#like the characters for spelling his name r flipped | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kjack89 · 2 years ago

Text

Cast a Spell on You

For @themiserablesmonth Day 15: Magic.

Modern AU, developing E/R.

Read on AO3.

Grantaire didn’t even wait for Joly to open to his apartment door all the way before brushing past him, a panicked look on his face. “I did something stupid,” he announced.

Joly just managed to not roll his eyes. “It must be a day ending in ‘y’,” he murmured as he closed the door.

Grantaire gave him a look. “For once in my life, I’m being completely serious.”

Joly gave him an appraising look, heading into the kitchen to put the kettle on. “Ok, well, if you’re coming to me about it, either it’s medical or it’s too weird for you to be going to Combeferre about it, so since I don’t see any active bleeding—”

“I don’t know if weird is the right word for it,” Grantaire hedged, “but given your predilection for, y’know, magnetism and whatever the fuck else—”

Joly scowled. “There is scientific basis—”

“Joly, I love you, but you have no earthly idea how much I do not care right now.”

Though Joly’s scowl deepened, he didn’t bother trying to continue, instead giving Grantaire a measured look. “So you did something stupid.”

Grantaire jerked a nod. “Supremely, unbelievably stupid.”

Joly’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

Grantaire took a deep breath before blurting, “I cast a spell on Enjolras.”

“You—what?”

“I cast a spell on Enjolras,” Grantaire repeated, a little desperately. “A love spell, to be specific. And I’m pretty sure it worked.”

Ten minutes later, they were both sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of tea in front of each man, though Joly had been kind enough to slip a bit of brandy into Grantaire’s. “Ok, so let’s start at the beginning,” he said bracingly. “You cast a spell on Enjolras?” Grantaire nodded miserably. “Seeing as how you’re not a character out of, I don’t know, Harry fucking Potter, how exactly did you manage this?”

Grantaire sighed. “So I was at the library,” he started.

Joly blinked. “Why were you at the library?”

Grantaire gave him a dirty look. “Because I wanted to check out a book, Joly, what the fuck else would I be doing at the library?”

Joly snorted into his tea. “I don’t know, I just can’t really picture you reading.”

“Do you think I pull all the classical references I make out of my ass, or…?”

Joly ignored him, instead prompting, “So you were at the library.”

Grantaire nodded. “Right. And they had this whole display up for Halloween, with all kinds of books. And one was this massive fucking thing, labeled something like the Omnomnomicon or something.”

That took Joly a moment to decipher. “Necronomicon, maybe?”

Grantaire just waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever the fuck it was. So I had a few hours to kill, and I figured, why the fuck not, you know?” He took a pull of his tea and made a face. “At first I was going to just try something dumb, but then I thought, what the hell, if I’m going to try something, I might as well benefit from it. So I was flipping through to find a spell for instant wealth because, you know, inflation, but I flipped to the wrong page and instead I landed on, well…”

He trailed off and Joly nodded slowly. “A love spell.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said. “And, uh, well, again, it’s not like I believed any of this was actually going to work, so I figured, why the fuck not.” He jerked a shrug. “Besides, it was pretty uncomplicated, all I needed was a few candles, some chanting, and a glass of red wine, which I happen to have, y’know, a lot of.”

“So you lit the candles, and did the chanting—” Joly glanced at him. “What did you have to do with the wine?”

“Draw an upside-down pentacle and then write the intended name underneath.”

“Really?”

The look Grantaire gave him was scathing. “No, I had to drink it, you idiot.”

“Well, excuse me for not being up on my witchcraft and spells,” Joly shot back. He set his mug down on the table and sighed. “Look, you did the spell, which was admittedly not the brightest thing you’ve ever done, but what on God’s green earth makes you think that it worked?”

Grantaire worried his lower lip between his teeth. “That’s the thing. About an hour later, Enjolras texted me. He asked me to get coffee with him. I’m supposed to be meeting him in…” He checked the time on his phone. “Forty-five minutes.”

Joly pinched the bridge of his nose. “And instead you’re here, panicking, because Enjolras texted you to get coffee.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Joly took a deep breath and counted to ten in his head before asking, “How many times a week do you get coffee with Enjolras?”

Grantaire scowled, like he knew where Joly was going with this. “Like, four,” he said, before quickly adding, “But he never texts me to set it up ahead of time. Normally we’re in the middle of talking about something else—”

“You mean arguing.”

“—And we’ll just mutually decide to grab a coffee or something to eat.” Grantaire shrugged again. “It’s never, y’know, pre-arranged.”

Joly sighed again. “Grantaire, I don’t know how to say this nicely, but, um, magic isn’t real.”

Grantaire took a swig of his tea before rasping, “Until about twelve hours ago, I didn’t think it was either.”

“Isn’t the easier explanation that this is just a massive coincidence?” Joly asked. “You are familiar with Occam’s Razor, right?”

“Is it something for shoving up your ass for being a condescending prick?” Grantaire asked dryly.

“Cute,” Joly said, matching his tone. “But seriously, this doesn’t need to be a massive conspiracy theory. Maybe Enjolras just wants to get coffee.” He steepled his hands and took another deep breath before saying, “Or maybe, and bear with me here on this one because you’re gonna pull a nutty, but maybe he already liked you before the spell, and just decided it was finally time to act on it.”

Grantaire stared at him as if he had grown a second head. “I thought you were the one trying to be serious.”

Joly rolled his eyes. “I am,” he said impatiently. “You two have been practically dating for the past, like, two years, so it’s not exactly out of the realm of possibility.”

“Joly, this is Enjolras we’re talking about,” Grantaire said, beginning to sound like he was concerned Joly might’ve suffered a head injury.

“No shit.”

“He doesn’t like me.”

Joly tried hard not to give him a patronizing look, but at this point, any patience he had was long since evaporated. “Grantaire.”

“He doesn’t like me!” Grantaire insisted. “All we do is fight!”

“Yeah and yet somehow, you’ve figured out how to fall in love with him,” Joly said evenly.

“That’s– that’s different!” Grantaire spluttered.

“How?”

Grantaire crossed his arms in front of his chest. “It just is.”

Joly threw his hands up in frustration. “Fine, let’s say you’re right. Let’s say that somehow, despite you having no magical abilities and magic not being real, your love spell worked, and Enjolras is suddenly, out of the blue and not through years of wearing him down and all of his other potential options hooking up with other people, in love with you. Where exactly is the problem with that?”

“Consent.”

Grantaire said the word gravely, and Joly paused. “Consent?”

Grantaire nodded. “He didn’t consent to this,” he said softly. “To the spell and whatever effect it’s had. And as much as I would give anything to date Enjolras—”

Understanding hit Joly like a ton of bricks. “You wouldn’t want to force him into this.”

“No,” Grantaire said softly.

Joly sighed heavily, because it wasn’t like he was going to argue with that. “Then there’s only one thing you can do.”

Grantaire looked at him hopefully. “What?”

“Cast a counterspell,” Joly said, with as much sincerity as he could muster. “If Enjolras still wants to go out with you after that, he really does like you.”

Grantaire stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“No, because once again, magic is not real!” Joly snapped. But if you’re convinced that that’s why Enjolras wants to go out with you, then what do you have to lose?”

Grantaire made a face. “The chance to go out on a date with him, mostly.”

Joly sighed, wishing for about the fifth in the last twenty minutes that he had ignored Grantaire’s knock on his door. “There’s no reason you can’t do both,” he said impatiently. “It’s not like you’re going work out a counterspell between now and coffee, so you might as well go, see if Enjolras can convince you that you’ve actually lost your fucking mind, and if he doesn’t, then when you go home, you figure out the counterspell and go from there.”

For a long moment, Grantaire was silent. Then he nodded slowly. “That’s actually not a terrible idea.”

“I do occasionally have good ideas,” Joly said sourly.

“Only when you are Bossuet are not in the same room,” Grantaire pointed out. “You lose all IQ points when the two of you are together.”

Joly snorted. “Harsh but fair.”

Grantaire took a deep, steadying breath. “Alright, then I guess I’m going to get coffee with Enjolras.”

Sensing his part in this adventure was done, Joly sat back in his chair with something like relief and raised his mug of tea in a toast. “Well, good luck with that.”

Grantaire stood, hesitating for a moment before asking, somewhat desperately, “You really think I’ve lost my mind, haven’t you?”

Joly took a moment to answer. “I think that when confronted with getting everything you’ve ever wanted, you find it easier to make up a reason why it can’t possibly be true rather than accepting it at face value.”

“So you do think I’m crazy.”

Joly shrugged serenely. “Just severely mentally ill.” He gave Grantaire a pointed look. “An opinion I believe is shared by your psychologist, psychiatrist and NA sponsor.”

Grantaire barked a laugh. “Wouldn’t it be faster to just say ‘Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs’?”

“Probably,” Joly said with a shrug. “But I prefer being medically accurate.”

“Since when?”

Joly glowered at him. “Go get coffee, please.”

“Fine.” Grantaire said. “But if this counter-spell ends up being complicated, you’re helping me.”

Joly rolled his eyes and ordered, “Go.” Grantaire obediently turned to leave, though he paused when Joly added, “Oh, and Grantaire?”

“Yeah?”

“Let me know how it goes.”

Grantaire gave him the finger, which was as good an answer as Joly was going to get, and Joly returned to his tea, hesitating for a moment before pulling his phone out and texting Combeferre. I need to give you a quick head’s up.

Yeah? Combeferre replied, just a moment later.

Joly sat back in his chair, taking a sip of tea as he texted, You know when I told you that you should tell Enjolras that he needed to get off his ass and just ask Grantaire out already? Well, funny story about that…

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #grantaire #joly #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #developing relationship #witchcraft

54 notes · View notes

wickedpact · 3 years ago

Note

Crim pls do a J/N fic rec post at some point in the future I trust you more than I trust myself looking rouge through AO3

im kinda eh abt the concept of fic recs myself just bc the whole 'Different Strokes For Different Folks' thing (idk how many times someone i liked in a fandom made a fic rec list and i ended up not liking anything they posted). plus i have weirdly specific tastes and i.. .. honestly havent read a ton of joenicky fic! (i have a FAT to-read list) but ive been asked this a couple times now so i will slap together a couple joenicky fics i like (not comprehensive, i only spent like 15 minutes making this. also not in any particular order.)

Kiss Each Other Clean by moodlighting

i like this whole fic, but the last 6 or so paragraphs in particular SEND ME TO SPACE, i love cuddling. also [joe voice] nickel neekee

what you seek is seeking you by bankrobbery

i actually recced this one once before. idk its cute i just Like It. (also nicky pretending not to know english bc a customer is pissing him off is Very Funny and i love it)

with every inch of my heart by smilebackwards

i like this one a lot, i think nickys pov should Always be this tender. i dont like miscommunication trope much, (esp with joenicky) but i do like this fic-- the miscommunication in question is far-fetched but its joenicky so of course it is. just enjoy the Angst™

i love michelangelo seeing nicky all dirty and bloody after a fight and being like 'DAMN this bitch is fine' (same). (AND the fact that nicky only agrees to travel with him in the name of wasting the pope's money lmao). the fact that joe and nicky broke up But They Still Snuggle. nile knowing like 2 things about joe and nicky's breakup & pretty much immediately taking nicky's side. joe looking at the creation of adam and bein like 'EH'.

nicky carrying around his little joe drawing? nicky carrying around a spare toothbrush for booker? nicky telling little children stories about a princess locked in a coffin under the sea? ('perhaps someday, if an iron coffin is caught in a net or washed up onto the shore, they’ll remember the princess, a victim and not a monster' EXCUSE ME)

(also 'I have drawn you a thousand times since we parted. I sculpted your likeness, just so that I could pretend to cup your cheek. You are so much warmer than marble, hayati.' R O M A N C E)

Pas Un Ange by inlovewithnight

there are a lot of fics i love in a way thats like 'this fic is fun but it doesnt feel like something that would happen in the Actual Canon' (which is fine!) but this one Does feel like it could happen in The Actual Canon which is cool

this fic also has probably my favorite depiction of nicky's relationship with god/religion in any fic ive read ('[nicky's] peace had come only after walking away from faith as a competition of intensity in favor of faith as a steady compass that he followed like the beat of his heart in his chest.'). i love the whole Drama played out by the background characters and how they all have their own ideas and motivations & nicky is just kind of resigned to being caught in the middle of it.

(also love how near the beginning joe's like 'the Right thing to do in the situation would be stay at this river and help these people.... ... ....... ... .... ... anyways see ya guys later gotta go find nicky'.)

also joe chatting up a pig and the five minutes later chatting up some goats was so cute. & nicky trying to tell the baby's mother how to save it!!!! </3 AND THEY ARGUE ABOUT CHARITY on the way home (not before joe injects a comment abt nickys ass into regular conversation bc Romance™) its a bit of a sad fic tho, that poor baby 🥺

Intercession by PrincessDesire

can i interest you in some Swamp Man Nicky in this trying time?

someone recced this fic to me and i dont remember who. but note that the major character death tag is not, in fact, for a major character but for a background one. neither joe or nicky perma!die in this. also normally i dont like fics where joe or nicky are bi bc Thats Not Canon Babey but i do like this one, i love joe's relationship with Grace and how nicky's perception of that relationship gets flipped on its head halfway thru the fic. i also love joe's Weariness Of Immortality, like when joe talks about how 'youthful' nicky makes him feel. his pov just kind of Feels like an old man and i like it

theres a smut scene in this fic which im personally not big on smut scenes but theres this bit where joe tries to figure out condoms and its very cute. also 'You have many kinds of magic, Nicky. All your spells have worked.' ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

also i just like how WHIPPED joe is from like the first 3 seconds he sees nicky. theres one bit where nicky's like 'ill come visit you!' and joe's like 'when🥺' and nicky's like 'as soon as you like!' and joes like 'now?????🥺🥺🥺 literally come home with me???' incredible.

also the Magic System was cool. i also love how nicky just Accidentally made himself immortal. what a man. also i like this line 'it would never occur to [nicky] to attend any service that wasn’t going to have a direct outcome. Grace takes comfort from it, so maybe that’s the only outcome needed.' idk its so sweet

edit: also i cant believe i forgot the iconic line 'Yusuf is a man of two minds, one large and underutilized, the other small and underutilized.' absolutely iconic & relatable

#Anonymous

55 notes · View notes

seertale · 3 years ago

Text

I posted 198 times in 2021

114 posts created (58%)

84 posts reblogged (42%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.7 posts.

I added 33 tags in 2021

#random - 8 posts

#undertale - 5 posts

#nightmare!sans - 4 posts

#help - 3 posts

#nightmare sans - 3 posts

#ship child - 2 posts

#dreamtale - 2 posts

#shipchild - 2 posts

#dreamtale au - 2 posts

#commissions - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 83 characters

#comment or reblog some irl vs minecraft jokes and i'll reblog/screenshot them later

My Top Posts in 2021

I guess a continuation

Small death/blood TW but only cause the sea witch is a bitch and deserves it

@help-im-a-gay-fish @psychomeows @teeveeblog

Cross' POV

Dream's POV

After Dream had found him again, the siren was completely silent. There were no signs that they were capable of speech or even making the clicks and shrieks again. This was worrying, especially to Dream. This was a siren. They were supposed to shriek and sing and stuff but... this one couldn't. Not anymore. What had happened to them? They seemed only half as energetic as a few days ago. Were they hurt? In pain? Something like that?

He sighed from where he was sitting with them, holding them close and kind of comfortingly. They'd have to go through physical therapy, though really only after they figured out what had happened to their voice. For now, though, he figured he'd get to know them a bit. With a small smile, he stood, picking them up.

"Were gonna figure out your name and your preferred pronouns, ok?"

The siren nodded, leaning into him a bit. They'd probably never been this cared for, or they'd just had a bad experience of some sort. Dream didn't dwell on it. He carried them to the library, setting them down on a soft chair for now. He'd made sure they had clothes, just a simple shirt, and comfortable pants, that way they didn't wander around the castle naked. They walked over to a shelf and pulled out an old book of dialects and writings.

"Ok. What we're gonna do is you're gonna tell me how you spell your name with this book. Ok?" The skele-siren nodded and he opened the page to the dialects the siren might know since they had different ways to write than humans did.

The skeleton studied the different letters and pointed them out in order. Slowly, since he had to find them, they translated to C-r-o-s-s. Dream smiled a bit almost immediately.

"Cross... that's a lovely name, you know...?"

He watched the skeleton nod and smiled a bit more.

"Now, before I just assume your gender, are you a male or boy or whatever...?"

Another nod. He smiled just a bit more.

"Cross, a very wonderful and handsome siren..."

~~~

Cross smiled a bit at Dream. He'd already been told Dream's name and pronouns. He was just glad the skeleton was helping him out. Especially with how much his feet had hurt while trying to stand, though he'd been unable to stand properly anyway. His legs had felt like jello.

"So what can I do to help you, Cross...? Your voice is gone..."

Cross looked back at the book. He'd flipped to the mermaid dialects, and their translations, a bit to Dream's surprise, since he didn't think a siren would know mermaid. Making sure Dream was able to see it, he pointed to the letters. S-e-a w-i-t-c-h.

"Oh... did they take your voice...?"

He nodded.

"And how do we get it back...?"

K-i-l-l.

"Well... uh... that's a bit harsh... don't you think...?"

Cross shook his head. Poseiden, this was hard without his voice, even if he could only sing. He didn't quite know how to do this and convince Dream, or at least some of Dream's guards, to kill the witch and get his voice back. But he was determined to do it, so he spelled out p-a-p-e-r and, almost immediately, Dream was up and grabbing something to write down what he was going to say. Once he came back, Dream started writing whatever Cross pointed out.

"'Sea witch makes pain and has voice'...? like... your voice...?"

Cross nodded.

"And where can I find them...?"

~~~

See the full post

24 notes • Posted 2021-04-22 13:15:58 GMT

A Bit of Assistance

"I thought you said to be here by 8."

"I did."

"So... why is it, like, 9:30 and you're just showing up?"

"Cause a little incident occurred, but it's fine."

Coffee Creamer moved to open up the cafe for the day. Stepping inside, he heard Nightmare follow and he started getting things ready, starting up machines, the lights, and getting the desserts that were made the night before. Nightmare moved to look around more properly.

It was easy to slip behind the counter, which had a small register. CC worked on setting out all of the breakfast items they served, which were seen through the glass front. He made sure all the labels were set accordingly and that none of the nut products combined with the non-nut ones, just in case. He also set some gluten-free ones off to the side for those with allergies.

Nightmare took a step back, examining all the machines and the kitchen while Creamer worked on the counter. Everything was cheap but looked like it worked well. It probably did with Creamer's ability to fix it all. Did he do upgrades too? He was distracted from his thoughts by CC speaking.

"Alright. Since we don't have time for training, you work the counter and tell me what people order. Menu's up there," he pointed to the ceiling. Nightmare's gaze followed it to see a menu above all of the machines.

"And you have a smaller one for yourself right here." He tapped an advertisement stand on the counter, of which the back had a smaller menu on.

"Do you need glasses to see this or do I need to get you a bigger menu?"

Anyone who was just watching them would think that Coffee was trying to be courteous, but he was being passive-aggressive in reality and kind of making fun of Nightmare for having one eyelight

"I can see perfectly fine, thank you very much."

"Then read that with picking it up and standing next to the register."

He nodded and looked at it, then squinted, "Uhhhmmm..."

CC rubbed the bridge of his 'nose', "Jesus Christ... alright. I'll get you a bigger one and, if you still can't see it, look at the giant one. People will know you're new so it's fine."

Nightmare waited as Coffee went to the back and came back with a menu he could set on the top of the register without blocking anything. This one was a bit easier to see and he quietly thanked CC. Creamer just nodded and turned on the open sign before moving to get the machines running. It took only minutes for people to start coming in and ordering the foods and drinks.

The one Nightmare found most peculiar was a skeleton with a black splotch on his cheek, almost like a bad bruise. He wore a brown painter's smock and had a hint of a marijuana smell, though not as noticeable among the smells of the food and coffee. Rather than going to the register, the skeleton headed to the side of the counter and called out for Coffee Creamer.

Nightmare watched the skeleton's companion, a skeleton with black, red, and yellow bones, blue "tears" falling down his cheeks, and a painting covering his face, sit down. The skeleton in the smock had started a conversation with Creamer while he made coffees and packed up bakery items to go. Nightmare just continued taking orders, noticing that Creamer was just as efficient as before.

The only thing that caught his attention, though, was a couple sentences in the conversation.

"Creamer, I got a question: Where's Ccino? And who's the new guy?"

"Dad fell down the stairs this morning, so he's in the hospital right now."

@help-im-a-gay-fish

enjoy another part of your boi's story

I'm totally gonna start working on refs soon(hopefully)

First

Last

28 notes • Posted 2021-04-15 16:06:18 GMT

@calcium-cat here's the concept

Concept is based off of this and is also mixed with the idea of the one turning younger remembering nkthing that you wrote about a couple days ago

Swap!Dreamtale or swapped!fate verse is by xx-avj-xx

Essentially: Dream tries to heal his brother after accidentally hurting him. It ends up going wrong

Lemme know if I should write more cause this is just a basic concept, but pretty much anyone can continue it how they like

A Tiny Nightmare

Dream shook as he took in what was in front of him. He was going to kill Sci. Now, he didn't just have a brother with a cracked eye. He had a 5 year old brother that would be in a huge amount of pain when he woke up.

This wasn't good.

But, on the other hand... he could save his brother before the prophecy would take over. He could raise his brother to be more like him and less like the villan he was predicted as.

He smiled, then started to laugh. He could. He could fix it all before it began. He just had to make sure that Nightmare followed in Dream's footsteps, rather than anyone like Nightmare's old friends.

Dream's thoughts paused when he heard a small whimper and felt fear and pain. Oh. Oh, he forgot to try and numb Nightmare's eye. Quickly, he turned to the now waking Nightmare and tried his best to numb the pain with his magic. The 5-year-old quickly clung to Dream's hand, since his golden magic was warm and Nightmare was feeling cold. He tried his best at a soft smile.

"Hi, Sunshine."

"S-Sunshine...?" His voice was so quiet, "Is that m-my name...?"

"No, it isn't... you don't remember?"

"Remember wh-what...?"

"Anything..."

Dream's mouth pressed into a line when the child shook his head, then he came up with an idea.

"Well... your name is Alacrity."

"A-Alacrity...? What's that mean...?"

"Positivity. You're my little brother, after all, so you need to have a name like mine."

"So... wh-what's your name th-then...?"

"Dream."

"I-It's nice to meet y-you, Dream... even if... we've m-met before..."

28 notes • Posted 2021-06-23 19:29:44 GMT

I TOLD YOU I'D DO IT

@zu-is-here @help-im-a-gay-fish

33 notes • Posted 2021-03-06 01:01:38 GMT

IT'S TIME

THE DCTA

I AM CALLING IT A CTA BECAUSE IT IS A CREATE TO ADOPT

This is Alkudema, a they/them Inkmare shipchild

You may do anyyhing to adopt him from drawing to writing. Ship him with anyone, adjust his outfit, do whatever you like to enter, including changing name/gender to fit more, just make sure it's reblogging this post or tagging me in it! Please enjoy yourselves while doing this, don't force yourself to do it just because you want him! I will close this CTA on June 30th! Enjoy yourself and have fun.

39 notes • Posted 2021-06-02 16:25:10 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

2 notes · View notes

ichikaakiyama · 4 years ago

Text

FIC: Waylaid (Bakugo x Reader; smut)

DISCLAIMER: Usual ownership disclaimers apply. Characters that are underage/minors in canon are aged up in my work by default. TITLE: Waylaid PAIRING: Pro-hero!Katsuki Bakugo x non-hero!Reader (female) RATING: Hard R for smut WARNINGS: smut, swears, some name-calling

- - - -

Anytime you're in trouble, he always seems to be around. And anytime he's around, you always seem to be in trouble.

“We can’t keep meeting like this, little girl.”

He has you pinned against a cold wall in the far corner of some nondescript alley, one both of you know well; it’s on your route home from work everyday, and no matter how many times he’s told you to switch up your travel every now and again to deter any potential ne’er-do-wells, you’ve always liked the comfort and security of routine. Which gives him a perfect excuse for a bit of disruption every now and then.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were doing this on purpose,” he remarks, the smirk on his face evident in his low, dark tone, “Want something from me, do ya?”

His hands are starting to roam along practiced paths of their own across your body; you know what he’s looking for, and he knows where to find it. Your body responds before your brain really can, pushing slightly back against him, less in protest and more in offering.

“I can’t help it that you’re always there to get me out of trouble,” you say, his breath soft and warm on your nape.

You hear him snort, then feel his hips give enough of a grind against you for you to feel him. “Who said anything about getting you out of trouble, missy?” he retorts.

“I-” you start to reply, but the bite he lands on your shoulder genuinely catches you off guard, and whatever answer you have dissolves into a sharp gasp as he pushes you even more flush against the wall.

“I am trouble,” he whispers hoarsely into the shell of your ear, “But you already knew that.”

With one quick motion, he jerks and grabs until he’s flipped you around, your hands planted on the wall as he pulls your ass flush against his hardness as he grinds his hips against you. You let out a tiny whimper, and it elicits a singular gruff chuckle from him.

“Or maybe you’re trouble,” he laughs, “And since I’m the hero, guess that means I should do my job and...take care of trouble.”

His other hand slips beneath your blouse, closing around one breast and squeezing greedily. He continues to slow-grind against you, and you can’t help but push back against him and give him more of your body to use.

“You’re such a little brat,” he chuckles, low and deep in his throat, “Always acting like you’re so sweet and so innocent...but then I get you alone and you react like this…”

The fingers between your thighs press harder, almost as if he’s trying to punch a hole through your clothes and into you through sheer force.

“You’re not even the least bit sorry, are you, taking up my precious time like this?” he continues, his hands working harder, faster, drawing out lewd sounds from you that you’re trying your damnedest best to hold back, “I could be fighting villains, kicking someone’s ass, but instead I’m here with you, rock hard and needing to fuck your brains out. You proud of yourself, little girl?”

Abandoning all pretense of teasing, or perhaps giving in to his own impatience, his fingers push cloth aside until he has two fingers inside you, rubbing and curling slowly, making sure to reach every part of you he can that he knows is sensitive as hell. He has the audacity to laugh when a moan you couldn’t hold back escapes your lips.

"You're a greedy little bitch, huh? You want my cock that badly?” he taunts, fingers pressing and pushing harder as the hand in your blouse pulls until your breast is free of your bra, “You want me to just shove it in here, in this wet pussy, make you cry out for the entire street to hear how good you're getting fucked by the soon-to-be number one hero?”

His hand leaves your breast with one final pinch on your nipple, and then you hear him undoing buckles and zippers, all with one hand while the other stays busy in your cunt, scissoring just to give you that sting that's just this side of too much while not being enough at the same time. You think you’re begging breathlessly for...something, you’re not even sure what at this point, you just need. You just need. And he can tell.

"You're such a bratty little fuck. And you're so nasty,” he scoffs, but you know he doesn’t mean it, not really, “Getting this fucking wet. What if someone comes by, huh? You want someone to see you getting your dripping cunt stuffed? Bet you'd love to get caught, you freaky little bitch."

He pulls and pushes at your clothes just enough to gain what access he needs. He nudges your knees apart as far as they can go considering you still have clothes on. You can feel his hot, hard dick along the length of your entrance.

"Say it. Say you want me to fuck you."

You can't, at first, all you manage is a little whimper. So he slaps your ass hard, and the clap of it seems to bounce and echo around the alley just a little too loudly.

"Say. it."

The danger in his tone sends a pleasant chill down your spine to fuel the building fire in your belly. It’s more than enough to get you to comply and play his favorite little game.

"Fuck me, Katsuki. Please."

He lets out a little chuckle again. "Cute. But trouble doesn’t beg, trouble doesn’t get to. It just gets taken care of."

And he sheaths himself inside you in one slick motion that has you gasping and shuddering, almost trying to draw away from him for a split second, but he presses you into the wall, groaning low against the shell of your ear. Your fingers scramble for purchase along the ungiving concrete as he bottoms out with a hissed out “Fuck,” but things have only just begun. He pulls almost all the way out, only to thrust back in roughly again, nearly to the hilt, and you let out a full-bodied moan that has him growling behind clenched teeth.

"You want this? Huh, little girl?" He punctuates his question with another sharp thrust that startles a reply out of you.

“Yes. Yes.”

“So say it.”

“Please fuck me.”

He responds with another rough thrust that has you trying to dig your fingers into the wall for support.

“Say it again,” he demands, breath hot on your nape.

“Please, Katsuki, please fuck me.”

Another harsh shove, followed by a harsh grunt from somewhere deep in his stomach.

“Again.”

"Fuck me. Fuck me."

And you understand what he wants. Despite saying you don’t get to beg, he wants you to beg, and he answers your every plea with a snap of his hips, until you can barely keep up and he's pistoning into you, fingers deep in the flesh of your hips and ass. When your moaning starts to get louder, he claps a hand over your mouth and pulls you up against him, licking at the shell of your ear.

"Bounce that ass back on me,” he demands, breath short, voice gruff, “come on, little slut."

And you do, almost without thinking; You match his pace and cry out into the palm of his hand. He bucks up into you as you come down on his cock, all while he grunts and groans and moans right into your ear.

"This feels so fucking good,” he says, hands on either side of you as he pulls you back onto his erection, “Your pussy's so nice and wet for me, baby. I could ram you all day, fucking come inside you over and over. God, I fucking want that. Wanna feel you coming with my dick all the fucking way up inside you."

The way he spells it out makes your knees weak, and you lose your balance a little, falling forward onto the wall. He follows you, pressing himself against and into you even more. He pushes his cock all the way into you again and keeps it there until you’re mewling at the slight stretch and the deliciously odd feeling of being full. He laughs against your ear as he picks his pace back up, his moans nearly matching yours even as they come out more and more staccato and pitching slightly higher.

It doesn’t take much longer before you’re close to release, and you need it, you need to come, he can’t make you feel this good and not let you come. One of your hands drifts downwards, towards your clit, but he lets go of you long enough to bat it away.

"No,” he growls, and there’s that danger again that has you shuddering and arching back into him, “You're gonna come because I make you come, you understand? You're gonna come because of me."

You whimper in protest, but you’ve misunderstood what he means. He grabs you for a quick, hard kiss, then pushes two fingers past your lips. His eyes never leave your face as you lick them and suck them, and all the while his hips don’t stop moving; You’re sure some part of you will be scratched up and bleeding a little before he lets you go.

Before you can really enjoy the sensation of his fingers in your mouth, he pulls them out, and then his hand has replaced yours where he pushed it away, rubbing and prodding demandingly. The curse you let out is just a little too loud, and you swear you can hear a slight echo of it bounce off the walls around you.

"You wanna come, slut? You want me to make you come?” he asks tauntingly, and any reply you can give him only comes out as little wisps of breath, “How much more of my cock can you take? Or maybe i'll just come inside you and leave, and you'll have to wait for me to come home later to finish you off."

“No! Katsuki, please-” You plead desperately. It’s the type of thing he’d do. He’s done it before; He'd made you promise not to finish the job yourself, and though it had taken so much of your willpower, you'd managed it, and he'd rewarded you with two orgasms then, one with his mouth and one with his cock. You’re not sure you could manage that again, not when it’s this good and you’re this close, and you can tell he is too.

“Fuck it, i cant wait that long either,” he says with a slight chuckle, “Need you to come hard on me, you sexy little bitch.” He adjusts just a little, finding that perfect angle that has you crying out his name in a punched-out moan. “Come on. Come for me so I can come so fucking deep inside you, you won’t be walking right for days. Come on, baby girl, come on. Come, you little cockslut.”

It's a few more seconds before you do, and the little bastard moves his hand away from your mouth when you moan out your pleasure, but you can't stop it now. He wants to hear you come, and he's going to make everyone hear it too.

He whispers tiny little praises in your ear as he toys with your clit in an effort to prolong your orgasm to the point of painful oversensitivity. He doesn’t stop until your knees go weak and you try to pull his hand away.

You hear more than feel him come, because he muffles his sounds on your shoulder, his hips bucking staccato as the shocks of it run through him. His hands wander your body, squeezing your breasts over the top of your clothes and pulling and pushing at your ass cheeks before giving your butt another sharp slap.

“You nasty little cunt,” he chuckles as he pulls out of you and quickly pulls your underwear back into place, less threat and danger now and more affectionate, “That hot pussy of yours is gonna get me in trouble one of these days.”

“I'm surprised it hasn't yet,” you shoot back, pushing back against him just a little to tease him. You're rewarded with a quiet growl, a mix of lingering arousal and annoyance.

“You really oughta stay off of the streets or out of my way,” he says.

“That's not a very heroic thing to say.”

“Tch. Whatever.”

He rights himself wordlessly, and you do the same, but you can feel and hear the slight squelch between your legs, too telling of what's just happened here.

“I'm serious though,” he says, back turned to you, and he does sound serious, “Try to stay away from trouble. It's all fun and games when I’m around coz I can’t help but keep an eye on you, but one of these days, something might happen and I might not be around.”

“I'm sure I can take care of myself,” you reassure him, “Besides, I'm sure there are plenty of other heroes who could help take care of things.”

You practically hear the vein pop in his head. “The hell's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you giggle, “Well...see you home, I guess.”

You start to leave, but then he grabs your arm and pulls you back, and then he's kissing you honestly and earnestly and sincerely, in that very Bakugo way of his.

“I mean it,” he says “Stay out of trouble.”

And then he's gone again, off to be a hero, and you're standing there in the alleyway, flushed from the kiss more than the sex, and wondering what he might like for dinner later.

- - - -

END.

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo fic #bakugo smut #ichi fics #rating: hard r

104 notes · View notes

chocoluckchipz · 4 years ago

Text

The Other You - 15

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

Fresh from a shower, Marinette plopped on her bed face down and grunted, hiding her flaming face in a pillow.

What was wrong with her?

Why was she such an idiot and a weakling? Couldn’t she have said no to Adrien and his stupid lunch? Why on Earth did she think this was a good idea? Especially with her apparent inability to stay anywhere close to that man for more than five minutes at a time and not have her stupid crush rear its ugly head at the slightest sign of attention from his side.

Not fully her fault though because why the hell did Adrien have to be all kinds of perfect and so over the top extra? It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t natural. Men like him didn’t exist in the real world. It was some kind of witchcraft because how else could he have managed to make her feel so much at ease that by the end of that cursed lunch Marinette didn’t even notice as she let all remnants of her past hurt drift away? Witchcraft! Humanly impossible!

And Felix! That genius weirdo! She was going to kill him… after Fashion Week… for the crime of looking so incredibly much like Adrien. If he looked like anybody but his French cousin, Marinette would’ve never gotten used to seeing that face around herself and slowly lowered her guard around either of the men sharing the uncanny similarity. She would’ve stayed cautious around Adrien and would’ve never allowed him an opportunity to sneak back into her heart. She pursed her lips, grunting into her comforter. Was it too farfetched to assume that Adrien hired Felix specifically for that reason? Because his similar looks and flirty behaviour would slowly charm her into lowering her defences around Adrien? Preposterous but possible!

Her cell phone vibrated. Marinette grabbed it, pushing the thought away. Adrien didn’t deserve any more of her time for what he’d done to her today.

Alya: So, how did it go?

Ugh. Not Alya too. They hardly spoke about Adrien in recent weeks. Alya was avoiding the subject, probably thinking Marinette still hated him. Marinette didn’t want to bring him up because Adrien confused her. All of her assumptions, all of the beliefs she held about him were rapidly crumbling down and until Marinette got a hold of herself and her emotions, she preferred to avoid talking about him as well. The only reason Alya even knew about their lunch was because Marinette let information about the unexpected invitation slip in one of their calls. Like a true reporter, Alya couldn’t let her off the hook without learning the name of the person who invited her.

Marinette: How did what go? My day? Long and hard. Home now. About to start cooking.

Alya: Your date with Adrien, M. How did your unexpected date with your new boss/former enemy go?

Marinette scoffed. It wasn’t a date! She knew that for certain because Adrien made sure to correct their waiter when he’d voiced the same assumption about the pair’s relationship status. She couldn’t blame the waiter for assuming, though, because Adrien Freaking Agreste didn’t just pop into her office with his lunch box as she had assumed he would when he asked her that morning if she was free to talk about some business over lunch. Oh, no! He freaking dressed up and took her to an upscale cafe where he had reserved a freaking VIP lounge for them—per his words—‘to talk about work in privacy’, all while looking stupidly handsome and very smug about it. Of course, the waiter would assume it was a date. Which it wasn’t!

As for how it went?

Horribly wrong!

Disastrously so!

Cautious and wary at first, both of them slowly relaxed as the lunch went on, and soon enough not only they were laughing and joking around, but Marinette dared to say there were even a few moments where he flirted with her. Also, she was pretty sure Adrien had chosen his clothes strategically to show off that toned and lean body of his.

Marinette yelled into her pillow, banging her feet against her bed. Why couldn’t he have become bald or something? Or gain a few dozen extra pounds? Lose some teeth? Smell like a dump truck? Become a bully? Why did Adrien have to be so perfect? And why did he have to be such a gentleman and attentive and let everything she’d once loved about him shine through as he made her feel like the most beautiful and amazing woman in the room, all while they talked business and business alone? How did he manage that? How dare he still linger around her thoughts even now? And why did sharing a meal with him somehow feel so familiar and nice and warm and comforting and just wonderful despite all of her reservations and initial awkwardness?

It had to be some kind of magic. A spell, perhaps. Or a potion. Some sort of witchcraft or sorcery for sure. Hadn’t she sensed that he was a danger back at Gabriel’s office during their first encounter after so long? She should’ve stayed away. But nooo! She just had to go and naively fall for his tricks. Something Marinette wouldn’t admit to anyone. Not to Alya. Not to Adrien. Certainly not to herself. She typed furiously.

Marinette: It wasn’t a date. It was a business lunch and it was nothing special. We talked about work, specifically my collection and Fashion Week.

Alya: But, girl, you couldn’t stand even his name being mentioned a month ago. Now you’re going on a non-date lunch with him. What happened?

Marinette: He’s my boss, Alya. I can’t refuse his lunch invitation if I want my collection out for Fashion Week.

Alya: Girl, it’s Adrien. You can’t seriously think he’d do something like that. Don’t tell me you went through with this ONLY because you were afraid to lose your job?

Marinette stared at the message in hesitation. Nibbling on her lip, she closed her eyes and flipped on her back with a sigh. She could’ve said there was only fear behind her motivation, but the truth was—there was none at all. Not after Adrien’s apology. Not after she’d learned his side of the story. Not after she’d had a chance to think it over, analyze her life, and see where working at Gabriel had really led her. Not after she’d admitted, if only to herself, that maybe Adrien was right after all.

He had always been nothing but a loyal friend to her before that incident. If not for her nursing a fresh heartbreak at the time and him daring to compromise one of her biggest dreams, Marinette would’ve surely given him the benefit of the doubt. But it was horrible timing. They both were vulnerable. He had made a mistake. She had reacted in the worst way possible.

Time had passed, though. They both had learned their lesson. He apologized and had done so sincerely. And maybe it was some kind of magic, or maybe Marinette just had a weakness for him, but as Adrien was inviting her to that business lunch she couldn’t find it in her to refuse despite her initial hesitation. Perhaps she was curious to learn more about this new, more mature Adrien. He had been slipping into her thoughts more frequently these days. Maybe she wanted to see if that friendship Adrien was so eagerly hinting at rekindling was even possible. Or maybe she just wanted to have lunch with someone other than Felix and his wacky character for once. However genius her assistant was, being around him all day only made Marinette crave, even if secretly, the softer, more genuine, and definitely more stable personality of his cousin. Whatever it was, it wasn’t fear that got Marinette to agree to Adrien’s invitation.

Marinette: Well, not just because of that. We did talk about the past and he apologized for his actions, and since we’re stuck working together for the next while and he’s been helping me out with my collection, I thought maybe I could try to be a little friendlier with him.

She could see the three dots appearing and disappearing as Alya typed for a while only for a short question to appear.

Alya: Then PURELY HYPOTHETICALLY—do you think it’s possible for you two to be friends again? Sometime in the future at least?

Marinette chuckled. Adrien had mentioned he was going to see Nino for lunch in a few days and that he hoped the second time around it would go better. She wasn’t surprised at all. In a way, Marinette had expected it to happen because cutting all contact with Adrien was just as hard for Nino as it was for her. Having found out the truth now, Marinette was certain that Nino was itching to rekindle his friendship with Adrien. Under any other circumstances, Marinette might have taken that as a betrayal, but not now. Not when she knew the truth as well, and certainly not after she had gone to lunch with Adrien herself and still blushed at the memory of him kissing her hand as he dropped her off at her studio afterwards.

Marinette: Is this about Nino and Adrien trying to salvage their friendship and me being mad at Nino about that?

She hit Send and glanced at the clock. Eight already. Time to get back to the kitchen and finish cooking before Chat Noir showed up. Speaking of the devil… Chat Noir was as much at fault here as everyone else… if not more! Because while there was an unspoken agreement to hold off with a romantic relationship until better times between them, couldn’t he be more insistent or reckless when it came to Ladybug? Couldn’t he take her in his arms and proclaim his eternal love for her? Couldn’t he tell her he didn’t know how to live without her? Shower her with presents and attention? She’d probably be pissed at him for doing so, but at least she wouldn’t be so attention-starved right now to react to Adrien the way she did. Because that was all it was—a natural yearning for someone to notice her, for someone to look at her like she was their world, for someone to gently kiss her hand and open a door for her like a true gentleman that was so rare these days. She just wanted someone to love her the way she was, knowing all her faults and quirks, and not care the slightest about it.

Was that too much to ask of him?

Grunting, Marinette stomped to the kitchen, ignoring her beeping cell phone until all the remaining ingredients for their meal were out and she’d checked the stewing beef. One more beep reminded her of Alya on the line just before she started cutting the vegetables.

Alya: Maybe?

Alya: Yes. OTL

Alya: I’m sorry, M, but neither Nino nor I knew how to tell you and we do realize that Adrien hurt you and maybe we’re being bad friends here, but you know Nino. He wouldn’t sleep if he thinks he didn’t treat someone fairly and in this case, we kind of did just that. He’s dead set on making it right with Adrien. They’re having one more lunch this Saturday and he’s planning to do whatever it takes for it to go better than the last one.

Alya: Marinette? Say something cause I’m freaking out over here.

Alya: Anything?

Alya: You’re pissed at me, aren’t you?

Alya: You know I love you more than anyone else, right? I’d do anything for you.

Alya: Even break up with Nino. Do you want me to? Because, girl, I’ll do that for you and he can marry Adrien for all I care.

Alya: Ugh! Don’t tell him I said that because he might actually dump me for Adrien. The guy grew up really nice.

Alya: I shouldn’t have said that…

Alya: UGH! The man is ugly! He’s hideous! Just look at his Apollo-like looks! So nineteenth century! Old fashioned! Outdated! Nino would NEVER dump me for him, right?

Alya: Nino looks way better btw. Just so you know!

Marinette laughed. Who said she was the overdramatic one in their duo? Alya could easily give her and Chat Noir a run for their money in that department.

Marinette: Sorry, got distracted by cooking.

Marinette: Also, I wouldn’t be so sure about Nino not dumping you for Adrien. They used to be attached at the hip and now he’s feeling all guilty and sad and wants to fix everything. What if Adrien demands marriage?

Alya: Don’t even joke about that. I already invested too much in that man and I’m not giving him up to some CEO of a fashion empire. He can go jump off a cliff. I’ll fight for my man until my last breath.

Marinette: And here I thought you were ready to dump him for me.

Alya: …

Alya: True.

Alya: OTL You’re making it HARD, girl.

Marinette: When did I make it easy for you?

Alya: T_T Why am I still in this relationship?

Marinette: Because you love me more than anyone in this world apart from Nino?

Alya: Can’t blame me for that. Have you seen the man?

Marinette: LOL No blame here. You two are cute.

Alya: :thumbs-up:

Alya: Seriously, though, what do you think about the whole Adrien/Nino thing?

Marinette: I’m fine with it. I don’t think I’ll be plunging in there myself anytime soon but I don’t see why Nino shouldn’t.

Alya: Are you sure?

Marinette: Yes, I’m sure. I’m a grown-ass woman, Alya. I can be civil.

Alya: Okay. If you say so, but if you ever feel uncomfortable, let me know. We’ll figure out something.

Marinette: Will do. Have to go now. My meat is going to burn if I don’t give it my undivided attention.

Alya: See U later, girl.

Quickly firing off her farewell, Marinette got to her cooking, stirring, cutting, seasoning, and tasting. Trying to push thoughts of Adrien out of her mind because, as nice as being noticed felt, she couldn’t get any closer to him. She wasn’t a fool or a teenager anymore. Marinette knew exactly what was going on, fully realized what she was feeling.

She didn’t like it.

She spent years despising even the name of Adrien Agreste, someone who, even if unintentionally, was the cause of the biggest hurt she’d ever experienced. She spent the same amount of time being in love with Chat Noir, her loyal partner and the most important person in her life. How could she allow her old crush on Adrien surface at all, least of all so quickly after he’d reappeared in her life? It wasn’t fair.

Not to her.

Not to Chat Noir.

Especially not to Chat Noir, who had waited years for her. Marinette couldn’t fall in love with her former enemy just when a romantic relationship with Chat Noir had finally become a possibility.

She had to do something.

“Knock, knock,” Chat Noir called from the living room. “Are there any princesses in this tower? A handsome knight has come to entertain them with his awesomeness in exchange for a slice of bread.”

“In the kitchen,” Marinette shouted.

“That smells delicious,” Chat appeared behind her, peeking above her shoulder at the pot. “What are we cooking, Princess?”

Marinette couldn’t hide a smile. Princess. His old nickname for her had resurfaced recently. She missed it more than she had realized. She loved it way more than she would ever admit. “Boeuf Bourguignon.”

Chat inhaled the aroma with the most reverent expression on his face. “You’re spoiling this cat rotten.”

“I’m only paying my rent, Chat. Nice meals for a nice apartment. ‘An equal exchange’. Isn’t that how it goes?”

“I see you finally watched one of my recommendations?”

“I didn’t have time for that yet, but you’ve been quoting it so much, it was impossible for me not to remember.”

“See? I’m a good influence on you.” He grinned. “Need help?”

“Bread, if you don’t mind.”

“When have I ever?” he replied, washing his hands. “I like helping you. You make it seem so easy. I might even pick up a thing or two and not send myself to a hospital next time I try to cook by myself.”

“Maybe I should teach you then.”

“Maybe you should.”

Marinette smiled, putting the finishing touches on their dishes. “Then maybe I will.”

“I’d be forever grateful,” he practically purred, finishing slicing the bread. “How was your day? Anything fun or interesting I should be aware of?”

Marinette stilled, but composed herself a moment later. Avoid mentioning Adrien at all costs. Talk about anything but him. “Felix had a short day. He ditched me before lunch and never came back.”

“Rude. He should be punished.”

“I can’t punish him. He’s doing more work than I do, and he’s my boss’ relative, and he’s the reason you're about to eat a dish that took me almost three hours to prepare, so don’t complain. You should be thanking him instead.”

Chat let out a puff, bringing a bowl filled with bread to the dining table. “What for? Being a weirdo? He’s there to help you with your work, not make you uncomfortable. So despite all of your objections, I still maintain that if he won’t scale back on his antics, you should kick his butt to the curb.”

“Actually, he’s been getting very good at respecting my boundaries lately,” Marinette confessed as she set their meals down. “And even when he doesn’t… How to explain? The way he does all of his weird things… he’s so sincere and polite about it that it’s kind of endearing in a way.”

Chat’s eyebrows knitted into a frown. “So, you like it now?”

“More like I don’t mind it so much now.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Alright. Then, I guess it’s fine?”

Marinette smiled. “Yes. It’s fine. Weird, but fine. Now, let’s eat. Boeuf Bourguignon is most delicious when it’s still steaming.”

Chat grinned, plopped on a chair and focused his gaze on the bowl in front of him. His eyes sparkled and he grabbed his fork excitedly. “Yes, ma’am! Itadakimasu!”

Marinette chuckled, sitting down as well. “Itadakimasu,” she echoed, starting on her meal. “How was your day?”

“I had lunch with an amazing person,” Chat said, his mouth full. “An old friend of mine, but we’d lost contact for a few years, so I thought lunch would be a good place to catch up. Was very nice to see she’s just as awesome as I remember her.”

She?

Marinette’s chest tightened. Her Chaton was having lunch with a girl whom he considered to be awesome and amazing while avoiding Ladybug at the same time? Yes, avoiding. There was no other explanation for what was going on in their superhero life at that moment.

Ever since Ladybug had returned to her duties, she hadn’t seen much of Chat Noir. The few times she managed to spot him, he acted skittish and distant and eager to escape as fast as he could. To her inquiry on his absences, he answered that he was making his patrols but headed home right after because of the late hours and early mornings he had. Ladybug believed him. She had no reason not to trust Chat. She thought that he was probably still mourning for his relative, and showing it only to Ladybug because only Ladybug knew about that aspect of his life.

Now, however, Marinette wasn’t so sure anymore. Her heart clenched, breathing quickening, as thoughts of Chat’s date attacked her very core. Was he avoiding his partner because he didn’t love her anymore? Or was he avoiding her because he felt guilty for being attracted to someone else, just as she found herself moping over being attracted to Adrien?

She composed herself and asked. “Is that so? Someone with potential?”

“Potential? Potential for what?” Chat blinked at her, stuffing a piece of bread in his mouth.

“Potential for a romantic relationship,” Marinette explained. “Someone you would be interested in dating?”

“Dating?” Chat frowned, letting a moment slowly drift by before he shook his head. “No. She’s just a friend. You know I love Ladybug, Marinette. Why would you ask such a question?”

She let a breath out, closing her eyes for a moment. Unnecessary panic. She hadn’t lost him yet. Though, she might need to do something about it sooner rather than later because Chat Noir had been waiting for her for an absurdly long time already. And now he suddenly started to talk about an amazing, awesome person in his life. Who could guarantee that he’d be willing to wait for her much longer instead of falling in love with whoever-she-was instead?

Marinette looked back at him, childishly enjoying his meal while telling her all about his day and this amazing friend of his. She loved him. She really did. And she was holding off on him only because her life was a mess. It wasn’t anymore, though. It had gotten so much better in these last few months. Why should she continue to hold back and risk losing him?

She shouldn’t.

Her eyes widened.

That would solve all of her problems. If she were to date Chat Noir, Marinette would receive all the attention she craved from him and wouldn’t be attracted to other men. She’d give Chat all of her love and there would be none left for someone else. Adrien wouldn’t be able to make her heart stutter just by smiling at her or make her blush with an innocent wink. Chat deserved that. Plus, after years of loyally loving her, Chat Noir had more rights than anyone else to have her love and devotion.

Marinette let a smile tug at the corner of her lips. It really was the perfect solution. She’d only have to be careful going about it, considering the way Chat was acting around Ladybug lately. Something was wrong. She could feel it. She knew her Chaton and for him to avoid Ladybug, something had to be horribly wrong.

Marinette took a sip of water, observing her partner. A moment later, it all came together, just like one of her lucky charms she hadn’t used in a while.

“Say Chat,” she started carefully as soon as he’d stopped talking. “We’re friends, right?”

He grinned. “Of course, we are.”

“And as my friend, you’d tell me if there was something bothering you or you were in trouble, wouldn’t you?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Yes. Why?”

Marinette sighed. “You know how my best friend runs the Ladyblog?”

“Alya Césaire?”

“Yes. Alya. She shared a concern with me a few days ago, and I wanted to ask you about it, but it could possibly be a very private issue.”

He shrugged. “Ask away. I’m fine with you asking me anything except my identity.”

“Why have you been avoiding Ladybug?”

Chat stared at her in shock, his cat ears slowly falling down against his hair. “I… Why would you think I’m avoiding Ladybug?”

“That’s just what Alya concluded based on your reported activity and sightings. When Ladybug was absent for a little over a week, you patrolled every night. But when she returned, you’ve been scarcely seen… and last week, you didn’t patrol at all.”

He looked away, whispering. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Marinette stood up and, walking over to him, crouched by his side and laid her hand on top of his. “Chat, whatever it is, don’t you think it’ll be easier if you share it with someone? Anything is easier to carry with a friend. I should know that by now.”

His eyes filled with worry and sadness. He watched her for a full minute before whispering, “Not if that ‘something’ might cause me to lose her.”

She squeezed his hand in a reassuring gesture. “You’ll never lose her, Chat. You’ve been partners for so long. Probably went through a lot together. You’re two halves of a whole. You’ll never lose her. She loves you. She’ll understand whatever it is.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You’ll lose her faster if you keep avoiding her,” Marinette added. “Don’t you think she’s noticed? Can you even imagine what’s going through her head as she’s trying to figure out why her partner suddenly doesn’t want to see her anymore?”

His eyes wide, he stared at Marinette. “I… I didn’t think about it that way.”

“You don’t have to tell her details, but you have to talk to her and figure this out, or you risk losing her trust and that is the most difficult thing to fix… if it’s possible at all.”

He bowed his head, gripping his hair with his hands. “You don’t understand, Marinette. It’s something big. Really big! I… I wouldn’t even know how to start. I mean how do you tell your partner that the enemy you fought together for ten years was your father!”

Her eyes bulging, Marinette froze, goosebumps running down her skin.

Chat abruptly stopped speaking, staring at her in horror. “No! I—didn’t mean… That’s not what I meant. Hawkmoth—he isn’t—” Chat dropped his head back into his hands and groaned. “Please, don’t hate me. I didn’t know until a few weeks ago.”

Her heart racing, Marinette watched him in shock. His father? Hawkmoth was Chat Noir’s father?

“Your father?” she echoed as if in a trance.

“Was,” Chat whispered into his hands. “He passed away recently.”

Marinette flinched but shook the thought away. “Passed? You didn’t…”

Chat shook his head. “Stroke. I found out about him being Hawkmoth only after he’d been dead for a while.”

Marinette swallowed, unable to stop staring at him. How awful that must have been to discover. She couldn’t even imagine how she’d feel, what she’d do if her father ended up being Hawkmoth. If any of her relatives or friends were to be revealed as the villain who’d terrorized the city for years. No wonder Chat had been acting so strange around Ladybug. He must have felt terrible. Really, how could he tell Ladybug something like that?

Lost for words, Marinette did the only thing she could think of—she pulled him closer and wrapped her partner in a tight embrace, whispering in the crook of his neck, “I’m so sorry.”

His breathing hitched, Chat tensed at the contact, but when she tugged him even closer, he gave in and wrapped his arms around Marinette, clinging to her as if she were his lifeline.

“I should’ve known.” His voice trembled. “He was a horrible human being.”

“Still, that must have been awful to discover.”

Chat barely breathed. “Devastating.”

They stayed in each other's arms for a few minutes, silently taking comfort in one another. His breathing, ragged and erratic at first, normalized as Chat slowly relaxed. When his grip on her eased, Marinette hesitantly pulled away to take his face in her hands. He still held her in his arms, searching her face for something, looking for the answer to a question. An answer he dreaded receiving.

“You’re not your father,” Marinette said, looking at him. “Neither he nor his actions, define who you are.”

Chat let out a sigh of relief, his eyes closing with it. “Thank you.”

“And you need to tell Ladybug. She knows you. She will understand and help you get through this.”

His eyes still closed, Chat shook his head. “Not yet. I’m not ready yet.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be ready, Chat. I don’t think anyone can ever be ready to disclose something like that, but tell me, do you trust her? Do you trust Ladybug?”

“With my life,” he whispered.

“Then tell her. Tell her everything. Tell her about your father. Tell her you love her. Everything. If you truly trust her, you know she’ll understand and won’t judge you. She’d want you to tell her so she can help you get through this. Am I wrong?”

His gaze falling to the ground, Chat thought for a few moments before looking back at Marinette. “You’re probably right. I should tell her.”

“You should.”

“And I will.”

“Tonight.”

“Tonig—What? Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight,” Marinette nodded. “Don’t delay any longer. The longer you put this off, the harder it’ll be to do. So, just go out there and tell her.”

He blinked a few times, staring at her, then let a smile sneak onto his lips. “Okay. I will. Tonight. I’ll tell her everything.”

Marinette gave him a smile and pulled him back into a hug. Her poor Chaton. He’d been through a lot. His problems were so much bigger than hers, and she’d been too wrapped up in her own mess to notice that he’d been slowly falling apart. No more. She wouldn’t allow that. Marinette would put her partner first for once and she would give him all the love he deserved.

Tonight.

Next >

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #adrienette #ML #chat noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #the other you

28 notes · View notes

backgroundagent3 · 4 years ago

Note

B A R N E S

(Not sure how you do this lol but for the spell a characters name ask game)

Halie_x_

Thank you so much for the ask! I do it using this list, where every letter of a character's name corresponds to a question.

Spell a character's name in my askbox and I'll tell you my headcanons...

B: Do they have any allergies?

Nope. When he was made a super soldier, Hydra made sure to somehow make him immune to any disease illness or allergy, so that he would be invincible.

A: What are/were this character's best subjects in school?

Bucky was great at English and Physical Education.

R: What are their hands like?

One of them is metallic and very strong, and sometimes a little heavy. The other one has lots of cuts and bruises in it from practicing knife flipping.

N: What do they usually eat for breakfast?

During the war, one of the few available things for breakfast was oatmeal, so now he eats anything but that, and he tries to make his breakfasts as varied as possible.

E: How are they with children?

Before enlisting, Bucky didn't really like kids that much, but now he feels very comfortable in the presence of babies and young children, because they don't judge him and they help him stay calm.

S: How stealthy are they?

Very stealthy. Lots of his missions required quiet or undercover work, so he had to be.

#ask away #bucky barnes #winter soldier #mcu #headcanons #15001700tt #background agent 3

9 notes · View notes

boreothegoldfinch · 3 years ago

Text

chapter 5 paragraph x

Of my classes, English was the only one I looked forward to, yet I was disturbed by how many of my classmates disliked Thoreau, railed against him even, as if he (who claimed never to have learned anything of value from an old person) was an enemy and not a friend. His scorn of commerce—invigorating to me —nettled a lot of the more vocal kids in Honors English. “Yeah, right,” shouted an obnoxious boy whose hair was gelled and combed stiff like a Dragon Ball Z character—“some kind of world it would be if everybody just dropped out and moped around in the woods—” “Me, me, me,” whined a voice in the back. “It’s antisocial,” a loudmouth girl interjected eagerly over the laughter that followed this—shifting in her seat, turning back to the teacher (a limp, long-boned woman named Mrs. Spear, who always wore brown sandals and earthtone colors, and looked as if she was suffering from major depression). “Thoreau is always just sitting around on his can telling us how good he has it —” “—Because,” said the Dragon Ball Z boy—his voice rising gleefully, “if everybody dropped out, like he’s saying to do? What kind of community would we have, if it was just people like him? We wouldn’t have hospitals and stuff. We wouldn’t have roads.” “Twat,” mumbled a welcome voice—just loud enough for everybody around to hear. I turned to see who had said this: the burnout-looking boy across the aisle, slouched and drumming his desk with his fingers. When he saw me looking at him, he raised a surprisingly lively eyebrow, as if to say: can you believe these fucking idiots? “Did someone have something to say back there?” said Mrs. Spear. “Like Thoreau gave a toss about roads,” said the burnout boy. His accent took me by surprise: foreign, I couldn’t place it. “Thoreau was the first environmentalist,” said Mrs. Spear. “He was also the first vegetarian,” said a girl in back. “Figures,” said someone else. “Mr. Crunchy-chewy.” “You’re all totally missing my point,” the Dragon Ball Z boy said excitedly. “Somebody has to build roads and not just sit in the woods looking at ants and mosquitoes all day. It’s called civilization.” My neighbor let out a sharp, contemptuous bark of a laugh. He was pale and thin, not very clean, with lank dark hair falling in his eyes and the unwholesome wanness of a runaway, callused hands and black-circled nails chewed to the nub—not like the shiny-haired, ski-tanned skate rats from my school on the Upper West Side, punks whose dads were CEOs and Park Avenue surgeons, but a kid who might conceivably be sitting on a sidewalk somewhere with a stray dog on a rope. “Well, to address some of these questions? I’d like for everybody to turn back to page fifteen,” Mrs. Spear said. “Where Thoreau is talking about his experiment in living.” “Experiment how?” said Dragon Ball Z. “Why is living in the woods like he does any different from a caveman?” The dark-haired boy scowled and sank deeper in his seat. He reminded me of the homeless-looking kids who stood around passing cigarettes back and forth on St. Mark’s Place, comparing scars, begging for change—same torn-up clothes and scrawny white arms; same black leather bracelets tangled at the wrists. Their multi-layered complexity was a sign I couldn’t read, though the general import was clear enough: different tribe, forget about it, I’m way too cool for you, don’t even try to talk to me. Such was my mistaken first impression of the only friend I made when I was in Vegas, and—as it turned out—one of the great friends of my life. His name was Boris. Somehow we found ourselves standing together in the crowd that was waiting for the bus after school that day.

“Hah. Harry Potter,” he said, as he looked me over. “Fuck you,” I said listlessly. It was not the first time, in Vegas, I’d heard the Harry Potter comment. My New York clothes—khakis, white oxford shirts, the tortoiseshell glasses which I unfortunately needed to see—made me look like a freak at a school where most people dressed in tank tops and flip flops. “Where’s your broomstick?” “Left it at Hogwarts,” I said. “What about you? Where's your board?” “Eh?” he said, leaning in to me and cupping his hand behind his ear with an old-mannish, deaf-looking gesture. He was half a head taller than me; along with jungle boots and bizarre old fatigues with the knees busted out, he was wearing a ratted-up black T-shirt with a snowboarding logo, Never Summer in white gothic letters. “Your shirt,” I said, with a curt nod. “Not much boarding in the desert.” “Nyah,” said Boris, pushing the stringy dark hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know how to snowboard. I just hate the sun.” We ended up together on the bus, in the seat closest to the door—clearly an unpopular place to sit, judging from the urgent way other kids muscled and pushed to the rear, but I hadn’t grown up riding a school bus and apparently neither had he, as he too seemed to think it only natural to fling himself down in the first empty seat up front. For a while we didn’t say much, but it was a long ride and eventually we got talking. It turned out that he lived in Canyon Shadows too—but farther out, the end that was getting reclaimed by the desert, where a lot of the houses weren’t finished and sand stood in the streets. “How long have you been here?” I asked him. It was the question all the kids asked each other at my new school, like we were doing jail time. “Dunno. Two months maybe?” Though he spoke English fluently enough, with a strong Australian accent, there was also a dark, slurry undercurrent of something else: a whiff of Count Dracula, or maybe it was KGB agent. “Where are you from?” “New York,” I said—and was gratified at his silent double-take, his lowered eyebrows that said: very cool. “What about you?” He pulled a face. “Well, let’s see,” he said, slumping back in his seat and counting off the countries on his fingers. “I’ve lived in Russia, Scotland which was maybe cool but I don’t remember it, Australia, Poland, New Zealand, Texas for two months, Alaska, New Guinea, Canada, Saudi Arabia, Sweden, Ukraine—” “Jesus Christ.” He shrugged. “Mostly Australia, Russia, and Ukraine, though. Those three places.” “Do you speak Russian?” He made a gesture that I took to mean more or less. “Ukrainian too, and Polish. Though I’ve forgotten a lot. The other day, I tried to remember what was the word for ‘dragonfly’ and couldn’t.” “Say something.” He obliged, something spitty and guttural. “What does that mean?” He chortled. “It means ‘Fuck you up the ass.’ ” “Yeah? In Russian?” He laughed, exposing grayish and very un-American teeth. “Ukrainian.” “I thought they spoke Russian in the Ukraine.” “Well, yes. Depends what part of Ukraine. They’re not so different languages, the two. Well—” click of the tongue, eye roll—“not so very much. Numbers are different, days of the week, some vocabulary. My name is spelled different in Ukrainian but in North America it’s easier to use Russian spelling and be Boris, not B-o-r-y-s. In the West everybody knows Boris Yeltsin…” he ticked his head to one side—“Boris Becker—” “Boris Badenov—” “Eh?” he said sharply, turning as if I’d insulted him. “Bullwinkle? Boris and Natasha?” “Oh, yes. Prince Boris! War and Peace. I’m named like him. Although the surname of Prince Boris is Drubetskóy, not what you said.”

“So what’s your first language? Ukrainian?” He shrugged. “Polish maybe,” he said, falling back in his seat, slinging his dark hair to one side with a flip of his head. His eyes were hard and humorous, very black. “My mother was Polish, from Rzeszów near the Ukrainian border. Russian, Ukrainian—Ukraine as you know was satellite of USSR, so I speak both. Maybe not Russian quite so much—it’s best for swearing and cursing. With Slavic languages—Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, even Czech—if you know one, you sort of get drift in all. But for me, English is easiest now. Used to be the other way around.” “What do you think about America?” “Everyone always smiles so big! Well—most people. Maybe not so much you. I think it looks stupid.” He was, like me, an only child. His father (born in Siberia, a Ukrainian national from Novoagansk) was in mining and exploration. “Big important job—he travels the world.” Boris’s mother—his father’s second wife—was dead. “Mine too,” I said. He shrugged. “She’s been dead for donkey’s years,” he said. “She was an alkie. She was drunk one night and she fell out a window and died.” “Wow,” I said, a bit stunned by how lightly he’d tossed this off. “Yah, it sucks,” he said carelessly, looking out the window. “So what nationality are you?” I said, after a brief silence. “Eh—?” “Well, if your mother’s Polish, and your dad’s Ukrainian, and you were born in Australia, that would make you—” “Indonesian,” he said, with a sinister smile. He had dark, devilish, very expressive eyebrows that moved around a lot when he spoke. “How’s that?” “Well, my passport says Ukraine. And I have part citizenship in Poland too. But Indonesia is the place I want to get back to,” said Boris, tossing the hair out of his eyes. “Well—PNG.” “What?” “Papua, New Guinea. It’s my favorite place I’ve lived.” “New Guinea? I thought they had headhunters. “Not any more. Or not so many. This bracelet is from there,” he said, pointing to one of the many black leather strands on his wrist. “My friend Bami made it for me. He was our cook.” “What’s it like?” “Not so bad,” he said, glancing at me sideways in his brooding, self-amused way. “I had a parrot. And a pet goose. And, was learning to surf. But then, six months ago, my dad hauled me with him to this shaddy town in Alaska. Seward Peninsula, just below Arctic Circle? And then, middle of May —we flew to Fairbanks on a prop plane, and then we came here.” “Wow,” I said. “Dead boring up there,” said Boris. “Heaps of dead fish, and bad Internet connection. I should have run away—I wish I had,” he said bitterly. “And done what?” “Stayed in New Guinea. Lived on the beach. Thank God anyway we weren’t there all winter. Few years ago, we were up north in Canada, in Alberta, this one-street town off the Pouce Coupe River? Dark the whole time, October to March, and fuck-all to do except read and listen to CBC radio. Had to drive fifty klicks to do our washing. Still—” he laughed —“loads better than Ukraine. Miami Beach, compared.” “What does your dad do again?” “Drink, mainly,” said Boris sourly. “He should meet my dad, then.” Again the sudden, explosive laugh—almost like he was spitting over you. “Yes. Brilliant. And whores?” “Wouldn’t be surprised,” I said, after a small, startled pause. Though not too much my dad did shocked me, I had never quite envisioned him hanging out in the Live Girls and Gentlemen’s Club joints we sometimes passed on the highway. The bus was emptying out; we were only a few streets from my house. “Hey, this is my stop up here,” I said. “Want to come home with me and watch television?” said Boris. “Well—” “Oh, come on. No one’s there. And I’ve got S.O.S. Iceberg on DVD.”

2 notes · View notes

arrantsnowdrop · 5 years ago

Text

On the Front Line - Bucky Barnes x reader (fluff)

Summary: Reader is an SSR agent working with Peggy and Colonel Phillips in Europe when the 107th is captured by HYDRA, and they're not exactly thrilled by the situation.

Warnings: mentions of violence/death, swearing, 1,967 words

A/N: Haven't written for Marvel before but the Captain America movies are all I've watched this past week and my age-old love for James Buchanan Barnes has resurfaced quite prominently. Fanfic is my coping mechanism, what can I say :/ I think I'll open requests up for at least the Cap trilogy characters (Steve, Sam, Bucky, maybe some more idk) because they're fun dudes, ya know? Hope you enjoy! :)

..........

“You mean to tell me you’re not planning a rescue mission?” you said bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at the man sitting across from you.

Colonel Phillips sighed and nodded, not looking up from the papers he was signing.

“With all due respect sir, I think that’s stupid,” you huffed. The colonel rolled his eyes.

“Well then what would you suggest I do, agent?” he asked sarcastically. “We don’t have the men or the resources to push behind enemy lines right now.”

“We could at least try to push the enemy back, that way a rescue team would have less ground to cover before reaching the base,” you argued. Phillips shook his head.

“We’re not going to waste half our ammunition on a stunt like that,” he said dryly.

“It would give us a chance-”

“HYDRA would still kill or kidnap everyone on that rescue team, just in less time,” he retorted, exhaustion evident in his voice.

Your eyes drifted to the map that hung behind him, frowning at the triangular symbol marking the location of the HYDRA base where the men of the 107th Infantry were being held captive.

“(Y/n), you know I don’t want to let those men die there,” Phillips added mournfully, “but a rescue mission just isn’t feasible.” You bit your lip and nodded, looking down at your lap.

“I understand, sir,” you mumbled.

The SSR had transferred you to Colonel Phillip’s staff only a week before the 107th had been captured. You did not know them well, but you still felt guilty knowing there was nothing you could do to help them. You couldn’t fathom how hopeless you’d feel if you’d been taken hostage and knew no one was trying to save you.

“Colonel Phillips,” came an unfamiliar voice from behind you. You turned around, brows furrowing at the sight of the tall blond man known as “Captain America” stalking towards you, Agent Carter close behind him.

“Well, if it isn’t the ‘Star-Spangled Man With A Plan,’ what is your plan today?” Phillips asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“I need the casualty list from Azzano,” the blonde said intently.

“You don’t get to give me orders, son,” Colonel Phillips replied dryly.

“I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.”

The Colonel rolled his eyes and began flipping through a stack of papers on his desk. You looked up at the newcomer and gave him a small smile.

“Agent (Y/n) (L/n),” you said, sticking out your hand for him to shake. He reached out and grasped it firmly.

“Steve Rogers,” he said, nodding once and looking back up at Colonel Phillips.

“You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy,” Phillips grumbled, pointing his pen at Peggy.

“Please tell me if he’s alive, sir. B-A-R-”

“I can spell,” Phillips interrupted, standing up. “I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count, but the name does sound familiar.” He turned around, facing the three of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said genuinely.

“What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?” Steve asked urgently.

“He is not,” you stated, glaring at the Colonel.

“I thought you were going to try to convince him to plan a rescue, (Y/n),” Peggy asked. You groaned and turned around in your seat to face her.

“I did try,” you said exasperatedly. “Clearly it didn’t work so well.”

“But if you know where they are, why not at least-” Steve started, but Phillips cut him off once again.

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines, through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe,” Phillips explained. “We’d lose more men than we’d save, but I don’t expect you to understand that, because you're a chorus girl.” You glared at Phillips sternly.

“You don’t need to be so rude,” you said, pushing yourself out of your chair and stalking away.

“(Y/n)!” Phillips called, but you shook your head and kept walking.

You respected the colonel a great deal, but you weren’t going to stand by while he made fun of well-meaning people. Poor Steve just wanted to save his friend, and that was nothing to ridicule.

Though you hated to admit it, Phillips was right. Just making it past enemy lines would be hard enough, let alone thirty miles beyond that.

“(Y/n)!”

You whipped around, squinting at Peggy and Steve as they sped towards you.

“What do you two want?” you asked suspiciously.

“I’m going to get Howard to fly Steve into Azzano,” Peggy whispered quickly, eyes darting left and right to make sure no one was listening. Your eyes widened in surprise.

“Wow, ok,” you managed, shocked that the Agent Peggy Carter was willingly disobeying Colonel Phillips’ orders.

“We need someone to distract Phillips for a few hours,” she continued. You looked up at Steve.

“You’re gonna save those men?” you asked.

“I’m going to try,” he said with a determined nod. You grinned and glanced at Peggy.

“Of course I’ll help you,” you said. “Distraction is my middle name.”

~~~~~

“Senator Brandt, I regret to report that Captain Steven G. Rogers went missing behind enemy lines on the third,” Colonel Phillips articulated, pacing slowly around the tent.

“Aerial reconnaissance has proven unfruitful. As a result, I must declare Captain Rogers killed in action. Period.”

You sighed, standing up from your seat next to the young Corporal who’d been typing down Phillips’ words.

“The last surveillance flight is back,” Peggy said as she walked in. “No sign of activity.”

“Go get a cup of coffee, Corporal,” Phillips said, the younger man nodding quickly and scurrying away. You smirked, always finding it amusing how wary Colonel Phillips’ men were of their commanding officer.

“I can’t touch Stark, he’s rich and he’s the Army’s number one weapons contractor,” Colonel Phillips said sternly. “You both are neither one.”

“With respect, sir,” Peggy started, “I don’t regret my actions. And I don’t think Captain Rogers did either.”

“(Y/n)?” Phillips asked, turning to you.

You bit your lip, looking down at the reconnaissance reports on his desk.

“I’m not sorry,” you said finally.

“Oh?”

““Attempting a rescue mission, even if it proved unsuccessful, was better than just abandoning those men,” you said, looking up at him. “Yes, the mission failed, but at least we tried.”

“What makes either of you think I give a damn about your opinions,” Colonel Phillips huffed, brows furrowing in confusion as he glanced outside.

“What the hell’s going on out there?” he muttered, watching as soldiers rushed past the tent. You shook your head, quickly following him and Peggy out to the edge of camp.

The three of you pushed through the crowds of men, curious to see what was causing such a commotion.

“Look who it is!” someone shouted excitedly.

“I can’t see anything,” you groaned, jumping to try and see over the men in front of you.

“Oh my gosh, it’s Steve,” Peggy gushed.

“It can’t be,” you muttered, eyes widening in surprise as the men in front of you moved aside, giving you a clear view of Steve Rogers leading the battered men of the 107th back into the camp.

Peggy grabbed your hand and rushed towards Steve, weaving in and out of the medics swarming the crowd of newly arrived soldiers.

“You’re late,” Peggy said to Steve, clearly not upset at all. He grinned at her and held up a battered looking transponder.

“Couldn’t call my ride,” he replied, turning to you. “Agent (L/n).”

“Captain Rogers,” you said with a wide smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Hey! Let’s hear it for Captain America!”

You laughed as the soldiers around you began cheering loudly, shaking your head in slight disbelief.

“I can’t believe you did it, Captain,” you said incredulously, grinning as you took in the celebratory scene around you.

“Honestly, neither can I,” said a man standing behind Steve, a small smile on his face. “But I’m damn glad he succeeded.”

Steve chuckled, turning to the brunet soldier and beckoning him to come closer.

“Buck, this is Agent (Y/n) (L/n) with the SSR,” Steve said, gesturing to you. “(Y/n), this is Sergeant James Barnes.”

“Bucky,” the man said, smiling down at you as he extended his hand towards you.

“I see you found your Sergeant, Captain,” you joked, shaking Bucky’s hand.

“Took a lot of searching to find,” Steve said admittedly.

“How come?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“He wasn’t with the main group of captives,” Steve explained, pointing his thumb towards Bucky. “Zola had him locked in an isolated wing.”

“Dr. Zola experimented on you?” you asked, gawking at Bucky.

“Yup,” he said with a curt nod.

“And you’re alive? Holy shit, Rogers, I’m gonna need to borrow your friend for a second or two,” you rushed, grabbing Bucky’s hand once more and pulling him towards you. Steve laughed as his friend stumbled forward, patting him on the back before turning towards Peggy.

You sped away from Steve, dodging in and out of the thick crowd while practically dragging Bucky behind you.

“Easy, tiger,” Bucky chuckled, squeezing your hand.

“Sorry!” you called, casting an apologetic look back over your shoulder to him but continuing your fast-paced trek.

“Where are you takin’ me, doll?”

“The med tent,” you replied, blushing slightly at the pet name. Thank God you weren’t facing him.

You ducked under the entrance of the large canvas tent, letting go of Bucky’s hand as you weaved your way through the bustling space. The hospital had become rather busy with the sudden influx of wounded men, so you guided Bucky into one of the less crowded areas and pointed him towards an empty examination table.

“You know, no one’s ever come back to us alive after being messed with by Zola,” you started, grabbing a notepad and pen as Bucky hopped up onto the table obediently.

“Guess that makes me special, then,” he said with a grin, swinging his legs back and forth. You laughed softly, grabbing a spare chair and rolling it closer to the table.

“Very special indeed,” you smiled, sitting down and flipping the notepad open to an empty page. “I’m going to need any information Zola revealed while you were with him, whether it’s about his experiments, or shipping orders, or anything, really.”

“He likes dark chocolate,” Bucky said thoughtfully. “Ate a lot of it while I was in there, didn’t offer me any.”

You rolled your eyes, jokingly jotting down ‘dark chocolate’ at the top of the page.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Dr. Zola’s food preferences will help us take down HYDRA,” you said sarcastically, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughed as Bucky stuck his tongue out at you playfully.

“I think the experiment he was doing on me had something to do with human durability,” he said, leaning back and propping himself up on his elbows as he looked down as you. Your eyes widened at his sudden seriousness, quickly jotting down what he said.

“Like testing human durability?” you asked.

“Improving it,” he corrected, chewing at his bottom lip. “He wants to chemically alter human anatomy, or something like that. Make muscles and bones more resistant to damage under stress.” You looked up at him quizzically.

“Did he tell you all this?” you asked. Bucky chuckled and shook his head.

“That’s what he told his lab assistant,” he clarified. “But he also talked to himself a whole lot. He kept narrating what he was doing while he was doing it.”

“Very Type A,” you concluded, continuing to take notes.

“I think he’s lonely,” Bucky said in mock sympathy, grinning as you scoffed.

“He deserves more than loneliness,” you replied dryly. “What Zola needs is a bullet in his head.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, raising his eyebrows as he peered down at your notes. You glared at him, tilting the notepad towards your chest.

“These are confidential, mister,” you sassed.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” Bucky drawled playfully. You grinned, finishing the sentence you were writing and looking back up at him.

“You’re certainly a character, Sergeant Barnes,” you quipped, blushing as he smirked at you.

“Well, it’s not everyday I get the opportunity to impress attractive SSR agents,” he teased, “so I tend to make the most of these sorts of situations when I get the chance.” You rolled your eyes.

“And how much experience do you have charming such agents?” you questioned.

“So far, just you, doll,” he said slowly, grinning widely as you gaped at him, face flushing red.

“Well, that’s, uh, well then,” you sputtered, your resolve finally breaking.

“Cat got your tongue?” Bucky teased. You glared up at him pointedly and shook your finger at him warningly.

“You watch yourself, Barnes,” you said, the small smile on your face detracting from your attempt to ward off the attractive man sitting in front of you.

“You need any more information?” he asked with a grin. You bit your lip and nodded.

“Yes, actually,” you said slowly, the conversation suddenly becoming much more serious. “I’m going to have one of the doctors do a physical exam on you to make sure Zola’s experiments haven’t caused any permanent harm or anything like that, but we also need to know what exactly his experimentation on you entailed.”

Bucky frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Only if you’re comfortable, though,” you added hurriedly. “I can always get someone else if you don’t want to share with me, I promise I won’t be offended.”

“No, doll, it’s alright,” he said softly, looking up at you with his bright blue eyes. “I genuinely don’t remember much, I was unconscious most of the time.”

You nodded, jotting that down under the rest of your notes.

“I think he stuck me with some needles , but other than that I have no clue what happened in there.”

You looked up at him, frowning at how dejected his expression had become. You inched your chair closer to him, resting your hand on his thigh reassuringly.

“Hey, don’t get all upset on me, Barnes,” you said. His gaze shifted towards you, offering you a small smile.

“I just wish I could remember more,” he admitted. “It sucks knowing someone messed with your body but not having a clue as to what he did.”

“Still, you have to remember that the information you’re giving us is the most information we’ve had on Zola’s experiments in months,” you said. “Do you remember where he injected you.”

“My back, my arms,” Bucky said. “Probably more.”

“Well, based on what you’ve already said, Zola was probably trying to strengthen the muscle groups in those respective areas with his injections,” you offered. He grinned at you.

“The doctor can do some actual tests to see if anything actually changed, but that’s my theory for the time being,” you continued, standing up from your chair and stretching your arms over your head.

“You’re pretty smart, you know what?” he asked, looking up at you. You laughed, waving over an unoccupied physician.

“The SSR wouldn’t have hired me if I wasn’t, but I appreciate the compliment,” you said with a wink, turning to explain Bucky’s situation to the doctor and asking one of the nurses to fetch Colonel Phillips.

~~~~~

“Fancy seeing you here,” you said, sliding into the empty seat next to Bucky at the bar. He looked over at you with surprise written all over his face, grinning as you draped your coat on the back of your chair.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” he said incredulously. “I didn’t know you took breaks from work.”

“Only occasionally,” you quipped, waving the bartender over. “A glass of Schnapps, please.”

“You’re not at work and you’re drinking?” Bucky observed. “Jesus, who are you and what did you do with (Y/n)?”

You laughed, thanking the bartender as he set your drink down in front of you.

“Needed to unwind a little,” you explained. “Phillips is being slightly too condescending for my liking.”

“How you manage to put up with that man everyday is a mystery to me,” Bucky chuckled. You rolled your eyes.

“Technically, you put up with him everyday, too,” you pointed out. “He’s in charge of both this camp and your unit.”

“But I only have to see him like once a week,” Bucky retorted with a wave of his hand. “If I try really hard, I can pretend he doesn’t exist.” You laughed, taking a small sip of your drink.

After Steve returned, you'd traveled to London with Colonel Phillips, Steve, and the rest of the SSR agents in the camp. The last week had been spent trying to analyze the information Steve had collected about HYDRA during his rescue mission.

Much to your delight, Bucky had accompanied Steve to London. He often frequented your meetings, offering a combination of strategic insight and comic relief.

“Steve told me you’re joining his personal crusade against HYDRA,” you said. He nodded, a small smirk on his face.

“I’ve been following him around for my whole life, keeping him out of trouble,” he said thoughtfully, drinking from his own glass. “I guess I’m not ready to stop just yet.”

“He’s lucky to have you looking out for him,” you replied. He shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

“I’m lucky to have him,” he voiced honestly. “Without him, Zola probably would’ve killed me by now.”

You bit your lip, realizing that without Steve’s sheer determination and dedication to his friend, you probably never would’ve met Bucky.

“Well, I’m glad he went back for you,” you said softly, glancing at him and blushing when you saw he was staring at you.

“I am too,” Bucky replied, a small smile on his face. “There’s this really cute agent I never would’ve met without him.”

You rolled your eyes, blush deepening as you shoved your shoulder against his playfully.

“Quit teasing,” you said, really not upset at all.

“Never, doll,” he quipped, winking at you and glancing towards the door. “How about we blow this joint and get some fresh air?”

You grinned and nodded, hopping out of your seat while Bucky set some cash down on the table. Your brows furrowed as you noticed his money covered both of your drinks.

“I can pay for myself,” you said, looking up at him.

“Of course you can, but you don’t have to,” he replied, spinning around towards where Steve was sitting with a few other men from the 107th.

“Steve!” Bucky called, his friend perking up at the sound of his voice. “I’m takin’ this lovely lady on a walk, I’ll see you later.” You swatted his hand away as he gestured towards you, Steve laughing loudly from across the room.

“Have fun!” he shouted. Bucky looked down at you and grinned.

“You ready?” he asked. You nodded, slipping your coat on, grinning as he offered you his hand.

“Such a gentleman,” you sassed, grabbing his hand and starting towards the door.

“Always for you, doll,” he replied, pulling the door open with his free hand. You grinned as the cool air hit your face, a stark contrast from the stuffy bar.

“Have you been enjoying London, Buck?” you asked.

“Hell yea,” he chuckled. “Cool buildings, cool accents, what isn’t there to love?”

“The architecture is quite cool,” you laughed.

“I’m assuming this isn’t your first time in London,” Bucky said.

“You’ve assumed correctly,” you said. “Peggy and I get called here all the time for meetings.”

“The SSR seems pretty demanding.”

“They are, but it’s for a good cause,” you replied. “The harder we work, the sooner the war’s over, I guess.”

“How long have you been working with them?” Bucky asked.

“A few years, they hired me straight out of school.” You looked up at Bucky, his face illuminated by the streetlights. “How long have you been in the army?”

“A while,” he said. “Did my training back in the states, then got shipped out here.”

The two of you were walking slowly on the sidewalk, making your way back to the building all of you were staying at.

“Did you wanna come to Europe?” you asked, leaning against his arm.

“I dunno,” he replied, rubbing small circles across the back of your hand with his thumb. “Kinda felt like an obligation, and I didn’t really have a choice. How about you?”

“It was the first job offer I got, so I felt like I couldn’t say no,” you replied thoughtfully. “I guess I was indifferent at the time, but I’m glad I made the decision I did.”

“I am, too,” he replied softly. You grinned up at him.

“Oh?” you asked. “Why’s that?”

“Never would’ve met you if you hadn’t,” he said smugly.

“Smooth,” you replied, hoping your flushed face was hidden in the dim lighting. The other day Peggy had brought up that you blushed constantly whenever Bucky was around, and unfortunately, she was right. It really wasn’t your fault, though, he was a shameless flirt.

“I’m being honest!” he grinned with a shrug of his shoulders. “War sucks, but it’s the people that make it tolerable. Steve, the guys back at camp, now you.”

“Well, I enjoy having you around, too,” you added quietly.

“Aw, you’re getting all sappy on me,” he teased, pressing his lips to the top of your head softly. You gasped, eyes widening as you looked up at him in surprise.

Bucky bit his lip, looking down at you nervously.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, do-”

You cut him off swiftly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. He grasped your waist firmly with one arm, pulling you closer to him as he cradled your face in his other hand.

You pulled away reluctantly, gasping for air as your eyes met his.

“Wow, that was-”

“Pretty good,” he smiled, lips flushed and blue eyes twinkling. You grinned and shook your head, panting slightly.

“Bucky, I’d say that was way better than pretty good.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fanfiction #captain america tfa #captain america tws #captain america civil war

118 notes · View notes

sdottkrames · 4 years ago

Text

You Could Die (and I need you alive)

By: @sdottkrames for @itsy-bitsy-spider-fan, my @friendly-neighborhood-exchange contribution

Rating: General

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts

Summary: Tony goes to help Stephen Strange take down an evil wizard and wakes up with no memories and no Peter Parker. Time to get them both back (and save the wizards in the meantime).

Link to the story: here

Peter wasn’t supposed to be there.

When Stephen Strange called Tony up, asking for help, he immediately agreed. The fear in the good doctor’s voice was very real, so of course Tony went to help. He figured that the two of them could take down whatever baddie had given the wizard a run for his money.

He might’ve taken Natasha. Or Cap. Or even falcon. But he would never have taken Peter and put him in harms way. He had to protect his kids, after all.

Peter wasn’t supposed to be there. But he was.

Peter had walked in while Tony was getting into his suit, and had known something was wrong. Tony’s heart rate was elevated, and he never got into the suit to joyride anymore. The suite was armor, used in war. No longer a toy.

Tony hadn’t noticed him at the door, and Peter sighed in relief. He knew his mentor would stop him from coming, trying to protect him from harm.

Peter understood, though; he wanted to protect Tony just as much as Tony wanted to protect him. But he was definitely not going to let Tony sneak off to who knows where without backup.

He hid in the shadows and waited until Tony had taken off through the window before quickly slipping into his suit.

“Good evening Peter,” his AI chirped.

“Hey, Karen. Can you track Mr. Stark for me? He left a couple minutes ago.”

“Sure Peter.”

“Thanks. And Fri, can you open the window? Please?”

“Of course Mr. Parker. Though I might suggest that boss doesn’t want you following him.”

Peter rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know. He’s a regular mother hen. But I’ll be careful, I promise. I just,” he hesitated, his voice getting quieter, “I don’t want anything to happen to him, either.”

Peter could almost hear Friday sighing as the window slid open.

“Thank you.”

“Be safe, Mr. Parker,” Friday said, and shut the window behind him. Peter followed the arrows Karen projected to a warehouse and immediately felt his stomach drop.

He could hear grunts and yells coming from the warehouse, and while Tony’s voice sounded calm, Peter knew it well enough that he could hear the stress through his quips. His spider sense tingled, and he knew Tony was in trouble.

He didn’t waste a second before crashing through the window and landing in a crouch on the ground.

“Hey Mr. Stark. This guy bothering you?”

“Kid,” Tony groaned. “You're not supposed to be here.”

The villain paused in his attack, surprised by Peter’s sudden entrance, and Tony was able to get a hit in. The repulsor blast hit the evil guy and sent him sprawling. Tony quickly used his repulsors to get up off his knees though it was a little unstable from some damage sustained in the fight.

“We are going to talk about this later,” he said as he flew past Peter to engage the baddie again. The guy, who must’ve been a wizard, started chanting something.

Peter knew what was going to happen a second before it did.

Time seemed to slow down. Peter watched as tendrils of light came from the wizard and reached for Tony, who tried to dodge them but wasn’t going to make it. Peter acted on instinct, like when his spidey sense was telling him what to do, and launched himself to push Tony out of the way. He didn’t know how he moved so fast, but he was grateful he did, his only thought Not Tony!

When the light hit him, it was the strangest sensation, like his whole body was being slightly electrocuted. Not enough to hurt, but his body tingled all over and he found his muscles seizing involuntarily and unable to move himself. The wizard gave a wicked grin as Peter got closer and closer.

Peter watched helplessly as Tony stood and tried to get to him, but there wasn’t enough time. His suit was slightly damaged and he moved sluggishly, though his face mask was open and his face looked unharmed, so the suit must’ve taken most of the damage.

But before Peter could really appreciate the fact that Tony was okay, the wizard’s arms closed around him and the panic in Tony’s eyes matched the panic that instantly filled Peter.

“No! Let him go. Please let him go,” Tony cried, and Peter’s heart clenched at the fear in his mentor’s voice. But he couldn’t feel any regret. If he got hurt to keep Tony safe, it was worth it. He couldn’t have another Ben. He needed Tony alive.

“Fri, put everything you’ve got into my thrusters,” Tony demanded, the AI complied, and Tony sped toward Peter, muttering, “Not him. Not him.”

“Oh dear,” the wizard simpered as he killed the thrusters with a wave of his hand, and Tony yelled as he hit the floor.

Peter tried to yell, too, panic that Tony was hurt overwhelming him. But he was still unable to move; whatever spell the wizard had used was still paralyzing his body.

“Well, on the bright side,” the wizard said, “when you wake up, you won’t even remember him.”

And with a snap, Tony collapsed and Peter felt the world tilt under his feet as he was teleported away.

***

Tony woke up in his bed, feeling like he had a great nights sleep, and immediately knew something was wrong.

He had never , not in the last 20 years, woken up fully rested.

So he sat up in bed, and felt some of the panic he felt subside as he saw Pepper sleeping next to him. But the panic returned full force when she stirred, and looked at him like he was ghost. Her eyes widened and filled with relief, and she slowly reached to touch him.

“Tony. What happened last night? Why didn’t you call and tell me you were coming home? I waited till 3 in the morning.”

Tony opened his mouth to say something but was rendered speechless when he realized he had no idea. It was blank.

“I...don’t know.”

“Okay,” Pepper said slowly. “That’s alright. You’re here now, you’re not hurt.” Her eyes widened, suddenly. “Wait. Are you hurt?”

Tony took stock of his body and realized he felt a little sore (well, more than a little) but didn’t seem to have anything broken. He shook his head.

“I feel sore but alright.”

Pepper sighed in relief. “Okay. When I went to your lab last night to get you to come to bed, Friday just said you left around 11:30, after Strange called you for help. Peter left right after you.”

At the name Peter , Tony felt a jolt go through him. Whoever Peter was, Tony had a feeling he was important.

“Who’s Peter?”

Pepper studied his face, eyes narrowed. “You’re serious?”

“As the plague.”

“Friday, can you bring up Spider-Man’s vitals,” Pepper asked sharply.

“The Spider-Man suit is offline. I can't find him.”

Now Tony was starting to be really annoyed by his recent amnesia. Even his flipping AI sounded panicked that this Peter was missing.

“Give me his last known location, please,” Tony said, already getting out of bed and heading to his lab to grab a suit, Pepper right on his heels. They both screeched to a halt when they saw the state of his latest model. Two of the repulsors were completely crushed, and wires were exposed in more than one place. Worse than anything, the Iron Man mask had a hole in the middle, like someone had blasted right into his face.

“You sure you’re not hurt?” Pepper whispered, her grip on his arm tightening.

“Yeah. This must’ve happened after I got home. No way I got home in that.”

“So someone was in your lab?”

Anger boiled in Tony’s blood. Take his memories? Take this Peter (who was obviously important to him because everyone in his life cared about the guy)? Come into his lab? “Unacceptable,” he muttered.

“Boss, Peter Parker was here last night.”

“So he has a last name, huh?”

“Yes, sir. He was in the custody of this man.” She projected an image of a man with dark skin and short, curly hair. He didn’t look familiar, but he wore robes that he’d seen on the other wizards. “His name is Baron Mordo. He also had Dr. Strange with him. I assume he took him and Peter to the same place. I took the liberty of tracking him through security cameras when I couldn’t get a read on Mr. Parker’s vitals.”

She displayed a pin showing the baddie’s location. Tony immediately called another suit, relaxing a little as the familiar feeling of his armor surrounded him.

A clang came from the side, and he looked to see Pepper adorned in her purple rescue suit.

“Oh don’t give me that look,” she said, her voice metallic from her mask.

Tony’s suit whirred as he held up his hands defensively. “You can’t even see my face!”

“I know you well enough, Tony. I don’t need to. There’s no arguing, I’m coming.”

Tony could tell that she wasn’t just coming for him. She cared about this Peter, too; more than he’d expected. “Pep, who is he?”

“Let’s find him. You can see for yourself.”

Together they flew through the open window, Tony tossing a quick thank you to Friday, and followed the path she gave them. They ended up at an old warehouse.

“Why is it always a warehouse?” Tony muttered.

“Perhaps because villains don’t want to be found and warehouses are easily overlooked,” Friday quipped.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Is he in there?”

“I’m sensing many body heat signatures.” Friday displayed a thermal reading of the building for Tony and Pepper, showing about 10 bodies. Only one was moving freely. “One is Mr. Parker, one is Dr. Strange. The one moving is Baron Mordo.”

“And the others?” Pepper asked, her voice tight.

“Other hostages. They all seem to be wizards from Dr. Strange's sanctum.”

Friday displayed faces to match each of the body signatures, and Tony lasered in on the face labeled Peter Parker, body tensing as he waited for a thrill of recognition. The only thing he felt was surprise at how young Peter looked, his unruly curly hair flopping over his forehead, and his cheesy grin lighting up his boyish face.

“Nothing,” he breathed.

“You don’t recognize him?”

“No. But I know I should. I know he’s important. So let’s go kick some wizard butt and save him and my memories. I'll get Peter, you get Strange.”

“Wait. That’s your plan? Just charge in?”

“Well, we have the element of surprise. And if we can let out some of the others, then it should be easier to overwhelm him.”

“Fri, is there any way to get in stealthily?”

“The back window is open enough to let you two in." Friday highlighted the open window.

“Let’s try and get as many free before he sees us and attacks,” Pepper said

Tony nodded. “Right.”

They flew in the open back window and found themselves in a large warehouse room. There were about 20 hostages scattered in various clusters around the open space. At the end was an open door to a smaller room which was occupied by the rogue wizard, according to Friday.

Pepper left to find Strange with a whispered “be careful!” and Tony was directed to a blue and red clad body, black accents spider-webbing across the suit. “Right. Peter is Spider-Man.” He reached out a hand and gently shook the limp body. “Kid. C’mon kid.” Panic filled him when the boy didn’t rouse. “No. C’mon. You gotta get up. I don’t know how, but I know you’re important, and you can’t die on me until I know!” He turned wildly, looking for his wife and some guidance. “Pep, he isn’t moving.”

“Neither are any of the wizards except Strange. He says it’s a sleep spell. Peter’s fine, but we need to get the staff, which should be by Mordo’s office.

“A sleep staff. Okay Pep, new plan. I’m gonna distract the evil Dumbledore and you grab the staff and get it to Strange. Hopefully we can wake up the others and easily take him.”

“Okay. Be careful, Tony.”

“ You be careful.”

Tony cast one last lingering look at the sleeping Spider-Man. He couldn’t be more than 15. How did he get involved in being a superhero and fighting evil villains? He wanted to find out everything. Tony sighed. That would have to wait. He had a villain to beat.

“Hey Malfoy,” he called, sauntering toward the door, swaggering and posturing like he owned the place. He needed to distract this guy long enough for Pepper to steal the staff and wake the others. He hadn’t fared well against him before, obviously, and didn’t like his chances now. He was hoping for a stroke of luck and for the plan to work.

His luck seemed to hold. The guy appeared in the door frame, but made no attempt to attack Tony other than with a dirty look. “Harry Potter? You could come up with nothing better?”

“Eh, what can I say. If the nickname fits, it fits. And you seem like the misguided, but redeemable type. I’m guessing you felt wronged by someone you were close to and decided to take revenge on all wizards. It’s not too late to stop and let these guys go.”

The wizard regarded Tony with calm demeanor, seeming to wait patiently until Tony finished talking. “I have to say, Stark, I’m impressed. Even with the memory spell and the fear I tried to place with your other suit, you found me. And your boy.” Tony felt a jolt as he realized the guy meant Peter was his boy. Was he his son? “And you’re right. My fight isn’t with you. You and Spider-Man here were just caught when you came to help Stephen Strange. This is his fault. So I will make you a deal. If you leave Stephen to me, I will release the spell and give you back your memories and let you leave here with the boy.”

As he spoke, Tony backed up to prompt Mordo away from the door. It worked. Baron stepped into the main atrium, and started walking as he monologued. Pepper, who was camouflaged in stealth mode, was free to sneak into the room for the staff which Mordo had conveniently left behind. Friday quietly let Tony know that Pepper had been successful in grabbing the staff.

“Tempting, but you forgot the most important thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I never work alone.”

And with that, a glowing light lit up the room as Dr. Strange activated the wand, snuck to him by Pepper, and woke his wizard companions. Mordo’s face was priceless. Strange was quickly freed by his comrades and Tony grabbed Pepper and Peter and hid. He wanted to get out of the way, but lingered to make sure Strange didn’t need any help.

He didn't. The wizards made short, sparkly work containing Mordo and soon they took him to wherever they held their baddies, Strange giving a quick thank you before disappearing in a shower of Golden sparks.

“Wow, Mr. Stark. I was really worried you wouldn’t come for me. I mean, the last thing I heard was the wizard saying ‘when you wake up, you won’t even remember him.’”

Tony chuckled at the kid’s poor imitation of the wizards voice, but it quickly died as he realized he needed to tell this bouncy, doe-eyed kid that he really didn’t remember him. “Yeah, kid, about that,” he said, and his heart clenched as Peter’s face fell.

“You really don’t remember me?”

“I-I’m so sorry. I don’t. I know you’re important. I feel like you’re right under the surface, that I should remember you, but it’s just not there.” Tony’s own eyes pricked as Peter’s eyes filled with sadness. “I’m sorry,” he said again, lamely.

Peter shook his head, sorrow giving way to determination. “Apology not accepted. We’re going to Dr. Strange, and he’s gonna fix this. I will not lose you again.”

Again? The kid was there when he nearly died and woke up one arm less?

“Peter. Sweetie, before we go, are you alright?” Pepper asked, ever the selfless mother figure. She touched his arm, rubbing gently.

Peter’s shoulders relaxed at her touch. “Yeah, Pepper. I’m totally fine. He didn’t hurt me, I promise.” He turned to Tony. “I just want you back.”

“Me, too, kid. Me too. I know you’re important, he couldn’t make me forget that. And I want to know how Spider-Man became my kid. I’m assuming you aren’t literally mine?”

Peter chuckled, but his cheeks colored and he bashfully admitted, “Not exactly. But you’ve called me son once.” He shifted a little, and Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “And I’ve called you dad a couple times,” he mumbled, ducking his head.

Tony just chuckled and ruffled Peter’s hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. It felt right.

Tony was more than ready to remember this kid that was Morgan’s brother in everything but blood, and who made him so easily affectionate. Sure, it had only been a few hours, apparently, but that was long enough.

“Let’s go get my memories back, then, son,” Tony said, grinning as Peter’s eyes widened before he grinned back.

Pepper cleared her throat. “Are you two idiots done? Or should I leave the room?” But she shook her head at the two boys indulgently. “Tony, let Peter hold on to you while you fly. It’ll be faster. I’ll head back home.

Tony froze. “Won’t you fall off?”

“Spider-Man, remember? I’m sticky and super strong. I won’t fall.” Peter said, already climbing up Tony’s back, so Tony relaxed and started his repulsors once Peter was situated.

The ride to the sanctum was quick and quiet. Dr. strange met them on the front step, having been alerted by Friday that they would be coming.

“Stark, Parker, come in. I have to finish getting Mordo locked up. Here’s some tea, if you’d like.” Suddenly they were in a little sitting area, a pot of tea steaming on the table. “I’ll be right with you when I’m done.”

“Thank you,” Peter said, sitting and pouring himself some tea.

Tony pulled the other seat out as an awkward silence fell. “So, uh, Peter, how did you become Spider-Man?”

Once Peter ascertained Tony was being serious and actually wanted to know, he was as eager to share his story as Tony was to hear it. He seemed to revel in being able to tell Tony everything, rambling on and talking with his hands. Tony learned all about Oscorp, about how they’d become acquainted, their lab nights, and the very first time he’d called Peter “son.”

Tony was only slightly disappointed when Stephen Strange appeared suddenly through his golden portal, and Peter quickly stopped talking.

“You want your memories back, Stark?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m going to warn you, it might feel strange,” Strange said, then gave Peter a look when he snorted at the pun.

Tony nodded to signal he was ready, the wizard did something magic with his hands, and suddenly Tony felt what he meant by strange . It felt like his brain was tingling, righting itself. It didn’t hurt, but it did ache, and Tony prepared himself to take a bunch of Motrin when he got home and maybe take a nap. If Morgan let him, that is.

Then the sensation dissipated, and one by one the memories with Peter came to the surface, and Tony spent a couple minutes reliving everything that happened piece by piece. He cringed at his failed early parenting attempts, chuckled softly at the antics they got into during lab nights, and felt tears wet his eyes as he remembered Peter’s death on Titan and their subsequent reunion, and then glared at Peter when he remembered how the young hero had snuck out to follow him.

“Peter Parker, what in the world were you thinking, sacrificing yourself for me like that?!”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Couldn’t you have left that part out?” He asked Dr. Strange.

The wizard shrugged. “It’s all or nothing. Sorry. Now, as fun as this has been, I need to make sure that Mordo has no allies that will come looking for him. If that’s all, I will say goodbye and show you two out.”

“Yeah that’s all, thanks Dr. Strange!” Peter said, following said Dr. to the main entrance with Tony close on their heels.

“Yes, thank you. I’m glad to have my memories back,”

Tony said as they all shook hands.

“You’re welcome.”

And with that, the wizard nodded and disappeared, leaving Tony and Peter to make their way back to the compound.

Peter had insisted that he was alright, but Tony had already alerted Cho that he would need a quick scan, and knew that Peter had insisted on the same for Tony. They really were a pair.

One flight, two check ups, and three cups of hot chocolate (with marshmallows) later, Tony and Peter we’re curled up on the couch.

“I’m really glad you remember again,” Peter said softly, picking at the blanket he was cocooned in.

“Me too. Really glad. I’m sorry I forgot in the first place,” Tony said, nudging what he thought was Peter’s shoulder underneath all the extra padding. “Actually, I’m curious, why haven’t I heard the full Oscorp story? You told me more of it today than before.”

Peter cocked his head and pursed his lips. Considering. “Well, I guess because...I wasn’t sure you wanted to know the whole story. And I assumed that you already knew. I mean, you did stalk me for a couple weeks before recruiting me.”

“Hey! I resent that!” Tony said, grinning. “In all seriousness, kid, I don’t care if you talk for hours, or say things I already know. I love hearing everything going on in your life, okay? Don’t ever hold back. I mean it.”

Peter ducked his head. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Another thing I wanted to bring up...I really do like it when you call me dad.”

“Really?”

“I promise.” Tony smiled softly at his kid, and held his arms out. The blanket burrito next to him fell clumsily over so that his head rested on Tony’s lap. Tony automatically found his hand running through Peter’s curls. Peter’s eyes closed almost immediately.

How could he ever forget this? How warm, important, safe... loved... he felt with this kid? He wanted to take the feeling he felt right now and tattoo it onto his very soul. He’d never have trouble sleeping then.

“Thanks, dad,” Peter mumbled sleepily.

Tony closed his eyes, trying to commit this feeling to muscle memory. “Anytime, kiddo.”

Tony’s eyes soon closed as he joined his son in dreamland. Pepper found them later, and definitely didn’t snap any photos. And she definitely didn’t give them to Tony and Peter for Christmas. And they definitely didn’t cry.

Definitely not.

#the friendly neighborhood exchange #i love my iron dad and spidey son #pepperony #mine #pinned

15 notes · View notes

phoebehalliwell · 4 years ago

Note

So I LOVED your Sheridan and Warren fic!! The two of them are hilarious because that are just trying their best those poor boys! I had a hypothetical, so like in all those AU where Prue is wished alive in I Dream of Phoebe, what would happen in this situation? Would Prue go see her sisters or would she go find her kids? ALSO Prue as the boys magical (deceased) guide is Perf 👌🏻

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA tysm !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love my boys so much i’m really trying to keep them like. like as removed from proper magic as possible bc i just think it’s really fucking funny to just follow two bimbos around as they try their best. i’ve also def like tinkered w canon a lil bit as explained in this post here only to keep them further away from aunts who could explain everything like they don’t even have a whitelighter bc paige was supposed to fill that role really the only person they have is prue who gave them a crash course when she unbound their powers as explained in this post and they will occasionally summon her but even then it’s less for advice and more bc like. they want 2 talk to their mom. and i do think prue will occasionally try to make like guest appearances on their birthday she’d def be a presence kinda like how grams was a presence for the girls if they had a book of shadows prue would do the flipping. but they don’t. she did guide their familiar to them!! the cat’s name is swizzlesticks and yes it is just kit again lmao. But. Ur Question. so basically in w&s’s origins jack raised them post prue death and like he kinda fucked off to japan for the rest of the show (sidenote both warren and sheridan are quasi fluent in japanese like jack the only difference is while jack uses his bilingual talents for business the twins almost exclusively use this ability to multitask while watching anime) so i think piper and phoebe had like Zero contact w their nephews and paige actually has never met them like she didn’t even really know they existed bc deadass just no one mentioned them. so like if prue is wished back to life in i dream of phoebe for starters she’s gonna know chris is piper and leo’s son bc she’s been keeping an ear to the ground and Heavily monitoring this chris situation before she assessed that he was good she spent a lot of time trying to figure out if a ghost should beat the shit out of an alive witch so idk who’s wishing prue alive in this specific au tbh u know what richard’s kinda off the shits this ep he’s probably wish prue back to life to try to prove to paige that she doesn’t have to be a charmed one she can just be paige :) and paige would lose her SHIT bc like oh my god that was not what she wanted and she’s so not ready to meet prue but here she is lmao and chris is freaking out bc now he really knows he’s altered the future in Major ways i think piper would see prue and immediately pass out and while i think prue would really really want to see her kids her first task would definitely be fixing the future and she would entirely dedicate herself to making sure wyatt doesn’t become evil but i think like she would pull chris aside and be like hi in your future where are my kids and chris would be like who? and prue would be like my sons?? warren & sheridan???? and chris would be like what?????? bc this whole time if wyatt was indeed not the eldest son like are you Fucking Kidding Me????? but no he’s never even heard of warren and sheridan bc in the dark future their powers were simply never unbound and they just continued to live as mortals and may or may not be dead depending on how good the witch finder bots are but like. i don’t think even if wyatt knew they existed he would want to find them bc that just draws attention to the fact they existed and he’s not the firstborn of the next gen so either they’re doing fine-ish all things considered or they just like died lowkey. but chris didn’t even was remotely aware of their existence. and i think this would kinda send prue into a bit of a tailspin bc her boys are so far removed from their legacy and their family (and they’re being raised by jack yikes!!) and she’s like no these are my kids but if she wants to get where they are she either needs to book a fight or find a whitelighter so i think this would specifically be a prue/paige adventure which is also nice bc paige is omnilingual and prue does not speak japanese so like. idk cute adventure. probably use some monster from japanese mythology to save either some smallish town or alternately a major city bc both of those r fun. i think if jack saw prue again he would start throwing things at her and stuff bc he’d be convinced this is some demon here to kill his kids just like they killed her bc haha that’s not a recurring nightmare lmao so i think prue would cast the truth spell right then and there to prove she’s really her which also leads to some good comedy and character development bc jack paige and prue are all under a truth spell and there is a lot unsaid between all of these characters with paige’s inferiority complex and prue and jack’s true feelings for each other and issues caused by prue’s death y’know blah blah blah but i think prue would really use this opportunity to bring warren & sheridan back into the fold so to speak and bring them to the manor and properly train them in the craft and tbh in this specific au i think prue and jack would actually end up together. bc in any other world i’m saying they literally just coparent like they’re fond of each other and will always love the other in like some way but it’s not like Love but i think here specifically it’s like. like the time spent apart where jack just like fucking wishes prue was there and realized what an absolute sap and hopeless romantic he is bc yeah he always like grand gestures and clowning around but like. warren and sheridan’s first steps? and jack was just fucking alone like ngl he almost cried bc he just wished. like prue should have been there. she would have been a great mom. she was a great mom. and his kids deserve their mom and like. he just wishes he could have shared that moment with her. completely unbeknownst to jack prue actually does like you know watch over them all and she’s just like. like blown away by jack. like never in a million years would she have thought he was capable of doing what he did. like. like wow man. and i think the combination of those two like actually having them together again and raising their kids i think romance would blossom again. and i think it would be this insane slowburn bc i think y’know like. like it only happened the first time bc jack pursued prue and was like stubborn and stupid and he like knew she was outta his league but it didn’t matter bc that relationship was just for funsies it was a fling it was never meant to be permanent but if jack were to pursue it know it’s be like. permanent. you know? and jack just doesn’t think prue feels the same way like jack’s a fuckin idiot he knows that and prue’s like a witch? like an insanely talented with and a successful photographer back from the dead don’t worry about it lmao and she just like. she takes the world by storm she balances her career and motherhood and saving the motherfucking world like how could she ever. she would never want to be with someone like jack like that’s just. it’s not in the cards. and prue on the other hand keeps waiting for the penny to drop she keeps waiting for like. jack to realize he doesn’t have to be here anymore. she’s convinced he’s gonna hop town and continue being the man she knew while she was alive now that he doesn’t have to keep watching over the kids now that he’s free in a way but that just never happens because jack doesn’t want to leave like those are his kids also he’s in love with prue lmao but she just can’t. she doesn’t get it. men leave. that’s what they do. that’s what they’ve literally always done she can’t like. she can’t open herself up to something serious only to have jack just ditch and leave her kids with the memory of his back walking out the door so she lowkey starts to push him away put her walls up which only furthers jack’s belief that this is never gonna happen but sometimes it’s like they’ll accidentally fall asleep on the couch together in the middle of the afternoon with the sunlight on them and they’ll wake up like Horribly Embarrassed like oh my god which they’re like this isnt weird okay like we have kids together they’re right there like. we have had sex multiples times before piper walking in on up taking a cat nap in the living room is literally it’s nothing!! oh but it so is something meanwhile phoebe the empath is about to lose her Fucking Shit like guys!!! guys!!!!!!!!! and piper’s just trying to reign her in like no don’t interfere bc piper knows prue’s fear of abandonment and she does not know this new iteration of jack she just remembers what he was like and she doesn’t want to see prue get hurt paige is on the opposite side bc she has literally never met any previous iteration of jack or prue and she’s like hello?? they’re in love?? and chris is like hi okay but like. the task at hand? and the girls are like no shh like trying to covertly spy on prue/jack/warren/sheridan/wyatt all playing in the solarium prue’s doing the telekinetic mobile thing again and jack’s expression of wonder is the same as his sons like !!!! and chris is like deadass i do not get it okay evil wyatt tho. but blah blah blah slow burn i think prue and jack would get married like s8. their wedding would replace paige and henry’s bc as mentioned before paige and henry having a wedding esp a wedding that early was like. dumb. but yeah. prue x jack brainrot. i’m mentally ill i love them so much.

2 notes · View notes

anistarrose · 4 years ago

Note

Owl Balance anon here. Haven’t thought about specifics—other than the idea mentioned by Novantinuum when I mentioned those two crossovers regarding TOH being a world they visit along with SU and they’d aid everyone in the final fight against the hunger—but here’s an idea that kind of plays into a parallel you saw. Along with “flip wizard” and “from TV” and the like, a common epithet for Taako is “The Theropod Wizard”. Why, you ask?... “MY NAME IS D U P R E E!”

Oh! And to clarify, I didn’t mean Balance (my personal favorite of the seasons and the one I always turn to) being put into the filter of the Boiling Isles, I literally meant the two worlds coming together.

Another balance connection: if the theory about King being one of the titans who was made small and powerless and also got amnesia (I think the seal making him small is that collar around his neck, nothing about his missing horn) is true, then there could be a slight Davenport parallel there.

asdfodhgdfg I love all this, especially The Therapod Wizard! My first impulse when thinking of crossovers is usually “how would the story both change and unexpectedly stay the same if X characters were put into Y plot and setting,” but characters meeting each other via interdimensional travel is great too, and the Stolen Century is the perfect excuse for that.

Barry would be a huge fan of the Boiling Isles’ whole messed up hellish aesthetic, while the collective Boiling Isles would probably be very confused about how this human can be such a powerful necromancer without spell circles or glyphs or anything? Barry’s used to this reaction, though — not because he’s human, but just because of his general aura of mundanity. He’d probably get in trouble trying to reanimate a giant skeleton or something.

I love any and all theories about King being amnesiac, but I also think it would be hilarious if he and Magnus hung out, because King is dog-adjacent enough that I think Magnus would be physically incapable of saying “no” to him, and that’s a recipe for chaos! They would get in somehow even more trouble than Barry while attempting to “conquer” Bonesborough, and then lead some kind of prison riot, because you know Magnus is all about rebelling against unjust authority.

I’m going to stop here because now I’m thinking about Belos getting the Light of Creation, and if I play in this space any longer I’ll want to write an actual crossover fic even though I already have far too many WIPs as is.

#the owl house #taz #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #rosalia answers #anonymous

6 notes · View notes

jq37 · 5 years ago

Text

The Report Card -- Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 1

Sophomores and Spring Break

Note: Hey guys! I decided to try something a little bit different and slightly more structured than my usual recaps for FH: Sophomore Year. I’m hoping this will be a little easier for me and a more useful tool for keeping up to date since there will be a lot more eps to keep track of and they’ll be easier to miss. Lemme know what you think and if you want raw, unfiltered opinions on anything specific, feel free to send me an ask. I’m always down to go off about literally whatever.

We’re back, baby! It is Sophomore Year at Aguefort and the gang is on Spring Break. A lot is going down so lemme break it down. The Bad Kids, having defeated Kalvaxus last year, are all entitled to a share of his hoard and all the red tape is finally cleared so they all get 20k gold each (which is an insane amount of money converted to USD if you use the WOTC conversion rate of a gold coin being around $145 (circa 2006 when they answered the question)--which would be close to $330 with inflation). Jawbone and Sandra-Lynn are moving in after less than a year into a profoundly haunted house and it’s kind of a Full House situation because Adaine, Fig, Kristen, and Tracker all officially live there (plus it seems that Zayn has also anchored himself to Adaine’s tower--btw, Adaine took the tower that the haunted house obviously has) and you know all the other Bad Kids are gonna be there on the regular.

More importantly, Aguefort gives the gang their big project for the year--finding the crown of the Nightmare King which was stolen at the end of last season--which is worth 60% of their grade (Adaine does a full Hermione at this information). Each of the gang has info about the NK but the trail has mostly gone cold. Luckily, Fabian just got a hot tip about where Falinel is keeping Aelwyn and she seems like a pretty good lead to start with since she was super tied up in the bad side of all the messiness of last year. Adaine is displeased to say the least.

Going off to find the crown is super exciting story-wise for two reasons. First of all, it means the gang gets to hire, well, hirelings to help them and temporarily join the party! They ping basically every cool NPC they can think of (except for Tracker for some reason which is BONKERS because (1) she probably would have done it for free and cutting her in would still be keeping the money in the family, (2) she’s dope as hell, (3) she’s a cleric and the party can always use more healers, (4) she’s a werewolf so presumably she has skills that would help in the woods, and (5) they’re t r a c k i n g down a crown and the girl’s name is literally T R A C K E R, but I will not backseat D&D) and eventually end up with Ragh (who has been without an adventuring party all year, poor guy), Sandra-Lynn (swayed by a nat 20 rolled by Fig), Cathilda (!?) ,and, for some reason, Gilear (which Fabian is happy about, mainly for the opportunity to maybe bump him off on the way). Second of all, if you recall, Elmville is a pretty modern town but the rest of the continent is less fantasy high, more high fantasy. Horses and lanterns and all that pseudo-medieval goodness. They are gonna stick out like a sore thumb. I am very here for it.

Everyone goes home to rest up but, after some ominous dreams, only four of them wake up. Riz and Fig are left asleep and then Brennan mic drops and ends the episode which is a power move and I am extremely upset about it but also, respect. Right for the jugular immediately. I heard Murph and Emily are on tour in the UK next week which probably has something to do with this but, in the moment, I did not know that and I really felt the hammer drop in my heart. It was wild. Cannot wait to see where we go from here. Plus, who doesn’t love watching characters freak out because their friends are in danger?

Random Thoughts

I have no idea what the title of this episode is or if it’ll even have one and not a number but I gave it a placeholder one for now. I also don’t have access to the stream yet so I didn’t get to include some info I wanted to (like a record of nat 20s, and nat 1s so I can track their stats for the school year) and I probably missed some stuff because my brain can only hold so much info guys. I’m not Brennan.

I mentioned this yesterday during the stream, but there will never be anything better than the pure D&D joy of everyone, in character, talking over each other to clown on each other. They get the friend-group banter that’s a hair breadth’s away from bullying so true to life and it’s so fun to watch. On the flip side, the opening scene with everyone introducing themselves and affirmatively claiming each other as their best friends was also peak D&D. Found family= best trope.

Fig and Adaine burn spell-slots at basically the same time to try and beat each other to the best room in the (Scooby-Doo ass) house--which is exactly the kind of thing that would happen in this world. It’s such an intuitive setting. I love it so much. (BTW, Fig ends up staying in the false space under the revolving grand piano because, of course).

Fabian and Gorgug went to recruit Ragh, who assumed they were propositioning him for a three-way. In his defense, they did do it in a super proposition-y way and they were in the middle of the LGBTQ student union.

Also, Gorgug gives Ragh an inspiring speech about thinking you’re your own dad which makes him burst into tears.

Speaking of, Jawbone offhandedly says he’s poly but, like, based on some of the stuff he’s said, I feel like that’s not really a reveal. He also gets along well with Gorthalax and would be down w/ a three-way if Sandra-Lynn wanted to which, again, totally checks out.

Arthur Aguefort uses Chronomancy to rewind time and catch a snide comment Adaine made under her breath, which is exactly the kind of frivolous use of God-like power I’d expect from him.

I really love Adaine’s energy coming into this season. She’s in therapy. She’s in a good home environment. She’s comfortable enough with her friend group to do stuff like prank Fig (love that they’re gonna be living together now). And she’s good friends with Zayn now which I want to see more of based on their one interaction in this ep which was very cute. I am already on record as saying I would be down with her getting a ghost boyfriend--I mean, for the aesthetic alone--but I’d be happy with just more friendship.

Fabian is also hilarious this season because you can tell he’s gone a bit soft from having friends and leaning into that (the friendship necklace with Riz) but also he’s fully aware that it’s happening so he’s, like, ping-ponging back and forth like, “These are my friends,” and, “What am I saying? I used to be cool,” and it’s very funny. Very happy the Aelwyn storyline is happening right out of the gate, both because I think Aelwyn is a very interesting character with a lot of potential for nuance but also because Fabian reacting to her and Adaine reacting to Fabian reacting to her is always gold.

Prompted by an offhand conversation from Fig about rock and roll, Brennan--earning another feather for his Cap of God Tier DMing--goes on an impromptu five minute long improved diatribe about a bard who played such a good concert that it instantly impregnated everyone in attendance (dudes too) who gave birth to kids with sick rocker hair and denim jackets and ascended to Rock Heaven on their 18th Birthday. You truly have to watch it to believe it. At a certain point I thought he was gonna drop it but that was the moment he doubled down and kept going. Amazing.

Watching Murph, in real time, make up a girl/boy/whateverfriend in Fantasy Canada was a gift.

I don’t have access to the stream yet but best quote of the night that I can remember is Kristen choosing her room: This is triggering and I’ll take it. (Her line about her lesbian starter kit and the one about wanting a horse were also bangers).

The group talks about what they’re going to do for transportation outside of Elmsville since they don’t really use cars out there and they somehow get from “disguise Fig’s tour bus” to “commission Aguefort to create a brand new animal that can hold six people plus hirelings, one of which is Fabian who is also riding his motorbike”.

I love that Sandra-Lynn’s Mom Powers work on Tracker.

Basrar doesn’t accept the invitation to come with on the quest, but he does give Kristen a bag of infinite ice cream sandwiches, which is basically just as good, IMO.

Oh Gilear. The man is sleeping in the Seacaster garage, being bullied by skater kids, and now he’s stuck on this quest with his ex and Fabian who actively wants him dead.

Speaking of, I’m psyched to see more of Sandra-Lynn. She was kind of a sleeper badass at the end of last season.

Ragh is keeping secrets which I hope the cast doesn’t forget because it could be nothing serious (like the high school drama happening with Skrank and the 7 maidens--maybe he’s just crushing on Gorgug who did full kiss him during Promocalypse) or it could be Serious Business that will blow up if the don’t stay on top of it. We’ll see.

Oh, almost forgot. Adaine wants an emotional support frog. Every time I think I can’t love her more.

Detention

Fig for Not Respecting Personal Boundaries

Fig goes full Emily right out the gate and, after finding out that Skrank (nerdy bird dude who apparently can get it) was not only dating Ostentasia (rich, popular dwarf) but also dumped her in pursuit of Danielle Barkstock (one of Ostentasia’s party members, the scandal), disguises herself as him with Danielle to figure out what’s going on. And, wouldn't you know it, when she gives herself away, Danielle immediately is shocked and appalled, as you would be, obviously. We also learn that she’s still catfishing Dr. Asha which is, how you say, for sure a crime. Fig, please, I’m begging you. Cease.

Honor Roll

Fig, Riz, and Adaine for Researching the Nightmare King

Fig made both lists, look at that. Wasn’t my plan for this to be a three-way tie (also didn’t expect to use the word “three-way” this many times in this writeup) but I think their contributions were pretty much equally valuable. Rainsolo on the Discord wrote up this summary of the lore dump Brennan gave them.

#fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #the report card #report card

103 notes · View notes