Tony smirked at the man he had been talking to for the last few hours. When he had arrived at the Halloween party he hadn’t planned on staying long. Who knew talking to himself would be this fun? The man in front of him was dressed as Iron Man. He was clearly a fan, considering how many details he had put into the cardboard armor, and how he had been talking about Iron Man. Tony could hardly fault anyone for dressing up as their hero, he was dressed as Captain America after all. Well, no one had to know it was him.
Tony pulled ‘Iron Man’ into an empty room and leaned into his personal space. ‘Iron Man’ didn’t seem to mind, leaning closer himself. “So, how about a kiss?” Tony whispered. The other man froze for a second, before tilting his head a little.
“My identity has to stay secret,” he said, and Tony couldn’t help but chuckle. Yes, that sounded a lot like what he had told everyone who had ever gotten too close.
“No problem. How about you blindfold me before taking that helmet off?” Tony suggested, his voice husky. He heard the other man swallow thickly.
“That… seems like a good solution,” 'Iron Man’ said, pulling out the scarf from around his neck.
Tony closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the feeling of the stranger carefully tying the scarf around his head and lightly caressing his face.
Stonybingo, for the “Identity Porn” square! You may have guessed it, but IT IS THE PERFECT SQUARE! Just so hard to DRAW something for it….
@teykekeyte‘s fault. (thank you, I love the idea)
If anyone wants to write something for this, PLEASE do, and let me know!! (I will also bribe you with art)
OH MY GOD I love it! Steve in armour and Tony in a Cap suit (with the little helmet wings!) and the ficlet with it is AMAZING, Tony noticing Steve talking about Iron Man and being SUCH A FAN! Gorgeous art and lovely fic :D
Another bingo fill, this time for the ‘water’ square. (I should probably think of a better title.) This one’s MCU.
Water rushes over his face, up his nose, down his throat. He struggles, but it makes no difference. Panic overrides sense and he opens his mouth to scream, and the water rushes in and he’s going to drown—
He wakes up.
Steve finds Tony standing in front of the windows, tumbler of scotch is one hand. There’s nothing on the glass—no projections or schematics—he’s just staring down at the lights of Manhattan, blurry beyond the raindrops spattering the window. It’s a familiar enough scene, from both ends—God knows Tony’s wandered in enough times at 3 AM to find Steve doing the exact same thing, although usually Steve foregoes the Scotch. It’s not like it will get him drunk.
“Hey,” says Steve softly, unwilling to be too loud this late at night. He steps up beside Tony, intending to just wrap an arm around him, but Tony turns and pulls him into a full embrace.
They just stand like that for a while. It’s harder to feel the cold while wrapped in someone else’s arms.
He doesn’t get out of the way in time, and the flailing arm of this week’s mechanical monstrosity sends him bouncing off a car and into a nearby building. For a moment he just lies there, stunned and trying to breathe—he can’t, and it’s not asthma, and certainly not like having an arc reactor carving a hole in his chest, but he got the wind knocked out of him and he. Can’t. Breathe.
This is really dumb, he thinks frantically, trying not to panic. Not like it’s the first time this has happened in a fight, he’ll be fine in a second—he can hear his teammates over the radio, wanting to know just that, and one insistent voice in particular, demanding—
His muscles loosen up and he pulls in a breath so raw that for a moment it’s water rushing down his throat and into his lungs. Then he coughs, long and ragged, and it’s air.
“I’m fine, guys,” he tells his team, and launches himself back into the fight.
In winter everything is wetter. Snow doesn’t stay on the ground long. The Tower lobby displays ‘caution: wet floor’ signs as a permanent fixture.
Tony makes hot chocolate—it’s a sign of how far gone he is over Steve that it’s not coffee—and doctors it liberally, then brings Steve a mug. They stand at the window, watching the city. Below, a car tries to take a corner faster than it should, skids out, and clips another. Steve winces as the horns go off; Tony can’t hear them. The intersection rapidly becomes impassable.
But there’s no villainy here, and nobody’s hurt. They can stay up here, warm and dry.
They’re leaving the hospital after a charity appearance, and a melting icicle drips water right down the back of his collar. He flinches, a shiver down his spine that is only partly due to being startled—
In the middle of February they get a tip pointing to Buenos Aires. It doesn’t pan out, but Tony insists he needs to stay longer for business anyway. Steve plays along for half a day, and then Tony admits the ruse and they turn it into a proper vacation.
When they return to New York, it’s still cold, but the skies are clear.
“Sometimes I have nightmares.”
“So do I.”
A bingo fill for the Trouble Sleeping square on my card, in… I guess we’re supposed to call it ‘universe 8′ now.
Tony always seemed to get run down as the end of the year approached—independent of other catastrophes—as the fiscal year slowed new contracts, making him work harder for them, and also increased the number of ends to be tied up. Steve was used to it, so when Tony stopped showing up at breakfast he just brought some coffee and fruit to the workshop, and tried not to worry too much about the bags developing under Tony’s eyes. It was temporary, and come December 24th Steve could kidnap him away from the office for a full week. Until then, Tony wouldn’t appreciate interference.
But it was hard not to feel the slightest twinge of disappointment when Tony started blowing off dates as early as late November. It was their first Christmas together again, and Steve’s first with the team since… well, since the universe had fallen apart. That first year after, Sam had still been Captain America, and Steve had spent most of that year alone, furious and betrayed but also now more than a bit disturbed by the fathomless depths of the anger he’d felt.
His youth had returned, but he’d needed more time to sort out his head, and Sam was doing an amazing job of it, so Steve had left the team—and Tony—to him, and taken leave.
It’d been Tony who’d dragged him back in the end, which probably shouldn’t have been a surprise.
Tony’s voice at the doorway broke Steve from his reverie over the oatmeal, and Steve looked up, smiling. For Tony to be awake at this hour meant he hadn’t been to bed yet, unless he’d grabbed a nap on the cot in his workshop, but if he was here then maybe Steve could cajole him into getting a few hours sleep in a proper bed. “You’re up early,” he said fondly.
“So’re you,” Tony said around a yawn. “You’re not usually up until six.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” said Steve, trying to make it casual, but he knew he’d failed when Tony faltered in reaching for the coffee machine.
“Oh, hell,” said Tony after a moment, sounding more alert. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” said Steve, and then gave in at the raised eyebrows. “Just couldn’t sleep. You know how it goes.”
“Mm.” Tony claimed his coffee and took it over to the table beside Steve. He was yawning even as he drank it. “I’ll be glad when this month’s over. Sorry, Steve.”
“Not your fault,” said Steve, trying not to feel obscurely pleased. “Are you sure you should be drinking that? You’ll have problems sleeping, yourself.”
“Not likely.” Tony yawned again, but Steve noted that he curled protectively around his coffee. “I’ve still got work to do, I’ll crash later. You could join me—aren’t folks your age supposed to have afternoon naps?”
Another day Steve would have come back with a joke about not being white-haired anymore. Today he grinned into his cereal and said, “That we are, young whippersnapper.”
He slept better with Tony beside him. It wasn’t just the comfort of having someone else there—with Tony, it was a tangible reminder, even through sleep and nightmares, that the end of the universe had not been the end. They’d torn their friendship apart, but they’d put it back together and hammered out the flaws along the way. They’d made something better.
And part of that was compromise, so he’d take a nap with Tony this afternoon, and wait for Christmas to kidnap Tony away for a week. Or—Steve grinned to himself. Maybe a month. Compromise worked both ways, and anyway, if Tony kept this up then by Christmas he’d need a month.
“What are you grinning about?” Tony asked suspiciously, and Steve felt his grin relax into a smile.
“Oh, just you.”
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Written for the Cap-IM Tiny Bang entry HEROIC by fictionforlife (ireallyshouldbedrawing). Please go check out their art before reading this ficlet, it will probably help it make more sense (and also the art is gorgeous!). This also fills the ‘future’ square on my bingo card.
Code Name: HEROIC
Universe: Noir AU
Rating: G (no warnings)
The Stark Needle rises two miles – no, kilometres, Steve corrects in his head, nobody in this new century uses miles anymore – above the old streets of New York, higher than any of the other skyscrapers. Steve watched the Empire State go up, and he thought it was a marvel then, but today’s skyscrapers make it seem a toy building. The Stark Needle soars above them all, and widens again at the very top to form larger floors, platforms in the clouds. But today is clear, and the view is like no other.
“Quite a sight, huh?” Stark – the new Stark, Tony – asks, hands in his pockets. Steve pulls back from the glass, and sees with embarrassment that he’s left fingerprints against it. He searches in his pocket for a hanker-chief before he remembers that he doesn’t have one – no one does, now.
“Climbed a lot of mountains,” said Steve, and his heart gives that funny twist again, which isn’t the murmur or the asthma or anything else. “But this might take the cake. I look down, I wonder that the air’s not thinner.”
Tony snorts a laugh. “It is, actually, but we keep it pressurized. Standard regulations, these days, it’s bad for health to be going from higher-to-lower pressure like that day in day out.” He steps up closer to the glass and gestures out at the other skyscrapers, some of which reach up to one-and-a-half kilometres. Around them flying cars wind in and out in perfectly organized chaos, none of them ever colliding, even though sometimes it seems like they should. Steve remembers cab drivers cursing at pedestrians and bicycles, accents thick but anger unmistakable. On the ride up here, there’d been no driver; Tony had told him it was ‘auto-pilot’.
The old city lies below it all, and when Steve looks too far down, rather than out, it becomes alien. The views aren’t the same as they are on the ground. With effort, he can see buildings he knows, but he doesn’t quite recognize them.
“You’ll adapt,” says Tony suddenly, quietly, and Steve startles, turns to him with something like accusation. For a moment he can’t quite speak, everything he’s ignoring clogging his throat, and Tony takes the opportunity to speak over him, cool and calm. “Come on, you went chasing down alien artefacts with great-granddad, you can’t tell me none of those were stranger than this. Let alone that old armour of his, good lord.”
Steve wants to bridle at the clumsy attempt at reassurance, but the fondness with which Tony speaks of his ancestor’s flying armour, so much in the manner of the man who’d designed and worn it, drains it away. Tony is not his great-grandfather. But the way he speaks, confident – the way he sticks his hands in his pockets, or takes them out to gesture expansively, the way he’s proudly shown off this strange new future to Steve – he’s so much like his namesake that Steve says, instead, “That was on adventure. Bit different coming home.”
“I know,” says Tony. “But you can do it.”
The elder Stark hadn’t had that much unswerving faith in him, not right off the bat. That Tony had been skeptical, until Steve had proven himself, and his trust had been hard-won. It doesn’t feel right, accepting it so easily from this new Stark.
“He never stopped looking for you,” says Tony. He’s watching Steve more intently, now, jokes about outdated, marvellous armour gone.
Steve frowns, eyebrows pulling together. “That was stupid. He’d no reason to think I’d survived.” When the Nazis pursuing them had set off one of the temple traps, the artefact Steve had just finagled from its pedestal had glowed blue, then brilliant, brilliant white, brighter than any explosion. Then there’d been water everywhere, and he’d been unable to breathe… until a sleek, impossibly man-sized crimson-and-gold armour had pulled him from the water, and suddenly he was gasping for breath in the grip of the worst asthma attack he’d had in years.
In a century, it turned out.
Tony had been in his armour at the time, to force the temple doors open; the last thing Steve had seen was him being blown clear of the light, while the Nazis seemed to disintegrate. Steve had been sure he’d died himself, for a while.
“He had faith in you,” says Tony. His hands are back in his pockets. “Never could believe you’d die like that, said it was fishy and you were way too stubborn anyway. It’s in his journals. And if he thought that about you after dragging across the world and back – ”
“Hey, sometimes I dragged him,” Steve points out, reflexively.
Tony grins. “There you go. You’ll adapt. And you know… I think you’ll find, the future’s pretty amazing, too.”
Steve looks out again, and chases that feeling he’d had on first seeing this view. Look out, not down. The sun’s setting; it lines up through the needle-like skyscrapers below and the light refracts through their enormous glass windows, across their intermittent observation platforms, setting everything gold and orange and red. He pictures all the people in those flying cars, science fiction come to life – and here he is, living it. Just one more adventure, bigger than any before.
“I guess I’ll find out,” says Steve, and it feels more hopeful than he’d expected.
Title: “I’m going to punch you in your stupid patriotic face.”
Link to Tumblr: https://asparrowsfall.tumblr.com/
CODE NAME: GOLDEN
Code Name: GOLDEN
Notes: I’ve been trying to write fluff for weeks and failing. Then I wrote for this art and suddenly fluff is everywhere! :D
“I’m going to punch you,” Tony hissed, then hauled himself up and hit the hand-pad that Steve obligingly held out. He dropped back to the sit-up bench slowly, stomach muscles protesting, then hauled himself up again, resisting the urge to groan, and punched with his opposite hand. “Right in your stupidly patriotic face.”
On the next punch, Steve was frowning. “My face isn’t stupidly patriotic,” he said sternly. Then, as Tony dropped back again, he added, “It’s nobly patriotic,” and Tony could hear the grin in his voice, damn it. He hauled himself up again with a glare.
“See how noble it is with a broken nose,” and back down, “from when I punch you,” up, “in the face!”
“If you’re this tired after a few sit-ups,” said Steve mock-admonishingly, “I don’t see how you’re going to manage to break my nose.”
“A few!” Indignation made the next sit-up easier. “We’re not all the peak of physical perfection,” down, “I think after doing two hundred sit-ups,” up, “I’m allowed to be a bit,” down, “irritated at your face,” up, “you don’t have to look so,” down, “smug!”
“Actually, you’re only at a hundred-sixty-seven,” said Steve, halfway between apologetic and amused.
Tony bit back a swear and focused on his sit-ups. Perfect form, he thought grimly. Perfect form, and then later he’d punch Captain Perfect in his stupidly patriotic, stupidly perfect face.
By the time he’d reached three hundred – which was a perfectly respectable amount of sit-ups if you weren’t blessed with the Super Soldier Serum – he was breathing hard. He unhooked his legs from the bars and let them fall to either side of the narrow bench, then lay back, trying not to sound like he was having an asthma attack. Possibly three hundred had been a bit ambitious. Lying here for a while sounded great.
A moment later he felt Steve’s weight settled between his thighs, his legs tangled up with Tony’s. He huffed out a laugh. “I’m going to have a hard enough time getting up, you don’t have to try and trip me.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Steve, and Tony cracked an eye open. Yeah, that was his innocent face. “I bet I could entice you up here.”
“Really,” said Steve, biting his lip – probably to keep from laughing at Tony, but Steve biting his lip, for whatever reason, with his hands splayed out across Tony’s stomach, fingers and palms hot through the thin material of Tony’s shirt even though Tony was the one who’d been doing all the work – Tony started to sit up.
His stomach and sides protested, painfully: they’d had a minute to cool down, and they did not want to start going again. Tony groaned and slumped back to the bench, closing his eyes. “Ngh.”
Movement, and light shifted beyond his closed eyelids. Breath brushed his cheek, and then lips pressed gently against his own. Tony opened his eyes and found Steve’s face just inches above his own.
“Or I guess I could come to you,” said Steve, smiling.
akatonbo replied to your post:teaberryblue replied to your post:So there was…There are people who have never seen The Princess Bride? Fix this tragic oversight immediately!
That was what I was thinking, yes!
That is why it has my vote! But all these posts about movies Redford stars in are REALLY TEMPTING
To celebrate the release of SUNLESS SEA on 6 February 2015, we have 3 copies to give…
Because Tony doesn’t always fight spine-chilling, blood-curdling villains. Sometimes it’s an annoying sorcerer who has a knack for pink, a giant octopus that spurts constructive adhesive rather aggressively, hundreds of large orange balls that trap people inside and take them on a trip through space, or a human-tree who floods New York with mistletoes. It’s both hilarious and annoying as hell, but it’s still hard work. And hard work gets rewarded.
Recipes for Pies and Tarts! (recipes)
Need some pie baking ideas for this Thanksgiving?! Wait no more!
- All-American Apple Pie
- Apple and Pear Pie
- Apple Caramel Cheesecake Piewith Toasted Pecans
- Apple Cider Pie
- Apple Galette
- Apple Tarte Tatin
- Apricot Pie
- Autumn Pumpkin Cheesecake Pie
- Blueberries ‘n Cream Pie
- Blueberry LatticePie
- Blueberry-Almond Tart
- Blueberry-Apple StreuselPie
- Blueberry-Peach Galettes
- Buttermilk Pie
- Caramel Apple Pie
- Cherry Pie
- Cherry Pie with Cream Cheese Pastry Crust
- Chocolate Buttermilk Pie
- Chocolate Cream Pie
- Chocolate Meringue Pie
- Chocolate Raspberry Cheesecake Pie
- Coconut & Lime Cream Cheese Pie
- Coconut Custard PieCoconut Custard Pie with Whipped Cream Topping
- Coconut Pie
- Creamy Lemon Meringue Pie
- Decadent Chocolate Ganache Pie
- Dutch Apricot Pie
- Early American Buttermilk Pie
- Easy Lemon Meringue Pie
- Egg Custard Pie
- French Apple Tart
- Fresh Blueberry Pie
- Fresh Cherry Cobbler
- Fresh Lemon Curd Tart
- Fresh Lemon Meringue Pie
- Fresh Raspberry Tart with Lemon Filling
- Fresh Strawberry Pie
- Grandma’s Rhubarb Pie
- Grandma’s Fresh Cherry Pie
- Grape Pie
- Individual Nectarine Tarts
- Innkeeper Pie
- Key Lime Pie
- Key West Key Lime Pie
- Lattice Cherry Pie
- Latticed Peach Pie with Peach Brandy
- Lattice-Top Mulberry or Blackberry Pie
- Lemon Apple Chess Pie
- Lemon Tart with a Lemon Pecan Crust
- Lemon-Buttermilk Meringue Pie
- Lime Custard Tart
- L’orange and Citron Cream Cheese Tarte
- Macadamia Nut Pineapple Tart
- Margarita Key Lime Pie
- Microwave Sour Cream Lemon Pie
- Milky Way Tarts
- Mississippi Mud Pie
- No-Bake Lemon Cream Tart
- Old Fashion Fresh Apricot Pie
- Old Time Chess Pie
- Old-Fashion Apple Pie
- Old-Fashion Blueberry Pie
- Old-Fashion Fruit Tart
- Old-Fashion Pecan Pie
- Old-Fashion Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie
- Old-Fashioned English Custard Tart
- Oven Fried Apple Pies
- Peach Custard Pie
- Pear and Almond Cream Tart
- Pear and Almond Tart
- Pear Praline Pie
- Pear Tarte Tatin
- Pecan Streusel Apricot Pie
- Plum Galette
- Plum Pie Augusto
- Puff Pastry Apple Tart
- Raspberry Sour Cream Tart
- Recipe for Cookie Crumb Crust
- Rum Raisin Apple Pie
- Rustic Chocolate Raspberry Heart Tart
- Scrumptious Strawberry Tart
- Shoofly Pie
- Sour Cream Raisin Pie
- Southern Fried Fruit Pies
- Spiced Peach Galettes
- Strawberry Almond Chocolate Tart
- Strawberry Hazelnut Tart
- Strawberry S’More Tart
- Summer Cherry Pie
- Summer Tart
- Sweet Potato Pie
- Very Lemon Pie
- Vinegar Pie
- Walnut Chocolate Chip Pie
- Walnut Fudge Pie
- White Chocolate and Blueberry Tart
- Worlds Best Apple Pie
A pie masterpost.
Side note: These don’t have motors. They’re completely momentum/wind-powered and literally just wander around beaches unsupervised like giant abstract monsters.
these are both amazing and COMPLETELY TERRIFYING
Vegan Mug Cake Round Up