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veliseraptor · 3 years

Note

top five smiling moments in The Untamed

answering this made me realize how many good smiles there are in this series. there are a lot of good smiles. feel bad for some of the extremely good ones I’m leaving out (including every time Wen Qing smiles in particular, she has the cutest smile and it doesn’t show up all that much).

but anyway here’s a selection of five personal faves

1. End of series Wei Wuxian.

Did I almost learn to gif to answer this ask because screen stills did not fully capture the degree to which this smile is perfect? Maybe. I’m just a little too lazy to do that (yet). Anyway!! I have gone on record as saying that I really like the fact that CQL ends the way it does and a big part of that is this shot here because it really is just...transcendent. The slow turn! And then his smile that grows all the way until his eyes scrunch shut and it just warms up his whole face and - yeah, it’s extremely quality. I can only imagine I’m getting the same warm-fuzzy feelings that Lan Wangji probably is at this point.

2. Xiao Xingchen’s little head-shake smile at Xue Yang.

Look, you knew there’d be Yi City on this list, and this smile is just - augh! I mean, all Xiao Xingchen’s little smiles are so cute but I’m particularly fond of his “you’re too muuuuuch” smiles at Xue Yang (and a-Qing!). I love watching them come easier and more often over the course of the flashback, too. And this one in specific is another one where I wish I could’ve gotten the gif because it comes with this little hitch of a laugh, too. And I don’t think this one specifically gets the little “you’re too muuuuch” head shaking, but it’s definitely kin to the one(s) that do. The warmth! The fondness! The sense of the potential for unbridled joy in this daozhang! It’s perfect and he’s wonderful.

3. Lan Wangji’s startled little smile at the rabbit lantern.

I thiiiink this is the first time we see Lan Wangji smile? And (like all his smiles) it is so, so, striking.

(I mean that about all his smiles. I knew I was going to have to put a Lan Wangji smile on here and the only trouble was deciding which one I was going to use.)

But yes! Just - his sheer delight, his surprised pleasure at seeing this lantern - with a bunny! for him! - is so much. And then of course how quickly he panics about it. But yeah, the way it warms up and softens his whole face and how much younger it makes him look...

Lan Wangji smiles are treasures each and every one of them but this one does stick out for the fact that it is the first real glimpse of him we really see of a different personality, and a warmth, behind the icy exterior.

4. Jiang Cheng smile-crying at his siblings in episode 20.

This is another one where I was like “I know I’m going to have to include a Jiang Cheng smile, I just know it, but which one am I going to do” and I had to land on this one because the way Jiang Cheng looks at his siblings breaks my heart every time and just his...yeah, smile-crying! He’s so happy here, he’s so relieved, everything is fine now and Wei Wuxian is home and they’re together again! Everything will be okay! Or at least significantly more okay than it was!

This is just the face of a kid who loves his family and wants them together and is just overwhelmed with feelings he cannot really express, while no one is looking at him. He just loves them both! So much! And it kills me. Baby. I love you.

5. Xue Yang’s absolutely stupid besotted little smile(s) looking at Xiao Xingchen.

yes I know he is dead in the first one, what of it, he’s going to be fine any minute now.

Anyway though!!! I feel like I could just say “Xue Yang’s smiles, all of them, from these to the most unhinged ones” but I hard moded myself about picking one specific mood of one, and...yeah. Just. look at that face! look at him!!!! having a whole feeling and he’s not putting on a face, nobody can see him, nobody knows, but there’s just this absolute...augh. Adoration, is the best word for it, I think. This is Xue Yang’s ‘you are the only (other) person who matters in the whole world!!!’ face and it absolutely murders me.

I just want to grab his face and be like “THAT FEELING, HOLD ONTO THAT FEELING AND DON’T BLOW THIS FOR YOURSELF” but it’s too late, he kind of already did, and this is why I’m always crying about Xue Yang.

BONUS MENTIONS TO:

every time Wen Qing smiles (as mentioned above)

Lan Wangji’s staircase smile

Lan Wangji’s drunk “I like rabbits” smile

Lan Xichen’s various ‘fuck you’ smiles

Jin Guangyao’s nervous dimple smile.

#ameliarating #conversating #so many good smiles #the sad queer cultivators show #top five meme #xue yang #wei wuxian #lan wangji #xiao xingchen #jiang cheng #a post full of treasures i love very much

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echo-bleu · 4 years

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Brothers

A little Manes brothers canon divergence for @eveningspirit ‘s birthday! I hope you like it :) It also happens to fit with today’s @alexmanesappreciation theme: legacy.

[concussions, mentions of vomiting, mentions of abuse, mentions of the shed scene]

The exact sequence of events that leads to him, Flint and Gregory sitting together on a mattress in the bared living room of a house he doesn't know will remain blurry in Alex's memory. He puts it on the massive concussion he sustained at the hands of his own father, because he was careless enough to let his guard drop for ten seconds and the bastard managed to sneak up on him.

He remembers waking up in his childhood home and almost throwing up on the floor of the basement at the goddamn awful feeling of being back there−or maybe that was just the concussion. Probably the concussion.

He'd suspected that his father was faking most of the consequences of his stroke for a while, and he'd known about the bug on his phone for days. He just didn't expect his father to act so fast, in the middle of the junkyard, when Alex was supposed to report back in the morning.

Maybe Jesse heard something in his voice down in the bunker. Alex let his emotions carry him away and said more than he meant to, so maybe his father figured out that he was made somehow. Either way, he got the drop on him, and Alex woke up with a killer headache, pissed off, confused, and, yes, scared. Even after all these years, after three tours overseas, his father still scares the shit out of him.

The one who greeted him upon waking up, however, was not his father. It was Flint, a gun in his hand and a hard look on his face. Alex's sudden hope that Flint was here to free him was squashed quickly at his sneer. He listened to Flint and their father argue up in the living room about where to keep him for hours−something about Jesse grabbing him too early, before things were ready−before Flint came to get him. He'd learned his lesson from last time, because he stayed out of range of Alex's zip-tied hands the whole way out of the house. Alex nearly fell down the stairs at least three times because of the dizziness, and threw up, with some satisfaction, on his father's shoes.

It's been days, but he's still dizzy and nauseous all the time, and the killer headache is a constant companion.

Greg's hands are on him, checking him over. He finds one of the bumps on his head and Alex flinches away, almost overbalancing off the mattress when the cuff on his wrist pulls him back. “Are you alright?” Greg murmurs. Alex nods, and immediately regrets it as it sends a spike of pain down his spine.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Greg?” Flint growls. For once, he doesn't have his gun in his hand. Alex realizes that it's because the gun is tucked in Greg's waistband and he frowns, trying to keep it in his line of sight just in case. He thinks Greg actually cares, that he's not in on this with Flint and their Dad, but if he's not, why is he here?

“Now that's a real funny story,” Greg smirks mirthlessly. “Why don't you sit down, Flint?” He formulates it as a question, but it's obviously an order. And in a situation where there's only one gun, ranks don't matter much. Greg is out of the Navy and Alex outranks both of them anyway. Flint slowly drops to the floor, just outside the mattress, and crosses both his legs and his arms petulantly.

“See, yesterday morning, I got a call,” Greg stars. “It's the funny thing about being the only one in our family Alex trusts enough to list as next of kin. You get these calls. I got one before,” he nods to Alex's leg. “No, two, actually. There was that one time−” Alex glares at him and he rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, back to the point. I was told that Alex had been AWOL for 72 hours, and they were looking for him.”

Alex winces. Of course he already knows that crawling this way out of this one, even if everything ends well and no one dies, is going to be impossible. Being AWOL will earn him jail time, which is already bad, but if they start looking into his recent activities out of suspicion...well, he hopes to God that Liz has really emptied the lab, or things will get a hell of a lot more complicated.

Speaking of Liz...

Helena Ortecho was a surprise. There's a kind of irony in there, that Alex would be more surprised at being held captive by a woman he hasn't seen in over a decade than by his own family. He wonders what Liz would think of Helena being a kidnapper−or of her being more motherly to him that he's ever seen her be to Liz and Rosa. She watched Flint tie him up to a radiator without a word and then brought him food and clothes that weren't covered in vomit and dust, even getting Flint to briefly untie him at gunpoint to get his arm through the sleeve. Alex might have tried to seize the opportunity to fight back if he'd been able to see straight.

“Now I'm a good brother, and I know there's no way Alex would go AWOL without a good reason,” Greg continues. “Especially the day after he drove to the rez with a bunch of suspicious people who are supposedly his friends, and tells me he thinks that Dad has changed.”

Flint huffs.

“Yes,” Greg nods. “Either our baby brother really is more naive than we thought, or something fishy is going on.” Alex rolls his eyes, and Greg just glares at him.

The last few days, after getting to the house, are even more fuzzy. Alex remembers trying to push the mattress against the wall to get a better range of movement, and Flint coldly making him pull it back. He remembers pulling off his prosthetic, his stump swollen and sore from too much time with it on, and then trying to hit Flint with it the next time he came by, which earned him what is probably a second concussion from the butt of his brother's gun. He doesn't really remember anything since then. From the stubble on his face, it's been at least three days, but time is wonky and his mind unreliable.

Which brings him to now, and now has Greg sitting beside him on the mattress. Alex tries to blink away the confusion and sit up properly, wincing when his stump moves on the mattress. Days without a shrinker will make it a bitch to get back into the prosthetic.

Greg shifts. “I took a family emergency day, since that seemed to be the case, and I drove to Roswell. I had to look up my own brother's address in the phone book,” he glares again.

Alex throws his free hand up. “Hey, you're the one who didn't want to come.” His voice is weak and hoarse from disuse, and Greg looks more concerned than chastened.

“Right. I broke in−sorry, Alex, I'll replace the lock if you want me to. Alex's house was empty but his suitcase was still waiting on his bed. So I looked up Isobel Evans.”

“Really? Isobel?”

Greg shrugs. “I don't know what's going on between you, Guerin and Maria, but I'm not getting in the middle of it. Besides, Isobel seemed the most sensible of all of you.”

“You're just attracted to her,” Alex mutters.

“Alex, the choice I had was her or her brother. I know you're gay, but would you really go to Max Evans first?”

“I see your point,” Alex concedes, though he's still really not sure “sensible” is the adjective he'd use to describe Isobel. His muddled brain can't seem to come up with a better one, though, so he lets it go.

“All Isobel could tell me was that no one had seen you since you came back from the rez, but she got everyone moving to find you. Guerin went at it with Dad, got him to admit that he got to you first and Flint took you from him. Don't ask me how, I don't know.”

Isobel, Alex thinks after he's parsed all this−with at least a thirty-second delay. Isobel must have gone into their Dad's head, he would never have told them that willingly. But Greg doesn't know about aliens and there's no way he'll risk telling Flint something he could use against them, so he keeps quiet.

“After that, it wasn't hard to follow Flint here from his place,” Greg finishes. “I disarmed him once I confirmed you were here.”

Flint grunts. Alex looks over at him, amused. He's never been the best at self-defense, even when they were kids, too easily overtaken by his temper.

“Now will someone explain to me what's going on here?” Greg straightens up more, in a stance that looks relaxed but Alex can feel is fully vigilant. He may be missing part of the story, but he's a force to be reckoned with.

Alex and Flint exchange a glance. Somehow even as they stand on opposite sides of this fight, this decision−tell Greg about the aliens or try to lie their way through some kind of resolution−comes down to them. “Where's Helena?” Alex asks.

“In town,” Flint answers, some of the confrontation gone from his tone. “She won't be back for a few hours.”

“Who's Helena?” Greg asks.

“Flint's accomplice,” Alex answers. “Ironically also my friends' mom.”

“Which friends?” Greg frowns.

“Liz and Rosa. You remember them?”

Greg nods. “Rosa was the girl in Flint's year who died, right? Her mom is helping you?” he asks Flint.

Flint shrugs and looks at Alex again, trying to communicate something silently. Alex doesn't bother figuring out what it is. His head isn't quite clear enough to see all of the implications, but he already knows that there's no way Greg will settle for anything short of the truth. And Greg has always been very good at reading his brothers.

Plus, Greg is in control here, and he's been more than sympathetic to Alex since his injury. This could come out well for Alex, so he won't let Flint turn this to his advantage.

“Dad tried to take me down because I've become an inconvenience to his little genocide plan,” he says before Flint can stop him. “Flint thinks he can use me to get Michael to build him a bomb.”

That's the little he's gathered from Flint's talk with Dad the other day, and from Flint and Helena's interaction. He has no idea where Helena comes into it or how she learned about aliens, but he knows Flint's motivations well enough. They've been clear since Caulfield.

“Wait, genocide? Bomb?” Greg spits out in shock. Then he shakes his head, as if realizing that he shouldn't be surprised. “What the fuck are you doing, Flint?”

“They're invaders,” Flint says. “They're dangerous.” He's looking at Alex rather than Greg, as if he's trying to convince him. Alex wonders if he's not still trying to convince himself. Dad's twisted ideas coming from Flint's mouth sound so perverted and out of place.

“They're people,” Alex shoots back.

“They're aliens!”

“They're refugees!”

“Whoa,” Greg throws up his arms. “Am I missing something obvious or did you suddenly become a racist asshole? Are you even hearing yourself?” he asks Flint. Flint has the good grace to look a little abashed.

“Literal aliens,” Alex mutters. “We're talking about actual aliens.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Not even a little,” Alex sighs.

Greg closes his eyes. “Okay. Aliens. And Dad−”

“Wants to kill them all. Kept some of them prisoners for decades and experimented on them.”

Alex watches both Greg and Flint's face closely as he says that. Greg's is suitably horrified, but he doesn't know how to interpret Flint's expression. It's not disgust. It's not glee, either. He may be parroting Dad's rhetoric, but he's not lost to it.

“Dad was just trying to protect us,” he says. Not perfectly assured. The facade is cracking.

“Was?” Greg notices.

“He's been weaker, since the stroke.”

“You know he's faking the limp, right?” Alex asks.

A shadow goes through Flint's gaze. “Of course,” he says, but it's obviously a lie.

“Another lovely moment, finding out my father has been faking a disability for months when he hit me over the head with his cane,” Alex casually turns to Greg. Flint winces, glancing down at Alex's empty pant leg. “I love how well we communicate in this family.”

“Alex−” Flint starts.

“You don't get to say anything. You've been holding me chained up for days against my will. You've lost the right to tell me how great a family we are.”

“I'm still hung up over the alien thing, but I have to agree with Alex here,” Greg says. “What the fuck were you thinking, Flint?”

“He wants Michael to do something for him,” Alex says when Flint doesn't answer. “I don't even know why you'd think Michael will do anything. We're not together. And you're asking him to build a bomb designed to wipe out his entire species, Flint.”

“Wait, wait, Guerin's an alien?” Greg interrupts him.

“Yep,” Alex pops out the 'p'. “That's Dad's great threat to earth. Three orphan refugees who just want to live their life.”

“They're not alone,” Flint mutters, at the same time as Greg asks, “Three? Who else?”

“Max and Isobel Evans,” Alex smirks. The cat is out of the bag anyway, since Flint knows, and this little revenge feels good. Having one of his brothers on his side will feel good.

Greg blinks. “Okay,” he drawls out. “Let me get this straight. Guerin and the Evanses are aliens, even though they look just like us. And Dad knows about this, and wants to...wipe them out? And you're helping him?” he points to Flint.

“It's not just them,” Flint says. “We had specimens in Caulfield who could cause cancer with a simple touch, blow up whole buildings. They have dangerous powers.”

“And you have a gun,” Alex says. “How is it less dangerous than any of those powers? Powers, I should add, that Dad had no trouble using for his own agenda when it came to eliminating Jim Valenti.”

“Jim Valenti was killed by Subject N-38,” Flint frowns.

“And what, you think he went into his cell for fun? I have all the video surveillance, Flint. All the records. Decades of Dad and our grandfather randomly torturing people before going home for Sunday dinner.” From those surveillance tapes, he knows that Flint never had real contact with any of the prisoners. He never even went beyond the upper level, where he did the designs for his bomb. Alex spent hours and hours watching those tapes. “They're the same as us. Just people.”

“They want to wipe us out,” Flint says.

“They're my family,” Alex counters softly.

The shock on Flint's face would be comical, if it wasn't so painful. Greg's gaze on Alex is lost and sad. “They're more my family than you've ever been,” Alex adds for Flint.

He tries to mitigate that blow by putting a hand on Greg's arm, to show him that he doesn't mean him, but Greg shakes his head and gently moves away, guilt obvious on his face. Alex pushes through and leans his shoulder on Greg's, welcoming the support. His head is clearer now, but he's aching all over.

“Did you ever stop to think, when you were overseas?” he starts, his voice barely more than a whisper as he's trying to conserve some energy. “When you pointed your gun at insurgents or civilians or whoever it was that day you were ordered to contain or kill, did you stop and wonder who they were? If they had a life, too, a family? A brother?”

Flint looks away.

“Michael was the first person who really understood,” Alex continues. “He grew up in the system and he got the worse luck. He made me feel safe, for the first time since Mom left. He made me feel like I could get out of Roswell, escape Dad.”

“What happened?” Greg asks in a murmur.

“Dad found us,” Alex answers. “He didn't know what Michael was, but it didn't matter. He knew what I am. He started to choke me, and Michael tried to step in, so Dad took a hammer to Michael's hand.”

Neither of his brothers look shocked. Greg is clearly pained, and he drapes his arm around Alex's back in comfort, and Flint won't look at him, but they're not shocked. That's probably the saddest thing, that they all know exactly what Jesse Manes is capable of.

He waits until he's caught Flint's eyes again. “Michael's mother was in Caulfield,” he says. “He got to see her blow up with the building. He wanted to stay with her. He dreamed of going to college, but he stayed in Roswell because his sister needed him. He used to play the guitar while I sang, before Dad ruined his hand. That's the threat you're trying to eliminate, Flint.”

Flint swallows. “Did Dad really kill Jim?”

“I have the video on a secure network,” Alex nods. “We'd have to go to my place to show you, but yes. He did. I'm sorry,” he adds after a moment.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I'm sorry that Dad isn't the man you wish he was. I wished for something else for a long time, too.”

Flint stands up suddenly, and starts pacing. “I've read the reports,” he says. “The aliens attacked people when they arrived. And there's been thirteen murders in the last ten years done by aliens.”

Greg looks at Alex. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Alex sighs. “They're people. No worse than us, but also no better. We found the murderer. He's dead now.”

“We're talking about a serial killer, Alex!” Flint loses his cool. “What if they're all like that?”

“What if they aren't?” Alex yells back. He regrets it as the sound rings painfully inside his head. “Tell me how many times you've heard that same question asked about Native men, Flint.”

Flint opens his mouth, and closes it again. He paces the length of the room faster, giving the edge of the mattress a kick when he passes by.

Greg clears his throat. “Can we go back to the bomb? What the fuck is it?”

“It's not really a bomb,” Flint says. “It's a chemical agent, designed to eliminate people who have specific DNA strands.”

Alex can almost see the cogs turn in Greg's head. “How do you plan on dispersing it?”

“My team designed an atomizer,” Flint explains. He looks hesitant, like he knows he shouldn't be talking about that but he can't quite remember why. They've got through to him at least a little, Alex realizes. “I just need someone to build it.”

“Michael,” Alex explains for Greg's benefit. “He's a mechanic. And a genius.”

“So it's not a sanctioned mission,” Greg raises his eyebrows. “You and Dad have been working on this for...how long? Years? A Manes family mission to commit genocide?”

“We're doing what needs to be done,” Flint stops pacing and stands at attention.

“By fucking kidnapping Alex? Flint, did you stop even once to think about what you're doing?”

“They got into Alex's head. I'm doing this for his own good.”

Alex lets himself fall back until he's lying down on the mattress, prompting his brothers to look at him. His headache is getting worse, not better. “His words, in your mouth,” he tells Flint. ��I expected that from Clay. Not from you. Have you forgotten everything, Flint? All of Granddad and Granny's history lessons?”

Flint looks away. Greg seems to seize the opportunity, and he stands up and grabs Flint's arm. “Let Alex go, Flint.”

“I can't.”

“Do you remember the last time we were all at the house together?” Greg lowers his voice, almost as if he doesn't want Alex to hear, but the room is small. “We promised we'd look out for him,” he nods toward Alex. “That we wouldn't let Dad get to him again.”

“He shouldn't have come back to Roswell,” Flint sets his chin stubbornly.

“Maybe not. But he's still our brother. We need to stop failing him.”

For the first time, Flint truly looks torn. “I'm trying to protect him from the aliens,” he says slowly.

“I think you and I both knows that's not who we need to protect him from,” Greg says.

Alex resists the urge to retort that he can protect himself−his current situation would tend to disagree, although he swears he'll free himself the minute his head stops swimming−and finds himself feeling oddly touched.

Flint looks down at his shoes.

“Let him go, Flint.”

“Fine,” Flint finally relents. He grabs a key from his pocket and tosses it to Alex, who scrambles to open the cuff around his wrist.

He eyes the gun in Greg waistband again, trying to figure out if it's worth making a go at it, but he decides to trust Greg. It's not like he can stand up, anyway.

“What now?” he asks.

“We should really get you to a hospital,” Greg says.

“No. I need to see that Michael's okay. And I need to stop their plan,” he waves at Flint, including Helena and his father as well. He gives Flint a defiant look. “I can't let you harm them.”

“I know,” Flint sighs. “Helena's gone to bring Guerin here.”

“Will you stand down?” Alex asks him. “Let me do what I have to do?”

“I won't try to harm you,” Flint holds his empty hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Or your family,” he adds reluctantly.

“Good.” Alex turns to Greg and holds a hand up to be helped into a standing position. “You have a phone? I'm going to need it.”

“Who put you in charge?” Greg asks, amused. “You have a concussion, Alex, you need medical care.”

“I know. I'm doing to call my doctor,” Alex answers. “After I call Michael, anyway. Anyone know where my leg is? We have a lot of work to do.”

#roswell new mexico #alex manes #alexweek2020 #gregory manes #flint manes #roswell nm #mine #echo's fanfiction #manes brothers #eveningspirit

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simmonsofshield · 4 years

Text

Broken, Mended Chapter 6

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader (platonic)

Summary: After breaking off an engagement, Y/N may have possibly hit rock bottom. But she doesn’t have time to think about it because she gets deployed to Iraq. Leaving their daughter with her friend, Sam Wilson, she’s gone for a year. She doesn’t like talking about her ex-fiance and is unsure if she’ll ever be able to love again. What happens a certain Captain is his literal doppelganger?

Words: 1800+

Warnings: Takes place in a hospital, but no medical jargon/scenes or anything.

A/N: Starting this chapter, we veer from canon. Or at least there’s no Raft situation. I don’t really know how I would place this parallel to canon, so I’m just not gonna think about it. This is for @ussgallifreyfics 550 follower writing challenge! Takes place during Civil War.

tag list is open

The steady beeping of the heart monitor is all too familiar. Sam thinks back to when he was sitting in this same exact spot - next to a bed - two years ago when he was waiting for Steve to wake up.

Doctor Rush comes in and he stands. He looks over at his friend’s body as her chest rises and falls steadily with the beeps of the monitor.

“Her most recent tests have come back. At this point it’s too hard to tell when or even if she’ll wake up. She fell from quite a height and a lot of damage was done.”

“Do you have any kind of estimate?”

“Nothing accurate. If she wakes up the earliest it would happen is maybe three weeks.”

He slumps back into the chair, “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Does she have any family we can contact?”

He shakes his head, “Only a four year old daughter. She’s staying with a friend and I don’t want to worry the mother quite yet.”

“Okay. I’ll come back with any updates. You’re free to stay until visiting hours are over.”

“Thanks.”

Hours pass but Sam doesn’t even notice. He alternates between sitting beside Y/N, holding her hand and talking to her, and pacing the room. He tries to distract himself by reading the newspaper or looking at his phone, but it doesn’t work. He only can for a couple minutes at a time. Then he’s back at her side.

He blames himself. Even though he doesn’t know why or how she was there. He does know that her wing pack malfunctioned because Vision was aiming for him. Now Rosemary may have to grow up without either of her parents, be put into foster care. And it’s all his fault.

Six weeks later

He wakes up to his phone ringing. Telemarketer or not, what kind of person has the audacity to call him at - he rolls over and looks at the clock - 2:45 in the morning? He throws his arm over to the side table and picks up his phone. About to silence it, he squints at the caller id and almost drops it as he struggles to answer it. It’s from the hospital.

“Hello?”

“Is this Samuel Wilson?”

“Yes.”

“We have a patient here, Y/N L/N, she’s asking for you. This name is also written down as her next of kin. I’m assuming that’s you as well?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Great! Come down if you can. Sorry to call you at this hour.”

“No problem. Thank you. I’ll head your way.”

He quickly puts on some sweatpants and a tee shirt and tapes a note to his door in the Compound before heading to the elevator. The nurse’s tone wasn’t bad in any way, especially considering that Y/N has been comatose for about six weeks, but it wasn’t objectively good either, and that worries him.

Walking through the kitchen he nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears the refrigerator close.

“Holy shit.” he turns to see the culprit, “what are you doing up Steve?”

He holds up a glass, “Water. You?”

“Y/N’s awake.”

He smiles, “That’s great!”

Sam smiles softly then jerks his head toward the elevator, “Wanna come with? I could use someone. The nurse said she’s been asking for me, but considering the damage that was done, who knows what she’s gonna be like?”

“Of course, Sam.”

When they arrive at her room, Sam takes a moment and looks at her from outside. She’s smiling, probably having just made a joke with the nurse tending to her. It makes him smile.

Before he can go in, the doctor catches him. “Ah, Mr. Wilson. It’s nice to see you back here.”

He shakes his hand, “Dr. Rush. How’s she been?”

“It was touch and go for a couple weeks, but she made it through. She’s a fighter.”

“That she is.”

“However, now that she’s awake, we have run into a couple complications.”

His breath hitches, “What kind of complications?”

“Considering her fall, we knew there would be some sort of brain damage, but we didn’t know how severe until she woke up.” Sam nods as he continues, “We’re still unsure of the full severity, but it seems that her memories are a little scattered. What’s good is that she seems to remember you.”

“Yeah, we were in the Air Force together for a couple years.”

“Good, well, thank you for your service. For now, I would recommend that your friend here wait outside while you go in. We don’t want to confuse her.”

He looks over at Steve and nods, “Of course. Thank you Dr. Rush.” They shake hands again and he heads into her room.

Hearing his footsteps she turns and smiles at him, “Sam!” she tries to sit up but a small ow comes out of her mouth and she lays back down. “What happened?”

That was a loaded question. How was he supposed to explain what actually happened if she wasn’t fully coherent? He tries his best, getting to the point as quick as possible, “You were shot down. You tried to get your parachute out in time but didn’t. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Oh,” is all she says. She begins looking around, “Where’s Rose- what’s Ransom doing outside?”

Sam’s eyes go wide at the question as he turns around to see Steve standing across the hallway chatting up some nurse who apparently had just offered him some coffee given the plastic cup now in his hand. Seeing Sam looking at him, he takes it as the okay to come in. Before Sam can shake his head or say anything to Steve, he speaks. “Hey, Y/N, how are you feeling?”

Instead of answering the question, her eyes focus on the cup in his hand, “I don’t remember you being a coffee drinker, Ransom.”

“Ransom?” Steve turns to Sam with a little bit of fear and concern in his eyes, unsure of what to do. Sam looks back at him with close to the same expression. It’s silent for just a couple seconds too long.

“Sammy?” she looks at him, also confused, “is everything alright?”

Always quick on his feet, he give her his signature gap-toothed smile, “Yeah, Y/N. The doctor, Dr. Rush, just said that your memories may be a little scattered. He wasn’t sure if you’d remember - uh, Ransom here,” he claps Steve on the shoulder, “he wanted me to talk with you alone first. Apparently I made quite the impression, because I was the first person you asked for when you woke up.”

She laughs as good as she can considering the pain she’s in, “You always make an impression Sammy.”

He smiles back at her. “How are you feeling? You want water or anything?”

“Well, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. But I’m good for now, thanks.”

He nods, “I’m gonna take Ransom outside for a second and chat with him. We’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

The two walk out and go down the hall a little bit until they know they’re out of earshot of Y/N. They sit in a couple chairs across from an empty room and look at each other.

“Shit,” Sam looks down at the floor while Steve takes a sip of the coffee in his hand. “we gotta think of our next move. She has no idea who you are.”

“We could start with telling me who Ransom is?”

“Right,” Sam pauses while he contemplates, head bobbing while he goes back and forth in his mind.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just..she told me specifically not to tell you.”

“Why-” “But I feel like this is a situation that would cancel that out. At this point, you need to know some things...” Steve sits silently while Sam fights with himself. A few more seconds pass before he makes his decision. “Okay, so the short version is that you look like him.”

“Like Ransom?”

“Almost exactly. Real Black Mirror shit.” Steve raises an eyebrow, to which Sam waves off, “it’s a show.”

“Okay,” Steve shakes his head, “and the long version?”

Sam shrugs, “She hasn’t even told me it. But what I do know is that some shit went down, he got arrested, and she broke up with him. They were engaged.”

“Shit,” he runs his hand through his hair, “and she thinks I’m him.”

“Well, she’s only said like five words to you but it seems like maybe she doesn’t remember leaving him. She might think they’re still engaged...” he sighs and shakes his head, “which I don’t know if that makes this easier or harder for us.”

“Maybe you should start by asking her what she remembers.”

“Yeah...yeah, that’s a good idea.” The pair walk back and Sam enters the room while Steve waits outside in a chair across the hall.

Her head turns at the sound of the door sliding open. “Get everything sorted out?”

He nods as he pulls up a chair beside her. “Yeah, a little. Can you tell me what you remember? You know, since Dr. Rush said that the injuries you endured have caused you to be a little fuzzy...” he trailed off, hoping she’ll take the excuse.

She nods, closing her eyes to help focus. “Um...well, what I know for sure because the nurses ask me like two or three times a day is that it’s June 2016, I’m at MidHudson Regional Hospital in New York, Matthew Ellis is the president, and my name is Y/N L/N,” they both laugh as she continues, “I’m assuming that’s not what you want though. So, I know that you’re Sam Wilson, we were both in the Air Force - that’s how we met - and we both participated in Falcon missions. I have a daughter named Rosemary. I live in Boston with Ransom, we’ve been engaged for three years.”

Sam smiles as she talks, but it fades when she mentions Ransom. How was he going to break all of this to her? And apparently she didn’t remember the fight in Berlin at all or why she even was in the hospital, besides what he told her.

Y/N notices the change in expression, her brows furrowing together, “Are you sure everything’s alright, Sammy? Where’s Ro?”

He gives a tight-lipped smile as he tries to go through all the plans in his head, “Yeah, yeah, just fine. She’s at a friend’s house. Would you like me to call the mother and bring her here?” she nods and closes her eyes for a moment, “okay, I’ll do that right now. Be right back.” he says softly as he exits the room.

Considering it’s around 5:00 in the morning, Sam is not surprised that Julie doesn’t answer. He leaves a message about Y/N being awake and meeting halfway in Philly later in the day to pick up Rosemary. He walks back into the room to see her peacefully sleeping. He smiles and leaves a note on the side table, letting the nurse know about it so someone could give it to her when she wakes up. He thanks them and him and Steve head back to the compound.

tags:

@cake-writes @supraveng @vxidnik @kallafrench @itsallyscorner @polarcrystall @eliza5616 @ilovesupersoldiers @ashwarren32 @itsgonnabe-brian-may

#gallifreys500 #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #sam wilson x reader #avengers x reader #Steve Rogers #captain america #MCU fanfiction #mcu ff #marvel fanfiction #marvel ff #marvel #MCU

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gaberoothekangaroo · 7 years

Text

uhhh. so. i did a thing. and now i am having Feelings™ at 3am and have no chance of going to sleep anytime soon

i made a mistake!!! i was writing and i became inspired by my left ear going silent and decided to look up info on deaf/hearing impaired persons. i thought it would be cool to add another “””””””disabled””””””” character to the list of stories id like to write. (personally, im tired of always reading about abled bodied white tweens. hetero white tweens. so what better way to fix that than to do it myself.) so i went to some hoh sites and watched a shit ton of youtube videos and pulled out the books ive got on it, and now ive fallen down a youtube hole.

to be super honest, ive always wanted to learn sign language but its...like coming up to a wall that you know you have to climb over, but you just have to figure out how and so you keep standing there and you might try to climb over it a couple of times but you spend the majority of your time staring at the wall because youre overwhelmed. same thing with my approach to sign language and braille.

for those of you that arent aware, ive got mid to high end moderate hearing loss in my left ear. things get muddled. a little charlie brown womp womp goin on. right ear, not bad. maybe a little fuzzy in certain situations, but otherwise pretty normal. i myself smush shit together when talking so. i was drawn to learning french because its a language built on lack of pronunciation and i excel at slurring my way through every speaking test ive ever had. and for those of you that also arent aware, ive got some pretty horrendous vision. ive got 20/70 with visual snow syndrome which gifts me with photophobia and tinnitus (that tends to make my hearing worse). the visual snow never leaves and makes the words look a little fuzzier than they actually are. photophobia for those that dont know the word, is light sensitivity.

my vision problems bother me more than my hearing does. yeah, its annoying for all of a sudden my left ear to go offline. im not aware of all the little background noises until theyre smothered out of existence and it pulls me out of whatever im doing. my vision sucks because being on the computer hurts my eyes. doing art hurts my eyes. i have to add extra light to really help me see value changes sometimes. white paper is not white but like...10% grey. when im painting i cant always see the value changes so i either make everything too light or i end up making my painting muddy. words can sometimes start slipping together. reading street signs fucking sucks and i memorize how to drive places. i dont know street names, i know landmarks and how to drive that way. its given me depth perception issues. ive never been able to read shit on the board. im always squinting outside because the sunlight is too bright. my screen is always too bright. the lights in my room are sometimes too bright, but being in the dark really puts strain on my eyes. fuck driving at sunset cause i cant see fuckall and im going to end up crashing one day. sometimes my eyes get stuck being unfocused when im really tired because my brain is like ‘im done, im punching out, go to bed cause im done interpreting sight’. my brain starts trying to fill in gaps sometimes, like i see things that arent there or read things that arent there.

with all...that...learning sign language seemed. not silly? but like...not useful at the rate of decline my eyes have been going. and braille seemed like a good idea, but it really scares me because i feel like if i learn it, it means im resigned to the fact that my eyesight will go kaput. its not a fear that makes sense; just cause i learn braille doesnt mean my vision will disappear; but the fear inside makes it feel that way. i also fear the loss of self: like no more art, no more photos/shows, no more nature/rainy days that i can see, no more driving. it means that my mother would be right and i would 1000% be a burden. it just...i feel i have to rush to get my degrees and to see things and do things because i feel like im always rushing against a clock; when will your eyesight go? when will you lose the things you like? when will you lose yourself? how long will you be you?

to get back on topic and away from my never ending internal panic:

i want to read characters like me. people that struggle with their disabilities, but persevere and keep going and kick ass. but i dont find that many. and i want to change that. i want to write about people that dont get to see themselves in fiction, dont get to see themselves as the hero. i want to read inner turmoil like this. i want to find more kin in books, not just the sometimes kin of poc or lgbtq. i want to read about a protagonist thats worried about trying to find a boyfriend and trying to overcome a disability in his life. i want to read about the girl that fought her demons and rose above her disability and clawed tooth and nail for everything she wanted and more in life.

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