mud stuffing

Quill: Hey, Pete.

Peter: Hey, Stud Muffin.

Bucky: Hey.

Peter: [Peter looks at Bucky] Dad calls him Stud Muffin, so I call him Stud Muffin.

Bucky: [suspicious] Is that right?

Quill: You must be Tony’s husband. I’m Quill.

Bucky: [still suspicious] How do you know my husband again there, Mud Stuffing?

Quill: I worked him out this morning.

Bucky: [jealous] Oh, really? I worked him out this morning, too, pretty good.

Forever And Always | chris evans

wanna be on my taglist?

Requested: Anonymous

Imagine: Can you please do a Chris Evans imagine inspired by the song ‘say you won’t let go’ by James Arthur. Please and Thank You.

Taglist: @peteparkersmichelle , @patzammit , @pillow223 , @ketterdame , @fstobsessed

Song:

Warning(s): Fluff


 You’ve been with Chris for seven years now and you couldn’t be anymore thankful for someone like him to be in your life. You two have been best friends ever since you two were little kids. Your mothers were best friends and you two lived in the same neighborhood. You were born one day after Chris and that was always a good thing because Chris would throw a humongous birthday party and you would be the first one he’d invite. And when you arrived, there would always be two cakes, one for you and one for him.

 Although it seemed a little cheesy at first, it started to gradually grow something special. On his sixteenth birthday, you were the only one to show up to his birthday party because he wasn’t the most popular type in school. Even though you were the only one to show up to the party, it was still one of the best days of your entire life. Because that night, was the night that he confessed his feelings for you and gave you your first kiss.

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He Stands in the Midst of Nations (DA2, Carver Hawke)

…how will Bethany know him when they see each other again, and he’s an old man and she’s still young, a fixed point in time getting ever-farther away?

A character study for Ser Carver Hawke, knight-lieutenant of the Templar Order. 

For @thievinghippo.


Sea breeze or not, Carver still sweats under his armor. His sleeves have bunched at his armpits something fierce, which means every time he moves it feels like he’s being rubbed with burlap, and something’s gone wrong with the collar of his chestpiece, so there’s a bloody blister forming at the nape of his neck.

Just another glorious day as a templar. He swallows down the old bitter sense of ill-use, and tries to ignore the voice crying why does this always happen to me in the back of his head. Sure, he’s miserable — hot and sticky and ready to yell from sheer frustration, and there are still four hours to go before he can sit down to lunch — but this is the misery he chose, and that makes whining about it pointless.

Better to stand in the sun and hate every minute because you chose to do so, rather than stand in your magnificent sister’s shadow and feel your soul curdling a little more every day, right?

The breeze tousles the hair falling over his forehead, cools the sweat stinging in his eyes. Carver tilts his head back and sighs as a little of his discomfort fades. The knight-captain always says it’s a templar’s duty to bear up under any little sufferings, and that he’ll get used to them in time, but Carver can’t see himself getting used to the chafes and aches any more than he can get used to smelling salt on the wind instead of good clean earth.

Still, he hasn’t complained out loud, which is more than he can say for Franklin or Rosemary, who only stop their whining when it’s time to eat, or to make some jab about Fereldan manure in the Gallows.

At first his fists itched to knock out a few of their teeth, and show them what happened when people sniped about farmers and dog lords. Like their parents had been any better than stablehands and barmaids; at least his family had owned the land they worked. But people expected him to brawl, he saw it in their eyes and in the glances they tossed back and forth, and so he gritted his teeth till he feared they’d crack, and never said a word, much less threw a blow.

Let them think he was too stupid to make sense of it all. He knew his worth. What did the rest matter?

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Happy Halloween! In celebration of creepy cool: I recently captured a quick glimpse of this solitary mud dauber wasp stuffing a 🐛 into her nest. She’ll lay a single egg in this nest she built and provision it with several juicy live paralyzed victims for her offspring to feed on. Can you imagine if wasps were human size?! 😱
#muddauber #wasp #paralyse #sphecid #tiffanybozic #PGHILL
#Bioblitz2017
#CASfieldnotes (at The Habitat Penang Hill)

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