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#in the heart of the empire there is the middle class and people celebrating christmas with their families
wedreamerz · 4 years
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Roll You In Sugar
Follow Up to Buttons
Written for @mcukinkbingo 
Square Filled: SugarBaby/Daddy 
Pairing: Tony/Peter. (Peter is 18+)
Rating: E
Warnings: None
Tags: Daddy/Sugar Baby, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Smut, Fluff
“Good night, Daddies,” I blew a sleepy kiss to my guests before turning off the camera.  It was a good show.  The guests had been encouraging, their comments just enough to tip me other the edge.  But I was disappointed when youknowwhoIam was mostly silent through the show.  He’d thanked me at the end but other than that, he’d been quiet.
I fell back onto my bed, surrounded by discarded clothes and dildos, hoping he hadn’t been disappointed with my performance.  A little chime sounded on my laptop, indicating a notification had come through.  I stretched a groaned, not wanting to move, but curious, a little hopeful.
<youknowwhoIam> private: You’re stunning, Sweetheart. Where are you? Let me take you to dinner? Let me spoil you like you deserve.
~~~~~~~~~~
He wore a mask, black lace that obscured his features but did nothing to hide his beauty.  I was hard, leaking and throbbing with need but I didn’t touch myself.  This performance wasn’t for me, despite his cheeky Iron Man underoos.
The others talked to him, shouted commands.  I couldn’t bring myself to speak.  I wanted to whisper in his ear.  I wanted to hear him moan when I touch him, open his tight little ass on my fingers.  He deserved flesh, flowers, kisses, and silk - not those cheap nylon stockings that clung to his firm, pale thighs.  I wanted to put him in the finest. And I wanted him all to myself.
Chest flushed, cock so hard in his fist, he came so pretty.  I watched, breathless and aching when he let go, little nose scrunched, mouth open and ready for me to fill it.
God… did I want to fill it.
 ~~~~~~~~~
My heart raced.  He wanted to meet me...like... actually meet me.  I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t meet a complete stranger I’d barely spoken to.
Could I?
<Underoos> private: How do I know you’re not a serial killer?
<youknowwhoIam> private: I’m not.
<Underoos> private: But how do I know?
<youknowwhoIam> private: I’ll prove it. Turn on your camera.
<Underoos> private: Why?
<youknowwhoIam> private Trust me, Sweetheart. All I wanna do is show you something.
I bit my lip, butterflies at war in my stomach.  I was still naked and for a moment I considered staying that way.  He’d already seen me come. But outside of the show, it felt strange, a little too exposed.  So, I pulled on my Iron Man hoodie and zipped it up before turning on the camera.
The window popped up as usual. And I saw that youknowwhoIam was the only one in the chat.  In the next moment, my screen flickered, and another window popped up, a black screen that scrolled with code for just a second before it lit up, revealing someone’s chest.
The software didn’t work this way.  I couldn’t see any of the guests, only chat with them.
“What the…” I whispered.
A large hand covered the camera lens, distorting the screen for just a moment before it pulled away and…
My stomach dropped down to my knees.
“T-Tony Stark?”
~~~~~~~~~~
The boy had a point. I could be anyone.  But I wasn’t.  And the fastest way through that argument was revealing my identity.  I had no qualms about it.  I wanted him to know me, know who I was and what I wanted.
Friday hacked the system and with a quick adjustment to the camera, I got to watch that beautiful face light up with excitement and awe.
“T-Tony Stark?” he said, eyes wide.
“See, I told you, not a serial killer,” I said with a smirk, leaning back against the headboard.
“H- how did you…right...you’re Tony Stark. Of course, you hacked my computer.”
“Not yours. Your company’s. Just a little piggybacking off of their cam feature.”
He smiled at that, genuine and so fucking sweet.  He shook his head and shrugged.  “Why?”
“Because I want you to take me seriously. I want to take you to dinner."
He looked into the camera, bit his lip.  "But why me?" he asked with a frown. "I'm just a broke college student trying to make a little money camming."
"Let's just say I don't like to share. I want you all to myself. Just dinner. No obligations. No strings. I'll fly wherever you are. And if you never want to see me again, so be it."
"I… I'm…"
He was looking for an excuse to say no.  But he wanted to say yes; I could see it in his eyes.
"Come on, Sweetheart… what do you have to lose?" I said softly, careful not to swing his pendulum in the opposite direction.  "Tell you what, let's just start at the beginning. What's your name?"
He glanced to the side at something off-camera - a door maybe? Was he alone? Did he have a boyfriend? I didn't care. He drew a breath and seemed to come to some kind of decision.
"Peter. Peter Parker."
~~~~~~~~~~
He sent a limo.  A long, black stretch limo.  A week after Tony fucking Stark hijacked my webcam, it pulled up in front of my apartment, standing out like the sorest of thumbs.
I had been waiting on the stoop, hoping May wouldn't notice.  I hurried forward as a tall, kind of cranky looking man got out of the driver's seat and met me on the sidewalk.
"Peter Parker?" he asked, eyeing the row of apartments with only a touch of distrust.
"Um, yes."  I gulped and shoved my hands in the pockets of my only good dress pants.
"Great. The Boss asked me to tell you he's sorry he couldn't be here to pick you up. He'll meet you at the restaurant. My name is Mr. Hogan. I'll be your driver tonight."
He opened the door for me, and I stepped back, second- no, fourth guessing this decision.  What was I doing? I had no business meeting a client.
But it's Tony Stark, that thirsty voice in the back of my mind piped up.  The one that had been there when I'd jerked off to the countless posters, magazines and leaked bootleg, cellphone porn videos.  He was my celebrity crush, my goal.  I wanted to be like him: genius, superhero, philanthropist.  He made a difference.
But it's Tony Stark, that other voice spoke up, the one who never failed to notice the articles about the people he'd been spotted with.
"Come on, kid. Boss isn't gonna wait forever," Mr. Hogan said, nodding at the open car door.
"Right, uh, sorry," I said as I climbed in.  
It was quiet inside, warm and cozy in contrast to the February chill.  The only coat I owned looked horrible with the grey dress pants and a blue dress shirt I'd chosen.  So, I'd ditched the coat and topped the outfit with the soft grey sweater May had gotten me last Christmas.
I didn't know where we were going or even if what I was wearing was appropriate.  I mean, Mr. Stark was used to the best, the finest.  I looked down at my pants, already wrinkled, and frowned.
This was a huge mistake.
~~~~~~~~~~
I'd done my research. 
Peter Parker had graduated high school early and was at the top of his class, in his third year at Empire State University where he majored in Biophysics and minored in journalism.  He was a photographer and had had several of his photos featured in The Daily Bugle just this year alone.
I couldn't help but be impressed.  Not only was Peter the most beautiful creature on the planet, he was a fucking genius.  But what made my boy truly fascinating was what he got up to in his spare time. And I'm not talking about camming. Imagine my surprise when I learned that my boy had a secret identity that had nothing to do with Underoos.
When the limo pulled up to the restaurant, I smiled and sauntered out from under the awning.  I waved Happy away and he waved back in acknowledgment as I opened Peter's door.
He looked up at me, all wide-eyed and fresh-faced, like a fucking princess ready for the ball.  His cheeks were flushed, lips bitten pink.
“Mr. Parker?" I said and extended my hand.
"Mr. Stark."
He smiled; a tiny thing that grew until his eyes lit with pleasure.  His hand in mine wasn't something I was prepared for, the warmth, the want of never letting it go. Neither was his cheeky grin.
He looked up at the restaurant I'd chosen and chuckled.  "Not quite what I was expecting," he said.
I eyed the little brick building and nodded.  "It's my favorite Italian joint in Queens. They have the best -"
"Chicken parm, I know," he said.  "We order from here all the time."
"Good. Unless you'd rather go somewhere else? Uptown? I have a jet; I could take you for real Italian food."
"Oh, no no no… I'm not complaining. I love this place. I just assumed…"
"That I'd take you to some big fancy Manhattan hot spot?"
Peter nodded and looked down at his shoes.
"Would you have been comfortable there?" I asked, gently turning him, tipping his chin so that he met my gaze. "Meeting me for the first time in the middle of that chaos?"
"No," Peter admitted.
"That's why I chose here," I said, not admitting to hacking his google account, looking through his Yelp reviews.  "I wanted you to feel comfortable."
"Thank you. I... I was a little intimidated. I mean…"
"I know, Sweetheart. But you shouldn't be. You're young, sure. But I did my homework. You're brilliant.  Come on. They're holding a table for us in the back."
~~~~~~~
Hand on the small of my back, he guided me inside.  I melted, literally leaned into his warmth. I'd known he was beautiful and witty.  But to have the full force of Tony Stark's undivided attention, to be swimming in that warm espresso gaze - it was more intoxicating than any amount of attention I could ever receive from the men in the chat. 
I'd expected wooing, amusing anecdotes from his trip to Japan or the last Avenger's mission.  But he continued to surprise me.
"So, tell me about your classes," he said after we had ordered.
"Oh, um… I'm studying Biophysics. But you probably already know that," I said.
"I know what you're studying and that you're top of your class. But I'd like to know what your plans are. What do you plan to do with your degrees?"
"I'm not really sure yet. I guess, whatever I do, I just want to make a difference," I said.  "I want to do something to help people."
He listened.  He didn't once look at his phone. He didn't interrupt me and seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. Which was more than I could say for most guys my age.  But then guys my age never did interest me.
Dinner flew by so fast.  When the waiter brought the check to the table, I focused on the slice of chocolate cheesecake we were sharing. I'd reluctantly agreed to dinner and now that it was over, I couldn't help but want more.
~~~~~~~~~~
The limo was waiting, a toasty warm refuge in the flurry of flakes falling from the sky.  He'd agreed to dinner and fulfilled his promise, but I didn't want him to go.
Peter shivered and I frowned, noticing that he wasn't wearing a coat.  I stepped closer and smiled. 
"Thank you for coming to dinner," I said softly and stroked his cheek, not missing the way he leaned into my touch.
I wanted to push him into the limo, pull him to my arms - into my bed.  I wanted so much more from Peter Parker than a one-night stand.  I wasn't a jealous man.  Morally, I had no issue with the way Peter made money.  But the thought of the men in the chatroom watching Peter in his most intimate moments made me want to break things and I knew I'd never be able to handle it.
I wanted Peter all to myself.
"I had a good time," he said with a smile so sweet it made my teeth ache.
"Don't you have a coat?" I asked and he looked down, cheeks pink from more than the cold.
"It didn't look good with my outfit," he mumbled.  I pushed down the possessive urge to wrap my arms around him and instead took my coat off and set it over his shoulders.  It was too big, but he snuggled into the warmth with a grin.
"But now you're cold," he said.
I tipped up his chin.  He didn't resist.
"Then come keep me warm," I said.  "Come home with me, Peter."  I held my breath, expecting an argument or excuses.
But Peter didn't pull away.  He smiled and stepped closer.
"I'd like that."
~~~~~~~~~~
"Come here, Sweetheart," Tony purred and patted his knee.  I'd never wanted to be anywhere more and moved into his lap without hesitation.
He ran his hands up my thighs and chest, then cupped my face.
"You're so beautiful," he said.  "And smart. Peter, I'm so amazed by your mind and impressed with your tenacity and kindness. You should be proud of everything you've accomplished."
I loved the way he made me feel, all melty and out of my head.  On camera, I was in control. In my day-to-day, I had to be very aware of my schedule, budget, and time management.  But in Tony's arms, for the first time in I couldn't remember how long, I felt like I could let go.  
Tony Stark thinks I'm amazing. I couldn't help but wonder what he would think if he knew that I had yet another secret identity.  That I was the vigilante crime fighter for the people The Bugle had been going on about recently.
He rubbed his thumb over my lips, gently pressed between them when I opened for him.
"So fucking pretty," he breathed.  "Can I kiss you, Sweetheart?"
I nodded, expecting him to swoop in for the kill. Instead, he slowly moved his hands down my back, cupped my ass and yanked me closer.  He was hot, already hard, and smelled like a fucking dream.
I closed my eyes and moaned when he bent, not to my lips, but my neck.  He nibbled up the length, pausing to bite and suck at my earlobe before tracing my jaw with his tongue.  I tipped my head back and revelled in the attention.  He took his time. nibbling and sucking his way to my lips.  When he finally got there, finally took my mouth, I was ready to give him everything.
Demanding, luscious, his kiss was all-consuming.  I let him take control, bent to his will until I was panting and rolling my hips, desperate for friction.  He pulled back with a pop and then sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make me moan.  He pressed soft kisses to my lips and then across my face.
I whined when he grasped my hips, slowing my movements.
"Slow down, little Spider," he whispered.  "I want to see you come apart in my bed."
It took a moment for his words to sink in, moving through the chemical cocktail in which my brain was swimming.
I gasped.  Eyes wide, I met his gaze, suddenly shaking.
"Shhh, it's okay. Yes, I know your secret. But it just makes me want you more."  He stroked my back, soothed my fears.  "You're so amazing, Peter Parker. Let me show you how much. Let me spoil you. Let me ease your way."
~~~~~~~~~~
Peter tensed as the reality of my words sunk in.  Yes, I knew he was Spiderman.  Friday had found out while doing a facial recognition on the boy.  A security camera had caught a few seconds of his face as he dipped down an alley to change.  When Spiderman emerged a few moments later I put it all together.
"You're so amazing, Peter Parker. Let me show you how much. Let me spoil you. Let me ease your way."
"M-Mr. Stark...I--"
I had to be cautious.  Peter was proud. And he should be. I didn't want him to think I was trying to take anything away from what he'd done on his own.
"I want you, Peter," I said softly, stroking through his curls.  "Forgive me for prying -- it's what I do. But everything about you is a fucking wonder.  Everything I learn just makes me want you more. But Sweetheart, I don't think I can share you."
Peter frowned, pouting just a little bit. My stomach clenched.
"What do you mean?"
"Watching you online...Jesus, you're fucking beautiful.  Those men don't deserve you. Peter, I... when I say I want you -- I want you all to myself. I can't… I don't think I can handle sharing you like that."
Peter looked me in the eye and shook his head.  "But I... that's how I support myself."
"Let me."
Peter shook his head and frowned. "Let you what?"
"Let me support you. Let me give you everything you need. Everything you deserve-"
"Mr. Stark, I'm not...I can't… I'm not gonna be some Sugar Baby. I work hard for-"
"Peter, just listen to my proposal, okay? Just listen to me. And if you never want to see me again, I'll have Happy drop you off at home."
"Happy?"
"The bearded man in the driver's seat."
Peter huffed a laugh.  "Ironic. I like it. Okay, go ahead," he said after a moment's consideration.  I thought it was a good sign that he didn't pull away or move from my lap.
"You're brilliant, Peter. And investing in your future would not just benefit you. I have to look out for me, too. And to that end, I need bright young minds like you in my camp. I want to offer you a full ride to your current or dream school of your choice. You study, spend your time being brilliant, graduate and then come work for me. I'd be an idiot not to snap you up before my competition gets wind of your accomplishments."
"But I still need to live. And Mr. Stark, you just met me. How can you even be sure that you'll want to continue seeing me?"
"You're right. I know, shit happens. There are no guarantees that you'll want to continue seeing me either. I mean, I snore sometimes and I can't fucking cook to save my life."
Peter giggled at my joke and I smiled. I wanted to pull him into my arms, but I knew I had more work to do if I was going to seal this deal.
"That's what contracts are for, Sweetheart. We negotiate, each party gets what they need, and we both go home happy. Or even better, we go to bed happy."
Peter bit his lip and looked at where my hands rested on his thighs.
"All this because you don't like to share?" he said softly.
"All this because I see so much potential in you. I want to encourage you; I want you to see that you deserve more than what you're settling for right now. You've done an amazing job. I am only offering to make it easier for you to achieve your goals."
Peter smiled and finally met my gaze.  "And the fact that you wouldn't have to share me with the men in the chat room?"
"Consider it a bonus," I shrugged.  “Besides, you’re fucking Spiderman.  Imagine the things we could do together.”
Peter laughed and kissed me, soft and sweet and so fucking delicious.  Then he scrambled out my lap and crawled over to the minibar.  He grabbed a handful full of napkins and then climbed back into my lap.
"Do you have a pen?" he asked.
As we made our way out of Queens and headed toward the tower, Peter and I engaged in the fine art of negotiation.
~~~~~~~~~~
We left a trail of scribbled up napkins and clothes from the door to Tony's bed.  Specifically, my clothes.  He'd stripped me bare while he remained fully clothed in the most beautiful suit I'd ever seen - charcoal with a pale silver shirt and lavender striped tie.
Tony pushed me gently onto the bed and stood up with a playful smirk.
"Be a good boy," he said.  "And watch."
I bit my lip as he slowly removed his jacket, breathless with anticipation.
"Per Article 2, Subsection 1 of our agreement, I'm now basically your Sugar Daddy. And I get to roll you sugar as often as I desire."
"I don't think that's how it's worded."
"Hmmm, but that's the spirit of the agreement."
Tony winked and moved over to his dresser.  "In fact. I'd like to start right now."
I sat up, my feet barely touched the plush carpet as I perched on the edge of his bed, curious.
"I loved your outfit the other night," he said.  "But my Baby gets only the best."
He handed me a flat, black box with a silver ribbon around the middle.  I slid off he ribbon and squirmed with excitement.  He'd bought me something before we'd even come to an agreement.  I wasn't used to relying on someone else to buy me things.  Sure, the Daddies on the chatroom bought me sex toys and underwear off my wish list.  But none of those gifts had ever been given with such an expensive brand name on the box.  It thrilled and terrified me at the same time.
My cheeks warmed; the flush spread down my neck as I opened the box to find a pair of real silk stockings.  They were black with a row of tiny, silver spiders around the thigh.
"Daddy," I breathed, stroking the fabric.  My body responded as I imagined how they would feel against my skin.  I'd never owned a thing so fine and delicate.
"May I put them on you?" he asked.
"But… I don't want to rip them," I answered, looking up to Tony's eyes.
He smirked and cupped my cheek.  "Baby, if you rip them, I'll buy you another pair."
I bit back a gasp.  Tony chuckled as he devoured me with his eyes, watched as I hardened from just his words. 
”Lie back," he said.
I did as he asked, heart beating wildly in my chest.
He took my foot in his warm hands, massaged strong fingers into the arch.  When I moaned with pleasure and closed my eyes, he murmured, "That's it, Baby, relax. Let me spoil you."
Tony pulled one stocking from the box and scrunched it around my toes.  He pulled it up, smoothed it up my thigh, and tugged the band into place.
"Exquisite," he said, stroking up and down my calves.
I peeked through lowered lids to watch him to the same with the other stocking and then press kisses up each of my legs.  I loved the warmth of his breath through the silk.
"Perfect. See the way they fit you? Like a second skin," Tony said, rubbing his lips just above the band.  "I only want the finest to touch your skin, Peter. And tomorrow, after class, we're going shopping."
I opened my mouth to argue but he pressed a finger to my lips.  "Indulge me, Sweetheart."
My cock throbbed.  The way he said even the most innocent of things made me wild, made me want to climb into his lap and please him.
"Okay, Daddy," I said, preening when he beamed at me.
"Good boy," he purred.
~~~~~~~~~~  
I wasn't prepared for the way those words made me feel.
"Okay, Daddy."
Peter had said them on the video, talking to the men.  And yeah it had been hot.  But this time… this time those words were all for me and it was as if he'd given me the keys to Disneyland.
"Come here, Baby," I said, pulling him to his feet.  "Show Daddy how you look."
Peter did a little turn, his cheeks on fire.
"You look so fucking pretty, Baby. You wanna show Daddy how much you like his gift?"
I was worried for a moment that I had taken it too far, that he'd be offended.  But he whined and nodded before falling to his knees.
"That's it, Baby," I crooned, running my fingers through his hair as he undid my belt and pants.
"Daddy," he whispered, almost to himself, when he pulled my cock free. I smiled.  He was so fucking adorable.
He wrapped his hand around my shaft and leaned forward to rub his lips over the tip. 
"You're so big," he said, breath warm against my skin.  
"You like it, Baby?" I asked.
He pressed a kiss to my frenulum and looked up at me with the most mischievous expression before parting his lips and taking me between them.  He took me slowly down his throat and for a moment I couldn't breathe.
Peter closed his eyes and shuddered, pulled back with a little gasp.  He smiled and looked up into my eyes.
"Fucking amazing," I whispered.  He squirmed and smiled at the praise, nibbling little kisses up my shaft and around the head.  He licked around the tip, little pink tongue flicking and teasing until I thought I might come like that.
"Fuck, Baby. Come here, I'm gonna come if you keep that up and I don't wanna come in your mouth this time."
He whined and pulled off my dick with a salacious pop.  I wiped his chin and patted his cheek before pulling him to his feet.
I removed the rest of my clothes and sat down on the bed, scooting back to lean against the headboard.  Peter scrambled into my lap as soon as I held out my hand.
"Condoms?" he asked, and I smiled.
"Good boy," I said and rummaged in my bedside table for the box and tube of lube.  I handed them to Peter, and he smirked as he set them aside within reach.
"Fancy," he commented, eyeing the brand names.
I shrugged and gathered him to my chest, trailed a finger down his spine. "I told you, Baby. Only the finest touches your skin," I whispered and continued down between his pert little cheeks.  "And that includes this sweet little pucker here."
Peter moaned, pushed back on my finger.
"Open me up, Tony," he murmured into my chest and stroked the sensitive skin around where the arc reactor had been.  
He had to know what he was doing, had to realize what he traced.  But he said nothing, only kissed the spot reverently and pushed back against my fingers again.
"Okay, Baby," I said and grabbed the lube.
Peter made the most delicious noises.  As I fingered him open, he whined and moaned, rocked his hips in a languid dance that left me breathless.  Our cocks brushed together with just enough friction to excite and tantalize but not tip us over the edge.
"M'ready, Daddy, please," Peter whispered, scooted back and reached for the box of condoms.
Watching Peter concentrate might be the cutest thing in the world - especially when he was concentrating on rolling a condom down my shaft.  He took his time, little pink tongue between his teeth as he drizzled lube down my length. 
Satisfied, he looked into my eyes and said, "How do you want me, Daddy?"
I pulled him closer, ran my hands over the swell of his ass, and squeezed.  "Just like this, Baby. Ride my cock."
Peter wrapped his arms around my neck and rose up on his knees.  He took me slowly, eyes never leaving mine.  I moaned as he quivered around me, desperate to thrust, take his tight little hole.  But I reined in my control and let him lead.
"Oh my God, you feel amazing," he breathed into my neck.
"So do you, Baby. Now please, for the love of all that is holy - move."
~~~~~~~~~~
Filled and enveloped, I lost track of where I ended, and he began.  Never had I been so consumed. The scent of his skin, the taste of his kiss - I took all of him into me in return.
"Daddy," I breathed.
"Don't chase it, Baby. Let it come to you."  
He bit my lip and thrust up into me.  I met him on the upstroke, sparks burst behind my eyes.
He caressed my silk-clad skin, hands skimming over my thighs, moving up to grip my hips.
"You look so fucking pretty in those stockings, Peter," Tony growled.  "I love the thought of you in pretty things, perfect, beautiful things.  Things that I buy just for you."
"Daddy," I cried out.  "Please." I needed...I needed everything, wanted all of him.  He reached between us and grasped my cock, gave it a squeeze that made the sparks return.
"So hard for Daddy. So ready to cum all over his new stockings."
"Yes."
"Yeah?" 
"Daddy!"
"Come for me," he whispered, lips on my ear, hand around my cock.  With a few firm strokes, I was there.  He pulled me down to take all of him as he grunted his release.
I looked down to find my cum on my belly and thighs, thick white streams soaking into the fabric, into the pale skin that showed through a few tears.  I shuddered and squirmed as Tony pulled another stream from my body before I collapsed against him, warm in the cocoon of his arms.
He pressed kisses to my temple and stroked my back as we caught our breath.  Still hard, Tony moved just a little, slowing sliding deeper inside.
Into the silence that followed, I whispered, "I ripped my stockings, Daddy."
Tony chuckled.  "It's okay, Baby. Daddy will get you a truckload of stockings. A pair for every single day."
I snuggled into his chest, rubbed my face into the soft hair, tracing the ridge of scar tissue with my tongue.  I was unprepared for how utterly cared for he made me feel.
"And I'll wear them only for you," I said, meaning it.  Why...how could I ever want anyone else?
Tony released a breath he seemed to have been holding.  I smiled, charmed by his little insecurities.
"Just you," I said again.
He kissed my forehead and rested his cheek against my head.  
"Just for you," he repeated my words. I knew them for what they were.
I giggled, sleepy now, light as a feather.  "You gotta. You signed a contract."
Tony huffed a laugh.  "Baby, I don't need a contract to hold me to that promise," I heard him say as I fell asleep in his arms.
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pinelife3 · 4 years
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Sleepless in Seattle
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I rewatched Sleepless in Seattle recently on a plane, and now I’ve crawled out of my cave to declare: this movie is not romantic!
Directed by Nora Ephron, Sleepless in Seattle, is regarded as part of the canon of great rom-coms. Ephron and Rob Reiner (who actually appears in Sleepless in Seattle with a great bit about tiramisu) are kind of the big-dogs of rom-coms in that people still talk about the films they made 20+ years ago (some together, some separately):
The Princess Bride
When Harry Met Sally
Sleepless in Seattle
You’ve Got Mail
Rom-coms are tricky to define - for example, is Shakespeare in Love a rom-com? There is romance and comedy, but the lovers are separated at the end. What about Top Gun? There are iconic romantic scenes and the lovers do end up together, but the love is really a conciliatory prize (the real prize is being the best at flying) and the romance is more of a B or C plot in the film, so Top Gun probably doesn’t qualify. People talk about rom-coms as having to posses certain tropes - for example:
A neurotic, highly mannered protagonist (ideally played by Meg Ryan or Hugh Grant)
An argument featuring dramatic irony, where the audience knows more than the characters and sees their misunderstanding unfold
A grand final gesture to win a lover back after a stupid misunderstanding: a last-minute dash to the airport, a last minute dash to a new year’s eve party, a last minute dash to the Empire State Building
But for our purposes, let’s say a rom-com is anything that:
Places the romantic plot at the core of its film AND
Has a happy ending (i.e. the lovers are together at the end) AND
Features genuine attempts at humour along the way. 
LOTR features a romance plot, but there’s a lot of other stuff going on (something about a ring?!), therefore it’s not a rom-com. Same deal with Bridesmaids. I would classify Superbad as a kind of rom-com because most actions taken by the protagonists are to secure love (or at least sex) from the girls they like. The English Patient? Romantic and HILARIOUS but the lovers aren’t together in the end.
So does Sleepless in Seattle qualify as a rom-com?
Yes, the whole point of the movie is to get Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks together. This plot dominates the film - but is it romantic? More on this to follow.
Yes, in the world of the film, a happy ending is secured because Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan are together
Yes, there are some laughs along the way. Mostly at the expense of poor Bill Pullman who is playing a man with severe allergies. There is also some precocious-child related humour
Back to point one: I contend that the ‘romantic plot’ in Sleepless in Seattle is actually anti-romantic. In fact, there are two romance plot lines (both of which fail to be romantic) because this bitch is engaged to another man throughout the ‘romance’ with Tom Hanks.
Before we get into that though I have another major gripe: at the start of the film, Meg Ryan and her fiancé (Bill Pullman) leave home together to drive to a family Christmas lunch. They leave the same location at the same time and are heading to the same location - no stops along the way. But for some reason they take separate cars. The film provides no reasoning for the separate cars. It is patently odd and really bothers me.
Let’s take a look at the script:
________________________________________________
EXT. BALTIMORE SUN BUILDING - LATE AFTERNOON - CHRISTMAS EVE
As Annie [Meg Ryan] comes out of the newspaper building with WALTER JACKSON [Bill Pullman], a tall, handsome man who wears a hat. They're carrying an armful of Christmas presents. They're walking toward the parking lot.
WALTER
The short one with black hair  is your cousin Irene --
ANNIE
-- who's married to --
WALTER
Harold, who ran away with his secretary but came back --
ANNIE
-- because Irene threatened to put the dog to sleep if he didn't --
WALTER
And your brother Tom is a psychology professor and is married to...Betsy --
ANNIE
-- who is the most competitive woman in the world --
They put the presents in the backs of their two cars and pull out together.
EXT. A HOUSE IN BALTIMORE SUBURBS - NIGHT
Christmas lights twinkling as the two cars pull up in front of a comfortable upper middle-class house and park their cars. They get out assembling presents.
________________________________________________
This whole thing with the two cars was scripted - and even in the script it’s unexplained. My suspicion is that this just a device to get her in the car alone later so she can hear Tom Hanks on the radio - and thereby fall in love with him. This is LAZY writing. Why not just write that she had a premonition and saw a wonderful widow in Seattle and knew that they should be together. That would make about as much sense as the separate cars.
People criticise rom-coms for having unrealistic premises. For example: Last Christmas, in which a woman hangs out with the ghost of a man who gave her his heart - via transplant - the previous year. A ridiculous premise made unbearably kitsch because of the connection to the WHAM song. But honestly that makes about as much sense as an engaged couple taking separate cars for no reason.
Allow that gaping goatse of a plot hole to set the scene for the other major problem with this film: our romantic heroine is already engaged. Engaged to a man she finds boring. She remains engaged to this poor guy throughout her infatuation and pursuit of Tom Hanks. She lives with this guy, sleeps with him, plans her wedding with him: all while she is falling in love with Tom Hanks. She remains engaged until the final 10 minutes of the film when she finally dumps him. She keeps telling this poor guy she loves him. It’s evil. Can you imagine what /r/relationships would say about someone who behaved this way? This is an emotional affair.
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As much as rom-coms celebrate the pursuit of love and marriage, they also caution against bad or inadequate love: it is not romantic to settle. A classic example of this is Charlotte Lucas in Pride & Prejudice: she marries the ridiculous Mr Collins to secure her future and avoid spinsterhood - but she doesn’t love him and won’t ever love him because she doesn’t respect him. Readers in Austen’s time may have been more sympathetic to Charlotte’s decision since the nature of marriage was quite different back then and spinsterhood was a seriously undesirable outcome, but contemporary audiences commonly interpret Charlotte settling for Mr Collins as a weakness of character. That decision and her life with Mr Collins only serve to reflect further radiance on Elizabeth Bennet: wistful, bitey, beautiful, beloved for centuries. That’s why no one writes fan fiction about Charlotte Lucas. 
So, in Sleepless in Seattle, the audience sees that Meg Ryan is settling for the wrong guy. This is communicated to us primarily through the visual gags around Bill Pullman’s allergies: he uses a huge number of tissues, he’s allergic to everything from strawberries to bees, he has a special respirator machine to help him sleep. This guy can’t get the girl! He can’t even breath properly. It’s clearly isn’t meant to work out between them. No, no this won’t do at all. 
What is the function of the unsuitable fiancé as a plot device? Why couldn’t this be a romance between two single people? Is it to make her cross-country pursuit seem more whimsical and fun? If it to demonstrate that she can get a guy? I actually think it’s meant to create stakes: it’s so she has something to hold her back from ‘following her heart’. This is a way of adding tension so she’s risking something (normalcy, comfort) by making the last minute dash to the Empire State Building to meet Hanks (who represents the possibility of windswept romance). Never mind that they’ve never actually spoken to each other. He’s a single parent? Um sexy! He’s a widow? Swoon. Seattle is rainy? I’m already wet.
If it’s important to the plot that she is already in a couple when she falls for Hanks, and that she casts aside an unsatisfying relationship for the mere possibility of passionate excitement, then we have had it wrong all along: the grand romantic gesture of Sleepless in Seattle is Meg Ryan dumping her fiancé. Forget the Empire State Building. It’s her telling him that she’s had an emotional affair. It’s her taking off her engagement ring. It’s her blaming him for being boring rather than working on their relationship. It’s her leaving him sat in that restaurant alone so she can go and pursue a stranger.  
This movie is not romantic. 
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religioused · 4 years
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Christmas: It is All About You?
Christmas: It’s About You?
by Gary Simpson
Luke 2:1-20 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.
6 And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
8 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
15 And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.
The narrative informs us that the emperor ordered that the entire world be taxed. In reality, it was not the entire world. In Greek, the word that is translated world means the “inhabited earth.” To the ancients living in the Roman Empire, this meant the “civilized world.”(1) Unfortunately, looking down on people who do not share your culture or your technology is not a new thing. Here, we see it dating back to the time of Jesus’ birth.
In some areas of the Roman Empire, a census might have been about knowing who would serve in the military. Because Jews were exempt from military service, the census was mainly for tax purposes.(2) Essentially, the first Christmas was brought to us by Revenue Canada or by the United States Internal Revenue Service. Now, if nothing else ruins your Christmas, that thought will.
The trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem taken by Joseph and Mary was about 80 miles or 130 kilometers. This was no mean trip. The trip is likely to have taken a few days, and Joseph and Mary probably brought all of the food they needed with them, because that is generally how people traveled in that era.(3) Because there was no room in a hotel, Jesus’ bed was a feeding trough, a manger.
To those who were expecting to hear a grand story about a royal baby, born in luxury, Luke’s Christmas narrative is probably already more than a little disappointing. Jesus’ bed is a feeding trough for the animals. But hang on. Things are getting stranger.
Shepherds were “despised” by good people of the time. There was no way shepherds could keep the ceremonial laws, such as hand-washing.(4) And it was too this group of Shepherds are invited to the stable to meet Jesus. And this is not an open Facebook event invitation that by mistake went out to everybody and the shepherds saw the event and decided to come. This was not an invitation on a fancy card. The striking invitation had a personal feel. An angel appears to the shepherds. The heavenly visitor comes down and personally invites the shepherds. The angel tells the shepherds that they will recognize the Messiah when they see a baby in a feeding trough. And the hosts of heaven sang. The shepherds visited Jesus and they tell everybody the story that an angel said Jesus was the Messiah and the shepherds leave praising God.
And the narrative tells us that Mary treasured what had taken place, but she was not sure what it meant.
Commentator and Greek scholar William Barclay refers to the Gospel of Luke as the “universal gospel.”(5) Nigerian priest and theologian Justin Ukpong also believes that Luke presents a universal salvation, a salvation for all people.(6) To put this in lay terms, Luke is the bigger picture Gospel. Ukpong holds that Luke was written to reach “middle-class” members of the Roman elite.(7) I disagree with Ukpong on that point. To me, the Gospel of Luke is for the average person and for those who are excluded and that can be seen in the first two chapters of the Gospel of Luke, because shepherds were invited. William Manson wrote the commentary on the Gospel of Luke for The Moffatt New Testament Commentary set. Manson notes that the shepherds are the “centre-piece” in this section of Luke. The inclusion of shepherds is significant for those living in the “Judean home of Christianity.”(8) Luke refers to Jesus as the savior, which shows that Jesus is going to make an “appeal to sick and suffering humanity.”(9) In some circles, I might refer to the Gospel of Luke as the Joe six-pack Gospel. In church, the double-double Tim Horton’s coffee Gospel might seem more appropriate. Here are a few of the reasons why I disagree with the Nigerian theologian. Luke is very inclusive, including Samaritans, Gentiles, and the impoverished, disreputable, outcasts, and sinners.(10) Luke pictures God as having a universal embrace.(11)
Christmas time is challenging for many people. There is an expectation that we will have the famous Normal Rockwell Christmas dinner. All of the food will be perfect. Everybody will get along wonderfully well. There will be no family conflict, no offensive and inappropriate jokes. The perfect Christmas gift is given to each person. And then reality hits. Our perfect Christmas dinner might feel more like we are eating with the Bucket family from the British sitcom “Keeping Up Appearances.” Hyacinth is bragging. Richard, Hyacinth’s husband, is trying to crawl under the carpet in embarrassment. And you are stuck sitting between Onslow, who is eating while wearing dirty pyjamas, and Rose, who is more interested in getting a date with a handsome man she met than talking to anybody.
In a few cases, the very people who we are hoping will treasure our accomplishments and who will build us up are putting us down. And we may be thinking, “For this I flew across the country!”
For most of us, I think our families are much better than the dysfunctional and rather unusual Bucket family from “Keeping Up Appearances.” Even with the disappointments, there is love to celebrate.
Now I am going to ruin your Norman Rockwell Christmas picture. Christmas is not about the amazing turkey dinner. The ham. The cider. The chocolates. The wine. Christmas is not even about family. And for God’s sake, Christmas is not about the gifts. With that last line, Christmas might be starting to feel less stressful.
This might sound like heresy, but Christmas is not really about the little baby in a manger, shepherds, wise men, and angels. Christmas is about God celebrating you. Think about that! Christmas is about God celebrating you by choosing to be close to you. God is celebrating your skills, your abilities, your traits, your personality, and your successes. Much more importantly, Christmas is about God celebrating you as though you have no traits that drive people crazy, no awkward behaviors, and absolutely no failures. At Christmas, God celebrates you, by living as the most humble, while treating you like the most royal. The incarnation of God in the baby Jesus is about you, but probably not quite the way you expected. Rather than ruin the ending, I am going to let you read the rest of the Gospel of Luke, the Gospel of Inclusion.
Notes
1) J. Vernon McGee. Thru the Bible With J. Vernon McGee. Kindle ed. (Pasadena, California: Thru the Bible Radio, 1998), ebook.
2) Daniel Patte, et al., eds. Global Bible Commentary. (Nashville, Abingdon Press, 2004), 389.
3) William Barclay. “William Barclay's Daily Study Bible: Luke 2.” n.d., 17 Oct 2019. Study Light. <https://www.studylight.org/commentaries/dsb/luke-2.html>.
4) Barclay. <https://www.studylight.org/commentaries/dsb/luke-2.html>.
5) William Barclay. The New Testament: A Translation. Vol. 1. (London: Collins, 1968), 123.
6) Daniel Patte, et al., eds. Global Bible Commentary. (Nashville, Abingdon Press, 2004), 389.
7) Daniel Patte, et al., (2004), 385.
8) William Manson. The Moffatt New Testament Commentary: The Gospel of Luke. Kindle ed. (Seattle: Source Digital Pub., 2018. Originally published in New York by Harper and Brothers Pub., 1930), ebook.
9) Manson. (2018, originally published 1930), ebook.
10) Barclay. (1968), 123.
11) Barclay. (1968), 124.
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riverdamien · 4 years
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From Darkness to Light
A Light Burns in the Darkness! Luke 1:26-47 On December 9, 1531, the indigenous civilization in central Mexico was in ruins. The Spanish had conquered the Aztec empire a decade earlier and the population was decimated by the causalities of war, and small pox. One poet wrote: "You have killed our warriors, you have burned our cities, and now you tell us our gods are not true. If that be true, why should we live? Let us die?" Into that environment the Virgin Mary appeared to a Mexican named Juan Diego, dressed as an indigenous woman and in colors that spoke to the heart of the native spiritual heritage with these words: "Listen and hear well in your heart, my most abandoned son, that which scares you and troubles you is nothing. Do not let your countenance and heart be troubled. Do not fear that sickness or any other sickness or anxiety. Am I not here, your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and my protection? Am I not your source of life? Are you not in the hollow of my mantle when I cross my arms? Who else do you need? Let nothing trouble you or cause you sorrow?" Early one morning, after a night of working the streets as a whore, a young man sat in the Cathedral in Los Angles, tired, angry at the male god who he accused of putting him on the street; and in those moments he stepped into line with the procession of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and heard her words--and he knew, he felt as he did the first time his heart was strangely warmed, and he heard God call him to preach! Here was the the feminine representative of the God of the New Testament, who now touched his life again. Yesterday, that not so young man, drove in the midst of wealth on Butter-field Road, from a basically all white school, to the middle class environment of San Rafael, and then to the streets of San Francisco. Depression over whelmed him, as he viewed hundreds sleeping on the street with little hope; being ignored by the crowds that passed them by; the story of Lazarus and the rich man, ran through his mind; there is that great divide--so where is the hope? Has he misread his God again? As he celebrated his friend's 18th birthday, the depression lifted, for in this first generation youth, whose parents, came from the southern hemisphere one could see Our Lady of Guadalupe and hear her words: "Listen and hear well in your heart, my most abandoned son, that which scares you and troubles you is nothing. Do not let your countenance and heart be troubled. Do not fear that sickness or any other sickness or anxiety. Am I not here, your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and my protection? Am I not your source of life? Are you not in the hollow of my mantle when I cross my arms? Who else do you need? Let nothing trouble you or cause you sorrow?" Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God! Fr. River Damien Sims, sfw, D.Min., D.S.T. P.O. Box 642656 San Francisco, CA 94164 www.temenos.org 415-305-2124 Our Thanks to the people of St. Luke's Episcopal Church and our friends in recovery who wrapped our Christmas gifts this year!
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keepawakeforadvent · 6 years
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Dreaming Wide Awake: Sermon on Mark 13:24-37
This is my sermon from my Preaching and Worship class this past week. 
One of my favorite childhood memories was when I would stay up all night waiting for Christmas morning. I remember sharing a room with my sister, giggling together under the covers, dreaming wide awake of what would be waiting under the tree for us. My heart would be burning with hope and excitement. My mouth would water the way it does when one anticipates joy so close you can almost taste it.
Both my anticipation of Christmas morning and the posture of this passage reminded me of the Princess Bride, when the boy finally gets sucked into the story, eager to hear more of the enticing story like drooling for another piece of candy. Because this pericope is exciting and enticing in its own way. The Son of Man will arrive in glory where the cosmos will be chaos. The Son of Man’s intimacy with creation is so tightly stitched that even the fig trees react to his divine presence. And yet, we are left with a cliffhanger. No one, only the Father, knows when the Son of Man will return. All of this build up and hope only to lead to an anti-climatic ending, despite a hopeful one. In all of this, we are instructed to “keep awake”. But what does that mean?
Using Advent as a time for meditation, self-reflection, and developing a closer relationship to God is a worthy and beautiful pursuit. However, I want to pull back the lens more both in the timeframe and in the horizon. What if Advent continues even after Christmas is over? Because we are living in the “already but not yet”. We are living and breathing right smack dab in the middle of the story, in the middle of the action. We are privileged to have the gift of knowing the beginning and the ending of the story. The author of Mark through the words of Jesus emphasizes that yes, this Son of Man is Christ, and yes, Christ will come back. The catch is that we are not promised a time.
Yet the earth groans. The weary world is waiting to rejoice. The world is crying out, swarmed by wounds of colonialism, racism, slavery, human trafficking, nuclear weapons, #MeToo campaigns, climate change, bathroom regulations, demonic tweets, and child pornography. The weary world is desperately waiting for some kind of thrill of hope.
Scripture does not provide a timeline, an estimated time of arrival for the Son of Man to return. My first reaction is anger and frustration. What are we supposed to do when the world is whimpering and at its feet?
Because we do not get the answer that we want, we need to examine what scripture does give us. Our passage encourages us to “keep awake”. But my question is, who is already awake? In the age of “wokeness”, what does it look like to examine some of the cause of lost sleep? What does it physically look like to keep awake waiting for relief? It looks something like this.
The mother’s pillowcase that soaks in tears every night as she grieves the unjust loss of her innocent young son.
The woman who curls into a ball, pulling the covers closer to her, scared that the only home of her daughter will be taken away from her, sent back to a country that she has never known.
The grandfather who stands in front of the fire all night, burning sage, hoping and praying that the last acre of land from his ancestors does not escape his hands like water through this fingers.
And me? I have lost sleep due to grief, to depression, and feeling isolated. But I have been privileged. I get to sleep at night now. I sleep the whole night through. I do not need to stay awake for Jesus because I get to sleep soundly. But that is an injustice. To fall asleep when my brothers, sisters, and friends are living out nightmares, crying themselves to sleep, and paralyzed by grief,     would be shut myself off from Jesus Himself. I am one of the disciples that fell asleep in the garden while waiting for Jesus. When have you fallen asleep because it was easier? More comfortable? When have you pulled the blinds on the windows of your hearts? When have you locked the door? How dare we preach about the rescue of Christ with a cool, nonchalant posture when the arrival of Christ is literally life-changing. There is a sense of urgency in this passage “keep awake” “be alert”, just as the entire book writes. This command to stay awake is not simply a call, it is an urgent call.
As the body of Christ, we are called to keep awake with urgency. But what does this mean? It is not enough to stay awake all night with our brothers, sisters, and siblings of all genders who are suffering. We have to decrease their urgency. There is a difference between actively and intentionally keeping awake and the inability to sleep, insomnia triggered by fear for survival. If we are called to stay awake together, then how are we supporting each other? For whom are you losing sleep in the name of justice?
We need to change what it means to lose sleep in our relationship with God. Are we staying up all night with the people we label homeless or low lifes, to make us feel better about ourselves without offering any assistance just strictly a listening ear? Or are we providing relief, are we providing the homes, the security, the healthcare, the emotionally safe spaces for all people to feel comfortable, to feel supported and free.
We are called to not only stay up all night with the mothers of Sandra Bland, Michael Brown, and Trayvon Martin, we have an urgent responsibility to prevent more sleepless nights for parents. We called to condemn police brutality against women and transwomen of color. We are called to condemn the Anglo-Saxon God, which theologian Kelly Brown Douglas describes as the idol of white supremacy masked as God itself. We are called to pour out ourselves in protests and tithing in the name of the uncomfortable gospel, the gospel that is a dream come true for the oppressed and the worse nightmare of the empire.
And lastly, when do you sleep, of what are you dreaming? Of whom are you dreaming? We need to dream of building a world together where every skin color is celebrated as a rainbow, where there are no favorites. Dream of a government that strives to burn racism and classism to the ground. Dream of a country that takes care of the widow, the orphan, and the immigrant, and welcomes them in like family. Dream of a table that always has an extra setting waiting for the next person looking to be fed. What are your dreams? How are they prophetic and sacred? How are your dreams inspiring you to stay awake in order to take action?
We strive to stay awake in our Facebook posts, in group discussions, in coffee hour chats, and in our circle of friends. What keeps you awake and what are you doing? For we are called to stay awake with urgency, taking our dreams and weaving them into concrete realities that change lives.
I hope we can dream together of a world where everyone waits for Jesus like a child waits for Christmas morning. Better yet, I pray we can work together to no longer lose sleep at the death of an innocent man on Good Friday but keep awake because we cannot contain our joy at the thought of an empty grave on Easter morning. Amen.
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