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#marvel gifs
ayo-edebiri · 14 hours
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FLORENCE PUGH BTS of Thunderbolts
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solidsmax · 17 hours
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X-MEN 97' - 1.03 | Fire Made Flesh Madelyne Pryor
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mndvx · 17 hours
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X-MEN ‘97 — Fire Made Flesh (S01E03)
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tomshiddles · 17 hours
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Daredevil S02E05 Kinbaku
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undercovercannibal · 20 hours
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X-Men '97 1x03 “Fire Made Flesh”
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cynilox · 20 hours
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Jean Grey & Madelyne Pryor in Marvel Animation's X-Men '97
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skeletonfumes · 8 hours
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X-Men '97
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metalbvcky · 18 hours
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#capassflip
Bonus gif from my elevator gifset @catws-anniversary
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mndvx · 18 hours
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Time to wake up, my queen. X-MEN ‘97 — Fire Made Flesh (S01E03)
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thevulturesquadron · 9 hours
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foreshadowing
This scene broke my heart twice. Once because of the fantastic speech. Second because we know how this is going to end.
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undercovercannibal · 23 hours
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X-Men '97 1x03 “Fire Made Flesh”
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fandomnerd9602 · 7 hours
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Rockstar!Wanda smiles lustfully as Y/N walks into her dressing room…
Wanda: I saw you looking at me for the whole set
Y/N: w-well with how great you are on guitar, h-how could I not?
Wanda: (purrs) oh detka, don’t be nervous
Wanda caresses Y/N’s face…
Wanda: I don’t bite. Much. What do you say we go get some burgers and a shake?
Y/N: I-I’d like that.
Wanda lets out a devious giggle…
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For @lifespectator
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dameronology · 18 hours
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we can't be friends (steve rogers)
summary: based on we can't be friends by ariana grande
warnings: angst, swearing
sorry for being absent for six months. even more sorry that this is what i came back with. enjoy!
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Being loved by Steve Rogers was like sunlight on a stormy day. Peaking through the clouds, encouraging you to come out of whatever shelter you'd chosen; letting you smell the fresh rain on the pavement as the light finally came through, taking back the water until next time. It was warm on your skin, right through to your bones and your heart and to your very soul. You could have basked in it forever.
The mornings were your favourite, waking up to golden alabaster skin, carved into his muscles. They were slightly scarred, with jagged pink marks of stab wounds and bullet skims and far too many near misses for you to be comfortable. Of course, he healed faster than most but when you were as trigger happy as Steve Rogers was, barely a mission went by when he didn't come home with some minor wound or another. Still, him being there was the most important part. He'd let out a sleepy little yawn and subconsciously roll over to hold you, taking him in his arms and pulling you to his chest. That was where you felt safest.
No matter how busy he was or how demanding work became, Steve always showed up. Flowers waiting for you on the counter after a bad day; ordering take out when you were ill and always making sure your favourite show was recorded on the DVR. You never even had to ask. He'd buy you new roses before your old ones had even began to wilt; had your busiest work days recorded in your phone calendar so that he could step up, even when his own job was pulling him across the country. That was the thing about Steve Rogers: he always showed up.
Until he didn't.
Being loved by Steve Rogers was like sunlight on a rainy day, but waiting for him to love you back was a never-ending storm. Rain pelting down, hammering onto your clothes and seeping through to your skin and your bones and eventually drowning your heart. There was no dry escape. No shelter to hide from the rain. You always felt it - the wet, the cold, the shivering - no matter how hard you tried to escape. There was no getaway from the realisation that he no longer loved you back, or from the 19 miscalled waiting on his phone, or from the dead roses wilted on your kitchen windowsill.
Long conversations about your future had turned into silent, screaming pauses. The arguments felt pointless. You could only beat a dead horse so many times before you realised it wasn't coming back to life.
You sat on opposite ends of the sofa now. Slept on different sides of the bed. Watched your favourite show in silence whilst he tapped away at his laptop, barely even bothered by your presence. He'd sat too a high standard for himself. It was one he couldn't keep, but even the bare minimum was a golden standard compared to what he was giving you these days.
"I'm done."
You'd surprised yourself more than anyone with the words. Steve had come home from work late again. The fourth time that week, twelfth time that month and countless times overall. You'd made dinner. It was cold now, like the stony expression on his face and the watery one on yours.
"What?"
Steve glanced up from his phone, brow furrowed.
"I'm done," you said.
"With what?"
You sighed deeply, regathering yourself for a moment. Pushed down the lump in your throat, shoulders raised to try and show whatever tatters of your pride you had left.
"I'm leaving you," you said. "I can't...I don't want to sit around and wait for you to love me again."
Steve put his phone down, pausing for a moment. It looked like he was going to say something...maybe anything. Even though your mind was made up, part of you wanted him to beg. To get on his knees, take your hands and plead for your heart back. God knows that this time a year ago, he would have pleaded with you in person and with writing in the sky.
Instead, he just sniffed.
He sniffed, and you left. Keys to your shared apartment thrown into the dish on the side, never to be taken again. At least the Lego heart keys chain you had together would be together again - you know, when he was actually home.
Whatever time you had previously put into your relationship, you now put into yourself. Found a nice little loft on the other side of the river - it felt like the wrong side, but everything felt wrong without him - and decorated it with everything but photos of you together. There was a nice rug, and a beautiful sofa, and your marble counters were a nice welcome home.
Still, the bed felt cold. Not as cold as it had when he'd lovelessly laid beside you, but still. Cold. It felt strange only having one tooth brush in the holder, and only one bottle of shower gel on the edge of your bath. The toilet seat was always down now (Steve had had only one flaw, and that was it) and you always tripped over the shoes that you left by the door because he no longer tidied them away.
It felt like half your heart was missing, but eventually it grew back.
You forgot about Steve, and the Avengers, and that entire world until Natasha Romanoff texted you. It had been six months since your break-up by that point, and even though you missed them all dearly, it had been natural for Steve to get them in the break-up. You had your friends. He had his. But, it was nice that Natasha still thought of you.
Hey, hope you're doing well. I'm having my birthday party next week at my apartment. 7pm, same building as always. It would be nice if you came. Steve may or may not be but he's been annoying lately so I'd rather have you. Let me know <3
At first, it had been an immediate no. Then you thought about it some more, and it was a definitive no. Then, you found yourself calling Nat and talking for three hours straight.
Apparently Morgan was in her One Direction era, and had thrown an hour long tantrum when she found out they weren't together anymore. Pepper and Tony had tried to pay for a reunion, but they weren't interested. Bruce was doing an assignment in France and Clint and his family had moved a little closer to the city. Sam and Bucky were still working for the government and naturally, that had brought Natasha onto the subject of Steve.
Doing better. That's what she said. Apparently he wasn't working as late anymore and he'd cut down his hours. He was going to therapy, drinking less and working out more. She'd lingered on the last sentence, but ended it with he's more like your Steve again.
That made you want to go to the party even less, and yet the following weekend you found yourself stood outside Natasha's high-rise apartment building at 7:35PM. You'd put more effort into your appearance than usual; a more expensive fragrance, spent a little longer on your hair and worn the outfit Steve had always thought you looked best in. Maybe it was a calculated move, but you'd never been all that good at maths.
Your entrance was met with four or five hugs. Natasha looked amazing as ever, and Bucky was brighter now. Tony was elated to see you and you didn't ask about Pepper's little baby bump, but you could see it was there. Your mind was kept too occupied by all them to even think about Steve.
That - naturally - all came crashing down when you saw him across the room. He was leant against a pillar, hair longer now but fluffed up and a 5 o'clock shadow gathered on his chin. Not like the man with long hair and a beard that you'd left, but not quite the squeaky clean looking Steve you'd fallen in love with either. Still though, it was closer. He was showing through the cracks.
The question of whether or not you would approach him answered itself, because you blinked and suddenly he was stood in front of you.
"I owe you an apology."
Straight to the fucking chase.
You faltered slightly, but didn't let it show. "Yeah, I think you do."
Steve glanced around you at all your friends - naturally, they were all staring at you. They might have been superheroes but that didn't stop them being nosey fuckers.
"Let's go to the roof," he said. "I mean...if you want. You don't owe me anything."
You nodded your head. "Let's go to the roof."
The climb up the stairs to Natasha's terrace was awkward, but not as bad as the silence that quickly filled the cold air as soon as you got up there. Steve might have been one of the bravest men you'd ever met, but vulnerability scared the shit out of him. You suspected that was the case now.
"So?" you asked. "What could you possibly have to say?"
"I'll only say that I'm sorry once," Steve began. "So: I'm sorry. For pushing you out, for not trying, for letting work consume me. Even more for the fact I didn't even try to stop you leaving, because as soon as you shut the door, all I wanted to do was run after you, but I'm not stupid. I knew your mind was made up."
"Where are you going with this?"
"You leaving was like a bucket of cold water," he continued. "It made me realise a lot of things - about how much I'd left myself go, mostly. I've stopped drinking and started going to therapy, and I have my work hours capped."
You smiled. "Well done, Steve. That's really great."
"I'm better now. Not fully, but...I'm getting there," Steve replied. "I asked Natasha to invite you tonight. She wanted to anyways but it was sort of my idea."
"Why?"
"So I could apologise, but mostly because I want you back in my life," he explained. "As friends, as something more. Hell, I'll take you as my enemy if it means I get to see you again."
You sighed, eyes falling to the ground. What could you even say to that? Enemies sounded pretty good - and definitely well deserved - but you didn't hate Steve. You'd moved on, but that didn't mean you'd lost all capability to love him.
"How do I know you won't do it again?" you asked.
"You don't," he replied. "I don't know that either, but what if it doesn't happen again? What if...what if things were really good?"
You glanced away, eyes staring at the distant Manhattan skyline for a moment. It glittered and glimmered, mostly rebuilt after the 2012 incident. You could see Stark Tower as well. Steve had told you he loved you for the first time on that roof top. Now, here he was, begging for you back on another.
"Friends," you muttered. "We can be friends. I don't know after that. I've waited six fucking months for you to decide that you love me again-"
" - I never stopped -"
" - not the point, Steve!" you cut him off. "We'll start with friends, then go from there."
"I'll wait ten years if I have to," he said. His smile suggested he was joking, but you knew he wasn't.
With that, Steve pulled you into a hug. In your soul, you knew you couldn't be friends. Enemies was worst but strangers was horrible too. The answer was inevitable, but you just had to make him wait a little while.
maybe a part 2?
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primal-slayer · 13 hours
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lunaroserites · 14 hours
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Too Sweet - Drabble
This song has been on loop in my head for days, it has me in a choke hold.
Paring: Established Bucky X Fem!Reader (Sugar)
Summery: Just a snippet at Sugar and Bucky's juxtaposition as a couple. Bucky is an Avenger and Nat's alive.
Warnings: Mild depiction of violence, blood, alcohol and fluff, implied smut at the end.
Word Count: ~560
Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3
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His vibranium arm made contact with this guy's jaw instantly snapping it. He dropped him to the ground and shook the blood off his arm and it splattered on the concrete below his feet. 
You watered your little ivy plant and touched the leaf gently, examining it for decay. You placed the small watering can down and then scratched under the little white cat's chin. She mewled softly and purred loudly. 
“Fuck,” he groaned and shot back his whiskey as Widow pulled glass from his flesh arm. Jumping through a window to pursue a target wasn’t the smartest move. But he got him. His vibranium fist clenched the shot glass tightly as Sam poured more amber liquid in it. 
You pulled his sweater on and pulled your thigh high socks up and snuggled into the plush couch he helped you pick out when you moved in. Alpine snuggled into the gray fluffy blanket tucked next to you as she stretched her front legs out. The book you were reading clutched tightly in your hands as you got to the good part. You phone laid face up, a picture of him smushing a kiss to your cheek displayed as it lit up from a text. 
“I’ll take a black coffee,” his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you placed your order, a caramel frappe with extra caramel. He scrunched his nose up at the sickly sweet concoction you drank happily as you walked together up the street toward your shared apartment. 
Black combat boots were lined up next to your ballet flats, his leather jacket hung next to your peach linen coat. Your flowery phone case laid next to his plain black case on the island counter. Your key lanyard was adorned with tickets and pretty keychains and 2 small keys, and his was a plain key loop with about 10 different keys and couple key cards. 
Alpine rubbed up against his rough black jeans a couple times before circling your bare legs and playing with the scalloped hem of your sundress. You reached down and picked the little cat up and cuddled her in your arms, Bucky rubbed under her chin with his metal hand and she purred.  
“Bucky come to bed?” You called softly leaning against the office door frame, it was 2am, you had been bed a couple hours waiting for him at this point. He preferred doing his reports at night, less likely to be interrupted. He turned in his computer chair and took in the sight of you, his t-shirt hung over your frame, bare feet and a sleepy smile. He opened his arms for you to come and snuggle into his chest while he finished the last of his reports.  
“You’re too sweet for me,” he murmured softly into your hair and you passed him a cup of black coffee. 
“You could always do with some sugar hunny,” you said with a sweet smile. Your gruff, rough around the edges boyfriend, and you his sweet as sugar, soft in every way girlfriend. He would never understand how he landed you. 
“You’re the only sugar I’ll ever need,” he whispered into your ear, and his teeth grazed the shell lightly. You shivered at his words and clenched your thighs as his hands gripped your waist gathering his shirt up higher as he picked you and planted you on the counter, filling the space between your legs as they fell open. 
Feel free you send me a message if you have a request or would like more. <3
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Remy LeBeau
X-Men '97
Season 1 Episode 3: Fire made flesh
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