#and i have to do a little quiz and get a little certificate saying i understand sex and gender considerations in research???

[metamercury]

I have a problem, and the problem is the false binary

#i had to do a sex and gender in health research module for this class and now i'm PISSED #really all that talk about sex and no discussion of intersex??? no discussion on how fluid even the biological concept of sex is??? #Your sources are talking about “between the sexes”????? #You're citing papers from 2001 with no discussion of the context and environment in which they were written????? #and i have to do a little quiz and get a little certificate saying i understand sex and gender considerations in research??? #BUDDY YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SEX AND GENDER CONSIDERATIONS IN HEALTH RESEARCH #imagine trying to teach people to consider sex and gender from WITHIN THE BINARY #that is where our tri-council funding agencies are #fuck you canada #still defective

[manidk1273]

🎀 — Prodigy

You were the result of a one night stand, your mother tried to "baby-trap" Tony but of course that didn't work. Though, by law— (and since your mother was unstable) you were under the custody of your father, Tony Stark. As the years pass.. he notices a lot about you.

You were the only (known) child of Tony Stark by far. Being only 2 weeks old when the mess happened, you didn't even have a name— You were only given one once your father, Tony Stark won the case. He chose a wonderful name for you.

You couldn't be more grateful. Sure, you were unplanned and it was a little bit messy but he loves you so much. He calls you his greatest creation. You didn't disappoint too. Of course the Stark's were known as geniuses. And you weren't excluded.. in fact, you progressed so much faster than any of your predecessors that scientists wanted to study you at the age of 7 months old. Of course, as your legal guardian and awesome father, Tony immediately turned down the offer.

At age 2, you could already properly read and write. With perfect grammar, you could write long informative text— even stories.

At age 4, you already were learning the fundamentals of mathematics. Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication, Division. And since your father didn't want you to go to public or private schools (too many risks.) he hired personal tutors for you. You already were progressing faster than anyone he ever saw before, and he was so proud.

At age 5, You already could understand the simpler inventions your father made. And it was better since he would explain it step-by-step to you. And this was your favourite time of the day, not only because you get to learn but also because you get to spend time with your dad.

At age 6— your IQ was just.. off the charts. You were devouring knowledge, information like it was your favourite food! And as the caring, loving father Tony is, he happily provided you the things you need (including his love and care.).

You were the youngest of many things. You were already marked as a genius at age 2. Not only did he find out you were a genius an interesting characteristic of yours is that you NEVER, ever forget. You even remembered everything that happened when you were 2 weeks old. You remember the exact date, location and time.. it was insane.

At age 7, you were already competing with competitors 5 times your age. And surprisingly, you won every competition you were in. But of course, you're humble. (Pepper teaches you to always be humble.)

You never ceased to stop learning. It was your hobby, it was fun for you. Everything you read was always imprinted in your mind instantly.

Tony is just.. the definition of proud whenever you do something. Whether it be winning a simple chess match, quiz bee.. trivia, whatever. In fact, he has two whole rooms dedicated to you. With your certificates, trophies, medals. He's just so proud.

As he says,

“ You're my pride and joy, kid. ”

That's currently my first ever try writing in Tumblr, I don't usually write much anymore but I used to be a writer in Wattpad and AO3 😅

I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes I did, please point it out so I can fix them! Much appreciated.

Thank you so much if you reached the end, good day to you<3

#tony stark #iron man #iron dad #tony stark x son!reader #proud parent #first post #tony stark x daughter!reader #no use of y/n #no pronouns #:) #<3 #Velvqtte🎀

[gilmorelee]

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Related but lesser-known hashtags can slender your reach to an audience who can be likely to engage together with your LinkedIn content. Social Media Ideas From Pinterest's Advertising Strategy It might take some time to extend the visitors but steadily the pins should work in enhancing the picture of the model. Your content material is what is going to drive traffic and increase your brand’s reach ultimately. Google My Business SchedulerSchedule photographs, movies, and provides on your GMB areas. They assist you to get to the top of search outcomes much quicker than natural pins. A paid marketing campaign offers you access to extra keyword information that's not available for organic pins. It additionally offers you detailed details about your conversions. You will find a detailed rationalization in How to Get Ready for Business on Pinterest. Several pins that I produced over a year ago continue to pop up in Pinterest feeds and generate visitors. 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#colab

[moonlight-frittata]

I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500 

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil. 

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??” 

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days. 

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.” 

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said. 

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems. 

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign. 

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand. 

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed. 

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor. 

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand. 

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.  

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day. 

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.” 

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips. 

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement. 

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon. 

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor. 

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again. 

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior. 

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to  fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you. 

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to. 

Remember this! 

Oh how is so and so?  

Damn, that was 5 years ago already? 

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself. 

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding. 

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar. 

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm. 

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.” 

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove. 

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair. 

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners. 

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar. 

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone. 

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it. 

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.” Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

“That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment. 

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software. 

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?” 

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.” 

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence. 

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused. 

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known? 

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. 

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?” 

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips. 

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone. 

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am. 

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean. 

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

#overwatch #mekamechanic #dva #brigitte lindholm #laura writes #man I've been poking at this for ever finally time to just put it out in the world so I can think about something new ahaha #hope you like! #hana song #(also there was no 300 page onboarding manual until Pharah wrote it)

[daaedoodles]

this is so mean but “go on, say hello” for our kids!au thing?? 🥺 ITS SO CUTE WE HAVE TO WRITE IT TOGETHER

“Ava, come on. Go say hello.”

“I am not-“ The shorter blonde girl clenches her tiny fists, and before the older boy can react, stamps her red-converse clad foot into his. “Going to talk to her!”

“Ow!” Connor exclaims, reaching down to pull his bare foot into his hand, rubbing the top of his toes. “What was that for?” He groans, scrunching his eyes shut as another wave of pain hits him.

Ava folds her arms, pulling them close to her chest. She turns away with a ‘hmmph’, always one for the dramatic. “Because you’re being a dumbass!”

Connor raises his brows, squinting at the expletive, and even turned away from him he can see her face flushing red as she presses her lips together in a pout. She begins quieter, a total one-eighty from her usual loud self. “No way, I’m not talking to her.”

Ava sounds almost nervous and Connor pulls his lips behind his teeth trying desperately not to grin, because the curly haired brunette sitting a a few metres away from the two of them, hunched over a piece of paper with her small hands clutching a rainbow of markers, turns his otherwise rowdy and confident friend into a total wreck. He feels a little smug, and he won’t deny the fact that he’s having way too much fun teasing her about it.

He glances over at Ava, who’s staring absently at the girl in total silence and at this point, it was more than a common occurrence. Ever since that girl Sarah Reese shakily stepped onto the school stage to receive a certificate for coming second in a regional schools quiz, Ava spent much of her lunches ignoring her food, rather turning all her attention to the pretty curly-haired girl. Sarah had caught her staring more than a few times, but Ava would glance away the second she looked in her direction, leaving Sarah blinking at Connor in confusion for a few moments before returning to whatever she’d been doing.

Connor’s conflicted.

On one hand, this is great for him - Ava being distracted by this girl all the time meant he could keep stealing the baked goods in her lunchboxes, but on the other, it was kind of creepy and poor Sarah was probably incredibly confused why this random third grader kept looking at her. Though, for those homemade brownies that Anya Bekker packs, he’s torn. It’s a little selfish, he knows, but just about anything in Ava’s lunch is better than whatever his parent’s maids pack carelessly into his bag.

He sighs, and makes his choice. Connor steps forward, and it’s only when he enters Ava’s field of vision when the younger girl realises what he’s doing. “You butthead don’t you da-“ She cuts herself off, having been louder than she intended Sarah looks up at her, then turns up to Connor who’s looming above her at his full height.

She blinks dumbly, tilting her head.

Connor squats down, his leather shoes squeaking beneath him - he’d gotten them at his fathers insistence, wearing sneakers wasn’t classy - as he rests his forearms on his thighs with his hands hanging off the opposing legs. Even like this, he’s still taller than the young girl.

“You’re Sarah Reese right?”

She blinks again before nodding slowly, her felt-tipped markers now abandoned atop her sheet of paper. Ava cringes a little when the wind blows, a light green marker rolling to a stop at her feet. She reaches down, pinching it between the tips of her fingers, weary not to get any residual chip-grease that escaped her washing onto the marker.

“My friend there - Ava - thinks you’re really cool. She’s too shy to ask herself but..”

Connor can practically feel his body aching in anticipation for the foot stomping and elbowing that he’s certain he’s going to get - he can already tell Ava is standing there planning all of the ways she can get back at him for doing this, and he just knows he’s dug himself only deeper into his own grave by calling her shy in earshot.

“She wanted to ask if you wanted to be her friend.” He offers a smile, tilts his head and holds out his hand.

“Do you want to be our friend?”

pls leave comments and reblog if you like it! me and peach love this kids!au with all our heart it is our child 🤲

#kids!au #mutuals <3 #peach tag #chicago med fanfiction #chicago med #sarah reese #ava bekker #connor rhodes

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (1)

Omg I can’t believe it’s taken me THIS long to post this. I wrote this chapter probably in like April or May and it freaks me out to finally post but here it is!

My slow burn (American) High School AU with Tom Holland!

All the general info for this series is on the story masterlist, but I’ll list warnings and word counts on every chapter. Chapters will be much longer than my typical 2000 or less babies

Warnings: This will become a mature story in the future (no smut; more info on masterlist). Some profanity in this chapter

Word Count: 4140 (I told you!)

% approximately the 2nd week of August %

Ah, senior year. One last year of high school, one last year of seeing the people you’ve grown up with every day.

You’ve been told it’s easy. The best year ever. And yeah, maybe it will be. It’s not like you’re taking too many hard classes or overloading yourself with extracurriculars, aside from volleyball, soccer, the National Honors Society, and quiz bowl.

(Okay maybe it was a little much, but you loved it anyways)

The only real problem was the certified thorn in your side, Tom Holland. 

He’d essentially been your mortal enemy since the sixth grade when he beat your mile time by only a few seconds. 

Now, it’s not that he was a bully or anything, he was just so insufferable to be around. And yes, everyone always says boys pick on girls when they like them, but rest assured that wasn’t the case. You’d both always hated each other, nothing more. 

You were always competing, and because of that ended up in the same place a lot.

He was in all your honors classes, in NHS, played boys soccer, and did quiz bowl. The only thing you had to yourself was volleyball except, oh wait, his younger brother’s girlfriend was on the team and Tom was his ride home every day.

All these thoughts raced through your head as you walked in on the first day, sitting down in AP calculus as soon as you finished up at your locker. 

Everyone did the “how was your summer?” and “long time no see!” as students filed in. Eventually walked in Tom, and you shot each other a glare as he sat down right next to you.

“Holland.”

“Y/l/n.”

Everyone around you groaned. They all knew you two were forces to be reckoned with and probably dreaded spending another year listening to the two of you bicker everyday.

Though you were often in close proximity, you never really talked much, except to argue. Rarely did you agree unless it was on basic facts, and even then was it hard to admit sometimes.

Because of this, you typically resigned yourselves to only speaking when it came to grades so you could keep a mental tally of who was in the lead. You were both in the running for valedictorian at the end of the year, and you were not about to let Tom win.

%

The week was almost over and things had gone smoothly for the most part. 

Sure, you and Tom had had a couple of spats, but nothing that wasn’t handled quickly. 

He’d been to all of your volleyball games so far, even the summer ones, which meant he was forced to watch you dominate the court as both a setter and right side hitter.

It was a nice little satisfaction. 

Especially because you’d watched him throw some horrendous passes in the preseason football game last week that led to a loss by one touchdown. (Okay, he’d had some good passes too, but they were lucky shots).

You settled into your seat in senior home economics Friday before lunch. The class was your school’s attempt at teaching some life skills for rising adults. For the most part however, it was a glorified cooking and sewing class. You didn’t mind per say, since you could cook up a pre-snack lunch sometimes.

Most of your friends were in there, including your best friend Alexis, whom you hadn’t seen all morning.

You, Alexis, and two other girls stood around a mixing bowl with the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies since it was a Friday, which Mrs. Flynn called “dessert day.”

“Oh! Before I forget,” your teacher, Mrs. Flynn, started getting everyone’s attention. “This year we’re doing something new for this class! Next week I’ll have you all split into pairs for a semester long marriage project! I will be drawing names out of a hat, so don’t get too comfortable yet. Anyways, be thinking on what kinds of careers you might want and things of that nature! Okay, now get back to your desserts!”

The whole room broke out into chatter the last part of the hour-and-a-half class, people speculating who might end up with who and what jobs they’ll get.

“Oh my God, wouldn’t it be funny if y/n got Tom?” Alexis stated as you stirred chocolate chips into the dough. The other girls laughed as you just snorted.

“Yeah, I’d rather lick the inside of the microwave than be paired up with him for a semester,” you replied, earning more laughter from your friends.

You assumed Tom’s friends were saying the same however, because when you looked over to see how bad their dough looked, he was rolling his eyes as his group pointed in your direction.

%

The next week came and went, and it was once again Friday. Or, as Mrs. Flynn was calling it, Wedding Day.

Every time she’d pull a couple’s name, she was going to make you both come to the front of the class and exchange plastic wedding rings and sign a fake marriage license.

Yay.

Everyone chattered excitedly as she tore up the strips with your names and mixed them around. Finally the time came for her to start the drawing.

“Okay, friends. First up we have...” she drew the first name. “Katherine and... drumroll please?” 

The class drummed their hands over their thighs.

“Chris! Come on down folks, let’s get this marriage on!”

She “married” the first couple, and then continued to draw. You had to admit that you were a little nervous, but still eager to see who you’d get.

Two couples later, she pulled Tom’s name.

You shot him an eyebrow raise to which he returned a discreet middle finger. You rolled your eyes as you prepared a drumroll for Mrs. Flynn.

“And his lucky partner is... y/n!”

“What!” you both exclaimed simultaneously.

Almost the entire class burst into laughter.

“Mrs. Flynn, this has to be a mistake,” you said.

“Yeah, can’t we have a redraw?” Tom asked. 

You hated that he was agreeing with you.

“Nope! You get who you get and you don’t throw a fit! And if it doesn’t work out in a few weeks we can discuss divorce plans.”

“How about annulments,” you stated dryly, earning a chuckle from her.

“That… kinda depends on if you have kids,” she trailed awkwardly before perking back up. “Now come on down! They always say your first marriage is the most memorable!”

“Who has ever said that?” Tom asked.

“You know. They. Now just get up here and do the ring thing!” she commanded.

You both sulked up to the front of the room.

“Okay, now stand here facing each other and hold hands.”

“Do we have to?” Tom whined.

“Yes, now do it and it’ll be over with faster.”

He groaned, rolled his eyes, and grabbed your hands, holding them loosely.

“May I have the rings please!” Mrs. Flynn asked Caroline, the girl whose desk was closest that she’d asked to be designated ring bearer. She handed over the basket to let you both choose from the mix.

You took a silver colored ring with a faux white diamond in the shape of a star. Tom chose one with an oval “ruby.” You couldn’t help but notice how every single person was on edge watching the two of you.

“Okay now Tom, repeat after me. I, Tom Holland, take thee, y/n y/l/n, to be my wedded wife to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

He mumbled through the vow, avoiding eye contact, and slipped your star ring onto your finger. You were surprised at how gentle he was, carefully caressing your hand and making sure the ring faced straight up once it was on your finger.

You, too, said the lines and placed the ring onto his left hand.

“Alright. It is with the power vested in me by this very school that I am proud to now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now air kiss!”

You took a deep sigh and pretended to kiss each other's cheeks. 

“Class, I’d like to introduce you all to Mr. and Mrs. Holland!”

They began to cheer and clap and laugh when you interjected.

“Uh, no. It’s Mr. and Mrs. y/l/n.”

Tom began to argue with you when Mrs. Flynn stopped you both.

“Alright fine, we’ll do a combined name. How’s the y/l/n-Holland family sound?” she asked, writing your names on the fake marriage certificate.

With reluctance, Tom agreed to having your name first and you both signed the paper.

Finally you were able to sit back down where your friends were waiting.

“So what was that about licking the microwave?” Alexis asked.

“Oh shut up.”

%

After your volleyball game (another win!), you and Alexis conversed over cheese fries at your favorite diner.

“Still not ready to talk about today?” she asked. You shook your head.

Alexis had been paired up with Caroline. They were both straight, but you had both been friends with her since freshman year and they got along well.

Today had just been the marriages, and next week you’d be learning more about your family dynamics.

“I’m just so pissed at him. This afternoon in senior art he told all the guys in there that he was going to make it as hard as possible for me. I mean jokes on him, he’s going to want to get an A too, but he was just so smug about it. He also strung his stupid ring on that necklace he’s always wearing. What’s that all about?”

“I mean you’re still wearing your ring. But yeah, that is a little weird.”

“I’m wearing mine because compared to some of the others, the star is actually cute.”

“True. I got unlucky with the selection,” Alexis admitted, digging hers out of her purse to show you a big square blue gem.

“I just wish there was a way to get back at him after all these years. I mean, we’ve been at each other’s throats for almost six years but nothing has ever seemed to really hit hard. This is the last year I’ve got to really make it count.”

Alexis gave you a look, one you knew to be quite mischievous. 

“You know what’s the best way to get revenge on a guy?” Alexis asked.

“Uh, no, but by the look you’re giving me it seems to fall under Carrie Underwood ’before he cheats’ directive.”

“No, dumbass. You make his family fall in love with you.”

It took a second to process what she said before you could give a decent reply.

“You’re kidding right? His family already knows who I am because of all the stuff we’re in together. They probably also know about our rivalry. I mean, he’s told his brothers to never become friends with me.”

“And you know that, how?”

“The libero is Sam’s girlfriend. She’s been spilling tea for me for the past year.”

There was a break in the conversation as the waiter brought your meals out. Once he was gone, you spoke up again.

“Look, do you really think that would work? I mean sure I’d get under his skin, but it doesn’t really constitute revenge, does it?”

“Look at it this way,” Alexis put down her burger so she could splay her hands out in front of her. “If you can get on everyone else's good side, they’ll all talk about how much they love you and he’ll be forced to listen. If he really hates you, it’ll drive him crazy.”

You thought on it for a minute as you chomped on a chicken tender. 

“Alright, I’m in. If it doesn’t end up working, I still have all of next semester to mess with him anyways. Now if I can just figure out how to really get to know his family…”

%

By the time Monday rolled around, you and Alexis had done some more scheming, but your plan wouldn’t even begin to be put in action until your volleyball games Wednesday and Friday, when you’d try to talk to Sam.

You sat down in home ec, where today you’d be picking careers. The catch, however, was that your family unit would have a set income, so each couple had to decide how it would be split up.

“Y/l/n-Holland family, you’ll be making $200k a year,” Mrs. Flynn announced, handing you the slip of paper. “Get together and decide who’s getting what jobs.”

“At least we’ll be rich,” you thought as Tom plopped into the seat next to you unhappily.

“So I’ll be the doctor and you’ll be the trophy wife, right?” he asked immediately.

“Hah, good one. I think we all know that I’m the smarter one here and wayyyy more likely to get into med school than you. And don’t call me trophy wife. I mean, what, you think I’m hot now? Can’t wait to tell everyone that little number.”

His ears turned beet red and he balled a fist.

“I don’t think you’re hot, except maybe hot shit. It’s a figure of speech.” he spat.

“Oh get over yourself. I know I’m hot anyways. Let’s just both pick jobs that earn $100k so we can be equal. How’s that sound?” 

“Fine.”

He played with the plastic ring on his necklace as you looked up jobs on the computer. After a half hour of searching, Tom and you decided that to be fully equal, you’d both take the same job as physician’s assistants.

“Just so you know, I’ll never actually be anyone’s assistant,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Ten years time if you’re lucky I’ll hire you as mine.”

He rolled his eyes. 

“Hey everyone, since class is almost over, we’re gonna wait to draw how many kids you’ll have and other financial things Wednesday. See you then!” Mrs. Flynn called out as students packed their things.

“We have to have kids, too?” Tom asked incredulously.

“Good thing it’s fake. I’d hate to see you as a parent,” you shot smugly, earning another middle finger from him that left you laughing.

%

Wednesday came kids, and thankfully all you got were twin girls, age 9. The project didn’t make you carry around flour babies or anything like that, you just had to account for them in your weekly budgets. 

There goes the annulment plan, though.

Each week, Mrs. Flynn would be drawing something new for you all that would either be good or bad for your budgets, and it was up to you to figure out what to with the funding, or lack thereof. You also had to come up with a story each week that explained why money was put somewhere or what your “family” did that week. 

 She would also be doing progress checks, so you couldn’t wait until the end of the semester to do all the work. By the end, each couple would have to give a presentation over what they did and learned.

“Okay, so we each get to name one. That’s pretty equal,” you stated, thinking up baby names.

“Well I like Elizabeth,” he almost immediately replied, writing it down on one of the “birth certificates” you’d been handed by Mrs. Flynn.

“That’s… surprisingly good. I’ll go with Francesca. What about middle names? I like Rose.”

“Hm. How about Opal? Then they’ll have the same number of letters in their names.”

You were surprised at how much though he put into this, but let it go as you wrote your child’s name down.

“By the way, we need to plan time to get together and write a budget and find a house this weekend. I have a volleyball game Friday so how about Saturday?”

“I have football practice Saturday.”

“Well yeah but only until like 10 right? We could just meet at like 1. We’re doing construction at my house right now so could we do it at yours?” 

You spoke sweetly in an attempt to receive a yes and put your plan into motion. Tom sighed and thought about it.

“I mean I guess. But you’re only going to be there to work on the project and then leave right?”

“Uh, duh. The less time with you the better.”

“Likewise.”

%

Tom and Sam weren’t at the volleyball game Wednesday, so you had to wait until Friday’s.

Friday was muffin day in home ec, so you thankfully didn’t have to talk to Tom. Instead, you and Alexis discussed the plan of getting Tom’s family on your side as you mixed up batter.

Later that afternoon, you watched from afar as Sam and his girlfriend, Julia, sat on the bleachers speaking. It was still an hour until game time and coach had asked you to round up the girls for stretching.

“Hey, Jules!” you called, jogging over to where she was. “Oh, hey Sam!” He looked at you like you were crazy before responding.

“Uh, hey y/n.” He gave a slight head nod.

“Anyways, coach wants us to start warming up. Wanna be my partner today?” 

“Um yeah. Sure. See ya later babe,” she said, giving Sam a quick peck on the cheek before standing up to follow you.

After another win, you were helping take down the net and noticed Julia once again talking to Sam while Tom stood a few feet away looking bored. 

“Hey, could you wrap up the net? I need to do something real quick,” you said to another teammate as you headed over.

“Hey, Jules! Solid digs today! You were making my job way too easy,” you joked.

You could see from the corner of your eye Tom look up at you in annoyance.

“Ahaha thanks girl. But I can’t take all the credit. You were on fire tonight. What was that like 15 aces? And your hits? Incredible,” she replied.

“Yeah, you were amazing tonight,” Sam added. 

“Ohhhkay we can stop the compliment parade on y/n now. We need to go anyways, Sam, mom wants us home,” Tom interjected, putting an arm out in front of his brother, who was rolling his eyes.

“Alright fine. We still on for dinner tomorrow?” Sam asked his girlfriend. She nodded and they exchanged a quick hug and kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow too, Tom,” you said. “I’ll bring my laptop.” 

Sam looked at him in confusion.

“Yeah whatever,” was all Tom could say to you as you strutted off to the locker room.

%

You stood nervously on the front porch of Tom’s suburban home. You had texted him when you parked but now dreaded actually going inside. 

After shifting back and forth for a minute, you finally rang the doorbell. 

It was only a few seconds later that the door opened, revealing Sam’s twin Harry. He looked confused.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” 

“Hey Harry. Tom and I are supposed to be working on a school project today and he said to come over at this time so...” You awkwardly shifted your backpack straps and looked down.

“Tom! Someone’s here to see you!” he yelled out, making you snort.

He appeared shirtless in the doorway and looked at you blankly.

“Oh. It’s just you.”

“Just me? What did you just forget that we have to work on our project today,” you replied, holding up your left hand to point to the plastic ring on it.

“You’re still wearing that? Why?”

“Firstly, the little star is cute. And secondly, you don’t have a lot of room to speak, Tom. Yours is still on your necklace,” you pointed to the chain around his neck, to which he instinctively reached up and grabbed the ring, twisting it between his fingers. 

“Touche. Now come on, let’s just get this over with.” He opened the door wider and let you in, locking it behind you. 

As he led you down a hall covered in photos towards the stairs, his mom stepped out, almost running into her son.

“Oh, sorry.” she looked at you, “Y/n? What are you doing here? It’s nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Holland. Tom and I have to work on our home ec project and we couldn’t do it at my house.”

“Oh dear just call me Nikki. And I do remember him mentioning something about a project. Are you the one he’s married to? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Tom tensed up and clenched his jaw while you gave a light chuckle, holding up your left hand again.

“I hate to say it, but yeah. You’ll probably be seeing a lot more of me throughout the semester.”

“Well you kids have fun. And Tom, honey, would it kill you to put on a shirt?”

He went red again and you had to stifle your laughter.

“I was just on my way to do that, mom. Come on y/n,” he mumbled, grabbing your wrist and dragging you up the stairs.

You turned and waved at Nikki one last time as she called up behind him,

“And make sure to keep the door open!”

He was totally embarrassed by that, and made it a point to shut the door behind him once you made it to his room. Finally you could let out a hearty laugh at his expense as he dug through his drawers and pulled out a simple black t-shirt.

“Finally. I was getting tired of looking at your man boobs,” you quipped, looking around the room.

“Ha ha. Good one,” he shot back dryly. 

You were surprised at what his room looked like, though you didn’t know what you’d expected. It was very neat with sleek grey walls. His blue and grey bedding was made up with decorative pillows laid out. On his desk were a few random school papers and a computer, and one shelf held some Spider-Man paraphernalia while another contained medals and ribbons and trophies. 

You dropped your backpack to the ground and pointed up at one figurine.

“Hey, that’s pretty cool,” you said sincerely.

“Yeah, I’m sure you think so,” he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Uh, no. I’m serious. It’s actually really dope.” 

He looked taken aback at your compliment, and even to you it felt weird to be saying that out loud about Tom of all people.

“Oh. Well uh. Thanks. Spider-Man was my favorite growing up. But let’s just get to work.”

After an hour of sitting on his carpet searching for a house and arguing over general money allocations,

“Yes Tom, tampons actually cost like $7 for 30 of them and most girls need at least one box a month. And that’s just one factor of personal hygiene. Do you even condition your hair?”

“I’ll have you know my hair is well moisturized. I just don’t ever have to pay for it.”

You finally came to an agreement on the week’s budget. 

Packing up your things, you looked up at Tom who was now sitting on the side of his bed scrolling through social media.

“So next week. Your first game of the season, yeah?” you said, remembering that September was already almost here. 

“Oh yeah. You coming? I’d hate for you to see just how incredible I am.”

“Psh whatever. I saw your throws at preseason. But yeah, I’ll probably just rinse off after my volleyball game and head to the field. Gotta see what cuties they’ve got on the other team.”

“Ugh gross. You know you’ll regret saying that when half the school is swooning over me in the stands.”

“The only thing you’d ever see me swoon from is dehydration. And that’s a pretty weak excuse already.”

You stood and Tom got up to lead you back out.

“Oh, I think I know the way. You don’t have to take me.”

“Yeah I do. Gotta keep my eyes on those grubby little fingers of yours. Who knows what you’d do unsupervised.”

Before you reached the door, Nikki spotted you from the living room.

“Done so soon? Wow, good job guys. Come back any time y/n!”

“Thanks, Nikki,” you called back to her, then turned to Tom. “So same time next week? We can do it at my place if you want.”

“Nah let’s just do it here. I’m always exhausted the day after a game and I don’t really want to get up.”

Okay then

“Well, see ya Monday then. Bye.”

You were halfway down the sidewalk when Tom called out, “Be safe,” before shutting the door. You stopped in your tracks in shock, but eventually got into your car.

What really mattered, though, was that you were already on Nikki’s good side.

1 down, 4 to go.

%

Yay! It’s finished! I really hope you guys enjoy this new series because I’m so excited to share it with you all! Once again, future chapters will have some mature content (s*xual harassment and mentions of assault; underaged alcohol consumption) but those chapters will be explicitly labeled with warnings.

Anyways, thanks for reading and please send an ask or message if you’d like to join my story or permanent tag list!

Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl,

#The Marriage Project #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #enemies to lovers #slow burn #Harry Holland #sam holland #tom holland au #high school!au #high school!tom holland

[mhdiaries]

Wave 2 Diary of Draculaura

15♥September

I “broke up” with Jackson Jekyll today... not that we were ever really dating I mean officially, which would have been nice but every time he would ask me out he would totally pull the invisible boy act on me and not show up. Or call. The next day he was always very sweet and apologetic but he could never remember why he forgot our date. I guess the final nail in the coffin was when he didn’t meet me at this party and I totally felt like a one tombstone graveyard. I ended up dancing with this scary hot DJ named Holt Hyde who acted like he knew me although I’m pretty sure that we hadn’t met before. Jackson and I are still friends but sometimes that’s just how the tombstone crumbles.

25♥September

Went to the beach with Frankie, Clawdeen and Clawd to watch Lagoona surf. It was a beautiful day, which meant I had to break out the sunscreen although the stuff I have to use is more like sunwall. It’s so thick it’s like being coated in honey and it’s like a sand magnet so I pretty much have to stay on a blanket the whole time or I end up looking like a sand sculpture. Oh well, it’s worth the annoyance to get to spend the day at the beach.

30♥September

I stayed up late reading a new novel about a forbidden romance between a werewolf girl and a vampire boy... like that would ever happen... but it’s so sweet and tragic I couldn’t put it down. Of course I slept through my alarm and was almost late for school, which meant my makeup was a mess cause I couldn’t take my time putting it on. Luckily, Ghoulia saw me before anyone else did and she helped me straighten it out so I didn’t walk into my first class looking like an undead clown... not that there’s anything wrong with that.

1♥October

I took one of those quizzes to see what kind of creature I am - I think all the teen monster mags have them now - which seems kind of strange since like I already know. Anyway, the quiz had questions ike: What is your favorite haunt? What is your favorite food? Would you rather be dead or undead? Do you run, shamble, fly or ooze? So after I answered all the questions I turned to the back to read: Congratulations! You are a Woodland Nymph! You are kind, gentle and love sunshine and nature. You probably make your home in a tree where you enjoy the company of many woodland animals that you would never scare or eat. I wonder if I should share this with father? LOL... maybe not = )

7♥October 

Clawd and Spectra had a monster argument today and it created such a fuss that both of them got called into Headmistress Bloodgood’s office. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Clawd so angry or Spectra so self-righteous but neither of them would talk about it when they came out of HHB’s office - not even to me! Clawdeen thinks it has something to do with Cleo and Clawd but I totally don’t understand how she made that connection. Now Clawdeen is mad at Cleo. Again. This is really sad and since it seemed like they were starting to actually tolerate each other.  

12♥October

I know a lot of monsters are not excited about having to write an essay on our monster heritage but I think it’s creeperifically cool! First of all, I’m writing a screenplay about my un-life and I think this will really help the third act and secondly because it gives me the opportunity to set the record straight about a couple of things. Beginning with the fact that my father is much older than any monster realizes. I mean he was already a vampire back when togas were first considered fashionable... sooo glad father doesn’t wear one anymore. Then there was that whole identity theft calamity that happened when we rented our castle in Transylvania to a total con-monster who went around pretending to be father. Now I have to carry a copy of my death certificate to prove that I really am as old as I say I am cause some monsters think I must be related to that loser. Unfortunately for the imposter his bats came home to roost and not in a good way either. The rest of my story, like how father took in me and my mother when no one else would and why I’m a vegan vampire I’m going to save for the screenplay which I would like to film in pink and white. How scary cool would that be?

16♥October

In the span on 3 days Clawdeen missed a test in Mad Science, a school dance and a buy one get one shoe sale at the Maul. Frankie and I knew something had to be wrong but Clawdeen wouldn’t answer our texts or emails. Finally Clawd showed us a picture he took of Clawdeen with his iCoffin. Her hair... it was... it was... not of this world. Clawd said she couldn’t fix it and had to “ctrl+alt+delete her new ‘do” with a pair of electric clippers. He said she was so depressed that she turned all her mirrors toward the wall and wasn’t even growling at Howleen for borrowing her clothes. I suggested we shave our heads too but then Frankie reminded me how fast Clawdeen’s hair grows and that we’d be bald a lot longer than she would so we came up with the idea of going to the Maul and buying Clawdeen a fierce fashionista scare package to cheer her up instead and that’s just what we did. Of course we bought some things for ourselves too = )

25♥October

I was supposed to fang out with the ghouls last night but I didn’t. I tried to explain what happened to Clawdeen but I couldn’t. She was annoyed with me cause I always tell her everything. She thinks I’m keeping a secret from her which I guess I sort of am but I’m not sure I want to talk to anybody about it yet. So I wrote this poem to describe what happened. I don’t know why it’s easier for me to express emotions in verse but sometimes it just is. I read it to Count Fabulous who usually leaves the room when I get too sappy but this time he flew down and gave me a little bat hug when I was finished. 

One fall autumn night I took a walk jaunt

to meet some friends at a familiar haunt

The sky above was very starry bright

and there seemed to me not a cloud in sight

So off I went without sans umbrella or coat

although what I probably needed was really a boat

Caust the clouds came rolled in with a dragon’s roar

and shortly thereafter it bagan to pour

Not a pleasant rain, good for plant and flower

but a driving, unfriendly, cold hard icy shower

Now I was halfway between home and there

my makeup was running ruined and so was my hair

With no shelter in sight or a way to get dry

I put my head face in my hands and started to cry

When out of the shower rain a voice broke through,

“Hey D it’s me Clawd, hey D is that you?”

As I blinked through the tears and rain I could see

Clawdeen’s brother Clawd, waving at me

Across four lanes of traffic bravely he dashed

with umbrella in hand to my side he flashed

He led helped me back to his car warm and dry

said not a word till I’d finished my cry

“Here’s a hot coffinccino whip cream no foam,

it’ll warm you right up while I drive you home.”

From the car he walked me up to my door

protecting me still from the storm’s downpour

As he turned to leave I placed a kiss on his cheek

then I ran inside before he could speak.

And while I watched his car disappear from sight

I felt something happen change for me that night

No longer did I see him as just my best friend’s brother

that night, to me, he became something other. 

The great thing about poetry is that it doesn’t have to be epic to express how you feel. Now I have to wonder, “Does he feel the same?”

#monster high #monster high diary #draculaura #wave 2

[ask-hanako-cast]

Mitsuba X Kou - Misunderstandings

Summary- Third Wonder Mitsuba still has a lot to learn after being alive for only a short time, so Kou tries to help by explaining things. However, Mitsuba also tries to learn things on his own which can lead to quite a few misunderstandings.

1825 Words, Rated T

Everything was brand new to Mitsuba. Well, not everything. He knew how to walk and run and how to point out someone’s insecurities from miles away like it was a skill infused with the very fabric of his being. He could hum, joke, and knew games like rock, paper, scissors, and tag. Still, even with the knowledge he had, it wasn’t enough to hush him up when curiosity got the better of him.

Kou didn’t know why Mitsuba seemed to like him. This Mitsuba wasn’t his, but the similarities made his heart hurt just like when Mitsuba turned to him a month ago and said, “Bold of you to assume I like you! Maybe it’s just… I feel like I should be here. Things feel better when I’m with you. It’s different from Tsukasa.” 

Tsukasa taught him lots, but Kou filled in blanks or corrected what Mitsuba assumed. Today was no different as Kou guided Mitsuba through the halls near the gym, pointing out trophies in the glass case. 

“This one is for a sport called soccer. You kick a ball around a field and try to score it in a goal. I used to play it, but I was always benched for kicking the ball in the wrong goal.” 

“I see.” Mitsuba was confused; if his looks were anything to go by, but he urged Kou to continue. 

“And this one,” Kou explained as he gestured to one of the last sports trophies, “is for tennis. Do you remember what that one is?” 

“Hitting a ball with a paddle?” 

“Close enough!” Kou grinned. He glanced around the display to decide which to quiz him on next, but when he turned back to his friend Mitsuba’s attention was already taken by something across the hall. He followed Mitsuba’s gaze as he approached the other display a bit of ways from the sports. “Oh, that’s awards for clubs! Sometimes they can win awards too, but mostly just ribbons and certificates for whatever.” 

Mitsuba hummed in thought, pressing a clawed hand to the glass as he examined the cabinets contents. Upon gazing over one in particular, Mitsuba’s eyes lit up and he jabbed a nail toward it. “I know what that one is!”

“You do?” Kou asked in surprise as he peeked over Mitsuba’s shoulder. 

Mitsuba slid a step to the side, his scarf ends twitching a silent warning to not come too close, lest he become nervous and they move on their own accord. He nodded and fiddled with his sleeves, a blush working on his lips. 

“Tsukasa showed me. They were practicing when he took me in there.” 

“You went to see the drama club practicing?” That sounded like the most normal thing Tsukasa ever showed him. 

“He was originally trying to get me to eat a centipede he found.” That makes more sense. “Then I ran by a room and saw them practicing and Tsukasa stopped. I didn’t know they had a club for that…” 

“They have a club for everything,” Kou replied, “did you like it?”

Mitsuba’s blush grew as he glanced away from the award. “Uh, I guess? I think it’s one of those things where… it’d be more fun to do yourself and not… watch it.” 

He never pegged Mitsuba to be interested in drama club, but his cuteness would be popular on stage. That is, if he were alive. 

Mitsuba let out an awkward chuckle though, in Kou’s opinion, there was nothing to be weird about. They’ve had longer silences. It had to mean Mitsuba was uncomfortable. Kou felt his heart squeeze as he looked at the supernatural. 

“Did you want to do drama club things with me?” Kou asked, tilting his head.

Mitsuba’s shoulders jumped and his scarf tails stood on end. “D-D-Do that-“ 

“I mean, I can’t say I’m any good, but with enough practice-“ 

“P-Practice?” Mitsuba screeched, face turning bright red. 

“With enough practice,” Kou repeated, “I can get better.” 

“You can’t be serious…” Mitsuba whispered, not meeting Kou’s eye as he began to mumble, “You are just trying to take advantage of me knowing that I am lost to this. You are probably going to make me do things against my will and-!”

“I wouldn’t do anything you are uncomfortable with,” Kou urged with a sigh. Was he afraid of stage fighting? Kou hadn’t even considered that when Mitsuba told him about seeing the drama club! He wasn’t going to roughhouse with Mitsuba when the mere thought of getting hit makes him cry out. “We will just try it out and see if you like it?” 

Kou briefly wondered if he could steer Mitsuba back to his camera through this interest, but everything took time. 

Mitsuba bit his lip and clicked his nails along one of the pendants on his scarf; a habit he did when he was assessing options, gambling the best deal. 

“T-... Tsukasa said they practice with everyone.” Mitsuba lowered his chin so he could stare at the floor. “I… don��t want either of us practicing with anyone else.” 

It might be a good thing Mitsuba isn’t alive to join the real drama club, Kou realised. Because that type of thinking wouldn’t be smiled upon. Either way, he nodded along obediently and gestured over to the library. “We can go find scripts now, if you want.” 

“Scripts?” Mitsuba squeaked, face going back to a cherry red as he watched Kou mime out the papers. He let out a laugh. It sounded uncomfortable, uncertain. “Do we… Do we really need them? I think that… for the first one… we can figure it out on our own?”

Kou was slowly getting the feeling he had no clue what Mitsuba was talking about. He prayed Tsukasa didn’t mess with his impressional brain too much and reached out, placing a hand on the supernatural’s shoulder. He leaned down a little, making Mitsuba’s wide pink eyes meet his. 

“Mitsuba, what do you find interesting about drama club?”

“Oh.” He didn’t seem prepared, but his fake confidence built up in seconds. “Well, I wouldn’t want to join, like I said, but I… k-kinda want to try what they were doing. Tsukasa said it’s something you do with someone who means a lot to you… and I don’t have that many people I’d want to do it with. J-Just you, I guess…” 

Kou’s brain was working overtime to find an answer as the flustered supernatural began to spew out random words. “B-Because, like you said, you have to be pretty bad at it, s-so if you say anything, I’ll tell Nene you drama club like a dog and don’t even taste like lemons!” 

“Lemons?” Had Mitsuba accidentally ran into a farmer’s market and decided he wanted to start a stand with Kou? That’s… a little hard to do, but Kou would figure something out. However, he was pretty sure Mitsuba would never want to try that. He’d probably have a heart attack the moment he got dirt under his nail beds or a fly in his hair. 

“Tsukasa said it tastes like lemons.” 

“You… want to cook with me?” 

Mitsuba looked irritated, blush dying away only slightly as he glared up at Kou. “No. I want to drama club with you. Now, stop making me repeat it. It’s embarrassing.” 

Kou took a deep breath and sighed. “I think we are having a language barrier- No, a Tsukasa-teaching-weird barrier right now. Can you show me what you mean so I can be sure it’s what I’m thinking?” 

“Y-You want me to do it?” Mitsuba shrieked. “That’s… If you are seriously that shy, I can do it. Uh, but can you… come closer?” 

Weren’t they already close enough? Kou stepped forward, until their chests were only a small space apart. Usually Mitsuba would be tense and nervous if anyone stood that close to him, despite his words saying the opposite. It wasn’t hard to tell how he truly felt with his scarf ends wriggling behind him. However, Mitsuba’s scarf wasn’t moving to protect him from his fears this time. It hung limp as Mitsuba looked up at him and brushed some of his bangs aside. 

“Tilt your head down.” Kou obeyed, tensing when he realised how close Mitsuba was. He could almost feel his breath on his lips. Kou was beginning to have a feeling that Mitsuba never saw a drama club practice to begin with, but he said nothing as Mitsuba glanced away. “Eyes closed.” 

Kou closed his eyes and was about to ask Mitsuba if his train of thought was on the right track when he felt something weird on his lips. It wasn’t a bad weird, but it wasn’t something he could explain. He dared to open his eyes only to see Mitsuba’s face way too close that he could figure out the origin of the foreign feeling on his lips. Mitsuba’s clawed hand came to rest near his neck, nails accidentally grazing the skin enough to send goosebumps down Kou’s back. 

Mitsuba slowly pulled away, pink eyes fluttering open. They were the same color as his cheeks. He looked like an angel this close. Kou bit his lip and leaned forward instead, but just as his lips brushed Mitsuba’s, he was pushed back. 

“I-I said to keep your eyes closed!” Mitsuba whispered, hitting him with his sleeve. His eyes grew glossy and Kou wasn’t sure if it was just a rouse or if he actually felt sad. Kou’s mind quickly supplied an answer to the question he’s been wondering. Mitsuba must have seen a stage kiss and wasn’t told that that wasn’t all a drama club did. Tsukasa must have glazed over so much information, it was a miracle this has been one of the only drastic 

Kou nodded his head dumbly. “Sorry, sorry!”

Mitsuba gave him a long glare, then pulled away. “It’s… fine. You weren’t, uh, as bad as you claimed to be.”

Kou scratched the back of his neck. “T-Thank you?”

“But there is one thing that was weird.” Kou felt his palms become sweaty. “You don’t taste like lemons like Tsukasa said.”

“He said I’d taste like lemons?”

“Well, no. He said drama clubs tasted like lemons,” Mitsuba stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “but you are sweeter, I think.”

“You were good too,” Kou said lamely, blushing as he glanced to the ground, “but that is actually called a ‘kiss’. I don’t think they taste like lemons unless someone has one or a candy beforehand, but you were right on the whole ‘it’s for people who are important to you’.” 

Mitsuba seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Then… Next time, just to test it, can we try lemon candies? I-I just want to see if ‘kisses’ can be lemony or if Tsukasa was fibbing again.”

Next time? Kou grinned and nodded like a bobble head, fast and sporadically. “Sure!”

“Without a script too?”

“Without a script.”

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #mitsuba sousuke #jshk mitsuba #jshk tsukasa #jshk kou #mitsukou #hanakokun #toliet bound hanako kun

[ptersparkers]

at the end of the day (chapter one)

summary: there are two gigantic mysteries in your life and one of them includes peter parker not seeming to like you. you can stand him not being your friend but being in the same friend group? that should be easy, right?

a/n: sO i have this idea for a story in my head and there will be some slow updates coming but i’m excited about this one and lets HOPE i finish it hA. also i don’t know if this is gonna be more than a few “chapters” so we’ll see when i do with part two and i’ll decide from there! 💖

warnings: some angst but it’s not too serious

editied by: @jinxes-and-hexes! (everyone say ‘thank you’ because we all know i make too many typos).

masterlist / taglist / series masterlist

Peter Parker did not like you.

The reason? You didn’t know. You joined Midtown Tech your sophomore year and became friends with Peter’s “group” during February of the second semester. It was now the start of your junior year and you still couldn’t figure out why Peter had always given you the cold shoulder.

At first, you rationalized that he wasn’t keen on meeting new people. You got that, really, because meeting people you don’t know can make for an awkward situation and make people anxious overall. But weeks flew by and even MJ warmed up to you but the ever so bubbly Peter Parker that Ned was always talking about was nowhere in sight.

He was never outwardly mean to you but it was the little things you noticed. Like when he would scoot further away from you in the cafeteria or not invite you to a small get together if he was the one planning, even when you were with him. It was when he avoided eye contact and asked MJ to switch seats with him so he wouldn’t have to sit next to you in the backseat of Betty’s car and it was when he ignored you whenever you talked about the high marks you got on your biochemistry final.

You think that those subtle gestures hurt more than him telling you he doesn’t like you.

You hadn’t really spoken to Peter, per se. In the beginning, you both were trying to make awkward small talk for the sake of making friends, but when you clicked with Ned, Peter gave up. You quit trying a little later and you were positive the rest of your friend group tried to act like nothing was out of the ordinary.

You were accustomed to people not telling you things, but you wish you weren’t. You learned from your mother that it was best not to pry if people didn’t want to tell you something. After all, you learned you should never ask about your father when she had threatened to pull you out of Midtown Tech if you asked her about him one more time.

So when Peter completely stopped talking to you unless necessary, you didn’t bother asking him why he didn’t like you.

Not that you weren’t intrigued by the reasoning behind it, if any at all, but you were in no place to ask him because you didn’t really know him and you had just met him that year. Talk about an awkward situation.

So you’d sit in the cafeteria and laugh at Ned’s Star Wars puns and peek over MJ’s shoulders when she’s reading or on her phone, and listen intently to Betty’s school gossip to distract yourself from looking at Peter. You felt so uncomfortable and awkward knowing one person in your friend group wasn’t making an effort to be your friend.

But you pulled through because you hadn’t managed to become close with other people like you had with this group and you weren’t about to let one bad seed ruin the bunch.

“I think I failed the Spanish quiz,” Ned said with a sigh.

“Oh, why’s that?” you asked.

“I tried to remember everything I studied but nothing worked. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” he said, groaning.

“I’m sure Anna wouldn’t mind tutoring you,” you suggested. “She helped MJ get pretty good test results.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Ned said dramatically as he gripped the straps of his backpack. “I gotta run to a doctor’s appointment. See you tomorrow?”

“See ya!” you said with a two-finger salute. You turned around in the opposite direction to walk home when you collided with Peter.

“O-Oh,” you said, regaining your balance. “Sorry Peter.”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly before walking away and ducking his head, not making eye contact with you once. You sighed, not expecting anything less but still disappointed in the outcome.

“He’s being weird,” MJ commented. “I think this is one mystery I can’t solve.”

“Great,” you said, exasperated. “You’re the most perceptive person I know and if you can’t figure out what’s wrong with Peter, no one can.”

“He’s been a bit strange, lately,” said MJ. “Disconnected, for sure. He leaves us a lot and backs out of plans last minute. Peter didn’t use to do that but after getting that Stark Internship, he’s been at Stark’s beck and will.”

“Oh, right, the internship,” you said. “Well, I wouldn’t know.”

“None of us would. He doesn’t talk about it and when he does, his job description seems to be all over the place. I mean, who fetches coffee and works with technology?” she asked rhetorically. “It’s whatever. Don’t take it too personally, okay?”

“It’s hard when he literally ignores me all the time,” you said, falling into step with MJ.

“The kid’s weird.”

“You guys are the same age.”

“I’m wise. Like, in my seventies, wise.”

“Touché,” you said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, MJ.”

***

You sat against the bed frame with a pillow propped up against your back, an iced coffee by your nightstand, and your computer on your lap. The bottom was warm after long use but you paid no attention as your eyes scanned the monitor. A digital copy of your birth certificate sat right in front of you with your mother’s name, your name, but no father listed. The blank space filled your thoughts with doubt and curiosity.

You didn’t know where to look. Being that your mother despised talking about your father, she gave you a copy of your birth certificate to prove that your father was a no-good person and she meant for that to be a reminder that you didn’t need to worry about him. But it fueled your interest even more.

You weren’t sure where you got your love for computer science from, but you were able to type on a keyboard at an early age. Add in a few extra classes during summertime at a community college, and you were good to go. Now, you were skilled enough to locate backdoor entrances to mainframes and encrypted hotlines in order to access data that wasn’t being shown to the public. Was it legal? Perhaps, perhaps not. It was still a gray area but you didn’t venture very far when you had accidentally gained access to Midtown’s security system and found out you could change student information from your computer at home, much like Ferris Bueller did when he lowered the amount of days he had been absent.

With this knowledge, you tried everything you could. Whether that be trying a family lineage website or hacking into your hospital medical records (to no avail), everything seemed to turn up empty and lead you down a path that was always cold.

You had considered asking the Avengers for help, but you didn’t know if they made house calls or responded to teenage girls who wanted to know who their father was. You didn’t think your conundrum, compared to what they dealt with, was that important.

So, you sighed and closed your laptop in frustration with yet another afternoon of relentless curiosity that led you nowhere. You sipped on your iced coffee from the metal straw before hearing a slurping sound and put the cup on the stand, telling yourself you’d take care of it later and decided to take a short nap, dreaming of two things: finding the identity of your father and finding out why Peter didn’t like you.

Across town, Peter and Ned were casually hanging out in Peter’s bedroom when Ned asked a question.

“How come you don’t like Y/N?”

Peter looked at him with surprise.

“W-What do you mean? Of course I like Y/N. She hangs out with us all the time.”

“Yeah, but you never talk to her,” he pointed out. “And when she tries to talk to you, you try to cut the conversation short or try to avoid her altogether. That’s weird, man.”

“I do not,” Peter said. Ned gave him a look. “I just don’t think we click.”

“How would you know that? You’ve never spent time with her alone and you don’t talk to her.”

“Call it a gut feeling,” he muttered.

“Peter, that’s really unfair to Y/N because you’re not giving her a chance to prove herself. You’re judging her without getting to know her.”

“Can we just drop it, Ned?” Peter pleaded. “You sound like MJ and I don’t need to be scolded today.”

Ned sighed, obviously torn between wanting to respect his best friend’s wishes, but also trying to put you in a good light because he genuinely cares for you. He was in the crossfire and in an awkward spot but he knew that he didn’t want to lose either of you any time soon.

“Maybe you should ask her to hang out.”

“Ned,” Peter said, more sternly this time.

“Okay, okay. No more Y/N talk, got it.”

There was an awkward minute of silence before Ned spoke up again.

“So, uh, how are things going with your Spider-Man gig?”

“Pretty good,” Peter said, his mood changing almost instantly. Ned was grateful that he was distracted with Spider-Man talk. “Mr. Stark’s upgrading my suit a little and he’s updating Karen, adding some defensive-combat skills. I don’t really know what that means but he said he’d show me this weekend.”

“Being an Avenger must be so cool.”

Peter became flustered. “I mean, it’s pretty cool.”

“Maybe I can meet Tony one day. What do you say?” Peter gave him a look. “One day,” he said nonchalantly. “Do you think Y/N likes the Avengers?”

“Ned,” Peter said sternly. “I don’t want to talk about Y/N right now, okay? If you really need to know, something about her rubs me the wrong way and until I can figure out why, it’s for the best.”

“Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Oh yeah,” said Peter, sarcastically. “Like she’s going to tell me. What if she tells me a lie?”

“You have a point,” he said. “Well, do I stop talking to her?”

Peter sighed. “Do what you want, man. All I’m saying is we can’t trust her.”

“Is this Peter or Spider-Man talking?”

“I don’t know,” Peter confessed. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I think you’re thinking way too deeply into this,” Ned began. “You’ve barely spoken to her and you’ve done nothing to figure out why you hate her so much.”

“I don’t hate her,” Peter replied.

“Well, it sure looks like it. I can see that she gets a little hurt when you don’t invite her to things and MJ and I have to cover for you and say we didn’t know you didn’t invite her.”

“What can I do, Ned?” Peter asked. “Everything in me is telling me not to trust her because she’s got some weird thing going on with her.”

“And you would know if you spent more time with her,” Ned suggested. “Look, I’m not asking you to become her best friend, but she’s been a part of our friend group since last semester and you’re giving her the cold shoulder.”

“It’s probably for a good reason.”

“No, you’re just being a dumb teenager, Peter.”

“So you don’t believe me?”

Ned shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what to believe. I’ve never doubted you and I’m not doubting you now, but you’re not giving Y/N the benefit of the doubt, and you’re making assumptions without even getting to know her. Even MJ likes her.”

“Okay, I guess you made a point. And yeah, if MJ liked her right off the bat then I guess that counts for something.” Ned smiled and held up his hand for a high-five.

“There you go! I’m sure Spider-Man will figure something out, but Peter Parker needs to be a good friend. She seems so defeated whenever you’re around because she knows you don’t like her.”

“I don’t not like her. I’m just…cautious.”

“You being cautious has never worked well for anyone,” Ned said, rolling his eyes. “But then again, neither has being reckless. Just stick in the gray area, okay? You can operate there.”

“Jesus, you even sound like Mr. Stark,” Peter said, rolling his eyes with a laugh.

“Wanna grab some sandwiches from Delmar’s? I’m kind of starving right now.”

“You read my mind.”

***

Taglist:

@kath94210 @sessi03 @olliekookie @edgyhargreeves @simonsbluee @meraki--me @sleep-i-ness @amourski @zaynjawy @captainlarsonn @katiemcrae @holyhellthatbook @madeismyname @bands-and-shietz @janndishstuff17 @janndishstuff17 @knightofreaders @rororo06 @unfortunateshelbyrt @princessizzy36 @psychicforest.

#peter parker #my writing #ateotd

[cagestark]

Could you please write about Tony being jealous after Peter spends too much time sciencing with Bruce?

Sorry if you didn’t want so much angst. Hope this is okay

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: alcoholism. Unhealthy behaviors all around. But it does have a hopeful ending I think. 5.7k

Peter is elbow deep in his paper on NASA’s Fermi Gamma-ray Space Telescope when he gets that tingle, like a finger being dragged up his spine. It sets all his hairs to standing, heart pounding. He is not alone. Keeping perfectly still, he holds his breath to better listen and scans what little of the kitchen he can see without moving his head. But the breaths—so quiet, he can barely hear them—are coming from behind him. The person is still, seated, unthreatening.

He relaxes, twisting on the stool at the island. “Hey, Nat. I didn’t hear you come in.”

She is the picture of poise, perched in the armchair across the room. Peter still isn’t quite used to seeing her like this. In private, she is very different from the woman he first met on the tarmac in Germany with the chic hair and tight, dark outfit. Not relaxed, per se, but maybe as relaxed as the assassin can be, dressed in loungewear, face clear of makeup, her growing hair plaited back. It must be a huge sign of trust for her to show this side of herself, but Peter has been told that he always looks for the best in people.

“Peter,” she greets coolly. Her legs cross, slowly, the dragging of nylon loud. He thinks she might be trying to seduce him. The Avengers already know that he is gay, but maybe old habits die hard. His internal character assessment almost causes him to miss what she says next: “Are you aware of what you’re doing?”

Peter blinks. He points at the paper scrawled with notes. “Actually. Not really. I’m working on this paper for my Physics class, see. But we’ve been discussing gamma-rays and there is something about electromagnetic—”

“I mean with Bruce and Tony,” Natalie says.

His face puckers into a comical expression of confusion, glancing around the kitchen like the two scientists might actually be there without him knowing. “Uh—nothing?”

She looks unimpressed. “You’ve been spending every day with Bruce in his lab or up on the roof.”

Does she think that something is like, going on with Peter and Dr. Banner?

“We’re looking for signs of gamma radiation in thunderclouds. There was a big study last month that found gamma-rays preface some lightning strikes—” Natasha’s flat, unmoved stare stops him before his rambling monologue can truly begin. He swallows, throat dry, feeling some sort of dread in his gut, though he doesn’t know why.

Why is she being so cold to him, right now? It’s reminiscent of the stress dreams he used to have after Tony first offered him the position with the Avengers, dreams where he moved into the tower only for everyone to ostracize him and ignore him, dreams where Tony and Steve would sit down with him and say, Sorry Pete, it isn’t working out, you don’t mesh well with us, and may we please have back your suit?

“What is it?” Peter asks, trying to be brave. “Have I—did I do something?”

Natasha sighs, lifting herself from the armchair gingerly like she is twice or thrice her real age. She crosses the room and he has to force himself not to move away. The tingle is back, and this time, that primal spider-instinct inside him feels threatened, like he is bug beneath an incoming shoe. A large black stiletto maybe, with the Black Widow insignia on the bottom like a target for where his tiny body ideally will be smushed.

But he overrides the instinct and swallows down the fear: this is Natasha. She wouldn’t hurt him.

She does box him in, though, coming into his space and bracketing him with her arms, palms flat on the marble countertop behind him. “Tony doesn’t like me, much, Peter. Surely even you have noticed that. I once broke his confidence in me, and now I work very hard to make that up to him. You could say that a part of my reparations involves looking out for him.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Peter says, polite but firm. “I like to look out for Mr. Stark too. Excuse me—could you give me some space?”

After another moment, she pulls away. “You’re too smart to play dumb. Stop hurting Tony.”

Then she is snatching an apple out of the fruit bowl and strolling out of the room, not even leaving the scent of perfume behind. Peter feels baffled enough by the conversation to wonder if maybe the entire thing hadn’t been a hallucination. There’s no feasible way that Peter could be hurting Mr. Stark—he’s barely seen the man all week, since Peter has been so busy being tutored Bruce for his physics class.

Still, it takes him a long ten minutes for his senses to stop feeling like he’s in danger, and by then, he has completely lost his train of thought for outlining his paper. Sighing, he closes the book.

-

“It’s just going over my head,” Peter admits. It’s the weekend, when any other college student would be out on the town. Not many college students have the option of hanging out with the Avengers though, so. You know. Peter isn’t totally lame. At this time on a Saturday evening, most of the core Avengers are occupying their floor in the Tower. Peter has his own room there, with sheets that are royal blue and soft as silk and a picture on the wall of Tony presenting him with his Stark Industries internship certificate. “Every other aspect of physics is cake to me. Chocolate cake, even.”

“That’s his favorite,” Clint supplies helpfully. He’s playing cards with Nat and Tony at the other end of the island. Natalie is the best bluffer, but Tony can count cards in his sleep, so the odds are pretty evenly stacked, he’d say.

“Yes, it’s my favorite—! But as soon as gamma-rays come in, it’s like my brain shorts out. I failed the quiz over these, and it’s throwing off my curve. If I don’t ace the paper, I’ll freak out.”

“Cheer up, kid,” Tony says. There is an amber glass at his elbow, even though it was whispered very quietly around the tower a few months ago that Mr. Stark was working on getting sober. Peter guesses that it isn’t going well. Now that he looks closely, the man doesn’t look well at all: thinner, grayer, sadder. His dress-shirt collar is rumpled. That’s so not Mr. Stark. His voice is a warm vibrato that Peter feels in his bones: “Take a break. We’ll deal you in. No one is good at everything.”

“What are you bad at?” Natasha asks, maybe flattering him, maybe teasing.

The smile Tony gives her shows too much teeth to be friendly, eyes hidden behind his tinted glasses that he is wearing more often than not these days. “I’m bad at plenty of things, Miss Rushman.”

“He’s right, Peter,” Bruce says. They’re at the other end of the island, both of their shoulders aching from hunching over Peter’s textbooks for the last hour and change. “This is pretty advanced stuff. Difficult enough for scientists who are in this field to grasp. You said that this isn’t the focus of your major? Then I wouldn’t stress over it.”

Peter is stressing though. MIT has been tougher than he thought it would be, and he still worries that his success in high school was just him being a big fish in a small pond. Suddenly the pond is bigger: a fucking ocean. He feels like algae on the waves, tossed to and fro compared to some of his classmates.

Glancing up, he catches Natasha’s eyes. She is watching him, face blank, but he can’t help but feel that there is a silent message in her eyes. Seeing her unfriendly disposition makes him remember the conversation they had the day before—the one where she threatened him, in vague terms. Against his will, his eyes flicker to Tony. The drink beside his chips is empty now. His elbow is propped on the table and his chin rests in it, one shaking thumb running over the edge of his cards. He looks lost in thought. Sad thought.

“Maybe you’re right,” Peter says slowly. He closes his book. “Go ahead and deal me in, Mr. Stark.”

And that makes Tony sit back in his seat in surprise, glasses slipping down his nose to show pleased though bloodshot eyes. He grins—not one of those shark-grins he gave Natasha, but a real one. A smile. It makes butterflies spread their wings in Peter’s gut. God, he’s had a crush on the man for, like, ever. But Mr. Stark is a crush so unobtainable that Peter’s never even had to stress over it. Never had to stress about the juvenile stuff like does he like me back or what can I do to make him notice me. He’s just able to melt in it, enjoy his attraction and idol-worship. It’s all very sexually frustrating and uncomplicated.

Tony pulls back the stool at his side and pats it invitingly. When Peter sits down, he can just barely smell the bourbon on the older man’s breath. Tony then asks: “Bruce, do you want in on this, too?”

There is a difference in the way the billionaire asked Bruce to play when compared to when he asked Peter, but Peter can’t put his finger on what it is. Something about the tone, the inflection... Under the countertop, Tony’s hand comes to rest on Peter’s knee for a moment, squeezing warmly. But then it doesn’t move, just rests there, burning a hole through Peter’s jeans. It prickles, but this is a different kind of danger, he thinks. He’s so busy trying to remember how to accomplish basic human functions like breathing and swallowing that he completely misses Bruce’s response—a kind no thanks. Then Tony’s thumb is moving, brushing the outside of Peter’s leg in a few slow, firm strokes, and Peter feels a dangerous stirring in his pants. The hand starts to slide up his leg—

Then the hand is gone. His blood is still rushing south, propelled by his hammering heart, but it’s like all his senses beside touch come rushing back the moment Tony removes his hand—Clint is dealing, cards whispering over marble as he passes them out, Natasha and Tony are bickering though Peter doesn’t yet have the brainpower to decipher what about. His knee is still burning hot, and it tingles for the rest of the night.

But he doesn’t think it’s his imagination that the entire evening is lighter, smiles and laughter flowing more freely, and when Mr. Stark gets up to get a drink, he comes back with water.

-

From then on, Peter’s image of Mr. Stark begins to change. Mostly thanks to the patchwork of knowledge Natasha feeds him in passing moments—when they encounter each other in the hall going different directions, when she is running on the treadmill beside him in the gym, when she passes behind him at the kitchen island for another apple, or, like today, an orange.

“He only drinks when he’s sad,” she says in his ear.

Peter starts to look for that as an indicator to Mr. Stark’s mood: times when it’s late at night and he walks in on Mr. Stark standing alone by the window looking at the view of the city, shaking hand clutching a drink that rattles when he sets it down to avoid Peter seeing it. Nights when Tony passes through the living area, glancing at the group gathered around (almost always Clint and Nat watching television, and Peter and Bruce talking through Peter’s homework), rejecting their offer for him to join with a quiet, just passing through, before grabbing a bottle from the kitchen and disappearing into the elevator. If Tony drinks when he’s sad, then he is often sad.

Peter thinks it’s safe to assume that when Tony isn’t drinking, he’s happy—or at least neutral. And taking into account the poker tournament from a few weeks before, Peter begins to notice that he himself seems to make Tony happy.

The knowledge weighs down his shoulders…but mostly, it makes him feel full of helium, light and bouncy, liable to lift off the ground and break through the atmosphere should he not hold on to the world around him. Peter makes Tony happy. For some reason.

“Everything he does is for other people,” she pants, trying to keep up with his enhanced abilities in the workout room. Peter himself is sweating from the break-neck pace he’s adopted on the treadmill, but he doesn’t need to focus to run, so instead his mind is far away.

Natasha is absolutely right. The topic is a sore spot. Peter knows that there were cutting words exchanged between Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers at the beginning of their relationship when the super soldier accused him of selfishness. It’s obvious how little they knew each other then, because even now he sees the fondness Steve has in his eyes for Tony, the gratefulness he exudes and goes out of his way to express to the billionaire. Tony funds the entire Avengers Initiative. He lets them live expense free in his home, feeds them, clothes them, patches them up. Scraping by with his Aunt for most of his life in a tiny apartment in Queens has made Peter keenly aware of all the things he has in his life now, solely thanks to Mr. Stark. And the older man doesn’t bat an eye at it.

And alright, Tony is a billionaire. Those expenses probably don’t scrape the surface of his wealth. Yet there are many other ways his altruism is expressed, ways only Tony Stark could express them. When Peter’s suit was malfunctioning in the wetter-than-usual New York springtime, Tony didn’t sleep for three days while working on it. Got to make sure you’re safe, kid, he’d muttered. Wouldn’t get a bit of sleep otherwise. Tony hadn’t even delivered it in person so that Peter could thank him, just left it neatly for him outside his bedroom door.

There were other things, of course. Providing Bruce his own lab and the resources to expand his research. Once he sat for a portrait at Steve’s insistence, and it was the stillest he’s ever seen the billionaire be. Mr. Stark makes it his personal responsibility to enrich the lives of those around him—he even seems to enjoy it—

“Did you hear me, Peter?” Natasha asks.

Peter stops the treadmill, jogging while it slowly decreases the pace. He’s been a thousand miles away, or several stories away, rather, down in the lab with Tony. “Sorry, I didn’t.”

“I said—what does he have for himself? What does he want for himself?”

Then she is gone, ponytail bouncing as she disappears towards the showers, a towel over her shoulder. Tony has everything. He has an inordinate amount of money at his disposal. What he could possibly want for?

The questions haunt Peter for the rest of the night, even as he spends the evening in Bruce’s lab while the man reads over his paper on the Fermi Telescope. Peter is anxiously squeezing a stress ball—carefully, though, because last time he truly squeezed one, it crumbled in his hand—when Tony appears in the doorway. He’s dressed in what Peter knows to be his lab-attire: comfortable, cheap t-shirt, jeans that are wearing through at the knees. The man’s hair is un-styled, free from gel, and it looks so soft—

“Hey, Pete,” Tony says. “Bruce.”

Bruce doesn’t even greet him, still reading Peter’s paper. He does lift a hand though.

“I brought the LVC permits for you, fresh off the government’s press.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Bruce says absently.

“What are you doing up here, Pete?” Tony asks, putting the papers on a nearby lab table. There’s something in the older man’s voice—something. But Peter’s never been good at stuff like that: deciphering looks, or tones, or subtextual clues. On instinct, he scans the man’s face, trying to determine his mood. It doesn’t look promising, the circles dark beneath his eyes, the frown lines deep. Even when he smiles, it looks tired and sad.

“Just having Bruce look over my paper, Mr. Stark.”

“When are you ever going to call me Tony, kid?”

Peter laughs a little. “Never, probably,” he jokes.

Tony doesn’t look like he thought the joke was funny. He gives a half-hearted wave goodbye and then disappears. Peter is at the perfect angle to watch him through the glass door. He stops outside the elevator and hits the button, leans his head forward to press his forehead to the doors, the picture of dejection. There is an uncomfortable knot growing in Peter’s stomach.

What could the man who has everything possibly want?

Bruce glances up ten minutes later after flipping to the last page, glasses a little askew. “Was that Tony I heard?”

-

The days afterwards, Natasha seems more disgusted with him than usual. Her occasional comments about Mr. Stark have stopped, and Peter laments the loss of help, because he feels no closer to understanding what she wants from him or what’s wrong with Mr. Stark.

Peter spends his nights laying in bed, restless, staring up at the ceiling to avoid listening to the distant movements of the Avengers around him in their own respective rooms—he didn’t need to know so much about Steve and Bucky’s after-hour activities, thanks very much—pouring over his interactions with Natasha.

What do you think you’re doing with Bruce and Tony? she had asked. And what was Peter doing? He’d been spending much more time with Bruce lately trying to grasp gamma-rays. Usually his time was spent equally divided between patrolling, school, homework, and spending time down in the lab with Tony. Of those things to take the backburner, it had been his time spent with his idol-cum-crush. Was the man feeling neglected?

Peter rolls out of bed. He’s tempted to put on his suit and go into stealth-mode, but instead, he tiptoes out of his room in his pajama bottoms and t-shirt, using all of his enhanced senses to make sure he doesn’t encounter any other Avenger on his way to Natasha’s room. When she opens the door, she looks like he’s the last person she ever wanted to see on the other side.

“It’s late,” she says. Peter slips through the crack between her and the door anyway, but he figures if she truly wanted to keep him out, she might have tried. You know. At all.  

Her rooms are as large as Peter’s, tastefully decorated. He notes that the only personal decorations in the room involve the Avengers: the group photograph taken of them and a few drawings of Steve’s, framed carefully.

“I’ve been thinking about all of the things you said, and I still don’t get it. I don’t know what’s going on—I see that there’s something wrong but I don’t know why and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Natasha sighs, already opening the door to usher him back out. “Everyone needs everything spelled out for them. It’s late, and I’m tired. Tony likes you. You like Tony. Quit choosing Bruce over him, or I’ll have to spend the next few weeks finding an incredible foreign benefactor willing to sponsor Bruce’s work only if he relocates overseas. That takes a lot of work Peter. A lot of work. Now get out, and fix this mess.”

He doesn’t even hear the real door shut in his face, because he’s too stunned by the metaphorical door that has been shut in his face. He gapes at the hardwood, eyes unseeing, all of his senses growing dim as he focuses his brainpower on the words that just spilled out of Natasha’s mouth.

Tony likes you. You like Tony. Quit choosing Bruce.

Peter lays awake the entire night. He can’t spot Natasha’s angle, can’t determine why she’d want to lie to him that way. Surely she has some sort of motive that Peter can’t see—he’s not a super-secret-spy type. Espionage and subtext aren’t his forte. She could probably run cryptic circles around him, and Tony once jokingly said that Natasha wouldn’t even sneeze unless she wanted someone to say bless you. So what is this? What is she doing to him? Hoping to embarrass him? Maybe she thinks that he’ll make some grand gesture, some romantic monologue to Tony and he’ll be so crushed at the subsequent rejection that he’ll leave the tower and stop Avenging altogether.

When sunlight is coming through the tinted windows of his room, he has not slept a wink, and has the throbbing headache to show it. His paper is due by 11:59 PM, and he still has a few revisions he needs to make. The other quizzes on gamma-rays and other electromagnetic radiations weren’t much better than the first, and all of his hopes for maintaining his perfect grade point average are riding on this one paper.

He dresses, only able to find mismatched socks, and takes the subway to make it to class on time. He’s there until early afternoon, and by the time he arrives back in the Tower, his stomach is growling painfully and he’s emotionally at the end of his rope. Why hadn’t he taken a gap year before starting school like Ned had? Maybe a year older, Peter would be more capable of handling all that is on his plate. As it is, he feels like a waiter balancing one-too-many glasses of water. Failure seems imminent.

As soon as he is in the tower, he cracks open his laptop and begins to finish the revisions Bruce advised him on—but then the word count is just under what the professor asked for, and now Peter is scrambling for extra content. His senses alert him that someone is coming, but he knows the length of the steps to be Tony.

“Hey Pete,” Tony mutters, looking like he just woke even though it is nearly three in the afternoon.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” says Peter. “How are you?”

“Has this coffee been here long?” Tony asks, pointing to the half-full pot. His hand is shaking.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I just got here.” Peter frowns to himself, fingers hovering over the keyboard even his brain feels like a train stuck on the same track. He has to say something to Mr. Stark. Has to. “Hey—um. I wanted to say. While you’re here—”

His mouth dries up as Tony turns to give him his full attention. The man is always so courteous, stopping whatever he’s doing to listen to what Peter has to say. It’d be impossible not to notice that the man has a problem with interrupting, talking over other people. But it’s never been that way with Peter. He stops. He listens with a kind of single-minded intensity that makes the younger man flushed. That much focus and attention feels like a laser beam directed at him, about to dissolve him into goo.

“—I wanted to say. That I hope we can hang out again soon.”

Tony leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. For a guy in his 40’s, he’s still fucking fit, biceps thick and strong, core toned. “I hope so too, kid. I’ve—missed you.”

Peter melts, heart aching in equal parts joy and sadness. “Maybe tonight? If you’re free. I could come down to the lab.”

Tony feigns like he’s thinking it over, knuckles rasping against his chin. “What about your—” he waves a vague hand at the laptop on the countertop. “I don’t want to come between you and school, Pete. I’m not very good at being a responsible role-model, but even I know that your education is important. That should be your focus.”

“Don’t worry about it. How does seven sound? I’ll finish this up, get it turned it, and then I’m all yours. I mean—we can—you know. Hang.”

The older man has that look he always gets when Peter’s mouth runs away from the rest of his consciousness: equal parts amusement and endearment and exasperated fondness. “Sounds good. You know where to find me.”

Peter does know. He does. The knowledge weighs on him for the next four hours that he spends staring at his laptop, writing a sentence just to destroy it, flipping frantically through the notes that Bruce gave him. Not meeting the word count means that he will automatically lose 10% of his grade, no matter how good the paper might be. But it’s like his brain is drawing a blank, all cylinders firing emptily.

By the time he is done, it ten PM. The hours ate him up like quicksand. His head aches with exhaustion, eyes burning from staring at the glow of the laptop, but he rushes into the elevator, eyes filling with tears. Surely Tony will understand why Peter is late. But it still makes him feel like shit.

“To the lab please, FRIDAY.”

The elevator moves without any verbal confirmation from the AI. By the time the doors open, he realizes he’s made a mistake. The lab is dark and quiet, lacking the usual soundtrack of classic rock hits. When he grasps the handle, it doesn’t turn. He’s too late. Mr. Stark was probably so angry that he went straight upstairs to the penthouse. If Peter were to follow, the door would probably be locked against him, refusing him entrance—

The door beneath him opens, automatic lock clicking open. Peter nearly falls through as it swings inward, his enhanced senses being his only saving grave. The lab is even more eerie from the inside, because it is all right and all wrong mixed together. The smell is comforting. The darkness is unsettling. He knows this place like the back of his hand when it is lit, but suddenly it is an entirely foreign place as he wanders through, carefully feeling his way, unsure why he hasn’t turned around and left yet.

Lights come up, blue dots like holographic breadcrumbs on the floor. FRIDAY. Where is she leading him, and why?

The lights circle on lab table, and when he comes close his eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness to see why. Mr. Stark is there, slumped over the lab table. Peter would say that he is asleep except for the stench of alcohol and the empty bottles beside him, faceless in the dark. Sad sentinels watching over their king.

“Oh Tony,” he says. His heart feels too heavy for his ribs to hold. He puts a hand on the man’s shoulder, gently trying to rouse him. It doesn’t work. Even when he whispers the man’s name in increasingly louder increments, the man doesn’t stir. Throat closed up tight in the fist of fear, he gently presses two fingers to just under the man’s jaw—

Tony jerks away from the lab table, striking out at Peter. His aim is off, so his knuckles barely glance against the younger man’s chest. The force of the failed punch tips over the chair and Tony nearly falls to the floor—would, if Peter weren’t there to catch him. Still he struggles against a foe he doesn’t recognize.

“Getaway—”

“Mr. Stark—it’s me, Peter.”

Mr. Stark blinks, eyes moonish in the dark. He squints. “Pete?” he asks, voice thick.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m so sorry that I’m late.” He guides the man back to the chair and searches for one of his own, finds a stool with wheels and rolls it over so they can sit side by side. Tony is swaying dangerously even just sitting.

“’s okay, Pete,” Tony says. “You were with Bruce.”

“What?” Peter cries. “No, I wasn’t. I was working on my paper, remember? Just like I told you in the kitchen? Why would I be with Bruce when I had—” he just barely catches himself before the words a date slip past his lips, “—when I had plans with you?”

The laugh the older man gives is mirthless, slumped over the table. With every shaking breath comes a cloud of acrid liquor. Peter has never understood how Tony could drink that stuff, alcohol with so much burn and no sweetness or sourness. “Why wouldn’ you be with Bruce, kid? I get it.”

“I don’t know what there is to get,” Peter says gently. He knows from his minimal experience with drunk people that drunkenness heightens emotion, and they can be as likely to lash out in anger as they are to burst into tears. Without his suit, Mr. Stark probably couldn’t hurt Peter even sober, but he doesn’t want the man to hurt himself.

“No, no, Bruce ‘s a great guy. He’s a great man. Better man th’n me.”

Peter gapes, even if Mr. Stark isn’t even looking or couldn’t even see him through the darkness. Because, what? Seriously? “Mr. Stark, you’re like the greatest man I know. I don’t—I don’t know anybody who I, I admire or look up to the way that I do you.” That answer is maybe a little too honest, but he can’t help it. This vulnerability, this sheer pain coming from the man who has held Peter’s heart between his palms since he was just a little boy. It’s a terrible thing to witness, and he’d do anything to change it.

“You’re a good kid,” says Tony. He reaches with a hand like he wants to pat Peter on the head but loses strength far before then.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Mr. Stark.”

Tony laughs again in that terrible depreciating way. He rests his forehead in his palm, staring down at the lab table. “Trust me, Pete. I know.”

“Why have you been so upset lately?” Peter asks smally. “I’ve been worried.”

“Didn’t mean to worry you, honey.” The name makes Peter glow, even if its slurred in that terrible, sad voice. “I guess ’ve been—going through some stuff.”

“Like what?”

The exhale he gives is long and loud in the quiet lab. “Adult stuff.”

“What, like, erectile dysfunction?”

The sound Tony makes is indignant. “No you little shit.” It’s said with unbearable tenderness and fondness though, until it almost feels like a caress instead of an insult. “Just, you know, your general everyday average feelings of inadequacy and unbearable loneliness.”

“You’re too hard on yourself Mr. Stark. I mean what I said. You’re the greatest man I know and I—I like you a whole lot. I know you’re having a tough time. But I’m here for you. And I know that you don’t think I’m strong enough, but you can lean on me. I can take it.”

When Tony stirs, lifting his head from his hands long enough to glance at Peter, his cheeks are wet, tracks of tears that just barely catch the light. He could almost mistake it as his mind playing tricks on him, but the man’s shoulders begin to tremble like his hands when he hasn’t had a drink, and Peter gets off of the stool so quickly that it goes rolling in the other direction.

Peter wraps his arms around Tony, pulling his head to his chest like a mother might hold a baby to her breast. There are no sounds, no sobs or whimpers, but the shaking lasts forever it seems. Then all at once the man melts, soft and languid. When he pulls away a hairsbreadth, Peter’s shirt is wet where his face was pressed.

He turns his head and leans in again, this time resting his temple on Peter’s abs. The younger man barely resists carding his fingers through Tony’s hair—just lets one hand gently rub at his back instead. When he speaks Peter can feel the movement on his stomach. “You’re too good f’r me, Pete. I’m so sorry I’m like this. Hated seeing you spend so much time with Bruce ‘cause I’m just a jealous old pervert. A fucking drunk, just like Howard—”

“Don’t say that.”

“’s true, kid.”

Peter swallows, struggling to gather courage. But if he can’t ask questions of Tony now when the man is drunk and possibly unlikely to remember them, when the man is too relaxed to lie, then when can he? “Why—why are you a pervert?”

All the breath seems to go out of Tony in a hot rush of air that Peter can feel through his shirt. “C’mon kid. You have to know.”

It does all make sense then: Tony’s recent behavior, Natasha’s cryptic comments.

What does he want for himself, she had asked.

Carefully—so, so, so carefully—Peter lets his hand drift up the back of Tony’s neck and slide into his hair, dark waves that are soft and free of product. It feels like silk under his fingertips, so fucking intimate. If this is all he gets of Tony, then he’s going to savor it, sear it into his memory. Blunt nails scratch gently at the man’s scalp and he purrs. He groans, the vibrations sinking through cotton and skin and muscle deep into Peter’s bones. “God, Pete,” he says. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Peter gasps. He’s hard, 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye, heart hammering, struggling to draw in breaths. “I won’t, Tony.”

“Never stop,” Tony groans softly. “You are the most important thing in my life, kid.”

And then the man is asleep, snoring breaths into Peter’s abs. It takes a while, listening to the gentle breathing, for Peter to calm down. “FRIDAY,” he croaks. “Unmute.”

“Thank you, Peter,” she says. “May I turn the lights on? I’m afraid boss might need some assistance getting to his room tonight. Would you be of service?”

“Yes. To all counts, FRIDAY. Thanks.”

“You are welcome.” A pause. “And thank you, Peter.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he mutters, hoisting the heavier man up. There’s no use putting just an arm over his shoulder—Tony is out cold. Instead, Peter scoops him up, grateful for his enhanced strength, and begins the trek to the elevator.

In the morning when Tony wakes, Peter will be there waiting. With some water and aspirin.

Because they need to talk.

#starker #tw: alcoholism #tw: alcohol

[onewfantaesy]

Training class AU - at the end they have a quiz and taemin still aces it :)

Oh there’s def a long ass exam at the end and taem still somehow Aces it

And the others are so annoyed

“How the hell did you get 100%?” Key snaps. Then he takes the little certificate taemin got and scoffs at it.

“How did you not?” Taemin asks. “It was open book.”

“It was not!”

“Well I dunno what test you were taking,” Taemin says in a haughty voice. “But mine was open book.”

“We all took the same test, taemin,” Onew says. “Who told you it was open book?”

“Our manager told me when he told he told me I had to take it,” Taemin says.

“Literally what the heck,” Minho scoffs. “How did you not get caught?”

“I’m telling you, it was open book,” Taemin snapped. “Don’t hate that I did better than you because I used my head.”

“You didn’t use your head,” Key says. “You cheated.”

“Cheated shmeated,” Taemin mocked. “The whole thing was dumb. We’re never even gonna use it again.”

“We have to get re-certified once a year, dumbass.”

“YOU’RE JOKING,” Taemin cried. “This is dumb, I don’t want it!”

“Tough shit,” Onew told him. “Everyone needs to do it, so you’re gonna do it.”

“BUT I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS IS!”

“Well go complain to someone else then,” Onew said.

“I will!”

#taemin #shinee #onew #key #minho #hello anon #training class au

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Draculaura

Volume one thousand five hundred and ninety-nine... and 7/8.

15♥September

I “broke up” with Jackson Jekyll today... not that we were ever really dating I mean officially, which would have been nice but every time he would ask me out he would totally pull the invisible boy act on me and not show up. Or call. The next day he was always very sweet and apologetic but he could never remember why he forgot our date. I guess the final nail in the coffin was when he didn’t meet me at this party and I totally felt like a one tombstone graveyard. I ended up dancing with this scary hot DJ named Holt Hyde who acted like he knew me although I’m pretty sure that we hadn’t met before. Jackson and I are still friends but sometimes that’s just how the tombstone crumbles.

25♥September

Went to the beach with Frankie, Clawdeen and Clawd to watch Lagoona surf. It was a beautiful day, which meant I had to break out the sunscreen although the stuff I have to use is more like sunwall. It’s so thick it’s like being coated in honey and it’s like a sand magnet so I pretty much have to stay on a blanket the whole time or I end up looking like a sand sculpture. Oh well, it’s worth the annoyance to get to spend the day at the beach.

30♥September

I stayed up late reading a new novel about a forbidden romance between a werewolf girl and a vampire boy... like that would ever happen... but it’s so sweet and tragic I couldn’t put it down. Of course I slept through my alarm and was almost late for school, which meant my makeup was a mess cause I couldn’t take my time putting it on. Luckily, Ghoulia saw me before anyone else did and she helped me straighten it out so I didn’t walk into my first class looking like an undead clown... not that there’s anything wrong with that.

1♥October

I took one of those quizzes to see what kind of creature I am - I think all the teen monster mags have them now - which seems kind of strange since like I already know. Anyway, the quiz had questions ike: What is your favorite haunt? What is your favorite food? Would you rather be dead or undead? Do you run, shamble, fly or ooze? So after I answered all the questions I turned to the back to read: Congratulations! You are a Woodland Nymph! You are kind, gentle and love sunshine and nature. You probably make your home in a tree where you enjoy the company of many woodland animals that you would never scare or eat. I wonder if I should share this with father? LOL... maybe not = )

7♥October

Clawd and Spectra had a monster argument today and it created such a fuss that both of them got called into Headmistress Bloodgood’s office. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Clawd so angry or Spectra so self-righteous but neither of them would talk about it when they came out of HHB’s office - not even to me! Clawdeen thinks it has something to do with Cleo and Clawd but I totally don’t understand how she made that connection. Now Clawdeen is mad at Cleo. Again. This is really sad and since it seemed like they were starting to actually tolerate each other.  

12♥October

I know a lot of monsters are not excited about having to write an essay on our monster heritage but I think it’s creeperifically cool! First of all, I’m writing a screenplay about my un-life and I think this will really help the third act and secondly because it gives me the opportunity to set the record straight about a couple of things. Beginning with the fact that my father is much older than any monster realizes. I mean he was already a vampire back when togas were first considered fashionable... sooo glad father doesn’t wear one anymore. Then there was that whole identity theft calamity that happened when we rented our castle in Transylvania to a total con-monster who went around pretending to be father. Now I have to carry a copy of my death certificate to prove that I really am as old as I say I am cause some monsters think I must be related to that loser. Unfortunately for the imposter his bats came home to roost and not in a good way either. The rest of my story, like how father took in me and my mother when no one else would and why I’m a vegan vampire I’m going to save for the screenplay which I would like to film in pink and white. How scary cool would that be?

16♥October

In the span on 3 days Clawdeen missed a test in Mad Science, a school dance and a buy one get one shoe sale at the Maul. Frankie and I knew something had to be wrong but Clawdeen wouldn’t answer our texts or emails. Finally Clawd showed us a picture he took of Clawdeen with his iCoffin. Her hair... it was... it was... not of this world. Clawd said she couldn’t fix it and had to “ctrl+alt+delete her new ‘do” with a pair of electric clippers. He said she was so depressed that she turned all her mirrors toward the wall and wasn’t even growling at Howleen for borrowing her clothes. I suggested we shave our heads too but then Frankie reminded me how fast Clawdeen’s hair grows and that we’d be bald a lot longer than she would so we came up with the idea of going to the Maul and buying Clawdeen a fierce fashionista scare package to cheer her up instead and that’s just what we did. Of course we bought some things for ourselves too = )

25♥October

I was supposed to fang out with the ghouls last night but I didn’t. I tried to explain what happened to Clawdeen but I couldn’t. She was annoyed with me cause I always tell her everything. She thinks I’m keeping a secret from her which I guess I sort of am but I’m not sure I want to talk to anybody about it yet. So I wrote this poem to describe what happened. I don’t know why it’s easier for me to express emotions in verse but sometimes it just is. I read it to Count Fabulous who usually leaves the room when I get too sappy but this time he flew down and gave me a little bat hug when I was finished.

One fall autumn night I took a walk jaunt

to meet some friends at a familiar haunt

The sky above was very starry bright

and there seemed to me not a cloud in sight

So off I went without sans umbrella or coat

although what I probably needed was really a boat

Caust the clouds came rolled in with a dragon’s roar

and shortly thereafter it bagan to pour

Not a pleasant rain, good for plant and flower

but a driving, unfriendly, cold hard icy shower

Now I was halfway between home and there

my makeup was running ruined and so was my hair

With no shelter in sight or a way to get dry

I put my head face in my hands and started to cry

When out of the shower rain a voice broke through,

“Hey D it’s me Clawd, hey D is that you?”

As I blinked through the tears and rain I could see

Clawdeen’s brother Clawd, waving at me

Across four lanes of traffic bravely he dashed

with umbrella in hand to my side he flashed

He led helped me back to his car warm and dry

said not a word till I’d finished my cry

“Here’s a hot coffinccino whip cream no foam,

it’ll warm you right up while I drive you home.”

From the car he walked me up to my door

protecting me still from the storm’s downpour

As he turned to leave I placed a kiss on his cheek

then I ran inside before he could speak.

And while I watched his car disappear from sight

I felt something happen change for me that night

No longer did I see him as just my best friend’s brother

that night, to me, he became something other.

The great thing about poetry is that it doesn’t have to be epic to express how you feel. Now I have to wonder, “Does he feel the same?”

#monster high #monster high diary #wave 2 #text post #draculaura

[ozma914]

Fire Prevention: A Light Look at a Serious Subject

This article first appeared in the Albion New Era during 2009’s Fire Prevention Week.

Fire Prevention Week is here, a time in which we try to – wait for it – prevent fires. Of course, Fire Prevention Week should go on year round, but if it did we’d have to change the name. So, to give you something you can take with you all year, here’s a quick quiz to see if you know … oh, just relax, nobody’s grading you.

1. Fire Prevention Week was begun after a huge fire burned: a. The City of Chicago. b. The entire town of Peshtigo, Wisconsin. c. A huge swath of Wisconsin and an even larger area of Michigan, all the way from one Great Lake to another. d. Donald Trump’s hair. The answer: All of the above. The most devastating forest fires in American history roared through Northeast Wisconsin and lower Michigan on October 8, 1871, leveling at least 16 communities, killing 1,152 people, and blackening 1.2 million acres of land – those are the conservative estimates. The disaster didn’t make much impact on the national news because of that little dust-up going on in Chicago at the same time. I was just kidding about the Trump hair.. 2. President Woodrow Wilson issued the first National Fire Prevention Day proclamation in: a. 1492. b. 1920. c. 1980 d. OMG! Nobody told me I’d have to memorize dates! The answer: d. Meanwhile, since the early 20’s Fire Prevention Week has come during the same week as the anniversary of the Chicago and Peshtigo fires. 3. On the spot where the Great Chicago Fire began now stands: a. The Chicago Fire Department Fire Academy b. A shrine to Oprah. c. Barack Obama’s birth certificate. d. The burial spot of Donald Trump’s hair. The answer: a. Can you sense the irony? 4. Okay, here’s an easy true of false question: The Great Chicago Fire first burned down the O’Leary home. The answer: False. Although the fire started in the O’Leary barn, a lucky breeze spared their house. However, rumors that Mrs. O’Leary’s firebug cow kicked over a lamp made them a pariah at the Homeowner’s Association meetings for the next 130 years. Later research revealed there’s no proof the O’Leary’s – or their cow – had anything to do with the fire’s origin. In fact, there’s some speculation that a fiery meteorite broke apart as it fell to Earth, explaining how several fires over three states all started at once.

(Experts now believe meteorites would not have started the fires, so we're back to blaming humans.)

5. Most fires are started by: a. Mice with matches. b. Men, women, and children. c. Zeus. d. A small, square animal called the Woozy that shoots sparks from its eyes. The answer: b. Zeus is a myth, people – and the mouse was acquitted. Bonus points if you can tell me where I got that Woozy thing from. Cooking, electrical problems, smoking, and children playing with fire-starting materials are the main causes of fires. Kids with matches or lighters cause hundreds of deaths every year, and that ain’t funny. 6. If a fire sets off a sprinkler system: a. All the sprinkler heads go off, allowing our hero to escape in the confusion. b. All the sprinkler heads go off, allowing the villain to escape in the confusion. c. All the sprinkler heads go off, allowing the hero to electrocute the villain. d. Only the sprinkler heads directly above the fire go off, saving untold lives and property every year. The answer: d. You might want to consider getting a guard dog, because sprinklers are designed to control fires while doing only minimal water damage. 7. Your smoke detector batteries should be changed: a. So you have fresh ones available for the TV remote. b. Every spring and fall, when the clocks change. c. Because otherwise they could develop serious diaper rash. d. Because their behavior is just unacceptable. The answer: b, no matter what time zone you’re in. 8. E.D.I.T.H. is important because: a. She’s the only woman James T. Kirk ever really loved. b. I said so. c. Exit Drills In The Home help families escape from home fires. d. How would Archie get along without her? The answer: c (and b. Come to think of it, all of the above). Smoke and toxic gases from a fire can fill a home within minutes, so practicing how to safely escape from a fire, and meet up in a safe spot afterward, saves lives. Firefighters are great, if I do say so myself, but most fire victims are dead from smoke inhalation before fire trucks can reach the scene. 9. Firefighters die: a. Because that gray is unacceptable. b. hard. c. in the wool. d. At the rate of almost a hundred every year. The answer – is pretty obvious, and not very funny. Not only is the easiest fire to fight the one that never starts, but the least dangerous fire is the one that never starts. 10: Fire is: a. Fast, sometimes engulfing a home in just a few minutes. b. Dark, producing dense smoke and toxic gases. c. Hot, over 1,000 degrees in a typical structure fire and searing lungs even at a distance from the flames. d. Deadly, killing 2,900 people in 2008, injuring 14,960 others, and causing over twelve billion dollars in damage. The answer: All of the above, and that’s no joke. So the next time you see or hear something serious about fire prevention – pay attention. When the real test comes, it’s life or death.

Find all of our books at:

http://markrhunter.com/

https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

#fire #fires #firefighters #fire prevention week #fire prevention #Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights

[times-new-roman-font]

20 Useful Free Apps For High School (+Junior High & College)(Part 1)

I have tried every single app listed here, for at least a short time. Some of which I use on a regular basis, while others I just tried because I wanted to have twenty different apps on this list, or because there are five choices that do the exact same thing so I only use my favorite. Anyways here we go towards the list of 20, and if any of you are interested in singular reviews on any of these apps, just ask, because I have nothing but time and would be happy to help. Also tell me what you want next. I mean it could be the part two (as one would be easy to make with the amount of apps there are, I've not even really touched the tip of the iceburg), or another certain type of post, whether it be studying tips, a website version of this, or a recommended list of classics to read.

Homework/Studying Apps:

1. Quizlet - A studying app/website with flashcards, games, quizzes, and tests. Useful for learning languages, vocab, and terms, but also has other features such as diagrams. It's one of the mobile studying apps of it's type, though it doesn't have all the features the actual website provide.

2. Cram.com Flashcards - Another studying app like Quizlet, though unlike the mobile version of quizlet it has more games than just match, and just different features and set up.

3. Kahoot - A quiz app focused on the younger audience, as it's played like a game more than studying. You have options between playing live games with a host, a challenge between multiple players, or a single player practice.

4. Khan Academy - A learning app that lets you learn anything it offers for free of charge, there are math courses that range from early math to AP Calculus to Linear Algebra, along with Science, Economics, Arts and Humanities, Test Prep, and more.

5. Photomath - A "camera calculator" that brags to be the smartest one on the market, you can take photos of your math equations or type them in and you will receive the answer and step-by-step instructions on how to get that answer.

6. Duolingo - Probably the best app for learning a language die there being so many choices including English, French, German, Italian, Romanian, Greek, Polish, Swahili, and more. You can learn as many of these languages as you want at once, and there are multiple choices for native languages, so you can learn French even if you're just say fluent in Spanish. There are also groups that you can join in-app.

Planner/Checklist Apps:

7. School Planner - There are multiple on the market, though the one being mentioned is by Andrea Dal Cin. It has tabs for a calendar, an agenda, a timetable, grades, subjects, teachers, attendance, and recordings. That and a complete overview for the day and week.

8. School - This exact application is by Flaring App, and it offers tabs for schedules, homework, handbook (It's actually formulas for math, physics, chemistry, and information about countries), time to end (which is a time table), books, people (sorted into teachers and friends contacts), trigonometry, and notes.

9. Egenda - Another planner/organization type app that has two main tabs, what's due and completed, and then customizable class tabs where you're assignments can be sorted by class.

10. Study Planner - As the name suggests this app is a planner and organization app. It includes side tabs for a dashboard, agenda, calendar, class schedule, study time, subjects, and teachers.

Communication Apps:

11. Remind - A school communication platform that allows you to talk to the class, a group, or an individual. Allows you to be in multiple class's and/or club's groups, it translates messages, and you are also able to share photos and flyers.

Learning/Courses Apps:

12. Coursera - An app filled with online courses in programming, math, music, languages, business, and more from some of the top universities. It seems to be the one with the most courses or at least out of the ones I've found. Ever course I've found so far has been free, though certification usually isn't.

13. Stepik - Another online course app, with free courses, though the amount of courses on this app are very limited with less than a dozen available mostly focusing on coding and English.

14. Edex - Another online course app, with courses offered by top universities, and like Coursera it mostly has free courses with paid certification. It has a good amount of high level STEM classes, business classes, law classes, and architect type classes. It also has high school courses such as introduction to algebra and introduction to geometry, which are both actually currently going on.

15. TubeStudy - Just another course app, although this one you learn through videos, most of which seem to be free. Videos cover a large variety of topics all the way from Chess to Geometry to Python to German.

Etc. Apps:

16. Libby - An app I recommend if you have a library card, as it links to your local libraries ebooks and audiobooks, letting you check them out and then leaving automatically when you time runs out.

17. All Formulas - An app that offers a list of math, Physics, and Chemistry formulas though the list is limited and certain formulas are missing such as the equation of a circle.

18. Math Formulas Pack - Another app that offers a list of math formulas, the set up is a little simpler than the appearance of all formulas, but unlike like it, it only has math formulas. It seems to have more math formulas than the other, though I haven't checked. Also like most realistic apps, it is missing formulas.

19. Career Guide - While not exactly a school app, it has it's relations definetely for those who are trying to see just how many jobs are out there. It's probably one of the best apps I've found out there when it comes to selection and information, though I've found, and had to use, websites that offer a lot more information. (Though I have to say certain aspects of the site are based around the careers in India, including the monetary aspect.)

20. Free books and audiobooks - An app that offers free books and audio books, most of the books that they offer are older but many great and well-known classics are there, including works by Jane Austin, Lewis Carroll, and Mark Twain.

#school apps #high school apps #apps #appstore #high school #school #high school help #photomath #quizlet #kahoot #khan academy #high school hacks #high school tips

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Why High-School Is Harder Than College

I am failing my math class. I have a D in AP Bio. I have a C in AP History. By some miricle i have an A in health, but that is probably because she doesn't have all of my grades in. Thank god i have a solid A in my English class. You may be assuming that i am just caving under the pressure of college level classes. However, if you have read the title then you can infer that i have done college level classes before, and that i found them comparatively easier. So what the hell is going on?

I went to college before i went to high-school. It was what was best for my education at the time. Then my family moved and my circumstances changed and we decided that it would be best for me to maybe actually go to high-school. By the time i graduate i could have my general studies certificate, the governor's seal, my flabotamy license, my cna, my associates in general studies, and a high-school honors diploma. If i make it through the semester. If. I am not saying this to brag. I am saying it to make a point. I can do a lot of shit. I got to where i am by doing as well as i did in college, but i literally have an F in math.  I have a few theories as to why. And, surprisingly, none of them are that i don't like math.

in college, they don't do "busy work." In my history class there were 4 tests total and a short (maybe a page) paper per chapter. In my AP history  class i write a paper each week, there is at least one quiz per week, and there are endless work sheets. Do you see the difference? If each teacher assumes students need more practice work, then students end up with a bunch of what is basically busy work and we can't get it all done. At least, we cant get it all done and have a balanced life.

In college, if there is something due in class B, and class A right before it is going well, generally professor A with let you finish the work for class B. But heaven forbid i try to finish my math work in English. No, no, no. That's not okay. On top of that, i had more time in college. I went to class [i had the same number of classes per day then that i have now] and i did the work and i somehow had more time then. I think it only seems like i had more time, and that is because of how my day is/was structured. My first class was an 8 A.M. lecture every semester. My last was always an elective. My classes ended at 4:30/4:45. In the middle of the day i had a large break. I went to the cafe for lunch, to spend time with some friends and wind down, then i went to the library for a study group each day. I usually got through 3/4 classes per day before lunch. I started out really strong and tapered out through out the day. Now i have four serious classes per day jammed together with maybe a forty five minute break for lunch. I go home and i don't have time to do study groups because there is just too much to do and i am still trying to process my day.

fun-fact about my high-school, each morning we spend 30-45 minutes each morning in a class named "pride time." where we do basically nothing. That's 30-45 minutes of my time each day wasted listening to school politics. take that time and slap it in after lunch. Give us control of that and let us go where we need. Give us the opportunity to form study groups when we have the time to actually go to them, or even just a little time to let our brains catch up to everything that has been thrown at us thus far into the day. Don't restrict the number of times we can go to the library. I am currently only allowed to go to the library twice a week. And we can't do anything on Fridays. and its stupid.

I don't skip classes for fun. I only miss if i have to. I have always functioned that way. My last semester at the college, i collapsed one day and ended up in the ER. Needless to say i missed about a week of school. When i got back i handed in my late work, picked up the one work sheet i didn't get, and got notes from a friend. I got caught up in one day. About a week ago, a cold had me home for one day. I am still getting caught up. Missing one day of my courses fucked me over in high-school. I was out for a week in college and got caught up in one day. that seems a little backward to me. I am pretty sure this has to do with the combination of the busy work and the structure of the day. I feel bad for a friend of mine who will be gone all five days next week for vacation.

I think part of the difference is in how the instructors view their classes. In my current English class, my teacher is super strict. She informed us that she is strict to prepare us for college. In English 102 my teacher showed up 3/4 of the way through class, apologized for being late, thanked us for staying, and told us that her husband would have been very upset if she had missed the sale, then she had decided to stop and get lunch. Then she gave us each a chicken nugget for showing up to class and staying. True story. College professors are the most chill people ever. My 4 credit intensive immersion french professor cancelled class one day because she just didn't feel like coming and she felt like we had done enough that week. They don't care. I have 6 health sheets due this week already and it is only Monday. I don't even want to think about my math worksheets.

A lot of the difference in instructor attitude is likely caused by the difference in maturity of the student body. In college, you can trust your students to still be there 3/4 of the way through class. In high-school at least half of the class is probably high by 1/16th of the way through a lecture. You cant trust teenagers. And it is not that one bad apple ruins the bunch. More like a bad bunch fucks over one or two good apples. Its sad but true. I am pretty sure the girl behind me popped four Oxy in math. not even kidding. I know three people who came in high/drunk/hungover today. I firmly believe that college students are more mature. And i played magic/D&D at lunch with them each day. I am used to being around people who have a legit interest in getting straight A's and staying sane at the same time. People who have to deal with the whole world. I helped them out a bit, but they also helped me a lot and i am very grateful to them for that. I need that sort of environment.

The biggest difference is me. I am tired more. i am sick of this shit. And sick. And dealing with insomnia. And dealing with teenager stuff. and i am just so ready to be done. I am trying to have a life (and sort of failing but succeeding too). And on top of that there is everything else and i am so done with all of it. I don't want to be here.

There are so many differences between high-school & college that it is hard to pin down one reason that high-school is harder. So much has changed and somehow, despite college classes being more intense, high-school is harder. I hate high-school and would do anything to avoid it. Case in point, I just wrote a 3.5 page essay to avoid my health homework.

Decided to write a paper during lunch. Its kinda satirical but also not so like, yeah. Enjoy!

@data-sweet-potata @teaismyremedy

#essay #writeblr

[codingpanel]

Do you know these questions about music school?

While acknowledging that, let'azines get some of the Leading 15 goods you should consider any time buying a music school.

"Exactly how Very much Can it Value?"

We're also starting with #10 for the reason that out of all the telephone calls we, "The amount of?" is undoubtedly the actual #1 question people ask. Indeed, today'azines economy involves that we always be actually attentive of the fees although unfortunately, "The amount of?" must be on the list of final queries i hear you ask with regards to buying a music school.

Purchasing correct music instructor is actually NOT for instance choosing a could regarding pinto beans on the market store. There is just not any method for you to examine any full-time certified qualified instructor getting generations of experience on the 16-year-old little one upcoming door. Yes, in which little one can probably perform sufficiently to move his / her check-ups although in which doesn't testosterone imply the guy can TEACH.

On top of that, a professional instructor can be another instructor, vocation psychologist, guru, psychologist, in addition to specialist involving all kinds of other roles. You actually don'testosterone need end by yourself at the disposal of somebody who has hardly figured out his or her own life... no matter how low cost the value!

"The place Are usually Anyone Found?"

"The place do you think you're located" is actually the second most-asked question. Purportedly, people are searching for convenience. Sadly, there're having this ahead of some other things which must be regarded as priorities. kids music

Let's express ones next-door friend confirms to instruct your kids music with regard to $1 each training (not most likely, and a example). You actually can testosterone obtain less costly in addition to more convenient than in which! Nevertheless, right after one year you sad to say know that your youngster can testosterone perform anything at all, is totally discouraged and wishes to quit. Amazingly, many people BLAME THE CHILD finishing things such as, "Oh yea, your woman ought not to be very musical" or perhaps "Maybe your woman merely wasn'testosterone interested."

Such a unique tale this happens to be, in addition to ought to have already been, got you given ones child'azines survival on the very careful watch regarding a correct instructor! Alternatively, the kid is actually powered down regarding music for a lifetime, and you are therefore playing any bitter experience in addition to bare storage compartments to demonstrate in your investment.

OK, thus we've obtained the two BIGGIES outside the way. At this moment now you ask ,, "Just what SHOULD you look with regard to?"

Properly, that's a great question. I'm Arielle happy you enquired!

If you do taken any time to understand exactly what you long for to accomplish through your research regarding music, the actual MOST critical question you are able to ask is actually:

"Exactly how Might That Tutor Guide Everyone Attain My Objectives?"

Let'azines express you go to my own college that has a aim regarding establishing on your own since a fresh newbie in addition to you would like to complete ones quality ten requirements in one year; you have any $150 computer keyboard you purchased out of WalMart; and also you don'testosterone need to rehearse in excess of 3 or perhaps 4 days to weeks 7 days, in addition to only 20-30 units any day... well...

Indeed, this IS possible to scrape through using the minimum amount requirements in addition to have that incomprehensible piece of paper within a relatively short time regarding time. Although precisely what do you encourage by yourself in addition to the group in the event that a couple of weeks eventually right after passing ones quiz, you are unable to perform just one observe or even begin to understand an audio lesson by yourself?

When people ask my own learners, "Who seem to is the best instructor?", I need in which question due to a optimistic outlook as if to say, "Seriously, that you are flexible! You will need a very good teacher."

Around the above mentioned instance, when someone enquired in which quick-pass student to experience one thing anf the husband couldn'testosterone, though he or she 'passed' his / her quiz, what makes in which make the instructor seem?

For me personally, I will not be part of the actual quick-pass scheme. My greatest suggestions so that you can you and all of all my own learners is actually, "DON'T DO THIS!"

Just what is the BIG HURRY? Learning is actually an ongoing talent in addition to unless you understand you are going to cease to live shortly, you've obtained time frame! It will be greater to develop the favorable practice of performing items to the very best of ones ability. Doing this, you may be more profitable in everyday life as opposed to always looking for the simple and fast technique out.

Nevertheless, in the event that you will still demand speeding, I will relate you to folks that can love to get your cash though offering you one thing with regard to nothing. BUYER BEWARE! There are lots of folks that requires your cash in the event that you just side this so that you can them. In terms of ones education and learning, 'Affordable, Convenient in addition to Fast' will be not at all times the most effective things. Re-examine ones goals and find these within order. And inquire greater queries!

"Just what Will probably Often be Demanded regarding Everyone?"

This is the upcoming MOST critical question you should be asking.

Instructors can offer numerous unique requirements in addition to anticipations because there are students. All these vary from any "Whatever - Nearly anything Goes" kind of approach so that you can include those with crystal clear, properly planned out insurance plans made through a long time of experience in addition to designed to conserve the student-teacher-parent partnership pass more smoothly.

The more effective educational facilities in addition to course instructors can expect you to help to make some type of commitment. Many chaotic course instructors don'testosterone have enough to fight innovative learners whom only want to "Try it out out" for your thirty days or perhaps two. The achieved instructor is actually not planning to "TRY" so that you can coach you; they are focused on DOING IT, this means you really should include the actual approach in which you are going to DO IT, way too! Normally, commit ones hard-earned cash and time within one thing else.

As said before before, we a fair level of people wanting to know regarding piano instruction whom don'testosterone own any piano and get not any goal to getting one out of the actual around future. What'azines up start?

You want to capture piano instruction? Get a correct device!

PERIOD!

A superb instructor will expect a firm time frame responsibility within you and can definitely not accept too many changes in routine because you drift from a single hobby so that you can another. Make a decision with what for you to do; in that case DO IT! Ones instructor could and really should expect you to practice frequently at home and go to type prepared for your employed time frame every week.

Are you over-committed by using too many exercises? Don't Testosterone muddle increase teacher'azines existence through wreaking mayhem along with your schedule. Reconcile just for certain things in addition to accomplish these properly, as opposed to striving to become jack-of-all-trades in addition to master-of-none!

Right after teaching in addition to respecting ones teacher'azines suggestions is the one other area of expectation. A superb instructor knows out of a great deal of dedicated hard work and frequently annoying experience what is going to work in addition to exactly what won't. Possessing a dad or mom explain to the actual instructor, "Properly my own friend'azines daughter azines instructor doesn't testosterone help to make the woman make it happen," is actually an action regarding entire disrespect. That you are shelling out ones instructor to undertake a job, thus allow your ex DO THEIR JOB!

Remember to be specific in your teacher's insurance plans in addition to anticipations in addition to expect you'll respect these if you need to grow in addition to keep a powerful functioning relationship. Normally, hire a roofer else by using which team you can really feel more comfortable.

"Might I Fully grasp My Tutor?"

Through Greater toronto area, just as all kinds of other large urban centers globally, at this time there is an excellent variety regarding culture. Among the list of population are many definitely brilliant course instructors in addition to artists whom competent in the actual 'Old-World' style and get fantastic beliefs to share with the learners such as fortitude, tolerance in addition to self-discipline.

Sadly, English language just isn't the initially language, thus with regards to connection there exists a tremendous force on comprehension.

Tune in, studying almost any innovative talent is actually with enough contentration and never have to triumph over any language obstacle, too. Opt for a tutor whom you are able to comprehend in addition to whom knows you. Because ones instructor has all kinds of remarkable degrees in addition to certification, people mean very little for those who can'testosterone know what ones instructor says!

In addition to while we're talking about comprehending, language is actually not the only prohibit so that you can communication. Sometimes you will find variations in way of life, such as generation-gaps, play choices in addition to inclinations, etc. It is important to have somebody you are able to bond to.

To illustrate, either Mozart in addition to Mozart had been certainly 2 of the greatest play minds in which actually lived. Who seem to wouldn'testosterone need to analyze by using geniuses that adheres to that, right? Nevertheless, if it stumbled on manners, either males had been considered quite on the opposite end of the spectrum. Merely could hardly accept functioning online websites in addition to regarded the majority of the other male to get underneath themselves. That undoubtedly didn'testosterone lead to any feasible student- instructor relationship.

"Just what Type of Inspiration & Rewards Will probably My Tutor Utilize?"

The study of music might be fun. In reality, it must be enjoyment more often than not; usually there is truly not any good reason to stay by using it.

Obviously, there are always going to get those days any time truly isn'testosterone fun. Perfecting almost any talent can take some degree regarding dedication in addition to responsibility; that's referred to as "challenging work" in order to use it within basic English. Exactly what you've always wondered while you are buying music college is actually, "Bed not the culprit my own instructor planning to promote me standing on purchasing any time I recently don'testosterone sense that exercising?"

Are you prepared to try a 'Dictator'? By incorporating course instructors, it'azines THEIR WAY or even the highway. You might not like this approach. Then again, you may perfectly require that kind of discipline.

Nevertheless, I've got learners whom definitely rip apart on the blink of eye. The least tonal inflection regarding my own voice could possibly embark any feature regarding tears.

Get to know in addition to comprehend ones teacher’s identity style and find out when it fits your own property and especially ones child'azines temperament. This could certainly help to make a major difference inside world.

Merely when you obtain adequate strategies to these and also other identical queries really should i hear you ask:

The place do you think you're situated?

The amount of manages to do it price tag?

Do my teachers teach the instruments like,  piano lessons, violin lessons and guitar lessons?

Recall, it's about inquiring excellent questions. Dolphins, good luck ones music college shopping.

The earth can sound like a wild place sometimes...

OK, any LOT of that time!