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Just heard someone say "A tweet I twoted on Twitter dot com" and I was like, mmm, yep, John is Millenial enough to argue over whether it's twoted or twote, someone else would say surely it's tweeted, "don't call me Shirley"...
And then Bucky who has been listening and not caring says, "I'm having twins, does that mean I'll have a twunt?"
And Ava laughs so hard she phases through her chair oh my god Bucky
Send tweet
Adorable.
Clint: How can someone say Bucky is a villain?! He's the most precious soft little soul!
Bucky, wiping blood off his face: YEAH, I'M ADORABLE!
Thanos. Tony Stark, but he has to be in the Iron Man costume and you can't use motor oil or lube or ANYTHING. And the Hulk.
@killypool // FUCK MARRY KILL MEME
“Kill Thanos obviously. Marry Tony in his Iron Man suit, and fuck it, I’ll take a ride on the Hulk’s big green tractor.”
“may thy knife chip and shatter.” jim @ bucky
“I could just stab you with the shards.” Except Jim would probably like that, thus defeating the purpose trying to make you suffer. “Or make you eat them. That’d hurt more. Glass shards kill you. Metal would too, if it was the right size. It looked painful.”
WARNING: INFINITY WAR SPOILERS AHEAD. I SAW IT YESTERDAY AND I'M STILL CRYING. LOKI DIED IN THE FIRST 5 MINTUES?? WHY. WHY MARVEL. AND GAMORA, SHE WAS SACRIFICED BY THANOS WHO ACTUALLY CARED ABOUT HER? WHAT? AND I CRIED SO HARD WHEN BUCKY BARNES TURNED INTO FRICKEN DUST. NUH UH. IF MARVEL DOES NOT BRING HIM BACK I SWEAR I WILL BEAT THEM. AND THEN HOW SLOWLY PETER FADED AWAY AND CRIED ON TONY. MARVEL WHY ARE YOU SO CRUEL. AND I WAS WRONG, LOKI DIED FOR NOTHING. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. THANOS YOU OVER-SIZED GRAPE, I WILL KICK YOUR ASS FOR HURTING MY STEVE AND BUCKY. *Cries for 15 more minutes before being able to speak* Ok, on a slightly happier note (not that I can be happy now) my favorite line was "Well screw you, ya' big green asshole!" And how the Peters are both huge into old si-fi movies! I feel you, Parker. I can reference houndreds of old si-fi movies and no one my age gets the references. DX Ok, I'm just going to cry now. Bye... 😖😖😖
god when a character in fic does something so self destructive and terrible and ya JUST FEEL SICK but you gotta power through
terrie // help me
The best part about having a blind roommate: she sees nothing you do.
The worst part about having a blind roommate: she hears everything you do.
And while I agree, being able to walk around the place without so much as a bra on is the most convenient feeling in the world, she also seems to know everything, especially when Stephen and I are fighting. I admit, I can be a bit petty, but arguing over whether or not it is socially acceptable to avoid your friends for over a week was more of a top priority for me, which was strange, arguing about this while being in the other room, ignoring said friend. Yeah, things had changed, and I was allowed to grieve just as much as she was, but wasn’t I supposed to get over myself and be the friend she needed me to be now more than ever? Stephen thought so, and he was usually right. Still, I wasn’t about to admit this to him. While Paisley went out to spend time with Clint, I was finally able to appreciate an empty dorm for once in my life, doing what I did best: sulking. I was refusing to speak to Stephen, refusing to speak to anyone, and all I had was a boring romantic movie and vanilla bean ice cream, my only friend.
I’d just heard my spoon begin to hit the bottom of the pint when Steve called me, and for the first time that week, I’d decided to answer. The spoon was in my mouth, curving around my tongue and causing a lisp, but I didn’t care as I asked, “Hello?”
“Hey, Terrie? I wanted to know how you are, but that’s not the reason why I called.” I could hear the concern in Steve’s voice before he’d even gotten my name out of the way, and Steve didn’t usually sound all that worried. He’d always tried to conceal it, but maybe he’d decided against that knowing I wouldn’t listen any other way.
“Then why did you call?” I asked, staring at the spoon now, staring back at the warped reflection of the ceiling as I tried to busy myself with anything other than my friends. I had found that curt replies made for the shortest of conversations and no expectations to follow them.
“It’s Bucky. He’s in one of those moods again, and I can’t seem to get him out of it. I was wondering if maybe you could.. Lift his spirits a bit like before. Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but--”
“It’s fine.” Already, the ice cream had been thrown away, and I was in my room, putting a bra on. Not that the boys would care, but it always seemed to be one of those unspoken rules I’d chosen to follow since moving from an A cup to a B cup. “What’s his current state?” I’d set the phone down after almost toppling down, attempting to keep the phone pressed to my ear while simultaneously slipping on skinny jeans (which were in fact too skinny for someone who ate a pint of ice cream once a week), and already, the noises coming through since putting Steve on speaker made it clear how close and how poor Bucky was.
“He’s drunk, if that’s what you’re asking. I tried to sober him up half an hour ago, but he’s not really listening to anyone at this point.”
And I couldn’t help but laugh at this, because Steve had known Bucky longer than anyone else; naturally, he was the one I’d want to have by my side if we were going to tame Buck, but to know that Steve had failed? He’d no sooner ask me to take Paisley to another party and I’d tell him that it was a good idea. “What do you want me to do? Make him play truth or dare with only himself and hope he doesn’t realize it until he’s too worn out to argue anymore?”
“We just.. I really need you over here, Terrie.” He didn’t have to say much else for me to listen.
“Alright, Steve, but you owe me.” I hung up and finished getting on my socks and converse, wondering how I was supposed to calm Bucky down. He just sort of lost it when he was in these moods, like he was someone completely different, like he didn’t even remember us at all. It was something that, up until the incident with Paisley, I’d never seen. I sorely wished I never had to.
On most days, I just walked to their apartment, but on days like these with a box of popsicles I’d bought for and then stole from Paisley in one hand and a collection of classics that Buck preferred to watch, like Dirty Dancing, the way to get around was by catching a ride. Since I knew practically no one, the only person I could turn to was Bruce. The poor guy drove farther to pick me up than he did to drop me off, but after a long period of sighing and, “I’m not sure what exactly it is you want from me,” he agreed and begged me to make more friends. I accepted his terms and conditions. He made sure to add, “Oh, and I’m sorry about Paisley,” confirming my thought that this was a pity ride, but none of it really mattered. It wasn’t like I’d need another pity ride from him again.
Once we exchanged solemn glances, I got out of the car and headed into their apartment, immediately regretting it and wanting to spend the night with Bruce more than anyone else, but he had unfortunately already left. I checked.
“Steve..?” I called out. Soon enough, I could hear him making his way into the living room, and then I saw him, and I suddenly didn’t know what to say.
“Terrie, thank God you made it. I was beginning to worry,” he said, but his eyes trailed down to stare at the conveniently red, white, and blue colored popsicles in my hand. I couldn’t stop staring at his chest. I’d seen him shirtless before (hell, Buck said he’d show me pictures of Steve naked, which I respectfully declined..), but for some reason, it was different this night. He was different. In a way, I suppose we all were. Things were different now. “Are those popsicles?”
I guess I continued to stare, because Steve had gotten closer, close enough to rest his hand on my shoulder. “Terrie?”
“Y-Yeah,” I said softly, looking up at him. “I thought the situation required outside-the-box thinking, so I.. brought a box full of dyed, frozen sugar. It usually fixes Paisley’s and my own problems.”
And he stared at me incredulously for a while, and then he smiled, shaking his head full of doubt. “Well, thank you. Bucky’s in his room, trying not to get sick for the third time tonight. Do you think you’ll be alright for a few minutes while I change?”
The part of me that’d always had a crush on him sighed, but I quickly reminded myself I was a committed woman and nodded, setting the movies down. “Sure thing.. Stevie.” For added effect, I punched his arm and went on into Buck’s room, praying I saw nothing too unsightly.
“Buck?” I asked softly, closing the door behind me. There was nothing but a dim lamp on, and Bucky was lying across his bed, torn between laying vertically and horizontally, having adopted some sort of amalgamated form in the middle. The trash can from the kitchen was on its side beside him, but it didn’t appear as though he’d used it. Quite ironically, he was trashed.
“Terence?” I’d only begun to narrow my eyes, although I was confused at the time, before he looked over at me, and with a messed up grin, he corrected himself: “Terrie. What brings you here? Wait, what are those?” He sat up before I could open my mouth to speak, and he motioned me to come over. With hesitation, I inched forward and handed him the box, and upon his fingers grazing over mine, I took a few large steps back. I’d picked up this habit of sometimes hating people’s touch, probably from the negative reinforcement I’d began receiving from Paisley, and from knowing I’d done that to her. I especially became wary of drunk people, even the ones I trusted most. Ever since Steve had helped me out, I swore I wouldn’t drink much again, and I’d kept my word.
“God, I love these things.” That was really all Bucky said, because he proceeded to eat an entire box full of popsicles (I told myself I’d buy Paisley another box later. I figured she wouldn’t notice). In the meantime, Steve had opened the door without me noticing and touched my arm lightly, causing me to back up rather than move away from the touch, bumping into him.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I whispered, but both of his hands were on me now, and you’d think I was the one who’d been violated the way I cringed.
“Terrie, are you alright?” Steve asked softly. I closed my eyes and tried counting to ten, fighting the panic that had built up over the last few weeks, and then I nodded.
“I-I’m fine. I’m just worried about Paisley.”
“Why are you worried about Paisley? ..Terrie, where’s Paisley?” With each second, Steve seemed to become more and more concerned, almost amazed at my ability to continually lose the blind girl, but I shook my head.
“She’s with Clint tonight. I just.. I was having a bad feeling, is all.” Steve observed me for a while more and nodded, letting the conversation (and me) go.
“If we’re going to spend the rest of the night worrying about Paisley, can I at least make a drink that looks like this?” Buck asked, holding up one of the last popsicles up for us to see. Both of us, simultaneously it felt like, said, “No, Bucky,” and thus, our pity party began.
jesse mccree, but with a bowl cut
extremely cursed
