last time, i swear
i decided to move barnes over to my technically new multi located here. some drafts may be moved over, but also not likely. feel free to follow me over, otherwise, <3

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@russianmade
last time, i swear
i decided to move barnes over to my technically new multi located here. some drafts may be moved over, but also not likely. feel free to follow me over, otherwise, <3
last time, i swear
i decided to move barnes over to my technically new multi located here. some drafts may be moved over, but also not likely. feel free to follow me over, otherwise, <3
“I enjoy being cuffed as much as the next guy,” he began, words slow but with mild agitation clearly behind each one, his hands turning in the restraints to test them. Obviously given via SHIELD. “But you better have a good reason for this, Belova.”
Or I’ll slit your throat went unsaid.
@rightfulwidow gets a thingy-do
&. ARGUING STARTERS.
“i can’t believe you.”
“are you serious?”
“we’re not finished. i’m not just going to let this go.”
“so you don’t trust me?”
“fuck you.”
“you know me! and the fact that you still think i’d do that hurts the most.”
“i miss the old you. i don’t want the person you’ve become.”
“you never understand.”
“you said the same thing last time.”
“i’m so tired of constantly doing this with you.”
“you don’t even try to see it from my perspective.”
“i’m not apologizing.”
“hell if i care.”
“this is fucking bullshit.”
“why are you always the one who’s breaking my heart?”
“i can’t do this anymore.”
“you don’t mean that.”
“i hate you.”
“you never keep your promises.”
“out of all the things you’ve told me, what was true?”
“i can’t even look at you.”
“do you even love me anymore?”
“i’m fucking done.”
“i shouldn’t have ever trusted you.”
“you’re being unfair.”
“i’m not going to keep being your little secret. i deserve better.”
“i’m leaving.”
“just… just go.”
“i thought you’d be the one to make me happy.”
“you don’t even pretend to care about me.”
“i don’t even remember the last time you told me you loved me.”
“don’t go.”
“i never asked for this.”
@truesymphony
THE EXCESSIVELY DETAILED HEADCANON TUMBLR MEME
Send me some numbers, and I will tell you:
What does their bedroom look like?
Do they have any daily rituals?
Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?
What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?
Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)
Eating habits and sample daily menu
Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time
Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging
Makeup?
Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?
Intellectual pursuits?
Favorite book genre?
Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?
Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)
Biggest and smallest short term goal?
Biggest and smallest long term goal?
Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress
Favorite beverage?
What do they think about before falling asleep at night?
Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?
Turn-ons? Turn-offs?
Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?
How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?
Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?
How do they see themselves 5 years from today?
Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?
What is their biggest regret?
Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?
Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)
Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)
Most prized possession?
Thoughts on material possessions in general?
Concept of home and family?
Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)
What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?
What makes them feel guilty?
Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?
Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?
What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?
Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?
How misanthropic are they?
Hobbies?
How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?
Religion?
Superstitions or views on the occult?
Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?
If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?
How do they express love?
If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?
Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?
im permanently emotionally damaged but it’s chill, I’m chill
Chris Evans as Steve Rogers in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) dir. Russo Brothers
@russianmade continued from here.
There were so many things she wanted to say. So Many things she could say, and yet none of it felt right. None of it felt good enough. No matter what she said it would never really cover how she felt. Hell she really didn’t understand it all to begin with.
“I love you. It’s as simple n as complicated as that. Nothin’ is gonna make me walk away so ya can do Whatever it is ya feel ya need ta do but I’m gonna be right here with you.”
Before she’d even finished speaking there as a scoff passing his lips, eyes rolling as he looked away from the redhead. Love. James didn’t even know what love felt like, nor did he understand why such a fickle emotion kept Ray around. The more he ruminated on the word, the angrier he became.
“What a bullshit reason.”
Fingers curling into a tight fist, the soldier grit teeth as he attempted to reign in his temper, though the moment James realised he was doing so he stopped the attempt and got to his feet. He needed to move. He needed to do...something; to make someone bleed. “I’m going out,” James said, moving closer to the petite woman, flesh hand gripping her face, though not as tightly as he wanted; she needed to answer his coming question, after all. “Remember what to do if someone comes to the door?”
shxrpshot:
The old grump says something that Clint can’t quite catch ( ‘mister? [s]ister?’ ), but he doesn’t bother asking him to repeat. Hell, listening to him bring up the war is enough to tempt Clint into switching off his aids for the entire duration of their journey.
Instead, he simply rolls his eyes so hard that it actually hurts. “Back in my day,” he mutters under his breath as he limps along, barely staggering fast enough to keep up. Right now, with his ankle hurting like a bitch and Barnes snarking away, it’s really difficult to not be difficult. “Don’t worry - no dumbing down needed here. Conspicuous means secretive, right?” he asks, tone deceptively innocent. “But why would a car be secretive?”
Immediately Barnes comes to a halt, his shoulders tensed so tight it likely would have hurt were he not so used to ignoring pain to the point of nonexistence.
How could Natalia stand this guy? Would she miss him if he just... left Clint’s body here to rot? The archer was already injured, it would be much too easy to make it look like an accident. But the moment the thoughts were had they were shoved to the wayside -- what did it matter what that redheaded harpy thought.
“Shut. Up.”
Christ, it was as if Barton knew he wasn’t the man Steve harped on about knowing way back when; as if he were purposefully trying to irritate him to the point of blowing a cover he was barely hanging on to as it was. “Do you know how to be quiet for two minutes?”
credit: alexandra
@shxrpshot from [ x ]
“I am walking.”
Walking in spirit, that is. The limp is getting worse, with his ankle swollen and throbbing whenever his foot so much as brushes along the ground. Does it hurt? Like a bitch. Will it stop him? Hah! Clint will bitch and moan and complain about how whatever god of ankles had cursed him from above, but he’d be damned if he lets it stop him from going on his merry way.
With a certain someone acting all fussy and impatient, he’s definitely not going to quit. “What happened to ‘patience is a virtue’?” he asks as he doggedly hobbles after Barnes. “And what happened to cars? How come we never get any cars to drive?”
“I’ve seen amputees walk faster than this.”
His irritation with the other has reached a point where he honestly began contemplating pulling his knife and slitting the gimpy bastard’s throat.
Eye twitching at the rapid questions, Barnes runs his tongue over his teeth, flesh hand twitching toward the large knife strapped to his thigh. Clint’s death would be such a sweet release -- and not only for himself. “That virtue must have been lost with the memory of what my little sister looked like,” he can’t but mutter, eyes promptly rolling in an uncharacteristic outward display of his displeasure. “You never would have made it in The War. -- We don’t have a car because they’re conspicuous. You know what that word means, right, or do I need to dumb it down?”
Do not test my power, do not tempt my fury
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truesymphony:
She couldn’t believe what he was saying. But the threat was the last straw for her. She quickly jumped up then moved in front of the nursery door. “Go look at the receipts, James! I was shoppin’. I would never do anythin’ like that n the fact ya believe that I could ever be with anyone else is damn insultin’. I love you. Every part even this part. Why would I waste my time with anyone else!? They could never drive me crazy the way you do.”
She snarled a little. “If you try ta hurt her ya will hafta kill me first. N then know that lil’ girl is all that is left of me.” She could take his abuse. He could hurt her and that was fine. But she would never let him hurt their child. “C’mon you don’t wanna do that ta her…. That baby is ours. N I can’t believe ya would hurt her. because she is the only other person in his world that loves ya unconditionally like me.”
Ray stepped forward and placed her hands on his arms. “I love you.” She said over and over. she knew he wouldn’t say it back but she didn’t care. He never needed to say it. She knew it.
“Don’t you ever, EVER presume to know what I do or do not want,” he hissed, hands reaching up to grip her wrists and squeezing until bone and cartilage ground together. The previous bright fire of agitation in his eyes fading into a dark storm of hatred; there was nothing that infuriated him more than being told what to do in any capacity, he’d had decades of such bullshit.
After a moment he released her wrists only to shove her away from the door, hand on the knob as he pushed it open, knowing well how best to teach her a lesson. Elizabeth was standing in her crib, reddened eyes watching him curiously as he entered the room and quickly picked her up, his touch far rougher than it had ever been.