#and I haven’t done any homework all weekend

[rainysaturdayafternoon]

it’s half midnight and I haven’t done shit

[calico-kiwi]

someone save me helllpppppp

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 6

Din Djarin x f!reader | 2.5k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: You can't avoid it any longer -- it's time for you and Din to talk.

a/n: I feel like this is the moment many of you have been waiting for, lol. I'm very excited to see your reactions! See my notes at the end and on the masterlist about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: gen, ballet terms (see end notes and the masterlist for definitions and videos), a bit more angst (sorry), but they are going to talk!

Chapter 6

You thought about your conversation with Kuiil as you walked to your rehearsal with Adrian, as you stretched and practiced in your morning classes, and as you took the stage over the weekend in Vince’s piece in the mixed program. You thought about it as you watched Din and Yuna in the Balanchine ballet and as you did your PT for your ankles and as you talked with Talia about your role in Midsummer. You thought about it as you sat on the bus home at night, so tired and achy that you needed something to think about to keep you awake.

You thought about it so much you barely had time to think about anything else.

Was Kuiil right? Was Din more uncertain than frustrated? Was he finding it difficult to communicate and connect in a way he hadn’t before, at CBC? You thought about seeing him on stage with Yuna, and how effortless that had seemed. But Balanchine’s choreography, more than so many others, was so technical, so focused on precision. There was so much less room for the dancer in a ballet where all of the space was taken up by striving for technical perfection. 

In class, you let your eyes stray to Din for the first time in two weeks. You watched as he stretched and jumped and wondered if perhaps you had just been talking past each other.

What if he’s trying, and you simply haven’t realized it? What if he just doesn’t know how?

He’s never done this before, you reminded yourself. 

Your mind was swimming as you stepped into the studio for your fourth rehearsal with Kuiil. You found Din was already there, as usual, and tried not to stare as you worried over your questions. You resolved to be more observant, this time.

And this time, because you were looking for it, you finally saw what Kuiil was talking about.

More than once, as you danced, Din reached for you, literally and figuratively. You leapt past and he oriented his body towards yours, echoing your movement. He turned, but kept his eyes on you as he did. You could see him trying in the ways he knew, to shape his movements around yours, to showcase his partner on stage, but his discomfort with improvisation shone through. The problem was that all of his movements were so stylistically different from yours, that there was little for you to hold on to. And so the two of you struggled to react to each other, as Kuiil had asked.

You tried. You tried to respond to him, to react, but it threw both of you off. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to improvise so drastically. Suddenly the dance was disjointed, and you fell so badly out of step in trying to turn towards him when he moved away from you that you stumbled. 

The music stopped.

Din turned to look at Kuiil and you spun around to do the same. 

Kuiil simply looked at you both for a moment, and then sighed. “I have pushed you too much, I think, and forgotten the basics of partnership. And you will need to work together, to connect more deeply, as we begin the second movement.” You started to shake your head, but Kuiil held up his hand. “No. Here is what we will do, as you prepare for Midsummer and Swan Lake.”

And then he gave you homework.

…

“So, what, is Kuiil going to lock you in a room until you talk to each other?” Adrian’s voice was teasing, but you could tell he meant it.

“Not quite,” you said. “But instead of rehearsal next week we’re supposed to try to get to know each other. To talk.”

He smirked at you. “Ooooh, to talk.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yes?” You poked him in the side and he yelped. “Stop teasing me and help me figure out what to talk to him about.”

He laughed. “I think you know what to talk about. You just have to figure out how to get him to talk at all.”

You shook your head. “He’s talked to me. Just not about… this.” You waved your arm at all of the problems you’d been having in rehearsal.

Adrian seemed to consider that for a moment. “You know, you’re right. He does talk to you, in a way he doesn’t talk to anyone else.” He furrowed his brow. “Maybe all you need to do is ask.”

…

You followed Adrian’s advice and started with simply asking Din to meet you at the rehearsal studio, without Kuiil, to talk. He agreed readily and you decided to take that as a good sign.

It was the week of Midsummer’s debut, and you were focused to the point of distraction on your role as Hermia. You appreciated it for taking your mind off of the disaster that was the pas de deux, though, and by the time you found yourself outside of the studio where you’d meet Din you realized you’d barely thought about the meeting at all.

(Well, not much. Not as much as the week before, at least.)

He was, as usual, already inside.

You closed the door behind you and dropped your bag and shoes before moving to join him where he sat with his back to the mirror. As you slid down beside him, he nodded in greeting. 

“So,” you said, when it became obvious Din wasn’t going to jump in first. “I think we both know what the problem is, but where do we start?”

You looked at Din and took a moment to observe him up close. He was staring straight ahead, but you didn’t think he was looking at anything in particular. He seemed too inside his own mind for that.

Just when you began to worry that you’d have to push him, that this wasn’t going to work because he wasn’t going to meet you halfway, he spoke.

“I’m sorry.” 

You blinked, startled — you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. Did he think you meant he was the problem?

“What? Din, no—”

He shook his head and finally turned to look at you. His expression was as closed to you as always. “No, I want to say this. Let me… let me say this. I should have told you this weeks ago, but I can’t…” he trailed off, but this time you didn’t interrupt. You turned slightly towards him on the floor, extending your left leg and drawing your right knee to your chest. You gave him your full attention. He looked down at his hands and continued, softly. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve been so worried that I won’t be able to… to let go of my training. To dance in any other way. To do anything else.” 

You wanted to reach out to him, but you were worried he would startle if you did. You laced your own fingers together and squeezed your hands around your knee.

“I can see the problems, but I don’t know how to fix them. I don’t know how to move like you do. I don’t know how to do anything but what I’ve always done. I don’t know…” Suddenly he looked up at you, and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sheer emotion in his eyes. “I want to dance this with you. I want to partner with you. But I can’t seem to figure out how — not because of you. Because of me.”

You were reaching before you could stop yourself and lightly rested your hand on his forearm. He didn’t startle, but he did look down at it, brow furrowed. You forced yourself to leave it there and squeezed his arm lightly. 

“Din, I…” you weren’t sure how to reassure him. You’d seen his discomfort in rehearsals and you knew this was new to him, even if he hadn’t told you so before. You decided to share your own worries instead, since he had just been so open with his own. “This is the biggest role I’ve ever gotten. I mean, you know I’ve got Hermia, and then the spring fairy in Cinderella… but I’ve never been chosen for something like this before. I’ve never had a chance like this.” He lifted his head and met your eyes again, and this time his eyes were soft. It encouraged you to continue. “And you’re so good, I’ve been so worried that I’m not…” you bit your lip and squeezed his arm again when he opened his mouth. You shook your head and he nodded, letting you continue. “That I’m not good enough. I’ve had bad reviews before and I’m not even a principal and I know there are people out there who think I’m not good enough to be one. I—”

This time, Din cut you off. “That’s absurd.” His tone was flat, like his point was so obvious he couldn’t believe he had to say it.

You blinked. “What?”

He tilted his head, his gaze dancing over your face. He covered your hand on his left arm with his right and squeezed. “Of course you deserve to be a principal. They should have already promoted you. Karga clearly wants to, anyway. You’re a beautiful dancer.”

Your mouth dropped open. “What?”

The corner of his mouth lifted in that barely-there smile and you felt your cheeks start to heat as his praise continued. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice me watching you. It wasn’t just for our homework. You’re… amazing. I don’t know how you put so much emotion into your dancing at the same time as so much such skill and technique. Like in Midsummer, everything you bring to Hermia, it’s…” His eyes scanned your face again, and you wondered if you were gaping at him. It felt like it. “It’s so real. And connected. I feel like a robot, compared to you. I’ve been trying to find that connection for myself, but…” he trailed off again and let his hand slip from where it covered your own. You took your hand back, too.

A connection, he said. “Um, thank you. Maybe…” you started, hesitant. He looked at you again. “Maybe we can help each other. Practice together, outside of our rehearsals.”

He nodded. You nodded back, and then you both laughed, a little. You’d never seen him laugh before and couldn’t help but stare.

You felt a bit shaky after all of that honesty and decided to lighten the air a little. “Ok, well, one thing we definitely need to do is get to know each other, right? So we’re comfortable together.” He nodded, and his expression was so open you had to force yourself to keep going, rather than to simply marvel at the fact that he’d dropped his mask. For you. “So. How about we each get 10 questions, but we can pass if we need to. Ok?”

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

You shrugged. “It’s a good way to get to know someone, especially when you have to dance with someone new.”

Din nodded. “Alright. You go first.”

Over the next half hour you learned that Din’s favorite color was black (“come on, really?” “Fine, my second favorite is green.”), he hated smart technology (“I don’t want my fridge to talk to me. I want it to be a fridge.”), and his favorite ballet he’d ever been in was, surprisingly, Giselle (“it’s not in the normal repertoire there, and they didn’t like how I danced it. But I did. It was the most free I’ve ever felt on stage.”).

You wanted to ask more about why he’d left CBC, but that felt like too much for your first real conversation. You did learn, though, that he had a son.

“Grogu,” he said, “that’s his name. He’s five. He loves watching ballet.” Din smiled a little, looking off into the distance. “I don’t know if he’ll want to dance, but at least he likes watching me do it.”

You smiled. He was more open when he talked about his son, who must have been the little boy you saw him with, back in December. “Sounds like he sits through it better than my family.”

Din laughed, and shook his head. “We’ll see if it changes as he gets older.”

“Is that why you’re always in such a hurry?”

He nodded. “My friend takes care of him during the day, but I hate leaving him for so long. She lives close by so I try to go home for lunch, on the weekends, or to pick him up from school.”

That made sense. A new understanding of Din was forming in your mind — not an avoidant, aloof principal dancer, but a father who wanted to spend time with his son as much as he wanted to dance. Someone with more on his mind than fitting into this new company — you imagined the move must have been difficult on Grogu, too. 

“How’s he settling in here?”

Din looked at you, that little half smile back on his lips. “Just fine. He likes his new kindergarten, he’s made some friends. Better than I even hoped, really.”

You nodded. “That’s good. I’m glad he’s liking it. I bet that was a difficult transition for him. And you.”

Din sighed. “A bit. But it was necessary.”

Before you could even consider asking what he meant by that, you both heard commotion in the hall. You checked the time and realized you needed to get to your next rehearsal. Din stood first and offered you his hand.

You slid your hand into his, and he squeezed it as he pulled you up. 

“This was a good idea,” he said, squeezing your hand again. “Do you think next week will go better?”

You nodded. “I think so. But do you want to meet beforehand, to talk about the choreography? Maybe figure out where we can find each other instead of missing each other.”

He nodded. “I’d like that.”

…

You felt lighter after your conversation with Din. You hadn’t solved the problem, of course, but you’d at least talked to each other. It felt like the air was clearer, now that you both knew the other was struggling in some way. Neither of you was alone in it.

Over the weekend you focused on Midsummer — it was a big deal for you, getting cast as Hermia. You were excited to dance through her turmoil. She was so torn, as a character, and you wanted to portray that on stage. 

As you prepared and stretched on Friday night, you thought about what Din had said — that he couldn’t figure out how to dance in a new way, and that he felt like a robot. You shook your head. A robot? You weren’t sure what he was feeling while he danced, but Din never looked like a robot when he was performing. He’d said, too, that he loved being in Giselle, an overall more emotional performance than much of CBC’s usual repertoire. That he’d felt free. 

You thought about his face, every time you’d seen behind the mask, and you knew he could do it. You just had to help him figure out how to find that connection again, and how to lower the mask more while he was performing.

As you stepped out on stage that night, you let that certainty ground you. As you performed your variation, you’d never felt more like you were floating.

...

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a/n: they talked!!! what do we think?

Pas de deux & partnering -- Partnering in ballet is hard! There has to be a lot of trust and communication between partners, even though you don't necessarily need to be like best friends. These two are so advanced and have been in companies for so long that they are able to jump into something like this, but they still have to establish a partnering relationship, which is tough! To give you an idea of just some of what goes into partnering, here's a video of "beginning tips" (skip to around ~12:00 for some interesting stuff on balance). Din is used to verrrrry formal partnering, and that is some of the reason for their communication issues.

Midsummer - reader is dancing the role of Hermia in A Midsummer's Night Dream, which can go to either a principal or a soloist, just depending on the company. Here's a nice overview of the two acts and the ballet from the San Francisco Ballet. Here's a video of a dancer breaking down the role. Here's a couple examples of Hermia's famous variation (solo): one, two. Hermia has other big moments in the ballet but I've mostly been mentioning reader prepping for the solo. Companies might also spread out the roles over different nights or weekends -- in this case reader has Hermia for one weekend, like Adrian has Puck for one weekend (which isn't really mentioned in the fic because I didn't think it was relevant). (Is it a little unbelievable that reader is so unsure about her possible promotion if she got this role? Maybe. Soloists could get this role, especially a first soloist!)

Spring fairy - reader is dancing the role of the spring fairy in Cinderella, too. This and Midsummer are big story ballets that would draw an audience. Here's another two performances of the spring fairy variation and all of the fairies in one video from a 2003 Royal Ballet production. Spring starts ~2:30. The wiki page has a nice overview of the numbers in each act, so you can see where the fairies come in. The wiki lists 4 acts, though, and most companies do it like ABT I think -- with 2 acts. And here's a full length recording.

Giselle - Din mentions this briefly and we'll learn more later, but here's an overview of the ballet. (it's one of my favs)

tag list coming in a reblog!

[tsukkisdinocollection]

hi hiraya!! im mylah, ur name sounds super cool! 😋

i would like to request romantic and fluffy moment between the reader and sugawara :)

idk if u'd like a prompt or not, but here's one if u wanna use it! : sugawara has been cramped in his room all day doing homework n studying, so the reader comes over to give him a comforting back massage and to just hang out and maybe watch a movie...?

idk! feel free to change it up or write about anything haha i just wanna read a fic about my boy 🧡 i miss him!!

Reversed Roles

⭑ Pairing : Koshi Sugawara x Reader (Romantic)

⭑ Content Warning(s) : Reader is gender-neutral with no pronouns specified, very light angst in the beginning (if you squint), swearing (it happens once), Koshi lowkey being a hypocrite, not proofread, established relationship

⭑ Word Count : 0.9k+

⭑ Synopsis : After not spending a lot of time with your boyfriend, you decide to visit him.

⭑ Author's Note : He's so underrated oh my gosh. 😭 I love him so much !! Also your name sounds very lovely as well!

The past couple of days, you haven’t been spending much time with your boyfriend, Koshi.

You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong – you’ve treated him like you have other days, with utter love and cherished him with all your heart. When you two did have time together, he has been acting the same like he always has. Besides, he would tell you if you had done something wrong, right?

It was the weekend when you decided to visit him. You carried a little basket, filled with your and his favorite snacks, as well as a couple face masks you two could try out.

The sun was beginning to set, the moon slowly replacing it as you walked over to his house. You knocked on the door lightly, being greeted by his mother.

“Oh, hello,” she said, opening the door wider. “He’s in his bedroom.”

You thanked her, before heading upstairs. You knew his place like the back of your hand from visiting his house so much. You always insisted on visiting him rather than him visiting you because your place was “so messy”. Today was not any different.

As you knocked on the door leading to his bedroom, there was no response, other than the crinkling of papers. Then, you heard a shuffling before the door opened. Koshi looked slightly more disheveled than usual, hair out of place and eyebags prominent.

“Hey…” he scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

His voice was more hoarse than usual.

You held the basket up higher. “I wanted to surprise you today.”

He nodded, taking the basket from you with gentle hands. “Thanks. Uhm, sorry for the mess.”

He seemed exhausted, with his movements much slower than before. You sighed softly, paying no mind to the scattered papers all over his room. You turned your attention to his desk, staring at his laptop with a document opened.

“Were you in the middle of typing something?” you asked, glancing over at the lit-up screen.

“Yeah, my homework.”

“Oh,” you said, voice softening. “I should leave then, I wouldn’t want to disturb you–”

“No, it’s fine,” he replied, giving you a lop-sided smile. “You being here makes things better, anyway. Unless you don’t want to be here; it can feel kind of lonely being here while I’m just doing my homework.”

“It’s alright,” you smiled back at him, sitting down on his bed. Hands planting themselves by your sides, you looked around the room.

Just then, you heard his stomach growl. You whipped your head to him, eyebrow raising.

“You should eat. There’s a couple snacks in that basket. Your favorites.”

He thanked you, taking out a bag of chips and opening it. He popped one in his mouth before sitting down at his desk, typing away.

It was silent for a few minutes. Not an awkward one, though – a comforting one. Like those moments when you’d sleep over at his house, his arm wrapped around his waist as you two slowly fell into a deep slumber.

You noticed how he seemed to slump, attention purely on his laptop. You got up, making your way to him before stopping right behind him.

“How long have you been working on that?” you spoke quietly, as to not startle him. That failed, however, when he jumped slightly.

“A couple hours,” he responded. You pursed your lips tightly together.

“Have you taken a break?”

“Not yet.”

“You should.”

“After I work on this.”

You knew how stubborn he could be sometimes, and you didn’t press on the subject. Instead, you decided to place your hands on his shoulders, massaging them with your thumbs. He relaxed his back, and you smiled softly.

“Take a break, Koshi.”

“I still have to finish this–”

“You haven’t taken a break in so long. You deserve it. C’mon.”

You coaxed him into his bed, him lying on his stomach as you decided to try and massage his back. God only knows how long he’s spent with his back hunched over, working on that stupid assignment.

After a while, you stopped, instead laying on your back next to him. You turned your head to him, and turned to face you, a wide grin on his face.

“Thank you, dear.”

“Of course.”

A period of comforting silence fell upon you two once again before he spoke up.

“Now, I should really get back to work–”

A frown formed on your face as you took his wrist, grip gently and loosened, yet he didn’t make a move to pull away.

“Let’s watch a movie.”

“But I have work–”

“You can’t just overwork yourself and then get upset at your teammates for doing the same thing you’re doing to yourself right now,” you reasoned. That seemed to have shut him up, with how he pouted. You chuckled at the expression on his face, reaching out to give him a peck on the cheek. His pout fell, replaced with a cheesy smile.

“There’s this one movie we didn’t get to watch last time I slept over here,” you said, smirking slyly.

“You do know I purposefully avoided watching that movie because it scares the shit out of me, right?”

You nodded, smirk widening.

He scoffed before letting out a playful laugh, nudging your shoulder. “Fine. Let’s watch.”

It was ironic, really – the “mother” of Karasuno’s boys’ volleyball team being taken care of by his partner. But with how you held him in his arms as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, having just yelped from a jumpscare…

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[hauntedrain]

Midnight rain | Remus Lupin x Slytherin! Reader|

Prompt/inspo:” Midnight rain” by Taylor Swift. Maybe a bit of “you're losing me”.

A/N: Maybe I’ll make part 2? First official fic I’ve written so might not be the best. Not edited.

Warnings: Some cussing (very little), first person POV, once again not edited, so bad grammar and potentially bad spelling. A little bit of out of character Remus and a bit of angst?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why are you doing this? Com’n… did I do something?”

I could smell burnt wood and chocolate off of him, he wrapped his arms around me as I continued to do my homework. Homework that I desperately needed to finish.

“No, I just need to get this done Remus. Give me a minute.” I say, I get up and out of his arms, to walk over to my bookshelf looking for a book for transfigurations.

“Give it a break Y/N.” I looked at him for the first time tonight. His hair was a bit of a mess, he also looked tired, and you could see his eyes were a bit sleepy. He was in a sweater that Sirius gave him last year for Christmas and baggy jeans, something we could only wear on the weekends of hogwarts. “You’ve been studying 24/7, I haven’t talk to you in fucking days. And if we have talked all you do is reply with one word responses.”

“Remus. I’m trying to finish this. I’m just busy, I have things to do.” I say in a bit of a snappy voice. I just needed to get this homework done so I could get the rest of the weekend and following week off. But it was difficult chasing that outcome when you were constantly bombarded with requests from others.

“You’ve been busy ignoring me. Just stop for a few hours. Come sit with me, play chess with me, something!” He exclaimed, he looked hurt, his hands were in slight fists, not in a mad way but a desperate way.

“Like I said, I need to finish this. I’ll be done in a bit, just give me a minute. Just because you have everything done and set doesn’t mean I do! Just please Remmy. Give me a bit.”

He looked at me with desperate eyes but then slightly turned away to pick up the stuff he put on the desk. “Fine. I’ll see you… I’ll see you when you’re finally done.” He looked at me one last time and then went out the door without another word.

I put the book back on the shelf and walked over to my desk, I had a bit more pages to go and then I’ll be done. I’ll talk to him tomorrow if I end up finishing by tonight.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Did you finish the homework for transfigurations?” Severus asked me as we walked to breakfast.

“Yea, I got it done last night. Did you do the potions homework?” I asked as we walked into the great hall, we went directly to the Slytherin table where Regulus and his friends sat.

“No, it’s not due until Friday. Did you finish it?” Severus asked, he smiled at me and continued. “I don’t even think I have to ask, do I?” He started to put toast and eggs on his plate as he talked.

“Of course. It’s better to get it done than wait. Hi Regulus.” I replied to Severus before acknowledging Regulus.

“Hi miss overachiever. How’s your guy’s morning?” Regulus asked, he looked between Sevurus and I. I laughed slightly before replying,

“My morning is nice so far, do you guys have any plans today? I need to go to Hogsmeade later so I can pick up a new book and quill, would you guys like to join me?” I asked, I finished my toast and eggs so I started to get up. I was waiting for them to reply but then I felt a tap on my shoulder that followed with a greeting. Turning around I was faced with Remus. “Oh. Hi.” I saw smiling a bit. I gave him a kiss on the cheek before pulling back. “Do you need anything?”

“I wanted to talk to you, can you come to the hall with me? Just for a bit.” He said pulling my hand a bit so I could move with him out of the great hall.

“Uh, yea sure.” We walk out of the great hall into the side corridors, it’s pretty cold in them due to it being mid winter.. “What do you need to talk about?” I ask as we face each other.

“I wanted to know if you wanted to go to dinner with me tonight,” He asked “I’m sorry for getting mad last night, I know you want to finish those things but sometimes I miss you. So will you go to dinner with me?”

I smiled before replying, “of course. And you don’t need to be sorry, I know I work a lot but I need to finish and do things like that.” I say pulling him closer. I smile up at him before giving him an actual kiss this time. I could feel him smile into the kiss as he put his hand on my waist.

This isn't something we do a lot, especially in public, people have and are very reluctant on a Slytherin and Gryffindor dating. It was hard to get both of our friends to fully accept but overall now it’s fine. But we still take precautions which means little to no PDA In Public. “I’ll see you tonight then? I can get you at 6:35?.”

“Yes Mr. Lupin. 6:35 is fine.” I say before walking away back into the great hall so Regulus, Severus and I can go to hogsmeade.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

During dinner with Remus ~

“Well I mean I don’t know… maybe just go with the flow? Settle down?” Remus said he was in an old band tee that fit him oversized. We sat in a slightly dim ThreeBroomSticks while eating dinner.

“Settle down? Like…” I said kinda surprised, we talked about life in the future before, getting married and having kids. But I thought we would wait, not something right after hogwarts. I had plans and dreams to chase, I wanted to be known, and known in a good way and not in a bad way.

“Yea, settle down. Do you not want that? I thought you did.” He said he titled his head looking a bit sad and worried. He put down his fork and looked at me with his full attention.

“Yeah I did… but like right after hogwarts? Don’t you think that’s too soon? I want to travel and work, I just think we should wait.” I said slightly confused.

“Why wait? James and Lily are doing the same, and I bet they’ll still travel and work.” He wasn’t mad when he said this, but I could tell he was slightly offended. He pulled back his body so he would lean back onto the booth chair and crossed his arms. His face was slightly hurt but more so confused.

“But that’s James and Lily. They’ve said it over and over again that they don’t have anything big, they don’t have any big goals or dreams they want to complete. I want to and need to go after my goals, I don’t wanna settle down just like that, Remus. I want to make a name for myself.” I exclaimed. For me it was clear, I had goals and priorities, I wanted to work and do something meaningful for my life, I wanted to have a life that didn't revolve around a husband and kids. I didn’t wanna be a stay at home wife or a stay at home mom, I wanted something more, I wanted to chase that fame to make myself a name.

“It’s always about the fame for you isn’t it? Why do you need to be known far and wide? Those people won’t know you for who you are, I do. We talked about this, do you really not want this? Or that? Any of what we discussed?” He said, this time it was with anger however not loud, no one was really in here with us besides the servers and the bartenders so it wasn’t causing a scene.

“I want something for myself! Why is that so foreign? It’s not like I don’t want the stuff we discussed, I just assumed that we would wait a bit.”

“Y/N. Answer me honestly. If I were to ask you right now, if you wanted to marry me, would you say no?”

Once again I was surprised. I didn’t expect him to ask that. He looked at me with curious hurt eyes, it wasn’t something you see often from Remus. He was quiet and more closed off, so emotions vivid from his eyes weren't a very often thing to see. Nonetheless I didn’t know what to say, I knew what I wanted with my life but I didn’t want to throw his “proposal” away like nothing. Everytime I wanted to say something it didn’t sound right, or it didn’t come out. Eventually after opening my mouth slightly and then closing it once again Remus scoffed.

“Say something Y/N, choose something! Come on… really?” He said desperately. He looked at me as if I just killed him after I didn’t respond. He ran his hand through his hair before he got up and walked out, he didn’t look back once. He left.

I sat there confused on what to do. Does this mean we’re done and over? Did I just ruin everything? Did I lose the love of my life or was it not going to work? Was I crazy to want a name for myself?

I got up and paid, and I started to walk out the door. It was late, extremely late. I opened the door and it was raining. Midnight rain.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Game Night

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 13, Jazz decides to make things better in the best way she can think of.

...

So Danny fought Vlad without her, and Jazz is a little annoyed by it.  Sure, things have been a little awkward between them lately, but she knows for a fact that she never gave the impression that she’s done helping her brother.  She’ll never be done helping her brother.  When did she have to start trying to prove that?

Well, whatever.  Either way, she’s not letting Danny do this alone.  And if he’s not letting her help with fights and he’s not letting her help with his friends who are being real jerks, that leaves one area left Jazz can reasonably put some effort into.

“Hey, Mom?  Dad?”

Mom turns from the invention she’s tinkering with and gives Jazz a smile.  “Hi, sweetie!  Did you just get home?  How was school?”

Jazz nods in response to her question, then says, “School was good.  I was wondering if I could talk to you and Dad about something?”

“Sure Princess, what’s going on?” Dad says, moving over to stand next to Mom.

Jazz takes a breath, readying herself for how little Danny’s probably going to like this.

“Do you think we could start having a family game night?” she asks.

Both of her parents look surprised and a little caught off guard, and Jazz can’t blame them.  Her request probably sounds like it comes out of nowhere.  If Danny were here, he’d probably be staring at her like she’s crazy too.

“A family game night?” Mom asks, sounding confused but not against the idea, which is a good start.

“I’ve just noticed we’re all super busy most of the time,” Jazz says, keeping her tone casual.  “You guys are ghost hunting or working here in the lab, Danny and I have school and homework, we just haven’t seen much of each other recently.  I thought it would be nice to have something consistent we can all look forward to doing together.”

Mom brightens, and Jazz knows she’s succeeded.

“Oh sweetie, that’s a wonderful idea,” she says.  “Did you have a night in mind?”

“I was thinking Fridays,” Jazz says.  “That way Danny and I won’t have to worry about any homework right away, and it’ll be right before the weekend for you guys too.”  And Danny can stay up as late as he needs to for ghost fighting and sleep in the next day, Jazz adds on in her head.

“That sounds like a great plan Jazzo,” Dad calls happily.

“Do you want to pick out some games tomorrow?” Mom asks.  “I don’t know if we have many in the house.”

“I’ll pick some up after school,” Jazz says.  “I have a few ideas.”

“Thanks sweetie, that would be lovely.  I’m looking forward to it,” Mom says with a bright smile, and Jazz gives one back before heading back out of the lab and letting them get back to worth.

She glances at the oven clock in the kitchen as she passes and notes that she still has a couple hours before Danny comes home.  He apparently missed Nasty Burger with his friends yesterday, so they’re making it up today.  Jazz hasn’t had a chance to ask him what happened yet, but he seemed happier when he got home from school, so she can’t really object.

For now, she heads up to her room to do her homework as she runs over the plan again in her mind.  It’s not a short one, and it’s probably not going to run totally smoothly.  Especially if she doesn’t get a chance to talk to Danny about it first.

But she can do that either while they’re out patrolling tonight or in the car ride tomorrow, depending on how busy it is.  Figuring out when to do it is the easy part.  The hard part’s going to be convincing him.

…

“What?  No way,” Danny says, predictably.  He turns to look at her from his seat.  “Are you crazy?”

“It can’t go that badly,” Jazz says, giving him a quick glance before refocusing her attention on the road.

“Jazz.  Seriously.  Did you decide to tempt the fates today?  ‘It can’t go that badly?’  What are you talking about?  Of course it can go badly!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jazz says.  “I mean there’s a limit to how bad it can go when we’re doing all the talking to them without you going ghost.  Without bringing Phantom into it at all.”

“Oh, so instead of hearing them talk about how they want to dissect me specifically, I can hear them talk about how they want to dissect ghosts in general!  That’s so much better!”

Jazz doesn’t say anything for a second.  Danny seems to get that she’s not done, though, and after a second he turns to her.  “What?”

“It’s not… fair,” Jazz says slowly.  “But I think it’s pretty clear at this point that they’re not going to change their minds on their own.  We’ve got to bring it up first.  Even if it’s uncomfortable.”

“And we have to do this now, why?”

Jazz doesn’t say anything again.  She’s pretty sure he’s not going to take “I want at least one part of your life to be not terrible” as an answer.

“You should really try it,” she says instead.  “I’ll do most of the talking.  Just give it a shot.”

She can feel Danny glare at her, even if she doesn’t look away from the road.  “Well considering you pitched it as a family bonding activity, I doubt Mom’s going to let me get out of it on pain of death, so I’m going to have to, aren’t I?”

Jazz sighs.  “I really think it’s a good idea,” she says.

“Oh, well, as long as you think so,” Danny says, turning to glare out the window.  He goes on to not say anything to her for the rest of the drive, and gets out of the car and heads immediately for the school as soon as Jazz stops and pulls into a spot in the parking lot.

Jazz sighs and turns the car off, then climbs out to head into school.

…

Danny seems a little less irritated by the idea on the drive home that afternoon, but Jazz can’t tell if that’s because she hasn’t brought it up yet, and she’d rather not tempt fate.  So instead, she asks if he has plans for the weekend now that he’s not grounded anymore.  And this is when Danny throws her a curveball.

“Actually, yeah,” he says.  “I’m going to the park with Valerie Gray.”

Jazz gives him a quick surprised glance before turning back to the road.  “Valerie Gray?” she asks.  The park part of that plan is more than a little confusing too, but less confusing than who he’s doing it with.  She hadn’t thought the two of them were even the tiniest bit aware of each other, aside from that time Danny accidentally ruined Valerie’s life.  (Which he still hasn’t let go of, to Jazz’s annoyance.)

“Yeah,” Danny says.  “We ran into each other totally by accident yesterday after the fight with Vlad, and then we just kind of… hung out together, by accident mostly.  But it was fun, so we’re doing it again.”

Jazz smiles.  So that’s what he did instead of the park.

“That’s great,” she says, keeping her gaze on the road but making sure Danny can see her smile.  “I didn’t realize that’s what you did instead of Nasty Burger.”

But then Danny goes quiet again, and Jazz knows she’s said the wrong thing.

“That’s not what I meant,” she says.  “I just meant, I’m glad to see you’re having fun with someone.”

Danny sighs.  “I know what you meant,” he mutters, and at least he doesn’t sound angry.

Jazz sighs and doesn’t say anything else.

Being this direct with Danny would definitely be a bad idea, but Sam and Tucker are pissing her off.  They don’t have to like Phantom, that’s fine.  (Mostly.  Not at all.  It’s not fine, but that’s not the point.)  From what little Danny says about Sam and Tucker these days, it seems to be all they talk about now.  And Jazz can tell it’s getting to her little brother.

Because of course it is.  His closest friends spend all of their time together angrily ranting about how much Danny sucks, of course it’s getting to him.

If it wouldn’t just make things much worse, Jazz would give the two a giant sister-sized smack upside the head.

Danny doesn’t say anything else until they arrive at home, and Jazz doesn’t try and fill the silence.  But for as much she doesn’t want him to constantly be thinking about Game Night, she doesn’t want him to forget it either.  So as they both walk into the house and Danny starts for the stairs, Jazz weighs her options, then calls out, “Don’t forget we’re having our first game night after dinner!”

Danny shoots her a glare, but it’s a little less angry than the ones she got this morning, so Jazz counts it as a win and heads over to look through the board game selection she picked up yesterday.

She’ll save the chessboard for her and Mom, as she doesn’t imagine Danny or Dad would take to it as well as the two of them would.  Danny and Dad would definitely like Battleships more than them, but it’s a two person game anyway, so she sets that aside too.  The games she bought that would work for four people are Uno, Sorry, and Yahtzee, and out of the three, the last one sounds like the one it’ll be easiest to have a conversation over.  So she sets the other two aside as backups and sets up Yahtzee on the coffee table.

Then she heads upstairs to finish her homework, knowing she has an hour or so before Mom will call her and Danny down for dinner.

She doesn’t need much time to finish her homework, but she’s already settled on a game plan, leaving her with not much to do for several hours.  So, even though she definitely won’t need them tonight, she starts piling through the evidence she’s been collecting on the consciousness and psychology of ghosts.

It’s slow going, especially considering most ghosts aren’t exactly the type to stop and chat about how their brains work, but Jazz is getting somewhere.  She’s seen enough from Danny to thoroughly discard the “ghosts are malicious monsters who somehow also have no consciousness and can’t feel pain” theories that her parents have been working under.  But she doesn’t have much in regards to an alternative theory, especially in scientific ways.  She’ll get laughed out of the room by her parents if she shows them what she has to disprove their theory with no idea what’s actually happening.

But she doesn’t want to start asking invasive questions to Danny about how his brain works.  He has enough going on.

So, she’ll move slowly.  Let her parents discover the flaws in the theory themselves.

Hopefully.

“Jazz, Danny, dinner’s ready!” Mom calls up the stairs, and Jazz drops her notebook, startled.

“Yep, be right there Mom!” she calls back.  She pulls open her desk drawer, jimmies up the fake bottom, and slips her notebook inside it, then heads out and towards the steps.

Danny’s leaving his room the same time she is, and he gives Jazz one last glare but follows her down the stairs.

Mom is setting stove-grilled burgers out on the table, and miracle of miracles, none of them are glowing green this time.  After that she goes back to get cups with ice water, and Dad is setting silverware by everyone’s place for the slightly burnt potatoes that were cooked with the burgers.  It looks like a surprisingly appetizing dinner, and Jazz can tell Danny thinks so too as he sits down next to her.

“I thought I should make something a little fancy for tonight to celebrate our first game night!” Mom says in explanation as she sits down at her place with the last cup.  “Thanks for the great idea, Jazz!”

Jazz gives a smile that hopefully doesn’t come off as nervous.  She told Danny she’ll do most of the talking, and she will, but that doesn’t mean she’s not nervous about it.

“Thanks Mom,” she says.  “It’ll be nice to have something to look forward to at the end of the week.”

“I think so too Jazzercise,” Dad says with a grin at her.  “Though I still think a family ghost hunt would have been more fun.”

“No,” Jazz and Danny both say at the same time.

“The kids are right dear,” Mom says, patting him on the shoulder.  “We shouldn’t bring work into fun times with them, even if work is fun.”

“Exactly, a good work life balance is very important,” Jazz says, gripping her hands together tightly under the table.  “But actually, on the subject of ghosts—”

She ignores Danny’s not-so-subtle glare at her as both of her parents turn to her.

“You guys were in that fight downtown last night, right?” Jazz asks.  “With that dog ghost?”

“That was us, sweetie, thanks for noticing!” Mom says.  “But luckily it didn’t hurt anyone.  Calmed right down once Phantom showed up.  But we’ll have to keep an eye out, who knows what he’s planning on making it do—”

“Yeah that’s great Mom,” Jazz cuts her off, before she can start going off on a tangent about Phantom’s evil plans.  “But why didn’t it hurt anyone, do you think?”

Jazz sees Danny roll his eyes in her peripheral, and ignores him again.

“Oh I haven’t the slightest idea sweetheart,” Mom says.  “But ghosts don’t think logically like you and me.  It could be anything really.”

“Yeah, as long as we manage to capture it, who cares what it’s thinking?” Dad says, taking off half of his burger with a bite.

Jazz sighs.  “But don’t you think—” she starts, and is interrupted by Danny pushing back from the table and muttering something about suddenly not feeling well.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Mom calls after him.

“Fine!” Danny snaps, which is when Jazz knows she shouldn’t follow him just yet.

Instead, she turns back to Mom and Dad as soon as he’s vanished up the stairs.  “I think it wasn’t hurting people because it’s a dog,” she says plainly.  “A well trained one.  And it didn’t want to.”

“That’s a nice thought, Princess,” Dad says.  “But it’s still a ghost.  It’s dangerous.”

“So are normal dogs under the right circumstances,” Jazz says firmly.  “And didn’t you say it calmed down once Phantom showed up?  The same way a dog might if it saw its owner?”

“It’s still different from a human and a normal dog, sweetie,” Mom says.  “But I can see why you’d think that.”

“Can you think about it then?” Jazz asks.  “If you see where I’m coming from?  Can you consider it?”

Mom sighs, seeming a mix of amused and exasperated.  But then she says, “Alright sweetie, I’ll give it some thought.  But I still think you’re looking at this wrong.”

Jazz nods anyway.  Honestly, that’s probably about the best she could have expected.  “Thank you,” she says.

The rest of dinner is more lighthearted, and they talk about more basic stuff.  Jazz mentions the math test she aced last week, and Dad gives her a beaming smile and ruffles her hair just enough to be annoying.  Mom mentions the new invention she’s working on, and Jazz listens to the science while also making mental notes of any way it could hurt Danny.  The food is actually edible and surprisingly good for once, so Jazz can enjoy it.

But as the dinner starts to wrap up, Mom mentions that Danny still hasn’t come down, and stands up with a mention that she’ll go find him.

“I got him Mom!” Jazz calls.  She hops up immediately and heads off towards the stairs before Mom can protest.

She knocks on Danny’s door and calls out his name so he’ll know it’s her.  She waits a couple seconds, and Danny jerks the door open, though he doesn’t exactly look thrilled to see her.

He grabs her arm and pulls her inside, then slams the door shut behind them.

“Happy now?” he hisses, turning to face her.  And for all that he’s keeping his voice down, it does nothing to hide how angry he is.  “Are you satisfied?  Do you get yet that no one’s ever going to change their mind?”

“They said they’d think about it,” Jazz points out.

Danny blinks, seeming surprised for a second, then narrows his eyes.  “Because they see your point or because they’re humoring you?”

Jazz doesn’t say anything, and Danny rolls his eyes.  “That’s what I thought.”

“Danny, they’re not going to start by immediately accepting that they’re wrong,” Jazz says.  “That’s not how people change their minds.  Especially with things they believe in as strongly as our parents believe this stuff about ghosts.”

“Oh well that’s great, because I totally have the time and energy to put towards changing their minds slowly!” Danny snaps, before pausing and lowering his voice again.  “Let me just take a break from all the ghost fighting and homework I’m constantly drowning in and best friends who hate me and new Huntress sidekicks who want to kill me!  I’m sure I’ve got plenty of time in between all that!”

Jazz blinks, caught off guard.  “New Huntress sidekicks?  When did that happen?”

“That’s not the point,” Danny snaps.  “Look, Mom and Dad are so far down on my list of priorities right now it’s ridiculous.  And I would love to not have to also deal with them bad mouthing Phantom even more than they already do!  I get enough of that from Sam and Tucker!”

Jazz sighs.  “Okay,” she agrees.  “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Danny blinks.  “Huh?”

“You’re right, it’s not fair for you to have to deal with it.  I’ll talk to them on my own.”

Danny groans and drops his head into his hands.  “Ugh, no!   That’s not— I don’t want you to bother at all, Jazz!  It could just as easily make things worse!”

“It could also make things better,” Jazz says.  “I know what I’m doing, Danny.  I know how to talk to Mom and Dad.”

Danny scoffs and glares away, muttering something that sounds like “Why do I even bother.”

“Come on, no more ghost talk tonight.  Let’s go play a board game.”

Danny looks up at her incredulously.  “You were serious about that?”

“Yes,” Jazz says.  “It’s important for you to have some time where you can just relax and do things you enjoy.”

“Stop therapizing me,” Danny says.

“Good luck with that,” Jazz says plainly, and Danny groans.

“You gonna come play games with us?” Jazz asks.  “I actually think Mom and Dad are looking forward to it.  And I’m sure they’ll let you finish your dinner first.”

Danny glares at her, then mutters, “Fine.  But no ghosts, I mean it.”

“No ghosts,” Jazz agrees, holding up her hand.  “I swear.”

Danny sighs, sounding irritated and exhausted, but when Jazz heads out of the room a second later he follows her out, which is a start.

[vendetta-if]

July Exclusive Side Stories Up on Patreon and Ko-Fi 🎉

Hey guys, just thought of sharing some snippets of recent side stories uploaded on Patreon over the past few weeks 😀 More will be coming this month, of course, and a lot more are also available from the previous months.

If you guys are interested, please do consider checking out and subscribing on either Patreon or Ko-Fi! 🥰

[Patreon] | [Ko-Fi]

Side Story #1 Snippet

This one's written in Ash's POV and the scenario is a what-if MC died sacrificing themself to save Ash 😥

You watch numbly as the pallbearers move toward the hill that you’re standing on right now. This is the fourth time now that you, Uncle Luka, and Deda Pavel come here to bury someone and it’s clear from their expressions, they’re just as tired and defeated as you are right now. You thought by now, you would have lost the ability to feel any kind of grief, but instead, it feels as if your whole world is falling apart all around you. And it seems like you’re not the only one feeling this way. Uncle Luka looks… disheveled, which is a polite way to say that he looks like he hasn’t slept for a few days. The bags under his eyes are prominent against his pale skin, and his usually clean-shaven jaw is covered in light stubble. His sharp grey eyes are dulled from crying and you understand… The guilt he must’ve felt. You’ve been wrecked emotionally with the same guilt ever since Sasha’s death and you don’t think it will ever stop; it will haunt you for the rest of your life.

Side Story #2 Snippet

This one's also written in Ash's POV and it's a POV shift on the fight with Ronald and the bullies in Chapter 1. Yeah, it is kinda Ash's month, I suppose 😆

Not wasting another second, you quickly open your backpack and shove your notebook, textbook, and your few pens and pencils in haphazardly. The teacher says something about homework over the weekend, but you couldn’t care less about it and you make your way to the door without so much as a backward glance. Slinging your backpack on one shoulder, you swiftly stride towards Sasha’s classroom. You have memorized their schedule and you’ve done this for as long as you can remember. As you arrive, you take a quick peek through the little window on the door and immediately, your eyes snap to the familiar locks of hair. You’ve come to know them so well that not only could you identify them from behind easily, but you could also picture their face clearly in your head even in sleep. That’s totally normal, right? Knowing someone like the back of your own hand is only natural when you’ve spent most of your waking hours with them.

Spicy Side Story Snippet

The pairing that won for the month is Male Rin x Female MC and it features naughty activities in the kitchen 😏

And lastly, you grab three eggs from the egg carton. But before you can even start breaking the first egg, you feel a pair of hands seizing your hips from behind, making you yelp in surprise. Rin chuckles lowly as he leans in and sets his chin on your shoulder. “You should’ve woken me up,” he says. “I could’ve helped.” “That would’ve defeated the whole purpose; this is supposed to be a little surprise, you know? But I suppose it’s not anymore,” you sigh. He hums against the nape of your neck and plants a soft kiss that causes shivers down your spine. “It’s so sweet of you. Now, let me repay you.” “Repay?” you croak out. “I haven’t even finished—” You’re cut off as you feel his soft hands roam under the apron and move up...

[blackwolfstabs]

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 16

LAUGHTER

Sam has been in a bad mood all day, and Tara handles it. She's not mean, she's just a younger sister.

a.n. mentions tickling (if you don't like it, i don't need to hear about it. i respectfully ask that you kindly move on.)

“Alright, T, the chicken’s in the oven!” Mindy announced down the hall and pulled out her phone to set a timer. “It’ll be about 25 minutes.”

From inside her room, Tara hollered back, “‘Kay! I’ll be in there to start the rice in a minute!”

It was Friday night again, that one night of the week when the Carpenter sisters, Meeks-Martin twins, and Danny got together to do dinner and a movie night. They started that “tradition” a couple weeks after Mindy and Chad had gotten home from the hospital. It was held in celebration of making it to the weekend. The college students didn’t have to worry about waking up early, or homework, or due dates for two whole days, and that was something worth kicking-off with a chill night. 

It usually went something like this: the night was held at the Carpenters’ apartment every week. It typically started at 5:00 PM, because that was when Mindy and Chad tended to show up. Then, a couple, few, or more would make dinner, and they’d sit down at the table and eat, while talking about anything and everything—venting about the week, celebrating the highs and lows, or just nonsense—until everybody was done. Lastly, came the movie. Usually, the decision on what to watch was rotated between Tara, Mindy, and Chad, because Sam and Danny couldn’t care less—and of course, they were teased for being older, so they were probably too tired to care. 

However, they enjoyed it, nonetheless, and always managed to make it happen, no matter what. Tonight, dinner was on Mindy and Tara, and they agreed to make orange chicken.

Tara weaved her way from her bedroom and into the kitchen, where she pulled a pot out from the cabinet and took it to the sink. As she turned the handle to begin filling it up, there was a knock at the door.

From one of the living room chairs, Chad yelled, “It’s open!” And once the newcomer entered, he dropped back down to casual. “How’s it going, Danny?”

“Fine,” Danny replied, then was greeted by the other two in the room.

“What’s up?” Mindy called from the table, while Tara’s voice came from the sink.

“You’re late!” But then she stuck her head out from behind the wall, “No, I’m just playing, you’re good.” She went back to the sink, voice following as she did so, “It’s orange chicken tonight! We have to keep it fancy on Fridays.”

“We love to keep it fancy!” Mindy emphasized.

“Fancy Fridays!” the other put a name on it.

“Fancy Fridays!” she repeated.

And then Chad had to add, “Fancy Fridays with the Core Four Plus More!”

As the three cheered in agreement, Danny glanced around. They were missing one member of the said Core Four. “Where’s Sam?” he asked, while taking a seat in the chair that wasn’t occupied.

“She’s in the shower,” the younger male answered. And before he could explain any further, Tara took over.

“Yeah, and, full disclosure, she’s been in a bad mood all day long.” She set the now-full pot on the stove and left it to boil, while she made her way out of the kitchen to continue her warning. “I don’t know if you’ve talked to her, but…”

Danny shook his head, turning himself so he could look at her. “No, I haven’t. Is something going on with her?”

But Tara just shrugged, “Just tired. She overslept this morning, and I had to wake her up, which she did not like. And then, because she overslept, she had a bad headache. I texted her in class, later on, and she said her head had stopped hurting, but her attitude hasn’t changed. Usually, she’s just very quiet when she’s tired, but she’s been really irritable today.” She gestured to both of the twins, “And it’s not just me. She snapped at Chad and Mindy, too, before she went to take a shower.”

The other glanced from Tara to Mindy. “Is it that time? You know… of the month?” He was sure Chad was used to the subject, given his considered family was primarily made up of girls, but he always felt out of place mentioning it.

“No, that’s not for another two weeks,” the younger Carpenter replied casually, unfazed to exploit that kind of information that may or may not be sensitive.

Mindy made her way to the right end of the couch, “If she was upset about something serious, we’d be the first to know.” Then she shrugged, “She’s just grumpy, because it’s America, and she can be. 1st Amendment people!”

“1st Amendment, my ass,” Tara retorted, “This is the day of the week we always celebrate for surviving another fucking week!” She put one finger up to make a point, throwing it towards Sam’s shut bedroom door. “And she’s gonna be happy about it, whether she likes it or not. I’m calling it.” She went on to vow, “I’m gonna get her. I don’t know how, but she’s gonna get it.”

Chad scoffed, “Yeah, good luck with that. I’m staying out of it. Sam’s kinda scary when she’s mad, and I’m trying to live to see tomorrow.”

But his girlfriend rolled her eyes. “Come on, Chad. She’s not mad, she’s annoyed. And for someone who’s a sibling, you should know there’s nothing sweeter and more satisfying than annoying your sibling.” A mischievous smile pulled at her lips, and her eyebrows raised in unison to hint at some sort of younger-sibling antic that she had yet to figure out.

However, Danny, being the gentleman he was, tried to veer that plan of action off its train of formulation. “I don’t know, maybe she’ll feel better after having taken a shower.”

“Bet!” Chad nodded in agreement. “We’re gonna hope for that.”

His sister gave them a look and clicked her tongue, “Y’all are no fun…”

Tara had already gone back to the kitchen, leaving the rest to the passing time as she checked on the water. And it wasn’t long at all before the door at the end of the hallway opened.

Sam came out into the living room without saying a word. The only person she acknowledged was Danny, who got up to greet her. She stopped in front of him when he came up, managing a slight smile that was more of a failed attempt at one. 

However, he took it anyway and leaned over to kiss her cheek, the scent of shampoo strong off her hair. When he met her eyes again, he asked, “Are you okay?”

She nodded but looked away as if it had been the thousandth time she had been asked that today. “Yeah, fine.” She looked back at him with a quick shrug, “I’m just tired.”

“Okay.” He backed away so she could continue on to where she was going, instantly detecting the irritability in her voice. It didn’t offend him, but as he watched her make way to the left end of the sofa, he found Mindy giving him an I-told-you-so look.

Meanwhile, Sam bent one leg beneath her as she sat down and brought the other one up off the floor, centering her focus on her phone.

“Feel better after your shower, Sam?” the girl to her left quizzed.

She didn’t look up from the screen. “Mm. More or less.”

The dryness in her voice was so neon against the laid-back behavior of the others, it made Mindy roll her eyes. “Oh, come on, Sam! Tonight’s supposed to be fun. Lighten up,” she told her.

This made her look up and shrug. “I said, I was fine,” she insisted. She had tried to make her voice sound lighter, but it didn’t come across that well. 

“I know, but like… just relax! Smile. Have some fun,” Mindy encouraged. “I know you’re tired, but the night is here! It’s just us having a good time.” But when Sam unleashed a sigh and looked back down, she took it a step further. “Your boyfriend would like to see you smile, right, Danny?” she put her hand out towards the appointed being. “He hasn’t seen you all day. He shouldn’t be punished by his girlfriend’s bad attitude.” 

“I don’t have a bad attitude!” Samantha snapped. “I’m just tired. I told him that, and I told all of you that.”

“Okay, so? We’re tired too. College ain’t easy, sister,” her friend countered with her smart mouth. “But the Core-Fuckin’-Four Plus One-Fuckin’-More wants to have a good night, and for that, we need smiles all around.” When she was answered with a wry scoff and a roll of the other’s eyes, she pressed, “Come on! Even if you have to fake-it ‘til you make it, I’ll let it slide tonight.”

The older Carpenter just sighed and stared at her, which made her bring Danny into it again. “Please? For him?” Her tone fluctuated in a sing-song voice, “He thinks it’s beautiful~”

“You know, trying to force me is only making me not want to, even more,” she retorted.

Now, Brackett jumped in, “Mindy, just leave her be.”

But—with Mindy being Mindy—leaving shit be without proper intervention wasn’t acceptable. She completely understood how Sam being tired and having headaches would leave her in a bad mood all day. That happened to everyone all the time, but this wasn’t just about that night… She wanted to see how far she could push her. She knew when enough was enough, but she and Tara both had a thing about persistence, and damn, did that give them a sterling charm. “Nope!” And that’s exactly who she’d bring into it. “Tara! Sam’s being a major drip!”

“Mindy…” Sam groaned. “Seriously?”

“You asked for it.”

“Snitch,” Chad accused his sister.

“Shut up,” was her reply.

Tara came out of the kitchen, immediately going behind her sister and leaning over the couch to rest her chin on top of her head. “Why are you being such a loser, Sammy?”

“I’m not! All I said was that I was tired! Why is that such a problem?” 

She crossed her arms in front of her chest to hold her there. “All we’re asking is for you to actually try and enjoy the night. We just want you to be happy.” She was quiet for a brief moment before she jumped to statistics. “You know, my professor said that smiling is proven to decrease stress and release endorphins. So, Mindy’s got a point.”

“And if smiling sounds even more tiring?” Sam countered as she looked to her right, where Tara leaned over, so they could look at each other.

“Hmm…” her younger sister pondered for a moment, then came back with, “Well, I’m tired and yet—” She cut herself off to give a big smile that reminded them both of when they were little—how she would always smile like that to make her older sister do the same on a bad day. Then she relaxed. “Smiling isn’t that hard? Remember when I used to be able to make you smile just by doing it, myself?”

This actually made the other feel the starting upturn of her lips, but she looked away, feeling awkward about it. 

But Tara caught it. “Perfect,” she enthused, “More of that, okay?” But she didn’t get any sign of a reply. “Okaaay?” Still nothing as her sister kept staring at her phone, but she knew she was getting somewhere just by noticing her avoiding eye contact. “Sam? Sammy?” She nudged her a little, still clinging to her. 

Sam just shook her head in a ‘you’re ridiculous’ way.

Then, she took it to a more playful level, pulling her close and whispering into her ear. “You can’t ignore me.” She knew she couldn’t stand it when she’d whisper directly into her ear like that.

And that still showed to be true as her big sister cringed immediately, jerking her shoulder up and tilting her head as she tried to pull away. However, it had managed to prompt a smile from her as she shook her head like a dog in trying to get rid of the feeling of Tara’s breath teasing her ear.

That made a light bulb go off in Tara’s head, and she kept her hold on her captive as she looked up to Danny. “Hey, Danny,” she grabbed his attention with a spark of mischief in her eye, “If you didn’t know, your girlfriend’s ticklish.” She didn’t spare a second as she went on to prove the statement, the current placement of her arms allowing her fingers easy access to the older’s torso. 

Samantha bit back the spontaneous urge to laugh, instinctively moving to block her. “T-Tara!” 

“What?” Her sister didn’t let up as she took the upper hand. She dodged the defensive arms by removing her own from draping over her shoulders and slipping behind her. “I thought you were ignoring me,” she teased, now targeting her open sides.

The victim yelped, losing her balance in her uneven sitting position and faltering to lean into the arm of the sofa. Doing so had the feathering on her corresponding flank disappear and travel to her neck instead.

“You can’t ignore me, Sammy!” Tara crowed, hearing her sibling’s snickers start to turn into giggles. Every move Sam made, she made her own better, moving her small hands faster than she could react. But she was winning, nevertheless. Well… technically she’d already won. 

The other was well aware that everyone was watching a weakness become an advantage, and that made her entire body run hot with embarrassment. She and Tara grew up driving each other mad—the way siblings typically did—so they knew the exact places to hit. But it felt childish and made her feel very vulnerable in this moment, especially under a reputation as strict as her own. By now, she had been forced into an awkward lying position, pulling her knees up and hugging her torso to keep from being assaulted any more. But it was to no avail. “Sta-haah—” was all she could get out before she broke off into a silent laugh. Tara was targeting her neck with one hand, while the other went from her ribs to the slip of exposed skin that had been revealed from her cropped tank top, and then to wherever else she could harness. Her voice only came out as a wheeze as she managed, “Stop!”

But Tara wasn’t done playing her cards. “I’m sorry, what?” She acted innocent. “I can’t hear you.” She may seem a bit mean for doing this, considering she would pass the opportunity for it to be her on the wrong side of the gun, but it had been forever since she’d heard her sister laugh. Literally, she couldn’t remember the last time she genuinely laughed, and she had forgotten how it sounded. If she were honest, it was healing to see her get back in-touch with her youthful side. “Maybe stop laughing real quick so I can understand you?”

“Taraaa-ha-ha!”

“Listening!” she replied.

From the other end of the couch, Mindy decided to tag-team with the younger Carpenter. “Hang on, Tara, let me help you out.” She grabbed Sam’s ankle and pulled it to straighten her knee, allowing more access to the owner’s expense. “Now, get her.”

The underdog found her voice, giving a small whine as she was ganged-up on. “No-ho! Mindyyy!” This alteration left the majority of her lower abdomen exposed, which was gladly taken advantage of, drowning her into another laughing fit.

Over yonder, Chad and Danny exchanged glances, before Chad backed Sam up for both of them, “Come on, guys, now that’s just mean.” 

Tara shrugged, retorting, “She was mean first.” Beneath her, Sam bucked and twisted to face the back of the sofa, trying to pull her ankle out of Mindy’s grip. “This is her problem.”

Finally, her sister got some air in her lungs. “Okay! Oka-ha-hay, stop!” she barked, “I got it!”

But she was ignored as Mindy took it upon herself to skitter her own sly nails up her leg. “Tickle, tickle!”

Samantha went deathly hot in embarrassment upon hearing this, but she couldn’t break her instinctive temptation as she yelped. “Mindy, stop it!”

“Can we get a ‘please’, Sammy?” her little sister above quizzed, snaking her fingertips beneath her arms.

But before the other could deliver that desire, Chad took matters into his own hands. “Okay, you know what? That’s it.” He got up from his chair and went straight to Tara, scooping her up in his arms. “You’re going in Air Jail!” He pulled her away from the sofa. “Hey, feel free to give Mindy a smack to the head,” he called to Danny.

“Hey!” Tara fidgeted in her boyfriend’s hold. “Chaaad… you ruined it!”

“No, I don’t wanna hear it. You leave Sam alone,” he scolded and carried her to the kitchen. “You get back to making the rice, you little ankle-biter.”

With the initial instigator having been taken away, Mindy backed off too without any intervention, releasing her friend’s ankle and going back to her business with a smirk. “Wow, Sam…” she began, crossing one leg over the other to view the owner of the name panting as she recovered from the onslaught. “I didn’t know you were that ticklish.”

The older Carpenter ignored her as she pushed herself up from her lying position, tugging the hem of her black top down and pulling her legs closer to her body. She sighed a recovering sigh and pulled her long hair back with her fingers, before glancing over her shoulder to Mindy. “Don’t ever do that again,” she warned.

“No, I know.”

“I’m serious.”

“I won’t.”

But the smile the female twin wore wasn’t convincing in the slightest. She was like a fox; she had a million things up her sleeve. But when it came to her family, she meant them in the best way.

From his place, Danny watched his girlfriend resituate herself to her former position, shaking her head to let her hair fall back into its natural placement. “Are you alright, baby?” He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he had to agree with Mindy about not expecting the reaction given to be given. There was a first time for everything, but it put pieces from other reactions together. He figured her secret sensitivity was probably why she flinched when he kissed her neck, or shifted when he stroked her side, or tensed when he squeezed her thigh. However, he couldn’t say he didn’t take pleasure in seeing her smile or hearing her laugh, even if it was at Tara’s unruly persistence.

Samantha nodded but avoided making any eye contact. “Yeah, fine.” She leaned her head into her hand as she revisited her phone, her face still red from embarrassment. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at her 2nd tormentor. “Happy now?”

She gave an approving nod. “Yep. Now, cut the attitude, miss ma’am.”

The older just shook her head. “You give me a headache,” she accused, earning a chuckle from across the couch.

Chad’s voice came from the kitchen. “Mindy, come make yourself useful and check the chicken!”

And surprisingly, his sister obeyed, purposefully taking the long way around to give Sam’s head a good-dog-like pat on the head. “Love ya,” she promised as she rounded the sofa.

“Mm-hmm,” was the hummed reply. After she’d disappeared into the kitchen, Sam sighed, hesitant to raise her gaze to meet Danny’s, which she knew was on her. However, they were the only ones in the living room at the moment, so she did.

He smiled at her. “I guess it’s true that you learn something new every day, huh?” 

“That depends on who you ask.”

“Maybe I should talk with your sister more often?” he teased, which made her roll her eyes and pull a smile.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she warned, “You can do your homework, but I bite more than I bark.”

He nodded with a chuckle, “Yeah, that’s true.”

Carpenter tilted her head in that gesturing way she was known for, before resuming focus. It was safe to say that she was even more tired than she had been a few minutes ago, thanks to Tara and Mindy’s shenanigans, but she had to admit, she didn’t feel as aggressive. Maybe it was from the adrenaline. Maybe it was the forced change in behavior, which was more like a punishment, if you asked her. Or maybe it was simply what her little sister had stated: smiling decreased stress and increased endorphins released by the brain.

Maybe the exact thing she wouldn’t spare was the exact thing she needed. Of course… there were different ways they could’ve done it.

reeeeeeee idk how i feel about this one, but i think that's just me being anxious af about being judged 🫣 i have reasons for writing everything i do, so this wasn't me regurgitating something thoughtless, i promise.

all i'm gonna say is that i've grown up with younger siblings and have witnessed the playful dynamics between other siblings as well.

All my love and my best! ♡ - parker

[lyssismagical]

we'll all be here forever

tw mention for dying/death, not quite suicidal ideation or purposeful self-harm but not taking care of yourself; panic attacks, small emetophobia, lotsa fighting and swearing

(pls pls pls be so nice and gentle I haven't written anything in like 3 years and idk if this fandom is even alive anymore but I found a WIP and had the inspiration to finish it)

read on ao3

The decline began when his principal mentioned, in passing, that Peter’s applications would look bare compared to a lot of applicants with his lack of extra-curriculars. Sure, he had Academic Decathlon and a Tony Stark Internship, but otherwise, that space of his college applications was empty.

So, he took the initiative in his Senior year to join a few extra clubs to bulk up his application. He started a campaign for student class president, joined the robotics club, and got on the football team. As well as all that, he started tutoring during his lunch hours both for volunteer hours and as an addition to his applications.

He needed to get into MIT. He didn’t think he could deal with any disappointment from anybody around him. Tony’s been talking about Peter’s future at SI after graduating MIT, May’s already preparing to sell the apartment and buy herself a smaller condo when he moves out, Ben always said Peter had to go to a school that challenged him like MIT would.

He wouldn’t let them down.

So he continued to squish his schedule as tight as he possibly could. AP classes, homework, four extra-curriculars, tutoring, Spider-Man, and the internship started leaving no time for himself. Sleeping at night started getting cut shorter and shorter, and he could barely make time to talk to his friends or May.

Tony notices first because he’s always been a genius and way too observant for his own good, so when Peter slides into his seat in the lab, dragging a hand through his hair, and tossing a couple textbooks in front of him, Tony almost immediately grabs his shoulder and stops him.

“You okay, kid? You look a little rough?” Tony says, eyes already narrowed in suspicion. One hand cups Peter’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

“Just been busy.” Peter looks towards his homework. English, physics, biology, spanish, chemistry, history, the academic decathlon practice he’s supposed to go over, the speech he’s supposed to have done for the next debate for student class president.

Tony frowns, making his forehead crease. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, kid. This doesn’t just look like regular high school stress.”

“High school student slash superhero is more accurate.”

His watch continues ticking, the conversation wasting all of his precious time.

He needs to get his homework done during lab time so he can squeeze in some Spider-Manning before May gets home from her shift.

“Still,” Tony says petulantly. He crosses his arms and frowns at the work. “You can’t, I don’t know, take a break from all this shit?”

If Peter takes a break, he’ll have double as much to do the next day on top of football practice after school and robotics club after that. But he can’t say that or Tony would force him to drop some of his extra-curriculars.

“Pepper would kill you if she found out you were being a bad influence on me,” Peter says, but when it doesn’t get the reaction he wanted, he frowns and shakes his head. “I’m fine, Mister Stark, just a little tired. Don’t worry, the weekend’s coming up soon.”

Tony sighs overdramatically and moves back to his lab bench.

Peter purposefully fails to mention that he’s got a football game early morning on Saturday, enough time to squish in some patrolling before he has an Academic Decathlon meet at Ned’s house all afternoon, and enough homework to last him all night. And on Sunday, he has to finish his speech for the debate, he promised May he’d pick up his slack with chores, and he’s tutoring a freshman in math all afternoon.

He fails to mention that for him, the weekend doesn’t mean relaxation or a break from the stress of the week, it just means catch-up from everything he failed to do during the week and a time to pick up his slack.

* There’s something so fundamentally wrong about being beyond exhausted and yet, when given the chance, unable to get any real rest.

Peter’s brain is always moving too fast, always caught in the To Do List’s and the ideas of failure and disappointment if he doesn’t complete every task. Everything he could’ve done that day but hadn’t, all the things he did but could’ve done better, all the things that were pushed to the backburner with all the things he had to complete.

His eyes are closed and his breaths are even, room dark around him and quiet except for the TV that plays almost silently in the background. He’s comfortable and vaguely floating, not enough to be considered asleep but nowhere near conscious either.

Math homework sits only half complete on the coffee table, his academic decathlon cue cards are mixed with his debate notes on the floor, his history textbook is left open on the opposite couch.

He should’ve done more. He should be trying harder. He should be doing better.

No matter how hard he tries, no matter how much work he puts into everything he does, it’ll never be enough.

He can’t sleep, he got a B- on his last pop quiz in chemistry, Coach Wilson shouts at him every practice for his clumsy feet and his slow pace during warmups, Tony’s been staring at him with the same worried expression every time he goes over for lab days.

Even Flash has been worried about Peter.

“You okay, Parker?” Flash had sounded at least partially concerned before quickly tacking on, “Because I get your spot on Acadeca if you’re slacking.”

But it had been weeks since Flash had been mean to Peter, he hadn’t been tripping Peter in the hallways or spitting cruel words at him in class.

If Flash is being nice to Peter, that means there’s really a problem.

May slips into the living room, meaning it’s already three am, when she leaves for her occasional morning shifts at the hospital. She lifts the quilt off the back of the couch to drape over him.

“Have a good day at work,” Peter slurs, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“Have a good day at school, honey.” She leans down and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “And thank you for helping out this weekend with chores. I’m really proud of you, you know that? And I’m really proud of you for your football game. I’ll see you tonight?”

Peter has to think for too long, scanning through his mental to do list. “Got football practice and then robotics till seven. And I said I’d walk MJ home first so I’ll only be home at nine or ten.”

“Michelle’s the opposite direction of here from school, isn’t she?”

“Mm,” Peter replies intelligently, the perfect image of a genius student planning on applying to MIT.

May kisses his forehead again. He knows she’s worried about him, he knows she wants to tell him to stop, or at least slow down, that he needs to take care of himself. But it’s not the time nor place for an argument like that. “Well, I’ll be asleep by the time you get back, but I’ll leave your dinner in the microwave. You’re too good, Peter.”

Peter barely manages to utter a goodbye and an I love you before his mouth stops working again, content to pretend to sleep for another two hours before he’s off to pick up MJ before school. She lives in a shadier part of town and she mentioned, quiet and more honest about herself than she normally is, that she gets nervous walking to school and back because of some people who have been trying to get her attention.

Without hesitation, Peter had offered to walk to and from school from now on. To keep her safe and comfortable. He is a superhero after all.

Just because that adds an extra hour and a half to his already hour-long trek to Midtown, doesn’t mean anything. He’s okay with waking up at five in the morning to get to school, and he’s okay with only making it home late after practices. If it means MJ’s safe, he’ll give up another chunk of his sleeping time for her.

MJ talks idly about academic decathlon for the majority of the long walk to school.

She keeps a hand firmly on his upper arm, as though scared he may keel over if she isn’t careful. Her eyes rarely leave his face, even if he barely offers any facial expressions let alone any words of wisdom. Easily, though, he answers every one of her decathlon practice questions from memory, proving that the sleeplessness and the stress hasn’t totally messed up his intelligence.

Or so he thinks.

He’s about to leave his history class when his teacher stops him.

She’s a nice woman who doesn’t assign a crazy amount of homework, no more than his other classes do, and she’s generally lenient with marking assignments. He wracks his head for any reason why she would stop him. He’s pretty positive he handed in his history assignment about one of the presidents at the end of the previous week, and he remembers being pretty confident in his answers to the pop quiz.

“Sit down for a second,” Miss Christie says, gesturing to the chair beside her desk. She has the decency to look sympathetic and confused when she tells him, “Your grades have dropped drastically since midterm, Peter.”

“What?” His brain’s moving a bit too slow through the sludge of his to do lists.

At midterm, he managed an eighty-eight on his test which brought his overall grade up to an eighty-five. Not his best grade, but certainly nowhere near worrying. He was just going to make sure to ace the exam, and he was sure he’d get a ninety out of the class.

“Your grade has gone from nearly a ninety down to barely passing, Peter,” Miss Christie explains, pulling open his file on the computer. “I normally wouldn’t worry too much about a sixty-five, it’s not too abnormal for lower grades in a history class for a STEM school, but this is concerning coming from a bright student like you.”

“I don’t understand.”

Miss Christie frowns, turning her monitor towards him and zooming into his grades. It shows all his assignments he’s submitted, all his grades slipping towards mid-fifties and lower. His pop quiz he only managed a thirty percent on.

“At this school, as you know, if you don’t make a sixty or higher for your final grade, you fail the class.”

Peter’s whole world feels like it’s crashing down around him.

“Now, I know how much potential you have, Peter, but I’ve taken a peek at the last assignment you submitted, and at this rate, you won’t be passing the class unless you put more effort in.”

More effort.

He doesn’t know where he has the time for more effort anywhere.

May’s going to kill him.

He might as well throw his MIT application down the drain if he fails history.

“I, uh, it’s just- Between my classes and my extra-curriculars and the internship, I just- I don’t have the time for much,” Peter admits. He’s not quite sure why he’s alright admitting his struggles to his history teacher and not to people like Tony or Ned or May, but the words fall from his tired mouth before he can stop them.

Miss Christie smiles like she understands his struggle. “I can give you another week to finish your last history project and I’ll assign an extra-credit assignment to get your grade up a little more, if that’s what you’d like. If all goes well with those two projects, future assignments, and your exam, I think you could pull off an eighty, Peter. Hope’s not lost.”

He doesn’t know how to tell her he doesn’t have time for two more big projects this week.

Football practices are longer because they have another game on Sunday, Academic Decathlon is getting harder because they have sectionals coming up, robotics club has a tournament in a few weeks so they need to put extra work into completing their robots, student class president debates are in a few days and then voting is coming up, he agreed to take on a project from the real Stark interns who need his help with their prototype, not to mention his actual homework.

“I just- Miss Christie, I need a good grade for college applications and I- My schedule is already as packed as possible, is there anyway I can get an extension-”

“I can’t start making exceptions for students, Peter. I’m already being generous by giving you more time for the first project.”

Peter swallows thickly, suddenly feeling very nauseas and dizzy. “Of course, Miss Christie. Thank you.”

He barely lets her finish giving her spiel on hard work equals good results before he races down the hallway towards the bathroom.

*

“You can’t tell May or Tony about this,” he begs, slumping against the wall, trying desperately to stop crying.

“Peter, this isn’t okay,” Ned says. His eyes are too wide and he looks shakier than Peter feels. He’s got a wad of damp paper towel and gently pats the sweat from Peter’s forehead.

MJ’s leaning against the sinks despite it being a boy’s bathroom. “Are you sick? Catch a stomach bug?”

“Panic attack.”

Apparently, that’s not the right answer because Ned cups Peter’s cheek and tips his head up, patting away his sweat and tears more insistently.

“I’m late for- for-” Peter’s vision swims as he stares at the watch, unable to comprehend the ticking hands or match it to his mental to do list.

“Tutoring. It’s lunch,” MJ supplies. She steps into the already-cramped stall and slides to the floor beside Peter. “Don’t worry, Flash is taking over for you. That kid already knows all she needs to know, though. She doesn’t really need Flash’s help.”

“We can’t hide this from May or Tony. You need help, Peter.” Ned finally gives up with the paper towel but his eyes are just as wide as he grabs Peter’s hand, hanging on to him.

Peter shrugs, eyeing MJ carefully before he lets his head fall on her shoulder. He closes his eyes, shutting himself off from further argument.

Nothing’s right.

The three friends are cramped together in a bathroom stall because Peter can’t hold himself together, because no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be enough.

He doesn’t say any of that, all the words getting clogged in his chest where all his self-loathing and pain sits. Instead, he murmurs a soft apology and lets his eyes fall shut.

Eventually, they have to drag themselves off the bathroom floor for class.

Ned rambles about how Peter should see the school nurse and go home for the rest of the day, and Peter makes up excuses about how he’s fine just a little stressed, how he’ll make sure to take the night easy and get some good rest and be back to normal by the next morning.

Even MJ tries to convince him to sit out of chemistry, even though Peter’s grade has dropped in that class too, even just to lie down in the nurse’s office for an hour.

But Peter throws on the most convincing smile he can muster and shakes his head, promising them that he’s fine.

And they trust him enough to take his word for it.

Maybe that’s a mistake.

*

May’s asleep by the time he gets home, so he grabs some money from his secret stash he’s been saving from some of the paid tutoring he’s been doing and grabs himself a few energy drinks from the bodega a block away.

And then he sets himself up at his desk with all the work he has to do laid out in front of him.

He was in for another long night.

*

It’s not like he has the option to stop.

It’s not that simple, it’s never been. Failing, at this point, would be the worst thing he’s ever done. The list of people he’d be letting down is too long, too many, he can’t do that. He can’t let down his loved ones like Tony and May, Ben, Mary and Richard, Pepper and the Avengers, his teachers, his friends, himself. He can’t do that.

Everything is resting on this.

May won’t be able to move out of the city, she’ll have to continue taking care of him when he’s unable to move, she’ll have to keep working to take care of him, she’ll have to keep worrying about him every night he goes out patrolling. He’ll continue dragging her down.

Tony and Pepper won’t be able to retire.

He’s heard them talking about that dream they have. The cabin, far away from everyone and everything, maybe a child down the line, a child of their own, not just some orphan kid they got saddled with. The garden, the lake, the pet, the baby, the ability to give up all the things tethering them down. Peter’s meant to take over SI when he graduates MIT. There’s never been an If with them. Like they couldn’t even imagine a world where Peter couldn’t do it.

Letting them down now?

He’d lose his second family. He’d lose Tony and Pepper, he’d lose his ties to the Avengers. How could he be Tony Stark’s prodigy if he couldn’t even get into MIT?

He has to work harder.

He has to do more.

He has to be better.

 He has to.

*

MJ puts a hand on his knee in English class, everything between now and then is a confusing blur, but he’s suddenly grounded.

“You’ve been shaking all class,” she says. Her eyes are wide and worried, and she doesn’t take her hand off his leg. “When was the last time you slept?”

He takes another sip from his water bottle, filled with an energy drink. It makes his knee bounce under MJ’s hand. He tries to shake away how cloudy his mind is, trying to focus on what the teacher’s droning on about.

“Hey,” MJ says, elbowing him to get his attention. “If you don’t sleep at night, you’re never going to be able to focus.”

“I slept fine,” he snaps, pushing her hand off his leg.

The teacher’s talking about Shakespeare, going over the play they were asked to read earlier on. He knows it like the back of his hand, so it doesn’t matter that he zoned out for most of class.

“Don’t be a dick when I’m just trying to help.”

He shakes his head again, one hand lifting to tug at his hair, pain clearing a little bit of the fog.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds panicked, even to his own ears. He’s been fucking everything up, everywhere he goes, but he can’t lose his friends, he can’t fuck this up.

“It’s fine, dude, just…” She looks towards the teacher, who hasn’t seemed to notice their distraction, and slides her notebook across to him. She’s drawn a few sketches of him, all of which picture him with dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking up every which way, and movement lines around his legs and fingers. There are some notes on Shakespeare between the sketches and some absent thoughts in the margins.

Peter doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m worried, okay?” she says so genuine that it hurts his chest. She reaches out to touch his leg again, seeming to understand how much the small gesture helps. “I know you’re stressed about college applications, but you’re falling apart, and I don’t know how much longer I can just watch you do that to yourself.”

“I have to get into MIT.”

“You have Tony Stark willing to write you a letter of recommendation, all this other stuff, football and student council, it’s not necessary. All it’s doing is destroying you.”

Peter’s voice drops to below a whisper. “I don’t want a stupid accident to be the reason I get in.”

“Accident?”

“Spider-Man! I can’t have… It’s unfair. I’ll spend my whole life wondering if it was just a fluke.”

“How is that a fluke?”

“I wandered off on a field trip and got bit by an experiment. I should be dead. It’s a complete fluke that I am who I am.”

“It’s not a fluke that Tony’s kept you around,” she argues. Her nails are digging into his leg a little, pressing the fabric of his jeans into his skin. Her voice almost raises, but she catches herself and glances back towards the teacher before whispering, “For a genius, you’re acting really fucking stupid.”

Peter takes a shuddering breath. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“It’s not. You know it’s not. You’re killing yourself for no good reason.”

“MJ, Peter, your attention please,” the teacher says. They both apologize quickly, and MJ sends him a look that says this isn’t over.

*

MJ practically drags him by the ear to the nearest bathroom once class is let out.

“You know I’ve got super strength, right?” he says, though he doesn’t even think he could access it through his exhaustion anyway, not that he’d try. He’d let MJ drag him wherever she pleases.

MJ lets him go when they’re safely inside the single-person bathroom and leans back against the sink, staring him down.

“If you’re going to reprimand me, can we get it over with? I’ve got things to do, Em.”

“We’re waiting for Ned. He’s on his way.”

Peter rolls his eyes and huffs out a sigh. “So this isn’t a reprimand, it’s an intervention?”

“You should be grateful it’s only going to be me and Ned. I could’ve pulled some strings and had Stark and May yell at you too.”

Peter winces. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t if you stop acting like an idiot.”

There’s a knock on the door, a rhythmic sound, and MJ opens it to let Ned in. Ned’s face is flushed and his eyes are a little too wide, and anger sparks in Peter’s chest, setting off a red-hot forest fire through his body.

“Did Flash say something to you?”

Ned only gets like this, red-faced and wringing hands, when someone insults him.

“It’s fine, Peter,” Ned says quickly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter! I’m going to kill him. What did he say?”

MJ puts a hand on his shoulder, almost like she’s ready to hold him in place, like he’ll shake out of his own skin. “Easy tiger. Getting in a fight with Flash is the last thing you need to be worrying about.”

Peter looks to Ned who already seems to have calmed down at least a little. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, dude. I’m fine. Flash is always going to be Flash. It’s really okay… What’s important is you right now. What’s going on with you? When was the last time you slept?”

“I have to get into MIT.”

MJ rolls her eyes and pulls away from him. She smells like vanilla and it makes him dizzy. “He thinks the whole Spider-Man and Tony Stark internship is an unfair advantage he shouldn’t be able to use in order to get in.”

Ned’s jaw drops open and he looks absolutely flabbergasted at the idea. “That’s insane! Do you really think that?”

“As I told MJ, I wandered on a field trip and suddenly I have things that most people could only dream of having. It’s not fair that Tony Stark can write me a letter because I wandered on a field trip. I can’t use Spider-Man like I’m better than everyone else because I wandered on a field trip. It’s not fair.”

“Just because it was an accident that it happened doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve the benefits that come from it,” Ned says. “You could’ve gotten those powers and done nothing. Nobody is making you use your abilities for good. You save people’s lives, you do everything you can to keep Queens and Midtown safe. You spend hours everyday getting knives or worse pointed at you to keep those people safe. And it’s just some fluke? I don’t think so.”

Peter shakes his head, shutting his eyes when he feels tears burn at them. “It’s not that simple. I’m Spider-Man, but Spider-Man isn’t me. Spider-Man isn’t some poor kid from Queens who has one and a half friends and can’t keep his grade up in History. Spider-Man isn’t some teenager who dumpster dives and reads graphic novels. Spider-Man isn’t Peter Parker. And because Spider-Man isn’t Peter Parker, anything that Spider-Man has can’t be mine. The acclaim, the ties to the Avengers, the internship, those all belong to Spider-Man, not me.”

Neither of them seem to have an answer for him.

Ned’s looking at him like Peter’s a stranger, confused and uncertain.

MJ’s looking at him like she finally realizes he can’t be helped. He’s too far down to be fixed by a simple pep talk in the bathroom.

“It’s not fair for me to use Spider-Man or Mister Stark as leverage for university. So, in order to get in, I have to beef up my application. I need extra curriculars, good grades, AP classes, I need this stuff in order to get into MIT. I can’t stop.”

Ned shakes his head. His eyes are misty and his face is still red. “Sure, okay, but if you stack up your day to be full of extra curriculars and homework, you have to drop Spider-Man patrols and internship nights and tutoring for the money, you can’t do everything.”

“I have to do everything. I’m still Spider-Man, even if Spider-Man isn’t me. I have a responsibility to this city, to try as hard as I can to keep people safe. And I have a responsibility to Mister Stark to be a protegee, to be his heir, so that he can finally retire, both from Stark Industries and from Iron Man. I have a responsibility to May to make her proud. I have a responsibility to my parents, to Ben, to do something great like MIT. I have a responsibility to May to get scholarships so I don’t rely on her for money she doesn’t have. I… I don’t have a choice. I can’t just give up.”

“You’re going to kill yourself!” MJ says, voice loud, and Peter’s head pounds.

“I’m going to get in and I’m going to graduate and then I can stop. It’s only six months. I can survive six months of this.”

“At this rate, you’ll be dead in a week.” She sounds so angry, so upset with him, and god it hurts to feel like despite all the effort he’s put in, he’s still managing to let people down. “Do you have any idea what sleep deprivation does to a person? Especially someone who enjoys swinging around hundreds of feet in the sky and fighting people with guns.”

Peter looks to Ned, tries to see if maybe his best friend will understand, will, at the very least, take a different approach, but Ned just stares back, eyes wet and jaw clenched.

Peter’s breaths have gone shaky, chest aching with the lack of oxygen. “I can’t just stop, Em.”

“I’m not giving you a choice,” she grounds out. “This ends now.”

“I can’t stop,” he repeats, tears blurring his vision. He falls back against the wall, head thumping against the bricks.  “I can’t. It’ll look worse now if I was on the football team for two months before abruptly dropping out. Same for robotics or student council. Even if it’s for the betterment of my grades, it’ll still look bad on my application. I can’t stop seeing Mister Stark, he’ll know something’s up, he’ll try and convince me to stop working so hard, he’ll try and use his power to prove that I can get in even if I fail all my classes this term and that’s not fair. I can’t stop.”

MJ shakes her head. She’s made up her mind on this, and when MJ makes up her mind there’s no turning her around. “Then stop Spider-Manning. If you let yourself rest at night instead of swinging around Queens in spandex, maybe you could actually do everything else without falling apart.”

“If Spider-Man disappears, people will die. And it’ll be on me.”

“You can’t save everyone!” she shouts. Her fist hits the edge of the sink with an echoing thud. “And if you die, you won’t be able to save anyone.”

He can’t help but flinch, trying to shake his head, come up with anything, find an argument that makes sense, but he comes up blank, just failure ringing through his head.

“I can’t stop,” he repeats like it’ll make a difference.

Ned finally speaks up, “I’ll call May. I’ll tell her what you’ve been doing, how you’re failing history. How little sleep you’ve been getting. I’ll tell her.”

“And what’s she going to do,” Peter challenges. “Tie me to my bed? Force me to sleep? Take away the suit? Ground me? She’d have to invest in vibranium locks if she really wanted to keep me from going out.”

“You’re really going to fight all of us?” MJ says, disbelief and anger darkening her voice.

“I have to do this.”

“Well, I’m not going to stand by and watch.” She shakes her head at him, mouth set in a deep frown, and then she walks out of the bathroom and his life.

He looks at Ned, silently pleading for him to understand, and Ned stares back with wet eyes for a moment before turning away as well.

He’s left alone in that bathroom, ears ringing and head spinning and tears sliding down his cheeks, clinging to his jaw, lungs aching.

*

Is it possible to do this without his two best friends at his side? He isn’t sure but he’s convinced himself that there’s no going back now. The only way he’ll get them back is if he stops, and that’s not an option.

So it’ll just be him against the world. He can handle that. He has before.

It’ll all be worth it when he gets that shiny acceptance letter.

*

“Kid.”

Tony says it in a way that Peter instantly knows what’s happening. He’s sitting at the dining room table when Peter gets to the tower for Lab Night, hands crossed on the table, shoulders tight, mouth set in a firm line.

“I don’t need another fucking intervention.” He doesn’t know where the anger came from, seeping through the tired cracks. He’s pretty sure he’s never sworn at Tony before. He’s not surprised that MJ and Ned ratted on him, he knew they would after their fight in the bathroom, he just hoped Tony wouldn’t make a big deal of it.

Tony shakes his head, gesturing towards the pulled-out chair beside him, Peter doesn’t move from the hallway, just drops his backpack on the floor. “Kid.”

“If you’re going to lecture me, I’m going to pass. I have shit to do.” He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. There’s no filter left. All that’s left is hardened sharp edges and dark rings beneath his eyes and the ghost of who he was shaking its head at him.

“Peter-” Tony never calls him that, so Peter knows it’s serious. “-Please just come sit and we can talk about this. It’s not a lecture or- or an intervention, I just… I’m worried.”

He crosses his arms tight, curling into himself a little. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not, kid, and I’m sorry I let it slide for too long, I should’ve said something sooner, but I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“I’m fine,” Peter grounds out again. “And I have shit to do.”

Tony stands slowly, hands open and fingers spread like Peter’s a feral animal. “You’re working yourself to the bone. You’re going to get hurt.”

Peter stays quiet, staring Tony down. The older hero takes a step closer and Peter steps back, keeping space between them.

“I’ve looked at Karen’s reports, kid-”

“You’re still spying on me?”

“I’m checking in.”

“I should’ve disabled those stupid protocols months ago.”

Tony doesn’t meet Peter’s fire with fire, though, he just looks… aged. He looks more exhausted than Peter feels, wrinkles set deeper than Peter remembers, streaks of grey in his hair standing out in the moonlight. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m fine, okay? I haven’t been to medical in weeks.”

“You’ve been averaging two hours of sleep a night. Do you know what that’ll do to your reflexes? Your fighting abilities?”

“How many fucking times do I have to say I’m fine?” Peter’s voice has raised a little, not much but it still feels like it echoes off the walls of the dark hallway, it rattles inside his head.

Tony sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “You’re working too hard. You’re not sleeping, you’re drinking an obscene amount of caffeine, you’re not eating enough, you’re stressed, you’re lashing out. You know who you sound like?”

“Exactly. Who are you to judge?”

“I’ve learned from those mistakes, Pete. And I don’t want you to make them too. You’re going to get yourself killed patrolling or have a caffeine overdose or hurt yourself in the lab or burn bridges or turn to something worse than caffeine to get you through the day.”

“I’m not you!” Peter snaps. He can feel tears in his throat, voice threatening to break, hands shaking so he curls them into fists and stuffs them in his pockets. “I’m fine, okay? I can handle it.”

Tony shakes his head again, people have been doing that a lot lately when they talk to him. “I spoke to your principal, Peter.”

He flinches, taking another step back into the dark hallway. His breaths are coming too quick and a headache is beginning to form behind his eyes and Tony’s eyes are following him, tracking every movement that cements his points, and he looks so fucking sympathetic, so hurt.

“I’m going to fix it, okay? I have a few more days to perfect that history assignment and I’ll get the grade up by finals. It’s going to be fine. I can fix it.”

“It’s not just history, Peter.” Tony keeps saying his name and Peter hates how it’s grounding him to the conversation, stopping his swirling to-do lists in their place to hear Tony’s words. “It’s history and it’s chemistry and it’s calculus and it’s gym and your football coach says-”

“I can fix it!” Peter pleads, voice trembling. “I just need to try harder, I just need to put more effort in, I just- I just need to do more.”

Peter’s starting to feel claustrophobic in the hallway, images of Toomes and dust and darkness seeping into his eyesight.

“There’s nothing more you can give,” Tony says, gentle despite tearing down Peter’s world with just his words. “There’s not enough time in the world.”

“Fuck you,” Peter spits, he takes another step back. He points a shaking finger at Tony. “Fuck you. And fuck Ned for telling you. And fuck Coach for thinking I’m not good enough. And fuck MJ for switching me to an alternate. And fuck Miss Christie for not giving me a chance. And- and fuck Oscorp for making that fucking spider and putting these responsibilities on me. And fuck for parents for putting this pressure on me. And- And-”

“Kid.” And he sounds so genuine and pained and soft. And Peter fucking hates him.

“This, all of this, is your fucking fault. Yours, and May’s, and my parents, and Pepper’s, and Ben’s, and Ned’s. It’s on you.”

Tony, for his credit, just sighs softly and nods. “I know what it’s like to be under that kind of pressure. To have people make it seem like their future for you is the only one that matters, that you have these insane expectations to live up to and what you do will never be enough. But, kid, we’re all proud of you already. You don’t have to go to MIT for us to be proud. I can’t speak for your parents or for your uncle, but me and May and Pepper, we’d be proud if you went to community college. Hell, we’d be proud if you didn’t go to college at all. You don’t need MIT to have our approval, Peter. And we certainly don’t want you to kill yourself trying to get there.”

Peter shakes his head, tears beginning to curl down his cheeks, no doubt bright red already. “What about your future? I’ve heard you talk about it. You and Pepper and that- a kid, a kid who’s actually yours, retiring, giving up Iron Man and Stark Industries. You can’t do that if I go to a fucking community college.”

“We’ll figure it out. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” he shouts, unable to stop himself, voice wavering. He clenches his teeth so hard that his head starts to pound. “I can’t let everyone down.”

“And I’m not going to lose you, Peter.”

“I can do it!”

“Kid.” He sounds so pained, strained, desperate. “You’re going to go out patrolling on zero sleep, hopped up on too much caffeine, and you’re not going to be able to dodge that bullet. I’m going to get the red alert that you’re hurt and I’m going to be the one to find you bleeding out in some shoddy alley. And I’m not going to be able to save you. I’m going to have to hold you as you die. I’m going to have to show up at May’s door at an unforgivable hour and give her the news. Is that really what you want?”

There are images of that night in his peripherals. The black of the gun, the grey of Ben’s jacket, the red on the pavement, the gold of the police officer’s badge, the red on his hands, the brown of the apartment complex, the red on his jeans, the green of their apartment door, the brown of May’s hair, the red of her eyes, the red on his sweater, the red on his shoes.

“It’s not going to happen.”

“You can’t promise me that.”

“I can do it!” He’s crying, choked back sobs making his whole body tremble. “Why doesn’t anybody think I can do it? I have to- I can’t stop-”

Tony shakes his head again and again. “You’re going to get yourself killed, Peter.”

Peter doesn’t have the energy to stand anymore, pressing his back into the wall and sliding down it, knees pulling up to his chest. He curls into himself, as tight as he can, suddenly sobbing loudly into his knees.

“I can’t let everybody down. I can’t stop. I can’t give up,” he chokes out, pushing his hands into his hair and tugging until pain clouds his vision as much as his tears.

“I’ve made so many mistakes in my life, kid,” Tony says. “But I promised myself I wouldn’t let you become me. I swore after-” His voice breaks, guilt rushing into it. “After Toomes, that I wouldn’t make another mistake with you. So I can’t, I can’t let you do this.”

And Peter, he feels so small, so broken, so lost. “Are you going to take the suit?”

“If that’s what it takes to stop you from patrolling on no sleep, then yes, I have to.”

He bites his lip to stop the noise of despair from escaping him, metallic blood filling his mouth. He grabs his backpack from where he left it when all this started and throws it at Tony, too much superstrength behind his throw when it hits Tony in the chest with a solid noise.

“I wouldn’t have to if you dropped those extra-curriculars, Peter, or let me help with homework, or stopped tutoring or something. If I thought you could still be safe out there.” And he does sound genuinely guilty.

“Leave me alone.” He means to say it angrily, means to shout it from deep in his lungs, means to make it hurt, means to throw it like a dagger, but it just comes out small, weak, childish.

“Kid-”

“Please,” he says, looking up from his knees to meet Tony’s empathy with red eyes and wet eyelashes and a hoarse voice, to meet him with emptiness. “Leave me alone.”

Tony swallows loud enough for Peter to hear even through the rushing in his ears and then nods slowly. “Okay, kid. You know where to find me. And just so you know, I’m not doing this to be malicious. Everything I do is for you.”

“Go away.”

And he’s left alone. MJ, Ned, and now Tony. Gone.

He cries until he has nothing left to give. And then he curls up on the hardwood floor and cries some more.

*

When he wakes, there’s a blanket covering his body and a pillow underneath his head in the hallway, and a glass of water sits nearby. His head throbs something wicked and his back aches, but it’s probably the most sleep he’s gotten all week.

He drinks some water and then slowly rises to his feet, joints cracking at every move. He keeps the blanket tucked around his shoulders, hanging off him like a cape, and shuffles towards the kitchen.

See, he knows he’s in the wrong. He’s known since before MJ confronted him that what he was doing to himself was fucked up. He knows that this isn’t good or healthy or right, that he’s pushing everyone away like he wants to be killed and forgotten. He knows that Tony had every right to be pissed after yesterday. He knows that he hurt his friends and his family. He just doesn’t know how to stop anymore, he doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost and he feels small, he wants his mom to run her fingers through his hair and tell him everything will be okay.

Instead, he puts on a pot of coffee.

He makes two cups, too much sugar in one and just a little milk in the other, and takes them down to the lab.

He hesitates just outside the glass doors. He knows Tony didn’t sleep last night. He knows Tony has every right to hate him. He knows Tony probably broke down the second he left Peter alone. He knows Tony probably had footage of him sleeping open all night. And Peter doesn’t know if he can fix this.

Tony looks up like he knows Peter’s there. His eyes are red-rimmed, a little wild from caffeine consumption, and his hair sticks up in every direction like he ran his hand through it a hundred times.

Peter walks into the lab cautiously, slowly, like he’s the one approaching a feral animal this time. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all, he just sets the coffee down in front of Tony and then backs off a few feet.

They stare at each other for a few moments.

“Hey, kid,” Tony finally says, looking like he might cry at any moment, Peter feels the same, on the edge of a precipice.

Peter’s hands are shaking so badly that his coffee is spilling. He sets it down on the lab bench, knowing it’ll make a ring and guilt rising just a little higher.

“Hi,” he squeaks, swallowing again and again. He doesn’t let himself clench his hands into fists, just lets them shake.

Tony takes a long sip of coffee, Peter watches every movement he makes like he’s scared Tony will lash out at him, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop and it could happen at any second.

“Kid,” Tony says again. But he doesn’t follow it up with any words of wisdom.

The apologies ball up in his throat, getting stuck, and his breathing starts to struggle around them.

Tony’s expression softens, shoulders relaxing a little. “It’s okay.”

And Peter’s the one to start shaking his head fervently now. “It’s not okay.”

“It’s okay,” Tony repeats gently, always so gentle like Peter’s made of fucking glass. “It’s going to be okay, kid.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Peter feels panicked, trapped, scared. He feels like he’s dying. Like the past weeks of pushing himself beyond what he’s capable of have finally caught up to him. All the caffeine, the sleepless nights, the stress, the fights, the anger, the nightmares, the headaches, the visions, the pressure, it all just caves in at once.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“I don’t want to die,” Peter chokes out. Because Tony was right, if he continued like this, he was going to die before he was able to make it to MIT, no ifs ands or buts. He would die. Even without the suit, he would die.

And he didn’t think it would bother him so much, the idea of dying, but with the work he’s put towards his future, is also the dreams of what could be. That future he’s planned for himself could be so exciting, so fulfilling, if he made it there.

“It’s going to be okay, bud. We’re going to figure it out.”

Peter doesn’t cry, he doesn’t think he has a single tear left in him, but his shoulders wrack with pain regardless. He reaches out for Tony with what strength he has when the whole world is caving in on him. And Tony moves quickly, standing and coming around the bench, wrapping Peter up in his arms, taking the weight of the world off his shoulders, burdening some of the pressure with him.

“I can’t give up,” Peter says, words muffled in Tony’s sweater.

“You don’t have to give up, buddy, but we have to make some changes.”

“I need MIT. I need Boston. I need scholarships. I need the grades and the extra-curriculars and the money, I need Spider-Man. How- How?”

Tony holds him up when his knees threaten to give out, cradles the back of his neck, a good pressure that alleviates a little bit of the pressure behind his eyes. “MJ told me how you feel. That what Spider-Man has doesn’t belong to you. That I, what we have, belongs to Spider-Man and not you, but you’re my kid, Peter Parker is, not Spider-Man.”

“We wouldn’t have met without the spider. We wouldn’t know each other. I wouldn’t have this internship, I wouldn’t have a spot in your life. Even if you like me for me and not my alter-ego, it still is because of him.”

“Even so, I wouldn’t have kept you around if I didn’t like you, kiddo. I wouldn’t have offered an internship, I wouldn’t have bought back this tower to stay nearby, I wouldn’t have wine nights with your aunt, I wouldn’t have movie nights with you, I wouldn’t go to your decathlon meets, I wouldn’t be handing over my company, I wouldn’t be planning out a room for you in my cabin, if it weren’t for you.”

“You are?”

“You’re my kid, Peter.”

“So it wouldn’t be wrong for me to use the internship on my application,” Peter says quietly, less of a question. “It wouldn’t be wrong for you to write me a letter of recommendation.”

“I have one written already. Had it written since you were fifteen.”

Peter breathes in the smell of metal and day-old cologne and coffee, and finally feels like his lungs accept the oxygen for the first time in what feels like forever. Tony will make it all okay.

*

“Hey… I’m sorry for what happened the other day,” he says, listening to the tinny sound of silence as he leaves a message on MJ’s phone. “I really am. I know you were just trying to help, I was just too far gone to accept it. I’m- I’m going to stop, relax, slow down. You were right, of course you were. I don’t know a time when you weren’t right. I’m dropping football and robotics and tutoring. I can’t do it all and Spider-Man. I’m taking a couple days off, a ‘mental health long weekend’ Tony’s calling it. If you… Maybe you’d think about coming by? I know you have no reason to forgive me, but- I just- I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. And thank you. Thank you for trying to help me, thank you for being a friend, thank you for putting up with me these past months, thank you for telling Mister Stark, thank you for everything. Alright, well… bye, MJ.”

*

May comes by that night. She cries when Tony tells her how bad it got, how little sleep Peter was getting, how much he was pushing himself. She cries and gathers Peter up in her arms like he’s still five-years-old.

“Peter, baby,” she says into his hair. And that’s all it takes for him to cry too. And she keeps saying it, “Peter, baby, I should’ve known, I should’ve seen it. I’ve been working too much and I…”

“I just wanted to make Ben proud,” he cries into her scrubs.

“Ben would be so proud of you, baby, so goddamn proud. You don’t need to do anything more than be you for him to be proud. I’m so sorry we ever made you think otherwise. He loved you so much and he just saw so much potential in you, we all do, that’s why- We never wanted to put you under so much pressure, just wanted to make sure you knew you could do anything you set your mind to.”

*

MJ and Ned come by. They exchange their apologies, even MJ says she’s sorry for being so angry that day.

They spend the day playing video games and talking and eating.

Peter feels like the balance has been restored in the universe.

*

When he finally applies to MIT as well as plenty of back-up schools, he doesn’t freak out. He thinks that it’ll be okay, whatever happens. If he has to do a lap year, so be it, if he goes to a college in Boston or New York for a year before reapplying, it’ll be okay.

His grades have steadily increased since The Intervention, and his caffeine intake has steadily declined. He hangs out with his friends more regularly, spends time with May, has relaxed nights with Tony instead of cramming them full of studying. He gets back his spot on the Academic Decathlon team and splits his responsibilities as student class president with his vice president.

Tony pats him on the shoulder and presses a kiss to his forehead when he hits the final submit button on his final application. He murmurs a quiet admission of pride into Peter’s hair.

Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.

*

MJ gets early acceptance to Harvard. Peter’s never seen her smile that wide before.

*

Ned gets accepted to MIT a few weeks later. He brings the letter to Peter’s apartment and says that they should wait until Peter gets his, but Peter shakes his head and tells him to open it now. Ned’s hands shake badly as he opens the letter. There’s a long moment of silence as Ned reads and Peter waits.

And then, “I got accepted.”

Ned doesn’t sound as happy as he should, sounds nervous even as he looks up at Peter.

“Dude!” Peter exclaims, jumping up from his seat. He grabs the letter from Ned’s hands and reads the congratulations. He throws his arms around Ned. “Holy shit!”

Ned hugs him tight but when they pull away, he still looks small. “You’re not… upset? I mean, if you don’t get it, I can wait to start, defer until next year-”

“Are you kidding?” Peter says, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “I’m so proud of you, dude. I’m so excited for you. You deserve it, man.”

And Ned finally smiles. “I can’t believe it.”

Peter pulls him into another hug.

*

Peter doesn’t hear anything for weeks.

There are a few nights where his anxiety gets the best of him. Sometimes, he heads over to Tony’s lab, knowing he’ll be up even at the odd hours. Sometimes, he swings over to MJ’s, lands on her fire escape and taps on her window. She’s always there to soothe his worries. She doesn’t have a doubt in her mind that he’ll get accepted, neither does May or Tony or Ned. But, worse case scenario, it’ll all work out. Nobody’s going to be upset or mad if he doesn’t go to MIT in the fall.

*

And then he gets it.

He’s studying at the dining room table with Ned and MJ, preparing for midterms in March, when May comes home from work with the mail. And sitting among them is the letter he was waiting for.

MIT.

“You ready?” MJ asks. She puts her hand over his on the letter.

“No matter what it says, it’ll be okay,” Ned reminds him. “No matter what.”

Tears burn his eyes all of a sudden. He puts the letter down on the table, unopened, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. They have a future planned out, the three of them. An apartment in Boston, road trips together back to New York whenever they can, MJ wants to get a cat. May’s had her two-week notice letter ready on the coffee table. Tony’s already started blueprints for that cabin he’ll build. He knows he keeps saying everything will be okay if he doesn’t get in, but…

“It will be,” MJ says like she knows what he was thinking. “You can still come to Boston with us if you don’t get in. Your future doesn’t rest on what this letter says.”

Peter believes her, that it’ll be okay, but slides the letter to her, silently asking her to do the honors, he can’t do it himself.

She nods and picks it up. She gives him one last reassuring smile before opening the envelope.

“Dear Peter Parker,” MJ reads.

[hummingbird-of-light]

In Our Favor

Part 181

McCoy

“I’m going to catch up on some studying,” McCoy said as Jim looked at him. He knew Jim couldn’t argue with that. It had been one of his arguments for going out the night before; they’d have the rest of the weekend for homework.

“Eugene said last night he’d help me,” McCoy finished.

“Where are the lovebirds this morning?” Jim asked, looking around the dining hall.

“Probably trying to avoid you and your interrogations,” Sulu chimed in.

“What are you going to do?” McCoy asked as he and Scotty left the dining hall. He heard a small sigh from his husband.

“I want to talk with Aporal and find out what he said last night.”

McCoy could hear how upset Scotty still was. He knew Scotty was quite concerned that Aporal had said something he shouldn’t have. But it was too late to take it back now.

“Eugene is meeting me at his dorm,” McCoy said. “We studied there last time. If you need me, just let me know.” McCoy stopped and grabbed Scotty’s arm. “Whatever you find out from Aporal, try not to let it get to you. He intervened so you would get left alone and I’m happy nothing bad happened.”

“I am too, love,” Scotty replied. “I just hope the lad didn’t do something that he will regret.”

“It’ll be fine,” McCoy soothed. He pulled Scotty closer and kissed him reassuringly. “I’ve got to go up and get my stuff. I’ll let you know when we finish, ok? Maybe when I’m done we can go take a walk out to the beach again. We haven’t done that in a long time.”

Scotty nodded slowly. “We could. It’ll be colder than last time…”

“That’s why I have you,” McCoy laughed, before stealing another kiss. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” With that McCoy headed into the dorm and Scotty walked off, presumably to find Aporal.

Eugene was sipping from a large mug when McCoy joined him in the rec room.

“You reserve this when you got in last night?” he asked.

Eugene nodded, and a soft groan left his lips. McCoy’s mouth pulled into a smirk.

“I thought you learned about drinking too much last time we went out.” He laughed as Eugene gestured rudely at him with a smile. He set his books and PADD on the table and pulled out a chair.

“How’s Cora?” he asked as he sat.

Eugene managed a small laugh. “Worse than me. She was still hiding under a pillow when I got up.”

McCoy’s eyebrow arched. “She’s here?”

Eugene flushed as he looked back at McCoy. “Still was when I came down.”

“Did you ever meet her brother?” McCoy thought back to Lt. Sullivan pulling him aside to ask about the boy who had asked out his baby sister.

Eugene nodded. “Declan? Yeah, he’s a nice guy. We all had lunch a couple weeks ago. Off campus so we could just all be normal people.”

McCoy thought for a moment as they got their books open.

“How about dinner tonight? You two and me and Scotty?” he asked.

Eugene looked back up at him. “Yeah. That could be nice. Have to see what Cora thinks. Or rather, how she’s feeling.”

Both boys looked up in surprise after about an hour of studying when the door opened. Cora walked in. She was cleaned up with fresh clothes, but McCoy could still see the traces of hangover.

“Hi Leonard,” she greeted him as she moved over next to Eugene. He turned up his face as she leaned down for a kiss.

“Morning,” McCoy replied.

“How you feeling?” Eugene asked gently.

“I’ve been better,” Cora said, with a sarcastic laugh.

“Want to go out tonight?” Eugene asked.

“Ugh! No!” Cora made a face.

“For dinner,” Eugene laughed. “Leonard wants to go with us and Scotty.”

“Oh!” Cora said with understanding. “That sounds fun.” She nodded and looked at McCoy. “Did you have somewhere in mind?”

McCoy glanced at Eugene and smiled.

“I know a nice place,” was all McCoy answered.

Part 182

Scotty

"Hey Aporal, can we talk?" Scotty called after his friend. The Scotsman had left the dining hall right after him, wanting to catch him alone.

Aporal turned around and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Uhm, sure. As long as you don't plan on asking any more questions about Jaylah and me dancing," he retorted and Scotty had to admit that that was definitely something he'd like to get more details on, but he shook his head.

"Nae, it's something else. Let's talk in yer room?" he suggested.

Aporal threw a glance over Scotty's shoulder.

"If he's okay with it," he said, shrugging his shoulders and Scotty turned around to see someone chatting with another cadet close by. Yet another member of security, huh? The Scotsman tried not to sigh. They appeared to be everywhere. Though if remembered correctly, it was one of the members who had been at the club the night before.

"It's fine. Now let's get to yer room."

"So? What's so important, Scottish boy?" Aporal asked once they where seated. The Andorian had chosen his bed while Scotty was sitting at a chair.

"I want to talk about what happened at the bar last night," Scotty started and Aporal eyed him questioningly.

"Oh? What's there to talk about? You already thanked me. It's all good," he replied, but Scotty shook his head.

"It's not! What in the name of God did ye tell that lad? He looked so shocked! Did ye threaten him?"

A smirk formed on Aporal's lips and he chuckled.

"Wouldn't you like to know, huh?"

"Aye! Of course I want to know! I mean... I'm glad that ye helped me, but ye cannae just threaten people. Do ye want any more trouble than necessary?"

"Relax, Scottish boy. I didn't threaten to hurt that guy in any way. Well... not in the way you think."

Scotty's face flushed red from anger. He was starting to get furious.

"Now what's that supposed to mean? Why do ye always talk in riddles?" His voice was getting louder than Scotty had meant it to and Aporal raised a finger to his lips.

"Hey, hey, shhh. Keep the volume down, will you? I don't want any of those guards to storm my room just because they think that I'm hurting you."

Scotty snorted.

"Tch... fine. Just... tell me what ye said to him," he hissed and Aporal's smirk returned to his lips.

"Oh, I just told him that he shouldn't talk too loudly about someone hitting on his girlfriend or else his other two girlfriends might find out."

Scotty's mouth dropped open slowly and his eyes widened.

"W-what?" he eventually got out a word, flabbergasted by that revelation.

Aporal grinned at him, nodding his head.

"Oh yeah, that guy has at least three girlfriends and he's betraying all of them at the same time," he casually said and Scotty frowned.

"B-but... how would ye know that?" The Scotsman still couldn't believe it.

"He's in one of my classes. And trust me when I say that it's good to know your enemy's weaknesses," Aporal explained and at the look Scotty was giving him, he added, "and also your friend's."

"Ye... mean to tell me that ye know private stuff about every single person ye have classes with?" Scotty asked.

"Oh, not everyone. The ones who aren't a threat aren't that important," Aporal shrugged.

"Aporal, that's..."

"Impressive, I know. Thanks."

"Nae! That's crazy!" Scotty exclaimed, even though he couldn't help but be actually kinda impressed by it.

"Like I said, Scottish boy, it's a dangerous world out there. Better be safe than sorry."

Scotty sighed. Aporal really was one of kind.

[officiallyossy-haywooddent]

MUN RANT - OOC

(because I don’t want some people on main 2 know stuff about my schedule)

So I have this nasty little habit of overcommitting to stuff, right? And ‘cause today was the first full day of school we had ✨ club selection ✨

Clubs at my school are not at all mandatory but a lot of them count as classes (which I found out the hard way last year) and I’ve already signed up for full classes and 3 extra curriculars (online gym, yearbook, peer tutoring), two of which are known for being extremely time consuming.

Well, my dumbass self decided ‘Hey! Extra curriculars at minimum 4 times a week just isn’t enough!’ And I went to the meetup for the Robotics team as well.

Now, full disclosure, I have done robotics before and I absolutely HATE it. I hate programming and manufacturing is sorta fun but there’s a whole certification thing you have to do for it. But I decided to do it anyway because it counts as extra credit for my science, math, and peer tutoring courses.

Luckily I’m probably gonna be placed in business and computer graphics but the issue is we, a relatively small group of teenagers, have to figure out how to raise a MINIMUM of 40,000$ by January to fund everything and we have basically nothing in reserve.

One of our biggest charity events is happening this weekend, only half our volunteer slots are booked, I can’t go because I have no means of transportation, and I have no clue what’s going on.

This is on top of me signing up for a year 11 class this semester that I haven’t taken the prerequisite for because it got scheduled for next semester, my new math teacher (she seems really nice otherwise) let us know there’s an average minimum of 4 hours of homework from her class per week, and I absolutely despise half the people in my French class. As well as my family wanting everyone to join an extra sports class 3x a week.

The problem is that I can’t quit anything and still do the things I want to do and have all the opportunities I want and I don’t really know how to handle any of this tbh.

I’m fine, just anxious and frustrated. It is what it is.

[timetravelingcourtney]

Meet Izzy and Nic: 1994 (OCs)

Izzy and Nick share everything including a birthday and a bedroom, but not an outlook on life.  Growing up in Middleton, Wisconsin, they attend Komrey Middle School.  Isabella always looks just so, her desk is always tidy and her homework is always done.  However, her twin Nicolette, or Nic for short, seems to spend her afternoons and weekends running from one practice to the next.  In class, she doodles all the time and has to ask her sister about the lesson she’s missed.  Izzy seems to have it all together with her perfect outfits and clean desk but when life throws her a curve, she struggles to hit the ball.

Last Halloween, when they were eight, Izzy and Nic wore matching black cat costumes but lately they haven’t been matching much.  Their mother, Christina, is disappointed but understands that they are developing their own tastes and identities.  

Izzy always seems to know what she wants and this year she wanted to be a medieval princess, so their mother has been working on her costume for weeks.  Nic can’t figure out what to be for Halloween but Izzy points out that she loves swimming in the lake and would make a great lake creature.  Nic uses her artistry and creativity and concocts the perfect outfit from items she finds in their father’s fishing boat, the garage and a discarded dress of her mother’s.  Nic worries that her costume will look unimpressive next to her twin’s, but Izzy is so enthusiastic about Nic’s creation that she proudly trick or treats through the neighborhood by her sister’s side.  When they get home, their Halloween buckets overflow with candy.

Next Up: Things get more complicated when Izzy and Nic Learn a Lesson

a note on this project:  I came into these early AGOTs over several years as well as their outfit collection.  When I set out to create this story line, I was pondering the question of whether or not AG would use any of the early AGOT items in the new line.  If so, what would it look like?  It’s an interesting conundrum: if AG will be true to their own past or go for something differently nostalgic.  As an experiment in play, I stuck with what I had with just a few purchases to complete outfits and diy’d a few items as well, as I imagine a young me would do.  A few promises - the leaked part of the story of the twins Jewish heritage will be explored as well as complex and impactful current events from the time.  I have the six book story arc descriptions completed and so excited to share it with you :)

[daisybeewrites]

hey guys life update/rant with a trigger warning, for both school shootings and depression.

so on monday of this week a professor was shot and killed at my university. we were on lockdown with no information for four hours, classes were canceled for two days afterward, and as far as i know they still haven’t found the gun.

i am a first year. i just got here.

i moved in two weeks ago.

i hate that i’m not even surprised or shocked, i went straight from comedic relief during the event to curled up and sobbing until i physically couldn’t anymore. i was in bed for almost an entire day after. i missed most of my classes today because i was so hyperfixated on getting homework done that i worked for four hours straight, didn’t eat dinner, then had a nap.

i am running on dr. pepper and the promise of a long weekend at home with my mom and my cats.

i truly hope that none of you ever have to experience this. everyone around me is processing and grieving and angry and sad and numb and apathetic all at the same time. starting uni was overwhelming enough, but this??

i will be okay. i know that. i just wanted to let everyone know that if i’m not responding or reblogging or active, it’s because i don’t have the energy to be on my phone or social media. typically tumblr is my safe space, and i hope it will always be, but it is very exhausting trying to write and create (which i set up a schedule for — i have seven WIPs lined up from The Dragon Prince to Heartstopper to Agents of SHIELD, finally!!) i felt so good about having the time to create and now i mentally am not in a space where i can.

please don’t feel like you have to respond to any of this, i just needed a safe space to spill all my feelings and overwhelm.

#endgunviolence #improvementalhealghsystems #recognizeabuse #gunreforminamerica #yeehaw

P.S. i’m going to the ocean this weekend to reset and hopefully i can come back to writing full swing :)

[evelyne-am]

21st march 2023

DAY8

If you could not tell from my last post, and my thoughts are wandering back to music, life, pretentious things like hair; that I was trying to get myself out of. But I guess habit is habit. I slscked over the weekend. Instead of spending my day off focusing on my new script and having it embedded in me, or making some of the new music that Sir told me to do, I barely did anything, I barely scratched the surface of the pile of Load. Past few months I have been doing that. I’m not hard on myself because I know everyone needs downtime, but throughout a pandemic, throughout my life pre-2022, I’ve gotten used to a lot of downtime. I’ve gotten used to getting distracted, doing things that are meaningless in the long run, and also giving into temptation. It’s okay, I have taken on more than I could chew, and I have this new place, new people, new projects, I haven’t watched TV, something that I used to do every single day since August. But I am still struggling with my focus. Today is the first day that we have real rehearsals. We did a little bit of a warmup and went straight into the play. The play is made into three acts act one add two add three are very different. We worked on act one, we worked on blocking, we worked on some dialogues. At this moment the lead roles have been assigned, but Sir says that they may change, I don’t have one. However I am responsible for leading the music part and though I thought a break from music is exactly what I wanted, I realise that what is better for the play is me taking charge of the music, I wanted to be a little more selfish, the last few years I have allowed everything else to come before what I want. But in this case I don’t feel like I’m putting anyone else’s needs first, this is my play, whether I play two lines or 130. Sir is very unhappy with the way that we have started running in and out. I said in my story, this is the first day I felt like rehearsals started, that is because it is true. We’ve chalked out the way that we are going to sit to stand and move enter, it was supposed to be a 360 audience but Sir makes it into three sides instead of four. We go home realising that there is so much more to do including the music. Sir ask me about this song, and in great shame I say I have not really finished it. He didn’t yell at me, but I felt the urgency of what was happening. Maybe I should put my whole focus on making this play and its music better, but I am so enjoying challenging myself in these acting things that I also don’t want to give that up. Over the weekend my friend Shaheen who is a long-term theatre actor told me if there’s any advice that he gives me it is to trust my director. So I decided to do so.

Mum leaves for foreign lands today. The half an hour I got to see her I was very anxious and she could tell. I didn’t really get a chance to converse with her because all I had in my mind was how am I gonna balance home. I got a balance. I did not very well. I left my work to the end of the night and ended up working from midnight to 1 am again. Why am I letting emotions from my personal life comes first? . They of course deserve their space, but I have to time manage better and get my homework done before I go into other things. And though I get a little bit done, I realise I’m not behaving at my hundred percent yet. And I need to. When I’m directing and others don’t do it, I really feel bad, I can’t do that to my director.

Henceforth I will be referring to Sir As my director.

[starcrossedandstupid]

I have nothing that SHOULD trigger any anxiety. My classes are so, so easy. French is the only one with any challenge at the moment, and it’s a whole new language. HP Algebra 2 will get harder, I’m sure. But it’s the right skill level. I only train jiujistu three times a week, and I haven’t done a single competition yet.

But, even with like no homework, it feels like I have no time to do anything. I wake up. I get ready. I go to school, get my only break at lunch after fourth period, I finish classes, I go home. I do a math problem or two. I rest for 20-40 minutes and message my friends, and we all complain or talk about writing. It’s 4:30 or 5:00. I have an hour and a half or hour before I need to make food, eat, and get ready for training. It doesn’t feel like enough. I want to crochet, but I’ve started with a hard project and I can’t stop until a certain section. I don’t think it’s enough time to do it. I want to hang out with friends. My closest friend, friendship and distance wise, goes to a different school and is swamped with homework. Even if they weren’t, it isn’t enough time. I’m too tired to write. Not enough time to bake. Maybe I can read if I feel like it, if I don’t feel like I’m a slump. It feels like I can’t do anything until training, I have a thing I need to do so I can’t do anything else. I’m so tired socially from school. Go to training. Get back at 9:00. Shower. Relax. Talk to my friends a little more. I have no classes with any of them really. We don’t have enough time to talk at school. It’s 10:00. I should really be going to be soon to get enough hours of sleep. I don’t feel like I have enough time. Spend time online until 10:30-11:30. Go to sleep. Repeating, with a bit of variation. It’s the weekend. I need to rest, to stop being around people. But I want to see my friends. I haven’t spend that much time with them. I spend at least one of the days, laying in bed, trying to regain social energy, enough to last me Sunday and the next school week.

It shouldn’t be bad. It’s easy. But it’s so boring, so draining, I’m so tired. I could finish all this work within 3 months instead of nine if you put me in a classroom with the same amount of school a day, with the same kind break, if you gave me textbooks and a computer and a person for when I need a better answer. Then I’d have time to feel happy, to not have an ever so slightly feeling of desperate longing for something else. I’m not sure what. I don’t feel like my time is truly mine. I don’t know what to do.

[the-duckless-pond]

My day has improved as it has gone on. I had some calm down time after my groceries arrived where I put my phone on do not disturb and put on my osha earphones with soothing lofi playing and sat on the couch watching my sun catcher. It was very relaxing.

Here it is catching the late morning sun! It was so sparkly and fun to watch. It sent rainbows all over my living room and dining room, too. I am looking forward to waking up tomorrow to see the sparkles again. And I definitely want more sun catchers now! The people I went to the Renn Faire with said they’d tell me next time they are going, and I am hoping to go with them at that time and visit that shop again and get another sun catcher to put on the left window.

After I felt less overwhelmed I did some of my French composition homework - chapter 1.1. I have to do 1.1 to 1.4 by the end of the week so I super need to get on that. I’ll do better for the next two week cycle and have a plan and a schedule. Anyway, so I did that and it was kind of hard because it’s all by myself and stuff and some of the exercises said to do it with a partner but I did my best by myself. Nice to get some use out of my iPad on good notes for its intended use (aka the whole reason I purchased it - drawing is just a fun bonus).

Then I took a bath because it sounded nice. I listened to a podcast called Myths and Legends while relaxing with Epsom salt in the tub, because my muscles are very sore from walking around for eight hours yesterday.

And then I briefly vented about how difficult I am finding an independent study class to my bff. I tried to keep the text small and short and not overwhelming. I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it. It’s just that I know I text a lot because I don’t have anyone else to text so I tend to go on and on and on. I am trying to not do that so much but it’s hard. Or maybe it’s okay that I do that? I’ve never asked tbh. I just text long messages when she doesn’t respond and shorter messages when she does because I figure if they are shorter they aren’t as scary, or something like that. I’m probably overthinking it. I also sent her a picture of my sun catcher this morning!

Anyway after all that I did exercices 1.2 which were not as numerous as those in 1.1 and only took fifteen minutes (mostly because I skipped the partner one but I’m going to do better on 1.3 and 1.4 I promise). Got to cross those off my list which felt really good! Other than doing my flash cards that was all the school stuff I had planned for today, but I might try to do 1.3 and 1.4 as well just to get them over with since they are proving difficult.

Now I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up and we are going to go get sodas and I am picking up some stuff from the old studio. After that I’ll put stuff away and finally finish setting up the tv area since I will have my surge protector and can plug everything in at long last! Then I am going to celebrate by watching an episode of SVU. Or maybe it would be safer to watch the news? Since I want to get more studying done today and it is easy to just click next episode on SVU.

I haven’t entirely decided what all I am grabbing besides my Amazon packages that got delivered there over the weekend. Maybe my vintage clothes or my winter scarves? Probably my vintage clothes. I need to figure out which ones I am keeping based on which ones still fit me after recovering from my ED and gaining 40lbs. I haven’t worn any of my vintage since before COVID. I told mom I would just do it at the old studio but I think it would be easier on my brain to do it here. So I guess I’ll grab those, in that case. I hope some of my favorites still fit. I mean, they’re all special and my favorite but there are four or five out of my collection that I really, really love.

For now, until mom arrives, I am just hanging out with the cats. Callie is on the cat stairs listening to the birds and the crickets (it’s so nice out today that the windows are still open) and Boo is purring on my lap. She weighed in at 9.2lbs today! That’s up 0.1lbs since the worrying weigh in that started all this. And she hasn’t been nauseous in two days :) this is usually her nausea time so I’m glad to hear her purring and see her happy.

Okay so, plan is this:

- hang out with cats

- see mom and pick up packages and vintage

- put away vintage and set aside time to go through collection and see what fits

- finish setting up tv area