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shellheadtmark2 · 5 years

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it may not be a thing in current comic continuity, but it applies to my tony post-im3 (to a lesser degree) for the mcu, and i do regularly write in the extremis/civil war/director of shield era of 616, so. let’s have a sitdown. talk about extremis, what it is, and what tony’s version of it can do, because his is not your bog standard version. extremis is kinda gross, so if you’re squeamish, you might not wanna go further.

now then.

WHAT IS EXTREMIS?

to put it bluntly and clumsily: extremis is a super soldier serum. that’s right, your favorite shellhead is, in an...oblique, roundabout way, also a super soldier, while using/under the effects of extremis. what it does is hack the body’s repair center - in the brain, obviously - and replaces what we naturally have with the extremis version of the blueprints. when someone who can properly use extremis is given the dose (less than 2.5% of the population has the genetic marker for extremis - anyone else exposed dies), their brain takes these blueprints and assumes the body is wrong. essentially, to fix this, this entire body becomes effectively an open wound, and the person being given extremis becomes what’s basically a cocoon of scabs. during this phase the body is basically broken down and rebuilt, using the extremis blueprints. basically, in its typical form, it builds healthier, stronger bodies. super soldiers.

users of regular ol’ extremis have advanced healing, boosted immune systems, better organs, super speed, becoming practically indestructible through conventional methods, being naturally bulletproof, breathing fire, and generating electricity.

it also comes with extreme aggressiveness, free of charge. fun!

TONY’S EXTREMIS

tony’s works a little differently than above. he trades in a lot of the super powers part of it for things that are useful for him personally, which is where shit starts to get really fucking weird. he hacked his. the typical incubation time in the scab cocoon is three days or so, tony brought his down to twenty four hours.

interfacing: with extremis, tony can directly interface (yes, with his big brain) with machinery of all types. life support systems? better not piss him off (i’m kidding it would haunt him forever). computers, security systems, radio bands, communication lines, cellphones, television broadcasts, satellites, and beyond are all things he can connect to directly. he’s basically literally and figuratively directly wired into the armor and has complete control over it that way, too, with a thought, so his response times and reflexes are better and faster. what it basically is? a level of technomancy. he can do all kinds of crazy shit, like give you a call without his phone, because he can both call you from and speak to you directly through his brain. basically if it’s connected in any fashion? if it’s in any way mechanical? tony has access to it. sleep tight. c:

healing factor: one part of the original he does keep. to be...well. out there and kinda tinfoil hat sounding about it? his healing factor is nuts with the extremis. he’s immune to a lot of things now, he probably doesn’t even catch the common cold. comics-wise he cut off part of his own foot (long story) and it regrew overnight. he can survive a stopped heart longer than you and i could (there’s an endgame au for you right there y’all). basically, while he’s not indestructible, he’s harder to kill than ever. kinda like...a cockroach, i guess.

physiology: he gets some perks here, too. his lung capacity is now almost twice that of a normal person’s. his brain is now set up like a harddrive, and he’s even partitioned it, with one section being overclocked. basically, what this means is that if you’re a telepath? can’t read his mind, it doesn’t function like a normal brain anymore. it also means he can take in massive amounts of data at all times. wanna catch the news? he can do it in his head. while piloting the iron man and controlling three other suits, making a phone call, and updating his twitter. yeah. motor functions are improved. endurance is better. he kind of needs to sleep even less. fun for the whole family. and now literally no one can steal his armor, because he’s connected to it on the genetic level. creeped out yet? oh just wait.

side effects: because of course it doesn’t come without side effects. he takes in a massive amount of information at all times, and he just can’t process it consciously fast enough, so most of that information is directed into kind of a...holding center, where it gets done in the background. the problem with this is? that holding center is in the part of the brain where we process guilt and grief. so when his brain wants to spit out information its processed for him, he sees “ghosts”. people who’ve died, that he feels like he’s failed on some level and thinks he could have prevented the death of. 616-wise, steve is one of his many ghosts (because steve is technically dead at that point). he can be hacked, if you’re smart enough, and you could literally kill him with an extremis-friendly computer virus. certain responses - irritability, paranoia, aggressiveness - are all amplified with extremis. he gets lost in the data streams coming into his head sometimes.

#★ subroutine . about / waging my wars behind my face and above my throat #cw body horror #cw hallucinations #// extremis is a goddamn ride #// and i hate how the mcu handled it #// they tried?#// but they left out the major details of how it works #// how dangerous it actually is #// anyway so yeah #// extremis is happy funtime ig

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in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather · 3 years

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SILKY!!!!! They really went and gave us Centaur Adam!!! I am screeching!!!!! Part of me thinks this is really funny and I’d love to see AD’s reaction bc I think he would totally find this extraordinarily silly and amusing, and the other part of me is like this is hot and I am trembling with need?! Your thoughts please? Will there be centaur AUs? Lol!! - 📖

The only time ‘horsecock’ makes sense xD

But ok, 📖 anon, hold on, what are we doing?

Why am I low-key into this?

Why do I know for a fact that in a modern centaur AU, both your favorite song is Pony by Ginuwine?

Girl, when I break you off

I promise that you won't want to get off

If you're horny, let's do it

Ride it, my pony

My saddle's waiting

Come and jump on it

Why did someone definitely give someone a lap dance to it? Why did someone else definitely whinny in excitement, kicking the air with his front legs?

But on the real tip, as the kids (in 1988) say…

There’s a genuine AU to explore here and goddamn it. Now I’m thinking about it.

Centaur!Jacques (or Clyde or Kylo or whoever) has an aversion to humans, typical of his species. Humans fear and fetishize them, not entirely sure if they are real and go out of their way to hunt them. Magic folk classify them as beasts even though they are exceptionally powerful and intelligent. So they stay away from both.

Except, when he gets injured and captured by some unscrupulous wizards who deal on the black market in magical creatures, you notice strange activity in the forest near which you live and go investigating, only to find these scum and hex them out of existence.

You set the creatures free and work on healing the ones who are injured. Because he put up such a strong fight, the centaur is in critical condition, basically left by the magical poachers to die, but you are not having that.

When he comes to, he is horrified and tries to get away, but the other creatures assure him you didn’t hurt anyone. In any case, he is incapable of fleeing, but doesn’t trust you to work magic on him.

So you heal him the slow way. You use human methods of healing and put a splint on his hind legs, where he can’t reach.

You take him out on short, supervised walks so he doesn’t overexert himself and he is positively fuming for being under surveillance and having to listen to you.

One day, when he’s feeling good enough, he just disappears and runs off into the forest to rejoin his colony.

They look down on him for consorting with a human and don’t welcome him back.

He finds himself trotting around your cottage now and then, not sure why.

When the poachers return to get rid of you and plunder the forest, rich with magical creatures, he is near and returns the favor by helping you escape. It surprises him, but he doesn’t hesitate for a moment to let you ride him, even though he never would have imagined allowing himself to be debased by being ridden by any human.

Now, I still have questions. Can a centaur take human form or are we gonna have to cast an Extension Charm on our lady parts? (Capacious extremis indeed!)

What do our kids come out as?

And most importantly, why am I on the verge of busting out a plot for this bitch right here?

You cannot tell me this isn't centaur!Jacques!

#centaur!au #oh god what are we doing #centaur!Jacques le gris

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areiton · 4 years

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protecting what’s hers - pepperhony

I really love this post and wanted to explore the breakdown of Pepper's trust in the Avengers.

~*~

Read on AO3

~*~

The Rouges--what’s left of them--limp into the Compound, and she’s there.

She doesn’t look at them, not Steve looking older than he ever has, or Natasha, pale and trembling or even Bruce because he wasn’t there, he didn’t hurt them, but she will never forgive Bruce for running .

Heroes don’t run.

She burrows into Rhodey’s arms and they wrap around her, wrap her in the scent of sweat and metal and coconut oil and for the first time since the dust--she doesn’t feel like she’s coming apart.

~*~

They aren’t together.

She loves him.

She loves them.

And she leaves, packs her shit and takes Happy to the West coast, because it’s too much.

They are too much, loving them hurts and she--

She isn’t a hero.

She’s never been a hero.

She’s just a girl trying to keep up with a world that’s been bigger than her since before she stumbled into it on fake Louboutins.

She isn’t stumbling now, and her shoes aren’t fake, and the eyes of the world are on her and she leaves.

And then a building in Switzerland blows up and the world--her world--blows up with it.

~*~

She fucks Rhodey first.

It’s one night when they’re waiting on Tony, while he’s busy with a pair of twins or the headliner from the band they just left, or something--she forgets what because with Tony the details don’t really matter, there’s only an endless parade of expensive and beautiful and the only thing that’s constant is Rhodey, patient and steady, never wavering even when he’s called away by duty.

He’s patient and steady to Tony’s wild chaos, and it’s only after she’s been Tony’s PA for almost a year that she has to bail them out of jail because the pair of idiots strapped rockets to their goddamn cars and raced.

She fucks Rhodey first, while Tony is busy and his cock is big and thick inside her, stretching and filling her in ways she never imagined, his fingers nimble where they’re rubbing her clit, his voice steady and patient in her ear, filth and adoration and it’s that--the hot hungry thrusts and wicked pinch on her clit and his familiar steady voice pouring x-rated fantasies out--that makes her come.

~*~

She finds the cabin in the endless weeks of waiting.

There are a million things she could be doing--SI is reeling, the world is reeling, the dust hasn’t even settled, the Rouges are back and larger than life, Steve keeps trying to talk to her--and she sits in his bed, for days, hours ticking by as she looks at houses. She used to do this, when she was a little girl in her uncle’s cramped apartment, dream of a life she couldn’t reach, not then.

Then it was just a dream, as sweet and temporary as the butterscotch dissolving on her tongue.

Now--

Now she buys a house on a lake without blinking and the dream is that she’ll have her family there.

~*~

She gets pregnant a year after the Decimation, almost to the day. Tony holds her after she throws up, when she’s crying and his tears drip silent down on her hair.

“Rhodey should be here,” she whispers, and his arms tighten around her.

~*~

The first time she hears about the Avenger Initiative, there is still soot in her hair and she’s just fucked Tony for the first time. She’s still sore from it, her thighs red from his stubble, and they haven’t figured out what this is and how it’s going to work--but she’s waiting when he comes out of the warehouse, and his face is pale and wanting .

He only ever looks like that, when he looks at her and sometimes at Rhodey.

“What happened?” she asks, and he falls into her.

“They don’t want me,” he whispers.

Her grip on him tightens, protective and possessive.

“What did they say?”

He tells her-- Ironman yes, Tony Stark no-- and her heart soars and sinks.

They don’t want him , don’t want to take him from her, and she loves them for that.

She holds him when he shakes, and hides her relief in his hair.

~*~

She reaches the Compound and Rhodey is already in surgery, and Tony is standing where she stood, where she and Rhodey stood, after the Mandarin and Extremis, when Tony went under the knife and she thought for a second--for a brief beautiful moment--that Tony would be done, that her days of fear were over.

She shoves that thought aside and comes to a stop next to him, and his hand finds hers.

“Tell me,” she says, forcing steel into her voice because his hand is trembling in hers.

He does.

He tells her about the Accords and the bombing, about the kid and the fight and Rhodey falling .

He tells her he’s broken, that he’s paralyzed, that Rogers and Barnes got away.

He tells her he’s going to fix it.

“Boss,” FRIDAY says and she looks at him.

“Go,” she says, "End this. I'll stay with him."

He looks at her, gratitude bright in his eyes and she squeezes his hand and slips away as Natasha approaches.

~*~

Tony is different than Rhodey. He’s a force of nature, a chaotic storm. She thinks that will translate into bed, into a wild rough fuck that makes her ache. She’s hungry for it, if she’s honest with herself, a desperate hunger that fills her up and leaves her gasping.

It isn't like that, though. Rhodey is rough with her, treats her like an equal , all heavy hands and bruising mouth and thick cock.

Tony--Tony watches her with wide wide eyes, mouth open and hands reverent, and worships her.

Tony is different from Rhodey and she loves it.

~*~

"Can I talk to you, for a second?"

She looks up, brushes strawberry blonde hair out of her eyes and stares.

Steve looks beaten.

Steve looks whole.

"No," she says, soft. "No, I don't think so."

She turns, leaves, can hear Rhodey making excuses behind her. She's done making excuses.

~*~

Steve doesn't come to the hospital when Tony has surgery. She hears later that he's in Spain, chasing the Ghost.

Tony shrugs it off, but she sees it--the way hurt flashes in his eyes, sharp and stinging before he tucks it away and smiles.

She hates him, in that moment. Hates all of the team Tony has chosen to love, because they refuse to love him back.

~*~

She loves them, is the thing. Rhodey and Tony.

And they love her. It isn't really talked about. She's known Tony long enough to know that he and Rhodey fuck. So she isn't surprised, really, when she comes home and finds them together, Rhodey's hands in Tony's hair, his pretty cock in Tony's mouth.

Rhodey grins at her and nods at the strap-on. "Opened him up for you, pretty girl," he says and she smiles.

It's not the first time she's fucked Tony, but it's the first time Rhodey has played with her tits while she did, the first time Tony hung between them, shaking and begging, a beautiful mess.

After he swallows Rhodey's come, and she's fucked him to one orgasm, after Rhodey's hot mouth coaxed him to a second erection, she climbs on him, and Rhodey's tongue traces over her clit as she sinks down, brushes where Tony is filling her and it makes them moan, both, and she flips her hair back and rides him, Rhodey's hands on her clit and Tony's throat, Tony's cock filling her cunt and his pretty noises swallowed by down by Rhodey.

She falls asleep with Tony's cum slick on her thighs and Rhodey's fingers in her ass and both their arms around her.

~*~

"You're going with them," Tony says. Rhodey is holding him and Tony is--his voice is slurred, his hands are shaking, he is so weak it terrifies her because she's never seen him like this, not even right after Afghanistan.

She can still feel the icy fear that clutched her, when he threw the armor casing at Steve and collapsed at his feet, when she thought he'd made it home only to die, heart giving out from rage and grief.

"We have to try this," Rhodey says and Tony nods.

She doesn't look at him. She can't look at him.

She loves Rhodey, more than words can say--but she hates him for this.

She hates him for choosing the Avengers.

~*~

She protects Tony. That's been her job for so long she can't really remember what life was like before she protected Tony.

But she can't protect him from the people he invites into his life, can't protect him from the people who hurt him, careless with his heart.

He jokes about his heart condition, but she knows the truth--it is fragile and precious and easily hurt and she wants to protect it, protect him, from the whole goddamn world.

~*~

After Ultron and JARVIS, the Avengers leave. They were already broken, but Ultron shattered them, shattered the fragile trust between them.

She doesn't care. She reads the expense reports, the millions of dollars in relief SI diverts to the Maria Stark foundation, the millions they use to build and fund the compound. She goes home to Tony, a wreck of grief in the wake of JARVIS' death. She waits for them to reach out--Bruce or Steve or Fury.

Two weeks later, her phone rings and Steve's voice fills the line and she hopes.

He's calling about a quinjet for the team. All polite and patriotic and earnest and she realizes when she hangs up, that he never once asked about Tony.

She realizes them, definitively, that no one will.

~*~

"Ms Potts. Colonel Rhodes."

The AI is unfamiliar still, even after all this time. She supposes that leaving six months after JARVIS died didn't help accustom her to it.

She straightens and squeezes Rhodey's hand. It's been two days, since she arrived, since Tony left.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Boss, ma'am. His suit sent out a distress signal."

She stares at Rhodey for a heartbeat, torn between the men she loves, and a small voice says, "I can stay with Mr. Colonel Rhodes, ma'am."

She looks at the boy, bruises on his face and eyes wide and Rhodey says, "Tony trusts him."

She nods and kisses Rhodey quick and fierce.

She slips out of her heels in the hall, and runs.

~*~

Rhodey isn't with them, when Tony breaks down. When he sobs into her chest and tells her about Peter's last moments. They're alone in medical in a Compound that doesn't feel like home.

Rhodey, the steady patient one, the one who never faltered and never left, the only one she ever trusted with Tony's heart, isn't there.

She holds him and lets her own tears fall into his hair and she doesn't tell him that it's ok or that the fucking Avengers will undo it or anything at all. She just holds him, while he sobs and she hates Rhodey a little bit, for leaving them.

~*~

She loves Peter.

She thinks maybe it's impossible to not love Peter. Tony does, is helpless not to, even though she watches him try to keep distance between them.

She thinks he’s scared, scared to trust again after the Accords and the War and Siberia.

But Peter--Peter is sweet innocence and steely determination, and a goodness that she thinks Steve should have been but never was.

He stays by Rhodey while she retrieves Tony from Siberia, stays by her while Tony is put back together by Helen and Extremis, stays by Tony while he heals and even when he’s sent away--she and Rhodey frown at Tony for it, and he avoids them for days--he’s there , persistent and loyal and waiting, until Tony brings him home, and he stays , his grin shadowed by what they do, that thing she hates , but still sweet, still steady, still innocent.

~*~

“FRIDAY,” she says, when she finds him.

For a moment, she thinks he’s dead. He isn’t moving, a still cold form on the ground. She can’t move closer, can’t breath through her fear, and FRIDAY says, “He’s alive, ma’am.”

The suit keeps her on her feet, but the relief is so strong she’s dizzy with it, and she kneels at his side, wrapped in red and gold an Ironman, and he blinks up at her, his eyes unfocused.

“Did you come to my rescue?” he asks.

She did. She does. She thinks, fierce and protective, she always will.

~*~

She shows him the cabin, once he’s taken off his IV and can actually stand. She watches as he stares at it, patient.

“I won’t stay here, with them,” she says, and she doesn’t have to say who.

The world has ended, and she doesn’t care because her world came crashing down in a field in Germany, in a Siberian bunker, and this--this is just the wreckage of everyone else catching up. She’s done. She’s done.

“I won’t,” she says, and she doesn’t say--

She doesn’t say she’ll leave, even if he doesn’t.

She doesn’t say she’ll leave, even if it means leaving Tony and Rhodey.

She doesn’t say she thinks Rhodey is already gone.

Tony touches the screen with gentle, reverent fingers. “When can we leave?”

She smiles, and he grins, and for a moment, the world isn’t dusty and empty, and she can breath through the fury that lives in her heart. “The bots can be packed by morning,” she says. “And I don’t want to take anything else.”

His hand finds her, and he kisses it.

~*~

“You chose them,” she says, once. She’s pregnant, and Rhodey is in her bed again, but Tony is between them, asleep, the lines on his face deeper than ever, but like this, he is almost at peace. She wants so badly for him to be at peace.

“I chose the world, Pep,” he says, gently and she knows.

She does.

But.

“You left him,” she says carefully, “to follow Captain America. ”

Rhodey’s expression flickers, and she thinks he’ll try to explain it, the greater good, the immeasurable loss, the reason.

He doesn’t.

He’s quiet and she says, softly, “I love you, Rhodey. But I don’t know how to forgive that.”

~*~

Steve calls.

After Siberia, he calls. She answers, once, listens to him babble, excuses and shitty apologies, and finally, finally, begging her to talk to Tony.

She doesn’t say anything. She hangs up.

“FRIDAY,” she says, and her voice doesn’t shake and she is so damn proud her voice doesn’t shake. “Release the footage from Siberia. Make sure Tony never knows.”

The AI isn’t JARVIS--she’s young and viciously protective and very very much like Pepper herself.

She does what JARVIS would never do. She obeys Pepper’s order.

~*~

The first anniversary of the Decimation, she dresses in mourning black and heels, and stands next to Rhodey and Tony on a platform.

The rest of the Avengers--the ones who survived--are there, and Steve’s eyes find Tony, over and over, and her lips tighten.

She hasn’t spoken to him, since that morning right after, and not for years before that, but she can see the determination in his gaze, the way he’s gathering himself, and she thinks of that day, in Siberia, about Tony asking if she was there to rescue him, and of all the times she’s protected him before.

She thinks about the backlash of public fury the footage of Siberia caused, how they stripped Steve of his title, for a time.

Rhodey’s hand tightens on hers, and she squeezes it, before slipping away and calmly, easily, intercepting Captain America on his way to speak to Iron-man.

She smiles, pleasant and her eyes are icy and when she turns away, turns back to Tony, Steve doesn’t move to follow, or argue.

~*~

Rhodey stands between them and their cabin, the little world they’ve carved from the wreckage, and the Avengers.

She doesn’t realize it, not until she sees him sleeping on their couch, and his tablet blinking still, messages he’s answering, pleas for Tony’s tech and Ironman’s suit, and Tony --

She stares at it, for a long time.

The next night, when Morgan is sleeping, and Tony is waiting patiently for her, she leads him back to their bed and for the first time in three years, she sleeps between the men she loves.

~*~

The pundits, the talking heads, they call it immeasurable grief and loss.

She can, though. She can measure it.

It is Tony’s nightmares and Rhodey’s absence and the grief of Peter, a hole that can not be filled, not even with the laughing child they bring into the world.

It has a name and a measure and she knows the whole universe is aching, but wrapped around Tony, she doesn’t care . She wants to protect them, what is left of her world, always.

~*~

She hates it. The suits. Ironman and War Machine.

She hates it, and she understands it, because she wants to stand between them and the world, wants to wrap armor around her world and keep them safe.

She can’t. She can’t do that anymore than she can expect them to hang up the suits and live at her side.

~*~

Steve Rogers and Natasha and Scott Lang talk to Tony and she watches through the window as Tony pours them drinks and argues, watches Scott grow angry and loud.

“Who is that, Mama?” Morgan asks, all innocence and sweet and she smiles.

“They’re people who hurt Daddy,” she says.

Morgan frowns, and looks out the door, distress clear on her little features. She takes a breath, “Do you want to rescue him?”

~*~

She believed in it, once.

In the Avengers and SHIELD, in Captain fucking America.

That belief died, in the tears of a man left alone to his grief, and an empty waiting room and a broken lover and a shatter arc reactor and pale, bloodless lips.

She doesn’t believe anymore.

She only believes that they love her and she loves them, and she’ll do anything to keep them safe.

~*~

When the distress signals go out--she expects it. Just like she expected it, when Rogers and Romanov left empty handed, and Tony came to her, bright eyed and manic.

She knows them, knows him and she might hate the Avengers, might not ever be able to trust them--but Tony is better than her.

He always has been. It’s what she loves most about him.

It happens almost simultaneously, War Machine and Ironman and she looks down at their daughter, and smiles. It’s weak and she blinks back tears, but this--this is her only job. Protect her world.

She steps into Rescue and goes.

#arei writes fic #pepperhony #pepperony #rhodeytony #character study #not steve rogers friendly

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not-close-to-straight · 5 years

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Love Me Like You Do (Five)

IRONHUSBANDS MASTERLIST HERE

********************

(Manhattan, 2012)

James left the longest, angriest voicemail of his life the day the Chitauri invaded.

He had to call Tony’s phone back six times and keep yelling because he kept getting cut off, ranting and raving as he ran towards the jet that would take him to New York City, pulling every swear word in his rather considerable vocabulary and using them in new and inventive ways because Jesus Christ he had never been so angry that Tony had gone and done such a fool thing in his life, what in the ever lovin’ fuckin’ hell did he he think he was doing flying a goddamn bomb through a goddamn hole and would it kill him to pick up his fucking phone because in case Tony couldn’t tell, James was about two heartbeats from stroking out and dying of worry.

His phone chimed with an incoming text from Tony:

From Tones: Lol you’re so dramatic platypus. BRB eating shawarma :) :) :)

“Sir?” the stewardess looked fairly alarmed when James snapped his phone in half and threw the pieces on the floor. “Are you alright?”

“I am gonna kill the man myself and dance on his goddamn grave.” James muttered, flopping back in the chair and loosening his tie. “Get me a goddamn drink.”

*****************

Tony wasn’t okay after New York.

“Don’t tell Pepper.” Tony had muttered after his first semi public panic attack, curled in the corner of their booth in the restaurant, his face ashen and hands shaking. “She doesn’t know it’s this bad.”

“Don’t tell Pepper.” he said again after he had a breakdown over a child asking for an autograph and threw himself into the Iron Man Armour to have JARVIS check his vitals. “Okay just-- just-- I don’t want her to know how bad it is yet. She’d only worry.”

“And you’re fine with me worrying?” James asked after the fourth or fifth time, after Tony had called him in the middle of the night because he’d had a nightmare and called a suit and Pepper had woken up and screamed. “You don’t want her to worry, but you’re fine with me worrying?”

“You’ve been worrying about me for like, thirty years.” Tony said tiredly, and James could see on the phone screen how exhausted he was, the bags under his eyes and the tension in his jaw. “You’re used to the stress. Pepper’s not used to the stress of--”

“-- of loving you?” he cut in and Tony smiled for the first time in a long time.

“Right. Of loving me.”

James wasn’t willing to lie to Pepper so when she asked if he’d noticed Tony’s behavior, he told her the truth. He just left out the worse details-- the implants in Tony’s arm to call a suit anytime he needed, the panic attacks that were getting worse, the way Tony’s hands shook so badly when he got anxious that he couldn’t hold a glass anymore.

He left those parts out and made sure he was around more often to keep an eye on things and that-- that was more difficult than James expected it to be, being around their relationship.

Tony and Pepper were a beautiful couple, a well matched couple and the press loved them. Pepper was sweet and good and everything Tony needed and deserved and it wasn’t like James had ever really thought he and Tony would ride off into the sunset together as husbands or even actual romantic partners, but there had been a few years where he had thought maybe...

It was fine.

“It must be a little weird to see us together.” Pepper brought it up one day as she worked on new SI contracts for the Air Force. “After everything you and Tony have gone through?”

“No ma’am.” James replied easily, honestly. “I am more than happy to let you take over his bullshit. I put in my time, you can handle his shenanigans now.”

Pepper laughed and James laughed and he never said how it did funny things to his heart to see Tony smile at Pepper with the same sort of smile he’d always saved for James.

That smile meant it was real love, and every time James walked in them hugging or accidentally interrupted a kiss, that’s what he reminded himself. Real love.

It was fine.

*****************

(December)

Watching the Malibu mansion crumble off the cliff and into the sea made James’s heart stop, made him drop to his knees right there in the conference room and a few aides scrambled to help him but James pushed them away, unable to tear his eyes from the screen as Tony’s house disappeared into the ocean.

“Colonel Rhodes.” The President shook his shoulder gently. “Colonel Rhodes. Are you still with us?”

“I--I--”

His phone chimed then and James dug it out of his pocket without actually answering the President, still glued to the footage on the TV, breaking away only a split second to check the message.

It was a data sheet-- heart rate, blood pressure, a list of minor injuries and it took James no more than fifteen seconds to recognize it as a read out from the mask of the Iron Man armor. Vitals and status and direction headed east and oh that meant Tony was alive.

Son of a bitch, he was alive.

“I’m fine.” he put his phone away and stood smoothly to his feet, going from devastated to calmly put together in less than a few seconds. “Mr. President, I suggest you find me a list of targets. The Iron Patriot is ready and a little anxious to blow some shit up.”

Tony was alive and the data sheet that came to his phone updated every hour but James still felt like he needed a little vengeance so he dropped into the first target site with guns up and weapons ready, more than willing to blow the entire thing to kingdom come.

But it was a sweatshop full of women and children, screaming and crying at the sight of the obnoxiously painted suit landing in their midst and James had to mutter apologies as he blasted off again.

The next target was more of the same, and so was the one after that and the one after that. The Mandarin was making a damn fool of the Iron Patriot, of the entire United States and no doubt laughing about it and James was angry and confused enough to consider doing something really reckless--

-- and then his phone rang.

“Excuse me.” he said to the group of farmers he’d scared nearly to death, and then-- “Hello?”

“It’s me, pal.”

The Mandarin turned out to be a fake but Tony was live and well and standing right next to him at the house in Miami, tired and stumbling a little but smiling and determined so James squashed the urge to bitch slap the drunk actor sprawled on the divan and focused on the mission instead.

And Tony stared at him with something akin to hero worship in his eyes as they snuck aboard the container ship at the docks and wow did James miss his suit, but he also sort of loved Tony looking at him like that so maybe he showed off a little, letting the Colonel come forward enough to take charge of the mission and stack up a body count as they moved to save the President.

“You’re amazing.” Tony said as yet another baddie took a plunge. “Do you know that?”

“Oh I’m aware.” James retorted and Tony laughed and damn if that wasn’t the best sound he’d ever heard in his life.

Pepper full of Extremis was a sight to behold, beautiful and terrifying and scary in a way that told James things were going to change and maybe not for the better, but Tony muttered a very quiet, very snarky joke about redheads and their temper to James before dropping everything and running to hold her so James let them be and went to oversee clean up.

It was weird to see so many suits exploding in the sky, months and months of obsessive work and so many millions of dollars ripping apart as Tony set them to self destruct but Pepper hugged him tight and Tony was smiling while he watched and James didn’t say anything about it.

Maybe now when Tony said ‘I’m okay’, maybe he’d actually mean it and maybe he’d get that happily ever after with Pepper he deserved.

********************

(2015)

James wasn’t expecting visitors at nearly two am, and he certainly wasn’t expecting to see Tony standing at his doorway wearing nothing but pajamas and holding a pillow but he pulled him inside anyway and turned on a few lights.

Tony didn’t say anything at all, slumping into the kitchen chair and staring blankly at nothing while James made a cup of coffee and set it down, retrieving a blanket from the living room and putting it around Tony’s shoulders.

They sat in silence for a long time until Tony took in a deep, shuddering breath and let a few tears fall.

“She’s gone?” James asked and Tony nodded.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Tony asked and James nodded and that was all they said before leaving the kitchen and heading towards the bedroom, curling up together in James’s king sized bed and huddling close for the first time since-- since--

--well James didn’t remember the last time he and Tony had shared a bed. Maybe since right after Afghanistan? After Obadiah? He couldn’t remember but it had been years and years and yet they fit right back together like they always had and he placed a very gentle kiss on Tony’s forehead when the tears came harder.

“Can we talk in the morning?” Tony whispered and James whispered back, “We’ll talk in the morning, Tones. Sleep now, I’ve got you.”

*********************

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*********************

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#ncts fics #ironhusbands #rhodeytony #tony stark #james rhodey rhodes #pepper potts

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explodingcrenelation · 5 years

Text

Tony Stark and the Messianic Archetype in Avengers: Endgame

* * * * * S P O I L E R S ahead for Avengers: Endgame * * * * *

From a purely analytical standpoint, I don’t have anything against Tony’s character arc in Endgame culminating with his death. His last moments in the heat of battle weren’t rushed, poorly written, or unearned. If Tony Stark was going to die on screen, of course he’d do it like a goddamn badass—and he did.

At this point Marvel is telling a single story to millions upon millions of people and there’s no way they can craft a narrative to suit every single person. When I say Tony's death didn’t work for me, I do so knowing that Marvel wasn’t writing the story for me anyway. And I'm not trying to disparage the creative team's efforts and storytelling choices. They made a call. I don’t agree it was the right one.

For me, Tony’s death traps him inside a Messianic Archetype that doesn’t elevate his character in a wholly satisfying way and doesn’t fit the themes of the established, team-centric universe. In this essay I will…

…actually write a fucking 4000-word essay, so buckle up and read on if you’re in for the ride.

What Is the Messianic Archetype?

The Messianic Archetype is a messiah trope. It’s exactly what it sounds like—one person (usually (but not always) white, usually (but not always) male) who sacrifices themselves for the greater good.

Here’s how TV Tropes puts it:

In media, the Messianic Archetype is a character whose role in the story (but not necessarily personality) echoes that of Christ. They are portrayed as a savior, whether the thing they are saving is a person, a lot of people or the whole of humanity. They endure a sizable sacrifice as the means of bringing that salvation about for others, a fate they do not deserve up to and including death or a Fate Worse than Death. Other elements may be mixed and matched as required but the Messianic Archetype will include one or more of the following:

- The Chosen One. - True Companions who follow him. - Betrayal by one of those followers. - Persecution by nonbelievers. - Crucified Hero Shot (or other parallels to the Passion Play). - Figurative or literal resurrection. - A Second Coming. - The initials JC.

Some examples of Messianic Archetypes in popular narratives are: Gandalf in Lord of the Rings, Spock in Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan (or Kirk in Star Trek: Into Darkness), Harry Potter in The Deathly Hallows, Superman in Batman vs Superman, or Neo in the Matrix trilogy. The Doctor in Doctor Who is frequently and repeatedly presented as a messiah figure. Multiple incarnations of Sherlock also follow suit in multiple imaginings of the the Reichenbach Falls scenario. (I won’t go into details with any of these characters. I trust the Messianic Archetypes here are obvious to anyone familiar with these stories.)

In the Marvel Cinematic Universe itself, we see Messianic Archetypes popping up all over the place—like daisies! Steve plays this part when he sacrifices himself in The First Avenger to stop Red Skull's plan to bomb several major American cities. His time in the ice is a kind of death from which he is subsequently “resurrected” in modern day New York. To a lesser extent, he also offers himself up as a sacrifice to save Bucky in The Winter Soldier.

T’Challa follows this pattern in Black Panther when he’s betrayed by W’Kabi, defeated by Killmonger, and subsequently resurrected within the safety of M’Baku’s tribe.

In the first Thor movie, Thor is betrayed by Loki, sacrifices himself to the Destroyer to protect his human friends, and he comes back from near-death with the return of Mjölnir, having proven himself worthy of the hammer.

Carol Danvers destroys Mar-Vell’s engine in Captain Marvel to keep enemies from getting their hands on tech that could harm millions of innocent people. Her human life symbolically ends in the subsequent explosion, and she’s effectively reborn with superpowers.

Pepper Potts is betrayed by her former colleague Killian in Iron Man 3, selected as his “chosen one” for the Extremis injection, and she dies and is reborn from fire.

Yondu in Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 2—

Well, I could go on for a long time, but... you get the idea.

The Messianic Archetype isn’t particularly new to popular media, let alone the MCU.

This trope is deeply, almost subconsciously, woven into the fabric of popular western storytelling. There's nothing inherently wrong with that. Tropes are tropes for a reason—they speak to us on a cultural and instinctual level. We want to hear these stories over and over, replay them in new ways and look at them from different angles precisely because there is something meaningful in the narrative.

And Tony Stark's narrative is no exception. His repeated acts of self-sacrifice fit into the Messianic Archetype very, very well.

Proof That Tony Stark Has a Heart

The MCU kicked off in 2008 with the first Iron Man movie and Tony Stark has ostensibly been the main character of the franchise from the beginning.

The Iron Man movies establish early on that Tony has a savior complex to match the size of his ego. Our genius playboy billionaire philanthropist is a deeply flawed hero who started out his career as a maker of WMDs. He was widely known as “The Merchant of Death” before he saw the error of his ways. Tony understands he has done many Bad Things and he must atone for those Bad Things—with his life, if necessary.

“I shouldn’t be alive, unless it was for a reason. ... I finally know what I have to do and I know in my heart that it’s right.” —Tony Stark, Iron Man

The first Iron Man movie climaxes with Tony ordering Pepper to blow the Arc Reactor to stop Stane’s rampage, even though Tony might perish in the process. In Iron Man 2, Tony is actively dying from palladium poisoning, but he faces down Vanko (sans Iron Man suit) on the speedway of the Monaco Historic Grand Prix. In the first Avengers movie, we see Tony put his life on the line to get a nuclear weapon out of New York.

This is a repeated pattern for Tony, and like an addict, it’s one he struggles to break. Over and over Tony flings himself into the fray, believing he’s the one who makes the difference—he’s the willing sacrifice whose blood saves the world.

Tony selects himself to be “the chosen one” because he sees himself as the one at fault for bringing evil into the world.

“We create our own demons. Who said that? What does that even mean? Doesn’t matter, I said it cause he said it. ...So why am I telling you this? Because I had just created demons, and I didn’t even know it.” —Tony Stark, Iron Man 3

Iron Man 3 shows us just how deeply responsible Tony feels for the wrongs of the world. Because he made naive (and selfish) mistakes when he was young, Tony blames himself for creating villains that plague the earth now.

We see this best in the aftermath of the destruction of Tony’s mansion in Malibu.

“Pepper, it’s me. I’ve got a lot of apologies to make and not a lot of time. So first off, I’m so sorry I put you in harm’s way. That was selfish and stupid and it won’t happen again. ...And I’m sorry in advance because I can’t come home yet. I need to find this guy. You got to stay safe. That’s all I know.” —Tony Stark, Iron Man 3

Yes, Tony absolutely provoked the Mandarin, a known terrorist, and the result is the complete annihilation of Tony’s home. Tony accepts responsibility for the destruction as though he was the one who shot the missiles himself. He goes so far as to volunteer himself for a solo mission to find the Mandarin without even bothering to contact SHIELD or the Avengers for help. He made this mess, he’s going to clean it up. All the while he suffers through crippling anxiety and panic attacks, demonstrating that the burden he’s put on his own shoulders is, in fact, too much for him to handle by himself. Still, Tony denies himself the comforts of home and family until he can atone for his wrongdoings.

Miraculously, Iron Man 3 gives Tony a respite when the tables are turned and, for once, Tony is the one ultimately saved by Pepper. After her rescue (pun intended), Tony gives up the armor, commits to having the shrapnel taken out of his chest, and he starts rebuilding the literal ruins of his life—both physical and metaphorical.

The respite doesn’t last, of course, because recovery doesn’t go in a straight line—oh, and also the franchise isn’t over and the MCU kinda needs Iron Man. And so Tony slides back into familiar, self-destructive patterns.

"Few years ago, I almost lost [Pepper], so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to muck up Hydra. And then Ultron. My fault. And then, and then, and then. I never stopped. 'Cause the truth is, I don't wanna stop.” —Tony Stark, Civil War

Tony taking on the mantle of the Messianic Archetype once more in Endgame falls perfectly in line with his established need to compulsively and perpetually atone for his sins. As a perfectionist who needs to assuage his guilt for his ongoing (and perceived) failures, Tony simply can’t stop himself from offering up his life in penance. Statistically it was bound to catch up with him, and in Endgame it does.

And not only does Tony give his life in true Messianic fashion, we are “treated” to a hyper-realistic and painfully extended sequence where his life drains out of him as his loved ones gather to witness him gasping out his last breath. (Thanks for that, by the way, Marvel. I’ll put this scene with the dead baby bunnies my childhood cat used to bring home as gifts. How thoughtful.)

Maybe the reason for the intensity of Tony’s death scene is to make the audience believe his death is the Real Thing, not some comic-book-superhero-movie trickery that he’ll be back from in a few minutes’ time. Perhaps it’s the only way to ensure we commit to the emotional depth of the moment. Perhaps the filmmakers see it as an homage to RDJ’s acting talent and commitment to the role. Regardless of the rationale behind the camera’s unflinching gaze, Tony’s excruciating death hammers home the brutal and lonely reality of the Messianic Archetype: it’s cruel to put the fate of the world on one person’s shoulders.

But Tony embraces that end. He throws himself into the machinery of fate, convinced he’s the cog that will make it all work.

And he does make it work.

So why is that a problem?

The Team-Oriented Universe

The problem with Tony doubling (tripling? quadrupling?) down on the Messianic Archetype at the apex of the franchise is that the MCU is an ensemble, team-oriented universe.

“You think you're the only superhero in the world? Mr. Stark, you've become part of a bigger universe, you just don't know it yet." —Nick Fury, Iron Man

Fury tells us from the get-go that Tony isn’t the be-all-end-all of the MCU. It’s possible for Tony—for them all—to become something greater than the sum of their parts.

“There was an idea, Stark knows this, called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more.” —Nick Fury, Avengers

The entire first Avengers movie is dedicated to establishing this premise, to getting these knuckleheads to work together because, alone, they’re too wrapped up in their own bullshit to adequately deal with the forces that threaten the planet. Things don’t start to go right for them until they set aside their personal issues and act as a unit.

As we all know, our team passes the test and they establish an important principle of the MCU: teamwork is powerful and it’s more effective than working solo.

True, Tony’s self-sacrifice in the context of the Battle of New York helps save the day; but it’s only one part of a coordinated effort. Tony chucking the nuke into space would have been pointless without the added efforts of Steve to coordinate civilian safety, Hawkeye to relay enemy movements, Thor to separate Loki from the scepter, Natasha to close the portal, and Hulk to subdue Loki and ultimately catch Tony as he fell from the wormhole. The team achieved a better outcome together than they each could have achieved separately.

But even in the shared afterglow of winning the Battle of New York, the individual members of the team struggle to perfect their dynamic. New challenges present themselves. There’s always room for the team to grow and become stronger together as the franchise progresses. That’s the whole point.

Tony, for his part, waffles back and forth between his desire to be the savior mechanic (to fix everything by himself) and his desire to work cooperatively with his found-family of superheroes for the common good. This internal conflict plays out over the course of the franchise as Tony takes on the Mandarin by himself in Iron Man 3. The issue then escalates in Age of Ultron when Tony convinces Bruce to help him create Ultron, unbeknownst to the rest of the team. Murder-bot problems and team drama ensue. Tony’s cycle of guilt perpetuates itself in the wake of the disaster in Sokovia, which prompts Tony to adopt the Sokovia Accords. He submits himself and the team to UN governance in Civil War. More team drama ensues.

The logical progression of this escalating team conflict should have involved Tony confronting his deep-seated compulsion to destroy himself for the sake of others. This is exactly the problem Pepper keeps trying to point out to him—his Messianic tendencies have started to cause more problems than they solve.

“There is nothing except this. ... There's the next mission, and nothing else.” —Tony Stark, Iron Man

Tony has struggled from the beginning to find the right balance between personal sacrifice and sharing team effort.

Pepper frequently tries to remind Tony that he doesn’t live alone in the world, he can’t do it all by himself. And there are people who want him to live.

“You’re all I have, too, you know.” —Pepper Potts, Iron Man

Imagine how emotionally satisfying it would have been to see Tony outgrow his need for sacrificial penance and internalize a better lesson: that the savior can be saved, the burden can be shared, and life can go on.

A Better Ending for Tony

The MCU had the perfect opportunity to give us an ending that would be happier for Tony and a better fit for a team-centric universe.

In Guardians of the Galaxy we see Peter Quill and his team survive the power of an Infinity Stone by working together to share the burden of its energy.

Peter Quill is the son of a Celestial—he’s basically immortal up until the end of Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 2. That’s why he and his team could hold the stone without any ill effects.

Also, they only had to channel the power of one stone. Not six.

That’s a fair point.

But by the time Tony had all of the Infinity Stones in Endgame, the battlefield was chock full of all kinds of superheroes. Wanda and Carol by themselves are embodiments of two of the Infinity Stones. Hulk had managed to bear all of the stones by himself earlier in the movie. Steve, T’challa, and Bucky are enhanced super soldiers. Thor, Valkyrie, and the other Asgardians might not be Celestials, but they are gods—and there were a lot of them on that field.

And we’re supposed to believe none of these characters could offer any help to Tony whatsoever? None of them could hold Tony’s hand for a single minute to save his life?

There are plenty of arguments that could be made: Tony was too fast, no one knew what was happening, or everyone else was occupied in battle. But at the end of the day, it’s a choice the creative team made. Tony died because they wanted him to die.

And not much would have to change to save his life.

Imagine this: Tony gets the stones from Thanos and, in true Messianic Archetype fashion, he commits to making the snap, fully expecting it means his death—but then Pepper is there and Pepper has always been the one asking Tony to stop offering up his life to pay for some imaginary debt he thinks he owes. He hesitates, and it’s just long enough for Carol and Wanda swoop in, putting their hands on him and taking the brunt of the energy. Thor and Steve and Bruce and Clint pile on. Peter Parker links up, too, and on and on until the entire rest of the team, all across the battlefield, are in contact with each other and alight with power, channeling the energy of the six stones, keeping Thanos and his monsters at bay.

Tony can still have his ultra-badass “I am Iron Man” moment as he stands at the center of this surging and fluxing cosmic energy—but this time he does it with support. There are people who care about him (and each other) on all sides. And there are so many of them. Tony isn’t the only one who matters, he’s just the lynch pin that holds it all together.

Tony is Iron Man.

More importantly? Together they’re all the Avengers.

*SNAP*

The universe is set right.

Maybe Tony doesn’t escape entirely unscathed. Maybe he loses his arm as suggested by this post. Maybe the others all leave with their own scars, too. But Tony’s alive and he’s finally, deeply aware of what it means to transcend the limits of personal sacrifice and share the hero’s burden with others.

He knows now exactly what the Avengers are capable of. Oh, and by the way? That protective shield he wanted around the world in Age of Ultron? Here they all are. All these wonderful, powerful people are going to protect the Earth. And you know what? They don’t need Tony Stark’s myopic self-sacrifice to do it.

Tony finally feels like he’s done enough—and maybe now he believes there are other heroes out there who can do better than he can. Anyway, he gets to go home to Morgan and Pepper and he finds that it’s not so hard for him to let the new kids do the tough jobs now. He happily goes back to his role as “consultant” for the Avengers, he’s a mad inventor helping change the world for the better, and he also gets to have the long adventure of being a husband and a dad. He doesn’t have to choose one identity over the other—he’s Iron Man. He can redefine what the job means whenever he wants to.

(Also, he finds a way to rescue Nat because she didn’t deserve to be fridged like that. Just saying.)

This ending, or any number of variations like it, would have allowed Tony to finally show real growth at the end of his character arc, instead of succumbing to the same old self-destructive pattern we've seen from him time and time again. And it would have reinforced the theme of teamwork and its power to elevate all those who participate.

Maybe it’s cheesy, but you know what? It’s the ending I wanted. I know I’m not alone.

Tony’s Not Really Dead, You Say?

“There’s no need to be upset about Tony’s death,” some might say. “Tony’s gonna come back!”

Resurrection is a huge part of the Messianic Archetype—and it might be that the filmmakers do intend to bring Tony back in some later movie. It might be they simply want Tony’s death in Endgame to sit a little while longer so it has a greater impact. (Gotta push for that best picture Oscar, right? The Oscars hate superhero movies, but they do love a sad ending.)

While I’m wishing for things, maybe Marvel will also release the multiple alternate endings they filmed for Endgame, essentially creating a “choose your own adventure.” Maybe we’ll all be able to pick the ending we like best and forget the rest exist.

But I can’t make a judgement based on what might be, I can only say how I feel based on what we were given in the theater—for all intents and purposes, that’s the official story Marvel wants to share.

The Endgame narrative insists there’s only one possible path to victory against Thanos. The “one possible path” is basically the equivalent of the creative team saying, “Don’t @ me.” There certainly must have been an impossible number of endings they could have put on film. Tony’s death is the one they picked.

So, sorry for @ing you, Marvel, I guess, but there’s just one more point I want to make...

A Personal Note

RDJ acted the hell out of Tony's final scene. He acted the hell out of the whole franchise. Tony's death was powerful and intensely moving. I wanted to ugly cry in the lobby after the movie was over, and I was upset for days after.

So. Good job, Marvel. You got in some surprises and you wrung out some feelings from viewers like me. Now that the movie’s taken the world by storm, the surprises will play themselves out. So, I guess the big question is: Will audiences want to revisit this adventure and the feelings you ultimately left them with?

For me? My reluctant answer is: no. I don’t want to see Infinity War or Endgame again. Not really. Not in their entirety. I didn’t mind the slog through Infinity War in 2018 because I thought, Hey, maybe this is leading to an ultimately happy and satisfying conclusion for these characters I care about so much. And, to be fair—right up until the last 15 minutes of Endgame, I was ready to say, “All’s forgiven.”

There’s this thing in storytelling called “payoff.” It’s when you deliver a satisfying resolution or fulfillment to your audience after they commit to your narrative journey. Payoff can be extraordinarily subjective, so, again, I acknowledge that there’s no way to please everyone.

For me, there’s no reward in the resolution of Endgame that makes the slog to its conclusion worth it. Tony’s ending is so needlessly sacrificial, so unnecessarily brutal, that it erases much of the enjoyment I otherwise had in watching the entire rest of the film.

Don’t get me wrong. I like sad movies and scary movies in their own context. I like them when I can choose them and know that’s what I'm getting myself into. Sometimes I want the catharsis of being utterly terrified or brought to tears. Sometimes we need stories to give us the chance to feel deep and scary emotions in a safe environment. That’s an important function of creative work.

And, I mean, truly, Endgame gave us some great acting, great effects. Amazing talent. Really fun and creative moments. I’m not trying to disparage all the work that went into its making.

But I feel like someone took me in a limo to a high-class restaurant to eat caviar and watch sad arthouse theater when all I really wanted was to go into town with my friends for some ice cream and a fun movie.

I didn’t need rainbow-colored sprinkles on my ending, but something a bit sweeter would have been nice. So, well done, Marvel. But also—no, thank you.

As it stands, Endgame was too bitter for my taste.

#avengers #endgame #spoilers #negativity #long post #meta #my rambling #tony stark #iron man

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stormquill · 5 years

Text

debt-free | chapter ten [Tony Stark/Reader]

You tasted like coffee and faded lip gloss; he tasted like vodka and day-old despair.

In which an unexpected late-night rendezvous at your University library ends up with you in way over your goddamn head.

Credits: Beta'd by @l0kt0n. Follow the blog / AO3 mirror @debt--free.

Somehow, you thought ‘safehouses’ were supposed to be inconspicuous.

Though nowhere near as grandiose as Stark’s home in Malibu, the place you’d taken temporary refuge could still house a family of twelve quite comfortably. The elegant outdoor landscaping and impeccable interior design made the building feel more like a four-star hotel than covert asylum, but you figured it made sense—if Stark had to go into hiding, he’d be doing it in style.

You and Hansen sat across from each other, a small table and two untouched coffees between you. You both looked little worse for wear, but you’d been lucky to escape the day’s events with nothing more than a handful of scrapes and bruises. Stark wasn’t looking much better himself, but unlike the two of you, he was on his feet and moving, pacing around the room with all the patience of an anxious cat; you could practically hear the gears grinding in his head, processing everything Hansen had confessed about Killian and their company on the car ride over.

It was strange to think that, less than a couple of hours ago, you were leaving the hospital with Stark, having successfully convinced him to take a break and let you handle the meeting with Hansen.

Five henchmen and one destroyed cafe later, you knew he must have been regretting that decision.

“So the Mandarin is using your Extremis for his attacks?” Stark asked.

“Yeah,” said Hansen. “Those bombings? That’s exactly what happens when you let it get unstable enough.”

“Incendiary devices leave remnants. A million-acre forest fire can be tracked down to a single lit cigarette—it’s forensics, it’s a science. That means there’s evidence at the theater explosion. Something I can use to connect the attacks back to AIM.”

“You won’t find any evidence. Just like they wouldn’t have found any at any of the other sites.”

“Yeah, why’s that?”

“Extremis isn’t just some incendiary device, like a bomb or a flare, it’s.” She folded her arms and shifted in her seat. “It’s a form of genetic manipulation. It needs a living host for the thermodynamic hypercharge to work. If the host can control it, Extremis can give them regenerative abilities, enhance their physical performance—but if the host can’t control it...”

Stark made a comical explosion noise.

She shut her eyes and winced away from him, as if the thought alone made her sick. “Point is, the Mandarin is weaponizing my tech to make super-soldiers and living bombs, tech Killian just handed to him on a silver platter. And I don’t know what I can do.”

Keeping silent, you’d watched the two of them go back and forth since Stark started his pseudo-interrogation. Still fueled by outrage over Hogan’s incident, Stark was looking for information, for inconsistencies, for anything he could use as an excuse to get out there and track down the perpetrators. Hansen, on the other hand, was wondering if seeking help was worth the trouble if all they were going to do was talk in circles.

The entire situation was way above your paygrade—but the gears in your head were turning, too.

“You said Extremis is a form of genetic manipulation,” you spoke up. “How is it administered, exactly? Radiotherapy?”

Hansen turned back to you, blinking the weariness from her eyes to try and refocus on your conversation. “Uh—no, intravenous. It’s an intravenous agent.”

“So it works like a virus? Enters the bloodstream, attacks the brain, creates a biochemical reaction.”

“More or less.”

“Then, hypothetically,” you straightened up, “you could develop a vaccine for it.”

The suggestion gave her pause. “I don’t know, maybe? I haven’t gotten anywhere with Extremis’s development in over a decade, I’m not sure how plausible it is to try reverse-coding a half-finished product.”

“I think I might be able to help.”

Your words had gotten both Stark and Hansen’s attention.

You cleared your throat, mulling the words over in your head to make sure you got them right. “If Extremis evokes a thermodynamic reaction that accelerates cellular function, reversing it means causing mass cellular deceleration, which...just so happens to be the unwanted byproduct of my current experimentation.”

The sudden light of inspiration in your eyes now sparked in hers. “You can’t maintain neurogenesis because of entropic decay.”

“And entropic decay is exactly what you need to reverse Extremis’s unstable effects,” you continued. “Obviously, the numbers will need major tweaking, and we’ll need to run some tests—”

“We’ll need samples,” Hansen agreed, shuffling forward in her chair. “There’s not enough time to recreate Extremis from scratch, not with the Mandarin’s recent threats.”

“Where would we get those?”

“Closest AIM headquarters would be in Houston, but...you don’t understand, Killian’s got eyes everywhere—if we hop on a plane, o—or a bus, he’ll see us coming from miles away.”

“Honey,” Stark interrupted, rather loudly, “can I speak to you in private for a moment?”

You were so wrapped up in your discussion with Hansen, you’d forgotten Stark was even there.

His request took you by surprise, but you followed his lead down the hallway. The way Hansen watched in confusion as the two of you disappeared around a corner did not escape your notice.

You entered the room, and shut the door behind you.

Segments of Mark 42 had been disassembled and spread across the floor for post-battle diagnostics. Toeing around the maze of parts, Stark reached the nearby couch, and lazily straddled the armrest. He stretched an arm out in front of him; one of the suit’s gloves flew across the room and attached itself to his hand like a magnet, red and silver metal spreading across his fingers and up his entire forearm.

“Haven’t seen that trick before,” you said, impressed.

“Neat, right? Had to bring the baby—he’s the only one who’d fit in your trunk.”

A mass of images projected themselves from his forearm panel, drowning the room’s ambient lighting with the bright blue glow of various interfaces. Stark gestured through the windows and touch screens, navigating the arrays of diagrams and news articles filling the room around him, his attention maneuvering quickly from one set of panels to the next.

“What are you thinking, doc?” he asked, without looking at you.

“About what?”

“About Maya.”

“I want to help her, if I can.” You made your way over and sat by his side, folding up your legs off the floor. “I mean, having the worst, most volatile parts of your research stolen by a bunch of power-hungry men and used in terrorist attacks? That...fucking sucks.”

“So you trust her?”

“You don’t?”

He clicked his tongue. “Just feels like there’s something she’s not telling us.”

Falling silent, you watched as he conducted his wordless research. Hansen hadn’t given you any reason not to trust her—but in Stark’s world, you realized that must have been tragically naive.

“What do you think we should do, then?” you asked. “Send her back to Killian?”

“No, but I don’t know if getting you involved in this is the greatest idea.”

“I’m already involved. I was involved the moment I went to meet her instead of you.”

“That was a mistake,” he snapped. “I should’ve never let do you that, I should’ve never—”

“You didn’t let me do anything,” you shot back. “We’re both adults—we made a decision, together, and like it or not, here we are.”

“I definitely don’t have to like it. And I definitely don’t have to sit quiet while you hand over your life’s work to someone you just met two hours ago.”

The words took you by surprise.

Stark was worried about you, of course he was, but he was also worried about the integrity of your research—and his concern made sense. At the heart of it all, he was a fellow scientist who’d been with you every step of the way—from your University research proposal, to your doctoral thesis, to the months upon months of sleepy, unproductive nights filled with failed experiments and paperwork to nowhere. He was just as invested in your work as you were.

And he didn’t want to see you compromised.

“I’m not like you, Mr. Stark,” you said. “I’m not a genius in any sense of the word. I don’t have a lot of things to offer.”

“That’s not—”

“You know what I mean,” you interrupted. Fishing for compliments wasn’t what you were aiming for, here. “My research...hasn’t gone anywhere. It hasn’t gone anywhere in a while, and I’ve been worrying a lot about whether or not I’m wasting my time. But Doctor Hansen—she’s been working on this one project for over ten years. That’s how much faith she has in it. In herself. Maybe I have something she needs. Maybe she knows something I don’t. You know my work almost as well as I do, Mr. Stark—if you think any part of my research can help her, I need you to let me try.”

Though he continued staring at the projected screens ahead of him, you could already read the answer in his expression.

Leaning up, you gently cradled a hand against his cheek, turning him to face you properly.

“You have to let me try,” you whispered.

“...you know, the last time I took your advice, you got a cafe blown up.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That cafe would’ve blown up with or without me there and you know it.”

“Crazy things happen once these suits get involved, sweetheart. It’s going to be dangerous.”

“I’m in a relationship with you, it comes with the territory.”

He smirked, softly.

And then his lips were on yours.

It felt like it had been ages since you’d last done this, but he kissed you, hard, and the contact set your nerves alight, just as it did every time.

He touched his forehead to yours, resigned, the worry weighing heavy in his eyes.

You rested another kiss against the side of his nose. “Stop thinking you have to do everything on your own. You’re not alone, remember?”

Realization dawned across his face like a new day.

Stark righted himself on the couch arm, clearing away the projections with an impatient swipe of his hand before replacing them a number pad and hitting speed-dial.

Before you could register what was happening, a video display appeared in the air as someone picked up the line.

The man on the other end glanced at Stark, then at you, and already looked exhausted.

“Evening, Colonel,” you said, sheepishly.

“Hi, Doctor. Tony. What’s up?”

Stark’s tone was clear and deliberate. “I have it on very good authority that your buddies over at Advanced Idea Mechanics have something to do with the Mandarin attacks.”

“Oh yeah, what authority?”

“An AIM executive told me so. She’s my hostage now, by the way—you sure you still don’t want me in on this?”

“Are you serious right—” With a loud, frustrated groan, Rhodes rubbed a hand over his face. “I told you, I am not in charge of this operation anymore.”

“But you’re second-in-charge, right? That’s almost as good.”

“Look, just because you can piss all over protocol, that doesn’t mean the rest of us can get away with it scott-free. There’s a chain of command—I cannot be discussing this with you on my own.”

“Well, not with that attitude.”

“I’m bringing him in.”

Stark’s face fell. “Wait, what?”

“You haven’t given me a choice, Tony.”

“Wait wait wait—nonononono—”

But the line was already dialing.

A second video screen appeared next to Rhodes. Bright blue eyes and short blonde hair came into view—a handsome face, boyish but strong, and trustworthy in a way you couldn’t quite explain. The man seemed out of breath as he answered the call; you could see a punching bag behind him, and a gleam of sweat on his brow.

You couldn’t have stopped yourself if you trIed. “Holy shit, it’s Captain America!”

Still catching his breath, Rogers gave you an impossibly charming smile. “Evening, ma’am.”

Meanwhile, Stark’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull. “Yeah—she’s easily impressed, don’t read too much into it—can we focus, here?”

“Captain Rogers,” Rhodes started, “Tony here’s captured an AIM executive who says the company’s dealing with the Mandarin.”

“What—you’ve taken an AIM rep hostage? Is this a civilian we’re talking about? Is that her?”

Rogers pointed at you with a boxing-wrapped hand. Your brain shorted out and you waved back, nervously.

Rhodes had a smile in his voice. “No, Captain, that’s Tony’s girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Smirking, Rogers offered you a nod. “My condolences, ma’am.”

“Watch it,” Stark warned.

“So you mean to say you brought two civilians into my investigation without my knowledge?”

“Sure did, mom. Hey—could you let me explain before you jump down my throat, maybe? The two of you might learn something.”

Rhodes looked as exasperated as always, but Rogers kept his patience, his composure clearly tempered by many past experiences with Stark.

“We’re listening.”

“The AIM exec is an old friend of mine who came to me for help, Dr. Maya Hansen. She says it’s their tech behind the bombings. There’s been three of them so far, right?”

“Only three have been made public. There’s actually been—”

“—nine attacks worldwide.” Stark brought up a holographic projection of a globe; certain areas around the world were marked with a bright red glow. “I found out the Mandarin attacks have a distinct heat signature—a very balmy 3000 degrees. Not many natural phenomena match the time frames and radii of impact from the Chinese Theater bombing. Why haven’t the other six been made public?”

“We’re trying not to cause a panic,” said Rhodes. “Especially since we don’t know how he’s doing it. We’re calling them bombings, but none of the fire investigations have turned up remnants of explosive devices.”

“It’s because he’s using people as bombs. Not suicide bombers—people injected with some kind of performance-enhancement virus, something that blows them up if it runs too hot. ”

“...you’re kidding.”

“Dr. Hansen told you this?”

Stark nodded. “Mandarin’s associated with the Ten Rings, same guys who threw me in a cave and wanted me to build things for them. Weapons of mass destruction are their bread and butter. Looks like they finally got their hands on something big.”

Rogers nodded again. “Any leads?”

“AIM has a global network with two headquarters in North America, Houston and Miami. Both good places to start digging.”

“And the third?”

“There’s a tenth heat signature that matches the profile, but predates all recent Mandarin attacks. It was marked as a suicide bombing, in some backwater town in Tennessee. I’m thinking it was ground zero. Might be worth checking out.”

“Understood. Colonel Rhodes will stay at his post with the President and continue trying to isolate the source of the Mandarin’s broadcast. I’ll investigate places of interest and get back to you with what I find.”

“Got it, Captain.”

“If you give me ten minutes, I can. Y’know.” Stark made little typing motions. “Sneak into AIM’s databases, save you guys some time.”

“You’ve done enough,” said Rogers. “Dr. Hansen is a person of interest in this investigation, and you’ve somehow managed to get your girlfriend involved. Your job right now is to keep the civilians safe until this is all over.”

“Yeaaaah, about that. There’s little thing I need to take care of in Houst—”

“Don’t let them out of your sight, Stark. Over and out.”

Both video feeds disconnected at once, throwing the bedroom back into its normal ambient lighting.

“You’re welcome!” Stark shouted at the now-empty room. He threw an arm up, hopeless. “Unbelievable.”

“At least you got help,” you offered, trying to cheer him up. “Now you don’t have to be in three places at once.”

“Nope. Just one. Ever been to Houston?”

“Um...” You weren’t sure where this was headed. “No, why?”

“Captain’s orders, remember? Can’t let either of you out of my sight.” He tilted his head to look at you. “Think that car of yours can make the trip?”

You returned his smile of malicious compliance tenfold.

“Hell yes, he can.”

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #mcu imagine #debt.free

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