#industiral music | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ofstarsandfireflies · 3 years

Text

Okay, I’ve finished crying.

This movie was one I didn’t want to do.

I kept moving it further and further down the list until I thought about changing it and removing it completely.

As the month started to come to a close, I made a decision.

I would watch it and I would cry and I would write an au about it just to prove to myself that I could.

Thank you for joining me for these movie nights, and the last one I’ll be doing. They might come back in some shape or form, we’ll see.

I’ll see you guys tomorrow for the return of Music Month!

Enjoy!

💛❤️💙

They’d just moved in together.

Just started their life together.

They were both at the peak of their careers when it had happened.

And Stephen hadn’t realised what had happened until he was looking down at his own body and Tony covered in his blood as he yelled for help, yelled at Stephen to stay with him.

The days leading up to his death replayed again and again in his mind as he tried to figure out what had gone wrong, who he had pissed off to have this be the outcome of his life.

But he couldn’t think of anything.

He’d gone to Tony’s workshop where he’d been working on his new invention, which Stephen had ended up ruining.

Tony hadn’t minded at all, showing him how to fix it, which turned into Stephen becoming increasingly distracting, both of them leaving the missile in favour of clearing the workbench as fast as possible.

Then they’d talked about marriage, which became an argument because apparently Stephen didn’t say “I love you” whenever Tony did and now it was too late to say it at all.

As the days progressed, he went to his funeral, staying by Tony’s side throughout it all.

He stayed with him the days after as well, watching Tony try to pick his life back up, try to focus on work, all of which had come to a screeching halt.

He was Tony Stark.

He could fix anything.

Except himself it would seem.

Friends and co workers came to keep him company, which was a nice thought but Tony didn’t want to engage in conversation or anything of the like.

He’d often stare at a space Stephen would usually occupy, and when he was alone he’d start talking as if Stephen were still there.

It just felt like he hadn’t left.

People thought he was having trouble letting go or quite possibly losing his mind, but Tony didn’t care.

It was only when Obidiah Stane came over that really got any reaction out of Tony at all.

He was trying to get Tony to come back to work because he’d been working on the Jericho and once it was done they could have a presentation of its power in Afghanistan.

But Tony didn’t want to work, and he wasn’t at all concerned about some presentation.

He had even been thinking of canceling it after talking to Stephen about it, who hadn’t been in favour of Tony going over there.

But Obidiah was insisting Tony still go.

He was even insisting Tony give him Stark Industires so he could run the company in his stead while Tony took this time to grieve.

Stephen could yell at him all he wanted, he’d never be heard by anyone else but Tony’s cat, who hissed at him and took off.

It was only when Obidiah had convinced Tony to take a walk with him for some fresh air that Stephen realised he’d try to get him to rethink his decision.

But when he tried to follow them, when he’d gained the courage to try walking through the shut door, it opened.

And he came face to face with someone familiar, and someone he’d thought he’d never see again .

His murderer.

But worse than that, this man was a complete stranger.

He wasn’t anyone Stephen had ever seen before.

He wasn’t a patient or a family member of a patient, and he most certainly wasn’t associated with Tony either.

So just who the hell was he?

And what was he doing in their home?

Stephen followed him around, failing to stop him from snooping around the belongings Tony had half heartedly been packing away in boxes.

He followed him upstairs where the man continued his search for whatever it was he was after.

And that was when Stephen heard the door open.

Tony was back.

He had to do something.

He wasn’t going to let Tony share his fate.

The murderer hid as Tony climbed the stairs and readied himself for a shower, Stephen begging with unheard words for the man to spare Tony, to just take what he’d come for and leave.

But when the man began to inch closer to the room Tony was getting undressed in, Stephen spied the scrawny feline sitting on its tower, glaring at him as it paid no mind to the stranger or their ill intentions that could very well leave it masterless.

Waiting for the man to move a little closer, Stephen shouted at the cat, making it yowl loudly and take off, scaring his killer and alerting Tony.

His presence now known, the intruder descended the stairs as quick as he could and exited the apartment, unaware of Stephen following his every move.

He followed him on subway trains and down less crowded streets until the man went into an apartment under the name Raza and pulled out his phone, having decided it was safe enough now to start texting someone.

And it was this person, whoever was on the other side of these text messages, who had ordered Stephen to be killed.

And were after something from Tony.

He had to warn him.

But how?

Aside from scaring their cat twice, he couldn’t poltergeist objects like he’d seen in the movies.

If he could do that somehow, he could protect Tony far more easily.

But when Stephen exited the apartment building and looked around, he spied an old haunted house looking building advertising that a medium resided there and could speak to the dead for a fee.

If this person spoke the truth, if they could truly hear him, then he could get their help in communicating with Tony.

But the woman who he met was far from anything he expected.

Because aside from the bright yellow robes, which were just overkill, she was in fact the real deal.

Not only could she hear his voice when no one else could, she could exit her own body and move objects while Stephen would just pass through them.

She could help him and she could help Tony and he wasn’t going to let her back out when she was his only chance, no matter how many times she told him no.

She didn’t get involved in things like this, she didn’t give ghost 101 lessons and she sure as hell didn’t want to start now.

So Stephen instead tried to get her to give a message to Tony, just one phone call, and after failing to get Tony to believe her as he hung up on her, she found herself at the nice apartment block where he was still living.

Speaking to him proved a little difficult, and shouting intimate things only Stephen and Tony should know wasn’t really her cup of tea but she did it anyway at Stephen’s insistence.

And that got his attention.

He listened to what she had to say, wanting to believe and also trying very hard to be skeptical.

Tony wasn’t one to believe in ghosts. If he could see it and touch it, then it was real, anything else like aliens and other worldly creatures or magic simply didn’t exist to him.

Yet, here was this woman, in a full blown argument with herself, telling him about the holiday he and Stephen had taken, about how the shirt Tony was wearing was a gift from Stephen two Christmases ago, about where they’d picked out the couch she was sitting on.

Things she couldn’t possibly know unless...

No.

No, it couldn’t be real.

Stephen was dead and this woman was probably after his money when she’d seen the Stark name in the papers.

But as he tried to make her leave, she told him Stephen said he loved him.

And Tony knew she was lying now.

That was the one thing Stephen never said.

And then, of all the words she could have said next, the one she chose made him stop and reconsider everything.

Ditto.

Ditto had been what Stephen had always said to him when Tony told him he loved him.

it had been their word.

And Tony sat back down to listen to what this strange woman had to say to him.

She told him about Raza and where he lived, how he had been the one to murder Stephen and how he’d been here and had been after something.

But none of them knew what it could be.

Stephen had assumed it was something which had belonged to him, but he didn’t own anything that was worth his life.

But if it was something of Tony’s then why was he the one who was killed? It just didn’t make any sense.

With his message delivered, Stephen watched as the woman he’d been relying on almost trip over in her rush on her way out.

So, he had little else to do but watch over Tony as he thought about her words and warnings, trying to figure out the best cause of action to take.

Obidiah came back that night to keep Tony company, listening as an unbelieving skeptic while Tony told him about everything this woman had said, and saying how he was going to confront this Raza at his address, making Stephen try and fail to stop him.

Deciding to put Tony’s mind at ease, Obi told him to get some rest while he checked it out.

Both Tony and Stephen agreed with this, but when Stephen followed him there, he heard everything.

He heard how Obidiah knew Raza, how he had been the one to ask Raza to kill Stephen because he was interfering with the presentation in Afghanistan and how they couldn’t go ahead with taking Tony hostage just yet.

How Obidiah couldn’t get his hands on Stark Industries and it’s stocks until Tony was out of the way.

And how Raza had screwed up getting the plans for the Jericho Tony had taken home with him.

And Stephen couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

This man had been like a father to Tony.

To him even!

Hitting Obidiah did nothing, as it always did, and in his dismay he turned to that old building for help once again.

He needed to warn Tony, and he needed to become stronger to do so and only she could help.

Of course she didn’t want to, and he couldn’t blame her for not wanting to get involved, but when she heard that the people who had killed Stephen were after her now, she had no choice.

Learning to push objects around didn’t take him long to figure out, which was a stroke of luck as no sooner had Stephen worked out the trick to it there was a knock at the door.

It was Raza, who was no match for Stephen’s ghost tricking as he threw items at him, shoved him out the door and into passers by, into walls amd windows, using his anger at what this man had taken from him to drive him screaming for help down the road where he ran into the path of an oncoming vechile.

Raza looked down at his body, then up at Stephen, horrified recognition dawning on his face at what had happened to him, when blood curdling groans and screams pulled themselves into black shadowy manifestations, seizing Raza and hauling him down where they all vanished from sight.

A fate for a murderer; one Stephen swore he would make Obidiah go through as well.

Things weren’t looking good for old Obi.

His accomplice was dead, Tony was still refusing to go through with the presentation or give him the plans for the missile so his company could start mass producing them.

Everything was falling apart.

And Stephen loved to watch every moment of it.

He taunted him when he was alone, drove him to the brink of insanity by letting him know he was still here and would make him pay for what he’d done and was planning to do.

He’d make sure Stane never got what he wanted.

He’d make sure he’d never hurt Tony.

But the more he pushed, the more Stane saw only one way out.

If Stephen was still truly here, he’d do anything to protect Tony, and if he didn’t do what he wanted, Tony would pay the price.

Once he had the deed to Stark Industries, he’d leave Tony alone, but Stephen would need to persuade Tony to sign it over to him and it needed to be done by tonight.

Stephen would do no such thing. Instead, he found himself seeking help once again from the only person who could.

And this time she agreed without having to be persuaded like before.

She didn’t even wait for Tony to open the door, allowing herself in immediately and telling him how Obidiah was involved and what he was after.

Tony was not going to allow his company to fall into the hands of the murderer who had taken Stephen from him and called Rhodey in for his assistance with removing Obidiah from his life.

It was as they were waiting, Stephen sitting beside Tony and trying to hold his hand and wishing he could feel it in his own one last time, that his new friend tells him about possession.

By using her body, he can feel Tony again.

So when Stephen opens his eyes and sees Tony looking at him, he can’t help but pull him close, finally feeling his body solid against his chest after so long, hands entwined.

And all Tony can feel is Stephen, like he never left.

It’s the banging on the door that ruins their moment and throws Stephen out of the body he’d been possessing.

He’s weak, struggling to get back to his feet as the only two people he cares about make their way out onto the fire escape, unable to prevent Obidiah from pursuing them.

By the time Stephen’s strength returns to him, Rhodey bursts in, calling out to Tony and climbing out onto the fire escape as well.

But it’s Stephen who gets to them first, shoving at Obidiah as he makes a grab for Tony.

Their fight doesn’t last long when Stane pulls out his gun and aims at Tony, the shot ringing out.

And Stephen watches as the man who had done this to him falls forward, Rhodey behind him with his gun drawn.

As Rhodey steps over Stane to check on Tony, Stephen watches as his ghost rises from his corpse, somewhat disoriented.

And even more so when he sees Stephen standing before him.

He doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening.

But Stephen understands.

Especially when the same creatures living in the shadows he’d seen take away the spirit of Raza swarm over Obidiah, dragging him away with them into the nothingness.

With Tony safe, with Obidiah dead and with his vengeance satiated, Stephen looked toward the light he had previously turned his back to.

And found himself torn the same way he had been the first time.

He could walk into it and be at peace, but he’d have to leave Tony behind.

Turning from it once more to gaze at Tony one last time, he finds Tony’s eyes holding his own, wide and tearful as they stared at the man who had died in his arms barely a week ago.

Not only could Tony see him, but he could also hear him, and Stephen knew he’d gotten his second chance to say the one thing Tony had never heard him say.

Three words were all he left Tony with, three words spoken for the first time before he faded forever.

And Tony held onto them.

Quotes -

“Are you worried about the promotion?”

“No, not really.”

“Then what? Moving in together?”

“No. I don’t know. It’s a lot of things. I just don’t want the bubble to burst. It seems like uh...whenever anything good in my life happens, I’m just afraid I’m going to lose it.”

“I love you. I really love you.”

“Ditto.”

Tony being there for Stephen.

“Sam’s dead. Okay? He’s dead.”

“Tell her I love her.”

“He says he loves you.”

“Sam would never say that.”

“Ditto. Tell her ditto!”

“What the hell is ditto?”

Tony being convinced Stephen is still with him.

“Some woman knows all about you. Everything. Where’s she getting it from huh?”

“I haven’t said a word to anybody.”

“She knows your name and she knows where you live.”

“How do women know where I live?”

“This is not a joke! She knows about the murder! Now, I want you to find this bitch, whoever she is, and I want you to...just get rid of her ok!”

Obidiah yelling at Raza while Stephen listens.

“I love you, Molly. I’ve always loved you.”

“Ditto.”

A final conversation.

Stay with me

Stephen’s death derails this timeline, causing Tony to never become Iron Man.

January, February

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14 Day 15

Day 16 Day 17 Day 18 Day 19 Day 20

Day 21 Day 22 Day 23 Day 24 Day 25

Day 26 Day 27 Day 28 Day 29 Day 30

#ironstrange #strangeiron #osaf’s movie night

16 notes · View notes

volantium · 4 years

Text

count the windows to your fire escape (aka 1k of soft domestic fluff, also on ao3)

Harley wakes slowly.

The sunlight filters in between the blinds, leaving streaks of gold across the hardwood floor of their apartment. Dust floats in the air like shining pinpricks of bright, sparkling stars in what Harley’s starting to realise is the midday sun.

Flings out an arm across the other side of the bed in his sleep-fogged haze, and it’s when he doesn’t accidentally-on-purpose hit the other body that’s usually beside him that he wakes up proper. He blinks his eyes open, slate grey-blue with the unique exhaustion that comes with being a mechanical engineering working for Stark Industires. Twists around to pick up his work phone on the bedside table. Takes a brief look at the myriad notifications underneath the damning 13:03 and promptly flings it down the bed. He can already feel it vibrating with another message between the covers.

It’s his day off. Fuck the phone.

Their day off, and Peter’s nowhere to be found.

If Harley was any less of a morning person than he already isn’t, early afternoon as it is, he would’ve noticed by now the faint sound of music playing throughout the apartment. Hozier drifting softly from the where the record player sits in their hallway by the kitchen back to the bedroom.

It takes him another fifteen minutes to roll out of bed. Runs a hand through his hair in order to bring it under some semblance of control, despite it being a futile effort. Shrugs a t-shirt on that from the sandalwood smell of it is actually Peter’s. Trails a hand along the wall as he pads down the hallway, eyes skimming over the plethora of family photos they’ve gathered over the years. Harley’s favourite—by far—is the one of he, Morgan, and Peter, crowded together in the frame as if the confines of the photographs were too small to contain them. Harley has one arm looped around Peter’s waist, the other in the process of fist bumping Morgan, dressed to the nines for her university graduation, the bachelors degree held aloft in Peter’s hand like the holy grail. The thing that gets him about it is the look on Peter’s face. Looking at the two of them like they hung all the stars in the sky and—Harley’s gotten used to it, sure, they’ve been together for years—but it never fails to make him short of breath, the sheer amount of love shining in those honey-caramel eyes.

There’s another one, from a lifetime ago, of him and Abby and their mom, that sits in pride of place at his desk in the office, right beside the picture of his and Peter’s own graduation, three years ago.

Harley stops in the hallway, just before the threshold of the kitchen. Peter is facing away from him, standing at the counter messing with what’d be an overkill of scrambled eggs and bacon if he wasn’t Spider-Man. Take a moment just to watch before making his way over.

“What’re you doin’ in my kitchen, darlin?” He says, winding his arms around Peter’s stomach, dropping his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Last time I checked,” Peter replies, and it’s the way he unhesitant leans back into Harley’s chest that get’s Harley, every time. “Both of our names were on the lease.”

Harley laughs in the curve of Peter’s neck. “Last time I checked, we both agreed you and your non-existent cooking skills weren’t allowed in here.”

Peter doesn’t reply straight away, and in Harley’s sleep-hazed brain it takes a while for it to click, how unusual that is for him not to quip back right away. By the time it finally does he’s all but dozing hooked over Peter’s shoulder, swaying the both of them gently to the sound of Hozier’s Irish croon of ‘cause my baby’s sweet as can be, she gives me toothaches just from kissin’ me.

“Peter?” He murmurs, lifting his head. “You alright in there?”

It takes a second, but then Peter’s blinking back at him with a small smile spreading across his face, like an early morning sunrise, soft and surprising in it’s beauty.

“Yeah, baby,” he says, twisting his head to brush a kiss across Harley’s cheekbone. “Never better.”

Harley hums, a nonsensical sound to encourage Peter to explain. Peter turns his focus back to the frying pan. Poke’s uselessly at the mass of eggs with the bright pink spatula MJ had gotten them as a house-warming gift for reasons that Harley still isn’t sure of.

Harley plucks the spatula out of Peter’s hand. “How did you manage to burn these already?”

“I just really love you, you know?”

“I love you, too,” Harley replies automatically, setting the spatula on the bench. “That was random.”

“Not really.”

“A little bit, darlin’.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Peter agrees, twisting around and twining his arms around Harley’s neck. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“No,” Harley says, eyes flickering over the soft and content look on Peter’s face. “I suppose not.”

“It’s just—”

Peter cuts himself off, but Harley knows. Harley knows. Because it’s the same thing he’s thinking about. They fit like a puzzle piece. Have ever since Tony introduced them and decided that the world could handle the unique chaos the two of them had the potential to cause. Harley doesn’t believe in soulmates but Christ, if he did—he’d be Peter’s and Peter would be his. The world doesn’t deserve Peter Parker and that’s the truth. But Harley will be forever grateful for him, the fact that they met on a Tuesday afternoon, the fact that even now, years and years later on yet another fateful Tuesday, he’s bursting at the seams with it, this all-encompassing, hard-to-put-into-words love they have for another.

“I know,” he says, instead, hand running up Peter arms to cup his jaw.

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harley dips his head to press a kiss to the corner of Peter’s mouth, easy as anything. “I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.”

It comes out a soft, tender admission, mumbled against Peter’s lips. The agreeing hum from the back of Peter’s throat switches into a drawn-out moan halfway through when Harley catches his teeth on Peter’s bottom lip. It goes like that for a while, making out against the kitchen counter like when they were teenagers, trading lazy kisses in the early afternoon sun as the eggs get overcooked beside them.

Harley drifts back to reality with Peter’s hands tangled in his hair and the smell of burnt bacon in his nose.

“Love me enough even though I burn everything I touch?” Peter grins cheekily up at him.

“And then some, darlin’,” Harley replies. “C’mon, I’ll makes us a late breakfast.”

“Coffee?”

Harley leaves one last, lingering kiss on Peter’s lips. “You’re the best.”

And as Peter moves away to make then coffee, and Harley takes over the sad excuse of scrambled eggs on the stovetop, he thinks, yeah, this, always.

#parkner #parley #harley keener #peter parker #i do hate how italics never copy over on this fucking website #p: parkner #u: mcu #drabble #f: fire escape verse

61 notes · View notes