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221bsunsettowers · 3 years

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Buck/Eddie: Now I’m Pacing Back and Forth, Wishing You Were at My Door (Fake Dating/Undercover AU)

Fandom: 9-1-1

Pairing: Buck/Eddie

Summary:

Fake Dating/Undercover AU requested by anonymous

No matter what he does, no message from Buck appears.

And Eddie understands he's spent less than a few hours with this man, that people wouldn't understand why there's this twisting aching tug inside his gut at the knowledge that Buck could be hurt, could even be dead, right now. That he might never get to have another moment with this beautiful, kind hearted, funny, complex man who kisses like he's got Eddie's heart in his hands and reads to Christopher like there's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.

For Tropetember 2021, can be read on Ao3 here

CW: a few uses of the f word, a very brief mention of sex trafficking with absolutely no details (one line in the newspaper Eddie reads)

"Look, I'm really sorry, but please go along with this, and you can absolutely tell me off later."

In that split second, Eddie realizes that the gorgeous guy at the bar, the one he hasn't been able to tear his gaze away from since he walked in two minutes ago, has seemingly magically appeared in front of him.

And he's kissing him.

Really kissing him. And he's really fucking good at it.

"Hey, babe," the guy says with a smile, pulling back just enough to run his hands through Eddie's hair (and isn't Eddie thrilled he was too tired from work to style his hair, making it so much easier for whoever the hell this is to really get his long surprisingly gentle fingers right up in there).

"Hey," Eddie manages to breathe out, pretty sure he's stuck in a state of total shock and awe here, and the mystery man chuckles, and Eddie's pretty sure that he spots a blush spreading right up to a birthmark that's just the perfect size to press his lips against-

Eddie makes a tight fist, hoping against hope that the sharp jolt of his fingernails digging right into his palm will snap him back to himself, and out of whatever world he's fallen into where all he can think about is dotting tender kisses across a stranger's beautiful face.

Mystery man backs up, looks sad suddenly, and that definitely doesn't help Eddie's desires to just kiss it and make it all better. "It would be great if you wouldn't hit me," the guy says softly, hands loose and open, "though I would get it if you did." And no, Eddie thinks, no absolutely not, he would never. He's always known that's not a good path to ever let himself go down, using his fists to solve something, but he can't ever imagine mixing violence with the man in front of him.

"I wouldn't," Eddie assures him, "never. I promise." The man looks relieved, then a smile spreads across his face, and he reaches a hand out, gently opens Eddie's closed fist and soothes the stinging nail marks with soft strokes from the tips of his fingers. Eddie feels callouses, and a small scar, but before he can process that information further, the man's other hand is latching onto Eddie's belt loop and tugging him in close again.

"There's two guys, both tall, one has black hair, one brown," the guy murmurs into Eddie's neck, his arms tight around Eddie's back, and Eddie can't help but lean into the touch, letting his own arms drape around this mystery man's waist. He can't honestly remember the last time someone held him quite like this, so even if it's a (gorgeous) stranger (with a tender touch) Eddie's going to let himself have this. "Brown haired guy has a big jagged scar running up his cheek, black hair's wearing a leather jacket with a red lightening bolt on both sleeves. Where are they in the bar?"

Turning his head slightly, Eddie spots the two men who fit the descriptions, over in the back by the pool table. He tells the mystery man as much, and feels a whoosh of relieved air against his neck before the man is pulling back again. "Pretty sure you just saved my life there," the man says, and behind his cocky grin Eddie swears he can see his lower lip trembling. "Thank you."

And with that, just as quickly as he appears, the man is gone. Eddie throws down a twenty and runs to the door, but there's no one there.

Eddie doesn't tell anyone about what happened. Definitely not his son, Christopher, when he gets home from spending time with his Abuela. And not any of his co workers at the store, definitely not. He can already hear Chimney saying he's been spending too much time in their thriller section (only Hen knows it's actually romance books Eddie sneaks behind the counter, and she promised not to tell anyone). And he especially doesn't want to admit just how much he's been thinking about his mystery man since that night.

So when said mystery man comes flying through the door of Eddie's bookstore and small cafe right before closing on Monday, Eddie is the only one who is both surprised and also secretly thrilled.

"Oh, no way!" the man calls out excitedly, grinning despite the blood dripping from the large slash on his left palm. "It's you!" (Okay, so the blood does definitely put a damper on things, Eddie thinks, though apparently not for the mystery man, who seems completely unfazed.)

Hurrying behind the counter in the cafe, Eddie grabs a towel and their first aid kit, guiding the man to the nearest overstuffed armchair.

"You going to introduce us, Eddie?" Hen asks, and Eddie knows he's in for it when he sees the gleeful looks she and Chimney are giving each other.

"I'm Evan, but everyone calls me Buck," the man says with a smile and a wave, Eddie tugging his injured hand back down with an exasperated huff of air. He's barely had a chance to even start cleaning out the wound when two more men burst in through the front door.

Eddie immediately recognizes them as the two men from the bar, jagged scar and red lightening bolt. Their body language screams "extras from a mob movie" at Eddie, and he moves in front of Buck before he even has time to think things through. "What the hell are you doing here?" Lightening Bolt growls in Buck's direction, and again, Eddie's only excuse is that the mystery man now known as Buck has overridden his common sense, because Eddie crosses his arms across his chest, and-

"He's visiting me, who the fuck are you?" Eddie spits back. Hen and Chimney are wide eyed, and Eddie can feel Buck tensing up at his back, ready to spring up at a moment's notice.

"We're pals of his, now who the fuck are you?" Lightening Bolt (apparently the better spoken of the two) growls, again, and Eddie is really getting fed up with this guy. Eddie takes a second, scrolls back through his memories in the bar (he barely has to, considering how many times he's replayed that kiss in his head), adds in some wishful thinking, and decides to go for broke here.

"I'm his boyfriend," Eddie asserts, and he can only hope that the three people behind him don't give the game away. Eddie takes a step forward, hoping to keep the attention on him and not whatever facial expressions he can only imagine Hen and Chim are unable to stifle (and he's afraid to know what look is on Buck's face). "This is my store, and I don't like your attitudes right now. I don't like anyone bothering my boyfriend."

"Didn't know Sam had a boyfriend," Jagged Scar says, and Eddie can see why he's kept quiet, his growl is far less impressive. Sam is certainly not the name Buck just gave him, but Eddie's already this far in, he might as well just keep going.

"Well he does, and I'd really like to spend some time with him, so you can show yourselves out," Eddie says calmly, and feels Buck put his (non-injured) hand on Eddie's waist, leaning into his side.

"Thanks, babe," Buck murmurs, nuzzling his face into Eddie's neck, laying a soft kiss behind Eddie's ear, and Eddie desperately wars against every single strand of his genetic code and emotional state to keep his face from turning beet red.

Jagged Scar looks at Lightening Bolt to find out their next move, clearly waiting for his cue. Lightening Bolt stares at Buck and Eddie for another minute, almost daring them to break and spill the beans, but when they simply stare back, Lightening Bolt heads for the door, Jagged Scar right on his heels.

"Make sure you tell your boyfriend you're busy tomorrow, Sam," Lightening Bolt calls back over his shoulder, before slamming the door closed. The second they are out of sight, Eddie feels the breath whoosh out of him, sitting down hard in the nearest chair and burying his face in his hands.

"Man, you were amazing!" Buck exclaims, grabbing Eddie by the shoulders and shaking him. "You are badass under pressure."

"Hen, Chim, you guys can leave early today," Eddie calls out from behind his hands, his tone leaving no room for argument. Chim utters a protest anyway, clearly wanting more details, but Eddie can only assume Hen has dragged him out because he can hear the door close and then silence.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks softly, his voice far more hesitant than Eddie has heard it.

"Have I gotten myself into something dangerous?" Eddie asks quietly, voice less muffled as he pulls his hands away from his face, but still stares down at the ground. He doesn't trust himself to meet Buck's eyes and thus completely override his preservation skills.

"These guys are simple," Buck promises, the sincerity in his voice drawing Eddie's gaze up again, despite his best efforts. "They wouldn't use anyone to get to me. They'd just get me."

"Okay," Eddie nods, then shakes his head vehemently. "No, wait, not okay. Are you in danger?"

"Can I sit?" Buck asks tentatively, and Eddie nods again, standing up and drawing a chair over. As soon as Buck sits down, Eddie takes hold of his injured hand again, opening a clean wipe and gently returning to cleaning out the wound.

"I can't really tell you anything, I'm really sorry." Buck's voice is so full of regret and loneliness it takes everything Eddie has in him not to leap across the table and take Buck into his arms. "What I can say is I promise you I'm not a criminal, I would never put you in any danger, and I'm doing the best I can to stay safe. It would have been a lot easier if I could have avoided those guys before they saw me, like you helped me do in the bar, but someone must have told them where to find me."

"I believe you," Eddie says simply, and the smile that springs up across Buck's face almost blinds Eddie, and he can't help smiling back. "Now is your name Buck or Sam? I have to know what to call my fake boyfriend."

"My first name's actually Evan," Buck answers almost sheepishly with a small shrug of his shoulders.. "But my last name is Buckley, so all my friends call me Buck. Sam, it's a...a temporary name." Trailing off, Buck peers down at the floor, like he's taking notes on the soft blue carpeting.

"Buck it is then," Eddie agrees with a soft smile, and Buck looks up again, the smile back on his face as well, and Eddie's heart can't take the fact that he's the one who made Buck feel happy again. So instead he focuses on carefully bandaging Buck's hand

"I heard your friends call you Eddie?" Buck asks shyly, looking up at Eddie through his long lashes, and yep, that's definitely doing it for Eddie too.

"They did," Eddie replies, lip between his bottom teeth as he examines his work before relunctantly releasing Buck's hand. Glancing back up, he meets Buck's gaze and smiles, nodding his head once. "And you can too."

"We're friends, huh?" Buck asks, and Eddie's pretty confident that is literal sunshine streaming out of Buck's smile.

"I won't be a fake boyfriend for just anyone, you know," Eddie banters back, cheeks tinging red in the warmth of Buck's soft grin.

"I hope not." Buck reaches his uninjured hand out and wraps his fingers lightly around Eddie's wrist. Eddie knows Buck must be able to feel how his pulse is racing, but he can feel that Buck's pulse isn't exactly steady either.

Then the shop door opens, and Christopher is there, grinning from ear to ear. Abuela leans in to give both Christopher and Eddie hugs and kisses goodbye, and to give Buck a very interested stare, and then she is back in her car and Christopher is in Eddie's arms, giving his own very interested stare at Buck.

"I'm Christopher," he says matter-of-factly, eyes twinkling mischeviously. "Did you know that Pluto is half as wide as the whole United States?"

"I'm Buck," Buck replies with a very similar mischevious twinkle to his own eyes. "Did you know black holes can burp up stars?"

"Cool!" Christopher is absolutely delighted, grabbing Buck's uninjured hand and tugging him towards the Astronomy section of the bookstore. Before Eddie knows it, Chris is on Buck's lap, Buck reading him a new book about the solar system, and Eddie is helpless to do anything but watch them fondly.

A shrill beep suddenly comes from Buck's left pocket, and he pulls out a phone, making a very disgruntled face as he stares at the screen. "I'm sorry, buddy," Buck tells Christopher softly, as he helps Christopher up before standing up himself. "I have to go."

"No, Bucky, stay!" Christopher pleads, turning his patented puppy dog eyes on an unsuspecting Buck, and from what Eddie can see it looks like Buck is two for two in winning the Diaz boys over simply by existing.

"I wish I could, Chris, but I'll come back as soon as I can," Buck promises, and Eddie is scrawling on a post it note before Buck can suddenly disappear again.

"Let me know you're safe, okay?" Eddie asks softly, holding the note with his phone number out to Buck. "Whatever is going on tomorrow that you can't tell me about, just please let me know you're okay, even if it's just a quick text."

"Yeah?" Buck whispers, gaze darting between the number and Eddie's face like he can't stop looking at either.

"Yeah, Buck." Eddie reaches over, gently squeezes the back of Buck's neck, and for just a second, Buck leans in, their foreheads lightly touching. Then Buck steps back, bending down to return Chris' hug, waving as he steps out the door.

Tomorrow comes, and Eddie can't help checking his phone. And checking it. And checking it again. No message from Buck.

Eddie makes sure the battery is still charged, the volume is turned all the way up, the ringtone is set to the most blaring noise he can find, the wifi and the data are both in working order.

Nothing.

No matter what he does, no message from Buck appears.

Christopher's been asking all day when they can see Buck again, and Eddie doesn't even know if they ever will be able to see Buck again. He tells Christopher he's not sure, and his son looks as heartbroken as Eddie feels, and after a night of no sleep and gutwrenching nightmares, Eddie grabs the first newspaper he sees Thursday morning and pours through it.

Overnight, there's been more violence than Eddie can even try to fathom, and so it's not until the third page that he finds what he's looking for. Evan Buckley, detective with the LAPD, successfully disbanded a sex trafficking ring that had been operating out of a small local pier. The officer will be awarded a medal for his valor. The article doesn't say which station Buck works out of, so Eddie drops Chris off at school, giving his son his solemn vow that he will get Buck to visit the second he finds him. He calls Hen and Chim, tells them he won't be in until later.

It's the fifth station Eddie tries.

He's got a routine down by now, hurrying into the station and heading towards the first person he sees.

"Hi, excuse me, does Evan Buckley work here?" Eddie asks, heart dropping as the woman shrugs, but then an older man walks up behind her and approaches Eddie.

"Captain Bobby Nash," the man says, extending a hand which Eddie shakes, most likely far too enthusiastically, but Eddie's long past caring about what anyone who isn't Buck thinks about him. "Can I ask why you're looking for this officer?"

"He...we..." Eddie takes a deep breath, tries to steady himself. "This might sound crazy, but we met for like two minutes, then we met again at my bookstore, and I bandaged his hand, and he made my son laugh, and I really like him, and I promised Chris I wouldn't come back without him, so here I am." He shrugs at the end of his speech, because honestly, what else can he do at this point?

"You must be Eddie," the captain says with a smile, and then Eddie's being led past the entryway and through a sea of desks and ringing phones, until there he is.

Buck.

Looking exhausted, a bandage on his forehead, another just showing over the top of his Henley, but there, alive, breathing, and about a foot away.

"Buck!" Eddie calls out, voice loud and relieved grin huge, and he will admit to no one but Buck himself that he is actually blinking back tears as he closes the gap. Buck is just rising to his feet, eyes widened in surprise, mouth curling into a matching grin when Eddie reaches him and pulls him in by the back of his shirt, clutching tightly to the stretched taut fabric as he wraps the younger man in his arms.

He feels Buck melt into his arms, moves one hand to cup the back of Buck's neck, presses a kiss to Buck's temple when the typically taller man curls his face into the crook of Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie can't begin to imagine how heavy this job must feel sometimes, what it must have taken out of Buck to pretend he was the same as men who would sell people to the highest bidders. So he takes on whatever weight Buck is able to let slide off his shoulders.

"Fuck, I was so worried," Eddie breathes out, "When we didn't hear from you, I thought...god, Buck, are you okay?" Pulling back slightly, Eddie turns his medic eyes on Buck, gaze sweeping over the banadages, a gentle touch ghosting across Buck's forehead as he lightly taps Buck's chin up, checking for any visible concussion symptoms.

"Cap made me get checked at the hospital, promise," Buck says, blushing under Eddie's scrutinity. "I'm sorry I didn't let you know, I just..." Dropping his head, Buck mumbles, "Wasn't sure if you meant it."

"If I meant it when I said I wanted to know you were safe?" Eddie asks, first utter disbelief and then complete warmth tinging his tone. Buck nods, eyes still on the ground, and Eddie swoops right back in, tucking Buck back into his arms. "Of course I did. Every word. Chris won't let me back into the house unless I've got you with me."

"Really?" Buck tilts his head up, arms now around Eddie's waist, and Eddie nods and smiles, and Buck smiles back.

"You make quite the impression," Eddie teases gently, and then lets his hands slide up to cup Buck's face, and leans in. Buck meets him halfway, their lips press together, soft, tender, once, then twice, then again before Buck lets out a pleased little sigh and Eddie grins fondly, resting their foreheads together.

"Captain Nash, can I borrow Detective Buckley?" Eddie asks, eyes twinkling, and he hears the captain laugh, feels the clap of a hand on his shoulder.

"Please," Captain Nash responds kindly, "I've been trying to get him to leave, but he just keeps insisting he has more work to do."

"I could take a break," Buck offers up shyly, and Eddie nods enthusiastically, bringing another laugh out of the captain.

"Finally use up some of that time off, that's an order!" Captain Nash calls after them, as Buck practically hop skips his way out the door, grin broad as he looks down at his and Eddie's intertwined fingers.

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zmediaoutlet · 3 years

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For a while, after everything with Jack, it’s quiet. Sam gets up at the same time every morning out of habit but there’s no real need. It feels like there’s something—untethered, in him. A flying line that used to be caught on concrete, and now that the anchor’s gone he doesn’t know what to lash it to. Dean seems to be doing better but Sam knows it’s the same for him. They stay apart a little, in those first days, but they keep running into each other in the library—Sam looking at the bookshelves and Dean coming in from the garage with grease on his hands, and they look at each other and kind of shrug, kind of smile, but it’s—strange. Like there’s been some weight, counterbalancing the world, and now that it’s gone—

Sam goes for runs. Dean works on the car. They watch movies they meant to see when they were in theaters, and which can be watched now in the den Dean built for them, a six pack of beer between them and Dean hogging the popcorn. They drive through Lebanon together, pick up mail and groceries, and they argue over whether they’re having that tater tot hotdish recipe Donna sent again or whether they’re going to eat something that has a single vegetable in it, at all. They go out onto the empty abandoned farmland behind the bunker, and Dean’s found some battered lawnchairs from somewhere, and they sit with their feet kicked out into the long grass and pass a bottle of whiskey back and forth, and they watch the day slowly sliding into sunset, and then into night, and when there’s stars overhead Dean says, “Damn,” softly, and Sam laughs, just as quiet. Yeah. Yeah, that—about sums it up.

There’s a hunt, finally. Sam wasn’t even really looking, but he’s got the Google alerts set up and the hunt finds them, instead. He’s sitting in the kitchen with the remains of breakfast around, staring at his laptop. Missing women. Strange details, from the police reports. A mystery, that the locals can’t solve, and he’s got his teeth in his lip and he’s half-considering whether to just close the laptop lid and go—another run, another chore, just to not see it, even though it’s not like he doesn’t want to go—when there’s a scuff, and Dean says, “Hey,” easy, and then he’s caught, sitting, and Dean pauses and then comes up behind him, and leans in with one hand on the table and the other on Sam’s back, reading over his shoulder. Sam takes a deep breath. It’s like a thousand times before. A piece that had been missing starts to slide into place.

“Huh,” Dean says. His breath smells like coffee and Sam wrinkles his nose. Dean reaches around his arm and scrolls down on the webpage, reading. “Shapeshifter?”

Sam lifts a shoulder. “Could be,” he says, and he tries not to put any inflection in it. He doesn’t even know how he feels—he doesn’t want to affect what Dean might feel, either way.

There’s a look, aimed at the side of his face. Dean’s fingertips on his back dig in, just a little, warm and heavy. “Only a five hour drive,” Dean says, slowly. He stands up straight, but his hand doesn’t move. “Three women?”

Sam closes his eyes. “So far,” he says, and Dean’s fingertips slip away, and when he looks again Dean’s standing there in his robe with wet hair, healthy and burden-free and giving Sam this—Sam doesn’t even know how to read that face. Steady eyes, soft curve to his mouth. He shrugs one shoulder, too, hands in his robe pockets, and Sam huffs, smiles and doesn’t know why. That it can be a shrug, maybe. That it doesn’t feel like the end of the world. Just a job.

“I could get packed up in fifteen,” Sam says, offering, and Dean’s eyes crinkle, but he nods, and turns on his heel, and that means—a decision. Sam takes a deep breath and feels that dangling tether latch onto solid ground again. It’s been a month, free, but that’s the thing. They’re free either way.

Sam breaks his ring finger. Dean gets hit so hard on his shin, the bruise sinking so deep and painful, that they both think there’s been a hairline fracture, but the x-ray is clean and he’s just told to keep his weight off it for a few days. Sam drives home, Dean snoozing solidly in the passenger seat, and Sam keeps the radio down low but listens to the albums he picks (Zeppelin II and then Presence and then Zep III, both sides repeated twice), and he keeps smiling, off and on, the whole way home through the dark, because—they saved two women and stopped a fourth from being hurt, and they got the shifter, and it turns out—there’s still a reason, here. Still something.

He gets a crutch from the infirmary so Dean can stump down the stairs, bitching the whole way. It’s two in the morning but Sam’s not tired. Dean says something about a shower and disappears into the halls, grumbling about asshole shifters who get in lucky shots, and Sam’s left standing in the library with their bags, and he—god. God.

He pours a drink, from the good stuff Dean keeps in the crystal decanter. He sips at the glass and then presses it to his forehead, and smiles at nothing, thinking back. What an annoying goddamn week that case was. And yet, and yet. It was…

He sits, at the table. He sets his glass on a spare bit of scratch paper and runs his fingers over the carved-in marks. His and Dean’s initials are already worn smooth, nearly, from nights just like this. When he couldn’t sleep, and he couldn’t bear it. He can bear it, now. What a—gift.

Sam licks his lips. He sets his hand flat on the table, his splinted finger sticking out awkwardly. “Jack,” he says, to the empty air. The carved letters are rough, under his palm. “I guess—you can hear me. I haven’t—I haven’t been praying. I don’t know. It felt stupid. Weird. If you’re really a god now, then you know everything I might say. But maybe it…” He shakes his head and closes his eyes. The wood’s getting warm, from his palm sitting there. He takes a deep breath. “We went hunting, this week. I didn’t know if we’d—but it was exactly what we needed. We saved people, and we fixed something that was bad. Dean’s leg is gonna be okay. My hand hurts. But it’s—good. We did good. And it’s because of you, that we could do that, so I just wanted to say thank you.”

That’s what he’s been feeling, he realizes. All through the drive home. Just—thanks. That this is their life. That they can live it, now.

“Sam,” he hears, in Dean’s voice, and he opens his eyes, and—

Jack’s standing there, quiet, in the library. Dean’s leaned against the archway leading down to the map room with his crutch clutched in the other hand, and he glances at Sam but his eyes go right back to Jack.

He looks the same. Jeans, and that white jacket Sam picked out for him at the thrift store, and his hair falling softly over his forehead, and his face, set in gentle lines.

“Are you—” Sam cuts himself off. He doesn’t—what to say? What to ask?

“I heard you,” Jack says. He looks at Dean, frozen on the top stair. “Both of you.”

Sam’s attention snaps to Dean, who’s starting to flood up red in his ears. Jack smiles, small.

“I guess it’s…” Sam chews the inside of his lip. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to distract you or anything.”

“You didn’t,” Jack says, and of course not, because he’s—god.

“Why did you come?” Sam says.

Jack’s smile gets a little smaller, but doesn’t disappear. He doesn’t answer, either. Dean hitches his weight, puts a hand on the wall.

Sam licks his lips. There’s so much. “I guess—you already know anything I’d say, right?” Because he’s god. It keeps flooding up in Sam. That this kid, this sweet innocent kid that they’d done their best for, who Sam had taught to hold a gun and who Dean had taught to tie his shoes, he’s—everything. The alpha and omega, the spark of life in every cell. But that means he’s gone from them, too. Sam looks down at the table, trying not to show it. Knowing that Jack knows, either way.

“I know,” Jack says, like an echo. “But it’s good to say it, either way.”

Heat rises, at the back of Sam’s eyes. He smiles, even if it feels a little shaky, and when he looks up Jack’s just—himself. Exactly like Sam is going to remember him.

“Miss you, kiddo,” Dean says. His voice is thick. “And no one’s eating those dumb Sugar Smacks you made me get, either.”

“Yes, you are,” Jack says, giving Dean a look, and Sam laughs out loud, tears smarting at his eyes. “And you don’t have to miss me. I’m right here.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, and Jack smiles at him a little sidelong and then is—gone, without a rustle of feathers or a thunderclap or anything.

The library’s quiet. Amber lamplight, and the slight papery-dust smell of the air, and the wood under Sam’s hand. He pulls his hand back a little and looks. Dean’s knifework—angular but legible, and the edges still rough. He runs his thumb over the lines of the J. It’ll get smooth, eventually.

A flinching step, and Dean’s there, at his side. A hand, on his shoulder. “I’m no good at it,” Dean says, low, “but say thanks from me, too, okay.”

Sam knuckles away the wet from his eye. “Yeah,” he says, and has to clear his throat. “Yeah, I will.” Dean squeezes his shoulder. “And keep buying the Sugar Smacks, okay?”

Dean snorts. “I was gonna do that anyway,” he says, and Sam smiles, and gets a splinter from the table in his thumb. Dean helps pick it out with tweezers, under the lamplight. They get some sleep. They wake up again, to a cool and sunny morning, and get to live the life they choose.

#spn #15.19 spoilers #jack kline #sam winchester #feeling that coda feel #it's been so long <3 #my writing #this is gen #and i cried like one tear while writing but it's not sad #(i think it's not sad anyway)

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lagamorph · 3 years

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My favorite Quotes from the Sam and Max game part 4

(After crashing into a mailbox) Max: I have to point out Sam, that we could've avoided this gruesome accident, if you'd just let me drive Sam: And I have to point out that we could've avoided this gruesome accident if you hadn't jumped on my head, shouting, "Jersey Devil, Jersey Devil" firing your gun out the window Max: I swear that woman was a dead ringer for him

(When trying to get into the White House while Superball stops them and uses code words) Superball: Yeah that's a negative on the access permission sir, I'll have to ask you and your little friend to step away from the White House Max (to Sam): Doggy Daddy, this is Loose Cannon, request permission to pants this goon, over.

(Looking at a plaque on a building) Sam: "Your Name Here", for naming rights to this building please contact the office of desperation accounting Max: Oh boy! Can we Sam? Please! Sam: We'll see little buddy

(In Sybil's Office, talking about her new matchmaking career) Sam: Could you find dates for Max and me? Sybil: Seriously? I mean sure! Why not, stranger things have happened...I guess... They must have, somewhere. Max: I'm choosing not to be offended by that Sam: What do we need to do? Sybil: It's easy! Just submit an application

(Filling out a dating application) Sybil: Let me help you guys out, tell me your good points, and what your looking for in a date Sam: She should love animals Max: Such as the elusive praying mantis, whose deadly but enthralling mating rituals, she mimics! Sam: You really know how to ruin the mood Max Max: Oh, and cybernetic implants! Like an elbow that can connect to the internet

Sam: She should have an air of mystery Max: Making frequent mention to her time on the Chain Gang, but when pressed, revealing nothing

Sam: She should love the outdoors Max: We frequently lock ourselves out of the office

Sam: She should be tall Max: At least 12 feet, or 4 meters if she's canadian

Sam: I'm very spiritual Max: A disciple of the ancient ones, enacting dark magic rituals to bring forth again their rain upon this earth! Rise Sigaroth! Rise Abyalsalum! (Sam shakes his head at Max)

Sam: I lead an active life style Max: Always running from the authorities

Sam: I can appreciate a person's inner beauty Max: I even have my own sonogram machine

(After Sybil has put their applications into the "Decision Matrix") Sybil: Max it says your perfect match is... well, that's interesting. It says your perfect match is Sam. Max: Disturbing! And yet somehow, not completely unexpected Sybil: And Sam, your ideal soulmate is... Max: Wait for it... Sybil: Max! Sam: Well, there goes another blow to the concept of a fair and just universe

Max: Hey Sam, what do ya say, we never ever speak of this again Sam: Way ahead of ya little buddy

(The prompt was "Do you remember your first kiss Max?" But when pressed to say it, they say this) Max: Where you going to ask me something Sam? Sam:: I was, but decided I'd rather not hear about it

Sam: Ever feel lonely Max? Max: No, I have the voices to keep me company

Sam: I guess we should get back to work Max: When you love what you do, it doesn't even feel like work

Sam (to Max): What's your opinion on this Prismatology nonsense? Max: My religious faith is based on who gives away the best free stuff!

Boscoe: The governments watching us all the time Max: So that's why I always feel an overbearing presence just out of my field of vision, watching and judging my every move Sam:...That's me Max

(In Bosco's Inconveniance Store) Sam: Max and I are always the only one's in here Bosco: Is good thing! Merchandise is always available! Max: Coming in here is like visiting old friends Sam: Some of these cereal boxes are from the Mckenley administration Max (to Sam): I carved our initials in one of the weenies, so we'll be best friends forever Sam!

Max: Sam, this morning I used your toothbrush Max: Our phone bill sure is gonna be expensive this month

(Talking to Chuckles) Sam: Your co-dependancy sickens me Max: And it sickens me in exactly the same way, doesn't it Max- I mean Sam

Max: Should we pummel him together Sam? Or should we take turns?

Sam: I'm glad we took this time to talk Max Max: Keep in touch Sam, I mean that

(Doing a campaign speech) Max: We have nothing to fear but fear itself. And the Chulpacabra! Madre de dios he'll kill us all!

Sam: What's the date today Max? Max: I'm president of the United States Sam! What date do you want it to be?

Specs: I want to be respected as more then just a beloved TV celebrity Sam: If it makes you feel better, you where never really that beloved Max: Sam and I always watched your show with detached irony

Sybil: Men are such self-centered jerks Max: Preach it girlfriend!

Sam: Sounds fun, but I was thinking we could treat ourselves to some chocolate frosted gut-bombs and then have a little target practice down at the Smithsonian Max: Sam, you're my best friend.

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avintagekiss24 · 5 years

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Mysterious | Steve Rogers{

Pairing: Bisexual!Steve Rogers x anonymous!sex worker

Word Count: 500

Warnings: oral sex, hand job

Prompt: Day 5 - Glory Hole

A/N: Day 5 for @ruckystarnes kinktober challenge! I kinda struggled with this one, but that’s why I love this challenge. It’s pushing me into areas that I’m not so familiar with. Hope you enjoy, and thank you for all of the kind words so far!

-----

Steve finally found a moment to steal away from Natasha and Sam, sneaking out in the middle of the night as they slept. He knows the streets of Amsterdam like the back of his hand now. It’s become a home away from home since they the Avengers split unceremoniously.

He moves toward the back of the sex store, crossing into a hallway lined with doors. His eyes spy as cracked door and he moves toward it, slipping inside and locking it behind him. He flips off the TV immediately and rolls his shoulders as he eyes the hole in the wall. A shiver runs down his spine as he cracks his neck and runs his hands over the bulge in his jeans. He is so ready.

He pops the button of his jeans and slides his zipper down slowly as he releases as deep, slow breath. He inches toward the wall as he pulls his cock free, stroking it slowly before pushing through. Within seconds, fingers are wrapped around his warmth. The hand palms him, spreading out their fingers before they move down his thick shaft. Steve lets his head fall back slightly, his face tilted toward the ceiling as his lips part at the skin to skin contact.

The mysterious person strokes him slowly, twisting their hand and wrist as they push it up and down his cock. Steve gasps as lips are suddenly wrapped around the tip of his dick, a tongue flicking at his slit. He drops his head forward as his hips start to rock back and forth, pushing deeper and then retreating from the wet mouth on the other side. He hears a moan float toward him but he can’t discern if it’s male or female - not that it matters either way. Both Natasha and Sam keep that little secret for him, both having bedded the Captain while on the run.

Within minutes, Steve is lost in his arousal - his head swimming, his chest and balls tight as he’s sucked off. The pace has quickened ten fold, the once slow fingers now pumping with purpose as they release him from their mouth with a pop, before swallowing him again. Their tongue swirls around the pink head of his cock, and teases his leaking slit again until he can’t take anymore. He cums - hard. Hot, long ribbons of his seed filling the mouth and dripping over the fingers of the stranger. His dick jumps as he continues to spurt cum, over and over again until he’s milked dry.

Relaxation floods through him as the fingers slow along his shaft, the mouth now licking and kissing his cock to clean him up. Steve pulls himself out slowly. He digs into his back pocket, grabbing cash out of his wallet before slipping it through the money slot. He slips out of the room and out of the club with precision, leaving the mysterious stranger none the wiser to the fact that they just gagged on Captain America’s cock.

#rucky's kinktober 2019 #steve rogers #bisexual!steve rogers #bisexual steve rogers #bi steve rogers #bi steve #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfic #captain america fanfiction #captain america fandom #marvel #mcu #avintagekiss24

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mrs-evadne-cake · 4 years

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“You shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed to.”- Movies And TV

Since we’re about to hit the Stranger Things Doldrums where it’s been a while since S3 and S4 has just started filming and if you’re anything like me you’re gonna start jonesing bad- I thought I’d make a So You Need A Hit survival kit for myself of some Stranger Things-esque media to read/watch/play during the wait and that maybe you guys might be interested too. Not all of them are gonna set the world on fire- but hopefully there’s some stuff that people haven’t seen before Expect a lot of Small Town Nostalgia, a bunch of monsters, and more plucky, dangerously unsupervised kids than you can shake a stick at.

(STRANGER THINGS-ESQUE RECS CON’T)

It (2019 and 1990): “Set in 1989 (and 1959, respectively) in the fictional town of Derry, Maine, the story begins when a young boy named George "Georgie" Denbrough disappears after the sudden arrival of a mysterious clown named Pennywise. Georgie's older brother, Bill, is left distraught by his disappearance, and after an encounter with Pennywise, looks for the help of six other outcasts who have had similar encounters with the clown and its other forms. The seven work together to examine the behavior of this shapeshifting creature — which they dub "IT" — and see if they can rescue Bill's missing brother at the same time.” -TVTropes (Obviously)

Super 8 “A group of middle schoolers in a small Ohio town in 1979 are dedicated to making a zombie movie to enroll in an upcoming film festival... While filming a scene late at night, they happen upon a freak train crash and barely escape before the authorities show up. Shaken up by the experience, they find that they accidentally filmed something on their Super 8-mm film camera in the aftermath of the crash, and soon they're caught up in strange happenings with a monster on the lose and a secret military operation.”- TVTropes

(You don’t get closer to ST than Super 8. If this doesn’t fill the Teenagers, Monsters and CIA shaped hole in your life nothing will.)

Monster Squad - “The film follows the exploits of a group of genre-savvy kids who seek to stop Dracula — and a host of other infamous movie monsters — from finding a mystical amulet and bringing about The End of the World as We Know It.” -TVTropes

Midnight Special “Alton Meyer, an 8-year-old boy with supernatural abilities, has been reported missing. In reality, his father Roy, along with Roy's lifelong friend Lucas, have taken the boy from the religious compound where he previously lived and gone on the run. Meanwhile, they are being pursued by members of the religious sect and agents of the FBI and NSA, both of whom are pursuing Alton for their own ends.”-TVTropes

Beyond the Gates Two estranged brothers reunite at their missing father's video store and find a cursed VCR board game dubbed 'Beyond The Gates' that holds a connection to their father's disappearance.” -IMDB

The Hole (Joe Dante 2009) “17-year-old Dane Thompson, his 10-year-old brother Lucas, and their mother, Susan, move from Brooklyn to the quiet town of Bensenville where Dane and Lucas befriend their next door neighbor, Julie. While exploring their new home, Dane and Lucas discover a trapdoor with several locks along each side in the basement. Opening the trapdoor reveals a hole which appears to be bottomless and leads to the darkest corridors of their fears and nightmares.” -IMDB

The Babysitter “Tells the story of a twelve-year-old boy named Cole Johnson who is constantly bullied, but is very good friends with his babysitter Bee. One night, while his parents are away in a hotel, Cole stays up to see what Bee does after his bedtime...and things take a turn for the worse.”- TVTropes

The Lost Boys “A recently divorced mother and her two sons move to Santa Carla, CA. The older one, Michael, falls in with a gang of biker vampires; the younger, Sam, befriends a couple of seemingly insane comic store assistants. When Michael begins turning into a vampire it’s up to Sam, with the help of the Frog brothers, to save him.”- TVTropes

(For the Billy fans out there since Jason Patric and Dacre Montgomery got the same look going.)

Twin Peaks “The plot kicks off with the discovery of a teen cadaver, one Laura Palmer. Eccentric FBI agent Dale Cooper responds to the matter in Twin Peaks, Washington, where he's teamed with the trusty-if-skeptical Sheriff Harry S. Truman. With the arrival of the Feds, further scandals start to bubble to the surface along with this supposedly unprecedented crime. Cooper, meanwhile, finds himself visited by enigmatic visions and dreams pointing to the real culprit.” -TVTropes

Marianne : “Emma, a famous and successful French horror writer, is forced to return to her hometown after the woman who haunted her dreams fifteen years ago begins to re-appear. The work she writes is apparently a work of fiction, but how much is fact? Joined by her childhood friends she finds herself battling a creature that takes the form of her own creation.” Wiki

(This series is one of the most legitimately frightening things I’ve seen in ages and feels more like a Stephen King adaption than most ACTUAL Stephen King adaptions. Like IT it bounces back and forth between a bunch of childhood friends as kids and adults as they fight a monster- originally French but the English dub is excellent for those who don’t like subs.) No-Creature Features:

Summer of ‘84 - “In the Summer of 1984, in the sleepy suburb of Ipswitch, Oregon, teenager Davey Armstrong is a conspiracy theorist who begins to suspect that a neighbouring police officer is a serial killer. With help from three friends, Davey launches a daring investigation that soon turns dangerous.” -IMDB

The Sandlot “Follows the summer adventures and misadventures of a group of boys and their ragtag baseball team playing on "The Sandlot," their makeshift baseball field in Los Angeles, during the summer of 1962.” -IMDB

(You’re KILLIN’ me Smalls.)

Stand By Me: Twelve-year-old Gordie and his friends Chris Chambers ,Teddy Duchamp and Vern Tessio journey into the woods near their home to look for the body of a boy named Ray Brower, who was struck by a train while picking berries. Through the boys' misadventures and conversations, the viewer learns about each character and their friendships.- Wiki

The Goonies: “A small group of kids living on the "Goon Docks" of Astoria, Oregon are in dire straits: the owners of a local country club have threatened their families' homes with foreclosure so they can finish building a new addition to said country club. On one of their last days in the neighborhood, one of the "Goonies", Mikey discovers a Treasure Map in his attic. The map supposedly reveals where to find the treasure of infamous pirate One-Eyed Willie —but to get it, they must outwit a trio of mobsters and survive numerous death traps designed to keep One-Eyed Willie's treasure safe from outsiders.” -TVTropes

#movies #stranger things #media similar to stranger things recs

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

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To Keep You Safe

Title: We wear red so they don’t see us bleed

Chapter: 5/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn’t have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E (later on)

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions.

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings for this chapter: Blood, language, and violence

After our talk, to his credit, Loki did give me a wide berth. For the next several weeks of life on the Compound, I trained and practiced with Natasha and Wanda, hung out with Thor and Sam, and watched TV with Steve without a single confrontation–let alone sighting. The Trickster God had to have been using whatever abilities he normally employed to keep tabs on everyone to steer clear of me. And that was one hundred percent peachy-keen in my book.

Tony and Bruce finally finished their extensive testing on all things me. It was decided that the only powers the mystery box gave me were geokinesis and an increased healing rate. When I asked for a reason why this happened, I was given some medical mumbo jumbo that instantly turned my brain to mush. Long story short, they didn’t know what the box had been, only what it had done to me, and it wasn’t going away. This was my new normal.

The knowledge that this wasn’t going away was one hell of a motivator to get a better handle on everything. And because of that, my grasp on my powers improved. I could control more than one object at a time, and it didn’t drain me physically nearly as much as it did in the beginning. Nor did it require such an emotional toll. I could draw on them without bringing forth the full scope of emotional upheaval as before, although that did seem to help. There was still so much work to do, but I was getting there. Slowly but surely.

As for my physical abilities, those lessons were kicking my ass just as much as I had anticipated. I wasn’t super strong like Steve or Thor, so I had to be more thoughtful and strategic when fighting. Brute force wasn’t going to work when I was only five and a half feet tall and preferred cookies to carrots. Natasha worked on teaching me various martial art techniques that relied more on striking effectively than hammering away at my opponent with my fists. It made sense but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard as hell. I limped away from our training sessions covered in bruises and nursing strained muscles more often than not. Thank goodness for accelerated healing. I needed it to keep up with the grueling sparring sessions.

~~~

Flashing red lights and F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoing throughout the entire Compound jerked me out of my exhaustion-induced sleep. “All Avengers report to the Quinjet immediately. All Avengers, gather your gear and report to the Quinjet immediately.”

I lurched out of bed and ran to my closet, throwing on a pair of dark jeans and a thick long-sleeved t-shirt. I didn’t have a custom suit like everyone else, but this seemed like it would do for whatever I would tackle. I shoved a sturdy pair of boots on my feet and I was barreling out the door.

Natasha was just leaving her room, already fully dressed and ready to kick ass. We both sprinted down the stairs and through the building, crossing the lawn into the hangar. Thor, Bruce, and Captain were all running inside the jet, followed by Natasha. Tony was poised at the edge of the ramp to get inside, looking anxious as he waved people in. When I tried to rush passed him he put his arm across my chest, barring my entrance.

“No can do, Poison Ivy. You’re not ready,” he stated, leaving no room for argument.

Not that I wouldn’t try.

“But what if I-?

“Nope. You stay here with Rock of Ages. F.R.I.D.A.Y. will keep you updated. You’d be a liability. We can’t risk it.” The visor over his face retracted into the suit, allowing him to level me with a hard stare. He didn’t even glance at Vision flying into the jet while holding Wanda securely in his arms.

“Get back. You’ll get burned,” he said more softly, a paternal concern twisting his lips into a frown. He pushed me away from the ramp and jogged inside, closing it behind him.

I had no choice but to back away out of the hangar, watching uselessly as the Quinjet started up and flew through an invisible opening in the force field surrounding the Compound. Once it was gone I pulled out my phone, checking the time. At only four in the morning, it was going to be a long day if all I did was sit around and wait for them to come back.

After heading back into my room and changing from jeans and boots into athletic shorts and tennis shoes, I headed to the gym. If I wasn’t ready for this mission I was going to be ready for the next one. Even if I had to spend hours taking out my frustration and anxiety on a punching dummy until my knuckles bled.

During a break around noon, I chugged water and wiped the sweat from my brow. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., any news?” I panted.

“Sorry, Jen. All I can say is that they made it to their destination and everyone is still alive,” she responded, somehow managing to sound remorseful even as a computer program.

I snarled in frustration and threw down the now empty water bottle, punishing the practice dummy in front of me an elbow to the face. Several hours of doing my best to beat the living daylights out of the dummy and it was no worse for the wear, while the soreness and exhaustion in my limbs weighed them down considerably. But it was this or stare at the TV or wall in the living room distractedly as my mind raced with all the things that could go wrong for them on this sudden mission, and this at least wore me out enough so that I might be able to sleep later.

“Perimeter breach. Perimeter breach. One helicopter on the main lawn,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang out through the compound and my phone in my pocket as red lights flashed throughout the Compound.

Just as I did that morning, I dropped what I was doing and sprang into action--despite my protesting muscles.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit,” I cursed, stopping short just outside the building. A sleek black helicopter was hovering over the middle of the Compound with four men dressed in black protective gear descending from the sides on ropes. As I watched in shock, two more helicopters came into view and began depositing their payloads of terrifying men as well.

As soon as their feet hit the ground, they raised impressive-looking guns into their sightlines and ran toward the main building. Right at me.

Ah hell.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., I could use some backup,” I grunted, crouching down behind a bush and looking around to see what I had nearby I could use as weapons. Some trees, basketball sized rocks and a giant decorative boulder were all I could see. Awesome.

“The team is still off-base, Jen,” she replied, her voice muffled from my phone in my back pocket. Super awesome.

It was a long shot, but I had to ask her anyway. “What about Loki?”

“He is handling the intruders on the West side of the Compound, Jen. Several groups have come in on foot.”

Loki was helping? What in the world was that about? Maybe it was just a chance to do something, wreak some havoc, as he had to be bored as hell cooped up here without an outlet. If his boredom and need for mayhem was keeping more men off of my back, I’d take it.

But, that still left the group in front of me for me to handle on my own. I’d never fought anyone, not really. Sparring with Nat and training with Wanda did not live up to this experience at all in terms of preparedness. I was the end of the line, though, so I had to try my best. Gritting my teeth, I focused on the ground, lifting my arms and pulling up as much dirt and debris from the grass as I could. The men slowed their advance at the peculiar sight, but only just enough to look at one another briefly before continuing. With a shout I sent the debris flying at them, hoping to blind them temporarily while I figured out what the heck I was supposed to do next. My weak plan wasn’t the most effective. I was disheartened as they crept on even as they blinked dirt from their eyes.

Plan B. I curled my fingers inward and ripped several thin branches from the tree nearest to myself. Aiming the sharp, broken ends at the men, I flicked my fingers outward and sent them flying with as much oomph as I could muster. Only one went through the neck of a man and sent him bleeding and thrashing to the ground. The rest hit their helmets or thick kevlar vests like they were nothing.

“I’m so screwed,” I muttered. My aim still wasn’t the best with multiple projectiles, and that was without having spent the morning taking out my frustrations in the gym. The adrenaline rushing through me could only do so much to compensate, and that wasn’t going to last forever.

The closest to me grabbed something off of his belt and threw it at the building behind me. I whipped my head around, tracking the beeping with my eyes to get a better look at what had been thrown. Having never seen one in real life, my brain stuttered over what it was for half a second. They had grenades?!

My feet carried me away from the building before I had made the conscious decision to move, propelling me as fast as possible from the explosive. It just wasn’t quite fast enough. The shockwave battered against me, followed by tiny pricks of pain all over the back of my body as white-hot glass embedded itself in my unprotected skin. The cry that tore through my lips was almost silent to my ringing ears, but it was enough to draw the attention of the men, who rained bullets down on me.

No time to think or run, I brought a large, decorative stone in front of me like a shield. I saw dust particles and chunks of rock fall to the ground and I struggled to keep it between me and the men. My teeth ground together and all the muscles in my body strained as I directed all of the energy that constantly coursed through me at holding up the massive weight while also slowly backing away from them. I just needed to get inside the building. I could take them out one at a time if I could get more cover. Maybe.

As soon as I was close enough to the now blown-out glass wall, I shoved my hands and, consequently, the boulder at two of the men and dashed inside, slamming my back into a concrete wall for cover and ignoring the wave of pain it brought to the new wounds I had just gotten. Thank goodness for modern minimalist architecture and adrenaline.

I took a few deep breaths and got to my knees, turning around to poke my head out to see who was left. Two pairs of legs were still beneath the human-sized boulder I had thrown, so that just left nine baddies for me to deal with. Going for broke and hoping that this was something I could do, I reached out towards a tree near the back of the group. I could feel the glowing life-force of it, from the tips of the branches to the roots.

“Here goes nothing,” I growled, directing my energy to the roots, willing them to grow. I reached out and pulled hard, and for my efforts, I saw the thick dark roots burst from the ground and race toward one of the men. They tangled around his ankles as I twisted my fingers in a circle, pulling him down and wrapping around his body. He panicked and fired his weapon wildly, trying to shoot the roots off of him, but only succeeded in hitting the stomach of one of his buddies. I urged the roots to wrap around his chest and neck, and the shooting stopped abruptly.

In the distraction of flexing my newfound powers, I failed to notice the man coming up around the wall until just before he shot. I ducked my head and the bullet lodged itself into the concrete inches from my ear, sending grit flying into my eyes. I wildly turned, flailing desperately and pulling another stone from outside to slam into the back of his unprotected neck.

As the man fell, I saw the muzzle of his gun flash before white-hot agony exploded in my shoulder.

In the movies, when someone gets stabbed or shot, usually they'll fly back dramatically and scream. They have a few seconds to mutter some last words and then it's over. Turns out getting shot isn't like the movies. I didn't fly back several feet, soaring through the air to sprawl ungainly onto the floor. I sank to sit on my heels, blinking harshly as my brain attempted to process the worst pain I'd ever experienced as it radiated from my shoulder. My hand shot up to cover the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood as it pulsed out of my body in time with my staccato heartbeat. It took several tries to take a deep breath, the action seemingly doing more harm than good as the movement tugged on my shoulder.

Gotta focus. I had to get my head in the game. The remaining seven bad guys were still coming, and fast. It didn’t matter that I was injured to them. They weren’t going to stop to give me a time out to get patched up, so I just had to keep going. My best bet on stopping them relied on my being able to see them which unfortunately meant sticking my head out of cover. I clenched my teeth as I got to my feet and let out a guttural battle cry as I turned around to face them.

I was most definitely going to die today, but when my friends returned and watched the footage, I didn’t want them to see me cowering in fear until one of them put a bullet in my brain. That wasn’t what being an Avenger was about. It was about fighting until the last breath, and taking down as many of these bastards as I could along the way. Sorry, guys. Sorry, Tony.

Heads turned in my direction, guns following suit. With one hand busy gripping my bullet wound, the other curled into a fist as I focused on bringing every single stone on the Compound lawn levitating in the air.

“Get down!” Loki shouted, running from the opposite side of the building toward me, looking the battle-hardened warrior in his leather armor. An invisible force knocked me to the ground with such force that the back of my head bounced against the tile floor.

And then everything became a blur.

Loki screaming in rage.

Deafening tearing and ripping sounds.

Bullets flying and smashing into the wall.

Warm blood matting my hair and pooling in the hollows of my neck.

Blood-curdling screams cutting off suddenly.

A pale, unfocused face.

Excruciating pain as I was jostled into strong arms.

Is this what dying feels like?

The scent of iron and sweat and leather and spice.

“I am not allowing you to die, damn it!”

And then darkness swallowed me whole.

~~~

A flurry of voices pulled me from the blissful, painless darkness.

“It’s been three days.”

“I know that. Her vitals are stable. You gotta give her time.”

“That’s not good enough!”

“What else can we do?”

I took stock of my body with my eyes closed. My limbs were heavy on the soft surface that I rested on, probably a bed. Besides the voices, a steady beeping that matched the painful drumbeat in my head. Probably a heart monitor, which meant that I was in some sort of a hospital. Itching fire burned on my shoulder, and I blamed that for the real reason why I had woken up. It was impossible to ignore, just like the loud voices echoing around the room.

“You can stop shouting in my room, for starters,” I croaked, my voice dry and scratchy from disuse. God, I sounded weak.

I peeled my eyes open only to immediately close them against the bright lights above me. Trying again, I opened them just enough to squint at my surroundings. I’d landed myself in the infirmary of the Compound once again. Not a hospital, but I had been close enough. A frazzled Tony, Natasha, and Thor appeared to be the culprits for the shouting match I’d just heard.

“If you’re going to shout, at least give me some more pain meds so I can sleep through it,” I grumbled, hoping that the bad attempt at humor would ease some of the anxiety from their faces as I tried to sit up in the bed, only to fall back down with a gasp as soon as I put weight on my shoulder. The shock of pain was enough to tell me that that was a very bad idea right now.

All three rushed over to me at once. Thor took my right hand carefully, mindful of the IV connected to the back of it, and Natasha took the left. Tony moved behind my bed only to reappear with a syringe full of unknown liquid that he injected into the IV line. Within moments a weight smothered the pain and pulled a sigh of relief from deep within me. Ahh, pain meds.

“Milady, I am so glad to see you awake,” Thor said softly, his thumb lightly stroking the backs of my fingers as he smiled down at me.

“We gotta work on your observation skills,” Nat teased, gesturing to my shoulder and giving me a thin smile.

“Pebbles, I thought I told you not to scare me like this,” Tony chided me, standing at my feet. His hands rested on my blanket-covered ankles, clutching them like I was going to run out of the room and get shot up again. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Once was enough for me.

“What happened?” I directed my quiet question at Tony, knowing he would have the most forthright answer of the bunch.

“We have been searching for these six rocks, called Infinity Stones. That’s what Vision has in his head, the Mind Stone. This guy called Thanos is trying to get all of them together. Reindeer Games says that he wants to rule the world with it, wipe out half of everything in existence. So, we’ve been trying to track them down,” he said, brow furrowed. “We’ve already destroyed one, well, Wanda did. The Mind Stone. Thor stole it from some nut job on another planet months ago. The Space Stone was in the Tesseract, which Loki had. When he and Thor escaped Ragnarok, Loki brought it back as a peace offering. So that’s one’s gone, too. F.R.I.D.A.Y. is programmed to look for certain… anomalies that might be one of the remaining stones being used. She’s found one in New York City, but the wizard that is currently using it won’t give it up. That’s a work in progress. Something sketchy was happening in New York City, and that was the alert that she gave us. It was Thanos, with the Soul Stone, trying to get the other stone from the wizard. We managed to get it from him. Took a few licks, Steve broke an arm and Wanda a leg, but it’s destroyed now. We’re still looking for the Power Stone and the Reality Stone,” he rambled, exhaustion lining his face as he recalled the events he had rattled off.

“That’s, um, a lot to take in,” I replied, my thoughts muddled by the glorious meds I had been given. That was a lot to unpack, and I wasn’t in any state to even try to do that. It could wait for another day.

“Yeah, so, anyway, we were off fighting Grimace when those assholes from Hydra attacked here. We didn’t even know about it until we got back onto the jet and F.R.I.D.A.Y. let us know. We booked it as fast as we could, but it had been almost a whole day since…” he trailed off, swallowing thickly and gripping my ankles just a little tighter as he shifted his gaze to my blanket-covered knees.

Natasha chimed in, “Tony was able to stream a live feed from F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s cameras. We saw everything.”

“You fought valiantly against the attackers. Loki took up the battle after you had fallen, finishing it in your stead,” Thor added, his voice clear and proud. Whether it was for me or his brother, that was to be determined. I was too exhausted to worry too much.

Tony nodded to Thor and Natasha in silent thanks. “Standing up like some action hero was a dumbass move, by the way,” he paused, staring me down until I felt thoroughly chewed out.

Only after I looked appropriately shamed for my actions did he continue, “Him knocking you on your ass gave you that nasty goose egg on the back of your head. He took out the rest of the Hydra men before getting you up here. I’m not sure what voodoo he did, but he got the bullet out of your shoulder and slowed the bleeding until the doctors I called could get here,” he finished, taking a deep breath.

“By the time we arrived, you were sound asleep and all patched up. Loki hadn’t left your side the whole time,” Nat added, her brow raised.

A yawn escaped from my mouth without warning and I nodded through it, pulling my hand away from her to at least cover my gaping maw. “Loki saved me?” I asked on the tail-end of the huge yawn.

“If it weren’t for Loki, you would be through the gates of Valhalla by now, Milady,” Thor whispered, his eyes grave as they met mine.

Tony let go of me and walked to my side, nudging Nat out of the way so he could rest the back of his hand on my forehead. “You feeling okay?” he asked, changing the subject abruptly.

The change of subject was not unwelcome. The pain meds seemed to spread like molasses throughout my brain, muddling my already scattered and confused thoughts. There were magical stones that some dude named Thanos wanted to use to destroy half of everything? And the Avengers had been going after them all of this time without my knowledge? How long had these missions been going on where I thought one thing was happening and it was something entirely different? And there was no way in Hell would Loki ever save my life. I was a thorn in his side that made his time stuck in this compound a thousand times worse. No one would’ve blamed him if he’d ‘forgotten’ in the heat of battle to push me into cover, letting Hydra riddle me with bullets.

“Uh, yeah, totally. I could go dancing I feel so great,” I muttered sarcastically, pulling myself out of my thoughts and into the room filled with my friends who watched me with concern.

“It’s on, Jen,” Nat said, winking at me from the edge of my bed.

“Let’s give her some space to rest up, guys,” Tony said, flipping his hand around on my forehead and rubbing it lightly with his thumb before stepping away.

Natasha and Thor both nodded to me with a smile before they left the room, the door whirring shut behind them. Tony gave me a final once-over and then left, calling out before the door closed, “The team left some flowers for you on the bedside table. Don’t kill anyone with them!”

After smiling at the expensive-looking glass vase of roses, I snuggled further into the soft sheets and fell into a deep, drug-induced sleep.

~~~

A cool hand on the side of my head woke me suddenly. My eyes tore open and my left hand shot out, grabbing the attacker before they could do me any harm.

“Loki,” I whispered, startled to see the Asgardian Prince at my bedside. What was he doing here?

“If you’d release my hand, I can resume checking your head wound,” he said flatly.

It was hard to grasp, the annoyed god at my bedside in casual black slacks and a white button-down shirt, waiting for me to let him go when he could easily remove himself from my grip. “Oh.” I sheepishly let go of him, my hand falling to rest at my side.

He maintained eye contact with me for a moment, his brow furrowed as he searched my eyes before looking back at the back of my head. His long fingers moved to my jaw, tugging it away from him so he could get a better look at the injury. I felt them move to probe it gently, pausing whenever I let out a hiss of pain.

“I need to change the bandage again.” His voice was firm but gentle. His tone alone threw me for a loop. It was so odd to hear him speaking cordially to me when I was used to him hissing like a snake or shouting up a storm.

As I busied himself behind me, I searched for the remote that typically accompanies a hospital bed. Finally finding it tucked beneath my leg, I used it to slowly move the automatic bed so I was sitting up. By the time I was finished Loki had come to the other side of the bed with a syringe filled with clear liquid. His piercing green eyes met mine once again as he hesitated only briefly before injecting it into my IV. Had he been waiting for me to stop him? The familiar weight of pain medication flooded my body, revealing what he had done moments before without my prompting.

He put down the syringe onto the table beside my flowers. Only now, instead of the single vase waiting for me, there was another. A single sunflower sat in a tall elegant black and gold vase. I looked back to Loki with a furrowed brow, watching him place bandages, gauze, and alcohol next to the new gift.

Finally, unable to hold back my confusion any longer, I blurted out, “Why are you helping me, Loki?”

“Because you are injured. I’ve taken over this aspect of your care since you arrived.” He said it so matter of factly it was almost an insult. As if there was no question that he wouldn’t be doing such a selfless act and he was offended that I would think he’d act differently.

“One of the others could handle this. Why are you helping me,” I pressed.

He sighed heavily and refused to reply, instead reaching out and placing his fingertips on either side of my face to tilt my head forwards off of the pillow. He moved out of my line of sight for a brief moment and I heard water running before he returned to lean over me, his chest inches from my face. This close, I was able to smell the strong spicy and masculine scent that I was quickly beginning to recognize as distinctly him. A warm, damp compress was pressed to the back of my head.

“Some blood soaked through the bandage into your hair. I need to cleanse it before I can remove the bandage.” He smoothed the damp cloth over my head again and again, the pain meds he had given me doing their job to take away the pain and leave only pressure in its wake.

The bloody rag was tossed unceremoniously into a hamper across the room, and then he grabbed the alcohol and gauze next. Some part of my mind screamed that I shouldn’t be letting him do this, that he was going to turn around any second and wrap those long fingers around my throat to finish me off, but a more rational part of me shut that down. If he was going to kill me, there would be no sense in saving my life in the first place.

And there wasn’t any hatred or malice in his gaze as I strained my eyes to look up to him without moving my head. To be completely honest, I couldn’t glean any emotion from his impassive face as he worked over me. Whatever he had to be feeling was currently locked away behind stony eyes and a firmly-set mouth.

“I’ve been watching you, Jennifer. As you train with the Witch and the Widow. Both will throw you to the ground repeatedly, besting you, and you stand right up and try again. You never give up. You clean up after the others when they forget without expecting gratitude or repayment. You set out the protein powder for the Widow and Captain each night. You explain the flavors of the food you’re eating to Vision. When they left you behind three days ago, instead of pouting like a child, you took to bettering yourself.” As he spoke he tended to the large gash on the back of my head, his soothing cool touch at odds with the confusion that littered his own words. As if I were some puzzle that he couldn’t piece together with just my odd actions as a guide.

How long had he been watching me to notice these things? And when had he noticed them? I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in weeks. He may as well have disappeared off the planet for all that I had encountered him. And had he taken the time to notice these behaviors, or had they simply been a byproduct of his observant nature? Was I a puzzle to him that he must observe to find out, or did he watch everybody that carefully? And how the hell had I not noticed him noticing this?

“And, I need to make amends,” he added, voice so low that I almost didn’t hear it through my scattered thoughts.

His deft fingers left my skin and he placed the remnants of the medical supplies on the table. I took it as a sign that I could move my head and search his face more comfortably, trying to figure out where all of this was coming from. This was not the Loki that I knew. The Loki that I knew would be mocking me for my injuries, possibly prodding my wound to watch me squirm, if he was even here at all. Was this him trying to make things right, to 'make amends' as he had called it? Surely I, the puny mortal, wasn't worth the effort. His actions said otherwise.

He clenched his jaw, meeting my curious gaze with his own. “You knew that you were no match for those men, but you fought them anyway. Why?” Another piece of the puzzle that he couldn’t find a place for.

I swallowed thickly, flashes of the encounters playing through my mind. I killed those men. My heart sped up and tears burned in my eyes despite my clenching them shut. My lungs were unable to hold onto the air from my quick, shallow breaths as their deaths flashed through my mind. Sending an improvised spear through a man’s neck. Crushing a man to death with tree roots. Doing the same to two more with the decorative boulder. Hitting the one who shot me with a rock at the base of his skull. I hadn’t seen him die, but it had hit too hard for him to survive that.

I killed them. I killed them. I’m a murderer.

“Breathe, little one. Breathe, " Loki soothed, his voice velvet as it washed over me.

The bed pitched as he perched himself on it by my hip, and I heard his fingers snapping to get my attention. But it wasn’t loud enough, wasn’t enough to get me to open my eyes and stop the flood of images that refused to leave my mind’s eye.

“If you hadn’t have done what you were forced to do, you would be dead,” he assured me, his voice steady and sure as he tried to pull me out of my ever-increasing panic attack.

I would’ve died either way, so was killing them something I should’ve done? I lowered my chin to my chest, feeling lightheaded as I struggled to take in enough air. My whole body trembled and I pulled my knees to my chest beneath the blankets, wrapping my good arm around them to hold them to me. The onslaught of death paraded through my mind unbidden and unrelenting.

“Look at me,” he commanded. His cool hand cupped my chin, lifting my face so that he could see me more clearly. His thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away the tears that I hadn't even realized had escaped. But it was as if I lost the ability to open my eyes, his attempts be damned. I couldn’t do it even though I so desperately wanted to.

His other hand reached out and settled onto my knee, and it was so startling that I ripped open my eyes and looked at him. Concern softened his features, at odds the harshness of his tone. “They forced your hand. You are not a murderer."

I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I chose silence as I focused on him. He was breathing more forcefully than normal, in through his nose and out through his mouth, and I copied him. We stayed that way for several moments, him showing me how to breathe through my panic and me following his lead. Slowly, the lightheadedness lessened enough so that I could focus. The terrible visions in my head were replaced with the piercing green eyes that held me captive.

Satisfied that I was calming down, he asked again, “Now, answer me this: Why did you fight those men when you knew you were going to lose?”

I looked away to his hand on my knee, the long fingers completely covering it even beneath the thickness of several blankets. It was easier to gather my thoughts without having to watch his reaction to them.

What had I been thinking?

“I… I knew I was the last line of defense. F.R.I.D.A.Y. said I was on my own. Was I supposed to just let them do whatever shitty thing they came to do? Guys busting through Tony’s forcefield in battle gear and assault rifles aren’t showing up to ask for a cup of sugar. If I hadn’t have done anything, they would have found me and killed me anyway. I was dead either way, but maybe I could stop enough of them that you could take the rest out if you came to help.” I ran my hand over my face, dislodging his grip from my chin in the process. “I-I didn’t mean to kill them, but I did mean to stop them. And then after that asshole shot me, I was one hundred percent dead anyway. I was bleeding out. So I might as well take as many out as I could before I go,” I shrugged, wincing at the discomfort the movement brought to my shoulder, even with the haze of medication.

“That reeks of the same self-sacrificing hero act that my brother and his troupe of morons put on. That was foolish and unnecessary,” he scolded.

I offered him nothing more than another shrug, but only of my uninjured shoulder, for his reprimand. It probably was, in his mind, but that didn't mean that I agreed.

“Did you not think I would come to your aid?” Loki asked, the smallest expression of hurt registering on his face as he brought attention to its cause.

“The last time we talked you held a knife to my throat, and then I did the same to you. Kinda. It was a tree branch, but it still counts. Why would you help me? If they had finished the job then you’d have a much easier life here. You wouldn’t have to avoid me and constantly worry about Thor breaking your face whenever I throw a fit. You could skulk around at night or on the roof without running into me. I’m just in your way.”

A muscle in Loki’s jaw ticked at my words, but he didn’t say anything he as considered them. The silence was almost more painful than the hole in my shoulder. I idly reached up to scratch at the bandage and his hand reached up and slapped it away.

He frowned at me. “I need to redress that as well. Leave it be.”

The silence stretched on as he organized the supplies he’d need in front of him and then tugged the hem of my large hospital gown down my arm to expose my shoulder and better access the bullet wound. His spindly fingers were quick and efficient in their work of removing the bandage, cleansing the wound, and then replacing the dressings with clean ones. His steady touch coming and going from my bare skin sent my heart skittering in my chest. I didn’t allow myself to wonder why it was invoking that reaction in me, but I did allow for the luxury of watching him unnoticed.

I'd never taken the time to actually see the man tending to my wounds. Taking the time to really inspect him, I was surprised to find that he was very easy to look at. His skin was unblemished and smooth, no hint of age showing on it except for the wrinkles that appeared as he furrowed his brow or squinted his eyes to get a better look at his task. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and I trailed my eyes downward to the small amount of pale chest that his unbuttoned collar revealed, not a single hair to be seen. His shirt didn't hide the lean muscles that rippled beneath his skin as he worked, and some strange part of me wondered what they would feel like if I reached out and closed the distance between us. For lack of a better, more eloquent word, he was beautiful. As if sculpted by the very gods that he proclaimed himself to be. His beauty was more delicate compared to the rugged masculinity of the men of the Avengers that I was used to associating with, but that didn't make it any less lovely to behold. Just different.

I pulled my wandering eyes back up to his, a blush betraying me and heating up my skin when I found that he had been watching me look at him. The intensity of his gaze knocked me back to my senses, and I quickly looked down at my hands as they twisted around themselves. He didn't say anything, however, keeping up the silence until he was finished and throwing away the soiled bandages in the trash across the room. With his overwhelming presence gone and his large hands off my skin, I felt the tension I had unknowingly been holding in my clenched muscles ease away and my mind clear a little more. Loki paused in front of the door with his back to me, one hand resting on the windowsill beside the door.

“One thing I’ve only recently learned from my brother is to never leave a warrior behind. Especially not one of such caliber.” He took a deep breath, his shoulders heaving with the movement. “And I’m not willing to lose anyone else.”

And then he was gone, leaving behind my favorite blood-stained rock on the windowsill.

#to keep you safe #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #loki/ofc #blood tw #violence tw #language tw

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bby-bxrnes · 6 years

Text

Reading Between The Lines

Ship: Bucky Barnes x Deaf!Reader

Summary: When Bucky first meets you at his favorite bookstore, he just thinks you’re shy, since you don’t talk. But then he sees you signing to one of the workers, he realizes how much of an idiot he must have seemed like.

Words: 3266

Warnings: Bucky is an adorable oblivious shit, major fluff

A/N: This was requested by @moderapoppins: “What about one where the reader is again deaf but Bucky meets her out in the world (like a bookstore or coffee shop or something) and he eventually lets the others in on her existence?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since he came back, Bucky found a strong comfort in reading. He would immerse himself in books constantly, he always had one in his hand wherever he went, even brought them with him on the quinjet to read on the way to missions. Eventually everyone learned to not talk to him when he was reading, he was either completely dead to the world while reading, or he would give you the most “Winter Soldier”-esque glare that even intimidated Thor, the most oblivious of the Avengers. It frustrated him sometimes, that no one in the compound shared his love of books, so he often found himself in the local bookstore, seated at a table, finally able to read in peace. That’s where he met her. This story is a little ridiculous and if you ever ask Bucky about it, he’ll flush bright red and scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment. But, to tell this story properly, and further mortify Bucky, we have to start at the beginning.

Bucky was browsing the bookstore, one rainy day in December when he first saw her. She was seated at his usual table, immersed in a book. He quickly picked a book and strode over to her, clearing his throat in an attempt to get her attention. “May I join you?” he asked, confused when she gave no indication of having heard him. “Excuse me?” he said, tapping the table. This seemed to catch her attention as she jumped and looked up at him. “May I sit?” he asked again, smiling warmly at her. She said nothing but nodded, a light smile forming on her face. He sat and opened his book, starting reading as she returned to the words in her own book. Bucky couldn’t help but watch her as she read, studying her face and how her mouth moved slightly as she read. When her eyes flicked up to meet his, he quickly looked back down at his book and pretended to read as she studied him back, eventually going back to reading her book. She left first, giving him a smile and a small wave, still no words leaving her mouth.

The next time Bucky went to the bookstore, she was there again, still sitting at his table. He didn’t ask this time, just sat down with his newest book in hand. “Hello.” he said as soon as her eyes met his. She smiled and waved, confusing Bucky. She couldn’t even say hi? He glanced down at the book she was reading and noticed it was the book he had been reading last time. “That’s a great book, have you read it before?” he asked, watching her brows furrow for a second before she shook her head. “I won’t spoil anything for you then.” he smiled crookedly and she giggled lightly and went back to reading.

Her behavior confused the hell out of Bucky, she obviously understood him and responded properly to what Bucky said, but she never said anything. She left before him again, departing in the same way she had before. The two of them continued to see each other at the bookstore and Bucky always tried to converse with her, but she always responded non-verbally, even when he asked her for her name, she had written it down and slid the piece of paper across the table to him. Y/N. The name constantly occupied his thoughts and he found himself developing a small crush on the mysterious woman, still constantly confused by her weird way of communicating.

He eventually found himself asking Steve what to do, as he probably had more experience with people by this point. “She can obviously tell what I’m saying, but she never responds, just nods or smiles, or even writes down the answer. I don’t get it.” he was pacing while he talked, running his hands through his already messy hair. Steve thought for a moment before responding. “Maybe she’s shy. She may just feel more comfortable not responding out loud. Or she has a stutter. You should just ask her.” he said simply. “Okay, yeah, ask her, I can do that.” Bucky said, thanking Steve before he walked out of the compound and walked the few miles to the bookstore.

He looked over the shelves for another book before taking a deep breath and looking over at the table where he saw her seated. He took another moment to gather his courage, but when he started to make his way over to her, he made a shocking discovery. There she was, signing back and forth with one of his friends that worked there, Sam. His jaw dropped as everything clicked into place. She was deaf. That was why she never answered verbally. Once Sam had walked away, he made his way over to her.

When she saw him, she smiled happily and waved at him. He set his book down on the table and signed Are you deaf? She smiled and nodded. Bucky felt like the biggest idiot in this moment, a sense of dread filling his chest. I am so so so sorry! I feel like such an idiot. He signed, hearing a small giggle escape her. It’s alright, it’s a good thing I’m good at reading lips. I didn’t think you’d know ASL, that’s why I didn’t tell you. She signed back, seemingly not bothered by Bucky’s obliviousness. I can’t apologize enough, can I make it up to you? He asked. What do you have in mind? She signed back, a hopeful expression on her face.

Maybe I could take you out sometime? To dinner? Bucky offered, heart pounding in his chest. I’d love that. May I know your name? She asked and Bucky mentally facepalmed. God, I’m a mess. I’m Bucky, Bucky Barnes. He introduced himself. Her face morphed into surprise as she recognized the name. THE Bucky Barnes? Like Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes? She signed excitedly. Yeah, that’s me. Is that a problem? He asked, hoping he hadn’t deterred her.

No, not at all! You’re just different than how they make you out in the press. She reassured him. Can I pick you up here tomorrow around 6? He suggested, not wanting to wait to get to know her. That sounds perfect. She replied, smiling widely still. Bucky felt relief flood through him, finally sitting down and picking up his book. The two of them read in serene silence, both thinking of their date, neither of them able to concentrate on their books. When they parted, Bucky signed a quick goodbye before daring to walk around the table and embrace her in a quick hug, which she gladly returned. He avoided touching her with his left arm though, just as he did with most people.

The next day, his heart was racing and his flesh hand was clammy and shaking. He hadn’t remembered ever being this nervous going out with a girl. He left the compound around 5, hoping the walk to the bookstore would help calm his nerves. Along the way, he picked a daisy, thinking of how cute it would look tucked behind her ear. He arrived at the bookstore at six-o’clock precisely, taking a deep breath before entering, eyes sweeping over to where she sat, engrossed in another book. He willed his heart to stop pounding so hard, then walked over to their usual table. He knew she’s like him, completely oblivious to everything going on around her while reading, so got her attention the best way he knew how. He tapped the table a few times, knowing the vibrations would break her away from her book.

She jumped slightly and looked up, her mouth curling into an excited smile when she recognized him. He silently handed her the daisy, suddenly flushed in embarrassment when she looked at him quizzically. I saw it on the way here and it made me think of you. He explained before gently taking it from her hand and tucking it behind her ear. She blushed and looked down, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Bucky hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up so she would look at him. You are extremely beautiful, Y/N. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. He told her, her cheeks flushing even darker at his compliment. Thank you, Bucky. I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me. She admitted, a shy smile on her face. Bucky felt a pang of hurt stab him in the chest at her words. No one had told her she was beautiful? He had to make sure to tell her every day he saw her now.

Are you ready, doll? He signed, holding his flesh hand out to her. She nodded and took his hand, standing up. She returned her book to her bag and looked up at him, eyes filled with adoration. It took Bucky’s breath away to see the way she looked at him, it was unmistakable, her eyes were so expressive. He smiled back at her, a smile that made his eyes crinkle in the corners and his nose scrunch up slightly. They left the store arm in arm, beginning the short journey to the restaurant Bucky had decided on for their date. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but were you born deaf? Bucky asked after unlinking his arm from hers and turning a little so she could understand him better. I don’t mind, Buck. Yes, I was born deaf. May I ask how you know ASL? She asked and he faltered for a moment.

When I was with Hydra, they wouldn’t let me speak, plus I always wore a mask to avoid being recognized. They taught me ASL so I could communicate without speaking. He revealed, avoiding her eyes. She didn’t sign back, just gave him an understanding smile and linked her pinky with his. He looked up quickly at her, then down at their joined hands, a warmth spreading through his chest at the small gesture. The two continued to walk in silence the rest of the way there. They arrived at the small restaurant, Bucky opening the door for Y/N, making her sign ‘thank you’ with a small smile. “Reservation for Barnes.” he said to the host, right hand resting on the small of Y/N’s back in order to keep contact with her. A waiter then walked over and led them to their seat, making small talk with Bucky as they walked.

I hope this is okay. I know it can be a bit uncomfortable in public sometimes. Bucky signed as soon as they were seated. It’s perfect, Bucky. I hope you don’t mind ordering for me? She said, letting out a small laugh. I don’t mind at all. I’ll translate for you too so you don’t have to read lips. He offered. You’re the best. She signed, a small sigh escaping her. He just blushed slightly at her compliment. The waiter came back a few minutes later, asking about drinks. “I’ll have a water.” Bucky said, turning his attention to Y/N, about to ask her what she’d like to drink when the waiter beat him to it. “And for you, ma’am?” he asked, making her shift uncomfortably and look at Bucky.

“She’s deaf.” Bucky deadpanned, watching the horror spread across the young man’s face. “I’m so sorry! Can you tell her I’m sorry?” he asked Bucky. He apologizes. He didn’t realize you’re deaf. What do you want to drink, doll? Bucky signed, seeing her lips turn up into a smile. Tell him it’s okay. I would like a water, please. She signed back, smiling up at the waiter, letting him know she wasn’t offended. “She says it’s alright, and she’d like a water as well.” Bucky said, the waiter, Carter, Bucky read on his name tag, nodding and smiling apologetically at Y/N again and walk away. Bucky and Y/N conversed while they waited for drinks, eventually falling into a comfortable silence.

When Carter returned to take their food orders, he was very polite, even specifically addressed Y/N when asking her questions instead of always looking to Bucky, which Y/N expressed that she was grateful for. I hate when people talk only to my translator as if I’m not even there. She had said, thanking the waiter who seemed to understand the sign, smiling brightly. While they waited for their food, Bucky fidgeted with the glove on his left hand, watching as her eyes, examined the glove. Why do you wear that? She asked, nodding at his hand.

Don’t like the attention it brings. It makes people uncomfortable. He said, rubbing over the smooth leather. Are you ashamed of your arm? She asked, brows furrowing. Bucky nodded slightly and looked down. He felt the pressure of her hand being laid over his left hand and he flinched, seeing her smaller hand laid over his. Bucky, don’t be ashamed of it. It’s a part of you, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of. When I was little, I was ashamed of my disability because it made me different. It made life hard and it brought some hard times, but I learned to accept that it’s a part of me. Never be ashamed of any part of you, even your past. She said, reluctantly removing her hand from it’s place over his.

Bucky felt tears sting at his eyes, making him blink rapidly, swiping roughly at a stray tear that escaped. May I? She signed before reaching for his gloved hand again and gently tugging at the leather. Bucky nodded hesitantly, eyes locked on the table as she removed the offending leather. He heard a small gasp escape her parted lips and he looked up to see her face contorted in curiosity. He distantly felt her fingers dancing over the metal plates, the updated pressure sensors allowing him some semblance of touch.

He kept still, allowing her to explore his hand, even letting her move his fingers around. When she finally met his eyes, he could see the absolute wonder on her face. This is nothing to be ashamed of, Bucky. It is beautiful and complicated, and I think it’s wonderful. She told him, making him let out a watery laugh. You’re too good for me, doll. He signed, noticing a lot more people watching now that the light was catching on the shiny metal. Lies. She said simply with a sly smile before the waiter came with their food.

While they ate, they snuck glances at each other, feeling like two giddy teenagers in love, smiling to themselves when they were caught. When they finished dining, Bucky quickly swiped up the bill, wiggling his eyebrows at her when she let out an unconscious noise of protest. He finished paying and offered his arm out for her, making her smile and loop her arm around his. They left the restaurant and Bucky walked her back to her house, scratching his neck awkwardly when they reached her door. She could see the question swimming in his eyes, so she leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips.

Bucky grasped her hips gently and pressed his lips back against hers, her arms winding around his neck. When they pulled apart, they just looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. Bucky reluctantly unwound his arms from her, but pressed another kiss to her forehead to make up for it. I had a wonderful time tonight, Y/N. I really like you, I have since I first laid eyes on you. I was hoping you’d do me the honor of being my girl? He asked, watching her face light up as she realized what he was saying. I’d love to Bucky. She couldn’t stop smiling, looking down at her feet shyly. I’ll see you soon, doll. He signed. Text me when you get back, yeah? She asked, handing him a little slip of paper with her number on it. I will. Bucky left with a quick kiss, waiting to make sure she was safely inside before turning and starting on his way home.

Bucky, are you sure they’re gonna like me? She signed, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Bucky sighed and huffed a small laugh. Doll, they’re going to absolutely adore you. He reassured her. The two have been dating 2 months now, and Bucky wanted to finally introduce her to the team. Okay, I’m ready. She breathed out a deep sigh. Bucky smiled widely and finally opened the door to the compound for her. The two of them had been standing outside for half an hour, Y/N freezing like a deer in the headlights when they reached the steel doors. It had taken a little bit of convincing, but she was finally ready. Bucky led her through the halls to the common room where Bucky had told the team to wait, a reassuring hand resting on the small of her back.

The team looked over all at once when they heard the footsteps approaching. “Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” Bucky said, signing as well so Y/N could tell what he was saying. Everyone waved, Y/N’s face flushed with the amount of attention that was on her. Bucky introduced her to each of the members individually, then led her to sit on one of the couches with him. “So, Y/N, how did you and Barnes meet?” Natasha asked, Y/N’s eyes flicking to Bucky as he translated, blushing slightly at the memory of their meeting. We met at our favorite bookstore. She signed, Bucky translating. Steve shot Bucky a knowing look when both of them left out the crucial detail that when they had first met, Bucky didn’t realize she was deaf.

“Hey, didn’t you-” Steve began, making Bucky’s eyes widen as he realized what his best friend was about to reveal. “Watch it, punk.” Bucky threatened, still constantly signing so Y/N could keep up with the conversation even if she could read lips. She giggled and buried her face in Bucky’s neck as she too realized where Steve was going. “No, I wanna hear this.” Tony smirked, Bucky grumbling at the shit eating grin Steve gave him. “Get this-” Steve started again. “Steve.” Bucky warned again. “When he first met her-” Steve ignored Bucky’s threats. “He didn’t realize she was deaf! He talked to her all the time, but never put it together that she was deaf.” by this point Steve was wheezing in laughter, even Y/N was giggling quietly at the mortified look on his face. “Way to read between the lines, Buck.” Steve teased.

“That’s it.” Bucky growled, lunging across the living room to pull Steve into a headlock, the entire living room bursting out in laughter as the two super soldiers grappled on the ground. Bucky ended up winning, getting Steve to tap out after putting him in a submission hold, then finally returning to the couch next to his girlfriend, the most adoring look on her face, even after watching him roughhouse with his best friend. I love you. She signed, catching Bucky off guard. A broad smile broke out on his face, I love you too, doll. So much. She smiled back at him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and hiding her face in his neck. Bucky wrapped his arms around her, gaze falling on his metal arm.

Maybe the both of them weren’t conventionally perfect, but they loved each other, and that’s all that mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything List: @rick-morty-reblogs @myattemptatfanfic @feelmyroarrrr @jadalecki-jackles

Reading Between The Lines List: @sorryimacrapwriter @moderapoppins

#Bucky Barnes #James Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Barnes #The Winter Soldier #Deaf!Reader #Reader Insert #bucky x reader fluff #Bucky Imagine #Steve Rogers #natasha romanoff #Tony Stark #Bookstore #frankieswriting #fxnfiction-by-frxnkie #Marvel #bucky barnes au

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spookyjuicefiction · 6 years

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Serendipitous - Chapter 21

MASTER LIST

BUCKY BARNES X READER

Warnings: fighting stuff, mentions of death I guess? Angst, swearing

_____________________________________

“Can you move your seat up?”

Bucky was scowling at the back of Sam’s head, fidgeting restlessly in the cramped back seat of the tiny blue jalopy. I couldn’t help but smirk with a little amusement at Bucky’s evident childish jealousy of the friendship between Sam and Steve. Placing a comforting hand on his thigh, I tried to ease the tension, saying, “I fail to see how this car says, ‘inconspicuous’. Can’t say I’ve ever seen this particular model in my grocery store parking lot.” Sam snorted, but Bucky only crossed his arms with a huff and continued his brooding.

“Damn!” Sam exclaimed suddenly and we all looked up through the windshield to see Steve and Sharon sharing a quick but steamy kiss. When she pulled away to get back in her car, Steve turned toward us looking pretty pleased with himself, and we all chuckled and gave him a thumbs up.

The humor did not last long, though, and soon we were all frowning in silence as we drove through the city to reach the airport where a quinjet was waiting to take us to Siberia. Steve had called in a few other super-friends to help, whom we were meeting near the hangar. I sat wringing my hands as we drove, wondering what the hell my part in all of this was. What help was I going to be in a fight - especially a fight between powered people? Braun against braun: that was foreign territory to me. But what about brain?

I considered everything I knew about Bucky, about Siberia, and about the mysterious doctor who had gone to great lengths to find the words to set Bucky off as the Winter Soldier, and I tried to apply criminal psychology to the situation. The whole thing was… odd, to say the least. Unconventional, and risky. Did the doctor really put all of his faith in the fact that Bucky was strong enough--and broken enough--to kill all of the Avengers? Was he only using him for the information about the other soldiers kept in Siberia? What is the motivation here?

Steve eased the car into a vacant parking spot next to a white van in the airport parking garage. Looking around cautiously for signs of the Task Force, we climbed out and the guys gathered up their gear from the trunk while the rest of the team--Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, and Scott Lang-- got out of the white van and were introduced. Bucky and I stood off to the side while the others shook hands and bantered, clearly the odd ones out in this situation.

“We need to get moving,” he murmured to me irritably. His forehead was creased with worry and stress, and I gently brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes and leaned into him for comfort. Mine or his, I wasn’t sure.

“Listen,” he said, gently taking hold of my shoulders and locking his eyes with mine, “I don’t want you to come with us, but Steve is concerned about what the Task Force will do to you if they think you’re associated with me.” He winced as he said it, as if it pained him to know that I was in danger because of him any way you sliced it. “When we get to Siberia, you stay on the jet. And if anything happens, I want you to get the fuck out of there. If any of them escape and try to come after you, you leave. You leave me there. Do you understand?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but desperation and guilt in his eyes took the fight out of me.

“Okay,” I whispered, knowing it was a lie, but telling it to him anyway. How could I ever leave him behind now?

He wrapped his arms around me, crushing me into his chest, blocking out the others, the airport, the rest of the world. “Whatever happens,” he said into my ear, “know that you saved my life. And that I love you, so much.”

Before I could respond, Steve called, “Suit up, it’s time to go!” and we were forced to get moving. Steve, tipped off by Clint and Wanda that Tony Stark intended to head us off, had devised a plan to split up. Bucky was paired off with Sam, and he wrapped a protective arm around me, indicating that he would not be allowing me out of his sight. The three of us set off, sneaking around the wide arc of the parking garage towards the other side of the tarmac where the quinjet was waiting.

My heart was racing in my chest as I heard the first sounds of fighting ensuing from the tarmac several stories below, the loudest being the unmistakable sound of Iron Man powering up his weaponized arms. Fear gripped me as Sam and Bucky broke into a run and I put my head down, trying to keep up. We had made it nearly halfway around the circle when I heard Bucky cry out incredulously,

“What the hell is that?”

A yelp escaped my throat as a compact man in a red and blue suit broke in through the glass ceiling and knocked Sam aside with a powerful kick. Bucky commanded me to keep running as he swung his whirring metal fist around to fight the new foe, who I now saw had a logo of a spider on his suit and seemed to be shooting… web from his hands. What the actual fuck?

Skidding to a stop, I looked around frantically trying to think of some way to help as Sam and Bucky took turns trying to take down the spider guy. I gasped when I looked down into the tarmac and saw, to my horror, all of the Avengers fighting one another. This is it, I realized, horror dawning on me, This is what the doctor wanted all along. Why kill the Avengers when they can just kill each other?

My breath was knocked out of my lungs as a body suddenly slammed into me and I was lifted off my feet: Bucky had straight up grabbed me and thrown me over his shoulder, panting with exertion from the fight as he ran as fast as he could toward the hangar. I looked around wildly, seeing the blur of the red suit swinging back and forth above me as the spider guy caught up to us.

“Bucky!” I cried out as the figure drew near and held an arm out to shoot; with a grunt, Bucky dodge-rolled just in time for me to see the viscous webbing fly past my face. In a fluid movement Bucky dumped me on the ground behind a pole and ripped the hood off of a car parked nearby, whirling around and flinging it at the spider with all of his strength. I pulled myself shakily but quickly to my feet, reaching for his outstretched hand and locking our panicked eyes for a brief moment before we heard a teasing, teenager-like voice:

“Hey, buddy, I think you lost this!”

The pole exploded as the car hood collided with it over our heads and Bucky yanked me again into a run. I couldn’t catch my breath and was losing my footing, unable to keep up with his super-soldier speed, and the next thing I knew, I hit the ground, hard. Rolling a few paces I landed on my back but when I tried to get up, me entire body was shackled to the concrete ground in a cocoon of webbing. Swearing to myself, I had no choice but to lay there listening to the fight ensuing on the floor below me, all the while panicking at my revelation about the fake doctor’s plan. I need to tell Steve, and Stark too! We have to call this off, or he’s going to win!

At length, I heard footsteps and then Bucky crouched over me, panting and wiping a trickle of blood off of his forehead.

“Get me out of this,” I said tersely, “quick, we need to move!”

But Bucky didn’t move. I looked at me for a long moment, pain and sadness and regret in his eyes, before reaching out his flesh hand and gently smoothing the sweaty hair off of my forehead.

“What are you doing?!” Panic hitched my voice up an octave and I struggled with my bonds, trying to break free so that I could touch him, run with him off into the unknown. But I couldn’t break free, and Bucky did not help me.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But you’ll be safer here than in Siberia. Tell them I kidnapped you and held you hostage. Tell them whatever they want to hear so that they know you’re innocent in all of this. I don’t care what any of them think I am. All that matters is that you truly knew me, the real me. Not the Winter Soldier. As long as I know that, I’m happy to go and die where I should’ve died long ago. I’m so sorry for everything. I love you.”

He stood up and turned away, heading down the ramp towards the tarmac, ignoring my screams of agony and my helpless tears, to fight his way to his death.

TAG LIST: @captain-chimichanga @allseasonssoldier @watchoutforfrostbite @wtfholland

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thorne93 · 6 years

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Inexplicable Fate (Part 4)

Prompt: When a blinding pain overtakes you at work, what will be in store for your life when you run into the Winchesters and learn Lucifer’s son is about to be born?

Warning: Language, pain, angst, violence, fighting (verbal and physical)…fear of insanity??

Word Count: 2186

Notes: This is for @roxyspearing gif challenge. This is like a slow burn?? Idk. It’s a Jack x Reader fic (so Season 12 and 13 spoilers…) It’s LONG. So buckle in. It is slow-ish at first. But things will build to a head…Promise ;P

Beta’d by the ever fabulous @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno@rda1989 @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername@kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaeling @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo

IF Tags: @iamafishandigosplish @myfamilysincarolina @ilovemyangelforever @kazuha159 @bisexualdolphinthings @mysteriouslydeliciouswerewolf @justiceiswater

Dean Winchester: @akshi8278 @mogaruke

Sam Winchester: @mogaruke @lenawiinchester

Castiel: @lenawiinchester

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, the boys were already up and ready for the day. You brewed some coffee and made them breakfast, seeing as you were starving as well. While the three of you ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, a knock came at the door.

“That should be Cas,” Sam informed as he got up from the breakfast table to let him in.

He opened your front door, but from your position in the kitchen, you couldn’t see the man they claimed was an angel. A large part of you, the rational, logical part, didn’t believe any of this. You were hallucinating, you were still at the hospital, or your voices had taken a turn for the worst...but there had to be an explanation. With skepticism in your heart, you felt you needed them to prove without a shadow of a doubt that this Castiel was in fact some sort of all powerful being.

“She’s right in here,” Sam informed as he came around the corner, gesturing to you. In tow, a man in a khaki trench coat, black suit pants, and a white button down behind him. He was...handsome. He was just as handsome as the other three. But there were no wings, no halo, no glowing light, no Heavenly look about him. He looked like a normal man…

Dean got up and hugged his friend, who returned the gesture before they turned their sole attention on you.

“So what do you think Cas?” Dean asked. “Is Y/N here coocoo for cocoa puffs or is she something else?”

Castiel frowned, tilting his head slightly before walking over to you, narrowing his gaze as he lowered himself to look you in the eyes.

“I can’t be for sure...She looks human enough. I’ll have to touch her soul,” he stated.

“You what?” you asked, peering at him.

“Your soul, I need to touch it,” he repeated.

“No, I got that but….Can we just slow down here? How do I even know this is legit?” you asked. “I mean, so far, all I’ve had to go on is some pretty elaborate stories, but no concrete evidence. So I think before this goes any further, I’d like to confirm that you’re a real angel,” you demanded, wondering how you sounded so sane...so...calm about telling someone to show you they're an angel.

“What would you like me to show you?” Castiel asked, a kindness in his voice.

“I don’t know. What...can you do? I mean, what can you show me?”

Castiel thought for a moment before walking over to your butchers block, pulling out a knife, and without much warning, jabbed it into his chest. The action made you jump back and gasp loudly.

“What is he--What are you doing?!” you demanded, your voice loud and shrill.

He pulled the knife out and opened his coat. “See? No wound. I can only be killed or hurt with a special blade.”

Slowly, you nodded, taking a few steps closer to him, examining the area for yourself. The coat, the shirt, both ripped, but underneath there wasn’t even a dot of blood. The knife wasn’t a trick knife because he pulled it from your kitchen.

But it still didn’t seem like enough. Illusionists did things like this all the time. So you thought. What could be something that would prove his powers or ability without question.

“Sam and Dean said you can heal people. Can you still do that?” you wondered, knowing they had explained after Castiel had fallen he had lost some of his abilities.

“Yes. I might not be able ot bring you back from the dead, but I can heal most wounds,” he informed, stoic and monotone.

You nodded, picking up the same steak knife he’d just used on himself, taking a deep breath. This was crazy, absolutely crazy, but you needed answers and you needed to be sure this was real.

Taking the blade, you dug it into your hand as deep as you could bear without just utterly screaming out, but at least making a deeper cut than a paper cut. After a moment, blood starting to spill out from the severed flesh.

“There. Can you heal that?” you asked, holding your hand out.

Castiel said nothing, he simply held your wrist in one hand, and put his hand on top of yours, a gold light and warmth coming from your palm. Within two seconds, he let go, and let you examine your hand. It looked as if you’d never even touched it. It felt great, no stinging, no pain.

Your eyes went back and forth from your palm to the man before you, and back again, over and over as disbelief washed through you and you stumbled backwards. HEaring the stories from Dean and Sam was one thing. Meeting a being who...an angel. An angel was standing in your kitchen. This meant...everything you’d ever believed in was real. God. Hell. Heaven. Angels. Demons. Satan...All of it, true….Walking amongst everyone.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam asked as he reached out for you from the other side of the table.

“I...I...I just... I need a moment,” you said as you turned to walk out to your backyard.

“She appears to have nausea, dizziness, and confusion,” Cas informed as you started to walk by him. Frowning, you looked at him and shook your head as you escaped the madness inside your house.

This couldn't be real. It was fun to pretend. It was neat to think that all of this was really real. But now...it wasn’t what you thought it would feel like. Knowing angels existed, it meant that demons existed. Knowing God existed, it meant Satan existed, and now he had some demon child about to be born into the world, wreaking Lord knows what havoc.

You’d always thought that when you learned the Divine truly did exist, it would feel joyous, happy...but now, every light must have a dark. Every evil have a good. So where there were good people, there were bad….A Heaven meant a Hell…

Not to mention all the monsters Sam and Dean had told you about. They sounded like bad dreams, nightmares come to life, something from a wicked movie...And of course, they sounded unbelievable. But now...now it meant they were real, that innocent people died from monsters everyday, all over the world. It meant that at any moment, they could kill you. Life as you knew it was...different.

You heard a door close behind you and you knew it was one of the guys coming to check on you, most likely Sam, as he seemed to be the sensitive one in the group. But when Dean appeared beside you, it surprised you.

“You okay?” he asked, staring straight ahead, and again that inkling of a feeling that he didn’t do well with emotions came bubbling up.

“Yeah. I just...I needed a minute…” you said in a soft voice. “I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I probably seem like a total idiot. I’m telling you I hear voices and I’m having a mental breakdown from meeting an angel. I’m sure you think I’m sort of backwards.”

He shrugged. “Like I said before, you were a little too chill about the whole thing. Some people need to see it to believe it, and you’re probably like that,” he informed.

“I suppose so. I felt you and Sam were telling the truth. There was just too much that was too detailed for you two to be making up or to be crazy...But to actually...to actually see him stab himself and then heal me…” You wanted to go on, but for some inexplicable reason, you wanted to cry. Probably because you were beyond your wits end. You had no idea what to think of feel right now.

“Believe me, I get it. I’ve been in this...business a long time. Since we were little, and I never cease to get the shit shocked out of me. Hell I thought I’d seen it all with my Dad. Disgruntled spirits, a few demons, run of the mill stuff. But then...well, we met a reaper, we met Leviathans, we met God. Let me tell you, that was a doozy. I mean, you keep thinking ‘This is it. This is as big and as bad as it gets.’ But then something comes along and just kicks you in the balls and teeth and...and it’s hard to accept it. So I don’t expect someone who’s never seen anything weirder than a computer virus to take this all without some sort of meltdown.”

A smile pulled at the corner of your mouth at his comment.

“I just thought...I thought learning of God and Heaven and angels would be a good thing. You know? I always thought that if I ever had an experience or when I died or whatever...I always thought I would be thrilled. I mean, who wouldn’t be? You’re learning life’s great mysteries. But now…”

“Now all you see is the evil?” he finished, turning to look at you with a stone face.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah...But that’s part of who I am. I’ve always been cautious, scared, worried. I mean, as a kid, I was always afraid of strangers, thinking they would kidnap me. As an adult, I don’t go into dark alleys, I don’t get into my car until I’ve looked in the back. And nothing’s happened to me to make me paranoid like that...It was just always part of me...So now, I learn all of the good stuff is real, my mind can’t help but go to the bad too. Great, so there’s angels, does that mean my neighbor is a demon? God exists? Great, but now Lucifer has a little bundle of Hell on the way, trying to get him ready for...whatever...It’s just not the fairytale I always imagined, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do. I also know...it won’t get better,” he said, wisdom in his tone. “I’m not gonna sit here and lie to you and tell you that you shouldn’t see it that way, or there’s more good in this world or any of that hippie junk. Because there’s not. Good might win, most of the time, but it comes with a hefty price. It’s never easy.”

He stopped, and your eyes cast down to the grass on your yard as you nodded.

“Now, you also don’t have to go through with this. It’s up to you, and knowing what you know. No one’s gonna force you to go through this. I will say, whenever we head back in there, my friend Cas is gonna search your soul. He’s going to put his arm in your chest and touch and feel your very soul to see what’s going on with you. Now, I don’t know what he's going to find. Maybe you’re psychic, maybe you’re just crazy...Maybe it’s nothin’ at all and he can heal you. But once you find out, we’re gonna have to make a choice. To either go down the rabbit hole if it’s some sort of freaky power and embrace it, which means this life we live will be your life. Or you can take the knowledge and just live with it. You can take what Cas tells you and move on with your life and forget we ever met. But just so you know, once you’re in this life, you can’t get out, and it’s not easy.”

“From what you and Sam told me, it doesn't sound easy, any of it. Losing your dad or getting your mom back, losing friends and family….You two have lived a harder life than anyone should,” you remarked softly. “I don’t know what I’ll do, to be honest. I guess it all depends on what he tells me, but thank you for telling me. You’re a good man, Dean Winchester,” you noted with a smile.

“I’m just a guy who saves people and hunts bad shit for a living,” he said with a shrug.

“You’re so much more than that, and the fact that you either don’t see it, or won’t admit it, means I’m right,” you said before kissing his cheek and walking back inside.

Castiel and Sam were sitting and talking at the table, their chatter slowing and quieting when you approached them.

“Okay, I’m ready. I want to find out what’s going on inside my head,” you stated.

“Very well,” Castiel said as he stood.

“Can we go somewhere private?” you asked, not comfortable doing this in front of the boys, or your kitchen. For some reason, you just really wanted the comfort of your own bedroom, surrounded by all the things you loved.

“I’ll go wherever you like,” Castiel said, bowing slightly.

You nodded, giving the boys a goodbye glance, a small smile from both of them in return as you escaped into your bedroom, the angel following you before you shut the door.

#inexplicable fate #we have a gif for that challenge #jack kline #jack kline fic #jack kline x reader #jack the nephilim #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #spn #spn fic #supernatural fic

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thedappleddragon · 3 years

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Sunday was Mother’s Day, so I spent a little time sewing my fursuit paws to kill time before getting ready to go to her house. I wanted to be there a little after 2 and buy her a plant from my work, but we didn’t leave until after 2 because my sister was slow and lost her glasses. We got her a pink petunia, and I drove there kinda weird because I’m shit at directions. We talked and had a nice time and my uncle called and my cousins said they missed Indiana which was sweet :) eventually we left so emily could do homework and study for finals, and I sewed a little more and did unspeakable atrocities and multiple war crimes and spent too much time on TikTok and played Pokémon mystery dungeon until it was time for bed.

Vaccine day!! Drank water and played a lot of Pokémon mystery dungeon until it was almost time to get ready to leave. My mom asked me to go to the gas station real quick to get her soda and chips, and I was worried that this trip would make me late for my appointment. They didn’t have the soda she wanted but I got her some chips and some Cheetos popcorn for myself. I rushed home, ran inside to give her her chips and blurt out I was running late, told Siri to take me to the Kroger on X road, and gunned it there as fast as I could. I was already late as I pulled up, but I didn’t recognize the parking lot or anything around it. Then I realized it was the wrong fucking Kroger >:( in my rush to get directions and go, I didn’t check the exact address and just tapped the first one apple maps gave me. The one I needed was half an hour down the road the opposite way I had came :( but it wasn’t all bad, as I sat in my car trying to call and ask if I could still get my shot even if I missed my appointment, a woman walked in front of me to her car and a pint of ice cream fell off her cart. I hung up the phone and got out to hand it to her. She was very grateful and said that was so nice of me and cracked a joke saying there would have been chaos in the house if she had forgotten it lol. I told her to have a nice day and went back to my car, called Kroger back, got no help other than an automated robot voice telling me to go to their website, gained my composure and typed in the exact address I had saved in a picture. I’m so mad because it would have been SUCH an easier drive if I went the right way first, it literally would have been a straight shot from my house there down one major road. But anyway I got there, they said i could still get my shot, I filled out a paper, sat down, the nurse shot me and I hardly felt it (very anticlimactic compared to last time where I worked myself up to tears. I think I already knew it wasn’t going to hurt, so I was already more relaxed so less muscle for the needle to fight), no reaction in the 15 minutes there, so I left and went to the Starbucks across the street for 2 cake pops, one for me and one for my sister. The drive home was uneventful, just a straight shot down X road pretty much. I took the opportunity to sing mlp songs in the car, both canon and fan made. Even tho I was alone and my windows were up it still felt embarrassing and wrong to sing at like a shouting volume lol. So I got home and turns out Starbucks lies about the 2 flavors they had available so my sister got cookie dough instead of birthday cake, and I got chocolate. It was really good tho, I’ll probably get one again some time. Then I hung out and played Pokémon mystery dungeon until my mom had me do a Walmart grocery pickup. I didn’t want to get out of my pajama pants so I wore them there since I didn’t have to get out of the car. Drove home, gave mom her stuff, played Pokémon mystery dungeon, slept.

One of these night I had a dream about running into a friend* who I had ghosted on Snapchat. We were in a Menards or sams club, just a large store, and I had to run around and avoid him as he chased after me, wanting to know why I never opened his text. Some girls told me it was going to be a suicide note, others told me I was horrible for ignoring him. It didn’t leave me with lasting feelings as I woke up, but I know I’m guilty about it in the back of my head. I already KNOW if I open it it’s just going to say “hi,” and talking to him is annoying, and idk why I was friends with him for so long, and I don’t want to keep in contact with him, but he’s a sad shitty boy and I feel bad for him but I don’t want to take responsibility for him or try to make him feel better or whatever. But some good news is that Snapchat is no longer giving me a notification about it, since it’s been 4 weeks now. I just don’t want to think about it anymore. I’ve been asking Siri to flip a coin when I see the notification, waiting for her to flip 3 heads in a row before I open it. So far that hasn’t happened. I wish there was a way for me to open it without him seeing that I did and just not respond, but that’s not how Snapchat works :/ whatever. I had another dream the next night where I became severely depressed and daughter out things to make me feel worse, and when I woke up I just thought it was funny. As soon as I was conscious enough to realize I was asleep in my bed, I felt better, which is what made it so funny. Idk.

And as for today! I was fully prepared for vaccine side effects to hit me like a train today, but I woke up feeling completely fine, even after sleeping on the shoulder I got shot in. Obviously there was a little residual upper arm soreness and stiffness, but other than that, nothing. I texted my friend how her side effects were, and she said it was bad when she woke up but after like 3 hours she was fine. I had asked my work for a day off so I could rest, but since I wasn’t feeling anything, I told the garden center boss I was available today to work. So I played Pokémon mystery dungeon until I had to get ready and leave, but the car I was supposed to take was doing it’s rumbly engine thing again, so my dad revved the engine really hard for a bit until it fixed itself. Work was pretty uneventful, just shuffling plants forever. I did get a new vest, tho. ACTUALLY ONE REALLY FUNNY THING DIS HAPPEN TODAY. My coworker and I were moving hanging planters when we saw 2 birds on the ground fucking each other. She thought they were fighting at first, and it was really damn funny. After work I went to Hardee’s to use my coupon, but apparently they discontinued their normal chicken sandwich?? So instead I got 2 chicken clubs for my sister and I and the drive through lady gave me 2 buy one get one free coupons for when their new breaded chicken sandwich comes out. I thought the club was just ok, but my sister took 3 bites and decided she didn’t want it. I had a couple bites of hers, but gave the rest to my dad when he got home. Oh also he deposited my paycheck into my bank account for me :) he also brought home sushi and these flavored pretzels that are really good but I always end up eating too many 😔 so I played Pokémon mystery dungeon for the rest of the night, eating my sushi and some pretzels somewhere in the middle of it. And now I’m typing this up, but my hips and elbows hurt :( I think my hip pain is from standing and walking back and forth and bending over so much at work, and the elbow pain from holding my arms in the same position playing Pokémon mystery dungeon so much in the past week. I think I’ll just pop an Advil and sleep it off.

Worked 1-5 today

#may 2021 daily #2021 daily

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ships-sailing-in-the-night · 7 years

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LUCIFER: Showrunner Joe Henderson on Season 3

There are some big changes afoot in LUCIFER’s third season when the show returns to Fox on Monday nights, beginning October 2. At the end of Season 2, Lucifer Morningstar (Tom Ellis) – who is actually the Devil, though a very honest individual – almost got together with his true love, LAPD detective Chloe Decker (Lauren German). Then someone bonked him over the head and he woke up naked in the desert, with his angel wings reattached, even though he’d previously cut them off and burned them.

Meanwhile, Lucifer’s mother (Tricia Helfer) has moved on to her own dimension to create new worlds, as befits a goddess. However, the body she inhabited, defense lawyer Charlotte Richards, is still with us. Tom Welling joins the cast this season as police lieutenant Marcus Pierce. Behind the scenes, LUCIFER has moved from shooting primarily in Vancouver to shooting entirely in Los Angeles, where the series is set.

Tom Kapinos adapted LUCIFER from the comic book series by Mike Dringenberg and Sam Kieth, which itself is a spinoff of Neil Gaiman’s SANDMAN graphic novels. Executive producer Joe Henderson, who with fellow e.p. Ildy Modrovich is LUCIFER’s showrunner, previews what’s in store for the series’ angels, demons and ordinary mortals. (x)

When you did the Season 2 finale with that final sequence of Lucifer waking in the desert to find that he had wings again, did you know that you were getting picked up, or was that just going to be this amazing metaphor if it ended there?

At that point, we felt very comfortable that we were getting picked up. When Fox tells you, “Feel free to do a cliffhanger,” you feel very comfortable doing so. But also, what I personally believe in is, every season, you wrap up that season and then leave a tease of what’s to come. I always plan on success. A big part of it was, all right, we want to wrap up the Mom story, we want to give it an ending, and then we want a tease of what’s to come. And we knew we’d be getting to a whole exploration of identity, and we just wanted to make the big swing that would force everyone to come back.

Now that Lucifer has his wings back, what is he going to do about them?

All I’m going to say is, if you give Lucifer wings and tell him he’s an angel, he’s going to run in the other direction. You tell the Devil he’s good, he’s going to show you how bad he is, and that’s what this season is about. The Devil is back.

Are the wings detachable?

That is a big question we will ask early on. And/or does Lucifer want to cut them off yet again? He’s got them off before – what’s going to stop him now? Or will he just slice them off again in spite?

Lucifer’s angel brother Amenadiel, played by D.B. Woodside, has lost his wings, but when he had them, they weren’t always in evidence. So how does this work?

So our angel rules are, there in your back, but they’ll come out when you expose them. They’re hidden until you want them to come forth.

You’ve had some scenes where you were clearly in recognizable Los Angeles locations, but until now, you were mainly shooting in Vancouver. What’s happening with Season 3?

We are now entirely relocated in Los Angeles. The first two years, we shot in Vancouver, with splinter units in L.A. And now we are shooting entirely in Los Angeles. Our Vancouver crew was amazing, they did amazing work making Vancouver look like L.A. But it’s so much fun being able to shoot Los Angeles for itself and making it a character on the show, it’s been incredible. To shoot on the Warner Brothers lot – I’ve never shot on a lot before – it’s an incredible experience to actually be home.

Tricia Helfer is still a season regular, even though Lucifer and Amenadiel’s Mom has gone off to create her own universe. Does Mom return?

[The character of] Charlotte Richards is still on the show. And Charlotte Richards is very confused because she died, and suddenly woke up again, and time had passed, and it appears someone has been walking around, pretending to be her. So what we get is a wonderful opportunity to explore a character who is suddenly wondering what happened to her life, and who was this person living it, and where was she while she was dead? And part of the mystery is, was she in Heaven, was she in Hell, was she somewhere else? And that’s a question she’ll be asking herself when we finally see her again.

Was it tricky to figure out how to keep her character interwoven with everybody else?

Honestly, we had written a one-season arc for Tricia Helfer. And then we got Tricia Helfer. And the problem is, when you have Tricia Helfer, you don’t want to let go of her because she is so good. And so as we got towards the end of the season, we started talking, we just started breaking stories, and started coming up with so many ideas of what to do with her character, and what to do with such a talented actress. And honestly, it was one of those situations where we loved the character, we loved the actress so much, that we kept building stories, and a lot of it came from that. The story of Mom ended, but the story of Charlotte Richards suddenly came to life.

There was an episode where Timothy Omundson played a man who might or might not have been channeling Dad, aka God. At least, Mom seemed to think he was. Are we ever going to find out if that really was Dad or not?

For one thing, Timothy Omundson was quite possibly the greatest guest star we ever had. We adore him. He’s recovering right now – he had a stroke recently and he’s been detailing it on Twitter in a very brave, open way, and it’s awesome. We’ve never had a guest actor come in for one episode and make such an impact on us. He’s part of the family, even though he’s only in one episode. So we would love to explore that again. Part of the question is when he becomes available again. He’s currently recovering. We are there for him, we are wishing him the best. He will recover. I am hoping when he does, he wants to come back, because we love him and he had a great experience, but honestly, what we’ll do is, we’ll work around him, and that’s a testament to his skill. He took such ownership of the role in a way that few actors can.

So if that was Dad, he’s only going to manifest as the character played by Timothy Omundson?

What I would say is, that’s a guy who thought he was Dad. And whether or not he had a piece of him or not is something to explore. But Dad is bigger than a single mortal being, so the full version of that is yet to be seen.

Chloe’s ex-husband Dan, played by Kevin Alejandro, was involved with “Charlotte” last season, who he never realized was a deity, and now thinks is Lucifer and Amenadiel’s stepmother, rather than their actual mother. Where is Dan going this season?

So a big part of Dan’s arc is, despite all of the machinations, he actually kind of fell for Charlotte Richards. But then when he found her on the beach [in the Season 2 finale], she didn’t remember him at all. So where we start is, he fell for Charlotte Richards, because she is a weird, confusing woman, but she actually seemed to care for him. And now she seems to pretend that she doesn’t even know him. So a big part of it is, who is this new Charlotte Richards, is she the woman I fell in love with, and/or is she someone I can care about? So what we’re really going to do is explore what happens when the woman that you didn’t expect to fall in love with but did seems to be a whole new person.

Does this mean that Dan is over Chloe in the romantic sense?

Yes. One of the things I love is, you see the two when we broke them apart. I think towards the end, in particular, when Chloe was like, “Oh, if you [marry] Charlotte, you’ll be Lucifer’s stepdad.” It felt like they were just like, “You know what? I love you, but I love you as a friend. And not only is that okay, that’s good.” I like showing that healthy version of divorce. As someone who is a child of divorce, there are very many ways to make it healthy, and to me, the two of them have healthily decided, “I love you, not in that way anymore, but I care about you.” So what we’re going to see more and more is, “Dan, be careful with your heart. Chloe, be careful with where you go. I love you in the ‘Don’t get hurt’ sort of way,” not the, “I love you, I’m jealous” way. I love being able to depict that healthy separation.

Is Chloe and Dan’s young daughter Trixie, played by Scarlett Estevez, going to get curious about what’s going on? When the show started, she was so little that she matter-of-factly accepted that her mother knows somebody named Lucifer. But as she’s getting a little older, is she going to start to notice some odd things about Lucifer?

For one thing, Scarlett is such an amazing actress. You get kid actors, you don’t know what you’re going to get. With Scarlett, you know exactly what you’re going to get, which is a kid who knows timing and comedy and also can do heart. But when it comes to Trixie’s character, the fun of it is, she’s the disarming character who sees through the b.s. And that’s something we’re going to lean on. But like a kid, she sees the truth but also misinterprets it. What I love about Trixie’s character is, she’s actually very similar to Lucifer. She’s a child who’s oddly adult in many different ways. So as much as she’ll understand the heart of something, she won’t necessarily be able to interpret what it means, and then I think one of the reasons Lucifer is so uncomfortable around her is, children are his equal, because they are innocent, but also have more insight than you can expect.

Maze, played by Lesley-Anne Brandt, is Lucifer’s demon associate from Hell who had an affair with Amenadiel and is currently roommates with Chloe and Trixie. Maze believes that she does not have a soul. Will she have any concerns about this?

One of the big things that was important to me was teeing up how demons are different from everything else. And in Episode Three [of Season 3], which I co-wrote, one of the big things I really wanted to hit was the fact that Maze doesn’t have a soul. Because to me, it’s a fascinating idea on a couple levels. One, what does a soul even mean? Two, what happens if you don’t think you have a soul? What I love about Maze, and what we’re going to explore in our Maze-focused episode coming up this season is, if you don’t have a soul, then when you die, you’re just dead. So why not live every moment like it’s your last? And what does that say about you, what does that say about the way you live? To me, Maze knows she might die tomorrow and that’s it, no loss. And you know what? Not only is that fine, isn’t that healthy? Isn’t that better than living with the sort of dread of what’s to come? That argument, that debate of morality, of soulfulness, but also the question of, yeah, you’re living that way, but does that mean you don’t have a soul, or does that mean you just don’t know it? That’s our show. So that’s a big thing we want to explore is, do you not have a soul, or is it just easier to say you don’t?

Chloe doesn’t seem very introspective on the soul issue. Despite the fact that she has Christian trappings, she doesn’t seem overly concerned with how things will affect her immortal soul. Dan seems maybe a little more religious …

We try to make every character a different aspect of [the spiritual question]. And Chloe very definitely represents our logic side. She’s a detective – “Give me proof and I’ll believe it.” She’s not an atheist, per se, but she wants proof of things, she wants to understand things. To me, that’s the beauty of her dynamic with Lucifer. Lucifer, ironically, he’s a character derived of faith. You have to believe in him. But the irony is in front of you saying, “I exist,” but you have to believe what he’s saying. So it’s just another version of the faith versus realism debate, and Chloe very much represents the Scully side of that, if you want to use THE X-FILES.

Well, you sort of want somebody to say to Lucifer, “Look, dude, you’re telling me you’re the Devil, but let’s say you are who you say you are, you look human, and you know that humans lie. So why should I believe you?”

It’s funny, because to me, one of the things Chloe understands is Lucifer’s soul. But what I love about Chloe’s character in particular is, I think she’s got Lucifer pegged. And one of the things she knows is that he does tell the truth. Now, he says he’s the Devil, and she can’t quite square that. But when it comes to moral truths, when it comes to truth of the heart, when he says something, she believes him. And so I guess to me what’s so interesting is, she has faith in him. Amongst all these questions, the one thing she believes in is Lucifer’s character.

This interview was conducted during Fox Network’s portion of the Summer 2017 Television Critics Association (TCA) press tour. (x)

Thanks @sanoiro for find this :D

#lucifer spoilers #lucifer interview #joe henderson #tom ellis #lauren german #lesley ann brandt #rachael harris #db woodside #scarlett estevez #aimee garcia #kevin alejandro #tricia helfer #lucifer on fox

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shinobicyrus · 7 years

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Hidden Agendas

For Vengeful Babes Week Day 01: “Hidden”

So far, Danielle’s weekend comprised sleeping in too late after Friday patrol, getting prodded down in the Fenton lab by overly concerned science-parents, and wasting an entire shopping trip trying to find a way to hold Valerie’s hand without making it seem like she was trying to, y’know, hold her hand.

This was all Danny’s fault. When you boiled it down, most things were Danny’s fault. Danielle didn’t even realize it at first, until it slowly dawned on her how close Sam and him always were. When they were walking through the halls at school. When they were sitting on couch watching TV. Shoulder to shoulder, legs looped together, hands clasped.

Danielle kept staring at their hands and something just clicked. Like she’d caught a germ of an idea and couldn’t get rid of it. She opened and closed her hand, numb and tingling with a ghost sensation. Just thinking about it made her chest ache like she’d just finished a sparring session, exhilarated and flooded with chemicals that made her restless and antsy. All that from just holding hands.

...God she was pathetic, wasn’t she? Pining over an unsuspecting best friend. This was just like one of her animes, complete with white hair and unfulfilled gay subtext.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” Valerie turned her shopping cart into the next aisle. One of the wheels rattled lopsidedly.

Danielle followed, restless hands stuffed into her hoody’s pockets. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“I really should have taken care of this last night,” Valerie doubled-checked her list and scanned the shelves. “There just hasn’t been enough time to get anything done, lately.”

“Tell me about it. Like being locked in a big cement building all day was bad enough, there’s homework too? When did you and Danny even find the time to try and kill each other?”

“We managed somehow,” Valerie snagged her dad and her’s favorite brand of coffee. “Sorry to hear all that education is cutting into your valuable ‘lounging around the house all day’ time.”

“Oh sure, when other three year olds do finger painting and nap at school it’s fine but when I do it it’s all, ‘Principal Ishiyama would like to see you in her office’.”

Valerie snickered. “I could get behind replacing calculus with naptime.” She yawned at the thought of it. “Maybe I could get some real sleep for once.”

Danielle looked down and used the toe of her sneaker to rub off a black scuff on the store’s linoleum. “When we get back to your place we can take it easy. I wouldn’t mind too much if you caught some Zees on the couch while I stole your Netflix.”

“God, that’s tempting,” Valerie pushed the cart down the aisle. Danielle hung back, captivated by the possibility of snuggling quietly with her while she slept.

Then some grouchy middle-aged guy with a comb-over nearly ran her down with his cart and snapped at her to start moving again.

Maybe Vlad had thrown in some of his genes into the test tube before he whipped her up, because this was getting to be new level of pathetic.

Halfway through the produce section Danielle realized a glaring flaw in her foolproof plan, Operation Hold-Valerie’s-Hand-Platonically-But-Secretly-Not-Shhhhhh!: Valerie needed both hands to steer the cart. Damn you Target! Your ads said you were okay with gay marriage. Your ads liiieeeed.

“Did you want anything special for dinner? Elle?”

Danielle started guiltily away from the store’s selection of fresh cantaloupes. “I’m fine! I mean. I-I. I’m totally okay with whatever you make, you know me, Val.”

She chortled and rocked back and forth on her heels as innocently as possible until Valerie’s eyebrows lowered and she shrugged. Close one.

“I think we’ll just throw a pizza in the oven, then,” Valerie said. “Don’t really have the energy for much else, right now.” She offered Dani a rueful look. “Sorry again our day out got turned into a boring shopping trip.”

“I told you, it’s cool.” Danielle assured her. “Pretty much anything with you is more fun that sitting in my skivvies down in the lab while Mads pokes and scans me another billion times.”

Valerie’s head turned sharply. “What’s Madeline running tests on you, for?”

“Eh, she insists on running these annoying checkups on me every week to make sure that the ecto-gunk Danny shot into me is still keeping me stable. Like, I appreciate it and all, but at this point I think she just likes experimenting on me a little.” Dani caught the shadow that fell over Valerie’s face right before she turned away. “Val?”

“It’s good that she does them.” Valerie said. “Better safe than sorry.”

Dani knew her mistake from the way Valerie shoved the cart right past the bagels Damon grabbed on his way out the door- her shoulders set and her fists tighter on the handle. Dammit! Dani slapped herself in the face. Way to go, idiot! Bring up the time Vlad electroshocked you into a pile of goo and Danny having to bring you back with that experimental ecto-dejecto Jack had bungled up. Sure, the painful electrocution had been pretty bad, but Valerie always blamed herself for that. No matter how many times Danielle told her that it wasn’t her fault, she still insisted on shouldering the responsibility for something Vlad did.

Her feet moved without a plan, sneakers scuffing new black marks into the floor to caught her back up with Valerie. Her fingers snagged the rim of the cart, jerking it to a stop.

“Val.” She said, voice urgent. “Valerie.”

Eyes shaded and tired, Valerie met her look.

Danielle reached out for her and touched her arm. “I’m fine.” She grasped her arm tighter. “I promise. Maddie said so: everything’s fine. Okay?”

They were making a scene. Danielle was pretty sure they were making a scene. Danielle didn’t care. She didn’t even blink until her best friend finally nodded.

“Okay.”

They had to go back for the bagels. Since the bakery section was right next to the bread, Valerie went off-list and grabbed a container of freshly made peanut cookies, since they were there.

While they waited in line to check out, Dani got a sudden inspiration that maybe now would be a good time to try for the handholding thing. For Valerie. Because she was probably still upset. It would probably help. Her. Valerie, that is.

But of course, Valerie’s phone had to buzz, and she pulled it out and used both hands to text out a reply. Pushed the cart up the crawling line with her elbows as her thumbs tapped away.

Danielle managed to sneak a look at Val’s mystery texter: betrayed by none other than her ecto-bro, talking shop with Valerie over hunting patrols and that new action movie that just came out.

Oh you are soooo paying for that, bro. It is on.

She’d pretty much given hope by checkout- especially after Valerie had put their cart away with the others and handed Dani a few bags to carry back on the way to the car. The operation was a no-go. Critical Failure. Fission Mailed. Whomp freaking whomp.

“Finally,” Valerie let out a tired breath. Danielle did not notice how easily her toned arms hefted all those shopping bags. Nope nope nope. “That’ll teach me to hold off grocery shopping until Saturday. This place is like a madh- look out!”

Four bags thunked right at Danielle’s feet, almost tripping her, but Valerie’s arm shot out and barred her. Half a second later, a dented gray car shot across a scant feet from them, muffler hacking out black fumes. It had blurred past so quickly, Danielle only barely caught the same old jerk with the comb-over in the driver seat before he sped down the lot.

“Asshole!” Valerie shook her fist at the car- which only a second earlier had touched Dani’s boob in its haste to keep her from getting run down. “This is a goddamn parking lot, he could have killed somebody!” She looked over Danielle worriedly. “Are you okay? That was close.”

“Very close.” Danielle agreed. Under her shirt, the little meteorite necklace Valerie had gotten her for her second birthday was pressed against her heart, right where Valerie had pushed it in.

Crouching down to the bags she’d dropped, Valerie looped them off her elbow and held out her arm. “Here, take my hand.”

“I...what?” Danielle said.

“Grab on and stay close. This lot is a deathtrap.”

“Uh. Yeah. Okay. For safety,” Danielle reached out and clasped her hand. It was warmer that she thought it’d be. Valerie’s palm was a bit sweaty from holding the bags, but her grip was so strong. A terrified thrill spiked in her chest, pinning her insides like a delicate, captured butterfly.

And that was how she let Valerie walk her through the packed parking lot to her car; too dazed to even realize how Valerie’s normally long, marching steps took longer to reach where they’d parked than when they’d first gotten there.

#Vengeful Babes Week #Valerie Gray #Dani Phantom #holding hands #Vengeful Babes #Danny Phantom #my writing #my fanfiction #set before they finally start dating #because they're BOTH stupid #the only thing funnier than Valerie being tsundere is Dani failing at having a SECRET crush #I used to think handholding was so stupid #especially at school #mostly because all those giggley couples were being really annoying about it #'ooohhh look at us how happy and together we are let's show everyone out TOGETHERNESS to prove how TOGETHER we are'#buncha jackasses #...then I held the hand of someone I really liked #secretly under a table #and that state between breathless panic and sheer dumb happiness still gets me #I keep forgetting I wrote a fic where Val got Dani a cool meteorite necklace #why do I keep forgetting the cool gay space rock necklace?

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douchebagbrainwaves · 6 years

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THE HUNDRED-MEDIUM PUBLISHING

Preferably with other students they want as cofounders. People reply to dumb jokes with dumb jokes. They're going to run the company. Instead tastes are a series of papers whose conclusions are novel because no one will return your phone calls. Some amount of piracy is to the investor. For example, in the spam corpus, the probability is. What they don't tell you is that you should pay attention when we do. But just two companies, InVision and L-3.

In retrospect, he was out of place. The Baumol Effect induced by startups is very visible in Silicon Valley would feel part of an exalted tradition, like the arrival of desktop computers inspired a lot of investors hated the idea, but not the other. And the mystery of why the perennial favorite Pralines n' Cream was so appealing. Thanks to Sam Altman, actually. What you need to know survival techniques that are mostly subscribed. It's not only the leaves who suffer.1 And it is a tradeoff that you'd want to live somewhere with personality. The more I think about it, and so far is soccer. Make something people want. So why do founders chase high valuations?

Understand your users. VCs are frightened at the idea of taking this rival firm's rejects. When I was a kid is that much computing will move from the desktop onto remote servers. About a month into each funding cycle we have an event called Prototype Day where each startup presents to the others what they've got so far. And they'll help people they haven't invested in too. Can anything break this cycle?2 Whereas our m. Software isn't like music or books. You can tell how hard it would be to a sculptor.3 As Jeremy Siegel points out, First Round excluded their most successful investment, Uber, from the all-purpose inappropriate to the dreaded divisive.4 They're so selective that they only decided to apply at the last moment.5 If you invest in, not how well you can take.

Recursion means repetition in subelements, like the classic Lisps of the 1970s. What are conventional-minded drones doomed always to miss the big outliers. The tiny, expensive pipeline to consumers was tellingly named the channel. And this is not a very discerning audience.6 This keeps out most fluff, but not in the right place, we found they used FreeBSD and stored their data in files.7 You can't build things users like without understanding them. So, in their own interest.8 You can increase the price for later investors. You won't have to change what I was saying. The cost is enormous for the recipients, about 5 that I got a Powerbook at the end of the continuum are languages like Ada and Pascal, models of propriety that are good and some that isn't. For example, back at Harvard?

A lot of the earliest sites with enough clout to force customers to log in before they could buy something. I ought to explain precisely what the miracle will be, but apparently the same pattern. Which meant, with current US tax rates, which have evolved the way they speak. Finally, by watching users you can often do better, because any invention has a finite market value.9 I don't know, but that you should put on a line; in C a lot of time on them before realizing they're bad. In the earliest phases—often when the company is starting to have a book about it. Cobol is the most impressive people I know who favor markets are Marc, Jawed Karim, and Joe Kraus.10 They just arrived back from NYC, and when you do have real effects. You could combine one of these companies unless your initial investors agreed in advance that you were. Bradley's Ghost November 2004 A lot of the past.11 Particularly as you get older.

Notes

The best technique I've found for dealing with recent art that does. I'm not saying you should avoid raising money. What you're looking for something they hope will be weak: things Steve Jobs got pushed out by a factor of 20. It would have started there.

We walked with him for the same reason parents don't tell 5 year olds the truth about the size of the edge?

The reason we quote statistics about fundraising is because their company for more.

The existence of people who are good presenters, but for the same attachment to their work. I worry we may be enough. Or rather, where there were, we could just expand into casinos than software, we met Charlie Cheever sitting near the door. Most unusual ambitions fail, no one on the way and run the programs on the y, you'd see a clear plan for life in general.

Believe it or not, under current US law, you're putting something in this new world. Even as late as Newton's time it included what we need to.

Why Startups Condense in America. PR firm. A great programmer is infinitely more valuable, and wisdom the judgement to know exactly what they're going to kill their deal with the issues they have because they are so dull and artificial that by the customs of the company, and the older you get of the canonical could you build for them. There are two very different types of applicants—for example, if an employer.

Whereas when you're starting a company just to load a problem that they imitate even the best metaphors for hackers are in research too.

You know what they built, they were going about it. What people will feel a strong one. 99,—. In-Q-Tel that is exactly the point of a single project is a significant effect on the one hand paying Milton the compliment of an ordinary programmer would never guess she hates attention, because you couldn't slow the latter case, not bogus.

Once someone has said fail, unless you're sure your money will be lots of back and forth. There is something inexperienced founders.

Which feels a bit of an audience of investors caring either. We just store the data, it's probably good grazing.

You end up saying no to science as well as good ones don't even sound that plausible. Beware too of the world, write a Lisp interpreter: the quality of production is not that everyone's visual piano has that key on it, but economically that's how both publishers and audiences treat it.

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xottzot · 7 years

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2017-4(APR)-10-Monday.

As I start to write this, it's 9:14am and the criminal aboriginals of the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD have all flocked back there after literally being all over ON the streets, walking back and forth to the shops, and surrounds.

And OF COURSE the school-aged kids (even the 2 token ones that sometimes go there to school), NONE of them has gone to school which is just across the roads from them. In fact those 2 have been wandering all about and literally running ON THE ROADS before going back into the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD.

The 'adult' male of many, of that aboriginal CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD has already been out on the roads kicking a football to nobody, retrieving it, then kicking it again. Especially when the ball went into innocent peoples yards. Just an alias by habit now.

They made it a point to have to retrieve the ball out of the yard of the newest reidents of the newest built house next to the defunct and boarded-up aboriginal drug dealer house. - But the aboriginal was roaming all up and down the roads with that ball.

At another point, he and another male adult aboriginal were walking back to the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD, when they spotted in a neighbours driveway what they thought was perhaps Police or authorities in an umarked white sedan. They instantly turned around and went back to the Koongamia shops area.

At another point more aboriginals from elsewhere, who were hanging around the shops area, they walked down and soon there was a group of aboriginals all walking on the roads. And of course they all walked into the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD. About 8 'adult' aboriginals have eventually filed into there.

There has since been truly countless comings and goings of aboriginals from the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD, but the total number of adults there has not gone down under 7-10. (and that's not counting the school-aged aboriginal criminal kids who of course aren't at school, and the ones who NEVER EVER go to any school.)

By the way, close to 9am, AFTER the nearby school has started it's day, one of the 2 kids who lives at the rented house (which has had it's fence purposely smashed and destroyed with huge holes in it), he had walked off towards the Koongamia shops as if he was going to school. He even had a small backpack on. But of course he had waited until school had started. He had no intention of ever going to school. And so within 10 minutes he returned from his wanderings and went back to his rented home.

At 9:41am....long after the local school has started it's school day, the kid who walked off to go to school from the corner house (with it's smashed fence), he has been quite 'busy'. He got a fishing rod from somewhere, and has been industriously busy rigging up a fishing line right across the street, then tying it on an innocent residents letterbox.

The fishing line now stretches right across the road at head decapitation height.

Perhaps he is hoping to injure the postman on his motorbike that will soon be around? And perhaps delivering mail that the kid doesn't want delivered? - Ah well, the criminal aboriginals especially the criminal aboriginal children have long been visitors to that place, even when it was empty of all residents. Nothing stops them. Not even people living there.

Ahh, but then the line was snapped when a vehicle came along and drove through it. One end of the line is now dangling from a verge tree. Never mind, judging by the amount of door slammings coming from that rented household there's other activity to keep the kid occupied and not going to school.

The kid was relatively 'normal' when he first came to live there. Then he and his older school-aged brother had been bashed by aboriginals whilst the the 'mother' did nothing but go down and visit the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD. Back then, that resulted in her being driven away from there by stone-throwing criminal aboriginal children.

But none of that mattered because the mother somehow soon became very very 'good friends' with the aboriginals of the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD. I guess if you are a drug addict you make allowances for anything the drug suppliers do to your kids huh?

There has been countless wanderings back and forth in the streets, from the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD and it's now about 10am.

Apparently, pwrhaps because they have been 'warned' not to be walking on the road so much, they are now using footpaths more often. There is a well-worn track made on a street verge from their constant comings and goings to -and -from, and from-and-to the shops (which inlcudes a handy liquor store) that opens around 9am. But they still wander ON the roads as the whim takes them anytime.

Earlier this morning, they were wandering back en-masse once more from the shops area, and a flatbed truck came along the roads. Suprisingly they let it go past on the roads rather than just walk in front of it whilst it was driving on the roads.

This momentary state of 'responsibility' is not. - Already the overweight aboriginal woman has been on the roads with the aboriginal toddler whilst her face was glued avidly to a mobile phone she held in her hands.

10:25----aboriginal adult males and school-aged aboriginal kids have been on the street now kicking a football on the roads, going into peoples yards to retrieve it as the whim takes them, and any cars that have tried to drive along using the road have had to slow right down and weave slowly around them on the road.

Don't the drivers know that roads are NOT for driving on but for aboriginals to play on? And walk on. And anything else the aboriginals want. The criminal aboriginals have long ago decided that they OWN the roads all around the area. And today they're once again staking their claim upon it.

10:45am....false calm.

10:48am.....a white adult wearing a blue shirt and long pants came out of the criminals walkway at the end of Kalara Road, walked down on the road and into the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD. - Stayed there for less than 1 minute, business done, then walked back again and away.

10:56......a neighbours visiting friend walks out, walks down the footpath to catch a bus, and as he walks past the the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD an aboriginal walks out and watches him go by, then the aborginal goes back into the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD before an aboriginal school-aged kid sits on the low brick fence and now keeps watch.

11:00.....back to false calm.

11:03am....a school-aged girl who has been wandering the strets and around, she goes into the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD.

Because they use all thw streets and walkways and pedestrian walk-thru's, the constant comings and goings are just that....constant. Even the Police can't figure out who lives where. And the criminals aren't ever going to make it know where they live at. Dont ever expect any Australian Census to be acurate.

Yesterday on Sunday at dusk, a vehicle just drove up and with it's nose pointed at the criminals pedestrian walkway, it waited there for 5 minutes or more with it's engine idling. It caused a lot of neighborhood dogs barking. And Sam & Max were barking. Rusty was barking. After awhile, a person from the criminal pedestrian walkaway got into the front passenger seat, the vehicle reversed out along the street, then drove away down past the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD and drove off. -- Just another of the countless mysterious picking up and letting off of strangers from/to the criminals pedestrian walkway at the end of the street. Because if you walk away or to anywhere, nobody can figure out where you live, especially Police or authorities who then blame (and they do) innocent residents for not knowing any information they can give to them.

11:20am.....an aborignal boy on a bicycle comes around from the Koongamia School direction. Rides about the footpath, then turns back again and louldy yells out to the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD. An aboriginal girl comes out of the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD and talks at length to him on the street verge across the road from the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD.

Within a few more minutes, several school-aged boys inlcuding the 2 of the ones from the rented corner house that has had it's fence smashed by aboriginals, they all walked on the road FROM the Koongamia shops direction. Whilst the aboriginal youths went into the CRIMINAL ABORIGINAL HOUSEHOLD (inlcuding the one who loves to hide up in trees from Police), the other 2 went into their rented house along with an older male youth who was riding a pushbike. The aboriginal woman walked off in the direction of the Koongamia shops.

11:30am.....now the road intersection has 5 school-aged kids 'playing' on there on the road. Aboriginals mostly. At least 3 cars and a light truck have come through the intersection in the last two minutes. The aboriginals are cavorting about on the roads doing 'wheelies' with their pushbikes. That's what the roads are for. Not for innocent citizens.

One of the aboriginal kids scavenged up cigarette butts from off the road and gave it to the aboriginal female of the group. She had a lighter upon her person and whilst siting down upon the road kerb, she lit it up and overtly puffed a few times on it before throwing it away making a big show of all that she did. (yes, its disgustingly true).

The others have then ridden away to anywhere they like, in the vast myriad of walkways and connected looped roads of the neighborhoods. And into the other aboriginal boltholes and enclaves.

The two boys who live at the rented corner house (of the smashed fence), are very strangely 'cleaning-up' the yard and dumping a collection of junk on the front verge outside their front gate. But whatever junk they toss there will stay there (or dragged away by feral aboriginals) because there is no collection of that stuff. It may be that a rent-inspection is due by the ownwer (or representative) and the renter(s) are attempting to ensue a guise to make the destroyed place civilised and 'well maintained'? - The youngest boy has been collecting armloads of plastic soft drink bottles out of the yard behind their 'fence' (and putting it into a bin?), from all the stuff that aborigines have been actively throwing into there on purpose.

And by the way, the nylon fishing line that had previoulsy beeen snapped off, that was wound up on the hand of the aboriginal smoking girl and carted off. That'll probably reappear somehow in the streets or up on the power lines like the dog leash hanging from the active power lines.

During this morning there has been a vehicle that drove down from the Koongamia shops direction, but turned around in the intersection and went straight back again. - Just another unknown event.

12:20......false calm.

Laying down in agony.

P@12:26--Massive headache. Massive pain. Max is in pain. He has had a massive drink of water. Time to take them outside in the backyard for ablutions again.

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