#possibly his best burn ever which is a steep competition

[intothestarkerverse]

hi, so I would like to request a starker prompt where its about the mummy au! where peter is eve, tony is rick, scott is jonathan (why not) the mummy is thanos, anu-san-mun is death. I just love the mummy and the avengers.

Summary:  So I have chosen to go for the trifecta here!  What follows is a Mummy AU for my lovely Nonnie...a Non Powered AU for @starkerweek, and a Protective!Tony Bingo Square fill for @starkerbingo . 

Non Powered AU  - Starker Week (Day Two)

Protective!Tony - Starker Bingo

1.

The only downside to all of this was that he wasn’t going to get to see Howard’s face when he heard the news.

Well…actually, there were multiple downsides to this, like dying and the rat that was trying to chew through what remained of his shoe leather…but really, it was the whole Howard thing he was most concerned with at the moment.  He’d been livid when Tony turned his back on the family fortune and his bright future to join the French Foreign Legion.  Tony’d lied when he said he was out for adventure.  Oh no, primarily, he was out to piss off Howard and possibly stumble into enough treasure to be able to return home wealthier than his old man…because honestly, that would feel good.

Being hanged in an Egyptian prison wasn’t actually one of the ways he thought this was going to end, but in retrospect, he probably should have realized it was a distinct possibility given his life choices.

Tony rested his forehead on his knees and tried to ignore the sweltering heat, the bugs skittering over his hands on the ground, the loud arguments erupting around the prison beyond his cell door, all of them in loudly spoken Arabic that he could only barely comprehend.  His head was splitting.  It was a shame the prison guards weren’t more sympathetic to a man’s hangover.  He needed water.  Or better yet, a little hair of the dog.  The likelihood of him getting either one was…well, it was slim to say the least.

The sound of footsteps stopping at his cell door surprised him.  Was it time to die already?  He hadn’t even fully finished imagining Howard’s reaction to the news!  “Hey, boys, I guess it’s true what they say about time flying…”  His words were interrupted as he was forced to his feet and dragged out of his cell.  Not towards the gallows, though.  Towards the visiting cells? Who was visiting him?

God, had Howard found him?  Was he about to be rescued by his bastard of a father and taken home to New York, because if he was…he’d rather hang, to be frank.

He was cast without ceremony onto a patch of ground surrounded by iron bars.  Pulling himself up with a grimace, his gaze settled on two figures that did not appear to belong at an Egyptian prison.  Men.  English men if he could hazard a guess based on their wardrobe and the rather stuffy way in which they carried themselves.  English men always had posture like someone had rammed a rod up their ass.

Speaking of ramming something up someone’s ass…

The little one was pretty damn cute.  Soft chestnut curls just visible beneath his sun hat, tiny wire rimmed glasses perched on a pert little nose, plump pink lips that he kept wetting with the tip of his tongue as he stared, wide eyed at Tony through the bars.  He was pretty.  Prettier than the girls back home in New York.  Prettier even than the woman he’d taken to bed the night before…the one who had him facing his death in what was likely a very short time.  Hell, if he’d met this pretty little thing last night instead of the thieving piece of shit accompanying him, Tony would have probably given him the trinket and still be back at his room in the boarding house taking the boy apart instead of swinging from the end of a rope.  The boy seemed to shake himself out of his stupor and stepped forward with a nervous smile.  “Oh, hello, pardon me, I don’t mean to be rude.  You just…you are not what I was expecting at all.”

The little one had a soft tone and a proper English accent that made Tony want to live long enough to hear that gentile voice reduced to a rasping, cursing wail of pure desire…

“Is it true that you know the way to Hamunaptra?”

Wait.  What?  “Hamun…I should have known.” He was never lucky enough to have a piece of ass that fine thrown his way without some kind of caveat.  “Yeah, baby, I can take you to the City of the Dead.  But I might beat you there since I’m about to be hanged…you get me out of here, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Hopefully down on him was going to be at least one stop before their final destination.

The boy looked alarmed, turning to cast a look at the man who had accompanied him, hopefully not a lover…though given the look of the guy, he’d be no competition for Tony anyway.  “Well, I…I don’t know.  That does seem to be quite a predicament…”

Tony laughed, “Yeah, you could say that. But I promise you’ll like me better alive than dead, sweetheart.”  Reaching through the bars he grabbed a handful of that starched white shirt and tugged the boy closer until he could just reach his lips through the bars.  He was a little up tight, but he was English.  Tony had been anticipating that.  He tasted like honey and lemon and after a moment’s hesitation seemed to relax into the kiss, letting Tony tease his lips apart with his tongue and delve deep into the moist recesses before he pulled away with a growl.  

Flushed pink, lips swollen, the boy straightened his cravat and cleared his throat.  “I…um…I’ll see what I can do, shall I?”

2.

“Ugh, to think I ever found that scoundrel attractive!”  Peter grimaced at his own reflection, dropping the fingers he’d had pressed to  his lips.  He really had been stupid to think that the kiss meant anything to the American.  Tony was a dying man desperate to live and he had done anything necessary to prolong his miserable life.

Like a fool, Peter had fallen right into his trap.

“You are far too intelligent for this, Peter.  Chin up, old chap.  You can ignore that American pig long enough to find the Book of Amun-Ra and then you never have to see him again.”

So what if he was rakishly good looking?  Peter hadn’t thought so in prison, but Tony’s hair had been long and his beard had been unkempt and he’d smelled of wet camel and alcohol.  When they had met at the docks later and Tony had presented himself with cleaned and trimmed hair and a goatee so masterfully groomed that Peter was half tempted to ask if he’d found a barber to have it professionally done, Peter had to admit that the man was perhaps the most handsome one he had ever set eyes on.  The kiss…the kiss had been positively sinful, but apparently that devil hadn’t felt the same way.

Well.  Peter didn’t need him anyway.  He was an academic!  He had books and brains and that ruffian was probably going to wind up swinging from another rope the moment they parted company.  Best not to lose sleep over him.

One moment Peter was dressing for bed and the next he was facing the end of a pistol in the hand of a strange man in desert garb with facial tattoos that Peter could almost just begin to decipher.  “Oh dear!  Can I help you? I think you have the wrong room…”

“Where is the map?”

Peter grimaced as the barrel of the gun was pushed into his chest.  “Over on the desk.”

“And the key?”

“Key?  I don’t have a key…”  Peter’s confusion was interrupted by the sound of his door splintering.  There, standing in the rubble of the ruined entry was the very scoundrel he had been disavowing only a moment prior.  He looked resplendent with a gun in either hand, a look of determination on the chiseled features of his too handsome face and his once carefully coiffed dark hair falling in haphazard strands across his forehead.  

“Let the kid go.”

Peter’s gaze was ripped from his rescuer only long enough to glimpse the second attacker attempting to enter through the porthole.  Apparently, Tony too saw that figure and released a volley of bullets.  Really, Peter had never seen anything quite as inherently masculine and impressive as Tony Stark facing off against his attackers.  Never mind that now the boat was on fire and there seemed to be a great many more of the men in black than just the two that had been attempting to infiltrate his cabin.   He didn’t even have a thought to spare for his brother, to wonder where on earth Scott was and if he had gotten free of the ship.

At least, not until they had dragged themselves up onto the shore of the Nile and Peter was watching everything on the ship burn.  He shivered in the night air and bemoaned the loss of his clothes, his books, his tools…although, he didn’t mind the look that Tony was giving him as the American’s dark eyes raked over the thin, wet night clothes that clung to his skin…

3.

“What was that about nothing bad ever coming from reading a book?”

Peter cast the man a weary look.  “Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

Tony just snorted and grabbed Peter’s arm, jerking him sideways down an alley and a steep but short descent of stairs.  “Okay, so he’s whole and he’s got the book and we’re basically screwed.  We gotta keep you away from him.”

“That is a plan I do rather like, I have to admit.”  Peter let a little whoosh of breath as he was knocked backward into a wall and pressed firmly there by Tony’s rock solid form.  Eyebrows raised, he opened his mouth to question the move, but a hand was pressed against his lips and Peter followed Tony’s gaze to the mouth of the alley where a mass of entranced slaves were beginning to trickle by.  Peter’s eyes widened, but he didn’t make a sound.

As the final stragglers in the crowd edged by, Peter and Tony left the safety of the alley and attempted to race across the square to the next thoroughfare on their way out of the city.  They were stopped by the undulating mass of insects that descended from the sky and formed a living, writhing curtain in front of them.

Peter gulped audibly, following the voice to face the now regenerated and empowered Thanos.  He was large and frightening and ugly.  The boy could not help but grimace, hands trembling slightly at his side.

“Leave the kid alone.”  Tony stepped in front of him.  Dear, sweet, brave Tony.  He had underestimated the American.  He wasn’t a scoundrel.  He was a hero.  A true hero like one from novels and fairy stories.  Peter had no doubt that he would die to protect him from Thanos if that was what it took, but he really didn’t want to see that exquisite example of the human condition die because of him.  It seemed such a waste.  He was, after all, just a librarian and it did not seem that his feelings for the man were at all reciprocated.

Breaking away, Peter moved to join Thanos, his gaze meeting Tony’s for a moment as he passed him.  They were outnumbered.  Thanos had the upper hand.  They couldn’t fight him and succeed.  Not here.  They needed the book of Amun-Ra and one of them had to be alive and free in order to fetch it.  “I have to do this…but…I’m not saying you can’t rescue me if you’d like.  In fact I’d much prefer that actually…if you feel up to it, that is.”

The last thing Peter saw as he was spirited away by the resurrected Thanos was the look of sheer determination on Tony’s face.

Maybe he did have feelings for Peter after all…

4.

It took extreme physical effort on Tony’s part to hold himself back, to formulate some kind of a plan…even a half-assed one, as he took in the sight of Peter chained to a platform alongside a female mummy that had to be the ugly guy’s girlfriend.  Great.  Just great.

Scott had the book.  Scott had been behind him a moment ago but had either been detained or was too cowardly to enter the antechamber with Thanos and the brunt of his legion.

Well, Scott might be a coward, but there was no way in hell that Tony was going to let Thanos sacrifice Peter to bring his girlfriend the rest of the way back from the dead. So, he didn’t have guns.  He’d ran out of ammunition and lost the pistols themselves several mummy hordes ago.  All he had, in fact, was a sword he’d taken from a statue and his own stubborn will to reclaim the boy whose body he hadn’t even gotten to taste yet.

The kid could not die a virgin.  He was way too pretty to die a virgin, and he had to be a virgin.  Stuffy British boy like that…his kiss at the jail had probably been his first one.

Okay, enough planning.  Sometimes, you just had to wing it.

With a yell, he raced from the shadows with the sword held high, swinging wildly at the undead who swarmed towards him, breaking through enough to snap the chain on one of Peter’s wrists before he was pulled back into battle once more.  He wished his movements were a little more refined.  Maybe if he’d taken fencing like his father had wanted.  As it was, he was chopping at the dessicated figures sloppily, watching as pieces of mummy rained down around them and tried to rejoin the fray with whatever means they possessed.  A few disembodied feet were wiggling in the sand, hands crawling like spiders in search of something useful, heads chomping at the empty air.

A scream tore Tony’s attention away from his foes to the dais and the still semi-restrained figure of Peter.  The boy was desperately trying to pull his free arm loose of the chains while the female mummy crawled up his body with a dagger in her hand.

“Leave.  My.  Boy.  Alone.”  Tony broke away from the pack, racing the distance between himself and the Englishman who had stolen his heart.  He dived for the mummy, his head connecting with her chest and throwing them both over the side into the sand as he swung the sword against that last bit of chain to free Peter’s other hand.

“So I’m your boy, now, am I?  I don’t recall having agreed to that…”

“Are we really going to argue semantics now, baby?”  Tony dodged a strike from the mummy and her blade.  “Get that golden book of yours from your cowardly brother in the other room and let’s end this before they end us, hm?  Then I can show you why you really do want to be my boy, Peter.  By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me…”

“I.  Do.  Not.  Beg.”

“We’ll see.”

“Hmph, we do have to survive this first, you know.”

“Right, so go get the book already!”

“So bossy,”  Peter turned up his nose at the man but still raced back towards the entrance, dodging the writhing parts of fallen mummies as he went.

Tony was just reaching the end of his rope.  There were far too many of these dried out defenders of Thanos and it didn’t help that even when he thought he’d killed them…some part of them came back with a vengeance.  The girl was another problem all together.  If he looked away from her for even a moment, she tried to follow after Peter and he had to charge after her.  “How many times I gotta tell you, lady, the boy is mine?”

He was losing steam.  He didn’t know how long he was going to be able to keep this up.  Truthfully, he might have given up a couple dozen foes ago were it not for the the stodgy little English rose he was trying so desperately to save.

“I’ve got it!  I’ve got it!”  Peter’s voice shouted from the entry and Tony cursed as he dived for the girl again, grabbing her heal and jerking her off of her feet before she could race at Peter and bury the dagger in his chest.  Tony hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him and suddenly surrounded by a swarm of the disembodied parts of the mummies he had slain.

“Read it, Peter, for God’s sake, read it!”

“Oh, right, yes…”  He slammed the book against the wall, hefting it’s heavy cover open and began searching the golden pages for the proper inscription.

Thanos waved the mummy parts away from Tony with a motion of his hand.  He’d found another one of those daggers like his girlfriend.  He was holding it tightly in his fist and looking at Tony in a way that reminded him way too much of Howard.  Disapproval and disappointment.  His two best friends.  Tony’s fingers closed around the hilt of his sword on the sand, determined to go out fighting for Peter if not for himself.

Peter’s voice rang out loud and clear through the chamber.  Thanos seemed to pause, real fear in his eyes as a  phantasm of ghostly light passed over the room.  But when it was gone, Thanos was still there and he still looked prepared to kill Tony.

“Peter…that didn’t work.”

“It should have worked!”

“It didn’t work.”  Tony grimaced at the figure as he bent over him, dagger poised to strike.  

“Tony?  Tony…no…”

Peter’s strangled cry of alarm was enough to snap Tony’s focus back into place.  He lashed out, kicking the figure with both legs and attacking with his sword.  It was only when the blade had buried itself in the other man’s gut and Tony was covered in blood and thicker, more nauseating things, that he called out a choked.  “Yeah, no, I was wrong.  It totally worked…”

5.

How many people got to lose their virginity in the Egyptian city of the dead to a man who had nearly died to save him?  Not many, Peter would wager.

“Does this I mean I get to keep you…or am I just one in a long line of conquests?”

Tony propped himself up on an arm to regard the boy with a playful smirk.  “You really think I’d go to this much trouble for a conquest?  You’re real pretty, Peter Parker, and the sounds you make when I fuck you are a thing of beauty…but I’d have never gone this far to save someone unless I intended to ‘keep them’.”

“Oh, well that really is too bad, Tony, because as I recall…if anyone is to be property and possessor in this relationship, I do believe that I am to be the one keeping you.”

Tony rolled his eyes but leaned down to peck Peter’s lips once, twice, three times.  “You know what, Kid, that’s just fine by me.”

“Splendid!  Have you ever been to South America, Tony?  I have heard from other scholars that they have mummies there too…”

Tony covered Peter’s mouth with a hand and propped himself up again.  “Scott!  Scott!  I know you’re somewhere around here. Scott, come take your brother back.  I’ve changed my mind.  I want to give him back…”

Squirming free of Tony’s hold, Peter let out an exasperated sigh.  “Oh you!”

[tkmedia]

If He Chooses To Retire, Manny Pacquiao Can Walk Away With Dignity

For over two decades, Manny Pacquiao has been the measuring stick for any fighter in his chosen weight class. By definition, having held world titles in the 1990s, 2000s, 2010s and 2020s across eight weight classes, that has been the case. Even when he’s had true contemporaries, namely Floyd Mayweather, there was never certainty about their status until they beat Pacquiao. (photo by Ryan Hafey) Even into the 2020s, the best welterweights du jour, Errol Spence and Terence Crawford, both wanted their chance to fight Pacquiao not just for the prestige it would afford them, but because even at 40 years of age, he was still just a little too much for Keith Thurman, who was at that time in the discussion for world’s best welterweight along with them.  After Saturday night’s loss to Yordenis Ugas, a late replacement for Spence, who was originally scheduled to face Pacquiao before a retinal injury was discovered in a pre-fight checkup, that luster may finally be gone.  Prior to the bout, Pacquiao’s trainer Freddie Roach described Ugas as “an ordinary fighter,” and expressed no concern about facing him on ten days’ notice. Ugas is of course not ordinary in the grand scheme of things, he’s one of the sport’s top welterweights, but when you’re handling a fighter as great as Pacquiao, it’s understandable for your perception to be a bit skewed. Relative to Pacquiao, most fighters in boxing history are “ordinary.” Until this past Saturday, with the exception of a fluky and controversial loss to Jeff Horn, Pacquiao has only ever taken losses to the sport’s absolute best, fighters who like him were headed for Canastota. Pacquiao still firmly believed he could beat Errol Spence at 42 years of age, so he understandably felt Ugas would be no issue for him.  In practice, Ugas presented all of the wrong problems for Pacquiao. Ugas was physically bigger, taller and longer. More importantly though, he was composed, judiciously throwing accurate shots and resisting the urge to bite on Pacquiao’s feints.  Hand and foot feints were but empty threats on this night, because most problematic for Pacquiao was the noticeable lack of movement and foot speed. It’s an issue he acknowledged at the post-fight press conference. “I’m not saying this is my excuse but my two legs were cramping. That’s why I (couldn't) move around," said Pacquiao. “In my early days, I (could) easily move and outbox him. This time around, it’s like my two legs were tight and hurting me in the second round until the 12th round. I’m not making excuses but that’s the reason why I can’t move.” According to CompuBox’s Dan Canobbio, Ugas landed 59 per cent of his power shots, the most ever landed by a Pacquiao opponent. Pacquiao landed 16 per cent of his total punches, the lowest tally of his career, and for perspective, three per cent less accurate than he was against Mayweather (19%). Although the boxing community will spend the week eulogizing Pacquiao, a few things should be made clear. Even being competitive with Ugas at the age of 42, as a man who started his career at 112 pounds, is still incredibly impressive. For him to have thrown over 800 punches in a bout at this age proves once again that he is an athletic marvel. And although his legs seemingly betrayed him, brought about as he speculated by overtraining, that shows that he is a marvel when it comes to determination too. For a sitting, influential politician who is also over a decade past cementing his Hall of Fame status to have the drive to over train in the first place confirms the assessment we all had watching Pacquiao in his prime, smiling as he engaged in legendary wars, that this is a man who has a burning love of boxing on a deeper level, and no amount of fame, power or money has ever extinguished that flame.  The question will become whether Pacquiao is okay with either a) Becoming purely a name attraction who hand picks lesser opponents, or follow the trend of facing foes from other disciplines like Conor McGregor without concern about his ranking in the sport as a competitor, or b) Merely being a good to very good, but no longer great fighter who potentially loses to other very good welterweights, as he did on Saturday.  Nothing in his past has suggested that either of those paths would be satisfactory for him. He did entertain the idea of a McGregor bout, but he did so while also hunting for bouts with actual elite boxers. Pacquiao’s intention in the sport has always been to be the very best, and up until a few days ago, he hadn’t encountered a satisfactory reason to convince him that was no longer possible. Pacquiao has aged more gracefully than almost any fighter in history. In his later years, he might have been a touch slower, a tad less busy in certain fights, but even a weathered version of Pacquiao was better than other top welterweights into his 40s. That likely is no longer the case, and unlike in team sports, there is no way to mask or account for a steep decline in production in the ring. Aging legends in other sports, like Miguel Cabrera of the MLB’s Detroit Tigers, can still produce in his twilight years with lowered expectations and hitters in the lineup around him to pick up the slack. In boxing, a decline leads to losses to less and less talented fighters, and to further physical damage. Neither of those things are what anyone wants to see for Pacquiao. As I wrote in 2019, for fans who are around 23 years of age, there has never been a time in their lifetime in which Pacquiao was not either a world champion or a top contender for one of the world titles. And for fans of any age who have been immersed in the sport during his reign, his bouts have been signpost events in their lives as fans or their careers as journalists. Media members save their Pacquiao fight credentials, several writers even tweeted their collections over the weekend. You remember where you were when Manny fought, because for a very long time, his have been among the biggest fights of the year, the mainstream appeal fights that your non-boxing fan friends ask you about and might even come over to watch with you. Whether you cheered for him or against him on a given night, he brought us happiness, excitement and a feeling of pride about our sport a couple times every year.  Those are the memories the boxing community should want to keep, untarnished by a sad, dangerous decline into mediocrity or worse. Saturday’s loss to Ugas is nothing to be ashamed of. A competitive fight against a top contender he didn’t have to face, if anything, it was demonstrative of Pacquiao’s take on all challengers approach, even in the years of his career in which he could have been more selective.  If Pacquiao chooses to walk away now, he can do so with dignity, one final thing he can accomplish that so many other fighters were never able to.   Read the full article

[notconsolation]

could you answer....every number that isnt a prime number?

WHELP OKAY you masochist

1: Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed?

I will answer this with respect to the water closet, which is the only closet I have ever had that has doors. In that case: open, because my cat likes to wander in and sit on the sink around midnight

4: Have you ever stolen a street sign before?

No, but I do have a license plate that did not begin its life as mine

6: Do you cut out coupons but then never use them?

Nope

8: Do you have freckles?

In the summer, yes, I live for them.

9: Do you always smile for pictures?

No

10: What is your biggest pet peeve?

people who try to offer help and solutions after I’ve specifically said i just need to rant at them. i get the impulse but i literally told you not to. please. please don’t.

12: Have you ever peed in the woods?

Is this Hozier’s kink

14: Do you ever dance even if theres no music playing?

Depends on your definition of dancing

15: Do you chew your pens and pencils?

Nahhhh man

16: How many people have you slept with this week?

None but I’m going out tomorrow night so there’s time yet (there’s not time yet)

18: What is your Song of the week?

Hard Times (paramore)

19: Is it okay for guys to wear pink?

Why is this a question???

20: Do you still watch cartoons?

Rick and Morty

21: Whats your least favorite movie?

I want to say the Happening, but I love to hate it so….

22: Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some?

I SEE THROUGH YOUR ASK MEMES. THE TREASURE IS MINE, CONTESSA VAN NEURENSTEIN, AND YOUE EVIL CRONIES HAVE NO CHANCE

24: What do you dip a chicken nugget in?

Sadness

25: What is your favorite food?

good god. sorrel today, nutella tomorrow and sashimi the day after that

26: What movies could you watch over and over and still love?

Princess Bride, singing in the rain, star wars original trilogy, lord of the rings trilogy, these are all i can think of right now

27: Last person you kissed/kissed you?

Don’t know his name

28: Were you ever a boy/girl scout?

I was very briefly a Pfadfinder, which is sort of equivalent? Just long enough to sail from Estonia to Latvia on a pirate style ship

30: When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper?

Ooh well I have friend in New York that I wrote a postcard to a few months ago if that counts

32: Ever gotten a speeding ticket?

Can’t drive

33: Ever ran out of gas?

Can.t. vroom,, vroom

34: Favorite kind of sandwich?

rucola anything with rucola

35: Best thing to eat for breakfast?

Coffee. Whole coffee beans.

36: What is your usual bedtime?

Well I spend a lot of the day in bed sometimes so this is hard to gauge

38: When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween?

Ehhh I think a witch? But also there was a memorable time when I dressed up as a very effeminate Italian man with mascara for chest hair and toilet paper tied around my neck as a mini scarf

39: What is your Chinese astrological sign?

Tiger

40: Are you horny?

*checks the direction of the wind* face southwest and try again

42: Which are better legos or lincoln logs?

Wtf are Lincoln logs

44: Who is better…Leno or Letterman?

Linoleum laminate

45: Ever watch soap operas?

TelenovNo

46: Are you afraid of heights?

Nope, I embrace the vertigo. I do however hate hate hatehatehate going up or down steep hills in cars

48: Do you sing in the shower?

Beat iitttt beat it (no I don’t actually)

49: Do you dance in the car?

hOW?!?!

50: Ever used a gun?

No.

51: Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

Well I mean do ultrasounds count

52: Do you think musicals are cheesy?

Yes but I don’t hate all of them

54: Ever eat a pierogi?

Da

55: Favorite type of fruit pie?

I’m gonna go ahead and count Apfelstrudel as fruit pie. Can’t actually think of any other fruit pie I’ve ever had though

56: Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

Something in the circus. I didn’t much care what.

57: Do you believe in ghosts?

Nope sorry I kind of wish I did

58: Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

Not exactly but I have sometimes had dreams that are just normal regular days and I wake up and go about my day until I remember the dream but I’m not sure if it actually was just a day that week or a dream and that feels a little like deja vu but I realize now that I’m talking about it that it’s actually completely different whoops

60: Wear slippers?

Barefoot and wild is how you’ll find me

62: What do you wear to bed?

Whatever t shirt/tank top I have around and some underwear. But um a lot of the time….. nothing

63: First concert?

Coldplay

64: Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?

Never been to any of them but I recently found out that Walmart owns asda, which I go to sometimes, so I guess Walmart?

65: Nike or Adidas?

I have an old adidas hat but I don’t know what that means

66: Cheetos Or Fritos?

Chester is a sad mascot, children clap your hands and believe to make him happy again

68: Ever hear of the group Tres Bien?

Tres non

69: Ever take dance lessons?

Tres tres non

70: Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

@joncantsleep what do you feel like doing

72: Ever won a spelling bee?

This is a PSA for those of you who don’t know: spelling bees don’t actually happen outside of North America. German is a very spelling-friendly language, too

74: Own any record albums?

Sadly, no. Lots of cds though

75: Own a record player?

Nope

76: Regularly burn incense?

no, but my mother does, so it does feel like home when i smell it

77: Ever been in love?

              Mutuals

78: Who would you like to see in concert?

21p at! the chemical badland disco!!! but honestly so many people. top of the list are Hozier and TOP

80: Hot tea or cold tea?

hot, you philistine

81: Tea or coffee?

“coffee” she whispers in the dead of night, when the brits around can’t hear her

82: Sugar or snickerdoodles?

neither? but i like cinnamon

84: Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

there are? people who can?t do this??

85: Are you patient?

I’ll wait and see

86: DJ or band, at a wedding?

band. my own. mango headache.

87: Ever won a contest?

I think possibly some writing ones? i got language awards all through high school but i don’t think that was a competition

88: Ever have plastic surgery?

No I’m okay with the form of carbon that currently makes up my face for the most part

90: Can you knit or crochet?

no, i would be of little to no use as a wife in the 1600s scottish highlands

91: Best room for a fireplace?

a cold one

92: Do you want to get married?

well Jon and I are already married but face to face nope relationships are Not. My. Thing.

93: If married, how long have you been married?

O feel like a bad wife but i don’t know our anniversary help please

94: Who was your HS crush?

a teacher. don’t tell. tumblr dot com i am trusting you to keep my secrets

95: Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way?

I was about to say I grew out of that but I don’t think I ever did it much as a child in the first place

96: Do you have kids?

Hard limit reached

98: Whats your favorite color?

I like grey-blue

99: Do you miss anyone right now?

My cat

[luckylq61-blog]

The laugh lines creasing your eyes are more pronounced

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