#tony answers things

[officialtangredi]

What's your favorite bug fact?

Queen honey bees are created when worker bees feed a single female larva an exclusive diet of a food called royal jelly. They're produced in oversized cells and they develop in 16 days and that's just!!! Crazy to me!!!

Not only is she larger than the worker bees (all females, btw!!), she also has a functional set of ovaries, and then also something called a spermatheca, which stores sperm after she mates, which is!! Really fucking wild!!!

Also all drone honeybees are males!!

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Solstice, Shana! more Lady Mo or something else genderbendy?

Tony's spent her whole life proving she was good enough to make it in a man's world. Her own father had written her off as a debutante, but he'd let her spend time in his workshop and look over the papers spread over his desk, on his lap or a safe distance away from all the sparks. He probably thought she liked the pictures and the lights.

She builds an engine when she's six years old, her dress torn and stained with grease and and burning with pride as she grins up at her father.

It's the first time Howard ever sees her and, she thinks, when he stops loving her.

Existing in a man's world is different than being a man. She's not allowed to forget, to indulge, she can't ever be anything else any other way than a performance.

Her whole life is a performance, so maybe there's no real difference.

She can wear broad silhouettes and make sure no one calls her Antonia and keep her hair in it's iconic pixie cut have her employees call her sir - ma'am was her mother, she says with a laugh, and god knows she took more after daddy dearest - and she spends so much of her time having dick measuring contests with generals and business rivals and every man that thinks he can put his hands on her that sometimes it's a shock to remember she doesn't have one of her own.

It's not that she doesn't like being a girl, that she doesn't get a thrill out of outrageous dresses and all her soft curves, that she doesn't like at least seeing something of her mother in her mouth and her nose.

It's just that she thinks that she could be something more. That she is something more.

But that sort of things belong to someone who doesn't have her life, her job and her responsibilities and the eyes of the world watching her every move.

~

She doesn't even think about the fact that the armor is a man, narrow hips and broad shoulders and nothing feminine about his cold curves of metal, until Pepper sees it.

Pepper is quiet after, pressing ice to her bruises as she sits by Tony's hips. Her eyes stray to the arc reactor, a diamond of light glowing between her breasts. A circle would have been a more solid matrix but would have required her to get a mastectomy to make it fit.

She's thought about having a smooth chest before, but in the moment when it was an option that she could reasonably provide to the public - a medical device, for her health - she'd balked, and lost a day to redesign to make it something less, something that would fit and not require her to change to too much.

It had felt like a metaphor, or a sermon, as she'd beat sheets of metal until she bled.

Pepper asks, "Is it to protect your identity? So they don't think it's you?"

Tony stares, caught off guard, her mouth open in answer that she hesitates to give because she knows it's a lie. She doesn't like lying to Pepper.

She softens. "Or is it the opposite?"

Tony is sore and exhausted and Obie is acting strangely and Rhodey isn't talking to her (he calls her and he'll call again and again until she picks up, but he won't say a word, will just listen to her breathe to make sure she still is and then hang up like a fucking a coward) and she just killed sort of a lot of people and her weapons are where they shouldn't be and every defense she's built up around this question feels like it's crumbling around her.

"Pepper," she says, then can't bring herself to say anything else.

She doesn't want to lie to her.

"I like the paint job," Pepper says, hand soft where it's gripping her shoulder. Tony hasn't had soft hands since her father loved her.

"I like red," Tony says and Pepper's cheeks turn the same color as her hair.

[kayvsworld]

every time i see someone trying to label specifically what tony’s mental health situation is or isn’t i pour one out for natasha romanoff who entered the ring at the worst possible moment (he’s dying he’s got heavy metal poisoning he’s actively lying to everyone around him he’s very recently traumatized) under orders from her boss to decide, definitely, on paper what mentally is going on with this man. like girl you are not qualified

[xxplastic-cubexx]

this cliff took more lives than i could on my own im losing it

[riotwritesthings]

Hiii yellow or turquoise from the lovely pan flag If you want to <3

this is so dumb idk, I lost all control please enjoy

Fluttering Yellow and Turquoise

WinterIron - T, 1.8k - Crack, Banter

-

Tony blinks his way to consciousness and finds that he’s staring up at the warm glow of sunlight through a thick canopy of leaves.

“Ew,” he says, “why am I in a forest?”

The last thing he remembers is some kind of strange energy surging through the tower, the lights flickering and his hair standing on end, and then-

He woke up here. Tony really wishes he was more surprised.

“It’s always a portal,” he sighs as he climbs to his feet, brushing leaves and twigs from his clothes. “I better not be the only one who got caught up in this bullshit,” he grumbles, looking around.

He’s surrounded by massive trees, thick underbrush, and he doesn’t know nearly enough about plants to have a hope of figuring out where he is. He also doesn’t see anyone else around, and worst of all, the portal just had to scoop him up in the middle of getting dressed. He can already feel all the bugs coming for his bare chest and the countless parasites digging their way into his bare feet. Awesome.

After a couple seconds of mental debate, he decides to hell with the risk and shouts, "Hello?! Anyone else here? Even a rude portal-creator, maybe?"

The only reply is the soft rustle of leaves above him and the drone of insects.

“Rude,” he mutters, “they could have at least been around to pick a fight or something after magicking me here.”

He looks around again, but every direction looks the same, just trees and bushes and more trees. He’ll have to just pick a direction at random if he wants to go looking for… anything. He’s also pretty sure that the general rule is to not move when lost, but does it really count as lost when he’s been transported here against his will? And then just left alone to be eaten by insects?

“Ugh,” he groans as he swats at a bug that’s hovering around the light of the arc reactor, "this is why I hate magic. And anything even magic related, it all sucks."

From above him comes a chuckle, then a pained groan, and Tony whips his head up to find Bucky tangled in vines and dangling from thick tree branches about thirty feet above him.

“Oh hey,” Tony calls in greeting, “the portal got you too?”

“Looks like,” Bucky sighs, then starts to struggle against the vines and only accomplishes making himself swing and sway in place. “Why don’t I get to be on the ground?” He groans as he stills again.

“The portal likes me more I guess,” Tony says with a shrug, then wrinkles his nose and adds, “I’m not actually sure I’m happy about that.”

“Least you didn’ have to fall through th’ canopy,” Bucky grumbles, just loud enough for Tony to hear.

"Ooh, look who knows his forest terms," Tony says and then laughs as Bucky starts struggling uselessly again. “Do you not have a knife to cut yourself free?!”

Bucky stops wiggling to glare at him, and then reluctantly admits, “I don’t have one on me.”

“What?” Tony demands with another laugh, temporarily distracted from his anger at the mysterious portal, “Who even are you?!”

“Ha ha,” Bucky says dryly, “You know Sam won’t let me spar with concealed weapons anymore.”

“We’ve all heard the argument,” Tony says with a roll of his eyes, “One time he breaks his toes kicking you in the boot knife, and he’ll never let it go.” A thought occurs to him and he looks around the thick forest again as he asks, “So you were with Sam when the magic hit? I guess step one is figuring out if anyone else has been personally victimized by teleportation.”

"Step one should be you get up here an’ help me," Bucky says grumpily.

“Bold of you to assume I have a knife,” Tony says, “I don’t even have a shirt.” He swats at the bugs buzzing around his chest again and then starts eyeing the trunks of the trees that Bucky is tangled in, trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to do this.

The thick vines wrapped around everything give him hand-holds at least, so Tony grits his teeth and starts climbing. It’s a slow process, the air is thick with humidity, making everything slick and his bare feet slip off of the vines as he tries to make his way up. He’s pretty sure he can feel Bucky getting more and more impatient, and when Tony pauses to glance up he also feels pretty damn impatient about how little progress he’s made.

“Is this a bad time to mention I’ve never climbed a tree?” Tony asks sheepishly, risking letting go of the vines with one hand so he can wipe sweat from his forehead.

“Nah, seems pretty relevant,” Bucky replies, and it looks a lot like he’s trying to fight down a smile, “fair warning, if you fall I am gonna laugh.”

“Great encouragement,” Tony grumbles and returns his attention to climbing.

He has a couple of close calls, but he doesn’t actually fall to his probable death and manages to make his way up to where Bucky is dangling with minimum embarrassment.

“Wow, you are really tangled in here,” he says once he gets a look at how thoroughly Bucky is wrapped in vines and covered with loose leaves.

“Thanks, I hadn’ noticed,” Bucky says, his voice as dry as the desert, and Tony almost loses his hold when he can’t help but laugh.

“Stop,” Tony says, “this is gonna be the most dangerous part, don’t make me laugh. I might fall, I might cut you instead of the vines, who knows, anything could happen.” As expected, he nearly loses his balance trying to wiggle out the knife that, thank fuck, is still in the front pocket of his jeans, and Tony quickly adjusts his position so he can wrap his legs tightly around a sturdy branch. “Pole dance lessons, don’t fail me now,” he mutters under his breath, but apparently Bucky catches it.

“What?” He asks with a laugh.

“Nothing, you didn’t hear that,” Tony says quickly.

“I definitely did,” Bucky says, still laughing, “how has Rhodes never mentioned that in his ‘embarrassing Tony’ stories?”

"Because I threatened him with death," Tony hisses, “now stop laughing, I have a knife here.”

Bucky just grins at him, giving Tony’s admittedly small pocket knife a pointed look before his eyes go wide. “Is that the knife I gave you?” He asks, the teasing gone from his voice.

Tony looks at the knife thoughtfully even though he knows it is. It’s the only pocket knife he owns, because Bucky had gotten hilariously offended that he didn’t have one and had immediately pulled one out of his packet to all but force it into Tony’s hands.

“Impossible to say for sure,” Tony finally says dismissively, because it's that or admit he’s been carrying it pretty much constantly.

“Thought you weren’t gonna carry it,” Bucky says with a knowing grin that does dangerous things to Tony’s pulse.

“Shut up, I don’t know how it got in my pocket,” Tony grumbles, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks and pointedly turning his attention to cutting Bucky free. The knife is razor sharp, no doubt Bucky’s doing, and it makes quick work of the vines.

“Get my hands first,” Bucky requests, wiggling the only two fingers that apparently aren’t trapped, “I don’t wanna fall any more.”

“And here I was planning on dropping you right on your pretty face,” Tony sighs, then bites his tongue while Bucky laughs.

With each vine that he cuts through Bucky drops an inch or two, swaying in place, and every time he makes a barely audible sound that Tony is trying really hard not to laugh at. He cuts another vine and Bucky lets out a queasy groan as he drops a little further.

“Don’t throw up,” Tony pleads, and he’s only half joking.

“I do not like this,” Bucky groans and what Tony can see of his face is pale, “I changed my mind, jus’ drop me.”

“Didn’t Sam say you just- jumped out of a plane, once?” Tony has to ask as he starts slicing through the vines a little more haphazardly.

"Yeah, an’ I regretted it, but don‘t tell him that,” Bucky says with a weak huff of laughter, “‘sides, that’s different, a quick fall an’ its over. This is- ugh, jus’ hanging here- if this takes much longer I really might- Fuck!”

A bunch of the vines snap at once with a surprisingly loud sound and Bucky drops further, jerking and swearing loudly. Something catches the branch that Tony is clinging to, and he only has a split second to feel it tip with a deep groan before it breaks and Tony falls too. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to prepare himself for an abrupt meeting with the ground, but instead he feels familiar metal fingers wrap around his wrist before he comes to a sudden stop.

Tony dares to squint one eye open and finds that he’s still dangling about ten feet off the ground. The branch he was on has landed in a massive bush that Tony is very glad he’s not also in, because the leaves are rustling aggressively with the stirring of countless bugs.

“Do not drop me in the murder hornet nest,” Tony demands as he shoots a quick glance up at Bucky, who’s clinging to another branch with one hand and Tony with the other.

“It might not be anything murderous,” Bucky says, but he doesn’t sound very confident. He does tighten his grip around Tony’s wrist at least, even when Tony jerks with a yelp as an explosion of color bursts out of the bush.

“Don’t let them eat me,” Tony says in a panic, trying to pull himself up and climb Bucky’s arm as wings flutter all around him.

"Then stop moving," Bucky returns as they both swing wildly, and Tony reluctantly does.

“Oh,” he says when he finally stills enough to see the bugs, “it’s butterflies. Butterflies don’t eat people, right?”

“Pretty sure no,” Bucky replies with a snort.

Tony looks up at him again as the butterflies continue to swarm past them in a riot of yellow and turquoise wings, making their way up towards the sunlight. Bucky has a small grin on his face as he watches it, and when he notices Tony watching him he smiles wider.

“Not th’ worst time we’ve ever been victimized by magic, huh?” Bucky asks, and Tony doesn’t think he notices that a butterfly has landed on his head, slowly flapping its wings.

Tony has to swallow his heart back down where it belongs before he can grudgingly admit, “Maybe second worst.”

Bucky laughs, sending the butterfly flying again, and Tony can only smile back.

[kissproof]

BAD DOG

WARNINGS: fem!reader , mature themes , drug use mention , dom!reader

from the moment he stepped through the front door, you could hear him buzzing. another dirty deal, another drug, another late night at the club. it colored his footsteps, filled him with a drunken gaul. you could even see the twinkle in his eye that he hoped would be yours by the end of the night. and as he looked up at you, his goddess gleaming from the top of the staircase, he smiled with his biggest pride. he stumbled toward the stairs, goofily removing an arm from his sports jacket and shaking it off the other.

“pussycat,” he slurred, still moving. “bébé…”

“where’ve you been, tony?” your freshly painted nails, bloody red, twinkle under the kiss of your chandelier as you remove a hand from the banister and cross your arms defiantly.

“coming home to you, beautiful…” he takes another step, his manly hand grabbing hold of the stair’s marble rail. “coming-“

“ah!” you raise your finger, wagging it. he screeches to a halt in an instant, bent over now like you’d just taken his screw out of his back. his bright eyes went from joy to near embarrassment. “tony…” his name came out of your throat like a tsk, but sweeter. he tilts his head toward you, completely yours.

“what is it, my love? what did i do?”

your finger bends slowly down, the stiletto sharpness of your nail making a harsh pointed arrow.

“down,” you command. he lowers with a slow, but tantalized force, smiling at you.

from here he can see your high heels peaking out beneath your floor length robe. the pink fur hem waving sweetly just below your ankles. it didn’t take him long at all, only a split second, to begin to visualize all the more that was awaiting him and he bows his head to you. his desire revs in his pants like a motor, the rest of his body going hot as his knee meets the first step.

“such a bad dog…” you shake your head and he raises his, unable to deny his lust at the phrase. “come on now. come on, tony…” you coo, your fingers tangling to undo your robe’s laces like you were bracing for a collar and leash. he starts to pant for you, beginning to crawl like a near maniac, but you stop him instantly, your hand like a foot-slammed brake. “slow, puppy…” you draw out, every syllable wrapping around your lips like your favorite lipstick, “or you don’t get any…”

[aurumacadicus]

Tony walking his dog dum-e, who spots a pile of leaves on Steve's yard and dives in it, maybe? ~♡

Tony funds many animal shelters that he no longer enters because he ALWAYS walks out with an animal he can't take care of and has to rehome. (Dum-E will not allow himself to be rehomed.)

--

Tony had thought that moving out into the country would give Dum-E plenty of room to run around safely without supervision. Apparently, though, he'd gotten a dog with the world's worst case of abandonment issues, and every time he opened the door, Dum-E would give him the doggy equivalent of the pleading face emoji. The furthest he ever went was outside to do his business before he was whining back at the door.

So, now, Tony had to schlep him to the 'burbs for walks because he wasn't going to walk around the mud that was his property currently, and there were no sidewalks on the two-lane road leading to and from his house. On the bright side, he'd met a lot of neighbors who got concerned if he missed a day, which made him feel the safest he ever had. Also, kids were happy to see Dum-E, who was a very odd-looking dog as far as dogs go.

He decided that autumn was his favorite time to walk Dum-E. It was still warm enough he didn't need a heavy jacket and mittens, not hot enough that he needed to tote a bowl for water from the car (the neighbors very graciously let him fill from their hoses, especially when they saw that Dum-E was wearing special shoes so his paws wouldn't get burned), and the leaves turning was a beautiful backdrop to their walks. All the greens fading into yellows, oranges, and reds. If he had any artistic talent, he might start bringing a camera along with him.

"FUCK," Tony shouted as Dum-E suddenly tugged, all two hundred pounds of him dragging him forward, off the sidewalk, through someone's white picket fence. He tripped over a rake on the next step, losing his footing and falling face-first onto the grass. Dum-E's leash slipped from his wrist.

Dum-E plowed into the pile of leaves he'd been aiming for so fast that there wasn't more than a few scattered leaves. Tony just laid where he landed, too stunned to move, even to see if he was injured.

"...And that's why we don't rake our leaves between two and three," someone said, and Tony slowly raised his head, blinking in confusion, to find Natasha standing on the porch of the house next to a man who was, quite frankly, unfairly attractive, considering he looked that good even when he was gawking.

Tony gawked back, because what the fuck else could he do. He had no idea that everyone had avoided raking their leaves for his and Dum-E's safety after Dum-E had accidentally plowed into a leaf-covered hole that someone had meant to prank their friend with and sprained his leg. If he'd known, he would have offered to just pay for a service so no one was put out.

"Ow," he finally said, suddenly aware of the throbbing hot pain in the ankle he'd tripped over the rake with.

"Oh my god," the guy finally sputtered, dropping his water bottle and rushing down the steps to help him.

And that was how he met Steve Rogers. By breaking his ankle on a rake.

[tinystepsforward]

algerian trans women arent able to compete in women sports at all, but yeah its makes no sense to call khelif tme. youre so fucking smart.

(this is a response to this post) i see you don't believe that i'm quoting one of the trans women in my life about that, which is your prerogative. it's also your right to miss my point entirely both about the ways this alienates intersex people and about the rigidity of a binary that comes down to the same shrinking circles terfs draw when they try to quantify what a woman is (speak up for women, the most organised nz group, have now submitted on the human rights act suggesting that all babies be karyotyped at birth and the results be public, bc they can't establish any other definition they agree on. absolutely fucking nobody, not even their christian or conspiracist allies, agrees with them on this one.)

but you don't have to take my word for it! when i was at that consultation with the nz law commission, i was in a room with many other intersex and trans people, including trans athletes and trans women like lexie matheson who consult on trans inclusion in sports at a high national level. i don't think there's a single person in that room who did not name what was happening to khelif as we spoke as transmisogyny, who did not speak of her as part of a group with whom we all shared something.

at the end of the day, prison abolition informs all of my politics. i believe that we must look clearly and carefully at harm and distinguish it from discomfort or disagreement, and identify its structural sources and true perpetrators. i believe that to build a better future we must be capable of imagining one. i believe that we can build a world where suffering is not the metric by which we determine value or punishment or righteousness. i believe that we can build a world where we centre and uplift those who are most hurt, in every arena — black and brown trans women, here; in some of my other work, it's incarcerated intellectually disabled people, or asian migrant sex workers affected by section 19, the list goes on — without then pitting them against other people who share some of the same story and will benefit from the same deconstruction of the systems that hold them down. i believe we can build a world in which asab doesn't affect so much of your life by beginning that work now.

there's a politics of scarcity — you have it better than me, so we have nothing in common. i saw it all the time in brothels, the idea that the new girl is taking money out of your kids' mouths. the viciousness with which people who are struggling are so ready to abandon solidarity. is it so hard to demand better for everyone? to think less about the ways we're alone and more about the ways we're together?

maybe it is. i know that well enough as a prison abolitionist. people get scared. they swing at shadows, they swing at anyone who seems to be suffering less, they — we, i should say, i am certainly not immune — get blindingly jealous of people who seem to have it easier. that's grief! that's grief for the easier life that we deserve. and we get to mourn, and take that time to feel it, and then we can choose if we want to keep working hand in hand with each other toward a world where that grief is dwarfed by the promise of the future.

[sincetheducksleft]

I know it's good that the sopranos ended where it did, but god what I wouldn't give to see Melfi coping with Tony's death and finding a way to replace what his presence symbolized in her life

[spookythesillyfella]

LaLa : *gives Sketchbook like 2 gallons of blood* Here, take this and don't ask where I got it from :]

"Sketch, is this an appropriate time to–"

"Yes; it's a great time to start running,"

[idk-bruh-20]

IM2 thoughts

Hi! Today we're thinking about Tony's obvious, death wish ass behavior in Iron Man 2 (though to be fair to him, it's not like he wants to die, he just thinks he's gonna and acts accordingly) -- and why on earth Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy aren't more alarmed

Like, don't get me wrong, they're concerned! But they also don't freak the fuck out at Tony's myriad red flags? They see him go from IM1's grounded certainty to a reckless disregard for his own life, fatalistically courting chaos and pushing everyone who cares about him away. Literally 0 to 100 so fast. They worry, but they also roll with it.

These are Tony's people! Why is their reaction mostly just damage control? And that got me thinking... maybe it's because this behavior is familiar.

We know Tony's changed. But the world around him doesn't know like we know. Even his family sees him basically preparing for his own death and just assumes he's reverted back to the way he always was

That's why their response is so subdued. None of IM2's depression, abyss, suicidality, despair strike them as abnormal Tony behaviors.

[roguegreaser]

some1 said u have greaser ocs. Spill their lore pls

uuum GHUUULP. Chico! 🫱🫱 This guy just did the taper in low fade. Now That’s fire!

[gas-station-chai]

I cannot get over how after the cultists vanished, Jerry looked and WAITED for Jack immediately at his job site to find comfort. It's so sweet but also a little pathetic. T^T

YEAH YEAH YEAH!! I think about this scene ALL the time, like… Jacks been nothing but cold and unbothered by him since they met, but he’s still the first person Jerry thinks of going to when everyone else he cared about disappeared.

I love to overanalyze as to the reasons why; maybe it’s because out of all the employees Jerry usually sees, jacks a constant (and later becoming like a rock in his ever-changing/moving life on the run, his anchor that keeps him grounded). Or maybe he was just naturally drawn to that cold and grumpy personality because of his parental issues (an idea from @queertftgs), being on the run from them and all. Or maybe even the idea that Jerry was just used to taking advantage of Jack’s “kindness” (letting him get away with shoplifting, listening to his cult pitch, etc), so he knows Jack will comfort him if he just keeps pushing it like usual, right?

Got carried away there, but yeah LOL. All the cutsey headcanon stuff gets ruined when we remember how Jack described the whole scene of Jerry snot and tear faced as “pathetic and gross” (which is true, but cmon, dude).

[louisdotmp3]

steve rogers voice i can never go home

[los3rmonologuee]

i just wanna reblog u like “yk sMokInG Is BaD fOr YoU LiTtle cHilD!! 😾”

but like.

as a joke.

like a angry teacher yelling about how our generation is fucked.

but no one would get the joke and just think im actually intolerant.

so i stay quiet.

😔✊.

LMFAOOOO yah i don't get social cues so if you did that with no context my ass would tweak and go off on you bc IDGAF i'm 16 and learning to drive soon lemme smoke my weed 😪😪

(but with the context that is funny asf)

[tinystepsforward]

To your knowledge if the Midjourney deal (hypothetically) goes through, wouldn't it be training on massive amounts of copyright not only from smaller artists, but from large film and tv studios as well? It seems like a disaster waiting to happen beyond that even if the training is selective. If you don't know anything or unsure that's okay.

i don't think midjourney has ever cared that that's happening.