just saw this in my camera roll and realized i didn’t post it on tumblr so there it is
just saw this in my camera roll and realized i didn’t post it on tumblr so there it is
masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist
Stephenstartony budding friendship. Lucy is creepy. Tony is in trouble. Sorry for the long wait y'all. Not-so-gentle reminder that this story contains horror elements.
"It's a useless degree," I waved off Stephen's and Tony's fitful attempts to dissipate the awkward moment. My cheeks were stuffed with pizza and the wine in my belly let me relax into the couch and enjoy the conversation and the company.
"No knowledge is useless," fingers swishing the red liquid in his glass, Stephen used his other hand to comb through Tony's hair, who didn't seem to mind Stephen's tremors in the slightest.
The engineer had shamelessly taken up three quarters of the whole couch, head in his boyfriend's lap and feet freely dangling off the other end. "Some skills are just more useful," Tony supplied earnestly, causing Stephen to groan and send me an apologetic look.
"Yeah, like social skills," I raised an eyebrow, looking down at the engineer. "Shame they don't teach those at MIT."
"Ouch," the engineer topped off his look of hurt with a slap to his chest. Stephen's short laugh caused Tony to double down on the puppy eyes, glaring (very sparkling) daggers at his boyfriend. "You're supposed to be on my side here."
I couldn't resist the giggles that bubbled up in my chest from the way Stephen raised his eyebrows, jaw firm, piercing eyes laughing at his boyfriend's misfortune as he prepared to, undoubtedly, shoot an equally snarky remark back. My finger pointed first to Tony, then to Stephen. "Pot, kettle."
"Hey," Stephen turned to me, forcing me to meet his eyes with the same piercing stare. "Don't make me regret being nice to you."
It was Tony's time to snort. "Oh, I demand to know."
My eyeroll was of cosmic magnitude. "Steph blushed because we had to hold hands!" I teased, throwing the ball in his court before he could spin the story in his favour.
"I did not!" The sorcerer retorted immediately, fingers twitching. "And if I recall correctly - which I do, because I have an eidetic memory - it was you who said to not tell Tony because, and I quote, "he'll never live it down"," satisfied with himself, Stephen leaned back, letting his boyfriend cackle freely.
"Look at me, I'm mister Stephen Strange, I have perfect memory," I mocked his deep voice, exaggerating the southern-sounding, miniscule undertones of his accent.
Tony only laughed harder, curling in on himself on top of a disgruntled, red Stephen. "Ooh, this is getting better by the second!"
The wine was the best I've in years and, evidently, I wasn't the only one who'd allowed themselves to partake in it a little more than strictly necessary.
"First of all, it's doctor Strange," he corrected coolly. "And I don't sound like that!"
"Babycakes," Tony gasped out. "That's not very yeehaw of you," as the words came out with a slight stutter, Stephen's face clouded, the red on his cheeks glowed. Oh my God...
"Dr. Fancy is a cowboy?" My empty wine glass clattered on the table. It was near impossible, imagining the tall, regal man with a full-on southern accent. Tony's eyebrows wiggled salaciously. I gave in to the banter. "Well, Tony, you know what they say. Save a horse..."
Stephen's drawled-out groan was overshadowed by Tony absolutely losing it, mimicking throwing a lasso over the furiously blushing, face-palming sorcerer.
"Tony..." The warning notes rumbled low in Stephen's throat.
"Oooh, is the big bad wizard going to abduct and have his way with me?" Tony dramatically flopped over in his boyfriend's lap, bringing the back of his hand to his forehead and rolling his eyes for the extra flair. The engineer's speech was slightly blurred, his cheeks flushed a glowing red.
"I just might," Stephen rolled his eyes, shoving at Tony's chest. "You're insufferable."
"Please, take your foreplay outside of my home," I raised my hands at the quickly escalating situation. "People in love. Disgusting," I enunciated the last word with a smile, seeing Stephen's own begin to creep at his mouth despite his embarrassment.
The smile grew vicious as a small golden thread extended to Tony as the engineer attempted to speak, none the wiser to Stephen's magic, finding himself suddenly mute. His mouth opened and closed, like a fish, but no sound came out. Tony huffed as Stephen turned to me with a ribbing gleem in his eye.
"I will hex you," speaking flatly, I inched away from the tipsy sorcerer.
"I'd like to see you try," he responded just as dryly, holding down a squirming, agitated Tony. The scenery was as absurd as it was funny - one grown man holding down another, disgruntled, sputtering, both of them seconds away from succumbing to badly suppressed laughter. In the end, Tony won, having snuck his hand under Stephen's ass, pinching the sorcerer where the sun don't shine.
The squeak resulting from it was decidedly unmanly; brows furrowed, Stephen conjured yet another golden circle in my living room, accompanied by the sound of my cackling.
"This is my cue," he stood up with Tony hanging over his shoulder, like a fussy toddler. "Thanks. For everything," Stephen cleared his throat before stepping inside the portal, Tony's laughing eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. With a final wave of his hand, the engineer disappeared, too, and golden sparks scattered over my living room floor, quickly flickering off into nothingness.
I couldn't wait to return to work. Staying at home quickly became boring to me. Even the TV that was running practically 24/7 couldn't mask all the creaks and squeaks of the old house and that, coupled with the unusual neighbors that I had, had me constantly on high alert.
True to the Rules, I've had more than a few strange encounters with the entities from apartment 7; whatever it was, it was not human - voices varied, male, female, but when I dared to look into the peephole, the hallway was as empty as it was dark.
The knocking gave me the creeps at first, I jumped every time someone's knuckles rapped on my door but as with everything, I quickly got used to it. I survived a trip to a different planet for Gaia's sake, what's a little ghost going to do?
Lucy seemed sad to see me unwell. She stopped by a few times and we played and learned more words in ASL; when I recovered enough to step out of my apartment, Lucy was right there, waiting, as if she had known the exact moment I was going to get some much-needed groceries that day.
The little girl was sweet, despite her creepiness, and I decided on side-stepping my usual frugality in favour of splurging on a beautiful porcelain doll I had seen in a window of a vintage store right around the corner. Lucy and the doll looked so much alike, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to see the little girl smile.
And smile she did. I could only blink, utterly frozen in shock, as her mouth stretched into a grin that should not have been anatomically possible on a human being. Several rows of sharp, thin, uneven, lamprey-like teeth glinted their uncanny whiteness at me and all I could truly do was stare, quietly thanking the gods that the monster child was too preoccupied with her new toy to notice my horrified stupor.
I had found out the source of the sloppy chewing noises that erupted whenever Lucy was given food; the reason for her carnivorous diet was as obvious as ever.
"Do you... D'you like it?" I stuttered out, all too aware of the silence suddenly turned awkward.
Lucy immediately clamped her mouth shut, lifting her shiny baby blue eyes to meet mine. "Yes, very much," she signed, all but flailing her arms around out of sheer joy. "She looks just like me!"
"Yes, yes, she does," I finally let out a nervous chuckle, willing my gut to stop from churning. Terrifying as Lucy was, she was still just a child. "Maybe we can even sew her a dress that looks exactly like yours. I have some curtain fabric I don't need. We can make the skirt really puffy," I spoke as Lucy squeezed past me into the apartment, stomping her little feet directly into the kitchen.
Taking her usual seat at the far end of my dinner table, Lucy took the time to carefully arrange her new friend at a respectable distance from herself, smoothing out invisible crevices on the doll's dress, before signing back: "That would be very nice," polite as always, she sat with her spindly arms neatly folded and her back ramrod straight, carefully watching my hands as I positioned the groceries.
Having set her meat right in front of her, I opted to continue shelving my essentials even as Lucy growled and snorted behind me as the tell-tale noises of ferocious chewing briefly overshadowed the crinkling of various plastic wrappers. To say that it didn't bother me would have been a lie; it was just that after seeing Lucy's mouth, I acquired a squirming worm of morbid curiosity, but was still much too afraid to indulge it fully.
I could have just simply turned around. I wasn't squeamish, I'd seen a good deal of blood and gore in my days working as a field medic for the uncanny and unusual, but something told me to hold back.
Looking back at it, I'm glad I did.
The rest of the time spent together went without incident. Bored as I was, the time spent making a dress for the mini-Lucy was a time well spent; we'd played a bit afterwards and I almost felt bad when Lucy spied the clock in the wall, taking her leave shortly after the hands showed 10PM.
Sleep didn't come easy to me these days. My body was still exhausted and I spent most of the time laying or sitting down; my mind, however, was racing, aching for some sort of action, unused to being at a standstill for such a prolonged period of time.
I'd offhandedly complained about it to Stephen and in a baffling bout of sympathy, he began popping in more frequently, more often than not bringing a book or two with him. The literature was useful, if written pretentiously, and I had managed to fill out my third personal notebook with tips, tricks and descriptions of useful spells and rituals that I thought I could potentially adapt for my skillset and practice.
Tony visited me too, sporadically, bringing a welcoming sort of chaos with him. It was one of the small things that saturated my days with vibrancy. A spontaneous pizza and a discussion about - anything, really. Tony could talk about books and theatre and music and everything under the sun as long as he had a listening ear within his proximity; I'd learned quickly to just let him talk.
It was amazing, how much I learned from seemingly meaningless talks. The longer I held his acquaintance, the more I realized how little world actually knew about the man in the iron suit. The media always made it seem like he was some sort of a manbaby with three interests consisting of fast cars, expensive alcohol and attention, but I quickly found out just how wrong these people were.
I was honoured to be called his friend.
For the record, he listened, too. I didn't expect him to understand much of my boring, average, middle-class life but he surprised me once again - first, with loads of questions that were at times, child-like in their bluntness, but then Tony's eyes would go round and big when I spoke about the long summers and my hiking trips and the camp, where I had broken my arm climbing a tree.
I told him about the unforgettable smell of melted tarmac in sweltering July heat and how we would run all across it, barefoot, as children, without a care in the world; how our moms would yell when we came home, smelling like tree pollen and sticky with the juices of stolen apples, covered in scrapes and bruises from our heads to our toes but happy, so exhilaratingly full of life that our mothers' anger never managed to taint those memories.
Tony's quiet awe was met with my chuckling. We drifted from one topic to another, never running out of things to say. Sometimes silence would fall over us and it was never awkward; he was just as captivated as I, observing the outside world through the dusty glass of my windows.
"Can't sleep?" The text came with a buzz, my phone shaking in my hand.
I had the messaging app pulled up, going through my contacts and looking at who had been online recently, hoping that maybe Tony was awake to entertain me for at least a bit and dreading it at the same time: the engineer had hellish sleeping habits.
"Yeah. My brain is going 🌪️🌪️🌪️ from all this house-sitting biz." I replied, Sam's smiling face staring at me from the profile picture on his screen.
"I'll be back in town in a couple of days. 🍻?" He proposed after a short pause.
I missed Sam. He'd been gone on army business for about a week; I couldn't wait to finally get out of the house for any other reason than running to the local bodega.
"Absolutely!!! 🎉💃" I replied, receiving a thumbs up emoji in response before Sam went offline, too. The plans filled me with excitement and I allowed myself to drift off to sleep, idly musing over the outfits in my closet, the choice of drinks and the neverending line of bars on the streets of New York city...
I jolted upright, my phone viciously buzzing right next to my ear. Muddled with sleep, I swiped on the green icon without looking, muttering a raspy: "Hello?" Into it while simultaneously trying to clear my head.
"Hey, Star," Stephen's terse voice woke me up instantaneously. "Is Tony with you?"
"No," I replied after a brief moment of hesitation. "Was he supposed to be?"
"He wasn't home and nobody has seen him since he peeled out of the garage little past one AM," the sorcerer replied. I heard the rapid flickering of pages in the background. "Thought he might've gone to pester you at ungodly hours of the night," Stephen was apologetic.
"Hold up, lemme see," I felt dread slowly creep up my spine, fearing the worst. I think deep inside, I already knew that something was wrong, but refused to believe it without proof nonetheless.
Surely, two texts from Tony's number stared at me from the screen of my phone, mocking me with the frivolous language and a nonsensical string of emojis.
"I'm coming over, you better not be sleeping." Read the first text, spiced up with a bunch of annoyed and angry little faces, topped off with a custom Hulk sticker banging his fists on the floor.
"I think your elevator is broken."
The horror paralyzed me, as my mouth fell open, my eyes blinked multiple times on their own volition as I caught the time of the message. 2:02 AM.
"Oh my God," I squeaked, the phone shaking in my hands. "Oh no."
"What? What is it?" Stephen demanded, voice muted as I held the phone away from my face.
"I... I can't..." I stammered my excuses. "Come over. Right now."
The call ended abruptly. I had the time to put on some pants just as the familiar whooshing noise came from my living room. Just as I stepped out to see Stephen's concerned face, he met mine, and the concern grew into a full-fledged panic as he saw my unblinking, terrified expression.
I didn't trust my mouth to speak, so I walked over to a set of drawers on stuff legs, shoved my hand in them to find the white page of rules I'd been given and thrust it in his face, avoiding his eyes as the crease between his eyebrows deepened with every word he read.
"I didn't think," I started, swallowing the lump of bile and mucus in my throat. "I didn't think I'd have someone to randomly show up at two AM," the excuse sounded feeble to my own ears as I prepared for the inevitable lashing from the sorcerer. The hopeless of the situation was gnawing at me.
"I would not have taken this seriously, anyways," he muttered darkly, standing up and carefully observing the walls of my apartment. Some spells were cast; they glittered both gold and green, as the sorcerer's face grew darker with each second. "I don't understand," he kept mumbling to himself, casting what looked to be the same spell over and over.
"I didn't, at first, not really," i confessed, ashamed. "But then I met Lucy. She's a nice kid, for a mutant."
Stephen turned to look at me, equal parts sorrowful and angry. His stare felt like my skin would melt off my bones at any given moment, the blues of his eyes full of golden sparks. He pulsed with barely contained magic. I trusted his self-control but I had no faith in myself. I fucked up, bad.
The quiet settled into the room, eerie and pregnant, as both of us struggled to come to terms with the current turn of events. The lack of information regarding Tony's whereabouts sent my already restless brain into haywire, endless possibilities taunting me with their outcomes as the ominous consequences for breaking that one rule repeated over and over in my head like a curse.
There was a soft knock on my door; Stephen jumped. My heart hammered in my chest as I stood up in resignation, wandering over to peep through the hole. "It's Lucy," I notified the sorcerer who had an offensive spell already drawn at the palm of his hand. He lowered it, sitting down noisily on my couch, head held in his hands.
The little girl strolled in, her doll secured in her hands, before stopping to stare at the grieving man on my couch. "Is it a bad time?" She signed, frowning.
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say no, too used to her company and the small amount of comfort it provided.
"We lost someone in the elevator," I replied instead, dropping my shoulders, rubbing my face.
"Hmm," the grating noise came from her, causing both Stephen and me to shoot her a concerned look. Lucy scratched her chin as she walked over to the couch to sit down, a respectable distance from Stephen. "You should go ask about the person," she signed, pointing a single, thin finger upwards.
"On the seventh floor?" I perked up.
Lucy nodded, sneaking a glance towards the kitchen. I immediately understood the cue and with a warning look directed at Stephen, I beelined for the fridge, pulling out a slab of bleeding beef with my bare hands and plating it without as much as a second thought.
Peeking out of the kitchen, I saw Stephen's mouth gape as Lucy examined his scarred hands with her tiny, spindly hands; she was as gentle as a babe with it, her doll-like face contorted in a perfect mix of compassion and curiousity.
"Gonna eat?" I asked Lucy, causing her curls to bounce as she raised her head to me.
In the most unceremonious of ways, only in a way that child could posess, she lifted one of Stephen's hands to show me, putting up her tiny little palm against it as the man's eyebrows climbed higher than before.
Lucy's fingers barely reached over the round of Stephen's palm. "Your friend has very big, very pretty hands," she signed afterwards as Stephen looked up at me in confusion.
The snort left my mouth against my will. "Sure he does, but they aren't a snack," I chastised the little girl gently, laughing again as she pouted, stomping her way to the kitchen.
"Huh?" Stephen made a vague noise of perplexion, gesturing at everything and nothing in particular.
I rolled my eyes, fondly. "She likes your hands," setting the bottle of milk on the table and opening a set of different drawers, extracting a metal box full of cookies. "I don't know when I'll be back," the curt tone of my voice made Stephen's frown reappear.
"Where are you going?"
"Seventh floor. Whatever lives there has to have some answers," the protection charms jingled as I threw them around my neck, one after the other. "Play nice. Turn on Downtown Abbey, she likes that show."
To Stephen's muted surprise, I pocketed a large crystal and grabbed the treats. And then I shut the door behind myself, the hollow stomps of my steps echoing in the empty hallway as the gaping maw of the unlit stairwell beckoned me with the possibility of getting our Tony back in one piece.
I preferred to not think about other possibilities, anyways.
Story taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox @secretly-a-weeb @stuckybarton @biiskuitx @bdffkierenwalker
@heyarely16 (couldn't tag you)
Hi everyone! I'm trying to find a story I saw in Ao3. It was a story of Tony Stark practicing Martial arts. He has his own gym for that and when pepper found out he also teached her. Coulson and Fury also found out and he also taught them :333 Please help me find it
You're my Cure for melancholy
Summary: Peter's ever growing resentment, her need to make things right, Tony's everlasting judgment, and Eddie's hope for a second chance, and his needs for just one chance. 15 years goes by fast; but with unfortunate circumstances and wayward absences...the heart does not always grow fonder.
Angsty as all hell
Warnings for full series: dysfunctional family, character death, talks of teen pregnancy, sing motherhood, connon typical violence, alcohol amd drug (weed) use, mention of sexual acts but no smut, parents forcing child out home, rehabilitation centers and military services, trying to make amends with estranged family members, maybe some inaccuracies about everything I just listened.
Disclaimer: This is my first time writing fanfiction in over 15 years lol so am sorry if this just plain sucks. Also am on mobile and I can figure out out how to add "read more", sorry. Its a reader insert,but is written in first person, am going to tey to by as inclusive as pos3for anyone can read it, but the reader is a cis female she/her because for the plot of story. And I still dont know whom she is going to end up with in the end lol this fic is 18+ because of the warnings above.
Your media consumption is your responsibility. I have no way to verify your real age other then the trust and respect that if you are 18 tou will not read, but you have been warn about what the context of this story will contain.
I never thought I would end up back here...well so soon that is. After what happened with Eddie in high school, dad dying, my self destructive spiral down, the fight with mom....
I shook my head causing my (hair length)(hair color) hair to been even mored messed up. The winds are high today, almost as if they're pushing me to go back to the base and reconsider my retirement.
If I kept over thinking and listing all of the events that lead up to this moment I would be gone another 15 years.
Rubbing my calloused on my temple the fell of my (hair type) hair tickling the tips. It has become of habit of being overly aware of my body. My therapist said it was sensory thing. But this anxiety headache just will not go away.
But standing here outside the JFK airport in the autumn chill is not getting mw anywhere. I could make the miles walk to mom's and...his place. It would give time to practice what I could say. Maybe time to back out? No, I have to do this! Its time.
Deciding on taking an Uber, it will get me there faster, which is not what I want but I wont be dragging my luggage with me through Queens. I was Gripping my (favorite color) phone so tight my knuckle were turning white after I requested the ride.
The ride felt shorter then I anticipated.
Standing in front of the red door foe the first time in 10 years felt like a fever dream. My last attempt visit 5 years ago was a nightmare, didn't even stay a week. 15 years have lead up to this moment and I pray it is last moment I have to come back because I want it to be the first moment I stay.
Closing my tried (eye color) eyes I take a deep shaky breath in, count to three, let a shaky breath out. I rise my first anx lightly knock on the door.
The next few seconds felt like the longest moments in my life.
When she open the door she looked as beautiful as ever. It wasn't the Hallmark movie reunion people would expect. Hell of no fury like a woman scorned, right?
"Hi, mom" I say, my voice betraying me as it cracked. Right now I feel like that scared 14 year girl again, and I just need a hug from my mom.
She lets out an exhausted sigh as she says my name in why that makes me my heart drop to my stomach. The look of -I told you so- mixed with the smallest amounts of pride and relief.
She steps aside to let me in. It looks the same as it did all those years ago. Looking around I see all the photos on the wall of him growing up...with out me. Probably for the best though. Still doesn't hurt any less. Dad's earn it still on the shelf was it always was.
I seemed to be back in that fever dream as I walked further into the house. The living room still had the ugly brown rug in it.
The shutting of the door was louder then I remember, the nose bringing me back to reality.
"Am glad you made it here safe" she took a poignant pause. "That you're safe..." stoping before she could finish her thought. A thought her and I both didn't want to have. Being overseas and almost not coming back in piece.
"Yea...me too" I add softly.
The silence was deafening.
Taking up whatever courage I had left; fighting in this god forsaken war seemed easy but talking to my mother ...not so much.
"Is he here?" I ask.
Mom started to open her mouth but the front door opened. My breath got cought in my lungs, my knees locked, and my heart speed up so fast I thought it was to explode.
With each one of his foot steps I heard, my fear would creep further up my spine.
"Hey Anut May I need to go with Mr. Stark this weekend to....." his voice dead with his question when he walked into the living room and say me.
"H..H...Hi Peter." I stuttered, trying to keep my tears in.
Shock was a understatement for the look on his face.
"Mom?" Distained was evident in his entire body, face, and voice.
IronStrange 46 :
If you've seen the Mentalist episode with Belladonna, kinda the same idea.
(am i supposed to say TW for suicide mention? stay safe)
After Titan, Tony and Pepper move to the lake house (no Morgan). As the nightmares start to ebb away, Tony notices the Wizard is always in the background of his dreams, not doing anything. (think NPC (non-player character, like a drone inside the dream)) Time goes by and instead of a background character, the Wizard begins to have a speaking role, but he never says anything important, though his eyes are screaming *. Tony has the feeling Stephen is trying to tell him something important but he keeps waking up before he can hear it. So he takes pills/drugs/whatever to sleep longer, deeper, and get a chance to speak to the Wizard. When he wakes up, whether he got the info or not, Pepper is freaked out thinking he tried to kill himself and breaks up with him (sounds shitty but gotta be hard to wake up next to the one you love and genuinely think they're dead, so no bashing). Where was I. Yeah, and so then he saves the world, all bamf, and then he dates himself a Wizard.
* it is actually Stephen (or his mind coming out of the soul dimension), but he can't control what he says. His mouth speaks without his input, but he feels the desperation of trying to communicate and not being able to.
a very cathartic issue for me... despite floating head syndrome on the cover.
Pepper: Tony, we should really talk about your habit of adopting children when you‘re stressed.
Tony, hiding Peter behind his back: I have no idea what you're talking about
Chapter 4 is up!
After being kidnapped with some of earth’s greatest defenders, Peter is grateful that it appears that their captors aren’t aware that he’s Spider-man.
The problem? To the Avengers, he's just Tony Stark's teenage intern- and Peter intends to keep it that way.
HOW MY HERO LOOKS IN REAL LIFE:
HOW HE LOOKS IN ANIMATION:
HOW HE LOOKS IN MY DREAM:
“Ah, well, by all means, continue to disappoint. I will return.” -- Kang the Conqueror
Cover art for Avengers Mech Strike #005
Art by Kei Zama and Guru-eFX
From Avengers Mech Strike #005
Art by Carlos Magno and Guru-eFX
Written by Jed MacKay
!!! SPOILERS FOR THE LOKI SERIES AND WANDAVISION !!!
Okay, so ...
Loki was arrested by the TVA because he got the Tesseract when the Avengers went back in time to retrieve the Infinity Stones.
The Avengers going back in time was wanted by Kang, who decided what was part of the One True Timeline.
Loki being arrested led to him working with the TVA to catch his variant Sylvie. Later Loki and Sylvie teamed up to find the head of the TVA.
The possibility of Loki and Sylvie dying caused (assumingly) a Nexus Event and allowed the TVA to find and save them, which led to Loki and Sylvie finding Kang in the citadel.
Again, everything that happens up to a certain point is scripted and therefore wanted to happen like this by Kang.
So, Kang does control or at least know about the things happening ‘outside of time’, otherwise it wouldn’t be scripted.
The chance of Sylvie killing him were 99%, let’s be honest here.
This video suggests the moment Wanda gains her powers and becomes the Scarlet Witch is the same moment the script in the citadel ended.
The Scarlet Witch is meant to end the world (as we know it aka the One True Timeline). With the Multiverse possible she can go and find her ‘family’ (Vision and her sons).
Wanda only became the Scarlet Witch because the Avengers went back in time to snap everyone back to existence.
Sylvie only managed to get to Kang because the Acengers went back in time to undo the snap, which is when Loki got the Tesseract and was arrested by the TVA.
If the Avengers hadn’t gone back in time to get the Infinity Stones Loki wouldn’t have been arrested by the TVA, Sylvie wouldn’t have found Kang and Wanda wouldn’t be alive to become the Scarlet Witch.
But Kang wanted the Avengers to go back in time and retrieve the Infinity Stones. He wanted all this to happen the way it did.
In conclusion: The reversion of the Blip caused the Multiverse and Kang wanted it to happen.
Big question: What is his gain?
Drabble 6 - idealism sits in prison
TW: mentions of killing, mentions of infidelity, satan
Time works differently in hell. Tony, though, simply works differently.
It's not unheard of that a human being sent to hell after their untimely demise on earth rises through the ranks and claims the title of demon. It is uncommon, however, especially at the rate at which Tony had received his metaphorical Certification of Being a Demon. Really, Tony has no business becoming one in the first place, because it's less of a rank and more of a type of religious entity, but he had become one anyway.
His boss further downstairs and the big man way, way upstairs are both impressed. So much so that he has been allowed another chance at physically manifesting on earth to perform his due demonic diligence. And who is Tony if not the warmonger everyone loves to hate?
When he wakes up in Afghanistan, it's to his old body, and barely any day has passed since his 'death.' When he's found by his best friend, he has since tortured, killed, and disposed of all the ones responsible for his kidnapping. When he comes back to America, he convinces his secretary to cheat on her boyfriend with him for just a few nights. Pre-marital sex is fun, and sort of against the will of the Lord (if the nine-hour presentation about the Lord's will Tony had to sit through as part of his torture and training is anything to go by) but it does get boring very fast, even if it is an affair.
That, and now Tony has to find himself a new secretary and a new chauffeur.
It isn't until he meets an artist when things change.
"You’re slipping,” his boss tells him through his bathroom mirror.
“I’m brushing my teeth,” Tony says with his mouth full of minty foam as he raises an eyebrow at his own reflection.
Tony hears a scoff. “At least get the guy’s soul.”
“First of all, not my job.” He spits out the foam and rinses his mouth off. “Second, I am not slipping. We’re having lots of pre-marital sex.”
“That,” Satan says with a yawn as if to prove his point, “is the most boring sin you can tempt someone with. Boring. Uninteresting. Might as well tempt him to jack off. Which he already does with or without you and your temptations.”
Tony smirks. “I’m not gonna tempt him to kill someone,” he says.
“Then tempt him to—” The sound of a chair screeching on a tiled floor seeps through the mirror. He’d think that the connection to hell would have better noise suppression. “Oh, I don’t know. Not help out an old lady crossing the street?”
“That’s more interesting than sex?”
Satan sighs. “At least make the sex public.”
“That makes it a worse—wait, better? Worse? Eugh, that makes it a more intense sin, somehow?”
“Makes it more entertaining,” Satan says.
Tony rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll put ‘public sex’ on my list.”
“This Steve guy better be worth it,” is the last thing his boss tells him for the night, before the glowing pentagram above Tony’s bathroom mirror disappears completely.
Invincible Iron Man #3 (Goodwin/Craig, July 1968). Proof that Tony Stark has a heart.
*on a stealth mission*
tony: what the f*ck are you doing?
peter: it’s my stealth noise!
tony: shut the f*ck up! you’re gonna get us found
clint & peter: nanananananana
tony: everyone shut the f*ck up
steve, nat, bruce, thor, clint and peter: NANANANANANANANANANANANANANANA