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wandixx · 2 months

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Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies part 3

All work words count: 14 643

Words in this part: 3 056

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay

Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Joker goons are in for an orange surprise and Duke does not like it in the slightest

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part, Previous part

trigger warnings: gun violence, panic attacks, dissociation, mentions of Joker gas and what it doeas to people (tell me if i missed something, I'll add it)

Duke was having quite a good day. His schoolwork finally got lighter and up until now nothing notable happen on his patrol. Obviously, couldn’t have Gotham without at least one mugging and bank and corner shop robbery. About the last thing, if it was chain store he would conveniently arrive too late to stop it and just follow up to make sure cashier didn’t get fired. He used to be intimately close with hardships of getting necessary supplies like food or gas masks while corporate assholes were trying to suck people dry. But it was family business so he actually had to step in. He did mention secure way of getting resources to would be robbers though. All in all, not so bad, pretty good day. As for now, he was swinging on grapple to meet with Dani, armed with healthy snack Alfred demanded he took for her when he got texted on his Signal-work-phoneTM. It meant important business 90% of the time, so he stopped to check it out. Other 10% were memes from Dani that usually were worth it anyway.

Got it in one, Hoopoe texted. He opened chat expecting funny video or something instead to be greeted by:

Dani: Hey Signal

Dani: Peple aint spossedf t get out f Arkham

Dani: Amirite?

His stomach dropped. He wished it was hypothetical question but he knew better than to believe such fantasies. Things didn’t go so well in Gotham, especially not with Hoopoe.

You: Yeah, your right. What’s up?

You: You’re*

Dani: Nerd

Dani: Whatre you’re thots on clowns

Dani: ?

His stomach officially landed at his feet and decided it wasn’t enough dropping and ended up on a street below. Even if Joker was still locked up, his goons being active were bad news.

You: Where are you?

You: Hoopoe, where are you?

Dani: Clm dow I ned to chek

Dani: I have ni ieda

Dani: The box building rod

Dani: roof*

Dani: Warehouse?

Dani: That the wors

Dani: I think

You: There are over 1000 warehouses in Gotham

Dani: Idk wht yu want me totll yu

Dani: Therere other warehous arond?

You: Okay

You: Check corners for symbol and number

Back in the day everyone other than Bruce decided to take part in a challenge to count all of the warehouses in Gotham manually. They each got their sector and graffiti spray to mark counted buildings. Later it kinda turned into a way of identifying them.

Dani: Red blb with too wite dots

Dani: #83

Okay, he wasn’t too far. He risked roof hopping and checking texts to make sure she didn’t try anything stu-

Dani: Im goin in

You: No!

You: Stay where you are!

You: Hoopoe!

Dani: Calm down worrywart

Dani: Jus wante ti get ab look

Dani: Invisible

Dani: M not dump

I doubt it

You entered building with Joker’s goons with no back-up or plan. It’s extremely dangerous

Dani: Yeah, yeah don care

Dani: 5 goons in clown masks

Dani: Maks idk wat of

Dani: Not northern hemisphere of sky for sure

Dani: Weird containter s

Dani: Ari smells funny

Dani: Giggly i guess

Dani: U prbl know better

You: Get out of there

You: NOW!

You: Try not breathing it in

Dani: K

Dani: Ill stop brething then

You: GET OUT!

Dani: K

Dani: Why so agressive

Because Duke knew what Joker gas could do to person. He knew how it took wonderful people (like his parents) and left shells wand shadows of who they used to be. Because every gas release left him with panic attack. Because he knew it was more dangerous than even some vigilantes thought it was.

You: Wait until I get there

Dani: K

He almost tripped with how much he tried to speed up.

Dani was actually vibrating when he arrived but stayed quiet. Good. If she breathed in some Joker gas it wasn’t working dose yet. Duke had deep feeling not even Alfred’s cookies would be enough to deter her from entering. Offering her a granola bar he sat at the edge of the roof with bone deep sigh. Girl took snack eagerly, bouncing around like puppy high on caffeine.

“How about we take a note of this happening and get going? Other Bats are better equipped to deal with this,” They weren’t but he didn’t want Dani anywhere near this mess. He himself didn’t want to be anywhere near it either.

Kid got deadly still, staring at him as if she could read his deepest secrets if she looked hard enough.

“They’re scaring you” she whispered with strong feeling but Duke had trouble reading what feeling was it. He put his face in his hands for a moment. How was he even supposed to answer that?

“Joker is one of the most dangerous people in Gotham and these guys are working for him. They have guns. Of course I’m a little scared”

Judging by the face Dani made, she wanted to call him out on his bullshit but thought better of it. She floated to sit next to him, swallowing granola in few bites.

“My friend Johnny mentioned him,” she started between chewing ”he said ‘bastard murdered my baby bro Jay and Jay knew his way in fight, stay away from him Dani’. Normally Johnny isn’t so careful”

“All more reasons to leave it for others!” Duke almost shouted, hope growing in his chest. Maybe he could steer her away from it!

“He also told me to hit him if I happen to meet him. He would owe me ‘big one’ then. Do you think I could get ‘small one’ for couple of goons?!”

“Hoopoe no!”

Girl looked thoughtful and after over two weeks of working together he learned to fear this expression.

“Whatever you’re thinking, no. I’ll buy you biggest fries, just leave this–” he waved vaguely at the warehouse hoping it would get message across “–whole mess alone” There was lump in his throat.

Dani haven’t abandon whatever thought got her like that and nodded to herself few time. She drifted around a bit, shifted under her way too long cloak and finally settled with a soft smile.

“You’re scared… Terrified. You’re terrified of them,” she started calmly, like she would talk to a victim if she actually knew how to do it ”It’s okay. It’s great. Fear is what keeps humans alive,” she nodded as if she recounted something from textbook properly in front of the class “But I’m not scared and I fought people much stronger than them and I’m even better now thanks to you. If you’re so terrified, it means they need to be dealt with and it needs to be done fast. It’s okay,” her grin from soft turned devilish “I was itching for some fun fight anyway”

“Dani-”

“It’ll be quick, I promise,” she said, serious again “Don’t worry,” she stood up, saluted and fell through the roof, all too fast to react or not miss it with a blink. Frankly, it caught Duke so off guard he couldn’t even move for a few seconds after the whole ordeal anyway. He threw himself down to the nearest window as soon as he regained control over his body. His heart was stuck in his throat.

Dani tackled first goon with delighted giggle right when he crashed inside. He checked if his mask was secure on reflexes he plummeted towards the ground, moving his body to land safely on top of the shelf. Warehouses were weird place to fight. Easy to get vantage point like Duke just did but was also hard in a way. Little space made it hard to use wider streaks, easy get backed into corner. Annoying more than anything.

Dani’s wrestling match was so attention grabbing that nobody even looked at Duke, despite his far from subtle arrival. He threw himself forward when he caught telltale shine of the gun in one of goons hands. It was dumb move when Dani was so close to his ally, but who he was to criticize Joker goon’s live choices. It didn’t take Signal long to understand he wouldn’t make it on time. He had to but there was no-

Two gunshots rang in rapid succession split second before Duke got to the goon and, with swiftness granted only by adrenaline and fury people got when someone their got hurt, knocked man out cold. Before body could hit the ground he spun around to see the damage because Dani still refused to wear any armor and from this close goon would have to be Storm Trooper to miss her. Because she was most likely bleeding heavily. What if they hit something instantly lethal?

He faced a fight right in time to see Dani jumping at another goon also openly wielding a gun. He wanted to yell at her but bullets were fired before he got a chance. He looked for blood dripping from her torso while dodging another man barely taking his eyes off Dani.

“That wasn’t nice,” she sounded like she pouted! At being shot! “If I was anyone else I would be seriously hurt right now, you know?” her voice was somewhat off. Like it wasn’t quite made by her vocal cords but some awkward voice generator.

Before the appalled man could react, he got technically not too good right hook to the jaw. It was strong enough to make him unconscious and get quite loud creak out of his neck. Duke hoped Dani didn’t mess up the guy's spine. He was criminal but he didn’t deserve this type of treatment.

Duke focused back on his own fight when he made sure that girl wasn’t in immediate danger of dying. He dodged running goon again, who literally ran himself into the shelf because of that. Signal used his short confusion to hit him in the side of his neck, rendering the opponent unconscious. Okay, they made it, this was the last-

Another gunshot made his sped-up heart skip a beat. Lump in his throat suffocated him.

No, no, no, no, no-

“I shot you in the face!”

He looked her way ready to see unmoving body and red decorating concrete floor.

“There was a good quip for- oh right” she started cheerfully, entirely unharmed, before her face twisted into something actually demonic.

“Y̶o̸u̵r̵ ̶p̵e̶s̴k̶y̵ ̴l̷i̷t̶t̸l̶e̸ ̵b̷u̸l̴l̴e̶t̷s̵ ̴w̸o̴n̵'̸t̵ ̵h̶u̵r̶t̸ ̸m̷e̶, ₥ØⱤ₮₳Ⱡ₴”

She laughed in distinctly Dani way, all bright and joyful while also so not like herself, distorted and echoey it mage hairs at the back of his neck stand.

Duke froze when goon fired again and there was no way she dodged it. There was not enough space. She had to get shot. She got shot and he did nothing to stop it. A child got hurt because of him-

He looked at but hadn’t quite seen how Dani knocked out last goon and flew up to him. He heard her voice but words were impossible to understand over rush of blood in his ears. He could tell she was laughing. They should get out. Dani mentioned giggly smell in the air. It had to mean Joker gas. They needed to be out yesterday.

He stumbled a bit, forcing his leg to cooperate, half caring, half dragging girl to the nearest exit point. Fact that he could touch her and didn’t feel any blood was grounding a bit.

“-gnal, Signal are you okay? Your heart is beating weird,” Dani asked, sounding a bit scared for the first time today. Duke’s brain felt too fuzzy to care “Signal, you’re freaking out, calm down, please”

Light assaulted their eyes the moment they were out. Before he got fully used to it, he set girl in front of him and detached her cape. She may have squawked at this action but he didn’t care. She was shot, he needed to check her for injuries.

She got shot, she got shot, she got shot-

“Signal what-” he was clearly freaking her out “Oh. You think I’m hurt. I told you I could handle it. I’m fine. Signal I’m really fine. I have intangibility, bullets can’t hurt me. I’m fine Signal”

Duke wanted to make sure. Adrenaline or simple wish to not worry him could make her ignore something. He couldn’t let her. He made her turn maybe a little to roughly.

He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if she bled out.

She was actually fine.

Relief hit him so strong he crumbled against the wall, his mind finally succumbing to the haze. It was fine. It was all actually fine.

He may have heard some yelling.

Next thing he registered was something tad too warm, almost burning his palms. His gloves did their job of protection well though. There was a herbal smell. Melissa, he registered after a moment. It took him some more time to realize that the source of the smell was in his hands. He had scathingly hot cup of melissa in his hands. He stared at a little bit squashed paper again trying to get used to the light. He didn’t even realize he closed his eyes. Sound of the paper bag made him look up where Dani, still without her cape, crouched few feet away from him.

“You back?” she asked cautiously. Duke wasn’t sure how to answer. He was and he wasn’t. His mouth didn’t work anyway. He shrugged, mindful of the cup in his hands. Blanket, he didn’t even know he was wrapped in, fell from one of his shoulders.

“I don’t know what happened but Jazz likes this tea when she needs to calm down. Though she usually needs to drink it to make it work,” Dani rambled, gesturing widely “You’re still breathing kinda funny, can you slow down? It’s not good for humans to breathe so fast. It doesn’t let good stuff from air get in your blood and travel around your body and it’s not healthy. I know, Jazz told me and she is really smart. She wants to be this doctor who stabs brain back into working. She had this smart word for it… Neurosurgeon, I think it’s this one. She said breathing like that is not good for brain so slow down? In for four, out for four? I don’t know, Signal, just calm down?”

Right, he still was hyperventilating. Duke focused on his lungs, forcing them to expand, trying to match up Dani’s slightly gasping breaths.

He really was freaking her out, wasn’t he?

Melissa was almost lukewarm by the time he was back in his body enough to drink it. It was sweet, a bit too much for his taste.

“You good now?” Dani asked and Duke nodded. He was as good as he could at the moment “Great, I didn’t want to leave you for too long so I don’t have BatBurger. I got cookies though. And I can go get it now”

“Don’t,” he caught her arm and squeezed, not sure why he did it himself.

“Huh?”

“Don’t go anywhere”

“Sure. Wanna cookie? I have chocolate chips and healthy, wheat ones”

“Chocolate”

“Okay” she nodded and fixed blanket on his arms. It was comfy. If Duke was firing on all cylinders, he would wonder where she got it.

“Don’t ever do it again”

“What is it though?”

“Jumping into danger like that”

“Oh, really? It wasn’t that dangerous, they were normal humans”

“They had Joker gas and guns”

“Intangibility means I can ignore bullets Signal, don’t be such worrywart. It’s bad for your health. What’s Joker gas?”

Question and the whole statement felt so surreal that Duke couldn’t help but laugh, choked and hysterical as it was. She didn’t know what Joker gas was. Worrying about her getting shot was bad for his health. He just had a panic attack and was comforted by a ten years old girl with cookies and melissa. What the fuck?

“Hey!” Dani pouted “Don’t laugh like that! Jazz always says that you shouldn’t laugh when someone doesn’t know something, just explain it to them! Signal!” she whined but the damn broke he couldn’t rear his hysteria back in “Alright, I’m Googling it”

She did as Duke’s laughter winded down. He was almost calm when she deemed her research enough.

“Alright, this is some nasty shit”

This sentence startled him into full silence. Dani was ten, swearing wasn’t something she did, like, ever. He must’ve scared her a lot.

“I’m fine though. I didn’t breathe it in. Did you? This laughter sounded a bit worrying to be honest”

“I’m okay, I had gas mask. People sometime laugh to release tension”

“Oh”

“Yeah. But you were in the building with it and didn’t have gas mask”

“I wasn’t breathing”

“You were talking”

“Our fucked up biology, as Danny likes to put it, means that one doesn’t mean another. I just don’t use it often because humans find it uncanny and my throat gets itchy after some time”

Something in Duke wanted to argue more but it was squashed but utter exhaustion that crashed him.

“Alright”

They sat for a long moment.

“Are you ready to patrol now?”

Duke would laugh again if he had any energy left.

“I think we should end for today. I would be useless like that”

“Okay, valid. You go home I’ll fly around a bit”

“No. You’re going home too. I don’t have enough emotional energy to worry about you getting into some mess like this again”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Dani looked away with angry huff.

“Okay. You’re worse than Danny, you know?”

“I don’t care. Go home and stay safe”

“You sure you will be alright if I go now? I can walk or fly you somewhere, not home if you don't want me to but maybe somewhere closer?”

“I’ll be fine. I can call my brother. Just go please”

“Sure. See you tomorrow, Signal. You were really brave today”

“Thank you, Hoopoe” If she answered, he didn’t hear her. He fumbled with his comm to turn it on with still shaky hands. Finally he managed and called a pick up in the form of Jason. It was great to have older brother who always had time like that. Even if it meant a lot of unnecessary questions about what happened Duke wasn’t up to answering it yet and threats of serious violence on his enemies.

Duke couldn't force himself to let go of the orange blanket. It was grounding.

Though Alfred made him hot chocolate with marshmallows. He wouldn’t repeat today for that, but it certainly was nice accent.

*********

"Humouristic" summary of this part

Dani: Yo, there are goons here. Gonna investigate.

Duke: *quietly freaks out*

Random Joker's goons: *do normal goon things*

Dani: *attacks them* HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Duke: Is this what minor heart attack feels like?

Goons: *start shooting*

Duke: Is this what major heart attack feels like?

Dani: Dude, you good? Here, get some tea, cookies and blanket

Dani, few hours later, texting: Hey Signal, remeber to bring back my cape tmrw

Duke, internally: Wait, this is her cape?

Duke, also texting: Wanna better one? Like Spoiler has?

Dani, somehow conveing Ghost Speak via text: Don't you dare

Thank you for reading this <3

Next part

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #dani hangs out with duke #signal got new sidekick and he doesn't even know it yet #well that's not true anymore #signal got new sidekick and he starts to accept it #i don't have anything “funny” to put in the tags for this part #sorry guys #vibes aren't right #heads up #next part won't be fun prone too #more hurt/comfort territory #but then were back to fluff and fun #hoopoe's cape-shock blanket #wandixx writes #ghost of fries and hero of cookies #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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esther-dot · 10 months

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Idk how attractive jon is supposed to be but he has the stark look and sansa has a thing for the stark look, i mean look at waymar and loras, their descriptions match jon's exactly. Sansa's opinion at the end of the day>>>

I love Sansa’s Waymar and Loras crushes! So cute! I kinda think a good part of what attracts Sansa to any given guy is the romantic notions she can attach to them, not strictly their physical appearance? So while I certainly agree with the Jon and Waymar parallels and think martin intentionally wrote similarities between Jon and her crushes, I believe her romanticized view of knight was a factor as well. Personally, I wish Martin talked about Sansa’s body/ how beautiful she is a lot less, so this isn't a topic I enjoy discussing, but the convo kicked off because of a poll and here’s a screenshot of my totally unremarkable tags:

And here’s what an angry Jon fan posted because they didn’t like the tags on the poll:

They go on to criticize other tags by Sansa fans/Jonsas, but mine were based on specific lines from the books because the question wasn’t vibes but canonical beauty, and it so happens, these are lines I am very fond of because I love NedCat:

And was it really such a terrible thing, to want a pretty wife? She remembered her own childish disappointment, the first time she had laid eyes on Eddard Stark. She had pictured him as a younger version of his brother Brandon, but that was wrong. Ned was shorter and plainer of face, and so somber. He spoke courteously enough, but beneath the words she sensed a coolness that was all at odds with Brandon, whose mirths had been as wild as his rages. Even when he took her maidenhood, their love had more of duty to it than of passion. We made Robb that night, though; we made a king together. And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's solemn face. (ASOS, Catelyn V)

It’s a beautiful passage with a lovely sentiment, so I take exception to classifying this as petty fandom shit when there was nothing intentionally insulting behind what I said, I just think Cat's thoughts about a man she dearly loves were pertinent. Also, Jon’s Stark looks are a big R+L=J clue which is teased a lot in AGOT so it’s intentional and important:

The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. Whoever his mother had been, she had left little of herself in her son. "What are you reading about?" he asked. (AGOT, Tyrion II)

Martin described Jon’s face the same way he does Ned’s here, although the point was ha ha! he has the Stark look not because of his father but because of his mother, Lyanna.

Jon had their father's face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. (AGOT, Arya I)

Arya heard and whirled around, glaring. "I don't care what you say, I'm going out riding." Her long horsey face got the stubborn look that meant she was going to do something willful. (AGOT, Sansa I)

Sansa could never understand how two sisters, born only two years apart, could be so different. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. (AGOT, Sansa I)

"Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her." (AGOT, Arya II)

Now, Ned goes on to say Lyanna is beautiful so a lot of fans really emphasize that and say it means Jon and Arya are/will be attractive, and maybe! It doesn't bother me for people to read it that way, but if you look at the other uses of long face in ASOIAF, or the Stark look, I think it indicates, it's not particularly attractive, and one might even say, it's unremarkable. I didn’t say ugly, its simply unexceptional imo. Obviously the horsey face/horse faced stuff is an insult so we don't have to take that to be a neutral assessment, but I don't think it actually means pretty either, not when you look at how it's used elsewhere.

Anyway, it doesn't matter if Jon is handsome or not because we all were supposed to have already learned that what matters is who he is, not his face. So, while I have no investment in how attractive/unattractive these characters are, I imagine that Jon being Jon is what will make Sansa fall for him, not how pretty he is. Something that might sound kinda like this:

I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's Jon's solemn face

#jonsa #nedcat #r+l=j #book jon #dot chat #discourse #< for filtering

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sayruq · 7 months

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Is the person who made that post about comparing the stark girls to their parents a hater? You and the other fans seem to be mad at them. Personally, I didn’t read anything malicious in the original post. But I can understand your reaction if it’s based on previous things they said.

I don't know them, I've never seen them before but you have to understand Arya stans have a long habit of working themselves into a fury over anything that we say about Sansa (or any other character but mostly Sansa). They live to micromanage our fandom and people's perception of Sansa.

If we spend a week discussing Sansa and tourneys, for example, by the following week they'll be in Sansa's tag going on about how tourneys are awful, how Sansa is so dumb for enjoying a national past time, and how she's wasting resources by organising one, nevermind that the whole point is to bring the Vale together and by doing this, many players in the Vale now know what she looks like, idk I think that could be important later on (like, say, if she ever needs an army).

How is comparing Sansa to her father a problem? How are we flattening both characters? I'd say the opposite is true. It brought a bigger spotlight on how Ned copes with trauma and Robert's behaviour because that's how Sansa deals with trauma and Joffrey. It showed how carefully GRRM has weaved that coping mechanism into both characters and how Sansa is slowly but surely working to overcome it so she can escape Ned's fate. And that's just one thing they both share, there are others.

The only reason OP and people who agree with them even care is because Sansa is the one being compared to Ned, not Arya, with the obvious implication that eventually Sansa will take on Ned's role as the ruler of the North.

#Anonymous #Sansa Stark #anti arya stans #song of ice and fire #sansa meta

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gendrie · 1 year

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what are your thoughts on arya and cat i mean just like their similarities and connection and reunion bc idk arya’s asos arc in particular drives me insane. the chapters AFTER the red wedding are some of the bleakest ive ever read. its so interesting how cat’s death haunts arya so much more significantly than the others. i also wonder what an AGOT interaction between them wouldve looked like and why george didnt include it if he knew stoneheart was gonna be a thing.

the fact that we don’t have an interaction between arya and catelyn on page (and never will!!!! lmao!!!!!) is truly one of my biggest gripes. esp bc it was so avoidable all grrm had to do was draw arya i out for a couple more pages and then we wouldve had at least one scene to serve as a counterpoint for arya and lsh’s meeting if nothing else. its even more frustrating bc we know in grrm’s earliest imagines of the asoiaf he intended for arya and catelyn to have a prominent relationship. they were supposed to go to KL, escape to WF, retreat to the wall and beyond it - together! i mean:

Ned will be accused of treason, but before he is taken he will help his wife and his daughter Arya escape back to Winterfell.

When Winterfell burns, Catelyn Stark will be forced to flee north with her son Bran and her daughter Arya.

Abandoned by the Night's Watch, Catelyn and her children will find their only hope of safety lies even further north, beyond the Wall, where they fall into the hands of Mance Rayder, the King-beyond-the-Wall, and get a dreadful glimpse of the inhuman others as they attack the wildling encampment. Bran's magic, Arya's sword Needle, and the savagery of their direwolves will help them survive, but their mother Catelyn will die at the hands of the others.

this is a significant amount of plot they shared. but things ran away from grrm, the story moved at a much faster pace than he anticipated, characters took on life’s of their own, the plot was tweaked here and there and everywhere, ect. in that process arya and catelyn got lost. they were “ripped apart” and then the opportunity to have them interact on page disappeared. in the end, they only had that tragically small window in agot (a mere 8 chapters?) before bran falls, catelyn has her breakdown and arya leaves winterfell. to his credit grrm is on record acknowledging this and regretting it [x].

so, we didn’t get that arya and catelyn interaction in her first chapter, but there is the line foreshadowing arya pulling catelyn’s body from the river via nymeria. even as the series was evolving that still made it on page bc catelyn becoming undead appears to be one of the oldest intact plots points. which is a major reason i am so convinced that arya and lady stoneheart have always been destined to meet.

but its everything. the red wedding most of all. told thru arya and catelyn’s alternating povs, mother/daughter, one inside and one outside, surrounded by this slaughter that will seemingly be the end of it all. catelyn not caring what happens to her if she can only save robb, arya’s “we have to get my mother.” (honestly, i don’t think the fandom even appreciates the fact that arya was literally at trw. like its the most horrific event in asoiaf that haunts the entire narrative mostly wrt the north and house stark and arya was there. she is one of the very few survivors.) the way it ends with arya and catelyn both losing consciousness - one killed, the other knocked out but......they both wake up.

arya’s reaction is the sum of everything pulling her down into the depths of depression. i think catelyn’s death being the hardest for arya to cope with is because she just wants her mother’s love and doesn’t think she has it. that hurts so bad. its like this open wound that can’t heal. which is why i neeeeed to read lady stoneheart’s monstrous undead hands touching arya’s face. she’s not catelyn anymore. catelyn stark was betrayed and murdered. but mother merciless’ last bit of humanity can be reached by the girl who was her daughter. its terrible and its beautiful and im going to cry about it. im really hung up on arya giving catelyn a proper funeral too. idk how realistic it is but regardless its high on my wishlist. like............please grrm.......the tullys drew their strength from the river and it was to the river they returned when their lives had run their course.

i could go on about the connection between arya and catelyn for a decade (oh wait, i have been lol) but this post is already long enough so i will just say i love the depth of feeling i get from both their characters and i like that they’re very active in the narrative - fighting for what matters most: family. thats the greatest similarity between them imo.

#asoiaf nonsense #ask #arya stark #catelyn stark #these are my thoughts today #but honestly tip of the iceberg #funfact: my very first asoiaf edit was an arya and catelyn picspam from 2012 lol

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martellspear · 3 months

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This a rant in its purest form.

It is just so convenient and dishonest to erase Rhaegar’s fault to what happened to Elia. And, as I will assume that Lyanna went willingly here, hers too. You can ship whatever you want, as gross as it is, that’s your problem, but it is ridiculous to turn your face away from what these two caused.

Tywin gave the order, but what caused the circumstances for that to be possible? I understand that if you’re a RL enjoyer you probably crafted your own version of the facts, but everything leads to Rhaegar’s obsession with the prophecy. He thought he would be the savior, then his children. Then, he didn’t want to push another pregnancy on Elia, meaning, from the context, he didn’t want her to die. He didn’t hate her as some make it seem, and if he did, that would be the last person I’d personally pair up with a character I say I like. If you hate one of the sweetest people to ever set foot on that hellhole that is Westeros, maybe the problem is you idk.

Tywin is to blame, of course, so is the Mountain. However, to say Rhaegar had nothing to do with it? PLEASE.

He is guilty not only for his family’s death but for Rickard and Brandon’s too. There were at least ten other routes they could’ve taken with this, love or not, but when their stans make up excuses for them, it just makes them seem beyond stupid. What do you mean they had no idea of what doing what they did would cause?

Also, while I am at it, wtf do you mean it’s wrong to call out prejudice against the dornish in Westeros? More than that, how can you say that when we have evidence and more evidence of how much these characters suffer in the hands of the court in spite of how high their station is? At least be honest. Like what you like but have the decency to recognize what is wrong with it.

The thing is, the second Elia, Rhaenys, Aegon, Rickard and Brandon’s deaths are acknowledged as a direct consequence and not casualties of war than it stops being a romantic love story and it becomes the story of two selfish people drowning in their own hypocrisy. “I want to save the realm” x dooming it and his family, bringing war and despair; and “I can’t be with someone who does not respect me as a wife” x running away with a married man and father of two. If those deaths are recognized, their perfect characters are no longer perfect nor victims of the circumstances inflicted upon them; they’re the catalyst of disaster instead.

Also, it will never fail to make me laugh that some believe a second marriage would happen and Rhaegar would still get to be king. The Faith is not allowing it, much less would the Martell simply accept this. But imagine a scenario where Elia and her babies still die, so do Lyanna’s father and brother.

How do you go on with a relationship like that knowing that it was you and your partner that caused all of this to happen? Benjen and Ned? What do they think of their sister, who appears to simply not care about what happened to their family? Rhaegar has only Viserys and Dany now, what does he tell them? Dragonstone will be forever haunted by the memory of Elia and Rhaenys to him; imagine him walking around the Red Keep and accidentally finding one of Aegon’s toys? And now all he has is a baby that’s not what he expected, there is no silver haired Visenya.

How long until another war breaks? The Baratheons are insulted, the Martells are insulted, the king is the Mad King’s son and was reckless enough to start a war, he can’t be trusted, and the Targaryens don’t have dragons anymore.

Anyway, I just wanted to get it off my system, I am not even sure this is coherent because my thoughts just kept popping up as I wrote.

#anti rhaegar x lyanna #anti rhaelya

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solittles · 3 months

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I’m so in love with your daemon au!! did you know swans mate for life? and I just know poor irving and fabienne have heard every single possible joke about swan lake/ballet in general. also I was looking at videos of swans and I knew they were big but I didn’t realize that like?? with their necks stretched out they can reach head height of a human being. absolutely terrifying. but also you can fit so much under a wingspan like that… I’m now imagining both cornelia and mirabelle deciding that the safest/warmest/etc place to be right now is under fabien’s wings 🥺

CRYING UWÄH <333 all of this is so important to me !! idk if they knew about swans mating for life back then, but if they did, fabienne would be so hurt by that. because john has always kept him on a distance due to him being male ;;

PLEASE, the swan lake talk is something hodge has brought up sooo many times 😔😔

g-d, i love that swans can be terrifying because of their size, because fabien is like. a very soft spoken and kind person. maybe a little square at times, but still. careful. doesn't make himself very big ever.. (maybe he did poof up and tried to be intimidating when jirving confronted hickey in episode three. hickey did get sort of intimidated by him!!!) but re: soft spokenness; maybe that's what your human ignoring and emotionally neglecting you for years because he's ashamed of u do to people 😭😭

SOBS..... Iimagine the three terror lieuts' daemons standing outside during sir john's funeral, and fabien spreads his wings to cover mirabel and cornelia (who's strapped to mirabel in a little pouch to her back) to protect them from the light snowfall that begins ;v; the same thing when the terror lieuts have meetings with croizer; sometimes ned just puts cornelia with mirabel and fabien on the couch in the captain's cabin, because cornelia can swear and cause a lot of ruckus during the meetings. mirabel is pretty disinterested in what the humans talk about, while fabien listens in, but has been told by john not to say anything. so mirabel curls up under fabien's wing, while cornelia loudly says "i'm cold, let me be your egg" and tries to crawl in under fabien's body (nedward sighs because why is his daemon so loud and embarrassing when she's so small physically....)

#thanks for this wonderful ask!!!!<3 #terror daemon #terror daemon: cornelia #terror daemon: mirabel #terror daemon: fabien

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cooltrainererika · 1 year

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Just watched the Hetalia musical!

It was fun, though I had no idea what was going on sometimes lol. It didn’t take itself completely seriously, and was good goofy fun.

If I had any complaints it would be the aforementioned at times confusing story. Or maybe that’s just because I couldn’t hear what everyone was singing half the time. The main story was about Japan being chosen to host an international festival, and trying to find what’s so unique about himself. And this somehow results in him falling back in time. There was this whole “Open the country, stop having it be closed” mini-arc that I didn’t know how it connected to the whole thing about Japan finding his uniqueness. They could have made it relevant; like maybe Japan has realized how unique he is and goes too far in the other direction, deciding that to preserve his culture he’s going to remain closed, and he has to learn that he needs his friends too, but from what I could gather that wasn’t what they were going for. Or maybe it was? Idk really.

Also man they flanderized Ame badly. He was a brute in this! Like he didn’t even care when Japan disappeared, WTF America??? That’s one of your best friends like??? Also Past!America was trying to prevent the Axis Stooges from returning to the present because… Reasons? Seriously Ame why are you such a jerk here?! Also I swear China was way more hyper in the opening scene than I’d ever expect him to be (Like there was a gag at the beginning where he and Italy were like “Uneasiness? Like the uneasiness of wanting to go to the bathroom oh no we forgot!” and run around goofily). Though that didn’t last long, and he appeared to act slightly like his old salty self, at least in the past, at least what I know of his old personality, after the fact. And Ned was way more cheerful, though that’s not a complaint. Also I kind of wish the JP fandom didn’t push the whole Axis thing still. …And they mistook tomatoes as being North American lmao. Those come from South America, writers!

As mentioned, the story was about Japan finding himself basically. It really was a story made for Japanese audiences and to pull at Japanese heartstrings lol. Also, the actors were really cute. Especially Japan and China. Man Japan was so smol. Though Ame and China’s voices were really jarring to me because wow they were low. Like I’m expecting them to be these tenors and then bam, I hear these goddamn baritone voices come out of their mouths. It’s not bad, just jarring and hard to get used to. Italy and Spain and England’s actors were clearly trying their best to match the anime though. And I remember saying Ame’s singing was… Eh in another Hetamyu clip I saw, but everyone was great here!

Also man the Netherlands fans were eating good tonight! On the other hand, as soon as the characters started talking about how “The world is uneasy recently” in the opening scene I immediately noticed the giant Russia-shaped hole in the cast. His lack of presence was pretty noticeable. Is it because of current events…?

I found it kind of funny that Past!China was like “You don’t have to copy me to the letter you know?” (and at one point quips something like “What is there to copy about me?”) because of how I write Imperial China and how Imperial China was in history, and I’m pretty sure it was the opposite in canon too lol. This was in response to how Japan basically goes the opposite direction of nationalism and is like “Being unique is too hard, imma copy China for the rest of my life”, which was also funny also because of how I write him (then again so was the entire central story of how he doesn’t know who he is and what’s so unique about himself).

But yeah it was a great time. Btw the climax involved past!China appearing out of nowhere and having an epic ping-pong battle with Japan. On Mt. Fuji. And Japan and the rest of the Axis trio are there because supposedly volcanic eruptions release enough energy to create wormholes. Because screw you it’s that type of show. I’m not complaining, that was awesome.

#Hetalia #hetalia musical #hetamyu #hws japan #hws italy #hws america #hws netherlands #hws china #hws england #hws france #hws germany #hws prussia

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lyssismagical · 10 months

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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.

#irondad #peter parker #may parker #aunt may #michelle jones #ned leeds #spider man #tony stark #iron man #lyss writes

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eruverse · 6 months

Text

Skimmed briefly thru Russian history to determine who’ve ever been Ivan’s lovers or fuckbuddies:

Verdick (subject to change)

Commentaries:

- Wow that’s such a brief list, 75% of humans are less pathetic than this and Ivan is like 1000 year old (yes I headcanon that Ivan’s lovers or fuckbuddies are really on the scarce end, he just has the vibe yknow)

- Francis is an understatement. I should look into it more deeply but this isn’t going to be contested. Anyway it was both fun and not fun, Ivan felt like a barn dog that was being forcefully domesticated.

- Yao (during Sino-Soviet alliance) is the only person Ivan has ever been married to. Funny that Yao is Ivan’s first husbando but Ivan is Yao’s… 73837382th. Ivan and Yao didn’t have the worst relationship but also def wasn’t the best. Their whole relationship goes back ONLY to the 17th century and it was meh, they are best behaved with each other in modern time only. Today they are plenty sweet but a bulk of that has the arrangey vibe they had during their short marriage decades ago. Most of it is still business.

- Alfred. I chose to not make them get together during USSR era simply bc it would be too schizo. At most they smooched (think of that famous pic with Soviet and American soldiers ahah) and thus their real relationship was in the 90s. There was real love, Ivan thought he could make it work, they could make it work, but alas, it ended up being the worst relationship Ivan has ever had (while for Alfred it was just disappointing for lots missed opportunities and potential. He never truly realized how much he fucked Ivan over btw. I have to say that not all of it is his fault ofc but he is also not not instrumental. And if there’s a choice between blaming Russians, Ivan’s own sons and daughters, and a foreigner, ofc Ivan would blame the foreigner especially one that is instrumental in it). Anyway, the 90s was fucked up for Ivan but it took him quite a long time to realize fr that they just simply can’t be together. That’s why, there wasn’t an exact breaking point no matter how fucked up he felt. It was just a gradual downspiral. At one point their bed became too stifling and depressing a place for Ivan.

There are WAY TOO MANY THINGS to talk abt their 90s relationship or the aftermath, but I’ll only talk abt one thing here: one reason Ivan is like. Salty abt the whole thing is because he showed Alfred like most, if not all, of his vulnerabilities and it wasn’t taken care of well. A betrayal to his very being. And other things. Ivan wasn’t only salty due to loss of power and influence in world stage but he basically had nothing to eat, difficult to not feel utterly humiliated and helpless when you couldn’t even fulfill ur basic needs. Any dignity of the self, gone. Anyway.

- Wow I didn’t even know Russia and Prussia had warmish relationship in empire era. Nice! During WW2 it was outright hateful but since it wasn’t all their relationship is I think it’d have progressed to be at least civil closer to modern time (also with Germany in general). I think Ivan’s relationship with Gilbert would be pretty cordial. Anw I’m hoping ppl would write more abt Ivan that’s not only being Soviet both in reality and mindset tho ahaha

- Ned: eh I’ve heard things. Ned will fuck whoever for business and Ivan liked him quite well.

- Serbia: one and only here means one and only TIME… but yeah. Most likely Serbia asked or offered. It was only once. Serbia still thinks about it. Anyway, it’s interesting that Serbia is older than Russia but still says that he’s totally the younger bro.

- Sadik: still contemplating. If it happened, it was def sorta hatesex. I need to look into this but I think there was a lot of fascination with each other also.

- Anyway I don’t think Ivan had any semblance of relationships with Soviet republics, and if he had, it was more of an isolated incident. Idk, I just think that as much as he obsessively keeps people close, he actually still keeps them at arm’s length. And Ivan hates looking vulnerable. The closer ppl are to him, actually the more restless and fearful he often feels.

- Also I don’t hc that he and Golden Horde had had a semblance of relationship (even forced one) bc… he was a kid and Golden Horde was too uninterested for things like that during that time. Much more amusing to chase little Vanya around.

- Need to look into his relationships with Nordics and Baltics but my interest in most things west of Russian border is really shot to hell. For now I don’t think any semblance of relationship had happened.

- Anyway, small hc: none of these guys took Ivan’s virginity as it was a human woman, or basically a human (I tend to think it was a woman tho). She lived nearby many centuries ago and Ivan still keeps tracks of her descendants and watches after them from afar sometimes, just like he watches over a lot of his people. Might or might not have a thing with the one and only Yekaterina.

#hetalia #aph russia #hws russia #aph america #hws america #aph france #hws france #aph china #hws china #god too many to tag im not gonna do it #my headcanon

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heliads · 2 years

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Tom!Peter x male reader. Peter gets sick and reader tries to juggle taking care of people and New York in peters absence as well as his standard superhero stuff

idk if you wanted reader to be a superhero also but i think it's so much more fun if reader is ordinary. enjoy!

masterlist

If anything were to take down New York City’s favorite hero, you didn’t think it was going to be something as simple as a respiratory infection. You’ve seen Peter Parker walk off bullets, fall from high places, and the occasional near-death bludgeoning, but this, a cough and a fever, is too much for him to ignore.

Technically, you suppose you shouldn’t be laughing. It’s, just, well, it’s really funny to see Peter, your impossibly untouchable Peter, barely able to move an inch because he’s so sick. After all the times Peter has made fun of you for suffering from allergies or not being able to easily recover from any injury like he can, this feels like karma. His pitifully thin voice doesn’t do him any favors, either. Love is expressed in its finest form by only referring to your boyfriend as a sick little Victorian era orphan about to die of consumption.

Yeah, Peter’s having a great time, to be sure. In your defense, you definitely are trying your best to take care of him. Peter’s bedridden in his room, occasionally shifting in the mounds of blankets that he alternates between tucking up to his chin and throwing off at a moment’s notice. May Parker is out for the moment, staying late to work again, but you’re here and that’s what matters.

Peter squeezes your hand feebly. “Y/N, if I don’t make it, I want you to have my stuff.”

You snort. “You’re going to be fine, Peter. This is just a bad cold.”

Peter closes his eyes dazedly. “I might die. If you’re going to be rude, though, I’ll rewrite my will so Ned gets my chemistry notes.”

You poke him in the shoulder, causing Peter to open his eyes blearily. “I take it all back. I’ll arrange the finest of burial services if it means I get your study guides. Quantum mechanics never makes half so much sense as when you’re explaining it to me.”

Peter eyes you balefully. “I wish I knew for sure that you loved me for me instead of for my chemistry knowledge. Tell a dying man sweet lies, would you?”

“I do love you besides chemistry,” you laugh, “or I wouldn’t have been here for hours on a weekend to sit by your side and listen to you sniffle endlessly.”

Peter smiles through the happy daze of having been constantly on DayQuil and NyQuil for the last forty hours at least. “You have been here. It was great. We watched The Great British Baking Show.”

You nod solemnly. “Bread week was brutal. No more brutal than that fever, though.”

Peter coughs weakly. “We should do this again sometime. Not the plague part, obviously, but the hanging out.”

You grimace. “Is this a sign that we don’t spend enough time together, that you’d wish for something like this on your deathbed?”

Peter flops a tired arm over his eyes. “I’m doing my best, alright? We’re busy people, and I get that, but I like spending time with you. Not when my head is going to split in half, though.”

You stand up to close the blinds, then flick off the lights. “You’re looking a little rough, Pete. How about you get some sleep? May told me that she’s planning on getting back in just a couple minutes. In fact,” you pause, listening to the jangle of keys in locks down the hall, “I think she’s here now. Yeah, get some rest.”

Peter reaches out a tired arm to you. “I don’t want to sleep. It’s the middle of the day.”

You roll your eyes but take the outstretched hand anyway. “You always want to sleep. Besides, look at yourself. You’re a few moments from unconsciousness. Just close your eyes for a few minutes, alright?”

Peter mumbles something under his breath about how that’s totally ridiculous and he’s wide awake, but does as told. You stay with him until you hear soft, phlegm-filled snores start to ricochet around the room, then gently pull your hand from Peter’s and slip out of the room.

May’s setting her bags down in the living room, and she smiles at you when she sees you approach. “How’s our contagion victim?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “He’s doing alright. Just fell asleep, actually.”

May nods. “Good, he needs it. You’re so sweet for watching him, Y/N. Peter couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. He’s always said it, and he’s right.”

You shrug, although you can feel your spine proudly straighten just a little bit when you hear May talk about how much Peter talks about you. “He makes it easy to love him.”

“Yes,” May says wistfully, “he does. Peter’s a good kid. Heaven knows he tries hard enough to make it work.”

“And he does,” you promise, “mostly because he’s got you in his corner. I’m going to head out, but please text me if you need anything. I’ll be over in a minute if necessary.”

May shakes her head, flapping her hand towards the door. “No, flee the infection zone while you can. You kids always have homework to do, don’t you? I don’t want you falling behind just because Peter’s sick.”

You laugh. “I’ll see you soon, May.”

She returns the farewell, and soon enough the door is shutting behind you as you head down the hall. May is right, there is homework you need to do, but there’s another task calling your name before you can even so much as think about calculus problem sets or chemistry notes to take. See, Peter is special not just because he’s the love of your life or a STEM whiz, he’s Spider-Man. Spider-Man can’t take breaks, even if the boy behind the mask feels like he’s on death’s door.

Truth be told, you think that’s what Peter is most worried about. You could see it written all over his face, how terrified he is to not be out patrolling the last few days. Peter has himself convinced that if he leaves the streets of New York alone for even a few rounds of twenty four hours, all the crime in the world will come crawling to his doorstep. If Spider-Man isn’t seen helping people, the thugs and criminals and carjackers will start thinking that it’s alright to come out again, and Peter can’t have that.

Neither can you. So, instead of taking the elevator down to street level, you press the button to go all the way up to the top. There’s a secret stuffed into your backpack, a red and blue suit that you’ve borrowed from your boyfriend. Peter clued you in to his secret identity a long time ago, so you’ve been able to help him with modifications to his Spider-Man suit for the last few iterations of the classic uniform.

This also means that you’re well versed in using it, especially the web shooters. If Peter Parker can’t take up the mantle of the friendly neighborhood hero, that just means someone else will have to step in for the time being, and you’re more than alright with doing just that if it means that burden disappears from your boyfriend’s shoulders while he’s so sick.

After all, it only feels right that someone should share in that grave responsibility. Spider-Man may be the city, but sometimes that means the city gets to be Spider-Man as well. The boy protects the streets, and the streets protect the boy. This is just you doing your part to thank the hero who risks his life for you every single night without fail.

You tug the mask over your face. You don’t know how Peter is able to casually don the suit every night– once you get it on, it feels claustrophobic, clinging to your every muscle and bone yet heavier than you’d thought it would be. Does it not drag him down with every step, reminding him how fragile he is to be a boy leaping from rooftops? Is this job not far too much for him to ever complete?

It must be done, however, so you do what Peter does and grin and bear it. You fire a few test shots of webbing from the gadgets at your wrists, but everything works as you remember. You’re not completely out of your mind– no backflips off of skyscrapers for you, no sir, but you can at least make the various goons and criminals think that Spider-Man wouldn’t take a day off for the world. Continue the ruse, that’s all you have to do.

You find your first job soon enough. An old lady is walking home late at night and someone runs by, liberating her of her purse when she’s distracted in pushing the pedestrian button at a crosswalk. You carefully swing down to that street and chase after the thief, firing a web at his feet to trip him up. Surprised, the thief rears around and throws a punch at you.

You’re not as fast as Peter and the punch lands. It’s a flailing hit and doesn’t have that much of an impact, but fiery lines of hurt still erupt across your shoulder. You grab the purse from the thief and race back to the old lady before much more fighting can happen. She thanks you quite happily. You’re glad to keep up Peter’s legacy of protecting those in need, but man, you are not that good at taking a hit. When you manage to make it back up to the roof, it’s much slower than before, and the ache of the blow doesn’t fade for quite some time.

It makes you wince to think about what Peter’s nights must be like. Sure, Peter has learned to fight since he first started out as Spider-Man, but he’s still just a kid, and there’s only so much you can do. Is this what Peter does every night, protecting the city at the risk of slowly killing himself through bruise after bruise? It makes you want to take up the mantle every single night, even if you’re worse at the job, just to ensure that Peter stays that much safer.

Thus the night continues in much of the same fashion. Thankfully, tonight seems to be a fairly quiet night, and you don’t see much action. This is good, as you’re barely able to do anything. You are just a student, not trained in combat and certainly not used to having to tackle criminals at a moment’s notice.

Peter has told you his usual Spider-Man schedule before, so you call it quits when the hours slip from late night to early morning. You’re called in at last by Peter texting you, asking if you’re in bed. He just wants a phone call, but you’re close to his apartment so you decide to just swing by anyway. Hey, Peter always does it to you, right? You always thought it would be fun to try it for yourself.

Unlike Peter, you’re not able to climb up the side of his apartment building to crawl inside his window, but the elevator does well enough for you. You change back into your regular street clothes before daring to step inside the building, but apparently that still isn’t enough to convince Peter that you’ve been up to normal person activities tonight, even if he’s in a haze due to his sickness.

You’ve barely taken a few steps into his room before Peter’s squinting at you. “Are you alright?” He asks, voice hoarse.

You shrug a bit too quickly. “Of course I am. Why would you ask that?”

In truth, you’re not entirely okay. You took a fair amount of hits tonight in your efforts to keep up the guard as Spider-Man, and they’re already starting to make themselves known. You’re limping a little, but you had tried to hide it when you came into Peter’s space. As usual, he sees through your best attempts to pretend you’re fine.

Peter reaches over to flick on his desk lamp and instantly sucks in a breath.

You wince. “That bad, huh?”

Peter stares at you, horror clouding his eyes. “Y/N, what happened? You’re covered in bruises.”

You can see the self judgements appearing in Peter’s mind, a thousand ways to blame himself for what happened. You hold up a hand hurriedly, trying to stave away Peter’s guilt before it swallows him completely.

“This isn’t your fault, Peter. Trust me, I made this choice. I know you were stressed about not being able to be Spider-Man these last few nights because you were sick, so I wanted to make sure somebody could do it for you. I might not be the best at fighting, obviously, but it worked. The city still thinks you’re fine. It’s alright.”

Peter stares at you for a few seconds longer, then breaks into the most wonderful smile you’ve ever seen. “You did that for me? You went out on patrol for me?”

You grin. “Of course I did, Peter. I don’t want you to be focusing on anything but your own recovery. I’m not half the crime fighter you are, but it did the job.”

Peter holds out an arm to you, and you crawl into his bed, letting Peter pull you into a hug.

Face tucked against the top of your head, Peter speaks. “I don’t know about that. I think you’re my hero.”

You laugh. “As if. You’re the superhero, Peter. You always have been.”

Peter shrugs, the movement making you shift with him. “Every hero needs a hero. You can be mine.”

The two of you continue in that way for a while, both quiet, both happy, and then Peter continues. “I think we both need a good night’s rest, though. Stay the night?”

“Of course,” you whisper back, and you can feel Peter smile against the top of your head.

He has one last thought before the two of you drift off to sleep: “You’re definitely going to be sick after this, though. Like, there’s no way you’re not getting my germs now.”

“Oh, I am,” you laugh, “no doubt about that. It just means I’m going to make you take care of me after this.”

“I have no problem with that,” Peter murmurs.

It’s easy to let your eyes close after that, to let unconsciousness pull you under and paint you a dream-world in which you have a boy who loves you unconditionally. It is the very world in which you exist right now.

marvel tag list: @namoreno, @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @caswinchester2000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43

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