#mcu {smooth talker}

[kingofthewebxxx]

Muse Status:

Don’t tell or try to persuade James he is a mutant in his MARVEL Verse, unless you want an argument.

I am getting the glare for even considering the idea.

[kingofthewebxxx]

Of course he had a sound head on his shoulders, slightly insane and passionate but he loved it about the other, he felt Erik was stating the obvious and rolled his eyes. “Let’s not pretend you don't want this as well dear, you support his ambition because it is yours” he said plainly, taking a sip of bourbon, it hit the back of the healed wound at the back of his mouth as he roughtly swallowed it down. “Well thank you! Perhaps you should print it onto a t-shirt, anyways unless you have anything else to say I will be off, people to see and all that”

@mxgneticperscnality

@kingofthewebxxx asked “Such a sensitive little thing aren’t you, I approve if it is indeed what Asriel, likewise, your opinion means damn all to me” he imitated his tone. “Sending my love, have fun”

"You're right, if it's what he wants then it can't be all bad now can it. I think the man has a sound head on his shoulders and knows what he's doing." Erik laughs, tilting his head to the side and looking at Jim "You know you're alright for a pain in the ass."

[utilitycaster]

Stuck my I Voted sticker on my stress ball due to the joys of living in a swing state.

Valinari Ziegler (or Nari for short) was a character I played in an Exandria campaign that unfortunately died a few years ago due to scheduling issues. He was a half-elf Shadow Sorcerer who eventually multiclassed into Rogue (when the campaign died he was 6 Sorc/2 Rogue, I probably would have gone either Swashbuckler or Mastermind if I'd gotten to level him up).

When I created him, I had two thoughts in mind: I wanted to do something fun with the Shadow Sorcerer ability that allows them to possibly stabilize at 1 HP when they would otherwise drop to 0, and I wanted to create a character with a vested interest in being in an adventuring party (because I've noticed that a lot of the time people struggle to come up with a reason their characters all want to be in a group). I ended up landing on the idea that he was a former member of the Deastok Myriad who was betrayed and almost killed by another member on the orders of someone higher up (only surviving due to his sorcerous abilities kicking in), but he had no idea who or why. His goal, then, was to make powerful friends and come back to find out why he was killed and get revenge.

Once I started playing him, however, a few things I didn't anticipate happened. First, I made him in Heroforge and inadvertently made him look like the MCU version of Loki (I had already named him after the mythological Loki's children), which prompted a whole bunch of jokes from my group and ended up informing his character a good bit--I'd always planned him to be a smooth talker, but the Loki lean in characterization made me more inclined to embark on stupid plans that bit me in the ass as often as they worked out (this also meant I was the character that pushed the shiny red button more often than not, and it caused me to utter the line "Fuck it, I have poor impulse control and proficiency in CON saves", which is one of my favorite things I've ever said in D&D). Among other things, he managed to con a treasure map from a merchant by exchanging it for a piece of bent metal that he claimed to have come from the Whispered One's stronghold but actually was pilfered from a dead kobold, but he also almost got killed by a fiend that he had threatened thinking that she was imprisoned in a way that she couldn't harm him. The other thing that happened was the classic character development of him initially seeing the other party members as instruments of his revenge but coming to care about them (in particular our party's Druid was very nice to him and, in her player's words, immediately engaged Mom Friend mode upon hearing him refer to her, the person she'd traveled with for two weeks, as his oldest and dearest friend and our Monk was both interested in the way he operated and willing to call him out on his bullshit--they had a really fun dynamic).

Mechanically, Nari is one of the characters I've put the most thought into build-wise, and I had a lot of fun playing him in combat. His build was centered on the spell Shadow Blade combined with the Shadow Sorcerer ability to cast a version of the Darkness spell that only the caster can see through. Throw in sneak attack I was doing a lot of damage. The DM also gave me a magic item that allowed me to teleport in dim light and darkness 3 times a day--it was, however, identical in appearance to MCU Loki's stupid helmet.

Hey! I saw your other message, and no, i just got off Tumblr and went to bed last night for my own well-being before seeing this, no worries about word count.

I know it feels, well, kind of silly to finish up now, but I do want to thank you for voting. It's by no means the only tool we as people in the US have to express our opinion nor to enact change, but it's certainly one of the lowest effort for the highest impact and it has become bizarrely fraught on online spaces. And so silly ask memes are by far from the only thing I do around elections or in my advocacy; but they are one of them, and I hope to continue doing them for a long time.

Getting to the actual character, I think Nari sounds all around great. "Why is my character here" is perhaps the most important thing you can ask yourself in any story, whether it's D&D or original fiction, and a lot of people don't, so having a character with clear motivations available is not faint praise: it's a sign that you put care and thought in and I think the relationships your character was able to build with others in the party reflect that. I also think the Darkness + sneak attack combo is a really creative and fun multiclass - a lot of my frustration with rogues is that I love a cool assassin in fiction but D&D mechanics explicitly make being a rogue in that archetype almost impossible, and I think you reclaimed that. And I love a big red button pusher. There's hooks! Find them!

Anyway this game and Nari sounds great, and man, I kind of hope for your sake there's a way to revive it.

[black-dhalias]

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[pedrito-friskito]

twelve months with the devil - chapter three: december - part i

summary: matt asks for a favour, and you’re happy to oblige.

warnings: no warnings here really, pretty tame, if not just a bit emotional.

a/n: one thing to note - this fic contains matt as a character, and elements of the MCU, but I am tweaking things (plot points/background details/etc. etc.) - keep an open mind!

(series masterlist) (main masterlist) (ao3)

You do talk soon. You talk a lot, actually, even after you’ve signed the documents Matt and Foggy hand-deliver, accompanied by more doughnuts. “Powdered sugar won’t buy you much, Nelson,” you joke, the words said around a bite of doughy goodness, “but it will buy you my affection.”

It pulls a smile out of Matt, and Foggy blushes bright red.

That’s the last time you saw Matt in the flesh, in truth. Most of your nights are spent on the phone with him, when he isn’t…occupied. Sometimes he’ll call after he’s gotten back from whatever ass-kicking he’s delivered — not that he tells you — always chalking up his gruff voice to a late night at the office or a few too many beers at Josie’s with Foggy and Karen.

You don’t mind, telling him he can call you whenever he wants and you’ll answer; your sleep schedule has dissolved into chaos since the Alleyway Incident, as you call it, and you like the sound of his voice just as much as he seems to like yours.

And there’s something different about those late night/early morning calls, something hidden in the rasp of his whispers, the way he says your name like a prayer, his easy praise and easier compliments. Matthew Murdock is a smooth talker, and thinking you were in trouble after that first night on the roof had been an understatement.

You were in deep. You are in deep.

The phone conversations aren’t as information-filled as you’d like, and there’s been more than one occasion where you’d nearly blurted out that you knew his secret. But really, how does one go about that? I know you’re the masked vigilante that roams Hell’s Kitchen and saved my life — can we make out now?

You know he wants to ask about your past — there’ve been a few close calls, questions you skirt around far too quickly, half-truths that roll off your tongue all too smoothly. Lines you’ve been saying for a long time. “Tony and Pepper got me out of a…bad situation, and I probably won’t ever go back to Nevada. It’s in the past, and it can stay there.”

“A bad situation can mean a lot of things,” he’d returned, and you could hear that slight change in his tone, that instantaneous slip from your friend/potential lover/gigantic crush to the lawyer version of Matt Murdock. “Trust me, I’ve seen my fair share.”

“I don’t doubt it, and I do trust you, Murdock. Probably more than I should. But I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

He’d gone quiet for a second, before, “You don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to. But if I can help, if you need legal advice or representation or anything like that, then please, let me.”

You’d nearly burst into tears on the phone, quickly changing the subject and asking him to tell you about the first case that had made him feel like a real lawyer. It was distraction enough, but even after you hung up the phone, the offer sat heavy on your chest.

It would be so easy to spill your guts, to tell him everything, just lay it all bare. But then where would that leave you? What would he think of you then? Would he admit who he was if you told him what had really happened?

The questions linger in the back of your mind, so you keep your mouth shut, and it hasn’t come up since. Your secret, or his.

You’ve both managed to skirt around the rescheduling of your dinner date, as well, much to your dismay. Matt is busy, with both his day and night jobs if the papers reporting on the Man in the Mask are anything to go by, and you’ve been working your way back up to well, working, slowly but surely. Pepper had all but forced you to take a break, quite literally pushing you out of the office the first day you’d tried to go back. It had been too much, and you appreciated her looking out for you.

Your bruises have mostly healed, save for the cut on your lip that you’ve formed a bad habit of biting at, and thanks to a little science from Tony, the gifted rose is still intact, perfectly preserved and still as sweet as the morning you’d found it. You’ve also contemplated mentioning the flower to Matt, too, but haven’t yet.

When he calls you out of the blue on a Tuesday morning, however, you feel like something’s coming.

“What are the chances I could ask a favour of you?”

+

The favour turns out to be driving Matt, sans Foggy, upstate to see a client. It strikes you a little odd when only the Murdock side of Nelson and Murdock climbs into the white Jeep Tony has leant you for the excursion, and you say as much. “Foggy doesn’t know about this client,” he answers a little too quickly. “It’s…off the books, I guess.”

“Super secrets,” you reply, watching to make sure his seat belt is buckled before you pull away from the curb outside Matt’s office. “I’ll add it to the list.”

“Between the two of us, we could write a book filled with our super secrets,” he jokes, “but then, I guess it wouldn’t be much of a book, since they’re secrets.”

“Invisible ink!” you offer, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him grin. “Do people even actually use that stuff, or is it just in spy movies?”

“I’ve yet to encounter invisible ink,” he tells you, “but the moment I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Good.”

The conversation comes easily as you pull onto the freeway, having punched in the address Matt provided into the car’s GPS. It’s a chilly December day, snow lightly falling as you drive. You like driving, you’ve always liked driving, and you have to admit your heart picked up a little at the prospect of spending a few hours in a car with Matt Murdock.

You find a Starbucks with a drive-thru, waving off Matt’s offered cash and ordering the most Christmassy drinks you can. Matt makes a face when you hand him one, his expressive eyes hidden behind his glasses but the frown on his mouth telling you more than enough. “This smells more like sugar than coffee,” he grumbles.

“It probably is,” you agree, giggling and sipping at your drink, which happens to taste more like a sugar cookie than a latte, complete with sprinkles on top, “but I’m still shocked you’ve never had a peppermint mocha, so drink up.”

“Really, that shocks you?”

“Zip it, Murdock, and drink.”

He grins like the devil at you, but does as you ask, somehow managing to get whipped cream all along his upper lip in the process. You find yourself staring as his tongue darts out to lick it away, and he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb before sucking it clean.

Deep. You’re in deep.

Eyes on the road, you think to yourself, setting your drink down and putting both hands on the wheel. It’s unfair, how distracting he can be, just sitting there. And then he adjusts himself in his seat, planting his elbow on the console between you two, his arm pressed against your shoulder. He’s so warm.

After a few minutes, you catch him trying to slip the money you’d waved off in the drive-thru into your purse, and reach out to smack his hand away, pulling a quiet yelp out of him. “Put it away, Matthew,” you scold, pushing at his wrist. “I mean it.”

“Let me give you some money,” he protests, pushing back against your hand. “For the gas.”

“I don’t need your gas money!” you laugh, grabbing the bills from his hand and tossing them in his lap.”I mean it, Matt. It’s fine. What are friends for, right? And I don’t I already owe you and Foggy for the representation, technically?” He sighs, tipping his head back and stuffing the money back into his pocket. “You’re talking to the girl living rent-free at the Avengers Tower, working for Stark Industries, and my sister signs my paycheques. Trust me, I can afford the gas.”

“You’re bragging,” he says, rolling his head on his shoulders towards you, sly grin on his stupid handsome face, “just for the record.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He waits a beat, the smile fading slightly. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

A vicious blush crawls up your face and you bite the inside of your lip, happy he can’t see it. “I wasn’t sure what to call it. Friends seemed like a good place to start.”

He purses his lips, leaning further sideways so his arm is pressed tighter to yours. “Well, then I’ll have to owe you a favour, friend.”

“Please,” you start, shaking your head, “you saved me from another day in the Tower, most likely shuttered in my room, pondering my existence. You know, the regular Tuesday schedule. So, no return favour required. Happy to do it.”

“And the pondering of your existence,” he asks, “does that have anything to do with what happened last month?”

You heave a breath, leaning forward to adjust your gaze as you turn right, following the GPS’s directions. “Ding, ding, ding, give the man a prize,” you mumble, biting harder at the inside of your lip. “Didn’t know you were a lawyer and a shrink, Murdock.”

He says your name like a warning.

“Sorry, that was mean,” you say instantly, pushing a hand through your hair as you continue down the road. “It does and it doesn’t, but it’s fine. It happened, it’s over with, I’m alive and it could have been much worse. End of story.”

You’re not sure why, but the conversation feels like an opening, and for once, you leap at it.

“And I can add you to the growing list of people I owe my life to.”

The car falls so silent, Matt going so incredibly still that you’re sure he’s stopped breathing. You’re holding your breath, waiting for him to say something, and when you chance a glance at him, you see his mouth slightly parted, his hands now folded in his lap like a child being scolded.

He says nothing, so you just keep talking.

“I know,” you say, “that it was you. That night in the alley. I don’t know how I figured it out, drunk as I was, but I saw your mouth under the streetlights, heard your voice, and bam, puzzle complete. It just clicked. And that, coupled with the way you kissed my forehead before you disappeared. I had a hunch,” you chance another glance, he hasn’t moved, “a very strong hunch. And then I saw you, the next night, when we were supposed to go to dinner, on the roof across from the Tower, and I knew I was right.”

Still nothing, no movement. You’re tempted to check for a pulse.

“I know it was you,” you continue,” and you don’t need to tell me. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. It’s not my secret to tell. But I know. And thank you.”

Finally, he speaks, sagging slightly in the seat, his arm like fire against yours. “You don’t have to thank me.” He shakes his head slightly. “I heard you scream and I just…” He pushes a hand through his hair, scratches at his jaw. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” you say, glancing between him and the road. “I do have to. And I will say, I admire the moral code, with the no killing thing. It’s refreshing.”

There’s the tiniest of twitches at the corner of his mouth. “Says the girl who’s friends with the Avengers.”

You grin. “I’m not friends with all of them,” you admit, “but the whole Hulk Smash thing doesn’t exactly fall in line, does it?”

“I suppose not,” he agrees, nodding once. “Neither does your friend Natasha. The assassin.”

“Nat is…complicated,” you say, biting back your grin. “And looking out for my best interests.”

“Ah,” he murmurs, “that explains the pretty red-head lurking in the building across from my office.”

“You saw her?” you ask, balking before realizing how silly the question is.

Matt chuckles. “Foggy did. Gave me a…detailed description. I assume that means you told her about me?”

You inhale, reaching for your drink. “Your name might have come up, once or twice.”

He laughs again, the sound music to your ears. It’s not exactly how you’d envisioned having the conversation, and you haven’t gained much more information than you already had. But he knows that you know, and for now, it’s enough.

You set you drink back in the cup holder, and your hand lingers over the gearshift. It takes less than a second for Matt to slide his hand beneath yours, fingers laced together, palm warm as anything.

+

The rest of the drive is quieter, the silence there but not awkward, your hand folded in Matt’s. He weaves his fingers through yours over and over, your knuckles knocking together, his thumb tracing shapes in your skin.

As the miles tick down on the GPS, you notice Matt’s demeanour change, his shoulders bunched up around his ears, his grip on your hand tightening.

He only tries to offer you money once more, saying he feels bad that you’re doing all the driving and he’s just sitting there.

“How about you buy me dinner when we get back to the city?” you offer, and while his shoulders don’t loosen, the corner of his mouth quirks.

“I guess that’s a fair trade.”

Finally, you make the last turn, passing through large metal gates and driving up a long, winding driveway that leads to a pretty house tucked amongst evergreen trees, a small lake not far off. There’s one car parked out front, a neatly tended garden blanketed with snow and a pathway leading to the house that’s clearly been freshly shovelled.

“Nice place,” you comment, pulling the Jeep into the space behind the parked car. Matt unbuckles his seat belt and you reach for yours. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, no,” he says with a shake of his head. “I know the way.”

“Matt, there could be ice, you could fa—”

Lightning quick, he reaches across the console and takes your face in both hands, his palms warm against your cheeks, fingers just brushing your hairline. Instantly, you’re back on the rooftop, back under his grip, his lips locking with yours. The kiss is different from the frantic, heated one on Halloween, but it sets you on fire all the same. He drags his mouth across yours slowly, intimately, kissing your bottom lip, then your top one, then the bottom again, teeth catching on the split in your lip. It sends a spark of pain across your mouth and you taste copper, but it only stokes the fire.

“Shit,” he whispers against your lips, pulling away. “You’re bleeding. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You quiet him with another kiss, your hands reaching for his wrists. “Don’t apologize.”

He groans into your mouth, yanking his mouth away from yours with a twist of his head, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, the warmth of his breath on your face smelling of chocolate, peppermint, and coffee. “I should go inside. Don’t move, okay? Just stay,” a peck beneath your left eye, “right,” the bridge of your nose, “here.” Then your right eye. “I’ll be quick.”

“Okay.”

When you open your eyes, he’s gone, the car door shutting as you settle a little deeper into the driver’s seat. True to his word, he does know the way, his cane barely touching the ground as he makes his way to the door. You watch as he lifts his hand to knock, and a moment later, a woman dressed in Christmas-coloured scrubs answers, smiling at him and stepping to the side so he can enter.

The door closes and you busy yourself, flipping through radio stations before settling on a Christmas station playing all the oldies. Frank Sinatra croons his way through Baby, It’s Cold Outside, and you stare at your phone, replying to texts from Pepper and Nat and Caleb. The snow is coming quicker now than it had been in the city, and before you know it, an hour has passed and there’s nearly five inches of it sitting on the hood of the car, the previously shovelled pathway now hidden beneath the white.

Another half hour, another three inches on the ground, and you’re starting to worry that the trip back to the city won’t be easy. You check the weather reports, which all tell you the snow is not stopping anytime soon and to basically hole up where you can.

Tony answers on the first ring. “Hey, kid, how goes the unknown journey?”

“Fine,” you answer, peering through the windshield up at the grey sky above. “This weather is something else though.”

“Well, the Jeep is all-terrain,” he laughs, familiar beeping in the background, “but there’s always the cabin if you’re worried. You and Murdock could hole up for the night, drive back once the roads have been cleared.”

“Cabin?”

“I’ll send you the address,” he responds, “not far from where you are now.”

You sigh. “You’re tracking me?”

You can almost hear the nonchalant lift of his shoulder. “The car is hooked up to Jarvis’s network, kid. Just keeping an eye out, you know how it is.”

Another sigh. “I do. Thanks, Tony. See you tomorrow then.”

“See ya, kid,” he says. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Hah, that narrows it down.”

He just laughs and the call disconnects.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opens, revealing a ruffled-looking Matt, and you’re out of the car, the hat and gloves you’d grabbed on your way out shielding you from the falling snow, brush in hand, wiping what you can from the car. “Hey, wait there!” you call, setting the brush on the hood and picking your way up the path to the door, grateful for your boots. “It snowed a lot while you were inside,” you say, reaching where Matt is standing and putting your hand on his arm, letting it slide down to his wrist. His breath is heavy, sending puffs of steam into the air between you. “Stay close to me.”

“Okay,” he whispers, and you don’t miss the way his voice breaks on the word. Your eyes narrow, raking across his face, and you can see the trail of wet along the side of his nose, the slight red gathered around his eyes beneath his glasses. For a minute, you think it’s just the reflection of the lenses against his skin, but as you approach the passenger’s side of the car, he slumps against you, hooking an arm around your neck. He murmurs out your name, voice breaking again, and you realize he’s crying.

“Hey,” you say, instantly trying to soothe him. The snow is still falling, flakes catching in his hair and settling on his shoulders. His hand settles around the back of your neck, pulling you against him, and you hook your hands under his arms, pressing your gloved palms against his shoulders. “Hey, hey, what happened?”

He puts his face in the curve of your neck, and you can feel the tears falling against your skin, sliding beneath the collar of your sweater. His breaths are shaky, and when you repeat the question, hugging him tight, he just shakes his head against your skin and mumbles, “Not here.”

“Okay,” you say, and pull back slowly, kissing his cheek as you go. His face is flushed and you brush the snow from his jacket, moving him backwards carefully so you can open the passenger door.

Once he’s settled, you close the door softly, your heart breaking a little in your chest as he pulls his glasses off and covers his face with one hand, a broken sob falling out of his mouth. You finish cleaning off the car the best you can, then toss the brush in the trunk and get back into the driver’s seat. He’s slumped forward, elbows on his knees, forehead pressed against the dashboard, shoulders shaking slightly. He flinches when you pull the door shut, and you start the car again, turning on the heated seats and tossing your hat and gloves into the backseat.

“That wasn’t a client,” you say quietly, “was it?”

He doesn’t move, but whispers out, “No.”

Your phone beeps then, a text from Tony appearing on the screen. It’s an address, coupled with the code to the front door. You put the address into the GPS, sighing with relief when you see it’s only half an hour from your current spot. “It’s still snowing,” you tell him, your voice still quiet, “and it’s not gonna stop. It’s dangerous, to drive back to the city now.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, leaning back in the seat, hands fisted on his knees. “I should have…I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” You lean across the console, putting your hand on his leg. Slowly, his hand unfurls and he covers your own with it, rubbing his palm across your knuckles. “You can’t control the weather, Murdock. It’s okay.” He seems to chase your voice a little, his head hanging forward, lips parted as his temple rests against your forehead. You stretch your neck until your lips graze his jaw. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Another shaky sob falls from his mouth and your other hand reaches up to rest against the back of his neck, thumb rubbing along his hairline. He inhales deeply. “That’s my line.”

You kiss his cheek this time, snaking your hand up the back of his head before leaning back in your seat and reaching for the wheel. “Tony sent me the address to his cabin. Said we can crash there till tomorrow, wait out the snow and head back when the roads are clear. And I’m sure there’s a cabinet full of liquor.”

“Thank god.”

You turn the car around and head back up the drive, pulling carefully onto the now snow-covered main road and following the GPS directions. Matt’s hand finds it’s way to your thigh and stays there the whole way to the cabin.

[marvel-ousnesss]

MCU CAST AND CHARACTERS RECS (will be updated as I reblog)

(Now that you’re at it, PLEASE read and help spread this post, my country’s in the middle of a massacre. Literally takes two minutes)

Birthday (The Avengers x reader) by @yourmcu

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I'll Make It Short by @kingbuckyx

(Bucky Barnes x reader)

Sunflower by @softlybarnes

Little Star by @the-goddamn-queen

Double Blind by @wkemeup

Hold my hand by @chaoticarson

Upper Hand by @eurynome827

Friday Night Dates by @angrythingstarlight

Safe keeping by @mallowswriting

Bandit like me (criminal!bucky) by @summergrls

Where she is an ex-avenger, and his closest friend left after Steve’s gone by @modern-vellichor

Green by @itsapeterthing

Liability by @buckyblues

Bruises by @baroquebucky

Deeper wounds by @cunaeparker

A mutually assured attachment by @cacoetheswriting

Cool you down, Heat you up by @angrythingstarlight

Swipe right by @honeysucklesteve

Stuck Wit U series by @slyyywriting

Raw by @buckysboobs

Laundry Day by @petersspidey

I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you by @directorstarc

Movie night by @awhitewolfandhisvibraniumshield

Pretty face on a pretty neck by @whistlingwillows

Find Me by @wicked-mind

A cup of coffee for your head by @saint-bvcky

Deserve You by @sunny-reys

by @buckybarnesdiaries

OTCHET O MISSII

I'm coming home

All good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you (Mob!Bucky) series

by @xbuchananbarnes

Adrenaline

About last week

by @celestialbarnes

new adventures

right here waiting

Peter Parker/Tom Holland x reader

Soulmate AU (P.P) by @glossybarnes

Take care of you (P.P) by @peterspideyy

Starlight (P.P) by @that-sokovian-bastard

It still hurts (P.P) by @issa-me-addy

Tough Love (P.P) by @peterandtheparkers

Not Your Average Field trip (P.P x Stark!reader) by @spideykaiparker

Sexy (T.H) by @waitimcomingtoo

Happiness is a butterfly series (Mob!Tom) by @blissfulparker

mob!Tom x reader angst by @mrs-hollandstan

Domesticity hc (avengers x reader, peter parker x reader) by @spdersilk

by @ptersmj

Caught in the act (Teacher!Tom)

just you and me (P.P)

by @itsallyscorner

Patience (x little mix!reader)

Fanboy (x little mix!reader)

by @waitimcomingtoo

Swedish Fish (T.H)

The hint (P.P x Stark!reader)

Where We Start Again (P.P)

by @arvinsescape

Getting mobbed. (T.H)

His wife (Mob!Tom)

Thor x reader

Look at me by @marvelousmarvelimagines

the glorious gift of stir fry by @peachyteabuck

Fluff by @boop-le-snoot

(Loki x reader)

The sorcerer’s apprentice by @ridiculousn3sswrites

(Pietro Maximoff x reader)

Unexpected (Stark!Reader) by @faylor

Dyed hair by @pitubea1910

(Tony Stark x reader)

Did You Get My Memo? by @rosewrites

[stxleslyds]

MORE MOON KNIGHT TALK

So, these past weeks I have been reading every run from Moon Knight that I mentioned in an ask that was sent to me.

I had explained that I had read the most modern books first, from Moon Knight Vol. 7 (Warren Eliis) to the current one Moon Knight Vol. 9 (Jed MacKay) and then when back to read Moon Knight Vol. 5 (Charlie Huston).

Taking that route was helpful to understand the modern version of Moon Knight, or at least to see the start of the character's evolution. Starting with Vol. 7 was a blessing, at that time Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) was the disorder that Marc had officially been diagnosed with so writers didn't have the opportunity to *play around* that.

But it was also misleading in the great scheme of things because as the word evolution suggests, Marc's character had been through massive changes. One of these changes was the personalities/characterizations of Marc's alters (or personalities as referred to back then).

When I caught up with Vol. 9 (the current ongoing Moon Knight solo book) and jumped back to Vol. 5, I didn't realise just how different things had been, Jake and Steven where barely there in volumes 5 and 6 and when Jake appeared he was mostly Moon Knight ( in Vengeance of the Moon Knight). That's why I was so incredibly shocked at these four men's personalities back in the day, back in Moon Knight Vol. 1 (Doug Moench).

Because I am not that good at explaining myself I will just put the pictures here of Doug Moench explaining just who where Marc, Steven and Jake, who they were created to be.

It is fascinating, really, how different they are to the Marc, Steven and Jake from Lemire and Bemis' runs (and those two writers wrote them differently when compared to one another too) and how incredibly different they are to their MCU variants.

Like, between the current comics and the MCU there are enough differences, the most notable being Steven Grant, from billionaire and smooth talker to shy and lovely gift-shoppist. And other similarities like (possibly) Jake Lockley and his fierce need to protect Marc and Steven (like we saw in Lemire and Bemis' runs).

The thing that was half way there was Marc Spector, who is similar to his (modern) comic counterpart but different in the thing that matters the most, his motivation and belief in the Mission, in "protecting the travellers of the night".

But once you compare any of the three (comics and MCU) with their original characterizations one can truly see the massive changes these characters have been put through.

It is just impressive really, mostly when these old runs are so fresh in my mind as well as the show and Lemire and MacKay's runs.

It is all very chaotic which, I think, makes perfect sense because Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, Moon Knight and Mr. Knight are pure chaos themselves.

Anyway, this is me just rambling about stuff that I find exciting, I don't know, I haven't been able to let go of this Moon Knight phase I am going through and I kinda don't want to let go. This is just a marvellous world!

[sarcasticfina]

MCU resurrect (darcy/steve)

Darcy was cursed back in 1628 to have nine lives. Whenever she dies, she eventually resurrects. She’s been travelling the world, starting over where she can, but tragedy tends to follow. This snippet is set in Brooklyn in 1938...

While war raged across the water, life continued on. The nights she wasn’t sitting front row at Rosa’s shows, Darcy often found herself at Steve’s apartment; sometimes she watched him paint and others she just brought a book along to read.

“So, you can’t see the colors?” she asked, admiring a dry canvas in her hand, letting her thumb slide over a particularly bright splash.

“Not really. I can see some, kind of. It’s more like shades of yellow and brown.”

Humming, Darcy put the painting aside and shuffled closer to where he sat on a stool in front of a new canvas. “What do you see when you look at me?” She was wearing bright lipstick – ‘red as sin,’ Rosa called it – and a plum colored dress with a green and gold brooch. “Anything pop?”

His mouth tipped up faintly. “Pretty sure everything about you pops.”

“Smooth talker,” she teased, smiling. “But really, what do you see? Am I all yellow and brown? Because I spent a pretty penny on this lipstick and I’ll be disappointed if it’s not worth it.”

Steve tipped his head looking her face over. “You’re beautiful,” he said, simple and sincere.

Darcy’s heart thumped in her chest, and her eyes fell momentarily.

“I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry,” Steve said quickly, shifting back.

“No.” She shook her head. “Just been a long time since I heard that.”

Darcy had taken lovers since Lucia. Not right away; it’d taken time before she was comfortable with it. But her life could get lonely, the way she lived it, and sometimes she just liked having a warm body beside her, something to hold onto when she fell asleep or woke up. But there was a big difference between taking on a lover and falling in love. And Steve… He was the kind of person a girl could fall for. Unfortunately, Darcy wasn’t.

“Can’t imagine it’s been that long,” Steve mused, staring into her eyes searchingly.

Longer than you think, she thought but didn’t say.

Instead, she reached for him, her palm sliding over his cheek and down, under his chin. “I’m not someone you wanna fall for, Steve. I’m a runner. Things get tough and I leave. You need someone who’s gonna stick around.”

“Who says you won’t this time? You’re happy, aren’t you? You’ve got a home here, Darcy. And… I think we could be good together.”

“I’m sure we could. But I’m just as sure I’d break your heart.” She rubbed her thumb under the curve of his mouth. “You’re gonna meet an amazing dame. She’s gonna sweep you off your feet and you’ll forget all about me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. I couldn’t forget you if I tried. And I don't plan to.”

if you’d like to read a snippet from my many WIPs, go here for more info.

[stachmousworld]

Plum pie 🥧🥧🥧🥧🥧

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!female Character

Disclaimer: None of the MCU characters are mine.

Summary: It's around Christmas and Bucky goes to his favorite Café for his favortie dessert: Plum pie. He'll find more than a dessert. What did you expect? James Buchanan Barnes was a smooth talker, after all.

SURPRISE SHAWTYYYYYY!!!!! Here I come with a fluffy with a hint of angst story. I hope you’ll enjoy!

Bucky has been standing next to the table for a couple of minutes and she still hasn’t noticed him. He refrained himself from fleeing to the front door and cleared his throat instead.

She raised her head, looking startled. Her dark eyes widened as she took in his presence. She looked around to all the occupied tables and grimaced.

Bucky felt his resolve melt. He already had a few apologies on the tip of his tongue. He should have left her alone and eat outside. Even if it was freezing. And snowing. Gosh…he hoped she won’t be annoyed. Bucky cursed his therapist. He was far from being ready mentally to confront someone. He barely held his own when Steve or Sam wanted to debate with him let alone a complete stranger in a busy Café.

Bucky took a shuddery breath, feeling his eyes getting teary. Today was supposed to be a good day. He had done everything like usual. He respected his routine perfectly. He could do it. Whatever she said, he could take it.

He blinked the moist away and tried not to poke holes on the sleeves of his jacket as he waited.

“How long have you been standing there? You should have said something sooner.” She pushed her laptop closer to her and gathered her papers and books. “I’m sorry. You can sit here if you want.” She pushed her braids away from her face and looked up. “Or not if you don’t want.” She finished softly.

Bucky felt his cheeks get warm under her gaze. He spluttered something he thought was “Thank you” and sat down.

She tilted her head, her nose scrunched beautifully. “Do I know you?”

Bucky smiled, wistful. He didn’t know what gave in. He wore a jacket, glasses and his hair was hidden under a beanie. Guess he was more recognizable than he’d thought. He steeled himself to be shun or worse questioned on his time as a prisoner of Hydra. Because yes, people had no shame when it came to their curiosity. And they certainly had no remorse when the name Hydra sent him into a full blown panic attack. That’s why he always made sure to hide everything recognizable.

Unfortunately, it seemed that even this subterfuge didn’t work.

“Yes, I know you…” She nodded pensive. Her eyes suddenly widened, and she almost jumped out of her chair. Bucky froze, his heart thumping loud in his ears. “It’s you!”

Before Bucky could move, she rummaged through her backpack and retrieved a tupperware with a loud exclamation. Bucky glanced around. No one was looking their way. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and hoped it wasn’t some kind of pranks? A revenge? It couldn’t be Hydra. They were Nazis and never worked with people of color. So, who was she? Probably someone whose family the Winter Soldier killed…

But the way she presented the Tupperware with a little bow made no sense. Or she was a good actress. Bucky grabbed it unsure of how to react. He peered into the Tupperware…pie? His surprise may have shown on his face because she explained herself.

“I noticed how unhappy you looked the last time you came in because there were no plum pies. I’m the one who bakes them for the café by the way. Since it’s supposed to be a limited edition there won’t be no other plum pies for a couple of months. So, I made them for you. No one should be that demoralized that their favorite dessert is gone.”

Bucky closed his mouth in a click, making him wince. He blinked dumbly and stared at the box.

Plum pie.

She didn’t even know him. She’d seen him sad and had simply wanted to help. Him. The Winter Soldier. James Buchanan Barnes.

“Thanks,” he whispered, awed.

The smile he received blinded him. “You should taste the pie before thanking me. Maybe I’ve failed miserably.”

He huffed amused and shook his head. He took his sweet time to open the lid and closed his eyes as he smelled the scent of sugar cane and plum. He didn’t bite back his moan and almost danced on his chair because it smelled divinely.

When he opened his eyes, she stared at him with something akin to longing. Bucky felt his lips curled into a familiar – yet unfamiliar – boyish smile.

Before he could stop himself, he said in a drawl. “With skills like that, babydoll, a fella like me will fall in love with you instantly. After all it’s not everyday that a Doll as gorgeous and nice as you come my way. I’ll have to cuff you soon.” His voice dropped. “Unless you have other pretendants.”

As soon as he registered his words, he immediately froze. What did he just say? He hid his internal turmoil and pretended to look normal. He forced himself to look at her although all of his cells yelled at him to make a run for the door. He could do it before the shitstorm began.

She narrowed her eyes and smirked playfully.

“I love when people are audacious. It may be too soon to cuff me, but a date will totally be fine, Mister…”

“Barnes,” he replied automatically. Had he entered another dimension or had she accepted to go on a date with him?

“First name basis, or it’s too soon?”

“James Buchanan Barnes. But for you I’ll be anything.”

Bucky was on a roll. The filter between his mouth and brain was nonexistent. A first for him. He may not feel the blunt of his cringe and embarrassment now. Once he’ll be at the Tower with the other teammates, it’ll hit him like a boulder.  

She frowned at the name but didn’t comment.

Her eyes travelled to his left arm. She still didn’t comment. Her left eyebrow rose gracefully as she observed him through half closed eyes.

“James it is.” She straightened her back and leaned forward. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room.” There again he froze, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “First, I know that you are an Avenger and all about your past and I don’t really care. I won’t ask questions unless you talk first and if I do something that make you uncomfortable you have to tell me. I won’t get hurt or throw a fit. Everyone has the right get as much boundaries as it is safe for them. Second, you still hadn’t eaten the pie and it makes my heart bleed.”

Bucky closed his gaping mouth. His cheeks and neck were burning. He hadn’t blushed like that since he was a kid and his ma’ made him go to school with an atrocious slick back haircut.

He didn’t know what to answer and nodded instead. It was nice that someone treated him like a decent human for once. He won’t look the gift horse in the mouth.

“Before I eat your pie –” She inhaled sharply, her brown eyes bore into his with a hint of arousal. “--what’s your name, doll?”

“For you? Anything.”

Fin.

[gaslightgallows]

22 + Valki for the October prompts please? Thank you in advance!

22. I love your silences, they are like mine. (Loki/Valkyrie, MCU) 

It amused Loki, in a bitter way that tasted like tears if he thought about it too much, to have such a reputation as a talker. To be lauded and despised in the same breath for his silver tongue and his smooth way with words, when no one ever seemed to actually be listening.

When he spent so much of his life in silence.

How much would the others have jeered him, to know that most of the chattering and prattling and pontificating he’d bored them with in their youth was largely an attempt to fill up the silences between the words? If he talked, eventually, someone would talk back, and he would be reassured that he was not alone.

Valkyrie rarely spoke to him. Her language was daggers and terrible alcohol and fighting and sex that was also fighting. She was not a person to waste much time with words, so the silences stretched on, sometimes for days.

Strangely… Loki didn’t mind. There was pain behind her silences. Loss, resentment, regret. Guilt.

He understood those silences.

So he let the space between the words stretch on as long as she needed them to.

[kingofthewebxxx]

Open Starter:

“Now tell me, do you perceive me as a meta human or mutant. Take your time, it’s not like either of us are exactly going anywhere.” He said as he sat surrounded by his guards, watching the intruder in the makeshift cell carefully as he took a small sip of his black coffee.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Going Through Motions{3}

Title: Going Through Motions {3}

Steve Rogers X Reader OFC Korral “Korri” Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: You and Steve had a hot, passionate, and wild romance seven years ago when you worked with the Avengers. It was the best year of your life; you’d never felt the things you’d felt in all your life. Then out of nowhere, Steve just ended things—in a letter. A heartbreaking letter, then the world deemed him a criminal, and he disappeared. Now, you’ve moved on and have gotten engaged to rich man Marc Spector. Tony brings you back to work with the newly rebuilt Avengers that is still led by Captain America who is definitely done asking for permission and not looking for forgiveness. Or is he?

Note: So, for this fic, we are going to alter the MCU timeline a bit. This takes place after Civil War, but Infinity War has not happened yet. Steve is off the grid for seven years before he comes back. {I know that’s a long time, but let me rock please} Also, I’m going to be introing/adding in Moon Knight (Marc Spector) in just because I feel like it and I want to start exploring other Marvel characters and of course I will twist him to serve my purposes.

**Loosely Proofread/edited**

**Interactive**

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tonight was the night of Tony’s party. You weren’t in the mood to party. In the last three weeks, you were a wandering ghost. Your role at Stark Industries was a unique one. In the beginning, you played more an executive role on the Avengers side, but when the Avengers broke up your position increased and blurred over to the industry side, you went into sort of executive to vice president, to employee relations to mission coordinator, and even mission operative. You wore many hats. These days the hat you wore was executive and vice president, you ensured the Avengers side of the company ran smooth, and everyone worked well. So, for the last three weeks, that’s what you did, you ensured the Avengers side ran smoothly. You spoke with world leaders and dignitaries about the reestablishment of the Avengers and what it meant moving forward and had meeting after meeting on various topics. You didn’t step foot into the compound; you remained in the city. Not that it mattered in the least your mind was everywhere.

   While you continued to try to cut the red tape around them so they could freely do their duties, the rest of the team remained at the compound getting back into the swing of things. There were tons of new gadgets and weapons they had to get used to, Tony had been busy in the seven years. Tonight would be the first night the world would be able to see the new and improved avengers. It was so much of a big deal Thor came in to make an appearance, not that he’d miss a party if his life depended on it.

   “You seem like you’re a million miles away. Are you okay?” You brought your attention to Marc, who was sitting beside you and smiled. “Yes, I am fine. Just trying to get into unwind mode.” Marc put his hand on your thigh and gently squeezed. “Is that something you need a little help with? We have another twenty minutes before we arrive, I can put in a little work for the cause.” You smiled and shook your head. “My god Marc, if people knew how much of a horny little teenager you really were they might look at you differently.” He chuckled and brought his hand higher on your inner thigh, the split on your dress afforded him plenty of access. “If people knew I was a horny little teenager they wouldn’t be surprised especially once they took a look at my beautiful, sexy, and brilliant fiancée.” With each compliment, he kissed you, first your jaw, then your neck and finally the exposed skin of your breast.

He always knew what to say. He’d always been like this, such a sweet talker. After Steve disappeared, you hadn’t wanted to get involved with anyone especially not another superhero. After a year and a half of courting you, he wore you down for a date and then after the four years of dating he’d convinced you to move in with him, and ten months ago he’d accomplished his ultimate goal of convincing you to marry him. Marc’s hand disappeared between your thighs and under the barley there lace thong you wore. Once his fingers grazed your sex, you gasped and slightly arched your back off the seat. “I do so love when your back arches Ri.” Moaning you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to enjoy the moment.

   Marc’s fingers expertly swirled around the most sensitive part of you and with each passing second stroked the kindles of the fire he was igniting within you. “That’s it relax and let me do all the work, let me take care of you.” His husky voice was hypnotizing. Before you knew it, your legs were draped over his shoulders, and his head was buried between your legs. You tried your best to control your moans not wanting the driver to know what was going on in the back of the limo. He wasn’t having it though; it seemed he was doing everything he possibly could for you to scream out. After a few minutes, you felt the first desperate pangs of your oncoming orgasm. You grabbed Marc’s head, arched your head back and let the pleasure claim you and whatever stress you were holding on to.

   By the time the car stopped at your destination, you were again the image of grace. “I can’t wait to get you home Ri,” Marc grunted as he tried to rearrange the crotch of his pants. Looking down, you could see his erection straining against the material. You smirked to yourself before you leaned over to him and kissed him making sure to suck his bottom lip into your mouth the way he liked. Marc groaned loudly. “God, you’re trying to kill me.” His door opened, and he stepped out to make his way around to your side. When he opened the door, you took his hand and walked arm in arm toward the entrance.

   You and Marc walked through the crowds with smiled, politely greeting those you knew and those who recognized you. It seemed you couldn’t make it more than a few steps before someone stepped to Marc to shake his hand or get a picture or talk about his ventures. All you could do was smile, look pretty and play the supportive fiancée. It was a role you normally took pleasure in. Your phone buzzed, and you saw a message from Tony asking if you’d arrived yet. You shot him a quick message to let him know you’d make your way to him soon. You were in no hurry.

   Thirty minutes, about a hundred handshakes, and plenty of well wishes on your impending union later you and Marc made it across the room up the steps to where Tony and the others were. Nat was the first to see you, then Wanda, then Tony. Once Tony saw you, everyone knew you were there. You greeted everyone with hugs and introduced Marc to them, but not as your fiancée. Since they’d been gone for seven years none of them, but Tony knew him. You quickly noticed Steve was nowhere in sight and part of you was relieved but the other part disappointed. Marc easily charmed them; you weren’t surprised it was part of who he was.

   The next few hours went by with endless stories from all of them about their time on the run and even reminiscing about old missions. You sat and listened to the stories and did your best to keep a smile on your face, the never-ending rotation of drinks helped—a lot. When you’d lost count of how many glasses of champagne you’d had you heard a commotion down below. After looking over, you realized Steve had made his entrance, and he was being swarmed by people eager to talk to him. God he still looked good in a suit, you thought to yourself. Once the thought entered your head you felt Marc’s hand at the small of your back. You excused yourself and made it to the bar to get a stronger drink. You sat with your back to everyone and used the time to psych yourself up. You’d repeated to yourself in your walk-in closet that in order for encounters to become normal they had to keep happening. “Repetition breeds normalcy.”

   “Repetition breeding normalcy is a crock of shit,” Natasha said as she sat beside you at the bar. “How you holding up?” You smiled and pushed everything away. “I’m fine. You look gorgeous Nat.” She rolled her eyes and looked over you. “Me? Kor, you are breathtaking, that dress my god.” Shaking your head, you rolled your eyes and downed the drink the bartender placed in front of you. “I know it’s been seven years since we’ve talked, but you do know you can talk to me still right? We used to be close, I want that again,” Nat expressed. You touched her hand and gently squeezed. “I know Nat I want that too. I’ve just—been on my own for the last seven years. Old habits.” She nodded and downed her own drink. “Marc seems nice.”

   You smiled and nodded. “He is nice. He’s a good man.” Natasha sat there and scanned your face, and you knew she was trying to read you. She was a spy she was good at it. After a few moments, she nodded and looked away. “Congratulations, Tony let it slip about the wedding.” Nodding you stared at the diamond ring on your finger and smiled. “Thanks.” At that moment Marc came over wrapped a hand around your waist and kissed your neck. “Everything okay?” You smiled widely and nodded. “Of course, I was just congratulating her, now I can congratulate you,” Nat said. Marc beamed and accepted her well wishes. “Congratulate him on what?” Sam approached the three of you and with him brought the attention of those close, Steve included.

   “Let me. Everyone let’s raise a glass please,” Tony began. Everyone did as he said, except you. Marc leaned to your ear and whispered sweet words about how amazing you were, and you smiled, he truly was a good man. “Let’s raise a glass to Korral Evans and Marc Spector and congratulate them on their engagement.” Everyone around you burst out in applause and cheers. You didn’t dare look to Steve, but you could feel his eyes. Marc again went to your ear and spoke so only you could hear. “I love you.” you smiled at him and allowed him to kiss you. It was to be a quick one, but Marc dipped you and intensified the kiss to everyone’s delight around you. Once he put you up right your eyes noticed the back of Steve’s head as he walked away back down the steps and Sam hurrying behind him. Cat’s out the bag now, you thought.

  ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

-Steve-

  You looked happy. Not a fake happy either, it looked like a genuine glow of happiness that was painted across your skin. You were as beautiful as ever. In the seven years, he remembered your beauty but either your image had slowly blurred just a bit disguising the full effect of it, or you’d gotten even more beautiful. He couldn’t figure it out. The seven years had been kind to you-kinder than they had been to him. He was a completely different person now. He’d had to change; he had to adapt. Every day there was someone new after him, every day he was on the move, and every day you were on his mind. There hadn’t been a single second where he wished things had been different, that he would have handled matters differently. It nearly killed him to write that letter, and it actually did kill him to leave. So many times he second-guessed it, so many times he thought to go back and take you with him but he couldn’t. He couldn’t put you in that kind of danger; he couldn’t submit you to that kind of life. There were days he was glad he hadn’t given in to his selfish weak needs because the things he’d been through and had to do to survive were hard. It was no life for you. You deserved better.

   When he’d gotten word that it was safe to go home his first thought was of you, and he made a move to go back but he couldn’t. He felt sadness and shame, sadness because of the last seven years and shame for the things he’d had to do, shame that he was no longer the innocent, straight and narrow Steve Rogers you’d known. That man was gone. Running for one’s life unjustly did that to a man. He didn’t even know if he had a home to come back to. Countless times over the years he worried you’d moved on and found someone new, worried that he was just a faded memory of a man you used to know. He couldn’t face the possibility being a reality, so when the others went back he stayed away. He was scared. How could he face you again after all these years? How could he look in your eyes after everything? The things he’d said in that letter had to be said. He wondered if you hated him for it.

   When he finally laid eyes on you, it was like feeling the serum course through his veins all over again. He wasn’t over you; he knew it then, and he knew it now. When he’d picked up and left, his feelings for you were at their peak. He loved you, hell he would have done anything for you. He would kill without question for you now. There was so much he wanted to say to you, so much he had to say, but you made sure to stay away and he didn’t want to crowd you. Things had to be done on your time; he couldn’t force things.

   A fiancée, you’d moved on, and the thought of that killed him. “You okay?” He knew Sam would be the one to follow him. In the last seven years while Bucky was in Wakanda taking care of himself Sam was his go-to. He and Sam became tight, and he relied on him to have his back. That remained the same. “Yeah.” Sam snorted and sat on the roof of the Stark Tower with him. “You’re a damn liar.” He scoffed and nodded. “Yeah, I am.” They sat quietly staring out over New York. “Miss seven years, miss a lot huh.” He looked at Sam and gave him a “really” look. “Sorry, too soon?” He laughed to himself; he could already rely on Sam to give him a laugh even at times he didn’t want to laugh. He wanted to punch something. “It’s my own fault I guess.”

   Sam looked at him and waited for an explanation. “I was the one who left right? I couldn’t have expected her not to move on.” It was true, he didn’t want her to move on, but he was realistic enough to know she would. He knew there would be a man who would see how incredible she was and fall head over heels for her like he had and hold on to her; something he hadn’t done. “You’re talking like you had a choice,” Sam began. “I did, didn’t I? I made the choice to fight Tony over Bucky, and I made the choice to draw lines in the sand--,” Sam kissed his teeth. “Man, your biology made that choice. You’re Captain America; you are goodness and justice. Bucky needed help, you saw that, and you did the just thing. You can’t beat yourself up over choosing the side you did. You did a good thing, and you were punished for it. If I had to do it all over again I’d do it in a heartbeat.” He studied Sam and knew he was being truthful. Part of him wanted to listen, but the part that refused was the hurt part, the part that just watched another man touch you, and kiss you, a man who was going to marry you, have kids with you, build a life with you. That hurt part was quickly turning into a bitter part. He’d given so much and gotten so little in return. The one thing he wanted and had the nerve to try to claim for himself he even had to that give up.

   “All I’m going to say is, it ain’t over until it’s over,” Sam added. He looked to him again, trying to grasp his meaning. “What does that mean Sam?” He stayed quiet for a few moments but shook his head. “She’s not married yet. It ain’t over until she walks down the aisle.” He scoffed and shook his head, but the part of him that should have been appalled by Sam’s implications was silent or very near it. The part that spoke up was the part that was in agreement with him. Yeah, he was not the man he used to be anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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TagList:

@quitepointless @yourwonderbelle @caramara3 @kaetastic @toniilaney @wildmindedbeauty32 @cltex84  @bellaamor88 @periodtcevans @peach-acid @queennanayaa  @alyxkbrl  @disneysdarlingdiva

[emeraldspiral]

Part 7 of my Thor rewatch thoughts:

Where the story really starts to fall apart:

How does Thor not get shot by all these SHIELD agents carrying handguns while running around in a narrow confined space with zero cover?

I legitimately completely forgot Hawkeye was in this movie.

An hour into this superhero movie and thus far I have not once seen Thor do anything heroic. All he does is kick the shit out of people weaker than him who are just doing their jobs.

Am I supposed to feel bad because he couldn’t lift the hammer? Because I don’t. Because he shouldn’t.

They talk about Norse myths as if they’re really obscure fairy tales and not just slightly less well-known than Greek or Roman mythology. Reading about them in a children’s book is like Bella Swan having to look up vampires on the internet. Also, the entry on Loki just repeats the exact same paragraph three times. It pretty much just says “Loki’s an asshole who lies all the time so nobody trusts him, but at the same time he’s such a smooth-talker that everyone forgives him, even for that time he killed Balder”. So I guess that little incident is canon in the MCU.

An hour into the movie and Loki’s finally doing something truly villainous; lying to Thor about his dad being dead, implying it was Thor’s fault, telling him he’ll never be able to lift Mjolnir again, claiming the truce with Jotenheim is conditional upon his exile and that even Frigga (who didn’t even stop loving Loki after what he pulled in The Avengers) didn’t want him back was pretty damn cold, and not even necessary. Like, unless this is another instance of scenes being shuffled around or deleted Loki had no reason to fear Thor coming back to mess up his plans. So why go to Earth just to kick Thor when he was down? This feels like something that they did just so Sif could tell Thor Loki lied to him so everyone could realize Loki was an asshole since they couldn’t figure out a way for any of them to actually prove Loki let the Frost Giants in.

Ugh. These one-note characters and their discount D&D dialog again. “Do not mistake my appetite for apathy” may be one of the worst lines in a movie ever. Worse than “I don’t like sand”.

I know they suspect Loki of letting the Frost Giants into Asgard, but they say “Loki on the throne” as if it should be self-evident why that’s a bad thing when we’ve been given no indication that he has any inclinations toward tyranny. All he’s done is refuse to rescind Thor’s banishment. As for conspiring with Laufey and lying to Thor to demoralize him, they don’t know about that.

I really want to see a prequel or flashback sequences of young Loki exploring Asgard and finding all these secret tunnels that somehow no one else in Asgard ever found before him, and exploring other realms and making his own version of the Maurader’s map.

Now Loki’s sent the Destroyer with orders to “destroy everything”. But like, why? Why does it need to inflict unnecessary death and property damage to innocent people if its ultimate purpose is just to keep Thor from coming back to Asgard? This feels like another instance of making Loki an asshole when he has no motivation for it. Also, like, he obviously doesn’t expect Heimdall to unfreeze and let everyone back in, otherwise he’d have, you know, done something to prevent it. If he had, he wouldn’t have needed the Destroyer, period. He could’ve just left them all stranded on Earth and they wouldn’t have been able to do jack shit about it.

An hour and 22 minutes in and Thor is finally doing something heroic by evacuating the town.

Honestly, I don’t understand why Sif thought driving a piece of metal through a hollow suit of armor with no internal organs, gears or cogs, wires, computer chips, or anything else of the sort to speak of was supposed to kill it.

“You have to stop Loki!” From what? None of you know what his plan is! You don’t even know he has a plan besides get Thor out of the way so he can remain Asgard’s king.

Loki totally just tried to kill Thor, after he surrendered and offered an apology, despite the attack being completely unprovoked, even though the only thing he did to Loki in this movie is tell him to shut up at one point. And Loki has like, no reaction when he thought he’d succeeded. Even in Avengers when he was full-blown crazy and mind-controlled with his empathy reduced to “an absolute minimum” he couldn’t bring himself to inflict a fatal wound on Thor and shed an involuntary tear after harming him. Why would Loki do this? Were there deleted scenes of Thor being more of a dick to Loki earlier in the film or the warriors putting down Loki’s leadership abilities and whining about wanting Thor back to stoke his resentment or desperation to keep him out of the way or something?

I hate the music in this movie, it’s so generic!

God the CGI ice in this movie looks terrible.

Honestly, what even happens in this movie to make Thor completely reevaluate his life? All that happens is he tries to lift his hammer and then can’t do it. Jane and co aren’t exactly models of humility, compassion, or heroic behavior for him to learn from.The only thing they teach him is that it’s inappropriate to smash cups.

Did Loki make Laufey promise not to hurt Frigga? Because he totally could’ve just killed her instead of shoving her aside.

How the hell does Loki toss Thor out a window onto the Bifrost, yet somehow get to the end of the bridge riding on horseback before Thor can fly there?

How closely was Loki monitoring Thor’s activity on Earth that he even knows about Jane?

How the hell can Loki’s spear deflect a blow from Mjolnir?

Loki’s evil laugh is so corny.

Wait, did Jane actually think Thor meant he’d come back to her IMMEDIATELY? Like, he’s got a life outside of you, the woman he met yesterday lady. Like, wait a couple days to see if he texts you.

[imagines-oneshots-galore]

Ship Request!

This is another for @yana-versio, but within the MCU!

Original Message: Hello, I'd love to ask for a Star Wars ship if it's possible? I have rather long soft brown hair, grey-blue eyes, fair skin and I'm not that tall and skinny. I am an introvert, who tends to listen and to be polite, well-behaved and intelligent most of the time, but can be annoying and moody smartass sometimes! Thank you in advance and I hope you'll have a nice day today!

Part 2: Oh, would that also be okay to ask for a Marvel ship? I’ve never requested Marvel before and it’s so exciting!

I would be honored to do another one!! I think Ship Requests are so dang fun. 

I ship you with Bucky Barnes! 

Okay, but he is literally so sweet, I think he’s the perfect match for you!

- Bucky had a really tough time when he was a captive in Hydra, that goes without saying. So, he is so appreciative of the fact that you are so calm and centered around him. After so many years of constant yelling and threats, he is relieved to have finally found someone who he can just be quiet around. There’s no need for excessive noise when it’s just the two of you, and he is forever grateful. 

- Bucky loves how intelligent you are. As I mentioned above, he was Hydra’s puppet for over 70 years. This means, that he Is pretty far behind on most current events, and regular house hold electronic. He knows how to work bombs, guns, mics, and things like that. But a Keurig? Fuck if he knows. So it really helps him when you are so willing to share your knowledge with him, it helps him feel like he’s getting a real grasp on the time he was just thrust in to. 

-Plus he always thought a girl with a mind was the sexiest thing ever,,,, but I digress

- You know how I said that he likes the quiet side of you? Well he also loooooves the witty side of you. Back in the 40′s, Bucky was a smooth talker. He could’ve sold tickets to a show where paint dries, but when he was wiped, he lost some of that charm. So whenever you get sassy, Bucky can feel some pieces of himself that he had thought he lost. 

-Pretty soon he starts out-sassing you. 

-Bucky also loves playing with your hair, because it reminds him of his mom’s. I know that sounds kind of creepy, but it just means that you remind him of home. He may not say it, but he misses his family a lot. Sometimes he’ll get a flash of your hair and it brings back a memory of seeing his mother cook dinner for him, his sister, and Steve. It never fails to bring a smile to his face. 

-He also likes he fact that you both have a similar color, because that means he can steal your color-matching hair ties if need be. 

- Bucky’s favorite activity to do with you is go to Museums, he likes getting the chance to learn new things, and he enjoys hearing you say random facts about different things. Especially when you get passionate about something, he swears he falls in love with you again, every time you do it. 

- You are an instrumental part of Bucky’s recovery and new life, post hydra. He could never do it without you, and he thanks the lucky stars that he got the chance to meet you, and eventually, love you. 

Hope this was to your liking!! Enjoy love :)

[ofbvtterflies]

🌵𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧🌵

( penn badgley, 27, cismale, he/him ) * hey, i’m looking for the office of phoenix olson. they’re the director of photography/cinematographer who’s known around the office as the lothario, if that helps ? not to be a gossip, but i’ve heard that they’re charming but spiteful, is that true ? i also heard that they’re the one who uses 3-in-1 body wash . anyways, here’s the coffee they ordered. 

yup tis’ i, yari, back at it again with another uh- ✨mess✨ i will apologize in advance hehehee

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

name: phoenix wilder olson 

faceclaim: penn badgley 

occupation: directior of photography/cinematographer @ masters international

sexuality: heterosexual

pronouns: he/him/his

age: twenty- seven 

date of birth: november 11th, 1993

big three: scorpio ☀, cancer ☽, scorpio ↑

+ traits: charming, charismatic, attentive, curious, handsome

- traits: spiteful, calculated, manipulative, vague, destructive

character inspo: tony stark (mcu), slater (saved by the bell), nathan scott (oth), mark sloan (greys), prince naveen (tpatf)

aesthetics: a thin white gold chain poking through a white t-shirt, a lopsided grin, art displayed over a brick wall, that one brooklyn mom and pop shop, breweries and karaoke nights, new york city puddle jumping

education: film and television b.a. | university of california, los angeles || cinema studies m.f.a | nyu tisch school of the arts

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐇𝐘

- how does one grow up in the shadow of someone born after them? easy. ask phoenix olson- the irritatingly handsome, yet oh so problematic, older brother to griffin olson. the two knuckle heads are only three years apart, but man oh man was their big beef in the olson household following the arrival of sweet griffin. but families always fight right? phoenix had a way of taking things to a whole other level when it came to wanting the attention of his mom and dad. he was generally a good kid- but he had spiteful moments that really placed him in rocky places with his family. this is something that he only has partially outgrown so uh- this is your formal warning.

- to show his parents he decided after highschool his only option was to move across the country and start a new life and be independent. his parents still actively worried about him as he set off on this endeavour and eventually he was like eh maybe moms and dads and younger brothers who happen to be a little bit better than you were okay. after finishing his film degree at ucla, he moved back home to get his masters of fine arts at the tisch school of arts.

- much like his brother, he is a very smooth talker– conversation comes naturally to him and he’ll entertain just about anyone with his antics and remarks. he is very much so a womanizer and probably laughed at the fraternizing warning in the masters handbook he had to read and sign. overall not someone you want in your corner, but definitely someone you want in your bed. ladies and gentlemen.....  🤪HIM🤪

[kingofthewebxxx]

MCU {smooth talker}:

After the events of the rooftop of St Bart’s (Reichenbach), the post-mortem was done, during the transit from the rooftop he had appeared deceased, this view changed rather radically when signs of brain activity were picked up using an electroencephalogram, the team had been all but too aware of his reputation and wanted to prove mainly to themselves that it wasn't some form of trickery. In an attempt to discover more, several brain scans were done yet all that appeared on the screen was a black spot instead of a clear visual of the bullet. The bullet was made of vibranium which for some reason would not show clearly on their scans, not that they know what the bullet was made of, it was something that James himself only knew, he had intended to make his death permanent. Any attempt at surgery was immediately out of the question, any attempt to remove the bullet would likely have catastrophic consequences. Under the orders of high-ranking government officials as well as in the knowledge of Mycroft Holmes, he was given to a research company that specialised in neuroscience, it was an attempt to save his brain in the idea that it would be useful later on. Not wanting to risk his seeming survival becoming public, his death certificate was signed and any evidence that suggested otherwise was either changed or destroyed.

The company gave him the best medical treatment they could in order to heal his body and mind. What no one realised was what was happening in Moriarty’s mind. The vibranium bullet in his mind had been reacting with the neurotransmitters in Broca’s area, this was where the bullet had been lodged. It had ultimately caused a chemical reaction between the neurological receptor and the metal connector, this created a connection between two receptors that previously weren't touching and that in the rest of the human population, would never be connected. As the reaction grew and the connection strengthened with time it unlocked a new frequency undertone. The first time he managed to form a clear demand he noticed that they were unable to resist his commands. Using them for his own gains he made them figure out how his new power worked. It was discovered that the frequency his voice emits had a unique way of resonating in the minds of others, almost like the effect a siren would have on prey, with their assistance they would learn the vibranium lodged in his brain was the source of these new abilities.

Recovering as fast as he could to get out of the horrid place he also tested this new ability. He would learn that his voice would have the same effect as it does in person if transmitted through a radio or any other audio-emitting device. The lasting effect on those exposed to his voice varies on how much mental resistance they have, for those who are easily manipulated it could take years for the effects to wear off but for those with a strong resolve, the effect could wear off within a few hours, James learned that for the most effective method of use, further exposure to his voice was necessary. Yet as powerful as this new ability was he wasn't invincible. The strain the brain injury put on him weakened his physical muscles, whilst he could still move lifting anything 40 lbs and more would be a struggle. This would give him a need to surround himself with others as bodyguards of sorts which also fed his growing paranoia, he developed a fear of those under his control rising up against him in this weakened state. Having already survived one bullet to the head anymore would be fatal as well as any severe head trauma. His power also had limits, it only worked if his voice was audible or if the sound could be transmitted, it also would not work on the deaf unless they had an implant.

With all of these things in mind, he broke out of the facility, ensuring all those who had worked there made it seem as if he had died at the facility, he also made them cover the whole thing up so even the highest officials believed it. Moriarty started to take more interest in those with powers as a meta-human himself, he found those easy to manipulate first and turned them into bodyguards before adding more. His goal was to form a new organisation, once he was set he turned recruitment to those who could boost the powers of others, offering services as he did before he gained his powers he would now aim more at those who would keep him safe as well spread fear of him, failure to comply with maintaining his secrecy would be met with the harshest of punishments.