For the past week Peter had been much more snarky than usual. At first you had found it comical, enjoying his snappy responses and his sarcastic comments. But that was when they had been directed at everyone else. He had never been that way with you. Recently that had changed, and the more annoyed he seemed at you the snarkier he got and the less funny it was.
“What crawled up your ass and died?” You finally confronted him, annoyance seeping into your tone. Peter didn’t even glance up from the newspaper he was reading, pretending like he hadn’t heard you as he carefully turned the page and scanned it for an interesting article. “Peter!” Grabbing for the newspaper it wrinkled and ripped loudly as you pulled it from his hands.
Glancing angrily up at you Peter rose to his feet, shoulders rolling back as he stood. “Why don’t you ask your best friend, Derek?” He asked, brushing past your shoulder and stomping his way up the spiral staircase towards his room like a toddler.
Flabbergasted, you stood where you had been with the newspaper balled in your hand. “You’re being an ass because you’re jealous?! Seriously?” You yelled. The only answer you got was the slam of Peter’s bedroom door as he closed it loudly behind himself.
What's Steve's reaction to Tony selling Stark/Avengers Tower? Bittersweet? Just sad? Curious?
Pulling the cardboard flaps back, Steve reached into the box.
Balled up newspaper was jammed into every corner. Packing tumbled to the floor.
A headline caught his eye. Box forgotten, he stooped to pick up the crumpled paper.
The front page had a big photo and a bigger headline. The tower was being sold.
Avengers Tower. Stark Tower before that.
Steve dropped into a nearby chair. He didn’t read the
article, just laid it flat, smoothing out the creases with his palm. A pop startled
him. His gaze flickered over to the crackling fireplace. Focusing back on the
paper, his eyes glazed over. Twice, he attempted to read the article, but the
words didn’t sink in. The fire shifted and burned down. He needed to add a log.
The pile near the flames was down to a log or two. Steve remained in his chair.
A loud thump came from outside. Footsteps clumped around on
the porch, their sound muffled by the swirling snow outside his window. Steve
stood as his door popped open, a crisp wind blowing in.
Taking a step, he slipped the page into the fire.
Bucky shook snow from his jacket as he wrestled the door
closed while holding his armful of logs.
“You get that stuff unpacked yet?” Bucky asked, as he took
in the mess on the table.
“No. I got distracted.” Steve said glancing over at the
flames as the last of the page blackened, turning to ash.
various things my professors have said over the years that i’ve written in the margins of my notebook. possible part ii in the future!
“i do not consider ohio to be a legitimate state. moreover, i have suspicions about the goings-on in ohio.”
“goddammit. i need to take a pill. get out.”
“if i want to put a lethal amount of metal in my penis, i’m going to. you can’t stop me.”
“tell [NAME] that they’re full of shit. and that i hate them.”
“i have an idea. it’s oatmeal – but it’s shaped like cornflakes.”
“disneyworld for dogs is just butts. they’re like ‘screw the rides, just get me to a butt.’ they wouldn’t care about anything else. newspaper, balls – well. maybe some balls. not balls you throw, though.”
“you destroyed my faith in love. now i’m worried my partner only thinks about me once a day.”
“type one error: you say you love someone, but you don’t.”
“type two error: you say you don’t love someone, but you do.”
“i cannot reject the null hypothesis i do not love you. now that hurts.”
“my god. that man has the biggest calves i have ever seen.”
“please do not help one another. this is survival of the fittest.”
“they’ll neeever respect you! they know you as [NAME]’s doormat now!”
“shut the fuck up. i’m kidding.”
“don’t sneeze while i’m speaking. that is so, so rude.”
“my handwriting is what one would call avant-garde.”
“awaken your inner lassie!”
“can i sit on your bony knees?”
“this is called: statistics … with a heart.”
“i have never heard of this ‘whiskey dick.’”
“it’s like trying to squeeze a bowling ball through a goddamn straw. it doesn’t work. it isn’t efficient.”
“you must take a leap of faith. into oncoming traffic.”
“when an omniscient spirit gets stuck in an ignorant and finite body, it forgets everything. which is exactly why babies are so stupid.”
“you ever seen a baby? useless.”
“every time you feel like posting something on facebook: don’t.”
You should have called me earlier Scully. It's freezing in here and you need to keep warm.... (For the first sentence challenge and can I request msr please but not smut because you do good feels!)
I loved writing this - never done a prompt like this before so thank you anon. I tried to get the feels in there for you!
WARM (Cancer arc)
“You should have called me earlier Scully; it’s freezing in here and you need to keep warm”
I am careful to keep my tone as neutral as possible despite the way my concern has ratcheted upwards at the sight of my partner standing before me, because wrapped in a blanket she might be, but comfortable she plainly isn’t and even though she tries to hide the tremors that have taken hold of her, I think deep down she knows it’s a lost cause.
“I d…didn’t….want…t..t..to b…bother you on a s…saturday….esp…especially not to dr…ive’
Her words are almost hidden by the hitching breath that is catching in her throat although whether it’s because of the cold or because she is trying not to cry I just can’t tell right now. Automatically I reach out toward her, my intention two fold - to try to comfort her in my slightly clumsy way but also to check how chilled she actually is. I’m unsurprised though when she steps back slightly, dropping her eyes from mine and shaking her head in a very definite ‘no’ as even standing right there in front of me, she is determined to hide.
Her expression instead settles on the small grate opposite the sofa, where the beginnings of a fire has been laid - loosely balled up newspaper crisscrossed with thin wooden kindling - an attempt to generate warmth in the wake of the winter power-out that the recent ice storm has wreaked on much of this area. No power means no forced air heat which accounts for the chill in the apartment.
I’m a little confused though as to why she hasn’t lit it, especially since everything is in place until I suddenly notice the spent match that is still stuck to the small, melted patch of cream carpet just in front of the hearth and I realise that a combination of yesterdays chemo and her current low temperature has weakened her to such an extent that she is unable to sufficiently control her grip on the match to strike it safely.
Those strong, capable doctors hands that have worked their soothing magic on me a thousand times now temporarily rendered ineffective by the cancer that is slowly but surely taking her from me.
But now is not the time to wallow in my own pathetic self pity because this is wholly about her, about making her immediate situation better. So I drop to my knees and pick up the box of discarded matches, watching as the small flame spreads to engulf the wood and paper beneath, the comforting sound of crackling kindling surrounding me and replacing the awkwardness that exists between us. An awkwardness born of the fact that my partner hates to ask for help, and that her embarrassment to have failed in such a simple task is heartbreakingly evident.
Its for that reason I don’t turn back to her until the fire is established; the logs I finally placed on it radiating a delicious warmth that I know will make things better for her in the short term at least.
And it’s for the same reason that, as I take her hand and coax her gently to nestle against me, her head resting on the cushion I placed on my lap and her frail body curled against mine, I don’t acknowledge that she is crying.
Instead I simply pull her in closer and know that for tonight at least, she will allow me to be here for her.
Travelling with bettas can be a stressful time whether you’re driving an hour away or flying to a whole other country. Fortunately, to help relieve the stress and improve the chances of your fish arriving safely to its destination, here are tips for travelling with betta fish:
Hiya! I told you i already followed your tumblr 😚 can i make a request? How the 2p would react to moving in with their lover? Also i love 2p china so much *nervous sweat*
((you got it~ also, what’chu nervous for? any 2p!china fan is an automatic friend of mine orz))
Moving in with a 2P
2p!america: would do a half-assed job of packing such as labeling a box ‘kitchen shit’ and would get sidetracked easily, like playfully throwing cellophane or newspaper balls at you
2p!china: would totally have sex with you on an air mattress, and/or run around the house’s empty halls like a kid while you’re unpacking and enjoy the open space (because he’s using to living with all his siblings where it gets cramped)
2p!england: would be really uptight and picky about choosing what to place in which cabinets, making sure everything’s organized, but by the end of the day, he’d still somehow have the kitchen ready enough to prepare you a ‘first night in the house’ dinner for you… and probably have to sit on the floor
2p!france: would unpack his stuff in a messy and disorganized way, but he literally wouldn’t touch your stuff in fear of breaking or losing something, his subtle way of showing he cares
2p!russia: would get all the important stuff handled first, like putting together the bed and tables, hoping to go at a fast pace to please you and make you feel comfortable there
2p!italy: would do you both a favor–he’d set up the wifi before doing anything else.
2p!germany: would totally build a couch and sheet fort on the first night and use a shadeless lamp to toast marshmallows with you
2p!japan: would use flashlights on the first night to tell you scary stories and then fall asleep to the sound of your breathing
2p!canada: would find a secret attic, show it to you, and then deem it your lair
2p!romano: would be ecstatic to decorate and always ask for your opinion on which decorations to buy (but would usually go with what he chose tbh))
2p!austria: would gossip about the neighbors with you
2p!prussia: would ask you for about the 100th time if you’re sure about moving in with him, even once you’re in the door, and after you’re done unpacking he’d probably get emotional and hug you tight as you two began the rest of your lives with each other.
@sixpenceee, a while back there was a snakeskin on my ceiling. Now I’ve found something even cooler. I live in a pretty old house, I think it was built in the mid 1800s, but my grandparents added an addition in the 60s. My grandmother lives in the addition. My mother, aunt and I all went upstairs looking for a leak that was dripping into my grandmother’s bathroom. We have a bathroom right above hers, and in the bathroom’s closet there’s a little wooden panel covering the pipes for the bathtub. My aunt and mom and me look in there to see if there was any water damage, and sure enough, the wood under the tub was wet. I looked around with the flashlight some more; there was a little scrunched up washcloth absorbing some of the water in there. Then I looked around the side of the tub, and was surprised to see a yellowed newspaper, balled up and crammed in there between the wall and the tub. I managed to get the newspaper out with some tongs, carefully unfolded it, and saw the date was from March 19th, 1963! I showed it to my grandmother and asked her if someone maybe put it in there to absorb excess moisture or something, but she couldn’t remember. I think I’ll replace it with a recent newspaper. Who knows, maybe someone else will find it in 60 years
[Pictured: a large Rat Kingdom Junior cage. Inside it hanging from the roof of the cage are: a piece of fabric strung along the top, with carrots and snow peas pegged to it; behind it, a patchwork hammock; behind that, although it’s difficult to see, is a purple sputnik; in front, a stripey hammock and a rope bird toy. On the second level is a rat at a food bowl covered in pieces of fabric, and behind this is a green igloo. On the bottom level is shredded newspaper, a yellow ball, a food bowl, another brightly coloured hammock, and an open box with two more rats inside it.]
set the fact that you went to school for theatre makes me look up to you even more, im a wee 20 year old theater major hoping to become a costuming professor someday and you rambling about how to make the megamind headpiece is just, i dont know, VERY COOL TO ME, you are so cool to me, i hope you realize this
AAAAAAHHH FELLOW THEATRE PERSON! And you want to be a costuming professor–that’s so cool!
ALSO. OMG. I have so many Megamind-and-theatre ideas!
I, no joke, once had a dream which was a full-on MUSICAL THEATRE VERSIONOF MEGAMIND.
(it was amazing)
The part I remember best is Megamind’s song that started after the fight with Minion, when he’s standing in front of the mirror–right after the line about not wanting to be the bad guy any more.
The song continued through the restaurant scene, with the dialogue interspersed in the music. Roxanne leaned in for the kiss, the scene froze, and Megamind stepped out to sing the final part of the song.
The last line of the song was “for once in my life, let me be good”. Then he stepped back into the scene, and the kiss happened.
(I write plays–some of them musicals–and act; also I directed/designed one of my own plays; some context)
I REALLY THINK IT WOULD BE SO COOL TO DO A PLAY VERSION OF MEGAMIND
AUDIENCE INTERACTION–at the opening of the Metro Man museum, the actual audience does the cheering for Metro Man and the booing at Megamind! During the beginning of the rain scene, they could do a Rocky-Horror-ish thing with squirting water bottles and throwing like balled up newspaper, etc. (like it’s the re-hydrating garbage!) And then at the end of the play, the audience does the cheering for Megamind!
THE BRAINBOTS are people dressed in black clothes, except their sleeves are silver/gray, with cardboard circles glued on to the inside/outside of the elbows to look like mechanical joints. They wear silver/gray mittens for pincers.
The brain-cases would start off as construction hard hats that you would build onto–a lower jaw made out of poster paper, attached to the upper jaw with circles of poster paper to look like gears, teeth made out of more poster paper; spikes made out of poster paper. The eyestalks could be made of poster paper strips folded accordion-style, hole punch the center, put a wire through the holes, and that allows the eyestalk to be bent and hold its shape. The eyes themselves could be made of lightweight empty plastic containers. Then paint everything.
HAL’S TRANSFORMATION to Post-infusion!Hal could be shown mostly by strategic costume change: he would wear clothes that fit for his normal scenes, then emerge after infusion in the sameoutfit, but way too small for him, which would give the impression of him having bulked up!
His transformation from Tighten to Hal after he’s de-fused could likewise be accomplished with a costume change: there’s a fitted Tighten suit and then he falls strategically behind the fountain and is quickly changed into a loose-fitted Tighten suit, giving the impression that he’s shrank!
THE DISGUISE WATCH: the actors using them would just be wearing masks–the kind you just hold up on a stick, probably, to make it deliberately theatrical. (the kind that Megamind uses in the movie when training Hal and pretending to be Space Dad pretending to be Megamind, lol!) The audience can always tell when someone’s using a watch, but the other characters can’t. The kiss in the restaurant scene–Roxanne closes her eyes, leans in for a kiss, grabs Megamind’s wrist, twists the watch, Megamind drops the mask and kisses her without realizing the change has happened.
THE DANCE SCENE AT THE END IS THE CURTAIN CALL! (it’s structured like a theatre curtain call in the movie anyway!)
AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH WOULDN’T IT BE SO COOL? I’VE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS SO MUCH! WHAT DO YOU THINK?
Hannibal raised a kettle of spring water brought to a boil, and poured its contents in a glittering arc. The waiting loose leaves of second flush Darjeeling blossomed inside the porcelain teapot he’d painstakingly brought home from his travels.
He appreciatively breathed in the honey-sweet muscatel notes of the tea and swirled it gently in its antique bone china teacup, before taking a quiet sip, enjoying the sublime silence of his kitchen.
debbie’s sick; ian and mickey try to make her feel better [ianmickey - 1500 words - ao3]
Ian pressed his palm against Debbie’s forehead, heat radiating off her flushed skin. He winced. Ian knew Debbie hated being sick, hated it more than spiders, hated it more than changing Liam’s diaper, and hated it more than filling the dishwasher.
“Jesus Debs, you’re burning up.”
Debbie groaned and reached for the glass of water on her bedside table. “I’m dying,” she announced.
“You’re not dying.” Ian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. I know being sick sucks, but you’ll get over it in a couple of days. Just stay in bed and rest up. Let me know if you need anything.”