So what am I? The butt of the joke?
Scout didn't like coming to Medic's office. He didn't like being around him, he didn't like talking to him, and he sure as hell didn't like having to get patched up by him. The old man pried too much into his life, talked too much, and a million other things Scout could list off that would take up an entire day. Something about Medic just boiled Scout's blood, and he didn't even seem to realize it.
Scout hissed through his teeth as Medic pressed a peroxide-soaked cotton swab to his busted knuckles, clenching his jaw and other fist, nails digging into his palm. "You said it'd only sting a little," Scout hissed through gritted teeth, furiously glaring at Medic.
"Oh, don't be such a baby," Medic said with a roll of his eyes, placing the cotton swab onto the sterile tray where the rest of his medical instruments lay. Scout warily eyed the needle as Medic wiped it down with a sterile alcohol pad, pulling nylon thread through the eye. "Now, zis will pinch a little, so try to be still, ja?"
Scout fought the urge to whine and complain as Medic began to slowly stitch up his knuckles, pulling the wounds closed cleanly and with extreme precision. As much as Scout hated it, Medic was extremely good at his job, though he'd never tell anyone that.
"Zere." Medic snipped the thread, wrapping gauze around Scout's knuckles. "Zat wasn't so bad, ja? And you can even take a lutscher since you didn't whine!" Medic grins gleefully, pointing at a mug filled with various colorful suckers and lollipops.
"I'm not a damn baby," Scout snapped, sliding off the table, snatching a sucker from the mug with a scowl. He wasn't going to turn down free candy, that'd just be stupid.
"Kleines Arschloch!" Medic shouted as the doors swung shut behind Scout, his voice muffled as Scout walked further away from the lab, peeling off the plastic and putting the sucker in his mouth. It wasn't half bad.
Maybe he'd swing by Medic's lab more, just to get a sucker every now and then.
"Ah, Scout!" Medic clasped his hands together, smiling widely as Scout poked his head through the swinging doors of Medic's lab. It was odd, seeing the doctor so... excited to see him. It was almost unsettling, seeing him so happy. "I was hoping you'd swing by!"
"...you were?" Scout hesitantly let the doors swing shut behind him, the action feeling like he was signing the warrant for his death. What the hell had he just gotten himself into?
"Ja, ja!" Medic waved Scout over, turning to his desk. "I vas vondering, I've been taking ze team's DNA samples, and-"
"You've what?"
"Shush!" Medic glared at Scout, mouth pulling into a scowl as he continued. "As I was saying, I've been taking ze team's DNA samples, and you mentioned not knowing your father, ja?"
Scout's brow furrowed. His dad? What the hell did that deadbeat piece of shit have to do with anything?
"Vell, if you'll give me a sample of your DNA, I can find out who it is!" Medic seemed... a little too excited about the prospect, like there was an ulterior motive he had in mind, but... Scout couldn't think of one.
"And you promise no funny business?" Scout frowned, eyes trained on Medic, searching for any sign that he had an ulterior and nefarious motive.
"Promise, promise!" Medic gleefully handed Scout a small tube. "Just spit in ze tube, and I vill take care of ze rest!"
"Hey doc." The doors to Medic's lab swung open and closed, a noise Scout was starting to become familiar with. He wouldn't admit it, not even with a gun pointed to his head, but he was starting to enjoy Medic's company. "You, uh... y'said you wanted to see me?"
"Ja, ja!" Medic turned around with a wide grin, a stack of papers held tightly in his hand. "Ze DNA results are in! Oh, I should tell you, ve made bets on vho it vould be." Medic laughed, continuing before Scout could even interject. "Anyvay, ze results confirm zat Spy is your biological fazer!"
Scout paused for a moment. Bets? Confirmation? Spy?!?
"Woah, woah woah WOAH!" Scout held his hands in the air, staring at Medic with a horrified and confused expression. "You made bets on who my dad was?"
Medic shrugged, nonchalantly nodding as if it were as normal as drinking water. "Ja, most of ze team zought zat Spy was your fazer."
Medic pauses for a moment, his face falling and turning into one of abject horror. "Oh. Did you... not know zat?"
"My dad's Spy!? And you made bets on it!?"
Scout... didn't know why it bothered him that the team had made bets on who his father was without even bothering to tell him first. Sure, he'd always had his suspicions about Spy, but it hadn't occurred to him that his suspicions went beyond speculation.
No, no, it couldn't be true. It couldn't. There was no way Spy was his dad, no way in hell. This was all just some cruel joke that he was the butt off.
"Very funny, doc," Scout snapped, jaw clenched. "Where's the real results."
Medic paused, staring at Scout blankly. "...zey are ze real results, Scout."
...
......
No.
No, it wasn't true.
It couldn't be.
This was all a joke, a joke that he was the butt of. He was always the butt of the joke. That was all it was.
A joke.
Just a joke.
14 notes
·
View notes
So im writing this bc I wouldnt be so sure about that,that somebody named zoink could verify fricking quaking tidal wave its so hard even cursed the 0.9× hitbox Multiplier user don't can do that💀some useless facts about me:
I'm so old like the dinosaurs 🦕
And gd is love gd is life gd is eat
My hobbies r drawing yt and insta roasts
I love to use tumblr
@asteriax63 husti is a lutscher (joke):3
2 notes
·
View notes
Mai 2023
Ach, freu ich mich auf die kälteren Tage. Mit so richtigem Regenschirm-Dreckswetter für die Freunde des Abenteuers.
Sommer- und Grillwetter ist was für Lutscher. Mir tun die Bewohner von wärmeren oder gar tropischen Gegenden richtiggehend leid. Nie mal die Gelegenheit haben, einen richtig schönen Wintermantel zu tragen. Alles verfault und verschimmelt dir unter den Händen.
Sogar Objektive werden von irgendwelchen Glaspilzen befallen, die sich auf die Beschichtung spezialisiert haben. Fragt man sich, wovon solche Organismen gelebt haben, bevor Carl-Zeiss die entsprechende Technik entwickelt hat, die sich deutsch "Vergütung", auf sächsisch "Multi-Coating" nennt.
Wahrscheinlich haben sie die Glasaugen von ausgestopften Marderhunden besiedelt. Im Gruselkabinett unseres Virus-Alleinherrschers Drosten und seiner Vorgänger.
Sag einmal laut "die Wissenschaft." Es gibt nur die eine. Und nur den einen, der sie vertritt, hier unten auf Erden.
0 notes