so i am writing a TERRIBLE steve/bucky AU where everybody lives in a building where steve works as the building caretaker/super (except he’s nothing like an actual super because he just spends all day helping everyone and apologising for nothing). bucky hasn’t even turned up yet. anyway i have to go to bed but i thought i’d leave a little preview here and u will all see why i usually write misery rather than fun (although there is still definitely misery to come here)

“Doesn’t seem like you’re in the mood for a party,” Sam says, as he eases himself in next to Steve. Steve puts his book down and stretches out. Sam passes him a burger, the bun slightly burnt on the top.

“You alright?” Steve asks. “Nice day?”

“Yeah, good,” Sam says.

“How’re the birds?”

Sam crosses his arms. “You don’t care about the birds, man.”

“Sure I do,” Steve says. “Best friends you ever had, those birds.”

“Nah,” Sam says. “They’re just work friends.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve says. “Nobody ever made any friends worth a damn where they work.”

“You watch your mouth,” Clint says, gesturing with his spatula slightly too wildly. Fat crackles in the air like catherine wheels, and Clint swears and retreats from the conversation to turn the burgers over.

i really am thinking about dying my hair soon. but it’s so dark and i don’t really feel comfortable bleaching it myself so i guess i’ll have to bite the bullet~~ and go to a hairdresser.
i don’t think i’ve had my hair cut professionally in like, two years (and then not for AGES before that) and i probably can’t even afford it and blah blah have a pointless selfie gif

i really am thinking about dying my hair soon. but it’s so dark and i don’t really feel comfortable bleaching it myself so i guess i’ll have to bite the bullet~~ and go to a hairdresser.

i don’t think i’ve had my hair cut professionally in like, two years (and then not for AGES before that) and i probably can’t even afford it and blah blah have a pointless selfie gif

waldorph

linzeestyle:

capsicle107:

I feel like this entire sequence isn’t appreciated enough in the first film.  Yes, the “hero wades into danger and rescues hundreds, proving his mettle” is a time-honored and tested trope, and thus it’s understandable that to the average movie-goer it would be brushed off as cliche — admittedly, the first time I saw the movie I dismissed it in much the same way.  But Steve isn’t going after the Hydra base to save the 107th.  He’s going after the Hydra base to save Bucky Barnes.  The fact that he walks out with the rest of the captured men is incidental, the result of Steve’s unwavering commitment to do good, to do the best he can.  When he breaks the rest of the men out, his first question isn’t whether they’re alright, or how they can get out — it’s where’s Sargent Barnes?  The moment that goes on to define Captain America, even in the present-day Smithsonian exhibit, isn’t just a show of selfless bravery — it’s a show of love, of complete, total, and utter devotion. 

Steve’s “death,” days — at most weeks — after Bucky’s in the Alps, is an echo of this same situation.  Before this moment, Steve didn’t want to kill anyone: he didn’t like bullies, and he wanted them stopped. The first time Steve Rogers considers killing to be its own reward is after Bucky’s death, and he takes down Hydra, destroys Schmidt’s plans, ultimately puts that bird in the water, in a grief-stricken rage over the loss of his best friend.

I think possibly the most telling moment in Cap 2 is when Steve tells Fury they’re not just destroying Hydra, but they’re taking down all of SHIELD — that nothing will be salvaged, that complete annihilation is the game plan.  The very first thing that Fury says to him, when confronted with a Captain America who wants to destroy America’s security apparatus?  I didn’t know about Barnes.  He doesn’t even have to think about it — he knows immediately what this is about.  The last time Steve lost Bucky Barnes, he took down Hydra, dying himself in the process.  Confronted with Bucky’s loss a second time over, Steve stands to take out SHIELD in his memory — and just like the first time, there’s nothing on hell or earth that’s going to stop him. 

i just tried to do that “automatic tags with dirty words” meme and clearly i don’t swear enough cos the top suggestion for me for “shit” was “leicestershire” (??????) and the top one for “sex” was “essex”, crying.

THE CLOSEST I GET TO SWEARING IS NAMING ENGLISH COUNTIES.

also for “dick” my top tag was “i don’t even like dickens” hahahaa end me now

waldorph

castiel-the-consulting-angel:

stevieraedrawn:

Can we talk about how Cap and Bucky have opposite masks?

Cap has mouth and eyes exposed, forehead covered. Bucky has mouth covered and eyes painted black, his forehead exposed.

What a lovely symmetry.

But the symbolism too. Cap’s is a helmet, protection, to keep him safe from physical harm. Bucky’s is a muzzle to keep him silent and anonymous and on a leash.

mattfractionblog

On Sleep:

mattfractionblog:

"We now know that 24 hours without sleep, or a week of sleeping four or five hours a night induces an impairment equivalent to a blood alcohol level of .1 percent…. We would never say, ‘This person is a great worker! He’s drunk all the time!’ yet we continue to celebrate people who sacrifice sleep for work." 

Danielle Elliot @ The Atlantic: The Doctor Who Coaches Athletes on Sleep

(via)

I wonder if my junkie brain so eagerly and excitedly goes into unsleep-mode because it wants that certain derangement of the senses that sleeplessness brings. like speedy kids putting sugar in sodas, like abstaining alcoholics sugar-binging to replace the alcohol sugars in their system, it can feel like a kind of over-the-counter bootleg solution to the problem of having to live life not-fucked-up-all-the-time. 

sure, it’s time and a feeling-space i can use, i can convert into work, but it’s a feeling i like. 

i romanticize exhaustion. i worry about it. i have to put sleep on my to-do list and have been working for a very long time to think of it as a thing that needs done, rather than a bodily weakness to avoid (which was kinda s.o.p. since, y’know. forever). i have to treat sleep like work, like a part of the job, like a task, a box to Get Done and Check Off. Otherwise, like exercise, it goes undone.

half a thought, i dunno. i’ve not encountered any studies looking at sleep habits of the addict and the recovering, but as sleep and brain chemistry are so fundamentally related… well, maybe there’s more than one reason for all those midnight meetings out there.