#616 stony

[alice1939]

[Commission I ordered] [Artist: Andrew Pastel - Fb]

I just... have a thing for Steve in the coffin concept, so here we are. His coffin is filled with red poppy, which symbolizes remembrance of dead soldiers. And we have Tony's hand there because of The Confession.

[swiatloanjo]

MARVEL COMICS GIVE ME MORE OF THEM AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!

[stevetony-quotes]

Tony's 'cap' coffee mug 💙❤️

[jupitermelichios]

my favourite sexuality for comic book characters to be is "we made this other character canonically queer because of their relationship with them but for some reason they are still canonically straight"

like wade wilson? mostly canonically queer because of the period where he was married to cable. he was in a queer relationship, so we have to just make him canonically queer. (Yes I know it's not the only reason, I have read all his extremely camp early 00s comics, but lets be real they'd have kept insisting that was all just a joke if it wasn't for Cable and Deadpool).

cable? definitely straight. 100% straight. obviously cable is straight. his relationship with wade is only gay during the & Deadpool, in the Cable part of the book it's very straight. He stands next to a woman sometimes, that's how you can tell it's not gay.

Kitty has, finally, been allowed to come out, but for like a decade, Illyana was canon queer because she dated Kitty, but Kitty was definitely straight and would never date a woman, and no one at marvel thought there was anything weird about that.

[Image Description: a very straight character, interacting with another straight character, in a very believably straight way]

Marvel has way more of these, mostly by virtue of having more queer characters and also chris clairmont (you can never understate the impact of chris clairmont in these matters) but Tim Drake and Kon Kent spring to mind from DC.

I think you could even make a solid argument that 616 Tony and Steve are that, given Tony is out now and Steve, somehow, still isn't.

anyway you don't really get these in any other medium, because they require multiple writers who all wildly disagree with one another to all write the same characters to happen, but i love them, and as much as I want Cable and Kon to come out, I kind of hope this never stops happening in comics, it's just never not funny.

[pomegranatecrab]

So, I wrote a thing where Tony has an asshole cat for a bit of light hearted stony, but I’m reposting because I’ve changed how the cat looks. I feel like it’s pretty obvious why I did it and I think it adds more to the story. This is around 2k now but when it’s done I’ll post the rest on ao3:) (also there’s more now)

Steve had met Tiddles once, the cat aboard HMS Argus during the war that enjoyed tugging at the bell-rope. He had napped in Steve’s shield, killed a few mice and accepted ear scratches during his brief stay. He wasn’t unfamiliar with cats. They mostly liked him. The strays near his old building would peer out at him from the dumpsters while he wheezed, furious, on the ground after his latest fight.

Tony Stark's cat, Palug, was the sickliest, scrawniest looking cat Steve had ever seen.

He’s small, more tail than anything, a mottled combination of blonde, with sharp little teeth that he licks every few seconds. He had been steadily watching Steve for a good few minutes while he waited for Mr Stark, eyes brimming with suspicion.

Tony Stark breaks the tension by striding into the mansion's living room, beaming at Steve and Palug, hands in his pockets. He’s dressed impeccably, black shoes with an artful heel, cream coloured trousers and a navy jacket atop a well-fitting vest. His tie hangs over his shoulder, collected almost immediately by Palug, who trots over to the couch with it in his mouth.

“You’re the first to move in, but everyone else isn’t far behind.”

It’s his second time in the house, and he had forgotten when he accepted the invitation that the devil resides not in hell, but at Tony Stark’s personal home.

He had to get new shoelaces for his boots, darn holes in his socks and take the blame for a trodden on petunia that Jarvis had glared something fierce at him for the first time he had visited.

Steve shoots a smile at Tony, and a wary look at Palug.

“He’s cute, isn’t he? He won’t bother you.”

Cute isn’t usually a word that eludes a tiny cat, but the pure anger radiating off him is enough to chase off the allegations.

“I’m sure we’ll get along fine,” Steve says, tightening his resolve.

There were more important things to worry about in this new century than a cat. Iron Man’s friendship, getting to know Tony Stark, their generous benefactor, and dealing with the awful reality that everything he knows is gone.

————

His socks are missing.

He has three pairs, and they’ve all vanished.

A set of Stark Unlimited socks, given to him when he woke up, and two plain white pairs that he bought after collecting his jaw off the floor at the sight of the little price tag beneath them.

It was more than enough.

Steve scratches his head, and shoves his feet in bare. Any blisters would heal before they’d become an annoyance.

Iron Man is in the kitchen, sipping something green from a straw. It looks frankly, hideous.

The sight of him is enough to draw a smile. If there was one thing that had been consistent since he woke up, it was Iron Man. He lends Steve books without a second thought, discusses movies from the 1930s with him, shoves new foods at him whenever he can, eagerly awaiting his reaction despite not being able to enjoy the meal with him, and of course, basketball.

“Shellhead! Ready for a game?”

Iron Man straightens. The faceplate, devoid of emotion, does nothing to negate his enthusiasm as he nods.

“Winghead! Are you ready to lose spectacularly?”

Steve grins. He wonders if Iron Man is smiling under the mask. The voice modulator works well, but his joy bleeds through all the same.

“No flying this time.”

There’s a rather smug silence, broken by the obnoxious noise of Iron Man sucking up the last dregs of his drink.

Steve turns on his heel, heading for the gym.

“Or rollerskates.”

“You can keep up, though!”

————

“Come on.”

“No.”

“You have superhuman balance and reflexes, you’d be fine.”

“No!” Steve laughs, reclining backwards on his hands, the basketball rolling pathetically between his legs.

“Roller skates are just as great as flying,” Iron Man says, sitting propped up on the wall next to Steve, tapping one finger restlessly against the ground.

“You’ll get them in a garish colour.”

“What’s garish about red, white and blue?”

Steve rolls his eyes and shoves at Iron Man’s shoulder.

Their game had been cut short by Palug, who came trotting in when Iron Man left briefly to grab them some water bottles, and sunk his teeth right into the hole meant for the pump.

Iron Man hadn’t cared that the ball was popped, plopping down with his customary straw, red and gold, and chattering about how J.R.R Tolkien had been a stain on earth.

“He wasn’t as popular as he is now,” Steve mentions, “it was all about Steinbeck.”

“Have you ever read the Gift of the Magi?” Iron Man asks.

“Heard of it,” Steve offers, “but I’ve never read it. Only ever read what was in the library.”

“It's very short, but nice. You’d like it.”

“I’ll add it to the list.” Steve pulls himself to his feet, offering a hand and pulling up the armour with ease.

The long, long list.

“Mr Stark has a copy.” Iron Man collects the deflated ball, tucking it neatly under his arm. “I’ll make sure he gets it to you.”

“I don’t want to bother Mr Stark,” Steve says.

Or his feral cat.

“You’re never a bother, Steve. Now, come on. I’ll show you the mansion's library.”

————

The rest of the Avengers move in soon after Steve does, filling the mansion with a range of personalities. Jarvis is unphased by the variety of character, and soon bans Hawkeye from the stove, which Steve thinks only encourages the build up of empty pizza boxes.

He’s eating his breakfast outside, savouring the taste of eggs, the salty richness of bacon and the odd texture of mushrooms, something he’d never tasted before. The silence is odd. There should be bare feeding slapping down the dilapidated road, children ready for the long walk to the library or the corner store, walks Steve usually couldn’t make.

Tony Stark’s mansion boasted a large garden, impeccably maintained and secluded from the bustle of New York. Cobbled paths coil around the large expanse of grass, weaving through beds of flowers, ending at the gazebo that Steve sits in. It overlooks a small pond, home to some brightly coloured fish that had flocked to the surface the moment he stepped onto the platform.

Steve’s watching the orange one he’d dubbed ‘Monocle’ when he notices them.

A pair of his socks, filled with suspicious holes, floating amongst the reeds.

He sighs, scraping his chair as he stands, and is glad that he’s at least tall enough to scoop them out of the water easily, plucking the drenched fabric between two fingers.

There’s a familiar jingle behind him.

Palug jumps elegantly from the stairs onto the table, nose twitching over the bacon. He snaps it up between his teeth, hops onto the chair and politely chews on his prize, before hacking an awful, chest rattling cough.

Steve scowls at the cat.

“You-”

“Steve!”

Steve straightens, pretending like he hadn’t been about to engage in a petty squabble with a spoiled house cat.

“Mr Stark.”

Mr Stark waves a hand, rolling on the balls of his feet as he looks around, darting small glances at his face, before settling on Palug, who was still clearing his throat, plopped on the table and flicking his tail.

“Tony is fine, please.” He holds out the book in his hand, faded and worn. “Iron Man mentioned you were interested in this?”

It was a copy of The Gift of the Magi, a thin book with a painting of a woman with long, gorgeous hair on the cover. Belatedly, Steve realises this is the book Iron Man had recommended.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way for me. Thank you.”

Tony smiles. He steps forward to rub a hand over Palug’s back, inciting a heavy litany of purring.

“I first read that at school. The librarian let me take out double the amount of books usually allowed. I’d take them all down to this big tree right on the edge of the school grounds and read until curfew.”

Steve runs a thumb over the wrinkled lines marring the illustration, yellow cracks that web across the fine paper.

“She must have liked you,” he murmurs.

“She said I was the only boy that didn’t carry on like an imbecile,” Tony grins, “high compliments.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, stepping stiffly around Palug, who still gazed at him with fiery eyes, despite the content rumbling bubbling from his chest.

He all but books it back to his bedroom.

————

Steve reads the Gift of the Magi twice and thinks about his old life each time.

He’s jealous, really, that these characters got to make their sacrifices and come back to each other.

But Iron Man had been right. He did like it, and it’s on the third read that he notices the library loan card at the back.

‘Tony Stark’ is etched in careful handwriting in every single box, the dates all varying.

At the bottom a loopy scrawl had been left in black ink.

Mr Stark, you’re the only boy in school who checks this book out. It’s yours. Enjoy your summer.

Mrs Rembly.

Steve’s lips twitch.

It’s a bit backhanded, but thoughtful.

He imagines Tony as a young boy, utilising his precious free time with the sprawling, imaginary worlds at his disposal.

The clock on the wall, ticking monotonously, points glumly to the number three. He hasn’t slept all night.

Steve sighs, standing from the comfortable armchair he’d pulled over to the window, and heads into the hallway, treading quietly to the kitchen. There’s soft voices trickling in from the room, audible to Steve only because of the serum. Warm light pours out onto the floorboards, relieving the heavy darkness that the mansion boasts at night.

“I tell you to rest and you never do. Instead, you sneak outside and pick fights with cats twice your size. Do you know how that makes me feel, Palug?”

Steve pauses beside the elegant archway that connects the kitchen to the hallway.

“It makes me very anxious,” Tony says. His voice is stern, though obviously fond.

Palug chitters, a soft little sound that’s nothing like the awful howls he’s normally capable of.

“You’re an utter bastard,” Tony murmurs, right as Steve reveals himself, stepping quietly into the light. Palug is lounging on the counter, his tiny head rubbing light circles into Tony’s hand. He glares at Steve, stretching out his skinny legs, all wrapped in brightly coloured bandages.

“Was he attacked?” Steve asks, worried, even with evil little blue eyes staring holes into his soul.

Tony frowns at Palug, arms akimbo.

“More like who did he attack,” Tony grumbles, “he can slip out beneath the slightest crack in any window and he goes off to fight Maine Coons and the largest alley cats you’ve ever seen. I’m sure he’d have moved on to mountain lions by now, if we had any in New York.”

Steve raises an eyebrow; silently judging Tony’s cat for being an idiot.

Just yesterday morning he had watched the cat wheeze his way over to his water bowl.

“He’s the size of a rat,” Steve says, “and not even a big rat.”

“I know,” Tony groans, rubbing lightly at his chest, the fabric creasing stiffly under his hands.

“Maybe you could take him on walks,” Steve offers.

He had seen it himself at the park, cats leading their owners into shrubbery from a thin lead, usually only to get shooed away from the native fauna.

“I tried, he just chokes himself to death on his harness. He’s a stubborn little thing.”

Steve shrugs, stepping a suitable distance away from Palug while he grabs a glass of water, frowning at a bottle of green smoothie that was half full.

“Iron Man must have left this here,” Steve says, emptying out the contents into the drain, Tony’s wide eyes following the movement with dismay.

“Yeah,” Tony says, after a minute of blinking, “I’ll tell him not to do that.”

He was rather pale, but dangerously beautiful in the low light.

The tips of Steve’s ears begin to burn, an awful realisation crawling into the midst of his stomach and settling like a stone.

Palug blinks demurely at Tony, before turning his gaze to Steve, tail flicking in immediate displeasure. A small paw stretches out, innocently, and pushes Steve’s glass right off the ledge of the counter.

It doesn’t shatter, thankfully, thanks to Steve’s quick reflexes, but it does spray water all over his socks.

He thinks the cat might finally get his comeuppance, but it never comes.

“Palug,” Tony groans, “don’t do that! You could hurt yourself.”

He fusses with the bandages on Palug, checking them all, muttering under his breath.

Steve stares at Tony, who had, only a second ago, been staring at Steve from beneath thick eyelashes. He hadn’t realised how blue Tony’s eyes were, very much like Iron Man’s, startling and intense in their colour, and brimming with cleverness.

“Goodnight, Tony,” Steve says quickly, stepping back towards the door, his only escape. He looks pointedly at the ceiling to avoid the allure of ethereal eyes, and walks silently back to his room, red right down to his chest.

He was not allured by Tony Stark, or jealous of a sickly, scrawny cat.

[angryandanonymous]

Doodle of Steve and Tony getting together when Steve turns up at Tony’s Seattle flat to see/surprise him during @cherryblossomsmist “The Single Biggest Problem with Communication” . A fic I am happy to draw all day long (I’m also happy to draw Tony’s thighs all day long) This interaction is just so sweet, and there are so many delicious angsty layers of misunderstanding and miscommunication that still can’t hide the love that these two dorks have for each other.

The scene from the fic;

‘‘[Steve] pulled Tony into him. Tony might be heavier, but Steve was still strong enough to move him, even to get his hands under him and lift him, and that was exactly what he did, pulling him into his lap so his knees landed on either side of Steve’s hips. He could probably have done it even with Tony in the armor; in fact, he was sure he could (and wasn’t that a thought?).

“Hey,” Tony said, breathlessly.

Steve reached up, framed Tony’s face with his hands, running his fingers back into his hair. He smiled at him. “Yes?” he asked, grinning.

“Manhandling me?” Tony said, starting to grin a little back.

“Sure, a little,” Steve said, moving his fingers gently in Tony’s hair. It was soft against his fingers, tangled already. Tony’s erection was very hot and very present, pressed into his stomach, now. “You got a problem with that?”

“Not really,” Tony said. “You were pretty thorough about it the other day. When we were sparring, I mean.”

“Not as thorough as I could be,” Steve said, smirking.

Tony’s skin darkened a little, and Steve could feel it heat against his hands. Tony had flushed at that. Steve grinned with delight.

“I’m sure that’s true,” Tony muttered. He shifted his hips a little, up into Steve. “Plan to demonstrate, or are you just teasing?”

“Maybe a little of both,” Steve informed him.

Tony smirked, now. “I guess that’s acceptable,” he said, dropping his gaze to look at Steve from under his eyelashes, which apparently went straight both to somewhere in Steve’s chest to make it tighten a little and to his cock, making it jerk with a heated rush of desire. Steve pulled Tony closer, tilted their foreheads together, and Tony bit his lip as it pressed their groins tighter up against each other.

It felt good, but Steve wasn’t that interested in rushing to the main event, not yet. Instead he waited until Tony cast his eyes up toward him again, raising one eyebrow, then tilted Tony’s head with the grip he had on him and brought their lips together. Tony sucked in his breath and opened his mouth, and Steve set about kissing him thoroughly, running his fingers back through his hair in slow circles as he did. Tony made a low noise and curled his hands back around Steve’s neck, and his cock grew even hotter, slick and hard and needfully wet with precome as they kissed; Steve could feel it sliding hot against his stomach, so hard he half-wondered how far he could bring Tony toward climax just by kissing him with tongue.’��

Written work is all @cherryblossomsmist work, only the drawing and the description before the fic extract are mine .

[superdecibels]

This trope but stonified:

1) 616

2) MCU

3) AA

[amaranthmori]

Come join our discord community for your fave characters. All fandoms allowed, 18+, kxnk friendly! Multi fandom, fandom ships welcome. Post your art, stories, content or enjoy other’s work. Be part of a friendly, awesome community with fun weekly events and so much more!

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[dirigibleplumbing]

616 Steve with the Extremis helmet

a few years ago @sabrecmc reblogged this delicious painting and I’ve been thinking about doing a Steve/Tony version ever since. thanks for the inspiration sabre!

a million thanks to @oluka for helping me with the proportions! I couldn’t have done it without her.

[dear-alex-chill]

What can I say? I ship it...

[alice1939]

[Commision I ordered]

[Artist: https://twitter.com/ilmeowmoew] Glorifying that "I just know you as Tony" moment because they deserve it. <3

[swiatloanjo]

Rip Tony Stark, you'd hate to identify with Olivia Rodrigo's song "Lacy"

[blotmath41]

[stevetony-quotes]

[wolvesandfoxes25]

You know... I've been back on my Stony kick, rewatching the movies... and can't help but really hate Endgame. Don't get me wrong, I loved my Stony scenes, but damn, most everything else is like... but why? ⬇️

I'm gonna get backlash for this, but I don't care. Morgan Stark seemed really unnecessary, now that I really look at it. Adorable, but kinda unnecessary. If they don't bring her back in the later MCU, she was used for an emotional response following Tony's death. And honestly, I feel they glossed over Tony's sadness for Peter being gone by wedging her in there. And... how is it fair for his daughter that he gets killed off when she's 5? Idk.

Natasha dying. Natasha dying that way, honestly, Natasha dying at all. And how they couldn't bury her. And don't even get me going about the new Guardians of the Galaxy, SPOILER: and how they managed to bring Gamora back? Who died EXACTLY the way Natasha did. The team needed her.

The hulk. Enough said.

Making Thors depression into a big joke. Making his alcohol abuse into a big joke. Glossing over how he legit lost EVERYTHING. Really bothers me. Bothered me then and bothers me more now.

Howard. Stark. Look...idgaf what the movie tries to push, Howard was a bad dad. He neglected Tony, gave him negative attention, always made him feel inferior and never showed him any affection whatsoever. And they want me to believe that what? He held him in this high regard and loved him more than anything? Yeah, no. I don't.

Would have enjoyed seeing more of how the blip affected everyday life.

More scenes with the Avengers rebonding.

Pepper should've gone in the snap. Yep, I said it. And it corresponds mostly with the bullet above here..⬆️ We deserved to see Tony bond more with his team, wish we could've seen him discover time travel with them. Instead it was randomly at home? Ok then.

Tony's death. But I know why it happened :(

Steve's ending. I could write a dissertation about how ooc that was for him, but I won't. Hated it for Steve, hated it for Peggy and found it rather creepy. You kissed that woman once, never dated her, and you go back in time to be with her? Not knowing if it'll even work out? No. That's ridiculous. And you leave Bucky and Sam behind? After all that crap in CW, you leave them behind? Nah. Boo on you, Steve. And man, the Russos reasoning regarding this end is the BIGGEST mindfuck ever.

What exactly HAPPENED to Steve? Did he die in the falcon show? I thought he was a super soldier? How the hell long was he in the past? He looked 75 years old, but Bucky looks 30? I don't get it. It's like the biology of the serum was reworked for this. 🤐 And done badly.

I guess Daniel Sousa is obsolete, huh? The man who actually had time to get to know and love Peggy? 🤷‍♀️ guess so...

That's all I can think about right now... but yeah, Endgame leaves me really depressed because I feel everything after has been subpar regarding the MCU franchise.

It could've been so much better...

[pomegranatecrab]

A little fic about tony with a menace cat that is only nice to him:) with some stony of course

The rest of the Avengers move in soon after Steve does, filling the mansion with a range of personalities. Jarvis is unphased by the variety of character, and soon bans Hawkeye from the stove, which Steve thinks only encourages the build up of empty pizza boxes.

He’s eating his breakfast outside, savouring the taste of eggs, the salty richness of bacon and the odd texture of mushrooms, something he’d never tasted before. The silence is odd. There should be bare feeding slapping down the dilapidated road, children ready for the long walk to the library or the corner store, walks Steve usually couldn’t make.

Tony Stark’s mansion boasted a large garden, impeccably maintained and secluded from the bustle of New York. Cobbled paths coil around the large expanse of grass, weaving through beds of flowers, ending at the gazebo that Steve sits in. It overlooks a small pond, home to some brightly coloured fish that had flocked to the surface the moment he stepped onto the platform.

Steve’s watching the orange one he’d dubbed ‘Monocle’ when he notices them.

A pair of his socks, filled with suspicious holes, floating amongst the reeds.

He sighs, scraping his chair as he stands, and is glad that he’s at least tall enough to scoop them out of the water easily, plucking the drenched fabric between two fingers.

There’s a familiar jingle behind him.

Palug jumps elegantly from the stairs onto the table, nose twitching over the bacon. She snaps it up between her teeth, hops onto the chair and politely chews on her prize.

Steve scowls at the cat.

“You-”

“Steve!”

Steve straightens, pretending like he hadn’t been about to engage in a petty squabble with a spoiled house cat.

“Mr Stark.”

Mr Stark waves a hand, rolling on the balls of his feet as he looks around, darting small glances at his face, before settling on Palug.

“Tony is fine, please.” He holds out the book in his hand, faded and worn. “Iron Man mentioned you were interested in this?”

It was a copy of The Gift of the Magi, a thin book with a painting of a woman with long, gorgeous hair on the cover. Belatedly, Steve realises this is the book Iron Man had recommended.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way for me. Thank you.”

Tony smiles. He steps forward to rub a hand over Palug’s back, inciting a heavy litany of purring.

“I first read that at school. The librarian let me take out double the amount of books usually allowed. I’d take them all down to this big tree right on the edge of the school grounds and read until curfew.”

Steve runs a thumb over the wrinkled lines marring the illustration, yellow cracks that web across the fine paper.

“She must have liked you,” he murmurs.

“She said I was the only boy that didn’t carry on like an imbecile,” Tony grins, “high compliments.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, stepping stiffly around Palug, who still gazed at him with beady eyes, despite the content rumbling bubbling from her chest.

He all but books it back to his bedroom.

—-

Steve reads the Gift of the Magi twice and thinks about his old life each time.

He’s jealous, really, that these characters got to make their sacrifices and come back to each other.

But Iron Man had been right. He did like it, and it’s on the third read that he notices the library loan card at the back.

‘Tony Stark’ is etched in careful handwriting in every single box, the dates all varying.

At the bottom a loopy scrawl had been left in black ink.

Mr Stark, you’re the only boy in school who checks this book out. It’s yours. Enjoy your summer.

Mrs Rembly

Steve’s lips twitch.

It’s a bit backhanded, but thoughtful.