currently watching mighty med to prepare myself for elite force and oliver is so ocd its not even funny. when skylar told him that stepping on cracks wont break his mother’s back and he defensively said that she didnt KNOW that. oh my god. that is so me. i used to do that. oliver. and hes an obsessive germaphobe. just like me fr.
hello Mighty Med fandom. in Mighty Med episode "Two Writers Make a Wrong" in the background of Ambrose's office (around the 4 minute mark) you can see the corner of a comic issue with the DC logo in the top left. this comic is Red Lanterns Issue 18. thanks for your time.
hello Mighty Med fandom. in Mighty Med episode "Two Writers Make a Wrong" in the background of Ambrose's office (around the 4 minute mark) you can see the corner of a comic issue with the DC logo in the top left. this comic is Red Lanterns Issue 18. thanks for your time.
Not a lot, sorry to say. I have a friend @adamandtanksbitch who really adores them. But I… Just don’t know. I haven’t seen much of Mech X4- despite it being on my need to watch list.
I will say though… By looks judgment alone…. okay, I’m sorry, but the guy looks like a discount Willy Wonka
Maybe I’m 100% crazy BUT THESE TWO COULD BE BROTHERS I SWEAR TO YOU.
Spyder’s head snapped to the side, reeling in pain from the aggression of the slap. It hurt, sure, but he’d had worse. He looked back up, grinning smugly at his captor. “That all you got?”
Grey glared at him, hitting him again. And again.
He wheezed, but kept up his smile, even as his nose began to dribble blood. He’d had worse.
“You seem frustrated,” he said, peppy as ever, “boss treating you badly?”
“Insufferable brat,” she grumbled below her breath, just loud enough for Spyder to hear. Well, that was pretty rude. “I’ve had just about enough of you,” she said, snatching up a roll of duct tape off a nearby table. He wondered if it was the same roll that had been confiscated off his person when he’d first been captured. He never did leave home without duct tape, after all.
He was just about to voice his question, genuinely curious, but of course, he wasn’t granted the chance. Grey ripped of a strip, threw the roll back on the table, and reapproached him with that same level of fury.
He was just about to voice his question, genuinely curious (and so he could save his helpful friend when he got out of here), but he didn’t get the chance. Grey ripped off a strip, threw the roll back on the table, and reproached with that same level of fury.
His squirming to avoid it was only half-hearted as she pressed it firmly over his mouth. Why waste the energy?
“We’ll see if you’re more willing after the rest of us eat. Hope you don’t get too hungry, brat.”
He hummed a positive acknowledgement, just to irk her. Grey huffed out a frustrated groan, but turned on her heel, slamming the door behind her.
Trying to starve him, huh? Now that was child’s play. He often went to bed with a deep pit in his stomach, nothing to do but sleep away the hunger. Sometimes he would give in and dig out a long-expired can of spaghetti-o’s or beef ravioli, though… that would bring its own set of problems. There was a reason it was only his most desperate measure.
The point was: he’d had far, far worse than a skipped dinner.
It was like Grey had never even met his parents! Though, considering how sloppy of a principal she’d been, he was fairly certain she hadn’t met most of the students’ parents. Though she had gone through all that recon when she was stalking Ryan… hmm.
Whatever. He could do this literally all day (not that he had much choice, tied up as he was). With nothing better to do, he started humming to himself, mentally reciting the lyrics to every Ariana Grande song he knew.
An hour or two later (maybe more, maybe less. He really had no way to tell), Grey returned, looking no less pissy than she had when she’d left.
In one fluid movement, she ripped the tape off his face (ow).
“Where did they take him?” she demanded.
“Sorry, who were we talking about again?”
She let out a frustrated yell, dragging the chair he was bound to closer, thrusting her pointy weapon thing right against his chest.
Spyder laughed. He’d had enough glass bottles thrown at him, enough shards sunken into his skin, that the threat hardly even registered in his mind. “Oh, please,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We both know you won’t kill me until my friends show up to save me.”
The sharp tip pressed harder against his skin, nearly enough to draw blood. He really hoped she didn’t rip a hole in his shirt. This was one of the very few he had that wasn’t already ratty.
“Are you sure?” she asked with a smirk.
He shrugged, using the opportunity to nudge the sharp point away. “Eh, I know you want to, but I also know your boss needs me as a hostage, so.”
“I meant,” she said, grinning with teeth that kind of looked like the wolf about to eat a grandmother, “about your so-called “friends” wasting their time to come and save you.”
“Wait, sorry, what?”
She lowered her weapon, like they were about to have a casual conversation between friends. But he’d watched enough documentaries on the animal kingdom to recognize an incoming attack.
“I mean, the robot certainly seems to be functioning just fine without you,” she shrugged, “and it’s kind of obvious that they only like you out of pity.”
He’d only been here for like, a few hours, max, right? At most, they’d only needed to fight one monster in that time, because Traeger was a bitch. But without their weapons specialist… how exactly had they managed a victory? Had they managed a victory?
…Had they replaced him, and put Veracity on weapons? Was she better than him at it?
He flung that thought to the other corner of his mind palace. He was getting distracted and losing focus (not that it was unusual for him). But he couldn’t afford to get anxious right now! “Sure,” he bluffed, as if he knew exactly what was going on with his team, “maybe they’re functioning, but that doesn’t mean anything about them not needing me.” He hoped. “And Ryan, Harris, and I are like, best friends, so fuck off.”
“Oh, yes,” she nodded sarcastically, “because trios are notorious for working out. Which of you usually walked behind the others in the school hallways, again?”
Pfft, that didn’t mean a thing! That just meant that hallways were too crowded, and Spyder just happened to fall to the back… a majority of the time. “Yeah, well. If you don’t think they’ll save me, what’s the point in taking me?”
She pulled her weapon back, studying it in her hand. “Honestly? Traeger thinks they’ll come for you. But I was your principal, remember. I’ve seen the way they interact with you. After you rot here long enough for my boss to get bored… well, I think I’ll enjoy finally shutting you up for good.”
He may have flinched slightly, when she said that. The death threat (or promise, his mind supplied), while far from the first aimed his way, settled at the bottom of his stomach like a rock.
But she wouldn’t get to kill him. Because the others would come for him. What did she know, anyway? Nothing, that was what. She knew even less than Spyder did, and that was saying so much.
At least. That’s what one of the others would say. Spyder liked to think he was smart in some areas — but, you know… he preferred not to bring it up, if he could help it. Because if he showed that he could learn things, they would just be… disappointed in him. For not applying himself harder in the actual important areas. If he could immerse himself in interior design and general architecture styles, why couldn’t he do the same with school?
If he brought it up, they wouldn’t just think he was dumb. They would realize exactly how deeply, hopelessly useless he really was. He much preferred just dumb. At least he could play into that, make it something that could be endearing on a good day.
“Are you gonna torture me for fun or what, lady?” He snapped.
Grey smiled, twirling her weapon in her hand. “I would. But I have more important things to attend to. In the meantime…” she sheathed the blade, then snatched up his roll of duct tape, tearing off a strip. Again. “We don’t need you annoying the neighbors.”
“Bullshit, you don’t have any neighbors out her—” he was forced into silence as she gripped his face hard, forcing the duct tape over his mouth. This time, he did struggle. It made approximately zero difference.
Harris would probably know exactly what percentage of a difference it did make. Probably zero point nine nine nine or something like that. And then he’d judge him for being too stupid to understand what that meant.
The door locked shut with a click as Grey left, and a moment later, the singular lightbulb illuminating his small prison went out, leaving him in absolute darkness.
Great. Great. This was just awesome.
He may have been slick enough to get out of the poorly tied ropes that the butcher had restrained him with in the woods, but this was a whole new ballgame. No matter how he squirmed, he couldn’t get loose.
The important thing was not to panic. There was no reason at all to panic! His friends were coming for him (probably).
He just had to be patient. Which of course, he was… famously bad at.
