#I’ma just be watching in the audience where it’s safe

[rubytale-chapter2]

🍿 I’m the Emperor’s audience member!

I claim front row seat! This is finna be lit than a mug! 😎😎😎

Also, the animatic is smooth like butter wth!?!?🧈

(I made sound effects, but something happened to it wtf) 😭😅

Anyways, here’s a teaser trailer of what’s to expect this Friday.

Basically, it’s a late 1000 followers event I wanted to do but didn’t have anything ready!

Xirus has corrupted the Multiverse. And some of you as the audience has been affected.

Your new task is to fight for survival. Don’t trust anyone.

Xirus’s Rules:

If you wish to participate in this fun little event (optional), create a corrupted version of your character/persona/oc (doesn’t matter) and re-blog it here. That way he knows you’re interested in the game.

If you’re not participating, simply re-blog with the 🍿 emoji and type: “I’m the Emperor’s audience member”. That way he knows you’re not in the game and simply just watching your mortal companions brawl to the death.

You cannot re-blog more than one character, and it cannot be your weakest character, they’ll be killed instantly. His rules not mine…

You must come up with a random code name, whatever you pick, that will be your ability/hack, there are no limits to what you can do. It help you in battle and when you were at low health.

Do not under any circumstance tell anyone your code, you must keep it to yourself. Others will try and use it against you.

If you already have a corrupted character, that’s fine. You may use that instead.

If you win, Xirus will send you a special gift in your DM’s. If you lose, you will forced to leave your family and friends and work for him for all of eternity…..well g-good luck! I’m totally not being held hostage by him right now, hahaha! Help me….

Are you guys ready then go forth the corruption!!! And remember, survive… =)

[imagines-dreams]

Why He Invented Time Travel

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: endgame spoilers, if that still applies, and mentions of anxiety/PTSD, lots of fluff to make up for it

Summary:  I wrote a scene where Peter Parker finds out that his memory was the thing that convinced Tony Stark to try inventing time travel again feat. babysitter!Peter, sweet little Morgan, Tony Stark being a parent, and a little bit of babysitter!Nebula

Word Count: 5629

~ - ~

Ever since the Battle of Thanos, Peter had a lot of things to catch up on. Mr. Stark had married Ms. Potts, (he thought they were married before but that’s beside the point). They had a daughter named Morgan, and she was a cutie. He and his aunt had to bargain for their apartment again. Also, some kids were older, and some weren’t? Like Harley! Harley was supposed to be a year younger than he was, but no. Harley Keener was now four years older than Peter. (Harley likes gloating about it all the time now.)

All in all, the snap really messed up this timeline.

Still, the best part was Morgan. Even though Peter wasn’t there for the first four years of her life, he knew the moment he met her that he’d love her with everything he had.

“Peter.”

He smiled at the guardian. “Hey, Nebula.”

She attempted a smile and stepped away from the door to let Peter in.

“Who’s here today?” Peter asked, putting his backpack down by the table. Morgan collided with his leg with a giggle. “Peter’s back!”

Peter laughed and hulled her up. “Wow, you’re getting big, huh?”

“Morgan’s here,” Nebula said. “Harley left approximately twenty-three minutes ago for the compound. Riri was here two days and two hours ago and is currently back home working on her suit.”

“Peter, look!” Morgan pointed at the door.

Peter turned, and just like that, his hair stood on end, and his skin raised into goosebumps. There was a tick, tick of a rudimentary gun. He held up his hand just in time to catch the incoming sock ball.

“Aw.” Morgan pouted. “Harley said he could hit you this time.”

“My spider sense is too good.”

“Tingle!” Morgan corrected with a giggle.

He shook his head and poked her stomach. “Spidey sense!”

“Peter tingle,” Nebula deadpanned.

Peter narrowed his eyes at Nebula, but the ex-assassin stepped forward so she was closer to Peter. She tilted her head, and her smirk, though playful, dared him to correct the child again.

Peter blinked. “Fine. Peter tingle.”

“Yay!” The girl threw her arms up in the air. Her center of balance shifted, and her body fell out of Peter’s arms. Just as Peter was fumbling to catch her again, Nebula caught her and puts her back on the ground. Once her feet touched the ground, the little girl, completely unfazed by the fact that she almost fell from Peter’s arms, ran back to her toys in the living room, laughing and shouting about things she had just imagined.

Nebula crossed her arms.

“Sh-She, well, she was the one who,” Peter fumbled. “I mean, come on. Nebula, I was-”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nebula smiled, with a little too much teeth, but as soon as Peter saw her teeth, she stopped smiling. “I must attend a meeting with the guardians. Tony will be here in three hours and thirty-two minutes.”

Peter nodded. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Nebula went to Morgan and crouched down in front of her. “I’m leaving for a few days.”

The little girl put down her toys, and her eyes grew large. “Can you stay longer?”

“I’m already twenty-two seconds late, Morgan.”

She sighed and pushed the strands of hair out of her face and rested her two hands on the back of her neck. Morgan breathed out very loudly before looking at Nebula again. “I’ma miss you.”

Nebula’s lips twitched. “I will miss you, too.” The woman opened her arms up. “Good day?”

Morgan beamed and launched herself into Nebula’s arms. “Good day!”

When Morgan pulled away, Nebula told her, “Be good for Peter.”

“Yes, Auntie Blue.”

Nebula nodded at Peter. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

So, Nebula left, and Morgan pulled on Peter’s hand. He laughed and went on one knee. “What does little Miss Stark need, huh?”

“I wanna put on a show.”

“A show? What’s the show?”

“You!” Morgan giggled and pushed Peter to the center of the carpet. She hurriedly set up all her stuffed animals in front of him, patting some heads and kissing some fluffy cheeks. When the audience was set up, Morgan carefully stepped between everyone, saying “Excuse me,” to the stuffed animals she passed. Then, with her stuffed bunny in her hands, she plopped down on the carpet. “And the show begins” -she pointed at Peter- “now!”

Peter laughed and did a backflip.

Morgan applauded and mimicked a cheering crowd with soft ah’s and oh’s.

The superhero continued to do more tricks, including walking on the ceiling, flipping onto the ceiling, and getting stuck on the ceiling.

The powers Peter got from the radioactive spider weren’t always easy to control. Of course, he had the standard first few weeks and months of having to adjust to having super strength and too-quick-to-be-normal reflexes. But even after being Spider-Man for a few years, he still had a bit of trouble from time to time.

For example, when Peter felt tense, nervous, anxious, or all three at once, then he had a tendency to stick to whatever he touched.

So, when Peter’s mind, for it was always bustling around thinking things he honestly shouldn’t be thinking, thought back to the color orange and how orange the planet Titan was and how the sand slipped beneath his feet. How Dr. Strange’s yellow-orange magic transported him over and over so he could kick Thanos in the face. How he almost took the glove off, and if he had just pulled a little harder, maybe, just maybe, everything-

“Peter?”

“Everything’s fine, Morgan!” He shook his head and smiled at the little girl. “I’m ok.” Peter tugged at his own feet. “Just nerves from, uh, performing. I’m fine!”

“I’m gonna get blankets!”

“Morgan, no. Please, Morgan, stay here.” Being alone wasn’t going to help. Still, he didn’t want to scare her. After all, he promised Nebula that he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. “Uh, I can’t get unstuck and watch over your friends at the same time, right?”

Morgan tilted her head, and Peter could see in her eyes that she knew something was wrong. Something unpleasant settled in his chest. It wasn’t her fault that she was more intuitive than most five-year-olds. It was his for still being so hung up on the snap.

Peter gulped down his guilt. He couldn’t deal with that later. In that moment, he needed to get off the ceiling. Getting off the ceiling will make Morgan stay with him. Then, he can take care of her for the rest of the day and not think about horrible things. So, he kept on trying to pry his feet off the wall. He breathed in, breathed out, and pulled. And nothing. He did it a second time. Breathe in, out, pull. In, out, pull

Gods, what was wrong with him? He just needed to take care of a five-year-old kid. It wasn’t like she was a hard kid to take care of. Morgan was sweet and kind. He shouldn’t have any problems, but there he was stuck on the ceiling and-

Where did Morgan’s toys go?

Peter blinked. There was an entire audience of twenty or so stuffed toys watching him just a minute ago.

The little girl had at least six of them bunched up in her arms. One fell as she tried to maneuver her way somewhere.

“Wha- Morgan, what are you doing?”

“I’m making a safe landing place.” She dropped the toys onto the carpeted floor right beneath Peter where all the others were waiting. Since there were no more stuffed animals around to volunteer to be part of the cute and fluffy landing cushion, she grabbed the pillows from the couch. “So, you don’t have to rush.” She smiled up at him. “It’s ok. You can fall anytime.” She pointed at the stuffed animals she cherished. “It’s safe!”

Peter sighed. “Morgan, what about your friends?”

“Well, you’re my brother.” She sat down, criss-cross applesauce, in front of him and her stuffed animal pyramid. With a bright, innocent smile, she added, “I care about you more.”

Peter’s heart swelled, and tears welled up in his eyes. He already knew Morgan was one of the best things in his life, but that just solidified her place in his heart. Morgan Stark’s brother. It’s just as good a title as Avenger.

Morgan brushed her hair out of her face. “You’re safe here.”

Peter tilted his head. “I know.”

“I know, too.” She shrugged. “Sometimes people need to be reminded though.” Before Peter could ask, Morgan continued, “Cause Daddy has nightmares a lot. Mommy, too, so sometimes when they’re scared, people tell them they’re safe. Because they forgot.” Just as quickly as the girl had slipped into a troubling and heavy topic, she slipped into a happier one. “But sometimes, I get to save them!”

“Save them?” Peter laughed. “Can you tell me the story?”

“Please!”

“Please, tell me the story?”

She nodded. “Daddy was talking to Uncle Steve outside. Mommy kept saying I should” -she paused to rub the carpet, curious about how it felt against her hands- “that I should play inside, but Daddy looked really mad, so I kept” -hair got caught in her mouth, so she brushed her hair back again- “kept on trying to go outside. So, I went outside-”

“Aha!” Peter beamed and showed off his unstuck right foot. “I’m good!”

“Fall!” Morgan commanded with a giggle.

Peter looked at her sternly. “Hey, that’s not nice.”

“But I built it!” She pointed at her stuffed animal cushion.

“Please.”

“Please, fall!”

Peter smiled at her, and Morgan chanted, “Fall! Fall! Fall!”

And in true Spider-Man fashion, Peter flipped off the ceiling and right into the pile of toys and couch cushions.

His little sister gasped at the explosion of toys. She picked up two that flew out and promptly jumped in with a stuffed Hulk in one hand and an alpaca plushie in the other.

Peter laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Got you! I got ya, Morgan!”

“No-o-o,” she laughed as she tried to scramble out of her brother’s grasp. “Peter!”

“Still got you!” He hugged her tightly.

“Wait!” she whined. She patted his face, mindlessly trying to find a button on Peter that would make him stop tickling her. “I didn’t finish my story. Can I finish it?”

“Oh yeah. Of course, of course.” Peter held Morgan so she could sit in his lap. Then, he arranged the animals around them so they stood up properly as if listening to a speech. Those he couldn’t reach by hand, he webbed and directed so they did. After all the animals were listening, he nodded. “Ok, so you went outside. Then what happened?”

“Well, Mommy told me to go outside so that I can save Daddy. So, I did!” Morgan nodded. “I went outside, and daddy came back inside, because the house is safe.” The little girl paid attention to her Hulk toy, moving the arms up and down.

“Is he smashing something?” Peter asked. He grabbed the pegasus toy. “I think he needs a ride.”

Instead of agreeing, Morgan gasped. “I can show you!”

“Show me what?”

“The house!”

He smiled. “Which part?”

“No-o, not like that.” She tilted her head so far to the side that her balance almost faltered. Peter made sure it didn’t by holding little Morgan in place. She continued, “no, the day I saved Dad! Tha house saved it.”

“Saved it?”

“Mhm.” She got off of Peter’s lap, the pegasus, Hulk, and alpaca forgotten. In a confident voice, she asked, “Friday, when did Uncle Steve visit?”

“Steve Rogers last visited a month and two weeks ago with his husband and daughter.”

“No, I don’t want that one.” Morgan rocked back and forth. “The one where I saved Daddy. When Uncle Steve wasn’t nice.”

Friday was silent for a few seconds. “Are you referring to the day Mr. Stark invented time travel?”

That caught Peter’s attention. Of course he knew Tony was one of the co-inventors of time travel, but he didn’t know any details.

“Peter, what does referring mean?”

“Oh, uh,” Peter gulped, “referring means talking about, Morgan.”

“Oh.” She turned back to the wall. “Can you show that day? When Uncle Steve was outside?”

“Of course, Morgan.” Soft blue lights scanned the house from the ceiling to the floor. As the lights engulfed the house, Morgan grabbed Peter’s hand, said, “Come on,” and led him to the porch. Just before Peter left the house, he spotted a hologram of Ms. Potts holding a slightly younger Morgan by the couch.

On the porch, the lights were there, and just as Morgan had described, a hologram of Mr. Stark was sitting down, his face tight and his jaw clenched. His fingers were also twitching every so often. Whoever was with him was lucky he didn’t have the suit.

Then, Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Rogers were standing before him. Mr. Lang, Ant-Man, nice guy, was sitting next to him. Made sense to Peter. Mr. Lang was another co-creator of time travel.

Then, the sound came on.

“-your plan to save the universe is based on the Back to the Future?”

Scott scoffed. His eyes wandered and tried to see if a shred of confidence appeared so he could grab onto it and be at least a little confident in his answer. None did, because his “No” was shakey at best.

Tony leaned forward and nodded. “Good. You had me worried there cause that notion,” his voice sharpened, “That’s not how quantum physics works.”

Ms. Romanoff spoke up, “Tony.”

The two met eyes, and Tony almost deflated. Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Stark had a sibling-like relationship. At least, that’s how Peter saw it. They always ended up on the same side, no matter what, no matter how. They were loyal to each other, and when they weren’t, it was under drastic circumstances. This must’ve been one of those moments.

She tried, “We have to take a stand.”

In Mr. Stark’s holograms, Peter could see that the sympathy and care that he held for Ms. Romanoff was disregarded. She had hit a nerve. “We did stand,” he stated, his eyes resting on Mr. Rogers. “And yet here we are.”

Captain America, or well, the first Captain America, averted his gaze and stared at the house, but everyone knew he wasn’t admiring the architecture.

Mr. Lang tried, “I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife. A daughter.” He took a deep breath. “But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did. And now, now, we have a chance to bring her back, to bring everyone back! And you’re telling me that you won’t even-”

“That’s right, Scott.” Mr. Stark smiled, and if you didn’t know him that well, you’d think he was being cocky. That look, that practiced-and-perfected smirk, says I don’t care about the world or you, I only care about my wife and daughter. But Peter knew better. Even Morgan knew better. Their father figure was putting up his walls again, hiding something. Morgan wasn’t sure why or what he was hiding. She was intuitive, but she was still five. Peter, however, he understood. Mr. Stark didn’t want to entertain the thought because he didn’t want to give himself unwarranted hope. His walls were there to hide the grief and pain, and he couldn’t take a chance knowing that there was no chance for a positive outcome.

“I won’t even.” Mr. Stark shrugged. “I can’t.”

The hologram door opened, passing right through Peter and Morgan, and a tinier Morgan appeared. She went straight for her dad. “Mommy told me to come and save you.”

Mr. Stark’s walls fell, just enough to let his daughter in. He held her close. “Good job. I’m saved.” He smiled and tucked his head into her neck. The walls came back up, shielding him and his daughter from anything and everything. With a sigh, Mr. Stark stood up and admitted, “I wish you had come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly happy to see you guys. Table’s set for six.”

Mr. Rogers grabbed Mr. Stark’s arm, and he stopped.

“Tony, I get it. And I’m happy for you. I really am.” He leaned in close, desperate to convince his former friend of their endeavor. “But this is a second chance.”

Mr. Stark only smiled. “I got my second chance right here, Cap. Can’t roll the dice on it.” He held onto his daughter even tighter, as if just talking about time travel more would take her away from him. He turned to the rest of them. “If you don’t talk shop, you can stay for lunch.” And just like that, Mr. Stark carried Morgan back inside.

“Thanks, Friday,” Peter said.

The holograms disappeared. “Anytime, Peter.”

The teenager gulped. He never realized that Mr. Stark was so hesitant about time travel. He understood why. Morgan was amazing, and according to what he just saw, when time travel first came up, the idea wasn’t fully developed. It sounded insane and impossible, so of course, if someone came to Mr. Stark with that they’d be shut down on the spot.

Still, Peter couldn’t help but wonder.

“Why don’t we go inside, huh, Morgan?”

“Pete-er,” she whined.

He laughed and sat on the porch. “Come on. We can play princess?”

“No, I don’t wanna play princess.”

“Ok, what about CEO?”

She shook her head.

“General?”

“Nuh-uh.”

He laughed. “What do you wanna be?”

Morgan hummed. “I wanna be a unicorn doctor.”

“Hm.” He clicked his tongue. “I got a better idea.”

“What?”

“Unicorn and pegasus doctor.”

Morgan’s face lit up. “Yeah!

So then, Peter whisked her inside the house and played unicorn and pegasus doctor with her. It was full of rainbow nail polish and headbands with ribbons and fake syringes and hiding Mr. Stark’s tools from Morgan when she needed more things to use during her operations.

Soon enough, the little girl yawned three times. It was near nap time. Peter tucked her in bed, with her pegasus by her side, and as she dozed off, she whispered, “I love you tons.”

“3000, Morgan?”

She nodded and yawned again. “3000, big brother.” She smiled, and her eyes drooped until they were closed. Peter’s heart swelled. Yeah, she was a great sister. He brushed her hair and gently pulled the ribbons out of her hair.

When he was sure she was fast asleep, he left the door a tad open and paced in the hallway.

Would it be an invasion of privacy to ask? Friday must record most things that go on in the house, probably picks up on intonations, yelling, accelerated or slowed heartbeats, etc. Mr. Stark did have plans for that before the snap. That must mean Friday recorded when time travel, as in actual time travel, was invented. Sure, Mr. Lang and Dr. Banner helped invent it, but even the two of them said Tony found the “key” to time travel.

Peter would be able to witness it. Right in front of him!

Maybe he shouldn’t ask Friday.

Wait… Ask Friday. Peter looked at the ceiling and whispered, “Friday, do you think Mr. Stark would mind if I look through your holograms?”

“Based on his previous conversations with you, there’s an eighty-six percent chance he won’t get mad at you.”

He sighed. “Well, what’s the chances of him being ok with me seeing the day time travel was invented?”

“I have calculated a ninety-two percent chance that he won’t be mad at you for accessing the holograms on that day. Would you like me to pull them up?”

Peter pursed his lips. It would technically be a learning opportunity. A bit of an invasion of privacy, but didn’t he already do that when Morgan… No, that couldn’t count. Morgan is Tony’s daughter. Of course, she could have access.

Peter gulped. “Uh, just the moment he discovered time travel. First successful trial, maybe?”

“Of course. I suggest going to Mr. Stark’s office.”

“Right.” Peter cleared his throat. “Thank you, Friday.” He peeked into Morgan’s room, just to make sure she was still sleeping, safe and sound. After checking for the third time, because did he really see her or was that his imagination, he rushed down the stairs to Mr. Stark’s office. The blue lights had just reached the floor, and there, in front of him, was Mr. Stark.

The genius’s hands were frozen in the air, manipulating the hologram in front of them, an inverted mobius strip if Peter remembered correctly. “Ok, Friday,” Peter said. Now or never. “Play the hologram.”

“Give me” -Mr. Stark pointed- “that eigenvalue. That particle, and a spectral decomp.” He sighed. “That’ll take a second.” he picked up his drink, and even though Mr. Stark didn’t consume alcohol at that time, the way he drank from his organic juice reminded Peter of movie characters who carelessly drank a swig of beer or alcohol or whatever they called it.

“Just a moment,” Friday said.

Tony let out a soft, “Ah,” shook his head, and didn’t even bother looking at the running simulation.

Peter did, though. And he saw the for loop go on and on for thousands and thousands of times in seconds. Each one calculating a supposed success or failure. It flashed on the screen. Success. Success. Success. Success. Succes.

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out. I’m just gonna,” Tony trailed off, and he eyed his model. He never paid attention to the blinking light of Success on the side of the screen, but he did watch as the model transformed and ran itself.

“Model rendered.”

There it was. Inverted mobius, successful time travel simulation. With a 99.987 success rate. Out of ten thousand simulations, 99,987 of them were successful.

Mr. Stark froze, just for a second, and fell right back into his chair. Shocked and confused, he stared at the model again, his eyes flickering to the list of successes the model calculated, its success rate, the specifics of the most successful and efficient model, and you could see the gears in Mr. Stark’s head as he pieced it together.

Because maybe he made a mistake, and this model was useless. Maybe Friday miscalculated, and this model was useless. Maybe he was hallucinating because of alcohol withdrawal, and this model was useless. But no, the calculations in Mr. Stark’s head came out the same. He didn’t make a mistake. Friday didn’t make a mistake. And he hadn’t experienced hallucinations in years.

Mr. Stark breathed out, another piece of evidence that reassured him. He wasn’t dreaming. He was breathing. He was awake. This was real. He slapped a hand over his mouth and double-checked his calculations.

Still correct.

Time travel had been invented.

Mr. Stark threw his hands out. “Shit!”

“Shit.”

Peter had to laugh. Because there was Morgan, once again, being her own little hero. Everyone knew that Tony Stark needed someone to ground him sometimes, and his daughter was the best one for the job.

Mr. Stark turned around in his chair and playfully shushed his daughter. “What are you doing up, Little Miss?”

Peter coughed. “Friday, turn it off.” He promised himself, nothing too personal. Just research and intellectual purposes.

“Shit,” little Morgan repeated.

“Friday.”

“Right away, Peter.” The holograms disappeared.

Peter stared at where the first successful model of time travel was rendered, and he squealed. “I can’t believe I saw how time travel was made!” He laughed and ran his hands through his hair. “That was, so awesome. Especially accounting for the fact that that was the, what, the one-thousandth model?”

“Actually, it was the 3247th model.”

“My god, that’s amazing. I can’t believe I just saw Mr. Stark invent time travel.” He giggled. “I just saw Mr. Stark invent time travel!”

“Would you like to see related memories?”

Peter blinked. “Related? To time travel?”

“Indeed. I have recorded several moments during that day that may relate to Tony’s invention of time travel.” The lights appeared again, and a hologram materialized in the kitchen. Peter followed Friday and asked, “What’s this hologram for?”

“This is a memory I recorded specifically because Tony’s heart rate rose exponentially during this time of day. After a few minutes and a lot of pacing, he retreated into his office to render the first, successful model of time travel.”

As the hologram sharpened, showing Mr. Stark in the middle of washing dishes, Peter inhaled through his teeth. “I don’t know. I really shouldn’t be looking through these.”

“You were looking at the first successful model’s creation for intellectual purposes. Is that correct, Peter?”

“Yes.”

“From my calculations, there is a ninety-seven point five eight percent chance that this is the moment Tony decided to try inventing time travel. If that is true, it would be better for your education purposes to see what motivates an inventor.”

The boy gritted his teeth. He really wanted to see it. It was like going back in time to see Archimedes exclaim, “Eureka!” for the first time. That, and Peter had never seen Tony wash the dishes before. “What are the chances Mr. Stark is ok with me seeing this?”

“Ninety-nine point nine percent. Should I play the hologram?”

“Ninety-nine?” Peter asked.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Huh.” Peter crossed his arms. “Ok, but we’re turning it off after this one, ok? No more memories or holograms for me. Not today.”

“Of course, Peter.”

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever it was. Maybe it was Pepper who convinced him to try it. Maybe Happy had called him. Or even Morgan. She could’ve asked about Mr. Rogers and that could’ve made Mr. Stark want to invent time travel.

“Ok,” Peter said. “For… intellectual purposes. Play it, Friday.”

The sound of water hitting porcelain filled the room. Tony was washing a dish in the sink. However, his mind must’ve been occupied, thoughts of time travel or the Avengers maybe, because he forgot to turn the water off. So, water sprayed on the shelves, wetting clean, dry glasses, some decorative pots, and two picture frames.

Peter looked at the shelves. A picture of a smaller Tony, maybe when he was ten or so, at a science conference or fair. Behind him were three people. His mother was crouched down next to him, holding him tightly. Peter vaguely recognized the other woman. He’d seen her pictures at Shield. She had brown curls, and her smile, though faint, was filled with pride. Then, there was a man next to her, and Peter knew who that was immediately. Edwin Jarvis. The man behind the first AI and part of Vision.

Peter smiled. It was nice to know that Mr. Stark had amazing parental figures in his life. Out of everyone, he deserved it. Just as Peter was going to examine the second picture, Mr. Stark’s hologram reached through him and grabbed it, drying the wet picture frame with a towel.

“Tony’s heart rate reached its peak here,” Friday stated.

“Here?” Even though Mr. Stark was just a hologram, Peter scrambled to look over the taller man’s shoulder without disturbing the image. “Wait, what was the picture of?” Pepper? Morgan? Happy? Rhodes? Maybe Vision? A group picture of the Avengers? Unable to see it past Tony’s hologram, Peter whined, “Wait, Friday, pause the hologram.”

“Of course, Peter.”

The hologram paused. Mr. Stark was holding up the picture frame, frozen.

Peter let out a sigh of relief. He tiptoed around Mr. Stark and looked at the picture.

“Wait.” He blinked and rubbed his eyes. However, it was the same picture he saw before. But, how could it be? He pinched himself, but no, he was awake. Peter rubbed his eyes again. The picture remained.

The teenage boy tilted his head and let out a breath. “How-” He gulped. “That’s me? How is that me?”

“Tony and you took pictures when you confided in him that people didn’t believe-”

“No, uh, Friday, I know when the picture was taken.” He scoffed. “But, why would, I don’t, why would a picture of me convince Mr. Stark to try time travel?” Peter shrugged. “I just-”

“I do believe it’s because Tony cares about you.”

“I know he does,” Peter said. “But I didn’t think-” Peter huffed and crossed his arms. “Wow. I just...” He bowed his head and looked at the picture again, just to make sure. He cared about Mr. Stark. Of course, he did. But that was because life or the universe or what-have-you took his father and his uncle away from him. He was a boy who wanted a dad, another role model to look up to, so when Tony found him way back when, he knew he was going to look up to Tony just like he looked up to his father and his uncle.

But, to think Mr. Stark thought of his as a son? As someone to care for, and maybe fight for? That was almost unthinkable. Mr. Stark is a certified genius, graduated from MIT, a superhero, a former CEO, a proud husband, and a loving father to his daughter. Why would he even bother caring about some kid from Queens?

Peter didn’t realize he was crying until something wet hit his hand. He sniffed and tried to take deep breaths.

“Hey, kid.”

Friday shut off the holograms.

“Is Morgan down for her nap?”

Peter held his breath. Mr. Stark had just come back home.

Without another thought, he hugged him.

“Woah, Peter? Hey, what’s going on?”

Peter only let out a small whine and buried his head deeper into Tony’s embrace.

Tony dropped everything and wrapped his arms around his kid. “Hey, it’s ok. You’re ok.” He tentatively tucked Peter’s head under his chin and held him close. He inhaled slowly and steadily. “You’re ok,” Tony repeated. “I’m right here.” He patted Peter’s back.

With a nod at the stair, Friday understood and typed a message in the air. Morgan Stark is napping in her bedroom. Would you like me to send a camera up there?

Tony shook his head. He was good. His daughter was safe and sound and in bed, and Peter was just having a bit of a crying spell. But he was going to be ok. Everything was going to be ok. Tony closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and hugged Peter even tighter. “You’re good, kid.”

Peter nodded. He pulled away and sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Tony asked. Morgan was fine, so that means something in the house could’ve broken. Wasn’t that big of a deal. He could always replace it. “Kid, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yeah, I do.” He sniffed. “I looked at the holograms, and I saw some pictures.” His lip trembled. “I’m sorry.”

Tony tilted his head. “Hey, it’s ok.” Tony scanned the room, and he took a seat so he could see Peter, eye to eye. “Why are you sorry about that?”

“I invaded your privacy.”

Tony almost laughed. Instead, he just smiled. “Pete, kid, that’s ok. You didn’t invade my privacy.” He scoffed. “You really think Friday allows just anyone to access the holograms?”

Peter wiped his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Tony rubbed Peter’s shoulders. “Happy would kill me if he could see all of them. Security breaches everywhere.” He smiled. “You got nothing to worry about. And you can look at any holograms you want, ok?”

Peter nodded.

“Ok, Peter?”

“Ok.”

“There we go.” Tony sighed. “Now, let’s wipe those tears, ok?” He reached over the table to grab a tissue and handed it to Peter. “Your aunt’s gonna have my head is she knows you cried.”

Peter laughed. He blew his nose, and when it was obvious he needed more tissues, Tony grabbed the entire box and gave it to Peter. “Feeling better, kid?”

“Mhm.” Peter wiped his eyes and blew his nose again.

“Cool.” Tony slapped his thighs and got up. “So, tell me, how was my other kid today?”

“Great.” Peter smiled. “She actually helped me. When I got stuck to the ceiling.”

“Stuck?” Tony poured Peter a glass of water. “Feeling ok today?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just, you know, anxiety.”

“Been there.” He put the glass down in front of Peter. “She helped you?”

The boy giggled. “She made a pile of stuffed animals for me to land on.”

Tony laughed. “Now, you’re really part of the family. It’s official. Morgan never lets anyone touch those things.”

“Yeah.” Peter gulped down some water and sighed. His throat definitely felt a lot better. “Actually,” he blushed a little, “uh, Morgan, she called me, while I was stuck, she called me her brother?” He lifted the glass to his lips again.

Tony nodded. “Well, she asked for a brother a few years back.” The genius went to the sink and picked up a sponge. “Told her about you.” He started to scrub the dishes. “So it makes sense.”

Peter sputtered. “You what?”

Tony laughed. “You’ve gotta stop being surprised.” He shrugged. “You’re family, Pete. You and your Aunt May. Always welcome here.” Tony smiled at Peter, and the boy couldn’t have been happier.

He and his aunt were always family. But expanding it? It didn’t sound bad. Amazing even. Peter sipped his water again. Mr. Stark considers him family. He’s a part of the Stark family. If you had told ten-year-old Peter this, he probably would’ve fainted. In fact, Peter was feeling faint in that moment.

Still, he gulped down his excitement and managed to say one word. “Cool.” His voice cracked.

Tony suppressed his giggle and nodded. “Yeah. Definitely cool.”

[zayashmaya]

Gods and Monsters - 3 - Off to the Races.

Other chapters here!

Marvus x Reader; SFW

Your favorite clown comes to your rescue.

My ... man is a tough man But he's got a soul as sweet as blood red jam And he shows me, He knows me Every inch of my tar-black soul

- Lana Del Rey

You didn’t see Lanque for the rest of the evening, which was all fine and well once you were two drinks into some serious shit on the dance floor. Remele certainly knew her audience — the purplebloods in attendance had quickly taken control once they trickled in with fashionable lateness, and everything had been set up for the ensuing clownery that followed. With Marvus at your side and your veins flooded with dubious alcohol, you felt nigh unstoppable, letting loose your inhibitions among a sea of trolls who would have killed you on the spot in a fit of capriciousness.

But a few of the clowns had come by to ruffle your hair and honk at you in recognition for having been a frequent presence in the church. You’ve certainly come far from the days of running for your life and getting trapped in an alleyway with a purpleblood seconds away from bludgeoning you to death. You kind of like them now.

And you definitely liked the way Marvus watched you as you swayed to the dizzying rhythm of pulsating music. Even his hands caressing your bare skin sent ripples of ticklish excitement throughout your body. It felt so different from when you had danced with Lanque. More on your terms, so to speak, and thus more thrilling. All in good fun, you thought. It’s not like he was serious about his flirting, anyway.

The purplebloods finished off the party with a frenzy of rapping that Marvus felt compelled to join. Stelsa had found her way to your side and eagerly followed your lead as you both giggled and danced your sanity away. You recognized some of Marvus’s lyrics from a few performances you had attended, and screamed your head off with the crowd as you sang along, feeling the heat of the lighting and the blurring colors collapsing all over you in swirling synesthesia, until you embraced the euphoric sensations and became one with the music.

Chucklevoodoos, a voice whispered through the cracks of your fraying mind.

Who cares, you answered back. I want this. I want this.

I feel whole.

Marvus was watching you. You felt compelled to direct your entire attention solely to him, not to any other highblood or to Stelsa but to him and him alone, and for a moment you heard the cheers of partygoers distorted into screams of pain before he beckoned you over with his arms spread out in theatrical showmanship. You clawed your way through the masses and into his waiting embrace, laughing for no reason and yet there was every reason to laugh —

“Snap out of it babe,” he said as he directed the microphone away from him, and even though the cracks were suddenly breaking and collapsing like shattered glass, all you could think of was how he said it just for you, only you, only you —

“What if I don’t want to,” you whispered, but nobody heard your admission.

As your fingers dug into the lapels of his jacket, you pressed up against him and scanned the crowd in a moment of clarity. Stelsa. Was she safe? Did you imagine all of the blood and death and fire?

Marvus’s arm was wrapped around your back as he held you close during the madness. You ran a shaky hand through your hair and wondered where the night would lead, because the highbloods were getting a little too rowdy. A gentle pat to your behind pulled you out of your thoughts, and you threw a scandalized look to Marvus as he grinned down at you. With the microphone poised before him, he called out to the partygoers, “Hey.”

That simple word held all the weight of an important command. The crowd fell silent, and a shiver rolled down your spine. You pressed your forehead to his side and tried to make yourself seem as small as possible, conscious of being stared at by so many people.

“Yall havin a good time??” The crowd roared to life in answer. “Lemme hear u give it up for the mutherfxxer who made it all happen, ufeelme?!”

Amidst the chorus of cheers, Remele bounced up to the clearing where Marvus waited for her, snatching the microphone out of his hand and baring her fangs in a wide smile as she addressed her attendees. You huffed a quiet laugh as you listened to her shill out her latest art pieces and advertise her gallery.

“ — and I woulde like to thank one of my best supporters, my very goode friend and my darling muse!"

You jerked your head towards Remele as she zeroed in on you. “Please, no — “ you begged, but she already grabbed hold of your upper arm and snatched you out of Marvus’s embrace. You looked back at him in a silent plea, but he only winked at you and flashed his toothy grin.

Remele whirled you around to face the crowd. The spotlight was on you now.

You meekly waved and prayed for the ground to swallow you whole. “Tonighte, dear guests, I have a confession to make,” she dramatically said, her eyes flashing in excitement. “Were it not for our resident alien, my gallery might never have gotten so muche recognition! Because she was responsible for the gruesome murder of a highbloode mere steps from my gallery, all of those perigees ago!"

”Remele!” you screamed in a whisper, withering away from the crowd as it erupted into bewildered laughter and indiscernible heckling. “What are you doing?! They’re going to kill me!”

And not just the attendees, but Marvus, too. God, you could hardly bring yourself to look at him, because even though Remele was technically the one who killed the purpleblood, you were still pathetic enough to get yourself into trouble in the first place, and the last thing you ever wanted was for him to catch wind of your fucked up escapades, and now your mind was racing a mile a minute but Marvus was just looking at you with raised eyebrows, and he didn’t look angry, just thoughtful —

“Oh, relax,” Remele cut into your mental breakdown, ignoring your attempts to claw your way out of her grasp — she was ridiculously strong — and continued her speech. “In honor of my muse, I have channeled my inspiration for that fateful nighte to create — “ She threw her arm out in a wide arc and directed everyone’s attention to a covered canvas mounted to a wall. ” — this!”

A rustblood scuttled over as if on cue and tore down the white fabric covering the canvas. All eyes were on Remele’s latest painting. Perhaps now was your chance to abscond? Maybe you could use this precious time to find Stelsa and hightail it out of here with one last ‘fuck you’ to Lanque —

Except your attention was entirely captured by the painting as soon as you dared to glance at it.

You were the subject, pressed flat against a dark wall and limbs splayed out like a cheesy damsel in distress, gripping the brick behind you as you stared at the viewer, all wide-eyed and afraid. And, much to your mortification, you were naked — or rather, lacking any sort of clothing while retaining no bodily features characteristic of your sex. Remele had never seen you naked, after all. Rather imaginative of her to paint you completely sexless and alabaster white, with red and purple stains blotched over your figure as though you were covered in blood.

What the fuck, Remele. Did you really look that pathetic to her that night?

Your mouth simply hung open in shock while the audience ascertained the painting with thoughtful murmurs. Remele waited with baited breath, whispering to you, ”Just you waite and see, I’m gonna be fuqueing loaded after this!”

Suddenly, a voice rose high over the crowd and called out what appeared to be a price.

Remele squeeled. You felt your soul leave your body. That better not have been Zebruh.

As if on cue, an intense bidding war began over the painting. You closed your eyes and hung your head, letting Remele flop your arm around like a limp noodle in joy as the price rose higher and higher still. This was it — your lowest point. Your cowardly self on display for other people’s pleasure, awaiting a lifetime of being gawked at by a privileged highblood. And worst of all, you weren’t even going to get a cut of the profits.

Within minutes, the haggling price had skyrocketed to what you imagined to be astronomical numbers. Most of the bidders had dropped out as well, with just a select few voices trying to outbid each other. A small part of you was surprised that they hadn’t attempted to resolve the conflict with good, old-fashioned murder and mayhem. Judging by the growing agitation in the bidders’ voices and the heckling of the crowd, that outcome might not be far off from the future.

And indeed mayhem ensued. Four highbloods had rendered each other into a pile of limbs and — and bicycle horns — before Remele threw her hand into the air and called out, “Looks like it’s time to wrap this shitshowe up! Going once, going twice, to the gentlemane with the facepaint and broken horne — "

A hand came down over your head and ruffled your hair. Somehow, you knew everything would be okay.

“Na b i’ma take dat home tonite,” Marvus cut Remele off. “I’ll take it for dubble tha price k :o)“

”Solde!” she shouted into the microphone, and you breathed a sigh of audible relief.

Yet your momentary reprieve was ruined once you realized that Marvus had spent a ridiculous amount of money on a scandalous painting that he had no need for. A sense of guilt hung over you as Marvus waited for the canvas to be brought to him, keeping a steadying grip on your shoulder and commanding someone nearby to hand over the payment on his behalf.

“You really didn’t have to do that, Marvus,” you quietly said, tugging on his sleeve to catch his attention.

He merely grinned. “I did dis for a more selfish reason than u think.”

“Why? Don’t tell me you actually wanted that thing?”

“Fxxk yea i did brohime, i wanna b lookin at dis erry day to remember i got one dangerous lil mama who could knock me flat on my azz n paint da walls w my blood. Shit’s hot yo.”

“I’m sorry to break the fantasy, but Remele was pretty much embellishing her story. I didn’t actually kill anyone, I would never do that!” you whined.

“Mebbe not then,” he said, his eyes staring straight through you as though he knew more than you let on. “But u prolly did a whole lotta damage to otha ppl jus by being on dis planet. A wicked shorty like u can’t survive here for dis long w/o causing sum mischief. Basically, u iz one dangerous lil alien.”

Discomfort gripped your heart. Marvus was right; you were inadvertently responsible for a few deaths. Thankfully none of your friends suffered from your magnetic ability to welcome danger —

— Karako bleeding out from his stab wounds, seadwellers laughing in the distance —

— Daraya engulfed in flames as she fought through the pain —  

— Boldir’s life withering away right before your eyes —

— Zebruh’s limbs torn apart in a frenzy of bloodlust —

You jolted and blinked through a haze of phosphenes coloring your vision. What were you thinking about again?

“Hey, it b ok u know.” Right, Marvus. Focus back on him. The painting is under his arm now, mercifully covered up so you didn’t have to look at it again. You welcomed the cold seeping into the skin of your shoulder from his touch. “U ain’t gotta b lookin so sad, doll. It just b dat way around here.”

You sucked in a shaky breath and mustered up a smile. “I know. And I guess if there’s anyone who I’d rather keep the painting, it would be you.”

Marvus lightly papped you on the cheek with the back of his hand. But before he could get a word in, Remele suddenly draped herself over you from behind. “Hello my sweete muse, please text me whenever you’re free againe; I’m going to make a livinge off of you!”

“Of course," you hastily replied, eager to worm your way out of her grasp and disappear. “I’m so … grateful that you painted such a — a charming rendition of me. You’ve truly outdone yourself!”

“It’s fxxn aces,” Marvus pipped up.

“Thank you so muche!” she gushed, and you had a sneaking suspicion she was amping up the charm for his sake. Her tactics were so shameless sometimes, but you loved her for it. You weren’t that much different from her in that regard.

“By the way, Remele, have you seen my friend Stesla anywhere around here? You know, the  tealblood who speaks without stopping to breathe.”

“Ummm,” Remele hummed, tapping her cheek with a finger as she looked around. “She shoulde be lurking somewhere in the back, methinks. Thanks for introducing us, she’s gonna be so fuqueing useful in the long run. Juste like you!”

“How kind of you to say,” you humorlessly said.

“Mhm! Anyway, I muste get going. Goodbye, sweete muse!” And off she went, gone in a flash to conduct more mischief.

Marvus tapped you atop your head. “Hey.” You looked up to his sneaky face. “U lookin about as done w all dis as i b. Wanna bounce?”

Oh you sure as fuck did. The weight of tonight’s eventful party was finally starting to come down on you. “How do you always know? I’m starting to think you have some sort of savior complex.”  

“Juss for funny lil hornless aliens who hang around weirdos.”

“Are you a weirdo, too, Marvus?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Hellz yea fam, but maybe not as much as u.”

“I am not!" you laughed, lightly swatting his forearm as you two walked towards where your instincts told you Stesla might be. “But seriously, thank you for getting me out of here."

“Don’t b thankin me just yet lil mama — maybe I got sum nefarious plans cookin in my think pan,” he teased and winked.

You chuckled. “I’m sure whatever you’re thinking of would be a million times preferable to being mobbed by frenzied trolls.”

“Ye tru. Lemme take u home, babe. Need me a lil bit of company in my sicknasty limo.”

“Oh, you didn’t come here with the other purplebloods?”

The corner of his grin turned up higher. “Sure did, but they ain’t who i’m lookin’ to take home tonite.”

You furrowed your brows at the strange phrasing — why would Marvus be so eager to take me back to my dilapidated hive instead of enjoying his friends’ wild company — but Stesla’s fashionable physique was in sight beside the restrooms, dabbing her face with a small powder puff while looking into a compact mirror. You called out to her in greeting, and she instantly perked up, hiding her cosmetics away in her purse before skipping up to you.

“OH MY GOODNESS DARLING THERE YOU ARE I THOUGHT I WOULD NEVER GET TO YOU TONIGHT HOW ARE YOU DID YOU SEE THAT INCREDIBLE PAINTING MY IT WAS SIMPLY EXQUISITE I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT THE MARVUS XOLOTO ACQUIRED IT — “

You practically pounced on her with a killer hug that would have knocked the air out of a human. But Stelsa was a force of nature in her own right, and as such, merely squeaked and hugged you back.

“I am feeling a little overwhelmed right now, Stelsa,” you confessed, murmuring into her chest before slinking out of her grasp to look at her. “I think I’m ready to leave now. Did you want to stay a little longer, or can I drop you off back home?”

“I SIMPLY CANNOT LEAVE JUST YET THERE IS STILL MUCH TO DISCUSS WITH REMELE AND SO MANY NEW POTENTIAL CLIENTS TO MEET HERE I WILL HAVE TO STAY BUT DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME PLEASE HURRY ON HOME AND REST YOU MUST BE EXHAUSTED AFTER THAT BIDDING DEBACLE AND I SEE THAT A CERTAIN SOMEONE IS WAITING FOR YOU — “ Stelsa peered over the top of your head in the least discrete way possible. Unbeknownst to you, Marvus waved back. “MY OH MY IT’S A GOOD THING I MANAGED TO PRIMP YOU UP BEFORE THE PARTY JUST LOOK AT YOU GETTING LUCKY HMMM?”

Your mind had wandered during her monologuing, so it took you a moment for her last statement to shock you back into reality. “Th — that, that isn’t what’s happening!” you hissed in a quiet whisper, blushing brightly at her implication. “He’s just my ride home, don’t be preposterous. Anyway, are you sure you’ll manage on your own here? I’m worried about leaving you with all of these highbloods around. What if you get caught in another deadly moshpit or whatever?”

Stelsa giggled and placed her hands on her hips. “DON’T BE SILLY I CAN HANDLE MYSELF JUST FINE I DON’T WORK OUT FOR NOTHING YOU KNOW.” Oh, that’s right. You forgot Stelsa was ripped.

“I’ll trust you … but I’m not letting you go that easy!” You fished out your phone and quickly got to texting. “I’m going to let Tyzias know that I need to leave you here. And you better send me a message when you get home, or else I’ll go looking for you, and you know what happens when I have a mission in mind; things can either go horribly right or horribly wrong — “

“YES YES DARLING I WILL BE SURE TO DO SO THANK YOU FOR BEING SUCH A LOVELY FRIEND NOW DON’T KEEP YOUR OTHER FRIEND WAITING TOODLES AND BE SAFE!”

She urged you along before you could get another word in, and you nearly stumbled like a clumsy fool if not for Marvus catching your fall. “Reddy reddy, buddy?”

“Ready ready,” you breathlessly replied, graciously allowing him to lead you away hand-in-hand.

The crowd parted for the both of you on your way out. You caught a glimpse of a few glares and reddened eyes being thrown at you, and if you had a death wish, you might have stuck your tongue out at them. But you were a flimsy human with too much to lose now, so you stared straight ahead and focused on matching Marvus’s quick strides.

The quietness of the outside was jarring to your senses after enduring the loud music and boisterous socializing. Alternia's twin moons cast their colored rays onto your shimmering skin, lighting it up in a dazzling shine that could not meet its full potential under artificial light. Your vibrant glow must have caught Marvus's attention — he turned to look at you with widened eyes and paused his step. “Damn, lil mama,” he smoothly cooed, beckoning you into a twirl as he admired you from all angles. “Now I know I said earlier that u be lookin good an all dat, but dis is sum wild shit.”

You giggled. “It’s just the wicked glow of the Mirthful Messiahs watching over me,” you said and pointed to the sky with a smile. “Get it? Two moons, two prophets.”

“Amen, baby. The messiahs are errywhere and in errything,” he replied, guiding you towards the limo with an arm swung around your shoulders.

The driver was waiting patiently, bowing in respect as he opened the door for you. For a brief moment, you spared Lanque one final thought and wondered how his night had gone after your mini feud got cut short. But with Marvus hot on your heel as you clamored into the limo, you decided that your mental energy had better trolls to focus on.