#at the same time + my own dumbassery so is now only 30 a day

[alebrijediscordico]

my main queue is full again ._. aaaa

[vendettaparker]

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter 

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again. 

     This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop. 

     Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through. 

     At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him. 

     “Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch. 

     “He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

     “Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth. 

     “How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz. 

     “Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?” 

     “She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.” 

     “I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes. 

     “Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake. 

     “Make it a month, I know my worth.” 

     Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.” 

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter. 

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5 

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls 

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot. 

     Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room. 

     “(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room. 

     “Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

     “Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you. 

     “And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor. 

     Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?” 

     “Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.” 

     ‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers. 

     “Bring a mop too.” 

     Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh. 

     “What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.” 

     “Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed. 

     “Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste. 

     “I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

     “Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?” 

     “Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further. 

     “I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound. 

     “Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other. 

     “You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!” 

     “Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets. 

     “You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

     “What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously. 

     “I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

     “This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—” 

     “Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement. 

     “Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach. 

     “What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle. 

     “You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch. 

     “I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch. 

     You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss. 

     “You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.” 

     You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement. 

     “Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

     “It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair. 

     “Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh. 

     “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.” 

     You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

     “No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

     “Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.” 

     Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.” 

     “Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

     “But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

     You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection. 

     Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features. 

     “Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

     “Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss. 

     You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

     “The feeling is mutual.” 

     “Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense. 

     “You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned 

     “You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

     “(Y/N)!”

[candyopala]

Stuck in his ways, Chapter 5

Chapter Summary:  Y/N’s training begins, but not before she discovers one of Obito’s secrets.

Words: 1.7k

AO3

Please reblog or like if you enjoy, comments are always welcome <3

5:30 in the morning. It is the sixth time Y/N has woken up. This whole concussion thing has messed up her whole sleeping schedule, she tried her best to get some rest, but to no avail. She ended up sleeping for about fourteen or fifteen hours between small intervals, but she feels worse than before. 

Y/N drags herself out of bed, makes some coffee, and brushes her teeth, the whole deal. Having a constant roof above her head is nice, she has to admit that. Not having to worry about wild animals and the climate is cool, but the warmth of a bed is the best part of it. Tying her brand new bandana on her forehead, she leaves the small apartment and heads to the training grounds on the outskirts of the village.  

She makes her way through the village’s main market, trying to avoid stumbling onto the hundreds of busy people bustling around her. Watching people attend to their duties and following their routines has always been a hobby of hers, she always found interest in seeing people who can afford to do the same thing every day, have some sort of routine. Can she consider herself one of them now? No, maybe not. Ninjas are always doing different missions and whatnot; their routines are as fucked up as a merc’s. Maybe she can become a baker in another life, who knows? 

Around the corner, a hand blocking her way surprises her. At the end of it is a medium height man with his hair tucked into some sort of fabric, with bits of brown hair coming out of the sides. The man holds a toothpick between his lips, accompanied by a smug smile and an attitude that instantly annoys Y/N. 

“’Sup babygirl, how come I’ve never seen you around?”

“I’ve been busy for the last 26 years”

“Busy living in my dreams, I bet”

“Busy fucking you mom, actually”

The sleazy type is the worst in Y/N’s opinion. Nothing disgusts her more than someone who thinks they’re hot shit just because they’re attractive. She pushes him away and keeps on walking.  

“Ouch! Feisty, I like that. I’ll remember ya!” he states as he leaves the scene with a wink and a flick of his toothpick. 

This has to be a joke, what a douchebag.

Going back on her way and observing the people, she closes into a mass of messy short black hair. The man has his back turned to her, but by the jonin vest and height, she assumes it could be… no, wait… it could not be! This man is helping an old lady carry a shitload of groceries, he would never be nice enough to do that. 

Could it be him!?

From afar, she changes angle to try and catch a glimpse of his face. After much difficulty dodging busy locals, she is able to see clearly and… it’s Obito! Obito Uchiha helping a poor old lady carry her stuff, I wish I had a camera on me. She thinks of approaching him, but she decides against it in favor of watching from a distance to see where this goes. 

Turns out the frail woman lives on the other side of town. Obito sure enough has carried all that stuff through the worst climbs Y/N has ever seen on a city. But that was not all: he was being extra nice. He laughed at all her jokes and even smiled back at her. This is grade A entertainment. 

When they finally reach her destination, the old lady pulls out a lollypop and gives it to him. Y/N immediately loses her shit, almost falling from the ceiling she is in because of her fit of laughter. Before she can compose herself, she notices a presence behind her. She was discovered, but who cares? She has seen enough. Obito towers above her, trying to look intimidating, but failing to do so since he has a lollipop on his mouth. 

“First you invade my house, now you’re following me. Are you sure I’m the one who should be called a creep?”

“Well, you’re right. Maybe I’ll start calling you… Granny Simp Uchiha©, how about that?”  

“I hate you”

“Ow, I’m so hurt, oh my god, how could you? But seriously, I didn’t mean to intrude, but when I saw that… I needed to see more to believe it” She states as she breaks into another fit of laughter

“Let’s go, we’re late for training”

“Have you ever been on time a day of your life, though?”

“Never, I’ll probably be late for my own funeral”

“Fair enough. Wait, did you just make a joke that’s not on my expense?”

“Oh no, your dumbassery is influencing me!” He raises his gloved hands ironically

“Shut up”

 ~”~

 They both reach the training grounds at around 7:30, late but not a whole lot, thanks to Obito’s kamui. Obito will have to make some slight modifications on the mission report to avoid Minato’s wrath. After a quick warmup, Obito goes straight to the point: 

“How much do you even know about jutsu?”

“Well… I can do that chakra punch, maybe walk on water and trees or release genjutsu, but that’s all.”

“Not even a clone or some substitution jutsu?”

“Nope”

“So you’re basically an academy student with enough brute force to take down S rank criminals… That’s… odd”

Y/N scratches the back of her head, clearly embarrassed by her lack of training. Obito did not expect to have to teach such basic things. I mean, if he wanted to teach people stuff he would have signed up for a job at the academy. He still cannot believe Minato sensei is putting him up to this babysitting job. 

He needs to do well on this mission if he wants to get back onto the Hokage’s good side and guarantee his position as the next one. This is his second day with Y/N and things have been insane and… fun? No, he should not be thinking like that. Perhaps he should also go talk with Kushina and ask her to convince sensei to let him go from this one; he was always her favorite after all.

“Granny simp? You ok? Did I disappoint you that much?”

Obito fixes his bandana’s position over his left eye, trying to get himself out of his head. He is here now, so he had better get to work. If he can control himself enough not to put her under a nasty genjutsu for calling him that again, that is. 

“Call me that again and I’ll tell everyone that you saw me naked”

“You were not naked, dickhead. And what’s wrong with that?”

“Uhm…?”

“…?”

“Anyway… we’ll start with some cloning jutsu. Have you ever done any seals?”

“Only one or two”

“Try to copy what I’m doing”

“Hey! Stop doing it so fast!”

She honestly seems to be giving her best, but her hand signs are not quite right and the chakra distribution on her network must be all wrong, judging by her failure in producing something that seems to be remotely human. This takes Obito’s memory back to his old academy days, back when he could not do a single clone properly. He would spend whole nights awake training to achieve something passable. Rin helped him a lot back then. The only thing he has ever taught someone was that sexy jutsu to Naruto. To say Kushina was mad was an understatement. 

“Concentrate your chakra all along your body, not only on your hands”

“Hum… right, can I get a lollipop after this?”

Four hours later and Y/N has finally mastered two basic jutsu: substitution and cloning. She almost passed out several times due to exhaustion, but thanks to some food pills, she is enduring todays training much better. 

Obito has been analyzing her every movement with his sharingan. Looking closely her techniques lack grace, truly a sign of someone who learned everything they know by experience. He needs to fix that too. 

Her endurance is also remarkably low. If she were to fight right now, she could do maybe two or three jutsu before passing out, making her rely solely onto her speed and blade habilities. The girl is more of a samurai than a ninja at this point. Examining her file earlier, he noticed that her chakra reserves are not that low as she has stated before, according to the medical department she has an average quantity of it. She just lacks the ability to use it properly.  

Some very hard work is in order; it could take some months to get her into decent shape. That would be too much time and effort for Obito, there has to be another way of dealing with this mission quicker. 

He did not want to do this, but he will have to talk to Kakashi for some teaching tips. Hell, if he was able to teach anything useful to Naruto he will be able to come up with a routine to help Y/N’s training. 

I just hope he doesn’t decide to bother me about this situation…

After dropping Y/N on her house, with much protest from her part, Obito heads to the village’s café to meet with Kakashi Hatake. He knows that the ninja likes to spend his late afternoons reading his porn books accompanied by some coffee, disgusting stuff if you ask Obito. The coffee, that is. He has no formed opinion on porn books.

Approaching the store, he spots his friend’s mass of upward pointing grey hair. Something is different about him, though. Kakashi is usually… a very apathetic person. The look he gave Obito had chills running the Uchiha’s spine, he looked, well, excited. 

“Obito! I finally found you! Sit down”

Aliens killed him and this is a body double. Or this is one of Gai’s practical jokes. Obito is honestly stumped.

“Are you ok bakashi?”

“Great! So… who’s the girl?”

Great, just awesome.      

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Of course you know, everyone is talking about how you were seen walking up and down with some mysterious gal. I’m so happy for you! Finally you’re going to stop being a sad grumpy bachelor! I’ll call dibs on the position of best-man” and suddenly Kakashi jumps up from his seat, coming closer to Obito’s face “Have you guys done it yet? Did she run away from you and now you need my advice? You could use some techniques from Icha I-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Those books are rotting your brain, seriously what the hell?”

“So is it true?”

[littlemonstersau-blog]

The Feels Awaken, Interlude: Attack of the Clonesuit

Written by @jkl-fff, illustrated by me

PART I  - PART II [Interlude] (you are here) - PART III

————————————————————————————–

Ford, leafing listlessly through notes: … Suppose I could go out and look more into this anomaly … or that one, any of them, really —anything’d be better than just sitting here … moping. Yes, moping, that’s really what I’m doing right now. All that I’m doing right now. Moping … [sighs heavily, stands up and paces around room aimlessly; roving eyes land on a shelf of scientific glassware with several empty decanters among them; swallows drily] Damn, a drink would really hit the spot right about now … Gah, no! How pathetic can I be, wanting a drink now, after decades of sobriety! Still wanting a drink at all, just because … just because I’m missing the kids … Damn it, man, pull yourself together! [takes off glasses with one hand, slaps self with other] Are you a scientist or a sentimentalist?! [slaps self again] Focus on your intellect! [slaps self a third time] They’ll be back here soon enough to visit for Fall Break, you can look forward to that, so stop all this … this sniveling! [resumes pacing] … Gah, that Demon’ll probably sour their visit for me, too. Just like he’s soured everything else in my life of late … Besides, he’s already had too much influence over them as is, and them coming back risks him gaining even more of one; would be far, far better if they never came within 100 miles of him ever again … I can … I can go to them, anyway. Stan and I. We can go down to Piedmont and see them safely that way, or … or I can call or use that skyelp program just about any evening … Yes … Yes … So no more of this sniveling and moping and such …

Bill, through the elevator intercom: Hey, Stanford?! I’m coming down now, so … uh, put away the crossbow and the dirty magazines! Haha … ha … um, yeah …Th-that was just a joke, by the way! Except for the part about the crossbow, obviously, ‘cause I would appreciate it if you put that away instead of putting a bolt in this vessel! So, um … yeah, here I come! (79 Hells, that was awkward …)

Ford, muttering and jumping back to desk: Grrr! Now?! Pigcrap fucksnorkel, this is the last thing I need right now! [sits in an exaggeratedly nonchalant pose; turns and glares as Bill steps out of the elevator] What is it, Cipher, can’t you see I’m very busy?

Bill, holding up two cans of Pitt: Thought you might, I dunno, like something cold to drink? [sets one can down on the desk]

Ford: … Why are you wearing a sock puppet?

Bill, shrugging: I could ask you the same thing.

Ford: No, you couldn’t.

Bill: Sure, I could. It wouldn’t make sense, but I could. [cracks open own drink, takes a sip] So, um, how you doin’?

Ford: You still haven’t answered my question.

Bill, shielding his mouth with non-puppet hand, whispering: He just showed up on his own, and I can’t get him to leave no matter how many hints I drop.

Ford, turning away: A feeling I relate to on a deep, spiritual level. [pretends to resume reviewing notes]

Bill: Now you still haven’t answered my question. How you doin’?

Ford: … Tired. And getting more and more tired with every second I spend in your company. So I repeat, what is it? What do you want?

Bill, sighing, leaning against the desk: I just … wanna talk is all, I guess? It gets kinda lonely, y’know, without the Twins here. And I do know y’know about that.

Ford, hiding embarrassment: What are you implying?

Bill: C’mon, Ford. We all miss them. And, I dunno, that’s got me all sentimental about … [takes a deep breath, looks at Ford, lets himself be vulnerable] about other people I miss spending time with, too.

Ford, looking away: Yes, well, if you burn a bridge, you can’t really complain about not being able to cross back over again, can you?

Bill, through sock puppet: Bridges can be rebuilt, can’t they?

Ford: …

Bill, through sock puppet: Can’t they?

Ford: … Not some bridges. Now leave me alone, please, because I have a lot of work to do.

Bill, stiffening up: Fine, if that’s what you want. Sit down here and brood in the dark, ignoring all the people who’re concerned about your health and happiness.

Ford: Pff, right! Sure, you are.

Bill: I am, though! I’m concerned about your health! So are Stan, Soos and Melody, and the Twins would be, too, if they could see you like this—Mabel and Dipper!

Ford: I’m fine, Cipher. You don’t know what you’re talking about.

Bill: Me and Stan’re especially concerned about you, I think. Prob’ly ‘cause we know you the best.

Ford, reddening: I asked you nicely to leave me alone once already. I won’t ask nicely again.

Bill, through sock puppet while stomping towards exit: I guess you would know about burning bridges, right? I mean, you’ve been slowburning a bunch of ‘em lately, haven’t you?

Ford, raising his voice: What’s that supposed to mean?

Bill, through sock puppet: How many years d’you spend missing your brother so much it ached, huh? I mean, you had me play him in your fantasies hundreds of times—literally. 872 times with him as a major character by my count over the years we spent together! [whirls around at the elevator door and points, which looks especially accusing and grotesque coming through a hand puppet] Yet, even though he’s back, you won’t even enjoy your time with him just ‘cause I’m around!? Just ‘cause he doesn’t spit and hiss at the sight of me like a Vampire at sunlight?! You murmur and grumble and carry on and act … act mean and bitter at him for that?! Well, Fordsy, if that ain’t slowburning a bridge, I don’t know what is!

Ford, stung: Y-you … Shut up, Cipher.

Bill, pointing petulantly at the sock: It’s not me. It’s him. [speaking through the sock again] And you’re doing it to everyone else! Including the Twins!

Ford, on his feet: Get. Out. Now.

Bill, whirling on his heel: We’re already gone! [storms back into the elevator and upstairs with it]

Ford, covering face to contain fury: That little, monocular— No, Stanford. D-don’t let him get to you … fffff … Don’t let … that smart-talking shitass—No, d-don’t … fffff … don’t … [eyes land on decanters again; desire for a drink spikes, which makes fury explode inside of him] Graaaaargh! [stomps over, seizes first decanter, hurls it at wall; it shatters] That greasepainted, crap-piling, illuminati fuck hat and [hurls second decanter at wall; it shatters] cyclopes poseur in a mustache-twirled, pan-licking ass wad [hurls third decanter at wall; it shatters] of a grephew’s face-stealing TURD BREATH! [stands huffing and puffing for a moment; leans against wall, slides down until sitting on floor, buries face in hands]

Ford, eventually beginning to calm down: Says he’s “concerned about my health and happiness”—pah!—right … Heard that one before, haven’t I?

[remembers from more than 30 years ago …

Bill, inside Ford’s mind: Uh, you sure this is a good idea?

Ford, scaling an improvised novi-wave receiver: Sure! *cough* Why do you ask?

Bill: Let’s just say I’m concerned for your health and wellbeing.

Ford, shifting a bag of materials, climbing higher: Huh. What for? I’m not *cough cough* sick at all.

Bill: Only ‘cause of the major storm—strong winds, pounding rain, and constant lightning—raging around you while you climb up a structure made of conductive metals that doesn’t have a lot of really solid hand and footholds for your gravity-bound meatbag.

Ford, laughing: Oh, that! Don’t worry, this’ll only take another *cough cough* minute or two.

[lightning cracks nearby]

Ford, still laughing: Whoa! Haha! That one was close! [foot slips on wet metal; catches self] Whoops! Heh, clumsy me … Better hurry up! *cough*

Bill, obviously worried: Y’know what? I think you should just leave it for now. Wait until the storm clears, do something about that wet cough like … like have some ginger tea!

Ford: The forecast said it’s *cough* to continue all week. If I *cough* don’t fix this now, we’ll lose all that work time.

Bill: Yeah, but if you fall and break one of your fleshsticks, we’ll lose even more time. Assuming a fall doesn’t, y’know, do worse. Like kill you. Also, you getting pneumonia is a thing that could cause us to lose even more time.

Ford, dismissively: It’s fine. I’ll be fine. *cough*

Bill, almost desperately: Hey, know what? Not being able to work the rest of this week might be an okay thing! Like, you could take a break. Relax a little, get several full nights’ sleep. Eat a few square meals at regular times with all that nutrient stuff you meatbags need, stave off scurvy and other illnesses you could catch as a result of skipping meals and sleep. Doesn’t that sound like fun? We could even have extra play sessions in your mindscape! Eh? Eh?!

Ford, tempted: You’re a *cough cough* good friend, Bill, but I need to concentrate on this right now.

comes out of his memory …]

Ford, sitting in the lab: Heh … I did fall in the end. Didn’t break anything, just got the wind knocked out of me and was bruised for a bit, but still … Was that when Cipher first recommended I get an assistant? Someone who’d help me build his infernal portal? [sighs, admits] No, I thought an assistant could help me build the portal. Cipher said I needed one to stop me “dying like an idiot during monster hunts” and make me “perform basic self-care for meatbags” from day to day. I was the one who thought it could be someone to help with the portal. [face turning red with shame] I … It was me who made the Electron Carpet to try to switch him— Fiddleford, someone I dared call a f-friend—with Cipher … That was entirely me … When I suggested we use it for that, he actually told me it was a terrible idea—told me Fiddleford was there to help keep my “moments of near suicidal dumbassery in check” and ease my workload, not increase both of them … [chuckles incredulously] That was the first time Cipher and I ever had an argument … He said he was worried about me, and the thing I invented the most was new ways to make him worry …

[remembers the argument, which ended with both of them screaming “FUCK YOU!” at each other in different voices until it stopped being angry and started being hilarious …

remembers flashes from times he and Bill worked together, succeeded together, advanced SCIENCE! together …

remembers flashes from times he and Bill laughed together, played together, bonded together, had so much fun together …

remembers flashes from times he and Bill spent inside Ford’s mindscape, and how good it felt to relive his memories of better times, to play out all his wild fantasies …]

Ford, resting head against wall, gazing at dark ceiling: Cipher’s not … not the only one who misses spending time with … other people … who misses the old days … And—Moses!— I’m so, so tired from always being on guard … from always reminding myself what he really is … what he’s done, what he could do if he got the chance … So tired from always keeping myself angry and bitter … from always stoking this animosity … So tired from always pitting myself against him … Well, against everyone else, too … [heaves self upright and dusts off coat; rubs temples; sighs heavily] Could I be entirely wrong about Bill? Is it really possible he has changed, and I’m just being a stubborn, old fool? Am I making everyone else … Am I making myself unhappy for no real reason? [sighs heavily again] Not the first time I’ve asked that question, and the answer’s the same as always. I can’t afford to take that chance—this whole dimension can’t afford for me to take that chance. And it’s selfish of me to even consider it, given the stakes … What’re my desires and my health and my personal happiness against the safety of this whole dimension for the rest of eternity? And … what’s the happiness of my family, even? [shakes head woefully] I want to believe Bill, but he has conned me before … Besides, he’s immortal; he can afford to play a long game, just wait until I die or waver … That’s why I can’t give in. I just can’t … ever …

[sound from overhead like heavy objects being rearranged]

Ford, flopping into chair at desk: Fffffuck, I wish … I wish there was a solution to this dilemma … a way to untie this Gordian Knot … More than anything in the world … [picks up Pitt, cracks it open, takes a swig; eventually looks at pile of shattered decanters] That’s going to be a bitch to clean up …

Stan, through the basement intercom: Poindexter, you down here? I’m comin’ down, so get out the crossbow and the dirty magazines! [takes elevator down to the lab, notices pile of broken glass and Ford’s drained expression] Yeesh, what happened here? You try playin’ jenga with champagne flutes, or something?

Ford, sighing: … Had a … a temper tantrum, guess you’d say. Threw all the old decanters against the wall because they reminded me how badly I want a drink sometimes.

Stan: Well, darn. We could’ve sold those; some of ‘em were really nice crystal … But, more importantly, you feelin’ better?

Ford, taking a reflective sip of Pitt: … Not really, no. I loathe how much, even now, even still, sometimes I want a drink more than anything in the world … Makes me feel like … like …

Stan, walking up to rub his shoulders: Yeah?

Ford: Like nothing’s changed—maybe more like I haven’t changed— not really, even after everything … Mmm, that feels good, Stanly …

Stan: I can understand the feelin’, Sixer … Some days … Well, some days are just bad days. Some days, all the crap from the past tumbles outta the closet in your head, and there’s nothin’ much you can do about it. [leans down, lightly kisses top of his brother’s head] But there’s also nothin’ wrong with takin’ some time off from all the crap, either, on those days.

Ford: Yeah?

Stan: Yeah. I been thinkin’ we could use some time off. All of us. Chance to disconnect and decompress from day-to-day life, y’know. We should do a movie day—just spend the rest of today together watchin’ some far out flicks, not worryin’ ‘bout anything in particular. Whaddya say, Sixer?

Ford, wavering: All of us, you said? Well … [sighs] Yeah, sure, okay. Why the heck not? What’re we watching?

[loniface]

1. What would you consider your favorite holiday? Why is this? I prefer the day after Valentine’s Day because of all that discount candy, but if ya’ll wanna see me get all mushy-gushy, Valentine’s Day is also mine and the dude’s anniversary of being a couple, so I’m biased.

2. When did you last fight with your significant other? We’ve yet to have a fight.

3. Do you do any special workouts to stay in shape? I currently don’t do a damn thing and I hate my body for it.  But, when I am getting into shape, it’s mostly crunches and walking.

4. If you’re a girl, do you have big hips? Too big? I got my grandma’s wide-ass hips and a flat butt.

5. Do people tend to call you by any certain nicknames? Only special people--and they know who they are--can call me Lonz.

6. When was the last time you had alcohol? What kind? It’s been so long, I can’t remember.  I take too many meds to take a chance on alcohol.

7. When was the last time you talked to your father? Like a few minutes ago.

8. What are the last four numbers of your phone number? 2013.

9. Is there anything / one you’re losing faith in right now? I’d say ‘humanity’ but there are still good people out there.

10. When is the next time you’ll eat chocolate candy? I just had an ice cream cone and I got like three cookies left in the pack.

11. Is there a day you’d just like to forget? Which one? Can I blot out my entire 20′s?

12. Are you someone who takes too many surveys? Probably, but I like answering questions.  I found this one ironically.

13. Girls, do you think you look good in dresses or not? I don’t do dresses/skirts/shorts.  I do not like my thighs touching.

14. Do you have a whiteboard in your room to remind you of things? Nope, but all my sketchpads are filled with random notes.

15. When was the last time you used a Kleenex? Why? I have no idea.  I tend to not get sick.

16. Do you prefer surveys with long or short questions? I like those that I can answer more than a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to.

17. Have you ever taken a pottery class before? No, but I’m not against trying.

18. Do your parents treat you like you’re still a child? My parents tend to act like I’m fragile thanks to my mental illness, but really, they just leave me to my devices for the most part.

19.Who is your significant other and how did you meet? I’m not ashamed that I had to use a dating service to meet my dude.  He had been living in the city close to me at the time, but he wound up moving back to his hometown after we met in-person and we kept in-touch and became a couple after the fact.

20. Do you talk to people out of the blue? @cloudsfall gets random texts out of me but that’s because I love her and miss her.

21. What was the last nightmare you had about? Anything odd? My nightmares are usually a variation of actual past traumas but I’ve thankfully only had the usual zombie nightmare as of late.

22. Is your life basically based on deja vu? Or, not so much? My life is kinda same ol’, but not that monotonous.

23. When was the last time someone dumped you? Probably 2011 or 2012.

24. Can you recall your eighth birthday? What was the cake? Nope, can’t remember the birthday but there’s always been cake involved.  I know that much.  My mom always baked whatever flavor I wanted and it was usually vanilla/chocolate with cream cheese icing.

25. Do you feel like you’re losing someone close right now? I feel I’m drifting from a lot of people because of different interests.  Perhaps it’s because I have too casual a relationship with everyone that I feel I don’t have to talk often to anyone until I realize how much time has passed since I did talk to them.  Does that make sense?

26. What color are the buttons on your remote? I’m too lazy to even look for it but it’s probably black, white, and grey.

27. What is the one stereotype people label you as most? The Artist.

28. Can you count how many lovers you’ve had on one hand? Yes, and you can even cut off a few fingers and get the same effect.

29. Do you like dark chocolate or white more? What about milk chocolate? I don’t like dark chocolate at all, but give me all the rest, especially with a raspberry filling, yum.

30. Who makes you the most angry in your life right now? My neighbor’s little yappy dog who barks 24/7.

31. How many times have you seen Star Wars? Be honest. I’ve seen every movie except The Last Jedi at least once.

32. Can people normally tell your mood, by your facial expression? I have a pretty good poker face, but my eyebrows give me away.

33. What was the last number you pushed on your phone? Hell if I know, I keep my phone’s history pretty clean.

34. Do you like flowers? What’s your favorite kind? I like flowers, but I don’t like their short lifespans.  Don’t really have a favorite, but if it’s purple, it’s awwwright in my book.

35. How many grades have you failed in your life? Never failed a class despite my absolute dumbassery in all things Math.

36. Do you own a car? What car is it? Yes, a 2002 Ford Escape named General Thibodaux II.

37. What is your favorite show to watch on television? I don’t watch television?  I’m so far behind on everything anyway.

38. What are the initials of your last ex? CR, I think.

39. Are you someone who can easily keep a secret? Yeah.

40. Do you understand algebra, or have you ever? I was home-schooled in the eighth grade, and my teacher wasn’t very sympathetic to the fact I Did Not Understand Pre-Algebra and it just snowballed from there.  I had to take remedial courses in college and still don’t know why there’s an alphabet in my math.

41. Do you or have you ever had a problem with going barefoot? I hate wearing shoes but I had reconstructive surgery (hence being home-schooled) and my feet are super-sensitive to this day, so I tend to keep shoes on until I’ve had my nightly shower for their own protection.

42. What is one thing that tends to freak you out? Extreme close-ups of eyeballs.

43. Have you been swimming so far this year? How much? Nope, weather doesn’t permit it yet.

44. Do you ever think you’re being cheated on? I have been.  Spoiler alert: it’s not That Great.

45. When was the last time you painted something? A few months ago, I painted a 3D Bulbasaur planter that I gave @luxwing for their birthday.