“Oh shit, out of webs”
So I’m rewatching Iron Man 3, and I forgot about the part where Tony just asks Rhodey for his login info for a secure government database… and Rhodey just straight up gives it to him???
Rhodey argues a little bit and says “I have to change [my password] every time you hack in,” but tells it to him a few seconds later anyway.
Like… we all know that Tony is the guy who hacks into everything (”the pentagon in high school on a dare”), but we also know that Rhodey is supposed to be the “good one” of the two of them. He’s supposed to be the rule follower, the military guy, the one who follows authority figures.
But he’s not.
Sure he follows orders on the outside, but he also knows that to do what’s right, what will help people, you can’t always follow orders.
He literally gives his best friend (a tech billionaire) the login information for secret government databases. This is something that could be extremely dangerous. It’s something that he would only give to his best friend, to the man he’s known for decades, the the man he knows will use it for good. Because anyone else, anyone who isn’t Tony Stark, would abuse that power.
And how many times has he given this to Tony? He says “every time” like he’s done it more than a handful of times. It sounds more like dozens. And what other government databases has Rhodey given Tony his login info to?
I just needed to talk about this because I think Rhodey and Tony’s friendship is often put on the backburner because of Tony’s friendships Bruce and Steve. Don’t get me wrong, I like Tony’s friendships with them, but He’s been friends with Rhodey for much longer and it needs to be talked about more.
also, the fact that tony “i hacked the pentagon on a dare at 15” stark actually asks his best friend for his login details instead of asking jarvis to hack him and get the info needed. he gives zero fucks about decorum when it comes to hacking hammer or shield but rhodey is off limits because he respect his bff and his boundaries.
In my opinion the key to understanding how to play Sherlock Holmes’ character is to understand that his asshole energy is actually pretty low. This is a common mistake made by many great actors. His asshole energy is no higher than the common mans. What he does have is nearly LETHAL levels of bitch energy. Whichever neuron in the brain that senses when the bitch levels are too high and sends out the anti bitch hormone Holmes was born without. Like you’re right Sherlock should never just be played as a nice guy but his abrasive and off-putting behaviors are due to bitch energy not asshole energy. It’s a subtle difference but a vital one. Don’t fight me guys I know a scientist
This shouldn’t make any sense but it does, in fact, make perfect sense.
Advice from the moon
It all started when they were seven. When a kid at least twice Peter’s size pushed him into a puddle and ruined his new jacked. He couldn’t see clearly who came to his rescue, because his glasses had fallen off his nose, but in the blurriness he could see a figure not much bigger than himself, pushing the other boy away and yelling at him.
His name was Harry Osborn, and they became instant best friends.
Harry came to Peter’s home almost every day after that, and Peter loved it. He didn’t have any other friends at the school, so he welcomed every friendly face with a beaming smile and as much kindness as he could muster.
Meeting Harry was Peter’s rescue after losing his parents, and he clung to that with all he had. Some days, when Harry showed up at school with a bruise or a cut he didn’t want to talk about, it was like he clung back with everything he was.
They were inseparable best friends until high school. Then came the hormones, and bodies changed along with minds and feelings.
The first time they kissed it wasn’t like fireworks and sparkles shot out of Peter’s chest. It was something clicking into place. Something he somehow knew was right.
They didn’t tell anyone about it. Kept it as a secret for them to share. After all, nothing really changed. They still cuddled up in Peter’s bed to watch movies, and they still told terrible jokes and laughed so hard they couldn’t breathe.
Harry was practically living with the Parker family at that point. He never talked about what happened in his own home, but Peter wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t eight anymore. He knew where the bruises came from.
It became Peter’s new meaning in life. To make sure Harry always knew how loved he was, and that he always had a place with the Parkers.
The spider bite happened, and none of them knew what to do. Harry stayed by Peter’s side when he went through three days of hell, and he did not complain when, on the fourth day, Peter woke up with a body he definitely didn’t have before.
They kept that a secret too. Something more for only them to share.
When Ben died, and Peter tried to blame himself, Harry was still there by his side, clutching his hand. They dried each other’s tears for a long time after that, but Peter had never felt so loved as he did wrapped in Harry’s warm embrace, feeling his heartbeat under his fingertips and hearing his steady, grounding breathing against his cheek.
Everything changed when Peter became Spider-Man. Crime didn’t stop for anybody, and suddenly Peter and Harry didn’t have as much time together as they used to.
Harry’s father took that as an opportunity to show his son who really was the boss in the Osborn family. Peter wanted to hunt the man down himself, but even as the masked vigilante, he couldn’t just swing around and punch people without evidence. And Harry was still not talking about it.
Drugs became Harry’s new rescue, then. When Peter was out saving everyone else, his boyfriend was drowning in his own bedroom.
It only went downhill from there. Harry couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop, and nothing Peter said or did would make him change his mind.
Peter left, the first time Harry tried to hit him. He knew, rationally, that it wasn’t his Harry. Not really. But Peter had tried to help him for years at that point, and every day, a little more of Harry withered away.
Peter couldn’t sit by anymore and watch as the love of his life disappeared inch by inch, and was replaced with his own father with every pill.
It all ended fifteen years after it began. It ended with a phone call at three in the morning on a Wednesday.
Harry couldn’t take it anymore.
Peter had never felt so alone.
Please, don’t leave me again.
Morning glow - Starker
And the one time Peter was there
Peter should not have butterflies fluttering in his stomach as the personalized ping for Tony goes off on his phone. It’s wrong. Horrendous, really. The man is a freaking billionaire, he doesn’t need a pining, struggling college student ogling him at every chance. Peter doesn’t even know how this happened.
He did so well, resenting the man’s very existence, after that first meeting when the man showed up and expected him to follow him around and take orders. Peter’s good at that. (Not liking people, that is. He’s terrible at taking orders. Ask anyone.)
And then, somehow, somewhere between serving ridiculously expensive alcohol and having spontaneous dinners in the middle of the week, things changed. And Peter doesn’t know how to deal with this.
He doesn’t do feelings. He doesn’t have time for it. There’s not enough hours in the week for crying over the stress that is his senior year at ESU, scolding purse nappers on the streets in tights, flirting with old ladies for money and ripping his own hair out for having unwanted feelings for a man he can never get.
Tony doesn’t even like dudes. He thinks. He’s not a hundred percent sure, but he’s never seen or heard any gossip about it, and he never mentioned it. It’s hopeless. A catastrophe.
But Peter is nothing if not determined. And it’s not exactly the first time he’s come across a problem he doesn’t know how to solve. So he does what any desperate, sleep deprived college superhero would do. He asks google for help.
- Allow yourself the indulgence of being hung up on them (for a while) …
- Write them a letter (don’t send it) …
- Stop giving them so much attention. …
- Double check that you haven’t got too much time on your hands. …
- Figure out what was so captivating/attractive about the person.
Should be easy, right? Right. Peter’s going to get all over that list. Once he’s checked Tony’s message. Totally.
Hey, Pete. You wanna come to the tower and watch a movie?
Okay, so Peter’s all over that list after he’s checked out the tower. It’s not every day he gets a chance to explore the tallest and most impressive building in New York, after all.
Do I get a tour?
Of course. I’ll even take you down to the labs if you want.
Awesome! I’ll be over in an hour
Can’t wait! :*
Peter locks his phone before he’s able to think too much about that emoji at the end. It’s just Tony being Tony, it’s fine. He throws the phone on the coffee table and starts stripping instead. He needs a shower anyway.
A cold shower. A really cold, refreshing shower.
The tower is out of this world, and everything about it is so typically Tony, it’s kind of ridiculous. Peter loves it. It’s nothing like what he’d pick out for himself, but it’s clean and flawless and beautiful.
Tony is looking like a god where he’s standing by the receptionist, leaning against the desk with his hands in his pockets, wearing a Metallica shirt and faded jeans. Even the casual wear and posture is putting Peter’s entire existence to shame. It makes Peter wonder yet again what the hell Tony is using that big brain of his for, if he thinks he has anything to do in the poor college student’s life.
“Pete! You’re here!” Of course. I got an invitation to see the massive building I admire from the sky every day, on the inside. I’d be an idiot to turn it down, Peter wants to say.
“Nowhere else I’d rather be, handsome.” Is what comes out of his mouth, and he immediately slaps his own mouth, cursing himself in every direction in seven different languages. You couldn’t pick a better time to have maintenance on your brain-to-mouth filter, huh?
Tony just laughs at him, and it’s probably meant to tease and tell Peter it’s no big deal. What it does is heat his cheeks up worse than when Johnny decided to grab his face with burning hands during the last snow storm.
This is a disaster. He thinks, resigned, and figures he can always blame it on the famous Parker luck when he inevitably messes up again.
It doesn’t go too bad, after that. Peter stumbles over his feet a couple of times, and has to purposely almost walk into a wall to check if his spidey-sense is still online. He drops a steaming cup of coffee all over Tony’s newest project while they’re touring the world famous lab, and his hands are shaking so bad he can’t even clean it up properly.
At least Tony gets to laugh, which is a good thing. Even if Peter has to embarrass himself enough for three lifetimes to make it happen. The only thing that’s whirring in his brain when the godly sound rumbles from the other man’s perfect lips is fuck, that’s hot and I did that. He can worry about it all later. When he’s home in his bed and can hide under his own pillow mountain for the next week.
They’re standing in a large kitchen, talking about something dumm-e did last week, when the elevator doors ding open and Peter’s spidey-sense is pressing daggers into his skull. At least they’re working.
Peter works on instinct and places himself between the unknown threat and Tony before the person has even entered the room.
It’s Steve Rogers. The magnificent, exiled asshole who left his best friend for dead. Peter looks over his shoulder and can see Tony tense when he sees the former Avenger.
“Is he supposed to be here?” Peter asks, because isn’t he on the run from 117 nations or something?
“Yeah, they were pardoned a few days ago, but they have to stay here.” Peter hums, and crosses his arms over his chest, looking the newcomer up and down where he’s stopped at the entrance.
“Stark! It’s good to see you. Who’s the kid?” Peter raises an eyebrow and huffs. This isn’t really his fight, a rational part of his brain tries to scream, but it’s muffled by the other part yelling with every nerve ending that this asshole left Tony to die!
“Wish I could say the same, Rogers. Did you want something?”
“Can we talk? Alone? I’ve been looking for you for days.” Steve looks rather innocent where he stands, rubbing the back of his neck and sporting a pair of huge, blue puppy eyes. No wonder Tony fell into his trap. Peter sure would have, if it wasn’t for the pulsing electricity at the base of his neck telling him to protect. (Which is new, by the way. Usually it goes something like get the fuck away. Peter’s going to think and prod about that later, though. When the asshole with kind, blue eyes is dealt with.)
Tony takes a hesitant step forward, still standing behind Peter, but he has his hands in his pockets and looks kind of bored. The anxiety is flaring off him, though, sending spikes in Peter’s direction, only adding to the increasing scream that tells him to protect this man at all costs.
“Geez, I wonder why.” He says, and shrugs his shoulders casually. Peter wants to roll his eyes at the whole thing. Tony is clearly not as relaxed as he looks, and obviously has been avoiding the blond super jerk.
“Hey, son. It’s okay, you can go home.” Peter huffs and squares his shoulders.
“Sorry. I’m not your son. I don’t know you at all, really, so you don’t get to give me orders. I’m here for a movie night, and you’re kind of disrupting that.” He wiggles his fingers in Steve’s direction, and the man’s face does some weird thing. It looks like he bit down on a lemon while watching something impressive on the tv at the same time.
“Hey, Pete. How about you go pick out a movie, and I’ll be with you in about 5 minutes, yeah?” Peter has no idea how he’s supposed to do that, but Tony’s hand on his shoulder is warm and calm and he looks at Peter with such fondness that Peter can’t really do anything but nod.
Friday guides him away to something that looks suspiciously like a bedroom. It’s huge, and the bed in the middle is the size of three or four of Peter’s own. He finds a couch and sinks into it, letting out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding in.
The problem, with sitting alone in a bedroom at his crush’s place, is that it gives him time to think. And he really doesn’t want to do that. Maybe that’s because he already knows the answers to the never ending loop of what is going on?! That’s running on repeat in his head. You’re falling in love, dumbass. The real issue is that he can’t for the life of him figure out why. But it doesn’t matter. Not now. Tony is facing one of his best friends, who left him to die, alone, and the energy in that room was not good. Peter shouldn’t have left.
So Peter heads back. The least he can do for Tony is be backup if he should need it. Peter kind of owes him, anyway, for the disasters he’s put the man through lately.
Peter walks in on Steve aiming a fist at Tony’s golden mask, and before he’s even able to fully take in everything, he’s grabbing Steve by the collar of his shirt and yanking him back so hard he hits the wall behind them. Ouch.
“I wasn’t even gone for that long. You’re like toddlers. What the hell?” Tony’s mask peels off his face in one fluent move (awesome, holy shit) and tries for a chuckle. It gets out a little wrong, and sounds like a mix of a whimper and a hysteric laugh. Peter doesn’t blame him really.
He doesn’t know what happend, and he shouldn’t pick sides, but something deep, and feral and animalistic is vibrating in his entire body and he’s back in his defensive pose between the other men, glaring at Steve with a look that has to be screaming mine.
“This isn’t your fight, son. Stay back.” Steve grumbles as he gets out from the wall. (Peter would totally offer to pay for that, if the owner of that wall wasn’t multi-billionaire Tony Stark.)
“You wanna bet on that, big guy? You try coming any closer and you’ll end up on the sidewalk.” Steve stops, thank god. It’s not that Peter wouldn’t do it, but they’re like 80 floors up, and Steve isn’t invisible.
“We’ll talk later, Stark.” He points at Tony, and then looks Peter up and down with a wariness that has Peter’s skin crawling all over again.
When Steve is out of sight, and Peter’s senses have calmed down enough for him to focus on the distinctive heartbeat behind him, he turns around, mouth open and ready to apologise for both the wall, the intrusion and a whole lot of other stuff he can’t really think of at the moment.
What does happen is a pair of warm, calloused hands cupping his face and deep, brown eyes staring at him like he just saved the fucking world. “I could kiss you right now. Thank you!"
Somewhere deep in Peter’s big brain, he knows it’s a joke. It has to be. There’s no way Tony meant that. So he blames it on adrenaline when he answers way too quickly "I’m not gonna stop ya."
Maybe Tony is pumped up on adrenaline too, because their lips smash together in an instant, and it’s wet, and desperate and hungry and Peter wants it to last forever.
This is a weird day, he thinks as he flutters his eyes closed and grips Tony’s hips and yanks him towards himself. Screw the list that’s still up on his computer, screw every negative outcome when everything calms down. He’s going to enjoy this. For as long as he can. And it doesn’t feel like Tony has any plans of letting go of Peter’s face any time soon.
I’m never drawing an iron man suit again. That shit is ridiculously detailed. Holy crap.