Tom Servo would get a red small fish he named, Tammy. Who would hang out with him in her tank or in Tom’s globe (for when they go adventuring together. )
Crow has a pet parrot named Patrick S. The parrot would probaby sit on his netting and Crow would teach him to say stupid catchphrases from some of his favorite movies.
Gypsy has a kitten named, Ming Ming. He is a black cat and he sleeps on top of Gyps when she shuts down for the night and coils up.
Cambot has Speedy, a pet turtle. He dresses Speedy in hats that he makes himself out of things he finds laying around the S.O.L. (he is very creative.)
Joel would probably have a really old, fat pug. He would snuggle with the pug and nap with him. He would also nap on Joel’s work bench whenever he is working on his latest invention.
Mike’s pet would be a rock. No one would trust him with a real animal so they just gave him a rock. He doesn’t mind though. He holds onto while he works and Mike is always willing to play with the others’ pets.
Jonah would have a tricolor abyssinian guinea pig named Mo. The kind with a little mohawk, hence the name. He lounges around when he does and runs around in laps around his cage while Jonah works. Sometimes Jonah will sneak Mo in his jumpsuit to different places so he has company.
pairing: tom holland x reader
warnings: curse words
“i haven’t slept in three days, i’m pretty sure this stress is giving me an aneurysm and i’m going to die, but god hates me, so i won’t die until after my maths exam.”
you sit in silence, eyes scanning over your textbook as tom’s mouth opens and closes. his face is a little pixelated on your third hand mac.
“i was pushed off a very high building today.” he informs. as if he wasn’t pushed off high things everyday.
you scoff. “you have wires. i’m free falling here into a pit of papers and deadlines. i win.”
you listen to tom’s laugh and smile a bit. it good to hear him laugh. you continue to read through your textbook in silence as tom continues going through lines or arguing with literally anyone. boy could argue with a wall. boy HAS argued with a wall. he was drunk but, you know, point. you barely notice when he leaves the screen and someone else takes his place. not until a pointed cough is made. you glance up to see-
“you’re zendaya coleman.”
“i am!” she answers brightly. “hey, sis. how are you?”
you blink. you breathe. you say, “you’re zendaya coleman.”
zendaya’s smile grows. her make up is flawless. her hair is flawless. she is flawless. you’re in your pajamas and your hair hasn’t been brushed in like, three days. that’s shit is fine in front of tom, tom loves you. but zendaya? she’s an untouchable queen who deserves nothing but the best.
“i literally love you,” you blurt.
she throws her head back in a laugh.
“no, like. say the word and i’ll leave my boyfriend for you. you’re goals everything.”
she laughs harder, “wow! uh, thank you. but please, don’t leave tom. i don’t think i could handle broken hearted tom.”
you nod seriously. “yes, of course. but only because you asked me to.”
zendaya snorts. she runs her fingers through her, again, flawless hair and smiles.
“tom says a lot about you.”
you grimace. “oh no. look if he tells you i mean to him, it’s because he deserves it! i swear i’m not cruel-”
“no! no,” she chuckles, “he just… he talks about you. he sounds really, really happy when he talks about you.”
the nerves that you hadn’t realize took over your body fade. your shoulders slack. you smile softly.
“yeah.” you breathe, “he makes me really happy, too.”
zendaya’s smile mirrors yours.
“so, you’re in college? he says you’re wanting to do really great things. help a lot of people?”
“yes!” you light up.
and before you know it, you’ve forgotten all about the stress of school work and due dates and you’re discussing your goals and dreams and aspirations with zendaya like she’s an old friend. somewhere along the line the conversation flows to politics to snapchat filters to puppies, as it does naturally.
you’re both deep into discussion about maltese vs. pugs when tom returns. he’s sporting his full spiderman gear minus the mask.
“hey z. hey, babe. miss me?”
“no, not really.” you answer distractedly.
he doesn’t even bother to look offended as other people crowd around him. he disappears behind some folding doors for a moment before returning in a pair of loose jeans and a half buttoned shirt.
“can i have my girlfriend back?” he asks playfully.
he gets a playful glare from both you and zendaya before she hops up from her seat. he takes her place as she looks over his shoulder at the screen.
“have tom give you my number, we still have to hash out this whole “pug filters are cuter” thing.“
then with a sweet smile she’s out of frame.
"babe,” you hiss.
tom leans back in the chair and raises an eyebrow.
“yes, my love?”
“i just kind of met zendaya coleman,” you breathe. “oh my god.”
tom chuckles, “yeah, she’s pretty great!”
you’re still lowkey reeling over the conversation in awe. then you realize. tom looks worried as your face falls into your hands with a painful groan.
you groan louder.
“i made a fool of myself! my god- i. oh no…”
you can’t see him, but you hear some shuffling before tom whispers, “don’t worry. i got a little star struck too when i met her. she has that affect on people.”
“yeah, sure,” you snort. “butdid you offer to give up your boyfriend for her?”
you realize your second mistake when you look up to see tom’s wide eyes.
Summary: Based off of this: a superhero story where the villain and the superhero are roommates and they keep making excuses to each other about why they are out all the time and they stitch each other up after battles but neither has any idea that the other is their nemesis and they keep on having to lie to each other why they are covered in scratches and bruises. (Modern-Day Alternate Universe Drabble Series)
Thought since I usually draw SU art, I’d draw some Pug Davis art for a change. I pretty much read it cover to cover the night I got home with my own copy. It was so riveting I just couldn’t put it down.
People could be very unforgiving. Memories, hasty. Colours, divisive.
She’d worn green. Of course she had. She’d also pointed out the stupidity of it all. The maths had been quite simple: one life versus three hundred, maybe more. Pure unbridled logic that had made everyone turn and look at her aghast.
(She’d also been scared, but fear isn’t something she’s allowed herself the luxury of feeling any time in the past fourteen years.)
She’d gone on the run, like the rest of them - all of them clad in green.
Funny, isn’t it, how they forgave them all so quickly? Draco, sitting in the lap of luxury, still playing at being a gentleman of leisure. Blaise with a cushy job in the Medici Bank, Venice. Theodore, Adrian and Daphne with a bloody island of their own - and there were the rumours, of Theodore ending his exile and returning to England. Millicent and Corvus - all right, Corvus was an honorary Slytherin - happily mingling in the German Ministry.
But Pansy - yes, that was her name, wasn’t it? She can’t quite remember now - poor little Pansy, had had none of their luck. The eternal struggle of a friendless girl, with no men to save her. Boys could sulk around, play the role of martyr: persecuted and heroically struggling in the face of difficulty. Girls with boys so artfully posed too, escaped the dread axe. But Draco was selfish and so she’d run. Albania. Bulgaria. Romania. Ukraine. Now Russia.
Well, not entirely friendless. Andrei Vakhashivili had been most interested.
(Never mind the age difference. Girls like her, pug-faced bitches, had no time to think about age differences. Not that age mattered when one was deathless.)
She wore green. She was a survivor.
And here she was, preparing to lose her soul one last time; blood in her veins running blue and heart turned to ice.
Because even if she’d wanted to return, she couldn’t. Past the point of no return, as cliched as that sounded. She was no longer part of their world; but maybe, just maybe, she could find her place here, with liars and thieves and murderers. People who’d forgotten themselves and consequently, unquestioningly take care of their own.
What could a girl do except find a place to belong, a people to call her own, who’d come for her when she called?
She allows herself precisely five minutes of mourning - for Draco, for Blaise, for Crabbe and Goyle, for mum and papa (still vainly hoping that one day their little girl would return), for the unnamed dead, for home, for innocence - for a now unnamed pug-faced girl.
Then, she forces herself to forget, forever.
She is a Winter’s child and the Winter is all she knows.