Feb. 27th, 2017

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It’s @musicalluna‘s bday! She asked for Tony patching Steve up while they chat and are domestic and sappy. I ended up with more sleepy than anything, but I hope you like it! Happy birthday! :D

About 1900 words, watch out for the cut!

“You should take better care of your skin,” Tony admonished from the bathroom. The light clicked off a moment later and he walked back into the room with the vintage first aid kit that Jan had given Steve as a gag on his last birthday. Steve had never used it himself, but it was packed with new “made to look vintage” packages of bandages, alcohol wipes, gauze rolls, and glass bottles of heavy duty pain killers.

Steve smiled at Tony’s bare feet under the trailing hem of a pair of Steve’s pajama pants, and then looked pointedly at the first aid kit. “You don’t need to do that, Tony. They’re just scratches. I’ll be healed in a couple days.”

“Shut up, and let me take care of you,” Tony advised sweetly. He knelt down between Steve’s feet and made himself comfortable. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t even give Steve a heated look and make a joke about being on his knees. He unpacked the first aid kit and arranged the items he needed in neat piles, and then pulled on a pair of blue nitrile gloves.

“I have a vested interest in keeping your skin in one piece,” Tony said, glancing up at Steve through his eyelashes. “It would be nice if you would try to help.”

He gently turned Steve’s arm over to examine the thick swathe of abrasions curling up his arm from the base of his palm to his elbow. Tiny pieces of gravel, glass, and asphalt were embedded in the scratches. Steve had planned to just climb into the shower and scrub them out with a loofa, but he’d found Tony sprawled out on his bed, and plans had changed. He was grimy and coated in sweat, dirt, and soot, but when Tony had ordered him to strip, now he hadn’t argued. So he was perched on the edge of his studio couch with his boyfriend kneeling between his knees and he wasn’t even getting any fun out of it.

Humming reproachfully, Tony levered himself up to his feet and crossed to the small kitchenette in the corner. He returned with a shallow plate, went back to his knees, and peeled the tweezers out of their sterile bag. Steve did his best to cover up any sounds of discomfort as Tony set to picking the largest slivers out of the gashes.

“What did you do?” Tony asked finally. When Steve had first walked in, he’d gone through the emergency questions: are you alright? Are you in immediate danger? Do I need to suit up? But hadn’t asked for another explanation as he was bustling about getting Steve water and grabbing the first aid kit. “I’m guessing by the placement of the scratches that you laid your bike down at least.”

Steve winced and used his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Yeah… it might need some of your first aid tomorrow too.”

Tony snorted. “I guessed as much. Run of the mill risking your life to avoid running over a family of quails on the road, or baddies shooting at you kind of situation?”

“There was a cat in the road,” Steve confessed. “I tried to find it after I crashed, but it was gone. I hope it’s alright. I don’t think I hit it.”

“Cats are resilient creatures,” Tony said, teasing out a long sliver of Steve’s headlight from his thigh. “Should we go look for it tomorrow?” he asked, glancing up again.

“You know me so well.” Steve leaned down and kissed the top of Tony’s head. He rested his forehead in the mess of Tony’s hair until Tony reached up and pushed him back so he could get to the scrapes on Steve’s ribs.

Tony finished picking the largest pieces out, and then held the plate of shards up and rattled it at Steve’s face. “Did you bring half the road home with you?”

“Considerably less than half,” Steve said, and then added, “Maybe twelve percent.”

Tony groaned. “That will never die,” he complained, but set the plate out of the way, pulled the gloves off, and held his hands out to help Steve up. “Come on. The rest will come out in the shower.”

Steve resisted saying finally! but only just. He took Tony’s offered hands and stood up slowly. The muscles in his back had seized up while he’d cooled down on the couch, and his joints were stiff and achy. Tony watched him with a concerned frown, but he didn’t say anything – they’d watched each other hobble around after enough accidents and fights that they’d both gotten a pretty good handle on what was ‘normal’ stiffness, and what required the intervention of a wheelchair or a bridal carry. Steve had to admit that he wouldn’t really mind being carried just then, but he settled for slinging an arm around Tony’s shoulders and leaning into him under the pretense of kissing his temple.

“You take good care of me,” he said as they shuffled to the hotel sized bathroom. His apartment was really just a quiet escape that was mostly dedicated to his art, and occasionally used as a crash pad when it was closer than the tower. He hadn’t been looking for much by way of amenities when he’d bought the place, but sometimes he really missed the hot tub in Tony’s palatial bathroom.

Tony eased him out of his boxers while the shower groaned and hissed and generally complained about being used. It took a subjective eternity to heat up, so Steve just leaned his uninjured shoulder against the wall while Tony went back into the main room to pick up Steve’s motorcycle clothing and cluck at the tears in the fabric. Steve had a feeling that he would have an armored motorcycle suit within the week and chuckled in fond exasperation.

The water had reluctantly warmed by the time Tony made it back with a handful of soft, paint stained but clean cloths. He’d stripped out of his own clothes on the way back in, but didn’t even give Steve time to appreciate his nudity before nudging him under the water. He’d left one cloth on the edge of the sink and used the other to softly clean out the scrapes while Steve just luxuriated in the hot water. The cloth smelled like lavender detergent and dryer sheets and felt like clouds of marshmallows against his skin. He heard himself making happy noises as Tony brushed it along uninjured sections of skin and didn’t even try to stop.

Possibly the one amenity benefit of his tiny studio apartment was the giant hot water heater. Hot showers after disasters was one luxury he’d given himself permission to indulge in, and he’d never yet exhausted the hot water once it warmed it. Steve lost track of how long they’d been in the shower and was starting to drift off a bit by the time Tony was satisfied that the grit had been cleaned out of the scratches. He didn’t immediately flip the water off, but dropped the cloth and wrapped his arms around Steve’s chest.

Feeling warm and relaxed and comfortable, Steve leaned into Tony’s chest and reached up to hold on to his wrists. Tony set his forehead carefully to Steve’s neck and laid gentle kisses over his spine that traveled across his shoulders, and then turned to soft bites, and then darting, ticklish little licks.

“You are giving me gray hairs, Steve Rogers,” Tony murmured against his skin.

“You don’t have a single gray hair,” Steve argued back, curling his spine to encourage more kisses.

Tony laughed, but obliged him with a line of kisses from the nape of Steve’s neck to his right shoulder. “You can thank my hairstylist for that,” he said between soft presses of his lips. “Trust me, many grays. All of them have your name inscribed on the follicles.”

“I do like my name on things,” Steve hummed. He turned in Tony’s arms and ducked down to capture his lips. Tony tasted like sleep and the faintest memory of cinnamon toothpaste, and Steve was sure his mouth tasted like dirt and asphalt, but Tony didn’t complain. They kissed languidly with the hot water pouring down around them until Steve had to pull away to hide a yawn behind his hand.

“Let’s get you bandaged and into bed,” Tony suggested, but they stayed under the water for several more seconds, swaying, both of them about one long blink from falling asleep. Tony finally curled an arm around Steve’s hip and turned off the water. The benefit of a tiny bathroom was that the entire space had warmed up admirably under the steam, so it wasn’t an agony of cold air to climb out of the shallow tub and hunt for towels.

Despite his eyes being half-lidded, Tony insisted on drying Steve off with the remaining soft towels, and then bundled him up in a bathrobe, and got him back to the couch where the bandages were still sitting out. He knelt naked on the rug, put on another pair of gloves, and soaked cotton balls with peroxide to swab all the scrapes. It was uncomfortable, but Steve was still too warm and too sleepy to really care. The cotton balls disappeared into a paper bag that he would burn later – Tony was even more paranoid about anyone getting their hands on Steve’s blood than Steve was himself – and then he smeared antibiotic cream on large bandages and applied them to the worst of the scrapes.

Steve considered reminding him that the serum would do a better job of heading off infection than the Neosporin would, but he just leaned back against the couch and watched Tony work instead. It had been a long time since someone had taken care of him like this. He typically ended up in Medical for major injuries and got neatly patched back together by a detached professional, and he ignored minor injuries beyond making sure he was wearing clothing that covered them so he didn’t get blood on his sheets.

Tony had him slide out of the robe so he could get to the scratches on Steve’s back, and then tucked the soft fabric around him again, striped out of the gloves with elastic snaps, and carefully repacked the first aid kit. Steve thought about going to bed, but the further he got was turning his head to stare at it while Tony put everything away, sealed the bag of bloody cotton balls, shards of road debris, and gloves up in a plastic bag, and refilled Steve’s water glass.

“Come on,” Tony cajoled through a yawn, “You will regret falling asleep on the couch. Drink the water and let’s cuddle in the nice big bed instead.”

“Best offer I’ve had all night,” Steve said. He managed about half the glass of water and set it down when it felt like it was starting to slide out of his fingers. Tony hauled him off the couch and they weaved drunkly to the bed. He lost a couple seconds of time between one blink and the next, during which he’d apparently taken off the robe and gotten under the covers, and then another few seconds disappeared between getting his arm under his pillow and the light turning out.

“I am so making Rhodey help us find that cat tomorrow,” Tony mumbled. “He’s gonna love it.”

“Mmm,” Steve managed, and then said, “I love you.”

Tony kissed his neck and snuggled up tightly behind him. “I’ll remember that when we’re crawling through the underbrush looking for the cat.”

Steve meant to respond, but forgot to open his mouth, and the last thing he heard was I love you too before drifting off to sleep.
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This actually happened in some of the cartoons! I gasped out loud when I saw it for the first time. (Go to about 10 minutes in for the full scene.) I thought I’d do something a little different, because while I love Erik in the First Class movies, I always wanted a happier ending for him…

The Howling Commandos, as a forward team focused on Hydra, hadn’t liberated many camps; the ones they had were Hydra slave labor camps, where the men were, if not well-fed, then at least not the gaunt, barely-alive prisoners they’d heard about from Red Army soldiers and Allied units. 

This camp was different; at the heart of it was some kind of lab. When Steve battered down the last reinforced door, he found a man holding a gun to the head of a young boy. 

“I’ll kill him,” the man said. Steve didn’t bother with an answer; the shield took the man’s head off before he could threaten the kid again.  

Still, in that second before death, Steve had seen the man’s finger spasm on the trigger, and felt the thickness in the air when the trigger wouldn’t move. He looked at the boy, looked at the body, and had a sense of destiny resettling itself in the world. 

“Was he the camp commander?” he asked the boy, who nodded, huge-eyed. “Commander…Shaw?”

The boy nodded again. He turned and pulled Steve’s now bloody shield out of the concrete wall like it was nothing. Then, with narrowed eyes, he floated it across to him, through the air, without touching it. 

Steve took the shield out of the air, shook off what he could, put it on his back, and said, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the boy said, in trembling English.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Erik Lensherr.”

Steve had seen a lot of things in the war; nothing like this, but there had been signs of strange experiments in Hydra labs. This was comparatively harmless.

“Well, I’ll make you a deal, Erik,” he said. “I won’t tell what I saw here just now, and you help me close this place down. Then we’ll take you to HQ and get you a hot meal. Sound good?”

Erik nodded, then offered, “They knew you were coming. They destroyed all the records.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve said. “Come on.”

In the convoy, bringing the prisoners out of the camp, Steve brought Erik up to the cab of the lead truck, and put him in next to Bucky at the wheel.

“Who’s this?” Bucky asked.

“Erik,” Steve said. “He’s riding with us.”

“Sprichts du English?” Bucky asked. 

“Yes,” Erik replied. “I can speak. English, German, Yiddish, some Russian. Good interpreter. I can work for Allies?” 

“How old are ya?” Bucky asked.

“Sixteen,” Erik said. 

“You are twelve,” Bucky told him.

“I’m just small,” Erik replied.

“Yeah, because you’re twelve,” Bucky insisted. “Well, we’ll make sure the folks handling the refugees take good care of y – “

“No, he’s coming with us,” Steve said. 


“Erik’s coming with us to HQ. We could use an interpreter. And he’s small enough to make a good spy. He’s had enough of camps, ain’t ya, kid?” he asked, and Erik nodded. 

“You wanna join the allies, huh?” Bucky asked.

“I go with Captain America,” Erik announced. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said, and now I know better,” Bucky replied, but he was grinning. “Fine, on your own head be it. Sixteen my ass,” he said to Steve. 

Steve took off his helmet and plopped it onto Erik’s head. “Sorry, got a new sidekick now,” he told Bucky, who laughed. 

Years later, when a magazine asked Erik Lensherr why he agreed to become Captain America after the disappearance of Steve Rogers, he said, “Steve took a terrified twelve-year-old Jewish kid out of a slave labor camp, gave him a helmet, and told him he had power. I believed him. Turns out he was right.” 

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Like, I knew shepherding was a boring job

but these guys really had nothing better to do

some days i really love that humans exist

holy shit

ladies and gents, the welsh 

this is one of the few reasons I’m proud I was born in wales


My hobbies are meaningless.




If i don’t reblog this, assume I’m dead

Oh my fucking god. I didn’t know I needed this in my life until now.

Well now I know what I want to do when I retire.
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Sam, nu. We all know you + grappling hook = emergency room.

Truthfully me + literally anything Batman does = emergency room.

That said, I bet Bruce Wayne plays the ukulele. 

…..*goes off to draw*

(wow compression killed this)
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My Stony friend drew this tiny hippo AU Stony a few months ago. I think I need to post it because every time I saw this I just can’t stop laughing XD!!!!
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I don’t understand the point of biscotti. They’re like chewing on week old stale bread. Or rocks. Or stale rocks inside stale bread.
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For @musicalluna, whose birthday is today. I don’t know if you remember, but you requested this scenario from me your last birthday and then I was a very bad friend and never finished it. Here it is now. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Warnings: Panic attack, chemical attack, injury

Characters: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanova, background Clint/Natasha, background Steve/Tony

Nat is ten yards away when she sees six AIM agents swarm Steve at once and latch onto him as best they can. She knows better than most that holding Steve down is not an easy thing to do, but six men putting in their all at once is enough to slow him down, enough to give the last agent the opportunity to get in his face. Nat sees it happening but she’s too far away and she’s got her own two goons between her and Steve. She vaults and spins and hears a spine snap but by the time she’s recovered from her landing it’s too late. There’s gas in Steve’s mouth and nose and eyes and Nat screams. Tony and Bruce are screaming with her and a moment later, Hulk is tearing through the battlefield and ripping agents off of Steve.

Keep reading
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Feather Sculptures by Kate MccGwire

okay, looks like I’ve discovered my aesthetic


My gods… those are amazing. How does she get such an amazing smoothness with them?

Birds are SEVERELY underrepresented as a horror movie animal kingdom. Now if we were designing one of those Möbius strip looking things as some eldritch monster, we’d cover it in slime. Look how scary feathers can be.

They fall right into that “horror of the unnatural” thing from earlier.

Angels. That’s all I’m going to say. Let’s get this artist to design an angel. Then you’d see how fucking terrifying these things are.


@lovesexxdeath this reminds me of u somehow
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If you’re a blog that loves and defends Tony Stark, can you like show yourself so that I can follow you and have notifications on your post ?

You don’t have to be Tony-centred, I actually reblog stuff about pretty much everyone - Bucky, T'Challa, Steve, Natasha …- ! I just need some positive Tony vibes tho.

Seeing all these hate posts on him is starting to make me even more depressed than I already am.

I need some Tony love.

I am all about the Tony-love!

 As it says in my intro   “ overly invested in Anthony Edward Stark“ -  tho I post all sorts of junque on this blog.  
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This is actually really exciting??

#science #i don’t remotely understand this (via @ambientcrows)

Okay, that’s fine! You are actually not alone, I just fumbled through explaining this to some friends! I only just found this today so I may not be 100% accurate, if anyone knows better they can correct as needed!

Basically what the current theory of gravity (the theory of relativity) says is that gravity is a fundamental reaction. Gravity is what happens when spacetime curves around mass/energy- that curving causes two objects to move toward one another in space.

The problem is that the general theory of relativity doesn’t explain quantum physics. It cannot explain why the outside edges of galaxies goes zoom in ways they should not, unless there is an unknown factor. Until now, Science was like okay, what if Dark Matter and Dark Energy are a thing, where Dark Energy is what causes the universe to expand and Dark Matter is matter we can’t see, and actually haven’t even proved exists yet. Like, we’re literally making that shit up because nothing else we had made sense, and assuming that Dark Matter exists and is affected by gravity in ways which would explain the zoom allowed us to move on with theorizing things. Which was fine.

But then this guy, Erik Verlinde, comes along and is like okay but what if we go back and assume that our understanding of gravity is what’s wrong?

What if instead of gravity happening (spacetime moves and that movement causes gravity to happen), gravity emerges (the fabric of the universe has gravity stored inside its structure and spacetime and gravity emerge together from that structure). As its own thing, alongside spacetime (which is also a product of the structure of the universe), with its own behaviors and stuff.

And emergent gravity CAN explain why the edges of galaxies go zoom (I do not understand the math behind it I’m sorry!), without needing to rely on “idk let’s say Dark Matter and move on.” Already it’s allowed Verlinde to accurately predict the movement of stars on the edges of galaxies on its own. (of course, bear in mind that it does not explain EVERYTHING. yet. but it does bring physics and quantum physics closer to being able to work together).

Which makes all of this actually really cool, because it means that this huge assumption we humans have made and based a lot of stuff on for a while (dark matter existing) may be wrong, BUT we may have figured out WHY it was wrong, and that means we may be able to start doing things right, and that always leads to even more fascinating discoveries and advancements in science.
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In which, Coulson delivers surprising news (twice), Jarvis is his usual helpful self, Tony takes the initiative, and secrets are finally revealed.  Will these two crazy kids finally work things out?

Updated tags:  Anal sex; Anal Fingering; Rimming; Blow Jobs; Knotting

It’s a mystery!
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in honour of 3mb gifs 
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Researchers have used Easter Island Moai replicas to show how they might have been “walked” to where they are displayed.


Finally. People need to realize aliens aren’t the answer for everything (when they use it to erase poc civilizations and how smart they were)

(via TumbleOn)

What’s really wild is that the native people literally told the Europeans “they walked” when asked how the statues were moved. The Europeans were like “lol these backwards heathens and their fairy tales guess it’s gonna always be a mystery!”

Maori told Europeans that kiore were native rats and no one believed them until DNA tests proved it

And the Iroquois told Europeans that squirels showed them how to tap maple syrup and no one believed them until they caught it on video

Oral history from various First Nations tribes in the Pacific Northwest contained stories about a massive earthquake/tsunami hitting the coast, but no one listened to them until scientists discovered physical evidence of quakes from the Cascadia fault line.

Roopkund Lake AKA “Skeleton Lake” in the Himalayas in India is eerie because it was discovered with hundreds of skeletal remains and for the life of them researchers couldn’t figure out what it was that killed them. For decades the “mystery” went unsolved.

Until they finally payed closer attention to local songs and legend that all essentially said “Yah the Goddess Nanda Devi got mad and sent huge heave stones down to kill them”. That was consistent with huge contusions found all on their neck and shoulders and the weather patterns of the area, which are prone to huge & inevitably deadly goddamn hailstones. http://ift.tt/1RgNjhM

Literally these legends were past down for over a thousand years and it still took researched 50 to “figure out” the “mystery”. 🙄

Adding to this, the Inuit communities in Nunavut KNEW where both the wrecks of the HMS Erebus and HMS Terror were literally the entire time but Europeans/white people didn’t even bother consulting them about either ship until like…last year. 

“Inuit traditional knowledge was critical to the discovery of both ships, she pointed out, offering the Canadian government a powerful demonstration of what can be achieved when Inuit voices are included in the process.

In contrast, the tragic fate of the 129 men on the Franklin expedition hints at the high cost of marginalising those who best know the area and its history.

“If Inuit had been consulted 200 years ago and asked for their traditional knowledge – this is our backyard – those two wrecks would have been found, lives would have been saved. I’m confident of that,” she said. “But they believed their civilization was superior and that was their undoing.”


“Oh yeah, I heard a lot of stories about Terror, the ships, but I guess Parks Canada don’t listen to people,” Kogvik said. “They just ignore Inuit stories about the Terror ship.”

Schimnowski said the crew had also heard stories about people on the land seeing the silhouette of a masted ship at sunset.

“The community knew about this for many, many years. It’s hard for people to stop and actually listen … especially people from the South.”


Indigenous Australians have had stories about giant kangaroos and wombats for thousands of years, and European settlers just kinda assumed they were myths. Cut to more recently when evidence of megafauna was discovered, giant versions of Australian animals that died out 41 000 years ago.

Similarly, scientists have been stumped about how native Palm trees got to a valley in the middle of Australia, and it wasn’t until a few years ago that someone did DNA testing and concluded that seeds had been carried there from the north around 30 000 years ago… aaand someone pointed out that Indigenous people have had stories about gods from the north carrying the seeds to a valley in the central desert.

oh man let me tell you about Indigenous Australian myths - the framework they use (with multi-generational checking that’s unique on the planet, meaning there’s no drifting or mutation of the story, seriously they are hardcore about maintaining integrity) means that we literally have multiple first-hand accounts of life and the ecosystem before the end of the last ice age

it’s literally the oldest accurate oral history of the world.  

Now consider this: most people consider the start of recorded history to be with  the Sumerians and the Early Dynastic period of the Egyptians.  So around 3500 BCE, or five and a half thousand years agoThese highly accurate Aboriginal oral histories originate from twenty thousand years ago at least


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