fussy cat

Types as Disney Villains

NOTE: Continuation to Types as Disney Heroines where I showcased the strengths of each type. This time, I’m focusing on the downsides and what the types may look like when unhealthy or looping.

ISTP - Aloof. Vulgar. Aggressive. Cold-hearted.

Originally posted by southernretardation

“I tire of your arrogance, old man. Bow to me!”


ESTP - Possessive. Boastful. Disrespectful. Immature.

Originally posted by all-things-disney-gifs

“Were you in love with her, Beast? Did you honestly think she’d want you, when she had someone like me?”


INTP - Lazy. Untrustworthy. Awkward. Cynical.

Originally posted by disneydeviants

“He’s gotta have a weakness, because everybody’s got a weakness. I mean, for what? Pandora, it was the box thing. For the Trojans, hey, they bet on the wrong horse, okay?”


ENTP - Facetious. Moody. Noisy. Obnoxious.

Originally posted by idlestrology

“Ah, how shall I do it? Oh, I know. I’ll turn him into a flea, a harmless, little flea, and then I’ll put that flea in a box, and then I’ll put that box inside of another box, and then I’ll mail that box to myself, and when it arrives, I’ll smash it with a hammer!”

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Mantis Headcanon

She thinks Rocket is a puppy because Ego has only explained what a few Terran animals are, and so she thinks every animal with fur about Rocket’s size is a puppy. Cat? No, fussy puppy. Baby bear? Angry puppy. Opossum? Odd puppy. Ferret? Long puppy. Great Dane? No idea. Too big to be a puppy.

anonymous asked:

Hi, I was just wondering, do you have any more headcanons of the Avengers being protective of Spidey? The idea is so friggin' cute I just can't! Thanks!

This is considering 15yo MCU!Peter officially joins the Avenges and no one really questions the legality of having a teenager on the team when said teenager is a certified badass. Here we go:

  • So no one really acknowledges that it’s a thing. But it’s a Thing. Peter doesn’t even realise it’s a Thing, not consciously, because he’s oblivious, but his teammates are always just there when it gets bad, a hand pushing him back down or scooping him up or catching him at the last moment. He’s just lucky, he guesses. This is what having teammates is like.
  • But the Avengers all know it’s a Thing. The team works together like a well oiled machine. They’re always shifting to accommodate one another, so they try to be aware of where their teammates are. It’s hard, though, when half of them can fly or swing and flip around and never stay still. But it’s an unspoken agreement that someone keeps at least half an eye on Peter, not because they don’t trust him, but because that boy is reckless AF and will throw himself in front of oncoming danger if it’s the last available option and he doesn’t know his limits. He gets back up and keeps fighting, no matter how injured he is, even if he’s shot and bleeding out behind webbing!bandages, because he’s too used to fighting on the streets where not getting back up and fighting is not an option.
  • But none of them are exactly nice, ok, they’re all kind of assholes and you can bet they’re looking after Peter while being all snarky about it. Which is good, b/c Peter wouldn’t accept it if they were all nice and pitying. It’d be too weird, and besides, he’s acting like a little shit right back at them. It’s good. It’s how they work.   
  • Like: Peter gets surrounded and a guy with a machete goes to plunge it deep into the occupied teenager’s back, but an arrow takes him down. A second guy tries. Three arrows take him down. Peter looks up to the ledge of building where Clint waves a jaunty, sarcastic wave, and says, “What, you gonna take a nap mid-battle next, kid?” 
  • It’s not uncommon to see Peter being lifted up like a fussy, bleeding cat by Thor (and Peter adores Thor, adores messing with Thor, so he’ll fidget in his arms even when he’s hurt and tug his cape over the big guys shoulder as a procured blanket and Thor will scowl down at him and be like, “The young people in my realm are not so troublesome.” And Peter will stick his tongue out because he knows Thor adores him too.)
  • Natasha is vicious and will fuck you the fuck up. Like Peter goes down and then wham, there she is, throwing you with her thighs and taking you down with widow bites until she’s surrounded by piles of unconscious bodies. And Peter looks up, dazed and confused, and squints at her, and slurs, “Remind me not to get on your bad side, m’okay?”
  • Sam often catches Peter when he runs out of web or is thrown and too disorientated to catch himself. Of course, the flight back down to the ground is usually accompanied by babbling and Peter refusing to shut up and Sam is like, “I WILL drop you, don’t think I won’t.” 
  • Tony is one of the worst, because he’s so close to Peter and was one of the driving forces helping him become a fully-fledged hero. So he will come over and tug Peter to his feet and get his AI to scan Peter all over for injuries while Peter fidgets from foot to foot and whines, “I’m finnnnne, stoppp ittt, I wanna go hommmme.” And Tony is like, “….. fine.” Because he worries, ok? He worries and it’s awful because he shouldn’t be so worried like this. So it’s usually Tony that decides when Peter’s had enough. This annoys Peter, sure, but honestly? He does it right back to Tony, because you know the billionaire is just as bad and gets injured a lot.
  • The Hulk isn’t subtle at all. He and Peter are pals, ok. Pals. And he will just plant himself down in front of Peter and protect him from the oncoming spray of bullets or haul him bodily around or take him to Tony and say, “Spider hurt. Still trying to fight.” And Peter is like, “???? It was a  SCRAPPED KNEE, what IS this, are you TATTLING ON ME?!” And Tony just smirks and pats the Hulk on the shoulder. “Good work, big guy.” While Peter throws his hands in the air in righteous indignation
  • Also, the little things. When the battle has wound down and they’re all panting and collecting themselves, Tony will ask Peter how that science test he was worried about went and does he need help during upcoming midterms? And Peter is like, “Ughhhhhhh, noooooo.” But the others very seriously pitch in and it’s ridiculous. Rhodey in full suit telling Peter, “I was brilliant at modern history back in the day, I could give you some pointers?” And Clint sarcastically offers to help with art (”Clint, no, we’ve seen your stick figures.”) and Natasha just puts a steady hand on his arm and wishes him good luck. 

OOC. OKAY BUT CAN YOU GUYS IMAGINE THE FIRST TIME SATOSHI HAD TO GIVE PIKACHU A BATH. satoshi probably wearing the rubber gloves at first bc pikachu keeps shocking him and growling. satoshi not knowing how hot or cold to make it and each time he effs up pikachu hisses and scratches at him. satoshi needing help and  the entire trio of them all working to bathe him and pikachu being like a fussy cat until they finally hold him still. baths for the first few months were tough as heck for poor satoshi.

anonymous asked:

Examine Star Platinum

✨❀ I’ll write an RPG description of it/them. || Anonymous || ACCEPTING !


     YOUR best friend’s Stand. Despite knowing that neither Jotaro nor Star would ever lay a hand on you with the intent of harm, you can’t help but feel a touch intimidated when Star is around. Perhaps it’s just his sheer size and the fact that you’re a little self-conscious about your height –– you aren’t sure.

     ALL you know is that you’ve learned a lot about Jotaro just by being around his Stand, who is thankfully a LOT less private. The way he acts around you, he reminds you of a big fussy cat, or a child in need of attention. Coming from someone that could quite literally crush your head like a grape with one hand, that’s pretty damn cute. 

We all know about Karl Marx but what about his daughter Eleanor, the mother of socialist feminism?

The making of a Marx: The life of Eleanor Marx, the mother of socialist feminism

 Eleanor Marx is one of British history’s great heroes. Born in 1855 in a Soho garret to hard up German immigrant exiles, her arrival was initially a disappointment to her father. He wanted a boy. By her first birthday Eleanor had become his favourite. She was nicknamed Tussy, to rhyme, her parents said, with “pussy” not “fussy”. Cats she adored; fussy she wasn’t. She loved Shakespeare, Ibsen, both the Shelleys, good poetry, bad puns and champagne. She would be delighted to know that we can claim her as the first self-avowed champagne socialist.

S’mores

Written for the incredible @magicaldestiny who supported me through the writer’s block and the struggle. Thank you <3.

Enjoy!


“You’re ruining it.”

“I’m not ruining it! Just watch.”

“It’s going to burn.”

“It won’t burn. I know what I’m doing.”

“The last one burnt.”

Their evening had turned from dinner to drinking, from drinking to conversation, and from conversation to…this. Tipsy attempts at marshmallow roasting by use of their stove. And Hannibal was, despite his criticisms, enjoying himself immensely.

“This can’t be the traditional method.”

“Well, usually there’s a fire, and usually we’re outside…But this will work fine.”

Will twirls the marshmallow above the small fire, the yellow flames ribboning up from the stove, grazing its surface. Drunk, he finds it ridiculous, absolutely absurd, that Hannibal has never once eaten a s’more in his life. As he twists the skewer between his fingers,  rotating to expose the other side, he wonders momentarily if he’ll find as ridiculous sober…

“You’ve burned it again.”

“Dammit!”

Hannibal’s laugh fills the room, golden and bright. Just like the glow rising in Will’s cheeks as he smiles. He reloads the end of his skewer, unsteady fingers securing the marshmallow in place before placing it above the fire yet again, this time with renewed determination.

They had spoken of the change of season, and while the fireplace crackled in the background and the whiskey warmed in their bellies, what they spoke of shifted from spring, to autumn, to winter, and eventually to one of the more happy memories from Will’s childhood; camping in old, ruddy tents with his father and eating s’mores for dinner in the crisp night air.

It didn’t matter to him then if the marshmallow burnt or not.

The salvageable things from his childhood, the softer things that could be stood to look at, had been retrieved and fossilized, and possibly, if Will was honest, glossed a bit and made to shine. There was plenty he carried on his back, but these he cradled in his arms, brought to life around him.

The smell of pine and motor oil. Cheap whiskey. Starlight, and the open window through which the cold breeze rustles the curtains early in the morning. The simplistic refuge of handiwork, of tangible problems with tangible solutions. His aptitude for both solitude and silence, the dread and calm of it, that for so long he told himself was an appreciation.

Home cooked meals, woolen blankets, and canine companions. The sunlight dancing on the windowsill just above his bed.

It didn’t matter to him then if the marshmallow burnt or not.

But it matters to him now.

Will pulls away from the flames, successful. He slides the marshmallow on top of the slab of chocolate, between the blocks of graham cracker, and then squashes it together, its white innards spilling out the sides.

S’mores, ruddy old tents, and the crisp night air.

He turns around in offering, and Hannibal’s cocked eyebrow matches his skeptical grin.

“Eat,” Will commands.

“Is there a dignified way to go about this?”

Will shakes his head. “But that’s the fun of it. Try it.”

Hannibal meets his gaze, red cheeked and smiling, and takes the plate from Will.

Pine and motor oil and cheap whiskey.

Hannibal inspects it like a fussy cat who has been offered an inadequate meal. And Will watches impatiently, amused.

“Just try it!” he says with a laugh. Hannibal picks up his concoction using the least amount of fingers possible, forcing a sigh from Will, and finally he takes a bite.

Home cooked meals, woolen blankets, and canine companions.

Melted chocolate and bits of marshmallow cling to the corner of Hannibal’s mouth as he pulls away, and as he goes to wipe it away Will kisses him.

The sunlight glittering on the windowsill just above his bed.

The part of his lips while he sleeps. The sleepy, heavy sigh just before he wakes.

Long walks and dinners.

The weight of his arm slung over him. The warmth of him pressed against Will every night.

Every morning.

The ground gives way beneath him and the room disappears. The atmosphere bends only for them. Only for the precious things Will cradles in his arms. Protected. Safe.

Hannibal.

anonymous asked:

A sceanario where kageyama, bokuto, oikawa, and kuroo taking their s/o to a cat cafe for a date. Btw their s/o loves cats very much! (^-^)

Sorry this took longer than expected but nonetheless, hope you enjoyed this and thank you for requesting! (๑•͈ᴗ•͈)

Kageyama: “Tobio, that one likes you! Could you please hold it like this?” You asked your boyfriend and showed him the proper way to handle a cat. You were quite thankful that the one cat that had been deemed to be rather fussy had easily warmed up to Kageyama. Despite loving cats a whole lot, they just seem to have this aversion with you. You had tried to get the cats to play with you but they had promptly ignored you in favour of heading to your boyfriend, rubbing themselves against his legs.

“Like this?” The frown is still on his face but you didn’t mind it as much. Kageyama wasn’t exactly a huge fan of cats – he preferred dogs over cats to be quite honest – but seeing as you really loved cats, he decided your next date would be at the cat café and here you two are! Although things do not seem like they are going according to plan since the cats seemed to be heading towards him instead.

You quickly took your phone out and immediately took a few photos of Kageyama with the fussy cat. This one is simply going to be your background from now on. When Kageyama suddenly stood up, you were somewhat surprised and curious as you watch him flop beside you. Without even saying anything, Kageyama simply pulled you in to his lap and suddenly, the same fussy cat was on your lap too, purring. You glanced at your boyfriend to see him looking away – it must have taken him a lot of courage to do this and the blush on his face seemed to deepen the longer you stared at him.

You giggled as you continued to scratch the cat. “Thank you, Tobio; Love you!” You quickly pecked his lips and smiled to yourself when Kageyama simply wrapped an arm around your waist.

Bokuto: “Oh my God; this one has your eyes! So cute!” Bokuto had totally been in to the idea of having your next date at the cat café. He had known how much you loved cats and seeing as cats were also one of his favourite animals, he decided this date was going to be the best you will ever have. Bokuto lifted the cat that had been grooming itself and brought it up to your face. “See?”

You giggled and nodded your head. “I think this one is totally you, Kou,” You pointed to a cat that had the same shade of fur as Bokuto’s hair. “Aren’t you just adorable, Kou-chan?” You scratched the cat under its chin and smiled widely when it purred and licked your finger.

“I think this one reminds me of Akaashi,” Bokuto exclaimed as he pointed to a cat that – to you – had no resemblance at all to Akaashi. You laughed and shook your head before taking out your phone.

“Let’s take a photo together to commemorate this date! You hold Akaashi-kun and I’ll hold Kou-chan!” You stated and Bokuto grabbed Akaashi the cat and posed with it. Laughing, you simply held Kou-chan the cat next to your face and with little difficulty, you took a photo of all four of you. You were so going to try and convince Bokuto to get a cat next time!

Oikawa: You snicker quietly to yourself when the cats wouldn’t seem to leave your boyfriend alone at all. “____-chan, please, help me!” Oikawa tries his hardest not to flinch too much lest the cats start scratching him and he really does not feel like going to the clinic just because of the cats. “Oh my God, this one is vibrating!”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing this time, surprising the cat that had been taking a nap on your lap. It hissed at you and then jumped from your lap, walking away. “Tooru, they’re not going to attack you so don’t panic.” You held on to one of his hands and Oikawa tightened the hold he had on your fingers. “That one is purring because he likes you.” You smiled. Seeing your boyfriend who doesn’t share the same love and interest you have about cats being surrounded by cats and actually taking everything in like the man he is made him all the more adorable. 

“Thank you for bringing me here, Tooru! I know you don’t like cats that much and this just means so much to me! I love you.” You grinned at him and leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek. Oikawa smiles brightly at you despite the predicament he is in: if he gets to see that heartwarming smile every single time, Oikawa would even cross the ocean for you. Especially if it meant he’d get to see that smile.

Kuroo: You were smiling. You have been smiling since Kuroo proposed the idea of going to the cat café on your one-year anniversary. Being surrounded by the things you absolutely love was just the best feeling and no words can describe how you feel at that moment.

Kuroo had given you a necklace and after getting lunch together, the both of you headed to the cat café and Kuroo did not regret making the reservations to go see the cats. You were cooing at every single one of them and somehow quite a handful of the cats were very friendly with you – it was just a sight to see. Kuroo doesn’t have any problems with cats because when he was younger, he had his own fair share of cats too but now that you were laughing at the antics the cats were doing it was just a wonderful sight.

“Are you enjoying it?” Kuroo asks as he drapes his arm over your shoulder. You nodded your head and held on to his hand using your free hand. Kuroo laces your fingers together and pecks your cheek a few times. “I’m glad you enjoy it then!”

  • Sherlock: I miss you.
  • Molly: What? You're here every day. How can you miss me?
  • Sherlock: I-I meant I would...miss you...if you went somewhere else.
  • Molly: Um...ok.
  • Sherlock: ...
  • Sherlock: *quietly* Don't go. I'm sorry.
  • Molly: *confused* What are you talking about?
  • Sherlock: I heard you telling Mike you'd be happier elsewhere and...'I can't keep up with his demands anymore'. I know I'm difficult but if I've made you feel-
  • Molly: *chuckling* Oh, Sherlock...Toby is the one with demands. He's just a fussy cat.
  • Sherlock: ...
  • Molly: And when I said I'd be happier elsewhere, I was talking about visiting my Mum in Scotland. Her house is old and leaky; I'd rather be in the Bahamas.
  • Sherlock: *blushing* Oh.
  • Molly: *kisses his cheek* There's always something, isn't there?