#inimitable verse

[spoofymcgee]

been rereading @deniigi's inimitable verse again, and decided that i needed to draw wade in a three piece suit. i did forget the boutonniere, but i think the tie and matching pocket square make up for it a little bit.

[deniigi]

do you ever see yourself coming back to write team red? I don't mean to make you feel bad if not, I get that sometimes as a writer if the interest isn't there then stuff doesn't get written. I just wanted to let you know I love your marvel fics, especially your matt and peter, and if you ever did decide to post there again you will have a fan.

I think about it all the time!

The other day I was thinking about how I would write Peter Parker now that I've grown beyond the Peter in Inimitable.

The issue is that I don't know how to write these characters anymore.

There's like this cognitive dissonance for me between the version of these characters that I spent years establishing, the way that I established them, and the way that I think and write now.

Like one of the things I find rather difficult about Team Red and the way I wrote them before is the prevalence of my use of words like 'idiot' and 'moron.'

I find those terms ableist now and I avoid using them as much as possible. Reading them in the old work is hard; I won't change them because 1) I have better things to do with my life than to scroll through 100 fics to change single words and 2) like the reality is that that is who I was when I wrote them. Those were the biases of the author seeping into the art.

It seems like such a little thing, but it's just an example of how that characterization of Team Red, the threads of chaos and unpredictability and constantly sort of diminishing the other's intelligence or making fun of it doesn't really vibe with who I am now and what I want my work to do.

So that kind of thing keeps stopping me when I try to write Team Red and any of its members.

I'm sure there is a way to do it.

I'm sure that the version of Team Red I could write now would be super interesting and, I hope, more artistically developed. The quality of my writing certainly has increased.

But there is just this stumbling block of like, an audience who expects a certain type of Team Red from me and my inability and refusal to write the same people and way that I did before.

I recognize this is convoluted and mostly in my head, but it's the most honest answer I can give.

Here's to hoping, however. I'll never say never.

[mercury-8-degrees-below]

Angel had to babysit, so the rest of the spiders came to hang.

(Based on the lovely Inimitable ‘Verse by @deniigi

[puffins-studio]

Mini Lab Managers!🧪

@deniigi lab managers from their Inimitable verse or also known as the Skittle crew!

I had a great time making these. Some parts may have been hard but I love the detail and I love how they turned out! They so tiny and cute! 💕

they a little messy, but it just apart of their charm.

[a-blu-jay]

ok so this is rlly stupid but i was in bio and was rlly bored so i sdfhsdif did this 

@deniigi poor peter,,, hes in spain without the S  😔

[seagullcharmer]

@deniigi angel is too cool and idk how to draw her :/

[deniigi]

hi dr matt!! just wanted to drop in and say im absolutely in LOVE with your writing, and i love the way you've written all these characters, especially the relationships between peter and the SI lab managers <3 do you have any ficlets or blurbs to share, perhaps?

For you, anon? I have bits of the unpublished Inimitable ball fic that I have tried and failed to write about 12 times.

--------------

Peter was hoarding a disgusting scorched and weathered rubber ball in his office.

Mr. Stark was trying desperately to talk him out of this behavior from outside the door, but Saanvi got the feeling from the way that Peter showed his teeth when Mr. Stark came any closer that it wasn’t gonna happen.

She didn’t think anything more of it until the next morning when Peter no longer had the ball and had entered a state of crippling depression so deep he’d fit his whole body into one of the work station sinks. He watched water drip from the faucet into the drain like a miserable cat.

“Parker?” Chao asked gently from the other side of the table. “Did you want to get out of the sink?”

Peter shook his head sadly.

“Okay,” Chao said.

-- Saanvi felt someone tugging on her sleeve thirty minutes and turned around to find Bautista staring up at her. She pointed at the lab and announced that Peter had abandoned his sink.

He was nowhere to be found.

This reeked of Spidey business.

Saanvi told Bautista that she’d find him, not to worry. In the meantime, go sort the mail please, and do not look too closely at what Saanvi was about to do next.

Peter was outside in the bushes.

Repeat: in the bushes. Among the shrubbery. Buried in still-living foliage.

“Peter,” she said. “Do you think you’re camouflaged?”

Peter scuffled and hunkered down a little further.

Saanvi no longer had a grip on the situation. It was time for an intervention. --

Peter claimed nothing was happening. He claimed that he was not aware of any slash-marks to his person. He said that he’d never seen an old, weirdly shiny rubber ball before in his life.

He then announced that he was very busy and had to go review the meeting notes over there in that café across the street immediately.

He returned eight minutes later with inexplicably wet hair and denied the existence of any concerning or uncharacteristic behavior.

Leo announced that this intervention had been a failure. They had to take dire action. --

Peter had two partners because he was handsome and charming and full of life and love. His two partners consisted of 1) A gal from the Institute for Biomedical Advancement around the corner who looked like she’d considered brushing her hair once and 2) a mysterious guy who may or may not actually exist but who allegedly did tech work for national security purposes.

Saanvi had met one of them. It was not Mr. Mysterious; it was Ms. Considered a Comb Once. Peter regularly went to have lunch with her and fell over himself trying to make her express an emotion—any emotion whatsoever.

Saanvi didn’t get it, but different strokes for different folks, she guessed. She hoped Peter was happy trying to squeeze an emotional connection out of those two floating brains.

Regardless, dire action meant speaking to Ms. Biomedical Institute.

To do that, however, they’d have to—gag—enter the Institute.

Disgusting. Horrible. The Worst. Someone ready the decontamination shower for their imminent return. --

The Institute was full of labcoats with blue pocket patches who judged their own red patches and stared into Saanvi’s eyes with smoldering rage in their soulless ones.

Saanvi and the others asked one of the receptionists at the front desk if they could speak to the gal who the dude with the yellow sneakers and a coat like theirs came by to harass all the time. They were led straight to her.

Her security card said that her name was ‘Michelle,’ but Saanvi had never heard Peter refer to anyone by that name in her life.

“Are you MJ?” Himani asked for their group.

Michelle stared at them like all her colleagues had before her.

“Where is he?” she asked. --

“Give me the GODDAMN—I don’t care. Give it to me. Now. Give it. I’m not doing this again, Parker. I’m not doing it again,” MJ’s (Michelle) voice threatened from Peter’s office.

It did not sound loving or affectionate. It was much closer to the tone taken by someone trying to wrangle the carcass of a decaying pigeon from their dog’s mouth.

In response, Peter had started doing an alarmingly good impression of a hostile cat. Even the staff passing by his door stopped to lodge a concern with their line of observing managers. Saanvi told them the situation was under control.

MJ (Michelle) set the disgusting, scorched, now concerningly smeared ball on Saanvi’s desk.

“This,” she said, “Is what we in the field call ‘trouble of the first degree.’”

It was a ball.

“It’s not just a ball.”

Could have fooled literally everyone in this building, friend.

“It’s the ball,” MJ (Michelle) said. “And for the sake of you and all your colleagues, I recommend that you take this and you incinerate it.”

O…kay. That was an emotion. Yep. Definitely an emotion on MJ’s face right there.

“Incinerate it?” Leo said. “Are you sure we can’t just, you know, donate it to Goodwill and call it a day?”

MJ’s dark eyes began to bore into his soul. He looked away first and straightened his shirt.

“Right. Burn it. Okay,” he said. “Can’t be too hard, can it?”

MJ picked up the ball and placed it square in his hand.

“If one of them gets ahold of it, there will be nothing but mayhem for the next week,” she said. “Blood and tears will be spilt. One time there was a pipe bomb. For the good of this city, no one can know that Peter has it, has touched it, or has even seen it.”

That sounded a little extreme, no?

“You have no idea what this is,” MJ said. “Destroy it. If you can’t, give it to me and I’ll put it in the acid bath.”

Was Peter dating a secret supervillain? Did he know he was dating a supervillain? Man, talk about cosmic irony. This was like Mr. And Mrs. Smith but with superheroes and evil geniuses.

“Promise me,” MJ said. “Now. Cross your heart.”

There was no other choice in the face of a woman prepared to wield an acid bath. They crossed their hearts and hoped to die.

[deniigi]

hey! ik you're involved in other fandoms rn so you can ignore this ask or wait to answer it if you want, but I just read through a bunch of your inimitable fics again and enjoyed them SO much. I was wondering if angel and louis had last names in your fics, and if louis is pronounces like lou-iss or lou-ee?

Hello!

They do have last names but I can't for the life of me find my notes as to what they are, sorry. I know that Angel's starts with an O. (Maybe Ortiz or Ortege?)

Louis, though, is pronounced like Lou-iss, like St. Louis, the city.