There's a completely reasonable explanation why he's sitting on the floor in front of Thor, god of thunder, as electricity zaps between his fingers, jellyfish tentacles writhe off his arms, and a dildo vibrates in his ass.
Exhibit A:
Tony's been working on this suit for a while. Like, a while. In fact, if you consider "mental planning" part of the inventing process (and Tony totally does), then he's been on it for months -- since the morning after The Night of Regret, when he first slammed back into his workspace and feverishly considered what might prevent the previous evening from ever happening again. And even if you don't count mental planning, schematic-building is a definite start point, and Tony began that in earnest around mid-August, as soon as he completed successful test runs of the Mk. Ll and felt comfortable moving onto a version with... additional features.
Which is how the Mk. Lƒ officially became a thing. (No one gets any points for guessing what the "ƒ" stands for.)
So Tony's been working on it for, as emphasized previously, a while. With discretion. Obviously, it hasn't taken priority over dissecting Lunatian devices and analyzing Chroma consumption, and it definitely hasn't come out of Tony's super-casually-named desktop folder whenever Bruce joins him in the now-shared workspace. But when Iris starts to rise into the sky, and Bruce is banned from the apartment anyway, and Tony's alone and fidgety and increasingly agitated (these are euphemisms), then... sure, he'll work on it. Maybe with more gusto than usual. And one hand.
....Anyway.
Exhibit B:
The necklace.
It's no secret Tony's been varying degrees of curious and frustrated with the constant use of magic in this place, and the fact that he apparently can't get in on any of it. Not that he particularly wants to, but he's concluded at this point that understanding this place's illogical laws of physics is the only way he's going to get anywhere on the technological side of things. So, he's been thinking. And scheming. He's got a couple avenues of interest, one being Cirrus' equippable "materia" stones, and the other being... his own Iris electricity. He's played with it before -- zapping objects, measuring voltage, seeing what he can do. The answer has been "not much," but the potential of an electricity-specific power in the literal palm of his hand hasn't escaped his calculations, especially after reading about a "Moonstone Necklace" on the network that can amplify a person's power if they're pricked with it.
So... he tracked down one of the traveling hockers who sell it, and put down the money, and has been staring at it on-and-off ever since. For like a month. Until it occurred to him last night that it was as good a time as any, especially if he was going to be testing the Mk. Lƒ the next day anyway. (And maybe because he needed an immediate distraction from his conversation with Natasha, but y'know.)
So that happened. And he woke up the next morning, and stumbled in a groggy haze to the coffeemaker, and touched it, and -- fried it. Immediately. With a giant arc of electricity from his palm through the wiring, which left him in a cloud of regret and burnt plastic on an Iris day that he had already, from his pre-breakfast activities, judged to be an Extremely Not Safe Day.
Exhibit C:
Tony knows Thor's weekly routine like the back of his hand. He assumed -- reasonably -- that he wouldn't be in his apartment if he snuck up there to use the coffee machine, and even if he was, what better time to try out the Mk. Lƒ for exactly what it was designed to handle?
Exhibit D:
Tony is human. He is sometimes, shockingly, wrong.
Exhibit E:
He just really wanted some coffee, man.]
I'm not nervous, [he mutters. It's not a complete lie, considering that the reason for his tense body language has nothing to do with fear of hurting Thor, and everything to do with fear of Thor finding out What's Up (or rather, what's being Held Down by the padding under Tony's crotch plate).
He scowls and shakes his hand out, causing tiny sparks of static electricity to jump in-between his fingers. Then he leans back, which means he sits back, onto it, and a breath heaves out of his chest that he hopes he can play off as exasperation rather than... the other thing.]
Hey, listen, I'm uh. Okay, man. Totally... okay. Hey. [He jerks his thumb at the door.] I think I'm gonna go back to, y'know, somewhere I won't damage anything, rather than--
[His thigh shifts half an inch against the floor, sending his custom-built, 100% nano-materialized, body-safe silicone polymer-encased phallus straight up against the spot that his wonderful blessing of the moon has decided that he just -- y'know, really loves, just completely... craves to a harrowing degree. He grits his teeth and chokes out a sound in the back of his throat as a bolt of lightning shoots out his thumb, to the umbrella stand, up the coat rack, and sets a jacket on fire.]
[ Tony goes along with the idea of training as well as Thor can expect, which is to say that he whines and heaves great sighs and only barely complies. Thor does his best not to give Tony any quarter to draw him into an argument. He simply waits for him to make the attempt to get his power under control.
But Thor has to admit, sitting across from him, it's obvious that this is effecting Tony more than he wants to let on. His breathing is a little too erratic, and he moves gingerly, without his usual overconfidence. When he goes rigid, Thor's eye widens in alarm, and not because of the spark.
He starts to reach for Tony, but the fire is catching quickly, and practicality wins out this time. With an irritated growl, Thor is up and moving, yanking the jacket out of the closet so that he can smother it before the flame begins to spread. It's one of Tony's jackets, meaning that it is - was, expensive, and not so easily healed or replaced. Normally he might say something about that - living here has instilled a certain financial awareness in him - but at the moment, it isn't what he's concerned about.
After the flurry of motion, the apartment seems almost too still, and the smells of smoke and ozone hang heavy in the air. Thor exhales slowly.
When he goes back to Tony, he takes a knee before him, and places his hands on either side of Tony's face. He's rougher than he should be, and there's a sharpness in his voice, but Thor's expression is full of open and genuine concern. ]
You aren't going anywhere. Tony - are you in pain? [ It's difficult to tell, even now. It wouldn't surprise him if Tony has been trying to hide it, and had instead decided he could escape and deal with it himself. ] Is this - has the magic done something to your suit?
[Tony only has enough time to catch his breath and make the vague realization of oh, that's my jacket Thor's stamping on, before his roommate (a.k.a. King of Asgard, a.k.a. Lord of Beefcakes) walks over, kneels down in front of him, and clasps his hands against either side of his jaw, ugent. Maybe a little rough, even.
Oh. Man. God. Uh.
He blinks up at Thor and wonders if -- have his eyes always been that blue? Or is it just his own bioluminescence reflected in them? Probably the latter, though that doesn't make Tony feel much better about the tension in his lungs, the butterflies in his stomach, and -- goddammit, it's not even Cordis.
He inhales and tries to regain his bearings, but all he gets is the sharp edge of acrid smoke in his nostrils from burnt cloth and vinyl. He winces his eyes closed and shakes his head, all too aware of the points of Thor's touch -- and Chroma transfer -- as they move with him.]
You... you could say that, I guess. Or. I mean, indirectly. [Tony tries super hard to convince himself his voice came out completely, convincingly normal, and not strained, or weird, or sort of cracking like a sixteen year-old's in front of the school homecoming queen. Football star? Whatever, whatever--]
I... [He takes a deep breath. He grits his teeth against another thrum of buzzy contact that thrums through him, right against his stupid, desperate prostate, or like -- at least adjacent to it, because he's genuinely unsure whether a direct hit in this moment would set him off in such ways that it'd be an opportunity to test a different type of bodily containment he's built into this stupid prototype suit, and why -- why was he dumb enough to come here in the first place?
Because it was a good excuse, a little voice whispers. Let the moons set it up, and -- oops, I did it again.
Tony yanks his head backward, but it meets resistance against Thor's hands, strong and unmoving. His cheeks burn, red and hot, as he winces his eyes shut.]
I'm -- I mean. [Words, Stark. He swallows.]
I'm fine, it's just. [Pause.] Iris. Y'know.
[Maybe Thor will figure it out. Maybe he won't. Tony's not sure which outcome he dreads more.]
[ Tony sounds strained, despite what Thor assumes are his best efforts.
He eases his grip, but only enough to move his hand down to the center of Tony's chest while Tony stumbles through fragments of an explanation that Thor still doesn't truly understand. ]
Be still. [ His own magic isn't a subtle thing, but that doesn't mean it can't be wielded with some finesse. Veins of lighting flash just beneath his own skin, and the blue of his eye is subtly alight.
He doesn't know if this will work at all, but he tries to attune himself to the flow of electricity within Tony and his suit. He's charged the suit before, he just needs to be careful not to feed it too much this time.
It's difficult to separate the suit and Tony at first, but it all seems concentrated near the ground, contained within the suit where--
The glow from Thor stops abruptly, his expression clouded with confusion. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
industries) wrote2019-05-15 09:19 pm
[nsfw starts here 🌶️]
There's a completely reasonable explanation why he's sitting on the floor in front of Thor, god of thunder, as electricity zaps between his fingers, jellyfish tentacles writhe off his arms, and a dildo vibrates in his ass.
Exhibit A:
Tony's been working on this suit for a while. Like, a while. In fact, if you consider "mental planning" part of the inventing process (and Tony totally does), then he's been on it for months -- since the morning after The Night of Regret, when he first slammed back into his workspace and feverishly considered what might prevent the previous evening from ever happening again. And even if you don't count mental planning, schematic-building is a definite start point, and Tony began that in earnest around mid-August, as soon as he completed successful test runs of the Mk. Ll and felt comfortable moving onto a version with... additional features.
Which is how the Mk. Lƒ officially became a thing. (No one gets any points for guessing what the "ƒ" stands for.)
So Tony's been working on it for, as emphasized previously, a while. With discretion. Obviously, it hasn't taken priority over dissecting Lunatian devices and analyzing Chroma consumption, and it definitely hasn't come out of Tony's super-casually-named desktop folder whenever Bruce joins him in the now-shared workspace. But when Iris starts to rise into the sky, and Bruce is banned from the apartment anyway, and Tony's alone and fidgety and increasingly agitated (these are euphemisms), then... sure, he'll work on it. Maybe with more gusto than usual. And one hand.
....Anyway.
Exhibit B:
The necklace.
It's no secret Tony's been varying degrees of curious and frustrated with the constant use of magic in this place, and the fact that he apparently can't get in on any of it. Not that he particularly wants to, but he's concluded at this point that understanding this place's illogical laws of physics is the only way he's going to get anywhere on the technological side of things. So, he's been thinking. And scheming. He's got a couple avenues of interest, one being Cirrus' equippable "materia" stones, and the other being... his own Iris electricity. He's played with it before -- zapping objects, measuring voltage, seeing what he can do. The answer has been "not much," but the potential of an electricity-specific power in the literal palm of his hand hasn't escaped his calculations, especially after reading about a "Moonstone Necklace" on the network that can amplify a person's power if they're pricked with it.
So... he tracked down one of the traveling hockers who sell it, and put down the money, and has been staring at it on-and-off ever since. For like a month. Until it occurred to him last night that it was as good a time as any, especially if he was going to be testing the Mk. Lƒ the next day anyway. (And maybe because he needed an immediate distraction from his conversation with Natasha, but y'know.)
So that happened. And he woke up the next morning, and stumbled in a groggy haze to the coffeemaker, and touched it, and -- fried it. Immediately. With a giant arc of electricity from his palm through the wiring, which left him in a cloud of regret and burnt plastic on an Iris day that he had already, from his pre-breakfast activities, judged to be an Extremely Not Safe Day.
Exhibit C:
Tony knows Thor's weekly routine like the back of his hand. He assumed -- reasonably -- that he wouldn't be in his apartment if he snuck up there to use the coffee machine, and even if he was, what better time to try out the Mk. Lƒ for exactly what it was designed to handle?
Exhibit D:
Tony is human. He is sometimes, shockingly, wrong.
Exhibit E:
He just really wanted some coffee, man.]
I'm not nervous, [he mutters. It's not a complete lie, considering that the reason for his tense body language has nothing to do with fear of hurting Thor, and everything to do with fear of Thor finding out What's Up (or rather, what's being Held Down by the padding under Tony's crotch plate).
He scowls and shakes his hand out, causing tiny sparks of static electricity to jump in-between his fingers. Then he leans back, which means he sits back, onto it, and a breath heaves out of his chest that he hopes he can play off as exasperation rather than... the other thing.]
Hey, listen, I'm uh. Okay, man. Totally... okay. Hey. [He jerks his thumb at the door.] I think I'm gonna go back to, y'know, somewhere I won't damage anything, rather than--
[His thigh shifts half an inch against the floor, sending his custom-built, 100% nano-materialized, body-safe silicone polymer-encased phallus straight up against the spot that his wonderful blessing of the moon has decided that he just -- y'know, really loves, just completely... craves to a harrowing degree. He grits his teeth and chokes out a sound in the back of his throat as a bolt of lightning shoots out his thumb, to the umbrella stand, up the coat rack, and sets a jacket on fire.]
no subject
But Thor has to admit, sitting across from him, it's obvious that this is effecting Tony more than he wants to let on. His breathing is a little too erratic, and he moves gingerly, without his usual overconfidence. When he goes rigid, Thor's eye widens in alarm, and not because of the spark.
He starts to reach for Tony, but the fire is catching quickly, and practicality wins out this time. With an irritated growl, Thor is up and moving, yanking the jacket out of the closet so that he can smother it before the flame begins to spread. It's one of Tony's jackets, meaning that it is - was, expensive, and not so easily healed or replaced. Normally he might say something about that - living here has instilled a certain financial awareness in him - but at the moment, it isn't what he's concerned about.
After the flurry of motion, the apartment seems almost too still, and the smells of smoke and ozone hang heavy in the air. Thor exhales slowly.
When he goes back to Tony, he takes a knee before him, and places his hands on either side of Tony's face. He's rougher than he should be, and there's a sharpness in his voice, but Thor's expression is full of open and genuine concern. ]
You aren't going anywhere. Tony - are you in pain? [ It's difficult to tell, even now. It wouldn't surprise him if Tony has been trying to hide it, and had instead decided he could escape and deal with it himself. ] Is this - has the magic done something to your suit?
no subject
Oh. Man. God. Uh.
He blinks up at Thor and wonders if -- have his eyes always been that blue? Or is it just his own bioluminescence reflected in them? Probably the latter, though that doesn't make Tony feel much better about the tension in his lungs, the butterflies in his stomach, and -- goddammit, it's not even Cordis.
He inhales and tries to regain his bearings, but all he gets is the sharp edge of acrid smoke in his nostrils from burnt cloth and vinyl. He winces his eyes closed and shakes his head, all too aware of the points of Thor's touch -- and Chroma transfer -- as they move with him.]
You... you could say that, I guess. Or. I mean, indirectly. [Tony tries super hard to convince himself his voice came out completely, convincingly normal, and not strained, or weird, or sort of cracking like a sixteen year-old's in front of the school homecoming queen. Football star? Whatever, whatever--]
I... [He takes a deep breath. He grits his teeth against another thrum of buzzy contact that thrums through him, right against his stupid, desperate prostate, or like -- at least adjacent to it, because he's genuinely unsure whether a direct hit in this moment would set him off in such ways that it'd be an opportunity to test a different type of bodily containment he's built into this stupid prototype suit, and why -- why was he dumb enough to come here in the first place?
Because it was a good excuse, a little voice whispers. Let the moons set it up, and -- oops, I did it again.
Tony yanks his head backward, but it meets resistance against Thor's hands, strong and unmoving. His cheeks burn, red and hot, as he winces his eyes shut.]
I'm -- I mean. [Words, Stark. He swallows.]
I'm fine, it's just. [Pause.] Iris. Y'know.
[Maybe Thor will figure it out. Maybe he won't. Tony's not sure which outcome he dreads more.]
no subject
He eases his grip, but only enough to move his hand down to the center of Tony's chest while Tony stumbles through fragments of an explanation that Thor still doesn't truly understand. ]
Be still. [ His own magic isn't a subtle thing, but that doesn't mean it can't be wielded with some finesse. Veins of lighting flash just beneath his own skin, and the blue of his eye is subtly alight.
He doesn't know if this will work at all, but he tries to attune himself to the flow of electricity within Tony and his suit. He's charged the suit before, he just needs to be careful not to feed it too much this time.
It's difficult to separate the suit and Tony at first, but it all seems concentrated near the ground, contained within the suit where--
The glow from Thor stops abruptly, his expression clouded with confusion. ]
What... Are you doing to yourself?