A Hold on Hope || Tony & Jasper

Jasper stared at the phone for a long time. It would be stupid, incredibly stupid, to waste one of his burner phones for one call. And there was no doubt that he would have to toss it after a call to Tony Stark. If nothing else, he would be too tempted to keep the line of communication open.

It would be incredibly stupid, but jasper thought maybe he deserved a little stupid after all he’d been through. He dialed the number and checked his watch. He really wasn’t sure if he wanted Tony to answer or not.

Until Tony did. Jasper took a breath. “Hey Tony, I … I can’t talk long. I just wanted to say … Thank you, and, and goodbye. Take care of yourself, Tone.”

Into the Woods || Tony and Newt

Newt’s parents were on vacation, and while normally, she would have resented not being brought along, this time was different. This time, she was more than happy to get away from them for a weekend. The holidays had brought with them the usual questioning pressures of what she was going to do with her life, and when she was going to continue her education, and she was quite through with having to answer them. That said, it also left her with nothing on her schedule for the weekend, and now more than ever she needed to escape the pressures being put on her even when her parents weren’t in constant contact. It seemed easiest to just relax away the weekend (and perhaps a few days more) as an animal, free from the stresses of every day life.

So it was that Newt had found herself taking the form of an eagle and just flying that Saturday morning. She hadn’t had a particular destination in mind, and really had just followed the currents of wind until she ended up finding herself above a mountain range that seemed fairly uninhabited. There were houses dotting the landscape here and there, but nothing that should prove unavoidable, theoretically, at least.

A quick change later, bypassing human entirely, and Newt was in the more comfortable feline form of a snow leopard, as this environment seemed particularly suited for such an animal. Normally, she would have restricted herself to something more native, but this weekend was all about relaxing, and she felt like being a leopard, damn it. Besides, with how sparsely populated the area seemed, she didn’t think it likely anyone would catch her, and even less likely they’d know she didn’t belong.

Briefly, Newt wondered whether to search for a temporary den first, or to hunt for prey, but that decision was quickly made for her by the empty feeling in her stomach. Food was in order, she decided, and preferably fast. ‘A rabbit, maybe, but I’ll take what I can get,’ she mused, as she padded off into the forest in search of game.

Saving Stark

“You said you’d let him go!”

Handler shifted his gun’s sights to the next hostile, bound to a chair beside the one he’d just put down, even as the body of his fellow kidnapper fell to the floor.  With a flick of the wrist, Handler swept the removed and bloody fingers off the table to fall scattered on the downed body, then rested his gaze on the hostile after he’d done so.  "I did let go of him.  Then I shot him.  Now I know what drugs you all used on Mr. Stark.

“Care to tell me where he’s being held, and what was in those containers brought in earlier today?” he asked calmly, picking up the knife he’d used and placing it delicately on the table between them.

“Why should I? Soon as you do, you’re gonna kill me.”

“Yes,” Handler replied without remorse.  "So really, it’s a matter of how many pieces of you are still attached when I finally put you out of everyone’s misery.“

"This place is crawling with-”

“No, it isn’t.  The twenty-four people on the upper floors are all sharing your soon-fate.  Now.  I want Stark, and your girlfriend wants a body to bury,”  Handler’s grin was vicious.  "I’m sure we can come to an agreement.“

By Handler’s count, there were still ten living hostiles between Malcontent, himself, and Stark.  It would be helpful to know how many were personally guarding the mechanic - but he had no doubt it wouldn’t matter in the end.

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anonymous asked:

(starkingyou) [text] CLINT! We should do something. Something without the team. a Just US kind of thing. [text] wanna vacation? [text] let's run off and do a vacation. [text] let's go somewhere crazy

[text] Can we go ta Italy?
[text] I like Italy.
[text] vacation sounds awesome.

The Coulsons and Stark


Tony’s eyebrows flew upward.  ”Y’know, I’m tring to, y’know, do the whole reformation thing. Not randomly sleeping with everyone and-”  Tony blinked.  ”what the hell, it’s like masturbation, right?”  Just a tool, and why not have fun if it feels good.

Anthony tripped a little, blinking. “Oh wow, Really- I mean, yes!” He grinned. “Yes indeed. Come on, I’ll take you to the loft and i’ll have Jarvis tell Calliope - that’s Phil’s AI - to come home early.” He grinned at Tony.


coulson-philliip-j: Phil woke the next morning feeling like absolute hell. He found himself wedged between the couch and a solid figure. Warm and strong and a familiar scent. //Clint…// His mind provided, for the time being leaving out the reasons for why he and HG were curled up on the couch together. It helped to ease some of the aches and sick-to-his-stomach feelings, but only a little as he buried his face in the man’s chest and breathed in deep, fingers curling into his shirts to keep him close.

shieldshawk: Clint lay beside Tony, his boyfriend’s head pillowed on his good shoulder, his eyes closed, dozing.

starkingyou: Tony had turned in the night, still having trouble moving. One arm slung over his Heart, an attempt to keep close.

awwwhawkguy: Clint felt little hands grabbing his leg, reached around and picked up Sky, snuggling him down with himself and Phil as he yawned hugely, not quite ready to open his eyes yet. “Go back'sleep,” he muttered.

shieldshawk: Sky cooed, grabbing fistfulls of blond hair, sucking on them gently, blinkign happily down at Clint and Poppa Phil.

coulson-philliip-j: Swallowing thickly, Phil blinked into HG’s shirt for a few moments before opening his eyes completely and sitting up a little as best he could. His brain felt all kinds of out of sorts and his limbs were weak and shaky, but he could deal with that. It was workable.

Carefully as he could, Phil managed to extract himself from Clint’s hold and slide –rather ungracefully– over the back of the couch to stand. It was morning, which meant things had to be done. Like, Skylar needed a diaper change and breakfast. Everyone else was asleep. Picking the little boy up, Phil snuck off to change him, fix up a bottle for him (breakfast meant bottle cuz he was always too tired to figure anything else out) and gently deposited him in the room Barton and Tony were sleeping in. “They’ve been worried about you. Stay here…” He murmured, laying the little boy down on the bed between his uncle’s shins. He swallowed hard and worked at his lip for a moment as the little one snuggled himself in, happy with his bottle and current sleeping arrangement, before Phil slipped back out and into the bathroom once more.

He left the door unlocked this time.

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Homecoming (readmore for length) (Phil, PJ, Clint, Tony, Clint, Puppies, Sky)

After getting Clint and Tony scanned by Jarvis, and ignoring what the AI said about himself, Phil got them across timelines, the line between them thin enough that they could finally cross it at will without worrying about ending up in the wrong place. Tony had cracked ribs, and some bruising, but that would heal with time. The real concern was the detox he would have to go through. Jarvis gave Phil the information on just what drugs would help get Tony off the sedatives without too much trouble, and even had something on hand. (he tried not to think too hard about WHY it would be on hand.)

Clint’s injuries were something that could be triaged without a trip to the hospital, thankfully, and Phil helped take care of that before driving them across to his own timeline. Then down to BedStuy and into a parking space just outside the building where PJ lived.

Tony stumbled along with his arm over Phil’s shoulder as the older man helped them both up the stairs and to outside PJ’s door. Phil knocked.

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starkingyou  asked:

"Pretty sure this is the height of narcissism." He leaned in and gave his other self a quick kiss then backed away, hands up. "No harm no foul, right?" [It's a kissing disease! Spread it by kissing the first ten people on your dash.]

He grinned, and yanked Tony back over. “C'mon, give a boy a proper kiss at least?” He purred.


starkingyou  asked:

Tony saw the man panic and knew what he was going through. Buying a bottle of ice water, he brought it over and set it by the man. He didn't know if it was because of a fear, or a flashback. Man's hands looked like soldier hands, & it always helped Tony's to be reminded where & when he was. "It's August 28, 2012. You're on the corner of West 112 and Lenox, just north of Central Park. It's 80 something and humid. Unopened sealed water is to your left, and you look like you could use a hot-dog."

My muse is suffering from a panic attack and can’t breath. What does your muse do?

Panic snags onto Clint’s thoughts, pushing him under into that realm of unspeakable things; and the worst thing is he doesn’t know what triggered it. Soundless flashback, maybe. Though he knows this shouldn’t be happening. His hands clench on the table, and he bows his head as air catches in his throat; the mercenary is choking and trembling and incapable of anything besides acknowledging the pain in his left shoulder, the fear eating away at his body.

Then, like a pane of glass, it shatters, though not all at once. Vaguely he acknowledges a voice by him, and Clint clings to it, following it out of his panic. And he’s more grateful than he can say.

Hesitantly - his hand still trembling slightly as the remains of the panic slipped away, and the pain in his arm receded - the mercenary picks up the water bottle and uncaps it, though he doesn’t manage to drink even a little of it. It reminds him too much of drowning, and he needs to catch his breath.

For a moment more he is silent: his hand is wrapped tensely around the bottle and his gaze remains averted as he regains his breath. Then, finally, he looks to his savior, and he tries to hide the pain and fear he’s feeling, but he’s too tired. He doesn’t even know what to think about the man.

“Th-thank you."Clint says quietly, giving the man a thankful nod. Then he looks away; back down to his hands. He was safe, he reminded himself. And if he stayed where he was, he’d stay safe until he got his guard back up, though he’s thinking about going home. Go home, take some pills, and sleep.  

For now, however, he’s content where he is; he feels strangely and unconditionally secure with the other man.

Finding Footing (Clint, Clint, PJ, Tony)

shieldshawk: Clint groaned, sitting up, wincing as his side twinged. Broken ribs. Never fun. Looking around, he smirked as he saw his alternet petting both luckys. “Hey pups. Hey Hawkguy.”

awwwhawkguy: “Hey, Clint,” he said, smiling slightly. “Ribs?” he asked, pausing in petting the pups. He’d stayed behind, as he’d promised.

shieldshawk: “How could ya tell?” He smirked, standing up. “That boy-lucky?”

awwwhawkguy: “yeah,” he said, watching the one-eyed dog look at his alternate, then come over to lick at his hand. “Sure is. And I could tell because of how you’re holding yourself. I know for broken ribs, yours’ve gotta be sore at least. What happened?” HG asked.

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