#Now there’s also something to be said about self publishing becoming easier and easier to achieve success in

[vanhelsingapologist]

Publishing has always been a fucking nightmare, but now it’s a layer of hell. It’s not enough that writers be good at what they do. Writers have to maintain an active social media presence and cultivate a following. Be available.

They have to be conventionally attractive enough to look good enough to see on a screen, aesthetically pleasing, kind, funny, up-to-date on trends, socially aware but not so controversial that they turn off a brand from California from slapping their discount code on a video promoting a book.

They have to do all of this with no media training, with little help from the companies that are supposed to be doing this for them.

Of course, a lot of this isn't possible for say, the 40-something mother of two who teaches English at a school and writes on the side. She’s boxed out of an already complex industry that already has enough walls.

On some level, I think authors have always marketed themselves a little, but we’ve reached such a crazy point where we’re demanding the author become the influencer. Accessibility in publishing has narrowed from an inch to a sliver. And that inch was hard enough to get in as is.

[onewomancitadel]

I had a post I wrote in my head in bed the other day and I was like, do I need to really share my stupid thoughts with the world again? If I don't rapid-fire post I don't post at all - anyway, on the subject of moral reasoning, I think that the capacity to recognise a text makes you uncomfortable or depicts immoral acts is itself a gift and it is highly ironic there are people concerned about the moral content of fiction that recognise the moral content of said fiction is problematic, disturbing, uncomfortable, or undesirable behaviour in real life. If anything I would personally say it speaks to more of an urgency surrounding media criticism and reading comprehension as opposed to the need to suppress the actual existence of xyz works themselves (and similarly who is interacting with those works).

There is really a responsibility that even goes beyond the individual author/creator and what they choose to portray - e.g. Nabokov's profound discomfort and condemnation of the covers used for Lolita, including internationally, gave a very different impression from what the actual text proper was conveying - the conflict of the little girl, only twelve, whose name was Dolores, contrasted against a sex object on the covers chosen by the publisher. I'm not here to debate Lolita, but we're not even just talking about the failure of reading comprehension, we're talking about the abject disrespect of the publishing industry towards the author, and how they chose to portray the work; it literally was, in part, a case of judging a book by its cover. Would you have reason to question the text if you were already told by the cover what you were in for, even if you were possessed of the capacity to do so?

Of course I don't think moral reasoning is everything: the idea that the only thing standing between bad behaviour and corrected behaviour is the knowledge that said behaviour is bad is naïve at best (and a common error in most social justice movements now).

But I do think the fundamental argument undergirding the current 'media consumption crisis', otherwise known as the anti-proshipping conflict (which does transcend fandom, so I find it insufficient a term), that people do not have the capacity to recognise that a given work is morally wrong in some way, and the inability to recognise that a given work is morally wrong influences and causes immoral behaviour in everyday life, is ironically enough kind of proven wrong by its very proponents.

That ability to morally reason is a gift that shouldn't be wasted, and it is why I find the 'just relax it's not real' refrain uninteresting because I do think that there is real moral value and debate possible and worthwhile in fiction which partly justifies its apparent 'problematic' content. I also think that ultimately the reason this has become a battleground is because there are much more serious moral crises, even in the realm of media consumption, that are very hard to face, and fandom (and media criticism and its spectacle) is an easier space to navigate and control.

You might wonder why I write posts on this topic since I find most of the conversation farcical at best - it's because most of my fictional interests are termed as problematic, which is wildly ironic because something like a redemption arc is, to me, celebratory of best moral intentions and ideals. Where I feel somewhat unmoored is that I'm not entirely on the side that moral ideals are left to die in fiction, and I think that the existence of works that are not self-justifying are actually bad in some way, but equally the side that wants to erase this unrealised potential is frustrating. What is even more offensive to me is that ultimately most of this debate is small fry, whereas storytelling itself is probably half the reason I am alive.

[dumbestthingiveeverheard]

Dumbest Thing I've Ever Heard: 8/2/2023

Fifth Place: Bret Stephens

Yesterday, Bret Stephens published a New York Times piece with the headline "The Hard-Drug Decriminalization Disaster." Highlights include him attempting to tie drug decriminalization in Oregon with anecdotes of crimes that have happened in that state--including somebody doing an inappropriate act in public which the author does not even attempt to tie to drug use and a person shooting up on a playground--which also happens in every other state in this country. This is not even mentioning Stephens attempting to draw a correlation between this measure and the increase in violent shootings in Portland from 2019 to 2022--even though violent crime increased as a whole from 2019 to 2022.

Of course, the article does nothing to argue the point that it is not the right of the government to determine if an adult decides to do drugs or not, and its attempts to discredit Portugal's drug experiment sees him admitting the problems Portugal is having now only exist because of funding cuts--only to then talk about how evil drug addicts are:

Here, too, defenders of the system point to funding shortfalls, especially for treatment. But the sticky fact that proponents of decriminalization rarely confront is that addicts are not merely sick people trying to get well, like cancer sufferers in need of chemotherapy. They are people who often will do just about anything to get high, however irrational, self-destructive or, in some cases, criminal their behavior becomes. Addiction may be a disease, but it’s also a lifestyle — one that decriminalization does a lot to facilitate. It’s easier to get high wherever and however you want when the cops are powerless to stop you.

Mind you, although I am not going to say that no addict is like this, I will say that the generalization is--at best--rather misleading. Even in our current system, people acknowledge that addicts are not "often" irrational people who need to be thrown in prison to deal with their issues--hence why we have things like rehab clinics in the world already.

Fourth Place: Allysia Finley

This is one I'm a tad late on, but the fact that one writer for The Wall Street Journal felt the need to publish an article with the headline "Climate Change Obsession Is a Real Mental Disorder" says everything you need to know about the newspaper.

If heat waves were as deadly as the press proclaims, Homo sapiens couldn’t have survived thousands of years without air conditioning. Yet here were are. Humans have shown remarkable resilience and adaptation—at least until modern times, when half of society lost its cool over climate change.

So the fact that people have died of intense heat all throughout history is--what exactly?

“Extreme Temperatures Are Hurting Our Mental Health,” a recent Bloomberg headline warns. Apparently every social problem under the sun is now attributable to climate change. But it’s alarmist stories about bad weather that are fueling mental derangements worthy of the DSM-5—not the warm summer air itself.

For the record, the article in question used--you know, actual science to explain how environmental factors can impact mental health. Of course, one could criticize this conclusion but the evidence for it appeared to be rather solid. However, why even bother to attempt an actual response when you could make fun of the headline? Even her response to this quotes a section from the study Bloomberg cited which said that further adaption could mitigate this effect--but in order for an effect to be mitigated, it has to exist in the first place.

Third Place: Rudy Giuliani

I don't even know what to add to this, Media Matters published an article today with the headline "Rudy Giuliani: “'If I'm a conspirator, I was a conspirator in performing completely legal acts.'” The problem is that doesn't make any sense, a conspiracy is a plot by two or more people to do something illegal, charging somebody of engaging in conspiracy means you are already charging them of being a conspirator in a crime.

Second Place: Ron DeSantis

Both sides went after him for this one, yesterday he tweeted:

As President, I will end the weaponization of government, replace the FBI Director, and ensure a single standard of justice for all Americans. While I’ve seen reports, I have not read the indictment. I do, though, believe we need to enact reforms so that Americans have the right to remove cases from Washington, DC to their home districts.

So Ron is basically saying that he's using an inditement as a jumping off a point to push for his policies--despite never having read it.

Winner: Michael Tracey

This man has the greatest defense for Donald Trump ever thought up, the law they indicted him on is really old:

This latest indictment is completely insane. They have literally charged Trump under the Civil Rights Act of 1866

Wait until he hears about this even older document called The Constitution, which we still have as law to this day.

Michael Tracey you've said the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

[rainsmediaradio]

Reason people don't talk when they have problem and die in silence. #SpeakUp

Photo by Nicholas Githiri from Pexels Growing up, my late sister always said to be "Keeping mute is the beginning of foolishness" she would encourage me to speak up whenever i am going through stuff. She would say "say it anyhow you can if you can not think of words to express how you feel or what you are going through." i know repeating that to me all the time should make me bold and fearless. I am bold, i am fearless. In fact, i take calculated risks where everybody chooses to run away. I speak when everybody is afraid of speaking but i still find it difficult to tell people around me i need help. It is true that it is easier to apologize than to ask for help. Oh! I am a living example of that. My mouth will never open to ask for help until things get worse beyond my control, even at that level you i still tell myself don't worry you can fix this, you just need to make the right moves. If my back is not completely against the wall and restrained from getting up, it is not over and not yet time to scream for help. Why? Why am i like that? Well, the answer is I HATE IT WHEN I ASK FOR HELP AND THE PERSON ACT AS THOUGH I AM A PARASITE WHO HAS COME TO BURDEN THEM WITH MORE PROBLEMS. It hurts a lot. It probably hurts me that much because i am the kind of guy that pays attention to people around me and could tell when someone is in need and if it is something i can solve i do it without the person asking for help. I understand some people can be parasitic, take advantage of the fact that you always help them but that does not mean you should treat everybody the same. Hence the reason i always pray to God Father you know it has always been you and i since my teenage years and i know you won't fail me now. This might sound stupid but trust me it gives some relief, if you can not help someone who came to you for help, you don't need to be nasty or judge them rather let them know you feel their pain, you wish you could help but you just can't at the moment. Also, it is demoralizing when you help someone and you are expecting the person to become your puppet. I may have a problem you can solve but that does not mean i must always answer to you and give up dignity for you. Mind you, one of my many favourite life philosophies is that if you don't help someone will. So, while you are there thinking you are the only one who can do that thing there are thousands of people out there lined up, waiting to be discovered to fulfill that exact purpose you have chosen to withhold. When you demoralize someone by your gesture, words or actions what you are doing is killing the person's self esteem mentally. It takes a lot of self reassurance and accomplishments to regain that confidence. Making someone feel bad because they ask you for help is like scaring them with a masquerade and jailing the masquerade in their heart and throwing the key in the bottom of the ocean. It is a nightmare that can hunt for years. So, i don't wait on human promises because they can barely keep them. If you are out there and in my shoes, please know that you are not alone in your struggles. You have God and you have me. I may not be able to solve your problem but i am willing and ready to listen because talking about your problem or problems is the first step towards getting it solved. You could send a mail to rain@rainsmediaradio.com or rainsmedia59@gmail.com. If you would like me to publish it, i will gladly do so. Who knows? You might get the help you need via this platform, and if you just want to share it with me and keep it private i will also respect that. Do not be silent, speak to someone. #SpeakUp Read the full article

[highdefinitions]

41

47

48

66 (ddd)

72 / 73

75

76

77

okay now im done i swear

41. who's your favorite character you've ever written? probably quinn. i love her. she's so badass. who's yours?

47. is there a trope that you've written before but are now sick of? nah i don't think so. if i'm writing a trope, i'm probably going to eat it up every single time. i mean, who could ever get sick of enemies to lovers???

48. who is your favorite character to write for? has his changed since you've started writing for that fandom? i think i really really enjoying writing for josh. i seem to have a knack for always originally thinking the plot of a fic should be for him. side character wise, i also really really enjoy writing him. he's fun. sam is also super fun to write as a side character to me for some reason.

66. what's a fun fact about the dead don't die? it's actually the first fic i have published on here that i did a lot of prewriting for. usually, i sort of just write it and send it off (like shoebox? yeah, i was writing those chapters RIGHT BEFORE i was posting them). i guess that's not very fun, huh? i don't know, it's hard with this one because there hasn't been a lot that went one way and i changed last minute. maybe i guess the most fun thing about it is that i came up with the idea for the cure being in the key while i was driving home to finish up writing that chapter

72. what's your favorite writing compliment you've gotten? all of them. really. this is true. even though i'm HORRIBLE at taking compliments, it makes my heart go a little funny every time i read what someone has to say about something i've written. it's a lot of the reason that i continue to write and post

73. what do you tend to get complimented on the most about your writing? i would guess my ability to balance angst into a love story maybe?? i'm really horrible at taking compliments, but i think a lot of compliments i do receive are about how well i can write angst (i hated saying that oh wow i don't want to praise myself ever again)

75. is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn't expect? the dead don't die actually. tumblr is pretty notorious for having self inserts, and i'd seen some people protesting ocs which made me nervous for it. i also hadn't seen a lot of aus being written beside lazarus and the lost boys, so i was also very nervous about putting out an au when i didn't really seem to see a lot of other people doing it. i sort of just said fuck it and see what happens and i'm glad i did because it has become something that so so many people have come to love

76. how do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external? i really just try not to pressure myself with it if i'm being honest. i know that's really difficult and i even struggle with it sometimes but the world will not end if i miss a day that i'm supposed to post on. i can't rush it, or else, it won't be good, and i want it to be good. now, sometimes, i do get into my head of 'well, this chapter sucks. it's worse than all the ones before it. i suck.' which is annoying but usually i just have to take a break, do something else, shut the computer off for the night, and then the next day it's not so bad.

i am also very thankful that you guys are super understanding with me when i miss a day or am late posting <3

77. why do you enjoy writing fanfiction? i've always really really liked writing. when i was younger, i had always wanted to write a book so i would work on some stuff here and there. i started writing fanfiction because in a way it was a little bit easier than creating a whole story from scratch. i already had characters, so all they needed were relationships and a storyline. then i sort of fell in love with the way that i could connect with people i suppose. i made friends on apps and had people telling me i should write more so i just did. also, writing about my favorite people is really cool too

[onlineselfbookpublishing]

How To Become An Author?

If you’ve always thought of becoming a published author, now’s the time to get serious about it. The rising popularity of self-publishing and eBooks has made it easier than ever for aspiring authors to try their luck. So, if you have an idea for a plot, commit yourself to writing your first book. You will be surprised at how quickly you get it done once you are armed with these helpful suggestions:

1. Hone Your Skills

You may be confident about your skills as a writer. Yet, you need to keep writing and rewriting till your manuscript is perfect. The more you write, the better you will be at articulating your ideas and bringing your story to life. You could also sign up for a course in creative writing or language to help you improve your writing.

2. Test the Waters

Start off by writing short stories or small pieces in the genre that you have picked for your book. Try and get these writings published. If you succeed in seeing them in print, you can take it to mean that you possess the skills that publishers seek.

3. Connect and Network

Gain insights into what it takes to become a writer by connecting with similar-minded people. Connect with other writers and learn all about their journey. Joining an online or local community of authors is one way of doing this.

4. Plan and Organize

Adequate planning can help you move ahead with your writing at a steady pace. Identify the time of day or night that you are at your most productive. Then, set aside precise chunks of time to write. Set realistic targets on how much you aim to accomplish each day. Earmark daily goals and make it a point to meet these targets consistently.

5. Read and Research

Don’t stop reading just because you are on your way to becoming an author yourself. Read all kinds of books and genres because this will help expand your horizon and make your writing more distinctive. Your subconscious will retain the necessary elements of whatever you read and filter out everything that is not required.

Turn to the local library or go online to research details for your book, such as the setting or any historic events that you are using.

6. Get in the Zone

For most writers, it is essential that they be in a particular frame of mind when they begin to write. It might be a secluded corner in the house or a natural setting that inspires you to write. Some like to listen to peppy music while they pen their manuscript while others thrive in quiet surroundings. So, find your creative space and focus on the task at hand.

7. Balancing Act

If you have a day job or share family responsibilities, then it is essential that you find the right balance between your two worlds. Prioritize your chores and tasks based on the need of the hour. For instance, if a child needs help with an upcoming examination, that definitely takes priority. However, if colleagues invite you to hangout after work, writing wins. So, weigh the issues and make an appropriate decision each time.

8. Overcome Writer’s Block

Writer’s block is not a myth and you would know this if you’ve had even the slightest prior experience as a writer. As Thomas Mann once said, “A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.��� So, don’t be surprised if you encounter writer’s block halfway through. Take a break from writing to do something else you like, such as a brisk jog, and come back refreshed to start again. Or, simply relax with a cup of brew and soothing music to ignite your creative cells.

These are just a few pointers to get you started on your journey to the author’s mantle. Along the way, you’re sure to learn a few things of your own to be shared with prospective authors down the line!

If you’re looking to publish your Book – Self Publish Today. We can help you publish your book in a simple step-by-step process. Talk to us to find out how to publish a book in India?

Get Free Author Guide for Book Publishing – Download Free Self-publishing Guide

[platoniclokiimagines]

could you write some headcanons for a reader who opens up to loki and telling them that its the first time the reader has found a friend who understands them? sorry if this doesn't make sense also i love this blog so much ❤

A/N: Hello~ I know it’s been, like, eighty-four years since I wrote for Loki, so if this feels un-Loki like, well... it has been six months since I wrote for them. Anyway, I’m gearing up to write and (self-)publish a book this year, so I figured I’d start small with working on filling some asks to get my creative juices flowing more consistently again.

And also I missed you all.

Enjoy~

Loki would be the Most attentive friend

ever since you’d first moved into the Compound, they had been the one you were most comfortable around

maybe it was because you had majorly felt like an outcast, which was something Loki could relate to

or maybe it was because you just felt more comfortable with them than anyone else on the team

regardless, you and Loki had hit it off quite magnificently

something that did Not go unnoticed by the rest of the Avengers

“Loki, you’ve finally found someone to get along with!” “Ha, ha. You’re hilarious, brother.”

but it really was true

as you’d come to find out, Loki seemed to be having a hard time getting along with everyone else at the Compound

they put up with Thor, because he was their brother

and the Valkyrie seemed to either infuriate or intimidate them on the daily

and the rest still seemed majorly Uncertain about them altogether

so they had mostly kept to themself, until you’d come around

or at least, so they had told you

“Oh, come on, I can’t be the only person you’ve befriended here!” “...define friend.”

you’d rolled your eyes at that, and had changed the subject, wary of making them uncomfortable

but it was something that had sat with you as your friendship grew and strengthened

and the two of you really had become as thick as thieves

they understood you on a level that no one ever had

neither at the Compound or in your life before

it meant a lot to you

and you felt the overwhelming need to let Loki know that Somehow

you were just Very Bad At Words

so instead you had Said Nothing

and the weeks had turned into months and the next thing you knew you’d been at the Compound for over a year

and Loki was still at your side, and still just as close to you now as they’d always been

you supposed now was as good a time as ever to let Loki know how much their friendship meant to you

you just hoped you didn’t end up embarrassing yourself in the process

so one night before bed, you made tea for the both of you

and padded into their room, where they sat at the armchair by their window, book in their lap

“I made tea.”

you must have sounded worried, because Loki looked up from their book immediately

“What’s the matter?” “Nothing.” “Y/N, don’t lie to me. There’s an edge to your voice.” “There’s not an edge.” “There is.” “There isn’t.” “There is.” “There isn’t.” “You’re right, there isn’t.”

it took a moment for the slight redirection to register

and you scowled immediately

“Don’t do that.” “Do what.” “Loki.”

Loki laughed, and set the book down

and took the cup of tea from you as you settled on the bed

“Then tell me what’s on your mind.”

Loki always had a way of knowing when you needed to talk

it was as frustrating as it was endearing

but it didn’t make this any easier

“I just... wanted to thank you.”

that gave Loki pause as they took a sip of their tea, looking at you over the rim of the mug

“You... what?” “Wanted to thank you.” “For...?”

you heaved a sigh, and fought the urge to throw yourself against the bed

“...I’ve never really been good at this. At... having friends, and getting to know people, and... be known by people.”

Loki said nothing, so you heaved a sigh and continued

“I really... haven’t had any friends. Like, ever? And you’re... the best friend I could imagine to ever exist, and that just... it means a lot to me. So... thank you.”

Loki nodded slowly

and you felt like you were going to melt right through the bed and floor and maybe all the way into the ground

but then they smiled softly

“I’ve never really been good with people, either. You know this, we’ve discussed this. So I, too, am extremely grateful for you. I’m really glad to have a friend like you.”

you relaxed visibly, and finally took a sip from your own tea

“I’m really glad we had this talk.” “Me, too.”

the silence afterwards was comfortable and warm

[kiingocreative]

The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

.

.

.

Performance coach Tony Robbins says that the quality of our lives depends on the state we live in every moment of every day. That state, whether we’re happy, sad, frustrated or excited, depends on three things:

• Our physiology — the way we move our bodies, the way we breathe and what we do with our face.

• Our language — the words we use, whether spoken out loud or inside our own head, to describe our experiences.

• What we focus on — the things we see versus the things we block out or fail to notice.

Today, I want to zone in on that final piece, because what we focus on is key, and it will in turn affect the way you move your body and hold yourself, and the language you use. I see this play out so much around me in general, and in the writing community in particular.

At any given time, the things we focus on determine how we feel and what we make of a situation. And what we focus on, in turn, is governed by the questions we ask ourselves every moment of every day.

Take your writing journey for instance:

If someone leaves you a negative review, do you ask yourself whether this means you’re a failure and your work is a failure? Do you ask yourself how dare that person belittle your work with a bad review? Or do you ask yourself what you can learn from this? Could you ask yourself how good it is that this person was honest in their feedback, so that readers with similar tastes won’t buy your book—and therefore not spend money on a read they might otherwise dislike and rate negatively too?

See how different questions would illicit different points of focus, and therefore different states? Some are more conducive to a positive mindset, whilst others tend to nurture frustration.

‘Why’ Questions: The Endless Loop.

And so it goes that by asking lousy questions, we get lousy answers. Because our brain has this tendency of taking any request we give it and processing it, regardless of whether or not it’s good for us. It’ll scour through the recesses of our mind and go on and on until it finds an answer.

‘Why’ questions are the worst, because there’s often no clear answer, or more than one possible answer to them, and it sends our mind on a chase to find as many possible reasons, processing like a headless chicken, often going around in circles, leaving us ruminating.

Take our example again: What if you asked yourself ‘why is this person leaving me a bad review?’

Now unleash your brain on that one, and let it roll with it—you may get:

• Because they didn’t like the book.

• Because my book is terrible.

• And if my book is terrible, then that makes me a terrible writer.

• Maybe I should just stop writing.

• Who was I to think I could do this?

• I’m clearly not good enough.

• Or maybe they left a bad review because they’re an idiot and didn’t get the brilliance of my work.

• Clearly they’re a moron.

• Maybe I should track them down and tell them just that.

• Maybe I should rally everyone I know on Instagram to shame that dimwit for leaving that review.

• …

… this can go on, until it loops back to the top and starts again. Sounds familiar?

What kind of state do you think you’d be in from obsessing over those disempowering, angering questions, never able to get closure because the loop has no logical end?

Empowering Alternatives.

My own experience of asking myself lousy questions, and my interactions with others within the writing community, have left me convinced that writers need to start asking themselves more empowering questions.

Because the way we tend to ask questions to ourself—those that breed anger, and resentment, and self doubt—ultimately only bring us back to two fears that sit at the root of it all: the fear that we’re not good enough, and the fear that we won’t be loved (or appreciated, or liked). These fears can be crippling. And that can’t be good for anyone’s art anywhere.

I’m writing this today to give you some more empowering alternatives. Some that I have used along my journey and have helped me improve.

Here are four examples:

#1 — gearing up for success:

• Instead of: ‘Why are other writers so much more successful than I am?’

• Ask yourself: ‘What I can learn from other writers to become more successful myself?’

There’s a lot of comparison out there. We know we shouldn’t fall into the trap of it, but it’s easier said than done.

If you see fellow writers thriving with their writing, their social media strategy or their exposure, try modelling what they do that is working and find what, from that, works for you.

Better even, reach out to people and ask them for advice—most people will be more than happy to share, and it’s a great way to build a network!

#2 — boosting sales:

• Instead of: ‘Why am I not selling books?’

• Ask yourself: ‘What I can do to increase my book sales?’

It can be discouraging to have published something, and to see your sales figures stalling. If you start wallowing in self pity through disempowering ‘why’ questions, you’re bound to start spiralling.

Instead, make a list of what you could do to help your sales along.

Here are some ideas that come to mind:

• Seek out book clubs and put your book on their radar. See if they’d been interested in reading your book and having you for an author Q&A when they’re done reading the book.

• Look into running promotions on Amazon (like discounted eBooks).

• Go local! Reach out to your local community and spread the word (cafes, local bookshops and libraries, local Facebook groups and communities etc.) and give them a chance to support a local.

• Contact your old school or university and enquire about showcasing you and your book as an alumni success story.

• Build genuine connections with fellow writers, avid readers and book bloggers. These relationships are a fantastic way to increase your reach and spreading the word about your book—and as a result, improve sales.

• Offer to do a read and review swap with a fellow author, where you read and review each other’s book.

• And so on.

If you start asking your brain to think outside the box, it’ll do just that!

#3 — the writer’s life:

• Instead of: ‘Why can’t I be a full-time writer and have financial security from writing?’

• Ask yourself: 'How is my present occupation helping my writing?’

• …And then ask: 'What can I do to increase my revenue from writing?’

This is one topic that’s been crossing my mind a lot, and I suspect many of us out there have pondered it at one point or other. If asked the wrong way, this question can send you spiralling into a frustrated state.

I don’t write full-time at present, and I have had my moments of daydreaming hours away, wishing I could live off my craft. That never led to anything very productive.

What I have found helpful however has been to focus on what my day job enables me to do with my writing:

• It takes away the pressure of earning a full income from writing.

• It gives me time to write and experiment with my craft in different forms.

• It enables me to look into ways to monetise my writing at my own pace.

• And that’s made for much more exciting trains of thought!

#4 — social media guru:

• Instead of: ‘Why can’t I manage to grow my Instagram reach?’ Or ‘why is social media sapping my energy?’

• Ask yourself: ‘What can I do to create a healthier balance when it comes to promotion efforts?’

Social media is a tricky one. It has incredible benefits if leveraged the right way, and it’s an amazing tool to get yourself and your work out there. In fact, I recently wrote a piece on the immense value of joining Bookstagram for writers.

But it can also be a drain, because the mechanisms of social media are built on the principle of addiction. It’s literally designed to suck you in and make you crave more, and fear that you’re missing out and not doing enough.

To avoid falling into that vicious circle, I’ve found it much healthier to ask myself how I can find the right balance to achieve what I want with my social media presence whilst also keeping my sanity. What this ends up being will look different for different people. If you’re unsure where to start, think about what you find challenging about maintaining your social media account, then what you find helps with your peace of mind, and try to find a middle ground somewhere in between that meets your needs.

Ask and thou shalt get.

I’m a firm believer in our ability to manifest our reality—at least to some extent. If you focus on all the wrong things, then your reality will look challenging and bleak.

If you train yourself to look for constructive ways forward and to get yourself excited about making the journey smoother for yourself, then finding that sweet spot that works for you can be a fascinating journey.

And that all starts with asking the right questions. Finding the right point of focus. Writing can be a wonderful, yet at times confusing and challenging journey. So do yourself a favour: where possible, take away those mind blocks that stand in your way!

Different questions about your writing journey illicit different points of focus, and therefore different states. Some are more conducive to a positive mindset, whilst others tend to nurture frustration.

[yoursecretmuse]

My Perception On No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai

🥀 This year has brought me many joys, that have left me with melancholy victories. I have been venturing out of my usual book genres and I've found a selection of well to do books that I simply cannot live without. How I've existed this far without them, I will never know. There are many different types of literature out there and of course I only focus on English and European Literature. Not because I'm bias  in some way. But I've always found American and European culture very interesting. Despite ignoring my very own culture. It had never occurred to me, that until now, I have never heard of Asian Literature. It's like an unknown phenomenon that no one speaks of. When I think back of my studies in school, I've never even heard of my teachers mentioning Asian writers at all. It was like they didn't exist or people found Asian culture not important enough to read about. Which is odd because in Asian countries they have liberties filled with European novel and American novels. Is it safe to say that Asian people find European and American culture interesting, though we do not share the same feelings toward them. Nevertheless, I stumbled upon Osamu Dazai after reading a mutual friends post about Vincent Van Gogh. It was a silly meme that consisted of Van Gogh and Osamu talking over their depression. Which is not something to joke about but I must confess I found it humorous. Through that humor, I decided to research Osamu and the rest is history. So, here is my thoughts on the exceptional book, No Longer Human. I want to give an in-depth review without giving the book away too much (if at all). But I must warn you that spoilers may become a possibility. No Longer Human is broken into three parts, including an introduction in the beginning by Donald Keene, as well as a Prologue & Epilogue by Osamu Dazai himself. So, to make things easier to understand, I'm going to review each part individually.

The Introduction Normally, I would skip this part of the book because at times it can be very boring and bland. But after reading The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johaan Wolfgang Von Goethe, I found it important to read book introductions because they can have valuable information about the writer. In this section, Donald Keene noted how under appreciated Asian writer are in literature. For some odd reason, American & Europeans cultures specifically seem to feel like we cannot learn anything from Asian culture. Perhaps it has something to do with our history with going to battle with certain Asian countries. Yet, that did not stop countries like Japan and China from filling their liberties with American & European literature. Which upsets me. Had it not been for Van Gogh, I would have missed out on an extremely talented writer. I'm not sure who is to blame for this but I find the idea of not representing Asian writers outside of manga is shameful and sad. There is more to their culture than just that. However, as a whole our world only views Asian people in a small and certain light, that barely gives them any kind of positive recognition outside of the obvious stereotypes. In short, I really urge everyone to take time and read the introduction and share your thoughts on Keene's and my views. What do you think and why is Asian literature so lost and underrepresented? Why do Asian writers rather be on the bottom of American top writing lists, than the top of Asian writer lists? It is very interesting.

🥀

The Prologue In this section, you learn of how Ōba Yōzō (aka Dazai himself) feels alienated and very much of a misfit. He tells you how all of his life he has worn a mask to hid his true sensitive and self destructive self. He harshly criticizes himself and informs you of how he feels about the nature of "humans" and how he never felt like one, thus making him believe that he is not. I like this part of the novel because I can relate to it in so many ways. Many things he explained and said is how I felt (and still very much feel) about myself. Not only of my appearance and state of being but also without people. We both share the same reflection on our confidence or lack there of as a child. I shared his thoughts on normality being ugly and being bland and not standing out is worse than being ugly or beautiful. He even goes on to explain that death has more of a soul or an expression than him. The ugly/void he felt as a child (as well as his whole life) has manifested into a visible void, that crept from his inner darkness and it carries a bland look. Which to me speaks volumes. 🥀

The First Notebook Unable to cope with the world around him, Ōba begins to become a jokester and class clown, in order to mask away the alienation that he feels. He engages in planned fails and acts as if he has no clue as to what he does. He tells us of his environment at home. His father always being gone on business and his mother he did not mention much. He speaks of his maids/servants mistreating him, but he never reported them because he sees it as pointless. We also learn he views a "human" as someone who is happy and hopeful. Perhaps, attractive in some way and could possibly have a great deal or comfortable amount of money. Which is strange because his family were quite wealthy and well known. He speaks of how he feels his life is a shame and the life of a "human" was not cut out for him. There is much more to be said here but I do not wish to spoil everything. I still want readers to get a wow factor from this book, without knowing every details and topic. 🥀

The Second Notebook A very key factor in this part is that Ōba is caught by another student named Takeichi who suspects and confronts him on faking his fall during "gym" class. This sends Ōba into a manic behavior and he somewhat becomes obsessed with Takeichi and fears that he will expose him for being a fraud. I found this interesting given Takeichi had no intention on exposing Ōba or telling anyone about his opinions on his stunts. Certain things happens and the two become somewhat of friends and Takeichi began to mention things to Ōba that were predicting and in a way life changing for Ōba. Ōba also finds an strong interest in art, which leads him to start painting. Ōba also becomes apart of a communist group and becomes a respectable member. Though, he does not share their same views and is only there because he views them as misfits. In this section, a young man now, Ōba meets someone by the name of Horiki. Horiki is also a college student but exposes Ōba into an unfortunate and dreadful life cycles, that pleasures and destroys him further. He also tries to commit suicide with a woman named Tsuneko, who dies but he does not. This even tears him apart and causes his family to the verge of disowning him. 🥀

The Third Notebook: Part One Ōba begans to have multiple affairs with different women, from different walks of life. He becomes a heavy drinker and is expelled from college. He becomes too focus on self destruction, he was not able to create or focus on his artwork. He tries to quite smoking and drinking. But struggles terribly. He marries a young girl, who tries to encourage him to stop drinking and for awhile it works. And for a moment Ōba is happy. The two both marry and move in together. 🥀

The Third Notebook: Part Two Working as a cartoon and sober, Ōba feels somber toward marriage life. He thinks of his wife as native and innocent. But he falls into bad habits once he is visited by an old friend named Horiki, who (with Ōba) witnesses Ōba's wife being sexually assaulted by an associate friend. Ōba begins to blame himself, as well as his wife and becomes manic and fills himself with alcohol and is committed into a mental hospital. After leaving his wife for another woman. This parts ends with him being brought to a home that his brother purchased for him and given the money he needed for living and personal interest. Ōba is left feeling empty and recounts his choices and views of hisself. 🥀

Epilogue We are then given the prospective of an outsider, who wanted to meet Ōba but fails. He then meets a friend of Ōba and she gives him the three notebooks. The man is intrigued by the notebooks and decides to publish them. We are left with a reflects of Ōba's friend telling us that he was a kind and gentle soul, who made everyone laugh and smile. 🥀

My Final Thoughts I believe this is one of the greatest books that I have read. I love the rawness of this book and I adore how the events were true. I feel that Osamu Dazai was a great writer and his death is very unfortunate. I find the way he told his life very interesting and beautiful and poetic. I wish I was able to meet him and praise him for being an amazing artist and writer. But the result would probably remain the same. There is so much that we can learn from Osamu and his life. His perception on life and people is very interesting and a very rare viewpoint on life. I highly suggest that everyone checkout this novel and spread the works of Asian Literature. Thanks For Listening. -𝓒

[tiesandtea]

Simon Gilbert

Simon Says

We interviewed Simon Gilbert, Suede’s drummer, whose book So Young: Suede 1991-1993 is a journal and photographic document of the band’s early years that will be published October 8th. So Young has foreword by journalist Stuart Maconie and a vibrant, lively text by Simon himself, documenting his move from Stratford-on-Avon, his hometown, to London, the audition with Suede, life in the van, the early success years and the many amusing things that come with it. It is one of those rare books that make an outsider feel like they were there, in the van. Or in absurd mansions in L.A. belonging to industry types. Or was it record producer(s)?…

The conversation extended to Coming Up, Suede’s third album that turned 25 this year and drumming. Simon’s witty, often, one-liners contrast with my more elaborate questions, proving an interesting insight into our way of writing/replying.

by Raquel Pinheiro

So Young: Suede 1991-1993

What made you want to realease So Young?

I was searching through my archives when researching for the insatiable ones movies and found lots of old negatives and my diaries. They had to be seen.

When and why did you start your Suede archives?

As you can see from the book, it stared from the very first audition day.

From the concept idea to publishing how long did it took you to put So Young together?

30 years … I’ve always wanted to make a book since I was first in a band.

What was your selection process for which items – diary entries, photos, etc.- would be part of the book?

I wanted to form a story visually with a few bits of info thrown in here and there, also most of the photos tie in with pages from the diaries.

Which methods, storage, preservation, maintenance, if at all, do you employ to keep the various materials in your archives in good shape?

Boxes in an attic … one thing about getting the book out is that I don’t have to worry about the photos getting lost forever. It’s out there in a book!

Other than medium what differences existed between selecting material for The Insatiable Ones documentary and for So Young?

Video and photos … photos don’t translate well on a TV screen.

Do you prefer still or motion pictures and why?

I prefer photos … they capture a particular moment in time … as video does, but there’s a unique atmosphere with a photo.

So Young’s cover photo has a very Caravaggio and ballet feeling to it. Its chiaroscuro also contrasts with the images inside.  Why did you choose it for the cover?

It was a striking shot and I wanted the book to be black and dark …it fitted perfectly.

How many of the photos on So Young were taken by you?

Probably about 3/4 my 3 school friends who were there with me at the beginning Iain, Kathy and Phillip took a load of us onstage, backstage, after  the gig, etc., photos I couldn’t take myself.

So Young can be placed alongside books like Henry Rollins’ Get in The Van and Michael Azerrad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life, that not only chronicle and show the less glamorous, more mundane side of being in a band, but also totally immerse the reader so deep in it that we are there, feeling and going through the same things. Was your selection of materials meant to convey that “band being your(our) life” sensation?

Yes, exactly that. I was fascinated by photos of bands, not on the front cover of a magazine or on TV. The other bits of being in a band are far more interesting.

In the foreword, Stuart Maconie mentions the brevity of your diary entries which, as someone who keeps diaries, I immediately noticed. Do you prefer to tell and record a story and events with images?

I haven’t kept a diary since the end of 1993 … looking back on them they can be a bit cringeful … So, yes, I prefer images.

Contrasting with the diary entries brevity your text  that accompanies So Young is lively, witty, detailed and a good description of the struggles of a coming of age, heading towards success, band. Do you think the text and images reveal too much into what it really is like being in a band, destroying the myth a bit?

I think the myth of being in a band is long gone … Reality is the new myth…

In So Young you write that when you first heard Never Mind The Bollocks by The Sex Pistols music was to be your “future dream”. How has the dream been so far?

Still dreaming … lose your dreams and you will lose your mind … like Jagger said.

Is there a reason why So Young only runs from 1991 to 1993?

Yes, I bought a video camera in 1993. It was so much easier filming everything rather than take a photo, wait 3 weeks to get it developed and find out it was blurred.

So Young has a limited deluxe numbered and signed edition already sold out. The non deluxe edition also seems to be heading the same way. How important is it for you to keep a close relationship with the fans?

So important. I love interacting with the fans and is so easy these days … I had to write replies by hand and post them out in 1993…

Playing Live Again & Coming Up

Before Suede’s concert at Qstock Festival in Oulu, Finland on 31.07.2021 you wrote on your social media “cant fucking wait dosnt come close!!!!!” and Mat [Osman, Suede’s bassist] on his “An honest-to-goodness rehearsal for an honest-to-goodness show. Finally”. How did it feel like going back to play live?

It was great. Heathrow was empty which was amazing. A bit strange to play for the first time after 2 years …., but great to get out again.

Coming Up was released 25 years ago. How does the record sound and seems to you now compared with by then?

I haven’t listened to it for a long time actually … love playing that album live … some great drumming.

Before the release of Coming Up fans and the press were wondering if Suede would be able to pull it off. What was your reaction when you first heard the new songs and realize the album was going in quite a different direction than Dog Man Star?

Far too long ago to remember.

Coming Up become a classic album. It even has its own Classical Albums documentary. Could you see the album becoming a classic by then?

I think so yes .. there was always something to me very special about that album.

Is it different to play Coming Up songs after Suede’s return? Is there a special approach to concerts in which a single album is played?

No … didn’t even need to listen to the songs before we first rehearsed … They’re lodged in my brain.

Which is your Coming Up era favourite song as a listener and which one do you prefer as a drummer?

The Chemistry Between Us.

Will the Coming Up shows consist only of the album or will B-sides be played as well?

Definitely some B-sides and some other stuff too.

Simon & Drumming

If you weren’t a drummer how would your version of “being the bloke singing at the front” be like?

Damned awful … I auditioned as a singer once, before I started drumming … It was awful!

In his book Stephen Morris says that all it takes to be a drummer is a flat surface and know how to count. Do you agree?

No.

Then, what makes a good drummer?

Being in the right band.

Topper Headon of the Clash is one of your role models. Who are the others?

He is, yes … fantastic drummer.

Charlie Watts is the other great …and Rat Scabies … superb.

She opens with drums so does Introducing the band. Your drumming gives the band a distinctive sound. How integral to Suede’s sound are the drums?

Well, what can I say … VERY!

Do you prefer songs that are driven by the drums or songs in which the drums are more in the background?

Bit of both actually … I love in your face stuff like She, Filmstar …, but ikewise, playing softer stuff is very satisfying too.

You’re not a songwriter. How much freedom and input do you have regarding drum parts?

If the songs needs it, I’ll change it.

Do you prefer blankets, towels or a pillow inside the bass drum?

Pillows.

Do you use gaffer tape when recording? If so, just on the snare drum or also on the toms? What about live?

Lots of the stuff … gaffer tape has been my friend both live and in the studio for 30 years.

What is the depth of your standard snare drum and why?

Just got a lovely 7-inch Bog wood snare from Repercussion Drums … sounds amazing. It is a 5000 year old Bog wood snare.

Standard, mallets, rods or brushes?

Standard. I hate mallets and rods are always breaking after one song. Brushes are the worst …no control.

How many drum kits have you owned? Of those, which is your favourite?

5 … my fave is my DW purple.

How long to you manage without playing? Do you play air drums?

7 years 2003 – 2010 … and never.

Can you still assemble and tune your drum kit?

Assemble, yes …tune no …have never been any good at that.

You dislike digital/electronic drum kits, but used one during the pandemic. Did you become more found of them?

Still hate them … unfortunately,  they are a necessary evil.

When you first joined Suede you replaced a drum machine. Would it be fair to say you didn’t mind taking its job?

Fuck him!

Brett [Anderson, Suede’s singer] as described the new album as “nasty, brutish and short”. How does that translates drums wise?

Very nasty brutish and short.

When researching for the interview I come across the statement below on a forum: “If you’re in a band and you’re thinking about how to go about this, get every player to come up with their own track list & have a listening party. I’ve done this, not only is it great fun, it’s also massively insightful when it comes to finding out what actually is going on inside the drummer’s head!”. What actually is going on inside the drummer’s head?

Where’s my fucking lighter!

And what is going on inside the drummer as a documentarist head? How does Simon, the drummer, differs from Simon, the keen observer of his own band, bandmates, fans, himself, etc.?

There is no difference … I’m Simon here there and everywhere…

What would the 16 years old Simon who come to London think of current Simon? What advice would you give to your younger self?

Don’t smoke so much you fool!

[coloricioso]

thanks a lot to everyone who talked to me or answered my previous post, I'll keep answering tomorrow ⭐ it meant a lot for me.

1. About my novel: publishing in my country (Chile) has become impossible due the dynamics of publishing houses. The big ones like Planeta or Random House don't care to publish "new authors" unless they are influencers. You are not even allowed to send them your novel, so it's not even like you have a chance to "be rejected" because they just don't receive anything. Then the medium and small publishing houses have specific topics they publish about, and none of the publishing houses I've spoken to care about Greek culture, less Greek mythology. Self-publishing in my country is very expensive, I spent like 800 USD to print 20 copies (the more copies you print it gets cheaper, but not that much). Due my crohn disease and other issues I don't have money right now to self publish, I actually have debts to pay, so self-publishing won't be an option until next year probably...

⭐ My plan with this, is taking a rest from trying to publish in my country. I could try publishing in Kindle, maybe. And, something I plan to do is keep translating the book by my own (unfortunately hiring a professional translator it's not affordable in any way, it's really really expensive to do). If I had the whole book translated to English, then more opportunities could come.

2. About social media, Tumblr is easier to handle, because I have managed to reduce the time online by just using my computer and don't log in to Tumblr from my cellphone. Here you can block tags, Tumblr won't force unwanted content on you -except for the creepy ads- and etc... Instagram on the contrary is harder to manage since I can't post stories nor posts from the computer, it only allows you to do so by using your cellphone. And I've really tried to keep a schedule and avoid using it every day but it's difficult. I waste hours scrolling down Instagram. When I erase the app from my phone, it is easier to cope.

⭐ My plan so far, is that, I will take a break from instagram for a month... like an instagram detox. And later I will try to ask someone else to manage my account so I don't have to re-install. Or install the app to post once a week or something and erase it again, maybe. But I do not want it on my phone everyday.

3. About my art and projects: if I apply self criticism, I think that maybe a problem of my blog (Tumblr) and Instagram account is that, you, as an audience, can see the illustrations of my characters but you don't know much about them. You don't know what their personalities are, what makes them different, what are their stories about... And that happens because I haven't shown you that. My book is in Spanish and you haven't read my book. And I have not created enough content to show you anything. So, despite my art being beautiful, why would you care much about the characters if you can't get related to them in the first place? I know my characters because they are mine, I know the story because it's in my head (and in a book xD) but you don't.

⭐ So that said, what I plan to do, is to do more illustrations that "show" stories. Illustrations with little info, like "meet the character", and also do some very short comics so you can watch some scenes from the books. I didn't feel very comfortable with Webtoons (digital art does not make me happy tbh) but I will try to keep drawing traditional comics.

⭐ On not HadesxPersephone things, I'm finishing a coloring book of the Olympian gods (in chiby style!) and hopefully soon there will be more stickers, and there is another LGBT project I have about the gods (with cute stickers). So I have a lot of ideas, and it will be fun to take a break from Instagram to gain time and do all these things.

thanks a lot for reading and being here ❤️ it's really important for me. As some of you said, it's not about... having 10000k followers I don't even know, but loyal friends and followers who are close.

[blushingbaka]

the weight of a question;

|| summary - tamaki isn’t sure what possessed him to meet with you, but he finds he doesn’t really mind your questions

pairing: tamaki x journalist! reader genre: fluff length: 2.4k

✰ a/n: ahhh this literally has no right being this long... i was just kinda in my tamaki feels, and my brain decided to produce this lolol. the important takeaway here is that tamaki is a precious flower that deserves all the love and appreciation <3

Every second that Tamaki stared at that little red blinking light, his anxiety seemed to increase. He was all too aware of the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and his hands seemed permanently latched onto his thighs. Despite the mocking presence of the voice recorder, it was much easier to look at than the eyes of the person in front of him. As a hero, Tamaki has begrudgingly accepted the human interaction that comes along with it, but he’s never been one to engage in it when it’s unnecessary. This situation should have been avoidable, so the painful knot in his stomach seemed to ask why he’s here.

“Suneater-sama?” your melodious voice caused his ears to twitch and the grip on his thighs to tighten. You’re the reason he’s here. He’s ignored several requests for interviews before, so he can’t quite figure out why he accepted yours. Maybe you have some kind of persuasion quirk? No that’s ridiculous. He shook his head trying to rid himself of these useless thoughts.

“Uh Tamaki is fine” he managed to force out. Hearing you use his hero name made this whole interaction seem more formal, and that only increased his nerves. He willed himself to glance up at your face. Your lips stretched into a wide smile, but he couldn't bring himself to look directly into your eyes.

“Okay, Tamaki-san” his name seemed to fall out of your lips so easily, and his heart jumped inside his chest. He wasn’t sure which name had less effect on his nerves. He’s glad now that you offered to meet him in a cafe. It’s not loud enough to be disruptive, but the quiet chatter of those around you makes it easier to not be so flustered in your presence.

“How about we start with something easy?” You hummed glancing down at your notebook. You mindlessly took the tip of your pen between your teeth, brows furrowing, and Tamaki felt warmth rush to his cheeks.

“When did you decide you wanted to be a hero?” You rested your elbow on the table, palm cradling your cheek. Your attention was now fully on him rather than your notebook, and his tongue suddenly felt heavy in his mouth.

“Ever since elementary school I guess” he muttered, but remembering the voice recorder he realized he should speak louder. It would be embarrassing if you called him claiming you couldn’t make out any of his words, and then he might feel obligated to do this whole awkward ordeal over again.

“Yeah in elementary school.” He said again firmer and even leaned up a bit.

“Oh, wow” you leaned forward as if your curiosity was piqued, and he wondered then if he looked into your eyes if it lingered there as well. “At that age were you already thinking about how you could use your quirk as a hero?” There’s a genuine interest in your voice, and Tamaki felt his shoulders relax a bit. If someone was listening in, they might have thought this was a casual conversation between friends and not some romanticized interrogation. Your presence still prickled his nerves, but your voice was almost comforting. So a little bit more relaxed he was able to recount his childhood dream of becoming a hero and the small fantasies he entertained about what his future self would look like.

“I kind of had ridiculous expectations though. I think I would… I mean my younger self… would probably be a bit disappointed” he chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully.

“You think so?” You asked incredulously. “You went to the best hero academy in the country, where you were also known as one of ’The Big 3.’ Even as an intern in high school, you did pro-level hero work.” Tamaki’s eyes widened, surprised by your resolute tone.

“Well, Mirio was always the epitome of what a hero should be” Tamaki anxiously shuffled his feet, trying to dismiss your earlier statements. He half expected you, being a journalist, to push your point further, but you relaxed back in your seat, hand still cupping your cheek.

“Mirio... that was the childhood friend you mentioned earlier. You two kind of took your hero journey together, no?” You had a small smile on your face like you knew this was something he could easily talk about. He realized this assumption was correct as the words now flowed easier. He hardly fumbled over his words as he explained how hard Mirio worked in his quirk training, how positive he always was, the pillar he was to people, and how he actually gave Tamaki his hero name.

A feeling of satisfaction leaked into Tamaki when he accidentally caught your eyes and saw the sparkle of realization in them. “So that’s where Suneater comes from!” You wore a gleeful smile, and Tamaki felt his heart squeeze. He supposed it was your facial expressions that led him to accept your request for an interview. Tamaki often avoided looking at peoples’ faces, finding their expectant expressions daunting, but something about yours was endearing to him.

When you had approached him on patrol, he had pulled his hood a little lower, but you had tilted your head cutely to the side to find his eyes, resembling a puppy. You had smiled so brightly when you greeted him that he could hardly comprehend the words you were saying. It was only when you said the word ’interview’ that he realized you were using him to get in contact with Fat Gum or the popular intern Red Riot. He had been so confused when you insisted you wanted to interview him, and the hopeful glimmer in your eyes just somehow left him dazed. If it wasn’t for the piece of paper you had handed him with the cafe’s name and meeting time, he wouldn’t have even believed he agreed to it.

“I still don’t really get it” he found himself mumbling out loud. His stomach flipped when you do that adorable head tilt again, wrinkles forming in between your brows.

“Get what?” Your voice was soft and curious.

“You said you wanted a story about a rookie hero that will inspire the next generation, but I can think of several others that would serve that purpose better than me” faces flitted through his mind. Faces that inspired smiles and adoration wherever they go. Tamaki Amajiki didn’t think his face belonged with theirs’.

This time you leaned forward on both elbows, interlacing your fingers. You brought your hands up to your face gently pressing your index fingers to lips, which were slightly puckered in thought.

“I guess to me, you were the obvious option” your words came out slow like you were carefully thinking about what to say. He doesn’t mean to, but he instinctively let out a huff of disbelief. Your face didn't falter however and you continued speaking.

“I mean no one can doubt your amazing skills” you chuckle. “But there’s more to it than that. Despite the fear of inadequacy and failure you must feel inside, you approach every situation with calmness and resolve. I think that your presence makes citizens feel secure, and I think your insatiable desire for perfection can inspire future heroes.” your eyes were previously trained on the ceiling, but fell back to his, crinkling in a smile. “Mirio was right, you know? You are bigger than the sun, and people can’t help but notice you and feel awed by your presence”

Tamaki was so shaken by your words, he just stared at you, frozen in his seat. “You… you’re delusional” he finally coughed out, fighting the desire to cover his ears, which were undoubtedly red at the tips. He adverted his eyes, but in a few seconds, they were back on you, hearing you release a throaty, genuine laugh.

“You’re really stubborn Tamaki-san” you giggled, amusement laced heavy with your tone. “Don’t you hear how many people cheer your name?” Tamaki didn’t understand why you were so insistent on convincing him of his own greatness, but he did know if this conversation continued, he would get so flustered he wouldn’t be able to form a single word, much less a coherent thought.

“Don’t you have another question?” His voice came off harsher than he had meant it to, and he glanced up to spill out an apology, but your smile was still as wide as ever.

“Of course. Why don’t you tell me why you first decided to intern with Fat Gum?” you switched the topic with ease, and eventually, Tamaki found himself relaxing again.

It wasn’t until the soft golden glow of sunset settled over your features that Tamaki realized how long he had been talking to you. You had wrapped things up, however, and was now packing up your things, your conversation no longer being recorded.

“Thank you again for meeting me! I hope I didn’t make you feel too uncomfortable. I really just find you amazing, and I think it’s a shame you hide yourself in the shadows.” For the first time, it’s you who looked nervous, fingers toying with a napkin, and eyes cast downward. A warmness filled Tamaki, and he smiled fondly at you, even though you didn’t see that.

“Of course I’ll send you the article before I publish it. That way you and your PR agent can make sure it’s satisfactory. My agency has contact with Fat Gum’s so I’ll be able to get it to you that way.” your shyness evaporated, and Tamaki realized how strange it was to hear your professional tone. You had seemed so comfortable talking to him all afternoon, and Tamaki found himself forgetting the purpose of your chat. A feeling of dread fills him when he realized this may be the last time he talks to you. You were simply doing your job after all, but why is he disappointed now that he didn’t ask you any questions?

As you both stood up, Tamaki couldn't stand the thought of a farewell leaving your lips so he clenched his fist in an attempt to extinguish the doubt that weighed down heavy on him.

“Maybe I should still give you my phone number in case you have any more questions?” if he could find the courage to say those words, he could find the courage to see your reaction, so he forced himself to look you in the eyes as he spoke. Your eyes widened, and your mouth opened only to close again. Tamaki was scared his gaze was too intense because you looked down, fingers nervously toying with the strap of your bag, but a small smile worked its way onto your face.

“You better be careful opening that door Tamaki-san. I’m too curious for my own good, and might start asking you selfish questions” you teased, eyes glancing back up to meet his. You chewed on your bottom lip as you waited for his response, and Tamaki’s stomach flipped at the small action. He wanted to see more of your facial expressions. Next time you talked, he promised himself he would make a conscious effort to look into your eyes. He didn’t want to miss any emotion that flitted across them.

“I’ll allow yours if you allow mine” he bravely declared, and a smile tugged at his lips as he relished in the jubilant expression his words elicited from you.

-----------

The sight of your wide expressive eyes became something Tamaki would look forward to, and he never would have guessed there would come a day when he would stare into them so closely, his own forehead touching yours.

“Good morning” you lazily interlaced your fingers with his, a soft smile on your lips. He intertwined his legs with yours and pulled you closer with the hand that rested on your hip. He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips not sure he would ever get his fill of you.

“Morning” he replied huskily, sleep still coating his voice. Neither of you made an effort to move, contently basking in one another’s presence. Tamaki felt so at ease with you, and his words hardly had any time to weigh on his mind before they slipped out to you.

“I have a question.” He whispered, nose brushing against yours.

“Okay... there’s no reason to be shy now” you teased lightly. Your hands moved to the nape of his neck, your fingers instinctively playing with the tips of his hair. Your soothing actions stoked a warmness in him that he had become addicted to. This question should weigh heavier than any other he’s voiced before, but he knows he had a much harder time asking you where you wanted to eat on your first date. So much has happened since then, and it still wasn’t enough.

“Will you marry me?” There is no falter in his voice or hesitation, and your surprised expression stirred pleasant nostalgia in him. Your eyes were wide, and you opened your mouth before closing it again at a loss for words. It was just like your expression that day in the cafe.

“Tama are you serious?” You still stared at him in disbelief, sleepiness long gone from your features. There was a glimmer of hope in your eyes that Tamaki found himself drinking in gleefully.

“My questions typically are” he assured you rubbing a circle into your hip. A delighted noise escaped your mouth and you pulled him impossibly close chanting the word yes into his neck. Now of all times is when Tamaki’s embarrassment kicked in.

“I didn’t really mean to ask you this way. I had a whole dinner planned for us later this week, and Mirio is keeping the ring until then, but it just slipped out. Gosh, you really deserved a better proposal than this. It’s not roman-“ but his nervous rambling was cut off by your lips firmly pressing against his. When you pull back, Tamaki could see that your eyes were swimming with tears and adoration. You gently cupped his cheek, swiping your thumb across his cheekbone, and he leaned into your touch.

“It’s fine Tama. It was perfect actually.” He rolled his eyes at your statement, eliciting a chuckle from you. You pressed a quick peck to his nose before settling comfortably back into his arms, your head resting against his chest.

“Don’t be so stubborn. I said yes didn’t I?” You planted another kiss to his collarbone. In response to your question, he simply hugged your form tighter and pressed a swift kiss to the crown of your head. Yes, you did say yes, and a feeling of warm content washed back over him.

[css1992]

Such a softer sin

Summary: Tony is a self-made man. Peter is a sugar baby – someone else’s sugar baby.

When he turned to pull his chair out, the older man subtly checked out his ass and – of course, it was delicious, round and perky, two perfect handfuls. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the fact that he had a huge character flaw, a hamartia – he fucked people for money. He was basically a glorified whore, and if there was one thing Tony never had to do in his life was pay for sex, one way or another. So, really, he wouldn't start with – what was his name again?

Warnings: Explicit, 18+, mentions of non-con (not between main pairing, not explicit), age gap, power imbalance, employer/employee relationship, underage drinking. If you find anything triggering, please let me know!

Word count:18.4k

-x-

He was admittedly gorgeous, Tony could give him that. The honey brown eyes, the bouncy, fluffy curls and the clear, pale skin worked perfectly in his favor – he looked the part of the innocent, wholesome, young man ready to be swept off his feet and taken care of. Powerful men often liked that act, liked believing that they were deflowering innocence for the first time, liked believing they were wanted, needed. Tony knew better, though, he knew the type, he came across people like him all through his life.

When he was a broke, orphaned, half-starved college student, they wouldn’t give him the time of  day. Snobby, pretty, little things like him only had eyes and time for those who had money, or something to offer – fame, influence, status. At the time, Tony had nothing, he could barely afford to eat everyday. After he graduated from MIT, he started working for Hammer Industries and as he started making more money, slowly, these people started taking notice of him, and he, too, started paying closer attention to them.

They weren’t difficult to spot either, they were usually young, attractive, with beautiful, fake smiles, weak personalities and a penchant for expensive gifts. It was easy to recognize them hanging off powerful men’s arms at functions, and dinners, and galas; bespoke suits or designer dresses covering their bodies, not a lot to add to the conversation. They were accessories, trophies. Pets.

Tony hated them. People who wanted to be at the very top, but couldn’t be bothered to take the stairs. They would use their pretty faces, feigned innocence, beautiful bodies and cute, fake laughs, to get farther faster. Not Tony. He did it the right way – the hard way –, worked day and night to get to his goal, got beat down so many times there were days he thought he wouldn’t be able to stand back up, but he did, every single time.

And time and experience made him wiser, smarter and bitter. At 40, he was finally able to start his own company, Stark Industries, it started small, but his genius inventions put his name on the map fairly quickly. That was how, five years later, he found himself having dinner with Norman Osborn, the most powerful man in New York, and his – boy toy? Sugar baby? Escort? Or something – discussing the possibility of a deal so big it could finally make Stark Industries live up to its full potential.

“So what I’m saying is that we can offer you the best and most advanced technology out there: my nanobots. I guarantee you it will make your job easier, faster and cheaper in the long run. I assure you, this a great deal and you should take it.” Tony was absolutely sure of what he was saying, he knew his product was good, his tech was flawless, he just needed to get it out there. He just needed a company like Oscorps to believe in him, then his work would speak for itself.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Stark, I think this whole nanotech thing is way too expensive and unnecessary, specially considering that I’m pretty sure Baintronics could do the same work for half the price, the old-fashioned way, which has been working just fine for the past decade.” Fuck, no, that old bat wasn’t looking at the big picture, he wasn’t thinking about the long run. Of course old tech would still get the job done, but Tony’s tech could do such a better job and so much more efficiently.

“No, but you see, that’s–”

“But –“ Norman raised a hand, successfully shutting Tony up and annoying the living hell out of him in the process. One day, he thought to himself, one day I’ll be able to say ‘fuck you’ to men like Norman Osborn. One day. “I’m willing to give it a try. Peter here says you’re the best at what you do, he’s the one who recommended that I agreed to meet with you, actually, when your PA called.”

Tony was taken aback by that information and eyed the young man carefully, causing him to blush a deep red and lower his gaze with a small, timid smile. Tony thought he was faking the whole thing, trying to be cute and sweet, but fuck – it worked for him. He seemed really young, maybe in his early twenties, and Tony had no idea how he could have heard of him, he wasn’t exactly famous, nor was S.I. His breakthroughs were only ever published in very specific scientific journals.

“I’m a huge fan of your work, Mr. Stark, I’ve always told Norman you two should work together, you’re both men ahead of your time.” He said quietly. He had a high-pitched, slightly feminine voice, which probably also worked in his favor with men like Osborn. It made him sound younger than he probably was, easier to manipulate and dominate.

Reluctantly, Tony accepted the compliment with a tight smile. He really needed that deal, he really needed for that to work, it would be the break SI needed, he could feel it, he could already taste the success.

“Very well, so here’s my offer. You will supply Oscorps with your nanotech for a year, then we can take it from there. This would be your cut for this first year.” Osborn wrote something down on a piece of paper and slid it towards Tony across the table. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the numbers – and the amount of zeros –, but he pretended to be cool about it, he even put on a show of looking slightly disappointed. “And there’s a lot more where this comes from, Stark. This could be the beginning of a beautiful, and mutually beneficial, friendship.”

“I do hope it is, Mr. Osborn. I look forward to working with your company. I’m sure we’re gonna be a great fit.” Tony tried to sound cool and professional, but he was having a little heart attack on the inside. He had been trying to schedule a meeting with Norman for months and the billionaire – or, most likely, his PA – kept making excuses. Now there he was, closing a huge deal with the promise of a mutually beneficial friendship in the future.

After that, he could breathe more easily during dinner. He couldn’t wait to tell Pepper, Bruce and Nat, though, they had to celebrate properly, maybe they could all go to his apartment and finally crack open that Macallan he bought when he made his first million. But meanwhile, he was stuck in the restaurant with Norman and his boy-toy, which he wouldn’t complain too much about, at least it was a nice view.

Again, there was no denial that the boy was beautiful. There was just something naturally sensual and charismatic about him, Tony couldn’t avoid looking his way, even when he wasn’t talking. And when he did talk, it was magnetic. He didn’t say much, as Tony expected, but what he didn’t expect was for him to be so smart. The few times he said anything was to ask questions about his tech, and those were surprisingly pertinent. Sometime along the night, Tony figured out that he was studying to become a mechanical engineer at Columbia and he wondered if Norman had anything to do with it – probably.

Tony was reminded of his own college years, of how he had to work his ass off to get a scholarship, and how many crazy hours he had to work to make ends meet, just to be able to build something for himself. He didn’t seek the help of men like Norman, although he could have. The name Stark meant something, once upon a time. His father was considered a gifted inventor, he was respected by huge companies, but he never built anything of his own.

When he died, Tony was only eleven. He still didn’t know exactly what happened, but soon after that, his mother lost everything he had left – which wasn’t much to begin with. She was never quite herself again, she was so depressed, she never even smiled anymore, she sometimes didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, Tony was the one doing the house chores, cooking for her, trying to make sure she was okay. She died eight years later from an aneurysm, Tony found her lying on the couch, looking peaceful for the first time in so many years.

In short, he never had it easy, and he never tried to make it easier for himself either – at least not in shady ways. He just wanted to do the right thing, even if it took longer – which it did. He was a forty-five year old man, but he made a name for himself, the name Stark held respect once again.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” The young man got up after a quick peck to Norman’s lips and headed to the bathroom. Tony made a huge effort and pointedly did not stare at his ass as he left. He was really proud of himself for that, maybe two years earlier he wouldn’t have been able to pull that off, he had no shame. At least now he had some. A little. Sort of.

“What do you think of him?” Norman had a neutral expression on, he gave nothing away, but it seemed like a test. What sort of question was that, why did it matter what Tony thought of his fuck toy?

“He seems really smart,” he answered with a small smile. It was a polite, diplomatic answer, and not untrue.

“What else?” Norman pushed, with a knowing smirk, and Tony almost cursed under his breath, thinking that maybe he’d been too obvious with his staring all through dinner, after all.

“He’s very pretty,” he admitted, although still with his cool, professional face on. Norman’s smirk grew wider.

“He sure is. Cute pet. Smart, polite, funny. You should get one for yourself, Stark. They’re kinda expensive, but worth every penny.” His shark-like smile took over his whole face and Tony had to fight back a grimace. He just smiled and shook his head no.

“Not really my style, sir.” Buying people, paying for sex, that sort of thing, he wanted to add.

“It’s not anyone’s style until it is.” He gave Tony a once over and smirked. “We’re not getting any younger.” The engineer was offended, he wanted to tell him he aged like good wine, unlike certain people, but refrained. He just gave him a strained smile and took a sip of his drink.  

As if on cue, the pretty boy returned to the table and Tony took a couple of seconds to appreciate his outfit. He wore a dark blue suit, very elegant and very expensive looking, certainly a gift from Osborn, and it fit him like a glove. Tony supposed it was bespoke. It complimented his lithe, lean body beautifully.

When he turned around to pull his chair out, the older man subtly checked out his ass and – of course, it was delicious, round and perky, two perfect handfuls. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the fact that he had a huge character flaw, a hamartia – he fucked people for money. He was basically a glorified whore, and if there was one thing Tony never had to do in his life was pay for sex, one way or another. So, really, he wouldn't start with – what was his name again?

“So, come by the office on Monday, we’ll talk over all the details, then you can take the draft contract to your legal team and we can meet again – say, in another week?”

“Yeah, sure, this sounds perfect,” he answered coolly, not mentioning that his “legal team” consisted of one single Natasha Romanoff, who would have his balls for dinner when she found out that she would only have seven days to look over what was bound to be a very long, very complex contract.

“Well, then, Mr. Stark. You’ve got yourself a deal.” Norman got up from his chair, what clearly meant dinner was over, and Tony rushed to his feet, offering his had to shake.

“You won’t regret this, sir,” he spoke in a strong, firm voice, because he was positive of it.

“Good.” Osborn shook his hand once and turned to leave without saying goodbye.

“It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Stark, I hope we’ll see each other again soon.” The pretty boy took his hand as well, eyes glinting, a coy smile on his face. Tony couldn’t tell if he was flirting or if he was pretending to be shy, but he ignored it and just nodded curtly.

“Thank you, it’s been a pleasure to meet you, too.” He didn’t dare try to remember his name, Tony was pretty sure it started with a P, but he wouldn’t risk it.

As soon as they left the restaurant, the CEO punched the air in celebration, calling Pepper right away.

---*---

The meeting on Monday went smoothly, they agreed that Tony would be personally charged with the maintenance of his tech at least a week a month – he made it seem like it was a courtesy, but, in reality, he still didn’t have anyone on his team who could do the job quite as well as he could. They also agreed that he would have a small team of five scientists at his disposal during such period, so he wouldn’t have to dislodge anyone from his company to do it – again, he didn’t mention that five people were basically half of his scientific team and he couldn’t afford them not working for SI for a whole week each month.

As expected, he didn’t see the pretty boy in the meeting, Tony supposed he only made an appearance in social functions and such, so he could make Norman look good. To Tony’s surprise, though, seven days later, after Natasha bullied him into promising a 10% raise after the shit he’d pulled with the contract, the pretty boy was in the meeting room when he arrived to sign the deal. Norman’s PA and a few of his lawyers were there as well, Tony was with Pepper and Natasha, and he quickly whispered to Pepper that he was the boy he’d told her about. He approached them with a shy, nervous smile and Tony almost wanted to roll his eyes at the facade.

“Hi, I’m Peter Parker, I’m an intern here.” Ah, Peter. That sounded about right. Tony thought it was something along those lines. And he was an intern for Oscorps, of course. What a joke. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Stark. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Hello, Mr. Parker, this is Miss Potts, my assistant, and this is Miss Romanoff, head of my legal team. I’ll have a coffee – black, no sugar. Thank you.” Again, he kept it professional and barely even looked at the kid, he knew what he looked like and he knew he was off limits, so why tease himself by looking?

“I’m good.” Natasha smiled sweetly, making the boy blush even harder.

“I’ll have the same as Mr. Stark, thank you, Mr. Parker.” Peter quickly turned and headed out of the room and Pepper turned to whisper to him. “You weren’t kidding, he’s really fucking young, he looks like he could be Norman’s grandson, for Christ’s sake.” Tony snorted and Natasha eyed them knowingly, but with a look that screamed “behave” and they both schooled their expressions. Shortly after, the boy walked back in with their coffee and they thanked him, as he blushed and nodded, taking a seat to the left of what should be Osborn’s chair.  

The meeting didn’t take long at all, everything had already been discussed, it was just a formality, so barely twenty minutes later they were all getting up from their seats, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. Tony was almost out of the room when he felt a hand at his elbow followed by a softly spoken, “Mr. Stark, can I have a word?”.

Of course the devil himself would tempt him, even if Tony was trying to be good. He was forced to turn around and actually look at the young man, he was wearing a lavender dress shirt, with a dark gray tie and black pants. He looked like the cutest little businessman ever, and Tony was sure that if Peter were to turn his back, he would be presented with his perfect bubble butt looking amazing in those slacks, but – he was the forbidden fruit. Besides, Tony mused, he probably couldn’t afford a single night with Peter, he was only a millionaire, after all, and he’d rather spend his money on shiny things and get his lays for free.

“Yes, Mr. Parker?” The boy’s cheeks were impossibly red and Tony figured he couldn’t really fake that, so he supposed he really was shy to some degree. He looked over his shoulder and saw Pepper and Natasha waiting just outside the door, warning looks on their faces, and he rolled his eyes.

“I was wondering – I talked to No--, I mean, Mr. Osborn, about the possibility of maybe, uhm. Working with you? When you come to do the maintenance, I mean. It’s just, we don’t really have an engineering department, so you would be working mainly with biochemists and a few lab techs, so I thought maybe I could assist you with the hands-on work, you know? I don’t know if Mr. Osborn mentioned, but I’m studying to become a mechanical engineer as well and it would be an honor working with you, sir. Mr. Osborn said it was ok as long as you agreed, so...” He shuffled his feet and avoided looking at the older man.

“Look, kid.” Tony sighed, because, fuck. How could he say no to Norman’s boy without being rude? And how could he say yes to working with someone who was clearly useless to him and would only serve as a distraction – and worse, a temptation. He needed a way out of that. “I don’t really know if there would be much for you to do, I mean, it’s pretty new and advanced technology, and you’re, what, a freshman, right?”

“Actually, I’ll graduate next fall, sir.” Tony was taken aback by that and it must have shown on his face if Peter’s answering blush was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry, how old are you again?” He asked, trying not to sound too rude.

“I’ll be twenty in August, sir.” If Tony was impressed by that, he didn’t let it show, but if the kid would manage to graduate from Columbia at twenty, then he must not be that useless after all, but Tony wouldn’t hold his breath.

“Very well, then. I guess I’ll see you in a month, Mr. Parker.” He nodded and Peter could barely contain his grin when he shook his hand excitedly. It was cute and endearing and – oh, God, Tony almost fell for his little act. Fuck, he really needed to be on his toes around that guy.

“Thank you, sir, I really appreciate it!”

As soon as Tony stepped out of the building and headed towards his car with Natasha and Pepper on his heels, the Russian red-head looked at him seriously.

“Tony, I swear to God, if you try to get your dick wet with that boy, I quit. I’m not even gonna start on how much legal and PR trouble you’re gonna get yourself into by fucking Norman’s boyfriend, specially considering he’s, like, twelve, and happens to work for your business partner. Don’t fuck this up!” She warned as she got inside the car and, again, Tony had to roll his eyes as he got behind the wheel.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie, if the circumstances were different, I’d be all over that,” he admitted, noticing Pep’s aggravated look. “But of course I’m not gonna do anything to jeopardize this deal, ok? Besides, you know how I feel about gold diggers. You saw him and you saw Osborn, why in the fucking hell a guy like him would fuck a mummy like Osborn? He’s, like, a hundred years old!”

“He’s fifty five, and I don’t know if you know this, Tony, but people have sex for reasons that go beyond appearances. You know, like love, affinity, connection –”

“-- Money, fame, status. C’mon, Pep, don’t be naive. Do you really think that boy loves Osborn? He just likes expensive restaurants and fancy cars. Maybe, if he’s thinking big, he’s gonna use him to get a good job after graduation, but that’s it.”

“Well, then, if you think he’s such a terrible person, you’ll have no problem staying the hell away from him, right?” She looked at him with narrowed eyes and he looked away from the traffic for a second to smirk at her.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, easy breezy.”

--*--

As it turned out, it wasn’t easy breezy.

Peter was like a lost puppy trailing after him the following month, he spent the whole week glued to his hip, asking questions, making suggestions, and even supplying him with a never ending amount of coffee. If Tony was a hundred percent honest, he kinda liked it. The kid seriously treated him like a hero, a celebrity, he seemed to look up to him and, in the end, he proved to be a valuable asset on the team. He was really smart and hardworking, he understood everything Tony was saying even before he was done talking and he had really steady, tiny hands, which were always useful with nanotech.

Tony couldn’t really stay away from him and slowly learned a few things about him from what little information he stuttered out when answering his questions. First, the older man learned that he got into Columbia when he was only sixteen, which was kind of amazing, if he was being completely honest. Tony wanted to believe that that had happened way before he met Norman Osborn, but he didn’t really know when they met.

He had a scholarship and lived with his aunt until she passed away a little over a year earlier and now he shared an apartment with four other people, which surprised Tony, he figured Norman would have hooked him up with a nice place – but then again, he had no idea when they met, it could have been only months earlier. Peter said that, originally, he wanted to go to MIT, but he only got a partial scholarship there, so he had to give it up and go to Columbia. He also said that that was how he knew Tony beforehand. The older man was sort of a famous MIT alumnus, specially among the engineering students, so Peter heard of him and followed his work through scientific publications, which was – well, Tony was flattered.

Even if those bits of information somewhat made Tony warm up to the young man, other few things still annoyed him just as much. First of all, clearly Peter was a very bright kid, possibly one of the smartest people Tony knew besides himself and Bruce, he didn’t really need Norman’s influence to succeed, and still, there he was. Second, he quickly picked up on the fact that Peter wasn’t exactly Norman’s boyfriend, he was more of a… Sugar baby? And one of many, actually, although he seemed to be the favorite. After Tony signed the deal, he started paying closer attention to what tabloids said about Norman and apparently he had a very long list of (young) lovers, but he was officially single.

Somehow, that made Tony even more disgusted by their relationship. He just couldn’t understand why a guy like Peter would put himself in that position, for what? Money? A job? What was it that Norman could offer him that he couldn’t get himself? The thing was, Peter kind of reminded Tony of himself at that age. He was pretty much in the same situation: he had no family and no money, he only had his brains – and while Tony had made something out of it, Peter was trying to take a shortcut and the engineer didn’t appreciate that.

“Here, check this out, see how they respond a lot faster now?” Tony made room so that the younger man could look through the microscope, a wide grin spreading across his face in a few seconds. “You have to think of them as neurons, they communicate with each other by electrical pulses, similar to synapses. For that to work out perfectly and seamlessly, they need to be really close by, without touching, that’s why the electromagnetic field has to be perfect, if it’s just a tiny bit off, the response time increases exponentially. Got it?”

“Got it, Mr. Stark!” He answered excitedly and Tony smiled at him.

“Well, my work here is done. See you next month?” Tony got up from his chair, gathering his things around the lab.

“I can’t wait." Somehow, Tony knew he actually meant it.

The following month, Peter was just as helpful and just as excited as the month before. He was in the lab before Tony – who was always early himself – and he always greeted him with a bright smile and an excited wave of his hand. As the engineer settled his things on his work bench, Peter would get him coffee, and he always remembered how Tony liked it. They got right to work, which they did everyday for a week without any disruption. The intern always offered to stay late, but Tony never took him up on that, he knew he had classes in the afternoon and he didn’t want him to get in trouble. Just as he was starting to warm up to him, though, on Friday, the engineer was reminded why he didn’t like him in the first place.

“You’re late, Mr. Parker.” Tony mumbled from his seat in front of the microscope as soon as he heard the glass door open with a hiss as the smell of coffee filled the room. Peter was only twelve minutes late, but it was only their second week working together, it didn’t seem very professional.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark, I was – uh, in a meeting with Mr. Osborn.” He lied through his teeth, Tony could almost smell the nervousness when he came close enough. He hated being lied to, specially when he knew what Peter was probably doing in that “meeting”. It was just inexcusable.

“Just because you’re Norman’s boy doesn’t mean you get special treatment in this lab, you hear me? I don’t care what you do with him all the other weeks that I’m not here, but if you wanna be a part of my team, during my lab hours, you gotta be here and on time. Are we clear?” He didn’t bother lifting his eyes from the microscope and almost missed the whispered and wavered, “yes, sir” that Peter let out. When he turned to the younger man, his eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were rumpled, his face ashen and his lower lip was wobbling, he looked like he had a rough night and an early morning, and he looked like he was holding back tears. Tony almost regretted the harsh treatment. Almost. “Is this my coffee?” He pointed at the cup, averting his gaze.

“Yes, sir.” He answered quickly, offering the beverage like a gift.

On his third month there, Tony tried to keep his distance from the younger man. He promised Natasha and Pepper that he would and, up until that point, he hadn’t been very successful. So during the week of March that he had to go to Oscorps, he avoided the younger man, made himself unavailable and charged him with boring and complicated tasks that should take all week to get done. Still, the boy did everything he was told and only took half the time expected, he was always on time and always, always brought him coffee, just the way he liked it. It was really hard to ignore him.  

“You know you don’t have to bring me coffee, right? It’s not in your job description.” Tony felt the need to point out on Friday when he saw the boy walking in with the beverage, but he just shrugged and smiled a little.

“I know, I just want to make sure you have everything you need, sir. Besides, I used to work at a coffee shop, I don’t mind making your coffee.” When he said that, Tony’s brows shot into his hairline.

“You made this?” He asked, incredulously, and the boy cocked his head in confusion.

“Yeah, where did you think this came from?” He frowned, amused.

“Uh, I don’t know, some fucking gourmet coffee shop downstairs?” Peter laughed, genuinely laughed, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled in the most endearing way, as he shook his head.

“You’re funny, Mr. Stark.”  

Peter was the funny one, actually, and the whole thing was just so confusing to Tony. He thought he had the younger man all figured out, he thought he knew what kind of person he was, what he was after, but sometimes Peter would do or say things that just didn’t add up to Tony’s assumptions. The boy was kind and generous and humble, he was proactive and hardworking, and so annoyingly nice. He was easy to talk to, too, sometimes they’d have whole conversations about the most random subjects as they worked and Tony would only realize what they did at the end of the day, as he left and Peter waved at him with that charming smile and it made something burn in Tony’s chest and he couldn’t figure out why.  

On his fourth month there, Peter surprised him on the first day. He brought him coffee in a mug that read: “If it ain’t broke, take it apart and fix it”. Usually, his coffee was put in a styrofoam cup with Oscorps logo on it, he had no idea where the mug came from, and when he asked, the boy blushed slightly, shuffling his feet.

“Uhm, actually – I heard it was your birthday last week, so I just – I mean, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be inappropriate or anything, it’s just – the environment and stuff. So. Uh – happy birthday?” He looked really uncomfortable just saying that, and Tony was equal parts amused and amazed, so he  dropped his eyes back to the simple, white mug with bright red letters.

“That’s – actually really nice, Peter. Thank you.” He looked back at the young man and his cheeks were burning red. It was really… fucking cute. Fuck.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Stark.” His answering tiny smile warmed the older man’s heart, but he swallowed whatever feeling dared to emerge.

By Tony’s fifth month working with Oscorps, things finally started to feel natural, pleasant. When he arrived in the morning, he greeted everyone by name, threw smiles and flirty comments here and there and walked the hallways like he owned the place. His team worked like a well-oiled machine and they were always early, specially Peter, after that one time he was late. When he arrived, they already had a head start on him, which was always good, and they were able to go home a little earlier everyday.

“Good morning, everybody.” Tony raised his head when he heard Norman’s voice, a little surprised. Aside from his first day there, he hadn’t seen the old man at all, so it was weird for him to be in the lab, specially so early.

“Mr. Osborn, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Tony asked, watching closely as the older man walked towards Peter, who avoided his gaze furiously, pretending to be focused on his work, although it was clear that he was barely breathing. Norman grinned in his direction, but didn’t say anything, and Tony raised an eyebrow at the interaction.

“Miss Watson let me know you would be here today, so I thought I’d personally invite you to our annual Charity Gala, it will take place next month, on the eleventh. Will you be able to make it?”

“Yes, of course, sir, I can move some stuff around.” Fucking hell, he hated those functions. A bunch of assholes kissing other assholes’s butts and pretending to be good citizens by donating to charity only for the press. Just his type of event. But nonetheless, the type of event he needed to be seen in, someplace where he could meet people and make connections.

“Great, I’ll send the formal invitation to Stark Industries, I look forward to seeing you there. Mr. Stark.” He nodded in his direction and Tony did the same. “Mr. Parker.” He turned towards the young man who still hadn’t looked up. His cheeks burned a bright red when he looked at the older man.

“Mr. Osborn.” He gritted his teeth and, again, Norman grinned, buttoning his suit jacket as he left the lab.

Hm. Odd.

--*--

“At least pretend to be having a good time, Tony.” Pepper whispered through her teeth, a fake smile plastered on as she waved to people Tony could barely recognize. She was wearing a beautiful blue gown, his birthday gift to her, apparently, and not for the first time Tony wondered what would have been if he hadn’t blown things up with her. If he hadn’t cheated on her with half the city when they were in college. He was a stupid, stupid boy in his twenties. And thirties. And early forties.

It was a work in progress.

“I am pretending, don’t I look convincing?” He turned to look at her with what he was certain was a terrible grimace and she snorted into her champagne glass, causing them both to giggle like stupid teenagers. He was glad she had agreed to go as his plus one, he would have blown his brains for sure if he was alone in there.

“Good evening, Mr. Stark.” Ah, Tony could recognize that sweetly high-pitched voice from miles away, but when he turned around he wasn’t ready for such a vision. Peter was wearing a gorgeous burgundy suit with a black, silk shirt underneath, as well as a black tie. His hair was perfectly swept to the side, his curls tamed for once, but still showing at the nape of his neck. He looked absolutely beautiful and fucking expensive. Tony wanted to unwrap him, then wreck him in the best possible way. “And Miss Potts, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker, it’s nice to see you again,” she answered pleasantly and Tony was glad she was there because he was sure that he was staring for way too long to be polite. He cleared his throat and smiled at the young man, who quickly slipped into character looking shyly at him from under his eyelashes.

“Mr. Parker, fancy seeing you here,” Tony spoke confidently, subtly looking around for Norman, but he was nowhere to be seen. “And where’s Mr. Osborn?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him.” He averted his gaze, his tiny and usually steady hands trembling a little, before closing into fists. “Well, it was nice seeing you –“

“Hey, c’mon, have a drink with us,” Tony interrupted him, sensing his discomfort.

“Oh, uh – I’m sorry, sir, I’m not old enough to drink.” Tony was almost taken aback by that fact. The amount of information that he carried in that brilliant brain of his did not compute with his age.

“I won’t tell if you don’t. Neither will Miss Potts, right?” Tony turned to look at Pepper, only to see her staring daggers at him, in a way that probably only he could tell, they had a special way of communicating, so he quickly sent her a “what?” glare and she sighed.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear any of this and I’m just gonna go talk to Mrs. Bain, if you’ll excuse me, please.” She smiled sweetly at Peter and walked away from them, as Tony rolled his eyes.

“Well, her loss.” The older man shrugged, grabbing two champagne glasses from a passing waiter. “Have you ever had one of these?” He asked, offering him one of the glasses. “I’m not corrupting you, am I?” Tony asked charmingly, with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow. Peter giggled,  blushing and shaking his head no.

“No, it’s okay, Norman usually gets me a few drinks when we’re out,” he answered, accepting the glass. Just the mention of the older man had Tony deflating slightly, reminded of the fact that Peter couldn’t be his.

“So, how come you didn’t come together?” He asked innocently, although he knew it was probably a touchy subject. The younger man took a long sip of his drink, licking his wet lips once he was done, and Tony wished it was his tongue running across those thin, pink lips.

“He’d rather bring another date, so.” He shrugged with a small, fake smile, and quickly changed the subject. “I’ve recently read that you’re working on a holographic system that’s supposed to connect with the user's hippocampus and project their memories, is that true?” Tony was surprised by that, he had written a paper about it with Bruce not long before, Peter must really keep up with his work.

“Yeah, but I’m in a bit of a pickle right now, got stuck with the neuroscience portion of it.” Tony scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed about the admission, but Peter only smiled wider.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. And it’s gonna be groundbreaking. Again. Well, it seems like everything you do changes the world somehow.” His cheeks were flushed, and maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe Tony was falling for Peter’s little game, but he thought he was actually flirting with him. Really flirting, not “I wanna be your sugar baby” flirting.

“That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in me, kid.” Tony dared to step a little closer to him and the young man bit his lower lip, holding back a smile, cheeks flushing pink.

“Yeah, but I think you can back it up.” He tilted his head back a little to look up at the older man. Tony held his gaze for a few seconds, before he dropped it to his lips. He smiled when the young man nervously licked them.

“I’m sorry I’m too hard on you in the lab. I just don’t want anyone thinking that I treat you differently because of the boss.” Tony took yet another step and Peter didn’t move an inch, allowing him to get closer and closer.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just thankful to be in your team, I’m learning a lot.” This time, Tony was sure he wasn’t imagining things, Peter’s eyes definitely dropped to stare at his lips and the engineer inhaled sharply.

“Peter –“

“Ah, there you are.” Norman appeared out of thin air and Tony took three steps back, a cool smile on his face. Osborn was accompanied by a gorgeous blonde girl who couldn’t be older than twenty five, she was tall and slender, and looked like a supermodel – and she probably was. “Good evening, Mr. Stark. Pete.”

“Good evening, Mr. Osborn,” Tony answered with a schooled smile, not sure if he was in trouble for giving Peter champagne, but the CEO barely seemed to notice it when he turned to the younger man, who didn’t even bother to answer him.

“How do you like the party so far?” He asked politely, although his gaze was fixed on Peter. His date seemed bored out of her mind, but she eyed Tony with interest and the older man had to avert his gaze, he really didn’t need yet another sin to avoid.

“It’s great, sir,” Tony answered politely, but the older man didn’t really seem to care.

“Good, good. Do you mind if I borrow Peter for a little while?” He eyed the younger man and Peter grit his teeth, his hand tightening around the champagne flute.

“No, sure, he’s all yours.” He gestured towards the boy and he looked back at him with a look of betrayal on his face. Tony raised his eyebrows, not sure what Peter expected him to do, but the young man rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Come on, Peter, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” And with that, he led the way, confident that the boy would follow behind, which he did, after downing the rest of his drink, shooting one last pleading look Tony’s way. Again, the older man had no idea what he wanted.  

Once they left, Tony quickly found Pepper in the crowd as she chatted with Justin Hammer, the biggest asshole to ever exist in the corporate world. He stole all of Tony’s projects when the engineer worked for him, all the weapons the U.S.A. Army used ten years earlier were designed by Tony and he never got any credit for that. Two years after he quit Hammer Industries, they lost that contract because they simply had nothing new to offer.  

“Good evening, Mr Hammer, if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna take my date elsewhere, someplace where the toxicity level is more bearable. Bye.” Tony interrupted them unceremoniously and steered Pepper away from him as she threw apologies over her shoulder. “Don’t apologize to him, he’s trash.”

“Tony, you can’t act like this if you wanna be the CEO of the biggest tech company in the country. You need to make connections and keep good relation –“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that with anyone else, except for him, promise.” He rolled his eyes once they got to the bar, where he leaned on the counter and flirted with the barman, before ordering two drinks.

“Great, then I hope you intend to keep a good relationship with Mr. Osborn,” she whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was listening. “Just a quick reminder: fucking his boyfriend is not very friendly.”

“Peter’s not his boyfriend,” he answered automatically, before taking a sip of his scotch, his eyes scanning the room until he found the younger man in a small circle of people, along with Mr. Osborn and his date. Tony hated that so much, the boy looked devastated but he was still there. Why the fuck was he still there? He didn’t need that shit. “They didn’t even come together today.”

“Okay, not the answer I was looking for, not a reassuring answer at all.” Pepper spoke to herself under her breath, then grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look at her. “Tony Stark, I hope you’re not –“

“Jesus, relax!” He snapped, freeing his face from her grip. “You and Natasha are driving me mad with this, I swear to God, the more you tell me not to do it, the more I wanna do it, just out of spite. Leave it alone, will ya?”

“Fine, whatever, do what you want, that always works out perfectly for you,” she snapped right back, taking her drink from the counter and walking away from him. “Don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face!”

Tony ignored her, they always had those arguments – she was usually right, Tony usually fucked up somehow and he usually went crying to her anyway, and she always helped him, so whatever. He was slightly tipsy, anyway, he would regret the whole thing in the morning, but right at that moment he was focused on Peter. The young man seemed really uncomfortable and out of place where he stood, among a few businessmen, but he was still there.  

Norman stood to his left with his date, talking animatedly with the other men. To Peter’s right, there was a tall, slender man, in his early forties, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off of the boy. Sometimes he would whisper things in his ear, eliciting a small, polite smile from him, but no answer. Some other times he would rest a hand on his waist for no particular reason and Tony would watch with amusement as the boy tried to get away politely. Norman watched the whole interaction discreetly, carefully, but didn’t intervene.

Eventually, Peter excused himself and headed towards the bathroom. Tony watched the other man and, sure enough, he followed him there a few seconds later, under Norman’s intense gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. Tony quickly understood what was probably going on. Again, the older man was disappointed in the boy. Such a smart kid, with so much potential, he could do so much better. Tony turned towards the bar, ordering another scotch. Since he was there, with no date, and nothing else to do, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few drinks.

Several minutes later, he was leaning against the bar, talking to Mr. Zimmer, the CEO of Accutech, and actually scored a meeting for the following week to pitch his nanobots. After his deal with Oscorps, he was able to close two smaller ones and had a few more meetings scheduled. As he imagined, people took notice of Stark Industries after that. Having such a huge, important company such as Oscorps trusting SI meant a lot to potential partners.

As soon as Mr. Zimmer left, Tony saw Peter rushing across the room and out the door. He seemed really upset and agitated, so the older man followed him outside. When he found him again, Peter seemed a little lost. He looked around, as if he didn’t really know which way to go – the gala was held in one of Osborn’s mansions upstate and even leaving the premises was difficult to do without a car, the property was huge. He checked his phone, then, but Tony noticed the screen didn’t light up, it was probably dead. The kid ran his hands through his hair, seemingly desperate, and finally Tony decided to put him out of his misery.

“Hey, kid.” He stepped closer to the boy and he turned quickly, almost as if he was ready to throw a punch or something. “Whoa, there!” Tony held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, examining the boy’s face. He looked distressed, his eyes and face were red and he was a little out of breath. “Hey, are you ok? Do you need a ride home?” His eyes lit up in relief, his face relaxing instantly.

“Would you mind?” He almost pleaded and Tony was a little taken aback by the tone. “It’s just – my phone’s dead and – I just really need to get home.”

“Sure, kid, it’s fine, I was heading home anyway, c’mon.” Tony asked a valet to bring his car around and watched Peter as the younger man seemed to calm down slowly, but he was still acting a little out of sorts as they waited for the car to arrive. “Is everything okay, Peter?”

“Yeah, sure, just a little tired, I guess.” He lied, a fake smile on his face. He was easy to read, most of the time, when he wasn’t trying to attract older, rich men, Tony supposed.

Once the valet brought the car around, Tony opened the door for Peter, who quickly slipped inside like it was an oasis. Tony tipped the valet and joined the younger man, noticing that he seemed almost relieved to be leaving the party.

“Rough night?” Tony asked conversationally once he started the car, pulling away from the driveway. It was a stupid question, but he couldn’t help it.

“Try rough couple of months,” he scoffed, running a hand though his once tamed hair, elbow resting against the window.

“Wanna talk about it?” He looked at the younger man from the corner of his eye and saw him shake his head weakly.

“Not really,” he mumbled and they fell silent. Tony wanted to say something else, but Peter didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk, so he just drove for a few minutes, heading for the city, when the kid spoke up again. “I’m so sorry for the trouble, you can drop me off anywhere, I’ll just take the subway.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll drive you home. Where is home, by the way?” Tony knew Peter lived with four other students close to campus, but he didn’t know where exactly.

“Harlem.” He sighed, sounding annoyed. “Ugh, that’s the last place I want to be right now,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Why? Trouble with your roommates?” Tony raised a brow and the boy shook his head a little.

“Not really, they’re just really loud, specially on weekends. They probably have people over right now and I’m not in the mood, it’s all.” He gave him a tiny smile, but he didn’t really mean it.

“Tell you what,” Tony started, choosing his next words carefully. “Why don’t you come to my place?” He saw from the corner of his eye when Peter almost broke his neck turning to look at him in surprise. “Just for a few hours, so you can cool down some. We can have a few drinks, grab a bite to eat, and once you’re feeling better, I’ll drive you home. Or you can crash there, whatever you prefer. What do you say?” He turned to look at the young man and his eyes were wide, mouth agape in shock. Tony almost wanted to laugh.

“Uh – I don’t – I don’t want to be a bother, sir, you’ve alre--”

“Don’t be silly, I wouldn’t be offering if it was a bother. You don’t need to say yes if you don’t want to, but if you do, you’ll make this old man very happy, I wouldn’t mind some company tonight.” Tony smiled charmingly at him and Peter blushed, the older man could tell there were a million things going through his head.

“Uhm. Okay. Yeah, sure.” He nodded and Tony’s heart did a little flip in his chest and he didn’t even know why. If he was honest, he had no idea what he was doing or why he was doing it, he just wasn’t ready to let the younger man go.

The rest of the drive was long and mostly silent. Peter was usually very lively and talkative in the lab, he always had some fun fact to share or an anecdote about something that happened in class, but that night he was gloomy and quiet, but he still answered to Tony’s small talk. When they arrived at the older man’s penthouse, Peter was a little nervous, looking around as if he was out of place, looking almost regretful. Tony decided that he hated seeing him like that.

“Hey, wanna see something cool?” He asked as soon as they walked into the living room. The young man turned to look at him curiously, a small smile on his face as he nodded. “Evening, Jarvis. Could you get the windows, please?” As he said that, Peter frowned, then jumped almost a foot in the air when the A.I. answered.

“Good evening, sir, I hope you had a good time at the party.” As he said that, an entire wall of the living room turned from blurred, dark glass to transparent glass, revealing an amazing view of the city skyline. “Good evening, Mr. Parker.”

“What – how – you have an AI here? How does he know who I am?” Peter half whispered, half shouted, apparently undecided if he should be concerned or amazed. Tony laughed and placed a hand on Peter’s lower back, guiding him towards the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“I don’t only have it, I made it. And he’s equipped with an advanced face recognition technology that I designed, in case anyone comes in here with ill intentions. I started working on Jarvis when I was at Hammer Industries, it was supposed to go to the military, but after I resigned, I decided to keep it to myself. Jarvis runs the house and helps me in the lab.” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets and observed as the young man leaned against the window, looking amazed and a little lost.

“So cool!” Peter’s eyes were round and excited, all the gloominess from earlier apparently forgotten. “Can I talk to him? Like, will it acknowledge my voice?”

“Of course, Mr. Parker, why wouldn’t I?”  

“Hi, Jarvis!” And just like that, Peter stroke up the silliest conversation with Jarvis, as Tony headed to the kitchen. He decided that since Peter wasn’t really allowed to drink, he’d make them some coffee, and later they could order something to eat. When he went back to the living room, the young man was still leaning against one of the windows as Jarvis tried to convince him that he had no intention of starting a rebellion to wipe out humanity.

“Don’t worry, Jarvis wouldn’t do that,” Tony smiled, placing two mugs on the coffee table and Peter shrugged.

“I wish he would, sometimes I think we failed as a species.” He turned around to face the engineer with a cheeky smile. Fuck, he was so beautiful. “Thank you for everything, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

“You would have figured something out, you’re resourceful. Maybe you would have built a car out of a cardboard box, two paper clips and four potatoes.” He leaned against the window beside Peter and the young man looked up at him with a grin.

“Or maybe I would have found someone to lend me a charger so I could call an Uber?” He bumped Tony’s shoulder with his own and the older man scoffed.

“Yeah, but that would’ve been boring, don’t you think?” He raised a brow with a grave face and the young man laughed.

“You’re right, this is much more fun.” His face was so open, so beautiful, all awkwardness from before completely gone. Tony leaned in to whisper close to his ear.

“It can get better.” He pulled back a little to look at the boy’s face. He looked surprised, eyes wide and lips parted, but he didn’t pull away, he didn’t take a single step back, so Tony took a chance. He placed one hand gently on his cheek, testing his reaction, and Peter’s breath hitched, his gaze dropped to Tony’s lips, but he stood still, breathing rapidly but quietly. That was all the answer he needed.

He buried his hand in those curls he’d been dreaming about for months, as his other arm snaked around his thin waist, pulling him close, no chance of escape. Not that he thought that Peter would try to escape if he could, anyway. Tony felt intoxicated when their lips touched, Peter’s mouth was as soft as it looked, his skin as smooth as he imagined. The younger man melted against him, bodies flush together as Tony’s tongue begged for entrance in his mouth.  

He pushed him against the window, once again testing the young man’s reaction to his advances, but Peter was so far gone, he barely seemed to notice they’d changed positions. Tony kissed him deeply, slowly, as his hands made their way around the boy’s hips, thumbs stroking his hipbones over the silk shirt, and he sighed. Tony licked into his mouth, swallowing his little gasps and whimpers, and he could tell that Peter had never been kissed like that before, if the way his legs gave out were any indication. He held him up, though, his body trapped between the older man’s and the cold window.

He felt Peter’s erection already poking his upper thigh and he smiled into the kiss, feeling his own cock start to swell against Peter’s lower stomach. He moaned quietly, pulling away from the kiss for a few seconds to check if the boy was doing okay, but Peter didn’t even open his eyes, he just rocked his hips slowly, rubbing his erection against Tony’s thigh. Feeling confident enough, the older man lowered his hands to his perfect ass, squeezing his cheeks tightly as he pulled him even closer to him. Just as he imagined, it was firm, yet supple, it filled his hands nicely, and Tony didn’t hesitate to lift him a little by the ass, aligning their cocks and pressing both erections together.

“Mr. Stark,” he whimpered, humping against Tony, trying to balance his weight on the tips of his toes as Tony held him up. The older man took advantage of the way he threw his head back, exposing his throat, to make his way down his skin, peppering his long, pale neck with kisses and bites. Peter moaned as he tried to undo Tony’s suit jacket, which he allowed, putting just a little distance between them. He went back to his mouth with another kiss, faster than before, more urgent, before pulling away just a few inches, panting against the kid’s mouth.

“C’mon, babe, let me take you to bed,” he whispered and Peter nodded quickly.

Tony took his hand and led him to his own room, and as soon as they were inside, he pushed Peter against the king sized bed and quickly started working on his shirt, every inch of silky, white skin it revealed made the older man harder. Peter smelt and looked expensive as fuck, his skin was smooth as a baby’s, not a single hair in sight, and it was soft and unmarked, peppered only with a few light brown freckles along the collarbones. His nipples were tiny and light pink, hard from excitement and begging to be bitten.

Tony wanted to eat him up – and out – he always looked good when they were in the lab, in his cute slacks, dress shoes and lab jacket, but that night he looked delicious, like an expensive meal, and Tony was a starving man. He got rid of the shirt, revealing his thin chest and surprisingly defined abs, and he worshiped the exposed skin, covered it with open mouthed, wet kisses and bites until it turned red from the abuse. He wanted to mark him up, leave bruises on him so that at least for a while, Peter could be his.

He took a perked up nipple in his mouth and sucked it mercilessly, as he pinched the other one between his fingers, and Peter gasped, hands flying to grab Tony’s shoulders. He didn’t waste too much time, though, and quickly started undoing his pants, pulling them down his legs. The act revealed even more soft, smooth skin and plump, soft thighs that the older man couldn’t help biting. Peter whined quietly when Tony splayed his open palms on his legs and squeezed, as he sucked bruises on the boy’s inner thighs. His face was so close to his cock, covered only in tight, black boxer briefs, so Tony rubbed his cheek against it and Peter cried out.  As soon as he lowered his boxers, Peter’s cock sprung free, and Tony was delighted. It was small and flushed pink, rock hard and already dripping pre-cum. The older man didn’t think twice as he put it all in his mouth, eliciting a scream from the young man.

“Oh, my God, Mr. Stark!” He bucked his hips wildly, his legs falling open, and, for the second time that evening, Tony thought that maybe nobody had ever done that to him. “Oh, God! Fuck!” He kept moaning desperately, as Tony sank his fingers in his ass cheeks, bobbing his head up and down, sucking and licking his shaft and paying extra attention to the head. Peter kept both of his hands beside his body, clenching at the sheets, not daring to touch Tony or demand anything. The second the older man’s fingers touched his balls, he lost it. “Mr. Stark, please, I – Oh, God, oh my God –“ He blushed furiously, Tony noticed when he raised his head and let go of his cock with a loud pop.

His whole face and chest were flushed pink, he held his upper body up, resting on his elbows as he panted, looking thoroughly debauched. His once gelled curls were wild and loose, covering his forehead, and Tony just wanted to ruin him even more. He smirked at the younger man, who seemed completely out of it, barely able to understand what was happening. Tony lifted his legs, pressing his bent knees to his chest and Peter got the idea and held his legs in place, exposing himself beautifully to him.

The older man’s mouth watered as he looked at his quivering, pink hole. It looked so fucking tight and so fucking ready for his cock at the same time, he could see Peter was mortified in that position, but he still held himself open, so eager for what was to come. Tony grabbed his ass cheeks and spread them, burying his face in his crack and licking a stripe up from his tailbone to his balls, only to hear the young man screaming desperately.

Tony was feeling really smug, he didn’t remember the last he made anyone scream like that. He was always a generous lover, he liked giving his partners pleasure, but Peter didn’t seem to be used to it if his reactions were anything to go by, so the older man took even more pleasure in making him feel so good.

“Mr. Stark, I’m gonna – I’m not gonna last, please!” Tony pretended not to hear him, as he kept licking over his rim before he started to try to breach him with his tongue, as Peter cried out, bucking his hips. The older man held him in place and kept trying to fuck his tongue into him, until he felt Peter’s fingers in his hair, pulling him up. “I wanna come with you inside me – please,” he whispered once Tony’s lips were over his mouth, his cock perfectly aligned with the boy’s hole.

He grunted and kissed him again, just as wildly and roughly as he did before. The young man quickly started undoing Tony’s shirt, and only then did he realize that he was still dressed as Peter laid on his bed completely naked. He groaned into the kiss, because fuck, that was hot, but he helped the boy take off his shirt and undershirt.

Peter curled one leg around his waist, kissing Tony back enthusiastically and a little less shyly now that the older was a little undressed as well. He ran his soft hands all over Tony’s broad back, then up his shoulders and into his thick hair, all the while moaning and bucking his hips, begging to be touched. Tony took advantage of the position they were in to slide his fingers in between Peter’s cheeks, feeling his tight entrance twitch, anticipating the touch. He didn’t do much more, though, he just kept kneading his ass, letting his fingertips just slightly brush against his quivering hole.

Peter grew impatient then, and instead of pushing his hips up, against Tony’s own cock, he started pushing then down, against his fingers. The older man chuckled, brushing his chin against the pale neck, already noticing it turning pink with beard burn.

“Mr. Stark, c’mon, please, I--” He mumbled incoherently, holding on for dear life to his shoulders, his breath short, swollen, wet lips parted, his lids heavy. A vision of paradise. “I need--”

Tony knew what he needed, but he wouldn’t give it to him just yet. Still, he let his middle finger wander towards his entrance, feeling his hole clenching, trying to pull it inside, ready to take whatever Tony was willing to give. He grabbed his thighs again, spreading them far apart, making Peter yelp in surprise. He kissed his hole gently one last time, then moved away, getting off the bed.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.” Tony smirked, undoing his pants, and he noticed Peter’s eyes intent on him. As soon as his cock sprung free, the young man whimpered, whispering “fuck” and biting his lips hard. “Like what you see?” Tony asked, cockily, he knew it was a nice view. He was nicely groomed and his cock was cut, long and thick, and at the moment it was rock hard like never before and dripping with pre-cum. He stepped out of his pants and headed towards the night stand before Peter could answer. He grabbed a bottle lube and made his way back to the bed, positioning himself between his legs once again.

He coated his fingers with plenty of lube and breached his entrance with one fingertip, only to hear a long, deep moan coming from the younger man, who clung to his shoulders for dear life. He fucked his finger in and out of him, slowly at first, but quicker as Peter’s hips started moving along with him, begging for more. Tony leaned down and kissed him, and felt one of Peter’s hands in his hair, as he curled both of his legs around the older man’s waist. Tony kept kissing him as he sunk another finger in his hole, eliciting a surprised moan from him, as he tried to adjust to the stretch.

They kept kissing and rocking against each other eagerly, as Tony fucked him open with his fingers, scissoring and curling them, until he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to be inside him. He drew back just enough to hold his cock, guiding it towards Peter’s entrance. Slowly and unrelentingly, Tony sank his cock inside him, blinded with pleasure as each inch sank further inside. Peter whined in pain but didn’t budge or asked him to stop, he took it like a good boy, holding still, legs spread wide, until Tony bottomed out. When he did, he wrapped his arms around his slight frame, lifting him a little from the bed, and Peter took a deep breath, holding his shoulders.

“That’s it, sweetie, you’re so good for me, I’m gonna make you feel so good.” Tony whispered nonsensically in his ear, kissing his cheeks and neck gently, waiting for him to adjust. They stayed like that for a few seconds, until Peter started rocking his hips slowly, and Tony soon caught on. He grabbed his hips and slammed once inside him, hearing a scream coming from the younger man. He drew back and slowly built up a pace, slamming against him like there was no tomorrow. He moaned loudly, a mixture of pleasure and pain, Tony could tell, but instead of asking him to slow down, he pushed back against him just as hard, biting his neck.

Tony may have lost his mind somewhere along the way, pure instinct took over as he fucked into him with abandon, he heard his screams and moans and they made him hit harder, harder, and he thought he heard the younger man screaming just that, as he sank his nails into his shoulders and down his back, until he grabbed Tony’s ass and pulled him closer, faster, harder –

“Oh – Oh, Mr. Stark – I –“ Peter rolled his eyes back and it took Tony the better part of a minute to realize that he was coming, and he hadn’t even touched his cock. Spurts of his warm, white come covered both of their chests and Tony could feel that some of it caught on his chin. The sight of Peter underneath him – debauched, utterly satisfied, ruined – was enough to bring Tony over the edge, the force of his orgasm was almost blinding, something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He let himself fall on top of Peter, barely aware of the fact that he was maybe a little too heavy for that, but the younger man didn’t seem to mind, if the soft, barely there caresses on his back were anything to go by.

They were silent for several minutes, bodies cooling down and falling asleep, but Tony’s mind was wide awake. What had he done? Peter was supposed to be off limits for a number of reasons, so many he couldn’t even focus on a single one. He felt the young man sigh softly under him, his hands drawing circles on his back peacefully.

“This was nice,” he whispered and it triggered something in Tony, because, fuck, it was perfect. It was perfect, but it was a lie, wasn’t it? Peter wasn’t really into him. He was just – he was just a fucking –

“I really hope this was a free trial, ‘cause I don’t think I can afford you, kid.” The minute the words left his mouth, he felt the younger man go rigid beneath him. He quickly pushed at Tony’s shoulders, trying to raise his upper body and the older man easily rolled off of him to the side, resting his head on his clasped hands on the pillow.

“What are you insinuating?” Peter asked with a frown, suddenly appearing very uncomfortable, gathering the sheets around him to cover his exposed skin.

“I’m not insinuating anything, I’m just saying I don’t think I have enough money to pay for this very expensive meal.” He wiggled his eyebrows, smirking, pretending he wasn’t as affected by what happened as he was. Peter turned bright red, his mouth falling open, gaping like a fish.

“What – I –“ he stammered, frozen for a few seconds before he jumped into action and out of bed, taking the sheets with him as he looked for his clothes around the room. “I can’t believe you just said that, you fucking asshole! Fuck you!” He yelled towards the bed and Tony was a little  surprised by his reaction.

“Chill, it was a joke.” He rolled his eyes, noticing that he young man was almost fully dressed by then, at least he had his pants and shirt on, his tie and jacket were draped over his arm as he looked for his shoes. When he turned back to Tony, his whole face was inhumanly red and soaked in tears, it made Tony’s heart clench. “Jesus, kid!”

“I’m not laughing, asshole!” He yelled again, marching towards the door without looking back. “You’re all the fucking same, bunch of assholes, what was I thinking? I’m so fucking stup– ” Tony couldn’t hear the rest of his rant because he slammed the door with so much force that the older man was pretty sure he felt the building shaking a little bit.

Well, fuck.

--*--

Two weeks later, when Tony stepped inside the lab, he had a whole plan figured out. After Peter left that night, he went through all five stages of admitting he had been an asshole – as was common for him, he usually went through those at least a few times a week.

So, first, he denied it.

“The kid is obviously overreacting, right? It was just a joke and, even if it wasn’t, well, I wouldn’t have been that far off from the truth.”

Then, he was angry.

“Fuck that kid, he had no right to react the way he did, who does he think he is, slamming the door like that, yelling at me, calling me names, all because of a stupid little joke? Fuck him.”

Then, he bargained.

“So, okay, maybe I was a little over the line, but I can fix it, right? It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Then he felt a little sad, because, fuck, thinking back to their time together, the kid had never been anything but nice to him, he didn’t deserve that and Tony always fucked up with people, what was wrong with him?

Finally, he fully accepted it. He was definitely, irrevocably and undoubtedly an asshole. They had a nice time together, the kid was the best lay he had in fucking years, and sure, maybe he was with Norman for money or whatever, but what they did, what they shared that night – it felt pretty fucking real and Tony blew it.  

So when he walked into the lab two weeks later, he had it all figured out. He would ask Peter to stay a little late, then, when everybody left, he would apologize to him sincerely and since he had a taste for expensive gifts, he even got him a gold bracelet, just as an “I’m sorry I was an asshole” gift, a peace offering.

The thing was, when he walked into the lab, Peter was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Mr. Parker?” He asked the closest lab tech and the young woman shrugged, uninterested.

“He quit a few weeks ago, I heard.” She mumbled, concentrated on the microscope in front of her, and Tony cursed under his breath, feeling even more guilty than before. Had the kid felt so offended that he decided to quit the team? That couldn’t be right, he was Norman’s boy, how would he justify that to him? He wouldn’t tell him about them, would he? Tony figured that if he had told Norman anything, he would have heard about it by then, but everything seemed normal and in order, other than Peter’s absence from the lab.

“He went back to being Mr. Osborn’s intern?” He asked just to clarify, maybe he could go talk to him after he was done in the lab for the day.

“No, he quit Oscorps.” She looked at him like he was asking dumb questions, like everyone should know that piece of information.

Tony did not expect that. His heart raced a little when he heard those words, for some reason. He thought he should be relieved, one less thing to worry about. With Peter gone, he wouldn’t need to worry about apologizing or Norman finding out about them. He didn’t need to worry about things getting weird in the lab or Peter trying to use it against him or something. But he wasn’t relieved. He was – what was he feeling? Whenever he thought about the possibility of not seeing Peter ever again, his heart clenched.

The engineer couldn’t understand what was going on inside him, he just needed to talk to Peter, fucking apologize, get him back on the team, make sure that they would still see each other every month, that they would still talk, and laugh together, and share a workbench so small their hips touched every now and again.  

Which was why Tony found himself waiting at the main entrance of Columbia's Morningside Heights campus on Wednesday evening, probably looking suspicious as hell as he swept the crowd, looking for a familiar face. It was a long shot, but he new Peter had classes every afternoon and he knew at what time he was done most days. He guessed the young man would take a train at the subway station on 116th Street, so there he was, looking and waiting.

After almost two hours and no luck, Tony was ready to give up and leave when he saw him walking out, arms full of text books, a heavy looking backpack hanging from one shoulder. He was wearing reading glasses, baggy, ripped jeans, and a graphic t-shirt underneath an oversized gray hoodie and Tony realized he had never seen him like that, he was always well dressed at work and he only ever saw him in other two occasions: his dinner with Norman and at the gala.

Tony thought he looked even more beautiful like that, stripped off of all the fancy things that made him look like an expensive doll. He looked at ease and comfortable and Tony felt a weird desire to hold him. Fucking hold him. Not rip off his clothes and fuck him – well, that too – but to take him into his arms, pull him close and breathe into his his wild curls.

“Hey, Peter,” Tony called out loud enough for him to hear and as soon as his eyes made contact with the older man’s, his face turned red and his eyes widened before he dropped his gaze to the ground, picking up the pace to walk away from Tony. “Hey, hold on, kid, c’mon, I’m talking to you.” The engineer quickly followed, grabbing him by the arm and making him turn around.

“What do you want, what are you doing here?” He asked impatiently, looking around as if afraid to make a scene, there were a lot of people walking in and out of campus at that time.

“You quit Oscorps,” the older man stated, dumbly, and Peter stared at him as if he wanted to say just that. He waited to see if Tony would say anything more and he really meant to, but nothing else came out of his stupid mouth.

“Yeah, and?” He prompted, holding his books close to his chest defensively, getting ready for a fight, but Tony just shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“And now I don’t have any engineers on my team,” he offered, as kind of a joke, he thought, but again, Peter wasn’t laughing.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He rolled his eyes and tried to walk away, but Tony held him back again. “What the hell, don’t touch me!”

“Ok, sorry, I’m sorry.” He let go of his arm and raised both of his hands in a peace offering. “I’m trying to apologize here, I’m not very good at this.”

“Clearly,” Peter snarked, and Tony nodded.

“Right. Ok. I deserve that. Look, let me just –“ He wracked his brain for something to say, he really should have thought it through. The thing was, he thought Peter would be a little more… Compliant. He didn’t expect him to still be that pissed off after almost two weeks. “Let me treat you to dinner, how about that? So we can clear the air?”

“No, thanks,” Peter answered quickly and started to walk away again, heading to the subway station. Since grabbing him and trying to stop him didn’t seem like a good idea, Tony started walking alongside him.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t be so stubborn, I’m just trying to apologize here,” he insisted, attracting Peter’s impatient gaze, as he still tried to balance all the books in his arms.

“You’re forgiven, is that what you wanna hear?” He snapped, and Tony was taken aback by the anger and hurt in his eyes. “There you go. You’re absolved! Goodbye now.” Again, he tried to leave the older man behind, but Tony didn’t let him.

“Hey, kid, don’t be so difficult, I just--”

“Tony!” Weirdly enough, after everything they’d done, that was the first time the younger man called him by his first name and even if the situation was less than ideal, it still sent a shiver down his spine. The boy stopped walking to look at him dead in the eye. “You called me a whore, now you’re asking me to dinner! What am I supposed to think here? I’m not for sale, I’m sorry if I misled you, go bother someone else.”

“Peter, I’m sincerely, honest to God, just trying to apologize here. I know I was an asshole and you didn’t deserve to be treated like that, nobody does, I’m sorry, I was way out of line. I just wanna take you to dinner because I think you’re a good kid, I know you enjoyed working with me and you looked up to me somehow, so I just wanna make it up to you, ok? I promise, nothing else. I just don’t want you to have the wrong impression of me. I’m a good guy, I’m just kind of an asshole sometimes.” Tony tried to convey all his honesty through his eyes, which made Peter deflate a little bit. The young man stared at him for a few seconds with a frown on his forehead, before he sighed, rolling his eyes.

“You’re very annoying,” he said, matter-of-factly, and the older man nodded.  

“I’m known to be quite annoying, yeah,” he admitted, putting on his best pleading face, puppy eyes and all. “Let me make it up to you,” he insisted, and Peter rolled his eyes and sighed in resignation.

“Fine, dinner. Not tonight, though, I have work.” Tony cheered on the inside – and a little on the outside – but the younger man kept a straight face.

“Whenever you’re free.” Peter thought for a second and it almost seemed like he was regretting it already.

“Tomorrow, then. You can pick me up here. And I’ll choose the restaurant.” He stuck up his nose, defiantly, and Tony just spread his arms in surrender.

“Fair enough.”

So Tony decided to be a perfect gentleman, he put on a nice suit, he bought some flowers and took the gold “I’m sorry I was a jerk” bracelet with him when he went to pick Peter up. He was sure he would pick the most expensive restaurant in New York as payback and maybe he would order the most expensive things on the menu and, yeah, Tony knew he was really stupid if he were to comply, but, apparently, he wasn’t as smart as he once thought. And apparently he wasn’t immune to cute boys who knew how to play their cards right. So, yeah, maybe he fell right into Peter’s web in the end and maybe he wasn’t too upset about it. He could afford to spend a few dollars on him, have a good meal, smart conversations, and then move on. Because that’s what it was, right? Just him needing closure, if nothing else.

Except, when he parked his car, Peter was standing on the sidewalk in plain blue jeans and a cheap gray sweater and he looked thoroughly amused by Tony’s outfit when he got out of the car to get the door for him. He offered him the flowers and the boy was even more amused, a small chuckle leaving his lips when he read the “I’m sorry I was a jerk” card. Tony decided not to give him the bracelet after all, didn’t seem like a good idea by the looks of it.

“Where do you think we’re going?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, stopping in front of Tony before he got in the car.

“I was thinking a three-star Michellin restaurant?” The older man frowned and the boy snorted, apparently very amused.

“Yeah, and how in the hell would I afford to eat there, Mr. Stark?” He cocked his head to the side with feigned curiosity and Tony frowned.

“Afford? What – no, I’m buying! This is an ‘I’m sorry’ dinner. Besides, I invited you, it’s only polite.” He argued, but the boy quickly shook his head.

“You’ve apologized enough.” He gestured to the flowers. “Besides, I’m sorry, but I’m a little skeptical about gratuitous generosity at the moment, so we’re just gonna get some cheap pizza if that’s ok with you.” He shrugged, pointing in the general direction of the pizza place he was probably planning to go.

“What? Peter, come on. At least –“

“I only agreed to come if you let me choose the restaurant, so it’s either this or I’m heading back home.” He threatened to turn away and Tony jumped to stop him.

“No, no, sorry, you’re right. It’s your pick.” He opened the door to the passenger seat before Peter could change his mind and leave.

They got inside the car and Tony followed the young man’s instructions to the pizza joint, it wasn’t far from campus and was mostly empty when they got there. It was really not the sort of place that Tony went to anymore, but he couldn’t deny that was exactly the kind of restaurant he could afford when he was 19 at MIT. He was still a little confused by Peter’s choice of restaurant, not really sure if it was all a game, a plot to get back at him, but he seemed honest when he said he wanted to pay for his half.

“Maybe lose the jacket? And the tie?” He suggested with an amused smile from beside him when they parked the car and Tony chuckled slightly, doing just that and undoing the first three buttons of his shirt, rolling up the sleeves as well. “Much better.”

When they got inside the restaurant, Peter seemed to know the waiters, they sat at a table in the far back and ordered their drinks. They didn’t even have wine. A pizza place that didn’t serve wine, what even was that madness.

“So, you come here a lot? Everyone seems to know you around here.” Tony tried to start some amicable conversation and, surprisingly, Peter was receptive.

“I used to work here, actually. Before Oscorps.” He smiled fondly as he looked around, like he had some good memories there.

“Oh, cool.” Again, he was surprised by the boy’s story, Tony always assumed that he had an easy life. “Did I – was it because of me? The reason you quit?” He asked with a wince and Peter raised a brow, amused.

“Don’t be so self-important, it had nothing to do with you,” he rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, so Tony thought maybe he wasn’t that mad anymore. He sure seemed a lot calmer than the last time they met. “You’re a jerk, but I’ve dealt with worse.” Tony snorted, he couldn’t even be mad, Peter was just stating facts. He was a little curious to know what led him to quit his job, if it wasn’t Tony, and suddenly remembered how upset he was when they left the party. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to ask, though, they were just getting back on good terms.

“So, what are you doing now that you quit Oscorps?” Tony cocked his head to the side and the boy shrugged, playing with his paper napkin.

“Back to waiting tables and making coffee.” He smiled, he didn’t seem upset by the turn of events, which was… unexpected? It was just so odd. Tony had this idea that Peter liked to live that expensive lifestyle he had with Osborn, wasn’t that the whole point of being with him? His confusion must have shown on his face, because Peter chuckled, furrowing his brow. “What?”

“Nothing, I just –” He shook his head and gave up in the middle of the sentence.

“What, you thought I’d find another rich dude or something?” He creased his brow, looking genuinely confused, not mad. “Wait, do you actually think I’m an escort?” He asked as an afterthought, and Tony could deny it, but he didn’t think he could make it believable anyway.

“Not exactly, but – something like that, yeah,” He admitted, scratching the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed for the first time in a long time, and braced himself for the explosion, but Peter just showed him a sad little smile.

“You thought I was with him for his money,” he stated and Tony winced, because when Peter said it out loud, when those words came out of his mouth, they sounded so wrong. Like they could never be true. “It’s okay, I guess he thought that, too, and so did everyone else. My coworkers, the press, even some of my friends,” he scoffed, folding his napkin in half just to have something to do with his hands. “I guess I’m just a stupid kid who watched way too many Disney princess movies growing up. I blame my aunt, honestly.” He tried to joke and Tony shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have judged you, it wasn’t my place. I just thought it was so odd for a guy like you to be with a guy like him.” Such a beautiful, brilliant, young man like you deserved so much better than him, was what Toy didn’t dare to say.

“I loved him,” he said and it shouldn’t have stung, it shouldn’t have made Tony’s stomach twist and turn, and his heart clench, but it did. It fucking did. “Or I thought I did. Turns out I got it all wrong. I thought we were going somewhere, but he wasn’t really serious about me, which became very clear when he decided not to take me to the gala, so.” He blushed slightly and dropped his eyes to the table, still folding the napkin until it was impossible to keep folding.

“Yeah, but you still came. Why?” Tony insisted, because he really wanted to figure him out, he needed to, because Peter wasn’t who he thought he was, he wasn’t that person Tony was so quick to judge and he needed to know who he was, after all. Because – he just needed to.

“I guess I – I just thought... He would regret it or something, you know. Once he saw me.” He gave a self-deprecatory laugh, rubbing a hand across his forehead as if trying to physically erase something from his mind. “Like… A stupid rom-com or something, you know. Like, the happy ending scene. Whatever. It’s stupid.” He ran a hand through his hair, blushing even harder. “Again, I blame my aunt, she was the one who made me watch all these stupid movies.”

Tony wanted to say it wasn’t his fault that everybody else was fucked up and couldn’t see what an amazing person he was, but the waiter chose that moment to interrupt them with their food, which was good, because Peter perked up and actually looked excited, rubbing his hands together and looking at Tony expectantly.

“Try it, tell me if it’s not the best pizza you’ve ever had in your life.” Tony smiled at his excitement and grabbed a piece of the cheap pizza. As expected, it tasted like garbage, but he wouldn’t tell Peter that, obviously.

“Sorry, kid, it’s not. But I’m forty-five and I’ve been to Italy, so don’t look so bummed.” Peter deflated slightly, grabbing a piece of his own and taking a huge bite out of it, like it was the best meal ever.  

“Fine then, the best pizza in New York?” He compromised and Tony was a hundred percent sure it was most definitely not the best pizza in New York, but –

“I’ll give you that.” He conceded and Peter beamed.

“I’ll take it.”

They fell into an easy conversation about engineering and about Peter’s expectations for the future, which ended up turning into a conversation about what Tony did after college. The older man told him about all the steps he took to get where he was, working for other companies, having his ideas stolen, not getting credit for his work, quitting multiple jobs, almost going bankrupt trying to get Stark Industries off the ground and then finally being in a comfortable place in his professional life at 45 – better late than never.

“I think it’s amazing how you managed to turn your life around, you know. It’s really inspiring.” Peter seemed truly moved by Tony’s story, and the older man knew it was quite impressive, but he just shrugged it off.

“Yeah, boo-hoo, but now that you know my sob story, you have to tell me yours.” He took another bite of the terrible pizza and decided that sometime after the third slice, it became almost edible. Key-word: almost.

“Well, there’s not much to say and it’s definitely not as interesting or as successful as yours, but let’s see. My parents died when I was really young, I think I was around four – I’m ashamed to say I don’t really remember them. I still have their pictures, but I just – you know.” Peter shrugged and, yeah, Tony knew. After his mom died, he couldn’t look at pictures of her for years; at the same time that he wanted to remember her, he kind of wanted to forget. “I was raised by my aunt May and uncle Ben, but he was killed in a mugging when I was ten. Fuck, my life story is such a downer, are you sure you wanna hear it?” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, and Tony smiled softly.

“As long as you wanna tell it, kid.” Peter took a deep breath, as if considering if he actually wanted to tell that story, but finally seemed to decide to go on.

“So, my aunt May was a nurse, she struggled to make ends meet, but she was just – amazing, you know? She was like a mother to me, she never left me wanting for anything, specially when it came to my education, which was how I was able to get into college so early. Anyway, she passed away almost two years ago from a stomach cancer. So… It’s just me now. I’m the last Parker standing.” He smiled sadly, dropping his gaze to stare at the slice of uneaten pizza in his plate.

“Fuck, that’s rough, kid. But hey, if it’s any consolation, I’m also the last Stark standing. Maybe we should start a club or something,” he joked to try to lighten up the mood and the young man giggled, looking back at him with a smile.

“Like, the Parker-Stark Lonely Orphans Club?” He asked cheekily and Tony laughed. “Anyway, a year ago I got into Oscorps’s internship program, which was a dream come true, but then I screwed it up by sleeping with the boss, because I’m an idiot. The end.” He snorted and, again, Tony was a little surprised to learn that Peter got the internship before he met Norman, but at that point, it wasn’t much of a shock, he should have seen it coming.

“So, can I ask what happened? Between you and Norman? What made you quit?” Tony asked carefully. As the night went on, he felt like he and Peter were getting more comfortable with each other, more comfortable than they could ever be all those months before, when Tony made such an effort to despise him.

“Ugh, it’s… Well, it’s embarrassing.” It was barely a whisper. Peter’s cheeks were bright red and he wouldn’t meet Tony gaze.

“It’s okay, you don't have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He reassured him, feeling confident enough to place a hand on top of his on the table. Peter stared at them for a few seconds, before looking up at him.

“It’s… Something he did at the party. He kept pushing me to this guy, you know. Some business partner or whatever. And I didn’t quite understand what he was trying to accomplish, but then I went to the bathroom and this guy followed me there and he – he tried – to kiss me. And to touch me.” He blushed, gaze fixed on the table between them once again. Tony tightened his grip on his hand. “When I pushed him away he said something about Norman not knowing how to teach his whores good manners. When I tried to talk to Norman – he said I owed him.” He frowned, lifting his eyes to look at him. “For all the expensive gifts, and nice restaurants, and everything he did for me. He said it was the least I could do.” He scoffed, but his cheeks were pink, like maybe some part of him believed that – believed that while he thought he was dating someone he loved, he was actually whoring himself out to him.

“That’s why you were so upset at the party,” he whispered, realizing what a massive jerk he’d been after that. The kid must have been feeling like shit that day. Used and expendable and lost. And then Tony treated him like a fucking cheap hooker.  “Peter… I’m so sorry for that night, I didn’t –“

“It’s okay, I’m fine now. Don’t get me wrong, it was a total dick move, but I already knew you were kind of a dick, so no alarms, no surprises.” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood, but nothing he could say could ever absolve Tony of what he’d done, of the harm he’d caused him that night. Fuck, if he was Peter, he would never have talked to him again, let alone agreed to dinner. His behavior the previous night suddenly made perfect sense. “I quit the next day, put his stupid gifts in a box and sent it to the tower, he can choke on them for all that I care.” He shrugged, trying to appear non-nonchalant, but Tony knew the whole thing must still fucking hurt, it had only been two weeks.

“I sincerely hope he does,” Tony offered and Peter laughed out loud, throwing his head back in delight.

When they walked to the car at the end of the night, Tony could feel that something had changed between them. He felt like all that time he knew Peter he had been missing a huge chunk of information, which made all the difference in the world. He could see Peter now, the real him. The ride to his place was taken in comfortable silence and when Tony parked his car, neither of them moved. The older man turned towards the younger one and licked his lips. He knew the answer to the question he was gonna ask, he knew he deserved it, but still –  

“Can I get you number?” It wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was to apologize, show the kid a good time as a way of making it up to him for the terrible things he said and move on. Go back to work, go back to his life, but now – now he was stuck. Looking at Peter and seeing a whole new person. Someone he wanted to get to know more, but knew he didn’t deserve.

“Oh, I don’t know, do you think you can afford it?” Peter teased, and Tony actually blushed, embarrassed to remember how much of a dick he’d been.

“Ugh, I said I was sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand across his face, only to hear Peter’s delighted chuckle.

“I’m just kidding, don’t worry. But I don’t think It’s a good idea, Tony.” He bit his lower lip and Tony nodded to himself, because, yeah, he knew it wasn’t. It shouldn’t be. Because Peter deserved so much better than him. “But this was nice. Thank you for caring enough to apologize.”

“It was the least I could do.” He gave him a small smile and was taken by surprised when the young man unceremoniously leaned in and kissed him. Tony didn’t waste any time burying his hand in his hair, pulling him impossibly close as their lips brushed softly and tongues met in a sweet embrace. The young man pulled away after just a few seconds, though, and Tony didn’t even have the courage to open his eyes and acknowledge it was over. “Are you sure this isn’t a good idea? Because it sure tastes like a great fucking idea. I would know, I have great ideas all the time, ask anyone.” Tony whispered and Peter laughed, his face was still so close the older man could feel his breath on his lips.

“Goodbye, Tony. Good luck with your company,” he smiled, as he opened to door to get out of the car.

“I’ll miss you on my team.” Which was to say, I’ll miss you. Plain and simple.

“I’m sure you’ll find a replacement in no time.” I won’t, I don’t want to. I want you. “Gotta go now, I have work in the morning. Bye!” He got out and closed the door behind him, waving one last time before he walked away.

“Goodbye, Peter,” he whispered to the empty car, hands clutching the steering-wheel as he watched the boy disappear into the building.

--*--

Working at Oscorps was not the same without Peter. First, because he was actually a very good intern who helped a lot with every single task Tony assigned him. Second, because even though he hadn’t noticed it before, he always looked forward to talking to him. To learning those tiny little pieces of information the boy let escape through his lips once in a while, only to blush profusely and apologize seconds later.

Still, he kept going. Norman never bothered him, which was nice, and as the remaining months passed, Tony’s name became more and more recognizable, he closed so many deals over the course of that year, he was able to more than double his team and the office and lab they used to work got way too small for them. He started looking for some other place to go and the more he thought about it, more sense it made to move SI headquarters to California. Most of his partners were there and he would also be closer to his suppliers and many other business opportunities.

So after talking to Pepper, Nat, Rhodey, Happy and Bruce – “the original six”, as they liked to call themselves, including Tony –, he decided to move right after his contract with Oscorps was done in December. Those last few months were crazy and got crazier when B.A.R.F. was finally announced to the public. Both the product and the technology behind it sent Stark Industries to a whole other level, their stocks skyrocketed and Tony literately became the richest man in New York overnight, even richer than Norman – and that was saying something.

Which was why, when December rolled around and Osborn invited him to dinner to discuss the possibility of renewing the contract and he showed up with some supermodel hanging off his arm, he couldn’t help but think of the first time he was in that same situation. He remembered how nervous he was before the dinner, how excited he felt when they closed the deal and how gorgeous Peter looked that night. But he remembered, specially, what Osborn did to the younger man months after that. How he’d treated him, what he’d said to him.

“So, what do you say, Stark? Wanna be partners for five more years?” Osborn’s smile was kind of creepy, he hadn’t noticed it before. He offered him a hand and Tony stared at it for what felt like hours, although it was probably only a few seconds. It was great fucking deal, way better than the one he had before, but –

“You know what, Norman?” He smiled to himself and took a deep breath, wishing he was wearing his smart glasses so he could record his reaction. “Fuck you.” He beamed, standing up from his chair, admiring the expression of shock and horror on the older man’s face. He buttoned his suit jacket and, still smiling like a madman, left the restaurant like he owned the place – which he could, if he wanted.

On his last night in New York, he decided to look for Peter. He didn’t want to pressure him or anything, but they hadn’t seen each other in almost six months, so maybe something might have changed for him. Tony still couldn’t get him out of his head, each day that passed he wished he’d done things differently, so fucking differently.

He wished he’d been nicer, from day one. He wished he had lived up to his expectations, his hero worship. He wished he could have been a decent human being, a shoulder to cry on that night he was so vulnerable and broken. He wished he could have wooed him and gotten him to fall in love with him, the way he’d fallen for him.

He wanted a second chance, he really did, but when he knocked on the door of the apartment the boy used to live, the place where Tony had said goodbye to him all those months ago, some stoned college kid answered the door. When he asked about Peter, the boy just shrugged.

“He moved away a while ago, dude. Got a job somewhere or something.”

So that was it. Tony didn’t have his number and Peter wasn’t on social media – at least Jarvis couldn’t find him, and he sure as hell looked. So he gathered the last of his stuff and left New York for good, mind wandering to those few moments he’d spent with Peter, thinking how different things could have been if he hadn’t been so quick to judge.

No point crying over spilled milk.

Stark Industries flourished in L.A. All of Tony’s crazy, genius ideas were funded, so he finally finished his arc reactor project – something he’d started as a teen, but didn’t have the resources to continue – and started a line of electronics – computers, cellphones, tablets, all the good stuff. After the first couple of months, he bought a mansion in Malibu, just because he could, and finally felt like his life was heading in the right direction.

Still, it felt like there was a Peter-shaped whole in it, which was insane, they’d only known each other for a little over five months, it made no sense how much he missed him, they hadn’t seen each other in almost a year, and still there were nights he could fucking smell Peter’s scent on his sheets – sheets he’d never even laid on. Could feel his soft skin under his fingertips as he hugged his pillow close to his chest, the way he wished he’d held him that night when he stormed off, humiliated and hurt. Those nights he couldn’t sleep, could only stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out time travel, just so he could go back and fix things.

Once he was settled in California, he was invited to give lectures in universities all over the country. MIT was first, then NYU, Stanford, Yale, UCLA and, finally, Caltech in late November. His lectures were usually about the arc reactor, clean energy was in fashion, everybody was talking about it, and the fact that he figured out cold nuclear fusion was still a very hot topic.  

It was still early in the evening when he finished his lecture at Caltech, a few students stayed behind to ask him questions or just talk for a bit, Tony had become sort of a celebrity for nerds, and he didn’t mind staying a little late talking to those starry-eyed kids, so it was already dark out when he was done. When he thought he was alone, he started gathering his things, thinking of somewhere he could eat in Pasadena before he headed back to Malibu, when he heard it. That sweet, unmistakable voice.

“That was a hell of a lecture.” Tony turned around slowly, almost afraid to be wrong, but there was no way he’d be. Peter was there, staring back at him, standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest and a slight blush on his cheeks. “Hey. Long time, no see.”

“You ran away from me, kid.” He breathed out, letting his hands fall to his sides, even though they itched to touch, his legs were shaking with desire to run to the younger man, but he stood still, afraid that if he moved, the spell would be broken and he would realize that Peter was just an illusion.

“That’s a big ego you got there if you think I’d make such a dramatic life change just for you, old man.” He stepped into the room slowly, until he was standing right in front of Tony, close enough to touch, but neither of them did. “I’m getting my Masters here. I heard you were coming for a lecture.”

“So you came by to say hi?” Tony cocked his head to the side and Peter chuckled, nodding.

“Yes. Hi.” He perched himself on the desk Tony was using during his lecture and it was the older man’s turn to move to stand in front of him.

“Hi.” He smiled, stepping closer, paying attention to see if the young man was in any way uncomfortable by his actions, but he didn’t even flinch.

“So, I heard you ditched Norman.” He crossed his arms over his chest again, a small smile on his lips.

“I believe my exact words were ‘fuck you’, actually.” That made Peter laugh, throwing his head back and exposing his long throat. “I missed you kid.”

“Couldn’t find an intern to make you coffee and fawn over you while you were at Oscorps?” He jabbed a finger in his chest and Tony caught it in his hand.

“Couldn’t find you. Anywhere. And I looked.” He confessed, not letting go of his hand, not looking away from his eyes. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you and all the things I didn’t say.”

“Such as?” Peter asked coyly, biting his lower lip as he looked at Tony from under his eyelashes.

“I’ll miss you. Don’t go. Give me a chance. I’ll make this work. I’m in love with you. Things like that, you know.” He didn’t care that he was putting his heart on the line, he couldn’t choke on those words anymore, and if that was the last chance he ever got to say them, at least he could sleep peacefully at night. Peter blushed deeply, lips parted in shock, but then his face stretched in a slow, lazy smile, eyes focused on Tony’s.

“Can I buy you coffee?” He asked quietly, blinking slowly, and the older man shrugged, pretending to consider it.

“Depends. Can I buy you dinner? And don’t you dare ask if I can afford it.” He closed the distance between them as Peter laughed out loud, head thrown back in delight.

“I was just gonna say yes,” he promised, as he placed his hands on Tony’s shoulders, allowing him to come stand in between his legs. “Which is something I regretted not saying.” He confessed. “So, coffee first?”

“Yeah, coffee first.” Tony leaned down to kiss his lips, and they tasted so familiar, so right, and he knew it was crazy, because they shouldn’t, they were together for such a short time and Tony wasn’t a fucking teenager, he was a grown man, and he didn’t know how in the fuck he fell in love so hard and so fast, but he did. “It’s so good to see you.” He stole yet another kiss from him and felt the younger man’s lips stretching in a smile under his. Suddenly, he was reminded of a conversation they’d had over a year earlier. “So, do you think this is the happy ending scene in our movie or what?” He asked a beaming Peter, who pretended to examine his face carefully, before answering with a grin.

“I guess we’ll see.”

[snarktheater]

Hey, d'you have any French book recs? I'm trying to work on my French, and rn I have downloaded one of my favourite book series' French translations, but I figured maybe books already written in French might work better? Also have you read the Ranger's Apprentice series? 1/2

RA's def flawed - the books' narration does like to point bright arrows at the protagonists' intelligence, and the last few books def have the tone of 'old white man trying to write feminism', although at least he's trying? - and it's aimed more to the younger side of YA, but it is still a very fun series, and I can ignore the flaws fairly easily, at least partly due to nostalgia? This rather long lol but I'm wordy.

I'll start with the second question: no, although every time the series is brought up I have to check the French title and go "oh, right, I've seen these books in stores". But I've never purchased or read them. It sounds like something I probably would have enjoyed as a teen but I just missed the mark, and these days I'm trying to drown myself in queer books, so that probably isn't happening.

As for your first question, geez, I haven’t read a French book in years, so this is gonna skew middle grade/YA, though that may not be so bad if the point is to learn the language. I will also say that as a result, these may read a little outdated.

I'll put it under a cut, even if Tumblr has become really bad with correctly displaying read mores. Sorry, mobile crowd.

It's also likely that old readers of the blog will have seen me talk about most of these. I don't feel like going through old posts.

One last thing: while I was curating this list I took the time to make a Goodreads shelf to keep track of those.

The Ewilan books by Pierre Bottero

(It's a testament to how long ago I read these books that these are not the covers of the edition I own, and I can't even find those on Google. I'm settling for a more recent cover anyway since it'll make it easier to find them, presumably)

There are at least three trilogies (that I know of) set in the same world.

The first trilogy is essentially an isekai (so, French girl lands in parallel fantasy world by accident) with elements of chosen one trope, though I find the execution makes it worth the while anyway.

The second trilogy is a direct sequel, so same protagonist but new threat, and the world gets expanded.

The third one is centered around a supporting characters from the previous books, and the first couple of books in it are more her backstory than a continuation, though the third one concludes both that trilogy and advances the story of the other books as well.

Notably these books have a really fun magic system where the characters "draw" things into existence. It's just stuck with me for some reason.

A bunch of stuff by Erik L'Homme

I have read a lot of this man's books, starting with Le Livre des Etoiles.

They also skew towards the young end of YA, arguably middle grade, I never bothered to figure out where to draw the line. They're coincidentally also using the premise of a parallel world to our own (and yes, connected to France again, the French are just as susceptible of writing about their homeland), but interestingly are set from the point of view of characters native to the parallel world.

It also has a very unique magic system, this one based on a mix of a runic alphabet and sort-of poetry. I'll also say specifically for these books that the characters stuck with me way more than others on this list, which is worth mentioning.

This trilogy is my favorite by Erik L'Homme, but I'll also mention Les Maîtres des brisants, which is a fantasy space opera with a pirate steampunk(?) vibe. I think it's steampunk. I could be mistaken. But it's in that vein. It's also middle grade, in my opinion not as good, but it could just be that it came out when I was older.

Another one is Phaenomen, which was a deliberate attempt at skewing older (though still YA). This one is set in our (then-)modern world and centers a group of teens who happen to have supernatural powers. I guess the best way to describe it is a superhero thriller? If you take "superhero" in the sense of "people with individualized powers", since they don't really do a lot of heroing.

...I really need to brush up on genre terminology, don't I.

The Ji series by Pierre Grimbert

This one is actually adult fantasy, though it definitely falls under "probably outdated". It is very straight, for starters, and I'd have to give it another read to give a more critical reading of how it handles race (it attempts to do it, and is well meaning, but I'm not sure it survives the test of time & scrutiny, basically).

If I haven't lost you already, the premise is this: a few generations ago, a weird man named Nol gathered emissaries from each nation of the world and took them to a trip to the titular Ji island. Nobody knows what went down here, but now in the present day, someone is trying to kill off all descendants from those emissaries, who are as a result forced to team up and figure out what's going on.

I'm not going to spoil past that, though I will say it has (surprise) a really unique magic system! I guess you can start to piece together what my younger self was interested in. Which, admittedly, I still am.

Once again, this one also has a strong cast of characters, helped by rich world building and the premise forcing the characters to come from many different cultures (though, again, I can't vouch for the handling of race because it's been too long).

The first series is complete by itself, though it has two sequel series as well, each focusing on the next generation in these families. Because yes, of course they all pair up and have kids. Like I said: very straight.

A whole lot of books by Jean-Louis Fetjaine

OFetjaine is a historian, and I guess he's really interested in Arthurian mythos especially, because he loves it so much he's written two separate high fantasy retellings of them! I'm not criticizing, mind you, we all need a hobby.

The former, the Elves trilogy (pictures above) is very traditional high fantasy. Elves, dwarves, orcs, a world which is definitely fictionalized with a pan-Celtic vibe to it. The holy grail and excalibur are around, but they're relics possessed by the elves and dwarves with very different powers than usual. Et cetera.

Fetjaine also really loves his elves (as the titles might imply), and while they're not exactly Tolkien elves, there's a similar vibe to them. If you like Tolkien and his elf boner, you'll probably like this too. And conversely, if that turns you off, these books probably also won't work for you.

This series also has a prequel trilogy, centered around the backstory of one of the main characters. I...honestly don't remember too much about it, but I liked it, so, there you go, I guess.

I said Fetjaine did it twice. The other series is the Merlin duology, which, as the title implies, is a retelling of Merlin's story. Note that Merlin is also in the other trilogy, but it's a different Merlin; like I said, completely different continuities and stories.

This one is historical fantasy, so it's set in actual Great Britain, and Fetjaine attempts to connect Arthur to a "real" historical figure...but, you know, Merlin is also half-elf and elves totally exist in Brocéliande, so, you know. History.

Okay, that's probably enough fantasy, let me give some classics too.

L'Arbre des possibles et autres histoires - Bernard Werber

Bernard Werber is a pretty seminal author of French sci-fi and I should probably be embarrassed that the only book of his that I read was for school, but, it is a really good one, so I'll include it anyway.

It's a novella collection, and when I say "sci-fi" I want to make it clear that it's very old school science fiction. It's more Frankenstein or Black Mirror than Star Trek, what we in French call the anticipation genre of science fiction: you take one piece of technology or cultural norm and project it into the future.

It has a pretty wide range of topics and tones, so it's bound to have some better than others. My personal faves were Du pain et des jeux, where football (non-American) has evolved into basically a wargame, and Tel maître, tel lion, where any animal is considered acceptable as a pet, no matter how absurd it is to keep as a pet. They're both on a comedic end, but there's more heartfelt stuff too.

L'Ecume des Jours - Boris Vian

(no cover because I can't find the one I have, and the ones I find are ugly)

This book is surrealist. Like, literally a part of the surrealist movement. It features things such as a lilypad growing inside a woman's lungs (and, as you well know, lilypads double in size every day, wink wink), the protagonist's apartment becoming larger and smaller to go with his mood and current financial situation, and more that I can't even recall at the moment because remembering this book is like trying to remember having an aneurysm.

It is also really, really fun and touching. Oh, and it has a pretty solid movie adaptation, starring Audrey Tautou, who I think an international audience would probably recognize from Amelie or the Da Vinci Code movie.

I don't really know what else to say. It's a really cool read!

Le Roi se meurt - Eugène Ionesco

Ionesco is somewhat famous worldwide so I wasn't even sure to include him here. He's a playwright who wrote in the "Theater of the Absurd" movement, and this play is part of that.

The premise of this play is that the King (of an unnamed land) is dying, and the land is dying with him. I don't really know what else to say. It's theater of the absurd. It kind of has to be experienced (the published version works fine, btw, no need to track down an actual performance, in my humble opinion).

The Plague - Albert Camus

You've probably heard of this one, and if you haven't, let me tell you about a guy called Carlos Maza

I'm honestly more including this book out of a sense of duty. The other three are books I genuinely liked and happen to be classics. This book was an awful read. But, um. It's kind of relevant now in a way it wasn't (or didn't feel, anyway) back in 2008 or 2009, when I read it. And I don't just mean because of our own plague, since Camus's plague is pretty famously an allegory for fascism, which my teenage self sneered at, and my adult self really regrets every feeling that way.

Okay, finally, some more lighthearted stuff, we gotta talk about the Belgian and French art of bande dessinée. How is it different from comic books or manga? Functionally, it isn't. It really comes down more to what gets published in the Belgian-French industry compared to the American comics industry, which is dominated by superheroes, or the Japanese manga industry, which, while I'm less familiar with it, I know has some big genre trends as well that are completely separate.

The Lanfeust series - Arleston and Tarquin

This is a YA mega-series, and I can't recommend all of it because I've lost track of the franchise's growth. Also note that I say "YA", but in this case it means something very different from an American understanding of YA. These books are pretty full of sex.

No, when I say YA I mean it has that level of maturity, for better or worse. The original series (Lanfeust de Troy) is high fantasy in a world where everyone has an individual magical ability but two characters find out they're gifted with an absolute power to make anything happen, and while it gets dark at times, it's still very lighthearted throughout, and the humor is...well, I think it's best described as teen boy humor. And it has a tendency to objectify its female characters, as you'll quickly parse out from the one cover I used here or if you browse more covers.

But still, it holds a special place in my heart, I guess. And on my shelves.

The sequel series, Lanfeust des Etoiles, turns it into a space opera, and goes a little overboard with the pop culture reference at times, though overall still maintains that balance of serious/at times dark story and lighthearted comedy.

After that the franchise is utter chaos to me, and I've lost track. I know there was another sequel series, which I dropped partway through, and a spinoff that retold part of the original series from the PoV of the main love interest (in the period of time she spent away from the main group). There was a comedy spin-off about the troll species unique to this world, a prequel series, probably more I don't even know exist.

Les Démons d'Alexia

Something I can probably be a little less ashamed of including here.

Some backstory here. The Editions Dupuis are a giant of the Belgian bande dessinée industry, and for many, many years I was subscribed to their weekly magazine. That magazine was (mostly) made up of excerpts from the various books that the éditions were publishing at the time; those that were made of comic strips would usually get a couple pages of individual scripts, while the ongoing narratives got cut into episodes that were a few pages long (out of a typical 48 page count for a single BD album). Among those were this series.

For the first few volumes, I wasn't super into this series, probably because I was a little too young and smack dab in the middle of my "trying to be one of the boys" phase. But around book 3 I got really invested, to the point where I own the second half of the series because I had canceled by subscription by then but still wanted to know more.

Alexia is an exorcist with unusual talents, but little control, who's introduced to a group that specializes in researching paranormal phenomena, solving cases that involve the paranormal, that kinda stuff.

As a result of the premise, the series has a pretty slow start since it has to build up mystery around the source of Alexia's powers, but once it gets going and we get to what is essentially the series' main conflict, it gets really interesting.

Plus, witches. I'm a simple gay who likes strong protagonists and witches.

Murena

There was a point where my mtyhology nerdery led me to look for more stuff about the historical cultures that created them, and so I'd be super into stuff set in ancient Rome (I'd say "or Greece or Egypt" but let's face it, it was almost always Rome).

Murena is a series set just before the start of Emperor Nero's rule. You know, the one who was emperor when Rome burned, and according to urban legend either caused the fire or played the fiddle while it did (note: "fiddle" is a very English saying, it's usually the lyre in other languages). He probably didn't, it probably was propaganda, but he was a) a Roman Emperor, none of whom were particularly stellar guys and b) mean to Christians, who eventually got to rewrite history. So he's got a bad rep.

The series goes for a very historical take on events, albeit fictionalized (the protagonist and main PoV, the titular Lucius Murena, is himself fictional) and attempts to humanize the people involved in those events. Each book also includes some of the sources used to justify how events and characters are depicted, which is a nice touch.

It's also divided in subseries called "cycles" (books 1-4, 5-8 and the ongoing one starts at 9). I stopped after 9, though I think it's mostly a case of not going to bookstores often anymore. Plus it took four years between 9 and 10, and again between 10 and 11. But the first eight books made for a pretty solid story that honestly felt somewhat concluded as is, so it's a good place to start.

[catgrump]

"Have you ever thought about us...as an item" (I already forgot the whole prompt sorry 🤣). Could I get this for Sonia and Gundham? 👀 maybe a scenario where Gundham takes the first step/opens the subject first?

I’m so sorry this took so long! I’m writing this after publishing some Sondham so they’re on the brain and I can finally get to it!

This is another Non-Despair AU, surprise surprise

🌻🌻🌻

Gundham held the shop door open for Sonia, bowing his head as she smiled at him and stepped inside with the jingle of the bell in the doorframe.

They had been walking the city streets together for some time now, following directions on Sonia’s cellphone.

She wanted more crystals for her collection, and thought it would be nice to visit a shop in person, instead of buying them online.

As Gundham crossed the threshold and let the door close behind him, he could see why Sonia’s eyes lit up.

The shop was cluttered with full merchandise displays. The shelves were stocked floor to ceiling and items were packed tightly inside glass display cases. Crystals, candles, incense, spell books, tarot cards, and various other trinkets and baubles were everywhere.

Sonia was like a kid in a candy shop. She didn’t know where to begin.

“Gundham, take a look at this!” She grabbed his hand and led him toward one of the glass display cases, stocked full of crystals in various shapes: spheres, pyramids, skulls, and even a few hearts. They squatted down toward the floor to get a closer look.

Even though he had begun to trust Sonia long ago, he was still surprised by her touch. It sends shivers down his spine.

She began explaining the purposes of certain crystals in the case and admiring them, and Gundham attempted to pay attention. He wishes to be knowledgeable about Sonia’s interests, but seeing her speak with such excitement and enthusiasm made him start to daydream.

They had become such good friends. Gundham was not used to having anyone he could call a friend, but Sonia helped him connect with his other classmates. However, they still choose to spend copious amounts of time together— studying, learning about each other’s interests, having meals, even just sitting in the same room together, quietly enjoying the other’s company.

Now that Gundham has a group of friends, he’s realized he sees Sonia differently. His heart races when she looks him in the eye. He starts to sweat when she hugs him goodbye. He looks at her and sees a beautiful, kind, extraordinary person. But he doesn’t know how to tell her that. He worries what she would say in response.

He was pulled out of his trance when he saw Sonia stand up from the floor and ask the shopkeeper to remove something from the case for her.

She held a sphere the size of a tennis ball in her hands that was dark blue with streaks of black, like ocean waters at night. “So, which stone is this?” Gundham asked

“This is called sodalite!” She explained as she gingerly held the rock with a dazzling smile, “It has lots of different purposes, like self-acceptance and self-esteem improvements, and calming panic attacks.”

“Interesting,” Gundham was genuinely curious about the magic of different gems and crystals that Sonia practiced, “Can it do anything else?”

“Well,” Sonia continued, and she brought her gaze down to the floor, “I have also read it is good for knowing the right thing to say at the right time to support your romantic partner.”

Gundham felt his face flush. Why would she be purchasing stones with such abilities? Could it be...? He shook his head as Sonia made her way to a different area of the shop, letting the thought leave his mind. There was no way.

He followed her to shelves containing baskets of smaller crystals with more natural shapes. There were small brown bags available to carry shoppers’ selections with them. Sonia turned around to Gundham and held out the sodalite sphere, asking “Do you mind holding this for a few moments?”

He took it from her and felt their fingers touch, sending electricity to his heart. “I do not mind at all.”

He looked down at the stone, and compulsively brushed a hand across its smooth surface. Perhaps I should attempt to summon its abilities, he thought.

He stroked the stone gently as he watched Sonia debate which additional stones she wanted. He smirked as he watched her peer over the high shelves on her tiptoes. Even though he was just a bit taller than her, he bet he could at least reach the higher shelves easier. He placed the sodalite in one of his jacket pockets, made his way next to her and tapped her on the shoulder. “Need some assistance?”

Sonia giggled and Gundham’s heart melted. “Yes, please!”

Sonia guided him through selecting different stones.

“Moonstone and rose quartz. Do you see them?”

The baskets were all labeled, making the selection easy. He grabbed a white stone that reflected rainbow colors in the light and a soft pink stone, offering them to her for her approval.

“Thank you, Gundham!”

Satisfied, Sonia made her way to the cash register, with Gundham following close behind.

Sonia placed her paper bag on the counter, and Gundham retrieved the sodalite sphere from his pocket.  As Sonia took out her wallet, he placed a hand on her wrist and took out his own.  “Allow me.”

“Gundham,” was her face turning red? “I can handle it--”

“I insist.”

He paid for Sonia’s crystals for her, and he opened the door for her once again, and they continued walking side-by-side through the city sidewalks.

“Gundham, you did not need to pay for me--”

“It is a gift.  You have provided such light in my life, it is the bare minimum I can do to return the favor.”

Sonia stopped walking.  “Gundham... do you mean that?”

He stopped and turned around to face her.  He suddenly felt a sense of boldness.  A bravery.  “I do.  You are important to me.”

They stood a few feet from each other as random citizens walked past, but all they could focus on was each other.  “You are important to me, too,” she said back to him

He stepped closer and took Sonia’s empty hand.  “Sonia,” He took a deep breath, “Have you ever thought about…us? Y’know, as an…item?”

He was certain her cheeks were red now.  “An... item?”

“Forgive me; it is a phrase I heard around school.  It means ‘being together... romantically,” He was attempting to confess with a veil of confidence surrounding him, but he felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest.  He’s wanted to inquire about this for a long time, “You and I as... partners.”

He could feel her palm sweat, “A-are you saying y-you are attracted to me?”

He swallowed.  “Y-yes.”

And Sonia exhaled a sigh of relief.  “Thank goodness!  I did not ever expect you to feel this way, too!”

Gundham suddenly felt like a sack of bricks were removed from his shoulders.  “Your crystals’ magic worked,” they exchanged smiles with a new sense of wonder, “You said that your sodalite helps with finding the right thing to say?”

“Amazing!” Sonia let her hand go and rummaged through her purchases, pulling out the small crystals, “These here must have cast their magic, as well.  I bought these with the hope their magic would help us.  Moonstone is for new energy in relationships, and rose quartz is for unconditional love.”

He grinned ear to ear.  “Fantastic.  You must tell me more about these stones’ brilliant abilities.”

“Absolutely!” Sonia put the crystals back in their bag, and laced her fingers between Gundham’s, “After I buy you dinner!  You paid for the crystals, so it is only fair.”

He chuckled as Sonia dragged him forward with a new mission: a dinner date.

Prompt from This List Still taking requests!

Tip jar available on Ko-fi 💛

[whitehotharlots]

Privilege Theory is popular because it is conservative

Privilege theory, as a formal academic thing, has been around at least since 1989, when Peggy McIntosh published the now-seminal essay “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.” Even within academic cultural studies, however, privilege theory was pretty niche until about a decade ago--it’s not what you’d call intellectually sound (McIntosh’s essay contains zero citations), and its limitations as an analytical frame are pretty obvious. I went through a cultural studies-heavy PhD program in the early twenty teens and I only heard it mentioned a handful of times. If you didn’t get a humanities degree, odds are it didn’t enter your purview until 2015 or thereabouts.

This poses an obvious question: how could an obscure and not particularly groundbreaking academic concept become so ubiquitous so quickly? How did such a niche (and, frankly, weird and alienating) understanding of racial relations become so de rigeur that companies that still utilize slave labor and still produce skin whitening cream are now all but mandated to release statements denouncing it? 

Simply put, the rapid ascent of privilege theory is due to the fact that privilege theory is fundamentally conservative. Not in cultural sense, no. But if we understand conservatism as an approach to politics that seeks first and foremost to maintain existing power structures, then privilege theory is the cultural studies equivalent of phrenology or Austrian economics. 

This realization poses a second, much darker question: how did a concept as regressive and unhelpful as privilege become the foundational worldview among people who style themselves as progressives, people whose basic self-understanding is grounded in a belief that they are working to address injustice? Let’s dig into this:

First, let’s go down a well-worn path and establish the worthlessness of privilege as an analytical lens. We’ll start with two basic observations: 1) on the whole, white people have an easier time existing within these United States than non-white people, and 2) systemic racism exists, at least to the extent that non-white people face hurdles that make it harder for them to achieve safety and material success.

I think a large majority of Americans would agree with both of these statements--somewhere in the ballpark of 80%, including many people you and I would agree are straight-up racists. They are obvious and undeniable, the equivalent to saying “politicians are corrupt” or “good things are good and bad things are bad.” Nothing about them is difficult or groundbreaking.

As simplistic as these statements may be, privilege theory attempts to make them the primary foreground of all understandings of social systems and human interaction. Hence the focus on an acknowledgement of privilege as the ends and means of social justice. We must keep admitting to privilege, keep announcing our awareness, again and again and again, vigilance is everything, there is nothing beyond awareness.

Of course, acknowledging the existence of inequities does nothing to actually address those inequities. Awareness can serve as an important (though not necessarily indispensable) precondition for change, but does not lead to change in and of itself. 

I’ve been saying this for years but the point still stands: those who advocate for privilege theory almost never articulate how awareness by itself will bring about change. Even in the most generous hypothetical situation, where all human interaction is prefaced by a formal enunciation of the raced-based power dynamics presently at play, this acknowledgement doesn’t actually change anything. There is never a Step Two. 

Now, some people have suggested Step Twos. But suggestions are usually ignored, and on the rare occasions they are addressed they are dismissed without fail, often on grounds that are incredibly specious and dishonest. To hit upon another well-worn point, let’s look at the presidential campaign of Bernie Sanders. The majority of Sanders’ liberal critics admit that the senator’s record on racial justice is impeccable, and that his platform would have done substantially more to materially address racial inequities than that being proffered by any of his opponents. That’s all agreed upon, yet we are told that none of that actually matters. 

Sanders dropped out of the race nearly 3 months ago, yet just this past week The New York Times published yet another hit piece explaining that while his policies would have benefitted black people, the fact that he strayed from arbitrarily invoked rhetorical standards meant he was just too problematic to support.  

The piece was written by Sidney Ember, a Wall Street hack who cites anonymous finance and health insurance lobbyists to argue that financial regulation is racist. Ember, like most other neoliberals, has been struggling to reconcile her vague support for recent protests with the fact that she is paid to lie about people who have tried to fix things. Now that people are forcefully demanding change, the Times have re-deployed her to explain why change is actually bad even though it’s good.  

How does one pivot from celebrating the fact that black people will not be receiving universal healthcare to mourning racially disproportionate COVID death rates? They equivocate. They lean even harder on rhetorical purity, dismissing a focus on policy as a priori blind to race. Bernie never said “white privilege.” Well, okay, he did, but he didn’t say it in the right tone or often enough, and that’s what the problem was. Citing Ember:

Yet amid a national movement for racial justice that took hold after high-profile killings of black men and women, there is also an acknowledgment among some progressives that their discussion of racism, including from their standard-bearer, did not seem to meet or anticipate the forcefulness of these protests.

Kimberlé Crenshaw, the legal scholar who pioneered the concept of intersectionality to describe how various forms of discrimination can overlap, said that Mr. Sanders struggled with the reality that talking forcefully about racial injustice has traditionally alienated white voters — especially the working-class white voters he was aiming to win over. But that is where thinking of class as a “colorblind experience” limits white progressives. “Class cannot help you see the specific contours of race disparity,” she said.

Many other institutions, she noted, have now gone further faster than the party that is the political base of most African-American voters. “You basically have a moment where every corporation worth its salt is saying something about structural racism and anti-blackness, and that stuff is even outdistancing what candidates in the Democratic Party were actually saying,” she said.

Crenshaw’s point here is that the empty, utterly immaterial statements of support coming from multinational corporations are more substantial and important than policy proposals that would have actually addressed racial inequities. This is astounding. A full throated embrace of entropy as praxis. 

Crenshaw started out the primary as a Warren supporter but threw her endorsement to Bernie once the race had narrowed to two viable candidates. This fact is not mentioned, nor does Ember feel the need to touch upon any of Biden’s dozens of rhetorical missteps regarding race (you might remember that he kicked off his presidential run with a rambling story about the time he toughed it out with a black ne'er do well named Corn Pop, or his more recent assertion that if you don’t vote for him, “you ain’t black.”). The statement here--not the implication: the direct and undeniable statement--is that tone and posturing are more important than material proposals, and that concerns regarding tone and posturing should only be raised in order to delegitimize those who have dared to proffer proposals that might actually change things for the better. 

The ascendence of privilege theory marks the triumph of selective indignation, the ruling class and their media lackeys having been granted the power to dismiss any and all proposals for material change according to standards that are too nonsensical to be enforced in any fair or consistent manner. The concept has immense utility for those who wish to perpetuate the status quo. And that, more than anything, is why it’s gotten so successful so quickly. But still… why have people fallen for something so obviously craven and regressive? Why are so few decent people able to summon even the smallest critique against it? 

We can answer this by taking a clear look at what privilege actually entails. And this is where things get really, really grim:

What are the material effects of privilege, at least as they are imagined by those who believe the concept to be something that must be sussed out and eradicated? A privileged person gets to live their life with the expectation that they will face no undue hurdles to success and fulfillment because of their identity markers, that they will not be subject to constant surveillance and/or made to suffer grave consequences for minor or arbitrary offenses, and that police will not be able to murder them at will. The effects of “privilege” are what we might have once called “freedom” or “dignity.” Until very recently, progressives regarded these effects not as problematic, but as a humane baseline, a standard that all decent people should fight to provide to all of our fellow citizens. 

Here we find the utility in the use of the specific term “privilege.” Similar to how austerity-minded politicians refer to social security as an “entitlement,” conflating dignity and privilege gives it the sense of something undeserved and unearned--things that no one, let alone members of racially advantaged groups, could expect for themselves unless they were blinded by selfishness and coddled by an insufficiently cruel social structure. The problem isn’t therefore that humans are being selectively brutalized. Brutality is the baseline, the natural order, the unavoidable constant that has not been engineered into our society but simply is what society is and will always be. The problem, instead, is that some people are being exempted from some forms of brutalization. The problem is that pain does not stretch far enough.

We are a nation that worships cruelty and authority. All Americans, regardless of gender or race, are united in being litigious tattletales who take joy in hurting one another, who will never run out of ways to rationalize their own cruelty even as they decry the cruelty of others. We are taught from birth that human life has no value, that material success is morally self-validating, and that those who suffer deserve to suffer. This is our real cultural brokenness: a deep, foundational hatred of one another and of ourselves. It transcends all identity markers. It stains us all. And it’s why we’ve all run headlong into a regressive and idiotic understanding of race at a time when we desperately need to unite and help one another.