tony-tony

aint-nothing-but-a-drifter  asked:

Hey Bucky! I love reading about your perspective on life. I was wondering, have you bonded with Tony over non-consensual body modifications? And, has he/does he help out at all with the technical support of your arm?

tony and i have talked about our super fun experiences with becoming cyborgs, yes, and i guess we bonded? honestly though tony and i spend a lot of time geeking out about science and engineering. im nowhere near his level but when hes stumbled across something that really gets him excited he likes to share it with anyone who will listen and im one of the few people in the tower who is genuinely interested in that stuff. bruce is too but is interests are more focused. so often tony will just burst into whatever room im hanging out in and begin ranting about whatever neat science thing has happened. often he is still smoking from whatever explosion he just accidentally set off. 

tony and i mostly bond over cars. both of us are car nerds–or gearheads, if you wanna be picky about it–and we spend a lot of time working on the cars tony already has or just chatting about cars in general. natasha joins us a lot too, believe it or not. she has strong opinions about cars, both as accessories for her various covers, and as getaway vehicles. eventually i think it just kinda turned into an actual interest in cars. so she and tony and i argue cars a lot, because the rest of the avengers couldnt care less. clint drives an ancient pickup truck that is probably more bullet holes than steel, thor is half convinced that every car is gonna hit him (to be fair to thor, hes been hit by cars a lot) bruce just drives whatever, and steve seems to think that cars are some sort of range weapon. 

tony does do my arm maintenance. last time my arm broke it was because he summoned the iron man armor across the city while i was stuffing the insides full of glitter. it broke all of my metal fingers. tony fixed them all except my middle finger, which is currently stuck in flipping-off position. doesnt bother me much though because i do that a lot anyway 

Lin-Manuel Miranda on His Lifelong Oscars Obsession and Why the Show Still Matters (Guest Column)

The Hollywood Reporter
February 20, 2017

During college, Lin-Manuel Miranda and a friend used to improvise interpretative dance tributes to best picture nominees at their annual Oscar party. “It was a lot of breathing and rolling around,” recalls the creator of the Broadway smash Hamilton. “We had a great Seabiscuit dance one year.”

For the New York-born son of Puerto Rican parents — his father a political consultant, his mother a psychologist — it was just another phase of a lifelong fascination with the Oscars that began when he was growing up in the Inwood section of Manhattan, playing and replaying the telecasts that his family recorded on their VCR. At 37, Miranda is about to cross the threshold from superfan to participant: “How Far I’ll Go,” which he wrote for the Disney film Moana, is nominated for original song, and on Feb. 26, Miranda (with his mother) will attend his first Academy Awards.

It’s an auspicious step in a career that will see him star with Emily Blunt and Colin Firth in Disney’s 2018 Mary Poppins Returns and collaborate with composer Alan Menken on the studio’s live-action The Little Mermaid, one of Miranda’s favorite films and, he reveals here, the gateway to his Oscars obsession.

My brain is a compendium of Oscar moments: Tom Hanks’ beautiful acceptance speech when he won best actor for Philadelphia in 1994. Roberto Benigni climbing over chairs and wanting to make love to everybody in the world when Life Is Beautiful won best foreign-language film in 1999. Kim Basinger presenting in 1990 and telling the audience that one of the best films of the year, Do the Right Thing, was not nominated. For her to take a stand, 25 years before #OscarsSoWhite, was incredible — and impressive because time has shown the prescience of that film.

I expect we’ll see more of that this year. It’s a political time, so I imagine the Oscars will look exactly like your Twitter or Facebook feed. Why should we ignore for three hours what we’re talking about 24 hours a day?

The Oscars were always a family affair when I was a kid. One sort of unintentional tradition we had every year was during the “In Memoriam” part of the show. My family called it the “She died?” section because my dad, who is pop culture-oblivious, would always go, “She died? He died? She died?!” the whole time. So, it was very sad and yet also very funny watching my dad catch up.

When I was a kid, the Oscars felt like this impossibly larger-than-life thing. The first time I felt like I had a horse in the race was in 1990. I was 10, and The Little Mermaid was up for best song and best score. They did that crazy “Under the Sea” number with the late, great Geoffrey Holder and dudes in scuba outfits tap-dancing with flippers. They did that crazy “Under the Sea” number with the late, great Geoffrey Holder and dudes in scuba outfits tap-dancing with flippers. We had a tradition of recording the show on our VHS, and I must have watched it a million and a half times.

There was also an amazing Chuck Workman montage at the beginning of the show that depicted 100 years of filmmaking with classic scores. I was already in love with movies, but this was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.

That was the period when Billy Crystal was hosting, and I would memorize his musical spoofs of the year’s top films. He did them with Marc Shaiman, whom I’m working with right now on Mary Poppins Returns… I was a huge fan of those moments and musical numbers — they showed a genuine love of movies while still poking fun at them. I may also be the only person in America who laughed his ass off to “Uma, Oprah. Oprah, Uma.” David Letterman’s commitment to that bit was enough to put it over the top for me. He didn’t care if no one got it. In his head, it was funny.


Hosting the Oscars is not a thing I would ever want to do… You always have to do this dance as a host: You’re playing to a billion people at home, and you’re playing to anxious contestants in a room, and that’s an insanely hard thing to divide. It’s the most thankless task in the world. I have a pretty healthy ego, but it does not extend in that direction. I’d much rather be the guy writing the opening tune than having to deliver it.


Another Oscar moment that really stuck with me was when Whoopi won her best supporting actress for Ghost. I’ll never forget, at the top of her acceptance speech she said, “Ever since I was a little kid, I wanted this,” which is so rare. Then she said, “As a little kid, I lived in the projects, and you’re the people I watched. You’re the people who made me want to be an actor.” For me, it was like she was saying, “If you want this, you can get it, too. I’m proof that you can.”

I had been seeing myself in this world since I was old enough to do anything, and it was as if she reached through the screen to talk to me. I was that kid. Even my mother used to say, “Remember what Whoopi said.”

That speech was the inspiration for the opening song I co-wrote for Neil Patrick Harris, “Bigger,” for the 2013 Tony Awards:

There’s a kid in the middle of nowhere sitting there, living for Tony performances singin’ and flippin’ along with the Pippins and Wickeds and Kinkys, Matildas and Mormonses / So we might reassure that kid and do something to spur that kid  / ‘Cause I promise you all of us up here tonight, We were that kid and now we’re bigger


Another of my favorite moments was in 2005, when they had Antonio Banderas sing “Al Otro Lado Del Rio” from The Motorcycle Diaries, which was nominated for best song. And then when Jorge Drexler, who composed it, won, he went onstage and sang it, like, “This is how it really goes.” It was so funny and ballsy and great. I’m happy whenever Latinos win anything, so I was thrilled by both performances.

I can’t tell you what it feels like in that room because this will be my first time at the Oscars, but I can tell you why the Oscars matter. It’s a night when the arts and artists are formally honored, and this recognition is seen by millions of people across the country and around the world. The show inspires people to keep pursuing their craft, or to seek out the nominated films or the overall body of work of the nominees, and through that exposure, people gain a greater appreciation of what the art of filmmaking brings to our culture.

2

So I was watching Captain America: Civil War again. And I realised something. 

That bit at the end, where they find Zemo? They’re in Siberia. At the Hydra facility. Where Bucky Barnes was held, and trained, and conditioned, and tortured as the Winter Soldier. That’s his chair, right there. One of his chairs. He has at least one more – we saw one in Washington DC in CA:WS. But this is the big one. This is where he was given the order to kill Howard and Maria Stark, among others.

He’ll have a lot of memories associated with this place. A lot of very traumatic memories. He didn’t want to come here, we saw that in his face earlier. But he came anyway. Because Steve needs him.

That’s Steve Rogers on the left. And Tony Stark, also on the left. 

Bucky’s on the right, gun lifted, every muscle tense. The positioning of the scene means he’s separated from the others – physically and almost certainly mentally.

Look at his face.

Look at the terror. The barely-restrained panic. The stubborn determination to see this through – and he fully expects it to be a fight to the death against five other Winter Soldiers. It will mean his death and Tony’s death and Steve’s death, and then the world will fall and it will be his fault, because Bucky was the weakest of the six Winter Soldiers and he knows it. He knows he’s no match for even one of the other Soldiers, let alone all of them. He knows he will probably die here, in this place that has already caused him so much pain and suffering

(Also, for the entirety of Steve’s conversation with Zemo, Bucky’s in the background by the railing. We don’t see a reaction shot until after Tony finds out about his parents. But what’s Bucky doing there? Staring at the chair, trying not to throw up, perhaps? Trying not to pass out from the onslaught of memories, the emotional distress of being in such close proximity to the thing that was used to torture him for decades?)

He’s gripping that gun pretty tightly. He’s on edge. Maybe fighting the pull of his mind combined with this environment. In the previous scene, even when it was clear that Tony wasn’t about to shoot them on sight, he didn’t lower the gun until Steve physically waved him down. Was it because it was Steve, specifically, giving the order? Or was it his mind recognising a command from a superior officer?

He doesn’t want to be here.

He knows he’ll probably die here.

But he made a promise to Steve.

This? This is the end of the line.

And Bucky sure as hell is going to go down fighting.

Misery Needs Company

it sounded like @copperbadge was having One of Those Weekends, so i asked if he’d like some fic and he requested someone with a headache getting coddled

feel better!

“Tony!” Pepper calls and he flinches.

A headache going on day three is sitting like a pulsating rock in his frontal lobe and the pitch of her voice is enough to send a needle point of pain inward.

Pepper pauses, looks at him for five seconds, and then says, voice lowered, “When did it start?”

“On the way home from NBC?” Tony tries because he honestly isn’t sure.

Pepper stares at him. “That was two days ago.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighs.

Tony,” she says, sounding appalled.

“What?” he replies defensively. “I’ve gotten six hours of sleep the last four nights, I’ve eaten regularly, I’ve only had like four cups of coffee per day, and I haven’t gone over the recommended dose of over-the-counter painkillers even though I know you can go over that and be fine!”

“Tony, that wasn’t criticism,” Pepper says, her expression sympathetic and her hand light on his arm.

“Oh,” Tony says, and deflates. “I’m tired and I’ve been sleeping,” he whines. “How is that fair?”

“It’s not.” She nudges him forward gently and Tony moves as directed, reaching up to dig his knuckles into his forehead. If he presses hard enough, it briefly dulls the pain. “Come on. We’re done for today.”

Tony should protest. There’s still a lot to do. But it feels good to have someone take the reins and he doesn’t have it in him to fight when he wants to do what she says so badly.

Keep reading

I’ll never forget, at the top of [Whoopi Goldberg’s Oscar] acceptance speech she said, “Ever since I was a little kid, I wanted this,” which is so rare. Then she said, “As a little kid, I lived in the projects, and you’re the people I watched. You’re the people who made me want to be an actor.” For me, it was like she was saying, “If you want this, you can get it, too. I’m proof that you can.”


I had been seeing myself in this world since I was old enough to do anything, and it was as if she reached through the screen to talk to me. I was that kid.

— 

Lin-Manuel Miranda on His Lifelong Oscars Obsession and Why the Show Still Matters
The Hollywood Reporter
February 20, 2017

“That speech was the inspiration for the opening song I co-wrote for Neil Patrick Harris, ‘Bigger,’ for the 2013 Tony Awards”

  • Bucky: Huh? What was that? I should kill everyone and then kidnap Stark? Sorry. The voices.
  • Avengers: [stares]
  • Bucky: Ahaha, I'm kidding! Jeez! That's not what they really said.

Steve and Tony: *Start fighting*

Me:

Originally posted by attack-clifford

Delta (Bucky Barnes x Reader) A/B/O Series

A/N: HEY GUYS! I literally forgot that I made this a month ago but never posted it haha! :D I’ve always been a sucker for a/b/o fics and I wanted to shake things up a bit. (: pls excuse any misspellings as I get too excited when I wrote this lol. ENJOY! -Delilah ❤❤

Delta: Reader is a rare being in the a/b/o cycle and finds herself along side the Avengers. She manages to hide her true nature successfully until she catches the eye of a certain blue eyed super soldier.

Warnings: minor character death. Soon to be smut!!

Your life consisted of abnormal circumstances.

Your parents were both very well respected alphas in your small town. They courted each other for a couple years before having your older brother, who of course, turned out to be an alpha as well. So naturally, when your mother became pregnant with you everyone assumed you would be as well. In fact, at the baby shower they refused to receive any traditional beta or omega feeding supplies.

But whenever your mother went into labor one January night instead of the usual summer morning like alphas were, it threw everyone off guard.They didn’t stress it, though. Maybe it was just nothing more than a false alarm. Nothing unusual, right? Wrong.

After fifteen long hours of labor, you were born, but were weren’t an alpha or a beta. Not even an omega.

Somehow, you were a delta.

There weren’t many left in the United States, looking on Google there had to be at least 2,000 in the entire country. And that was for a rather scary reason.

Deltas were the rare flower of the alpha/beta/omega cycle. They were a bit different than the others. The heats were on a whole other spectrum of complication. For starters, you would exactly experience a heat. It was your body’s natural way of finding a suitable partner. Meaning, until you came across an exceptional alpha, your body would put itself on hold. The downside was that when it would happen someday, if not taken care of correctly, you could die. It was extreme, yes, but you always figured that Mother Nature just had it out for you.

The next thing was mating and bonding. If you were to want to settle down, not only would your significant other have to be an alpha, they’d have to be very experienced. Mating was one thing, but it took a special someone to actually bond. You couldn’t just settle for a beta like some others did, which sucked.

But you highly doubted that would ever happen.

You lived a highly sheltered life growing up. Instead of going out and experiencing adolescence, you were kept inside for your own safety. That was, until your parents passed away in a car crash shortly after your eighteenth birthday. Fortunately, you and your brother inherited a fair share of money and you parted ways.

Which is how you ended up in New York City.

You had enough funds to find you a nice, small apartment in a well lit area and just enough for college. You even found a doctor that specializes with delta’s and got yourself some suppressants. You were officially passing yourself off as an omega, which gave you an excellent sense of security.

Life was going great.

Until one day it wasn’t.

xxxxxxxxx

You were leaving class one afternoon, carrying the many blueprints in your arms as you carefully placed each foot in front of the other. You hated the steps outside NYU, as they got super slippery during the rainy seasons. You carefully placed each step with precaution, until suddenly your foot slipped from the step, sending you flying onto your face in the middle of the crowded students. Per usual.

With a cry, you hastily gathered up the many tangled blueprints that scattered across the ground. You spent three sleepless nights on these! There was no way you’d let people walk all over them. But before you could reach the last one, you were stopped by a pair of black heels blocking your way. The mysterious woman bent down and picked up one of your papers and smoothed it out on her skirt. You watched as she held the blueprint up, blocking your view of her face. Great! Now you’d be a victim of plagiarism.

“Excuse me,” you say harshly, reaching upwards for the blueprint. “That’s mine!”

“I kind of guessed that, kid.” She replied with a small laugh. Wait, you could’ve swore you’ve heard that voice before. But for the life of god, you couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Did you come up with these on your own?” she asks, turning the page over.

“Well…yeah.” you scoff, standing to your feet. You reached forward to grab the paper again, only to be met with a very impressed redheaded woman, one you’ve pretty much seen your entire life. Your mouth practically hit the floor. The rest of the blueprints in your hand slipped from your grasp and pooled around your feet.

“P-Pepper Potts!”

Pepper smiled down at you, cocking her head to the side. She eyed you up and down, sizing you up. You suddenly felt so self conscious under her gaze. Pepper was an unusually dominant beta, as you could tell by the way she carried herself. Somehow, it also gave off the motherly vibe.

“That’s my name. And you are?”

“Y/N,” you say. “Y/N Y/L/N.” You watched as she leaned in and inhaled deeply, her eyes dilating slightly. You felt yourself growing nervous. There’s no way she could’ve known you were a delta. Dr. Strange made sure you had the highest dosage on the market. Surely a random beta wouldn’t pick up on it.

“Well, Y/N,” she says, pulling out a tablet and tapping on it rapidly. You try to sneak a peek at it, only to have her hold it back further from you. You only felt yourself growing more nervous. Before you could open your mouth to ask what in the world was going on, Pepper beat you to it.

“How do you feel about working for Tony Stark?”


-FIN ❤

(Part 2 will be here soon as heck you guys!)