accounting machines

anonymous asked:

Your sidebar says that you're taking prompts!!! I'm so excited!! Can you write a Tony Stark after Civil War story? He's got no one now (except for Rhodey, god bless him), and he has to face the Rouge Avengers for some reason (maybe a pardon for them?), and they are incredibly mean to him. They snap at him, yell at him, treat him like shit. All of them. Rhodey puts an end to it when Tony can't handle it anymore and REALLY starts crying.

So far, the entire meeting has been a mess of Tony white-knuckling it through to the end and wishing for a drink he won’t have.

It’s the first time he’s had to talk to them personally, face-to-face. They’ve been in contact through intermediaries for six months now, but as the de-facto head of the Avengers, Tony has to be there for kicking off this process of re-instating them. No one asked his opinion on that, which is probably a good thing.

He’s held his tongue and kept the meeting going. Professional, calm. Cool. Concerned about the fate of the world.

Tony can take a few hits where they matter.

But it’s not easy. Maybe it’s being a year out of practice of taking said hits. Going soft, his new team around him. Maybe it’s the stress.

“Alright, but signing is a non-negotiable part of this deal,” Tony points out. “We can talk more amendments if that’s on your mind, but the fact of the matter is that the UN doesn’t trust your team without a signature saying you’ll play by the rules. It’s non-optional.”

“Because Stark always gets his way, right? Even if he has to break up a team, chase people out of their goddamn home, threaten to lock them up, and brow-beat them into it first.”

Tony blinks, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and continues. “You can take that up with the UN, I suppose. As far as your equipment–”

“That you stole–”

That I built, Tony wants to scream, hundreds of hours of sweat and tears and sometimes literal blood going into equipment they misused, didn’t appreciate. Certainly didn’t appreciate the creator.

The next breath is shakier. “They’re prepared to offer you loans of it once your name hits the page, and–”

“That belongs to us.”

“It doesn’t,” Rhodey says, speaking up for the first time in several minutes. He pushes himself to stand, a slow, laborious process. “It belongs to its creator, who lost sleep over it, gave up his own time and money to build it. Who you’ve disrespected again and again, and if it were up to me, I’m letting you know we wouldn’t be having these talks now. Unfortunately I don’t control the universe and have to contend with what’s coming. Now. We’re calling a break. See you tomorrow.”

Rhodey strong-arms Tony out of the room, no small feat considering he insisted on wearing his braces despite the fact that they still need a lot of work. Still, Tony goes willingly enough, more out of shock than anything else. Numbness.

“You okay, Tones?”

“No,” Tony says honestly. His therapist would be proud to hear the honesty, but if there’s anyone who will allow it, it’s Rhodey. Always, Rhodey.

“Yeah, no shit. Dumb question. What can I do?”

“Just…wait it out with me.”

Someone pulls a car around for them and Rhodey puts up the privacy partition right away, then opens his arms. “C'mere.”

Tony’s breath is shallow and broken, shuddering. “Christ,” he mumbles.


Tony wants to laugh but it sounds too wet, too broken. Rhodey squeezes him.

“I can go back and yell at them.”

“The universe doesn’t bow to our whims.”

“That mean no yelling?”

“Unfortunately.” Tony holds for a moment. “At least not until this is done.”

“I’ll save it up then. Make it a good one.”

Tony does manage to laugh a bit that time.

anonymous asked:

*His pupils roll across his skull as his tolerance began to run short. Joey closes his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose to remove some of the tension* Bendy. *He firmly spoke, one of his eyes opening to stare down at the clearly pissed off demon* In through one ear and out the other as usual, repeating yourself to expect results. This is all typical behavior from you.

although i wanted to wait for chapter 2 to come out, would anyone mind reblogging this so this little devil boy could get around?))

a mostly ask and roleplay blog from bendy from bendy and the ink machine!))

I’m currently making a group pic of all the BatIM and Cuphead blogs I follow,
So my question to all of you,
Would you mind if I added you to the

kadda252  asked:

For the prompt thing, pretty please 10 or 29 or both in one ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿป๐Ÿ™๐Ÿป

This is kind of the opposite of what I wrote yesterday. So here be fluff and nothing but fluff. It’s a sequel to this (sappy) prompt. But you can read it on its own as well. Thank you for the prompt! 

10. “I can never unsee that.” + 29. “Y-you love me?”

When Mulder finds himself in the car en route to Mrs. Scully’s house, he is not sure when it happened.

Or how.

But here he is, in the passenger seat, forced to listen to classical music that’s supposed to be calming. That’s what Scully told him 20 minutes ago, anyway. She’s quiet, tapping along on the steering wheel while Mulder keeps trying to come up with something clever to say. Or really anything. He has questions, plenty of them, but he doesn’t ask any of them. Why am I here, Scully? He would like to know. Why do I have to see your brother twice in one day? Mulder grows agitated just thinking about it.

Why did you kiss me earlier, Scully? That’s the one he really wants to know about.

In good old Mulder and Scully fashion, they haven’t talked about it. The kiss. It’s been hours and Scully hasn’t mentioned it once. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it never happened. Just a figment of his vast imagination. He’s imagined kissing Scully a million times over the years. But no; it definitely happened. Her hands were on his thighs, he can almost feel them still, and her lips grazed his oh so softly. Oh yeah. It happened.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Scully says in between songs. As if the music should not be interrupted.

“I thought you wanted me to shut up.”

“That was… earlier.” Mulder thinks he sees her blush.

“Yeah well, I didn’t know when you wanted me to stop.” Mulder cracks open a sunflower seed, realizing how hungry he is. With her kissing him and then convincing him to go with her to her mother’s made him forget everything else. Like having lunch.

“About the time I – never mind.” The kiss, he thinks, suppressing a smile. She certainly shut him up with that.

“You mean the… you know.” Here he is complaining that Scully doesn’t mention their foray into new, more intimate territory and he finds himself shying away as well.  

“It wasn’t fun, Mulder.” Oh.

“I’m sorry, Scully, I didn't… you started it. I just – then why did you ask me to come with you to your mother’s? If I’m no fun.” Mulder sounds bitter; he tries not to, but what can he do? He’s been wanting to kiss Scully for ages and when they finally do, she hates it.

“That’s why,” she tells him, her voice even, her eyes on the road, “You made fun of me. You know I thought you had something important to tell me and you let me believe it, Mulder.” Oh, again. She wasn’t talking about the kiss at all.

“Scully, I’m sorry. Your brother unnerves me,” he sees her nod in agreement, “He said all these things and then when you finally showed up at the office I felt like… I just wanted you to know there was something to come back to. As stupid as it was.”

“An espresso machine in accounting.”

“I realize it wasn’t my brightest moment, Scully, but I had to say something.”

“But do you realize that I hurried through lunch with my brother because I thought something important was going on?”

“I’m sorry, Scully. What else can I say?”

“Next time your exciting news turn out to be about kitchen appliances, tell me right away and don’t make it a secret.”

“In my defense,” Scully shoots him a look and Mulder ignores it, “I never said it was exciting. I didn’t keep it a secret either. So that’s why I’m here? As punishment?”

“Partly,” she admits.


“And what?”

“What’s the other reason?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Scully chuckles and Mulder adds it to his long, long list of things they, apparently, don’t talk about.


Mulder doesn’t know what he expected, but it’s not this. This is not, as Scully assured him earlier, a small family gathering. This is dozens of people running around Mrs. Scully’s house.

“Oh Dana, you made it!” A woman, who is almost as tall as Mulder, hugs Scully tightly.

“Mom made me promise.” She replies with a soft smile. If only she would smile like this more often.

“And who is this nice young man, Dana?”

“This is Fox Mulder. My partner,” she startles, “my friend,” Scully turns to him, searching for the right word, “my work…” She trails off with a confused hand gesture.

“Oh Fox,” the large woman shakes his hand heartily, a huge grin on her face, “Maggie told us so much about you. She didn’t say you were coming today!”

“Ah yes, I cleared my schedule for this,” Mulder puts on what he hopes is a charming smile, and judging from the woman’s face it works well enough, and sighs, “I wanted to be here.”

“That’s so lovely, Fox. I’m Dana’s aunt, Millicent.” She’s still holding his hand, he realizes. “Now, go say hello to everyone else. I hope I’ll see you around, Fox.” Aunt Millicent winks at him and Mulder blushes. When she’s out of sight, Scully sighs audibly.

“So I’m your work, huh?” Mulder bumps her shoulder playfully.

“Oh shut up, Mulder. You know what I meant.” Scully doesn’t look at him, instead she seems to look for someone else among all these small and not so small heads. There’s a whirlwind of noises and voices surrounding them.

“Do I?” Scully glances up at him, brows furrowed. Her mouth opens to say something when a loud, distinctively male voice chimes:

“Is that Dana?” In a quick movement, Scully grabs Mulder’s coat sleeve and drags him with her right into a room he’s never seen before. It’s dark, it’s small and for the moment, surprisingly quiet. It could be a coat closet, he thinks, as a soft fabric brushes against him.  

“Scully what-” She puts her finger on his lips to quiet him. Not as effective as her earlier mode of shutting him up, but it works. He’s not going to complain that she’s touching him. Her finger is warm, it’s soft, and he just can’t help himself; he kisses it. Scully’s eyes open wide, but she doesn’t take her finger away, and so he kisses it again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Mulder.” Her angry whisper shocks him, but even if he knew what to say, he couldn’t. Scully’s lips find his again and this time he makes sure she’s not cutting their kiss short. His arms tighten around her and hold her close. She moans into his open mouth as one of his hands wanders up her spine.

“Why would they – Dana! And Fox!” The door opens and their mouths separate with a loud smack. Their arms still around each other they stare into the faces of Scully’s mother, her brother and man Mulder doesn’t know. Oh well.

“I can never unsee that.” Bill Scully mumbles shaking his head in disbelief.

“Why are you hiding in here?” Maggie Scully, a laugh in her voice, opens the door wider so they can step out. Mulder tries to secretly wipe at his mouth, but the nameless guy watches him intently. As does Bill.

“Bill wanted to introduce you to his Navy friend.” Now it’s Mulder who eyes the other man warily. This is the guy Bill Scully told him about earlier in his office. On his turf. This, he figures, is neutral ground. Not to mention that he just kissed Scully for the second time in one day. That should count for something.

“This is Frank,” the blond stranger waves awkwardly, uncertain if he should shake Scully’s hand, “My friend I told you about earlier.” Bill finishes, his eyes full engaged in a glaring match with his sister. For once Mulder is glad to not be at the receiving end of that death stare.

“And what did I tell you?” Her voice sounds like pure ice.

“I’m just asking you to meet him. You don’t have to marry him.” Bill glances at Mulder, who briefly considers hiding behind Scully or even her mother.

“I’m not interested,” she tells him, “Sorry, Frank.” The man blushes furiously.

“It’s because of him, isn’t it? I mean what you just did…”

“Bill.” His mother’s voice warns him.

“That’s none of your business.”

“He has nothing to offer you, Dana!”

“Bill, leave your sister and Fox alone. Now come on, all of you. We’ve got a house full of people. Behave yourselves.” Mulder watches as Scully raises her eyebrow as if challenging her brother and of course, he bites.

“What is it about him, Dana? He doesn’t love you.”

“Hey,” it’s the last straw and Mulder can no longer keep quiet, “I do love your sister. I love her more than I could ever put into words.”

“Y-you love me?” Out of the corner of his eye Mulder sees Mrs. Scully lead her son and the ominous Frank away. Not that Mulder still cares. His eyes are on Scully, and hers are on him. Right now, in a house full of people, they’re the only two that matter.

“Scully, I am not drunk,” he begins, his voice slightly wavering, “I am not drugged either. I am just me and I am in full capacity of my sanity,” Scully’s eyebrow rises, “as much as is left of it anyway. So let me tell you that yes, I love you. I am in love with you.”

“That’s really nice,” Scully tells him and it’s only now that he notices how close they are once again; like magnets drawn to each, he figures, “Because you know what?”


“I love you, too.”

No more words are needed and so he kisses her again and again and again.

You know, I was thinking about Tony Stark and therapy this morning, and under what conditions he would consent to go.

And it’s entirely possible he went to therapy after Ultron and before Civil War, I could see that, but I could also totally not see that.

So I could see the first time Tony seriously tries therapy being after Civil War, because he has so many feelings, the world fell apart and his mom was murdered and he was lied to and, not the least of them by any means, his best friend can’t walk and he probably blames himself.

But he can’t burden Rhodey with that. Not like he feels like he can’t, but he literally can’t, because it’s kind of a dick move to take up Rhodey’s space to process and grieve his own legs and life with Tony’s own thoughts.

This is what they mean when they say never rely on just one person to keep you going, Tony realizes. Pepper’s gone, and she’d listen but it’s awkward and it wouldn’t help either of them. Happy works for Pepper now. None of them team is an option, if they ever were. JARVIS is gone and neither Vision nor FRIDAY are adequate replacements, relationship-wise. Parker’s a kid, a good kid, but a kid nonetheless, and he idolizes Tony a bit, clearly he’s not good material for confiding things in.

So Tony gets a therapist, because he has to let these emotions out somehow, so he can be there for Rhodey without burdening Rhodey with his own problems until/unless Rhodey’s ready for that.

And consequently, when the team meets up again in Infinity Wars, Tony Stark is probably the most emotionally healthy he’s ever been in his whole life, he has coping strategies and belief in his self worth, they try to tell him that it’s his fault things went the way they did and he won’t have it because he does not have to take that.

Tony unintentionally becoming emotionally healthy while trying to be a good person and treat his friend right, not for himself, seems like the most Tony thing I could possibly think of.

broken-bendy  asked:

Thanks but .... The Creator might get rid of you just l-l-like err I can't

We all have out ways to fight, Gaara’s sand, Sasuke’s abilities, and Jackson’s speed, and i…well, i can say that i am skilled with Distance and Magic Resistance! But…it’s fine if you don’t want to speak about it *he smiles* although, if anytime you need our help, don’t hesitate!

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Rhodey finds out exactly what happened to Tony in Siberia. Maybe gets to punch Steve in the face over it. Lots of Tony/Rhodey cuddling.

(No face punching happens, because I couldn’t work Steve into the fic. It’s just Tony and Rhodey. Also rather Rhodey/Tony leaning, although you could read it as gen if you wanted to).

Tony comes to visit him and he looks broken.

Not just his bruises and cuts, because Rhodey’s seen his best friend banged up before. No, it’s the look in his eyes. Flat. Destroyed.

He’d worn that look when he and Rhodey got the news from the doctor. It had then morphed into exhaustion, and then pure, simple determination that so often colors Tony’s features.

But now he’s back to this. Broken.

“What happened?” he demands. He hates the angle, hates lying on his back only slightly propped up by the hospital bed. Hates how he can’t feel his legs, hates how trapped he feels, here, when Tony is there, broken.

Tony tells him everything. His voice is flat, monotone, listless, and only breaks when he describes in careful detail the sight of Barnes murdering his mother.

Rhodey never got to meet Maria Stark. She never came to MIT and he never went to New York to visit the family. Any idiot could have seen how much she meant to Tony, though.

And then there’s Roger’s lies, which probably hurt Tony worse than anything, as hard as he tries not to show it. And the fight, and then they just left him there. Like yesterday’s news. Like garbage.

Really, they are damned lucky Vision was able to get to Tony to bring him back. He could very well have died out there, forgotten and alone in a frozen Soviet bunker.

The thought turns Rhdoey’s blood to ice. He throws his sheets back, opening up space in the bed. “C'mere,” he demands.

Tony starts. “I…I…”

“Get your ass in this bed,” Rhodey says.

“Rhodey, I…” He gestures to his whole self, still a little bloody, definitely bruised.

“Hospital sheets are designed to take it.”

“Not big enough for two,” Tony says. “I might…”

“Hurt me?” Rhodey asks sardonically. “Tones, I can’t even feel it. You can’t.”

That’s not true, and they both know it. They know that a concern regarding spinal damage and loss of feeling is that Rhodey will suffer further damage and not even know it, unaware as he’s unable to feel it. Tony doesn’t call him on it, though. Instead, he shucks his shoes and coat, and climbs into bed.

“I hate them,” he whispers.

“I know,” Rhodey soothes. “Me too, a little.” He pauses. “A lot, right now.”

“I’m gonna build you legs,” Tony declares, apparently done talking about Siberia.

Rhodey sighs. “Tony…”

“No. I am,” Tony says stubbornly. “I’m…I’m Tony fucking Stark, I can build Iron Man with a box of scraps. I can build my best friend legs.”

Rhodey can’t help but smile as he repositions them, holding Tony close. Tony’s always little spoon, always fits so neatly against him. It’s a little harder, right then, without feeling or moving his legs, but he gets them there.

“How ‘bout we sleep for now?” Rhodey asks. He’s technically been sleeping recently. More like unconscious, he thinks. Still, before that, the Accords and the clusterfuck caused by Rogers meant he missed a lot of sleep. He wonders how long Tony’s gone without.

“Okay,” Tony agrees, yawning, exhausted. He curls closer to Rhodey, puts his hand on Rhodey’s arm, gripping lightly, and then lets his eyes close.

Rhodey frowns, rubs his face against Tony’s hair once–and it could really use a wash, he thinks–then lets his own eyes drift closed.

Things look like shit right now. They’ll look like shit in the morning too, Rhodey thinks. But at least they’ll wake up together. That always makes things just that little bit brighter.

High Efficiency Horoscopes

Astrologers are quick to point out that their field of study is, in fact, firmly based in science: the planets really do have a gravitational effect on Earth. Jupiter, for instance, exerts a gravitational pull on your body roughly equivalent to that of your neighbor’s washing machine. This is why all the best astrologers are sure to account for local washing machine deliveries when writing up their weekly horoscopes, and why you will routinely hear them saying things like “There’s a Maytag in the twelfth house,” or “He’s a Pisces with a Kenmore ascendant.”  You’ve been assembling your own horoscopes lately, since you like to make major decisions only when the omens are favorable, and you’re trying to do it right. There’s this cute guy who works down at the coffee shop who you’ve been wanting to ask out for ages. If only your neighbors would hurry up and replace their damn washing machine, everything would be perfect.

hollywood3015  asked:

Creating a new user account on the computer instead of switching folders is probably the best and smartest thing I've ever heard. I don't know why I never thought to do this . Smh . Thank you !

You’re welcome! :) 

I know most people do perfectly well with switching out folders, but I always manage to screw it up, even if just by frustrating myself by letting the game load all the way up and then realizing that the wrong folder is in, so I have to exit out and load up again with the right one. It’s better for me to keep everything rigidly separate, even if it means a dozen user accounts on the machine. (Which it doesn’t, currently; there’s just the main one with my regular game, plus one I use for creating that doesn’t have any CC aside from what I’m currently working on and a few things for preview-pic-taking purposes, and now there’s the one for this Strangetown thing. It might take up a little more storage space on the computer doing it this way, but since I’ve got terabytes of storage on this “new” one, plus more terabytes on external drives, I’m not overly worried about storage. :)

blograte-archive-deactivated201  asked:

do you have an ao3?? if so could you rec me some good jason todd or jayroy fics... i dont have the strength to go read 50 terrible fics just to find one worth reading

yup my ao3 is stephaniebrown, and okay let’s see some of my faves

For more recs, check this post!