invncibleiron

[invncibleiron]

Let's burn bright til we're burned.

independent roleplay blog for canon and original characters, including muses from Game of Thrones, the MCU, Star Wars, Merlin, (AntiJKR) Harry Potter, and general fantasy. rules. starter call. memes. mobile muses under the cut.

CANON

Tony Stark - Marvel Comics - FC: Taylor Zakhar Perez: Bio Robb Stark - Game of Thrones - FC: Richard Madden: Bio  Talisa Maegyr - Game of Thrones - FC: Oona Chaplin: Bio Sirius Black - (Anti JKR) Harry Potter - FC: Tommy Martinez: Bio Padmé Amidala - Star Wars - FC: Natalie Portman: Bio Merlin - Merlin BBC - FC: Colin Morgan: Bio TBA

ORIGINAL: 

Anna Donnelly - Siren / Criminal - FC: Katie McGrath: Bio Azra Caymaz - Witch / Ghost Whisperer - FC: Demet Özdemir: Bio

#come follow me over here! #blog moving

[invncibleiron]

Let's burn bright til we're burned.

independent roleplay blog for canon and original characters, including Tony Stark (Marvel), Robb Stark (Game of Thrones), Sirius Black (Wizarding World), a murderous siren, and a girl who talks to ghosts. rules. mobile muses. starter call.

#new blog alert!

[invncibleiron]

I've made a multi-muse! @burnnouts

Tony will be moved over to the new blog, along with 2 OC's and a few more original characters, including Robb Stark from Game of Thrones. I don't know if anyone following me here is still interested in writing, but I would love to keep rping with all of you and hope to see you over there!

#blog change #im trying to come back for real now

[invncibleiron]

Small update that this is going to continue to be a very low activity blog, but I am still here and will be replying soon!

#ooc #tbd

[invncibleiron]

"Fuck." An elegant conclusion to her apt diagnosis. There were lines, he knew that. Lines he wasn't supposed to cross, lines that were put there for a reason. He had made that mistake before. He and Pepper, after years of working together, had gotten too close; he had let her into his orbit, and it had burned her. For a while after that, Tony had tried to go at it alone, to keep his distance, but the truth was, Tony needed the help. He wasn't any good on his own, that much was obvious. When he didn't have a blood and bone assistant, he built himself a digital one; at the moment, he had both, El working day in and day out on the people stuff, while FRIDAY--the pink, hologram of a woman that fluttered in and out of the office--was in charge of the digital, keeping their work running smoothly and, quite literally, keeping the lights turned on, since she paid his energy bills.

Tony had brought El in--promoting her from lobby secretary to his personal assistant--because, frankly, he'd needed the help, and she had proved herself above and beyond everything he'd ever expected of her. And Tony expected a lot. He liked to think he was a good boss, someone who didn't push his employees to work too much overtime, someone who paid a good, competitive wage, someone that let those who worked for him pitch their own ideas and show off their creativity. But you didn't become the top tech company in the world by slacking, and Tony took up most of the slack himself--meaning his P.A. was a full time, and often exhausting job.

El clocking out was....problematic. She was still here, still helping, still providing the peptalks, and she wasn't being paid for it. It would be an HR nightmare. He wasn't supposed to be friends with her. He had tried--really, he had--to keep a respectable working distance emotionally. But that was hard to keep up when the job meant late nights and weekends, impromptu trips across the globe, secret projects, and midnight tacos. His father would have rolled over in his grave to know Tony made 'friends' with his employees when he should have been the boss with an iron fist. But that had never been his leading style.

And let's be honest, this wasn't about leading. All his efforts, all the roadblocks he'd tried to put in their way, hadn't worked. He and El were friends. Or maybe more, maybe--no. He wouldn't let his mind go there. Friends was save. He could do friends.

With an exaggerated groan, Tony took her hands and got to his feet. "Mechanical waffle," he pitched--at least this time, it was a joke. An hour ago, desperately tired and burned out, the pizza donut had not been a joke. "Your breakfast buddy; a toy for kids that teaches them to make food. Or digital cereal boxes." He yawned then said to the room at large, "FRIDAY, you know the drill." Close the open files, lock the confidential information, and put the lab on lockdown until they got back. "Alright," he told El. "Lead the way."

Suppose it’s times like these where people forget the man behind the suit. The definition genius, though a subjective term, seemed to alternate between vending machine and and phone updates. When in reality, or at least El’s version of it, you can’t force genius. It takes time, patience even despite the very word seemingly forbidden in this day and age of fleeting trends and what not. One day it’s computers in our phones, the next it’s now headsets. VR gave her a headache most times as did the nagging drawls of investors banging on their door.

She’d been thinking up escape plans in her head for the last hour until Tony finally spoke up and when he did, it was to send her home. “Truthfully, I clocked out four hours ago, so, I’m not technically here as your assistant but as a friend.” Friend, they’ve been throwing that word around for awhile now since the pair are practically glued to hip. Sure, most of the things she’s come to know about were due to work but then there’s not. Long flights over seas with a tad bit of champagne that airs out decades’ old secrets that neither have thought about in—well, decades. Petty things like high school crushes and embarrassing dates and what was deemed wild at 21 wouldn’t even cross their minds now. Or when he flew her to Tokyo for dinner because they didn’t make it to their favorite Japanese place before they closed for the night. Time differences helped. Or even those quiet moments where she notices the way his brow creases in deep thought and how it’s completely different from the annoyed brow or his make-up-an-emergency-so-I-can-dip-this-event smile. Friend seemed to do just nicely—though she’d be lying at the gnawing wonder of thoughts that tangle into delusion in ever thinking he’d consider her anything more.

“And…as your friend…I’m telling you right now to get up.” Pushing her knees, El stands and strides to his seat with an offering head. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m taking you out for midnight waffles and I ain’t taking no for an answer. Call it inspirational resourcing.” She gestures to her hand again. “It’ll be good for you.” There’s a determined look in her eye though that could just be the late night near stir crazy but nothing coffee and some soul food couldn’t remedy—so, determined it is.

#xgoldxnhour #v: avengers assemble #[queue] i will explain it when we get back; i will draw pictures; i will use puppets

[invncibleiron]

"Insider secrets," Tony said in a teasingly cryptic tone. "I can't give away all my tricks--gotta have that competitive edge." He took a seat beside Carol and handed her the drink. It was elaborate, the way most Tony Stark inventions were; if he was in a bit of a drought right now with new, marketable tech, he might as well make up for it with his bartending skills. "Habits from another life," he said simply. She knew all too well what that other life was like. And that was also the reason he knew to find her here. They shared that particular bad habit, that go-to pick-me-up that didn't really do so much picking up as it did forcing you deeper into the hole you'd built for yourself.

Tony shrugged. "Can't argue with what works. Carol Smash," he said in the mimicking tone of another Avenger's catchphrase--not that the Hulk ever really said that. His toy, on the other hand, said it every time you pressed the little green button on his plastic back. Tony now looked out over the city, taking a sip of his own drink. He was fine--this wasn't about him--but he still wished it held something stronger; he supposed he always would. "That's blackmail," he said, pointing his straw at her with an exaggerated frown. "And well played." He stirred his drink. "Alright, you want to talk about long lost siblings? I raise you long lost brother--who's not really related to me at all--that's been living in a secret hospital room downtown my whole life and thinks I took his place because, well, I did. Tell me how you feel about yours, I'll tell you how I feel about mine."

❛   so what's your secret ? do you have a Tony sense that tingles when i'm somewhere sulking because you always manage to show up at the right time.   ❜ or the WORST time, but details. perhaps, it's her own damn fault for being too predictable. she needs to start changing her depressive habits. even so, she takes the drink from him, thanking him & taking a sip. ❛   should i be concerned that you know how to make delicious mocktails ?   ❜ Carol teases, appreciating the touch of the decorations, only to shake her head when she takes a good look at the ice. ❛   i'm not even surprised . . .   ❜

with a sigh, she turns in his direction. the FROWN on her features had already become a headache, prompting her to massage her forehead. ❛   i don't just smash things, yanno ?   ❜ a weak defense, but a defense nonetheless. however, he always foots the bill whenever the Avengers break something ( intentionally or unintentionally ). ❛   i'm still trying to decide.   ❜ she smirks, relaxing & taking another sip of the piña colada. ❛   it's NOTHING specific. i'm just feeling melancholic, i suppose. thinking of my mother & now having a sister, it's a lot. & it's nothing simultaneously in the grand scheme of things. so . . . you should talk about yourself first to try to coax things out of me.   ❜

#danversiism #v: avengers assemble #[queue] i will explain it when we get back; i will draw pictures; i will use puppets

[invncibleiron]

"I let myself in," he finished the sentence for her. No, they hadn't had a meeting. No, he hadn't called ahead. He was pretty sure if he had, she would have screened the call. Not that they weren't talking anymore--they were. Sort of. But he knew what it was like to be stuck in a project, to be so absorbed in your work, you didn't know what time of the week it was, let alone the time of the day. Little things like emails and phone-calls went out the window in times like that. Tony had built himself an AI--actually, a series of AI--for that very reason. For the last few years, it had been FRIDAY who picked up the phone for him, FRIDAY who organized his schedule, answered his emails, and paid the phone bills. Back in the old days though? Back in the old days, it had been Pepper. Tony didn't blame Pepper for moving on to bigger and better things, but it spoke volumes to know he'd needed a computer to replace her. But who was Pepper's Pepper?

Tony pulled two cheeseburgers out of a paper bag along with a large side of fries and two milkshakes. Cheeseburgers, as far as Tony was concerned, were a food of last resort. On an everyday basis, he was a bit of a health nut: green juices and beet smoothies, heart-healthy alternatives, organic produce. Part of it was convenience; Tony didn't have to think as long as he kept his workshop fridge stocked full of juice. The other part of it was paranoia; he had a bad heart, a body he put through the wringer every day, and after decades of alcohol abuse, his liver was hanging on by a thread. The least he could do now was put good things into his body to try and hang on as long as he could. Tony Stark didn't plan to live forever; he was generally lucky to live through the week, but he had more to do before he was ready to throw in the towel.

So cheeseburgers marked desperation. It was the first food he'd wanted when he'd finally made it out of that cave. It was the food he'd eaten in the rubble of his tower after the Inhumans had leveled it after Rhodey had died. And now here he was, desperate once again: desperate to get Pepper back, desperate to have something in his life that was familiar, that was good. Selfish, Stark, said the little voice in his head that voice that, ironically, always sounded so much like Pepper's. He had always needed her more than she needed him; he knew that. It just seemed a lot more obvious now.

He looked around the office. One thing was certain: it looked better than his. Tony's life was, to put it nicely, a mess. FRIDAY was gone--that was a long story--and MJ had quit; Rhodey was dead, half the Avengers hated him (which wasn't exactly new), and though Tony hadn't had a drink yet, he could feel the need clawing at the back of his throat--his oldest friend, always ready to reconnect. "When was the last time you left this room?" he asked Pepper. Hypocrite. If he had anything he was even a little bit interested in working on--if his company wasn't circling the drain--he'd be locked up in his office too. Would he have even come here if he had any project he actually cared about? Would he have still 'checked in,' been a friend, if there was 'world saving' work to be done? He wanted to believe he would.

"Take it from a bit of an expert, but you stay on this path, you're going to burn out, Pep. You need to recharge. When was the last time you saw actual daylight?"

SHE HAD ALWAYS BEEN A HARD WORKER. Someone who had to overachieve, be better than the rest; after all for Pepper there had been more riding on her shoulders than anyone. She never tried to stand out, at least in her childhood for one or two specific reasons, that she knew she would. Yet Pepper had always been a good child, save for a snag here or there, trying to get all As and please her parents. Competing in sports because her father and brother wanted them to make the team together. Sports had always been for others, not that she didn't put on a game or two when she was in the office on a work binge.

It's not even necessarily Resilient work; she's got other things in life. Owning a major media company, one of the largest in the world came with its own stresses, even when she left it to be ran by others. Resilient always had her focus first. Working for Stark Industries than Tony Stark had only further instilled that she's a hard worker, with which only cemented her workaholic tendencies. WHATEVER TIME IT WAS NOW. Pepper was hands-on, involved, and a bit of a micromanager if anything.

One day, she wondered if she'd be the feature of a biopic like Steve Jobs which really was the poor man's Stark or the ones trying to be made about Tony before he's even dead; where all their negative traits are pull apart, shown they brilliant minds and horrible bosses. What would hers be like; CHRIST! Every day she tried to make sure she put in the work, paid taxes which was a nightmare of a season; and than some.

I BROUGHT OFFERINGS. Her eyes only dart away from reading an email exchange from her other company; not her primary but the media company, catching up to executive decisions that needed to be made. It takes her a moment to register that TONY STARK is the one delivering her lunch.

Wait, she hadn't ordered any. ❝ We don't have a meet⸻ ❞ Or had they, considering that they were in contact with each other again recently. She had picked up the phone, they had talked once before this, first time after she had cut contact with him. REASONS THAT HURT.

She holds her finger up at him, trying to make some point as he asks her how long she's been here. This was a bizarre side of the table to be on. Words that should have come out of her mouth. ❝ I'll have you know that I took a very restful six hour nap⸻ ❞ In her second office, which was still in this same building.

❝ What's our poison? ❞ She'll cave to whatever she's brought him, because she is hungry.

#v: avengers assemble #oceansfirst #[queue] i will explain it when we get back; i will draw pictures; i will use puppets

[invncibleiron]

A fox trotting around his company's headquarters was not the weirdest thing Tony had seen in this building, let alone in this city. His little trip into Beck's world had been interesting to say the least--a whole new type of magic, different than the Mandarin's, different even than Doctor Strange--but by now, Tony was used to interesting. He periodically fought a giant sea monster that came out of the Atlantic ocean once in a blue moon, and being friends with Thor--an otherworldly, Asgardian prince who, in some circles, was worshipped as a god--had taught Tony about a ride range of beasts and mystical worlds and objects that weren't supposed to exist in this world. A combination of everything he'd seen, plus his own out-of-this-world ideas had made Stark Industries not just the HQ of tech for the future, but a chance to make the tech of tomorrow, to make the impossible possible. Those who came to work for him knew there was no idea too crazy to try; just like they knew their boss had a metal, flying bodyguard that frequently teamed up with other super-powered people to save the world. What they didn't know was that Tony was the one in the armor.

By a string of accidents and bad luck, Beck did know that Tony was Iron Man. He also owed her his life. Which was why, leaned back in his office chair, legs up on the desk, and tossing a paper ball in the air, Tony did not immediately stop her as he watched her go from security camera to security camera, bewitching his employees and making her way closer and closer to his office. He had to give it to her; she was good. Then again, he'd figured that out the hard way when she'd saved him from certain death in those godforsaken woods. Tony watched the camera feed for a moment longer before sighing and getting up. He could use another cup of coffee.

Making his way into the kitchen, Tony reached over the curled up fox to turn on the coffee machine and start its brewing. He then set down the mug and raised an eyebrow at his visitor. "You could have called," he said, sounding half amused, half confused by her sudden arrival. Then his eyes caught on the bag with the broken phone inside it. Oh, he thought. That answered it. She was here for tech support. Well, that was easy enough, but how had she found him?

"Coffee?" he asked, grabbing a second mug from the cupboard. It seemed they had some catching up to do; and he had some questions he needed answered, like what she'd done to his security for starters.

@invncibleiron

Of course he had to be in the worst of all places. She ran the locator spell three times until the blood crystals were completely used up, and every time it told her the same thing: New York City. One of the last places on the planet she wanted to be. The only place she dreaded more was Seattle.

But her options were limited and her mind was made up. She packed up her bottomless bag with supplies and found the shrunken VW bus that she'd spent her teenage years living out of in an old junk drawer attached to the keys by a chain. It grew back to its rightful size and started with some blood magic and force of will, and she was headed south to NYC before the next morning. The spell wasn't specific enough to show much more than the city, and she didn't have the luxury of time to roam around New York before certain people found out she was there, so she took to asking passersby if they'd seen a man in a shiny red and gold suit by the name of Tony. The first one had laughed at her, but the next one had been kind enough to awkwardly offer up directions to "Stark Tower" which, rather disappointingly, was not an enormous tower attached to a castle in the middle of the city.

The front doors opened easily enough, but a woman on the other side of them tried to stop her when she approached the stairs.

"Oh don't mind me." She said brightly, waving her hand casually and pushing the alarm right out of the stranger's mind. The stranger blinked, then smiled her way, and then turned around to never think of her again.

The higher up she got the more annoying the doors were getting, and the person she was looking for wasn't behind any of them. She blended in where she could, and magically pushed the thought of herself out of the mind of everyone she couldn't. By the time she got to the top of the building she was annoyed, and if she had to do one more opening spell she was going to lose her mind. Somewhere along the line, she had shifted from a human to a fox, and was now using her nose and her acute sense of hearing to zero in on the vaguely remembered scent of him. The bag with her broken phone was gingerly held in her mouth as she trotted along.

She finally gave up, perching herself on top of a kitchen counter and laying there. It was a bit rude, but she was tired, and running out of patience. He had to come and eat eventually. He would come to her.

#v: secret identity #[queue] i will explain it when we get back; i will draw pictures; i will use puppets #maggicktouched

[invncibleiron]

"That's criminal. We'll get some more," Tony assured him, sparing the bag one quick glance before deciding they'd be lucky if there were crumbs still to offer by the time they finished the tour. "There's a cart down the street that sells the best gyros in New York. You'll love them." Tony knew he wasn't exaggerating when he said that he'd single-handedly funded the chef's new, bigger, better food truck with the number of orders the tower had put in over the years. Tony wasn't sure what the 'normal' protocol was when it came to touring an alien around earth, but introducing him to the cuisine had seemed important. Of course, Spock's first day, they had started with cheeseburgers.

"Officially? No. There was a small window where we were operating out of a giant floating invisible helicarier." Tony touched a button on his watch, skimmed through a few holographic folders, then clicked on a blueprint which illuminated a blue, floating diagram of the giant plane the spy organization, SHIELD, had first founded the team on. Pannels on the sides had rendered it nearly invisible, and it had hosted a wide array of gear and weapons. "That lasted about 48 hours. The idea was to bring a bunch of super powered people together when the world needed it; an on-call sort of super team. But after the first time the world almost went nuclear, we decided we might make a better team if he we acted like a team." Tony, for one, acted like he he wasn't a team player, like he liked being the lone wolf; but it had been his idea to open the tower, his idea to bring everyone together under one roof, to try and find some way to unite them and find better ways to practice fighting side by side than just waiting for the next disaster.

He closed the hologram and pushed open a door. "This one's yours, if you want it." It was bare bones for the time being. Tony usually did some hypothetical decorating--usually going too far and filling the rooms with things people neither wanted nor needed (like that one time he'd gotten Clint a cotton candy machine)--but for the Vulcan, Tony had decided simpler was better. White walls, a bed, a bathroom, a desk and work station, and all the tools and tech he could possibly want. "Say the word, and FRIDAY can help you decorate." As Tony spoke, a pink hologram of a woman appeared in front of them both. She walked a circle around Spock, sizing him up, then stuck a nonmaterial hand through his head and back out again. "She runs everything around here," Tony explained.

With enough time passed, Spock knows better than to be surprised by what — or who — he finds here, and not just in the confines of the campus, but on Earth.

                                                    Working with Stark has offered Spock opportunities that, previously, he has only conjured in his imagination despite the knowledge of warp drives and dozens of other alien worlds. He is — he feels content — and it is an unconventional thought for a Vulcan, he realizes, hedging on the border of emotionalism and his own human half.

But on the verge of new frontiers, Spock would be remiss to deny his anticipation for every new day among them.

Part of a team.

                                                    “ A gyro? ” standing in the kitchen, Spock smoothly sidesteps around Barton and the countertop, peering curiously at the bag and wondering what precisely a gyro is. He catches the scent of fresh vegetables as the takeout is — assaulted, for lack of better term — reading only a partial sentence of the receipt stuck to the side. There are tomatoes — apparently — onions, and something called tzatziki.

“ Negative. ” He says, certain his home world possesses nothing like it. He casts his interest inside before his instincts drive him to dissect it further, called, and moves away from the crowding Avengers to follow after Stark.

                                                    “ Of course. Has this always been the team’s base of operations? The tower? ”

#v: avengers assemble #fasciinating #[queue] i will explain it when we get back; i will draw pictures; i will use puppets

[invncibleiron]

Maria Stark had been a good person. There was a reason that the Stark Charity department still held her name. Tony could still remember being young enough to sit in her lap, young enough not to have tasted a drink yet, a kid listening to his mom describe her hometown; he remembered the pictures she'd pull out in her little, physical, picture album. He hadn't touched a physical photo album since, his whole world on the digital Stark servers--every memory, every memo, every file floating in the 'cloud.' He remembered the slight accent when his mother spoke English, and the hope in her eyes when she spoke of the future. He also remembered the day that light went out. There came a day--Tony couldn't have been older than six--that Maria Stark stopped trying, stopped coming out of her room, stopped fighting with her husband. She still attended all the balls and the events, still smiled for the cameras, but Tony saw what no one else would: that her smile was false, forced. Tony learned many things from his father; how to charm a crowd, how to lead a company, how to drink. He learned to smile from his mother.

All these years later, Tony couldn't blame his mother for retreating. She had been trapped in a loveless marriage and an unforgiving country; it was no wonder she'd hidden away her heart, the last thing she still had control of. In the meantime, she'd done all the good she could with what she'd been given; she'd found uses for the Stark fortune Howard would never have thought about, and she helped a lot of people with the years she had.

Mrs. Rhodes wasn't like Tony's mother though. She was warm, and when she smiled, she really meant it. When she told Tony he was welcome in her home, he almost believed it. He had fought ten foot lizard monsters and giant robots, fought actual, literal aliens, and still, there were few things in the world that frightened him quite as much as the idea of disappointing her. Waking her up right now wasn't on the table. So Tony sat quietly on the edge of Rhodey's bed, rubbing his palms over his face and feeling stupid--something he felt surprisingly often for someone who was anything but.

"This was a bad idea," he said finally. "We need to leave." He felt guilty saying it--we--but that was who he was, wasn't it? He was selfish, and he needed Rhodey at his side, even if Rhodey would have been better off if he'd never met him. He'd dragged Rhodey into his messes time and time again. The last he could do was keep his mom out of it. "I've been cloaking the house," he admitted, opening up the small holographic report on his watch. "But it's only a matter of time before someone realizes I'm here and makes it her problem, and it's not. I won't let it be."

invncibleiron​:

@bokketo is about to get all the starters (Rhodey)

Tony had been laying in bed for close to an hour, memorizing a shadow on the ceiling, before he finally gave in to the truth that he would not be sleeping tonight. He got up carefully, aware of the squeaking of the bed and of the floor under his feet as he patted down the hall toward Rhodey’s room. Tony was thirty-five years old, but he felt like a child sneaking out after curfew; Mrs. Rhodes always had a way of making him feel that way. In fact, Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever felt the way he did in the Rhodes’ home–like he was someone that needed caring for, someone worth worrying over.

It was irresponsible to be here, reckless even. The short way of putting it was that Tony’s life had become a bit of a mess: an ex employee had stolen a handful of Tony’s personal designs and used them to wreak havoc overseas, and though Tony had tracked him down and gotten back every last lug nut, his company’s stocks had plummeted and the board of investors was coming for his blood. Then there was the little fact that he’d fallen off the wagon and been photographed by paparazzi leaving a bar, that he’d publicly been dumped by Janet Van Dyne just days after, that the VR world he’d tried to make as entertainment had–like so many things he’d made–been weaponized, and now Tony was facing more lawsuits than he could name.

Falling off the radar for a bit had seemed like a good idea, but he never should have let Rhodey talk him into coming here. No paparazzi had followed him yet, but what if they did? What if they came knocking down Mrs. Rhodes’ door just because she’d made the damning mistake of taking pity on him?

Tony pushed open Rhodey’s bedroom door quietly. “You awake?” he whispered. God, he hoped he was awake.

     If Roberta had a window into Tony’s brain, he would have gotten quite the earful from her. There would be an initial tirade about how he could possibly believe that she couldn’t handle a few reporters and send them running back to their mothers, followed by one about how it was absolutely hellish of them to hound one of her boys like this, and eventually devolve into her sighing and stomping off to cook something because Tony really needed more meat on his bones.

     Luckily, Rhodey was less prone to lecturing. Instead, he blinked awake at the knock and squinted at the line of light that appeared around the edge of the opening door.

     “Tones? You okay?” He forced the gravel of sleep from his voice, sitting up. “Come in and close the door.” There would be hell to pay in the morning if they woke Rhodey’s mother up — or at least he would pay it. Tony, though equally scolded much of the time, also got preferential treatment these days. Rhodey understood ; the man had it hard enough right now, there was no need to add insult to injury.

     He motioned Tony forward, disentangling himself from the comforter and pulling it back so that there was room on the bed next to him. It was still the same twin bed he had since he was a kid with the same old space posters plastered on the wall next to it. The two of them probably had each one memorized by now given how much time they’d spent in this room, but Rhodey hadn’t been able to bring himself to swap them out. Sometimes he missed those simpler days, missed when they didn’t even have to think of the wider world past personal aspirations, never mind bearing the weight of it.

     “Sit,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

#bokketo #v: avengers assemble #[queue] i will explain it when we get back; i will draw pictures; i will use puppets

[invncibleiron]

There would be time to panic later--or, rather, with the two of them on the job, there wouldn't be a reason to panic later. They had this under control. Captain America and Iron Man had been in bigger binds than this one, and Steve Rogers and Tony Stark shouldn't be underestimated when they put their heads together. Despite all his "I'm Not a Team Player" bravado, Tony had realized since the Avengers had come together that he actually liked being part of a team; when it was just he and Steve, however, it felt more like some formidable duo, like they worked perfectly in step together. Usually, Tony hated the idea of someone reading his mind--and if Charles Xavier was anywhere in the vicinity (or any other telepathic mutant for that matter), Tony would have doubled down on that notion. But sometimes, it felt like Steve could read his mind--and it didn't feel bad. It felt natural, felt like Tony could finally understand the phrase "on the same page." All his life, Tony had felt like he was reading his own book, that he was on his own shelf in the library, so far from the same page as the rest of the world, his genre hadn't been invented yet. Steve didn't always understand what Tony was talking about when it came to science, sure, but few people ever did. Steve had offered something surprisingly better: someone who seemed to understand him.

"Oh you're so on, C--" Tony cut himself off, seconds from calling Steve 'Cap.' It was a title that came to his lips so easily when they were in public, when they were in a battle of wits or snark. Alone in the workshop, when they were tired or alone, or--Tony's heart clenched to think of it--when he was hurt in battle, 'Cap' became, simply, 'Steve,' his name a single syllable, a desperate cry to be alright, to stay. If Tony needed any more incentive to get that flashdrive back--and he didn't; knowing his designs had been stolen incentive enough (the idea of those designs in the wrong hands, the danger they could do--he had promised himself, promised the world it would never happen again...)--it was the idea of sitting still for a painting. Tony wasn't about to admit it to Steve any time soon, but he'd always had a bit of daydream about being the subject of one of Steve's paintings. It was the idea of Steve's eyes on him for that long, all that artistic concentration turned on him, Tony. The very idea made goosebumps erupt over the back of his neck. Those bright blue eyes might look like ice, but they made Tony feel very, very warm sometimes. There was no way he was going to be able to sit still under that gaze.

Tony watched Steve go, then he turned the other way and slipped into the crowd, giving those around him the full Stark charm--smiling and shaking hands, laughing at jokes that weren't even the slightest bit funny, warming up the crowd like he'd done a thousand times before (and, of course, using microchippers to get all their fingerprints). In the meantime, the contacts he was wearing--because this was one occasion where his default sunglasses couldn't be worn--were connected to JARVIS' mainframe and were scanning the room, searching for hints of a secret door and running intel on everyone he caught the eye of.

There was always a novelty to being someone completely unknown. It was something he could easily get lost in. If Tony would have asked him, despite his gregarious and big personality, Steve thinks he would have made a good spy. Not in the same way as Natasha that felt lethal, sneaky, and dangerous—but in an unexpected way where the truth was overshadowed by whatever Tony wanted someone to focus on. And of course, he's oh so clever. If anyone asked Steve would have been convinced Tony could accomplish whatever he set his mind on, despite the odds. Something proved time and time again during their times working together.

He would have much preferred jeans and a t-shirt, a staple of what Steve opted for when the occasion called for it. And he didn't mind these clothes too much when it was Tony picking them or Tony staring at him in them, a dimpled smile forming at his challenge. Steve was game for a little bet. He wouldn't say it but he was sure win or lose he would be his test dummy regardless, having a way of always drifting to his work space when Tony spent hours head deep in his projects and thoughts, just seeking a little closeness.

"When I get it you will have to be my model. You're going to have to stand very, very still for quite a bit." Steve says after a moment and struts in the opposite direction of the people within the party, tossing one look back and winking all blue and bright because regardless one of them would be getting Tony's flash drive back.

#godstrayed #v: avengers assemble #[queue] i will explain it when we get back; i will draw pictures; i will use puppets

[invncibleiron]

@cxpt  liked this for a starter

Tony put on a casual exterior, but that didn't mean he didn't worry. Sometimes, he thought the only thing he did was worry. He worried that all his "genius" inventions wouldn't be enough to save the world; he worried that there'd be a day the Avengers wouldn't get to the danger in time to save the day; he worried about global warming and global food shortages, and that he was never going to make up for all the bad he'd put into the world. He worried that his company wasn't going to make enough in the next quarter to stay afloat, and he wouldn't be able to fund the Avengers anymore. He worried that his team would fall apart, that Tony might one day lead them somewhere they couldn't come back from, that their deaths would one day be on his hands. Somewhere along that list was Steve--Steve who had been thrust into a new century, a new decade, a new world, and, by all appearances, seemed to be doing just fine. But how could he be? How could anyone ever wake up in a new world and just be fine with it?

Natasha's voice rang in the back of Tony's mind even now: don't mistake knowing where Cap is for knowing who he is. Well, he knew where he was this time. Back in his room, and this time, with paintings on the wall and actual signs of life in his living quarters. When Tony had offered to get him a white noise machine, a TV--anything, really, to brighten the place up (and in Tony's definition, 'brighten' didn't just mean good window designs, but tech in every corner, shining blue and bright and Stark-brilliant)--it was because it was the only way Tony knew how to help. He couldn't bring Bucky back, couldn't send Steve back in time, but he could make him more comfortable in the future. But even that he kept getting wrong, didn't he?

"JARVIS, page Cap. Tell him to come to the kitchen." Tony spoke to his AI as he finished setting up the brand new ice-cream machine in the team kitchen. He placed a bow on the top. Had Steve actually ever said he wanted an ice-cream machine? No. Had Tony yet again interpreted 'being a friend' as needing to make a big, showy, techy display? No comment. The point was, it had Butter Pecan flavorings ready to go, and that had to prove the beauty of the twenty-first century...right?

#cxpt #started simple and fluffy but feel free to go any direction with it! #v: avengers assemble #[queue] i will explain it when we get back; i will draw pictures; i will use puppets

[invncibleiron]

Replies coming today! Sorry for going MIA so soon after coming back. I'm trying to get adjusted to my new work schedule, but I think I'm starting to get the hang of it!

#ooc #tbd

[invncibleiron]

Iron Man #23 - “Buy the Four” (2022)

written by Christopher Cantwell art by Angel Unzueta & Frank D'Armata

#[comics]Sometimes I wonder which is the real me... this splendid metal skin I've created -- or the frail thing of flesh that wears it #[queue] i will explain it when we get back; i will draw pictures; i will use puppets

[invncibleiron]

starter for @shieldied

Tony hadn't expected to need Iron Man tonight. He had spread the rumors far and wide since constructing his alter ego: that Tony Stark had a new body guard, the Invincible Iron Man (Invincible had been an addition of the newspapers, but Tony hadn't complained). The world believed--and Tony let them--that Iron Man was always just around the corner, that his body guard was a mere second away from swooping down in the case of danger. On more than one occasion, Tony had paraded the (empty) suit around while he stood next to it; it hadn't done much, just paced as it was programmed to, back and forth, but that had been enough: the newspapers got pictures, and Tony got his confirmation: Tony Stark and Iron Man, seen at the same time. But Iron Man was not right around the corner. Iron Man was stored in Tony's watch--a billion nano robots ready to start construction in a moment's notice. After quite a bit of tinkering, Tony had got the set up process to around 60 seconds. No longer did he have to carry the bulky armor around in a suitcase or--when he'd first started--in the back of his car. Now, all he had to do was disappear for a minute and return: Tony Stark gone, Iron Man in his place.

The only problem was, there hadn't been much time to disappear after the explosion. It had been a normal, everyday party: the sort of stuffy social event that no one really wanted to be at but everyone felt required to attend. Tony had been talking to a senator, pretending not to be appalled by every word that came out of the man's mouth, and at some point, he'd started talking with Steve Rogers. And then--BOOM! An explosion from down the hall, and the chandelier fell, Tony--as himself--managing to push a man out of the way just in time. Leaving Rogers where he was and banking on the fact that the threat of danger would be enough of a distraction, Tony slipped back through the crowd and around the corner, ducking behind a pillar as he pressed the button on his watch. Immediately, the armor began to grow, sliding over his wrist, up his arm, then to his chest. It melded together, piece by piece, until the faceplate finished the job and there stood Iron Man: a seamless suit of red and gold armor, energy pulsating in the waiting repulsers of his boots and gloves.

Iron Man shot up in the air and hovered above the scene, using the HUD screen and his internal AI to scope out the damage. He scanned the crowd. The man he'd pushed out of the way looked just fine--a scraped knee at best--and he could see the senator off to the left. But where had Rogers gone?

#shieldied #v: secret identity #let me know if you want me to change anything!

[invncibleiron]

Last Christmas (2019) Dir. Paul Feig

#[face] i would totally kiss me right now if not for my fear of beard burn #[queue] i will explain it when we get back; i will draw pictures; i will use puppets

[invncibleiron]

@bokketo gets yet another starter (Stevie)

As far as secret hide-aways go, this wasn't the worst Tony had ever been in. It had the makings of a cave--small, dark, few human interactions--but it had one big difference: that he wasn't being held here against his will. That said, walking out the front door wasn't really an option either. Ever since the faulty time machine had dropped Tony back into the war camps of the 1940's, he had been hiding out in Steve's quarters, stealing tech from around the camp to try and build himself a path home, but it was slow going: Tony Stark could build the future with a box of scraps--this time, he just needed to built a path back to the future with the scraps of the past. (And avoid irreversibly changing the future while he was at it.)

When Steve came back in that night, Tony was laying on his bed, throwing a piece of smooth scrap metal up in the air and catching it again, back and forth, back and forth. His mind was a million miles away, trying to figure out his missing linchpin, but he looked over when Steve entered. It had been over a week since he'd met this version of Steve--smaller, sicker, but no less stubborn. But perhaps the weirdest part of all this was that this Steve spent his days doing experiments with Tony's father, a man Tony had been avoiding running into for his own prosperity. If he met his father decades before he was even born, would he even be born at all?

"The old man find any new ways to ruin the world today?" Tony asked in a would-be-casual voice.

#bokketo #v: time travel #[queue] i will explain it when we get back; i will draw pictures; i will use puppets