bubblesong: 🐚 <lj user="bubblesong">. { dns } (combat 🫧 in being alone.)
ᒪITTᒪE ᗰEᖇᗰᗩIᗪ " ѕιяєη " | σℓ∂ тαℓєѕ ѕqυα∂. ([personal profile] bubblesong) wrote in [community profile] synthneon2025-07-27 08:24 pm

🫧 mcu/nikke || ❝ i'll send an sos to the world. ❞

Good morning everyone. What should we do today?

[ The familiar squished and squeaks fill the room. The white room with three walls, a roof, and floor. The remaining wall is more of a window that can be shielded and shielded at will from those on the other side. An observation window. Like she is an exotic animal at a zoo.

Maybe... she really is nothing more than that.

She looks down at the bouncing bubbles at her feet. Different sizes, different colors, faces. They have a life of their own to a degree. Otherwise she may have lost her mind years and years ago. Not that she hasn't had guests or visitors. They've all been from the man's company. Testing her bubbles, testing her, trying to force her into doing things for them. Every time she refused and they returned her to her room. That might be for the best.

NIKKEs have been forgotten about after all.

Little Mermaid stands. She stretches. The bubbles around her roll away. Her eyes land on the bubble decorations she has used to make the room feel something like a home. Bubbles like seashells that string across the room. Bubbles that look like plants. Bubbles she can dissolve the moment the men return to try and force her to work with them. She will refuse again and again. It's why she has the device that looks like a mask around her mouth. A device used to stifle her voice and paralyze her if needed. She's fought against it and had disastrous results. The blood dried to her ears as the high frequency rang in her mind and she was rendered unable to move.

Stane had said it was the price for not helping them--helping progress. He said they had something else now and that her services would most likely not be required anymore. Except, in case, "it couldn't be powered." Then her heart would be the key to leading them down the road they "needed to correct." She had no idea most of what it meant, but her hands curl over her chest.

Her core.

Though... she would admit... a small part of her does wonder if it would be better if she...

No, I can't. The promise we made was to rewrite our ending. I can't give up. It would put all those words to waste. It would hurt Cinderella's dream. I can't.

A deep inhale and she closes her eyes.

Sometimes the deep abyss of loneliness is consuming.

I hope they're okay. My bubbles haven't brought any of them here... I hope Levi got away safely. That she's had a good life. That she found people to make her smile.

She has those thoughts often. The same ones. Over and over.

Little Mermaid sighs then and turns to her bubble creations. Eyes glance up at the ceiling to see that she hasn't over slept the timing. A certain pause is made in the fans and cooling systems. She uses that small window to send out bubbles. Bubbles that she hopes could lead her friends to her. She can't break out from the inside and if she uses her kotodama or even speaks too loud the paralyzer sitting next to her ear goes off. She can't even remove the mask and she has tried. ]


Okay... let's get ready to make bubbles again today.

[ Maybe these bubbles will finally reach her friends.

Her hands extend to form Spindrift as normal.

Then, she stops.

There's an unfamiliar sound on the other side of the blocked observation window that acts as a door. Footsteps. Different than the ones she knows. They're distinct and somehow have an echo of power to them. Stane's footsteps had the same emotion behind them. The way people walk when they are in full control.

She feels panic grip her. The extended hands move to her sides and all the bubbles in the room break down and roll back to her hands. They create two large bubbles that she combines into one between her hands. She bends over to be ready to shoot Spindrift forward and use it as a weapon. She can't command her bubbles like normal--not without setting the device attached to the "mask" over her mouth off--but she can still shoot her weapon if needed. Especially if Stane has returned for what he swore he would if "things didn't work out."

Her fingers curl into Spindrift.

It's been a long time since I fought... ]
doesntpaint: (0230)

[personal profile] doesntpaint 2025-12-01 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
[ Tony shoots Happy a flat look the moment he starts in on his "90 miles an hour" speech. Maybe it's not the first time he's heard something like it. ]

Yeah, yeah, I know. Some of us are responsible adults who sleep. Thanks, Mom. [ He waves a hand dismissively. ] Go home, get horizontal. Not like that; don’t wink at me on your way out. Unless it is like that. What you do at home is your own business.

[ He can't stop himself from smirking at the other man. It's friendly ribbing, something he's done with Happy for years. If anyone can take it, it'll be him.

Tony watches Happy leave, then glances down just in time to catch Little Mermaid's expression. ]


He worries. It's his hobby, you know. Sometimes it's like having a dad who's actually around. But I know what you're thinking, and you don't have to be like me. I'm a terrible role model for anything involving rest, self-preservation, or common sense. Why's that? Because common sense can sometimes be boring. Note that I said sometimes.

[ He watches her reach out for the railing, staying just close enough that if her hand slips on the rail, he's already in reach.

He keeps watching her as he notes how she looks around, taking in the cars, and then his computers and his tools. ]


Yeah, I have a routine, kind of. Ideas get stuck in my head so I come down here to work on them before I forget what they are. It's kind of a nightly thing, and it drives Happy nuts. And just so you have plausible deniability, this is me warning you that it's a vicious cycle. Don't get into it if you can help it.

[ Once she's on the stool, he moves to quickly adjust it without making a production of it, one hand steadying the base so it doesn't wobble under her.

With that done, and with the taser exposed, Tony steps in to get a look at it. ]


Okay, let's see what we're dealing with here. Oh, and by the way, if anything stings, or buzzes, or feels wrong, poke me or something. We need to figure out how bad this is and how fast I can fix it, because it's been stuck on you long enough.
doesntpaint: (016)

[personal profile] doesntpaint 2025-12-22 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
[ Tony leans back against the edge of the table, arms crossed loosely, letting his weight settle while his eyes trace the lines of the prototype. The haphazard connections, the mask pressing against the skin... It doesn't look like something he'd make. It's obviously got his fingerprints on it, but it's not up to his usual standard. ]

You probably figured it out; family's complicated for most people, but it's definitely complicated for me. Let’s just say my dad showed up more in theory than in practice. Oh, he tried, and I guess he did his best, but- yeah.

[ He shifts slightly, leaning forward just enough to tilt his head, amber eyes scanning the mask and the taser connections. ] Honestly, I figured you'd be more worked up. More freaked out. This could backfire if I touch anything the wrong way; I won't, by the way, because it's me, but how would you know that? [ He dismisses the idea that she trusts him, because why would she? She doesn't know him at all. ]

I get it though. My job is figuring this out and getting you out of this alive. And I will, don't get me wrong. [ But if he doesn't, and she ends up fried, that's on him, like it's always been.

After a few minutes of near-silent tinkering, minus the occasional thinking sound from Tony, he exclaims: ]
Aha, I think I got it. [ He always knew he would, but tech has a funny way of being complicated; maybe that's why he likes it so much. ]
doesntpaint: (070)

[personal profile] doesntpaint 2026-01-04 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Tony blinks for half a second, caught off guard, not by the words, but by the smile. He recovers quickly, because that’s what he does, but his expression softens in a way that isn’t performative. ]

Hey, you’re welcome. And you don’t have to call me Mr. Stark. Makes me feel like I should be signing permission slips. Just Tony is fine.

[ He shifts slightly, giving her space now that the collar’s down, making sure she’s really okay before continuing. ]

For the record, you don’t look ghastly. You look like someone who’s been through hell and came out the other side still standing, despite someone's best efforts to keep that from happening.

[ And then, almost as if he's suddenly feeling awkward, he starts fiddling with his tools to buy himself some time. ]