Peter Parker being utterly terrified of small spaces after what happened in Homecoming, but he never says it to any of the Avengers because he can’t have weaknesses, he can’t be afraid of anything, none of them are- they’re only going to be reminded of how childish he is if he admits something like that.
Except one night they’re all eating take-out in the compound, and for the life of him Peter can’t remember how they managed to get onto the topic, but they start talking about fears. At first, Peter just shakes his head, denies it, he’s Spiderman, he’s not afraid of anything– but then he hears Steve speak, really quietly, and admit that he can’t stand being in water. Not after the plane crash.
And then Thor speaks up. He tells them all that he’s absolutely terrified of being alone. He can’t stand it, and sometimes it takes as little as a day of solitude before he has to find someone, anyone to talk to, or he feels like he can’t breathe.
Then Natasha tells everyone she’s afraid of dogs, her face blank, her fists slightly clenched, and she doesn’t explain any further, and no one asks. Clint tells them all he has a horrible fear of needles. Every time he needs an injection, he vomits. Bruce? Bruce has panic attacks in large crowds. He tells them all he has to skip out on charity galas and parties because he’s so terrified, sometimes.
Then Peter looks at Tony, and expects nothing, because really, it’s Iron Man. He’s been through everything, and he doesn’t even bat an eye at any of it. He’s the one Peter could never have finding out about his own weakness. Because Tony trusts him, Tony respects him, and if he knew Peter was so afraid of something so trivial, he’d surely-
“I’m scared of the dark,” Tony shrugs, looking down, and Peter just… stops.
The dark. Something as simple as the dark, and Tony is… Tony is afraid of the dark.
Iron Man is afraid of the dark.
Tony raises an eyebrow at Peter, and he realizes he’s staring. He looks down quickly, feeling like his heart is about to beat out of his ribcage.
That’s the day that he discovers something very, very important.
He’s can be scared, and still be a hero.
fucking ow
Before Peter’s brain catches up with his mouth, he blurts, “I’m afraid of small spaces.”
His knees pull in to his chest before he can command himself to stay relaxed, and he throws a quick look at Tony before continuing. “When I— when I was fighting Vulture, he— he dropped a building on me, and—“
A sharp “What.” sounds from his left but he presses on, feeling his heart leap into his throat and tears pour down his face.
“I couldn’t get out at first. And it was scary. And no one could hear me.” He sniffles a little and wipes his nose, staring down at his take-out with shaky hands. “I never told anyone. Not until today.”
He feels eyes on him and something tells him it’s Tony. The hairs on his neck prickle, telling him a building is going to fall on him again, or something just as bad— and his face crumples, so he hides between his knees and sobs into his thighs. “I’m sorry!” He warbles, shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry I never told you!”
“Peter, I— it’s okay.” Tony’s hand rests lightly on his shoulder but still he flinches before leaning back in, too embarrassed to look his mentor in the eye. “You— you told me now. And you got the bad guy. Pete, I’m not mad.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers anyway. “I’m sorry for crying.”
Tony throws an exasperated look at the Avengers before pulling Peter in for a sound hug, putting his chin on top of his head. “Stop being sorry, Pete. I’m not mad. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Peter’s body trembles still, and he feels far too tired to lift his arms to hug him back. “Okay.”
Natasha crawls over, food forgotten. “Petey, it’s okay to be afraid. There isn’t a hero in all the world who hasn’t been scared before.”
Sam ruffles his hair in lieu of confirmation with a smile. “She’s right for once, kiddo.”
Bucky and Steve hum in agreement and Natasha punches Sam’s shoulder. “I’m always right, asshole.”
“Does the decaf coffee have caffeine?” What the fuck do you think!
“Can I get a bacon sandwich”
“Which one sir? We have three of them”
“The one with the bacon on it”
Hi my name is Customer McDumbass and I ordered six frappaccinos, all different, during a rush right before my flight is supposed to board and I’m mad my drinks aren’t done yet!
Um. Decaf has caffeine. Chemically decaffeinated somewhat less so than Swiss water process decaf, but it still has enough to fuck with particularly sensitive people.
I mentioned this in the replies but the customer asked because they wanted the coffee with the MOST caffeine and thought decaf was that. It was genuinely stupid I promise
Me: “I have a small cappuccino for Caitlin!”
Customer: “What? But I ordered a large Americano!”
Me: “What’s your name?”
Customer: “Laurie”
I have customers walk away with the wrong drink so often because of that constantly. Like ma’am, you ordered a large frap. Does this medium hot cup really seem like it’s the right beverage for you???????
“And WHY exactly can’t I use my coupon?”
“…because your coupon is for a regular priced item, and your item is on sale.”
“Well, how was I supposed to KNOW it was on sale?”
“Well, ma’am, there was a sign right above it on the shelf–”
“I came in here to SHOP, not to READ.”
Dude I have people with bones coming out of their body asking me if I think it’s an emergency and if they should go to the hospital or wait till it gets better. Like humans are just plain stupid
WHY CANT I USE MY COUPON TWICE???
“Where are my vouchers? I was told I would get them!”
“No sir, you took out business with us two months before the voucher offer started.”
“So I’m going to get my vouchers?”
“No sir, because you started business with us before the offer began.”
“I want my vouchers!”
“You aren’t eligible for any voucher sir.”
“This is ridiculous! I was told I would get vouchers.”
“Actually sir we’ve listened to all the calls, and no one mentioned the vouchers to you.”
“…So when will I get my vouchers?”
B o I
Reblogging for the comic
That “grabbing the obviously wrong drink” thing pissed me off so much when I was a barista. It really made me lose faith in humanity’s intelligence.
Yesterday a woman who ordered a mocha grabbed someone else’s chai, despite names being announced and written on cups, drank half of it, then returned it and yelled at me because it wasn’t her drink. Customers really are that stupid
“That customer who ordered after me got her food first!”
Yes sir, she ordered an untoasted bagel with cream cheese and lettuce. You ordered six pancakes and four omelettes.
The setting: Our grave domain cleric used Channel Divinity to curse the newly hatched black dragon wyrmling we were facing (makes vulnerable to any damage) and then our sorcerer cast Magic Missile on it.
DM: All 3 missiles drill into the wyrmling, splattering gore across the back wall as it drops to the floor, dead. Damn, I was hoping you guys would take some damage from this fight. [We’re squishy level 3s]
Party: Wooo!
DM: However, the wyrmling’s pool of acidic blood is now slowly eating through the floor.
Druid: Umm, can I shape water to waterbend the blood out of the corpse, off the floor, and out the window? Blood’s mostly water, right?
DM, IRL fount of random scientific knowledge:…I guess? Hmm. I wonder, would that leave the acid behind? Is there now just straight acid on the floor reacting with the moisture in the wood?
Bard, IRL Master of Biomedical Science[paraphrased because this was 3 weeks ago and it got really sciency]: Well, if all the water was pulled out you’d have it reacting with things like sodium and you’d just end up with salt I think.
The two of them went on for another 5 minutes debating back and forth about what the acid would do out of solution, depending on concentration, type of acid, etc.
DM: OK, ok, I’ll let you waterbend the whole mess out out the window. You now have a desiccated wyrmling corpse, a corpse, and a vaguely burnt spot on the floor.
I felt like I needed to clarify some things before we could continue any more conversations on this godforsaken website.
I’m very proud of the European Robin, I think I really captured it.
ALSO A DADDY LONG LEGS is different in the UK vs USA. I learned that by arguing with some Brits because they said there was a daddy long legs on the wall, i looked and only saw an insect, argued with them all for 45 minutes until we all looked it up and saw that we were both correct.
British badger: jovial fellow, eats toast and jam. Might invite you in for a cuppa with the Mrs. Agricultural nuisance.
American badger: pallas cat of a wolverine. Very defensive. Fuck immediately off.
Bonus African badger: Silverback gorilla of mustelids. Should be a cryptid. Bro, don’t even. You are nothing to him.
