wall of valor

  • Willow: Blanche, you will lead Team Mystic and show the value of wisdom.
  • Willow: Candela, as leader of Team Valor, your aim is to show the true strength of your Pokémon.
  • Spark, approaching from behind: [claps Willow on the back] What've you got for me, chief?
  • Willow: Spark! Uh...
  • Willow: You're the comic relief.
  • Spark, grinning: Can do, sugartits! [to Candela] Heh, I'm hilarious!
Something I Need: Part Two

bucky barnes x doctor/genius reader

SUMMARY:

The greatest asset HYDRA could ever attain - you. You had spent nearly 3 years within the cold walls of the rebirth of the organization. You had heard stories your whole life of HYDRA, even from your Father - now you were captured by them. You kept your distance all these years, but now they found you - they classified you as this generation’s brightest doctor. You were sure you were going to die in those walls until they came. Earth’s Mightiest Heroes - the very individuals you had spent your life studying now kept you in their protection. Within the month of your rescue, Steve Rogers - Captain America had given you your first task…
Bucky Barnes.

Word Count: 5,090 (SORRY ITS SO LONG OMG lol)

Notes: FLUFF, Angst, Bucky’s trigger words :( Tension

let me know what you think :)

tag list is full, sorry! :(

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TO WONDER; Chapter Two, History’s Greatest Wonder

Summary: Studying art history abroad was supposed to be easy. It’s the second semester of your Freshman year. Meeting a gorgeous woman was a thought in the back of your head. This gorgeous woman having deadly secrets of her own wad not a thought in the back of your head.

Word Count: 9,639

Pairing: Diana Prince x Reader; Wonder Woman x Reader

A/N: So, this will be a, uh, story? A series? I’m not sure yet. I do have the third chapter started. This is a long chapter. I just kind of went with it? Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it! Thanks :)

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The Louvre is full. More so than yesterday. You patiently wait near the statue of Aphrodite. A quick glance at your phone lets you know its 10 minutes past 12. All the ‘what ifs’ run through you mind like a guinea pig on a wheel. You begin to think she stood you up or just plain forgot about you. You grab your stuff slowly, hoping she will appear if you go slow enough. No show once everything was in your arms. You venture to the exit.

Your walk was slow. Your hope slowly going away as despair and anger filled you. The crisp air couldn’t bother you with the sun beating down. A beautiful combination. A wonderful day for art. Your mood keeps you from staying at the Louvre, wanting to get as far away from there as possible.

The streets are full of people hustling around. Some to are going to work, others to breakfast. The teens are walking off to who knows where, then there was you. Walking slowly, with dismay on your face. She could have been flirting to make you feel better, playing at your heart strings you think to yourself. Even more crushing is the fact you won’t be able to see the behind the scenes and learn more about what the Louvre has to offer.

You slow your walking, to the point you just stop and stare. There is this wall on an old brick building, dedicated to the late Superman. Low quality photos civilians have taken of him flying by. Some from the conference that took a drastic right turn into turmoil. Grainy pictures of what seems to be an average man interacting with normal, everyday people. It really makes you think, how many amazingly talented, superhero like people you have crossed paths with in the past.

A simple memorial means everything to people who’s lives have been affected by this one man who never asked to be the world’s martyr. You guess this world is as much of your home as it is his. Well, was his.

You look around, realizing you have never been around here before. You notice across the street a vendor selling flowers. You dig in your pocket to see if you have enough change. Crossing the street you look over the selection of flowers being offered for sell. You pay the vendor for the bouquet of flowers and walk back over to the wall of valor for a single man. A simple bow holding the bohquet together. Laying down the flowers next to the others surrounding the large portrait of the godly man, you step back to take it all in. A man that you’ve never met affects your life more than you’ve ever could imagine.

“Chrysanthemum, meaning a wonderful friend, cheerfulness, and rest. Cattail, meaning peace and prosperity. Iris, meaning your friendship means a lot, faith, hope, wisdom, and valor. Tell me miss, did you know him personally?” The little old ladies curiousity brought the attention of the crowd to you. Panic begins to fill your chest as you try to find a way to dismiss the crowd.

“He’s a friend to everyone. A savior to all. He gave us hope, faith, and peacefulness. I may not have known him personally, but in my heart it felt like I did.” You clear your throat with the intense air surrounding the crowd.

You smile at the lady, and begin to push your way out of the crowd. Your feet carrying you faster than when you first started your journey to, well, wherever your feet take you.

You stop your journey at a little café on the corner of a busy street. You stare inside the window of the shop. You can see the reflections of everyone behind you and across the street. You watch them walk by, oblivious to everything as their heads are shoved deeply in their phones.

One woman is wearing brown sandals with a red, flowery summer dress. The wind blowing it gently around her. Her long blonde hair getting stuck to her glossy lips. Another woman wearing a baggy t-shirt with ripped jeans and dirty vans. A man business arguing with someone on his phone, French pouring out of his mouth like a rapid river.

A woman exits the building behind you, long brown hair that could be mistaken for black as it flows in the gentle breeze. Her face obscured due to her looking down at the ground mostly. A tan coat wraps around her long legs. What catches your eye is her shoes, they look more like boots. Boots covered in metal. Red and gold shine brightly as the sun danced against the metal. The lady walks fast, weaving in and out of people. You turn to watch her go, feeling a strange pull towards this lady. You soon realize everyone has stopped what they were doing, as if frozen in time.

You hear the sound of heels clicking fast towards you. You manage to turn to your right only to be surprised. Diana was dressed in a gorgeous white dress. Once again in killer heels that make you ache in sympathy. Her hair braid around her head in a crown with little diamond hair pins throughout the braid. The pins give the allusion of a crown for royalty, something she could definitely rock and deserve.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. Something came up and I was needed else where. Please accept my apology as I did not mean to make you wait. Or leave for that matter.” She looks at you with such sincerity that you can’t do anything but accept her apology.

“I just felt uncomfortable with all those people around. Needed some fresh air. Besides, I’ve never been around here before. Been site seeing actually. Quite interesting here. Also, if I knew there was a café near by then I wouldn’t starve the whole day while I was sketching.” You grin up at her, trying to ease her guilt. Her blinding smile returning, bringing warmth inside of you.

“Are you hungry now? We can grab something here. I hear they have quite fantastic food here. Would you like to join me for this meal?” She asked, grin speaking volumes of her emotions.

“What, in like a date kind of way?” You smirk at her face when she realizes what she might of implied. “Well, I thought you’d never ask. After you, my majesty.” Opening the door for her, you laugh at her expression. She’s most likely flabbergasted at your change of emotion in such a short time.

Diana gracefully enters the café, dominance flowing out of her. She commands the whole rooms attention and respect without a word being said. She crosses the room to a secluded booth towards the back of the room. You hurry to catch up as she gestures for you to take a seat on the opposite side.

Just after sitting, a small, bubbly blonde comes up to your table.

“Bonjour! May I take ya orders?” Her heavy south accent is something you haven’t heard in a long while. The states have people of all kinds. Not many workers here in France have an American accent. The accent is quite refreshing to hear.

“A coffee with lots of creamer and lots of sugar. Never can go too wrong with sweet coffee. Especially after a long day.” You look to Diana, as she stares at you.

She orders, not glancing away for a second. “Coffee. Black with two sugars, please.” Her eyes seem to turn golden in the sunlight coming in from the window. Once the waitress left, Diana set her hands on the table, gently folded.

“So, Y/F/N, how long have you been here in France?”

You think a moment, trying to remember when you arrived with your group. “I think around 2 months. Actually, no, 3 months. Yes, 3 months. The is my 1st month here. We’ve been studying at the Louvre. Of course most is on your own time while we go and do things as a group every other day usually. The professor is sick so some are meeting up as small groups while others do their own thing today. We’re here for another month before we fly back state side.”

The waitress comes back carrying both the coffees. “One black with two sugas, ‘nd one super sweet. A lady after my own ‘eart. Enjoy ladies!” She skips away, back behind the counter.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, I was wondering if we still get to do the tour? It doesn’t have to be today or anything. I’ll probably sketch something from the window of our hotel room.” You ask shyly, afraid to put a strain on your blooming relationship with this breath taking woman.

“Today is probably a bad day for me. Will tomorrow work for you?” Her relaxed body language maybe you believe maybe you didn’t mess it all up.

“Possibly. It would have to be in the morning. That afternoon I have class to go, hopefully.” You smile at her, hoping you get to hang out with her more and see all the beautiful art work he Louvre has to offer society.

You go to grab you cup when a sudden force shoves you out of your seat, sliding across the floor. Your ears ring, vision distorts. You try to focus on the moving colors. Suddenly everything comes back in force. Screams. High pitched screams everywhere. Next to you was the body of the blonde waitress who gave you and Diana your respected cups.

'Diana. Where’s Diana? She was right next to me. Across from me. Where is she.’ Your thoughts are sluggish as you try to look around, paining exploding all across your body. You curl up into a ball, sobbing in immense pain. You feel a strong arm grab around your stomach, sliding you back across the floor to the booth you were sitting at.

Someone is in your face. You manage to focus just enough to realize it’s Diana. Something about you’re safe here. Stay put and try not to move. Your senses dull back down as another wave of pain crashes over you. Red begins to fill your vision. Everything else has been shut out. 'Just survive. Just survive’ on repeat in your head.

You stare into the waitress’s unmoving eyes. Blue, blue as the ocean. On sunny days, the may have sparkled like the water. Now, now they are dull, almost gray. Your vision begins to tunnel, with only her eyes left in your site as you finally succumb to the numbing darkness.

  • Candela: I was thinking more like flat-out stealing from him.
  • Blanche: What? No way!
  • Candela: Why not? We already stole a boyfriend.
  • Spark: Hey, guys.
  • Blanche: No, we didn't. Spark's a consenting adult. He can do whatever he wants.
  • Spark: I want to steal.
Touch: Part Three

“You looked in disbelief, his frame now slipping into the drivers seat. He was the only one in control now. His eyes moved to you one last time, cold and distant.”                        

                                                      SUMMARY:

Tony stark was the only relative bold enough to take you in, leaving you no option but to up and move to the infamous avengers compound facility. You were no more than waitress, surrounded by the likeness of enhanced humans and super soldiers - making you the outcast of the living quarters. Within just your first couple of weeks, you strike a sense of emotional attachment to none other than the man you had heard about in the media - the winter soldier. In a moment of weakness and yet a moment of clarity, you find yourself awakening to something you had never felt before - the moment you lips had touched Bucky Barnes.

Bucky x Reader

Notes: Angst, Somewhat fluff, Small smutty part? maybe? let me know what you think, tags are at the end. :)

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Hiatus of SHIELD: Day 5

Skye loved animals.

She always has, and always will. So when she discovered the three tiny mice in FitzSimmons’ lab, she had to make sure they weren’t in danger.

“Wait, you guys keep actual lab mice?” Skye asked, slightly appalled.

“No!” Fitz nearly screamed. “No way! We’d never test on them, unless it was really urgent.”

Simmons continued with, “No way, they’ve been our pets since the Academy.”

“Do they have names?” Skye asked, picking up the nearest mouse.

“Yes! Oh, the one you’re holding is Pinky, this little guy,” Fitz explained, holding up the mouse nearest to him,“ Is Pokey, and the other guy is the Brain.”

“The Brain?” Skye laughed.

“He has the highest IQ test score,” Simmons answers.

Skye couldn’t even begin to imagine how they had tested that on the mice, but she didn’t question it.

From that day on, Fitz, Skye, and Simmons took care of the three mice together. They raced them, took care of them, and even gave them little pool parties in the sink.

Then came the alien disease. When the two scientists and the hacktivist realized that the mice were the only test subjects they had, the dark day got even worse. Sure, the mice were technically bred at the academy for testing, but to those three, Pinky, Pokey, and the Brain were three creatures they had bonded over.

As soon as they were sure Jemma was safe and sound, a mini-rat funeral was held for Pokey and the Brain, who died to save Simmons. Fitz even attempted to get them on the Wall of Valor, but apparently that was seen as ‘disrespectful to the fallen agents’.

So when Skye, held against her will on the Bus with Grant Ward, was sure she was alone, she scooped Pinky out of her habitat and into her pocket.

To Skye, that little mouse was more important to her than keeping Ward off of the hard drive.

That little mouse represented the good days, before Ward was evil, back when the team was really a team.

But maybe, in hindsight, it never was.

-

Sorry it’s late and kinda weird but woops I wrote a fic about that one post agents-of-frickle-frackle made ages ago.

2

MCU Ladies Week | Day 2: Unsung Hero | Raina

Who doesn’t like flowers?

Fight me.  At the end of the day, the tiny girl in the flower dress was in fact a hero.  She did some pretty non-heroic things along the way but in my humble and very biased opinion she was never a villain, only an antagonist, and while her being a gorgeous, slightly mystifying woman of color means that fandom at large has never rushed to romanticize her, it makes her just that more compelling.  Raina was self-interested by necessity (nobody else was going to take care of her if she didn’t take care of herself) and chaotic neutral to a fault, but she also wanted to be more, to be special.  Even though a rebuilt SHIELD Wall of Valor probably won’t sport her name and there might not be anyone to plant flowers at the grave she doesn’t have, she went out nobly to help our Daisy grow, and I can’t imagine a more appropriate resolution (if there indeed had to be one, which there did because Ruth got another job, but if that doesn’t pan out I would love a surprise twist not-really-dead!-line) or more beautiful redemption than that.

cannibithobbal-deactivated20170  asked:

Imagine Peggy was the one who ensured Bucky's name was added to the Wall of Valor.

It takes her far too long to notice its absence.

She’s ashamed when she does.

Enough Captain America memorabilia and monuments exist to make it difficult for Peggy to adjust to a life without a flesh-and-blood Steve.  Looking at them is painful.  She sees the proud jaw line and the fierce eyes of America’s patriot and wonders if these men know anything about the man behind the shield.  How his fingers would itch for a stub of pencil to settle his mind.  The way he would pause, a small crease in his brow, considering how to create lasting beauty. 

The artists haven’t gotten that part in stone, or the way his eyes would crinkle whenever he’d been feeling particularly impertinent.  No. 

It takes her ten years to face the statue in the Hall.  There had been quite the ruckus, whether it was right to put the face of one man so near to the wall that represented so many.  The critics had been appeased at the inscription carved in stone below:

To those whose sacrifices may never be known.

She thinks it appropriate.  Steve would have liked the thought, even if he wouldn’t have liked being the face of it.

It occurs to her only now, what is wrong.

Captain America stands, carved in white marble, fierce, proud, and alone.

Steve Rogers had never been alone.

Something takes ahold of her, some inexplicable madness.  She circles the statue, rereading the inscription, then walks the Hall twice, to be sure.

He’s not there.  It’s 1965, and beyond an empty grave in Brooklyn, he’s been forgotten.  Left to the frozen winter like a lost glove.

And that is a fate that does not suit Bucky Barnes.

She speaks at the ceremony.  His younger sisters are there.  A pain long deadened resurfaces at the realization that she hadn’t known he’d had even one.  Rebecca.  Winnifred.  Imogene.  Younger, all three.  It’s difficult to think she has anything worth saying after Becky’s speech about family and dancing around the kitchen to Benny Goodman records.

Peggy lifts her chin, fighting the tightness in her throat.  Even a decade later, the war still bubbles under the surface. 

“As a man who so often is only remembered as Steve Rogers’ closest, childhood friend, I think we often forget to acknowledge that Sergeant James Barnes was a great man in his own right.”  She swallows.

“And yet, it remains a mark of a character that the man I knew wouldn’t have minded being known as such.”

Everything is heightened during war.  Sharper, somehow.  Awareness of life, of death.  Of friendship.

It’s difficult to encapsulate the complexity of the human condition in any language.  His loyalty, his drive, his strength of character are all deserving of proper remembrance.  As are his cocky, crooked grin, his smooth steps on the dance floor.  The way he had once told her, just the two of them, staring into the German darkness as the Commandos got a few hours rest in the leaf mold: You know, I never wanted to go to war.

Not until the Hall empties out of even the Barnes sisters does Peggy step forward.   Gently, she places her fingers to the cold stone.

“Hello, again, Sarge.”  Somehow, she finds she is smiling.  A warm, salty, wet smile.  “About time, I should think.”

The carved star is identical to the others that wind down the hallway.  From a distance, the blocked letters “Sergeant James B. Barnes” blur into the line of names.  The monument is cool to the touch.  It doesn’t do justice to a man as vibrant, as alive, as he had been.

But it’s something, she feels.  She’s not quite sure what, but something.

“How are you, James?”