without a parachute

reioka replied to your post :I want to talk about StarkSpangledWinterHawk, but…

You could always talk about how each idiot hates how reckless his other three idiots are not realizing that literally all of them think this because they’re all reckless in completely different ways.

Or how disgustingly adorable they are with each other or something

Mostly I just wanna talk about Clint, Steve, Bucky, and Tony all have the thought “These fucking idiots would all die without me” and being super sincere about it

“These fucking idiots would all die without me.” Yes, each one of them has had this thought at some point. 

Bucky has always thought this way about Steve. He loves Steve, and Steve can be smart about certain things, but god is he a fucking idiot sometimes. Seriously, thank god for the serum. Not because it saved Steve from dying from any diseases, but because it stopped Steve from dying from something stupid. Like jumping out of a plane without a parachute. 

Then there is Tony. Bucky loves him, and Tony can take care of himself for the most part, but Jesus! When Tony is a mess and in need, he is fucking mess, and Bucky has to all but fight Tony for Tony to let Bucky help him. At least Tony doesn’t fight Bucky’s help as much as Tony fights Steve’s. Then again Steve constantly shoves his foot in his mouth (another reason why Steve wouldn’t survive without his boyfriends–all three of them have had to at one point smooth a conversation after Steve ruffled some feathers). 

That’s Bucky’s point of view (and I’m saving the Clint stuff for later). 

For Tony, he’s gotta make sure Steve isn’t insulting people left and right. Bucky and Clint try to help, but there’s a certain line that Steve loves to stampede over, and once that line has been destroyed, that’s where Tony comes in to save the day. Thanks to Steve and his impatience when it comes to dealing with people’s B.S. Tony’s respect and admiration for Pepper has shot up immensely. He’d always respected her for putting out his fires in the past. Now that he has to deal with Firestarter Steve, he loves her even more and is more grateful for everything she has done for him. 

As for Bucky, he’s Tony’s competition for the title of “Hot Mess.” One moment Bucky is the sauve smartass and the next he’s running to Tony with a broken blender and saying, “I swear I just tapped the button! It’s possessed!” He can cook, until the day when he can’t because, “I don’t know. Something made me thinking baking soda would be an okay substitute.” Then a day or two later Bucky can miraculous cook again. 

Also, with Bucky and Steve, Tony has to stop them from tag teaming anyone they think has insulted one of their own. Steve is almost always ready to throw down when someone insults his teammates. Bucky is a little more willing to hold back. He likes to think he is reasonable, but Tony knows better. All it takes is Steve’s offense reaching a certain point, then suddenly the two are like wolves, working together to take down a common enemy. 

Luckily, Tony usually has Clint to help him out when that happens. 

It’s an utter disaster though when Tony or Clint suddenly join the two. It’s even worse when Clint and Tony join the duo in taking down some asshole. The sting of it though? Once the four of them have teamed up, suddenly Steve becomes that reasonable one, and calms the others down. 

Truthfully, Steve thinks his boyfriends could survive without him (sometimes he doubts it when they do things like jump off buildings, blow up stuff on accident, and sleep in random places, but considering they have been doing it for years, he is willing to give them the benefit of the doubt).They’d just have shittier lives without him. As stubborn and emotional as Steve can be, he is practical. He knows Tony and Clint survived before him. He also knows that while Bucky may some days feel weak, he’s actually the strongest person Steve knows. All of his boyfriends are strong. They are all survivors. However, they also let people treat them like shit. 

Bucky used to be good about defending himself, but after Hydra, Bucky was much more willing to take people’s crap about him. Steve noticed that right away. It took him longer to realize the same was true of Tony. Tony is so quick-witted and his tongue so sharp, Steve had spent the early parts of their friendship oblvious to this personality trait. That being said, the person who had blindsided him was Clint. 

Clint had managed to blindside all of his boyfriends. He often told people to fight and stand up for themselves. He was always so supportive and encouraging that it took all of them the longest time to realize how deep some of his insecurities went, and just how many secrets he kept to himself. With his smile and his usually laidback attitude, it was easy for all of them to forget he was a SHIELD agent. Keeping secrets was a part of his job, and he was one of the best. 

So Steve knows that all of his boyfriends have issues, and that all of them are rather terrible about defending themselves, so that’s why Steve happily plays the role of guard dog. The moment anyone goes after his boyfriends or tries to impede their happiness, he is right there and fighting back.  No one will stop his boyfriends from being happy. 

So that leaves Clint. The true daredevil of the team with his jumping off stuff with no warning and only an arrow or dumpster to save him if Tony can’t fly to his rescue in time. Honestly, he used to be seen as level-headed, and then he’d do things like jump in front of a car to save a dog (admirable, but crazy). He’s almost as bad as Steve (Steve does not believe this when Bucky and Tony tell him so. Neither does Clint. He’s nowhere near Steve’s level of recklessness–how insulting!). Maybe he could be a bit more careful, but he’s good at what he does, and he’s always managed to get himself out of trouble. 

Steve, Bucky, and Tony though? They are disasters. Sure, they aren’t helpless, but they have their weaknesses. Clint is not the only one who has ended up in a dumpster.

Dumpsters aside, Steve’s always ready to fight and has zero-chill. Meanwhile, Tony and Bucky are hot messes who break things, others, and themselves. All three of them are terrible when it comes to sleep. Steve and Bucky have moments in which their inner frat boy selves come out (and maybe sometimes Clint has these moments too, but they are all Bucky’s fault!), and Tony needs to stop earning doctorates just to spite and one up other geniuses. 

Clint is always calming his boyfriends down. Sometimes he tags along on the chaos, but he figures as long as he’s there, he can speak up and act as the voice of reason when things get too far, and it’s worked for a while now. He gives support and encouragement where it is needed, and he honestly has no idea how his boyfriends would be alive at the moment if he weren’t around to say: “Do we really need that much C-4? Also, are we sure Steve/Bucky can punch through a wall this thick?” 

unpopular opinion: steve rogers is not lawful good aligned because COME ON when has that man EVER respected rules or laws he jumped out of a plane without a parachute, went in alone to a nazi base to save bucky, and rebelled against the entirety of shield because he knew they were corrupt my boy is chaotic good and no one can convince me otherwise

Steve Extra™ Rogers 

  • runs through walls and tears down whole buildings instead of wasting time to open a door
  • punches computers when they say things he doesn’t like 
  • jumps out of airplanes without parachutes to be a show off
  • is always Down to Die™
  • squeezes himself and his two best friends into a fucking vw bug
  • had peggy carter, one of the loves of his life, one of the founders of SHIELD, a gift to the world, on her death bed say “you’re always so dramatic”
  • back flips off of insanely high heights and hopes for the best
  • removes avengers label from uniform to be petty
2

Here’s some of the most amazing and invaluable advice you’ll most-likely ever get from one of my good colleagues and legends in comics/gaming, creator JOE MADUREIRA. It’s what i’ve been preaching to you aspiring artists since i arrived on DA, but i think his POV says it perfectly:

*WARNING: SOME MATURE LANGUAGE*

“DO YOU REALLY WANT TO BE A SUCCESSFUL ARTIST? 


Or a successful WORKING PROFESSIONAL?



Believe it or not there is a difference. I’m not usually a soapbox type guy, I don’t like instructing people, and I think I’m a terrible teacher. But hey, it’s Friday and I’m in a strange mood. So here goes:

I’ve noticed that a good number of my fans happen to be aspiring artists themselves. This is for all you guys. I get asked constantly: "Where should I go to school?” “What classes should I take?” “What should I study for anatomy?” “What pencils and paper do you use?” “Should I be working digitally now instead of traditionally?” “How do I fix my poses? Learn composition? Perspective?” “When am I going to develop my own style?” “Who were your influences?” “Teach me how to draw hands!” The list goes on…

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Here’s the deal. All of that stuff *is* important, and it may nudge you in the right direction. A lot of it you will discover for yourself. What works best for one person doesn’t work for another. That’s the beauty of art. It’s personal. It’s discovery. DON’T WORRY ABOUT ALL THAT CRAP!

Instead I’m going to answer the questions that you *SHOULD* be asking, but aren’t. These are things that have only recently occurred to me, after doing this for 20+ years. These things seem so obvious, but apparently they elude a lot of people, because I am surprised at how many ridiculously talented artists are ‘failing’ professionally. Or just unhappy. The beauty of what I’m about to tell you is that it doesn’t matter what field you’re in or what your art style is.

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In no particular order:


1) DO WHAT YOU LOVE. If you are passionate about what you’re doing, it shows. If you’re having fun, it shows. If you’re bored, IT SHOWS. Some guys are able to work on stuff they have zero interest in, and still pull off great work, but I find that when I do this my motivation takes a huge hit. And Motivation is key. Money is not a great motivator. It’s temporary like everything else. And honestly, I’ve gotten paid the most money for some of the shittiest work I have ever done. That may sound awesome, but it’s not. And here’s why…

2) You MUST stay Excited and Motivated. Have you noticed that there are days you can’t draw a god damned thing? And some days you feel like you can draw anything? It’s 4am but you don’t notice because you are in the ZONE. Your hand is racing ahead of your mind and you can do no wrong?! Maybe it’s some new paper you got. Or a new program you’ve been wanting to try out. Or you just found some amazing shit on DeviantArt, or watched some movie that just makes you want to run straight to your board. This relates to the above because while it is possible to involve yourself in projects you aren’t excited about—maybe you need the cash, or think it will look good on your resume, whatever it is—it’s not going to last. You need to stay fresh. Expose yourself to new things. New techniques. You should be getting tired of your own shit on a fairly regular basis. Otherwise other people will.

3) Check your Ego. If you think you’re the shit, you’re already doomed. You may be really, really good at what you do, but there’s someone better. Sorry. There’s always plenty to learn, even for us old dogs. So when I meet young upstarts who have this sense of entitlement, or a know-it-all attitude, I just have to laugh. Some of the biggest egos I’ve ever witnessed were from people who have accomplished the least. Meanwhile, most guys who are supremely talented AND successful, and have EARNED the RIGHT to have an ego and throw their weight around, don’t. Why is that? It’s because…

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4) RELATIONSHIPS ARE IMPORTANT. This may be one of the biggest lessons I’ve had to learn. Early on, I didn’t value my relationships with people. Creatively or otherwise. I felt like I didn’t need anyone’s help and I could figure everything out on my own. Let’s face it, many of us become artists because we are reclusive, social misfits. We’d rather stay inside and draw shit than go outside and play. We like to live inside our own minds. Why not?! It’s awesome in there! And sometimes we don’t want to let other people in. But like I said—you can’t do it alone. I can honestly say that as much as I try to stay current, as much as I try to push my work and draw kick ass shit that will excite people, I would not be where I am today if it weren’t for all the other people I’ve met and learned from along the way. Guys who pulled strings for me. Took risks on me. Believed I was the right guy for the job. You need to manage your relationships. You need to network, and meet people. Drawing comics is still a pretty good place for reclusive types—but if you want to work in big studios—Making games, Films, animation, basically any other type of job on the planet, you’d better start making some connections. Be likeable. Be professional. That doesn’t mean be an opportunistic ladder climber. Fake people lose in the end. Be yourself, but be professional. It’s no secret that when people are hiring, our first instinct is to bring in people we know. It’s human nature. I don’t like unknowns, even if their portfolio is awesome. If we have a mutual connection, if they have great things to say about you, you’re in. If you have AMAZING artwork to show, and I call your last employer and they tell me what a pain in the ass you are to work with, you’re done. Talent and skill only get you so far. I am literally amazed at how often I meet guys that are total assholes and think they are going to get anywhere.

5) Here’s the BIG ONE. The greatest obstacle you will ever have to overcome IS YOURSELF. And the Fear that you are creating in your own head. Stay positive. Stop defeating yourself. There are artists I know that are so damn good they make me pee my pants. I look up to these mofos. I study their shit and I want to draw like them. And they are almost NEVER working on their DREAM project. And—big surprise, they aren’t happy in their job. “Why NOT?! WTF is WRONG WITH YOU?!” is usually my reaction. And the answer is almost always “The market isn’t great right now” “Other stories/games/comics like mine don’t do very well” “The shit that’s hot right now is nothing like mine, It’s just going to fail.” “I’m not sure I’m good enough.” “I need the money.” “Too Risky.” “I tried it before and failed. ” It doesn’t matter what words they use, they are afraid for one reason or another. I know. I’ve been there.

But here’s the deal. YOU NEED TO TAKE RISKS. Guess what? YOU ARE MOST LIKELY GOING TO FAIL. If you want it—REALLY want it, that won’t stop you. You will learn A LOT. My good friend Tim constantly jokes about how I jump out of planes without a parachute and worry about the landing on the way down. You may think that I’m lucky, that it’s easy for me to say because I’m already successful, that I’m in a different situation than you all are. But it’s not true. Risk is risk, no matter what level you’re at. If you’re already successful, you just take even bigger risks. But they never go away. Everything in life is Risk vs. Reward. Not just in your career. LIFE. You’d better get used to it.

I didn’t know what the hell I was doing when I got into comics. I left the #1 selling book at the time ( Uncanny X-men ) to work on Battle Chasers during a time when 'Conan’ was about the only fantasy comic people knew. And no one was buying it. I wanted to work in games, so I started a game company. I had NO IDEA WTF I was doing. I just wanted it, really bad. We tanked. It failed. No big surprise. But the people I worked with got hired elsewhere and rehired me. I started ANOTHER game Company. We had 4 people and a dream, and some publishers wouldn’t even meet with us, because their 'next gen console’ teams had 90+ people on them. I literally got hung up on. “Stick to handheld games, it’s smaller, maybe you can handle that…” one MAJOR publisher told us. I don’t blame them. But we didn’t let it stop us. Thank god we didn’t listen to them. Vigil was born. Darksiders happened, AND we got to make a sequel. It stands shoulder to shoulder with the best games in the industry, and the most elite and experienced game dev studios in the world. How is that possible?!!! Hardly any of us had even worked on a console game before. I’ll be honest, I was thinking we would fail the whole time. I just didn’t care. If I had to play the odds on this one, I’d bet against us.

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Why am I telling you all this shit? This is not me patting myself on the back. It’s just stuff that has somehow only dawned on me recently when it’s been staring me in the face for so long. I feel like I need to wake you guys up!!! I’ve been limiting myself. I’ve gotten afraid. I’ve taken less risks. I saw my career going places I didn’t want to go. I wasn’t happy and I wasn’t excited. And I’ve realized, that all that stuff I just talked about is the reason I am where I am today. Not because I have a manga style, or I draw cool hands, or there’s energy in my drawings, or all the other things people rattle off to me. There are other guys that do all that same shit, and do it better. And amazingly, those same guys constantly tell me “Man, I wish I could do what you are doing.” “SO DO IT!!!!!” PLEASE listen to me—because I want you guys to make it. I want to look to one of you people for inspiration some day when it’s 2am and I need to keep drawing. Stop worrying about all the other stuff—the pencils, the paper, the anatomy, all that shit. It will only get you so far. You’ve already got most of what you need. I hope this helps some people. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for all the support over the years. You are all one of the greatest motivating forces in my life and my career. Sappy but true. Ok, let’s go draw some shit!!!“

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Nine ways to find the perfect bra

1. Manage expectations before you set out. If you are the kind of person who will try on two hundred awful bras and come home without one and hating humanity, consider whether it is possible that you already own the perfect bra. Often this can be achieved with only a small redefinition of the words ‘perfect’ or ‘bra’.
2. If you do lots of sports, try a sports bra. If you live on a balcony, try a balcony bra. If you are falling off a cliff, try a plunge bra. In general, your bra will be much happier if you keep it in its natural habitat.
3. Check if the bra is perfectly supportive. A good bra should listen thoughtfully to all your problems. A really good bra should not only listen but also phone for backup when you are hemmed in by Ukrainian mobsters on the roof of the ruined embassy at night. Finding this bra may require accepting the starring role in a film of dubious quality, but it will be worth it in the end.
4. Can you undo the bra with one hand? Can anyone undo the bra with one hand? What about two hands? Three? Can anyone take off the bra at all? Are its complexities within the wit of humankind to comprehend? If the answer to all these questions is no, buy the bra. You probably shouldn’t try wearing it, but it may be useful to keep valuables in.
5. Get measured first. Make sure to include all relevant quantities. For example, a bra which is not travelling at the same velocity as you is not very useful, and a bra with a significantly different temperature to you may be uncomfortable or on fire. Never purchase a bra that is on fire.
6. Consider that the perfect bra for one occasion may not be the perfect bra for another. If you are stranded on a desert island, that nipple-chafing mesh will be super-useful for catching fish. Consider investing in that bra with too much padding and/or too large a cup size if you believe that you might be ejected from an aircraft without a parachute at any time soon.
7. If you are feeding a baby, a bra that a baby can eat may be useful. Try materials such as woven rice or mashed banana.
8. If that one great once-in-the-Universe all-purpose bra is a requirement, it is quite likely that it belongs to someone else or exists only in the past or future. That does not mean obtaining it is impossible: far from it! You may need to become an intercontinental time-travelling space pirate, however.
9. Above all, consider what you want the bra for. Too many people go bra shopping with a limited, breast-centric worldview. This is understandable, but unambitious. It is not unreasonable to expect the perfect bra to be one that has saved lives, righted wrongs or made significant academic advances possible. For example, a planet-spanning bra towed by forty thousand space cruisers to bring Earth’s orbit in line with that of Mars to allow for the final evacuation of the human race would surely be better than that cute red one.

…well, that escalated quickly. I posted it way back at the end of 2014, it got reblogged by several BNFs in quick succession yesterday, and then it proceeded to rack up like 2,000 notes in one day, so apparently it still needs to be said:

Yes, you are allowed.

You are allowed to write the fic you want, rather than the fic you feel obligated to write. You’re allowed to write crack, crazy realism-defying stunts, self-indulgent trope fic, fucked-up fic about problematic people doing unhealthy things. Fic that doesn’t go through the pre-flight safety check for every swordfight and every BDSM scene, fic that glosses over the ugly real-life fallout of psychological trauma and/or jumping out of a quinjet without a parachute. Or, hey, if that’s your thing, fic that dwells on psychological trauma in loving, messy detail and has at least three punchlines about characters not being able to defy the laws of physics. Any of those things! All those things! We contain multitudes!

Any fic you write is probably going to be a net positive for fandom. The people who were looking for something in your niche get it, the people who didn’t know they wanted something in your niche discover a new thing they like, the people who don’t like it click the back button, the people who really really hate that entire genre of fic get to stroke their hateboners and get high off their own self-righteousness.

If it upsets people? The back button is a failsafe and instantaneous safeword. If it’s not as ~quality~ as other people’s fic? Don’t make me break out that “holy shit! TWO cakes!” comic. If someone takes away a disturbing, unhealthy, or otherwise less-than-wholesome message from your fic? You are not responsible for their failures of critical thinking or reading comprehension, to say nothing of those reading with outright malice looking for something to pounce on after interpreting it as uncharitably as humanly possible. Jesus fucking christ, it’s fanfiction, if people legit want sex ed they should be on Scarleteen. It’s not your job to educate them, certainly not with your fic. It’s not. It’s not. Fic serves so many other purposes. You are allowed to write what you want.

Ride

A Bucky Barnes One-Shot

Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1633

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Smut, Language, thigh riding, sex and mentions of the thighs of betrayal.

A/N: This is for @emilyevanston‘s Kate’s Cards Against Humanity Writing Challenge! Congrats on 1 year and 2k followers my dear!

Prompt: Powerful Thighs

Masterlist


Originally posted by marga-r


“Cause of death,” you whispered to Natasha, making her snort.

You took another bite of your cereal and watched Bucky walk over to the refrigerator. He opened the door and reached in, grabbing a water. You and Nat both barely held in groans when he tipped it back and took long pulls from the bottle, the muscles in his throat working vigorously.

He had been down in the gym with Steve. He hadn’t hit the shower yet so his chest was gloriously bare, sweat still clinging to his skin. The gray gym shorts he was wearing were hanging low on his hips, a peak of his black underwear visible. The sweat on his legs were making his shorts stick to his thighs.

That is the cause of death you had been referring to.

When you had entered the gym a half an hour ago to retrieve your hairbrush that you left in the shower room, Bucky had been doing squats. You had frozen in place as you watched the muscles in his back bunch with every movement. His shorts had stretched tight across his firm ass and had ridden halfway up his thighs. The muscles were straining as he bent deep, the weights on the barbell across his shoulders staying parallel.

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“A New Mission”

Request: Can you write one where Buckys gf has a 5 yr old daughter who’s very attached to him? She tells her class that her daddy’s an avenger and some of them tease her saying she’s lying. She’s in tears at the end of the day and tells her mom what happened. She tells Bucky so he picks her up the next day and she runs to his arms calling him daddy and he’s so happy to be a dad to this little girl The other kids are awestruck seeing him

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Dad!Bucky

Word Count: 1347

A/N: dad bucky fucks me up. let me know what you think. requests are open and let me know if you want to be on my taglist.


Originally posted by atbuckybarnes

“Ava! C’mon, we can’t be late. School starts in half an hour! Say bye to Bucky and meet me at the car.” You shouted at your five-year-old. She loved Bucky Barnes, your boyfriend. She even started to call him “dad.”

Today was her first day of kindergarten. She was super excited. She wanted to make friends and she wanted to meet her nice teachers. You watched from the car as Bucky walked her to the front porch. He bent down to her pint-sized height, and gave her a big hug. He couldn’t take her to school because Steve needed him for training in the morning.

Ava made her way carefully down the stairs to your little car. She was big enough to get herself into the car seat. You missed the days where you had to help her. She was just getting so big and you knew today was going to be emotional for you. You wished Bucky could’ve been there with you. There wasn’t going to be anyone to pry you away from the school when Ava gets dropped off. Today was going to be hard for you.

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If one thing must be said about my heart, it is this; She has felt the weight of gravity disappear, the fall without a parachute, she’s hit the ground and splintered over and over again. She’s foolish and gullible. But she’s persistent. She gets up everytime.
—  g.e. // May 3rd

° ✧ WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT PROMPTS.

triggers apply, mentions of death, murder, threats, sexuality and sexual/nsfw mentions. feel free to add/change pronouns.

❛ Anybody know you’re here? ❜
❛ Well, you see, I didn’t know where your office was. ❜
❛ In other words, the whole town knows you’re here! Get out! ❜
❛ You don’t know how hard it is being a woman looking the way I do. ❜
❛ You don’t know how hard it is being a man looking at a woman looking the way you do. ❜
❛ I’m not bad. I’m just drawn that way. ❜
❛ Don’t you realize you’re making a big mistake? ❜
❛ I didn’t kill anybody. I swear! ❜
❛ The whole thing’s a set up. A scam, a frame job. ❜
❛ My whole purpose in life is to make… people… laugh! ❜
❛ I’m out there risking my neck for you, and what are you doing? ❜
❛ Toons are supposed to make people laugh. ❜
❛ You don’t understand. Those people needed to laugh. ❜
❛ Then when they’re done laughing, they’ll call the cops. ❜
❛ A laugh can be a very powerful thing. ❜
❛ Why? Because you made him/her laugh? ❜
❛ Okay, nobody move! ❜
❛ You heard me, I said drop it! ❜
❛ I have to satisfy my sense of moral outrage. ❜
❛ I’d love to embrace you. ❜
❛ Put that gun down, you buck-toothed fool! ❜
❛ Give me another excuse to pump you full of lead. ❜
❛ So you thought you could get away with it, didn’t you? ❜
❛ Why, the real meaning of the word probably hits you like a ton of bricks. ❜
❛ We toons may act idiotic, but we’re not stupid. ❜
❛ You mean you could’ve taken your hand out of that cuff at any time? ❜
❛ No, not at any time, only when it was funny. ❜
❛ I would have been here right after you called, but I had to shake the weasels. ❜
❛ I want you to know I love you. ❜
❛ Is he/she always this funny, or only on days when he’s/she’s wanted for murder? ❜
❛ Can you guess what this is? ❜
❛ Freeway? What the hell’s a freeway? ❜
❛ Traffic jams will be a thing of the past. ❜
❛ Is that a rabbit in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? ❜
❛ Is this man removing evidence from the scene of the crime? ❜
❛ I see working for a toon has rubbed off on you. ❜
❛ What do I look like? A stenographer? ❜
❛ I’d say it was the booze talking. ❜
❛ Got a thing for rabbits, huh? ❜
❛ Search the place, boys, and leave no stone interned. ❜
❛ You think that’s funny? ❜
❛ No hard feelings, I hope. ❜
❛ You won’t think it’s funny when I stick that pen up your nose! ❜
❛ Look, the stain is gone. It’s disappearing ink. ❜
❛ The hand buzzer. Still our biggest seller. ❜
❛ So what happened, huh? ❜
❛ You can drop anything you want on his head, he’ll shake it off. ❜
❛ One too many refrigerators dropped on his head? ❜
❛ Don’t you appreciate the magnitude of that? ❜
❛ I’m surprised you’re not more cooperative. ❜
❛ Remember how they always thought there wasn’t a way to kill a toon? ❜
❛ That’s one dead shoe, eh, boss? ❜
❛ I would think you of all people would appreciate that. ❜
❛ I don’t know how many times we have to do this damn scene! ❜
❛ If you really needed money so bad, then why didn’t you come to me? ❜
❛ I’ve already got a stiff on my hands, thank you. ❜
❛ So I took a couple of dirty pictures, kill me. ❜
❛ Nose? That don’t rhyme with “walls.” ❜
❛ Seriously, what do you see in that guy/girl? ❜
❛ You need a heart, before you can have an attack. ❜
❛ Are you trying to give me a heart attack? ❜
❛ I can tell you now it ain’t gonna come cheap. ❜
❛ Question is, do you have the way? ❜
❛ Jumpin’ without a parachute? Kinda dangerous, ain’t it? ❜
❛ I don’t think you want it. ❜
❛ What the hell happened in here? ❜
❛ I’ve never seen a mess like this! ❜
❛ What do you call the middle of a song? ❜
❛ What do you think you’re doing, chump? ❜
❛ Don’t let me catch your peepin’ face around here again. Got it? ❜
❛ Stop that laughing. ❜
❛ You know what happens when you can’t stop laughing? ❜
❛ One of these days, you’re gonna die laughing. ❜
❛ We just want the rabbit. ❜
❛ What are we gonna do? ❜
❛ The best part is, they work for peanuts. ❜
❛ Work’s been kinda slow since cartoons went to color. ❜
❛ Long time, no see! ❜
❛ What are you doing here? ❜
❛ Remember you never saw me. ❜
❛ Boy, what is this, some kind of secret room? ❜
❛ That’s it. I’m calling the cops. ❜
❛ I come here for help and what do you do? ❜
❛ So long, and thanks for nothing. ❜
❛ Probably looking for a good place to stick a knife! ❜
❛ A laugh can be a very powerful thing. Why, sometimes in life, it’s the only weapon we have. ❜

You could legitimately lock Steve and Tony in a box with nothing in it, and Tony would find a way to escape that involved killing himself. He wouldn’t tell Steve. He’d use his own body to open a window 5,000 feet above the ground. Steve would jump out without a parachute. Tony would live. Steve would die. The Avengers would blame Tony. Tony would fall off the wagon. Five people Tony loved would die. Steve would come back and punch Tony in the face. Tony would do something awful to forget everything. They would become friends again. A motherfucking montage. Dates. Sub-textual sporting basketball, judo, Greek homoerotic mud wrestling. Tony’s girlfriend gets killed. Steve can’t commit to his. Rinse repeat x50. Probably also roller-skates, horrible Tony hairstyles, Pepper rolling her eyes, and Steve giving inconsolable rambling speeches about his sad man pain, and sleeping with his shield. 

anonymous asked:

I was really struck by something I read in one of your earlier replies to an ask, which was "we’ll never know what Rachel would have done after the war ended", and I wondered if perhaps you may actually have some thought about what might have happened if she did? How WOULD Rachel, who thrived in war, adapt to the mundane life after?

Jake

After a while Rachel’s aunt and uncle get so used to her stopping by that they just make her a copy of their house key; it’s easier than answering the door all the time or leaving a window open for her, besides which they’re grateful because she’s there almost every day to bully Jake out of bed and into the world to go do something.  Most days it’s just attending Habitat for Humanity builds in the devastated areas downtown or visiting kids from the local hospital who idolize them both.  Rachel doesn’t mind dragging Jake out of his room at all, because while Tobias is good for taking random college classes or exploring new parts of the country with her, there are still plenty of stupid things that she can only talk Jake into doing.  Together they surf during hurricanes, skydive without parachutes, swim to the bottom of the ocean as orcas and throw themselves off cliffs as birds of prey.  

Rachel doesn’t pretend to understand what he’s going through, because she quite simply can’t—if she even tries to think about what it would be like if it was Jordan or Sarah she’d had to kill during that last battle, she tends to lose the ability to breathe.  But while she can’t give him empathy she can give him this: the scream of wind rushing past their bodies as they hurl toward the ground at nearly a hundred miles an hour, the incomparable thrill of the ground approaching them faster than an oncoming train, the moment of simple euphoria during that millisecond decision to once again open one’s wings and tell death not today.  He doesn’t smile much, and never laughs, but that’s always been true to some extent.  She doesn’t concern herself with making him smile, but with forcing him to gasp for air in his refusal to give up on life, to morph when not doing so would mean drowning in the cold Pacific, to swerve a second away from spattering on the ground.  Because she’s the only one who understands the power of those moments to make them forget everything in the world except the heady rush of being so goddamn alive they can barely even stand it.

Marco

It’s strange, really, how tough and showy they can be around each other most of the time… and how vulnerable they can become when no one else is around.  Rachel’s pretty sure she’s the only one who ever saw Marco cry after they all watched Eva’s body tumble hundreds of yards to its apparent death, and she knows for certain that she’s the only one to whom he says “it’s like we never really got her back at all,” the day his parents announce their divorce.  In public Rachel and Marco become even more themselves, one-upping each other to see who can come out with the most embarrassing story in round after round of interviews and bantering at lightning speed as live studio audiences laugh and cheer.  Rachel gives a hysterical, exaggerated account of Marco’s failed attempt at gatecrashing William Roger Tennant’s award banquet; Marco comes back with a heroic narrative of how his llama-self saved an entire television studio from the crocodile Rachel conveniently forgot to mention she had puked out backstage.  When talking about the time Helmacrons invaded Marco’s nose, they each manage to make the whole mess entirely into the other one’s fault.  

In private, they sit on the back porch of Marco’s primary house once a week and work their way through a bottle of triple sec they’re definitely too young to own.  It’s during those long evenings as the sun sets over the Newport Beach mansions that they air the things to each other they’ve never told a living soul before.  Marco talks about the hard bright-edged joy of watching 17,000 yeerks sucked into space and only being able to imagine their screams.  Rachel confesses to having cried herself to sleep after she and Ax dropped David on that island.  They air their sickest thoughts, lance their most pus-rotted wounds, spew poison at each other because they know that they are both strong enough (hard enough, cold enough, ruthless enough) to take it and give back in turn.

Cassie

Rachel’s honestly not sure how far Cassie would have gotten, politically, if not for her help.  Because that girl might have passion and conscience and common sense to spare, but Rachel’s not sure she’s met a more appearance-clueless person in her life.  The world of politics runs on fashion and makeup, though, especially if one happens to be a woman, and any time Cassie’s about to go tell the United Nations why they need to update the Universal Declaration of Human Rights today to include the hork-bajir and taxxons, or to scold Congress into giving the ex-hosts war reparations and not murder charges, Rachel is there in the background helping.  She shows Cassie the power of stalking into a room in a pair of towering heels, the ways to make a string of pearls or a Chanel handbag into a weapon of power.  Cassie laughs incredulously every time Rachel shows up at her house with a literal truckload of perfectly-tailored business suits and evening gowns, but over time she starts to understand just how much her reputation for being as elegant as she is fierce can work in her favor.  

Rachel, in turn, starts to put out patents for the kind of clothes Cassie would love: comfortable and practical items that can be worn for years without needing replacement.  Rachel figures that if she’s an international trendsetter already (and she is: her line of perfume makes millions every year, while black leotards are debuting on Paris runways) then she might as well have her best friend and the world of high fashion meet in the middle.  Of course Rachel doesn’t explicitly mention that her patent-leather pumps with arch support and heel padding are inspired by the experience of trying on Cassie’s Timberlands, or that her choice of size-16 models for all her advertisements comes from making dresses that would fit Cassie and sizing up or down from there.  But what’s most amazing to her is that the other dressmakers and shoe lines start to emulate her choices, emphasizing the comfort and sturdiness of everything they make even as they tout it as “cutting edge.”  If Rachel has dragged Cassie into being a fashion icon, then it turns out Cassie might just have dragged Rachel into being a social justice warrior along the way.

Ax

Ax seems somewhat dumbfounded when Rachel explains that there’s an Earth tradition that any ship’s captain can perform a marriage ceremony, and that even if there’s no law on the books about this particular power she wants him to do it anyway.  She’s not sure herself how her and Tobias’s small private ceremony (at least, that was the intention) has grown so much, but even she has to admit that somewhere between the 230-person guest list, the custom chuppah to be hand-embroidered by a team of local artists, the five-tier cake imported from a German bakery, and the dress which is personally designed by Alexander McQueen, things might have gotten slightly out of hand.  Ax takes the duties very seriously, practicing the strange mouth sounds he has to recite more than once in advance and promising solemnly that he will not eat any of the cake until Rachel and Tobias have had the chance to cut it.  

He serves as their best man as well (probably breaking with tradition, not that they care) and the speech he makes afterward is surprisingly heartfelt.  «There has been no greater honor in my life than to fight by your side,» he tells them, «and I owe you both my life many times over.  I owe you more than that, of course, for you have made this strange planet my home when I came to you lost and alone.  I am not sure what humans traditionally wish for each other with a bond such as this, so I will wish you this much: may your lives be long, may your battles be easily won, may you be loved and feared in equal measure, and may your chili always be perfectly seasoned.» 

Tobias

It’s not like they get jobs, or hold down formal obligations, or do anything more structured than attend occasional classes at UCSB or consult with the fashion agency that sends Rachel freelance checks.  So there’s really no reason they can’t continue their odd lifestyle, only in the same form at the same time for two hours at most.  At least, that’s how it is for the first several years… and then one day Rachel comes out of the bathroom, a tiny white stick in her hand, and they both realize their lives are never going to be the same again.  Tobias is terrified, of course: he’s been abandoned (voluntarily or not) by two parents, four guardians, and countless authority figures, and he’s got no reason to believe he’ll be any different.  But he knows what the first step will be in committing to raising this baby for real.  And so he morphs human for the very last time.  

In the years that follow, after their daughter eventually gets a little brother as well, Rachel and Tobias become more boring than they ever could have hoped for.  Rachel starts working full-time as a fashion designer, while Tobias finishes an advanced degree in graphic design and gets a job with the marketing branch of the same company.  They go to PTA meetings and teach their daughter softball, buy a sedan with good gas mileage and a two-story house in Mendocino County where the reporters can’t find them.  They still get restless sometimes, leaving the kids with Loren or Sarah for a week or two at a time to go white-water rafting on the Colorado River or to climb mountains in Tanzania, but they always miss the kids enough to come home before long.  They donate thousands of dollars to end world hunger every year, and they fundraise millions more.  Someday they’ll retire.  Someday after that they’ll die.  For now, however, they’re alive, and that’s enough.  

No Parachute

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 2.230

Summary: Bucky just doesn’t need a parachute 

Warning: fluff

A/N: Hi you beautiful people! I’m still alive! heh. I’m still drowning in my thesis, but I didn’t like leaving you all with nothing so I wrote you this one! Hope you like it, feedback is always greatly appreciated. I love you all so much, and thank you for the continuous support. *big bear hug to you all*


“He did what?!”

“He jumped o-”

“I heard you the first time, I just.. he did what?!

Steve gave you a half smile, approaching you slowly to give you a reassuring hug but you held up your hand to stop him and he did. Glaring at him, he held up his hands in surrender and let you walk around him and down to the medical bay.

“Y/N, printsessa how are you today?” Pietro stepped in front of you, stopping you in your quest. Narrowing your eyes, you sent him a death glare that was cold as ice within a second he was out of your way.

When you finally reached the door to the medical bay Tony appeared. You groaned and tried walking around him but he stepped in front of you. Smiling like nothing was wrong. You glared at him.

“That look might work on everyone else, but not me, kiddo,” he smiled teasingly and went to ruffle your hair, you slapped his hand away.

Keep reading

Just a little Andreil Drabble ! X

**********


Neil’s head lolled against Andrew’s knee, bone knocking bone hard enough he felt his eyeballs rattle in their sockets. For somebody who had considered himself an excellent liar, it had become increasingly difficult to make up excuses to avoid Dan’s mandatory team-bonding movie nights. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy spending time with the team; over the past year he had grown closer and more intertwined with their lives to the point he ached when separated from them for too long. It wasn’t a hummingbird beat of anxiety, or the burn of grief, more of an acute tightness in his stomach. They were his family and he would do anything for any one of them… with the occasional exception of Aaron. But movie nights were when he truly regretted that closeness. For a high-strung runner and a paranoid renegade with a short attention span, sitting for hours watching films was not Neil’s idea of a good time. His legs itched with restless energy, his butt was numb from sitting for so long, and he was becoming increasingly irritable at the foxes stolen glances.

One of Andrew’s hands absently ran through Neil’s hair, tugging out stubborn knots and twirling lazy auburn curls which had recently began to develop sun streaks - much to the other foxes delight. The first time Allison noticed the lighter strands she had squealed so loud Neil had thought his stomach was going to drop right out of his ass. It was just another thing the foxes were adding to a bemusing list of his traits. The sun had also brought out a scattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, interrupted only by scar tissue. The foxes had been slightly obsessed, to the point where Neil had to snap at them when Nicky tried to trace the dots. He had found more than one of the team with a stray piece of paper covered in his doodles, but chose not to confront them. He would never admit it out loud, but it felt..nice to have so many people intent on learning little bits of Neil, and keeping the stray castaway moments. He was beginning to feel like a real person; he felt known.

“Refreshments?” Matt queried as the end credits rolled onto the TV screen.

“I think we’ll need to go to the store,” Dan answered, standing stiffly and stretching her arms above her head, laughing and jerking away as Matt slid cold hands up the back of her shirt.

“I’ll come with, you guys never get the right popcorn.” Allison said, pulling Renee up with her and grabbing her purse from the table beside the door.

“What film do you guys want on next?” Nicky asked, throwing pretzels at a dozing Kevin. “We have some back in our dorm.” he offered.

Neil let his cheek rest against the inside of Andrew’s knee, one hand curled around Andrew’s ankle, thumb smoothing circles on the inside cuff of his sweatpants. The entire exchange went in one ear and out the other, eyes drooping at the soothing feeling of Andrew’s hand on his scalp. It was worth a numb bum from sitting on the floor between Andrew’s legs, and the only thing stopping him from drifting into sleep was the sudden slam of the dorm door as everybody emptied out leaving just Andrew, Neil and a sleeping Kevin Day.

“If you fall asleep before they get back I’ll skin you.” Andrew threatened, tugging sharply on Neil’s hair.

“M’sleepy,” Neil mumbled back, turning to curl against one of Andrew’s legs.

“I let you drag me here, I’m not watching this shit while you get out of it.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Neil smirked, nuzzling his face into the crook of Andrew’s knee. A moment later he was face down on the carpet, a dull throb between his shoulderblades from where Andrew had kneed him away.

“You’re such a child,” Neil grunted, rolling onto his back and bracing himself on his elbows to meet Andrew’s bored gaze. The other man stretched his arms out on the back of the couch, an almost imperceptible twitch of his eyebrow the only evidence of his thoughts on that statement. “Would you rather be playing Exy? Because I could wake Kevin up and we can do down to the court.” Neil said, suddenly a bit more awake.

“I’d rather snort golf balls.” Andrew retorted after a moment’s silence.

“Nice visual threat,” Neil smirked, pushing himself up onto his knees. “I could make it worth your time.” he coaxed, resting his hands on the edge of the couch either side Andrew’s knees and leaning forward with a challenge in his eyes.

Andrew’s fingers itched for a cigarette, his eyes were tired and his contacts were becoming uncomfortable, his muscles were tight and he needed to walk out a bad case of pins and needles… but seeing Neil between his knees with heat in those damn blue eyes pushed all those concerns to the back of his mind. He still wasn’t sure how this runaway with a duffel bag of secrets and a body mapped with hard ridges of scars had gotten under his skin. He was the sharp blade of a knife, lethal enough to slice through armour and slip almost unnoticed under flesh. Some days Neil was an open wound; left untreated it could be fatal. Other times he was the needle and thread sewing Andrew back together. He was a skydive without a parachute, the more time he was around the higher the plane was going and the more deadly the fall was becoming.

“I’ll get you a family pack of Oreos, ten Reese’s and a tub of Double Chocolate Fudge… and marshmallows?” Neil offered, and Andrew regretted not leaping when they were only a few feet off the ground.

“Two tubs, and I want Lucky Charms as well.” Andrew agreed, pushing Neil’s face away as that stupid shit-eating grin split his face.

Neil caught Andrew’s hand as he went to bat at him again, linking their fingers together and leaning forward between his thighs. “Kevin will kill me if he finds out.” he murmured.

“He can try, but you’re noticeably difficult to murder.”

“Maybe I’m a cat - nine lives and all that?”

“You used up all nine about five lives ago.” Andrew said, watching as Neil turned their hands over and brushed his lips along Andrew’s healing knuckles.

“Come up here,” he said, tugging Neil up from the ground and nodding at Neil’s unspoken question. Neil clambered up into Andrew’s lap, knees on either side of the other man’s hips and hands resting on the back of the couch.

“Where can I-?”

“Head and shoulders,” Andrew cut in.

“Knees and toes?”

“Get out,”

“Couldn’t resist,” Neil admitted with a self-deprecating smirk, hands moving to cup Andrew’s jaw as their lips met. The kiss was slow and languid, wet and increasing in deepness as Neil’s thumbs slid along the arch of Andrew’s cheekbones and he fought against the urge to grind in Andrew’s lap. It was only when Andrew’s hands moved to cup the back of his thighs that he allowed his hips a startled snap.

“‘Drew, yes or no?” Neil panted, pulling back to press sloppy kisses along the underside of Andrew’s jaw, one hand bunching the soft fabric stretched taut across Andrew’s shoulders, the other tracing the strong line of Andrew’s jaw.

“Yes,” Andrew answered, hands gripping Neil’s thighs tight enough to leave bruises as he pulled the other man closer.

“No! No, no, no!” Kevin’s voice exclaimed, startling the two men. Neil was unceremoniously dumped on the floor, disorientated and panting, grasping for leverage. “For fuck’s sake!” Kevin stood, stumbling a bit under the influence of a half bottle of vodka. “You couldn’t have done that somewhere else?!”

“Kevin,” Andrew warned, watching as the larger man gestured wildly.

“Did you just forget I was in the fucking room?”

“You looked dead, we thought we’d celebrate your life rather than mourn.” Neil said as he finally managed to regain his balance and climb to his feet. In all the time he had spent with Kevin, sharing a dorm and long bus rides, it was possible he had never seen the other man wake up and become so alert in such a little amount of time. He would be trying to get video footage as evidence if the current exchange wasn’t happening.

“By fucking next me?!”

“If you think that was fucking, I feel bad for Thea.” Andrew said, watching as Kevin made an unintelligible noise and stormed from the room, shaking his head and muttering, too focused on putting one foot in front of the other to notice the dorm door swinging open. He hit it with a satisfying thud, followed by a dictionary of swears and Nicky’s surprised shouting.

Neil grinned as he heard Andrew exhale through his nose in what could have very easily been a laugh.

“Shut up,”

“Make me.” Neil countered, a noise slipping from him that he didn’t think he had ever made before as Andrew made a grab for him. It was possible there was going to have to be another tub of ice cream added to that list.