a box of scraps


Eliza always leaves lovely notes in the kid’s lunch boxes when they go to school, just little scraps of paper that say like ‘I love you!’ or ‘Have a good day!’ or something so they get a little boost through the day. She never, ever forgets.

Until the day that she’s sick and Alex has to make the kids’ lunches instead. And then they open their packs at school and there’s just a whole essay in there, like five pages at least for each kid detailing why they’re great and why he loves them.

“What? I got carried away.”

So I’m moving for the new job, either to NJ or to MA in you, know like .. FOUR TO FIVE MONTHS, and now all I want to do is to clean ALL THE THINGS and to start packing to make it as real as possible.

Take one thing you would otherwise throw away today and add it to your art journal.
  • gum/candy wrappers
  • produce stickers
  • images or text from larger food packaging (cereal or cracker boxes, etc.)
  • purchase receipts
  • library receipts
  • junk mail
  • tea tags/strings
  • movie ticket stubs
  • cut a scrap of fabric from an article of clothing you’re tossing
  • bottle/can labels
  • pop/soup can tabs
  • broken rubber bands/hair ties

Successfully tackled the death corner!! All done in 1 30/10. Yarn has been stored properly, all the things that still need to hang have been stacked (neatly) while i await painting, and the scrap box has a lid! Not pictured: the literal dump that is the rest of my room 😷😷 but it’s got the garbage that was in this corner, so i’m probably exaggerating 😅

y'all have you ever thought about the fact Anthony Edward Stark is a fucking genius.
g e n i u s. this boy hacked the Pentagon more than once as a teen. he graduated MIT age seventeen. I repeat, this boy had a degree before most people hit college.

he miniaturised an arc reactor in a cave with a box of scraps.

listen I just have a lot of feelings about this man okay

B+T writing scrap

The other night, I organized a box of old papers that I have, and I found this scrap of a Billy+Teddy thing that I scribbled out years and years ago — back in 2012 or 2013, at the end of my college time.  I had decided that B & T would probably have finished a similar college path and also have meaningless day jobs (this was before Young Avengers Volume 2 came out), and I was definitely using the story to vocalize my feelings of being lost. 

Anyway, I hope enjoy this tiny writing scrap!!!

“I could destroy the universe if I wanted to,” Billy says one night from under Teddy’s arm.  It’s almost two in the morning, but neither of them has been able to fall asleep.  Summer has been dragging on hot and humid, and their apartment doesn’t have air conditioning.

Teddy stretches, and the arm he has slung over Billy’s hip slides easily across his skin.  They’re both covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I could destroy the universe,” Billy starts again, “but I still work for minimum wage and our apartment doesn’t have air conditioning.”

Lately the heat has been creeping under Billy’s skin, making him crankier than usual.  Teddy sighs, and when the hot air of it hits him, Billy hisses in annoyance, squirming out from under his arm.  Teddy murmurs, “As it turns out, apoplyctic powers:  not the most marketable.”

“Ugh.  I bet there are loads of supervillains who would emply me, if I was evil.”

Teddy snorts.  "I’m not sure they pay that well.“

Billy considers this.  "The benefits probably suck, too.”

“Not that you’d be around to enjoy them anyway, what with the end of life as we know it.”

“Ugh,” Billy says, sinking bonelessly into the mattress.  They both lie still and tired for a moment, perfectly parallel so that they don’t touch each other.  The only sounds in the room are the hum of the ceiling fan and the distant city noises that drift in through the open window.

Teddy waits.

“Okay,” Billy finally says, “but even aside from the superpowers, we are two perfectly able recent college graduates.”

“I like to think so,” Teddy agrees.

“What are we doing with ourselves, Ted?”

Teddy turns to look at Billy and finds him staring back, the light from the streetlamp coming in to stripe across one eye.  It gives Billy a strange, fractured appearance.  Teddy reaches over and rubs Billy’s cheekbone with his thumb, as if the touch can settle him.  These moods are never good when Billy gets caught too deep in them; better to catch them at their start.

“We’re doing whatever we want to be doing,” he says, knowing even as he says it that it’s not a good answer.  He also knows exactly what Billy’s going to say.

“Which is …?” Billy asks.  "Working bad jobs and living in an apartment without goddamn air conditioning?  Doing that for the foreseeable future?“

further pokemon au shenanigans

Dave: so you know how any pokemon with wings can learn fly and carry you around no matter how small they are

John: yeah…

Dave: what if i taped my fletchling to a skateboard and got unreal air over the whole region

John: …

John: i dare you.

*two hours later*


The Special Bequest of Francis Douce

Francis Douce was a wealthy Englishman whose hobby was to collect various antiques, especially rare children’s books, games, artwork, coins, and manuscripts. Douce had an extensive collection, when he died in 1834 he donated most of it Bodleain Library, including 15,000 books, 50,000 prints and drawings, and a large collection of coins.  However, in his will he left a strongbox containing his letters and correspondence, manuscripts, books, essays, diaries, and various other papers of rarity and importance to the British Museum on the stipulation that it not be opened until after 66 years.  The strange bequest stirred up many rumors as to what precisely could be inside the box. What secrets could lie within? Unfortunately speculation would have to go unquenched as the British Museum dutifully obeyed his request.

On January 1st, 1900 the British Museum opened the box with the entire board of trustees in attendance. Inside the box were pieces of scrap paper, torn book covers, and various other pieces of worthless trash. Also inside the box was a letter by Douce to the board of trustees, in which he explained that in his opinion, it would be a waste to leave anything of greater value to the philistines at the British Museum.

Friends on the Other Side || Closed

Supernatural a had always been a part of the world. They were human, or they were originally. But it was only in recent decades that the segregation had begun. Humans began to hate supernaturals.

Marinette didn’t understand it. They were all the same at the core. She set down her book and walked downstairs.

“Oh there you are sweetheart.” Sabine smiled when her daughter entered the bakery. “Could you take that box of scraps out to the trash in the alleyway?”

“Yes mama.” She grabbed the box and headed to the alley. The door closed and she moved toward the dumpster. The girl stopped when she heard a noise in the darkness. “H-Hello? Who’s there?” She demanded, taking a few steps back.


pietro sharing his music with kurt tho

  • pietro writes songs he hears down on scraps of paper when he’s out all the time so he won’t forget them
  • once he knows he can remember, he puts them in a box
  • he makes kurt pick out out of the box every time they hang out
  • kurt gets a couple of scraps of paper a week and they’re always the highlight of the day
  • eventually, pietro’s just like, what the hell, i’ll just lend him my favorite tape
  • it goes on like that until one day pietro just gives kurt a walkman. he said it was one he never used that was lying around, but it was brand new, he’d just bought it
  • kurt sort of guesses that
  • just the cutest thing ok pietro always feels great when he sees kurt using it

if bethesda games r so good then why does nobody (as in AN ACTUAL FAN COMMUNITY) talk about (as in ANALYZE AND DISCUSS) them a year after release with the sole exceptions of morrowind (pre-zenimax bethesda) and new vegas (You Know It’s Bethesda Because It Says It On The Label)

like… since zenimax they have had infinite money and time and 4 chances to make amazing games and have come back with shallow garbage every time

“nyehh they’re not that bad nyehhh” yeah if you spend $100mil and 6 years on your game it’s probably at least mildly entertaining, meanwhile obsidian made NV in a cave with a box of scraps and it’s a strong contender for the best RPG of the past 10 years

edit: hey assholes when i said “talk about” i meant actually discuss and analyze the story and worldbuilding in these RPG games. people “talk about” Shrek, that doesn’t mean it has a passionate community surrounding its themes and lore, it just means a lot of people have seen Shrek.

I think I have a problem. I might have gotten obsessed with the idea of Tony & kids. Eh, it’s cool, this is fun. Enjoy <3

@knightinironarmor Last one I’m spamming you with, I swear!

I’m calling this one The Futurist And His Legacies

When Tony started out as a public persona, he learnt quite quickly that his fame stemmed from his name. He was a legacy, a heir of the rights and wrongs from the Stark culture, a back to carry the ideas for the future.

When his future took a turn for the bleak in Afghanistan, he learnt that his name was only as good as his ideas, and his ideas were only as worthy as his intentions. His belief in legacies strengthened in a dark cave with a box of scraps at his feet and a metal arc in his heart. However he would survive that darkness, he would leave a legacy worthy of the future, he decided.

The plan had a few wrenches thrown in its way with his ideas getting pushed back in favor of collective ideas from a team he was never supposed to be in. From Tony Stark to Iron Man to the Golden Avenger to Stark and finally to Tony, he transitioned ideals, names and impressions with intentions being the only common thread binding all these personas together. He thought that his future lay with the team then and redirected his ideas to grow for them.

Somewhere between being a futurist and being forced to see a perceived future, this thought changed and shattered.

The team’s dream dissolved and the ideas floated in limbo, waiting for a new channel, a new path to reach their legacy.

The discovery of that path came with a reflection for Tony. A reflection of his intentions in a 15 year old boy who had come in when Tony had thought that the present would ruin the future forever. 

In many ways, Peter was Tony’s first legacy, even though Harley would later argue its technicality.

“What would you do?” Tony asked him on an autumn noon, sipping black coffee to match the boy’s cinnamon preference.

“I -” Peter paused mid-swallow and looked between Tony and the floating holographs of coding for the latest attempt at CEASE, the pure-energy based barrier technology to counter portals of space.

Tony raised an eyebrow at the hesitance that made Peter clear his throat before he began his rant of suggestions that only grew stronger and more enthused as the young boy lost himself in the excitement of science.

Tony leaned back and watched the future take shape with the first semblance of peace - not because of the mechanics, but because of the man growing in front of him.

His role as a mentor grew carefully and with an eclectic mixture of distance and attachment to the phase where involvement of another mind was inevitable. When young Lila came to visit Rhodey at the Compound and got hooked to the latest prosthetic-supporting armor instead of the latest X-Box game on, Tony knew that he had one more responsibility to guide. Peter and Lila reminded him of a younger Tony and Rhodey bickering over physics assignments in an MIT dorm.

He never said it out loud. He kept an eye over them and gave them what they needed. Their insistent visits to the Compound made him feel that they understood.

The entry of young Cassie Lang happened with the inclusion of Hope Van Dyne in the newly formed Avengers team. Hope bore resemblance to her mother , someone Tony had learnt about from old SHIELD files,  in both spirit and looks and got along with Carol Danvers like a house on fire. Maybe it was the strength of will, maybe it was the will of change - whatever it was, they helped rebuild a dream that Tony had once tried saving. During one of her visits, Hope brought in a brunette woman and a young girl with curious eyes and a familiar air. Tony learnt of Cassandra ‘Cassie’ Lang from her mother and watched as the young dynamite observed the Compound with a look of interest. 

He offered her one of the Iron Man merchandise toys to play with. She had no qualms about calling it ugly. It was only when she introduced him to a really ugly bunny toy that he understood that the girl could see the good in what the world saw as ugly, something he knew took decades for people to accept. Tony saw as she became fast friends with Friday and in turn was forced to meet and greet Cassie’s dad’s AI, JOEY. 

Tony found the answer to a question he had asked Scott Lang through Cassie. Who was Scott? The father of a beautiful future. This realization made it easier for Tony to become friends with the Ant Man when he came back from a ‘vacation’ in hiding.

Harley’s return was accidental and in most ways not happy. The young boy’s hands clenched on his younger sister’s shoulder as Tony read the letter a deceased mother had written him, in hopes that he would make the right choice. Death made people bitter - this was a fact Tony was intimately familiar with. Death of a parent changed people - this was a reality Tony had lived. 

Rhodey asked him if he was going to adopt the young genius. Tony remarked quietly and with a wry grin that it would probably be the other way around.

Harley and Lila made a workshop of a basement whenever they got together. Tony would laugh when they would team up against Rhodey in mechanics challenges, and would inevitably end up teaming with Rhodey to match the number. Peter would drop in more often and Tony didn’t comment on the transition Peter had made from asking suggestions to giving them freely. Cassie would drop in with demands to tinker with the bots and ‘play’ with Friday, a routine that expanded when Harley’s sister Maine joined in.

Kamala came in through Carol, a girl with a dream of hope and change. Tony saw a burning idealism in her and watched Carol be the role model she deserved. When he caught her looking at him for the same, he turned introspective, trying to be a better person for the expectation he saw in her eyes. She tempered his anxiety with realism and he gave her focus for her foundations.

It was Kamala who herded them and pushed them to the bi-weekly lunch dates, which Peter always came late to and Cassie always dragged a new scary toy to. When he caught sight of Peter taking his first sip of black coffee during one lunch, he waggled his eyebrows at Rhodey who laughed himself hoarse when Peter promptly gagged and swore loudly that the concoction was the devil’s stuff.

It grew in bits and pieces, the parts of Tony that he left within these people. These people who would become the future, who would write destinies Tony had only dreamed of. When Riri came along, with her bright eyes, brighter mind and strong convictions, Tony knew that he had chosen right.

For legacies were not in the name of a man or the fame of an image. Legacies were in the minds of a generation who took a genius’ ideals with the same respect as his ideas, who took a knight’s heart from his armor’s facade and built their own stories from it.

Tony Stark had been raised to believe in the future, and live up to his name. He grew to believe in people and live beyond his fame.

In the end, the legacies of a futurist built the future he had lived for and that was all he had dreamed of.

This came out so bad, but I like the base idea. I hope you read it <3 


- “if my math is right – and it always is”
- “handles like a dream”
- “TONY STARK WAS ABLE TO BUILD THIS IN A CAVE! WITH A BOX OF SCRAPS!” / “sorry, i’m not tony stark”
- [synthesizes new element after building a particle accelerator in his basement in the space of like one afternoon] “that was easy”
- “you can’t afford me”
- “there’s no throne. there’s no version of this where you come out on top. now maybe your army comes and maybe it’s too much for us, but it’s all on you. because if we can’t protect the earth, you can be damn well sure we’ll avenge it”

The Scrap Book (With Pictures)

“Hey baby.” I smiled when Vic walked into the bedroom after putting our daughter to bed. “Hey.” he yawned tiredly, “I made you something.” he perked up “You did?” I nodded and handed him a box. “Am I forgetting something? I mean I think our anniversary isn’t till July and your birthday is in November….” I giggled “No I just had free time and thought you’d like it.” Vic smiled and opened the box. “You made me a scrap book?”

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((Yes! Happy Holidays!! I just want to thank everyone for dealing with my shenanigans as Kaworu, and for those who found enjoyment through my other silly stuff (edits, comics, doodles, etc…). It’s been a lot of fun for me! So yes, thank you all and I wish everyone a Merry Christmas! edit: tumblr ruined the quality and im too lazy to fix it >_<))