Peter: Honestly Speaking, I'm Probably Going To Die Early Bec

Peter: Honestly speaking, I'm probably going to die early bec—

Tony: No.

Peter: But my Parker luck—

Tony: Tell your Parker luck I said no.

Morgan, doing her homework in similes: Happiness is like rainbows! If you see one, you smile because it's so colorful! Sometimes, you get two and you get double happy!

Peter, whispering: Sometimes, you always get none even after watching so many rainy days stop and you just sit there, disappointed that no matter your effort, happiness doesn't want you and life just truly hates you.

Tony, overhearing and speed-dialing the top 10 therapists in the area:

Tony: Hey, underoos! FRIDAY told me you were confused about something and wanted to see me?

Peter, sulking: Mr. Stark, I was asked to name all the presidents today.

Tony: Oh, that's all? I'm pretty sure you already know them all though with your smarts, kiddo, or you could've just asked FRIDAY.

Peter: But Mr. Stark, I thought they already had names?

Tony:

Tony: Holy shit, is that what teachers actually mean—

mom can i please fist fight someone

i literally have no words except what the fuck

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: