Until The Avengers came out in 2012, I hadn’t written fic in 5 years. Jessy was one of the first to read my new stuff, and her encouragement and kind words over the years has been more valuable than I can adequately express and has kept me going when words and inspiration at times seem to fail. So in honor of her birthday, a tiny Winterwidow ficlet (because, as I said to Audrey, I am completely incapable of disembarking from the Bucky Barnes train, in contrast to the man himself (THiddles: *ba-dum-tish*).
If you do not follow her (romanovasledger) you should because she is awesome and runs a kickass Blackfrost tumblr, one of the few Doctor Who blogs that I follow because it focuses positively on ALL of the ladies of New Who, and, of course, one dedicated to the glorious Natasha Romanov.
Two Drums from the Grey (Rated T for references to their horrible pasts)
It’s the punch the wakes him, not Natasha breaking into his motel room or approaching his bed, not her reaching out to touch him, foolish, so foolish, her fingertips brushing against the hair that sticks to his forehead as he dreams, not even when his arm darts out and seizes her hand. His eyes dart beneath closed lids, still caught in his dream. His breath quickens and his grip intensifies. She has maybe five seconds before her bones start to break.
So she punches him, violence their shared vocabulary. At least the one they know.
Found here on AO3.
A sniper takes a shot at Natasha Romanoff. Half a world away, a woman with her face steps in front of a train in St. Petersburg. And out in the middle of nowhere in Saskatchewan, Clint Barton comes face to face with a woman who looks just like his old friend - down to the shade of her eyes.
The people who trained her always had a back-up plan. Finally, they’ve perfected their new Black Widow — and her first mission is to kill the others.
(Source: officerbobrovsky, via lariagwyn)
#this is just such a fucking sassy remark like#it sounds like something my mother would say to my spoiled sister#i never really stopped to think about it before but damn steve#it’s almost childish you are being a chiLD (via marvelobsessions)
That’s why I love it so much though. Because it’s so, so easy to forget this — SHIELD constantly forgets this — but Steve *is* a child. He was twenty-six years old and terrified when he died. And to him, that was maybe ten days ago. Just — ten days ago, he died. Eleven days ago, he watched his best friend and protector fall to his death in a clusterfuck he will always believe was his fault. Ten days ago, he died while the listening to Peggy cry on the other end of a static-filled radio. Ten days ago, he was still in 1945. He was supposed to leave it; it wasn’t supposed to leave him. And he woke up, and everyone he loved was gone, and now he’s confronted with an agency that’s lying to him about everything and he’s just found in their storage facility the exact weapon that killed the person he loved most and he’s arguing with a man who looks far too much like someone he called a friend, who he knows now is dead, who died violently in a car crash, and he doesn’t know Tony well enough to know this is how he deals with fear, so to him, this is just…someone with money, with all the privilege and padding he and Bucky never had, who would never have to go to war if he didn’t want to, making light of a situation way too close to Steve’s chest.
Steve was being prickly as hell through most of this movie, but he was bleeding out and in pain and had no one to bleed on. The comment he makes to Tony, about knowing guys with none of that worth ten of him? Imagine all of the people he was thinking about then. All of the people he knew he’d never see again; who he wished he wasn’t standing there to never see again. Trying to organize a time bomb and remembering the Commandos. Trying to co-lead with a man he doesn’t yet understand, and remembering Bucky. Trying so hard not to keep seeing him fall. Being expected to be above all of those messy human emotions, because he’s Captain America, and while he was asleep that name became a legend so much bigger than any real, living person could be.
He’s only twenty-six.
I just made myself sad.
(Source: bloodtraitor, via cardeakelsey)
“My first play was in Nigeria. It was Alice in Wonderland, and I remember having a blast, but I wasn’t actually an “actor” as a kid. I just learned to adapt to different situations because we moved around so much. My mom has an English accent, so we always referred to the trunk as the “boot.” And then, suddenly, we moved to Georgia and I would say things like “open the boot” with a bit of an accent, and I quickly realized I had to adapt; that kind of thing will get you beat up! Once I developed a sense of my identity, it became fun to play around with those cultural differences.”
(Source: jessicaisgray, via lariagwyn)
I love playing Brienne of Tarth because, when I was growing up, I didn’t really see people on television that I felt that I could identify with. Women all looked kind of a particular way, women characters that were popular, anyway. And when I had the opportunity to play this part, it made me explore the parts of myself I had hidden from. I had very long hair. I wanted to look very feminine, really tall. (x)
(Source: rubyredwisp, via sachas-ashes)