Anna Kendrick, Life upon the wicked stage,
Anna Kendrick, Life upon the wicked stage,
(and finally, the end. 8) )
He felt like he’d been hit by a truck.
Phil opened his eyes, and it hurt more than it should have. Gritting his teeth against a spike of pain behind his temples, he struggled to get his eyes to focus. He regretted it immediately.
Phil did a quick recalculation. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck, and he had no idea where he was. Or why there was what appeared to be a very small foot tucked under his chin. He stared at it, trying to force his eyes to focus on the little foot and the kid attached to it, who was mostly a purplish blur.
“Good morning, Agent Coulson. How are you feeling?”
“Well, that answers one question,” Phil said, putting a hand over his eyes and squeezing, trying to keep his eyeballs in place. “I’m in the Tower. And DJ is wearing Hawkeye pajamas. I’ve been better, Jarvis. Where, exactly, in the tower, am I?”
“In the net in DJ’s playroom. Do you have any memory of the past twenty-four hours?”
Phil stopped. Thought about that. Tilted his head to the side to consider the floor of the playroom, a long way below them. “You mean, do I have any memory of how I ended up asleep in DJ’s playroom? No. No, I do not.”
Is this related to the headcanon that Phil’s Mom being Helen Mirren from RED. Cuz that is who I am picturing.
- Bucky and Steve having box set evenings, just streaming entire seasons of GOT, marathoning the entirety of Star Wars (4,5,1,2,3,6, because Bucky had looked it up on the internet), getting pissed that Firefly was cancelled when they went looking for the rest of the…
(grin) Because here we are, contumaciously posting and reblogging while over 30. (Or 20. Or 15.)
Reblog, if you like, and display with pride.
ETA: Here’s another version of the graphic for those who prefer something a little subtler.
Reblogging because I am, indeed, an old fart on Tumblr and we need to find each other!
Yeah, this is me…
Yep. WELL over 30.
The real reason Bucky didn’t recognize Steve until he’d beat his face in.
That was my first job ever! I was in L.A. for like a year and a half…I very strong-willed, and very pig-headed, so I had three goals when I went down there, to make me feel like “I did it.” I wanted to be in a film. I wanted to be in a film that was big enough to play in my small hometown so my family could see it. And I wanted it to be a role that was large enough that I didn’t have to explain what role I was playing, like “I’m the guy in the red shirt.” So I ended up getting a lead in this movie, and it is what it is, it’s a bit of a cult film that some people love. Do I love it? I don’t regret it, I mean, it was an amazing experience for me to do, for my first job. I remember kissing the ground after my agent said “You’re going to Toronto for 8 weeks.” I just started crying!
"This isn’t a legitimate classification system," said Steve angrily, throwing the book onto the couch next to Clint. "This is bullshit. They’re children, for cripe’s sake.”
Clint’s eyebrows rose to comical levels.
"You can’t just isolate different children or—or— or try to predetermine their characters at age eleven," Steve said, thoroughly angry. "And you certainly can’t condemn an entire fourth of your school’s population to a villainy house, what the hell is that?”
He started to pace.
"As if people never change! As if there’s no moral or ethical growth after age eleven!”
Bucky reached over Clint and picked up the book. Clint gave him a look and he shrugged.
"Hell, if it makes Steve this angry, I gotta check it out," he explained.
"This isn’t a basis for education!" Bucky shouted. "Where are the art classes, huh? Kids this age should have access to art classes."
"Exactly!" shouted Steve. "Maybe a little less institutionalized racism and a little more arts education, am I right?"
Clint buried his head in his hands.
GODDAMN BIANCA HOW YOU GONNA COMMIT THIS MURDER ON NATIONAL TELEVISION
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