#eventual starker

[idk-bruh-20]

(I'm not back sorry y'all, just saw we were due for a reminder)

[peterstrk]

Everything can be starker.

Peter is a poet he moved into a little city with close knitted community. Soon enough he got infatuated by a local mechanic Tony who although divorced kept a close relationship with his wife.

Something sparked between them once their eyes met Peter was sure. After a month “this” gets posted on an infamous local paper magazine.

Was it that I was curious or was it that you were so tempting my love?

I knew that I was stepping closer and closer into a beautiful alluring trap

That all your irresistible suggestive smiles around your peachy red lips, I could not take my eyes off, paved the way to my inevitable collision.

Yes darling, I know your interest is purely sensual and only temporal. But gods am I seduced by you and your gaze that gives promises of the most painfully sweet deaths.

’’La petite morte ma chérie’’

Oh , and only if you knew how blessed I am to be in your presence, but we both know how cursed I am to be imminently left by you once you deem you have had enough of me.

They will say I am fool,

and yes I am but all for you ,oh, not so mine ,

I would be the foolish slave and the softest master, all and anyone you wish.

I know my heart will throb and left all torn, but whatever one will do for love my darling?

We both know the destination is not heavens but who on earth said I cannot enjoy the sinful ride?

Our bodies dance the old as ever dance of lust and sin, gentle touches and playful glimpses that lead to kisses in a hurry, all teeth and passion never a glimpse of love.

Love is too pure and light to be compared to what we have, the seething infatuation that borderlines with loathing affections.

We hurt each other all so good, but it’s okay who doesn’t like a little pain?

I will forgive but not forget all heated encounters in the dim lit corners that left us messy and aroused.

You bite your lips and look at them but not at me and though I knew I was the spare it tears my heart a little mere.

And yes I’m sure the next encounter you will giggle a little and say the green is not my color, so I would leave wearing your scarf to hide the love marks on my collar.

Once again I would forgive and know my place that is on the knees near you my flower…

But the mere desire to be the one for you won’t ever leave me I aspire

I know it’s foolish but ‘til you banish me my lovely, the hope will burn within my soul to once forever become your lover.

The rumors spread across faster than fire it is all everyone can talk about. Everyone can only wonder who is it for but only one person knew for certain that it addressed him.

[spider-mancan]

Sensory Integration

Peter is going through a breakup, which — that's rough, buddy. Even worse? He's got a little...spider problem.

Mr. Stark has always said he'll help Peter with anything he needs, but when what he needs is to be fucked within an inch of his life? Peter can't rely on Mr. Stark for that.

A hand job in the lab, though? With a mentor like Tony Stark, no one ever said Peter has good ideas.

READ ON AO3

[kageyama-taka]

Me casually dancing my fingers along as I write a Starker fic without actually having watched any movies predating Inf War :3

[puddleorganism]

I need everybody to consider: cetacean Gem

Because she’s usually headcanoned as a deer, and whales are essentially aquatic deer (not really, but we can pretend lol)

Bonus stuff under the cut

I considered like 20 different cetaceans, and eventually narrowed it down to Risso’s dolphin (left), orca (top right), and sperm whale (bottom right). I chose Risso’s dolphin because I really liked the gradient + scars. I think it looks nice, and also the scars make her look like a grizzled sea captain lol. I think the other two could fit her equally well though, maybe even better in the sperm whale’s case.

(Also, that’s not just her! Risso’s dolphins are usually heavily scarred, and the scars are actually an even starker white irl than I’ve drawn them.)

Bonus design note: pakicetus is considered the most basal form of whale/cetacean. Gem’s feet are based off of them (loosely) because they’re basically just a quadrupedal whale.

[babybatscreationsv2]

Peter's First Kiss

Marvel | Starker

When Peter is outed at a party by one of his classmates, Tony swoops in to save his boyfriend from public humiliation.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: forced outing, public embarrassment

"Peter's gay?" One of his classmates exclaimed. Peter shrunk in on himself on reflex. Even Ned stopped mid sentence and he looked around. His class wasn't known for being homophobic, but he wasn't exactly looking for yet another reason to get bullied. Peter grabbed his arm and slowly began to pull Ned away from the source of the exclamation. They made it two steps.

"Hey, Peter!" Betty reached them. She caught Peter's arm to stop his escape. "You're gay? Someone said you were gay."

"Uh..." Peter froze. A thousand denials tangled around in his brain.

"No! What?" Ned said, but his nervous stuttering was unconvincing. Betty looked between the two of them. In fact, the whole room was looking at them.

"Well..." Peter looked at his friend in panic. Ned gave him nothing more than a concerned look and a shrug. "I am. Yeah. I mean, I guess so."

"Really? That's totally cool," Betty said. "I mean I don't think it's a problem or anything. Actually, Eddie's gay, too! Sorta. He's bi. You guys should talk!"

Betty dragged him across the room. The crowd settled as the drama of the moment passed. The lack of bloodshed not enough to hold teenage attention.

Eddie Brock leaned against the wall, chatting with some friends, and sipping something from a plastic cup. Betty pulled Peter into the group as she inserted herself in the center. Peter looked over his shoulder to see Ned watching awkwardly a few feet away.

"Hey, Eddie!" Betty greeted.

Eddie looked at each of them. Amusement painted his face. "What's up, Betty?"

"Peter's gay."

"Oh, really?" His amused look turned to a smirk. His eyes twinkled. Peter tried not to look as horrified as he felt. "Thanks for the update, guys."

Betty looked at Peter, then again at Eddie. She bounced on her heels. "You guys should talk."

"About what, Bet?" Eddie took a sip from his cup.

She looked baffled. "He's gay. You're bi. You guys could totally date."

Eddie laughed. "I'm okay, thanks. No offense, Parker."

Peter shook his head "No, that's fine..." He looked around for an escape route, but he was sure Betty would chase after him again. He prayed for Ned to go set off a smoke detector or something.

"But Peter needs help. He's gay and he's never even kissed someone before," Betty insisted. She sighed sadly. "It's really sad how so many gay people grow up to be thirty and they've never even been kissed."

"Whoa, I have so kissed someone!" Peter argued. "You've literally seen me kiss Liz."

"That was before you knew you were gay." Betty rolled her eyes. "It doesn't count. You're a whole new you now. This is your becoming, Peter."

The way she thought she was helping was growing more frustrating by the minute. Peter's jaw clenched, locking in the words he didn't want to say. He wasn't one for confrontation. Especially not a public one.

"He looks alright to me," Eddie said. "I'm sure someone will take care of him and his unkissed lips eventually."

"I have kissed someone!" Peter insisted.

"Peter, it's okay. You don't have to be embarrassed," Betty said in a way that she must have thought was sympathetic. "Just because we've all kissed someone before doesn't mean you have to be so ashamed. We'll find you someone."

Peter pressed his lips together before the words could come out. He turned on the spot to make his escape only to come face to face with his boyfriend, Tony.

Familiar hands wrapped around his waist. He pulled him in close. Peter's hands slid over his chest to curl around his arms. Warm lips pressed against his own. Peter leaned into, holding back the way he wanted to moan as the tension he was holding fled. The sound of clapping and cheering came to mind slowly. Peter hesitated as he realized what everyone was cheering for. He stopped and looked at Tony as his face burned.

"Heard you'd never been kissed. I came to save the day," Tony said. His smile was huge.

"My hero." Peter shook his head, though he couldn't help but smile. He hadn't wanted to come out this way, but if everyone already knew then at least he had Tony to back him up.

"Peter had his first kiss, everybody!" Betty announced. "And it was with Tony Stark!"

Peter held in a laugh, but if Tony tried to hold back it slipped out and left them both giggling. "My first kiss," Peter said.

"And with Tony Stark," Tony said with mock awe.

"Can we leave now?" Peter whispered.

Tomy raised his eyebrows. "You sure you want that rumor going around?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "We've been dating for a year, Tony."

"Your first kiss and your first fuck all in the same day. The whole school is gonna lose their minds," Tony teased. He wrapped his arm around Peter's shoulders and led him towards the door. Everyone was staring.

"I think they already have." Peter gave Ned a grimace as they passed. He leaned into Tony as they made their escape, with Peter's face burning red and Betty's unfortunate glee following behind them.

[unsolicited-opinions]

I'd like to attempt to describe why I think we keep hearing such bizarre and biased commentary from US liberals/progressives on Israel. I'm going to go over some things that #jumblr already knows, but I want this to be accessible to anybody who is interested. I'm not trying to excuse anybody's views or comments - I'm tying to remind myself that while there's no shortage of antisemitism in these voices, there's more going on than just antisemitism.

First, I think it is important to note that these comments are coming mostly from younger folks. These folks want to be on the Right Side of History, and I love that impulse.

They want to believe that they would have protested the war in Vietnam. They want to believe that they would have marched with Martin Luther King Jr- and I love that impulse.

They have been sold a story that this is a similar instance where one side is unambiguously an aggressor and the other side is unambiguously a victim.

They believe this, I think, for a few reasons I can understand. One of these is Hamas' use of civilian shields.

Sinwar (Hamas leader), his predecessors, his allies, and his eventual successors all know they're fighting two wars simultaneously. One is the physical war against Israelis, the other is the PR war fought for the hearts and minds of decent human beings worldwide. By placing all military assets behind/underneath civilians, he ensures that every Hamas material/military loss is a PR victory. This continues to be incredibly effective, and it's not a mystery why. Even those of us who understand this tactic, even those of us who have seen it repeatedly are heartbroken to see the harm done to non-combatants. When people who don't understand this tactic see the same images and videos, they are understandably horrified and want it to stop. It looks to them like soldiers indiscriminately destroying civilian lives.

These optics are made starker by Israel's unquestionable material and military advantage. Young Americans see Israel as powerful, Hamas as weak, and want to root for the underdog, assuming that Underdog = Good Guy.

Racism in Netanyahu's government ensures that Israel loses this PR war

Israel, Israeli international media, and Israel's international allies are not effective at explaining this tactic and are not effective in expressing their shared horror. The efforts to make this case convincingly are rendered nearly impossible by the fact that Netanyahu's coalition government includes theocrats and racists with track records of dehumanizing Palestinians, Arabs, and Muslims. That's the government giving orders to the IDF. Can we really be surprised when folks in the west see a connection between anti-arab rhetoric and violence which harms Arabs?

Israel's failure to remove these people from government is a tragedy. There seems to be no shortage of Israelis who detest Netanyahu and who protested his attempts to subvert the judicary to erode minority rights and to make it harder to fight his corruption- but there are still too many Israelis voting for parties in his coalition. I say this relating to the pain that the Israelis I know feel about this. I'm similarly humiliated before the world as an American in that nearly half the US electorate is okay with Trump, a racist, a rapist, and a demented demagogue who takes great pleasure in smashing democratic norms and coarsening/corrupting political life. The Israelis I know feel similarly about Netanyahu.

If I feel like it, I may continue this later. I would like to talk about semantic drift and the misapprehensions around terms like colonialism, zionism, genocide, and ethnic cleansing.

Again, my goal here is to remind myself that despite the abundant antisemitism in the comments of many young Americans saying profoundly stupid things about Israel, they are motivated by more than just antisemitism, and that antisemitism is not their primary drive.

Understanding the roots of their views may help identify ways to help remedy and mitigate rising antisemitism.

[nymph0puppp]

Please help me find this lost fic

It was a highschool au where like all the ships or at least most of them are together. Like starker and Stucky and Peter casts like a spell to get tony back and Wanda knows and in this new universe none of the avengers know about thanos or anything that has to do with the og universe. Eventually new tony gets old Tony’s memories back and things from the og universe start to happen like Afghanistan and the whole “make me weapons” thing.

Tony and Peter go through a lot of difficulties with their relationship but they get married in the end and it’s kinky and they find out that Peter can have kids

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

I've actually got two questions, and didn't know whether to separate them. Oh, well. I've been wondering, what will happen eventually for Pyrate Peter and Tony? I can imagine that this a spoiler that you will explore in next works, so I understand if you can't answer, but man, I just can't help thinking. It's such a bomb waiting to go off. Not just the feelings involved; the way Peter is basically all in but might be too young to recognize it as love, or to even realize how messed up the power imbalance would be and the shady circunstances in which they first came to make out - and then Tony, who is getting deeper and deeper into the mud, sliding down with no chance to crawl back up, trying to convince himself that he's not gone on his baby brother. But also the whole morality of it and the aspect of Tony taking advantage of Peter, seeing it even as a game. On top of all of that you still have Howard and Maria, and the whole problem that would be dating your brother while being one of the most famous families in the country. It's just not the fact of Maria and Howard finding out, like that one ask talked about, but just the notion that any road might lead to complicated branchs and difficult avenues. What would a happy ending look like for them? Would they be able to keep up the charade their whole lives? Would Peter feel groomed and go no contact? So many questions... Then, the second one, more of a prompt than an actual question. If you have any plans for continuing Kidnapped!au, I'd love to see the exact conversation Other!Peter has with Pyrite!Tony when Other!Peter and Pyrite!Peter make it to Pyrite!Peter's reality of origin. Like, the shovel talk, the warning; the I hope this goes without saying, but you are never touching him again. Would he threaten him? Use a little bit of Spidey intimidation tactic? I love Pyrite so much. Best Starker AU ever.

[[🐻ursa interlude🐻

Aww thank you I'm so glad you enjoy this universe! I admit the Pyrite boys take up a LOT of space in my brain haha so it makes me happy when other folks are interested. The things you talked about here are indeed a lot of the things that will be discussed in the sequel, which, mild basic premise spoilers, will follow the brothers as their relationship changes/develops over the years! Lots to dig into there and I hope you enjoy the eventual outcome 👀

Aaaand as far as the kidnapping AU, wellllll:]]

"Tony, can you show me Pete's room? He asked me to make a few changes," Peter said.

Tony— this younger Peter's Tony, Peter Stark's Tony, and it would've creeped Peter out a little that they were brothers even before knowing everything else—rose to his feet, looking appropriately haunted as he struggled to tear his eyes away from where Pete was still huddled with his parents on the couch, all of them with shaky hands and red-rimmed eyes and unsteady voices even hours later.

He was such the perfect picture of a caring older sibling, shellshocked by his little brother's return, that it was hard to imagine him doing the things that Pete had quietly told Peter about back in that warped version of Stark Tower.

But it was hard to imagine a Tony being the cruel dictator Peter had seen with his own eyes in that world, too, and after managing that situation, Peter wasn't feeling charitable.

It was convenient that the Stark family home had such long, isolated hallways. Peter closed the door behind them when they reached Pete's room anyway, but not because he was afraid of being overheard.

"Pete doesn't want your parents to know this, but he asked me to tell you," he said in response to Tony's vaguely questioning expression. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and continued, "I'm proof enough of the whole multiverse thing, yeah? So we're going to skip the part where you don't believe me when I tell you that the guy who kidnapped Pete was another Tony Stark."

Peter didn't say anything as he watched Tony's expression shift from incomprehension to shock to— there it was: horror.

"He— but then he— what does that mean?" Tony shook his head, wild, and it was fascinating to see any version of him thrown this off-balance. "No, no, that's—"

"Yeah, no," Peter interrupted, pushing off the wall. "We're skipping that part, I said. What it means is that the whole time Pete has been gone, the creep that he's spent every single day with for the last year, the creep that's been keeping him prisoner and abusing him and forcing him to do stuff he didn't want to do, the creep he's been living in fear of being murdered by, looked exactly like you, plus thirty-odd years. That's what it means."

Tony stared at him with a kind of numb dismay that seemed genuine enough, but Peter stayed quiet, eyebrows raised and waiting for a response. He wasn't going to rush in with softening disclaimers or rug-sweeping platitudes. He'd told the truth, and it was Tony's turn to talk.

He saw the change on Tony's face once he realized Peter was letting the words and all of their implications dangle there on purpose. Tony flinched back, and he had the audacity to look offended as he said, heated, "I wouldn't—"

"You wouldn't?" Peter's voice was sharp, cutting off Tony's defensive protest at the knees, and it was gratifying to watch his eyes widen with the recognition that Peter knew.

"Yeah," Peter said, and maybe it was a point in Tony's favor that he didn't shrink away as Peter stalked closer. "Me and Pete had a lot of time to talk while we were figuring out how to get us both home, you know? So I really hope that this goes without saying, but—"

He laid a heavy hand on Tony's shoulder, and leaned in close when he said, "You are never going to touch him again. Understood?"

So much about this Tony was jarring and unfamiliar. His family tie to his Pete. The things he had done. The youth of his face; the way he was closer to Peter's age than to the Tony that Peter knew. The way he stared at Peter, pale and frightened, because Peter's Tony had never had a reason to be afraid of him.

But Peter knew what regret looked like on Tony. He knew what self-hatred looked like on Tony— the furrow in his brow, the downturned corners of his lips, the crack of helplessness in his eyes that wasn't resignation but rather the desperation to fix.

So when Tony finally, finally nodded, silent, just a tiny wobble of his head with his eyes trained on the floor, Peter let his hand drop away from his shoulder.

"Good," he said, and he stepped back with a firm nod of his own. "Because Pete doesn't want to blow up another part of his life, and he deserves to have what he wants, but I'm going to be staying in touch. And I'm not going to let him get hurt again, and neither is anyone else in this house. Yeah?"

Tony nodded again, his eyes squeezed shut, and this time he managed to whisper, "Yeah."

And that was something. Peter didn't know how much it meant that Tony was agreeing with him; that he felt guilty. He'd wondered before— if he'd had the opportunity to talk to Westcott afterwards, would he have felt guilt? Would he have bowed his head with shame and been unable to meet Peter's eyes, like this unfamiliar Tony?

He didn't know. He couldn't know, and he wasn't sure he would've felt strong enough to take the opportunity even if he could. But this was what Pete had said he wanted, and Peter wasn't going to take another choice away from him if he could help it.

"Awesome," Peter said, and he cocked his head. "Pete said he wants to move his room closer to your parents'. I'll do the heavy lifting, but help me pack up the little stuff?"

Tony's head jerked up as he was clearly startled by the ask, but it only took a few beats for his expression to wash out with relief— relief and focus, and oh, Peter recognized that too.

"Okay," Tony said weakly, and he cleared his throat. "I— yeah. I can do that."

Peter watched as he moved with renewed purpose, packing trinkets and framed photos into boxes with scrupulous care and thrumming with the energy of having something to do with his regrets. His eyes were still downturned and his shoulders hunched with shame, but— nothing could've been more familiar to Peter than a Tony who was doubling down on fixing something he thought he had broken. And if Peter was still suspicious— still planning on keeping close tabs on Pete, still ready to dig up more insight into Tony's true feelings and exact intentions surrounding his little brother— that was enough to have him hoping that maybe, maybe, maybe things would be okay.

[peterstrk]

SCREAMS WERE DRIPPING WITH PAIN BUT THE VOICE DID NOT COME OUT OF MY MOUTH so hard to explain but the pain had covered my judgment all I did was freaking scream but useless sounds were not leaving the chain I was shouting and pleading for people to hear but nothing came out I was gagged in pain.

Peter Parker ladies and gents, even after weeks became months and months became years he never managed to let the pain of loss of Mr Stark leave him. He wonders he never ever will…

[preromantics]

(had to google common kinks because my brain is dead lol sorry)

But

Starker + voyeurism?

Or

Starker + anonymous sex

Oooh let’s try anonymous (errr kinda I took it to a glory hole place)!

-

It started as a joke. It was definitely a joke.

Someone — Peter can’t even remember, because Thor and Bruce had reverse engineered some long lost Asgardian hard liquor and gotten every person in the compound, enhanced metabolism to Actual God to regular human totally shitfaced — someone had complained about the lack of sexual partner options available to bonafide superheroes.

Peter is 97% sure he did not make the original complaint, but less sure if he privately or verbally agreed with the overall sentiment.

Anyway, someone had complained.

Tony, who fell on the human spectrum of easily-shitfaced-from-Asgardian-jet-fuel but also on the unfortunately superhuman liver side, had indulged his one social drink and promptly disappeared to the lab.

A few hours later, the assorted and still standing heroes of Earth had been led on a little drunken excursion by Tony to the compound sublevels. The group arranged a wobbly and cheerful single-file line ordered by height and wove through the gym and past the boxing rings to the locker room style communal showers.

Peter, who did not have the advantage of height compared to the collection of his coworkers (friends?) who were still standing, had been one of the last to see what all the parading had been about.

The last shower stall had been partitioned into two, with shiny new floor to ceiling doors.

The new middle partition — proudly gestured to by Tony in his best Vanna White impression — sported a single hole in the wall.

“This dial here can adjust the size to your… needs,” Tony was saying, giving a practical demonstration of the lever that opened and closed the hole like the aperture function of a camera lens.

Peter would’ve taken notes, but the rush of the alcohol and the implications and the Tony of it all caught up and deafened him with white noise.

—

So, it was a joke. 30 or so assorted superheroes, Avengers and otherwise, knew that a gloryhole existed in the communal showers on level B8 of the compound.

Theoretically, any of them could use it.

Peter wondered obsessively if anyone had tried it, joke or not.

He found himself lingering after a hard workout or training session, eyes closed under the spray of one of the normal shower stalls, and senses on high alert for the echoey pad of footsteps to the end of the room.

Eventually his curiosity graduated and he found himself walking down to the partitioned and private stalls, too. Ostensively just to look. Just to see if one door was closed and not the other. Just to see if anyone might be paying attention and follow him down.

Not that Peter would use the hole with anyone. Probably.

He wasn’t even sure what side he’d pick, or what he’d do — again, not that he was thinking about it.

He absolutely, definitely did not let his exploration take him into the farthest side, the door shutting with a final-sounding soft close clink, the lighting going dim in the stall.

A small green light, unobtrusive but obvious once you knew where to look, had startled him. Occupied.

(He definitely did not enter the little stall five more days in a row until on the fifth he gathered the courage to drop to his knees to asses the height of the hole relative to his mouth and fiddle with the adjustment knob.

Tony was, if nothing else, always the perfect engineer.)

-

Peter was hyper-aware when he was sharing a workout with anyone else. Waited to see if they’d follow him into the locker room.

Sometimes they did and he showered knowing someone else was a stall away. But no footsteps ever wandered to the end of the line of shower stalls.

He wasn’t disappointed, exactly. It was just. Whoever had complained that superheroes couldn’t get laid easily was speaking the truth.

Occasionally he would be working with Tony in the labs, on the rare occasion they were at the compound at the same time, and find himself wondering if Tony remembered the superhero glory hole he’d created several floors below him.

He’d wonder if Tony ever tried it.

He’d wonder if Tony ever thought about Peter trying it. If he’d seen Peter stumble away from the drunken group field trip presentation with blotchy red on his cheeks.

He’d wonder if Tony knew the height was perfect for the distance from Peter’s knees to his mouth.

He’d wonder if he was going a little crazy about the whole Glory Hole Joke.

-

“If I sit in this chair for another minute my back is going to spontaneously throw itself out,” Tony announces from his lab bench.

Peter smirks at him, sparing a glance up from his pipette and beaker. A quip is on his tongue, the perfect time for an old man joke, but the words die in his throat.

Tony is stretching slowly from a sit to a stand, arms over his head, faded t-shirt scrunching up under his armpits to reveal a few inches of soft belly skin dusted with hair.

“Gonna go get a workout in before lunch. Dinner? Midnight snack? Honesty no idea where we’re falling in the meal spectrum right now.”

Peter swallows around his dry throat. “Dinner,” he says, though he also has no clue what time it is. “Probably.”

Tony jerks his thumb toward the elevator across the room. “Maybe I’ll see you down there,” he says.

It sounds so casual. Maybe he will. Peter wants to die a little with how much he wants to see Tony on Floor B8. A little further past the gym than Tony has in mind.

“Maybe,” Peter agrees, turning back to his pipette, which he’s pretty sure has been steadily dropping too much of the base into his reactive acid this entire time.

-

Peter spends 10 minutes cleaning up his lab bench and another 5 staring blankly at the elevator doors.

The cheerful and non-descript elevator AI asks him what floor he wants three separate times. Peter is glad it isn’t FRI or KAREN. They’d have called him out by now.

“B8,” he says.

He walks out of the elevator with purpose, resolved to head to the rowing machine and get a pre-dinner workout in with Mr. Stark, shake off his nervous and pent-up energy until it’s sweat out of his system.

There’s a small snag in his plan. Tony is running on the omni-directional treadmill, back to Peter. He has Starkphones in, completely sound proof.

Peter licks his lips at the sight of the sweat on Tony’s back, the way it causes his shirt to cling to his spine.

He makes a split second decision, borne maybe of too many late night fantasy scenarios to count. It’s easy to walk past the treadmill and cross to the other end of the facility, past the boxing rings.

It’s easy to walk down the line of shower stalls, the overhead lights pinging on instantly as he walks further and further, steps getting quicker.

It’s — it’s not perfectly easy, he has to stop and take a breath before he walks into the farthest partitioned side of the glory hole. But then it is done: the door softly closes, the little green LED flicking on, and all Peter has to do is sink down to his knees.

All Peter did was walk across a room but his heart is beating wildly like he just went stealth mode on a dangerous stake out.

The reality is Tony didn’t notice Peter even enter the gym. He might finish his workout and go up to his own expansive compound rooms to shower. He might shower here, the echo of water driving Peter insane with mental images, and never even glance down to see the subtle green light.

He might see the green light, know that Peter is there, and leave anyway.

Peter bangs his head softly against the wall, nose catching the human-sized opening awkwardly, and resigns himself to letting his legs go numb from the knees down while he waits with all his hope in his throat, anyway.

-

A soft noise, the woosh of the main locker room door, makes every hair on Peter’s arms stand up.

He swallows, pitching forward in his enclosed stall as if that will bring him closer to the source of the noise.

It could be someone else, though Peter has no idea who could be on the weekend roster.

There’s a rustle of clothing he barely needs to strain to hear. The soft thump of something hitting the ground. The hiss of the pipes, not on a human frequency, before the spray of the water gushes out of a distant shower head.

The shower is over quickly, Peter notes, though time has gone soft and slippy. He closes his eyes.

Footsteps. Toward him. The slight air sound of a door opening. The well-known click of the private stall door shutting.

Oh, god. There is someone across from him. Peter forgets to breathe for a second entirely and has to fight from making a sound as he chokes between two inhales.

He can no longer distinguish the small noises from the rushing in his own ears.

The first movement in the hole nearly startles him; just a play of shadows as someone gets ready on the other side.

Then: a cock. It slides through, half-hard, resting thick and plump along the bottom edge of the hole as it passes through. The owner of the cock feeds it all the way, the fat head bending downward and then bobbing up. Toward Peter.

Peter inhales; the scent is clean and his lungs struggle to fill all the way. He rocks forward, drawn to the half-comical, half-arousing reality of the anonymous cock through the hole.

Is it really anonymous? Statistically, Peter thinks it should be Tony. He was in the gym. Would he know it was Peter on the other side? Tony invited Peter down to workout, so the odds were decent the other way around.

Tentatively, Peter darts his tongue out to lick across the head of the cock. It’s flushed darker than the root, and the salty sweet of it blooms on Peter’s tongue.

He may have just licked Tony Stark’s fat cock head for the first time. The idea of it thrills Peter to his bones, his own cock throbbing against the zip of his jeans.

There’s a chance it isn’t Tony.

Peter licks a bolder stripe across the head, swirling around the ridge. His saliva glands are over active, he’s practically drooling already at the idea of this.

There’s a chance it’s someone else. Peter may never even find out.

His cock twitches at that, too. Fuck. He wraps his lips around the entire head, drenching it with his own slick excitement as he opens his mouth up further and slides down several inches in his eagerness.

He gags, pulls back, and returns immediately.

The man on the other side of the wall is silent, but a slight bang against the wall — the slap of someone’s hand to the partition, as if Peter’s already doing such a good job they can’t help it — makes Peter shove more of the warm cock between his lips to muffle any of his own noises.

If he moaned, he’s sure someone could pick out the octave of his voice and just know. They’d know Peter is twenty seconds into this and already drooling for it.

Tony would know for sure. The thought makes Peter palm his own cock, wishing he’d thought to unzip his jeans while he waited, but not wanting to stop to focus enough to do so now.

He would’ve felt so pathetic, waiting alone, pants undone and cock half-hard with anticipation. Now, he’s stuck curling his fingers against the denim of his fly and worrying he might leak precome through his briefs and jeans by the end of this.

He tongues along the bottom vein of the cock in front of him, marveling at the weight of it and at the stretch of his lips around it as they drag slickly up and down. The angle is decent, but still strange, his neck stiff as he tries to bob back and forth to take the entire thing.

The cock in his mouth is definitely fully hard now, pulsing and flexing against Peter’s tongue, the tip bursting an addictive drop of precome every few passes. The taste is such a contrast to the soap-clean skin of the length that every taste forces Peter to swallow back a moan.

His nose mashes slightly against the wall when he focuses enough to take as much as he can down his throat. It feels deliriously good, a sense of terribly slutty pride coursing through him every time his nose hits the partition over the hole.

He’s slid all the way down when the owner of the cock abruptly slides back out.

Peter’s mouth opens around an unvoiced protest, barely catching a whine from spilling out before the cock slides back in, fucking back between Peter’s parted swollen lips and down his open throat.

He does moan at that, deep and hopefully muffled by his mouth full of cock.

Peter catches on quickly: he can keep his mouth open, his forehead and nose pressed hard against the wall, and the stranger on the other end can simply fuck his mouth.

It’s so simple to stay still, dragging his tongue back and forth and dragging his hand over his own trapped cock while he gets efficiently face fucked. It’s almost dream-like, two pinpoints of focus — the stranger’s pleasure and Peter’s pleasure — taking up all the space in his brain.

A hand slaps the wall on the other side again, harder this time, the cock in Peter’s mouth tensing and pulsing before his throat is coated with come.

Peter comes in his own pants, hips frantically bucking as he swallows down several continuous seconds of anonymous come. He bangs his head on the wall, hard, trying to balance and keep his position at the same time.

When the cock slides out from between hips lips, dragging and lingering on Peter’s bottom lip for a moment before disappearing, Peter falls back against the tile and inhales sharply.

He waits for the click of the door on the other side of the wall and for the padding of the feet to disappear. He doesn’t even have the mental energy to try and figure out if he recognizes the sound and weight of the softly echoing feet.

He forgets about dinner, peeling himself off the floor eventually and floating all the way to his room.

-

In the morning, Peter is slow to rise, feeling heavy-limbed and not awake enough to revisit the previous night.

When he finally manages to roll out of bed and head to the communal kitchens, the line of Tony’s back at the breakfast bar greets him first.

Peter flashes to the sweat-soaked gym shirt from the night before and swallows around a suddenly dry mouth once again.

“Hey shortstack,” Rhodes calls from the other side of the counter.

Peter gives him a tired salute, covering for his slight startle, and heads for the fridge behind Tony.

“You two see any ghosts while you were rattling around this place all by your lonesomes last night?” Rhody asks.

Peter just catches himself from overpouring his orange juice onto the counter as the dots connect in his head. He never did look at the weekend security roster.

Surely Rhody can’t mean he and Tony were the only—

“Ghosts? No, just me and Pete, who ghosted me for dinner.”

Tony turns and grabs the freshly poured orange juice glass from Peter’s hands, catching his finger tips as he pulls it free and sparking heat up Peter’s fingers in return.

“For me? You didn’t have to,” Tony says, catching Peter’s startled glance with a too-wide smile.

He takes a wide gulp, only breaking eye contact to turn around and set the glass down.

Tony slaps the counter with a small, satisfied groan. “Delicious,” he says brightly.

Rhody rolls his eyes and turns back to his phone and eggs.

Peter stands still. The slap echos over and over again in Peter’s head as he flushes. Oh.

——-

WELL I said I was going to answer these on my phone and I did. Oops. Will edit and whatever on my computer tomorrow hahaha.

[jeannereames]

The Popular Vote Still Matters

Sure, the US system with its arcane Electoral College determining elections makes it SEEM like the popular vote is unimportant.

It isn't.

First, it underscores the divide between the electoral college and the Will of the People, which has been getting ever-starker since the 1990s. That in turn might (eventually) lead to the dismantling of the E.C.

Second, it's incredibly important in the face of claims that voting is fraudulent. When trying to steal an election by saying elections in a handful of states have been interfered with, having a large difference in the popular vote makes that argument more difficult.

So whether you're in a Red State where your vote "won't count," or you're in a solidly Blue State that doesn't "need" your vote...

VOTE ANYWAY. Regardless of the electoral college, we must make this election a popular vote landslide for Harris/Walz.

[nikathesiren]

Ok so just a funny idea: imagine if after Johnny and mer! Gyro met it takes Johnny a very long time to realize that Gyro is actually a merman 😂

Every night Johnny wheels his way over to shore onto the pier, staring out at the evening sea and wistfully mourning his broken dreams. And also every night, Gyro comes to the surface under cover of darkness, marveling at the beauty of the surface world while keeping hidden from humans.

One day, both of them come onto the pier on the same evening and Johnny realizes there's someone in the water. They get into a little conversation before Gyro departs. Both of them feel quite lonely, so they start meeting over at the pier more regularly every night, getting to chat and gradually coming to enjoy each other's company and gaining each other's trust.

It's dark out, so Johnny doesn't really see much, but he does eventually start to question, "wait a second, what are you doing out in the ocean late at night anyway? And how come I've never seen you get out of the water? You're not...naked down there are you?" Gyro just laughs it off and Johnny thinks "yeah, he's definitely starkers out there, who am I to judge."

It isn't until some time later that Johnny invites him over to stay at his place for the night during a cold spell, since the water would be very chilly that night. Gyro is like "Well, since we've known each other for quite a while, I have a secret I have to tell you." Johnny is like "We'll talk about it once we get inside, we don't want you to freeze out here or catch a cold!"

To his surprise, he notices that Gyro is crawling as he makes his way to Johnny's house. Johnny winces in sympathy, knowing what it's like to struggle without his chair. "Oh, he's also disabled like me, he can't walk. Is that the secret he wanted to tell me? No wonder he came to bond with me, we're the same all this time."

Only to realize, upon seeing Gyro in the bright lights of his house, that they aren't alike at all.

"OH MY GOD! GYRO, YOU'VE GOT A FREAKING SHARK SWALLOWING HALF OF YOU!"

"No, no that was what I wanted to tell you. That 'shark' is my tail. I'm a merman."

And at that point, Johnny just faints from surprise right on the spot. 😂

HAHAHAHAHA, I thought about this kind of scene at some point, taking advantage of the fact that mer!Gyro is usually hiding from humans behind some rocks at the shore, but the way you described everything is cute and hilarious, and I love it ❤️ I'm sure everyone will love reading this, too.

[thenationaltreasuregazette]

Really?? Nicolas Cage and the Art of Weirdness

It’s kind of strange that Nicolas Cage is the star of National Treasure, right? Tame, family-friendly Disney flicks aren’t exactly his brand.

While the casting still strikes me as an odd choice sometimes, I am eternally, supremely, primordially grateful that he took the role of Ben Gates.

As I touched on while discussing Abigail’s Accent, National Treasure isn’t a film with a lot of subtly or nuance. At least, it wasn’t going to be until it slowly morphed throughout production, as giant collaborative projects tend to do.

Just like Diane Kruger brought nuance and depth to the role of Abigail Chase through both her acting choices and the presence of her accent, Nicolas Cage transformed Ben Gates from a generic action-adventure hero into something far superior: an awkward, obsessive forty year old man.

To fully appreciate the Nic Cage of it all, let’s begin with what the role looked like before he signed on.

More ↓

For those unfamiliar, there’s a version of the National Treasure script available online that’s dated from the month before Cage signed on as the lead. It’s hugely fascinating in the ways it’s the same as, and also wildly different from, the finished film. You can read more about it here.

Age

The first major effect casting had was changing Ben’s age. In the 2003 script he’s introduced as

…intrepid explorer BEN GATES(late 20s, strong family resemblance)

Obviously Nic Cage was not in his late 20s in 2004. Born in 1964, he was 39/40 when the film shot and 40 by the time it came out.

We know from Ben Gates’ drivers license that his character is supposed to be 39 in the first film, as his birthday is shown as May 1965. Why the one year difference? Hollywood is allergic to people over 40. Next question.

So, Ben went from a 20-something to a (basically) 40 year old man. And that changed the story in a few subtle but important ways.

First, it makes Ben’s quest take on a different flavor. To be in your late 20s and still chasing a pipe dream is not that unusual or socially unacceptable. People in their 20s do stupid, impulsive, risky things. They are socially ‘allowed’ to be a mess. At 40, not so much. Ben’s peers have houses and families and kids who need to be taken to soccer practice.

This makes a difference to me because it emphasizes the desperation of Ben’s quest, and his absolutely unwavering belief in the treasure. It also paints a starker contrast between Ben and his father, because when Patrick was 29 he was still gallivanting around treasure hunting too. By the time Patrick was the age Ben is now, he had disavowed treasure hunting and “grown up” into a normal life. But Ben just won’t let go. The older Ben gets, the less hope Patrick has that he will eventually grow out of it. At 29 that kind of hope would still feel possible for his son. At 39, it probably doesn’t.

Hotness

I’m so sorry that we have to talk about this, but we do.

Ben Gates was clearly written to be played by a hot young actor. That’s hot as in popular, and also as in sexy.* A typically implausibly fit and handsome leading man. This is evidenced not only by his age, but by the two (2) shirtless scenes written for Ben in the 2003 script.

Ben Gates is supposed to be hot.

And Nicolas Cage is...I'm not going to say "not hot," lord knows I'm on the being-normal-about-that-old-man webbed site but sex appeal not the primary reason you cast him.

What Nic Cage is know for is being weird.

*I’m aroace and vaguely sapphic, help me I don’t know what I’m doing here.

Weirdness

Weird. Eccentric. Zany. Over-the-top. Melodramatic.

These are the qualities Nicolas Cage is famous for, but they aren’t qualities the role of Ben Gates necessarily calls for. In fact, too far in any of these directions, and the performance could push an already implausible movie over the edge into farce. We wouldn’t take Ben or his quest seriously enough to get invested in the story.

But Nicolas Cage knew that. For as absurd as the iconic “I’m gonna steal the Declaration of Independence” line is, it's the premise that's ridiculous, not the performance. This isn’t the place to find one of Cage's signature zany performances. Search any number of "Craziest Nicolas Cage performances" lists and National Treasure won't rank. He tones it down enough that Ben feels like a rather grounded person in an over-the-top story.

However, he doesn’t tone it down completely, and that is so important.

The little places where Cage lets a hint of his signature weirdness flicker through round out Ben as a character, and give him more (or at least a different flavor of) nuance than he might have had in other hands, particularly if he were cast and played as a typically suave and macho leading man.

Case Study (Cage Study?)

Let’s look at this line from the 2003 script. This is what the FBI has to say when they’re searching Ben’s apartment.

AGENT JOHNSON Profilers say we're looking at an adult male, a loner, has a high IQ but has never been able to hold down a job, is socially inept, has probably written numerous letters to the White House expressing antigovernment sentiments. We're expecting him to contact us shortly with ransom demands.

This line is supposed to show us how off the mark the FBI is in their theory. The joke is that they’re all wrong about Ben.

Except, are they?

In this version of the script, every one of these items after “adult male” is incorrect.

Ben’s not a loner; he’s been working with Riley for 7 years.

He hasn’t not been able to hold down a job, he’s been salvage diving and treasure hunting consistently.

He’s not socially inept; he’s a ladies man. We hear multiple references to past girlfriends, and of course there’s Patrick’s assumption that Abigail's pregnant.

And obviously he hasn’t expressed anti-government sentiment and has no plans to ransom the Declaration, even in exchange for his own freedom.

What I want to argue here is that with the casting of Nicolas Cage, most of these false assumptions about Ben became true, at least a little bit. Of course there were many forces at work shaping the final tone and content of the film, but all of them—writing, directing, acting, costume design, etc—became oriented around fitting this character to the man playing him.

Loner

In the final film, Ben is a bit of a loner. He doesn’t seem to have known Riley for that long, and he immediately gets betrayed by the only other person he’s close to. His status as an outsider is emphasized by the fact that he and his family have been ostracized from the historical community.

In the 2003 script, this element isn’t present and Ben gives a fake name for other reasons. We also meet his landlady, whom he’s very kind to, and hear about at least one former girlfriend. In short, we get a sense of the web of people in Ben’s life outside of the treasure hunt. In the final film, Ben is seemingly much more isolated.

Job

We also get no evidence about Ben’s job. The 2003 script makes multiple references to Ben working as a salvage diver, which might not be what he hopes for, but it is a clear profession. In the final movie we only get reference to Ben being trained at the Naval Diving and Salvage Training Center, which implies that he’s qualified to work at a salvage diver, but gives no indication that this is what he regularly does for work.

We also have Patrick saying:

PATRICK I have a job, a house, health insurance. What do you have?

The contrast makes it clear that Ben doesn’t have any kind of consistent job. Now, my guess is he does still work salvage jobs in this version, and that’s how he affords his apartment and the other things he needs to keep treasure hunting, but it’s never directly mentioned.

As to why he doesn’t hold down a job, the obvious answer is that it would interfere with his relentless pursuit of the Charlotte and the Templar Treasure. It makes sense that he simply chooses not to keep a consistent job because that’s not compatible with his goals. However, I want to raise the possibility that Ben would struggle to hold down a job even if he tried. If, say, he needed some expensive new diving equipment and took a several months long “normal” job in order to afford it, I think he’d be constantly distracted by the treasure and might quit and/or get fired the next time he needed to dash off on a lead.

Socially inept

Likewise, in the final movie, Ben is charming and clever and all the things a leading man is supposed to be, and also awkward and fairly socially clueless.

On the Charlotte he seems surprised that Ian and his guys turn out to be armed criminals, so either he was so desperate for resources and support to continue the hunt that he’s in denial or he’s very bad at reading people. Or at least, very bad at reading Ian. Maybe both. (There’s also the matter of his very poor attempt at bluffing in this scene.)

He’s awkward with Abigail in their meeting in her office, and even more awkward giving the toast. She even points out to him that he says the poetic things that are on his mind even though most people know they're not supposed to do that.

Then of course we have the “cavalier in my personal life” exchange, which I plan to dig into in depth at a later time, but for now let’s leave it at: Ben is not always on the same page as the people he’s in relationships with.

And there’s the very strange reading of the line “really?” after Ben and Abigail survive the collapsing staircase sequence. He’s amazed that he’s met someone who would also prioritize a historical artifact over personal safety, and he delivers the line just…weirdly.

Conclusion

He’s weird! (affectionate)

Ben Gates is a weird guy!

By the final film, Ben Gates had become a hybrid of the thing he was always supposed to be—a suave, swashbuckling hero—and the thing he was not supposed to be—a weirdo outcast on the fringes of society.

To draw a comparison to another popular Disney adventure flick that came out the year before: Ben was supposed to be the Will Turner of National Treasure, the hunky young underdog who always gets the girl. By casting Nicolas Cage and letting him bring a little history and a little weirdness to the role, Ben Gates ended up edging just a liiiiiiittle bit into Jack Sparrow territory as well.

He occupies both spaces, and I think that duality serves to deepen his character and make him far more interesting than if he was a straight-forward action-adventure hero.

Hooray for weird middle-aged men.

[babybatscreationsv2]

Not a Sports Guy

Marvel | Starker

Peter isn't really a sports guy, but Tony is an athlete. When Tony talks him into coming to one of his games, Peter decides to wear the opposing team's jersey. It was only intended to be a petulant joke, but the other team doesn't know that.

Rating: Explicit

For H <3

Warnings and tags below

Warnings/tags: possessive sex, protective Peter + protective Tony, sports au, rough sex, shower sex, exhibitionism

"You know I'm not going, Tony," Peter said. The amused smile on his face took the sting out of it but it didn't stop Tony from asking again.

"Just this once?" He sat down on the bed beside him. "You can watch me get all roughed up and sweaty."

Peter wrinkled his nose. He snapped another Lego onto what would eventually be a Lego model of Commander Cody's head. "I don't like it when you're sweaty."

Tony sighed. "You can help me shower after," he tried more suggestively.

"In the locker room with all the other guys? No thank you."

"Come on, Pete."

Peter rolled over onto his back and looked up at him. "Why do you want me to go so bad when you know I won't like it?"

"I just want you to see me in action."

"I already know how good you are. You have trophies and a sports scholarship that you don't even need."

"But I want you to see," Tony pouted.

"I won't even know what's happening. I'm a Lego, Star Wars, chemistry guy. I'm not a sports guy."

Tony blew air out of his nose. They sat staring at each other for a moment. "You're going. Just this once and then you never have to go again. But you're going."

"Fine. I'll go."

Tony smiled. "Good boy." He bent down and gave him a kiss.

Peter rolled his eyes. "At least let me finish this before the game."

"Whatever you want. I'll even order pizza." Tony climbed off of him and jumped down from the bed.

Peter laughed. "Pizza sounds great." He finished most of his Lego set before the doorbell rang. The pair ate their pizza and went to bed, one of them dreading and the other excited for the upcoming game.

The weekend came and Tony was abuzz. He dragged Peter around the stadium, showing him off to everyone who would listen. Only for Peter to sneak off to the bathroom and return wearing the wrong team's jersey.

"What's this?"

Peter crossed his arms over his chest. "I told you I didn't want to come and I'm here in protest."

"Come on, Pete," Tony sighed.

"Nope." Peter raised an eyebrow at him. He couldn't really be mad over this could he?

"Take it off," Tony said more firmly.

"Nope." Peter continued to stand, stiff and unyielding.

"Please. I'll buy you something nice."

"Not this time."

"Someone's gonna see you."

"Let them."

Tony looked over his shoulder. Everyone was heading out and there wasn't time left to argue.

"We'll talk about this later."

"Good luck."

Tony bristled as he stepped back outside. The air suddenly felt too hot and the noise of the crowd was grating. He stopped and faced the sun, eyes closed soaking it up with his skin. He heard footsteps, but he didn't look. Then a pair of arms wrapped around him and soft lips found his own. He wrapped his arms around Peter's waist and kissed him back.

"I said, good luck," Peter repeated. Tony opened his eyes to see him looking back at him with a teasing smile. He slipped away and Tony scowled after him, but the aggression was long gone. He could be such a shit sometimes.

He jogged out onto the field to join his team. It wasn't his best performance, but it wasn't his worst. Still he walked away frustrated that his team had fumbled the one game Peter was watching. He walked out towards the bleachers where he'd seen Peter sitting. His jaw clenched so hard he might have chipped a tooth.

His boyfriend was surrounded by three guys from the opposing team. They were all laughing and grinning. As he came closer, he could hear Peter talking about him.

"He really is the star of the team," Peter beamed.

One of the scoffed laughed. "Being the star of the losing team isn't that impressive though, is it?"

"You can't win them all," Peter countered.

One of the guys touched his shoulder. "We do. We're on a winning streak. Six straight games this season."

"You must know all about that," the third guy said. "You're wearing our jersey."

"I just wore it as a joke. I don't really care about sports. I'm a Star Wars guy."

"Oh really? You should come with us then. One of the guys has this old Boba Fett figure that he brings for good luck. He says it's really rare."

"That sounds really cool, but no thank you."

"Come on, you'll love it."

"Yeah, you can get to know the winning team a little better." His hand slid down Peter's shoulder to rub his arm.

Tony finally reached them. Peter's eyes turned to him as he came close. There was a flicker of something there. Guilt or anxiety or warning. Didn't matter. He grabbed the guy's wrist, squeezing but not as hard as he wanted to. He wanted to snap the damn thing in half.

"He said no."

He laughed and yanked his hand free. Peter stood up from his seat and stepped closer to Tony. His hand settled just above Tony's waist.

"Sorry. We just thought such a pretty boy deserved better than some loser."

Peter turned, quick as a snake, and deck him straight in the nose. Tony heard the crunch before the scream. He grabbed Peter around the waist and took a step back. The guy's teammates were too stunned, too busy watching the blood run beneath his palm to react quickly. So, Tony kept moving. Peter was tense, really to lash out again and it took a few backwards steps down the bleachers before he turned around and walked with him. Tony wrapped his arm around his shoulders, ears perked up for pursuers, but all they got were a few rude words yelled across the distance.

They walked across the grass and into the locker room. The rest of the team was either chatting, changing, or in the showers. Tony ignored them.

"Tony, I'm sorry-" Peter began.

"Don't be. I'm sorry I pressured you into coming."

He shook his head. "No, I shouldn't have been such a brat about it. This matters to you. It's not just a hobby. I get that now. And you looked really good out there, too."

Tony couldn't ignore the jersey in his periphery.

"Why were you talking to them?"

"I'm sorry. They just came up to me after the game and they knew who I was. I thought they were friends of yours."

Tony put his hand on Peter's shoulder where the other's had been. After a moment of consideration, he grabbed the fabric in his fist. He leaned in and kissed him, pushing him back into the wall. Peter leaned into him, kissing him back just as eagerly. He wanted him out of that jersey.

He pulled it up, breaking away from Peter's lips only long enough to pull it over his head. With a hand on his waist and one cupping the side of his next, he pulled him along towards the showers, navigating towards the sound of the water.

Tony backed around the corner into the open shower. It was shadowy, but not quite dark. Still he pushed Peter into the corner where it almost felt private, if you closed your eyes. He turned him around and pushed him into the wall.

"Tony," Peter gasped, softly. Tony nipped the side of his neck.

"Mine," he said in answer. Peter didn't argue as Tony unhooked his jeans and let them drop around his ankles along with his underwear. He grabbed a bar of soap left on the shelf and turned on the water beside them. They weren't quite under the spray, but their shoes were definitely soaked. And Peter's pants, Tony realized too late. It didn't matter now.

He lathered up the soap and with wet soapy hands yanked open his pants to get his dick out. He lubed himself up with soap and grabbed Peter's hip. Peter stopped him with a hand reaching behind him, only to take Tony's cock and press it against his hole. He leaned into it, pushing his hips back. He gasped, barely audible beneath the sound of the running showers. Tony watched his ass swallow him up like it was nothing. He held Peter's against him and kissed his neck until Peter turned his head to reach his lips.

He kissed him until the pressure around his cock was irresistible. Then he pushed him back into the wall with a hand on the back of his neck so he could fuck him hard. Peter gasped. He panted against the tile. Then he started to whine, painful whimpering moans that said he was being too rough and the soap wasn't enough. But he didn't complain. He pushed his hips back against Tony's crying his name with nothing short of worship.

He pressed him against the wall with his whole body, grinding into him until he was pushing Peter up onto his toes. He had tears in his eyes and he was shaking. Tony slowed down.

"Too much?"

"No, please- don't stop," Peter panted in broken sentences. "I'm so close- I was trying to- didn't want to cum yet."

Tony kissed his neck only to find himself biting into his skin. "Fuck," he moaned. "You're so fucking hot, baby."

Peter whined. He pushed his ass back against him, but Tony didn't take the bait. Instead he leaned back and pulled his jersey over his head. He put it on Peter.

Tony grabbed the front of it and pulled it up, balling it in his hand. He stuffed it into Peter's mouth. Obediently, he bit down, keeping the fabric where Tony put it.

"You're fucking mine, you hear me?"

Peter nodded. "Yes," he said with his mouth full. "I'm all yours! Please," he moaned.

Tony fucked him slowly, only so he could suck hickies into every bit of skin he could reach. He neck, his shoulders, the underside of his chin, until he couldn't stop himself anymore.

"You want my cum, baby?"

"Please, please," Peter begged.

"I want to feel you cum for me first. Show me how good I make you feel."

Peter moaned, jersey falling from his open mouth. He came immediately, clearly having been on edge for so long. Tony pushed him into the wall, fucking him through it and letting him rub his dick against the tile. When Peter whined his name, Tony came, too. He imagined fucking him like this right over the bleachers for all those assholes on the other team to see.

"So good, Peter," Tony breathed. "My good boy."

Peter smiled. He hummed happily and reached back to find Tony's hand and hook their fingers together. He shared a lazy kiss.

Tony lifted his head and something moved in the corner of his eye. A few of his teammates were peeking around the corner and ran as he saw them. Tony laughed.

"Thanks for the show!" one of them hollered. The rest broke out into whistles and cheers.

"Were they all watching?" Peter asked.

"Looks like it."

Peter groaned. He turned around and Tony wrapped him in his arms.

"At least no one will worry about who's jersey you're wearing after this story gets out."

"I'm never taking this one off."

"So, you'll come to the next game, too?" Tony smiled innocently.

"No," Peter said. "But I guess I'll help you shower, after all.”

[coffee-counts-as-a-meal]

warning for tlou ep 4 spoilers (and TLOU Part 2) but:

not to be horribly meta on main but I'm mainly screaming over how this episode exemplified how well this story was adapted to a television format, ESPECIALLY regarding the themes that ND has repeatedly stated he wanted to explore in the TLOU Part 2 that maybe didn't quite land the way he meant them to

(Benioff and Weiss and their hatred for eighth grade book reports should be taking copious notes rn lol)

I remember when the second game came out and there was this big to-do about how the perspective towards "villains" had changed - not just in the fact that you spend half the game playing as Abby (Joel's killer), but that the developers had actually given names to all the NPCs that end up as cannon fodder for the player. The AI was supposed to be so advanced that for every enemy you killed as either Abby or Ellie, the NPC would beg for their life or curse you as you make the final blow or whatever, and then when their NPC friends found them you would hear their wailing and crying out for "Beck" or "Miranda" or whomever the fuck and the whole idea was that it was supposed to make you the player really think about the implications of taking a human life and the cycle of revenge yadda yadda yadda.

Which is a GREAT CONCEPT, but I just remember how...tedious it became, after a while. TLOU Part 2 got a lot of flak for a lot of reasons (some more valid than others imo) but I personally think its impossibly difficult to instill the lesson of "taking a life is something that carries real emotional weight" through the medium of a video game where you are mowing down LITERALLY HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE. That's just par for the course - you end up killing so many people that after a while their names mean nothing, BECAUSE THERE'S NO WAY TO CONTINUE THE GAME WITHOUT DOING SO. (I remember one reviewer talking about how fatigued they were with it - they didn't want to be killing all these people and stabbing dogs and they as a player were screaming through their fingers at the decisions Ellie was making to continue down this cycle of violence but there was no way to continue the game without going through it, even though the point had already been hammered home over and over again to the point where it was exhausting, we get it, killing should not be this easy but this is a video game for fuck's sake).

And maybe that was also the point was to make the player wonder how some characters (like Joel, maybe) eventually become so numb to the concept of taking life, but I just remember it being a point in Part 2 that ultimately just...kind of missed the mark.

And BOY OH BOY did the show hit it in this episode.

Literally, TLOU Part 2 wanted to make its point by naming hundreds upon hundreds of NPCs and TLOU Episode 4 managed to hit it with a single character named Bryan.

I think it also helps that when Joel is shooting back at the "hunters" (idk what they're calling them in the show canon but that's what they were at the game) we don't really see them die onscreen, so it makes Bryan's eventual demise even starker. But holy fuck hearing him plead with Ellie and Joel for his life hit so much harder than it ever did in the game. Hearing him try to bargain with a little girl, screaming for his mom only to go silent...I freaking love Joel and even then in that moment I felt that horror and slight...idek what to call it, not even disgust but just the moral grayness of it all made my stomach churn.

Ellie's tears felt so deserved in that moment. Even Joel's moment of hesitation (fuck you Pedro Pascal I hate how good you are at EVERYTHING) even as you know this must have been a thing he's done thousands of times before and even as necessary you might consider Bryan's death to be. Even as justified it may have been to kill an enemy in that moment, "It doesn't get any easier" is something that rings true. I believe it.

tldr; another banger episode from a team that knows what the fuck a theme is and how to tie that into your story with subtlety and nuance and FUCK EVERYONE AT NAUGHTY DOG AND HBO I CAN'T KEEP GETTING MY HEART BROKEN FOR ANOTHER MONTH AND A HALF