Paperfingers with a Hint of Lemon

Illusionist Extraordinare

23 Apr
Honestly, it’s quite astonishing how much misery this movie manages to pack into two hours of mostly action sequences and espionage subplots, particularly since Captain America is supposedly one of the “lighter” superheroes, compared to the unending grimdarkness of Batman. I guess this is the difference between “manpain” and “a man in legitimate emotional pain.”

The Tragedy of Bucky Barnes

this was just maybe flat out my favorite part of this review because hi, true

(via defcontwo)

20 Apr meekobits:

How I wanted it to end.

meekobits:

How I wanted it to end.

16 Apr 
alyssafurnari: What more could a cat lady ask for?! #GRUMPYCAT!#TylerHoechlin @realgrumpycat#mtvmovieawards#TeenWolf#twinsies#love#catlady#yes
alyssafurnariWhat more could a cat lady ask for?! #GRUMPYCAT!#TylerHoechlin @realgrumpycat#mtvmovieawards#TeenWolf#twinsies#love#catlady#yes

(Source: dailytylerhoechlin)

16 Apr

black-nata:

frozensoldiers:

I THINK WHAT PISSED ME OFF THE MOST IN CAP 2 IS HOW LITTLE MILK PIERCE POURS IN THAT GLASS. LIKE IT’S THE TINIEST PORTION OF MILK IMAGINABLE. “DO YOU WANT SOME FUCKING MILK” NO LET ME POUR MY OWN FUCKING MILK. AND LET ME POUR THE LEAST. POSSIBLE. MILK. I CAN. POSSIBLY POUR INTO THIS GLASS. THE SMALLEST PORTION OF MILK POSSIBLE. U HAD AN ENTIRE CARTON. AND A LARGE GLASS. AND YOU POUR WHAT. LIKE. 2 INCHES OF MILK INTO THAT GLASS. PIERCE PISSED ME OFF THE MOST IN THAT SCENE. 

I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE

14 Apr

queenklu asked: SAM/CLINT DUKING IT OUT OVER WHO'S THE BEST BIRD

ifeelbetterer:

The pattern starts forming: after the big missions, the normal humans on the team tend to have shit to do in the medical floor Stark made for the Tower. And they tend to have to stay there a while.

It’s not like it’s on purpose or something anyone is conscious of, but the Steve Rogers and Bruce Banners of the world basically can shake off the gaping intestinal wound and finish watching the film they’d had on pause since being called out to fight aliens. The Clint Bartons and Sam Wilsons, on the other hand, have to wait for neck braces and dislocated shoulders to be fixed. 

The first time it happens, Barton just nods to Sam and sits in stony silence for the twenty minutes it takes a nurse to bandage all the abrasions on his arms—arms which, of course, he hadn’t bothered to even clothe let alone wear significant kevlar protection. Sam’s got a pretty significant gouge out of his left shoulder so he’s not entirely up for conversation either.

The second time, Sam’s there because one of his own wings erupted and is sort of stuck in his back. Barton’s there because he fell badly and something’s wrong with his right foot.

"Taking the bird thing a bit literally," he says after a half hour.

Sam blinks. He honestly thought they weren’t ever going to talk.

"Fuck you and the bow and arrow you rode in on," he says.

Somehow, that makes Barton grin.

The third time, Barton’s whole left side is covered in burns and Sam’s just got a sprained wrist but he’s in no rush because clearly every doctor in the entire building so be dealing with the dude whose left side is entirely covered in burns.

"You get that I’m the one with the wings, right?” Sam says.

Barton grunts but it’s sort of a quizzical grunt so Sam continues.

"I mean, of the birds on this team," he says. "Let’s count how many of us should actually be jumping off cliffs into pits of fire."

Barton huffs a laugh.

"Because one of us earned their bird name," Sam says. "And the other’s all talk."

"Your face is all talk," Barton says, his voice gravelly and strained.

"Yeah, but my face can fly.”

The fourth time, they have matching bullet wounds. Nobody says anything and the machines just keep beeping quietly.

The fifth time, Barton’s jaw is broken so Sam takes the opportunity to explain how if he wanted to pick a bird based purely on eyesight, there are better options than a hawk. Falcons, for example. Super good eyesight.

The sixth time, it’s clear Barton—Clint, he corrects when Sam says it out loud—has been watching some Planet Earth. Sam decide’s to call him “Cooper’s Hawk” for a while.

"The male is smaller than the female," he explains. "Seemed appropriate."

"Fuck you,” Clint says, grinning.

06 Mar

tsukinofaerii:

polytropic-liar:

tifferini:

a teen wolf au in which everyone is an android

"I think it’s kinda cute." Kate props a hand on her hip and peers through the observation glass at Sc077’s testing chamber. "Look at him with his big creepy robot eyes and his little bugs in the code. Adorable."

"This is more than bugs, Katherine." Allison’s executive processors start calculating escape routes whenever Dr. Gerard’s voice sounds like that. "Watch."

Sc077 asked her to call him Scott yesterday. Allison does, and wipes it from her memory before it’s logged as data. She carefully doesn’t think about why. Scott is entering the immersion program now, making his way towards his objective with careful, measured uses of his special enhancements for strength and speed. Allison likes watching him. She likes that her enhanced eyes are the only ones in the room that can track his movements.

The program wavers. In Scott’s path is a human child, injured. Allison’s eyes narrow. They’ve done this same experiment with her; she preformed adequately. She called emergency services for the child without slowing her pace.

Scott stops. He bends down, reaches out a hand to the child. She can sense him modulating his voice, soft and calm and with the motherhood harmonics from their sound templates. Allison glances at Gerard. That’s wrong. Scott has done something wrong.

Kate and Gerard turn away from the screen as the program terminates.

"I knew Alan’s stupid Synthetic Soul program was shit. This is why we should keep programmers within the family," Kate comments. "Is the other one fucking up too?"

"See for yourself." The other observation wall clears. This one’s call number is very long, St0186529374. Scot calls him Stiles. Allison doesn’t know why. He’s sitting at a terminal, plugged into a data field. Allison watches the screen; logic sets. Analysis, inference and synthesis. She performs well on those but after roughly 90 minutes finds her attention sort of…wandering.

Stiles is fast, faster than Allison is at least. His fingers dance over the input keys, check check clear, check check clear.

"Watch this." Gerard alters the program from his terminal. Allison catches a glimpse of it as it goes past, and cross-references with her web uplink. That’s not a logic set. Her processors don’t return an answer for it.

In the room, Stiles frowns. His fingers dance; hesitate; try again. Check. Check. Check check check check check check—

"Oh good, you broke it," Kate starts—

The center of Stiles’ left eye sparks, just a flash, and then the program dings. Clear.

"What the fuck?" Kate leans over the screen. "He doesn’t have the programming for that. Whatever that was."

"Insight. Lateral thinking. Inspiration.” Gerard’s voice is doing the thing again. Allison stands very still. “And the alpha model? Compassion. Empathy. Nurturing. This is more than mere bugs in the code, Katherine. We have two bona fide ghosts in the machine.”

As one, they turn to look at Allison. For some reason her homeostasis maintenance systems start functioning at heightened levels. She thinks she might be trying to sweat.

"May I be of service?" she asks, standard phrase, basic programming, no understanding of what is going on other than that she might be required.

Kate grins. “At least our Argent models are still working right.”

"Indeed." Gerard is still watching her. Allison meets his gaze with eyes she knows are flat and lifeless as any other machine’s, and very carefully doesn’t think about the roof of the facility, the wind in her hair, the clear ‘off-limits, you may not enter’ note in her programming. She tries very hard to keep out of her mind the knowledge that she has done what not even Scott and Stiles have yet managed to do:

Disobey.

SO HOW MANY HUMAN ORGANS DO I NEED TO COLLECT TO MAKE THIS TURN INTO A FULL FIC?

06 Mar

catastrophy-star:

Just imagined Sinqua Walls as Batwing and my brain shorted out.

Why isn’t there a show starring Sinqua Walls? It must be that most people have never had the pleasure of knowing what Sinqua Walls looks like. He looks like a freaking superhero, this man should be an action star where he’s jumping out of exploding buildings and respecting women’s boundaries and revealing that he’s also a master chef on the side. I’m just saying, Sinqua Walls’ jaw is so square that Legos get jealous. He would rock it as David Zavimbe.

23 Jan

s4karuna:

JUSTICE LEAGUE FANCAST: requested by anonymous

Daniel Henney as Clark Kent/Superman 
Sendhil Ramamurthy as Bruce Wayne/Batman
Rosario Dawson as Diana Prince/Wonder Woman
Grant Gustin as Barry Allen/The Flash
Nicole Beharie as Joan Stewart/Green Lantern
Naya Rivera as Shayera Hol/Hawkgirl
Idris Elba as J'onn J'onzz/Martian Manhunter

18 Jan

katiestkid:

Can Jeffrey Dean Morgan play Derek’s dad (IDK, I think they look alike)

05 Jan

americachavez:

FRIENDS CONSIDER, IF YOU WILL, BEYONCE AS EMMA FROST