"Sometimes by losing a battle, you find a new way to win the war.”

Frank Grillo in Wolf Warrior 2.

syntheticallysentient:

           [ ? ]

[Christ. That’s creepy as shit.] I know you, you’re one of the good ones. One of the new ones. Vision, right? That’s what they’ve been calling you?

"Jackie DeShannon. Course I’m partial to the version from the end of Scrooged. What’s up, Doc?”

♪ [whistles Put a Little Love in Your Heart] ♪

facethepast:

His brow furrows– the voice familiar, slowly rattled off and placed as the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent he’d spoken with last summer. Bucky turns his head– a fraction, a sideways glance to verify, before looking forward again.

     ( his choice of words does little to ease his mind, a quiet guardedness infesting the gap in conversation )

“…Thought S.H.I.E.L.D.’s involvement stopped outside the gates.”

"You’re not that naive, Barnes.” Folding his arms, Brock leaned back against the wall. He can see the Barnes a moment to register, recognize, who he’s talking to. Their meeting, almost a year a go now, was pleasant enough... but brief.

Not enough for Barnes to form a real impression, he’s sure.

"When they opened this place? They needed guards, qualified guards. Put the word out. I volunteered, something of an unofficial liaison. After my leave, I tried to come back... throw myself back into it. Wasn’t the same. Never is, is it?

sexuality: girls that could kick my ASS

facethepast:

@justorder

Even turned away from the cell door, sat, back against the wall, on the cot that serves as his bed, adjusting his makeshift sling– Bucky knows his small corner of the world isn’t vacant - the sound of boots, muffled through reinforced glass and metal, step down the hall, stopping just outside his cell, interrupting a daily routine that is now usual. He’s mostly left to his own devices, the only interruption in the long, timeless stretch of hours coming from meal rotation and the occasional removal from his cell to speak (however little of it he manages) to Dr. Yang.

     ( he hasn’t been keen on talking, to anyone, since his arrival, but it’s the offset presence that loosens his tongue– )

“So…d’you get paid to just stand there or is there something you wanna’ say?”

He didn’t request the position. Well, he did volunteer, but not by his own choice. Brock was confident it was Ophelia’s suggestion, her way of taking him down a peg. Her way of getting him off his ass and proving himself useful. The Crossbones missions had become few and far between, and yet he had let it go to his head. What with the leave, and then the return to deep cover. The same deep cover that leaned itself to being HYDRA’s eyes and ears inside the prison. The novelty had worn thin, the inmates seemed compliant enough... to the point they knew better than to cause trouble. Few seemed particularly noteworthy, but one stood above the rest.

    ( Despite the steely demeanor, Brock was sure he’d prove himself the most amusing. Even if he did show the most resolve– )

“They’re payin’ me to be a glorified guard. I’m guardin’ you. You’d make a helluva martyr, Barnes. An even better patsy.”

some asshole: “Why do you even like that character?”

me: “Because they’re a great character.”

asshole: “But they’ve done so many shitty and problematic things, you can’t just excuse-”

me: “I said a GREAT CHARACTER not a GOOD PERSON you imaginationless wet napkin, this character is an asshole and a human disaster who deserves everything coming to them but they c a n s t i l l b e m y f a v o r i t e”

I absolutely hate his idea in fandom that a character has to be a “good person” to be a good character. Like where did this come from?? I don’t understand. I love fucked up characters, characters who make mistakes, characters who fuck shit up just for fun, characters who do awful stuff because they want to or feel they have to or just know they can. I want complex characters. I want complicated characters. I want good characters. Good people are overrated.

Sergeant Leo Barnes for @grillo

hailophelia: 

“Charming.”

“It would seem those prisoners’ MANNERS have begun to wear off on you.”

Hilarious — that would infer that he HAD ANY, before.

Brock only smirked, letting the remark roll off his back. He could have blamed a prisoner, or the prison staff for the delay...but hey. He knew why he had gotten this gig. He had her to thank, as much as he did his own mouth. The mask had, admittedly, gone to his head. This was his punishment, a way of taking him down a peg, he was sure. 

"I’m here now. The fact you actually felt the need to see me face to face, it piqued my curiosity.”

Send “✆” for a MORNING text. Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. Send “☎” for a RUSHED text. Send “⁇” for a DRUNK text. Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text. Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text. Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text. Send “#” for a RANDOM text. Send “@” for a SCARED text. Send “&” for a LOVING text. Send “%” for a CURIOUS text. Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text. Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text. Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text.

I don’t care who remembers me.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t want to come.”

“ ––––––––––––––––– You’re LATE.”

Brock Rumlow: Hart Island Prison Guard

♪ [whistles Put a Little Love in Your Heart] ♪

All Blood. No Tears.