#p:jane

[noeila]

i wonder what jane-vision is like…

[noeila]

mike always finds a way to make explosions~

bonus:

[ru-thomas-blog]

legality || ruby & jane

@janeglow

Ruby had found herself in a place she’d never wanted to be in, the place where she was at someone else’s mercy. Having grown up at the mercy of her father, then her brothers, Ruby’s entire focus and goal in life hinged on her control of it. But it wasn’t surprising in the least that she’d stumbled into the dangerous side of the art business. That’s how money had been covered up for centuries. The way to show wealth and power was to display original works, handmade and unique, and as long as someone else wanted it enough, it kept its value. She’d known all along that she walked a very fine legal line. That was part of the enticement of the profession.

Jane Glasgow had been referred to her by a client in an offhanded comment. “You know how you dealers all end up in some sort of legal battle,” was how the conversation began, and then a scribbled amount of information on the back of an irrelevant business card was shoved into her hand before the patron wandered off in search of more free wine, as expected. Three phone calls and an appointment later, Ruby was seated in the lawyer’s office awaiting her meeting. She had yet to tell anyone of her mistake, her miscalculation of people. It was embarrassing, and something her brothers would never let her live down. Had she done it on purpose, they’d have respected her for pragmatic business decisions, but this time... pure accident.

After being ushered into the lawyer’s personal office, Ruby smiled and extended a hand. “Ms. Glasgow, it’s wonderful to meet you finally. I’ve heard and read quite a bit of you. Thank you for taking my appointment.” Politely, she took her seat and began to prepare her explanation in her head.

[tonyshellheadstark-blog]

The Final Frontier || Tony, Peter Q, Jane

Tony liked space. That wasn’t a secret: one look into his files, his highly publicized early projects, and his massive amounts of donations to independent astrophysicists and astrologers worldwide (NASA be damned) would have painted that picture. Tony liked space a lot, liked it enough to have dreamed half his life about being an astronaut, about stepping foot on foreign planets, about floating, the freedom of zero gravity. And then he’d had that dream effectively snubbed out by Howard Stark’s insistence that NASA had already “done everything that needed to be done,” that the real world needed enough protecting already and that it was “irresponsible” to have his head in the clouds (he’d tried arguing that it wasn’t in the clouds but in the airless vaccuum of the universe where a condensed mass of water vapor was highly unlikely to originate due to the lack of atmosphere but that hadn’t really worked either) and Tony had effectively given up. Tony had dreamed of the stars, and he’d settled for a very tall tower.

And then a spaceship ended up parked in his backyard, and like the Avengers, like the X-Men, a new team had emerged: the Guardians of the Galaxy, and if you thought that was strange, you clearly hadn’t been living in a house full of super soldiers and gods for the last couple of years. Tony had seen weirder things in the time it took between waking up and snagging a cup of coffee, and yet Tony really really liked space, and so while he couldn’t say he was surprised to learn that there was a team of cross-galaxy travellers taking a siesta on Planet Earth, he also couldn’t say he wasn’t out-of-his-mind and ecstatically excited either. 

Tony had met with the tree first because somehow his husband--and he really wasn’t over that actually, distracted, usually, just by the sound of the word--had gone ahead and befriended the first talking (sort of) mass of bark he’d come across. Tony had come home on more than one occasion to find the sapling sitting on his own pillow repeating the phrase “I am Groot” half a dozen times while Steve told him a long winded story. It was Groot that had given him the idea, giving him the a-okay to check out the ship, and it was Groot who led him now. Tony whistled as he drew close then raised an eyebrow as he heard a clattering inside. “You got company, Smalls?” he asked Groot, and as the tree pointed, Tony followed his tiny finger toward the figure of a man within, a man Tony half recognized from the poorly put together SHIELD file. Peter Quill, captain, owner, and pilot of the ship. Tony grinned. This day was just getting better and better. 

[tonyshellheadstark-blog]

This House Is A Circus || Jane & Tony

Tony hadn't been back in the tower long--not long enough to sleep anyway. From the very second he'd gotten off the plane from Malibu, he'd immediately rushed to the medical wing to "deprogram" the Winter Soldier, and seeing as that was a long, painful, nerve-wracking process, it had left very little time for resting or, well, generally doing anything but worrying. Not to mention, when the process was over, it left enough screaming in your head to guarantee a few sleepless nights to come. So, twenty-four hours after the procedure and seventy-two since he'd last slept, Tony was still up and working, only taking a break to stumble, half aware of everything, into the kitchen to grab more coffee.

He'd already filled up a mug the size of his head before it occurred to him that he was not, as he'd assumed, alone in the kitchen. Of course, that wasn't anything out of the ordinary; a normal morning in Avenger's Tower meant running into Steve while he was scrambling eggs and making enough toast to feed a middle school, or watching Pop-Tarts disappear before your eyes as Thor had his mid-morning snack, or Bruce brewing tea, or Natasha...well, doing whatever it was that Natasha did (Tony wasn't sure that he'd ever actually seen her eat since their legendary emptying of the Shawarma joint after the battle of New York). Except that the other presence in the kitchen was not one of Tony's high metabolizing team members, but a very pretty woman who Tony might have thought to instinctively flirt with if he'd a.) not been too tired to think, b.) too busy daydreaming about a particular other to bother mustering up the energy to flirt with someone else, and c.) remembered in time from SHIELD'S photographs, that the woman was in fact Jane Foster, Thor's girlfriend--the renowned genius and one of the best scientific minds of their time (not to mention, again, Thor's girlfriend who he was very, very attached to, and who Tony did not want to see angry. Ever. At least not if he was on the other side of that rage anyway). 

In theory at least, Tony had a world of respect for the woman; he'd read up on her work, and she was nothing less than an expert, not to mention someone who had supposedly not gotten along with SHIELD (always a plus in Tony's book, except for perhaps Hydra agents). Still, he'd never met her in person, had nothing but her work and Thor's recommendation to judge her by, and Loki was enough of a glaring warning sign against trusting Thor's judgement without question. Yet, even if by some strange twist of fate she turned out to be evil, Tony couldn't exactly pretend that that would change his mind about her entirely; science was science, and intellect always seemed to attract his attention first and then morals later. It was always such a shame fighting a villain with wasted intellectual potential.  

He cleared his throat. "Hello, person who doesn't live here," he said, leaning back against the counter and taking a long sip of his coffee. Immediately, he felt the rush of caffeine and sugar, and remembered again why he'd thought it possible to give up sleep entirely. "If you're not Jane, we might have a problem here." 

[s0-this-is-l0ve-ellaglass]

Ella knocked heavily on Jane's dorm door. "Jane! Come on! We're gonna be late!" She could hardly contain her smile. Levi was going to ask her to prom. Prom! Oh Jane was going to love his promposal! Ella shifted her weight to her other foot. She bit her lip and stared at the door. She would not let Levi down.

[the-calm-before-the-hulk]

Caution: Physicists at Work || Jane + Bruce

Bruce ran the tests one last time. 5,000 dose-rem. Level 5 radiation poisoning, dead within days. How Jen and he weren't dead still a mystery. He wasn't looking for a cure anymore, but that didn't mean he wasn't looking for answers. He was searching really for anything that could help him learn how to control the Hulk.  It would be a slow process he knew that, but he'd been hopeful for different results earlier on. He'd stop by Tony's lab soon and see if he could come up with anything different on the frankly, better equipment. It was lunch break though, so packing up his notes and disposing of his samples in the bio-hazard bin he made his way out of the lab to his next class, hopefully before the tardy bell would manage to ring on him again. Mind distracted, still thinking about his test results he didn't notice the girl in the hall until he ran into her. "Sorry!" he rambled off collecting his notes that had fallen on the floor of the science building's hall. 

[tommoknows]

Helping Out → Tommy and Jane.

Standing tall, Thomas' emerald hues surveyed the living room. Clean, dusted, tidy. The fort Teddy had built him was still propped up, permanently, in the middle of the empty space between the invisible separation of the lounging area and attached kitchen, and in the corner, just behind him, sat the television -- playing to itself. Any moment now, Tom was expecting a knock on the door, signalling promised company of his friend, Jane, who he'd recently learned had burnt her hand after accidentally setting fire to her bedsheets. It was a silly thing to hear, and almost had him laughing, until concern slapped him across the face, and he was immediately wondering if the poor girl was alright.

Walking through the living room, curls bouncing about his heated face, Thomas stopped to glance over his reflection; black skinnies, a stretched vest and a pair of his favourite 'The Simpsons' socks. Simple enough. Journeying into the kitchen, the boy didn't hesitate to pull open the fridge and grab the bowl of wobbling, red jelly, dimples poking his cheeks as he smiled, illuminated by the light of the refrigerator. Door closing, Thomas was left in the soothing lights of the suspension above the island, which he sat himself at after grabbing a spoon. Diving it downwards, he grinned to himself as he watched it cut through the shaking substance, and a soft hum rumbled in his throat as he emptied a small spoonful into his warm mouth. Delicious.