Matt Murdock Knows What’s Up.

Peom by Steeb.

Oh god I wrote a thing:

my name is Steeb and wen is night wen Avengers sleeping tite Hawkeye snorin in his nest wif teddy snuggled to his chest Widow in her webby place Bruce is somwher out in space

Tony werkin on his soots an Vision doin teh computes even Wanda disnt see or Sam when he get up to pee Thor he is not evn heer (probly on asgard drinkin beer) I sneek down to tha hangar bay an get in quinjet on my way

to Wakanda I will fly peopl no the reason why no one sees me i am lucky

i pres defrost i kis the Bucky

your problematic favs on christmas:

NAT: the drunk af aunt who spills gov secrets and her drink but still looks classy af

VISION: awkward uncle who stands under the mistletoe in an ugly christmas sweater mumbling about symbolic foliage and its origins, wants to kiss Mysterious fam friend

TONY: wasted cousin from out of town who invited himself, spikes the eggnog with asgards strongest booze and trips over his own feet as he slurs and butchers Oh Holy Night

PEPPER: Wasted cousins wine drunk gf, rearranges vegetable platters to be symmetrical, smells good, only eats organic food

CLINT: second cousin twice removed, sneaks bites from the food before it’s time to eat, disappears into the woods for half a day with nothing but a bow and three arrows

WANDA: mysterious fam friend who carries a knife and tarot cards, speaks in metaphor, lives on spicy food

PIETRO: Mysterious fam friends twin, volunteers to do the shopping, finishes within less than 10min, uses a whole roll of tape to wrap a single present, buys expensive gifts, flirts with Hyped up espresso girl, won the olympics //track// for 3yrs in a row before quitting

BRUCE: acts like a 86 year old grandpa, comes in from out of town just to rage over the thermostat being touched and silently observe everyone, hogs the tv remote

THOR: super spiritual hot guy from out of town, invited by a cousin, unnatural height, broke a cup just by holding it, talks about the universe while downing alcohol like it’s water, never seems to get drunk

JANE: tries to explain physics to a group of children, it ends with them throwing shoes into the fireplace bc “she says it could be a portal” “i said no such thing”

DARCY: makes out with the santa impersonator, hyped up on espresso, talks too fast, friend of Physics (see: jane)

BUCKY: the hot grandpa who still looks 23, appears homicidal in fam pictures, sneaks off with his childhood pal during prayers, has kissed him under the mistletoe 6x and honestly he’s just rubbing it in the single relatives faces now, never married, may or may not have killed a man in 1943, dresses like he’s going to a funeral, listens to johnny cash

STEVE: hot grandpa’s pal, also looks creepily young, tells you to Watch your fucking language, claims he could kill a man with nothing more than a garbage can lid, prob isn’t lying, wears suspenders, still goes to the gym, owns a working record player

LOKI: that one snooty relative everyone avoids, makes babies cry by smiling at them, tells the kids santa isn’t real, insults hot spiritual man in another language, cops are called to break it up

SHARON: repackages store bought pies, pretends theyre homemade, watches It’s A Wonderful Life every year, dresses like she’s going to an office meeting, brings a gun to christmas dinner, small but deadly, leaves early with Gov secrets aunt

SAM: answers everything sarcastically, ex military, irons his clothes, swears a lot, argues about how to properly cook a turkey before taking over altogether, smells like soap and the outdoors, tells Wasted cousin to back the fuck off, leaves mid dinner bc he thought he saw a very rare bird, brings his pal riley who is also his secret bf but everyone knows

RHODEY: neighbor who tells the same stories every year but changes minor details, has too much spiked eggnog and knocks over the tree, butchers christmas songs with Wasted cousin, bonds with Ex Military Sarcastic relative over the future of aviation, no one knows his real name

SCOTT: fresh out of prison, spends the entire time oogling Hot grandpa’s pal, makes you look at a seemingly endless stream of pictures of his daughter, hates baskin robbins, has an ant farm, overly physically affectionate

WADE: tries to kiss his sisters boyfriend under the mistletoe, wears crocs with socks, brings a bag of chimichanga’s that he refuses to share, his plus one is his blind elderly roommate, blasts rap music at one in the morning, has a witty retort on the ready, shamelessly wears a lewd christmas sweater, winks at your mom, seductively eats candy canes while maintaining eye contact

PETER: 16yo nephew who collects comic books, designated amateur photographer, watches star wars religiously, climbs things he shouldn’t, thinks the 90’s are vintage, actually a danger noodle

((if you have a request lmk and I’ll make one for that character. this was fun))

Could I use this as a fic prompt?

Bucky rolls over to lay on top of you in the mornings to make sure you don't try and get up

and when you do it to him he pretends that he can’t get up even though you weigh like a feather to him 

Fluffy Friday™ 

Me Trying To Learn Russian Someday

Teacher: Hello.

Me: Freight car.

The Merchant and the Soldier

Summary: Tony is a sick man. A cold man. He is fractured like the dying light.

Hands reach out and ask for more; money, weapons, power, contracts, apologies. They'd ask for his heart if they thought he had one. - In which Tony and Bucky have a solemn conversation in the early morning hours, and in which Tony struggles to hide his cruel urges and Bucky battles with his own broken mind.

"Of Glory, Honor, and the Road to Redemption" companion piece. (Does not need to be read to read this)

Link to series -> Of Glory, Honor, and the Path to Redemption

Warnings: confused state of mind, very brief mention of murder, suggested sociopath tony stark

Tony Stark is a sick man. A cold man. He is fractured like the dying light.

The others, they don't know this.

They see him as the world sees him; an egotistical man, even if that ego is valid.

It doesn't bother him most days. In fact, after Tony accepted he simply would never be friends with the rest of the Avengers, his life became easier.

The team thought him naive and childish, always pushing him away. Steve's pursed lips, Wanda's rolled eyes, Natasha's suspicious glares, Sam's grimaces. Barnes, of all people, actually tried to be amicable.. as amicable as a lost and feral soul can be.

But he had Pepper and Rhodey, and Happy and Gene. So quietly, wrathfully, Tony put distance between them, holding his head high and flashing that billion dollar smile.

Quickly he had settled back into his old routine.

Wake up (gasping), stumble (blearily), then settle (achingly) into his lab.

Invent (breathlessly); invent (tirelessly); invent (euphorically); until his legs give out and he collapses, once again thrashing in sleepless fits.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

They never noticed him, nor asked about him, unless something came up. It was alright. It was soothing. Between the White House, Wakanda, Stark Industries, SHIELD, and every terrorist from New York to Timbuktu, Tony really didn't have the energy to entertain backstabbing 'friends'.

The ignorance towards him quelled his ever present rage and helped him hide when he slipped up. When Tony lost control for a moment and everything rushed to a torrent between his ears, knuckles whitening, thoughts of revenge and vehemence urging him to kick them from his tower.

Eyes that judge never see the truth, and hands that are bitten eventually recoil. "But it would not be today," Tony tells himself calmly, with a smile, as he wipes coffee and shards from his hands. DUM-E beeps solemly, sweeping the remnants of a shattered mug away.

Hands reach out and ask for more; money, weapons, power, contracts, apologies. They'd ask for his heart if they thought he had one.

What a joke.

I need a new bow.

Sigh.

My suit is torn.

Twitch.

Upgrade the helicarrier by next Friday.

Breathe.

Gala at 6, conference at 11.

Smile.

Don't you have somewhere else to be?

Calm.

Nowdays it seemed to be Doctor Doom and his stupid Doombots, terrorizing New York and Chicago. Cap would call for him and they would all meet for a few hours. Defeat Doom for a day, and retreat.

Sometimes.., sometimes Tony would consider just ending Doom.

Killing him.

Feeling the man's skull squelch between his armored fingers. Laughing estatically as blood seeped into the carpet..

The man's infuriating plans were novice, but still destructive. Yet if he did.. that, Tony would never leave his tower. What would be the point? It would be rare for civilians to even be injured during these fights, so it really wasn't that bad to let Doom live. Not with the original Avengers, sans Clint, Thor, and Bruce, plus Spiderman, Barnes, Ant-man, Vision, and the twins. Together they formed a formidable team. They had every twist, turn, bullet, and bounce fine tuned to a well oiled and righteous fist.

At night when the world is asleep, he stands with a glass of whiskey and stares out across the twinkling skyline.

One time, Barnes happens upon him.

The reformed assassin appears surprised. Of course, Tony thinks, what kind of nutter stands in the shadows like a statue.

"Sorry," Barnes croaks out, turning to leave.

"Don't be," Tony hums. "Want one?"

The taller man half turns to face him with confusion written across his face.

Tony clinks his glass.

"Oh.. uh.."

"Sure," Tony supplies. "Come here," he gestures.

The faint city lights illuminate James Barnes as the man steps forward tentatively, feeling cornered and uncertain.

"I won't bite,” the industrialist hums. It’s almost a giggle; humorous and childlike.

Pouring amber liquor into a crystal glass, Tony moves from the shadows into the dim lighting with grace. "Here."

Barnes stares at him. Eyes wide and blue like a puppy, and finally, Tony does not feel thunderous cruelty in his veins.

"I.. thanks." Barnes replies, carefully taking the glass.

Moments of silence pass between them, comfortable for Tony and eerie for Barnes, before the supersoldier can't take the strange interaction any longer.

"Can't get drunk," he grunts, eyes cast far away and beyond the city, likely reliving horrors unimaginable. "Serum stops it."

Tony quirks an eyebrow, bringing his glass to his lips. "Not even on Asgardian mead?"

Barnes shrugs, "Haven't tried it. Could-could you imagine a raging drunk Winter Soldier?"

Tony stills and Barnes thinks he never should have accepted the drink, until Tony's cackling, biting laughter explodes across the balcony and into the night. Barnes jumps for a moment, rattled, but still smiles a little.

"That'd be pretty bad," Tony laughs raucously, "HOO THA HEEEYL IS BUHKEE?" he grunts out in a gravelly baritone, pulling a sour face. He wheezes as he laughs.

Incredulously, Barnes gapes at the mans audacity before his own laughter bubbles up, long forgotten and disused. They collapse against the railing, giggling like children, and bask in a strange but shared moment of comfort.

Tony sighs as he leans against a pillar, "Fuck this place. Just fuck it."

Barnes, who is still leaning against the railing in a state of bewilderment, turns his head. Tony’s moods were giving him whiplash but he wondered if the man was always like this and he had just never noticed. "Are you drunk, Stark?"

"No," the darker haired man snorts. "I'd need another ten, maybe twelve of these to be."

Barnes contemplates him silently, unsure of how to reply. He needn't have bothered, though, as Tony powered on.

"Don't you get sick of them?" Tony spat, face crinkling in anger. "The 'team'. Above everyone else, all mighty and just. Anyone can throw a shield or a knife, shoot someone in the head, and pretend they're a hero. Guess the only difference is, sometimes they are. But sometimes they aren't."

The Soldier is stunned and uncertain of what to say. Words do not come easily to him anymore. They are foreign and rusted, and if he isn't careful, inflict as much damage as his vibranium fist. He chooses his words carefully, certain the genius is aware of their weight, and likely, a victim of the same scathing repertoire the media aims at himself.

"They aren't fond of you," he begins lowly, "Because of your intelligence." It comes off as more of a question, and to which Tony mutely shakes his head. "Or because you don't fall in line," Barnes offers, feeling a dusty resurgence of fear towards his prior handlers. It hits him like a train and he supposes, if it's true, then he hadn't left it all behind him after all.

Tony confirms it with a bitter grin, "Bingo, amigo," he hisses. "What use is a soldier if I don't follow orders like a good little dog. Problem is I'm not a soldier and they know it. Pawns of war aren't supposed to be variables."

Barnes stays quiet, bothered by this revelation.

"You know why Natasha doesn't like me?" Tony asks, draining his glass. "When she applied to SI, I knew who she was. You can't hide from me," the man hisses, fist clench dangerously tight around the crystal glass. Tony's tone rattles him to the bone, stoking his paranoia. It’s so unlike the officious and enthused man who usually blitz’s around the labs, and more like a man.. a memory, vague, comes to mind. Probably someone from the war. From Stevie.. 

Of course, Barnes knew all about Widow's espionage. He had read their files; studied scrupulously to confirm Steve's assurances that they are not in fact HYDRA.

"She knows that now, she must. I let her join Pepper. SHIELD wanted something and I was interested. Her report, as I'm sure you know," he spoke dryly, "Stated 'Iron Man yes, Tony Stark no.' Simple verbiage, clear intent. But what they overlooked is even simpler. I had a change of heart in Afghanistan- declared a symptom of PTSD, but SI was only the company. Those weapons came from here," he tapped his temple. "Natasha took too long to realise this. Now she is weary of me. Thinks I'm a loose cannon. Naive. But she doesn't understand. Without me, SHIELD would not have been resurrected. The bows, the arrows, the Widows bites, the jets. They are me and I am them. The suit can fly and fight, but it's little more than a drone with a detonator without me,"

"Then why do you stay?" Tony shrugs half heartedly, eyes set hard upon central park.

He hums. "Thanos is coming."

A shiver races down the taller man's spine, icy like the tundra, like his old bed, like 1944. "For Pepper."

"For Pepper," Tony nods, "And Gene, and Happy and Rhodey, and humanity. What is right is not often wanted."

They return to a quiet, solemn companionship. In which Tony muses over his nightmares, over Thanos, the gaping void in the sky, and the blood thrumming in his veins. In which Barnes feels hollow, and cold, and longs for warmth and acceptance, but falls short, always riddled with paranoia as he fights the voice in his head. Eventually as the stars start to wink out, one by one, and the traffic below grows louder, James Barnes straightens up and asks one final question.

"If we live," comes the hoarse, tired words, "What will you do after?"

Tony bites his lip, hand wavering, before he drops his glass off the side and watches it plummet two hundred stories to the alley below. "The same as usual, pumpkin. Smile, wave, and dance. That's my job. Why, you think we won't win?"

Barnes looks at him sideways, wondering how this walking paradox of a man can be so raw yet so confident. "No." He admits. "Loki called him 'the Mad Titan'. The wizard is scared."

Tony breaks a real smile for a moment. "Wizards. Yeah, well, Loki's scared of Gene, too. Giant pussy cat."

Barnes just shakes his head, turning away from the balcony. "How come you aren't scared?"

Tony is strutting off with his hands in his pockets when he shrugs, and Barnes can almost see the smile on his face. "Oh, honeybun. Don't you know? I'm the Merchant of Death."

Hint.

You are a dying star.

Darcy and Bucky. 60: Before you decide to murder me, let me explain...

“Damn neat freak. Why can’t he just leave things out where I need them?” Darcy muttered as she shuffled through Steve’s desk as carefully as possible. If she’d had more time to take photo evidence and ensure she put everything back where it was, she would have. But she’d only been able to convince Nat to kick Steve’s ass for two bouts in the ring, maybe three tops. She didn’t want to encourage too much saltiness between teammates, after all.

“I don’t know if it’s the army or your own tight-assed nature Steve, but why the hell do you have to hide your stuff?”

He’d let her go through his sketches a week earlier and she’d found it. The perfect image she needed for her next attack on Sam. Steve had doodled him as a pin-up model, flirty posture, heels and everything. And it was the exact logo she needed to brand her new assault. Literally. If only Steve hadn’t taken away the notebook as soon as he heard her mildly evil chuckle. Spoilsport. 

If she could just find the damn sketchbook.

She had just started gently rifling through the sock drawer when there was a soft click and the door swung open behind her. Her hands clenched and she plastered a placating smile on as she turned her head. But her teasing cajole died in her throat. That wasn’t Stevie Wonder Boy at the door.

It was Bucky.

Shit.

“Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”

Keep reading

Truth Hurts

Part One?

Bucky x Reader Angsty Short

A/N: Wrote this on a whim (hence why it’s so short) and might write a second part (because I have a backstory already thought out). Don’t know yet…

You sat motionlessly in the modern chair. You matched the stillness of your surroundings, remaining hidden in the shadows of the dark room. Footsteps echoed in the hallway and your eyes studied the closed door. Each and every scenario played out in your head. Your mind fixated on the worst, however you knew that wasn’t the case. No matter the man’s skills, you were better. You were faster. You lacked morality. You had to.

The footsteps paused for a brief moment before the door swung open. The lights switched on as the man entered his room and to the untrained eye, a knife magically appeared in his hand. You fought off a smirk knowing he had been carrying it around with him all day. A sense of assertion wanted you to laugh and steal the knife away, but you couldn’t. No emotions. Not with him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Confusion, anger, and pain were noticeable in his voice.

“Steve called me.” You remained still. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” He set the knife down; your eyes caught a faint glisten of metal under a midnight colored glove. 

“Moving on.” Your chest tightened and you adjusted your wording. “You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore, that’s behind you.”

“But-”

“No.” You sat forward. You knew every word you were going to say would rip and tear and shred yourself in his eyes, and in yours. But Steve asked you to do this, you were the only one who could. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes.”

“That’s not who I am anymore.” Bucky whispered.

“Get over it.” Your hands instinctively tightened around the armrests and your nails indented the plastic. “You killed people, so what? Yeah, that sucks, but they’re dead. They’re dead, James, you couldn’t stop it and you can’t change it. They’re gone, they can’t be brought back.”

His eyes were trained on the ground. He opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“And don’t give me that ‘but I did it, I killed them’ bullshit. Yeah, you did. You can’t change that, James! It happened, all you can do now is move forward. Because if you hadn’t killed them, we both know damn well someone else from Hydra would have.”

Tears formed in his eyes and you begged yourself to stop but you couldn’t. Sometimes you had to break a person to fix them.

“And you know what, you’re right. Everything, everything, that has happened is because of you. Hydra becoming what they did and infiltrating SHIELD? That’s because of you, that’s because of the Winter Soldier and everything you did as him. Howard’s death? You. The entire fall of SHIELD? You. Breaking apart the team and Steve losing his shield? You. This all happened because of you. Everything.” You shoved yourself up from the chair and walked towards the door. 

Bucky sat slumped over in his. His breathing was uneven and his hands covered his face. A few tears fell to the floor before he could stop them. His body shook as he took in another breath. An ache as sharp as a knife plunged into your chest and raced down into your stomach. Spots filled your vision and nausea swirled your mind. You stopped before leaving and steadied your voice before speaking the words that you had been waiting to say, ones that you knew would help him. 

“But without you…what exists now, what we all have now, happiness, admiration, teamwork, friendship, love…it wouldn’t exist. Without you, we’d be nothing.” 

Steve: “Buck, stop! You’re going to kill someone!”

Bucky: “Bucky never meant to kill. Bucky only meant to maim or seriously injure.”

Actors are not yours.

I’ve seen a lot of bullshit going around in fandom, and I think it’s time that we cleared some things up. The touching without permission(!!!!!), the asking of inappropriate and uncomfortable questions - it’s wrong and it’s got to stop.

Imagine if you were at work and a customer who you didn’t know came up and touched your face while making a sexual innuendo. Imagine how embarrassed and violated you would feel. Now imagine that this happens on a regular basis, and you might have some idea how this behaviour impacts the people you’re accosting.

Actors at cons and press conferences are just trying to do their job, and while, granted, part of that job is to entertain, it is only within the confines of a film that has been written and directed (often) by someone else. Getting angry at them about their characters actions? Wrong. Touching them without their permission? Wrong (and I can’t believe I need to write this!!!). Asking them questions that make them feel uncomfortable and objectified? Wrong, wrong, a thousand times wrong!

Outside of their film, it is not their job to entertain you. It is certainly not their job to entertain your harassment, sexualisation and objectification. You do not have the right to touch them, to ask inappropriate and often sexual questions, or to get angry with them about their characters or their opinions of these characters. You do not have a right to these people and their bodies! 

Full stop, period, end of fucking discussion.