#but that I WILL RAISE MY BUGLE --- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fullybooked · 1 month

Text

What Are My Other Options?

Title: What are my other options? Pairing: Insomniac!PeterParker x Reader Word count: 9.6k Warnings: mentions of cheating (but Peter would never) Notes: F/T = favorite topping Summary: The reader has come to the conclusion that Peter is cheating on them. What else are they supposed to think when he’s always running off and constantly canceling their plans? That he’s Spider-Man?

It wasn’t often that you got a chance to dress up anymore. As a grad student, there was very little spare time to spend on your appearance, and when that kind of rare opportunity arose, you jumped at it. So you didn’t feel bad about spending the last hour in front of a mirror, tossing around outfits, and destroying the closet in the process.

The occasion? The New York Times Gala. You’d been working for the biggest news outlet in the state for your graduate program for investigative journalism, a spot you had fought tooth and nail for. Every News Outlet and invited celebrity would be there, the Daily Bugle, The Wallstreet Journal, USA Today, and you’d heard whispers of Tony Stark attending. You hadn’t even learned until last week that you would be allowed the attend as well. As nothing more than an intern, you hadn’t seen there being a reason.

But your boss had given you the news last Friday, and you’d practically skipped home to tell your boyfriend, Peter, about it. And that you had a plus one. He’d been almost as excited as you.

Which is why you were finding it hard to believe that he wasn’t home right now. He wasn’t getting ready with you, he wasn’t even answering your calls or texts. So while you were excited, there was a bubble of worry hiding underneath.

“Where is he?” You’re muttering to no one but yourself. The last touches of your outfit were going on, and the last train you could take would be at the station in 20 minutes. Your window was closing.

Looking down at your phone while adjusting your choice of red accessories, you start to wonder if something bad had happened to him. After all, New York was crawling with supervillains and regular villains alike. And Peter was equipped for any kind of fight he might’ve run into. Ever since you met him in your first year of college, he had been one of the most peaceful people you’d ever met.

Your red shoes rest by the door, and while pacing your living room, you decide to call his Aunt May. She would surely know if anything, bad or good, had stopped Peter from coming home on such an important night. You click on her contact, resisting the urge to bite your nails from nerves.

It’s only two rings before she answers, “(Y/N)!” she answers happily, “I’m a little shocked to be hearing from you so late, is everything alright? Isn’t tonight your Gala for work?”

Aunt May was nothing short of a saint. Kind and caring, traits she’d taught Peter as she raised him. You adored her, the two of you always got along great when you and Peter volunteered at FEAST or went over for dinner. You weren’t sure if the lack of concern in her voice should make you more worried or not.

“It is,” you tell her as you watch the clock tick on, “but I haven’t been able to get ahold of Peter all night. I’m starting to worry. Have you heard from him?”

There’s a hum of confusion on her end, “I’m afraid not, dear,” she says, “but I wouldn't start worrying just you. We both know how bad he is at keeping time.”

It was true. Peter was chronically late. Normally, it was funny, except for the few times he was an hour late to your date nights. But this was different. He knew how important this night was for you and your career as an investigative journalist.

“I know…” you agree with May, “It’s just…I can’t be late for this, and the last train is leaving in 15 minutes.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand as you speak to her, and you bring it away from your ear to glance at the screen. A photo of you and Peter in front of the Ferris wheel at Coney Island is on screen, his name appearing with heart emojis next to it. Relief floods your system.

“Oh!” you gasp and return to speaking with May, “that’s him! I’m so sorry for bugging you May!”

She chuckles, “don’t be, dear. You two have a good time!”

You hang up, immediately answering Peter’s call, “Pete! Where are you!? I’ve been calling you all night!”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” his voice sounds winded and tired, like he was running, “I just…got wrapped up in something at work, me and Doc were talking about his lab and…I’m really sorry!”

“Well, where are you?” You ask. There was no point in telling him it was okay, because it didn’t feel okay, “the last train is about to leave and we can’t be late–”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” his voice cuts you off before you can continue your nervous ramble, “Me and Doc are still wrapped up in this lab project and I won’t be able to make it back in time for the gala. I know how important this was to you and I promise I will make up for this tenfold for the next 20 years–”

You could hear the rushing wind of New York behind the phone as he continued on an apology that you didn’t feel in your chest. He sounded sorry, sure, but you could only feel disappointment in his words. Your shoes are on your feet, and you’re looking at the clock hanging next to a vacation photo of the two of you on the beach. Your lack of response is response enough to him, but you’re too busy deciding if you should be angry or not.

“(Y/N),” he says your name, “I can’t say I’m sorry enough, but you’ll do fantastic even if I’m not there.”

“Seriously?! Of all nights, Peter, you have to pick tonight to flake out on me? You know how important this is and you can’t even look at a clock for two hours?!”

You had 10 minutes to get to the train station from your apartment, a task that would surely try and ruin your hour of work on how you looked.

“I know, babe, I’m so–”

You click the end call button before he can finish. Fumbling with your keys, can feel your cheeks warming up in a rush of emotions. First, embarrassment. A couple of people in your office had been excited to meet Peter, and now you would show up alone. Stood up by your boyfriend of 4 years. The gala would go on without him, and you would have to put on a pretty smile to go along with it.

Which is exactly what you did, barely making it on time to walk with your boss into the decorated hall. Telling your coworkers that your boyfriend had eaten some bad takeout for dinner and was at home nursing himself back to health. Hoping nobody saw how your eye twitched whenever Peter texted you before turning your phone on do not disturb.

That night, you locked the bedroom door and left a pillow and blanket on the couch.

★★★★★★

Something you and Peter had in common was your love of pizza. Both of you had differing opinions on the best pizza place in New York, but you did agree that any pizza was better than no pizza. So when you two moved in together, it was an unspoken rule that at least one night a week, you scaped whatever money you had together and ordered a large pizza.

“It’s my week to pick,” you remind him as you sit cross-legged on the couch in your studio apartment, holding the phone of power in your hand, “and I say Benny’s.”

Peter is standing in the kitchen, pulling a can of soda from the fridge, “aw man,” he says, “but they don’t have the good pepperoni.”

“But they have the Italian sausage,” you remind him, already pulling up Doordash on your phone, “and it’s my night.”

Peter looks over his shoulder, a smile on his face that always makes you blush and look away like a teenager, “you’re lucky I love you,” he says, “and I’m willing to part with the good pepperoni.”

You giggle back, “Aren’t I the luckiest? So half sausage half (F/T)?”

“It’s your world, babe,” he says as he walks around the couch to sit beside you, “I’m just living in it.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for,” you look over at him with a grin.

These nights were the ones you loved the most. The two of you in pajamas, ordering your favorite food, waiting for the newest episode of Game of Thrones to air, in the quiet of the apartment. Where the noise and air of New York felt like it was miles away, and your little bubble couldn’t be disturbed.

Peter leans down, his eyes soft when he looks at you, and he kisses you slowly. Every kiss with him, deep or small, left you with fire in your veins. Whether it was innocent or lewd, at home or in the park, an apology kiss or a hello kiss, you always felt like you were walking on the hot air of a volcanic eruption. He pulls away, smiling like he was looking at the sun for the first time.

“Hm,” you gaze back at him, “I don’t care how much you kiss me, I won’t be swayed into Lenny’s.”

He gives a dramatically fake sigh, “There went the plan of seducing you into mushroom on half.”

“Well, I didn’t say that…” you roll your eyes, still smiling. You were always smiling with Peter. Or, most of the time you were.

His phone dings on the coffee table in front of you, the screen face down but illuminating the light-colored wood around it. It caught you off guard for a moment, that his screen is face down. And that he picked it up immediately. But you didn’t let it bother you for long, deciding to order the pizza while he checked whatever notification he had.

Just as you hit delivery, Peter stands up from the couch in too quick of a motion to be reassuring. You jump slightly at his speed, looking back at him in confusion. Tilting your head, you look as he shoves his phone into his back pocket.

“Pete?” you say in an unsure voice, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s great,” he says. The slight rise at the end of his sentence makes you narrow your eyes, “It’s just uh…Doc texted me and uh he says he’s had a breakthrough on this project, but he needs my help with it..”

You can’t hide the disappointment in your expression as he makes a reach for his keys hanging by the door, and for his bag by the couch.

“Oh…” you say, trying to mask the sound of defeat in your voice, “right now? It’s almost nine pm.”

“Yeah, it’s just…a really important project,” he insists as he pulls his shoes on hurriedly. You would think he’d just gotten a call from the police with how quickly he was moving, “and you know Doc, he’s always rushing through the numbers, so I should just make sure he’s got them all right before moving on.”

He was rambling. His voice was rising and falling. Every tell he had that he was lying, but you didn’t want to jump to that conclusion. What was there for him to lie about? What would have him running from the apartment so late? He did care a lot about the projects he and Doc had going at the lab, he was always doing some kind of numbers crunch for his boss.

Peter slows his pace when he takes note of your expression, avoiding his eyes, “I swear I’ll be right back,” he says as he walks back towards the couch where you sat, “30 minutes tops, I’ll be here before the pizza guy, I promise.”

So it wouldn’t be a long late night call by Doc, then. That makes you feel the tiniest bit better, and you give him a small half-hearted smile. What were you supposed to say? No, don’t go to your job that you’re so crazy passionate about? Don’t go help your boss on a project that could potentially change lives? You make no move to stop him.

“I promise,” Peter repeats when he doesn’t see a lift in your spirits. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again, lighting you on fire from the inside, “don’t start the episode without me!”

You tried to take that as a sign that he meant it. Half an hour and he would be back with the pizza still hot in the box. So you kissed him goodbye and sat on the couch by yourself in the apartment. As soon as the episode started, you hit pause and texted Peter that you had done so, letting him know that every second you were away from Jon Snow would be counted towards your next pizza night.

20 minutes passed, and the pizza showed up with steam rising from the box. His half with sausage and mushroom was untouched as you grabbed a slice from your side. Just because he said to wait on the show didn’t mean you had to wait for dinner.

30 minutes, and you figured he was fighting the night rush on the train. He didn’t answer your text message, but he probably needed all of his attention on his work right now. You don’t make a fuss, keeping the show paused.

After an hour of no response, you get fed up of sitting with just your phone and decide to unpause the show. If he came in and mentioned it, you would tell him to watch it tomorrow night while you were at work. But he doesn’t come back. Even when the episode is over, you haven’t heard the jingle of the keys in the lock.

Two hours late, as you decide to pack it up for bed, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. From the kitchen, putting the box of pizza in the fridge, you heavily roll your eyes. Your disappointment was riddled with hints of anger, but there was also confusion. Peter had always been flakey, he’d always been late, he’d always been absent-minded and forgetful, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d put his phone face time when around you lately.

It could mean nothing. In fact, it probably did mean nothing, but there was a sense of dread in your gut. You weren’t sure you wanted to face the idea that was forming in the back of your head. Because you loved Peter, you loved him so much you weren’t sure what life had been like before you started loving him. He made you feel safe and seen and understood, he made you feel like someone important in a city where nobody mattered unless they were on the front page of a magazine.

And if there was one thing you were sure of anymore, it was that Peter Parker loved you too. Nothing had shaken that fact over the last four years, and you weren’t sure anything ever would.

But you could still be upset with him when he did things like this. Like bailing on your traditional date night, like standing you up on one of the most important nights of your rising career. You picked up your phone, reading the text from Peter that had come in two minutes ago. All the lights in the apartment were off, and you were ready to tuck yourself into bed.

His message read, “Baby I’m so sorry. I’m gonna be a little while still, please don’t be too mad at me.”

The words “I’m so sorry” were starting to grow old to you. You lock your phone and leave it in the living room with the screen facing up, no response, and your chest getting heavier and heavier as you sit in the empty apartment by yourself.

★★★★★★

He’s just late, you tell yourself, like always. He’s always late.

You couldn’t even tell yourself that he’d never been two hours late befor because he had. Sitting in the corner booth of Leo’s pizza, more dressed up than you should be for a place like this, you try to convince yourself that Peter was late for a good reason.

The train broke down, he’d had his phone stolen, sandman was on the loose again and he had to take the long way here.

But the news was mostly quiet, with no attacks, and he hadn’t even texted you. Again.

You stir the straw in your soda, watching the melting ice bump into the sides of the glass as your mind runs rampant. After Peter had bailed on your pizza and Game of Thrones night, you had been angry and hurt and unable to hide that from him. His apology? Take you out to Leo’s for dinner, your favorite pizza place of all time.

There was no way Peter would stand you up for your apology date. Not even he was the absent-minded, you were sure. You’d been talking about it just this morning over breakfast in the kitchen. He’d given you free rein of the toppings, and he would meet you here after work.

Looking at the clock, two hours had become three, and Leo’s would close in one more. Sitting back in your booth seat, you swallow the lump of emotions that wanted to burst out.

“That boy still not here?” Leo, the man behind the counter, asks you.

The burly Italian man had been witness to your guys’ relationship grow. From your first date to your anniversary dates to your celebration dates. He’d seen it all from behind the counter, and you were sure he would be witness to every other milestone. At least, you had been.

Sitting in the booth alone, you were beginning to wonder if there was anything beyond these four years with Pete.

“I wish I knew, Leo,” you admit and look down at your phone.

It buzzes as you’re looking at it. But when you see Pete’s name pop up, you don’t feel any sense of relief or anger or even sadness. Maybe you just didn’t want to feel it all at once in front of poor Leo. He didn’t need to witness that part of your relationship.

Pete had said, “Where are you at? Working late?”

You couldn’t help the scoff, “he forgot about me,” you say more to yourself than anyone else.

“What was that?” Leo asks when he catches a hint of your mumbling.

You look up from the phone, tucking it away into your pocket, and give the man a tight smile, “nothing, Leo. Sorry for wasting your time.”

Pushing yourself out of the booth, you wonder how you would go about this. Peter had been bailing on you more and more these past few months. With date the gala, with date night, and not to mention the countless nights he comes home so late you think he’s an intruder half the time. Had he always been like this and you were only noticing now that you lived together? Or had you just ignored it because of how much you loved him?

“Not a waste of time,” Leo assures you as you walk towards the door, “you and Peter will come back soon, I’m sure.”

He sounded confident. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to politely agree. You thanked him again. You texted Peter back while taking your time walking towards the train station.

“Well, I was at Leo’s,” you reply, “waiting for your amazing apology date.”

Not even a full minute goes by before his caller ID appears on your phone. You answer it out of pure curiosity, too tired to be angry at him anymore or even upset with him. He’s speaking before the phone can even fully reach your ear. Pete’s voice sounds frantic.

“I'm on my way!” He insists, “just give me two minutes and I’ll be there, I swear, (Y/N)!”

“Forget it, Peter,” you hope your voice doesn’t sound as strained as it feels, “I already left. Go back to work.”

“I wasn’t at work, I was…” He doesn’t seem to have a good answer for her, “Just give me two minutes, (Y/N) and I can still make this date happen, I promise!”

“Peter…” You weren’t sure you wanted to go back to the apartment and face the conclusion you were drawing, “all I’ve heard the past month are apologies and promises you don’t keep. It’s exhausting.”

“I know, I know, I’ve been a shit boyfriend but I’ll get it together, I know I will.”

“Even your apologies need apologies,” you sigh, rocks sitting in your chest and making you walk slower, “how many more nights are you going to stand me up this month alone?”

“None!” He insists, “It’s not gonna happen again, ever.”

“Why has it already happened six times then?” You shake your head as you reach the train station, your stomach rumbling as you regret not getting a slice of pizza to go, “and yes, I’ve counted. That’s just this month!”

There’s no immediate response on his end, and the silence makes the rocks in your chest grow to fill your stomach as well. It was like every conversation you had was giving you more reason to believe that suspicion that you wanted to forget about because it made no sense.

In the night air of New York, you can smell pizza and trash trucks littering the street. And somewhere in the distance, the sirens that were always going in this city. You weren’t sure if it was from your end or Peter’s

“(Y/N), when you get home I swear we’ll talk this out,” he finally breaks his stretch of silence, “I’ll be waiting for you, and you can yell at me for however long you need but–”

You close your eyes for a moment and grip the phone, “do not say you need to go.”

“I have to go…dammit,” he mutters the last word to himself, “I’ll meet you at home, (Y/N), I’ll be there and we can work this out.”

You shake your head, watching as a train approaches the boarding area. One that wouldn’t lead you to the apartment but to somewhere else. You step onto the nearly empty car, watching a few people shuffle out and pay you no mind.

“Don’t bother, Peter,” you say, “I’m staying with my parents tonight, okay? So just go back to whatever work is more important than I am.”

★★★★★★

A very common task given to you at work was getting coffee. Usually, it was the first thing you did in the mornings when your boss handed you a company card and a piece of paper with everyone's order on it. Sometimes throughout the day, you would be sent on other various food and drink runs, but only around meal times.

Sitting at your desk, you were looking over the files on your computer that contained a few of the articles being pitched to your boss that afternoon. Your task was the weed out the “boring” ones by trying to decide what he would deem boring in the first place. You weren’t expecting any kind of task before the meeting, so all of your attention was on the article on your screen.

“(Y/N)!” You jump nearly out of your desk chair when your boss yells your name from across the room, “We need a coffee run before this meeting!”

Your boss was not a man of patience, so you had a few seconds before he got annoyed with your lack of movement. Closing the tab on your computer, you grab a piece of loose paper and a pen and start across the room of office cubicles towards him.

“Your usual, sir?” You ask him in the fake professional voice you’d taken to using with him.

He nods his head and holds up the silver credit card for office expenses, “Yes, and an iced chai for Martha when she gets here, and a vanilla latte with soy for Marcus.”

You scribble down the other orders as you nod your head and take the card, “I’m on it, back in a jiff.”

“(Y/N)!” here it came, “can I get a lavender mocha?!”

Everyone would shout orders at you as you left when they heard a coffee run was being called. Normally, you tried to get out of there as quickly as possible before too many orders piled up. Because no one would offer to come with you to help carry them, and you could only carry so many steaming cups before you were destined to spill them on yourself.

The paper is filled before you’re in the elevator anyway, leaving you with 8 orders of coffee. You liked being at work because you hardly had time to think for yourself. Unless you were doing some kind of food or drink run, and then you had entirely too much time to yourself. And right now, you didn’t want to spend too much time in your head.

For the past three days, you had been staying overnight at your parent's place in Queens. During the day you would be at your apartment, getting ready for work or making your meals, because you knew Peter would be gone at the lab. You hadn’t come face to face with him since the morning he stood you up for his apology date, and it’s because you couldn't bear to look at him. Just the thought of confronting him with the truth made you nauseous. You weren’t sure you wanted him to say it out loud or not.

Your parents hadn’t minded when you showed up, near tears, telling them that you were at least 80% sure that Peter was cheating on you. They’d offered you their guest room and told you to think about things with a clear head. Your mother had been very adamant that you talk to him first.

But you’d been ignoring his calls and texts like the plague. Partly because you wanted him to know what it felt like to be ignored, and partly because you weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him yet. You knew you would talk to him when you were damn well ready, and you weren’t ready. Not this morning when he sent his usual “good morning” message and asked if you wanted to meet for lunch.

Maybe tonight you would talk to him. You would bite the bullet and get the truth, even if you didn’t like what it was.

As you stand and wait for your two coffee carriers, you look down at your phone and all of Peter’s unanswered texts and voicemails. He was persistent, especially when it came to your relationship. You love that about him.

Peter Parker didn’t do anything half-assed. Everything he did from school to work was 100%, and relationships had never been different. At least not until now. He’d loved you as much as you loved him, you had been sure of that until now. You just didn’t understand when that had changed. What had made him back away from you to the point of forgetting about you multiple times a month?

“(Y/N)!” You hear it called from up ahead. You look up from your phone, wondering if your order was done already. But you see a familiar face walking towards you in a grey sweater vest and a head of thinning brown hair with small glasses.

You smile and turn your body to face him, “Doctor Octavius!” You greet, “it’s been a while!”

“It has,” he agrees as he reaches out to shake your hand, “it’s so funny running into you here. I’m here every day for lunch but we’ve never run into each other.”

You shake your head politely, “this is an odd time for a coffee run for me,” you assure him, “so how are you? Things at the lab doing okay? Peter is so excited to be working with you.”

“And I’m happy to have him,” Dr. Octavius says, “he’s passionate about helping people, that boy,” he then waves a hand through the air to laugh, “if only he could be on time for once in his life! But I’m sure you know all about that.”

You give a pained smile, hoping it looked more real than it felt, “You have no idea,” you agree and then try to forget about the sore subject in your relationship, “but I’m sure he’s making up for it with all the late nights, he’s always thinking about your guys’ projects.”

Dr. Octavius laughs while pushing up his glasses, “Oh, I wish we could do late nights,” he tells you, and your heart begins to pound, “I’m afraid I don’t have the funding to keep workers past normal hours. But that’s not an issue for now, I’m glad Peter has some spare time to spend with you. You two remind me so much of me and my wife when were young…”

His word became muffled. No late nights. He didn’t have the funding for late nights. But Peter had been telling you that he was at work, with Dr. Octavius. He’d been telling you that for months. If he wasn’t there…where had he been going? Why had he been lying to you? What was the point of lying to you?

You’d never been the kind of person to tell Peter what he could and couldn’t do. It was his life, his choices, his spare time. Why did he feel the need to tell he was somewhere when he wasn’t? The weight in your chest stretched down to your stomach, and you wondered if anxiety-vomiting was a real thing. It felt like you were about to find out.

“Order for (Y/N)!” Your name breaks your trance as well as the conversation with Dr. Octavius, who was still speaking despite you not hearing it. You look up at the barista counter, where your 8 drinks are waiting for you to grab them.

“Oh, I’ll let you get back to work,” the doctor says as he hears your name as well, “I hope we run into each other again, (Y/N).”

“Me too, Doctor,” you tell him, hoping it sounded scincere, “good luck with your research, I can’t wait to hear about it!”

The doctor smiles, and he’s about to turn away when he looks back at you, “Oh, and (Y/N), great work on that Oscorp piece last week!”

Any other day, you would be ecstatic that someone had read you piece in the back of the paper and at the bottom of the website. Especially after all the work you put into gathering information on Oscorp’s underhanded carbon emissions from half of their facilities. But you didn’t feel that excitement, you hardly felt anything about it. But you thanked Dr. Octavius and grabbed your row of drinks off the counter.

Your brain was in another world entirely as you balanced everything on your hands. Peter had been lying to you for months. Maybe even longer than that. He was bailing on your dates, leaving you alone in the apartment at night to “work.” Still, you tied to put half of your focus on getting back to work in time for the meeting without spilling anything. You only took your eyes off the coffee to check your footing.

But the streets of New York were never kind, not even to those having a month full of bad days. With your eyes on the coffee, you fail to notice an incoming biker barreling down the sidewalk. There’s a ding of a bell that makes you look up, but it was to late to get out of his way without spilling anything.

What’s one more bad day, You think when you realize your situation, on top of all the others?

Still, you yelp as he barely swerves around you, your foot caught under his thin tire. When you jump from pain, your hands instinctually let go of the coffee trays. The smell of lavender and espresso douse your nice work clothes, and hot liquid burning the exposed skin it touches. You jump back from the biker, who was already whizzing past you and disappearing into the city. The edge of the sidewalk was right there, and your heel is already too close to the edge.

“Whoa! Watch out!” You hear someone calling down at you, but what were you supposed to do? You were already slipping into the road and watching as cars didn't bother to slow down.

There’s a burst of air at your side, a hand on your hip, and your feet are barely picked up off the ground before being sat back down a few feet further into the walkway. You saw the red and blue before you could process the entirety of what had just happened. Spider-Man, the walking legend of the New York streets. He was the small time hero whs ometimes got into big-time fights. Your boss absolutely loved him.

You’d never had a personal enounter with the hero before, and you didn’t think you would ever need to. But you’d heard plenty of stories from other people while working. He was a good man, someone who cared about the people of New York, even the small people like you who didn’t have their names on billboards.

“Are you okay?” He aks you.

His voice was a little distorted when you heard it, robitcally. It must be another way for him to protect his identity, you assume. Maybe his suit was more high tech than people realized. You look over at him, wide eyes, coffee all over you, your skin tinted red from the heat, and you say nothing at first. Taking in the situation. Taking in the information Octavius had given you, and the only conclusion you could draw from it.

Spider-Man tilts his head as he lets go of your waist, “Miss…are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Besides the burning coffee your arms an your throbbing foot, you shake your head. But you could feel the emotions you were pushing down starting to bubble over. A month of ignoring signs that the person you loved more than anything was cheating on you, hoping it was all some big misunderstanding. Your job piling more tasks on you because you could take it, with no breaks and hardly time to eat lunch. You just wanted a pizza night with Peter, with your favorite show and your favorite person right next to you. But he was, clearly, with someone else when he was supposed to be with you.

Your eyes start to burn.

“Okay, good,” Spider-Man says with a nod of hs red and blue mask, “that was almost bad. Do you need smeone to uh…walk you back to wherever you’re going?”

Why did he care? You were fine, just getting more upset by the second. Any minute the dams would burst and you didn’t need a superhero seeing you cry over spilled coffee. So you shake your head again, trying to wipe the coffee from your skin.

“That looks like it hurts,” Spider-Man comments when he sees the light burn on your arms, “we should get some ice on that. That coffee shop should have some,” he points to where you had just come from.

You shake your head again, “I’m fine.”

But even to you your voice sounded thick with emotions he woudln’t understand. Hell, you didn’t even fully understand them. What you understand is that Peter wasn’t going to be who you call anymore after a bad day. You wouldn’t go home to him tonight because he would be gone, tell you it was for work, and then turn his phone upside downwhen he got back.

“Alright miss, if you’re sure,” he says, “but some ice water might make it feel better. I’ve had few coffee burns before too.”

You weren’t sure what the final straw was, but you couldn't stop it anymore. The tears fell, and you drop your head into your hands to block it from anyone who walked by. But nobody in New York cared about people who cried in the street, you knew that. You just didn’t want to be the weirdo on this day who broke down in front of a coffee shop. Keeping you cries as internal as possible, you begin to turn towards the coffee shop once more.

“Whoa,” Spider-Man stops you, “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? It’s just a few cups of coffee, we can order more.”

This stranger sounded so much like Peter in his words that it made you cry a little bit harder. Peter was the go to for any kind of comfort. He spoke so calmly when you were loosing it that if made you feel more in control. You hated it right now because you weren’t in control of anything anymore.

Spider-Man places a covered hand on your shoulder that you’re too upset to brush away.

“It’s everything!” You sniffle on the street, people pushing around you without sparing your emotional break a glance, “I’m gonna be late to the meeting because i have to chage clothes, and now I have to get more coffee, and I think my boyfriend is cheating on me!”

Hearing the words out loud, you cries become harder to muffle and tears begin to fall onto your palms. Peter was cheating on you, you were sure of that. There was nothing else that explained his behavior and lies. Normally you wouldn’t wail about your problem to a stranger, but what could it hurt? It’s not like he knew you or Peter, and he would forget about this in an hour when he was pulling a kitten from a tree.

“Wait, why would you…” his voice sounded hurried at first before he stopped and corrected himself, “um why do you think that, Miss? That your boyfriend is cheating on you? I really doubt that’s the case, I mean I don’t know him but I think that’s way out there to assume, not that I know anything about your relationship–”

“What do you care?” You turn from the super hero and back towards the coffee shop, where you try to swallow down your cries and sniffles long enough to order your coffee for a second time.

★★★★★★

Your boss had not been happy to see you appear in coffee covered clothes with a slight limp. He’d been the slightest bit concerned when he also took note of your red eyes and ruined hair, but then told you to go home and change as quick as humanly possible.

But you didn’t move like you were in a rush. Actually, you drug your feet back to your apartment hoping that Peter would really be at work. You didn’t even want to walk into the home you shared with him knowing that he had been running around with someone else while you were there alone. But you had no where else to go and change that was within a one-train-ride distance.

You unlock the door, eyes still stinging at the corners, your clothes sticking to your body. And there was a slight sting in your skin where the coffee had hit. Maybe Spider-Man had been right about icing it. Maybe a cold shower would make you feel better physically and emotionally, but you doubted it.

You open the front door, dropping your keys in the tray by the door.

“(Y/N)! You’re home!” You nearly jumped out of your skin when Peter’s voice came from the living area, “please, we need to talk!”

You look at him as you shut the door behind you, and you wanted to start crying just seeing him. But you held it in and turned away from him.

“I don’t have time for this, Peter,” you tell him, “I’m late for a meeting and I have to shower before I go back.”

“Please, (Y/N) even just a two minute conversation, I swear,” he pushed, walking after you as you went towards the bedroom where you had a bathroom connected, “you don’t even have to talk, just listen.”

“I don’t have time for this!” You repeat, starting to get irritated in the sadness you felt when he spoke your name. You reach the bedroom and make a beeline for the bathroom, wondering if he would disappear before you got out. He follows you up until you close the bathroom door in his face. Your tears fall again under the cold water, and you hope he can’t hear it.

You showered, changed, and blow dried your hair. Not as quickly as you could’ve, but quick enough for your boss to think you moved as fast as you could. Part of you didn’t even want to go back in, but the other option was staying here and facing the music with your boyfriend.

Who was still there when you opened the bathroom door. Sitting on the bed you two shared. His side was strewn about from sleeping, his pillow crooked, the blanks tossed aside. But your side was untouched, even your half of the blankets pulled up. You were always the one to make the bed. He immediately stands up when he hears the door open, turning towards you.

His normally put together hair was frazzed. He ran his hands through it when he was upset. It was one of his tells when he was nervous and tried to hide it.

“Peter…” you sigh as he gets up to follow you from the bedroom, “please, not now. I have a lot to do at work, and I don’t need to be thinking about this while I’m there.”

“You won’t come home at night,” Peter says behind you as you reach for your shoes by the door. They still had coffee marks on them, “you only come back when you know I’m at work, I don’t know when we’ll be able to talk aside from showing up at your work. Which I have thought about, believe me.”

“Then just wait until I’m ready to talk,” you tell him, “what’s wrong with that option?”

“Because I really want us to go back to normal, (Y/N). I want you to come home, and I want to see you next to me in the mornings, and I want to hear about your day–”

“We can’t go back to normal, Peter,” it looks like you were doing this now. There was no way around it anymore. Part of you was relieved, “not after this. I don’t even think there can be an us to go back to.”

“Please don’t do this, (Y/N),” he pleas, approaching you but keeping enough distance between you that you didn’t feel trapped here, “I know…that…I know you think that I’ve been doing something, I know what you think and you have to know–”

“How would you know what I think, Peter?” You ask him, your throat threatening to close, “you’re not around to hear what I think anymore! You’re never here, you’re running out in the middle of the night, you’re lying about where you are!”

“I know that I’ve made some stupid mistakes this past month,” he insists, “but I can fix it all, I swear, and you’ll never have to deal with those problems again.”

Fix it all. He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t fix the fact that you didn’t believe a single word he said now. Or that you would always wonder if he was looking at someone else when you went out on dates. But you still looked at him and you loved him because you knew what it felt like to be loved by him at one point. When had that changed? When had he stopped loving you? Was it so quick you only noticed now, or had it been so slowly you hadn’t noticed at all?

“Just…” you inhale deeply and try to keep your breathing steady, “tell me the truth…please. Are you cheating–”

“No,” he shakes his head before the question is even out.

“--on me? Are you seeing someone else?”

“No,” he repeats, “I am not, have never, and will never cheat on you, (Y/N), I promise.”

“I don’t believe your promises anymore, Peter.”

“I love you,” he takes a few steps to close to distance between you two so he’s standing directly in front of you. He reaches down for your shaking hands, like he wanted to steady to flurry of emotions you were feeling, “I love you so much, and that is a promise I have never broken. Why do you think that? Why would you ever think I would chose someone over you?”

You pull your hands away from his, sick at how at ease he could still make you feel when he spoke with such a calm voice. You didn’t want to be calm or sad. You wanted to be angry. But his brown eyes only left you feeling small and defeated.

“What else am I supposed to think?” you shake your head and take a step away from him, “what are my other options? Of course there’s someone else–”

“There’s no one,” he presses, “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved like this.”

“So you leave me at a table by myself at Leos?” You ask with a disbelieving headshake, “and tell me you’re at work when Dr. Octavius says he can’t keep you after hours? If you’re not cheating, Peter, then why all the lies? Give me the truth, or I don’t think I can handle being loved like this anymore.”

He doesn’t say anything. Your shoe are on, youre reaching for the doorhandle, and you don’t think he’s going to stop you. That hurts more than anything. Or mayb all of the hurt was piling up and you didn’t know what was the most painful anymore. You couldn’t look back at him for fear you would crack and beg for an answer.

Your hands on the door handle, you want him to stop you, but you refuse to beg him to choose you.

There’s a thwipp sound behind you, and then something cold has your hand pinned to the doorknob. Unable to turn it. You look down at it, and a pile of white spiderwebs is covered your hand entirely. Looking back at Peter, his hand is out and pointed in your direction. His eyes are wide, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing either.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says and takes his hands through his hair in distress, “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I couldn’t let you walk away thinking that I had cheated on you.”

Your head was going a mile a minute, probably not even on Earth anymore, and you were staring down at the webs covering your hand. Your first coherent thought was that it was Peter you had cried in front of an hour ago, crying about your cheating boyfriend. The second thought was that this also made sense for all the lies and the leaving.

“I’m not gonna stop you from leaving me,” He’s rambling behind you, “even though I’m ready to get down on my hands and knees and grovel for one more chance, but if you need to walk away from me then please just know the truth when you do it. I love you, (Y/N), and that is the only thing I’m sure is true anymore.”

You sniffle, your tears having run dry, “Peter,” you say in a dull and emotionless voice, “can you come get this shit off my hand so I can go back to work?”

★★★★★★

Needless to say, you didn’t get anything productive done after that encounter with Peter. It wasn’t hard to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t cheating on you. You’d been looking for a reason to do that for a month now. But the fact that he was Spider-Man?

Your Peter, who hated violence, who was as peaceful as a butterfly, who didn’t even like watching MMA fights, was a crime fighting superhero? With powers? And you’d been living under the same room as him for a year and had never noticed?

Your brain was connecting the pieces of every time thing that had happened. Like when the sink handle had broken off one morning in Peter’s hand when you’d first moved into the apartment. You’d laughed about it, thinking about what a funny stroke of bad luck he’d had. Or when he’d come home bruises along his back and say he’d fallen while trying to get work on time. It had sounded true at the time, but Peter wasn’t the clumsy type. Now you knew why. He was coordinated enough to fight super villains.

None of what you needed to get done happened at work. You could hardly process any words you read, and any conversations went in one ear and out the other. Your boyfriend was Spider-Man, you were still grappling with that revelation by the time you got off.

You decided to go home. Now that you knew Peter wasn’t cheating on you, it felt like you could at least see the place again. However, on your walk to the train station, you were hyper aware of every se of sirens that went off somewhere in the distance. Which was every three seconds in New York, and the worry you felt knowing he could be at any crime scene was arguably as bad as the anxiety you’d felt all day.

Of course you could text him. But after ignoring him for three days, it felt only right to talk in person. You hoped you would be home when you arrived, but if not, you would have to wait. It would give you time to think of what you were going to say. Of how you wanted to go about things now that you knew the truth.

You unlocked the front door with anxiety running through your veins. On the other side, the remains of his webs from earlier were still hanging from the doorknob. He’d cut you free with his house keys, and you’d left before you could see the webs closely. When he wasn’t inside, you looked at them a little closer. They were as thin as real spider webs, but you’d felt how strong they were when holding your hand down. Peter was genius enough to make these himself, that’s for sure.

The apartment was empty. You didn’t hear any sign of Peter. So you place your keys in the tray by the door and take a seat on the couch, letting things slowly settle in your head.

You sent Peter a text, “I’m at home. We should talk.”

You honestly weren’t expecting a reply, so you set your phone down and decide to find something to eat. As you silently open the fridge, your options are slim. There’s one can of Dr. Pepper, left over pasta, and a container of uncooked mushrooms in the drawer. Peter clearly hadn’t been shopping while you were gone. You reach for the left over pasta, figuring it was your only option that required minimal cooking tonight.

“(Y/N),” your name makes you jump a mile in the air, a yelp leaving you. Spinning around, you see Peter.

He’s sitting on the edge of a newly opened window that led to your fire escape. In a familiar red and blue suit with a web design on it. The mask is crumpled in his hand, like he didn’t want you to panic when you saw him. His hair is a frizzed mess, and his eyes are staring at you like he was shocked to find you standing in the kitchen.

“You’re here,” he says as you place a hand on your chest to feel how hard your heart is hammering.

He steps into the living area, and you can see the suit in clear lighting. He came in so easily and with skill. Like he’d done it a million times before.

“That’s how you get in without setting off the alarm?!” You ask him in disbelief.

He looks back at the window for a second, and then back at you, “Yeah,” he confirms, “It doesn’t wake you up, and it’s less stairs.”

“Less stairs,” you repeat and nod your head, setting your cold pasta on the counter, “yeah, makes sense, sure.”

Peter puts the mask on the coffee table beside your phone, “you want to talk?” he asks, as if confirming it was you who sent the text message, “I wasn’t sure you were ever coming back, if I’m honest.”

“Well I did ask for the truth,” you tell him, leaning back against the, “I can’t be mad that I got it.”

There’s silence on his end. Like he wasn’t sure what to say next. But you weren’t either. A few things came to mind, but you didn’t know where to start. So you decided on the first thing that came up when you opened your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you land on, “for thinking you were cheating.”

Peter looks up, eyes wide, clearly not having expected that, “what? Don’t apologize, I’m supposed to be apologzing.”

“Yeah, well, I figured I owe you one too.”

The space between you two felt like miles, but it was only feet. And the apartment felt cold, like you were both avoiding making the first move. You wanted him back at your side, as close to you as he could be. You wanted to sit on the couch with Peter as your peasonal heated blanket, listening to his heartbeat as you fell asleep.

“I owe you about a million more,” Peter shakes his head and finally breaks the distance separating you two, “I never should’ve even let you begin to think that I would pick someone else over you. I should’ve told you the truth years ago, I should’ve told you the moment I realized I loved you, I’m sorry.”

He’s maybe a foot away. He’d closed the distance up until now, and you decide to close the rest. Your hands reach out, the feeling of the suit alien under your fingers, but his warmth reminds you that its him. Pulling him forward, he practically melts into you as you wrap your arms around him. Burying your face into his neck, feeling his hair between your fingers. It was Peter, your loyal and loving Peter.

Peter holds you back. Now you know that the strength he’s holding back is because he doesn’t want to hurt you. How could Peter ever hurt you? He loved you, and you loved him. After too long thinking that that was a lie, it was a relief to know it was still true. Keeping this kind of secret couldn’t have been easy for him, just as it hadn’t been easy for you to think he was being unfaithful.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask him as he leans his body against yours, his face buried in your hair in relief, “it’s been years, Pete, you could’ve trusted me with this…”

He lifts his head, only enough so he could press his forehead to yours, “I do trust you,” he says, “but I also love you more than life itself, so I have to protect you above anything else. There’s a lot of people out there who wanna hurt me, and I will not let them use you to do it. I can’t do that to you.”

“Pete trusting me with something like this isn’t damning me to being a damsel in distress,” you inform him carefully, using your hands to gently swipe his messy hair from his eyes.

The apartment was dimly lit, something you’d always complained about, but you could see his face clear as day as he clung to you in the kitchen light. His brown eyes glossy with tears, the freckles dotting his cheeks that you counted when you couldn’t sleep. You though your knew everything about him, every part of him, but he had been hiding an entirely differen life from you. A life that couldn’t have been easy to shoulder all on his own. You couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for hiding from you only to protect you.

“I couldn’t risk it,” he admits, his voice as soft as the light above you, “but I also couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking that I didn’t love you with every cell in my body. I needed you to know the truth even if you still left.”

You shake your head against his, “this isn’t going to drive me away, Pete,” you assure him, palms coming to a rest on his cheeks, “what’ll drive me away is the lies. Promise me no more lies, Pete, please.”

He’s nodding his head before you can even finish the sentence, “No more,” he says, “no more lies or secrets, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You believed him. Not just because you wanted to, but because you could feel that me meant it. Every doubt that you’d had in your head is flooded away as you make the first move to kiss him. His lips were as soft as they always were, his movements just as gentle. He was still your Peter, the same guy you fell in love with over Leo’s pizza. He leans forward, pinning you against the counter so he get a solid grip on your waist.

He hoists you up with one hand, and you can’t help but gasp as he lands your butt on the counter without blinking. He chuckles at your reaction, settling himself between your knees in your shock.

“You’ve been hiding this the whole time?” you ask, now more interested than anything else. You lock your legs around his hips, “Pete, we could’ve been having some real fun with this.”

Peter grins, “Trust me, I know, I’ve had a few dreams about it.”

182 notes · View notes

cipheress-to-k-pop · 2 years

Text

Tell Me Something (Drabble)

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader (Drabble)

A/N: Daddy's getting hot at the daily bugle body shop

"Tell me something." Dick murmured, hands grazing over your thighs as you climbed into his lap, knees on either sides of his hips. You hummed and leaned in to kiss him lightly.

"I can tell you a secret." You said, remembering a particular bit of juicy gossip you had been waiting to tell him. When you were reminded, you couldn't help the giggles that began leaving you.

"Alright, go ahead."

Your eyes raised in mock offense, "What? No payment? Even the thugs in Gotham get paid better for information."

He chuckled, cupping your cheek with one hand and pulling you in for a long kiss. You sighed happily and gently threaded your fingers through his hair, overwhelmed by the scent of his shampoo.

When you pulled away, he was giving you a lazy smile which you returned, softly capturing his lips one last time before pulling away.

"Are you gonna tell me now?"

You nodded, readjusting yourself in his lap and resting your hands on his chest, "Remember that internship I did at the Daily Bugle?"

He chuckled at your bright grin, "Those three weeks where you were so far away from me I could feel my heart breaking in my chest with each passing second? Hm, not at all."

Your eyes softened at him. He was always so cute, it had your stomach turning into knots. He was rewarded for his sweetness with another kiss.

"Well, I got a piece of juicy gossip about a certain reporter while I was there."

"Are you gonna tell me? Or are you gonna keep dancing around the topic when it looks like you're clearly going to explode if you don't—"

"Clark has a reputation for being the office slut!" You exclaimed happily, bursting into flurries of giggles after that and he was so dumbstruck that he couldn't even respond for a good second.

"What?"

Your giggles trailed off as you nodded, "Well, he's always having one on one interviews with so many heroes and famous people like Wonder Woman and Oliver Queen. And they've seen him come out of his office with messy hair, buttons done incorrectly on his shirt and some even ripped off." You explained, smirking at the implication and double meanings that only the two of you would understand.

He was laughing hard, gripping your thighs as he leaned his head back on the couch. You smiled at him, leaning in to place a warm kiss on his neck before you pulled away again.

"It gets better."

"How could it possibly—"

"They think he's having an affair with someone." You began, pursing your lips to try and control your giant smile and Dick felt butterflies erupt from his stomach at the sight of you. You were so gorgeous, smiling brightly at him while you tried to make him laugh.

"With who?"

"Well, who does he meet very often? Someone who always seems like they're hiding something? Someone who is painfully single because of the unrequited love with a married reporter?"

His eyes widened and an evil smirk spread on his face, "You don't mean—"

You cackled, slapping your hands on his chest, "Superman's having an affair with your dad!"

3K notes · View notes

mavigator · 10 months

Text

i also like to imagine jonah has absolutely zero strong opinions on any vigilante that isn’t spider-man. just complete uninterested neutrality. it’s not vigilantism he has a problem with, it’s just spider-man. daredevil waltzes in to the bugle to say hi to his buddy ben urich and jonah barely raises an eyebrow because, well, daredevil didn’t dangle jonah out a window or break his desk in half or web him to the ceiling so who cares. no don’t interview daredevil nobody wants to read that. yes interview the random guy outside that says spider-man pulled all the plumbing out of his walls. put that shit on the front page. somebody get me a cigar the size of my forearm before i lose it. where’s parker

#comics

338 notes · View notes

semperamans · 2 months

Note

going to one of those celebratory parties at the base when the 100th boys make it home safe from another mission. you’re gale’s girl and of course had to be at the party to celebrate their success. gale being gale kinda hangs back while everyone else gets drunk and rowdy and has fun, and bucky being bucky has tried over and over to get him to actually join in. that’s not to say gale hasn’t gotten up and danced with you for the songs “boogie woogie bugle boy” and “just one more chance”, but he’s quiet and thoughtful so he just sits and watches mostly. but then frank sinatra’s song “people will say we’re in love comes on and gale is immediately up and guiding you to the dance floor. it’s sweet and slow and gentle and you have your head on his shoulder and he’s got one hand on your waist and the other holding your own hand. and you’re just swaying softly around the other couples. and then gale speaks quietly and with care.

“so whatdya say; you wanna get married?”

and you pause for just a second before looking up at him with a gentle smile and saying “sounds good to me.” and you both return to your positions and keep dancing :(((

:'( oh i will actually start sobbing.

this life is a strange one and the age is peculiar, but you have found tender joy in the flicker of gale's smile. these parties are deliriously fun, but a bittersweet sorrow lingers like wayward ghosts. to celebrate the homecoming of a few serves as a reminder of those who were not as fortunate and it's not lost on you how easily you could lose the man whose fingertips delicately drum against your hip. he is so here, so present it is hard to imagine that ever not being the case because my oh my, how you love him. your sweet gale with the kindest eyes and gentle spirit. your darling gale who asks the question you've wanted to hear since you met and it's then you know that he will always come back to you. gale doesn't make promises he can't keep.

"sounds good to me,"

gale's smile is so serene - so fond - that your heart lurches into your throat. how is it that you found such beauty amid ruin? your mother raised you under the constant reminder that princes were fictitious and that storybook love was unattainable but she had no idea that gale cleven existed. gee, even you have a hard time believing he exists sometimes, but he's there. right there. his solid chest pressed to your ear as he sings ella fitzgerald's words into your hair.

your hand feels so grand in mine, people will say we are in love.

and you are.

#clo answers #austin butler #gale cleven #masters of the air #mota x reader #gale cleven x reader #✈️#✍🏼

32 notes · View notes

bucknastysbabe · 2 years

Text

5 + 1 Times Buck’s GF was the crybaby and the one time she wasn’t

Rating: Regular, smut only in one part

Word Count: 4,037

Tags: FLUFFY FLUFF, smut in one part, pnv!sex, soft tender luvin, Bucky is Vry Vry sweet, but he do be laughing at the reader, reader is oversensitive, and also a journalist for the Bugle aka How?, bucks haters get flamed, crying over spilt milk literally, some angst, TW: ptsd, J.Jonah Jameson is out there somewhere shaking his head at his employee

1. In the arms of the angels- FLY AWAYYYY

Bucky could safely say that his precious, precious girl could be somewhat oversensitive. He liked that about her, having someone around who was extremely caring and kind. The former Winter Soldier would be lying if he claimed that he knew how to handle her spells every time.

Although Bucky gotten better over the time they had been together.

They were cuddled on his new, much bigger couch on a lazy Sunday. His girlfriend wore one of Bucky’s t-shirts, the cloth hanging down to her soft thighs. She was spooned against the brunette, head padded on his flesh bicep. The random movie they had been watching went to a commercial. Bucky’s eyes widened when he realized what exactly kind of commercial it was.

The depressing ass ASPCA advertisement. His girlfriend donated to the local humane society and multiple non-profits but would lose her ever loving shit over the poor pets. Bucky instinctively curled his other arm around her waist when the sad song came on. His girl sniffled, “Oh god, I hate this!”

He murmured, “C’mon just look at your phone baby.”

Her sniffles turned into sobs, bemoaning, “I don’t understand how people could do that to the poor animals! It’s ah-ah-awful!” Bucky frowned, vibranium thumb rubbing circles into her hip. He reassured her, “Sweetheart, we about donate to the entirety of Brooklyn. You’re doing good.”

One of her fists banged on his thigh. She cried, “I need to donate to the entirety of the United States!” Bucky’s lips curled up in slight amusement. As much as he hated to see his best girl cry, it was entertaining to see her fit. He shushed her, “Okay we will, s’not like I’m a broke fugitive anymore.” The girl’s watery eyes flicked up to his smirk.

She poked him at an awkward angle, croaking, “Don’t say that about yourself!”

He tried to keep a calm face but ended up snickering. To which Bucky received another annoyed poke and a scoff. Thankfully the ad was done by the time she turned back to the TV. Bucky kissed her hairline and said, “Okay then, no more waterworks and I won’t trash my name. We’ll go buy another damn pound out later.” She seemed to relax, snuggling tight into Bucky’s larger frame.

2. On the floor

A shriek and a crash echoed from the kitchen. Bucky threw down his tattered book and hopped up. He hoped his girlfriend didn’t injure herself, again. The super soldier slid into the kitchen, blue eyes surveying the scene. He half-shouted, “You okay?“

“NO!,” came the distressed reply.

Bucky’s poor girl was half soaked and milk covered the floor, the gallon leaking onto the tile. His brows raised at the mess, hand rubbing at his neck. She threw her hands up and squalled, but made no move to escape the flood.

“I just wanted to make some cereal and the stupid damn jug slipped from my hands!,” she cried.

Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes. This would be the second time she had cried over spilt milk, literally. He strode across the kitchen and picked the sobbing woman up, her arms wrapping around his neck, assuming koala protocol. Or at least that’s what the loon called it.

The brunette rubbed her heaving back, cooing, “Oh poor baby, s’no big deal. I’ll go get another gallon from down the street, okay?” She looked up at him and began crying harder. The distraught woman whined, “No! I screwed it up being a klutz I’ll go get it!”

Bucky lowered them onto a dining room chair, wiping her tears away. He shook his head, eyeing her adorably blotchy cheeks. She pouted, tears lessening in time. The brunette hummed, “Jus’ let me go get the damn milk. You had an accident, I can’t have my pitiful girl crying over actual spilt milk.”

She laid her head in the crook of Bucky’s shoulder, grumbling, “It’s so damn sticky. This is gonna take forever to clean!” Bucky nuzzled her sweet smelling hair, smiling softly. She was too soft for her own good. But that’s why he was here, of course.

Her achingly wide eyes were back peering at Buck. He raised a thick brow, waiting for a response. Slim hands grabbed his stubbled cheeks, asking in a deadpan, “You don’t think I’m the most worthless girl ever right?” She averted her eyes as she continued, “Idiot who can’t make cereal.”

Bucky leaned into her sullen face to capture trembling lips into a kiss. It was chaste and sweet, Bucky murmuring into her lips, “I don’t care if you grew into a hulk monster and crashed the place. Why don’t we clean up and go grab the milk, make it a date huh?”

The brunette bit back a laugh as she hugged him tighter and sobbed out how much she loved him. Bucky tucked her hair back and grinned down at his pretty, crybaby, best girl.

3. Feline fail

Bucky and his girlfriend were cooking dinner together. They were laughing and sharing sweet pecks, bumping hips and slinging sauce. Bucky had remembered an old lasagna recipe and wanted to try it. She obliged with glee.

She changed the song to one of those strange ‘rap’ songs. Bucky was still getting accustomed to the 80’s power music so this was out of his league. She talked along to the lyrics, using a spoon as her microphone. Bucky leaned against the counter, helplessly grinning, hopelessly in love. She did a twist and some weird footwork.

MREOOOWWWW

“Alpine!,” they simultaneously shouted.

The poor cat had run off heavily limping. Bucky cursed, “Ah, shit.” The woman dropped the spatula and went after the fluffy white cat. She frantically apologized, “Alpine! Alpie! I’m so sorry baby! Oh god I didn’t mean to step on your paw babygirl!” Bucky wanted to point out the feline did not understand but held his tongue.

He followed his girlfriend into a back bedroom, then to the walk-in closet. Poor doll was in hysterics now. She wailed, “I’m the worst! What if I broke her paw? Just kill me n-n-nOWWWW!”

Bucky grabbed the sweet thing and hushed her, “Stop howling, Alpine is probably overwhelmed. Let’s be quiet and calmly approach.”

She nodded with a sniffle, mascara running down reddened cheeks. Bucky flicked the light on and softly called, “Alp, Alpine? Pspspsps c’mere baby.” He waggled his fingers at his shoe stand. Slowly the big blue eyes of Alpine came into view. The cat let out a sad ‘maaaoow’. She sucked in a wet sob behind Bucky, little hands fisted into his shirt.

Bucky crouched further down, keeping his palm extended. He cooed, “Over here psps Alpine.” Alpine unfurled from the shoe stand, limping over to the couple. Tears dripped down the young woman’s face as she let the sweet cat sniff her palm and nuzzle against it. She sniveled, “Ohhh- Alpine, m’so sorry,” Bucky was poked as she continued, “Buck? Can you check the paw out?”

Bucky grunted, “Yep. I’m sure she’ll be fine, just a smush and got startled. Bucky picked the white feline up, huge hands so tender with Alpine’s tiny paw. He gave it a few tentative presses and the cat squirmed in pain, making another sad noise. Bucky turned to look at his girlfriend and said, “Yeah I think she might be injured. We can take her to the vet in the morning. Probably just wants to lay down.”

After putting their pet back into the shoe stand, Bucky had stage three to do; console the distraught angel. She had already retreated to the bedroom, cocooning under her copious amounts of fluffy blankets. Bucky had bought them due to supersoldier heat and the ensuing thermostat on the coldest setting possible.

Bucky crawled onto the end of the bed, calling out, “Are you burrowing away from me?”

“Yes. I am the worst. Throw me into the snow already.”

Bucky crawled closer to the familiar lump and teased, “I don’t think paw stomping is equal to hypothermia.”

“It should be.”

His pink lips split into a grin as Buck yanked her blankets back and hopped on top. She squealed and batted at him, howling, “Not funny you jerk! Poor Alpine is hurt!” Bucky laughed, “Poor Alpine has been in shootouts, she’s a-okay.”

She stared up at his stupidly handsome face and pouted. Bucky’s big hands slid up her waist, commenting, “I’ll give you something to cry about if that’s what’cha want babydoll.” His dick never failed to throb at her cute little hitch in breath, pupils blowing wide.

“W-what about the lasagna?”

Bucky licked a hot stripe up her neck, promising, “Oh, this won’t be long. A little pick-me-up for my babydoll.” Her irritated huff quickly turned into a moan. Bucky grinned. So damn cute.

4. Never alone

Bucky had been having trouble sleeping recently, recurring nightmares plaguing any chance of shut eye. His girlfriend worried over him, offering any sort of help. He shook his head, eyes tired, explaining, “It comes in waves, certain times or seasons activate the trauma.”

“Okay, I just wish you didn’t have to sleep on the floor. But whatever will make you more comfortable.”

She wrung her hands nervously, pretty lips curled into a frown. Bucky sighed, patting his lap. He held her tightly and whispered, “I never wanna hurt you, so just for a little bit it’ll be like this okay? I promise, it hurts me too.” She wiped away runny tears, nodding resolutely. His precious baby warbled, “I’m being selfish, don’t mind me prattling and whining. I want what’s best for you. I love you so much,” she pinched Bucky’s thigh, “Go back to therapy tomorrow or I’ll drag you there.”

“I will,” he pecked her lips, “I will.”

They went to their separate beds, well their bed, and Bucky’s blanket and pillow on the floor. He managed to drift off before spinning cycling never ending loops of the Soldier killing and taking swamped his dreams. The asset shot upright with a painful howl, jerking his head around for the enemy.

He jumped up and grabbed a stashed knife, stalking across the floor. So confused on the lines between reality and fiction. He snarled at the sound of a high voice. It was his girl. Bucky was Bucky. Not the asset, soldier, fist of Hydra. He dropped the knife and apologized, “Oh Christ. Are you okay?” He was scared to come closer upon the fear etched into her looks. Fucking monster.

She ran to him and wrapped warm arms around his sweaty torso, crying softly. Bucky couldn’t find words to express his disgust and sorrow, holding her back tightly. His angel croaked, “I was worried about you! I’m s-sorry you had that awful nightmare. Oh Buck, let me sit with you for the rest of the night.”

Bucky peered down with resigned blue eyes. He was more exhausted now after that mind fuck. The brunette needed to get his poor baby to stop crying then maybe he could sleep. Even the cat nervously peered from behind a chair.

They migrated to the couch, her firm on top of him, gently scratching his scalp. Bucky pled, “Please know I would never hurt you. As soon as I heard your voice I knew where I was again.” She pressed her forehead to his and replied, “Then let’s just try this. You don’t have to go through this alone, ever.” She cried in little aborted huffs, trying to hold it together.

Bucky felt his heart swell at her sweet words. She was right, he didn’t have to be alone again. He had friends and his best girl who loved him, hell even the cat. Bucky squeezed her soft waist and gushed, “I love you, so, so, so much. Sweet girl.” He got a couple more tears but soon she became sleepy and winded down.

He managed to fall back into slumber, no dreams this time. Her scent and puffs of soft breath kept him grounded. Bucky hoped he deserved this, praying to whoever granted him this boon.

5. Honey I’m Home! - Smut

Sam hollered out of his big ass truck, “Get ready for the waterworks lover boy!” Bucky held up his middle finger and unlocked the front door. Sam drove away with that annoying guffaw of his. Bucky dropped his bags at the door, Alpine’s blue eyes peering up. He grinned and picked up the kitty, cooing and petting her white fluff. Bucky asked, “Hey, sweet Alp. Where’s mama hm? I know she’s all excited.”

“BABY!,” came the familiar cry. Bucky had to owe it to his supersoldier serum for managing to gently let down Alpine and pick up his girlfriend within 10 seconds. Bucky laughed and picked the woman up, happily swinging them around with a goofy grin. His heart felt so full. She spoke through hefty sobs, “I- Oh gah-ah-ah some pi-pizz-za!” Bucky chuckled and tapped her on the ass.

“The waterworks already angel? So soon?”

“YOU KNOW I MISS-SS-SED YOU!,” she caterwauled, loading Bucky’s face down with kisses. He used a big hand to stabilize her head, sealing his full lips over her shaky ones. She sighed into the lip lock, rambling about how much she missed Bucky between kisses.

Bucky pulled back and hummed, “I missed your pretty face, even the tears.” She nipped his lower lip at the jab, retorting, “Very fu-funny!”

The former assassin chuckled, “No really, I get to hug you.”

She narrowed her eyes, wiping her wet cheeks, “Uh-huh.”

Bucky lowered his lids and gave his best charming half smirk to her, purring, “Y’know what I really miss?” He groped at the globes of her ass gently, eating up her reaction. She gasped, minutely squirming, lashes fluttering. Bucky leant into her ear, humming, “Hm baby? Not gonna ask me?”

She murmured sulkily, “What is it Buck?”

He drew his words out, fanning hot breath across her ear, “I miss the way you cry and rake my back bloody when I’m between those damn thighs.”

“Mmfuck, oh, yeah?,” she squeaked, face heating up. Bucky nodded, long fingers massaging the giving flesh of her cheeks. He rumbled, “Yep sweet baby, couldn’t help myself. So pretty when you come on me. Pizza can wait, I want my girl.” The woman nodded profusely, babbling, “Pleaseplease yes wan’ it Bucky. Missed you!”

In a frenzy she lapped into his plump mouth, kissing like a madwoman. Bucky’s best kept secret is the needy little slut he only gets to have in bed. He stopped to push her against the wall, nosing around at her tits. Bucky’s Henley she wore had slipped down, displaying the soft skin. He lapped at a swollen bud and suckled on her tit, earning a high whine and fingers in his steadily growing hair.

Bucky rutted against her barely clothed pussy, feeling it already damp. He rumbled, “Must’ve been real needy dolly, so wet for me.” She shoved her breasts into his face, gasping out, “Not the same w’out you- ah!” Bucky’s eyes rolled back in his head, her words stoking the fires of that possessive place in his heart.

She pulled at his brown hair, urging Bucky along desperately, hips canting against his need. The super soldier panted, “Yeah, yeah, right m’bad.” He stomped to their bedroom, grinning and kissing her hotly. Bucky laid his girlfriend down and frantically began to untie his boots, throwing them against the wall. His eyes flickered up to her yanking off the shirt.

A punched out groan left his throat when her glistening pussy was revealed to him, panties tossed carelessly to the side. Bucky shucked down his briefs and climbed between her thighs, muttering, “Fuckin’ hell— thought about you every night. Pretty pussy,” he pressed his lips to her thighs, “Legs, all of you. Damn.”

Her wide eyes softened, the girl simpering, “Thought ‘bout you too babe, most handsome guy in the world.” Bucky snorted as he pressed himself flush to her smaller body, “I don’t know about that, I do know that I’m yours though.” She smiled against his cheek, wrapping arms around his wide shoulders. Bucky sighed at the feeling of his baby’s gentle kisses to his scruffy skin.

“You want to wear a condom, me stretch you out?,” Bucky asked, eyes searching her own.

She shook her head and whispered, “Got an IUD, I’ll explain later but we don’t have to wear any condoms,” lips grew wider, “So go on and fuck me Buck.” Bucky groaned in ecstasy, situating himself flush to giving flesh. He pumped his leaking cock a couple of times before rubbing the tip against her slick entrance.

She whined and scrabbled at his back, spreading open wider, pleading, “Yeah, yeah, please Bucky, James, baby.” He replied, strained from how adorable and sexy that was, “I gotcha, hold on, fuck.”

They both cried out softly when Bucky slid in to her warm core, the noise filling the room. The brunette braced a hand beside her head, cursing lowly, “God-fucking-damn you feel so good sweets.” She whined his name, face scrunching up adorably, pussy pulsing around him.

Bucky’s flesh hand curled under the back of one of her knees, pushing the girl wider open with a grunt. He pecked her lips and began to piston into her. His blues fell closed, the rapture of being joined with his love was intense. Even more so when some asshole jacked him with the serum. She cooed softly, “Feels- ah, so good, my sweet Buck.”

He didn’t speed up, as much as the soldier wanted to jackhammer into tomorrow. He would enjoy this reunion, savor every pull of her sweet pussy around his cock. Bucky leaned into her forehead, panting into her mouth, soaking up her cries and whimpers. She gave desperate little kisses, pulling at the hair on Bucky’s nape.

“Ah! Love you!,” she moaned.

Bucky panted back, “Love you, so damn much, fffuck.”

He nuzzled into her neck, listening to himself spread her open with a groan. Selfishly, Bucky sped his hips up some, got his knees under him. That way he could fuck his baby’s g-spot, make her (really) cry. His girlfriend responded quickly, arching her back and jerking back onto Bucky’s cock. A slew up goosebumps lit up her skin, mouth hanging wide open. She scrunched her eyes shut, yelling, “Oh- oh that’s it!”

Bucky crooned, licking up her sweaty throat, “Yeah sweetheart? That’s your spot?” She nodded and babbled hitched ‘yesses’. The girl tightened around him, making the drag impossibly hotter. Bucky whined deep in his chest, strokes stuttering. He brought his vision up to look at his love, whining again at her flushed face and hooded eyes.

She whimpered, “M’so close James, oh god!” Tears pricked pretty eyes, clumping the long lashes. Bucky picked up the pace, relishing in her nails ripping his back to shreds. He would lying if he said the pain didn’t exacerbate the pleasure. The brunette gently nipped at her jaw, begging for his girl to come, hand rubbing at her chest and shoulders tenderly.

Bucky’s eyes about crossed when she tightened and howled around his swollen cock. His hand tore at the mattress while her pussy convulsed around him. She sobbed now, tears leaking down her darkened cheeks, “F-fuck Bucky! S-so good!” Her slick coated him, making the glide ever so messier.

Bucky was close now, listening to her pants and whiny cries of ‘come in me please’ was throttling any sort of longevity. His balls drew painfully close, the vein on the underside of his cock throbbing. He cried her name out, muscles seizing with a twitch, emptying into her tight cunt. Bucky’s fingers seemed to lose their motor function, arm careening with a whine. She heaved, “That’s it! Yes! Yes!”

The soldier sucked in a rough breath, finishing his climax with a soft whimper. Bucky rolled them to the side, softening cock still seating inside her. She pressed kisses to his cheeks and nose, smiling and crying per usual. Bucky wrapped his big arms around her waist and kept her flush to him. He murmured, “Perfect baby, jus’ perfect.” She responded with another stolen kiss.

+1. Public Menace!

They sat together at a restaurant, sipping some drinks. Bucky eyed his beautiful girlfriend, effortlessly styled and flawless. He told her so, earning a bashful smile and roll of the eyes. She countered, “Not as flawless as you, Winter Smolder.” Bucky narrowed his eyes, laughing, “Hey, you wanted me to do that photoshoot!”

The waiter came up with their appetizer. Bucky could tell his girlfriend was not a fan of the other man, lips turned down. She was a good judge of character though. The young man had been staring Bucky down for awhile now, even pointing at him from afar. The brunette furrowed his brows and asked, “Can I help or anything?”

The waiter replied, assuming a defensive stance, “Are you the Winter Soldier?”

Bucky felt his girl’s glare threatening to kill the boy. He offered a sheepish smile and elaborated, “Uh- at one point I was. Not anymore.” The man pressed harder, “Yeah but he’s still in there right?,” they motioned at their skull, “Just a couple of words and you snap right?”

Bucky blanched, but the knife didn’t stop digging in his chest, twisting and hot.

“How were you allowed to be pardoned? I mean The Avengers already are at death’s door, why not let a mass murderer join?,” they hissed. Bucky tried to look around for help, stammering an apology. Panic began to lace at his chest, pulling his throat tight. Their mouth was moving angrily, but all Buck could hear was ringing.

A familiar hand gripped at his, her voice clearing through the attack. His girlfriend calmly replied, “I should report your manager for harassing customers, sir.” She leaned in with a snarl, “What would you do if you were captured by a secret agency embedded within the United States for 75 years huh? Beaten, brainwashed, tortured, and forced to hurt others with no say?”

The waiter attempted to retort but she cut him off with a hand.

“Luckily Bucky here,” she poked the man’s chest, “Has a name! His name has been cleared and has worked very hard on amends. If you got your head out of your ass and looked around maybe you’d see the good work him and Cap have done around the globe!” Bucky’s girlfriend jerked into her purse and threw a bill at the dumbfounded man.

“C’mon sweetheart, we’ll go somewhere else,” she stood up and loudly announced, “I’ll make sure to give my nicest review in the DAILY BUGLE!!!”

The young waiter gasped and stared in a fog.

Bucky shuffled along, still gathering his wits. He’d never seen his girl so pissed. Once outside the restaurant she hugged him tightly, cursing, “Fucking asshole. Sorry I went a little crazy. Jameson would be proud, ha.” Meanwhile the brunette was blinking away tears, grateful for her swift save. He blurted, more of a croak, “Thank you angel.” Suddenly his eyes were blurry with hot tears.

Bucky sobbed in her arms, the panic, shame, and embarrassment from earlier breaking down. The woman soothed him with a shush, rubbing his muscular back. She cooed, “That’s okay, let it out, about time for you to be the crier.” Bucky smiled slightly, eyeing her with red rims. She swiped away his tear, stating, “Don’t ever let an idiot like that make you feel less than, you are good.”

Bucky shook his head, murmuring, “Does everybody still think I’m about to snap?”

She raised a brow, “Buck. The amount of good press you got from the GRC debacle has shown you in a different light,” she laughed, “I can write puff pieces of you napping with the cat if that makes you feel better baby?” He swatted her ass with a roll of teary eyes, thanking his girlfriend again.

Bucky asked, “D’ya just wanna order in instead? I’ll rub your feet.”

“Free of charge, no foot rubs, let’s go home big guy,” she shrugged. Bucky would be a little weepy for the rest of the night, but she made it bearable.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #fluff

514 notes · View notes

trashytoastboi · 2 years

Note

hello hello! may I ask for ace, sabo and sanji getting a blowjob from their s/o who is hiding under the desk during a meeting (or something to that effect)? Hope this is okay to ask! thank you! <3

Heyya!🍞 sure thing! I originally was going to do headcanons then they ended up as little scenarios 🤣 hope you enjoy~ 🍀

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Gender Neutral)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NSFW Scenarios: Ace, Sabo, Sanji getting a blowjob from their S/O who is hiding under the desk during a meeting (Or something to that effect)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🍋Warning: NSFW - (Oral sex, Public, Face fucking- think that's it 🤣)

Total word count: 2,503

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔥 Portgas D. Ace 🔥

Word count: 725 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ace went into the room where they would chart the courses, keep the maps and overall the best place to be when you're planning a solo adventure. Especially when one needs a little brushing up of geography. {Name} came into the room during their ventures to find Ace and decided to ask where he was planning on heading to this time. "Just looking for someone... you know how it is" Ace replied, holding a carefree smile and giving {Name} a light peck. {Name} returns with a longer kiss, maybe one with a little evident hinting. Ace raises an eyebrow, the intentions were pretty transparent but who was he to deny his partner. He leaned in and gave another kiss, one a little deeper and heated. However relatively tame considering the two of them. Ace pulled {Name} closer, stumbling into the table in the process. {Name} smiled at seeing just how eager Ace acted, they grabbed the bugle protruding from his shorts and caught him off guard. The moan that left his lips was quite surprising and louder than usual. A sly smile rested on {Name's} lips "My my, you're quite sensitive today~" they teased, slipping a hand into his shorts to stroke his cock. Ace felt tempted to take it a step further, maybe bending {Name} over the table... before anything could happen, the door rattled and pushed open.

Marco steps into the room, surprised to see Ace standing over the map table, concentrating very hard on what was in front of him. That was from Marco's perspective, from Ace's perspective he saw {Name} kneeling in front of him. An evil look in their eye and their hands rubbing his thighs, {Name} quietly undid his shorts. Planting a few feather light kisses all the way up to his sensitive point. Ace's eyes practically showed panic he wanted to shake his head in protest because Marco was right there. Noticing this and choosing to ignore it, {Name} gave a few enticing kitty licks to his already sensitive cock. They wanted to laugh at seeing how desperately his legs were shaking. Ace nearly moans when he feels what {Name} is doing, his nails dig into the table and he curses under his breath. Marco looks over to see Ace and notices he looked like he's not feeling too hot, "Are you alright-yoi?" Maybe due to being a doctor Marco asked a question in all seriousness due to his crewmates odd actions. Ace flashes a grin "I-I'm fine... think I just caught a cold" Ace's word came out more strained and breathy than he would have liked. "Only idiots catch colds in summer" Marco retorted. At that moment, {Name} picks up the pace. Drawing long strokes of his cock, taking him into their mouth, out and tracing their tongue up his length and around the head. Making sure to capitalize on every weak spot he has. All the while Ace is trying to hold a relatively decent conversation with Marco. {Name} only grows more devious, concentrating on maximizing their capabilities but still keeping it quiet. It's definitely worth it, seeing Ace so flustered and trying so hard is terribly cute. {Name} brought their hands into the mix, stroking his cock while focusing their mouth on his head. Once they learned all the secret spots Ace enjoyed being touched, it became ever so easy to toy with him. Ace keeled over the table, accidentally biting his tongue to stay quiet. Marco began taking steps towards him to see if he needed help or lost his balance due to his cold, Ace chuckled showing an innocent expression to Marco. "I just bit my tongue" Ace stuck out his tongue and the little red droplets seemed to proved his point. {Name} felt him getting close, and they just decided to drive him to that edge faster. At Ace's nervous face, Marco sighed and shook his head "Finish up and go rest, or else I'm sending {Name} your way-yoi." "S-sure..." Ace sighed, his hands weaved into {Name's}hair, pulling them away and gritting his teeth hard to keep his sounds contained. He looked down to see them smiling up at him, innocent as an angel and their face covered with his cum. "Seriously {Name} what am I going to do with you?..." Ace sighed, "Well rest, doctors orders you know..." they chirped back.

🎩 Sabo 🎩

Word Count: 720 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sabo signed off on another document, set aside and picked up another. {Name} sat in his lap, dying of boredom while waiting for Sabo to finish his work. It seems the only time they would be together was when {Name} watched him working. They huffed, trying to display their boredom in the hopes Sabo would pay attention. He just smiled and carried on working. "Just wait a little more love, I need to finish this before the meeting." Sabo stated, as he did every other day. Paperwork came first. {Name} didn't want to admit that they were getting jealous over his work, but at this point they couldn't deny it. Just how long had it been since they spent proper time together? {Name} clasped his face in their hands and pulled him in for a fervent kiss. "Mm...love, behave now and I'll spoil you later." Sabo replied, nonchalantly brushing them off for more accursed paperwork. Sabo was like this now because he was in work mode, but if one were to...flip his switch then Sabo would be the one to act on his desire. {Name} decided to change their strategy, no more subtle hints but an outright show of what they want. They straddled him, their legs dangled on either side of his chair, not the most comfortable position but it would do for now. Sabo tried to keep his mind solely on his work despite {Name} nibbling and kissing his neck, dragging their mouth down to his chest and grinding on him, all of it was starting to get him a little hot and bothered. {Name} could tell that Sabo was starting to get affected with their little plan, they stood up and slid down to rest between his legs and shuffled to situate themselves in the space under the the desk. They unbuttoned his pants, with all due confidence saying "I'll take care of this for you~" {Name} didn't tease, but headed straight into the main course. Sabo leaned his head back, chuckling "What a little tease." Sabo sighed, getting caught up with the pleasure, so much so he forgot to keep an eye on the time. When the intrusive knock on the door proved to indicate the time of the meeting. Sabo looked at {Name}, he readjusted his position "Be good for me and take care of that love" Sabo whispered before calling out to the door "Come in."

The people filled the room and each took their assigned seats at the long table. Thus began the meeting. Sabo held an annoyingly perfect poker face, he looked completely unfazed. It would doubtful that anyone could ever guess he had his partner under the desk, giving him head right then and there. {Name} was determined to see him crack and watch his facade crumble, they tried their best to deep throat him. Taking as much of his thick cock as they possible could manage, the ferver and unexpected feeling caught him off guard. {Name} dug their nails into his thighs, Sabo coughed trying to stifle the groan that wanted to escape him. He cast a quick glance down to see {Name} practically glowing with that stupid smirk, knowing exactly what they were doing. The meeting droned one, Sabo subtley reached his hand under the desk and grabbed {Name's} head, forcibly taking control and setting the pace. He wanted to curse aloud, his thoughts filled with a variety of swear words as the tension that had been building came undone, his body shuddered with the pleasure, {Name} wanted to pull away due to how much he had cum in their mouth, Sabo was more pent up than he let on. Sabo bit his lip hard, containing any suspicious sounds and put his head down. Those in the meeting had just assumed he was deep in thought. Looking down at his partner he flashed a sweet and mischievous smile before mouthing the word "Swallow" even though {Name} was the one started it, he was the one who finished. Seeing his partner all teary eyed and flustered proved amusing. Thankfully the meeting finally decided to wrap up and everyone left. The moment the door closed, Sabo stood up, pulling {Name} towards him and pushing them into his chair, he sunk to his knees and sweetly stated "Time to return the favour~"

🍽 Sanji 🍽

Word count: 1,058 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji whisked around the kitchen, doing so many different things simultaneously while preparing lunch for the crew. {Name} popped their head in, wanting just a little pre-lunch snack. Sanji smiled when he saw his beloved, lurking around the kitchen wanting to ask for a snack. He fed them bits and pieces, lots of little taste tests whole preparing the meals and hoping it would satiate their appetite. After having their fill, enough to stop the grumbling {Name} offered to help, slipping on one of Sanji's spare aprons. Sanji's eyes practically burst seeing his partner dressed in an apron, it was a bit of a fantasy of his. Noticing his heart filled eyes, {Name} giggled and easily saw through his thoughts. They decided to quote the famous "Do you want dinner, a bath, or me?~♡" {Name} accentuated their last suggesting with a little kiss. Sanji's nose dripped with a steady stream of blood, {Name} was quick to help him stop it, despite his constant chanting of "You, you, you, want you."

"So you chose me hmm" {Name} purred, running their hands down his chest, pressing a very light but alluring kiss to his lips. Poor Sanji was already entranced, even with the short kiss they could taste his cigarettes. {Name} felt something pressing into them, noticing Sanji's antsy puppy expression and his reddened cheeks. "I guess you really do want me" they teased, seeing how hard he got from a mere kiss. Sanji settled his expression opting to take a sauve approach "I think after lunch, we should have some dessert..

Just the two of us" he took a hold of their hand and placed a quick peck with a hinting glint in his eye. "Well I'm not opposed to giving you an entrée" {Name} teased, their hands prodded at the growing bulge in his pants, Sanji chuckled, he wasn't going to say no... but their location wasn't exactly safe. Quite open and easy to get caught. "That's dangerous..." he sighed, {Name} feigned innocence and looked at him with those eyes, while their teeth caught his zipper and pulled it down. Sanji is a man that appreciated the effort of a show after all. Their hands skillfully made quick work of his pants, {Name} decided a little teasing was due. Leaving a trail of hickies all over his thighs, little marks of their presence and affections. The teasing was driving Sanji mad, the way they led up right he wanted them and {Name} would retreat, kissing somewhere else. The anticipation, the build up and the anti-climax. He tried to pour his focus into cooking, and finishing the meals as opposed to the tempting show right before him. {Name} taunted his desires, barely touching but occasionally making 'accidental' contact. They mouthed lightly, giving little kisses to his cock but nothing to drive him up the wall just yet. Sanji couldn't bring himself to tell them to stop, he really didn't want {Name} to stop despite having them contribute to a different kind of appetite. {Name} gave his cock nothing but very light touches, little kisses and just watched as Sanji slowly started losing his mind with frustration and desire. Sanji lit another cigarette, forcing his mind to concentrate on cooking, as if the timing couldn't be more terrible the door swung open. Luffy rushed in, followed by Zoro, Chopper and Franky. {Name} held a devilish grin on their lips "Better keep quiet if you don't want them to hear you."

Immediately after their 'warning', they sucked Sanji's cock into their mouth. The feeling of the warmth and wetness gave both reprieve and torture, considering the amount of restraint Sanji needed to exercise right now...it wasn't easy. Luffy dragged his feet to the seat, groaning about dying from hunger and wanting to know the specifics of when food would be ready. "In a while....I decided to make dessert too so it's taking longer" Sanji's voice sounded ragged, a growl of frustration practically stuck in his throat. Sanji hoped they would leave the kitchen after hearing that he wasn't done cooking, instead they all just decided to loaf around, waiting for food. Practically sitting a stones throw away from where {Name} currently hid. Zoro decided it was late enough, food wasn't prepared but it's always a good time for booze. And the really good stuff is kept in a cupboard right where Sanji was standing. Zoro planned to walk over and grab it, thankfully being anticipated by Sanji he grabbed the booze before Zoro walked over the whole way. In attempt to keep the distance between them Sanji had to lean a little over the counter to hand the bottle to Zoro. Sanji closing the distance to pass the booze to him resulted in him accidentally pushing his cock deeper into {Name's} throat. Sanji trembled, the way {Name} felt around his cock made his legs weak. Zoro took the booze from him without thinking much about the uncharacteristic act of goodwill from the swirly brow. He headed out to go drink and have a small nap. Sanji wanted to recklessly buck his hips, greedily wanting more, just wanting to end this drawn out endeavor when he was so close to cumming. Against his wishes he retracted his hips to give his partner a moment to breathe. It ultimately proved pointless considering how {Name} instantly went back to what they were doing immediately. Sanji's hand tangled into their hair, one hand on the counter to keep him grounded and upright. He felt dizzy from the pleasure, an unexpected explosion caused a stir amongst the rest of the crewmates, Sanji refused to care about what was going on outside, he heard someone talking about Usopp's new ammo being the source of the explosion. The rest of the crewmates flooded out to see what was going on, that moment of privacy was all Sanji needed. He thrust his hips, unable to be patient anymore. His voice sounded throughout the kitchen. He pressed his hand harder into the counter as he hit an intense climax. He froze, trying to catch his breath. He opened his eyes and looked at {Name} trying to clean themselves up, licking their lips and wiping up whatever was on their face. As Sanji opened his mouth, his words were replaced with dissapointed and panicked silence when he smelled his food burning.

527 notes · View notes

bi-disaster-yn · 2 years

Text

About You

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Reader can’t help but feel they are missing someone and also feels a real connection to Spider Man but can’t explain why. (Inspired by About You by The 1975).

Set after the events in No Way Home! As always, Peter is aged up to be in his early-mid twenties.

A/N: SO basically all of my fave artists; The 1975, Taylor Swift and PVRIS brought out new music within days of each other so expect a few fics inspired by their songs! P.S this is my petition to be your favourite Peter writer.

Reader has no gender specifications and so can be read as any gender with any pronouns. I typically hate the usage of ‘Y/N’ and try to avoid it but it kinda had to be done here.

There’s something about you

That now I can’t remember

It’s the same damn thing

That made my heart surrender

And I miss you on the train

I miss you in the morning

I never know what to think about

I think about you

The strain on your eyes was getting more unbearable as blinking felt like razor cuts on your eyelids, yet you couldn’t pull away. An evening spent in the compound computer lab typing up mission reports became a full on research mission into the elusive Spider Man.

It had gotten dark outside hours ago but you hadn’t been able to peel yourself away to turn the light on. Instead, you sat in the darkness, being illuminated by the various Daily Bugle videos tearing down the subject of your research.

Your fascination with Spider Man was odd. In recent times, you had felt like something or someone was missing. There was a void in your chest which only seemed to heal at the mere mention of the vigilante with the ability to shoot webs from his wrists.

It vexed you that no one in the compound had asked him to join the avengers at the battle with Thanos - nor did they think to get his information or even run a simple background check on him. He had specific skills and was invaluable in that fight, they would definitely need him again someday.

Likewise, he had leant before Tony as he died, clearly torn apart by it. Yet no one seemed to know who he was. Clearly, he was important so none of this made sense.

Although, being fixated on Spider Man went deeper than you considering he’d be an asset to the Avengers. Watching his movements always put fuzzy flashbacks in your brain of a sweet brunette man. All you could make out was brown curls and a smile on a distorted face but it brought you immense comfort. The blurred visions included his laugh and holding his hand. Sometimes they were a bit more detailed and he’d be laying on your chest as you rubbed his back. Yet, despite giving yourself headaches by try to force yourself to remember, the face was never quite decipherable.

You couldn’t recall ever seeing this man but still these images felt like memories and the feelings they inspired in you were real. The mystery of him and his supposed importance plagued your mind as you felt you were running endlessly in circles for answers. Whenever your focus wasn’t on a particular mission or other Avengers business, it would always find a way to go back to him.

Biting your thumbnail, you rolled your eyes as the presenter on the Daily Bugle reprimanded Spider Man again. You would have preferred a more complimentary source for your research but this seemed to be the only resource that took anything to do with him.

All of a sudden, the lights switched on in the lab, startling you and leaving you disorientated. Adjusting your eyes, you looked up to see Sam with folded arms and giving you a stern look.

“Crushing on Spider Man again?” He asked with a playful smirk which put you on defence mode.

“Sam, there’s something there! I know there is.” You snapped back grumpily, tired of everyone underestimating Spider Man’s importance and putting down your ideas as obsessive ramblings.

Sam nodded, seemingly different than before. “Oh, I know. That’s why I’m putting you on a mission to recruit him.”

You raised your eyebrow in surprise, so used to having this subject brushed off when you broached it that this all seemed a little too good to be true. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t want to be the kind of captain that puts my team down when they genuinely think something is a lead. You’ve been focussed on this for weeks now. So, go and do it. Go find Spider Man and at least try and bring him in for a conversation. I wanna meet him.”

With this you were leaping out of your chair and throwing your arms - rather unprofessionally - around Sam’s neck. He chuckled in response, lightly patting your back.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You exclaimed in a rush to get the words out, grateful for your Captain to show some faith in you. “You won’t regret this!”

“I hope not.” He warned. “Now get planning, I want an update in a week.”

***

Finding Spider Man was relatively easy. From your research you managed to work out that he must have some connection with the police department as every time they were alerted to a crime, he seemed to appear. Getting a police radio was also easy, the NYPD couldn’t exactly object to approval from Captain America himself.

A signed warrant from Sam was exchanged for a radio and you waited it out to pick up something so you could intercept your target.

You had selected a late Tuesday night for your recruitment mission and had invited Joaquin Torres along as back-up. All geared up in your mission suit, you sat atop a building waiting for an update on your radio while linked up to Torres on the ground.

“I mean, how do you go from fighting Thanos to waiting for petty crimes to happen?” Joaquin asked you over comms.

“Maybe he had an existential crisis.” You laughed back.

It was bitingly cold and there was a soft crunch in the snow beneath your boots. The wind seemed to howl aggressively around you. Honestly, only idiots would leave the warmth of home on a night like this. Or people on a mission.

Although, the cold seemed to bring with it more hazy visions of the brunette man. You swore you could smell cheap coffee and doughnuts as you thought about the man taking off his scarf to wrap it round you, revealing the ugly Christmas jumper he’d had on underneath which was forest green and emblazoned with a snowman. Suddenly, it didn’t feel so cold anymore.

The radio murmured as a report came through of a robbery a few blocks from where you were. Whilst crime wasn’t actually something an avenger should root for; you couldn’t contain your excitement at the possibility of meeting your favourite superhero.

“Ready to get some robbers, Torres?” You smiled a bit too happily as you launched a zipwire to transport yourself from building to building.

“Well, it’s not what I trained for in the army but I’m up for anything these days.” He responded before stepping on the gas in one of the Compound’s most discreet jeeps.

In the distance, you spied a figure in a red and blue suit making their way towards the bank. You swallowed thickly, feeling as though your heart was threatening to propel itself up into your mouth. After the months of research and the unexplained mystery, this was it.

You managed to land on the roof of the building where he was standing, ready to make his next move. Sensing you immediately, the vigilante turned round to face you and his eye details on his mask comically widened. He stood frozen in front of you, looking down at the webshooters on his wrists before back at you with caution, as though he was reluctant to use them on you.

He recognised you.

“Don’t worry about the robbery, my associate will deal with that. I just want to talk.” You announced and made a step towards him with your hand reached out to shake.

His recoil was automatic as he edged backwards to avoid your touch. A frown painted your features, shocked by his standoffish nature. The intensity of feeling he had given you was so great that you hadn’t considered that he would not automatically reciprocate it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bombard your patrol.” You started, trying to compose yourself and conceal any hint of embarrassment. “I’m an Avenger, and Captain America wants to meet you.”

“Sam Wilson?” He asked in a peculiarly sweet voice; the sound of which triggered the tightening in your chest and produced ringing in your ears. Suddenly, the void in you started to deepen, which only furthered your earlier frustrations. Why was he so important?

“Exactly.” It was the only answer you were capable of producing.

“He’ll be a good Captain America.” Spider Man responded. “But I can’t go back there.”

“Why?” You demanded, becoming impatient with his enigmatic nature. Every single instinct in your body told you to push this, to not let him away without the answers to questions you weren’t quite sure of yet.

In that moment, nothing else mattered except getting to know this masked man.

“I am not gonna be an Avenger again.” He stated with certainty and he continued to edge back, reaching his arm out and you knew what he was planning to do.

The web that was shot from his wrist didn’t make it very far as you lunged forward and brought him to the ground. The wind was clearly knocked out of him but he put his hands on your shoulders to try and push you off and escape. He struggled against you with groans but not with very much force. It was like he was determined not to harm you. All he wanted was to get away from you.

Evidently, he knew you well enough to not want to hurt you. Worryingly, despite how hard you tried, you couldn’t remember him.

“Who are you?!” You yelled at him. Professionalism had fallen by the wayside at this point. No longer on an Avengers mission, you were on a quest for answers about the gap in your soul only he could answer.

His hands were still on your shoulders, keeping you at arm’s length from him as he squirmed beneath you without hurting you. He was entirely capable of it. One shot from his wrist and he could have launched you off of him and have gotten away in seconds. When he didn’t answer your question, you reached up for his mask to pull it off.

Then he said it.

“Y/N, STOP!” He yelled at you. The sound of your name falling from his lips made you wince. Once careful hands became shaky and your tightened chest now felt as though it had been ripped open and left to bleed out in front of him. It was so familiar and intimate but at the same time, felt a million miles away because you couldn’t understand why this would be so significant.

You stared at each other in a stale mate, ready to see who would make the first move. He visibly softened when he saw the tears form in your eyes, ready to fall.

“You know me.” You said eventually, leaning back to sit on your knees next to him. “How do you know my name?"

Spider Man sat up, leaning back on his palms. No longer was he looking round for an escape option. Instead, he appeared conflicted and stuck. His only response was an attempt to start answering your question but eventually giving up and sighing, turning his face to look away from you.

Even though his spidey senses alerted him to your next move, he seemed resigned to his position when you successfully reached over and pulled the mask off. It revealed the brunette man from your memories, except now his face was clear as day. It was him though, and the images of him lying on your chest expanded where he’d look up at you and you’d laugh together over something silly. The sweet man who’d scrunched his face up with laughter in your memory was now reduced to the forlorn one before you.

He was so handsome, but at the same time had a dullness behind his eyes that signified how he carried the weight of the world. The friendly neighbourhood Spider Man with extraordinary abilities was simultaneously so defenceless in your presence.

Tear filled and regretful eyes met yours in a stare that was impossible to break. The man offered a sympathetic but pained smile. There was an overwhelming need deep inside you to reach forward and comfort him. Something told you that he might need it.

“I know you.” You whispered. “I know you but I don’t know where from.”

Immediately, the tears that had been kept back from the brim started to cascade down his face. His face grimaced in unimaginable pain and he hauled his legs to his chest, dipping his head in his knees. Racked with sobs, his whole body shuddered and you contemplated if you had ever seen someone so vulnerable before.

“I think about you all the time, I don’t know why.” You offered but it didn’t seem to help matters. “How do you know me? How do we know each other?”

“I can’t tell you.” He said with a broken voice, still hiding his face from you. “It’s too dangerous.”

“But we clearly mean a lot to each other!” You retaliated. “You could have easily beaten me in that fight and have gotten away by now, but you didn’t. You recognised me as soon as you saw me. Please! I’m so tired of people thinking I’m crazy over this. There’s something about you and I just can’t let it go.”

“You have to.” He replied gruffly, mustering the strength to raise to his feet and retrieving his mask from you. Powerless, you remained rooted to the floor, seemingly unable to stop him as he brushed past your arm and made his way to swing off the building.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

There was something about the way he touched your arm and said your name that sent an electric shock through you. It was as though a part of your brain had been unplugged but now there was power again; switching on the memories that gradually seeped through. It inspired the straightening of your posture and the rolling of your shoulders. You turned round to him, uncertain why but with a desperation in your stomach to say the next thing that came from your lips.

“P-Peter?”

If the world had stopped at that moment, neither of you would have noticed it. The man spun round to meet your eyes again but this time, despite the tears still streaming from his eyes, he had a face full of hope. For too long he had been sitting in the darkness, suffocated by the weight of his own loneliness. But you came along and with you brought a flickering candle, ready to pull him into the light again.

“What did you say?” He whispered, praying and pleading internally that he hadn’t made that up, that his mind wasn’t playing a cruel trick on him. If you’d remembered him, he’d allow himself to come back to you.

“Peter.” You said again with a deep exhale, pointing to your head. “That’s all I keep hearing in my head. Peter Parker… that’s you, isn’t it? You’re my Peter.”

Without warning, Peter lunged towards you and pulled you into a tight embrace. He buried his face in your neck, brushing his lashes along your skin as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears fall against your skin and suit. It felt natural when you put your arms round him and held him close.

His scent, his breathing, the definable features of his face pressed against your neck all pieced together the remaining shards of information that you had been inexplicably robbed of.

“You were mine before. Weren’t you? I lost my memory.” You mumbled to him as you held him close, getting the sense that this was the first time in a long time that he’d been hugged. "You gave me your scarf when I was cold once, and you had that ridiculous Christmas sweater. Remember?"

He winced at the memory you shared, affording himself the opportunity to let you in again. Truthfully, he'd been so terrified about putting you in danger and losing you that he hadn't accustomed himself to the fact that he already had lost you. He was fighting against that which was his current reality.

“I was yours. And you were mine.” He confirmed, letting his hands roam your back as if getting used to your body again. "And I like that sweater!"

“Why has everyone tried to keep us apart?”

“No one remembers me, that was the deal I made with Doctor Strange. No one would remember Peter Parker, it saved the world.” He explained sadly and gave you a squeeze. Although, it wasn’t the full story, you accepted it at face value. Eventually, he’d tell you everything but you had all the time in the world for that. You had just gotten him back and you weren’t going to let him go again.

“That was a stupid deal.” You laughed through a choked sob, running your fingers through his soft brown curls. His contented hum told you that this was something you had done before.

“Yeah, it was.” He laughed, pressing a loving kiss to your cheek which made your stomach flip. “I was really hoping you’d figure it out. I missed you.”

The feeling of his lips on you was something you craved again. You leaned back, letting your fingers tangle in his hair and pulled him in for a deep kiss. His hands planted on your waist and pulled you intently, as though he was trying to mould you both into one person. Lord knows, you might as well be with the connection that you undoubtedly shared.

Closing your eyes, you focused on the way the beating of your heart went into overdrive and how it thumped in your chest so hard he would no doubt feel it where he had pulled your body close to his. You had no idea just how much you had been missing up until now. Earlier theories and memories now contextualised and validated, you began to feel the void in your chest heal and feel full again.

Foreheads met and Peter pressed several pecks to your lips making you both laugh just as you had done in your memory. Your arms wrapped round his neck to achieve as much contact with him as possible, having missed him touching you for so long.

“I knew I was right about you.” You beamed as you pulled back from the kiss, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone lovingly. “I remember it now, Peter.”

Both of you exchanged a sad look in acknowledgement of the time together you’d been robbed of. Whilst the greater good demanded it, there was a particular cruelty in ripping apart two souls so intertwined with each other. Perhaps, the overlap would explain that which kept you so connected to him. Or maybe fate was just on your side.

Either way, you had endured the preview of what existence without each other entailed and neither of you were prepared to go through that again.

“How did you figure it out? I mean, what was it that made you just keep thinking of me?” He asked in a comfortable whisper, having no intention of pulling back from the embrace any time soon. You smiled in response, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“There was just something about you.”

481 notes · View notes

hobiebrownismygod · 10 months

Text

So on one of my recent posts about Hobie, I got this comment from @unnecessary-account and I thought it was really interesting.

Miles has a connection with the Prowler

That's already been established (Prowler Miles)

We know that Uncle Aaron was the Prowler and he was a 'bad guy' and all that. We know that the Prowler in ITSV was supposed to be a bad guy, with his scary theme, the fact that he worked for Kingpin, and the fact that he was trying to kill Miles until he found out who was under the mask.

But the Hobie Brown Prowler is different.

Hobie Brown was a really smart kid who grew up in a really crappy family. His father left when he was a baby and his mom was an alcoholic. He had 9 siblings and all of them were basically forced to raise themselves.

In order to support himself, he became a window-cleaner who used his intellect to build gadgets to make his job easier. When he was eventually fired, he turned to a life of crime, where he would steal money from the Daily Bugle.

But after a confrontation with Spider-man, he realizes this life of crime sucks and he actually becomes an anti-hero. Spider-man even comes to him for help every once in a while and Hobie joins the Silver Sable group, a group of anti-hero mercenaries that includes Sandman.

"The Prowler gives me control over my own life-- and power. Power I can use to protect the helpless."

The Prowler Issue #1

The Prowler gives Hobie power over himself and his identity

It gives him control over his own life and his own future

Now lets connect this to Spiderman Hobie

Hobie advocates for freedom and free speech. He would want people to have control over themselves and their future. He actively fights against a fascist dictatorship in order to provide human rights for all the citizens of London

Being Spider-man means having the freedom to do these things

Having that mask on means being the voice of the people

That's what being Spider-man is to Spiderman Hobie

Now lets connect this to Miles

The first thought Miles has when he sees Hobie is "Damn. He's way cooler than me."

He's jealous of Hobie, not just cuz he's close with Gwen, but because he's an older boy who knows what he wants, does what he wants, and doesn't have to worry about other people's perceptions of him.

He's the definition of cool

Miles in the meanwhile is struggling to balance his classes, struggling to keep his identity a secret and feeling completely alone in his world

He's struggling with anxiety, panic attacks, maybe even a little bit of depression from what we saw in The Spider Within

He's struggling with the meaning of Spider-man

He's working so hard to protect his city, help the helpless, to fill those shoes that the original Peter Parker left behind. Hobie Brown's Prowler does the same thing, where he takes inspiration from Spider-man to fuel himself and his goals

Miles doesn't have control over his own life. At the end of ATSV, he doesn't even have control over his own future or his own fate.

Hobie Brown wanted control and power. Hobie Brown became the Prowler to have control and power.

Miles Morales wants control and power. Miles is fighting against his canon event because he needs that control over his future and he needs that power in his life.

Because both Spider-man and the Prowler are good people that have been put in tough situations.

And both of them want control over their own lives

Miles and the Hobie Brown Prowler share that connection. Spider-man in general shares that connection with the Prowler. I think that's pretty cool.

This analysis was kinda all over the place, mb 😭

if something doesn't make sense I'm happy to explain it though

Sources under the cut:

73 notes · View notes

yellowwithalisp · 11 months

Note

Can you do a hobie x scene reader and they make a kandi bracelet or something for him and he refuses to take it off

( HOBIE IS BACK! HEHEHE! Trying to get all my ask done! - yellow 💛🌻) "And, when was the las' time you gotten any sleep?"

Hobie asked as he walked over to the right side of me, leaning against the wall as I typed away on my computer.

"… I took a nap today. I'm fine."

I said as my typing quickened, I didn't even look up at him as I quickly typed away. All the lights in my room were off except for the light coming from a computer. My cat was resting on my bed as he looked up at us, letting out a small meow. Hobie looked at the cat for a moment before looking back at me. A worried look on his face as my eyes didn't leave the computer screen.

"… Wha' happened a' the lab really messed with you didn'' i'?"

I stopped typing for just a moment as silence filled the room. The rain hitting against the window grew louder.

"… My father did this Strings…"

I said as I pushed my chair back a bit and turned to face him.

"My father- was the one who green light The Sentinel Project, who hates mutants, and now. His own daughter is a mutant- and I don't know how to tell him that! Because the moment I do I know, that he's going to hate me! And now, I just found out that he's also made a drink that is poisonous to mutants!!"

I tossed my hands up into the air before I put them back into my lap turning my head away to face my computer screen again before I looked over at Hobie.

"I don't know if I can't stop him Strings…"

"Hey, hey - whoa, whoa, whoa," Hobie interrupted. "Listen, i know a couple things abou' complicated relationships with your ol' man."

Hobie took a deep breath, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"Look, we've all go' our problems, and you've gone through some things." Hobie said, taking a seat across from me.

"Bu' you're forgetting one importan' thing. You've go' us. You've go' me. And all the x-men tha' are rooting for you."

He paused for a moment, taking in the storm outside.

"And you've go' your powers. Yeah, i know some people are scared of you. Bu' that's because they don'' know you. They don'' know the real you."

"Hobie, he's going to hurt people… Lots of people! And I don't know how to stop him!"

I held up my hands in front of me. "If I ask to go to Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, he'll find out- and I don't know what he'll do to me…"

"And tha' brings us righ' back to tha' importan' thing i keep mentioning."

Hobie leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand.

"I' doesn'' matter wha' your old man thinks. And i' damn sure doesn'' matter how many people hate you."

Hobie leaned back and put his hands behind his head, as if trying to convince me through his sheer level of confidence alone.

"Because no matter what, no matter where, i'm going to be righ' there. For you."

I watched him before looking back at my computer, Hobie did the same. It was playing the Daily Bugle on it. J Jonah Jameson was talking about this world's spider-man, universe 11052.

"… Part of me wants to ask to run away and go live in your world Hobie.“

I said softly as my eyes didn’t leave the computer screen. Hobie raised an eyebrow.

"You can’' jus' go missing. Your father would notice." He leaned in a little closer, speaking in a quieter tone.

“And you said i' yourself, your powers aren’' controlled yet, if you try to teleport, who knows where you’ll wind up. If you go missing and you don’' show up again…” Hobie’s mind started to trail off in dark places. Hobie paused for a moment, his expression growing stern.

"I could tell you to jus' try and hide i' from your dad. Tha' you should be careful and never use your powers in public."

He watched the video with me for a moment as he took in the scene. A new wave of guilt set in for him.

"Bu' i’m no' going to say tha'. Because even if you could pretend to be normal, i know tha' inside, you wouldn'' feel normal… I' would only be a matter of time before i' comessy ou'. And then, your dad’s going to find ou'."

As we continued to watch J Jonah Jameson, the sound of thunder rolled in. And then, rain started to pummel the window. It was getting late at night. I listened to him but shook my head.

“He hates mutants, I hear him talk about it all the time- he says if he could get rid of them for good he would!”

I said as my voice quivered, tears started to form in my eyes as my hands trembled.

"Hey." Hobie sighed. Hobie crouched down a bit so we'd be at eye level.

"I'm going to say wha' i jus' said again. He migh' say tha'. He migh' even hate the though' of a mutan' in his family. Bu' he doesn'' hate you."

Hobie tapped my knee.

"He's your dad. Like you said. And i know i' migh' be hard for you to believe, bu' he wonts what's bes' for you. And if he can'' accep' you for who you are, that's no' your faul'."

I turned away from him as I wiped the tears away from my face. Hobie put his hands on either side of my shoulders.

"He can’' hate mutants forever… because you’ll show him how good mutants actually are. They aren’' the monsters he thinks they are… you’re no' the monster he thinks you are."

"What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me..?"

"If i' comessy down to it- wha' would you choose? would you rather stay a' home and keep your powers secret, and risk him destroying your life? or would you take a chance and talk to him abou' going to Xavier School?"

Hobie paused for a moment. Trying to find the right words to say.

"Because if that's wha' i' comessy down to, then you need to make tha' call. Bu' remember, no matter wha' happens… It's no' your faul'. All you're trying to do is help him understand."

Hobie took a breath before standing up. "You still go' the stuff for a kandi bracelet?"

I blinked as I turned in my chair more to face him.

"Yeah… Why?"

He smiled as he put his hands in his pockets. "Let’s ge' your mind off of this for now."

He said as he walked passed my bed, giving the cat a few headpaps before pulling out my box that had my beads in it.

"We’ll both make one. Tha' woy, you’ll still have me around when i’m no' here."

He said as he pulled out two guitar strings out of his pocket.

"So, that's who that’s from?"

Miles asked as Hobie crossed his legs over each other as he looked at the bracelet on his arm.

"Yeah, her nickname for me is strings so she has tha' on i'. And mine has power on i' for her powers."

Miles's eyes shifted away for just a moment.

"So… what happened to her?"

Hobie’s eyes closed as he took a deep breath. "Talk with her dad didn’' go well, so i helped her ge' her things and moved her to Xavier School where-" Hobie pointed to Miles. "She is now an X-Men."

He said as Miles looked down at his bracelet. "I hear she kisses her’s before going on a mission."

"And do you do that with yours?"

Gwein piped in as Hobie smirked, moving his hands behind his head.

"Na, I kiss the real thing."

#x reader #hobie brown x reader

58 notes · View notes

tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 4 months

Text

So, to follow up on this post that I just made that details my thoughts on the Taskmaster s18 lineup: Jack Dee, Rosie Jones, Emma Sidi, and Babatunde Aléshé...

I’m totally kidding! Obviously I’m totally kidding. Obviously. Obviously I was kidding in that entire post, suggesting that I give one fuck who those other four people are. It doesn't matter! Obviously in reality, seats 2-5 of Taskmaster s18 could be filled by Leo Kearse, Jim Davidson, Jordan Peterson, and Suella Braverman, and I’d still consider this to be a fantastic lineup.

Okay. Finally, after several weeks of losing my God damn mind, sitting on the spoilers and being good about not mentioning it (mostly…), I can say this. Finally.

Let’s talk Zaltzman.

First of all, let me set the scene. I've just finished my work for the day. I'm waiting in the break room while my co-worker files her stuff so we can close up the building together. I check my phone, because it's Taskmaster lineup spoiler day, and I've been waiting on confirmation.

I read the words and drop my phone in amazement, scrambling to catch it before it hits the ground. I look again, trying to make 100% sure I am reading this right, because I refuse to get my hopes up that high just to be disappointed. No, it says what I thought it said. I jump up, bang my fist against my chest and then into the air and then back again, mutter “fuck yes fucking right holy fuck” under my breath repeatedly, and then look around and am pleased to see my co-worker has not come into the room. And then I’m not allowed to post about it for several fucking weeks.

Andy was top of my wishlist. Possibly the number one person on it even if I could have literally anyone, including the people who definitely wouldn’t do it. He was definitely the number one person on my Taskmaster wishlist, out of the people who would possibly ever do it. But I wasn’t sure he belonged on that second list. Every time I’ve posted about a Taskmaster wishlist in the last couple of years, I’ve said of course Andy Zaltzman’s number one, but I know it won’t happen.

I know Taskmaster casts people who aren't already TV famous, but they're usually young. Taskmaster casts older people who are well established in a TV career, and young up-and-comers. Not people who turn 50 this year and did an episode of 8 Out of 10 Cats one time in 2008.

I mean, Andy Zaltzman isn’t completely obscure. It’s now been several years since he took over as host of The News Quiz, which I think is Radio 4’s flagship comedy program. The Bugle has been going for nearly 17 years and is quite successful. It’s not fair to imply that 2008 was his last TV credit; he was on Alternative Comedy Experience in 2013, where he had some chats with Stewart Lee that are among the most socially awkward things I’ve ever seen in my life. Sometimes they let him on TV in Australia. He did Matt Forde’s TV thing a few times. He does actually have a very successful career as a cricket statistician/commentator. He wrote for Bremner, Bird and Fortune in 2006. He’s doing fine. He's doing absolutely fine.

And he has an impressive stand-up career. He's done tours in the States, off the back of The Bugle's international success. He's performed in Asia off the back of his cricket commentating popularity. He's sold out big rooms to hordes of Bugle fans.

Taskmaster has cast lots of people who were less famous at the time of casting than Andy Zaltzman is now. They're just not usually Andy Zaltzman's age. But it doesn't matter, he's there now. So let me tell you about this man.

Andrew Zechariah Zaltzman was born on October 6, 1974. He grew up in Tumbridge Wells, Kent, a place he has described as so right-wing that they think you're a bit of a leftie if you only cast one Tory vote per general election. Raised by his father Zechariah "Zack" Zaltzman, who was a sculptor and a Lithuanian lapsed Jew who grew up in South Africa. Along with his sister Helen and brother Rick. I don't know his mother's name and it's probably fine to keep it that way, as I'm pretty sure Andy Zaltzman attracts a lot of fans like me, who have my combination of information-gathering autism and a good memory, that means I did not have to do any Googling to write that paragraph. I could have included the name of his school without Googling just because I've read his Wikipedia page so much, but I'll refrain from doing that.

To be fair, it's not some obscure piece of trivia to know his sister's name, because Helen Zaltzman is one of the only people in Britain who's had a podcast for longer than Andy. Podcasting was quite new when The Bugle started, but Helen started her podcast Answer Me This just before it. Helen Zaltzman's not technically a comedian, but she's quite comedy-adjacent, her podcasts are funny and she's been in plays at the Edinburgh Festival. Hangs out with comedians. Was friends with Josie Long at Oxford, so that's pretty cool. Used to be flatmates with comedy flatshare expert Matthew Crosby. Did an episode of ComComPod.

Anyway, after being raised with a future comedy-adjacent podcaster, Andy went to study Classics at Oxford University, where he also worked for the sports page of the student newspaper. It was here that he discovered his love of made-up bullshit, as he once wrote an entirely fictitious article about a game that never happened. When told they couldn't print it because it was libellous, Andy tried to argue that he hadn't libelled anyone because none of the people he wrote about in that article exist. Andy Zaltzman swears that story is true, and I think it probably is.

Andy Zaltzman did one stand-up gig at university that went very badly, then didn't do any stand-up for a bit, and then eventually did some more gigs that went less badly. Ended up in the finals of So You Think You’re Funny in 1999, where he lost to David O’Doherty (other finalists included Jimmy Carr, Russell Howard, and Josie Long, the latter of whom beat David O’Doherty in the BBC New Comedy Awards in the same year, a year of traded victories that they still amusingly and adorably reference on social media sometimes).

Andy Zaltzman got in with Avalon management, and in 2000, he went back to Edinburgh as part of The Comedy Zone. Also in 2000, he supported Stewart Lee on a stand-up tour around the UK. A lot of the venues were not told that there would be a support act and couldn’t fit him in at the last minute, so essentially, it was less like doing tour support and more like Andy just followed Stewart Lee around the country for a few weeks. Stewart Lee got so exhausted by the effort of trying to hang out with someone as socially awkward as Andy Zaltzman that he quit stand-up for several years (that’s a joke, but he did actually quit – eventually going back to stand-up but never back to his agency – because he got frustrated with Avalon on that tour, largely because they kept doing things like failing to tell venues that he was bringing a support act). In 2005, Stewart Lee returned to stand-up, and shared a flat at the Edinburgh Festival with Andy Zaltzman that year. Across the next 15 years, Stewart Lee took several opportunities to marvel at how it was possible for one person to watch as much sport as Andy Zaltzman did, when on tour and in Edinburgh flats.

In 2001, Andy did his first full-length Edinburgh show, called Andy Zaltzman Versus the Dog of Doom, which got nominated for the Perrier Newcomer Award. It was mainly a solo show, and billed as a solo show, but it featured a few bits with a man he'd met on the stand-up circuit named John Oliver, who was performing in The Comedy Zone. In 2002, Andy went back to Edinburgh with a show called Andy Zaltzman Unveils the 2002 Catapult of Truth, which also featured bits of John Oliver. John did his debut solo hour that year as well, a show that Chortle’s Steve Bennett called “a fairly pointless concept, which is then tiresomely illustrated”. Clearly, John made the correct choice in deciding that in future years, he’d stick to the stuff with Zaltzman.

In 2003, Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver began writing more comedy together, and were both specifically interested in political comedy. They found this could be difficult on mixed bill gigs where the audience hadn’t come for political comedy, and wouldn’t take well to all the dating and travel mishap stories being interrupted by satire on the colonial immigration process. So they started a comedy night in London called Political Animal, where they would co-host with their own jointly-written political jokes, introducing other comedians who would do exclusively political material. This allowed them to perform to audiences who would get what they were expecting, and it led to them being chased off stage less often (okay, their stories about those years of terrible gigs only include one where they got literally chased off stage). Comedians who performed at Political Animal included Robert Newman, Al Murray, Stewart Lee, Jeremy Hardy, Daniel Kitson, Chris Addison, Frankie Boyle, Andrew Maxwell, Will Hodgson, and don’t worry about the other name on the list from which I've copied this (it was one of those Russells they have now, and by far the worst of the three, despite the other two’s flaws).

On these early Political Animal nights, Zaltzman and Oliver used to do a sketch in which they'd interact with God. If Daniel Kitson was part of the show that night, he'd join them for that sketch and Kitson would play the role of God, which is a little on the nose even for him.

They did Political Animal once a month in London for several years, and also took it to Edinburgh for quite a few years in a row. In 2005, they recorded a pilot for BBC Radio 4, a radio show that would broadcast highlights of each act in a Political Animal night, interspersed with little Zaltzman and Oliver sketches. This got picked up and ran for two seasons, ten episodes in total.

In Edinburgh 2003, Zaltzman and Oliver did Edinburgh and Beyond, a mixed bill with each other and Rob Deering. Some of Andy’s material from that show can be heard in the Radio 4 program 4 at the Fringe. It opens with “Are you all glad to be alive? About half of you. Good. Aren’t festivals fun?” Then he goes into a complex explanation of how King Harold threw the Battle of Hastings and he has proof. This also contains the earliest known recording of Andy Zaltzman's classic joke about how voters' commitment to apathy is a paradox.

Then he says the words: “There are more celebrities now than ever before, in the world. There are also more facts in the world than ever before, and that’s just one of them. There are more celebrities now, and if the current rate of the increase in celebrities now continues, then by the year 2052, celebrities will outnumber ordinary people. And if that continues then by 2142, 99% of the world’s population will be celebrities. At which point the market will implode, and all celebrities will be merged into one giant celebrity, known as God. And the process will start again from scratch. Only this time, God will make the differences between men and women even funnier, and comedians will be the most powerful race on Earth. And after a savage and brutal war between the observationalists and the surrealists, into the power vacuum will come the singing comedians, and the world’s only currency will be amusingly altered pop lyrics. So please, be careful.” And you can begin to see why audiences occasionally chased him off stages. I don’t know what John Oliver was doing with his portion of that shared 2003 bill. Probably some stuff about penguins, given what he was into at the time. He was also very busy ripping cows apart that year. 2003 was a big year for people giving John Oliver large facsimile animals that he did not want and making him deal with them.

In 2004, Zaltzman and Oliver decided to stop messing around with little sketches in each other's shows, and just do the joint stand-up hour that the world had been waiting for. They went to Edinburgh with a show called Zaltzman and Oliver’s Erm... It's About the World... I Think You'd Better Sit Down, which is a hell of a title. They filled in a questionnaire about it for the BBC, which is a lovely little relic. If you want to know what Zaltzman and Oliver were doing during the Edinburgh Festival in 2004:

What will you be doing with the other 23 hrs of the day? JO: I will assign around 8 of those hours for sleep. I'll try and eat three times, spaced out in the time remaining. I will insult my flatmate for a further 3 of those hours. And I will think about sport for the rest of the time. AZ: Table tennis.

(Note: I'm 95% sure the flatmate John Oliver was going to insult for three hours a day is Daniel Kitson.)

They took the show on tour the following year, including performing it one time in 2005 with someone recording the audio. They didn't do anything with that audio until about six years later, when they released it during a filler week for The Bugle. It contains many of their classic joint bits, like the immigration sketch and the state of political discourse sketch.

In 2005, they did another joint Edinburgh show, called John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman Issue a List of Demands and Await Your Response with Interest. Not big fans of titles that fit easily into blurbs. This show unfortunately has been lost to history, or at least, it had better be lost to history, because at this point I will be furious if it turns out Andy Zaltzman has a recording of it somewhere and has been holding out on us all this time (not really, please let me know if you have this, Andy, I would pay you money). Steve Bennett called it: "As a double act [Zaltzman and Oliver] bring out the best of Zaltzman’s towering intellect and Oliver’s sneery cynicism, feeding off each other’s presence." Which is a pretty solid summary of their double act dynamic in general.

I know there are reviewers besides Steve Bennett, by the way. But Chortle, for all its other admin-related faults, does archive its reviews in a way that makes old ones easy to find, so it tends to be my go-to reference for times like this. I have read other old Zaltzman and Oliver reviews, and a lot of them can be basically summarized as "They have good, intelligent, and funny material, but God, those guys can be really annoying." Brian Logan called them "Better writers than performers", which is maybe technically true but also he can fuck off. We like the socially awkward lack of charisma, okay?

Anyway. Back on topic. While they were establishing their live double act, Zaltzman and Oliver also teamed up with their friend, the excellent comedian Chris Addison, to write a radio show called The Department. This is a fictional show set in a secret government department that secretly runs the entire world, and they spend each episode solving a different problem. It ran on BBC Radio 4 for three seasons and 14 episodes in total, from 2004 to 2006. It featured a bunch of old Zaltzman and Oliver stand-up bits, shoehorned expertly into the mouths of the characters. Zaltzman, Oliver, and Addison co-wrote it and played the three main characters (except Addison didn't write season 3 as he was busy with other projects, but he still did the voice acting), with the other major character being voiced by Matthew Holness, and Lucy Montgomery doing some additional voices (Matthew and Lucy were both in Cambridge Footlights with John Oliver a few years earlier).

They hoped The Department would translate to TV someday, but that didn't happen. Even as late as ten years later, Andy Zaltzman, according to one uncharacteristically vulnerable interview, was still holding out hope that it could someday get picked up as a TV sitcom. John Oliver, on the other hand, said years later that he looked back on The Department as something that wasn't any good. John is, in my accurate opinion, entirely wrong about that. There are some old Zaltzman and Oliver things that I can recognize were objectively not great comedy, I just like them as adorable historical relics. The Department is not like that. I think it was a really, really funny and well written show. It had good characters and dense jokes and I wish it had become more.

These were the glory years of Zaltzman and Oliver. The Department on the radio, joint stand-up shows, hosting mixed bill stuff at Political Animal. But that double act was just a small subset of a larger group called the Chocolate Milk Gang. The Chocolate Milk Gang was an international crime syndicate that sometimes organized soccer matches, to borrow a phrase from John Oliver (John was talking about FIFA when he said it, but it still applies). You can see one of these matches in The Greatest Video on All of YouTube, featuring a lot of comedians who are hard to recognize because it's got about 8 pixels per inch, but you can always pick out Andy with his curly red hair, and John Oliver as the only one wearing long pants instead of shorts. I'm definitely not going to go look at the building where they filmed that video when I go to London this summer. That would be a weird thing to do. I mean I can't confirm whether I'm going to do that, but I will say that one time on his radio show I heard Elis James say Crystal Palace isn't a tourist attraction, and I laughed and said "That's what you think."

Anyway, the Chocolate Milk Gang was actually a bunch of comedians who were all friends in the early 00s, they frequently appeared in each other's stand-up shows (and occasionally radio shows and things like that), told stories about each other on stage, played football on Tuesdays, shared mixed bills, ritualistically sacrificed cows together in the middle of the night, things like that. They got their name because they drank alcohol either not at all or not very much, and after late-night Edinburgh shows they'd go for milkshakes while other comedians were getting drunk, so some of those other comedians started calling them the Chocolate Milk Gang. Glenn Wool has been specifically credited with coining the term, Andrew Maxwell and Jason Byrne were also said to be involved. An absolute cunt who goes by David McSavage was a dick about it. Basically they were a bunch of nerds who got bullied by the Irish and Canadians (not really, they've said they were on friendly terms with those guys and it was friendly banter, except for David McSavage, who is genuinely a cunt). They go by other names sometimes. Stewart Lee apparently used to call them "The Hanging Around Guys".

Further information can be found in the weirdest fucking article I've ever read (on the subject of me knowing about reviewers besides just Steve Bennett - Jay Richardson, what were you fucking talking about?), but basically, they were known for differentiating themselves from a previous generation of showbiz shouty fancy comedians, by doing things like wearing t-shirts and listening to indie music and putting a modicum of creativity into their art and not being alcoholics. Membership lists for the Chocolate Milk Gang changes depending who you ask, but the main people involved, in general, were: Josie Long, John Oliver, Andy Zaltzman, Alun Cochrane, Russell Howard, David O'Doherty, Gavin Osborn, Demitri Martin, Flight of the Conchords. Taika Waititi - Cohen at the time - is sometimes mentioned in that mix. Isy Suttie was definitely around and fit the remit. And Daniel Kitson was their, according to those weird fucking articles about it, king.

To get that list of people, I've taken the name that Glenn Wool invented for people who got milkshakes in Edinburgh, and applied it to a slightly more general concept. Not everyone on that list got milkshakes in Edinburgh in 2002, but most did, and all were part of a larger group of nerds doing comedy who crossed over with each other personally and professionally in that era, which is generally what I mean when I say "Chocolate Milk Gang".

Andy largely ended up in this group because his writing and performing partner, John Oliver, was so close to the ringleader/king Daniel Kitson. John Oliver and Daniel Kitson had repeatedly described each other as best friends. John also brought in Gavin Osborn, his friend from school and/or youth theatre. Gavin was flatmates with John's girlfriend for a time. Basically, John Oliver tied all these people in his life together, and then he fucked off to America, leaving the rest of them behind to keep making stuff with each other. Which they did, but managing it without John in the middle clearly wasn't always their first choice. The number of Chocolate Milk Gang members who have performed art that I have heard on the subject of how it upset them when John Oliver left is... more than three. It's four. I'm thinking of four specific pieces of work right now, though to be fair one of them is just Andy Zaltzman shouting the words "Percy Primetime" at an audience (the others are a song about mix tapes, a show about an apartment that I'm definitely not going to go look at when I fly to London because Crystal Palace isn't a tourist attraction, and a song about a penguin). That's a lot, really. People really, really liked that guy.

Zaltzman and Kitson in particular were a funny combination; whenever they used to end up on stages (or in a radio studio) together, there would be this strong sense of "your best friend is my best friend but God, do we ever have nothing else in common". But they'd give performing together a go, even though Andy Zaltzman is the most socially awkward man in history and has chemistry with no one on Earth except John Oliver. Neither of them seem to "get" the other's comedy in any way, or find much crossover in what they found funny. They shared a flat together in Edinburgh in 2007, where they wrote a sketch for Late 'n' Live in which Andy would pretend to be Daniel Kitson's penis, so that's fun. Andy Zaltzman had a set of about four deliberately bad impressions, which seemed to be the only part of his act that Kitson found funny, but Kitson found them hilarious and made Andy do them every time they performed together.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm trying to tell this story chronologically, and I've moved right past what Andy Zaltzman has referred to as: “The day in June 2006 when [John Oliver] told me he wanted to do the Daily Show job in America instead of going with me to Edinburgh to talk to twenty-five people a day in a darkened room.”

At the time, Zaltzman and Oliver were in the process of writing their third joint stand-up hour, for Edinburgh 2006. This show had already been submitted to the festival, as evidenced by some screenshots of the 2006 Edinburgh program:

The 2006 Edinburgh program also advertised:

And it was the debut year for the Chocolate Milk Gang mixed bill Honourable Men of Art, also already in the program with John's name:

According to Andy Zaltzman, in June 2006, he learned three things very close together, on almost the same day. The first thing he learned is that the BBC had cancelled The Department. This radio show was the only consistent thing Andy had going in his career besides live stand-up. He was counting on The Department getting bigger and maybe picked up for TV, so losing it was a significant blow. The second thing he learned, at almost the same time, was that his wife was carrying their first child. And the third thing he learned was that John Oliver was going to move to America right before their Edinburgh run was set to begin. Andy Zaltzman has described June/July 2006 as not a particularly fun time (John Oliver, on the other hand, has described summer 2006 as the time he lost his radio show and thought his career was fucked, so it's a good thing The Daily Show job came along to save him, because otherwise he'd have ended up stuck in the career path he was on in England, which was terrible, it sure would suck to have to stay on that path).

Andy Zaltzman has even said that if it hadn't been for his marriage and having a kid on the way, he might have moved to New York with John to try to keep performing as a double act, since he didn't have enough of a career in Britain to be worth staying for, and all the success he'd had had come from the Zaltzman and Oliver partnership.

I see why Andy Zaltzman found that partnership and briefly considered whether it might be worth moving across an ocean to preserve it. They worked so well together. They got each other's style of comedy, they were similar enough to fit together but different in the right ways to complement each other. They had incredible chemistry together, of the type that Andy had with, as I've said, no one else in the world. Andy had had to start his own comedy night (Political Animal) just because his style was so offbeat that it didn't fit in on regular mixed bills and it annoyed audiences who hadn't come for that specific niche, and the Zaltzman/Oliver double act saved him from having to sell that niche by himself. He was, as he describes it, not excited to have to go back to doing it alone.

He was also not excited to have to turn their double act Edinburgh show into a solo show at the last minute. But he did it, going to Edinburgh 2006 and performing a show called Andy Zaltzman Detonates 70 Minutes of Unbridled Afternoon ("It's important work Zaltzman is doing, at least compared to most other comics, and deserves to be heard if only he was a bit more fluid in its telling" - Steve Bennett, 2006). I guess it's a better title than Andy Zaltzman Goes By Himself to Edinburgh to Talk to Twenty-Five People a Day in a Darkened Room. In Edinburgh 2006, Andy also hosted Political Animal on his own, and turned up to Honourable Men of Art, where they occasionally had John Oliver via the best live video linkup technology 2006 had to offer.

After this, Andy Zaltzman spent a year performing on his own. In 2007 he performed at MICF for the first time, where one time he stayed up all night in a radio studio with Daniel Kitson, playing BBC sound effects and Boney M songs, and Daniel made him do his Marvin Gaye impression. He also went on the Triple M radio show Get This, and was very socially awkward. Then he won the Piece of Wood Award for having other comics vote his show the best one, so that's cool. Clearly he must have been doing something all right, in a year that he's since described in interviews as very rough overall.

And then he was approached by TimesOnline, a subdivision of The Times, to start a trans-Atlantic podcast. The idea was that John Oliver would go into a studio in New York City, and Andy Zaltzman would go into a studio in London, and they would talk to each other about the week's news, and someone would produce and edit it, and that would be a newfangled thing called a podcast. Like the thing that Andy's sister Helen had just started doing. Andy Zaltzman said yes because, in his words, he had "Jack K. Shit" else going on and it was a chance to reunite the double act that had been working for him. John Oliver said yes because, in his words, it is a treat to get to listen to Andy Zaltzman talk for an hour a week. I think John meant it when he said that, because John Oliver had a very good and very busy job as a writer and correspondent on The Daily Show at the time, in addition to a stand-up career in the States and an increasing schedule of events with major American comics, so it's not like he took the Bugle job because he needed the money or the profile boost. I think he really did consider it a treat to listen to Andy Zaltzman talk for an hour a week. And what a treat that is.

They set up a format in which they'd talk on the phone for a bit earlier in the week, to establish a list of topical subjects to cover. Then they'd go away and each write their own material on those subjects. Then on Fridays, they'd connect from their separate studios and discuss the subjects with their material ready. The best bits made it into their respective stand-up shows.

From the beginning, they both contributed a lot to the podcast, but Andy drove the dialogue and tended to come a little more prepared, as is reasonable, given that John Oliver had other shit going on. The Bugle ran in its original form from October 2007 to March 2016, and in that time, Andy Zaltzman turned over an incredible amount of material. It is honestly amazing how much new stuff he came up with every week. Yeah, he had some ideas and concepts that he re-used, and yeah, not 100% of it was solid gold. But a lot of it was very funny. Funny, dense comedy that was new every single week.

Andy Zaltzman is the most creative comedian I've ever heard. I mean, obviously I guess that depends on your definition of "creative", I've seen some comedy shows where it's so creative that I have no idea what's going on (these are called "clowning"). But within the parametres of just writing straightforward stand-up material, I have never heard anything as creative as Andy Zaltzman. He hits a topic from so many directions that no one else would think of. He reaches for absurd comparisons, turns of phrase that make me run back the recording because I could never catch all the meanings at once, five or six different jokes embedded into one sentence. The number of obscure references to history and/or sport and/or Greek mythology (he didn't study Classics for nothing) he can get into any paragraph is blinding. He's fucking amazing.

More than that, The Bugle with Zaltzman and Oliver was an amazing piece of media. It is incredible how they blended interactivity with tightly written material. Comedians riffing with each other is fun because it feels real and immediate and unrehearsed. Carefully written stuff is good because writing something with care gives comedians the time to make it funnier. The Bugle was Zaltzman and Oliver taking their jokes that they'd crafted to be as funny as possible, and using them as the basis for otherwise spontaneous interaction, so they got the best of both worlds. And it worked, every time, because they have the best chemistry I've ever heard in all of comedy. They were like athletes who could always tell where the other was going to end up, they could take their bit and make sure it would land in just the right spot to work with what the other person would have. Even though they didn't know exactly what the other person had, because they didn't write it together. But they knew each other so well that they could anticipate. It's amazing. It's a fucking amazing feat of comedy and it should be in some sort of hall of fame.

In 2008, Andy Zaltzman wrote a book. It's called Does Anything Eat Bankers? and it's a collection of absurd comedy mini-essays about the credit crunch. It's the most 2008 thing I've ever read. It made me laugh out loud a lot. It's available on eBay for insultingly cheap prices and is an excellent summary of Zaltzman's offbeat sense of humour.

From 2007-2014, Andy Zaltzman hosted Political Animal in Edinburgh every year. Usually on his own, though in 2011, John Oliver flew to Edinburgh and they did a few reunion Political Animal gigs, featuring Daniel Kitson reprising his role as God in their God sketch. Andy also kept up his Chocolate Milk Gang membership over those years, doing the Honourable Men of Art gig when it came back in 2008, appearing at some Kitson-compered Late 'n' Lives in the 00s, and at some Kitson-compered Chocolate Milk Gang reunion shows in later years (ZOCK, Fuckstorm 3000, Fuckstorm 3001). Andy did the impressions when Kitson told him to, even though by then he'd long dropped them from his regular act. Andy also performed new Edinburgh solo shows nearly every year from 2007 to 2019 (missing 2009, 2012, and 2015), usually with long convoluted titles in the style of Zaltzman and Oliver ("Life is convoluted, my comedy merely reflects that" - Andy Zaltzman).

In 2014, Andy started doing Satirist For Hire, a show he continued touring off and and on until 2022, in addition to his regular stand-up shows. In Satirist For Hire, the audience could write in with the date they were attending and a subject for Andy to satirize, and the show would consist of him satirizing audience-requested topics. It wasn't improv or anything, he'd get the topics in advance and write stuff about them, new stuff for every show. Which sounds like a ridiculous amount of work, but he was already doing that kind of thing for The Bugle, writing new stuff constantly. Some of these got recorded and released on filler weeks of The Bugle. Topics he got asked to satirize included all 721 Pokemon by name, the autumn equinox, the rebellion in Syria, and his own mother-in-law. He released a DVD of Satirist For Hire that was filmed in 2014, in which he performed the bespoke satire as well a "best of" his other old and new jokes, including some stuff that dates back to the Zaltzman and Oliver catalogue of the early 00s. It also has a DVD extra that's Andy just telling a weird story with no punchline, it's really annoyingly rambling and pointless, even for him. It's great.

During the original run of The Bugle, there were a lot of jokes in which John would tell a star-studded story about his life with celebrities in New York City, and Andy would say he'd had a good pastrami sandwich that week. There were slightly less funny parts at the end of the episodes, in which John would plug some big American event he was doing, and Andy would make a vague plea about small-time stand-up gigs that he couldn't sell. As The Bugle went on, Andy started doing slightly bigger stand-up gigs and sounding slightly less concerned about lack of tickets sold (due to him building up an audience of Bugle fans), though it still didn't look great when put next to John Oliver's projects.

Alongside this, Andy Zaltzman started getting jobs in the world of cricket as well. He was a massive, utterly obsessed cricket fan, made a lot of cricket references in his stand-up and on The Bugle, and at some point some people took notice and started inviting him to do cricket things. Spots on sports shows in which he'd analyze cricket. Cricket commentary. Collation of cricket stats. After several years of this, he started getting to travel for it, announcing on The Bugle that he'd be doing stand-up gigs in Bangladesh because he was going there anyway to attend cricket games and be paid to commentate on them. He doesn't have personal social media, but he does have a Twitter account that Tweets nothing but obscure cricket stats that he has personally worked out. What a weird guy, spending all his own time gathering information about one niche subject and then collating all the stuff from various sources and posting his findings on the internet. Nerd. You wouldn't catch me doing that.

Off the success of The Bugle, he started getting some other stuff. He was a regular host for a while on the Radio 4 panel show called 7 Day Sunday, where he worked with Chris Addison and Al Murray and Rebecca Front, I have frustratingly never been able to find episodes of that show. He got a Radio 4 mini-series called Andy Zaltzman’s History of the Third Millenium, which I have also never been able to find. He started appearing as a guest on The News Quiz somewhat regularly. He did that one episode of 8 Out of 10 Cats one time, and it was very awkward. Stewart Lee put him on Alternative Comedy Experience.

In 2008, John Oliver released a stand-up DVD called Terrifying Times. Andy flew to New York to appear in the recording of it. He came on stage a couple of times, for a few minutes each time, interacting with John so they could include some of their joint sketch material in the DVD. There's also a DVD extra that's a conversation between Zaltzman and Oliver, which is hilarious.

In 2012, Andy Zaltzman again went to New York, to perform some stand-up on John Oliver's New York Stand Up Show (along with Chocolate Milk Gang's David O'Doherty), a confusingly titled American television program with various comedians doing short sets compered by John Oliver. After years of relentlessly making fun of John on The Bugle for how he started saying "gotten" once he'd been in America for a bit, Andy got on American TV and immediately said the word "sports", which was adorable. He tried to fit in. It didn't really work and the crowd didn't know what to make of him, but he tried.

In the original run of The Bugle, Andy Zaltzman really honed his trademark style. It was marked by absurd analogies that treat any of the following like each other: sports, politics, Greek mythology, religion, current events, and occasionally a movie or something. He started doing "pun runs", where he'd spend several minutes doing one coherent monologue in which he'd make as many puns as possible themed around a single subject, usually while John Oliver screamed in agony in the background (you'd think it would stop being funny but it didn't, at one point he started using a little bell to mark each pun). Jokes with footnotes. Jokes where the joke is that the story is pointless. Everything he said carefully and tightly wrapped in at least 18 layers of irony. A running joke in which he'd introduce each Bugle episode by discussing something obscure that had happened in history on the day they were recording. So many cricket and snooker references.

An audio cryptic crossword that ran for the first thirty or so Bugle episodes, in which he'd read out a clue every week, but the clue wasn't to anything that made sense, it was just to some shit he'd made up in his head, and he never released a visual to accompany it. Yet it did work, some people at home actually solved it all and wrote it all out and it all fit together perfectly (that is how you do a crossword, Pemberton).

Massive truckloads of absurdity dumped with increasing urgency all over current events, as though he thought he could bury the dark realities under it. Zaltzman and Oliver's name for this absurdity was "bullshit"; it used to be a running joke that they'd advertise The Bugle by promising it would be completely free of facts, providing the best bullshit you've ever heard. Long, intricate bullshit that all ties together and keeps going just when you think there can't be any more to this story that Andy has entirely made up. Like the athletes he wrote about at university, no one can sue him for libel because they don't actually exist.

One time their producer Chris Skinner accused them of having an especially sweary Bugle, so far containing "twelve fucks and one cunt", and Andy said that's the Jewish view of the New Testament, and they (rightly) talked for like three years about how good a joke that was to come up with off the cuff. Andy's lapsed Jewish-ness is also a frequent topic of his jokes, usually how incredibly lapsed he is, being a massive fan of bacon sandwiches and one time his sister gave him an entire dead pig as a Christmas gift, a story that made it into a Daniel Kitson stand-up show as well as a lot of Bugle jokes about how in most cases that would be a hate crime.

There were also jokes throughout that Bugle run about John Oliver's increasingly high-profile career; Andy gave him the nickname Johnny Showbiz and cheerfully kept telling stories of pastrami sandwiches after John's stories about meeting Samuel L Jackson or whatever. I first listened to The Bugle a few months after I listened to the old Russell Howard/Jon Richardson BBC 6 Music shows, and those were basically an audio documentary of a friendship slowly cracking apart due to one party's jealousy of the other's increasing success (I mean, there were other issues too), so I found The Bugle an odd contrast at first. Because Andy made those jokes, but it sounded like there was absolutely no genuine jealousy behind them. If anything it went the other way, he seemed to vaguely pity John's weird hectic life, and John seemed to generally agree that this was too much celebrity and Andy was better off in his shed. I started wondering: how is Andy this okay with the disparity? Is he hiding the jealousy really well or is he made of stone?

A while into my the first listen-through of The Bugle, after wondering this for a few weeks, I came to the conclusion that the reason Andy Zaltzman sounded unbothered by John Oliver meeting Samuel L Jackson is that Andy Zaltzman truly, deep down to his core, did not want to meet Samuel L Jackson. That man was not impressed by anything in the world that's not a cricket stat or a bad pun, and he entirely meant it when he mercilessly mocked John for the embarrassing transgression of winning an Emmy. That wasn't masked bitterness, he just thought winning an Emmy was genuinely embarrassing. And John Oliver, once again, seemed to basically agree.

In 2011, there was the News of the World scandal, owned by News International, owned by The Times, which owned The Times of London, which owned TimeOnline, which funded The Bugle. Andy and John decided to really go after everyone behind the phone hacking scandal, for several weeks in a row. They didn't just talk about the shit journalists, they went for the entire system of tabloid press and its collusion with government, the people at the top of the both sides of that, everything that allowed this to happen. While doing this, they had a running joke in which they'd tap their mic and ask "Is this on?", implying that their overlords at The Times would cut their mic in retaliation for talking shit about Rupert Murdoch. Then The New York Times wrote an article about what they'd been doing, and they started to sound slightly more genuinely worried that this might get them in trouble.

A couple of months later, for what both sides called unrelated reasons, TimesOnline fired John and Andy, pulling The Bugle's funding. In a Bugle episode in December 2011, they said this might be their last one, they were scrambling to find alternative funding sources but might have to just end the podcast. The tone in that episode made the discrepancies in their careers clear. John repeatedly emphasized how much he loved The Bugle and everything they'd built together, and how he'd like to save it. While Andy had a lot more genuine desperation in his voice as he again used the term "Jack K. Shit" to describe what else he had going on in his career, he actually needed to #SaveTheBugle. You can see that as well in how careful they both were. John and Andy both said they were dropped for apolitical reasons, just lack of funding. But John messed around a bit and implied that this may not be the whole truth, while Andy sounded less willing to possibly get them in more trouble. Years later, in a 2023 episode of the rebooted Bugle, the subject of The Times came up, and Andy offhandedly mentioned that The Bugle used to be funded by The Times, until they were dropped "suspiciously shortly after" they made a bunch of Rupert Murdoch jokes. This was the first time Andy had acknowledged a possible connection, and I liked that, like a sign that he'd finally achieved enough success independently so he could afford to talk like that a bit too.

I made a compilation of this situation a couple of years ago. Most of the Bugle bits in it are John Oliver's lines, because the compilation was meant to contrast John Oliver's running joke on Last Week Tonight where he'd talk shit about HBO's parent company AT&T, referring to them as "business daddy" and gloating about how he could do that without getting in trouble, with the time in 2011 when he went on The Bugle and talked shit about their business daddy and did in fact get in trouble. Andy had a lot of good jokes about Rupert Murdoch and The Times during those episodes, they mostly aren't in this compilation because they weren't as relevant to the Bugle-LWT John Oliver Versus Business Daddy narrative, but the compilation still tells the story. Also I illustrated it with a bunch of amusing old Zaltzman and Oliver pictures.

youtube

In early 2012, they came back and announced that they had managed to sell enough listener subscriptions to keep The Bugle going independently. The Bugle continues to run that way to this day, free to listen to but funded by optional listener subscriptions, no ads (aside from a short time in 2018 when they partnered with Radiotopia and Andy had to read out those mattress ads and stuff, and you could hear his soul sinking into the floor, luckily that didn't last long), just because they created a product that's good enough to be worth its audience paying for. It also gets funded by merch sales and things. They have hats and socks.

The Bugle ran for a couple more glorious years as an independent podcast fronted by Zaltzman and Oliver. Then in summer 2013, Jon Stewart went away to film a movie and John Oliver filled in as a guest host for The Daily Show. John Oliver would do a fantastic job fronting America's flagship topical comedy show all week, and then come on The Bugle on Friday and lament how badly it was going and how he couldn't wait to get back to the sidelines where he belonged. But after that, as he'd proven his abilities as a host, HBO offered John Oliver his own weekly show. In December 2013, John Oliver proceeded to have a breakdown, but still left The Daily Show to start Last Week Tonight.

As shown in the compilation I've just linked, which is entitled Johnny Showbiz Gets His Own Show and Has a Breakdown, they promised at the time that this would absolutely not affect The Bugle. They promised! Repeatedly. I mean, they sounded at the time like they were trying to convince themselves and each other as much as the listeners, but still, they promised.

They mostly kept that promise for about a year, taking a few more breaks than usual throughout 2014 to accommodate John's busier schedule, but I don't think The Bugle declined in quality when it did go out. And given how few weeks off they'd had since October 2007, even The Bugle with extra breaks was still a hell of a lot of comedy material for them to turn over. They took a break for the whole summer in 2014, their first time taking more than a couple of weeks off in a row, but came back with a great run of episodes in the fall.

Andy did mention to Stuart Goldsmith, in a 2014 interview, that he was hoping he might be able to be involved with Last Week Tonight in some way, at some point. It's not clear whether he ever mentioned this to John Oliver. Seems like the sort of thing he should have maybe mentioned to John Oliver, instead of saving it for an uncharacteristically vulnerable podcast interview. But maybe he did ask John Oliver for that and it just didn't work out. He doesn't say. It certainly didn't end up happening.

Then, throughout 2015, The Bugle died a slow and incredibly painful death. They kept doing filler episodes, in which Andy would explain that John was busy, but promise he'd be back next week. Then, often, nothing, not even a filler episode, for weeks. Before 2015, they always put out an episode every week, usually a new episode, but if they didn't have one, there would be filler: an outtakes show or a best-of show or some recordings of stand-up or something. One time the producer Chris Skinner strung together a whole filler episode by doing things like interviewing their friend Alun Cochrane (back when Alun Cochrane was cool, Alun Cochrane is now no longer cool). But in 2015, they began to hit the limit on the number of weeks in a row when they could do filler episodes, so they started just putting out fuck all.

John Oliver did turn up for Bugle episodes occasionally in 2015, but when he did, he sounded increasingly distracted and like his heart wasn't in it. Which is fair enough, because we now know that he spent 2015 trying to write and present a research-intensive weekly HBO show, as well as caring for his wife while she had a high-risk pregnancy. It's as good an excuse as I've ever heard to not be able to talk shit about Bashar al-Assad or the band LMFAO with Andy Zaltzman every week (also, you have to give John Oliver credit for the fact that he did The Bugle very well for years despite never actually needing it, and was just in it for the love of the game). But he probably should have just said that, rather than clearly telling Andy all the time that he'd be back soon, which we know he was doing because Andy sounded like he believed it when he relayed that message to the listeners, and then it kept not happening.

To be fair, Andy also should have called time on the podcast way earlier - at the very least announcing an extended break, if not just acknowledging that it's not going to work anymore and ending it. Instead, Andy kept coming back to introduce filler episodes and promise us John would be back soon. And every once in a while he'd do a frustrated new episode with a checked-out John Oliver. I listened to the worst of this period of The Bugle within a couple of days, and that was rough, hearing it all at once like that. Had me yelling at my phone, "Oh my God, stop it! Just put it out of its fucking misery! This is an ex-podcast! Stop nailing it to a perch and trying to sell it back to us!"

Andy mentioned the "Jack K. Shit else going on" thing a couple of times as a reason for why he kept trying, but I don't even think that was true anymore. He had a big stand-up audience garnered by the success of The Bugle. He had his cricket career. He had regular radio work. He didn't have some big TV career or anything, but he had enough to be getting on with. Enough so he did not have to be as desperate as he got about trying to keep a podcast going when it was clearly over.

I think he was scared to try to do his comedy career without basing it around bouncing stuff off John Oliver. As his comedy career did have a history of spectacularly not working when he wasn't working with John.

Throughout 2015, Andy's increasing frustration could be heard in his voice during intros for the podcast filler episodes, and in the recordings of his 2015 stand-up that got released as said filler. He developed a joke in which he'd ask the audience who's heard of John Oliver, find the one or two people who said no, and shout, "Fuck you Percy Primetime, everyone in this room has heard of me!" "Percy Primetime" was a nickname spat with quite a bit less affection than the old "Johnny Showbiz". For the record I don't think they had a real falling out or anything, but there was some genuine bitterness there for the first time after all those years of fame disparity, it finally became clear that Andy Zaltzman's not actually made of stone.

In early 2016, The Bugle came back with one full episode that was actually very good, John and Andy were both really into it. John Oliver apologized for the many jokes he'd made in previous years about how funny it would be if Donald Trump ran for president, and they announced that The Bugle would be continuing for the forseeable future, just going once a month instead of once a week, so they could stop with the filler stuff and be more realistic about what was possible around new schedules. Then two months later, they came back and admitted this was not, in fact, realistic, and John was leaving The Bugle. Andy announced his plan to reboot the podcast in the fall, with John Oliver replaced by a rotating series of co-hosts from around the world. Andy sounded fairly terrified of this prospect.

The last episode of the John Oliver-era Bugle was number 295, and for reasons that Andy Zaltzman finds funny, he made the first episode of the new era episode 4001. This came out on October 24, 2016, and featured Hari Kondabolu as the guest co-host. Hari's a New York comedian whom I assume was recommended by John Oliver, as I can't imagine how else he and Andy would have crossed paths, and they sure didn't sound like two people who had ever encountered each other before. It was fucking awkward. It didn't help that it was a couple of months before the Donald Trump election, so a pretty intense time to try to just jump back into topical comedy with a "get to know the rebooted podcast" episode.

Basically, if Andy Zaltzman feared that his offbeat niche humour would not work without the one comedian in the world who was tailor-made to fit into it... those fears were not alleviated in that first episode. Hari Kondabolu is awesome, he has since become one of my favourite Bugle guests and I've gotten into his own stand-up, but that first time, he had no fucking idea what to make of Andy, and not much of an idea of what he'd signed up for with The Bugle. Andy had no idea how to talk to anyone in the world who isn't John Oliver. It was weird.

Episode 4002 featured Nish Kumar, who came in and immediately shouted "Fuck you Chris!", which was a running joke from the John Oliver-era Bugle (referring to producer Chris Skinner, John and Andy and the listeners would affectionately say "fuck you" to Chris a lot for reasons that made sense at the time), an instant way to assure the audience that he knew exactly what he'd signed up for. Nish had been listening to The Bugle since it started when he was still doing student comedy, and as far as I can tell, he'd pretty much climbed the ranks of the comedy industry in the hopes of someday getting to touch the garment of his heroes Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver (he might have had one or two reasons besides that, but it was mainly that one). And he got his wish. He's now the second most frequent co-host of the Bugle 4000-series (after Alice Fraser), and one time he got to play football with John Oliver and they got into fights on the pitch.

The Bugle continued on shaky ground for the first 25 episodes or so, really for the first 50. Andy has said since that he knows those episodes were rough, that he'd got so comfortable in his familiar rapport with John Oliver that he just couldn't generate the same thing with people he didn't know as well, and he didn't know anyone as well as John. Though it clearly wasn't just about who he knew as well as John, but who he could comfortably work with as well as John (which was no one). Helen Zaltzman came on a few of those early episodes, and she was a fantastic guest, really funny and took Andy to task and held her own on every subject, but it is incredible how little chemistry Andy Zaltzman managed to have with his own sister. He brought in Anuvab Pal, a comedian from Mumbai whom Andy knew from his time covering cricket over there, they were friends in real life, but they often sounded like they'd never met before. The only person Andy sounded like he knew how to talk to at all was Nish, whom he'd known for a few years through stand-up by the time the Bugle 4000-series started. The Nish Kumar episodes were the best ones, especially early on, but it wasn't anywhere near the levels of Zaltzman and Oliver chemistry.

Andy has said in interviews since that he was struggling during that time, and that started occasionally making its way into the Bugle content, which previously had rarely been particularly personal. At the end of 2016, Andy Zaltzman did a year-in-review stand-up show (something he did every year for a while, a whole stand-up show written to only be performed one time to mark the end of the year), and (on the subject of reviewers who aren't Steve Bennett), Dominic Maxwell in The Times (fuck off, Times) wrote a review in which he called Andy "John Oliver's left-behind sidekick". Andy brought that up on The Bugle several times, citing the "sidekick" line with real bitterness, and rightly so. Partly because he has never been anyone's sidekick (except maybe Daniel Kitson's once in a while at old Late 'n' Live gigs), and partly because that was a solo stand-up show that was not affiliated with The Bugle and definitely had nothing to do with John Oliver, so he shouldn't have been put in John Oliver's shadow in a context like that. It was actually a 4-star review, Maxwell liked the show. But the review's first paragraph was:

Why has John Oliver become a star in America while his old partner in seemingly shambolic yet secretly serrated political satire, Andy Zaltzman, remains a cult comedian with a sideline as a cricket stats man? Is it because Zaltzman, with his receded Harpo Marx explosion of hair, is less telegenic than Oliver, with whom he co-hosted the podcast The Bugle until last year? Is it because, although he is every bit as grounded in reality as Oliver, Zaltzman is a more devotedly loopy joke-writer, so that he always adds his own twist of wry absurdism to our leaders’ already skewed logic?

Starting a four-star review with that is one hell of a backhanded compliment, no matter how positive you go on to be about the show itself. I assume that review was the main one - probably among plenty of other reviews that had built up Andy's resentment over time, but that Maxwell one was clearly the straw that broke his back - that led Andy to record this "interview with himself" to put in the "in the bin" section at the beginning of a Bugle episode in early 2017.

So the stone was starting to show serious cracks at that point. At one point in 2017, Andy plugged his upcoming run at MICF, saying it would be good to perform in Australia because his career could "flush down the toilet in the other direction" for a bit. Nish Kumar laughed way too hard at that, I remember saying to my phone, "Nish, stop! Can't you see he's having a breakdown? Stop laughing at that and give the man a hug!"

It was hard to listen to the most stoically-dedicated-to-irony-and-bullshit man I'd ever heard have a breakdown, but things eventually got steadier. Andy did some episodes from MCIF in Melbourne, and on Bugle episode 4023, in April 2017, he brought in Australian comedians Tom Ballard and Alice Fraser. Tom and Alice both became Bugle regulars, but Alice especially started doing it all the time. Alice, like Nish, told stories of how she'd been a dedicated listener to the original run of The Bugle since before she'd started stand-up, and you can see Andy's influence on her comedic style (you can see it in Nish's too - John and Andy both influencing Nish a lot, while Alice is a lot more like Andy than she is like John).

The inclusion of Alice Fraser changed the game for the rebooted Bugle, as she quickly became a very frequent presence, and Andy developed as good a rapport with her as he could have with almost anyone. There are some sweet moments in her early episodes when Alice would pull out some Zaltzman-esque puns or absurd analogies, and Andy would sound genuinely touched that someone else was into his weird niche humour. He immediately started including her in some bit parts of his stand-up shows too, whenever he was in Australia or she was in England.

The Bugle also got better once they started doing two guests at a time instead of just one. Andy has said since that at some point he realized he and John Oliver had good enough chemistry to carry an entire episode, but he couldn't manage that with anyone else. However, he could do it if there were three people, so the guests could interact with each other too, and the three different types of interactions could get them through the 40-45 minutes more easily. They also started doing Bugle live shows, which went well, got toured in England and even in America.

Since then, The Bugle has grown into a thing that is new and very different from its original form, but also very good. As of May 2024 they've just hit episode 4304, having recently passed the 295 episodes that Andy did with John Oliver. Its format has changed. People still turn up with pre-written stuff, but it's not the same perfectly choreographed/somehow improvised dance of tightly written material that it used to be. It's got a wider range of guests, more diverse topics, fewer insular in-jokes. Some other format changes too, like dropping the listener correspondence. But a lot of the guest co-hosts breathe new life into it, bring different perspectives and styles of humour, contribute more than the original version with only two people ever could. It's introduced me to lots of great comedians from various countries (well, mainly Britain and America and Australia, but a couple from India, a couple from Ireland, one I really like from NZ), I've gotten into a lot of people's stand-up because I liked them on The Bugle. They've also created spinoff podcasts, like The Gargle, hosted by Alice Fraser.

The Bugle 4000 has brought in a bunch of comedians from the younger generation, but also let Andy bring in some old friends. David O'Doherty and Josie Long of the Chocolate Milk Gang have done it a few times, they make top quality episodes. Mark Steel's been on a bunch of times, who used to do the earliest days of Political Animal and of course is a king of Radio 4 along with Andy. Mark and Andy are great together, you can hear how much they enjoy each other's company, to the point where part of me dreads the day when Andy decides to be nice to his buddy Mark and let Mark bring his son to work. I don't think they'd do that though, The Bugle has standards. No Elliot Steel, please.

A big highlight of Andy bringing back old friends is Chris Addison, who worked on The Department back in 2004-06. Addison stopped doing stand-up years ago as he got a bigger career in acting and directing and things like that, and he's said he loves doing The Bugle because it gives him a chance to write comedy material the way he doesn't anymore. And because it's the only time he does that, he's not throwing his scraps at a topical podcast while spreading ideas across multiple platforms. He's coming up with solid gold, and letting The Bugle have all of it. Every time he comes on, he does his homework so well beforehand that the other comedians, including Andy, have to raise their game to keep up.

As for Zaltzman himself, he had some shaky times for his comedy material in those early reboot days. He started seeming burned out from writing so much without getting anywhere, and was re-using a lot of concepts for a while. It wasn't bad, but he did stop innovating for a while after John Oliver disappeared. The absurd scenarios in his monologues got a bit by-the-numbers.

However, as The Bugle found its feet in the new era, Andy broke through that and started writing better than ever before. He, as they say in sports and video games, jumped levels. Suddenly came out of a plateau and immediately jumped to a much higher spot than one would expect, like the slow and steady escalation of talent suddenly caught up to him all at once. Like magic. That is one of my favourite things about sports, when an athlete suddenly jumps levels, like magic. Andy jumped levels a couple of times in the late 2010s, and it was so cool to listen to. A big part of it was the way he'd tie together lots of ideas at once instead of hitting them one at a time, the way he'd make connections that turned his monologues into more than the sum of their parts.

He really, really hit a stride in 2019, as the world went to shit around him, and he started incorporating a bit more genuine emotion than he ever had before. So many emotions, all of them various flavours of searing fury at the state of the government. At first the bits of emotion were added unexpectedly, like he was experimenting with it, but then he learned how to blend it seamlessly into his previous knack for absurd ironic bullshit, it was amazing and I think he was growing into one of the best comic writers there is.

I sort of have a theory about that, which unfortunately gets me into a sports analogy so I hope I can be indulged in that briefly. As a coach, I am very familiar with the phenomenon where two athletes work with almost no one but each other for years. In some ways it makes them much better than they could be otherwise, because they're constantly being challenged by someone who knows their style inside and out, so they have to constantly evolve in order to stay ahead of the other person figuring out how to counter what they do, pushing each other to higher levels of the sport. But in other ways, they often end up with big holes in their game, because they never learn to respond to anything their main training partner doesn't do.

I think that may have slightly happened with Zaltzman and Oliver. And more to Zaltzman than to Oliver, because John was doing all kinds of other things, writing for The Daily Show with lots of people who weren't Andy Zaltzman. While the main thing Andy did was write for The Bugle. Even in his solo stand-up career, most of his shows were the best bits of what he came up with for The Bugle, so they were still written first for the purpose of bouncing off John Oliver.

So much of the beauty in the original Bugle was the way John and Andy found each other so funny, they were writing to make each other laugh. But this meant Andy Zaltzman was restricted to material that would fit his established role in a double act. The role of being the intellectual one who comes at things sideways while John tackles them head-on. That role did not leave him space to experiment with things like genuine emotion, even in spots where that could make a routine stronger. I can think of a few Zaltzman routines from 2019 that wouldn't have worked on the original Bugle, not because they wouldn't make John Oliver laugh, but because they wouldn't really have complemented John's stuff in the right way. The original Bugle had a perfect balance of comedic styles, which was what made it great, but you can't go throwing curve balls at a balance.

So my theory is that, once Andy got away from being restricted to the perfectly chosen double act role, and he then got over his slump from when he was upset about losing the double act/possibly worried he couldn't do it on his own, he had a couple of levels that were ready to be jumped. The Bugle released a bunch of the recording from Andy Zaltzman's year-in-review stand-up show from the end of 2019, and it's incredible. The "best of" from an absolutely stellar Bugle year, taking the strongest bits from all those weeks he'd spent writing, and tying them around some structure. It's one of the best fucking things I've ever heard. Andy Zaltzman does everything at once in it.

In 2019, Miles Jupp left The News Quiz, a major topical comedy panel show on Radio 4 (I'm pretty sure it's the major comedy show on Radio 4). Angela Barnes, Nish Kumar, and Andy Zaltzman - three of The News Quiz's most frequent guests at the time - each spent some time guest hosting it, as they applied for the role of permanent host. Andy got the job. He mentioned this on The Bugle during the week before his first episodes of The News Quiz as permanent host, and did it with his usual flair for self-promotion, which is almost none, he just said it's happening. Fortunately Nish Kumar was on that Bugle episode with him, and Nish insisted on interrupting Andy to tell the listeners what a big deal The News Quiz is, that Andy won't brag about it but he got a huge job on a flagship show after years and years of smaller spots on radio shows and earning his place there, and it's really cool. It was adorable to hear Nish hyping up Andy for getting a job for which (Nish didn't mention this part) Nish Kumar had also applied.

In October 2022, John Oliver came back for a special Bugle 15th birthday episode, just him and Andy for half an hour, and it made me have to pull my hat down on the bus so people couldn't see that I had tears in my eyes from laughter (honestly, I should have anticipated that and not listened to it on the bus). It had been years since they'd worked together, and they mentioned during that episode that they hadn't seen each other in years and hadn't even had much contact since the end of The Bugle, but somehow they fell right back into the perfect rhythm. It's nice to know the magic's still there, even if they're not using it anymore.

So that pretty much brings you up to speed with where Andy Zaltzman's at now. For the last few years, his career has been hosting The Bugle in its expanded form that includes live shows sometimes, hosting The News Quiz, collating cricket stats and still doing lots of cricket-related work. He hasn't done a new Edinburgh hour since 2019, but he toured Satirist For Hire in 2022. He definitely can't describe his career with the term "Jack K. Shit going on" anymore.

Quick question, just asking for a friend - how many thousand words do you have to write before something goes from being "quite long for a Tumblr post" to "quite short for a biographical book"?

In fall 2023, Andy Zaltzman mentioned that he "might" have some new stand-up to announce soon. That surprised me, because to be honest, between The News Quiz and The Bugle and the cricket, he's fucking busy these days, and he must be making enough money to not need stand-up. He turns 50 this October. He's been slowing down the stand-up over the last few years, after about twenty years of doing it constantly. I thought he might be winding down that side of his career.

But suddenly, he's mentioning possible new stand-up in 2024. He mentioned it briefly in the fall and then didn't bring it up for so long that I started to think he must have changed his mind about it. But then, in spring 2024, he suddenly started talking about live gigs again. He booked some WIPs in May and June and plugged them on The Bugle. He slowly, with his usual level of self-promotional skills, barely admitted to the fact that he has a whole stand-up tour planned for November 2024. "November 2024?" I thought. "That seems odd. Andy rarely plans so far ahead, he's usually scrambling to plug gigs he forgot he has next week. And now, when I'd thought he might be leaving stand-up behind, he's planning an entire tour many months in advance. Why did he suddenly decide to do a whole big stand-up tour again, and once he did decide that, why did he plan it for so late in the year? I mean, I'm not complaining. More Zaltzman stand-up is great! But it's a break from his usual pattern."

That is what I thought, to myself, as I listened to his updates on The Bugle. And then I sat in the break room at work and I refreshed a page and saw the Taskmaster season 18 lineup and I jumped into the air and all became clear. He's capitalizing. Andy "No Commercial Promotion Skills Whatsoever" Zaltzman is going to capitalize on his fall 2024 Taskmaster bump in popularity by following it up with a tour. I'm so fucking pleased for him.

Guys. It's going to be so good. He's so good, you're all going to love him, I promise. Do you know what it will do to Taskmaster to have someone who can run circles around Alex Horne in the field of analyzing everything via obscure statistics? He's going to make Alex look like an amateur. He's going to have an explanation for every single thing that happens and none of the explanations will be rooted in any kind of reality but they will all make internal sense.

Oh God, people are going to have to talk about him. It is so funny to listen to people try to work out what to make of Andy Zaltzman, particularly if they're not in Andy's carefully curated niche of people whom he's decided he can manage to talk to. Ed Gamble is going to talk about Andy Zaltzman. 17 years after sharing a stage with Andy at Late 'n' Live where Andy declared Marek Larwood the most fuckable member of We Are Klang (he was incorrect, but not for the reasons Tumblr thinks, I would like to immediately apologize for saying that), Greg Davies will have to judge whatever absurd bullshit comes out of Andy's brain. There will be so many cricket references.

Have I mentioned that a cornerstone of Andy Zaltzman's comedy is turning everything into a sport? That's part of his absurd analogies, he analyzes everything as though it's sports. And I love people who analyze Taskmaster as though it's sports. Andy Zaltzman is going to go on Taskmaster and treat it like sports. Oh it's going to be so much fun!

I cannot wait. I cannot fucking wait. I've just realized he's going to have to plug Taskmaster on The Bugle. That'll be weird. Who's on TV now, Johnny Showbiz? I mean, still John, still very much John Oliver, but Andy as well now! You did it, Andy! It only took 17 years!

29 notes · View notes

warrenwitches3 · 1 year

Text

CHAPTER TWO

The walk of silence came to an end as they approached massive double doors that no doubt led to an even bigger room.

‘Like the my old castle back home’ the fair maiden held the doors to comparison, while the one at night raven college have a more dark rusty touch with the grand old wood doors, her castle doors back home were colourful and detailed taking at least over 3 months to make each with details of old stories made of clay and wood, the handles made of gold yet still able to swing open easily even with the sizes they were.

Voices speaking caught her attention and she stopped behind Crowley to wait and listen. He also seemed to be mosey as instead of going in he leaned his ear against the wall. ‘Maybe he wants to know if they realised his absence, he is headmaster after all’

~~~mirror chamber~~~

A short boy with red hair spoke up over the commotion of the other students talking. “We're done with orientation and dorm assignments?” He asked then turned to a group of students near him. “All right, new students—let me be clear. At Heartslabyul House, I am the law. Break the rules, and it's off with your head!” A few people seemed to flinch and step back from him a bit due to his voice raising with the last sentence, even the girl outside the door let out a squeal, although it sounded more like the bugle noise a swan makes.

“Yawn* Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever. I'm going back to the dorm. If you're in Savanaclaw House, follow me.” A boy with feline ears seemed to slope around the place ready to get out, his eyes were dropping, and dropping a bit more now, and now there closed, now he’s letting out what sounds like a snore. His dorm mates sweat dropped at that.

“New students! Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your achievement. As dorm leader of Octavinelle House, I am honored to have the opportunity to support you in what I hope will be a fulfilling campus experience.” The boy with glasses seems to really like his new dorm mates.

“Hey, does anyone know where the headmage went? He disappeared midway through the ceremony...” a pretty looking boy finally spoke up about the problem at hand, took them long enough to notice.

“Some headmage he is.” A voice came out of a tablet contradicting the headmage’s decision to leave.

“Maybe he had a tummyache?” An innocent looking boy with red eyes proposed an even more innocent answer. Suddenly the old wooden doors burst open and crowley stepped through martching to the front with a leashes up cat and a hooded student following behind him.

‘This must be an all boys academy, I see no women in sight’ the new information did not make the maiden any less nervous, she remembers what the last male sorcerer she encountered did to her.

“I most certainly did not!” Crowley even had the heart to seem offended, listening only when it involves himself.

The short red head spoke up “Ah, speak of the devil.”

Crowley seemed to hate her at this moment “If you must know, I was searching for the new student who'd failed to show for orientation.” All eyes turned to her as she tried to stay standing straight and not quiver under their gaze. “You are the only one who has yet to be assigned a dorm. Step up to the Dark Mirror, and be quick about it. I'll watch your weasel.” He showed her to a mirror, one that looked familiar in the sense that her stomach dropped when her eyes met with its own. Even worse was when it spoke to her.

State thy name.

“Yuu..” she felt unsafe giving her name away yet she had to remain some form of strength to show the sorcerers that she wasn’t weak or to be laughed at.

The Dark Mirror seemed to drag out her name. “Yuu…

The nature of your soul is...” the pause it seemed to take was long enough to keep her there until she had to become a swan again.

“...unclear to me.”

“What did you just say?” Crowley seemed appalled and the few that were talking quietly completely stopped, this was shocking enough that they didn’t even make a gossip riot about it.

“I sense no magical power from this one that they themself own, magic from another running through them in such a crewel way perhaps but other then that, none. Soundless. Colorless. Shapeless. Utterly vacant of their own. Therefore, no dorm would be appropriate.

“Are you suggesting that the black carriage went to receive a person who cannot even use magic?But that is absurd! The student selection process has not erred once in its century of existence! How could this have happened?” His yelling of utter nonsense right in her ear made Yuu raise her neck and push her shoulders back a bit.

Grim seemed to struggle in his restraints before getting out “Mmmph! Nnnrgggh... *GASP!* ME! Let ME have this student's seat!” ‘Again what is so special about this school that he has to get in’ she wouldn’t dare say this aloud as people might get offended.

“Not so fast, you hyperactive weasel!” Crowley scolded.

“Unlike that human, I can actually use magic! So let me be a student here! Look, I'll show you! My spells're the cat's meow!” He seemed to charge up, his blue ear flames rising higher.

“Everyone, get down!” The short red head seemed to realise what was happening before others and ducked taking the nearest student down buy the arm with him. Yuu felt someone else yank her down just like everyone was doing with each other, she turned and saw it was the really pretty boy with the blonde hair and.. colour at the tips..?. His eyes seemed to widen a smidge upon seeing her appearance.

“Your a girl..?” She nodded and told him later before they both stood up and looked back at the pyromaniac of a cat.

“Myaaahhh!” He spewed his fire all around the room.

“AHHHHH! HELP! I'm on fire over here!” The boy with the red eyes was panicking not knowing what to do when one’s butt was on fire. So Yuu quickly walked to him and pulled the sleeve of her jacket down a bit before telling him to stay still and began to hit the fire until it died down. He rubbed his but sore from both the fore and the hitting before looking at her. His eyes also seemed to widen making the same realisation as the pretty boy from before.

“Oh! Your a girl!” He seemed to not mind and smiled at her “thanks for that!”

“Your welcome” she gave him a polite smile ‘maybe there all not so bad’

“Someone catch that blasted animal before it sets the entire school ablaze!” Crowley ordered around.

“Ugh. Can I go now, or...?” The boy that was snoozing around before seemed to wake up at the commotion a while ago and watched with bored eyes.

“Oh? I thought you fancied yourself a hunter. Go and help yourself to that plump little morsel!” The pretty boy seemed to snap at the human feline.

“Too much effort. Do it yourself.” He waved the other off

“Allow me to handle this, Headmage Crowley. If none of you are up to the task of catching a small animal, I will accept the responsibility.” He seemed to want something out of this with the tone of his voice, Yuu learned to pick up on this all the time before becoming a swan when she had her lessons as a princess.

“WTG Azul. Rackin' up those participation credits.” Yuu had stared at the floating flat box that seemed to speak words she hadn’t heard before, the box noticed her and flew away a bit into the shadows averting her attention back to the pyromaniac.

“I'm sorry, were my instructions unclear?!” He seemed to stress out the issue ducking from an incoming fire ball.

“Sigh* Preeetty sure you can handle catching one mangy weasel all on your lonesome there, headmage.”

“He’s right” she mumbled out no one hearing her, although the lion boys ear twitched and he looked a bit smug.

“How many times do I gotta say it? I'm Grim, spellcaster extraordinaire! I am NOT a weasel!” It seemed to irritate Grim more calling him names.

“Aren't you a spunky little fellow? Riddle, would you be so kind...?” The boy with glasses, Azul..? Turned to the short red head who’s name is revealed to be Riddle.

“Furry miscreant. I will abide no rule-breaking. You will be judged by my hand.” Riddle seems to bask in the fact that he could stop someone from breaking many rules that we’re definitely in place, one probably being to not set the place on fire.

He pointed what seemed to be a pen with some sort of gem on its end at grim and shouted “Off With Your Head!” A red and black heart shaped collar with gold trim appeared around grins neck weighing him down a bit.

“MYAH?! What are you doing?!” He flailed around.

“The Queen of Heart's Rule 23: "One must never bring a cat to a formal affair. Your very presence here is a violation of order. You will vacate these premises immediately.” He carried a stern voice and upon seeing him like this Yuu could tell he’s done it before multiple times.

“But I ain't a cat either! Don't try to collar me! I'll burn it right off! Huh...? Wh-what gives? My fire ain't workin'!” He tried doing his little charge up but nothing happened for him, the fire on his ears stayed still and no signs of his magic activating appeared. This calmed Yuu down a fair bit and she relaxed herself letting her shoulders and neck fall not holding them up anymore.

“Until I deign to remove that collar, you won't be using any magic. You're naught but a pet cat now.” Riddle now seemed to calm down a bit and talked more smug and relaxed.

“M-meoWHAT?! I ain't nobody's pet-NOTHING!” Grim shook his head.

“Oh, you've nothing to worry about there. I certainly have no interest in having you as a pet. The collar will disappear once you're removed from campus.” He waved the cat off as if he were nothing but a little grass bug, the maiden could tell he was of high status, a noble definitely with the way he carried home self and the confidence he had in his skill, he must be very well trained.

“Ha-HA! Good show as always, Riddle. You're signature spell locks down any magic. It's quite handy. I've just GOT to have it—ah, I mean, I've just got to have respect for it.” Azul seemed to arise a major suspicion in Yuu, she knows how to point out slip ups in their speech and personality and this guy slipped up.

‘He’s definitely a manipulator, look at how he’s obsessing over riddles magic’

“Yuu! Was I not clear that you are expected to take responsibility for your familiar?” Crowley turned to the girl. “Now discipline your—What's that? It isn't yours?”

“Sir, I’ve told you times before, but this creature is not mine, I don’t even know what he is, I’ve never seen a cat like that, especially one that spews fire” she put the emphasis on the words pointing at Grim and trying not to show how overwhelmed she was with a talking, fire magicking cat.

“Oh...Is that so? *Ahem* Then I shall have it expelled from campus. I shall even spare it from being served as dinner. My, but I AM kind. ...Someone take this away, please.” Dinner, this man was even considering making it dinner

“Nooooo! Let me gooooo! You fools better remember my name! Cause I'm gonna go down in the annals of magic history! Just you wait!” Grim kept yelling on his way out of the room.

“I feel a bit bad for the poor thing..” Yuu mumbled, the boy who she had forgotten she was standing next to also nodded at her statement, a bit of a sad look on his face.

“Well, that was quite the unexpected fracas. I hereby declare that orientation has concluded. Housewardens, please escort your students back to the dorms.” He looked around the room for a second. “...Hm? Come to think of it, I don't see Housewarden Draconia of House Diasomnia anywhere.” Yuu had moved back a bit as the commotion picked up again with the new topic.

“And that surprises you? Dude's a total recluse.” The smug human cat rolled his eyes, obliviously not caring about this Draconia.

“Wait a sec... Did anyone even invite him?” The boy she was previously standing next to looked at the others around him awaiting a response.

“If you're that worried about him missing out, maybe you should have told him yourself.” The pretty boy she had first met told the boy with the red eyes.

“Maybe, but I don't know him too well either...” he trailed off. Yuu moved back another step and suddenly bumped into someone.

“Oh! So sorry sir, I didn’t see you” she apologised looking at the person she hit, to say he looked different from what she’s used to is an understatement, he was a bit short and had choppy hair that reached a bit past his chin and.. pink? In his hair. ‘Is that pink streaks in his hair?? How unusual’ the boy looked at her and giggled.

“It’s alright young one” he observed her for a moment, furrowing his brows for a split second before returning to his normal face. “I just need to get passed you m’lady”

“Oh yea of course sorry!” She moved a bit to the side enough so he could get passed her towards the front.

“Thank you beastie” he smiled at her before walking towards the big group. ‘How peculiar of a man he is, but who is beastie..?’ she wondered.

She heard whispers erupt all throughout the room “Draconia... Like, Malleus Draconia? THAT Draconia?”

“So it's true? He really does go to school here?”

“Yikes.”

“Ah. Just as I'd expected.” It was the boy who she ran into before. I figured I'd come down and see for myself whether Malleus had made an appearance. But once again, he was evidently not informed that his presence was required at an official ceremony.” He sighed and shook his head.

“You have my sincerest apologies. I assure you, this oversight was in no way intended as a snub.” Azul apologised

“I mean, you must admit, he's not exactly the easiest person to strike up a conversation with.” Riddle said.

“No matter. All who were assigned to House Diasomnia, follow me. I just hope he doesn't sulk about this.” He waved his hand, mumbling the last part.

“Well, Yuu. This is a most unfortunate turn of events.” Crowley turned to her “I'm afraid that you will not be attending Night Raven Collage after all. Surely you realize that I cannot very well admit a student with no magical ability to my academy”

“That’s alright sir, I didn’t plan on attending your all boys magic school” she took down her hood that was masking her appearance, as well as making her very hot. She played with her hair a bit, neatening it up from its messiness. She heard the man let out a little gasp.

“Your a girl, my this is an even more reason to not admit you into the school I’m afraid, But worry not. The Dark Mirror will see you safely home.”

‘Home, with the others..’ she smiled at the thought, then went sour ‘home where Baron is..’

“Now, step into the gate, and visualize the place you whence you came.” She stepped up and imagined home, with her 11 other siblings and her parents, her father the king, a man of great power who was soft on his daughters yet stern when needed, and of her mother, oh her dear sick mother that she missed dearly, the woman who raised her, the woman that made her cookies within the royal kitchen, the woman who taught her to dance, the loving mother that held her when she cried, the mother that spent all her free time surrounded by her daughters, the woman who taught the youngest 3 daughters to sing carols on Christmas, who taught the twins to sneak off and participate in the royal guard training, the woman who spent her days personally teaching her eldest daughter Yuu, the mother that kissed them all to bed no matter how old they got she would tuck them in and sing a song or tell a story, the woman who started to get more ill it was like a curse that wouldn’t go away, the mother that mourned her children upon hearing of their curse, the woman she left behind.

Her sisters all 11 of them, all turned into swans because of her, they took her fate along with them and carried it for 3 years rarely seeing their parents, following Yuu around, living there lives on a lake, the sisters that she left behind and now they would befall the fate of her curse. The family she would return to.

“O Dark Mirror! Return this soul to where it belongs!” Crowley commanded, yet nothing happened

‘No..don’t tell me’

“Ahem* L-let us, er...try this again. O Dark Mirror! Return this soul—“ he was cut off

“There is no such place.” The dark mirror stated plainly.

‘No..No, no, no’ her mind started panicking, no such place?!.

“What?” Crowlwy asked

“here is no place in this world where this soul belongs.

None.”

“How can that be? My, but today is a veritable cavalcade of impossible phenomena!” Crowley stressed.

The mirror didn’t respond.

“This has never happended throughout my long tenure. I must confess that I am at something of a loss. Tell me: From what land do you hail?” He turned to her and asked.

“I’m from the Rhodanthe”

“Rhodanthe? I'm afraid I am not familiar with such a place.”

“But how, it’s one of the most powerful kingdoms across the land” she tried to block out the thought that drifted at the end of her mind.

“I am intimately acquainted with the origins of every student who has ever come here, and yet... This mysterious homeland of your eludes me. Let us go to the library and look it up, shall we?”

NOTE: that is chapter 3 YAY! I start holidays on Friday but I am going away for about a week so I’ll try to have something at least in the making, I’m glad other are liking this story so tell me what you imagine odette!Yuu to look like and the clothes she wears.

I also took the sisters thing from barbie and the 12 dancing princesses, it’ll provide for good angst in the future and it also says that Odette has other swans with her so I decided to go with that and make them her sisters. Hope you all like this chapter it takes a while to make these but I enjoy it, we’re getting closer and closer to day time in wonderland so I’m exited to write the swan. Also if anyone wants to drop a name for the sisters mother or father I’ll try and use it so I can build up their characters, it just needs to have a medieval touch yk not TO modern and if it comes with a meaning I would love to know that to.

IMPORTANT!! I think I might make other posts like incorrect quotes and stuff based on odette!Yuu and stuff like scenarios or answering questions so I’ll try to see how an ask box or whatever it’s called works and use it, I might even posts other Yuusonas I’ve got but I’ll mainly try to focus on odette Yuu.

Tag list: @just-here-reading

#ballet #malleus draconia #swan lake #twisted wonderland #twst #twst ramshackle #yuu #twisted wonderland crossover #tumblr fyp #twst yuu #yuusona #odette!yuu #twst x barbie #old barbie movies

87 notes · View notes