how is he only 25

anonymous asked:

Is my eyes playing tricks on me or has Tom been bulking up since civil war 👀 I feel like he's maturing so nicely and I want him to grow his facial hair out already. I don't think his "glo up" is over, I can only imagine how fine he will look when he's 25

Hell no to the facial hair, baby! Well who knows he may look good as hell. But yas honey he works out and shit so he’s  F I T. As long as he doesn’t get swoll like Zac Efron than I’ll be fine. 

At 25 girl I feel like he is going to have bitches falling tf out😂 just as long as he stays away from Hollyweird and their hardcore drug ring and stays stress free our man will be looking like the more finer version of my old man sugar daddy Tony Goldwyn

anonymous asked:

Alexander Wennberg, Beau Bennett, Leon Draisaitl

Alexander Wennberg: At first I read this as Wahlberg and I was really confused. But as for my thoughts: Super Swedish and I love it. He’s feeling 22, and honestly, I can’t believe he’s only twenty-two. ZOOM. Sweet hair. How does he only have 25 goals!? 

Beau Bennett: His name really does say it all. Il est très beau! I’m so jealous of the fact that he gets to play with Hallys in New Jersey! His Instagram and Twitter are a gift to this world! Definitely, the kind of guy who follows conspiracy theories! Underrated smol bean!

Leon Draisaitl: Let me just say, I have several of his hockey cards up on my wall of fame, so my opinion on him is he’s good enough to be put up with the likes of Price, Subban, Hall, Kadri, Gretzky, and Ovi (a miss matched bunch I know). Sometimes I forget he’s German and my non-hockey friends have had to remind me. I disagree with the fact that he’s 21, like, that beard! Shout out to those six goals and ten assists in thirteen playoff games! I can’t believe how much I heard “Leon” in 13 games, I’m honestly so impressed. He’s also so underrated. I mean he does play with Connor mother freaking McDavid. 

(No shade to McBaevid, I love him and have his name on my beautiful Edmonton jersey) 

Thanks Anonymous! Fell free to keep the asks coming!

Remember Me Pt2

Summary: You are the other third of the End of the Line Squad, trying to get Bucky to remember you and Steve. After the battle in the helicarrier you set out to find him again, but he finds you first. ((Read Part 1 here))

Warnings: Pretty moderate fight scene, blood, angst(ish)

Word count: 1818

A/N: This took me forever, and it’s probably terrible. Sorry guys, I hope this isn’t cringe-worthy at the very least. 

Originally posted by blackinjustice

Bucky had gotten good at hiding his tracks. Maybe you would have found him sooner if Steve was out of the hospital, but you decided you couldn’t wait that long; Bucky couldn’t wait that long.

It took a lot of convincing, a team of doctors, and about half the Avengers to keep Steve from joining you, but in the end he agreed as long as you’re at 100%. You were closer to 80%, but that was about as good as you were gonna get.

You had narrowed your search down to a single street, witnesses said they saw him passing through every night at the same time. It had been a long time since you’d been there, but there was no way you’d forget what home looked like.

You, Bucky, and Steve had all lived on the same road once upon a time, and although the bricks were worn down and painted over it still looked the same. This was where you first met them, where you helped one of their moms make dinner when they had you over, where you chased the streetlamps like baby suns lining the broken road, imagining a sunset and a prince and a happy ending. Growing up had only taught you that there were no happy endings, but there were happy in-betweens, and it was the least you could do to remember those.

It was no wonder why Bucky would come here, if you had the chance maybe you would too. You didn’t have amnesia, but seeing those old time-worn buildings again were bringing back memories you never knew you forgot. Memories like punching Steve’s bullies (most of them were too scared to hit a girl, so you got a few good hits in before they split) and chasing after Bucky when he grabbed your hand and ran to whatever it was he wanted to show you. More often than not his ‘great discovery’ was a new flavour of milkshake he wanted you to try.

Looking at it now, there were really only two things that had changed. One being the streetlights, they weren’t orange and warm and familiar anymore, they were those pale solar lamps that always seemed to turn on too early and make the cracked pavement look more eerie than cozy. The second difference was the group of suspiciously monochromatic men who had begun open-firing at you.

Now, you may have been 90 odd year old, but back in your day the people who fired guns at a seemingly innocent passerby were usually bad. And if that wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the red Hydra symbol branded into their skin was. They must have found Bucky too, but if they wanted to get to him first they would have to climb over your dead body, and you could promise them that you didn’t die easy.

You took down two of the five no problem, sweeping their feet out from under them and ending their train of thought with a quick and harsh stomp to the pavement. Of course their heads were between the ground and your foot, but it wasn’t enough to kill them or crack their skull seriously. They’d wake up with a headache the same as yours after the helicarrier and their vision would be spinning the like yours was but-

Wait. Spinning? You had been dizzy from a fight before, but the world never whirred around like it was doing now, not even after a good roundhouse kick. It must have been your concussion acting up again. Steve had warned you not to push yourself. You didn’t usually listen to him in the first place, why would you start now?

You expected to be shot by now, but when you looked up from the wall supporting you there were no bodies left standing. None that you wanted to hurt anyways.

James Buchanan Barnes was standing in the middle of the alleyway, dropping an almost lifeless body onto the ground. The white streetlight only brought out the cold in his eyes, until they floated over and it was like the hate flinched when they locked onto you.

Bucky remembered those eyes. Not just from the helicarrier anymore, he saw them when he closed his eyes, bright and happy and careless. He remembered a shiny car with no wheels and a man with slicked back hair and a mustache. He remembered you literally jumping beside him before he pushed you to go talk to him. He remembered your million dollar smile lighting up the whole world when you came back and said you got a job with The Howard Stark.

You knew that look, it was almost like you could see his thoughts projecting across his pupils. The words slipped past your lips before you knew you were so much as thinking them.

“What do you remember?” Because you knew he remembered something. If he didn’t he wouldn’t have come home every night. He wouldn’t have saved you, not on the helicarrier and not now when it was his enemies and his fight and his demons. You wouldn’t have been able to find him if he didn’t remember.

He couldn’t remember where he learned the line, but he heard his voice playing it over and over in his head when he thought about you, followed by your laugh and the tingling of your fingertips against his knuckles or your lips against his cheek.

“Isn’t that the million dollar question?” And you did laugh; it was a sad kind of laugh because you missed hearing those words and you missed Bucky and you missed the 40’s. You missed it all so much that you couldn’t help the watery eyes or the bone-crushing hug you gave Bucky. You missed it and you thought you lost it all when you woke up beside Steve 70 years later, but you hadn’t lost a thing, it had only been waiting for you to look for it again.


The hideout Bucky was staying in wasn’t the warmest or the nicest place you’d slept, but it had a roof and it had Bucky, and that was more than you could ask for. You didn’t mind the cold anyhow, after decades frozen in ice it didn’t seem to bother you much. What did bother you was that Bucky didn’t seem bother by it either, and there was only one explanation for how he could still look 25 and not feel the coursing chill that soaked through the walls of rotten wood.

Before you joined Steve on his suicide mission you were working with Stark on something that could preserve a person for centuries, you called it the cryo-chamber. It hadn’t been finished or tested before it got stolen though, Hydra swooping in and extracting all your progress before blowing the whole lab up.

“You’re bleeding.” You had to push back your curiosity and worry on the subject somehow, because if you kept thinking about it you would ask, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer. Howard and you had hypothesized that it would hurt, being frozen at temperatures that cold and so fast, and to think you could have been the source of that kind of cruelty towards anyone, let alone Bucky, well it wouldn’t end well.

“It’s fine.” Bucky didn’t even look at the wound, only sat down with a grunt and rested the back of his head against the crumbling wall.

“At least let me look at it.” Bucky watched you stepping closer, slowly, like you were worried he’d run away if you got too close too quick. He probably would if he didn’t get this feeling between his ribs, like somewhere between the shards he called memories and the concern flooding your eyes you had become his whole world.

You reached out to lift his shirt over his wound and he flinched. He didn’t mean to pull back, he wanted to feel your fingers tracing his skin, he wanted to remember. It wasn’t enough to recall E/C orbs or sweet laughs that made the world innocent again, he wanted to think of more than a pretty dress and carelessly curled hair. He wanted to remember why he felt like he could trust you this much, and why he felt so crushed when he saw you in danger.

You waited for him, keeping your hands exactly where they were until Bucky’s hands ran over them and guided them to the bloody fabric on his stomach. The soft smile you awarded him was enough to make him forget the pain.

You fixed him up as best you could. He would’ve been better off with stitches, but the limited resources around you and the fact that you weren’t a nurse impeded that plan. Bucky didn’t mind, you had always been good at fixing things. He appreciated how close you got to him and how focused you were in stopping the bleeding, it gave him time to trace the lines of your face. He got the same feeling looking at you now that you’d get from opening a book you had read years ago and forgotten the plot of. Familiar and entrancing and absorbing.

When you were done you rubbed your temples and groaned, your post-concussed headache was crawling back and it wasn’t a feeling you were grateful for. Bucky looked up at you like a puppy, worried for the only thing he knew he had.

“Are you hurt?” You regretted shaking your head so fast, it only made the building pressure worse.

“Do you remember when Steve used to get real sick, and we would sleep outside his door when his mom had to go to work?” Bucky looked away for a second, squinting like he was searching the disintegrating room for clues before nodding lightly and coming back to you.

“Yeah, I would sit against the door and you would put your head in my lap.” You let a little pride swim into your smile to show him he was right.

“Could we do that now?” Bucky didn’t have to think very long on it, he was realizing he would do just about anything to be closer to you. With another nod you scooted closer and rested your aching head on his lap, wrapping your arms around his waist like you always used to. Bucky’s fingers went into your hair, playing and braiding the strands like it was second nature to him. Maybe it was - he couldn’t remember how many times he’d done this before - he only knew it felt nice. Warm and comfortable and relieving.

“I missed you so much Buck,” He could tell by the way you breathed his name that you meant it, like it was a lost secret you hadn’t said in a long time but never forgot about.

And maybe the stream of good that flooded through him when he heard that meant he missed you too.