dude all these T’Challa posts and fics that characterize him as like…this controlled, calm and uptight guy has never see or read anything with T’Challa in it EVER. Hes extra as hell and RIDICULOUS as fuck
In civil war alone he:
1. runs around in a cat suit complete with tiny ears and claws
2. kicks the shit out of every white guy throughout the whole thing
3. climbs on sam while wilson is in the air like an ACTUAL cat
4. wanted to see ayo beat natashas ass for funsies
5. tackles zemo in the snow
like everything he does is ridiculous yall get it together
7. just hops on the car steve is driving and gives up on running for a bit in the chase scene
8. father just died, but of course hes all “fight me borky” and ready to throw hands immediately
9. clawed his way down the side of a building, scratching it up forever
10. looked at a heavily armed helicopter, annoyed, bc it dared to shoot at him, the guy who showed up out of nowhere in a cat suit
Let’s also remember he does this while being the king of a country.
T’Challa is among my favourite characters because his actual actions are basically the apotheosis of “hold my beer”, but he does it all with such unshakable gravitas that it’s only afterwards that it occurs to you to go “hey, wait a minute…”.
Spinflask tended to hyperfocus on his work. Most chemists did. Having explosive blood tended to make one rather cautious when working with corrosive chemicals and fire.
However, most chemists probably did not make a sound like a robotic duck being stepped on if someone were to unexpectedly re-occupy their chair. But Spinflask did, and had, and it was adorable.
Looking a bit like his thought processes had shorted out, Spinflask blinked and automatically placed both servos against warm plating, staring up at the bot who’d distracted him in such a strange manner. Even if he’d noticed the approach, the last thing he would have expected was being picked up out of his chair and then placed back- in someone else’s lap.
After a moment’s staring, he shook his helm and blinked hard, seeming to reset himself just enough to speak. “Um- hello? Can- can I help you?”
Having lived the majority of her life around those who lived more for their work than they did for themselves, Shard was going to make sure Spinflask took care of himself. Even in such a short time period of being around him, she had picked up on some of his less than stellar eating habits.
And as such, she was going to take advantage of her position of familiarity to manhandle him in such a way that he wouldn’t be able to easily ignore her or make excuses to keep working.
Keeping a stern look on her face was far more difficult than necessary with the noises he was making. She completely is not going to save that audio clip for later, no not at all. Nor save a picture of his utterly baffled expression looking up at her, he was far too cute for his own good, the scamp’s already catching at her sparkstrings without even trying.
At the feel of small fingers gently placed against her chasis her engines give out a happy little purr, what can she say, it’s a weakness of hers. In return she smooths large hands down his sides to calm ruffled plating and sooth any worry.
A small huff of laughter escapes her, breaking her professional veneer. “Ya can help me by drinking this,” she waggles a small cube of fuel in his line of sight. “When was the last time ya ate or had a break? A proper break that is.” Arching her optic ridge and giving him a pointed look.
Still on autopilot in order to circumvent his confusion, Spinflask takes the cube, suddenly aware of his own hunger. It’s not strong, never strong, his frame has long since learned that a strong hunger signal never makes a difference, but he’s hungry. So he opens the cube, and he takes a sip, pondering the question. It’s a difficult one, mostly because he doesn’t know what constitutes a “proper” break.
Hazarding a guess, he shrugs and murmurs “I recharged with Duo last night, it was pleasant”, not quite making optic contact with Shard. That counts, right? Time spent with them? It almost always involves either recharge or further work, but it’s enjoyable.
And it’s the only break he ever wants. Not working, alone, leaves him alone with nothing to distract his thoughts. And they’re never… never friendly thoughts. The sort of thoughts that turn him back to chemistry, but this time to make a new stash of his preferred purple-dyed emetic. Duo don’t like him doing that, and he does hate to disappoint them or risk them getting upset, but he either needs to drown out the thoughts or temporarily silence them. That does both.
Not that he’s going to tell Shard about it. She’s concerned, certainly not going to respond well to… whatever that counts as. Nor does he want to go into the details of exactly why he deserves that and more. She’s going to be a lot less friendly if she finds out what he’s done, and he likes the friendliness.
Shaking the thoughts out of his helm for now, Spinflask takes exactly his second sip of the energon, looking down and away from Shard. He doesn’t make much optic contact under most circumstances, but he’s downright avoiding it now, uncomfortable with his… attempt at deception. He needs to explain himself, he knows, but he can’t go into too much detail.
“I… don’t do well idle. And I like Duo, they- they’re a good break. If… a bit tiring sometimes. Don’t- don’t tell them I said that, they’re- they’re sweet, they really are, they’re just very energetic.”
And they are. Primus they are. He adores them, they’re so sweet, he just about loves them, but they- well, they’re tiring sometimes. Good for recharging with, though. Warm. And they curl so gently around him, they fit.
At this point, I shouldn’t be surprised that my dad’s friends are Very Weird, but this guy has a long waist-length white beard, looked me up and down while I was stretching, and said, “Wow, you have the body type for speleology! I’ve got connections. Tell me…. are you interested in working for the NPS?”
I have to say, if a weird old man is going to make unprompted comments about my body, comparing me to a cave salamander and offering a job reference to the park service is the best possible scenario.
That guy sounds like the good type of weird old dude.
Honestly, as a German I can not quite understand the obsession of the English speaking world with the question whether a word exists or not. If you have to express something for which there is no word, you have to make a new one, preferably by combining well-known words, and in the very same moment it starts to exist. Agree?
Deutsche Freunde, could you please create for me a word for the extreme depression I feel when I bend down to pick up a piece of litter and discover two more pieces of litter?
um = around
die Welt = world
die Umwelt = environment
ver = prefix to indicate something difficult or negative, a change that leads to deterioration or even destruction that is difficult to reverse or to undo, or a strong negative change of the mental state of a person
der Müll = garbage, trash, rubbish, litter
-ung = -ing
die Vermüllung = littering
ver- = see before
zweifeln = to doubt
-ung = see before
die Verzweiflung = despair, exasperation, desperation
die Umweltvermüllungsverzweiflung = …
This is a german compound on the spot master class and I am LIVING
I really don’t know… I know the shelter I used to work for would occasionally end up with fish, but not often. Maybe check out craigslist for someone rehoming theirs for free (or low cost if it comes with a setup?) so you know you’re not supporting bad breeding or a bad habit? Hopefully my followers will have some ideas to help you out!
Craigslist is a good idea. Just try not to get too mad at the people who are wanting to get rid of a betta in a tiny bowl. Smile, be polite, and take the betta home to give it proper conditions.
french recipes: if you’re not making this in paris then what’s the point. fuck you
italian recipes: use the left leg meat of a pig from one of three farms in this specific area of tuscany, or from this day my grandmother will begin manifesting physically in your house
american recipes: buy these three cans of stuff and put them in a pan congrats you cooked
chinese recipes, as handed down from mother to child: season it with a pinch of this and some of that. you want to know the exact amount? feel it in your heart. ask the stars. yell into the void.
English recipes: boil and salt it. Okay that’s it enjoy
Greek recipes: You followed all the right steps but this isn’t quite right. I don’t know what to tell you.
Australia recipes: chuck it on the barbie
Latinx recipes: you will never make it better than your abuela, face the facts
Armenian recipes: spend eight days laboring over the stove. the food will be flavorful with the sacrifice of your sanity. no one will appreciate it.
Canadian recipes: It either needs more bacon, more maple syrup, more gravy, or an unholy combination of the three
Polish recipes: you have to toUCH THE DOUGH, FEEL THE PIEROGI IN YOUR HEART, TOUCH IT. LICK IT. SMELL IT.
Every time I see this post, I learn more about how different countries’ cuisines AND neuroses.
Indian recipes: there are 500 cuisines and that means 500 versions of this dish that has 500 spices so gl
ashki jewish recipes: no, no. no. more onion.
internet recipes: here is a heartwarming story about my baby sister’s third birthday that i completely made up, and a copypaste from alton brown.
Bring us your favourite foods from home and we’ll throw it in a pie and serve it with tomato sauce, with some peas and mashed spuds on the side if we’re feeling fancy. Or just grab a plain old steak pie if you’re feeling boring.
Texas recipes: put it on the GRILL and put SPICES on it and then serve AN ENTIRE PLATTER PER PERSON because EVERYTHING’S BIGGER IN TEXAS!!!
(said grill may or may not be shaped like a longhorn cow. No, I’m not joking.)