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olivetreehugger · 3 years

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SnK Scouts/Veterans as Health Care Workers

Note: features Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Levi, Erwin and Hange. A part two to my “SnK Warriors as HCWs” post found here. warning: mentions of blood, trauma, gore (it’s healthcare). Also, I know Hange is nb, I headcanon them as female, so I will be using she/her pronouns.

Eren: this boy is definitely too involved in everything and has too many people depending on him at once to not be a nurse. The kid barely passed the NCLEX but that didn’t stop him from applying to every trauma center within a 25 mile radius of him. He got hired as a night shift trauma ICU nurse and he frequently picks up shifts in the ER. He wears the cheapest scrubs he can find, often stained with ink in the pockets area. He isn’t a shitty nurse per se but there are tasks that still need to be done at the end of his shift and he gives a crappy report that’s missing too many details. Nurses hate picking up his patients, it’s always a mess. His charting is really spotty and he gets called into the manager’s office all the time to fix it.

Still, he tries really hard to improve his time management and skills. He wants to be like his friends Mikasa and Reiner, who are the best nurses he knows. He wants to be involved in the traumatic cases and emergencies because he wants to learn as much as he possibly can. He’s really good at wound care, for some reason (hint hint). He’s kinda cocky sometimes too, which can be troublesome when Dr. Galliard is working. People know to steer clear of those two when they’re both in the ER. Also, Eren always has a black cloud around him; whenever he works it’s gonna be a hella busy day in the hospital. Lots of emergency surgeries, intubations, codes and deaths. He’ll always jump in to help you if your patient is crashing, though, no matter how busy he is.

Mikasa: she’s a prodigy. She was a straight ‘A’ student in nursing school, got a perfect 75 on the NCLEX and was immediately hired to the trauma ICU after doing a short internship there. She worked night shift for a year but her sleep schedule was so so fucked she started having night terrors, so she switched to day shift. Eren still calls her a traitor for it :/. She keeps trying to get him to switch over but he just hisses at her and threatens to chug a case of Monster energy drinks. She hasn’t given upon him yet, though.

This girl’s work ethic is beyond measure. She comes in exactly at 6:30 am, looks up her patients, takes report, gives a great update to the doctors when they round, and provides impeccable care to her patients. She knows exactly which treatments the doctors will order before they even speak. She’s incredible at inserting IVs--everyone in the hospital knows Mikasa Ackerman can put an 18g in a 90 yr old lady’s arm AND get blood return (just trust me, it’s flipping impossible). She has great skill when it comes to emergency situations and is a big believer in team work. If she notices your patient’s crashing and you don’t know what to do, she’ll calmly coach you and save your patient, too. All before lunch time.

It doesn’t take Mikasa long to be promoted to charge nurse. When she’s in charge all the reports, paperwork and audits are completed before shift change. She divides the patient assignments really well and is very fair to the new grads. All around she’s an incredible nurse and leader on her unit, but don’t be fooled. If it’s been a rough day, Mikasa will get in her car and sob so loud her throat goes raw. A lot of people depend on her and working in a trauma ICU is really, really demanding. A lot of patients are demanding, rude and busy. She has a lot of trouble with stress management and is thinking of cutting her hours down so she can catch a break. Someone please hug her <3

Armin: for some reason my brain is just SCREAMING respiratory therapist. Like, I imagine this beautiful blond boy in gray scrubs (the color for RT’s in my hospital) going around helping intubate patients, giving nebulizer treatments and doing blood gases. I can just see him huffing and puffing when the attending doctor is overzealous about weaning vent support. -“Why are we changing the patient to pressure support? do you see how tachypneic he is on volume control?”

-“are you gonna put in the order? if not, your patient’s gonna be on PRVC all day, I’m not changing it without an order”

-“Doc, the patient looks like crap and their blood gas looks like death...oh, you still wanna extubate? ok, well I’m gonna leave the ventilator in here just in case. better yet, let me call a pastor in here, too.”

This kid is sassy af and he knows it. He’s smart af too, knows everything there is to know about the lungs and respiratory care. Knows every ventilator mode better than most doctors. Will certainly tell a resident off for ordering the wrong type of inhaler for a patient. He’s so damn intelligent that he even made the ice queen Annie melt like a popsicle.

He has no chill when it comes to his patients and even less chill (like -4078875874670) when a doctor gets in his way. For this reason, Armin has recently been toying with the idea of going to PA school so he can have a little more autonomy. He works al over the hospital, usually frequenting the trauma, CV, and medical ICU. The nurses there love him.

Jean: Jeannie boy. Baby. Sweetie. He’s also a nurse. He is strictly dayshift and trauma. When he first started, he thought he’d do a year in the ICU and then go to CRNA school. He didn’t want to be around sickly patients with hopes and dreams and fears--it was too icky for him. But, over time, he learned that he LOVED trauma. Jean loves the controlled chaos that comes with the ugly, bloody messes that roll in through the ICU’s doors. He always gears up for trauma season (summer time) by bringing Dunkin Donuts iced coffee for everyone on the unit (day and night shift because he’s a supportive king). He gets really good at dealing with arrogant trauma residents and ortho docs who think they’re hot shit. When Jean sees a resident yelling at a nurse, he jumps in and threatens to have their license revoked. He will dig under their skin and page them incessantly throughout the day, too, just to get back at them. Jean is not a fan of lateral violence in the workplace, no sir.

He always, always makes sure every room is stocked and new bags are hanging for the next shift. He has a thing where if things aren’t properly organized on the unit his brain just spazzes. He’s on the unit council and education committee because he also loves to teach the new grads. He also doubles as charge nurse, when management can’t be there (there can be one or more charge nurses amongst the staff, they usually work different days, though) He and Mikasa work so well together, teaming up to get tasks done, coding patients, running them down to get scanned, etc. People joke they’re the mom and dad of the unit. It makes them both blush <3 (Eren doesn’t like it, lol)

Jean loves to see patients healing from horrendous injuries, he’s constantly cracking jokes with the awake patients to try to make them feel better, and he’s really good at calming anxious family members down. Our boy just makes such good connections with people. He’s the guy you call when your confused patient is one second away from ripping his breathing tube out. He can convince the most restless, agitated patient to chill out. He’s got the voice for it. Also people love his mullet. It looks great.

Connie: I really didn’t know at first but I feel like Connie would make a great physical therapist. He’s got great energy, he’s funny and I could see him dancing to Earth, Wind & Fire in front of his patients to hype them up for therapy. He’d be very sweet with them

Sasha: I’m sick and tired of the food jokes, quite honestly. She’s more than that. In my mind, she’s an occupational therapist, helping disabled patients learn to feed, dress and clean themselves again. She works directly with Connie as they round on all their patients in the hospital, they make a great team! She’s extremely patient and would make a very good nurse, but is unsure of where life is taking her. That is until she meets Niccolo the dietician in the cafeteria, and she falls hard. He encourages her to follow her heart and she does!

Levi: Hm. This one stumped me. Levi is a bit...cold. It’s not like he has incredible social skills. He’s meticulous and focused and kinda mean? He reminds me of an anesthesiologist, tbh. Like he’ll sedate the shit outta you for surgery, makes sure you don’t die on the table, and then drops you off to the unit as fast as he can. He never takes off his mask while in the hospital and he scrubs maybe four times before surgery. He is very good at medication calculations and knows everything about nerve blocks, intubation, pain medication and sedation. He can look at a person and just KNOW what kind of sedative to give and how much. Your blood pressure will never bottom out while he’s there, he’ll warn the surgeon and immediately get that norepinephrine started.

If Zeke is the one operating, Levi is on his ass to finish up the surgery ASAP and to not linger, because Zeke takes his time and ignores the tele monitor alarming in the background. After surgery, this 5′2 demon will scream at the 6′ resident about the importance of blood pressure management and sedation in neurosurgical patients. Levi plays no games and he also just really hates Zeke lol

He seems like a jerk but genuinely cares about getting his peeps through surgery. His favorite surgeon to work with is Hange Zoe, because she’s brilliant and fast, but also cognizant of her patient’s hemodynamics. Levi likes taking trauma cases as long as it’s with her. When he drops a patient off to the trauma ICU or goes there to intubate, he makes sure Jean or Mikasa are there because he knows everything is gonna go smoothly. He trusts them a lot. He likes Armin, too and even let him intubate a few times. On his breaks, he’s drinking tea and reading a Williams & Sonoma catalog or scrolling through cleaning Tik Tok lol.

Erwin: This man. This beautiful and hunky beefcake. Omg. I HC him as someone who went to nursing school, became a charge nurse on the trauma unit back in the early 2000′s and fell in love with it. Erwin would eventually fall in love with leadership and educating, too. He went back to school and earned his Doctorate of Nursing Practice (a practice doctorate). He managed the trauma unit for ten years before his brilliant leadership skills and wicked smart brain got him elected as the Director of Trauma Surgery recently. He is the first person with a nursing degree and DNP to ever accomplish this, so it’s very controversial. A lot of toxic doctors threaten to leave the hospital for this (because they’re assholes), but Erwin threatens to fire them in response and it usually shuts them up.

He often holds lectures in the hospital auditorium. With a mind and voice like his, people are so drawn in by him. He advocates for nursing staff, for reimbursement when continuing their education, better staffing, parking, etc. He makes nice with doctors and gets them to sign petitions for the nurses to get these things. He’s a bit manipulative He’s also a fantastic manager and director, he’s really good at negotiating things. The nurses and residents all love him because he rounds on every ICU frequently, brings food, and asks them how he can help. He can be a bit daunting because of his height and deep voice but once he starts talking to you, you just get sucked in. All around an absolute king.

Hange: This character reminds me of a trauma surgeon and intensivist (ICU doctor) we have, Dr. Omi. A great surgeon, really really smart, but takes absolutely NO bullshit. She will yell at you if you freeze during intubating. She wants you to recite every step before you take it, otherwise she’ll take the tube from you and do it herself. In surgery, she’s the same way. She wants you to learn, but by her standards. If she asks a question, you better know the answer or fess up right away, she doesn’t like the “uhms” of uncertainty as you try to search for a shitty response. Either you know it or you don’t. And if you don’t, she’ll teach you. Yeah she can be rough around the edges, but she’s got a big heart. She loves her trauma team. She buys them breakfast and gives them funny personalized gifts. One time, she bought an apply tree for Mikasa and brought it to her car at the end of a shift. Mikasa forgot to plant it and it died in her backseat. Hange will sometimes ask, “Mikasa, how’s your apple tree growing?” and Mikasa will lie through her teeth. “It’s growing!” Fess up, Mikasa. Those google search apple trees are starting to look familiar.

All around Hange loves to work and teach. She is a wonderful trauma surgeon and has saved tons of lives.

#snk headcanons #attack on titan #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirstein #connie springer #sasha braus #levi ackerman #erwin smith #hange zoe #lama writes

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mikauzoran · 3 years

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Marichat/Adrienette: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Thirty-Eight

Read it on AO3: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...because they’re running out of time.

It was bad.

It had been an honest mistake, a simple oversight, but Marinette was now regretting it immensely as an akumatized Adrien fangirl tore the roof off the Gabriel warehouse where Marinette was doing her summer internship like the lid of a soup can.

Two days previously, Chat Noir had rescued Marinette when she got caught in the crossfire of the latest Gabriel Agreste-caused akuma attack. Unthinkingly, Marinette had rung his bell, called him her hero in a flirty, saccharine tone, and kissed him on the cheek.

One of the other interns (Marinette’s rival Benoit) had gotten it all on tape as he took cover behind a clothes rack and posted the video online, the sniveling coward.

Of course, Adrien’s rabid fans were now calling for Marinette’s head on a platter despite Adrien’s insistences that Marinette was not cheating on him.

Clearly this fangirl was a little slow on the uptake if she’d only found out about and gotten akumatized over the quote-unquote “scandal” just then.

“You!” the akuma (Marinette hadn’t gotten her name yet) shrieked like a banshee as she pointed threateningly at Marinette, flapping her harpy-like wings as she slowly descended. “I’ll show you, you little hussy! The penalty for breaking Adrien’s heart is death!”

Marinette groaned, standing her ground and letting herself be a sitting duck to keep the akuma’s attention while the rest of her coworkers fled to safety.

“News flash!” Chat Noir growled as he leapt through the hole in the roof the fury had created, bashing the akuma over the head with his baton like a baseball bat on his way down.

He landed in a crouch in front of Marinette, putting himself between her and the monster. “Adrien’s heart isn’t broken, and he’s pissed that you’re harassing his girlfriend,” Chat snapped as he rose to his full height, teeth bared.

Marinette mentally noted that her boyfriend was really hot when he was worked up over protecting her.

The fury recovered from Chat’s little love-tap faster than expected, hissing like a feral cat as she dropped to the ground, denting the warehouse floor with her clawed, bird-like feet.

“You and your lover will die!” the akuma screeched, pulling a cartoonish gun-apparatus off her shoulder holster and firing it at them.

Acting on instinct, Chat dove at Marinette, pushing her to the ground.

Unfortunately, it was a net gun, and the resulting net got a two-for-one special, trapping both Marinette and Chat Noir in one shot.

The harpy akuma cackled, slowly advancing on her prey. “I will sacrifice you both to Adrien, and then he will realize his love for me!”

“Hate to break it to you,” Chat grumbled as he and Marinette struggled to free themselves and only wound up making it worse. “but Adrien’s ninety percent vegetarian, and he frowns on human sacrifice.”

Checking to make sure Marinette was clear of his right hand, Chat shouted, “Cataclysm!”, and the rope trapping them dissolved away.

“Run!” Marinette yelped, half pulling him to his feet as they took off.

The akuma screamed in anger, folding her wings and giving chase much faster than a bird of prey that large should have been able to on land.

“We need somewhere you can hide while I lead her away,” Chat panted as they raced down evacuated hallways.

“Storage closet,” Marinette agreed, spinning on her heel and going back three doors to where they kept bolts of the three dozen hues of chiffon regularly used at Gabriel.

Just as Marinette managed to yank open the storage room door, the fury rounded the corner and shrieked, “There you are!”

She dove at them, snatching them up in her talons and tossing them into the closet together.

They landed with a thud, bolts of fabric raining down around them.

“Stay put,” the akuma commanded, shutting them in and piling debris up outside the door to make sure that they couldn’t escape. “I have to go get Adrien so he can watch your demise.”

And, with that, the girl flew off to find her idol, certain that her prey would still be right where she’d left them when she returned.

“Marinette? Are you okay? Did she hurt you?” Chat called desperately as he dug himself out of the fabric pile.

“I’m good,” Marinette groaned, shoving the blots of chiffon off of herself. “I’m probably going to be nursing some bruises later, but nothing’s broken or bleeding.”

Chat sighed in relief as he made his way over to her, helping to clear away the last of the fabric before assisting her to her feet. “Thank goodness,” he whispered, pulling her in for a gentle hug. “I kind of flipped when I saw that harpy monster on the news announcing her manifesto to put you to death.”

“My phone is in my purse in my locker, so I didn’t hear the akuma alert,” Marinette sighed, thinking, not for the first time, that she needed to come up with a way to stay on top of akuma notices even while at work because this was becoming a problem.

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” he sighed, nuzzling her hair. “I was really scared.”

He shuddered even as he held her. His first thought had been of Marinette’s lifeless body being presented to him by the akuma, and that was quickly followed up by the terrifying thought that if Marinette was gone, there would be no Ladybug to restore her to him.

“You’re still freaking out, aren’t you?” Marinette realized, wrapping her arms around him tighter and nuzzling him back.

He nodded. “I couldn’t live without you. It would break me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. “We’re going to get out of here, and then you and Ladybug are going to purify the akuma. Everything is going to be fine.”

He took a deep inhale of her scent, letting it calm him.

“Right,” he breathed. “You’re right. Everything’s going to be fine.”

She held him a little longer until his breathing evened out, and then she pulled back, giving him an encouraging smile. “Are you ready to get us out of here, My Love?”

He returned her smile weakly and nodded. “On it.”

“I’m honestly worried about Adrien,” Marinette sighed as Chat Noir squared off against the door. “He’s probably going out of his mind worrying about the both of us. You and Ladybug need to stop Harpy Lady before she abducts poor Adrien.”

“Won’t be a problem,” Chat assured, raising his right hand and calling out, “Cataclysm!”

Nothing happened.

Marinette and Chat frowned in tandem.

“Not enough juice for a second Cataclysm today?” Marinette hummed.

Frankly, she was impressed with how his abilities had grown over the years. It was a little unpredictable, and it changed from one fight to the next, but sometimes he could get off two or three Cataclysms before having to detransform, and the five-minute timer no longer seemed to apply to him.

Ladybug’s powers, on the other hand, hadn’t seemed to improve or grow at all. She still got one Lucky Charm and then detransformed five minutes later.

She’d asked Tikki about it, but that hadn’t gotten them anywhere. Tikki thought maybe Marinette’s stress was limiting her growth.

Marinette couldn’t bring herself to be amused by the irony.

Chat Noir’s ring began to beep in warning, causing the hero to groan. “Plagg, it hasn’t even been ten minutes. What the heck?”

“Has he not been feeling well?” Marinette inquired, a deep frown of concern etching itself into her brow.

Chat shook his head. “He’s been his same old annoying, cheese-eating self. I don’t know. Maybe I’m the problem. I am kind of off my game because an akuma is trying to kill the woman I love.”

Marinette grinned, stepping in to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. “Aww. That’s kind of romantic.”

“It’s kind of annoying,” he laughed self-deprecatingly. “Unfortunately, this is my reality.”

She stepped back with an affectionate smile and turned to face away from him, closing her eyes and covering them with her hands. “Go ahead and detransform. I won’t look while Plagg recharges.”

He pressed his lips together, considering as his ring gave another beep.

“I promise I’ll keep my eyes shut,” she insisted, misinterpreting the cause of his hesitation.

He dropped his transformation and tossed Plagg a piece of Camembert.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped in, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend from behind.

She jumped, startled at the contact at first, but then settled back against him, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin on hers. She usually only got so much skin-on-skin contact during intimate moments, and the sensation now lit little flickers in her stomach.

“I love you,” he whispered into her shoulder, pressing kisses like a flower chain up her neck.

“Love you too,” she giggled, hoping Plagg would take his time with the cheese.

“Marinette?” he called tentatively.

“Hm?”

“I love you, and I can’t keep doing this anymore,” he confessed, making her suddenly go rigid as all of the happy, warm feelings vanished.

She swallowed hard. “W-What do you mean?”

“Keeping secrets from you. Lying to you,” he explained, nuzzling her neck and pulling her closer, his hand on her stomach.

“What exactly are you lying about?” she found the words to ask even as they stuck in her throat.

“Who I am,” he sighed. “I can’t do it anymore. I need you to open your eyes and look at me. I need you to know who I am because we’ve been dating a year and a half, and I’ve let this farce go on far too long.”

“Chat Noir, no,” she stressed, pressing the heels of her hands harder to her face. “I can’t know. We’ve been over this many, many times. It’s not safe while Papillon is still at large.”

“Marinette, all the things you’re afraid of aren’t going to happen,” he sighed in frustration. “I know you’re scared, and I’m not saying your fears are unfounded, but…Papillon doesn’t seem to be going away any time soon, and I cannot keep up this act for another month, let alone another year or more. I’ve always respected your wishes because I didn’t want to force this huge burden on you without your consent…but we’ve passed the point of ridiculousness, and I need you to know now. I can’t hide this any longer. I won’t.”

“Minou, don’t be unreasonable,” Marinette coaxed. “I…It’s not safe.”

He turned her around to face him and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Open your eyes and look at me, or I’m breaking up with you.”

Her body gave a jerk, and her mouth fell open in a silent gasp of shock at his harsh words and no-nonsense tone.

“Please,” he returned to pleading, taking her hands and gently pulling them from her still-closed eyes. “Please,” he whispered against her lips, giving them a desperate kiss.

“Please,” he repeated in a tearful, strained voice, getting down on his knees, pressing his face to her stomach and giving it a nuzzle. “Please, look at me.”

He sat back on his heels, looking up at her plaintively, giving her hands an entreating squeeze. “Please, Marinette?”

Her lips were quivering as tears slowly trickled down her cheeks. Her hands too were shaking even as he held them.

Gradually, her eyelids did part, and her gaze came to rest squarely on Adrien Agreste, a supplicant mess at her feet.

She pulled back, falling over backwards as her hands went to cover her mouth.

“A-Adrien?!”

“I’m so sorry,” he rushed to get out. “You didn’t want me to tell you, and then things got so messed up that I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry, Marinette. I’m so, so sorry.”

But she didn’t hear him. She was too busy panicking and shaking her head and trying to come up with reasons why what she was seeing couldn’t be true.

“—No,” she finally responded, cutting him off as he babbled apologies and tried to explain himself. “No,” she laughed just on the right side of maniacal. “I’ve seen you two together. I’ve made out with the both of you. I’ve seen the both of you making out with each other!” she accused, desperate to keep her understanding of reality in one piece.

He shook his head and replied in a very small, brittle voice, “Fox Miraculous.”

She blinked at him, not comprehending.

He gulped and tried again. “I used the Fox Miraculous to create a doppelgänger.”

She stared at him, hurt and betrayal flooding her senses. “You…used the Fox Miraculous…on me?”

Adrien visibly shrank, his shoulders rising up to his ears as he responded with the smallest, most timid of nods. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I…” He trailed off as she shook her head, her eyes cutting into him with the depth of their hurt and anger.

“How could you?” she asked quietly, calmly, leaving him wishing that she would just yell and get it over with.

He had nothing to say for himself.

He didn’t think she’d react well to “How could I not?” or “What else was I supposed to do?”

So he didn’t say anything. He just sat there, looking at her penitently, waiting for her to get to the part where she forgave him and told him it was okay. He waited for her to say she still loved him.

He wondered if he should say it first.

That didn’t feel right, though. He knew he still loved her, but he wasn’t so sure that she still loved him. He wasn’t good at fights. When his parents fought, they sometimes didn’t speak for days or weeks afterwards. Adrien had never gotten to see how those fights were resolved, how couples made up.

When Adrien got in trouble with his father, the usual protocol was for Adrien to stand still and take whatever verbal abuse his father threw at him until Adrien was dismissed.

He wondered if that’s what he was supposed to do now. Though Marinette seemed to be done talking. She seemed to be waiting for Adrien to say something.

Adrien had no idea what that something was. He didn’t usually get a turn to speak when his father took him to task.

He’d seen Alya and Nino argue about little things from time to time. They usually apologized, kissed, and made up…but Marinette didn’t look like she wanted a kiss.

“Well?” she asked, voice emotionless…like his father’s.

Marinette wasn’t supposed to make him feel like his father did.

Adrien looked for Plagg, hoping his kwami might offer some assistance, but Plagg was nowhere to be seen.

Adrien was on his own, feeling very tiny, stupid, and not good enough.

“I’m…sorry,” he tried miserably. “I love you.”

She stared back at him and sighed, shaking her head as she got to her feet.

Was she breaking up with him? Did her shaking her head mean that she didn’t love him?

The only thing he truly understood was the disappointment on her face. He was very, very familiar with disappointment.

“We’re wasting time,” she decreed, scrubbing at her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. We’ll have to talk about this later. I’ll come over to your apartment. Right now, there’s an akuma to fight, and you need to get us out of here.”

“R-Right,” he readily agreed, pushing himself up on shaky legs.

He tried to focus on the task at hand and not let himself think about losing Marinette’s love forever.

“Plagg?” he called, uncertainly.

The little deity flew out from behind a stack of chiffon and came up to nuzzle Adrien’s cheek.

The affectionate gesture almost made Adrien cry, it meant so much to him.

“Thanks,” he whispered in heartfelt appreciation before calling on his transformation.

Once the storage closet door and the pile of rubble blocking it was Cataclysmed away, Marinette was on the move, tossing an, “I’m going to find somewhere safe to hide. I’ll drop by your apartment after the attack,” over her shoulder as she went.

He tried to tell himself that her cold, distant behaviour was the result of shock. She was dealing with a lot of emotions, and maybe springing a reveal on her during an akuma attack where the akuma was trying to kill her hadn’t been the best timing.

He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t him. It was just Marinette panicking because that’s what Marinette did.

Somehow, those thoughts didn’t make him feel any less miserable.

The akuma was purified, and, while that was all that truly mattered at the end of the day, the battle had been a clown fiesta that surely left Paris wondering what was wrong with its heroes.

They were a mess. Chat Noir and Ladybug were horribly out of sync, tripping each other up, misreading signals, and getting thrown all over one another by the harpy lady.

Everyone was just happy that they’d somehow pulled it off regardless.

No fist bumps were exchanged at the end of the battle.

This was a little disheartening because Adrien took it to mean that Marinette was so upset with him that she’d forgotten or didn’t care that Ladybug shouldn’t be behaving coldly toward Chat Noir because he wasn’t supposed to know that Marinette and Ladybug were the same person.

Adrien collapsed on his bed, arms spread wide as he let out a long, bone-weary sigh. “Today is the worst.”

Plagg came over and settled on Adrien’s chest, giving his ward a nuzzle and a comforting purr. “At least nobody died,” he offered.

Adrien groaned, throwing an arm over his face as tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes. “I’m such an idiot.”

Trixx poked his head out of Adrien’s right shoulder and flew up to stroke Adrien’s hair. “You’re not an idiot,” he cooed, trying to be helpful.

Usually he left these kinds of interactions to Plagg who knew Adrien better and was, therefore, better suited to providing comfort. Today’s confrontation with Marinette in the storage closet had been particularly intense, though. Trixx could feel the way Adrien’s body had shaken and tensed and braced to be struck. Trixx could smell the stress hormones Adrien gave off, and he could tell that his holder needed more comfort than usual.

“I’m sorry Plagg and I didn’t give you the best guidance,” he whispered his regret. “We didn’t help you handle the situation well.”

Plagg snorted, stopping mid-nuzzle to look up and glare at Trixx. “We didn’t do anything wrong. This is all on Tikki. It’s her fault for filling her girl’s head so full of horror stories of identity reveals that went wrong in the past. It’s Tikki’s fault we got to this point. She knew Adrien and Chat Noir were the same person. She should have said something, told her girl it was okay to lighten up.”

Trixx couldn’t help but think that it was rather ungenerous of him to throw his other half under the bus like that. He would have thought that Plagg would show more loyalty to Tikki. On the other hand, Plagg’s kitten was suffering and had been suffering for quite some time, as the Adrichat charade had been going on for about a year at that point.

Plagg turned back to Adrien, insisting, “Kid, you know this isn’t your fault, right? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t really do anything right either,” Adrien mumbled despondently.

Trixx kept petting Adrien’s hair in the absence of anything more helpful to do.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Plagg coaxed.

Adrien only sighed in response. “…Are we broken up now, do you think? I’m not good at fights. That felt like a pretty big fight.”

“That’s not what I took away from the encounter,” Trixx offered, mentally crossing his fingers that his understanding of human interactions aligned with the reality of the situation.

“Kid, no,” Plagg assured, going back to nuzzling. “She’s just upset. She’s not dumping you. She said she’d be by to talk it over later, so—”

“—So she can dump me officially?” Adrien groaned.

“I believe this is what that therapist person we saw the other day referred to as the cognitive distortion of ‘catastrophizing’,” Trixx remarked, trying to be helpful.

“What the fox said,” Plagg seconded. “You’re doing that catastrophe thing. Stop that and go into your talk with your girlfriend with an open mind. Maybe she’ll scream at Tikki first and get all of her anger worked out before she comes here, so she’ll be able to think clearly and see that this is all her own fault.”

Adrien took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah,” he replied half-heartedly. “Maybe.”

He felt bad for hoping that Marinette yelled at Tikki because, deep down, he knew he was in the wrong too, but he had a feeling that Tikki could withstand Marinette’s anger better than Adrien could.

“Just try to stay calm,” Trixx coached. “We’ll deal with whatever happens when it happens, so there’s no point in worrying about it now.”

“Okay,” Adrien mumbled, trying to focus on his breathing and the comforting caresses of his kwamis.

Adrien woke to muffled voices coming from the main room about two hours later. Trixx was still curled up beside him, his head resting on Adrien’s shoulder, but Plagg was nowhere to be seen.

Adrien wiped the crusty debris from the corners of his eyes and sat up, trying to make out to whom the voices belonged. He rolled off the bed and onto his feet, going to investigate.

He found Plagg and Marinette in the main room of the apartment, hissing at each other in hushed tones.

Her complexion was splotchy, and her eyes were red. She looked a mess, but his heart still leapt for her.

Sensing their audience, Plagg and Marinette looked to where Adrien stood in the bedroom doorway, and Marinette’s eyes lit up.

“Adrien,” she breathed, rushing to his side, wrapping her arms around him, and squeezing him tight.

Reflexively, he untensed, settling into her embrace and dropping his head to rest on hers, his face buried in her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she stressed into his chest. “I’m so sorry. I’m not breaking up with you. Ever.”

“O-Oh,” he choked, beginning to tremble as an overwhelming wave of emotions washed over him. “Good,” he managed.

“Come here,” she coaxed, tugging him to the couch so that they could sit before their legs gave out.

She pulled back to look him in the eyes, gingerly cupping his face in her hands. “I’m sorry for how I reacted before. I was really upset, and there was a lot going on. There was a lot to think about and digest, and…” She shook her head. “I’m hurt and I’m angry and I’m still upset, but I will always love you, even when I want to scream at you and slap you silly, okay? I can be mad and still love you at the same time, all right? Plagg wasn’t sure if you knew that, so I wanted to make certain we were clear on that point.”

Adrien had to swallow and take several deep breaths before he was able to reply. “…I wasn’t sure,” he admitted. “I’m not good at fights. I don’t know how this works.”

She nodded, stroking his face and petting his hair. “That’s okay. I know you haven’t always had the best examples in your life, so… When my parents fight, things can get ugly. Sometimes they say things they don’t really mean. I think everyone does that. The important thing is that once they cool down, they sit down and talk about what happened and what they were thinking and feeling, and they work together to fix the problem that started the fight. They say sorry, and they remind one another how important they are to each other, and then they try to learn from the experience and not make the same mistakes again. Ideally, that’s how it’s supposed to work,” she explained.

“So…” He frowned as he tried to wrap his head around this new information. “You said sorry and that you still love me. I said sorry earlier. Does that count, or do I need to say it again now?”

Marinette grimaced and had to remind herself that he was struggling to grasp this new concept, so she needed to be patient.

“It’s not quite so formulaic as that,” she informed gently. “Those were more guidelines than a script, but…Plagg told me how torn up you’ve been about keeping secrets from me and how hard it’s been for you not being able to tell me who you were, so…I know you’re sorry. That’s the important part. I believe you’re sorry, so you don’t have to say it again.”

He nodded, tentatively, still not quite sure of his footing. “So…you forgive me? Are we done fighting?”

She bit her lip, dropping her hands from his face to his palms as she looked away. “Yes and no. I’m still…feeling things. This is a lot to process, and I’m still mad and hurt and upset, so…I need some time,” she confessed, looking back up at him imploringly.

He averted his eyes, shoulders inching up towards his ears as he began to curl in on himself defensively.

“Okay,” he mumbled, even though her answer wasn’t the one he’d wanted to hear.

“It’s going to take a while for me to sort through things in my head,” she explained. “I still love you, and I still want to be with you, but…you lied to me.”

He flinched but didn’t bother saying anything to defend himself.

“Like…a huge lie. For a long time,” she stressed. “That isn’t something I’m just going to get over. It doesn’t feel good to be tricked and betrayed like that, Adrien, so it’s going to be a while before I’m able to forgive you. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore, though,” she reiterated, wanting to make sure that he believed her. “Do you understand?”

He nodded, trying to make himself smaller so that he would, hopefully, shrink away and disappear.

This hurt worse than when his father scolded him. When he got in trouble with his father, it was usually for something Adrien had no control over. It hurt worse when he had actually done something wrong and knew his punishment was justified.

“But we’re going to get through this, okay?” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “This is just a rough patch. We’re going to come out on the other side stronger.”

“Okay,” he whispered, trying to believe her.

It was hard because he had always been a screwup, and he didn’t anticipate that changing anytime soon. He would always disappoint her and make her question the trust she placed in him. He’d been doing it for five years now, and it made him wonder which time would be the final straw. He always felt like he was on the precipice of losing her forever.

When he tuned back in, at least a minute or two had passed, and Marinette was in the middle of saying, “…you ever thought this was a good idea. I just…I don’t understand. How could you trick me like that?”

She stopped talking and looked at him expectantly.

He looked up and blinked at her.

She frowned. “Adrien, are you listening to me?”

“I…” He gulped. “Sorry. I don’t usually get to say anything, so…”

Slowly, her left eyebrow drifted up toward her hairline. “When have I ever not let you talk?” she inquired in honest confusion.

“Not you. My father,” he informed. “When I’m in trouble and he’s yelling at me. I don’t usually get to say anything, so…” he trailed off again with a shrug.

Marinette stared at her boyfriend as a cold chill walked its fingers up her spine. “You feel like you’re in trouble and I’m yelling at you…like your father does.”

His shoulders rose back up to his ears, and his gaze cast around on the floor for something to look at instead of her. “That’s…yeah. I mean…it’s a little different because you said you loved me, and that…that doesn’t happen with my father, but…yeah. …You’d think I would get used to being told what a disappointment I was,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

Marinette didn’t laugh. “…You’re not,” she stressed, taking one of his hands in both of hers and squeezing tight. “Just because I’m disappointed in something you did, that doesn’t make you a disappointment.”

Tentatively, he peeked up at her. “Is that anything like the saying, ‘You are not your failures’?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. Just because you did something that disappointed me, that doesn’t make it a part of who you are. It was just…just a mistake. Human beings make those.”

“Even you?” he ventured softly.

“Especially me,” she agreed. “I’m sorry, Adrien. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad; I just wanted to understand what had happened, but… What your father does to you is horrible, and I don’t want things to ever feel like that with me. Say something next time.”

Taking a deep breath and finally meeting her gaze, Adrien asked, “When we fight, afterwards, do I get to talk about what I’m thinking and feeling too?”

It hurt her that he even needed to ask.

She nodded, assuring, “I care very much about what you’re feeling and thinking.”

He blew out a long exhale. “Okay. So…I don’t get to make choices often. I mean, I do this past month now that I’ve moved out, but…my whole life, I’ve just kind of had to do what people tell me. This past month is the first time I’ve been able to pick what I wear or what I eat or what I do with my free time, so…thinking for myself and making decisions on my own is a bit of a foreign concept.”

She had known that on some subconscious level, but now that he spelled it out for her, it was horrifying in a whole new way how tightly controlled he had been.

“I know you said you still loved me, even though you were mad,” he continued uncertainly, “but…will you still love me if I’m mad at you?”

She blinked at him in surprise but nodded, assuring, “Of course…but…why would you be mad at me?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Usually, when my father is scolding and punishing me, it’s for something that wasn’t my fault. Normally, I keep my head down and take it without protest because I have no control over the situation, no say in what happens to me…but…this relationship isn’t like that, is it?”

Slowly, she shook her head. “No. It’s not.”

He held her gaze as he continued shakily. “You’re not my father. You’re not unfair like that, and you care about what I have to say.”

She nodded vehemently.

“And it’s okay to fight with you because you’re not going to stop loving me,” he added and waited for her to confirm it, needing to be sure.

“Yes,” she promised, internally bracing herself, even as she squeezed his hand tighter.

“Okay,” he breathed out shakily. “In that case…Marinette, I’m kind of tired of always accepting the blame for things that aren’t my fault.”

Her eyebrows drew into a frown of confusion as she tried to parse his words for meaning.

“I’m not trying to say that I didn’t do anything wrong because I know I did,” he rushed to explain. “I never thought it was a good idea to pretend to be two different people. I never wanted to do that, and it wasn’t like it was all fun and games for me. I hated lying to you…but even though what I did was wrong, it wasn’t entirely my fault.”

She pursed her lips, trying to figure out what he meant, if he was trying to blame Plagg for giving him bad advice or what.

“Marinette,” he called imploringly, eyes wet with the start of another round of tears. “You didn’t give me a choice.”

Her mouth dropped open in stunned disbelief.

“What was I supposed to do?” he pleaded. “It all got really messy really fast right from the very beginning. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you as Chat Noir. I didn’t mean for us to get so close, but we did, and that wasn’t something I could give up. You have no clue how horrible it was in that deserted mansion all by myself, always feeling like an impulse buy my father deeply regretted but couldn’t return. I felt safe with you. Your house was always a happy, warm place, and you made me feel like I was worth something. I couldn’t keep away,” he explained, praying that she would understand even a little bit where he was coming from.

He shook his head. “I couldn’t stop coming as Chat Noir…and then I fell in love with you, but that day when I accidentally tried to kiss you as Adrien, you said there was someone else, and, I mean, that someone else turned out to be Chat Noir, so…I was just so overjoyed to have my feelings finally returned that I didn’t stop to think that it was stupid to date you as a masked superhero. I didn’t think,” he sighed, mentally kicking himself for the thousandth time. “And then I accidentally kissed you as Adrien, and you accidentally kissed me back, and…”

He pinned her with an intent gaze. “Remember how I tried to tell you who I was that night? After the kiss in the library with Adrien, I came over that night as Chat Noir, and I was going to tell you everything, but you wouldn’t let me. You said no, and I respected your choice because you were right; it is a really freaking big deal, and knowing my identity could potentially put you and the people you love in danger, and that wasn’t something I could force on you. I respected your choice. Was that wrong?”

He stopped, offering her space in which to speak.

She took a measured breath and blew it out slowly, confessing, “I don’t know. I wasn’t operating with all the facts. I don’t… I think…maybe you should have said something.”

“I tried,” he whined. “I dropped so many hints, Marinette. As things got further and further out of hand, I kept trying to tell you. You always said no, but I kept trying. I let so many things slip, hoping maybe you’d figure it out so you could stop beating yourself up about cheating on me, but… Marinette, I even asked you as Adrien, ‘What if I’m Chat Noir’. I tried.”

“…You…did, didn’t you?” she replied hollowly, image after image of him trying to tell her flashing before her eyes.

He nodded miserably. “The whole dating myself thing was purely idiotic, but I panicked, and I just wanted you to stop being so distraught over quote-unquote cheating on me when that was mostly my fault in the first place for not being able to keep my hands off of you as Adrien. I was stupid, and I messed up, but I was just trying to make you happy. I asked you again and again to let me tell you my identity, and you were aggressively against it…so I just let it go. When you wanted Chat Noir and Adrien in the same room, I figured out a way to make it happen, and that was that.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I was going to say that Chat and Adrien couldn’t find a time in their schedules that worked, but…you were so excited for the three of us to all get together,” he groaned. “I couldn’t let you down, and then when I asked Ladybug for the Fox Miraculous—”

Marinette paled, feeling incredibly stupid as she played the scene over in her mind.

“—I asked her if I could just tell you my identity, and she said no too, so…and then it just kept going for so long it felt like I couldn’t say anything anymore, but today… This has been eating me alive, Marinette,” he sighed, sounding every bit as exhausted as he looked. “I couldn’t do it anymore. I’m sorry. I knew I was in the wrong the whole time, but I didn’t know what else to do. Like I said, I’ve grown up my whole life with very little opportunity to think for myself and make decisions, so those are things I really struggle with. I’m sorry, and I’m working on it.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Marinette cooed, pulling him into her arms. “I’m sorry. I can see why you didn’t feel like you had a choice. I’m so, so sorry.”

She tipped her head up, pressing her lips gently to his.

He leaned into the kiss, his heart fluttering at the contact.

When they pulled back, he gave her a goofy smile. “I was so scared you’d never kiss me again.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she sniffled, stroking his cheek lovingly.

“I’m sorry I lied and tricked you,” he answered, touching his forehead to hers.

“I’m actually really touched that you put that much time and effort into trying to make me happy,” she giggled through the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

He gently brushed them away with his thumb. “I’m glad that that’s worth something.”

“It’s worth a lot,” she assured. “You’re worth a lot.”

A light blush spread across his face, and he smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I really, really love you.”

“I really, really love you,” she responded with a giggle.

They pulled back just to look at one another, smiles pulling their mouths wide.

“…Hey,” Marinette remarked after nearly two minutes of gazing softly into one other’s eyes.

“Hm?” he hummed in answer.

“Have you eaten?”

Adrien frowned, trying to recall. “I…Maybe? I don’t remember.”

“He hasn’t!” Plagg and Trixx called out in unison from the arm of the couch where they were watching the scene develop.

Adrien blushed, looking away sheepishly. “Thanks, guys.”

“You’re welcome,” Plagg snickered.

Ignoring the kwami of destruction, Marinette forged ahead with her plan, “We should make dinner. How about I prep some salad for us while you brew two mugs of mint tea? Then we can snuggle on the couch while watching that one anime you mentioned the other day. Maybe even make popcorn. What do you say? I think we could use some low-energy bonding time after the day we’ve had.”

Tears spilled over down Adrien’s cheeks as he nodded enthusiastically. “You know just how to make me feel better.”

#Marichat #Adrinette #Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Identity Reveal #Chat Noir Identity Reveal #Chat Noir #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Plagg #Trixx #Original Akuma #Kissing #Writing Prompts #Mikau's Writings #Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses

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petertingle-yipyip · 5 years

Text

Where Happiness Begins - Peter Parker

Chapter Five - Don’t Throw It Away

//WHB Masterlist //

//Series Inspo: @cxptain-capsicle @stuckonspidey // Series Tags: @writingsbychlo @mc225g @fandom-princess-forevermore @peterparker-glee-other @olliekookie @rosegoldhome @chubsluda @missmulti @eternaleviee @freerebel @disgustangg //

Word Count: 4,427

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: It seemed like everything was going good with Y/N and her new friend, Peter. But Peter makes what could be the biggest mistake of his young life. Even though Y/N warns him, don’t throw it away, does Peter do it anyways?

“How was the internship?” Ned asked happily as he plopped down next to Peter at their usual lunch table.

“It was cool.” Peter answered, carefully choosing his words. He knew he couldn’t tell Ned about what the internship exactly consisted of, but he could be vague. “I met Tony Stark and his daughter.”

“You got to meet Tony and Y/N Stark? They’re like, living legends!” Ned said with excitement. “Did you see their suits?”

“I caught a glimpse of them.” Peter shrugged. “They’re working on some cool stuff.”

“Awesome!” Ned exclaimed quietly.

“Yeah, and Y/N said most of the work would be done at home but I could call her if I ever wanted to work at the facilities. It’s kind of an on-call deal as to when I’ll be here or there.”

“You have her number!?” Ned practically shouted.

“Keep your voice down!” Peter hushed him. “She said to call when I need something.”

“Dude, just call her.” Ned said to Peter. “You’ve been staring at what I assume to be her phone number forever.”

“I can’t just call her for no reason!” Peter argued. “She told me to call if I need anything. And I don’t need anything at the moment.”

“Well you need to talk to her. And this is getting embarrassing.”

“She hasn’t reached out to me since I last saw her. Do you think maybe she doesn’t want to talk? Maybe it was an empty gesture.”

“She wouldn’t have given you her phone number if she didn’t want to talk to you.” Ned sighed in disappointment. As much as he loved Peter, he knew his friend was a dumbass. “Maybe you should start texting Y/N instead of whoever else you’re always texting.”

“I don’t text anyone!” Peter defended quickly, suddenly anxious that Ned had seen something he shouldn’t have.

“That’s the problem, Peter!” Ned sad, throwing his hands forward. “You’re not texting anyone! You have Y/N Stark’s phone number and you’re not doing anything about it. She’s a genius, dude. Smarter than you even. And you’re letting this opportunity fall through your fingers.”

“I’m not losing anything.” Peter shook his head, turning his attention elsewhere while Ned continued to talk. It’s not that he didn’t want to talk to Ned about you, but he knew he couldn’t talk to Ned about you the way he wanted to. He wanted to talk about how powerful you really were, how when you’re in your suit you act like you’re unstoppable, and how if he didn’t know any better he’d believe you were. Maybe he did believe that after all.

“What is she like in person? Is she funny? Sarcastic? I bet she’s confident, just like her dad. But not she rules the world, just like she knows she’s badass. I mean, she’s the youngest Avenger. She has to have some confidence, right? Nah, she definitely has to know sh-”

“Did Liz get a new top?” Peter interrupted Ned.

“Liz?” Ned asked, confused by the sudden change in topic. “No, we’ve seen that before. Just never with that skirt.”

“Should probably stop staring before it gets creepy though.” Peter said dreamily, momentarily forgetting all about Y/N and being sucked back into his crush on Liz.

“Too late.” Michelle announced from the other end of the table. Both boys turned to her quickly. “You guys are losers.”

“Then why do you sit with us?” Ned asked carefully while Peter made a gesture of offense.

“Cause I don’t have any friends.” She answered plainly. “Besides, how are you going to stare at Liz while talking about Y/N Stark?”

“You heard that?” Peter asked in a loud whisper.

“I’m pretty sure everyone did.” She replied using the same tone. “You’re not very quiet, Parker. If you have her number, just use it. What’s the worst that’ll happen?”

The bell rang after that comment, sending all of them to their classes. Peter tried to push through the rest of the day like normal. Finish class, go to decathlon practice, go on patrol. That’s the way his days always went. But for some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Michelle had said at lunch.

How are you going to stare at Liz while talking about Y/N Stark?

It wasn’t like he was talking about you in any way other than a friend. You two were friends, right? New friends, but still friends. You had saved him a few times in Germany, and he helped take care of you afterwards. Cause that’s what friends do. That is what friends do, right?

The day seemed to drag until he finally got to decathlon practice. Peter didn’t want to quit and bail on the trip to DC, but he also knew he had to stay and be Spiderman. He had to make sure you and Mr. Stark didn’t regret giving him the suit. He had to take his responsibility as Spiderman much more serious now.

“Let’s move on to the next question.” Liz said to his other teammates. “What is the heaviest naturally occurring element?”

Peter wasn’t really listening to anything after that. It was obviously Uranium. He had to focus on explaining why he wasn’t going to Washington with his team.

“Peter… It’s Nationals.” Mr. Harrington tried to reason with the boy. “Is there no way you can take one weekend off?”

“I can’t go to Washington because if Mr. Stark needs me, or if Y/N Stark needs me, then I have to make sure that I’m here.” Peter said carefully.

“You’ve never even been in the same room as Tony Stark.” Flash commented from the back. “Let alone the same room as Y/N. She’s a total babe, no way she’s hanging with you.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Peter’s teammate spoke up from the stage.

“Peter’s not going to Washington.” A teammate said from the floor.

“What?” The first teammate said as Abraham rang his bell. “No, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Why not?” Abraham asked.

“Really?” Liz asked sadly. “Right before Nationals?”

“He already quit marching band and robotics lab.” Michelle added casually, causing everyone to turn to her. “I’m not obsessed with him, just very observant.” She defended herself.

“Flash, you’re in for Peter.” Liz said over his shoulder, giving Peter one last look.

“Oof, I don’t know. I gotta check my calendar first. I got a hot date with Black Widow coming up.” Flash retorted, giving Peter a look.

Peter had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping on Flash and exposing his secret. He remembered the joke you made on the ride back to the states. He let a small smile grace his face as he thought of your laugh, your smile, your bright and hopeful eyes. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you in his life.

Usually, patrols were fairly simple. Stop a mugging. Help an old lady across the street. He even helped someone get their bike back. He had given directions, and someone even bought him a churro. Until the ATM robbery. That night was so intense Peter wasn’t sure if he remembered it right.

There were weapons he had never seen before. He wasn’t sure he was going to come out of there on top. But he was Spiderman. He had to. That also happened to be the night Ned discovered Peter’s secret. Peter had to explain everything, which only gave him more stress than keeping his secret. He was scared that if Ned knew, he’d be in danger. But no one knew that Ned knew. So Ned would be okay, right?

He had to call you that night.

He held the phone to his ear as he laid in his bed that night. Instead of falling asleep or catching up on homework, he just stared at the ceiling and talked to you. “Hey, Y/N.” He smiled when you finally answered.

“So what are we calling this, exactly?” You asked your dad as F.R.I.D.A.Y. showed you blueprints for a new Spiderman suit. You were finally able to start easing back into your normal activities. You were medically cleared of your concussion, your ankle had dulled to an ache when you stood on it for too long, and your fracture and ribs were still healing. Movement of your upper body was less painful and you could breathe deeper without a sharp sensation.

“I don’t know. Iron Spider?” Tony shrugged, sliding across the lab in his desk chair to be by your side. “Has a nice ring to it.”

“And what about the suit we just gave him not too long ago?” You questioned, leaning on your dad’s shoulder.

“I have a new upgrade every so often. Same goes for the kid. You could also upgrade your own suit as often as you like. You just don’t.” Tony shrugged again, pushing you off by your forehead. “You designed his sensory filters so you’re on that first. Pull up your old designs and upgrade them.”

“I don’t even know how I did them, honestly.” You said, scrolling through the projected files to find your Project Parker files. “I’m pretty sure F.R.I.D.A.Y. did most of the work.”

“Well, figure it out.” Your dad with an eyeroll. “I’m staring to doubt if you’re really my daughter.”

“Haha, very funny.” You said sarcastically. “How am I supposed to upgrade these? I mean, just how clear does he need to see?”

“You know him better than I do, Y/N/N.”

“Yeah, but the upgrades are your idea.” You muttered. “Besides, Peter said they were perfect as they are.”

“Either way, they have to be redesigned.” Tony waved a hand dismissively.

“And why’s that?”

“New mask means new aesthetic design means reconfigured to a new shape.”

You and your dad spent hours flipping through designs. Some of them were nonsense scraps, things that you knew were unfathomable in the few hours you had to put it together that night, but now could be played around with. One of your personal favorites were the four additional appendages that are multi-functioned. Some things needed an overhaul from the start, something you weren’t happy with when you gave him the suit in general.

“Can we change the color?” You asked suddenly.

“Blue and red was your call, doofus.” Tony laughed.

“I know, but if he’s the Iron Spider now, shouldn’t his colors match if not coordinate with Iron Man?”

“Incoming call on Ms. Stark’s cell phone.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced before your dad could answer.

“Who is it?” You asked, not letting your attention shift from your past designs.

“Petey.”

“Petey?” Your dad asked with wiggling eyebrows. “Since when do you call him Petey?” Tony laughed.

“Answer it please. And put it on speaker. Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“Of course, Ms. Stark.”

“Hey, Y/N.” Peter said, the smile evident in his voice.

“Peter Parker, as I live and breathe. I was starting to think you didn’t want to talk to me.” You laughed lightly, noting a small flaw in the mask design. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“There’s a trip to Washington this weekend with the decathlon team.”

“Cool. Take lots of pictures.” You said aimlessly, expanding your lens designs.

“I’m probably not going.” He chuckled nervously.

“Just go to Washington, kid.” Tony interjected.

“Mr. Stark, hey. Hi. How- how are you?” Peter said quickly.

“I didn’t get a ‘how are you’ and I’m a bit upset about it.” You teased.

“Look, we said keep your extracurriculars up. Didn’t we?” You asked, him humming an ‘mhmm’ in response. “That includes decathlon.”

“But what if something happens here?” Peter asked as he wandered aimlessly around the room. “I mean, I’ve been texting Happy but he’s been ignoring me.”

“Yeah, we know.” Tony laughed. “He’s been sending us screenshots of your messages. Congrats on the churro, by the way. Anyways, listen kid, we didn’t bring you with us to Germany for you to sit here and obsess over things you don’t even know are going to happen.”

“Dad’s right, Pete.” You agreed, swiping your design towards your dad. “Are you using the new nanotech for this suit? Cause if so, we could use nanite lens instead of expandable?” You asked Tony before turning attention back to Peter. “You can’t sit here and put your life on hold because of Spiderman, because of this internship. Your team is depending on you, aren’t they?”

“I guess. I mean, Flash is gonna stand in for me. And- and Mr. Harrington understands.” Peter tried to reason with you.

“So that means Mr. Harrington is very disappointed but knows he can’t force you to go.” You shook your head. “Peter, you’re brilliant but also so dumb.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true, kid.” Tony agreed. “Are the lenses retrofitted?”

“Custom cut. Mask was fit to the lens.” You shook your head. “Go to Washington. We’ll handle whatever is going on that you don’t want to leave for.”

“There’s nothing specific.” He tried to defend himself.

“Yes, there is. You’re a terrible liar.” You smiled slightly.

“No, I’m not.” He argued. Your silence was enough pressure and he caved. Sighing heavily, he continued. “There were these guys tonight, and I think they had like, alien weapons.”

“We’ll look into it.” Tony said carefully, looking at you with an interested but confused look. “Go to sleep, Peter. We’ll talk later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“But don’t do anything he would do.” You joked.

“There’s a small gray area. And that’s where you operate.” Tony explained.

“Night, Petey.” You said, directing your focus on how to reconfigure the fit of the nanosuit versus the original. “How is this going to work? The mediums are completely different, there’s no way to transfer the program.” You asked your dad, who leaned over to see what you were looking at. Tony reached over your shoulder to touch and adjust your designs, but you smacked his hand away.

“Night, Y/N.” Peter said softly before hanging up. He knew you and your dad would look into it, but he also couldn’t sit by and do nothing.

As the week went on, things with those ATM robbery guys escalated. Peter met a guy with wings, chased the guys, found out they were selling the weapons, and decided on going to Washington. Only Peter wasn’t going to Washington for the decathlon. He had put a tracker on one of the guys and saw that’s where they were headed. He had to go and do something. Even though Mr. Stark told him to not worry about the guy with the wings when he had fished him out the lake, Peter didn’t have it in him to let something this big go. It was happening in his own neighborhood. It was his job!

“I thought you didn’t want to go to Washington.” You said when Peter answered the phone as he rode the bus with the team. “What changed your mind?”

“You did?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you?”

“Why did you bring the suit?” You asked plainly. “You’re going for decathlon. You don’t need it.”

“I just didn’t want May to find it if I left it.” Peter lied.

“Hmm.” You paused, thinking about whether or not Peter would be telling the truth. “So I’m not going to see any news stories about Spiderman in Washington?”

“Course not. Don’t be silly, Y/N.”

“I’m trusting you, Peter.” You said through a sigh. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“You won’t.” Peter smiled in relief. He wasn’t completely sure you’d believe him but he was glad you didn’t question him anymore.

Later that night in the hotel room, Peter and Ned had the suit laid out on the bed. He had connected the suit to Ned’s computer, while Peter had a flashlight in his mouth as he tried to find the tracker. Ned sat with the laptop, watching the programs and code display themselves on the screen.

“Peter… Why are we removing the tracker from your suit?” Ned asked casually as Peter worked.

“Uh.” Peter said before taking the light from his mouth. “Because I gotta follow these guys to their boss before they move again. And I don’t really want Mr. Stark to know about it.”

“What about Y/N? Why not tell her what you’re doing and she can talk to her dad?” Ned suggested.

“Y/N wouldn’t want me to do it either.”

“So you’re lying to Ironman now? And his daughter?”

“No, no, no. Not Lying.” Peter tried to explain. “They just don’t really get what I can do yet.”

Carefully, Peter peeled the tracker off the fabric. “Gotcha.” He said triumphantly as he held it up. “Alright, have fun tracking this lamp.” He said, sticking the tracker to the nearest lampshade.

Meanwhile, you were eating dinner with your family when this was happening. A small beep in your bracelet drew your attention.

-Tracker removed from Project Parker suit. Immediate maintenance required. Last known location: Washington, D.C.-

“What the hell?” You mumbled, swiping the notification away. You’d look into it later.

Back in Washington, Peter wasn’t quite done toying with his suit.

“There’s a ton of other subsystems in here.” Ned commented, scrolling through the code.

“Hmm?” Peter mumbled. He had remembered something you had said about there being more to what the suit could do but he never really gave that much thought.

“But they’re all disabled by the Training Wheels protocol.” Ned snickered.

“What?” Peter said quickly, jumping to see what Ned was seeing. “The Training Wheels Protocol?” Suddenly, he remembered something you had said in Germany.

Once the Training Wheels are off, I’ll show you what that suit is really capable of.

“Turn it off.” Peter demanded, now offended, He knew there was more his suit was capable of, but he never thought he had needed training wheels.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Ned shook his head with a small laugh. “I mean, they’re probably blocked for a reason.”

Peter groaned before pushing himself up and climbing onto the other bed. “C’mon man. I don’t need training wheels.” He huffed and jumped in a circle on the bed. “I’m just sick of him treating me like a kid all the time. It’s not cool.” He pouted.

“But you are a kid.” Ned countered.

“Yeah, a kid who can stop a bus with his bare hands.”

“Peter, I just don’t think this is a great idea.” Ned tried again. “I mean, what if this is illegal?”

“Look, please. This is my chance to prove myself.” Peter said, kneeling by Ned’s bedside. “I can handle it, Ned, come on.”

“I really don’t think this is a good idea.” Ned told his friend.

“The guy in the chair.” Peter whispered, hoping it would be enough to convince him.

“Don’t do that.” Ned breathed with a shake of his head.

“C’mon.” Peter pushed.

Ned hesitantly sighed, but deactivated the Training Wheels protocol. The suit flashed, blue lights running the seams. A new alert was sent to your bracelet, interrupting dinner yet again.

“Again?” You scrunched your eyebrows.

“What’s the issue?” Tony asked, gesturing to your flashing bracelet.

-Training Wheels Protocol has been disabled at off-site location. Confirmation required. Stark Industry Key Identifier not entered. Immediate attention required. All systems are now active.-

“You’re kidding.” You mumbled as your bracelet flashed an alert. “I’m going to kill him.”

“What’s wrong, hon?” Your mom asked as you shook your head.

“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just a notification. Can I be excused for a minute?” You asked her and your dad.

“Sure.” Tony nodded. “Make sure you come back. It’s your turn to clear the table and do dishes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved your hand before stepping into the hall.

“Y/N, oh my gosh, hi!” Liz answered your call. “I haven’t heard from you in forever!”

“I know! Sorry, everything has just been so busy around here.” You laughed lightly.

“I bet. With the new internship you have set up with Peter. That was really cool of you to do that for him, by the way.”

“Speaking of Peter, he went with the decathlon team, right?”

“Yeah. I think he’s still in his room. The rest of us are at the pool.”

“He didn’t wanna go with you guys?” You asked, checking the tracker on Peter’s suit. It still said the hotel. “Or did you not invite him?”

“Of course I invited him.” She said, hearing a hint of annoyance in her voice, annoyed that you’d even suggest she’d leave him out. “He just hasn’t come down. Why?”

“He’s not answering me. I thought maybe he was with you guys.” You shook your head again in disbelief. “It’s not important. I can talk to him when he gets back.”

“Well, maybe Ned can get a hold of him. Here, let me hand him the phone.” She said. Before you could protest, you could hear muffled voices within the transfer.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., I need you to record this conversation with Ned Leeds. Discreetly, please. Send the file to my Project Parker folder. And keep it locked. My passcode only.” You said quickly. The system beeped and the recording began.

“Hi, Ned Leeds?” You asked when you heard a male voice through the phone. “Y/N Stark. How’s Washington?”

“Holy shit.” Ned sighed.

“Yeah, listen. I need to talk to Peter. He’s not answering my calls.” You said plainly.

“Well, the thing about that is- He’s not really around right now.” Ned said nervously.

“What do you mean, not around?” You pressed.

“Well not like he’s gone. He’s here. In Washington. With us. He’s just busy?”

“Busy doing what? I swear to God I will go to that hotel right now and beat the information out of you myself, Leeds.” You said, your patience running thin. “You’re going to tell me what that boy is up to. Everything that you know, do I make myself clear?”

“He’s just stretching his legs, getting the hang of some new resources.” Ned hurried. “He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“Then why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not nervous!” He replied quickly. “And Peter is fine. He’s just upgraded his old programs.”

“Upgraded?” You paused for a moment, wanting to check something. “Hold on, Ned. Don’t go anywhere.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., I need to see Peter’s live feed. Send me the video from the Baby Monitor protocol.” You said, watching your phone show you what Peter was seeing. You saw him in an old storage building, where scraps from the past battles were stored. You watched as he filtered through different web options, vocalizing small questions and comments as he went. “Son of a bitch.”

“Uh, Y/N?” Ned said, pulling your attention back to him.

“Did you know?”

“What?”

“The suit, you moron. You two are bunking together. Did. You. Know?” You asked carefully. You could feel the anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You were beyond pissed.

“Yeah, I knew.” He said hesitantly.

“Did you help?” You challenged. “That’s a complex, multi-million dollar suit. It’s not something that can just be hacked whenever. So I’m going to ask one last time. Did you, Ned Leeds, help hack the suit?”

“It may have been from my computer.” He slowly confessed. “I told him it was a bad idea. I didn’t want to do it but he kept saying I was his guy in the chair. I told him it was probably illegal, and now we’re going to jail. Aren’t we? Oh my god.” Ned said in a panicked voice.

“You have better have a good explanation as to why before I kill you both.” You hung up quickly before dialing Peter.

“Would you like me to save the audio file, Ms. Stark?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked as you waited for Peter to answer.

“No, just delete it.” You sighed. “Ned doesn’t need to get dragged into this more than he already is. He obviously didn’t want anything to do with it. Peter’s the one to blame.”

No answer.

“Peter Parker, I know you are not ignoring my calls. I know you are not that stupid.” You said plainly. “And if you are, you are going to be in deep shit with my dad. You’re lucky I got the notification that the suit was tampered with and not Tony. Actually, I know you’re not ignoring me because I saw your feed. You’re in a goddamn Damage Control Deep Storage Vault. God, Peter, how could you be so stupid? So disrespectful? So irresponsible. And you had the audacity to bring your friend, Ned, into it? How stupid are you, honestly. And to top it all off, Ned didn’t want to hack the suit. He didn’t want anything to do with it and yet here we are, two notifications from your suit interrupting dinner.

“That is a multi-million dollar suit and you’re taking it apart like it’s a toy. Maybe it was a mistake to let you keep the suit. There was absolutely no need to take it with you to Washington and you know that. Trying to make sure May didn’t find it, my ass. Now, you’re ignoring me, with a highly advanced, highly equipped piece of Stark tech, doing God knows what with it. Why did you need to do it, Peter? Why? What are you trying to prove?

“I swear to God, the moment you are home with Aunt May, I am going over there and I’m taking that damn suit back. I guess you weren’t ready for that kind of power. I’m serious, Parker. Did you even think about the consequences of what tampering with that suit could mean? What if what you were doing had damaged the suit? How were you going to explain that to me and my dad?

“There’s no way to explain how the tracker had been removed and the Training Wheels protocol was disabled. Those things have to be physically altered. I made it that way on purpose, that way someone had to do something about it. You had to earn the freedom and liberties that that suit has to offer. But you went ahead and took it into your own hands and toyed with the suit.” You had to pause to take a deep breath. You had been talking so much and so fast that your mouth had gone dry.

“Look, I’m pissed. Tony is going to be even more pissed when he finds out. And I’m not keeping this from him. I hope you didn’t expect me to. You really disappointed me this weekend, Peter Parker. I seriously cannot believe you’d be so stupid.” You spoke slower. “Call me once you’re back. We need to talk.”

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iwanttobeyourwonderwoman · 3 years

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DAY 6

Single And Happy.

Single? You mean my life for the past 5 years!?

Through these 5 years I spent a good portion of my time focusing on school then work and also my friends. I did have distractions from some crushes in between but as the word suggests, I was the one crushed in the end and now I’m back to flying solo.

I was the one who initiated my last break up so I got over it pretty fast because in my mind at that time, the relationship had already gone as far as it could, no point in prolonging it when both sides weren’t really happy. I was in uni and was honestly too busy with school. I mean culinary school is no joke, I barely had much extra time because we were packed with theory homework, assignments, projects and culinary practicals. I also had a really solid group of friends in uni and things just felt different hanging out with them, and I was very present at that time, not clinging on to my poly life as much anymore. There was a different maturity level to my classmates (because the guys had already finished army so they were all older than me by at least 2 years)and obviously a deeper understanding of our school life and career choice. So all of that was kind of missing from my previous relationship which made me feel like we were no longer on the same level. So I ended things just around this time 5 years ago.

Straight out of uni, I started my internship and then continued at the same job full time after for a total of 3 years. I thought I didn’t have time in school, but I was obviously wrong, I was so busy being stressed out at work just trying to grasp everything and learn and survive for as long as I could. It was near impossible to have time for anyone else. I was way too focused on my career and there’s nothing wrong with that right. And I was never interested in anyone for the first 2 years. And then starting 2019, I was a depressed little duck, I did some dumb shit, I let others hurt me but I also hurt myself more than anything. And everything just kept spiralling down throughout the year. I did put myself out there, and it backfired and just kept me in a shit hole for quite a long time after. Things at work were pretty bad too so yeah it felt like a fast track straight to the centre of the fire.

Last year, I tried using dating apps just for the fun of it and encouraged myself to put myself back out there mainly because I had finally quit my job and I was enjoying my freedom, thinking I could start to consider dating again. And then obviously Covid. And then also later on in the year a new job with shit hours so it was never good timing. Nothing seemed to work out.

Basically on my journey of being a single lady, I should have focused a lot more on myself than dumb boys, then maybe my 2019 depression wouldn’t have been so bad. (It was always gonna be bad because of a certain dickhead) but maybe everything else wouldn’t have snowballed the way it did.

It’s funny how only now at this stage of myself, at the age of 26 do I feel like I have zero issue with being single. I did try, things didn’t work out and that’s totally fine, but I don’t have to be out chasing for someone to like me and appreciate me, things happen at the right time and place and I believe if something is meant to be, then it will come through. And if certain things are worth fighting for, then there will be war. But at this point, I’m enjoying the peace. I’ve managed to spend a lot more time working out, which is amazing because of all the unfortunate weight gain over the past year from the time covid started.

Do I feel lonely? Yeah of course I do at times. But I also feel like I have some amazing friends who at times don’t let me feel like there’s a void. And really I enjoy my workouts and gym sessions and how could I focus on my friends and myself and my workout schedule if I had to worry about someone else???? Not possible. So the gym is it! (which has now come to a halt because of the new covid strain and the restrictions which involve closing gyms *cries*)

So am I currently happy being single?

Yes, yes I am. Took me some time to accept it, but yes. I’ve got many other things to worry about. I don’t need a man to make me happy. Yes it would be nice to have someone at the end of the day, but I have some pretty kickass friends and I think they’ve accepted the fact that they’re stuck with me and continue to love me for who I am.

I’m not gonna go out and hunt for someone, that’s not how it should be. If someone comes along, and things work out, then they work out. I’m in no rush because in the meantime I’m busy trynna be a the pastry chef I have the potential to be. Till then I fly solo, but with my pals right behind me.

#gituuuu

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her-eyes-looked-so-sad · 6 years

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Denver had a purpose (long post)

I was sitting there getting so much work done, agitated as hell but thinking smugly to myself about how here I am in Denver being productive™️ and doing stuff for my clients like ooooo all my shit is together therefore I can sweep my problem under the rug. Except I realized that no matter how much work I was doing, no matter how on top on my schedule and press releases and clients and pitches and research I was: none of it meant a damn thing.

That’s not to say that my work doesn’t matter. It’s just with the realization that a dying girl achieving her goals is pretty fucking meaningless if I’m dying. And with that, I closed my laptop and began walking the very well known path between the Lowry Starbucks and ERC. I was scared. I felt stupid. How crazy would I look? As I trudged closer, I sped up. Tears streaming down my face, my body literally pulling everything it could until it got right in front of the building. Am I really here? Am I really about to just fucking show up at ERC and ask to talk to someone? I guess so.

I went into the foyer area and started taking pictures to prove to myself later that this wasn’t some kind of fucking seroquel and vodka infused dream sequence. I said “My name’s Rachel Patterson, I’ve been here before, and I need to talk to someone please.”

I’m fucking crying, trying to not become hysterical. Front desk lady kindly says “Ok sweetie, are you admitting today?”

“No, I’m sorry I know this is random but I just want to talk to someone. Anyone, please.”

I try thinking of Dr McGuire’s name. “I know it, I know who she is. I remember, I promise...it’s her!”

Wouldn’t you know, Dr. McGuire herself comes out of those double doors. There was a fire drill so lots of staff swirling around. I hear Cindy’s voice. I miss Cindy so much.

“What’s going on?” She asks, kindly.

I explain that I’m here on a layover at the tail end of spring break. “I just needed to see someone here, anyone, and be able to look at them and say that I am completely miserable. Every single day, my eating disorder makes me completely miserable and I am so sorry.” Crying. So much crying. She honestly looks scared and quickly says that she’ll be back. I sit down in one of the chairs and Rendy walks by and opens the door. I’m too ashamed to speak up but out of the corner of my eye I see him basically stop in his tracks, turn around, and look at me. Half like “what the hell is Rachel doing here” and also “holy fuck Rachel is in a bad spot”

Dr. McGuire comes back out with Caitlyn the dietitian. I like Caitlyn but she’s a dietitian therefore not who I was expecting. Both of them look fucking scared. Oh no what if I freaked them out by having a complete mental breakdown in the foyer of their treatment center? Both of them hug me at this point. I’m completely at my wits end, crying because Im so desperate and laughing because I am so happy to finally see people from ERC. “Ohmygod Caitlyn I never did anything you told me and I am so sorry that I never listened!!!!” We all kinda laugh. I always fight with the dietitians, I never learn, and I always wind up crying my eyes out saying “I’ll listen this time I promise”.

It was a quick meeting, and I don’t remember everything exactly but they were saying that it sounded like I needed to be admitted and that they could get me a bed in a couple days if I chose to stay in Denver.

“Oh but I have school and internships and work and I can’t leave, I can’t abandon it” I cry.

“Rachel we are always here to help you and it sounds like you really need help and we’re worried. I don’t know exactly what’s going on with your labs or EKGs but it sounds like you need help now” (insert incoherent rambling about how I tricked the doctor and I hated lying and being urged to see a medical doctor soon)

“Rachel. We can help you now. We can admit you if you want.”

I broke down. It felt like everything in me was finally broken into a million pieces. All the acting like I’m fine or it’s no big deal or whatever was gone. I almost said yes. I wanted so badly to say yes. To call my Dad and everyone else and just fucking let that weight come off my shoulders. To say fuck Memphis and fuck my eating disorder. Oh but how I was torn. I couldn’t just quit my job. Quit my internships?! I didn’t even have all my clothes. I have to take my cat to the vet. I have all my shit in a dorm and owe the school money. I have a research project I have to give in my crisis class with my favorite professor/Dr J where I have to do above and beyond average to prove myself to my classmates and earn her respect as a future PR professional. What so everyone else shows up after spring break and I just suddenly disappear? Oh no, oh God no. What was I to do?

I told them I couldn’t make any rational decision, but maybe they could check my insurance benefits for the future. Maybe I could just try a few things at home and get through the next two months and come after the semesters over, I pleaded.

I told them about Dr J. “She’s not a therapist or anything but I really look up to her and she always asks how I’m doing and is trying to help me find resources in Memphis. She really seems to understand and having her be there for me really does help. I feel so fucking alone except when I’m with her, even when we’re not talking about it. She’s just someone I really respect, you know.”

So Dr J, the professionals said thank you. That they’re glad I have someone instead of keeping everything to myself.

Dr. McGuire asked how school was going. I said good, when I’m not half dead haha. Sad smiles are still smiles. I said “my eating disorder is so loud and is so confusing and is it just a totally messed up eating disorder to say that none of this matters and I’m not that bad because I don’t look sick?”

“You do look sick, Rachel. You definitely look sick. You know I’ll be foreword with you.”

I was like THANK YOU BECAUSE NO ONE IN MY LIFE WILL TELL ME WHAT THE HELL I LOOK LIKE SO THANK YOU FOR ACTUALLY TELLING ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON.

They had to leave. “Rachel please go to the emergency room if there’s any kind of medical issue. Please.” They both looked afraid again. “I will, I promise. Thank y’all so much.”

There was a patient sitting in the waiting room. I looked at her and said “I know you don’t know me, but I’ve been here before and it’s the best place you can go. This eating disorder sucks and I hate it but, there’s gotta be an end to it right?” We talked a little and I looked at her and said “You’ve got to fight it.” And she said “you do too. The fact that you’re here right now means you want to get better. That you’re talking with them. Take care of yourself.

I decided then that I was going to treatment.

I am going to treatment. I told their intake person as soon as the semester was over that I would be back. And I fucking meant it.

To fast forward through the next few hours (as lovely and meaningful as they truly were) I get back to the airport and quickly board my plane. I can’t stop crying. We start taxing out and I’m feeling more and more lightheaded. There wasn’t time to grab a Diet Coke because I was busy purging the little bit I had for lunch (and quietly crying in the toilet like a fucking loser). The more lightheaded I get, the faster my heart beats. As we take off I started having chest pains. Not horribly painful but fucking terrifying and painful enough.

“What if I die on this plane? That’s what happened to Callie!”

“Calm down. Pray. You won’t die ok? Just don’t panic and keep your breathing nice and easy.”

The feeling gets sucked out of my face. I can’t breathe. I start blacking out and then it finally stops. I spend the rest of the flight crying and lightheaded. Oh fuck I made the wrong choice. I should have stayed.

I SHOULD HAVE STAYED, I scream at myself. I keep replaying the conversation. Keep picturing their faces.

We land. I am floating. I’m not awake but I can’t let myself rest. Baggage claim. Almost home. While waiting for Christina, I put my legs up and close my eyes. I am floating, I am weak. Blacking out. Heart thumping strangely.

“Rachel go to the emergency room if anything happens ok please. Please be careful.”

It’s like they knew.

Of course they knew. They’re the experts and they know ME. And they’d never seen me so bad/at such a low weight. They could see me dying. Oh my God...does Dr J see me dying?

How do I keep from fucking dying these next 8 weeks? Do I quit my job and try to reduce stress? Do I quit exercise? What do I do when I’m laying in bed or walking into class feeling myself get weaker and weaker? Because eating isn’t the fucking solution. My body has been damaged past that.

I feel fat and disgusting but I’m also dying. How can I pretend to be so bulletproof when I dance along the edge of no return?

How the fuck do I stay alive? Dr J isn’t going to have the answer.

I have to survive 8 more weeks.

I have to live.

#nasty little eating disorder #fuck you ed #ana anorexia bulimia not pro ed #I’ll get help

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spideys-pack · 7 years

Text

Stuttering Pete {Pt. 2} -Peter Parker x Reader-

Pt. 1 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4

Part 2!

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Somethings wrong with Peter. You start to notice that he’s not really acting like himself, even more than usual since his trip to Germany. Trying to ask what’s wrong doesn't really seem like its going to work until one night, you find a very frustrated Peter Parker on your fire escape, ready to vent for the first time in weeks.

Warnings?: Maybe a little bit of fluff and a little make out session. ;)

Something was bothering Peter. You knew it. He seemed preoccupied, which was the usual Peter, his head always seemed to be in all kinds of different places. Especially ever since their school trip to Oscorp months ago. As well as his Uncle Ben’s death weeks later which had thrown him into a huge depression. He hadn't talked to you, Ned or May in weeks. He barely ate, it was a hard time. This seemed to be different but you were sure not much would compare to the loss of his uncle. Ned finished adding his handful of LEGOs to the Death Star before getting to his feet.

“I’m going to go get some food. Do you guys want anything?”

“No.” You said

“I’m good.” Peter muttered placing another piece on the Death Star. Ned left the room. The two of you sat in Ned’s room in silence for a moment.

“Is...” You started “Is something wrong, Pete?” He looked up, lowering his handful of LEGO.

“It’s nothing.” He said shaking his head but he never looked into your eyes.

“Pete.” You said he looked up. His eye was still bruised, and the bruise on his cheek was still dark but it was looking better.

“Really, Y/N. I’m fine.”

“Peter.” You said reaching over and stopping his hand before he could attach the piece, he looked up at you. “How long have we been friends?” He knew where this was going. He knew there was no use in trying to put on a brave face with you. He couldn't lie to you but he also knew he couldn't tell you the whole truth.

“Since we were five.” He muttered

“Right. So ten years. You’ve also lived one floor up since we were five. You know you can't hide anything from me.” You added.

“Yeah.” He said avoiding your eyes.

“Okay, then what’s wrong?” You asked

“You don’t want to hear about it.” He tried once more to turn you away.

“Then why did I ask?” You raised your brows. He looked up glaring at you but there was no anger in it. Just the single fact that he had no idea what to do.

I’m Spider-Man. He thought I fought some of the Avengers. It was Steve Rogers who gave me this black eye. Tony Stark made me a suit and made me feel like I was part of the team but then just dumped me on my doorstep and I haven't heard anything from him since. Stopping bike thieves and helping little old ladies just doesn't seem to compare to the kinds of stuff I could be doing with Iron Man. I just feel like I could be doing more. I want to do more.

“I think Mr. Stark is going to end my internship.” Was all he really said.

“That’s what has you in this mood?” You asked

“Partially.” He said scratching his neck like he did when he was nervous.

“Then what is it? You can tell me these things. You know that.” You assured him. “Don’t bottle things up. It doesn't suit you.”

“Don’t mother me. That doesn't suit you.” He went back to assembling the Death Star. You sighed, crawling around the beach ball sized ball of LEGO to sit in front of him so he couldn't use it as a distraction.

“It just feels like theres a void between us lately. We used to tell each other everything.” You said Well, you never told him about your crush on him. You thought to yourself.

“I know, I know...” He said seeing the look on your face, he reached over and took your hand in his. “You’re still my best friend, Y/N. I know I’ve been distant lately because of the Stark Internship and...” He paused “And Uncle Ben.” You squeezed his hand.

“I just want you to know that I’m still here.” You assured him. “Just one fire escape level down from you. Just come down any time you want to talk.”

“I know. Same for you. But up.” He gave you a smile and for the first time in quite a while, you felt at ease.

You had always been a light sleeper. It was your downfall in a city like New York. You would have thought being born and raised in the city would give you an edge to being undeterred by noise during the night. Tonight was one of the nights you just could not sleep.

Laying awake you listened to all the sounds around you. Traffic, sirens, the occasional shout from an angry New Yorker. It was all familiar. You became aware of the sound of old metal creaking as someone started to descend from the fire escape. Some how, you knew it was Peter. The tell tale tapping of his knuckles on your window a few seconds later just confirmed it for you. You swung yourself out of bed wrapping a blanket around your bare shoulders exposed by your monkey pyjama tank top. Walking over to your window, you unlocked it, seeing Peter’s crouched figure by the sill. You pushed the window open allowing him access. Once the window was open enough for Peter to slip in, you backed away. Going back towards your bed, you heard him close the window and begin to follow you. Reaching over, you turned on your lamp. Peter squinted against the sudden light.

“Hey.” You said as he dropped onto your bed.

“Hey.” He replied whispering.

“You don’t have to whisper.” You said reaching over and grabbing your favourite hoodie. Slipping it over your shoulders instead of the blanket and zipping it up. “My parents aren't home.”

“Another late night at work?” Peter asked you nodded. “That’s like the third one this week. Aren't you scared?” He asked his face riddled with concern.

“No, not really.” She said “Plus, I’ve got an escape route if someone breaks down the door.” You gestured to the fire escape. Peter chuckled. “Anyways,” You began. “What’s up? You’re not in your PJ’s.” You pointed out. He nodded glancing down at his dark jeans, grey t-shirt with a science joke on it you couldn't see because of his half zipped dark blue hoodie.

“Yeah, I just got home.” He said

“Where were you?” You asked

“Out... Just wandering around.” He said looking down at his hands in his lap.

“Just walking around?” You said flinching at the clipped tone the question came out in. “Hoping to run into Steve again are you?” You added arching a brow. His bruises were almost gone now. Peter actually laughed at this question. A short burst but still, it made you smile.

“No.” He finally said. A small sad smile on his face.

“Okay. Are you finally going to tell me what’s been bothering you?” He thought about it for a moment before turning his body to face you.

“Mr. Stark keeps treating me like I'm a kid.”

“You are one though, Pete.” You pointed out he sighed

“I know... I know that it’s just... I thought we had a deal. A sort of partnership going on and now he won't talk to me.”

“What kind of partnership?” You asked

“Um.. Sp-Spread sheets and st-stuff.” He said Peter stuttered when he wasn't telling the whole truth but you let him continue because at least he was talking.

“Anyways, I did this favour for him,” Peter dropped onto his back, his feet still dangling off the edge of your bed. “A big favour, I might add.” He said as you got up. You shuffled towards your desk where a mini fridge sat next to it retrieving two cokes for you and Peter. You were probably going to need some caffeine.

“Do you see what I mean though?” Peter asked, sitting up once more watching you pace back and forth.

“So, after you helped him he just kind of went MIA on you?” You asked he nodded.

“Yeah!” He threw his hands up “I can't get him to talk to me. I want to continue to do more important stuff. Stuff that matters more than- Spread sheets. I just wish he would give me a more important task.” He said you walked over pulling yourself onto the bed again.

“Have you tried going up to his office while your interning?” You asked

“He’s never at the Tower... I think he’s moving.”

“If he moves won't your internship be over?” You asked his face dropped as if for the first time realizing that fact. He sighed turning to face you.

“What should I do, Y/N?” He asked desperation in his voice.

“I don’t know, Pete. I honestly don’t.” He put a hand through his hair. You watched him intently. You thought about how much he meant to you and seeing him this frustrated and stressed out and not knowing how to help him really made you feel useless. And if you were being honest, guilty. You had been bugging him to talk to you about this for weeks and not that he had finally handed you the key to helping him, you broke it in the lock.

“Does Aunt May know?” You asked finally breaking the silence. “About Mr. Stark going MIA and the relocation?”

“No.” Peter shook his head. “I haven't told her anything. As far as she knows everything is going fine.”

“Why don’t you tell her? Maybe she can talk to Mr. Stark?” Peter chuckled

“Yeah... That’s a good idea. I pity Mr. Stark for when she does find out. She could rip into him pretty good, as you are aware.” He said you found yourself smirking at the thought of May Parker and her unrelenting protectiveness for Peter. You had seen it on multiple occasions. If Peter ever got in trouble at school or anywhere else for a stupid reason, in came May Parker ready to tear into the moron who dared to cross Peter.

“Do you think-” Peter stopped mid sentence and shook his head “Nah, never mind.” He said

“No, come on. Say it.” You urged giving is knee a gentle slap.

“Do you think my Uncle Ben would be proud of me?” His big brown eyes were soft as they looked up at you. Filled with doubt.

“I know that he was proud of you.” You said and on compulsion reached out and took one of his hands in yours. “And he still would be.” You added. His mouth pulled into a small smile as he looked down at your hand on his before turning it to link your fingers together.

“Thanks, Y/N...” He said “Really.” He looked up to meet your eyes you smiled feeling a blush crawl up your cheeks, suddenly very aware of the warmth of his hand.

“It’s what I’m here for right?” You said he nodded. Silence fell between the two of you as you just sat there. You didn't really know what to say. Your mind was all over the place, All kinds of thoughts coming at you. One stuck, for some reason you were thinking about Liz Allan. In this moment you found it easier to hate her. Despite how nice she was, you didn't want her to have the feeling of Peter’s hand in hers. You didn't want her to have Peter. Considering she hasnt really given him the time of day. No. In that moment you didn't want anyone else to have Peter Parker. In fact, the thought of someone doing so filled you with anxiety and anger.

“You okay, Y/N?” Peter asked you looked at him confused. Was it that obvious?

“Yeah. Why?” You asked

“You’re squeezing my hand.” He said you looked down noticing you were gripping his hand so tight your knuckles were white.

“Oh, sorry.” You said taking your hand back and putting it in your lap with the other one.

I bet Liz wouldn't squeeze his hand. You thought and internally cursed yourself.

“No, that’s fine.” Peter said you can tell something was on his mind.

He’s probably thinking about Liz... That’s all that dork thinks about. Michelle’s voice echoed around your skull. Was he thinking about Liz right now? A pit settled in your stomach.

“Peter?” You croaked he looked up. “Do you...”

Do you think about Liz a lot? Do you like Liz? Do you like me? Did you wish that was Liz’s hand?

Do you want to kiss me?

“Do I what?” Peter asked

Oh hell....

Moving towards Peter quickly before you can wimp out, you cupped his face and pulled his lips to yours. His body was tense, you leaned back slowly, your nose brushing his as you leaned back. His eyes opened slowly like yours into a surprised expression. You dropped your hands.

“I’m sorry... I just had to do that at least once.” Peter was still watching you in shock. Or was that anger? Discomfort? He was impossible to read in that moment. “Pete? Did I make you uncomfortable?” You asked he shook his head slowly.

“No, no... I was just wondering how... How you would feel about doing it twice?” He said your heart practically leaped from your chest.

“Well,” You said smiling “Doing it again wouldn't be so bad.” You added Peter’s hands were on your bare thighs, exposed by you jammie shorts. Sliding up to your waist as he drew closer. You felt his warmth as he came closer.

Liz Allan who? You thought to yourself with a smile as Peter lifted a hand to your jaw to hold it steady as he closed the gap between you. Your lips coming together with more grace this time, parting slightly. He leaned away just enough to check your face for any signs of objection. You smiled leaning back in, this time your lips parting completely to allow each of your tongues to move, exploring.

You slipped your hands down to his waist, slipping your hands under his hoodie and t-shirt to place your hands on the skin on his hips. He started to lean forwards, his hands leaving your face to be placed on either side of you on the mattress as you allowed him to lower you onto it. You drew your knees apart, bringing him closer. He smiled against your lips as you slipped your hand down to grab his bum.

Your back involuntarily arched into him as his mouth left yours and found your neck. You found your hands had discovered the zipper of his hoodie and were dragging it down. Peter made no move to object as you accomplished your task and made to push the dark fabric off of his torso, helping you guide it off of his arms.

He tossed the hoodie away, you heard it hit the hardwood floor a few feet away, smiling as he leaned in to kiss you again, slipping your hands under his shirt surprised to find hard, lean muscles along his back, curiosity overwhelmed you and withdrawing your hands, you slipped them back up the front of his shirt. Your heart almost stopped when you felt each individually well defined ab on his abdomen, and the warm smooth flesh of his pecks. Using majority of your strength, you flipped Peter onto his back, straddling his waist. He gripped your thighs, sliding around to place his hands on your hips, his warm finger tips grazing your lower back. You were beginning to get foggy, breathless and a little hot. Leaning down to attach your mouth to his throat. Feeling goosebumps rise on your skin as he let out a groan when you nipped at his jaw on your way back to his lips. Sitting up, keeping you on his lap as your lips met again, his hands found the zipper to your hoodie and it took him half the time to get yours off of you and toss it towards where his was resting. His hands slid down your back and around to the top part of your bum. You reached down taking the hem of his t-shirt in your excited fingers and pulling it up over his head. He watched you as you looked down at his gloriously ripped torso. It’s probably something most girls wouldn't expect to see under Peter Parker’s clothing.

Peter’s warm fingers found the hem of your tank top and you hoped you were wearing a cute enough bra as he pulled it over your head. You blushed realizing you were now both half naked together. Your hormones getting the better of you as you forced Peter’s shoulders back down onto the mattress.

Part three????

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #friendly neighborhood spiderman #homecoming #ned leeds

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silence-ion-om · 6 years

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Weight Just a Minute: Thoughts on Family, Food and Addiction

After a whirlwind weekend visiting with family, I send a quick email to my grandfather, thanking him for the visit & Christmas gift he sent. He responded today with a general statement to “keep my chin up as better days are coming,” followed by (yet another) comment about my aunt’s recent weight loss and how I need to start exercising more and lose weight.

I have no idea how to respond to his message. I have always been in awe and honestly, a little afraid of my grandfather. He is a learned man, an engineer who has traveled the world and experienced many losses. I do not think he knows quite what to do with his firstborn, right brain dominant, bleeding heart liberal, queer, therapist granddaughter, but I have no doubt that he loves me. And I am really proud of my aunt and I support the steps she is taking to better her health. But I wish my grandfather could understand that her journey is not mine.

My journey starts like this: Growing up, my father owned a vending machine business and I was named his “official product testor.” (I had an airbrushed uniform shirt with my name and incorrectly spelled title and everything). I had unfettered access to all the Twinkies, Snickers and Cheetos a kid could ask for. I was an academic, not an athletic kid, which meant a lot of indoor, sedentary activities. I fell easily into the habit of mindless eating when I was bored or tired or lonely or upset. To their credit, my parents did an excellent job of instilling body positivity and a strong sense of self-esteem. The world is harsh to a chunky nine year old girl with short butch hair, but I grew resilient-- in large part because of the efforts my beautiful, imperfect parents.

My father was an artist who romanticized the Rubenesque female form; full-figured naked ladies adorned almost every corner of our home in various mediums of oil pastel, charcoal, mosaic tile, wood, and clay. (This was only slightly embarrassing when friends were over, since I didn’t really know any better.) My mother was often the subjects of these works of art, much to her chagrin. I now realize she was constantly managing her own insecurities about her weight in order to avoid projecting them onto me. We had plenty of tense and tearful dressing room moments, but she did her best to model confidence. She also raised me to be a foodie and taught me love of good cooking, traits I continue to appreciate to this day.

Because weight is something my mother struggled with most of her life, I can’t help but see parallels in how my grandfather discussed both her weight and mine. The thing is, I know his comments are ultimately well-meaning. I also know that I could spend the rest of my life seeking his approval, just like my mother did. Yet this is the most elusive goal because it is ultimately unattainable. No amount of external validation can fill a void created from lack of self-acceptance.

This is not to say that I don’t want to improve or be healthier, because I do. But being an alcoholic, I have difficulty with doing anything in moderation, including healthy things. I was probably in the best shape of my life in 2013, which coincides with my last attempt at sobriety. I was finishing grad school and quit my job in order to complete the hours for my graduate internship from hell. I was either interning and at the gym as much as possible to avoid my mother’s erratic behaviors while drunk. I was drinking a lot of smoothies and not eating solid meals consistently. In between workouts, interning and studying, I started sleeping with my personal trainer--and the rest is blurry history.

Sure, I was skinnier but I also felt small and uncomfortable in my body and out of control. I was checking every other -ism off the list without even realizing it. And that, friends, was cross-addiction at its finest. I must remember that I have a strong propensity for this. A part of me avoids serious contemplation of an exercise routine because I worry it will snowball into another manic mess like last time. And I’ve worked too hard to get to where I am now mentally, emotionally and spiritually that I don’t want to mess with the physical and potentially fuck everything up again. Even writing that statement feels contradictory and yet still partially, distortedly true. But I am writing about this now precisely because I am tired of maintaining the shame spiral that has hijacked my life by remaining silent.

The past three years have probably been the most difficult I have ever experienced. They have also been tremendous catalysts for growth and change, twin aspects in the process of living. When my mom died, I was miserable and shell-shocked and I wanted to put as many layers between myself and my emotions as physically possible. My fat functioned as insulation and armour. Then my father’s slowly developing dementia worsened, and driven by the intense fear of losing my last remaining parent, I took over caring for him. I felt a new kind of vulnerability, a self-imposed isolation that grew in direct proportion to the weight I was gaining. I took care of myself half-heartedly, often relying on my then-fiance to take care of the rest of me that was left. I have learned that this, combined with other factors, puts irrevocable stress on a relationship. So naturally, the typical post breakup binge montage behavior ensued. And that brings us to today.

If there is anything I have learned from all of this, it is that true and lasting change comes from within. I am still recovering from so many things, being patient and compassionate with myself is a necessary part of the maintenance. Understanding and humor go a long way too. So with that, I will keep my (double) chin up, continue telling my stories and writing my way towards meaning.

#body positive #fat #family #addiction #foodies

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get-something-to-write · 7 years

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Prompt from bullet anon(?): “ Prompt 152 for your favorite Hamilton ship? ”- “ Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night. “

( what a relatable prompt )

A/N: I wouldn’t say this is my absolute favorite ( that title belongs to Marliza! ), but is my guilty pleasure ship. Heh.( BWAHAHA I IS A REBEL ) Maria’s texting name is Angelica’s contact name for Maria and vice versa, to show how much those suckers are in love.

Maria: 19, freelance artist who quit college, basically what you’d expect a full time artist to do on Tumblr

Angelica: 22, majoring in PoliSci and Journalism, interns under George Washington

3rd POV omniscient

Warnings: nothing, at least this time, except for poor editing ( I'm too cheap for a beta :P)

Ping! Ping!

Angelica stared at her phone, watching text notifications blink across her screen in a rapid succession. She was waiting for a makeup tutorial on YouTube to load already, so she tapped on the notifications to see what Maria Lewis was sending her.

Maria <3: so ive been working on some art commissions

Maria <3: and this weird thing came to me

Maria <3: if mammals have hair and create milk

Maria <3: therefore

Maria <3: that means that the coconut in my kitchen

Maria <3: is a mammal

Maria <3: u get it right?

Even without any presence nearby to react to such a thing, Angelica let out an exasperated sigh and glared at her dimly-lit screen. Of course Maria was sending her weird shit at 1 am in the morning, because what sane person would? Although, she was heads-over-heels for the artistic girl, so she only half-joked about being irritated by the texting.

Angel the Angelic: y the heck r u sending me this

Angel the Angelic: also that’s not how it works

Angel the Angelic: besides, its super l8

Angel the Angelic: get to sleep so u can wake up 4 ur job

Maria <3: nah I don't have work today

Angel the Angelic: ugh can’t ur commissions wait 4 morning

Maria <3: it is an unspoken rule to never interrupt a writer or artist at work ;)

Angel the Angelic: k fine, but I'm sleeping now

Maria <3: gn then, or good morning actually

Angel the Angelic: please go to sleep

Angelica Schuyler barged into the living room of Maria Lewis’s apartment, with the latter wearing only underwear and an oversized hoodie. It hardly affected the taller woman much, since she was commonly seen in her apartment. After all, Angelica did have the spare keys.

However usual it was to have her in Maria’s place, Maria herself was becoming redder by the second as she was being caught wearing, well, not much. By her undying crush, Angelica Schuyler.

“ Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night, “ she said, plopping down on the couch after a day of working at her journalism/political science internship.

“ Eh, benefits of being a decent artist and not having to go through college. “

“ I don’t really get how you don’t stress out about not having a major. Lucky you, I suppose. “

“ College isn’t for everyone Angelica. “ Maria brought out some chai tea and granola bars that the older woman apparently was addicted to. Angelica studied Maria, making a show of flashing her eyes up and down. Feeling very numb inside from running around doing errands for the higher-ups all day, she spaced out and glared at the ceiling, attempting to count the amount of times the fan was spinning to distract herself from the fatigue and Maria’s body leaning on her side.

“ Hello? Ang? You want a bar or not? I’m gonna eat it if you don't want one...” Maria chuckled. Registering her words, she became a little crimson at the cute nickname and her teasing voice.

“ Oh no, you wouldn’t dare do that.”

“ Oh yes I would, just to spite you.” Growling, Angelica pounced on Maria, struggling to steal the beloved granola bar from her hand. She snickered, throwing the snack across the living room. During the process, Lewis had been pinned to the couch and was blushing furiously, although Angelica mistakened it for raucous laughter.

The normally serious woman sitting on Maria’s knees had crossed her arms, looking perpetually annoyed.

“ Ugh, now I have to get it. Thanks a lot Maria Lewis. “

“ You are very welcome my lady. “

Huffing, Angelica awkwardly scrambled off the younger girl to snatch the granola bar. She gazed at Maria’s face, which was red as a tomato. It was easy for her to read most people, but she was always confused by Maria

Maria was a fairly good actress, able to mask her emotions if needed, but never did around Angelica. Perhaps there was a chance that they mutually loved each other after all.

“ Well, while you enjoy your snack, I'll go back to working on my stuff. And tell me when you leave, ‘kay?” Angelica merely nodded, chewing through the granola bar while flipping through all the assignments from class. There was also a minor article from her internship, but it wasn't much. She contemplated staying over at Maria’s, since she was feeling too lazy to go to her shared apartment with her siblings.

After finishing her bar ( and went to the kitchen for more ), she was curious about what Maria was creating this time around. Angelica always loved looking at people's hard work, especially Maria’s. She was always quite amazed by the younger girl’s art.

“ Hey Maria! Uh, may I see what you are doing?” Angelica hollered, somewhat politely.

“ Actually, I'm just putting on some pants. Kind of indecent to not be wearing some when there's someone in your home, ya know?” Huh, that's pretty strange. She's been acting weirder and weirder, why would she refer to me as a stranger in the apartment?

“ Well, I would like to see what you’re drawing or painting or whatever. “

“ Eh, I’m the lineart pieces right now. And, you can come in now.”

Angelica stepped inside the only bedroom in the apartment, smiling to herself as she viewed the minimalist room, with the exception of the art desk that contained an organized clutter of cabinets labeled with the specific kinds of supplies. There were two watercolors drying on the wall, and the desk itself contained some sketched papers and few of what Maria was currently working on.

The drawing tablet and laptop were sitting on her bed because of the little space on her work area. Angelica wanted to aid her artistic friend more, maybe upgrade the apartment or endorse her art so she could have better luxuries. Angelica knew better than to ask so; Maria Lewis was a proud girl and was used to striking it out on her own.

She placed her arms gently on Maria’s shoulders, loosely hugging her neck as Angelica perched her chin on her head. Her hair was oh-so-soft. She twirled a strand with her fingers, absentmindedly playing the curly hair as she peered at Maria’s hand sketching out a majestic griffin.

Angelica sniffed her hair, taking in the intoxicating scent. She didn't notice how Maria had stopped drawing and stared deeply into the paper.

“ Hey Angelica? You're kinda distracting me a little, uh, are you sniffing my hair?” No response, solely because Angelica had leaned her body weight against Maria and was slowly drifting out of consciousness.

Angelica mumbled something, most likely about the younger girl to continue drawing, but Maria was having none of that. If the Angelica Schuyler was tired from staying up real late and doing her college stuff, she would push her into the closest bed. Okay maybe that sounded weird.

The Schuyler observed Maria as the artist sighed, swept her papers and pencils aside and considerately made sure Angelica didn’t stumble onto the floor as Lewis stood up from her swivel chair. Maria gently dragged her over to her mess of blankets and pillows.

“ Honestly, you should take a nap. Or stay over for the night, you can't go anywhere if you’re gonna fall asleep standing up. Actually, whether you like it or not you’re sleeping over for the night. I’ll text your sisters. You’re probably asleep by now, I should stop rambling to myself.” Angelica was truly unconscious by now, surely. Maria half-ran to her living room to snag her phone.

During that time, Angelica had internally realized where her body was laying and the simple smell of someone she recognized and loved dearly. She snapped her eyes open, mildly confused that she wasn't gazing over Maria’s shoulders.

She was actually relaxing in bed, Maria’s bed for the matter. A thin blanket covering most of her body. Its scent consisted of lavender and ink, an odd combination but nonetheless pleasing to Angelica’s nose.

Angelica squawked a little as Maria strolled back into the room and they stared each other awkwardly as she inched towards Angelica. The silence was practically sexual tension to any outsider had there been one there.

“ Would you want to sleep with me?” Angelica blurted out before cringing to herself. Way to creep out one of your best friends, Angelica.

The other looked just as surprised. Maria looked down at the floor as she slowly slipped into bed. In another impulsive movement, Angelica grabbed her arm and swiftly pulled her down, instinctively shifting around so Maria was comfortably settled on her side while facing her.

Both of them were glowing crimson, mere inches apart. Angelica was quite perplexed as to why she was feeling so ruffled by this. It wasn’t as if they had never made contact before. But those has been innocent hugs and cuddles during group sleepovers, perhaps watching sappy or horror movies.

Maria flipped over, desperate to not stare into those curious brown eyes. Her thoughts glazed over how it was impossible that the wonderful and confident Angelica Schuyler could possibly love her back. She nearly dismissed this situation as a thing that Angelica did when she was fatigued when a pair of arms warmly hugged her sides.

Holy shit is she actually cuddling me in my bed? What the hell is happening? Maria’’s face grew even redder, and had not gone unnoticed by Angelica who had very keen senses. Angelica used one hand to turn Maria’s head over.

“ Goodnight, and I love you too.” Coming to a decision that Maria indeed liked her back, based on her reactions, prompted Angelica to duck her head under Maria’s chin and lightly kissed her neck, her tongue poking through her teeth.

She smiled at Maria’s shock and sudden gasp before cuddling her even tighter, limbs wrapping Maria like a pillow. Angelica felt the tension on her fall before Maria calmed down, even pressing herself against Angelica a bit. Eventually, they peacefully slept fro the rest of the day and night.

For once, neither of them regretted staying up past one.

Hey there! This, as usual, got out of hand and I did not expect myself tone writing so much for this one. Hope you enjoyed this, leave a note or two, and send me requests! Rules on are on my bio.

( you can find my fanfics under the crimson-writer tag )

#margelica #maria x angelica #maria lewis #angelica schuyler #hamilton #modern!hamilton #hamilton the musical #hamilton fanfic #hamilton ships #the schuyler sisters #fluff fanfics #wlw fanfic #crimson-writer

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ruleandruinrpg · 7 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, RED!

You have been accepted for the role of TATIANA LANTSOV. Reading this application made me legitimately laugh out loud -- in the best of ways. She is tenacious, bratty, frivolous, and conniving in the best of ways. A character to remember, a character that will leave you legitimately shook. You captured all of that and more in this single application. I don’t think I could ever see anyone more fitting to portray Tatiana than you. Parts of your application had me laughing in near tears, while others had me feeling sad for the girl that could be so much more. I cannot wait for you to reign her holy terror on the dash and I cannot wait to see how she unfolds in the world of Ravka. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for this application! You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS: Rita (if that gets confusing since there’s also a Rita character, I can just go by Red?)

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 20

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: 6 – The deadline for my internship report is June 20th, and though it’s finished atm, I know I’m gonna be stressing out about it on that first deadline day or so, so I won’t be very active. After that, prepare to never get rid of me. I am halfway through an internship at a news agency, and since I no longer have classes but can’t start publishing things because I chose politics and need a lot of time to get familiar with the specifics of how parliament works until they’re sure I won’t fuck up, I’m finding myself with more free time than I’ve had in months.

TRIGGERS: OMITTED

CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS: scarlettduharts.tumblr.com; agirlnamedsparrow.tumblr.com; aurormoody.tumblr.com; thurstanselwyn.tumblr.com;

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER: Tatiana Dmitrievna Lantsov

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

I have always been fascinated by people who are completely removed from reality.

It’s only natural, then, that one of my favorite archetypes has long since become that of the bad, mad aristocrat - the guileless narcissist dripping with entitlement, oblivious to their own emotional vacancy. Tatiana, with all her envy and penchant for childish grudges, is one of such aristocrats.

But the fun is always in seeing beneath that, isn’t it? Tatiana actually reminds me of Veda Pierce, another rotten, irredeemable brat, but one whose motivations are never explained in the source material, and that I’ve always speculated about.

Tatiana may be frivolous and mean but she’s also quite pitiful. She’s never learnt how to love, how to think, how to work an honest day… Her upbringing left her so blissfully unaware of the real world, such a stranger to pain and want, that she’s forced to make up large problems out of small inconveniences and takes even the grandest things in her life for granted. The girl was denied a large part of what makes a person a person, and with the entitlement instilled into her from birth, it’s really no wonder that that she grew into a monster.

Could she still have become someone good? Sure! Plenty of people turned out a lot better after surviving a lot worse than being a poor little rich girl. It’s not about excusing her. But there are definitely reasons that make Tatiana who she is.

I’d love to get to explore the heart of Tatiana, small and cold and vacant as it may be, to get to the core of a sort of character that is often relegated to the role of minor antagonist in other people’s stories.

I won’t pretend that the Barbie Ferreira faceclaim left me totally cold either. I adore her and leapt with joy as soon as I saw you were using her for a character. Barbie has such a captivating, beautifully decadent look to her – I could honestly go on and on about how striking she is, and she’s absolutely perfect for Tatiana!

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?

-If she were to think clearly, Tatiana would find that she doesn’t want the royal family to fall. That would put her in a very bad position and she evidently does not want to be in it. But Tatiana isn’t thinking clearly. She isn’t and she won’t. A part of her will always ache to see those who fancy themselves above her knocked down from their heights and she’d go against her own self-interest to do it. So if someone were to, let’s say, approach her and bargain with her to spy on her cousin Ana or spread rumors about Anton (which she probably already does, with some discretion), she could easily be persuaded to. She probably wouldn’t even anticipate the dire, dire consequences her actions could have. I like the idea of Tatiana being an instrument to sabotage the royal family without realizing that their fall would bring her down with them.

-I also want to explore the courtship from hell™ with Ilya like crazy! I’d love to see a liaisons dangereuses type of dynamic develop between them, with Tatiana trying to destroy any girl he sleeps with and going atomic on the whole seduction aspect of the issue, eventually ending with a “if I can’t have you no one else will” kind of thing.

- I think it would be fun to explore a rivalry with Darya? Tatiana hates and envies Anastasia with every beat of her black heart, but she loves them too. The thought of being replaced in their heart probably kills her, and she must hate the warmth between her cousin and the Voronov girl.

- One of the things that I’d be the most interested in exploring with Tatiana would be a connection with someone, either grisha or not, who is actually dangerous. Maybe she pisses them off, maybe she amuses them because of how shameless she is, whatever. I just want her to get close enough for them to burst her bubble a little, to make her see that there are people capable of far worse than she is. And not necessarily because they’re worse people, you see? Only because they’ve been had a lifetime of hardship and jumping over loops that never existed in her sheltered life – because they’re better at being bad.

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?: Yes! I wouldn’t want her to get killed off before I had a chance to explore the ideas I have on her, but if it eventually made sense to the plot, I wouldn’t be opposed to it at all! Let’s be honest: Tatiana, at least as she is now, is probably not well-equipped to survive much…

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S):

She wanted to gauge out its eyes and eat them.

Two red gems in a golden necklace, daring her to run her fingers through their surface – bloody and very, very red. She’d cut her teeth if she bit through it. And it only made the urge to press them against her lips all the more tempting, to kiss them before wrapping them around her neck as the other one had.

“Isn’t it lovely?”, Anastasia asked, and Tatiana was plunged back into her cousin’s bedroom, sunk on the divan while the little fool twirled away and banished the red in a fluttering haze of white silk.

“Oh, beautiful”, she spat.

But her cousin was not beautiful. In the eyes of peasants and of the new bourgeoisie, perhaps, untrained to the subtleties of it. Tatiana had finer tastes, a keener eye. Their eyes were too round, the poise in their movements too calculated to hold any grace. Theirs was the beauty of the peasant girl, gone with the first fallen leaf – she did not know how to be a proper princess and it did not belong to them.

“Tatiana”, they called, “are you upset?”

She hadn’t noticed how the hunger had seeped into her features, twisting their softness with a child’s angry pout. A stranger would have found the sight of it juvenile, even endearing. The servants would have quaked in their boots.

“I am not.” But how couldn’t she be, with such a great injustice dangling before her? All the diamonds and emeralds in the world did not matter. She might as well have been dressed in rags without the glorious necklace Anastasia had taken.

“You”, she snapped, pointing towards the nearest servant, “bring me a glass of kvas this instant.”

The mousy boy barely glanced at her before rushing out of the room, long warned of the screams that would come should he take too long to acquiesce. A tall woman entered in his stead. Sour and homely, unworthy of interest.

And yet the voice was cavernous, too proud for a woman of her station.

“The Queen requests your Highness’s presence”, she announced, not meriting Tatiana with a single glance. But oh, how she looked at Ana. Like a fire in winter, her eyes reflecting its warmth despite all the coldness of her posture. For a moment, she forgot to want the eyes in the necklace, the red jewels. She wanted the woman’s colorless ones instead.

That was no way to look at one’s betters.

“Excuse me.”

Anastasia didn’t protest, didn’t so much as ask what the servant wanted. She turned around like an obedient little dove, dropping the necklace on the nearest dresser. They were a haze of white when they left the room, flowing fabric trailing after their heavy black curls.

“Sooka.”

Curse her, she thought, curse her and her bloodline and her blasted crown and all the ugly suitors that may worship at her bland little feet.

Tatiana stretched her legs, her bare feet, scowling at the whiteness of her skin. Rita Jacos had promised to fix its pastiness, but she could still see something waxy, something unworthy of her perfection. And so was the room.

Once, in another room, Tatiana had been read tales of the old Os Alta. She had been very small, then, wrapped in fine frills and with her bare feet dangling from the lap of the old, frumpy woman she had once loved. It didn’t hurt to think of Nanny Baluskaya now – she had been dead for too long. She could hardly recall the texture of the old lady’s wrinkled hands, the frost in her voice when she spoke of the large, unforgiving land they called home and its days of sunlight.

“No mama”, she would order, “tell me more of the palace. I want to hear of the princes and the princesses, not of peasants and wheat!”

And so Mama would tell her of gold and rubies and a time where the palace walls had been draped in them and Tatiana could never understand why it was that the Lantsov’s could not live as lavishly as their ancestors had. The war and the wheat were the peasant’s to worry about, the darkness a grisha affair, none of them of any concern to the nobility.

Tatiana knew now, with her bare feet dangling from the divan and no old woman to hold her, that she would have brought Os Alta to its glory days if she’d been a princess. They’d have red drapes and golden embroidery, heads of the finest beasts mounted on the walls. It infuriated her to think of what could have been.

Until her dark eyes met the red ones across the room.

She felt a smile curl her lips, a quick flash of sharp teeth that nearly stopped the servant on his track when he came to deliver the kvas. Tatiana eyed him with contempt before taking her glass, and tried to keep him from seeing that the smile came from his hesitation as well. Was it for the beauty, she wondered, or for the fear? It didn’t much matter – and neither did he.

Tatiana rose from the divan, glass still in hand, and walked to the drawer to wrap her other greedy hand around the necklace. She marveled at the weight of the gold in her palm. The sly smile returned and then…

She threw it against a mirror in the opposite wall.

It survived, of course. Its eyes were glistening amongst the gold and shards of glass, oblivious to the devastation Tatiana had meant to cause. And the sound of the shattering mirror had nothing on the scream that left her throat. Her freckled cheeks grew red, her throat sore.

“Has something-” the servant didn’t get to finish his sentence before she turned around to throw the glass his way. It shattered against the wall behind him and the boy was left shaking, cowering at her.

“What did you do?”, she yelled, “Do you know how many of you that necklace is worth, you little pig?”

There was a tinge of perversity to it, at first, the hint of a smile in her distorted lips. But Tatiana burnt through it very quickly. At last, the fire of righteous indignation took her, and she had nothing but anger boiling in her blood.

“Please”, the boy begged, “I did nothing. I will call for my mother, she will settle it!”

“Mother?”

What a laugh, what a riot - for the little fool to think he was the son of anyone of worth! She raised her hand and delivered a swift blow across his face.

He began to sob.

“My – my- my mother is the head of the servants, you see?”

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. What did it matter that he was the son of the arrogant woman that had called for her cousin? It shouldn’t even have infuriated her as deeply as it did. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t! She struck the boy twice as hard for daring to voice his unfortunate parentage. Surely he must have known, must have seen how the woman had ignored her – the filthy ugly rat.

The scream that left her throat had nothing human to it, nothing but the full depth of madness in the world, the chaos that must have existed in the parts of Ravka the darkness had long taken. It broke through Tatiana’s body, through her chest. The grief of being made to feel nothing reminded her that she was alive.

“They should have you hung by your entrails and fed to your mama for dinner”, she pronounced every syllable with excruciating clarity, meeting the boy’s gaze for the first time. She saw nothing but the fear in him, the pathetic subservience. And he saw something terrifying.

Her, Tatiana thought, and the word held all the triumph in the world – her saw her.

She raised her head to find a guard walking in their direction, hesitant for only a moment before he too grabbed the boy by the arm. They couldn’t hurt her – not if she screamed, mangled or killed. Her blood was purer than any part of them.

“Is this how you repay my beloved cousin for her kindness?” She was yelling again, all the self-righteousness of a judge with the shrewdness of a harpy.

Tatiana didn’t merit the guard with a glance until a few moments later, when she spoke in his direction. “I suppose the filthy little fleabag meant to break the necklace! But, as you must know, someone like him wouldn’t know the first thing about how strong the piece is. He broke the mirror instead!”

“I could have hurt myself”, she continued, her voice rising an octave higher, “I could have been blinded by the broken glass!”

The guard turned somber. And Tatiana, for all her rage, began to feel a tingle of satisfaction. She laughed when the man dragged the servant away, the taste of it far sweeter than of the bitter kvas.

“Go on little malen'kaya krysa, squeal!”

Tatiana would never know what had happened to the boy and his mother - she would never care. But she did, for the faintest moment, care to know what took the guard’s expression before he turned away to drag the boy.

She would have never have suspected it to be boredom.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS:

-Tatiana had a vast sum of pets during her childhood: a cat, a dog, a pony, a caged lark, even a wildcat. She remembers their names, their beauty and the passing interest they held, and will occasionally mention them. What she forgets is exactly why she was bored of them or what her father did to them afterwards. It’s not something she often thinks about.

-She’s a virgin. Not in the frail, cowardly way some girls are, with their dry entrails and their tiresome insecurities. No, because Tatiana would never reduce herself to that kind of thing. But she has known who will take her virginity since she was a very young girl. She’s disgusted by most men - bored by the young ones, who will avert their eyes from her chest and tremble in her presence, and furious at the old, who open their ghastly mouths and smile like she’s nothing but a piece of flesh. It’s nearly as bad as the rage when they won’t look at her, really… She would have all their heads as a queen. But not his. She’d much rather have Ilya Tsarov’s head intact. He is power, beauty, ice carved into man. Why would she want any of those beastly creatures, when she can have him? Besides, virginity can be a weapon in itself. Tatiana tells herself that she’s quite knowledgeable about the appetites of the flesh already, and that being a virgin doesn’t really put her at a disadvantage against other people. It’s a shame that there are butterflies in her stomach whenever someone comes close to touching her. She’s getting tired of waiting. There’s a good chance she’ll grow irritated soon enough, and an irritated Duchess Tatiana Lantsov is not an enemy Ilya Tsarov wants to face.

- She is plagued by the persistence of a childhood nickname. Tati – a plain, playful thing fit for a bitch or a servant, cracking on the tongues of those not fit to address her even by her proper title. The lowly ones have long learnt not to use it, lest they incur on her wrath. It’s only when those of royal blood utter it that Tatiana is forced to bite down her rage and choke on blackness and bile before she can bite back.

-[TW: Emotional abuse, arranged marriage, just a fucking horror story in general] She didn’t come from love, as some terrible things do. “I will not marry him”, Natalya had said, trembling as they wrapped the gold around her neck. But they painted her mouth, poured something fiery down her throat, and she was married by the morning. They laughed at the foolish girl in her drunken haze, the Queen’s youngest and prettiest sister. She was seventeen. Tatiana’s father was a clever man, rich in name and coin, short and stout, but nonetheless blessed with a slimy smile and an unassuming charm that helped him pull the strings of everyone around him. The truth was that Grigori wanted the Lantsov name for his children, and there was little anyone could have done to stop him. He tried to get Natalya to love him, truly. Why wouldn’t he have? She was so lovely - her stupidity was only another of her many charms. He lavished her in jewelry and ignored the way she would flinch at his touch. It wasn’t his fault he grew bored of her. Her resistance would have tattered through any man’s nerves, and young girls could be quite dull. Tatiana was born a year after they’d married, wide-eyed and even lovelier than her mother. And saints, was she adored! Of course, Natalya was never very present when her daughter was a child, off with her soldiers and the things they gave her to dream… But she more than made up for it with her gifts, with the desperate kisses she would plant on her little girl’s face. Tatiana could never quite understand what was wrong with her mother. But she soon realized that the more accusations of abandonment she made, the more fervent Natalya’s adoration would be. So she grew fluent in the language of pouts and shrieking, saving the best for when her father came to visit. Oh, how Grigori loves her beauty, her pride, the nobility that she embodies! He is, and has always been, utterly enchanted by everything about her. It doesn’t keep him from using her to control Natalya, of course, keeping his wife’s sense of worth at a manageable low by reminding her of what a terrible mother she is, how unloved she is even by her only child. But Grigori likes to think it’s one of the many things he and Tatiana share. He’s sure that there’s a strong bond between them, that he could control her if he really wanted to – the fact that she’s almost as selfish as he is has to mean something!

-Tatiana isn’t stupid - she’s only remarkable at making herself seem so. She’s a clever enough girl and even had a brain for mathematics as a child. She was good at history and geography as well. She’d develop obsessions with different lands and eras, dressing herself and decorating her room in their likeness. But they were nothing but varnish with which to cover her true interest, colorful pieces to be forgotten when the season passed. What she truly loved was her vanity, the details of a world she was sure was all hers to take. And that’s a very stupid thing to think, particularly for a sheltered girl who’s never known loss or had any sort of power that didn’t come from a name or a sore throat. It’s the sort of smug stupidity that can bleed into everything one does.

-Tatiana is an occasional reader, but doesn’t really have the mental persistence for complicated literature. She devours romance novels. The silly girls and and bland boys in their pages amuse her, and she tells herself that’s why she can’t stop reading them. She was also fond of tales of adventurers and explorers as a child, but has long abandoned them to the dust.

-She’s a marvelous dancer, a pitiful sower and an atrocious singer.

-“Make me”, she tells her, and does not say beautiful. Tatiana knows she is beautiful. She knows, and it only makes the flaws all the more glaring, the indifference with which some look at her all the more hurtful. The approval of the others is meaningless. “Make me”, she tells her, “make me perfect”.

EXTRAS:

Inspiration:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=31rVmUuPErQ – Remember how I mentioned that Tatiana reminded me of Veda Pierce and that my take on her was sort of inspired on the character? Veda is middle-class turned new money rather than aristocracy but watch this video and tell me if the utterly delusional, juvenile, hurtful rant around 2:06 and the little fit at the end aren’t SO Tatiana. “But why Veda?” Because she’s a cunt, Mildred, that’s why <3 I listened to this whenever I needed inspiration for the app tbh.

Songs for Tatiana:

(not long, organized or consistent enough to be a playlist, but a valiant attempt nonetheless)

Beauty is empty, mars argo

I see you staring in your mirror

What will it take for you to see

Your pretty smile is a monster

And your beauty is empty

Red lips, Sky Ferreira

Little bitch

Growing so bored of your fits

‘Cause sooner or later, you’re done

And down with the worms

And no one remembers your name

Too bad

Primadonna, Mariana and the diamonds -

I can’t help but I need it all

The primadonna life, the rise and fall

You say that I’m kinda difficult

But it’s always someone else’s fault

Got you wrapped around my finger, babe

You can count on me to misbehave

And I’m sad to the core, core, core

Every day is a chore, chore, chore

When you feel of a whole more more

I wanna be adored

(just the entire fucking song tbh)

Beautiful, Dirty, Rich – Lady Gaga

Bang bang, we’re beautiful and dirty rich – I know this seems hella weak, but the song is one I could see as a soundtrack while Tatiana walks down a room? XD

Gold, Guns, Girls – Metric

All the gold and the guns in the world (couldn’t get you off)

All the gold and the guns and the girls (couldn’t get you off)

All the boys, all the choices in the world

(…)

Is it ever gonna be enough?

Yellow Flicker Beat – Lorde

My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones

It keeps my veins hot, the fires find a home in me

(…)

They used to shout my name, now they whisper it

I’m speeding up and this is the

Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart

Pinterest Board: https://www.pinterest.pt/girlbitesback/character-tatiana/

ANYTHING ELSE? OMITTED

#raraccepted #accepted: tatiana

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sweetismindfulness-blog · 7 years

Text

Aptitude Testing (Johnson O’ Connor Research Foundation)

(****I’m sorry for the excess cussing in this post, but when I feel strongly about something I tend to cuss...a lot..so I apologize beforehand)

So this past week I made the decision to get my aptitude’s tested by the Johnson O’ Connor Research Foundation. They are not well advertised so usually people who get there aptitudes tested discovered it by word of mouth and apparently podcasts.

Anyways, this test cost a shitload of money, $720 to be exact, which is why I had put off taking it for so long. I had actually scheduled an appointment with them last winter but didn’t go through with it because I just couldn’t justify paying that amount.

But after being here in Massachusetts and becoming more aware of my passions and interests (which don’t really revolve around engineering), I became interested in what my aptitudes were.

So after some debating with myself, I decided to go through with it. Because all in all, this is lifelong knowledge about yourself is worth the measly $720. It honestly IS a lot of money, but personally I would rather be aware of my natural aptitudes than go on with the rest of my life not knowing what my natural abilities are and knowing what environments I would strive in. Personally, this knowledge exchange is worth it to me because I struggled a lot with choosing a major and currently am struggling with keeping that major because of failure to find any passion in it. I don’t want to live my life doing something that I do not love and making all the money in the world cannot change my feelings about that. I notice that for me at least, money is not that much of a motivator, of course it does matter a bit in the end, I wouldn’t become a hippie doing nothing with my life, but I wouldn’t specifically scout out and do something for the rest of my life just for the sake of making a steady living. I think that living that way is not the way I want to live my life and I don’t want to be a slave to that sort of fear. Personally I have seen that much too often and heard too many stories involving being a slave to money that I KNOW I cannot live my life that way.

I particularly notice this at my internships. I just see these sad little engineers doing there job, who knows if they’re actually happy because half of them are so antisocial and cannot even look me in the eye when they talk to me. I can’t even tell if they’re depressed or just afraid of girls, but whatever. They don’t look happy to me. The few that WILL actually talk to me, I can tell right away if they’re passionate about what they do or if they are staying in the career just because it is a “safe” option and they’re too afraid to take a risk on something else.

I met an engineering intern who I work sometimes with and he it is him who makes me question why I’m doing engineering. It’s people like him that make me question my choices and life. When i talk to him, I see so much fucking passion in him, so much passion in engineering, passion that I do not have, have never felt for engineering. The only feelings I’ve had for engineering are pain, suffering, anxiety, stress, and hardly ever anything positive. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’ve gotten through 3 years of Electrical Engineering, but god fucking shit it is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. Let me tell you engineering is fucking hard. Especially electrical.

Well anyways, it’s people like him that make me want to fucking switch of of EE and never look back. I think that I tried so fucking hard to convince myself that I would eventually like Engineering, that I would eventually grow to love it and find something just the tiniest something in engineering that I would like. Then only then I would be SUCCESSFUL! But what the FUCK. Why is my mind conditioned to think this way!? Like what the fuck. Why do I think I can only find success in Engineering, being a doctor, dentist, optometrist, things that you’re guaranteed to make a steady living in?! Do I even want that? Does that even appeal to me in the slightest?

I’ve always been one to do things based on feeling and doing engineering just doesn’t FEEL right. If anything it feels all the fucking wrong. I’ve tried so hard to just find some small passion in it, but I’ve failed to find much. I will admit I do like the challenges as it makes me feel like I’m learning something new and doing something useful in my life, but I just can’t find any passion. Whenever I’m free of whatever test, work, project involving engineering. I always want to get the fuck out. I don’t want to think about it or hear it or look at anything related to it. It all feels like forced work to me and nothing passionate.

God why couldn’t I have noticed this sooner.

Well anyways...let me move on to tell you about my Aptitude results.

So for my aptitudes, I tested in the 99th percentile for Ideaphoria and Foresight. So what that means is that I’m able to generate ideas very quickly and constantly. It doesn’t necessarily mean my ideas are good or smart in any way, but I’m able to constantly generate ideas. Which is totally fucking true, which is why I’m always unable to focus and concentrate in class and other mundane tasks. This means I’d make a terrible clerical worker, receptionist, data entry person, anything that doesen’t involve the use of ideas. I need to pursue a career that lets me talk, communicate generate ideas constantly, like a consultant, nutritionist, guidance counselor, teacher, etc...

Well this fucking broke my hear, because none of those careers sounded particularly successful to me as I’ve been conditioned to thinking I could only be successful as an engineer or doctor. So when I heard those results, I honestly thought shittttttt...MY FUCKING hard work...my hours, months, years of studying engineering...fucking wasted...godddd fuckkkkkkk. arjalskdjf;laskjdf;lsf

But then, I calmed down...I calmed myself down and reailzed it’s not the worse thing in the world. It might not even be a bad thing. Like actually this is a good thing. This aptitude test just told me something about myself that I kind of already knew. But it clarified it and confirmed it. I knew deep down actually not even that deep down that I didn’t want to do engineering and now I really know why. It’s because engineering doesn’t utilize my fucking aptitudes!

So let me tell you a little bit more about my aptitude results that I found pretty interesting. So I scored high in ideaphoria, but the low to average scores were in the fucking engineering aptitudes! Like holy shit. OF FUCKING COURSE...

It’s so funny, because the lady who was explaining my aptitudes to me actually knew that I was majoring in Electrical Engineering and I could already sense the sympathy in her tone when she was telling me I scored average/low in the aptitudes engineers usually score high in. It was really funny actually because I could really feel her sympathy. I don’t know. I just thought it was funny because she knew how hard engineering was. Then when I assured her I knew it wasn’t the right field for me she relaxed and joked around.

She even said something that I found quite interesting. She said how she was surprised I had stuck with engineering for so long(knowing Junior year was the most difficult) since my aptitudes were not cut for engineering or hardly anything technical. She said this was most likely due to another aptitude I had tested high in, which was Foresight. Foresight meant that I tend to look at the future and constantly make goals to hit. I usually stick with these goals no matter what and make sure to accomplish it.

And fuck yeah she was right. Before transferring, I had promised myself I would stick with my goal to pursue Electrical Engineering and get my degree, because I knew it would be hard, but I believed that no matter how hard it was, I could overcome it. So yeah I studied fucking day and night and memorized the shit out of that textbook. But no matter how hard I studied, I just couldn’t retain the fucking knowledge, no wonder. It’s because engineering doesn’t utilize my aptitudes in anyway nor my passion. I mean if I had any passion in engineering I could overcome those obstacles, but honestly I fail to find any passion in it. I’ve tried so hard, so fucking hard. But I honestly can’t find passion. It saddens me because through hard work all things are possible right?

Well I realized that no matter how hard I work, I can’t create passion out of nothing and passion was just simply never there for engineering.

But this opened up a new door. The aptitude review lady told me she herself tested high in Ideaphoria which is why she was a counselor and she loved it.

She believed that I too could find something I loved doing and commit all my time and energy to something I loved. She suggested Nutritionist/Dietitian because she noticed that I had wrote that on my sheet that asked what my past career choices were(even if I had no real intention to pursue them). I had listed Nutritionist/Health Psychiatrist because I remember my mom had one time mentioned that to me because I became extremely aware of my health one day and that has kept up until today. I had never really thought too much about it until this lady pointed it out. Yeah, I guess I do pay attention to nutrition and have struggled through an eating problem for the past 6 years. Maybe I can use these skills to help others and make a difference in the world. Maybe I can be successful through something other than engineering.

At least I know that I am an extremely disciplined individual that can obtain an Electrical Engineering degree through only discipline and hard work. While not having any passion for the subject whatsoever. I mean I think that’s pretty impressive if I say so myself.

I’ve always been the type to go after exactly what I want and I’m a pretty drastic person as well. If I think of something I want to do, I usually do it right away. Which isn’t always a good thing, actually most the time it hurts me more than it helps me. But I think that this is something I need to speak with more people about and research. But I definitely feel better after writing this out. Hey I guess I do generate a lot of ideas haha. I wrote so much now that I’m scrolling up to the top. hahahhahaa. oh god. But in all honesty I fully extend my support out to the Johnson O’ Connor research foundation. And I honestly believe everyone should just spend the money and take this test, because it is honestly not that much money to spend on something that can change your life forever. I mean everyone is different of course, your aptitudes might not help you as much as they helped me. But, please if you are struggling to find your calling in life, please take this test. It has changed my perception on things and helping me move on from something that was holding me back and leading me to a new adventure.

Best wishes,

#aptitude #testing #skills #aptitudetest #johnsonoconnor #passion #engineering #nutrition #life #learning #lifelessons #mindfulness

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