[HAS A NEW LAPTOP, CAN LOG INTO TUMBLR FOR FIRST TIME IN MONTHS, KISSES ALL OF YOUR DUSTY FACES, HELLO, HELLO]
Marvel Cinematic Universe | 91711 words | Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, various
In which Bucky is the new kid, Steve is the square who takes him in, Tony and Pepper fight over valedictorian a year in advance, Thor remains a golden god, Loki remains a drama queen, Natasha commits an act of vigilante justice, Clint somehow fails to make a your mom joke, Darcy is a Satanist, Jane is a goth, Sif is fine thank you very much, Sam climbs a tree, Peggy says no, Rumlow is a bully, and Mrs. Rogers, Mr. Coulson, and Ms. Hill are all very long-suffering.
Or: the story of the year Bucky Barnes finally learned how to talk to at least one other human being, discovered J. D. Salinger, started to try in school (kind of), got a haircut, landed a punch, almost got arrested, and kissed a boy on the mouth.
So this is. Um. Like a month and a half ago I got wind of this and my reaction was something like: “Uh…. I don’t know if I want to read that? Like no matter how good it is it’s still a high school AU” which is something that fundamentally doesn’t appeal to me, in part because I had a totally abnormal adolescence and am ?!?? about the shared hallucination of “high school.” In fact I believe I thought: “Oh, no, I’m not going to be able to finish it, and I’m going to feel really bad, because I can’t lie about it.”
But: reader, I finished it. I finished it in one go, without stopping. And let’s lay down the facts here: this is only in the very loosest sense fanfic. In the strictest sense, it is a novel written by a madwoman who has decided to combine two fistfuls of George Eliot with two fistfuls of Gordan Korman. It’s one of the most truthful, beautiful, and painful documents of adolescence you’ll ever read, but it also caused me to laugh until I cried. I may have also cried for other reasons but we won’t talk about that.
I beg of you to commit your time to this strange, marvelous, heartbreaking thing.
Stiles Stilinski on Derek Hale, probably
Clint keeps trying to see if that changes anything, alters the foundational embarrassments of his — what did Xavier call it, an “undisclosed admiration”? It doesn’t. It just makes his stomach churn, something in his gut ache from looking at restaurant menus and into the windows of grocery stores. Those things on the other side aren’t his to have, and neither were Coulson’s secrets, but that doesn’t make Clint any less hungry. He would have probably — okay, definitely — made fun of Coulson, but at least he would have known, he would have been able to poke Coulson in the shoulder and then Clint could hook his chin over Coulson’s shoulder and ask snotty questions.
What’s this forum? Are you its den mother? Who are these assholes? Why didn’t you tell me about it? Has Rogers seen this? Have you figured out yet that I’ve decided to keep that vigilante that was running around shooting gray rapists in the face as a kind of angry apprentice? Who is Pam? Will you kiss me? Can I keep you? Do you want to meet my dog? Could you love me, if I tried really hard?"
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