#also i trust jared bc he knows sam better than any of us and he’s a bottom!sam mpreg!sam truther <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[lambmotifz]

god bless you for the bottom sam renaissance <3

tbh i wouldn’t exactly call it a renaissance because bottom!sam is still extremely underrated (i’m talking about adult sam not teen sam btw) but thank you?

[biavastarr]

Co-Workers

Pairing: steve rogers x you (fem!reader)

Warnings: language, mild (?) violence, injuries, inaccurate medical descriptions, inaccurate passage of time

Word Count: 3,968

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of the media or characters mentioned in this story.

Author’s Notes: okay so this is my first fic that I’ve written since seventh/eighth grade and since the theme is nostalgia and I’m the writer who has the power to do whatever I want I’m gonna disregard like half of canon and make this fic post-Civil War except they all got along and everyone’s alive and happy and Pietro and Bucky are living at the tower too and it’s not the compound mainly bc I want it to be in the city. reader is an ex-SHIELD agent who joined the Avengers like a month ago bc she’s been on the run since it fell. I just,, I love them both. I’m definitely being overindulgent and this is way too much exposition for stuff I don’t think really gets mentioned.

this is for @whirlybirbs and her endgame writing challenge, the nostalgic thing in this being the innocent “they all lived in the tower together” era that I loved so much. this is my first time writing for Marvel but I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Being a former SHIELD agent left you with a lot of walls that a certain blonde super-soldier is all too good at tearing down.

This mirror, you decided, has got to go. You were staring at yourself from ten different angles and the A.I. was reciting a full rundown of your skincare routine and it was quite frankly creeping you out. Ever since you moved in to Stark Tower last month, Tony had been trying to charm you with increasingly technologically enhanced appliances and you were starting to feel like Belle, what with having to tell your fridge that no, you are not hungry but thank you for the concern.

You carefully smoothed over your dress, a black, crushed-velvet thing with a high neck and flowing sleeves, a cinched waist, and wide skirt that fell delicately at your knee. If you could appreciate one thing about the mirror, you mused, you could admit that it let you know you look damn good. You slipped on a pair of pumps and left your little pseudo-apartment as quietly as you could manage, praying that your years of SHIELD training didn’t fail you in your time of - dare you say desperate? - need.

Tragically, as though the gods themselves had it out for you - you’d curse Thor for this later - you only managed to make it down the hall before delighted crowing from one genius billionaire playboy philanthropist made himself known. You turned slowly, bracing yourself for this inevitable interrogation-slash-please-be-friends-with-us speech. The man strolled over to you with a smirk on his face, Captain America himself trailing awkwardly behind him. Your heart fluttered pathetically at the sight of the blonde soldier. No, you reminded yourself sternly. Coworkers are coworkers.

Blissfully oblivious to your sour expression, Tony clasped your hand and spun you wildly, your dress flaring out around you. “Do my eyes deceive me, or are you finally gracing us acquaintances with your presence at movie night tonight?” He drawled out his comment, glancing far-too-knowingly at a certain slack-jawed supersoldier.

You winced, knowing that he’d just quoted you from a check-in report you had given Fury the other day that the other Avengers had found and pouted over. You didn’t have any specific issues with them, you knew, but they were your coworkers. The last time you had trusted the people you worked with, you had ended up with a gun to your head in a room full of Hydra members. It was easier - both for you and your heart - not to mix business with pleasure. That being said, you also knew that it’s never wise to be rude to a man who’s quite literally housing and paying you. Ever since SHIELD fell, Tony Stark had taken it upon himself to finance this whole initiative.

You sighed dramatically, faking a put-upon tone. “I suppose I can promote you all to glorified roommates, if you would like, but no, I’ve got a date.” Your eyes subconsciously drifted to Steve, drinking in his appearance as you admired his absurdly tight shirt straining over his chest.

At this, Tony lit up, his grin only widening further, eyebrows dancing high on his forehead. “Oh, really,” he questioned, “and with whom, may I ask, are you going out with? Can they really outmatch ole’ Capsicle here with his puppy eyes?” He winked at Steve, who was doing his best (which was not very successful) not to stare too deep into your eyes.

Smiling playfully, you pinched Tony’s cheek, laughing at the blush that painted his face in reaction. “Aw, Stark, that’s for me to know, and for you to never find out.” With a swish of your dress, you stepped around him, nodding kindly at a still-silent Steve Rogers, and entered the elevator.

As the doors closed, you waved shyly at the pair, trying not to think too hard about how none of the walls you had built, those defenses so painstakingly made, could ever really protect you from those incredibly blue eyes that still looked your way.

---

Steve hated when Pietro picked for movie nights. The last three time in a row had granted the Sokovian complete and utter control and he was dying, he was sure of it.

While they normally rotated turns, last week was what the Avengers had hoped to be your turn, but you had shrugged and said you had a mission, passing it off to Pietro, despite him literally picking the week before, not that Steve was still bitter about it or anything. Not at all. Tonight it was supposed to be Tony’s turn, but he had picked up on Steve’s exasperation with the speedster’s movie taste and gleefully handed the reins to Pietro once more.

Wiggling his eyebrows (ridiculously), Pietro popped the DVD for Not Another Teen Movie into the player, flopping down into the seat beside his sister with a bright grin. “Look, Captain,” his heavily accented voice drew Steve from his thoughts. “You may even like this one, it’s a play off all the other flicks we’ve been watching. Also, the guy who plays Jake is hot.” He winked unabashedly at Steve, who was now contemplating how hard it was to fake a heart attack if it meant he could leave the inevitable teasing that would come from tonight.

No, not because he was an “old man who can’t appreciate fine cinema” (Natasha’s cutting words after he said he didn’t particularly enjoy High School Musical 3), but because your absence meant that the others could safely - and loudly - tease him about you.

Bucky, whose metal arm was slung casually around the seat next to him, was currently bearing a shark-like grin, and Nat, who had draped herself across an entire half of the couch, much to Tony’s chagrin, had a smirk painted on her face as they watched everyone settle in, easily noting that you, like always, had elected not to come.

“Where’s our new recruit?” Wanda inquired with an air of fake innocence, oh, Wanda, not you too, not you, thought Steve in alarm, the young witch looking around as if she really needed to search for a person she knew was not attending.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? She’s got a date.” Tony said, drawing out the last word as if he treasured it dearly.

“No!” Wanda mock gasped. “How did I not know this!” She turned to Steve, the bowl of popcorn shifting dangerously in her lap. Sam nimbly scooped it up before it fell, and Tony mumbled something grateful about stains in his carpeting before stuffing his face with the buttery popped kernels. “Who’s she out with?”

Sam grinned at her slyly as he tossed a piece of popcorn at Natasha, watching her catch it deftly in her mouth. “It’s probably Pepper’s new assistant, Jared, I think? He’s always staring at her like she hung the moon or something, bet he finally got the balls to ask her out.”

Natasha shook her head incredulously. “No way, that kid is so nervous he rivals Steve in his eloquence around her, I swear. Maybe she met someone outside of the Tower. She does go out without us a lot.”

Steve flushed considerably, cursing his Irish skin for betraying him so. He tried to focus on the movie again, preferring the embarrassment of the whipped cream-covered protagonist to the current situation he was facing. “I do not get nervous around her,” he grumbled, more to himself than anything. Bucky’s head shot up at this, his damn super-hearing once again being the bane of Steve’s existence.

“Yeah, punk, and I don’t have an arm made of Vibranium,” Bucky snarked, throwing his metal hand up for emphasis. “What, like it’s just natural for you to fall off your chair mid-debriefing?” Steve, again, bemoaned his reddening state, doing his best to ignore the group around him smirking at the memory.

Sam patted his leg consolingly, having stretched out on the pillow-laden floor for better access to the snacks. “Look, man,” he started carefully, “you’ve just gotta say something, sometime. You don’t want to wait until it’s too late and you definitely don’t want to say it when you don’t mean to. She’s an Avenger, just like the rest of us, despite how much she tries to act like she’s not, and it’s not going to make life any less complicated for her if you’re stewing on feelings she doesn’t know about.”

Steve laughed a little disbelievingly. “What, you think I’ll tell her in the middle of battle? C’mon, man, give me some credit.” Sam rolled his eyes eerily in sync with Nat and Bucky.

“Alright, Rogers, whatever. Act like you don’t need us.”

---

Oh fucking hell, you thought, sprinting frantically through the streets of Paris as the city lights twinkled tauntingly above you.

Your date, as you had called it eighteen hours ago, was actually at a gala hosted by an arms dealer Fury suspected was Hydra, and now, with a gash carved across your leg and a head wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding, you felt that he had been quite justified.

Pausing for a moment in a flower-covered alcove, you held your breath, hoping that whoever had been tailing you had finally called it quits and moved on. You were tapping out a message on your phone, letting him know what went down, when you caught sight of the man tracking you.

Shit, you thought to yourself. It was the man whose very arm you had entered the gala on, and he was the most trusted goon of the suspect you had been investigating. You knew it was safer to head back to the Tower, check in with Maria and Fury, and then return for further evidence, especially considering the USB drive you had tucked into the pocket of your dress, but you had already gotten so much from this mission that you hadn’t expected and by god if you weren’t a relentless and slightly reckless pursuer of justice.

Narrowing your eyes as you continued to observe your oblivious pursuer, you opened up your purse, quickly wrapped your calf wound, and carefully slipped on the stealth suit and matching boots, packing away the dress and frowning slightly at the new tear in the seam. One of the surprise pains of being an Avenger was the tragically short lifespan of your closet.

Padding behind the man silently, you finished your message to Fury, punctuating it with the update of your plans to infiltrate whatever base the man was headed to. Breathing in deeply, you slid your phone into one of the straps across your thigh and winced slightly at the pain still screaming in your leg, hurrying on behind the burly man.

---

Maria groaned exasperatedly at the message blinking on her monitor, swinging her chair around to face Fury. “You see this?” She pointed at it in frustration, finding no other words for your stupidity.

“Fucking dumbass. She always does this. Thinks she can get all the motherfuckers out of sheer will.”

“God, I mean, she’s a good agent, but she has no regard for her personal safety. It is such a pain, Nick, I’m telling you, I’m going to get gray hair just from having to be her handler.” Maria tugged at her dark locks as if to display them for inspection. She and Nick both loved you, but they forgot how dumb it was to send you on a solo mission with no back-up; you were never sated with just satisfying mission objectives; with no one to stop you, you wouldn’t be finished with the job until at least an entire base was wiped out or you were carried away on a stretcher.

Nick shook his head and picked up his phone again, signalling to Maria that she needed to respond to you, well-aware that you’d ignore their protests anyways. Dialing his backup plan, he internally groaned at the voice that picked up.

“Hey, Stark. So I borrowed your new agent-”

---

Oh fucking hell, for real this time, you thought, wincing at the heavy manacles they left you in. You were a little grossed out that these things looked like they came out of a medieval torture museum, and had the rust to prove it, but you supposed that was a later issue. You had gotten your tetanus shot, you reminded yourself as a new grimace shook you when the metal dug painfully into your wrists.

No, your current issue were the two Hydra agents staring you down in the harshly lit room. You assumed it was the designated unwillful-interrogation room, but you clocked no less than three potential exit points, from the door to the vents to poorly concealed hollow panel you bet you could kick in with a hearty shove. Finishing your assessment of the room, you waited until one of the agents cleared their throat before turning back to them.

“Who do you work for?” His gruff voice ground out, grabbing the chain that kept your bulky cuffs suspended in the air. Your lips curled into an expression of disgust at his proximity.

“I mean, a) cliche line, seriously, and b) why do you even ask? If I’m from anywhere worth being from, it’s not like I’d tell you. Also, you guys should have, like, basic investigative skills. Facial recognition technology. Literally anything.”

The man growled again, rattling the chain as if he was trying to shake you around like a ragdoll. Your head swam and you were reminded of the blood draining out of you from a wound with an ever-slipping wrap.

Figuring that waiting longer would only worsen the situation, you yanked your arms up and wound the chain tightly around the agent, choking him out while his partner sprang up towards you. She shot straight at you through him, clearly not caring whether he survived this attack, but you launched yourself up and over his shoulders, snapping his thick neck with a twist of the chains. Angling your wrists up so that the next bullets hit the cuffs, you wriggled your hands out of the pinched, burning hot metal and lunged at her before she could react.

Scrabbling at her hands while trying to grab the gun, she managed to sling you over her shoulder so you landed with a thud on the ground. You kicked out at her feet and she fell heavily on top of you, but you flipped yourself over, straddling yourself over her hips. She tried to jerk her head up, but you dodged quickly, circling her throat with your hands and forcing your knee down on her thigh so you could follow the momentum and twist with a loud crack of her neck.

Letting her body slump to the ground, you dusted yourself off and looked around. Electing to exit via the vents, as it seemed to be the safest way to stay out of sight, you braced yourself against the chains hanging from the ceiling and pulled yourself up and out of the room.

---

“Barnes, Rogers, Romanoff, Wilson, c’mon, we’ve got a mission to ‘supplement,’ as Nick so delicately put it.” Tony was speedwalking through the common area, ignoring groans of protest as he smacked the whining assassins. “Shut up, Barnes, you can lose to Natasha at chess on the quinjet, we’ll have plenty of time on our way to Paris.”

“Paris?” Steve parroted, joining Tony at his side. “Does this have anything to do with the fact that this alleged ‘date’ has lasted a day and a half?”

“Relax, Cap, your girlfriend is fine-”

“She’s not my girlfrien-”

“Right, you wish!” Natasha cackled loudly, high-fiving Sam and Bucky while Steve turned and gave her the best kicked puppy expression he could. This only served to make them laugh more, and Steve once again questioned why he ever let these dorks - his dorks - all meet.

---

“Yes!” You whispered quietly to yourself, beaming at the storage room full of explosives you could see below you. Dropping down as quietly as you could manage, you let yourself land on the shoulders of the lone guard and knock him to the ground, stabbing him in the stomach with knife you had pulled out of your boots. Pausing once again to readjust the bandage you had tied around your leg, you let yourself lean against a crate for a moment, your vision wavering.

---

“Tony?” Natasha’s concerned voice rang out from the cockpit, causing everyone to worriedly look in her direction. “Was this base supposed to be on fire?”

Steve stood up and rushed to the windows, his own eyes confirming one of his biggest fears. He had a team member down there, and he didn’t know if she was alive or dead, and worst of all, he didn’t know what he could do to help her.

“Sam, Tony, you guys get out now. Fly over and try to get us visual on any activity going down. Let us know if, if you see her.” Steve shook his head at his stumble, pausing momentarily. “Bucky, Nat, as soon as we land this thing, we’re all going to split up. Cover as much ground as we can. Where’s our closest landing point?”

“I’ve got it, Cap, calm your beautiful, beefy-”

“Do not even finish that sentence right now.”

“Rogers that.”

“That doesn’t even work, Tony!”

---

It had been a whole 273 seconds since Steve had touched down on the ground and there was still no sign of you, and with the few Hydra agents stationed at this base being found dead or dropped already, this left his mind all too open to thinking up terrible situations that you could’ve found yourself in.

Don’t be ridiculous, he chided himself, the knocked out agents, the explosions are a good sign. She’s a capable agent; if she did that, she’s out here somewhere. He clenched his jaw in concern over the state of the base, though. He was guessing that it was you who blew it to near pieces, and rubble was still crumbling and settling. He just hoped he didn’t find you trapped under any of it.

Suddenly, a piercing scream curled out from around a corner, and he whipped his head in search of the chilling sound. Jogging into another collapsing room, he breathed a weighty sigh of relief upon discovering your bloody but intact body on the ground. He followed your horrified line of sight to discover a kevlar-clad severed leg, drenched in blood and soot.

He knelt before you, bringing your head to his chest and wrapping his arms gently around you, trying to quiet your panicked cries, though puzzled at the sight - as an agent and then Avenger, you certainly were no stranger to gore. Steve rocked you slightly, and your shrieks quieted enough for him to bring his face level with yours and search your eyes earnestly. You watched him, your face blank, as his large thumb brushed tenderly against your cheek, wiping the stray tears and dust from your face.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, “are you okay?” He took your hand in his, gingerly stroking the back of your hand in soothing circles, and you marveled at his soft touch despite the rough leather of his gloves.

“I,” you started helplessly, “I’m, uh.” Tears continued to escape you, and you tried to fight the humiliation of crying at work, no matter how grave your situation was. You nodded brokenly at the bloody calf across the room from you, hoping he would put two and two together, and your shoulders shook once more. Steve looked at you quizzically, fighting the urge to kiss your fluttering lashes until the unidentified pain went away.

“....What?”

“What do you mean what?”

“I, just, what?”

You wailed again, throwing up your hands in frustration and instinctively standing to go and show him yourself when suddenly you glanced down in wonder. No, your eyes did not deceive you, you were standing on the same two legs you had entered this mission with. “Oh, that’s not my leg!” You gestured excitedly at the limb you had mistaken for your own, glancing back at your own leg that had a matching gash down the back of the calf. “I had just assumed I couldn’t feel it because of shock, y’know, and-”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” Steve’s breath hitched as he realized what he just said. Oh god, he groaned internally, this isn’t technically in the middle of battle, but-

“What?” You were blinking, a lot, more so than what Steve thought was normal. He tried not to read too much into your eyes, those eyes he found himself lost in, prettily framed by those long lashes and holding a gaze he couldn’t understand.

Shit, his mind was racing, stumbling over his words once more. “I, uh, I don’t, um, know why? Why I said that? Oh, god, I mean, we’re not even there yet, not that I’m expecting you to have to be there, ever, oh god, I am so sorry, I’ll just-”

“Steve,” you cut in, gasping a little and clutching a ridiculously thick arm of his for balance. “Fuck, uh, my leg, my actual leg this time-” With a painful whine, your body toppled against his as you blacked out, warm blood still trickling down your calf.

---

You squinted your eyes open, trying to avoid the glaring fluorescent light the filled the room. The hospital room, you realized, turning your head with a wince to see a large window whose natural light was tragically obstructed by cream-colored blinds. You let your eyelids droop again, hoping that you could avoid the effort of revamping your lighting by just falling asleep, but you had no such luck. You settled for letting your gaze wander aimlessly around the area, which you assumed to be a local Parisian medical center and not the Avengers medbay you had yet to visit - Tony would never allow such an ugly tile pattern within fifty feet of his home.

Shifting carefully, all too aware of the throbbing pain that still burned in your leg, you looked to the other half of the room and stifled a gasp - the one and only Captain America was asleep at your side, leaning heavily to the side of his fragile-looking plastic chair. Your eyes fell to his still-gloved hand, which was clasped in your own, and you briefly wondered how out of it you were that you hadn’t noticed this immediately.

Dragging your free hand over to cradle his face, you called his name softly. Bleary-eyed and painfully cute, Steve blinked his way awake, coming back to you. His shoulders sagged in relief at the smile on your face.

“Hey.” You weren’t necessarily one for feelings or overaffection, but you hoped Steve didn’t notice the embarrassingly obvious adoration in your voice as your eyes drank him in.

“Hey.” His tone matched yours, sleep-husky voice still loving and velvet. You started to draw your hand away, relishing the warmth that emanated from his skin, but he caught your wrist cautiously, gentle enough to let you slip away if you wanted but firm in his request.

You stayed like that, together, for a dreamy few seconds, before he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Listen, uh, so, I’m sorry, about asking, not that I didn’t want to ask because I did, but it was unprofessional and unfair to you and-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I said yes, Steve.” He blinked at you adorably in question.

“But I thought you didn’t want anything like that with a, um, coworker?”

You swallowed and looked down at your clasped hands. You had spent far too long keeping people at arm’s length because of your fear, and you knew you could trust the Avengers. You made a tiny, tentative promise to yourself, to give people chances like they had given you. Bringing your eyes to match his, you gave him a small smile.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that Captain America is my coworker, and it’s Steve Rogers who’s asking.”

[helianthus21]

Hello! From one bitter Cass stan (who used to be all TFW positive) to another, I too am scared. Because I can't shake the feeling that Castiel won't have that much involvement in the season's arc, if at all. I don't believe a word that comes out of Dabb's mouth because he's a known liar (queue s12). I'm just wondering how disappointed I will be 😞

hey! Okay I’ll do this under the cut because while I guess by now ppl who follow me know I’m not S13 positive, I want the ones who are to have a chance to be able to easily scroll past thisAlso warning: This got more bitter in tone than I expected, so if you want sb to give you some hope and positivity, turn away now! But since you came into my ask box I doubt you wished for that:P

(Just in general: if you wanna vent about the show, my message thingy is always open, turns out I’m not done venting yet either, and that way I can keep it mostly off my blog;) anyway, dude, I feel you. I had tentative hope at the beggining of S12 that with the new showrunner things are gonna change for the better, but honestly? I don’t trust Dabb anymore either. Don’t get me wrong, I still think he’s a good screen writer, but there are things that happened in S12 that I think if he really wanted the show to change he’d not have let them pass. I’m aware that Ross-Leming is married to Singer, and Singer has a lot say in things, and yeah I have no idea how the showrunning business works, but things like Sam/Toni? Couldn’t he have put his foot down on that one if he initially had other plans for her character? And 12x21 man, this time Dabb can’t hold his hands up in all innocence like he did after Charlie. Because he might not have written her death scene, but he’s the fucking showrunner. I doubt Bucklemming are authorized to decide getting rid of her on their own, so like. Yeah, I have a grudge against Dabb. I mean, on the one hand I think if Cas actually gets to have some introspection before he comes back, gets to talk with someone important (Chuck? Billie? himself?) in the Empty or wherever, that could be a real chance for him to overcome his depression and accept himself the way he is (’Are you an angel or a man?’ - ‘Neither. Both.’) (^which would be my ideal way for this to go as you probably already know:P).But on the other hand - argh, I get that they’re going this ‘accentuate his importance via the boys pining in his absence’ route - but good lord, haven’t they done this enough in S12? Haven’t they done this enough in S11 too? Back then I was so hopeful that it was gonna lead somewhere. I told myself, “Okay, Cas is practically gone for the second half of the season but it’s gonna be worth it in the end! At the season finale he’s gonna come back and he’s gonna have some major role to subvert all the things Amara and Ambriel said and what he himself believes about himself, because he’s gonna prove himself as a hero! He’ll reject Lucifer as a first step on the long way to get his self-worth back and show that he’s not someone who just ‘helps’ and that he’s far from ‘expendable’.” I told myself that the whole time - 12 EPISODES, he was gone for 12 EPISODES!! - that he was gonna come back with a bang and it was all gonna be worth it. Because I liked the Casifer arc goddammit, it had potential. Because, for me, this was the only logical way for this to go! But then, of course, he came back and basically just stood around while everyone else got to do a part (yeah, being insulted some more by his fellow angels does not count in my book, and neither does this terrible beer run conversation, don’t even get me started on that one) while everyone got a bit of a scene with Chuck. Everyone except the one who, you know, spent basically his whole character arc searching for God, playing God, losing his faith in God - nah, that’s apparently not of import to the writers  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯So you’ll excuse me if I don’t get my hopes up that Cas’ death in 12x23 is gonna actually lead to something this time. I’m not very interested in spending the first few episodes without Cas - “really feeling his absence” bc dude I’ve been feeling his absence all the damn time! They exlude him from scenes and episodes when it’s actually working against the plot and against all logic not to have him there (see 11x09), because the format for some reason demands Misha to be in X episodes and so he won’t be in more than X episodes.I mean, sure, the three Cas-centric episodes in S12 were honestly glorious! But that doesn’t change the fact that he was in less episodes than Mary or Crowley. Quality before Quantity, yes, but then please give me this quality in all of his episodes. I don’t know about you, but him going around interviewing a few ppl, ‘searching for a lead’, that’s not what I’d call quality. That’s not really all there is to hunting and Dabb promised more hunter!Cas in S12 didn’t he. Also is quantity and quality really so hard to pull off? I mean...?? As for his involvement in the next season - I don’t know man. I probably can’t say a lot about that, or shouldn’t, because I’ve run out of chances to give the writers so I’m not gonna keep watching. They did say he shared some ‘bond’ or whatever with Jack so he’s probably gonna have a role in the overall arc, but then I had similar thoughts during the Casifer arc so..At least, the bond’s not gonna be of a romantic kind since Jack is a boy, not a girl, so there won’t be sexual undertones there, although tbh I can’t bring myself to be interested in Jack and his story? Maybe I’d think differently if they’d handled things with Kelly differently.. A shame, really, because the nature vs nurture thing does make for an interesting subject. Anyway, I know it’s too early to judge, but I get the people who worry that this storyline will yet again be taken away from him and fall instead into Sam and Dean’s hands. Wouldn’t be the first time ya know. And like I said, I’m not the best person to talk to about this, bc I can’t seem to find this storyline all too appealing bc of the way they led up to it.. which normally wouldn’t bother me too much since the characters are still A+ and they can make up for any not-so-interesting plot points, but after Eileen, not even that is enough for me tbh.So yeah, you can tell I’m still high-key pissed at the writers. Hey, I watched 12x21, the whole abomination of an episode, I think I deserve to still be bitter. Sorry though.But on a lighter note: the Empty does have potential and we shouldn’t write it off before we - well you - see it (I’m sure I’ll look at gifsets of it^^). And there’s The Hug to look forward to which I’m sure won’t be downplayed if just because Misha and Jensen and Jared know their characters and they wouldn’t half-ass this important reunion.If you wanna give S13 a chance, I’d say don’t get your hopes up too much, but also don’t think the worst? Because having your hopes crushed sucks, but if you only expect the worst, you probably won’t be satisfied with anything. This is all the advice I can give if I put myself into a more neutral position for a minute^^.