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im-fairly-whitty · 4 years

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If you're still taking prompts for the witcher wolf fics, may I suggest Jaskier and Geralt using the wolf transformation to sneak Geralt through a castle where he's been forbidden to go, with a side of Geralt taking advantage of his form to act like a cursed fae horror again, like when he killed the bandits?

So clearly this got away from me a bit. Enjoy part 1 of 6 my friend.

In Plain Sight

Chapter 1: Into the Fire

“What if Calenthe doesn’t even let us near her?” Jaskier asked, tipping another log into their campfire as it crackled in the darkness. “I’ve been welcome enough at Ciri’s birthday parties over the years, but not even the princess’ fondness for me will temper the queen’s anger if she so much as remembers you and I know each other.”

“Calenthe has to listen to us, Cirilla is our child surprise.” Geralt said grimly from where he lay on their bedroll, propped up on one elbow under the blanket as he watched Jaskier. “She already knows what can happen if you try to deny destiny, she won’t be foolish enough to try to keep her from us. Not with the Nilfgaardian army advancing.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure when they’d started referring to the Cintran princess as their child surprise, but Geralt had never bothered correcting it once they’d started. It had now been nearly two years since Geralt’s medallion had become enchanted and they’d shared everything since then anyway. Walking the same Path, warming the same bedroll, keeping the same secrets, and—evidently—guarding the same destiny. Sometimes as Witcher and bard, quite often as bard and wolf, but always together and caring for each other. No matter whether they were on the road hunting a contract, performing for a tavern crowd, or wintering at Kaer Morhen.

Or—as had happened several days ago—spotting an entire Nilfgaardian army at Amel Pass who were beating a grim march toward a certain child surprise.

Jaskier chewed his lip as he looked north through the dark trees of the forest they were camped in. North toward Cintra, only a day’s ride away now, a trip he’d made alone many times over the past twelve years.

He hadn’t exactly made a mission of checking in on Geralt’s child surprise every few years without him knowing, it had just…happened… He was one of the continent’s best performers after all, it made sense he’d be in high demand whenever he could slip away from Geralt’s side to play for the charming princess who taken quite the liking to him, a feeling that was mutual between them.

He’d wondered before about whether destiny was involved with how fond he’d become of her. Looking back now it felt very much like Jaskier was a handful of carefully placed colored threads being sharply pulled into place as a tapestry picture was woven with increasing speed. Threads that were tangled him and Geralt and Ciri together into a tightly woven image that was coming into focus both too quickly and not nearly quickly enough.

“Queen Calanthe had no qualms trying to keep Pavetta back from her destiny all those years ago.” Jaskier said. He walked back to Geralt and lay down beside him. He slipped back under the blanket and tucking himself up against his witcher’s warm body. “She only gave in at the end because her castle was about to be ripped apart around us, and I can promise you her stubbornness hasn’t worn down one iota over the years. If you ask me, we ought to slink in the back way and sneak off with the princess before her dear old granny has even realized what’s happened.”

“That’s a spectacularly bad idea.” Geralt said, pulling Jaskier’s back against his chest as he curled around the bard. “I’m finally wearing off on you if your court etiquette’s fallen so far as to allow royal kidnappings.”

Jaskier turned in Geralt’s arms to face him, poking a stern finger at his chest. “If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t even know Cirilla’s name before you went barging into the palace.” He said sternly. “I’m always the brains when we visit a royal court, and as the brains I’m saying it’s going to be no use trying to ask the lioness of Cintra for her last cub and expecting her to take it well, no matter how polite you manage to be.”

“And this isn’t a party we’re dealing with, it’s a fanatical invading army.” Geralt said. He huffed. “And I would have have found out her name even without you, surely I’m not that hopeless.”

“Says the man who had been referring to his own child surprise as a prince for years out of assumption before I corrected you.” Jaskier said dryly. “And I know, all the more reason for us to be careful. We’ll likely only have one chance to make sure she’s safe and if we leave it up to your interpersonal charm you’ll be thrown into a dungeon to rot until the Nilfgaardian soldiers tear the cell down around you.”

“Well then, what do you suggest we do, oh expert of all things Cintra?” Geralt said with a thin sigh, resting his head against their pillow.

“Well first of all, I suggest that we do not parade Geralt of Rivia the Witcher through the front gates of the city for all of Calenthe’s spies to see.” Jaskier said, running his fingers meaningfully along the chain of Geralt’s Witcher medallion. “She forbade you from ever returning to Cintra over a decade ago, she’ll have you killed the moment she catches your scent near her granddaughter. But she won’t be wary of a favorite bard who’s performed in her court several times, along with his new pet wolf.”

“Oh, you’re her favorite bard?” Geralt said with a smirk.

“Calenthe’s favorite bard is the soldier who sounds the war horn as she rides into her latest over-aggressive military effort.” Jaskier said dryly. “If it was up to her I’m sure all royal parties would be replaced with sparring matches between visiting dignitaries.”

“Sounds like an improvement to me.” Geralt said. “Probably get more done that way really.”

“You’re impossible.” Jaskier sighed. “But what I meant is the princess. Ciri knows me and likes me, Calenthe knows that too. It makes me harder to turn away if I were to show up to a party, even without an invitation.”

“Which helps our current situation because…?”

“If you’d been listening to my gossip swapping at the last three taverns we’ve passed through you’d know there’s a Cintrian Royal banquet tomorrow. They’ll be bestowing several titles of knighthood and throwing a party about it.” Jaskier said, idly smoothing a hand down Geralt’s chest. “It shouldn’t be too hard to convince the steward that my wolf and I would make an excellent replacement for the musical entertainment that just disappeared under somewhat mysterious circumstances.”

“We are not killing a bard to get invited to a party.” Geralt said flatly.

“I said disappeared mysteriously Geralt, not killed.” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes. “Honestly. Just give the poor sod a blast of axii once we find him and we’ll pocket his invitation, we’ll say he lined us up as his replacement after a sudden last minute attack of bad stew. It happens in performing circles all the time, the steward won’t care a bit as long as I’m dressed for the occasion, my lute is in tune, and you’re well groomed and polite.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt stared past him and into the trees, quiet for a long moment. “We’re only just ahead of the Nilfgaardians. We’ll arrive tomorrow but they’ll only be a day behind us at most. It doesn’t leave us much time. We just need to know that the princess is safe.”

“Which is why we have to be careful with our one chance.” Jaskier said firmly. “We keep a low profile, get into the castle, eavesdrop until we learn what we need, and then slip out the back way before the Nilfgaardians even arrive. With Cirilla safely in tow if need be. It’ll be over and done before midnight tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Geralt said, mouth still twisted into a worried frown. “We’ll try it.”

“Everything will be alright my wolf.” Jaskier said gently, kissing the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Destiny is on our side and we’re playing our cards wisely, working together we’ll surely win this round.”

Geralt said nothing, only pulling Jaskier closer to bury his face against his neck.

***

“Stick close.” Jaskier said, fingertips idly brushing Geralt’s wolf ears as they wove through the Cintrian marketplace together. “Now isn’t the time to go trailing after cats or meat carts.”

Geralt nipped playfully at his bard’s fingers for his teasing, earning him a smile and a real head scratch as they continued on, simply a bard and his pet wolf to any onlookers.

After two years Geralt could no longer say whether he preferred being a Witcher or being a wolf, because as far as he was concerned both forms were equally his true self. Running on all fours was as natural for him as swinging a sword, silently shadowing Jaskier as his supposed pet was as easy as brewing his hunting potions.

The day was overcast and the market was busy, an oppressive buzz of grim preparation seeped through the marketplace as the Cintran people purchased extra grain, swapped rumors, and sharpened all manner of weapons.

From what they’d gathered from the marketplace chatter the queen had made no public decree concerning the nearing Nilfgaardian army, aside from the command that every citizen should be ready to fulfill their duty should they be called upon. But the clear anxiety of Calanthe’s subjects belied the royal confidence such a bold non-move displayed, information that did nothing to settle Geralt’s fears about the princess’ safety.

Luckily Jaskier had already managed to find a lead on where to find their banquet lutist with a few well placed questions and a handful of coin. Even better, the roaming peacekeeping soldiers had barely given Geralt a second glance when they passed. He idly wondered what might have happened if he had come to the city as a Witcher, but shook off the thought, having more important things to worry about as they ducked out of the way of a tanner’s cart. They just had to-

“I am not. You’re just a sore loser!”

A young girl’s voice slipped through the noise of the crowd from somewhere nearby, catching Geralt’s attention. Geralt stopped dead in his tracks so abruptly it felt like his very bones had made the decision to halt, trapping the rest of Geralt with them as the bustle of the market around him faded away.

“Let me try again, give them here.”

Geralt turned, ears flicking toward the voice. Before he knew it his feet were pulling him along and toward whoever the owner of that voice was. He wove between legs and around market stalls as he followed the sound of young laughter and spirited teasing without even thinking to wonder why.

The source of the laughter came into view: five teenagers kneeling around a mat rolled out on the ground, jeering and smiling at each other as they played what looked like a game of knucklebones.

Or rather, four teenage boys and a young girl who seemed like she was very much trying to look like a boy, wearing a pair of pants with her hair tucked up into a tight cap.

“I said give it-”

The young girl trailed off, sitting up and looking around as if she’d heard something odd.

Geralt found himself trotting right up to her, feeling a small electric jolt when she turned to meet his gaze. She showed no surprise at a massive collared white wolf coming up to her, only reaching out to pet him, her expression a bit confused.

“Hello.” She said, tipping her head to the side and smiling as Geralt wagged his tail. “Where have you come from?”

“Ciri, that your dog?” One of her playmates asked.

“It’s a wolf you idiot, of course it’s hers, look at the expensive collar it’s got.” Said another, socking the first in the shoulder.

“How am I supposed to know what pets princesses have?” Complained the first boy, rubbing his shoulder.

Geralt’s eyes widened and his tail stilled.

That’s why he’d been pulled toward her, why she’d seemed to sense him at a distance. This was the Princess Cirilla.

His child surprise.

“I’m Ciri, what’s your name?” She said curiously, ignoring the boys as she scratched behind his ears and checked his collar for a name plate. “Do you need help?”

Geralt whined, shifting from paw to paw as his canine excitement got the better of his usual stoic self. He pressed his cold nose against her palm and she laughed, making a warm excited feeling rush through him. How many times had he idly imagined meeting his child surprise? It had never gone like this in his imaginings, usually involving far more grandmotherly interference for one thing.

“I like you.” Ciri declared to only him, kissing his forehead. “If you’re lost you can stay with me.”

Geralt whined again, half knocking her over as he pressed against her side, tail wagging wildly as she giggled.

“So he’s not-” one of the boys started, but the teenagers all stiffened at the clatter of hooves.

In a moment they’d scattered like pigeons, leaving Geralt and Ciri alone in the road, looking up at the four riders who pulled to a stop before them. Geralt stepped in front of Ciri protectively. He’d had his child surprise for less than two minutes now but felt surprised at the certainty he already felt that he would absolutely rip a man apart with his own teeth to protect her.

“You need to come with us.” One of the horsemen—all of them royal guards—said, eying Geralt warily but saying nothing as Ciri got to her feet, putting a hand on Geralt’s collar. “You’re needed back at the castle your highness.”

“Alright.” Ciri said primly, her demeanor entirely different than it had been a moment ago with her friends. More serious, now drained of happiness. “But you didn’t have to bring an entire regiment to fetch me.”

“Are you bringing that…dog with you?” the soldier asked, dismounting and handing his reigns to another soldier to accompany the princess on foot.

Ciri looked down at Geralt, he could see her biting her lip in indecision, doubtlessly hesitating to take a wolf with her who was clearly already owned by someone. Geralt panted, whining happily and pushing his nose against her palm in a clear show of encouragement. Take me with you, it’s alright. Keep me by your side.

“Yes.” Ciri decided, petting his head with a smile and looking back at the soldier. “He’s lost, I’m keeping him until his owner can be found.”

“As you wish your majesty.” The soldier said, already looking disinterested as they began making their way back to the castle in a small procession of hooves and sabers.

Geralt’s ears pricked as he heard a shrill three note whistle, the signal Jaskier always used if they were separated and calling his real name was inadvisable. Geralt looked back just in time to see his bard wander through the crowd, whistling and looking around worriedly.

Jaskier spotted him through the crowd and his eyes widened. Geralt wagged his tail in reassurance and Jaskier must have gotten the message, hanging back as Geralt turned a corner and out of sight with the others.

This was not the plan, but Geralt knew he could trust Jaskier to be clever enough to continue his half without help.

Or at least he had to hope so. Because without Jaskier and the medallion he guarded Geralt would be trapped as a wordless and weaponless wolf in the court of a queen who hated him as an enemy army bore down on the city.

Geralt would only be able to keep his wits about him and hope that this was a gamble that would pay off in their favor.

[Read chapter 2: Old Friend]

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt #geraskier #ciri #the witcher wolf #wit writes #this will be a quick fluffy oneshot #i say to myself #putting on my clown makeup

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bae-leth · 5 years

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Oh wow that’s a really detailed dream? I enjoyed reading about it! I’m thinking that Lorenz has more of a playful rivalry with Claude than an actual hatred, since FE Facebook talks of him, Dedue and Hubert all being loyal to their lords, but it’d be interesting if he turned on him later on in the story.

(I had only one 3H dream since that last anon, and in mine all that happened was that Claude and Dimitri had a shouting match. I don’t even remember what it was about. le sigh.)

About headcanons - I think I’ll expand a bit on the students we already know, more than the students we don’t. As much as I want to talk about Lysithea, Marianne etc, there’s literally nothing to glean tidbits from, so I’ll hold off from headcanons until we learn something, at least.

…I predict that most of these will end up being friendship-related anyway, haha. Headcanons under the read more:

Edelgard:

- A perfectionist, excelling in all her studies/training/etc from a young age.

- However this led to other people looking up to her, rather than seeing her as an equal - this led to some loneliness growing up.

- She wanted proper friends, not just people who saw her solely as a prospective ruler, but eh. What can you do when you have an certain image to cultivate?

- (spoilers: friendships attained at the monastery later on, and this secretly makes her very happy)

- Edel always looked like a hard person to approach, but really she was just a kind soul underneath

- Siblings: I keep thinking that she might have a half-sibling who tries to usurp her position as heir apparent midway through the game lmao. Other than that though, she seems like the only-child type to me.

- Kids want to BE her, because she’s super cool. This makes Edelgard super mushy inside (she’ll try to deny it), so she has a soft spot for the kids that run up to her in excitement whenever she travels around the Empire

Dimitri:

- I wonder what his tinge of darkness is? Intsys might go for the standard ‘he is forced to follow his bloodthirsty father in committing atrocities in the name of the Church’

- Or perhaps he witnesses something horrific as a child, and is powerless to stop it, leading to immense guilt up to adulthood?

- Or maybe it’s an inherent character trait. Maybe Dimitri was the villain all along 😔 and childhood circumstances exacerbated this villainy.

- Apart from theorising about his darkness, I headcanon that he was a bit of a wild child who mellowed out when he got older and attained more responsibilities. A bit like BotW Link, but more outwardly cheerful/expressive. Chivalrous from the very beginning. A good boi

- I still reeeeally want him and Ingrid to be siblings… If this is the case, then you can bet all your money that Ingrid had the best puppy face as a kid, and got away with everything. Dimitri was blamed for eeeeverything, and Ingrid still teases him about it now

- (they’re the ultimate power-siblings tho. Could kill you easily)

Claude:

- Has a few little sisters - THAT’S how he became so sneaky, lmao

- Actually listened in on the council meetings when he was younger, while pretending that he found them boring. He gained a good grasp of the politics of Fodlan from a young age as a result, and used this to his advantage to gain the upper hand in Alliance discussions (to the chagrin of his fellow nobles). He was always very sharp

- Always enjoyed winding up Dimitri as a kid, since the young prince got comically mad very easily. However, this became more difficult once Dimitri mellowed out and grew into a far milder young man. (Difficult, but not impossible…)

- Tried winding up Edelgard as a kid, too, before very quickly giving up. The heir to the Adrestian Empire knew how to use an axe VERY well from a VERY young age, and she wasn’t afraid to use it.

-Pulled a lot of pranks as a youngster, and still does now. Got away with it before because he was cute, gets away with it now because he’s charismatic (and HOt). Lorenz cries everytime, because he can’t get away with anything, apparently…

Hubert:

- Oh gosh, this man. He’s probably the first student at the monastery to go grey, he worries over Edelgard and the future of her position so much

- Has had the loyal retainer trope down to a T since, well, forever.

- He was always the best at giving Edelgard advice, making her tea, cheering her up etc, so much so that castle maids would ask him for pointers when they wanted to do the same.

Dorothea:

- We know that she’s looked up to Manuela for ages, but consider this: she has Manuela merch.

- And she isn’t afraid to show it.

- A painting of Manuela, beautiful and absolutely massive, hangs in her dorm room, and she refuses to take it down. (To be fair, it’s a beautiful painting)

- AHAHAH but honestly? We already know he accepting she is of everyone, no matter their class, so I’m certain she was the same with her fans at the opera house.

- She always treated them kindly, despite how tired she might have been after that particular performance.

- She managed to attain a stellar reputation as a result - people loooooooved her.

- So it’s a bit of a shock when she goes from the eccentric, lovable people who adore her and who she has connections with at the opera house to the snobby noble NPCs at the monastery, but she does what she’s always done, and kills them with kindness.

- And sass, accordingly.

- And her voice. (She probably has Chords of Steel ✊)

Ferdinand:

- His pride in his family's status has landed him a lot of dislike amongst the other noble families.

- Not that he ever cared, though; as long as his family were thriving, he could care less about what others say

- Diligent in his training since a young age. He has to be, in order to keep up with Edelgard

- ... even if she doesn't notice that he's trying to form a rivalry with her

- (oops)

Bernadetta:

- Spent all social occasions in her room, making no noise and pretending she didn’t exist.

- Depending on her parents’ attitudes, her shy nature either landed her sympathy or scorn. If they scorned her, this would explain why she prefers to practise her hobbies in the comfort of her own room.

- (It would also mean that I would leap into my switch to punch her parents herself)

- Felt much pressure to be conform to the typical self-assured noble role, which was a constant blow to her self esteem - especially because the ‘perfect’ noble, Edelgard, was right there, and easily comparable to her

- I’m pretty sure that she grows into her own throughout the course of the game, but since we’re talking about her past only, I can’t imagine that all the pressures of nobility would be good for her :(

Mercedes:

- MY GOOOOORL

- Why did she leave the Empire as a noble to settle as a commoner in the Kingdom?

- Methinks her family angered the nobles at court, and were forced to flee as a result. They didn’t agree with their methods/ideologies/etc, dared to speak out about it, and were threatened as a result

- It meant that Mercedes lost a lot of privilege and status as a result, but she didn’t mind. She could still heal others, and that was enough.

- She was initially lonely at the mage school before meeting Annette, although she was rather reluctant to admit it. However, the two of them soon became fast friends, and the rest is history

- (I headcanon that she only vaguely remembers Lorenz, which is a sucker punch to his ego lmao)

- Well-liked at court before her family’s fall to disgrace.

- Holds little ill-will towards those noble families that turned on her own - was only disturbed that they were that corrupt in the first place

Felix:

- He and Dimitri had a bit of a personality swap through the years.

- As children, Dimitri was the wild, reckless hooligan, while Felix was the one desperately trying to reign him in, for fear of losing the prince of Faerghus to some tragic accident (i.e. he tried taming a bear) under his watch

- As they grew older, Dimitri became more responsible. Felix, on the other hand, went 'fuck it’ and went absolutely ham. By this I mean that he starts his little challenging rituals

- which lands him in a lot of trouble, sometimes, because as it turns out, challenging a fifty year old senior knight at the tender age of fifteen doesn’t tend to turn out very well

- Dimitri ends up being the one to exasperatedly chase after him.

- Despite his 'lone wolf’ proclamations, the main reason Felix fights alone because he wants to look cool.

- The others (except Ashe) don’t buy this for a second. They haven’t done so in YEARS.

Dedue:

- Dimitri earned Dedue's respect ever since the prince defended one of his younger siblings from a drunkard in the marketplace

- As repayment, he offered to serve as a retainer for a period of time. Ended up being permanent, because his respect for Dimitri grew exponentially the more he spent time with him

- Green fingered. Probably worked wonders with the plants in his hometown.

- Dimitri once asked if he could tend to the palace gardens. Once Dedue realised that it was either him or Felix armed with a scythe, he quickly took up the offer.

- Since then, as well as being a retainer, Dedue often oversees the upkeep of the gardens. It's hard work, but he enjoys it. He makes sure to leave the plants in capable hands before the Blue Lions set off for the monastery

Ashe:

- Ok yes I know that we technically know nothing about Ashe either, but... my boy. I must headcanon him

- Ever since he joined the Blue Lions, Ashe had always been seen as the 'baby' of the group. The little brother. The one to look out for.

- It's just his face, y'know? Gotta protect that smile. Even Felix has a soft spot for him

- It exasperated Ashe to no end, because he KNEW he was capable enough to hold his own. He was just... short, okay??

- (His protests don't stop the rest of the Blue Lions affectionately doting on him. Currently, it's become a bit of a running gag between the members)

- Ashe, fists clenched: fight me!

- The rest of the Blue Lions, shaking their heads, drawing lances and mouthing softly: do not

- They all know he's capable, really, but it's always been funny to wind him up like this, so they all continue to do so.

- Everyone else knows that fighting Ashe is futile. You try and duel him, and suddenly there's a gang of 8 absolute b e a s t s tearing you to shreds. It's not fun

- Seeing as he doesn't have a crest, Ashe is probably a commoner.

- How did he end up with the Blue Lions? Either his own skill at the time, or him having a lot of potential, or both. I'm leaning towards the latter

Lorenz:

- Has horribly embarrassing anecdotes from his time at the mage school, which is why he is half thankful that Mercedes doesn't remember most of his blunders

- Annette remembers all of them, however.

- All of them.

- She uses these stories as blackmail material.

- Has always had a playful rivalry with Claude, but ultimately respects him. They play up their rivalry sometimes around the other nobles in the Alliance, just to create confusion

- Has an older sister who is infinitely more stylish and romantically successful than him. It pains him to even think about her success compared to his

- (doesn't stop him from knocking on her door for advice, though)

Hilda:

- Canonically spoilt by her father and older brother, yes. However, if you touch her family, and she will k i l l you

- s l o w l y

- so don't even think about it.

- Goes shopping and uses her poor brother as a shopping basket. The boy's groaning after five minutes. She smiles and adds more clothes onto his arm

- Her family can't resist her pleas... which caused quite a few petty squabbles. Imagine being Hilda's brother and getting a mug for Christmas, while you watch her get the cutest lil puppy, or something

- Despite this, she genuinely would do anything for her family. (even poison for them, if it came down to it...)

Raphael:

- His parents were killed in an accident, but for a long time Raphael felt guilty for not being able to do anything to save them, especially since he was so strong in the first place.

- What's the use of all his strength if he can't even protect his loved ones properly?

- Eventually, he pulls himself out of his slump. It takes a long time, but he realises that there's nothing he can do now except move forward and use his strength to protect those still living

- which is what he does! He gets Stronger, and uses his strength to protect his house.

- the others all admire how optimistic he is. His energy has always been infectious, and always draws out laughter from even the most despondent of people

- however, his constant training has always brought about shortages of training dummies for the Deer. Sometimes they go out to train, but there's just ... straw, in a heap on the floor.

- Raphael's optimism can't save him then 😤

#i'll check this tomorrow bc I'm really tired rn #but i rly hope the read more works on mobile lmao #will tag just in case #fire emblem three houses #fe16 #long post #headcanons #anon #ask

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striving-artist · 7 years

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I'm not sure if you take prompts but I had this idea where the avengers have a stimulation where they have to fight against each other(one of them will be the villain and the others fight against them) and Tony never participates but one day he gets super angry at them and just crushes all of them and achieves world domination? Like either with the power of the iron man suit and his weapons and cages or with his connections and money and intelligence. Just BAMF Tony and the team terrified.

Normally I don’t take prompts. This one worked for me. So. Enjoy?

Iron Man was a menace, and taking him down rose on Steve’s to do list with each wave of robots he fought. They were endless, clever, zippy things. They hovered mid-dair and used some kind of pack or swarm mentality. Two dozen launched themselves at the team as they breached the perimeter, and it nearly ended the assault on the spot.

The hole in the surveillance had lasted all of ten minutes. Long enough for Natasha to get them past the fence, not enough to get them to the next potential safe point.

Clint was already limping.

Thor eventually built up enough electricity in Mjolnir to fry the entire swarm, but he had to wait until they were all covered to do it right.

None of them got away unscathed. The injuries only goaded them onwards: They were going to finally take Iron Man down.

***

It was his own fault for getting drunk and nostalgic and building a holodeck.

It wasn’t cost effective, and probably never would be. There wasn’t a commercial market for it. Or, there was, but he couldn’t get the price point below a hundred thousand a simulation. It kept the Avengers fit though. They could run simulations beyond their previous capacity, and prepare for potential wars. They could practise. They could train.

Now that Bucky was Bucky and no longer an ice pop, they could work him into the fold.

Usually, they ran against simulated opponents. Friday ran the enemy, and each time Tony reprogrammed the system to make them harder to beat, harder to predict. But the team knew that not even brilliant AI could compete with human thought. It was best for them to spar against each other.

Well. “Spar.”

One or two of them would be the Villain of the month, and the rest would try to defeat them.

It was a point of pride, and betting. They wanted to be able to defeat their teammates, just for bragging rights, even if it did imply that the Avengers had lost to Evil. The team got into it. They planned and plotted. They gave themselves fake names for the event. The Spider was excellent in what turned into a three day bout of espionage overthrowing a government, but not quite enough. Captain Hydra’s utter lack of deception nearly won him the day with his straightforward attack on Buckingham Palace.

They got competitive, and the winner got to claim a boom, which was about as important as the right to strut for the next month.

So, the team loved it.

Tony didn’t.

He participated when they ran against Friday, but he wouldn’t even stay in the compound when they ran against each other.

It drove the Avengers crazy.

They wanted him on their team during simulations, sure, but what they really wanted was to have him run the side of Evil.

They wanted the challenge of trying to take down a genius opponent.

Tony didn’t participate, didn’t explain, and didn’t care when they all pouted at him.

Two years after Siberia, sixteen months after the team came home, ten months after Bucky defrosted, eight months after the holodeck was functional, the Avengers declared that they wouldn’t run another sim until Tony played for the other side, just once.

Billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist, idiot.

He agreed.

***

Steve flung himself behind the wall as another explosion tore through the hallway. The heat from it licked at his arms and hurt enough that his hand itched to shut off the uplink on his neck. But that would be admitting defeat. He tucked into a tighter ball behind his shield, nose pinching with the smell of burning hair.

The heat ebbed, Steve gestured to Bucky across the hall, and they surveyed the new damage.

A twenty foot break lay between them and the door they needed. The blast had taken out at least three floors above and below, and with the debris on the ground, the run up would be rough.

Bucky shrugged, latched his weapons in their holsters and sheaths, and sprinted. He landed bare inches past the ledge, turned and taunted.

Steve’s mind tripped on memories of the first mission he took, of Bucky and Red Skull, and of a desperate leap to reach safety. He brushed it aside, believing it was a coincidence.

Anything he would have shouted across was lost to the percussive explosions beneath his feet. Iron Man was blowing the whole area. There was no time to wait, no time for fear and memory. Steve flung himself forward to jump.

***

Tony didn’t play along and come up with a villain name.

When the rest of the Avengers got their data packages, it talked about the activities of Iron Man, eccentric weapons designer and billionaire, morally untethered and brilliant. There were recon photos of the base Tony designed, and enough information that they could potentially beat him. That was part of the rules of the simulations. It always had to be possible. So the team read every word of them. The packets talked about the crimes Iron Man committed and the number of people he’d killed, and, huddled in their command center, the team didn’t mind anymore that he hadn’t come up with another name. He was taking it seriously. He had written articles and op eds. He had photoshopped images. He had in memoriam pieces about his victims. If some of them itched with a faint sense of deja vu, it was probably because those kinds of articles ran together after a while.

Name change or not, the Avengers knew this was going to be the best simulation they had ever run.

With the new sensors on their suits, they would feel pain from the holographic explosions and bullets and scrapes, but take no actual injuries. Hand to hand would end in real bruises, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle.

The system was a marvel, using something similar to the non damaging protocols that Star Trek broke every other episode. Once they disconnected the uplinks, they’d retain no pain, not even echoes.

But, the system operated on certain rules. Not even Tony could get around the laws of physics and preset conditions once it started. No one could rewrite the code and add more enemies. No one could change how much gravity there was. All the pieces were on the board when the sim started, and it played out from there.

They had done this many times. They were always excited about getting to play, and yes, it was play for them to go fight knowing none of them would die. Clint was giddy. Steve was predatory and eager. Bucky was as excited as they’d ever seen him – just barely smiling.

So the Avengers suited up, eager to finally face off against Iron Man, and bring the bastard down.

***

There were more of the tiny flying robots once they reached the control room, and Thor was stuck on the other side of the compound with Natasha, trying to override the missile launch controls.

Of course Iron Man didn’t have one plan; he had four. Minimum.

They stopped the plane from taking off, only to find there was no one on it, just a note pinned to the front of a Bucky Bear, and the engine set to autopilot. One metal fist through the controls ended that prospect, but it meant they were in the wrong place, and had to scramble for a new plan.

Bucky and Steve had a technique, not a great one, but batting through the tiny buzzing bastards got them to the next door. One punch at a time, Bucky ripped a hole in it, and Steve stood guard, swatting the robots aside. The metal arm was working fine, but Bucky’s other arm hung limp at his side, still trembling from a booby trap they’d triggered trying to shut down the gas release.

If their intel was right, – and it was, for a few seconds they’d accessed the live video of Iron Man’s inner lair – their quarry was less than two hundred feet away.

Nat and Thor and Clint would take care of the missile launch. Steve and Bucky would bring down the Big Bad, and the Avengers would win the day.

They always did.

***

When Tony tried to back out of the simulation in the week leading up to it, the team protested so loudly they sounded like he was threatening to kill their puppy. He tried delaying, bringing up the idea of improving the system first, and they declared they could just run against him twice. Tony offered to swap out with Rhodey, since they knew Tony better, so War Machine would make the more challenging opponent.

They didn’t let him.

He did try to get out of it. He was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that the simulation would end in anything but disaster.

So, when the system was prepped, and they were in final countdown, Tony decided to let them win. It would be better like that. He’d put up a good fight, and when the team reached him at the center of the labyrinthine compound, he’d be sure they thought he’d given it his all. He’d make it harder than it had been before, and when there was a reasonable opening, he’d let them take him down.

Easy peasy.

He even made sure the robots and tech they faced in the lead up to that final fight would be good training for them. They relied on him for tech based evil too much. They needed the practice. If he ever did turn on them, really turn, they had to be able to handle technological attacks.

He had a plan.

And he would have stuck to it, but the night before the simulation was bad. Very bad.

Almost exactly two years since Siberia, and Tony woke up shivering from a nightmare. He called Steve and Bucky at half past three, ready to beg, to prostrate himself, to tell them honestly why it was a bad idea if he had to, whatever it took to get the day cancelled. He wasn’t going to fight them again. They didn’t need to know what he really was.

Bucky was grumbly. Steve was snippy.

They were happy and cozy together, curled up in Steve’s bed, and taunting him about being afraid to face the team, afraid to lose. They told him when they won, the Avengers had already decided what they were going to ask for: Tony would have to play the Evil again. Steve said it with a grin.

Tony was an idiot.

He hung up, let himself softly cry until the chill in his bones faded, and shifted his plan.

The Avengers had never lost against Evil, simulated or otherwise.

But.

The Avengers had never fought against Iron Man, not really.

***

Vision and Wanda and Thor missed the rendezvous entirely, trapped in cells.

Clint and Nat were too badly injured to be of help on the other side of the door.

Steve was limping.

Bucky’s right arm was moving slow.

They got the doors open.

Bucky slipped into the smoky darkness first. Steve followed just behind.

They’d faced worse odds. They would win, and Iron Man would lose. And Tony Stark would have to keep participating in these games.

***

Two years ago, Tony Stark fought his teammates. Fought against his friends.

Two years ago, he pulled every shot he took.

Even when he took off the Winter Soldier’s arm, he pulled his shot.

He could have killed him instead.

He chose not to.

***

Steve cleared the smoke and found Iron Man on a riser in the middle of the room. There was a control panel behind him. There was a screen showing DC. A screen showing missile silos. One monitor showed a list of four, only one of which blinked with an error message.

The Avengers had fought Evil, real and imagined dozens and hundreds of times, on scales small and large. They’d faced what they thought was the end when Loki brought the Chitauri. They��d thought they’d failed in Sokovia. They thought there was no saving anything after the fight that tore them apart and sent the majority into hiding in Wakanda.

Steve gaped at the scene, knowing already that it was hopeless. He was the strategist, he knew. Something sickening twisted in his stomach as he realized it.

Looking back on all the times they’d barely survived, barely prevailed, it hadn’t ever been Tony that needed the Avengers. It was the other way around.

Bucky fired, but it ricocheted off the armor into the air. Steve’s thrown shield was caught and dropped to the ground.

The clang of it hitting steel at Iron Man’s feet echoed with the thunk in his memory as Steve left it behind. It wasn’t the same– not at all, the room, the moment, the energy, the constant knowledge that it wasn’t real – everything was different, but Steve could feel a hint of Siberia as the three of them stood there, waiting for a fight to begin.

Iron Man tilted his head to the side, fired twice, and turned to the launch system while Steve and Bucky lay on the ground in agony.

Iron Man typed the passcode, the missiles launched, and the Avengers failed.

***

It was a terrible idea.

The holograms dissolved after the simulation was won, leaving Tony standing in the middle of a massive warehouse, dressed in a bodycon suit, staring at the space where the monitor had been when he chose to destroy the world. Nearby, the rest of the Avengers rose, no longer feeling pain from their various simulated wounds, and gaped at him.

Thor shouted a question about the victor. Natasha answered that Iron Man won the day. It started a round of cheering and congratulations.

Tony glanced to the others for a moment, lingering on Steve and Bucky where they were still leaning into each other. Thor started orating on the excellent battle and the challenge Tony had crafted. The others joined in on it, praising how good he was at being evil. Joking how lucky they were he was on their side. They laughed. Tony didn’t. Steve and Bucky looked at him too intensely to be anything but a question.

Tony smiled at the group, feigned exhaustion, declared he would never do another Evil Sim again, and walked away, keeping to himself how quickly he could have won the game. They didn’t need to know that he had let them get past the guards outside the building. They didn’t need to know that he’d chosen not to set off one set of bombs they’d missed. They didn’t need to know how good he was at playing for the other team.

Behind him, communicating in silent looks and concerned grips, were Steve and Bucky, who were finally starting to see the ending they should have met in Siberia, if Tony had actually wanted them dead. Bucky had his hand clenching the bicep of his metal arm, recalling the pain of it being torn away, trying to stay calm.

That night, Bucky had new nightmares. Steve did too. It was no longer dreams of them losing each other, of going too far and killing Tony in an icy bunker, or Hydra conquering the world. They dreamed of Tony, unleashed, uncaring, unstoppable, razing his enemies to the ground, salting the earth, and turning to the next. They shuddered as they woke, clingy and shaking, but together.

They didn’t know that four floors up, Tony had the same nightmare, and woke up alone.

#my writing #mcu #tony stark #this is bleak?#I don't know what else to call it #post cacw pain #that's what I'd call it #I just wrote this fast bc I need to make the words go #and they haven't lately #so sorry if it's bad

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