#peter being stuck in a relationship with his dad and not being able to fulfill his Max Happiness Potential

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

[fic: wicked love] Tony & Peter, would you rather fulfill your biggest wish or resolve your biggest regret?

Peter: Oh, that's…

…Well, they're kind of the same thing, I guess. I want… I want me and Dad to be able to be happy-- like, really happy, long-run happy, and… getting things really resolved about what happened before is part of that, right?

Unless you mean somehow undoing my biggest regret, which is… harder. It'd be nice to be optimistic and say, well, if we're happy then what happened back then doesn't need to change, but… that would be kind of selfish.

----- Tony: If we're talking magic genie wish: doesn't matter, same difference. If not... it's still the biggest wish.

[blancheludis]

My second entry for @marveltrumpshate​.

Characters: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes, Pepper Potts, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff Tags: Developing Relationship, Dad!Steve, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, Friendship, Love, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending Chapters: 1/? Words: 5.639

Summary: Tony and Steve are friends. That's all. Even if everybody seems to believe otherwise. Steve's not gay, after all, and he doesn't have time for brilliant billionaires who make him laugh. Right? 

---

The crowd is suffocating. Too many people in too small a place. The air might be filled with excitement and energetic chatter, but Steve expects to hear screams any second now. Panic can erupt so easily, and this hall is so packed with bodies that there is nowhere to run.

Familiar tension fills Steve as he sets one foot in front of the other, scanning the room for potential exit routes. He volunteered to come here; he keeps telling himself. Either way, his paranoia is ridiculous. He is a grown man and survived far worse places than a science exposition. Nothing will happen. He is just being silly.

Peter tugs at his hand, moving through the crowd without a single trace of hesitation. He is so short that he cannot see much more than a sluggishly moving wall of legs before him, but that does not slow him down.

The Stark Expo is all Peter has been talking about for weeks, ever since Bucky brought a brochure to a family dinner. Steve loved listening to them gush about whatever technical marvel they were most interested in. When Peter asked to go, there was nothing else to do but to say yes with a smile.

Bucky should be here. He would understand much more of what is being shown and talked about here, and while he has a number of his own issues, he is marginally better with crowds than Steve. But then Bucky’s prosthetic malfunctioned, and they talked him into taking care of it immediately instead of putting up with the strain of walking around with his arm as deadweight just because of the expo.

Steve never hesitated to go in his stead. Peter is the most important person in his life, and he would do anything for him. They have lost enough already.

“Can we go to the robotics hall first?” Peter asks, throwing an excited grin over his shoulder. Despite the surrounding noise, Steve hears him perfectly, too tuned to miss none of his son’s words.

One-handed, Steve reaches into his pocket to get out the map they got at the entrance. He unfolds it and tries to apply the colourful schematic on the paper to the brimming chaos around them. He is tall enough to look over most of the heads in front of him, and he thinks he catches sight of a sign to the robotics hall.

“We need to go to the left,” Steve says, staring back at his map. “It should be two halls over.”

Smiling in response, Peter immediately steers to the left, ignoring the movement of the crowd. Steve’s brain gets stuck trying to find gaps to move through. There are none. He should have expected that. At this point, Steve is sure he would fare better if he simply closed his eyes and let Peter guide him where they need to go – if only panic would not set in the moment he tried.

The famed Stark Expo is known to be brilliant and organised and filled with exciting, life-changing knowledge. A multitude of branches and fields of science get their own hall to fulfil everybody’s needs.

Steve is not a scientist. The closest he comes to ever working with any kind of precision or calculable form is when he draws circles on canvas. Peter, despite being only eight years old, already has the brain of someone who will shape the future at some point. Steve is sure he gets that from Peggy.

At the moment, Peter’s greatest obsession is robots. At fault for that is mostly Bucky with his prosthetic, a top of the line Stark model, they were lucky enough to get through a veteran program.

Somehow, they get to the left side of the main hall. Once they get to a side hall, the crowd becomes sparser. Steve takes a deep breath. The anxiety is not completely gone, still pressing down on his sternum, but he can walk without stumbling over someone else’s feet, and actually see where he is going.

The expo has only opened the day before and several speeches are scheduled in the main hall this morning, so the rush is expected. For now, fewer people have decided to seek out the specific exhibitions.

“Are you all right, Dad?” Peter asks suddenly, walking right next to Steve instead of hurrying ahead.

He looks worried, never one to miss other people being in distress. Steve is not sure how he managed to create a child that is not just brilliant but so very empathetic too, but he is grateful for Peter every day.

“Of course, Peter,” Steve replies and straightens a little to give his words more weight. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this outing for his son.

“I know you don’t like many people in one place,” Peter says and watches the surrounding crowd while he bites his lip. Then he looks back up at Steve, his expression completely earnest. “We don’t have to stay long.”

Steve winces. He needs to pull himself together. They have not even fully arrived yet and Peter is already offering him a way out. So much for making sure Peter will have a great day.

“We’ll stay as long as you want,” Steve says. When Peter does not appear convinced, he adds, “I’m really fine.”

Nodding, Peter quickens his step again, but makes sure to stay at Steve’s side. “Perhaps Uncle Bucky can come join us later,” he says with audible hope in his voice.

Steve doubts that very much. Even if the problem with the prosthetic can be dealt with quickly, it usually drains Bucky too much to be able to do much of anything after these appointments. Coming to the expo with hundreds of strangers around them is most certainly out of the question.

It would be nice for Peter’s sake, of course. While Steve is willing to listen to everything Peter has to say, never getting bored even if he sometimes does not understand a word, Bucky is better able to keep up.

“Perhaps,” Steve says, unwilling to reject Peter’s hopes outright. “But we’re here for you, so take all the time you need.”

A beaming smile works itself back on Peter’s lips. “There will be a workshop of Stark Industries’ prosthetic division later,” he says in a flurry of words tumbling out of him in excitement. “Maybe they can teach me how Uncle Bucky’s arm works. And when I’m older, I can do the repair work for him so he doesn’t have to go to the lab all the time.”

Steve’s eyes burn as he looks down at his brilliant son, always aware of other people’s needs. Peggy used to tell him this is his influence, but while Steve did not let any chance pass him by to fight bullies, Peter seems to actively search for ways to make people’s lives better at all times.

“He would love that,” Steve says, pride filling his voice. “And you’re undoubtedly smart enough.”

One of Peter’s elementary school teachers had wanted to test Peter’s intelligence level, but they rebuffed all her inquiries. They need no test to tell them that Peter is smart, but giving him a proper childhood and a chance to grow at his own speed is more important than prodding his brain to find out how much he can do exactly.

“But I’ll be too young for them to talk to.” Peter’s shoulders slump a bit when he shrugs, disappointed but unwilling to let it ruin his day for him.

“That’d be stupid of them,” Steve argues immediately. Even if he does not want to go around proclaiming his son a genius to everybody who’s willing to listen, he will not let Peter deny his own brilliance either. “It doesn’t matter how old you are, just what you can do and what you’re willing to learn.”

If anybody tried to give Peter any problems during that workshop, Steve will not hesitate to tell them exactly what he thinks of that. According to reliable sources, Steve can stare at people with so much disappointment that it feels like a punch to the gut. His muscles help too, of course.

“I want to learn.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

 ---

Watching Peter is a constant source of delight. Once he has been given permission, he runs ahead, checking out every booth and every plate with information. He talks to everybody willing to listen, firing questions as quickly as he can get them over his lips.

Steve is content sitting in the background as long as he can keep an eye on Peter from afar and Peter comes checking in with him at regular intervals.  

If a problem arises, Steve is ready to jump up and intervene. Experience shows, however, that people tend to only ever talk to Steve when he hovers at Peter’s side. Since Steve wants Peter to enjoy this day as much as he can, he is happy to stay back.

At one point he signals Peter that he will step out for a moment and gets an absentminded wave in return. The hall is slowly filling up and Steve could use some room to breathe. It is also nearing noon, so he should get something to eat for the both of them. They have sandwiches in their bag, but maybe it is time for a treat.

Steve wanders around for ten minutes tops. Ten minutes should not be enough for Peter to get into trouble. Yet, Steve returns to the hall only to find a man crouching in front of his son. He has his back to Steve and Peter does not apear frightened but more like he is excited to tell someone in great detail about the robot he will build out of Lego pieces and parts of their gutted toaster. Steve’s blood is boiling, anyway. They are quite a few paces away from the next booth and the man is clad in an expensive looking suit. He does not look like he is here for the exhibition. Strange men have no business talking to little boys who are not with their parents.

His heart is beating loudly in his ears as Steve takes long strides to reach his son and then he does not waste any time trying to listen in on what they are talking about.

“What are you doing?” he bellows, his voice automatically dropping to the ordering tone he adopted in the Army.

He puts a hand on the man’s shoulder and pulls him away from Peter, not enough to unbalance him but enough to send a message. Peter is looking at him wide-eyed, but Steve only notices that peripherally as he is concentrating on the stranger.

The man gets up and Steve is struck at the sight. He recognises him instantly. How could he not? This face is plastered all over the walls at the expo. Hell, Peter has a poster of this man up in his room.

This is Tony Stark. Head of Stark Industries. Figurehead of the Stark Expo. One of the smartest – and richest – men on the planet. And he is talking to Peter. And Steve just yelled at him.

Tony Stark, in real life, looks much more vibrant than any picture could ever convey. It might be the way the skin around his eyes wrinkle as he smiles or that, despite being a head smaller than Steve, he has a kind of entrancing aura that is hard to escape. He does not look the slightest bit intimidated by Steve bearing down on him. He is either braver than he looks or simply ignorant.  

“Is this bright young man your son?” Stark asks and stays right where he is, almost too close for comfort. “I must say his ideas for robots put mine to shame.” He smiles and Steve has to admit it could be charming if his thoughts were not running rampant and he would not be fighting the urge to hide Peter behind him.

“Has no one ever told you not to talk to children without their parents present?” Steve all but growls.

Peter is stepping closer to him, reaching for his hand. “Dad,” he says, a plea in his tone.

But Steve does not look at him. “Not now, Peter.” He is busy glaring at Stark who just now begins to seem a bit apologetic.  

“I’m sorry,” Stark says, creasing his forehead. “I didn’t mean to –”

Impatiently, Steve cuts him off. “Well you did.”

He is not usually so rough with other people, but Peter’s safety is more important than anything else. It does not matter that Stark is a celebrity or known for giving a ton of money to charities every year. Steve is already on edge, thanks to the crowd, and every uncertainty regarding Peter puts him in immediate attack mode.

“I could buy you a coffee to apologise,” Stark say, his smile back on his face, even if it is a little probing. His tone holds something playful, almost flirtatious.

The sheer audacity renders Steve speechless for a long moment. Who thinks it is appropriate to ask someone out for coffee after accosting their child? Worse, who flirts with someone who is obviously a parent? In front of their son?

“Are you serious?” Steve asks, watching Stark with growing disgust. Then he takes Peter’s hand, which is still clinging to his jacket. “Peter, we’re done here. We’re leaving.”

One step is enough to realise that Peter has no intention to follow. He stands rooted in place, looking up at Steve with wide eyes, spooked at his sudden roughness. It would not take much to pull Peter after him. Even for his age he is small and scrawny, although his energy levels never suffered from that. Steve is not that kind of father, however. His son is his life, and it does not matter that he wants to leave this place as quickly as possible.

“But I went to talk to him,” Peter argues, moisture gathering in his eyes. He has a sense of right and wrong closely following Steve’s own. Of course, he would want to make sure Steve does not blame Stark for this if it was Peter’s idea to talk to him.

“No, kid. He’s right,” Stark says before Steve can. The immediate gentleness in his expression as he turns to Peter mollifies Steve somewhat. “You shouldn’t talk to strangers. Especially not strangers who promise you to show you their robots at some point.”

There is that smile again, marred with some guilt but nonetheless bright. Steve is not sure why he cannot take his eyes away from it.

“You’re not a stranger,” Peter says, twitching like he wants to underline his point by stomping his foot. He is his mother’s son, though, and Peggy always knew when to hold back.

“Peter.” Steve sighs, exhaustion creeping up in his bones. This is a problem.

Peter’s love for science and learning things tends to make him blind to dangers. The man smiling down from posters and starring in guest lectures is very much a stranger, even if Peter likes to hang on every word he says like it is gospel.

Their family consists of a rather paranoid bunch, always prepared for something to go wrong. How Peter could have turned out this trusting is a mystery, especially since he has already gotten a taste of how cruel life can be.

“He wasn’t going to do anything,” Peter insists, glaring at Steve as if he is the unreasonable one here. “We’re surrounded by people and I knew you’d be back any minute. I wouldn’t have gone anywhere with him.”

And who would stop Tony Stark if he decided to take a child somewhere? A child obviously excited and chattering a mile a minute?

“I know. I’m just –” Steve trails off, clenching his free hand at his side. He is never sure how to take care of Peter without smothering him.

Peter tugs at his hand and waits until Steve looks at him. “I’m worried too when you’re not there.”

The back of Steve’s eyes burns, but he pulls his lips up into a smile, wobbly but honest. His son will be a good person one day. He is already taking giant steps in that direction.

Steve blinks several times until he is sure he will not start crying right here and straightens as he looks back at Stark. He almost takes a double-take because Stark’s smile has morphed into something far sadder, almost longing. He does not wipe it away when he notices Steve’s attention on him.

With a solemn nod, he says, “I’m really sorry, Mr. –”

Steve hesitates, long enough to fluster Stark. He is aware of Peter’s pleading eyes, though, so he decides to give Stark the benefit of the doubt. “Steve Rogers. You already know my son, Peter.”

He offers his hand out of habit and is surprised by the strength of Stark’s grip. He never expects much from the suit-wearing types. Especially not the ones Peter practically worships. One of them has to be prepared for the disappointment that inevitably follows.

“Call me Tony,” Stark says as if there is room for familiarity between them. Steve already knows he will ignore it. “How about that coffee? I’d love to hear more about Peter’s ideas.” With a small wink towards Peter, he adds, “Is he too young to offer an internship to?”

“No,” Peter calls, even when Steve throws him a warning glance. “I’m ready.”

Stark’s gall tastes bitter when Steve swallows. At the same time, he cannot help but find his daring intriguing. It reminds him of how Bucky was before they enlisted.

“I’m not sure, Mr. Stark,” Steve answers, deciding to ignore the last thing Stark said. “We haven’t seen everything here yet.”

He is polite mostly for Peter’s sake because he can only imagine the disappointment if he tells Stark no outright.

Peter has learned a thing or two from Natasha, though, and says with practiced innocence, “I’d like to sit down for a bit.”

That seals it. How could Steve deny Peter the chance for a break away from the humdrum of the expo when they both know exactly that he would like to get out of there for a while too?

Stark must recognise the shift in tensions and nods grandly with a smile. “Great, come on. I’ll get you the best coffee this place has to offer.” His expression holds no smugness but looks like he is really just happy Peter could convince Steve.

Steve does not believe it for a second but takes Peter’s hand nonetheless and falls into step with Stark.

They walk to a door in the side wall, labelled Personnel only, which Stark breezes through, leaving them no other choice but to follow. Immediately, it becomes easier for Steve to breathe. The chatter of the crowd behind them cuts off, giving way to the soft echo of their steps on the concrete floor and the faint scent of metal and cleaning supplies in the air. The hallway is narrow but widens soon into a series of open rooms, stacked with supplies. They are alone here, meeting only a few harried looking assistants hurrying through the space.

Their destination is a small employee kitchen, tucked into the side of a bigger room that is holding what looks to be several half-assembled machines and robots. Even Steve feels the urge to ask about them, having to shake the sensation that he stepped into the future here. Stark navigates the place like there is nothing to it, like he spends all of his days surrounded by this kind of tech. Perhaps he does.

The doctors and technicians they met while fitting Bucky for his prosthetic all had the utmost respect for Stark, which is, in Steve’s experience, not always the case with one’s CEO. The Hammer Industries’ employees were mostly practiced at rolling their eyes.

“We’ve got juice, soda or water,” Stark says as he waltzes into the kitchen, filling the entire room with his lively presence, turning what has been an unremarkable, compact space into something bright. “And coffee for you, Mr. Rogers?”

Steve nods absentmindedly as he puts down their things and watches Peter take a seat. Too late he thinks he should offer Stark to use his first name too if only because Stark was so eager to do it himself. He refrains from it, still not so sure they should even be here.

“Apple juice, please,” Peter says and sits down without hesitation. That ease is enviable but also worries Steve.

Much slower, he follows suit and then watches as Stark pushes different buttons on the coffee machine without even looking at it while getting out two cups and a glass with the other hand. That speaks of long practice and familiarity with the machine. Either Stark spent most of the preparation time for the expo in here, drinking coffee, or he made sure the employee kitchen has a decent machine. Steve is not sure what to do with that piece of information.

After serving their drinks, Stark sits down too. For a brief moment, a tense silent engulfs them, sealing their mouths shut with breathless expectation of what will happen next. At least Steve feels that way as his eyes meet Stark’s across the small table.

Then Peter slurps in his haste to drink before he puts down the glass with a sharp clang, excitement making him careless. That breaks the tension as Stark turns towards Peter.

“Have you ever built a robot yourself?” Stark asks, still giving no sign that he has any ulterior motive other than simply talking to Peter.

Peter, in any case, breaks into quick-paced chatter, determined to make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime chance of meeting the Tony Stark.

It turns out that Steve’s input is not actually needed much. Peter looks at him every now and then as if to make sure he is still there, and the brightness of Stark’s smile is nothing compared to the animated way he talks. His eyes are wrinkling with mirth and his hands fly through the air, drawing the shape of things Steve has never heard of. He always waits for Peter to finish a thought before talking himself.

Steve cannot help but be charmed. He almost even regrets the way he laid into Stark earlier. Almost. Peter’s safety still means more than social niceties. But this is a man who knows how to listen, and who apparently does not care that he is talking to a child. Where other people might praise Peter’s intellect and then turn away, intimidated by someone much younger and smarter than them, Stark appears to really enjoy himself. Despite their unfortunate first meeting, Steve is endeared by that.

He lets them talk, listening to them without taking in the specifics. While he keeps an eye on Stark’s demeanour, ready to get Peter and himself out of there at the slightest hint of a change to the worse, he is glad to have time to just breathe. Away from the crowd, from having to follow Peter’s way through the hall, expecting danger from all sides.

Compared to Bucky, Steve integrated himself back into civilian life with ease. That was mostly thanks to Peggy, so it might not be surprising that he is deteriorating without her.  

“You weren’t here yesterday, yes?” Stark asks at some point, obviously including Steve into the question, which snaps Steve back into the present. “Shame, the opening speeches were great, lots of fireworks and new projects.”

Peter’s eyes go wide, then he glances at Steve while biting his lips. “Dad doesn’t like fireworks very much,” he says with audible protectiveness, but Steve also hears the hint of regret at having missed out on something grand. “Or many people in once place.”

“Peter,” Steve says quietly and swallows a sigh. It does not do to announce his weaknesses to the world like that, even though he does not care what Stark thinks of him, of course.

He wishes now he would have let Clint take Peter the day before as was offered, despite his worries that the opening day would be too chaotic, too easily pushed into a disaster.

“I understand,” Stark says, looking at Steve like he truly does, no pity in his eyes, but with a slight grimace as if in remembrance. “Well, then it’s probably good you’ve come today. Although there are still a lot of people here.”

The concern in Stark’s voice is too much. He is a stranger and something like a celebrity. What does he understand of Steve’s problems? Steve keeps his mouth shut, though. He realises he does not always react appropriately when it comes to sore subjects.

“He promised to tell me when he needs to leave.” Leaning forward, Peter adds in a conspiratorial whisper, “I don’t think he will, though. Because I’ve wanted to come here forever.”

Peter knows too much. Perhaps that is due to growing up with loss clinging to them, or because he is smarter than his peers. Steve would not change his son for the world, but he aches for him nonetheless, for that innocence he is already lacking.

“Then it’s my lucky day,” Stark says with an earnestness that Steve cannot find a fault with, no matter how hard he is looking.

Peter giggles and then they are off on another tangent that Steve follows only superficially because he is busy watching Stark’s face. As far as Steve can tell, he does not just pretend his interest in what Peter has to tell. His face lights up while talking and it is easy to see ideas forming behind his eyes even while he listens to everything Peter has to say.

Steve does not trust it one bit. As head of Stark Industries’ R&D department, Stark must be surrounded by brilliant people all day, people he can talk about actual science with instead of listening to the excited rambling of a child. This is no doubt a dream come true for Peter, but Steve cannot help but wait for the other shoe to drop.

“I could give you a tour of our research labs at some point,” Stark says, much to Steve’s chagrin. It will be impossible to get that wish out of Peter’s head again. “We’re always glad to have some bright minds over.”

With all this talk about robots and science, and meeting one of his heroes, it should be impossible for Peter to become even more excited. But there he is, his spine shooting straight and he whirls his head around to Steve, eyes gleaming with sudden want.

“Can we, Dad?” he asks, almost breathless as if he is imagining running towards Stark Tower this very moment. “That would be the greatest thing ever.”

Steve knows he has to refuse. If he were to agree and then this never happens, because Stark is obviously just being nice and will forget about them the moment they step out of the door, Peter would be crushed.

“I’m not sure,” Steve says and immediately cursing himself for being unable to break his son’s heart. It should not be so hard to say no. “I’d have to see whether it fits in my schedule.”

Stark’s expression changes minutely. If Steve had not been looking at him, he would have missed it. For just a moment, his smile turns strained and his eyes stray to something only he can see. Just a second later, he is back in the present like nothing happened, his smile bright again.

“The offer stands,” Stark says, voice full of cheer that sounds genuine despite the momentary lapse in composure.

This is the time to go, Steve realises, as long as Stark is still interested instead of throwing glances at the clock and decides they have overstayed their welcome. As long as this is still a pleasant experience for everyone.

“Thank you for the coffee,” Steve says as he gets to his feet, managing a companionable tone despite his doubts of Stark’s motives.

To his surprise, Peter does not protest. Then again, Peter already knows that nothing lasts forever. He might be disappointed that his time with Stark is coming to an end already, but he has learned to be happy with what he gets. It hurts that his son has had to learn that lesson already. Losing his mother does that to a child.

“I have to thank you for the stimulating conversation,” Stark says with a flourish as he gets up too and offers his hand to Peter, who takes it with all the unbridled enthusiasm of a child performing an inherently adult ritual.

Making a split-second decision, Steve turns towards his son, and says, “Why don’t you run ahead, Peter. I’ll be right behind you.”

He sees Peter’s hesitation, sees that Peter knows exactly that this is code for I want to talk without you listening in. Still, he does not protest but walks off with a wave and a last, brilliant smile.

Stark knows too what is going on. They are watching Peter vanish down the hall before Steve nods at the way and starts walking slowly. He notices that Stark’s expression has become more cautious and takes that as validation for taking him aside.

“Why are you doing this?” Steve asks, diving right in. He does not believe in subterfuge.

It might be because Steve is looking for a negative reaction, but he sees Stark’s shoulders stiffening and sees it as an admission of guilt.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Stark says, no bite in his tone. His gaze is sharp, however, when he directs it at Steve. “Why do I organise such a big expo and then don’t make my company the main contributor? Why am I spending time backstage instead of flashing my smile on a stage somewhere? Why –”

“Why did you take the time to come back here with us?” Steve interrupts. He has neither the patience nor the temperament for these games. “You must have more pressing things to do than to talk science on an elementary school level.”

Stark leans slightly away from him, almost offended. Then he realises what he is doing and smooths his expression into something neutral but cool. Considering how freely he has given his smiles up to this point, Steve feels a strange loss.

“First off, your son is way beyond elementary school,” Stark says curtly, leaving no doubt that he means it. “I’m not saying you should make him skip grades because look how that turned out for me, but he would definitely do well with some extracurricular classes.”

That sounded almost self-deprecating, Steve notices that even over the glow of hearing his son complimented. He is a simple man and his family is the most important thing in the world for him. Yet, it immediately rankles him to hear Stark talk about himself like that, if only in hints.

“And why I’m here instead of getting sore wrists from shaking hands with all those important people out there? This,” Stark continues and gestures at their surroundings, the robot parts and the expo beyond. “This is my day job. Organising projects and talking to people who are more than convinced of their own genius. The science always comes in second place.” He pauses, his eyes dark and earnest on Steve. “Children are different. They are still excited to learn new things, to learn the way of the world. It is nice to talk to someone who still cares about the things I love.”

He sounds honest. If the public estimation of Stark’s genius is correct, he might remember what it was like as a child to always be talked down to by adults, even when he probably knew more than them.

Steve finds he wants to believe Stark. Yet, he crosses his arms in front of him. “That sounds like a nonsense sob story.”

He regrets his words the moment he watches Stark withdraw. Even without the smile, Stark had been open with Steve, engaged in a way that disappears immediately as his expression shutters closed. Suddenly, the skin of Stark’s face seems too tight as it becomes a mask of polite disinterest. It feels like an acute loss.

“Then you’ve never sat through a budgeting meeting where people tell you we can’t make certain improvements to, say, our prosthetic line because that would cost too much money,” Stark says coolly, then clicks his tongue in impatient disappointment. “Helping others has become as much of a profit-seeking business as anything else.”

The air between them is now tense and awkward. Steve stands by his decision to question Stark’s motives but is thoroughly uncomfortable with the result. Compared to the person standing before him now, it seems ridiculous that he thought Stark’s interactions with Peter were not honest.

“Thank you for sitting down with Peter,” Steve says, knowing he cannot salvage the situation but wanting to offer an olive branch, anyway. He does not like being cruel, but it feels like he crushed Stark.

“It was my pleasure,” Stark answers. “And do think about having that tour.”

Steve will not, but he does not say that. Stark appears to be genuine, but that does not mean Steve will abandon all sense. Nothing good can come of nursing Peter’s hopes only to have Stark forget about them the moment they walk out of that door.

He is surprised when Stark offers his hand again but takes it nonetheless. As he walks out, he decides to take this as a good thing, a positive experience for Peter.

By the time the door falls shut behind him, he is convinced he will never see Tony Stark again.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hey. Do you know any fics where both Derek and Stiles are in like deputies or in the FBI and they're like partners? Basically something along those lines. Thanks!

I got you! Deputy!Derek and Deputy!Stiles. - Anastasia

A Start by Inell 

(1/1 I 1,458 I Teen)

Derek’s acting like a jealous boyfriend. The only issue? He and Stiles aren’t dating.

those who argue, like each other by har1ey_quinn

(1/1 I 1,615 I Teen)

“Don’t give me that look.”

“I’m not giving you any look.”

Even to John that sounds like a lie, and he doesn’t have those super senses to tell him when someone is lying.

“Sure you are, that’s Frowny Face Number Two. It’s patented and everything.”

Oh boy, John knows that face.

Frowny Face Number Two meant Derek is sticking to what he’s saying because he believes it is right and Stiles should just agree with him and be quiet.

Hot and Bothered (but mostly just bothered) by kitsunequeen

(1/1 I 2,305 I General)

"You're the newbie in the station, and damn you're hot, bUT DID YOU JUST ARREST MY SIBLING?" au

------

“You could’ve let me know,” Derek says. “That’s kind of what we do around here.”

“Not like I have your phone number,” Stiles points out, raising an eyebrow in a way that’s most definitely a challenge.

Oh, great. The new guy wants to prove how cool he is by mouthing off to someone’s who’s been around longer. Fun.

“Well, Deputy, you have a radio, don’t you? And if you were interested in calling, every other guy here does have my number.”

“Well, aren’t you just Mr. Popular!”

begin again by bleep0bleep

(1/1 I 2,501 I Teen)

Ten years ago Derek turned down Stiles for prom.

Now it's high school reunion time.

Just a Hobby by kaistrex (weishen)

(1/1 I 3,009 I Teen)

Five times Deputy Derek shelters his partner from the world of the supernatural and the one time he discovers he’s just been making a fool of himself.

An Excellent Addition by dragon_temeraire

(1/1 I 4,117 I Explicit I Stiles/Derek/Parrish)

Jordan raises his eyebrows when he sees them. “Is this an intervention?” he asks cautiously.

“Nope,” Stiles says, shoving his elbow into Derek’s side before he can say anything. “This is a proposition.”

Fantasy Come True by Inell

(1/1 I 7,412 I Explicit)

Derek and Stiles are always fulfilling fantasies off of Stiles' Bucket List of Fantasies, but Derek's always too shy to admit any of his. One night, Stiles finally finds out something Derek really wants to do. He enlists the help of Jackson to make Derek's fantasy come true.

The One Where They Become Parents by JR Granger (JR_Granger)

(1/1 I 10,557 I Teen)

Stiles and Derek head out to the Preserve to check out a territory perimeter breach. Next thing they know there's a kid and she keeps calling them Daddy and Papa.

The Adventures of Ranger Rookie and Deputy Dork by shipNslash

(1/1 I 12,391 I Teen)

When the Sheriff tells Stiles that he's getting a partner, he's not exactly thrilled. How is he supposed to keep his magic a secret with some rookie stuck in his cruiser all day?

When Derek's mother decides to move the pack back to Beacon Hills, he looks forward to joining the local police force. Less so to hiding his werewolf-iness from some poor, unsuspecting partner.

Derek is assigned to be Stiles' new partner at the Sheriff's Department. One is a mage and the other is a werewolf. Neither knows what the other can do. What could possibly go wrong?

No Refunds or Exchanges by badwolfbadwolf

(1/1 I 18,196 I Mature)

Stiles is the newest deputy in the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department, and has maybe just been a little in love with Derek Hale since Stiles had made a fool of himself in front of him at the SD summer picnic a few years ago. Being married to him—only for the sake of not getting deported—is going to suck in new and unusual ways.

I Long for Your Embrace by pterawaters

(1/1 I 24,913 I Explicit I Stiles/Derek/Parrish)

Derek never imagined himself joining the Sheriff's Department, but after living with Kyle Parrish for long enough, the idea starts to grow on him.

Stiles isn't exactly sure what he wants out of life, but he knows that it isn't a college degree or being away from the people he loves. The solution he comes up with will hopefully bring him back home. Too bad it doesn't do anything for his dead-in-the-water love life.

Of Eclipses, Ley Lines, and Full Shift Werewolves by tabbytabbytabby

(7/7 I 26,981 I Teen)

Derek has been noticing his control slipping in the days leading up to the Solar Eclipse. When he goes to look over the Hale land with Peter something happens, forcing both him and Peter to shift into full wolves. Stiles finds them, discovering that Derek has been changed into a wolf pup with none of his memories, only able to recognize people by their scent. After a talk with Deaton Stiles discovers there are ley lines in Beacon Hills, specifically on the Hale property, which caused Derek and Peter to shift. Unfortunately for them there's nothing they can do to reverse it except sit and wait. Which is easier said than done when none of the pack can understand why Derek only wants to be around Stiles.

See Me The Way That I Am by HappyJuicyfruit

(6/6 I 28,616 I Teen)

10 years after a shared traumatic experience Stiles and Derek are forced to work on a case together that has them questioning themselves, and their relationship.

--

“Okay, you keep saying that, but we both know you aren’t going to let me go alone, and we also both know I’m going if the fate of the world is in danger. Which, by the way, you should care about too. Since you’re a cop and all that.” Stiles smacked him on the chest, giving him a disapproving look.

Derek rolled his eyes, “I don’t trust them. We aren’t going.”

“I trust them. I’m going.” Stiles stared at him with determination. Derek was used to Stiles talking back, but not like this… this was something new. He had never flat out disagreed with Derek before.

Derek didn’t think he liked it.

A Pirate's Life For Me by Hepzheba for wolffffflock (Hun__Sher)

(12/12 I 42,609 I Explicit)

The Sheriff's department of Beacon Hills is finally getting a K-9 unit. Stiles is thrilled. Well, he would have been if he had remembered that they were starting today. He wishes someone had reminded him. He also wishes someone had informed him that his new colleague and the one who's going to help them start the K9 unit is smokin' hot. Or that is new partner in form of a dog kind of lives to disobey him.If this doesn’t work out he hopes his dad will write him a letter of recommendation to a department somewhere in Alaska.

There are no real pirates in this story.

[meggannn]

anyway here’s where i stand on the whole ‘peter b as miles’s father figure’ thing. behind a cut cause this got long and spoilers for spiderverse obviously

there’s a very accurate post going around that says ‘miles didnt need a father figure, peter needed a son figure’ and i think that's pithy enough to sum it up, but i had more thoughts about their dynamic as i rewatch it. in another universe (hah) i might say ‘a kid can have two father figures’ and miles clearly has a big enough heart to love jefferson, aaron, and peter all as positive male figures in his life, but the underlying theme that people much smarter than me have rightfully pointed out is that replacing, or even adding, peter to miles’s list of father figures reduces the importance of a black father already in miles’s life and quite frankly, they make it clear that miles isn’t looking to view peter b as a dad figure anyway. honestly i’d even argue that peter doesn’t really view miles as a son even by the end, but more like a favorite protégé and close friend

we can presume miles goes to aaron so much (“has a soft spot” for aaron, as his dad says) because he feels disconnected from his dad. they quickly establish aaron is his go-to adult figure for whenever he’s feeling lost or confused or stressed or just needs someone to listen and not judge, because uncle aaron, with no spouse or kids, has the freedom to be the cool uncle miles gets to do fun things with. graffiti is illegal, yes, but aaron is a master at supporting his nephew in a way miles wants to be supported: uncle aaron looks at and compliments and supports his art, uncle aaron teaches him how to talk to girls, we can probably presume uncle aaron is also where miles got his love of music and his punching bag is probably where miles learned the boxing stance he takes up when noir challenges him later on

i believe that miles WANTS to go to his dad with all of the things he goes to aaron with -- i think he almost calls his dad after leaving may’s house before getting discouraged by his stern voicemail -- but scenes like the car drive to school show miles that his dad won’t listen when he voices his insecurities and worries. it’s not for lack of love there, but he’s terrified of his dad’s disapproval and restrictions of the life he chooses to live. by the end of the end of the film this fear is, if not completely alleviated, definitely rectified a little -- miles knows his dad supports his art, and that officer jefferson davis supports spiderman even if he doesn’t approve of his methods, and that’s enough for him

peter b also won’t -- and can’t -- replace aaron. peter b only really becomes a solidified mentor figure for miles in the forest escape. that’s not to say miles didn’t like peter b, he still clearly thought highly of him and was desperate/excited to learn from a spiderman, but only does he really see what peter b can offer him when peter teaches him how to swing through positive reinforcement (peter telling miles to stay behind, getting upset he followed him into the vent, hissing at him to “just unstick!! they’re gonna see you!!” just frustrates and stresses miles out. miles wants to feel useful and included and supported, like aaron makes him feel).

miles is impressionable: he copies RIPeter’s move in the final battle to get up to the ceiling panel. he copies aaron when aaron climbs the fence and during the infamous shoulder-touch with gwen, and he copies peter b during the alchemex heist several times: mimics that cute chin-grab scene as they scout alchemex, (tries to) copy the elegant swing as peter climbs down from the ceiling, notably uses peter’s thwips, and finally he copies peter VERY fast on positional movement as they fly through the forest: miles’s legs swing wildly at first but within seconds he’s mimicking peter’s flying crouch-bounce. only after seeing how well peter b works in demonstration does he say “you’re amazing man!”

there’s not too much he copies his dad about though, because he thinks he and his dad have nothing in common. by the end of the movie it’s clear to him that even though they don’t share hobbies or interests or even have the same outlook on the world, his dad still loves him very much, and is willing to bend to meet his son halfway, which is all miles wanted him to do from the beginning. miles now has what he wants from his father; he doesn’t need peter to fill that role for him, or even be another father for him. something tells me miles would laugh peter back into his dimension if peter ever tried to father him

of course the biggest thing that convinced me is that peter b stopped believing in miles, right when miles needed support the most. he’d just lost his uncle, the best male role model in his life, and loses another one soon after when peter b ties him up and leaves him in his dorm. it’s jefferson’s unconditional love and support (and miles knows jeff believes miles doesn’t reciprocate) that gives miles the strength he needs to come into his own.

(tangent: for the record, i don’t blame peter b really -- or the rest of the spidergang -- because the stakes were high and miles clearly WASN’T ready to face kingpin after losing his uncle. i see it as the spidergang trying to protect miles from not getting killed, yes, but also from not having to fight so soon after losing his uncle. it wasn’t miles’s fault he wasn’t ready, and it was the responsible thing for peter b to do to sacrifice himself to save the others as the oldest of the crew (even if he was using it as an excuse to avoid going back home) but still, not what miles needed at that moment in time. miles needed to feel useful and that he could still help fulfill the promise he gave to RIPeter, even if he wasn’t the one to put the goober in. peter b kind of took the choice from him, said it was for his own good, and left miles lonelier than he’s ever been -- and just when he though he’d lost the support of every adult figure in his life, his father comes back into the picture. miles realizes he always had that support, but he needs to stop wavering on the fence and face his fears: will he move backwards or forwards? will he commit to this school or self-sabotage by flunking and skipping just to go back where he’s more comfortable? will he accept his role as a superhero or live a normal life? will he stay in his bedroom while his friends are in danger or stand up so someone doesn’t have to die?)

tbh the kicker for me is that even in the end, well after miles sees peter b as someone to look up to instead of just tolerate, it’s pretty clear from their interactions that miles sees peter like a friend/spidermentor/occasional life coach, and peter treats miles like a close mentee and dear friend. that’s different from the relationship miles wants from his dad, and still different from the relationship miles had with aaron (though close enough that you might be able to argue peter b steps up to fill another uncle role in miles’s life post-canon; aaron and peter b have similar traits in how they’re single adult men who can get away with being reckless and a little lawless because they have no one to hurt but themselves)

each of miles’s relationships with the men in his life are unique and none of them really replace or are in jeopardy of overlapping with each other. he has the capacity to love all of them in his own way, and does. and anyway that’s where i stand on that.

i feel like i could write another post entirely on why peter b isnt a father figure because he hasn’t really (yet) done the growth necessary to be one (he’s depressed, stuck in a mid-life crisis, and has begun to hate his dangerous, unpredictable, unquittable job that compromises every relationship in his life -- he can’t be a father! he’s barely taking care of himself!), which is why stepping into this role as miles’s mentor/uncle-ish figure is the best thing that could’ve happened to him if he wants to fully realize his potential in this next chapter of his life. but i digress.

[samwrights]

Homesick // Finale

Summary: Tony and Pepper’s daughter Madelyn just graduated from Midtown School of Science and Technology. Without her parents knowledge, she managed to land an internship with her dad’s business to keep her busy over the summer and to prepare her for what she wants to do with her future. But she isn’t the only one with a Stark Enterprises internship—and now she’s stuck working with some overly excited ongoing sophomore named Peter Parker.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Pairing: Stark!Daughter x Peter (OC) Words: 3,900 Loop: Forever//Over // EDEN Left Hand Free // Alt-J

Endless nights, we were infinite. Summer’s end would mean the death of us. VIII.

As promised, Elly and Peter never talked about the impending end of their relationship. Instead, they did their best to fulfill a makeshift bucket list to count down the days until Elly’s birthday. Each day, internship or not, was filled with a brand new adventure. They were such simple things like a movie marathon for an entire twenty four hours or going to the beach or a concert together. Elly’s birthday was the following day, her first week of college was on Monday, and every second that they spent together was not enough. Both of them were afraid of the conversation that needed to happen, but Peter refused to let it ruin the dinner plans he made for her tonight. Even so, he couldn’t stop fidgeting with the watch on his left wrist as he waited for Elly, Tony, and much to his surprise, Pepper at the table. According to Elly, she had finally gathered the courage to call her mother and convince her to come back to the Tower in small doses.

Pepper and Tony finally had talked things out, agreeing that being together was what their little family needed, and that had helped Elly substantially. Even with such great things happening with her family and her happiness, Peter felt it almost wasn’t his place to be included as a contribution. Because even as wonderful as the last three months had been, they both knew it would all end with the summer. May noticed how much he was fussing around with whatever he could get his hands on, causing concern in her to arise. “Peter, everything okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” He mumbled, not making eye contact with her.

“You don’t fool me, you know.” Peter groaned internally, knowing his aunt wouldn’t let up. Either that, or his anxiety was gnawing at him so much that he wanted to believe his aunt was going to pressure him into talking about it.

“I-I’m not ready for today to be over. Because after this, her internship is over and Elly and I are going to be over a-and that scares me. I have spent seventy two days with Elly from sunrise to sunset and I don’t know what I’m going to do after today. She’s become such a normal part of my day to day life that I-I don’t know if I can go back to being normal after this.” Before he had realized it, he was crying. He wanted to say so much more, but words were failing at conveying how he really felt. May looked at her nephew, sympathetic of his breaking heart.

“Peter, it doesn’t matter how many days it has been. It’s, um...” May paused, treading cautiously with her next words. “It’s dangerous, to create homes out of people—to feel like you are only your best self when you are with that person. I know that better than anyone. Because when they’re gone, it will always feel like you’re homesick.” A single tear slid down May’s cheek as well, her late husband’s face flashing through her memories. On the one hand, she was glad she was able to share her expertise on the subject. On the other, she had almost wished Peter never had to feel as homesick as she did. “But I will tell you one thing. In my experience, it’s impossible to not create homes out of the people you love.” The ‘L word’ hit Peter hard, his eyes wide open as he gawked at May. But he didn’t rebuttal because he knew she was right.

Seventy two days, not including the week he had spent in Germany apart of from her, was all it took for Peter to fall in love with Elly. Seventy two days of her smile, her laugh, her smarts, her wit, her composure, her presence, and her vulnerability. He was homesick already.

The Stark family finally arrived, each of them dressed to the nines. Elly was glowing and all smiles as she greeted May and gave Peter a brief peck on the lips that ended all too quickly. All five of them were gathered at the round table, with Peter on Elly’s left hand side and her dad to her right. Joyous giggles filled their group as she talked about how excited she was to start her classes at Empire State University. Her enthusiasm simultaneously filled Peter with both dread and pride. Throughout the night, May was playing double agent. She was trying to show support to Elly in her journey into college, but also kept a close eye on Peter to make sure his heart didn’t shatter.

As dessert arrived, Peter felt his internal clock ticking down the minutes and he hated every second of it. Still, his facade never slipped as he celebrated his soon to be ex-girlfriend’s blowing of her birthday candles. The evening was coming to a close, and to prolong it by just mere minutes, Peter excused himself to the washroom to gather his thoughts before everyone went their separate ways. Nobody thought anything of it, and nobody thought anything of it when Tony excused himself as well short after. Upon entering the men’s room, he saw Peter splashing water on his face, taking note of his swollen eyes. “You got a second, kid?”

“Uh, yeah.” Peter tried to sound put together in front of his boss, making his voice just a bit deeper. But, judging by the unsettled look on Tony’s face, he wasn’t succeeding.

“I just want to say you have made my daughter so incredibly happy this past summer. But you know what’s coming, and I need to get something off my chest.” Subconsciously, he tapped on his arc reactor. “Don’t ever stop choosing Elly.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me. I had to break my own kid’s heart after we got back from Germany and tell her her own uncle chose an old friend over family—over her. I know you guys have to do this because of age of consent and all, but don’t ever stop choosing her.”

“M-Mr. Stark? I-I don’t...I don’t understand.” Tony sighed, unsure of how to phrase his words to properly convey the message he wanted to give.

“Things are going to be mess, kid. And it’s going to be really hard for a while. But if you love my daughter like she loves you, choose to make decisions with her well-being in mind, even after tonight.” With that, Tony exited the restroom, leaving Peter awestruck. He would be lying if he said he completely understood his boss’ words. But he didn’t question it and, instead, focused on keeping those words close to his soul. Don’t ever stop choosing her.

Peter had felt his heart grow heavier as he returned to the table. Pepper and Tony were giving Elly elegantly wrapped gift boxes, which she gladly opened. May put a hand on Peter’s shoulder as they watched—instantly noticing his ashen face. “She will love it.” May whispered in encouragement. In response, he grabbed her hand with one his and squeezed it. If it weren’t for aunt May today, or any other day really, he wasn’t sure would be able to handle this situation. Pepper and Tony had given Elly a short diamond necklace paired with a black velvet choker with matching diamond studs. Though small and simple, the gesture made Peter’s gift feel insignificant. But he did what he could to not let that thought bother him. His gift had sentimental value and he knew Elly well enough to know she would appreciate it.

Dinner had officially come to a close and each person had went their separate ways, save for Peter and Elly. “Hey, can we take a drive to the pier?” He asked after their families were nowhere in sight. Elly raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Usually, I’m the one asking you that, but sure thing.” It was quiet as they got into her car and while Elly knew something was wrong, she couldn’t bring herself to ask him what. As they started driving, the radio playing different songs that rang somber and neither of them could tell if A.A.R.O.N had been doing so intentionally. Elly’s hand strayed from the steering wheel to hold his as an offering of comfort. Still, they say in silence until they arrived at the pier where they had their first kiss. “Okay, what’s wrong, Peter?” She finally asked. He let go of her hand and turned to face his girlfriend while shuffling around in his pocket. He pulled out a tiny navy blue velvet box.

“I-I didn’t get you anything super amazing for your birthday, but I think it’s time we finally have our talk.” Nerves that Elly had long forgotten filled her gut. With both hands, he peeled open the velvet box, revealing a thin rose gold ring with a small pearl set in the center. It looked incredibly delicate—something to reflect the current state of their relationship.

“O-okay.” She hesitated.

“Elly, we have spent exactly seventy nine days in a relationship a-and they have been the most incredible seventy nine days. But knowing the world knows who your dad is, I-I don’t want any trouble to ever come to you in the event that the public discovered I’m not the legal age of consent yet.” Elly nodded very slowly, taking in his words. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she feared for the same. She was afraid of people finding out who she was and finding any spec of dirt to some form of revenge against her dad. She couldn’t do that to him. “But I wanted to give you this.” He says finally, holding her left hand with his right, the ring in his other.

“I-it’s beautiful, Peter.” Elly says in a hushed mumble as he slides the small ring on.

“I wanted to make a promise to you. I promise I will always protect you and be here for you. And the second I turn seventeen, I will come running back.”

“R-really?” After placing the promise ring onto her finger, Peter cupped her cheek gingerly before pulling her into a deep kiss. It was delicate and fragile and full of the goodbyes that he didn’t want to say.

“I don’t want this to be the end, Elly. I really don’t.”

“I don’t either.” Peter rested his forehead onto hers with his eyes scrunched his eyes close. Slowly, they opened to stare longingly into her blue eyes. He didn’t want to do this; he wasn’t ready. How was Peter supposed to come home everyday, knowing that he didn’t spend the entirety of his day surrounded by her warmth and support of him getting stronger? Elly was mirroring every emotion that was running through his head as tears spilled along her cheeks. While moving onto college was well and exciting, what was she supposed to come home to without him there? With trembling lips, she pulled him in for what she hoped wasn’t their last kiss. Tiny gasps of air broke their lip lock as she sobbed, but neither of them dared to move away. They needed every millisecond of this last moment.

Elly threaded shaky fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, desperate to hang onto him. Their tongues laced with each other, pouring their passion into one another. Neither of them wanted to pull away, but before they said their goodbyes, she needed to tell him. “Peter, I-I love you.” She sniffled, wiping away her tears before holding his hands. The glint of the pearl on her ring finger caught the light of the pier.

“I love you, Madelyn Joyce Stark.” He took a leap of faith, saying those three little words he never dared to say before. But he needed to say it—he needed her to know. “In ten months, when we can finally be together again, I will come running home to you. I promise.”

Two months had passed since Elly’s eighteenth birthday and her and Peter had hardly spoken. College was okay, but she felt herself overwhelmed with seventeen semester hours, trying to social while commuting to school daily, and had the fortunately unfortunate task of creating a new suit for Peter per the request of her dad. She had made one friend so far in university—a spunky boy whom was also a freshman by the name of Scott Price. His relaxed attitude that accompanied both of their high stress responses to their work load had made the two of them get along exceptionally well. He was the only comfort she had since Peter had kept their contact to minimum. Pete always said he was working on a project with Ned or out on his internship, which she knew was true since she had seen local papers of the mysterious Spider-Man. Elly had also found out from her dad about Peter’s entire encounter with Vulture. That conversation ended up leading to the heartbreaking information of finding out that Peter was briefly dating now senior and Vulture’s daughter, Liz Toomes, before she ended up moving to the other end of the country. Elly remembered Liz. She was beautiful and smart and popular and it was no wonder Peter fell for her. That never stopped betrayal from poisoning Elly’s heart.

At the moment, Elly and Scott were sitting at a coffee shop on campus working on their chemistry assignment. They were griping over getting different answers despite using the same formula, or rather Elly was essentially tutoring him. After they both arrived to the correct answer, Elly’s phone rang her usual tone of Alt-J’s ‘Left Hand Free’. Her mom’s name flashed on the screen. “Hey mom, what’s up?”

“Hey, honey. What time are you going to be home tonight? Your dad and I are calling a press conference.”

“Oh, I can be home as soon as you need me to. What’s the press conference for?”

“Your dad is introducing Peter as the world’s newest avenger.” Elly went quiet as her heart throbbed in envy.

“Understood, mom.” She responded quietly before cutting off the call as to prevent her emotions from getting loose. Her best friend took an immediate notice.

“Everything okay?” The tall brunette asked.

“Y-yeah, I just have to get home for some important meeting.” She lied. This time around, the administration knew of who Madelyn was, but the student body was still completely oblivious and Scott was no exception to that. “I’ll see you tomorrow in chem?”

“For sure, get home safe!” Scott was all smiles, and it put Elly at temporary ease. She got into her car and headed straight home to the brand new, relocated Avenger’s Tower in upstate New York, trying to focus on controlling her fidgeting instead of focusing on her nerves. It was the first time she would be seeing Peter since their break up and their lack of communication made her anxious. As soon as she got home, Elly went straight to her room to get ready for the press conference. Granted, she always sat in the front row and never went on stage. On rare occasions, she would do damage control and fake being a reporter but she was hoping she could stay far away from that tonight.

After doing her make up and pulling half of her wavy brown hair up, Elly dressed in a black halter skater dress with an open back and white pumps. She needed to slay the press conference today, if only for herself. She took the elevator up towards the floor the third to the top—a floor that was mostly used for meetings. “Oh, there you are, honey!” Pepper called out, clipboard in hand, as she went to hug her daughter.

“Hey, mom. Where’s dad?”

“He is—“

“Right here!” Tony called out, walking up to the ladies of his life with arms wide open. He gave his daughter a peck on her temple before giving Pepper a kiss to her lips. It made Elly happy to see her parents getting along again, but it was only enough to temporarily distract her. “Stark family, ready to rock?” Pepper gave a laugh before heading back to the conference room, Elly in tow. More footsteps came thudding through the hall and Elly knew it had to be Peter. “Oh, there they are!” She heard her dad say, causing her to walk with more ferocity. But he saw her. Only a glimpse, but he saw her. He wanted to chase after her, but Tony stopped him by repeatedly patting his shoulder before wrapping an arm around him. He apologized for taking away the original Spider-Man suit or something or other, but Peter would be lying if he said he was listening.

“Mr. Stark, I really—“

“You screwed the pooch, hard, on this one, but then you did the right thing.” For some reason, Peter felt that Tony wasn’t just talking about taking away the suit anymore. After a couple more poor analogies, he turned Peter slightly to face him more as they continued to walk towards the conference room. “I was wrong about you. I think with a little mentoring, you could be a real asset to the team.” With a couple more pats to his shoulder, Tony’s way of showing his daughter’s ex affection, he let the teenager go before opening the door to the conference room. As much as Tony refused to admit it, he had grown fond of the spider-ling over time.

“T-to the team?”

“Yeah, there’s about fifty reporters behind that door; real ones, not bloggers.” Tony said, clicking a few buttons on his watch, opening up a fake wall. “When you’re ready, why don’t you try that on? And I can officially introduce the world to the newest Avenger: Spider-Man” Peter’s eyes nearly fell out of his as he laid his eyes on a brand new Spider-Man suit. He began laughing nervously, mostly due to shock. It was stunning, he couldn’t stop staring—and he knew. He knew Elly had made it. He wasn’t sure how, but the intricate detailing, the shade of navy in the fabric had Madelyn Joyce Stark written all over it.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. But I’m-I’m good.”

“You’re...good? What do you mean, ‘you’re good’?”

“I-I-I mean would rather just stay on the ground, for a little while. You know, friendly, neighborhood, Spider-Man. Somebody’s got to look out for the little guy.”

“You turning me down?” Tony asked in disbelief, taking off his signature sunglasses. “Think about this. Look at that, look at the hard work Elly put into that suit, for you, kid. Last chance, yes or no?”

“No.” Peter replied all too quickly. At that moment, Tony couldn’t decide if he was proud of the kid or wanted to punch him in the face. His daughter had slaved over her newest creation, and he was denying her. He decided to go with the former and sucked in a breath.

“O-kay, then. Happy will, uh, take you home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. I’ll see you around.” Peter walked backwards to give him and Happy a brief moment, but his eyes never left the suit his ex-girlfriend made. His heart swelled with pride and guilt, but mostly guilt. Knowing her, she put her all into doing it despite him knowing she was hurt. He turned away finally, hearing the door shut. The door was shut.

Pepper popped out of the conference room, staring at Tony who’s face clearly showed a mixture of emotions. “Where’s the kid?” She asked, refusing to call him by name. While Tony was fond of him, Pepper wasn’t as much. Stupid kid broke her daughter’s heart. “Everybody’s waiting.”

“You know, he actually made a really mature choice again, just surprised the heck out of me.”

“Are you joking? I have a room full of people waiting for some big announcement, what are we going to tell them?” She seethed—how the hell Tony managed to screw up another press conference was beyond her.

“I got an idea. Go wait inside, I’ll be in there in a minute. And make sure Madelyn’s on stage for this one.” Pepper’s eyes widened. Their daughter was never on stage at a press conference. The look of disbelief did not go amiss. “Just go, I’ll be right there.” He reassured, pressing a quick kiss to Pepper’s forehead before she went back into the conference room grumbling to herself. “You still got that ring, Happy?”

“Are you kidding, I’ve been carrying this thing around for eight years!” His head of security responded excitedly, pulling out a black velvet box from his pocket.

“Perfect, it’s show time.” Together, Tony and Happy entered the noisy conference room, everyone instantly shouting out his name. He stood on the stage, giving a prompt wave to get everybody to quiet down. Happy stood to his right, Pepper and Elly to his left. “Thank you all, for being here today. I know everybody is expecting a big announcement and I don’t want to delay anyone any further. I’ve been delaying this announcement for eighteen years.” Confused murmurs began to buzz. Elly perked her head up, her dad’s speech taking a very unexpected turn. “I would love to introduce to the world, the daughter of Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts and myself—Madelyn Joyce Stark.” A spotlight fell onto Elly, making her stare around the room.

“H-hi.” She said quietly as her dad handed her a microphone. “I am the daughter of Pepper Potts and Tony Stark?” Elly fumbled around with words unsure of what to say and her parents knew it. Questions were firing rapidly at her, and she had no idea how to respond. Seeing her drowning at the attention, Tony took the microphone back.

“One more thing, before we take questions. I’ve been delaying something else that is long overdue.” He held the microphone in one hand as he got down on one knee, his eyes focused on Pepper. “Honey, I haven’t been a model boyfriend to you, but thanks to our wonderful, smart daughter—I want to prove to you that I will be a better husband. Hopefully I’m just as good of a husband as I am father. Virginia Potts, will you marry me?” Pepper’s mouth hung wide open as her, and her daughter’s, eyes both began to well with tears. A sniffle escaped her nose as she tried to hold back sobs of joy as she nodded over and over. Tony slid the ring he had held onto for all those years onto the finger of his bride-to-be before giving her a long kiss and hugging his family. A wave of confidence washed over Elly, the joy that was surging through her family was giving her strength to take the microphone from her dad.

“There you have it, folks. The Stark family. We will now take your questions!” Elly jeered, the room exploding with overlapping clamor. She was distracted by the all the talk as she held the microphone in her right hand and answering questions, all the while subconsciously spinning the rose gold promise ring on her finger. Nobody seemed to notice except for the lone, sixteen year old boy standing at the back of the room who had snuck his way into press conference. Peter had seen her. But more importantly, she saw him.

TAG LIST

@xxoerinnoxx @araeni @maddieisaacs @iwillbesmall-promise

I hope you all enjoyed this series! There will eventually be sequel, but until then, please check out my other works  >Here<  and check out the teaser I posted for my next series, titled The Game. First chapter will be posted THIS SATURDAY, July 14. I hope to see you all there!

xo Sam.

[whovianfeminism]

Reflecting on Grief

Forwards or Backwards? Earth, or an alien planet? Or somewhere entirely outside of time and space as we know it?

That’s part of the thrill of watching Doctor Who. Step inside that blue box, and you could be taken anywhere. And every fan has wondered, at some point, where they would go if they were given that chance.

Peter Capaldi was asked where he would want to go at Calgary Expo earlier this year. He gave a few lighthearted answers about seeing the Beatles or the pyramids, before eventually saying: "I think I’d go see my folks, who aren’t here anymore.”

I used to have wild dreams about where I might go too, but since my I lost my dad, grandpa, and uncle this year, my heart has been right with Peter. 

Hand on the lever, with all of time and space before me, all I would want to do is go home.

Doctor Who has always been comfort food for me. No matter how confused or messed up this world could be, it gave me hope that there was something I could do to get through it. Evil could be defeated, justice could be found, and loss – while painful – could be overcome.

But after everything that happened, I was reluctant to come back. With my own pain so fresh, even Doctor Who could be too much. There are too many painful losses. There’s too much to dwell on. There are too many girls with dead and dying fathers. 

I did come back to watch Series 10, thinking I might be safe from those painful feelings. And then along came Bill Potts, who lost her mother when she was a baby and had almost no photographs of her to keep her memory alive.

At the time “The Pilot” premiered my family was preparing for my father’s funeral, and I was in charge of collecting photographs from family and friends. It was a heartbreaking task. I marked out the whole path of his life, from childhood to adulthood, documenting the things he loved to do and his relationships with the family and friends he left behind. There were official photographs with his sarcastic smiles, and candid pictures capturing small tics of his personality that we’d never see again.

Bill asked the Doctor if pictures could really help after someone’s gone, and my immediate, bitter thought was that they don’t help nearly as much as you want them to. 

But then the Doctor traveled back in time to capture new photos of Bill’s mother for her. The dam burst and I cried through that scene as Bill did. Pictures aren’t nearly good enough, but when they’re all you have, they help more than you could imagine.

It was little moments like this that brought me back to Doctor Who while I grieved each of my losses. So much of grief is wrapped up in time – time borrowed and lost, regretted and re-lived, stolen and reclaimed. You spend far too much time reliving each terrible moment of your loss, pulling it apart piece by piece to figure out where everything went wrong. You regret the moments you didn’t take advantage of – the conversations you never had, the questions you never got answered. And you’re haunted by the future you were supposed to have with that person in your life. 

Friends and family and a good therapist will tell you that you have to accept that there’s nothing you can do to change what happened. That’s true and good advice, but not always advice we’re ready to act on when our pain is fresh. Doctor Who gives you space to say to hell with that. Every impossible scenario ever dreamed up in grief is possible in a show where time and space aren’t boundaries any more. We’re free to imagine the impossible and indulge in denial and bargaining for just a little while longer. We can imagine going back in time to see the people we loved one last time. We might even imagine going back in time to save their life.

When my dad was in the hospital, I kept going back again and again to “Father’s Day,” the story from Series 1 where Rose goes back in time and tries to save her dad from being killed in a car accident. I’d only ever seen it once, and it shook me so much that I never wanted to watch it again. It wasn’t just the thought that one day I would also lose my dad – that just seemed like an inevitable fact of life. I was terrified by the thought that maybe I’d know his death was coming, and still be powerless to stop it. That I could only sit there and watch it happen. 

The moment where Rose finally says goodbye to her dad tormented me while my dad was dying. All I wanted to do was go back in time and just fix it. I knew exactly what I would say and do, but instead I was stuck waiting for the inevitable to happen. But when all I wanted to do was run away and hide from it all, I reminded myself that I wouldn’t get any do-overs. 

I stayed, and I held his hand.

Grief, like time, doesn’t move in a straight line. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance don’t pass one after the other in a neat, predictable order. You swing back and forth between each emotion, sometimes going around and around in circles. 

If you want to know what grief looks like, watch “Heaven Sent.” Grief is our own bespoke torture chamber, a hell of our own making. It has a way of bringing out all of our deepest regrets and fears. And every time you think you’ve found a way out, you’re dumped back in again.

Until one day, you’re free.

I finally went back to watch “Father’s Day” a few months ago. It was painful, but unexpectedly easier to watch this time around. After all, my worst fear had already been realized. There was nothing it could scare me with anymore. Yet strangely, I felt comforted afterwards too. It felt like exorcising a bad dream. 

After a loss, it’s normal to obsess over what you or anyone else could’ve done differently. It’s not entirely rational – even if you did think of something that could’ve been done differently, you can’t change what happened – but that doesn’t stop the thoughts of “if only…” from keeping you up at night. 

Knowing you can’t change anything is very different from accepting it. And somehow it was easier to get that message from a science-fiction show where everything might be possible. Doctor Who doesn’t answer phrases like “If only I could have done this differently" with “You can’t.” It says, “Let’s try.” There’s space to release every grief-driven fantasy that’s trapped and clawing at your chest and tormenting you in nightmares.

But Doctor Who rarely provides pure wish fulfillment. The Doctor and his companions can’t always save everyone. Rose doesn’t get to save her dad. He was always going to die. And as awful as it sounds, it was comforting to see the Doctor and his companions fail. Even with hindsight and a time machine, they can’t change everything. 

It took all the power out of thoughts of “if only…” Somehow I needed to go to the most absurd, impossible scenario to accept that there was really, truly, nothing I could change that would bring my loved ones back. Because no matter what I could go back and change, it still might not have been enough. Seeing the Doctor and Rose and Bill and Clara and so many others discover the limits to their own abilities helped me accept how limited my own actions were. 

The thoughts of “if only...” won’t go away, not entirely. But they can’t hurt me anymore.

Life moves on, and I get a little closer to acceptance and something almost like being okay. It doesn’t help that this year manages to exceptionally suck even beyond my own family’s grief.

After Deborah Watling passed away in July, I went back and watched “The Tomb of the Cybermen” again. It’s one of my favorite stories, but I’d been avoiding it this year. At the start of this story, Victoria has just lost her father, but the poor girl doesn’t get much time to grieve. Instead, she’s rushed in and out of the TARDIS with barely enough time to change into a short dress before she’s thrown back into another terrifying adventure. 

But midway through the story, we pause for one of the most heartfelt scenes in the whole history of the show. As the rest of their companions sleep, the Doctor and Victoria sit together and talk about their families. Victoria confesses that although she enjoys being with the Doctor and Jamie, she still misses her father. She’s convinced that her memories of him will always be sad, tainted by the memory of his death. When the Doctor tries to convince her they won’t, she says that he probably can’t even remember his family, considering how old he must be.

The Doctor responds:

Oh yes, I can when I want to. And that’s the point, really. I have to really want to, to bring them back in front of my eyes. The rest of the time they sleep in my mind, and I forget. And so will you. Oh yes, you will. You’ll find there’s so much else to think about. 

The first time I watched this story, the Doctor’s comment felt unnecessarily cruel. After all, Victoria’s still coping with her father’s death. The last thing she wants to be told is that one day she’ll forget him.

But now I realize that’s not what the Doctor is saying at all. Victoria will always carry her memories of her father. But at that moment, they’re looming over everything else in her life. She can’t enjoy her time with the Doctor and Jamie without thinking about how her father isn’t there to enjoy it with her. But in time, they won’t overwhelm her. That grief and pain and sadness will fade. And Victoria will eventually be able to move forward with her life.

This, I think, is the hardest part of grief. Building a life without your loved one is a way of acknowledging that they are gone. It feels like we are leaving them behind. It feels wrong to imagine a future where my grandfather and uncle won’t get to tease my partner, where my father won’t walk me down the aisle, where none of them will meet or help me raise my children. 

But as another dearly missed companion once said, everything has its time. I wish we had more together, but I’ll treasure every moment that I had. 

[md3artjournal]

11:02 PM 12/20/2018

The talk today about Tatay's "living trust" and taxes/insurance/expenses to be paid yearly after he (and Nanay) die, kind of made it clear to me that I have to go get a job.  

For a while now, I've been coming to accept that I'm not good at being an artist.  Not just my mediocre skill in making art (regardless of how much praise I get for my clay sculpting, and regardless of how mesmerized I am by craftsman artisans), but that I'm not SUITED to making a living as an artist.  I'm uncomfortable marketing myself; not just feeling like I'm boasting, but also I have no confidence in myself to even try it, let alone do it on a regular basis. I'm afraid of networking. I'm afraid to take comissions (and the associated horror stories I've heard dealing with clients). I'm afraid to even get around to making an online shop. I'm afraid to try signing up for more conventions because just buying tables gives me probably anxiety attacks. I'm afraid of freelancing. Etc., etc. Even if the work I produced was any good quality, I'm just not happy doing these other things associated with selling my art. I'm not SUITED to this job.  

The more I thought about it that way, the more I had to accept that maybe I was suited to working for an employer with an ordinary (cubicle/office) job---Maybe I would be HAPPIER that way.  Like Kuya said when I called "not it" as my dad's executor, I'm "not motivated".  I probably am best suited to just having an employer take care of me, so I don't have to think about health insurance, money, security, etc.  I mean, I already do that.  I don't think, and I'm not motivated to become ambitious enough to take care of myself.  From my fundamentally suicidal point of view, it's all futile.  Maybe the me now, would be happy in a job where I don't really have to think, where I only pretend to work most of the time, and where I just feel unfulfilled, again. I did say when I first got laid-off and returned to art, that by the time I'll need to return to an office job, I'll probably WANT an office job by then.  This must be what past me was talking about.  

Lately, I've been thinking about how I can't even do my daily figure photography project earlier in the day; I keep procrastinating until near midnight.  Do I really want to do art, if I keep procrastinating it?  Why haven't I been drawing daily again, after the business of Thanksgiving died down?  Is it just more proof that art isn't really what I want to do? It's such a painful reality to accept, because when I don't produce art, I get really sad.  And often, I don't even know why, until I realize how long it's been since I've made something that made me feel accomplished, worthwhile, or at least the catharsis of expressing myself.  I can't decide whether I really need art at the basis and center of my lifestyle, because without it I go crazy or want to die, but also at the same time, I don't make much effort to do it more often. Do I want my life to be about art or not?  And do I even like making art?  When I get spare moments, it's not what I do.  Maybe this is just a hobby. ;_;  

Maybe I need to really prove my acceptance of my low artistic skill by relegating art to a side portion of my life.  Make it just a hobby.  Lots of people express themselves only on the weekends and after work.  I know I failed to do that last time, with my last cubicle/office job, and I was miserable, and eventually suicidal.  But I gave myself all this time for 7 years to make all the art I thought I wanted to, that I dreamed about while stuck in a cubicle...And I didn't do it.  So maybe it's time to accept that (producing) art isn't really want I want my life to revolve around.  (That statement makes me feel so sad. ;_; )  

I know that lots of artists describe art lulls and procrastination with great frequency, but I need to make money.  Tatay might die soon, and I need to pay for his medical care, this house, taxes, insurance, etc.  I don't think much about grownup issues, since I don't seem myself as (yet) grownup.  But I just need to make money now, so I don't have to worry about things.  

Often times lately, I find my day done and wasted, and I think that if I at least had a job, even one I didn't care about, where I'd just pretended to be busy most of the time, I'd at least have the accomplishment of having gotten money for our family to live on.  I could even earn the cash to not feel guilty being a figure collector.  Would I be happy as just a consumer?  I tried that before as my source of fulfillment, and the answer was that I was still just kidding myself and becoming suicidal.  So no, it didn't work.  But at least earning money daily, regardless of my lack of effort, would be accomplishing something.  

Maybe I should still sell art on the side?  Lots of people have a day job, PLUS an Etsy/online shop or occaisional artist alley conventions.  I could still do Anime Expo artist alley every year or even help support PMX every year, and not have to worry about making enough profits to support myself because it would be just a side job---hobby.  ...But after a day at work, even if all I did was sit at a cubicle and just pretend to work, I was always so (emotionally/mentally) exhausted that I couldn't do anything enjoyable after work.  That was why I always became depressed, even though I had all the security (money, health insurance) that everyone told me I would need to be happy.  That was the entire reason why I determined that I needed to make art/the fulfilling thing in my life to BE my JOB.  That was my logical conclusion.  I'm just so afraid to try again (being an office worker), on something that seemed to have already been proven wrong for me.  But I guess if I really need to start getting several $100,000 into my Savings account, then I'd have to risk a second try.  (Maybe this time, I'd be able to avoid all the stupid "office politics" which was actually just so-called adults acting like the worst parts of teenager stereotypes---Even though they were supposed to be adults!!!)

I guess I just have to accept being miserable either way.  I didn't think I'd live this long.  I first wanted to suicide when I was 11.  I didn't want to make it to 13; I didn't want to become a teenager.  Then I chickened out and most definitely didn't want to become an adult, so I didn't want to reach 18...then 21, when I chickened out again.  ~__________~;;;;  Now I'm just waiting to die.  But if I'm too lazy for even that, then maybe I have to start actually making money to make a suspected future life easier for me.  

I still don't think of myself as an adult.  I occaisionally still daydream about things I'd do when I "grow up" (how I'd arrange a kitchen, groceries I'd prioritize on a shopping list, etc.)...but I still feel it's not reality.  This past Tuesday I watched "Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse" and a YouTube video essay talked about how Peter B. Parker hasn't moved from his same spot he had as a teenager, because he's still doing the same things he was doing as a teenager (and that was why he wasn't ready to take the next step in his life with Mary Jane who wanted that parental phase to start).  I'm still doing all the same things I did as a kid.  I'm still in the same room, letting my parents do all the thinking, never taking the initiative to be ambitious, nor try new things, etc.  I'm still in the same spot, like Peter.  I never grew up.  And I don't really want to.  But I've got to at least earn money, if I keep chickening out on killing myself.  

I wonder what I'm supposed to do.  I often hear advice about remembering when you were a kid, and what you wanted to become.  When I think about that, I recall wanting to be dead.  I didn't think I'd live this long.  The only thing I thought I wanted to become was a scientist, but even back then, I felt like I was just playing pretend or lying.  It was just a cool thing to say because I recognized all the abilities that open up with scientific knowledge, and I like mad scientist characters in cartoons.  But college was a wake-up call to realizing that I didn't like doing science as much as I had just allowed everyone's expectations to push me there, because I didn't want to think for myself.  But I got there and felt so alone and didn't know what I was doing...My dad had said years ago that if you really like something, you'll find yourself doing it on your own, without anyone else's prompting.  And without the external affirmations of the science identity from others, once I got to college, I realize that science in and of itself, didn't give me joy.  It was a lonely slog of continually feeling lost, continous invalidatiions, and lack of accomplishments or self-esteem/self-pride.  So what am I supposed to do?  I chose art because after sampling a bit of everything through the required college core classes, my art class was the only one where I was ambitious, excited, and fruitful.  I thought it was a sign that I actually cared for something, in and of itself.  But then I get to these 7 years of "making a living as an artist" and I mostly spend my days not doing art.  When I was in my cubicle job, I dreamed and dreamed of the time to make art, and now I don't do it.  I spent so much time in that office job, "goofing off" by writing and writing, and sometimes I think that's a sign that that should be what I do with my life.  But I'm not good at it...Or maybe I used to be, but not anymore.  Sometimes, I see my current days, wasted online, checking social media, whipping up collector campaigns, writing essays about fandom, and just participating in fandom...And I think that maybe that should be what I'm supposed to do with my life.  I do it automatically afterall.  Maybe I should legitimize it with a Media Studies degree or go back to school for psychology in parasocial relationships, public pedagogy, and the function of fictional stories and fandom in the process of being a person in real life...  But then I remember how suicidal and miserable I was in school, and how even classes I chose, even classes in fields that I had inadvertantly proven to be proactive in and must therefore intrinsically like, were all made into miserable slogs that I again underachieved in.  I can't go back to school.  I don't want to feel that way anymore.  In my current lifestyle, I am the happiest I have every been.  I still get depressed sometimes, but it's not something daily beaten into me as soon as I wake up, until I wish I'd never wake up again---And why can't I get the guts to suicide already!?!?!?!?!  School isn't about learning anything or thinking.  It's about getting grades and a diploma.  And I used to think that was enough to take care of networking for me.  But even going into school for a 2nd time, knowing it's more about networking than anything else, I still don't think I could do it.  I can't socialize.  I think I'm even anti-social.  And forget extra-curriculars to prove myself as a collaborator to potential future employement avenues.  I was so aware of my inability to do more at school the first time, I didn't take any double majors or minors.  Because I knew that all I wanted to do, was get home from class and be a fangirl.  Watch cartoons, draw, write fanfics, read novels, write my own oriignal stories, draw comics, make website shrines, read other people's fandom participation, create content, make fan-works, etc.  I just couldn't do more than one grownup thing at a time, when I needed time for my self-esteem-saving, life-validating hobbies.  How to make those hobbies a job?...  Maybe it's time to give up.  Because I don't have much time left and I need money to survive.  ...I really don't like giving up though.  I have no ambition, I've been burned too many times on the few cases I've tried to be proactive,...But for some reason I still can't let go of persistence/determination.  But maybe it's just anothe perspective on laziness.  Too lazy to leave my stable office job, too lazy to change majors a second time, too lazy to move from whatever position I was in.  Other people might look on from the outside and may have thought to themselves that I was at least "determined to see this through" or admire my "persistence", but I was just too lazy to move from even a tough spot.  I really should be dead.  When i was little, I used to rant to myself that I was so freakishly lucky all my life that if I ever found the diety that was keeping me alive all this time, when all I wanted to do was be dead, I'd punch them.  But now I'm older and I realize it was all the people in my life who care about me, who had been keeping me alive...And I can't very well punch them.  ~o~!  There are people going through miserable horrors in the world, and I can't be happy just surviving...  ;_;  In recent years, I've wondered if being unhappy despite having all the commonly prescribed reasons to be happy, was a sign of my having a mental illness, like depression.  In recent years, I've had bouts of paranoia and delusional ravings that further proved the irrationality signifying mental illness.  And knowing that, it seems logical, that maybe if I just got treatment, solved this askewed mental perspective, I'd just be able to be happy with all the things that everyone says should make me happy---Maybe I'd be happy with a job that makes money and give me security, maybe I'd be happy doing art on just the weekends, maybe I could handle going back to school without becoming suicidal semi-daily again---But it's just so hard to get therapy when my problem is talking to other people.  Like, I can't cure my social anxiety, when the prescription is "talking to another person".  The last time I was forced into it, I tricked the therapist(s) into thinking I had a different problem, so I wouldn't have to talk about my real problems.  I couldn't even talk during today's conversation about my dad's plans after his death and my mom reminding us all to make ourselves financially secure when they die, because I was already fighting to not cry.  I can't have any serious conversations without crying---even when I'm not in trouble!  How is someone like me supposed to function as a grownup?!?  I just don't think I'm suited to being alive.  I'm not enthusiastic enough with making a living as an artist, I'm not happy in a financially stable office job, I'm too socially anxious for retail jobs, I'm too afraid of that level of depression returning if I return to school, I'm too afraid to netork or try new things/projects/careers,...I don't even have any dreams or future hopes!  I'm not cut out for this being alive thing.