#AND THEY KEEP YELLING AT ME IF I FROWN. BLAH BLAH BLAH YOU LOOK UGLY WITH YOUR FACE WRINKLED LIKE THAT BLAH BLAH BLAH

[eudico-my-beloved]

i fucking hate it here im being treated like some stupid five year old and its driving me absolutely insane. literally on the way into the apartment i opened the gate thing and they straight up said "oh i didnt know you were smart enough to do that" like????? hello????????????????? the password is LITERALLY WRITTEN THE FUCK DOWN NEXT TO THE DAMN KEYPAD?????????????????????????????????

[one-boring-person]

Swear To It.

Paul (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: angst, mention of injury

Context: this is sort of a continuation of my last Paul fic (Behave Yourself). Basically, the reader is on duty and has to separate a fight, only to figure out that one of the people involved is their very own boyfriend.

A/N: I feel like I've released a lot of Top Gun stuff recently, so I thought I'd get this out of my drafts, as is started this last week and haven't had time to finish it. I felt in the mood for some angst, so here we go 😂😅

Masterlist

The Boardwalk is unusually busy for a Tuesday night, the normally popular attractions and shops swarming with people, the rides crowded and unpleasant to go on, what with the sheer volume of people trying to get on at the same time, drunk and tipsy gaggles of teens causing insignificant havoc all over the place. A few older visitors have complained over the last hour, but, as always, we ignore them, knowing by now that most of then are exaggerating about the severity of the problems, trying to get the younger population to leave the Boardwalk to them. Thankfully we haven't had to break up many fights, though my chest still hurts from where some screaming girl elbowed me when I had to pull her away from her sobbing "friend", red welts lining my arm from where she managed to scratch at me, the otherwise unmarked skin stinging a little under my uniform shirt.

Having been told to continue my rounds, I pace slowly around the perimeter of the carousel, eyeing the throbbing crowd with a practised eye, taking in the rowdy surfers and punks gathered a little way away, their leaders apparently having an arguement; though I don't see it escalating any time soon, another security guard walking up to them to sort it out even as they start to break apart. Not much is audible over the tinny music and cacophony of voices, but I recognise the general gist of what is being said: we'll finish this later. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, instead focusing on a group of three teenagers surrounded by a cloud of blue smoke, the pungent odour clearly cannabis, joints pinched between shaking hands, their laughter lazy and drug-induced, one of them practically using the others as a crutch. Cracking my neck, I prepare to deal with them, intending to remind them that drug use is not quite legal in the presence of smaller children, hoping to advise them that there are better (more discreet) places to continue their fun. I go to walk over to them, only to be stopped by a sudden shout behind me, the sound oddly familiar.

Turning towards it, I notice a commotion starting near the ticket booth, where a group of curious onlookers has gathered around what I can only imagine is two unruly teens initiating a fight. I start to push my way through the crowds towards them, my pace hindered by the multitudes of people in my way, my urgency spiking as more shouts and curses follow the initial one, the audience starting to chant the word "fight" over and over again, as if they were still in high school, cheering and taunting accompanying the uproar as more of us security guards move in to break it up.

As I approach, I am greeted by a few elbows to the body, feet stamping on mine as I push through the hordes, the riled-up onlookers pushing together into a near impenetrable wall of bodies. Yelling at them all to move out of the way, I manage to force my way through, where I have to take a moment to realise who exactly it is causing chaos at this exact moment.

My eyes lock with David and Dwayne's across the newly formed circle briefly, at which point I take in that they're trying to force their brother off of the cursing rocker beneath him, Marko trying to hold back one of the victim's friends as he tries to escalate the situation. Ignoring the shouts and commands of his friends, Paul continues beating the hell out of the guy on the floor, obviously in a rage over something, fists flying in a relentless volley, despite the hands on his back holding him away. Shock and anger flood me at the sight, noticing that the rocker at his feet is covered in blood and bruises, one of his eyes already starting to swell up into an ugly purple colour, though he hasn't submitted yet, choosing instead to kick and scratch at any available body part he can reach, swearing profusely at the vampire.

Without another thought, I throw myself forwards, being the first guard on the scene, latching myself onto Paul's shoulder, hands propped against his chest as I force my way under his arm, knowing that the most leverage I'll get is if I'm underneath him pushing upwards and away from the other, who is currently punching at my back. I call out to them both, telling them to cut it out, knowing I can't really use Paul's name in case I give away our relationship, my muscles straining under the vampire's supernatural strength, struggling to push him away. After a minute or so, my words finally seem to sink in, the lanky blonde pulling away with a growl of frustration, a sick smirk of pride plastered over his face as he watches another security guard helping his victim to his feet, eyes flashing dangerously at the scent of fresh blood before they flick to me, realisation setting in as I give him a disgusted look. I turn to the others, ignoring my boyfriend completely.

"Get him out of here." I simply say to them, nodding appreciatively at them as they agree, the three of them moving to take Paul away from the Boardwalk, and away from me. Anger and frustration race through my veins as I stalk over to help the other guard with the battered rocker, my own body aching now from the blows it received, though I don't say anything as we carry the guy away from the crowd towards the small building we use as a place to store our stuff whilst at work.

An hour later, I'm dismissed, my feet dragging in exhaustion and dull anger as I trek home, my mind replaying the events of the shift in my head.

He knew I was working today. He knew and he started a fight anyway.

Frustrated sighs leave me every now and then as I walk, subconsciously finding my way back to my home, where a motorcycle is already waiting outside, the sight of which stirs up a feeling of dead and frustration. Ignoring it, I go to the door and unlock it, stepping inside and throwing my bag to the floor, taking my shoes and jacket off as I shuffle further into the hall, going straight to the stairs. Instead of going to my room, I enter the bathroom instead, quickly stripping and getting into the shower, knowing full well that the person I least want to see is somewhere in the house, and that he knows I'm annoyed at him. As the water runs down my body, I try to ignore the fact that I'm going to have to face him, focusing instead on the motions of cleaning myself, finding the actions soothing to do, working the knots out of muscles, wincing when my hands run over the newly formed bruises and welts on my skin.

I take around ten minutes, climbing out and drying off at a relatively slow pace, trying to relax myself in preparation for what is to come, finally wrapping the towel around myself before stepping out of the bathroom. Going to my room, I halt in my tracks when I catch sight of the lithe vampire sat on my bed, a deep frown etching itself onto my face.

"What do you want?" I grit out, turning my back as I go to my dresser, rooting around in my draws for some comfortable clothes, pulling out a shirt and trousers.

"I wanted to apologise for the fight. I didn't realise it was such a big deal for you, and I didn't mean to get into one tonight." Paul responds quietly, audibly standing and walking to stand behind me.

Bristling slightly, I clench my jaw at his words, a spark of anger flaring up in me.

"You know full well how I feel about people starting fights on the Boardwalk." I snap back at him, turning and pushing past him.

"Yeah, I know, but I never meant to get into a fight! I'm sorry!" He reasons, trying to follow me, only just realising that I'm not wearing any clothes.

"It's always the same, though. You didn't mean to start it, you didn't realise, blah blah blah. When is it ever going to change, Paul? I'm fed up with coming home beaten and bruised because I've had to separate people, and then to have to pry my own boyfriend away from someone? It's just not fair to me, and that's something that you don't seem to realise."

The vampire is silent for a moment, his blue eyes fixed on me, mind clearly working to form a response. I don't give him the time, striding forwards to push him out of the door, closing it in his face with some force. Turning, I sigh heavily, hating the hurt look that flashed across his face as I did so, swiftly changing into my more comfortable clothes and collapsing on the bed, my fists clenching in the duvet as I try to control myself, resisting the urge to open the door to him again.

For a little while, I remain there, sprawled on the bed with tears of exhaustion and frustration threatening to spill from my eyes, my anger fading a little until it's just a dull emotion clouding my mind. Internally, I consider quitting my job, considering the factors keeping me there: I'm good at my job, it pays well enough to afford basic needs and it's secure, though the factors pushing me away almost seem to have a greater affect on me - coming home bruised most nights, having to put up with rowdy Boardwalk goers, dealing with verbal and some physical abuse from some of the more raucous visitors. Sniffing, I curl myself up into a ball, barely registering as there is a knock on the window.

Looking over, I let out a sigh of frustration at the sight of Paul crouched on the ledge, his tall frame bent almost in two as he peers in at me, gesturing with one finger at the latch, expression almost desperate. I stare at him, thinking over the options in my head: I could leave him out there, or I can let him in to explain himself. It takes me a couple of minutes to decide, a frustrated growl leaving me as I stand up, my steps slow and calculated as I go to the window, watching as a small smile works it's way onto his handsome face. Approaching, I keep my expression neutral, reaching for the latch and flicking it open, turning instantly and walking back to my bed, where I sit with my eyes fixed on him.

Awkwardly, he forces himself through the window, relief evident in his expression as he finally stands up straight again and closes the makeshift door behind him, hands wringing together, as if fighting the urge to move forwards, body tense.

"Look, I'm really sorry, (Y/n). I wasn't aware that your job was so difficult, and I hate that I made it difficult for you tonight. I'm really sorry that you got hurt because of me, I feel really ashamed that it happened. I know I have to make it up to you somehow, so I hope you'll let me, because I really don't want to lose you! I'll do anything to keep you!" He finally says, voice pleading and laced with shame, teeth biting at his lip as he watches me for a reaction, welts appearing on his pale hands from where he's digging his fingers in.

Eyeing him, I think over what he's said, silently wondering whether or not to accept his apology, the anger within me spiking a little, though I swiftly suppress it again, sighing heavily as I stand up from the bed, having made a decision.

"I accept your apology, Paul, but I need you to understand that saying you're sorry is a different thing to showing me you're sorry. I know I got hurt tonight, but I'm not the only security guard that works there, and I'm sure they'd all rather they didn't come home with bruises every night. If you want to make it up to me, then you have to swear to me that you'll not get into another fight on the Boardwalk, and that you'll make sure the others understand that, too." I explain to him, referring to the rest of his coven, watching as his emotions seem to force themselves put over his face, a variety of odd expressions following my words. Finally, he seems to settle on relieved, eyes bright with happiness.

"Yes, of course I'll swear to that! I'll do anything, (Y/n), you mean too much to me to lose you!" Paul gushes, rushing forwards slightly, as if to bring me into a hug, only stopping as couple of inches away from me, hesitating.

"Do it, then. Swear to it." I prompt him, looking up into his face.

"I swear to you, that I won't start, or get into another fight on the Boardwalk. I swear it on my life." He promises, completely serious for once, meaning it's totally genuine.

"Good." I smile up at him, finally giving in to the urge I've had since I first walked in, stepping forwards to rest my head against his chest, my arms linking around his abdomen.

Happily, he wraps his own arms around me, crushing me against his body as he buries his face in my hair, his familiar scent enveloping me as we stand there. Perfectly content, we remain in place for what feels like hours, neither of us saying a word, just happy to be in each other's company for the time being, my body trying it's best to relax.

The rest of the night is spent cuddling together, neither of us wanting to be away from the other, Paul only leaving when he notices that the sun is close to coming up, cutting it fine as he always does. As he leaves, he promises me that he'll be waiting for me on the Boardwalk the next night, ready to help me deal with troublesome Boardwalk goers.

[the-messedup-priorities-so-far]

sticker fic:

brought to you by the sticker ficcers, @xojo​ and @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover​.

the narrated version:

"Morning, Sunshine." Says Dean. "Some coffee?"

"SCREW YOU." Says Sam. His glorious hair is wet.

"How dare you!" Says Dean. His mouth's the O-shape of offense. He's also putting on the dead guy robe for some reason.

"BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH!" Sam bitchfaces. In his eyes, is a glint which says, as he does - blah, blah, blah, blah. Then, he casts down his gaze. "Well, you are kinda butch."

Dean's eyes widen. His eyebrows don't rise. Instead of surprised, he looks shocked. Then he smirks, and quickly grows a stubble. With completely black eyes, he says. "I'm a demon."

Crowley appears, smirking. "Hello, boys."

"ASSBUTT." Castiel bellows. 

No one had known he was there.

"What's wrong with you?" Says Crowley, after quickly growing a stubble as well.

Castiel folds his arms. It makes the trenchcoat look fitted. You know, like a liar.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks, tucking his hair behind his ear at supersonic speed. No one knows when it happened. But he's Sam Fucking Winchester, so they know it did.

"I don't know!" Dean scratches his ear. He does not know the question was for Castiel. He makes his eyes as sad as they can be - and they can be impressively sad. One eyebrow strays up, floating on a cloud of misery. "I never was."

Sam looks alarmed in a V-neck. 

This is important information. Absolutely integral.

"Cat's out." Says Cas. He's rude, because his lips do a rude thing. And because of what he said. His eyes mock tragedy.

"Shut your face." Dean points. Pointing is rude. He does it anyway. While he does it, Sam grows bangs. "Oh god."

He lies down on the floor.

"Don't say that to me." Says Sam, with dimples of depression. He buries his face in his hands. Must feel pretty, the author conjectures.

"Come on." Dean says. He's frowning, and on a park bench. He looks closer with concentration and develops a double chin. Then he gels his hair really quickly and adds. "You look like a baby."

"SCREW YOU." Says Sam. His hair is wetter. His head is wet as well. Then he dries it with a whoosh no one notices, and looks away in disdain. He is in an open collared shirt. The author hopes you take note of these plot points carefully.

Dean shrieks.

Dean cries at a mirror.

Dean scowls, unimpressed. Ironically, his scowl is impressive. Moreover, it deages him.

Cas shrieks too. His eyes scream horrifiedness. His nostrils flare. You could see his molars, if you tried. The author tries.

Dean looks at a corner. "I don't even care anymore."

Charlie pokes her head out of a yellow car. Not enough is visible to be ugly, but readers are advised to assume it's ugly. "What's up bitches?" She's wearing a seatbelt. Gays are awesome.

"Kind of in the middle of something." Says Dean. His forehead has creases which have no right being pretty. They're pretty.

"I know. I was surprised too." Says Cas.

No one knows what he means.

Sam, suddenly lit in a green light, shows that he doesn't know what he means. He doesn't wait for an explanation, and raises his hand. "That's enough, uh yeah, thanks."

Sam is rude, beautifully.

The author is very helpful with pointing out plot points, as ever.

"You done?" Says Claire and her french braid.

Chuck is there now. He has an extremely white mug. It could have coffee inside. It could also have poison. The author does not identify as a journalist, and is not required to be unbiased.

"Do you have any bacon?" Says Chuck. He has curls. They hide the evil under.

"No." Jack says, blank faced for some reason. "You back off. Old man."

"Back off." Says Sam, in a slightly greater font size. One (1) lock of hair strays from his perfect mane, and falls on his face. It's still perfect, the author assures. Then Sam quickly gets shot, and his forehead pierced with metal rods. It's clearly for the vibe. Because Sam says, "I will destroy you." He does not say it periodlessly.

"Yeah. That's right." Says Jack. He pouts, because he's right. He can, because he's Jack.

Sam looks proud of him with a spotted blue tie and shiny, conditioned hair.

The author loves him very much.

part two, if you're the kind of person who wants it:

Rowena purses her lips, ending up with dimples of discontent.

"Balls!" Bobby cries out. Then he takes off his cap for some reason before adding, "Were you ever nice?"

"Shut up!" Dean yells over his shoulder. He fixes her with an offended stare - as if not shutting up would be offensive on her part.

"I hate to interrupt." Says Rowena, interrupting. "What the hell is this?" She looks appalled. Perhaps she's realized she just interrupted.

He's excellent at delivering backhanded insults like that. The author is proud of his newfound subtlety.

"Gun. Mouth. Now." Dean simply reaffirms Bobby's accusation - because he's awesome like that. "Shut your face." He also says, pointing at them all, to further illustrate his paternal figure's point.

Crowley plants his chin in his palm, and looks at the floor with an unreadable (the author swears she tried) glint in his eyes. "Kill me." Perhaps they're tears.

"Oh, they don't miss me." Cas lets out, matter-of-factly, as he sips from his teacup of coffee.

"I think this was just a minor misunderstanding." Sam steps in, and brings puppy bangs with him to solidify his statement.

The author tries and fails to survive staring at them.

Dean clicks his tongue, and manages to resemble a squirrel to a T. Or an S. Everyone's entitled to spell words differently, English is a weird language.

Sam looks at Dean, irritated. "Make it stop." He grits out, clenching his jaw. He's replaced the bangs with sideburns. They have more potential to seem irritated.

"Maybe." Cas pouts, inexplicably.

"What?" Dean sounds positively aghast - but it's toned down from the years of practise from being in the poetic kind of love with the only angel in the world for him - and thus, only shows up in his eyes.

"You don't understand." Cas picks up a salesboy by his collar. He's so whimsical, the author completely gets why Dean's head over heels for him. Cas keeps everyone - especially salesboys who don't get him pie - on their toes.

"You look like a baby." Dean informs him, all laugh-lines and dimples. "Okay, all right." He says next, gruff, trying to smoothen out the curve of seeming like a goner for Cas.

Cas shoots him a discouraging look. "Ouch." He bites his bottom lip, and closes his eyes - and everyone in a seven mile radius ends up pregnant.

True story.

Also, Narendra Modi shows up, namaste-ing the phenomena that is Cas.

"Shhhhit!" Cas squints. He knows a thing or two about horrible, prejudiced political leaders, from an alternate universe Cas's experiences.

"Oh god." Sam adds, regrowing bangs really quickly.

Modi whispers into his phone, eyes trepidly on everyone in the room, and a hand covering his mouth.

Dean stares, unimpressed. Or so it seems until he says, "You gotta teach me how to do that."

Modi shoots the universal gesture for OK at him.

"I will stab you in your face." Dean declares, with parted hair and an office tie. "I'm gonna get my gun." Now he's got sleep-floofed hair and the dead guy robe. Threatening Dean Winchester sure is impressive like that.

(Maybe he'd wanted to learn right away, and took Modi's OK as dismissal.)

(Meh.)

"Maybe you could be a little less... Lord-ly?" Sam cuts in, with his best lawyer impression. Nobody's sure who it's directed to - Dean, the Indian PM, Cas even? - but it doesn't matter because his eyebrows curve like parentheses of reasonability, hair tucked completely behind his ears - and everyone listens to this Sam.

"OKAY." Dean mumbles, sticking a needle in a doll. Or so, the author assumes he's doing.

Sam stares at him blankly for a beat, and then sighs into a smile. His hair's now long enough to curl magnificently at his neck. "You're too precious for the world." He strangles out, basically choking on the sentiment as he grabs Dean, and smushes him into a hug.

Cas smirks, smug.

"Oh, you." Sam pulls back enough to suddenly be in a maroon cardigan as he gazes at his brother through spectacled eyes of adoration.

Dean pulls him in then, bringing Sam down to his height - and Sam's hair escapes the ponytail grandly enough to fall over his face in perfect, messy locks.

The author's already weak heart stutters in her chest, and proceeds to give up entirely.

"Oh. No." Cas exclaims. Probably not for the author, but it's a sweet, borderline necromance-y coincidence. And then, unexplanably, he tilts his head and furrows his brow. "The whore."

Dean sighs, and facepalms. Sam changes into a grey button-up, and looks away into the distance.

The author daydreams too hard about being looked at like that, and loses it entirely.

Fin.

[brightlycoloredteacups]

In The Morning

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: General Hux x Neutral!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You’re the personal assistant to Hux, and you want a transfer. 

Tag List: None

Don’t look him in the eye, you think, he'll figure you out in a millisecond. Being the personal assistant to General Armitage Hux had to be the easiest gig you’d ever landed. You’d been almost everything. A slave, a dancer, an escort, a soldier, now assistant. Your superior officer had felt bad after what happened in your last battle, so he’d gotten you the cushy job of being the General’s personal assistant. But now there was an added complication. You had a massive crush on him.

Your crush didn’t stop you from performing your duties admirably, but damned if it didn’t make it hard. It did nothing for your extreme lack of self confidence either. Someone like the general was so beautiful, you found it had to believe he was a real person sometimes. And you? You were scarred up from the hard life you lived, missing limbs and rough hands. You were not a delicate creature to behold, you weren’t weak in spirit, you were tough. Your friends liked to joke you were so tough that you could survive the direct attack of the Finalizer. It was a mixed source of pride and pain, that joke.  

Being so...unique looking made it hard for you to find a lover. A long term anyway. You could always find a willing partner in the backstreets for the right amount of credits. Even then it took someone with a strong belly and a stout heart to see you completely naked.  But you longed for the romance of falling in love, the flowers, the poetry all the frills and fancy. You’d never get it, and that was just something you had to live with.

As it was, you had requested a transfer no less than three times. All denied. You wanted to find out who was denying them, and ask them why...after you wrung their tiny little necks. Didn’t they understand this was a personal hell you wanted to be free from? A torture you could no longer endure? Maybe they’d get the hint after the fourth one you put in that very morning.  

That wasn’t what you had to concentrate on now, now you had to listen to the general’s instructions for you today. It was the same as usual, review this, deny that, get him his bitter tea, make sure Millicent is fed and played with, blah, blah, blah. “Right away sir.” You tell him, wanting this to be over as soon as possible. “One more thing,” he says, rising from his desk. “Yes sir?” Hux throws a datapad in front of you. You’re transfer! “Am I really so bad?” 

You gulp, not knowing how to answer that. You decide to go with the semi-truth “No sir, best job I’ve ever had honestly, it’s just…” Think of something quick! “I’m bored is all. I s’pose I just want to see what else is out there.” The General sniffs. You chance a glance at him. His face tells it all, he knows you’re lying. But does he know the reason behind your lie?  

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that,” Was his answer. “You’ve become invaluable to me these last few months,” He moves around his desk and walks towards you, invading your space. He’s too close, he’ll feel the thump of your heart through the floor. He lifts your chin up, so you HAVE to look him in the eyes. A challenge. You loved challenges...normally You feel the love-sick heartache melt away as you steel your gaze and stand firm. “You’re my best staff member, I’ll not have you leave me on a whim. Give me a good reason to let you go, and I will.”  

The silence between you two lasted a long while. You could’ve sworn he moved a little closer to you, as if to kiss you, but you were sure that was your imagination. You jerk you chin from his hand. “Understood.” You say softly. You turn on your heel and retreat to your desk. Damn him, damn this post, damn your feelings. 

*

Armitage Hux doesn’t understand it, he doesn’t want to, doesn’t have to. All he knows is that he’s incredibly attracted to you. Perhaps it’s because you aren’t the dainty little pieces he’s used to, peacocking, yelling at him silently ‘look at me! Look at me!’. Perhaps it’s the way you approach your job. You’re efficient, diligent, often keeping up with his early mornings and late nights with little to no problem. Meeting his every whim with a promptness only a soldier of your caliber could. He knows so little about you, he wants to, no he needs to know more. 

He knows what’s he’s read in the files. You were a street rat, doing all you could to survive until you were picked up by the First Order. A little late in the game, at seventeen, you quickly made rank. The stories that surrounded you were fascinating. You were a one person army, with added brains. 

Your last battle, however, left you scarred. You were missing a leg and an arm, your face had one long scar settled on the right side, from your forehead to your chin. It pulled the right side of your lip down in a permanent frown. A scar across your throat told of a botched assassination attempt by a rebel sympithizer. That was all he could see. He could only guess at the markings that told your incredible stories of survival. 

He wants to ask about them. He’s sure you’d tell him if he did. You were straightforward in that regard. He refrained from doing so only because he knew how much you hated them. He’d found you glaring at them more than once in reflective surfaces. Scratching at them as if you could peel away the ravages of time. You hated yourself, and it killed him inside.

What killed him more was your ardent wish for a transfer. Hadn’t he made it obvious he so desperately wanted you? He complimented you daily, on your work ethic, your dress, your hair. He gave you light duty when he sensed you were having a bad day. He let you go early at least twice a week in an effort to be nice to you. Surely his intentions were obvious?

He sits at his desk, staring at your transfer in front of him. It occurs to him that perhaps you didn’t feel the same way about him.

The realization comes crashing down on him. He chokes, momentarily worried Kylo is doing it from somewhere within the ship. That’s why you were asking for the transfer, he had made you uncomfortable by being so pleasant.

It all makes sense now. The way you avoid his gaze. The reason you’re always giving him quick glances when it seems he isn’t paying attention. The way you stare at him when he isn’t looking. You despise him. He gulps, losing his neck fastenings. You absolutely hate him. 

 His brow furrows, feeling guilty that he didn’t recognize the signs before. First, he should apologize to you. He’ll do it in the morning. Secondly, he’ll personally see to it that you get transferred to you desired location. Somewhere much more cushy, somewhere safe. Planetside, so you can settle down with someone nice, someone more like yourself, a fellow soldier. You’ll have a good retirement package. He nods to himself, it’s the least he can do, no matter how much it hurts. 

*

You had been drinking. It was never a good idea for you to drink, which was why you didn’t do it often, but you needed one tonight. One easily turned into two, which turned into five, and now you were sufficiently drunk. Drunk enough, you daresay, to give a piece of your mind to your superior officer. General Armitage Hux.

“Smug bastard,” you growl. He���d been the one denying your transfers all along. “Selfish prick,” You continue. You had to be good at your job, hadn’t you? You just had to be efficient and neat and good. You were always so good. Good for your masters, a good little lap dog that did nothing more than take all the abuse. No more! “That evil little shit.” You stand, taking a moment to get your balance. “That no good, dirty rotten, evil little shit. Why, he’s going to get a piece of my mind!” You nod, as if talking to a crowd of people. That little voice inside of your head cheers you on. What right did he have denying the transfer you so ardently wanted? 

You knew where his quarters were, you’ve had to feed Millicent for him before, that meant entrance into his very sparsely populated rooms. The walk from his rooms to yours was normally a short one, but it was made longer thanks to the alcohol. Walking at this point in time wasn’t exactly the easiest task for you when you were drunk. You managed to keep your balance, making it to his rooms with little fuss.

You get there and hail him. He lets you in immediately. Before he can even take in the disheveled sight of you, you start to chew him out. “You want a good reason for me wanting a transfer? Fine I’ll give you one” 

“Lieutenant, I don’t think this is the right time. You’re obviously-” he begins, “This is the perfect time,” You argue, “I want a transfer because I’m falling for you, you dumbass.” You hiccup, tears begin to prick your eyes. You’re so deep into your thoughts you miss the pinking of his cheeks and the pleased smile that graced his features. “And there’s no way we’re going to be together, so there. I want my transfer.” 

“We can talk about this in the morning, when you’re sober.” He says, just so happy with how things turned out. “No, we talk about this now. I want my transfer. I can’t stand being around you anymore. You remind me of...of...all this!” you motion towards yourself. “I’m so ugly!” You wail, tears beginning to fall. Had you been sober, you would’ve laughed at the look of alarm on Hux’s face. “I’m all scarred and beaten. Did you know this isn’t even my real arm?” You roll up your sleeve to show him the cybernetics underneath. “All I ever wanted was to fall in love.” You begin to pace in front of him, letting it all out. “I want the romance, the flowers, the poetry. I want kisses underneath moonlight. Long walks on the beach. Candlelit dinners. And now I never can. Who would be with someone that looks like I do? I’m a thing General! A tool to get the job done, a means to an end. I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t keep falling for you even deeper. It hurts, it hurts so much” You suddenly sober up. Lip trembling, you stop crying, trying to gather what dignity you can. “So, I want my transfer, and I want it immediately.” 

Hux takes a moment to take in the pathetic sight of you. This was not his idea of a love confession, but he’d take it over rejection any day. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” He tells you again. “Now run along.” You sniff and nod, “Right,” You say, “In the morning.”

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Defective.

This is a drabble based off of the “Box Boy whumpee” concept first thought up by @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and popularized in a series by @shameless-whumper, which first gave me the inspiration to write this. Cheers to you guys. And oof this has a long bit of exposition, but I promise it gets whumpy lol.

“Happy birthday!” X shouted, making dramatic jazz hands at her side when Y opened the door. He nearly dropped the washcloth he was holding in surprise, evidently interrupted while doing his dishes.

“X ! Oh my gosh, I wasn’t expecting you!” Y laughed through the sentence, pocketing the rag, and wrapped X in a tight hug.

“Well, duh,” she pulled back to look him in the eyes, a goofy grin plastered on her face, “I couldn’t miss my big brother’s birthday. Especially since it’s your big three-oh this year!”

“Oh, yes, can’t wait for the constant ‘old man’ taunts from you young, flippant thing still in your twenties.” He rolled his eyes, stepping back and holding the door open. “Come on in, it’s freezing out there.”

X took him up on that offer, grabbing a large wrapped box beside her and stepping into the house. She set it down again to take off her shoes and coat, and when she looked back, Y was crouched down by it with wide eyes.

“I didn’t even see this. Is it for me?”

“Hey, shoo,” she swatted his hand away from one of the air holes, “and of course it’s for you, genius. You’re the birthday boy, not me.” 

“Ah, right. What’s with the holes, anyway? You just that bad at wrapping?”

X lifted the box away from him with a soft chuckle and walked down the hall to Y’s basement stairs, kicking open the door with her foot.

“You’ll know why when you open it.” she called back to him as he trailed after her.

“And do you mind telling me why you’re taking it downstairs, or is that a secret too?”

“Just a safety precaution.” she smirked, knowing it would make no sense with the context of an average birthday present. X could almost hear her brother’s exasperated sigh behind her as he gave up and merely followed along. 

After walking through the floor into a smaller, mostly empty carpeted room, she finally set the box down and shut the door behind Y. 

“Alright, open it up!” she said, bouncing on her heels as he knelt down next to his present. There was a clear grimace on his face.

“Ugh, I’m just gonna pray you didn’t wrap up a pipe bomb again this year.”

“Come on, that wasn’t too bad! You only got, what, first degree burns on your hands last time? But all that aside, I promise you: this is way better than any bomb.” 

“If you say so…” And with that, Y ripped open the wrapping paper to reveal a wooden crate with wide slats, and something folded up inside. He started reading the note on the lid out loud.

“Dear customer, thank you for purchasing our wares… blah blah… we hope you enjoy your newly purchased-” He froze at the next words, his concerned expression shifting to one of hesitant joy, and then to one of exuberance as it sunk in. “-box boy? You got me a box boy? Seriously?! Oh- and from Whumpee Barn too? Shit, X, that’s expensive!”

“Expensive, but high quality, and fully customizable! Plus, Whumpee Barn always has the prettiest ones. Go on and open it up; I want to see if they found one with the right parameters.” She made a circle motion with her hand, hurrying him on. 

Y pried off the wooden lid, and grabbed the boy’s arm, hauling it to its feet. The boy’s long, dark hair was tied up behind the blindfold and its pale arms, dotted with freckles, were restrained securely behind its back. 

Reaching carefully, Y pulled the blindfold off of the boy, who was only a little shorter than him, and came face to face with dark blue eyes. 

“Oh, it’s perfect! You know just what I like, X.” Y fawned over the boy, who tensed at the excessive attention and went completely rigid when its new owner put a hand in its hair, removing the hair tie and combing it out to its full length. 

A scowl built on the poor thing’s face and, noticing the displeasure, Y put a comforting hand on its jaw, petting slowly.

“Hey, you’re alright, little pet. Don’t sour such a pretty face with an ugly expression like that.” When the boy didn’t relent, he slapped it hard across the face instead. “Listen to me. I am your master, and you will do what I say. Now turn that frown upside down before I do it for you.”

“Maybe it’s just uncomfortable,” X suggested, stepping forward with her pocket knife drawn. When Y didn’t object, she sawed through the rope keeping the boy’s wrists tied together, and carefully moved its shoulders forward, stiff from being tied up for hours on end. “That better, buddy?” she asked, patting him on the back lightly.

As soon as her touch left, the boy turned swiftly on its heels, glaring daggers at her. Before she could even think, it lunged forward, grabbing her by the neck and pinning her to the opposite wall.

“I’m nobody’s damn pet!” it yelled in a hoarse voice, grip tightening incrementally around her throat, “I’m not a fucking object, I’m not something you can just sell and claim ownership of, and stuff in a little box and call cutesy names-!”

It gasped as Y grabbed it, pulling it off of and far away from X to the opposite wall. She took a deep breath, straightening out her clothes with a tired glare.

“Agh, the stupid thing’s defective! And I thought I could trust that price to get something half decent for my brother’s birthday.”

“What the fuck do you mean, defective!” The boy, still struggling against Y’s grip, snarled, “I’m just as human as-mmmf!” 

Its voice was muffled as he shoved the dishrag from earlier into its mouth as a makeshift gag. A well placed knee to the groin sent it falling to the floor, struggling to breathe around the gag as Y pressed a foot on its chest.

“I’m sorry it’s such a disappointment, Y,” X sighed.

“You don’t need to be sorry at all, actually. I think training this thing is going to be a lot of fun. It’ll be fun to exploit the defects, at least. Could you hand me your knife really quick, and then hold his arms?”

“Gladly,” she remarked, tossing the closed blade to her brother. He flicked it open as she knelt and raised the boy’s arms, pinning them above his head. Below both of them, the boy flinched, wide eyes trained on the sharp pocket knife. At the fearful reaction, Y smiled and knelt closer to it. 

“Oh, I almost forgot! They don’t use things like this on you when you’re manufactured, huh? Only isolation, and fear, and threats… I’d take a wild guess and say you’ve never felt the pain of a knife carving through your skin, have you?” The heavy, wheezing breathing of the body below him told him everything he needed to know. “I guess today’s your lucky day then, huh?”

He looked at the clean canvas of its torso stretched out under him, and started on the left side with a clean downward slice. Blood beaded up quickly from the shallow cut, and the boy clamped down on its gag, whimpering with the flash of pain. 

Grinning in satisfaction, Y did it again. And again. And again. Each time, the cuts got deeper and the boy would tense up further, not realizing that was only making everything worse. It only whimpered at first, which morphed quickly into breathy keens and moans. Agony-driven tears leaked from its eyes, always screwed closed in anticipation of the next cut, but flying open in surprise when it came. Its clear blue eyes grew hazy and red from crying, but Y didn’t let up. He needed to hear this poor creature scream.

Finally, after a particularly deep slice, he put the knife aside. Blood soaked the tip and the rest of the boy’s chest. Belatedly, he realized that it was probably all over the plush carpet by now, too, but that was something future him would just have to deal with. For now, it was back to the boy’s marred chest.

Gently fingering the cut earned a sharp intake of breath, but it was only when he buried his forefinger into the deep wound that it produced any results. A shrill scream escaped the gag, cut off by a wheezing cough and loud sobs. They crescendoed to a wail as he dragged his nail up and down within the cut, twisting and digging deeper into the skin, blood now gushing up and over its torso.

The boy was begging incoherently behind its gag when Y finally removed his finger, much to the thing’s apparent relief as it gasped. 

“Is my message clear to you, little pet?” He asked the question in such a casual tone that, if not listening to the words, one might have assumed he’d simply asked about the weather.

  It nodded desperately, eyes unable to look away from his bloody finger. 

“Perfect. Now I’m sure you’re tired and, well, I’m not a cruel man.” A glint of white teeth showed in a grin. “I’ll let you rest in here--on the soft carpet even!--but I will not have you making a single sound,” he said it slowly, dragging the blood covered finger across the boy’s dry lips, “got it? Remember, if you distract me from spending quality time with my sister on my birthday, I have much, much, more painful ways to punish you.”

The compliant nod came quickly this time, and Y laughed. 

“Alright, that was fun then, wasn’t it, X?” he locked eyes with her and she smiled in return, letting go of the boy. “I’ll lock the door from the outside so this rascal doesn’t try anything nasty, like leaving.” He punctuated the word with a sneer, looking down at it and making his warning clear. 

“I’ll see you later! You had better be ready to behave, then, or you really won’t like what happens. I’d hate to have to ruin your pretty countenance, after all.”

He flicked off the light, locked the door and the boy was left in the darkness with only its own regret and misery to keep it company.

Continued here!

[marvelhead17]

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable)

Chapter 31

Summary: “How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,”

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Graphic depictions of violence, use of weapons, mild to strong language, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, referenced torture and psychological abuse/manipulation, nightmares and night terrors, sexual humour, sexual content.

Word count:  2k

One Month Later

“Daddy, are you awake?” Hope asked quietly as she touched Nathan’s shoulder, he grumbled and didn’t respond, only shuffled a bit to make his position in the bed more comfortable. “Daddy?”

“Mm? Hope? What are you doing up so early sweetie?” Hayden asked from the other side, Hope smiled and bounded over to her, not unfamiliar with the sight of Hayden cuddled up next to her father.

“I want to watch one of those movies that Uncle Wade promised I could see on my birthday, and it’s my birthday today,” she grinned.

Hayden sat up slowly, Nathan’s arm slid from her waist and to the bed as he continued to sleep, she noticed that Hope was already fully dressed in the outfit that she had helped her pick out the night before and was holding her favourite bear, and she grinned at the little girl before brushing her hair gently.

“Oh really, and which one would that be?” she asked.

“The one with the lions,”

“Alright,” she stood up and paused for a moment, eyeing her pyjamas, “Give me two minutes to get dressed, and I’ll meet you downstairs, alright sweetie?”

“Okay,” the girl beamed and ran out with teddy bear in tow.

  Hayden went over to her room and slipped on a pair of lilac jeans and a white tank top with her sneakers and found Hope sitting patiently on the couch of the rec room. Hope watched as Hayden set up everything for the movie and then she made her a small cup of hot chocolate before they both sat on the floor in front of the TV, she clambered into Hayden’s lap and settled herself comfortably.

She grinned and wrapped her arms around the little girl and moved her head to hover over her shoulder.

                                                             * * *

  They were halfway through the movie when Nathan had finally woken and had gone looking for them, he found them cuddled together watching the movie and he felt his heart flutter, he moved to sit down next to them.

“So this is where you two girls are huh? I’ve been looking for you all over,” he wrapped his arm around Hayden’s waist and she smiled and glanced at him before returning her gaze to the movie. “What’s this?” He nodded his head towards the TV.

“The Lion King,” she said.

“Morning, Daddy!” Hope turned and smiled at her dad and then turned her attention back to the movie as well.

“Morning sweetheart,” he placed a kiss on the side of Hope’s head, “You girls had anything to eat yet?” his hand moved from Hayden’s waist up her back to her shoulders, they both shook their heads, “I’ll scrape something together then,” he pecked Hayden on the cheek and stood up to go and make them all breakfast.

                                                             * * *

  Afternoon

                           Colossus manned the barbeque station, Domino organised the rest of the food, and Yukio and Ellie kept an eye on the students that were running around and playing in the expanse of green yard. Hope played among the kids closer to her age and enjoyed the energy around her as her party was on the go.

Nathan sat on one of the benches and watched smiling at the little girl, it was both Hayden and Hope’s first experience of a proper kid’s party and they were rough housing with some of the other kids. Cue Wade and Russel carrying a large bucket and dumping it near the outskirts of the yard. He turned to watch them, very suspicious of the pranksters.

  “Water balloon fight!” Wade yelled as he picked up one and launched it directly at Hayden, she turned her head just in time to be splattered by a large volume of water right in her face; she gasped and looked at her form dripping with water.

“Oh it’s so on!” she ran forward towards the bucket, Wade ran as fast as he could before she got close and grabbed for a balloon, she threw it at the back of Wade’s head and he nearly fell over and she laughed loudly.

Soon the other kids began to join in and water was splashing everywhere, at some point even Colossus had joined, Nathan stayed where he was and watched his daughter’s smile and laughter grow in all the excitement.

  Out of nowhere a huge volume of water drench him from head to toe, he jumped from the sudden exposure and swivelled around to see who his assailant was, his face changed to that of disbelief when he saw Hayden grinning widely with a small bucket still held in her hands.

“Oh I’m so going to get you for that!” he grinned and she dropped the bucket before running as he chased after her.

“Catch me if you can sucker!” she responded as she quickened her pace, he was easily outmatched from her abilities giving her the upper hand, then an idea struck him and he stopped running to let her continue on.

She stopped running after a moment and realised that Nathan was no longer behind her, she frowned and scanned the yard for any signs of him, suddenly a warm pair of arms wrapped around her torso and she let out a shaky laugh.

“Got ya,” his rough voice spoke into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, Nathan grinned from ear to ear.

“You cheated,” she half-whined and turned in his arms to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she did so.

“Really now,” he asked raising a cheeky brow, “And you were running at a completely normal, human speed?”

“Totally,” she nodded and smiled cheekily.

                                  A buzzing electrical sound resonated from the centre of the yard and they turned their heads to see a blue glow emitting itself from thin air and forming a circle of sorts. Hayden let go of Nathan and they both stepped closer towards the unfamiliar thing.

“Wade, another party trick?” she asked glancing at him before taking another step closer to satisfy her curiosity.

“Nope, definitely not mine,” Wade shook his head, looking as confused as they were.

She walked up to the glowing blue portal-like thing that was now big enough to fit a normal person, she stopped just a few feet away and concentrated her violet eyes on it, her eyes widened and she promptly stepped back to find herself bumping it Nathan.

“What is it Haydes?” he asked raising his brows, holding his hands on both of her arms carefully, and glancing back between her and the portal, knowing that she was never one to freak out so easily.

“I- don’t know, I don’t-” she stammered as she stared at the thing, Nathan looked at it and noticed a dark figure was coming closer to the surface.

His right hand moved to his side and he twitched irritably upon realisation that his gun was back in their room, having believed that nothing would threaten his little girl’s birthday and letting himself relax for once, he regretted it severely now as he felt threatened somehow by this yet-to-exist enemy lurking towards them.

                           A plopping sound echoed and the figure was now setting foot on the yard, Nathan blinked his eyes in disbelief as he took in the woman standing just opposite them, she was the same height and build as Hayden standing by his side.

He looked back and forth between the two women and shook his head. They were exactly identical aside from their clothing, the one that had just stepped out from the portal had a deep scar across her left eye and wore a black tank top with black camouflage cargo pants, his arm instinctively tightened around the Hayden that stood next to him.

  “Hi honey,” the other Hayden said with an undeniable bitterness in her tone, and the angriest expression he had ever seen.

“Daddy, why are there two Haydens?” Hope asked from a distance away.

“Nathan, get her and you out of here, now. I’ve seen that look in me before,” Hayden spoke quickly.

His arm let go and he turned to the others, “Colossus, get all the kids and Hope inside, this could get ugly!”

“You as well Nathan,” Hayden urged him angrily with a shove to follow the others, her body slowly beginning to glow violet as agitation manoeuvred through her body, itching every nerve along its course.

  “No, let Nathan stay, the party’s just beginning,” the other Hayden said as Nathan refused to budge, he looked at her.

“What do you want?” Nathan asked.

                       “To end you,” her mouth twisted into a sadistic smile, “Your little clone in my universe is causing me too many problems for my liking, gave me this nasty little scar in fact, with this very knife,” she pulled the knife from her waist band and it glinted in the sunlight.

“Why not just kill the clone?” Hayden stepped in front of Nathan protectively, she was shorter than him and he could see clearly over her head, “Why go through all the trouble to come here to kill this one?”

The clone laughed lowly, “Eradicating the problem from the source is always the easier solution, aside from the fact that I’ve tried multiple times but the bastard, simply, won’t, die.” Her eyes flashed violet as she stared Nathan down, and she toyed with the knife in her fingers. “If I kill this Nathan Summers then his DNA simply can’t be used to create his clone,”

“But if we’re from a different universe, how are you clones of, us?” Hayden asked confused.

The clone rolled her eyes, “The government managed to obtain a sample of our DNA and wanted to keep it to help build a better future for those who suffer when the world goes to shit, which is when Nathan’s generation comes in, he was their best little soldier so when he died they took his DNA as well and cloned him too, still following?”

   Hayden gave the clone a look, and she continued her story, “So we, along with Nathan and some others were moved with the rest of civilisation to a new universe to serve as protectors, bringers of justice… blah, blah, blah,” she rolled her eyes, “What they didn’t realise is cloning won’t replicate the upbringing and thus, sweet little Nathan became corrupt and sought after whatever he could to gain power and money, whatever he desired really, and he killed anyone and everyone in the process of gaining for himself,”

“Sorry to break it you but you’re not touching a single hair on his head, I don’t care if you’re some version of me coming back to save yourself,”

The clone sheathed her weapon, “It’s a pity to hurt you in the process but I won’t hesitate to do just that,” she started walking forward and Hayden moved in sync to her steps as well.

They both raised their arms to strike at each other, and both raised their other arms in a defensive manner, managing to both attack and defend the other’s moves. They continued to swing blows and blocks for a good few moments before it became futile, they knew their own moves all too well.

  Nathan came closer and tried to step in the middle of the fight that had slowed down, Hayden turned to him glowing violet with fear for his safety, momentarily distracted, and the clone saw this as a window of opportunity to grab her throat and lift her into the air.

Hayden’s eyes flickered back to her natural blue and her skin paled, she gripped at the clone’s hand around her throat and gasped for air, unfamiliar with the feeling of being matched in her strength in a fight.

“Stay out of my way if you know what’s good for you,” the clone hissed before she plucked her knife from her side and drove it straight into Hayden’s stomach, twisting it to match the evil grin spreading in her features.

                               Hayden hadn’t even screamed. She simply made a gasping sound as she was released; she collapsed to the ground, curling into the foetal position panting wildly as her wound bled out profusely. Nathan’s eyes widened in horror as he watched his newfound love being brutally mutilated before him, and then watching as an almost exact version of her turned to face him, a murderous expression spread on her face.

  A face he had come to love.

________________________________________________________________

>> Chapter 32 <<

[brightlycoloredteacups]

Convention

Series: Run Into You

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Tagging: @salimahbicharara-comun @sammi-faye @ivartheboneme @tiyetiye

           At first, Tony hadn’t recognized her. Her black hair had been pinned neatly out of her made up face. She was wearing a dress, a powder blue color. Her shoes were sensible, close toed, not too high to wobble on, but nonetheless pretty.

           He once again struggled for her name. When he found it, he yelled it a little louder than he had intended. “Martina!” She jumped and looked around wide eyed. Who could possibly know her here? Her gaze landed on him. Dread didn’t cover her face when she spotted him, so he began to walk towards her. “Mr. Stark. We meet again.” She says, smiling. “What are you doing here?” He asked. Before he could kick himself, her smile widened. “I got invited.” She explained. She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Between you and me, the director of the convention knows someone I do odd jobs for. Mr. Wu managed to get tickets to the convention as payment for the roofing I did. This is so much better than I ever thought possible.” She giggled. He chuckled along with her. “I’ve been wanting to come to one of these things for years.” She continues, looking around. “I even got a pass to one of the panels. It’s only one, but it’s thrilling. Don’t you think so Mr. Stark?” Tony looked down at her frowning for a moment.

           He had to disagree with her. Usually, they had to beg him to come to one of these things. Nothing ever interested him here, the people that came were either too high on their own fucking horses or they were dull as rocks. He’d rather be in his lab, tinkering away. Something always needed improvement, something was always more important. But to Tina? To a girl who had nothing, this was an opportunity. Just one panel to sit on, just one chance to be here, for maybe an hour or two, just because she did a favor for someone. “You wanna see something really cool?” He asks. She looked at him and a mischievousness passed behind her eyes. “You won’t get in trouble, will you?” He snorted. “Please, I’m Iron Man.”

“So, you keep saying.” He takes her hand. “C’mon.” He mutters. She went with him willingly, wrapping her fingers around his hand. A small thrill went through him, but he didn’t stop for long to analyze it. He lead her down an endless maze of hallways, then ushered her into a room. “Hey, this isn’t open to the pub- oh! Mr. Stark!” A small man began to yell. He was short, and had wiry silver hair, brown, watery eyes were covered with coke-bottle glasses. Tony recognized the small man immediately. “You’re Dr. Steven Bloom.” Tina said reverently, before she could stop herself. Stark had worked with Bloom once or twice on projects. The man had a scientist’s crush on Tony, he knew. Now was the time to play this up. “Bloom, this is Martina,” He stalled for her last name. “She’d like to see your machine.” Tony urged. Bloom looked between them, blinking rapidly. “Of course, of course.” He said, smiled. “Come this way Ms. ah,”

“Just call me Martina.” She said, letting go of Tony’s hand and walking up to Bloom’s invention. Tony stood at the back, watching as she engaged with Bloom and his team. It was supposed to be a prototype hover car, inspired by Howard Stark’s flying car from the 1940s. Instead of using a propulsion system, Bloom was trying to use magnets. It would never get off the ground.

           He listened in on the conversation, interested in what Tina might say. Dr. Bloom was getting into his diatribe, same old tripe, but Tina seemed to follow along just fine. The old man stopped only once, suggesting that Tina didn’t want to hear about all the technical aspects of it. He obviously missed the look of irritation Tina gave him. She surprised him by explaining one of the greatest flaws in Dr. Bloom’s designs. Sure, it might float, but using the earth’s own magnetic field would be useless. The magnets weren’t strong enough to hold up an entire car. Besides, if the car didn’t have some propulsion system, it wouldn’t move forward, it would just sit there, floating a few inches off the ground.

           Bloom countered with making powerful enough magnets to detect earth’s own magnetic field blah, blah, blah, but she poked holes in that theory as well. It would mess with their equipment, and the readings would come out all wrong. Besides, that would be big and expensive magnets he’d need to use. Dr. Bloom got red in the face and blustered about, yelling at his assistants to figure something out. Tina backed out of the way, looking on curiously. “Do you think I upset him?” she had a small smile on her face. “They would have figured it out eventually.” Tony muttered, watching her watch the scientists. She was curious alright.

           It was then he noticed the way her dress hung loosely about her. She was still unhealthily skinny, no muscle development, arms still noodle like. “Wanna go poke more holes in other people’s projects.” He asks, smirking. This first time around had been so much fun. She worried her lips and looked at him. “God yes.” Tony grabbed her hand again and off they went.

           They spent most of the morning doing just that. Each time he stepped into the room, the Big Head in charge was surprised Tony Stark was there. Each time they were surprised Martina could keep up with them. Sometimes she poked holes in theories, other times, she helped stabilize a component or two on a machine, twice she had gotten into heated debates with other scientists that almost led to blows. It was all entertaining to Tony. She knew her stuff. He supposed she spent most of her time reading up on these things, by herself. Most of the scientists appreciated a captive audience. When she asked questions, she listened to the answers. They listened when she talked as well. She had the sort of prescence you couldn’t ignore, an importance about her that forced you’re your eyes to her face. He knew someone else like that, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

           When it came time for the panels in the afternoon, she was front and center. Tony sat on three of the panels, and she listened aptly. At one of the panels, at the end of the day, he couldn’t remember which one, but he was sure it was the biology one, she had asked tough questions. By the end of the day, he was wondering whether he should hire her or not. He was incredibly impressed.

           They came out of the last panel. Tina looking mighty pleased with herself. “That was fun. Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“Want dinner?” He asked. She shook her head. “No, sorry.” Before he could insist, he was swarmed with reporters. “Goodbye Mr. Stark!” She yelled over the cacophony, slipping away. He waded through the reporters, not in the mood to talk to them.

*

           That night, Tina was startled by a banging on her door. She opened it quickly to find James standing outside it. He looked amused. “You might want to see this.” He says. He leads her across the hall to his apartment and points to the television.

           It was Entertainment News. And there, as bright as day was Tony, and Tina, leaned over whispering to each other in a crowded room. Her face was obscured, but you could tell it was her by her dress. Now that she looked at it, it looked ugly on her, too loose, baggy. She looked entirely too skinny. “Today at Rose Hall’s Convention, the enigmatic Tony Stark was spotted with a new beau. No one got a good look at her, but reports say Tony and the new mystery girl were very close, despite his recent split with Secretary Pepper Potts. It seems his recent outing has only fueled the rumor mill. Is this the infamous woman the destroyed Tony’s first real relationship? Sources say this is likely. Stay tuned-” Tina shut the television off. “Oh my God.” She whispered. James but a hand on her shoulder. “Oh my God this is bad, this is so bad.”

“It’s not that bad.” James reassured her. “It could be a lot worse, they could’ve gotten a picture of your face.” Cold dread sunk deep into her stomach. “They didn’t say my name, did they?” She sounded panicky now. James frowned and looked at her, sensing her fear. “No, they didn’t. I just knew it was you because of the dress.” She ran her hands through her hair, panicked mind coming up with escape plans. Her lock box was all ready to go. There wasn’t anything vital she’d need to take with her, other than a few bottles of water and a bag of rice. She could go on the run at any moment.

           This though calmed her. She had everything she needed locked away in a tidy little hole if need be. She takes a deep breath. Right now, she’s going to play it safe. Right now, she’s going to stay home and wait out the course of events. If she needed to run, she would. This had to work out, she was awfully tired of running.