Too old for your fandom purity bullshit. I am not responsible for the content YOU CHOOSE to consume on the internet. Learn to block and blacklist what you don't want to see.
"I want children to suffer" is the ultimate flex by red-pilled conservative anti-feminist dorks who are equally racist when screeching about birth rates dropping.
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So! This is a perfect case study in situations where you should be wary of misinformation.
Take a moment and ask yourself, a project like this requires a lot of time, money and dedication of resources, why would scientists dedicate that time to something that could just be done by a tree?
The answer is they wouldn't. So that means this claim requires further investigation!
This project is called LIQUID 3, and it's not meant for cities with wide open spaces, it's meant for cities like Belgrade in Serbia. These cities are densely populated and heavily polluted, to the point where pollution actually chokes out current trees and makes creating green spaces difficult.
Liquid 3 was a PhD scientists answer to these problems. The microalgae tank is intended for spaces where you either:
Don't have enough space to plant full trees, or
Don't have enough time to plant trees and wait for them to grow up.
The tank is extremely efficient when you consider the amount of space needed compared to the amount of CO2 turned into oxygen. The tank can operate throughout the winter. And most importantly, it can be quickly set up in areas that desperately need relief from air pollution NOW not in 10 years when trees are done growing. Children currently suffocating on polluted air can't wait for trees to grow, they need to be taken care of now, and Liquid 3 is one of the ways to take care of them. Depending on the species of microalgea used, a number have shown a pretty amazing capacity to pull heavy metals out of the air which is something trees can get choked up by.
The tanks aren't just tanks either! Liquid 3 have solar panels placed on top, they have lighting and mobile phone charging, and they work as public benches. The designers of it want to encourage green spaces where there's room, but where there isn't room or time, Liquid 3 can step in. Realistically, this isn't a replacement for trees. It's replacing boring metal city benches with new, cooler benches that also clean the air (and have at least some heating during the winter).
Not only that, but the microalgea that grows is native to Serbia and all that microalgea has a ton of great uses! It makes for great fertilizer, compost, wastewater treatment, cleaner biofuels and even for helping create new tanks for further air purification. They only require a quick algae divide once a month, and the produced algae can be carted off to where ever it's needed. This makes them effective solutions for areas that can't sustain complex installations.
So yeah, there's actually quite a lot of places that would like these. Lots of people currently breathing in terrible quality air would much rather have their boring city benches replaced with really fucking cool algae tanks that clean the air and can be used to help create + sustain future green spaces in cities. I dunno about you, but I'd take that over a dumb metal bench any day. Put these at every bus stop and I'd be delighted.
Serbian here living in Belgrade! This is all true and I've actually seen some of these around the city a few times. They're amazing at what they do and really cool to watch up close because you can see pretty swirling inside them. It's not only functional but aesthetically pretty nice as well!
Hii I’m curious what if Tony’s gf (college student, isn’t great at school who needs a job after graduation) starts to work in his company/labs among other interns who’re in their 20’s too, but no one does anything about Tony’s dating the reader
The Intern Problem
Pairing: Tony Stark x Girlfriend F!Reader
Warning/Rating: 16+/Teen and Up; workplace romance, secret relationship with power dynamic complications (boss/intern), mild language, romantic/sensual scenes (kissing, physical affection, non-explicit references to intimacy), emotional vulnerability, relationship anxiety
Word Count: 4.1 K
The Stark Industries lobby is exactly as intimidating as you’d imagined - all glass and steel and holographic displays that probably cost more than your entire college tuition. You clutch your visitor badge like a lifeline, trying to ignore the way your stomach twists itself into increasingly complex knots.
You’ve got this, you tell yourself. You’re dating Tony Stark. You belong here.
Except the first part is supposed to make the second part easier, and right now it’s doing the exact opposite.
“New interns, follow me.” A crisp woman in a Stark Industries lab coat gestures toward the elevator bank. “Mr. Stark will meet with you in Lab 7 for orientation.”
Your heart does something complicated. You’d seen Tony just last night, curled up on his penthouse couch with your feet in his lap while he absently sketched improvements to the arc reactor technology on a holographic display. He’d kissed you goodbye at 2 AM with promises of “trying not to be too hard on you tomorrow” that you’d assumed were joking.
The elevator ride up feels like ascending to your own execution.
Lab 7 is a cathedral of technology - workstations arranged in a semicircle around a central demonstration area, holographic displays floating like digital ghosts, and enough computing power to probably run a small country. And there, standing at the center of it all in a Black Sabbath t-shirt and jeans that probably cost more than your car, is Tony.
He doesn't look at you.
"Welcome to the part of Stark Industries where we actually do things," Tony announces, his voice carrying that particular blend of arrogance and charm that makes him either insufferable or irresistible depending on the day. "I'm Tony Stark, but you knew that. You're here because someone thought you were smart enough not to blow up my lab. Let's see if they were right."
His eyes sweep over the group of six interns, pausing on each face for a fraction of a second. When they land on you, there's nothing - no warmth, no recognition, no secret smile. Just the same calculating assessment he'd given everyone else before moving on.
Your chest tightens.
"Marcus Robertson, MIT." A tall guy with perfectly styled hair steps forward, radiating confidence. "Graduated top of my class in mechanical engineering."
"Congratulations on being exactly like everyone else here," Tony says dryly. "Next."
"Zara O’Neil, Caltech, dual degree in computer science and electrical engineering." A woman with box braids and sharp eyes smiles slightly. "I've been following your work on miniaturized arc reactor technology since I was sixteen."
"Stalker. I like it. Next."
One by one, the interns introduce themselves - a parade of impressive credentials and prestigious schools. And then it's your turn, and Tony's eyes are on you again, still completely neutral.
"Um." Your voice comes out smaller than you'd intended. You clear your throat. "I'm… well, you can call me - I graduated from State with a degree in biomedical engineering. I know it's not MIT or Caltech, but I -"
"Your GPA?" Tony interrupts.
Heat floods your face. "3.4."
Something flickers across his expression, too fast to read. "And you're here because...?"
Because you told me I was brilliant. Because you said I had an intuitive understanding of systems thinking that most engineers never develop. Because three weeks ago you said you loved me.
"Because I work hard," you say instead, lifting your chin. "And I want to learn."
For a long moment, Tony just looks at you. Then he turns away.
"Right. Well, let's see if any of you can actually do anything useful." He gestures to the workstations. "You'll each be assigned a project. Try not to disappoint me too quickly."
The rest of orientation passes in a blur of technical specifications and lab safety protocols that you barely absorb. Tony doesn't look at you again. Doesn't single you out. Doesn't give you any indication that you're anything other than another intern he'll probably forget about by next week.
When you're finally dismissed, you linger, hoping -
"Was there something else?" Tony asks without turning around, his attention on a holographic schematic.
"I just - no. Nothing." You swallow hard. "Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Stark."
"Don't thank me yet. You haven't seen your assignment."
You leave before he can see the tears prickling at your eyes.
If you'd thought the first day was bad, the rest of the week is systematically worse.
Tony assigns you to his direct projects - which should be exciting, except it means working under his constant, critical scrutiny. Every calculation is questioned. Every design choice is challenged. Every suggestion is met with a raised eyebrow and some variation of "Is that really your best work?"
By Wednesday, you're ready to scream.
"The thermal dissipation model is off," Tony says, not looking up from his own work as he reviews your latest submission on a holographic display. The other interns are scattered around the lab, pretending not to listen. "Run it again."
"I've run it three times," you say, trying to keep your voice level. "The numbers are solid."
"The numbers are adequate. I don't do adequate." He flicks the display toward you with a casual gesture. "Again."
Marcus glances over from his workstation, smirking slightly. Zara catches your eye and makes a subtle yikes face.
You want to throw something. Preferably at Tony's head.
"Of course, Mr. Stark," you say with exaggerated politeness. "I'll get right on that."
"See that you do." He finally looks at you, and for just a second - less than a heartbeat - something warm flickers in his eyes. Then it's gone. "And next time, check your assumptions before you waste my time."
That night, he texts you: I'm sorry. This is harder than I thought.
By Friday, the other interns have definitely noticed something is off.
"Is it just me," Marcus says during their lunch break, "or is Stark riding her harder than the rest of us?"
"It's not just you," another intern confirms. "He barely looked at my thermal analysis, but he made her redo hers four times."
Zara hums thoughtfully, her eyes tracking to where you sit alone at a corner table, picking at a salad you have no appetite for. "Maybe he sees potential."
"Or maybe he's just an asshole," Marcus mutters.
In the lab that afternoon, Tony is explaining a modification to the arc reactor housing when you make the mistake of suggesting an alternative approach.
"What if we used a hexagonal configuration instead of circular?" you offer, pulling up a quick sketch on your tablet. "It might distribute the stress more evenly across the -"
"Did I ask for alternatives?" Tony interrupts.
The lab goes quiet.
You feel your face flush. "No, but I thought -"
"That's your problem. You're thinking when you should be listening." He dismisses your sketch with a wave. "The circular configuration is optimal. If you'd actually run the stress analysis instead of jumping to conclusions, you'd know that."
"I did run the analysis," you say, your voice tight. "The hexagonal design shows a 12% improvement in -"
"Show me."
You pull up your calculations, hands shaking slightly with anger and humiliation. Tony studies them in silence, his expression unreadable. The other interns watch like spectators at a tennis match.
Finally, he nods. "Fine. It's not terrible."
"Not terrible?" You can't help yourself. "It's a significant improvement."
"It's adequate," Tony corrects, his tone sharp. "Don't confuse competent work with brilliance, Ms. -" He catches himself, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. "Just... run with the hexagonal design. And try not to be so defensive about your work. It's unbecoming."
He walks away before you can respond, leaving you standing there with your tablet and your anger and the uncomfortable weight of five other interns' stares.
Zara appears at your elbow a moment later. "Hey. Don't let him get to you. He's like that with everyone."
"He's not, though," you say quietly. "He's like that with me."
The break room coffee is terrible, but you need the caffeine more than you need dignity at this point. It's late afternoon on the following Monday, and you've spent the last six hours rebuilding a prototype that Tony had literally taken apart in front of you, piece by piece, explaining everything you'd done wrong.
You're contemplating the relative merits of quitting versus committing justifiable homicide when Marcus walks in.
"Hey," he says, his tone carefully casual. "Can we talk?"
You suppress a sigh. "Sure."
Marcus pours himself coffee, taking his time. "Look, I'm just going to say it. What's your deal with Stark?"
Your stomach drops. "I don't have a deal with…"
"Come on." He turns to face you, leaning against the counter. "He's all over your work. You're on every one of his direct projects. He spends more time critiquing your designs than anyone else's. Either you've got some kind of connection, or he's got it out for you, and I can't figure out which."
"He doesn't have it out for me," you say carefully. "He's just... thorough."
"He's something." Marcus's eyes narrow. "The rest of us are busting our asses for a fraction of his attention, and you're getting private tutorials on arc reactor design. So either you're sleeping with him, or -"
"Or what?" Tony's voice cuts through the room like a knife.
You both spin around. Tony stands in the doorway, his expression dangerously neutral, a coffee mug dangling from his fingers.
"Mr. Stark," Marcus stammers. "I didn't - I was just -"
"Just speculating about my intern's sex life?" Tony steps into the room, and despite his casual posture, there's something predatory about the movement. "Bold choice. Let's see how that works out for you."
"I didn't mean…"
"Here's a thought, Marcus." Tony's voice is pleasant, which somehow makes it worse. "Instead of worrying about why I'm paying attention to someone else's work, maybe focus on making your own work worth paying attention to. Your thermal coupling design yesterday was pedestrian at best. The stress analysis was full of holes. And your presentation skills could bore a caffeinated squirrel into a coma."
Marcus's face goes red. "That's not -"
"Fair? You want to talk about fair?" Tony takes a sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving Marcus's face. "You got into this program because you had good grades and a fancy degree. She got in because when I interviewed her, she saw a problem with the repulsor stabilization system that my own engineers missed. So maybe, just maybe, the reason I'm 'all over her work' is because she's actually worth the effort."
The silence that follows is deafening.
You stare at Tony, your heart doing complicated things in your chest. He'd interviewed dozens of candidates. He'd never told you that you were the reason you got the position - you'd assumed it was nepotism, a favor to his girlfriend, a way to help you out after graduation.
"Now get out of my break room," Tony says quietly. "And Marcus? If I hear you making implications about any of my interns again, you'll be designing coffee makers in R&D for the rest of your very short career here. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir." Marcus practically flees.
Tony waits until his footsteps fade before turning to you. For a moment, neither of you speak. Then -
"You okay?" he asks, his voice softer.
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.
"Good." He sets down his coffee mug. "For the record, your thermal dissipation model from Wednesday was actually brilliant. I just needed you to be sure of it."
Then he leaves, leaving you alone with terrible coffee and the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry.
Zara corners you in the bathroom twenty minutes later.
"So," Zara says, leaning against the sink with a knowing smile. "How long have you been dating him?"
You nearly drop your phone. "What? I'm not - we're not -"
"Please." Zara rolls her eyes. "I have three brothers and a very dramatic mother. I know what 'trying way too hard to pretend you don't care' looks like. Also, the way he looked at Marcus just now? That wasn't a boss defending an intern. That was a boyfriend about two seconds from committing murder."
Your shoulders sag. "Is it that obvious?"
"To me? Yes. To Marcus and the others? No, they're too busy being intimidated and self-absorbed." Zara grins. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. I just think it's hilarious."
"Hilarious?"
"Oh, come on. Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, trying to act professional around his girlfriend? It's like watching someone try to defuse a bomb while pretending they're not terrified. The man looks at you like you hung the moon, and then catches himself and overcompensates by being a dick. It's actually kind of adorable."
Despite everything, you feel yourself smile. "He's not that bad."
"He made you redo a thermal analysis four times."
"Okay, he's a little bad."
Zara laughs. "Look, I get why you're keeping it quiet. The optics are weird, the power dynamic is complicated, blah blah blah. But for what it's worth? You're good at this. Like, actually good. Whatever's happening between you two, you earned your spot here."
It's exactly what you need to hear.
"Thanks, Zara."
"Anytime. Now come on, we've got a meeting in five minutes, and I want to see if Stark spontaneously combusts from trying not to stare at you."
The lab is quiet at 9 PM, the other interns long gone. You'd stayed late to finish the hexagonal housing prototype, partly because you want to prove it will work, and partly because you're not ready to face Tony outside of work yet.
You're so focused on the delicate wiring that you don't hear him approach.
"You're going to fry the circuit if you connect it that way," Tony says from directly behind you.
You jump, nearly dropping the soldering iron. "Jesus, Tony! Wear a bell or something."
"Where's the fun in that?" But he's smiling - really smiling, the way he does when it's just the two of you. He reaches around you to adjust the circuit board. "Here. The polarity needs to be reversed on this connection."
His chest is warm against your back. You can smell his cologne, familiar and comforting after a week of professional distance.
"I missed you," you say quietly.
His hands still. Then he turns you around to face him, his expression soft in a way it never is during work hours.
"I missed you too," he admits. "This week has been... I'm sorry. I thought I could separate work and personal, but apparently I'm just an asshole who takes it out on the person he cares about most."
"You're not an asshole." You pause. "Okay, you're a little bit of an asshole."
"Wow. Brutal." But he's grinning, his hands settling on your waist. "For the record, you're doing amazing work. The hexagonal design is genuinely innovative. I just can't say that in front of the others because -"
"Because it looks like favoritism."
"Because it looks like favoritism," he agrees. "Even though you're legitimately the most talented intern I've had in years. Which is saying something, because I've had some pretty impressive interns."
You raise an eyebrow. "Did you just compliment me, Tony Stark?"
"Don't let it go to your head." He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. "How are you really doing? Marcus was out of line today."
"Marcus is an idiot." You lean into him, finally letting yourself relax. "But he's not wrong about the optics. Everyone's noticed that you're harder on me than anyone else."
"Would you prefer I be easier on you?"
"No," you admit. "I want to earn this. I want to be here because I'm good, not because I'm sleeping with the boss."
"You are good." His voice is firm. "You're here because when I asked you about the repulsor stabilization problem, you didn't just give me a textbook answer. You thought about it, really thought about it, and came up with something I hadn't considered. That's not something you can teach. That's instinct."
You feel your throat tighten. "You never told me that."
"I'm telling you now." He presses a kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry this week was hard. I'm sorry I made it harder. I just… I don't know how to do this. The whole 'dating someone who works for me' thing. It's new territory."
"For both of us." You pull back to look at him. "Maybe we need to find a middle ground. You can't treat me like a stranger, Tony. It's killing me."
"It's killing me too," he confesses. "Every time you look at me like I've hurt you, I want to -" He breaks off, jaw tight. "I never want to be the reason you look like that."
"Then stop being such a perfectionist about hiding us." You cup his face, making him meet your eyes. "We don't have to announce it to the world, but we can't keep pretending we're nothing to each other. It's not sustainable."
He's quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing absent patterns on your hip. "You're right. As usual. It's extremely annoying."
"I know." You smile. "It's one of my best qualities."
"Among many." He kisses you then, soft and sweet and full of apology. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm. "How about this: at work, I'm your boss. I'll push you because you're capable of being pushed. But I'll also remember that you're not just another intern. You're -"
"Your girlfriend who's going to kick your ass if you make her redo another thermal analysis four times?"
"I was going to say 'the person I'm falling in love with,' but sure, that works too."
Your heart stops. "Tony…"
"Too much?" He looks suddenly uncertain, vulnerable in a way Tony Stark rarely allows himself to be. "Too soon? I can take it back. Pretend I said something about your excellent soldering technique instead."
"Don't you dare take it back." You kiss him again, harder this time, pouring a week's worth of frustration and longing and love into it. "I love you too, you impossible man."
"Impossible? I prefer 'charmingly complex.'"
"You're a nightmare."
"Your nightmare." He grins against your lips. "Come on, let's get out of here. I have a penthouse and a bottle of wine with your name on it."
"What about the prototype?"
"Will still be here tomorrow." He laces his fingers through yours. "Tonight, I just want to be with my girlfriend without worrying about who's watching."
You let him pull you toward the elevator, feeling lighter than you have all week.
Pepper Potts catches you in the hallway the next morning.
"Walk with me," Pepper says, and it isn't a request.
You walk in silence to Pepper's office - all glass walls and minimalist furniture and a view of the city that probably costs more than most people's houses. Pepper gestures to a chair and closes the door.
"I know about you and Tony," Pepper says without preamble.
Of course she does. Pepper knows everything.
"Ms. Potts, I -"
"Pepper, please." She sits down across from you, her expression serious but not unkind. "Look, I'm not here to lecture you. Tony's personal life is his own business, and you're both adults. But I need you to understand the position this puts you in. Both of you."
You nod, your stomach sinking.
"If this relationship becomes public knowledge while you're working here, there will be questions," Pepper continues. "About favoritism, about your qualifications, about whether you earned your position or were given it. It won't matter that you're legitimately talented - people will assume the worst."
"I know," you say quietly. "We've talked about it."
"Have you talked about what happens if it doesn't work out?" Pepper's voice is gentle but firm. "If you break up, you'll still have to work together. That's not easy."
"We're not going to break up."
"You can't know that." Pepper leans forward. "I'm not trying to be pessimistic. I'm trying to be realistic. I've known Tony for a long time, and I care about him. I also care about protecting this company and everyone who works here. That includes you."
You meet Pepper's eyes. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying be careful. Both of you. Maintain professional boundaries at work. Don't give people ammunition to use against you. And if it becomes too complicated, if the relationship starts affecting your work or his judgment, you need to be prepared to make hard choices."
It's everything you've been afraid of hearing, but Pepper's tone isn't cruel. It's concerned. Protective, even.
"I understand," you say.
Pepper's expression softens slightly. "For what it's worth, I think you're good for him. Tony needs someone who challenges him, who doesn't let him get away with his bullshit. Just... be smart about it. Okay?"
"Okay."
As you leave Pepper's office, you feel the weight of reality settling back onto your shoulders. This isn't just a relationship. It's a complication, a risk, a potential disaster waiting to happen.
But when you think about Tony - about the way he looks at you when no one else is watching, about the way he pushes you to be better, about the way he'd defended you to Marcus - you know it's worth it.
You'll just have to figure out how to make it work.
Not perfect - nothing involving Tony Stark is ever perfect, but better. He still critiques your work, still pushes you harder than the other interns, but there's a warmth beneath it now. A respect that the others can see.
"Nice work on the stabilization algorithm," Tony says during a team meeting, and you feel the other interns' surprise. "It's efficient and elegant. That's the kind of thinking I want to see from all of you."
Marcus looks like he's swallowed something sour, but he nods grudgingly. Zara catches your eye and winks.
After the meeting, Tony lingers as the others file out. When you're alone, he smiles - small and private and just for you.
"Dinner tonight?" he asks quietly.
"Your place or mine?"
"Mine. I'm cooking."
"You're ordering takeout, you mean."
"I'm having someone cook and then taking credit for it," he corrects. "There's a difference."
You laugh, and it feels good. Easy. Like you're finally figuring out how to be both colleagues and partners without losing your minds.
That night, in his penthouse with the city lights spread out below you like a carpet of stars, Tony pulls you onto the couch and wraps his arms around you.
"Thank you," he says into your hair.
"For what?"
"For being patient with me. For being brilliant. For not quitting when I was being an asshole." He presses a kiss to your temple. "For loving me even though I'm a disaster."
"You're my disaster," you say, echoing his words from weeks ago.
"Forever?"
You pull back to look at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, the hope, the fear. Tony Stark, genius and superhero and impossible man, afraid you might say no.
"Forever," you promise.
He kisses you then, soft and deep and full of promise. Outside, the city hums with life. Inside, you have everything you need.
It isn't perfect. It isn't easy. But it's yours, and that's enough.
Later, much later, when you're tangled together in his bed with the sheets twisted around you and your head on his chest, Tony speaks into the darkness.
"You know what the worst part of this whole thing was?"
"What?"
"Pretending I didn't know you. Looking at you like you were just another intern when you're -" He pauses, his hand tracing patterns on your shoulder. "When you're everything."
Your heart squeezes. "You're everything too, Tony."
"I know. I'm a catch." But his voice is soft, vulnerable. "I'm serious, though. I don't want to hide you. I don't want to pretend you're not the best part of my day. But I also don't want to make things harder for you."
"So we find a balance," you say. "We're professional at work. We're us everywhere else. And eventually, when the internship is over and I'm a full employee, we can be more open about it."
"You're staying?" He sounds surprised. "After everything?"
"Of course I'm staying." You prop yourself up to look at him. "Tony, I love this job. I love the work. I love being challenged. And I love you, you idiot. Why would I leave?"
He pulls you down for a kiss that tastes like relief and joy and promise.
"I love you too," he murmurs against your lips. "My brilliant, patient, way-too-good-for-me girlfriend."
"Don't forget 'devastatingly attractive.'"
"That goes without saying." He grins. "Also 'humble.'"
You smack his chest lightly, and he laughs, the sound warm and genuine and perfect.
Outside, the city sleeps. Inside, you hold each other close, two people figuring out how to build something real in the complicated space between professional and personal, between genius and heart, between Tony Stark and the woman who loves him.
There is rioting and mass panic and for weeks, months the world is so dangerous but one day Iron Man saves you.
To the world, you’re no one. You’re trying to make sense of how more than half of the world is just gone.
Tony has lost so much. He’s spiraling, knowing that he’s doing everything he can but it’s not enough and then he saves you. A shining beacon in the darkness.
He saves you, and he’s going to make sure you stay saved, because that’s his mission now, and he’s not gonna fail again.
she's running out the door | creep
post-infinity war! yandere! tony stark x reader
a/n: cannot sleep so we’re answering this now. @couldntbedamned i love the way ur brain works and we’re mutuals now (i mean if u want to ofc)
tw: drinking, infinity-war, dead-peter mentions, yandere tony stark things, small mentions of reader having a gun (self defense)
wordcount: 1.7K
synopsis: tony just wants to feel like he's protecting something. you remind him too much of everything he's lost— pepper, peter, steve, the list goes on. if he couldn't hold onto them, he sure as hell is making sure he holds on tight to you.
Tony loses Peter and he isolates. He’s cut off Pepper. He’s cut off Steve, though that ship sailed a while ago. He’s even cut off Bruce, despite all the rings and calls he’s been getting. And Rhodey had been too busy anyways, cleaning things up with the military and trying to help get the country back to being functional. Every now and then he’ll leave a text to Tony, and Tony will respond with the little honesty and energy he can muster up.
Most of the time he sits alone in that lakeside cabin he bought a couple years back when he got engaged to Pepper. Peter was there for that, just down the hallway when Tony decided he wanted something to protect again, he wanted a family.
Tony is less disallusioned now. He sits here in the woods. He thinks about Peter crumbling to dust in his arms and he stops thinking all together.
The liquor in the house has been run empty. All the expensive whiskies he bought in vain have been sucked dry in his grief. It's been one cup after the other, and his stomach has gone dry and his blood thinned out by the copious amounts. He doesn't want to be clear headed, he wants his limbs as heavy as his heart feels, so one bottle after the other, they've all gone dry.
He pulls on some glasses and a hoodie, grabbing some cash and the willpower to get out of the house… to buy more drinks, yes, but baby steps.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that the world has gone rampant. Riots in the streets, thievery and crime at an all time high. Doesn’t help when half the police force has died, of course.
No wonder everyone’s busy lately, Tony thought to himself as he drove out of the bubble of his land, secured by an electric field, allowing nothing mundane as a human to get through by land, lake, or air. Tony was completely closed off from the world. Cause everyone’s gone batshit.
He drove up to the nearby small tow, all the essentials in the narrow strip of homes and mom-and-pop shops that neighbored the expanse of protected national park around them. Their population wasn’t pitiful, but small enough that faces stuck around. But after the— fuck he couldn’t even think about it without having to calm himself down — the snap, the numbers got smaller. Families had a rougher time getting by, if they could still say they had much of a family left.
Tony parked at the front of the small general essentials store, walking in already towards the liquid gold chilled in the back. He grabbed four bottles of the heaviest shit he could find in the dwindling selection, dumping other drinks beside his basket and whatever else allured his eyes. Usually, places like his never ran out of alcohol unless it was the fourth of July, but ever since the snap, alcohol stocks have hit the bank. Everyone wants to drown their sorrow. And unfortunately, it's literally everyone.
He walked to the girl at the front, when he finally blinked and took her in.
She was doing flight calculations. Huh.
He recognized the diagrams and equations of course, he’s done them a million times. Like peter used to.
Woah, woah, pause. Where did Peter come from?
Tony doesn’t know where the comparison budded, but he blinked and shook his head because he started picking at the differences to forget how the thought of Peter put an ache in his chest.
The girl was much older than Peter, and the work she was doing was much more advanced. Perhaps undergraduate? Perhaps masters? Perhaps she simply had a niche interest in the subject matter? Regardless, tony’s lips found themselves quirking up at the sight unintentionally, especially when she sighed in frustration and crossed out a failed derivation, rewriting the mathematics to retrace her steps.
Beside her was a stalk of books. Some sci-fi novels, mostly Andy Weir, and some research writings, mostly about time and black holes. Classic astrophysics and astronomy.
Peter really liked astrophysics and astronomy. This woman was still nothing like peter.
Peter could take care of himself, hell, the boy could bench a building. Peter dove head first into every conflict because Peter was young, real gung-ho about every crime, ready to fight the world himself. It was the kind of confidence that Tony adored about Peter, but it was only possible because Peter was a kid.
She was definitely not a kid and it was evident by the way Tony’s body felt hot under his sweater when she looked up and dropped her pencil at the sight of a customer— her clothing tugging on her skin and curves and Tony hasn’t really seen another woman in so long. Her eyes nervously assessed him up and down, other hand no doubtably gripping an emergency firearm under the desk. It was the kind of anxiousness that reminded him of Pepper. She was strong, of course she had to be when everything around her was world ending because she stuck it out with Tony (up until she didn't), but Pepper didn't start out that way. She used to be scared. Real scared, like she was terrified of the danger and the explosions and loud sounds.
“H-hi, how may I help you?” She asked, still shaking like a leaf.
Tony must have looked out of his mind, he mused to himself. sunglasses. slight beard growing in. ratty dark clothing. a dead on stare at her. Old bandages and injuries from space. And a basket full of liquor bottles that kept clinking against each other with every step he took. He looked like he might hurt her. And recently, it’s how the entire world has been like.
“Just this,” Tony said, hoping his attempt to be less rough with his voice would sooth her worry about being robbed. He placed the case of liquor on the table, careful to avoid her stack of papers.
“Right! Right, uhm, here, then,” She nodded, quickly shoving her papers away alongside her books and took out the scanner, picking up the first bottle.
"No need to ask me for ID?" Tony teased lightly, ruffling through his pockets for his cash while keeping his attention on her while she went through his assortment of alcohol.
"L-Look I don't want any uh, trouble," She nodded, avoiding his eye.
Tony paused, tilting his head incredulously, "Now why would you be looking for trouble for asking ID on alcohol purchases? Last time I checked, the law still applied."
"You uh, never know. People just want alcohol these days, don't really care about anything other than that," She nodded distantly, her movements robotic and scared. "Your total is two hundred twenty five, point fifty-six. Uhm, cash or card?"
"Cash," he answered, counting out three hundred dollar bills, and handing them to her. "Keep the change."
"Wow, ok," She said, nodding and putting it away quickly, like she was worried he would change his mind. "Thank you. Uhm. Have a nice day."
"You too," Tony nodded, taking the alcohol in her outstretched hand. "Take care, yeah?"
The girl nodded, confused why he was concerned for her. It reminded him of Pepper, again, the look she used to have when they first started working together and she couldn't fathom why Tony would care about her. "Yeah. Thank you."
And then Tony turned away, walking out of the store. He could hear the scratch of her pencil back on it's calculations as he left.
────۶ৎ────
It was ridiculously easy. Really, it really was too easy.
Tony couldn't get her out of his head. Despite the hangover and the aching body protesting his movements after weeks of lounging around, he was running around inventing again. Within the hour, he had gotten her full name, government profile, and all the available information regarding her.
Fuck. It was like he was going crazy. She was like them. Like everyone he let slip through his fingers, so like a madman possessed by his desperation to keep those he loves close to him, he wasn't going to let her slip past his fingers.
If Rhodey was there to stop him, he would drag him away from the locks in the cabin that Tony was swapping out with reinforced nanotechnology, calling Tony a crazy bastard while at it. If Pepper was there, she would remind him with an exasperated voice that he can't control the world from his lab. If Steve was there, he would tell Tony with a firm furrow in his brows that sometimes life takes things that you can't force back into your arms. If... If Peter was there, he would look curiously at Tony's disheveled state and ask, "What's going on, Mr. Stark?"
The truth is, Tony doesn't get it either. To the world she's a nobody. She's a lowly girl that works in a forgotten town in a general store— but Tony can't seem to pull his eyes away. He doesn't understand.
So one day, she's walking back after her shift, closing down the store. The streets are quiet. Her hand is still on her gun, god, you couldn't even hold it properly, you were so scared and you didn't know what to do. Tony knows, he knows the world has been unfair, it's been threatening, and it's been dangerous. And Tony will not let anything like death mangle someone from his fingertips again, he won't let it happen.
She almost trips on the same crack on the sidewalk again, quickly recovering herself and checking around her in paranoia. She does it every night he's watched her walk back home.
She's adorable. Young, scared, wide eyed and trying to be tough. And Tony wants that. He's rotten, so rotten he feels like his skin will stain everything he touches like ink in a vat of milk. So rotten he thinks that he'll spoil anything close to him, but he still wants. He wants, oh god, he wants like he's wanted nothing before.
And this time, just this one time, he doesn't want to let them her slip through his fingers.
(He doesn't want to let them run out the door on him every again.)
Can we get a part two of this https://www.tumblr.com/airas-story/818269079053942784/kind-of-loving-the-idea-of-stephen-showing-up-to
Sequel to this one.
Stephen waited smugly as Tony examined the diagrams Stephen had put together. Tony’s lips were growing increasingly pursed, which was a clear precursor to Tony having to acknowledge that Stephen was right.
Finally, Tony looked away from Stephen’s suggestion, giving Stephen one of his all-right-so-maybe-you-were-right glares that was always accompanied by something heated in Tony’s eyes that set Stephen’s gut alight with fireworks. “JARVIS, save the files, I still think there’s room for improvement, but Stephen’s right, this stent insertion method is better than my initial idea was.”
Stephen leaned back in his chair, grabbing his glass as he did. They’d met together over lunch in Tony’s home and Tony had provided excellent alcohol to go with their fettuccine alfredo. “You really should start getting used to me being right,” Stephen said. “This is what, two for two?”
Tony’s eyes narrowed; Stephen smirked.
“Have you signed that consulting contract yet?” Tony asked, the question catching Stephen by surprise. “This is, what, our third meeting? They’re offering you enough, aren’t they?”
Honestly, they were offering Stephen what almost felt like too much. Not that Stephen didn’t plan on proving that he was worth every penny, but even as a successful neurosurgeon who wasn’t a stranger to money, what SI was offering him was… exorbitant. “Not yet,” Stephen admitted. Although he wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t, yet. He was normally more prompt than that.
Tony just watched him a little longer, before standing. “Wait here. JARVIS, print out that contract I talked to you about.” He didn’t wait for Stephen to answer, instead stalking out of the room muttering something under his breath that Stephen probably wasn’t supposed to hear, given the words ”—insufferable, impossible, perfect, idiotic man,” were included in the muttered diatribe. It was three parts insult one part praise, but Stephen was pretty sure the ‘perfect’ absolutely overrode any insult in the rest of it.
Tony liked Stephen just fine.
And Stephen had to admit that he’d gotten comfortable with Tony… alarmingly fast. Their first meeting had lasted the entire day—Tony had provided both lunch and dinner—as Tony had gone through every single idea that Stephen had sent over, just as invested as Stephen himself was. Yes, when Stephen had practically barged his way into SI’s hiring process, it was because he had known that SI really was the best, but he hadn’t really expected to end up in front of Tony Stark himself, just to find that Tony was even smarter than everyone had claimed. And better, he somehow seemed to actually care about just how much all of Stephen’s ideas could help people. Stephen had expected that.
To say Stephen was a little charmed was… understating it.
Tony strode back into the room, still muttering to himself. He dropped a small pile of papers in front of Stephen. “Before you sign that contract, you should consider this one.”
Stephen blinked, a little surprised—and entirely confused. He looked down at the contract, but barely managed the first paragraph before he jerked his head back up so he could stare at Tony. “Is this a prenup?” he asked.
“JARVIS drafted it after I complained for the fifth time that I couldn’t marry you if you worked for me.”
Stephen stared at him, trying to wrap his mind around this insanity. “Well, this would solve that problem,” he acknowledged. Being Tony’s partner and not his employee. Something else caught his attention. “JARVIS approves?” He found himself feeling inordinately pleased about that.
Tony stared at him for a long moment. “Are you asking—” He looked up at the ceiling, then back down at Stephen. “Okay, it was one thing when you were one of the most brilliant people I’ve met, when you were snarky and had the best banter, when you were so glaringly attractive it’s amazing people don’t end up blind. But now you also recognize that JARVIS is, in fact, the most important opinion in my life? Will you just put me out of my misery and marry me already?”
OceanGate, the deep-sea exploration company that created the Titan submersible, has removed its Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and LinkedIn a
poor things, well we should definitely make this easier on them by never repeatedly mentioning their name and deeds on the "reblog things forever" website
baratheonpilled
snowghoul
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
yousharknotpass
