#I’m like don’t make me hold a fucking groundhog

[deanmarywinchester]

sorry for new yorkposting. anyway please see this real actual the intercept interview with bill de blasio on the subject of him dropping a groundhog to its death.

[image description: a screenshot of an emailed interview. text reads: ‘On a lighter but more tragic note, do you have any regrets about dropping the groundhog in 2014?

Yeah. 100 percent. I'm like, "Don't make me hold a fucking groundhog." I mean, what the hell? Let me tell you exactly what happened.

Please.

I go there and it's seven in the morning, which means my motor skills are not at their best. I put on these gloves, and they're like, "Here's a groundhog," I'm like, "What the fuck?" I'm like, "Don't you have a little more coaching to go with this or whatever?" It was idiocy. Why would you want an elected official to hold a groundhog? I don't know anything about holding groundhogs. So the whole thing is just insane. There's an original sin here. Don't hand someone a groundhog, right?

That sounds like the name of a children's book.

Only trained groundhog holders. And do you squeeze it really tight? I mean, what do you do? So I'm like, talk about a lack of advance work.’ end image description]

[adiduck]

wait hold on i am fascinated with the groundhog day / time loop fic snippet that you posted. it's ice and maverick going on the uranium mission from tgm? would the fic be exploring their training? is ice volunteering them for the groundhog day thing without actually knowing if it works? it's such an good take on the story - really drawn to the idea of a story of maverick and ice exploring their own training for the mission while still having to train the daggers how to fly it (potentially without the same safety net in place??) i would love to hear more about what you're thinking because my brain is just whirring like a little machine trying to wrap my mind around it!

LOL okay so... close. The idea is that younger Ice and Mav--I’m gonna say 1989ish Ice and Mav, so post Top Gun, probably they’ve actually flown together as wingmen for a while--get pulled through MacGuffin Operation Groundhog to TGM era, where they’re going to be the single seaters on the uranium mission. They DO have to complete the training anyway, because they have never seen an F-18 before, and because even without that this is NOT EASY, and the decision of which of them will be team leader is still up in the air. And Maverick--the OLDER Maverick--is still teaching it. Yes, Ice did pull older Mav to teach and younger Mav to fly with himself on Mav’s wing, why do you ask? 🤣

So, the original single seater potentials are there because this means they can have one or two extras around in case something goes wrong--which means Bradley’s there. Which means Bradley has to interact with both older and younger Mav. Lots of potential fun there. Additionally, Maverick strikes me as the sort of person who would not get along with himself AT ALL, and I suspect that Ice would end up feeling a lot of pressure meeting his older self/putting a lot of pressure on his younger self to not fuck up (intentionally in older Ice’s case), but I ALSO suspect they’d be far kinder to the OTHER’S younger selves, if that makes sense. So there’s that tension there too.

Also you know. Ice and Mav are together in the future, but not in 1989, so there’s that LMFAO

IDK there’s... like, I’ve got IDEAS, but I don’t have anything... I don’t know how to explain. I don’t have a plot or theme! It’s just a bunch of “lol this’d be great/cool/so funny”???? hm

Anyway what do y’all think?

[kristsingto]

Reflection on last year, Be My Favorite, fandom thoughts, and more.

PT.1: Be My Favorite, time, isolation, and hope

My defining series of the year was Be My Favorite, without a doubt. Whereas I’d say Utsukushii Kare 2 + Eternal was what I was most excited for, as well as what resonated most with what I yearn for from a BL series, it wasn’t what defined my year (season 1 had defined last year for me already, and I don’t do repeats that often). 

The moment I finished watching the trailer for Be My Favorite, before its release in late June, I knew I would be enamored in it. 

I just got into Thailand’s BL scene this year. One of the first things I looked for once I realized I was in for the long haul of exploring this medium was a time travel series. With, preferably, a premise similar to Be My Favorite. Because one of my favorite types of stories is the narrative that plays with time, specifically the type that focuses on a character’s growth thanks to it.

Time travel is my favorite trope, but particularly it is the type that unravels and builds up one character’s journey. Historical/future explorations past a character’s lifetime has never appealed to me as much for that very reason. Time traveling to the distant past is interesting, but it isn’t what I love.

I’ve always wished I could time travel back to moments in my life. I remember hearing a story about myself at five-years old, upset I couldn’t press a button and go back to when I was three-years old, which seemed like the prime time of my life at the time. It’s a recurring thought. It’s mainly because I feel I’ve fucked up so early in life. Actually, my six-year old has solidified itself as the part of my life I’d like to go back to and undo most ardently. I won’t be delving into why the worst part of my life was in the first grade, or why I regret what I did then, as a small child, but it’d make sense if you knew.

It’s funny to me that I insist I could have done things better if I had been able to go back to any of the past moments in my life, when I keep creating more grievances, more missed opportunities, more wasted years, and more memories I’d like to forget. And yeah, I’m young. I’m only eighteen. But I still feel like it’s been too much. It’s stupid, sure. But it’s probably why playing with the concept of time itself is always in my head, leading me.

Sometimes, I want to press reset on existence itself. The entire world consists of loops, circular movements of past and present and future, of subconscious and conscious loops back towards what we already have done, and what will happen again. If so, then is it so wrong to wish we could return to the beginning of everything? It already happens on its own, after all. But I digress.

I’ve always loved time travel in how it is able to explore someone in its fullest. In what they have done, what they haven’t done, and what they could have done. 

As it’s a trope so deeply personal to me, I jive best with fiction that explores personal journeys utilizing time travel. I enjoyed Groundhog Day, as obvious and simple as it seems. I love the idea of time loops being used to show stagnation within highschool and a desperate need to not lose what you find most important, such as in Revue Starlight, and I love Be My Favorite in how it explores our protagonist, Kawi, as he goes back to redo his life and realize what he has to learn to be happy.

Less so than time travel as the premise, what also struck me about the series and solidified the feeling I’d be in love was how Kawi was established in the trailer, and further explored as within the pilot episode. 

Kawi is a loser. And you understand why, with his circumstances, but also, he is a loser. Kawi is a coward. Selfish. Insecure. Frustrated. Alone. And he wants things he does not allow himself to actually try to take hold of. Kawi wishes for love and friendship. But until he’s given a chance to do things again, he never goes for it. And he expects failure upfront.

I’ve always valued people above all else. I think it’s pretty normal for a lot of humans. Whether it’s my tumultuous connection with my mom, my many friendships, or all of the romantic idealizations, I’ve always yearned for people. And it’s not really to fill a hole, or find something. It’s to create. To ascend. Connection with others, to me, is what frames phases of my life, what frames my traits, my passions, my purpose. 

Which is why it’s so funny I tend to push people away. I’m a college student right now. I started almost two years ago, youngest in all my classes, and I’m going to be a junior this coming fall. I don’t consider anyone I’ve met an actual friend. I don’t give anyone the chance. I immediately judge people as not right, spurn offers to get to know people more because of some reason or another, and vacillate between feelings of superiority and inferiority. 

I am not a person in the way many of these people are. I am not someone who could fit in. There is no point in hope, because there is no one here who could like me, or that I could build a greater bond with. Those are the thoughts inside my head that compel me to turn down offers to hang out, to see everything as annoying rather than friendly, and it’s how I see almost everyone new that I speak to.

But, connection. Yes. I live online. I am myself online. I was homeschooled, barely went outside, and only spoke to other people online who I felt shared enough of the same experiences with alienation/loneliness I did. I yearn, I learn, and I live online. I am deeply attached to feeling like a real-life nomad who only “breathes” on the online sphere, no matter how people warn against it. And sometimes I wonder, while I’m still able to amend this in what people see as the “real” world, if I need to try to assert myself to people more. To find people who would get me. I’m not so stupid I think it wouldn’t happen. But I’m scared, and so I pre-judge every interaction and hide myself behind every wall I can.

Kawi opens the show at thirty, in a job he hates, with the same lack of friends. And a deep, paralyzing regret that he never lived the life he feels he should have. A world where he went on to succeed, to get the girl. A world where he was happy. And he ends the show with a loving partner, as a more well-rounded person, content with his occupation, with a group of friends who care about Kawi and have stuck around for a long time.

I don’t verbalize it enough, but part of why I love Be My Favorite so much is because it begins by scaring me and ends with soothing me with inspiration. Because the series starts by showing to me my worst nightmare as to how I could become, how I could feel, how a combination of a lot of the factors could lead to my life being (don’t get me started on Kawi’s field of study and job in the original timeline; I know there’s a good chance I’m gonna be broke in ten year) and it ends by showing me the best outcome. Joy, companionship, acceptance.

Living life to the fullest. Finding someone who loves you for yourself. Friendship that’s supportive and long-lasting. Kindness. Being content in accepting what happens.

The ending of Be My Favorite is kind of like a happy pill to me, in contrast to the angst of the series while it explored how everything could have gone wrong. And I adore it. I love believing in the messages of the series. In the ideas of the series. Of finding confidence, supporting the people around you, and figuring out what it is you need. And, oh.

Huh. I guess when it comes to it, what I connect to the most tends to be stories of hope. Hell, my favorite pieces of media tend to have themes like picking yourself up from failure and trying again, or friendship winning. And Be My Favorite spoke to me so strongly because it’s a story that really tells me how I can make my life something that is fulfilling, far from how I imagine it’ll go. 

Guess it all comes back to hope.

PT.2: Idolatry, fandom, and the question of why?

Fandom is a major aspect of my life, and has been for almost half of it. Whether it’s group chats on Amino, writing short fanfiction on Archive of Our Own, retweeting on twitter, or gushing on Discord, I’ve often filtered my life through the lens of obsessive fan culture.

This year, Thai BL has taken over my brain. I’m sure it’ll continue to do so next year. And I’m not new to BL (I’ve read many BL manga, for one) but I am still very new to this fandom and its contents, especially because it’s such a wide category of works to keep track of. And I’m enjoying where I’ve come so far.

I’m mostly, so far, a Pebaca fan. The shows that stuck to me most out of all of the shows I watched this year were Theory of Love and Be My Favorite. I love OffGun and the development they’ve gone through as a pair. Their stable partnership, the ways Off has changed “for” Gun, and all of the different faces they’ve had as a couple. I adore TayNew, with their bickering dynamic and long period of closeness. I love how hilarious they are as a partnership. And I love KristSingto, with their yin & yang dynamic. The way they parallel their first series so closely and how they’ve grown to be influenced by each other. 

But what has been the highlight of my year is becoming a megafan of Krist, probably. I love him so goddamn much. And it made me think about why people become fans of celebrities, or at least why I do.

As a side note, I feel as if the internet has become plagued with people using parasociality = bad as an overly simplistic thing. I’m far from an expert on it, but I do think the way many tend to talk about it is forgetting a lot of nuance. And I don’t want to get into this topic, exactly. I want to talk about why I enjoy being a fan of someone from a one-sided light, and how that helps me. Not about the ethics of fandom or what exactly it means to be a fan of someone (though these are interesting to speak about).

Maybe it’s pretty simple. I like watching charming people, and even if I don’t know them personally, I can grow endeared by them. I was definitely charmed by Krist’s personality: big, extroverted, sulky, caring, emotional, a little ridiculous, and passionate. I goddamn adore watching him on screen, obviously.

But at least for me, I feel as if a major part of how I choose what resonates with me is seeing people with friendships. Historically, the only real people I’ve ever become fans of have been a pair of YouTubers and people in idol groups. As if what I’m really being drawn to is actually when relationships between people are formed and sold. And I think that is the core of what the BL industry is doing. Selling the relationship between pairs. I feel as if a feeling of yearning/lacking within myself is in fact what being a fan of this industry is alleviating, at least for me.

Or at least, that’s how I feel now. I’m still easing into it.

PT.3: Okay, so what’s the point? And what about the new year?

2023 was a normal year. It was also endlessly fascinating for me. At the very least, I feel as if I found out/explored things that will continue to keep me intrigued. I’ve been reading a lot about literary theory and cultural examinations. Been thinking more in depth about people. About myself. 

And of course, I discovered something new that will most likely keep me in a chokehold for the next year as well. So, all in all, good, right? Well, not exactly. But I’m looking at the bright side. And yeah, I’m happy with the year when I think about all I’ve gained. 

I’m happy I’ve gotten into BL. Obviously. (And it’s also been making me think more about how being queer affects how I see things/what media I like, of course) So I guess the point of this was unpacking why certain media works for me, and why that is important for me.

And here, I just want to talk a bit about what I want for 2024. 

Obviously, I want more shows that connect to me on the level that Be My Favorite did, both through finding older shows and in watching the shows that come out during the rest of the year. And I’d like to get to know everyone else in this fandom as well. I guess what I’m saying is that this post is something I wrote to process what the last year had and to try to declare to myself what I want for the future.

So, yeah. If you read until here, thanks? For listening to me for so goddamn long, ahaha. Happy new years! Well. It's still New Years here. It probably isn't for most people, but it is for me! So!

[bishopknight0517]

I wish I could just drop dead and fade away

There’s always a way, but I have to pick a day

I’m always in such a pissed off mood

Never getting the right tune

I’m either sad, depressed, or recluse

Always wanting to get the noose

The only boost I feel is when I’m speeding

Only happy when I’m fucking dreaming

Each day seems like the movie Groundhog

Feeling closer to Bill Murray when he was

down dawg

Or Private Ryan when he was fighting his ass off

Praying everyday that I’m like Team Rocket and blast off

Into Heaven, or maybe Hell

Which one I’ll go to, well, you can probably tell

But that place can’t be any worse than this fuck shit

My mind is constantly telling me to end it

Yet it’s also telling me to take control

To stop being such a pussy little cunt mole

High and lows

Tsunami waves hitting Japan, rather than, a gentle flow

I feel like I’m going crazy

But maybe, that’s how society made me

An outcast, wanting to outlast, his not so proud past

The drugs and the alcohol leading to an intense car crash

Also making a mash, of my own digestive tract

A little fun fact, I’ve tried the act, of making a pact, with the devil while on a relapse

Three times in my life, just wanted to leave this realm by suicide

Justin singing “Bye, Bye, Bye”

While I try, try, try

This isn’t a lie, this was in real time

Even thought about putting a cigarette in my eye

Hoping I would go blind

So I could be stuck inside of my own world, inside of my mind

Now I have to deal with the consequences of contemplating

By constantly thinking of wanting to commit Kamikaze

I hate this, I want to make a wish, to leave this bitch

My anger boils hotter than lava

Going to therapy because I gotta

Because I don’t want to let down my mama

I just don’t see a the world giving me an inch

Wanting to pull the trigger a constant itch

Feeling like my mind is already lynched

Brain dead with a lotta thoughts

Thoughts that my papa caused

Thoughts that I don’t know that are false, my head filled with knots

Take a breath and pause

Anger making me want to throw everything away in a single toss

Already feeling like I’ve lost

Hate my fate

Can’t seem to catch a fucking break, not until I’m fucking baked

Out in the sun, my hand holding the gun, looks like the Devil won, it was a good run

[maplesyrizzup]

Year in Review

Thanks for the tag @ksbbb, @thiamsxbitch, & @wolfboy88 RULES: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022(not necessarily your most popular) Possession - (ON HOLD for health reasons). Lydia predicts that Liam is going to die. I’m very proud of this so far, I hope to get back to updating every month. “Theo let me in.” “no.” - Based on the prompt. Theo hears something from the kitchen and goes to check it out, finds Liam next to the stove with a pot: Liam what the fuck are you doing here? Liam: I’m making fucking mac and cheese. Theo: how the fuck did you get in here? I don’t think you’re an idiot. - Short Thiam Hurt/Comfort. White Picket Fence - random prompt: when the police came to announce you the death of your husband, you refused to believe it. “That’s impossible” , you said. “Unfortunately, it’s the truth miss” , answered the policemen. “It’s impossible” , you said again, “because he’s in the kitchen making dinner.” Best Birthday Ever - Fluffy Adrian Chase x reader.  Your top 4 current WIPS that you’re excited to release in the new year:  Pink sweater Theo: a holiday fic that involves Theo in a pink sweater.  I’ve cared for a long time: Liam wasn’t sure when he started to care, but he knew the first time he noticed it was when Liam asked Theo to stay.  Groundhog Day: Theo and Stiles get stuck in a Groundhogs Day situation and have to work together to find a way out. Thiam and Stydia.  Prank War: Stiles and Theo prank war fic. Probably going to be a gen fic. Your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing (or art) over the past year:  1. more detailed scenes, it’s subtle but I’m getting better at it 2. My dialogue, I’m pretty good at dialogue, I think it’s what I’m best at, and I’m still improving. 3. letting myself take breaks and coming back later to finish(?) Your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year:  1. to get even better at describing things. 2. to plan my fics more. The reason a lot of my fics don’t get finished is that I start them before I have them thoroughly planned out and your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year! from chapter 2 of Possession.   “Hey, don’t look at me like that. We might die, the odds are against us yes, BUT don’t you think after all that’s happened that we would have died already? So MAYBE luck is on our side.” Now he was rambling and at this point, Liam was more trying to convince himself than Alec. “THIS IS LUCK!? HOW IS THIS LUCKY? BECAUSE I DON'T FEEL VERY LUCKY RIGHT NOW LIAM!” Liam squawked. Very offended Alec was now shouting at Liam when he was just trying to help. “DON'T SHOUT AT ME!” Tagging: @mayhem24-7forever, @bvcksmunson, @nptnewr no pressure!

[widoglock]

Fic preview for WIP Wednesday! I’ve been slowly chipping away at a Groundhog Day scenario, where Caleb relives the two days on the road where Molly dies/the team raids the Sour Nest over and over.

“Is this all still based on a dream, though? Is this like...a thing with you guys?”

Beau reaches for her boots. “Did we already drink all the booze from the cart?”

Caleb says, “We need quiet. My trap rang and—”

That turns everyone’s heads. Beau, one boot caught halfway up her foot, shouts, “Your trap went off?”

“...And they have an elf. If she—”

“When the fuck did your trap go off?”

“About a minute ago.”

“Caleb, you can’t—”

“We only have a few moments—”

“You can’t just keep that shit to yourself, man!”

“If the elf hears us over the hill, there could be trouble,” Caleb rushes to finish.

“And oh, what, they’ll leave their cart to come check us out? Cool! More room for Nott to pick the locks.”

“I’m off the table, remember?” Nott snips. Molly flops onto his back, hands over his eyes. Keg is fumbling with a cigarette. “I don’t understand why you won’t drop this.”

Beau makes a clawed gesture, like she can fleece some patience out of the air. She rounds on Caleb: “Okay—yeah, how would you feel if Nott were in there? Would you still—”

“Yes.”

Beau reels. “Really? If one of us woke up and went, ‘Hey guys, hang on a sec, I’ve had this random prophetic vision—nope, never had one before, but trust me, this one feels—’”

“Beauregard—”

“—‘Feels good I guess. So now I’m gonna decide for—on behalf of the whole party to let Nott get tortured for another couple days, sorry.’ You really wanna tell me you wouldn’t shit a brick?”

“We do not have time for this conversation.”

“So you admit you’d shit a brick.”

“I would shit a brick quietly,” Caleb stresses.

“Like hell you would.” Beau kicks the back of Molly’s leg. “Back me up here.”

“Sorry, but you lost this argument a long time ago.” Molly’s tone has resumed its casual monotone, though his twitching tail betrays a nurtured animosity. He trades the hands over his face for a pillow. “We can’t afford to play chicken with these two. Not with our friends’ lives on the line.”

“I never said this was fair,” Caleb tries. “I will certainly not pretend it is kind. But if it is what I have to do to save you...then I will do it.”

Molly flips him off.

“I trust Caleb,” Nott informs the tent. “He knows magic.”

Keg settles on, “Did uh...did you just notice, or—?”

“No, I—oh for shit’s sake, I mean he knows magic. If this were a spell, he would know.”

“I am not so sure that I would.”

“Caleb!”

Caleb holds up a hand: “But I can tell you that if this is a spell, it is unlike any I have ever seen—ever heard of. Magic can alter memories. Spin a few...moments, from adjacent sinew. It should not be able to conjure whole days from nothing.”

“Yeah, and who would’ve cast a spell like that anyways?” Nott rallies. “With what power? From where? The last time we saw anyone was on the road yesterday afternoon. Do spells even last that long?”

“A few can last for—”

Nott perseveres: “And, and what, did someone really sneak up to our tent last night, and cast—they didn’t even take any of our fancy stuff—and cast the most convoluted, most top secret spell ever on one person—”

“Hello?”

Five heads turn to track the shadow outside their tent.

“Is everything all right in there?” Dwelma asks.

Caleb clears his throat, but no words come out. The only sound is the timid fizzle of Keg’s cigarette.

There’s an almost audible click as Molly’s mask slides into place. He pokes his head out through the tent flaps:

“Why, hello there!”

[lynzishell]

❤️💛 Atlas 💛❤️

So, here we are... again

Since the day Ash and I finally got together, all I’ve ever really wished for is the ability to go back and do it over. To undo all the pain that I caused. To get it right.

But I can’t.

This curse… it’s taken that wish and twisted it. It sent me back, sure, but with no memory of my life, so I can’t do anything different. Instead, I’m forced to relive them again and again; those moments in my life I regret the most.

But, if nothing changes, then nothing changes. I make the same decisions I always have and eventually wind up back here only to be cursed again, like some kind of fucked-up seven-year Groundhog Day.

The only way to break it is to get us out of the temple before sunrise. Before it starts all over again. I know this. And yet, I sit here paralyzed.

I have no idea how to get us out of here. And even if I manage it, I have no idea if Ash will be okay, if he’ll wake up. I may lose him forever. If I stay, even if we’re trapped in this infinite loop, at least we’re together. Isn’t that what Ash wanted? He said himself, “My only wish is to be with you forever.”

When we think of going back to change the past, we imagine going back knowing what we know now so that we can set things right. We want to do it differently in order to make things better for ourselves, or someone else.

I realize now that it never could’ve worked.

Imagine if I had gone back, with all the growth and knowledge I have today, remembering everything… It wouldn’t have been the same. I’m not sure if we’d have even ended up together. We couldn’t have connected in the same way, because I’m not the same person now that I was then.

The reasons he was drawn to me in the beginning wouldn’t be there. My quiet anxiety, always a little nervous and on edge. It made him curious about me, made me different from those he’d dated before me.

The way I looked at him when everything was new and uncertain. The way I’d react to his subtle (and not-so-subtle) flirtations and touches. He noticed it all, and he liked the effect he had on me. He liked surprising me, and he liked getting me to open up.

If I’d gone back as I am now, I would’ve run to him. My heavy pursuit of him would likely have made him back away from me.

Even if not, even if I could’ve played things out exactly as they had before… It wouldn’t be new for me. How could our first kiss have the same intensity and spark if I remembered the thousands I’d already experienced?

Going back as I am now would ruin everything that made the beginning of our relationship beautiful.

So, for that reason, I’m grateful this curse didn’t work that way. Afterall, it was meant to make me relive my regrets and mistakes by causing me to make them again and again.

And I will. I will always make the same mistakes and wrong turns because I still had so much learning and growing and healing to do.

I realize now that I was doing the best I could at the time.

Maybe I was a bit broken.

But being broken isn’t a permanent state. It’s not who we are. It’s just the parts of us that need attention, that need some compassion, the parts of us that need to heal.

Being with Ash showed me that. In some ways, it shined a light on all those broken pieces... and it hurt. I didn’t want to look at them. But we can’t put them back together if we don’t.

It was through his compassion and affection, and even the way he pushed me and showed me what was at stake, that made me want more for myself.

I’m not saying our relationship healed me. It didn’t. But it showed me that healing was possible. And it made me want to try.

It hasn’t been easy. It was a long road to get to where I am now. It’s amazing how much we hold on to the past, even the most painful parts. Sometimes it felt like I didn’t know who I was without the pain that I was carrying. As much as it hurt, it was also familiar. But I had to learn to let it go. I couldn’t stay stuck in the past if I wanted to have a future.

And that’s as true today as it was then. I need to let go of my regret. To have compassion for the person I was then. To appreciate the beauty that came from it all.

And know that everything happened exactly as it was supposed to, and that I am the person I am today because of it.

And I also know, as much as I want to selfishly convince myself otherwise, Ash would want me to keep moving forward, even if it meant letting him go too.

The past will keep me stuck here.

But the future will set me free.

Prev // Next

[stephnotsofunny75-blog]

Parenting!

Who said parenting was easy? well they fucking lied! lol! like I have a 10yo who think she knows everything. I have a 4 soon to be 5yo who's attitude is about to make me rethink life, and I have a spoiled 2yo who is the loudest thing in the world and screams to get what he wants. just when u think you are getting a break, nope! now don't get me wrong I love my kids and I will die for them but sometimes I just need a break. I'm a stay at home mom and people think that shit is all butterflies and rainbows. well I'm here to tell you its not. I wish I could go to work and interact with adult people that can hold a somewhat interesting conversation. being home for almost 4 years with kids is a major hit to my self esteem. in ways I feel like I lost myself. I fell like that's all I am is a mother and a fiancé. wake up, cook,clean, laundry, cook, clean, sleep, and repeat. that's all my days consist of and it feels like Groundhog Day every single day of every week of every month.

[youfoundbethany]

Preface: this is a lot and I’m sorry about that.

I don’t like “talking” when I’m mad, because I fear I will explode, I don’t like confrontation, and I fear saying something so bad that will change how you feel about me…

As things got closer between us… I grew to fear losing you… so it became more risky to bring volume to things when I was angry.

I’ll admit weaponizing silence against you more than once but not as often as you may believe.

Anyhow, when I do blow up, I get embarrassed. I do comprehend how talking about things can help, I really do, but I don’t like doing it out here for the big wide world to see, because I feel exposed and vulnerable. I would prefer to keep that part between and it makes me feel crazy and it makes me feel like I look crazy…

But, if this helps…? I’m happy to yield a bit.

I’m frustrated that… I initially sort of fell into this world, and I had to figure things out in the darkest of darks, and just when I did… everything changed around me and that always seems to be the case.

So the ground constantly feels like it’s moving and… that wears a person down to constantly not knowing what’s what, and I do sense a desire to stop moving the ground and settle it down especially since the return. It’s one of the reasons I’m opening up here.

The ground constantly changing shape by the way is also why it’s very difficult to believe you feel the way you do, because it always felt like just when I was figuring things out, things would switch and I was left wondering like… okay, has he changed his mind? So if you are trying to settle it down, thank you.

I don’t want to be some crazy intrusion in your world. I don’t. Sometimes I feel like I am so that makes me less hesitant to engage.

I’m frustrated and a bit angry that you are seemingly so dead set on doing this a specific way that’s never going to work out… mostly because of the above and because it never has before. I always have to figure things out and I always figure that shit out too late or… figure it out wrong.

My read is you’re afraid to fuck all of this up between us and so keeping it where it’s unknown feels safe, which feels a little like you don’t trust that I would give you so much understanding. It’s like you don’t believe in me on that front. In contrast, my feeling has always been that it’s not only better to know, but that things are likely to be awkward at first and go weird, but for me, the regret of never taking a chance to be together will and does hurt more. Like, do I think it’s going to go smoothly? With us? Have you met us? Fuck no. But I do think we have enough grace for each other and especially at this point enough honesty and humility to be able to say, “fuck it that wasn’t my best, give me a thousand Groundhog Day chances to get this right because I want to get it right so badly.”

As for why this doesn’t work the way you seemingly want it to, I’m not going to know your cues unless they’re more direct and I’m not going to spring myself on you, because I don’t think that’s fair and I still hold a small probability of fear I’m getting it wrong.

I don’t understand why you can’t yield to letting me have input on how I think this will work better using some of your ideas from the past and still giving you like 90% control, because I would.

I also don’t like bothering you when everything is so incredibly busy for you. And my timing always seems to particularly suck in that regard.

But the biggest thing we need is a more direct form of communication - similar to the one we had at the very first, but one where *I know* it’s you… and you still feel safe and protected. But being able to have that communication on a private footing where you feel protected is not only necessary, but important to me.

It’s what I want most… to help accomplish what we have failed spectacularly at… and I kind of think, to a certain degree you want this, you just don’t know how. Beyond that, it was actually a need before and if I’m being honest with you, it’s an absolute need now because honestly, it feels like you’re not even trying when I do need you to send me a signal anymore. Maybe we’re both failing there.

And I think that can be accomplished between now and my birthday.

I mean, I would like to do this by Valentine’s Day, because for me, there’s nothing I want more…

The scariest thing for me, is this realization that everything seems to be aligning for this to happen now. Like, so many signs that it’s finally on the tracks and I have been hurt so many times when I feel this way that… it scares me.

Other than that, my only other feeling might be that I wouldn’t put the blame on both of us. Maybe 75/25. Ultimately because of the dynamics, it has to be you to take the next step, which sucks when you’re particularly shy around the other person.

What that has left me feeling at times, is… like you expect me just to wait for you to take that next step while you’re out there having fun with others. That does hurt a lot.

My heart is here and I can’t move on from how I feel about you unless we try and fail or you find a true commitment with someone else. Like, I’ve been here and been committed to trying and working it out for so much longer than you realize.

My final note here is… this is a lot… and some of it may be entirely new to you. So I know there’s going to be some time to process some of this…

These are the things I don’t speak out loud, the things I push past. My love for you is so strong in a positive sense and the world between us so difficult that my understanding nature overlooks all of this most of the time.

So my biggest fears in releasing this are that this is too much… or you’ll feel it unfair or be hurt by it… or that asking for a better way to communicate won’t happen, because I feel like I’ve asked for that so many times and it never happens.

Please bear with the run on sentences. I didn’t write to edit it. It was my heart spilling out.

Ok. Deep breath and……… Posting…

[tiktaalic]

Oh here’s the mary prequel mini series I plotted out in my head last night. cut for length because im polite but it is not That long

Episode one: mary walks into a fairly empty diner. Sits down at the counter pretty close to some woman she’s never seen before. Orders coffee. Sits there twisting her ring till it comes. Lady she’s never seen before looks her way and says rough night? And mary laughs and says rough few nights. Lady puts down her newspaper and says you look like you need to talk about it. And mary blurts out that she’s thinking about leaving her husband because he’s so boring. Woman listens sympathetically then launches into a perfect speech about marriage being a commitment and she should stay with him and tell him she loves him. Mary is like. Yeah. Okay. Goes back home to try to rekindle things but when she starts trying to tell John how much she loves him she tells him she’s leaving. John says ok. Mary is super relieved. She goes upstairs to pack. Hears someone at the bedroom door while she’s facing her dresser to pack, turn around, it’s John. He shoots her, she dies.

MARY wakes up next to John as he gets ready for work. Brushes it off as a SUPER weird dream and more proof that she does in fact need to leave. After john’s gone she throws together a suitcase then hops in the impala (John carpools) and drives till she hits a gas station. She goes in to pay and the cashier feels weirdly familiar till she realizes it’s the lady from her dream. She is understandably more freaked out. The cashier tells her to have a nice trip home. Mary says she’s not going home. The cashier asks her if she wants to talk about. Mary doesn’t respond and goes to fill up the car and then drives a couple of miles  out of town before the car starts making this awful sound. She jumps out to look at it. Car is now smoking. She starts backing up and in a freak accident the car explodes and kills her.

Mary wakes up next to John as he’s getting ready for work.

Rest of the season: mary goes through a few more loops thinking they’re nightmares especially because she keeps seeing the same woman she’s never seen before and she keeps trying to talk to Mary. Eventually mary snaps and screams at the lady to leave her alone and the lady kind of furtively looks around and says I’m trying to help. Mary says I don’t WANT your help and then hightails it and dies again. After a few more loops where the woman is present but never approaches mary, mary stalks up to her and says. Who are you. Lady very wryly says your guardian angel. Mary says how can you help. Lady says you don’t want my help. Mary goes well I changed my mind I want it now. Lady grabs her hands and looks at her and very earnestly says, no, you don’t want my help. weird! Mary leaves. Dies. For awhile mary keeps meeting with the lady just because she’s a semi comforting constant. Lady keeps giving her advice that’s more and more rote just go back to your husband, until eventually she stops doing that and just listens to Mary. When Mary asks what she thinks instead of launching into the stay with him speech she just stands up and says I need to go.

Their meetings after this are pretty similar: the lady will listen, the lady will tell her it’s a hard decision, but when mary asks her what to do instead of saying “go back” like usual, the lady sighs and says she needs to go before she disappears. Eventually mary stops asking because she doesn’t want the lady to disappear so soon. they start spending the day just hanging out. mary takes her to her favorite places in town and asks if she likes them, asks what the lady wants to do, the whole nine yards. day always ends with mary trying to leave john and having a sudden aneurysm/tripping and cracking her skull/etc. after a couple of weeks of this her and the lady hook up and the lady tells mary that her name is anna.

mary dies again and the next day when she sees anna just starts crying about how she doesn’t want to go back. ends her rant with “and i know what you’re going to say, or what you’re not going to say, but just don’t. please.” anna holds her and holds her and after several minutes of silence says “i think you should leave.” mary’s shocked, anna’s shocked, mary has a heart attack and dies.

the next day mary tells anna that she wants to leave with her. anna looks conflicted and terrified but nods. while they’re driving or w/e anna is like mary. this isn’t going to work. you know this isn’t going to work. but i think - look. listen. we don’t have a  lot of time. i think i know how to break this. i wrote it down, you’ll have to translate it - and then anna screams and she’s just Not There anymore. this freaks mary the fuck out while she’s driving, she crashes, dies.

mary spends the next morning hitting all the places she’s seen anna before. nothing. she tears up her house and all these places looking for the journal anna was holding before she disappeared. nothing. she gets more and more frustrated and it’s only after she like completely destroys an aisle at the gas station to no response from anyone that she realizes something is more wrong than usual. she goes back out to her car and there’s this guy leaning against it who goes. hi.

she asks who he is, he tells her to call him chuck. she asks what he wants, he says to help her. she doesn’t trust this for obvious reasons. she asks where anna is. he shrugs and says she’s under performance review. she asks if anna’s okay. he laughs and says oh yeah, she’s gonna be a perfect little angel for about the next ten years. then she’s going to have a great life. very loved by her parents. their little miracle baby, you know?

she asks what he really wants. he shrugs. same thing you want, really. for this whole thing to be done with. mary asks what he means. he waves a hand at her. the groundhog day thing. oh. forgot you don’t know what that is yet. the time loop thing. leaving, dying. leaving, dying. look. just go back home to your ever so loving husband, and everything will be fine.

i don’t want to go back to my husband, mary says. you love him, chuck says. i don’t know that i do, mary says. chuck frowns and tilts his head at her. sighs, twists his hand. mary feels like she just got stabbed in the heart. what did you do, she asks. do you love him? and she thinks about it. and she says. yeah. and then she thinks about it some more. and says but i dont like him. i dont like my husband. chuck claps his hands together and says. okay! what don’t you like? he’s boring. chuck smiles. boring! i can work with boring. perfect apple pie boy from kansas not doing it for you, huh? what about this. what about if he was from... illinois. what if it’s just been him and his mom since he was a kid, because his dad stepped out on them. what if the war made him a little harder, which you like more than him staying kind after the war. chuck laughs. oh, i like that a lot better actually. that’s what we’re running with. mary doesn’t say anything to this.

chuck asks her if she’s ready to go back home to her new and improved husband. mary says anna had a journal. so she did, chuck says, and hands it to her. it’s written in sumerian, so good luck with that. you can spend awhile trying to track down a translator, or. he waves his hand, and it all reads in english. she skims through it. will it work? she asks, and chuck snorts. no. of course not. you’re welcome to try. i’ll be here when you’re done. she leaves. tries the spell or whatever. tells john she’s leaving. dies. when she wakes up the next morning, chuck’s sitting at her table. we done with this? he asks, and mary stabs him. he pulls out the knife, looking annoyed. okay, yeah. we’re done with this, he says, and waves a hand and mary gets struck by lightning.

she wakes up. john’s getting ready for work. there are a few cues that tell us this is the same day. john looks over before he leaves and sees that mary’s crying. he’s very confused. asks her what’s wrong. i don’t know, she says. i don’t know. he asks if he should call his mom. she says no. he asks if he should skip work. she says no. he tells her he loves her. she says i love you too, and he leaves. she spends the day pretty dazed. wanders around town not realizing she’s hitting all the spots where she saw anna. goes to a park where a guy runs into her. it’s chuck. oh, sorry. he says. it’s okay, she says, not recognizing him. great day, huh, he says, and she nods, not really paying attention. bet your husband’s enjoying it, he says, and when she looks confused he points to her ring. oh. yeah. she says. sorry, excuse me, she says, i have to get home. i need to start dinner. he smiles at her, winks, and says her husband’s a lucky man.

they eat together. they sleep together. when mary wakes up it’s a new day. she smiles at john before he leaves and kisses him when he gets back home. end miniseries

[becaeffinmitchell]

Fic: what i have (is who i carry home) (1/1)

Summary: Chloe, as it turns out, loves Valentine's Day.

Of course she does. Beca can't say she's surprised in the least.

aka, five Valentine's Days Beca Mitchell's had.

Note: After ten thousand years, I’m free! Or, you know, after eight years, I’m finally posting my first Bechloe fic. Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone 🥰  Gif credit goes entirely to @evenstars​ (thank you so much again!)

Words: 4,954

Read below or on AO3!

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i. 2012, Freshman Year, Barden University

There are so many other things Beca would rather be doing.

Like go to the dentist. Actually show up for class. Spend time over dinner with her dad and the step-monster.

Okay, maybe not that last one. Nothing in the world would make her choose that.

But here she is, in that stupid red hoodie, holding that stupid bow and arrow, standing in front of people, refusing to sing that stupid song with Amy.

*

 Later, back at the auditorium where they have Bellas practice, Aubrey's voice is shrill and loud. (As always, Beca thinks.)

"Beca, you really need to be picking up the slack. We need every dollar that we can raise so that we have enough to cover our journey to the semi-finals, and you're dead last in our fundraiser right now."

Amy mutters something under her breath, soft enough for Beca to hear something about — the bus? The Trebles? She doesn't really know. Whatever it is, it's not something she wants to get in the middle of.

"Maybe we can think of something new to do." Beca's tone is dry, and she schools her expression into something neutral on her face, her head tilted slightly, knowing that Aubrey has to know she isn't just talking about the fundraising activity.

It's just — she can feel the potential of these girls, okay? And it's such a shame that they're stuck doing the same three songs, over and over. If she could at least try, show them her arrangements, maybe they'd have a fighting chance.

"I have the pitch pipe, and I say we do this exactly how we have been doing it."

Beca is about to say something snarky, something she knows is going to get under Aubrey's skin, when Chloe's voice rang out beside her.

"It's okay. I'll do it with Beca tomorrow."

She hasn't even noticed Chloe approaching them in the midst of this, so her head whips around so fast at the sound of her voice.

"Don't you have a class during that time, Chloe? That's the whole reason why we couldn't pair you up with Beca." There's something about Aubrey's clipped words that is super careful and controlled, like there's more that she wants to say but isn't.

Chloe shrugs, before turning to Beca with a beaming smile. "It's okay, skipping out on one Russian Lit lecture won't make a difference."

 *

 Chloe, as it turns out, loves Valentine's Day.

Of course she does. Beca can't say she's surprised in the least. She thinks she doesn't know anyone who's more enthusiastic about everything and anything.

There's something about Chloe that feels like embers starting at the base of Beca's dead, cold heart, warming it up and turning itself three sizes larger.

It's not a thing she wants to unpack right now; she's not the type to get attached to people, and especially not when she's going to go through with her plan, and leave at the end of the school year. It doesn't matter if her dad helps her or not.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" Chloe's voice, melodic as it comes, breaks the silence as they walk towards the south quad. She looks ready to go through the entire residence hall, her angel wings bouncing behind them.

"It's a day corporations literally invented to convince everyone to buy cards and chocolates and flowers at jacked up prices, so..."

Chloe lets out a happy sigh. "Maybe so. But it's also a day to celebrate love! And love is so awesome. I love love. And I'm not just talking about romantic love, though that is nice. You can also celebrate the love from all relationships in your life. Like your best friends, or your parents, or your siblings."

Beca raises an eyebrow, because Chloe is just so goddamn earnest. She tugs at her hoodie. "Let me guess, you and shower guy have a date?"

"Who, Tom?"

"How many shower guys do you have?" There's a beat. "Actually, don't answer that."

 *

 So here she is, still in that stupid red hoodie, still holding that stupid bow and arrow, standing in front of people, and singing a duet with Chloe Beale.

 *

 The next morning, Kimmy unceremoniously drops a box at the foot of Beca's bed, a loud thud waking her up.

There's a sleeping mask, a whole clip of flash drives, two huge jars of peanut butter, and cans of Red Bull in the box. There's also a card, and her name is written carefully in the middle of an envelope.

Happy Valentine's Day, Beca!!!! I've said this before, and I'll say it forever: I'm SO glad that I met you. I LOVE that you love music like it's the one thing you can't live without. It's something that really resonates with me, too. You make us better. :) :)

xoxo,

Chloe!

 *

 Beca drifts off to sleep that night, the music still playing in her headphones. She's wearing that sleeping mask across her eyes.

 ------------

ii. 2014, Junior Year, Barden University

 The thing with Jesse is, he really loves these grand gestures of romance.

Sometimes Beca thinks that that's his favorite part. It's almost like he's in love with the idea of being in a relationship.

Worse still, in love with the idea of her, like she's this perfectly scripted character who exists for him.

Last year for Valentine's Day, Jesse had shown up at her dorm. Well, outside of her window actually, boombox on his shoulder. She'd tried not to wince, her lips pressed together into something resembling a smile (she hopes) to the strains of In Your Eyes, at the ungodly hour of dawn.

It isn't even that she had just gotten to sleep like, two hours before that. Or the very clear and enunciated "fuck off!" that her neighbor gave them, complete with a dramatic slamming of her window. At least she doesn't have to deal with that now, now that they've all moved into the Bellas house, newly renovated.

It was just a lot, right? And maybe she should have been a better girlfriend to anticipate it this year, or at least match some of that. Rise up to his level, or something. She just has a reservation to a fancy Italian restaurant in Midtown, and she made that way in advance. So maybe she gets points for that?

January rolls into February, and she dreads it. Every day is a countdown to The Fourteenth.

 *

 Here's the more pressing thing: Chloe seems sad. Not all the time, but Beca catches it occasionally.

She presumes she knows her best friend pretty well by this point, until she's doing things like failing a single class on purpose so that she doesn't graduate. For the second year in a row.

And Beca gets it, at least on an abstract level. If she starts thinking about what comes after graduation — and that's in a year and some — she gets nervous, too. But in no version of her reality does she get so paralyzed with fear, that she would opt to repeat her senior year like it’s groundhog year.

She wishes she could know why, for certain. She can't help if she doesn't know what's going on in Chloe's head, but for the first time, it's Chloe's turn to clam up and switch the subject.

So Beca doesn't push. She hopes it's enough to keep her afloat as she works through whatever it is. She doesn't really know what that entails, but music? Music she can do.

She pours her energy into putting together a really solid mix for Chloe; it's all the songs that remind Beca of her, and their friendship. She picks songs and arranges them and removes them before she puts them back in, because it has to sound right.

Beca feels like the world's biggest dork for giving it to her the morning of Valentine's Day.

Well, second biggest dork, because she intercepts Chloe leaving the gift boxes in the room, for her and Amy.

"Hey, uh. Happy Valentine's Day," she says, handing her the flash drive — one of the many that Chloe has gotten her over the years, like she's her supplier — and hoping she doesn't look as awkward as she feels. "It's not anything like your, like, super thoughtful gifts." She gestures in that general direction. "But you're my best friend, so... here."

She gets pulled into a hug, and Beca can't be sure, but it sounds like Chloe's 'thank you' is strained and she's about to cry.

Beca hopes it's enough.

 *

 "So, Jesse gave you just the one earring?"

Beca's back from the dinner. It was... nice? There was a string quartet and Jesse made them play John Legend's All Of Me, and Beca didn't actually die of embarrassment when he started singing along, so she'll chalk that up as a win.

"Yeah, it's like — symbolism, I guess. From the movie." Beca shrugs, chewing on the popcorn she's made that Chloe is currently stealing. She thinks about lightly smacking her hand away, but ends up shifting the bowl so that it's nearer to Chloe.

Does she regret putting Don't You (Forget About Me) in their setlist? Maybe.

Probably not, all things considered, because it worked well together with the other songs, and they did win the finals that year. But it elevated the movie to mythical and legendary status for Jesse, and if he does that arm raising motion one more time during squabbles he wants to get out of? Beca might lose it even harder.

"Is it symbolism or a metaphor? I could never tell the difference."

"I think it was a metaphor in the movie," Beca starts, a thoughtful expression on her face. "But more of a symbol for like, me and Jesse? Oh my god." She presses her free hand to her eyes. "You're such a nerd. Stop making me think deeper about this than I need or want to."

"I just think it's nice," she hears Chloe say.

Beca hums, tone neutral. "It's something, for sure. Wait." She whips her head to face her best friend. "You didn't go out tonight? Ms. 'I Love Love'?"

Chloe chuckles lowly, quietly. "I have all I need here in this house, anyway."

 *

 When Beca goes to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a glass of water, she thinks she hears the soft strains of her mix playing from Chloe's room.

   ------------

  iii. 2017, Brooklyn, NY

 It's apparently the warmest February in New York on record, but Beca is still fucking freezing.

The incessant chill envelops the air, and she pulls her coat closer to her. She's bundled under layers, but the radiator in their tiny little apartment is, as most things in it, almost completely busted.

Jesus Christ. It's cold.

 *

 Amy is convinced she's cold because she's moping, because she's sad about breaking up with Jesse.

Beca knows she isn't, and it's not just the long distance thing.

They'd given it a fair go, and it sucked that he got busier with classes and she tried to solve all of the music industry's problems as an associate producer, working hours trying to make tracks sound... sonically unrotten.

It's not just the long distance thing, because if Beca was honest with herself, it was probably a sign that when he told her that he was thinking of completing his studies in California, her immediate response was that of neutral indifference.

So, she is totally fine.

 *

 Beca hears Chloe singing softly before the door even opens, and she can hear it swing open too, and she knows Chloe is about to shrug her coat off —

"Don't bother, it's also cold in here," Beca says, from under the covers.

Then, her eyes track Chloe as she walks to the radiator —

"I checked, it's working. Supposedly."

"Aww." Chloe strides the distance — not that it's that long — and sits down on their shared bed. "You're so cute when you're grumpy."

"Aren't you freezing?" she chooses to deflect the comment, hugging herself petulantly. "Hey, how was your date with that guy at the clinic?"

Chloe hums noncommittally. "We went for coffee and he double-booked me with another girl."

"Dude. What a dick." Beca feels a flash of — annoyance? Chloe deserves the world. Chloe deserves everything she wants. "I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay though." Chloe smiles at her. It's that smile that Beca catches that she thinks it's just for her, but she's also a logical person who knows that Chloe has that ability to make people feel like they're the most important person in the world. "I've got all I need right here."

Warmth pools at Beca's stomach, and honestly. It's a nice change from the freezing.

 *

 It's 2 AM, and they're cuddling, because of course they are; because Chloe is warm; because Chloe is an embrace personified; because... Chloe.

Beca stirs awake, and she feels Chloe's breath tickle at the base of her neck. She shifts, not uncomfortably. Then, Chloe's hand drifts sleepily, and lands somewhere on Beca's hip.

And then.

And then.

There is a sudden, startling clarity in Beca's mind, knocking the figurative breath out of her. Her eyes fly open.

She loves Chloe.

And not in the same way where she loves the rest of her found family in the other Bellas.

Oh no, a voice sounds in her mind.

Oh, this is very bad, she thinks.

She can't believe how still she is right now, feeling the entire weight of Chloe's body in contact against her. Feeling her slow, steady breathing against her back. She's not even cold anymore.

Okay. So she loves her best friend. Cool, cool, very cool. That's totally fine. She can handle this.

Chloe's been such a fixture in her life, at every turn; in every note in between the downbeat and upbeat that is her life. Music is in Beca's veins, her whole life, but music flows right through Chloe. She's tucked warmly in the melody, a motif throughout the entire song.

Holy shit, Beca thinks. She's been in love with Chloe for so long, she doesn't even know when it started.

 *

 Okay, so. There's a weird spot on the ceiling, right? And Beca just keeps staring at it, because if she closes her eyes, she will feel Chloe's presence so keenly, pressed next to her.

She can't do anything with this knowledge. She can imagine it now, Chloe giving her a comforting hug but tells her, sorry Beca, I love you but not in that way.

It's five whole years of friendship, of Chloe by her side no matter what, and that is the one thing that she's got that she doesn't want to risk, just because she had this stupid revelation.

God. It's so stupid. It'll pass. Right?

 ------------

 iv. 2018, Los Angeles, CA

 What is really fucking weird, even in the grand scheme of things, is journalists asking her if she's doing anything for Valentine's Day.

Which, like. First of all, Beca's not stupid, she knows it's a way to suss out her personal-slash-love life.

She's kept that pretty close to her chest for now.

But also, there's literally nothing to tell. She's not being defensive because there's something to hide away. Beca is knee-deep in work all the time, and she goes home to an apartment that feels too big for just herself. It's a big change from the entirely too cramped apartment in Brooklyn.

Sometimes she finds herself missing that very specific part of her life. Not the struggling and being unhappy doing work with no integrity, obviously. But Chloe is now a message and three hours ahead, instead of being a daily fixture in her apartment, and it leaves Beca feeling off-kilter.

But maybe that distance is a good thing, after... you know. Revelations.

Anyway.

Her work ethic doesn't stop rumors. She's linked to every guy available — and some not — every single time one of them likes her Instagram posts. She's pretty sure she's had at least two full relationships, according to the National Enquirer.

Theo gleefully sends her screenshots. She tells him to fuck off.

 *

 Chloe Look out, super star! I'm going to be in LA for a good friend's wedding in February!! If you think we're not going to hang, you're sorely mistaken.

 Beca is busy, but she sure as hell isn't going to miss Chloe coming to LA.

 Beca You have good friends outside of the Bellas? I am shocked, Beale.

 Chloe Don't be jealous 😉

 She's not. Not because of that, she catches herself thinking, and frowns at herself. Not because of anything, she decides. It's also exactly how she decides she doesn't have feelings for Chloe anymore, because Chloe is happy with Chicago, and Beca has work, and honestly? Best outcome out of every outcome possible.

Still, Beca offers up her apartment for the long-ish weekend that Chloe would be in town. She's not a monster, and Chloe has like, a mountain of student debt.

It's the least she could do.

 *

 (Beca thinks back to that first performance at the Citadel, just under a year ago. Thinks of all the nerves she's never felt before, while she's walking to the microphone. She's always had the girls on stage with her, but not this time. Her family would be seated in the front row, supporting her no matter how far she goes.

She gets to bring them up on stage this time, of course, but it's also a temporary balm and she knows it. But that's fine, she can figure that part out.

It's the after that smarts a little.

After the performance, after the event, after she feels that pit, growing and clawing from her stomach when she sees Chloe lock lips with Chicago.

After she walks away with Theo, trying her level best to carry on a conversation as if she's not affected by what she'd just seen; trying not to think of all the what-ifs.

After, on the plane back home, when she directs a small smile at Chloe's direction. If she's happy then she's happy for her.

It's the least she could do.)

 *

 Chloe's flight reaches the airport at 7 in the evening, and Beca's right there at LAX, waiting for her to emerge. She can see a couple of people with the big paparazzi cameras, training their lenses at her, but she doesn't care.

There's a flash of red as she sees Chloe running to her, and thankfully she catches her.

"Oh, I've missed you," Chloe says, so earnest and sincere as always; always, and Beca can hear her own heartbeat. She's almost worried that Chloe can too, like a traitorous Tell-Tale Heart.

"Yeah, well, regular sight for sore eyes, that's me." That's good, right? She hits jocularity right in the bullseye with that, as if she can't feel the top of her ears growing hot.

Chloe just laughs; like another kind of warmth. She draws her in again, hand rubbing up and down Beca's back.

Beca thinks she's stupid, for feeling like she's home.

 *

 They get to Beca's place, Chloe appraising the place appreciatively as she wheels her luggage in.

"This is already at least fifty times nicer than our little shoebox in Brooklyn," she observes, and Beca shrugs, a little embarrassed.

"I mean, the label's paying for it, and it's like, it's — it's ridiculous." There's a voice at the back of Beca's head repeating, our little shoebox, and she wants it to shut up.

But it is ridiculous. She has so much space, and two rooms; she sleeps in one and the other one is where she works. She's pretty sure she spends more time in the latter than she does the former.

"Anyway, uh, so here's my sort-of office, it's a bit of a mess right now." She waves her hand around (god, why is she using her hands so much) at the room with her equipment and instruments, before stepping to her bedroom door. "And here's the bedroom, which, like. You should take the bed. My couch pulls out and it's really comfortable?"

"Don't be silly," Chloe tells her, looking back at the king-sized bed. "We've slept in way more crowded spaces. This will be perfect."

Beca swallows, hard. Perfect.

 *

 Falling back into a routine with Chloe is scarily easy.

She's been here for less than three hours, and Beca's already back to being attuned to her. They put on some music in the background, she listens to Chloe talk so passionately about school and all the stuff she's learning, and Beca is so proud.

She brushes her teeth and changes into her pajamas after Chloe does, exactly like how they used to, and climbs into her bed.

"Oh, shoot, I almost forgot," Chloe's saying, and Beca cocks her head curiously to see what she's forgotten. Her best friend comes back with a box, and hands it over to her.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Bec. Also, I don't think flash drives are in fashion now," she winks. "So your Google Drive storage has been renewed, for all the audio files you need to back up. Don't worry, I didn't look at anything else."

"Wh — oh. Oh, right, Valentine's Day, gifts and all," Beca says, and looks at the box in her hand. "Wait, is this —"

"Chocolate from your favorite place in New York? Yessss," Chloe says, a laugh coloring her tone. She settles back into bed. "Not that you have a shortage of chocolate places here, but Amy reminded me of the time she ate most of the last box after how you were saving your favorite pieces, so I thought I'd bring some here for you."

Beca's heart clenches.

"Thanks, Chlo." She's pretty proud of how unwavering her voice is. "I miss it."

"It's been tough for me too, not having you in my orbit," Chloe says, bumping their shoulders together.

"Yeah? Must be extra tough, because Chicago's not around either." Then she's scrambling. "Not that I'm like, comparing myself to your boyfriend in any way."

She sees Chloe's mouth twist to the side. Beca's eyebrows knit together.

"Chlo?"

"He's not my boyfriend anymore." Chloe's words are slow, measured. Like she's afraid of setting something off.

Beca pauses, as she takes it all in.

"Oh. I mean — Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's been..." Beca sees Chloe's furrowed brows as she thinks. "Three months, almost. Just right before Christmas."

Beca thinks back to Christmas; to the group messages, the online gift cards and food deliveries made in each other's names. Nowhere in her memory exists this piece of information, and she's pretty sure she's not been that shitty of a friend to miss this.

It feels a little bit like being hurt, actually.

"Oookay," she says, licking her lips a little, letting the air out of her slowly. "Okay. Well. Good night, Chloe."

 *

 Beca can't fall asleep, and she's pretty sure she knows why. It's been an hour of staring at the ceiling, and she tries to will her stupid mind to shut down for the night.

She thinks Chloe must be asleep by now; her body clock must be three hours —

"Bec?"

Beca pauses for so long that she thinks Chloe might actually think she's asleep.

"Yeah."

She feels Chloe shift. "I want you to ask me."

Beca wants to be obtuse and frustrating; wants to pretend she doesn't know what she's talking about. Instead, the confusion and hurt win out.

She pushes herself up on her elbows, then into a sitting position. It doesn't feel like a conversation that they should have lying down. She waits for Chloe to do the same, before finding her voice and words.

"Why didn't you tell me that you and Chicago broke up?" Dimly lit by the street lights outside, Beca sees her shift in place, and she feels Chloe's hand reaching for hers. "I thought — well. You know. That we tell each other things."

Which is slightly rich, coming from her, she knows. But still.

Chloe sighs, just quietly. "Because I have feelings for someone else."

Beca blinks, taking that in. It's a weird feeling because she's simultaneously crushed and hopeful, and maybe it's the hour, or maybe it's Chloe's hand in hers, but as her eyes sweep across Chloe's face, Beca is emboldened.

She leans in, and time feels like it's slowing down as she closes the distance and presses her lips on Chloe's, roughly and then temperately.

Beca's not the most impulsive person. In the moments, though, when she is, they always leave her wondering if she'd done something stupid — like punching creepy middle-aged a cappella guys, like leaving in the middle of a fight, like pulling the girls up on stage during her solo set.

Like kissing Chloe Beale in her bed.

So she pulls back suddenly, as quickly as she had started it, an apology already stumbling out. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I just assumed, I'm so sor—"

Chloe makes a noise; something that sounds like no, her eyes so startlingly blue even in this light, and Beca freezes. She's sure her brain is working out some sort of rambling apology or excuse, maybe pass it off as a joke somehow?

But Chloe pulls her back in, both thumbs lightly touching Beca's cheekbones as she meets their lips again.

This second kiss is deeper, slower, more connected. It takes her breath away, as her hand curls at the back of Chloe's neck. Chloe tastes like mint and sweetness and sincerity, and a little like hopeless optimism on Beca's part.

A soft gasp escapes, and Chloe pulls away this time.

Beca has a tentative smile on her face, as she takes in a breath heavily; the questions written so plainly on her face.

Chloe's eyes shine.

"It's always been you, Beca."

 ------------

 v. 2020, Los Angeles, CA

 Having your anniversary on Valentine's Day is good. And bad.

Mostly good, because it means that Beca has that to help keep herself honest and not forget it, because it's impossible to.

Also, she won't forget, but, you know. Just in case.

Bad, especially last year, because it fell right around the Grammys weekend, and apparently when you're nominated and win pretty much... every single category you're in, that's kind of a big fucking deal.

(It started with Best New Artist, and by the time she's on that stage a fourth time, she literally had no other words and nothing but so much gratitude.)

But yeah, so last year's Valentine's Day-slash-anniversary was overwhelming. People contacting her from all corners, wanting to congratulate her and get some sound bites; the internet pouring both support, and scathing critique on her and her music.

Beca wishes she could say she rose above it, that she was as cool as her publicist thinks her to be.

Instead, Chloe had to deal with her, a stressful human ball of anxiety and nerves. Amazing, wonderful, sweet Chloe, just happy to be around her during these exciting and utterly vulnerable times.

 *

 This year, though. This year she's older and wiser.

Hopefully.

This year, the day falls on a Friday, but they've decided to celebrate it the next day and through the weekend instead, because Chloe has a seminar she needs to attend for school, and Theo had packed Beca's entire day with a long meeting.

Key word: had.

At 7 AM, as she wakes up groggily and checks her phone, the invite has disappeared from her calendar, presumably rescheduled for some other time. She vaguely notes the message from Theo about entire teams not being available, and Beca's not going to question the reason why, because she's immediately looking up flights to Ithaca and books the first one out.

 *

 (I'm not private jet rich, dude. Also, carbon footprint. Text to Amy, because of course.)

 *

 Here's her plan:

She'll make a beeline to Chloe's apartment (Beca's been here plenty of times, in the past couple of years; met her friends here in Cornell, hung out with them, appreciated that they're her support circle while she's here), and she'll say something incredibly dorky, and Chloe will kiss her, and then, they will properly celebrate.

God, the things Chloe can do with her mouth; the sounds Beca can get her to make.

Beca doesn’t even bother squirming in the plane seat.

 *

 Chloe I have a surprise!!!

Whereeee are you? 🥰🥰🥰

 *

 Here's what happens instead:

Beca has to fly back home — noun, the place where she lives; noun, Chloe — because while she was spending six hours flying east, Chloe had done the same in the opposite direction; her seminar being canceled (something about the professor being sick?).

She can't believe it.

Okay, she can maybe believe it.

God, the Bellas are going to have a field day with this.

 *

 In the group chat, Chloe's taken a selfie of herself in Beca’s apartment and captioned it: I flew here a day early to surprise Beca, but she flew to Cornell instead to surprise me too 😂

 Emily OMAG YOU GUYS that is SO CUTE!!!!!!

 Beca reads Emily's text, shaking her head, knowing that this is the younger girl's version of restraint.

 Flo One time I thought a guy was going to propose to his girlfriend on the plane, but turned out he was having a heart attack instead.

 Jessica&Ashley #justsoulmatethings

 *

 Rush hour in LA is so horrible, and it's nearly 8 PM when she finally gets back to her apartment. She jogs all the way from the Lyft to her door.

Beca never jogs.

Her own door flings open, and she sees the smiling face of the woman she loves.

"Flying cross country for me is so romantic."

"You did that too," Beca points out, a small smirk on her face.

"Yeah, but you did it twice." Chloe beams, and kisses her again, and again.

[anondudeao3]

Fic Recs!

Since I'm on hiatus, I've finally had time to do some reading, and I thought I'd give some fic recommendations, since I won't be posting for quite a while. These are my absolute favourites!

(I split this into two posts — one for JayDick and one for JayTim — because once I finished with the first half, I realised it was quite long)

JayTim

19th of October

By: gothamnight

Word Count: 8,395

Summary: Jason's stuck in a time loop and forced to relive the same day over and over again. Surprisingly, it's not that bad when he spends every day with Tim.

→ A 'Groundhog Day' scenario! It's so (bitter)sweet seeing Jason slowly fall in love with a Tim who completely doesn't even remember that they don't hate each other. And a happy ending!

Honeymoon

By: cinnamon_skull

Word Count: 14,793

Summary: Tim and Jason go undercover as a just-married couple celebrating their honeymoon in order to catch a high-profile drug lord. Hand-holding, kissing, secret rendezvous and bed sharing ahead.

→ Who doesn't love a good fake relationship fic? The ever-mounting tension between Jay and Tim is just chef's kiss, and seeing the difference between the ease with which Tim seduces people for the case vs how flustered he gets when things get too intimate with Jay is hilarious.

Worlds Apart

By: commanderquill

Word Count: 22,984

Summary: “Let me get this straight,” Bruce says, in full Batman regalia save for the cowl hanging from his neck, and Jason shuffles awkwardly. “You met the only merboy in all of Poseidonis, and within minutes of knowing him agreed to break into Atlantis’ highest acclaimed science laboratory to steal an experiment of top research priority, because it felt like the right thing to do? Even though you didn’t actually know what you were doing at first?”

“Was he cute?” Barbara pipes in with zero grace. “What?” she says in response to Bruce’s look. “It’s an important question. Boys are stupid around pretty people. You’ve met Dick, right?”

→ Okay, this one is pre-slash, but it's so fucking cute and well written I had to include it! It's little Jay and little mer!Tim having an adventure (small heist) together! It's so fun, you won't regret reading it. (I also recommend checking out their other works, especially 'One Step Closer', although it is unfinished and possibly abandoned it's so good. More kid Jay and Tim goodness!)

Forget Me Not

By: wellthatjusthappend

Word Count: 30,423

Summary: “It’s always nice to know how disposable we are to them, isn’t Replacement?”

“Jason?” Tim’s head snapped up, tension coiling all through him.

“Don’t worry though, we’re gonna prove them all wrong again.”

→ This is a heavy, angry one, but it hits so fucking good. Tim has been missing for almost two years, and when Jason finds him he has a lot to work through with how the whole family assumed he was dead and didn't look for him. Jason is only grudgingly helping him recover at first, and they don't exactly like each other, but watching them slowly get closer, and watching Tim grow into himself and the ways he's changed because of his experience is really beautiful. It's always fun to read morally grey Tim, and the writing really makes it feel so righteous, like Tim deserves to do the things he does.

strange fear i ain’t felt for years

By: Sister

Word Count: 31,350

Summary: “Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has to come begging to the Red Hood,” he says against Tim’s neck. “Thought they’d be lining up down the block for you. Thought Daddy would need to get the shotgun.”

“You’re the one with the shotgun,” Tim points out.

++

Tim’s benched with a broken arm and starts playing Jason’s personal Oracle. Things escalate.

→ Probably hilariously unnecessary to rec this, since it has almost 86.5k views on AO3, but it was one of the (if not possibly the) first JayTim fic I ever read. I reread it somewhat recently and still love it. The whole concept of Tim playing Jay's personal Oracle is one I love dearly, and I go wild for it every time I see it in fics. There's hot phone sex and exciting casefic elements too! If you somehow haven't read this, I definitely recommend!

The Knight's Quest

By: chibi_nightowl

Word Count: 67,449

Summary: Sir Timothy Drake never wanted to be a knight. But when his parents send him off on a quest to slay a dragon, what else was he to do? Of course, said dragon has his own thoughts on the matter and his counterproposal is much more enticing than a fiery death.

→ Ohhhh this one. THIS ONE. The fantasy was done so well. The plot was amazingly engaging, the descriptions were so immersive, the emotion, the worldbuilding. This story has it all. I promise you, you will not regret reading this one, it's positively magical. (I also recommend all of their other works, especially the 'Moon, Snow, and Ice' series! But seriously, all their works. There are so many and I've read them all, and they're all amazing.)

Bite Your Tongue

By: dnawhite76, Prubbs

Word Count: 109,135

Summary: Being raised by a famous actress and and hockey legend, Jason learned at an early age that his dirty laundry would always be up for public display. But that never bothered him until rumors started flying about his relationship with the internet's favorite rookie defenseman.

→ Now, if you're like me and you generally don't like super AU AUs — particularly no capes — (despite the surprisingly several over both rec lists, which I guess just shows that some of the best fics can be the ones that aren't what you're looking for!), you may be thinking why hockey? Just read it. It's so good. I honestly have no fucking clue what made me click it the first time, but I'm so glad I did. I don't know anything about hockey, I have zero interest in sports normally, yet this fic managed to be super engaging and interesting with all of the playing and hockey talk. And also the premise of them being shipped together by fans? Adorable and hilarious.

Edit: because I am just now rereading BYT for the first time in a while and I forgot, just a warning, it does use a slur for Romani once.

[bular]

Welcome to Live Commentary

I had no one to talk to while watching the movie and I hate being alone with my thoughts so I wrote everything down in my notes app. It's not coherent! Enjoy!

Aw yeah 1.5 seconds of Bular that is all I needed! Might as well stop now I've seen my boy I'm satisfied.

Why is there a nearly 4 minute recap as if I haven't watched the show at least 50 times. I should be the one giving the recap.

The beginning felt a bit forced to me but maybe that's just me? Like they just tried to squeeze too many things into a small timeframe without any buildup, it just didn't really work. Congrats on the engagement! This is my OTP so I'm very happy! But it came out of nowhere.

Nari in Douxies body is so wrong and I love it and hate it at the same time (positive)

Eli is BIG. I knew he was gonna be tall but I was not prepared for that chiseled face. Or the fact that he stepped off the ship without glasses? I wear glasses and I would not choose to step off a spaceship blind.

OkAY who had mpreg on their bingo card?

AAARRRGGHH actually said a full sentence 🥺 there is no heterosexual explanation for this scene and I'm here for it

Arcadia being the center of the universe really does make a lot of sense. I hate how much sense it makes. Despise it.

Strickler in a Christmas sweater is something i didn't know I needed. Jim's jacket too but that's just adorable, Jim's adorable. Oh sweet baby you're about to get fucked over so bad.

Love seeing Barbara actively participating in battle too. Good for her! Power family!!

Where are the kids tho? Is NotEnrique babysitting? Either that or they hired the girl from the Incredibles movie.

Nomura is so talented I love seeing her fighting on the good side. I can't explain it but I love digitigrade legs they're just so pretty?? Aesthetically pleasing??? Fuck yeah, legg! I could watch Nomura run around and be badass all day.

WAIT NO OH SHIT HOW DARE YOU FUCK

STRICKLER DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE NOT YOU TOO THAT'S TOO FUCKING RUDE DON'T DO THIS TO ME

THERE'S NO WAY HE'S DEAD RIGHT WE SAW NO BODY

Barbara does not deserve this I refuse to accept it. He's fine he'll be back they wouldn't kill two Changelings at once. Also Nomura is with Draal now I take no criticism.

So my favorite characters were Bular, Draal, Gunmar and Angor. And before this movie I always half-joked that everyone I love dies, how I still like Strickler and Nomura but apart from them all of my faves were killed in the very order of favoritism. AND NOW LOOK AT THIS. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I LOVE A CHARACTER. MY LOVE IS TOXIC.

OKAY I LOVE GUN RO- WAIT NO I DON'T LOVE HIM FUCK ABORT ABORT

It's great tho omg

I didn't realize it was Gun Robot when I saw it in the trailer this is amazing

Okay but imagine you're chilling in your trollmarket minding your own business when some misfit group of strangers waltzes in, steals your favorite shiny and celebrates your death before running off

"I AM GUN ROBOT" IS THE HORN LMAOOO

Nana better show up at some point to reunite with her boytoy, I'll cancel this entire franchise otherwise

Something bad is going to happen to Toby isn't it. He's getting too much screentime

Jim's hand got DEEP FRIED

ARCHIE NO

We can play Scrabble okay if they don't free them (which they must) I want an after credits scene of them playing scrabble

Douxie and Nari's bond 🥺🥺🥺

Nari pls just say what you fuckin mean the world is ending

Oh god is she going to remember killing Nomura oh nooo

Claire don't make the portal you will die again. Your hair gon be white all over

EVERYONE AVOIDING THE SCHOOL JUST RIGHT THERE LMAO RIP

I love how Darci is just with the school bus. Civilian girlfriend. But also love how the world is ending and Coach is like "fuck that I'm gonna teach these kids"

Does he know his son is pregnant

"Going back to the city where it's safe" buddy have you been to that city

Whatever happens, Nari has the coolest looking titan. Giant four legged gremlin. I'd adopt him.

WAIT SHE CAN FEEL THE PAIN?

Me: oh i love that titan

The titan 5 seconds later:

Did Nari just fucking die what the FUCK

Oh of COURSE the pages are stuck together RIGHT THERE

Seriously tho how do you not notice an entire nougat nummy in a book

Wait so Arcadia has another heartstone? Or OH SO IT'S ALIVE. OKAY GREAT. GUNMAR COULDN'T EVEN DO THAT RIGHT HUH

Love how the Heartstone has been dormant/dead for months and apparently heard Blinky say it's alive and decided to wake up RIGHT THEN

Finally they're evacuating the city. This is like, the third apocalypse there. About time.

Okay so you can't pull Excalibur from the rock, but you CAN carve out the stone. Couldn't you just carve it off the sword as close as possible and like. Use that? Just swing the whole damn rock around?

God i can NOT get over Steve's pants. I mean I read a spoiler he was gonna be pregnant but I thought it was a prank or shitpost. I did not see this coming and I am never going to be over it. I love how he and Aja just roll with it and nobody else even cares. They've seen weirder stuff. So he's pregnant now. Whatever.

Jim's hand is bandaged and his ribs still hurt. I love that they're actually consistent with his injuries. I mean sucks for him but hell yeah for hero that doesn't always win!

Okayyy here comes the heartstone. Why not!

IS HE IN LABOR

So if you kiss an Akiridion 7 times you will have 3-5 babies in a few hours. How are they not overpopulated?? Also Aja couldn't have WARNED STEVE BEFOREHAND?

Eli is so supportive omfg

So uh where are the babies gonna come out of? I'm not into mpreg how does this usually work

OH STEVE THANKS FOR ASKING MY QUESTION

Oh good thing he happens to have 8 friends still alive. Otherwise this would've never worked. Nomura had to die otherwise there would've been 10 of them.

Why is everyone bowing to Jim? Did they rehearse this?

Stuart if you hadn't taken a bathroom break you would've thrown off the math and doomed the world. That was a poop of fate my man

Ahhh the signature quote. Where did Douxie and the Akiridions learn it? Did they rehearse this too? It's really cliché but I do like it tbh

If Strickler were dead we'd see more Barbara right?

WOOO BLINKY DRIVING

Ah Jim just used she/her for Bellroc! Finally we're learning some pronouns. I've been wondering this whole time.

MY VIRGIN EYES. WHAT IS GOING O N

How are they not dying with all this lava?

She really just yeeted Varvatos

Did Claire just tell AAARRRGGHH to jump off the titan and he did it without question

I want to say I like Stuart and want him to have more screentime, but I won't say it because I don't want him to die

Jim's poor ribs

Toby can drive yoooo

Tobyyy you're scaring meeeee

So did they really need the different stone or was the amulet just waiting for Jim to choose death over giving up

I saw the armor before but it looks VERY COOL

Also I didn't mention this before but I love that they cut Merlin's name from the incantation. Good for them.

Toby you lost your helmet noooo

For real tho I'm terrified for Toby rn. I saw a comment somewhere earlier that just said "Toby no" with no context and I am AFRAID

So do Bellroc's eyes work after all? I thought she was blinded back in Wizards in the past.

DID SHE JUST FUCKING STAB MY BOY

TOBY YOU SHOULD NOT BE THERE GET OUT THE TRUCK

Bellroc maybe screaming "i'm powerless" in front of your enemy isn't the best idea

She sploosh

DID JIM SURVIVE THAT FALL AND ALSO IS THE TACO TRUCK OKAY

How is he lifting Claire like that buddy you have bruised ribs and just got stabbed

ELI HI CAN WE SEE THE KIDS

SEVEN KIDS! AND ELI JR I LOVE IT

This show really loves to give people more than the recommended amount of babies with no warning huh

She immediately knows which one is Eli Jr 🥺 okay listen I'm not the biggest fan of comic relief sideplot surprise babies, but I have to admit they're cute. Cute couple. Throuple. Eli is in on this. He even has a Junior.

I TOLD YOU WHERE'S THE DAMN TACO TRUCK NANA WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU AND NEITHER WILL I

Oh yea he better fuckin be alive I will commit murder

HE BETTER FUCKIN BE ALIVE BITCH

FUCK YOU

THAT'S A WHOLE ASS CHILD HE ISN'T ALLOWED TO DIE IT'S ILLEGAL

JIM IS GONNA LOOK DOWN AT THE GREEN GLOWING BITCH AAARRRGGHH CONVENIENTLY THREW THERE AND SEE HIM ALIVE OR SOMETHING

YEAH USE THE SWORD TO UNDEAD HIM! THAT'S HOW YOU USE SWORDS!

Unbecoming Part 2

So is Jim just gonna Groundhog Day it until everyone is fine? There's only 13 minutes left we're gonna need a bigger movie

Also I screamed so much about everyone's death and now everyone reading this after they already saw the whole thing is gonna shame me for clowning huh

The scene where Blinky is giving his goodbye speech, there are no babies and Steve has a round belly? Did he reabsorb them?? I mean I know Jim is about to un-birth them but he hasn't started yet

JUST HOW FAR BACK IS HE PLANNING TO GO

WAIT HOLD UP EXCUSE ME WHAT

Oh they did NOT just do that. I though he was just gonna go back to like, the start of the movie maybe. Not all the way

Imagine being in your early twenties with as much trauma as this kid has and having to pretend you're 16 again

Somewhere Unkar is complaining because "oh sure NOW it's a good idea"

I know Jim is wondering where Toby is because he was there before. But before, he made an entire meatloaf AND did his homework before leaving the house, so honey maybe wait a minute

For a second I thought Toby wasn't gonna be there and Jim would return to the right time. But there he is!

Alright so they're in school now, did they take the canal and just didn't mention the amulet on screen or did they pass it as if the Unbecoming episode hadn't been that traumatizing? Jim you know what happens when you ignore it

Jim maybe you're being too obvious here lmao

Soooo. Anyway. These whole past years I've rewatched this show over and over and over again are cancelled now?

OKAY AT LEAST WE SAW NANA FOR A SPLIT SECOND THAT'S IRONIC TIMING

So we get the quote again. And Trollhunter Tobias is nice. Cool. Cool AU I mean, but I don't know. I don't knowwww. I've been way too invested in everything to just accept that it never happened?? So uh. Hm. How about this.

Strickler survived because fuck you, and Toby also survived and just has scars now. Maybe a wheelchair but he's fine, also he can use the Warhammer for super speed and make it awesome once he's used to it. Archie and Charlie get freed once they rebuild the bridge (and they were playing scrabble to pass the time). Nomura is still dead because she died on screen and I can't really deny that but she's with Draal so it's okay. Everyone is traumatized but they'll be fine. NotEnrique is still babysitting 500 babies and Steve is about to bring 7 more.

In summary, I reject Groundhog Day ending but everything else was great, as long as it actually happened. It was a good movie. But you can't just cancel years of passion. Having the prospect of a million "canon AUs" sounds great for writing but at the same time nooo you can't do that he didn't have to go back THAT far HHHHH

I liked the movie. It was a great watch and a satisfying end to a franchise, but I gotta say I do not fancy the ending of it so I will from now on be in denial. I honestly feel kind of betrayed that this show was my whole life for so long, I learned every smallest fact, and they basically deleted it from existence. I know what they were going for, I think, but no thank you I will be going with my own opinion. Still gonna rewatch it a few dozen times though ✌🏻

And that concludes my live commentary that was supposed to be a small handful of notes. Feel free to shame me for my opinions. See ya!

[ladyartemisia28]

Loop of Despair: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Hurts Like Hell

Summary:

Dean Winchester could not believe that his best friend, Castiel was confessing his feelings of love towards him.

But the message does settle in by the 4th or so time that he hears it.

15x18 time loop.

Word count:1978

Warnings:Major Character Death (repeatedly), Language, Suicide/Sacrifice.

Author's note: thank you to @castielsbeeslippers for teaching me to add a READ MORE on mobile💚💙.

~

Chapter Title in reference to the Song 'Hurts like Hell' By Fleurie

~

Dean momentarily blacked out as his heart began to physically fail him. He found himself coming back to consciousnesses standing hunched over near the entrance to the room. Dean sighed in relief as he looked over to see Castiel finishing up painting a protective sigil on the door with his angelic blood.

Dean could feel the literal death grip on his heart ease.

“Did it work?” Castiel asks and receives a nod as an answer. “I blocked her grip on you”

Knock

“Dean she said that wound was killing her.” Cas should with a small bit of hope in his voice. A knock interrupts his words. “Maybe we can wait her out.”

Dean walks away from Cas “Yeah and if we can’t?”

“Then we fight” he replies as he looks back at the door which has another knock coming from it.

“We’ll lose” Dean says as he reaches the chair in the middle of the demon circle. He turns to look at Cas who is now looking back as he continues his negative spiral. “I just led us into another trap.”

Another knock

“All because I couldn’t hurt Chuck” he looks downward. Another knock. “Because I was angry and because I just needed something to kill and because that is all I know how to do.”

“Dean” Cas says resolute as he approaches him

“It was Chuck all along.”

Knock

“We never should have left Sam and Jack we should be there with them now”

Knock

“Everybody’s gonna die, Cas. Everybody. I can’t stop it”

Knock

This time they both look at this knock while Dean moved towards Cas

“She’s gonna get through that door ”

Cas looks away from Dean while he replies “I know”

“And she’s gonna kill you. And then she’s gonna kill me”

Cas glances briefly at Dean and then looks away once again.

Dean sighs and looks down before he says “I’m sorry”

Cas looks into the middle distance back and forth like he was going over a plan in his mind. He appears to have found something, gulps and furrows his brow with determination

“Wait there is.”

Dean raises his head and turns his face to look at Cas with the smallest glimmer of hope.

“There’s one thing she’s afraid of. There’s one thing strong enough to stop her.” He finally turns his face to look at the eldest Winchester.

Dean looks at Cas and gulps listening intensely as Cas looks away.

“When Jack was dying, I…I made a deal” Cas returning his eyes to look at him once more. “To save him.”

“You what?”

“The… the price was my life” Cas says his eyes beginning to water with feeling “When I experienced a moment of true happiness The Empty would be summoned and it would take me forever”

Dean’s face was confused as he struggled with a responses.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

Knock

“I always wondered” Cas’s face turned to look away for the briefest of moments before he quickly found the resolve to turn his gaze fully at Dean. “Ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be. What my true happiness could even look like?”

“And I never found a answer”

“Because the one thing I want is something I know I can’t have.”

Knock

Dean is confused and silent.

“But I think I know, I think I know now. Happiness isn’t in the having…it’s in just being it’s in just saying it.”

Dean has to break his silence and ask in confusion.

“What are you talking about Man?”

Cas has a brighter expression on his face as he takes a step forward towards Dean.

“I know, I know how you see yourself Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You’re destructive, you’re angry, You’re Broken. You’re Daddy’s blunt instrument.”

“You think that hate and anger that’s what drives you, that’s who you are.”

“It’s not. And everyone who know so you sees it. Everything you have done the good and the bad you have done for Love.”

“You raise your little brother for love, You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are.”

Dean can no longer hold his gaze.

“You’re the most caring man on earth. You are the most selfless loving human being I will ever know.”

Cas’s sadily smiles

The knocking sounds further away at the moment.

“You know ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of hell” a tear rolls slowly down Cas’s right eye “Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared I cared. I cared about you, I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack, I cared about the whole world because of you”

“You changed me Dean”

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?” Dean asks still very confused at what was happening.

“Because it is”

“I love you”

“Don’t do this Cas” Dean pleads for him to not be saying these words as a goodbye.

One final knock.

The Empty appears behind Dean and he turns to look. Then quickly back at Cas as the door slams open Billie appearing behind it.

“Cas” Dean starts to say. Too many things are happening at once, he feels overwhelmed.

Cas places his blood covered right hand on to Dean’s left shoulder

“Goodbye Dean”

He shoves Dean to the floor before Dean can protest. Cas gives him one final fond look and then takes a breath.

The Empty grabs both of the otherworldly beings.

Dean is left with the silence before all of the emotion and tears break free.

~

Dean momentarily blacked out as his heart began to physically fail him. He found himself coming back to consciousnesses standing hunched over near the entrance to the room. Dean blinked in confusion as he looked over to see Castiel finishing up painting a protective sigil on the door with his angelic blood.

Dean could feel the literal death grip on his heart ease.

“Did it work?” Cas asks with concern.

“Wha…what’s happening?” Dean asks as he shakes his head to try and clear the fog

“Billie is coming after us.”

Dean stayed silence as Cas continued speaking. His words began to give Dean a sense of déjà vu

“Wait…this” he says quietly to himself.

He stares at Cas who continues telling him about his deal and telling Dean about how he was not a killer and how he was motivated by love.

Once Dean hears the words “I love you” he turns to look behind him a split second faster than he did originally.

He sees the empty and just panics.

“Take me you fucking tar pit!” Dean shouts as he runs full speed at it ignoring the panicked shout of his name behind him.

The inky darkness stilled as he threw himself at it.

~

He found himself coming back to consciousnesses standing hunched over near the entrance to the room. Dean blinked with shock as he looked over to see Castiel finishing up painting a protective sigil on the door with his angelic blood.”

“Did it….”

“Cas, we are in a time loop” Dean interupts

“What?”

“You summon the empty and you…”

“I summon the empty? But how?”

Dean could scream, ‘You fucking idjit! You gave him the idea!’

“You say a whole bunch of shit about me. I think letting me think that you love…”

“What?”

“Which is such a dick move. The way you say it is really…”

“Dean”

“The one thing you can’t have? Like what do you think I’m going to think when you say that?!”

“DEAN!”

“WHAT?!”

“I DO LOVE YOU!”

…

…..

“…what?”

He places his hand back on the same shoulder

“I love you,”

“Uh, like a brother right?” Dean asks with an eyebrow raise. He momentarily forgets about the time loop. Cas gives him a look of amusement.

Dean trys to make sense of what Castiel is saying to him.

“You love me? As in flowers, and chocolates,….uh” Dean gulps before weakly asking “kissing?”

“I’m sorry if this has made you um, uncomfortable. But just saying my truth is what was needed to make me happy. I feel an incredible amount of peace now. I am sorry I was not brave enough to tell you at an earlier time.”

This caused Dean to remember what was coming. Or in this cause, what had already arrived. In his pure confused and shocked state he had completely ignored that The Empty had already made it’s arrival.

“NO!” Dean shouted as he turned to look back and feel the hand hit his shoulder as he heard Cas’s final words to him again.

“Goodbye Dean.”

He was again at the moment where he was pushed away to the ground. This time he happened to find his voice..

“Cas, stop!” He yelled helplessly.

After the disappearance of Castiel happened again Dean just wordlessly screamed at full volume.

~

Dean momentarily blacked out as his heart began to physically fail him. He found himself coming back to consciousnesses standing hunched over near the entrance to the room. Dean blinked this time with anger as he looked over to see Castiel finishing up painting a protective sigil on the door with his angelic blood.

Dean could feel the literal death grip on his heart ease.

“Did it work?”

Dean ignores Cas’s question as he steadys his body and then rushes over to the storage boxes.

‘Okay so telling him did NOT work, Damnit! I see now why Sammy was so pissed off during his Groundhog day loop.’

“We have to find SOMETHING in this room to help us with this!” Dean shouts He makes an angry noise at knock behind him.

“Why do we have all this useless shit!”

“What the fuck is this?!” Dean asks as he holds up spiky crown.

“That is uh the crown of thorns” Cas replies. “That would be of no use to us in this situation.”

“If it can’t stop Billie then WHAT USE IS IT!!!” Dean yells as he throws it full force at the wall.

“There is one thing that is strong enough”

Dean’s head shot up his eyes wide to look at Cas’s face.

“NO no nonono!” he moves back towards him.

“Don’t you dare Cas.” He growled at him with a pointed finger.

“Dean, I have something you need to hear.”

“I will set your fine feathery ass on fire with holy oil if you keep on speaking your truth or whatever.”

He brushed past his accidentally blurted out flirty comment.

Cas tries to start his speech when Dean decks him.

It only gives him brief pause.

All it does is cause him to head tilt and stare at Dean with confused narrowed eyes.

“what, was that Dean?”

“See I AM fueled by ANGER! You can’t tell me otherwise!” Dean laughs mirthlessly. “Don’t lie to me!”

“No you are caring you are fueled by love.”

“No, you are wrong….you have to be wrong…I’m not…you…” Dean protested and waved his hands at Castiel. He then looked away from Cas.

“I know how you see yourself. If anyone was their Daddy’s blunt instrument it would have been me. I remember the first time I saw your soul. It shown bright even after it had been damaged in hell.”

“In my whole existence the only thing that changed me was you, Dean. I cared for the whole world because of you.”

“Please Cas,” Dean’s voice breaks “please don’t, I can’t do this again.”

“Yes you can, you’re strong and brave and you will survive my passing. I have no doubt. ” Cas thought he was just referring to Cas dying once again.

“I love you.”

As he felt the hand land on his shoulder once more Dean felt his lips tremble and tears pour down his face.

“Cas”

The Empty makes it’s entrance.

Castiel tosses him and is stolen once more from Dean.

Dean lets his tired head fall and waits for his next chance to change things.

(3).

~

(2).

[revive-the-fandom]

Jack is an introvert not an extrovert or an ambivert.

I would like to thank my enablers @dangdiggitydang @belleyells @hobie-brown @everythingfeelslike-themovies @grahminradarin @ginnyofgryffindor here is your answer

Reasons why:

1. Jack has exactly 0 friends in the spirit world. Bunny knows him and hates him or is at least miffed by him, Tooth knows of him as does North and presumably Sandy but for wildly different reasons. None of them are his friends, and none of them give the impression of ever having met him before, I would even argue that Sandy has never met Jack before. Given that Sandy mentions the Leprechaun and Bunny mentions the Groundhog it’s safe to say that there are other spirits wandering the world who Jack could meet and possibly befriend. Considering that there are also Elves, Yetis and Sentient Eggs I’d say there’s also probably several other magical species that Jack could also befriend. However, since Jack doesn’t go to anyone or seem to have any other form of support outside of the Guardians and MiM, I’m assuming that he doesn’t have anyone that he considers a friend or that he trusts enough to go to. This implies that he’s not very good at making friends.

2. Jack gets on best with North. This may seem a little shallow, but you’ve heard of an extrovert forcibly befriending/adopting an introvert? That’s how I see this relationship. North initiates more or less all of their conversations. North is also the one that goes to check on Jack throughout the movie. Sandy may have identified that North is best suited to convince and calm Jack after his fight with Bunny, but North is the one who continually comes back to Jack. And Jack continually sticks close to North because their boundaries have been set and North has shown an interest and gained a level of trust from Jack.

3. Jack doesn’t include himself in conversations. I can remember very few moments off the top of my head in which Jack actually speaks to the Guardians, or anyone tangible, without being prompted. He goes to reconcile with Bunny unprompted, and that’s pretty much the only time I remember him starting a conversation.

4. He’s just sort of there when he’s around the Guardians. I’m pretty sure this one could be proof by itself. Jack just gets swept up in the Guardian’s plans and goes where they go without really giving much input, especially after Sandy’s death.

5. I’m pretty sure he’s acting most of the time. He’s definitely acting in the Globe Room, no one is that calm after being kidnapped and teleported across the globe. Plus he also just met like, the spirit world version of A-List celebrities. You don’t get thrown in front of Beyonce, Keanu Reeves or Harrison Ford and not freak the fuck out. He’s 100% acting in the globe room and continues to act throughout the movie in a way that makes him seem more… friendly and open. He forgets himself in the Globe Room and gets overwhelmed by anger and betrayal so the act slides a bit but he picks it up in time to go walking with North. He lets the act go when North explains his purpose, his centre but pulls it back up for the sleigh ride. He’s noticeably concerned and out of his depth throughout the Tooth Palace scene but he completely drops his act once Pitch reveals himself and he feels threatened. The act goes back up in time to talk to Tooth by the mural and slips when she reveals that the key to fixing literally all of his problems was under his nose the whole time. He tunes his act to the max during the tooth collection scene. He lets it slip a bit so he can be more honest with Tooth in Jamie’s bedroom but he clams back up when the Guardians come back in. He loses the act a little in front of Pitch but he holds it together enough until Sandy dies, then he drops it entirely to talk to North. He lets it down for Easter, then brings it back to face Pitch. The Guardians are disappointed in him and the act is gone and stays gone for the most part. He lapses a little at the end to tell Pitch to fuck off, but like, politely.

6. I disagree with the ending and so do a decent amount of others. I think we all agree that the ending was too quick. It didn’t resolve Jack and Pitch’s relationship at all, it kind of retconned it by saying ‘they 100% hate each other and don’t care if the other dies’ when Jack consistently displays sympathy for Pitch and Pitch clearly feels betrayed and lonely. I would stretch this further and say that the Oath was out of character. Earlier in the movie Jack was very much opposed to taking the Oath, and that was partially because of the way it was presented to him. He clearly wasn’t happy with the noise, the spotlighting, the attention etc. Jack learns over the course of the movie that being a Guardian isn’t about gaining believers, gaining power, gaining influence, hiding away and bribing people to do what you want. He learns that the Guardians have lost their way a little, gotten distracted by the requirements of their jobs and forgotten why they took their jobs in the first place. Jack is supposed to show the Guardians that it’s not about impressive presentation, and it’s not about the scale or reach of their jobs. Jack is supposed to show that it’s the little things, by spending time looking at the bigger picture they miss the point. Jack’s relationship with Jamie and the other Burgess kids highlights that sometimes it’s better to take a personal interest. If a teacher teaches a class, gives a lecture or something, they will reach a larger audience because they generalise. But some kids can’t be taught like this, a lot of kids don’t benefit from generalised teaching. So they get tutors or TA’s or the teacher helps them personally after they’ve taught the class. It would also be an interesting way to make the movie more… is multi-faith the right word? If the Guardians focussed on their kids, the kids who believed in them, then maybe they could start to notice that some of these kids have other Guardians looking out for them? But anyway, what I’m saying is that the ending kind of misses the point of Jack being detail oriented instead of big picture. Yes, he needs to take the Oath to be a Guardian, but does he have to do it with a big audience? There are Yetis, Fairies, Eggs, Elves, the Guardians and the Burgess kids. And once Jack takes the Oath they all cheer. To me this feels… contrary to what we’ve seen so far. Not only would this typically make a shy person uncomfortable, but Jack’s been invisible for 3 centuries. He’s probably overwhelmed already, a more intimate setting, or simply just more private setting, would have fit him better. Did all the Guardians have to be there? Couldn’t it have just been North and Jack and Jamie and Baby Tooth?

[stuckonstarker]

estranged

TW: Incest, Dark!Tony, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, AO3

Peter was sitting on his bed.

He could hear May and Tony arguing on the other side of his thin bedroom door.

He tried to block it out, but had little success. The vitriolic words seeped through and into his brain despite his every attempt to ignore them.

“I’m not going to sit here and watch you make excuses for the umpteenth time,” May said, “you’ve been given plenty of chances to prove yourself and every time you fuck it up.”

Tony said, desperation raw in his voice, “I am trying my absolute best. I’ve been going through so much recently-”

“Bullshit,” May hissed, “you are so full of bullshit, Tony! You could be here for Peter if you really wanted to.”

Tony sputtered, but quickly regained his footing, “You don’t understand.”

“No, I do. I do understand, Tony, this isn’t about you or how you feel or what you can or can’t do. This is about Peter,” May said.

Tony said, “I know.”

“Do you? Do you? Every word that leaves your mouth is a shit-stained lie all about you. You only care about yourself,” May yelled.

Then there’s silence for the first time since Tony had knocked on their dingy apartment door.

Peter looked up at the framed photo of him and Tony.

A burning bile rose in his throat and his eyes pooled with resolutely unshed tears. He trapped his sobs in his throat. It was a pathetic attempt to suffocate the feeling of betrayal. But he hoped that ignoring his acute emotions might make the pain go away.

But life isn’t that simple, not for Peter anyway.

He choked on his tears. He muffled small, pitiful cries into the sleeve of his oversized sweater.

He tried to lock the pain away in his chest. He hoped that by hiding his pain he’d be helping ease the strained familial relationship between him and Tony.

If Peter feigned happiness for a little while longer then possibly everything could go back to the way it was. Before all of the fighting, before everyday felt like a chore.

Was it ever happy, though?

A potent and resonant sorrow dragged him down, down, down. He kept falling down, down, down until he was deeper in the pits of despair than he ever thought possible.

Why was this happening to him? Hadn’t he been good? Hadn’t he tried his best?

Peter couldn’t tell you the last time he felt truly happy.

A tentative knock pulled Peter from his thoughts. He looked up and he knew it was Tony.

“Yeah?” He called out. His voice cracked under the weight of his sobs.

The door slowly opened and revealed Tony. He looked worn out; dark bags under his charcoal eyes, fine lines carving his olive skin, and a permanently furrowed brow.

Peter felt bad for him.

“Hey, kid,” Tony said as he smiled solemnly.

Peter stared at his hands, “Hi.”

He risked a glance at Tony. 

Tony’s eyes were trained on him. Peter watched as regret pooled into the older man’s dark eyes. He felt like he was being pinned down by Tony’s stare.

Peter snapped his head down to stare at his hands again.

Tony sighed and began, “I’m sorry.”

“You always say that,” Peter said softly.

Tony said, “I know. I mean it every time.”

“If you meant it you wouldn’t have to keep repeating it,” Peter said.

He was close to choking on his words. Every syllable was a chore to get out and breathing felt like an impossible task. His chest clenched tightly. The pain was almost unbearable. It would’ve been too, if he hadn’t been used to this already.

Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just be happy? Why was he so upset at his father’s visit? Why is he acting so ungrateful?

Is he broken?

Tony sat next to Peter who nearly flinched from the older man’s touch.

Peter couldn’t control the way his entire body went tense, nor could he contain the trembles that ran through him entirely unbidden.

Peter shook his head and asked, “Why do you keep coming back?”

His voice was weak and stray tears fell from his honey eyes. He looked up into Tony’s eyes.

Tony stared back at him, a pained expression painted on his face, and he grabbed Peter’s delicate hands into his own.

“Because I love you, Petey,” Tony said, “you know that.”

Peter laughed humorlessly, “You really don’t.”

“I really do,” Tony said, “and I hurt too. I do care about you and I do want to see you.”

Peter paused and sniffled. He was a moment away from breaking down entirely.

Tony continued, “I know you have no reason to trust me and I know I haven’t been a good father in the past. It’s my fault. I am going to change, but I need you, Petey. I can’t do this without you, baby, you know how much you mean to me.”

Peter asked, “Really?”

“Really,” Tony said as he nodded.

Peter asked, “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Tony said.

Peter asked, “You’re really going to be here this time? You mean it?”

“Yes, baby,” Tony said, “I’m getting better. Just give me one more try.”

A vile feeling rose in Peter’s stomach all the way to his throat. A thick, malicious bile took him over. It was a passionate rage. His father had betrayed his trust one too many times.

“You always say one more and then you fuck it up like always,” Peter said, “just admit it already, Tony, you don’t love me. You have never loved me, not for a moment. You only cared about how useful I was to you.”

He was flustered from his rancor. He felt hot all over and adrenaline sent a stinging feeling through him.

The silence following was loud.

Tony said, “You don’t know how much I love you. How much I care about you. I’m always thinking about you, my baby.”

Peter’s face twitched. 

His mind flooded with all the previous times Tony had said that same exact thing. All those other times where Tony had promised things would be different. And, yet, every time Peter found himself being abandoned by Tony.

He sneered, full of ire and anguish, “I don’t care.”

“You do,” Tony said, “I know you, Petey, I know how much you care.”

Peter said, “How would you know shit about me? You’re never fucking around, asshole.”

“I will be if you give me one more chance,” Tony said, his voice sounded broken and begging, “just one more chance.”

“You don’t deserve it,” Peter said.

Tony nodded, “I know, baby, please.”

A sickly feeling that burned rose in Peter’s throat. He whimpered and broke down into helpless tears as he failed to contain the constricting, tight sorrow filling his heart.

Tony reached out to pull Peter in for a hug and Peter accepted the affection.

He sobbed haplessly into his father’s protective hold.

Peter said through sniffles, “You always promise. You always say you’ll try and that you’ll be there, but you never are. Not until you want something from me, not until you want to use me.”

Tony said, “I do love you, honey, I do. I do. You’re my hope, you’re the reason I do what I do. I care about you so much. You couldn’t possibly know how much I love you, baby.”

Silence flooded the room and drowned Peter. He felt like he was dying. The world around him faded away until the only thing left was Tony.

“I’ll call you every day, hang out with you on the weekends, I’ll go to those PTA meetings or whatever. I will do whatever you want me to. Whatever you need me to do to prove to you that I care,” Tony said, his voice raw with sincerity.

Peter’s pillars of skepticism buckled under the weight of Tony’s empty reassurances. Those lies dressed up as pretty promises felt much better than the sickening truth. They eased the storm in Peter’s stomach.

Peter looked up at Tony, into those deceptively kind eyes.

Tony was a drug and Peter couldn’t help that he was an addict. Peter wasn’t strong enough to hold up his guard. He couldn’t bear to face the disgusting reality that surrounded him.

“I…” He trailed off.

Tony looked at him with hopeful light reflecting in his charcoal eyes.

Peter sighed, “I guess we can try one more time.”

“Thank you, baby,” Tony said as he smiled, “I know I don’t deserve it, but I swear that this time will be different.”

Peter nodded, “Okay.”

Despite his reservations, a small spark of hope ignited in his chest. He wanted, so strongly, to finally have a stable father figure in his life. He had yearned for it for years. Tony had offered to be there plenty of times only to disappear once he had collected what he wanted but, somehow, Peter truly believed that this time could be different.

That he could actually have what he’s wanted for so long. A family. A father who doesn’t abandon him.

“Let’s go tell your aunt the great news,” Tony said with a borderline smug smile on his face.

Peter simply rolled his eyes and complied as he so often did with Tony.

They entered the living room together. Tony’s hand rested firmly on Peter’s lower back as he held his son in a nearly painful grip.

May looked at them both, her eyes sharpening to daggers as she eyed Tony.

“He said he wanted to give me another chance,” Tony said.

May waved her hand at Tony dismissively.

She asked, “Peter, are you sure you want this?”

Peter went to answer but his words got stuck in a gasp as his father’s hold on him tightened substantially. It felt somewhat like a threat.

“Yeah,” Peter said after a short moment.

May paused and looked around, almost at a loss for words.

She sighed and said, “Alright, but-”

“I know,” Peter said.

Of course he knew, he was basically living in Groundhog Day. May would reassure him that if he didn’t want to see Tony then all he had to do was tell her and she would take care of it. Peter would reassure her that everything was fine - when it wasn’t - and then him and Tony would be on their way.

It’s bittersweet in its familiarity.

May sighed and offered a pitying smile.

“I need to go,” She said, “I got a call from my boss and one of the new workers just bailed so I gotta be there. I can drop you off at Ned’s if you want.”

Peter shook his head, “I’ll be fine, May.”

“Are you sure? Because-”

Tony smiled, “The kid said he’s fine, May, relax.”

The easy air quickly turned taut and tense when Tony spoke. Though, he seemed rather unaffected by it. He simply ignored the icy glare May was sending his way.

“I can’t relax when you’re around,” May said, “you destroy everything you come into contact with.”

Tony said, “Well, I’m buddies with Petey right here and he’s pretty intact.”

Peter had to stop himself from disagreeing with that sentiment. He was beyond broken. He was a million little pieces of broken glass scattered across the floor. Or, at the very least, that’s how he felt.

Despite that, he allowed himself to crack a smile while Tony playfully nudged him

May exhaled heavily as she said, “Fine, but give me a call if you need something.”

“Of course,” Peter agreed.

She left and the safety Peter felt followed her out the door.

Peter pulled himself from Tony’s hold. Tony was never particularly fond of when Peter would do that. Tony had always been a very tactile person, almost to an overbearing extent.

For a brief moment, gone as soon as it appeared, Peter flinched from his father in fear of some sort of retribution.

But, when no punishment was delivered Peter found himself flooded with relief. He hated that feeling.

Tony sat on the couch and grabbed the remote.

“I’ll stay here. Don’t want you getting up to any funny business,” Tony said with a smile.

Peter sat down next to his father, “That’s unlike you.”

“In what sense?” Tony asked.

Peter said, “You’re not the responsible type, so either you have ulterior motives or you’ve miraculously changed overnight.”

“I can be responsible when I want to,” Tony said, “I can’t help it that being reckless is considerably more fun.”

Peter shook his head and snatched the remote from Tony’s hand, “You don’t have a responsible bone in your washed-up celebrity body.”

“Wow,” Tony laughed in shock, “the audacity… washed-up? Kid, you have no idea who you just started a war with.”

Peter smiled, “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t fight the elderly.”

“The elderly?” Tony said with exaggerated disbelief, “This is slander of the highest degree.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Peter said.

Tony shook his head with a wide smile as he sat back into the couch.

“Elderly,” He repeated fondly to himself.

“Yep,” Peter said.

He put on The Lego Movie, something about the childish and hopeful nature of it lifted his spirit. Also, he just liked Legos and animation.

He found himself getting embarrassingly invested in the plot almost immediately. He wasn’t normally self-conscious about his movie picks, but Tony’s presence heightened his self-awareness to unreasonable levels.

Then, a pillow hit him square in the face.

“If I were elderly could I do that?” Tony asked and, then, he tackled Peter and pinned him down to the couch. 

Tony pressed his fingers into Peter’s sides and tickled the poor, young man. 

Peter squeaked as everything picked up pace so suddenly.

“Stop it!” He said through his pained laughter.

He weakly pushed onto Tony in a futile attempt to get free.

“Please!” Peter begged through his unwitting laughter.

His hands pressed against Tony’s biceps and torso as he desperately tried to pry his father off of him.

Peter cried, “Stop!”

“Say you’re sorry,” Tony demanded.

Peter giggled, “Sorry! I’m sorry!”

Tony ceased. Peter inhaled several deep breaths as he gave Tony an ineffective glare.

“Aw,” Tony said with a fake pout, “you’re not mad at me, are you?”

Peter scrunched up his nose, “I’m not gonna be friends with a tickle monster.”

“Not even if I say that I’m sorry?” Tony smiled.

Peter said, “I think you’ve said sorry enough for one day.”

Tony laughed.

The room was dim save for the warm glow of a lamp in the corner of the room. The air felt still and everything seemed to freeze. There was a nostalgic summer warmth blooming within Peter’s chest.

Tony smiled, “You are so beautiful, baby.”

“Thank you,” Peter said.

He squirmed under Tony’s gaze. He felt like an insect being examined under a microscope.

Tony leaned into Peter. They were only a breath away. Peter paused as he resisted the urge to pull away.

“Tony,” Peter said as his eyes darted from Tony’s lips to his eyes.

Tony nodded, “Yes, honey?”

“You said this time would be different,” Peter whispered.

Tony said, “It is, Petey.”

“How?” Peter asked,

Tony said, voice soft and promising, “Just trust me. You’ll see.”

Peter nodded.

Tony leaned in and closed the gap between them. Their lips connected and locked together.

Peter accepted the kiss with trembling lips as his hands wrapped around Tony’s neck. Tony’s hands felt up Peter’s hips and lower back.

The kiss itself started off slowly. It felt more like a test than anything. As if Tony was afraid that even the slightest rough movement would scare Peter away.

Quickly enough though, the fires of passion devoured them both. Their lips clashed and fought with an ardent desire. It was a struggle for dominance, one that Tony would inevitably win. 

Peter moaned into the kiss and Tony nipped his lip in response.

Peter parted his lips easily and he allowed Tony to invade his mouth. The older man tasted like a vile mix of whiskey and coffee, but Peter couldn’t think of anything better.

Their lips moved together in a greedy grab for power. Tony’s tongue swiped across Peter’s. It made the younger man mewl as a pleasant feeling zapped him.

Peter’s hands travelled up to Tony’s soft, ash colored hair. Tony groaned in appreciation and deepened the kiss. It left Peter breathless.

Tony pushed Peter back against the armrest of the sofa as he pressed warm, wet kisses up and down Peter’s neck and jaw. His hands slipped underneath the loose science pun sweater Peter wore and groped his sensitive skin.

Peter gasped and shivered.

It all felt very overwhelming. Alarms were going off in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to shut them off.

“Please, Tony,” Peter said, though he wasn’t sure what he wanted.

Tony smiled against Peter’s skin. It sent waves of want rolling through him and left him mewling for more.

It was so good and, yet, he wanted to vomit.

Tony only loved him when it was beneficial, otherwise the older man didn’t speak two words to him. That’s the way it’s been and probably always will be. Peter would simply have to make do with that.

He muffled his moans while Tony kissed and licked his delicate skin. His body had always been so sensitive and Tony knew how to take advantage of that.

“Let’s get this stuffy thing off of you, yeah?” Tony urged with a slight growl to his voice as he tugged at the hem of Peter’s sweater.

Peter nodded and helped Tony tug off the shirt. It was quickly discarded to the floor without a second thought.

Sex is the only way Tony could ever love him. Only in the dead of night when arousal burns away their inhibitions. It wasn’t fair, but it was what Peter had to do in order to keep his father in his life.

Peter huffed at his own thoughts.

He pulled Tony down into another kiss. This time Peter was in the lead and he kept it slow and romantic. Their lips danced together and his tongue swiped curiously on the roof of Tony’s mouth which made the older man laugh mutedly.

Peter’s fingers ran through Tony’s hair once more, he had always been fascinated with Tony’s  hair.

Tony slowly pulled away, giving Peter a chance to tug him back in if he really wanted to.

They looked at each other for a moment.

“I’ll take care of you,” Tony said.

And Peter believed him. 

Peter laid down against the couch cushions and he closed his eyes. Tony hovered over Peter’s bare torso and glanced down to where Peter was still wearing jeans.

Tony took off Peter’s pants in an animalistic haste. He stared hard at Peter’s beautiful, spotless skin.

“God,” Tony said, “I want to ruin you, baby.”

You already have.

Tony pressed a soft kiss right below Peter’s belly button.

Peter gasped and his hips bucked up on their own accord. Tony laughed against his skin which only made him shiver and shake more.

“My sensitive baby,” Tony said, voice husky and hot on Peter’s stomach.

Peter bit his lip in a weak attempt to contain his moans.

Tony then dragged his wet, warm tongue along the ivory skin of Peter’s stomach. It sent lightning through Peter’s nervous system, he was already going into overdrive.

“Please,” Peter said.

Tony continued pressing gentle kisses to Peter’s body. Each kiss, each movement of Tony’s wet mouth, sent soft waves of want rolling throughout Peter.

Peter whimpered and squirmed despite himself. But he couldn’t move much as Tony’s calloused hands held his hips down. Tony pressed featherlight kisses against his lower abdomen and it made him dreadfully lightheaded.

Peter gasped, “Please.”

“You’re so sweet when you’re like this,” Tony whispered. His hot breath ghosted over Peter’s skin.

Peter held onto one of Tony’s biceps, a fragile attempt to ground himself in the endless nothingness. One of Tony’s skilled fingers traced the elastic band of Peter’s boxers. One finger, nimble and mean, slipped under the elastic and snapped it against Peter’s skin.

Peter yelped despite it being painless.

“Don’t be a baby,” Tony said.

Peter pouted, “I thought I was your baby.”

“Mm,” Tony said, “I suppose you make a good point.”

Peter smiled through the darkness.

Tony then took to tugging off Peter’s pretty little boxers. They were of the childish sort, which was almost enough to provoke sympathy in the older man.

Peter shifted awkwardly along with Tony and eventually his boxers were discarded along with his sweater and jeans. The cold air hit his bare skin and sent ice running through his veins. Tony, though, was like a heater by nature.

And it wasn’t long before the room started to fill with the unbearable heat of arousal and sex.

Tony asked, voice throaty, “Do you want me, baby?”

“Yes,” Peter said breathlessly, “I want you so bad.”

Tony smiled, “I want you too.”

Peter ignored the sickness that swelled up within his stomach. However, he couldn't ignore the static like buzzing that filled his ears.

Tony's hands traced the creamy skin of Peter's thighs. A molten pool of want burned within him.

Peter's own dick was flushed at the tip and hard from all of Tony's precise attentions. It was considerably smaller than Tony's, though, and that's something the older man took great joy pointing out.

“You’re so adorable,” Tony said. There was a distinct teasing in his tone.

Peter couldn’t be bothered to point it out.

Tony said, “Be a good boy for me and spread your legs.”

Peter obeyed dutifully. His legs fell open as if it was simply second nature to him.

“So good for me,” Tony praised.

Tony’s praise never failed to illuminate a fierce warmth within Peter’s cold chest.

Peter trembled. He was so vulnerable, so exposed. He felt like he should’ve been more used to that feeling.

Tony smiled and adjusted Peter so that he was almost folded in half. Peter panted, breathing suddenly becoming a labored task. His body ached slightly, but it only increased his arousal - much to his humiliation.

The position provided Tony a clear view of Peter's tight, pink hole. Tony had once referred to Peter's asshole as pretty. Peter was sure he could never be more embarrassed. 

He jolted and gasped when a slick finger pressed against him.

Peter's legs spread wider without a second thought, though. His mouth, similarly, moved on its own accord as he thoughtlessly said, "You scare me."

The words were muffled and quiet from his position, but Tony, ever observant, picked up on them anyways.

“I know, baby,” Tony said, “I’m sorry.”

Peter shut his eyes tight, “Don’t say that. Stop saying that, please.”

He hated how exposed he was. Hated how vulnerable he was. Hated everything about this situation. But he wouldn’t change it for the world. 

Admittledy, Peter would rather have this than the neverending loneliness he was so used to.

“I love you so much,” Tony said.

Peter tried to suffocate and kill the relief those words gave him.

Tony said, his words as predatory as his smile, "My pretty little cocksleeve. You're so perfect. I trained you to take this cock good, huh?"

Peter knew he wasn’t meant to answer that question. His answer wouldn’t matter to Tony anyways.

Two of Tony's slippery fingers breached Peter's entrance. He inhaled a sharp breath and his grip on the couch cushions tightened. It wasn’t an entirely foreign feeling, though it still felt somewhat alien even after all this time. Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever be used to it.

“Tony,” Peter whispered.

Tony smiled, “What do you need, baby?”

“I don’t-” Peter’s voice cracked off into an aborted moan as Tony’s fingers curled and twisted within his sweet insides.

Tony said, “I bet you can’t wait to get my cock inside you.”

Peter moaned and grabbed onto the side of the couch for support. A sharp spike of pleasure went straight down his spine and made him jolt into Tony’s touch - or away from it, Peter wasn’t sure.

“Huh, baby?” Tony urged, “Tell Daddy what you need.”

Peter whined, but no words dared leave his mouth.

Tony said, “Baby, Daddy can’t give you what you need if you don’t tell him.”

“I need you to…” Peter said in between pathetic mewls, “stop referring to yourself in the third person. You sound like an ah-!”

Tony fucked his fingers into Peter particularly hard and Peter’s words were choked off into a high-pitched, desperate whine.

Tony smiled, “What was that, darling? I didn’t quite catch it the first time.”

Peter decided it best not to repeat himself to which Tony gave him a dark, approving smile.

The fingers scissored Peter open. Pain was burning faintly on the edges of his vision. A sensual arousal stirred deep within his very core. 

“God,” Peter said with a strained voice, “please.”

Tony said, “God isn’t here to help you now, baby.”

The fingers within Peter invaded his body and tortured him with the featherlight pleasure and candlewick pain. His body demanded more, more, more, despite being at it’s brink already.

Tony - an expert in many things, sex being almost at the very top of that list - knew exactly how to twist and cross and hook his fingers within Peter to stretch the younger man out.

Tony's rough fingertips felt so perfect running along the raw, sensitive walls of Peter's insides.

He gasped and twitched with every slight movement Tony made.

His head fell back as he relished in the brief, dismal bliss of being fingered by his father.

Tony muttered, purposefully loud enough that Peter could hear it, “Whore.”

Peter didn’t mind. He couldn’t really. What other word suited a son who gladly took the fingers and cock of his own father?

It felt as if an eternity had passed when Tony pulled his fingers out of Peter. He watched with heavy eyes as Peter's tight hole fluttered from the sudden emptiness.

“What do you say, baby, are you ready to take Daddy’s cock?” Tony asked with a vague sort of taunt to his words.

Peter simply smiled as he nodded, though he felt as if he might have been dying.

Tony pressed a gentle, soothing hand to Peter's face and then began raking his fingers through his son's wavy brown locks.

"My good boy," Tony praised, "my sweet little boy."

Peter's eyes closed as he melted into the touch. He lost himself.

Tony said, "When I'm done with you no one will ever question who you belong to again."

Peter didn't have time to question those words.

The blunt head of Tony's thick cock poked at Peter's prepared hole. Tony's cock had always been a magnificent thing.

To Peter it was, anyway.

It was girthy - Peter could just barely wrap his hand around it - and it was long as well. The tip was often flushed a bright red when aroused. Not to mention the bush of black pubic hair that rested at the base. 

Peter gulped and flinched as his father's cock threatened to enter him. 

“Calm down, sweetheart,” Tony said, “you know Daddy will take care of you.”

The words made something instinctual within Peter recoil, but he didn’t dare move from Tony’s touch. 

A bright ache began burning in Peter's legs and back due to the position he was in. Tony didn't seem to notice his discomfort. Though even if he did notice he wouldn't care.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” Tony said, “you’re gonna be begging for it, bitch.”

He then pushed the tip of his heady cock into Peter's body. Peter gasped through a half-hearted protest and, soon enough, all reasonable thought left him. 

In an instant the only thing Peter could process was the fiery feeling within him. Despite being thoroughly fingered and prepped Tony's cock still strained against his tight walls.

Tony sunk deeper and deeper within Peter's taut, presented ass.

Peter felt like he was being torn in half. Like his body was being pried open. He loved it.  

It burned. Lust fogged his mind and his vision blurred. Every ounce of rationality fully fled him.

“Please,” Peter managed to choke out with a strained voice.

Tony groaned and Peter, with what sight he had left, could see that his face was scrunched up in pleasure. As if the feeling of sinking his cock into Peter was so intensely euphoric that it was painful to resist slamming into him.

Tony's eyes opened and his pupils were dilated so wide that the blackness nearly eclipsed the whiskey brown of his eyes.

He sunk his dick deeper and deeper into the warmth of Peter's twink ass.

Peter gasped. He could feel every single inch pushing deeper inside of him. It left him breathless and light-headed.

He held his own legs up and open while still being basically folded in half. It made his muscles burn and the mind-numbing pleasure of Tony's unbearable cock only served to make the experience that much more overpowering.

Tears began pooling in his eyes and he prayed to God that Tony wouldn't notice.

“Oh,” Tony growled out, “my sweet baby's crying. Is my cock too much for you, darling?”

Peter couldn’t think.

Tony reached his hilt inside of Peter. It was the younger man's breaking point.

He felt like he was on fire and his mind filled with smoke. Every single thick inch throbbed within Peter's body. He could feel it and it made him feral.

“Fu-ck me, Daddy-!” Peter yelped out and Tony pulled out and thrust back into him.

Tony said, “You want me to fuck you, baby? How bad? Huh, baby, how bad? Beg for it if you’re that desperate.”

“Fuck me, please. Please, please, please. I’ll do anything, daddy, just fuck me. Please, I need it, please,” Peter blabbered as his dignity left him easily.

If he were stronger he’d at least have the decency to be ashamed for falling prey to such sexual deviancy.

Peter continued, “Please, please! I need you to fuck me. Please! I love your cock. I need it. Plea-!”

Tony’s cock slammed into him and everything went blank for a beautifully blissful moment.

Peter's entire world turned into a blindingly bright white. 

Tony began fucking into him and picked up pace nearly immediately. His cock assaulted the deepest parts of Peter over and over until the poor boy was gasping for air.

The thrusts were rhythmic and precise. Tony just kept hitting the most fragile spots within Peter and it felt as if it was never going to end. Like Tony’s cock would never let up its brutal pummeling of his prostate.

Peter was light-headed and weak and Tony took his legs over his shoulders. It would’ve made Peter smile if he had been aware enough to recognize the gesture.

Instead, he was too cock drunk to even think of his own name.

He felt like he was being burned alive. Air heaved into his lungs as Tony continued to fuck him with little remorse.

Peter moaned out, “God! Yes!”

His head fell back and he allowed his eyes to clench shut and uncross when they opened. The mass amounts of pleasure too much for him to reasonably bear.

“Give it to me!” Peter heaved out.

Tony’s thrusts grew brutal as he fucked Peter into the couch. Peter only gasped and yelped. He struggled to keep up with the deep, intrusive plunges of Tony’s massive manhood.

How could anyone ever resist this?

Peter’s body twitched and spasmed on its own accord as he thoughtlessly fucked back into the neverending pleasure of Tony. There was a familiar dull burn due to the stretch of Tony’s prick.

Tony had always been unfairly large.

Peter could feel every single long, thick, unyielding inch of Tony’s perfect cock. It stretched him open wide and fucked him into submission. Peter could hardly think or speak besides the occasional plea for more.

His grip on the couch tightened and an intense ache formed deep within his very core. His cock ached so much and he could feel his orgasm building up. It was a tight pressure that seemed to just keep going.

Every thrust sent Peter lurching forward and spiraling into another endless pit of sinful pleasure. His vision was filled with spots of white and his voice was hoarse from his slutty moans and pleas.

Tony’s cock slammed right into that perfect spot repeatedly. So hard, so fast, that Peter thought he might actually die from it.

Peter’s back arched in a pitiful attempt to obtain as much pleasure as possible. He was a greedy bitch chasing his climax. It just kept getting hotter and hotter and he couldn’t possibly think about anything other than cumming on Tony’s thick, hard cock.

“The only time your dad likes you is when he’s balls deep inside of you,” Tony hissed next to Peter’s ear.

Peter couldn’t respond. He could only moan helplessly as he was pinned down and fucked into the couch.

“Dumb cockslut,” Tony growled.

Peter nodded mindlessly.

His eyes crossed and his mouth opened as silent moans left him.

He was wrecked and weak and all he could do was whimper on Tony’s thick cock. His entire body was aflame with pleasure. He couldn’t think past Tony’s long cock slamming in and out of him, fucking him into endless oblivion.

He gasped, “Yes, please-!”

“You close, bitch?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded frantically.

He could feel it. The white-hot pleasure building like tidal waves within him. It tightened within him and nearly took him over. 

The pressure within him kept getting tighter and tighter. He couldn't handle it. He let out a series of desperate pleas and cried as he clawed at the cushions.

Tony continued to fuck ruthlessly into him. Over and over again the older man kept slamming into his prostate. It was all too much. Too much. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Peter moaned, his voice entirely cracked, entirely wrecked.

Tony groaned, “Yeah, my dumb little slut’s going to cum on my cock, huh?”

Peter's eyes clenched shut and pathetic noises left his cherry stained lips. Everything burned so goddamn good. He couldn't fucking think.

His entire body spasmed and tightened around Tony's cock, as if he was trying to pull the thick appendage deeper within him. Desperate, broken moans were torn from Peter's sore throat. His mind was wiped black from the pleasure as white cum painted his flat stomach.

He had cum so hard he feared he'd never breathe properly again.

It certainly didn’t help that Tony continued to fuck Peter’s wrecked body. His thrusts devolved into something animalistic as he chased his own finish.

The slap of skin against skin got louder, lewder, meaner.

Peter only gasped and mewled. He was entirely at the mercy of the malevolent man above him. 

His head tossed back and forth and he swam around in the endless pleasure. It was never ending and brutal and he begged for it to end.

Tony's brutal fucking slowed and and slammed into Peter a couple more times before a flood of sticky, warm cum filled him.

There was a brief moment of peaceful silence as they both basked in the afterglow of their orgasms. Everything was perfectly still for a moment. Despite the uncomfortable stickiness and the unbearable humidity Peter found himself wishing they could be like this all the time.

Their breaths melded together. Tony's fingers lightly traced intricate patterns into Peter's delicate skin. 

“I’ll get us cleaned up, baby,” Tony said after a moment, his voice similarly wrecked.

Peter didn’t even have the strength to nod this time.

*

May walked into her apartment and was briefly taken aback by the domestic sight that greeted her.

Peter and Tony were watching a movie. Tony’s arm was wrapped around Peter while Peter leaned into his warmth.

Both of them looked up at May’s presence.

She looked worn out. Her hair stuck out of place and dark bags shadowed under her hollow eyes.

“Peter and I had a great time while you were working. Not to rub it in or anything,” Tony said with a smile.

Peter nodded with a weak smile, “Yeah.”

“You look like a trainwreck,” Tony said, “no offense.”

May glared at him hard and went to say something before Tony cut her off.

“Let me take Peter for the weekend,” He said, “so you can have some ‘you’ time.”

May said, “Peter isn’t my issue.”

“Of course, but wouldn’t it be nice to have the apartment to yourself for two days?” Tony prodded, “And, besides, me and Peter need to catch up. We haven’t spoken in a month or so.”

“Three,” Peter said.

Tony looked at him inquisitively, “Hm?”

“Three months,” Peter said.

Tony nodded, “Ah, three months.”

“Peter,” May said, “do you want to spend the weekend with Tony?”

Peter paused and felt a familiar tension building in his chest. Tony’s grip on Peter tightened slightly and Peter swore he heard him growl.

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” May asked.

Peter said, “I am one-hundred percent sure.”

“Alright,” She conceded.

Tony smiled and stood.

He towered over Peter and casted a heavy shadow over him.

“Go pack your stuff, kid,” Tony said, “I have a feeling your Aunt might want to set some ground rules.”

Peter nodded and scurried off to pack his clothes and toiletries, though he probably wouldn’t be needing them as Tony already had that stuff back at the Tower. Tony much preferred it when Peter used the stuff provided for him instead of bringing his own supplies.

Peter could still hear their talking through his flimsy bedroom door.

“If he comes back here with so much as a scratch on his head, Stark, I swear to God I’ll-” May said.

Tony interjected, “Yeah, yeah, May. He’ll be taken care of.”

“By a hired assistant or something?” May asked with vitriol in her voice.

Tony scoffed, “I get that you hate my guts but have a little faith. It wouldn’t be some assistant, it would be Happy.”

There was silence.

“What?” Tony asked, “It was funny.”

“I don’t think so,” May said.

Peter sighed as he zipped up his backpack and walked into the living room.

Instantly, May put up a polite front as if her and Tony were on perfectly good terms. And Tony still had a cocky smile plastered on his face.

“Ready to go already, kiddo?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded.

He walked over to May and Tony. May kissed him goodbye while Tony was already leaving.

“Call me if you change your mind,” May whispered.

Peter gave her a reassuring smile, “I will.”

He had to run to catch up to Tony. He huffed as he got into the black car. It wasn’t the older man’s usual flashy style. Peter was relieved for that small mercy at least.

“Could you stop provoking my Aunt?” Peter asked as he buckled in.

Tony said, “I didn’t know I was doing anything of the sort.”

“Can’t you afford personal drivers?” Peter asked.

Tony said, “I can.”

“Why don’t you?”

Tony gave him a brief look, “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I have to,” Peter said, “considering I don’t get to speak to you often.”

Tony made a noise but didn’t acknowledge that comment further.

Peter asked, after a moment of silence, “So, why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I what?”

Peter sighed, “Why don’t you hire drivers?”

“I only trust myself to drive. Every driver I’ve had is incompetent,” Tony said.

Peter said, “Happy?”

“He’s a friend who I gave a job. If you’ve been paying attention you would have noticed that motherfucker doesn’t touch the steering wheel when I’m in the car,” Tony said.

Peter shook his head, “You’re such a dick.”

“Yep, but why exactly in this moment do you say that?” Tony asked.

Peter said, “It’s obvious in everything you say and do that the only thing you care about is yourself. And, you don’t respect anybody else beyond that. It’s like you see everyone else as stepping stones to get ahead. It’s sick.”

“Sicker than taking your Dad’s cock like a whore?” Tony asked.

His face was entirely straight as he said that. How he could say something so vulgar entirely stoically was a mystery to poor Peter Parker.

Peter felt a sickly bile rise in his throat again. He couldn’t find it within himself to speak.

Tony said, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Fuck you,” Peter spat.

Tony laughed, “You are always so quick to bark, but do you have any bite?”

Peter glared at Tony, but Tony didn’t even spare him a glance.

“See?” Tony said, “Even now, you’re too afraid to say anything.”

Peter sneered, “I am not afraid.”

“Then why don’t you ever say what you want to say, Petey?” Tony asked, though the question seemed rhetorical in a taunting way.

Peter paused.

He said, “I guess I’m just a better person than you.”

Tony smiled, “You won’t be for long, sweetheart.”

Peter’s throat burned as he forced his tears down. He refused to give Tony the satisfaction of making him cry.

Dear God, what did I do to deserve this?

“Could you just fucking stop being an asshole for one moment?” Peter hissed as his voice cracked.

Tony said, “I thought you wanted some quality time with me? I can turn this car around if you can’t handle it.”

“You know you’re being a piece of shit - and that’s the worst part! - you could be better if you tried, but you refuse,” Peter said.

Tony said, “I am exactly who I need to be, baby, I have an empire and you live in some ratty ass apartment.”

“At least I’m not a predator,” Peter muttered.

Tony laughed, “Predator? Are you kidding me, kid? You were literally fucking begging for it.”

Peter choked and tears began streaming down his face. He couldn’t stop it. It burned so bad. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted it to go back to the naive, blissful childhood he used to have.

“That’ll hold up real good in court, honey,” Tony taunted and then mimicked Peter, “I cried for my dad’s cock but got upset when he gave it to me.”

Peter sniffled weakly and pawed at the tears rolling down his face.

Tony smiled, “The only person who would believe you is May, but it’s not like it’d be hard to get rid of her if I needed to.”

Peter whimpered. He resisted the urge to jump out of the car. He fought back every inch of sorrow within him.

“Do you want that?” Tony said, “Do you want me to kill May because you were such a filthy whore you made me fuck you, huh?”

Peter cried, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Tony said, “Do you want me to stop telling you the truth?”

Peter shook his head. He couldn’t stop crying. His heart hammered away in his chest. There was an unpleasant buzzing in his ears. He was alone.

Peter whimpered, “Please stop, Tony, you’re scaring me.”

Tony complied.

The rest of the drive to the tower was silent.

Peter scurried away as soon as he had gotten the chance. There was a room set up for him, still exactly the same as he left it three months ago.

Peter knew he wouldn’t be able to hide for long. He was on Tony’s turf. He was only able to lock himself in his room because Tony allowed it.

His legs and body were filled with exhaustion from the day’s earlier events. His entire body reeled as he recalled what happened. He felt like he was going to vomit.

He decided to hide under the covers and curl up into a small ball instead. He cried until he fell asleep.