Each avenger goes through a simulation in which they try and play the role of a super villain as the others try to defeat them. Tony wipes the floor with them with simulation Ironman Suit access and without. Maybe they try to warn people and Fury is like, yeah we knew that ages ago... you guys are thanking him and stuff, right? And they've all gone very pale :)
Fury stared at the sad pile of humans that used to be an assortment of his best agents with Expressionless Face #34, also known as I-am-not-impressed-and-neither-would-you-be-if-you-saw-how-pathetic-you-look-right-now.
“Stark destroyed you again,” he eventually said matter-of-fact. There was no doubt about it. He didn’t even know if he’d expected anything else.
“He did not destroy us!” Steve Rogers groaned, prideful to the end. And clearly in denial.
Fury eyed the glassy look in Barton’s eyes speculatively. He was gonna have to invest in new psychologists, he just knew it. Fucking Stark.
“He fucking obliterated you.” Fury snorted when the statement was greeted with a telling silence.
He just wished he could get his hand on the simulation data, but Stark had a habit of wiping it clean before they’d even left the room and Fury sure as hell wasn’t going to ask for it. He could probably keep Stark’s damn AI out of the simulator, but Fury didn’t get into the position he holds by fighting losing battles.
“Permission to go to medical?” Rogers gasped, and well. When Rogers asked, that’s when you knew Stark had pulled out the big guns.
“Fuck off,” Fury snapped. Professionalism was wasted on these half-conscious morons with more stubbornness than their sanity could bear anyways.
Romanoff was the only one who lingered.
“Sir?” she asked and though her composure was much better, her left thumb twitched in a way that told Fury better than words how unnerved she really was. At least she didn’t beat around the bush. “I’m concerned about Stark.”
Fury barks a laugh that is anything but friendly.
“Get in line, Romanoff.”
[And, when she’s almost reached the door: “If you ever manage to get on his good side, you might wanna stay there.”
It’s as close to admitting even he doesn’t know how real the threat Stark poses is, as Fury will ever allow himself to get.]
big mood: Magnus saying "No" to clary/jace/some annoying shadowhunter's whiny and trivial request for something they can't be bothered fixing themselves, having the audacity to bother Magnus while he's swamped with important High Warlock of Brooklyn work. And they're stunned for a minute before attempting again and- "I. Said. No."
it was a gloomy tuesday, the skyline thick with clouds, somewhere past noon but lunch had gotten lost in a landslide of things to do. and on this gloomy tuesday, magnus was not in the mood for anything.
he was not in the mood for the fire message from the high warlock of manhattan trying to change the time and date of a warlock council meeting yet again. he was not in the mood for the stack of contracts piled up on his desk that he needed to finish rereading by the next morning. and he was really not in the mood for one of his potions exploding because a client meeting had gone on too long. he had 10 minutes until he needed to portal to queens and yet there he was elbow deep in purple gunk, carefully using magic to try and remove the coagulated potion off of a very old tome that he really didn’t want to be ruined. so really he was not in the fucking mood for shadowhunters barging into his home.
his jaw was tight and there was a tense energy around his shoulders as he bent over the book, cursing under his breath as blue sparks spilled up over the spine and he watched the potion slowly dissolve away under his magic. he’d have to save the rest of the books with a simpler spell and hope that none of them were damaged, but this one was too important.
and of course, that was when the door rattled. he had been trying to school his breathing, trying to calm himself before he portaled off to drop off some potions but it wasn’t really working when this spell required focus and concentration, and now someone had the audacity to be at the door. his head snapped up for a moment and he glared at it, then dropped his gaze back down, deciding he’d finish the spell and see who it was after. it was probably a client who had gotten timing wrong, which was irritating but he’d handle that when he was done.
Two friends on their Grand Tour of 18th-century Europe who stumble upon a magical artifact that leads them from Paris to Venice in a dangerous manhunt, fighting pirates, highwaymen, and their feelings for each other along the way.
Here, have the first part of a James Bond/Tony Stark xover. Because I want an xover of those two and because today is my birthday, so I get what I want even if I have to write it myself.
Summary: Double-O Agent James Bond meets Tony Stark. It goes exactly as well as Fury feared it would go.
Or Five Times Tony accidentally gets involved in a secret mission, and the one time he does it entirely on purpose.
Part I Bond
Tony wasn’t pouting. He was not.
“Quit your pouting and move your fucking ass!” The guy behind him snarled (very impolitely), and pressed the gun harder into Tony’s back.
While uncomfortable, the loudly implied threat did not keep Tony from dragging his feet. For one Guy-With-Terrible-Breath hadn’t immediately shot him, which implied he had an interest in keeping Tony alive. For the time being at least. For another Tony was too busy mentally ranting to pay the guy much attention.
Because seriously, this entire situation was ridiculous. He was on vacation, for fuck’s sake. That in itself was rare enough an occurrence—no matter how often Obadiah insisted that he was young still, only twenty-three, and should be out, enjoying himself, Tony had never been very good at staying out of his own business.
It had taken Obadiah five months to convince Tony that Stark Industries wasn’t going to fall apart if he took a break on some tiny island near Spain. Too much like his father, Obadiah had grumbled, which had of course been the deciding factor in Tony agreeing to take his long put-off mandatory leave.
(He doesn’t mind vacations, just to clarify. He enjoys the partying and drinks just fine, thank you very much. It’s the lying in the sand all day sleeping and chilling that gets to him. Tony isn’t very good at turning his mind off and living in the moment. He needs puzzles to solve, patterns to predict, explosives to make boom. He needs to calculate and built, needs to keep his mind buzzing, and vacations—complete with being banned from disappearing into the workshop or talking business with his favourite engineers—don’t offer that.)
The second reason why Tony was in such a foul mood was that he had been responsible. He’d carefully chosen his destination, run some pretty background checks on his hotel, other residents, the usual. He’d complied with all of Obadiah’s pointless, overboard security precautions. Just once in his life Tony had taken things serious—like everyone seemed to insist he should—and he had gotten kidnapped for his troubles.
That settled it then. He was never going to listen to Obadiah ever again.
I’ve made a few posts where Wanda uses her powers to freak out Tony and he’s defended by several people such as Bucky or Loki, but here’s another concept:
Tony absolutely not giving a shit about Wanda’s powers and not being the slightest bit afraid of them. Like Wanda will use her powers to move things around and stuff to freak him out but Tony won’t pay any mind to it and just be like, “Are you done?”
Maybe he even builds a device that can keep her out of his head, and probably Bruce’s and anyone else he cares about, and has it on him at all times so she can’t mess with his head.
I love people defending Tony from Wanda but I also really like Tony being completely unimpressed by Wanda and her powers.
Narrowly avoiding the oncoming Seraph
blade, Magnus sent a blast of burning magic into the Circle member’s gut,
screams filling the air. Unconsciously, his magic sought out Alec, fighting on
the other side of the darkened alley. They were supposed to go on a date, like
they always did on Fridays, but an emergency call had reached them just as they
were preparing to leave. Tracking the call to an alley in Manhattan, filled
with Circle members, was not exactly how they had envisioned their day to go.
Still, watching the blood drip off his
knuckles after punching the approaching man in the face, Magnus couldn’t stop
the satisfaction from spreading through his body. Just yesterday, there had
been an attack on warlock children not far from there, and now he had no doubt
who had been the offending party.
Bringing his hands up to his chest, he felt
the red strands of his magic curling into a ball, moving from his body to his
fingers. He slammed his arms forward, and his magic was unleashed. The red
blast crashed into his opponents, knocking them off their feet. Not a second
later, Alec appeared in the fog, finishing them off. One more glance to the
other side of the alley, and he turned to Magnus.
“Are you alright?”
“Of course I am,” Magnus answered, his
magic checking Alec for injuries, “ready for another round?”
“Always,” Alec said, voice playful.
Taking off his blazer and banishing it back
to the loft, Magnus noticed how Alec’s eyes lingered at the shirt straining
over his arms. “Is this our idea of date night now?”
“What, you’re not having fun?” Alec
quipped, striding forward again, only to be met with a few dozen Circle members
rounding the corner.
"11, things you said when you were drunk" which I'm sure you've already received but is dying to be written after vol 2!
Peter had long ago perfected the art of drinking just enough
alcohol to get drunk without losing control.
His teammates, apparently, had
not, judging by the fact that most of them were currently passed out on the
floor around him (including Groot, but only because it was well past his
bedtime; they weren’t about to give alcohol to a baby, c’mon).
Gamora was the only one besides him who had managed to stay
awake, but that was because she was some kind of drinking superhero.
“How’re you doing that?” Peter mumbled into her stomach. He
was currently curled up on the floor with his head in her lap, trying not to fall asleep – okay, so he
might actually have toed the line as far as drinking too much went, but it was
hard to care when Gamora was so comfy.
“Doing what?” she asked, casually sipping a beer.
“Being all – sitting and stuff. You had as much to drink as
the rest of us.”
“Alcohol doesn’t affect me as easily.”
He turned his head a bit so he could look up at her more
easily. “You’re such a badass,” he said, proud that he was only slurring his
words a little.
She smirked, amused. “So you’ve said.”
His eyes traced over the scars on her face and his head
bumped lightly against the hilt of her sword where it was strapped to her
“Hey,” he said. “Hey, G’mora? Hey –“
“I ever tell you why I named the ship the Milano?”
“After a character on a TV show.”
“No. Yes.” He giggled at his own fumbling response. “I mean,
she was actually the actress. But like, why
I named it after her?”
“C’mere,” he said, crooking his finger for her to bend down.
She indulgently lowered her head and he whispered, “I use’ta
want her to be my girlfriend when I was a kid. Even when I thought love was
“Yep. Scientific term from Earth there, you’re welcome.” He
laughed loud enough at his own joke that he briefly woke up Rocket; he heard him roll over and
grumble something about ‘damn singing fool’ before falling back asleep.
“She was cool, though,” Peter said after he’d calmed down.
“Was she?” Gamora had started playing with his hair and he
leaned further into her as he kept talking.
“Yeah. In the show she was really strong and awesome. She
punched someone once, and she liked basketball.”
“I don’t care for sports.”
Peter waved a hand (or tried to; he ended up just sort of
slapping the floor). “Doesn’t matter. The important part was the punching. And
you’re into swords, which are cooler than sports.”
“I agree.” She was looking at him with a soft, pretty smile
that melted his insides even when he was sober. “So, your childhood dreams came
true then? David Hasselhoff was your father and Alyssa Milano is your girlfriend?”
“No, no.” He shook his head, which made him dizzy, but he
pressed on. “You’re way better than her. You saved the galaxy and you killed a
monster and you do that thing where you scratch the back of my neck – aahh,
yeah, like that.” He closed his eyes, lost in pleasure for a moment.
“Plus,” he continued on a yawn, keeping his eyes closed.
“You let me fall asleep on your lap.”
“Peter Quill, you better not.” She tried to sound
disapproving, but he could feel her stomach jerk with repressed laughter.
“Mmm, too late.” He wrapped his arms around her so he was
basically hugging her waist, settling in like she was a pillow.
“Ten minutes,” she said. “Then we’re moving to a bed.”
“Deal,” he mumbled. Though he was pretty sure she was gonna
have to carry him.
But she was badass and strong, even stronger than Alyssa Milano, so she could handle it.