#it’s cold as balls in these things and they’re super trippy I’m so right and you know it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

Note

you don't have to write it if it doesn't speak to you, but i just read and loved your fic where peter calms tony down from a panic attack, and now i offer a Good Concept: Peter trying to help Tony get through a meeting at SHIELD when Tony's spacey and in pain from a headache/fever?

@taylortut !!!! I really like this prompt girl!!

In the course of his lifetime Tony has witnessed the discovery of alien life, multiple alien invasions, discovering that the very threads of his reality all coincided within 6 stones, and yet he had never been more confused in his life up until this moment.

Everything Nick Fury says seems to be a jumble of words that don’t seem to be any language, perhaps some alien language but even then they’re barely even audible. They’re all slurred together and seemingly slowed down like his VCR tape had just malfunctioned.

He feels warm and hot all over and he felt like his face was on fire but his lower half was stuck in the middle of the arctic, and he wanted to scream. There was part of him that wanted to throw a tantrum and crawl up on the floor wailing in agony, but he was a grown man who was much respected with a very strong image to pursue and doing such a thing was..out of character, to the say the least.

Tony doesn’t remember the last time he felt this sick, hell, he doesn’t even think he’s ever felt this sick in his entire life. He grits his teeth together as he braces this headache that comes in ravaging like a hurricane in his head, destroying every cell in his brain. His fists are balled intensely in an attempt to anchor himself through this whirlwind of pain, and he doesn’t know if he’s really not concealing his discomfort well at all or Peter is just this observant but either way he can sense that the kid is staring holes into him.

Peter, as always, is kind and loving, with a soul softer than his damn hair, which is pretty damn soft. He doesn’t stare at Tony with malicious or judging intent, he stares at him with genuine concern and worry, and this sort of nervous energy he sort of sees in himself. He knows this kid isn’t his, but it sure feels like it.

Peter doesn’t quite know sign language all too well, he’s only just started after all (because he was an avenger now, all the avengers know sign language for Clint, why was he any different? and yes, Mr Stark, he was an avenger now) and he seems to be making up his own bizzaro form of sign language, which mostly consisted of an equally outlandish series of facial expressions. Tony has absolutely no clue what this kid is trying to communicate, but he can only assume is a, ‘you okay?’

As dumb and ridiculous as this exchange is, at least its amusing and it’s giving him a break from everything else that’s going on. Peter’s great at that. He gives him a little break from everything in the world that’s shitty and bleak and shows him what’s right with the world. His headache hurt a little bit less.

Tony raises an eyebrow in amusement.

Peter shows a bit agitation, frustrated he can’t quite get his point across, not wanting to interrupt Fury who seems to still be going on about these Ravagers he doesn’t really understand, and tries mouthing his message, but Tony pretends like he doesn’t understand, because yes he’s sick but he’s a little shit and being sick doesn’t stop that.

Peter, who’s directly in front of him, gives him a look that just tells him he knows what he’s up to. He looks absolutely done with him. He sighs dramatically, and goes on listening to some guy who’s started drone on and on about budget control. Tony knows he’s not really listening though and trying to discreetly check in on him, and he makes a mental note to see about teaching Peter a thing or two about stealth.

But all the joking and lighthearted tomfoolery doesn’t last long and it fades quickly and the storm starts up again. He feels awfully lightheaded and his head hurts so much, his whole body is heavy and he feels lost. It’s like he’s disconnected and disassociated and he’s simply hovering around, him and his body seeming to not connect. He feels a little delirious like his entire body is slowly dying off in a desert and his face is burning.

He feels like his body is begging for rest, gripping at his chair to anchor himself as he’s hit with yet another tidal wave of pain, nausea, and hot and cold waves and Peter seems to sense this. He eyes him worriedly, trying to keep up his discreet charade but he gives it up.

“Do you guys want some water?” Peter chirps up suddenly, interrupting the guy who’s still on about budget control, earning himself an annoyed look. He blushes a little as he realises what he’s done is a little rude, but to him Tony’s welfare is more dire right now than how much money is being allocated towards a new doorway.

“You can get some if you want, Mr Parker,” He sighs, teeth gritted and quickly resuming his bit.

Tony shoots Peter a tired look but the kid is gone in a flash, and when he’s gone it’s like everything is much worse because there’s no one to sulk at. He stifles a cough into the tailored fabric of his suit jacket, going relatively unnoticed which he’s glad for. He lets himself slump just a little, not too much, he still has an image, but he lets that image go just the tiniest bit.

Every second Peter is gone seems to last an eternity and a half. The world does by in this agonisingly slow pace, it seems to blur out of focus so his headache is heightened and he can practically hear his head throbbing. He feels so incredibly faint and so horrible he doesn’t know if he’s even here, it’s a nightmarish version of his life that is so surreal and trippy without the promise of a high.

Eventually Peter returns with a cart full of glasses, and passes some to random people in the conference room. Tony thinks about how out of place he looks, but he understands it for him and it makes him love the kid a lot more now. He wheels the cart towards the him, and passes him a glass of cold water that his brain is crying tears of joy for, as well as a oddly folded napkin.

Tony eyes it suspiciously and lifts the fold to reveal two aspirins and all he can do is give Peter the look of pure gratitude and euphoria.

Peter deliberately drops a napkin to crouch down and whisper, “I got them off this really nice lady called Daisy–you owe me one.”

He discreetly pops the pills into his mouth and gives Peter a nod, taking a good sip of his water. He doesn’t normally accept good actions like this so casually, but he lets his pride go because the sense of gratitude and appreciation he feels outweighs any sense of gargantuan ego he has.

And then everything felt like it was going to be fine. ‘Hell yeah I’m gonna make it through this’, Tony thinks proudly, his headache hurts and the cold and hot waves are rushing up and down him in the most uncomfortable way but he can handle this. He can hold on. Things are actually going in his favour for once. Everything is okay in the world.

But then hell breaks loose and Tony’s world is entirely shaken and flipped and nothing is okay.

He doesn’t exactly know what’s happened because his mind is focused solely on not passing out and keeping up a healthy facade, but he thinks Thunderbolt Ross said something that pissed off Fury and they’re yelling and they’re so loud and there’s more voices yelling and it’s all meddling and it’s just too much.

There’s a ringing in his ears and the room is closing in and Tony can hear his heart thumping and he can feel it and the dull roar of the ringing is now a shrill shriek. The lights seem to be fading in and out and the sounds only seem to get louder and everything seems to be heavier and weighing down on him

and Tony is drowning.

Tony swallows hard as his heart races and his breathing shallows and his hands are sweating. He grips the chair hard and tightly and the pressure he’s applying is so much he can feel the skin of his palms straining and his skin burns. He looks around wildly, his lip trembling and he’s shaking and he feels so lost. He feels so sick and his body cannot handle any more and he’s losing control fast and Tony more than anything hates losing control because he feels like he’s floating away and he feels so hauntingly light.

He desperately wants to ground himself and come back because he’s so terrified he’ll float away so far he can never come back. But then his gaze locks upon Peter’s and it’s like he’s grabbed his hand just before he’s fallen off the cliff into nothingness.

And he still feels like he’s teetering off the edge but he’s still here, and as Peter gives him the kindest look he’s ever seen he feels himself being brought back up to the surface slowly but surely. Everything else seems to fade into a dull roar and he focuses his entire entity on to him.

‘Breathe’, Peter mouths, and he begins to breathe in and out slowly and steadily, gesturing for him to follow suit.

Tony nods shakily, and slowly tries to match him. He’s off tempo and he’s rushing, coming in a bit too early but he gets a sense of the rhythm and follows him, never once tearing his gaze, completely locked on him. And he feels safe. He’s still here.

Peter gives him a smile, a proud smile, and Tony’s left wondering what he ever did to deserve such a sweet person in his life.

Peter’s face shifts and he pulls out his phone, pretending to read a text, and it’s really obvious, and the mental note Tony made to teach Peter about stealth seems to climb up quite a bit.

“Uh, guys?” Peter interrupts the chaos that is Shield’s conference room, earning a particularly venomous look from that budget control guy from earlier.

“Yes, Mr.Parker?” Ross sighs.

“Uh, I just got a text from Mr Rhodes and he says he needs myself and Mr Stark like..uh..urgently?” Peter lies.

“Just go,” He brushes off quickly, seemingly uninterested and diving right into his angry tangent.

Peter gestures towards Tony, raising his eyebrows and heading towards the door. Tony follows, the journey a horrendous trek that seemed to leach every single joule of energy remaining in his body. He keeps himself straight and professional, but the moment the doors closed he feels his knees buckling and his body becoming light and his world begin to tilt.

Peter was quicker, his instincts alert and responsive and in a swoop his arm was catching him and pulling him upright, supporting and caring.

“We gotta get you home, Mr.Stark, I’ll call Happy,” Peter suggests, his grip strong but not hurtful in any sense.

“You shouldn’t see me like this,” Tony laments, remorse and shame lacing his words.

“Why not?”

“Your role models shouldn’t be weak.”

Peter is silent for a moment, but he softens, “All my heroes aren’t perfect.”

“Captain America was the scrawny little guy from New York,” Peter explains softly, and chuckles, “Just like me.”

“Dr Banner has some mental health problems. Hawkeye is hard of hearing. Black Widow used to be an assassin. Winter Soldier’s going through some pretty serious trauma, and so is Falcon. The Scarlet Witch worked with Ultron. And Thor..uh, he seems pretty perfect but uh, I’m sure there’s something–oh yeah, he’s got pretty strong emotions he can’t resist sometimes.”

“But my point is.. All my heroes aren’t perfect . And neither are you and that’s okay. It helps me know that I can be somebody too, you know?” Peter says, and looks over at him to give him a reassuring smile that tells him everything will be okay.

“I..didn’t have a lot growing up and seeing that my favourite heroes don’t have everything makes me feel like I can really do something with my life, you know? All I need..is that drive to make the world better, right? So yeah, no, I gotta disagree with you Mr Stark, my role models don’t have to be always strong. They just gotta keep trying.”

Tony can’t help his smile, “The whole world should be like you, kid. Kids like you remind me about why we do this.”

Tony puts a hand on his shoulder and brings him a bit closer, “Now, enough sap talk and let’s get me the hell home.”

#tony stark #peter parker #iron dad #spiderman #iron man #spiderman homecoming #marvel #mcu #sickfic #tw panic attacks #whump #sick tony #fever #hurt/comfort #prompts #marvel cinematic universe

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nitewrighter · 6 years

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Could you do a prompt during the overwatch crisis

ugggh okay so I’ve had this prompt like 50% complete in my drafts for months but every time I attempt to finish/post it, I always lose chunks of it. It’s like it’s cursed or something. BUT TODAY I BREAK THAT CURSE AND BRING YOU R76!!!

—-

Battery Davis wasn’t meant to be a fort–well it had been, well over a century ago, but not these days. But for now it was all that was keeping the rain off of them, and all that was hiding them from the encroaching horde of OR14s and Bastions. They had managed to divert a significant force of the Omnics away from the city Jack and Gabe crouched in the cement tunnel and waited for the groan of metal and the binary roar of OR14s. The air was damp, heavy and cold and the sky was starless from the fog.

“Reasons to live—go,” said Jack.

“Pork banh mi,” said Gabe.

“Just… jumping to food right off the bat? No, ‘I’ve got kin back home,’ or…?”

“Jack, I’m fucking hungry,” said Gabe, “Also I should clarify: this is no ordinary pork banh mi–this would be a pork banh mi from the ‘Banh Mi Me’ food truck on La Brea.”

“Ah of course,” said Jack, “I guess… that’s still technically home.”

“What–you gonna start waxing poetic about your cornfields?” said Gabe.

Jack half-snorted half-scoffed. “You know I could never let myself stay there,” said Jack.

“Well… congratulations, you get to see the world. Welcome to fabulous San Francisco–you know if you get to the hill above the battery you can see the bridge… what’s left of it, at least.”

Jack huffed and smiled. “We’ll fix it later,” he said, smiling.

“You said that back in St. Louis. Jack, I really want to know, how the fuck are we going to get that arch back up?”

“I don’t know. My job is to keep shooting until we have time to figure that part out,” said Jack.

Gabe snorted. “Why couldn’t they shoot up Rushmore? Giant stone heads always freaked me out…” he trailed off and glanced over at Jack, “You still haven’t named yours yet.”

“Well if I say ‘my folks’ that’s going to sound guilt-trippy and corny now,” said Jack, “And if I say a food you’ll start going on about the horrors of Indiana cuisine.”

“Oh my god you have a food in mind.”

“I never said I—” Jack scoffed, “Sauerkraut Balls.”

“Sauerkraut what,” Gabe repeated.

“Well like–Fried pickles—they’re good, right?” said Jack.

“Yes,” Gabe said hesitantly.

“Well it’s… pickled cabbage, and you…roll it up in a ball with ham and cream cheese–”

“Oh my god—”

“…and you fry it.”

“Jack, we have been the lab rats of a government experiment that killed off two thirds of the participants, we have been fighting murderous robots for four months, we could literally die here, and yet that, that right there is the most horrifying thing I can think of.”

“There we go—Horrors of Indiana cuisine,” said Jack with an eye roll.

“Battery Team, scouts are finally getting movement from the OR14s. Need you moving to flank. Let’s keep these reinforcements from reaching the city.”

SEP operations were still black ops in those days. The military thought it was better to have them working behind the scenes, softening the blows on the main forces rather than making the subjects of a controversial super-soldier program front and center in the fight against the Omnics. Gabe brought down his night vision goggles and was able to make out some lights moving among the eucalyptus and cypress trees.

“Out of audio range,” said Jack, loading his rifle as they crouched low in the battery tunnel, “Think ours are still motion-based, or do you think they got the same update as the Detroit Omnium with the thermal vision?”

“Half the shit coming out of the Michigan front is unverified, Jack, you know that,” said Gabe, tweaking his goggles slightly.

An OR14′s head swiveled toward him.

“Shit. Thermal. They got thermal,” said Gabe as the OR14 let out a binary screech to its compatriots. Both Jack and Gabe leapt out of the way of the blaze of bastion turret fire that now filled the battery tunnel. “Any ideas?!” Jack had to shout over the roar of fire. There was a brief pause as one of the turrets had to cool down when Jack laid down some cover fire to keep them from heading through the tunnel.

“Keep ‘em busy, I’ll flank,” said Gabe, scrambling up the ice plant-covered hillside the battery had been dug into. Jack could feel the rain on the back of his neck mingle with a clammy sweat. Just stay calm. Trust that Gabe knew what he was doing and it would all work out. They’d done this before. Jack sometimes wondered if the SEP program had done something to their heads—maybe opened up some neural paths that only he and Gabe had access to, knowing each others’ moves like a well-rehearsed dance with only a few words and a knowing look. The SEP should have been lonely, considering how many people died during those first few trials. But not with Gabe. It should have been horrifying and it was, objectively, horrifying, but Gabe was there, so at the same time, it wasn’t. This should be horrifying, objectively it was horrifying, but all the same, Gabe was there, so it wasn’t. He leaned through the tunnel and laid down more suppressing fire. He gave a glance down to the ammunition indicator on the barrel of his pulse rifle, gradually dropping toward the red. Keep looking at me, he though, Keep your eyes on me.

Then Gabe dropped in. One blast from his BLK001 shotguns to the right spot and the rudimentary processors used for bastion units were shut down. One bastion down. The OR14 turned toward him, giving jack an opening to helix rocket it in the side of the head.

“Gabe!” Jack rushed down the tunnel to back him up as Gabe kicked out the coupling for the bastion’s main gun and puzzled over the mess of wires. Jack looked through the grove of cypress trees to see more lights from various omnic units. “We really need to get moving—” he started and ducked down as several shots from an OR14 whizzed past his head.

“Hey–wanna see me do something stupid?” said Gabe, gunfire just barely missing him as he bent over the bastion.

“Stupider than staying here when we’ve got more Bastions on our ass?” said Jack, taking out an incoming bastion mid-reconfigure.

“Yeah–” Gabe pried open a panel on his half-collapsed bastion and tore out some wires.

“What are you–?” Jack started but the broken bastion’s turret suddenly burst to life sending out hails of bullets.

“Christ, Gabe” said Jack, flinching away hard as the gun went off. The omnics suddenly reared back at fire from one of their own, previously thought dead.

“Help me with this!” said Gabe, holding the turret gun in place.

“Shit—” Jack shouldered his rifle and took hold of the rotary barrel next to Gabe. He could feel the gunmetal going red hot through his gloves as they both shoved their weight against the rapidly firing gun and threw its line of fire to the incoming omnic horde. They couldn’t even hear each other over the roar of the gun. Jack was screaming. Gabe was laughing. Then Jack was also laughing. Finally the rotary came to a spinning, smoking stop and Gabe and Jack were left standing on the collapsed remains of their commandeered bastion and the shelled out wreckage of numerous omnics strewn about the bullet-riddled eucalyptus and cypress trees.

“That was crazy,” said Jack.

“That,” said Gabe, elbowing him, “Was fun.”

“Remind me to try and give you a normal idea of ‘fun’ when this is all over,” said Jack.

“Tch. Like you want a normal idea of fun,” said Gabe.

“Morrison! Reyes!” Their CO’s voice crackled over the comms, “Where are those OR14′s?”

“Battery Davis is secured,” said Jack, touching his finger to his ear, “We’ll fill you in on the details l—”

“Incoming!” Gabe suddenly shouted.

Jack didn’t have time to think. He heard only the whir and clank of a bastion reconfiguring into a tank when Gabe tackled him hard from the waist and suddenly the ground right next to where they had been standing erupted in a spray of earth and fire and hunks of metal. The force of the blast threw them both several yards and they landed with a few painful bounces among the wreckage of the omnics they had just taken out. Jack covered his head as the ground exploded again several yards away from them and glanced over at Gabe, who was draped pietà style across the remains of an OR14, his face heavily bloodied.

“Gabe–!” Jack started. Gabe didn’t respond. Jack gritted his teeth and picked up his gun. He sprinted head on against the bastion, the ground exploding on either side of him as he barely dodged the shells of the cannon. With two jumps he launched himself airborne off of the broken frame of another bastion, just in time to see the bastion attempt to reconfigure itself back into recon mode. It was obliterated in a blast of helix rockets and Jack rolled across the ground, panting. He looked at the collapsed steel frame of the bastion, He shot the bastion unit right in its flickering optic receptor for good measure before giving a sharp glance over his shoulder back at Gabe.

“Shit–” he sprinted back to Gabe, “Shit-shit-shit–” he cupped Gabe’s bloodied face in his hands and did his best to wipe some of the blood away, revealing several large gashes on Gabe’s face, “…Shit…” he said again, setting down a biotic field, “Come on–” he shook Gabe, “Get up! Hey! Gabe you are not dying from this, you hear me? Reasons to live, remember? You’re getting that stupid Pork bun thing from that food truck!”

Gabe suddenly coughed. “Banh Mi,” he said.

“What?” said Jack.

��Pork Banh Mi. Not Pork bun. it’s a sandwich—”

“Dammit, Gabe you scared the shit out of me,” said Jack, gripping Gabe’s shoulders.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Gabe coughed, he suddenly squinted his eyes, “Ah shit—” he wiped his own blood out of his eyes and looked at the blood smeared on his glove, “Jack–please tell me I’m still pretty,” said Gabe, his fingers tracing among the new gashes on his face.

Jack just huffed out a sigh, bent and touched his forehead to Gabe’s. “You’re goddamn beautiful, Reyes,” said Jack.

#morreyeson #r76

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