#spidcytm

Tony couldn’t believe what he heard. He forgot to breathe for a second, turned his head to look at the other - and to frown at him. No deathwishes in his damn house. Peter sat on the kitchen table while Tony was busy making coffee - the younger one poking his cereal with a spoon but not really eating any of it.

@spidcytm

《  Emma gives a slightly disappointed sigh, her eyes rolling, at least she tried to cheer him up, at least it appeared to work? SHE WOULDN’T know, she wasn’t great at this whole “friends” thing. 》

‘ it wasn’t, i was just trying to cheer you up. ’

@spidcytm

It was one of those days where he had turned on his computer to design something new that had been sitting in his mind forever - but he ended up not doing what he had planned to do. The internet was a dangerous place and he got lost in it, klicking from one page to another and... oh. Right. E-Mails. He hadn’t checked his E-Mails in forever, knowing his secretary had access to his account. Usually it was her checking his Mails, keeping him updated on the back and forth of the messages. For some reason tho he checked them himself today, ignoring everything that looked important and only studying what looked more or less like spam.

There was that one mail from the dating website he had signed up on what felt like centuries ago. He didn’t even know his account still existed. He opened the message and there was an invitation for a speed-dating event which took place in an italian restaurant which he visited occasionally. He read the Mail once then twice, deciding to just go there and do that because it was the easiest way to find someone who would spend the night with him.

He wasn’t thinking about something that could last. Just a one-night-stand, of course, because he couldn’t work all day and having sex was indoubtedly one of his favourite hobbies (next to driving fast cars and throwing strip-parties on his private jet).

And that’s how he ended up there... in that restaurant, wearing a suit but no tie, the first two buttons of his shirt open, wearing sunglasses even though the sun would only come back in about eight hours. “My name’s on the list.” he told the lady be the entrance, fancily waving his hand at her. “Stark. Are you... partaking? No? I like your smile, it’s pretty.” 

His voice was monotonous, somewhere between being serious and lying, making it hard for the lady to judge him. She just chuckled and brought him inside, telling him to sit down at one of the tables. “You know how speed-dating works, sir?” - “Course I do. You ring a bell and everyone ‘round here switches seats, right?” - “Yes. If you’d like to get to know your partner better, though, you can blow out the candle on your table and others won’t disturb the two of you any further.” - “Oh, I like that. That’s great, yeah, nice idea. Thank you very much.” he smiled at her and she smiled back, leaving him behind.

He loved New York   ;   or, at the very least, he loved the concept of New York that 24 years of longing for something beyond the endless blue of Salmon Bay had built in his mind. Perhaps its blueprint was a little different to its reality but when he stood so far beyond that skyline reaching to the heavens he felt    POWERFUL.

Like that first day in Seattle.

So, for now, he loved New York. It was vibrant and violent and everything his goodness embodied and although it was not his city, there was something in the cinders that danced about his fingertips that seemed to insinuate he could’ve been born of it none the less.

It was from those same cinders   —   in a great dragon’s puff of smoke screaming from a vent   —   that he found himself finally in the presence of its resident vigilante, bent at the hips, palms cupped upon knees. He inhaled. Exhaled. Hated the sound of the chain as it scraped the concrete when he straightened, waving a half-hearted point in his direction.

    ❝  Oh, man,  ❞

and and and he was so fucking glad that this one wasn’t running