she held her hands up in a similar pose. Still she couldn’t pluck out the sounds of the army close by, and the thought that they’d magically disappeared began to sit nervously in her belly.
Where was she?
“You don’t need to fear me, aye?” The young man interjected, stopping only inches away from her as he dipped his head in mock surrender. “I willna hurt you. Promise.”
His smile was reassuring, and Claire dropped her hands and drew in a much needed breath.
Seeming genuine, she allowed him to walk closer, his hand reaching out now as he tried to remove some of the loose leaves and twigs from her mussed hair.
“Got yerself into a wee bit o’ a swivet have ye?” He spoke, his voice soft and calming as he took her in. “I’m James Fraser, Jamie to most. Who might you be?” He asked, curiosity obviously getting the better of him.
Inhaling a deep breath, Claire made to answer him. But as she did a wave of nausea overtook her and her throat trembled with the force of it.
Faster than he’d imagined, Jamie reached out just in time to catch the stranger as her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted.
“Christ!” He yelled, seeing her face pale and her shoulders slump.
Gathering her up, Jamie slipped his arms beneath her legs and held her to his chest as he strolled back towards his car.
“I guess this means yer coming wi’ me,” he chuckled, placing her softly on the cushioned leather of his back seat. “My mam always said I ha’ lassies falling for me. She isna wrong, aye?” He joked, brushing her curls away from her forehead as he covered her with his own clean blanket, closing the door softly behind him as he climbed into the front seat.
Placing the key into the ignition, Jamie switched on the headlights and glanced back over to his unconscious companion, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he took in her prostrate form.
Memories of old stories filled his mind as he tipped his head, viewing her with a sort of caution that seemed to spring from the idea of her miraculous appearance.
He had been alone up here. Craigh na Dunn was a notorious spot for the local druid woman, but only at certain times of the year. Beltane had just passed and as such, those who came here to dance had been days before to complete their ritual. That’s why he’d chosen that moment to flee his sisters monotonous wedding preparations. That’s why he was still in his kilt and not in his trousers.
The thought hit him then. A fairy. One of the magical folk.
The stories his grannie use to tell him sprung to mind as he put a name to the sourcery.
Madness, he scoffed, shaking his head at the myriad of daft thoughts that had begun to spiral in his mind. What a daft notion, of course she wasn’t a fairy!
“Please…” he heard as his guest began to cry out behind him, “don’t…no…please!”
Reaching backwards, Jamie laid his large palm against his cheek as he maneuvered the car towards the main road.
“Hush, lassie,” he cooed as he drove slowly, the lanes narrow and windy as he steered the car in the direction of Lallybroch and home. “Nobody will hurt ye here, rest up.”
The calm voice penetrated her nightmares as Claire twisted herself away from the harsh slap of the lash. Kind eyes and a flash of ginger broke through the angry vision of Randall and her capture. Clambering for some sort of foothold, she managed to find purchase on skin. A hand encircled hers and she gripped it with all her might, holding on as if it might rescue her from drowning in the hell that held her hostage.
‘Hush now…I’ll protect ye, I promise….’ the voice said, the waves of it breaking the shores of her horror and dissipating the pain. ‘Sleep now, mo nighean, rest.’
Welp, this was meant to be a Blancfortune oneshot. The me and @ladyofacat had some 3 AM talks and this turned into a villain!Ladybug au. Oops. Also, if you expect plot, leave the expectations at the door lmao. This story will mostly be sexual tension escalading and Miss Fortune/Marinette driving Chat/Adrien mad.
Chat Noir moved stealthily through the dark corridors of the Louvre. It was fights like this when he was truly grateful for his night vision. Fights in the dark were an advantage for him and he knew he needed any asset he could get when it came to fighting her. Because honestly, there was only one thief in the whole of Paris (and possibly Europe) that would go on a stealing spree without any care for the security system.
Chat’s grip on his staff tightened as he scanned the halls for his nemesis. She was the nightmare of Paris for almost six years now. And while she was not robbing simple people, there wasn’t any museum, gallery and private collection that had been spared. And more often than Chat would have liked to admit, she got away with it. He didn’t even want to think how many millions if not billions of euros had been lost because of her. Damn her.
Chat’s eyes scanned the hall he was in, feeling a little bit creeped out by the eyes in the portraits almost following him. He was never a fan of museums at night. Sometimes he wished he could just the exact place where Miss Fortune was. Not that he was worried she will escape. She never left without a fight. More often than not, Chat felt she was doing all these robberies with a clear purpose in mind: to drive him mad. Frankly, she was succeeding. With a sigh, he stopped in place focusing on the noise. His cat ears twitched as he heard a faint noise. from somewhere afar and a little to the west.
He sprinted down the hall until he was close enough to hear better. He began moving with stealth again, his steps trailing the little noises he was hearing. His tail flicked anxiously as he stepped in one of the big rooms of the basement. Boxes of all sizes, sculptures wrapped in sheets covered in dust and even some paintings lying around. The sight almost made him sad, but he didn’t have time to linger on that. He kept his guard up as he stepped further into the room, being prepared for any surprise attack. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was a fancy chair that probably belonged in the court of Louis de 14th. Put in the middle of an empty space and illuminated strangely by some candles in the back. He immediately spun around, throwing his baton at the target behind him that triggered a noise just one second before. Only to see that there was nothing before him.
“What the… ” his curse had turned into a yowl as someone jumped into his back, managing to knock him off his feet.
A pair of soft lips brushed against his ear shell. “Hello, handsome.”
Chat struggled as she sized his hands behind his back, making it impossible for him to use them. With a grunt of annoyance, he rolled on is back, trying to get rid of her, but it only aggravated the situation as she copied his move. It ended up with a tumble on the floor, until Miss Fortune managed to tie his hands with the string of her yoyo. Chat growled as she forced him to sit in the chair and wrapped the string around his body, managing to tie him to the chair.
“You, know, I’m almost disappointed for how easy you fell for that, kitten.” she said with a pout while taking a bundle of rope off her belt. She took a few steps towards him, slow, almost teasingly. It wouldn’t be the first time when Chat felt like he was the mouse and she was the cat. “But I could forgive you if you meow for me a little.”
Adrien just glared at her, clenching his teeth. She always liked to play with him and he knew very well giving her a reaction would only make her satisfied with herself. And he was too stubborn for that. His lack of reaction seemed to only make her pout further.
“Well, then. If you aren’t in the mood of talking I’ll just get to action too. And when you think I even settled the romantic atmosphere with the candles.” with a dramatic sigh, she got on her knees in front of him.
He did his best to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks as he tried to kick her away. Miss Fortune grabbed his leg and pinned it back down with ease. Glancing up at him with a scolding look, she chided him. “Bad chaton!”
He huffed annoyed, before redirecting his attention to her, keeping a close eye for any chance to free himself. She looked away from his face, her gaze sliding over his torso and then to his crotch. And by the way her lips curled into a predatory smirk, Chat was sure he was in trouble. Humming amusedly, she settled her hands on his thighs before spreading his legs wide open.
“What are you doing?” to his ultimate embarrassment, that was very much a squeak.
“Oh, but please, tell me, kitten. What happens usually when you have someone kneeling between your spread legs?”
Chat really wanted to give a witty reply, but frankly, he was pretty brain dead when she was staring at him with those bedroom eyes. Why was he cursed with a weakness for blue eyes?
And as if that wasn’t enough, she began running her hands up and down his thighs, agonizingly slow. And the suit wasn’t doing anything to decrease the feeling. It only stopped the pain from big hits, but gentle touches? They felt as if there was nothing between them besides a very thin sheet of silk. Chat beat his lips as she rested her head on his left thigh, her fingers trailing closer and closer to his crotch. He closed his eyes, trying to think about the most unpleasant things in the world, just not to get a boner. He could never forgive himself if he got a boner from her teasing in front of her.
(He got boners because of her before and he wouldn’t bother lying, but frankly, he was in private.)
She would never let him live it down. As if she didn’t wound his pride enough these years. That would be the last drop. He felt Miss Fortune shift and then, something being wrapped around his ankles. He opened his eyes only to find his ankles tied and Miss Fortune smirking up at him, some rope still in her hands.
“I liked you tied up.” he remarked casually before putting the rope over her shoulder and sitting in his lap.
Chat hissed. She was warm. And he had no doubt the way she was grinding on him, slowly was with a clear purpose in mind. Chat wanted to scream. Why couldn’t he have a normal enemy? One that found pleasure in kicking his ass, not in sexually frustrating him? No, apparently that was too much to ask for. When he accepted being a superhero he certainly didn’t expect almost six years of flirting, banter and sexual tension that just seemed to increase in the latest months.
Miss Fortune nuzzled his nose. That gesture was way too sweet for someone who looked like she was one step away from eating him alive while dry humping him. And there was so much he could do to stop his dick from going hard while someone was grinding on him and it felt very much like it was skin on skin. Miss Fortune seemed extremely happy with her results so far.
“Do you like this, kitten?” she whispered in his ear in a sultry voice as she increased her rhythm, her hot core moving faster against his boner.
Chat let out a moan, dropping his head against her shoulder. This was humiliating, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much when he felt so good. He will regret this later, he knew, but frankly, he had limits where he simply couldn’t resist anymore. Miss Fortune was running her hands all over his body and Chat realized a few seconds too late she was tying him the rope and retrieving her yoyo.
“I fucking hate you.” he growled through gritted teeth. For what, he wasn’t sure. For being a nightmare to Paris? For humiliating him like that? For the fact that he was actually enjoying it? For outwitting him?
There was a slight gasp and soon all the warmth was gone. He looked up to see Miss Fortune glaring at him.
“That was the wrong thing to say.” she hissed before getting something out of a box on the side. “Bad kitties get punished.”
The next thing he knew was that Miss Fortune was leaning towards him with a piece of duct tape in her hands. She pressed it against his lips, before a smirk appeared on her face. She tilted her head, pressing her lips against his through the duct tape before gluing it to his face.
“That was for the language. You should learn how to dirty talk, kitten. ” she straightened her back. “You were very rude, I liked you better when you were moaning. And because you said that, then I won’t make you cum anymore.”
Going to another box that was laying near, she picked two pieces of jewelry. The turned to him, raising them for him to see.
“They supposedly belonged to Madame de Pompadour. And given you are here, I want to ask you for an opinion. Which one do you think fits me better?”
She raised each pair to her ears. “The sapphire ones or the ruby ones?” Chat gave an annoyed growl making er giggle. “Oopsie, I forgot I duct taped you. Oh well, nod once for sapphire, nod twice for ruby.”
She looked throughout amused as he didn’t react anyhow. “Well, I guess you are right. I should take both.”
Chat glared at her as she put the two pairs of earrings in one of her belt satchels.
“See you next time, beau gosse.” she said with a smirk, blowing him a kiss.
And with that, she simply strutted out of the hall, leaving a very annoyed Chat Noir with an unsolved boner behind.
JESSICA: What’s out there, Matt? It’s totally dark in this abandoned warehouse.
MATT: I’m not gonna lie to you, Jessica. It’s not good. There’s [pauses to listen] forty-seven dudes in there, at some of them sound like they’re carrying rifles but we have to assume they’re all armed, and [sniffs] at least ten of them have doused themselves in AXE Body Spray.
JESSICA: You can tell how many by smell?
MATT: Enhanced senses aren’t always a blessing, Jessica. Wilson Fisk eats an omelette every day. You wanna ask me how I know that?
JESSICA: [Thinks] EWWWWW.
MATT: Right. And if you kick him in the stomach, it just [makes a fart noise] right out. It’s gross to you, and a World War One chemical weapons attack to me. Hang on, Luke’s coming.
[Enter LUKE Cage]
LUKE: Sorry I’m late, guys. I had three Ubers cancel on me once they saw they were picking up a black man.
MATT: Wait, Luke’s black?
LUKE: Very funny, Matt. What’s the situation?
JESSICA: We’ve got 47 armed guys, in a pitch black warehouse, between us and the hostage.
LUKE: If it’s pitch black, we’ve got to conclude they’ve got night vision.
JESSICA: Yeah. Good thing we’re both bulletproof. And Matt’s here’s good at sneaking around.
LUKE: Yeah. So. We go on three? One… Two…
MATT: Wait! Is that [sniffs] patchouli?
JESSICA: Oh, no.
[Enter DANNY Rand]
DANNY: Hey guys!
LUKE: [longsuffering sigh] Hi, Danny.
DANNY: I didn’t get the text that we were meeting up!
JESSICA: That’s because we aren’t going up against Cobra Kai, Danny. These guys have guns. And night vision goggles. Matt can fight in total darkness, Luke and I are bulletproof, and you…
DANNY: I’m the Iron Fist!
JESSICA: Christ almighty. Did they name you “Iron Fist” because of your uncontrolled erections as a teenager? Last time out you hid behind Luke the whole time. Listen, one of these assholes puts a bullet in your abdomen and Matt’s not going to be able to come within a hundred yards of you because of the smell of your colostomy bag.
DANNY: Leave Matt out of this.
JESSICA: Am I right?
MATT: Yeah, you’re right. Uggggggggh.
JESSICA: Your superpower is you’re a guy who “knows kung-fu.” You’re so white you don’t even know kung fu is not a martial art, Daniel-san.
DANNY: Don’t call me that!
JESSICA: What? Daniel-San? You prefer Danny Rand? Really? Was Annie Rand a little too on-the-nose for your parents, rich boy? You do this John Galt thing for twelve years and you’re supposed to be SAVING us? And K’unlun isn’t even a real country! You know where the Kunlun mountains are? Afghanistan!
MATT: Really? Afghanistan?
DANNY: Tibet, actually.
JESSICA: If you were in Tibet, why don’t you say Tibet? President of the Dave Matthews Fan Club here spends twelve years in a training camp in the mountains of central Asia and the Customs and Border Protection folks don’t say a fucking word about it, just let his ass in like it was nothing!
DANNY: Look, I…
LUKE: Obama went to elementary school in Indonesia when he was eight, and Dinesh D’Souza made like three movies calling him a terrorist because of it. Your pasty ass spends his formative years spitting distance from Tora Bora and we’re supposed to be “Oh, Danny Rand! So exotic!” Sweet Christmas–you’re oblivious.
DANNY: Hey! I lost my parents there!
LUKE: Everyone here who’s lost their parents in some sort of catastrophe with possible criminal ramifications, raise your hand. Yep, that’s unanimous. Try again. Wait, don’t. Look at us, Danny. Matt is disabled. Jessica came through a psychosexual horrorshow I don’t even want to imagine. I’m a black man with a criminal record. You’re a billionaire who spent a dozen years studying abroad. You should be building an art car made out of weed for Burning Man using your trust fund, not going up against an armed paramilitary force.
DANNY: This is…reverse discrimination! It’s just because I’m a white guy! I’ve worked to earn everything I had.
JESSICA: Yeah. You’re the majority shareholder in a multinational corporation and you’ve never graduated high school. You read and write English at an eighth-grade level because you stopped speaking it at age 12. You can’t balance a checkbook, drive a car, or bring a woman to orgasm, although you don’t know about the last one because women lie to you to spare your feelings–and the aforementioned multinational corporation.
DANNY: I don’t have to listen to this! I’m outta here.
LUKE: You think we were a little hard on him?
JESSICA: He was gonna get somebody killed.
LUKE: Yeah, you’re probably right. Okay, we doing this? On three. One… Two…
I just had got the image of Licht wearing Hyde’s glasses in my head and now I really want to see fan art of it XD Imagine Licht trying them on while he thinks Hyde is asleep but Hyde catches him and just goes “I didn’t think you could be more attractive but you are so cute right now! Let’s go out and buy matching glasses!”
Ok so I have a hc that after Amanda booted Kim off the cheerleading team she took up some other after school sport. You she where this is heading right?? THATS RIGHT TRIMBERLY FIGHT AT A SOCCER GAME AU with some Jason X Billy. I honestly don’t know where this came from but I hope you enjoy :))))) warning: some homophobia and language.
Trini hated mornings like these. Mornings where she had to get up at 7 am just cause her stupid, beautiful girlfriend had a soccer game. The mornings were made even worse when she missed breakfast, and seeing as she was already late, she knew it was going to be a bad day.
“God why did have to date a soccer player?,” Trini grumbled as she got out of bed.
A knocking at her window disrupted her grumpy brooding.
“Hey yellow.” Trini recognized the voice instantly. A pair of strong arm wrapped around her middle. Kim pecked Trini softly on the cheek.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at your game?” Trini asked.
Kim got a mischievous look in her eye,
“Well I was on my way when I remembered a certain cute ranger.”
“Why are you talking about Billy like that?” Kim laughed at her girlfriends sarcasm.
“Come on crazy girl we’re gonna be late for my game.” Kim teased.
“It’s only funny when you call me that.” Trini retorted.
Kim smiled lazily back at her. “Don’t let Zack hear you.”
Together the girls rode to the school in Kimberly’s pink jeep listening to seventeen by Alessia Cara.
The game was coming to the end of the second quarter. The angel grove team was losing by 5 points. Trini watched from the bleachers as her girl played forward center.
“God she’s terrible isn’t she,” Trini felt her blood boil as she recognized the god awful voice as none other than Kimberly’s old cheer friends.
“It’s a miracle she can even run with those chicken legs of hers,” the girls laughed.
Trini turned to the girls so fast it was a miracle she didn’t get whiplash.
“What the fuck are you looking at dyke?” Amanda sneered.
“I think I’m looking at the girl who’s about to have two black eyes if she doesn’t shut the hell up,” Trini snapped.
Amanda looked taken aback for a moment before her dog like snarl etched itself back onto her face.
“Or what,” she retorted “are you gonna punch my tooth out like your little girlfriend did to poor Tye.” Amanda laughed at her remark.
Trini was two seconds away from punching Amanda square in the jaw when she felt someone’s hand on her shoulder. Trini turned to see Billy and the boys. Billy turned to Amanda with a look in his eye that Trini had only seen when they were fighting Rita in their zords.
Billy spoke calmly and slowly.
“Please stop talking about Kimberly like that and leave Trini alone.”
Amanda looked at Billy as she sized him up. She took a step closer.
“Are you and your boyfriend going to make me? God are all five you you fags?” Amanda looked incredibly bored at the situation.
“I can’t believe Kimberly had to resort to hanging with a retarded kid, a lesbian, the school disappointment, and the stupid Asian.”
Billy looked down in fear. Jason’s face had never resembled his suit more. Zack looked like he was one second away from killing someone. Trini actually wanted to murder Amanda.
“God the only thing worse that you four losers the other dyke on the field.” Amanda spit her words out.
“WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Trini yelled before tackling Amanda to the ground. The boys tried to get between them before Trini yelled at them to stay back.
Unfortunately for Trini Amanda was still taller than her and unsurprisingly flexible. They wrestled around on the ground for a minute before Amanda finally pinned Trini to the ground and threw a punch to her face. Trini’s nose started bleeding almost instantly. Before she could throw another punch Amanda was on her back and Trini had unleashed her fury on the head cheerleader. Amanda got up before Trini could throw anymore punches to her now bruising face. Amanda threw a swift kick to Trini’s head. Trini saw stars colluding her vision. Before the fight could continue they heard someone shout.
“GET OFF MY GIRLFRIEND YOU ASSHOLE!” Both girls turned and saw a blur of short black hair head straight for Amanda.
“You can make fun of me all you want but NEVER touch her!” Kimberly shoved Amanda into the bleachers. The fight was over as soon as it started. The coach pulled Kimberly off Amanda before yelling at her.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT HART?!” Coach looked from Kim to Amanda to Trini.
“WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A GAME. YOU CAN’T JUST RUN OFF THE FIELD BECAUSE SOMEONE IS PICKING A FIGHT WITH YOUR GIRL.” Kim looked back at coach with equal vigor.
“YOU’RE BANNED FROM THE TEAM FOR THE REST OF THE SEASON!” Coached barked at her.
Coach suddenly turned to Amanda.
“AND YOU! YOU CAN BET YOUR ASS YOU’RE OFF THE CHEER SQUAD FOR THE REST OF THE SEASON!”
Amanda stomped away in a fury muttering something about coach that was definitely not school appropriate.
The Rangers piled into Kim’s car without another word.
Billy was the first one to break the silence.
“Kim I’m sorry we got you kicked off the soccer team.” Kim sighed in frustration.
“It’s ok Billy, it’s just a sport.” Billy smiled at Kim from he back seat.
Jason turned down to Billy and put an arm around his shoulders.
“Babe I’m sorry about what Amanda said. You’re not retarded, you’re the smartest guy I know.” Jason pecked Billy on his cheek.
Billy was blushing shyly now. Kim dropped the boys off by the entrance to the mine.
Trini hadn’t said a word the entire ride. Kim pulled up to her driveway and she and Trini made there way inside. Kimberly took a look at Trini’s face and pulled her into the bathroom.
“Hey,” she spoke softly “Trini look at me.” Trini looked up and immediately regretted it. As soon as she stared into those deep brow eyes she knew she was sunk.
“KimI'msorryigotyoukickedofftheteambutAmandawasbeingsuchabitchandand,” Kimberly silenced Trini with a kiss. Kim brought her hand up and caressed the cut on Trini’s lip.
“Calm down babe it’s ok. I think Amanda deserved it.” Trini breathed a sigh of relief.
“Besides,” Kim went on “It was hot to see you defend me like that.” Trini laughed into Kim’s hand.
Kimberly took the first aid kit and cleaned Trini’s cuts and bruises.