Independent Phil Coulson
role play.

(RP Blog, Post Avengers. Any ship, fandom and OC welcome)

I am 100% Hate Anon free.

The library contains comic panels, and comics scanned in entirety, currently focused on late 1970s/early 1980s Invincible Iron Man.

OOC: More replies after I sleep. I cannot brain right now.

Housekeeeeeeping hurry uuuuuup I’m so tired x.x

tags → #OOC 

OOC: Life moves pretty fast...

So, this memory just popped into my head. Set the way back machine to my early teens, and I'm watching Ferris Beuller's Day Off with my mom.
Mom: you know that'd never work on me right.
Mom: Because I'd come in to check your forehead if you're sick.
Me: Oh gee mom
Me: Just let me fire up the professional grade synthesizer I don't own to skip class a day.
Me: oh wait, I have braces. I skip class with an excuse what, monthly?
Mom: Oh, well, you have a point.


Surprised by the sudden offer, Sterling decided to take the handle. no use hesitating or refusing. 

"Haven’t shot a gun since the New York base fell." He said quietly. It had been a rough day. First time Sterling had ever shot someone and knew for a fact that he had killed someone. People he knew. People he cared about before their true alliances were revealed. "But I’ve shot before. I probably don’t have the best aim."

Phil laughed softly. “Sterling, what Fury did to me fucked up my physical memory. I’m having to relearn all the motions of shooting a gun. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been packing an icer so often, actually. I’ve been spending a lot of time on the range because I’m having to grind those motions back into my bones, right down to clearing a mag.”

He wove at the targets. “So go right ahead. I promise not to judge you. Guess we both need some practice.”

tags → #agentsterling 

Just Some Good Ol’Fashion Head Busting || GovtHookerCoulson (Closed)


She’s never going to be used to taking point in Phil’s company, frankly in every way now he outranks her and has most of the time given her orders. Calling the shots was not something she was used to, but she could do it. She just really wasn’t sure how fond she was of doing it.

They’re on ground level, above them was a series of levels and lights that every so many steps cut through the shadows and the darkness. It was all so very cliché and unsurprising, but what else was new? She kept away from those lights, those spots on the floor and moved deeper into the building. There had to be something else, not above, but perhaps below.

“I think this is a front. A façade.” She commented in a controlled tone as her eyes looked down. “There’s got to be some sort of entrance below.” She began to look, taking one side of the area and letting Phil have the other.  

"Looks pretty legit." Phil admitted. He’d gone so far as to look at the stock in this place and it all seems fairly reasonable. Gourmet rice of all goddamn things, it all smells fantastic even through the cloth bags and there’s order papers on various stacks of boxes. "Not that I’m doubting your intel."

Then she says they might be in a level below and Phil pauses, eyes half closing as he reviews his mental map of subway tunnels. “One second.” He paced to the far end of the side of the building he takes. It’s too risky just to listen for his footsteps sounding hollow because if he can hear his steps so could someone else.

In the end it’s not even hidden, he finds a large hatch in the floor that’s been cleared around it and there’s a desk next to it. He got a penlight out of his pocket and flashed it toward Natasha to get her attention before starting to investigate the desk.

Who the fuck do you think you are? I don't need no goddamn help. (oh young Clint)



"I don’t know, that could be argued." Phil stepped over the prone form of the man he’d just clotheslined, walking up to Clint at an amble. "And I am a man doing my job."

Clint shouldn’t have been surprised when Phil turned around to face him, yet he still started a little.  The older’s stance is relaxed but the archer can’t help but be on edge, shoulders tense and arms free at his sides.  Clint shrugged a shoulder, blue-green eyes skittering away from Phil’s as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Guess ‘m still just confused ‘s all," the younger admitted.  And feeling more then a little intimidated by the man in front of him.  Everyone in the business knew who Kingfisher was.  He was a shark and Clint was a very small fish.  

"I suppose that’s understandable. Your last twelve hours have been a somewhat severe change in trajectory." Phil tipped his head just slightly, watching Clint. It doesn’t surprise him that Clint’s on edge and clearly ready for whatever happens including a fight.

"Don’t worry too much. We look after our people, even our contractors. You’ll do great."

"When is the last time you slept?"



”’s been a while.” Phil admitted after a long beat. “I don’t sleep much. I never feel safe enough to.”

Clint smirked from the door frame he’d been leaning against, arms folded across his chest, and crossed the length of the room to where Phil was sitting behind his desk.

"No one’s gonna touch you so long as I’m around," the younger said placing a hand on the back of the laptop and closing it slowly.  "Get some sleep Boss." 

"Guess I should." Even the suggestion of sleep makes him realize how heavy he is with exhaustion and how badly his eyes itch, and how cloudy his thoughts have gotten.

He stood with a little effort, putting a hand on the desk to steady himself. “Thanks, Clint.”

The young man who was wandering the Hydra base they'd stormed had been brought back for questioning. He sat in a chair, arms folded over his chest. He radiated hostility and suspicion, sharp blue eyes wary. "I'll tell you who I am as soon as you tell me who /you/ are." he snarled. He obviously wasn't happy about being in his present circumstances.



Phil maintained his poker face with effort, but god damn he’s not expecting how much that hurts. That’s almost like being stabbed again, the cold strike of pain in his chest.

"I’m your dad." He watched Decker’s face.

Usually something like this came with strings attached to them. Something had to be given up or taken from him but so far, this man who claimed to be his father hadn’t asked him for a single thing.

It made him nervous. He didn’t know the game here. At the labs, he knew the score, knew what to expect. This was an entirely new situation so he was going to have to take some risks. Reaching out, he took the jacket cautiously, in case it was some kind of a test. Once he had it close, he pulled it on and zipped it up all the way.

Decker’s clear confusion and trepidation is actually heartbreaking and Phil’s brows draw together in a worried crease, watching him work through the apparently complex puzzle of a jacket being proffered.

"You seemed cold." He said after a beat. "Once we’re on the carrier I’ll get you some basic BDUs that’ll actually fit, okay?"

tags → #vintagedeck 

New York, New York (@govthookercoulson)


Isiah just fell over, dissolving into helpless snickers. “T-The cow, has touched me, on Tuesday,” He wheezes, howling at the pout on Lazarus’ face. “I did say that all I knew was nonsense,” He huffs, throwing a packet of salt at Isiah.

"How’s that different from any other day?" Isiah snorted, smirking at the scowl Laz sent his way.

"To be fair everyone can gesture random shit and speak nonsense in ASL."  Phil pointed out.

"Yeah, like that asshole in Africa." Clint snorted.

"Oh come on you were laughing so hard I thought I was going to have to get you an oxygen mask."

tags → #lazarusholmes 

OOC: So my shift lead calls me Rainbow Sprite.

 No, not

This instead:

No, I don’t know why.