[Far From Home: Quentin Beck Degrading Peter]

[Far From Home: Quentin Beck degrading Peter]

Beck: So, Spider-man. Look at all the people that need you, and you can't even save them? Are you truly working hard, or hardly working?

Tony, coming out of nowhere: *starts choking Beck* Are you breathing hard, or hardly breathing?

Tony, holding Peter's hand: Alright, Petey-pie. It's time to open up.

Peter, squeezing it: Alright, okay.. Well, it all started a decade ago, when my parents died in an airplane crash.

The dentist:

Peter: *drinks all of the coffee meant for Tony, surprise hugs him and at the same time gives him a heart attack, and blows 2 of Tony's labs all in the span of one (1) afternoon*

Harley: How do you cry when your sandwich falls apart, but then be able to do this with no fear?

Tony, fighting off a forming headache: I've already fallen apart so it’s too late for him to cry about it.

Peter: Tupperware? More like tupperWHERE because where on Earth is the lid?!

Tony, seeing that Peter is holding the lid in his hand as he gestures: *sigh*

Peter: "With great power comes great responsibility."

Tony: Okay?

Peter: With my fast healing, I have the greatest duty and responsibility to know what it feels like to be stabbed by all types of knives.

Tony: PETER, NO—

Natasha: How many kinds of knives have you been stabbed with? I had the pleasure of being stabbed by 6.

Peter: Oh, so far it's only 8, Ms. Natasha Romanoff ma'am. All of them hurt really badly when the bad guys twist it though, the first time I felt like I was actually going to have my life cut short—no pun intended!

Tony calling out from the kitchen as he hides the knives: NAT, STOP ENCOURAGING HIM, AND PETER WHAT THE FUC—

Bruce who hasn't slept in 63 hours: *pops in excitedly* Hey guys, wanna test that out? We can increase the numbers and I can expand the data on you guys.

Tony, full on panicking: BRUCIE-BEAR??????

Steve talking with Peter about queer-platonic relationships: Huh. What are the limits to this relationship, then? I get that there's platonic hugs and kisses, but what sets as the boundary line?

Sam: I think if you stick a finger up my ass I don’t think its platonic no more.

Steve:

Peter:

Sam:

Steve: Why would I stick a finger up your ass?

Peter in the corner, only wanting to inform, on the verge of tears: