heya, i go by ink (they/them). welcome to this clusterfuck of a blog. i basically exclusively post abt gay traumatized mcu men and i don't see that changing anytime soon so if that's your cup of tea, feel free to stick around (:
tags (most are self explanatory)
art - ink draws
writing (very very occasional) - ink writes
talking into the void - ink rambles
asks - ask
things i revisit - fav
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ironstrange
ironstrange week (2023)
this should go without saying but do not repost or use my work without permission (also, ai art is an immediate block from me).
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hmmmmmmm... Your blog probably tastes like confetti cake that smells like pine. 🤔 (idk... im bad at describing things...)
@utterlybrainwrecked (i wanna know what you think my blog tastes like too >:-O) @fubaoub @nobueno7 @rainbow-woerm ... I hope you don't mind.... + open tags!!!!!
The first thing that comes to mind is lavender tea. Probably just from your pfp colors.
J is buttered popcorn with cheese.
Tagging @darkkitty1208 (and I know you’re a tea person, but your blog is coffee to me. A tolerable and actually good coffee with LOTS of chocolate syrup so that the sugar rush does more than the caffeine)
And @janora00 (circus cookies. The animal crackers with frosting and sprinkles.)
To me your blog is like, cotton candy. Very sweet cotton candy. The one that's literally just sugar. And if confetti had a taste it'd be your blog, probably.
Tagging @hithertoundreamtof23 (your blog tastes like ink on pages. Like, literal fresh pages out of a new book. Yeah I tasted it as a kid.) @iamhavingamomenthere-crowley (Soft, freshly-baked bread. The kind that's still warm off the oven :D) @inklver (Your blog tastes like honey, I think? Or buttered toast. Something warm because you're my sun ;) ) @j-snapdragon (mint candy. XD No clue why, you're just minty. Not the sharp kind, just enough to be refreshing.) and anyone who wants to jump in the bandwagon!
first thing that comes to mind for your blog is chocolate lava cake i think :] smth warm but not overwhelmingly sweet (bc you really make sure the hurt isnt left out of the hurt/comfort /pos)
The past few weeks before I finally returned from my unofficial hiatus, I've lost a lot of my motivation to write and anything to do with being part of the fandom as a whole. I contemplated quitting and never returning again, deleting all my works and socials and any other trace of me anyone could find, but I know that it's just the anxiety talking and my brain playing tricks with me due to IRL stress and that logically, I *do* have a place here in the fandom space. So I held back.
Now that I'm here again -- and have been welcomed very warmly by dear friends -- the urge to create has finally come around again and I want to get back into writing. It's just that, god, I feel very rusty. It's been quite a while and I feel like the words have run away from me after not using them for so long. I look into my mostly-abandoned WIPs and I can't find the right way to continue them.
But despite that, I decided to do a bit of the good ol' self-projecting and started a WIP (instead of finishing my old ones, lol). It's not much, but it's something. I felt compelled to share in hopes it would motivate me to write some more. This is all I've got so far, and it is admittedly very rough, but it's getting there.
~
Here’s the thing: healing isn't linear.
These are words repeated over and over again by those who you wouldn't think ever even had to heal. They're the kind of words that would lose its meaning the more they're said, and have you start wondering if to some people, they ever had any sort of meaning to begin with.
You can never really tell where it starts or where it finishes, or how it happened or if it ever did happen, the same way the flawed five stages of grief could never explain the true act of mourning and the same way your every emotion defies anything your logic could ever tell you.
Sometimes, Stephen finds, some things are just unexplainable like that.
Sometimes, Stephen doesn't think he's capable of healing. Sometimes, especially in nights where every bit of his sanity starts to fall apart and each choking breath would sting as it enters his damned lungs, he thinks he's too far gone to be capable of it at all.
(Sometimes he would sit silently and stare into nothing, thinking about the way nobody would understand that at some point in his life, he wasn't the man he used to be anymore. Sometimes he could feel it, the thing that consumed him, that took away who he was, and the way it would take up every space in his ribcage and burn his insides like acid, the way it would rip apart the space in his chest where his heart used to be. Sometimes he would think about it, and the way that it makes him nothing but an empty shell of a man. Every day that thing would grow inside of him and one day, it might ruin him; as if he isn't already far too broken to begin with.)
But it's here, in the roof of a sentient building he's grown to call his home where various pots are neatly arranged in small shelves, with his trembling fingers digging into rich soil and dirt sticking underneath his fingernails, that he starts to find proof that maybe, he had the capability after all.
It's here that he understands why humans would pick up a trowel and spend so much time getting on their hands and knees to dirty themselves with grimes of dirt.
There's something about the green of the Earth and the smell of her moist dirt in the early mornings, damp from the moon's tears, that soothes a part of him that he couldn't quite identify. There's something comforting about the mindless action of digging and burying and placing and watering. There's something comforting about knowing that his damaged fingers could sprout life even if it all depended on time.
But that's the thing, isn't it? Everything is just a matter of time.
(Sometimes he wishes healing isn't linear, the way he wishes time doesn't march on an ascending line.)
He remembers the same damp smell of moss and the same smudges of dirt on the knees of his trousers back then, the first time he was taught about gardening and farming and sprouting life from seeds.
He had still been a small boy in Nebraska, back then. He had been young, and he had never understood patience the way he does now. He didn't understand that what he planted was something that, if anything, was considered a miracle, and that miracles took time, and that miracles don't last forever. He didn't understand that life and decay is just a matter of time, and that everything including himself would eventually be nothing but rotting flesh and cracked bones, becoming one with the earth and consumed by the maggots and mushrooms.
Because that's the thing: everything is just a matter of time.
The experience had meant nothing to him then, and had taught him nothing much of anything at all, but it means something to him now.
Hiii! Hope you'll have a great new year! :)
I had this dialogue idea for a prompt stuck in my head:
“I’m keeping my eye on you.” - “I’m flattered.”
It's perfect for IronStrange :)
I did have a good new year, thank you! Honestly, things have been getting steadily better in my life the last month or so thanks to a change I made that I unfortunately can’t go into detail about online. I hope you are also doing well! I agree, this is an excellent IronStrange prompt. 😀
This is a no-Thanos AU, because it felt more fun. 😀
-
Tony’s first encounter with Doctor Strange—not that he knows his name at the time—is when he’s chasing a strictly C-list low life and the guy runs flat out into a glowing orange wall and bounces right back into Tony’s gauntlets. FRIDAY quickly directs his attention to a man in blue and red robes who waves, smirks, and disappears through a portal.
He does it again, except with a crimson lasso type thing, two weeks later. The third time, he turns the tide in a three on one fight and disappears through a portal immediately afterward. “I don’t need your help, you know!” Tony shouts after him. He gets a jaunty wave in return.
FRIDAY identifies him on the third encounter, which only puts Tony’s hackles up more. What the hell is a neurosurgeon doing throwing around glowing walls and portals?
Strange doesn’t only show himself around Tony. FRIDAY’s tracking him now, and he pops up all over the place, although, for some reason, FRIDAY usually only catches the ends of his battles.
The first time they talk, Tony and Rhodey are chasing a guy in a frankly insultingly shitty knock off Iron Man suit through Manhattan airspace when he’s surrounded by an orange flash of light and starts falling like a rock. They have to dive to catch up and when the three of them finally settle into a hover to catch their breath, Strange is there with them. He’s infuriatingly elegant floating there, his cape flaring in the wind.
Tony glares. “What the hell, Strange! You could have killed him!”
“And here I was expecting a thank you,” Strange says dryly. His voice is deeper than Tony expected. “Relax. If you hadn’t caught him, I would have.”
“So why didn’t you catch him in the first place?”
“Considering the—” Strange waves at the shitty armor “—infringement, I thought you might want to be able to tell people you caught him yourself.”
“I did catch him,” Tony snaps. “Magic or no magic.”
“You see?” Strange waves at him. “It was important to you!”
Tony grinds his teeth. “I’m keeping my eye on you.”
“Why, Mr. Stark,” Strange just about flutters his eyelashes. “I’m flattered.”
“Because I don’t trust you!” Tony sputters.
“Whatever excuse you need to enjoy the show!” Strange says, and gives him a little wave as he disappears through one of his portals.
Tony is still fuming when Rhodey chuckles. “What?!”
“It’s kind of fun to see you get a taste of your own medicine,” Rhodey says.
Oh, that is not okay. “He is an asshole who is driving me crazy.”
“Sure he is,” Rhodey says, still laughing. “All kinds of crazy.”
“You are not my friend anymore,” Tony announces, which only makes Rhodey laugh harder as they descend from the sky. Tony scowls. There is only one kind of crazy going on here, he promises himself.
Stephen glanced up at his boyfriend, immediately suspicious. “What did you do?”
Tony placed a hand to his heart in a gesture clearly calculated to express innocence. “Absolutely nothing.”
Stephen didn’t believe it for a second, the gesture was far too calculated, for one. For the other, while Stephen knew without a doubt that Tony loved him, he didn’t tend toward vocal expressions, preferring the method of ‘show, don’t tell’ that occasionally resulted in ostentatious displays that Stephen found reluctantly endearing. “Then why do I not believe you?”
“You don’t believe I love you?” Tony asked, sounding genuinely offended.
Stephen waved his hand in dismissal. “Oh, I know you love me. What I don’t believe is that you didn’t do anything.” There was a flicker in Tony’s eyes that only served to reinforce Stephen’s belief that Tony had done something he wasn’t supposed to do.
“Your lack of faith is hurtful,” Tony said, miming a dagger to the heart. “It’s like you don’t love me.”
Stephen raised an eyebrow. “I love you. I just also happen to know you.”
A smile tugged at Tony’s lips, and Stephen knew that it was something Tony was never going to get tired of: the fact that Stephen knew him and loved him anyways.
At least that was how Tony saw it, even if Stephen thought it was more astounding that anyone could know Tony and not love him.
“So,” Stephen continued, not letting himself get distracted. “What did you do?”
Tony sighed, the sort of sigh that meant he was giving in to the inevitable. “Nothing bad.”
Stephen examined him for a moment before deciding that it was probably true, at least from Tony’s point of view. Sometimes they had differing ideas of what constituted as ‘bad’.
“Expound, please. I think I’m perhaps a slightly better judge of whether something is ‘bad’ or not.”
Tony gave a sort of half-hearted shrug. “I, uh, may have gotten your cloak addicted to laundry detergent?”
Stephen blinked. “What?”
“I may have gotten your cloak addicted to laundry detergent,” Tony repeated, as though the words were going to suddenly make sense just because Tony had said them again.
They didn’t.
“How did you get the cloak addicted to laundry detergent?” Stephen asked. “They’re self-cleansing. It’s part of the enchantments woven into their being.” He glanced at where the cloak was suddenly busy ‘perusing’ the shelves of the library, playing innocent.
Stephen had a bad feeling about this.
“It’s not my fault,” Tony defended, despite the fact that he still hadn’t explained just how he’d managed it. “The cloak was getting jealous! I was just trying to make things fair!”
“Jealous?”
Tony nodded. “The cloak saw me oiling DUM-E and U and wanted their own ‘bonding’ time.” Tony made a face. “Okay, so the cloak probably doesn’t actually care about bonding with me, but they are an attention hog, and they’re willing to pretend they want to bond with me if it means I’ll pay them attention.”
The cloak fluffed up a little in offense.
It was true, though. The cloak loved when they were the center of attention.
Stephen thought it probably was very telling that the cloak had chosen to bond with him. He was well aware of what people thought of Stephen’s own attention-seeking tendencies.
“And that ended with laundry detergent addiction how?” He narrowed his eyes at the cloak who, now that they were being judged, had decided that the books looked interesting again.
Stephen turned back to Tony.
“Well, we tried a few things. Then I found an expensive hand-wash detergent.”
Stephen just stared at him. From the corner of his eye he saw the cloak wiggle in delight.
Tony shrugged.
Stephen decided that it didn’t matter if the cloak was his, Tony was the one who was going to have to deal with this. Stephen wasn’t paid enough to. “You know what. You got them addicted, you have to deal with their cravings.”
Tony made a face. “Fine. But I’m restating it for the record, this really isn’t my fault. And anything that happens here on out is happening with your knowledge and permission. Isn’t that right, cloak?”
The cloak flew over so that they were between Tony and Stephen and nodded vigorously.
For a moment, Stephen doubted his choice to make this Tony’s problem. Then he considered having to deal with it on his own and decided that tomorrow’s problems were just that: tomorrow’s problems.
“Only you,” Stephen said. His tone came out more fondly amused than exasperated, which was only going to serve to encourage Tony in the long run. “Only you would get an ancient relic addicted to laundry detergent.”
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Characters: Tony Stark, Stephen Strange, Obadiah Stane, Bats the Dog, JARVIS
Additional tags: Alternate Universe, Pre-Canon, Pre-Movie: Iron Man (2008), Pre-Movie: Doctor Strange (2016), Surgeon Stephen Strange, POV Stephen Strange, POV Tony Stark, POV Alternating, From Sex to Love, Past Christine Palmer/Stephen Strange, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Idiots in Love, Denial of Feelings, Stephen Strange is Bad at Feelings, Tony Stark is Bad at Feelings, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Explicit, Bisexual Stephen Strange, Bisexual Tony Stark, Kissing, Soft Tony Stark, Marriage Proposal, Mentioned James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Established Relationship, Insomniac Tony Stark, Homophobia, Evil Obadiah Stane, Angry Tony Stark, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Cocky Tony Stark, Soft Stephen Strange, Not Canon Compliant, Weddings, Honeymoon, Fluff, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: complete
Words: 7k
Summary: Tony and Stephen have been keeping things casual between them for a couple of years and everything is going just fine... until Tony proposes and Stephen is forced to confront the feelings he's been denying all this time.
Read on:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Ironstrange prompt: During an interview Tony is asked about his relationship with Dr Strange. Tony..didn't know he was in one?
Tony has been making the rounds of the evening talk shows lately; press conferences are necessary, but they’re really only the very early start of good PR. He’s done enough talk shows to know the flow of them, and they’re coming up on the personal life part of the interview, so he’s relaxed and ready with the usual answer (“You think I have time to date these days?” with a laugh) when the woman interviewing him—Annette—smiles, leans in confidentially, and says, “So how are things going with the new beau?”
“Pardon?” Tony says, still outwardly relaxed even as his mind races. That’s not how this should have started.
“Oh, don't play coy!” Annette says, giving him a playful knee slap. “You’ve been photographed more with Doctor Strange in the past month than in three months with Pepper Potts, even at the height of that relationship.” She gestures to the screen behind him, where some production assistant has put up a collage of Tony and Stephen.
Tony turns to look, more to buy time than anything else, but finds his attention captured by the photos anyway. He doesn’t remember standing so close to Stephen, or smiling at him so warmly. No fewer than four dinners at fancy restaurants are pictured. Stephen, meanwhile, is resting his hand on Tony’s back or hip in at least half the pictures.
“I can understand wanting to let things settle before you talk about it,” the interviewer goes on, “but surely the time has come?” She smiles at him hopefully.
Tony can’t just deny it. Even if he and Stephen aren’t dating, straight denials look like lies in circumstances like this. But on top of that, Tony is now kind of wondering if they are dating. Those pictures are pretty suggestive, on both sides, and god knows Tony isn’t the savviest guy when it comes to emotions. “Come on, Annette,” he chides her, but in a friendly way. “I can’t answer that question without talking to Stephen.”
She heaves an exaggerated disappointed sigh and moves on. Tony is barely paying attention, rattling off canned answers with practiced ease. Mostly, he’s wondering how Stephen will react to the essentially uncontested assertion that they’re together.
Stephen was currently sitting at Tony’s table, head buried in his arms, and a glass of Tony’s best alcohol—thus far untouched, but it looked like a matter of time—resting next to him.
“Oh, it was bad.”
Or at least that was what Tony thought Stephen said. The muffling nature of his current position made it difficult to be certain.
“Did you drop anyone through a portal?” Tony asked. Stephen had been asked—ordered—by Wong to give an interview with the press to help ease Kamar Taj’s transition into the spotlight. Stephen had not been a fan of the idea, but he was more used to publicity after the acclaim he’d had in the medical field than most of the other sorcerers.
Stephen lifted his head enough to glare at Tony. “No, Tony. I didn’t drop anyone through a portal.” The words came out scathing, as though Stephen couldn’t conceive of why Tony would assume such a thing from him.
Which, really, if Stephen didn’t want people to wonder if he was going to drop people through portals, he should stop talking about how much he wanted to drop the people that annoyed him through portals.
Simple logic, there.
“So, what’s the problem?” Tony asked as he came up to take the seat next to Stephen at the table.
“They asked me if we were a cult.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “I told you they would.”
“We’re not a cult! We’re not a high control, abusive group with a unified belief system that isolates its members from society!”
“I know,” Tony said calmly. “But people look at anything that’s different and try to demonize it. Calling it a cult was low-hanging fruit. I’m not surprised the press went for it. Did you rip them apart?”
“Excruciatingly.”
Tony nodded. “Good. They deserved it. So what’s with the whole…” He gestured at the cup of alcohol and Stephen’s general disposition. “That.”
“They asked me what I thought of the fact that I was a superhero fan favorite.”
Tony nodded. “You are, there’s some great art of you out there.” Tony was honestly thinking of hiring some of them. There was some serious talent out there.
Stephen actually smiled a little at that, but it faded quickly. “Then they asked me what I thought of the fact that you were a superhero fan favorite.”
“I am,” Tony said. It had actually taken Tony by surprise. He was used to the public loving to hate him. The public actually loving him? That was weird. “I hope you were very complimentary to me.”
Stephen made a so-so gesture. “I said I wasn’t surprised.”
Good enough for Tony. “So? I assume at some point this gets worse. That’s all pretty mild.”
Stephen sighed. “They asked me when we were getting married.”
Tony blinked at him. “As far as the press should know, we’re not even dating.” They’d been very careful about that, and Tony knew they hadn’t messed up. Between Stephen’s magic and Tony’s tech skills, there was absolutely no evidence to be found of the two of them.
Stephen nodded. “I know. I didn’t, apparently, properly express that they were barking up the wrong tree.”
“How did you express it?” The press could be very persnickety about word choice. It was far too easy to accidentally say something that they’d later dissect to mean something else entirely.
“I told them it wasn’t their business what was going on with the two of us.”
“Oh.” Not good. “That, Stephen, that’s like giving bloodhounds our scent. They’re going to take that as us having something to hide. You have, in one sentence, convinced everyone that we are in the midst of a torrid love affair.”
“So I have been made aware.”
Suddenly the alcohol made so much more sense. Tony sort of wanted some himself. Life was about to be so much more difficult than it needed to be.
There went their beloved secrecy.
“Did Kamar Taj at least get good press out of this?”
Stephen made a pained face. “Yes. Wong’s made me our official ‘Face of Public Relations’.”
“Was that because he actually thinks you’re the best for the job or because he’s enjoying making you suffer?” With Wong, it really could go either way.
“The second.” Stephen glared at him. “And it’s your fault. Wong said he hired those PR specialists you recommended him. Apparently, they think I’m ‘workable’.”
Tony laughed. “You poor soul.”
“Workable, Tony. That’s not even a compliment.”
It really wasn’t. “At least you’re going to stay a fan favorite?”
“I hate you.”
Tony gave him a condescending pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Stephen. It’ll get worse before it gets better.”
Stephen grabbed his glass of alcohol and downed it. “Oh, I really hate you.”
Tony grinned. “According to the press, you love me. Who do you think I’m going to believe?”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The IronStrange Winter Holidays Gift Exchange of 2023!!
This exchange will be a Secret Santa Event; the gifters will be unknown until they share their gift with their giftees during the posting time. You will find the schedule below.
The gifts that can be given are - fanfiction, fanart, gifsets, playlists, video edits, and photo edits.
Schedule
November 5th - Signups open
November 12th - Signups close
November 13/14th - Matches sent out
December 25th - Posting the gifts begins
Jan. 7th, 2024 - Final deadline for posting
Minimum Requirements
Fic - 900 words
Fanart - Finished piece, no matter how small
Photo edit - Finished piece, no matter how small
Video edit - 20 seconds
Playlist - 10 songs
Gifset - 3 gifs
If you have any questions, DM us on tumblr or on the server in the #questions-suggestions, and we will answer to the best of our abilities. (The fastest way is through the server.)
Small Reminders
If you have any questions, DM us here on tumblr or the server. (the invite link to the server will be pinned to the top of the blog)
You can do a polyship as long as IronStrange is part of said polyship
YOU CAN DROP OUT ANYTIME, BUT PLEASE DM A MOD/ADMIN SO THAT WE CAN ASSIGN A PINCH-HITTER FOR YOUR PERSON
Sign Up Form
Schedule
November 5th - Signups open
November 12th - Signups close
November 13/14th - Matches sent out
December 25th - Posting the gifts be
