#had to draw some spinni appreciation

[day-colors]

My piece for the kirby 30th anniversary artbook!

#had to draw some spinni appreciation #i hope this project ends up being completed eventually! #kirby #kirby fanart #spinni #spinni kirby #gaw gaw #bio spark #art stuff

[waitimcomingtoo]

Dummy

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter is the only one of the Avengers who doesn’t tease you for being a little slow 

Masterlist

Now you weren’t exactly dumb.

You were just a little slow.

When you joined the Avengers last year, the team learned pretty quickly that your mind moved at a different pace than everyone else. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing and it didn’t keep you from doing your job, it just meant you were the butt of most of the jokes. Every time one of your blunders happened, your intelligence would be mocked in some way. You knew it was all in good fun, but it hurt to it feelings every now and then. The only person who never poked fun at you was Peter. And for that reason, he was your favorite on the team.

“How are there 23 minutes left in this movie and I still don’t know any of the characters names?” Steve wondered as you all sat in the couch in Stark Towers, watching a movie on a particularly rainy afternoon.

“I think the main kids name is Phoenix. That’s all I got though.” Sam shook his head, just as confused as Steve.

“The dogs name is Benson.” Bucky mumbled quietly.

“Who names their kid Phoenix?” Peter wondered out loud as he shoveled popcorn into his mouth. The two of you were tucked into the corner of the couch, sharing a blanket and bowl of popcorn. You looked at him like he was crazy when you heard his question.

“Ummm, Joaquin Phoenix’s parents.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You turned your attention back to the movie as a silence settled in the room. You felt everyone’s eyes on you after a minute and looked around to see everyone staring at you with a dumbfounded expression.

“What?” You asked shyly, shrinking down a little in your seat in discomfort.

“That’s his last name.” Sam stated, chuckling a little under his breath. You realized your mistake and felt your face heat up.

“Oh.” You mumbled, your voice getting drowned out as the rest of the Avengers laughed at your expense.

“Did she really just say that?” Nat looked at the group with a playful smile. Everyone, excluding Peter, nodded as their laughter died down.

“Oh my God.” Steve chuckled. “That’s so stupid.”

There was that word again.

He didn’t mean it maliciously. Steve was the kinda of guy who ushered spiders into a magazine so he could let them outside. And yet, it still stung when he said that word.

Stupid.

You smiled sheepishly and tried to focus on the movie, snuggling closer to Peters side until it ended. You were fully aware that he was the only one who didn’t laugh, and you loved him that.

And maybe you loved him for a few other reasons too.

~

“Alright. Who has money for the subway?” Sam asked the group as he patted his empty pockets. You were on another late night trip to get cookies from a specific shop in Times Square, leaving without Tony’s knowledge. Everyones hands went to their pockets and collectively made a face.

“Not me.” Rhodey shrugged.

“I don’t have any.” Bruce added.

“I don’t even have pockets.” Nat realized.

“I have gum.” Peter proudly produced a silver wrapper from his pocket. “Oh wait, it’s just a wrapper.”

“You’re telling me we’re earth’s mightiest heroes and we’re broke?” Sam shook his head is disdain.

“I gave my last dollar to a guy in the subway for playing music.” Peter defended himself.

“What was he playing?” You asked him as you tiredly leaned against his arm.

“A mandolin.” Peter answered, making your face scrunch up.

“That’s a language.” You laughed at him slightly, feeling empowered by having the upper hand. Everyone looked at you and a few of them snorted.

“Mandarin is a language.” Bruce said gently, not wanting to embarrass you further. “Not mandolin.” 

“What?” You blinked in confusion and looked to Peter for answers.

“A mandolin is an instrument, dummy.” Sam chortled. You smiled tightly as the group laughed at your mistake, looking down to hide your blush.

“Oh. Sorry. My bad.” You laughed shyly as you tucked your hair behind your ear and pretending to read a nearby sign.

“That’s okay.” Peter spoke up in your defense. “They sound really similar. Plus like, French, French Horn. Who knows what’s going on?”

“Yeah.” Bucky said softly. “Or like, bra’s aren’t pointy anymore.”

Bruce nodded like it made perfect sense and Sam just shook his head as he texted.

“What?” You whispered to Peter, not knowing what he meant.

“He’s from the 1920s. He’s still adjusting.” Peter whispered to you out of the corner of his mouth before looking at Bucky. “That’s the spirit. Kind of.”

“FRIDAY is sending a car.” Sam informed the group. “This is never happening again. The cookies aren’t that good.”

“They’re pretty good.” Rhodey shrugged, but wanting the late Nate tradition to end. Sam looked at him for a moment before breaking into a smile.

“Hell yeah they are. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

~

Bruce found you in the lab the next day with a pin between your teeth and a pencil behind your ear. Papers with drawings of suits were scattered around the table as you measured a piece of black fabric.

“What are you doing?” Bruce wondered as he took a seat across from you. You glanced up at him before marking a dot on the fabric.

“Mr. Stark asked me to help him with the new suits. I’m trying to make a fabric template for Nat’s gloves.” You told him as you smoothed the fabric out.

“Is it hard?” He asked, watching you intently as you worked.

“Not really.” You shrugged and took a step back to examine your work. “Okay. How many holes do we need? 1,2,3,4,5.” You counted your fingers. “Okay. Five holes.”

You sat back down and put five dots where her fingers would be to mark where you had to cut. You heard a slight chuckle from Bruce and looked up at him curiously.

“Did you just count your fingers?” He asked slowly, wanting to make sure he saw what he thought he had. “To know how many fingers Nat has?”

Your face burned when you realized how dumb you looked, in front of a scientific genius no less.

“Oh, Uh, yeah.” You stammered, feeling very insecure with him watching you now. You moved slower than before and second guessed moves you’d already made a hundred times. Bruce sensed your discomfort and got out of his seat, tapping the table twice as he thought.

“Have you ever heard the expression “the lights are on but nobody’s home’?” He asked you and you were grateful he changed the subject.

“Yeah, I think I have.” You smiled, proud of yourself for knowing something.

“It reminds me of you.” Bruce said so politely that you didn’t realize it was an insult at first. He left the lab to find Tony, leaving you feeling embarrassed and a little hurt. Everyone knew Bruce could hurt you ten times worse with his words than the Hulk could with his fists, you’d just never been his target before. You slumped down in your seat and continued making the gloves, your mood significantly dampened from before he came in the room.

~

You walked into the kitchen the next morning, sleepily rubbing your eyes. You pressed a chaste kiss on Peters shoulder as you passed him, also more affectionate to your best friend when you were half asleep. You smiled at Rhodey, who was seated at the bar and skimming through a newspaper.

“Did you eat yet?” You asked him through a yawn as you got out yogurt and fruit for yourself.

“No. I needed my coffee first.” He smiled sleepily at you and held up his mug.

“Oh, you mean your sugar with a spoonful of coffee?” You teased him. “Yeah, it’s good you got that out of the way.”

“I prefer it this way. The sugar wakes me up.” Peter defended his drink as he took a sip.

“That’s what the caffeine is supposed to do, mi amor.” You laughed as you ruffled his bed head ridden hair. He was about to make a comeback when his stomach rumbles loudly.

“Someone’s hungry.” You remarked. “Do you want eggs?”

“No thanks.” Peter shook his head. “I can’t eat eggs alone.”

“Well I’m here. And Rhodey’s right there, so you’re not alone.” You told him. “And I can grab Steve and Bucky. They’re just in the other room.”

Rhodey looked up from his newspaper with raised eyebrows and looked at Peter. Peter set his mug down and made a face at Rhodey that told him not to say anything. You looked between the two of them in confusion as you wondered what was going on.

“I meant alone as in without toast, sweetness.” Peter said gently, not wanting you to feel dumb for misunderstanding. “But I am glad you’re here.”

“Oh.” You faked a smile and shrugged like it was no big deal. Peter had handled the situation with ease and you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you normally would. That is until…

“You know, Y/n, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” Rhodey nodded before going back to his newspaper. You froze with your spoonful of yogurt midway to your mouth and looked at him. He didn’t actually call you dumb, but it was implied. You looked at Peter to see if he was thinking the same thing, but his face had nothing but kindness on it.

“You are pretty.” He agreed with Rhodey. “But you’re a lot of other things too.”

You cracked a smile and rubbed his back for a moment in appreciation.

“Thanks Peter.” You said softly and went back to your breakfast. Not wanting to worry him, you ignored the way Rhodey’s comment made you feel and tried to push it from your mind. But no hard you tried to focus on other things, you had one thought prodding at the back of your head.

You were dumb.

~

A week went by without anyone poking fun at your intelligence. You had a sneaking suspicion Peter had something to do with the lack of comments, but you said nothing. It was nice to have a break from all the teasing and it made hanging out with the team more enjoyable. You all lingered around the kitchen one day, eating all different kinds of lunch when Tony came in the room.

“Eat up, funky bunch.” He clapped his hands. “We have a mission in Alaska to train for and I need all hands on deck. Cap, do you think you can teach Peter that spinny thingy you do?”

“I can try.” Steve looked at Peter and nodded.

“Great. I’m getting a manicure. I’ll be back around noon.” Tony informed you all.

“Wait, I thought you said all hands on deck.” You tilted your head at him.

“I did. Which I why I have to make sure my hands look the best.” Tony waved flirtatiously, wiggling his fingers around like a teenage girl. He smirked as his action was met with some eye rolls and a few chuckles before leaving the room.

“I can’t believe we’re going to Alaska.” Peter nudged you excitedly and you smiled with glee.

“Is Alaska the same as the North Pole? Or am I thinking of Antarctica?” Sam wondered out loud.

“No. The North Pole is all the way at the top. Alaska is below California. Like by Texas.” You said confidently, proud that you knew information that someone else didn’t. Your pride quickly dissipated when you saw the teams faces twist in amusement.

“Wait a minute.” Steve looked at you like you were joking. You shrugged, letting him know you weren’t. Sam burst out laughing and clapped his hands as the rest of the team began to laugh.

“Absolutely not.” Sam grinned as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Yes it is.” You insisted. “Look at any US map. It’s on the bottom by Hawaii.”

You were getting angry now. You knew you were right this time and they were still teasing you.

“No.” Bucky shook his head is dismissal. “No.”

“Alaska is below California on every map I’ve ever seen. You’re telling me I’m wrong?” You our your hand on your hip and stared at them.

“100%. I am 100% telling you you’re wrong.” Sam said between his laughter. Peter came to your side and showed you a picture of a map on his phone.

“Alaska is US territory but it’s not connected to the rest of the states. They just put it below California on maps to show it’s a part of the US. Thats not actually where it’s located.” He said quietly. You looked at the map for a few seconds before you realized he was right. And if he was right…

You were wrong.

“Oh.” You smiled apologetically and averted your eyes. “Oops.”

You turned around and pretending to clean up the kitchen to hide your searing blush. Your fingers clenched around your sponge when you heard the teasing laughter from behind you.

“Sometimes I wonder how you made it out of high school.” Steve joked as he threw out the crusts of his sandwich. The comment stung you and you began to scrub the counter faster so you could leave the room sooner. Peter could see your shoulders tense and put a reassuring hand on your back. You gave him a tight lipped smiled before putting your dish in the sink.

“I’m still wondering how she made it out of first grade.” Nat teased you and she poked your side.

“I can’t believe she made it out of the womb in the first place with nobody telling her where to go.” Sam said, making everyone laugh loudly. You abruptly threw a dish in the sink, making everyone go silent. You tuned around slowly and faked a smile.

“Haha. Yeah.” You forced a laugh. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

You swiftly left the room before anyone could catch your tears. You felt stupid for even getting upset over it, but their words hurt. Feeling like you were always the dumbest person in the room was taking a toll on you, especially when you weren’t the only one who felt that way. Peter watched you leave with sympathetic eyes, feeling his own frustration bubble at the sound of the team laughing at you. He thought they had listened the first time he told them to stop making fun of you, but they clearly hadn’t. After seeing the pained look on your face, Peter made a decision.

It was never going to happen again.

~

“Ugh. I’m never gonna get this right.” Peter groaned as he messed up the move Steve was trying to teach him once again.

“You’re getting too much inside your head. Just let it happen naturally.” Steve instructed as he resumed his stance. Peter tried the move again, wiping out and landing on his side with a thud. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you spared with Nat.

“I can’t.” Peter got up and rubbed his arm. “I can’t do it.”

Steve nodded, like he was accepting Peters defeat. You stopped sparing and looked at Peter.

“Yes you can. Come on, Peter.” You encouraged him. “Everyone told Van Gogh that he couldn’t be an artist because he only had one ear but he did it anyway.”

The room feel silent, as it often did when you spoke, and everyone looked down.

“Oh dear Lord.” Rhodey sighed and hung his head and he snickered. You could see everyone else fighting back laughter or cracking a smile, yet saying nothing.

“What?” You crossed your arms in annoyance, looming to Peter for help.

“He chopped his ear off after becoming an artist.” Peter said kindly. “He wasn’t born without one.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Tony beat you to it.

“Speaking of ears, do you think of you shone a light in one of Y/n’s ears, it would come out the other ear?” Tony quipped, making everyone laugh. The tips of your ears burned as that feeling of stupidity sunk in again. You undid the Velcro on your boxing gloves and pretended to wipe sweat from your face as you rushed to the bin where the gloves went. You kept your back to the group and pretending to be putting your gloves away when you were really concealing your pained expression.

“Yes.” Nat jeered. “Yes I do.”

Your shoulders slumped with exhaustion as you turned around, making every effort to keep your face neutral. Your face didn’t give away any signs of sadness, but your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping the bin gave your true feelings away. Peter noticed this and felt his jaw clench. If you weren’t gonna tell them to stop, he was.

“Leave her alone, guys.” He commanded the crowd before looking at you. “Thanks for the encouragement, Y/n. I’m gonna keep trying.”

“It’s fine.” You nodded curtly. “I’m gonna hit the showers. I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

You walked out of the gym, pausing in place when you heard Sams voice.

“Hit the showers?” He laughed. “We just started.”

“Shhh. Don’t confuse the poor girl any further.” Bruce joked back. You looked back at the gym with your eyebrows knit together, taking a quiet step closer to hear what they were saying about you without you there.

“She’s probably like, ‘whats this magic closet that makes rain?’” Rhodey imitated your voice, making you sound as dense as possible.

“Knock it off guys. It’s not funny.” Peter snapped, but the teasing continued.

“Or like, ‘this shampoo says it adds volume, but I used it and I can’t hear any louder than before’.” Tony mocked you, skipping around a little like a child. Your face contorted in misery as they made fun of you. You knew who they really were, and they were good people. They didn’t intend to hurt your feelings, they were only joking around like they did with everyone. Steve was teased all the time for his old fashioned dialect and no one lets Tony live down the kimono incident. Still, all their insults and mockery cut you like a knife.

“Ahh, I love that girl.” Nat shook her head with a smile. “She’s so dumb.”

“She may be slow, but she’s entertaining as hell.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“I said knock it off.” Peter repeated, getting a reaction this time.

“Aw. Peters mad because we’re teasing his girlfriend.” Nat pouted and pinched Peters cheek. She quickly realized how wholesome she was being and punched Bucky in the face to maintain her lethal assassin persona.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter grumbled. Now that you were out of the room, he was the next target.

“He’s right. Hey, maybe that’s why you guys haven’t gotten together yet.” Rhodey shrugged. “She’s too stupid to realize you’re in love with her.”

That was all you had to hear. You ran towards your with tears running down your face. Thanks to Peters advanced heating, he heard every heavy footstep.

“Okay. Maybe she is a little slow.” Peter shook his head in disdain at the team. “But you guys are idiots.”

~

You were quiet the entire way to Alaska, keeping to yourself and silently looking out the window. Peter attempted to talk to you once or twice, but he could tell you wanted to be alone. The Avengers completed the mission within a few hours with minor damage to the area. Peter focused on his job but found himself looking for you every now and then, being as you usually stayed together during missions. He didn’t see you anywhere and assumed you were doing your own thing on the other side of the field. He heart rest assured when he saw you boarding the jet, still looking reserved and aloof from the rest of the team. You took a seat by the window and rested your chin on your hand, looking out at the bleak landscape in front of you as the jet took off. Peter didn’t engage in small talk with the rest of the team and wistfully stared at you instead, silently willing you to cheer up.

“I think that went pretty well.” Rhodey nodded and the team agreed. “But where were you the whole time, Y/n? Picking daisies?”

Peter held his breath as you slowly turned around. You gave Rhodey a frigid smile and shook your head.

“We came during a blizzard so I used my powers to create a heated force field around the area we were in to prevent frostbite and give you guys and easier time seeing in the snow. We were also at a higher altitude than any of us are used to so I kept the air pressure to sea level standard.” You said simply. “And I assumed there would be smoke from the battle so I rounded up the nearby animals and made a separate for field around them to protect their lungs.”

The room went silent, something you were used to at this point. But instead of everyone falling silent because they were laughing at you, they were impressed.

“Oh.” Rhodey blinked in surprise, not expecting the answer he was given.

“I also picked this flower.” You smiled proudly as you produced a Forget Me Not from your lap. Peter couldn’t keep the grin from breaking through on his face. You were the center of attention once again, but in a good way this time. Everyone was pleasantly surprised with what you had done and it showed.

“I didn’t think about the altitude.” Nat realized.

“I had no idea there was a blizzard.” Steve added, looking dumbfounded.

“Because I kept you from knowing.” You shrugged. “I wanted you guys to focus on the mission.”

“I mean, I knew. I just didn’t tell you guys because I was so distracted by my buffed and polished nails.” Tony twiddled his fingers again, showing off his freshly manicured nails. You all laughed, breaking the tension in the jet.

“Well look at that.” Sam looked impressed. “Y/n knew something we didn’t.”

It was almost a compliment, but it still made you feel insecure. You didn’t want it to be this mind boggling every time you did something useful.

“Thanks, Y/n. That was really smart.” Peter said softly as he patted your knee. You put your hand over his and squeezed it. It was the first time someone called your smart, and it made you feel good.

“It was really smart.” Sam said skeptically. He stared at you for a moment before poking your side.

“What are you doing?” You swatted his hand away.

“Just making sure you’re still in there.” He eyed you suspiciously. Peter could sense the attention was making you uncomfortable and changed the subject.

“Are we almost home?” He asked Tony before peering out the window. The flight was a little over 7 hours on a normal plane, but the Stark jet was much quicker. The flight would only take a few hours, but Peter was not known for being patient.

“Yes, Peter. We are almost back at the tower. You can get your diaper changed and your bottle as soon as we get back.” Tony sassed him, making him shrink in his seat. Your body language had completely changed and your were now sitting straight, facing the group. Peter was glad you were feeling better and didn’t even mind Tony’s comment.

“Guys, let’s be civil. We’re all tired. We all want to get home.” You said calmly. “Let’s just focus on how pretty the sky looks tonight. Isn’t is pretty, Peter?”

He gazed at your profile as you looked out the window at the stars, admiring how pretty you looked from the side.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.” He conceded without ever taking his eyes off you. You shot him a smile before looking straight ahead at the dashboard.

“Wow, the moon is huge!” You pointed time a large yellow crescent that could be seen through the window.

“That’s literally the reflection of my banana on the windshield.” Tony deadpanned. He may have been right, but it still looked pretty.

“Should we make a wish?” You asked Peter, ignoring Tony’s comment.

“On the banana?” He asked.

“Yes.” You nodded. “On the banana.”

“Why?” Rhodey asked. “It’s not like people wish on the moon.”

“It feels like we should.” You said with confidence.

“Yep. She’s still in there.” Sam chuckled. And just like that, your confidence receded.

“I hate it here.” Bucky sighed heavily and tuned out of the conversation.

“It must be so peaceful being you, Y/n.” Tony remarked.

“Why do you say that?” You wondered.

“Because instead of thinking about your problems and mistrials, you simply don’t think at all.” Tony said suavely. In only a better for minutes, you’d gone from being the hero to the laughing stock of the group. The sly comments and taunting laughter made you feel like you should stop opening your mouth entirely. You faked a smile and turned back towards the window, tuning out the rest of the way home. Peter chewed his lip as he stared at you, feeling useless to helping you out. The team just wouldn’t let up, no matter how many times he told them to stop. Knowing you weren’t in the mood to talk, he scooted closer to you and put a comforting hand on your back. You smiled warmly at him and rested your head on his shoulder, listening to him point out the constellations the whole way home.

~

The next day, you and Peter were sitting in the balcony, working on some new gadgets for Mr. Stark when Peter made a startling discovery.

“Where’s my right web shooter?” Peter stood up in a panic when he realized it was missing. “I left it right here.”

“Maybe a bird carried it off.” You shrugged as you twisted a tiny screw into Peters left web shooter.

“I’m being serious, Y/n.” Peter stated. “Mr. Stark is going to kill me and turn me into a decorative rug if I lost it.”

“I’m being serious too. We live in New York and I see birds around here all the time.” You told him as you continued your work. “And you know the pigeons here are feral. A bird probably stole it to pay for his child support.”

Peter usually entertained your antics and joined in with his own batch of sarcasm, but he wasn’t in the mood. His web shooter was missing and their were actual stakes involved. Without his web shooter, he couldn’t be Spiderman. And without Spider-Man, he couldn’t be an Avenger.

“Can you be serious for once?“ Peter whined, picking up everything on the table to look under it.

“I’m just saying it’s possible, Peter. You never know.” You insisted as you put your screw driver down to help him look. You began looking in the flower pots on the windowsill that you and Peter had planted. Peter stopped his search for a moment, growing angry with you for wasting time. He didn’t know if you were joking around or genuine believed his web shooter was in the flower pots, but it made him frustrated nonetheless. A combination of his lack of sleep and stress over losing the webshooter manifested into a moment of unchecked rage.

“No, it’s not possible.” He snapped. “A bird didn’t steal my web shooter. God, do you have to be so stupid?” 

 The word hung in the air for a moment, settling in to the both of you. Peters eyes immediately softened, feeling instant regret for what he had said. You stopped trifling through the plants and slowly turned around.

“What?” You asked quietly. Peter tightened his lips into a line and tried to justify what he had said.

“I try to defend you but you make it so hard. Can you help me out a little here and not be so…” He trailed off when he realized he had only made it worse. Your face hardened and you looked disappointed in Peter, which killed him. He would have preferred anger or even sadness, but the disappointment killed him.

“So what?” You shrugged. “Finish your sentence Peter.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“No, really, go ahead.” You stated coldly. “You got this far. So what, Peter?”

He looked at you for a moment, getting that feeling of wishing you could turn back time just a few seconds to fix a mistake.

“So dumb all the time.” He finished his sentence with an unsteady voice. Your face scrunched up in a pained expression as you sucked in and let out a shaky breath.

“You were the only one who never called me that.” You whimpered before moving past him and going inside. Peter watched you through the open balcony doors as you disappeared into the hallway with a heavy heart. His mouth was open to apologize, but you were long gone. He’d seen you being ridiculed so many times already, and now he was the one doing it. All that talk about it never happening again, only for him to be the reason it happened. Peter couldn’t live with himself for another minute without you knowing how sorry he was. He took a step towards the doorway until he heard a pigeon land on the table. He watched it curiously for a moment as it pecked at the screwdriver you had been using before picking it up with its beak. It flew over to the edge and began to walk along the railing, still keeping the screwdriver in his mouth. Peter followed the pigeon, walking all the way down the balcony to find a large nest in the corner. He watched as it dropped the screwdriver into its nest, right next to his web shooter.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter.” Peter said in disbelief. Peter watched as baby pigeons poked out from inside the web shooter to greet the other pigeon.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter for his kids.” Peters eyes widened even more than they already were. Realized struck him and his shoulders slumped.

“She was right.” He mumbled, angry at himself more than ever. “I yelled at her and she was right.”

Peter wasted no time in rescuing his web shooter from the birds, offering them a nice biodegradable coffee cup in its place, and ran to the kitchen to make you a peace offering. He knocked softly on your door and didn’t wait for an answer before going in.

“I made you this cup of tea as an apology.” Peter stiffly held out a mug with an awkward smile on his face. You looked at Peter from your bed, eyes puffy like you had been crying. You stared at each other for a long time, you with a death glare and Peter with his awkward smile. Neither of you said a word as Peter continued to hold out the mug. After two full minute of silence, a bead of sweat ran down Peters face as he looked around nervously, never breaking his smile. You let out an angry sigh and decided to throw him a bone, crossing the room to accept his mug. You looked into the cup for a moment before looking back at Peter.

“This is empty.” You deadpanned.

“I don’t know how to make tea.” Peter whispered, never breaking eye contact.

“I’ve seen you make it.” You snapped.

“I forgot how to do it.” Peters eyes shifted nervously to the side.

“Bucky was in the kitchen, wasn’t he?”

“I know he hates me.” Peter talked over you as you groaned. “I know he does.”

“Just go away.” You tried to close the door but he kept it open.

“No.” Peter said firmly. “I came in here to apologize.”

“You see this?” You held up the mug for a Peter to see. “It’s my cup of care. And look at that” ,you dumped the cup over, “it’s empty.”

Peter stared at your demonstration with raised eyebrows, surprised that you were still able to be sarcastic when he hurt you. Peter took the mug from your hands and set it on the ground before slowly looking up at your face.

“You’re not stupid.” He said softly with all the sincerity his heart could give. You scoffed and folded your arms, looking to the side when you felt tears sting your eyes.

“Yes I am.” You said like you fully believed it, which was Peters worse fear. “Everyone says so. Even you.”

It hit Peter like a sheet of glass when you looked at him like that.

Like he was someone you didn’t want around.

“I didn’t mean to say that.” Peter apologized. “That is not how I feel. At all.”

“Don’t act like you’ve never thought about saying that before.” You laughed sadly. “Everyone on the team calls me dumb. It was only a matter of time before you did it too.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Peter repeated. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Bullshit.” You snapped. “You’re so full of bullshit.”

“I’m not full of bullshit.” He whined like a child and gave you puppy dog eyes. “I’m full of regret.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as he gave you his best pout, willing you to forgive him. Finally, you caved and cracked a smile.

“I hate you.” You stamped your foot and hung your head, frustrated with yourself for not being able to stay mad at him. Peter opened his arms and you walked into them, arms still folded angrily. You bumped your forehead against his shoulder before moving to rest your chin on it as he wrapped his arms around you. Peter nestled against your hair and sighed, happy that you had forgiven him but still saddened that he had hurt you in the first place. He could see the pile of used tissues on your bed and it killed him to know he made you cry.

“I didn’t mean to call you that. I really didn’t.” He said softly. “I’m the one who’s been trying to stop people from saying that.”

“But they still do it.” You sniffled. “Everyday I get called dumb or stupid or scalene.”

“I think it’s obtuse, not scalene.” Peter reluctantly corrected you. You pulled away and little and let Peter wipe the tears from your face.

“Maybe they’re right.” You shrugged and looked Peter in the eyes. “Maybe I am dumb.”

Peter kept your face between his hands, staring at you for a moment before sighing.

“I once sneezed so many times in a row that I peed my pants.” Peter deadpanned. “I was 17.”

“What?” You chuckled as you wiped your nose.

“I saw Bucky try to take a piece of toast out of the toaster with his metal arm and electrocute himself.” He continued. “And I constantly see Tony bumping into glass doors.”

“I don’t understand.” You squinted your eyes, but sure what point he was trying to make.

“Steve still picks up the phone and asks for the operator. Nat leaves her curling iron plugged in all the time. I do not think Sam knows the address of where we live and I’m pretty sure Rhodey can’t do laundry. He gets all his stuff dry cleaned, even his socks.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You asked.

“Because were all dumb.” Peter concluded. “We all do and say dumb things. You don’t know where Alaska is and no one in this tower can read analog clocks. If we’re all dumb, then maybe none of us are dumb. Or we all are. Who cares?” Peter shrugged, making you laugh. “And you were right. A bird did carry off my web shooter. So no, you’re no dumb. Or stupid. Or obtuse. You’re, uh, you- you…” Peter looked down at he fumbled over his words.

“I’m what?” You raised an eyebrow. You could finish his sentence last time, but this time you were lost.

“You’re…” Peter tampered off again, staring at your confused expression for a moment before pulling you into a kiss. Your hands clenched into a fist and slowly uncurled as you relaxed into the kiss. Peter pulled away too soon and let his eyes flutter open. They met yours and you shared a moment of hesitation, not knowing what happened rest next.

“I’m gonna be honest lovey, I didn’t really have an ending to that sentence.” Peter chris joes softly, his breath fanning your face. “That was mainly improv.”

“You’re pretty good at improv, Parker.” You cracked a smile and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I did a little bit of theater in high school.” He shrugged smugly, making you giggle.

“Mmm. I severely don’t want to hear about that.” You teased before kissing him again.

“Oh, I think you do.” Peter remarked. “Because I once went to the bathroom during intermission with my mic still on and the entire audience heard me peeing.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “You’re so stupid.”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @damnyoudameron @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23  @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @wendaiii @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @silteplaittais-toi @kickingn-ames @purefluff @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @ohnothezombies @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @anapocalypseinmymind @quacksonfics @marshxx @heyheycharlatte​ @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @buckybigbutt @cookiemonstermusic258 @awesomebooklover17

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #avengers x you #avengers x reader #marvel #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader

[ambertea]

fatherhood

Tentoo prepares himself for the birth of his child by trying to become the perfect dad.

It was strange, being a human.

It wasn't just that he had to watch his sugar intake now, or that his hair was receding at a worrying pace. It wasn't even the extraordinary amounts of drinking and eating he had to do, the peculiarity of human existence that forced him to constantly shovel things in his mouth.

(Read on AO3)

It was a culture shock, more than anything else. He had lived among humans for years, shared hundreds of years of his life living with their habits. But it was different, somehow. It was as though he was living abroad, rather than simply taking a holiday, and he often found himself struggling to untangle their bizarre social norms.

“Are you listening to me?”

He looked up, his eyes darting around the room. He had been engrossed in the newspaper, ticking off inaccuracies or improbabilities, and drawing tiny TARDISes in each white square of the crossword puzzle.

“Yes.”

Rose looked doubtful. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“So, what do you think?”

He hurriedly scanned the room, looking for something to have an opinion on. The walls were the same colour. The curtains, too. Even the windows looked just the same as yesterday.

“Good.” He nodded forcefully. “Good. Very good.”

“Great.” She grinned, and he relaxed.

She threw herself on the sofa next to him and stroked his shoulder.

“So, when should we start trying?”

He kissed her forehead, trying to gain some precious thinking seconds.

“Uh. Tomorrow?”

She held her head in his lap, gazing up at him with some strange human emotion.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

Oh.

He wanted to have a child. He really did. He loved kids, enjoyed their brutal honesty and vivid imaginations. He had had children before, of course he had, and although he didn't spend an awful lot of time thinking about it, he still thought of himself as a Dad.

The responsibility of being the father of Rose’s child, though, was something else.

Everything about her was perfect. She had a beautiful face and an equally magnificent soul. Hell, she had literally been a Goddess at one point. What if his silly genes were more dominant than hers, and rather than the wonderful baby that she deserved, she ended up with a child just like him?

The only solution, really, was to just become the perfect dad. So far, Netflix had told him it included a lot of DIY, and sometimes crossing his arms.  He could do that. His last body had been a wonderful mechanic, and he was sure he’d folded his arms at some point in 900 years.

The drill looked a bit scary. He would have felt better using his sonic screwdriver, but it wouldn’t have looked nearly as cool. Rose was watching him, looking concerned.

“Do you have to hold it in your mouth?”

He tried to talk, and spat the drill out, exasperated.

“Yes! I need to be holding your hand too. The baby needs to feel how good of a dad I am.”

She squeezed his arm and leant into his body.

“I’m sure they’ll know either way.”

He doubted it. Probably, they would be watching perfect Simon next door, with his massive toolbox and fancy shed, wishing that their dad could be equally handy.

“What are you drilling, then?” She asked, and he looked around the garden in panic.

He hadn't thought about that bit yet. He'd been flabbergasted by the sheer amount of attachments, and then annoyed over the stupid power chord that needed at least 3 extension leads to go anywhere useful. He'd had a vague image of himself drilling a bit of wood, and Rose clapping at his brilliance. But there wasn't any wood out here, the garden empty but for a few gnomes.

One looked up at him judgmentally, and he made a mental note to kick it when Rose wasn’t around.

“Uh – I thought I would practise, for now.”

“What, like just…turn it on?”

“Yep,” he said frantically. “A test run. See how, um, spinny it is.”

Rose dropped his hand, and he turned to her, offended. She was clutching her stomach, her eyes lit with – was that fear? Happiness?

“Rose? Are you okay?”

She nodded slowly, a small, gentle smile growing. Retaking his hand, she pressed it against her stomach, and he felt his single heart jump when he felt it.

“They’re kicking,” he whispered, dropping to his knees and pressing his ear against her stomach. The baby kicked him straight in the head, and he stared in wonder.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Okay, so maybe the drilling thing had failed. It was no wonder, really, he was a highly intelligent part-time lord, who couldn’t be wasting his time standing around all day just pointing hand tools at walls. His baby was unlikely to be properly impressed with that, anyway, being of superior intellect themselves.

Perhaps he needed to talk to an expert. An actual parent, one that had managed to raise an impressive child.

He thought about Jackie for a second and instantly squashed the thought.

Pete wasn’t laughing at him, exactly, but he certainly had a strange little glint in his eye that the Doctor didn’t appreciate.

“You want me to teach you how to…parent?”

The Doctor groaned. This had been a stupid idea. He turned to go, but Pete quickly grabbed his shoulder.

“Sorry. I was a mess when Jacks was pregnant, so I guess this is no different.”

“It is different!” The Doctor said, offended. “It’s Rose.”

“So just be there for her. Help her with things. I’m sure the baby would…respect that.”

The Doctor stared, wide-eyed. Pete was right. The baby was going to love Rose, just like everyone else who met her, and if he could be seen helping her…

“Thanks, Pete, bye.” He yelled, legging it out of the room.

“What are you doing?”

He frowned, offended, and the wooden spoon rolled off his tongue and onto the floor. Rose eyed it, eyebrow raised.

“How are you doing today, my darling?”

“When did you start calling me that?”

“I can call you something else!” He offered desperately. “Sweetie? Sugar? Love? Babe?”

“Do not call me babe.”

“Honeybunny?”

She was looking at him as if she was slightly concerned for his health.

“I’m making dinner.” He said quickly, gesturing to the wok. She walked over, suddenly interested, and peered down with a look that he couldn't decipher.

“Malteasers?” She asked faintly. He nodded.

“And bananas. And tea, too, for the sauce. All your favourites!”

She kept her face down, shoulders shaking. Probably, he thought, stunned in the face of his great generosity.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She finally choked out between gasps, patting him fondly on the shoulder. He puffed out his chest and went to go sort out the crockery.

“I think we should start buying things.” Rose said one day. Her legs were draped over his lap, his hands massaging her feet.

He looked at her in shock. He hadn’t even thought about all the things the baby would need, being more focused on Rose and her ever-changing moods. They were going to need so much stuff, and it was all going to have to be perfect, as well, lest the baby grew unhappy with its drab surroundings.

He knocked her feet off his lap and set off into a run.

“Why,” Rose asked, her hands on her hips, her stomach peeking out under her bottom, “do we need five cribs?”

“The baby needs options!” He insisted, gesturing at the cradles circling the room. They were all in different shades of white, with tiny little mobiles hovering over them. He had made the mobiles himself, fashioning tiny little Earth, Gallifrey and TARDIS charms to hang over the crib.

He frowned, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Maybe he should have gotten some different colours—he knew humans' fixation on pinks and blues for their offspring. Perhaps he should have picked up a few more.

“You don't think the baby will like them?” He asked, feeling a bit crushed.

Rose smiled, and hugged him, her round bump pushing into his belly.

“They’ll love them.”

Rose was in labour, and he was having a heart attack.

He didn’t like only having one heart on a good day. As a Time Lord, he’d loved Rose, but he’d also loved space, and the TARDIS, and pretty much any fascinating person he met. Now having only one, it felt like his whole body was focused on just her – everything else seemed so less important, less crucial for his day-to-day survival.

What if one heart wasn't enough? What if he couldn’t love their baby properly? What if the child grew to be unloved and unloving, unable to feel the wonderfully wide spectrum of human emotion, all because he had one, stupid heart and it was already used up.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Doctor,” Rose moaned, and he hurried over to clutch at her hand.

Rose was holding her baby.

No—his baby. No, theirs.

She looked up at him, her face pink and drenched in sweat, a soft, beautiful smile stretched across her face.

“Do you want to hold her?” She whispered, rocking the pile of blankets gently, and he nodded, dumbstruck.

Carefully, the baby--his baby!-- was settled into his arms, and he gazed at her, tears trickling down his face.

“Hello,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. Her tiny, pudgy little arm stretched out to him, reaching out towards his face, and his singular heart stretched and grew.

"She's perfect." He told Rose, who nodded, looking at him with yet another expression he couldn't untangle.

He looked back down at his daughter and ran his finger over her cheek, marvelling over how soft, how precious she was.

"I'm going to look after you," he choked out. "I'm going to be the best dad on Earth. You'll see."

The baby looked up at him, eyes filled with trust, and he thought that maybe, if he tried really, really, hard, he might just be able to do it.

#my family are in town and i have 0 time so please forgive any editing errors! #tentoo is a baby who must be protected at all costs #fics

[derekgoffard]

🎁, 📦, 🚆, 🌠, ☁️, and 💘 for Colin?

!!!! AHHH THANK U FOR SO MANY FUN QUESTIONS OH MY GOSH!!! :']]] Haha I wrote these last night and I was just spinning around in my spinny chair like :D while writing these HHJWJABHS I HAVE ALOT OF FUN. I REALLY DO LOLOL

This gets long so I'll put the rest under the cut!

🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving?

Colin puts huge value on handmade gifts! It's definitely DEFINITELY the type of gift he'd appreciate the most!!.

Even if your not good at crafts or making gifts he'd still be over the moon about it haha! You could literally draw a smiley face on a walnut and glue straw legs and arms on it and he'd get teary eyed over it HAHA!! He would be like, REALLY HAPPY, to receive a gift from anyone at all LOL! but he does really really treasure handmade gifts most of all :'].

In terms of gift GIVING- COLIN IS PERHAPS THE KING OF IT LOLOLOL!!!

Colin will put alot of work into giving a gift to someone! All of his gifts are handmade and it can take him weeks or even months to make in advance depending on what he's making!!

One of the reasons why he's so good at it is because he will probably cyber stalk that person to find out what they like LMAO!! (or if he knows the person better he might go into their search history too see what kinda stuff they were looking at hhgheha...) On the rare occasion that he atcually knows someone on a personaly HEALTHY level he'd probably have a good understanding of what that person's interests are/what kind of aesthetics they're into!.

While Colin does have a preference for cute pastel aesthetics, he has a HUGE respect for others aesthetic preferences! If your someone who's into punk styles he'd probably customize a leather jacket for you, or if your not into a particular style of outfits at all he'd probably make you a custom keychain or a phone case!

📦 PACKAGE - what are some "most likely to..." that can apply to them?

( LOL IM SORRY THIS PIC IS SO WONKY I DREW THIS ON MY PHONE BKAGH )

🚆 TRAIN - what is their answer to the trolley problem?

GAHA OHH THE GOOD OLD TROLLEY PROBLEM EHHBW.... If you were to ask him what his anwser would be to the trolley problem he'd probably ask you if there's anyway to just save them all and if you said no he'd just be " ohh man that sucks (๑´•.̫ • `๑)....kill that one guy then! (✿^‿^)"

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

He'd probably wish for something REALLY PATHETICALLY SAD LOLLLLLLLL.... something like ' I wish no one could ever dislike me ' or ' I wish I had the charisma and confidence to talk to anyone no matter the situation '. REAL FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS COLIN 🙄🙄🙄🙄 WHAT ABOUT WORLD HUNGER BOY 😭😭😭😭😭

☁️ CLOUD - a soft headcanon

Colin is a deeply, grossly, mushy romantic person 😭😭😭😭😭 he would LOVE pda and would want to kiss and hug everywhere no matter the place. Like I imagine he'd like to play dumb little... romantic games with his partner like, when their driving every time they stop at a red light or a stop sign they kiss or something like that GHRDH.

I'm not sure if this counts as soft or creepy but he would absolutely 100% know every like and dislike his partner would have, he'd do..questionable things too like: study their handwriting/typing patterns so he can copy it perfectly, memorize their daily schedules, He might even make a 'cosplay' of them if he gets really down bad GAHA. To him he's only trying to become closer to them but to like. literally anyone else I think creepy LOLLL.

💘 HEART W/ ARROW - what traits do they look for in a relationship? do they believe in love at first sight?

OOOHH!!!! This is such a cute question oh my gosh!! 🥺 Gaha!

Colin MOSTLY doesn't believe in love at first sight!! Surprisingly!!! His disbelief comes more out of insecurity then rational though, he'd be scared that if love at first sight WAS real and it DID happen to him, he wouldn't live up to that person's expectations ( aka his appearance is alot prettier then his personality LOL ). He also just doesn't think that could ever happen to him in the first place and the thought of other people finding love at first sight makes him feel kinda jealous so he avoids thinking about it GAHA!! ( Slightly related but if Colin were to get into a scenario where he did end up kidnapping Mc and they ended up in a romantic relationship ( either that be through like. STOCKHOLM SYNDROME OR NOT LLHGGG ) he would claim that "it was love at first sight! ♡" even though that really just means he decided Mc would be an easy kidnap target when he seen them LOL).

The traits that he looks for in a partner are all kinda basic tbh! If not a little sad LOL. He's never had anyone who could be emotionally present for him before so he has alot of trouble atcually coping and dealing with the strong emotions he feels, so he'd want someone who's patient and non judgmental!.

However the biggest thing he would want would be to feel that the person atcually likes him back LOL😭, If he gets delusional enough he can 'convince' himself that the person likes him back ( this works for any scenario, like if he has Mc kidnapped and he ends up really liking them even though Mc CLEARLY DOES NOT LIKE HIM- he'll get real delusional about how they love him back- even if deep down he knows they don't. Also if HE'S the one kidnapped- he'll develop a stockholm syndrome attachment to his captor very quickly hhhhhhhhhh).

Besides that he honestly doesn't seek out specific traits! He's really really open to LIKE. ANYONE WHO WILL LIKE HIM BACK LOL!!!

#THANK U SM AGAIN FOR THIS ASK :'] #gaha i was running around all day yesterday and today and when i checked tumblr today I SEEN A FEW MORE PPL SENT ME ASK GAME ASKS AND I- #BHAHWHHAHHAHHABAVJA💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖✨✨✨✨✨ GAAHAHA #i really love writing these!!! haha im just SORRY I TAKE SO LONG TO POST!! T_T #for real though thank you sm to everyone for being so kind abt my silly little ocs :'] <3!!! #also i got an ask about derek that made me audibly SNORT JBAHAHBAHJHBABH I LOVE THIS WEBSITE LOLLLLLLLHHAHVAHV #u guys are so fucking funny LOLLLLLLL LIKE 😭😭😭 HHHAHHSH #anyway omg these tags are so long BLAH IM SORRY GGGG #oc stuff #colin midland #ask #ask game

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

pinky and the brain - s1e3b: that smarts

here it is. lol.

episode summary: frustrated at pinky’s constant disruption of his plans (okay, brain, if you say so) brain invents a machine to make him smarter. it goes about as well as you think it would.

the rundown:

it’s acme labs.

unless this is just some cage in the middle of nowhere, i guess. i don’t know.

no, wait. definitely acme labs. brain is writing in his Mouse Diary, probably relating the weird dream he just had about being in post-war japan. he has a lot of those, it seems, probably because it’s a good way for the writers to keep the status quo.

mumble mumble grump grump mumble mumble

“ah!” like he’s just discovered something. you’re not getting anywhere with those formulae though, brain. ∞A2-A= 2 to the tetration is just absolute gibberish and it’s not going to help you at all.

still, i’m glad he’s found what he’s looking for. satisfied with his nonsense calculations, brain calls pinky over.

bomp.

“narf.”

“what were you doing up there, pinky.”

“oh!” says pinky, who has just remembered he’s british. “i was having a devil of a time cleaning the chimney, brain.”

“we don’t have a chimey.”

“oh, well. there you are then.”

yeah.

brain reassures pinky that he is nowhere near the ceiling, which is good, because we don’t want more asthma than this poor guy already has. instead, he proposes to pinky that he’s figured out why they haven’t taken over the world yet.

“oh, i know why, brain. it’s gremlins.”

LITTLE SPRINKLY SPRITES THAT CONFUSE US

ALWAYS TWIDDLING THEIR LITTLE FINGERS IN OUR EARS

“an interesting theory.”

i like how brain draws himself, here. with the little ¬¬ face. grompy.

“but i have reviewed our past efforts, pinky, turning the situations into numbers in an effort to locate the exact problem.”

“well that sounds, um. narf.”

“yes, i’m sure it does.”

luckily, he’s plotted them all out on his little graph plotter, which is apparently going to paint a picture of the thing that’s ruining their plans... because... that’s how numbers work.... apparently? coming from the guy who thinks you can multiply infinity by -2 tetrated, forgive me for being skeptical.

let’s see how this goes!

oh.

still, pinky looks like he wants to put it on the fridge, so it’s not all bad, i guess. “egad, brain! that looks like me! but flat!”

“it is you, pinky. my calcuations have indicated that you are the problem.”

ouch.

“p... pinky?”

the leering figure of brain in his Man Suit behind him doesn’t help the tone, and should also probably serve as a reminder that sometimes it’s-- well, we’ll get to that.

poor pinky. ):

brain rubs it in further by deriding pinky as a “spazzy, beetleheaded dufus.” he has.... diagrams, to match. this is all very rude and unneeded.

😭😭😭😭😭

“but you’re not getting rid of me, are you, brain? i mean you? working as a single? look at what happened to jerry lewis when he split from dean! all that stuff in your hair--”

<gay little hand flip>

“point taken.”

“but fear not.” <gay little hand flip in response.>

but brain has another plan! he is going to make pinky smart. so that’s not too bad, i guess? oh he’s making me change everything about myself! but at least he didn’t dump me.

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

i’m waiting for the christmas episode.

so brain gets pinky all strapped into the promare spinny machine.

he also makes this face when pinky asks why people don’t usually just make themselves smarter. so okay. he maintains that “the problem is in the execution”, but quite frankly i think it’s because most people aren’t into eugenics.

anyway brain activates the smartsotron.

it, uh. i don’t know why this shot was taken from this angle. i’m sorry. i’m sure, historically, it made a lot of people happy.

brain does some more scientific mumbling.

“fourty seven knots, six-- nineteen kelvin, fibbonaci, n minus one,”

“coming-- coming--”

in the nicest way possible, brain, i’m not sure he is.

“now!”

if you say so, brain. he goes off to pull the lever that. does that.

it has an effect.

the face of a man who is enjoying himself, apparently.

brain also shorts out the whole electricity for acme labs, which is very funny.

“pinky?” says brain, like he was concerned for his health like five minutes ago, when he put him into the bloody thing in the first place.

“oh, that was fun, brain! haha ha. narf. hoo! i’m all tingly! woo woo.”

“fun, perhaps, but obviously not successful.”

“oh, no, no, i think it was!”

“at first i thought the folded dipole wasn’t working as your centrefed, horizontally mounted conductor,”

“but frequencies below thirty megahertz--!”

“loud and clear! haha!”

“and i must say, brain, the peak value wave shape of the impulse voltage? glorious! i mean, hitting that maximum value without appreciable, superimposed oscillations! egad brain! brilliant!”

haha ha.

“YES!”

good for brain. the worrying implications of his assumption that making pinky smart would cure his tourettes??? we can worry about that later.

narf.

anyway, so tonight’s plan for world domination is that brain will pose as jimmy hoffa--

okay.

anyway, he intends to pose as jimmy hoffa and manipulate the old labour leaders into worshipping him.

with that, they will help him utilise the industrial complex to build a “forced vertoconvector”, whatever that means.

“it will create millions of steaming, tiny guysers that will actually lift people several inches off the ground, immobilising them.”

“egad, brain! it’s like giant air hockey!”

unfortunately for brain, his coefficient values are wrong. “it’s suppose to be sin, not cosin. kind of flips the whole thing around. haha. won’t work.”

inside his head, brain screams, quietly.

but never mind! initially, he’s excited, because pinky has saved them a whole night’s work! tremendous!

and luckily, he has a backup plan, which is also totally going to work. “take a look at this one,”

“colleague.”

“oh, brain.”

this is how mice flirt, i guess.

ignoring that “colleague” is a slight downgrade from “lifelong friend,” brain explains that he intends to program a computer to generate a fantastically popular romance novel, that i actually don’t want to look at the cover of for too long.

ew.

let’s move away from that. the romance novel “will contain a hypnophonetic sentence so long and so confusing that the reader will be forced to reread it, endlessly, out loud, and the frequencies of those sounds will hypnotise all those around them, primed for my suggestion that,”

I RULE THE WORLD. it’s not quite a close up but it’s a funny face so i’m counting it.

pinky is not as hype.

“the frequency needs to be an exact integral multiple of the input, doesn’t it? or it’ll be all wobble wobble bluueeroooogh.”

that’s one way of putting it. “not hypnotic at all, nope. won’t work.”

“yes. you’re right.”

brain is not enjoying this any more, it seems.

“by converting our cage into a nuclear reactor, we can produce enough energy--”

“but your migration area is tiny, brain! the neutron will never be able to slow down from fission to thermal in here!”

“please, pinky. let me finish--”

“but it’s got to be at least one sixth of the square distance between--”

“pinky!”

lms if you are the square distance between pinky.

“it seems to be, brain, that it’s not my fault at all that these plans haven’t worked.”

man. we don’t get to see pinky mad at brain very often? i love it. please let him get this mad in the reboot. madder, even. let them argue, wb!!

i don’t think brain has much grounds to argue, considering that he is, of course, the inventor of Really Big Magnet That Sticks People To The Floor By Their Pocket Change. still, he gives it a go.

he drags pinky back over to his weird little graph machine, citing that he “calcuated it himself” and “the numbers don’t lie.”

<gay little hand flip>. that’s not entirely fair because this is a tween but. it’s funny.

“actually, there seems to be a little booboo right here.”

poke.

he sets about correcting it, of course!

brain may well be at his limit.

(they angle that through the bunsen burner as it boils over, which is a very nice touch. it’s a metaphor, kids! he’s having a Hard Time.)

“these-- this!--”

“it’s preposterous what you’re saying! it’s ridiculous! it’s absurd!”

“but brain--”

“just go!”

“naaaaaarf.” going mouse! leave. ):

but now that brain has vented his own raging insecurities, he has some calculating to do.

well! isn’t that a merry little plot twist.

brain’s response to this is to have a nervous breakdown, because of course it is.

“no!” he cries. “he’s even smarter than i! smarter!”

“but i have accepted my own errors. the team needs balance. balance! yes.”

this can’t be good.

conclusion:

meanwhile, pinky is mourning their friendship! and all of the bops on the head.

“being a smarty is no fun! brain doesn’t like me.”

awww. ):

hm.

meanwhile, brain is wittering on about how “sacrifices must be made,” as he plugs himself into the machine.

“fourty seven knots, six-- nineteen kelvin, fibbonaci, n plus one, coming.” despite that, he doesn’t seem very happy to be here.

bonk.

brain runs back to their cage excitedly, to show pinky what he’s done!

and immediately falls over in the process. aww.

“pinky! look! i’m a ninny! a wooden headed dumbdumb!”

“there’s not a smart thought in my whole empty head!”

this man is having a nervous breakdown.

“narf, i say! narf to the world!”

wait, what’s that noise?

ah.

“ah! it’s good to be back. brain? brain?”

bonk.

that doorway is evidently a real problem for them. someone should probably fix it before they break their little ankles. ):

“i fixed it! i’m a nitwit!” pinky cheers. “hurrah!”

“yes. i fixed it as well, pinky. i’m as dense as a tree stump.”

“you mean--”

“yes.”

“well, we’ll just have to make you smart again, don’t we?”

“we can’t. we’re both too stupid to operate the machine.”

so instead they just sort of sit down and give up, i guess.

“what do you wanna do tonight, brain?”

“the same thing we do every night, pinky.”

“what’s that?”

“i have no idea.” says brain, in a monotone, clearly upset deadpan. “narf.”

so that’s that, i guess.

originally, i was going to give this to brain - they were both as smart as each other, and if they had worked together they probably could have taken over the world. all he had to do was take the L and let pinky advise him.

on the other hand.... pinky is emotionally intelligent enough that i think he could have had a shot at reasoning with brain about it. and if he’d tried, then he would have figured out that brain had put himself in the machine, and if brain had tried to reason through his insecurities, he would have worked out that pinky had put himself in the machine, and--

basically they get half a point again.

brain: 6 pinky: 7 outside influence: 11

because i think that’s fair.

either way, they seem to have fixed it, somehow, by the next segment. so it’s all good.

BRAINSTEM BRAINSTEM.

#patb #pinky and the brain #i could have found some funny parts in this episode but #i wanted to remind everyone of brainstem #BRAINSTEM BRAINSTEM

[hazbincalifornia]

First Day Back

Chapter 5: Blitzo tries to get right back into the swing of things.

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Warnings: Mpreg, emetophobia (vomit) and written gore/death in relation to an IMP job.

Ao3 link

Blitzo was drawing a horse and chewing on a bagel when Millie knocked on the door to his office.

“Blitzo?”

He spat the bagel out on a napkin, scattering crumbs over his drawing paper until he brushed them off. “Yeah?”

She pushed the door open. “You doing okay?”

“Geez, I’m not gonna have dissolved into a pile of limp-dick spaghetti in the half-day since you last saw me.” He rolled his eyes. “Tell Moxxie to not worry either. I’ve got this under control. Stolas agreed to the stipend thing and it’ll be at least another couple months before I have to be off-duty.”

“That’s good. That’s real good, as long as you know your limits, you know?” She gave a sweet little half-smile, and Blitzo was again reminded of what Moxxie saw in her. “So, what’s the job today?”

Blitzo pulled out his schedule and flipped it over. The ink was slightly smeared from when he’d first written it, but it was still legible. His finger cast a shadow from the light of the lamp over the name. “A pretty typical one. Her ex-husband took off with a bunch of money like a week before she had a heart attack, so she never got it back and wants him to pay for it. Apparently, they were right in the middle of the divorce because he was slapping her around like a party clown at a picky kid’s party and she was fucking his best friend in revenge. She said they’ve got a kid, but he was on the verge of moving out so we probably don’t have to worry about him.”

Millie nodded. “Alright. Anything special we need to know?”

Blitzo shook his head, settling back on the chair, and it creaked as his tail idly flicked behind him. “I asked if he’s got any weapons, and she said not that she knew of. He’s some fatass loser, so it should be easy.” He cracked his neck. “We’ll probably be done within the hour, especially if we nab the guy at home. She didn’t give any special death circumstances, so it’s just a bullet to the head like usual. It didn’t sound like he had a lot of friends other than his dad, I bet it’ll take them a week to find the body.”

“What, are you gonna keep track?”

Blitzo gave her a fingergun and clicked his tongue, pretending to shoot her right in the heart.

“Eeeeeh, got me there Millz. Just grab Moxxie, maybe we can clock out early today.”

She pressed a hand over her chest, pretending to swoon. “Oh, right where it hurts!” Her grin widened and she straightened up, nodding at him. “You got it.” She clicked the door shut behind her after leaving, and Blitzo grabbed his half-bagel again, stuffing it in his mouth whole before swallowing hard. 

“This’ll be a breeze.”

____________________

It was easy enough to find the place- the portal popped out directly in the backyard. Blitzo’s finger twitched on the side of his rifle. He liked the longer-range weapons when there was any possibility of targets trying to run, but he doubted it was going to be much use today other than helping with aim. The weight was still nice in his arms, though. He really liked this gun.

“You two, fan out. Make sure there aren’t any extra witnesses. She mentioned that he’s close to his dad, so let’s hope he isn’t in a visiting mood. The geezer’d have a bad enough day cleaning his son’s brains up off the kitchen floor, let's hope he isn't here to see them get blasted out on top of that.” Blitzo paused. "Might be easier to just take care of both of them in that case, although him babbling about demons might just get him blamed for the job and put us in the clear." He shrugged. "Eh, not our problem either way."

Moxxie flinched but nodded, and Millie nodded along with him.

“Got it,” Moxxie said. “I brought the chloroform in case anyone else sees us.”

“Good call.” Bitzo nodded back. “We’ll take the ground floor first, then go upstairs if we have to.”

The other two nodded again, and Blitzo ignored an uncomfortable gurgling in his stomach, choosing instead to sling the rifle over his shoulder and start fiddling with the lock.

“I used to wonder how you even got into our apartment, but…” Moxxie trailed off.

“It’s a useful skill,” Blitzo replied, only half-listening until the lock clicked and he creaked the door open. He went in first, looking around. There was a single light on, somewhere around the corner, but the living room they entered was dark. He waved his hand forward, and Millie and Moxxie trod lightly on the carpeting behind him.

The light turned out to be a dead end- it was the kitchen, but no one was in it. “Dammit,” Blitzo muttered. “Fan out.”

Moxxie headed upstairs while Millie checked the next room over, and Blitzo doubled back to a side room off the living room, creaking the door open and wincing at the noise that it made. Dammit, didn't people keep that shit oiled? 

There he was- sleeping like a baby, even through the creaking door. He even had a nightlight on. That cheered Blitzo up- man, this was gonna be too easy. He lifted the gun- just as his stomach decided it was time for a rather violent rebellion and forced its contents back up through his throat with an acidic burn that was vaguely citrus-esque, splattering the cheekpiece and forcing him to drop it with a yelp as it began to bubble and smoke. The imp spat the puke out, taking an involuntary step back as his head dragged down like a lead weight to stare at it.

“What in the sweet pissing fuck- ”

“Gah!” The target sat straight up and started screaming, high and shrill and very, very irritating. Blitzo fumbled for the gun, but his fingers didn’t seem to be working right and his stomach was still doing flips and that screaming was pounding into his skull-

Three shots went off, and the screaming abruptly screeched to a stop, replaced by wet gurgling. It took a few seconds to process that the rifle was still shaking in his hands, and the soupy vomit was oozing over the half-melted back end and soaking into his gloves.

He blinked dumbly for a few seconds before it sunk in and he dropped the gun again. It hit the puddle of puke already on the carpet just as Millie and Moxxie ran into the room.

“Sir?” Moxxie asked at the same time as Millie called “Blitzo!” Blitzo, meanwhile, stared at the wall. One of the shots had hit the man’s neck, but the other two had gone wide, one shattering a picture and the other hitting the headboard. The target was currently choking on his own blood, grasping for his adam’s apple but just smearing blood all over his fingers in the process. Moxxie stepped around Blitzo, using his pistol to plug a bullet directly into the skull to stop the choking noises and blowing bits of brain into the headboard. Which was good. Blitzo kind of felt like puking again. 

It was just the wet gurgly noise, he was more than used to the gore. 

“What happened?” Millie asked. “He was still in bed- did he manage to-”

“This was exactly the kind of thing I was worried about.” Moxxie grimaced, swiping a shirt off the end of the bed and using it to wipe off Blitzo’s face. “Eep!” The shirt started dissolving in his hands and he dropped it like- well, like it was melting in his hands. “What’s going on?”

“It seems like my puke is melting things,” Blitzo said, swiping at it with his hand. “It doesn’t usually do that.”

“Yeah, I’ve cleaned your drunk ass-”

“Moxxie!” Millie protested.

“-Up off the floor a few times, and it’s never done that before. It has to be a pregnancy thing.” Moxxie sighed, sticking his hand in Blitzo’s jacket to rummage around before pulling out the phone. “Let’s just head back.”

“Putting the moves on me, Moxx? When I just upchucked on the target’s carpet? You’re shameless.”

“Let's not do this right now,” Moxxie mumbled with just a hint of annoyance, dialing the IMP number. “Just go sit down, I don’t want to have to carry you back to the office if you get sick again.”

Blitzo's head did still feel a little spinny, and he leaned against the wall as Moxxie set the phone against his head. “Just hurry it up, the lady said she wanted us to call her as soon as we got back.”

“Yes, we’re done. Open the portal. Yes, it’s Moxxie. No, I didn’t...”

Blitzo let the conversation fade a little, staring down at the floor. The vomit had started to eat away at the carpet underneath, as well as the flame paint job on the side of the rifle. He liked those flames, he’d have to repaint them. In fact, he was probably going to have to replace the whole back half now anyway. It wouldn’t that hard, gun stores were a dime a dozen in Hell, but still, the fact that his body was already doing such weird shit- acid vomit, of all things?- just made his guts bubble uncomfortably, even after the red glow on the other end of the room said that the portal had been opened.

“Maybe we can find a way to weaponize it,” Millie said, patting his arm. “I mean, acid bombs sound pretty cool.”

Blitzo scooped the gun up, relieved that it at least didn’t burn his fingers, and lightly bounced it in his hands. The weight was all off now. “You may be on to something there.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Moxxie grumbled, but he brushed a bit of goop off of Blitzo’s arm before stepping through the portal.

Blitzo’s fingers curled tightly around the remains of the rifle as he followed.

#one time #shadow writes stuff #helluva mpreg #daddy blitzo #gore #emetophobia #helluva boss

[dramaplustautology]

Samesies

I love Aco and Solan!! I’m like the old person asking them “Hey, dude. What’s going on?” “Teenage Rebellion.” “Hell yeah, stick it to the old people.”

And I’m at a block for writing other things so I did another scenario to freshen up and also have my OC interact with Ryunn’s in a sort of non-canon/AU way? Anyways, Tariche is a doctor that works for the Thorn and the twins visit him.

I’ll have a bio later, probably. (note that ryunn doesn’t have a bio up so this is just my....omg my fanon of them? nice).

3K Words. Book 3

Examining the newly fastened cast on her broken arm, Aco took her attention back to the doctor and his trailing coat.

“What’s that?” She asked him.

“This?” He finished the scribble on the cast. “So many of you come in here broken and squished, I can’t keep track of who has to keep their casts on for how long. And I hate paper work,” The doctor wiggled in his chair, excited over his drawing. “Instead, you all get pictures that I can remember you by. Look, this is you, me, and Solan. All the little hearts around us mean that we’re in love.”

Aco grabbed the doctor’s marker and drew Xs over his doodle version’s eyes.

He gasped, pushing his rolling chair away from Aco with his hands covering his heart.

“Now it’s a doodle of you both thinking how dead cute my corpse looks!” The doctor tsked, wiggling his finger at her. “Naughty children!”

Grabbing his hand, Aco twisted it and pointed at the lapel of his oversized white coat.

“Tariche, I was asking about what this was.”

The Doctor looked down at the crooked name tag Aco was jangling with his own finger.

“Didn’t you know? Tariche is short for Gregor McScully,” Tariche ballooned a cheek and shrugged. “The trendy way of shortening it at least.”

“Is it still cool when all of your fingers are broken?” Aco’s lips twisted into a wicked smile, about to flatten Tariche’s fingers against the back of his hand.

The Doctor leaned forward, placing his chin on his trapped palm, neither pained nor annoyed.

“You tell me, bloodbag. You and your brother still want my poison?” Tariche mirrored Aco’s expression to an impossibly sharp degree. The only difference between them was black to blond and midnight purple to starry golden vista.

That was suspicious.

“Pfft,” Aco made a satisfied noise. She hated having to ask for things, even after all these years of only demands. "This why you always stand to Solan’s right?”

“Nah, he got wise a long time ago. I just do it to keep him on edge.” Tariche slid his chair away and yelped when Solan caught him from behind.

“Your roots are showing,” Solan smirked, spinning the Doctor’s chair and kicking it towards his twin as the ‘blond’ tousled his course hair. “That trendy too?”

If for only a moment, Solan took some gratification from catching their Doctor off guard. The shorty was a lot like his office; filled to the brim with tools and texts too complicated for plebs to understand, stinking with flowery perfume to mask the sterile bitter smell of disinfectant.

Good thing there were two of them, one to distract and the other to take a stab.

“Did you know Gregor?” Tariche asked, having already collected himself by the time his chair reached Aco. He pressed a small case, not unlike a container for spectacles, to Aco’s lap.

“We picked him up from the weenie factory,” Code for blackmailing him into leaving the Rose’s main base of operations to work for the Thorn. Solan went to his sister’s side and the two shared a high five over Tariche’s head. “He used to squeal when I flapped my eyepatch at him.”

Trying to do the same at Tariche got the Doctor to leap up and attempt to stick his finger into the slit. Slapping his eyepatch back on, Solan just about chomped Tariche’s finger off.

“You must be happy then, no more Gregor to bore you and all of Tariche to—“He took a small vial out of his coat, shaking the clear pills inside. “—Help you leave an impression,” The vial disappeared into his sleeve and he stretched out his arm. “For a fair exchange.”

The twins didn’t need to share a glance to sync up.

“How about you trade those for our threats?” Aco leaned her chair on the door leading outside, about to cross her arms behind her head. The cast cracked and she pretended not to notice, letting it rest and using her good arm as a pillow.

“Hey, Theano? Did you know your kids can’t flex on those poor innocent spindly elves without speed and strength boosters?” He pulled his gloves off with his teeth, spitting them into the trash can by Solan’s boots. “Magic boosters?”  

That trash can was sent flying over Tariche’s head, courtesy of Solan stopping himself short of tackling him to the floor.

“You told us they were regular pills.” Aco stood, getting up to circle Tariche’s chair like a lion closing in on a light meal. The Doctor could hear the leather of her gloves stretching from the strain of keeping her hands to herself.

And the Doctor knew why. Aco knew herself, of course. And Tariche always knew the hard facts others grappled with.

“Regular for Lore,” Tariche clarified, tilting his head to the side. “Magic isn’t dead yet. Not that you need magic to dunk my head into an incinerator.”

Suddenly, Solan was right up against Tariche, hauling him out of his spinny chair and smashing him into the wall.

“I could do that without arms.” Solan growled and it sounded like a promise.

“How long would that take? A few hours?” Tariche’s eyes sparkled with literal stars, about to make his pitch. “With a little boost, you could do that in a minute with five inches of dental floss. Wouldn’t that make your murder pageant dad proud?”

Solan thrust the Doctor at the wall, smacking his head for insulting their Commander. All it did was make the stars flash wild.

“You’re not human,” Aco leaned into the exchange, grasping Solan’s shoulder, advising caution with a mere touch. “Typical magic types. You can’t hide your flashy bits even under pain of death.”

“Me? Afraid of my partners in crime? But I trust you so much!”

Trusted them to want his handiwork; that much and more Tariche knew.

The twins glowered, stepping away to let Tariche slide down the wall and back on his feet.

“What’s this then?” Aco asked, raising the rectangular box Tariche had given her.

“How you’re going to pay me this time.” Tariche dusted himself off and made sure to squish between the twins to get by them. He appreciated how hard they made it for him, refusing to budge.

He made it to his desk and pulled open a drawer filled to the brim with glass flasks. The multicolored potions sloshed and he roughly fished through the fragile ware for a particularly bubbly blue one. Swishing the contents around once to get the concoction mostly homogenous, Tariche popped the cork and drowned the drink.

“There’s a syringe inside the box,” Tariche gestured at the container. “That’s the antidote.”

Blinking at him, the twins struggled to understand what the Doctor had done.

“Did you poison yourself?” Solan gaped at the emptied flask.

“This is a new invention of mine. I came up with it all by myself!” Tariche explained, starry eyed again. His audience was captive after all. “It’s strawberry flavored this time but you can slip it into enemy supplies without notice. That’s whole communities if you hit an important well,” He winked and the twins could hear the literal twinkling sound his eyelid made. “There’s some time between ingestion and visible effects that I haven’t figured out yet but it should keep the fair and magic folk alive long enough to find out we have the antidote.”

And that they had to turn themselves into the Rose if they wanted to stay alive.

“Not sure why you want me to give you the antidote but I’d be happy to stab you.” Aco tossed the box and fiddled with the cathartically long needle. Tapping the bubbles out of the barrel on the corner of the cabinet, she playfully aimed it at the most tender part of the good Doctor. It was a hard decision considering how the Doctor was tender everywhere but his heart.

“How nasty are the symptoms?” Solan asked, scratching his chin as he looked Tariche up and down uncomfortably close. He could see the Doctor’s black roots. It seemed that the twins and Tariche shared the same shade of hair. Gross.

“My orifices are going to burn and squirt blood. All that horror stuff to really scare us clean and pretty magic folks, as far as I know,” Tariche tugged on the corner of his eyes to check if it was leaking. His heart was racing from the rush of not knowing for sure. “Luckily, I’m a masochist. You have to be if you want to enjoy getting into medicine.”

Past that, Tariche had nothing to say.

He usually did whenever he had one or both of the twins strapped to a cot, at the mercy of his unending stream of difficult nonsense.

Oddly, neither of the twins were comfortable with the utter quiet. Maybe it was how the Doctor just stared straight ahead, staring at nothing like it was everything on the page of a novel. They could see his pupils vibrate under those weird fairy sparkles.

“And you’re fine with siding against your own people?” Solan asked, orbiting around him with curiosity. Was one of the symptoms making his teeth heavy?

Rolling his head back on the chair’s backrest, Tariche considered the question.

“I don’t know them. Who cares?” He sighed, lingering on the words left hanging in the air. “If you’re wondering if I’m angry at ‘magic’ in general. No, I’m like you.”

“No.” Aco said.

“Please, no.” Solan shook his head at the same time.

“I don’t need to know everything to see that I see the same face in the mirror that you see on each other,” Tariche steepled his fingers on his belly, tapping them as he began to become impatient for the physical pains. “I love not knowing. It makes new books amazing even when they turn out to be puerile garbage. The only thing I don’t know for sure is my mom and dad issues.”

“How did you—“

“Dang, was it the mom or the dad?”

Instantly, the twins clammed up, wondering if Tariche had spoken up to save them from giving up too much.

“Anyways, my mom was the magic one, which is the simplest way of putting it,” He chewed on his cheek, wondering if it was a nervous tick or a reaction. “I didn’t find out about it until we met for the first time after I hit my teens.”

He looked like he was still in his teens, if not younger than Aco and Solan. Then again, both knew what it was like to grow old in the middle of childhood.

“She asked me if I had a lot of people, and I could have if I tried. Didn’t tell her that though,” He kept chewing on his cheek, close to drawing blood. “Mom said that it was good. If she stayed with me, I wouldn’t have anyone and my life would be lonely. Worse, she told me her life would have been better. Full.” Red began leaking from his mouth. “We didn’t know that for sure.”

Stock still, Solan glanced at Aco and watched her slowly stand with the syringe at ready.

Then, Tariche got up too. He had gone from waaaaaay out there to squared shoulders, standing at attention.

“Commander Theano, what brings you here?” Tariche asked.

The twins span around, finding the door still closed.

“I hate needles!” Tariche cried, taking advantage of their confusion to sprint past them and out of the quarantine office.

The Thorn were going to go from having one bad medic to having no medic.

“Crap!” Aco and Solan jumped into action, tearing through the door and past the rows of occupied beds. A gnome strapped to one of the cots struggled in their restrains and Solan pulled the blanket over the head to shut them up.

There were at least four rows of beds for Tariche to hide under until he croaked. He wasn’t going to crawl out easy if he was more afraid of needles than he was death.

Oh but the Doctor loved to blab.

“You weren’t finished,” Aco kept her voice steady, at conversation volume as she padded past the beds. There was enough light to see the Doctor’s prone silhouette. “What does joining us have anything to do with fixing your mommy issues?”

“I’ve read the history books. I know what kind of trouble she got up to. It took long for her to get it together but the effort was admirable. Her taste in lovers? Disagreeable.”

Aco heard his nonsense and pinpointed the cot he was hiding under, tugging off the blankets to find no one but a very upset elf.

“Quit crying!” Aco shushed the prisoner, catching sight of a few drops of blood across her way. She locked stares with Solan in the other aisle, nodding in the direction of the gory trail.

“Trust me,” Tariche couldn’t stop himself from speaking up. “I know what I’m doing. There’s nothing to be afraid of when it comes to your precious Commander either.”

“If he catches you, I’ll be happy to skin you myself,” Solan goaded him, closing in on the Doctor. “Blackmail or not, he knows who’s in his corner.”

“Theano doesn’t care about loyalty. In fact, the scariest part of this entire situation is how he wants—“Tariche was wracked by a violent cough. The twins weren’t sure if it was because of the poison or if the Doctor was faking because he had no idea. “Doesn’t matter. It wasn’t me but I was caught before and now, I live again.”

‘The poison’s going to his brain,’ Solan mouthed to Aco. ‘Can’t we let him stay like this for a bit longer?’

The curtain hiding the bed directly beside Solan swung open.

“But this time, I know how to throat punch you.” Tariche got the jump on Solan but the boy’s gut instinct lead his eyes to the angle of the Doctor’s arm.

Seeing it coming from miles away, Solan raised his hands to shield his neck and allowed Tariche to imbed his fist on his rock hard stomach.

“Need a medic?” Solan grinned as Tariche cringed from the blunt force trauma he afflicted on himself.

“Right here!” Aco jumped behind the Doctor and stabbed the needle into his neck.

Wailing like a murdered ghost, Tariche was too shocked to move before Aco pushed the plunger down, injecting the antidote into, miraculously, the right spot for it to act quick.

If it weren’t for the twins catching his arms, Tariche would have broken his nose to top this entire humiliating spree off.

“Look!” The doctor flailed, still disoriented from the effects of that messily cooked poison. “I can fight now! I used to only know how but I can actually do it with my own hands!”

By all means, Aco and Solan were allowed to sneer at the disgusting display. But, if only for a moment, some form of impossible fondness.

“Same.” They whispered together.

All of a sudden, Tariche lifted his head.

“Your friendship means a lot to me.” He said before his head lolled to the side.

And the twins were about to drop the Doctor on his face when they heard the footfalls of boots they had come to memorize. The Commander wasn’t going to happy with the only Doctor on site, who was definitely not Gregor, going out of his mind on bad blue soda.

“I know who that is!” Tariche turned his chin up, almost as furious as the Commander was going to be. “I read the obituaries!”

Each of them slapping a hand over Tariche’s mouth, they thought fast and not hard.

Having heard the Doctor’s shriek, Theano entered his wing to see if a prisoner had escaped. Smartly, he left the trailing Thorn members outside the room to find Solan in the nearest bed with an extremely bloated stomach under his blanket.

“Aw man, I ate so much,” Solan complained, rubbing his writhing belly. “Why, good morning, Commander Theano. The eggs were bad today.”

His belly tried to yell, barely held back by Aco restraining him under the sheets.

“Remove that blanket,” Theano ordered, patience thinner than the starving mage strapped to the other bed. “Now.”

“It smells pretty bad, just saying.” Solan lied, sweating bullets as his Commander’s frown deepened.

“Remove. The Blanket.” Theano wouldn’t repeat himself.

“You know what’s also bad?” Tariche managed to yank Aco’s hand off of his mouth a little late to the right cue. “You at oral exams!”

In the space of a fraction of a second, Theano’s face when through all hues of shock, realization, rage, and steeled stoicism.

“I don’t understand what that means.” Solan admitted, more interested in his Commander’s actions than at Aco’s one armed wrestling match with Tariche happening right next to him.

Theano breathed in, then out.

“You have ten seconds to come back to reality.”

Solan stole a peek under the blanket, betting a face full of blood vomit.

“We need ten hours.”

The Commander had already slammed the door shut.          

#Tariche (S) #Solan (S) #Aco (S)