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jimmy-valmer-official · 1 year ago

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Hi I am a really old man...I donot know how to use "TUMBLR"...but can u writ e astory about how "JIMMY VALMER" get KIDNAPPED by "NATHAN" and then there is...Epic fight Battle scene

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Lmao sure! Tbh the only way I could envision this happening was if there were like, some sort of hero/villain dynamic, so… superhero au!

i dunno if i’d call this fight scene “epic,” but it’s certainly something…

posting it here too v

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The sound of a clock ticked on softly, the gentle tick’s of the second hand merging into each other, the pacing not quite right.

Or maybe Jimmy was just too dazed to process it right, only half awake as he laid on what he could only assume was hard tile in the middle of a cold bedroom, yawning and scrubbing his eyes with the edge of his palm. He had been unconscious just a few minutes prior, and now he was struggling to keep his eyes open to figure out where he was.

He could feel the familiar weight of his headphones attached securely to his head, and in his foggy awareness, he clumsily reached up to touch them with his fingers. He racked his sluggish mind and tried to figure out what he could have possibly been doing before this that required him to be in uniform, but nothing immediately came to mind.

He blinked a few times, and just then, a shadow cast over his face and a familiar voice called his name from above him. It admittedly startled him a bit.

“Oh, you woke up.” His voice was on the slower side, as if every word was deliberately being planned out, and his words were pronounced in a way that was just slightly off. It was deeply familiar, and for a fraction of a second, Jimmy was reminded of summer camp. “I was kind of hoping you were dead.”

His vision focused gradually, and as it did, he finally recognized the person standing above him. His uneasiness fizzled out in a matter of seconds. “Oh… Nathan? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?”

Jimmy squinted at him for a moment and then slowly propped himself up on his elbow before sitting up, a confused expression settling on his face as he looked around. The bedroom was… simple, really. There was a small bed in one corner and some miscellaneous movie posters with rugged looking people on them scattered around the walls. A few pieces of trash were on the ground.

But it certainly wasn’t his bedroom. It must have been Nathan’s— the posters fit him rather well, after all. And, well, Nathan was standing right there.

Why was he at Nathan’s house, anyway…?

“Why’d- why- why did you… What's going on?” He asked. “I don’t remember coming over.”

“Well of course you don’t,” Nathan said with annoyance, stepping back a little and giving him an odd look. “I had to drag you over here myself. It was hard with so many people around.” He looked away, distantly watching the ceiling. “I had to sneak around in the alleyways... It was dirty work. But I managed.”

Jimmy tilted his head after a moment, confused. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why?” He repeated, wondering if Nathan hadn’t heard him correctly. “If you wanted to hang out, th- then you could’ve just asked. I’m free on Fridays.”

For some reason, Nathan seemed to ripple at this, scowling slightly. “What? No, that’s not what I meant! I don’t want to hang out with you! I— Ugh…”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “I took you to my house because I want to eliminate you. You’ve ruined my life enough times already, and I am so… fucking tired of it.”

“Um…” Jimmy scratched his head, trying to decipher the meaning of his words. “I don’t quite follow.”

“I’m going to kill you, Jimmy,” he said bluntly.

A beat of silence passed, and then Jimmy slightly smiled at him. “Oh, yeah? Wow, thu- thh… that’s pretty funny, Nathan. I didn’t know you liked jokes.”

Nathan gritted his teeth with frustration. “Damn it, this isn’t a joke! Ugh, you’re just as stupid as Mimsy… I hate you so much.”

“Your acting is fantastic,” Jimmy responded passively. “Have you ever considered joining th- the theater department?”

Nathan shot him a sharp glare that lasted a lot longer than necessary, and then he wiped his hands on his shirt and turned towards his closet. “I’m not about to deal with this right now. Just shut up and let me grab my murder weapon.”

“Murder weapon…?” Jimmy watched him carefully, and the sense of ease in his body flickered like a dying candle. “What do you mean? You wuh- you weren’t actually being serious, were you?”

Nathan glanced back at him as he wrapped his fingers around the closet handle. “Are you an idiot? Of course I was being serious. I’m going to kill you.”

Realization struck Jimmy like an electric shock as the dots connected in his head. His jaw dropped. “Hold on. Nathan, are you a bad guy…?”

“I’ve been a bad guy this whole time!” Nathan turned to him fully, his voice slightly raised now. “What part of that did you not understand?”

Jimmy frowned, thinking back to all of his previous encounters with him. It just didn’t make any sense. “…Really? I thought we were friends… R- really?”

“… I hate you so much.”

“Huh…” He glanced down, a little disappointed now. How had he not noticed before that Nathan disliked him? He could’ve sworn that he was just really competitive…

He scanned the room once more. Well… he didn’t really feel like dying today. He finally remembered what he had been doing before he got here— him and a few of the other heroes were searching for a gang of thieves, and then they got caught up in a fight with them in a parking lot. Jimmy remembered getting thrown into a wall, and then… well, he wasn’t sure what happened afterwards. Where had Nathan even come from?

And… Wait…

“…Hey, wh- where are my crutches?”

Nathan scoffed and turned back around, getting back on task and pulling open his closet. “Oh, those are long gone already. I threw them into a lake on the wau here.”

“You what?”

Silence.

Jimmy stared at Nathan for a long moment as he shuffled through a worn out looking box under some hung up clothing. He pushed things around for quite a while until he stopped, huffed, and then straightened up empty-handed. “Damn it… where is it?”

Jimmy was still stuck on the fact that his crutches were at the bottom of some lake.

“Hey, Nathan, come here for a second,” he said after a minute, and then his blank countenance became friendly. “It was a n- nh… it was a knife, wasn't it?”

To his relief, Nathan looked at him again, wide-eyed, and hesitated. “How the fuck did you know?”

“It’s right over here, next to me. You m- might’ve dropped it.”

Though he seemed distrustful at first, Nathan reluctantly separated from his closet and slowly walked over to him again. When he was close enough, he leaned over slightly to look at the empty spot at Jimmy’s side. “Where?”

And then Jimmy lurched forward, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and punched him square in the jaw.

Nathan cursed, staggering backwards for a moment from the impact as his hand shot up to grab his chin. Jimmy retracted his fist and glared at him, propping himself up slightly with his other arm.

“What the hell??” Nathan hissed after stumbling around for a few long seconds.

“You deserved that!” Jimmy exclaimed. “Do you have any idea how much those co—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Nathan ran forward and practically barreled into him in a furious retaliation, crouching a bit to push him over with his momentum. Jimmy startled as he crashed into the ground, his back painfully slamming onto the solid floor. Nathan’s knees pressed into his legs as he clambered on top of him and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“That fucking hurt!” He said angrily, and before Jimmy could respond, he punched him back, slamming his fist into his cheek.

And he punched hard.

Jimmy was only dazed for a second or two, and then the adrenaline kicked in.

Before Nathan could attack him again, Jimmy reached up and pushed against his chest with as much force as he could muster, successfully shoving him off. Nathan landed on his chest beside him, and Jimmy swiftly got off of his back and crawled over to him. Nathan tried to lift himself up with shaky arms, and when Jimmy tried to push him back down with his own body weight, pressing his hand against his back to try and get him on the ground again, Nathan twisted slightly and tightly grabbed his wrist.

They wrestled with each other for a good minute or so, pushing at each other and occasionally trying to land hits on each other. At some point, Jimmy’s headphones were knocked off of his head, and they clattered against the ground beside them. They both managed to get a few nasty punches in, but neither of them dared to call it quits.

But when the abrupt sound of the window opening cut through the air, they froze, the sounds of their scuffle instantly halting. They both looked towards the window in a perfectly preserved position of violence— Nathan’s hand was clutching Jimmy’s sleeve and his nose was bleeding, and Jimmy’s fist poised just inches away from Nathan’s face.

The intruders, unsurprisingly, were none other than three of Jimmy’s trusted teammates, Mysterion, Mosquito, and Human Kite, each in their respective uniforms; they all took in the picture in front of them with evident surprise, staring for a long time, seemingly frozen as well.

Nathan was the first to break the awkwars silence, letting go of Jimmy in an instant and quickly pulling away from him. Jimmy landed flat on his stomach with a quiet ‘oof’ as a result. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

With that, the others snapped out of their trance and quickly bustled into the room. Human Kite lingered behind as Mysterion quickly went and stood between Jimmy and Nathan, facing the latter with his hands slightly raised as if prepared to take action if Nathan were to try to fight him. But Nathan only stood there with a somewhat cautious yet annoyed expression, backing away slightly in reluctant surrender.

Mosquito urgently scurried over to Jimmy and gently lifted him to help him sit up, resting a hand on his back and shoulder to support him. “Woah, hey, are you alright, Ji— Fastpass?”

Right. They were supposed to be undercover. Nathan knew who Jimmy was, but he didn’t know the identity of any of the other heroes. Jimmy had almost forgotten that.

“Y- yeah,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek. He could feel his adrenaline rush quickly receding, but his heart was still pounding. “I’m fine...”

“What the fuck happened?” Human Kite asked from the back, looking from Jimmy to Nathan and then back again. “We were all fighting together and then you just disappeared, dude. We were really worried.”

“Yeah, we only found you because you had your headphones’ signal on,” Mosquito said. One of his wings twitched behind him, fueled solely by nerves. “But it cut off a few minutes before we got here. Thank god Mysterion’s memory is so reliable, bzzt.”

Mysterion’s tone was much more serious than the other two’s, almost threateningly so. “I’m guessing this guy abducted you since you were both fighting, right?” He kept his attention fixated on Nathan. “I can take care of him if you want. It’ll be easy.”

Jimmy couldn’t see Mysterion’s expression, but he could tell by the shift from agitation to slight uneasiness on Nathan’s face that it wasn’t a pleasant one. Although Jimmy was still upset with him, something in his gut twisted, and a pang of sympathy shot through him.

He locked eyes with Nathan for a single moment, but the silent message that passed between them was far too complicated to understand.

The smartest thing to do would be to tell Mysterion to have at it, but…

Maybe a part of him still saw him as a friend, or maybe he just felt bad for him. But for whatever reason, Jimmy slouched slightly and his gaze drifted away from Nathan as he shook his head.

“N- no, Mysterion, it’s okay. I came here on my own to settle… pu- personal matters with him. Leave him alone.”

Mysterion looked at him and his stance faltered. “Wait, what? Are you sure?”

Jimmy nodded. A mixture of utter confusion, relief, and something much more ambiguous settled on Nathan’s features, and it filled Jimmy with an odd sense of satisfaction.

His heart stopped pounding so fast. Everything seemed to settle.

A powerful sense of fatigue settled in his aching body, and he leaned a bit more into Mosquito with a huff. In response to the added weight, Mosquito jumped slightly and quickly scrambled to get a better hold on him.

“Jesus…” Jimmy began. “Who- who knew that f- fuh- fucking people up would be so taxing.”

Human Kite approached him and crouched down in front of him, looking him over carefully, likely checking his injuries. “Well yeah, what did you expect?” He asked sarcastically. His gaze lingered on a spot on the side of Jimmy’s face that Nathan had punched with a notable amount of vigor.

Human Kite lifted a finger and gently pressed on it, and Jimmy stiffened with discomfort, ducking his head away. The other hummed thoughtfully. “We’ll have to patch you up at the base. Come on, we should go… Or, uh. Huh.”

He looked around for a moment, clearly puzzled.

“Where are your crutches?”

Mysterion watched him curiously now, Nathan awkwardly looking up at the ceiling again. Mosquito buzzed quietly behind him.

Jimmy hesitated, and then he awkwardly laughed.

“Broke ‘em.”

#jimmy valmer #south park #sp #fanfic #phanfic tag #superhero au #fastpass

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lightcreators · 6 days ago

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@ioadice continue from here

“Wooow! To be locked up in a room with Komaeda-chan, I must be really lucky today,” he laughs as if nothing was wrong—but, well, what else could he do but laugh?

The situation was already absurd as it was, that it looped back around to being kinda, very slightly, marginally funny. Who knows what or who placed them in here ( the thought of having a blank in his memory makes him bite his tongue, but escaping was a higher priority right now, and oh boy did he enjoy a good escape room! ) and he paces back and forth restlessly.

Kokichi was never one to stay still, after all. He's already triple checked the door, singular, with no keyhole so he couldn't magically pick the lock ( tch, as if them being in here was premeditated ), there were zero windows—even if they were, he'd bet one yen that they'd be barred shut anyways—and it was barren, sans for a few pieces of furniture. And, much like Komaeda remarked, the room was small, claustrophobic, even. Jeez, he's been in basements larger than... this. Did they have no budget for a bigger room?

Still―weirdness aside, this all did tickle the brain. Putting aside the question of ‘who the hell would lock him and Komaeda of all people in a room ( like, really??? )’, the room itself was oddly decorated－with bits and pieces of random toys—puzzles, probably—scattered about, almost begging to be solved. Perhaps, his comparison to an escape room wasn't too far fetched.

...Not that he wanted to play their game. Maybe later. Or maybe if Komaeda decides to get up and do it himself, because he's shown no sign of moving from his seat at all. If anything, he seems pretty content, or, well, Kokichi just assumes anyways because he seems pretty positive about the whole locked in a room thing.

Sighing dramatically, he drapes himself on a chair, picking one of the stray objects on a nearby table and fiddling with it with both his hands. “Am I finally going to witness how your luck operates with my own two eyes? I'm sooo excited—who knows what amazing things that could happen!!”

He heard about him, obviously. He heard about Ouma Kokichi, the Ultimate Supreme Leader. Likewise, Ouma-kun heard about him. Heard about strangeness and indescriptible luck who followed him around --- an precious treasure, nothing visible that had allowed him to continue his insignificant life among the most wonderful geniuses, where his self imposed duty was to transform these raw materials into magnificent diamonds. Hope that can be created by surroundings Ultimate could shine in front of his presence, remaining an vulgar and pointless stepladder leading them to the creation of an great, new world. This has been the first thoughts who welcomed consciousness of an landscape change. This has been the introduction of the casual L U C K he had to be trapped with Ouma-kun. How many time the Ultimate Supreme Leader would have imagined perceiving him 'in action' ? How many curious gaze he had given from afar towards the other Ultimate, wanting to see in which manner he was the Ultimate Supreme Leader ? Awareness over his personality, compared to how other Ultimate reacted towards Ouma-kun, didn't bother him at all. Lies were hiding between every single sentence he was expressing ? Truth had to be found inside how he was reacting in middle of circumstances ? Always remaining guarded by hiding himself inside various masks ? Why it should be matter when it came to him ? Inside their particular circumstances, Ouma-kun would have to watch over the pathetic being he was affliging the world of his presence, Ouma-kun would dealing with his trashing existence. It meant he would bear him. It would he would accepting hom, as so far, they had remained locked in the room, he didn't complained. Actually, quite the opposite, in which there was an complete absence of care if he actually was happy to be trapped with him. On his side, he was lucky ! On his side, he would be certain to creating that situation another H O P E. Quest of Hope mattered the most regardless the circumstances, and within an situation when either of their life were threatened, why would he took too much importance of the truth ? Impression of not feel like an corpse remaining attached to his position, sensation of feel alive resonated as Ouma-kun answer echoed in the room.

He hadn't moved of the sitting place he had been. He hadn't counted exactly how many time they had remained here, dealing only with each other in silence. Nevertheless, Ouma-kun was sensing pressured, right ? He had witnessed him try to open that door, when the idea of an closed room pumped him in an strange manner amusingly. He had witnessed him, just as him, watching every corner of the room. That door that cannot be opened, absence complete of windows giving no perspection of where they could be exactly, complete emptiness of furtniture who inscreased the ligthness of the room, and these puzzles as decorations --- How, this was an honor to both the Ultimates they were ? Of course, neither him was remembering circumstances in which he ended up … here. Slight despair he could have feel towards the information instead created that soothing emotion, the information itself wasn't important, he had forget such parts as another proof of his luck. ❝ You seem agitated, Ouma-kun. ❞ He answered quietly without move of his position, offering an brightful smile, looking over purple eyes with his green eyes. ❝ There's no need to be so agitated. I'm sure the mastermind who locked us in here wanted us to interact. Can you imagine that ? Someone wanting me personally with me, worthless trash that I am ? We must be a new attraction, a lot of people must be watching us, or in the shadow of those spotlights, we are pieces of a game. Haven't we given our respective classes so much happiness ? ❞ He mused with a certain frenzy in his words, eager to admire how those purple eyes would react emotionally to the increase in his words. Overpresence of puzzles around the room could assume, instead to have an solve it, they were the representation of them. Both represented two unsolved puzzles for the rest of their class. Both incarnated that perfect conception of an puzzle, in which every understood fragment would put in light complexity of every piece. ❝ Aren't we in safety, Ouma-kun ? Aren't we just alone with ourselves ? ❞ During each moment he had been speaking, he had studying every move of the Ultimate Surpreme Leader. Whatever understanding of an potential discomfort had been used in an hopeful manner, as he would manage to cheering him up if needed, simply because he wasn't permitted he was losing hope along the way. He didn't moved once more when Ouma-kun sitting down on an chair, searching to pass the time with nearly objects. Later, he would observing them. Later, he would inspecting the room. Someone considered his trashy existence as something valuable ! Someone didn't mind him ! He had to enjoy these sensations ! ❝ Ooooooh, but you've already witnessing my luck right now, Ouma-kun~ ❞ He expressed calmy as possible as his eyes remained on him. Every tragedy happening inside his existence was the sign his life will be wrapped inside unexpected happiness. Each dramatic instant when weight of despair embraced him mean opportunity of hope will fall. ❝ Aren't you the Ultimate Supreme Leader ? I don't think your organization will remain doing nothing once they will realize their leader have disappear, do they, Ouma-kun ? ❞ Sudden aggravation in his voice towards other Ultimate showed all hope he wanted to create though his hands, an single wish.

#ioadice #ic :: nagito komaeda #verse tbt.#long post /#ask to tag /#*internally screaming*#I'm sorry about Komaeda #i hadn't sensed the 900 words lmao #would have wished sympathy but way he acts apathetically wow

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tessiete · 3 years ago

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hii so idrk if u take reqs but can we have some korkie and obi-wan on fathers day?

Well, I have no concept of time, BUT I have finally completed this prompt! Hope you find it, anon, and I hope it lives up to your desires! Featuring cameos from Anakin, and Satine! Buituur = Parent's Day (It's become a full week, at this point!) Ijaat'ilor = Honour Meal Amalios = August(ish) (Basic) Haa'Tabguri = February(ish) (Mando'a) Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum = I love you. Alright, I think that's all the preamble! HERE WE GO!!

Master Kenobi has never missed a single Buituur Festival - not in all the seven years that Kiorkicek has been on Coruscant. Every year, with careful diligence, his master has marked off the dates on the little chronocalendar posted just at the door of Korkie’s room. It is always one standard week, but it always changes.

“It is based on the cycle of the moons,” his master says. “And there are two to keep track of, you know.”

“Yes!” Korkie agrees, eager to display the quality of his education. “Concordia, for eternal friendship, and Amity, for change.”

“Very good, Kiorkicek,” says his master, as he uses his stylus to draw a thick line across five days near the end of Amalios, which Korkie knows will be sometime in Haa’Tabguri on Mandalore.

“And will we go again this year?” he asks, bouncing on his seat. The thin pallet of his bed doesn’t rebound with the same elasticity as the one on Mandalore, but that’s alright - his enthusiasm is buoyant enough.

“Of course,” says his master, just as he knew he would, and Korkie grins.

“Thank you, Bebu! Thank you!”

His father understands, and his father would never miss it.

But the turn of the stars serves no single man’s purpose, and events conspire to grind promises to ash. Four years later, they are somewhere else, somewhere far away when Buituur Festival comes, and they cannot make it.

“You promised,” he says, cloak drawn tight to his body as he slides down the co-pilot seat, propping his feet on the dash. “You said we would be back in plenty of time.”

“I know what I said, Kiorkicek, but I was wrong.”

His master flicks a switch, calculating a sedate and altogether conservative flightplan back to Coruscant. Korkie watches the numbers scroll, and scoffs. Anakin would laugh at such a course. Anakin would die of shame if Obi-Wan were his master.

“So you lied,” Korkie says, toeing at one of the atmocontrols with his boot.

“Feet off, please,” says Obi-Wan. “I didn’t lie. I miscalculated.”

Korkie swings his legs to the floor, and stands with all the indignant wrath of a sullen fifteen year old. “Same thing,” he sneers, then he sweeps out the door to find his bunk.

The ship is too small for true privacy, and he’s compelled to share the narrow quarters with his father, but he’s not feeling particularly generous right now, so he shuts the door, and locks it behind him. Master Kenobi can sleep in the cockpit for all he cares.

He flops onto his bed, and throws his boots aside, unpolished. His cloak he drops in an untidy pile beside his bed. Let it crease, he thinks, as he pulls his tabards loose and flings his belt to the floor to join them. Let them wrinkle. I hope I lose them all. From the depths of his rucksack, still splattered with mud from their uncivilised flight, and hasty departure, he digs out a battered Temple issued comlink. Beneath his feet, he feels the rumble of engines drop to something subaural, and his stomach bottoms out to follow. For a moment, he feels weightless, like he sits at the top of a huge fall, but then he comes back to himself, and he flings himself backward over his bed. They’ve entered hyperspace.

No matter. It won’t get them anywhere fast enough to turn back time. Forget Anakin’s embarrassment - if it takes them sixteen years to return to Coruscant Korkie couldn’t care less. It’d still be too late.

He flicks through his comdeck to find Anakin’s number, and pings him.

“What?”

Anakin’s voice fills the room, staticky with distance and movement. There’s no image, so Korkie assumes he’s in the middle of something.

“Hello to you, too.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” says Anakin, confirming Korkie’s hypothesis.

Korkie runs his hand through his hair in distress. “Well, I’m absolutely in the middle of nowhere,” he bemoans. “You should see the course my father set for this trip. I think Master Yaddle is a braver pilot than he is.”

“That sounds like Obi-Wan,” says Anakin. “One sec.”

There is the shuffle of fabric over the amplifier, and then muffled voices in the background. He thinks he hears Master Qui-Gon, and maybe distant blaster fire. A typical mission for the Jinn-Skywalker team. At least they have some excitement.

“You still there?” asks Anakin, a few minutes later.

“Nowhere else to be,” Korkie sighs.

“What’s wrong with your dad?” he asks, and Korkie frowns.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Why would you ask?”

“I dunno,” replies Anakin. He can hear the distraction in his voice. “Why else would you be calling me?”

Korkie sighs, making sure it is extravagant enough to be heard over the com. “Because I’m suffering,” he says.

Anakin’s tone hardly changes. Still that distracted disinterest. “Okay, well, tell him to call Master Jinn when he can. Something about remembering to bring back some nadashaap leaves from Sundari, or something.”

“We’re not going to Sundari.”

“Mandalore,” says Anakin. “Wherever. Look, I’ve really got to go. I - yes, master! I see them!” A lightsaber hums. “Korkie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got to go.”

“May the Force be with you,” he says, but Anakin’s already signed off.

He ought to call his mother, and explain. She answers almost immediately, and he feels guilty - had she been waiting?

“Korkie, my love!” Her face appears, tinted blue and blurred with the flickering light of a hologram, but it is her, and Korkie aches to see her smile. “How are you, darling?”

“Fine,” he says, but he cannot smile in return.

“Are you keeping up with your studies?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Your father says you have top marks in Core History, and Outer Rim Politics of the Colonial Age, but that you failed your last assignment in Pollinators and Pests in Basic Agriculture.”

Korkie frowns. “Well, if you already know that, then why did you ask?”

“Korkie?” she says. Her voice turns inquisitive, and he hates the fragile note of hurt in the tone. He wishes now there were no hologram, and that he hadn’t called at all.

“Sorry, Belli,” he says, bowing his head, and picking at his fingers so that she can’t see the shame burn across his cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, all hurt transformed to concern, and that is almost worse.

“Nothing,” he says.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Is your father -”

“Master Kenobi is fine,” he says. “Why does everybody ask?”

His mother recoils. Her image flickers as her expression shifts, and she lifts a brow in suspicion.

“Master Kenobi?” she repeats. “Not Bebu? Not father? What’s wrong?”

He lets out a groan, knowing that he cannot hide any longer. “It’s Buituur week,” he says.

“And?”

“And, perhaps it is nothing to you, but you may have noticed we are not there!”

“I had noticed, cyar’ika,” she says, calm and soothing even in the face of his simmering upset. She speaks as though it is not the betrayal he knows it is. “Your father called me before you left Parvis to tell me you wouldn’t be back.”

“Oh.”

“Did he not warn you?” she asks.

“No,” he replies. “He did.” He is angry, but he cannot lie. He will not slander his father with falsehoods, but neither will he defend him. “But he promised. He said - every year we would always go home for Buituur. Always.”

“And you have,” she says. “This is the first year that hasn’t been possible.”

“So he lied.”

His mother is taking none of this. He turns away so that he cannot see her lips press into a frown, and her brows draw together in displeasure.

“He didn’t lie, Kiorkicek,” she says, with the dreaded use of his full name. His mother never uses his full name. His father never shortens it. “He didn’t know you would be stuck in weeks of negotiations.”

“Then he shouldn’t have accepted an assignment so far away!” he retorts, some of the heat in his cheeks moving to his stomach to stoke those banked fires of indignation.

“It is his duty,” the Duchess reminds him. “And yours. Or do you think yourself above your vows?”

He rolls his eyes, and flicks his braid. “No,” he says.

“Excuse me?” his mother asks, a warning in her tone.

“No, ma’am,” he replies, just as testily.

His mother tuts, and Korkie tightens his jaw, biting back his resentment. For a moment, there is a strained silence between them, like the elasti-band tension between two armies before the first shot is fired. But some of his father must have rubbed off on him, because Korkie relents first, the rigidity of his spine softening, and he wilts into loose limbed resignation.

“I’m just...disappointed,” he says. “I miss you.”

“Oh, my love,” Satine says. “I miss you, too. Always. But I will see you soon, yes? Your leave will just be a bit later this year.”

“But we’ll have missed the festival.”

“Do you miss me, or do you miss the festival?” his mother demands, with a playful lilt, intent now on jollying him out of his gloom.

“You, of course,” he says, tucking a reluctant smile away before she catches him at it.

“Then it doesn’t matter when I see you,” she says. “The festival is only meant to be a reminder: honour your parents, and celebrate them.”

“I know,” he says. “That’s what I wanted to do. Honour you.”

“You know, Korkie, you have two parents.”

He cocks his head, and looks up at her sharply. “Well, yes!” he says. “But I’m always with bebu.”

“So?”

“So I wanted this week to be about you.”

“But we have decided that is impossible,” she says. “So how else might you celebrate it?”

He finds his father slumped over a datapad in the tiny galley, a cup of tea at his elbow. Korkie touches it as he sits down across from Master Kenobi, and feels that the ceramplast has grown cold with time, the liquid in it only half drunk. Obi-Wan looks up, blinking away the blur of distraction at his arrival.

“Kiorkicek -”

“I just wanted to apologise,” Korkie says, not waiting for his father to speak. Perhaps that might be considered impolite, but he knows that he is in the wrong, and he doesn’t want his father to excuse him before he can express his regret. “I’m sorry that I blamed you for the delay in Parvis, and I’m sorry that I was so unkind to you. I know that you couldn’t have foreseen that we would miss Buituur Festival, and that it was unfair to accuse you of lying. I was disappointed, but that is no excuse for my behaviour, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

His father is nonplussed. “Well…” he says, slipping his hands into the folds of his cloak. “Well, thank you. And I apologise for being unable to -”

“- To command time?” Korkie cracks a smile. “It wasn’t your fault, bebu. Don’t apologise.”

“Bebu?” says Obi-Wan, eyes sparkling. “Now I know I am forgiven.”

Korkie leans over the table to bring his father close, and pulls his hand from out his sleeve. He holds it between his own, and draws it to his lips leaving a delicate, reverential kiss upon the knuckles.

“Always,” Korkie vows. “And just because we can’t be home for Buituur Week doesn’t mean we cannot celebrate it.”

“Oh?”

“Yes!” Korkie says. He releases his father’s hand, and leaps to his feet. “Now, I know that we are rather limited in our supplies, but I am not limited in my creativity, and I have a plan. Belli says that one of the most important traditions of Buituur is the Ijaat’ilor.”

“The honour meal.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I am certain that we might come up with something suitable enough, and arrange a holocall with your mother so that you might dine together -”

“No, not with belli, alor,” says Korkie. “With you.”

“Me?”

“Are you not also my buir?”

“I am,” says Obi-Wan.

“Then I would honour you,” says Korkie.

He shifts away to search the stores and cupboards, seeking something moderately edible, something that may be reconstituted into a feast fit to exalt his master suitably enough, but in the hollow, ascetic reserves of their tiny ship there is nothing to match his desire. He gathers what he can, combining this packet with that tin, and adding the few spices that he knows his father can tolerate. He is done in minutes, thanks to the dull efficiency of ready-pack meals, and he sets a steaming plate of instant noodles, and nutricubes before him. As a last minute touch, he boils a little more of their precious water reserves and steeps a fresh cup of tea for his father.

Then, he sits, and together they lift their grub-sticks to sample his work.

His father chews, swallows, and sips at his tea, wincing slightly at the heat. Korkie grimaces in distaste.

“Well,” says Obi-Wan. “At least it’s hot.”

Korkie shoves his plate away, his heart sinking down to his scuffed up boots.

“I’m sorry, bebu,” he says. “I did try.”

“I know you did, my one. It is not your fault. There is nothing to be salvaged from ration packs.”

“But I wanted to please you,” Korkie protests. “I wanted to show you how I admire you. I wanted to honour you for Buituur Week.”

Obi-Wan pushes his plate to join Korkie’s at the side, and stands. With a single step, he is around the edge of the table, and kneeling at his son’s feet. Korkie doesn’t resist when his father tugs him to the end of the bench, turning him to face him where he waits, and taking his hands in his.

“You always please me,” his father says. “You always honour me. Kiorkicek, I do not need Ijaat’ilor, I do not need Buituur Week. You honour me every day, just by being you, and it is my admiration I must express. I am so proud of you, my son. So proud. And I am honoured to be your father.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, bebu,” Korkie says, throwing his arms around his father’s neck.

His father wraps his own around him in turn, and holds him close. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Kiorkicek Kryze. Always.”

#korkie kenobi #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #anakin skywalker #my fic #prompt fill #hereeeeee for the anon!#father's day #thank you! <3

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getofy · 4 years ago

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touch (b.k)

bakugo x gn!reader; no spoilers; fluff; mentions of bakusquad

cw: just pinin’ katsuki </3; lil’ suggestive if u squint ? ; he’s also mean here, but i mean, when is he not?

wc: 457

my favorite rhetorical device is repetition and it rlly shows in this fic bruh pls. orginally, it was meant to be centered around touch (since that is what i firmly believe katsuki’s love language is), but then it turned into this monstrosity? i apologize in advance for what you’re about to read. i was struggling so hard lol. i promise the other parts will be better aaa!!!

dt: my bakugo obsessed friend. i hope yesterday was better than the previous day was bubs. don’t stress urself out too much. katsuki is proud of you for working hard.

part 1/5 of the love languages series

—Bakugo Katsuki was not in love with you,

and he most certainly was not attracted to you.

To assume that he felt anything other than annoyance regarding your personality would be a gross misinterpretation. At best, you were every synonym for unremarkable, and at worst, you were a nuisance.

Simply put, you bugged him.

He was not keen on the honey-coated melody you called your voice, nor was he drawn to the intoxicating scent of your stupid shampoo. Absolutely nothing was alluring about you, and he acted as such. Though, the messy quartet of his self-proclaimed ‘friends’ would beg to differ.

According to them, he transformed into an incredibly helpless, sappy, and lovey-dovey puppy whenever you walked into the room. But so what? Nevermind what Kirishima, Denki, Mina, and Sero thought. As far as Bakugo was concerned, they knew absolutely nothing. His classmates had to be as dumb-as-dirt to believe that he had a ‘soft-spot’ for you.

Bakugo was tired of the conspiracies regarding the two of you’s relationship. This was because it was undeniably ordinary. Even calling it platonic would be pushing it. To him, what you two shared did not in any way grant Denki and Kirishima’s constant teasing.

It’s not nearly as big of a deal as they both make it out to be.

When he chooses to sit next to you, it’s because the seat neighboring your own just happened to be free, and not because he was chasing the tantalizing high that came from brushing his thigh against your own.

When your hands leave his own blistered covered ones, they only ache because of how ultra-sensitive his quirk makes them. Not because he secretly hopes that you’ll be back to keep them from being lonesome once more.

When he decides to pull you in close during a training exercise, it’s because he’s saving you from being demolished by a dummy. Who cares if he lets you hold onto him for a beat longer than what was deemed appropriate? It was only because breaking through your firm grip was more irritating than the way your hand felt against his bicep.

And when he turns in for the night, his mind only wanders to what it would feel like to press his lips against the back of your neck for a fleeting moment. A non-sensical daydream caused by temporary exhaustion. That was normal and nothing to be concerned about.

Sure, he would be the first to admit that there were certain traits about you that vexed him, but they could be explained away easily through simple logic and reasoning. Something that everyone except he and you seemed to lack.

There was no way Bakugo loved you.

So what were you doing to him?

*do not repost my work without proper credit and my explicit permission

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#lovelanguageseries #my hero academia #anime #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #mha valentines #bakugo katsuki x y/n #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo oneshot #mha oneshot

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bakugohoex · 4 years ago

Text

chapter one ➺ auld rivals

pairing: pro hero katsuki bakugo x pro hero female reader

cw: language and angry boi

word count: 2000+

a/n: omfg sorry for positing this at midnight but hope you guys like chapter one i think it’s starting off good so far and this is defo a slow burn so don’t expect action until later on

summary: in which you and bakugo are rivals always competing against one another, you get called into the commission late at night, unbeknownst that bakugo is there you arrive expecting nothing important but instead are met face to face with the president herself

masterlist | chapter two

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Blood dripped from the side of his face, his breathing heavy and resting on his lips was a smirk. The god damn cocky smile that you wanted to punch out of him. “Fucking hell Y/n only 10 people saved, someone’s doing shit.” You scowled how could he talk about saving people when you were the one who was making sure buildings stopped falling on him and the civilians.

All his quirk was bang bang explosions, nothing special. Yours on the other hand telepathy and psychokinesis one hundred times better than shitty Bakugo’s quirk. He would always prance around acting like a penguin with his ass on fire as if he had been the one saving people. All he did was carry them away, you on the other hand, stopping buildings and rubble fall off them with your mind.

It was a lot harder than Bakugo thought, one wrong thought and everything would come crashing down. But what did you care? His opinion meant nothing and as long as the people were saved that’s all that really mattered. The stars guided the darkness like a picture-perfect scene, the only torments being the blond beside you explosions in hand and the A rank villain in front of you.

“Let me handle this.” You were going to have your glory if it was the last thing you’d do, you didn’t want the glory of praise and admiration. You wanted Katsuki Bakugo on his knees admitting that you were better than him.

You activated your telepathy going into his head, “don’t you fucking dare.” He was unable to move and that’s all you wanted him to do, his silence and lack of movement confirmed he was obeying you before you turned to the villain, their quirk seemed to melt away things it touched.

You ran up to it, the sweat falling down from your body. You had made a hero costume which suited you and had easy mobility allowing you to not only use your psychokinesis to trap the rubble around the villains arms but to easily run and jump onto objects to kick the villains down. Their arms became trapped as it had already begun to melt away the concrete that you latched onto it and before you could use your quirk you felt the melted away rubble hit your body.

“Fuck.” A low whisper came as you could hear Bakugo’s thoughts, the hatred he had pent up to you but his inability to move suppressing him. Maybe it was selfish to let your own aspirations get in the way of a quick defeat, but where’s the fun in that.

You used your quirk effectively getting inside the villain as you prevented it touching anything before grabbing the discarded metal from the destruction that had been caused prior. Metal surrounded your arms as you made it move along with your walking. Both your quirks in action before you pushed everything you had onto the villain. Their movement limited as they were trapped underneath, you heard nor saw no movement and the smirk you felt on your face rise made Bakugo’s blood boil.

You stopped manipulating Bakugo as he ran towards you quirk raised, you could almost feel the explosions and burning sensation his pace quickening. “Bakugo don’t you dare, or I’ll get inside your head again and we both don’t want that.”

Telepathy took a toll on you the majority of the times, hearing thoughts and emotions wasn’t something you were too fond of doing. The villain in question had transformed back into a human having previously been a sluggish type of creature, he was knocked unconsciousness, you both saw the police force come and arrest him.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that shit again Y/n.” Bakugo raised his voice catching the attention of the police force and commission representatives.

You crossed your arms raising an eyebrow, “I’m the one who defeated the villain.” He was furious, the rage that filled inside of him was more than he could ever imagine, and it was going towards a pipsqueak like you.

“You got into my head and prevented me from doing my job you dumbass.” His knuckles had turned white at the clenched fist he was making. You had pissed him off and all you could give him was a shrug.

“Shitty woman.” He could say all he wanted about you, but you didn’t care.

You didn’t expect him to get on your knees for you, but you were doing your job, and logically you knew that if he used his quirk it would have no effect on this type of villain. You were able to suppress and defeat him and with both you and Bakugo fighting together the chances of risk increased. It wasn’t that you assumed the level of risk would be high, you knew you had worked it out whilst preventing rubble from falling from civilians. And one of the likely outcomes that had the highest percentage was Bakugo melting away.

You would never tell him you suppressed him to save him, you’d rather he be pissed with you then even consider that you two were more than rivals. He had left to go back to the agency, whilst you explained what happened to the police force knowing you’d be the one to have to do the paperwork.

You signed walking back as well, it had reached pitch darkness by the time you arrived back, stripping the costume off, the long-sleeved black leotard covering most of your body, with exposed legs which were covered by thigh highs that went right up to your mid-thigh.

Your quirk didn’t mean you necessarily needed any fancy costume but the one you wore made it easier to move especially the gloves on your hands which allowed for more materials to be controlled around your fingers. It was a benefit of some sorts; a black necklace went around your neck which allowed for a lack of nausea to occur. It was common for you to vomit up after controlling too many people back in your UA days but now it was less common, only a mild headache occurring.

Wearing normal clothes, you grabbed your bags knowing your patrol was over and you could have a weekend of relaxation. Mina and Momo having invited the girls for a catchup, it had been months since you last saw them and to have a catchup on life events was a must. You all had been busy and as you all grew older the busier everybody got, even the boys seemed to have their own lives. You didn’t mind but working alongside Bakugo in the same agency was a pain, you never expected it once graduating together but now you and Bakugo were like auld rivals.

You saw Bakugo at the front entrance he was on the phone as he paced back and forth. Probably one of his hook ups telling him he’s the father, you didn’t dare look into his thoughts, it was his private life and in honesty it made you uncomfortable.

He saw you walking out, you easily passed him he was still pissed by how his voice raised even more. Someone had made him even angrier than before clearly; you didn’t bother to ask mainly due to not caring.

A couple signs and vulgar swears came out of his mouth, you didn’t know if it was a friend, mother or even some from above but you stopped caring once you heard something from your bag.

Your phone ringing loudly, you hated phone calls even from your own parents, the idea of talking to people wherever you were was disgusting. That didn’t mean you hated people you just liked your own space and liked hanging out with people on your own accord. You answered the unknown number you were met with someone you never expected.

“This is Y/n Y/l/n.” They were almost unsure themselves, why call if you don’t know if you’re talking to the right person.

“Ugh yeah.” You were hesitant not liking the weakness of not being able to hear or know the other person’s thoughts on the other side.

You heard a sign of relief as they spoke again, “thank God, we thought you had been sent to the hospital, it’s the Hero Public Safety commission, I work under the president and we want to see you.”

“You didn’t have to make it so dramatic” You mutter barely audible, “I’ll be there.”

She says no more hanging up, you hated being called to the commission, they had no need to directly go to you when they could just go to someone who truly cared about the formalities, all you wanted to do was save people and piss Bakugo off, but no something always seemed to happen.

You turned around walking back the way you came from, passing the agency, Bakugo had probably already gone home himself. Why the fuck did you have to go to the commission why couldn’t that shitty man get called in as well?

You didn’t hate Bakugo you were just tired and hated how he could go home probably to a nice warm bed whilst you had to take detours for hells know what reasons.

Finally arriving after your unrelieved feelings had become dull to bare, you walked inside a man already waiting for you. You followed trying to get some sort of vibe from the man, you couldn’t bare to read his thoughts knowing it’d be emotional with anxieties over work so tried to look at him seeing if he had anything to him that showed hope.

He didn’t! He led you to the presidents office after a silent ride u the elevator, you didn’t mean to stare at the man, but you wanted to know if he had any clue of what was going on. And when you did finally get into his brain it was more worries about if his wife would let him in the house for being late.

A bore as you had thought, the double doors enticed you to come forward, someone was already waiting in the chair as you walked in, what you hadn’t realised was a woman had been walking back out. You both crashed into each other and her papers fell everywhere, using your quirk you gathered the papers quickly preventing them for falling on the ground and getting muddled up, the papers rested back in her arms as you helped her up.

“Sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You hummed an its okay before seeing the president. It was a shock to see her the one leading this meeting but you didnt ask just wanting to get it over and done with.

“Agh Y/n so glad you could join us, take a seat.” At the sight of your name being spoken the man quickly turned his head, and it was someone you hadn’t expected.

Bakugo sat on the chair, angry as always. You sat beside him, his glare on your body, he watched intentively as you tried to make him stop by glaring back.

“What’s the stupid psychic doing here?” You continued to glare but at the word psychic you got pissed, you weren’t a stupid fake psychic and it irritated you when he said it.

The president watched you both glaring it was a sight to say the least, you were on the verge of pushing his chair over and you could already sense explosions about to appear before she finally cleared her throat before speaking.

“We didn’t call you both here to fight we have a proposition for you two.” You both gave blank looks before Bakugo spoke.

“If you want us to do some shitty work in other fields than I’m already out.” Bakugo was ready to leave. You nodded in agreement not wanting to be involved as some promoter for a shitty energy drink to be sold to the youth. Both ready to leave on your own accords, the president finally turned away looking out through the glass windows admiring the stars and the moon which shone throughout the blues and blacks of the sky. It was a river of opportunity that you had often admired whilst on patrols.

She spoke again but this time the next words that came out of her mouth had stopped you both in your thoughts. “What do you two know about the Paranormal Liberation Front?”

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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@samusimp @alaina-rose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel

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maluminspace · 5 years ago

Text

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Calum Hood/Female Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Requested by: anon x 2

Yule Ball, best friend to lovers, Ravenclaw reader, Calum (your house choice). Murder me please*

hi love could i still request? slytherin calum and ravenclaw reader, best friends to lovers, yule ball. im a hoe for hogwarts au and i hope u can still do my request. thank you 💗 (requested by anon)*

Trigger Warnings: strong language

A/N: this came out longer than I expected. I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you as always to @h0tsos and @5-secondsofcolor for all the help pulling this together!

***

Having built up a solid sporting reputation during your six years at Hogwarts, this is proving to be as far from your comfort zone as possible.

The Triwizard Tournament as a whole, is right up your alley, of course. Especially since the type of dangerous tasks that it used to consist of had long since been discontinued. These days the tournament was basically a huge sports festival, whereby the three school champions, from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, would take part in events such as magical assault courses, spectacular broomstick flying demonstrations and other athletic exercises. Therefore you’ve been excited to watch it for longer than you care to admit. You only wish that it’d been scheduled for next year instead of this one, so that you could actually put your name forward to be the Hogwarts champion. Unfortunately, only students over the age of seventeen have that potential honour open to them and you’ve only just turned sixteen.

Despite all of that, you’re excited for the contest to begin. Before you can enjoy all of the sporting festivities, however, you have the not-so-small formal tradition of the Yule Ball to contend with.

You smooth down the front of your dress robes nervously. Staring at yourself in the full length mirror doubtfully, wondering whatever possessed you to think that this particular shade of periwinkle blue, is one you could pull off. Before your inner jock can convince you to simply attend the ball in your quidditch robes, muffled voices from the Ravenclaw common room beneath your dormitory alert you to the fact that you’re running late. Most of the other girls have already headed down to the Great Hall, leaving only you and your best friends, most of whom belong to other houses, in the whole of Ravenclaw Tower.

Finally convincing yourself that you look decent enough for the formal occasion at hand, you quickly slip a glittery hair slide into your neatly curled hair, Hoping it will distract people from the fact that you look incredibly uncomfortable.

As you head downstairs to your common room, the previously muffled voices you’d heard a moment ago slowly become more distinct.

“Does anyone know who Ashton’s date is?”

Michael’s curious tone carries through the mostly empty space just as you reach the halfway point of the spiralling staircase.

The mention of the Hogwarts Champion causes your insides to squirm uncomfortably and you have to stop for a moment to compose yourself. Your last interaction with Ashton Irwin, your long-term friend and the celebrated Gryffindor Quidditch captain, isn’t one that you really want to relive, especially not right now, moments before having to endure this stupid fucking ball.

“No idea…” Calum replies, his voice suggesting that he’s only mildly interested in the answer anyway. “He hasn’t mentioned any names to me.”

The sound of your second friend’s voice brings a subconscious smile to your face, you notice it in the dark window you’d stopped in front of but you quickly shake it off and continue down the stairs.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out if we ever get downstairs!” Luke huffs, raising his voice for the last few words to express his impatience at having to wait for you.

“There’s no need to yell, Hemmings.” You scowl, trying to act as casual as possible when you reach the last few steps.

All three of your friends turn to look at you as you enter the room, each of them with expressions of varying degrees of shock on their faces.

Michael seems to be the least affected by your somewhat unusual appearance. His look of mild surprise gives way almost instantly to a cheeky grin. “Wow, didn’t know you could scrub up this well.” He smirks, already turning towards the door, too impatient to tuck into the buffet that is waiting in the Great Hall, no doubt. It makes you smile, his love of food is rivalled only by his love for his friends but seeing as he’s eaten nothing since lunch time, you’re unsurprised that his first love is winning out.

“He’s right!” Luke grins, his pretty blue eyes drifting over your outfit as though he’s struggling to take in the sight of you in an outfit that’s so uncharacteristic for you. “I never thought I’d live to see the day where you wore anything other than your uniform, quidditch robes or those ratty old muggle music t-shirts!”

You want to argue with him and explain for the millionth time that those shirts you love to wear, are meant to have holes in them, but he’ll never understand the concept of distressed clothing, he’s a spoiled little pureblood and that’s not likely to change anytime soon. Besides, how can you focus on a mundane argument with Luke when Calum, AKA the most beautiful boy in existence is staring at you as though he might actually be seeing you as someone other than his quidditch training buddy for the first time ever.

“You look incredible.” The Slytherin gasps, his chocolate brown eyes locking onto yours as a faint smile curls the corners of his lips. He nervously runs his hand over his short hair. His fairly recent buzzcut is rapidly growing out but you’re happy to see that he’s decided to keep it blue for the time being. He’d surprised you with the daring dye job a couple of weeks ago, insisting that he’d tried to turn it green as an outward display of his loyalty to Slytherin, but something had gone wrong and it had turned a shade of blue that shockingly resembles the Ravenclaw colour instead.

You feel the blood in your cheeks rise to the surface of your skin. He’s never complimented you like that before and your heartbeat quickens at the words. It’s ridiculous, you know that. He’s probably never going to see you as anything more than a friend but there’s a tiny bit of hope left, if the sparkle in his eyes right now is anything to go by.

“You don’t look so bad yourself” you manage to giggle, trying not to let the way Calum is looking at you trick you into thinking that the crush you have on him is in any way reciprocated. He’s probably just shocked that you even own something like this to wear.

Calum smiles at your half-hearted compliment and gestures towards the door. “We better get going before Michael gets too hangry. I’d rather avoid a repeat of breakfastgate, if we can!”

You laugh at the memory of Michael hexing some unsuspecting third year Slytherins a couple of weeks ago. They’d wrongly assumed that their whole house had already finished breakfast, and tried to take the last remaining pastries. Michael, who’d been delayed getting to the Great Hall due to helping Calum with a homework emergency, had been devoid of patience when he aimed a nasty hex at his fellow Slytherins, that caused all four of their faces to break out in a terrible itchy rash. He’d earned himself a week’s detention for his rash actions, but he still maintains that those pastries were worth it.

“Yeah, if we keep him from food for much longer, he might even start breaking out the unforgivable curses!” Luke huffs dryly.

Calum and Luke continue to tease Michael about his irrational anger when it comes to food, all the way down to the main lobby of the castle. You join in a little bit, but ensure that you stand up for Michael too, after all you’ve never taken too kindly to being kept away from your food either.

It’s only when your group reaches the entrance to the Great Hall that you all fall silent. The large room has been transformed into nothing short of a winter wonderland. Large, ice sculptures shaped like animals line the two longest walls. Each frozen statue is as intricate as the last and all of them have been charmed to move their limbs or revolve on their individual platforms like giant versions of the ballerinas in those little music boxes your muggle mother used to buy for you when you were a little girl.

The usual Christmas tree that sat in the corner of the room at this time of year, had been decorated particularly extravagantly for this occasion. All of its branches are covered in glittering snow whilst real candles burn prettily in fancy spiralling patterns.

A small stage has replaced the spot where the teachers table is usually situated and it’s occupied by a band playing a song you vaguely recognise from the wizarding radio show that Luke forces you to listen to every Friday night when you hang out in his dorm whilst Michael and Calum attend their gobstones club.

“Wow, look at the floor!” Michael exclaims, gesturing at the exquisite frosty patterns etched into the wooden floorboards.

“And the roof!” Calum gasps, pointing up at the enchanted ceiling.

You take a moment to admire the wonder on your friend’s face, adoring his soft smile and the way the light reflects in his eyes, before following his gaze to the enchanted ceiling where rows of snowflake shaped fairy lights have been hung beneath the clear starry night sky.

“They’ve really gone all out, haven’t they?”

The familiar voice causes a jolt in your stomach and you curse yourself for letting down your guard so easily and so quickly. You’d hoped to avoid Ashton for much longer than this.

Calum nods in response to the older boy’s question. “It looks so beautiful! I can’t believe they did all this in just one afternoon!”

Ashton doesn’t reply, his hazel eyes move from Calum, to Luke, to Michael before settling on you. His expression is somehow thoughtful and confused all at once. You know what’s going through his mind, though and you can’t allow him to voice it.

“Yeah, it looks amazing.” You interject quickly. “Hey Cal, why don’t you go and get us all a pumpkin juice?”

“Sure.” The blue-haired boy agrees easily. “Do you want one, Ash?” He adds, turning to the Hogwarts champion with a beaming smile.

Ashton shakes his head. “My date’s just gone to get me one, thanks.” He replies, his gaze never drifting from yours.

“Oh yeah, who’d you pick in the end?” Michael questions, his tone inquisitive enough to make him appear interested in the answer. “I bet you had hundreds of offers.”

Luckily, Calum doesn’t hang around for Ashton's response, apparently too eager to get the juice you asked him for.

The raven-haired boy’s eyes never leave yours as he answers. “I chose to bring Arielle Lamer, one of the girls from Beauxbatons.” His gaze drifts over to the long row of buffet tables against one of the walls. “She was my second choice.” He looks back at you, his displaying the same hurt they had done when you’d refused his invitation to the ball a few weeks back.

“Why did you have to go to your second choice?” Michael asks, his face twisted into a confused expression. “You’re the Hogwarts champion, who in their right mind would have turned you down?”

“Never mind that!” Luke gasps, “why the fuck would she be anyone’s second choice? She’s the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Ashton doesn’t offer a verbal response to either of the confused boys, but his gaze is still locked on you, which unintentionally tells Luke and Michael the truth.

Your friends stand silently beside you, their mouths agape as they stare between you and Ashton, trying to wrap their heads around the unspoken but incredibly obvious situation.

“I thought you turned me down because you had a better offer.” Ashton frowns, “but it looks like you’ve just come here with our friends, I’m confused…”

Your guilt at having refused Ashton’s offer gnaws away at your insides as your shoulders twitch in a vacant shrug. “I never said there was anyone else, Ash I just…”

“You just didn’t want to come here with me.” Ashton interrupts, the sad realisation in his eyes and voice almost breaking your heart. “I get it.”

“I didn’t think anyone had asked you to the dance.” Calum’s voice is almost too quiet to hear over the music but his shocked tone just about reaches your ears nevertheless.

You turn to face your secret crush, your heart pounding in your chest. Calum is literally the last person on earth you would want to overhear this conversation. “I never lied to you, Cal… if you’d asked I’d have told you.”

“That’s not the point.” Calum shrugs. “You got asked to the Yule Ball by Ashton fucking Irwin and you turned him down, just to hang out with three dateless losers. Why would you do that?”

The truth almost slips past your lips, but you manage to replace it with a vaguer response before you embarrass yourself even further. “Because I just don’t see Ashton that way.”

“But he’s the fucking Hogwarts champion and probably the hottest guy in the whole school.” Calum insists, gesturing a little too wildly with his full hands and sloshing pumpkin juice over the floor.

Before Calum can make any more mess, Luke steps forward and takes the drinks from him before shuffling back to his spot next to Michael.

Despite your initial urge to tell Calum the truth about why you’d refused to come to the dance with Ashton, your anger at his persistence is starting to override it. “Well why didn’t you ask him to the dance if you love him so much?” You counter, trying not to raise your voice too much.

Calum frowns, glancing over to Ashton for a second before returning his attention to you. “Stop trying to deflect, I’m asking you a simple white question here!”

“I just wanted to come here with you, okay?” You reply snappily, gesturing at Luke and Michael faintly with one hand but never taking your eyes away from Calum’s. You can only hope that your weak attempt at trying to imply that your other friends are included in the ‘you’ that you’d just spat out, was enough.

Calum opens and closes his mouth a few times like he’s trying to speak but his vocal chords are refusing to comply.

Taking advantage of the continued silence from your friends, you continue your reply to Calum’s initial question. “Not that I really owe you an explanation, but; I love Ashton as a friend and the thought of coming here with him as more than that just didn’t feel right.” You turn to Ashton, the guilt that had been laying heavily in your chest since your conversation with him a few weeks ago, finally giving way to a sense of acceptance that you’d done the right thing. “I’m sorry, Ash. You know I never meant to hurt your feelings.”

Ashton nods in recognition of your apology. “I know. I think I understand why you had to say no to me.”

There’s a sickening theory in your mind that Ashton’s realised that you have feelings for Calum. That’s something that you’re just not ready to be proven right about. Knowing that there’s no way to shut Ashton down without inadvertently giving away your own secret, you take the easy option and turn on your heel before making a run for it, heading straight out of the great hall towards the open doors of the castle.

You barely notice the cold night air biting at every inch of the exposed skin on your arms and face as you stumble out of the entrance hall. Stragglers from the visiting schools were still filtering into the castle but most of them spared you nothing but sideways glances before disappearing inside.

Deciding to hide in a quiet corner until you can gather your thoughts properly, you head down the stone steps and drift across one of the front lawns. Luckily the grass is frosty and your high heels don’t sink into it very much.

You haven’t made it very far before a familiar voice yells your name, stopping you in your tracks. Part of you doesn’t really want to turn around but it’s not like you could outrun the Hogwarts champion in these heels anyway.

“You’ll catch your death out here.” Ashton pants as he jogs to a stop beside you. “It’s freezing!”

Now that you’ve stopped walking and your initial anger is wearing off, you really start to notice the chill in the air and wrap your arms around yourself as an ill attempt to protect the bare skin of your arms from it. “You sound like my grandma.” You huff, your voice already betraying a slight tremor.

“She sounds like a smart woman.” Ashton shrugs. “I’m sure she’d think you storming out here without a coat on was a stupid idea.”

You let out a defeated huff, sparing a glance at the warm castle, wishing you’d thought to storm back to your dormitory instead. “She would have thought what I said in there was stupid, too!” You reply, dropping your gaze to the frosty grass at your feet. “I should have been more honest with you and…”

“And Calum?” Ashton interjects, his tone solemn but not at all angry like you’d have expected if he ever found out about your feelings for your Slytherin friend. “I think he’s the one you need to talk to the most. At the very least you need to tell him how you feel.”

The very thought of confessing your feelings for Calum to anyone, especially the Slytherin captain himself, sends a stab of fear through your chest. “I can’t do that…”

“If it helps at all, I think he’s been struggling with similar feelings for you for a while.” Ashton admits, his tone hesitant to and cautious. “If I think back, there’s been plenty of signs there that I should have noticed. The way you two act around each other should have tipped me off a long time ago.”

As much as you want to believe that Ashton’s telling you the truth, you can’t really bring yourself to believe that Calum likes you back. In the back of your mind, you think that Ashton must simply just be doing what he thinks is best.

“I never should have asked you to come to the ball with me.” The raven-haired boy sighs thoughtfully, “regardless of whether I should have seen whatever it is between you and Calum, I’ve always known that you don’t really feel that way for me.”

That guilt in your chest seems to grow even more. You can’t take the sadness in Ashton’s voice anymore. “I’ve always loved you as a friend, Ash. I just…”

“You only have romantic feelings for Calum, I get that.” Ashton smiles glumly, reaching out to stroke your arm in a comforting gesture. “I hope the two of you can work something out.”

“Me too.”

Calum’s voice takes you by surprise for the second time in just a few minutes. Your face automatically snaps towards him as panic starts to flood your brain.

“I’m gonna leave you two to talk things out.” Ashton announces before you can even begin to form any words. He flashes you one last smile and claps Calum on the shoulder reassuringly before heading back the castle.

Part of you wants to follow Ashton, but your legs refuse to move. “Look Cal, I don’t really know what to say to you right now.”

Calum simply stares at you for a moment as though he’s struggling with the same predicament.

“Maybe we should just head back…” You shrug, forcing yourself to take a step past him.

You’ve barely taken a second stride before Calum’s strong hand closes gently around your upper arm. “Please don’t take off again.” He pleads. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” You ask, shivering a little at the prolonged physical contact with your crush.

Calum apparently misinterprets your slight trembling and instantly shrugs off the outermost layer of his dress robes and hands it to you. “About how I’ve been a huge wuss for the past year or so…” He suggests timidly.

You silently accept his jacket-equivalent and drape it over your shoulders. The confusion you feel must show on your face because Calum lets out a humourless laugh. “Okay.” He breathes deeply, dripping his gaze to the floor. “God, I hope you’re not gonna hate me after I tell you this…”

“Calum.” You whisper softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m starting to get worried, what is it?”

Sucking in another deep breath, Calum composes himself before summoning the courage to meet your gaze again. “At the very start of our fifth year, you waited for me on platform 9 ¾ so that we could sit together on the train, remember? Just like you always have done, since our second year.”

You nod, the memory of the bright September morning still clear in your mind, although you have no idea of its significance to Calum’s story.

“You were wearing those tight jeans and an oversized t-shirt. Your hair was scraped back into a loose bun and your face was twisted into an anxious expression because I was a bit late and you were worried that there wouldn’t be any empty compartments left for us.” Calum explains, a slightly dreamy expression on his face. “Just as you caught sight of me trying to work my way through the crowd towards you, some clumsy seventh year knocked into you. One of your suitcases toppled off your luggage trolley and burst open, a bunch of your books and stuff spilled all over the ground and you looked so fucking pissed off…” he chuckles, subconsciously reaching for hand as he continues. “I know it sounds weird but, that’s the moment that I knew I loved you. The way your cheeks went all flushed when you grumpily threw all your shit back into your suitcase and muttered about how much you wanted to push that dickhead onto the train tracks. Like, I’d had feelings for you before that, but I’d put it down to a silly crush because you're one of my closest friends and we have so much in common. In that moment, though, I just fucking knew that you had my entire heart.”

Your brain struggles to process everything that Calum has just told you as he runs his fingers down your arm in order to wrap them around your hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this sooner and I completely understand if you think I’m weird and creepy and don’t want to be my friend anymore…” Calum rambles.

“You were sitting at the Slytherin table, eating jam on toast, laughing at something Michael had just told you.” The words spill from your mouth almost of their own accord. “It was the morning of your first quidditch game as the Slytherin seeker, so you were a bit nervous. I could tell because your smile didn’t reach your eyes and you only nibbled at your toast. That’s the moment that I knew I loved you as more than a friend.”

A shocked expression colours Calum’s face in the seconds before he gasps out his response. “But that was like… four years ago.”

You can feel the blood rising to the surface of your cheeks as you nod, dropping your gaze to try and hide your embarrassment. Before you’ve recovered enough to meet his gaze again, soft fingers rise to cup your face tenderly and you automatically lean into the touch.

“How the hell did we both miss each other’s feelings like that?” Calum asks, a sigh escaping him as his lips brush your forehead. “I’m sorry I was so oblivious and that I was too scared to tell you about my own.”

Savouring the softness of Calum’s lips on your head, you wrap your arms around his waist, curling into his strong, warm body.

“Shit, sweetheart, you’re trembling.” The Slytherin whispers winding his arms around you to keep you close to him. “Let’s get inside so we can talk more without the fear of freezing to death, yeah?”

As much as you want to take Calum up on his offer before you become an icicle, the thought of breaking away from the hold he has on you is the last thing on earth you’re contemplating at the moment and you tighten your hold on him to express your utter reluctance to let him go.

Calum giggles, stroking your back soothingly before pulling away a little. “I promise I’ll cuddle you as you much as you want once we’re inside.”

The slight shiver that runs through the Slytherin, helps your rational side to win out. “Fine…” You pout, “but you’d better deliver on that promise when we get back to the castle.”

You allow Calum to lead you back across the lawn and up the stone steps to the front doors of the castle. The fact that he keeps one arm around you the whole time, makes your heart flutter in your chest, making you feel very much like a lovesick little puppy.

Just as you enter the warmth of the entrance hall, Calum takes your hand and instead of leading you into the great hall like you’re expecting him to, he guides you to the bottom of the staircase instead.

A confused expression takes over your face before he takes your hands and swallows thickly as though he’s trying to voice something that is incredibly difficult for him to say.

In an attempt to comfort him, you cradle his cheek gently, just as he’d held yours a few moments ago outside. “Is everything okay, Cal?”

Nodding, Calum reaches up to press your hand harder against his face as he meets your gaze. “I just wanted to ask you something before we go back to our friends.” He explains, a light blush rising in his cheeks. “But I’m worried it’s gonna sound stupid now that we’re already here and…”

“You can ask me anything, Cal.” You reassure him.

Before he responds he pulls his wand from his dress robes, pointing it at the ground near your feet and quietly utters a spell. A moment later, a beautiful exotic blue flower sprouts from the floor. Calum leans down to pick it up before handing it to you. “Will you go to the dance with me, like as my date?” He asks nervously

A giant smile bursts across your face as you take the flower and slide it into your hair. “One one condition.” You smirk cheekily, a sudden burst of confidence extinguishing the last of your lingering doubt about how Calum feels about you.

Your date raises a questioning eyebrow, silently urging you to elaborate.

“Well I’m a strong believer in that whole, ‘try before you buy’ thing.” You chuckle when Calum still appears to be utterly confused. “I need to know if you're a good kisser before I agree to be your date to the Yule Ball, Calum.” You clarify, hoping that you’re not going to scare him off by coming on too strong.

Calum mirrors your delighted grin before pulling you closer to him again. His beautiful brown eyes are sparkling joyfully as he allows them to drift down to your lips. He takes a moment to build up the confidence, but when he finally leans forward and kisses you, it’s more than worth the wait. His lips are soft and he kisses with a tenderness that you weren’t sure he was capable of. All-in-all, you’re incredibly impressed and you cling onto the tail end of the kiss for as long as possible before answering your date’s silent question when he meets your gaze again. “That wasn’t bad at all, Hood. If you dance half as well as that, I think tonight will be the perfect first date!”

Tag list: @cherrycolamike @byxthexway @afuckingunicornn @painkillerash @moonchildsblack @calumbbyyy @h0tsos @loveroflrh @sexgodashton @megz1985 @myfalsedevotion @aulxna @honeyedlashton @tea4sykes @ghostofmashton @fairyintheglass @cashworthy @cashtonasfuck @opheliaaurora23 @5sosnsfw @wildmichaelflower @wildfl0wer-meg @irwinkitten @cxddlyash @wildmalumflower @cashtonasff5sos @iovehemmings @lowpowermodex @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @celticclifford @5-secondsofcolor @queer-5sos @babylon-corgis

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butterfly-winx · 4 years ago

Note

I'm not sure if you've already answered this but could u talk about everyone's first experiences with magic?

No I haven’t and I can’t claim I have thought about it long enough to have rock hard hc, but it’s a fun prompt anon, so here we go:

Bloom:

Aside from being protected from the flames of the house burning around her as a baby, Bloom’s first conscious brush with magic was actually using her innate aspect. She has always been a sensitive kid and everybody assumed it was just some form of hyperempathy when she talked about other people’s feelings with high accuracy. But when she categorised people into colours depending on their auras, she meant it. Then as sensitive weird kids be, Bloom was picked on a lot in late primary and middle school and that’s when her temper started to show. Bloom got angry easily and it only riled up the other children more to get her to show a reaction. Before that it was mostly tears, but one memorable occasion Bloom’s control over temperature manifested with her burst of anger and she made everyone and herself develop a sudden high fever. She fainted from it unfortunately and spent the next two years transfixed by all sources of fire and flames eventually circling back on her obsession with fairies and all things magic. The older she got the less she paid attention to the colourful auras until they completely faded from her everyday sight and only cropped up when she herself felt her emotion in a disarray. As Bloom got older, other magic effects started to crop up with higher frequency, like her “magically” avoiding injuries or recovering from them super fast, or never getting burned on hot pots as the Dragonflame started to feel cramped unused in her body. When Stella was being threatened by the goblins and the ogre, Bloom’s fight or flight instincts automatically allowed the Dragonflame an outlet. (She then of course followed Stella down a rabbit hole of an adventure and got a place in Alfea due to her new friend’s quick thinking and forgery)

Stella:

With two proficient magic users as parents Stella was practically hounded over as adults in her life anxiously waited for her to show signs of magic. She went through magic prep courses trying her hardest to please everyone who was so important to her. She wanted to be magic so bad, always afraid of that infinitesimal chance that she didn’t get all the right genes from her parents. At age seven she was kind of a late bloomer for fully magic children to yet show any sign of magic sensitivity, and she spent another short holiday with her mother’s family up north. it was Stella’s favourite pastime to wander as close to the edge of the estate as she dared to alone in the constant twilight of the Solarian pole. Her favourite spot was a little cropping of shrubs populated by lighting bugs that always flocked to her when she came by. The loved collecting the shiny rocks as well that lit up at her touch and create her own little sun filled garden in the back where no one would bother her for hours. In retrospect Stella can tell exactly why she hasn’t come forward with all of these light related oddities, wanting to keep her island of peace to herself, but back then baby Stella really just didn’t clock that this could be related to her magic aspect. Her grandma eventually noticed and eased her into the thought that yes, she was definitely magic. After that the expectations were laid on even thicker instead of getting easier to bear as Stella got instructions at school and from both of her parents after school. Luna was very helpful with first developing Stella’s magic, so Stella actually started off with a stronger focus on her moon based powers. Radius with his control over bright skies was not very useful and Stella soon started feeling guilty over that and took up sun focused spells and fey magic explicitly to please her father. Radius would have loved her no matter what, but Stella’s insecurities were early risers and she felt the need to please others, so she was more than happy to follow his footsteps and enrol off planet in Alfea, his alma mater.

Musa:

She was equally under observation, only because she is mixed (human-elven) and it was unclear which type her magic would manifest as. Maylin herself a magic using elf would have loved to teach her daughter all she knew, but there was of course always room for her to chose a human stream, should she take after her human father more. That Musa was magic sensitive was a well known fact ever since she was a baby and was able to produce... quite a cry. Maylin was lovingly warned that her daughter was likely to be a musical type along with a gift of full sound-blocking earbuds. At age six Musa could remember the melodies of over 300 pieces of music of ranging complexity, regularly got birds to sing for her and had impeccable hearing - all in all she showed signs of having a promising future as a magic user. For her to be gifted with skills in music that brought Maylin and HaoBai together was a blessing from the Heavens. Then Maylin died and Musa and her father’s world shattered with her. Grief can have complicated effects on one’s magic, and Musa age 9, appeared with dried up magic meridians like she was a l 90 year old. It took a lot of family counselling and well timed teenage rebellion for her to pick up music and with that magic again. And it was hard work, let her tell you that. Both letting magic inot her and developing a feeling for it and doing it all while hiding from her father, afraid he’d want to ban her music and snap instruments again (it happened once, and HaoBai isn’t proud of how much the pain of loss had consimed him at that moment). At fifteen she finally had enough and decided to go head first for it, insisting her half-orphan “recompensation fund” to be used as tuition at Alfea College for fairies, despite never having received any magic prep education. Through brute force, luck and insane talent Musa aced all entrance examinations and made it despite it all.

Techna:

As childbirth on Zenith is, it was completely up in the air whether Techna would be magic or not. All the early childhood signs Techna showed for their aspect were at first more or less mis-categorised as autism (which they absolutely have, but them going through technical books detailing the technological systems of ancient civilisations daily wasn’t just that). The first one suspecting they have magic was actually Techna’s elder sister, Electra. Electra five years older than Techna was very into the idea of a baby sister and loved smushing and cuddling Techna, which Techan absolutely hated and kept giving Electra static shocks out of nowhere. Once Electra understood where static came from and identified that there was absolutely nothing charged around Techna when they did that, she became suspicions. The whole family found out when during dinner, Techna announced in the calmest voice possible that they have heard the car talk and it told Techna exactly what was wrong with it setting an end to their parents tense discussion about the car having issues. The car was sent for repairs, confirming what Techna had said and Techna was taken for a magic sensitivity test having that confirmed. (Baby Techna like: oh yeah I could always hear machines they just usually don’t have anything worthwhile to say). She wasn’t quite five at this point. Magic isn’t as widely practiced on Zenith and it took Techna’s ranerts a while to find a magic prep school for them to attend after school, which ended up being outside the borders of Transjordan actually. The daily drive was very long and exhausting both for teen Techna and the parent of the day who had to drive them, so they started talking about sending Techna to a boarding school once they were old enough. Techha was left to do their own research and they realised they had quite many options, even with just narrowing it down to fey magic that were closer to home than Magics, but they all advertised themselves as “girls’ colleges” and even pre-gender realisation that just irked Techan for an inexplicable reason. They much preferred going to a coed school, so Alfea ended up as their first choice on the application form.

Layla:

In Layla’s case, detecting her magic sensitivity was incredibly difficult, seeing as she grew up practically constantly submerged in water playing with her cousins by the shore. Androsi people naturally have a large lung capacity and are able to dive long. That Layla dried super fast afterwards and never got salt rashes was also brushed under the rug ascribed to good royal hygiene and skin care. When she started being schooled in the castle Layla was colossally bored. She received basic magic training just because, no one actually expected her to be magic since they believed she didn’t show any sensitivity for it, and kind of for shits and giggles Layla took it and ran with it. Layla discovered privately in tidal caves just what a mistake that was able to make the water be kind to her and mold and move just so she could always get out unharmed. She surprised everyone at age eleven when during a banquet the visiting princeling was annoying her just so much, she used her water magic to turn his strictly pomaded hair into a bird’s nest, overshooting and drenching the next three dignitaries around him as well. The party stopped. At first Layla though she was going to get into so much trouble, caught under the strict eyes of her father, but as it turns out, he was overjoyed. Layla was put on a fast track for learning magic and surprised people once again choosing fey magic and being able to transform at the tender age of 13. She was never sent to Alfea, but received the offer from Faragonda after the Darkar incident thinking Layla could easily make it to Enchantix (which she did, this girl is talented).

Flora:

Both of Flora’s parents are untrained magic users, so her being somewhat sensitive at least was also expected. Flora loved sitting to the side watching her father run the potion shop when she wasn’t chasing all her other parental figures and watching what they were doing with curious eyes. She loved it when her aunti Nimali gave her bumps and scrapes a little kiss so she started doing that to all sorts of things including her father’s ingredient plants. He was indulging her harmless kid fantasy, knowing full well that most of his magic plants responded to emotions like they had a soul and was more than surprised when he found these plants not only healed but sprouting wildly whenever Flora gave them a small “get well smooch”. The village talked it all over and Flora was given over to the local magic users to train with and shadow what they were doing. Her interest in potion making however prevailed and by the time she emerged from Nature’s Teaching Path having singlehandedly ran the little children’s colony it was very clear that Flora would need to receive proper training from a proper institution. She was just too good at magic for her family to fail her not being able to offer her more knowledge. Flora wanted magic with frankly for her startling greed and ambition, but she hated the idea of moving away. She could have just gone to Woodland College like most other magic users, but even there the entrance exam examiner was suggesting the school was too small for her. (And Flora kind of felt that - she overthought the whole exam because it was just so simple, she just had to touch the plant, and will the box to float. Her aspect of plant growth might not have given her complete control over the environment, but she was still a lot better than her peers.) The teacher spoke to the Council about the potential of sending Flora off planet and now that had her attention and full investment in doing everything the Council demanded to get her a visa to study in Magics.

Out of the six Layla and Techna were able to transform already before they came to Alfea, Flora and Stella had unstable first attempts (Stella during her own first year that is, not her re-run), while Bloom and Musa were the only ones who fully had to learn it from scratch during their first year.

Stella and Layla pay their tuition from royal funds, Flora is Lynphean Council sponsored and Bloom after the first year paid from Callisto’s royal fund (oops) is on a Magics scholarship for minority cultures as a surviving Dominian. Techna benefits from Transjordan’s education scheme which gives students a basic income, their parents supplement the small remainder, while Musa is 100% self sponsored from aforementioned widower’s trust fund they got after Maylin’s passing.

#winx club #asks #worldbuilding #magic lore #I went a little bit beyond and talked about how they ended up at Alfea as well #Anonymous

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enigmatist17 · 4 years ago

Text

The Mark of a Bullet (Sir Hammerlock x Wainwright Jakobs)

Y’all Y’all

I cannot wait to play their wedding DLC, I am almost there.

But have this in the meantime, because y e s I love them so m u c h my baby Hammerlock deserves happiness

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

Alistair Hammerlock enjoyed a challenge, of course, he did. Leaving his namesake, which had not been as hard as one would have assumed, freed him of some terrible shackles. The world and its infinite treasures and adventures were his for the taking, and Alistair couldn’t be happier. His renown in the hunting community exploded in such a short time, and within 10 years Hammerlock became synonymous with Alistair and his hunting. Pandora became his home after some time, Alistair happy to study and track until the war came. He was never one for shooting people and dissidents, but hunting fell to the background as he helped the small band of people try and defend their home from Handsome Jack. After the liberation of Pandora, Alistair moved on as he always did, and found himself on Eden-6. For most people, paradise did not involve swamp creatures and other horrors, but for Alistair, it was absolutely perfect. He was settled in a small town for close to a month when the head of Jakobs corporation invited him for a hunting trip. Never one to turn down a hunt, nor the rather delicious free food and exquisite ammunition, Alistair took the invite.

Where he came for Montgomery Jakobs, Alistair instead finds himself falling for Wainwright Jakobs.

He arrived two days into the hunt, startling Alistair and receiving a bullet to his shoulder. It wasn’t the greatest of meetings, the two bickering as Alistair expertly tends to the wound in record time.

“Do you go ‘round shootin’ every person ta come near you?” Wainwright snarled, watching the hunter roll his eyes as he pulls out the bullet.

“Do you find it acceptable to come around and brazenly confront a hunter amid the hunt?” Wainwright spluttered at the accusation, ears turning red as his father and associates laughed in the background.

“Here I thought big game hunters knew everythin’ about their surroundings.” It was now Hammerlock’s turn to shoot a look, pulling back to burn the now bloodied bandages.

“I was not aware I had to also lookout for a surprise newcomer, mister?”

“Wainwright Jakobs.” Alistair cocked his head slightly, unaware the heir to Jakobs corporation was even aware of the hunting expedition. “You must be the famous Sir Hammerlock then, hmpf.”

“Indeed I am.” Despite the huff, Alistair was more amused now than irritated, offering a hand to the other. “Do you often hunt with a shotgun?”

“I don’t hunt at all.” Wainwright winced as he carefully stretched out his arm, the injury only letting him about halfway. “I am far more comfortable with a good book by a fire, rather than out in the mud and grog intestines. I am here by request of my father, who is under the impression this is all for business.”

“Oh, dear.” Wainwright raises an eyebrow at the tone, but the hunter says nothing, merely escorting Wainwright to their makeshift camp. The hunt goes on for three days, Alistair hiding back growing irritation as the head of Jakobs and his business partners operated with reckless abandon. The hunter had heard rumors of avoiding any invitation by the CEO, and now he fully understood. The only saving grace was Wainwright, much to Alistair’s surprise.

Despite not enjoying the heat and swamp, Wainwright was learning tricks of the trade rather quickly. Sure, his aim was nonexistent and his brash footing was leaving a lot to be desired, but for the most part, Wainwright was a fast learner. They were up late each night, speaking about music, philosophies, books, any and every topic they could think of. The two end up staying an extra day, Montgomery bidding a hasty farewell after realizing that Hammerlock had no part with his parents’ company, and therefore was effectively not worth his time. Wainwright seemed to almost transform the moment his fathers’ vehicle was out of sight, shoulder’s loosening as he cracks open some brandy.

Hammerlock returns to his humble lodge after bidding Wainwright goodbye and finds his research was rather...lonely without the company. Alistair had never been one to seek out company for his work before, but those short days with Wainwright had been rather lovely. Taking a week-long expedition, that most certainly wasn’t extended because he got slightly lost, Hammerlock is glad to see his abode and pauses when he notices the door is ajar. Readying his pistol, Alistair slowly opens the door and points his gun at the figure standing in the living room.

“Are we going to meet with your gun always between us?” Wainwright sounds amused, but Hammerlock can tell he is nervous after hearing his pistol click.

“Perhaps that would end if you approached me in my sight.” The pistol is holstered, and Wainwright turns with a slightly bashful look.

“Fair point, fair point.” There is a freshly cooked meal on the table, and Alistair can’t help but be grateful at such a sight. “I heard you would be returnin’ soon, and as such thought ta offer a good meal.”

“How very kind of you.” Alistair doesn’t mind the small amount of grime he sullies the couch with, knowing there will always be later to clean. They both slip into a conversation as if they had never parted ways, the late hour slowly turning to early morning as they continued. It should be silly, men in their late forties and early fifties respectively laughing and regaling each other with stories like teenagers. A night turns into a week, Wainwright taking Alistair around for an in-depth tour of Eden-6. It’s late one night when gazing up at the myriad of stars on the roof of Hammerlock’s cabin, that Jakobs leans over and captures the hunter’s lips in a kiss. For just a moment, Alistair freezes at the contact but is soon moving his flesh and bone hand to caress the side of Wainwright’s jaw. They eventually part and Alistair suddenly thinks that coming to Eden-6 had been his wisest choice throughout his career.

It only hits him a few days later, bidding Wainwright a goodbye after escorting him home, what that feeling of utter peace meant. When Alistair arrives at his own abode, his shirt is quickly yet efficiently removed. Just above his left nipple, a patch of skin that had always been barren was finally alight with a symbol. The design, still in the process of solidifying with dark hues of reds, greens, and blacks, appeared to be forming the most ornate shotgun Alistair had ever seen, crossed over his own infamous sniper rifle.

Coincidentally, it looked suspiciously like the personal gun of one Wainwright Jakobs.

Some grogs were momentarily stirred from their slumber by a loud bout of elated laughter.

The symbol solidifies the day before Wainwright offers Hammerlock a permanent place in his own estate. The hunter moves in with no hesitation, the housekeeping staff clustering around the study door that evening. They can see Hammerlock shedding his shirt, saying something and pointing to himself before Wainwright lets out a loud bout of laughter. The symbol on Alistair had now grown to fill the entire upper left side of his chest, Wainwright reaching out and touching it with an expression neither of the staff had ever seen before.

It was pure adoration.

Hammerlock says something to other man, who gives a shrug before shedding his own coat and shirt. It was clear he was slightly shy, a bit soft around the middle from his simple gunsmith work, whereas Hammerlock was built and toned from his occupation. The hunter seems not to mind at all, eyes drawn to Wainwright’s back when he turns around. Alistair’s prized journal, one that only Wainwright had been blessed to see, was seemingly tattooed onto his back. Astonishingly the pictures displayed moved, flickering both from what he had drawn over the years, to images of Eden-6. It was rare for one’s soulmate mark to be so vivid, and even rarer to change its shape at will, or in this case, it’s pages and images. The eldest staffer finally shoos everyone away when Alistair kneels down, spindly fingers tracing over Wainwright’s mark as if he was touching gold.

“This is just astonishing.” Hammerlock can’t help but breathe, the roll of his breath across Wainwright’s back making the shorter man shiver.

“So you’ve said near hundred times I reckon.” Despite feeling a bit inadequate at the moment, the Edenian can’t help but feel his heart flutter. Catching sight of his own mark in the mirror just a day ago had sent a feeling of...peace when he realized just what it was. He had nearly scared some of the staff running to and fro, ordering various rooms to be prepared as if for many guests. Thoughts of personal space and potential unwant had faded the moment Hammerlock had arrived. The hunter and the gunsmith had shared a look that felt like it had lasted years, the world just settling in a way that had never been before.

It felt like they had finally found steady ground, and had taken to privacy almost immediately.

Alistair and Wainwright end up sitting on his bed, the gunsmith on his stomach as Alistair touches and kisses what seemed every inch of his mark.

“A gentleman might get a right jealous of attention like that.” He chuckles, and Alistair sits up with his own amused look.

“Well, I suppose I shall have to rectify this posthaste, shall I not?” Wainwright all but blinks, and Alistair has settled beside him as if they had done this a thousand times.

“I suppose you should.” Wainwright sits up slightly when he notices Hammerlock shift, clearly becoming uncomfortable in his prosthetics. “Do you need some assistance ?”

“I can manage a few hours longer.” Alistair shrugs, finding the slight frown that crosses his partners’ face almost adoring. Mhm, calling him partner so soon? Hammerlock knew that soulmate bonds could be potent, but never before had he ever thought of such a thing happening to himself. He would have laughed, shaking from his thoughts when he feels his prosthetic arm be worked free with its’ quiet pop. “Winny, a heads up if you don’t mind!”

“Winny?” Alistair can’t help the faint blush that flares up, the nickname having slipped without a thought.

“I...you see.” Any excuses that he could have come up with fade when the other starts shaking, clearly holding back some laughter.

“Ain’t never had a nickname before...I like it.” This man and his endless enthusiasm for all things, were most definitely going to be the end of Alistair, absolutely.

“Yes, Wainwright is a fair mouthful, and I find that Winny, well it suits you, my dear.” Wainwright is now the one blushing, Alistair removing his leg prosthesis with practiced ease, setting both it and the arm on the bedside table. Hammerlock barely sits back before he is swept up into Wainwright’s arms. They shuffle a little bit, and soon Hammerlock has his head tucked into the crook of Wainwright’s neck, rather appreciating how soft the other was against his scrawny back. He feels soft and slightly calloused hands brushing along the designs of his mark, hearing a soft chuckle as Wainwright traces his own gun. The hunter doesn’t even feel himself falling asleep, having never felt so unguarded and safe to do so. It’s the first time in years he sleeps without nightmares or pain and knew that hopefully, this would be the beginning of something wonderful.

#borderlands 3 spoilers #borderlands 3 #wainwright jakobs #sir hammerlock #alistair hammerlock #jakobslock #guys #they did so fucking well with them I can't #I love them so much #and I'm so happy Hammerlock gets someone that makes him happy #p l e a s e #I need more of them #pls #Borderlands 4 #can't wait for that DLC

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vaingloriosa · 5 years ago

Note

If it's not too much of a bother can I ask what s/e//lfships-in-sp/a//nish did? I remember seeing her art around when I was into DBH for a bit. (Emphasis on was)

first off, congrats on getting off that dbh juice! very proud of you for leaving that part of your life behind. love that for u!!

i’ve actually been meaning to make a post like this. in order to fully answer your question, there has to be a little bit of vulnerability on my part. it’s something that has taken me awhile to process and heal (i’ve only talked to a handful of people about this) from but i am at a point where i think i am ready to talk about it. please note that i am only answering this for y’all to know the truth; this is not me trying to stir the pot and cause any drama. if you still follow her, i am not the all-knowing moral authority to tell you to stop following her but what i will say is to hear me out and reconsider who you give your support to.

there might be some things that i am missing because i don’t like remembering any of this but i will try my best. i will not be using any names in order to protect these people’s identities, even if some of these people did hurt me. again, i am not here to callout anybody, i am not here to say “officer! this person right here!” because this is not what this is all about. i am only here to give you my experience with SSIS (her username for short). also, i do not have screenshots, i deleted the server, and there is no evidence to support me. i didn’t want to keep such baggage around and wanted to just move on...and i hope you can trust me with what i am about to say.

SSIS and i were like two peas in a pod. when we found one another in the dbh fandom, i looked up to her. i thought she was one of the greatest artists in dbh and i felt so intimated by her. soon, i think she was the one contacted me and from there, it was like an instant click. we got to talking and it felt like we were friends for a long time. slowly, in private messages, SSIS and i were often vulnerable with one another. i talked about the things i have to face as a latina woman, and she talked about her own struggles. i thought i was being open and honest with another woman of color but it wasn’t until way later that i found out that she is a white woman. that is something to keep in mind as we go further down the line.

there were some things that she said about other people that felt like she was trying to persuade me from keeping my distance from. i will not name names of these blogs but they were also fairly popular in the dbh fandom and it felt strange the way she got so angry and heated over people i called my friends. sadly, i was influenced by her comments because i started to internalize her words and became weary of these people since she said that they, too, were secretly talking about her and had their own clique. this is something that has taken a lot to unlearn because words can hold a lot of weight. this really should’ve been my first warning, a red flag, but i kept being friends with SSIS because, well, i trusted her and i considered her a good friend of mine. i wanted to defend her honor, i wanted to stick up for her as she did for me. i thought she was on my side as i was hers.

then i created a server for my mutuals and followers.

things were going great, everyone was getting along, we were all making inside jokes, and just supporting one another. slowly, there were events that started to unfold that truly revealed the true nature of who SSIS is as a person. it started out with when there started to be an inner circle within my server. it was SSIS, three other dbh content creators, and another reader of mine. now, i loved that they slowly started to become really good friends with another. however, it slowly started to feel like they were becoming like an exclusive club where SSIS became the head person of the group. i had my suspicions confirmed when i saw that they created their own personal server which, again, it’s okay to make your own server when you have your own friends. but the thing is...they felt withdrawn from the rest of the group and me. it’s like they tried to distance themselves away from me and me only. now there’s another part that i really...don’t like talking about. this part...it’s something that i never fully...grasped. whenever i think about it, it makes me sick to my stomach. the one person that was a reader of mine is a minor and these four adults friended this minor. again, as long as you are respectful with one another, it’s okay to have a friendship. however, this friendship became a bit inappropriate when they were sharing NSFW content with the minor in the server. they even encouraged such behavior from them....and i remember having a talk with my mods of the server saying how that was super fucking odd and kind of disgusting. i didn’t even wanna know what was going in in that private server. this should’ve been the second red flag, but i gave the benefit of the doubt.

however, this wasn’t the penultimate thing.

you know by now that i am a vocal person when it comes to activism. i do not shy away from hot topics because i want people to be informed and be comfortable in the uncomfortable. some of my mutuals often asked me what i meant when i said “all white people” or when i said that white people are responsible for this and that and i was okay with answering these questions because, hey, you’re not gonna learn if you don’t ask questions. at first, i was willing to teach my white friends about some of the things that contribute to the oppression of people of color and what their white privilege meant but what i should’ve learned sooner rather than later was that i can’t always assume the role of teacher.

and there are some things that must come from a white person in order for them to recognize their privilege, realize their behavior, and come up with ways to do better, and put action towards that.

sometimes that’s better said than done. some of the white friends that i had in that server were kinda agitated by all my “accusations” of all white people but i kept reminding them that when i say that, i only mean this type or that type...but if the shoe fit? i could tell that SSIS was just not understanding any of that...but she never really said that. but here i thought she was a woman of color because she said that her specific group of spaniards faced oppression. i do want to say that it is partially my part for not putting two and two together that spaniards are europeans and are not considered people of color, no matter the region. however, the way she spoke of her struggles made me want to believe that she was. it’s a stupid reason, i will say that. even when typing this, i still can’t believe i thought she was a woman of color...and i want to try to make excuses but really, i should’ve been more informed. but the more i think about it, SSIS should’ve been the one to correct me, stop me, and tell me that she isn’t a woman of color, that she is european. you don’t lie about one’s identity like that just because you think being called a woman of color gets you some sort of clout. people think that being “hispanic” also covers spainards and i fell into that trap. SSIS shouldn’t have kept up the lie like that. that should’ve been the third red flag but i wanted to attribute that to them learning and growing.

the catalyst seemed to be when notre dame burned. an empty church building, mind you. the way that her and the rest of her group were viciously attacking my friends of the server for making jokes about it, forcing one to apologize for doing nothing wrong, and quite literally foaming at the mouth for some silly symbol of colonization by europeans...i was kind of taken aback by it. i remember being in the car with my sister and her boyfriend and reading the messages out loud and they started to laugh because c’mon! it was ridiculous that they were defending this building! this should’ve been my fourth red flag, but once again, i believe people can change.

it became quiet after that, real quiet. i know some of my mods decided to take a break from the server after such a heated argument that was initiated by SSIS. slowly but surely, the server started to pick up again and for that i was grateful that this didn’t completely severe any trust. though i did notice the absence of SSIS and her little friend group. it became more blatantly obvious that these people have separated themselves from us. the private conversation that i still held with SSIS slowed down to more sporadic messages. however, i still supported her and her art. i donated money to her, i even offered to help her buy a website for her art and merch. the support from those friends dwindled down but i continued to support their content no matter what. i wanted to let them know that even though we may have some differences, we can overcome these challenges and support one another.

gosh, sorry, i started...getting teary eyed from remembering this because it comes to show that internet friends...you don’t always truly know them.

i’m not 100% sure when this started to occur, whether it was before the big fight or afterwards but i slowly started to realize that these people were not my friends. as y’all are aware, i started to have a steady disinterest in dbh and often was vocal about that. given that, everyone is allowed to criticize media so my opinions are my own. i was trying to fight for a better community for the dbh fandom, i was trying to fight for my voice and my fellow stans of color to have their voices and stories heard. i believe that SSIS was on my side because she, too, agreed with me for wanting a better fandom where fans of color are taken seriously and are recognized. i thought she was willing to fight for me because she, too, was disappointed that nothing ever come about my rants and awareness. however, that wasn’t the same tune she and her friends were singing. when i brought up racism in fandom and transformative fanworks, i was met by such a response by one white author (who has her own story with me, but i am not sure if i should talk about but she apparently tried to get in contact with me to apologize but as of today, i still haven’t heard from her) who said that it was up to me to create the content that i want to see...and that is a very racist thing to say. the responsibility shouldn’t fall on me or on the shoulders of my fellow people of color. i could go off on a tangent but...lemme bring this back to what i wanted to say.

when that decline started to happen, i was becoming more and more aware that two people from this inner circle, SSIS and that other white author, were making vague tweets about me. they, too, also started to make vague posts about me as well. they started talking so...horribly about me and the things i felt so passionately about...that these things hurt like hell. fuck, crying again...um, i don’t remember specific wordings but i do remember that they were specifically about me...and they were posting that while i was still following them. that’s what hurt the most...because they knew i was going to read these tweets and these posts...so i talked it over with my mods, cried a bit about it, and they held my hand while i unfollowed them quietly from twitter, tumblr, and instagram. even despite it all, i was so....it was hard to unfollow them. i don’t know why...they hurt me so why did i feel like i was betraying them? i unfollowed everyone from that friend group except for the reader of mine because i gave him the benefit of the doubt, i wanted to believe that he was merely influenced by them to do things he was against, and i hoped that he, too, would recognize what they were doing was wrong.

then it happened. all hell broke lose.

it started with the white author who posted a public message on the general server channel that i would’ve rather have had her sent that personally to me than just having this out in the open for everyone to see. since this isn’t about her, i will save my commentary and just say that it was kinda hurtful to read.

then, i guess that white author gave the confidence of SSIS who dropped a very long and personal message on the server that was one of the most vile, vicious, and racist things i have ever read in my entire life. she began the message with “now that you unfollowed me on twitter, i can really tell you what’s on my mind” and typed up one of the most ugliest and most wicked messages...i wish i knew what it all said but i remember reading it....and crying. it broke my heart knowing that this woman, someone i considered my friend, someone i trusted, someone that i shared a lot of vulnerable shit with, someone that i thought i looked up to...someone i cared for....harbored such hatred towards me. slowly i began to see that she kept up a front with me, kept those feelings at bay, and waited until i slipped or something so that she had an excuse to air out what she thought was “dirty laundry”. to this day, it’s one of the most traumatic things that has ever happened to me.

after that happened, i deleted the server as it served as a reminder of what transpired. i apologized to everyone on my server though there wasn’t anything on my part to apologize for but i felt like i had to. all of last year was one of the most difficult years i have ever been through because it made me second guess myself, my abilities, and i became incredibly weary of white women (even more so than before). i lost any motivation to write, i lost any creative spark i had before that time, and just...completely became a shell of myself. it sounds so dramatic and silly of me...but it felt like i was in some sort of weird sad episode where i couldn’t control my impulses. i deleted a lot of my work, i deleted a lot of my content from my blog, even content i was proud of. even outside of the internet, i was...withdrawn. i tried to throw myself into working but i didn’t even have that drive to do that. i wanted to get over it so badly because i didn’t want to give up like that. i became withdrawn from others, i closed myself from speaking up about what happened because it hurt to open up a huge wound like that. plus, i couldn’t really talk about this with my family or my other friends because it’s like “hey, this one internet friend that i had turned out to be a racist snake” like it sounds wild to be upset about that. it felt silly to me because my gosh, this is the internet! nothing is real! everything is so...trivial. but what happened with SSIS last year is something that i haven’t 100% healed from but i have come a long way since april of 2019 and i am proud of myself despite how it doesn’t feel like i have healed much. also i don’t remember most of 2019 if we are being honest. however, just a few days ago i got a notification from a tweet she had tagged me in but instead of panicking, i kinda laughed? about it? rolled my eyes? that’s growth, babeyy!

if you are a follower of hers, you do what you want with this information. like i said before, i am not going to tell you what to do. you are the one to ultimately make that decision. whether you decide to send screenshots to her of this ask, whether you choose to defend her honor in my inbox, call me a liar, block her, idc but whatever you do, please don’t send her hate anons or hateful asks...i do not endorse that behavior whatsoever. thank y’all for hearing me out

#ask #this took me an hour to write lmaoo #and only two times i cried? lemme hit this big blunt for this big w #Anonymous

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hddnone · 5 years ago

Text

Star-Blessed, Ch 1/3

002 - Gold - Winteriron - Mature

For @tonystarkbingo flash bingo

Massive thank you to @arboreal-elm-ash-oak who cheered and beta'd and brainstormed this fic with me. I can't thank them enough for all their work into helping mold this fic into something that I liked. Also thank you to @imposter-human who let me riff of their fantastic idea of Tony giving the team gold things! (in this fic!)

Story is also here on AO3

***

The stars whispered to him as he closed his eyes, as he fell back through the portal.

remember, remember, remember

he is coming

Tony thought it was a dream or some sort of dying hallucination. What he thought, when he thought of it at all, was more along the lines of how the brain did weird things when you were dying. Everyone else who had near death experiences talked about bright lights and buried memories. Tony had the stars whispering to him and telling tales that couldn’t possibly be true, except -

Except things that Tony touched turned to gold, now.

He’d been working on DUM-E, tightening a support strut and chastising the bot for getting too wild when the bolt he’d rubbed a thumb over to make sure it was properly fitted against the casing turned a shiny, metallic gold.

Tony had yelped, DUM-E had started racing around in a panic, and it had taken the rest of the afternoon until everyone had calmed down enough so that JARVIS could confirm that yes, somehow, DUM-E’s bolt had been transformed.

It wasn’t entirely gold, which was for the best. Soft gold wasn’t going to hold the shape of a screw, at least not one that held up in function, and DUM-E refused to let Tony take it out.

DUM-E liked it and showed it off to U and Butterfingers. The other bots clamored for their own golden screws, but Tony didn’t know how to repeat it and didn’t know if he wanted to. He stared at his hands, his mind wishing there was a scientific explanation, but there was no chemical on this Earth that could’ve been on his hands that transformed DUM-E’s steel screw into a gold-steel alloy.

To eliminate the impossible leaves only the improbable, and all Tony could think about was what the stars told him.

remember, remember, he is coming, remember

Then it kept happening, and it got less shocking and miraculous each time. U and Butterfingers finally got their gold statement pieces when Tony was gently shoving them aside so that he could get a closer look at their work. U’s entire support strut was golden, now, while Butterfingers had golden brackets. DUM-E came clamoring back for more, once U had more color, and now all of DUM-E’s screws and bolts were golden. All Tony had to do was touch them.

He had been working on the War Machine armor, and the inside of the plates had turned a warm gold. The strength of the metal hadn’t changed - it was still titanium alloy - but now the inside of the plates were painted.

Rhodey rolled his eyes at the change, assuming it was a prank to be more like the Iron Man armor. Tony looked down at his hands, after the armor was gone, and breathed a sigh of relief.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or how to turn it off. He might need to avoid touching anyone, just in case. The tales of King Midas, and all that. That nothing he touched was structurally changing was a good sign, but he still didn’t want to risk it.

“What is this?” Pepper asked, her voice weary.

She threw a box on Tony’s desk, and he blinked down at it.

“A gift,” Tony said slowly, having difficulty deciphering the look on Pepper’s face. There was a pinch to the corners of her mouth that didn’t look promising. “You usually accept those with gratitude and then if you don’t like it you throw it away when the gifter isn’t looking. You don’t usually, uh, return those to the giver.”

Pepper crossed her arms and leveled Tony with a flat look.

Yeah, definitely not promising.

“While I am pleased you are aware of the etiquette of receiving gifts, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t say anything about those gold shoes, or gold handbag, or even the gold car -”

“That was meant for Happy, total misunderstanding,” Tony hurried to correct.

“But this! Tony, this is a ring!”

“Yes…?”

“We’re not even dating, why would you even -”

Tony yelped in alarm. “It’s not an engagement ring!”

Not that he hadn’t thought about it, but that had been a long time ago. They were better as friends, and he was glad Pepper had seen the wisdom in keeping them that way.

Pepper sighed. “I’m glad, I am, I’m so glad we’re on the same page with that but Tony you don’t just go giving out gold rings to people. The last thing we need is for the media to take this and run with it. It would be 2010 all over again where all I am is some harlot standing in as CEO and -”

“Pep, Pep, it’s fine. Bad idea, okay,” Tony said, hands raised. “No rings, message received. No media frenzy, no paparazzi problems. We’re all fine,” he assured.

Pepper smoothed her hair back. “Will you at least tell me what it all means? The gifts, specifically with gold?”

Tony shrugged. “What, I can’t treat my friends? I have all this money, got to keep the economy alive, you know.”

Pepper frowned. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Tony doesn’t know what to say. How does he explain what the stars whispered to him as he was dying in another part of space? How does he explain that he doesn’t know what he’s doing or why he’s doing it, but that there’s just the urge itching underneath his skin that his people - the bots, Rhodey, Pepper, Happy - have something of his?

He doesn’t understand himself. How can he tell Pepper?

So Tony laughed the question off. “A thousand things, Pep, but you know I like to surprise you.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, but after a few more minutes of arguing she lets it go. She at least leaves him with better ideas, in both design and function, if he insists on giving her jewelry. No more rings, though.

Tony gets to work.

he is coming

remember, remember, remember

#tony stark #winteriron #eventually anyway #tsbflash #megan writes things

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ladylynse · 5 years ago

Text

Hey, @queenofhearts7378, I finally got another part of your prize written.... *grins* Here’s Part V of Whirlwind! [FF | AO3] Here’s the timeline post if anyone wants a refresher, or you can check out Part IV again.

6:16 PM

Jake didn’t expect his cell phone to start ringing, but he wasn’t entirely surprised to answer it and find Danny on the other end of the line. The line crackled with wind, meaning Danny was moving and doing a poor job of sheltering his phone, and if he was calling without stopping— “What’s up?” Jake asked, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer. Hadn’t getting reamed out by his mom been enough? If something had gone wrong with Danny’s fight with cat boy—

“Did you give your Fenton Phone away to some guy calling himself the Ninja?”

Jake groaned. He wasn’t even halfway to the shop—on foot, because he wasn’t wholly eager to get there and explain the whole disaster to Gramps and Fu when it would just mean he’d be yelled at in Chinese and subtly reminded that this was important—and this was not the news he wanted to hear. “Aw, man, he didn’t call to report the fire, did he?” If Danny knew about the Ninja, then he probably knew about everything else, too, and Jake was not in the mood to deal with this right now. At least nothing had gone drastically wrong with cat boy or Danny would have led with that. Not that one bright spot stood for much in this mess. These Miraculous things sounded important, and the Dragon Council was not going to be impressed if they found out he couldn’t stop people from misusing magical artefacts.

Especially when he’d gotten a warning from the Oracle twins.

“What fire?”

“Okay, look, there was this big deal fashion show in town. My mom was catering it. But it’s spitting distance from where we caught cat boy, and the Ninja had already fought someone I’m pretty sure was powered up by our friend with the Butterfly Brooch. I went to warn my mom and things went south.”

“You…. Are you telling me you set the building on fire?”

“Not intentionally! And the sprinklers put it out anyway. My point is, I kinda ruined the show and Mom sent me back to the shop to get Fu and Gramps for backup. She figures we’re gonna need more help—”

“From what the Ninja was saying, she’s not wrong. He won’t give details, but he figures something bad’s about to go down.” The wind noise died away; wherever Danny was, he’d finally stopped moving. “Look, Jake, about Chat Noir. Cat boy. I don’t think we have this right. I don’t think he’s the bad guy here. He was scared of me.”

“You’re a ghost. He probably knew he couldn’t touch you.”

A snort. “That wasn’t it. He could’ve distracted me by endangering a whole bunch of people’s lives, but he never tried it.”

“Maybe because he couldn’t touch you and wanted to stay on your good side? If his partner’s got this Brooch of Metamorphosis—”

“The only time he mentioned his partner was when he said he could beat me without them.”

“Right, because apparently his partner’s working the show my mom was catering. Until I tried to warn her and wrecked it.”

“Just…double check what your book says about the Cat Ring and the Butterfly Brooch. This Ninja guy said he thought things were gonna turn fast, and…. I dunno, Jake. I want to make sure we’re on the right side of this. Something doesn’t feel right.”

They couldn’t really afford to ignore the Oracle twins’ warnings on the basis of feelings, but Jake trusted Danny. “Chill. I’ll take a second look. Or make Fu do it.” Danny’s silence made it clear he wasn’t convinced, so Jake asked Danny for identifying landmarks and told him which way to fly to get to the show. If the Ninja had read the situation right, Jake didn’t really want him to be the only one on the scene.

Danny hadn’t said what had happened with his fight with cat boy—Chat Noir—but Jake could read between the lines. Chat Noir might not have destroyed anything, but he’d managed to give Danny the slip. Jake knew Danny’s skills; that would be almost impossible to do alone. But if he’d managed to make contact with his partner….

Jake ducked into the nearest alley and transformed, heading straight for the shop. Whether or not Danny was right, whether or not the Ninja was right, they needed to figure this out. He was the American Dragon. He couldn’t keep dragging his feet like this. Angry as his mom had been, she might even ask Haley to help him on this. (Unfortunately, Jake knew that if Haley had already been helping him, the mess at the show wouldn’t have happened. She wouldn’t have had any trouble sneaking in to go warn their mom about the danger. She was too cute for people to suspect her. It was really annoying.)

He was barely through the back door of the shop when his cell phone was ringing again. “Did you get lost?” he asked, knowing it was going to be Danny.

“Please tell me you have a cousin in town or something.”

“Uh….”

“Crud. I should’ve known. Just grab Fu and Gramps and get down here as fast as you can. Don’t, uh, worry about being inconspicuous. You can’t make things worse.”

Danny hung up before Jake could ask for details.

Fu brushed the chip crumbs from his chest and pushed away the book he’d been reading. “You and Phantom walk into some planned catastrophe?”

Jake wasn’t even sure where to start. “Yo, we need to get down to the gala Mom’s catering. Like, now. Something happened. I’ll fill in you and G on the rest of the stuff on the way.”

Fu stared at him. “Kid—”

“I’m gonna call Haley to be on standby.” He hated that he was doing this, but he had some idea of what Danny had been through, and his idea of bad…. “Grab that old book on the Miraculous and bring it.”

“Jake? What is going on?”

He hadn’t even noticed Gramps appear in the back of the store. “Something…bad,” he said. “I don’t—”

His cell phone rang again.

Jake answered it without even looking. “Yo, can you spill a few—?”

“Turn on the news, Jakey.”

He blinked. “Trixie?” He’d been expecting Danny again.

“News. Now. Like, any local channel.” And then she hung up.

And then he got a text from Spud. U want us on Rotwood duty?

Jake ran for the nearest functioning TV.

It didn’t take him long to find out what was up. It was on every channel. After all, it was hard to miss. There was a dragon circling above what remained of the crowd from the fashion show gala.

The camera cut to show the Ninja yelling up at the dragon, who paid him no mind.

“Aw, maaan.”

XXXXXXXXX

6:35 PM

Adrien was standing on the platform of the metro, waiting to transfer, when he heard about the dragon.

It started as a sudden exclamation by a young woman telling her friends. At first, he’d thought he’d misunderstood, but then he heard pieces of the story from other hushed—and not so hushed—conversations in the crowd. The ruined fashion show. The fire trucks and other emergency vehicles. The dragon that was surely the cause of it all.

Hawk Moth must have recalled Phantom’s akuma. He must have found someone else to transform, another soul to twist. Except….

Except Adrien had already seen a dragon, or thought he had, and hearing of one now was proof enough. He’d seen one when he’d been captured by Phantom. Which meant neither Phantom nor the dragon were the ones who had been originally akumatized; it was someone else, someone who had the ability to turn others into fairy tale creatures.

If Hawk Moth had wanted to cause chaos, this was surely the way to do it. Adrien had been able to defeat the Critic, would have managed it even without the Ninja’s help, but he couldn’t fight multiple battles on multiple fronts without Ladybug. He might be able to bring her back one akuma, if there were some way to capture and trap it, but not one for every magical creature Hawk Moth intended for him to face. He’d have to find the person who was transforming everyone, and he wouldn’t have a chance to do that until they showed their hand.

Unless they already had.

Ninjas didn’t really count as fairy tale creatures, but they were steeped in legend. The Ninja hadn’t seemed like a bad person, but he might not even realize what he’d gotten into. Hawk Moth gave some of his victims more autonomy than others, and if the Ninja didn’t even realize he was creating monsters to fight—

No. The Ninja had made no move to get his Miraculous, and even if Hawk Moth had assumed Ladybug and Chat Noir had been left behind in Paris, he’d be quick to make that correction. Especially when Ladybug wasn’t here. Hawk Moth might not care about the damage he left behind, but Adrien certainly did, and he suspected Hawk Moth knew that.

If Hawk Moth didn’t want him, hadn’t counted on him or Ladybug being here, then he wanted something else. Other Miraculous, perhaps. There must be more. He’d think that’s what the Ninja had if his costume had made some sort of reference to an animal. Plagg thought other magic was at play, but if it was, how had Hawk Moth found out about it? He knew about the Miraculous, certainly knew more about the Miraculous than Adrien did, so maybe that’s all it was. Maybe he didn’t know about the other magic here, whatever form that magic took. And if there was another Miraculous in New York City—

He couldn’t be sure. Not yet. He’d find out more when he fought to protect the city from the dragon. If he was lucky, the dragon would be as talkative as Phantom had been. And if he was really lucky, the Ninja would turn up again to help him.

Adrien checked the time. His train wasn’t due for at least another minute, and there was an attack happening now. He could travel much faster as Chat Noir than as Adrien. He didn’t know this city from above, but he knew where he was, and he knew where he was going. That would have to be enough.

Adrien slipped away in search of a place to transform and hoped he’d get there before too much damage was done.

XXXXXXX

6:41 PM

There was so much fire.

Randy heaved another Ninja Hydro Hand at the flames licking the pavement and was rewarded with a curtain of steam. (How could stone burn, anyway? That was wonk. What kind of magic was this?) He knew he wasn’t out of Ninja Cold Balls yet, but his supply had to be running low.

The smart people in the crowd had run screaming. Too many of them had lagged behind, thinking this was some kind of show. Because fire-breathing dragons were always part of some kind of show. And anyone who could afford to buy something at a fashion show like this had a lot of money, so the people putting on this show had a lot of money, and cool pyrotechnics were almost expected these days.

…Or did people just attend these things and not actually buy something? He really had no idea.

The dragon overhead swooped low, dodged with unfair ease the Ninja Electro-Ball he threw at her (it?), and sent a blaze of fire between him and the crowd, pushing them back.

Randy groaned.

He hadn’t looked closely recently, being too busy dealing with the dragon, but he was pretty sure some of the flashing lights he could still see belonged to firetrucks. He was also pretty sure the firefighters hadn’t just abandoned their jobs to gawk at the dragon, gawk-worthy as she clearly was.

But he was the Ninja.

Fighting a dragon.

In a place where crazy stunts were more the norm than actual magic.

He had no idea what it would take to convince people that this wasn’t a setup and that they were actually in danger. Then again, the dragon hadn’t targeted them specifically. Driven them back, yes, but she hadn’t pulled any shoob move that would’ve resulted in some extra-crispy attendees. She hadn’t gone after any of the vehicles, trying to make something explode or cause more damage. She hadn’t even really done much to the building. She’d mostly just cleared the area in front and, well, focused on him. Which, despite totally being his plan when he’d run after her, was…odd, now that he thought about it.

He went through the motions, calling up another Ninja Hydro Hand, and glanced up.

She was flying lazy circles overhead, expertly avoiding buildings but still managing to catch updrafts when she needed them. She flew like she was an expert at it, like she’d studied it all her life or had a natural skill for aerodynamics. Maybe she studied birds in her free time or something.

She was watching him, her eyes never seeming to flick away from his figure, as if she had some kind of sixth sense and didn’t even need to watch where she was going.

He doused the flames.

She dove.

He tossed a Ninja Bee Ball at her before remembering that their stingers probably wouldn’t pierce dragon hide, and she set the stone on fire again.

He was hot enough that he was seriously debating the merits of using a Ninja Cold Ball on himself, but at least the mask—or maybe its magic—helped him to withstand all the smoke.

“What do you want?” he yelled at her. She’d flown up out of range of anything he could throw at her—again—and had resumed watching him. Maybe she was just trying to wear him out. Maybe he shouldn’t keep putting out the fire. Except then there would be fire, and that would be bad.

At least, when he was fighting robots or monsters, he knew what they wanted. How was he supposed to stop a fire-breathing dragon who didn’t seem to have any kind of goal beyond playing with him until he dropped to the ground out of sheer exhaustion? She hadn’t said anything. He didn’t know if she could even speak or if she’d just spout unintelligible monster gibberish. He’d only heard her roar, which in retrospect had served well when it came to scaring half the crowd away.

He wished it had scared the whole crowd away.

Seriously, people in the place needed to learn when to run.

He wished the Am Drag would come back. This dragon was bigger than the Am Drag, but he could at least fly and catch her. Alternatively, Randy wouldn’t mind Chat Noir turning up again. He could clearly get some good height with his baton stick thing, providing he’d managed to find it wherever Randy had dropped it, and if they worked together, they could totally take this dragon down. He seemed to have some idea of what the whole evil butterfly thing was, too.

Honestly, though, Randy would settle for Mr. Mysterious Voice finally showing up.

Randy didn’t realize he’d gone back to staring at the flames until they were suddenly covered in ice and then gone altogether. He blinked, wondering if he’d thrown a Ninja Cold Ball and somehow immediately forgotten about it.

“Ninja, we need to talk,” a familiar voice said from behind him, and Randy turned.

The voice in question belonged to a teenager (just like him) who didn’t seem to be holding any weapons (just like him) but whose suit was definitely wonk, even by Randy’s standards. The white hair was kinda distinctive, too, and he wasn’t wearing a mask, but maybe secret identities weren’t as much of a thing in the NYC because of all the people.

Randy pointed upwards. “Dragon.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that. I wanna know what else you know. Like why there’s a dragon.”

Randy stared. “You don’t find a dragon weird? I mean, that’s a real, actual, live, fire-breathing dragon. Emphasis on fire-breathing.”

The boy looked up and considered the dragon for a moment, who miraculously hadn’t decided to dive again and try to fry them both where they stood. Randy decided not to question his spot of good luck. “Yeah,” the boy finally said, “I guess you’re right about the living part. Unfortunately.”

“Wh…how…what? Why is that the part you’re questioning?” His voice did not climb when he said that. Howard did not have it recorded, so it didn’t happen. “I saw a woman get turned into a dragon!”

“A woman, huh?” The boy bit his lip and glanced toward the crowd. As if they were the problem and not the dragon. “Yeah, that’s kinda what I was afraid of. Um. Let’s talk inside.” He made a vague gesture toward the building.

Since Randy had a mask over his face, the other boy couldn’t appreciate his gaping. “I’m in the middle of a fight!”

The boy shook his head. “You’re not fighting. You’re being tested. I was watching. The dragon’s never gone for the crowd, just made you think that so you’d react. She wants to know what you can do.”

Randy crossed his arms. “So why’s she not testing you?”

The boy looked up at her again. “Maybe because she already knows what I can do?” he offered, though his words were full of enough doubt that Randy was entirely unconvinced. “This isn’t my first time in the city, and I think…. I think I know who she is, and the whole dragon thing isn’t normal for her.” He said that like it was normal for anybody, but if Randy asked, it would just delay the fight for longer. And the dragon was still watching them. Waiting. He didn’t like counting on the fact that she’d keep waiting. The moment he did that was the moment she’d stop and decide to move. And then it really would be a fight, even if Mr. Mysterious Voice didn’t think it had been before now. (What kind of shoob stood back to watch a dragon when he could clearly help fight it because he also could do stuff with ice?)

“We need to help her,” the boy continued. He looked back at Randy. “Seriously, can we just talk inside or otherwise away from the cameras for, like, two minutes? I really don’t want my face plastered all over the news if I can help it.”

He was not going to give up on the talking thing, was he? Randy scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t believe we’re getting away with this,” he muttered, but he followed the new kid and ran for cover.

XXXXXX

6:45 PM

The darkened suite of his hotel room was quiet, safely away from the chaos of the gala for all that it was so near, but Gabriel had still expected to be able to hear screams from across the street, to hear the wailing sirens and the dragon’s roar and the shouts of the failing heroes. Instead, the silence began to stretch, as if everyone were waiting.

When a second hero had run out to join the first, he hadn’t questioned Dracona’s decision to wait. He had not seen if this new hero had come with hidden friends; neither had she. When she’d decided to tilt her wings and circle again, he’d thought her reconnaissance a wise move. But then she’d let the Ninja and the new hero run off to the relative safety of the evacuated site of the gala, and her only response had been to bank right, beat her wings a few times, and circle again.

“Why are you not pursuing them, Dracona?” Gabriel growled, clenching his cane tighter. The Ninja had shown more of his hand, but the newest hero…. Gabriel knew nothing of him, aside from his ability to spread ice in a speed and volume great enough to counter Dracona’s flames.

“You wanted information about this city’s superheroes.” He could sense laughter in her response. “I’ve gotten a good look at the Ninja and have run into Phantom before. Neither belongs in this city.”

Gabriel let out a slow breath. “Where they belong doesn’t matter. They are acting as heroes—”

“Where they belong matters immensely. You only wanted information on this city’s heroes.”

“They are fighting in this city,” he answered through gritted teeth. “However temporarily, that makes them this city’s heroes.”

“I don’t agree. Their loyalty remains elsewhere. Help though they may, the responsibility of the NYC falls on the shoulders of other heroes.”

He should have her writhing in pain for even thinking of speaking to him this way, but she’d be more useful to him if he delayed that method until further pressed. After all, if she still gave him the information he wanted…. “You said you are familiar with this Phantom. Tell me about him.”

“His chosen name is rather explanatory.”

Then again, if she continued to be difficult, he just needed to—

Gabriel frowned. There was no disruption in their connection, but his displeasure wasn’t being translated into pain. Instead, he felt laughter, as if she knew precisely what he’d tried to do, and—

“You unlocked my power,” she breathed, “but you do not control it.”

And then there was nothing. No sensations, no feedback, no knowledge of Dracona’s that he could use to further his plan. She was his champion, but she had somehow managed to shut him out.

“Dark wings fall.” Something was wrong, something was faulty, something was— “Nooroo, why is this happening?”

The kwami ducked his head. “She is right, master,” he murmured. “My magic only served as a key for her latent power.”

“Then we’ll lock it up again,” Gabriel snarled. He had read of many types of magic, but none that would cause a reaction such as this. “We’ll see how bold she is once my akuma is recalled.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, master.”

Gabriel bit down on the urge to restrict Nooroo’s speech; right now, Nooroo was the only source of information he had. “And why do you say that?”

“I…I don’t know if I can contain her magic with mine now that the path is established.”

“Her magic.” Nooroo would know he was asking for details. The kwami would also know how displeased he’d be if he wasn’t given them.

“It’s a blood magic, not something that can be taken a—”

“But something that can be used?”

Nooroo hesitated.

That was all the answer Gabriel needed.

The means might be more complicated, but he had need of magic, and if he’d happened to akumatize someone with a direct line to that magic, he’d be a fool not to capitalize upon it. She might not want to give him the information he required, but she’d agreed to the contract, and she couldn’t shut him out forever. She had to tell him something.

Even if it was only about herself.

(see more fics | next)

#secret quartet #adjl #danny phantom #miraculous ladybug #rc9gn #fanfiction #crossover #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #ml snippet #dp snippet #adjl snippet #rc9gn snippet

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tempestaurora · 6 years ago

Text

WHUMPVEMBER #21: HARSH CLIMATE

i cant believe i actually finished this one in time lmao, it’s a mess AO3

Once upon a time, everyone was safe, happy and healthy, and nothing bad ever happened.

Tony wished. Nothing was ever that simple in the life of a fucking superhero-billionaire-moron with a dumbass teenager to look after. Especially when neither of them had any self-preservation instincts at all.

“You’re getting better at it,” Pepper had mused only two days earlier when she was sticking a bright pink Peppa Pig plaster over a cut on his forehead. “Really. Not going out on every mission possible. You’re making less suits, spending more time at home. And the other day you unironically bought pot pourri.”

Tony frowned. “The bathroom needed it.”

“I agree,” she said with a nod, then leaned back with realisation. “Oh, I get it now. Self-preservation instincts and being domestic go hand in hand with you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It absolutely is. You’re a trophy housewife and you love it.”

Tony hesitated, then considered for a moment. He shrugged. “At least I’m an attractive trophy housewife.”

Pepper pressed a kiss against his lips before checking her handy work with the plaster one last time. “If you weren’t, I would’ve divorced you for a younger model already.”

“Hey,” he said as she turned to place their makeshift first aid kit back in the kitchen cupboard. “If we have kids I can finally transform into my final form of stay-at-home-dad.”

Pepper laughed and she was the brightest thing in the room. “I’ll get back to you on that one. Besides, you already have a spider child to look after. You’d have your hands full with baby Starks running around.”

“Baby Starks,” Tony noted with a smile. “Plural.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Stop getting into fights with cupboard doors,” she said, gesturing to the cut on his forehead. “Tell Peter he’s invited to dinner on Friday.”

Tony had sent off a text before Pepper had even left the room, a smile firmly on his face as it usually was when he and Pepper talked about their possible family. For most of his life, children hadn’t even fit into the picture of Tony Stark – but in the previous few years, since a certain Parker tripped, stumbling and a little oblivious, into his life, Tony couldn’t imagine anything else.

TONY: dinner at mine on friday, pepper’s orders

PETER: u got it mr stark

Self-preservation instincts: something Peter Parker didn’t have.

Friday came around quickly; Tony managing to shirk most of the responsibilities for his company in the meantime and focus more on his personal projects, like fixing FRIDAY’s firewall and improving the spider-drone in Peter’s suit.

Friday morning greeted Tony with a snow storm.

He blinked, staring out at the white-covered city; snow falling at such a fast pace it was a wonder he could see anything at all. From the top floor of Stark Tower, New York looked like a white blanket, spread far and wide beneath a grey sky.

At ten AM, he received the notification that Peter was wearing the Spiderman suit.

Tony frowned, tapping his phone screen and bringing up Peter’s phone number.

He answered on the second ring.

“Morning, Mr Stark!”

“Hey, Pete,” Tony said, slow, nursing a cup of coffee as the holoscreens in front of him ran projections and numbers, one after another.

“Did you see all the snow?” Peter asked, and Tony could hear the wind and distant car horns blaring.

“Uh, yeah, I did. I also saw that you’re in your suit.”

“Sure am.”

“What happened to that little institution called school?”

Peter laughed and whooped. Tony was pretty sure he’d done a flip. “Snow day! School’s cancelled!”

“So you thought you’d Spiderman in the snow? Peter, you’re bad with the cold, I thought we talked about this last winter.” Last winter, Peter had frozen to the bone when May’s apartment heating went out. He’d been wearing four layers when May called Tony to ask if Peter could stay at the tower until the heating was fixed. Tony had taken both of them in for three weeks and bought Peter a new winter coat, seeing as his old one was worn and threadbare. He’d also gotten a minor case of pneumonia in the process. Tony was pretty sure they’d dealt with this before.

“It’s fine,” Peter promised. “I’ve got the suit heater on and my Spiderman hoodie and my coat. It’s fine! I’ve never Spidermanned in the snow before!”

“We’ve got to stop using Spiderman as a verb,” Tony muttered before sighing. “Alright, okay. If you’re sure. Don’t be late for dinner.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it! You guys order the best take out.”

“Hey! What if we were planning on cooking?”

He could hear Peter’s snort over the wind. “Pepper doesn’t like cooking after a day at work and you can’t cook to save your life. If you’re taking votes, mine goes to Chinese, okay?”

Tony rolled his eyes, mentally marking it down. “Alright, Underoos. Go fight crime. And go inside if you get too cold.”

“Yes Mom.”

Peter hung up and Tony span around in his chair, once, before dropping his phone back on the desk. “Teenagers,” he muttered.

Peter was late. Of course he was.

“I told him to get here on time,” Tony muttered, pulling out his phone as Pepper searched the kitchen for plates and cutlery.

“He’s a teenager,” she said with a vague wave of her hand. “They don’t know what punctuality is. Now imagine that but with children. They have no time management skills.”

Tony snorted, bringing up Peter’s tracker. “You realise that as the parents, we’d be in charge of their time management, right?”

Pepper hummed as if she wasn’t so sure.

Tony zoomed in on the map that appeared before him and hesitated, finding that Peter was motionless on a Manhattan rooftop about six blocks out from the tower. He checked the logs and found that the suit hadn’t moved for the past hour.

“FRI,” he said, “there haven’t been any notifications of Peter getting hurt today, right?”

“None at all, sir,” FRIDAY replied.

“What’s happening?” Pepper asked, placing the stack of plates on the kitchen table in front of him. She peered over his shoulder at the phone screen.

“He hasn’t moved in a while. He’s half an hour late and he’s spent the last hour above a diner by the park. I’m gonna call him.” Tony frowned then, listening to the phone ringing and not get picked up. A moment later, he checked the map and still found Peter not to be moving – usually when Tony phoned, Peter at least realised he was supposed to be somewhere else.

Pepper breathed out a sigh through her nose. “You’re gonna go and get him, right?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, quiet. “I’d better. You know you could come, too, right?”

“What about the take out?”

“FRIDAY can just tell the delivery guy to leave it in the elevator. We’ll get it when we come back.” Pepper pursed her lips and Tony knew she was one good excuse from cracking. “We could test run your suit,” he said with a smile.

Pepper’s arms twisted around his neck, a smile playing across her lips. “You mean my superhero suit?”

“Yes, Mrs Stark, I mean your super badass superhero suit.”

She hummed once and then smiled. “Okay! Okay. Let’s go pick up your child.”

Tony snorted, taking her outstretched hand to head for the balcony. “We’re married, Pep. He’s yours too, you know.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” she said, opening the door, the cold air rushing at them suddenly. “Because if he’s mine too, I’ll make sure I get custody of him in the divorce.”

Tony gasped. “You would never.”

“Watch me.”

Pepper had barely winced when Tony had injected the sensors into her arms. She’d been listing off stock prices and key numbers he needed to remember for an upcoming meeting, and she hadn’t even let him know she could even feel it. (Sometimes, Tony thought about Extremis and how he wiped it from her system – sometimes, he wondered if a slither of it remained in the way her eyes shone something dangerous when she was angry, and how pain meant much less to her after having her insides boil.)

They called to the suits in tandem; cold air biting at their skin before metal pieces interlocked around their limbs; shining red and gold for Tony and a sleek purple and black for Pepper. Their faceplates slammed into place last and Tony took an appreciative look at Pepper’s suit, the heaters starting up automatically.

“I should’ve given you a suit years ago,” he commented.

“Yes,” Pepper replied. “You should’ve.”

They shot off into the sky, Peter’s location blinking on their visors. He still hadn’t moved. They raced over, making the distance in only a matter of seconds; Pepper looping in the air as she went just for the hell of it and Tony, taking the time to look at the ant-people on the street, bundled up warm and pointing at the two armoured heroes flying overhead.

“There,” he said, pinpointing the roof next to the park. He landed first, Pepper shortly after and frowned, visor slipping up.

“There’s no one here,” Pepper said, stating the obvious. The roof was entirely empty; just coated with thick snow and—footprints. Tony stepped over to them, looking at how they trailed in circles, slipped about and eventually moved to the edge of the roof where, Tony assumed, Peter had jumped off.

For his own peace of mind, he glanced over the ledge and released a breath at the alley below, empty of vigilantes and injured bodies alike.

“Tony,” Pepper said from behind him. He turned, finding that she’d followed a large loop of the footprints all the way over to the other side of the roof, where the short wall that included the door heading inside stood. She span to face him, holding a ratty backpack in her hands. “Found his suit.”

Tony stepped over as she pulled the familiar fabric of the Spiderman suit out of the pack. The rest of it held a half-read book, a jumble of pens and change and Peter’s house keys with a tiny Iron Man keyring.

“I better get a Rescue line of merch when we officially unveil me to the world,” Pepper said, smirking at the keyring. By holding down a small button on the foot, the arc reactor glowed blue.

“I’m sure you will,” Tony replied. “I’ll get you a Rescue sweatshirt and everything.” He was pretty sure it would be similar to the red one that he owned – only purple with the same arc reactor in the centre of the chest; the power core to the suit. “Let’s focus on finding Peter, first.”

Pepper hummed, zipping the backpack shut and slinging it over her shoulder. Wisps of webbing drifted in the wind. “Call him again.”

Tony did. This time, thank god, Peter picked up.

“Hey!” he said, and Peter could hear chatter and laughter, rather than the wind, this time.

“Hey yourself,” Tony replied, “you had a look at the time recently?”

There was a pause then, “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Mr Stark! I got totally side-tracked!”

“We noticed.”

He could almost hear Peter’s wince. “Oh my god, is Miss Potts mad at me?”

“It’s Mrs Stark now,” Tony replied, mild, “but no, she isn’t. We came looking for you when you didn’t pick up the phone though. We’ve got your backpack – where are you?”

“I’m at the park over the road,” Peter said and yelped suddenly. “Hey! Unfair! I’m on the phone!”

Tony nodded over to the far side of the roof, where the road was, and Pepper followed him over. Across the road a small park sat, half play park with a jungle gym and swing set, and half a patch of grass. The grass side contained about ten kids, all high school-aged, competing in a snowball fight. The grass was tramped over, the fences and benches were used as cover, and the teenagers were laughing uproariously as they leapt about, pretending to be action heroes as they threw snowballs and dodged dramatically.

“Well this is better than him being tragically injured,” Pepper noted. “So, about 200% better than whatever scenario I was imagining.”

“Agreed,” Tony replied.

“Sorry, sorry,” Peter said, on the phone. Tony noticed him on the far left, hidden behind the bench, his body swamped in his Spiderman hoodie and winter coat. “I can meet you back at the tower or something? Or on the roof? I’ll swing back?”

“Oh, no, kid,” Tony responded with a smile. “I’ve got a better idea.” He hung up, shared a knowing grin with Pepper and the two of them leapt off the roof, flying over to the park.

He heard Peter’s groan beneath the shocked gasps of the teenagers. Tony and Pepper, faceplates removed, looked between the groups.

Tony clapped his hands together. “I wanna be on Pete’s team,” he announced. “Pep, we’re gonna kick your ass.”

She raised her eyebrows, looking over to where Peter was moving out from behind the bench, Ned nearby and in awe, MJ tilting her head at the two of them. “Sorry, sweetie, he called you first. Don’t worry though, I’m getting custody of you in the divorce.”

Peter groaned then shook his head. “I’m not legally your child,” he replied, seemingly deciding it was better to just accept his fate than fight it.

“Key word: legally,” Pepper replied, before spinning on her heel and joining the right-hand team.

“Oh my god, you’re Pepper Potts,” a girl on that team said. She’d later be introduced as Cindy, but for now, Pepper grinned.

“Pepper Stark as of a month and a half ago,” she corrected as she ditched Peter’s backpack with the pile of them by the fence. “But call me Pepper.”

Tony wandered over to the other team, slinging and armoured arm around Peter.

“Are you going to embarrass me?” Peter asked as his friends – Tony recognised them all from the Academic Decathlon team – joined the group huddle.

“Oh absolutely,” Tony replied, “but that’s what you get for being late to dinner. Plus, embarrassing your child is an excellent Dad move and I’m trying to convince Pepper to have kids.”

Peter snorted then let out a bark of laughter when a snowball slammed into the back of Tony’s head. He span around suddenly, seeing Pepper, smirking, her entire team already in defensive positions, each holding a snowball.

“Keep up, short stuff,” she said.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Oh, it’s on.”

(When the three of them returned home that night, freezing, tired and laughing, they found cold Chinese takeaway sitting in the elevator, and elected to just cook a frozen pizza instead.

“Good parenting,” Peter commented, mild, when Pepper asked if he wanted desert. He got a light flick around the ear from Pepper, but Tony winked at him across the table. Yeah, they’d be pretty good parents, he thought, even to ones with little-to-no self-preservation instincts.)

#pepperony #irondad spiderson #marvel #mcu #tony stark #bethany talks #whumpvember

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transphormers · 6 years ago

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Wanna explain for people who only saw the cartoons and movies what the warfrimes of bumblebee entail? Cause i am interested 👀

I actually wrote a fcking essay and barely evenanswered your question. Im so sorry. I wish I knew how to focus on the actuallyrelevant things dfaksjdfkshd Also please take this answer with a grain of saltcause my brain refuses to separate “actual canon” from “things I like to thinkare canon” 98% of the time. Also I’m feeling slightlydecepticon-simpatizer-like today, just so u kno

Oh, sure! Tho I must saythis answer may disappoint you, because I wasn’t thinking of Bumblebee’sparticular crimes when I made the propaganda post, more like… the Autobot’s ingeneral. (I assume it was the propaganda post that brought you here, anyway!)

(TL;DR: In IDW comics theAutobot/Decepticon conflict is not (as heavily) presented as a thing of goodvs. evil, but rather as a more complex thing which explores questions of grey morality,the greater good, means to an end, and so on. My comment about Bumblebee beingpropaganda was half-joking and half-serious, because it is not that deep, butit could be!

On the one hand, I was justmessing around. On the other, I do find it interesting how the visualrepresentation (as well as the influence of past incarnations of the charactersand popular culture) influence and shape our opinions on certain characters andtheir actions. All of this the point where these influences prevail even whenthe character has (drastically) changed and thus have little or anything to dowith the first “influencer” character.)

If you have seen the movies(by which I assume you mean Bayverse) you may have notices that, no matter whatthe main narrative tries to paint it as, the Autobots don’t always behave very…heroically. In fact, if it weren’t because we know (well, more or less) thebots already we would have a hard time telling the good and the bad guys apartin some parts of the movies. Something similar happens in the IDW’s TF comics.

(If you meant the cartoonmovie(s?) then I won’t comment anything on them cause I truly know nothingabout them)

There is a lot going on inthe comics all the time, but let me give you some basic context:

While the IDW’s TF’s comics(Gen 1) do show us part of the Autobot/Decepticon war a big part of the comicsactually focuses on the post-war time. If you were rooting for the Autobots I’ve got some good news foryou: They won! If you were rooting for anyone else… well… Things could be worse.

In the comics Megatron, whohas an interesting backstory as a freedom fighter gone wrong and then rightagain (tho I digress), actually surrenders. He is put on trial and ends uphaving wacky space adventures with Rodimus and company. But he got more thanenough attention on the comics already, so let’s focus on Cybertron instead. Alsothe Rodimus’ crew? They have never done anything wrong, ever! In their lives!(with some notable exceptions)

But where was I? Ah yeah,Cybertron. Good old Cybertron is a mess. Ravaged by the war, it is far frombeing the home some Cybertronians remember. Who is to blame for that? Dependson whom you ask. If you ask the Autobots? The Decepticons did it! If you askthe Decepticons? The Autobots are at fault! If you ask the Neutrals (i.e.Cybertronians who refused to participate in the war or defected during thecourse of it)? Autobots and Decepticons alike are guilty! And if you ask me?Well, you may call me a neutral, but two cannot fight if one does not want to.(Then again, are the Neutrals truly innocent in all this mess? That is aquestion for another day and many headcanons)

But, hey! The war is over,so it is time to move forwards! Forgive and forget, right? Well… kind of. TheAutobots—lead by Bumblebee—and the Neutrals—lead by a former Autobot nowpacifist named Metalhawk— don’t agree on many things, but they have some commoninterests. Mostly, they do not trust the other to rule the planet—nor do theythink the other deserve to do so--, and they both hate the Decepticons. Rememberwhen I said things could be worse if you weren’t an Autobot? It was true, butthey could also be better.

(Here my memory is failingand I can’t find the exact information I was looking for, so try to only halfbelieve me here) Most/all Decepticons who are back in Cybertron are now livingin a shitty half-collapsed building/old & grounded ship* (?), and they are alsochipped. “Chipped?” You may ask, “Like a pet?” And wouldn’t that be fucked upor what? But it’s actually worse. Most/all (?) Decepticons are now the proudowners of an I/D chip, which prevents them from transforming and using special anyspecial abilities they may have. And, fun fact, also has an explosive builtinto it, so any misbehaving Decepticons may be taken care of “accordingly”. Decepticonsare also being appointed as law enforcers by Prowl (sadly and thankfully notninja-hippie Prowl from tfa, but the fucked up IDW version of Prowl, which Iwill talk about more in a little while). This comes in handy when one of them,Horribul, gets in trouble and the Autobots (mostly Bumblebee & co.) decidethey have to make an example out of him, because they simply can’t have theother Decepticons thinking they can do whatever they want, do they?

A series of fun facts:

1º- The Decepticons hadmanaged to deactivate the chips, but to maintain their cover they had to killHorribull :(

2º- Bumblebee, of course, didn’tknew that so he was still cool with killing someone to make an example out ofthem

3º- To add a little bit ofdrama: Horribull died right in front of his conjux (i.e. his sparkmate,husband, w/e you wan’t to call it)

I think this is the mostrelevant fucked up thing Bumblebee has done that I can remember/paid attentionto. The fact that he was an active participant on a war that went on forcenturies (at least) and that he is far from being an innocent bystander—justlike anyone who willingly participated in the war—is relevant too, but I don’tfeel like getting too much into it. And I have homework to do, so there’s thattoo. So sadly I can’t give you a list ofhis war crimes, but I don’t think it is needed to understand that IDW Bumblebeehas little to nothing to do with cartoons Bumblebee and maybe more to do withfucked up violent Bayverse bee (with the exception of Bumblebee (2018)Bumblebee who is my lil baby whom I love)

*I truly can’t remember ifthis was their choice or if they were told to move there. Either way it addsdramatism to the whole situation so I gotta mention it.

#dont take this too seriously #and only really pay attention to the tldr cause im just divagating afterwards #I gave up towards the end cause i truly have other things to do #but if i dont finish this now i will never do it #ask #Anonymous

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thesinglesjukebox · 6 years ago

Video

youtube

ARIANA GRANDE - GOD IS A WOMAN

[7.22]

And life is a... temple...?

Anna Suiter: Is "God is a woman" a sex song? Is it sacrilegious? Does it matter? Not really, in the end. It's absolutely sexual. It doesn't shy away from that. It's the sexuality in that makes it a pointed jab at her critics, especially those who say that she's always been less than mature. This isn't something that feels forced. It's celebratory. Even with that sexual undertone it still celebrates women in a way that doesn't feel exclusionary from the lyrics and tone of the song. It's meant to feel a little bit like you're in church, at least at parts (choirs tend to do that). Even if you can't usually dance to a hymn, there's something in this one that makes you move whether you really want to or not. Who even knew that was possible? [9]

Katherine St Asaph: Points, in theory, for actually going with the title instead of shoving it behind, I dunno, "(God Is A) Woman." And the conceit is audacious enough, even though it's essentially "I Invented Sex." But God frowns upon lazy campfire strums, particularly when the vocals are way too overdressed in processing for the minimal surroundings. I assume Max Martin et al wanted the song to build, but Ariana's vocals only make sense after the two-minute mark, when all the parts are in place. [5]

Alex Clifton: What I expected: a rewrite of "God Is a DJ" but, like, God is a lady DJ? What I got: the female response to "Take Me to Church" but, like, actually sexy. [7]

Alfred Soto: If I believed in God and thought gender mattered for deities, I'd agree with Ariana one hundred percent. God prefers fresher beats and approaches, regardless of gender. [5]

Ryo Miyauchi: It's not that I don't believe Ari's claim that "he sees the universe when I'm in company," but it's just not sticking no matter how many different angles she tries to throw it. The languid guitar riffs already don't make it easy to make this any more tangible, but the lyrics are an awkward, formless thing to trace without a percussive bounce to its cadence, including that important titular line. When she doubles up on the trap triplets, it's also not the most graceful rhyme. Those "yeah" ad libs thankfully provide some grounding, though it's unfortunate if that is the sole hook for a song titled "God Is a Woman" after it's done. [5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: It's both a relief and a disappointment that this is a midtempo sex jam instead of the glorious piece of imperial, churchy megapop implied by the title-- a relief because Ariana always does this sort of thing with extreme skill, but a disappointment because "God is a Woman" stops just short of great, hemmed in by a certain lack of ambition that leaves it more a pleasant trifle than a career-defining smash. But maybe I'm just grading on a curve here-- even Ariana's trifles are more imposing than most pop singers' grand statements, and this does everything it needs to do to earn a spot in the pantheon of psuedo-holy pop. [7]

Matias Taylor: Max Martin, who has enjoyed perhaps the most consistent stay at the forefront of popular music of any songwriter and producer ever, has spent his career synthesizing diverse sounds and styles, from bubblegum ("Oops!...I Did It Again") to indie rock ("Since U Been Gone") to reggae pop ("One More Night"), stripping them down to their essential ingredients and transforming them into slices of pop genius. On this track, the product of his and his trusted collaborators efforts is like nothing they've ever been involved with: there are echoes of classic rock, trap, and gospel, often simultaneously; there is the daring, instant-classic lyrical conceit; and there is that video, impossible to look away from. But the woman behind the microphone (who is also listed as the first songwriter) is the real secret ingredient: this is Ariana Grande's golden moment, where she fully embraces the creative potential her work hinted at previously. Like a true deity, both her vocals and the soundscape seem like they are part of the same eternal creation; she luxuriates in the chorus, at one with those decadent, gorgeous guitars; she effortlessly switches up her cadence and tone to match the chopped up pseudo trap verses; she conjures up a choir and then single-handedly overpowers it through sheer passion. Ariana has toyed with lustful abandon before, but here she becomes the very embodiment of carnal desire, with a mystical conception of her own sexuality. The verses contain a familiar mix of come-ons and self-empowerment, but this time re-contextualized into an examination of sex and gender; this is not just a song about the power of eroticism, but also about knowing your worth and demanding what you want, all wrapped in a perfect metaphor. It's a stunning evolution, one befitting of the superb modern pop that brings it to life courtesy of the genre's best contemporary producers, songwriters, and singer. Dream teams don't always reach their full potential, but there might just have been some kind of divine intervention on the day they sat down to write this one. [10]

Stephen Eisermann: Sultry R&B-pop hybrid suits Ariana better than anything else because of her natural phrasing and vocal inflections, but this song in particular, with its shifts in pace and instrumentation, feels tailor made for her. Though the title feels a tad click-baity, it's extremely fitting considering that this song feels like the event single we've all been waiting for: this will mark the transition into superstardom for Ariana. It's bombastic, catchy, unique, a bit corny, and, above all else, impactful. [8]

Abdullah Siddiqui: I've been forced to give this song a lot of thought. It genuinely confuses me. There's nothing really remarkable or innovative about it. But I can't get the damn thing out of my head. Living with it for a couple weeks, I've had to re-examine my criteria for a great song. Maybe a great song doesn't need to be inventive and elaborate and skillful. Maybe it just needs to sound good in my ear-holes. And that, it so does. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Ariana Grande

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