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Tabula Rasa [Accompanying Art] by veryvincible
Fandoms: Marvel (Comics), Captain America Corps
27 May 2022
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Summary
[from Sineala's fic:]
Sometimes superheroes save the world. And sometimes they're too late.
Captain America's longtime villain Superia had a plan for revenge. She stopped the Avengers from ever finding Steve in the ice, tore the Avengers apart, and turned the world into her own personal authoritarian dystopia. A team made up of Captains America from across the multiverse came to set things right: they united all the remaining superheroes, took down Superia, and made sure the world would find Steve again.
Tony spent Superia's hellish reign as her prisoner, a suicidally-depressed disembodied brain trapped in a jar for years on end, begging the Avengers to kill him and put him out of his misery. The Captain America Corps instead gives him his freedom, a brand-new body, and even the Avengers -- including his very own Captain America. But Tony's not entirely sure he wants to be here. He's walking wounded, and he thinks some wounds are too deep to heal. He thinks there's no chance the Avengers will ever be what they could have been. He thinks there's no way Steve will ever be the friend and partner he could have been on so many other worlds.
Luckily for Tony, Steve happens to disagree with that.
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He guessed he’d lived.
He guessed Steve had given a fuck.
He guessed he didn’t want to be alone.He was on edge, nervous— whether it was the beginnings of withdrawals setting in (unlikely, he thought, as he was pretty certain the effects of his last little binge hadn’t worn off much at all) or some deep discomfort with Steve himself, he didn’t know. But he didn’t want to be alone, and Steve said he’d missed him, and Tony figured he had to believe the guy. For a night, at least, he had to.
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After endless searching for the man he loves, Sir Anthony Stark finds Steven in the forest, laying silent and sleeping as the result of a magical curse that only true love's kiss can break. ;)
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Steve's been alone in his town for quite some time; his lover disappeared, possibly even left, after he was infected with lycanthropy over a decade ago, and the townspeople hardly want him around. But he's useful to them, at least, and when a string of thefts along the northern building strike fear into the hearts of the townspeople, he takes initiative and investigates.
He's not prepared for what he finds.
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Blinded by envy, Tony Stark's sentient armor goes after the one thing it knows its creator can't live without: Captain America.
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“Seriously, what do you do to me?” Tony leaned against Steve’s side, reaching over his arm to flip to the next page. “You make me skinnier, don’t you?”
“I don’t do anything, Tony, I just draw what I see.”
“With embellishments.”--
Steve lets Tony see his art-- pages upon pages of sketches. Tony almost can't recognize himself.
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Antonius had planned for a clean kill. It was for the sake of Rome. It was— It was to prevent Rome from falling prey to another king, it was for no one and nothing else.
It was for no one and nothing else.
Antonius twisted the blade, and he reveled in the choked “ah,” that fell from Tiberius’ lips.
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“You know, I always thought Tony Stark would be the one to master time travel. When I first got here, I half thought he must have a time machine laying around somewhere.”
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“Okay, you’re not actually mad about me making fun of Love Actually, are you?” Tony asked, sitting back.
Steve huffed again.
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He didn’t want Tony’s first impression of him to be so— so wrapped up in his veins, so close to his heart. He didn’t want Tony to see everything he was without knowing what they’d been through.
Or, well.
He did.
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Original song #2 for the SteveTony Games, from the POV of Steve Rogers mid-Civil War.
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“I can do it,” Steve said, suddenly. “If it’s the easiest way to go about this, I can do it.”
Carol gave him a look that he could only describe as pitying, though it very well could have been projection. This wasn’t his strong suit; he wasn’t incapable of being stealthy, nor was working undercover terribly new to him, but it wasn’t his preferred method and everyone knew it. He wasn’t as easy to conceal as Nat, not as tech-savvy as Tony with all his stealth-oriented machinations. He couldn’t shrink himself down nor make himself look like any average guy in a room.
But how hard could it be, really?
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The Avengers find the schematics of a deadly weapon in the hands of an up-and-coming villain. To safely retrieve the data that led to its creation and keep the city safe in the process, they have to take a very subtle approach. The man-- Jack Marshall-- has an eye for hunks and a tendency to get vulnerable with them. The team could use this to their advantage, if they have the right assets.
Enter Steve.
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An original song with Extremis-y undertones and pining themes from a Tony Stark POV. :)
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“I’ve got a hotel room,” Tony said.
“And if we’re seen?”
Tony’s response came quick, too confident. He’d given the same spiel many times before. “Oh, you know. Good friends. Had a bit to drink. Maybe we’re French— you know how it is. Besides, we’ve been here for how long, now? If anyone was going to notice you, you’d think they’d have done it by now.”
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Tony's intelligence, his drive, his up-played hubris couldn't pull him back from it, then. His brain had been set alight with wonder and awe at the thought of Steve, the reality of the electric blue sparks that seemed to buzz off him in droves.
A little drabble for 616 day. -
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Tony thinks this might be his last day alive.
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Mind the tags, please. This is laden with suicidal ideation.
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His hands— cold, clammy, lightly trembling— reached for the glass of water on his nightstand. His grip was tight; he knew he would drop it if given the chance.
It was lukewarm against his lips, and wholly unsatisfying. His forearms shook slightly with the tension, the tremors in his hands causing a noticeable shift in the water. It had a syrup-y quality to it as it dipped back and forth in its glass, almost, though he hadn’t noticed the difference in texture as he drank. The longer he stared, the lower the viscosity, as if it noticed him perceiving it and willfully moved with less ease.
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His gaze lands on something creeping out from the almost-shadows. There’s one tendril pressed into the wall like a brand, only slightly darker than everything else. Then another tendril. It’s not until they’re parallel to the symbol itself that Tony recognizes the icon before him.
Something shifts in his chest. His eyes widen a smidge, and though he feels his hands shaking, he looks down to find the suit gauntlets situated perfectly still at his sides.
Tony hears crinkling behind him— the crinkling of a paper bag, presumably brown, and presumably housing two sesame seed bagels. He pauses to look back, and there stands Steve.
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Tony's trapped in his own personal hell.
Steve's not coming to save him.-
Art with some accompanying text. :)
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Tony smelled… off. Wrong. He smelled strange in a way that would justify the cold, Steve thought. There was a metallic layer to blood that Steve was used to smelling, and in Tony, that was distinctly not present.
So, Steve concluded, Tony must have had an iron deficiency. Something to that effect, at least. He became faint without warning, he was chilly as the dead, and he was as pale as any man Steve had ever seen.
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Tony Stark is a vampire. It's common knowledge, at this point.
Somehow, Steve isn't aware of that little fact.