#I defended Sam to this room full of people disagreeing that she would not have made a great leader if Sg1

[theresnothingcruviswithme]

You ever go to a panel at a con where the presenters clearly don’t understand the character they’ve chosen to talk about?

Went to one talking about Women of Stargate and the presenter said the reason Samantha Carter could not be a good SG team leader is because she is a scientist 😵‍💫

[tricksters-captain]

Bucky Barnes imagines - Some Sunny Day Part 4

AN: What a crazy episode! I definitely think this episode was one of the best so far and I cannot wait to see what happens next after that insane ending!

Overall Summary: Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.  

In this chapter: Now in Latvia, you and the boys must find Karli before the Dora take Zemo away (Based on S1 EP4)

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 6,123

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 4, violence, strong language.

Once inside Zemo’s apartment, you started to look through the cupboards. 

Zemo had excused himself to take a bath but you felt starved. 

Even with the limited stock you managed to whip something up for you and Sam. 

“Thank you.” Sam took the bowl from you gratefully. The food Zemo had given you on his private plane wasn’t exactly edible and you were still feeling the affects of the Nagel fail in your body. 

“Well, the Wakandans are here.” Bucky announced as he entered the apartment; having returned from his walk. “They want Zemo. Bought us some more time.”

“”Were you followed?” Sam looked up at him. 

“No.” Bucky made his way over to you and Sam by the kitchen island. 

“How can you be so sure?” Zemo pondered. 

“Cause I know when I’m being followed.” Bucky sent an unimpressed glance to the man in the bathrobe. 

You pushed a bowl of pasta towards Bucky but he shook his head and pulled out his phone.

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least.” Zemo stated. 

“Hey, you shut it.” Sam quipped. “No one’s defending you. You killed Nagel.” 

“You gotta eat.” You whispered to Bucky. 

“Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?” Zemo rounded the island so he was closer to you all.

“I’ll eat later.” Bucky mumbled back to you as he furrowed his brow at twitter. 

“There’s nothing to litigate. You straight shot the man.” Sam argued with Zemo. 

“Sam.” Bucky had found something. 

“What?” Sam turned his attention to Bucky and away from Zemo. 

“Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.” Bucky showed you his phone screen so you could read.

“What? What’s the damage?” Sam’s concern grew quickly. 

“Eleven injured, three dead.” You said after skimming over the article. 

“They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren’t met.” Bucky added as Sam sighed. 

“She’s getting worse.” Zemo spoke up. “I have the will to complete this mission. Do the three of you?”

“She’s just a kid.” Sam was right. She was only young, she reminded you of you when you first joined the avengers. Desperate to fight for a cause. 

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there.” Zemo disagreed. “You’re clouded by it. She’s a supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It’s that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers.”

“You’re talking about our friends.” You felt the need to remind Zemo that you were actually apart of the Avengers as you placed your empty bowl in the sink. 

“The Avengers, not the Nazis.” Bucky felt the need to clarify. 

“So, Karli is radicalised, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.” Sam was determined there wasn’t a need for a fight. 

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her.” Zemo explained as he reached for the bowl you had originally offered Bucky. “Or she kills you.” 

You swatted his hand away to which he frowned at. 

“Maybe you’re wrong, Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve.” Bucky argued his point. 

“Touché.” Zemo picked up a biscuit instead. Holding it on his finger as he spoke. “But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

“Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.” Bucky suggested to you and Sam as he moved over to the couch. 

“And you’ll give up your tour guide?” Zemo asked as he opened the cupboards to look for some food. 

“Yes.” Bucky didn’t hesitate. 

“From my understanding, Donya is like a pillar of the community, right?” Sam interrupted with a new thought. “So, when I was a kid, my TT passed away.”

“Your TT?” Bucky asked, unsure of what Sam had meant. 

“Yeah, my TT, yeah.” Sam nodded. 

“Who is your TT?” Bucky asked as you sat down beside him. 

“Fine. When I was a kid, my aunt passed away and the entire neighborhood got together for a ceremony. It was like a week long. Maybe they’re doing the same thing for Donya.” Sam proposed. He could be right. 

“Worth a shot.” You proclaimed. 

“Your TT would be proud of you.” Zemo sounded more awkward at the use of the phrase before he pulled out a fancy looking tin. “Turkish delight? Irresistible.”

Sam caught the small sweet that Zemo had thrown. 

“I say Zemo put’s some clothes on and we head over to the refugee camp that Donya was staying. See if anyone knows anything about a funeral or ceremony for her.” You ignored Zemo as he looked down at the sweets. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Sam stood from his seat at the island and looked over at Zemo. 

Zemo nodded before disappearing into a bedroom to change. 

It didn't take long to get to the camp from Zemo’s apartment. 

“Shame what’s become of this place. When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful.” Zemo seemed saddened by the state of the buildings being used as the camp. 

“I’m gonna take a look around upstairs. See what you can find out here. And keep an eye on him.” Sam told Bucky as he gestured to Zemo. 

“I’ll stay out of your way.” Zemo promised. 

“(Y/n), you look around through there. See if you can... You know.” Sam pointed down through one of the ground floor doors. You nodded and left the men.

Most of the adults fled when you entered the building but you noticed a young girl who looked too busy with what she was doing to notice. She had looked maybe 16 or 17 years old and she was embroidering an old silk scarf. 

“That’s beautiful.” You knelt down beside her but as you spoke, her eyes shot up and widened with shock and fear. 

“T-t-thank you.” She stuttered as her eyes flittered around the room for help. 

“It’s okay. I was just wondering if I could have a look at it.” You smiled softly at the girl as you held your hand out. 

She reluctantly gave it to you. 

“This truly is beautiful. You are very talented. May I buy it from you?” You placed your hand in your pocket and pulled out a note that you had previously stolen from Zemo’s jacket.

“You c-c-can have it.” She whispered as she stood. You rose with her as you folded the scarf to place into your pocket. 

“I insist.” You took her hand gently and cautiously and placed the money in her palm. She smiled but she still was nervous and full of worry. You figured she knew who you were. 

You folded your hands over hers and that’s when you unplugged the cork on your powers. 

You closed your eyes and within seconds all the girls memories flooded into your head. 

You tried not to react as it happened. 

You tried your best to filter through the memories quickly. When you reached the time after the blip, you slowed down. You saw the horrors of them being rejected, being abandoned and then you saw Mama Donya and Karli. 

You focused on Karli. 

You watched Karli smile and laugh with all the children, she’d play and look after them as Donya looked after Karli. 

Closer memories brought what seemed like events that only just happened. Karli visiting with supplies. 

You saw the mourning of Mama Donya from everyone and then you saw the arrangements for the funeral. 

You opened your eyes and let go of the girls hand. She thanked you again and left. She would have never realised what you had seen as the memories are shown to you within a matter of seconds. 

You leant against the table and inhaled deeply. 

You felt weak again. 

You pushed yourself off the table and headed back out to Bucky. 

Zemo was surrounded by a bunch of small children.

“You okay?”Bucky asked. The second you reappeared he immediately noticed a change in you. 

“I’m okay.” You lied. “I spoke to one of the teenagers inside. I looked inside her head. You were right, Sam. They are having a funeral but she only knew that she would be taken to it later this afternoon.” You explained as Sam joined you both. 

“Good work.” Sam wrapped his arm around you and gave you a small squeeze of appreciation. 

They both knew how hard it must've been for you to use your powers after the Nagel incident. 

The toll of touching the dead had knocked you for six in the past and in a matter of forty eight hours you had touched the dead and looked into the memories of a live person. 

You’ll need an energy boost before you can do this again. 

Zemo turned back to you and you all returned to the apartment. 

“Well, I got nothin’. No one’s talkin’ about Donya.” Bucky slouched down on the couch in defeat. 

“Yeah, it’s because Karli is the only one fighting for them.” Sam joined him on the couch. “And she’s not wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked. 

“For five years, people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbwire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together. And then, boom. Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them, at least Karli’s doin’ somethin’.” Sam explained himself. 

“You really think her ends justify her means? Then, she’s no different than him or anybody else we’ve fought.” Bucky pointed over to Zemo. 

“She’s different. She’s not motivated by the same things.” Sam argued with Bucky.

“Sam’s right.” You spoke up. “When I looked into that girls head I saw a lot of Karli. She means a lot to those people, she is their light, their Captain America. But she’s just a kid. From what I saw she has a whole lot of love in her heart and I'm not saying that hurting and killing people is right but she sees it as the only way to help her people.” 

Zemo had walked over from the kitchen with a tray as you spoke. 

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky questioned him. 

“The funeral is this afternoon.” Zemo only said what you already knew. 

“We know that. Now you know the Dora’s coming for you any minute. In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.” Bucky demanded. 

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli. Hmm. I prefer to keep my leverage.” Zemo sure knew how to push someone’s buttons. 

Bucky shot up and threw Zemo’s cup against the wall. The crashing of the glass made both you and Sam jump to your feet. 

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Bucky threatened Zemo. 

“Take it easy. Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.” Sam tried to de-elevate the situation. “Let me make a call.”

“You want some cherry blossom tea?” Zemo offered Bucky as Sam walked away.

“No, you go ahead.” Bucky grumbled, scowling at the Baron. 

“Come on.” You took Bucky’s hand and pulled him away from Zemo. 

You headed into the bathroom and started to fill up the tub with some cold water. 

“Will you get me some ice?” You asked Bucky to which he complied. 

Once the tub was full of ice water, you stripped and climbed inside. 

Bucky had taken a stool and faced the door to give you some privacy. 

“You shouldn’t let him get to you.” You said as you settled into the water. Your body was screaming at you as the ice touched it but you knew it’d give you the wake up call you and your muscles needed. 

“I don’t.” Bucky grimaced. 

“You don’t? Oh, so the shattered cup in the other room was just a scare tactic?” You mused. 

“Yep.” Bucky grumbled. 

“Okay.” You sighed before going under. 

The cold water hit your brain and you immediately sat back up. 

“Feel better?” Bucky had heard the splashing of the water. 

“Yeah.” You admitted, running your hands over your face and hair. “Can I have my towel?”

Bucky kept his back to you as he passed you the towel. 

You wrapped it around you and stepped out. 

“You can look.” You told him.

Bucky turned and his eyes went straight to the bruises that covered your legs and arms. 

“I’m okay, Buck.” You assured him as you watched the cogs turning in his head. 

“I forget you aren’t...” Bucky’s words dropped off as he stepped closer and lightly took your arm, examining the damage. 

“That I’m not a super soldier?” You smirked. “I may bruise but I can hold a lot more than most, Buck.” 

“Doesn’t stop me worrying.” Bucky admitted as he lowered your arm. 

“I know.” You whispered, looking up at the man’s deep blue eyes.

“You better get dressed. You already know what Sam is thinking with us both being gone right now.” Bucky went to go towards the door when you stopped him. 

“I had a dream about Wakanda on the plane ride here.” You confessed. 

Bucky stopped and looked back at you. 

“It was the day you finally beat the Winter Soldier.” You told him. 

*Flashback*

“These are incredible, Shuri.”  You smiled widely as you threw the new high tech Vibranium knives that Shuri had made for you. 

“I know. I know.” Shuri was well aware of her awesome brain. 

Shuri pressed the combat button on the wall which simulated attackers for intense weapon training. 

You inhaled as you closed your eyes. 

A footstep gave away your first attacker. You threw the knives to the holograms and the attackers were down. You ducked and dodged and jumped around the room as you practised with the knives. 

Shuri cheered you when you finished. You smiled through your heavy breaths and Shuri jogged towards you to give you a fist bump. 

“You are something else, my friend.” Shuri praised you. 

The doors opening behind you made both you and Shuri turn to see who had entered. 

It was Bucky. 

He rushed towards you with a bright smile. His lips seemed to quiver and his eyes were glassy. Something had happened. 

It had happened.

He embraced you tightly and you returned it. Your fingers gripped onto Bucky’s long hair as he buried his face in your neck. 

You looked back at Ayo (who had followed Bucky) and Shuri and mouthed a ‘Thank you’. 

Ayo bowed her head at you before leaving the hall. 

Bucky had finally gotten over HYDRA’s programming after all these years of being held prisoner by a few words. 

You and Bucky stayed like that for what felt like hours. The relief from Bucky washed over you and bound him to you until he was ready to part. 

It was an incredible day.

*End of Flashback*

“Maybe you could sense that the Dora’s were close on our tails.” Bucky suggested. 

“No, we all knew that they’d come for Zemo eventually.” You dismissed the idea. “I think it was after seeing Zemo treat you like him again.” 

Bucky remained silent. 

“I don’t think I ever told you how proud I was of you that day.” You folded your arms over your chest as you leant back on the tub.

“You didn't need to.” Bucky assured you. “I already knew.” 

You watched Bucky leave the bathroom so you could change. 

When you had returned to the main space again it was just about time to head out again. 

You felt a little nervous as you didn’t really want a fight with Karli since you weren’t 100% but you figured you had felt a hell of a lot worse before.

As you left the apartment, a voice and face you didn’t particularly wanna see called out. 

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.” John Walker and his little side kick were walking down some stairs towards you. 

“Ah! How’d you find us now?” Bucky called back. 

“Come on. You think three Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Lemar, Walker’s partner, scoffed. 

“No more keeping us in the dark. You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” Walker pointed out Zemo. 

“He did that himself, technically.” Bucky corrected Walker.  

“This better be an unbelievable explana––”

“––Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.” Sam interrupted Walker before things could get heated in front of civilians.

“I know where Karli is.” Zemo kept walking as the others stopped. 

“Well, where?” Walker asked, stopping Zemo by stepping in his way. 

“All we know is it’s a memorial. So, we’re gonna intercept her there.” Sam informed them.

“That means civilians. High risk of casualties.” Lemar relaid to his partner as you continued to walk.

“All right, good, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.” Walker started to talk through his plan when Sam stopped him. 

“No, I wanna talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again.” Walker argued with Sam. 

“Look, the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable. Now is the best time to reason with her.” Sam was trying to defend his reasoning but Walker wasn’t having it. 

“What? No. Wait, no! No! Stop. Hold on. Stop, okay?” Walker ran up ahead to stop everyone again. “I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.” 

“Sam, you walk in there cold, she could kill you, man.”Lemar tried backing up his partner. 

“If I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die.” Sam handed over the other scenario. 

“You’ll let him do this?” Walker looked between you and Bucky. “Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone?”

“He’s dealt with worse.” Bucky told him flatly. “And he’s not my partner.”

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is in my wheelhouse.” Sam walked past you and Bucky to face Walker.

“I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea.” Walker still wasn't on board. 

“Wait, John.” Lemar stopped Walker.  “If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.”  

“Thank god Battle-scar here has some sense.” You declared. 

“It’s Battle Star actually.”Lemar smiled at you but you ignored him. 

“We’ll deal with you later.” Walker told Zemo as he caved in.

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.” Zemo lead you towards the young girl he had spoken to earlier that day. 

“Hello, my friend. This is for your family. Can you show us the way?” Zemo handed her some money and the girl beckoned for you all to follow.  

“What the hell?” Walker seemed a little confused by Zemo’s ‘associate’ being 12.

The girl lead you to the building where the funeral was being held and you all waited for a signal. 

“Karli’s in there.” Zemo announced as the girl ran off. 

Sam went in whilst Walker cuffed Zemo. 

“You got 10 minutes. Then we are doing things my way.” Walker told Sam before he left. 

“Aggressive.” Zemo mumbled after being handcuffed. “But I get it.”

You rolled your eyes subtly at both Walker and Zemo. 

You took up a position by the door with Bucky. 

You watched Walker sit down, his grip on the shield was tight as he slowly huffed in and out. 

You frowned as you studied the man. Your eyes glanced over to Zemo who was also watching Walker. 

You shared a look before you let your eyes fall back down to your feet.  

“Uh-uh. No, no, no. This is a bad idea.” Walker started to pace as he let his impatience get the best of him. 

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Bucky sighed unimpressed by the young solder. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronise me.” Walker glared back at Bucky. 

“Sam knows what he’s doing.” You backed Bucky up. 

You all watched Walker stop as he thought. His heavy breathes causing his chest to rise up and down quickly. 

“I’m goin’ in.” Walker didn’t want to listen anymore. He stormed towards the door but both you and Bucky stepped in his way.

“This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” Walker didn’t even look at you as he squared up to Bucky. 

That really bothered you.

You took hold of the man’s upper arm and yanked him to look at you. 

“You may be Captain America right now but we don’t follow you. We said we’d give him 10 minutes. So, he’s getting 10 minutes.” You glowered at the man. 

“Your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?” Walker leant towards you, trying to be intimidating but it wasn’t working. 

“Just wait.” You looked the man in the eye with a subtle threat in your stare. His jaw clenched as he tugged his arm away from you. 

Walker went back to look at the clock again. 

After a couple more minutes, he tried once more. 

“Time’s up! Our turn.” Walker didn’t hesitate to push past you as he charged ahead. 

Bucky kept his tongue in his cheek as he watched it happen. 

You and Bucky stayed behind Walker and his partner as they marched ahead.

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest.” Walker announced as he entered the room. 

“This is what that was?” Betrayal flashed across Karli’s face as she looked at Sam. 

“No, wait––” Sam didn’t have a chance now that Walker had intervened.

“––Tricking me until help came?” Karli started to back away. 

“We had enough time to talk.” Walker exclaimed as he headed straight for Karli. 

“Nazi! “ Karli wasn't going the easy way. She hit Walker back and he went straight into a table. 

Lemar tried to keep you and Bucky back but you had easily managed to get round him to chase after Karli. 

Bucky being what he was managed to get ahead of you but you were close on their trail. 

Sam had found his own way but ultimately you all lost Karli. 

“I lost her.” Bucky sighed.

“This place is a maze.” Sam looked around at the several doorways with a frown. 

The sound of gunshots is what caught your attention next. 

“Come on.” You rushed through the building trying to get to the source. 

You didn’t manage to get there before Walker did. 

Zemo was unconscious on the floor and vials of the serum were smashed around the concrete floor. 

“What happened?” You asked as you looked down at the mess. 

“He was shooting at Karli. I stopped him but she got away.” Walker lifted his shield a little to symbol how he had stopped Zemo. 

“Let’s get him up.” Sam started down the stairs and you followed. 

Zemo woke up after a little encouragement and some smelling salts. You had decided it was best if you split up on your way back to the apartment. 

You and Sam were going to stay with Zemo and see if you can dig up anything on socials and the computer and Bucky was going to do a round and see if she had holed up anywhere familiar. 

Sam sat at his computer, he was contacting Sharon whilst you stood with your phone searching Twitter to see if any Flag Smashers appearances or Karli were popping up in recent tweets. 

Zemo laid down on the couch with a wet towel and a strong glass of scotch. 

“You got anything?” Sam asked you. 

“Nothing. I don’t think we’ll find her this time if she doesn’t want us too.” You put your phone down in defeat. It wasn't usual for people to give her Karli’s location anyway. 

“I think you’re right.” Sam hated to agree but this was the first time you had come close to actually talking Karli down and it failed. 

“And now with the serum’s gone. Who knows what her next move will be.” You knew that Karli didn’t have the option to create more super soldiers now and that gives her a disadvantage. The idea of an army is gone now and she would only have her current foot soldiers to help her. 

Zemo moved for the first time in ten minutes as he lifted his cold compress. 

“Were you ever offered it?" He asked aloud. 

“What?” Sam furrowed his brow at the man. 

“The serum.” Zemo replied. 

“No.” Sam smirked at the idea. 

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?” Zemo inquired. 

“No.” Sam answered instantly, his smile dropping. 

“No hesitation. That’s impressive.” Zemo nodded before removing his towel. “Sam. (Y/n). You can’t hold out hope for Karli. No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?” Sam queried. “And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky?” There was a silence from Zemo. “Blood isn’t always the solution.” 

Before the conversation could continue, the door opened and Bucky strode inside.

“Something’s not right about Walker.” Bucky stated as he removed his jacket. 

“You don’t say.” Sam huffed with amusement. It was clear as day that Walker was at his wits end with the pressure on him.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.” Bucky poured himself a glass of whiskey. You rolled your eyes at his statement. 

“Can’t argue with that.” Sam retorted. 

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.” Bucky was back on this topic again. 

“I didn’t give him the shield.” Sam rose to his feet to face Bucky.

“Well, Steve definitely didn’t.” Bucky sipped on his drink just as the doors flew open. 

All right. That’s it. Let’s go. I’m now ordering you to turn him over.” Walker commanded, his face red and his ears steaming. 

“Hey, slow your roll. Shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth. Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’ll need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.” Sam approached Walker to try and pump his breaks. 

“How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam, huh?” Walker chuckled softly as Sam remained silent. “Yeah. Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?”

Sam scoffed, shaking his head at the man’s antics. 

Walker put down the shield but the only thing flying next was a spear that struck the pillar by Walker’s head. 

It was the Dora Milaje. 

They had come for Zemo. 

From your time in Wakanda you understood the language as Ayo spoke to Bucky. 

“Even if he is a means to an end. Your time is up.” Ayo reverted back to English. “Release him to us now.” 

Walker introduced himself to Ayo, not that she cared for him.

“Well let’s, uh, put the pointy sticks down and we can talk this through, huh?” Walker suggested, only to be met, yet again, by silence from the Dora’s.

“Hey, John, take it easy. You might wanna fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje.” Sam tried to warn him but he wasn’t backing down. 

“They don’t have jurisdiction here––”

“––The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.” Ayo cut Walker short. 

“Okay.” John chuckled lightly. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Walker made the mistake of putting his hand on Ayo’s shoulder. 

Ayo responded with an attack. 

The surrounding Dora’s fell into defence positions as Ayo and Walker fought.  Lemar bounced into action, trying to help his partner out but it only warranted in more fighting. Or more asses getting kicked by the Dora Milaje. 

“We should do something.” Sam said as you, him and Bucky stood together watching. 

“Looking strong, John.” Bucky called out. 

“Bucky!” You tried not to laugh as you scolded the man. 

“Guys...” Sam nodded to Ayo about to strike John with her spear which made Bucky reluctantly intervene. 

“Ayo, let’s talk about this.” Bucky only landed himself directly in the mess. 

You realised how serious this was as Ayo didn’t hold back and went ahead to help Bucky. Sam went over to help Lemar but was met by more Dora's.

You grunted as one of the women attacked you. You had almost forgotten just how incredible they were at combat. Almost. 

You were backed against a wall with the spear to your chest when the room fell silent. 

You looked over at Bucky to see his arm was on the floor. 

You wanted to move towards him but you were stuck until orders were given to release you. 

“He is gone. Leave it.” Ayo had opened the bathroom doors to reveal the manhole had been opened. Zemo had escaped. 

You were trying to slow your breathing when finally the Dora’s fell back. 

She retracted her spear and left with Ayo and the others. 

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked Bucky as he pushed himself off the floor. 

Bucky reattached his arm. He groaned as he swung it round to adjust it. 

“No.” He said but the shock on his face from before had already given away that answer. 

You looked past Bucky to where Walker was still on the floor. 

“You all right, man?” Lemar offered his hand to help him up. 

“They weren’t even Super Soldiers.” You heard Walker mutter. 

“Come on.” Lemar tugged him to his feet. 

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.” Sam walked over to the bathroom and stared at the hole. 

“I can.” Bucky wasn’t really that surprised and neither were you truthfully. 

“Come on.” You beckoned the boys out of the apartment so you could talk. 

You got down to the streets and away from Walker before you spoke again. 

“Walker isn’t stable. He’s on the brink of cracking.” You kept your voice low as you spoke to the boys. 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. 

“We may not like him but he’s not stupid. He knows that he can’t be Steve, do the things Steve did and it’s killing him. He's so obviously trying to win this fight by himself and it’s going to drive him insane if he isn’t the one to beat Karli.” 

“But he can’t beat Karli. You saw her kick him across the room like he was a cardboard box.” Sam reminded you of what happened earlier. 

“We have to get to Karli before he does because he’s either gonna stop her or kill himself trying.” You weren't worried for the man but worried about what would happen if he finally snapped. 

Suddenly, Sam’s phone started to ring. It was his sister. 

“She said what? Right. Hold on, hold on. I know, I know. Listen, pack an overnight bag and take the boys...” Sam sounded worried. 

“What happened?” Bucky asked. 

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Sam told you both. “Okay. Go somewhere safe. Only pay cash. All right? Tell me when you arrive. I know. Look, I love you. I’ll never let anything happen to you and the boys. Okay. Bye.” He hung up and then immediately texted an unknown number. 

“What does she want?” You knew Karli was desperate but threatening kids was a different story.

“Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number.” Sam’s phone buzzed with a new text. “She said come alone.”

“We’re coming with you.” Bucky wasn’t going to take no for an answer. 

“Alright but keep your distance.” Sam didn’t bother to fight you on it. “We better suit up.” 

You suited up by adding a few more weapons to your body. You placed your favourite thigh holsters on that held your Vibranium knives out on display. 

Sam got his wings and soon you were at the location. 

“Karli!” Sam bellowed as you entered the building. 

Karli leant over a balcony to make herself seen. You remained on the ground floor but looked up at the girl. Bucky followed Sam. 

“You called my sister? That’s how we’re gonna play this?” Sam was upset and understandably so. 

“Sam, I would never hurt her. I just wanted to understand you better.” Karli confessed.“I see you, um, didn’t come alone.”Karli peered down at you then up at Bucky. 

“You have to end this now.” Sam told her. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re a tool in the regimes I’m looking to destroy. You’re not hiding behind a shield. If I were to kill you, it’d be meaningless. I was gonna ask you to join me. Or do the world a favour and let me go.” Karli spoke pretty boldly for someone who seemed to be alone. Super Soldier or not. 

“Hey, Sam, new Cap is moving, looks like he’s found them, or maybe they found him.” Sharon’s voice came through on Sam’s intercom. 

“It’s Walker.” Sam looked down at you and then Bucky. 

Karli jumped from the balcony at the realisation the jig was up but Bucky was quick to jump too. 

Karli kicked Bucky back but you managed to weaken Karli as you flipped over and kicked her in the jaw. 

Sam put her down momentarily as he flew down and kicked her also. 

“I’ll send you the location. Go!” Sam ordered both you and Bucky before he took off. 

You knew Bucky would be fast enough to run there but you didn’t have that luxury. 

You crossed the street to a parked motorbike and opened up it’s wiring. Just as you managed to get it running, Sam’s coordinates came through. 

You docked your phone and set off. 

You dodged through the narrow streets and traffic to arrive at another large building. Karli must have a favour for buildings you could get lost in. 

You drove through the doors and skidded to a stop. 

Bucky had gotten there before you. You could hear his grunts from a flight or two up. 

You raced up them only to be met by a super soldier fighting Bucky. 

You sent a knife forward, it embedded itself into the man’s soldier, he cried out which gave Bucky some time to throw him down the stairs. 

You tucked up, over the tumbling body, holding onto the railing and the wall. 

Bucky jumped over the rails and with one final blow knocked the soldier unconscious. 

“Stay there.” Bucky told him before climbing back up to you. He thanked you for the help, handing you back the knife that had been in the man’s shoulder. 

You then both went ahead to find Sam and Walker. 

They were fighting more super soldiers a floor up. 

You didn’t hesitate to go in for the attack.

You pulled a knife and threw it to Bucky for help; he caught it midair. 

You screamed with frustration as the soldier you were fighting, pulled your arm behind you and slammed you into the pillar. You managed to swivel around, taking out the soldiers legs as you freed your arm. 

You threw a knife into both his biceps. You only intended to injure, not kill, them anyway. 

He groaned as he pulled them and tried to use them against you. 

All at once, the fighting stopped when you all witnessed Karli kick Lemar into one of the concrete pillars. 

Lemar’s body slumped down with blood painted across his lips. 

John broke free from his attacker and slowly made his way over to Lemar. 

From the sight of the body, you already knew he wasn’t walking out of there. 

Walker desperately tried to wake him up. 

That’s when Karli took her chance to flee. 

You and the boys took off after her but lost her again pretty quickly. 

When you rounded the building, you saw a crowd gathering. 

What you saw next made you feel psychically sick. 

John Walker stood above Karli’s right hand man, blood splattered up Steve’s shield and across his uniform. 

He had killed the man in front of all these civilians. He had killed a man as Captain America. 

(PART 5 HERE)

Bucky Barnes Tag List

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[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Gladiolus

I don’t own this gif. Find the original here.

Miniseries Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader Word count: 1123

Gladiolus represents remembrance, faithfulness, sincerity, and strength of character.

It had been a while since you had seen Natasha. To be fair, you hadn’t expected to see her again after your first date. It was a total shitshow. But when she asked you out for a second one and then a third, you were fairly certain all was well. Then she came over more and more. First staying for a night, then a weekend, then a week, and now is the first time in two months that she left you alone for longer than two days. It’s fair to say you’re worried but Natasha has never given you a reason to worry about her. She stands her ground. That doesn’t mean you don’t want her home to make sure she’s safe and sound. But what if she’s just ghosting you so she doesn’t have to break up with you. Wait, are you two even together? Neither of you ever asked.

You sigh loudly as you find yourself rewatching stupid reality TV again. Normally, you’d spend this time talking to Natasha. Debating anything and everything under the sun until you two would just agree to disagree. A smile appears on your face as you think about those moments. Out of nowhere, something shatters one of your windows. You shriek in fear and jump up from your seat to check and potentially protect yourself but it seems you don’t need to. Suddenly, you’re face to face with Captain America. ‘You’re Y/n Y/l/n?’ ‘I am,’ you answer, ‘is this about Natasha? Because I haven’t seen her in weeks.’ ‘I know, that’s why I’m here,’ he says, ‘put on some shoes, we’re leaving.’ ‘What?’ ‘Put on some shoes-’ ‘Yes, I heard that, I’m not deaf,’ you snap at him. He smiles slightly at your comment. ‘I see why Natasha likes you,’ he tells you, ‘but I don’t have time to explain.’ He doesn’t give you more time and just scoops you off your feet, jumping out of the building with you. Your eyes widen but you don’t manage to scream. He lands easily and puts you inside a car. ‘What the hell is going on,’ you snap as he gets into the driver’s seat. ‘Good to see you too sweetheart,’ you hear a familiar, raspy voice say. Then, Natasha turns towards you from the passenger’s seat. ‘I missed you.’ ‘Oh fuck you,’ you snap at her with a smile plastered on your face. She chuckles because she knows you don’t mean it. ‘I missed you too but please explain to me why mister America here couldn’t use my front door.’ ‘We’re on the run,’ Steve tells you, ‘sorry about your window.’ ‘Why did you kidnap me if you’re on the run,’ you ask Natasha, completely ignoring Steve. ‘Anyone with two brain cells can figure out where I’ve stayed the last few months and I doubt they’d think it was platonic if they find out you live in a one-bedroom apartment,’ she explains to you, ‘I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire so we’re bringing you to a safe house.’ You can’t help the self-satisfied grin on your face as you lean back into your car seat. ‘You love me.’ Natasha chuckles and looks back ahead out the window. ‘You don’t have to say it now. I’ll get it out of you one way or another.’ ‘Is that a threat?’ ‘It’s a promise.’ Steve seems highly uncomfortable with the way the two of you talk as he tries to keep his eyes on the road and his knuckles are turning white. ‘Could you two calm down a little,’ Steve tries to ask nicely. ‘I haven’t seen her in weeks,’ you say to defend yourself, ‘be happy I’m not jumping her right now. If you weren’t in the car, I would.’ ‘Oh, is that all I am to you,’ Natasha teases. ‘What? A pretty face to sit on? No, but it’s certainly a plus.’ Steve turns a bright shade of red as Natasha bursts out in laughter.

A man walks up the car as the three of you get out but you don’t really care for him. You walk over to Natasha and press a longing kiss to her lips, something you wanted to do from the second you saw her. ‘Eager, are we,’ she smirks at you as she takes your hand. ‘Ah, so this is the lucky gal,’ he says with a grin as he walks up to you with open arms, ‘nice to meet you. I’m Sam Wilson.’ He pulls you into a friendly hug. ‘Hi, Y/n Y/l/n,’ you turn to Natasha, ‘does everyone here know about me?’ ‘No, just these two,’ she tells you, ‘I trust them.’ You nod and know that it takes a lot for her to trust. When you two first started dating you noticed she never talked about herself, she would just direct all questions back to you. For her to say that she trusts these people makes you feel a lot more at ease. ‘Then I trust them too.’ She nods proudly and walks you into the grim-looking building. You follow closely behind. As you walk through a long, cement hallway, you have a look around. The building feels cold and is clearly abandoned. Yet, it does look clean. Maybe it’s a safe house? That thought goes out the window as Natasha shows you to a room that seems hastily put together to suit the needs of a person. ‘I’m really sorry about all this,’ she tells you as you sit down on the bed. You pat the spot next to you to ask her to come over. She does but you can tell she feels hurried. She doesn’t have much time for some quiet conversation. ‘Don’t be sorry,’ you say, ‘I’m glad you came back for me.’ She smiles meekly. ‘Still, I should’ve told you. I’m surprised you didn’t attack Steve with a bat when he came in,’ she chuckles. ‘I was about to but I remembered you told me some time that you were acquaintances,’ you explain to her as she gets up to leave again, ‘but you do owe me an explanation when you get back. Oh, and one question before you go.’ ‘Yes?’ ‘Does this mean I’m your girlfriend,’ you ask with a cocky smile. ‘I mean, I did tell my friends about you. Do with that information as you will.’ You roll your eyes and get up. She takes a step towards you, gently laying her hands on your waist as you grab her face and press a longing, desperate kiss to her lips. ‘Come back to me in one piece?’ ‘Always.’ ‘I’ll keep you to that.’

[trillian-anders]

chambers - vii

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, angst, slow burn

word count: 4597

Description: post-endgame. Steve Rogers has passed away from old age. The one remarkable thing is that no one knew his heart would be in the condition it was. He was able to save one more life. After receiving his heart, strange things start happening. Including something that would change your life forever. (Inspired by the Netflix series of the same name.)

Helmut Zemo.

 What do we know about Helmut Zemo? 

He was a former Colonel of the Sakovian Armed Forces. He lost his entire family during the Ultron ordeal in Sakovia. He was a former commander of the EKO Scorpion special forces. He hated the Avengers. He hated Steve Rogers. He planned an attack for a year, knowing he couldn’t take the Avengers on himself, he pulled a pin exactly where he knew it would make the tower fall. Bucky Barnes. 

He knew Steve Rogers would do anything to get Bucky Barnes back, the Winter Soldier hiding out in Romania, Captain America had been looking for him for a while. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Zemo. Framing Bucky Barnes took work, but it was necessary. He bided his time, finding the Winter Soldier’s handbook, setting a bomb. Finding the recording that would turn Tony Stark against Steve Rogers. Destroying that trust. Destroying two of the big three. 

But there he was, sitting in his cell at the Joint Counter Terrorist Center. 

“There were memories of Zemo approaching them.” Wanda explained. “Both in the same way, he came to them. Hired them.” Zemo was sitting on his bunk, reading. 

“I’m going to go down there tomorrow,” Sharon explained, “Make sure it’s actually him.” She looked to the people in the room. “If he’s somehow escaping or if this is someone else using a disguise… we’ll have a big problem on our hands. 

“EKO Scorpion was like Sokovia’s own private STRIKE team. A kill squad of the highest caliber. If he’s on the streets…” Sam continued, “We need to get him back off of them, by any means necessary.” 

The Avengers. Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, King T’Challa, Scott Lang, Clint Barton. And those were the ones currently on planet. 

Crime had been low since the blip in general. When half of the population disappeared people were more worried about picking themselves back up off the ground rather kicking other people while they were already down. After it was reversed there was chaos in bringing everyone back. Sure there were petty crimes, always. But nothing to the magnitude that Zemo could bring if this intel was true. 

No one outside this room could be trusted. 

“Not even Y/N.” Sharon claimed. Bucky bristled at the thought. They had to keep you in the dark on this. You could be a pawn in a bigger game. The more you knew, the less they could protect you Bucky reasoned. But Sharon was covering bases. It was what she was good at. You weren’t an Avenger. You weren’t an agent. 

“She’s a liability.” Sharon continued, “While Zemo still seems to want her she’ll stay on base and Bruce, you continue your testing, but I think it’s for the best that we still treat her like an outsider.” It makes sense. Bucky and Sam shared a look, Wanda visibly tensed in front of them. 

“She has nothing to do with this,” Wanda defended, “The attack-”

“We just need to cover all of our bases,” Sharon reiterated, “She came out almost completely unharmed from an attack with five men where she’s completely untrained. We still don’t know the capacity in which the heart is affecting her and until we do, we have to treat her like she’s a patient. Keep your distance.” She was not winning them over, “At least until we figure out more of what’s going on.” She nodded to Sam who stood from his chair, coming to the end of the conference table. 

“Zemo is dangerous,” Sam started, “Obviously, the dude has no moral compass.” His hands rested on the table looking at the group, “Sharon, you and Wanda are going to JCTC to meet with Zemo… get in his head, make sure he is who he says he is.” His eyes shifted to Peter Parker, 

“Pete you’re going to help Bruce here with Y/N, we have to expedite the testing unfortunately, Bucky and Clint will take the streets. Zemo has to have some sort of base nearby. Scott and I will be going through CCTV footage around the city and looking into old EKO Scorpion members.” He stood tall, hands on his hips, looking back to the monitors behind him, looking more like Cap than ever, “T’Challa is going to look through different avenues internationally looking into his old stomping grounds.

Alright, we all have our assignments. Let’s get it done.” 

“It’s not fair to her,” Wanda started, “Not letting her know what’s going on.” Bucky and Sam frowned in unison. 

“I don’t like it either,” Sam said, “But she’ll immediately know who Zemo is and she’ll know what kind of threat she’s up against. She needs to finish her testing, see what’s fully going on.” He stepped off the elevator onto the compounds resident floor. 

“She’ll hurt herself otherwise.” Bucky agreed. “We just have to keep her in the dark until we find out what exactly is going on here. None of us like it.” 

Wanda felt unsure if that really was the best avenue of defense, but didn’t really have much room to disagree. 

Bucky watched from the other side of the glass as you laughed, Eric was looking a little better today. The swelling had gone down a bit, the charming bastard was talking to you, closely. Your full attention on him as he told you a story about his youth. Head propped up by your hand, elbow on the armrest of the chair. You were enraptured. It gave Bucky a strange feeling in his chest.  

Something was off about this guy and Bucky couldn’t figure out what. Wanda cleared him. ‘No ill will’ was found in his mind, but he really liked you. That’s what she said to him. He didn’t feel comfortable with Eric getting close to you. He was unconsciously clenching his fists on the other side of the glass. 

“It was very embarrassing.” Eric laughed, “Here I was on my very first date with a girl, thirteen years old, and I threw up in the middle of the movie.” 

“I’m surprised you’d ever dated again.” You humored. You liked him. You did. 

When you had explained what happened to you, describing how in your chest rested the heart of the deceased Steve Rogers and you’d been experiencing his memories, he took it in silently. He really listened. Yes, you’d told Wanda everything. But Bucky and Sam were a different story. Bucky was a different story. He didn’t want to hear it, the one you wanted to talk to the most. 

He wasn’t ready, and that’s okay.

But Eric was. Eric was ready for whatever you had to throw at him. “It really makes you think about how the heart and the head really work together, huh.” He smiled. You’d vented to him, honestly. About how hard it was to have all of these friends who don’t know who you are. To have all of these heartstrings pulled every day. You’d told him about the research Bruce was doing. Only a little. Just enough for him to know that they were working on figuring out how to get the memories to stop, or at least manageable. 

You’d caught Bucky when he’d moved in front of the glass. He stood there for a moment watching before tapping two metal fingers against it and curling them towards him. C’mere. 

“I’ll be back.” You told Eric, removing yourself from the room. You could feel his eyes on you from his hospital bed from the other side of the glass. “What’s up?” You’d wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling your cardigan closely around your body as you stood across from the super soldier. “Did you find out who they’re working for?” His face was tense, you knew that face. “What happened?” His eyes wouldn’t meet yours. 

So it was bad news. 

“I’m gonna have to go away for a bit.” He said. Your heart panged in your chest, “We’re going out to find who they are and what they want,” He glanced into the hospital room, Eric’s eyes steadily focused on the television there. “But I’m gonna be off compound for a bit.” You sighed, nodding, following his eyes into the hospital room. 

“When do you leave?” You asked. His eyes finally met yours, 

“In twenty.” You didn’t know what to do here, but you were happy he’d come to tell you. He cared enough to let you know that he’d be leaving. “You have my number in your phone?” Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Yeah.” You breathed, the room feeling a little warmer.

“If you need anything,” He said, “I might not answer right away, but--”

“I understand.” He shifted awkwardly in front of you, eyes drifting to your feet. He seemed to be debating something. His hand slowly reached for your arm, gently pulling you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly, resting his face in your hair. Your heart was racing, arms coming to wrap around him just as tightly.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” Whispered softly in your hair, tears welling up in your eyes, you rolled them to the ceiling trying to stop them from falling, but it was useless. 

“How can I?” You let out a watery laugh, the hug ended and your teary eyes met his, “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He smirked, eyes betraying sadness, stepping back from you before turning and walking down the hall, giving you one last lingering glance as the elevator doors close. 

“What was that about?” Eric asked as you reentered the room. You pushed your hair out of your face, tucking the strands behind your ears. 

“Just leaving for a mission,” You sat back in the chair. “He just wanted to check in on me.” Eric nodded, picking at the sheet. 

“Should I be worried?” You laughed softly, heart aching. 

“We’re just friends, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smirked, 

“It was.” 

Peter Parker was energetic. The eighteen year old kid who just started college moved across the lab on a wheeled chair. Skating from one side to the other. You’d watched him do this at least four times before he spun in a circle fast enough to make you dizzy before his eyes met yours in the doorway, cheeks turning red. “H-hi.” He stuttered. 

“You must be Peter.” The young boy smiled, rolling his chair back to the desk with his feet. 

“Peter Parker, yeah.” You’d known of him. Spider-Man who turned out to be just a teenage boy. You’d never seen him swinging around NYC in person, but you’d seen videos. It was pretty cool. You’d also been told by Bruce that he was extremely smart, he was currently studying biophysics at ESU on a full ride. 

“I’m Y/N.” You sat in the rolling chair across from him. 

“Yeah, I know.” He said, “Well, like, recently they just showed us your picture so.” He swallowed, placing his hands on his knees.  He cleared his throat, looking behind you as Bruce entered.

“You ready?” 

“Okay so, if we use the two dollars I have saved and the three you have saved we should have enough.” Bucky counted the coins laid out on the table in front of the two of you. Water sat still on the stove behind him. The wallpaper was floral and cracking in some places. 

This was their apartment. 

Three potatoes sat next to the stove, ready to be boiled and buttered for dinner. The beef chuck Bucky had brought home earlier in the day sat wrapped in paper next to them. “What do you think?” Bucky was looking at you expectantly. 

God he is beautiful. Here domestic. His hair was soft, he hadn’t put any pomade in it, a soft curl on his forehead. Eyes bright and young. Soft blush pink lips smiling at you. At Steve. 

“I don’t know Buck,” You sighed, finger picking at the doily tablecloth. “I don’t think we should waste our money on it.” Money was hard to come by. Buck pulled long shifts at the canary, but Steve was scraping by selling funnies to the paper. They had just enough. This five extra dollars took a long time to collect and you—Steve—couldn’t justify spending it. Not on himself anyway. 

“Listen,” Bucky licked his lips, “You’re a really good artist, and this would get you some watercolors, a couple canvases, and a new sketchbook. You haven’t painted since your Ma passed buddy.” Your fingers were itching to do it. You wanted to. You did.

“Nah Buck we should save it.” Bucky’s face fell, looking down to the table at their pile of coins. “Maybe use it to fix up some stuff around here. The radiator rattles and winter was coming. Should be enough to get it fixed.” Bucky nodded, moving some of the coins around before slipping them back into the coffee tin. Placing it in the cabinet he turned his back to Steve.

“Just figured it’d make you happy is all.” Bucky mumbles, beginning to chop the potatoes into chunks.

“I am happy Buck.”

Your eyes focused, staring back at the picture of the tubes of paint on the screen in front of your face. 

“Doing alright?” Bruce’s voice came over the microphone in the machine.

You sigh heavily, “Yeah I’m fine.” 

“That wasn’t as bad of a reaction as you’ve been having.” Bruce explained. “Maybe your body is adjusting.” The bed moved, pulling you from the machine where Peter was waiting to unlock the plastic cage around your face, helping you sit from the bed. 

“Thanks Peter.” The teenager smiled, 

“No problem.” The two of you looked at Bruce who sat silently replaying the brain scan. “What do you think is happening Dr. Banner?” 

“Whenever a memory is triggered, one of Steve’s memories,” He started, “It triggers your amygdala and hippocampus just as your actual memory would.” His eyes met yours through the glass. “I’m going to start you on some seizure medication, I think that’s all we can do right now.”

Bucky stared at his phone. No notifications. But why would there be. There would probably be no reason for you to text him anyway. He hoped. No news is good news. Other than the steady updates from Sam of which direction the van carrying Zemo’s thugs had come from there was a fair amount of radio silence. 

Clint stood, hands on his hips in front of the counter at the coffee shop, “Okay Romeo,” the archer quipped, “Whaddya want?” Bucky rolled his eyes, 

“To find the base.” Clint gave him a steady glare before turning to the barista, 

“He’ll have a large black coffee.” It was cold today. Colder than it had been. Fall was finally settling in. Leaves crunched under his boots as he stared down the alley he’d saved you in just two days before. The guy, Eric, his blood was still smeared across the bricks, dried, almost imperceptible to the naked eye. 

“Got the guy good, huh?” Clint took a sip of his latte. Bucky nodded and Clint added, “A little too good.” Their eyes met.

“You can feel it too?” Bucky asked. Clint shrugged. 

“Something is off about it.” He crouched down to study the boot impressions on the ground. Distinctively looking at the soles and seeing all the thugs were wearing the same kind of boots. He took a picture with his phone. “The guy gets beaten within an inch of life, but Y/N barely had a hair out of place.” 

“So are you suspicious of Y/N or of Eric?” Bucky was defensive. He could never believe you had anything to do with this. Clint smirked, 

“She’s really friendly with you.” He stood, exiting the alley. “And Sam…. Wanda too.” The pair started in the direction Sam instructed them to follow. “Wanda trusts her, so I do too. That guy though…”

“You can feel it in your gut right?” Bucky asked. Clint nodded at him as he turned a corner.

“I can feel it in my gut.” 

“Wanda said he was clear, and you trust her.” That was what Clint said about you. The pair continued to walk, eyeing the security cameras on the corner. 

“She said he had no ill will towards Y/N, that doesn’t mean something else isn’t wrong with him.” So Bucky wasn’t crazy. He’d be sure to talk to Sam about it later, but for now, looking down at his phone he fought the urge to text you. To tell you to stay away from Eric. And maybe you would listen. If he’d asked you to do it for him. 

“How are you feeling?” Eric looked a little better. The swelling almost completely gone around his face, just bruises turning yellow and green. He smiled softly at you. 

“A lot better today.” Your fingers tightened around your phone as you settled into the seat, the tv ambling softly in the background. It’s only been a day but you missed Bucky. You always saw him at some point whether it was during a meal, the morning jog you’d begun taking up, or in passing in the hall. His absence was felt. 

“Good,” You smiled back. “Getting bored down here?” The handsome man shrugged. 

“It’s not so bad.” He gestured towards the tv, “I haven’t watched The Price is Right in a long time.” You hummed in response. 

“When do they think you’ll be out of here?” Eric shrugged,

“End of the week maybe,” He looked at you softly, “I was thinking,” Your heart skipped in your chest, “Maybe they need some extra help? I was a Master Sergeant in the marines. I’ve done tactical work. Strategy.” Oh. You weren’t expecting that.

“I’m sure you can talk to Sam about it.” You offered. “He’s in charge of all that stuff.” You picked a fuzz ball off your leggings. 

Eric nodded, “I just wanna help find the guys who did this. Whoever is after you.” His warm hand enveloped yours, thumb rubbing soothingly. “It’s not fair…” He said softly, “The hand you’ve been dealt.” Your other hand gently lay over his, heart thrumming,

“It’s more than I expected honestly.” You shrugged, “I never thought I would live this long.”

“It’s weird being here, right?” You asked. The hot breezes here in Wakanda made sweat drip down the back of your neck. It was warm here, warmer than where you just were. Bucky sat across from you, staring out into the lake in front of his hut. 

“Yeah,” His gruff voice was scratchy, fingers picking at blades of grass. His eyes met yours, “I never thought I’d live this long.” You nodded.

“Neither did I pal,” the sun was setting over the horizon, “Thought we’d go home after the war.” You cleared your throat, “Settle down somewhere close, marry some dames,” Your throat felt tight, “Have kids.” Bucky nodded.

“It feels like so long ago.” It was. It was so long ago. Bucky has just come back out of the ice last week. A small hydra cell that Steve, Sam, and Natasha had taken out just before receiving the call that Bucky was awake. And asking for him. You. Your heart fluttered at the thought. 

You missed him.

“Things are different now, Buck.” You felt him tense next to you. Words unspoken. Your heart aching. “Just another obstacle to get through.” Bucky shook his head, laughing darkly.

“The obstacle of me murdering innocent people you mean.” You sighed heavily, shaking your head.

“It wasn’t—“

“It was.” Bucky stopped you. “It was me.” His fist clenched on the few blades of grass in his hand. “I did it. I did all of it. Whether I was in control or not their blood is still on my hands.” The guilt. The feeling of, I should have gone back for him. I should have went to retrieve his body. It sat heavily in your gut. 

“Bucky,” Your voice came out as a whisper, hand coming to rest on your friend’s shoulder, “You were a gun. Hydra made you that way, but you’re not that person. You’ve never—“

He scoffed at you, shrugging your hand from his shoulder, “I killed people before Hydra.” Standing to leave, “I killed Germans all over fucking Europe. Who knows if they really believed in what they were doing or—or if they were just dumb kids like us?” He ran his fingers through his long tangled hair, “I kept your hands clean Steve.” His eyes watery, “I kept your hands clean.”

A soft jostle and you were back, sickening guilt in your gut. “Hey,” Eric looked concerned. “Are you okay? You kinda just… your eyes rolled back in your head.” You had a headache. 

“Yeah,” You breathed, “Just a memory.” Eric frowned, 

“What was it about?” You shake your head, 

“It doesn’t matter.” You stood from the chair, “I need to go lay down for a bit. I’ll be back later.” Eric sat back in his bed, studying you for a minute.

“You can talk to me, you know that right?” His voice calm. You nodded, 

“I’m gonna go take a nap.” The second you closed the door tears started rolling down your cheeks. The fucking guilt. Jesus the guilt. You’d felt it before. Every time you looked at the people Steve left behind you felt guilt, but this pit of despair in your stomach was making you nauseous. 

You had to find Sam. 

-

The Joint Counter Terrorist Center was in Europe. It had taken a few hours by jet to arrive but Sharon remembered it from where Zemo had first interviewed Barnes. Where he’d pulled the pin on the Avengers. He sat in a glass cell in a lower floor. Four guards stationed around at all times. They worked on four hour shifts staggered so once an hour a guard would be replaced. 

Even if you could figure out how to get out of the cell you’d have to get past four guards, get through six floors of high level clearance and make it off the grounds without being seen. 

“It should be impossible.” Sharon stated, “He shouldn’t be able to get out of here.” There were five camera angles, one on each side of the box and one giving an aerial view. Wanda examined them closely, looking from one screen to the next watching Zemo sitting on his bed watching the small television he’d been allowed. 

“I saw him,” Wanda said, “He told them where Y/N frequents and that he wanted her alive and unharmed.” Sharon looked at her friend, 

“Unharmed?” She asked. 

Wanda nodded, “Unharmed.” Zemo’s eyes shifted, looking directly at the camera Wanda had been looking into. A chill went down her spine. 

“Ready to go down?” Sharon started towards the elevator. Wanda nodded slowly, walking backwards to the elevator before the two took the six floors down to the containment area. 

The air was cold in here. Meant to make him slightly uncomfortable. No one really cared about convicted terrorist’s comfort. He sat idly in his cell, a Sokovian game show playing on the small tv. He didn’t look up when they entered. 

“It’s not often I’m given the pleasure of company,” He smirked, “Especially not two beautiful women.” 

Wanda felt uncomfortable in his presence. Her skin crawled. 

“Cut the shit Zemo.” Sharon’s authoritative voice spoke, “I’m sure you know why we are here.” Zemo’s eyes drug themselves from the screen, meeting hers. Smiling.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Wanda rolled her eyes, crossing her arms against the cold, or maybe to feel more distance between herself and Zemo. Red tendrils curling around her finger tips. 

“What do you want her for?” Sharon didn’t need to say who. The three of them knew who they were talking about. Zemo didn’t answer. Wanda reaches out to him, it looked like red smoke, billowing from her fingertips, entering through the quarter inch holes in the glass to curl around Zemo’s head. His devilish eyes grinning back at her as she searched. 

Her eyes widened and she hastily spoke, “It’s not him.” Zemo was gone. The man, whoever he was, laughed from behind the glass. The nanoskin he was wearing shifted as he pulled it from his face. The guards standing in the corners of the room pulled their guns, but not on the Zemo impersonator. On Sharon and Wanda.

-

“Hey,” You knocked gently on the office door. Sam looked up from the multiple screens he had in front of him. A man you knew as Scott Lang sitting at a desk adjacent with the same amount of screens. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” You shifted nervously. 

“Scott, you can take this for a minute?” Sam looked to his partner. Scott nodded, 

“Sure thing.” You could see a little black piece of tech sitting in Sam’s ear as he stepped into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” He asked, hands coming to rest on your arms. You sighed heavily, eyes still watering.

“I just had another memory.” You whispered, “I’m just left with all this guilt.” Your head was pounding. “I don’t know what to do with it.” Sam nodded, understanding. 

“Steve’s guilt?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, “I just—I don’t know how to not feel this.” You placed a hand over your heart. “It just hurts.” You shrugged dismissively, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you with this.” 

“You’re not bothering me with anything Y/N.” Sam sighed, “Listen, I’m not going to pretend like I have any clue what you’re going through but I know Steve—I knew Steve and he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.” Sam’s hands rubbed your arms comfortingly, “This guilt that you’re feeling he carried around with him wherever he went and I’m sorry that you’re burdened with this, but it’s good you’re willing to talk about it.” You wiped under your eye, “Go rest for a bit, maybe take a bath—“

“Cap.” The office door wretched back open, Scott’s panicked face on the other side. “We’ve lost contact with Sharon and Wanda.” You felt your heart stop as you looked back up at Sam. His face having gone serious. 

“Sam, where were they?” You asked, placing a hand on his arm. 

He wouldn’t look at you as he reentered the office, walking around to the computer screens where you could now see half of New York. A couple keystrokes and it shifted to a cell. A cell containing a man sitting and watching a small tv. “Is that Zemo?” You looked at the men for answers. Sam wouldn’t look you in the eye.

“Y/N please go to your room.” His stern voice, his Captain voice. You bristled with anger.

“What the fuck does Zemo have to do with this?” You remembered Zemo. Of course you remembered Zemo. Your memory would remind you of a news report. Steve’s memory however, reminded you of the vicious fight. The torn friendship. The guilt. The fucking guilt. Sam looked up at you from the screen.

“You don’t have clearance for this,” Sam’s eyes were apologetic but his voice still tough, “Go to your room.” You hated this. You really did. In a split second your brain decided for you, just go. Obey orders. That’s what Steve would do. You could do research in your own time. After all, you had Steve’s memories which means you had a lot of passwords too. 

That’s what Steve would do too.

 .

.

.

taglist //  @nutellakirb​ @witch-of-letters​ @torntaltos​ @emotionallysalty​ @an-lover​ @albinotigerpython​  @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​ @the-soulofthedevil

[thethirdwheel404]

Med Series Rewatch (#12)

S3 E12: Born This Way.

Episode description: Dr. Manning and Dr. Choi are faced with a tough decision.

Literally when are they not.

Okay, last episode ended with the first Ava/Connor kiss, so this episode should be a rollercoaster of emotions.

let’s get into it.

- okay, already we’re starting in connor’s apartment, so cue ava walking in bc they slept together?

- i think its hilarious that her casual clothing is.. a flannel. like lmao idk

- it is so unbelievably funny and stupid to have a one night stand with someone you work closely with. i mean come on

- never forget that dr. ava bekker has a fish tank

- this is exhausting. the tentative back and forth is so fucking exhausting

- another bit of evidence. ava is never not confident, and especially not to this extent, and she never follows connor’s lead. so, the fact that she is standing back and waiting for him to make the decision? stupid.

- it screams that she is having a moment of anxiety, which is why she isn’t up to make the decisions in the exchange.

-to be clear: what i’m claiming here is that the only reason ava actually got with connor was bc she was having a moment of anxiety because he was the only person she had built a relationship with after living in this city for six months.

- when connor says that he has plans you can see her fold in on herself. this stems from a place of anxiety

- remember when they did surgery on the panda? that’s when the show peaked

- ava in her lab coat will never not get me. especially with the gloves, running towards a patient (very hot)

- connor still looks kinda looks like a mess but ava is immaculate here like what dude out of your league

- ava asking the family questions (ik this is standard doctor stuff but showing worry, interest, all that jazz)

- okay, see here! here! ava calls connor out, saying that his procedure is too invasive. before, ava’s procedures where invasive, which everyone used as evidence to her being super cold, but now, we see that she purely does what she deems best for the patient at hand

- also, once again, the concern ava feels. you can hear it in her voice. we forget this part of her way too often

- the smile on ava’s face when she gives the family good news. god wept

- and then more concern when connor tells her they need to put him on ecmo

- the reason that ava is frustrated that connor didn’t go with her decision for their patient care is because she truly believes that if they don’t go with her treatment, he will die. don’t make it anything different. don’t argue she’s frustrated because he’s not listening to her. don’t make it anything about their relationship. she puts their patients care first and foremost

- there’s a stark shift in her demeanor when in the room with the parents vs. her alone with connor. in the room, you can see she’s stewing. she’s sucking on her teeth, she’s holding her emotions. she has control, she’s a professional. out of the room, she has full reign to be as mad with connor as she wants, which she does.

-AVA RAN INTO THE ROOM AGAIN WITH THE LAB COAT AND GLOVES AND IDK IT JUST HAS ME FEELING SOME KINDA WAY

- the way ava acknowledges everyone in the room (the nurse just informed them that the drug was running, ava nodded. just a little thing but yk)

- ava shaking her head at this sad, sad man (connor, who is floundering for a solution and misplacing his anger)

- their entire relationship is misplaced anger

- the fact that the last shot of the scene has connor in the foreground looking over the bed and ava watching from the door but ava is the one in focus - some cool cinematography points

- IS THIS THE EPISODE WHERE MAGGIE GOES TO JAIL

- med really went all over the place

- JUST THE AMOUNT OF CONCERN ON AVA’S FACE. im gonna say it again. look me in the eyes and tell this women is a psychopath. the med writers are fucking insane

- and when the parents ask ava if she disagreed with connor’s treatment decision, she has every opportunity (and right, frankly) to throw him under the bus and undermine him. but still, she says “it’s a complicated situation.” like. she never ever makes it personal, or loses her head. especially not to a patient. and she doesn’t have to defend connor. he’s made a lot of mistakes, and taken it out on her a bunch of times. yet she’s still nice to him, when he’s not even in the room

- it’s insane

- this is also the legendary scene where she comforts the family. there’s not a lot that i haven’t already said. this is the scene that most exemplifies ava’s humanity, the way she seems to feel, at least residually, what these parents are going through (since she obviously hasn’t gone through anything like this herself [unless.]). the way she kneels down, and gets on the family’s personal level.

- I... okay listen. I absolutely HATE the parallel they pull her between the line “I believe whenever you do something out of love, it can never really be wrong” and connor. especially because they show him when she says that line. and yeah, there’s obviously a connection that can be drawn between the meaning of that line and her sociopathic behavior in s4 and s5.

- it honestly feels like when writing s4, the writers hit so much of a wall they just googled the most ‘iconic’ ava moments and thought ‘how can i use these in the worst way possible?’ That’s honestly probably what they did (ava’s first interaction with connor - ‘you better watch yourself,’ this moment). There is no nuance to her character in s4. it is astoundingly terrible.

- lets move on

- THE WAY CONNOR LOOKS AT AVA HER MAKES ME FUCKING SCARED. HE HAS NO EMOTION ON HIS FACE. I know that we’ve been screen capping ava throughout this series but can someone find pictures of connor looking at ava bc, i need yall to remember how weird he looks

- like, no shade to connor, but just the emotion is undecipherable, but it is in no way a good one

- ava getting concerned (and looking slightly embarrassed) when she sees connor watching her by the door. obviously yeah she’s gonna feel weird you just caught her in a very uncharacteristic moment, outwardly expressing comfort. fucking back off

- i am so fucking protective of her and i demand he no longer look at her. it’s banned

- sam abrams looking at sarah’s dad’s head ct and asking if he’s a criminal. oh boy 

- from a writer’s perspective, the storyline with sarah’s dad is actually pretty good

- ava ran into the room with gloves and lab coat again, if anybody wanted to know

- for the record, want it to be noted, ava was the one who realized that it was an issue with the machine again, so you could say she fixed connor’s mistake, again. so.

- connor making a big deal about handing the reins over to ava (if he really was selfless he wouldn’t have made a whole big thing, he still has an enormous hero complex)

- handing off control was very hard for him. boo hoo get some fucking humility I think they sell it at walgreens

- sarah fucking walking across the ed like she’s going to war. dramatic

- med really said pedophiles deserve rights with this ep huh

- anyway

- the way ava smiles

- the way she smiles when she turns him down. CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT? SHE TURNED HIM DOWN. in the aspect of the story i cannot remember why she turned him down, but hey, i’m happy

- and it only further proves my story that the hook up came from a place of anxiety, and this is her realizing how silly that decision was. and her smiling was her laughing at herself for making such a stupid decision

- ALSO. LET’S TALK ABOUT THE FACT THAT THIS DECISION, THE DECISION TO TURN HIM DOWN, HAPPENED IN THE SAME EPISODE WHERE SHE SAID ‘IF YOU DO SOMETHING FOR LOVE, IT’S NEVER REALLY WRONG’

- like she literally says ‘last night was a mistake.’

- honestly, it’s fucking hilarious. connor deserves nothing

- and the confusion on his face when she walks away. hilarious

- if you wanted to take this the reesker route you could argue that the idea of ‘a decision of love’ was ava coming to terms with her slight little crush, though i don’t know how clean it would be if you argue that she panicked and told herself those were feelings meant for connor. idk, i’ll have to think about it further

- watching sarah let herself be betrayed by both herself and the people around in the story surrounding her dad will never not be hard to watch

This was a very good episode, character wise, for all the reasons stated above. It just hammers home the point of how strong a character Ava was. Key word, of course, being ‘was’. My conclusion over the last two episodes is that this specific sexual encounter with Connor was born out of a moment of anxiety from Ava. I suggest that over that last few weeks or days she has been experiencing some amount of anxiety out of having been living in Chicago for six months and only having one interpersonal relationship. So, that idea kind of built where she told herself the reason she only had one relationship was because she was in love with him. Then. after going through the story with this kid and comforting his parents, she realizes that she never actually loved Connor and maybe has a thing for someone else. I’m glad that I keep coming up with more ideas for this character, I was afraid the initial theory was somewhat of a one-off, but this only proves the idea of the complexity to Ava’s character.

I’m sure it’ll get worse from here, though.

as always, thanks for sticking through

-

read the rest here:

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Extra

[cdg174]

Call me Jane Doe: Chapter Twenty-Two

Series summary:  A young girl with many secrets and special abilities seeks out Sam and Dean on one of their hunts. For what you may ask? Help of all things but even though she needs them, she takes her time telling them what she wants and what she is. Y/N wants them to trust her before she does the same for them, because if she has learned anything, it’s that when you become attached to something it will only rip your heart out later.

Author’s note: This chapter links with the last one for the most part. Just to be on the safe side though, you’ll want to re-read the last few chapters over or the entire series because I haven’t posted in a very long time.

WARNING: Character death and suicide.

Words: 3060

Masterlist

“There was a time you would have done anything for me. I can’t remember the last time you even smiled at me, or hugged me and that you meant all good things. It must have been years ago because it’s at the point where the memory of all that good, all that love, it has all disappeared. So I don’t understand why I even bother visiting you anymore because if you were able to, right now, you would kill me. I’d be dead. So tell me why I keep coming back to you. Why? Just tell me why?”

...................................................................

Three weeks earlier, The Bunker…

Jane’s pov.

“If you were expecting my eyes to change colour again, you must all be very disappointed right now.”

If the air of the war room wasn’t so tense, someone aside from Crowley would have laughed. No such luck though.

Everyone in the room pauses. All of them become rigid as statues at the sight of me. I can’t blame them. I may not have seen my battered and bloody state but they all did.

I take my eyes away from the newcomer in the bunker. I don’t know Flora; she is unreadable in all ways. Even with this uncertainty, I just wanted to prevent any more conflict and blood being spilled. So my previous statement about Flora was merely a verbal way of calling a temporary truce between all those in the here.

I observe everyone else now.

Sam just looks at me with a pained expression. His ever changing eyes seem horrified, as they did when he saw my mangled form earlier this day. I nod an okay to him, Sam needs reassurance most.

Dean on the other hand, he looks ashamed. Not of me but himself. The hunter must be most discouraged with himself when he was unable to save me from torture. I know the truth though; nothing could have stopped Mallory from hurting me. My mother was unstoppable.

The sheriff has slowly and timidly made her way to my side. Jody is but feet away from me now, wanting to be ready to defend me or catch me if need be. She inches no closer; Jody respects my confident stance enough to halt her own.

Crowley just smiles at me. It’s an actual smile, one of joy and pride. This is a rare occurrence from someone who claims to be evil. His hands stay in his pants pockets but if I know Crowley, he’s flipping a mental coin to see who breaks the quiet first.

“Jane…”

I’m pulled out of my perception of the war room by the crumbling voice of Castiel. His tone is raw sounding and hoarse as sand paper.

It is at this time that I see my angel friend for the first time. My breath freezes in my lungs.

Walking is forgotten in my mind and in a millisecond I am kneeling in front of Castiel.

I can feel everyone in the room take a moment to collect themselves. Despite the fact that I touched no one in my motions, the speed in which I teleported must have given everyone whiplash.

No matter, my attention is on the tousled remains of Castiel slumping in the chair before my eyes.

It is at this time that I realize I have not been seeing all the souls in the room. Earlier I was watching Jody’s soul dance with itself in bliss. Later on I had nearly cried at the sight of my chained up mother’s havoc swirling darkness.

Now I see nothing, until I close my eyes facing the wreckage that is Castiel.

The soul casts extreme blinding light but not for me. I see through to its core and I feel awe overtake me.

At the center of Castiel’s being are all-powerful palms of hands shielding what seems to be a globe. Fingers cascade over the world’s every surface, in a hope to hold it together. Constantly healing but never fully recovering or succeeding.

It’s all exquisite, simply alluring.

I find my left arm being pulled toward Castiel’s chest. My hand places itself ever so delicately over his bloody clothed heart. I can feel it beating just barely through his skin. The thought of my friend like this brings water to my eyes.

I don’t want to see Castiel in such pain and so I imagine him well. No cuts upon his face, no broken bones or swelling bruises. I imagine the angel easily laughing and speaking with no rasp in his voice. Just Castiel as I first saw him with no blood or torn clothing. All scars missing and standing tall, perfectly alright.

...................................................................

Present time …

My phone rings from its place on the passenger seat next to me.

I already know it’s one of the boys.

Maybe it’s Crowley, wanting to know if I’d like to go for lunch.

My thoughts continue to wander about the ringing cell phone as I drive along the highway. It’s about 10AM now. The phone goes off many times throughout every day but I just let it ring.

If it’s Sam calling, he will just be asking if I’m alright and updating me on how everyone else is.

If I go back to the bunker for anything, it would be to tell Sam to go to sleep. He only rings me between 2 and 6AM.

When Dean calls, he always starts by trying to convince me to come back home for a game night. When really he’s just trying to track my phone to find where I am.

Since I’ve stopped picking up calls, Dean can no longer track my whereabouts.

Castiel is different though, he’s only tried to get a hold of me a few times in the past weeks. I’m pretty sure he’s out and about looking for me.

How do I know all of this? I listen to all the voicemails they leave.

It can’t be Jody calling because she just texts me now. The sheriff gave up calling after a few days. She’ll start by saying how worried the Winchesters are about me and finish by asking if I need anything. I always respond to Jody the same way.

“I don’t need anything, thanks for asking” and that’s all.

I never answer any phone calls because I have nothing to say to anyone. Not a damn thing.

I’m not heartless though.

Texting is how I let the boys know I’m still alive.

I’ll just send them each the same thing every day.

“I’m still breathing, just not speaking at the moment.”

Just like that, each morning and every night. I may be absent minded towards the boys but I am not cruel.  

“Jane you’re going to have to answer that noisy thing sometime. Or at least have the decency to turn the sound off.”

I jump as Flora’s voice comes from the back seat. I peek at her in the rear-view mirror before quickly silencing my phone still ringing away on passenger side.

“Sorry.” I smile shyly back at the angel who now rises from lying down.

“It’s fine. So where are we off to now?” Flora stretches her arms above her head in question.

“We’re going to visit her.” When I speak I look straight ahead at the speeding pavement.

“Alright, how far off are we?” Flora understands what I mean immediately.

“Five hours.”

I smile at the groan I receive in response.

“It’d be a lot faster if you just teleported us there.” I watch Flora cross her arms in the mirror, a pout upon her lips.

“I know, I know but driving helps me relax in the meantime.”

Flora complains no further, she’s aware about how painful where we’re going is for me.

Five more hours.

...................................................................

Three weeks earlier, The Bunker…

“We could just keep her locked up for a while.”

Dean stares at his brother in disbelief.

“Keep her locked up here? Sam you nearly killed her today just at her first words to you.” The eldest Winchester scoffs out. “You of all people nearly killed a human. Mallory is too agitating for even you, one of the most level headed people here. That’s saying something.”

Jody buts in.

“Dean’s right.” The library occupants now focus on the sheriff. “I could take her and hold in one of the jails. I mean just until we figure out what to do with her. None of you will be able to tolerate Mallory long here anyway.”

The sheriff nods this more toward me because she knows I’m the only one Mallory was here for in the first place. If my mom were to escape somehow, she’d go straight for me. No doubt about it.

“Or the more secure possibility would be hell.”

All heads turn toward Crowley who sits comfortably in one of the library chairs. Poise is the king.

“What?” It’s Flora who speaks up.

Everyone has left her be since I stood for her. At the moment she actually leans on the wall next to me.

I look to the new angel in curiosity. Even though I know that she is some centuries old, her vessel looks very young. She seems maybe mid twenties. She’s very pretty which is a word I don’t use often at all. This being because I haven’t had the time to think about descriptions. Flora however…

I find that she emanates beauty.

All of her features complement each other. Flora’s florescent gold eyes seem to reflect off her eyelashes, making her actual eyes look like deer’s pearls. The nose on her face isn’t straight but curved just so that it makes her full tan lips stand out. The roots of Flora’s hair start out black and flow out to brown at her shoulder length tips. Her skin a mere few shades away from being a dark oak.

As I am looking over Flora, I miss the argument that breaks out. Something about Crowley’s suggestion and the Winchesters disagreeing with him.

“Let Jane decide what becomes of Mallory.” Castiel walks into the library wearing a fresh non bloody suit.

After I healed Cas he went to change from his disgustingly crusty apparel. He doesn’t sport his usual trench coat. It must be in the wash still or completely trashed.

“Yes. Good idea brother.” Flora stands up to her full height, which isn’t much, in agreement. “After all it is her mother. Jane of everyone here has more right of choosing Mallory’s fate.”

I think this is Flora’s way of proving her loyalty to us, more so to me. She must realize how enormous our next decisions are. All though Mallory’s actions were monstrous, she is still a human and my mother.

I feel all eyes on me now. The word eye has now lost all meaning to me in their history in my life.

I continue to study Flora and appreciate her interest in the matter at hand as I respond to the question hanging in the air.

“I want to give Mallory a second chance to live the life she wants.” I stare at the listening faces of the room. “I want to erase my mother’s memory of me and all things supernatural.”

  ...................................................................

Present time…

“I’m sorry Jane. I am so sorry.”

I am embraced by Flora through the open driver’s side door of our vehicle.

If the boys were to see how close the angel and I have gotten over the weeks, they might lose their minds.

Flora has stuck by me in ways the Winchesters, Castiel and Crowley never could. The bond between us is even different from Jody’s relationship with me. Just as strong, but nowhere near motherly like the sheriff.

I am currently in ruins over the visit I am to have with someone who is only a short walk from us.

“We don’t have to do this today. We can stay in town tonight and come back in the morning.” Flora’s hand smooths over my head in hopes to diminish my sorrow.

I don’t wish to break from the angel’s calming embrace so I simply speak into the hug.

“This is the last time I come back here. It has to be today.”

The howls that escape my throat cause Flora to pull me into her more.

“It has to be today.” My whisper is as broken as my heart.

...................................................................

Three weeks earlier, The Bunker…

I peer at my dark sneakers as they move in a trance down the bright bunker halls. The black shoelace ends slither on the shoes fabric in slow motion. My breathing is pummeling against my lung walls, in dread of my path to the dungeon.

I barely hear Flora’s voice next to my ear.

“Slow down Jane, you’re going to trip over your own two feet.”

I feel a hand tug on my elbow, in an attempt to halt my panicked rushing. Enough of a pull to have me turn and look directly into the gems that are Flora’s eyes staring into my own violet ones.

“You’re about to hyperventilate Jane. Wait a second and breathe for a moment.” As soothing as the angel speaks and as welcoming as her eyes are, I have to continue.

I gently leave Flora’s grasp and stare at her still.

“It has to be now.” I force my gaze away from hers and resume forward. “It has to be before I change my mind.”

I force my stiff legs to carry me toward the dungeon where I am to erase Mallory’s memory of being a mother to me. All her memory of all inhuman beings will be nonexistent.

I am unaware of my fingers twisting the dungeon door open or my head rising to see my mother already standing and free from her bonds.

“How did you get out?” It’s Dean acknowledging Mallory’s sudden escape.

I hadn’t known about him following behind Flora and me.

“It doesn’t matter.” Mallory races toward Dean, who squeezed through the door and stands beside me.

I never knew how fast my mother was on her feet because in no time she has snatched a pistol from the eldest Winchester. Dean was pushed down to the floor in her antics and soon she points the barrel of the weapon at me once more.

I raise my hands in an unneeded defence.

“Mom it’s alright. We’re not here to hurt you.”

I pass the words effortlessly out between my lips seeing as this is the last time I will be able to call her that.

She hesitates briefly before lowering the weapon.

“I am here to give you one last chance at life because I love you.” I whisper in truth.

<WARNING>

“I believe you.” Then Mallory raises the weapon to her own temple. “But I still know when I’ve lost. Goodbye baby.”

The gun goes off.

My eyes clench as mom’s soul flourishes into death.

Ignoring every aspect of life around my own, I sink to my mother’s non-breathing side. My arms move on their own accord beneath her limp back and pull her body into my own. I feel the pulse leave from beneath her skin and fade into the nothing. If it weren’t for the blood running into her dishevelled hair from the bullet’s path, Mallory could look as though she were just asleep. The paler my mother’s face becomes, the more I shiver.

I don’t realize that I’m trying to shake her awake until my hand carries her lolling head. I feel the red travel to my finger tips as I brush hair off Mallory’s face. I bend my head down to my mother’s forehead and speak.

“I love you mama.”

A weight rests upon my trembling shoulder and I desperately look up into Flora’s gloomy eyes.

I had no clue how wrecked a soul could become until I disappeared from the bunker with my dead mother carried in my grasp.

The only light in that moment was an angel named Flora following close behind me due my quick exit.

<WARNING ENDS>

...................................................................

Present time…

“Happy birthday mama.”

I perch glumly at the grave stone of the lady once named Mallory.

I stare at the name of a woman who gave birth to a cambion and loved the creature anyway. This woman sacrificed all for a baby she never wanted and became hated when she tried taking her life back.

“I don’t know why I’m bringing you flowers mom. You’re allergic to pretty much every kind.” I glare reluctantly at the lilies in my hold, droplets cascading down my cheeks. “I just thought they were lovely like you once were.”

I sink to the green grass where my mother’s feet would be.

There is a shivering crack in my voice.

“There was a time you would have done anything for me. I can’t remember the last time you even smiled at me, or hugged me and that you meant all good things. It must have been years ago because it’s at the point where the memory of all that good, all that love, it has all disappeared.  So I don’t understand why I even bother visiting you anymore because if you were able to, right now, you would kill me. I’d be dead. So tell me why I keep coming back to you. Why? Just tell me why?”

I know full well that Mallory has no life to respond and so I drop the bouquet of lilies at her headstone before standing to my numb feet.

I take in the gravelly stone of my mother’s final existence before spinning my toes away from her. I tilt my stare at my mother’s name for the final time.

“Goodbye mom. I love you.”

The pads of my flats teeter their way in the direction of the parking lot.

I remember nothing of the journey back to the pavement where my vehicle is parked still.

“Jane?”

The sockets of my eyes are agitated with salty tears that look to the gold eyed beauty that is Flora. The angel who has been on this three week trip with me is resting on the hood of our vehicle. Flora shows nothing but support in her entire expression.

“I think it’s about time we head home Flora.” A smile dawns on my lips for the first moment in 21 days. “I need to go home.”

..............................................................

Special mentions (tags open) :

@arazialotis @goldenolaf25 @when-innocence-is-gone@fallen-castielx@anothertimeinspace @flare-chan003 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @imnotalosechester @mary-meee  @jsamstar @driadgoch @vvinch3st3r@kayarisa @misguidedconqueress @heeeeeether @breathexxinxxthexxflames@tuckyouinwarmwithin  @simirachel @supernatural-fangirl13 @lilypalmer1987@beatlesobsessionlove @ultracleverthing @possesstiel @anamarieswift2194@mlechercat @elyraelyn @caratala @theotherlostgirl  @dandycandy75 @the-imaginarium-of-life@trilloku-blog @fandomking221b @stephisapotatoe @5sos-wdw@jadepc @spngeronimo @eemeile @imjustabloger @dixonsunicorn@mcdaring @silvermisthunter @roco-m-pie @mutedwerido @purplesandwichtiger  @deanmonwithwings24 @secretkittenhideout@whaticameheretosay @rls905 @msimpala67  @littlesupernaturalwords@spnsoap @hp-hogwartsexpress @d3stiny13-blog​ @darknzz-incarnate @marshmallow-world  @youtube-starkid​  @bluebear2232  @hstott@cosmoetik

[studentville-struggles]

The Law of Wind

Inspired by this post on @hgk477  

Platonic!Tony x reader, a smidge of Loki x reader

Summary: The God of Lies spots yours, could this possibly end well?

Words: 2,023

Being friends with the Avengers was easy, lying about yourself in order to maintain said friendship was not.  

You had met Tony in the waiting room of your therapist's office. Now normally the waiting rooms were incredibly quiet and being Iron Man, world superhero, as well as Tony Stark, global superstar and millionaire, you figured he probably had things set up so he could go straight through to an office, rather than wait and deal with people staring or even asking questions. That day, however, both therapists were running incredibly behind schedule and he was patiently waiting in the waiting room next to you. After a half hour or so, he struck up a conversation with you, trying to calm the nerves of waiting for so long. They may try and make waiting rooms calming, but opening up your life to some random person for an hour a week wasn’t exactly an experience you looked forward to. 

 After that day, you saw Tony around the waiting room a little more often, your friendship pretty limited to comments such as "Distraction plan for today?” and “Thought I’d read some Iron Man erotic fan fiction, see what she thinks of it?” before heading to your respective sessions, the just so happened to be scheduled for the same times.

After a couple of months of this generic small talk and joking around, you started going for coffee, enjoying the mutual understanding of not always wanting to talk but the company can be nice, especially after a heavy therapy session. Who knew having a therapy neighbour would be such a good thing?  

Eventually, he introduced you to the rest of the avenger's lot, having become close enough friends with Tony that he trusted you among everyone. Whilst they welcomed you with open arms, there was still an element of wariness, which you couldn’t blame them for. As the weeks went by, you grew closer to them, joining them for movie nights, or occasionally showing face at one of Tony’s parties. You even had them over for dinner one night, somehow all squeezing into your small apartment. You didn’t always know when they were away on missions, but the times you did, you couldn’t help but worry. On quiet evenings you could be found, sat on your balcony, whispering your worries and hopes for them into the night, you felt better knowing you had at least done something.

It wasn’t until they had Loki move in at the tower that your lie, which you argued wasn’t really a lie, it was more of an omission, started to catch up with you. You had just been introduced to him one movie night, a strange look flashed across his face, but like the master of disguise he is, it was covered so quickly, you barely recognised it was there. Shortly after, Sam came wandering in complaining about how it was so windy outside that he kept getting blown off course on his little night flying exercise. Whilst everyone was messing with him, telling him it wasn’t the wind and that he just can’t fly straight, or that his wings need fixing, you sat quietly shaking your head. Something Loki picked up on.

“I think our guest disagrees with you all” Attention is certainly not what you were asking for in this situation.  

“No, no, ignore me.” For once, please, you thought to yourself.

“Nah Y/N, please add an insult to Sam’s already damaged ego.” Bucky said, always happy to bicker with Sam.

“Or come to my defence, Loki did say she was disagreeing with you.” Sam added, the last part clearly aimed at Bucky.  

You shook your head, this time hoping you don’t have to say something.  

“Y/N please, what were you going to say, or what were you thinking?” You always found it hard to say no to Tony.  

“Just that everyone knows you shouldn’t get in the way when the wind is howling.” Please just think I’m weird, please don’t push it. Even if I am saying something that is basic law of wind.

Everyone was staring with a confused look on their faces, everyone but Loki that is. Loki was smirking, happy that his suspicions, currently, seemed to be true.  

“Why? None of us knew that so do enlighten us.” Sassy Bucky was both terrifying and attractive.  

“The ghosts are passing through, you should always leave them be, lest you aggravate them.” Again, blanks stares.  

Natasha was the first to speak. “Cute story.” She was curt but left it be, which you were thankful for, hopefully the conversation would soon move on. Unfortunately, there was no such luck for you.

“It’s not a story you know.” You stared at him, panic all over your face, questioning why of all times, he had to speak up now?

“Pardon?” Tony was the confused one now. Loki wasn’t paying him any attention now though. He moved and sat on the coffee table directly in front of you.  

“What else do you know about the wind?” He asked, wanting to further confirm his suspicions.

“Not much” You muttered quietly, really wishing they would all move on from this. You looked to Tony for help, feeling very uncomfortable with where this was headed. You couldn’t help but feel that Loki knew.

“Alright Reindeer Games, that’s enough leaver Y/N alone.” Tony said, coming to your rescue.

“No.” Loki responded flatly. “If my suspicions are correct, I have been waiting hundreds of years to meet someone like her.” Well, you thought, this definitely isn’t going to end well.  

The room was silent now, Loki’s statement shocking and confusing everyone else in the room. Loki himself hadn’t stopped looking at you the entire time.  

“Tell me.” He said slowly.

“Tell you what?” You whispered quietly. You could feel the frustration in him rising, Wanda, whispered to Tony, telling him he may want to move back a bit.  

“Tell me.” Loki repeated an edge in his voice this time.  

“I don’t kn-” Before you could even finish, Loki stood abruptly, his legs pushing the coffee table back as he did so.  

“You know damn well what I want you to say!” He shouted down at you, is frustration starting to bubble at the surface. Tony stepped forward to intervene, still not sure why Loki was being so rude, but before he could say anything, your emotions got the better of you, you blamed it on having someone with Loki’s magic so close.

“Leave it!” You shouted back, the emotion in your voice being matched by your energy, the windows in the room shattering at the sudden energy pulse. You turned running to the door to leave, realising what had happened.  

Loki wouldn’t let that happen though, grabbing your arm to stop you as you neared the door. “Stay.” he said, loud enough that everyone could hear his words, but still soft enough to be calm. Your arm warmed significantly at his touch, you could feel his magic. “I did not mean to frighten you, I only wanted a response and you gave me that. I will not harm you, I give you my word.”  

You were still shaking with the sudden emotional outburst, Loki proximity and grasp on your arm not helping either. Fear was clear all over your face, guilt starting to replace it as Tony came over.  

“Y/N” Tony whispered, his voice full of disbelief. “What just happened? Why have you never said anything?” You could see tears in his eyes, you had been one of the very few people he had let in recently, and you had broken his trust.  

Before you could respond though, Steve placed a hand on Tony’s back, he was clearly in Captain America mode, the relaxed nature you saw early totally gone. 

 “I think we need to have a chat. Shall we head to a meeting room?” Steve asked rhetorically.

“There is no such need. The living room will suffice, you need not treat her like a threat.” Loki calmly responded, defending you having just aggravated you a mere minute earlier.  

Once everyone had settled back down again, Loki calmly waved towards the windows, the glass floating back into place in the windows at his command. Instead of the light-hearted atmosphere that had been present earlier in the evening, the feeling now was tense, Steve ready with his shield should you be deemed a threat needing to be detained.  

“So.” Steve started, a hard edge in his voice. “Y/N, Loki, who wants to explain what the hell is going on?”  

“She’s a child of Skaði and Njord.”  

“Why do those sound worryingly Asgardian?” Funny you should say that Steve.

“Skaði was Asgardian.”  

“Fantastic. So, she related to you then Loki, given you’re the God of lies and all.” Tony’s harsh words hurt more than he knew, silent tears ran down your cheeks.  

“No. Though we both have Asgardian and Jotun roots. You cannot blame her for not revealing her Goddess status. It is not in her to be so egotistical as to brag about it.”  

“Sure. What do you do then alien lady?” Tony twisted the knife once more.  

“Wind and nature, somewhat similar to my parents.” Finally, you spoke up, grateful for Loki’s defence against you.  

“If you are actually a Goddess, why have you been living on Earth for so long?” Steve asked, still unconvinced.  

“Have you seen the state of your beloved earth?” Loki snarked back.

Glancing at Loki, a small smile on your lips, you turn to Steve. “Sibling difficulties, I’m sure you understand having met both Loki and Thor. My issues surrounding predicting fortunes left them feeling a little too entitled, so I came here to work on myself and generally help sort a few things out here. I promise you I mean no harm here.”

“No alien armies coming to take over then?”

“None.” Steve seemed to be relatively relaxed by this.  

After a relatively long, somewhat awkward pause, Sam spoke up once more.

“So, uhh, what were you saying about the wind earlier?” You smiled in response, Loki laughed.  

“Might as well inform them of the Law of Wind Y/N.”

“Alright then, but take note.” At your word, Sam and Rhodey began scurrying around looking for pen and paper, before settling down once more, looking up at you expectantly.

To Loki, it was almost as though you revealed who you were really, you visibly relaxed and became almost ethereal. To Tony, it was as if you became someone new, you took on a new persona, so soft yet powerful, your fear and anxiety from earlier totally gone. He could feel himself relaxing just listening to you.

“I already said about howling winds, the ghosts are passing through and you should leave them be.” The boys nodded, writing it down anyway. You continued.  

“When storms arise, do not talk, listen to them. When winds are quiet, talk, she is listening. However, only tell her what is meaningful, and only whisper. She knows everything about you, you must never lie. She has a strong temperament, you should do well not to anger her. Do not complain about the wind, she will remember.” You laughed softly as Sam’s faced turned to one of worry, his mind thinking of his earlier comments. Others around couldn’t help but notice how your eyes shone brightly as you spoke, watching those around lean in, enchanted by your words.

“When autumn leaves are swirling, let her dance, although you may play the flute to her. Should she whisper in your ear, listen closely, her trust is a special honour and words travel far and fast. Phrase your responses so that they do not awake the spirits. Finally, a sudden draft is always a bad omen.”  

Leaning back in your seat, you watched the boys as they frantically scribbled down the last points, glad to point them in the right direction.  

Leaning over so the others couldn’t hear, Loki whispered in your ear. 

“I must say Y/N, after 800 years, it is a pleasure to finally met you.”  

He placed a soft kiss on your cheek before standing up and walking towards Steve once more.  

Masterlist

[flamehairedwritings]

Queen of the Night

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus-Size!Female Reader

Words: 3,111

Rating: M, 16+ ONLY

A/N: Hi, there. This has been written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan‘s Full Figured Fantasy Challenge with the prompt: ‘There is no wrong way to have a body’. 

It’s a very personal story so I hope you enjoy.

This story contains swearing and bad intrusive thoughts about your body.

Summary: At a Stark party, it’s up for debate who’s more uncomfortable; you or Steve Rogers.

EDIT: Read Part II here.

MASTERLIST

Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count. 

You should’ve known you’d regret it.

Yet you’d felt confident at the time.

Sexy, even, and that wasn’t something you often felt.

Oh my God, I look fucking amazing.

That had been two weeks ago when you were alone in your bedroom and the lighting had been warm and the mirror had been angled perfectly, as it always was.

Now, at Stark’s party, surrounded by bright lights, photographers and all the beautiful and elite of the city, you’re feeling very differently.

Why did I have to go with a fucking body-con.

The dress is gold, clings to you and stops just above your knees. You have no way of hiding and you so desperately want to. You can’t even leave; you’ve retreated to the furthest corner of the large room where’s it moderately quieter and where no members of the paparazzi are lurking. Even the thought of walking across the room, passing people, passing the photographers outside again, is making you sweat and your chest tighten; you have to keep switching the empty glass from one hand to the other so it won’t slip from your warm palms.

“Another one, ma’am?” 

Oh, fuck off.

The waitress has returned, a full glass on her tray. She’s giving you the same look as before which she probably thinks is coming off as kindly sympathetic but it’s just pitying. Sheer, fuck-off pitying. 

“Yes, thank you.” You smile politely, swapping your glass for the one she offers.

She gives the same chummy smile as before, then turns and leaves. 

You release a breath and take a long sip, your gaze flicking about the room. 

Everyone’s here tonight, all members of the Avengers, field agents and agents you work with in the offices, which should be comforting but is, in fact, the complete opposite.

You work with these people. You’ve all seen each other at your emotional best and worst. You’ve all seen each other without make-up, in sweats, greasy-haired, huge red spots on your faces, and no one bats an eyelid. 

So why is this different?

You know why. No one’s ever seen you in anything tighter than a pant suit.

Stop feeling like shit, it’s so ridiculous.

It’s not like they don’t know you’re fat, fuller figured, plus-sized, large, curvy, whatever word people want to use to define your body, it’s not like they don’t know. It’s not some great secret. It’s just different when you’re sat at your desk helping to save lives because that’s the sole focus.

Now, here, the focus is on each other. It’s a party; people go to parties to fuck, drink and dance. It’s the only chance you all get to relax a little and let go some what. The Avengers can’t, not at these things, they have to be ‘the face’ and act accordingly, but the agents can go relatively wild. You know they’ll all be gossiping about who fucked who tomorrow.

You wonder if they’ll gossip about you, too.

It won’t be cruel. You get on with everyone you work with; you’re never without a witty comment, you’re damn good at your job and you always bring baked goods in for Friday breakfast.  

It’ll be the same as the waitress, though. It’ll be pitying, grateful-it’s-not-them whispering about how brave you were to wear the dress, how proud they were that you did it. You’ve already had a few comments of ‘Yes, girl!’ and ‘Holy shit, look at you!’ from colleagues as you passed them to get to this safe corner, but it just sounded so false, too forced. Like they knew you needed the confidence boost.

Go home.

How, though? You’ve led high-risk missions on the other side of the world through an ear-piece and helped negotiate with one of the most temperamental crime lords in the world but you can’t walk across a damn room, order a damn cab and go home.

“Hey.”

Oh, thank fuck.

Turning at the quiet voice, you are welcomed by the sight of the only person in the room probably more uncomfortable than you; Steve Rogers.

And you’ve never felt more relieved.

“Hi,” you answer, matching his smile as he stands at your side, hands in his pockets and his eyes on the steadily escalating dance-off in the centre of the room; Agent Barton’s still winning.

“Not gonna show everyone how it’s done?”

“I will when you do.”

He exhales a laugh, one corner of his mouth rising higher than the other. “I’ll let you know when hell freezes over.” 

Silence falls as you sip your drink and he continues to watch his team members dance, Sam Wilson literally throwing his hat into the ring and becoming a strong contender for the winner, and it’s wonderfully comfortable.

You’ve collaborated with Steve on nearly every single one of his missions outside of the Avengers Initiative, and over that time an easy, what you dare to call friendship has formed, one born from the trust you’ve both earned from one another and the respect in your logical, like-minded way of thinking. You were also one of the few who didn’t lobby hard to collaborate with him when he joined SHIELD; sure, you’d made the application, same as everyone else because who wouldn’t want to work with Captain America, but you hadn’t gone out of your way to ‘bump’ into him during training or sent him a hand-written, 13 page letter detailing how he had inspired you to become an agent. 

You were nervous before your final interview, having made it to the last three applicants, but you knew you wouldn’t think it the end of the world if you didn’t get the job. Then you’d entered the room and found you’d be having a one-to-one interview with Captain Steve Rogers.

You’d never spoken to him before, only seen him in halls and meetings, and as he rose from his chair and shook your hand, you’d tried very hard to ignore the fact you were shaking hands with a living legend and icon. Albeit a tired but very polite living legend and icon.

He didn’t want to be there but you weren’t offended; this wasn’t how he was used to doing things. He was used to being given information, being dropped into the mission zone and figuring out for himself how best to work through it. He probably wasn’t thrilled at the notion of having someone with less experience in his ear giving him updates every few minutes, making sure he ticked boxes and advising what would be best to do.

In fact, you’d told him that. That had been your opening introduction. You had no idea where it had come from. You weren’t usually that bold with superiors unless it mattered, but something in you had told you this was a time when it mattered. You’d told him that and more, saying you would guide when guidance was needed and advise when advising was needed.

He had blinked in surprise then sat back in his chair and smiled.

Since then it had been the easiest of partnerships. You trusted each other’s judgements, rarely, strongly, disagreed and you both actually, genuinely got on very well. He didn’t mind in the middle of a mission if you started talking about a TV series you were watching, and you didn’t mind that he often called you ‘Hepburn’, a nickname born from when, a couple of months into your new role, he’d told you you’d reminded him of Katharine Hepburn with your assertive opening statement.

At times he’d had to defend you to your superiors for not bringing him in when they’d advised or not reporting him when he’d done something they’d prohibited, and you had got him out of more situations than you cared to count. 

You could read each other irritatingly well, so there is no doubt in your mind he knows how uncomfortable you are and the reason for it.

Great.

Drawing his eyes away after a few minutes as Sam is seemingly declared the winner, though Barton seems to just be calling a time-out, Steve looks to you.

“You seem to have done the impossible in this place and found a quiet corner.”

Oh, fuck, is he going to broach the subject now? Why did I wear this fucking dress?

You raise your eyebrows as you nod at the small table before you with an obnoxiously large floral arrangement on it which you’d been using as cover, though he’d still found you. 

“I can’t take all the credit, that’s doing most of the work.”

Then, beyond the flowers, you spot a middle-aged couple whispering to each other as they near, one of them trying, and failing, to subtly either film or take a picture of Steve.

“Oh, don’t look now, we’ve been spotted, Captain,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

He exhales a quiet sigh as his teeth briefly graze over his lower lip. “I’m sorry, I’ve ruined your peace.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, I was thinking of leaving now, anyway.”

Once I’d stopped being a child and made my legs work.

“Yeah, me, too.” Gazing over your head, you can see the plan he’s forming. “Come on.” 

Gently tapping a finger tip against your hand, he then passes behind you and opens the door to your left.

Oh my God, that was unlocked the whole time?

Holding it open for you, he gestures with his head for you to pass through. 

You don’t need telling twice. 

“You memorised the layout of the place, didn’t you?”

He glances over at you, looking nowhere near as sheepish as the situation probably demands. “Well, it makes for an easier exit.”

The wind carries your laugh. 

He’d taken the lead after you’d passed through the door and had known every turn to take, almost as if he’d spent the night before planning various escape routes. 

Thank God.

You’d eventually come out behind the building and you’d just arched an eyebrow at him as you spotted his car parked across the street.

Again, thank God.

Then, as you’d gotten in to the car, he’d said something that was even more amazing than getting you out of there.

“You fancy getting pizza?”

“Am I ever going to say no to that?”

He’d laughed at your faux-incredulous response, but you had hesitated for a moment. Eating, in this dress, feeling as you were..?

But then you’d thought, Fuck it, I want pizza.

And that’s how you found yourself sitting on a bench with Steve, a box of pizza between you, gazing out across a lake.

“Do you want the last slice?”

You really do, but... Having had five slices, sat there in a gold dress that makes you stand out like a shining star in the night sky, you wonder for the first time what Steve thinks when he sees you.

You hate the thought as soon as it enters your head.

You’ve gotten this far without thinking it about him; you think it with nearly everyone else you see, but you’d been raised with the idea of Steve just being this golden boy who was kind to everyone, never had a bad or judgemental thought about anyone. It was rare you and Steve were really in front of each other, so much of your work was over the phone or earpiece or through video calls. Even in briefings you’d be sat at a table and you’d be carrying a pile of folders in front of you. It hadn’t crossed your mind to think about what he thought of your body, until now.

“You all right, Hepburn?”

You’re pulled from your intrusive thoughts by his question and shift your gaze over to him. 

“Hm? Yeah, sure, just in a bit of a food coma, that’s all.” Even you can hear how forced your laugh is. “You have it.”

He eyes you for a moment before lifting the slice and taking a large bite.

“Thanks for escaping with me, by the way. You really have been with me every single step of the way.”

Oh, God.

This is the beginning of his roundabout, old man way of getting you to open up, you know it is.

“Nearly every step,” you counter, unable to stop a smile from forming despite yourself.

“Oh yeah,” he muses through a mouthful. “Panama. Say, where were you again?”

“In Ibiza, holidaying for the first time in ten years. You ever heard of a holiday? You should try it sometime.”

“I think I have. Wasn’t that invented in the 60s?”

He wipes his mouth with a napkin as you laugh and, damn it, let your guard down.

“What’s going on, Hepburn?” he asks gently, dropping the half-eaten slice back into the box and wiping the grease from his hands. “What’s going on in that brain?”

Your smile falters as you look at him. A quiet breath you realise you’ve been holding leaves you. Looking down at your hands, you fiddle with a ring on your finger.

He waits patiently, keeping his gaze on you.

Just say it.

“Steve... What do you think when you look at me?”

It nearly kills you to say it. You don’t want to know the answer. You don’t want to listen to him. You want to be far away, back in your bedroom with three covers over you and your laptop balanced on your thighs, watching your new favourite show. You want to escape again.

Steve blinks. He hadn’t known what to expect but it certainly wasn’t that.

“I think you’re a very intelligent, debatably hilarious person who I like and I want to be around.”

Your hands pause. Your eyes flick over to him. “... That’s it?”

He blinks again, now feeling rather sheepish. “Do you want more? You are hilarious, you know, it’s not debatable and ─ “

“No,” you quickly cut him off before he gets too carried away. “Well, yes, no, I just thought...”

“You thought what?” he presses after you trail off.

Lifting your gaze to the night sky, you blow out a breath and a second after it, it all just comes out.

“My body, Steve, I thought you’d say something about my body because, you know, how could you not? I know you’re probably just being polite but, come on, it’s the first thing people see when they look at me, you know. It’s not exactly avoidable. I know how people think, Steve, even if they’re my friend they must think some bullshit sympathy thing every time they look at me, you know, people in this world can’t just look at someone for their personality and, I know, I know, I’m more than my body, it doesn’t matter what other people think, I know all that, I tell myself all of that and most days I believe it, I really do, most days I don’t care but sometimes it’s just, some days are hard, especially when I decide to wear a bright fucking gold dress that shows every part of my body and I don’t like it, I don’t like the way I look sometimes and I hate that, I hate that I just can’t... Get over it.”

Another breath rushes out of you, slightly shuddered, and you beg yourself not to cry.

Oh, God, please don’t cry, please don’t fucking cry now.

He doesn’t say anything and you can’t look at him.

Then you feel his hand gently settle over yours, seizing your hands from their playing with the ring again.

“Take it from someone who’s had two very different ones; there is no wrong way to have a body.”

You finally look at him, and it’s not pity you find in his eyes, but understanding. Real, genuine understanding.

“People are going to think bullshit things,” he continues as you stare at him, his hand remaining over yours, a gentle smile on his lips, “They’re gonna take one look at you and think they’ve got you all figured out. But none of that matters. I know it’s hard to not think about it, but they don’t know a damn thing about you, what you’re really like. Those kinds of people aren’t worth knowing, anyway. It’s never how you look but what you do and how you behave that stays with people. I know it takes some time to unlearn society’s ‘rules’ and start really learning to love yourself but it can be done.” He squeezes your hand lightly. “And I wasn’t kidding, you’re incredibly intelligent, you’re kind, you’re funny, and that’s what I see when I look at you. I see the person that you are.”

You have to remind yourself to breathe. His smile widens a little more as you squeeze his hand in return, your lips lifting into a smile that almost matches his.

“Thank you, Steve,” you murmur, afraid if you speak any louder that your voice might crack with emotion.

“Don’t mention it,” he answers, the pad of his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ve been there.”

Clearing your throat, you feel real relief as you quietly confide, “I just wish I hadn’t worn something so tight and bright, you know.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m glad you did, Hepburn. Otherwise I would never have found you behind those damn flowers and I wouldn’t be here now with my favourite person.”

You feel your cheeks flush as you arch an eyebrow. “I’m your favourite person, huh?”

“Yeah, you are.” You think you see the faintest hint of colour rise on his own cheeks as he releases your hand and sits back. “I look forward to talking to you every day. Even when you ramble on about the Netflix.”

You laugh as he smiles, knowing that gets you every damn time.

“Y’know, now that you mention it, last night I started a show─”

“Okay, all right.” Steve closes the pizza box and wipes his hands on his thighs, feigning a sigh of resignation. “Before you start and I can’t get a word in, I think this calls for sundaes.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Always gotta have dessert.” Getting to his feet, he turns to you, then pauses, and a corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other. 

“Oh, God, what? Is there sauce on my face?”

“No, you’re fine, Hepburn,” he laughs as your hands fly up to your face. “Just look like the damn queen of the night is all.”

Your eyebrows shoot up as your cheeks flush again. “Oh...” Clearing your throat, you smile as you tilt your head. “That how you talk to all the girls back in the day, huh?”

He laughs as you get to your feet, holding out his hand to you. “No, that one’s just for you.”

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed in my future work!

Tagged: @fearandloathing-in-missouri, @persephone-divine, @jobean12-blog, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

[shirtlesssammy]

14x07: Unhuman Business

Then:

LaLaLa, this is not happening, LaLaLa

Now:

Uh, something seems to be wrong with my TV. Just Lucifer Nick blabbering on about his family and his regret for killing people that won’t help him find who killed his family.

At the bunker, Jack is not doing great, guys. Cas is attempting to heal him, but whatever is wrong with Jack is beyond his angel powers.

As the boys discuss their impossible situation, Jack falls to the floor, coughing blood and foaming at the mouth. They rush him to the hospital ASAP. 

Worried Dad Dean is HIGH MAINTENANCE, but I’ll forgive his overbearing ways. Jack is in deep trouble. First, the hospital just needs some basic data, like name and date of birth, both of which the Winchesters fumble on. Jack’s a Winchester you doofs! And I guess Jack is 18. And his dad exploded. Jack then collapses and the medical staff rush him to a room, Sam, Dean, and Cas by his side. 

(That framing tho)

God, my TV buzzed out again. Please stand by while I figure out WHY WE SHOULD CARE ABOUT NICK. He talks to a reporter and learns there was a cop, Frank Kellogg, who was patrolling Nick’s neighborhood the night his family died.

At the hospital, Jack’s tests results all came back negative. They’re going to have to run more tests. (Lol, I love how all of this is put in the vaguest way possible. Like not all tests are positive or negative, and what are they testing for?) The one thing they do know: His body is in complete systemic shutdown. (I read on Twitter the friendly reminder that you’re not a real hunter until you’ve died and come back again. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.)

The brothers decide it’s time to explore other options: Rowena. Dean suggests calling her. Sam already did. (Samwitch! --my Saileen heart hates me every time I goof about this) (Natasha: SAME) The doctor walks in on the boys dressing Jack to leave. AND LET ME JUST FALL INTO A PIT OF EMOTION watching Cas put his coat on Jack.

ROWENA arrives as fast as she can (like, oof, there isn’t anything in this for her. She just showed up to help the Winchesters? Guh.) She thinks Dean is in trouble, but Sam reveals it’s really Jack, Lucifer’s son. Rowena’s out. Before she bolts though, Jack works his magic nougat ways.

Rowena breaks the bad news that without Jack’s grace, his nephilim body can’t sustain itself. Cas offers up his own grace to save him. I’M NOT CRYING, YOU’RE CRYING! As Ro is nixing that idea, Dean’s vision starts to blur and his hearing warbles in and out. 

Not sure what was happening in this next Nick scene. He’s weird around a woman in an alley. She invites him back into the bar (WHY?) (Natasha: WHYYYYYYYY?) and then he secretly pulls a knife. In a brief moment of clarity, he yells at her to get away and she runs. And for the record: the giant neon S stands for Satan.

At the bunker, Overprotective Dean brings Jack a sandwich and milk. PURE. Jack is packing up and ready to hit the road, live a little before he dies. I’M NOT DYING, YOU’RE DYING.

Dean gets some serious dimples of discontent after listening to Jack but he’s not disagreeing with the boy.

Sam and Cas AND Rowena are on the research train. Cas presides over a mountain of books while Rowena and Sam call everyone they think might be able to help the poor young wee nephilim.

Dean gets the updates. The books are a bust, but Sam talked to Ketch, who has tipped them off about a shaman who might help. Dean takes all this in...maybe? In actuality, Dean wavers in and out of focus again. Oh, Dean Bean. Cas offers to tackle the shaman lead and the Winchesters can stay behind to look out for Jack. Enter Jack, with backpack, ready for adventure! Dean and Jack are heading out, to Castiel’s disapproval.

A little while later, Dean and Jack pick up some burgers and Dean tosses Baby’s keys to wee Jack. It’s driving lesson time! There’s so much wrapped up in this scene: Dean’s stunted childhood, his incredible capacity to nurture, Jack’s hero worship. MY HEART is wrapped up in this scene. They ease out on the road and Jack gains confidence quickly.

Dean turns on some tunes and BTO’s “Let it ride” sets the mood. Classic rock is such an important aspect of this show, and we didn’t realize how much we missed it as a set piece until this scene of open road driving.

(I’ll confess that I spent the first viewing of this scene ready for Jack to pass out and the car to careen dramatically off the road. I’m glad it didn’t.)

Cas heads out to find Sergei the shaman but before he goes, he talks with Sam about Dean’s reaction to Jack’s illness. “He seems to be taking this particularly hard,” Castiel observes. Sam tells him that Dean feels bad for the time he spent wishing Jack a swift and painful death at the beginning of last season.

Heartbreaking dialogue alert:

Sam: He’s lost people. We’ve all lost people but…

Cas: This feels different. Losing a son feels different.

But stow away those emotions, friends, because it’s time to go back to fun!Dad Dean. They’re eating more fast food, pulled over on the side of the road. “I’m a driver!” Jack announces gleefully. Yes, bby. Dean suggests a bar with promising hook-up potential. (Me: flashes back to Dean’s “Last night on Earth” speech with Cas back in season 4...and like, all of season 3.) Jack’s got other plans.

Nick finds Frank Kellogg, brings up the bare facts of his case, and then pushes Frank inside and holds him by the throat. Time to chat.

By a tumbling, small river, Jack gets into Dean’s deepest emotions like he’s ordering an ice cream shake at a diner. While they fish, Jack casually brings up that Dean and his father went fishing and that it was one of Dean’s happiest memories of him. Dean tries to dissemble, but Jack’s sure as a rock. (Now, there’s been some discussion about whether this was meant to refer to John or Bobby. My vote’s heavily on John. Dean loved his father, was disappointed by him, and longed for many things he could never have at the same time. Fishing with John Winchester was probably a shocking circle of calm - a pool of stillness and peace.)

Jack tells Dean that he wouldn’t miss the big, showy things in the world. Instead, he’d miss more time with Dean and the other people in his life.

Dean BARELY holds it together, a quaver in his voice as he returns, “Who’d’ve thought time with me would make you sentimental?” Dean. Bean.

Meanwhile, Cas drives his adorable blue car to meet Sergei the shaman. He’s immediately enveloped in a circle of holy fire. Thanks, buddy.

Sergei lives in a pimped out trailer, with flowers painted on the exterior and lushly colored and patterned textiles draped all over the interior. He proposes a “recharging agent” for Jack - something to shock his system and derail the degeneration. He offers Cas archangel grace (purportedly from Gabriel) and a spell to activate it. And the cost is simply that the Winchesters will owe him a favor. Sounds like a hell of a price to me.

Meanwhile Nick beats the shit out of Frank Kellogg. We learn that Nick’s neighbor saw Frank leave his house the night of the murders and the cops made him cover it up. Frank confesses that he met a man named Abraxis outside of Nick’s house and the next thing he knew, he was covered in blood. Frank was possessed by a demon which is some crazy ass shit, right? Sigh. Nick kills Frank horribly anyway, in a scene that goes on for WAY too long.

WAY the fuck too long.

In a giant breath of fresh air, we get back to the bunker, once again full of TFW 2.0 and Rowena Our Queen. They hand Jack the grace and it enters his body as Rowena chants the spell. Lights flicker. Jack’s eyes glow golden again. It’s worked!

Jack stumbles and falls again, worse than before.

Cas chews out Sergei via phone call and Sergei defends himself by saying that “science is sometimes trial and error.” It’s...awfully reminiscent of Michael’s experimentation, yes? It also reminds me of real world experimental parallels - now and throughout history. In a word: yikes.

Side note: Having once had a loved one’s body try to shut down in the ICU with no discernible cause...this episode really did hit home for me. It’s so easy in fiction to have a magical healing ability, and so much harder when there’s no explanation, no quick cure, and treatments that have your doctors crossing their fingers. I feel for all these dudes, and the doctors as well, is what I’m saying.

Anyway, Cas is pissed, and vows to smite Sergei’s ass if Jack dies.

For Vengeful Science

At Frank’s house, Nick prays to Lucifer and begs him to come back. In the blackness of the Empty, what looks like the Empty entity morphs into being and its eyes glow Lucifer-red. Well, fuck. (I’m actually excited to see the Empty again, but I am quite displeased about Lucifer.)

In the bunker, TFW mourns Jack’s rapidly failing condition. Rowena counsels them to stay by his side, for death approaches on swift wings.

Root Beer Quotes:

He’s sick, his name is Jack Kline, his father exploded.

Samuel, I thought we were beyond this.

Well, if it’s grace he needs, he can have mine.

Eyes on the road.

This is the best day ever!!!

Born with a wheel in your hand, huh?

Life isn’t all these big, amazing moments. It’s time together that matters.

Life - all of it - is a risk.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[winchesterwords]

“Black Magic Winchester” Part II - Hunting Fic

Summary:  Set during Season Two, after "Folsom Prison Blues", the boys get a call from Bobby asking for help on a missing persons case. What they think to be a simple monster hunt turns out to be much darker than the hunters anticipated. With Sam still reeling from his visions and Dean having no idea how to help his little brother, how will they handle tracking down the darkness that has appeared in Sioux Falls?

Word Count: 5564

Warning: SPN Violence

Song I Wrote To: “I’ll Be Good” by Jaymes Young

Note: Thank you for reading! -------

They headed back to Bobby’s in a complete and haunted silence. 

Nobody spoke until they were sitting in Bobby’s main room and Dean couldn’t take it any longer. 

“Is anyone else incredibly disturbed?” he asked, still trying to wipe the specks of ash from his clothing. 

“No, Dean, we’re both just fine ,” Bobby said, sipping from his glass of whiskey. 

“We just poked a very angry bear,” Sam said. His own glass was in his hand, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink it. “Whoever did that is going to be pissed when they realize someone torched their torture cave.” 

“Good,” Dean said.

“Did you find anything in Dad’s journal?” Sam asked, shrugging out of his jacket. As soon as they had settled back in the Singer house, Dean began flipping through John Winchester’s journal. However, it proved to be as much help as the previous research they had been doing. 

“If Dad had ever come across magic like this, he never noted it,” Dean sighed. 

“He never mentioned it to me,” Bobby said, “And a part of me is glad none of those infernal symbols made it into your daddy’s book. He had enough to deal with.” 

“You said you saw one the marks before,” Dean said to Bobby. “What exactly are we dealing with?” 

“I can’t be sure of the exact intention, but it has something to do with an offering ritual. An ancient one,” Bobby explained. 

“Offering to what? Pagan gods?” Sam asked.

“Pagan gods want blood, but usually not that much…” Bobby said, clearly still very disturbed from the macabre sight back in the cave. “No, this is something different.”

“Could they be summoning something?” Dean asked. 

“Maybe, but I can’t think of what. It’s not a demon and I doubt it’s any god I know of so that’s just another question we have to answer.”

“Here’s the first question,” Sam interjected, “What do we tell the families of these people?”

“Nothing,” Dean said quickly, “as awful as it is, we have to act as if we didn’t find a bunch of dismembered people in some bat cave. They will have to be considered missing for...well forever.”

“That’s not fair,” Sam said. 

“Nothing about this job is fair, kid,” Bobby told him. “Nobody should face the fate of those hikers and no family member should know that is how their loved one met their end.”

“So we do nothing?”

“We’re gonna get the sons of bitches who did this to them, Sammy,” Dean reassured, “That is what we will do.” Sam nodded, finally picking up his glass and downing the amber liquid quickly. 

“Okay, so where do we start?”

“I called Ellen,” Bobby said, “told her what was going on and she’s going to let us know if she hears anything, but so far she has nothing. However, hunters come and go through the Roadhouse all the time, someone will know something, we just have to be patient.”

“What about those hikers that went missing thirty years ago?” Sam asked, thinking about what Dean had mentioned to him earlier in the day. “Do you think it could be the same people?”

“Witches do tend to live obnoxiously long lives,” Dean pointed out. “Could be the same coven.” 

“And what? They’ve just taken a few decades off of slaughtering innocents?” Sam asked. 

“Certain rituals have cycles,” Bobby informed them, “some of them are yearly others happen over defined amounts of time. We won’t know anything for sure until we figure out who is doing this.”

They were quiet for a moment, all three hunters trying to wrap their minds around their afternoon when Bobby’s police scanner lit up. Bobby reached over and turned the volume up. They got the second half of the message. 

“...10-54 out by the south ridge, requesting backup. Suspects possibly still in the area…”

“10-54, that’s a dead body,” Sam said, looking between Dean and Bobby. “Another hiker?” 

“Probably not,” Dean said, placing his glass down. “I’ll go see what I can find out, you two try to find out what these psychos are up to.”

“Don’t forget your badge,” Sam said as Dean headed out. 

“It’s in the car!” Dean yelled over his shoulder as he slipped out the back door.

“You two have gotten much too comfortable pretending to be FBI,” Bobby said, shaking his head. Sam reached over and picked up his father’s journal, turning it over in his hands. 

“We had a good teacher,” Sam said as he opened open the book and began flipping once again.

As they waited for Dean to return, Bobby and Sam tried to stay busy, but their thoughts were going a mile a minute. Bobby, especially, had something on his mind.

“You should have waited for us,” Bobby said, sitting down across from Sam at the kitchen table. 

“What?” Sam asked, looking up from his laptop.

“When you fell into the cave, you should have waited for us before you went looking further.”

“Bobby,” Sam sighed, “this isn’t my first job. I know what I’m doing.” 

“It was an unknown situation, Sam, you didn’t know what was waiting for you in there. It was reckless.” 

“I’m a hunter, this is what I do,” Sam reminded him. 

“Doesn’t mean you get to make thoughtless decisions.” 

“Is this still about Green River? I thought we cleared that up?”

“This is about a lot of things,” Bobby defended. “I know you boys are grown and you’re good, but what if something had happened earlier today? Now, I don’t know about you, but I would rather not put another Winchester on a pyre anytime soon.” Sam blinked. He, of course, knew that Bobby cared about him and Dean, but he never realized that John’s death had brought on this protective nature so strongly. Sam wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“I’m not going to die, Bobby. Dean and I are smart, hell, we’re probably smarter than Dad ever was. He taught us well, you taught us well, we can handle this. I may be psychic, but I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Bobby joked.

“Funny,” Sam deadpanned.

“Just, give me a little leeway, okay?” Sam nodded, gripping Bobby’s shoulder. 

“I’ll do my best.”

“Speaking of being psychic…” Bobby said. 

“We really don’t need to talk about it,” Sam said, nearly pleading. 

“Shouldn’t we be talking about it? I mean, it’s a part of you now, right?” 

“Unfortunately,” Sam said, “Look, I haven’t quite figured it out. It all started as dreams and then they happened during the day and now I see death every time I close my eyes. I just wish I got the full picture for once.”

“Well, I always knew you were special, kid, I just didn’t think it would be this kind of special. Though stranger things have happened and we will deal with this just like any other case and I need you to know that I’m in your corner. Okay?”

“I know you are,” Sam said, shutting his computer. “At least you’re not breathing down my neck like my brother is.”

“Dean does that because he cares,” Bobby reminded him. “You two are the only family y’all have left. Take it for what it is.” 

“That’s not true,” Sam disagreed. “I think we have more family than we think and I suppose its time we start letting them help.” Bobby smiled slightly. 

“I’ll drink to that,” he said, raising his half-empty beer bottle. Their conversation was interrupted by the return of Dean. He entered the kitchen, pulling off his tie, and rolling up his shirtsleeves. 

“How’d it go?” Sam asked.

“Well, it was definitely a revenge killing,” Dean explained. “Park ranger found slaughtered not too far from the ridge. Locals are saying multiple assailants for sure and they don’t have a clue where to start looking. Which means that we now have an even bigger problem.” 

“We knew this was going to happen,” Bobby reminded them. “Though, I was hoping they wouldn’t retaliate so quickly.”

“That just means they get to die sooner,” Dean rationalized. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother just as Bobby’s phone rang. He answered it and then put it on speaker. 

“What do you got, Ellen?” Bobby asked. 

“Hey boys,” Ellen said. “So I asked around about your problem and a hunter from Arkansas said that he heard a story a few years back. Bunch of people went missing all because of a coven of witches that weren’t exactly ordinary.”

“No witch is ordinary,” Dean said. “They’re all crazy with their blood and animal sacrifices.”

“Fair point, Dean,” Ellen said. “But these witches aren’t just into blood oaths and killing cats. This particular coven is rumored to worship not any known gods, but themselves as gods.”

“That’s a bit garish,” Bobby interjected. 

“It gets worse,” Ellen said, “They will sacrifice as many people as they think is appropriate for their chosen one.”

“And the chosen one? Who would that be?” Sam asked. 

“No way to know for sure. I guess you’ll find that out when you find the coven. My guess? It is the one they are keeping close to them. May even have some heavy protection magic around them.”

“Great, so they’re going to be even more of a headache than we thought,” Dean groaned, his hand pressing against his brow.

“Nobody ever said this job was easy, honey,” Ellen said. “Let me know if you three need anything. You know I’m always here.” 

“Thanks, Ellen,” Sam said. Bobby ended the call and faced his boys. 

“So, who’s up for a little hunting?”

Hunting demons was easy. 

A little holy water, a good exorcism for someone, likely Sam, to memorize, and a whole lot of wisecracking. However, when it came to witches, they had to take more precautions and a whole lot more ammunition.

Bobby handed out protection charms to both of the boys, but they weren’t even sure they would work as they weren’t sure what exactly they were walking in on. Ellen had given them some much-needed information, but still, it was going to be a gamble nonetheless.

As they geared up, Dean was able to acquire more information from the attractive medical examiner in the coroner's office. According to the M.E., the park ranger that was found murdered had symbols carved into his body and after a little bit more convincing, the doctor emailed Dean some photos of the carvings and they were perfect matches for the ones the three hunters had discovered in the caves. 

“Do we need this?” Sam asked, holding up a small pouch with symbols along the top of it.

“If you want to keep your hand, I would put that down, kid,” Bobby said, glancing over his shoulder.  Sam dropped the bag back into the trunk he was digging through. 

“Best bet?” Dean said as he walked into the basement holding up his pistol and shotgun, his brows raised. Bobby glanced between the two firearms. 

“Both?” He offered. 

“Both it is!” Dean said with an excited smile. 

“Dean, do you ever think you enjoy this job a little too much?” Sam asked, loading his own weapons. 

“Life is short Samuel, better to have fun rather than treating everything so serious.” Sam scowled at the use of his full name but didn’t comment. He knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Dean was Dean and no amount of persuasion from Sam was going to change that.

“I think we’re as prepared as we’re going to get,” Bobby said. “Just do me a favor and if it goes bad, aim for the head. They can’t hex you if their face is no longer attached to their body.”

“Always so poetic, Bobby,” Dean said. Dean then tossed his sawed-off to his brother who easily caught it. “Alright, gents, let’s go get us some witches.”

The rumble of the Impala rolled down the back road of the nearby hiking trails. 

Deputies were still surrounding the main entrance and the last thing the hunters wanted was to have to explain why three men clad in flannel carrying shotguns were planning to go on an evening hike where multiple people had disappeared and one was murdered.

Dean parked in the shade of a few overgrown trees and they grabbed their gear. Bobby figured that the cave was not where the witches set up their main coven. Usually, ritual sites were close, but not adjacent to the main home. So, the men headed West, keeping parallel to the ridge that  Sam first discovered.

The sun was starting to disappear behind the trees, which was an advantage for them and hopefully not for the ones they hunted. Dean led the way through the rough terrain with Sam in the middle, and Bobby keeping an eye on their six. They didn’t speak, only occasionally did Dean raise his fist, halting the group when he heard something or spotted movement out of the corner of his eye.

About an hour into their hike, Dean pulled them to a stop. He tapped his nose, telling the others he smelled something. It didn’t take long for the other two to realize Dean was smelling fire. They crept a bit further, keeping hidden in the bushes. A few more yards and they found the source. A campfire had been lit outside of an abandoned ranger’s station. The building was overgrown with weeds and most of the wood was rotted, but it would do for a makeshift shelter, or in this case, the main hideout for a coven of witches.

The flames in the fire were still high enough for the hunters to realize the witches were still around. There was no movement outside the station, but Sam could see shadows moving in the windows. Dean turned to Sam and Bobby to formulate a plan when a loud screech echoed from the decrepit building.

“That was a kid,” Dean whispered in horror. They were frozen, trying to figure out what to do next and then they heard the scream again.

They moved. 

Bobby withdrew a flash-bang from his bag and threw it through one of the open windows. They turned their heads just as the station lit up in bright white light. Screams of surprise pierced the air and the hunters moved in. Dean kicked in the door, sending splinters across the room. Sam and Bobby followed, their guns raised.

Chaos ensued immediately. The women inside the station struggled to get their bearings back. Dean went for one of them, pressing his gun to the back of her skull, holding her down. As Dean secured his witch, Sam got a good look at the coven’s home.

The walls were littered with newspaper clippings of disappearances from many years, symbols that were identical to the ones in the cave were painted on the floor, and every witch wore dark dresses that had seen better days.

A witch, one that looked to be much older than the rest, charged Sam, her hands reaching for his eyes and a spell was on her lips. “Stop!” Dean yelled, bringing the room’s attention to him and his hostage. The witch in his arms was younger, but she looked even more feral than the rest of them. “You move or even try a single hex and I’ll blow her brains out,” he threatened. 

Sam raised his own weapon and leveled it at the witch before him. “Where’s the kid?” Sam asks. The witch raised her hand, commanding her coven to stand down. Her wild eyes scanned over the younger Winchester and then a wicked smile spread across her dirt-caked face. 

“I know who you are,” she said, her voice was smooth like honey. “The child that was chosen by the demon. Sam Winchester.” The way she said his name made Sam uneasy. It was almost as if she knew more about him than he knew himself. “You’re supposed to lead us to victory,” she continued. 

“Nobody is leading anything, witch,” Dean interjected. 

“Don’t you want to know who gave you your gifts?” the witch asked, ignoring Dean who still held her sister in a vice. Sam’s brows lowered slightly, but his weapon stayed steady. 

“What do you know?” Sam asked, the mission slowly being forgotten. The witch smiled wider. 

“Sammy, don’t listen to her!” Dean called. 

“You and our savior will lead us to victory!” the witch screamed, gesturing to a dark corner. Sam could now see that tucked away was the source of the cries they had heard earlier. Curled up against the wall was a young girl, maybe around nine-years-old. Sam refocused on the witch before him, but Dean was watching the scared little girl. Her hair was dirty, her clothes too, and it looked as if symbols had been written down her arms in dark ink. Her dark eyes were now on Dean’s and she looked as if she was trying to keep it together for his sake. Dean tightened his grip on the woman in his arms.

“What does the kid have to do with any of this?” Dean asked, drawing the attention away from Sam before the coven could interrogate him further about The Demon. The witch turned to Dean and away from Sam. She stalked towards the older Winchester, examining him with every step.

“Dahlia was chosen,” the witch said. “She will be worshipped by all.” The witch turned to look at the girl with sudden fury, “If she finally accepts her offerings!” The girl, Dahlia, turned her body away from the coven. 

“Those ‘offerings’ were human beings,” Bobby interjected. “Innocent people that you slaughtered!” 

“You kill to make your world a better place, so do I,” the witch told Bobby.

“Let the girl go,” Sam demanded. 

“She is not finished!”

“No, but you are,” Dean interjected, aiming his gun away from his hostage and at the head witch. However, she moved first. The witch threw her arms in a wide arc, sending Bobby and Sam flying across the room. The girl in Dean’s arms jabbed her elbow into his chest, knocking the wind from him. She grabbed a discarded lantern from the floor and threw it at Dean who ducked just in time. As two more witches flanked him, Dean saw Sam across the room struggling to his feet as witches converged on his brother.

Sam’s chest felt heavy. 

The edges of his vision were blurring and the world seemed to tilt beneath him. Sam clutched at his chest as he struggled to get to his feet. Through his haze, he could see three witches surrounding him, their hands stretched out in front of them as they recited the hex currently invading Sam’s body. 

Sam could feel the magic trying to take him over and when he reached for the gun a couple of feet away, the witches pressed harder. Sam clutched at the sides of his head as the pain intensified, but then a sharp crack echoed through the room and one of the witches attacking Sam went down. 

Sam peered through the chaos to see Dean charging towards his brother, his shotgun in hand. He aimed at the second witch and fired, sending the woman down. Dean reached his brother, grabbing his arm to pull him to his feet. 

“Rock salt,” Dean said, holding up his gun. “Won’t kill them, but it does the job.”

“Thanks,” Sam sighed. Dean nodded and then ran to the other side of the room as Sam grabbed his own shotgun and started to take aim.

Dean cut through the coven, taking out any witch that attempted to hex him, even dodging a few blades. While Sam and Bobby struggled to contain the women behind him, Dean went for the one who stood above Dahlia. He raised his gun, but the witch twisted her hand and Dean’s knees buckled.

“She is not finished!” Dahlia’s guard said, her eyes crazed. “But you will be the final sacrifice.” The witch reached for Dean, drawing a blade from her waist. Dean struggled to call for Sam or Bobby as the hex took hold, but he kept his eyes on the woman, not letting her see him give an inch. The witch raised her knife and then suddenly fell forward as she was hit from behind. 

Dean took a deep breath as the hex was lifted and stared up at a very scared Dahlia who held an old lamp in her hands. Her arms were shaking as she stared down at the witch. Slowly, Dean picked up his gun with his right hand and reached for Dahlia with his left. “Come on,” he whispered to the frightened child. Dahlia dropped the lamp and took Dean’s hand.

Without a second of hesitation, Dean hauled the girl into his arms and she buried her face in his jacket. “Cover your ears!” he told her and she pressed her small hands to the sides of her head. Dean fired indiscriminately at the many coven members who tried to stop him from leaving the ranger’s station. “Sam! Bobby!” he yelled, gaining their attention. 

Both hunters were taking out witches and trying to destroy the ritual symbols at the same time. Clearly, the chaos had made whatever magic the witches were attempting to perform very difficult. Not to mention the fact that Dean was now carrying their self-declared “god” out of the prison they called home.

Dean didn’t have the most experience with hexes or even how to dodge them. Not to mention, the charms that Bobby had given to them were clearly not effective when it came to the ancient blood magic. 

Dahlia clung to Dean, her tiny fingers digging into his jacket. He was trying to focus on too many things at once and it was all becoming muddled, but there was one thing that he was sure of: he was getting this kid out of there.

“Dean, go!” Sam yelled as he pulled out a flash bang from Bobby’s bag. The three hunters were good, but this amount of witches was even too much for them.

Dean ran for the door, shoving his way through debris and witches alike. He wasn’t sure how he managed to break through it all and back into the forest, but soon his booted feet were crushing leaves and the remains of the station that scavengers had decided to pick off over the years. 

Dahlia still had her hands over her ears when Sam and Bobby broke through the door, yanking it closed behind them. Sam held his right arm tight to his chest as he limped towards Dean. Behind the Winchesters, Bobby drew his knife, dragged it across his palm and then scrawled a symbol on the door in his blood just as something slammed into it from the other side.

Bobby ran to the boys, ready to give them an order when a loud boom echoed across the forest. The ground shook beneath them and Sam lost his footing, going down on a clearly hurt leg. The air was electrified with magic and through the open windows, cries of pain reached the hunter’s ears.

Then, it was silent. 

“What just happened?” Dean asked, his arms firmly around Dahlia who was crying quietly. 

“They just put themselves in an early grave,” Bobby explained. “The symbol,” he gestured, “makes any spell rebound on the casters.”

“I didn’t think something like that would work on this kind of magic,” Sam said, stretching his leg out in front of him. “These didn’t,” he gestured to the charms. 

“I didn’t think it would work either, but hell, I’m glad it did,” Bobby said. A quiet sniffle alerted the other hunters and it was then that Sam and Bobby finally realized they now had another problem.

Dahlia was clearly not intending to let Dean Winchester go any time soon so he pulled her closer. “We have to get her out of here,” Dean whispered, handing Bobby his shotgun. Bobby was reaching for it when there was suddenly a rustling behind them.

Sam reached for his pistol just as the head witch crawled towards them, her face bloodied and bruised. She was barely alive as she coughed, staring right at Sam.

“Bobby,” was all that Dean said, but Sam raised his hand, telling Singer to stand down. The younger Winchester got to his feet so he could face the woman.

“It’s over,” Sam told her. She smiled up at him with bloody teeth.

“It’s only...beginning,” the witch said, “multiple ends are near, Sam Winchester and you, you are at the center of it.”

Sam raised his gun, but there was no need. After another mouthful of blood, the witch went limp and she was gone. Sam stared at the body, letting her words sink into his mind. 

“Sam?” Dean asked, resting his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Sam was completely still and then, he slowly turned to face his brother. Sam went to speak when his eyes met Dahlia's. He then focused on the symbols painted on the girl and his jaw tightened. 

“We have to get her out of here,” he simply said. Dahlia reached an arm out to Sam who grasped her hand in his for a moment before Dean pulled her away and started to walk away from the ranger station and the ominous warnings of dead witches.

They reached the car at a slow rate. 

Sam was indeed quite injured. His shoulder was most likely sprained and a witch had gotten a blade into his left leg. Bobby helped him down the trails and back to the car where he dumped the former law student unceremoniously into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean sat in the back with Dahlia, trying to calm her down while Bobby drove.

Sam didn’t listen to anything that Bobby and Dean said. He assumed they were discussing what to do with Dahlia. Sam figured since there was no missing persons report for the young girl, she may have been a neglected foster kid or even given willingly to the coven which didn’t help his rage at the moment. 

He could never catch a break when it came to all of this demon business. The coven had known who he was. Had known his role in whatever the Yellow-Eyed Demon wanted. Sam figured that if he had discovered the murderous witches alone, this evening would have gone much differently. Perhaps he could have even gotten some proper answers rather than theories and vague visions of futures that only promised death and pain. 

Sam let his head rest against the cool window of the car and watched the roads of Sioux Falls pass by. They had gotten the killers, but the families of the victims would never know what happened to their loved ones and that never sat well with Sam. He didn’t think it ever would. 

Because Sam and Dean were still America’s Most Wanted, Bobby took initiative and drove Dahlia to the police station once they had returned to the Salvage Yard.

It had taken some convincing for Dahlia to let go of Dean’s jacket, but after a short reassuring conversation from Dean, Dahlia reluctantly let go. The tears were still fresh in her eyes as she took Bobby’s hand and went with him.

Dean didn’t waste any time in dragging his brother to the kitchen. “Sit,” he ordered and Sam obeyed, not wanting to argue at the moment. Dean pulled two beers from the fridge as Sam collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs.

Sam immediately took a pull of his beer when Dean handed it to him. As he sipped at his drink, Dean got to work on the leg. He poured rubbing alcohol over the wound causing Sam to wince. 

“Baby,” Dean taunted, gaining a slight kick from Sam. “It’s not deep,” Dean said, examining the knife wound. “You won’t need stitches, just keep a fresh bandage on it.” He tore open the small slit in Sam’s jeans just enough to tape off the wound. “You’ll need new jeans too,” Dean said with a smug smile.

Sam only hummed in response. Dean stood from his crouch and went to Sam’s shoulder, feeling the joint to make sure it wasn’t dislocated. He then dug out a couple of painkillers and handed them to his brother who popped them with another sip of beer. “Sam…” Dean began. 

“Dean, don’t,” Sam said with a deep sigh.

“Don’t tell me not to ask you about it because we both know I never do what you ask,” Dean said as he pulled a bandage from the medical bag Bobby had stashed in his kitchen. He figured there were many emergency bags such as this littered around the Singer house. You had to love hunters. 

“You said it yourself, witches are crazy,” Sam said, biting his cheek as Dean wrapped up his shoulder, pulling on the joint. 

“Some are,” Dean agreed, “but some, unfortunately, do know what they’re talking about. Next to demons they know just about everything going on when it comes to the supernatural.”

“Then why didn’t other witches stop these ones from killing all those people?”

“My guess?” Dean offered, “this coven seemed to be some kind of doomsday prepper type. Hell, they think offering a bunch of chopped up hikers to a kid is the way to protect them from the end times.” 

“Multiple ends,” corrected Sam.

“What?”

“The witch, she said ‘multiple ends’ were coming,” Sam turned to look up at Dean. “You don’t seem too worried about that.” Dean took a sip from his beer.

“I’ll worry when there is something to worry about. I am not going to take some sixth sense warning from a bitch who targets kids,” Dean explained. “And neither should you.” Sam turned away, but Dean wasn’t letting him get off that easy. He pulled out a chair across from his brother and zeroed in on him. “You listen to me, Sam,” he began, “we’ve been dealt bad hands before and we’re not exactly in a field of daisies at the moment considering our mugshots are plastered in every damn government building. Multiple ends or whatever are always on the horizon. If they weren’t, then we would be out of work. Demons? Witches? Easy. It all stems from the same thing: evil and fighting evil is what we were raised to do. Don’t you forget that.”

“Now who sounds like Dad?” Sam said, smiling faintly. Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother. 

“That was a damn good speech. You should be more appreciative.”

“It could use some work,” Sam joked. 

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Sam was two ice packs in by the time Bobby came home. 

“Kid is okay,” Bobby announced. “She went missing a few counties over. They’re looking for the parents now who also seem to have gone off the grid.”

“So either the witches killed her mom and dad or they willingly gave her up,” Dean realized. 

“Sounds like it,” Bobby agreed, disappearing into the kitchen only to return to the sitting room with a beer of his own. Sam and Dean were already a few in as Bobby joined them. 

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Sam asked. 

“No, but I know she’ll be alive and safe,” Bobby said. “Sheriff is going to take care of her. I don’t like the police, but Sheriff Mills is a good one.” 

“Why do they always have to bring kids into this?” Dean said, his anger from earlier bubbled up again. 

“Evil doesn’t allow for prejudice most of the time,” said Bobby, “everyone is at risk.”

“It’s a screwed up system,” Dean said, draining his beer. 

“It may be screwed up, but that’s life, boys,” Bobby said, glancing between the two of them. Dean looked at his brother.

“I feel a lecture coming on,” Dean said and Sam nodded in response.

“The two of you, I swear,” Bobby began. “Look, I’m grateful you two helped me with this one. It’s nice to know you two idgits aren’t completely incompetent when it comes to your job.” Dean pursed his lips in confusion, but stayed silent as Bobby went on, “This was a bad one, victim wise, but you handled it well. Your daddy would be proud.” Sam went to argue when Bobby shot him a look. 

“Now I know that you two are good, hell, you’re better than most of us more seasoned hunters, but you can’t be stupid. I don’t think much about warnings from witches, but that one...it’s gnawing at me. So, you two need to not be stupid.” Bobby leaned forward, looking at both of them, his face completely serious. Sam felt a weight press further on his chest as he felt the severity of their situation. 

“Bobby?” Dean asked after a moment of silence. 

“Sam, Dean,” Bobby finally said, “if the end is comin’, we’ll face it together. Even if it’s coming at us from all sides. Remember you boys ain’t alone.”

However, at that moment, even amongst his family, Sam never felt more alone and a part of him knew that he’d be the one to face what was coming and it wouldn't be with his brother by his side. Sam knew he had to face this evil head-on without an army.

He only prayed that, in the end, Dean would let him.

[nyangibun]

GoT S07E01 Thoughts

I don’t know if this will be a regular occurrence, but for the first episode, I’m going to be laying out my thoughts about the premiere in what will probably be a lengthy post that’s half gibberish and half maybe something substantial. Undoubtedly, not eloquent. These are just thoughts and nothing more that I’ve jotted down while watching and am now about to elaborate on. 

Let’s begin with what has to be one of the most epic intros in Game of Thrones ever. No, I don’t want to hear your counter. You will not sway me on this. I don’t care, mate, because this scene was bloody awesome. The minute Filch Walder Frey’s face popped up, I knew it was Arya and I knew shit was about to go down. Now nobler humans might be like ‘Oh, Arya is going down a dark path; this is bad’ but her gathering all of the Freys in one room was poetic justice. What they did at the Red Wedding warranted retaliation and this has been a long time coming. 

It was beautiful the way it happened too – a dark sadistic glee washed over you as you watch a room full of men choke on their drinks as Arya stands there telling them they should’ve killed all the Starks, and “leave one wolf alive and the sheep are never safe.” 

Look, people really hated that line prior to the premiere, but in context, it was wonderful, it was justified, it was so unbelievably satisfying. Then when Arya goes, “tell them the North remembers; tell them Winter came for House Frey”, you bet I got goosebumps. Like I’ve said time and time again, ‘Winter is Coming’ is not just a warning, but it’s a battle cry for the Starks. This is their season. When the world dies, the lands become barren and the knights of Summer struggle to survive, the North prevails, and the Starks are at the helm of this changing tide. It’s their time now, and beginning it with Arya avenging the loss of her family is a truly poignant way to set the tone for the rest of the season. Yes, we’ll see Cersei and Dany duking it out, but at the end of the day, this is about the Starks. 

The next thing I jotted down was ‘zombie giants’, which is just to say that: holy shit, there are zombie giants! Seeing the sheer number of White Walkers, it makes you realise how utterly inconsequential Cersei and Dany’s fight for the Iron Throne is. There won’t be a kingdom to govern when those icy bastards get past the Wall, and believe you me, they will eventually. No matter what anyone says, that Wall is coming down probably at the end of this season. 

Seeing Dolorous Edd as Lord Commander gave me goosebumps as well. I adore him; I love him, and I swear to god if he dies, I will kick someone’s ass, so he’s probably going to die. But him meeting Bran and Meera made my heart race. They are so close to Winterfell and we’re so close to another Stark reunion. Also, hey Bran, I know the world is ending but cheer up, pal. 

Now we get to the highly talked about scene with Jon and the Northern houses. First of all, I felt so euphoric when Jon told the North that they would need every man and woman, boy and girl fighting in this battle. Even more so when Lyanna spoke up and basically told the men in the room to shut up about it. Her “I don’t need your permission to defend the North!” speech was seriously my top five favourite moments of the episode. The look of pride on Brienne’s face as well. I wonder, however, if this means Sansa might learn how to fight? I don’t see it. She’s a diplomat, a politician, but she should know some self-defence. Jon should teach her. Late at night. Alone. Some flirty teaching.... I’m getting sidetracked. 

Speaking of Jon and Sansa though, can I just say to that redditor who apparently saw the first episode: ‘Hey buddy, you were wrong! And if you interpreted that scene as Jon putting Sansa in her place then you really are a sexist creep.’ Because while yes, Sansa does argue with Jon in public and Jon does tell her his word is final, he in no way puts her in her place. And there is no moment where the other Houses laugh at her. In fact, going by the murmurs of agreement, quite a large amount of lords and ladies wanted Jon to give Umber and Karstark lands to the houses who didn’t fight for Ramsay. 

I also want to clarify something here before anti’s get all up in arms about this scene (not that I think any of them follow me or stalk my blog but if you do: hi, how are ya?). While I do agree with Jon’s decision, in the end, I also understand Sansa’s opinion on the matter. If I had gone through what she had under the ministrations of Ramsay and knew that these Houses who have sworn up and down in the past to fight for the Starks sided with him, I’d be furious. There wouldn’t be a damn thing anyone could say to me to get me to forgive their indifference and compliance in the trauma I went through. Sansa has every right to want to strip the Umbers and Karstarks of their land. I can even understand being angry with Jon for not understanding this, but here’s the thing, she wasn’t.

Immediately after this extremely public argument, it cuts to a scene of Jon and Sansa talking about it. They didn’t fight, let the emotions fester and build up resentment. No, Jon and Sansa talked it out. He told her not to undermine him in public and she told him a king needed to be questioned lest he ends up like Joffrey. Then when he asks her if she thinks he’s like Joffrey, her eyes lose that fight and there’s fondness in it, as she tells him firmly that he is the furthest man from Joffrey she had ever known. Although they’re arguing and disagreeing on important political decisions, there’s fondness and trust and respect in the way they talk to each other. 

What I find interesting is that after Jon and Sansa’s scene, they cut straight away to Jaime and Cersei. Two pair of (sort of) siblings and yet two vastly different relationships. The placement of these two scenes is no coincidence. The two relationships act as literary foils for one another. Both are fighting and arguing, but in contrast, Jaime and Cersei are clearly on very different paths from one another. There’s wariness, disbelief, and disappointment in the way Jaime looks at Cersei; and she is so consumed with her grief, anger, power, she can’t see that he is questioning her very right to be on the throne. They are shot as two opposing figures circling each other with lots of space in between them. On the other hand, Jon and Sansa were shot close together, always within inches from another, with dimmer lighting, and more physicality (ie. Sansa touching his arm to assure him and let him know she may argue but she is on his side). 

Don’t dismiss the sequence of these scenes. Nothing in this show is a coincidence. 

Moving on, I love Sam and I am so excited to see him again, but dear lord, that was the most disgusting series of shots ever. I felt physically ill. Please never again. But I wonder if he discovers the dragon glass at Dragonstone this early in the season, what else will he uncover in the Citadel? There’s definitely more in store for Sam’s storyline and I wonder if it might be something to do with R+L=J. People have theorised about Sam confirming it somehow. We’ll see, I guess.

Nothing really of substance to say about the Brienne, Podrick and Tormund scene, but it made me laugh out loud. Tormund is the physical embodiment of the heart eyes emoji. And his “you’re a lucky man” to Podrick when he gets knocked down by Brienne was such great comedic timing and brilliantly hilarious. 

I wish I could play this next scene on a loop. Sansa telling Littlefinger off has to be the greatest ‘screw you’ to all the people clambering for StarkBowl just because they don’t like Sansa. I love when she says to him, and I’m paraphrasing here, “you don’t have to get the last word. I’m sure it’s probably something clever” and just dismisses him like he’s nothing, which he is. It was so queenly, so regal and so cutting. It was exactly like Sansa. She may not have a sword, but her tongue is sharp enough to wound. 

The biggest surprise of the episode was seeing bloody Ed Sheeran. When we heard the singing, I said that whoever that was had a great voice, and low and behold, it’s bloody Ed. I knew there was a huge musical guest star but this totally surprised me. I love this scene though. Arya’s always been on a very rigid path for vengeance. Those who serve the Lannisters are in the wrong and there’s no grey area about it, but you can see her sitting there listening to these men caught in someone else’s war longing to be home with their fathers, wives, daughters, etc. and realise that they are victims of this war just like everyone else. I wonder how that’ll change (if it does at all) Arya’s journey towards vengeance because truth be told, I am worried about her this season. Next on her list is Cersei, but we all know Cersei will either die by the hand of Jaime or by Tyrion (probably Jaime), so where will that leave Arya? Will she give up her quest and head home to Winterfell? Or will she die trying? 

You know what? I do like the Hound. I like his redemption arc. And although I don’t believe it makes up for all the bad shit he did prior to it, I am intrigued to see where he goes from here. Also, this line is hilarious: “it’s my luck I'd end up with a band of fire lovers.” 

Now, what I’m about to say people might nitpick with me being an anti-Dany person, but honestly, I’m not. I just thought the whole Dragonstone sequence was incredibly boring. It was exciting the first thirty seconds, but it dragged on for so long. Then when she stands at the table and says, “shall we begin?” it was just so anticlimactic. It was the dullest part of the episode and I’m hoping it gets more interesting for her soon. Actually, no doubt it will be considering this is her make or break moment, but let’s be honest, that sequence was way too long. 

Anyway, I’m done. Those are my thoughts. Let me know what you guys think!

[bionic-buckyb]

What Happens In Vegas: The Final Part

A Bucky x Reader / AU drabble series

Master List

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long! Idk if anyone knew but I was going through some rough patches for a little while. Gonna try to write on a regular basis now. Anyways, here is the final part. There will be an epilogue! Let me know what you think. I love hearing from you! ♥

Word Count: 2,101

Warnings: - language, maybe?

Tags: (at the end)

*gif is not mine.

Bucky followed you around the next morning like a lost puppy. He was nervous, constantly biting his nails, his hands fidgeting. You drank at least three cups of coffee, trying to keep your mind clear and alert for the sure shit storm that was going to be this trial. You had put out all the stops to pull these strings; normally, cases like this didn’t go to trial for months. But you knew people and, although you didn’t exercise that privilege often, you were glad it was there.

“Okay, so how is this going to go again?” Bucky asked you in the car on the way to the courthouse, his fingers tapping against his knee.

“You don’t really say much of anything, unless the judge asks you to. Let me do all the talking.”

“I don’t have to testify?”

“This isn’t criminal court, Bucky. It’s civil.”

“Peggy is not a civil person,” he sighed, exhaling dramatically.

“It’s the category of the court, not an adjective of her personality, although,” you paused, taking a sip of your fourth coffee. “I don’t disagree with you.”

“She’s loaded, Y/N. Guaranteed she paid the judge off. I’ll never have rights to Charlotte, see her, get to know her, nothing.”

“Doubtful. The judge is a friend of mine, and I paid him to not take Peggy’s money and to give us a fair trial.”

“You paid him off?”

“Well no, not technically. His son is in some… trouble. He asked me to take his case pro bono and I agreed, if he didn’t take Peggy’s bargaining money. Fair trial.”

“Okay…” Bucky trailed off, looking out the window.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, placing your hand on his shaking knee.

“I’m scared,” he said, looking over at you quickly, placing his hand over your own. “What if she’s not mine? What if… after all this time I’ve been heartbroken over a little girl who doesn’t even share my DNA?”

“That possibility is there, Bucky, as much as I hate to admit it. Why else would Peggy be so hateful towards the whole situation?”

“I don’t know, but I guess we’ll find out soon. That mouth swab is always accurate, right? Like there’s never any false--”

“No, Bucky. They’re always right.”

The rest of the ride to the courthouse was quiet, your mind racing over the text message you’d sent in the bathroom the previous afternoon.. Did he take the test too? Would he even show up?

You pulled into the parking lot and grabbed your briefcase. Straightening out your pantsuit, you took Bucky’s hand and walked up the stone steps to the towering marble courthouse.

“Don’t let it intimidate you,” you whispered to Bucky, who was now a lovely shade of ghost white. You gave a small squeeze to his hand of what you hoped was encouragement. “Everything is going to be fine.”

You were early, which was a good sign. Peggy hadn’t shown up yet, even when you were let into the courtroom. You were hoping she’d be late, but she was right on time, walking into the spacious room with her nose in the air. She didn’t even make eye contact with you or Bucky, as she took her seat next to her lawyer. Peggy was dressed to the nines; her hair in perfect curls, a maroon dress hugging her curves, four inch heels on her feet, manicured nails tapping the wooden table impatiently. You wanted to punch her in the face. This wasn’t something you rushed through. Her lawyer was a boring, grey old man, who reeked so badly of smoking tobacco it wafted halfway across the room.

Bucky sat next to you, fidgeting nervously, squeezing your hand under the table. Your own heart was beating in your chest so loudly, the rush of your blood pulsed in your ears. The results of this DNA test would change everyone’s lives, not just Bucky’s. It would change yours, Peggy’s, Bucky’s, Steve’s…

Looking back at the door, you watched it begin to close. The trial was about the begin. Before the door could close all the way, a familiar man squeezed his way through the cracks, taking a seat at the back of the courtroom. His hat was pulled low and he wore a baggy denim jacket, trying to hide himself. There was no hiding from you. You knew who he was the instant he sat down.

Steve.

So he did show up after all, but did he take the test? You’d feared the worst, but now feared for Bucky. He was so desperate to have that little girl be his, to have rights to her. What if Charlotte really wasn’t his?

“All rise!” the bailiff shouted over everyone talking, and the whole room stood up. Your friend the judge, Sam Wilson, came striding out of his office and took his seat. Thankfully, Bucky didn’t look to the back of the courtroom. He had no idea Steve was here, and neither did Peggy.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Judge Wilson said, opening the file and looking at its contents. “I see today we have a case, regarding the parentage of Charlotte Carter.”

You stood up, smoothing out your pants suit. Swallowing hard, you shot a glance at Peggy, who shot you the evilest grin.

“Yes, your honor. I’m here today to defend my client, Mr. Barnes, regarding his rights to Charlotte Carter.”

Judge Wilson nodded for you to continue.

“It is under my client's impression that Charlotte is his. Miss Carter has been keeping her from him, for reasons unknown. We’re here today to find out her true paternal parentage, for the sanity of my client, your honor.”

“Miss Carter,” Judge Wilson said, turning his attention towards Peggy. “I see here that you have tried to deny DNA testing for Charlotte’s father. May I ask why?”

Peggy stood up, her eyes shooting through you like daggers. Bucky sat next to you, his leg bouncing, fiddling with his fingers. You wanted nothing more than to scoop him in a hug, and make this all go away. “James Barnes is an unfit parent, your honor,” Peggy spat, her voice coated with slime. “He travels around the world and picks up women for who knows what. He’s never home, and he hasn’t tried to contact Charlotte or myself in four years…”

Before you could stop him, Bucky shot up out of his chair, almost knocking it over behind him.

“That’s a lie, and you know it!” he yelled, pointing his finger in her direction. Your favorite piece of hair fell onto his forehead, before he hastily put it back in place. You placed your hand on his shoulder and he immediately calmed, sitting back down. Judge WIlson tapped his gavel.

“Order, order…” he said calmly, trying to keep peace. “Mr. Barnes, please stand.”

Bucky did as he was told and stood up, folding his hands and placing them in front of him.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m going to ask you a few questions.”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Have you ever been convicted of a felony?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you ever been in trouble with the law at all?”

“No, sir.”

Judge Wilson turned his gaze from Bucky to Peggy. Peggy’s face went white at the intensity of the judge’s gaze.

“Miss Carter, Mr. Barnes has every right to parental rights, should Charlotte Carter be his true kin. He has no run ins with the law, he has a full time job, and his urine test was clean.”

“I don’t care about all of that,” she whined, looking to her lawyer who hadn’t said a word this entire time. He looked like a lumpy sofa. “I don’t want him around my daughter!”

“Sit down, Miss Carter, before I have you ejected from my courtroom,” Judge Wilson said through gritted teeth. Peggy sat down hard and crossed her arms like a toddler. “Your opinion on Mr. Barnes does not matter. His legal rights stand, should the results be in his favor.”

“Your honor?” you spoke softly, putting up your hand. “May I interject?” “Proceed,” he replied.

“With all due respect, your honor, we’re simply here for the results of the DNA test. Once we find out if Charlotte Carter is his daughter, we can arrange for another court hearing regarding paternal rights. My client has been waiting for this for a long time, sir.”

“Understandable, please sit.”

You sat down, taking Bucky’s hand under the table once more. His other free hand was chewing on his thumb nail. Leaning over, you whispered in his ear.

“Whatever happens,” you said, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered back, producing a soft, side smile.

“In the case of Charlotte Carter,” Judge WIlson said, opening up the file in front of him again, rustling around some papers before he found the one he was looking for. Both of you held your breath, time almost moving in slow motion. “I’m sorry to say that Mr. Barnes, you are not her father.”

You watched the color drain from Bucky’s cheeks, watched the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. You squeezed his bicep, rubbing your hand along his back. Glancing at Peggy, she was smiling so wide, yet still so evilly.

“Your honor,” you said quickly standing up. “I had another one of my clients also take a DNA test on the same day that Mr. Barnes did, regarding the parentage of Charlotte Carter. May I ask if it is in the file?”

Judge Wilson looked through the folder, while you glanced back at Steve. You made direct eye contact with him now, his icy blue eyes piercing your soul. Peggy was making clucking noises from across the room, so shocked she couldn’t produce clear words.

“It is…”

“If I’m not being too bold, your honor, may I ask that you read off Steve Rogers’ DNA results?”

“This is an outrage!” Peggy screamed. Her lawyer continued to sit like a dust bunny, his eyes darting from you to the judge. “This is not what I came here for!”

Judge Wilson ignored her completely. You had already discussed this. Bucky and Steve were staring at each other now, unblinking. Your hands were sweaty, as Judge Wilson straightened out the paper and began to read.

“In the case of Charlotte Carter,” he began, before looking up at Steve at the back of the courtroom. Steve was now standing, waiting on baited breath. “Steve Rogers, you are the rightful father.”

There was silence in the courtroom after the results were read. Bucky and Steve continued to stare at one another. Peggy was crying. Her lawyer was wiping his greasy face with a handkerchief from his pocket. Judge Wilson slammed his gavel and stood.

“I will see Mr. Rogers and Miss Carter back here in one month to discuss parental rights. Case dismissed.”

Bucky stood up quickly and walked to the back of the courtroom where Steve stood. They looked at one another for a brief moment, before taking each other into the biggest bear hug you’d ever seen. Your heart was finally at a stand still, as everything was revealed. Although you knew Bucky was sad that Charlotte wasn’t his, you knew he was happy that everything worked out in his best friend’s favor.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky said, taking his friend’s face in his hands, before slapping his shoulders. “I’m so glad she’s yours.”

“Me too, man. Me too…” Steve replied, slapping Bucky’s shoulder in return.

Bucky turned back to you and picked you up, spinning you around. He planted one long, hard kiss on your lips, before brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“You,” he said, kissing your nose. “Are an angel.”

“It was nothing…” you said, waving him off. “I just wanted the truth out.”

Steve stepped forward and grabbed you in a big hug.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he whispered in your ear. “Thank you for making me see.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a smile, before looking over at Peggy. She was sitting alone at the table still, her lawyer long gone. “I think you should go talk to her…”

“Yeah…” Steve said, squeezing your hand. “See you later.”

Steve waved to you and Bucky, before walking up to the front of the courtroom and tapping Peggy on the shoulder. She was crying, and Steve wrapped her in his arms to comfort her.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” you asked, wrapping your arm around Bucky’s leaning your head on his arm.

“I think so,” he replied, kissing the top of your hand. “I think we all will.”

And after everything that had happened over the past couple months, you finally believed him.

@howlingbarnes @bovaria @marvel-ash @sebbytrash @mamapeterson @candyrogers @4theluvofall @therealjamesbarnes @mellifluous-melodramas @hymnofthevalkyries @hating-life-rn @metalarmproblems @bemystucky @givemethatgold @mrs-lamezec @crownie-sr @justareader @danimuhle @simplycj @mcuimxgine @maybe-maj @lillian-paige @andhiseyesweregreen @nykitass @phoenix21love @specs15 @knittingknerdy @yaszx @alexx-in-wonderland123 @jfrank1048 @jmesbirk @amrita31199 @pinchecacahead @hollysleeps @anitavalija @takemetoneverland91 @beccaanne814-blog  @stank-tower   @helloitsgrc @waikimikey @dontstopwiththelyin @smileyparrots @fantasticimpaladoctor @smoothdogsgirl @lizhart1701 @dawn-phantomhive @aboxinthestars @jrubalcaba @langinator @shifutheshihtzu @caitsymichelle13 @nbbuck @palaiasaurus64 @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes @musichowler @pandarosita  @mcunderoos @lostinspace33 @ms-brown10 @sireanscall @vanillacrush @aweways @agentsofcap @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @storytelling-reader @colouredwater @sergeant-james-bbarnes @broby---dick  @imshalida @reniescarlett @siobhanrebecca @lbouvet @delicatecapnerd @marvel-lucy @eyeofdionysus @dontyouforgetaboutme @thewalkingmombie @38leticia @nightingaletradingco  @sarahmatthews7 @jodyri @yknott81 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @virtualenemygalaxy @pickylittlebitch @ishipmybed @kaaatniss @hearteyeseb @tori-medusa-belongs-to-bucky @likochkah @lilasiannerd @under-dah-sea @ijustwanttobepartofyourworld  @nebulaeofpie @literatec @sleepy-rad @hyp-rbxle @apeshit7x @j-bbarnes @gothicangeltas @brittanymcsharry @avengerofyourheart @midnightloverslie @feelmyroarrrr @aenna-4 @sailorchibimoonunicorn @missmalfoy1703 @emilyinwonderland3 @hellomissmabel @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @tf-is-fanfic @thiddlestoff @jennifers-bread @chocolatereignz @aqueenwithoutherkingx  @spnbuckytrash @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes @captainmqmeep @minaphobia @tinaferraldo @buckys-other-punk @d3wdrop @sammedrano @wintersthigh @nebulaeofpie @sound-the-siren @ailynalonso15 @buckybarnesbestbabe @lilacs-lavender @sarahfhealy  @starbucks1265 @maha-pambata-is-my-patronus @thyotakukimkim @bucky2-0 @addictionmarvel @wholocked397  @clumsygirl465 

[solaciummeae]

Tidal Waves They Rip Right Through Me; Tears From Eyes Worn, Cold, and Sad | Part 12

MOOD MUSIC

“Sam? Where are the others?” Jude asks in confusion, rising from his seat when Sam rushes in alone. He looks over at Myranda who shrugs at him before they both look at the younger Winchester in front of them.

The taller hunter doesn’t bother with his question, only looking at Jude with skepticism as he notices a stranger in the room with him. “Where’s Emma?” He demands quickly, his eyes scanning for any signs of trouble. His eyes keep coming back to the woman who he doesn’t recognize. “And who’re you?” He questions harshly, already upset with Jude for letting strangers in the house when they weren’t home.

“Myranda–” She barely gets out before Sam shakes his head dismissively. He looks to Jude expectantly.

Jude can’t figure out what has Sam so wound up but puts his hands up defensively. “She’s upstairs in her room.”

Sam doesn’t wait for more information, he immediately goes jogging up the stairs leaving the two behind. He knocks on Emma’s door before pushing it open to find no one in sight. The panic in him instantly skyrockets. “Emma?” He calls into the dark empty room. No answer. “Emma?!” He calls loud enough so that if she is in the house, there’s no way she can’t hear him.

A small voice replies only his own name coming from down the hallway in his bedroom. He flies down and opens the door to find Emma curled up in a ball against his headboard. She looks as though she hasn’t moved from the same spot in days– maybe even as long as it had taken him to get back here. His feet carry him over to her and he pulls her into her arms. “Hey…” He breaks the silence softly. “What’s goin’ on?” He offers, holding her more tightly. He’s already furious. He doesn’t know how she can be in such terrible shape and the idiot downstairs can act so casual. As soon as Emma is okay, he’d make a point to ask him what the hell happened.

Emma shakes her head, hiding her face in his shirt. “Is she still here?” She asks sadly, gripping the fabric in her hands. Most of the time, people don’t scare her anymore– or at the very least– intimidate her. But whenever Myranda is around– which has now become a daily occurrence– she feels small– insignificant.

“Who?” Sam asks, his voice remaining gentle. He has a feeling he already knows exactly who she’s talking about which only causes his heart rate to quicken.

“M-Myranda.” She finally stutters, feeling ashamed that the woman could have such enormous power over her.

“Talk to me, Em, what happened?” Sam urges, pulling away so he can look her in the eyes. He gives her a smile of reassurance as if to let her know that he’s not going to let anything happen to her now.

Emma launches into the entire story beginning to end about how Adam had shown up, that he was her son from the future– an angel vessel, that Jude was his father, that they’d been fighting, and how Myranda had shown up and basically never left. She’s almost too scared to tell him how Myranda was treating her, which was probably the worst part.

“Tell me the rest Emma, come on– don’t leave anything out, okay?” He encourages her, even as his mind swims over all the information that she’s just given him. It was a lot, but he needed to know everything before he could handle the problem properly.

“She’s just done things– I don’t like her–” She tries her best to dismiss it, feeling stupid for even being upset.

“What did she do?” He coaxes, reaching up to comb his fingers through her hair.

“She acts like some kind of angel when she’s around Jude, pretends to be nice to me even– but always treats me like some kind of child– like some kind of patient.” She pauses, finding it difficult to force it all out. “When he left her with me once– it was like she flipped a switch. She just started coming at me about how I didn’t deserve someone like Jude– guys like him weren’t meant to be with little girls like me.” She stops to close her eyes before going on. “She told me I was too sick to even take care of myself and that I was a pretty pathetic excuse for a person– dead weight– a liability–” She recites the very words that had been said to her. “And then– she told me I was just plain crazy and asked me how anyone could love that?” She finishes brokenly.

Sam’s blood is boiling. He’s so beyond angry that he has to remind himself not to overreact. Emma can feel everything he’s feeling and he needs to stay strong for her. Still, he can’t allow this person to stay in their home a second longer. He presses a firm kiss to Emma’s forehead and makes direct eye contact. “Stay here okay, I’m going to be right back. I just need to take care of something first.” He tells her firmly, with a slow nod.

Emma nods back, fully trusting in every word he says. She watches him swiftly leave the room and hears his feet heavily jog back down the stairs. She already knows what he’s doing but it causes more fear within her than relief.

Sam makes it down to the living room where the other two sit laughing about something he’d entered too late to hear. It elicits a bitter laugh of his own, forced and painfully so. He drops his head, giving it a strained shake just as they both look up to him. He makes direct eye contact with Myranda. His face is so calm– save the sneer– it almost makes the dangerously low tone of his voice that much more menacing.

“I want you gone– now. And if you ever so much as set foot in a three mile radius of this place or anywhere near Emma for that matter– you’ll have whole lotta angry hunters so far up your ass you’ll have shotguns coming out of that pretty mouth o’ yours that just doesn’t know when to shut up.” He threatens, not taking her eyes off of her.

“Excuse me?” Myranda asks, giving him an unimpressed stare with her mouth hanging open.

“Sam– come on–” Jude attempts, feeling as though he has an idea of where this was coming from. Emma had tried to tell him that she didn’t like Myra and had made up some pretty awful stuff to boot. He’d of course read Myra’s mind to see if there was any truth to it but had found nothing.

“How dare you? You’ve got some kind of nerve showing up here and prancing around like you own the place. This is her home. You’re an uninvited– matter of fact– unwanted house guest– and Emma? She’s more of a woman than you’ll ever be– and a damn good hunter at that.” His eyes narrow. “Kindly see yourself out and if that door smacks your pretentious ass on the way out– even better.”

“Sam– I don’t know what Emma told you but– its not true.” Jude defends, shaking his head and bringing his arms up to calm the older man down.

“Shut up Jude–” Sam barks furiously before a scoff comes from him. “–I can’t believe you would actually call her a liar… Don’t worry– you’re staying just long enough to see the consequences of your own stupidity.”

Jude’s head is spinning with confusion. He looks at Myranda who doesn’t seem at all taken aback about this nor does she seem to disagree with any of it. “Myra–?” He stutters, hoping she’ll speak up and correct Sam– but she doesn’t.

Myranda smirks, her eyes flashing to the floor and back up again. “Didn’t tell her anything she shouldn’t already know– but don’t worry– I was getting sick of this dump anyway.”

“Get. Out.” Sam orders, pointing toward the door.

Jude just stands there, completely unaware of what he was supposed to do. It was like the woman beside him had switched to someone else entirely. He watches her pack up her things, not at all bothered by the tongue lashing she’d just received. He feels as though his whole body freezes at the thought that maybe he’d been played the whole time. “But how– I read you– there was nothing…”

Myranda snorts as she slings her bag over her shoulder. She looks on him as if he too is just a child so innocent and naive to the way the real world worked. “Oh honey– you’re not the first psychic I’ve encountered– not even the first one I’ve slept with–” She pauses with a shrug of her lips that mirrors the movement of her shoulders. “You’re not as difficult to block out as you think– I changed the truth so many times you didn’t even know what hit you.” She sighs to let him know just how little he’s meant to her this whole time. With that, she walks across the room, halting just a she passes Sam. “Your threats don’t scare me– everyone knows you’re the soft Winchester anyway.” She coos, before walking out the front door with a loud slam.

Jude looks at Sam helplessly. “Sam– I didn’t know–”

“Ya think?” He replies with a snort of his own.

“Please just let me talk to her–”

Sam just isn’t concerned with letting Jude say anything right now. “You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her. But I’m gonna let you apologize– see the damage you’ve caused– and then we’ll let Emma decide if you get to stay.” He informs him. “And don’t think I don’t know everything. She told me all about Adam– which makes this even worse…what is wrong with you? You’d go to hell for her but wouldn’t listen when she tried warned you were messing with the wrong person?”

Jude just allows himself to be reamed by the other man. The full weight of what he’d done is starting to set in and he can’t help but agree with every word from Sam. He can’t believe he’d actually fallen for it. The idea that he’d even kissed her seemed so repulsive now– but it had gone so much further than that. He feels dirty– the kind that no matter how many showers he takes– isn’t going to leave him anytime soon. He only nods to show his acceptance. “I promise I won’t stay– I just need to see her.”

Sam gestures toward the stairs to his left. “Well then– by all means– after you. She’s in my room– not hers.” He makes a point to prove just how wrong the blonde had been the whole time.

Jude makes his way around the coffee table, keeping his eyes glued to the floor even as he reaches the second story. He walks down the hallway, knocking on the door as he clenches his eyes shut waiting for her to answer.

Emma– having heard the whole thing from where she was– shies away even as the door opens, letting the light from the hallway into the room. She doesn’t want to look at him because his own potent emotions are too suffocating. Its everything she would hope he would feel to show remorse– but its also enough to cause the tears to fall down her cheeks again.

He knows she doesn’t want to see him. Whereas he’s sure she senses every bit of guilt ridden regret coming from him– he too can feel the restrained pain radiating from her. Its enough to choke him and make it almost impossible to move closer but he forces himself to sit beside her on the bed. “E-Emma?” He tries to speak, his voice all but escaping his control. “I know I messed up– really bad…” He clears his throat, finally bringing his eyes to meet her crumpled up figure sitting a foot away from him on the mattress.

He has to wait before trying to talk again because he’d had no clue that it had gotten this bad. She’s obviously been up here in the dark for a long time, and he’s beginning to realize he can’t remember the last time he even saw her eat.

“I’m gonna go, okay? You don’t have to see me for a long time if you don’t want to– but I just had to–” He falters. Telling her he’s sorry seems a poor amends for this kind of betrayal– something he seemed to have a knack for when it came to her. He’d called her a liar– he’d accused her of being childish and jealous when she’d tried to warn him about Myranda.

“I’m sorry– and whatever she said to you– its not true.” He feels as though the longer he apologizes, the more its just not enough. “I love you– even if it’ll never be enough for what I did– I need you to know that.” He inhales a shallow breath. “I could never love anyone else the way I am so in love with you.” He confesses intently. He just wants to reach out and touch her, but he knows he has no right.

Emma keep her eyes hidden so he can’t see the devastation they hold. She wants so desperately to believe him. Just from reading his thoughts and emotions, she knows that he means every word that he says. Somehow, it still doesn’t fix the damage done. Even her heart that beats so slowly in her chest now seems to ache in a way she didn’t think was possible. Of everyone that had ever left her– no one had been what Jude was to her. Its almost ironic because for a long time she’d never thought she’d love anyone this much ever again after the others. But Jude? She loves him more. Her heart pleads with her mind to just tell him to stay but she can’t.

He inhales a shaky breath, unable to stop himself from leaning over to kiss the top of her head even as she flinches. He stands and makes his way out of the room to go downstairs to gather his stuff– passing Sam at the door.

Sam enters the room just as Jude leaves. So maybe he wasn’t psychic anymore like either of them. However, it occurs to him that Jude really was played and he softens– not enough to let him stay but he feels for him nonetheless. For Emma’s sake, he needed to leave. It was going to take a lot of work to bring her back from this one. He’s just glad that it was him that came back ahead of the other two. He’s not even sure how he’s supposed to explain all of this to his brother or Bobby because they’d cut him off every two seconds.

For now, he focuses on Emma– giving her what she needs. He pads back over to the bed and sits down, using his own strong arms to pull her back to himself. Just as she forms to his body, she begins sobbing violently. “Its okay, I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay, Em.” He whispers, kissing her temple and keeping a protective hold around as much of her own body as he can manage with his arms.

She doesn’t even make an effort to hold back when Sam returns to her. She just completely falls apart in his arms. Her mind is shooting off thoughts rapid fire even through the ridicule and maniacal laughing above her own voice. She feels as though she’s been holding in this pain since that first day when Jude had outed her to Myranda. Likewise, she can feel the pressure building up to point where she just can’t keep it in anymore. All at once, she releases it like a shock wave of energy and emotion.

Jude, who’d been downstairs making his getaway as quickly as possible, can’t block out the thoughts he hears coming from upstairs. He wants to remain in Sam’s head– the other hunter feeling a much stable place to be, but Emma may as well be screaming in her own. His eyes already burn with tears as he listens to her promise herself that she’ll never fall in love again, that she’d rather die alone, and worst of all– that she doesn’t want to see him ever again. Really, her thoughts alone are enough to bring him to his knees.

A moment later though, he’s hit with a blast from her that causes him to double over in pain– crying out softly. Its enough to cause him to grip at his chest as though he’ll be able stop the destruction in his chest. His eyes squeeze shut waiting for it to subside but it just pulses through him. Something tells him that he might not be so effected if it weren’t for his own feelings for her– for the deeper connection that they shared.

His forces himself to stand upright, opening his eyes even as his own tears spill over the rims of them. He grabs his duffle bag, barely able to lift it from the nuclear bomb of grief that just went through his entire body. He can’t even look back in her direction so he presses on, leaving through the front door. He makes his way over to his bike, even though he knows he shouldn’t be driving it.

He straps his bag into place and straddles the seat, allowing himself to take a few deep breaths before lifting the kick stand and revving the motor. He takes off, determined to find the nearest motel so he can sleep off the fatigue he feels after what he just experienced.

He wonders if he’ll ever see her again. More over he knows– if she can never forgive him– she won’t be the only one who never loves again.

[torentialtribute]

Aston Villa news: Dean Smith says he can’t walk his dog at 6:30am without being stopped for a photo

When he was 16, Dean Smith cycled on his way to Villa Park working in a paint factory . During the early 6 o'clock team in the morning, he thought about his chances of ever playing for his favorite football club.

& # 39; It was a full-time job, but I only saw it as temporary, & he said. & # 39; I just wanted to be a footballer and play for Aston Villa . & # 39;

They were big dreams, too big because it happened. Smith has never drawn on burgundy and blue.

Aston Villa boss Dean Smith sent his boys club back to the Premier League

"I was not good enough, it was that simple," he said.

But last season he achieved the following best. He became the manager of a club whose famous colors run like a river through his family and on Saturday he is back on the sidelines as Villa opposite Tottenham as a Premier League side.

& # 39; With my family and my friends I am what I used to be, a fan, & Smith told & # 39; on Thursday Sportsmail . & # 39; But I have to park it at work.

& # 39; So there will be a lot of emotional control going on in Tottenham, even if I know deep down, the hairs in my neck will be upright. & # 39;

In the window of the Smith office on the club's training ground is a graceful Villa emblem. Frames on the stairs contain photos of the successes of the club League and European Cup of the early 1980s. His walls were white when he got his job in October 2018, but are now clear and blue.

Some managers run from the past of a club when they arrive.

Smith's father was 25 years of steward in the Trinity Road Stand. He used to show President Doug Ellis in his seat. Smith's neighbor as a child was Pat Heard, a replacement when Villa won the European Cup final against Bayern Munich in 1982. Smith's father didn't let him go to that game, but Heard made sure he was on the bus while he paraded the trophy through Birmingham the next day.

& # 39; I saw the life that Pat had and I have always wanted that, & # 39; Smith recalled. "I think I worked very hard to get it and I want my players here to embrace it as I try.

Smith & # 39; s father was a steward for 25 years and showed the chairman to his seat

& # 39 You soon realize that this club means a lot. History will always be there, but I told these players last season that they could make themselves legends by promoting. It's now our job to create more history. & # 39 ;

Villa will tackle the top division with a team strengthened by eight signing sessions. been ambitious approach to Smith and Villa & # 39; s Spanish sports director Jesus Garcia Pitarch.

From a distance it seems a bit risky. Too much change can take as much of a team as it gives. Smith disagrees.

& # 39; Two days after the last play-off we all sat down and agreed that it was important that the players who were an integral part of promoting us and who had the connection with the supporters restored, stayed and were made to feel important, & he said.

& # 39; We did that. We still have that Villa heartbeat in the dressing room, absolutely. & # 39;

& # 39; s play-off heroes were largely retained prior to the return of the Midlands side of the flight

Smith was, he claims, a modest footballer for 16 years as a central defender at Walsall, Hereford, Orient, Sheffield Wednesday and Port Vale. Significantly, however, he was captain at every club he played for.

& # 39; Sometimes people see things in you that you don't see in yourself, & # 39; he mused.

Skipper at Walsall at the age of 19, Smith was still the designated driver for Tuesday afternoon drinking sessions with Midlands football figures such as Villa European legends Gary Shaw and Dennis Mortimer – both played with Smith – and West Bromwich & # 39; s Cyrille Regis.

& # 39; Gary Shaw had many injuries, but what a player, & # 39; Smith recalled. & # 39; We trained in the parking lot on Friday. It was an up and down slate surface, but the touch was incredible. We would have a drink and I was a captain, but on those occasions I was the one who listened to guys like Cyrille and Ally Robertson and Derek Statham. I spent a lot of time with Cyrille. A sad loss when he died. Such a & # 39; n real person.

& # 39; Mind you, I played against him for Orient against Chester and he had something like & # 39; Whack! & # 39; Straight in my stomach. Nice to see you too, Cyrille. & # 39;

NOW THEY HAVE ALL COVERED BASE …

Aston Villa has signed 12 new players this summer, who are taking enough positions to complete a full to form a new team and space for another replacement …

KEEPER Tom Heaton (£ 8m, Burnley)

DEFENDERS Tyrone Mings ( 26.5m, Bournemouth) Ezri Konsa (£ 12m, Brentford) Bjorn English (£ 7m, Stade Reims) Kortney Hause (£ 3m, Wolves)

MIDFIELDERS Matt Targett (£ 15m, Southampton) Douglas Luiz (£ 12.5 m, Man City) Marvelous Nakamba (£ 10.75 m, Bruges) Trezeguet (£ 8.75 m, Kasimpasa) Jota (£ 4 m + Gary Gardner, Birmingham) Anwar El Ghazi (not made public, Lille)

FORWARD Wesley Moraes (£ 22m, Bruges)

Smith & # 39; s first taste of coaching was like a Assistant Linguist of Martin Ling in Orient in 2005. When they were fired after four years, he felt it was a death in the family. He is currently on the League Managers Association committee alongside the likes of Sir Alex Ferguson, David Moyes, Sam Allardyce, Chris Hughton and Howard Wilkinson as the only one still working.

"My motivation has always been to prove people wrong, & # 39; he said. & # 39; As a 17-year-old I was told by one of my managers that I would never be in front of a group being able to stand and speak. That stayed with me. I wanted to show him.

& # 39; I want to be completely consistent. I learned more from the coaches I didn't like from those who I did when I identified the things they did that I had to throw away. I want to be the manager I would like to be managed by.

& # 39; For example, I don't want to be high if we win and low if we lose, players don't want to see that, they want consistency from me if I want to get it back from them After a game, I don't think I can change anything, so I'm not in the dressing room for 20 minutes. well done, good luck and then I'm gone.

The villa owner was not afraid to admit" his motivation has always been to prove people wrong & # 39;

& # 39; As an assistant I did not have the best emotional control. At Orient, I was more furious with players and I learned that you can't be that way because you need them the next game. Do not hit a fight that you do not have to use. Problems will always find you as a manager, so don't look for them. & # 39;

Smith has a reputation for being friendly and it certainly seemed that way on Thursday. He says that his favorite environment is the training field, but believes that the responsibility of a coach should not start and end on the grass.

& I don't care what job you're in – soccer or a factory – these people are all people with different emotions, sensitivities and lives away from work, & he said. It is my job to get the best out of it, so I need to know things like this. I see the job as the entire spectrum.

I love coaching, improving people. But it is the mental side that pushes these guys and if you don't get connected to them, players can easily decide that they won't work for you. & # 39;

Smith eventually made his reputation as a manager at Walsall and then Brentford. However, last year's move to Villa was an important step that was only taken after consultation with his family.

The 48-year-old knew that his modest, relatively quiet life would change and he was ready. But he was worried, for example, about how his daughter would manage at school if Villa didn't win.

& # 39; I know how many Villa fans there are and I knew that my family's life was about to come in the spotlight, & he said.

Smith has previous management experience on both Walsall and second-rate Brentford

& # 39; I had to make sure they liked it. They were all: "Yes!" My daughter said she can handle it and we had my son on FaceTime from America and he was the same.

& # 39; He came to the play-off game and flew home drunk. So far it has succeeded! & # 39;

Smith has spoken extensively and courageously about the dementia of his father Ron. Smith Snr lives in home care and, despite the regular visits of the Villa manager, does not know that his son is in charge of the football club that means so much to him.

Mother, Hilary, is central to Smith's thoughts today. Mrs. Smith was recently interviewed at her main street location in Great Barr by a TV crew. Looking for a reaction to the success of Villa, the reporter did not know that he was talking to the manager's mother.

& # 39; She was just shopping, & # 39; smiled Smith. & # 39; That clip apparently has 90,000 views, but it won't know what that means.

The 48-year-old tribute to his mother and father and their influence behind his success

& Mother, father and brother were proud of me in Hereford as they are today.

& # 39; My dad never drove, so mom would drive us to away games in a yellow Vauxhall Live when I was a kid. She has treated my father's disease well in general.

& # 39; She did not want to accept it at first. She said he had always been forgetful. I finally told him to go to the doctors. I had a drink with him in the admiral – our old place – a few years ago and he went to the bathroom and just didn't come back. He was confused and just went home without me. Heartbreaking.

& # 39; After the diagnosis, she wanted to take care of him and always said she coped. But in the end she broke into me and I said, "That's right."

& # 39; That was hard for mom, admitting he had to go to a house. Nobody ever wants to do that, does it? But he's been happy there and he's where he needs to be. It also gives my mother her life back. & # 39;

Smith's life has changed wholesale in the last 10 months since he took over the leadership of Villa

As far as Smith & # 39; s life is concerned, it has changed dramatically over the past 10 months, as he knew. Even walks with his dog Charlie – provided by Hilary on competition days – are not the same.

& # 39; I created the club before I came because I know, but if you fill gas and people want a photo, it'll be different, & he smiled.

& # 39; I'm trying to be a normal guy. I walk the dog at half past five, but then another dog out wants a photo. That's really incredible, right? I have always enjoyed a pint with my friends, but that is now a logistical nightmare. & # 39;

Of course it all belongs to the territory and it is a territory that Smith knows well. He is where he wants to be, in the club that has always been at the front and center of the family.

& # 39; Just walking to this place is enough for me, & # 39; he said, casting his eyes out the window

& # 39; I smile as soon as I see that club badge on the gate. & # 39;

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[mrmichaelchadler]

Thumbnails 1/14/19

Thumbnails is a roundup of brief excerpts to introduce you to articles from other websites that we found interesting and exciting. We provide links to the original sources for you to read in their entirety.—Chaz Ebert

1. 

"OUT 100: Emma González, Newsmaker of the Year": The phenomenal young gun control activist spoke with our own Monica Castillo for Out Magazine.

“Not everyone celebrated the arrival of a bold and confident queer Latinx woman on the national stage. Almost immediately after González’s first public appearances, trolls began attacking her online. In a Facebook post, Congressman Steve King’s campaign (R-Iowa) linked her to communist Cuba for wearing a patch of the country’s flag on her jacket. González, whose father is Cuban, defended herself and cited the elected official’s racist comments. ‘If somebody’s trying to challenge my Cuban identity, they are usually — if not obviously — racist,’ she said. ‘Look at the things he said, and what he called me. What he said was bottom-of-the barrel. He was not even trying. He went out of his way lots of times to call out various people and say things about minority groups.’ To González, identity is fluid and more encompassing than basic labels. ‘Identity to me means the way that you describe yourself when someone says, ‘Describe yourself,’’ she explains. ‘If I were to describe my identity, I would say that I am half Cuban, I’m bald, I’m bisexual, I’m 5-foot-2, I like to write, I like to partake in the arts, and I like to crochet. I would hope that if I were introducing myself to somebody, through those things, they would be able to get an understanding of who I am.’”

2. 

"Does Erasing Cyber-Reality Erase Our Actual Reality?": A personal essay evocative of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," penned by Emma Olsson for Eileen Kelly's excellent site, Killer And A Sweet Thang.

“I think social media provides us with this peculiar way of storytelling, and perhaps it’s narcissistic, but the story is our own. I want to one day be able to look back at those odd little squares and read their stories of a time when I was 19 and 20 and 21 and in love for the first time. They hold deep connections to a memory, but they don’t necessarily signal a longing for a person. At least not for me. Something about the mourning of deleted pictures feels like a parody of our times. It’s impossible to imagine this scenario outside of a modern, digital context. In a time when online and offline lives are rich enough to be distinguished from each other, the act of removing little pieces of evidence from this online space feels particularly jarring. A deleted photo translates into something much deeper in meaning, to the deletion of proof of our existence together. I’d always tried to hold myself to the doctrine that one day, after the hurt had softened, I’d be able to look back on photos and relive the memories with gratitude. That I’d be able to see the soft things, the beautiful and happy things, not only the sad. Photos are potent in that way, and I hoped (and still do) to feel neither removed from this person nor bound to him. I hoped to just feel grateful, and it hurt me to think that he didn’t feel the same. That he wanted to cut me out of his memory — even if just on social media.”

3.

"'What 'Moonlight' Gave Us Was the Confidence to Execute Our Ideas Without Fear': Writer/Director Barry Jenkins on 'If Beale Street Could Talk'": A wonderful interview with the Oscar-winning director conducted by Jim Hemphill for Filmmaker Magazine.

“We treat the sound the same way we treat the cinematography, which is with the idea that it should be a reflection of the main character’s consciousness. In terms of the cinematography, when Tish is remembering the more beautiful and tender times with Fonny, those scenes are overly lush and overly saturated because they function as memory — when we remember things, we don’t remember them as a documentary. There’s more light in the flashbacks, and much more shadow in the present-day scenes, where Tish and Fonny are in a kind of purgatory. As far as the sound goes, when I’m making a film, I’m not just considering the screen — I’m considering the house, the actual environment where the audience is going to watch the movie. One of the things we decided right away was that the voice-over narration in the film needed to be experienced in a different way than the dialogue, so if you’re sitting in an auditorium it feels like you’re inside her head. Her voice is coming from all around the room, whereas the dialogue is coming from the front channel, and it’s a very different effect. In other scenes we would stoke up the reverb and things like that, just to reflect what the characters are feeling.”

4. 

"Becoming parents completely changed who we are": A beautiful letter from Mary Barnes to her husband, published at Motherly.

“These are the parenting trenches. The baby years. These years can make or break us. And can I be so bold as to say: I think they're making us. They're making us learn how to communicate better. How to find common ground when we disagree about real stuff, like the ways we want to raise our children. We're invested in not only the outcome but the short term effect. We're a team. They're making us think about the future. Not just the fun stuff, but the difficult stuff like estate planning, life insurance, and college funds for the kids. They're making us challenge ourselves to provide our children with comfort and opportunities. We've always worked hard but the stakes have never been this high. You know I'm the optimist, the dreamer, while you consider yourself the realist—but I think we can agree on this: going through some of the tough stuff with you by my side has shown me that we are stronger than the tough stuff. We can get through it. We can get through anything. As long as we hold on to each other. Motherhood transformed me. Fatherhood transformed you. And having kids completely transformed our marriage. We'll never be who we were on our wedding day again. Time marches forward—only forward. I miss the carefree version of ‘us,’ but I love this version even more. Because we know what we're made of now, and in so many ways we didn't before.”

5. 

"Independent films screened at Oakton College's annual pop-up: 'The festival is all about broadening horizons'": Our contributor Donald Liebenson reports on Michael Glover Smith's indispensable festival for the Chicago Tribune. 

“Josephine Decker’s ‘Madeline’s Madeline’ that was screened during the film festival is the type of film that Smith says he envisioned when he launched the free event. ‘I wanted to show independent and experimental films that are exciting and a little bit challenging; movies that are different from what typically would play (at the local multiplex),’ Smith said. ‘The festival is all about broadening horizons.’ Smith, himself, is the author of ‘Flickering Empire,’ which chronicled the untold story of Chicago’s silent film industry, and the film blog ‘White City Cinema.’ He has also directed two film festival award-winning productions: ‘Cool Apocalypse’ and ‘Mercury in Retrograde.’ The filmmaker and instructor said he was inspired to start the ‘Pop-Up’ festival after inviting Harold Ramis’ wife Erica to speak to his student about a documentary she had produced on The Joffrey Ballet. ‘She is the daughter of the late film producer and director Daniel Mann, and she talked about growing up in that household, her life with Harold and being on his film sets,’ Smith said. ‘But it was in a classroom of 12 people, and I thought this was a conversation that should be held in an auditorium and open to the public.’”

Image of the Day

Chris Elliott is the latest amazing guest on Sam Fragoso's essential "Talk Easy" podcast, with illustrations by our Far Flung Correspondent Krishna Shenoi. Click here for the full conversation.

Video of the Day

Not only did Glenn Close's acceptance speech for her surprise win in the Best Actress (Drama) category for her brilliant performance in "The Wife" bring the Golden Globes audience to its feet, it could also very likely help the actress win her very first Oscar. And boy is she well overdue for one.

from All Content http://bit.ly/2SQvyIQ