#paramountie

Cosima x Delphine - So Baby I’m Yours (a fanmix)

okay so this one came up in two fics, both of which I hope to finish in... the foreseeable future. first, a Brad/Ray soulmate fic in which they are not soulmates:

“It’s a crap story. People just shouldn’t be allowed to find their fuckbuddy-for-life at sixteen. You’ve barely figured out how to hold your own dick by sixteen. We were just--bad for each other. He didn’t even know he was queer until he matched with me,” he added after a silent moment. “That fucks you up, you know? He resented me for being a guy and being the last person he was ever supposed to sleep with. But he still loved me, and we still did, y’know, teenage boyfriend things, and I still loved him, so it took me years to realize that it was fucked up. The whole thing is bullshit. What’s the fucking point of being destined to love someone who doesn’t make you happy?”

There was a sour note in his voice, and Brad regretted asking in the first place. He didn’t like to think of an unhappy Ray Person. He didn’t even know what an unhappy Ray would look like.

“It is bullshit,” he agreed, for want of anything else to say. His fingers traced up and down Ray’s bare shoulder and he felt goosebumps rising. Ray curled closer.

second, the Speirs/Liebgott postcanon fic I alluded to earlier:

This is what Joe Liebgott expects from the future: a house in San Francisco, filled with three to five kids, a wife, and his parents and siblings as often as he can get them. Maybe after the war, work will be easier to come by, and they’ll all be less tired. Joe can work just one job, and make it home in time for dinner every day. He can listen to his kids when they talk about school, play with them in the living room after dinner, and say their prayers with them at night. Leah, his twin sister, got married in 1943; he hopes he’ll get married soon after the war is over, so their kids can all be around the same age and be as close as siblings.

He wants to make enough money to set a little aside for his parents, too, enough so that his ma can afford to at least hire out the laundry. Ideally, he helps pay off their mortgage and his father can hire somebody else to help at the store. It’s been rough on his parents, the past few years, and he sees how that wears on them. They were happy, when they first got married, and they’re not happy now. (Money, always money--whenever he hears someone say Jews are greedy he wants to snap of course my family’s greedy, we’ve been starving for three generations.) He wants to be able to do this for them.

Heartbreak Dream

In a moment

You were everything to me

In this moment

We're living in a heartbreak dream

-

Spideytorch Week Day Three: Domesticity

Playlist for paramountie’s All That We Were:

“What do you think the deal is anyway?” Peter asks. “My money’s on dreamscape.”

“Twenty bucks says it’s an alternate universe.”

7. routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing

“Have you seen my leather jacket?”

“Which one?” Peter called out, not taking his eyes off his tablet.

“The black one!” Johnny said.

“Not really narrowing it down here,” Peter said. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “Now if you said the one with the truly unfortunate amount of fringe...”

“It’ll come back into style eventually,” Johnny said, coming into the living room holding two nearly identical black leather jackets. “Which one do you like better?”

Peter squinted at them. “Uh. The left.”

“Great,” Johnny said, tossing that one back into the bedroom and shrugging on the other. “You sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“And fall asleep in the front row again? Thanks, but not thanks,” Peter said. “As funny as you thought the photos were...”

“They were pretty funny,” Johnny said.

The Tutor(AN: this story ignores the retconning of shawn and cory’s friendship)

–

Shawn squinted at the slip of paper Mr Feeny had given him for his parents to read. It was a month into his first grade year, and the old man wouldn’t let up on him. Don’t get Shawn wrong, he liked school fine, but it was hard. He didn’t like hard. Besides, all the other kids didn’t seem to be having problems, so he was either the biggest idiot or Feeny was just picking on him. As he sat struggling to make out letters on the note, he was leaning more towards the former.

Shawn Hunter couldn’t read. Yeah, technically he was supposed to have learned how last year, but it always gave him a headache. His best friend Cory would always read to him, and he really liked that. He wouldn’t know where he’d be without Cory; probably stuck back in kindergarten squinting over a book the same way he was now with the note.

The bell rang, signaling the end of classes, and as they left the class to meet up with Cory’s big brother out front Cory reached out to take the note from Shawn. Shawn hands it to him wordlessly; this was their dynamic. Shawn needed help, and Cory was there to help him. Cory paused, frowning down at the note. He looked up at Shawn, and the look on his face made Shawn worried. “It says you can’t read.”

Shawn scowled at his best friend. “I already knew that,” he huffed, annoyed that his friend would make fun of him like this.

Cory shook his head, “No, that’s what it says… Mr. Feeny wants you to get a too-ter,” he sounded out, his eyes squinting at the new word. Shawn probably should be more upset about this, but suddenly he was giggling madly. Cory frowned this time. “What? What’s funny?”

Shawn just laughed more, clenching his stomach. “You said tooter.” Cory still didn’t get it. “Like… pbbbt!” Shawn put his hands on his mouth and blew on it, making a fart sound.

At this Cory burst out laughing, and the boys fell to the floor in a fit of giggles. The both of them took turns making fart noises until Eric stood up in front of them with a furrowed brow. The boys sobered then, and the hallway around them fell silent. That is, until Shawn spit out a loud, wet fart sound in Eric’s direction. The boys fell over each other all over again.

Eric shook his head at his younger brother and his friend, tutting slightly. “You boys are so immature,” he says with an arrogant air to his voice.

Cory couldn’t quit giggling completely but quieted enough to ask, “What’s that mean?”

Eric shrugged, “I dunno, but Mr. Feeny calls me that all the time.”

Speak of the devil, their elder teacher walked up to their group and examined the scene. “Mr. Matthews, Mr. Matthews, Mr. Hunter,” he nodded in acknowledgment.

This time Shawn quit laughing and looked up at his teacher, “Hey Mr. Feeny, what’s a toot-er?”

Their teacher gave them a small smile and explained, “A tutor is someone who works with students to help them with subjects they are struggling with in class.” The boys looked at him taking in the new information.

Then Eric shouts loudly, “No it’s someone who does this!” Eric sticks out his tongue and blows a loud raspberry in Mr. Feeny’ face. The boys collapse in a fit of giggles once again, Eric now joining them on the floor.