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kayssweetdreams · 1 year

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Maestro Hiccups 3: Chaos Incarnate Ch 34

You give a groan as you thrust the cape at Jackle "FINE! But if you're lying, I'm throwing this thing in a shredder!" You yell. Jackle's eyes light up as takes his cape, and throws it onto his body.

"OK! Follow me visitor!" He yelled, zooming off. NiGHTS quickly dualizes with you and the two of you fly as fast as you can away from the tumbling pillar. Both you and NiGHTS let out a sigh of relief "Phew...That was TOO close." NiGHTS says. "You can say that again...where are the others?" You ask. "I think that they went that way...but we still need to make sure that Jackle doesn't try anything." NiGHTS says.

Your eyes narrow as you nodded, hoping to find the invisible maren before he got TOO far. The two of you flew off in search of Jackle, as well as Leo, Emma and Owl, when you stumbled upon all 4 of them. Or rather...Jackle was threatening the three of them for Ideya. Acting quickly, NiGHTS dove down, and snagged Jackle by his cape, ripping it off him once more, as his invisible body spun around. "Jackle...we had a deal." You say through NiGHTS, Holding the cape away from him.

Jackle summoned one of his cards "GIVE THAT BACK!" He shouts, however, you hold the cape in front of you as a shield, "No. You launch one of your cards at us, it's gonna cut through the cape. So unless you want this thing back in more than one piece, you'll keep your word, and get us through Nightmare." NiGHTS threatened, a cheeky smile on their face. Jackle's mouth contorted into an angered frown, his hand just TEMPTED to throw the razor sharp card at you, but he couldn't at the risk of losing his cape.

Realizing he had no other choice, Jackle let a loud, and defeated sigh, before he crossed his arms and stomped like a little kid "FINE! I'll take you through Nightmare!" He shouts, as you hold the cape away from his grasp. NiGHTS gives a smile before the two of you split apart, and you run over to Leo, Emma and Owl. "You guys alright?" You ask "We are now...Jackle was gonna ambush us!" Emma shouted. "He was after our Ideya, and we were lucky enough that you were able to catch his cape." Leo explained.

"Well, on the bright side, Jackle is gonna get us through Nightmare, so we can find Aria and Debbie." You say. "Hoo! You're actually trusting Jackle?" Owl asked "Well, kinda...We do have his cape, so he has to do it to get it back." You say. "Well keep a close eye on that cape visitor, Jackle will use every trick he has to get it back. Hoo..." Owl says. You get worried about Owl's words, as you all go to exit the Nightopia, and head into the dark sea, when a familiar tidal wave of magic is seen in the distance.

"Oh no! Incoming!!" You shout, hoping behind the door. Leo, Emma and Owl follow your lead, but NiGHTS and Jackle were caught in the crossfire as they were immediately hit by Balan's crazy, reality warping magic. You peek out from behind the door to see what has happened to NiGHTS, and you discovered that NiGHTS now looked like a extravagant ringmaster, complete with a purple, star-studded top hat. "Wow...NiGHTS, You look incredible." Leo says in awe.

NiGHTS however doesn't share the sentiment, as they feel for the jester cap that was on their head earlier "M-My horns! They're gone!" They shout in a oddly autotuned voice. "Hoo! Jackle is gone too!" Owl exclaimed. "You featherhead! I'm down here!" Jackle shouts from below you. You look down, and to your shock, you discover that Jackle has been turned into a literal pile of goo. The orange maren's eyes glare at you "Not. A. Word." He growls.

"Heehee! Well Well. Guess you won't be needing the cape for a while." Leo says smugly. Owl brings a jar over as you scoop as much as you can inside of it. "I'm gonna get you all." He threatened, but it just gets a laugh out of NiGHTS, as they giggle at the state he's in. "WELL. If we're done with that, can we PLEASE get on to navigating Nightmare?" Jackle says loudly, trying to forget about his...predicament.

"Yes. Lets go." You say, instantly dualizing with NiGHTS again. The group takes a deep breath before you lead, taking the first jump into Nightmare. You feel the darkness around you, shivering at the cold that surrounded you at every corner. "So...This is Nightmare." You say, trying to see around in the dark. "Yeah...not the greatest place in the world huh." NiGHTS says. You nod as you wait for the others to come down as well, when you hear a voice talking "...Gotta do something..." it says. Your eyes widened, it was Aria's voice! But then again...could you be sure?

Sure NiGHTS was with you, and Jackle couldn't exactly do THAT much against you now. But given how the hiccups could affect the world at any given moment, you feel like you should wait for the others, but if it really was Aria, you could find her and get out of there.

Aria belongs to @shadowqueen402

Debbie belongs to @mayordebbie

#Balan Wonderworld #NiGHTS into Dreams #NiGHTS Journey of Dreams #NiGHTS #Jackle #Leo Craig #Emma Cole #Owl

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chainrattle · 3 years

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info on seven/rk under the cut !

pre-maw ( arc zero ) ; the runaway kid wasn't always some nameless face trapped within the depths of the maw ; like any child, he came from a family. a beloved child of one to a perfectly normal grandfather and grandmother. his parents whereabouts didn't bother him, since the devoted care of his grandparents was enough. during his childhood he was spoiled rotten, lavished with gifts due to being the only child. one tragic day, however, changed everything when his grandmother passed away due to unknown causes. despite the horrors of the world, outside their little ranch far away from cities and boats, his grandfather went out to bury his wife where she had asked to be buried.

left all alone, the boy waited for a total of a week before he set off to find his elder. a mistake on his part. while searching desperately for his remaining family, the boy was attacked— someone aimed a hit on his head that knocked him out cold. a swelling bump, oozing of blood, now on his head. this hit made him remember little of his past when he finally awoke on the maw. the images of his family now hazy faces that only became more distorted by the day. while he has no clue who gave him his head injury, it certainly caused escaping the maw to be harder.

( in later loops, the head wound heals and becomes less of a injury— making it easier. but there is still a scar on his head from it )

canon ' the maw ' ( arc one ) ; everything that takes place here is when the runaway boy is within the metal walls of the maw. the sequence of events follows canon closely, with him waking up in the children's room and escaping his prison— roaming the depths and killing the granny with his quick thinking. he's captured by the janitor and briefly encounters the feared heroine six before taken away to be moved to the kitchen. an attempt he easily escapes, though he falls once more back to the bottom. calling upon the nomes to help him, rk finds solace in his only friends when they get the furnace ( or known as the 'heart' of the maw ) started. when he escapes through an elevator, the lady is below him.

finally, the boy is in the lady's quarters. where he fends off from shadow kids with his flashlight and finds the statues needed to escape. he makes the fatal mistake of catching the lady staring at her reflection, however, and this proves to be his end. the moment she catches him, she twists him into a nome and he's destined to waddle off, becoming six's meal like the loop wants him to be.

canon divergent maw. in most threads, the story will become canon divergent as the boy interacts with others aboard the maw ; be it monsters or children. sometimes he will meet the same fate despite his partnerships ; becoming a nome for six to eat. sometimes six doesn't eat him. sometimes the boy in blue actually escapes, or the lady kills him where he stands. these different scenarios occur after the first loop, where stuff starts to alter— slowly, but surely.

canon divergent ' pale city ' ( arc two ) ; entering pale city only occurs if he escapes the maw, be it alone or with a partner. either way, seven ( a name he earned on the maw that he heard whispered about ) typically ends up separated ; isolated and alone in a foreign city. in most loops, it's rare he encounters the hunter considering he starts in pale city— but there have been a few times where he travels to that location and gets caught himself. a consistency, however, is that the boy stumbles upon the school quickly. with a hunger for company, he's easy prey for the bullies. while entering the building, he's relentlessly pranked, harassed, and physically harmed— but he pushes on.

not a solid choice to make considering his persistence and cowardice nature ( he can't bring himself to hurt other children ) is what makes the bullies want to keep him. brought to the teacher, seven is forced to stay. it takes five to six weeks for him to finally wiggle his way out of his hell ; be it alone or because of the help of another. with new scars to carry he keeps off the grid for a good while, avoiding big buildings like the hospital until he needs to treat some festering wounds.

by the time he gets to the doctor's in most loops, six and mono have already taken care of him ( or they're currently in the building when he arrives ) and he's free to only deal with the mannequins. but for the most part, he's in and out fast. being sneaky and cautious makes the hospital scene a little easier for him to handle. there's nothing significant in the building for him, though he does linger in the room with all those markings for the longest time.

in most scenarios, it's rare for seven to make it to the tower or lay eyes on the thin man. by the time he's in the streets again, six has usually dropped mono and repeated the cycle. which results in seven dying from the viewers so he can start back in the maw with six. seven is only freed from the loop when it's broken by six and mono ; forcing him to rely on others for his own fate ( and how messed up is that? )

more canon divergent pale city. when seven's in pale city, a lot of things aren't consistent due to the fact he isn't supposed to make it this far. sometimes he sticks with a partner the whole time, other times he's alone the whole way through. occasionally he sticks with mono and six until after the doctor's area ; typically dying in the collapsing building or, if he's lucky, at the hands of monster six ( again, he dies if the loop is to restart, he can never make it to the end with mono and six unless the loop is going to be broken ).

DUE TO THE LOOP in general, and due to seven mattering little in the grand scheme of things ; there's only some consistencies. his past always remains the same, he's always given the head injury, he awakes on the maw first, kills the granny, and is gifted the companionship of the nomes. sometimes the lady kills him, sometimes she turns him into the very thing he loves so much, and sometimes six eats him. the only thing that remains the same in every loop in pale city is seven being trapped in the school ; everything else changes for the most part.

› › » › ›

seven & six ; a friendship that forms despite it all! his fate is intertwined with six's, being the nome she eats when she's at her starving point. but there's more to them than that— with seven seeing bright yellow and feeling familiarity swirl in his chest. she reminds him of the horrors within the maw, yet six also makes him think of doing the impossible. out of all his companions, six is the one he will have always known the longest— even if he's only known her at a glance before. though it's true that the girl's powers scare him, make him debate her morals even, this doesn't stop the runaway from loving six. he can't quite get pass her powers, or ( if he learns ) the fact she ate him, but he can love her despite it. and he always does. for her sake, he even keeps his feelings on her supernatural aspect quite so he doesn't make her feel bad. also, she's a comfort to him due to their shared experiences in the maw— something that they mostly share alone.

seven & mono ; an unlikely bond that should've never formed ( in the loop's eyes ) but it blooms nonetheless. seven's never hung out with many boys before, so he's very shy and nervous around mono upon first meeting him. his typical cold behavior melts fast as he feels the pathetic urge to impress mono, though he tries to hide this well. they both typically have fun swapping stories about six, both viewing her in a slightly different light— which makes it even more fun to discuss. at first that's all they seem to have to talk about ; six this, six that! seven clings to this conversation topic because he wants to keep talking to mono, but they settle into other topics eventually. forming their own experiences together ( like saving six perhaps ) helps make their bond separate from their one with six. of course, like with their mutual friend, seven is uncomfortable by mono's powers— and would definitely be disgusted by the fact mono becomes the thin man. however, he keeps this to himself again. trying to get over his issues with mono during his own time since he really does like him.

seven & five ; five is the kid that seven never feels threatened by, or envious of. she seems to love the nomes just as much as he does, which is something that will tie him to any child, but she also doesn't have powers ; like mono and six have. that fact comforts him in her presence, knowing that she's ordinary just like him. she made it this far by survival skills alone and he's impressed by this fact, along with being taken with her humourous and determined nature. all in all, the boy quickly relates to her and lets five in, her presence lightening the burden on his shoulders. she makes him laugh and smile harder than most and he quite likes their history with water. these two have a lot of things that glue them together, relating in ways seven can't with most of the other kids.

seven & the nomes ; with little rememberance of his actual family, the nomes have fit together to make him a new one. there's a sense of belonging that tugs him to the nomes, feeling understood and seen by the peculiar creatures. the nomes understand what its like to fail, to never be able to taste the fresh air of new lands. seven sees himself in each of them and, despite the nomes usually not being in any real danger, the boy is fiercely protective of his new family. they know his every thought, constantly spilling his deepest thoughts and secrets to them because it's easier when he knows the nomes can't tell anyone. there's lots of trust in this dynamic, and seven sees himself as one of the nomes.

#* ooc › loitering in my cage #listen i know the 'explaining the loop' part is SUPER MESSY just leave me be #i dont understand the loop and its very hard to make it work for seven so just pretend i like #know what im talking about #basically. seven's fate relies on six and mono. if six lets mono go? sevens gonna die bc he usually needs to be there for six in the maw #im sorry for all the errors this is a bitch to edit so ill just do it later LOL #as for the relationships!!! they can have changes in them obviously. i simply made a base for seven to go off of #ANYWAY!!! this is just my initial thoughts for seven and all that #these might all change in the future !!! this is like...a draft for his bio if anything

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nowplayingblog-main · 5 years

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Guns Don’t Kill People

read on AO3

Written for @irondadbingo

Tony woke up to a bright light in his eyes, surrounded by darkness. He had heard about the light at the end of the tunnel just before you died, but he somehow felt that if he was dead, or even dying, that he shouldn't be in this much pain. Even if the last thing he remembered was his own missile blowing up in his face.

He turned his head, and the room he was in came into focus. Or maybe “room” was too kind of a term. The walls were rough, uneven, wet rock, and the furniture that made up the area was thrown together, rickety and dirty. In the center of the room was a steel beam that Tony hoped to God wasn't holding up the place. At the other end of the room there was a sketchy looking bunk bed, with a boy - maybe in his then years - laying lopsidedly on the top bunk, staring lazily at the ceiling, as though he we're on drugs.

Turning his attention away from the room, Tony felt around his face, feeling a tube coming out from his right nostril. In a moment that was probably not his best moment of judgment, Tony pulled on the tube, which caused a burning sensation in his nose, and triggered his gag reflex as the tube brushed past the back of his throat. He stopped, but that felt even worse. Tony continued to pull out what he now realized was a feeding tube until it was completely out - gagging the entire time.

He threw the offensive tube across the room, and sat up in his cot, trying to move away to walk around the room, get a better sense of his surroundings, but he was stopped by a tugging sensation in his chest, which sparked extreme, crippling pain that Tony hadn't been fully aware of. Tony looked down at the stained bandages underneath his shirt. From underneath those bandages there were cables that led to a car battery at the side of the cot he was once lying on. He wrapped his hand around the cords, ready to tug.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” The boy on the bunk said tiredly, as though he were half asleep. Tony looked up and saw that the boy was staring at him, his pupils dilated. He looked as though he wasn't truly there.

He turned his attention back to his bandaged chest. The pain underneath them had become unbearable. He tore away the bandages to reveal a monstrosity - a hunk of metal in his chest, surrounded by red, irritated skin.

Tony fainted.

The next time Tony woke up, the kid was cooking something over a fire, which was shabbily built near the center of the room. The kid seemed less delirious than he had been earlier, but there were moments when his hands paused, or he would catch himself leaning too far to one side.

He sat up, and the tugging at his chest reminded of the presence of the metallic monstrosity in his chest.

Tony looked up at the kid. “What did you do to me?”

The kid met his eyes, and Tony could see his pupils were still slightly smaller than normal, especially for someone sitting in a dark, cave like room.

“I didn't do anything to you,” he had an American accent, which surprised Tony, and his words were slurred. “I'm not a doctor. But I did give them the idea. It's an electromagnet. You were hit with a lot of shrapnel, and it was going to pierce your heart. They got out as much as they could, and whatever was left in there is being stopped by that magnet.”

“I'm sorry, are you high right now?” Tony asked brashly.

The kid went cross-eyed for a moment, and leaned a little too far to the left, catching himself before he could actually fall over. He looked sheepishly back up at Tony. “It's not my choice.”

Before Tony could ask what he meant by that, there was a pounding at the door, strains of Arabic filtering through.

The kid stumbled to his feet, placing his hands behind his head, “Get up.”

Tony remained seated, eyes trained on the door.

“What are you, crazy? Get up! Do as I do!”

Tony stood up, placing his hands behind his head, mimicking the boy, just as the armed terrorists barged through the door.

There were seven or eight men, each armed with what Tony recognized as Stark Industries issued weapons. Then, another man walked through. Clearly the leader.

He walked up to the kid first, speaking in Arabic. Tony couldn't understand a word he was saying, but he spoke with a praising tone of voice, but in a somewhat condescending tone.

After a while, the man turned to Tony, continuing to speak in Arabic.

“He says welcome, Tony Stark, the greatest mass murderer in the history of America.” The kid translated, which stunned Tony for a moment. “He is honored.”

The terrorist leader cut him off continuing to speak in his foreign tongue.

“He says he wants you to build him a missile - the Jericho missile, which you were demonstrating earlier.”

The man pulled out a black and white printed picture of the Jericho.

“That one,” the kid supplied, somewhat needlessly.

Tony looked up at the man, eyeing the armed men behind him.

“I refuse”

The torture that followed would haunt Tony for the rest of his life.

The next day, Tony was being led outside. It was blindingly bright, but when his eyes focused, he saw several of his weapons, as well as assorted parts and pieces from what Tony guessed were cars and explosives.

The kid was there. He was being restrained my a much larger man, his arms pinned behind his back. He had guns trained at his head at all times. The poor kid seemed to be taking this all in stride, as though he was used to it.

The leader was speaking again, and Tony looked to the kid for a translation, feeling bad about the position they were in.

“He says, what do you think?”

Tony grimaced. “I think he has a lot of my weapons.”

The leader spoke again. The kid translated. “As you can see, they have everything you need to build the Jericho. You will write a list of materials, and get to work right away. When you're done they will set you free.”

Tony glanced around at the armed men around him. Some of them stood on top of the rocky peaks. One of them stood out among the rest, and Tony suspected he was the leader of all of them, even the guy he was talking to right now.

He held his hand out and shook it with his captor.

“No he won't.” Tony said, mostly to the kid.

“No. He won't.” The kid agreed.

That night, Tony was laying on the bottom of the rickety bunk bed. He thanked his lucky stars that the kid appeared to weigh no more than a feather - any heavier may have caused the whole thing to capsize.

The kid was more alert now than Tony had ever seen him. He was sitting upright on the bunk. And Tony could tell by his positioning that he was staring at the door.

“You got a name, kid?”

“Peter,” he said softly, his voice wavering, but it wasn't slurred.

Tony hummed in acknowledgement. “I'd introduce myself, but -”

“I know who you are.”

Tony nodded silently.

“It's scary isn't it?” Peter said. “How many weapons they have. How many parts.”

“Yeah,” Tony said softly, “they weren't supposed to be the ones who had them.”

“Have you ever heard the saying, 'guns don't kill people, people do’?”

“Yeah, what's your point, kid?”

“You make the guns,” Peter explained, “and once they're out there, you can give them to the people you want to have them, you can guard them, but somehow, some way, they're going to end up in the hands of the people you don't want to have them. And the guns don't know any better. They won't just stop working. They just do as they're told.” He took a breath.

“I don't quite understand what you're trying to tell me,” Tony said passively.

“That's okay. Maybe someday you will.”

There was pounding at the door.

“What's going on?” Tony demanded. Standing up and putting his hands behind his head. “They said they wouldn't come until tomorrow.”

“They're not coming for you,” the kid assured him, climbing off the top bunk.

The armed men crowded into the room, and grabbed Peter by his arms, pinning them behind his back, tying them too tightly with thick, dirty rope. Those who weren't busy tying the poor kid up had their guns aimed at his head.

“Woah, woah!” Tony exclaimed, “What's your deal, what are you doing to him?!”

A few of the gunman swiveled toward him when he spoke, turning their guns on him

“It's fine Mr. Stark,” Peter assured him. “They have you here to build weapons. I'm here for the same reason.”

Tony had no idea what that meant, but just as soon as the had entered, the terrorists left the cave, locking the door behind them. Tony was alone.

Tony had managed at get a couple of hours of sleep between his tossing and turning, the pain in his chest, and his worry about a teen-aged stranger keeping him awake.

When the sun had finally started to shine through the small, thin window near the ceiling, the door finally opened again. Tony stood up, placing his hands behind his head like the kid taught him, and once again armed men came into their room, Peter hanging limply from where they held him by his arms. They dumped him onto the ground, and promptly left.

The poor kid was covered with his own blood, which oozed sluggishly from small cuts littering his body. The back of his right hand was bruised, and displayed a puncture wound above his vein. His arms were covered in puncture wounds, really.

His breathing was ragged, and Tony knew that being thrown into his stomach wasn't doing him any favors. He slowly moved toward the kid, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you with me, Peter?” He asked gently.

The kid groaned, the sound trailing off into a whimper.

“I'm gonna move you to the bed, okay? It's probably not a good idea for you to stay on the floor like this.

“M'fine,” Peter insisted, his words slurred so severely it took Tony a money to realize he was speaking.

“No, you really aren't.”

“M'Okay...really...I've...done this....'fore” the kid turned his head weakly to one side, his eyelids only half open.

“C'mon kid,” Tony insisted, hoisting him from underneath his armpits. “Up you go.”

Peter whimpered and whined as Tony staggered over to the bed. It wasn't hard to carry him, the kid was pretty light, but Tony had an awkward hold on him due to his own gaping injury in his chest, and he had to stop every so often to go back and shift his car battery so that he wouldn't get disconnected.

Once the kid was on the bed, Tony could tell he was pretty out of it, not to mention exhausted.

“Why are they doing this to you, kid?” Tony tried to ask, “What do they want from you.”

Peter's reply was too slurred for Tony to discern. He lifted one of the kids eyelids and saw that his pupils were blown.

“They're keeping you on pretty heavy drugs, aren't they?” Tony removed his hand from the boys face, resolving to wait to ask him in the morning.

“From what I can tell they're trying to create some kind of super soldier serum,” Peter told him the next time Tony asked. He was sitting up in the bunk, since Tony wanted him to rest, even though Peter insisted this wasn't the first time this had happened. “They have some kind of notes from way back in the 40s or something -”

“Steve Rogers,” Tony realized. “Captain America.”

“Well, it didn't work at first,” the kid said. “They injected me with something, but it didn't do much - nothing bad, but nothing good either, at least for them. I kept feeling dizzy, and passing out. Then they got these new notes, a whole lot more modern. From what I can tell, they're coming from some company in America. They only started recently.

“They injected me with this new serum. It was crazy. Right after they injected it, it was like my senses we're going haywire. It was so bright, and loud, and everything I felt was so intense and uncomfortable. They thought it was a fluke at first, but when I woke up the next morning it was like everything evened out. It was still intense, but I'd adjusted. And I was stronger. Way stronger. I fought back, and I almost escaped. Now they keep me on the drugs to make sure I don't try anything. I also think my metabolism increased, because they started giving me less food, to keep my strength low.”

Tony listened to the kid as he cooked they're extremely low rations over the open fire. “so they want me to build them weapons, and they want you to become their weapon.”

“Sort of,” Peter shrugged, “I get the feeling I'm just their guinea pig. They're just using me to perfect their formula, before they give it to their more willing soldiers.”

“How did they get ahold of you?”

“I was visiting with my parents on a business trip. They're geneticists, and they were here doing research,” Peter's eyes glazed over, “They shot at the car, broke the windows. My father was killed in the driver's seat, and my mother was shot a moment later. I kept waiting. Waiting to die. When they broke into the car I thought they were going to kill me. But instead they just knocked me out and I woke back up here.”

Peter looked up at him with apologetic eyes. “They had your weapons, Mr. Stark.”

Tony focused on the kids dirty, worn down sneakers, sitting beside the bunk, not willing to meet the kids eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“I made the weapons,” Tony insisted.

“It's not like that,” Peter countered.

Tony decided to change the subject. “And what are they gonna do to you when they're done?”

Peter looked him in the eye. “Kill me, I would think.”

Tony met his gaze. “I won't let that happen.”

“Why?” The kid asked. “You hardly know me. Besides, you've got your own life at stake.”

“I don't have to know you,” Tony said. “You're a kid. You have so much more to live for than just this. You deserve a chance to live.”

“Mr. Stark, with all due respect, I don't have any reason to stay alive, my parents are dead. There's nothing left for me. Do you even have a plan to get out of here?”

Tony looked up, eyeballing one of the camera he had noticed we're stationed around the room.

“We'll see.”

Later that day, the cave was crowded with people carrying things inside. Tony was barking orders, Peter standing close by translating as fast as he could.

Soon the workspace was set up to. Tony's liking, well lit and equipped with everything he needed. There once open and large room was suddenly full of Stark Industries weapons and mechanics.

Once everyone had filed out of the cave, Tony began to work, sketching out blueprints for his big project - as well as a smaller one, one he would need to start working on as soon as possible. Glancing over, he caught Peter staring at the Stark Industries logo on one of the missiles. He looked like he wasn't really there.

“Kid,” Tony called, causing Peter to jump, snapping out of his reverie “Come make yourself useful.”

Peter cautiously came over toward him. Tony picked up a long tube - a missile. The kid stopped walking.

“Relax, they took out the explosives before they gave them to me. They're crazy, but not stupid. Now watch.”

Tony very meticulously and carefully broke apart the missile extracting what he needed. Until finally he pulled out a small piece metal with his tweezers.

“Okay, we don't need this,” Tony threw scrap pieces over his shoulder.

“What's that?” The kid asked.

“Palladium,” Tony said. “About .15 grams of it. I need at least 1.6, so why don't you start breaking down the other eleven.”

The kid was actually a very good helper. When he wasn't drugged up to his eyeballs he had remarkably steady hands, and he clearly knew how to break stuff apart the right way.

“I used to do this all the time, back at home,” Peter had explained. “I would get old broken computers from the thrift store, break them down and rewire them. I made some pretty cool stuff, or at least I liked to think so.”

Tony had waited for moment when Peter was more aware to have him heat up the palladium in the crucible and pour it into the sand mold Tony had constructed. Tony couldn't do it himself, since he had to hold onto his car battery.

“Careful,” he warned. “We only got one shot at this.”

“If you stop psyching me out,” the kid countered, “I might be more steady.”

Despite their banter, Peter had successfully poured it into the mold, and the next morning Tony pulled out a freshly made ring of palladium. By that point the poor kid had returned from one of his torture sessions and was the equivalent of a vegetable lying on their bunk.

Tony got to work, installing all the pieces, soldering and wiring, until his finished product whirred to life, glowing a faint blue in front of him.

Peter materialized over his shoulder, and it was at that point Tony noticed how much time had gone by.

“What's that?” The kid spoke in an awed whisper.

“It's a miniature ARC reactor. I've got a bigger one at home, powering my workshop.” Tony explained. “This one will keep the shrapnel out of my heart.”

“What does it generate?”

“If my math is correct - and it always is - about three gigajoules per second. Enough to power my heart for 50 lifetimes.” Tony turned and made eye contact with Peter. “Or something big for 15 minutes.”

The kid looked at him with wary eyes. “What are you planning?”

Tony stood up, leading the kid over to his blueprints, flattening them out to show him his other project - his much bigger project.

“Woah,” the kid breathed.

Tony wasn't sure how much time had passed before he was almost completely done with his project. He had about a week of work left to do, when once again there was a pounding on the door.

He and the kid exchanged nervous glances. It wasn't anywhere near time for Peter to be taken away again. They stood, hands behind their heads.

Man flooded the room, all armed with guns - no surprise. What was different this time was that the old leader, the one Tony had grown used to seeing, wasn’t there. Instead, another man took charge, a man Tony remembered from his one trip to the outside world since being imprisoned here.

“Relax,” The man said.

Tony and Peter tentatively let their hands fall to their sides. The man circled them, and began examining Tony’s blueprints. Tony’s heart leapt in fear. He doubted than man would be able to piece together what he was making, but still, it set him on edge.

“The bow and arrow was once the pinnacle of weapons technology. It allowed the great Genghis Khan to rule from the Pacific to the Ukraine,” The man gave up trying to make sense of the blueprints. “Today, whoever has the latest Stark weapons rules these lands. Soon it will be my turn...”

The man turned to Peter, and started having a conversation with him, no longer talking in English, so Tony couldn’t follow along. Suddenly, Peter was forced to his knees, and his head was shoved down onto an anvil. Tony’s heart raced, unsure what to do. He didn’t want to let the kid get hurt, but he knew trying to help him might make things worse. The man picked up a set of Tony’s tongs, using them to remove a hot coal from the fire, and started maneuvering it towards the kids head, still shouting at Peter in a foreign tongue.

“What do you want, a delivery date?” Tony asked stepping forward to try and help the kid against his better judgment. The armed men quickly trained their guns on him, shouting words of warning, on Tony stopped, raising his hands in surrender. He looked around, trying to think of something that might help them. He looked to the man who was still holding the hot coal with his tongs, too close to the kid’s face for comfort.

“I need him,” Tony insisted. “He’s a good assistant.”

The air was still and tense. The room became so silent that Tony could hear Peter trying to take deep, calming breaths. Finally the man dropped the burning coal, signaling to his men to let Peter go.

“You have until tomorrow,” He warned, “to build my missile.”

Then they left.

Thankfully, the kid wasn’t dragged away for experiments again, which let them work more efficiently on the suit throughout the night. What would have taken a week was now being done in one night.

“What did they want?” Tony asked while hammering at the metal chest plate to give it shape.

“They’re onto you,” Peter warned, working on the wires and electrical work. “They kept asking what you were really building. I told them that you were working very hard on the Jericho, but it was very complex.”

“We need to get this done before sunrise,” Tony decided. “Otherwise they’ll come too soon and we won’t have a chance.”

By the time the light behind their small window had begun to turn orange like the morning, Peter was helping Tony into his suit, and they waited for the data from a small, old computer to load so that they could power it up.

“Say it again,” Peter prompted.

“41 steps straight ahead, 16 steps from the door, fork right, 33 steps, turn right,” Tony rattled off.

Peter took a shaky breath and nodded.

“Hey,” Tony said, trying to sound as calm as possible, “It’s gonna be fine.”

Peter nodded again. “Say it again.”

Tony knew it at this point, but he repeated it so that Peter could feel better.

“Almost at 100%,” Peter reported.

“Okay, remember than plan, kid. Stick to the plan. Remember your checkpoints, and make sure everything is clear before you follow me, okay?” Tony looked Peter dead in the eye, and the kid gave him another shaky nod. “It’ll be fine, It’ll -”

There was banging at the door. Peter gave a shaky gasp looking fearfully at the door. There was shouting.

“Say something to them,” Tony prompted.

“They’re speaking Hungarian,” Peter said. “I don’t know how to speak Hungarian.”

“Speak Hungarian,” Tony pressed, “Just say something in Hungarian.”

The kid’s eyes were wide with terror, and he loudly called out a couple of wavering words. It didn’t appear to work however, because the door was opened.

There was a loud ban, and both Peter and Tony felt the wave of the explosion that had been a trap that they had set on the door. It was supposed to be how they got out of here, but it was too soon.

“Okay, times up kid, we gotta go.” Tony moved to disconnect his suit.

“No!” Peter shouted, “You need more time -”

“Kid, we don’t got time, we need to make our move, now!”

“You stay here and wait for it to power up,” Peter said. “I can buy you a couple of minutes.”

Then, the kid ran to one of the bodies of the men who had been at the door, picking up one of their guns, then he ran out the door.

“Kid!” Tony yelled. “Kid! Stick to the plan! Stop!”

After several agonizing minutes of waiting, the loading bar on the computer reached 100%. The lights flickered, before the eventually powered off. Tony disconnected himself from the cables, and maneuvered the suit out of the cave, through the hole where the door had once stood.

Tony found the kid near the mouth of the cave, laying over a pile of sandbags, bleeding and panting. Tony had successfully picked off everyone inside the cave, and seeing that it was safe, he knelt by the kid and raised the helmet.

“Kid, c’mon, we have a plan and we’re gonna stick to it.”

The poor kid moaned in pain, whimpering when Tony rolled him over. He was bleeding profusely from his stomach. Tony could tell he had been shot. Peter let out agonized shot as Tony pulled one of the kid’s hands over the wound.

“Keep pressure on that, okay? I’m gonna deal with those guys out there, then I’m gonna come back, and we’re gonna get out of here okay?”

Peter whimpered. “- hurts, it hurts. Mr. Stark. Please. I don’t wanna die.”

“Shh,” Tony soothed. “You’ll be fine. Just put pressure on that wound and I’ll be back in a few minutes to get you, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

Peter nodded, pressing down on the wound, he yelled from the pain.

“Shh,” Tony soothed. “I’ll be right back, okay kid?”

He closed the mask and made his way outside.

Just as Tony had killed all of his captors, the suit lost power. He shed the heavy metal and took of the protective extra layers he had worn underneath of it so he wouldn’t get dehydrated too quickly.

He raced back to the kid, much more mobile now that he didn’t have the suit on. Remarkably, Peter had managed to sit up, and the wound underneath his hand was somewhat healed.

“The experiments,” Peter explained. “They didn’t drug me last night, so I’m stronger now, and I can heal quicker.”

“Yeah, but it still isn’t good that there’s still a bullet in there,” Tony said. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

When Rhodey found them with the air force helicopters while they braved the desert, Tony had never been more relieved.

#fanfiction #iron man #spiderman #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #spiderson #irondadbingo

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camsthisky · 6 years

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I donated under Sheillagh O :) I'm such a sucker for deaging, can u do a deaged Damian (like back to being like a couple months old), only B, Dick, and Alfred are in the manor with him, and it's such a bittersweet few days. And Dick and Bruce have this quiet moment when Dami is asleep or something where they're both feeling Dad Emotions(TM) about not being able to raise him (or something similar, like just those bittersweet Angst Feels about baby Dami from his basically two dads) :)

sorry it’s taking me so long to get through these but thank you so much for donating!

cerusee’s gofundme page - please donate if you’re able to

There’s a quiet in the manor that has Bruce unsettled.

It used to be if the manor was quiet, things were—maybe not right, but it definitely meant he was awake and alive. The only sounds to be heard was Alfred moving through the rooms one by one, cleaning and cooking and looking after Bruce’s well-being, even when Bruce didn’t appreciate it.

That all changed in the days after Dick arrived at the manor. The once quiet walls resounded with sound, and the manor has been full of a strange liveliness ever since that eight year old boy flipped in Bruce’s life and Bruce’s home.

And as the years went by, the quiet became strange. More children wiggled their way into Bruce’s heart, and he’d found himself with more kids and less quiet than he knew how to deal with. The longer the halls were silent, the more it meant something was wrong.

When Bruce silently enters the living room, Dick’s asleep on the couch, head tilted back and soft snores crackling in the back of his throat, brought on by exhaustion. Bruce wants to tuck him in, but the bundle in Dick’s arms stops him.

The other kids are all gone. Jason and Steph and Babs dispersed somewhere throughout the city, doing their own things. Tim is with his team. Cass is back in Hong Kong. Duke is visiting some friends. Alfred is out getting more supplies.

And Damian.

Damian is wrapped up in blankets, held in Dick’s arms, twelve years younger than he’d been two days ago.

Bruce has no new leads on how to bring Damian back to his original age, and they’ve found they can do nothing but wait until Zatanna is able to stop by and help them figure out the situation. Unfortunately, neither Dick nor Bruce are equipped to deal with a baby that’s not even a year old.

But neither are willing to give up on Damian. They’re trying their best.

Dick stirs slightly when Bruce drapes a blanket over his lap and pulls sleeping baby out of Dick’s arms.

“Wha’s?” Dick mumbles, blearily blinking up at Bruce. He tenses suddenly, but then his eyes travel from Bruce’s face to the baby in Bruce’s arms, and he deflates, his eyes fluttering shut again. “Oh. ‘S just you.”

“When’s the last time you slept.”

“Dunno.”

“Go sleep in a proper bed,” Bruce tells him quietly. “I can handle him for a few hours.”

Dick groans quietly. “He’s just gonna scream again.”

Dick’s probably right. Despite his age, Damian has kicked up a fuss every time Dick’s been out of his sight for more than a few minutes. It’s given both of them headaches, but Dick’s been stubbornly pushing through his exhaustion to make sure that Damian doesn’t scream himself hoarse.

“Bed, Dick,” Bruce says again. “I’ll go with you, but you need to sleep.”

Dick hums. “Sounds nice.”

“I can’t carry both of you.”

“Liar,” Dick huffs, smile playing at his lips as he cracks an eye open. “You totally could. I know for a fact that you carried both Tim, Cass, and Jason in that family game-a-thon that you organized.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “If I remember correctly, you organized that.”

“You have no proof.”

“I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

“And I’m getting tired of your face.” Dick pauses, his eyebrows creasing and his eyes fully opening. “I sound like Jason.”

“Dick.”

Dick stretches and pushes himself to his feet, only stumbling once on the way up the stairs and into Bruce’s bedroom. They settle on the bed—Dick under the covers, curled up with his head pressing against the outside of Bruce’s thigh like he’s ten years old again.

Bruce is careful not to jostle the delicate cargo in his arms. He doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of accidentally waking Damian up. And he doesn’t want Dick to deal with the consequences. They’ll both end up staying awake another couple hours, and Dick doesn’t look like he can afford that right now.

“I miss him,” Dick says into the dim light of the room. “’S too quiet around here.”

Bruce grunts.

Dick snorts. “Eloquent.”

“I was agreeing.”

“Really? Couldn’t tell. It sounded too much like your stop-annoying me-Dick grunt.”

Bruce doesn’t sigh, but it’s a close thing. All he feels is fond, though, so he prods, “You miss him?”

Dick makes a noise of agreement. “Damian is a pain in my ass but I’d rather he be a thirteen year old pain in my ass.”

Bruce stares down at Damian. “He’s cute when he’s asleep.”

“He’s not when he’s awake.”

“Hrn.”

“I guess one or thirteen, he never really changes, though. Still got a set of lungs on him.”

“Did you get peas thrown at you again?”

Dick sighs forlornly. “I thought I could get him to eat it this time.”

“Dick,” Bruce says, and this time the fondness comes through in his voice, “Damian won’t do anything he doesn’t want to do, regardless of how old he is. He’s still Damian.”

“And that’s why we love him,” Dick breathes out. “But I miss having the chance to spend time with the kid where we can just sit in each other’s spaces and be. Or patrolling together. Sometimes I like to sit and read in his room while he draws, and it’s nice way to relax.”

Bruce is quiet a moment before he voices what’s been on his mind the last day and a half.

“And if he’s stuck like this?”

Dick snorts. “What else? We raise him, and he’ll still be Damian, and maybe he’ll remember what we’ve been through, but I’m still going to miss that thirteen year old brat that drives me crazy.”

Bruce stares at his sons. One in his twenties and the other just a tiny baby, and he wonders how he’d gotten so lucky to have the two of them. To have Cass and Tim and Jason and Duke, too. And Stephanie and Babs and Alfred. He wonders what he did right.

And then his eyes drift to Dick’s peaceful, sleeping expression, and his heart clenches, because back then, all those years ago, he’d seen a boy who’d been just like him, and he’d made a choice, and it must have been the right one.

And of course, he’d jump at the chance to have been able to raise Damian from birth, but Dick’s right. With Damian as he is now, there’s nothing in his head of what they’ve been through together in the past, and he does miss that thirteen year old grumpy child that is so much like him, and yet has the potential to be so much better with Dick prodding him along in the right direction.

“We’ll get you back,” Bruce whispers to the baby, so small in his large arms. “And if we don’t, you’re still part of our family, Damian.”

#bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #dc #prompt #camryn writes #sheillagh-tries-life

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