#iceandiron

[what-the-stark]

[text] Do not touch anything-- I am on my way.

[text] I don't think that'll be a problem since I can't actually move

[text] Can't see anything, but pretty sure I'm under the rubble

[text]  That used to be a building on 57th and Park Ave

[what-the-stark]

[text] Where are you?

[text] At the moment?

[text] That's classified, I'm afraid

[text] If I tell you, I'm gonna have to take you in

[what-the-stark]

"Get a grip on yourself."

"No. You don’t get to tell me how to feel. Goddamnit, Loki... how could you?”

[what-the-stark]

[url meme] *whispers* meee

My first impression on the Url or their character:

I met M by complete chance over a year ago, and to be honest, at first I had no idea what to think, since she didn't have an rp blog, and I hadn't seen anything to speak of in terms of writing samples. Then we chatted and plotted for a while and within a couple of hours it was like we'd known each other forever. We just really clicked, and I knew from her first post that my Tony was doomed in all the best ways. XD

Do I Rp with them?:

Extensively, though not always here. She plays with my other muse as well. But yes, as much as our schedules will allow.

Do I want to Rp with them?:

Always. <3

Do I ever have any gifwars or talk to them?:

Jesus, the epic aim gifwars, you have no idea. If it's not the two of us, we have makerofmischief (our regular accomplice in fandom crime) in on them as well. We chat with each other pretty much all day long, if we're not on aim/skype we're texting.

My opinion on their character:

My mental picture of her Loki is almost impossible to simplify into words, he's been built over hundreds of exchanges, through emotions, pasts and futures designed and lovingly detailed, and I just have a lot of feels, okay. He's unique- an elegant, crafty beautiful bastard, brilliant and conniving and unarguably perfect.

Overall statement:

Can't say enough nice things about muse or mun, and you should go follow her at iceandozone as well, since the blog I'm replying to we're using for cataloging our 647343 (slight exaggeration) pages of rp once we finally get around to editing that monster. XD

[what-the-stark]

"Never again."

Shaking his head, Tony couldn't help but laugh, a little breathlessly, his eyes dark and suspiciously shiny as he took his husband's pale, limp hand and raised it to his lips.

"Hey, you did good, babe. We did good." His lips brushed Loki's knuckles as he spoke, and he managed to tear his eyes away from their new arrival long enough to smile at him, still obviously in disbelief of his good fortune. "She's... well. Perfect."

And she was. Somehow not red or wrinkly or bald like most newborns, their daughter was as fair-skinned as Loki, the riot of wispy dark curls on her head lending her an most likely inaccurate angelic mien as she lay asleep, curled on her father's chest.

"Never say never, right? Who knows, she might end up with a brother one day."

[what-the-stark]

Trick or treat <3

Trick or treat meme:

9. Kiss on the lips

The lights were low in the quiet rec room by the time Tony made it out of the lab, and he stretched, rubbing his face and muffling a yawn with one hand as he padded silently across the room. He hadn’t meant to be in there so long, not on Halloween, and especially not during a party they were hosting, but he’d been called away earlier that evening by the proverbial offer he couldn’t refuse. Bruce had hit on a breakthrough in their joint project, a pivotal point in nearly a solid month of research that couldn’t be pushed back without fear of ruining the experiment entirely, and Tony had begged off, escaping to the lab in time for them to make science magic.

And everything had gone to plan, save for the loss of some of the exceedingly minimal free time he had to spend with the team, and their family and friends. Not a sacrifice he appreciated, to be honest, despite the project’s success.

Everyone who’d made it for the small get together they’d planned had long since retired, either in guest suites, back to their own rooms, or in a few cases, curled up here and there around the Tower, costumes still on or half off, empty bottles still strewn around, and Tony couldn’t help but shake his head in fond amusement as he made his way around the couch. And oh. He stopped, his breath catching in his throat, eyes darkening as he committed to memory the familiar figure sprawled with boneless elegance on the pale, plush cushions.

Loki was the sole occupant of the large sectional in the middle of the room, and Tony found himself moving closer, his feet drawing him to the god’s side before he’d even consciously considered approaching. He was still decked out in the costume he’d started the evening in, save the implausibly high heels discarded on the floor nearby. So was Tony, actually, minus only Gomez’s formal jacket. They’d chosen them as a joke, The Adams Family, accurate enough to describe their dysfunctional little group, right? But Loki made the entire thing look good, the long, black, tight-fitting lace gown rendering him androgynous, but not feminine in the slightest, and he’d drifted around like the royalty he was earlier, gracious and amused, accepting any and all compliments as only his due.

He deserved them, Tony mused as he took a knee by the couch, as he drew one pale hand to his lips. “Cara mia,” he murmured, smiling a moment later against Loki’s knuckles as he watched thin lips curve in reply.

“Mon sauvage,” Loki whispered, his eyes half-slitted, vibrant even in the darkened room, “ta lumière. Il me perce comme un poingard.”

Eyes widening dramatically as if shocked, Tony played along, kissing the skin beneath his lips once more before leaning closer, a hand braced on the back of the couch. “French? Oh- but you know what that does to me.” It was chaste, as their kisses went, merely a soft brush of lips, a long moment of warmth and pressure that called an answering warmth to life in his chest, and he opened his eyes when he drew away, unaware of when they’d fallen closed.

Deft fingers traced the corner of his mustache (he’d flat out refused to shave his goatee, even for the sake of costume continuity) and then stroked over his cheek, somehow as eloquent as words when Loki finally replied, his slight smile lingering between them. “I know.”

“Seriously?” They both started, jerking apart like guilty teenagers. “For fuck’s sake, get a room. Some of us are already trying not to throw up over here.” The moment might have lasted longer if Barton’s grumpy voice hadn’t drifted up from behind the couch right then, and they both cracked up, laughing as Tony raised an eyebrow, nodding towards the lift.

Hey, credit where credit was due, sometimes Clint had the best ideas.

[what-the-stark]

"Wh--" Half-juggling, half throwing the book from his lap in order to hastily make room for the man who waited for no one, Loki held a sharp reprimand at the tip of his tongue, until he realized just what the mortal was trying to accomplish. The quick, sinuous hip motions against his lap pulled a sharp exhale from Loki's lips, and finally Loki hissed, long fingers curling over Tony's hips before pushing hims down against his thighs and dragging him slowly back. "Something you would like to say?"

Bracing himself against the arms of the chair, arms flexing as he moved, Tony took a long moment to reply, his breath catching in his throat as he went where those immovable hands prompted, ass sliding over sleek thighs, seating him more firmly in Loki’s lap as he stole back his lover’s attention.

"Actions speak louder than words? Pretty sure I’ve already said it all."

[what-the-stark]

Shoot me

Shoot Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character shooting yours or vice versa.

------

They stood across from one another, the shallow crater of their impact rising to either side of them, unexpected horror dimming the late afternoon sunlight above. The scene had seemingly frozen, fading as they focused on one another, both almost preternaturally still as the dust settled, leaving the impromptu battleground around them silent, at least for the moment. Tony found himself disturbingly aware of every little detail. The sweat trickling down his temple, his heart racing, pounding painfully, the small, unmoving figure curled at Loki’s feet, the way his HUD flickered warningly, system damage diagnostics scrolling by in his peripheral.

How the fuck had this even happened?

Just this morning, they’d woken together and leisurely made love, met Bruce and Pepper to plan out a new lab wing, as well as the remodeling for their new arrival. They’d all had lunch before the two of them headed out to do some shopping, only a couple of hours ago, but the innocuously pleasant afternoon they’d shared seemed a swiftly fading dream in the face of what confronted them now.

The brutality of the sudden attack surprised both of them, blackness abruptly irising open in the middle of the street before them as menacing dark forms emerged like smoke into the sunlit air, one bearing a too-familiar cubical shape.

They fought back, Loki pushing him aside, behind him as Tony’s suit was summoned, his hands flaring with golden fire, expression fierce and almost joyful as he took on the steadily swelling numbers of their faceless opposition. Tony joined the fray as soon as he could, covering Loki’s back, managing to take down at least a dozen of the invaders when a flash of light drew his attention, as Loki abruptly stopped, straightened, the child he’d pulled from an overturned school bus left unconscious on the ground before him.

“Babe? You alright?” Tony asked, cautiously approaching as the barrage they’d been facing suddenly stalled, pausing at the tight negative shake of Loki’s head, as his hands curled into fists at his sides.

He slowly turned to face Tony as if unwilling, those familiar, vibrant green eyes dimming even as he watched, his powerful magic contained, struggling, but held fast, at least for the moment. A cloudy, virulent blue shifted over them, flashing in sinuous patches like clouds before the moon, revealing flashes of distress that only someone who knew the god well would discern.

“I fear not. I am… compromised.” He paused as if to catch his breath, lips thinning, emotion shifting over his features as he forced words past what battled to contain him. “Anthony. You will not allow me to harm you, or those we hold dear. Strike before I must.”

It was both a command and a plea, and Tony stared at him incredulously, watched the ice creep over his skin, watched the light leave his eyes, distantly aware of the sound of helicopters approaching, of thunder rumbling threateningly above.

No. This was not happening. The rest of the team would be here soon, there were other options, he could hold them off until… sound abruptly rushed back, an emotional shockwave, and Tony could hear people crying, screaming, panic rising through the ache in his chest, and he exhaled slowly in wordless denial.

The god stood still before him, utterly still as he began to glow, his brow furrowing, one hand splayed protectively over his abdomen, the only sign of the battle raging within. Finally, as if it pained him, he moved, his chin tilting up ever so slightly, baring his throat as if inviting the strike he knew would end the standoff.

Loki didn’t speak again as his eyes fluttered closed, maybe he couldn’t, but something in his expression spoke of the cost the moment held, and his acceptance of it nonetheless.

Eyes burning, promises, dreams crumbling to ash within him, Tony raised an arm, enabling the new missiles they’d designed together that had fared so well against Amora.  

The darkness, when it came, was a mercy.