The late, great tony stark trapped on an island with Cap.
The first thing to go is the contacts. 24 hours before he has to take them out, obviously. He falls into trees for 38 minutes before finally giving in and pulling out his glasses from some hidden pocket in his jacket. Steve didn’t even know he owned a pair. Steve didn’t even know he had contacts at all.
Next it’s the hair. It rains. Heavily. And after it finally stops and they both dry off, Steve turns around to see not sleek, straight bangs, but a complete m o p of curls. Tony blushes for like 2 hours and spends the rest of the day trying to pat it down or fiddle with it. Now there are no products or straighteners to help him, however, it does not work.
Ah, caffeine withdrawal. That’s a fun one for both of them.
Already at this point Cap is Shook Af let’s just bear that in mind.
Beard. Poor, finely shaped beard. Gone. Poof. All we have now is some designer scruff with streaks of gray running through it.
Talking about gray….no hair dye. Helloooo Silver fox Tony.
Also bc Jungle Survival™ let’s just say Tony gets Even More Buff from all these antics.
Steve is struggling to remain calm throughout this process.
Also okay but what the fuck tony is that an….is that an Italian accent coming through?? Since when was…what?
(He explains, later, that he’s not- but his mother was, and the babysitters she had hired when she was away were too. He’d learnt to talk whilst around them and usually he could school it down, but apparently now there is not so much constant exposure to American speech…well. Ciao.)
And when they eventually get picked up again, they do not see Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist Tony Stark. This is short-sighted curly-haired silverfox lumberjack Tony. Will not stand being fucked around. Can talk to you in soft Italian tones whilst chopping wood and Hunting for Food.
would you like some Vulture clothing designs i’ve been working on between paid work for a few weeks? would you like too many words with that? ‘cause i got u.
from top to bottom:
ceremonial outfit that might be worn by a leader or person meant to be the general center of attention. different versions of this outfit are used for weddings, funerals, festivals, ect. with different accents and such.
next three are dude, lady, dude. dudes usually wear vests while ladies go without. butch ladies will strap on a vest if they feel like it though and everyone wears those little sash-skirts. they have little hidden pockets in them. i’m all about bird pockets.
next two are outfits priestesses would wear in the holy city. priestesses, as part of their training, must go out and carve meat from the city walls for ceremonial feasts and blessings. considering the city might be technically alive, they do their best to spare it pain, singing for it as they work and coating their paws and instruments with soothing ointments. they keep the wounds they make impeccably clean by working fast and ridding themselves of all of their front feathers, slicking their other feathers down to keep them in place, and picking up any strays that fall out regardless. these feathers are burned into ash and used to make ink that is used to record the biological findings of the city. when their feathers grow back they can either choose to end their training and go out into the world or pluck themselves again and stay on as senior priestesses.
next is a fancy dancer outfit, and last pic is the only one i bothered to label/exactly what it says on the tin. babies don’t have gender specific anything, bows look cute on everyone. also, babies don’t walk on their wing paws because they’re too short and stubby. they need to learn to walk that way. they hop around on their feets until they can figure it out.
Vultures like decorating their beautiful bald heads but are also very aware that most of the food they eat horribly stains or sticks to everything. so instead of makeup or piercings they wear veils and bandannas that can be taken off and placed aside for mealtime. this is also the reason they don’t wear necklaces, gloves, or bracelets outside of dances and performances and that their babies wear rear facing items when they wear anything at all. that’s just too much dang laundry. there are not that many hours in the day. veil style differs with gender and race but they are always very sheer and males like to adorn theirs with hoops made of wood painted gold.
Vulture jewelry and beads are made out of light materials. wood, bone, knotted fabric, they don’t like anything that’ll hold them down or impede flying and they wear wedding rings but only on their wing paws. they especially like teeth for fancy times. in the olden days when they struck up their first friendships with Rabbits and Hares, one of the first things they stopped doing was using their pearlecent bones in their ceremonial pieces. but they began again when they found out that their new friends didn’t care as long as they asked permission, didn’t use skulls, and reported the found bodies. its not like that person was using them anyway. this peaceful bone trade was the first step in Lango and Vulture death ceremonies becoming intertwined as well as search and rescue attempts becoming much more successful. while Midwives can sense the living and Priests can pick up on ghosts, Vultures are the best at actually finding bodies which can then be talked to by Necromancers to find out what happened to everyone an reveal the level of risk involved in rescuing survivors.
Vultures like motifs with bones, geometric patters, bugs, and flowers. most actually associate with flower imagery more than bone imagery because the way plants absorb the dead to create new life. don’t get me wrong though, Vultures think bones are frickin’ rad.
the color pallets for their wardrobes are classically bruisey, bilely, bloody, colors but with bright cheerful patterning. they like to look nice, even if they have a few tatters and stains here and there. and they absolutely don’t wear white unless they’re rabbit funeral directors or snooty assholes.
Headcanon that the Vagabond is the physical embodiment of the ‘I’ve been disarming you for five minutes now where are you keeping these weapons’ trope. Like if he ever gets arrested or kidnapped it actually makes his captors more and more nervous as they remove weapons from him, cuz if he’s got this many they’re bound to miss something and it just makes for a really uncomfortable situation of them stressfully pulling weapons out of hidden pockets and false compartments while Ryan just stands there smiling silently
a warm winter has returned a coat with scarves, sweaters, mittens even without all these things, i’m actually not cold at all as you’re always by my side, always you’re by my side
let’s be honest, you’ve been disappointed in me before, right? that’s right, and there’s been times i was hurt by you too though just like snow melting away in a warm winter all those things have become memories, too
because there’s still so much left of this thankful heart because those things you said to me keep lingering in my ear i don’t feel cold at all today either, in this warm winter as you’re always by my side, always you’re by my side
that day, as i walked with breath white as snow scattering again and two freezing cold hands hidden safely in my pockets i never would have thought this day would come it feels as though i’m in a dream
the words ‘i’ll be back,’ such pretty words, aren’t they because it’s a goodbye that promises the day we’ll meet again just like the warm winter that has returned to me your heart is always circling by my side
because there’s still so much left of this thankful heart because those things you said to me keep lingering in my ear i don’t feel cold at all today either, in this warm winter as you’re always by my side, always you’re by my side
you know, these are words i always say like a habit, they’re words i always say i’m so thankful, that you love me as i am with all my shortcomings thanks to you, my lifetime is warm
i wanted to make sure i convey these words, ‘thank you’ i wanted to return those words you said to me i don’t feel cold at all today either, this winter i’ve spent with you as you’re always by my side, next to my side as you, you are always there by my side
* * *
i really like winter. for some reason seeing clouds of breath in the air and people bundled up thickly here and there, seeing my own self like that, i just liked it.
during the days i dreamt of music more than anything, when i would escape the mire of practice that had broken me down all day and head toward home. watching my breath scatter, i often thought how nice it would be if all the things that had settled inside of me would scatter away just as freely. at the time, rather than liking winter, i yearned for it.
i wanted to become like winter. cold and indifferent, yet free and penetrating. that kind of person.
as i grew, i worked hard to resemble the many things i yearned for. amongst them all, my desire to resemble the winter was definitely at the top.
before i started working, i had always felt that winter was cold. i’d felt it was lonely and hard to bear. a season where we feel the height of exhaustion, yet dream of hope. that was winter.
at some point, from the day my heart had developed a callous i’d come to sufficiently resemble winter, and all around me there were people who understood and sheltered me as i was.
just like that, i became winter.
more warmly than i had anticipated.
* * *
translated by @sullaem please do not edit or repost
Okay but an Endgame Clint fic where you fall for him and follow him on his journey killing crime lords. You’re in love with him, it’s just physical for him though... and then they bring his wife and family back and you’re left alone
dis clint is pretty ooc
He’s gone and done it.
At least, he knows he will.
He’ll crush your pretty little heart between his fingers.
the opera/ballet which is secretly sherlock’s favorite and he never tells john that because he doesn’t think john would enjoy it but finally john catches on and he surprises sherlock with tickets and sherlock gets a little wobbly and john kisses him and they both have a really nice time
sherlock takes john to a planetarium. they sneak in boxes of milk duds and share sticky kisses and giggle in the back and learn nothing at all.
they go to all these tiny little restaurants, little hole-in-the-wall places where sherlock knows the owner, or the cook, or the waiter, and they get forkfuls of samples brought out hot from the kitchen and sometimes tours of the kitchen or asked their opinion on the menu, and there’s always a candle, even if sometimes it’s just a tea light that john had hidden in his coat pocket
cinema. they go to a super late night showing of something that’s been out for a while so they’re the only ones in the theatre, and they get a huge bucket of popcorn with extra butter, and then talk and yell at the screen and finally when sherlock deduces they end they just slouch down in their seats and make out like teenagers.
crashing parties. weddings, corporate receptions, open houses, stag dos, whatever they can find. the game isn’t to go eat all their hor d’oeuvres, obviously, though they do, the game is to see if they can get in, to see how long they can stay, to see if they can sham their way through it. john, somehow, is better at this than sherlock, which baffles sherlock and to which john responds only, “we had very different uni experiences i think.”
museums, and this one is actually serious, which surprised sherlock at first. but john gets really into it, and he likes to read all the plaques (he takes forever) and they get into these big debates about different styles of art and the british colonial thefts and what should be done with the artifacts now, and sherlock actually ends up taking a few cases to help resolve some ownership issues and return some debated artifacts to the rightful owners when he’s able.
sherlock pulls a few favors and finally gets john up behind the face of big ben, and they slow dance to the sound of the rain on the clock face, to the sound of the clock’s machinations, to the sound of their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of their city.
and they laugh, and they kiss, and they run and chase and dare and risk and come home, and it could be fantastic or it could be mundane and it doesn’t matter what they do, not really, because they can finally do it together.
ok could you please write something on how harry'd be during an argument i need this conceptualised
“What do yeh mean yeh broke it?”
The words are icy, laced with annoyance as he reiterates them for the third time within the past couple of minutes. You’d be standing just across the bedroom, body coiling away from him as you start to realize he’s submitting himself to his temper.
It’s not a side of him you see too often, as he’s not one to get mad easily. And he doesn’t care to lose his temper with people, not with you, especially you. But right now he’s bubbling with anger, it’s obvious to you once you realize the slight bulge of the vein in his neck as he restrains from raising his voice. He doesn’t want to raise his voice at you, he doesn’t like to and he almost never does. Right now, in this moment though, he doesn’t know if he can avoid it much longer.
You’d be quiet, not sure of what to say because you fear that coming at him with a rebuttal is practically useless. He was right to be mad, and you were sure that if the roles were reversed you’d be mortified. It wasn’t intentional, you hadn’t done it on purpose and you didn’t mean to be so careless. In a few minutes, hopefully, he’d come to understand that it was an honest mistake. In this second, as he stared at you through the slits in his eyes from across the bed, he wasn’t understanding anything but the anger building within him.
“I just,” you bit back on your lip, shifting your stance uncomfortably, “it was an accident. I swear.”
“S’not…” he’d take an abrupt exhale, “it isn’t fucking turning on, (Y/N).”
A worried expression had swept across your face, permanently etched on by now as you watch him fumble with his phone a few feet away from you. In reality, it was really his own fault. You’d be itching to tell him that he should be more careful, and that you wouldn’t have put his phone through the wash cycle if he hadn’t been careless enough to leave it hidden in the back pocket of his skinnies. But there was no way you’d say that, not now, as his cheeks flushed more and more red each time he tried powering his phone back on.
Each time the screen remained the same, dark and pitch black with no sign of life, he’d suck another breath in before painfully letting it all out. After the fifth time, the phone pressed so tightly against the palm of his hand, he let his eyes shut closed before he pursed his lips. You were sure he’d lose feeling in them, because they were pursed together so tightly you could almost see the usual raspberry shade of his lips begin to fade. And his breaths were getting shaky, because everything is on that phone, and how could you have not seen his fucking phone? How could you not hear it clanking about inside the wash machine?
“What m’I supposed t’do now? Everything is on here! Fuckin’ lost it all!” His arms are flailing now, voice raising with each word.
“I’m sorry,” you’d insist, arms folding across your chest, “I didn’t think to look in your pocket! We can take it to get it fixed, right? You can do that? Put it in rice or something?”
“Put it in rice?” he’d hiss, “Yeh fuckin’ mad or somethin’? Not putting m’phone in rice.”
You’d know he’s only getting this frantic because panic is creeping in, because that phone really does have everything on it. You’d know he’s only this mad, face heating up as he let’s his voice raise, allowing his anger to overpower his ability to rationalize, because he knows he was stupid to toss his jeans into the hamper without remembering his phone. It didn’t make the fight any less real, as he continued to really give it to you.
“Yeh didn’t think! I don’t know if someone can fix this! Yeh bloody washed it in soap ’n water!” He’d bellow, hoisting the phone up as he brought his finger to his head.
The visible look of regret on your face, mixed in with a little bit of hurt feelings as he goes on scolding you as if you were a child, makes him back peddle a bit. The heat of the moment tends to get the best of him, it’s how most of your arguments usually end up getting to that: getting to arguments. He’d start to feel a little guilty, reprimanding you for something that really was just an accident. It doesn’t make him any less mad, though, because the phone is still lifeless in his hand, and he’s panicking and freaking out over all the important emails and contacts he may have lost.
So he’d take a couple deep breaths, demeanor softening just a little as he unclenches the fist at his sides. He’d be sure that his nails dug little crescents into the palms of his hand, because they usually did on the occasion where he’d get angry. He’d run a hand through his hair, tousling with it a bit before he brought it down and ran a hand of his face once or twice. Then he’d jam the phone in his pocket, eyes running over you before his tongue jutted out and swiped over his bottom lip. He’s sure you’re cross with him now, for raising his voice like that, and in all honesty he’s still angry that you just put his fucking cell phone into the washer.
“We are not goin’ t’see if someone can fix this. I’m going t’see if someone can fuckin’ fix this thing,” he’d exhale, voice coming down now, “need t’just, not be here fo’ a little while.”
And it’s for the best that he’s stepping out for a little, it’s what he tends to down when things escalate between the two of you. A little space to clear your heads is what usually puts out the fire of a fight, and you breath out a sigh of relief when you hear the slam of the front door. Because he had done a knock up job at getting you pissed off, too. And when he gets in the car, he lets his head fall against the headrest of the drivers seat, a dragged out groan of frustration eliciting itself from him before he goes off to find someone who can revive his phone.
Hello ! Can i get some scenario or some headcanons for Kuroo, Tobio and Bokuto meeting their shy!s/o for the first time and it's love at first sight please ~ !
i loved writing these, hope you enjoy! (omg kuroos is a bit cheesy asldfkjsdlgj)
Kuroo loved the rain. Mostly because it seemed to be the only thing that could flatten his bed hair. But right now, walking along the street, trying to reach the grocery store to buy himself food, he isn’t fond of it.
His hair is literally in his eyes, soaking wet, his hood giving him little protection from the rain and Kuroo makes a mental note to buy himself an umbrella, suddenly regretting giving his to Bokuto after a practice match, then being told it was broken the next day.
Kuroo finally makes it to the grocery store, shaking himself like a dog and grabbing a shopping cart, pushing it towards the cereal section. He makes sure to grab Kenma’s favorite, and Yaku’s, since the two are over at his house so often they basically live there on the weekends.
He hums to himself as he chooses food, grabbing things of shelves and idly putting them in his cart, every now and then having to brush his hair out of his eyes. He finally gets in line to pay, and just as he starts to get his wallet out from a hidden pocket inside his coat, he sees her.
Her face is half hidden from her hood, which she puts on just as the cashier gives her the change, and then she’s leaving, clutching the plastic bag to her, but not before Kuroo gets a glimpse at her beautiful face.
Ignoring the umbrellas right next to him, he quickly pays and leaves with his own plastic bags, and hurries outside, looking frantically for the girl. He spots her, opening her own umbrella and crossing the street. Kuroo splashes after her, yelping as he nearly slips and runs into her in his hurry. She gives a small scream and the two fall to the ground, instantly soaked.
Kuroo can’t stop apologizing, and the girl keeps stuttering an “It’s alright.” They help each other to their feet, and stand there in the rain, holding onto each other for a second before the girl realizes what she’s doing and quickly picks up her grocery bag (which was knotted and placed in another bag to protect it from the rain) and mumbles another apology, her face red, then walks away, keeping her head down after scooping up her umbrella.
Kuroo quickly follows her after picking up his own bag and realizes he’s seen her before. She goes to school with him. But they’ve never had an interaction, and she’s pretty quiet, and Kuroo is now realizing he’s never even looked at her face properly until now.
Her name comes to him so naturally it’s a bit odd. “L/N!” She turns, evident surprise on her face.
“Wanna go out on a date sometime?” Kuroo yells slightly over the rain, then smiles as he realizes how fricking cliche this is.
She looks taken aback, but blushes as she nods in agreement, then gestures for Kuroo to come nearer. They share the umbrella for a while, making plans for their date.
Got home super late today, thought I would be too tired to write todays part, instead I wrote such a long part I had to cut some stuff for tomorrow so I can review it properly. On another note, I love every single comment I got yesterday, they were so full of emotion and screaming, you guys are amazing.
Keith is still debating whether lying about not having letters was a bad decision or a terrible decision. He is doing fairly well, all things considered. The conversation flowed naturally, and there aren’t too many awkward pauses. There was just two problems; Keith is being too aware of everything. For example he just noticed that the pitch of Lance voice changes slightly when he chuckles, and also decided he likes that sound. He wonders if that’s weird. And no matter what, he kept thinking back on the letters, whether it was things he could write or things he had read. As they had breakfast all he could think about was the one letter where Lance mentioned them cooking together. Lance talking about Earth food didn’t help either. “I miss my mom’s breakfast so much every time I have to eat another breakfast of alien fruit.” “What are they like?” “Well, she makes a lot of different ones but my favorite is the pancakes without a doubt.” Keith smiles. “I remember eating those with my dad, he would let me flip them but I was awful at it.” “Oh man, me too.I once got one stuck in the ceiling.” Lance says with a grin. “Cool how there are apparently some things we have in common when we were kids.” Keith didn’t know why but this thoughts made him really happy. “Yeah, I guess it is.” Once they finished cleaning up, they went straight for the training room. As soon as Keith stepped inside he could feel himself become more awake with excitement. “Hey what if we fight the gladiator?” Lance suggests. Keith hums in thought. “Maximum difficulty?” Lance staggers at the suggestion. “M- you think we can beat it?” “Where is the confidence that you were talking about cool samurai?” He replies with a sly grin, he had been looking forward to training with someone for too long to hold back. Lance rolls his eyes, trying to look tough. “I mean, of course I know we can, I’m just wondering if you’ll slow me down.” With both of them agreeing, Keith starts telling the training room to summon the Gladiator. Meanwhile Lance heads over to a corner and places his jacket down, taking out his bayard from an inner pocket he sewed himself. Keith remembers the day Lance made it pretty well.
They had all agreed it was a good idea to have their bayards with them at all times in case of emergency, including when they were in casual wear. Lance decided to make a hidden pocket in his jacket for his, and Keith was being scolded for not resting enough by Allura and Shiro. So by coincidence they ended up spending the day together. At the start Keith tried to sleep on the living room couch, but eventually gave up and decided to watch Lance sew instead, it was weirdly mesmerizing. He also remembers laughing with Lance at bad tailoring puns. Keith liked that day, he wonders if Lance wrote-
“Keith? Buddy, you there?” Lance words call him back to the present. “Gonna take out your bayard before the Gladiator is out or do you wanna to get your ass kicked?” “Uh, yeah.” Keith fumbles with his belt, detaching his bayard from it, and forming his sword. Lance grins at him and imitates, it was still weird to Keith seeing him with a sword bayard, but at the same time it suited him. “Brings back memories doesn’t it? Fighting this thing together?” Lance says as he gets on a fighting stance. Keith does the same. “Hopefully no one will get almost sucked into space this time.” “Really hope not.” “Aw, Keith are you worr-” “He’s coming.” Keith cuts him off, simply because he would rather not lose just because Lance was busy flirting- wait was it flirting? A punch on his stomach doesn’t let him keep his thoughts wandering.
The fight is harsh, but they still manage to win by working together. Every time the Gladiator tries to dodge, one of them the other is there to hit it’s open side. When it wants to hit Keith after an attack, Lance is there with his shield. When he throws Lance away into almost the other side of the room, he manages to switch to gun quickly and hit it in the back. Everything feels like a complicated dangerous dance, at the tune of clashing swords. Keith can’t stop grinning, even as a slash grazes his ear, he thinks it might be bleeding. Needless to say, they win, and he hates to admit it but they might have even set a record time on their first try. “So we are awesome.” Lance says with a wide smile, gasping for breath. “Guess so.” “So what’s next?” He asks, wiping away sweat on his forehead. Keith grins at the question. “Next, you fight me.”
“I’m courting Elizabeth Schuyler, Laurens. Do you remember her? We met at the-”
“Winter’s Ball. Yes, I recall.” John’s voice was tight, his tightened fists hidden in his coat pockets. Alexander grinned happily, unaware of his friend’s abnormal behavior.
“I’ve come to fancy her, and through our letters, she agreed to court me. We’ve been together for a few weeks now.”
“Ah, yes. Congratulations.” John replied curtly. Alexander pulled John into a hug, finally noticing his stiff posture. John did not offer a hug back, just a small smile. “I’m happy for you, Hamilton.”
Alexander’s smile wavered, scanning Laurens’ face. “Are you okay, John? You seem…peculiar.” John quickly realized his demeanor, and cleared his throat, faking a huge smile for his friend.
“No, no! Please, Alexander, I am fine. Let’s go and tell the others!” John placed his hand on the small of Alexander’s back, and they began walking.
John felt his heart shatter the moment he heard that his close friend was courting someone. He wanted to hide from the world and cry his eyes out. Sadly, John had fallen in love with Alexander. It was very taboo for a man to love another man but John could not lie to himself about his feelings. It wasn’t lusting. It wasn’t admiration. It wasn’t infatuation. It was love. But, John could not be with Alexander and love him publicly, as much as he wanted to. He must find a woman and marry her, just like Alexander and all the other men in the world. John must follow society’s rules or else he will find himself outcasted or, even, dead.
So, he kept all of his feelings to himself.
John and Alexander made it to the tent, Alexander excitedly telling his friends about Eliza. Laurens stood in the corner, smiling whenever he was obligated to and laughing when it was needed. As he watched, another fellow soldier came into the room, giving him a letter. He glanced over the recipient’s name and sighed.
It was his father.
He told his friends that he would be back, and walked out the tent to a lone tree that rested in the middle of the open field. He sat under the shade of the plant and began reading the letter.
Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens
Your mother and I have seldom received letters from you. It worries her that you do not update us on your predicament, although I understand why you cannot. I am on leave from my post, and your mother has special news for you.
We have found a suitable maiden for you to marry. Since you are unable to court due to your lack of caring, we have decided to find you one ourselves. She is an acceptable young woman, with interests in the arts and sciences. Your mother thought you would appreciate that.
Nevertheless, send me a letter back promptly so that we may arrange a meeting with her and her family.
Delegate of the Continental Congress
John tightened his grip on the paper, anger fuming from him. He marched back to the tent, his temper not lowering. Why did his father have to be such a-
“John? John are you alright?” Lafayette asked, looking over at his freckled-faced friend. John shook his head. Everything that happened today was getting to him, and this was the last straw.
“My father has arranged for me to meet a woman. He wants us to marry.” He growled, throwing the letter onto the ground. Mulligan stood up and grabbed the letter. He scanned it over quickly, then looked up.
“I’m sure he means well,” Mulligan said, trying to cheer up his friend. John shook his head, grabbing his coat off of Lafayette’s cot.
“When does he ever mean well?” John grumbled, fixing his outfit. Hamilton looked at him with concern, his smile finally gone from his face. John knew he was ruining the moment for his best friend, but he was just tired of everything not going his way.
First, the man John is in love with courts a woman he barely knows.
Then, his father comes up with this idiotic idea for him to marry someone he doesn’t even have the name of.