Here's to my future, Here's to my yesterday

[nonstopnarcissist]

WHO: Tony Stark
WHERE: Village, Forge, Spring
WHEN: September 29th - October 7th
OPEN TO: Marked prompts are locked, ota marks are ota
WARNINGS: Swearing, descriptions of canon appropriate violence, recreational weed use

---

September 29th - [ Locked to Iron Bull, Kamala, Elena, Steve Rogers ]

He doesn't know why he thought it'd be a stroke of midnight kind of deal, a bibbity-bobbity-fuck-you' sort of thing but, well, he thought it'd be one moment of having a full, unscarred chest and all his youthful spring and a jolt before he went back to having a chest full of shrapnel scarring and shitty, shitty knees. A more gradual decline is- well. Probably less traumatic and more reasonable, thank you mysterious sciencey bullshit magic overlords, but no thank you, not really. By the time he makes his way to the Inn some of the grey hair's back, the ache in his shoulders from working the forge hard and long for the last two weeks, settling in, an odd hitch to his breathing he cant quite peg as being mostly normal until it wasn't. It's nothing, he's fine, this was expected, right? Right. Just means he takes a little bit longer to squint down at his notes while he eats lunch, stands up slow as his spine pops like a set of firecrackers when he clears out.

Work, predictably, slows down somewhat at the Forge. He can't hit as hard, as long, as he might've the day before- which is probably a sign shit is going down with his system but denial thy name is Tony 'Fuck You I Reject Your Reality And Substitute My Own' Stark. He's not going to give in to the fact the hammer feels heavier, drawing the wire feels more difficult, or that he's got a building migraine (Which he hadn't had for the past two weeks, what a fucking joy it's been). Nope. He's sweating, taking breaks, and denying that he should probably just. Take a day. One more hour? Maybe two.

End of the day- earlier than he's been clearing out for the last while- and he's resigned himself to taking maybe one or two days of just to recover. Admitting that yeah, he's back to how he was when he arrived, now (minus the hole Thanos gave him) at least to himself Tony's taking a not so long walk to the Fountain for a bucket to shut down the forge- leaving it to burn attended for that Long? Asking for trouble. It's not the walk to the Fountain. It's not dropping the bucket in and filling it, it's hauling it up that hits him hardest. He manages- barely, to get it up to the lip before that hitch he's had all day doubles down and locks in with, oh, right, he's missing parts of his lungs and shit- and he's forgotten how to breathe through it. Tony slumps against the ledge, hand pressed to his chest, eyes squeezed shut as he tries and fails to get any actual air in his mangled lungs.

October 1 - 7th OTA

Two days of weren't exactly enough after pushing so hard for so long and letting it all catch up to him- Tony'll never admit it, not in a million years, but he's...taking it easy. Handling theoretical work for the time being. Which means research at the School House, or hiking all the way over to the Mill to see what he's working with RE getting some kind of analog power set up- or making a hydroelectric power a more consistent kind of deal. He'd been by before but now? It's less pacing and measuring, more sitting, listening to the wheel work, and letting his mind wander. It's actually kind of peaceful.

The hooka of weed probably doesn't hurt much either, but joint pain is joint pain and self medicating is something he's got a history of. As long as he's tucked up in the mill he's not likely to expose Pete or Kamala to the terrible habit. Theoretical Engineering under the influence has always led to some interesting (only somewhat implausible) ideas. Couldn't hurt.

Most nights he makes the trek out to the Springs- only once measuring a flattish area for changing stalls or whatever before giving up on it for the time being. His stuff's packed up somewhere safe (in a zebra print bag that use to be a snuggie, tied to a tree) He's got a canteen of water and a few peaches to gnaw on. Might as well double dip on bullshit accelerated healing assistants.

Later still, when he can't sleep, when he can't work due to lack of light or lack of energy he sits on the porch of House 34 staring out into the night, mug of tea at his elbow. Quiet. Contemplative like he normally isn't, hands twisting and turning a length of delicate chain between his fingers as he wills himself into exhaustion- or at the very least attempts to do so.

Comments

get high

[womanofvalue]

After the incident with the wart hog, Peggy feels a touch awful, but she needs to randomize this connection on the device because she's a touch unnerved by having her mind brush up against a plant being the way it has been. Fiddling with it, what she doesn't expect it to accidentally hit the connection button just as she's approaching Tony, who seems to be in the midst of smoking something that she smells before she sees him.

Frowning, her hand draws away from the device, connection made, but a mild note of disappointment bubbling in her mind. At least I never found Howard like this is an absent thought, but with the connection, Tony will hear it.

"That bad?"

[nonstopnarcissist]

That odd app on his wristband had been weird enough (the resulting conversation with Steve even weirder) but Tony's left it on for sheer novelty. Nothing bone deep mortifying tends to cross his mind in a way that's lasting and, well. A little mental surveillance can't hurt. Color him curious.

Leaving it on while he got quietly baked? Maybe not the best idea.

belt driven systems but where to get the belts we have leather but not enough and peta's not a thing here fur is murder is paint is a pain winter's coming and people need to keep warm charcoal does only so much foot warmers bed warmers radiators what about the power lines though- underground spiderwebs spider man spiderling Peter-

"Huh what?" He blinks, eyes already a little red, smoke furling from his nostrils as he squints at Peggy and. Oh. That'd been a thought about his dad, huh? "Pretty sure he'd hated this shit."

[womanofvalue]

Her head is going to hurt quite soon after even twenty minutes of this, Peggy suspects, but at the same time, she'd never want to turn it off and imply to Tony that she doesn't want him in her head. Still, thinking about the words, she narrows in on a few that she intends to pick up.

"Your father was a very strange man with very specific likes," she notes. "Like Velveeta," is the deadpan, her mind flickering to thoughts of him and Jarvis over breakfast, a warm and fond almost-memory that gives her joy. "What are you planning to do with Peter?" she asks, on the heels of that memory, hoping to get the truth from Tony.

Fountain

[ex_enlisted288]

Steve is on his way to the Inn for a quick bite, figuring at this time of day fewer people will be around. He's also half-checking on the fountain itself, also because many of the villagers are off doing their own thing, and what if someone new arrives. He remembers how disoriented he was and how having a friendly face (or friendly-ish) might do a little bit of good.

He doesn't expect to see Tony of all people, curled up on the edge of the fountain, looking like he's -- having trouble breathing. Steve is across the little square and crouching in front of Tony before he consciously realizes it. Up close, he reaches out, not quite touching the other man, but waving his hand to get his attention.

"Hey, Tony. It's Steve and I need you to listen. Just for a few minutes. Is it your breathing? Just nod if it is."

Because that looks a lot like an asthma attack.

[nonstopnarcissist]

He used to be able to do this. It was every fucking day since Afghanistan, it shouldn't be difficult, and yet-

Steve comes in while his eyes are closed and the sound of someone, anyone suddenly in his space while he's not 100%? Has Tony jolting away, twisting to press his back against solid stone (no one can shoot him through rock this solid) hand snapping up in what for most might be a 'hold up' or 'back off' posture but- people that know Tony, know Iron Man could recognize it for what it is: The default firing posture for a repulsor.

That he doesn't have.

He sucks air in through his teeth with a shallow wheeze, blinking at Rogers. Fucking. Really? Eyes rolling- he nods. Fucking. Lungs.

[ex_enlisted288]

Yeah, well, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Just rushing up was probably a bad idea. Next time, if there is a next time, he'll attempt to think about doing something more sedate while coming to the assistance of someone else.

As it stands, Steve doesn't flinch back. He recognizes the arm posture and ignores it. For now. Doubts and getting yelled at are for later.

"Sorry." But maybe he will apologize. Just to get things onto an easier playing field. "Okay. I want you to take a slow, big breath. Hold it for five seconds, and let it out. Then repeat a few times until your chest stops hurting.

And it is gonna hurt." He sounds apologetic about that, too.

Mill time

[killorder]

Jake should be doing a lot more that day, and he knows it. He's got snare traps he wants to check on, seeing if they even work, and he should see if there's other ways he can help around the village. If nothing else he's determined to be helpful, to be the soldier that he vowed to be for the Losers, because he won't let himself sink into depression wondering just where Cougar is and what's going on with the unit.

Instead he's wandering the village, Cougar's hat curled up in his hand and not on his head, and trying to pretend he's doing much of anything but looking for the other man.

Realizing he hasn't hit up the mill in his search, he feels a bit of a perk at the thought it might actually be something useful for him to do. Ducking inside, pulling the door closed behind him and not realizing he's not alone yet as he pauses, letting his eyes adjust as he catches the waft of smoke.

Okay, either not alone or this is going to be bad.

"Uhmm, hello?"

[nonstopnarcissist]

"Over here." Which is less direct than it ought to be, baked Tony thought sitting on the largest horizontal wheel of the mill as it turned low and steady was a fantastic idea, making his voice bounce as the world spun idly around. He waved as he went by, coughing a little after his lungfull of smoke. "Or, here? I'm coming around again, hang on-"

The dismount would be tricky but- he bundled himself and his hose up to hop down, only stumbling a little when he hit the ground. "Oh, man. Okay that might not have been the best idea ever."

[killorder]

Jake's head snaps up, following the sound of the voice... and then following the wheel and the figure on it. His mouth opens and then closes, not even sure what to make of this guy.

Then he prepares himself and Jake takes a step forward.

"Maybe you should..."

And then it doesn't matter as the guy jumps. He stumbles and Jake rushes forward, already trying to help as the guy works to regain his foot.

"Hey. You sure? You didn't turn your ankle or anything, did you?"

forge

[copingskills]

[She's noticed.

It had been gradual, but it would be impossible for her not to, especially today. That endless list of things to do is running Tony into the ground in more ways that she might have thought possible, and though she's gently suggested he take breaks here and there, she wasn't surprised they hadn't stuck.

She was going to have to put her foot down before he ran himself into the ground.]

Alright-

[At this point, she literally walks over and pulls the hammer out of his grip as he's drawing it back, tucking it behind her back where he can't immediately reach for it.]

-As your personal assistant, I'm canceling the rest of your day.

[nonstopnarcissist]

[ It says something that she actually can pull it away while he's trying to think about where he needs to hit next- and for half a second he's pure confusion before it registers-

Right, there's someone else with him that he'd been talking to.

And she's gone and pulled a Pepper. Rude. ]

I'm just about finished with this brace- [ Or at least this part of the brace. ] And the fittings for Bull's spaulder need to be cast.

[copingskills]

[If Pepper's not here to do the thing, at least someone is. Lord knows he needs it.]

And you can finish them later. Bull's not going to care if it takes a couple extra days. Neither will anyone else.

[She turns to set the hammer down out of reach before she turns back to him, arms crossed over her chest.]

Tony, I'm worried about you. You look...terrible, like you're going to pass out on me any second. You're working yourself into the ground.

As if she could resist the mill

[unraisehell]

"You know, the Iron Bong did the job perfectly well, at this point, you're just showing off," Wynonna says, exhaling a cloud of smoke as she speaks. It's a mild scolding- more showing her approval of the craftsmanship than actual mockery. It is also making the smoke a lot smoother, making conversation all that much easier.

She's been mostly quiet company, content to self-medicate with him and serve as a completely clueless springboard for ideas. "I think you're on to something with this approach to solving my problem," then she smiles a bit, and adds, "yoga with your friend might be a good way to test it..." she says, giggling shamelessly.

no one can resist the mill

[nonstopnarcissist]

"I like to smoke in style." He shrugs, leaning back against the wall as he takes another drag, filling his lungs. Head tipped up he blows concentric smoke rings, a trick he picked up in MIT and revisited now and then when life got too stressful.

Or.

More so than usual.

"Mm, Gummibear? Sure. Join us for Morning Yoga sometime and I'll duck out to check the forge or something, let the magic happen."

but i feel personally targeted by the mill

[unraisehell]

"Nice to know that I've established the important things here. Shelter, food, drugs, a wingman," Wynonna counts off on her fingers.

"If I didn't have a kid set to inherit the family curse, I might actually be okay with all of this." She takes a long inhale of smoke after that. "Don't let that get around? Frank knows, he's the one who found me when I got here." So someone's at least explained that Alice can't end up here.

"The guy I know from back home, I don't want him knowing she exists. He hurt my sister."

Mill

[3ofswords]

Kira is not, actually, a one-man weed delivery service. He helps Mark grow it, he cuts and dries it, he smokes it--and most people come over to take what they want, when they want it.

The Mill just happens to be on his way out of town. He keeps waiting for the peaches to go off season, and until they do, he's out with a bucket to stock up. It isn't even really about the mash anymore, isn't really about better tasting moonshine. If he can stock up the clinic with the pure shit that runs off the top, why not give it that extra kick?

He should have Sam make a sign for the house, We Have The Shit For What Ails You. Almost feels like home, a little less magic and no spectacle.

Prepared to stop in on the way out or back, depending, the familiar smell applauds his timing. Kira shoves the door open with his back, slipping inside with his supplies for the hike.

"Happy mid-Autumnal holiday," he says, digging in his pockets for the homemade envelope. "Little bird told me you might need a refill."

[nonstopnarcissist]

"You-" Right, he doesn't exactly remember putting out the word but it is both appreciated and deserving of a reward. If he can find the- his hands pat down his pockets before fishing through his zebra print bag (work with what you've got) fishing out a slim box with a single switch on top and a hinged lid. "Are currently my favorite person in the village, thank you. Here."

It's not useful but- sometimes the most amusing shit is pointless. If pressed half of the lid swings up enough for a wooden finger to lift up and uncurl, turning the switch off.

Useless but- funny. To him.

[3ofswords]

Somehow, they're friendly enough that Tony is handing him an improbably useless item from his zebra print murse--they've overcome greater odds than having a series of friends in common. "I take it back," he says, leaving the envelope in Tony's hands and picking up the box to inspect for himself. "You've had entirely too much."

Flick; open; flick; close. It's a silly little thing, and his amusement is more squint than smile. "I can't tell if you were carting this around with me in mind, or if you're just weird hookah Santa."

Watching it a third time, the gears click over. "You know, I might actually have a couple of things I can do with this." If he's quick enough on the draw, it's not a bad way to hide a few smaller items. "I've got a crow that won't quite leave the next. This'll entertain the shit out of him." With Kira, the thought only diverts momentarily. "You doing alright?"

House 34

[notsoangry]

Bruce is a terrible sleeper. He's not much of a tosser and turner, so used to just curling up in a ball and staying out of the way of others. But it takes very little to wake him up. Being in a place without the Hulk doesn't make him less paranoid about being surprised and turning into the big guy. He hasn't changed his habits, or the panicky way he feels if he's startled awake. Sleeping with Tony helps, sometimes. It started with Bruce attempting to sleep in another room, and then waking up afraid Tony was dead after all and gone. So he decided to sleep on the floor next to Tony's bed to make certain he was breathing every few hours. From there it just seemed like the rational thing to do for them to share.

It'd been a long time since he woke up and expected someone else to be there. Sleepy and confused at first, Bruce doesn't go right to panic, because he's well aware that Tony is even worse at sleeping than he is. He wanders through the house he's actually getting used to living in and steps out onto the porch. There he is. Bruce takes a long look at him from the side, perceptive to his very core, and sits down a reasonable amount of distance from him. Not as close almost on top of each other as they usually are. Respectful space.

"I'd say a penny for your thoughts, but your thoughts are more worth a billion, so. A billion for your thoughts?"

[nonstopnarcissist]

It helps them both, sharing a bed. Tucked up close or tangled or even back to back, barely touching- however it is that reminds them they're both here, they're alive, they survived- usually it's enough to help Tony drift off for three or four hours. But all that talk of the symposium getting twisted into wedding bullshit-

Barnes hadn't meant anything, he knows that. Barnes didn't exactly know and sure there'd been a press release, but the man wasn't exactly someone to keep up with celebrity gossip and that's all it was until they set a real date. Or. They'd had a date and it slipped by and this was the second date-

Caterers and flower arrangements and she'd been idly shopping for a gown while Tony tried to keep said shopping on the DL to make her life easier-

A million details he'd tamped down to forget spilling out of their box, leaving a Pott's shaped hole in his chest.

"We hadn't set a date." A beat. "Well we had bit it was a decoy date, the kind of thing you release to the public so they're trying to figure out where you're doing something that's supposed to be intimate and meaningful so they can watch it like it's entertainment."

It's not often he's so overtly bitter about living in the public's eye but- it's a day for that kind of thinking.

[notsoangry]

Bruce waited for Tony to decide what to say, running hands over his short hair that he still wasn't used to. It gave him a little time to wake up too. He had a feeling that the marriage post was going to come up again. He knew it was going to stew in Tony's head, and he felt guilty for taking part in it, even if it was probably the most he'd been able to joke in years. Because it wasn't a joke. Tony was going to marry Pepper, not anyone else; that's how it was always supposed to happen.

Bruce loved Pepper Potts. He'd been startled that Tony was nice to him, and certain at the time only he saw Bruce as someone worth trusting, and then he met her. She didn't have super powers and she had every reason to fear the Hulk, but she seemed to have the same skill of looking into someone's heart and seeing what no one else could. She was unrelentingly kind to him. At first it made him uncomfortable, to have so many positive words aimed at him after a decade of the worst, but he adjusted. The last time he saw her, it was when he had to take Tony out of their happy bubble and into the Thanos one. She'd looked only concerned for him when he did. Not angry, not frustrated, just worried.

So he chose to believe she was alive. Just like he was choosing to believe Betty was alive. People that good didn't deserve to be dust.

"God forbid Pepper and Tony get to have a day for themselves instead of for the rest of the world," he gently chimed in. Hey, he could be bitter enough for the both of them if he needed to be. "What were you thinking for the real thing?" Bruce could imagine them married, but he couldn't really imagine the wedding. Would it be overkill? Or overly pragmatic? Or soft and intimate and sweet? Maybe a mix of all of them, considering the two people involved.

School House

[our_promise]

The school house is terribly exciting for Natalia, who has plenty of experience with book learning but no knowledge of basic crafts or other things commonly ascribed to 'peasants' by those responsible for her education and social appearances. It's hard to choose which book to read first. She goes from shelf to shelf, adding more books to the pile in her arms at every stop. Soap making, weaving, woodworking, hunting, even one book about being a housewife makes the cut.

She drops her books at the first table she comes to without realizing there's already someone here.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you.

[nonstopnarcissist]

This is, if nothing else, the most nostalgic moment he's had in awhile. Buried in textbooks, taking notes, sketching out ideas to fill in the blanks he can't quite recall off the top of his head- refrigeration, combustion, aqueducts, generators. The bare bones basics of his usual fabrication needs all laid out- and some of his notes caught under a stack someone else drops on the table.

Tony jolts, rubbing at his eyes as his attention swings up. "Could be worse, you could've dropped your books on my hand."

Wiggling his fingers he tugs his diagrams free, trying to take up less than all of the table.

Inn

[morphogenia]

Kamala is here making her daily cooking run. Nothing all that unusual for her. She tries to wave at Tony whenever she does see him without ever going out of her way. She loves superheroes, Iron Man is in her top three, but she does have a life here even if stuff is complicated as of late. It just so happens this is one of the times she catches him. She starts to wave before picking up how clearly stiff and tired the guy is. She beelines over with her containers of food to walk him out like the well-meaning teen she is.

"Hey, are you feeling okay?"

[nonstopnarcissist]

"Mm? Sure, I'm fantastic." He paints on an easy smile, fighting back the odd wave of fatigue that's hit him. Maybe he pushed it too far the other day? Or maybe the low ache in his bones isn't imaginary, it's whatever mojo he'd snagged temporarily finally fading. Nah. Can't be that, he still feels- fine.

Mostly. "Just a little too much squinting into the forge. I need to make a welder's hood or something."