I still can't believe it ! Like I learned about the premiere the day before so when I knew she was gonna be there, I was determined to go but never in a million years I would have thought I'll see her RIGHT in front of me and talk to her. Like I talked to her. Well "tried to talk" is actually more accurate because I was freaking out too much to talk correctly. Like I didn't say "You're beautiful" correctly, even I can't understand it in the video. Anyway, I met her and she signed my poster and I have pictures so it's all that matters ! I'm so happy she came when I was in Rome, I never would have thought I'd be able to meet her one day. She means the world to me 🥰
Here's a picture from the moment where I met her. (It's not the best quality but I was too focused on looking at her to check if I was recording correctly haha)
TW established relationship, Husband!Bucky x Wife!reader, you and Bucky have a son called Jamie, Alpie fluff!!
I have gotten so many asks for this! Could be read as a one-shot, but you can read more stories in this universe here!
Jamie had been asking for a pet for a while now.
He didn’t have the vocabulary to make a proper argument. After all, he is all but six, but he had enthusiasm, persistence, and a collection of stuffed animals he carried into every room as evidence of his readiness. For nearly two weeks, he followed Bucky around the apartment with a floppy brown dog beneath one arm, repeating some variation of, “I want a pet, Daddy,” whenever Bucky made the mistake of looking at him.
At breakfast, Jamie pushed his stuffed dog across the table towards him. “Pet.”
While Bucky was putting on his boots, Jamie sat on the floor beside him and placed the stuffed dog directly on his knee.
“Pet, Daddy.”
Even at bedtime, already half asleep, Jamie patted the empty space beside him on the mattress and whispered, “Kitty can sleep here.”
Bucky had remained firm for much longer than you expected.
“We can get a fish,” he suggested one morning. “Fish are good. They stay where you put ’em.”
Jamie stared at him solemnly. Bucky stared back.
“You can pick the colour.” Bucky added.
Jamie frowned.
You watched from the kitchen table, hiding your smile behind your mug.
“I want a kitty,” Jamie whispered.
Bucky almost folded immediately. “A fish can be nice too, pal.”
Jamie looked down at his cereal and gave one miserable sniff.
Bucky looked at you helplessly.
You hummed.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but you only smiled and reached for your phone.
There was a small animal shelter twenty minutes away with several cats available for adoption. You had already found their page the night before, after Jamie had fallen asleep with his cheek pressed against his stuffed dog’s ear and Bucky had spent ten minutes carefully untangling the toy from his little arms.
You turned the screen towards him. “We should go this afternoon.”
Bucky glanced at the photographs, then at Jamie, who was still miserably playing with breakfast.
You kissed his cheek. “It’s just to have a look.”
Bucky knew exactly what you were doing and loved you far too much to stop you.
The shelter was filled with the distant sound of barking dogs and the occasional indignant meow. Jamie clung to Bucky at first, overwhelmed by all the noises, his small fist curled tightly in the fabric of Bucky’s shirt. Bucky kept his human palm spread over his back and murmured into his hair until Jamie finally lifted his head.
Then he saw the kittens.
His entire little body buzzing with wonder. “Daddy,” he breathed.
“I see ’em.”
“Kitty.”
“Yeah, pal.”
Jamie wriggled on the spot until Bucky gave him the go ahead to run, though Bucky kept hold of his hands as he ran up towards the nearest enclosure. Jamie pressed his palms against the glass and stared inside with his mouth slightly open.
There were three kittens curled together on a blanket. Two were tabbies, sleepy and round-bellied, tangled around each other like striped socks. The third was white, apart from the faintest grey smudges between her ears and a tiny grey tip on her tail.
She was smaller than the others.
The moment Jamie appeared, she opened her pale blue eyes and stared back.
Jamie crouched.
The kitten stood, stretched her little back legs, and began wobbling towards the glass. She made it halfway before stepping on the edge of the blanket and tumbling sideways into one of her sleeping siblings.
Jamie gasped.
The kitten scrambled upright, shook herself, and continued as though nothing embarrassing had happened.
“She’s clumsy,” Bucky murmured.
You glanced at him. He had already leaned closer.
The kitten reached the glass and placed one tiny pink paw against it.
Jamie immediately put his hand over hers. “Baby kitty.”
The kitten opened her mouth and produced the smallest, squeakiest meow you had ever heard.
Jamie turned towards Bucky with both hands clasped against his chest, his face completely overcome.
Bucky looked at you. You raised your eyebrows.
“We’re only looking,” he reminded you, but there was already no conviction left in his voice.
A shelter worker opened the enclosure and lifted the kitten carefully. Jamie bounced on his feet as she was lowered into Bucky’s arms, making little excited noises beneath his breath.
Bucky froze.
He had held Jamie with more confidence when he was only a few hours old.
The kitten was so tiny that she fit almost entirely in his flesh hand, her white paws resting against the dark fabric of his henley. Bucky held his metal arm beneath her as extra support, unnecessarily cautious, his shoulders stiff with the terrible responsibility of being trusted with something so small.
The kitten sniffed his fingers.
Then she reached up, placed both paws against his chest, and began climbing him.
“Hey,” Bucky murmured, startled.
She scaled the front of his shirt with determined little grunts, using his sleeve and collar like footholds until she managed to wedge herself beneath his chin.
Then she began to purr, absurdly loud for something so small. The sound vibrated against Bucky’s throat as she rubbed her face beneath his chin, covering him in white fur and unquestioning affection.
Jamie clapped both hands.
Bucky’s whole face softened.
You watched the exact moment he realised he had lost.
His head tipped carefully towards the kitten, one finger moved over her back, barely touching, tracing her tiny spine.
The kitten purred harder.
“Cute little Alpine,” you whispered.
He raised his eyebrows. “Alpine?”
“She looks like snow, doesn't she?”
Bucky’s lips twitched. He knew exactly what you were doing.
He had fallen from the Alps. His therapist had suggested visiting snowy mountains as a family someday, replacing sad memories with good ones. Bucky hadn’t been ready for that yet.
But this tiny white kitten, purring safely beneath his chin and already reaching for Jamie with one paw? This was sweet.
Jamie reached up, and Bucky immediately crouched so he could see. Alpine sniffed Jamie’s fingers, then leaned forward and licked the very tip of one.
Jamie squealed so loudly that Alpine startled, though only for a second. Then she tried to catch one of the strands of hair falling over his forehead.
Jamie collapsed into giggles.
Within ten minutes, Bucky was asking the shelter worker questions.
What food was she eating? Had she seen a vet? Did she need medicine? Was she cold at night? Did she sleep alone? Was she frightened by loud noises? How much was she supposed to weigh? Was that little sneeze normal?
You stood beside him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing while Alpine climbed into the crook of his metal elbow and curled herself there.
“We’re… still just looking?” you joked.
Bucky glanced down at the kitten, who was licking his metal thumb.“She picked Jamie.”
“Of course.”
After all, he could never say no to you. He had never been able to say no to Jamie either, even when he tried to disguise it beneath sensible suggestions about fish.
Alpine yawned, showing a tiny pink tongue and small teeth, then tucked her nose beneath Bucky’s wrist.
Bucky sighed.
Jamie didn’t understand the word adoption, but he understood when Alpine was placed in a little carrier and came home with you.
The entire journey back, he kept one hand pressed against the mesh door, whispering, “Hi, kitty,” whenever Alpine looked at him. Alpine answered almost every time with a little chirping sound, eventually curling against the side of the carrier nearest Jamie’s hand.
At the pet shop, Bucky attempted to be reasonable.
He failed within minutes.
Alpine needed a bed, but perhaps she needed two, in case she preferred one room over another. She needed toys, though Bucky couldn’t decide whether she would like feathers or little fabric mice, so he bought both. She needed a scratching post, a brush, a collar, several kinds of treats, and two different blankets because one was made out of better materials but the other looked warmer.
Jamie chose a tiny yellow ball with a bell inside it. Alpine adored it.
The moment you let her out at home, she batted it beneath the couch, crawled after it, and emerged backwards with dust on her whiskers. Bucky immediately moved the couch away from the wall so she wouldn’t get stuck, despite you pointing out that she had already freed herself.
Alpine trotted directly over his boot, climbed his trouser leg halfway to his knee, and hung there while Bucky stared down at her.
You covered your mouth.
“Help her,” he said.
“She got herself up there.”
“She’s stuck.”
Alpine meowed and continued climbing.
Bucky scooped her up before she could reach his waist, settling her securely against his chest. She immediately began purring, pleased with the outcome of her expedition.
Jamie wrapped both arms around Bucky’s leg, demanding his turn.
So Bucky sat down on the rug with Jamie tucked between his knees and Alpine curled in his lap.
“Cute little Alpine,” he whispered.
You kissed his cheek.
Eventually, Jamie fell asleep and snored between you. Alpine purred louder.
Bucky’s arm tightened around his family, and although he would never admit it after arguing so confidently in favour of a fish, his smile remained long after both Jamie and Alpine had fallen asleep.
Maybe this had been a good idea. Maybe it had been the best one yet.
—
this is a queued post! I am currently either getting married or on my honeymoon! enjoy! 💕
Resources For Writing Deaf, Mute, or Blind Characters
Despite the fact that I am not deaf, mute, or blind myself, one of the most common questions I receive is how to portray characters with these disabilities in fiction.
As such, I’ve compiled the resources I’ve accumulated (from real life deaf, mute, or blind people) into a handy masterlist.
Deaf Characters:
Deaf characters masterpost
Deaf dialogue thread
Dialogue with signing characters (also applies to mute characters.)
A deaf author’s advice on deaf characters
Dialogue between deaf characters
Mute Characters
Life as a Mute
My Silent Summer: Life as a Mute
What It’s Like Being Mute
21 People Reveal What It’s Really Like To Be Mute
I am a 20 year old Mute, ask me anything at all!
Blind Characters:
The 33 Worst Mistakes Writers Make About Blind Characters.
@referenceforwriters masterpost of resources for writing/playing blind characters.
The youtube channel of the wonderful Tommy Edison, a man blind from birth with great insight into the depiction of blind people and their lives.
An Absolute Write thread on the depiction of blind characters, with lots of different viewpoints and some great tips.
And finally, this short, handy masterpost of resources for writing blind characters.
Characters Who Are Blind in One Eye
4 Ways Life Looks Shockingly Different With One Eye
Learning to Live With One Eye
Adapting to the Loss of an Eye
Adapting to Eye Loss and Monocular Vision
Monocular Depth Perception
Deaf-Blind Characters
What Is It Like To Be Deafblind?
Going Deaf and Blind in a City of Noise and Lights
Deaf and Blind by 30
Sarita is Blind, Deaf, and Employed (video)
Born Deaf and Blind, This Eritrean American Graduated Harvard Law School (video)
A Day of a Deaf Blind Person
Lesser Known Things About Being Deafblind
How the Deaf-Blind Communicate
Early Interactions With Children Who Are Deaf-Blind
Raising a DeafBlind Baby
If you have any more resources to add, let me know! I’ll be adding to this post as I find more resources.
Kate and Cindy set out to save you from Ana’s clutches, but they may need to save themselves from you first
ᥫ᭡content: something something supervillain monologue vs quippy superhero dialogue; torture; mind control; Kate not listening to reason (aka her sheer love for you makes her stubborn); violence; comic relief/banter; hurt/comfort kinda; 4.4k
ᥫ᭡a/n: after a three-month long wait, i’m FINALLY continuing my spider!reader series. i know a few people have been waiting on this and i apologize that you’ve had to wait so long. part six was originally supposed to be the finale, but since this part ran kind of long and we still have the big boss fight with Ana, now it seems that part seven is gonna be the finale. hopefully it doesn’t take me another three months to deliver it to you. anyways, thanks for your patience and enjoy!
A dull ache throbs behind your temples as you come to. Your vision swims, the room around you nothing more than a blur of gray concrete and harsh fluorescent lights. Every muscle in your body screams as you try to move. A metallic clink is the first sound you register.
“…the hell?” You blink several times until your surroundings come into focus. The room you find yourself in is all concrete walls and steel support beams. A single warehouse door sits to the left of you, but there’s another set of reinforced sliding doors across the room, guarded by a complicated lock. And then you look up. Your wrists are bound above your head by thick titanium cuffs bolted into the wall. Matching restraints hold your ankles apart, leaving you suspended just enough that your feet barely touch the floor.
“Seriously?” You mutter, testing the restraints. “This feels a little excessive,”
You pull against the chains, and they groan but don’t give. You try again, grunting in pain when the effort makes you feel a sharp ache in your ribs, more than likely due to whatever Ana had shocked you with back in your apartment. Your vision swims again as the recent events come back to you in waves. Your apartment, the fight. And then your mind drifts to Kate. Fuck, what about Kate?
I’ll find a way out of here, Kate. You think to yourself, hoping the words will somehow subliminally reach her. I’ll make it back to you, I swear. Knowing Kate and the way she worried over you, you wouldn’t have been surprised if she already sent out a search party in all parts of New York. Or better yet, maybe she’d even join forces with Cindy.
A hiss across the room steals your attention and you look up as the reinforced doors slide open. Boots click against the concrete floor, and you can hardly hold back a growl as your least favorite woman comes into view. Ana Kravinoff steps inside wearing the same black tactical gear under a dark hunting jacket. Her expression carries the same amused smile you’d seen when you’d found her in your apartment, as if this were all just some game to her. Which it probably was. She hadn’t come out unscathed from the scuffle in your apartment—dried blood crusted around her nose from where you’d bashed your head back into her face, a collection of scrapes around her temple, a darkening bruise on her jawline.
Behind her, two mercenaries walk in, their eyes hidden behind black shades as they carry twin equipment cases. You watch as they set these equipment cases on a smooth black table, then watch as Ana dismisses them both with a wordless wave of her hand. They leave through the doors and they slide closed behind them.
Ana folds her arms behind her back. “I was wondering when you would wake, little spider,”
A facetious smirk plays on your lips. “Well, you know, I was just so comfortable in these chains. Slept like a baby, didn’t wanna get up,”
Ana chuckles. “You are so spirited. So feisty. I must say you are my most entertaining capture,”
You scoff. “If you’re aiming for flattery here, you’re grossly off the mark,”
“I am not one for flattery, little spider,” Ana says as she begins circling like a predator stalking their prey. “And supergeroi like you never listen to big bad like me,”
You follow Ana’s movements carefully. “So is this the part where you tell me your master plan? You know, your whole speech about how you want to finish what your father couldn’t and how somehow you need to capture all spider-people for that? You know, since I already seem so well-versed in what you’re going to say, why don’t we just fast forward to the fight, cut the fat? Though, it won’t really be a fair fight with me all restrained and whatnot,”
Ana stops directly in front of you. “You joke and you like to talk. Just like dark-haired friend of yours,”
Your body goes rigid at that. Even though Kate didn’t seem to be Ana’s target anymore, it’s clear she’d looked into her, at least a little. You’d give Ana that—she knew how to shut you up.
Ana keeps talking. “I have studied you for months, lurking in shadows where you can’t see me, where your little spider-sense can’t seem to reach. You throw yourself between strangers and certain death. You fall head over heels in love for girl with bow. You believe everyone deserves saving,”
Your jaw clenches. “Sounds like you’ve done your homework,”
Ana smiles wickedly. “Da,” she says simply, then she turns and walks back over to the table where her equipment cases still lie waiting. She slowly lifts the lid of one. Inside rests a row of glass vials filled with emerald liquid that shimmer beneath the fluorescent lights.
“New toys?” You ask.
Ana carefully lifts one vial. “This…” she turns so that the green liquid catches the light. “…is evolution. I have spent years perfecting it,” she admires the vial almost lovingly. “It strips away hesitation,” she looks back at you. “It removes doubt…” another step closer. “…it frees instinct,”
You pull against your restraints. “Can you stop talking in riddles and just say it straight?” You say, forcing confidence that you didn’t feel into your voice.
Ana holds a syringe next to the vial. “You and I are remarkably alike, you know,”
You huff out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I highly fucking doubt that,”
“No? You don’t think?” Ana tilts her head. “We are both hunters. You simply hunt to protect,”
“I wouldn’t call what I do hunting,” you spit. “I save the world from maniacs like you, that’s what I do. You capture heroes to use as your playthings for your family’s fucked up honor. We are not the same,”
Ana purses her lips as she begins drawing the glowing serum into the syringe. Green liquid fills the chamber. “We are one degree of separation away from each other, are we not, little spider? And with the right motivation, I believe you could be every bit the predator my father would’ve regaled,”
The right motivation?
“I don’t want to be like you or your psycho father,” you argue. “I’m a hero,”
“Are you sure?”
You glare at her. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
Ana approaches until only inches separate you. “I know that you are about to become everything you seem to hate,” the needle glints beneath the lights. “I’d like to see you save yourself from this,”
You inhale sharply. Your Spider-Sense comes to you as a whisper, not the blaring alarm you typically depended on, but a tiny spark prickling across the back of your neck. One word over and over. Move.
Without warning, you throw your entire weight sideways. The left restrain shrieks as the anchor plate rips halfway out of the concrete wall. Ana takes one quick step back. You hit the wall shoulder first and immediately kick off of it, twisting with everything you had. The second pull is stronger. Concrete explodes outward. You manage to get one wrist free, and before Ana can react, you swing the dangling length of the chain like a whip.
The heavy cuff crashes against the syringe, knocking it out of Ana’s hand. Glass shatters, green serum splashing all over the floor. Ana’s mask actually slips for a moment, her face hardening into a scowl of irritation. She swears in Russian.
While she’s distracted, you use your free hand to reach for the restraint on your other wrist. But then a deafening crack fills the room. Electricity surges through the remaining restraint, making you cry out in pain. Thousands of volts rip through your body. Every muscle seizes and your screams bounce off the concrete walls as white-hot pain consumes your vision.
When the current finally stops, it leaves you hanging limp, breathing hard, smoke curling from the fabric of your suit. “You’re…really starting to…piss me off with that…electric shock thing…” you huff. “….feels like…cheating…”
“I would say it is payback for you breaking my things,” Ana says calmly as she kneels beside the shattered syringe. “What a shame,” she goes on, picking up one of the larger glass fragments. Green liquid still clung to its edges. “But no matter. You have only delayed the inevitable,”
Ana rises to her feet, flashing you a menacing smile before crossing the room again. You blink heavily, your brain telling you to keep your eyes on her. Just keep your eyes on Ana.
“Silly spider, that was merely the first sample,” Ana loads a fresh syringe. A single emerald droplet slides from the tip of the needle. “You may not believe me, but I was hoping to avoid having to damage you,”
You don’t have the strength to pull against your remaining restraints as Ana takes a few steps toward you, the new syringe in tow. “Any closing remarks, little spider?” she asks.
You gather together enough energy to meet her eyes. “Fuck. You.”
One corner of Ana’s mouth lifts. Then, without another word, she grabs your jaw. The needle plunges into the side of your neck and a burning sensation explodes beneath your skin. You cry out as emerald veins race outward from the injection site, branching across your collarbone before disappearing beneath the fabric of your suit. It feels like molten metal flooding your bloodstream.
You yelp as every nerve ignites. Your Spider-Sense erupts in a deafening chorus of overlapping alarms that refused to stop. Faces flash through your mind: Kate, Cindy, Lucky, Aunt May. Your apartment, the skyline outside Murray’s. The backyard of Cindy’s safehouse where you’d kissed Kate for the first time. Kate again.
Kate. I have to make it out of here for Kate. You squeeze your eyes shut. Kate’s name echoes like a lifeline.
“I won’t…” you gritted your teeth. “I won’t let you…”
The burning intensifies and you grunt against the pain. Something presses against the edges of your thoughts. A sound, no a voice. No, a memory? Images began fluttering behind your vision, and most of them were of Kate. Kate’s smile, Kate’s voice, Kate’s warmth, Kate’s hands. And then your own voice coming back to you in echo and reverb, telling Kate. “I’ll be right back…”
Then your voice turns into Kate’s voice, telling you over and over, “Fight it…fight it…fight it!” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying, trying to keep Kate’s face in mind, her voice. You promised her. You promised her you’d come back. You promised…
Your mind suddenly slips blessedly blank and when your eyes open again, luminous rings of green circle your irises. Ana tilts her head, assessing you. Then a wicked grin spreads across her face.
“Can you hear me, Spider-Woman?” She asks.
“Yes.” You reply, your voice steely.
“If I let you loose, will you attack me?”
“No.”
Ana nods before stepping forward to loosen the restraint on the wrist that’s still pinned along with your ankles. “There are two people headed this way,” Ana says once she’s freed you. “A girl with a bow, and a girl in a suit a lot like yours,”
You look down at your worn suit and then back at Ana, your face remaining blank.
“I will need you to deal with these two girls,” Ana says. “Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
Ana’s smile widens like a cat with a canary. “You will do nicely, Spider-Woman. All you need to do is listen to everything I say.”
***
Kate, in a word, was uncomfortable.
Well, she’d been uncomfortable since finding out you’d been captured, but here on this subway train was a different kind of uncomfortable. The little boy sitting across from her and Cindy was staring in that way little kids often do. He couldn’t have been any older than eight. His oversized round glasses magnified his eyes to an almost comical degree, making them seem twice the normal size. Without blinking even once, he continues silently nibbling away on a strawberry Pop-Tart. He reminded Kate a lot from that know-it-all boy from The Polar Express.
Without moving anything except her lips, Cindy leans toward Kate. "...You see the creepy little boy too, right?"
Kate didn't even glance back. "Unfortunately."
The boy takes another bite of his Pop-Tart, still with the same incredibly unnecessary eye contact. Kate slowly reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone so she won't have to look at the freaky little boy anymore. The screen displays a blinking map. Kate bounces her leg anxiously as she stares at it.
"Any updates?" Cindy asks, peering over Kate's shoulder.
"The dot still hasn't moved, but..." Kate zooms in on the map. "It looks like Ana has her in another abandoned industrial district,"
"Sounds about on par for Ana," Cindy says. "She loves herself a ship dock or an industrial unit,"
Kate feels her blood boil all over again just thinking of the supervillain. She's never felt bloodlust before, but she imagined it felt a lot like this. Something inside her telling her she could take Ana on with her bare hands if it meant getting you back. The train began to slow, and an automated voice echoes through the subway car announcing the stop.
"Let's get off here," Cindy says, glancing at the blinking dot on Kate's phone once more before standing. "This is close enough,"
Cold air greets them as they climb the station stairs. The city above is quieter than usual. Few streetlights, even fewer people, and entire block of abandoned warehouses stretching not far ahead, their rusted loading docks swallowed by shadows. Kate checks the tracker again. "We're close."
Cindy adjusts the backpack slung over one shoulder. "You've got arrows?"
Kate pats her quiver. "Yeah. More than enough. I wanna take this bitch down."
"Good."
They start toward the largest warehouse on the block, but every instinct Cindy possessed screamed that something felt...off. Wrong. Her own Spider-Sense comes as a dull ache in the back of her skull and she holds her arm out in front of Kate, stopping her.
"What?" Kate asks, impatient.
"I don't like this," Cindy says.
"Yeah, I don't like it either. Y/n is in there—“
"No, I mean it's too quiet," Cindy explains. "This is Ana Kravinoff we're talking about. There should be guards, patrol, tripwires. We could be walking into a trap,"
Kate swallows hard, glances at the map again. "Well, we're practically on top of them now. We have to go in. We'll just be...extra stealthy,"
Cindy nods. "You do everything I say. Don't move until I tell you to. Got it?"
"Got it."
They approach a grimy side entrance. One of the warehouse windows has been shattered long ago, leaving a jagged opening just large enough to peek through. Cindy carefully crouches beneath it. She raises a finger. "Okay," she whispers. "Wait for my signal,"
Kate nods, but then she makes the mistake of glancing through the broken window, and her heart lurches in her chest. There you were, still wearing your torn Spider-suit. Bruises covered your arms and one of your wrists was restrained above your head by a heavy steel cuff. Your head hung low, motionless. Kate felt her heart physically stop.
Cindy follows her gaze. "Shit, y/n..." she murmurs.
Kate's blood roars in her ears. Every emotion she could possibly feel were all fighting for dominance inside her. Worry, anger, hope, fury, sadness, love. You were here. And she could fix this, she swore she could. She takes a step toward the door, but Cindy grabs her arm. "Kate, wait,"
"We have to get her out." Kate says.
"Kate, I know, but listen, Ana is crafty. This could be the trap—“
"I don't care."
"You're not thinking clearly. I know you're worried, but just listen to me—“
Kate pulls free. "I can't just do nothing, Cindy. I'm getting her out of there!" Then, she takes off at a sprint, ignoring Cindy's "Kate, wait!" behind her.
Kate tries the warehouse door. Locked, of course. With a swear, she quickly reaches into her pocket, fumbling for her lockpicking tools. Tongue peeking between lips, she jimmies the lock until she manages to get the springs free, then throws herself through the warehouse door. It slams open with a deafening crash. "Spider-Woman!" The cavernous room echoes her voice. Kate's eyes dart wildly around. Empty aside from a few industrial tables and you still suspended a few feet above the ground.
"Oh my god..." Kate rushes across the concrete floor. "I was so worried, y/n!" Her hands immediately search the one restraint for release. Her heart lurches yet again as she realizes you must've tried to get free and been unsuccessful. "Are you alright? I mean, no, obviously you're not alright. You've been kidnapped. But I'm here now, okay? I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner. God, I should've gone with you. I know you told me not to, but I should've. I could've helped you. I could've taken that bitch, I know it."
Kate manages to get the restraint free and relief blooms in her heart. And when you began to fall, she caught you, bringing you back down to the ground. "I thought..." her voice cracks. "I don't even wanna say what I thought, but I... god, I imagined the worst. I never wanna let you out of my sight again. I want to protect you,"
Your arms slowly lower to your sides and for several seconds, you don't move. Kate gently cups your face. "Hey, it's okay. We're getting you out of here,"
You slowly raise your head. Kate brushes it aside a few errant hairs. "It's okay," she says again. "I promise. Everything is gonna be okay,"
Behind the two of you, Cindy steps cautiously into the warehouse, every muscle tense. "Is that..." she murmurs. Then, her eyes widen. "Kate, get away from her."
Kate ignores her.
"Kate, I'm serious, get away from her! She's been injected. She's—“
Too late. Your hand shoots upward with impossible speed, fingers wrapping around Kate's throat. Kate's eyes widen.
"Y/n...?"
Kate is lifted completely off the ground as though she weighs nothing. Her feet kick helplessly several inches above concrete. You look up slowly, movements mechanical, and it's then that Kate sees the thin emerald rings that glow around your eyes. Completely devoid of recognition. Completely empty.
Kate chokes as she stares back into the face of the woman she loves, finding nothing looking back. You tilt your head ever so slightly and when you speak, it's emotionless. "Target identified. Neutralizing threat."
The pressure around Kate's throat tightens. Black spots crowd the edges of her vision. "Y-y/n, please..." she coughs. “…it’s me,”
A sharp thwip cuts through the warehouse. A strand of white webbing snaps around your wrist.
"Let her go!" Cindy shouts, planting both feet and yanking with all her strength. The sudden pull wrenches your arm sideways just enough for Kate to slip free. Kate hits the concrete hard, coughing violently as precious air rushes back into her lungs. She rolls onto her hands and knees, clutching her throat.
Your robotic gaze settles on the web wrapped around your wrist before snapping it with a single flex.
Cindy's eyes widen. "Well, that's terrifying,"
You lunge for her, crossing the distance between in the blink of an eye, fist rocketing toward Cindy's face. Cindy barely ducks in time. The punch sails over her shoulder and smashes into a concrete pillar behind her. The impact sends spiderweb of cracks racing across the column and chunks of concrete rain onto the warehouse floor.
Kate stares from her spot on the ground, more emotions warring inside her. Because yes, her almost-girlfriend had just tried to kill her due to some sort of weird mind control but wasn't she also kind of hot?
"Join in on the action any time, Bishop!" Cindy calls before flipping backward to avoid a spinning kick.
Kate stands to her feet, shaky hand reaching for her bow. But as she watches the fight, she feels frozen, feet rooted to her spot. Before Kate could move, you catch Cindy's next punch mid-swing and yank her forward. You slip an arm around Cindy's neck, locking her in a crushing headlock. Cindy plants her feet again and tries to pry the arm away, but it barely budges.
"Kate!" she shouts.
Kate reaches for her bow, her eyes trained on you. Across the room, your face remains eerily blank. But it was still your face. The same lips she'd kissed, the same eyes she’d gazed into (minus the weird green irises), the same hands she'd held. The same woman she'd fallen asleep snuggled up to after movie nights. How could she reconcile that with the fighting machine you'd seemingly been turned into thanks to dirty science? How was she supposed to take you down with arrows?
Her hand trembles over her quiver. "I don't...I don't want to hurt her..."
"Well, would you rather her hurt me? Because that's what's happening right now!" Cindy retorts before winding her head back, bashing it into your face to get you off of her. "It's not y/n right now! Ana did something to her!"
You crouch, ready to lunge at the two of them. Kate makes a decision. She reaches over her shoulder, her fingers wrapping around the shaft of a trick arrow. With a practiced motion, she nocks it against the bowstring. The familiar weight steadies her shaking hands. She exhales slowly, drawing the string back. Come on, y/n, she thinks to herself. Fight it.
She fires a stun arrow. It strikes your shoulder, releasing a burst of energy that disorients you. Kate exploits the hesitation, firing another arrow before you can fully recover, this one a net arrow. It whistles through the air, blossoming into a strong adhesive that wraps around your legs, sending you crashing to the ground. You thrash against the entanglement with a growl.
Kate, seeing the momentary advantage, doesn’t hesitate. She takes a deep breath, her voice cutting through the snarls and the tearing fabric of the net. She calls out a word she knows you’ll recognize, hoping it’ll cut through the fog of your mind control. “Y/n! Marco!”
The thrashing pauses. Your head slowly lifts, glowing eyes locking onto Kate’s. For a fraction of a second, the malevolent glow seems to dim, a flicker of something familiar in their depths. The struggle against the net eases, a silent, almost imperceptible shift in your demeanor. A tiny window, but it’s there.
Kate takes a step closer, her voice barely above a whisper. Tears have begun to well in her eyes as a surge of hope courses through her. “It’s me, it’s just me,” she pleads. “You’re in there, y/n. I know you are,” she takes another cautious step forward. “Remember our breakfasts at Murray’s? Remember walking Lucky in Central Park? Remember our movie nights and how we always order orange chicken even though you don’t really like it, but you get it because you know I do? Remember us? Remember…me?”
Your body has gone still, your gaze turning the slightest bit docile as you stare at Kate. But as quickly as it appears, the flicker of recognition in your eyes vanishes, replaced by the same cold, predatory glow. A guttural roar rips from your throat and you renew your struggle against the net with terrifying force. The fibers begin to strain and tear under your assault. The serum seems to be fighting back, reclaiming hold.
“It’s not enough, Kate. We have to try something else,” Cindy says, eyeing you wearily.
Kate acts quickly, nocking another specialized arrow, and with a sharp exhale, she fires.
The arrow strikes the ground with a deafening CRACK, unleashing a concussive shockwave. The air seems to ripple, throwing all three of you back. In the process, you get slammed against the ground, the impact combined with the sonic assault knocking you unconscious.
There’s silence, broken only by a high-pitched ringing. Kate, with her own ears buzzing, pushes herself up, scrambling forward on hands and knees toward you. She reaches you, carefully turning your head, cupping your face in her hands. “Y/n? Please wake up. Remember me. Please,” her voice is raw with urgency.
A gasp suddenly tears from your throat as you come to. Kate exhales a relieved breath and Cindy is at your other side in an instant, the two girls working together to help you sit up.
“…Kate? Cindy? You guys came? You…”
“Hey, easy,” Cindy says, a hand on your shoulder when she noticed you trying to move too quickly.
“Are you okay?” Kate asks, even though she knows it’s a rhetorical question.
“Are you okay?” You levy the question right back at her, hands reaching out as if searching Kate for injuries, wincing when you see the marks around her neck. “Did I…?”
“Ana put you under some sort of mind control,” Cindy cuts in, gesturing to the injection sight in your neck. “You weren’t conscious of what you were doing,”
Your memory crashed back in at once. The break-in. Fighting Ana. A fuzzy image of a green serum and then…nothing.
“Oh my god, guys. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t…I would’ve never…oh my god…”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Kate reaches out to steady you, hands sliding down your arms. “We got you back, that’s all that matters. We’re gonna get you out of here. We’re gonna get Ana,”
“Kate,” you started. “I wanted to protect you. I still want to protect you. I don’t know if you going up against Ana is…the best approach,”
“What?” Kate’s brows furrowed.
“Actually, I wouldn’t count her out so fast,” Cindy says. “I mean, she held her own against you pretty well,”
You look between Cindy and Kate, raising a brow despite yourself. “Okay, suddenly the two of you are best friends and you want her around? I must’ve been out longer than I thought,”
“I mean, I still don’t think I’m a fan of the way she runs in guns blazing,” Cindy casts Kate a look, and Kate has the decency to look sheepish. “But…I think without that, we wouldn’t have been able to save you, so…maybe she’s good for something. Or maybe she’s just in love with you,”
“Two things can be true,” Kate says, her voice going soft as she smiles at you. You smile back, affection for the archer blooming in your chest and everywhere.
“Okay, before you two start making bedroom eyes at each other,” Cindy says. “Y/n, do you have any idea where Ana might’ve went? I’m getting the sense that this whole thing was a big diversion,”
“Uh, I…” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to sort through fragmented memories. “It’s all fuzzy.” Bits and pieces were still resurfacing. Ana pacing, two little minions coming in to distribute her serum. A half-remembered supervillain monologue. Snips of direction that came through after the serum kicked in.
“Docks…” you manage. Another memory clicks into place. “She mentioned a base of operations near the docks. That’s all I can remember.”
“It’s enough,” Cindy says as she grabs you under one arm. Kate grabs you under the other and they heft you to your feet. “That’s where we’re headed next,”
Kate looks at you warily as you drag your mask back over your face. “Are you sure you’re okay to keep going?” She asks, reaching down to take your hand in hers. You look back at her, seeing every reason why you should keep going in those blue eyes.
“I’m sure,” you reply, squeezing Kate’s hand. “Time to end this.” and then you swing your gaze toward Cindy. “Let’s go get this bitch.”
Tags: momily, established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, season 7 emily, no use of yn
Request: here! Celebrate 2k with me!
Word count: 0.8k
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When Emily had imagined this—and she often did—she imagined there'd be tears and impossibly tight hugs, about a million I love you's and I'm sorry's, too many wet, desperate kisses to keep count of. And she wasn't off the mark, but she didn't expect that you'd smell different, too. That you'd feel a little softer, that something about your eyes would change—their light dimmed out, the skin under them inky dark in a way that feels permanent.
She didn't expect to flinch at the sound of her own daughter's cry.
It's a sharp wail, a thunderclap of a sound, unfamiliar to Emily's ears. It rings from the monitor propped up on the coffee table and she can't hide the way she sucks in a breath, half gasp, half startled inhale. A skittish, porcelain fawn, shakenly searching for the source of the sound before finding it, before it sinks in, further, sharper, that she's a mother.
Your eyes are glassy as you wipe at her cheek. "It's okay, it's Vivian," you whisper. "She's probably just hungry."
Emily nods, her chin rising, dipping, rising, dipping. Vivian. Her baby. Her infant child who'd been born without one of her parents.
Her eyes brim with tears again.
"Can I—?" She rasps, the words collapsing, her throat clenching too tight. Emily tries again. "Can I see her?"
Your chin trembles, smile wobbling as you nod and take her hand. Emily clings to it. Your fingers slot together, as perfect as she last remembers, and it takes everything in her not to crumble, not to stand here and crush you to her chest until this feeling goes, until the cracks fuse over. She feels, again, like a broken doll as you both fit yourselves side by side in the narrow staircase, squeezing through when the space closes in too small, stubbornly refusing to let go.
Vivian's cries echo louder in the landing. Emily's heart clenches tight. You push open the nursery door and lead her in, your hand slipping out of hers as you near the bassinet. She can only watch, transfixed, as you reach down for your daughter, murmuring too quiet for her to hear.
You scoop her up, cradle her against your chest, and Emily's breath catches. The room is dim, her vision blurry, and Vivian is so, so small. Just a tiny little thing, quieting as she crumples into your arms. You gently rock her, smoothing over her dark hair, whispering feather-soft into her forehead. You look so natural doing it.
Of course. Of course you would be.
Emily finds herself stepping closer. You glance at her over your shoulder, almost as if you forgot that she's there.
"Is she okay?" She croaks out.
You nod. "Just hungry," you murmur, shushing Vivian when she lets out a little whimper, muffled into your chest. The sight thaws something in her and simultaneously presses, new pressure on her lungs, nearly crushing. She can feel her heart, thrumming as hard and frantic as a hummingbird's wings.
Emily wets her lips. "Can I…" she clears her throat, swallows, "Can I take her?"
Your face shifts, crumpling, and she hates instantly herself, for asking, for leaving, for dragging you into this big fucking—
"She's yours, Emily," you say hoarsely. "You don't…" your voice cracks, and you shake your head, swallowing. "She's yours."
Hers. This little girl, curled into your chest, her weight so slight as Emily takes her. She hardly weighs anything at all, but Emily's arms feel so boneless, entirely uncapable. She shouldn't be able to hold her up, Emily thinks.
But she does.
Vivian roots into her chest, immediately trusting, and Emily—she forces in a breath through her cramped lungs, trembling as she tightens her grip on her daughter. Her daughter whose age she doesn't know. She almost expects to drop her straight to the ground, but somehow Vivian stays, firmly cinched in Emily's arms, whimpering into her chest. It gears into a louder cry that snaps you out of your daze.
"I'll go get her bottle," you mumble, squeezing her elbow.
She nods and watches you leave, instinctively rubbing Vivian's back. She shifts her grip on her, adjusts her higher on her chest, cupping a hand to the back of her neck. Her hair is silk-soft under Emily's fingers; it dampens with the tears running down her cheeks. Similar tears wet Vivian's face, hot and slippery when Emily wipes at them.
"It's okay, Vivian," she whispers. Her voice is low and cracked and entirely unsoothing, but Vivian goes a little quieter at the sound of it. "Hi. Hey, honey. You're okay. Mommy's coming." Emily falters, looking down at her tear-soaked eyes.
Hesitantly, she presses her lips to Vivian's head. The smell of her shampoo drifts to Emily's nose, makes its way down to her lungs and stays there. She breathes in and lets her eyes fall closed.
the "i got shot, and you didn't call" obviously was about the emotional consequences of that, about lestat sitting by himself in the tour bus after he was forced to let go of his human friends with no one to comfort him, not the physical danger he was in, let's use our brains for a moment
There are many valid criticisms to be had about the writing on TVL. It should be a more diverse writers room. There are absolutely biases in the writing - as their biases in all writing. That should be discussed. That should be addressed.
And to be clear those diverse voices shouldn't just be there to write for Louis. They should be there to contribute to entirety of the plot just like Anusree Roy should absolutely be back as a voice to add authenticity to Armand while also getting to write about stuff that has nothing to do with him as she did this season.
That said: I do think other criticism about the structure, plotting, and pacing is less to do with objectively bad writing vs. what people got compared to what people thought they were going to get compared to what they wanted to get.
It sucks when that happens. It sucks when you have expectations for a show and that's not what you get. It sucks when you think you could do better. It sucks when you have scenes from a book that you really want to see and it's decided by other people that isn't something they want to focus on. It does not inherently make the writing bad.
Most importantly, beyond that, it doesn't make Rolin Jones evil. It doesn't make Hannah Moscovitch evil. It doesn't make Daniel Hart evil. It doesn't make Ryan Kattner evil. It doesn't make Kevin Hanna, Anusree Roy, or Jonathan Ceniceroz evil. It might make them writers you don't enjoy. Cool! I have loads of those. It might mean the show is made by people you don't enjoy - fair. It happens.
But I implore you to temper your language. Some people are going WAY too far in calling for firings, violence, weird parasocial stuff in real life that is volatile and dangerous. Whatever you think that's going to achieve, it's not going to do it. At best, AMC decides it's not worth the hassle and cancels the show. At worst, someone gets really, really hurt.
Do we have to be reminded about what went down at SDCC last go around?
the idea that every summer will be as hot if not hotter than this for the rest of my life is unbearable i need to (remembers suicide jokes are bad for my mental health) murder an oil executive
