#bigger fish to fry out there than this discourse

[goat-boy]

Wow people make Käärijä a villain in the story that is actually so much bigger than our fandom or the history we’ve lived. It’s so unfair to him. I’m scared actually and hope he will be safe <3

I think he'll be mostly fine though admittedly I'm only tuned in here on tumblr. I have definitely seen some people being incredibly harsh on here as well though and I have heard that the reaction on Twitter has been way worse. (I heard people sent kä death threats, which if true is just like really??? over this?) It's just such a strange hill to die on to me.

I see it as reflective of the more recent phenomenon of people snapping at others online for what are ultimately little mistakes or just opinions that don't fit a specific mold. I've seen literally anyone being attacked just for not holding the most extreme version of a belief.

I don't think there's much cause for concern this time. Most of what I'm seeing here on tumblr is just people wanting a better apology or explanation anyway <3

[problemnyatic]

"Trans men treat transfems like shit, trans women are so weird to transmascs-"

hey ive got an idea what if we all shut the fuck up and held hands and realized letting our dysphoria and trauma bleed out into how we treat others is something we all need to work on together and drawing lines in the sand and reinventing boys versus girls Queer Edition isn't gonna help any of us heal from the shit we're all going through in some form or another

[velvetvexations]

Looked at that Dropout spreadsheet breakdown and assuming it's all correct and I did my own math right, I'm so confused as to why people are mad about there being four more non-tfems than tfems and not there only being 10 trans cast members who have more than 5 appearances out of 74?? This is such a perfect microcosm of what's wrong with the current state of trans discourse and transradfeminism because it proves the issue isn't advancing trans rights across the board, it's about attacking other trans people for daring to exist too noticeably while the people who are actually in charge can just grab a bag of popcorn and watch the freaks destroy themselves all on their own. Just like. I can't get my head around it, they're mad because there's 4 more "TME" people than "TMA" and not that again, an abysmal small fraction of the reoccurring cast is even trans at all?? I think we have bigger fish to fry here!! Legit so salty that one kind of trans person is slightly more represented than another that none of them realize they're fighting over crumbs. I'm not even angry or disappointed, that's just. That's just it that's what's wrong with the who trans inclusive radfeminism movement. And it's really goddamn sad to see.

I mean, legit, it feels like someone getting mad that there's a disabled character in a show in a wheelchair instead of one who has OCD or uses ASL and completely ignoring the real issue which is that there's only ONE disabled character!! What the fuck are we even trying to achieve here!!

What's being achieved is one particular blogger trying to once again incite meaningless controversy to get off to a bunch of people fawning over what a based transfeminist she is.

[darcytaylor]

Nah, I'm with that other anon, this is the final straw for me, too. I look at actions, not words. You don't think Deuxmoi is on the phone with Backgrid already? A knows what she's inviting into their lives. Didn't they get papped in Italy once already? Maybe that's what she's hoping for.

The thing is, he clearly cares that people don't think ill of him. He wouldn't have retreated from SM the way that he did otherwise. He wouldn't have posted that "we won't let her ruin our night" story. He wouldn't have made the post about the scammers. I struggle to believe he can't reinforce a boundary about a behavior that keeps causing him distress and making him have to put out fires. He's got bigger fish to fry, he's juggling two projects. He may not be an ambitious person but I don't think he's actively self-destructive when it comes to his career. Are these little posts of hers worth all the shit he's getting for them? Complicit by inaction is a perfect way to put it, except now this has me wondering if he's actually complicit, as in, an active participant. I'd be very disappointed in him if he was.

I understand why this might be the final straw for you and others. I’m not here to convince anyone to support or be a fan of someone - everybody is entitled to their own opinions, and I’m not trying to change that.

It’s also not my intention to sway people toward liking a celebrity I don’t know personally, hahaha! I’m just offering a perspective based on the limited information we all have. At the end of the day, we don’t know these people, and we don’t actually know their motivation. But I understand if people need to step away and reevaluate.

I think it’s natural to question what’s really going on, especially when things don’t seem to align with someone’s previous actions or how they’ve presented themselves publicly. We’re all seeing just bits and pieces of what’s happening behind the scenes, and it’s easy to misinterpret things without the full picture.

That being said, just because Luke hasn’t called out certain behaviours or taken action, it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s complicit or okay with it. Sometimes, it’s more complicated than just setting boundaries or reacting the way we expect. People handle these things differently, especially when their personal lives are under constant scrutiny. Maybe he’s trying to balance his personal life and career, and things aren’t as clear-cut as they might seem? I don't know.

I understand why it’s disappointing if his actions feel inconsistent. I just think (for me anyway) it’s hard to judge someone’s entire situation based on the small bits of information we do have. Because at the end of the day I literally know nothing.

I also have gone into more depth about this in another ask - where the person brought up some interesting points - not sure if you have read it, but I will link it.

[atinylittlepain]

Can I just say that I am so fucking sick and tired of bi erasure/discourse/ whatever the fuck you want to call it? Really? That's the thing we're still making jokes and fighting about? Please.

Let me put my little baby therapist hat on for a second - out of the queer community, you want to know who have some of the worst mental health outcomes in terms of rates of depression, suicidality, substance use, etc? People who identify as bisexual. You want to know why? It's been theorized that we see this disparity because bisexual-identifying people don't feel accepted by either mass hetero society or the queer community so they have even less social support than their peers. And I've seen it for myself - friends who tell me they're bi like they're apologizing for something, clients telling me they don't feel like they can go to or access LGBTQ+ resources because they're not "queer enough." I mean, jesus fucking christ, we have bigger fish to fry, get over yourself and pull these people into community already, it's goddamn 2024.

[punkitt-is-here]

i know this sounds mean but i'm genuinely confused and curious so please at the very least hear me out

is it just me or are you either ignoring/in

getting angry with people who disagree with you about the bi-lesbian discourse (which i agree is stupid), even those who are trying to be respectful and understand your pov, while on the other hand when people agree with you you give them your full attention

like yeah i get it, some of the people in this discourse are just being jerks, but some people just seem to genuinely be trying to see your side

i just don't get it, why can't people try and like listen to both sides? we're all part of the same community

hey check this out

i get like a zillion of these every minute i want to answer em all but i am but one silly little internet person

the reason im angry is because I had several thousand people very suddenly start calling me a horrible person and telling me to kill myself. ive put out very detailed writings that get my point across clearly and tried to be as respectful as possible but when people immediately come at you with a sense of hostility and anger for not wanting to force people to stop using a label that makes them happy and comfortable you can only give them the time of day and the benefit of the doubt for so long. I know all the talking points, i tried understanding why people hated bi/pan lesbians for so long because I was worried i wasn't getting something, but the truth of the matter is i consumed every single angle of this stupid discussion and came out the other end still deciding that it doesn't fucking matter and the happiness of someone finding the words to describe themselves overpowers any person worried that somebody's description of themselves is erasing an identity or muddying the waters in any way. it just doesnt matter!!! it just dont!! there's old ass men that have been around longer than the stone age trying to actively genocide all queer people and I am simple a 20-something with rent to pay and a job to work and people to love. we have bigger fish to fry than listening to every single talking point of a bunch of people who can't grasp that queer people, surprise surprise, don't always fit into neat little boxes and definitely don't want to be put back in them again.

so please forgive me for only responding primarily to those who have a modicum of empathy and understanding and joy when I decide to peak into my public mailbox

[drill-teeth-art]

I wanna say like that one comic u did with abt in sys relationships. Mwah. Is everything. Definitely feel like there's a very small amount of pro endo systems here on tumblr and following even one or two helps me feel less doomer abt the plural "community" and ur comic definitely helps us feel less bad and more normal abt being a system. Flies away mysteriously

Hey, thank you omg! We're glad you enjoyed that comic so much and that our blog brings you a bit of joy!

The online system "community" is such a wreck lol. We really don't engage with it. We just hang out with systems who we know are cool in private. We don't even want to bother with system discourse as much as we can help it because it's so genuinely and deeply unproductive in our opinion.

Like. We're a system formed from long term trauma. It definitely presents its challenges. And you know honestly we have bigger fish to fry in our lives than sweating over people who are systems for non-trauma reasons. There's a variety of reasons we've heard people state their plural experience comes from ranging from spiritual plural experiences to just "shrug that's how we are". And it would kind of make us a major ass to be like "you're all wrong and lying and invalid" about experiences that we genuinely haven't experienced and never will. You say you're plural? We'll believe you when you say that. None of our business really why. Sure we can't fully relate to non-trauma plurals but like. That's fine. They can and do still exist even if we don't get it lol.

But we digress. Thanks again for reaching out! Hope ya'll take care out there!

[lemonhemlock]

Not to be sad in Miss Lemon’s asks, but it is a downer this fandom has become so ship war pilled that me, a little old Helaemond who expected nothing ao3 couldn’t give me, can’t even take the win of these actors acknowledging the ship. It’s now about how they were lying to cover up how he really is or they were doing fan service for promo. Who cares! Either way, who cares. How is that different from any other promo actors do? I can’t get excited for this entirely non canon ship to get brought up in a positive way? Nobody’s fun anymore!

hello there 🍋

unfortunately, anon, i don't think ship wars are going to get any better. i understand the scene between aemond and helaena hasn't leaked in its entirety though? so, if some helaemond vibes do manage to come across, i expect some segments of this fandom will have a full meltdown and take out their ire on helaemonds

and this is an older ask from a couple of weeks ago on the same topic:

Anonymous asked: feel free to ignore more ship discourse, but what ruffles my feathers is ewan and phia confirmed everything people saw for helaemond; they said there was nothing explicit in the script, but the two of them felt these characters were at least comfortable with each other, and they played it that way. and it comes through on screen! that’s why people picked up on helaemond as a ship! but because this fandom is so obsessed with being “right” and what’s canon, they call it fan service that they joked around about the ship and explained their own headcanons. nevermind the same thing is being done right now with criston/gwayne, and people are eating that up 😭 it’s fun for the actors and fun for the shippers. What’s the harm? why is everyone obsessed with something needing to be 100% canon? it’s never going to stop the shippers

during the hiatus, the biggest "concern" antis had was that helaemond made the greens "hypocrites". well, what do they have to say now after the repeated character assassinations of season 2? 😂 it's very ironic because, had the greens remained mostly their book!selves with the sole changes of rhaenicent* and helaemond becoming canon, they would be in a better position character-wise than the constant flip-floping flimsiness we got. ☠ so, to STILL be pressed about this............. honey, you've got bigger fish to fry now. have some perspective

*which we can't get rid of, since they made alicent and rhaenyra childhood besties

[ghostcrows]

I think really now might be a worse time than ever to get swept up arguing w other trans people on the internet like I will get focused on some lame discourse that's currently circulating and then find out they're scheming bills to try to keep us out of the public eye completely under threat of prosecution and it's like ok we have bigger fish to fry...

[h-worksrambles]

Rare moment to rant but it’s genuinely so tiring how often I get Final Fantasy VII ship discourse on my Twitter feed. Especially because it tells me a lot of folks out there have the same understanding of romantic relationships as a 12 year old.

The biggest element that sticks with me is there is such shockingly low understanding of what’s honestly a fairly clear cut love triangle. Like sure, Cloud, Tifa and Aerith have a fair amount of romantic chemistry but it’s confused and uncertain. Cloud isn’t really sure what he feels towards either of them even if there’s definitely something there, and they’ve all kind of got bigger fish to fry anyway so it goes unsaid (until it’s too late in Aerith’s case). Instead, it’s turned into this bizarre mental gymnastics where instead of engaging with the fact that a lot of these characters aren’t sure what they feel towards each other, it’s turned into a petty debate where you ‘win’ by proving that two characters have only ever loved each other and have never do much as looked at another person.

There’s this really juvenile idea among many Cloti and Clerith shippers that if either character has had other relationships prior, then it makes their pairing a runner up or sloppy seconds or whatever. Or that if you loved one person once, and then lost them for whatever reason, then it’s a betrayal to ever have feelings for anyone ever again. When that’s just…not how relationships work.

Some of y’all do not understand the concept of having complicated emotions toward someone or having feelings for more than one person in your lifetime. This idea that you can only love one person over the course of your life and anything else taints it is so childish. It also makes the dynamics between the characters so much more boring to only focus on one character dynamic and only look at it from a purely romantic lens.

And that’s without getting into how it leaves so much of the rest of the story and themes unexplored to just get into petty fights about who ends up with who but that’s just ship wars in a nutshell.

I do not usually bother with ship discourse. But I had to get this out there because this infests my timeline and it really bugs me.

[anyroads]

Listen, I'm already tired of the discourse and it hasn't even started yet and if it were up to me this whole Harry Potter HBO show would get canned before the first script is even finished, but uhhhh

I keep seeing posts that are like, "they're going to cast 12 year olds and then use the criticism we throw at them to say that we [who's we? people who support trans folk? the left? anyone against anti-semitism?] are clearly terrible people because we go after children so we can't do it" and "they're going to cast a little black girl as Hermione o get diversity points and throw her to the wolves who are mad at the reboot so listen we're not gonna be mad at the kids..."

Like, listen. Listen y'all. If you feel you have to point out to people that they shouldn't go after literal children, you have bigger fish to fry than a problematic tv show. If there's genuine worry on posts hitting 30, 40, 50K notes that this community, whatever it is, might drag a handful of 12 year olds, some shit needs to be re-evaluated. Maybe the first one might be why not one of the posts I've seen has even said, "remember the people responsible are the producers and writers and directors" or why every post that I have seen has framed not going after child actors as a tactical move on behalf of a political statement and not once as the basic, decent thing to do. You've already objectified children who haven't even been cast yet, can y'all maybe not?

[meangan-thee-lesbian]

so you've stated before you think non-gold stars can be lesbians. how can a female thats slept with males be a lesbian ?

Well, you see, living in Australia means I'm pretty much surrounded by countries that still criminalise homosexuality. A lot of the lesbians I've met over the years have fled these countries. I've heard stories about arranged marriages and conversion therapy and corrective rape and other assorted horrors that, as a westerner, I could barely imagine otherwise. Hearing these stories is actually what made me pursue international gay and lesbian rights for my legal honours thesis, and it's a topic I've remained interested in ever since.

I think us first-world gays have a very insular and protected view of the world. Sure, we might have experienced some homophobia and probably still do. I've been stalked by cops and fired from a job for being a lesbian. But that's a very different, and comparatively privileged, experience to the very real and immediate fear for your life that most gays and lesbians around the world still live with, every second of their lives.

I think the idea that ONLY gold star lesbians are real lesbians is a very first-world perspective that ignores the experience of the majority of gays and lesbians around the world. I don't think a lesbian choosing to sleep with a man when the other option is being forcibly drugged, sterilised, mutilated, correctively raped, tortured and/or murdered, really says anything about whether she's a 'real lesbian' or not. Sure, a lot of lesbians in these situations still do endure the violence or even die before trying men, but I think it's more a case of 'would you prefer to jump out a burning building or die in the fire'. In any case, these are the kind of choices that most lesbians globally have to make, and stating that any woman who has chosen to sleep with men isn't really a lesbian I think at best is ignorant, and at worst is actually harmful to statistics about lesbian hate crimes.

That said, when another white first-world woman like myself proclaims she 'tried men, or even had a husband and five kids, but that doesn't make her any less of a lesbian and fuck them snotty gold stars who tell me otherwise', well, I'm probably gonna keep telling her otherwise lmao

Most of these females have led obviously simple lives, enjoying the benefits of a heterosexual relationship, and not experiencing any major hardship irt their sexuality. Certainly not the sort of 24/7, visceral, fear for your life, type of hardship most other lesbians in the world do. I think these first-world women trying to cry 'comphet' or whatever is actually kind of insulting to the lesbians around the world who have experienced actual violent compulsory heterosexuality. Folding to peer pressure is not anywhere in the same ballpark, and it actually makes me pretty fucking mad having to listen to that type of privileged bullshit.

Like, if we want to be controversial, I can maybe understand a female who tried men once, was disinterested, and has stuck to women ever since. I can't relate, because men gross me tf out so I would never be in that situation. But on the face of it, being a lesbian is just about exclusive attraction to women. You don't necessarily have to feel any type of way about men, other than just not being attracted to them. A female fucks a man once and says 'yeah nah that was boring as shit', I could probably accept her calling herself a lesbian. But if you've had three kids to five different baby daddies and a whole ass heterosexual marriage then lol sorry, but it's a no from me.

But again, that whole discourse is very first-world and I think the significance of it pales in comparison to what the majority of lesbian women in the world have to go through. To me the 'gold star lesbian' label is a bit of fun, and at its most serious reveals the face of heteronormativity which is increasingly permeating the first-world lesbian sphere. But imo, there's bigger fish to fry and I'm very hesitant with making any sort of sweeping generalisations about lesbians that doesn't sit well with what I know to be the reality for most lesbians around the world.

[luckywolfsbane]

Trans People and T.I.C

The trans population in Islandias is widely accepted. You're a weirdo if you hate on trans folks, i.e. transphobia is more stigmatized than trans individuals. Most people will take you on face value with how you present and will respectfully adjust as needed for anyone who they can't outright read. It's a very inclusive society, mostly because they have bigger fish to fry. Black clouds could cover the land and sap the life out of everything on a whim, so what's between a strangers legs isn't a real priority.

The vast majority of trans people in Islandias will go through hormone replacement, puberty blockers, and surgeries as the trans people in our world do. In some ways, they're more advanced thanks to the lack of stigma and the time they've had to research. Of course, it all comes down to what the individual needs.

That said, it's not without discourse. Magic being what it is, there is a procedure often referred to as "transmutation." These specific trans folks are called "transmuted." The discourse is mostly around the procedure, not so much the person's identity. The stigma still affects transmuted individuals, though.

Transmutation is a nearly instantaneous shift in a body's physical make-up. It takes around 16 hours from start to finish and, while difficult to undergo due to the time length and physical strain involved, leaves the individual's body seamlessly transitioned into the gender and sex of their choosing.

Post procedure, their form is considered unstable. They will revert back to their original form in three days' time if they neglect to keep themselves stable. Meaning, they must take a magic-infused, prescription supplement called a "stabilizer." The individual, no matter origin or end goal, will need to take these stabilizers for the rest of their lives if they want to remain transmuted.

While reversal is possible and the procedure can be performed again, reverting to one’s original form without intervention is twice as painful and takes around 32 hours from start to finish. Reverting transmuted individuals have been known to have life ending cardiac events, aneurysms, hemorrhages, and strokes during this period. It can be performed safely if the individual so chooses, but most who revert do so due to destabilizing and not seaking immediate medical attention. As such, it is ill-advised to skip so much as a single dose of stabilizers. It takes three days of missed doses to revert, but the risks remain high for even one missed dose.

Early signs of revertion are: excessive sweating; exponential water intake; hyperactivity; anxiety; erratic behavior; sudden bouts of anger; stabbing pains throughout the body; uncontrolled magic activation; headaches; excessive bleeding; and temporary uncontrollable muscle-movements.

[none-gender-left-man]

Ok I swear this is the last I'm gonna post about the Travis McElroy discourse but I've seen Multiple people say some "imagine defending a cishet so hard" shit and lemme tell you why that's nonsense.

I don't normally go out of my way to defend cishets either, but this man is still disabled and people saying this shit is off topic and irrelevant. This includes ND and disabled people I'm seeing say this shit and then use their own condition as a pass to be ableist to someone else. You are not immune to internalized ableism.

Yes, he is cishet. This is irrelevant to my point, which about ableism. Please tell me y'all know cishets can be neurodivergent??? Idk what the fuck y'all are trying to say when you bring gender and sexuality into it bc I'm talking about his disabilities not his identity.

Someone having some privileges doesn't erase their marginalized traits. Yes, Travis McElroy is a Cisgender Hetero man. He is also STILL neurodivergent and deserves to have that respected. Stop Targetting his neurodivergent traits when you criticize him (enthusiasm, hypersensitivity, etc.), and don't throw him under the bus the second he makes a slip when he's actively trying to be more self aware and is acknowledging his mistakes.

Progress is not linear, neurodivergent people don't make progress in a straight upward slope, and regressions backward can occur. This doesn't mean the individual isn't trying or doesn't deserve support and care. Don't coddle him when he fucks up, but also don't act like venomous middle school bullies maybe? That's not helping, and actually makes shit worse.

Punitive social backlash isn't always the answer to teach someone better, and in cases with people like Travis who mean well, put in effort, and genuinely care about improving themselves, it's downright counteractive and will only slow his growth. Shaming him and setting off his RSD en masse won't fucking help?

You can criticize him when he fucks up, PLEASE do, but don't fucking attack his character or misrepresent him as some evil fake who doesn't actually care about people, because THAT is ableism. That is cluster B stigma. Having NPD and therefore low empathy doesn't make him irredeemable or incapable of compassion and he is TRYING. That is the whole point of every post I've made about this situation. I've said it once and I'll say it again: being a neurodivergent person with platform and fame shouldn't be an immediate sentence to cancellation when small mistakes that can be corrected are made.

Now, there are certainly bigger concerns than an internet funnyman getting overwhelmed on a stream or accidentally being performative and then apologizing and taking time to reflect for that. So this is the last I have to say on this topic bc unlike some of y'all I know we have bigger fish to fry than a neurodivergent comedian having some social slips in the public eye. Be nice, let his therapist do their job,stop being so underhanded, and stay on topic when you're criticizing him.

[kitcat992]

│Identity Saga │Narrative Discourse (The Steps to "Son")

Identity Saga

It doesn't matter how much time dwindles on since writing the first installment of the Identity Saga; some days, it feels no different than if it were last week. And completing Tony's journey of self-growth — allowing himself to open up and bring Peter into his life as 'more than a mentee' — was absolutely one of my favorite things about writing Identity Theft.

I remember starting this story the night I saw Infinity War; I fell head over heels for what little interaction we saw between Tony and Peter in that movie, combined with Spider-Man: Homecoming. And like most things I latched onto those seeds and breadcrumbs and went wild with it. I wanted to see create the journey that got Tony to being a "dad figure" and decide if I was going to do it, I'd be going all in. It was the slowest of burns I've ever written, but the most satisfying, all at the same time.

Through-out Identity Theft, we watched Tony and Peter evolve after a 6ish month gap from Homecoming to narrative present. From "mentee" to "like a son", it was a huge pleasure (and one of my biggest accomplishments, at the time) to take Tony through that journey. Following each event of the story, we got to see himself allow the destruction of the barricades that kept him from bringing someone close into his life. And most importantly, begin to see himself as a pseudo father-figure — especially after the hangups he's had in his own life.

As Identity Crisis comes to a conclusion — with the second installment following Peter's journey from "mentor" to "like a dad" — I think it's important to revisit the narrative discourse of Tony's character growth through this saga. Providing relationships that felt "earned" through organic growth and pacing was my goal with this series, and even with the word count far exceeding what I ever anticipated (along with a time-frame that I never expected in completing the saga) I'm very proud to have gotten these characters where they are in the narrative.

Tony deserved this in the MCU. In my little sandbox of stories, he got it.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 1: Prologue

Tony scoffed, mildly amused. “Jesus kid, that’s the best question you can come up with? That part was borderline child's play.”

“Yeah, well, no, it’s just —” Peter stumbled over his words, scooting his stool closer to where Tony sat. And then closer after that. “Facial recognition typically uses bio metrics for its body measurements and calculations, to—to you know, refer to metrics related to human characteristics, but its used in access control, never memory stored control. And I can’t imagine a simple storage unit could hold all this information and relay it back to the recognition program in time to provide results, so…how'd you do it?"

Tony hummed, giving a short and sharp nod. If there was one thing he could always count on, it was that Parker could talk his head off when it came to science. And while he had days where he doubted supplying the kid with so much technology to support his vigilante heroism — six months ago, for example, when the Ferry Incident was still fresh in his mind — it was moments like this that renewed his confidence in the young lad.

He wouldn't admit it aloud, but it made him proud.

Or some mutated form of the emotion he hadn't quite figured it out yet.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 6: Breakfast at Tony’s

“My intent was never malicious with Peter." Tony sighed, rubbing harshly at the nape of his neck. "He’s just a boy trying to keep his family and friends safe and honestly, can you be angry with that? None of you can look me in the eye and say you wouldn’t want the same thing." Tony noticeably turned to Clint. "Hell, Barton, your entire family is a secret from the world.”

Clint shrugged, not making an attempt to dispute the fact.

Tony continued on, “I respected his request and followed through with it. So if you have anyone to be mad at, it’s me — but it’d be pretty damn stupid to stay mad over something like this. We have bigger fish to fry.”

Rhodey looked between him and Peter, raising an eyebrow with curiosity.

“You trust him then?” he asked.

It was easy for Rhodey to tell when Tony was bullshitting. They had been friends for a long time, way before Iron Man, long before Afghanistan — there was a foundation between them that couldn’t be rattled. His entire life changed along with Tony’s, somehow joining him in the crazy ride of War Machine, the brief blip of Iron Patriot, and ultimately landing with the Avengers.

So when Tony nodded, he wholeheartedly believed him.

“I do,” Tony said, flapping a hand in Peter's general vicinity. “He’s good. He’s better than good, he’s great.”

Nobody missed how Peter looked up at hearing those words, his eyes sparkling with a sense of pride that made him grin ear-to-ear. For a moment, Tony looked nowhere else but at that. A shadow of a grin washed across his own face, something that not one person in the room didn’t notice.

The exchange was brief, but unique, giving Tony a different light to him; a humility that bounced off him no different than the skylights from above.

Steve noted that.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 7: New Kid on the Block

Tony pounded on the kid's back as he coughed dirty river water onto the ground with each action, his inhales wet and rickety.

“Breathe, kid, breathe…” he calmly instructed him, obviously not wavered by the thumbs up that Peter insisted on giving, not until his coughs dissipate and his breaths were less shaky.

Peter took a deep inhale, this time clean and dry. He watched in front of him as Sam contained the much smaller rock creature — and he laughed.

“Holy crap, he’s so small now! That’s just…” Peter grinned ear-to-ear. “That was so awesome! Way more awesome than the Android, which is still so awesome. Holy crap, that was —”

Peter stopped mid-sentence as Tony removed his Iron Man mask, exposing much less happy features than what he was experiencing.

Oh crap. He was in trouble — he had to be in trouble - he must have screwed up and now they were angry with him, again — angry again. Heart plummeting to the sopping wet soles of his feet, Peter gulped hard enough to shake his throat.

“Mr. Stark, I —”

His apology was cut short when Tony laid a hand on his shoulder, sighing with relief.

“You did good, kid,” he said. “You scared the devil out of me, but you did real good.”

Peter grinned, possibly wider than before. Mr. Stark wasn’t angry — no, he seemed almost…proud. And though it wasn’t much, barely a twitch of his lips, he could tell Tony was also smiling.

He did good.

Peter nodded in thanks, wiping away the dirty water from his mouth. He did good.

Those few words were the best he had heard in a long time, feeling a sense of pride in himself that he hadn’t felt in months. Suddenly, all the overlapping failures washed away — the Daily Bugle's headlines didn't mean squat to him. Not with the approval he'd just received.

Tony must have noticed his happiness, because he went from having his hand on him to wrapping his entire arm around his shoulder with a tight squeeze.

Peter relished in it.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 8: Afterparty

It wasn’t too long into their trip to Queens though that Peter fell quiet, and Tony briefly considered turning on music to fill the silence. Sparing a glance to the passenger’s seat where Peter sat, he ultimately decided against it.

“Damn, kid,” Tony muttered. “Talked yourself right to sleep.”

While he would have liked to believe as much, Tony knew better than that. He could see the day was wearing thin on Peter by the time the sun had set, the bags under his eyes growing darker with each hour. He had to wonder if the kid had even slept last night.

Still, he kept up the facade well, eagerly talking to everyone like the energizer bunny he was.

That was the thing with Peter — always moving, always bouncing and jittery.

Tony could only imagine how much adrenaline had pumped through the kid’s veins, between last nights adventure and then his geeky-self getting overwhelmed hanging out with the team. It had to be enough energy to fuel a third world country, and the crash was probably just as bad.

He looked back to the road, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He wasn’t sure how or when he got into this situation, but deep down inside, he knew it didn’t bother him. The fact it didn’t bother him probably bothered him, but he’d deal with that another time.

The kid did good today. He did better than good, he did great — fantastic, amazing even. This little amazing Spider-Man saving the day like a pro. It was like a sense of pride that bubbled within him, happy to see the kid excel, take the reins at the crazy job he was thrown into.

Tony knew Peter had it within him. To be the hero, to be better than he was. He just needed the guidance.

It was something Howard Stark failed at.

His father gave him all the money in the world, but he never gave the guidance Tony needed. It took Afghanistan for him to realize he needed to be his own light in the darkness. It took more than that to realize he had to do better for the world — the Battle of New York, Ultron. The Accords, and the dismantling that followed.

Looking over at Peter again, Tony softened. He didn’t know what it was about the teenager that drew him in like a magnet. All he needed was an extra hand in Berlin, something to convince Rogers that he was off his rocker and needed to come to his senses. They should have parted ways after that, there was no reason for him to become so connected. And yet half his year was spent focused on the Spider-kid —

No.

Peter.

He was focused on Peter.

It was almost as if they were one in the same. Two damaged souls just trying to make the world a better place, so their pain wouldn’t be experienced by anyone else.

Tony knew he shouldn’t be getting so close. People close to him got hurt — he hurt those close to him. It was instinct by this point; the toxic, inevitable nature within him that he couldn’t shake. And now Peter was close — he was close to the team, his life, his world —

It was asking for trouble.

Somehow, along the journey he had taken as Iron Man, this fifteen-year-old kid looked up to him. He was a role model now — what the hell was he supposed to do with that? There wasn’t anything good about him to look up to. If anything, he was the example of what not to do.

'Don't do anything I would do. And don't do anything I wouldn't do.'

Yeah, that summed him up pretty damn well.

Tony looked up in the rearview mirror, the headlights from behind them highlighting the browns in his eyes. It was strange — an odd feeling, knowing Peter admired him. It kind of made him sick to his stomach, and not just because of the sappiness behind it all.

This was dangerous territory. Guiding a kid, mentoring a kid. This wasn't what he set out to do.

Being Iron Man, flying in the skies, saving the world — that seemed like a piece of cake compared to this. There wasn’t a playbook on how to mentor a teenager — scratch that, a teenage superhero.

The most he could do was try.

It would mean headaches — all kinds of headaches, frustration, stress — Tony knew exactly what kind of trouble this was asking for. But he owed it to the kid to at least try.

He owed it to himself.

“Is it worth it, Tony?” Steve had asked him. “Is he worth it?”

The procession of streetlights and passing cars illuminated the interior of the car, shinning inside just long enough for Tony to catch the sight of Peter curled up in the leather passenger seat. His head was lolled to the side, his arms clutching the bag that contained his spider-suit. His mouth was slightly ajar, and light snores slipped out with each breath he took.

Yeah, Tony decided. He’s worth it.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 10: And Washed the Spider Out

Somehow, and for some reason, Tony's eyes locked onto the scattered papers on his desk.

The MIT brochures stared back at him.

Mocking him.

“I just…I don’t know, Mr. Stark.” Peter hesitantly set the brochures on the work table, stepping back with caution. “I can’t leave New York. What about Spider-Man, protecting the little guy? I can’t do that from MIT. And—and I can’t —”

“You can’t what?” Tony snapped in a way that was purely controlled, a vibration of intimidation that shook Peter’s core. If looks could kill, he'd surely be six feet under from the piercing glare the billionaire gave him.

Peter bowed his head, his eyes locked on his dirty sneakers.

“I can’t leave Aunt May.” His words were quiet, his hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. “She needs me, Mr. Stark. I can’t just leave her...not yet.”

Tony squeezed the screwdriver in his hand so tightly that the metal tip broke through skin, a stream of blood trickling out.

It didn't hurt enough. It ached, throbbed, and stung, but it didn't hurt enough to distract him from the sickening pain in his heart.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

“Goddamnit!”

It took one sweep of his arm to knock over everything on the table. Papers, tools, and random mechanical parts fell to the ground with a clatter and bang. It wasn’t long after that he decided, screw it, the entire table can join them. And then once he knocked the table to the ground, Tony kicked the chair over as well. He kicked it — kicked, kicked and kicked it, slamming it against the wall with the force of his anger. 

“Damn it!” he kicked repeatedly, angrily. “Damn it, GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”

He screamed because he needed to, his voice harsh and jarring, because he had to, because this isn't happening, this isn't real, this can't be real.

But it was. Tony had no ability to change it, no amount of money to fix it, no control over any of it. He croaked as his knees buckled under his weight, pathetically sinking down onto the stool with a deafening headache starting to drown out the scratchy pain in his throat.

And he let himself be.

It was like a tidal wave, the grief. Washing over him instantaneously.

He heard the whoosh of the sliding doors but never the alert from his AI. Because he shut it off, of course. Though he wouldn’t have needed the warning to begin with.

Tony knew exactly who it was.

“You’ve gone too far with your override privileges, Pep.”

His voice was so ragged he didn't even recognize it, wet with tears and clouded with pain. It didn't sound like him at all.

“Tony...” Her voice was steadier than he expected it to be. 

He was reluctant to let her near him. To let her feel the anger and shame radiating off him, to see him in such a weak, pathetic state. Yet he never made a move to otherwise stop her.

She knew it all, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“He was just a kid." Tony shut his eyes and held them tight. “I’m the adult. I was supposed to protect him. He was just a kid.”

Hunched over on the stool, Tony never moved. Pepper approached him and without any hesitation, without any shame, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head close to her, letting him rest in the tuck of her stomach where she stood.

“It’s okay, Tony.” Pepper ran her hand through his hair. “It’s okay…”

It hit him with capsizing quickness. Tony felt himself pulled forward, as if the weight in his chest was enough to define gravity. The sobs wretched through him and he wailed, like a dying animal, crying in agony.

They came one after another, harsh and loud, until he couldn't breathe, until he was gasping from the exertion of dissolving into his emotions. Her shirt became soaked with his tears, but neither cared. She held him closer as his cries howled in the room.

“It’s okay, Tony.” Pepper’s own voice cracked. “Shhh, it’s okay.”

There was no physical mark, no external catalyst for his distress — he made it out okay. He wasn’t swallowed up by the burning flames, eating away at his flesh and muscles and stripping him of the life he knew. He was okay.

But he was still burning, gasping with panic at flames that didn't exist.

Throat aching, his sobs died to thin, whistling intakes of air, choking on his own tears when they hiccupped in his throat.

“I can’t fix this. I can’t fix this,” Tony gasped, over and over. “I can’t fix this, Pep. I can’t bring him back.”

Pepper held him tighter, her own tears salty on her lips.

“I failed him." He choked on another sob, pulling tight at his chest. "I — I failed him.”

Pepper didn't respond.

Tony didn't need her to.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 11: Avengers Disassembled

“We lost him too, you know," Steve's voice was almost too quiet to hear.

Tony wished it had been.

“You lost him?” Tony scoffed, the sound piercingly angry. He slammed his mug down on the table, uncaring as the contents split everywhere. "I'm sorry, exactly how long did you know him?"

Steve met his angry eyes with soft ones, stripping him of every decade he slept frozen in ice.

“You’re right,” he nodded, struggling to find the right words to say — it showed in the bob of his throat, highlighting the shadow that covered his jaw. “It's not that I don't wish I had known him sooner. Or longer. Because I do, we all do. Peter was a good kid." Steve frowned, the downward tug of his lips creating lines on his face Tony hadn't seen before. "It's just...he obviously meant a lot to you, Tony. I don’t think I’ve ever…”

There was a pause.

Steve looked down to the coffee cup on the table, watching as the mess began to leak driblets onto the ground. One drop at a time, creating a small puddle on the marble floor. A mess that somebody, at some point, would need to clean up.

“You called him your kid.” Steve forced his eyes away from the dripping coffee, back to where Tony sat. His head tilted to the side, just narrowly. “Last week…out on the island…you called him your kid.”

The coffee kept dripping.

Tony barely craned his head around to look at Steve — close enough now that if he wanted to take a seat next to him on the couch, he could. If Tony hadn't been so confused, he would've made a run for the other sofa. Or jump straight down the stairs, need be. Whatever it meant to get Steve away from him.

Curiosity always did win when it came to Stark's. And Steve's out-of-the-blue comment was just enough to grab his attention.

"Your point?" Tony made a face that was caught between insulted and perplexed, and something else he was too tired to figure out.

Steve found himself leaning against the armrest of the sofa, slowly, enough that the movement didn't jostle the man sitting there.

“Tony…” Steve started to say. “Was he actually your son —?”

“No!” Tony's eyes were wide enough to fall onto the floor. Jesus, if that didn't get him to sober up quickly. "Christ, no, I didn't have — no!"

He definitely needed to go heavier on the whiskey. Tony brought a hand to his forehead, not realizing it was wet with coffee until it smeared against his temple. He cursed under his breath, rubbing the back of his hand roughly against his jeans before returning to a halfhearted temple massage.

This was exactly the shit he'd been worried about with Parker. Rumors, speculation, tabloid garbage nonsense that would spread like wildfire — this was part of why he wanted to keep Peter secret from the team.

A scoff shook his back. So much for that.

Despite Tony's outburst, Steve still seemed wary. His head tilted further to the side, his confusion deepening. All the more visible underneath the lack of sleep that coated his features.

It was a tired Captain America that Tony took pity on. His confusion was no different than Bambi on a dewy morning, lost and looking for answers. Glancing over at Steve — really looking at him — and Tony didn't understand how even the blues of his eyes had deepened with that confusion. It was almost enough to make him scoff again — because of course Rogers could pull off the Bambi eyes when he wanted to.

Screw it. It didn't matter now. It didn't matter what the team knew and what they didn't know.

It wasn't like Peter was around to worry about anymore.

"He wasn't...he wasn't my kid, no," Tony let out that scoff after all. "He’s been — he was— hanging around here. A lot. More often than I probably should have let him.”

Tony adjusted himself on the sofa, attempting to straighten his back in a way that would evoke poise they both knew he didn’t have right now. The sip of coffee he took only further deteriorated that attempt. The hand holding his mug began to tremble with the liquid he hadn't consumed in ages.

“What can I say, he was needy and I needed..." Tony didn't realize his foot was tapping against the floor until the sound started to aggravate him. "It doesn't matter what I needed."

Identity Theft│ Chapter 12: The Doctor Is In

“You came here to tell us Peter is still alive." Wanda looked up at Strange, the expression that fell on her face tighter than the words that thickened her accent. "You want us to find him.”

It wasn't a question. Rather, an acknowledgment of his task.

Stephen simply nodded. “I have been warned, by the Vishanti, that the death of your ward —”

“He wasn’t my ward,” Tony snapped.

Stephen noticeably rolled his eyes. “Whatever relationship exists here — it’s the catalyst. If not taken care of, it will start a chain of events beyond our control of stopping. Beyond even my control of stopping.”

“What chain of events?” Tony asked, hard-pressed, the liquor that left his system no longer at play for his anger. “What’s so awful from one kid kicking the bucket?”

Stephen didn't answer right away. The silence that followed seemed to be the longest yet, with a faint line deepening across his forehead.

Finally, “I have not been granted that knowledge.”

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Or perhaps the day’s events finally took a toll on him. Maybe, even, he couldn't handle his whisky as well as he could in the past. But for a moment, Tony stared ahead blankly, unable to think of a proper response. His mind went empty, his brain going blank. He blinked, once and then twice, before wearily shaking his head.

“Alright, I’ve entertained this long enough.” Tony turned around, shooing him away with his arm. “Grab your rabbit and leave through your top hat, or whatever pyrotechnic light show you have in your back pocket. I’m not sending anyone to walk you out, so you’re on your own —”

“Your kid is still alive!” Stephen argued, stepping forward — his feet hit the floor as loud as his voice broke through his throat.

Tony spun fast on his heels, the rage in his eyes blazing hot. “I watched him die.”

Stephen shook his head. “You watched a building explode.”

Tony pointed an accusing finger his way. “That he was in.”

Stephen slammed an open palm into his chest.

And the world stopped.

Tony felt it before he saw it. A sudden displacement from his body, as if his mind had become its own entity; disconnecting from everything that held him grounded in the real world.

Stephen used one hand to grab the wrist of the finger that pointed at him, yanking him forward in one harsh tug. With one fluid motion, he slammed his open palm into Tony's chest. The strike was so hard it knocked him off balance.

Or at least, it would have. It should have.

Tony was witnessing real time in milliseconds, possibly even slower. Fractions of milliseconds. Fractions of fractions of milliseconds. He stared at his own body — his own body, caught in slow motion, stumbling backward.

Stephen's hand was still on him, covering his t-shirt, the balls of his heels barely having barely lifted off the ground.

With shaking panic, Tony realized that he wasn’t in his body anymore.

He stared at his hands with disbelief. The rough, callous fingers were so faint, so tangible that he could see the floor below him, as if his skin were made of sheer glass. His physical body continued to fall backward, centimeter by centimeter, destined to hit the floor. The surrounding world around him moved like molasses; all as he floated away, a translucent form with no control.

And then, he was sent soaring.

Tony could feel the air knocked from his lungs at the forced momentum, losing all connection with the world that once was. He could feel the wind fly through his hair, hitting his skin, his stomach rolling with waves of nausea as he flew faster than Iron Man could ever dream of going.

It was a blur and spectrum of colors. A roller coaster caught within a kaleidoscope. Tony was vaguely aware that he was shouting, possibly even screaming — hysterically screaming. But he couldn’t comprehend anything that was going on.

He couldn’t connect with what was around him.

And then he stopped. Face to face with dazed, glassy, brown eyes.

Young eyes.

Panicked eyes.

Peter’s eyes.

Tony could hear the kid's breathing — each inhale raspy, forced. For one split of a second, he heard a heartbeat.

Alive.

Living. 

One blink, and everything was gone.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 12: The Doctor Is In

Tony took a deep breath, this time through his mouth, and tried to hone in his mind. He even closed his eyes the second time around. The crickets chirped, and his own breath echoed in his ears, all the while he faintly heard Strange whisper under his breath.

“Clear your mind…”

Tony was never good at meditation. If he had an idea for an invention, he could focus on it for months. If given an object to fix, he’d do his damnedest to repair it. But mediation meant silence, and silence usually followed uncomfortable thoughts.

Howard, his mom. Afghanistan, Obadiah, Vanko, Hammer, Killian…

He shook his head, fighting to steer his mind in the right direction. These people brought his demons to life; they weren’t what — and who — he needed to be focused on. They were people that made his life hell. People who were out to get him.

Loki, Barnes, Ultron —

‘Come on, treat this like a problem.' Tony growled, the sound muted in his chest. 'You can fix this. You can fix yourself.’

It was a joke to even trick himself into that. He knew he could never fix himself. But he was lucky enough to have people around him to get him through the day. Pepper, Rhodey — hell, though he hated to admit it, he had the entire team of Avengers watching his back. He may be a hot piping mess, but he’d never have to be one alone.

And Peter. The kid was glued to his side whether he wanted him to be or not. Peter never saw the bad in him. Even with his entire history laid out in newspapers, recorded in videos, spread across the tabloids — Peter shrugged it off as though it didn’t bother him.

The kid had so much life in him. Even on his worst days, the kid smiled with more love than Tony could ever give back. For the longest time he believed he was mentoring the kid to be like him — but he soon realized that having Peter in his life was making him the better man, not the other way around. He made every beat of his heart worth it.

Peter made him want to be a better person. To not let his baggage and trauma control his life. To spend the evening in bed with Pepper rather than in his workshop — because life was short and he didn’t know how long he had with her. To make more time with Rhodey, because they had been friends for decades and the man deserved better than what company he had been providing.

To forgive Steve, because mistakes shouldn’t always define the man.

“When you can do the things I can…but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.”

For a moment, Tony stopped breathing. He didn’t realize it, but the air halted in his chest, stagnant with the thoughts that passed by in his mind. His forehead creased as he focused so intently, and so deeply, on the memories that made his arms quiver and his eyes twitch.

But he could see it — he could see a young Peter; sitting on his bed in his Queens apartment, the kid all but starstruck at the concept of talking with Tony Stark. He could see him ripping off his Spider-Man mask, giddy and excited at his first team-up with Iron Man. And for one short moment, he could feel him, his own arm wrapped around the lanky but built teenager as they walked away from the island together.

For a moment, he felt at peace.

Stephen was the one to come out of his trance with a gasp, a thud on the ground that startled Tony back to the present. From the way his clothes shook, Tony could only assume something magical had happened.

And he missed it.

Well, damn.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 15: Parker Luck

Something inside Steve finally broke. When Tony briskly walked past him, attempting to reach the rest of the team, he grabbed onto his bicep tightly. Stalling him from moving any further.

“You good?” Steve asked, his voice almost too low to hear.

Tony looked over at him, stone-cold sober with exhaustion that sank deep in his bones.

“I will be once we get this over with,” he answered.

Steve didn’t let go of his grip. “You know we have your back on this, Tony. Right?”

Tony shook him off, roughly at that, with his brows furrowed tight.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve had a million different thoughts raging in his head — things he wanted to say yesterday, the day before that, and the day before it all. It burned a hole deep inside of him, screaming to get out.

They didn’t have time for it, though. The others stood across the room waiting for them both; waiting to leave any second now. With resignation, Steve settled on the most straightforward answer he could muster up.

“It means we’re going to find him.” Steve tilted his chin low, his eyes locking onto Tony’s. “And we’re all going to come back, together.”

What he didn't say out loud was heard, loud and clear in the emphasis of his words. There wouldn't be sacrifices made. This wasn't New York — they weren't doing that again.

Tony paused, his tongue running across his teeth before he popped his lips together, turning to face Steve head-on with a strong fury emitting from the pores of his skin.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Rogers," he started, each word heavier than the last. "Whatever we’re about to walk into, the end result is bringing Peter home. If for one second, there needs to be a decision made between the kid, or me, or anyone else, you best believe the kid comes first. Every time,” his tone was deep and rumbled like gravel. “Is that clear?”

There was a quiet moment between them. One only filled with the suffocating tension from Tony’s imposition.

Steve honestly didn’t know how to respond. Not at first. Not on instinct.

“That won’t need to happen,” he finally said, his voice too reserved for his own liking.

“Look me in the eye,” Tony demanded, the lines on his face tight. “He comes first. Is that clear?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak.

Nothing came out.

The silence only grew thicker, and the next inhale that lifted Steve's chest was a struggle. He stared at Tony, unable to break the hold the man had on his eyes. There was something about him that seemed different in that moment. Something as foreign as the magic he still couldn't wrap his head around.

It was the self-sacrificing, almost parental drive and commitment that he felt coming from Tony. It was the intrusive realization he'd been denying since the night the chameleon helmet had been stolen, finally ringing true to his ears.

Tony had changed. He'd come to accept that long ago — it wasn't as if they were both the same people they knew five years ago. But Tony's change was abrupt, not something he expected, not something he'd ever even considered. It was obvious the day he showed Peter off to the team.

Staring at him now, the flood of emotions pouring off from him — doubt, fear, panic, an unhindered compulsion to hurt those who had hurt his family — Steve came to realize those changes not only made him a different person...but a better one.

A handful of years ago, they once stood in a similar position. Steve insisting that Tony was nothing without his suit, that he knew men without such fancy armor worth ten of him. Tony stood next to him now, all but stripped of his technology, and eager to run head first into a battle they were unsure of. Ready to sacrifice himself for someone he felt was better than them all.

Steve decided, then and there, that he wouldn’t let that dedication go to waste.

“If it comes to that,” Steve preempted, “then yes.”

Identity Theft│ Chapter 16: Smoke and Mirrors

With each hit, Tony expected the next, anticipated them, and in the moments after they landed, he let his body relax. A blow smashed into his temple, rattling Tony’s head within his breaking helmet. He tried to escape, to wiggle out from under the man, his legs writhing desperately to get a grip on the floor.

Howard leaned back, panting breathlessly. “You resent your father for how he raised you, yet you couldn’t even protect a young boy from dangers you put him in. His death is on you, Stark.”

Tony took the moment and ran with it. With a grunt, he kneed the man between his legs, a painful cry showcasing his achievement. Tony gave one hefty smack across the side of his head and Dmitri toppled over, his appearance flickering on and off. He phased between multiple different people as the light-show filled the otherwise empty hallway.

Tony jumped up and dashed forward. He launched himself on top of Dmitri, planting him face-first onto the floor. His body-weight pinned him to the ground, his knees digging into his back to keep him still.

“You may be good at fighting, but you’re a damn horrible liar.” Tony smacked his head against the ground, holding it there. “Now I really don’t like asking things twice. Where. Is. He!?”

The helmet was shutting down. Tony could tell it had already been exposed to too much damage, the flickering lights bouncing off the billion nanites that ceased to function.

Dmitri’s eyes slid up to look at him.

“I’ll tell you when you’re dead,” he sneered.

WHAM!

A stern blow to his head, one after the other. Tony didn’t let up, using strength only emotion could fuel, chips of his metal suit flying from his knuckles. He beat the man relentlessly, beat him even as he damaged his own suit — his own form of protection — he didn’t let up.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!WHAM!

“Dead so you can take my money, right!?” Tony threw his arm back, punching again. “You did all this so you could take my money, you took my kid for my money — you fucking psychopath!”

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. A blaze of rage shredded his restraint, a ballistic force unleashed and out of his control. It seemed like an hour, it seemed like a lifetime that he kept hitting and hitting and hitting and —

His knuckles were bleeding. The nanites spread around him like glitter, broken pieces of magnets shredded and discarded. Only when he physically lost his strength, his body tapping him out, did Tony stop.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 17: Grace Under Pressure

When the smeared blood took a curve into an open room, Tony half expected to be led down another hallway. He instead came to a startling halt at the entrance. To his surprise, the room was a dead end. It was just that — a room.

What caught his attention was the reflection of Captain America’s shield, the red and blue standing out from the dreary darkness around them. It was directed right at him, attached to Steve’s back, telling him that the man was facing forward. Tony squinted, realizing that Steve’s attention was clearly focused on something — or someone — important.

He stood frozen in the doorway, listening intently to the sounds from within. The voice was so quiet he almost didn’t catch it.

Almost.

“Stay with me, soldier,” Steve spoke softly, his tone more delicate than Tony had ever heard it before. “Easy now, I got you, son.”

Tony furrowed his brows. It was the only part of him that he could feel move, his nerves paralyzing the rest of his muscles. But he knew couldn’t have stood there long; Steve’s instincts kicked in quickly, his head turning over his shoulder when his presence was noticed.

He never said anything. It was probably for the best, Tony wasn’t sure if he would have heard him to begin with. Not over the pounding of his heartbeat, the blood rushing through his ears. Steve moved, just ever so slightly that both their flashlights gave sight to —

“Peter.” Tony’s breath lodged in his chest.

The kid was slumped forward, only held upright by the metal straps around his arms — Tony balked, they had him bolted against the wall. He was too far away to see if Peter’s eyes were open or not. It was too dark to see if he was even breathing, the intrusive thought making his stomach churn.

But he was there. No mind tricks, no sick psycho taking on his identity, it was him — his Peter.

His kid.

Tony was already across the room before he realized he was moving. Vaguely, he heard Steve say something, the intensity in his tone telling him he should listen. He couldn’t. His focus didn’t steer away, his eyes locked ahead, soaking in the sight like he hadn’t seen Peter in two years, not the two days it had been.

His knees hit the floor with a resounding smack.

“Hey, hey…” Tony breathed out. A sense of endearment he didn’t know was possible laced his tone. He suddenly understood why Cap had sounded the way that he did.

With what he saw in front of him, it almost felt natural to speak in such a way. He didn’t fight it, he didn’t push it away, and he’d deal with that startling thought at a later time.

The kid looked so...fragile. It was impossible not to speak with such delicacy, as if their voices could shatter him. His young age only intensified the sight of his broken frame.

Peter didn’t flinch, not at his words or Steve’s.

Unsure if he should touch him, Tony’s hands hovered over his body.

“I got you. I gotcha,” he chuckled, the laugh almost sounding hysterical. “We got you.”

Identity Theft│ Chapter 19: When the Bad Things Happen

Tony could have sworn his heart would burst out of his throat. His fragile, weak, shrapnel damaged heart.

Goddamn this kid.

He wasn’t sure how much time he had wasted standing uselessly in the doorway, unsure of where to go and if he should even walk inside. The room was packed and clustered with machinery, bustling with working staff and along the way, four-hundred-some square feet shrunk dramatically in the chaos.

Peter seemed to be center of it all, laying flat on his back, motionless in the hospital bed up against the far left wall.

It wasn’t until a nurse kindly walked him in that he finally moved. He barely muttered thanks, too busy staring at where Peter laid, a vortex of spiraling emotions sweeping him away.

Relief, horror, guilt, shame, fear, anxiety — and somehow none of it mattered. Once he was there, once he got close to Peter, he didn’t want to be a breath away. Not ever again.

He was alive. The kid was alive, and he didn’t even care that he needed to rely on the beeping machinery to tell him that. The blazing flames of a burning warehouse had been drowned out by the ocean’s salty waters and washed them ashore — damaged, beaten but alive.

He’d cling to that as long as he could.

Tony shifted weight on his feet and grimaced. Tubes, catheters, wires — Peter was surrounded by a warehouse of medical supplies. A very baggy gown barely covered him, hanging loosely from his shoulders, more like a blanket than an act of modesty. A thin sheet covered his waist but left his one leg exposed, something Tony adamantly refused to look at because he simply did not have that kind of strength right now. The glimmer of a metal rod was enough to make his stomach churn. His face wasn’t faring much better, a tube snaking down his throat and up his nose, IV’s in his arms and even his chest.

Yet nothing bothered him nearly as much as the stillness.

Peter was always moving, always hyperactive and bouncing with an energy he couldn’t contain. Once Tony had watched the kid doze off in his workshop, and even then he was twitching restlessly. He was never sure if it was his age, the spider-bite or both combined. Whatever it was, it was Peter. Bouncing, jumping, jittery and twitching — he never sat still.

Seeing him so still, so motionless — Tony hated it. Peter looked as if he were only a shell of himself, no color to his face and no warmth to his body. Tony swallowed convulsively against the rising bile in his throat. This was too much.

He had thought that his panic developed more into a slow burn, a languid torture that he could handle. He was wrong.

Tony’s hand dropped from the bed’s plastic railing, resting uneasily on the firm mattress beneath him. He hadn’t meant for his hand to fall on Peter’s, his fingers brushing up against the IVs and wires that protruded from underneath the sheets. He also didn’t move it away.

“You’re good, kid,” Tony muttered quietly.

It wasn’t naive to say as much. Healing factor or not, the kid had the strength of a thousand warriors, strong-willed beyond his expectations. If Peter could have that kind of resolve, so could he. If that meant doing everything in his power to get him better, that was what Tony would do.

“You’re stronger than all of us put together.”

The beeping of machines filled the air, some constant and some further apart. It practically drowned out his voice, already a whisper under his breath. Protectiveness rumbled in his chest and his sight locked onto Peter, unable to look away, unable to want to look away.

His shoulders were stiff and his neck tense, and he never paid mind to his fingers slipping underneath Peter’s palm, lightly gripping his hand in a loose hold. He never paid attention as his thumb grazed back and forth over Peter’s knuckles, distantly remembering the comfort it would bring him when his mother did the same thing.

“You’re good.”

Tony didn’t notice that Helen let him stay an extra eight minutes.

He did notice that Peter’s fingers twitched under his touch.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 20: Family Ties

He didn’t have anything to say in return. While May had returned her focus on Peter, she could still see as Tony closed his eyes, letting them rest that way. One may think he had fallen asleep, but she knew better.

She knew he was hiding.

It was something she noticed early on with Tony. It was an attempt to keep her from seeing the flurry of emotion that always passed through him, a rush of humanity almost always hid behind some fancy pair of sunglasses he insisted on wearing, the gatekeeper to his true self. He never showed his emotions by talking, instead it was his actions. Always do, never say.

He stayed quiet, occupied with his own thoughts, but his eyes would speak more than his mouth ever could. His actions always showed his concern; he would pace the floors, repeatedly check Peter’s medical charts, go as far as to make sure the hospital bills were covered, and was always persistent on getting updates from the doctors.

But this was the longest they had spoken since she arrived at the compound, going on three days. Even then, the conversation was mostly one-sided on her part. It was like a self-defense move, as if not talking would keep him in place — in check, from getting any closer to her and Peter.

May held back a laugh. The only problem with that was Tony had gotten himself knee-deep into that pool already.

Maybe he didn’t realize that yet.

Maybe he had trouble accepting it.

She caressed Peter’s hand. For a while, the quietness returned. Never peaceful, just a lull from their voices.

“You know, my husband used to have this look in his eyes whenever he was with Peter,” May said, the words heavy on her tongue. “It was unique, something I had never seen in him or...or anyone else before. It was like..I don't know, it’s hard to explain. It was like no matter what, Ben wanted to be there. For all the good parts, for all the bad parts. He wanted to teach him everything he knew and hope he could guide Peter from making the same mistakes he had made before. It was like...he knew he wasn’t Peter’s dad and he never wanted to try and replace Richard, but at the same time...he still wanted to be a father-figure for him. He didn’t want Peter to go without that in his life.”

May let out a heavy breath, and with it she turned to look at Tony. “I see a lot of that in you.”

Tony averted his gaze.

May didn’t need to see him to know how he felt.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 21: Sins of the Father

The air is crisp and cool. Refreshing. Tony takes in a deep breath of it, his shoulders sagging with relaxation.

The smell of salt water is strong, drafts of wind hitting his face with no sign of letting up. It’s his favorite aspect of the Malibu mansion. The evenings provide solitude, moments where only whispering waves of the ocean could be heard, water crashing and beating unforgivably against the mountain rocks.

His home. Looking out from his bedroom windows, he releases a lungful of air, and his eyelids close shut, giving way to a small smile on his face. Nothing could ever take away the tranquility of his home.

“Mr’...Stark...I...I don’t...”

His eyes snap open.

Peter lays heavy in his arms, beaten and broken. Bleeding. The blood is everywhere, coating his hands, staining his skin. He grips Peter’s body tighter, pulling him closer, hugging him with nauseating despair.

Over the sound of ocean waves, he hears the wheezing, the struggle — a crackly, heartbreaking whine.

“I don’t feel so good.” Peter’s voice is barely a whimper, drifting away in the wind. An exhale of air escapes the boy’s chest and Tony waits for a returning breath.

It never comes.

The smell of the open sea no longer brings him peace. The horror swells inside of him, eats away at his bones, the sulfur and ocean-life now nothing but a repulsive taste in his mouth.

CRASH!

Tony shields the motionless body with his own, bracing himself for the impact. Windows break around him, the glass mansion shattering with the intensity of the wind. He waits to be swept away, to feel the never-ending tide hit his body like knives, freezing and paralyzing. He waits for the outpour of the ocean that never comes.

“Tony, Tony, Tony…”

His eyes locked intently on the man kneeling in front of him. He’s no longer kneeling, he’s sitting. He’s paralyzed. He can’t move, crippled to the sofa. His heart withers away with fear, decaying from the ruins of panic that steal his breath.

Obadiah shakes his head, scoffing. “Look at you.”

The man’s voice is gruff, breathy against his skin. Too close, too close for comfort, his nerves screaming danger. The weather from outside the mansion roars, winds howling, lightning blazing and thunder rolling. He’s helpless to its wrath, paralyzed in place.

“It’s a shame, you know.” Obadiah moves closer, leaving little space between the two of them. His hand lays against Tony’s chest.“I spent thirty years of my life holding you up, at your side, guiding you through the tundra of a dog eat dog world that you would never have survived without me.”

The lights from above shine brightly onto his bald head; successions of flashing lightning obscure his face. Tony’s mind hollers to get up, to run, run-danger-run-run—

Obadiah squeezes his face, hard. His other hand claws at Tony’s chest, fingers digging for a hole that no longer exists. Tony shudders at those familiar, sadistic blue eyes staring him down, the need to scream burgeoning.

“Thirty years, Tony. You barely gave that boy one, and look at what it did to him.”

His face is held tightly in Obadiah’s grasp, cheeks aching at the pressure. His eyes wander freely. They lock on the corner of the room, the shadow of a mangled body barely seen. The lightning illuminates red and blue, the suit — his creation, Peter’s livelihood — laying in a crumbled mess.

“You finally outdid yourself,” Obadiah belittles. “Did you really think that you could right your wrongs...just like that? Take a child under your wing and sing the praises of unearned, undeserved redemption? He was better off without you, Tony. Your influence is only poison, you containment and kill everything you touch. That’s why we worked better in weapons manufacturing. That’s why you’re a —”

“You’re a failure.”

His eyes look back.

Stane is gone.

His limbs move freely, no longer held down by his former business partner, someone who he once considered to be a mentor. The storm comes to a sudden stop, leaving only darkness in its wake.

And Howard Stark.

They stare at each other.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 22: Sweet Sixteen

Tony leaned forward against the wet metal railings, feeling the dampness sink into his wrinkled AC/DC t-shirt.

“It is what it is. He’ll have to deal.”

Pepper huffed a sigh. “Tony, you’re being—”

“He almost died!” Tony shot up stiff as a board, facing her head on and he forced himself to dry swallow in an attempt to rid himself of the painful lump forming in his throat. “He almost died, Pep. I held him in my arms as he...”

A shiver rippled through his core and Tony had to look away, trying to focus on anything but the echoes of haunting memories that crudely invaded his mind. The smell of musty grass, the humidity in the air, the drizzle of rain — anything but the pleas, the cries and the screams.

Tony sniffed, swiping his thumb over his nose. “People like Dmitri won’t be able to hurt him if I stay out of his life. If it means I need to cut all ties to keep him safe, you can be damn well sure that’s what I plan on doing.”

Bringing the thermos to his mouth, he let the coffee scorch his throat as he drank gulp after gulp, desperate to settle his nerves. He was barely getting by telling himself things would get easier, better, that he’d go back to how things were before and then it wouldn’t be so difficult anymore.

Right now, it was the only thought that kept him together, like glue to a broken vase. If he couldn’t protect the kid at arms reach, it’d have to be done at a mile’s distance. Right now, he just wanted Peter to be safe.

That apparently couldn’t happen as long as he was around.

They’d deal with it. Eventually.

“You know,” Pepper visibly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You once told me that you wanted your legacy to be about more than just weapons and technology.”

Tony didn’t break his stare, eyes locked straight ahead. “Your point?”

Pepper stared at him, her eyebrow high in the air. It took a moment for things to click, to finally register what she was implying. The moment it hit him, Tony spun on his heels with comically large, wide eyes.

“Him?” His voice squeaked at the absurdity of the implication. “Pepper, he’s —”

She immediately held a hand in the air. “Wait a minute, hold on—”

“He’s got an aunt, he’s got his own life, he —”

“Hold on, you are jumping way ahead of things.” Pepper sighed. “Like you usually do.”

“Hey!” He pointed a finger her way. “I take offense to that.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Tony. Hear me out.”

“I always hear you out,” he insisted.

She cocked her head to the side. “Do you now?”

“I do.” Tony puffed out his chest and straightened his posture. “You don’t give me enough credit.”

Pepper stared him straight on. “So you’re not nervously rambling like a buffoon —”

“Not at all.”

“Because I brought up the slightest possibility of Peter taking on a bigger role in your life —”

Tony shook his head. “No clue what you’re talking about.”

“Similar to that of...I don’t know, a son?”

“He’s not my son,” Tony finally snapped, his voice dangerously low. “Okay? He’s not. He’s just some kid, some brat who got in way over his head and is, quite frankly, lucky that I came along to keep an eye on his scrawny pubescent ass.”

Pepper squinted suspiciously at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” she repeated.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 23: Bridge Over Troubled Water

If the injection of medicine did indeed bother him, Peter didn’t let it show. The entire time Bruce emptied the contents of the syringe through his IV, Peter stayed staring straight ahead, occasionally blinking and smacking his chapped lips.

“... whoa ...”

The effects were immediate, more-so than any other drug they had given the kid.

“Taste...funny,” Peter managed to mumble, his words thick and slurred. “Like...coconut.”

Every muscle in his body visibly loosened, one by one until he started drifting forward, to the point where Tony had to tighten his grip and keep him steady. Both him and Bruce gently pushed him back against the pillows of the bed, comfortably arranging his limbs for him.

And as Peter sagged into the comfort of the mattress, all tension drained from his muscles, Tony sagged in relief with him. The adrenaline surge left his body all at once.

He lifted a brow, waiting expectantly. “Feeling better?”

Peter wearily nodded, his lashes fluttering with little attempt to keep his eyes open. Each movement of his became slower until eventually, he found himself leaning to the side, his shoulder resting heavily against Tony’s chest.

“There ya go, that’s it.” Helplessly, Tony found the corners of his mouth curling upward, and without a second thought he tangled his fingers into Peter’s sweat-dampened hair. The kid’s head lolled into his chest like a rag-doll, and it was only then Tony realized this was the closest he had been to Peter since…

It became quiet. The few nurses still in the room preoccupied themselves with their assigned tasks and the machinery surrounding them drastically quieted down, no longer the angry beasts they once were.

At that moment, everything seemed to melt away, as if the sounds and sights surrounding him ceased to exist. Words darted away from him, and as everyone else stopped talking, he found it unnecessary to converse himself. He focused on the gentle rise and fall of Peter’s chest, the soft breathing that escaped from his mouth, the peace that encompassed his face.

‘He’s okay.’ Fingers carded through Peter’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp without even realizing it. His heart fluttered in a soft beat as the kid fell lax. It was, without any doubt, the most calm he had seen from the kid in days.

It was easily the best thing he had seen in weeks.

His wandering fingers untangled from the soft, brown curls down to Peter’s cheek, the back of his hand stroking his relaxed facial features. With it, he brushed away the drying tears that smeared across his skin.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 25: Grounds for Improvement

It happened quickly; one cry tearing off into two, choking off into more. Though the doors to the hospital room were shut by automatic nature, the sounds easily leaked out into the hallway. Managing to slip through glass and drywall and drifting away from the seclusion of just the two of them.

Tony had still been looking at his phone’s text messages when he heard it.

By knee-jerk reaction he began to walk away; his head down low, dodging the corners only by habit.

This wasn’t a moment for him to bear witness to. It felt private. Intensely private.

Tony wasn’t oblivious; he could see the anxiety riddling Peter, the distant look in his eyes and the small muscle in his chin working — quivering. The tension had been palpable, and after all the kid had gone through, he certainly deserved a break-down or two. Or six.

It was no surprise he waited for the comfort of his aunt until he had one.

An ember of jealousy ignited in Tony's chest at the odd desire to have been there instead. It wasn’t his place or his time. He said it once before and he’d say it again — they weren’t there yet.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 25: Grounds for Improvement

Stark Expo 2010.

That had to make the kid, what? Tony did the math, coming to the age of eight.

The little Peter he stared at was eight years old. Half the kid's lifetime ago.

Tony ran his finger along the photograph, the gloss lost due to age and the edges bent with the bottom corner torn.

Looking at it, and something more tugged at his memory.

He laid the photos out, letting the piece of notebook paper sit to the side. The photos seemed to be kept together as a set, all taken of this one family trip. The young kid wearing cheap Iron Man merch, hoodie and fingerless gloves with the toy helmet too big for his head — Tony realized it was Peter.

He picked up the photo. ‘Wow, kid was scrawny back then.’

Tony pursed his lips, humming. The thought ate away at him, the memory on the tip of his tongue. There was more to this, there had to be. It wasn’t that the Parker’s had gone to a Stark Expo — though he, of course, wished it hadn’t been that Stark Expo.

So much had happened that year with nearly dying, nearly losing both Pepper and Rhodey in his life, dealing with SHIELD using Natasha to spy on him — nearly dying, that served to be mentioned twice. For a fleeting moment, he almost gave up — sure that he wouldn’t be able to recall such a tiny detail in the mass of events that had occurred.

Tony leaned back in his chair, defeated, and sighing to let the universe know as much.

God, what a shitshow of a night. His head fell back and he stared up at the ceiling, recalling the disastrous monstrosity that was Stark Expo 2010. Those damn Hammer drones sent out to target Iron Man; they were lucky no one else managed to get seriously hurt in that cluster fu —

“Nice work, kid.”

Tony shot forward in the chair.

The photograph of Peter laid on-top of the scattered prints, with Iron Man helmet barely fitting his small head.

“Huh,” he found himself saying aloud, staring at the picture with unblinking eyes.

It was an minuscule moment in time, surely stored away only because his problems nearly got a child killed. Tony knew that he’d never put the two-and-two together had it not been for those photos, telling him a story he hadn’t realized he needed to hear.

The scrap piece of notebook paper called out to him. Tony snatched it a bit too hastily, suddenly needing to know what it said.

It was folded three times in and Tony had to shake it flat once opened. His eyes scanned the cursive handwriting, all the while ignoring the way his heart beat heavily in his chest.

Tony,

One way or another, you’ve always been in his life. The only difference now is you have a chance to make that count.

I trust you’ll do the right thing.

May Parker.

His eyes darted from the note to the stack of photos behind it. Tony slowly relaxed in his chair, never tearing his eyes from either of the two.

Recalling that memory was like watching another life rip open before him at the seams, a time where he only lived to feed his ego and feed it well. He realized, back then, that he was allowing his pride to dominate; coddling it as a mechanism of self-protection. It was nothing more than allowing weakness to masquerade as strength.

The photo surprised him, shaking loose latent feelings he hadn’t realized were even there. A paternal aspiration everyone had made clear to him but he had so adamantly denied.

Here Tony was, trying to determine how to best structure the boundary of his relationship with Peter and meanwhile, it had already been created for him.

'A fierce commitment.' Tony could feel his lips pursing to the side. There wouldn't be any running away, there wouldn't be any digging his head into the sand — not when a line had already been scratched out in that sand, reclaimed by the shifting tides of the events they'd suffered through.

The choice was already made for him, years ago. He just never knew it.

‘Fine,’ Tony thought, smacking his lips and folding his arms over his chest. ‘Time to regroup, then.’

He could still negative this. He could still make this work.

Besides, back in the base, he would have done anything for a second chance — a breath of opportunity to start again. To give Peter everything he needed, the whole world, the life he deserved.

The photos provided a new outlook, a window where he had originally thought there was a wall. Tony saw that he had the power to be the architect to his own life, to build reality to the desires he always wanted.

He had that now.

What was he to do with it?

Tony cracked a smile.

Whatever it was, whatever it required, he was ready for what came next.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 26: Building Blocks

Even as he went on to explain the finer details of their rescue mission, the room lacked any tension. It helped greatly that Peter wasn’t immune to the pure star-struck wonderment at hearing Tony’s stories, listening intently to how they had increased the tensile strength on his web fluid, how a magical wizard got them in and out of the place, and most of all —

“You finished the nano-suit!?” he exclaimed, nearly jumping out of bed with excitement. “Can I see it!?”

“Sorry, bud.” Tony gave a small shake of his head, his finger lazily pointing down to Peter’s leg. “It’s on you.”

Peter frowned, looking down at his leg before back up at Tony. “What?”

“What was left of it — used it for that sock you’re wearing,” Tony explained. “It’s a nanite cast, designed to promote bone healing. I’m sure Bruce will be thrilled to show you the x-rays of how mangled your leg was. He said it was in eight pieces or something, shattered like a stale piece of peanut brittle.”

Peter didn’t seem to be paying attention. As Tony rambled on, he removed the blanket that covered his leg to better stare at the thick black and silver device that he wore around his calf. It was every sense of the word futuristic, conforming around his leg from the knee down, fitting snugly like his suit. If he stared at it long enough, he could see lights run up the length of the sleeve every so often.

“No way,” Peter lamented, looking over at Tony sadly. “But you put so much work into that!”

Despite Peter’s protest and remorse for the forsaken project, Tony couldn’t muster up a will to care.

“Well, you’re more important,” he answered honestly. “Besides, I can make another suit. I can’t make another Peter Parker.”

Tony hadn’t meant to create a moment between them, the words having slipped out before he realized what he was saying. Peter stared at him, at first confused and slightly startled, before he slowly let himself relax and smile.

It was a look so warm, Tony was sure it could melt even the coldest of hearts. While he couldn’t take the words back, he quickly realized that he didn’t even want to. He tried to remember the photos he had sitting in his workshop, to remember that as uncomfortable as the emotion felt, that he wanted this.

And besides, Peter didn’t seem to be fighting it. Kid was glowing brighter than the sun.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 27: Growing Pains

Despite his encouragement, Peter remained dejected. “You were right, though. The moment I mess up and it’s ‘ Spider-Man: Thwarted by local street magician.’ So stupid.”

“Yeah, well...” Tony popped his lips, shrugging. “What do they know?”

Peter scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“No, seriously, what do they know?” Tony asked again, piquing Peter’s interest. He finally looked up from his hands, frowning, completely puzzled. Tony met his gaze head-on. “Tomorrow’s issue isn’t going to be about Spider-Man taking down a psychopathic Russian spy in an underwater facility, all with two broken wrists, hypothermia, a concussion—”

Peter blushed with embarrassment. “Okay, I—I get it—”

“A shattered leg, a gaping hole in his stomach and back,” Tony went on, ignoring his protest. “And you still managed to knock that Bond wannabe flat on his ass. Don’t let some outdated, old fart of a journalist who’s a couple years away from retiring and starting a podcast get under your skin.”

Peter gave a soft, wobbly laugh that brought on the inkling of a smile. With it, the tension seemed to thin just enough that Tony felt comfortable leaning forward, resting a firm open palm on Peter’s shoulder.

“For every ten good things Iron Man does, there has to be fifty that the press doesn’t talk about. They will always pick and chose what the public wants to hear. That doesn’t discredit your doing, kiddo. You know in your heart what you’re doing is right.” Tony’s voice dropped a little, quieter but no less sincere. “And if I’ve been hard on you lately about that, well...I really have no excuse. I just want you to be safe.”

Peter nodded, letting his smile widen a tad bit more. The feel of Tony’s thumb stroking over the curve of his shoulder was grounding, comfortable. It reminded him a lot of the same feeling he’d get when he wore his suit — protection, safety.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony patted his shoulder before leaning to the side in his chair, grabbing his coffee cup from next to him.

“Always thanking me, and I never know what for.”

Peter gave an easy smile and shrugged, a swell of warmth and gratitude replacing the butterflies of anxiety in his chest.

“For being here.”

Tony looked up from his coffee cup and gave him a wink, all charm, no bite. Any worry he had about his off-handed comment from before faded away with it, and Peter grinned as he picked his phone back up, though he was too distracted to really use it.

He stared down at the device, flipping it around, caught up in his own thoughts. He almost felt silly for having panicked earlier over what he’d say. It was just that he and Mr. Stark always had an odd relationship, never really defined, always bouncing between ‘he helps me do my superhero-ing and keeps me in line’ to ‘he’s like my mentor and teaches me all these cool things’.

But that had changed lately, since Homecoming, since he broke-in-but-not-really-broke-in to the Avengers facility. He wasn’t exactly sure what this was now, what they had become. He didn’t care either way. He liked it.

Uncle Ben would always tell him to try and find the positives out of any situation he was faced with.

Peter smiled — he was pretty sure he just found one.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 29: Breaking the Cycle of Shame

“I’m going to answer your question in the simplest terms possible and I ask that in return you keep the rising level of emotions to barely above average, capisce?” Tony crossed his arms and tilted his chin low, tired eyes meeting Peter’s.

Peter nodded a little too fast, rapt with eagerness.

Tony hesitated, taking a moment to reel himself back in. He was dangerously close to backing out, coming up with some pathetic excuse that he was sure Peter would buy in a heartbeat. But it wouldn’t do him any good, he had to remind himself of that.

This whole thing he felt going on — the ever-incessant ‘more than mentorship’ deal everyone called him out on — it was a two-way street. If he wanted to be better than Howard, he needed to put himself out there. He needed to be better than his own father if he had a shot at this.

It wouldn’t come easily. But then again, nothing good ever did.

It was that realization that pushed Tony forward, breaking through the walls he had built for himself, if only a smidgen.

“Growing up, my dad didn’t give me a lot of support. He was cold. He was calculating. Never told me he loved me, never even told me he liked me.” Tony took a deep breath in, his chest visibly rising. “What I’m trying to say here, kid, is that I don’t have the best first-hand experience with this sort of- stuff. Christ, the world’s lucky Pepper doesn’t even want children, can you imagine how badly I’d screw up a child?”

Peter smiled so softly, with such a gentle glow that Tony almost felt bad for dumping a load of pessimism on him.

“I think you’d make a great dad, Mr. Stark,” he said, the happy lift in his tone enough to break through even the iciest of hearts.

Tony smiled in a way he wasn’t initially sure he had been capable of doing. The kid was too pure for his own good, He couldn’t help the burning blaspheme at thanking whatever higher being was out there protecting that innocence.

Even with weeks building a gap between believing the kid was dead and holding him alive in his arms, Tony’s gratitude hadn’t diminished. He still felt the same, immense indebtedness that Peter was getting a second chance at things. That they were getting a second chance at things.

All and all, he still felt like it was a miracle to be here, in the now, with Peter by his side. He hoped to never lose that feeling.

“You’re a great kid, Pete. And not just because you’ve decided to run around New York a skin-tight suit putting yourself in harm’s way every chance you can get.” Tony cleared his throat, working to rid the raw emotion that laced his words. “So seeing as I’m not good with the whole touchy-feely sort of dialogue happening here, I’m going to say this once and you better listen good because I can’t promise I’ll ever repeat it. You’re...well, I’ll just say it. You’re like a son to me. I don’t ever want to entertain the idea of losing you again, not because it’ll be heavy on my conscience, but because you have a lot to offer this world and in the grand scheme of things, you’ve barely begun.”

Peter stared at Tony for a long time, at a loss for what to say. The understanding seemed to crash into him in waves, each staggering in a series of what had been the past year and a half. Germany, Toomes, Homecoming night, frequent internship visits, the Chameleon helmet, the burning building, the undersea base, Dmitri...each event began to stack on top of the other, building into something completely new.

He had always felt like Mr. Stark had been the anchor to his otherwise turbulent super-hero life. He had just never expected that side of him to transition into other aspects. Personal aspects.

And just like that, Peter’s throat began to tighten once he realized how much that truly meant to him.

“I...I don’t know what to...”

“Don’t. C’mon, learn to feel the room, you’ll ruin the moment.” Tony waved his hand, motioning for him to come closer. “Just bring it in before I regret this.”

Peter didn’t have much say in the interaction. Tony had already wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him in tightly, so close that Peter could rest his chin against the crook of the man’s neck.

His embrace was warm, albeit surprising. Peter’s eyes widened enough that he worried they might pop right out of his sockets. And though he relished at the contact, he did little other than lay a hand gently against Tony’s back to reciprocate. Part of him couldn’t tell if this was real or not. In his defense, the last time he assumed they were hugging, Mr. Stark was just trying to open the door for him.

When the touch wasn’t grounding enough for him, the scent was. It was hard not to notice the smell of his cologne, different from the usual musky, smokey scents he found most older men wore. Mr. Stark smelt light, fresh, reminding him a lot of the familiar smell he often encountered while recovering in the infirmary.

It made him feel safe. It occurred to him a beat later why that was.

Just when his muscles began to loosen, allowing him to fully enjoy the moment —

“Mr. Stark, this isn’t…this isn’t a hug, is it?” he joked, resisting a smirk. “I thought we weren’t there yet?”

The words were delivered with such intense sincerity that it took Tony a few seconds to even register them. When he did, he pulled away abruptly, his face stern even once being greeted with Peter’s million dollar smile.

“See what you just did there? That was ruining it. Never do that again.” Tony waved him an open palm. “Proud of yourself?”

Peter laughed.

Tony warmed up to a smile.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 29: Breaking the Cycle of Shame

“Wait! Hold up, hold on!” Peter swivels around, running back towards them both, gripping his cue-cards tightly. “I forgot something!”

Tony gaped, gesturing ahead. “Peter, they’re about to call your name, you need to — ompfh!”

The weight of a muscular sixteen-year-old teenager smacks into him, his breath nearly knocked out of his chest before he can finish. With eyes comically wide, Tony stumbles back, Peter’s arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

“Love ya, dad.” A huge grin spreads across Peter’s face, his head tucked deep in the crook of Tony’s neck.

“Love you too, son.” Tony returned the gesture with a squeeze that may have been twice as enthusiastic as Peter’s. He only pulls away once the announcer calls Peter by name, going to pat him on the back before ushering him away.

Peter nods quickly, giving Pepper a toothy smile before turning his back on them both.

The red velvet curtains begins to draw upwards, inching towards the high ceilings with a whir that could barely be heard over the announcer’s voice booming from the surround sound. As soon as he stopped speaking, the crowd began to clap, a harsh echo of their greeting bouncing off the walls of the large concert hall.

With his shoulders pulled back tight and his hands nervously rubbing together, Peter spares Tony one more look, his grin brighter than the lights that began to flood in from the auditorium stage. His grin spoke it all— the audience could be a million strong and Peter would only ever care about one person’s opinion, only ever care about his number one fan.

Tony could feel his heart soar out of his chest from that look, overflowing with pride.

The stage lights seep in as the curtains pull up, casting an overwhelming bright halo where Peter stood. It eclipses around him, highlights him as he begins to walk on stage until eventually, Tony can see nothing but white.

He opened his eyes to the same.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice seemed distant, but her hand was firm on his shoulder, grounding him to reality. “Tony, are you okay?”

Tony blinked, his every thought in high definition, his mind seemingly caught between then and now. The crisp white colors to his bed-sheets filled his vision, his eyes slowly coming into focus until eventually he could see even the finer crinkles from his own pillowcase.

The overhead lights to their bedroom were bright from above, harsh in comparison to the gently rising orange sun coming from the room’s window. Pepper’s warm body was settled next to his, a weight that dipped the mattress low.

“Hey...” she softly said, leaning further into his vision. “Another nightmare?”

Tony shook his head, his mouth dry, slacked open. His heart beat fast in his chest despite never having been jolted awake, never having woken up with a scream or a shout.

He slowly managed to sit up from his resting position on his side, the goosebumps that traveled up his arms razor sharp.

“No. It was...” Tony shook his head, his hand running down the length of his face. “I had a dream.”

There was a heavy silence that fell between them, the rhythm of Pepper sweeping her hand across his arm the only indicator that time still existed. The fluorescent lights from above began to dim away, allowing the sunrise from outside to cast a golden ray of copper hues into the room, bringing with it a brand new day.

He took a shallow breath in as she stared at him, exhorted him silently, softly and without any words.

“We had a kid,” Tony explained, swallowing hard. “It felt so real.”

[tovarishch-dyke]

its a shame that most of leftist discourse on the internet (and irl in some cases) has completely devolved into petty arguments, mass harassment campaigns and senseless petty identity politics

like stfu we have bigger fish to fry than calling out someone about something extremely vague and taken out of context things from five years ago. I understand that you are hurt and you want justice, but doxxing, hacking, stalking, and harassing someone from your community isn’t the path you want to take. Maybe focus that anger at the fucking nazis who want us dead.