#reallyviolent

[nxtesinthemargin]

emotional prompts || accepting

@reallyviolent​ sent: “ you know what? you’re on your own. i can’t watch you get yourself killed. ” ( harley )

“ Get myself killed? ” Harley repeated staring at the woman in surprise.  “ Look, doll, as flatterin’ as it is that you’re worried about me this is nothin’.  Hot wiring a car is a piece of cake.  Do stuff like this all the time.  Hell, I was in more danger gettin my breakfast this morning.  Now come on, we need a ride and I am not leavin’ a gal behind. ”

[sxrgeantbarnes]

@reallyviolent​​ || prompt

He wasn’t spinning, he was pretty sure he was laying on the ground. And it was unlikely that the world around him was actually moving in circles. So, head injury. Concussion, probably. He did fall hard. A small groan of pain passed his lips as he tried to sit up, before giving up on that almost immediately and falling back down. Words passed over him without him fully registering them- he had to actually force his brain to make the sounds into a language he could understand. Whoever was speaking, he couldn’t figure out just yet. “No, ‘m not gonna fall asleep. But ev’ry thing is spinning. Eyes are staying closed until that shit stops.”

[theironavenger]

❝  why… why are you doing this ?  ❞

"Because I need coffee. And the TV has the exact part I need to fix the coffee machine."

[devilmagoo]

"i was thinking we could go to the pier and eavesdrop on unhappy couples."

      “oh, pepper-----

                                      that i can get behind.”

[theveteranreporter]

@reallyviolent​  liked this for a starter

“ And what can I do for you, Miss Potts? “ A moment of peace; a second to spare from the continuous chaos that dwelt inside the Daily Bugle building. He had to admit, he was surprised when a secretary told him the head of Stark Industries was standing outside his office---none other than the illustrious Pepper Potts. 

He ran a ragged & spotted hand down his face, his office in a state of disarray.  Half opened boxes, folders strewn and papers littered every corner of the room. He was in the middle of a very taxing investigation involving a certain skull-clad vigilante that wandered the alleys & streets below---an investigation at the moment, was caught in a dead stand still. A break couldn’t hurt and he was naturally curious as to what the young CEO was doing here of all places, and with him of all people. 

[madehiswararchive-blog]

"frank, this is my... rogers." (i need this leo)

❛  THIS… is rogers.  ❜  chin up, eyebrows furrowed… he doesn’t know whether to be impressed or, honestly, fucking offended it’s taken her this long to share this detail that ROGERS is actually——

❛  captain goddamn america. rogers, the man you gripe about daily to me, is actually captain america.  ❜  he feels the need to punctuate himself by waving a hand, gesturing to the lumbering brute and pointedly ignoring that impressive glare.

they are going to have WORDS.