Hey there! :D [Samm, 18]

Im 100% Canuckistanian - oh canaderp! -
A Real East Coaster (ADT GMT -3:00)

100% done with highschool

I've written a couple Intelligence Fanfics. Check'em out below! :D

~~MultiFandomBlog~~
● Intelligence ● Agents of SHIELD & the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe ● Castle ● NCIS & Los Angeles ● Murdoch Mysteries ● The Mentalist ● RDJ Movies ● & Other random shit I like ●

Times will be had :)
Reblogged from lunaslunatic  35,688 notes

linzeestyle:

 (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.