Too old for your fandom purity bullshit. I am not responsible for the content YOU CHOOSE to consume on the internet. Learn to block and blacklist what you don't want to see.
Kind of loving the idea of Stephen showing up to Stark Tower and all but demanding to be a consultant because he got wind that they might be branching out into medical equipment and the good doctor has very strong thoughts and suggestions. Pepper is baffled but Tony is like “oh, this man gets it!”
“And you have an interview in an hour,” Pepper said, as she finished detailing his own schedule to him.
Tony had been only partially listening, deep in some research, but that was enough to catch his attention. He looked at her. “I thought we were done with press interviews,” he said. “There’s no reason for that.”
“Not a press interview,” Pepper corrected. “A job interview. Well, of a sorts, a potential consultant.”
Tony stared at her for a long moment. “I don’t do job interviews,” he said, entirely baffled. “We have an entire department that deals with hires.”
Pepper pursed her lips. “Yes, well, this particular person, a Doctor Stephen Strange, was rather insistent during his conversation with the hiring committee and it got pushed up the chain to me. I told him we weren’t hiring, but he was frustratingly certain that he could be a critical hire for the new medical division. I decided to send him to JARVIS. I assumed JARVIS could talk him in circles until the man gave up. But JARVIS actually ended up setting up an interview.”
What? “JARVIS?” he asked. “There a reason for that?”
“After extensive conversation with Doctor Strange,” JARVIS started. “I came to the conclusion that he would be an excellent consulting partner for the new medical division. Unfortunately, his vision somewhat exceeded the hiring manager’s. I thought it best to bridge the gap. I assure you, sir, that you will not regret it.”
JARVIS was normally a pretty good judge of that. “All right,” he said. “Put me together a synopsis of whatever ‘vision’ he convinced you on.” He wrinkled his nose. “I hope you know what you’re talking about. I hate interviewing people.”
Pepper looked mildly amused at that. “Your version of the hiring process isn’t what I’d call the most sensible,” she said. “While I’m glad I got the job, I’m still not sure that threatening to pepper spray Happy was the qualifying feature that you thought it was.”
Tony grinned at the memory. “It turned out great, don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Pepper just shook her head, smile still amused. “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”
“That’ll be all, Miss Potts.”
Pepper made her way out and Tony pulled up the file JARVIS had already started putting together. By the second concept Tony found himself straightening, by the fourth he had JARVIS start making notes for him, by the sixth Tony was pretty sure he absolutely could not hire this man, because Tony was pretty sure he wanted to marry him, instead, by number eight he was regretting the fact that most people would not react well to a marriage proposal from a stranger and Doctor Stephen Strange was quite likely one of them.
“JARVIS,” Tony said when he finished. “Write up a contract and let me know when Doctor Strange arrives for the interview.”
“He’s already here,” JARVIS said. “He arrived thirty minutes early and has been waiting.
Doctor Strange was either incredibly punctual or just as eager about these ideas as Tony was.
Tony double-checked that he looked presentable enough to hire someone before heading to where Doctor Strange was waiting. He strode in, gaze immediately landing on a tall man standing by the window, dressed impeccably, and just as attractive in person as his mind had been on paper. “You’re hired,” Tony said, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Now, do you want to talk about your consulting fee or do you want to talk medical tech.”
Doctor Strange turned away from the window to look at him and damn it, did the man also have to have the most piercingly gorgeous eyes Tony had ever seen? Tony’d already hired him! Tony wasn’t allowed to date him after that! “The consulting fee can wait,” Doctor Strange answered. “I’d like to get started.”
“A man after my own heart,” Tony said, meaning it a little too much. “Let’s talk.”
Your Toxic! Ex! Tony called you at 3am and made you drive all the way to Stark Tower
TW: | P IN V | Tony being an asshole |
A/N: @starfishstark had such a valid question regarding this and here's my highly detailed answer:
Word count: 1.3K
By the time your car pulls into the private garage, the adrenaline has started to fade, replaced by a bitter wave of reality. You walk out of the elevator and into the lab, the cold air hitting your bare ankles under your sweatpants. You look like a mess, but the moment you step inside, Tony is already watching you. He’s leaning against a table, a glass of scotch in one hand, looking entirely too put-together for someone who claimed to be having a crisis.
"Look who made it," he says, his eyes traveling down your casual clothes with a look that makes your skin hot.
"Where's the tech, Tony?" you demand, crossing your arms. "You said you needed help. I thought something was wrong."
He sets his glass down, walking toward you with that effortless, arrogant stride. "Something was wrong. The lab was empty. You weren't in my bed. Highly problematic."
"You're an asshole," you snap, stepping back, but he closes the distance anyway. He catches your waist, his fingers digging into your hip through the fabric of your pants, pulling you flush against him.
"I am," he murmurs against your jaw, his breath smelling faintly of liquor and mint. "But you're here. You always come back."
He kisses you then—rough, possessive, and entirely unapologetic. It’s the same toxic cycle you swear you're going to break every single week, but as his hands move under your shirt and he lifts you onto the nearest glass desk, scattering tablets and tools to the floor, you realize you've already lost the argument.
“I definitely’d rather see you on my workbench than my bed,” Tony murmurs, his kisses tracing a burning line down your neck. His hands are already playing with the elastic band of your sweats, tugging impatiently. “Up, up. These are in my way.”
You hate that you obediently lift your hips, doing exactly what he says without a second thought.
The most insufferably smug smile appears on his face the second he realizes you aren't wearing any panties. You roll your eyes, trying to hide how fast your heart is beating. You’ve always hated sleeping with underwear, and the bastard knew that when he called you.
“Look at that. You’re so ready for me,” he says, his voice dropping an octave as his hands wander up your thighs, effortlessly finding the heat between them. His fingers press right against your aching clit, and it’s embarrassingly obvious just how badly you want him.
You gasp, your fingers instantly digging into the fabric of his dark shirt to keep your balance on the edge of the desk. You want to bite back, to say something to ruin that confident look on his face, but he knows exactly how to touch you to keep you quiet.
"Shut up, Tony," you breathe out, but it comes out entirely too breathless to be intimidating.
"Make me," he whispers, leaning in to catch your bottom lip between his teeth. He applies just enough pressure with his thumb, a slow, agonizingly perfect stroke that makes your toes curl. He’s completely sober now, entirely focused on the reaction he’s pulling out of you. He loves the control, loves knowing that no matter how much you fight him outside of this room, in here, he owns your body’s responses.
He slides two fingers inside you, testing how slick you are, and you let out a low moan that echoes in the quiet, high-tech lab.
"See? This is what I was thinking about at three in the morning," Tony murmurs against your skin, his pace quickening just enough to drive you crazy. He looks up, his dark eyes heavy and dark with satisfaction as he watches your expression undo itself. "Tell me who you drove all the way here for."
“You,” you breathe out, followed by a wrecked moan as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot he knows so damn well.
“Exactly. Only me,” he says. You didn’t even notice when he unbuckled his pants, but suddenly the hot tip of his dick is resting right against your slick entrance. “You want me, sweetheart?” he asks teasingly, slowly smearing your wetness all over yourself, mocking you with the proximity.
“Please, Tony,” is all you say, completely defeated by the ache.
He lets out a low, mocking laugh. “I didn’t even have to tell you to beg. That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, and slowly pushes all the way into you.
The sudden fullness makes your eyes roll back, your hands tightly gripping his shoulders as he stretches you out. He doesn't move right away; he just stays buried deep inside you, letting you take all of him while he watches the praise work its way through your system. He loves how easily that title—his good girl—makes you fall apart, even when you both know you shouldn't be here.
"Look at you," Tony whispers, his voice thick and rough as he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. "Fitting me perfectly. Like you never left."
Before you can even process the sting of his words, he pulls back and drives back in, setting a hard, demanding pace. The metal edge of the workbench digs into your back, but you barely feel it over the overwhelming sensation of him filling you up over and over. Every thrust is heavy, possessive, and deliberately designed to remind you of exactly what you’ve been missing.
You throw your head back, a loud, uninhibited moan leaving your lips as he hits that same perfect spot with every single stroke. Tony leans over you, his hands pinning your wrists to the cold glass of the desk, locking you in place so you have no choice but to take everything he's giving you.
"Tony—" you gasp out, the friction building so fast it's making your head spin.
"I've got you," he growls, his own composure finally cracking as he feels how tight you're clamping down around him. He releases your wrists, his arms wrapping under your thighs to pull you even closer, driving into you with a desperate, toxic urgency until you both completely lose control.
The sounds of skin slapping against skin, the wet friction of your juices, and the ragged, desperate breaths from the both of you are the only things echoing through the silent lab.
“Come for me, sweetheart. Make a mess just how I like it,” he growls, his voice completely raw as he feels his own orgasm about to rip through his body.
That’s the exact breaking point.
The praise ruins you completely, and your walls collapse. You clamp down around him incredibly tight, your hips stuttering against his as a violent, toe-curling climax hits you. You scream his name into the empty lab, your fingers clawing at his back, dragging him under with you.
Hearing you break completely shatters whatever restraint Tony had left. He lets out a low, guttural groan, driving into you three more times—hard, deep, and utterly possessive—before he completely unloads inside you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his chest heaving heavily against yours as he pumps his release into you, filling you up until he’s completely spent.
For a long minute, the only sound is the two of you trying to catch your breath. Tony stays buried deep inside you, his heavy body keeping you pinned to the workbench as his heart beats wildly against your ribs.
Slowly, the fog of the orgasm begins to clear, and that familiar, toxic reality starts creeping back into the room. He pulls out of you with a soft sigh, leaving you feeling instantly cold and exposed on the glass desk.
Tony grabs a stray rag from the workbench, wiping himself down before tossing it aside with that casual, effortless detachment that always makes your stomach drop. He looks down at you, a slow, satisfied smirk returning to his lips as he buttons his pants. The vulnerable, desperate man who called you at 3:00 AM is gone, replaced entirely by the billionaire who just got exactly what he wanted.
"See?" Tony murmurs, reaching down to playfully tap your chin, completely ignoring the absolute mess he left you in. "I told you that you were missing me"
sometimes it genuinely feels like other people don't remember being children. "omg if a 13 year old is looking at porn there is something deeply wrong 😨 they shouldn't even be thinking about sex!!" they are going through puberty and their hormones are going crazy. do you remember being 13 years old.
There were things my brain was spontaneously generating in idle moments at 13 years old that could genuinely get me cancelled as an adult on certain corners of tumblr. I didn't even know what kink was, had access to barely any information about sex or how it was done, but my god the raw enthusiasm of my brain at that age outpaces any other era of my life in terms of generating novel obscenity.
Stephen arched an eyebrow, giving Clint his most judgmental look. “Are you dismissing one of the most beloved movies of the 80s, perhaps, some might say one of the most beloved films in all of cinematic history.”
Clint made a face. “No. I’m just surprised you would choose it. I’d expect something like that from Parker.”
Peter just shrugged at that. “I still have the rest of the Star Wars movies to go through. The Last Jedi is next.”
Several people groaned at that. Star Wars was a controversial movie among the Avengers, the sequel trilogy even more so. Stephen had no real opinion on it. It wasn’t any better or worse than the other movies some of the Avengers chose. Some of the Avengers liked sports films. He resisted shuddering at just the thought. “It’s a good movie,” Stephen said. “Like I said, a beloved classic.”
“What’s a beloved classic?” Rhodey asked as he and Tony walked into the room, cutting off whatever they’d been discussing.
“E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial,” Stephen said. “I chose it for movie night.”
Tony’s head came up slightly and his eyes lit up, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You like E.T.?”
“It was a much loved movie in my house growing up,” Stephen offered. Which was true, but not at all the reason he was choosing it. “Now, are we going to actually have movie night?” It was enough to get everyone moving. Popcorn was gathered, candy distributed, seats chosen, and lights dimmed before FRIDAY launched the movie.
Tony had taken the spot next to Stephen—which had become more and more normal on the regular movie nights—and he waited until the credits had passed and the movie had started to lean in to Stephen’s space so that he could communicate without drawing attention. “You win movie night,” he said quietly. “Jarvis picked me up for one of my boarding school’s parent days and took me to watch it in theaters.” His smile was soft and warm. “Still one of my favorite ever movies.”
Stephen smiled at him. “I know,” he said.
That earned him a scrutinizing look.
“I do like the movie,” Stephen said, answering the question he knew Tony was thinking. “I wouldn’t choose a movie I genuinely don’t like.”
“But?” Tony asked, but his smile was bright and a little teasing now.
Stephen shrugged with ease. “Well, I thought it was about time you finally get a movie you actually want, not just a movie you’ll enjoy. You know, you don’t have to give away your choice every time, right?”
It was Tony’s turn to shrug. “It’s just a movie.”
It was far more complicated than that, but movie night wasn’t the right time to get into it. “Well, those might be. But this isn’t just a movie,” Stephen said.
He saw understanding in Tony’s eyes, though he didn’t respond. All he did was shift just slightly so that their shoulders were pressed together. And if, when Tony reached for popcorn in the bowl they were sharing, their fingers brushed…
Stephen: Due to personal reasons I'll be marrying Tony
Tony, looking Stephen up then down: I'm going to allow that.
Thank you for your service 🙏
“—obviously it’s Tony,” Rhodey was saying as Stephen entered the room where the group was gathering for a movie night.
Wong snorted. He’d beaten Stephen here, having cared less about sprucing up a bit before the movie night, and it looked like he’d taken that extra time to find some sort of disagreement to engage in. “I’ll give you that Tony is audacious, but I assure you, Stephen has him beat by miles.”
“What have I beat Tony at?” Stephen asked as he examined the couches and who had set up where and—more importantly—where he’d have the best chances of getting Tony to sit next to him. He’d already bribed Wong to sit next to Rhodey, which took out his biggest competition. Stephen had, of course, stacked his odds by bringing sour gummy worms, which Tony had a slightly unhealthy obsession for.
“Who in the group is the most audacious,” Steve informed him. “And sorry, Stephen, but it’s going to be Tony.”
Stephen arched an eyebrow at that as he chose his couch. “You think Tony is more audacious than I am?” he asked, a little amused. He could understand where that assumption was coming from. Because Tony was… well, Tony was Tony. Maybe it might have even been true—though Stephen suspected he’d always have given Tony a run for his money—but Stephen had had several million timelines to lose any hesitation he might have once had.
“It’s Tony,” Steve said, as though it was explanation enough.
“What’s me?” Tony asked as he strolled in.
Stephen turned toward him, smiling. “The person I’m marrying,” he said.
“What?” came from several directions, the question ranging from please repeat I had to have heard that wrong to utterly baffled you would say something that wild.
Stephen just shrugged, pretending there was nothing odd about the declaration. “Due to personal reasons,” he started, as though clarifying, “I’ll be marrying Tony.”
Tony blinked at him for a moment, before giving Stephen a slow, appreciative once over. “I’ll allow that,” he decided.
“Wait did you just propose to Tony to prove a point?” Rhodey asked, sounding offended on Tony’s behalf.
As Stephen had known it would—someone would have asked, Rhodey had just gotten there first—that made Tony laugh. “You’re using me to make a point?” he asked. “Is it a good one?”
Stephen shrugged. “They didn’t think I was audacious.”
“So you decided to prove you were audacious by proposing?” Tony asked, grinning.
Natasha snorted. “I don’t think that really counts as a proposal,” she pointed out. “More a declaration.”
Tony moved over and fell onto the cushion next to Stephen. “I love a man who will go to any lengths to prove a point.”
“So you’ll marry me?” Stephen asked.
Tony answered by shifting a little and then reaching out to pull Stephen in for a kiss.
Stephen really hadn’t planned on their first kiss having such an audience, especially when a subpar kiss might mess with Stephen’s chances on getting that wedding. Which meant Stephen didn’t let his audience deter him from making it a very good kiss.
When Tony pulled back, he looked very satisfied at Stephen’s efforts. “Oh, yeah. We're getting married.”
Stephen smiled at him, victory blooming hot in his chest.
In the background, he heard Wong sigh, clearly exasperated with Stephen’s antics. “I told you. He takes audacious to whole new levels.”
“Good,” Tony said, even though he didn’t look away from Stephen. “I like my men audacious.”
Most people don’t even know her name.
Alice Parker is her name. Back in 1919, she created and patented a gas powered heating system when most homes were still using fireplaces and coal stoves. She imagined heating an entire home safely, with different rooms warmed individually instead of relying on one fire source.
Even though her system wasn’t fully used back then, her ideas are the reason modern central heating and zoning exist today. That’s Black history. That’s legacy.
Did a little digging and found an article talking about her in as much detail as the researcher could find including images from the patent she filed and which discusses how black scientists are often hidden or forgotten:
Beyond mistaken identity and misattributed invention, huge gaps remain in the history of Alice Parker. Here's what one reporter’s research u
I mean the whole damn point of the Nativity story is that the supposed son of God (interpret Jesus how you fucking want, of course) was born to a couple of poor, exhausted peasants in the stable for the inn, and his first bed was a feeding trough for animals. That would nowadays be like a poor couple where the mother gives birth in a parking garage behind the motel because they couldn’t find a better place and nobody else would take them in. It’s a pretty gritty setting, and the idea is that God was reborn in some of the rock-bottom lowest circumstances. The only thing majestic was all the angels and shit, and of course motherly love
I get that a lot of the art portraying Madonna and Child as fabulously wealthy europeans in splendid robes and golden light was meant to glorify God + whichever nobility was sponsoring the artist, and while of course it’s genuinely beautiful art, it just always struck me as horribly missing the point, which is that the supposed son of God started in incredibly humble circumstances, among the kind of people that everyone else looks down on
‘Massacre des Innocents’ by Leon Cogniét, 1824. Although the Feast of the Holy Innocents is in a couple of days time, this painting is still really relevant in that it portrays Mary as how She really was: a scared refugee mum, so fearful that Her son was going to be one of the Innocents killed by King Herod.
from an exhibit of nativity sets in barcelona (2023), with jesus born next to atm machines (top), in a war-destroyed movie theater (middle), and in an alley (bottom, featuring graffiti saying “coronavirus”, “no human being is illegal”, and the anarchist symbol)
Stephen and Tony fake!dating for a mission. They’re just a little too comfortable with each other though.
“Shit,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair as they watched the video feed of the security cameras of the cruise ship from the helicarrier, far enough from the cruise ship to be out of sight as long as their retro-reflective panels kept working, ready to be called in if necessary. Not that he thought it would be necessary, Stephen and Tony were both competent on their own. Together? Sam honestly didn’t think there was much they couldn’t handle. They had worked well together from the start. Watching them? Sam was starting to think there were a lot of things about the two of them that… worked well together. “Do they realize?”
Steve gave Sam a confused look while Natasha shook her head. “They have literally no idea.”
No idea. How could they have no idea? Watching them it just felt so obvious. Stephen and Tony had finagled their way onto this specific couples cruise last minute, and now they were ‘playing’ at being deeply in love while they carefully planted a few bugs on a certain select people and in certain select places. Sam had to admit he was impressed, because even watching he hadn’t actually seen Tony place any of the bugs, but four had already gone online after being properly set.
Natasha had said Tony was sneakier than he looked, but Sam honestly hadn’t believed her. Natasha had also been the one who said that Tony and Stephen could pull off this particular con. Sam hadn’t believed that either, not until now.
Steve cleared his throat slightly, clearly looking for an explanation. “Who doesn’t know what?” he asked.
Sam waved at the video feed where they were all watching. “Those two. They’re in love with each other.”
The look Steve gave him was baffled. “Yeah. That’s how it’s supposed to look.”
Sam shook his head. “No man, they’re in love with each other. And they don’t know.”
Steve shook his head. “They’re not—”
“No,” Natasha interrupted. “Sam’s right. They’re in love with each other and don’t know. Why else do you think I said we should send Stephen and Tony?”
“This is a new terrorist cell working with a disgruntled apprentice who left Kamar-Taj and is using love charms to control people,” Steve reminded them. “Stephen handles the magic, Tony gets into the files on this new group.”
Natasha pointed at Steve as though he’d hit the nail on the head. Even though he very much hadn’t. “Exactly. An apprentice who is using some sort of love charm. Love charms can’t work on people who are already in love. I asked Wong about it. Stephen and Tony aren’t at risk for getting compromised.”
They all looked at the security feed again. Tony was laughing, head thrown back and the delight obvious on his face even through a security feed. Stephen was watching him smugly, a soft expression on his face. It was that expression that had clued Sam in. Finally. Because that… that wasn’t something the average person could fake. On the screen Tony stopped laughing, grinning at Stephen and the look in his eyes was… well, smitten.
“Huh,” Steve said, tone thoughtful. “And they don’t know?”
“They have no idea,” Natasha said. “I was kind of hoping this mission would clue them in. Knowing them, though, they’re going to convince themselves that they’re just that good at acting.”
Steve frowned, and Sam could practically see him deciding that they obviously couldn’t let that stand.
Sam wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, because when Steve decided things couldn’t stand, he didn’t exactly just sit back. He had to do something. Sam almost felt bad for Tony and Stephen, but really… it was for the best. And if Steve decided they had to do something about this… well, Sam was always up for helping Steve when it was a good cause.
I love that the modern-day tumblr post equivalent of chain emails only requires me to reblog a relatively pleasant image instead of forward an email to a bunch of my friends and family members to quell my raging anxiety.
american mutuals please confirm or deny for me whether or not its common for you guys to put butter on popcorn. I just saw a tiktok where someone did and no one in the comments was acting like it was weird so I assume this is a thing??
if it *is* a thing: 1) why? 2) how does it taste? surely this is not nice?
…..pookies?!? Everyone needs to go to an American theater right now! Is there a market for an American theater with a butter dispenser in England ?? I’ll open one myself if that’s what it takes !
