#wilson is so tired of him but in an endearing way

[atomicradiogirl]

i just made it to s4e3 where house tells wilson “i love you” and wilson shrugs in response like “yeah, i know.” DO YOU MIND????

[daydreamerdrew]

Comics read this past week:

Marvel Comics:

Captain America (2017) #695-700

These issues were published across November 2017 to April 2018, according to the Marvel Wiki. All were written by Mark Waid, drawn by Chris Samnee, and colored by Matthew Wilson.

Issues #695-697 were all stand-alone stories, part of an arc called “Home of the Brave,” as Steve was road-tripping through the United States in search of a new place to settle down. He explains this in issue #696 as, “I’m tired of being a couch-surfer. I haven’t had my own place in years that wasn’t subsidized by S.H.I.E.L.D. or Tony Stark or whoever before all that went away. Which always tied me to the New York area.”

I found the Captain America event in issue #695 endearing. And I liked Steve’s ethos of “The strong protect the weak,” told to a child at one point as “You have to protect Jacob. [..] Because he’s smaller than you.” I was surprised by the depiction, in a flashback to back when Steve had only recently been unfrozen, that Captain America had been largely forgotten and people didn’t recognize him. I’ve elsewhere seen it portrayed that he was remembered as an important historical figure and him being discovered to still be alive was a big deal. In issue #696, when Steve’s encouraged to take steps to prevent being recognized so that he’s not bombarded by fans and reporters wherever he goes, he says, “It’s not something I give a lot of thought to, to be honest.” Steve’s relationship to media attention is something I find really interesting. This portrayal is simple, but it works for the character. Also, I liked how casual he was at the end of the issue about saving a town. And I enjoyed the opening scene of issue #697, where Steve is casually chatting with a woman in a bar.

Issue #698 is where things really kicked off for me as a reader, with the storyline “Out of Time,” which went from there to issue #700. In this story Steve is frozen in ice once again, only to be woken up in a dystopic America where almost all of the heroes he knew are dead. In issue #698 Steve learns about this new America he’s found himself in, and resolves to “take our country back.” Issue #699 is that overthrow of the corrupt elite. And then in issue #700 Steve struggles to rebuild America from there.

In issue #698 Steve says to Liang, the character who becomes his primary ally in this dystopian future, “‘Doesn’t it destroy you to find out your life’s work left no impact?’ Is that your question? Because I’m trying not to think about it. Right now, I have a job to do.”

In issue #699 she says, “I know you wish you were back home.” He responds, “‘Home’ is wherever my country needs me, Liang. But yes, I do. Still, I’ve made this sort of leap across time before. And like the last one… I need to make peace with the fact that it’s probably a one-way trip.”

Issue #700 is where things got emotional for me. 80 days into building “New America,” Steve is offered a way to go back in time for prevent the apocalypse from ever happening, which he turns down. He explains, “What if all that does is create an alternate timeline? How would that fix the here and now? Or what if I go back in time and somehow fail? That takes me off the board altogether, and then how many more of us die?” At this point in time Steve ultimately believes that, “Your reality is theoretical. Mine is concrete. Real lives versus hypotheticals. […] I can’t abandon this fight. I promised to make this right, and I can.”

But it’s not easy, and 349 days in they suffer a crushing blow, which causes Steve to have a change of heart. He dismisses his earlier mentality as “over-confident” and says he should, “think, not just act. I’ve been ordering my men not to waste energy dying on every hill, but that’s the problem- I don’t know how to stop. I never did.” He says, “Hope is not a plan,” which is called, “the least Captain America thing I ever heard.” And he says that at this point he can either give or accept the Hail Mary, and “I don’t know how to give up.”

Steve is sent back to right when he was frozen in ice, and right before the nuclear bombs were launched. He quickly attacks the villain’s base, but the bombs were still activated. It takes Steve sacrificing himself, with only seconds to spare, to save the world. His final words were him accepting, “I don’t know how to stop. I never did. Hope is not a plan. But you sure as hell can’t win without it.” I had already thought that the way Chris Samnee drew Steve going back in time was beautiful, but the way he drew Steve burning up to parallel that was so impactful. This Steve dies, but the frozen Steve is broken out of the ice by the explosion. And he goes on with his life having no idea about his other self’s sacrifice or experiences in the future. He does happen to come across Liang, but the meeting has no emotional significance to either of them.

The Avengers (1963) #39

This issue was published in February 1967, according to the Marvel Wiki. It was written by Roy Thomas, penciled by Don Heck, and inked by George Roussos.

In previous issues Hank was particularly suspicious of Natasha. In issue #38 he voiced that he wouldn’t stand for her being allowed to officially join the Avengers. She’d been hanging around for a while as Clint’s girlfriend. But Natasha, who’d previously expressed that she wanted to be an official Avenger, shocked them all by announcing that she was breaking up with Clint and leaving the country. She’d been recruited by Nick Fury for a spy mission and was specifically asked to not tell anyone the truth about what she was doing. She’d hoped that by hurting Clint’s feelings she’s stop him from following her, which would endanger him. Hank surprised me during this by saying, “There must be more to this than meets the eye! I may not be a charter member of your fan club, Widow- But I had never figured you for sellin’ out,” before accepting that she was probably telling the truth about her intentions.

In this issue it’s public knowledge that Natasha betrayed the country, and Hank surprised me again by not believing it, saying that, “there’s some reason for her acts! There must be!” The rest of the Avengers are skeptical, too, but Hank seems to me to be the most vocal one. Clint is the exception. He actually left the scene before this conversation, and when he speaks elsewhere on his own he’s expresses that he’s plotting to find Natasha, “Then, maybe- just maybe- I can talk some sense into her- Before it’s too late!”

There’s also a scene at S.H.I.E.L.D. with Nick Fury, Dum Dum Dugan, and Jasper Sitwell. Jasper questions, “But, Colonel- Are you positive she can be trusted?” Nick Fury responds, “We got no choice, Sitwell! We gotta trust her!” This is of particular interest to me because I’m already interested in Natasha and Nick’s relationship, and I like Jasper and it’s stated in Winter Soldier (2012) that Natasha particularly got along well with him.

DC Comics:

Batman (2016) #25-32

These issues were published across June 2017 to October 2017 according to the Grand Comics Database. I’m continuing working through rereading Tom King’s Batman run.

Issues #25-26 and #28-29 and #31-32 were “The War of Jokes and Riddles” storyline. All were drawn by Mikel Janín, except that Hugo Petrus also worked on the inking of issue #29. All were colored by June Chung. Issues #27 and #30 were ‘interlude’ stories, though still strongly related, titled “The Ballad of Kite-Man.” Both were penciled by Clay Mann. Issue #27 was inked by Danny Miki, John Livesay, and Clay Mann, and was colored by Gabe Eltaeb. And issue #30 was inked by Seth Mann, and was colored by Jordie Bellaire.

I remember not liking this arc the first time I read the book. It worked better for me this time, but I think that’s partially because there’s been a little bit of time since I read the first 24 issues of this book. Those first four storylines and what they meant for Bruce’s character were of more interest to me, but this time there was more distance for me as a reader from that more intriguing storytelling.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (1989) #16-20

These issues were published across February 1991 to June 1991, according to the Grand Comics Database. All were written by Denny O’Neil. The layouts of all of the issues were drawn by Trevor Von Eeden, which were finished by Russ Braun, and then inked by José Luis García-López. This was the “Venom” storyline, in which Bruce became addicted to and then recovered from an early version of the villain Bane’s fictional drug.

I wasn’t really that into this one. I’ll note that the previous storylines in this book have each followed chronologically near the start of Bruce’s career as Batman, including as part of the stories the creation of the Batcave, the Batmobile, ect. This arc is the first departure from that. Nothing indicates that this story takes place towards the beginning of Bruce’s career as Batman, and also the opening narration of the first issue refers to the story as being reflected upon from the future.

Action Comics (2016) #1064

This issue was published this month, April 2024. It was written by Joshua Williamson, drawn by Rafa Sandoval, and colored by Alejandro Sánchez.

I pretty much said everything I wanted to say about this issue here.

[starlight-time-machine]

Week in Review

10/15/2023 – 10/21/2023

Sunday

My friend and I were both hype for the House S4 finale so we hopped on it when we both woke up. I think this is my favourite season finale in House, since it was the only one I remembered other than the series finale. The reveal was definitely shocking when I first watched it, and Wilson flexing his emotional acting is fantastic. Then we jumped right into S5, and the Hilson break-up angst is fun.

Manga Sunday time: MamaYuyu was fine, I kind of expected Escaba’s villainous turn since they emphasized his openness so much, but maybe they’ll do a double heel turn back to him being a good guy. The story was starting to shake up into the tried and true “group of young people (two guys and a girl) fight monsters” structure so at least there’s some movement happening here. I’m pretty close to dropping the manga as a whole, though.

Undead Unluck was great, I love when they pull out these big moments. Seeing Fuuko jump into surgery is fun, and seeing Rip and Latla do a three legged race I mean fight is both funny and heartwarming…it’s a clear evolution of Rip’s arc from a doomed loner shouldering the burden to someone who has to depend on others. I think Undead Unluck’s storylines have always been like, a pure distillation of shounen hype. It’s like the platonic ideal of characters who do their best and work together and better themselves for the people they care about, which could get boring if it weren’t for how genuine the writing feels and the interesting worldbuilding and the simple fact that it’s not all just teenage boys having these emotions but a variety of characters.

(Speaking of Undead Unluck, they just announced who the seiyuu for Mui is going to be and it’s not Homoto Akina or Liyuu…I’m sure Ishikawa Yui is a good fit but man…one of my favourite parts about reading Undead Unluck was seeing the little bits of Chinese and being amazed at how real it was…oh well…)

Ichinose Family is finally picking up a bit for me. After reading this and Takopi, I think Taizan 5’s brand is very much “strong premises and fantastical and intensely emotional and roundabout ways of getting to a simple and somewhat cliché truth.” So you’re telling me the various bouts of amnesia and dreaming and waking and running away would eventually lead the characters to realize that they need to face their problems and that the perfect family doesn’t exist and you just have to work at it? Wow there was no way I could’ve seen that coming. And to be honest, I kind of don’t buy that they’re such a wreck of a family to warrant all this prelapsarian desperation in the first place, but I guess it just speaks to their naïve mindsets. I am looking forward to the confrontation between Mom and Dad next week, though. I’m more interested in their relationship as a couple than the kind of played out familial relationships we’ve already seen between the other family members.

Aww the Dandadan chapter was cute, little Rin is adorable and it’s fun that the catboy in her fantasy is still a vampire catboy.

Marriagetoxin is fine, I’m still rooting for Kinosaki to be the endgame candidate for Gero but their relationship hasn’t progressed much lately beyond advisor and advisee. But since we already have canon lesbians, my hopes are still alive. The thing with Marriagetoxin that bugs me a little (aside from the action sequences that I literally could not care less about) is that I can feel the creator’s modern sensibilities in writing these female love interests and giving them real personalities and motivations and making sure they don’t end up just as damsels in distress (and I appreciate that), but when it comes to the actual romance it regresses to middle schooler levels of “oh no how do I talk to a girl.” Which, okay, I can accept that for Gero since it’s a part of his character, but it gets a bit tiring when even the cool ikemen love interest gets all blushy and embarrassed too. I’m sure people find it cute and moe and endearing but it just does nothing for me, and I wish we’d move past this general shyness around romance and, god forbid, kissing, but I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from a magazine aimed at teens. And comparing something to Chainsaw Man wouldn’t be fair, so I won’t. I guess I’m just wanting for a little more romantic progress instead of introducing new love interests and going through the cycle of Gero helping them and them becoming fond of him again, because it’s starting to feel like Marriagetoxin is spinning its wheels.

As expected, shady looking private investor guy has joined the team in Magilumiere. It’s fun seeing Sakuragi confidently chase her ambitions – she’s come a long way since chapter 1. I’m curious about the sudden focus on glasses lady whose name I can’t remember. I wonder if she’s just a conduit for information and will report back to Sakuragi and co about what she’s learned, or if this is hinting at her getting a storyline…

The latest Akane-banashi chapter was fine, I’m just not particularly emotionally invested in any of the characters and why they do rakugo. But I suppose it would’ve been hard for any rakugo centric series to capture my attention after Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu did it first. But I stay with Akane-banashi to learn about rakugo stories I don’t know, so I’ll stick with it until the end.

The One Piece chapter was good, I don’t have much to say other than I never expected to get a backstory flashback for Kuma of all people, but it looks like it’ll be pretty important.

It’s great to get another SpyFam chapter, and I always love the Damian/Anya ones. Damian’s shoujo filter for Anya is a fun visual gag, and the whole chapter wrapped up in a wholesome and funny way. I enjoy these comedy slice of life chapters as much as I do the spy or assassin mission chapters, but I do wish we could use them to progress a bit more in the social games that also play a part in Loid’s schemes – though I suppose we get an indication of Damien’s deepening crush on Anya so there’s that.

I can’t believe that Cipher Academy is something I get to read every week. It’s just so so so so good. So good, in fact, that I feel the need to go page by page and talk about all the things I noticed. I liked that they kept the detail of Iroha’s barrette getting chipped in the explosion, I like that we’re finally looking deeper at the bits of Iroha’s backstory that we saw in the Code Battle with Tayutan, Iroha’s backstory is as tragic as I expected, and I realized that his five barrettes design feature is to keep up a long strand of hair…perhaps to remind himself of his past? Amvicious is great, she has the same energy as Boku no Hero Academia’s All Might. And as I looked at her design again just now I’m realizing that perhaps Iroha saying he liked their buff instructor in the Code Battle wasn’t just a deflection but because she reminds him of Amvicious, another tall, muscular, and light haired girl… And I like that Iwasaki drew stairs in Iroha and Koshibai’s shadows to indicate them moving down through the floors. I LOVE that double spread between Tayutan and Kubinashi, and I like that they’re thinking along the same wavelength… And I love that Cipher Academy has such an attention for detail that it’s really rewarding to read and pore over and make your own connections because they don’t always relay everything clearly or right away… God I love this manga.

I checked out the first few chapters of You and I Are Polar Opposites because I saw people say that it was good and unconventional, and it’s certainly cute but it’s just not for me.

Monday

Went over to my friend’s house and watched an episode of House, then went home and watched even more episodes of House over Discord. The Hilson road trip to House’s Dad’s funeral was great, and I suspect that’ll be the highlight of the season as the overall narrative descends into House/Cuddy’s blossoming relationship.

Tuesday

Almost forgot it was Tuesday until I saw CSM screenshots on Twitter and wow, what a chapter. I’m excited to see the Death Devil’s design.

More House marathon – we’re trying to cram as much in before our lives get busier. The agoraphobic patient was an interesting challenge, and in the episode after that I’m happy to see Foreman finally get a win on his own.

Wednesday

Nothing today lol just YouTube and Picross.

Thursday

Does it count as watching if I slept on the couch while my friend watched the newest episodes of Our Flag Means Death?

Friday

Also nothing today – I’ve fallen down a deep video game rabbit hole.

Saturday

Okay I’m feeling bad about how empty this Week in Review is because of my gaming addiction (to be fair, I also did some work), so I’m forcing myself to watch some anime today (maybe force is a silly word for watching anime, which literally requires next to no effort on my part…but I’m four years behind on my anime list for a reason). Perhaps I’ll start Anime Saturdays as a counterpart to Manga Sundays…that’d be a cute way to bookend these things.

I started with Kusuriya no Hitorigoto because it was the one I was most anxious about. I fell into this series just a few months ago and it immediately became one of my 10/10 series (the first manga to ever be so good that it got me to read the original light novel), so hearing that it was getting an anime was both exciting and nervewracking. I didn’t expect like, sakuga levels of quality for this sort of story, but I at least wanted more than just a bare bones adaptation, especially with a sumptuous setting like the Rear Palace. So far I’m pretty pleased with the setting design and the music, I’m such a sucker for Chinese instruments. I really love the background art here, all the beautiful colors breathe so much life into the show. Maomao is also very cute, especially when she’s chibified. And I love Yuuki Aoi’s voice performance.

I’m a bit confused about the opening though – I suppose they wanted to establish some things about Maomao’s life before she got kidnapped, but I feel like it just messes with the pacing. Kidnapping is a pretty hard event to try to play off as a comedy beat to match the relatively light-hearted tone of Kusuriya, which is why I think the original story just skips over it. If anything, I would’ve kept in Maomao saying goodbye to her dad, getting distracted by medicinal plants, and then a quick cut between the kidnapping and the three month timeskip. There was no need to show the consorts so early when Maomao explains their dynamics within the palace later on anyway – but now I’m rambling.

I lied, I’m back to complain about that tiny cut of Gaoshun informing Jinshi that the consorts are fighting, I feel like that was also completely unnecessary…these are just tiny nitpicks, sure, but they’re bugging me since I love this series so much. I guess the pacing of Kusuriya was always one of the more unique things about it, since long swathes of time can pass very quickly between scenes, so it was a challenge to adapt that to a fixed time medium like anime…but hmmm it’s just the little things. Like I’m tripping over rocks while I watch.

Next up is the new SpyFam episode, which starts with some nice footsteps-on-wood ASMR. And wow, I’m impressed by the actual English text happening in the show, I wonder if they had a consultant or looked at the official English translation of the manga. I also liked the shadow of the window frame like a cross or a cage on Perkins’ face as he realizes he’s been caught, now that’s subtle imagery. The story makes me so sad though…

I spoke a little too soon on the subtle imagery. The blue sky and sunlight hitting the top part of the apartment building as the story wraps up was a bit too on the nose, guys. The Bondman episode was super cute, I loved the retro style. And I loved the watercolor style of the omake – I’m glad that they get to experiment with the sillier parts of the show.

Oh hell fucking yes, every time I watch a new episode of Undead Unluck I just sit in awe of how much the show gets the manga. The direction is fantastic as always, with really new dramatic compositions unique to the show. I love that silent snippet of Gina and Andy in the cold open, it just does so much to establish her character and the scope of the Union’s operation. The quick cuts for comedy and the motion through the ocean and the sky…god I feel genuinely emotional watching this show.

Oh my god Fuuko’s little “nya” as Andy pushes her out of the grass…

I love that the first half of Undead Unluck is like, Andy and Fuuko’s romantic worldwide getaway on top of the typical shounen battle fight a boss stuff. Just this one little addition of pathos adds so much dimension to the story.

Ooo, now we’re getting some Russian…I wonder how accurate it is/if they got a Russian voice actor for this rando background character. And ahhhh Gina is so cute, such a nice contrast from how powerful her intro scenes positioned her as. AGHHHHHH HER REVEAL TO FUUKO IS SO SINISTER AND COOL AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THE MUSIC IS SO GOODDDDDDD I remember this arc being the first one where I was so impressed by the unique ending that it cemented my interest in the series, and the anime is doing such a good job of elevating it closer to its platonic ideal…I almost wish I could go into the anime blind, but then I probably wouldn’t have watched it at all. But at least I can fully enjoy the ride now. It seems like the Week in Reviews for the next few months are all going to end with me livetweeting the latest Undead Unluck episode from excitement heh. I really hope they can keep up this level of quality…and also adapt the entire manga.

[shititbe]

Anyway, Peter Parker is Bi, and I Won’t Be Convinced Otherwise.

Firstly, we have to get our bases covered. What exactly is Bi-sexuality? What is sexuality? 

Sexuality is defined as a persons identity in relation to gender(s) they are attracted to. Why is this important? Peter’s sexuality has never been specifically stated in the comics, nor in any other form of media. It’s assumed that he is straight because of his popular relationship with Mary Jane Watson in the comics, and the movies. 

Now that we have a bases for what exactly sexuality is and how it’s defined, let’s go over Peter’s partners. 

Obviously Peter and Mary Jane are a piece of comic book history. They eventually get married, though sadly, during the events of Civil War II (I think, don’t quote me) Peter and Mary Jane sell their marriage to Mephisto in order to save Aunt May

They later had their memories of their marriage restored, they have yet to get back together and it’s been a few issues if I remember correctly. Next we have Peter’s first, and most unfortunate love, Gwen Stacy. 

They dated in high school where she later died. Of course, Peter has dated other people (namely, Black Cat, Betty Brant, Carol Danvers, Anna Maria, Cindy Moon, Lian Tang, and so on). Since we have his known history of heterosexuality out there, we need to move onto another important part of Peter’s Bi-sexuality. An important implication in any media, especially queer media though, and that is the homoerotic subtext. 

Homoerotic subtext is important part of queer culture, a lot of the time it’s used to portray a characters queerness without saying it out (see: Dorian Gray by Oscar Wild or Great Gatsby By Fitz). In current decade, homoerotic subtext is often used for queer baiting or creating more realistic male friendships. 

So what’s the difference between someone creating a health male friendship (or a character comfortable in their heterosexuality) and implying a character is queer? 

Here are some examples of a healthy male character, both with himself and his friendships.  

Clearly he’s just taking the shit, and messing around with Reed. He’s comfortable enough (or as I like to see it, so traumatized because good god this guy has been Spider-Man since he was 15 good god that’s awful. He probably doesn’t care anymore). Here are some examples of Peter a little more than just a straight man shooting the shit. 

This has three meanings. Two of which I will take, one of which is just deeply embarrassing. Despite Peter’s history with humiliating events, I don’t think he would get his own spunk in his eyes. Leaving the other two options, he has experience getting spunk of - some kind - in his eyes, and/or he’s taking the shit again. Which is very likely. 

Kissing a cop? For....no reason? A little not so hetero of you Peter. 

You can practically hear his disappointment in his voice. Also could be read as taking the shit, but why would you. 

Making out with The Thing? Gay. 

This one is the most important. Peter is clearly tired, annoyed by his teammates (see wolverine being wolverine in the corner). Shits on fire, its mid battle, and Peter has the audacity to mutter “I hate men” to himself. The only people I have every heard say this in that was are lgbt and straight women, and lgbt men. This kind of expression only comes from people who date, or deal with men in a completely different world than straight men. Straight men use this phrase as an endearment, “Oh have you seen Bill today, I hate that guy.” “Man Jerry can do so many push-ups, I hate that guy.” Very different language, and implications (I also, obviously don’t know how straight men speak). 

 Now that we’ve gone over our bases, and homoerotic subtext. How else could we gather that Peter Parker is Bi? There are many tropes in media - queer media - that allure to a characters queerness. Like homoerotic subtext, there are ways to tell an audience something without specifically saying it. 

This is a gay wedding Peter went to in the recent comics. I don’t know if any of you have been to a gay wedding recently, but Peters face (the first panel above the wedding) is the same exact face I made at my first gay wedding. It’s the face of excitement for not only the couple, but for yourself. The hope that maybe, you too can actually be in a same-sex relationship. 

I’m also going to allure to queer tropes as stated previously. Such as the real, and fictional trope of lgbt people sticking together. Thousands of years of belittlement and oppression will make groups of people not want to wonder out, and subconsciously look for others like them. 

Johnny Storm (and Wade Wilson since he comes in later but I couldn’t find a picture of the confirmation) is cannon Bi-sexual (Pan-sexual). 

Their friendship is deeply homoerotic as most queer friendships in media and real life are. Johnny flirts with Peter on many occasions (saying his ideal women is a female version of Peter, inviting him over to watch is sex tape, and so on) and of course oh my god they were roommates. 

Some other popular queer tropes are: Found Family, Soulmates, and Enemies to lovers. Because it’s superhero related, this includes the Identity Porn tag as well.  

Peter Parker and Wade Wilson have a famous Love/Hate relationship. I mean, how could you expect anything less when your first meeting with this known mercenary is him throwing your civilian persona out the window of a car. Now, Wade still doesn’t know Peter is Spider-Man in the current run of comics, but that doesn’t make anything about them any less gay. 

For the Found Family Trope: 

Because it’s Peter and Wade, their whole development can be read as Enemies to Friends to Lovers, so I wont bother backing that up because, uh, it speaks for itself. One panel really does to add that cause though 

I’m not going to explain what a free-pass list is.

The Soulmates part I know I have to back up. 

For SoulMates:  

Now this panel requires a little explanation. Wade kills Peter, not knowing he’s Spider-Man. Weasel takes over for Peter (they don’t know its him) so no one suspects he’s dead. Deadpool begins to feel guilty he killed his best buds best bud, so he tries to bring Peter back to life. Losing his stunning good looks (switching back to how he looked before Weapon X making his wife Shiklah estranged (then she married Dracula but thats beside the point)). Spider-Man is Peter’s “true self” or patronus for Harry Potter fans. Wade is stupid and hasn’t connected the dots yet, effectively making him the biggest simp in history. Seriously, who destroys their marriage for the c h a n c e for getting some with their idol? A Simp, that’s who.

Peter forgives Wade for killing him (and for saving him from killing their genetic daughter itsy-bitsy). If someone killed me they better be hot as fuck before I even thing about forgiving them. Ignoring Peter’s super sexy forgiving nature, uh, he’s kinda simping. 

Died in each others arms. Nothing else is needed. 

They’re heartmates. From what I read, the feeling has to be mutual in order for it to work. The witches (long story, comics are hard to explain) that captured deadpool were expecting his wife so they could get the headmistress back. Instead, they got Peter. Basically Heartmates = soulmates but chosen for you instead of chosen by you. 

To conclude my point: 

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. 

[bruhlsbees]

better man || ken hutchinson x fem!reader

summary: still wrecked from being put on suspension and learning about starsky's application to be transfered, hutch calls you to come over to comfort him

pairing: ken hutchinson x fem!reader

word count: 4,762

warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, angst, maybe a little ooc!hutch?? i made him super soft in this

a/n: pls accept this soft!hutch fic as the first of many owen wilson related content coming from yours truly

You weren’t expecting to get a phone call from him that night, let alone ask for you to come over.

It wasn’t his usual night for you to meet up. The both of you had a mutual understanding of each other’s outside lives - him working during the day, you working at night. Unless he came around to Huggy’s, you’d only ever see him on the night you had off - where it was usually spent at his house, listening to him play the guitar and having one too many drinks.

So when you got a call from him that night only minutes before leaving for work, desperately pleading with you to call in, you couldn’t help but ask why.

“Huggy ain’t gonna like this, Hutch. You know we are already short-staffed with the girls. Can’t you come down to Huggy’s and we can talk there? What’s going on?”

You heard him whine faintly over the phone, sighing throughout your words as he tried to think of a good reason on the other end as to why he wanted to see you. Would it be so wrong to just say he just missed you?

“Tell Huggy I’ll pick up some extra jobs for him. Tell him I’ll owe him any favor he wants if you can get tonight off. Please, do this for me. Just this once.”

Something about the phrase ‘just this one’ didn’t sound too believable. Hutch had a good way of getting what he wanted even if he said prior that it was just a one time thing. But you couldn’t point all the fault to him, cause every promise you believed - you still ended up giving in.

“Fine,” You agreed after a moment of thinking, “I’ll give Huggy a call and then I’ll head over. Just give me a little bit to change. I’m not walking down the road in my work uniform. I don’t need to get picked up.”

Before you could get another word out, you heard Hutch rush his goodbye before hearing the phone call end with a ‘click’.

So after calling into work, relaying the deal that Hutch wanted you to negotiate with Huggy, you were free from your night of dancing down at Huggy’s Place and changed out of your uniform and into something less revealing and more comfortable.

Whether you would just be taking them off when you got there or not didn’t matter, you weren’t heading out into the neighborhood in your nightclub uniform for someone to mistake you for something you weren’t.

It only took you about twenty minutes before you were at Hutch’s front door, rapping your knuckles against his screen door until you waited for him to let you in or call for you to just come in. Not even thirty seconds later the door opened and you were greeted by Hutch.

“Hey...thanks for stopping by.” He greeted, stepping out of the way for you to walk in before he shut and locked his door. You nodded, slipping your shoes off before heading into his living room.

“Yeah, no problem. Huggy said he’d let you know if he needed a favor by the way, but he also said if you were going to start making this a habit, you’d need to pay for me to come over.” Unzipping your sweatshirt, you tossed it on his couch before turning, looking back at him.

Chuckling to himself, Hutch shook his head and made his way towards you, hands at his waist until his toes touched yours, hovering above you.

“Why do I get the feeling you made that last bit up?” He questioned, smirking down at you. You returned the smirk back, shrugging your shoulders before your hands moved to the front of his button up, resting on his chest as you hummed.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” You moved your hands up his chest before wrapping them around his neck, feeling his own arms wrap around your waist as he kept you close. “So are you going to tell me what you called me over here for or what?”

Leaning forward, Hutch pressed his lips to your forehead, exhaling through his nose while he held his position for a moment, until he pulled back to look down at you.

“Work stuff. Apparently I’m a shit cop with a partner who would rather transfer to another precinct than work with me,” He paused, shaking his head and pulling back from you, heading over to his couch to plop down on, running his hands over his legs, “Guy’s such a tight ass, I don’t know why I’m even letting him get to me.”

With a sympathetic smile, you listened to him carefully until he was finished, heading over and sitting down in the spot beside him, your left hand going to his hair to play with while your right hand found one of his hands to hold.

“It sounds like you care about him...and care about how he sees you,” Before he could protest your observation, you moved your hand from his and pressed your fingers to his lips to hush him, “You’re not a bad cop. Yeah your ethic might not be as union-friendly as it could be, but that doesn’t make you a bad cop. You’re a good cop, a great detective, and an even better man.”

Your words came to him like a prayer, taking in every syllable you spoke. He hadn’t planned on you coming over to praise him, but damn did you do a good job with it, and it did cheer him up...so maybe all along this was what he was looking for.

The relationship you had with Hutch was...interesting to say the least. It was well known down at Huggy’s that you were his favorite dancer and he was your favorite customer. The first time he walked in alone turned your legs to jelly and ever since then he had you wrapped around his finger.

What you had going on had been happening for a while now, escalating into not-so-secret evenings spent together at his place usually. Maybe it was just a hookup sort of deal, but you ignored that idea entirely, focusing on how Hutch made you feel.

He was a flirt with any pair of legs that walked by him, but he always knew how to make you feel special. The other girls down at Huggy’s always seemed to point out how well he would tip you, or even the look he’d give when you were giving him a dance. ‘He’s a customer, that’s what customers do,’ you’d remind them.

But that wasn’t the entire truth. You knew not too deep down you enjoyed being the only one he looked at, being his girl on the nights he came in and his pretty thing when you’d go to his house. The sex with him was great, there wasn’t any doubt about that, but you enjoyed the nights just as much when you didn’t have sex - when all you did was talk.

It felt, almost, like something real...hell, like you were dating.

His eyes moved from the coffee table and to you, smiling weakly as his blue eyes took you in. You looked tired, drained from the long nights at work, but there was still something so gentle about you, so pure.

“You’re the prettiest thing to walk this Earth, you know that?” Hutch whispered, head beginning to lull forward, closing the space between you.

Blushing, you followed in suit, your own face leaning closer to his, “When did you start going soft on me?” You found yourself asking, but before he could answer, your lips were already on him.

Humming into the kiss, your hands moved to cradle his face, holding either side in your hands as you were pulled into his lap, straddling him now as you continued to make out on the couch. He tasted sweet like honey and bitter like whiskey - overall though, sensuous.

You felt his hands run up your back, under your shirt until his fingers found the back of your bra. Being the man Hutch was, the back of a bra was like the back of his own hand. He could unhook a bra in his sleep if he wanted.

Maybe he was a grade a sleaze for the most part, but in times like this when that facade broke, and Hutch was just himself, nothing else really mattered besides you and him.

Pulling away from him, you leaned back to pull your shirt off, slipping your bra off your shoulders before tossing it to the side to join your t-shirt. At the sight of your exposed breasts, Hutch leaned forward with a sigh, his mouth warming your left breast while his right hand massaged at your other.

“O-Oh...Ken.” His name left your mouth like a song, holding his head close to you as he continued to suckle at your nipple, overstimulating your breasts until you began to shake in his arms.

Pulling away with a ‘pop’, Hutch looked up at you with a smile, keeping his eyes on you as he kissed up your chest, to your neck, before finally reaching your face. As he made his way up your body, your fingers found the front of his shirt and began to fumble with the buttons until his chest became exposed.

“You know everyone calls me Hutch, right?” He reminded you, smiling against your cheek before peppering your face with kisses. He couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his face, hurting his cheeks at the sound of your laughs.

“I know that, but you’re my Ken. Can’t I call you Ken when we’re alone?” You watched as his face pulled away, smiling your way and looking at you so endearing, as if you were his. Could there ever be a time where you could call him yours?

You shivered under his touch when you felt his calloused hand hold your face, fingers bending to stroke up the side of your face, “You can call me whatever you want.”

Pushing his shirt off his shoulders, you leaned forward and pressed yourself against his warm torso, wrapping your arms around him again as you went back in for another deep kiss. This time, while his right arm was wrapped tight around your middle, his left hand held your ass, lifting you up as he carried you to his bedroom.

Clinging to him until your back hit the mattress, you sank into his bed with ease, sighing against his lips as your muscles relaxed. He always did have a better mattress than you did. You were half expecting him to stay on top of you.

At first you were disappointed when he stood up, standing at the foot of his bed, only for that disappointment to turn into a grin when you saw him unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans and boxers down. He leaned forward and grabbed the waistband of your pants, yanking them down your legs and off, throwing them behind him.

Grabbing onto your calves, Hutch pulled your body down his bed and towards him, grinning at the way you stretched out on his bed, staring up at him with that serene look he always felt safe with. Before he could lean forward to sink his teeth into your plush thighs, you unexpectedly grabbed him there, possessively almost, your gaze darkening when you met his.

He choked on his words when your grip tightened around the base of his cock, slowly pumping him - your eyes never leaving his. His chest raised and fell back, staring down at your hand until his chest tightened, closing his eyes.

You leaned forward and swiped the tip of his cock with your tongue, continuing to slowly pump him as you heard the low grunts come from him above you, his head falling back and mouth gaped open.

“Y-You don’t gotta do that, you know.” He choked out, gasping when he felt you spit on him to later in your hand, the slick sounds of your spit mixed with his pre-cum sending him over the edge.

Pulling his cock up, you leaned forward and took his tightened balls in your mouth, sucking on them before pulling back and letting them fall out of your mouth. At this point, Hutch didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold on.

“I know, but I want to. You always take care of everyone, why don’t you let me take care of you?”

He carefully opened his eyes and let his head fall back forwards, looking down at you and reaching forward to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. You smiled and closed your eyes, leaning into his touch before feeling him shift in front of you.

Crawling on top of you again, Hutch pulled you up by your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he quickly positioned himself at your entrance, running the tip of his cock between your folds, sighing at how wet you already were.

“Next time,” He promised, pulling you even closer to him, if that was even possible, “Right now I just need to be in you. Okay?”

Nodding, your hands found his shoulders, holding onto them as your head settled into his pillows, staring up at him. You couldn’t help but admire his features; how his eyes were blue but sometimes twinkled green, the obvious bend to his nose where he broke it all those years ago, and even if you never meant to kiss him - you still ended up doing so because his lips were just that desirable.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” You found yourself admitting, blushing when you caught the words slip out of your mouth. He didn’t seem to mind though, his cheeks going pink for a moment before he kissed you quickly.

“That’s supposed to be my line, you know that?” He teased, mocking you. Before you could really lay it on him, wanting to be the one to have the last word, your breath hitched to your throat, choking on your words as he suddenly pushed inside of you, filling you up instantly.

Hutch wasn’t cruel, he could be rough sometimes in bed, but he wouldn’t let you spend the entire time wincing away in pain. As he stayed inside you, feeling your walls clutch almost too tight around him, he waited until you adjusted to him, letting out a shaky breath before nodding for him to continue.

You didn’t need to tell him verbally to move, your nod was enough for him to grip the sheets beside your head and begin pumping in and out of you, staring down at your face as your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape and your eyes fluttered shut.

He couldn’t say it enough, how beautiful you were. In the dark overcast you were his sunshine. And maybe that’s why it hurt so much to know that you weren’t truly his.

You could lay under him all day, any day, crying out his name and whimpering in his neck until you both came undone together - but there was still that empty feeling inside of him, like something was missing.

As a cop, he knew he had a commitment to his job that left him with a bare minimum social life - which is why he was often found socializing on the hour. It wouldn’t be fair for you to be sitting around waiting for him to come home everyday - Jesus, was that the best excuse he could come up with?

No, that wasn’t the case at all. He knew the real reason why - of all the men on your street, hell, in Bay City in general, there were plenty of better men out there than him. Hutch was selfish and if he couldn’t have you, he didn’t want anyone to.

“Hutch? I think I’m close.”

Pulling out of his thoughts, Hutch looked down at you, feeling your hands move to hold his face as your body began to tremble under him. How long had he been thinking for you to already be close?

That didn’t matter though, the clamping of your walls around him were enough for him to feel his own climax rising. Nodding his head, Hutch grabbed onto you and pulled you up, flipping so he was sitting and you were in his lap.

His face fell back into your breasts, cheek resting over your heartbeat and listening as the rhythmic pumping picked up as you clung onto him tighter, bouncing in his lap. With his fingers sinking into your sides, Hutch kept you at your current pace, helping you move when your thighs began to quiver and you began to choke up.

This was about him, you had to remind yourself. This wasn’t anything more than a quick fuck, and maybe that’s why it hurt so bad to feel him hold you the way he did. With your own face resting on the crown of his head, kissing his hair, your hands grabbed onto any part of him you could find.

Continuing to rut up inside you, leaving you bouncing in his lap like a ragdoll, your stomach began to twist and coil into knots, leaving your walls pulsating around him. Usually you’d last longer than what you were going at tonight, but you weren’t complaining, and neither was Hutch.

When he heard your breath hitch, your movements freezing, his own movements picked up, feeling everything inside of him tighten and burn up until he was coming undone inside you, gasping against your skin, pressing light kisses to your collarbones.

You weren’t far behind, whimpering when your toes curled as you felt the wave of relief hit you, the high feelings hitting you like a wall until you laid slack against him in his arms. Hutch held you in his arms, stroking your hair, “Don’t worry...I got you.”

When the both of you finally came down from your high, Hutch felt you push off of him, groaning at the loss of weight inside of you and the loss of heat for him. You weren’t entirely sure if he wanted you to stay, or if this was just what he wanted you for, so you began to search for your clothes, picking your jeans off the floor until you felt his hand grab your wrist.

Turning you first looked down at his hand before at him, seeing him seated in the same spot, his bangs sticking to his slicked forehead. He looked tired, but more at peace than before when you first arrived. You sent him a smile, moving your hand to hold his, giving it a squeeze.

“I should probably go so you can get some slee-”

“I’m not working right now...you don’t gotta leave just yet, if you don’t want to,” He moved his thumb over your knuckles, gently caressing your hand until he pulled you towards him again, “You could stay the night if you wanted to.”

Now this was new. You had never spent the night with him before, let alone did he ever offer you to. There was the one time when you had quite a bit too much to drink, but you insisted on him just walking you back home. Tonight though, tonight he had actually thrown out the idea for you to stay with him.

At first you didn’t know if you should, but with how he was already feeling, how you were feeling in the moment, and how late it was - you knew you’d regret it if you didn’t say yes.

After not-so-careful consideration, you smiled weakly and nodded, “I’d like that.” Your words came out in a hush and before you knew it you were being pulled down into his bed, letting him hold you in his arms as he pulled the covers over the two of you.

You weren’t exactly tired, seeing as though you were usually up late anyways, but in that moment - feeling the weight and warmth of him around you - the safety and security of him brought you into a slow lull.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, you hummed quietly as you felt his fingers trace patterns along your back, his movements growing slower until the both of you fell into a state of slumber.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Hutch wasn’t expecting to wake up to the smell of bacon being cooked, nor was he expecting to hear the sound of you singing ‘Good Vibrations’. It was a pleasant surprise though, one that he could get used to.

Shifting his body a little in bed, Hutch stretched up and reached towards the shelf above his bed, pulling up his alarm clock to see that it was going on just a little after nine. It wasn’t too early for him, but he knew for you it must have been hell getting up.

Then he began to think, had you even slept the night before?

It didn’t take him long to get dressed. Pulling out a clean pair of boxers and one of his old concert t-shirts, Hutch headed out of his room and down the hall towards the kitchen. At the sight of you lost in your own thoughts, dishing out food onto plates, Hutch could only lean against the doorway and admire you.

To think - he got so lucky, and yet you weren’t even his.

When you turned around, the plates in your hand, you jumped at the sudden sight of him, letting out a gasp before settling back down, letting out a weak laugh to match his.

“Hutch! Hi, morning - I’m sorry, was I being too loud? I was hoping to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” You explained sheepishly.

Shaking his head, Hutch took a couple steps forward towards you, taking one of the plates from you before kissing your cheek, “No, you weren’t being too loud. Sorry for ruining your surprise.” He listened to you tell him not to worry about it, beginning to ramble on about how you couldn’t sleep and went out to get stuff to make breakfast.

He hadn’t noticed at first, but now that he was hovering over you, he noticed you were wearing one of his turtlenecks, the long-sleeve swallowing you. When you realized he had noticed, you watched his free hand grab onto your waist, his thumb running up and down.

“I can take it off, I just couldn’t find my-”

“No, no, don't worry. It looks good on you. Hell, I think it looks better on you than it does me.” He admitted, watching as you smiled and shook your head.

“That’s not true, you always look good in your turtlenecks.” You leaned forward and met him in the middle with a kiss, pulling away after a moment to follow him into the living room, settling on the couch to enjoy breakfast.

He appreciated the kind gesture, having you take care of him the night before and that morning after explaining his situation with work. It made him realize just how much you cared for him, and how much he began to accept the feelings he had for you.

Chewing on his strip of bacon, Hutch glanced over your way and watched as you were contently eating, your eyes casted down at your plate, thinking to yourself. Leaning towards you, Hutch pressed another gentle kiss to your cheek, watching as your head pulled up and looked towards him.

“Thank you, for everything,” He began. When you opened your mouth to tell him that it wasn’t anything, he stopped you by stuffing the rest of his bacon strip in your mouth, smiling as you giggled, “What are you doing today?” He asked out of the blue.

After chewing the rest of the strip of bacon, you shook your head, “Nothing...tonight’s my day off so I don’t really do anything,” You explained, watching as he nodded his head in thought. “Why?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Hutch dropped his head down towards his plate, picking at the eggs, “Oh, nothing really I was just thinking that since you’re here, and wanted to, maybe you and I could go out for dinner or something? If you were up to do something today?”

Taken back by his suggestion, your expression faltered slightly, not sure how to take his offer. Would you be going out to dinner as friends?

“LIke a date?” You questioned hesitantly, clearing your throat to choke back your own nerves with the question.

You were surprised entirely to see him nod, smiling at his plate before he looked back up at you. “Yeah...a date.”

Staring at one another, Hutch carefully watched your face, waiting for your reaction. When you let out a laugh, Hutch frowned, cheeks going pink at the embarrassment that now settled in.

Had he gotten the wrong expression all this time? Were you not interested in the way he was with you?

Seeing how red he became, your laughs died down and you reached towards him, grabbing the back of his neck before pulling yourself to him for a kiss. When you pulled away, you saw him return the smile, visibly relaxing.

“Ken Hutchinson, when did it become so hard for you to ask a girl out?” You teased, caressing the side of his face. He shrugged his shoulders before leaning forward to kiss you again.

“When ‘that girl’ is someone I really like.” It was your turn to turn red, falling back in your spot, looking back down at your plate with a smile stained to your cheeks. So he did like you like that. “I just hope she feels the same way.” He whispered.

“She does,” You confirmed, slowly picking at your eggs, chewing them carefully so you didn’t choke, trying to find the right words to say next. “She just didn’t think you liked her.”

He couldn’t question why you had thought that, because it was the same way for him. At this point, the both of you were settled on the couch silently kicking yourselves as the revelations became clear. All this time, mutual pinning, and yet neither of you were able to see it.

“So it’s a date?” He confirmed after a minute, waiting for your answer.

Smiling, you looked up at him and nodded, “Yes, it’s a date.”

Letting his head fall back down to his plate, Hutch finished the rest of his plate with a smile on his face, the same as you. This time, while you ate, your body perked up at the thought of going on a date with Hutch. What would you wear? Where would you guys go?

For the rest of breakfast, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, eating the rest of the food that you made that sat in the kitchen before you decided it was time to go - wanting to get some sleep and get ready at your own place for that night.

Later that night, when Hutch came to pick you up, you were pleasantly surprised to see him holding a small bouquet of roses, wearing one of your favorite outfits of his - a pair of slacks, his black turtleneck, and brown jacket.

On the other hand, he nearly sank to his knees at the sight of you dolled up. Wearing a dark red dress that stopped at your calves, paired with a pair of black heels and makeup to match. He all but choked up on his words, watching as you pulled the bouquet from his hands to smell.

“Thank you, Ken, these are beautiful.” You noted, smiling up at him.

His own lips pulled into a smile, hands stuffed in the pocket of his slacks to keep from nervously twiddling with his fingers, “Well I had to find something equally as beautiful to match the owner of them.”

You blushed at his words, nodding in acknowledgement before motioning to the inside of your place, “Let me go put these in a vase really quick, and then we can go.”

Nodding, Hutch watched you walk inside and towards your kitchen, waiting out on the front porch for you.

Turning towards the street, the moon illuminating the neighborhood, Hutch couldn’t help the smile that stuck to his face, or the warm feeling he had in his belly. At that moment, he could believe your words now from the night before. It didn’t matter what anyone else said, so long as you believed in him.

With you, he knew he could be a better man.

[cjsinkythoughts]

A Familiar Face

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Word Count: 950

Warnings: One Swear Word, Sam being a smooth motherfucker, (make that Two Swear Words), a brief mention of Endgame victims, including implied talk of Steve, implied sexy times

A/N: I’ve never written Sam x Reader before, but I wanted to try given that I love Sam with my whole heart and the fact that their making his roots from the South like Mackie gives my soul an extreme dose of serotonin. I also had this thought they other day while talking to a friend about how Bucky has the term of endearment “doll” that is known through the fandom, but Sam doesn’t really have one and a common term of endearment (that I’ve read, at least) in Louisiana is “cher”, which is a French word that they use because the whole creole/French-Cajun thing they have. So! Cher is my new term of endearment for Samuel T. Wilson! 

Anywho, this story was written with HBC’s Lucky in Love Day 22 prompt, Recognition, in mind. Please excuse any mistakes as it’s not beta’d and enjoy!

Day 14 - Influence, Day 18 - Occasion, Day 19 - Odds (all Bucky x Reader)

cjsinkythoughts’ Masterlist

There’s almost nothing he loves more than Louisiana. He loves the people, the history, the culture. The breeze from the water, the sound of the active docks, the people moving around as they do their job. This. This is home. And boy, has he missed home. 

“Sarah!”

He turns at the sound of the familiar voice, his breath leaving his body at the sight that meets his eyes.

And boy…has he missed that.

He recognizes her instantly, from the top of that pretty little head to the ends of her toes. She’s changed, obviously. It’s been quite a few years since they’ve seen each other. But she still has those beautiful eyes and that breathtaking smile.

She’s laughing at something his sister said, placing the box she brought down on the table besides them. His nephews run up to hug her and she quickly squeezes them back, giving them affectionate noogies.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He ambles up to the women, a smirk on his lips as he raises an eyebrow.

She turns to him, setting her hands on her hips and cocking her head. “Samuel Thomas Wilson.”

Her full name falls from his lips, mocking the way she just said his. “It’s been a while, cher.”

“That happens when you go off to join the Air Force and become an Avenger.” She teases, before turning to Sarah. “Can I get four pounds of trout fillet? Dinner party at my folk’s place tonight.”

“Of course! It’s gonna be $9.16.” Sarah tells her, eyeing Sam. “Let me go grab it for you.”

“Thank you, love.”

Sarah smiles, shooting her a wink. “Only the best for my best friend.”

When she’s gone, Sam leans on the wooden column, his lips pulling up. “How’ve you been, baby girl? A pretty little thing only deserves the best life can offer.”

Sam’s grin widens as she ducks her head, a little chuckle escaping her, before looking up again. “Not bad, Wilson. Not bad at all. Except for the whole dying thing. How about you? I hear life’s been pretty hectic.”

Sam shrugs, his smile slipping from his lips. “Yeah, well, it’s to be expected with everything that went down, ya know?”

She frowns and he wishes she didn’t. He already misses her smile. “I’m sorry. It must’ve been rough losing them. Him. He was a hero.”

“He was more than that. He was a good man.” Sam sighs, before shaking his head, not wanting to dampen the spirit of talking to her again. “It’s nice to come home and take a breather. Relax. Hopefully do some familiar things while I’m back if you catch what I’m throwin’ atcha.”

She giggles at his wink, shaking her head. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

“God, I hope so.” He’ll never get tired of seeing her crumble at his words. “What’re you doing now, baby girl?”

“I’m an RN.”

He can’t stop the proud grin from over taking his features. “Congrats! Finally got that license, then?”

She smiles back and nods vigorously. “Yup! It was a lot of work, but I got there.”

“I told you you would, cher.”

“You’ve always been my number one supporter, Sammy.” 

He winks. “And I always will, Y/N.” He meant it. He could remember all the tears and frustrations he witnessed during study sessions throughout high school and college. He knew it’d pay off. She’s smart and determined and he suddenly finds himself falling for her once again.

She hums, clearing her throat, before sweeping her eyes down his figure, her lips pursed. “You look good.”

He almost scoffs at the change in topic; she was never very good at talking about herself and her accomplishments. “Says you. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so stunning.”

An amused eyebrow quirks up as she bites her lip. “I don’t remember you being such a charmer.”

His cocky smile is back and he’s leaning in close to her. “I’ve matured a lot since we last saw each other, ya know.”

“Oh?” She looks over her shoulder. He follows her gaze and snickers a bit when his eyes land on his little sister. “Still immature enough to hit on your sister’s best friend, I see.”

“Hey now,” he defends quickly, taking a step towards her. “I recall someone coming onto their best friend’s older brother first.”

She laughs and it’s music to his ears. He really missed that laugh. He really missed that smile. “To be young and carefree again.”

He rolls his eyes at that, nodding dramatically. “Oh yeah. Sure. Carefree. As if sneaking around is carefree.”

“You say that as if no one knew you two were doing each other.” Sam huffs as his sister returns with Y/N’s box, now with the four pounds of trout fillet. “Seriously? Every time he came home you two would disappear. 

“We weren’t that conspicuous.”

“Bull. Shit.” Sarah snorted, handing Y/N the box. “Here you are, honey.”

“Thanks.” She replies, and Sam smirks at the suddenly shy tone. Sarah gives him a pointed look as she digs through her wallet, pulling out a ten. “Keep the change. I’ve gotta go. It was good seeing you again, Sammy.”

“You too, cher.” He watches her as she makes her way across the docks, giving the boys one last hug, before clambering in her car, placing the box on the passenger seat. He can’t keep his eyes off her, even as she’s driving away.

“Wow.” Sarah scoffs, crossing her arms and popping her hip. “It’s been over a decade and you two are still head over heels. I’m kinda surprised you recognized her.”

Sam blinks, his lips pulling up. “How could I not?”

[vostokovasmelina]

— 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟑𝐂. (𝐬.𝐰.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢  |  𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢 | 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

characters: fem!reader; sam wilson; archibald the tabby cat; sarah wilson

word count: 3.1k+

warning: mentions and descriptions of alcohol, death, grief, trauma, therapy, depression – i call this post-snap realism

series summary: after the blip, sam wilson gets home to an unpleasant surprise - his key doesn’t fit the lock anymore and his apartment is now inhabited by a stranger and a grumpy feline. however, the unusual encounter is only the beginning of their post-blip lives and the reader soon learns that what life takes away, it can give back in the most particular ways.

a/n: the ending is a dark unedited mess, so proceed with caution

Taking a cautious sip of your hot beverage, you watched this absolute gatecrasher of a man trying to make up his mind about whatever he was so confused about – Sam kept looking all around your apartment as if searching for something he had left there, his slightly lost and disoriented expression sending a sudden wave of guilt rushing over you. Now that you thought about it, it really must have sucked absolute cheese for him to come home hoping he could finally have that huge cup of strong black coffee he had been anticipating ever since having defeated that enormous purple bastard from Outer Space, only to find that his coffee machine was long gone and now this random lady with a philodendron problem and a judgmental cat were inhabiting the place with absolutely no room left for him whatsoever. It did sound tragic when you put it that way.

However, it really wasn’t your fault that you had needed to find a brand new residence approximately five years before. He really should have checked in with someone to make sure he still had somewhere to go home to. You were quite clearly the real victim here. And Lord only knew how poor Archie was going to process all the excitement of the day.

For a few seconds, you contemplated whether or not to put your thoughts into words, and eventually decided against it for the time being. The man had just helped save the world a few days before, after all, and out of what? Good conscience? Personally not for you, but you could appreciate it in others. And it would have been a real shame to die right when your fan-favourite succulents and killer new posting schedule had been attracting more Instagram followers than ever before. Thanks to the savior complex flaming inside of the gentleman standing before you though, the regular civilian had luckily escaped such terrible hardships. And special thanks to approximately a thousand and one other superheroes. Oh, and to an African country filled with similarly public-spirited people.

For a few awkwardly long seconds neither of you said a word. Sam kept looking around and you watched him look around, slowly lowering your mug onto the table and tilting your head slightly to the left. Weird how Sarah had never mentioned the brother believed to be dead for the last five years was this handsome. It is unfair, really. Some people are just naturally gorgeous no matter the shitty kitchen lighting, that tiny confused frown that had been sitting on their face for the last half hour, or those shiny black bugs for eyes tearing up ever so slightly to snitch on a long repressed yawn.

“Now that the drama is over and the Avengers as such are non-existent – have you considered a career in modeling yet?”

Sam snapped his head towards you with such force and speed that for a moment you were afraid you’d have to spend the rest of the afternoon sewing it back on his neck. You grabbed your mug still pretty much filled to the brim with tea and raised it back up to your mouth to hide your lingering half-smile behind a faded portrait of baby Archie on the ivory porcelain.

“Just saying, I would buy anything for this face on the package alone,” you continued with the confidence of a woman who hasn’t got a single drop of shame left in her body. But it was fine ‘cos you didn’t actually mean it, right? It was all just a joke, an attempt at lightening the mood and snapping him out of his puzzled melancholy. And that tiny flutter of your heart upon hearing Sam’s perfect little chuckle was but a momentary malfunction of the organ. The incident was purely physiological. No contribution from any emotional factors. It was simply an innocent coincidence that these two, completely unrelated things had co-occured.

So when your gazes met, you didn’t tear yours away in embarrassment – you stood your ground, completely unaffected and unbothered, ignoring the increasingly hot sensation in your cheeks when you saw Sam raise a cheeky eyebrow at you. Before even more damage could have been done, however, you decided to cut the party short.

“Oh, no. Don’t get your hopes up, Birdman. I simply couldn’t keep watching you in your deeply disturbed state.”

Very, very smooth. Cleared of all suspicion. Good job.

“Wow. Okay. That was cruel,” Sam scoffed and gave emphasis to his words by bringing up his right palm dramatically to his chest, right above his now most definitely broken heart. The overall effect got ruined by an annoyingly goofy grin in the end and before you even realised, you had already reached out for your massive mug again to drown your own erupting smile in the hot liquid.

In the silence that followed, however, you saw Sam’s smile fall ever so slightly, as if exhaustion or worry were holding onto the corners of his lips, physically tugging them down, and you shifted slightly uncomfortably in your seat. It was time you had stopped messing around with the poor guy.

“Look, I know this is weird but I’m sure we can find a solution. Just call Sarah so she can stop worrying now,” you suggested, finishing your tea and pushing the now empty mug to the middle of the table before leaning back in your seat.

“Ugh, yeah,” Sam started slowly, squatting down to get his mobile and the charger out of his massive sports bag. “Can I plug this in somewhere?”

You blinked at him a couple of times while he waited patiently for your answer. You could only imagine the number of missed calls and unread texts waiting for Sam on his phone, but you decided you didn’t know him enough to give him a lecture on behalf of his sister. So you just gave him a tired nod and gestured lazily towards your battered kitchen counter, Sam following your direction with his gaze.

“Above the microwave. Oh, and the socket farthest to the left–”

“–doesn’t work. I remember.” Sam flashed another exhausted but friendly smirk at you above his shoulder, and you allowed yourself to return the gesture to his back once he wasn’t watching.

���Right, sorry. Forgot I was the intruder here,” you joked, delighted to earn another one of those irritatingly lively chuckles of this man’s.

You seriously needed to get your shit together.

“Okay, while your phone is doing its thing, let’s call Sarah from mine, I guess” you continued, jumping up from your chair the moment Sam returned to the table and you headed towards your worn little couch where you scratched Archie gently behind his right ear. “Where have you put my phone, you dirty old man?” You cooed, smiling softly while sliding your hands under the cheap cushions and booping your irritated cat’s tiny nose when your fingers finally touched the cold metal you had been looking for.

Once seated again, you caught Sam staring at Archie, his eyes slightly narrowed in what appeared to be deep concentration. You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head, waiting for your uninvited guest to notice you.

“I don’t think your cat likes me too much,” he finally said, slowly tearing his gaze away from the pet feline’s and looking into your slightly more welcoming human eyes instead.

You chuckled dryly, turning around to see Archie in all his glory on the couch. He simply gave you an unbothered look before completely losing interest in the two of you, and he hopped of the couch, slowly making his way towards your bedroom where you knew he would bundle up under your bed on the cosy carpet. He had apparently decided it was time for his beauty sleep.

“Yeah, he’s like that with everyone. Nothing personal,” you assured Sam, who offered a tired half-smile in return. You cleared your throat gently, eyes fixed on your phone’s screen and fingers already searching for Sarah’s number. Once you had found it, you handed it to Sam whose only job left was to press the call button. You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly and he let out a sigh while reaching out for your mobile.

* * *

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Sarah. Quite the opposite, actually. But he was embarrassed. Sam knew full well how furious his sister was going to be. And honestly, rightfully so. He couldn’t argue with that. After all, she did say there had been something she wanted to talk to him about. And Sam did hang up on her without a passable excuse. And he did let his phone die on his way back home to Louisiana.

Yeah, he most probably wasn't going to be nominated for this year's Brother of the Year award.

Their last call had happened two days before. Two days is a long time without any news from a brother who had just returned after having been believed to be dead for the past five years. And if you had been to ask him, Sam wouldn’t have been able to tell you what had gotten into him either but ever since the Blip, something had not been exactly right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was going on, so he hadn’t brought it up to anyone, but his brain felt slow and foggy as if it hadn't had time to catch up yet.

Sometimes, Sam worried that the molecules in his brain had been mixed up and hadn't been put back into their original places in the process of the whole turning-into-dust-and-back-into-human-form-again thing.

It was a silly thought, yes, but with everything going on in the world, would it really be that hard to believe?

"Hey hon! What's up?" Sam's thought process was cut off by the endearing voice of his sister, and though he was aware all this affection was not directed towards him – given that he had called Sarah on your phone – his heart did swell upon hearing her again.

And then he said hi and it all went south from there.

Sarah was obviously pissed.

She asked Sam if he had any idea how many texts and missed calls she had left him, and no, he had no clue but if he had to guess, the number would have been way high up in the double digits.

Then she started going off on Sam, using different kinds of actually very creative euphemisms – which was a problem because Sam got so distracted by his sister's choice of words that her short, well-thought out rant had very little effect on him, but at least he had enough self-respect left to get his sister off speaker at this point.

"Look, Sarah, I know I messed up but I'm fine! I swear," he started, cutting his sister short while subconsciously picking at the skin around the nail on his index finger with his thumb. "What if I stop by Andy's and tell him to give me their best apple pie?" Sam added, hoping this promise would serve as an ice-breaker. Sarah did love her desserts. A lot. And Andy always gave a discount to the Wilson family, too.

When he heard his sister's tired sigh, Sam's heart gave a hopeful flutter, but he was rudely dragged back onto the ground on his way to cloud nine the very next second.

"I'm doing the shopping at the moment. Just got here and it's gonna take long," Sarah replied, annoyance poking through all her words. Then, the tension that had been dominating the pair's call suddenly seemed to evaporate as Sam sensed a weak shadow of a smile in her following sentence. "But that apple pie does sound good."

Sam couldn't help the grin that creeped its way onto his face and he didn't even care about Sarah's semi-serious threat, saying how they were nowhere near finished yet. He muttered out a quick sorry again, promised Sarah to give her regards to you and finished the call with a charming 'I love you' to which his sister replied with a snarky 'I bet' before hanging up with a promise that she would call again when she got home.

Sam let out a relieved chuckle before handing you back your phone and taking the final sip of his slightly lukewarm coffee, watching your bright red-nailed fingers tap away on the device, and he swallowed harder and probably louder than he had meant to. You just happened to put your phone down the very next second, so he tried to cover up the gulp by clearing his throat and shifting his gaze from your nails to your eyes.

Beautiful eyes.

Well shit.

"So, I guess you're staying," you started hesitantly, raising your eyebrows at Sam in a slightly impatient manner, which snapped him out of his blissful thoughts and thrust him back into reality.

Was he staying? He certainly had nowhere to go now that he was practically homeless and his sister was unable to welcome him in her own home for the next two hours, at least. But then again, you were a complete stranger whose afternoon he had just disrupted, and it didn't matter how weird it felt seeing you be so at home in his apartment because it wasn't his anymore. It was yours and you had all the right to kick Sam out and he had absolutely zero right to argue.

But, thankfully, he didn't have to.

"Which is fine, by the way. I did promise you an explanation, after all." Sam couldn't quite ignore the hint of dread behind your words and he was ready to object, to leave you alone and spend the rest of his afternoon doing God-knows-what, but then you offered him another cup of coffee followed by a tiny but honest smile, and Sam just couldn't bring himself to say no.

* * *

Sam Wilson was ridiculously easy to open up to.

It made you want to commit a crime.

His gaze was so intensely warm that after a while, you were looking at everything in your apartment but him just to avoid accidentally trauma dumping on him, especially when you got to the part about group therapy.

Because you had met Sarah at a group therapy session approximately four and a half years before.

It had been clear from the very first minute that neither of you had actually wanted to be there and that both of you had been forced into this situation. Sarah had been dragged to group by an overly enthusiastic co-worker of hers whose crush on the counselor had been probably more intense than the trauma she had suffered – she had lost a dog and her neighbor to the right whom she had always talked shit about behind his back. She was a nice enough woman, but considering that people had lost actual family in the Snap, her presence had always been mostly aggravating, to say the least.

In your case, it had been your grandmother who had bullied you into going to one of the sessions because 'she had the same rotten mentality when Miss Taylor told her to go but then she found it life-changing'. At this point, you had become so indifferent to everything in the world that you hadn't needed much convincing to go. You had told yourself it would be one session anyway after which you would have told Grandma Ethel that 'therapy was simply not for you' and could have been back to your usual Thursday evening routine consisting of a cheap bottle of red wine and depressing reruns of trashy British reality shows from the late 2000s.

The actual sessions had never worked for you. They might have if you had actually spoken up at any of them but you had never become quite ready to talk about your loss in front of a dozen other people, most of whom you had already known. But then you had met Sarah and something about her had made you feel secure, secure enough to talk about them for the first time, so you had started hanging out at a café not too far from the community center and it had become the best thing in your life.

"And the rest is history," you finished, getting up from your chair to put both yours and Sam's mug in the sink and watered your nearby plants while at it.

"I'm really glad Sarah had someone by her side," Sam commented and you could hear a hint of guilt in his words but you decided to ignore it. You simply nodded and muttered out a weak 'yeah', saying you were just as happy to have found a friend like Sarah.

Then Sam said something that made all the muscles in your body tense up and you froze completely for the next couple of seconds.

"And have you seen your family yet? Now that they've come back?"

It was an innocent question. He doesn't know the whole story. So calm down.

You slowly put down the glass you had used earlier to water your plants and tried with every particle in your body to put on the best toothpaste commercial-worthy smile you could force out of yourself before turning back towards Sam and answering his absolutely understandable question.

"Yeah!" No. "They're doing well, actually!" They're fucking dead.

Sam's genuinely happy smile was way too much to handle and if it hadn't been for a call from Sarah, you would have broken down in tears right in front of him the very next moment.

So instead of all that, you decided to turn right back around, pour yourself a huge glass of cold tapwater and down it in one breath while Sam finished his brief conversation with his sister. The stinging pain in your chest that followed was enough to distract your thoughts until he was finally at the door, saying goodbye and thanking your for the coffee and saying sorry for intruding and taking absolutely way too fucking long to finally leave.

"Hey, um... I could give you my number? If you ever need anything or..."

He can't be serious.

"Sure! You can, ugh, put it in my phone," you replied, your hands shaking dangerously as you reached into your back pocket for your mobile and handed it to Sam, who knew better than to comment on it.

Once finished, he returned your phone with one of those irritatingly joyful smiles of his and with a final 'see you around' Sam Wilson was off and you proudly patted yourself on the back for successfully holding it together until you finally reached your couch.

* * *

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[martelldoran]

unsolicited tfatws opinions because i have them vol. 1

warning: here be spoilers

starting on the positive because there were things i did like in the episode

things i liked

sam wilson: *exists*

me:

sam's storyline was definitely the strongest of the two in this ep and i liked pretty much everything he did.

the opening aerial fight! was! so! cool! seeing batroc again was a nice nod to tws too and an interesting parallel to steve's lumerian star fight. i loved seeing his quick tactical thing, seeing how he fights, and the way he utilises the wings even in close quarters.

sam speaks arabic!

sam fixes redwing! (validation of a hc of mine that he's good with robotics. maybe that's a widely held fandom one as well? idk)

i instantly found torres to be really endearing and i'm looking forward to seeing more of him throughout the series. the relationship between him and sam has a lot of potential.

the manipulation of the government and general set up for sam's storyline felt strong. good basis for a story and pertinent to the current political landscape.

sam's speech as he handed over the shield was well written and gave me the same kind of vibes as the 'the price of freedom is high' speech. they could be quite nicely paralleled side by side.

sam's family! look, i'm a sucker for domestic moments for our faves so the entire sequence where we got this insight into sam's past, his relationship with his sister, and where he's come from was brilliant. i like sarah a lot and seeing her frustration with her brother for trying to come in and fix things when he's been gone for so long felt really realistic. i felt for her a lot. because you can tell there's so much there bubbling under the surface, a mix of love and resentment and frustration that was palpable as they talked about what to do with their parents' house/boat/business. so, give me all of the sarah wilson moments pls n thnx.

seeing the consequences of the snap (hi, i am refusing to call it the fucking blip. marvel, my god, get better names for shit.) idk how in depth they're really going to go into it all but at least they attempted something here with the scenes at the bank.

bucky's nightmare sequence as the winter soldier. it was such a brilliant reminder about how terrifying tws actually is. he's silent and ominous and THAT MUSIC. his presence is legitimately unsettling from the moment you see him. (but he runs around like a bull in a china shop which does make me 🤔 when i remember he's supposed to be a g h o s t s t o r y. idk. not exactly stealth and shadow work. but that doesn't look cool on screen so 🤷🏻‍♀️)

and on that note, vindication of my 'they sleep on the floor after coming back' headcanon. literally had raymond holt screaming in my head the second i saw bucky wake up on his living room floor. does my heart break for him? yes. was i smug about being right? also yes.

leah seems cool. could she actually be telepathic??? since she hit every single one of bucky's boats while they played battleships? i would like to see it. 😂 there's def more to her character than meets the eye since she's slated to be in all six episodes.

bucky having one (1) old man friend even if the reason behind it was heartbreaking.

so, yeah. these things i genuinely liked.

things i didn't like

the therapy scene. i genuinely hated it. there's a different between a no nonsense therapist and someone being deliberately antagonistic and that definitely erred on the side of the latter imo. she tells him to 'get over it' and mocks him for not reaching out and meeting people. media in general doesn't do a good job of depicting therapy so this is just yet another poor offering into the canon. i'm tired. i want healthy depictions of therapy already. it's supposed to be a supportive environment ffs.

plus she kept calling him james 🤮 genuinely wouldn't be surprised if she turns out to be a bad guy plant. which i think is a cliche at this point? 🤔

bucky's new look. which i know we've seen before now but i've not offered my unsolicited opinion on it. it's just sebastian stan in an ugly leather jacket. it's generic male lead#346. it's broification. someone said they made him look like brock rumlow and now i can't unsee it. 😭 rip to bucky with the good hair. i'd have loved to see him with some curls tbh. or a wave that kind of calls back to his pre-war days. anyway. i digress. character design is 0/10.

would have been nice to see him cut his hair as a marker of him starting a new chapter and coming into his own personhood.

rhodey's disability was just? glossed over? no visible assistive tech at all?

the date. just the fact it was there at all. it was heavy handed and not subtle and we know why they put that in there within the first 10 minutes of bucky's screen time. that's all i'm going to say about it. if you follow me, you know where i stand. we don't need poorly written romance. get it in the bin.

there was no acknowledgement of bucky's relationship with steve. if there was a memorial to be had then bucky should have been there. maybe these will come later but i'm not holding my breath.

is steve dead? i assumed that the party line was that young steve died in the battle and no-one knew about old steve . but did they actually kill steve off-screen? what a kick in the teeth if that's the case. let me just cut open a wound for them to pour the salt straight into, shall i?

things i'm mostly neutral on

john walker. he looks like a cop and his wink at the camera gave me the creeps but i'm interested to see how that pans out. i hope sam beats 50 shades of star spangled shit out of him.

the flag smashers. premise of a world without borders is interesting and a believable concept given what's happened in universe. there's a lot of scope there i think. that said, the name is dumb.

right. i think that covers everything for now. my expectations going in were really low, i won't lie. before the premiere i tried to stay away from the trailers and tv spots and the hype in general so i was pleasantly surprised at how much i enjoyed certain aspects of the show.

in conclusion, some good, some bad, some ugly and i will be cherry picking my favourite nuggets for fic at a later point. also, i'm still a skrull!Steve truther. real steve is chilling with some wakandan goats 😌💖✨

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

When We Were Young (Part III)

Dean x Fem!Reader; Sam x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Read part I here ; Read part II here. 

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Y/N grew up together, but when she’s taken away for over 10 years, the boys have no idea what she’s been through. Will asking her to move into the bunker with them reveal more than she’s ready for?

2856 words

⚠️ Warning⚠️ this chapter is pretty dark.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of trauma/abuse, brief moments of self-harm, mentions of anxiety attack

You heard Dean's voice as you hid in the darkness.

"Ready or not! Here I come!"

You felt Sam shift next to you and heard his innocent little giggle of anticipation of being found by his big brother. You shushed him lightly with a smile to let him know you weren't serious. You didn't care if Dean found you two, if anything that meant you were in for a relentless tickle war between you and the young Winchesters, with loser buying the candy for movie night, meaning begging Bobby to pay for the candy. And you always won because little known fact, Dean's feet are ticklish and you always pinned him long enough for him to call "uncle."

Sam begged you and Dean to play ‘hide & seek,’ and though both of you claimed to be "too old for kid games," Sam's puppy dog eyes won you over. And you always won over Dean. He agreed to count first if you and him could play Mario later and you nodded, knowing you'd say yes to anything involving hanging out with Dean. John and your father had been gone about a week on their latest hunt, leaving you to entertain an 8 year old Sam and a moody 'almost' teenage Dean at Bobby’s house. You were almost 10 and stuck between wanting to be a kid like Sam, but wanting Dean's attention just as much. It honestly was a dilemma.

Dean smirked at your response and started counting and you and Sam took off running toward the upstairs of Bobby's house, tucking yourself deep into a bedroom closet under some old blanket. The perfect hiding place, if you kept totally quiet. Which Sam wasn't.

The perfect hiding place. Perfect hiding place. Hiding place... hide!

You were cowering under a blanket tucked deep in your foster parents’ bedroom, when you heard the giggling.

“Y/N!” Your older foster brother sing-songed, searching for you in the bedroom. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

After your father’s funeral, you jumped from foster home to foster home, always the only child, with too much attention from the foster parents. You began acting out for negative attention, and the agency decided it was a better fit to have you in a home with other kids. So you ended up with the Wilson family, which included their eldest Greg who was sixteen, and young Daniel, their newest foster. The thought of having brothers again was exciting, but you had been in this foster home for only 2 days when you woke up to Greg creeping into your room late one night. You tried to talk to your foster mom about it, but Greg was her biological son, and he could do no wrong in her eyes. She just giggled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and saying “boys will be boys.” The door to your bedroom opened every night for the next 7 nights and then your foster mom went on a weekend trip with your foster dad and left Greg to babysit you and young Daniel, who was only five.

The first day alone, when Greg agreed to ‘hide & seek’ Daniel squealed excitedly, and Greg wolf grinned at you, whispering for you to find a big area away from Daniel for you and him to have some fun. You shuddered in response, yanking Daniel by the hand up the stairs as you heard Greg start counting.

“Ready or not here I come!”

Daniel giggled in anticipation of his older brother finding him and you shushed him once angrily, watching as his eyes fell, no longer enjoying the game. It broke your heart to ruin Daniel’s fun, but this was no longer a game. And with Greg searching in the bedroom you were trapped.

Trapped.

With Sam and Dean blocking the exits you slid down the wall to a seated position pulling your legs up to your chest, curling yourself into a ball, as small as you could, hoping it would cause them to just lose interest like Greg did a few times, unable to unhook your arms from your legs.

Dean and Sam gave each other worried looks before Sam knelt down to your level careful not to touch you. Dean watched cautiously from the sidelines, realizing his reaction to the situation was more harmful than helpful. Sam was much better at getting through to people.

You were rocking back and forth slowly, humming “Sweet Caroline,” softly to yourself, realizing that it was so comforting because it was what Dean used to sing when he wanted to make you laugh. The “bum bum bum” part always threw you into a fit of giggles the more dramatic he performed it. Greg would always shout at you to shut up if he heard you humming it, during the darkest moments.

“Y/N? Sweetheart...?” Sam tried, careful to gauge your reaction to his voice. He attempted to keep his tone as calm and level as possible, but could feel his heart pounding, concern and worry at the situation coursing through him. You didn’t react to his voice, but he noticed you stopped humming, almost as if you were listening. He took that as a good sign.

“Sweetheart, how about you let me and Dean help you off the floor? You’re safe here, Y/N, we won’t hurt you.” You were nodding to yourself now and Sam didn’t know if it was in agreement or if you were reacting to something else entirely. He glanced up at Dean, seeing the worry etched across his features. Sam jumped when he heard your voice.

“Hey, Sammy?” You weren’t necessarily looking at him but your chin was resting on your arms now rather than hidden. Sam made sure to move slowly to face you again.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You cracked a small smile, glancing up into his eyes, which were a dark, almost navy blue. He’s worried, you thought to yourself. Mood ring eyes.

“Remember when you were probably around 8, and Dean was almost a teenager and John and my dad went on a hunt leaving us at Bobby’s?” It was asked as a question, but Sam merely nodded, unsure of where this was going. You had a smile on your face, lost in one of your favorite memories. “You convinced me to play ‘hide and seek,’ and I so wanted to tell you I didn’t wanna play any baby games. I wanted to look cool in front of Dean.” You chuckled to yourself and Sam smiled, looking at Dean, who was intensely listening, an unreadable look on his face.

“You had this way of convincing me to do things. It wasn’t your puppy dog eyes, though those helped too, but more your excitement of being around me and Dean. You just wanted to be around us and it was so annoying at the time.” You laughed again, looking at Sam who looked mildly offended, and you unballed yourself enough to place a hand on Sam’s arm. “But endearing.” You finished, watching Sam roll his eyes lightly and you retracted your hand, curling back up.

“You convinced me to play hide and seek and for some reason I was able to convince Dean...” You were deep in thought, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you gathered your thoughts and Sam and Dean didn’t dare interrupt you. “And me and you hid in the back of Bobby’s closet. The perfect hiding place.” You didn’t seem to be speaking to Sam and Dean anymore, but rather yourself as you fixed your stare on one of the bricks on the wall in front of you.

“I’ve hid in the back of a closet since then... but it wasn’t the perfect hiding spot that time.” You had tears in your eyes as you looked at Sam, who was still crouched down to your level. “It wasn’t perfect.” You repeated and Sam slowly reached out, placing his hand on your knee. You shifted slightly at his touch, but didn’t jerk away.

“Can I go back to sleep now?” You asked, looking into Sam’s steel grey eyes. They kept changing color but you were too tired to read them for emotion anymore.

“Of course...” Sam answered, waiting for your next move before making his.

“Can I sleep in your room?” You asked suddenly, lifting your head up to look at Dean for the first time since falling to the floor. Dean looked startled and unsure of what to say. Sam was starring daggers at his brother silently begging him to figure his shit out and fast. Dean cleared his throat and murmured “of course,” and you got to your feet walking in that direction, pausing at the door and waiting for Dean. Sam rose to his feet, and you waved shyly, as Dean ushered you into the room and closed the door.

——————

Behind closed doors, you were unsure of yourself again. The familiar smell of Dean’s bedroom cleared your head a bit and you panicked. What are you doing in here?!

“Uh,” Dean started, clearing his throat again, making you jump a little. “What side do you want to sleep on?” He questioned quietly, standing in your peripheral, and waiting for your answer. You pointed to the right side of the bed and he nodded climbing under the covers on the left and turning away from where you would lay. You took a deep breath and crawled into his bed. Dean clicked off his table lamp and bathed the room in darkness. You lay silently on your back, holding your breath trying to control the erratic pounding of your heart. Dean stirred lightly, turning to lay on his back as well. It was silent for a moment.

“I remember playing hide and seek that day.” Dean spoke quietly, unsure of himself in this moment. But you turned on your side to rest on your arm so you could look at him.

“Yeah?” You questioned, wanting to know what was on his mind. More and more you were unable to read this man like you could when you were kids and it was frustrating. He seemed almost as guarded as you were and you actually needed him to speak his mind to you.

He turned toward you mirroring your position. “Yeah, you and Sam were curled up under that musty old blanket in the back of Bobby’s closet. I remember I was so mad because I could hear Sam giggling but it sounded muffled so I thought it was coming from other rooms.” You smiled at the memory, watching Dean scrunch his eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember something that happened almost 15 years ago. Seeing your smile, Dean continued with his memory.

“I figured we would play ‘hide & seek’ for maybe half an hour to get Sam to leave us alone, and then spend the afternoon playing Mario, but we went back and forth hiding and seeking for the entire day. I think that’s the most I had ever hung out with my kid brother...” He smiled fondly at the memory.

“It was dark outside when I finally found you the last time in that tiny bathroom cabinet.” You snorted quietly, remembering how hard it was to squeeze yourself into that hiding place and you cursed the fact that you had begun growing hips and were filling out some.

Dean watched you as you filled in the rest of the memory for yourself with a smile on his face. He reached up slowly, moving a piece of hair from in front of your face to behind your ear, the pads of his fingers sliding carefully across your cheek, leaving your skin feeling hot. You closed your eyes at his touch, and his hand lingered at the back of your head, fingers softly curled in your hair.

You had a flash of hair pulling and a voice screaming at you to just listen and do what he wanted, and you jerked your head back, causing Dean to unintentionally pull your hair. You cried out softly, tears falling from your eyes, the memory lingering.

“Hey, hey, baby, it’s okay.” Dean whispered softly, as you inched yourself away from him. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, reaching out for you carefully. You resigned to your need for comfort and scooted into his open arms, letting him cradle you against his chest. Breathing in whiskey and leather, mixed with what you thought was vanilla, you pressed your hand against his heart, feeling it beat steadily against your palm. You attempted to match your breathing to his and waited for the silent tears to stop. Dean rubbed soothing circles against your back, and softly against your head where your hair had been pulled.

You didn’t know why, but between the safety of Dean’s arms and the security of the darkness, you spoke out loud what had been weighing on your soul for more than half your life.

“When my dad died, and John couldn’t get custody, I went into the system back in New Jersey. Honestly, it’s not quite as bad there as other states, and I actually was placed with some really cool people. I especially miss the man I was with who was clearly gay, that taught me how to perfect the smokey eye look.” You chuckled, and you felt the rumble in Dean’s chest as he murmured along, his hands continuing to comfort you in any way that he could.

“As I went from home to home I got sick of all the attention. Most people were nice, and I had everything I needed, but I don’t know, I missed the drama. And I missed sharing my dad with the hunt. It sounds backwards, but we tried so hard to fit big moments into small amounts of time and that made those moments so much more special. The everyday wasn’t appealing anymore.” You felt Dean’s head nod, not wanting to interrupt you, but let you know he understood nonetheless.

“Anyway, when I started acting out, they decided I needed to go to a home with other kids to level me out. Or knock me down a peg, who knows. I was placed with a couple that had a sixteen-year-old son and were fostering a five year old. I was thrilled because instantly I thought of you and Sam...” You glanced up into Dean’s cool green eyes guiltily. He only smiled, urging you to continue.

“Things were okay to start. Back to normal life, but the sixteen-year-old Greg, was moody and would act out and I liked the drama he created. And I liked him. He was what you would probably consider ‘emo’ today, with long dark hair and a lip ring. I followed him around the first day or so, like I used to do with you, just curious how he spent his days. And I don’t know maybe I led him on...”

Dean’s grip tensed as you trailed off, and he tilted your chin so you could look him in the eye. A silent tear slipped down your cheek, and you saw anger flash behind the forest green of his irises before he swiped at the tear with the pad of his thumb. You couldn’t stand seeing his reaction, but you had gone too far to stop now.

“He started sneaking into my bedroom at night, but because his parents were home, he couldn’t exactly do what he wanted. But it didn’t matter because I told his mom and she didn’t care... thankfully he didn’t find that out.” You could feel how tense Dean was getting and his hands stopped moving across your back, but you had to get this out. Had to confess to someone what happened.

“My foster parents left me and the five year old, Daniel, alone for a whole weekend with Greg. I still remember how excited he looked and how he wouldn’t stop staring at me as they told us the plans over dinner. The weekend came and Daniel was in a mood. Wanted us to play with him and I made sure to keep him entertained while Greg brooded about, not able to do what he wanted. When Daniel suggested ‘hide and seek,’ Greg jumped on the opportunity, telling me to hide away from Daniel and we’d finally have our time. I clung to Daniel and rushed to find a hiding spot. The perfect hiding spot...” You glanced at Dean and saw the pieces of the night click into place.

“I shoved Daniel into the upstairs closet covering him with a blanket and was about to hide with him when I thought of a better idea. My foster dad had a gun safe and my dad taught me how to break into those early on. I grabbed the Glock and waited in the closet under the blanket with Daniel.” You tensed, anticipating the conclusion of the story and suddenly afraid of how Dean would react to what you were about to say. You took a deep breath before speaking. 

“And when Greg opened the closet door and pulled back the blanket, I emptied the clip into his chest.”

When We Were Young Tag List: @vicmc624​

Read part IV here.

[atomicradiogirl]

house md season 5 episode 4 TOP 10 ANIME RELATIONSHIP COMEBACKS

[takaraphoenix]

Review: Loki

It was actually really surprisingly enjoyable.

I was very skeptical - I mean, in general, because I have lost all trust or faith in the MCU, but more so due to the “buddy cop time travel” thing that just sounds like the weirdest take you could go with for Loki.

And yet here I am, thinking that I would have absolutely watched a full 22 episode order of buddy cop time travel shenanigans. That was the best part of this show.

Owen Wilson was amazing in this, it was such a refreshing delight to see him again and see him in this quite frankly different role. I also thought that his chemistry with Tom worked well, they played off each other so easily and quickly established a bond between each other that made the dynamic between their characters work. That’s the kind of energy you want from a buddy cop duo (and probably why Owen was cast; the man just works in these kind of situations, you can pair him up with anyone and it’s smooth sailing).

And it wasn’t just Owen. Admittedly, the start was a little slow and very... parodic in its ridiculousness, how they processed Loki and all, but once the buddy cop dynamic was established and Loki got into this concept, got really engaged in it and started being a total nerd who got invested in investigating this, Tom really shone for me. His excitement alone was really contageous and made that even more enjoyable.

Episodes 1 and 2 were peak of this show for me, with that and them in the focus.

And then they introduced Sylvie and... honestly, she was the worst part of the show for me. The character itself was incredibly bland, the show did more to make me grow attached to minor characters who only got letters and numbers instead of names than it did to endear me to her and the forced heteronormativity wasn’t helping either.

And no, not just heteronormativity because m/f, because m/f romances can work too and can be engagingly written. But heteronormativity is set of short-hand jerk-off ways that they expect this to be accepted as a romance because it was A Boy and A Girl looking at each other for multiple seconds, suddenly there’s something romantic going on there, but just in case you haven’t caught on yet, another character will explicitly spill it out because they know they haven’t done enough to establish anything at that point. Relying on the fact that people expect the Leading Lady and the Leading Man to end up together. And that just falls flat to me as a person who’s been tired of this narrative since the 90s.

Moving on. Meeting the bunch of alternate Lokis was a lot of fun, seeing them all interact with each other was very interesting. I would have liked to learn more about them - via flashbacks, not just dialogue. Instead of just having them tell stories, I would have liked to actually see these other worlds, even just in brief scenes. Also the alligator was really, really cute.

One very much expected major gripe was the... queerness. It was about what I expected from Disney, to be honest. One handwavey comment about Loki liking men and women alike and that’s it, we move on from that. His own startledness about a female Loki and every other dude Loki’s reaction to the notion just driving home the lack of genderfluid Loki. This show, a show centered around Loki, had been Disney’s opportunity to give some genuine queer rep, to make up for past easy to cut bullshit. But I see they still don’t care and I’m not even surprised. Just tired.

Lastly, I really think they projected the whole Enchantress thing a bit too... much. She’s blonde and wearing green and is an Asgardian with barely any memories of her past on Asgard in a way that quite frankly left open for debate whether she even was a Loki, that’d have been enough for season 1. But nearly every fifth line from her included the word “ENCHANT”, spoken as forcefully as physically possible to really make sure the audience can hear that this word is special when coming from her. I’m going to guess that she turns out to not be a Loki at all and just be an, I don’t know, Amora without proper memories or whose memories got mixed up with Loki’s considering Sylvie’s done memory-reading and mind-meddling all throughout this season, but whatever they’re going to do with it, it’s going to end with her becoming a version of the Enchantress. (Still, with how hard they pushed the Loki/Sylvie agenda, there is just no way Sylvie is actually Loki. Disney ain’t kinky enough to make selfcest canon.)

So, that went off-track a little bit. Anyway, not a bad show, wish it would have dialed back on the romance like way back, should have focused far more on the time buddy cop angle, could have done with more diving into the other Lokis.

[siancore]

Title: Take a Break

Summary: Sam’s been training too hard, to the point of frustration, and injures himself a little. Bucky takes care of him. BONUS: They were roommates! 

A/N: *tosses this light-angsty-fluffy-domestic SamBucky one-shot at you*

Warnings: Language; Hurt/Comfort; Self-Doubting Sam

Word Count: 1,970

He’d been at it for the better part of the day; slinging the shield at the makeshift targets. It would whirr through the air and sometimes connect with what he was aiming for; other times, most times, it would end up in the bushes. He really wanted to get it right. He was practising with so much diligence and with such dedication, and was getting better, from what Bucky could tell; but he was also getting frustrated. And maybe over-working himself by pushing his body too far.

“Wilson, why don’t you take a break?” said Bucky from where he was standing near the house as he watched Sam jog to the place the shield had landed after missing its mark. Sam offered nothing in reply.

“Sam, c’mon.”

“No,” was all Sam said, causing Bucky to sigh.

“You’re gonna put too much strain on your arm –”

“You don’t think I can do this, either?” Sam interjected, as he walked back to his spot. “Well, you’re not the only one, ‘cause everyone else thinks so, too, so get in line.”

He didn’t mean to be so short with Bucky, but he was irritated. He and Bucky had been growing closer having spent so much time together the past few weeks. When they were finally afforded the chance to settle down and catch their breaths, Sam was intent on perfecting his skill with the shield. Things were going slow, but he was improving. He just needed to be more patient with himself and know when it was time to rest.

“Sam, come on,” said Bucky, as he walked closer to his friend. “That’s not what I meant. I’m worried you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout me,” Sam proffered. “I’m a big boy, Barnes.”

“I know,” said Bucky, stopping near Sam. “But big boys can injure themselves if they’re not careful.”

Sam saw the genuine concern in Bucky’s eyes. He felt something akin to fondness swirl around inside of him; had been feeling it more and more as of late whenever Bucky said or did something he found endearing. But he couldn’t let Bucky’s charms distract him from the task at hand.

“Thanks, Barnes,” said Sam, as he turned to ready himself for his next throw. “But I’ll be alright.”

…..

Later that evening, Sam Wilson was, in fact, not all right. He walked into their home and looked a little stiff; Barnes noticed.

“You okay, Wilson?” he asked, honest concern etched across his face as he took in Sam’s appearance.

“Yeah, dude,” he replied, not meeting Bucky’s gaze. “Just need a shower.”

Bucky nodded, but was still worried about the way Sam’s right arm hung limply at his side. He said nothing else as he watched Sam walk away. He listened, waiting for the shower to turn on, then figured Sam might want something to eat after his vigorous training session. He went to see what they had in the fridge, and then groaned; he would probably need to make a quick trip to town to pick up some take-out. He didn’t want to leave just yet, in case Sam needed him for whatever reason after his shower. Bucky closed the door of the fridge, ran his hand through his short tresses, and then made his way back to the living room.

While scanning the pages of a local agricultural magazine, Bucky was drawn from the article about eco farming by Sam’s presence. Bucky lifted his gaze to glance at Sam before his eyes went wide: He was shirtless. Shirtless with small rivulets of water running down his perfectly formed body. Bucky let his eyes roam over Sam’s broad chest and defined abs before gathering his wits and tearing his gaze away. He cleared his throat and placed the magazine down on the couch.

“Feel better?” he asked, trying not to be distracted by Sam’s state of undress.

“I dunno,” said Sam, trying to roll his shoulder. “Think I messed something up; pulled something. I couldn’t lift my arm properly to even get a shirt on.”

Bucky was concerned, but the reminder of the fact Sam was shirtless drew his eyes back to the other man’s body once more. He really needed to stop ogling his roommate and focus.

“And don’t say I told you so,” Sam added. “Can’t deal with you bein’ a smug asshole right now.”

“Lemme see,” Bucky replied, gesturing for Sam to come close.

Sam stepped over to where Bucky was standing. They locked eyes a beat longer than was necessary before Bucky placed a tentative hand to Sam’s shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” he asked while applying some pressure.

“Yeah, a little.”

“In the bone or muscle?”

“Muscle,” said Sam. “And the joint?”

“Okay, take a seat,” said Bucky. “Let’s try a warm compression. Wait here, and I’ll get a towel. Fix you up in no time.”

He gave Sam a small, reassuring grin, and then made his way to the bathroom. Sam sat down and tried to roll his shoulder once more, but winced at the discomfort. Bucky returned soon thereafter and set about alleviating Sam’s aching joint.

He held a small towel that he had submerged in hot water a moment.  

“I’m just gonna put this here,” said Bucky, as he placed the towel to Sam’s shoulder. “Keep it on there until it goes cold.”

Sam nodded and then Bucky went back into the bathroom. He returned with a glass of water and two ibuprofen pills.

“Take these for the inflammation,” said Bucky, handing them over to Sam. “I’m just gonna do a run into town to grab some food for dinner. You stay here and rest.”

“Okay, Doctor Barnes,” said Sam jokingly. “But seriously, man, thank you.”

Bucky gave Sam a gentle smile, and said, “Don’t be stubborn. Sit here and take it easy until I get back.”

…..

When Bucky returned, he found Sam sitting with his eyes closed, and the towel still pressed to his shoulder. He was a sight to behold. Pretty and relaxed; angelic. Bucky stood admiring his good looks a moment. He could stand there for the rest of the night and take in the pleasant view, he mused, but his friend was probably hungry, too.

“Sam?” he asked softly, thinking the other man had dozed off to sleep.

“Yeah?” asked Sam, with his eyes still closed.

“How does it feel now?”

“Better,” said Sam, as he opened his eyes, glanced at Bucky, and removed the towel.

Bucky smiled and said, “Great. Sit tight, let me grab some plates for our food, and then I’ll have another look.”

He placed their take-out dinner on the coffee table and then went into the kitchen; before he could grab the plates, Sam followed behind him.

“I told you to sit tight.”

Sam rolled his eyes and said, “I’m fine, Barnes. I can help you grab a couple o’ plates. Besides, it’s only a little stiff now.”

“You’re such a stubborn ass,” said Bucky, as he abandoned his task at hand, walked over to Sam, and gently took hold of his left arm. “C’mon.”

“Barnes –” Sam protested weakly as Bucky led him back to the living room.

“What?”

“You don’t need to fuss,” said Sam, as he stopped and gently pulled out of Bucky’s grasp.

Bucky let out a huff, sat on the sofa and said, “C’mon. C’mere.”

Sam gave him a questioning look and raised a brow.

“Get your stubborn ass over here so I can give you a shoulder rub.”

“Buck, seriously?”

“Yes, now move, Soldier.”

Sam sighed, but there was no real irritation behind it. He actually found Bucky’s concern endearing. It was nice to have someone worry about him; to have someone care for him. Sam tried to ignore the fluttering in his tummy when he saw the soft expression on Bucky’s face.

“Sam, please,” said Bucky. “Let me take care of you.”

Sam relented and moved toward the couch. He took up a seat, and Bucky settled in behind him. When Bucky placed a hand to Sam’s skin, Sam leaned into his touch.

“Do you even know how to give a proper shoulder rub?”

“Basic training.”

“What about it?”

“That’s where I learned to give a shoulder rub,” Bucky explained. “Recoil on rifles can hurt like hell.”

Sam nodded in response, knowing that to be true. Bucky went to work, gently circling his thumb over Sam’s skin. Using his fingers to knead his tired muscles while applying pressure with his palm. He felt the other man relax under his touch. He smiled to himself when Sam let out a tiny, very delightful moan.

“Anyone ever tell you your fingers are like magic?” Sam queried, his voice low and languid; it did something to Bucky, hearing Sam sound like that. He had to stay focussed and not let the other man’s rich tone distract him.

“You got no idea,” said Bucky, immediately chiding himself for sounding too flirty with his roommate.

“So, you went out of your way to prove to me you got magic fingers?” Sam teased, and then grew somewhat serious. “Seems like we both want to prove ourselves in our own way. You with the magic touch, and me with the Cap stuff.”

“Hey,” said Bucky, as he stilled his massaging. “You don’t have anything to prove, Sam. You’re the right man for the job. Stop doubting yourself, and do what you do best; what you were born to do: Be a hero the people need. Don’t sweat the small things, sweetheart.”

Sam nodded his head and took in what Bucky was saying as he offered a sincere, “Thank you.”

Sam then focussed on the warm palm of the other man’s hand that lingered on his naked skin. They could each feel the mood shift in their quaint living room. The electricity between them was profound; Bucky swore he could feel it dancing across his skin.  

“Y’know –”

“Sam, I –”

They both laughed at the fact they went to speak at the same time.

“You go,” said Bucky, as he began to massage Sam’s shoulder once more.

“I was gonna say,” Sam started. “That you bein’ all sweet with me is nice. But you don’t have to butter me up to cop a feel; all you gotta do is ask.”

It was playful and teasing and caused Bucky to let out a little chuckle as his face grew warm.

“It ain’t that. I mean, this sure is nice an’ all,” said Bucky, referring to the physical contact between them. “But I’m not tryin’ to butter you up. I care about you.”

The playful moment faded away as the seriousness of Bucky’s words settled in around both men.

“And I wanna take care of you,” Bucky added. “I don’t ever like seeing you hurt, Sam. So, stop bein’ so stubborn and pushin’ yourself past your limits. There’ll be plenty of fights in our future, so quit fightin’ yourself.”

Sam shifted away from Bucky a little so he could turn and face him.

“When did you get so smart, uh?” asked Sam, as he searched Bucky’s eyes. There was a softness there that made his breath hitch.

“I think all your smarts rubbed off onto me,” said Bucky with a coy smile. “You’re the smartest guy I know. Your brave and strong. You’re loyal. You can literally fly. You’re the best, Sam. The absolute best. And you’ll get the knack of that shield soon enough. Just don’t wear yourself thin in the process. I kinda need you.”

“You need me?”

“Of course I do,” said Bucky, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So, look after yourself, okay? For me.”

“Okay,” Sam replied with a smile that lit up his face and caused Bucky’s heart to skip a beat. “For you.”

[beckzorz]

caduto dalle nuvole (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Words: 5012 Summary: A detour on a mission leads to destruction, and a discovery. Warnings: Canon-typical violence and gore. A/N: Happy Secret Seba, Paige @sebastiansloserclub​​!!!! It was a pleasure to write for you! Thank you to @jobean12-blog​​ for beta reading <3 The title, “caduto dalle nuvole,” is an Italian idiom that means literally “fallen from the clouds” and figuratively “taken aback.” Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy xoxo

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Any questions?”

You close the mission briefing and tuck the file under your arm as you stand, just barely controlling the tic in your jaw. “None, Captain.”

“Good.” His relief is palpable. “The jet leaves in ninety minutes. Good luck, agent.”

—

“I’ll be back,” Antonio says, and then he slams the barn door shut.

You gape. A key scrapes against a lock. Your heart stops for a horrible moment, and then you bolt forward.

“Hey!”

You slam into the door, body and door shaking from the impact. A chain rattles on the other side, and a car engine starts to purr.

“Hey!” you scream.

The car drives off, grinding against the gravel drive. You bang your fists against the door, rage clouding your vision, filling your veins.

Behind you, your partner lets out a breath and a thump. You turn, blinking away the red in your vision, and stare.

Bucky Barnes is sitting on a pile of hay, hands clasped between his spread thighs and his expression sardonic.

“Well,” he says. “That went well.”

You whirl back to the door, teeth clenched. You can’t manage a reply, not when it was his idea to hitchhike instead of taking the bus. Your own mother had hitchhiked across Europe in the seventies, but it’s not the seventies anymore. It’s decades later, and now… now you’ve been kidnapped. Kidnapped!

“We’re literally locked in a barn,” you snap. “And you just want to sit there?!”

Bucky sighs. “Look, this guy clearly has something up his sleeve. I did some research in the back seat while you were being sociable. SHIELD’s made a note of this guy before. Our mission isn’t so urgent that we can’t delay a day to figure out what his deal is.”

You lean your shoulder against the door and gape at him. “What, you think Steve will just say, ‘Sure, Buck, that’s totally fine! It’s not like I specifically tasked you to find these dangerous terrorists or anything?’”

“Uh, that’s what he said, yeah.” Bucky shifts on the haypile and holds up his phone. “I texted him to check.”

“Typical,” you mutter. You turn back to the door, the start of a headache pricking at your temples. You crouch down and peer through the crack of the barn door, looking for the chain.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks. His voice seems small in the open barn.

You don’t answer. What’s the point? Surely it’s obvious. Why else would you be studying the way out except to break out? To enjoy the view?

Besides, it’s not like he ever tells you anything. If you hadn’t asked, would he have even mentioned he’d spoken with Steve?

He’s never told you anything he hasn’t needed to.

You stare at the chain through the gap in the door. It’s afternoon outside—if you rattle the door, you can see the sun glinting off the shifting links. Something to look at while you consider why your frustration is tinged with dejection.

When you’d first joined—when you were recruited, you’d had so much hope in Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier, stolen and used and come back to himself? It was your own story, if decades out of sync. Sam Wilson, bless him, even encouraged you to strike up a friendship with him. Sam, the only one who knew your whole story. Steve probably does by now too, but still. Sam was the first to know. He was the one who got out you. Got you free.

Of course, all the attempts you made to befriend Bucky fell flat. He was—and still is—polite, but unfathomably distant. Anyway, why would he bother opening up to you? He has Sam, Steve… Even Natasha, the only other person you might have felt comfortable talking to. He doesn’t like talking about his past, Steve once said. Try Natasha. But if you talked to her, she’d tell him everything.

And you don’t want to be talked about.

Not like that. Not by them.

You force yourself to your feet and step back. The hinges on the door are bolted in place—no easy removal there. Maybe a tool kit…?

The barn is dim, hazy. The sunlight streaming in from the small windows slants down in clouded beams, turning the hay-littered dirt floor into a mosaic of light and dark. And Bucky is all in shadow on his yellow throne. He’s barely moved since you last looked his way. Just sitting, and watching you.

“Did you see a toolbox anywhere?” you ask.

Bucky turns his head left, then right. “Nope.” He props his elbow on his knee and rests his chin in the palm of his hand. “Whatcha thinking?”

You prowl the perimeter, looking in every built-in shelf and drawer. “Unbolt the door hinges. Neither of us’d fit through the windows, and—wait a second.” You whirl to face him, quivering with relief. “Forget that. You can just force the door open!”

“Are you kidding?” Bucky asks. He holds up his left hand—it looks like a regular hand for the mission, but under the smokescreen is that same vibranium, that same strength. “Do you really wanna advertise that the Winter Soldier is in Italy? Right now? While we’re on an undercover mission?”

“Um, regular people break through doors all the time, Barnes.” You dash over and try to pull him to his feet.

He doesn’t budge.

“Seriously?!” You drop his heavy arm, muscles tight and hands quivering. “Are you just going to sit there? And do nothing?”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, I am. And as mission lead, that’s the call I’ve made. So sit down and chill, firecracker.”

Your fists curl into balls and you stalk away.

Firecracker.

A nickname, one you’ve despised since the first time Natasha sang it out over the comms on a mission last month. Firecracker, of all things! Like you’re no more than a party trick. An object. Not even an animal. Not even something powerful. Firecrackers are all about a lot of noise, not power. And you…

You slow as you reach the door. The wood is rough as you slide your palms across it and press your forehead across the gap. Outside, it’s still bright. Still afternoon. Inside, it feels like a nightmare.

You haven’t been locked in anywhere on a mission since… since…

For a long time.

You don’t like it. You close your eyes, breathe in—the air in the barn is stale, but if you squish your nose enough, you can get a hint of freshness from outside. The door scrapes your cheeks as you settle yourself.

It’s okay. You’ll be okay. You’ll be—

A hand on your shoulder: you spin, catch their wrist, and stop short when you realize it’s only Bucky.

“You okay?” he asks. Is that pity in his voice?

“Of course I’m fine!”

His skin is hot to the touch; he and Steve have always run warm, but it’s a strange feeling to be touching him like this. It’s not part of training, not part of a fight…

You drop his hand and sidle out from between him and the door. Your hands are still trembling. You straighten them out until your bones ache, fingers flexed and muscles straining. Even your jaw is trembling.

“You’re not,” Bucky says flatly. “What do you need?”

A hollow laugh escapes you. You lean against a pillow and slide down until you’re sitting on the floor. “To not be in here! What the hell do you think? That I’m thrilled to be locked in somewhere I’m more liable to disintegrate than not?”

“What do you…”

Bucky trails off. You don’t bother looking up at him. God knows what he thinks of you.

But it’s one thing to be in hiding. It’s another thing to be locked up. God, how can he bear it? After everything, how can he—how can you—how could you ever—

“Hey.”

Your head jerks up, your eyes wide. Bucky is kneeling a few feet away, his hands clasped between his knees. They both look like human hands; a smokescreen disguises his left. It’s a good disguise, but it looks wrong on him all the same. He—it’s not him, it’s not…

“Look at me, firecracker,” Bucky murmurs. Your eyes snap to his; your eyebrows draw low.

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss. “I’m not some toy.”

He blinks. “It’s a nickname. A term of endearment, not ridicule. Hell, Sam calls me Tin Man. Does that make me brainless?”

“Sam’s your friend!”

Bucky’s mouth drops open and his blue eyes round as saucers. “Wha—”

He stops mid-word. He cocks his head to the side. You open your mouth, but he holds up a hand, silencing whatever you’d been about to say.

His sudden silence, the way he’s listening—is someone coming?

You give Bucky a look, and he nods. You both let out a breath and stand silently. Whatever you’d been talking about, it has to wait. Right now, you’re done arguing.

Right now, you’re a team.

Tires screech outside; you look to Bucky for confirmation. He holds up three fingers.

Three vehicles.

How many people in them?

And why, why are they here? Did they recognize Bucky? He’s not immediately recognizable out of uniform, at least to the untrained eye—but are these trained eyes? Was Bucky’s face the only reason you got picked up on the side of the road? This kind of mishap has happened before…

Car doors open, footsteps crunch in gravel, and you flex your fingers and reach for that spot of warmth hidden in your chest. It reaches out, settles around your bones, through your veins until your fingernails glow. Bucky glances down, his lips quirk up, and then his eyes settle on yours. His pupils are wide with adrenaline, and he’s looking at you so intently your breath catches in your throat. Your fingertips are white-hot now, casting an eerie light from below.

He looks all the more terrible and wonderful for it.

“Ready?” he murmurs.

Your focus rams back into place. It’s just your mission lead, just Bucky. And there’s bigger fish to fry right now than the dark sky in his eyes.

“Ready.”

Bucky tilts his head towards the fused hinges on one side of the door. You press your hands against the top one, and the rusty metal begins to glow. Red drops of molten iron slide down catch on the wood, which begins to smoke. Licks of fire sprout from the jamb, and you hop back, shaking out the sparks from your fingertips.

Bucky maneuvers ahead of you and kicks the door open, wood splintering at the bottom, his left arm up. Twin shouts of surprise, two quick gunshots, and the door shudders from the impact.

“Get the other one!” Bucky snaps, pulling the bust-open door back into place as shouting begins in earnest.

You dash to the other door. Bullets pepper the door, but the wood is thick enough to contain them—for now. Something niggles at the back of your mind, but you push it away. Of course something’s wrong. But now’s the time to act, not think.

The second hinge disintegrates faster; the longer you go, the hotter you get. This is the longest you’ve ever lasted like this on a mission—usually you have guns, tools, equipment… Today you have only yourself.

Sparks fly, settling on your pants, little spots starting to burn away. The glow in your fingertips spreads down to your second knuckle, third knuckle…

Bucky pushes the two doors forward together, driving them forward like a shield wall against the god-knows-how-many people approaching. You stick close, scooping up a handful of gravel and shaping it in your palms. Gunshots ring out, striking the padlocked chain, the doors, the dirt at your feet.

“Get that damn thing on!” someone shouts.

A colossal hum groans into life, flooding your ears as you lose all sense of feeling. Bucky cries out, digs in his heels as he left arm shoots forward, but you’re a million miles away as the doors fall away from you and clatter to the ground. Dust clouds in the air as you realize that the molten rocks in your hands have dripped through your fingers, burning your shoes away. You step back, hands shaking, suddenly cold as the warmth in your chest fizzles out.

Then you run.

Gravel bites into your bare feet and makes way for tough grass. But there’s rocks here too, hidden ones, and within seconds you stumble, a sharp rock tearing a gash in the pad of your foot. Still you run, eyes burning more than your hands had been, ice settling fresh in your veins as footsteps pound behind you, harsh breathing that isn’t yours whistling in your ears.

A grunt, and someone’s hand brushes your arm. You gasp, air slicing against your screaming lungs, and pump your legs harder, harder—

“Augh!”

A hand catches your elbow, yanking your shoulder, yanking your whole body to the side as you keep going, heartbeat frantic, brain screaming, eyes barely seeing except to realize that this is the first you’ve seen again, and it’s just like you remembered, oh god, oh god; you pull your arm against the tight grip, but there’s no breaking free, the grip is too strong. You manage to get a few steps farther, dragging your assailant with you, but he digs in his heels.

Like Bucky dug in his heels.

Your eyes swivel in your head back to the barn, back to where Bucky is still fighting against some machine aimed at him, making waves in the air as it pulls at his left arm. Even from a distance, you can see he’s confused despite his bared teeth and furor. He glances your way, and the fresh strangeness in his expression takes you off-guard.

The other one who’d been chasing you grabs you, catching your other hand.

“Gotcha,” he grunts, breathless and gleeful.

You can’t take your eyes from Bucky. He’s looking at you more now. The tears pricking at your eyes make it impossible to read what he’s thinking, but you know.

The first one knees you in the gut; you fall to your knees, eyes watering afresh and nausea tickling the back of your mouth.

You know what Bucky is thinking. You’re just a firecracker. You’re useless. You’re a party trick—

You surge back to your feet, hand curling into a fist as you drive your knuckles into the first one’s neck. They choke, eyes blown wide and hand instinctively dropping from your elbow to clutch their throat. You swing your other arm, ready to drive it into their gut, but the second one catches your wrist, twisting your arm up behind you. You scream in pain—your pulled shoulder is useless now—and make to get out of their hold, but you’re caught, and someone else has come along now, and they kick you facedown into the grass. Still you persist, wriggling and kicking and trying to force yourself to your feet, to your knees, onto your back—to anything other than in the grass, blades prickling against your cheeks and mouth and nose.

God knows how, but you manage to twist over and drive your foot into someone’s crotch. They squeal and hobble back, and you grit your teeth through the pain and push yourself up before someone drives a foot into your stomach again, slamming you back onto the ground.

“Stay down!”

It’s the second man, the one who’d pulled your shoulder. He steps heavy on your chest until your bones creak, and you scream from the pressure, the pain.

“Stop, you idiot!”

You freeze. Your scream dies in your throat. The man lifts his foot away, and even through your tears you can see his scowl.

That voice—

No. No.

No.

You curl your fingers into the grass. It’s alive in your hands. Something alive, that thinks no ill of you, that wants nothing from you, something green and alive and you are not going to let them take you again.

With a cry, you push yourself up and launch yourself at the man who’d held you down. Your punch to his jaw sends him reeling. There’s nothing left of the warmth from in the barn in your chest, but you reach for it anyway, desperate, as you dash towards the man whose voice you never want to hear again.

He’s holding a gun, pointed loosely at you, his suit clean as ever and his hair as short. His eyebrows are raised, as if he’s surprised, but you don’t care, you don’t care, all you want is to break is neck and never let him speak another word as long as he—

Crack.

White-hot pain lances through your hip as he shoots, but you keep going until you’re on top of him and he’s in the dirt and your hands are around his neck and you’re squeezing and then your hands are on empty air as that idiot pulls you off.

You stumble a few feet away. There’s no warmth for you to pull at, but sparks shoot intermittently from your fingers as you snarl, blood pulsing at your hip. The idiot has a cattle prod in his hands, and he’s thrusting it at you, the buzz sending shocks through you long before it touches you.

The boss, on his knees, lurches forward towards the two of you, his eyes comically wide.

“Don’t—”

The cattle prod hits you.

White.

All you can see is white.

White fire burns in your veins, under your skin, burning searing screaming—

—

White fire flares out from where you’re caught between a bunch of the goons. Something explodes. For a moment, the whole area is flooded with white, turning the world into static. Bucky’s heart stutters—he can’t see you, where are you, what have they done to you?

A wave of heat hits him with such intensity that he shouts, his arms automatically flinging up as protection. The world goes white; something clatters nearby.

Arms? Arms?

Yes, both arms. What happened to the electromagnet? Was it the heat?

Whatever it was, he’s free. He lurches towards where the electromagnet had been, teeth gritted against the pain of the heat in the air. He can hear frightened breathing, swearing—fuck fuck fuck fuck fu—and he pounces, landing awkwardly on someone’s shoulder, but not so awkwardly that he doesn’t knock them unconscious before they can land a single blow. He stumbles off of them, ears cocked for any other noises, any other sounds, but all he hears are footsteps running haphazardly away.

They’ll get found, eventually. Right now, he can’t leave. Not without knowing what’s happened to you.

Bucky’s vision clears slowly. It’s still uncomfortably hot—sweat beads on his forehead, on his neck—but there’s a slow breeze. There’s a column of smoke to his right, where you’d run off to, and he slowly moves in that direction as he blinks away the whiteness from his eyes.

Every step forward, the heat intensifies. There’s no more grass, just dirt, with black smoke spiraling up from the bare ground. Sweat drips down the hollow of his back, catches in his eyebrows—he shakes his head, teeth bared, and forces himself forward.

What the hell happened?

Had they come for him, or you? Why would they have come for you? Whatever he thinks of you personally, your powers have never seemed that extraordinary to him. Your work at the barn, turning wrought-iron hinges into molten metal in seconds—that’s the most impressive thing he’s seen out of you to date.

Whatever had happened, the white fire and the horrible heat and the whole world gone white—that can’t have been you. But you can’t be burned, can you? Whatever it was, it can’t have hurt you.

Could it have?

He breaks into a run, squinting. A shadow on the ground catches his eye.

Bucky freezes in his tracks.

A corpse, burnt nearly to the bone. Red-hot metal pools under its pelvis—a belt buckle? A gun? No, that’s the gun there, with the extra charring on the ground. Is that what had exploded earlier? Must be.

Bucky’s mind fast-tracks past the corpse. If this is what had happened to someone else…

He steps over a charred, skeletal foot, his heart in his throat as he squints against the hot smoky air.

If that’s what happened to someone else, how could you have survived?

Bucky’s eyes water more than ever as he walks faster. “No no no,” he mutters. “That’s not…”

Another charred corpse, this one truly burnt to the bone, tendons just barely holding it together. Tears track down Bucky’s cheeks as his eyes run from the long foot up the leg, over the hipbones—

A bare foot is caught in the ribcage. A skull cradled against a bare hip, scraps of charring fabric caught in the sockets. One hand, full and alive and covered in soot, flung across your belly.

Bucky falls to his knees and crawls forward until a tear falls onto your sooty skin. Your face is turned away from him. His hands quiver as he reaches for you—for the first time, he realizes the smokescreen has died—and touches your shoulder, the back of your hand. You’re still, too still, and your skin is cold to the touch. He can hear your heartbeat, but it’s faint as a whisper and slower than molasses. There’s no sound of breathing.

“Breathe, dammit,” he mouths.

He nudges you, presses down on the hand over your belly, trying to force some movement in your lungs.

Nothing.

He takes your face in his hands; they’re shaking more than ever. He turns your head towards him, crying outright now.

“Please,” he breathes. He shifts his knees until he can bend his face inches from yours. If he has to get you to breathe by giving you breath himself, by god he’ll do it, he’ll do it a hundred times, a million, because you can’t be dead here on the ground, you can’t be, he won’t let you.

Bucky sucks in a breath, the smoky air stinging his lungs, but before he can pinch your nose shut, you shift, groan, and turn your head just enough so he can see your lips parting and a tear tracking down your cheek.

Relief washes over him like a tidal wave. For a moment, all he can do is close his eyes and press his forehead to yours. Your skin is still cold, but you’re not dead. You’re not dead. You’re alive. You’re alive, and you’re going to be okay. He’ll make damn sure of it.

One last shaky breath, and Bucky sits up on his heels. He shucks off his coat, tucks it around you, and hoists you into his arms. The skull rolls to the ground. He has to work the ribcage away from your foot with his own hand, but then he’s taking you away, back to the burning barn, away from… He glances back. It looks like a bomb has gone off. It looks…

It looks…

It looks like something he’s seen before.

Bucky’s steps slow as he stares down at the top of your head.

He’s seen this before.

The white blast. The scorched earth. The charred corpses.

He’s seen it in South Africa, in China, in Ukraine, in Venezuela. Terrorism attacks, with tenuous links aside from the identical carnage.

Monthly attacks that ended… the same month you joined the team.

It’s only habit that keeps him walking now. Force of habit, and how cold your skin is, and something past thought that has his throat clogged with horror. But he can’t drop you, no matter what conclusions his brain is coming to now.

The air is clearer here. The barn is on fire now, whether from your handiwork earlier or… or just now, he couldn’t say. But the breeze is blowing the smoke away. One of the three cars is missing—some of them must have fled, but someone will find them. Someone.

There’s an SUV with open doors. Bucky settles you in the passenger seat, careful to tuck his jacket around you properly as your head lolls. When you come to, there will be enough to explain.

There has to be an explanation.

There has to be.

Bucky pulls out his phone. Sam’s on speed-dial.

Sam’s voice, when he answers, is answer enough.

—

It’s cold.

The air is warm, but you’re cold, so cold. Like your heart is ice. You squeeze your closed eyes shut further and reach for that spot of warmth in your chest.

It’s not there.

You whimper, try again.

Nothing.

You’ve wrung yourself dry.

How—

Your faces twitches as you try to remember. All you remember is white, the static of whiteness.

Whiteness…

Your eyes pop open as you suck in a harsh, smoky breath, every muscle taut and shaking as you stare at the burning barn through—through a windshield? You’re in a car? Your heart pounds out of your chest. Did they put you in a car to take you away?

The door to your right is open; you lurch out of your seat and land on your bare knees in the gravel, one hand clutching the open door for support. You stagger to your feet. There’s no warmth in your chest and no strength in your bones, but you force yourself away, away, away—

A hand touches you, and you scream, flailing blindly until your wrist is caught.

“Hey hey hey, careful,” a soft voice says. Another hand settles on your waist, the hand on your wrist shifts until it’s holding yours, and it’s then that your eyes refocus on—

Bucky.

His eyes are wide, fixed on your face. You blink. His face is sooty, but there are clear tracks running down his cheeks. Was he—was he crying?

“You okay?” he asks.

His voice is still soft, still gentle. His eyes are still fixed on your face.

Whiteness…

“I—I don’t know,” you stammer. You put your free hand on Bucky’s arm, head swimming. The gravel bites into your feet, and you wince.

Your shoes must have burned away. Your shoes, and—

A strangled breath escapes your throat as you realize. Your shoes burned away, your shoes and your clothes. You’re wearing Bucky’s jacket, but it falls only just past your hips.

God, what did he see? You stare at him again, only more confused than before. What happened?

Whiteness.

You clap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide.

You remember it all now, as starkly as if it was happening all over again. The run, the struggle, the gunshot, the cattle prod.

The whiteness.

“Did I—did—what—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky whispers. He gently wraps an arm around you and tucks you against his chest. “You’re okay. Sam is coming.”

Your hands wind into Bucky’s shirt, tugging it tight. You stare down at your bare feet as tears roll down your cheeks. Your left foot stings; are you bleeding? You shift your foot; yes, there’s blood on the gravel where you’d been standing. Your hip is less painful than you’d’ve expected, and you flex a muscle there experimentally. Something pulls at your skin—had Bucky patched you up? He must have.

Bucky.

What does he know?

“What…” You swallow. “What happened?”

“They set you off,” Bucky says.

You let out a slow breath. So he knows. You disentangle yourself from his hold and limp to the car; Bucky helps you along, and back up into the passenger seat. “Oh.” You turn away and look at the bottom of your foot, wincing. Yes, still bleeding.

“‘Oh?’” Bucky repeats incredulously.

You turn back to him, eyebrows raised. Bucky’s hands are wide open at his sides, as though he’s struggling to keep them from curling into fists.

“Why did no one tell me about this?” His voice is low, tinged with frustration. “Why didn’t I know?”

“Only Sam knows. Knew,” you correct. “He’s the one—”

“Who got you out,” Bucky finishes. He leans against the car, boxing you in. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I have told you?” you ask, voice flat.

Bucky stares, mouth open, argument flashing in his eyes. You lean your head back and close your eyes. You’re still groggy and cold and tired, and there’s no way out with Bucky standing so close. All you can do is answer him.

“Forget why, when?” you continue weakly. “We’ve never been particularly friendly.”

“I can’t help being shy, can I?” Bucky snaps.

“Yes you can.” Your chin drops a little; your eyes are still closed. “I did my best, to try and make friends with you. I thought… it’d be good for me. Have someone who knows what I went through.”

“I didn’t know,” he says. He’s not snapping now. He’s quiet, almost plaintive. “I wish I had. I wish Sam had told me. I wish…” He trails off, sighs.

You peek open an eye. Bucky leans on his arm against the open car door jamb, eyes closed, face downcast. He looks… he looks like he’s more weighted down than you are.

A little warmth flares in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s real or just a hope.

You reach out and put a hand on his face. His skin is warm to the touch, as it always is. Bucky’s eyes pop open and he looks at you, his lips parted and his eyes wide and blue.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “And I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair not to tell you. Not… not when we were supposed to have each other’s backs.”

“I’ve got your back no matter what,” Bucky declares, and the warmth in your chest coils and warms you straight down to your fingertips.

There aren’t words for what you’re feeling. All you can do is crane your neck and press a kiss to his sooty cheek and wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek again.

Bucky shudders in your hold, and it’s all you can do not to cry as he wraps an arm gently around you.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “And I’m not letting go.”

[taiblogcomics]

Small Town, Big Jerks

Hey there, never-ending movie franchises. We're gonna be two-thirds through The Ravagers after we're done this issue (the zero issue doesn't count). We're all looking forward to finishing this one, yeah? At the very least, I'm looking forward to having something to actually write about in the preamble again someday~

Here's the cover:

Hey, are you tired of these assholes yet? Too bad, because here's an issue all about these assholes. I also love that they're kind of stuck just calling her "Rose" now. You know what here supranym was before the New 52? Ravager. But we decided to apply that to a team rather than a single person, and now it's stupid. She also looks odd without the eyepatch. I just realised how used I am to her having one looking at this cover. Other than that, though, this cover's fairly competent, if bland~

So we open in a small Colorado town, where a girl named Candice is attempting to sneak into a house. A fellow dressed in sherrif's garb catches her and orders her inside. Turns out, this is her father and this is her house. So he just casually wears his uniform around the house? Especially late at night, since it's implied Candice is sneaking back in from being at a raging party. While he's chewing out both his daughter for sneaking out and his son for not keeping his sister in line, there's a big explosion outside. Like an idiot, Sherrif Dad goes to investigate.

Downtown, Warblade and Rose Wilson have turned up to fight another of their former charges, a glowing guy named Adam. Adam, for his part, isn't interested in being one of Harvest's lapdogs again. Not even when his powers start going critical. Adam implodes, causing no damage to the town but unfortunately expending his super-powered molecules throughout the population, even into Candice and Kris from earlier. Warblade wants to blow the whole thing off and go get pie, and honestly, I would be more interested in reading that story.

Rose, however, has decided to do the responsible thing, despite being a villain. She explains to Sherrif Dad that if he doesn't do what she says, everyone in this town will explode. And the detonations will continue to infect more people, just like Adam did. While Rose talks to him, Warblade goes off to close the one road out of town with a landslide.

He's just getting back when one of the bystanders suddenly starts to glow and scream in pain. Rose asks Warblade for help without killing the guy, and Warblade points out this is a bit like asking for swimming lessons without getting wet. Nonetheless, Warblade does at least comply and try to talk the guy into remaining calm. It's not enough, and the guy succumbs to his pain and detonates.

People are getting agitated now, and who can blame them. Warblade heads out to the other one way out of town, because of course there's a secret "old switchback". And by even further coincidence, he finds Sherrif Dad's kids trying to run away using the same exit. Another person detonates down the street, and Rose and Warblade go in to pull the survivors from the wreckage. Warblade is grousing the whole time about having to play hero, and I gotta admit, as much of an asshole he is, this is actually doing a lot to endear me to his character.

What quickly doesn't endear me to him is learning that his whole costume is actually a costume. That big fanged monster smile flips up like Iron Man's helmet and reveals a perfectly normal human face under it. I honestly thought he was an all-metal monster, that's way cooler. But anyway, he's pissy that Rose isn't letting him just kill the whole town and move on. Rose explains that killing a whole town will paint a target on their backs and get the notice of someone like the Justice League. This will, in turn, get traced back to Harvest, who does not need the complications. She's so thoughtful to include her boss in her concerns.

They very quickly become more personal concerns, however. After Sherrif Dad and Warblade spend a few minutes getting in a pissing contest (which lowers my opinion of him back down again; why are you engaging with an ordinary sherrif man like you're both in high school?), Rose suddenly begins to flare up with glowing and pain herself.

This is in spite of being told they were innoculated against it due to being part of Harvest's crew. What a surprise that you can't take Harvest's word. And just to complicate things for them, suddenly Caitlin Fairchild and the rest of our heroes show up. On the very last page of the comic they supposedly star in.

Honestly, this issue could be worse. I mean, hey, technically it still stars “The Ravagers”. In fact, arguably, more than any previous issue, since our protagonists don’t use the name for their team group. It focuses a lot on Warblade and Rose, trying to make the pair of them less of unrepentant assholes. Which is good, since the New 52 turned both these characters into villains anyway. And if they were both jerks the whole time like they are in every previous issue, this would be a lot more of a slog.

I guess it’s all setup for next time, where we’ll find out why the hell the heroes are here, and what significance Candice and Kris have to the plot that justifies them opening the comic and continuing to have several pages afterward dedicated to them~

[wildestheart4ever]

More Jamie Rogers content, cause I was reminiscing the existence of my little steggy goober. So I wanted to explore what his relationships with the Avengers are like: 

Steve and Peggy Rogers: Both Steve and Peggy struggle with the notions of parenthood [Steve never met his father, and Peggy had a complicated relationship with her mother], and both fear failing their little pride and joy in any way. Especially with their very time consuming careers. 

Steve is seemingly the more indulgent parent, he likes to spoil his son to a degree, give Jamie everything he never had the chance to get during his own childhood. Jamie and Steve share a love for baseball, and Steve is painstakingly teaching the boy the sport.....he makes it a point to tell others not to judge him when he does it in the suit [considering they all saw the ball he took to his man bits, they refrain from commenting]. 

Though both are protective, Peggy has been quietly dubbed “Momma bear”, given her penchant for using random blunt objects to club threats in the face when they present themselves as a threat to her child [there’s a tally chart, it’d be funny how many marks she has if it wasn’t so disconcerting].  

Dodger: Steve got Jamie a dog the third year after the snap, felt like his son might need a companion and would keep him busy while Steve was occupied with work [Especially during the times Nat would be occupied with the remaining Avengers]. They pass most of that time playing ball 

Sam Wilson: Now when Jamie first meets Sam, he’s hanging off Steve’s back [in one of those carriers] and just watching and waving back at the guy trying to keep with his dad. Of course he likes him instantly, cause the dude is nice and funny and put a big smile on Steve’s face [Not many others besides his mum can do that], and kept him company while Steve was hospitalized before Peggy got back.

Probably first on the list of people he’d be comfortable with being left alone with. Besides aunt Nat that is.

Admittedly, Sam’s first thought at meeting Jamie was “So this is the result of a child raised by a greatest generation couple in the 21st century”. He’s spent his free time with the kid with Steve, teaching Jamie how to play baseball for one [Though the following severe sympathy pain once a ball hit Steve’s man bits had Sam a little more cautious when playing with a boy with super strength], he looks at the boy with fondness and amusement [and exasperation, once finding out Natasha had successfully taught the boy how to play poker].

He got kinda teary eyed upon their return to find a quiet colt legged preteen with a resting bitch face to outmatch Barnes’ crying his eyes out into his mother’s shoulder, instead of an cheerful open smiled child. In his defense, everyone’s hearts were collectively broken.

Natasha Romanov: She wasn’t much considered “Aunt Nat” before the events of DC [she, Steve and Peggy seemed more on the friendly co-workers status before that]. Jamie thinks she’s cool tho, and she gives him sweets no matter how many times it exasperates his parents. At eleven, she’s pretty much the only other permanent fixture in his life, and one he is not intent on losing. 

Now given Natasha’s experience with Clint’s kids, she’s not all that clueless and awkward when interacting with Jamie. She amused herself with buying him Captain America onesies during his infancy, and sometimes watches him when both Peggy and Steve are occupied [I’m guessing SHIELD sanctioned nannies are only offered when missions are concerned].  

Nat lives on and continues being the awesome aunt in his life, and that’s that.

Bucky Barnes: When Jamie was first brought in to meet his elusive namesake, the two did not quite know what to make of each other, Jamie thought the man looked very tired and sad. He still remembers Bucky from their brief interaction following Hydra’s exposure, and he’s joyed to find the man a bit more talkative than the first time around.

Bucky was still baffled by the notion of Steve having kids at all [The fact Peggy survived along side Steve is still another thing he’s trying to wrap his mind around, what’s reckless self sacrificial x2?]. He still gets chills at the thought of their first encounter, and doesn’t like delving into what exactly he was thinking when he saw the boy the first time around. He refuses to take bait to Sam’s teasing on the fact lil Jamie thought he was a cursed prince waiting for true love’s kiss.

Given time - and a lot of it spent in each other’s company when the others are out on secret missions -, Jamie and Bucky taken a shine on the other. Bucky and Sam may have been a bit competitive on who’s Jamie’s favorite [It’s Nat]

Thor: Now Jamie didn’t get much of an opportunity to get to know Thor, so despite his outgoing and precocious nature, the boy is a little timid when it comes to the large alien. 

Thor finds the boy endearing and [jokingly] swears loyalty to him upon the day Jamie becomes a warrior himself and looks forward to fighting by his side. Nothing like reminding the mortals around you of their short lifespan, eh? 

Bruce Banner: Another fellow Jamie hardly interacts with. He finds the man twitchy and shy, and goes about interacting with him like he were interacting with smth fragile. By the time of the five year skip and he’s a little more sure of his interactions with the man, he a bit weirded out by the man’s.....new development [He finds himself staring quite a lot, despite his father’s scolding]

Bruce - upon being introduced the a fragile two year old - takes to interacting with Jamie with as much care as the boy bestows upon him. He finds him less stressing and loud than one would expect of a toddler, and sometimes wants to toe the line where Jamie is persistently keeping himself in quiet mode, where he can hopefully find a friendly middle ground. 

Tony Stark: Jamie isn’t that big of a fan of Tony, the man mostly keeps to his own thing so it’s not like he sees much of him to begin with. Whenever he is in the same room with Stark, the man either pretends he’s not there...or just really focused in his attempts in aggravating Steve

After the snap, it’s plain to say the boy is not fond of Stark. He lost nearly everyone that ever mattered to him, including his mother, and Stark is just raving on taking everything out on his dad for no reason. The fact the man did not want to help five years later didn’t endear him to Jamie much either, and at eleven, Jamie is a broody preteen keen on holding a grudge [Imagine being five and going through that, watching this guy basically blame the whole shitfest on Steve. Yeaaah, that boy was pretty loud in his anger] 

Now Tony is hardly an expert in handling children [no Tony, you do not call a boy who expresses missing his absent father a pussy], so he’d be pretty awkward once the Rogers family moves into the tower after the events in DC. Finds himself twitchy at all the child-friendly stuff around the common area [sometimes, toys are accidently left behind for one to slip on], and the most interaction he gets with Jamie is long awkward mutual staring 

Clint Barton: Like Thor, he doesn’t have much interaction with this guy. But when he is around, Jamie finds him both goofy and cool, cool especially when Barton saves his little tush from rogue AIs making their first appearance [Just think, you spend a boring grown-up party playing with your toys and emptying the snack trays, fall asleep on a couch, only to wake up to disaster]. At eleven, he feels pity at the fate of the man’s family, offering an awkwardly friendly fist-bump upon seeing him, and silently taking the embarrassing hair ruffling he gets in return.

Jamie is everything Clint expected of a child born from Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter, the boy is quiet, mindfull, and yet incredibly outgoing and stubborn [and temperamental, both parents are stubborn to admitting who he got it from], something he quietly finds amusing.  

[365days365movies]

April 10, 2021: The Graduate (1967) (Recap: Part One)

Some Like it Hot got Oscar-stiffed. So did this film!

This film got seven nominations at the 1968 Oscars, and took home Best Director and NOTHING else. It was nominated for Best Picture, Actor, Actress, Supporting Actress, Adapted Screenplay, and Cinematography, and got NONE of them. Hot damn! That surprises me, because this film is RIDICULOUSLY iconic.

I mean, hell, The Simpsons has homaged it at least twice, which I know from the above GIF and the following GIF. And in that one, the teacher in the background is Dustin Hoffman, HOMAGING HIMSELF

There’s been a stage adaptation, AFI called it the 17th best movie of all time in 2007, while also putting it on 5 other lists, and but it on the Movie Quotes list TWICE! Leonard Maltin’s seen it before he dies, the Library of Congress has it in their collection, and it launched Dustin Hoffman’s career into the goddamn atmosphere!  And that’s not even mentioning the one thing I’m looking forward to the most:

The music.

Look, I’m not exactly a big music nerd, by ANY means. I’ve heard songs, but can rarely identify the band or person playing them. I was in an acapella group, a steel band, and chamber orchestra, so I’m no foreigner to music. I’m just...not a big music nerd. But I DO know Simon and Garfunkel, and the more I hear of them, the more I like them.

Scarborough Fair/Canticle, Bridge Over Troubled Water, Mrs. Robinson, Cecilia, I Am a Rock, ALL of them are good classic folk rock songs that are easy to remember. AND I KNOW IT’S LAME TO LIKE FOLK ROCK I DO NOT CARE SUE ME IF YOU MUST. Oh, and I didn’t even mention the most famous of their songs, whose fame was aided by this film’s success. But, uh...I’ll hold onto it for now.

In fact, for now, let’s just jump into the film in and of itself! The Graduate is a classic, and it’s been on my list for a while. It’s more of a romantic comedy, but it’s primarily a comedy (from my understanding), so it’s fitting that I throw it in here. Let’s go!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We start on a plane as it lands, joining Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman), as he leaves the plane and walks through the airport. We also start right away with a BANGER, and the most iconic song on this film’s soundtrack: The Sound of Silence.

Classic. CLASSIC! One of their best! Not my favorite, but one of their best for sure! But OK, after that, we get to know Benjamin a bit more. He’s a recent college graduate and in a state of melancholy, not quite knowing what to do or how to feel about his new situation. This is to the confusion of his father, Mr. Braddock (William Daniels) and his mother, Mrs. Braddock (Elizabeth Wilson).

Urged to attend the party in his honor, he reluctantly goes downstairs, where he’s absolutely accosted (nearly assaulted) by all of his parents’ friends. One of these friends, Mr. Maguire (Walter Brooke), somewhat awkwardly pulls him to the side, and brings him out side. He wants to say one word to him. Just one word.

After that...interaction, Ben takes the opportunity to escape, as all of his accomplishments are being read out loud to the throngs. And I have to say, you can feel just how overwhelming all of this is for him. It’s a palpable anxiety. He goes back to his room to get away from everybody and just look at his fish tank. Just a celebration of the introvert’s experience right here, and I can dig it.

But this private reverie is interrupted by the barging in of one Mrs. Robinson (Katharine Ross), who pretends to have mistaken his room for the bathroom, but sits down and smokes anyway, despite his protests. She asks what making him upset, and notes that’s it’s more of a general feeling than a specific one. She understands and readies herself to leave, but not before asking him to give her a ride home. He reluctantly accepts, and takes her home. She invites him in through some subtle manipulation and...well, you know where this is headed.

An absolutely classic line and classic exchange, and I’m kind of surprised that it happens this soon into the movie, to be honest! She denies the accusation...kind of, and he asks her apology. But she brushes it off, and asks if he’d like to see the portrait of her daughter Elaine, which he’s quite enthusiastic about. But while there, in her room, things continue to get awkward as she basically undresses in front of him.

Mrs. Robinson continues to deny that she’s trying to seduce him, but it’s all basically gaslighting to get him to admit that he wants to be seduced. Damn, Mrs. Robinson, what the fuck? And it’s actually made WAY FUCKING WORSE when she tricks him into getting into a sealed room, where she traps him and tells him that she’s interested in sleeping with him, whenever he wants to. Ben is OBVIOUSLY frazzled as fuck, especially considering the basically near-rape situation he’s currently in.

Thankfully (maybe), the sound of Mr. Robinson’s car pulling up allows enough distraction (and adrenaline rush) for Ben to GET THE FUCK OUT of there, and he runs into Mr. Robinson (Murray Hamilton) in the process. Noticing how frazzled he seems to be, Mr. Robinson tells Ben to relax in his youth, and having a few flings with the ladies while he can. He brushes off all of this, and gets out as soon as he can.

Soon after, summer begins, and not really in Ben’s favor. He’s used again as a prop for his parents and their friends, as his father got him a SCUBA suit that he demonstrates in their pool, despite his protests and wish to be heard. And people...people don’t listen to Ben, huh? I genuinely feel bad for the kid, because it really does seem like nobody attempts to listen to what he wants for how he feels, his parents included. But he seems to get the solitude he’s been seeking as he sits beneath the pool. But that’s overlaid with the realization that Ben actually WAS seduced by Mrs. Robinson, and he gives her a call to meet soon afterwards.

They meet at the Taft Hotel, where Ben is his typical nervous and awkward self, and goes to get a room for the two of them. And it’s now that I should mention that this dude is EXTREMELY twitchy, like goddamn. I know they were saying that he’s “the kind of guy who was to fight them off”, but I DO NOT see it, not gonna lie. 

After a bit more awkwardness, they meet in a room at the hotel, where the clearly still quite nervous Ben struggles with the whole affair (pun intended), including the fact that she is one of his parent’s friends, and that this is a fast start to their relationship. But, Mrs. Robinson being Mrs. Robinson, she once again manipulates him into just getting on with it...and it works.

Once again, The Sound of Silence plays, as summer passes on and he lazes about the pool during the days, then goes to sleep with Mrs. Robinson in the nights. But he doesn’t seem to enjoy any of it, as the two halves of his life are so separate, and he separates them in his mind. And that’s done by some very clever camera work and production design, honestly.

This transitions into a version of the folk rock duo that I hadn’t heard before: April Come She Will, as the affair continues forth. This is interrupted by the frustrations of Ben’s father, who asks what he’s going to do after his collegiate career, tired of his lazing about and doing nothing for...a few weeks. Really? JESUS, DAD, LET ME RELAX!

His time with Mrs. Robinson is also a bit awkward, as he’s craving some sort of relationship outside of specifically sex, and she’s entirely uninterested in that kind of relationship with him. As he tries to start any form of conversation, she reluctantly enters one, which reveals some parts of her relationship with her husband. Specifically, they don’t really love each other, and were forced to marry because she became pregnant with Elaine. It also reveals that Mrs. Robinson is a somewhat broken woman, emotionally.

It’s also revealed during this conversation that Mrs. Robinson DOES FUCKING NOT want him to take Elaine out on a date, but won’t explain her reasons for that. After prying, she says that she doesn’t believe he’s good enough for her (although I don’t quite believe that, personally). This makes him upset, and leads to an argument that almost causes him to leave. But still, she forbids him to go out with Elaine.

That’s made even MORE complicated by the fact that Benjamin’s parents force him to ask her out on a date, and he does so reluctantly, which makes Mrs. Robinson VERY upset. And I gotta say...I don’t think I like anybody in this movie. Like...at all. I only kind of like Ben, although I really only feel bad for him because he has no agency in his life. Not a big fan of Mrs. Robinson, who’s upset by a situation she’s entirely responsible for, and is cheating on her husband. Ben’s parents are annoying, and Mr. Robinson...I dunno, sort of puts off these sleazy vibes, but that’s just a feeling I’m getting.

Elaine seems nice, though, as the two go on a date together. But in order to please Mrs. Robinson, Ben does his absolute damndest to sabotage the date. Starts off with reckless driving, then transitions into ignoring her almost entirely, and then takes her out to a strip club for the date. Which is all understandably extremely upsetting; again, it’s not exactly endearing me to Ben, and it’s not working on Elaine either, who’s convinced that Ben is doing this to punish her specifically, and I don’t fucking blame her!

She runs off crying, and he goes after her, realizing that he’s been a dick and that he really doesn’t want to be. They go get food at the A&W, which is making me both hungry AND nostalgic now...fuck, I really want some food from A&W. But with that, they actually have a good time when he opens up to her about how he’s felt since college ended, and she does something nobody else has: she listens to him.

OK, I’mma get some food, but this is a good place to pause for now! See you later for Part Two!