The things I find when I clean up my hard drive. I forgot I even had this.
Boosh boys dancing and fooling around backstage (ca. 2006) to The 80’s Matchbox B-line Disaster. I still think it’s so fucking cute that Noel doesn’t really know the lyrics to this song and still sings along.
This is literally the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Rich is adorable.
a/n: nishinoya and tanaka convince you to come watch karasuno practice after school one day, which throws daichi off
word count: ~1.4k words
It had only been a month since you started dating Daichi and you were both on cloud nine. Anytime you were together, it was like being in your own little world where nothing mattered except the two of you.
Nishinoya and Tanaka, the troublesome second years, noticed this detail about you and their captain, which led them to believe that if you came by the gym to watch them practice, Daichi would be less angry and scary. And they would, therefore, avoid being scolded. So, when they discovered your club activities were canceled for the afternoon, they thought it was the perfect opportunity to put their theory to the test.
You’re at your locker, excited to be going home early because you could continue binge watching the new show you had just started when you suddenly hear rapid footsteps approaching. You glance behind you to see the libero and wing spiker standing there with huge grins.
“Hey Nishinoya, Tanaka…” you cautiously greet, slinging your backpack onto your shoulder before turning to face them.
ok so I had a dream that John was battling in a Pokemon arena against Scott only Scott had a level a million Mew Two and absolutely destroyed John’s poor Venusaur… This mostly entertained me because Venusaur isn’t a Pokemon I’d have given to John while conscious because he tends to get all the space themed ones (like Cosmog etc) but now I think about it makes PERFECTsense for him to have a Venusaur because it’s TOS cannon that he has a lab of plants growing up on that spacestation of his and I adore this and love writing about John and tiny plants and actually it’s perfect and now I want to draw John hugging a bulbasaur and actually that’s really tempting where’s my graphics tablet
A comic idea my friends helped me come up with :D based off the hc that emmet has to hatch a bunch of joltiks to get his galvantula ^^ i’d like to think he got a shiny at some point lol
Have some band of brothers joy! From left to right: Eugene Roe, Lewis Nixon, Dick Winters, Harry Welsh, Carwood Lipton,Joe Toye, Bill Guarnere, Babe Heffron, in the stack at the bottom is George Luz, Bull Randleman, and Skip muck on top, then next to them is Joe Liebgott, Buck Compton, Frank Perconte, Don Malarkey, and finally Johnny Martin. So many, but i love them all
Tony gets a tattoo. It’s not artistic in any sense. Just a simple red and gold thread woven around two flowers. One blue daffodil, with green and yellow flecks. The other blue rose, with grey edged petals. But it was his idea. Stemmed from the long buried secret that he has loved flowers for far longer than he loved machines. All because of his mother, whose habit of spending all her time wandering in the gardens, playing hide and seek with her son or just teaching him to weave a tapestry of colors with petals had become some of Tony’s best memories. So he gets those flowers tattooed over his heart, right where the scars from the reactor, the shield and the metal fingers digging deep mar his skin. It could be symbolic. Or irony. Or whatever. But for him, it’s just an idea. Like Iron Man, Peter Parker, therapy or eating blueberries first thing in the morning for the rest of his life.
He gets a tattoo and waits for them in their shared suite. The mission would be gruelling, taxing in a way all things from their past are. A raid to sniff out the rotten leftovers of Hydra is never easy on either of them. For some reason, they are adamant in keeping him from joining them on those. Tony used to think it was because they wanted to be privy to that bit of shared past. Till Nat told him about her need to keep Bruce away from all things Red room, yet share it with Clint. Not because she doesn’t want Bruce intruding. But because they would both rather keep that bit of unpleasantness away from him. It bothered him at first, the flaw in her, their logic. Neither Bruce nor Tony are delicate in a way that they need to be protected. Hell, Tony himself has a bone to pick with Hydra for what they did to his mother. Then one day, he found the kid having a panic attack and it struck him, all of a sudden. It’s not that the kid hasn’t seen a shit load of things in his life. He’s seen more death and destruction than two soldiers from World War two have and is strong enough to shoulder the weight of the world. And yet, that time when Tony wrapped him in a tight embrace, whispering soothing nonsense to drown out the noise, he wanted nothing but to keep him there. Safe and sound. Away from every bit of evil out there.
He understands now.
The door opens and he stirs from the strange limbo between sleep and restlessness. He blinks as he spots the two haggered looking soldiers drag their body through the motions, offers them a smile and a wave when they go shower. He waits for the bickering to start before stretching and heading towards the cupboard. He takes their shirt. One flimsy grey thing the two soldiers take turns wearing just to bathe it in their scent. So that when they leave, Tony could wear it and keep them close. It’s strange putting it on when they’re right here, bickering about hot water privileges.
By the time the water finally turns off, he’s flushed pink and uncertain enough to begin fidgeting. Should he keep these buttons open? Wears pants? Makeup? Do or say something that attracts their attention? Or just let them figure it out in their own time?
He picks on the fraying edges of the sleeves when the doors open. Keeps his eyes on the kettle shaped stain on the carpet and prays for the kiss of red on his cheeks to disappear. It doesn’t happen and instead, the sight of him sitting at the edge of their bed, wearing the shirt and a blush that’s part mortification and nerves catches the attention of the sniper.
“Doll, everything alright?”
Tony looks up and smiles. His knuckles strain white in their grip over the hem of his shirt.
“Peachy.”
“Why are you wearing the shirt,” Steve asks, ignoring the way he tries to deflect their hands and cupping his jaw. “We’re herenow.”
Bucky keeps his gaze trained over his face, eyes just as sharp as the day he got down to his knees in front of Tony, begging for a chance at redemption. “You hiding something, sweet thing,” he questions and runs the collar of their shirt in between his vibranium strengthened fingers. Tony shivers and fidgets, suddenly unsure. But their blues are similar yet different, brighter yet darker under dim luminescence of cove lights in the ceiling.
He smiles when he tells Friday to switch up the brightness so they can see exactly what he’s hiding under the thin fraying cover of their shirt.
Bucky’s breath hitches once. Then he’s pouncing onto him like the starving man he often is.
After,after they make it to the third act. After they are satiated and blissed out on the bed. After the two soldiers have him trapped, happy and excited in the middle, he asks them.
“You like it?”
“Welove it,” Steve says, kissing his cheek, his nose, his lips and his ears. His hand is spread over his chest, right below the new patchwork of colors marking his skin.
“We do.” Bucky nips at the good spot over his wrist. The one that his his heart racing in a way that’s embarrassing for a man his age. And looks up at him through his lashes, tracing his lips over the thread that binds the daffodil and rose.
“We love you,” they both whisper and wrap him in an embrace that speaks volumes in the wake of his stunned silence.
