st_arkravinghazelnut | Entries tagged with thor odinson

Thor Odinson leaving his domain was like seeing the full moon--a sight, but just common enough to be predictable. He "moved with the tide of mead" as Valkyrie put it. Seeing him pass the barrels without stopping? It made a splash. Before it could be interpreted as some kind of omen by the masses, Valkyrie had been quick to get a clear picture before he could leave the town.

The airport, come evening, was quiet. The There were a few people passing who stopped and whispered at the sight of the Asgardian, even a few requesting pictures. It was a far cry from the claustrophobic New York airports, though the same couldn't still be said with the five years passed. The modern white interior began to softly vibrate with footsteps and footsteps in the arrival lounge, dispersing and greeting loved ones.

I appreciate you telling me. I'll see you soon.

Tony stared at the words he'd written to Liz as he sat hunched over his journal. The breeze coming from the window by the bed he'd welcomed was too cold, now.

Peter went home.

Where was home? Right. New York. When was the last time he'd even seen New York--oh. A year to the date. Seriously? A year ago and a flight test gone awry, and now he was in a honeymoon cabin down on a lake while Peter...went home. Gone. If his brain were less blank, he'd have immediately made some conclusions with the timing of it all.

"I worried you." Thor had already claimed his usual spot on Tony's proud red couch while the ever dutiful WALL-E fetched them their usual refreshments when Tony piped up from where he leaned back against his desk. His journal sat within finger-length distance of his hand atop a stack of papers, still somewhat warm from where it had been sitting on the engineer's lap as he prepared himself for Thor's visit.

As lively as he felt these days, it felt right to give his beloved a lively greeting. A little light show from above to get his attention and a rapid descent to join his side. He wasn’t one to be completely outdone when it sounded as if Thor had something special in mind.

“Don’t keep me in suspense.” Before he could descend completely, he positioned himself to sit on the massive man’s shoulder.

~~

“They should call you God of Miserliness.” Tony piped up the very second he and Thor were left to their own devices by Maria Hill and company, gesturing after them. “See? They’re going where the party is. I’m gonna follow.” From the moment Thor mentioned smuggling some brew aged for god knows how long from god knows where made from god knows what...JUST to rub it in Tony Stark’s face that he didn’t possess the mettle for it, but Steve Rogers did?

Unforgivable. He could forgive the remarks about Pepper due to how laughably and pathetically misinformed they were, but holding out on the host was just an utter insult.

The interior of Tony's lair had seen a few makeovers as of recent. Wherever he'd set up his workspace had been the most intimate space possible--a macrocosm of his mental world where everything was happening at once, decipherable to only him. However, the space had undergone a shift ever since he opened it up to the littler ones. He suddenly found himself having to make the space accessible to other people. Inviting, even. It was...exhausting.

And this next venture was, too. But the exhaustion brought the promise of reward. It always did.

Tony lounged on the sofa (the one piece of the room he still had the most affection for) as he awaited Thor's knock. He nursed a cup of warm rum as he lounged about in a robe, having indulged in the longest bath in ages. The snow was exciting, but it sucked the life out of him.

Tony Stark was too old to play games. Every time he ran hot and cold with his partner was never a calculated power play so much as a deeply embedded habit built around mitigating whatever anxiety he’d built up. Even the old days full of ninja crawling out of bed just to avoid the morning after spiel were motivated by the intimidation (in part) of having them at all.

He’d gotten better at that part, though. Far better. Tony was curled up on the side of the long-suffering pink couch that wasn’t bearing a warped arm rest caused by some make-up rapporto sessuale from earlier in the evening, followed by a shower and the ceremonial poptart.

“You know—“ Tony brushed off some crumbs from his dark sweater, “You are terrible for my diet.”

Following the Battle of New York, Tony Stark and his brand were becoming many things. The days of being a no-accountability war profiteer were already well behind him, but he hardly anticipated playing landlord to a ragtag team of honest-to-god superheros. In the aftermath, that was one the first things he set about doing with Pepper. With her blessing, Tony had thrown himself into it. Never one to half-ass things, he oversaw the extensive remodeling to accommodate the specific needs of each and every Avenger. Several were essentially homeless and there was no initiative for the superpowerly-abled, even in a place as progressive as New York.

Including Steve. Even if he called Stark Tower ugly and immediately found an apartment somewhere in Brooklyn. Even though Tony set aside one of the top 12 floors for him like everyone else. Fine.

Today was all about adding that personal touch. He was giving free room and board, might as well be a gracious sugar daddy about it. Besides, who wanted to thwart crime with a guy or gal whose liquor of choice you couldn't name? Just bad form.

Stopping outside the luxury suite dedicated to the arguably most unique new friendly friend, Tony bounced on his heels. He contemplated just walking in for a split second, but he liked having his cranium hammer-free. And it was still about being gracious--as much as he could be. "JARVIS? Ping Point Break for me." Tony didn't feel like knocking. This was a compromise.

"Mr. Odinson, you have a visitor." JARVIS dutifully announced from within Thor's quarters.

The Iron Man armor restoration couldn't have come at a better time--it was getting nippy, and carrying around spare layers just seemed like such a waste of a good pair of hands (that's what he had Happy for, after all). With the integrated nanotech, his armor could be a pair of whatever Tony needed it to be, and a nice autumn jacket and synthetic pants perchance rain was the order of the day. And a nice thermos of black tea. Sure, 17 ounces was overkill, but it wasn't coffee on a day where he didn't 'need' it. Baby steps.

While he had taken stock of each resident and the keystone species of the surrounding terra, Tony wasn't feeling particularly enterprising that day, but he wasn't in the mood to do nothing either. Solution: analyze the flowers at the garden and cross-reference it with the Language of Flowers text he'd found perusing the library selection. An idle, sentimental sort of endeavor but frankly, why not? He'd been in a rut with his research and his clever mind was due for a reprieve.

His fingers toyed with the petals of a rose whose thick branches elegantly climbed over a white trellis, splashing it with thick bouquets of red. Was there a rule in place about touching the flowers? Ah, well. He wasn't removing anything--'There went a petal. And another. It was going to happen eventually.' He took his hand back and looked to the side innocently. There, his eyes caught a bit of movement past a boxwood hedge. Two broad backs, working in unison. Unable to catch their faces, neither Tony nor F.R.I.D.A.Y. could discern the identities. They seemed too animated to be one of the laboring automatons.

"Nice roses." Tony called, simply to get a reaction out of whomever it happened to be.

Flying was freedom. That was one of the truths that remained in their prison.

Tony Stark was no longer forcing his limbs into the suit, nor was he weighed down with fear of its imminent failure or the pain of maintaining it through will power and little else. No, it once again became his second skin. His thrusters propelled him on high as he approached the altitude of the barrier. Its dimensions were well documented and he had no fear of crashing into it. There wasn't even the lingering anxiety of tracking Thor to the ends of the fishbowl--the man had taken his tent, and Tony had taken care to install trackers well ahead of time in anticipation of this exact scenario. He could have found him at once, had he been so inclined. But three days was three days, and the time he had been granted on his own was time he could return in kind.

After all, time spent to oneself was sometimes the only medicine. But Tony wouldn't let too much time pass without at least checking in. So was his duty as Thor's friend and, well, everything he was to the man.

His resolve, his triumph, it all equaled out to a baseline of contentment that he indulged in to watch the scenery unfold with new eyes. When had the dry, cracked earth evolved into slopes of grass backlit by a distant, gleaming shore? Cedarwoods and cypresses were laid out in a patchwork of somber greens. As the water approached, so did the faint mists, muting the scenery. The clouds had rolled in, lingering and promising rain. Tony's contentment became sobriety.

As Tony descended upon a pointed cliffside, there he was. At the crest sat the lonely figure he sought meters away. Quietly, Tony's armor re-formed into a thick jacket. He looked at the distance behind him--the silhouettes of hills utterly obscured any sign of the hotel. He turned back ahead and approached in no particular hurry. His footsteps were made soft by the grass and the sounds of winds and crashing waves. Coming up on Thor's side, he took in the sight of his meditative profile and simply lowered to sit beside him.

Absolute devastation. That was the only way to describe it.

It was utterly senseless, yet coldly methodical. The Madonna Inn, the inescapable steadfast, had become utterly trifling in how easily it was torn asunder. The barrier separating it from each residents' home had been obliterated. A gauntletted hand through tissue.

The bitterly cruel irony was that few residents still lived to witness this come to pass.

"Your kingdom, Odinson. Your people." The Titan wrenched Thor up from the ground, fingers circling his skull. "False idols. Comfortable lies for an uneasy head."

Blast. Recharge. Blast. Recharge. Blast Set up the fresh targets.

That had been Tony Stark's refrain for the last three days. The first day was dedicated solely to holding it as far from the hotel as humanly possible into the most remote desert location possible. Himself and his new toys, all alone. And the tent. There was no scenario where he wouldn't take that for the ride.

The plasma auto rifle--today's plaything--boasted rapid fire and plasma grenades. With nothing but sand, rock, and dust for miles, Tony was free to let loose. For the bigger blasts, Tony activated his armor--which was up to several minutes of stability at a time. With a sigh, the time limit ran out and he was left in his tank and fatigues bottoms. Adjusting it to the stun setting, he took aim at the few remaining targets.

Destiny was swiftly approaching its apex.

The final Infinity Stone was his.

Every ounce of his sacrifices, his will, and his ideals had built up to this moment. The salvation of the universe was written in stone, with him as its savior. The power surged forth, and Thanos could only behold it.

Suddenly, he was struck down. Lightning. Odinson. Defiant of destiny until the end, all for what? Thanos lifted raised his gauntlet to meet the god head on--

A sickening crunch. A burst of light following the clash of the Infinity Gauntlet against the God of Thunder's newly forged weapon--and the Mad Titan was looking down at Stormbreaker embedded within his chest. Odinson landed before him, and for the first time in his life, Thanos knelt.