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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 2 years

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New fic for my friend @waitingondaisies brithday!!

Undercover Chaperone by happyaspie for waitingondaisies

Part 70 of the Tony Stark is a Good Mentor series

No Archive Warnings Apply || Rated G || Word Count 7728 || Peter Parker & Tony Stark || Field Trip, MoMA, Michelle Jones is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Flash Thompson is a Little Bit of a Jerk

Summary: When Peter's field trip to MoMA is in jepordy of being cancelled due to lack of supervision, he asks Tony for advice. He didn't expect him to actually sign up to chaperone. And when Peter brings up his concerns about Tony being recognized, Tony assures him he has everything under control.

[Excpert Under the Cut]

Peter walked into Tony’s lab on Friday after noon and tossed his backpack onto the floor with a deep sigh. It had been an extremely long day that had ended with a disappointing announcement. Thus ending his week on a completely sour note. Not even knowing he would be spending the entire afternoon in Tony’s lab was enough to completely salvage his evening. Although it did help. It was a distraction from the problem he had no tangible way of solving.

All of the general art students were supposed to be going on a field trip in a little less than a week and a half and everyone had been looking forward to it. Not because the location was all that interesting or the assignment that would follow would be any kind of interesting. What they’d been eagerly looking forward to was what would amount to a free day from school. No bells, no uncomfortable plastic chairs and no overly crowded hallways. However, the minimum number of parent volunteers had yet to have been met, putting the entire trip at risk.

At the end of the day, students had been encouraged to urge their parents to inquire about the possibility of chaperoning. And if enough adults stepped forward by the end of the week, they would be able to devote the entire day at the Museum of Modern Art, as planned. But Peter didn’t hold out much hope. The majority of students' parents worked. And it was reasonable to believe that if they hadn’t been willing to take the day off three months ago when the field trip had first been announced, they weren’t likely to change their minds with such short notice.

He’d been racking his brain ever since school let out for some sort of a miraculous solution but he’d come up with nothing. He couldn’t in good conscience ask May. The trip fell on one of her regular twelve hour rotations. There wasn’t enough notice for her to arrange for a paid day off or attempt to switch shifts. And unfortunately, there just wasn’t anyone else he could go to about filling a slot.

He was abruptly pulled from his thoughts when he heard Tony calling his name from across the room. His eyes flicked up as he waited for whatever else might have been said to process. When it didn’t, he lightly shook his head and hummed in question. He wondered how long he’d been standing there staring off into space.

Tony cocked his head to the side and leaned back in his chair. “I asked if you were doing okay over there,” he said with a quirk of his brow.

“Oh,” Peter belatedly replied. “Yeah. I’m fine, Mr. Stark. Just tired. It’s been a long week,” he said and nearly sighed in relief when he wasn’t interrogated any further. It wasn't because he was keen to keep the whole field trip ordeal a secret so much as he wasn’t certain what point there was in complaining about it. It wasn’t as though Tony could do anything to fix it. Nothing reasonable anyway. He cracked a smile as he imagined Tony purchasing the entirety of the Museum of Modern Art just so he could change the school group supervision requirements.

The smile faded as he sat down to start his homework. There wasn’t much. There never was. He almost always completed his work during class, so all he really had left to do was some routine studying. However, he found himself once again distracted when he received a text from Ned confirming what they both already knew. Neither of his parents would be available to chaperone either. He inadvertently groaned when he promptly received a similar message from MJ about her dad.

“You sure, you’re okay?” Tony asked moments later. But rather than staying where he was he began to span the distance between them. “You’re not getting sick are you?”

“What? No,” Peter said, as he dodged away from the hand that was aimed towards his forehead. “I told you, I’m just really tired and-” he added, his words trailing off towards the end.

“And what, Kiddo?” Tony asked.

For a split second, Peter considered completing his thought by requesting that Tony think about maybe volunteering. Then the rational part of his brain reminded him of exactly how absurd a request of that nature would actually be. It was just that sometimes he forgot how famous and recognizable Tony was to the public. It wouldn’t make any sense and would more than likely cause more issues than it solved. “Nothing,” he finally relented. “It’s nothing,”

Tony rolled his eyes and patted Peter gently on the shoulder. “Well, I’m not going to stand here and beg you to tell me what’s going on in your head,” he said softly. “But if you change your mind and decide that maybe it isn’t nothing, I’m here to help, alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, Mr. Stark,” Peter hurriedly replied. Then he immediately turned back to his Spanish notes, eager to put an end to the discussion. His time would be better spent resigning himself to the fact that the field trip wasn’t going to happen and that it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere new or interesting. It was MoMA, and he’d been there before. At least three times over the years. Nearly everyone had. There was something there for nearly every age group making it the go to destination for the majority of the local schools.

Sighing, he picked up his flash cards and started to flip through them. He’d just gotten himself into a good rhythm when his phone vibrated against the desk. He slapped his hand on top of it to put a stop to the incessant buzzing and looked at the screen. It was a message from May. Apparently the school had sent out an email about the shortage of chaperones, and she’d messaged him to apologize. He huffed a little as set to work texting her back, telling her that it wasn’t that big of a deal. They both knew it was a lie and hated how quick she was to call him out on it.

‘Just because you’ve been there before, doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be disappointed,’ she said. And Peter, unsure of how to respond, sent her a single thumbs up emoji in return.

After that, he went back to studying for a while. He looped through his vocabulary words a few times before clarifying a few English notes. He just barely made it through that before his brain decided that it was done with school work for the day. Hence he shoved everything back into his bag and joined Tony near one of the larger workbenches.

“Hey, kid. Got your homework all done?” Tony asked without ever looking up.

Peter hummed in the positive and leaned in to see what Tony was working on as he spoke. “There wasn’t that much to do today. Just needed to go over a few notes.”

“That’s good. Anything happen at school day?” Tony asked. Peter rolled his eyes and was just about to reiterate that nothing was wrong when Tony looked up to clarify. “I forgot to ask you how your day was when you walked in.”

“It was fine. Nothing exciting happened or anything. It was just-” Peter began, then paused to sigh. “-a regular day I guess.”

Tony nodded his head and dragged a few large chunks of cut steel alloy out from behind the workbench. “Think you can help me with this?” he asked, waiting for Peter to nod before adjusting the pieces in Peter’s hands. “Just hold it really still for me.”

Peter nodded again, widening his stance to comfortably accommodate the awkward shape of the items he was holding together. Subsequently, Tony began to drill holes at even increments. At some point he knelt down to rearrange the way the plates were lined up and asked, “How was your Guy in the Chair today? Good?”

“He was fine,” Peter replied. When Tony looked up at him in anticipation for more, he smiled a little. “We presented our collaborative project on the pH levels in the corrosion of iron and how to prevent it.”

“Sounds great, Kid,” Tony strained, while hauling himself back up to standing and stretching his arms over his head. “Hold those up just a little higher for me, will you? My back isn’t what it used to be.”

Peter laughed as he obliged, lifting the distinct parts to a height where Tony didn’t have to hunch over or get onto the floor to perform his tasks. Things grew quiet after that, giving time for Peter’s mind to drift back to the field trip predicament. He fully understood that the outing wasn’t likely to happen, but at the same time he wasn’t quite ready to give up hope. After some time he began to wonder if maybe it wouldn't be such a terrible idea to casually bring it up. Tony was a genius and there was a good chance that he’d be able to come up with a perfectly logical solution. He figured there was no harm in asking, but waited until Tony had relieved him of the heavy metal before attempting to broach the subject.

“Hey, Mr. Stark? Can I ask you a quick question?” he sincerely asked, as leaned onto the desk behind him.

[Continue Reading on AO3]

#happyaspie writing #irondad and spiderson #chaperone tony stark #field trips #peter parker #tony stark #spider-man #iron man #mcu #marvel #marvel fanfiction #flash thompson #michelle jones #ned leeds #roger harrington #roger harrington deserves better

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phantomphangphucker · 2 years

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Phic Phight - Does Anybody Have A Scrub Daddy™️

For: @catalystofthesoul @lunastarthecat @currentlylurking @buff-borf-bork @zombiemerlin @lexosaurus @higgidigs @what-even-is-sleep @language-of-ghosts @ crazydragonlady

The G.I.W. litterally invited all this chaos. So there is absolutely no sympathy to be spared. Plus, they’re just stupid face bigoted meanies with about as much colour to them as unbaked potatoes

Mr. Lancer looks over the class before nodding to himself, “so as you all know there is a G.I.W. compound just a little way outside of Amity Park”, nodding slightly at the class paying more close attention, “tomorrow, yes I know this is quite last minute, the G.I.W. have extended an invitation for us to tour that very compound”.

Todd jerking up a had, speaking before Lancer even calls on him, “can we bring flamethrowers”.

“Absolutely not”; Lancer throws a bit of a glare at the teen, who rolls his eyes.

“What about a bazooka!?!”.

“A collection of knives?”.

“What about pro-ghost propaganda t-shirts?”.

“Can I bring a blob ghost?”.

“Oh mi god yes! Blob ghost army to their doorstep, girl!”.

Lancer sighs and gestures for the class to be quiet. Daniel having not said anything and just chuckling in the back of the class is honestly more worrying that everyone else. “Quiet down. There will be no weapons, beyond standard ecto-weapons for personal protection”, glaring slightly, “and that does not include bazookas or flamethrowers or knives or bombs. Only pen-blasters, lipstick-blasters, and personal mini shields”, eyeing Daniel, “and Daniel, please try not to destroy anything”.

Daniel smirks, “you know… technically I am certified to wield a bazooka”. Lancer simply sighs.

Lancer truly has no idea why his principal thought this was actually a good idea.

---

Danny laughs to himself as he walks into the classroom the next day. He knows shit is going to be fucking CRAZY crazy. Especially since Wes looked like he had at least eight major recording devices on him, not including his phone. He’d bet money on the teens necklace being a disguised mini camera too. But hey! At least that’ll keep the G.I.W. from being too fucked up due to fear of being recorded!

And Lancer eyeing Wes with a tired look tells Danny that the teacher felt the exact same way as him. Lancer clapping his hands together, “alright everyone! To the bus please! Single file!”. Everyone runs out, decidedly not in single file or in any kind of orderly way. Danny’s not sure why the man still tries to control the chaos, all things considered.

…

By the time they actually get to the compound, everyone on board is getting a little rowdy. At least eleven games of seat surfing have happened, one guy had begun doing some seriously outdated planking, it smelled like someone had lit a joint that Lancer had yet to successfully find, and there was a very heated debate about proper Tamagotchi care while calling Lancer old for knowing what they’re talking about much to the teacher's confusion.

And once the G.I.W. compound was actively in sight, damn near everyone went out of their way to stare meanly or hungrily at random G.I.W. men to just be randomly creepy or scary. Why? Because fuck the G.I.W. that’s why; the whole fucking town actually really hated them pretty much.

Lancer sighing as the bus stops, “please, everyone, behave yourselves”. Emilie lifts up a paint can and laughs meanly, chucking it out the window and immediately causing a code brown. Off to a fucking GREAT start.

Danny’s the last to get off, hands in his pockets, “Lance?”.

“Yes Daniel?”.

“You know this is going to be a right shit show, yeah?”. Lancer sighs, nodding slowly. So Danny pats him on the arm, “you have my pity”, then moving to join his classmates.

The most surprising thing about the first five minutes is that absolutely no one has punched one of the agents yet. What’s also not legitimately surprising is the way Danny can feel the agents all eyeing him. Why? Because the G.I.W. plus last-minute plus him really only equals them having figured his shit.

Should he maybe have skipped out of this? Probably. But he wasn’t a chuckle fuck like that and it’s not like they could end his ass? Sure torture was totally on the table, but who doesn’t get a little dose of torture in their life every now and again these days? So long as whatever happens in the near future doesn’t involve Dash’s underwear, Danny couldn’t be paid to give a flying rats ass about what happens in this shitty little middle of butt fuck nowhere compound.

Lancer eventually noticing the staring, approaching Danny some, “Daniel… is there something going on between the Fenton’s and the G.I.W. again?”. It wouldn’t be the first time after all.

Danny snickers, “eh they’re probably just playing a lets abduct Danny game”.

Lancer looks concerned.

Annnnnnnnnnd not even five minutes later Danny winds up getting separated from the group via weird moving floor tiles and being knocked out. Apparently a strange ‘pop the balloons full of powder’ game to teach ghost hunting somehow was really just a way to release an ectoplasm-specific knock-out drug. But of course that kinda went wrong, knocking fuck all everyone out ‘cause fuckin’ everyone and their mother was ecto-contaminated these days. But anyways, Danny winds up getting dragged into some over sterile room… all the while all the live footage Wes had been taken suddenly goes live, due to his unconscious finger no longer holding down a certain little trigger. Queue the G.I.W.s image and name getting tarnished even more for knocking out a goddamn group of teenagers. But also queue a now slightly panicking and very pissed off Jazz Fenton, who was currently hauling ass to rain down wrath on some shitty men in shitty suits. Though she forgoes weapons purely because she knows, and unlike everyone else actually cares, about the fact that the G.I.W. have sensors for literally anything ectoplasmic; including stuff powered by ectoplasm. So she was going to take a page out of her brother's book, and her mother's training, and punch a couple of people in the face.

---

Danny wakes up blearily. Blinking and chuckling faintly, speaking up from the table he’s definitely strapped down on to, “well good morning gentlemen, a lovely fucking day we’re having right?”.

One of the men glares at him, tightening a restraint just to be a dick, talk about a totally dick move right? “Silence, ghost”.

Danny, in fact, does not go into silence, “do I look like I’ve got a glow or whacky ass glow-stick eyes? You been smoking Johnny’s good shit”, Danny waving a finger mockingly from inside the restraint, “you know he gets really pissed about people stealing his shit, right?”.

Annnnnnnnnd he gets a cattle prod to the side. Nice. What is it with people and jabbing him with cattle prods specifically. Valerie did that, his mom that one notable time, Vlad keeps doing it for funsies Danny thinks, and Walker actually has a specialised cattle prod with Phantom’s name branded on it.

Why couldn’t someone spice it up with bear mace or something?

Anyway, some fuck stick rolls out a cart of scalpels, Exacto knives, and other medical thingamajigs and doohickies; and Danny sighs. This shit? Really? Chuckling anyway at the men, “oOoOoOo, now that the sharp silver friends are here can I officially dub this area the stabbin’ cabin?”, beginning a little cheer of: “stabbin’! Cabin! stabbin’! Cabin! stabbin’! Cabin! stabbin’! Cabin! stabbin’! Cabin!“; until one of them gets fed up enough with his shenanigans that they just stab him one in the leg with a knife or some shit. Danny sticking out his tongue at them, “awww are you trying to butter me up with a nice little butter knife”, that earns him another stab, “hey can we at least play rock, paper, Caesar over what gets actually used first?”.

One of the men scowls, “no. This isn’t up to you”.

“Well don’t worry about any medical sensor shit, I promise I’m in stab-le condition”.

They just ignore him and move on to cutting off his shirt. Him muttering, “well this sure as shit ain’t my preferred type of exposure”, blinking, “oh wait! Make sure to take pictures please!”, smirking, “I came pretty and proper for my all my close-ups!”, and winking. They slap a piece of white duct tape on his mouth, him promptly eating it, “now that’s what I call pointless”.

One with a particularly excessively shaved head -like really, the dude had a really fucking ugly head shape and should thus never ever shave almost down to smooth scalp ever again- just gets this party popping n’ hopping by shanking him one right in the sternum. Which is not how you do a fucking dissection, man. Have class why dontcha? “Bro, you're supposed to start happy stabby time higher up, did they not train you for shit? Like the right proper dick weasel you are?”.

Some other guy decidedly starts the actual dissection process. Baldy was a basic bitch that probably didn’t know his scold’s bridles from his bone saws. Danny makes a point to whistle the most annoying song he can think of followed up by whistling a good old fashion Rick Roll. They cut a little more meanly for that, “really cut in deep there, fuck sticks. You know… y'all should start stabbing clocks too, it’s a great way to kill time”.

And then the dick on the right decides to jab him right in the fucking heart with a fucking tazer like an ASSHOLE. Danny forcing down a wince with comedy, “awww that’s touching. Really heartwarming. You’re the ecg to my heart, babe”, blowing a cheeky kiss, “we’re really getting to the heart of the matter, eh?”.

The G.I.W. douche canoe snapping, ”you are, by far, the worst ghost we have ever captured”.

“Oh please do sing my glorious praises more!”, Danny breaking out into song, “🎵You wooo me so! Just look at my heart palpitations go!🎵”. He even manages to keep up the mild tune when one of the fucking asses rips out a solid wad of Danny’s very own intestines. Danny spitting a bit and eyeing the mound on the floor, “wow that is very officially eight metric fuck tons of my exposed steaming innards! Nice!”, looking back to the men, “so how we gonna cook it?”, groaning, “oh wait don’t tell me, you guys are the ‘we like it raw’ kinda cannibals?”.

They ignore him and keep going, peeling away bits of skin and muscle, moving around organs.

…

“You know, US stats say a guy gets stabbed every fifty-four minutes; I think I’m really skewing those rates”, barking out a laugh, “soon it’s gonna be a guy gets stabbed fifty-four times every minute!”.

…

“What? You gonna use knitting needles next? Really start following a pattern?”.

…

“Guys, I promise I’m not a Pikachu, you can’t play poke a man with me”.

…

“You know, I bet y’all’s therapists have all said time heals all wounds, and your responses were to stab them and see how long it would take“.

…

One of the guys stabs something that is definitely not part of Danny’s insides, it sounding vaguely like an over pressurised gas canister being pierced, followed by a loud bang and peanut butter getting absolutely splattered fucking everywhere. The G.I.W. guys screaming about cleanliness breaches, while Danny glances at his entirely popped open and exposed stomach, “huh. I forgot I stored a jar of peanut butter in there. Man that must be so expired”, at the men beginning to scream and the globs of peanut butter beginning to attack the men, “and definitely ecto-contaminated”.

Needless to say, Danny was having a very exposing fun time.

---

Meanwhile, while Danny’s busy torturing his tortures, Jazz gets to the compound at the same time as Lancer, one of the less ecto-contaminated people, wakes up. Lancer quirking an eyebrow at her, “Jasmine? Why are you here?”. Jazz sighing, “I saw Danny getting abducted over Wes’s stream”.

“He was streaming this?”, Lancer sighs to himself, slouching for a bit before walking after Jazz as she begins moving around the compound, kicking open random doors. Lancer muttering, “never mind. I really need to ban Wesley from carrying any kind of camera”.

What neither of them were aware of, was the fact that there was actually a second stream coming straight from a mini cam Wes slipped into Danny’s back pocket. Danny totally noticed, Danny totally didn’t care, Danny was totally letting Wes take the blame if the G.I.W. tried suing over the footage.

Jazz humming, “that would be an idea but currently I’m glad you haven’t”, kicking in another door and sending the G.I.W. agent on the other side flying into a wall. Her smirking and walking over, “okay you, where is my brother”; even Lancer’s a bit thrown by the threat to her voice.

“As if I would tell some ghost lover”. Jazz punches him in the kidney and then slams the heel of her shoe into his forehead. Turning on the next G.I.W. agent in the room, “where is my brother”.

“You’re probably a ghost too”.

Jazz breaks his fucking jaw, before moving on to the next man.

Lancer stares a bit, officially believing those odd comments he’s heard about Danny beating the Hell out of the school bullies. Size really meant nothing when you knew what you were doing. Jazz steps on the next guys fingers and rams her knee clean into his eye socket; before body slamming him through a wall and moving on to the next man in the next room.

At this point, Lancer’s just following in an attempt to ‘supervise’ the situation and the one teenager just going on a rampage; this was so far above his pay grade.

And at that very moment the wall next to Jazz, who’s currently holding a man up by the collar, gets blown in; bits of rubble and… peanut butter? going flying by their heads.

Lancer whipping some off while men shout about cleanliness breaches. Jazz blinking before decking the man she was holding up in the face, knocking him out easily. Groaning sounding from inside the room the peanut butter came from, followed by thumping, some screaming, someone that sounds suspiciously like Daniel Fenton, “awwww, you look disappointed. What’s the stigmata?”.

Jazz damn near running into the room, shouting, “Danny!”.

Lancer just stands near a bit of destroyed wall, Daniel chuckling while half attached to some kind of experimentation table and having seeming been completely gutted. Lancer can’t help but turn to the side and vomit. While Danny speaks up, “oh uh, hey, some totally unneeded but needed help would totally be appreciated here. This is limiting my range of motion so much that I’m just really not interested in getting e-motional attachment”.

“Danny, oh my god”, Jazz ripping the straps off him.

“Oh hey now, surely these guys just grabbed me up specifically for all the cutting remarks, right?”.

Jazz smacks him one over the head, his skin flaps flapping around and bits of insides dripping out, “Danny this should not be funny to you!”.

“And how many fucks do I give?”.

“I don’t know, Danny”.

“Well I don’t know either, so you want the measurements in imperial or metric? Either way it’s still zero”, and flips her off. She cuffs him over the head for that.

A G.I.W. agent pops out around a corner, grabbing Danny by the wirst, “what are you doing out of containment!”.

“Pfffft. Fuck you, you peon”, and Danny’s arm just… pops off. Sending the G.I.W. agents stumbling over, the bone of the arm smashing him in the face so hard it breaks his nose. Danny blinks, “what the actual fuck actually”, looking to Jazz in shock, “I just delimbed my arm! I AM THE DANNY STARFISH!”. Lancer sighs, “I’m going to check on the other teens. Just, Daniel? Please put yourself back together again?”; he is decidedly not asking. He knows as well as Shakespeare knows drama, that questioning Daniel’s everything was simply not worth it and didn’t actually do anyone any good.

Danny chuckles, watching his poor poor son of a bitch teacher walk off, avoiding bits and bobs of rubble as he goes, Danny shouting after him, “I do not apologise for solidly wrecking shop!”. His teacher just waving over his shoulder at him. Danny turning his silly smile on his sister, “so, did you know that spinal fluid tastes like a mixture of bananas and a nine-volt battery?”, waving her off, “sure with a slight tingle of the ecto, but that one’s all on me”.

“I was worried about, you problem child”.

Danny cackles at that very loudly while Jazz jumps a little, spinning on her heel to punch some APPARENTLY FUCKING SENTIENT PEANUT-BUTTER. The peanut butter makes grabbled sounds of annoyance.

And off in the distance, another explosion rings out. Ahhh it sounds like all the teens have awoken, and now doomsday has finally come.

---

By the time Lancer got back to his students, utter pandemonium had broken out. There were fistfights left and right. One guy was being choked. Someone had seemingly forged a hammer utilising bits of metal torn out from a wall and their lipstick-blaster, they were screaming about ‘indoctrinating others into a good ol’ round of whack-a-mole!’ while chasing a G.I.W. agent. Emilie had an entire katana and was just going to town on anything that looked expensive. Eight people where jumping weirdly and chanting in gibberish around a tied-up G.I.W. agent. And then there was Wes… off in the corner recording with a smirk, he even had a tripod set up; it was probably recording live and streaming with Lancer’s luck.

Oh god the angry parents were probably coming.

One of the agents can be heard shouting, “this was not how this was supposed to go! What is wrong with this town!”. Receiving cackles in return. You know, Lancer had once wondered why no one thought Amity Park was actually a real place, but of course they didn’t; the sentient peanut butter -there’s more of it?????- really selling the sheer insanity here.

Apparently, the peanut butter has congealed into a hulking goopy mass, with G.I.W. agents and other assorted things stuck in it and struggling to get free. Lancer has never heard peanut butter roar before, and he wishes it had stayed that way. And just then the angry parents arrive on schedule, being stereotypical as everything by currently wielding shed tools and torches, as they break through a few sidewalls. Lancer’s not surprised to see James’s rumoured to be mob-involved parents at the forefront with hunting knives.

Danny walking up behind the teacher, looking wrapped up like a mummy and still sans an entire arm, “well this is some syphilitic insanity shit right here”. Lancer just sighs, sitting down and putting his head in his hands. Though he does side-eye Jazz, when she walks in dragging an unconscious man, “we found who was responsible for this whole plan”.

Lancer sighs, “good. That’s good”; sounding tired.

Danny giving a cheery, “yup! Now we know who gets to foot the bill! And who’s got enough of an ego to make my organs be or-gones”, gesturing to his rather messy self since the bandages and everything were just done over top of the blood splatter gore, “got a sponge? ‘Cause I could so use a good sponge bath scrub down. Seeing as I am the quirkiest of quirked up white boys goaded with the sauce and I deserve to get this everything hygienically busted down sexual style”.

“Will… you be alright”.

“Indubitably”. Danny then shrieks like a banshee, roundhouse kicks an agent in the face, and goes off whacking them and different things with his unattached arm.

One of the parents laughing at the entire situation, many of the teens having just started infighting for the fuck of it, “well at least the kids are having fun”.

Someone shouting, “hello hello! Oh my my my what have we here!”, is followed by a loud explosion that results in the peanut butter monster just kinda exploding everywhere. Danny snickering from being thrown into the ceiling, “ah I just love sticky situations. A lovely turn of events”.

Everyone can see the culprit of the explosion after a while, Emilie’s father strongman style holding up a questionable gas canister with a knife in it, “THE DRAGONS HEART HAS BEEN SLAIN!”. Far too much laughter followed that statement.

---

The clean up the next day was truly something to behold, and the peanut butter factories were confused for a few weeks by the aggressive amount of their product that was being sold and used in memes. And the Amity news absolutely paid to use Wes’s footage, including the audio taken from Danny’s back pocket which had already gone viral. The town's general consensus was that the Fenton boy apparently had one really disturbed sense of humour.

But the other notable thing that happened shortly after? Why the local Amity Ghost Relief Fund receives an honestly staggering amount of donations, why? Well someone *cough cough* Danny and Tucker *cough cough* had created a subscription-based donation service to supply the great world with weekly footage of Amity Park’s general insanity. Apparently selling the visual embodiment of a crackfic was lucrative business. No one was going to question how the actual fuck the teens got around the G.I.W.s tendency to screen and block footage from Amity getting out into world too heavily though. Maybe Phantom had helped them out to make up for it being him and his kind’s fault that the town had been months away from complete bankruptcy; eh, who were they to question their town hero? And hey, at least the town wasn’t all strapped for cash now? Right? Right.

End.

Prompts: Peanut butter. and Danny Fenton has been kidnapped! Unfortunately for his kidnappers, he finds this hilarious. and The Fenton siblings aren't just formitable with different types of ghost hunting weapons; their black belt of a mother taught them better than that! and Danny goes missing, and it's up to Jazz to find him. and Oh no! Danny has gotten himself captured by either his parents or the Guys in White. Hope nobody brought a scalpel with them hahaha…. unless? and Amity Park holds a fundraiser to try to profit off the ghosts in town, but with no one biting Danny and co. have to figure out how to con investors/tourists into supporting the town. and danny learns he can starfish his limbs. and The school field trip to the Guys in White facility goes wrong. and Mr. Lancer doesn’t get paid enough for this. and Jazz, but make her terrifying. and Amity Park takes a lot of damage on a regular basis. The city government has disaster funds and the mayor donates some dough out of his pocket, but six months after Danny Phantom and ghost fights appear, the money is about to run dry.

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ruvonix · 2 years

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{Field Trip!}

Jason: *While driving sees a yellow license plate from another state* oh look, car punch!~

Dick: *on the other seat* what?-

Jason: *Punches Dick*

Dick: OW WTF?

Jason: Sorry big bro- rules...are Rules.

Dick: YOU NEVER EVEN FOLLOW RULES IN THE FIRST PLACE THOUGH-

Jason: Times change big bro...they change.

Dick: Bullshit.

Jason: Language.

(Jason would have this on his car and I ain’t fighting anybody on this, I’m right.)

#jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #incorrect batfamily #incorrect batfam #field trips

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ezrrraaa · 2 years

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I went on a field trip (;ಥ;ω;ಥ;)

#green #trees #woods #river #water #i should drop out of school and be a photographer #fieldtrip #field trips #rock #elfcore #adventurecore

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ggomomomo · 2 years

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Switcheroo

@felixmonth

Felix Week Day 3 (Cookie Version) | Field Trip

AO3 | Masterlist

The first time they did a switch, it was to mess with their parents.

The second time they did it, they had been dying of boredom.

After the third time, switching places became a practiced show with multiple encores. Whenever either Adrien or Félix wanted a getaway from their usual lives, they'd call the other and initiate a switch. Félix came to Paris. Adrien took a train to London. They'd both live double lives, having mastered the art of being another person.

And no one noticed.

Not their peers, nor their friends. Their parents were often too busy to even notice. That was why they continued the routine seamlessly. Sometimes, Adrien would say he was too suffocated in his sheltered life and then adopt Félix's instead. Sometimes it was Félix who needed a break from so many lessons and expectations.

Until one day, when Félix was pretending to be Adrien, he observed some oddities from one dark-haired girl. There were times when she'd run into class, offer a box of passionfruit macarons to him, but would then look at him and switch it out with a bag of croissants instead. She'd help him escape whenever people hounded him, like Chloe or Lila. She'd know where to find him during breaks: holed up and hiding in the library.

When Félix had asked Adrien about this, the latter said that Marinette never acted that way. She'd be all stutters and falls around him, and would keep her distance. She never even approached him about anything except if she absolutely needed to.

So one thing was clear: Marinette knew.

Félix confronted her about it during another switch. She admitted to it, briefly retelling a moment when Adrien had mentioned a cousin that looked like him. She vowed, however, to never mention the truth to anyone. Félix was satisfied with that and let himself drop the act a little when he was around her. They'd hang out in the library or a secluded spot in the school, sharing anything and everything they found interesting. She would open up about her crush on Adrien, and he'd give her some tips here and there.

---

He was awfully late.

Félix rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. The teacher gestured for him to get on the bus. "You're late, Adrien."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Bustier." He gave his charming 'Adrien' smile. "My driver had an emergency this morning."

He wiped the sweat off his brow as he went up the bus and located his seat. It was a field trip day around Paris for Adrien's class, and he had been called at the last minute to do a switch. Marinette immediately recognized him when he sat himself next to her.

"Fé?" She whispered softly enough to not let anyone here. "What are you doing here? I thought Adrien . . ."

He mentally grimaced, knowing that she had been excited since she and Adrien got partnered up. "He can't. He called me last night—he had a terrible argument with his father so he went ahead and escaped the house," he explained.

"That's really . . ." Marinette looked down. Félix spotted the box of macarons at her side. "But he's been looking forward to this all week."

"Apparently his father assigned him extra photoshoots in return for letting him attend the field trip."

"That's terrible!" She knitted her eyebrows. "He shouldn't get punished for that."

Félix sighed. His uncle was always a pain to deal with. And they couldn't switch during photoshoots—Adrien was too afraid they'd get caught if Félix didn't model correctly.

"What about you?" asked Marinette.

"Me?"

"Aren't you bothered? Like, being called to Paris suddenly?"

He wasn't. It was all worth it for Adrien. He didn't have a schedule for the day anyway and his friends were well aware about the switches. "Tired from running? I am. But bothered? Not so much," he said. "I wasn't pulled out of anything important, so it's alright. He owes me big for this anyway. He promised me."

Marinette's lips stretched into a warm smile. The same warmth spread in his chest. "You're really kind, Félix. I'm glad Adrien has you."

As the bus went through a slight traffic, Marinette dug around in her bag. "By the way, are you hungry?" She fished out a paper bag. "I didn't get to eat breakfast this morning so I picked up bagel sandwiches."

That reminded Félix of his growling stomach. "Yes, I'd like one if that's okay."

"Here! Good thing I packed an extra." She handed her one sandwich and his mouth began to water.

They ate together throughout the bus ride, stopping in between bites to talk. Marinette mentioned that she helped make the itinerary for the trip, while Félix recounted that he nearly missed the train that morning. He fell into a comfortable state, even if it wasn't his own life he was living at the moment. It was always like that with her.

"Oh no," Marinette groaned.

"What?"

She pointed to a girl peeking from behind her seat, a few rows ahead of them. "Alya's watching us."

His eyebrows rose. He wasn't unfamiliar with the teasing of Marinette's friends, but it felt strange since they didn't know that he wasn't Adrien. "Ignore her," he suggested.

"She's probably going to take pictures!" Marinette blew away stray hair from her face. "And jab me with her elbow all day."

---

The first part of the trip was a ride down river Seine on Bateaux-Mouches. The whole class had a boat for themselves—Félix made himself comfortable beside Marinette. He took in the scenery with concealed disinterest as the others 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed at every sight.

"What I don't understand is why you're having a field trip in Paris," he said to Marinette. "You can always go anywhere in the city whenever you want."

She laughed. "Why? Have you been around Paris?"

His cheeks grew hot. "When I was a kid."

"So it's a treat for you then." She nudged him.

Félix huffed. "Still. The class could've gone to Lyon or even Nice."

"I think a farther trip was planned at first but it didn't work out." Marinette got her phone out to take a few pictures. "That's why we're here."

He looked around the place. Paris was nothing short of impressive of course, but he'd rather explore the city freely on his own time.

"It's because the class is going together," Marinette said.

"What?"

"That's the appeal of having a field trip around the city." She shrugged. "It's more fun with other people."

All of a sudden, two of her friends came dashing towards them. The one with glasses positioned her camera to take a picture. "Smile!" Alya directed as she snapped a photo.

Félix had barely any time to react. He wished that 'Adrien' didn't look too grumpy in the picture.

"You're doing it again." Alya frowned, looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Doing what again?" Marinette plastered a force smile.

"You're not a mess around Adrien." Nino chuckled. "It's like a werewolf transformation when that happens."

"Hey!" The pigtailed girl pouted.

"It's true! You're like a switch," Alya mused.

"I thought you were going to leave us alone on the field trip." Marinette put her hand on Félix's shoulder. He froze up for a second but then leaned into her touch.

Alya gazed at them in a calculating manner. "Fine, fine. Enjoy, lovebirds."

The pair retreated back into their seat, undoubtedly still talking about Marinette's supposed change. When Félix turned to his seatmate, he saw her cheeks tinted with red. "Sorry." Marinette retracted her hand. "I should've asked first."

"It's alright," he assured softly.

He never actually minded physical contact if it was her.

---

After their quick stop at Montparnasse Tower and picking up food at a nearby shop, the class headed for the Palace of Versailles. They were allowed to roam around following the quick tour, as long as they stuck with their pairs. Félix and Marinette found a spot near the gardens to sit down and snack on their croissants.

"I have a question," Félix piped up.

"Shoot."

"I haven't asked you before but . . . how do you know when it's me?" Even from his perspective, he and Adrien looked nearly identical. Nobody else seemed notice a blatant difference but somehow Marinette always knew.

"I don't get why either." She took a sip of her juice. "Maybe it's because I've spent so much time looking at Adrien so I just know if it's not him."

"Just because your Adrien compass isn't acting up, you can see through our switch?" He asked, eyebrow arched.

"Not necessarily!" Marinette blushed. "I mean—I didn't know at first too. Then I noticed small details. Stuff Adrien doesn't usually do. You're a good actor—err—you impersonate him well, but there are just things you can't exude if you're not him."

Félix nodded, only partially understanding it. He supposed that he couldn't have the 'sunshine aura' his cousin radiated.

"How do you know it's not me who gave you the umbrella?"

Marinette promptly choked on her croissant, eyes turning large.

He smirked. "I'm kidding. I'm kidding."

She gave him a playful slap. "Do not joke about that."

"Would it be so bad if it was actually me?"

Marinette stilled, as if deeply pondering about the thought. Félix didn't know why, but his heart nervously picked up its pace in anticipation. She licked her lips. "Well, no, not really." She shrugged one shoulder. "But I know it's not you."

"So if it wasn't Adrien . . ."

"I like Adrien for all that he is," she said. "Not only because of the umbrella."

Félix's chest squeezed at those words.

Marinette continued as she rummaged through her bag. "I actually prepared a lot of stuff today," she confessed.

He took a peek for himself. She did bring a lot. A bottle of water, a tin of candy, an extra jacket, a compact umbrella, medicine, a flashlight, and even her pencil collection. "You brought a first aid kit?"

"You never know when you need it!"

He noticed a pink envelope in one of the pockets. "And a confession letter?"

She rubbed her cheek. "Well, uhh—I—I was just thinking . . . in case I ever got the courage to give it to Adrien today . . ."

Now, she wouldn't be able to do that anymore.

"Why don't I carry your bag for the rest of the trip?" Félix offered.

"What? Why?"

"That's really heavy isn't it? You've been carrying it the whole day."

Marinette rolled her shoulders. "Okay, I am a bit sore. But I can bring your things in exchange!"

"If that's what you want," he agreed.

Marinette checked the time on her watch. They still had a couple hours before they moved on to their last destination. She took out her leather-bound sketchbook and a mechanical pencil. "Since we've got time in our hands, do you mind if I get some sketching done?" She flipped the sketchbook open into an empty page. "The Palace got me inspired."

"Sure . . . I'll just—"

"Aha! I have this for you." She reached inside her (seemingly bottomless) bag and brought out a small book.

Félix read the title out loud. "The Edeiem Sword. You actually got this?"

"Yup! I've been wanting to read a book for a while now. I remembered you saying that you wanted to read it but you didn't have time to look for it in London." Her eyes lit up. "You can read it while we wait here."

"That's . . . how come you thought about this book?"

"Eh, you seem to have a good taste in books, that's why I took a recommendation from you."

He opened it carefully to avoid curling the spine too much. A spark of glee took form in the pit of his stomach as he basked in the fact that she thought of him while choosing a book.

They stayed quiet under the calm sky. Every fifteen minutes or so, Félix's eyes would stray from the inked words and towards Marinette's drawing. Her pencil moved around wildly as she brought random drawings to life. At one point, she filled up a page and moved to another to begin a dress design. Later on, he found himself looking at her—at the way her lips moved with concentration, the way she wrinkled her nose, and the way her dainty fingers commanded the pencil.

Félix set the book on his lap to take the time mollifying his racing heart. When the switches happened, he'd often feel foreign in his new skin, crushed under the demand of keeping a smile and embodying someone he wasn't. But maybe—just maybe—the reason he still agreed to do it was right beside him.

#felinette #miraculous ladybug #felix month #felix week 2022 #felix week #marinette dupain cheng #pv felix #smitten felix #unrequited love #or is it #field trips #mlb felix

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