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anjuschiffer · 4 years ago

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Breaking the Silence

My first Dickinette! Originally this was going to be for Maribat March, but ended up getting too invested on it... welp! Hope you enjoy this!

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Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo

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AO3

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The door opened with a slam and closed with a click, Dick peeking over the doorway, his face lightening up upon seeing his children enter the home. However, a frown replaced his smile when he saw Thomas throw his bag to the side, Marie watching her twin brother with a pursed lip and worried eyes.

“-maybe he can help.” Marie whispered, trying to grab Thomas’ hand only to get it slapped away.

“Dad?” Thomas scoffed, dragging his hand down his face before flinging his hand in the direction of the kitchen. “That happy-go-lucky guy? Bet he’s never had to deal with this shit before.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.” Marie urged, holding Thomas’ hand into her own. “Maybe he can-”

“He won’t and will not. And you better not tell him about any of this.” Thomas gritted, jerking his hand away from Marie, his eyes landing on his father who was now standing at the foyer of the house, a smile plastered on his face.

How long was he there for? How much did he know?

“So, how was school?” Richard asked, leaning on the wall, watching as Marie fidgeted under his watch while Thomas muttered something, averting his attention.

“It was alright.” Thomas started, picking up his school bag and threw it over his shoulder. “Aced my midterms if that helps.” Richard’s smile grew, Thomas wanting to roll his eyes as his father walked over to him and hugged him, ending the interaction by ruffling his midnight hair.

“Definitely wonderful news! Worth celebrating over! Might have to call your mo-”

“He got in a fight.” Marie blurted out, her gaze on the floor, her fists trembling at her side, her name hissed out of her brother.

“A fight?” Richard asked, Thomas rolling his eyes, feeling a bit ashamed when his father’s eyes narrowed. “With who-”

“It’s nothing you should be concerned about,” Thomas said, walking up the stairs to slowly retreat to his room. “No-thing,” Thomas enunciated each syllable.

“Stop lying Thomas,” Marie said, her voice wavering. She looked at her father with bluebell eyes, round and filled to brim with unshed tears. Richard’s heart ached. They looked just like hers. “He got in a fight with-”

“Marie.” Thomas sternly growled, watching his sister tense up. “Not. Now.”

“Thomas, let her-”

“Are you happy that you got Dad’s attention, Marie?” Thomas asked, Richard wondering what exactly was his son feeling. Anger? Annoyance? Jealousy?

“What are you-”

“Aren’t you happy Mar? Happy that Dad loves you sooo much, simply because you’re the better one out of the two of us? The one that never gets in trouble? The goody-two-shoes, just like him? Like her? Like them?”

“What? No!” Marie squeaked, her eyes darting from their father and Thomas. “No, I-”

“Oh stop lying to yourself, Mar.” Thomas walked back down the stairs, his bag abandoned at the top. “You just love the fact that Dad always prefers you over me. After all,” he looked past his father, watching as Marie cowered behind him, “-you look just like her.”

“Thomas.” Richard said sternly, standing in front of Marie, tears falling silently down her face. “That’s enough.”

“What’s enough?” Thomas asked with a dry laugh. “The fact that Marie looks just like Mom? The fact that Marie looks identical to Mom? The fact that you have an identical replica of Mom living with us despite me also being a part of her?” Thomas let out a shuddering sigh. “I bet you’d choose Mom over me if you had the chance, wouldn’t you?”

“Thomas. Take. That. Back.” Richard gritted.

“Why should I when we both know it’s the truth?”

“You’re jumping to conclusions young man.”

“Oh? Am I?” Thomas walked up to his father, the height difference not scaring him one bit. “Then explain why I’m always the outcast.” At that, Richard took a step back, wondering how to answer at the accusation. “Why was I always the one you avoided looking at? Why was I always the one sent to Grandpa Bruce’s manor while Marie got to stay with Grandpere Tom and Grandmere Sabine? Why was I the one who had to suffer through all the gossip behind my back? Why was I-”

“Because you resemble her the most.” Richard softly said, Thomas looking up to his father, wondering when he had curled into himself, why his vision was so blurry. When did he start crying? When did his father start crying? Why was he crying? “Because some days you sounded exactly like her.” Richard brought his son into an embrace, Thomas feeling his father tremble. “Even though you have my shade of blue eyes, you have her midnight hair.”

Thomas felt his chest both tighten up and feel lighter.

“You have her laugh and her voice, her button nose and scrunched up face whenever she ate something sour.” Thomas’ vision blurred again, a lump forming in his throat.

“Your freckles look identical to her’s, you have her smile when you eat your favorite ice cream combo: vanilla and chocolate mint.” Richard let out a wobbly laugh. “Did you know that was her favorite combination to eat?”

Richard separated himself from Thomas, watching Thomas hang his head in shame while also wiping his tears away.

“And despite never meeting her, you have the same habits she had.” Marie walked up to her father and silently cried into his side. He patted her head, pulling Thomas into a hug again, hearing muffled cries. “It’s not that I was avoiding you Thomas, I was just not prepared to face you… to face the reality that your mother will never be able to see how much her children have grown up without her seeing a single bit of it with her own eyes.”

Thomas’ wails broke the silence, Marie shortly joining in, her own sobs syncing with her brother’s, something Richard had yet to completely understand.

Even when they were infants -in the rare times they would cry- whenever one of them would cry, the other would join, their screams syncing into a single wail, sometimes scaring Richard.

It would still be something to get used to.

Richard let his kids cry, knowing it was heavily needed. Talking to Thomas about the fight can wait for another time, his current emotions were more important than some fight from earlier that day.

He knew about Thomas’ constant fights, the academy always calling Richard to try to meet in person to speak about the situation, Richard always turning the appointments down. He already knew about them, he had for a while. He just knew it wasn’t the right time to approach Thomas about the issue.

He wanted to give Thomas the option to approach him, to confide in his father for advice.

Richard knew better than to pry information from people, if living with his adopted siblings taught him anything, it was to never pry. When he had applied pressure, or at least the majority of the time, it’d lead to an unwanted situation.

Their crying carried for minutes, almost an hour until they came to a soft hiccup, Thomas being the one to end the symphony of tears. Making sure that his kids calmed down completely and didn’t have anymore pent up emotions, Richard coaxed them to take a nap as Thomas and Marie ended up exhausting themselves, now drowsy from all the crying.

With great hesitance, the twins finally agreed to take a short nap, Thomas complaining how it would ruin his sleep schedule while Marie was starting to crave cake. Richard told Marie he would make sure a cake was made and finished before dinner while laughing at Thomas’ complaints.

It reminded him of a certain someone.

Tucking Marie into bed and giving her a kiss on her forehead, Richard slipped out of Marie’s room and went to the kitchen to start working on the cake he had promised Mari.

Setting up his work space, he got to baking, placing his glass bowl over a pan of hot water, cracking the eggs over it and placing the sugar and vanilla extract in as well. He began to mix the ingredients, feeling something was off.

“Oh! Don’t forget the honey! You always forget the honey!”

“Right! The honey!”

“And don’t forget to remove it-”

“Remove it when it gets to 40 celcius. And we have to do the same for the butter and milk.”

“Yup! Honestly, why do you keep asking me about the step if you got the majority of it down?

“Just making sure.”

“Once you mix the first bowl you gotta add the cocoa powder.”

“Right, the butter and milk come after that.”

“Yup! So let’s get back to baking!”

“Hope I don’t forget a step along the way.” Richard said to himself, failing to notice the figure that peered from the kitchen doorway, watching Richard talk to himself as he made the batter, placed it in the oven and started to prep for the next step.

“Do you see that Mari? He’s doing just fine. He may still be healing, but he’s okay.”

——

“What’s the cake for? Is it the twin’s birthday already?” A voice asked, making Dick jump, almost misplacing the last strawberry on the cake.

“Kor’i!” He exclaimed with a smile, placing the strawberry down and going up to kiss his wife, having to tip-toe a bit to kiss her cheek. “When did you get back home?”

“When you started baking.” Kor’i giggled upon seeing the blush on Richard’s face. “I didn’t want to bother you so-”

“You could’ve still said hi.”

“You were talking with M.” Kor’i said softly, watching as it dawned on Richard as to what she had meant.

“Oh,” was all he could say, rubbing the back of his neck. “Was I?” Kor’i nodded, noticing the mess on the counter.

“Why don’t I help you clean up? That way you can take a short break before dinner.” Kor’i suggested, Dick nodding, the two cleaning up the mess in sweet silence.

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The mess was cleaned, dinner ready to be heated and the cake to be eaten, but there was an hour to spare before Kor’i and Dick had to wake up the children, so they settled with sitting on the sectional sofa, Dick being Kori’s pillow as the two watched some drama Kor’i had been watching recently.

While Kor’i was highly immersed into the show, Dick was content in just being there, running his hand through her hair that seemed to flow for miles. Her sunset hair shimmered, before Dick realized it had turned midnight and short.

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“-hope that- Dick?” Kor’i asked, quickly turning when he had stopped moving. One minute he was stroking her hair, the next he had stopped.

Quickly, Kor’i kneeled beside Dick. “Dick? Dick? Dick, are you alright?”

“Mari. Is Mari okay?” He asked, staring at his hands, Kor’i noticing that tears ran down his face, his eyes had turned glossy.

“Dick... Dick.” Kor’i repeated, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Dick, please, say something.”

“It was all my fault.” Dick whispered, still looking into the distance, watching as Mari’s casket was lowered into the ground. “It was all my fault.”

------

Dick stormed out of the manor, slamming the door behind him, ignoring Alfred’s calls.

This is exactly why he hated Bruce. Why he hated Batman. Why he hated being Robin.

This is why this was going to be his last mission. His last mission... As a vigilante…

He had enough of all of this...he just wanted to have a life next to her.

As he made his way to his girlfriend’s home, ambulances rushed past him, firefighters and police cars following suit… all of them heading for-

“Mari.” With the worst case scenario in his head, Dick broke into a sprint, praying that it was all wrong. That what his gut was telling him was wrong. That Mari was fine. That she is alright.

Please, let her be okay.

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He couldn’t bear to see her nor to touch her.

“I’m fine Dick.” Marinette softly said, placing her hand over his, drawing circles. “I’m going to be fine.”

“Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you so calm?” Dick grasped the mint green blanket into his hand. “Why aren’t you-”

“Because I was also at fault.”

“He was drunk.”

“But I also was crossing the street when the light was still green.”

“He was going over the speed limit, Marinette.” Dick gritted, getting up quickly, the hair falling down. “Don’t you understand how serious this is?”

“I made it out with a simple scratch.”

“Mari, that’s not a scratch. You could’ve ended up blind and possibly dead if it weren’t for your quick thinking and your phone.”

Marinette pursed her lips at that, balling the blanket under her grip.

She knew Dick was right, but she was grateful for her luck, only having the side of her face swollen and having a cut near her eye.

True, she could’ve died if her phone didn’t take the hit for her leg… but Marinette was just happy to be alive…

Dick watched her avoid him as he took a breath, turning away from her as he collected himself.

Do it for her.

Bruce’s words rang in his head as he prepared himself for the biggest mistake of his life. Hell, the biggest regret of his life.

“I’ve had enough of this.” He said out of nowhere, Marinette wondering where this was coming from.

“Enough of what?”

“Of this!” Dick yelled, motioning at the hospital. “Every single time I come to visit you, I always end up here. Here!”

“Richard, I-”

“The first time I met you, it was my fault you were here. I wasn’t watching where I was driving, but since then?” Dick let out a dry laugh. “You manage to make it about yourself.”

“Richard, I had to-”

“You should’ve let the ball roll off the first time, should’ve let the phone fall into the river the second, should’ve let the letter fly off into the air, let the dog runaway, let that girl-”

“How can you say that I was doing it for attention?” Marinette scowled. “I was helping someone, saving them on that last one.”

“Help to the extent of getting injured? Of dying?” Dick laughed before it came to a halt. “I can’t keep going like this. I rather not be involved with this.”

Marinette’s eyes shrunk, feeling her view become smaller. She could feel her chest tighten, a lump forming in her throat.

Please don’t… don’t say-

“I think it’s better if we go our own ways.”

He did...

Marinette didn’t know when he left, nor did she know when the other doctors came into her room. She only acknowledged them when one of them sat on her bed and held her hand, giving it a squeeze.

It was only then that she noticed that the other two doctors that were in the room avoided looking at her, their mouths in thin lines.

“I’m...I’m pretty sure you didn’t hear us when we came in...we noticed you were dazed off, recovering from today’s accident.” The doctor at her side said, letting out a huff. “We’re here to tell you about your friend, Alya.” Marinette perked at that. “We came to the decision to tell you about your friend now rather than later or through someone else.”

No.

Please… don’t…

She can’t right now… She can’t lose another person… She won’t be able to handle that...

“Wh-What, where is Alya?”

She needed Alya right now...

“I’m sorry, but Mme.Ceshaire… she didn’t make it through the surgery.”

One minute Marinette saw the three doctors in her room… the next, her world had become dark.

------

“She’s awake! Someone! Get the doctor!”

Marinette’s eyes flickered, flinching when her eyes adjusted to the lights.

“I see that you’re doing better, Mme.Dupain-Cheng. And we need you to be doing better, to get better. After all, you have to live on for two now.”

“I, um, I beg your pardon?” Marinette asked, adjusting herself to sit up a bit, watching as the doctor looked at her in astonishment and then gracefully gave her a smile.

“I’m guessing you didn’t know, but that’s quite understandable, seeing as you are only two weeks in.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m still not-”

“You are pregnant Mme.Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette’s heart fell. “Congratulations.”

———

It was finally done.

Fuck Bruce.

He was never going back.

Dick felt like a weight in his shoulders were slightly lifted.

There was no turning back.

As Dick headed for the bakery where he knew Marinette still resided in, his heart came to a halt as his eyes laid on the girl he had left behind.

She had changed. She was a bit more plump, glowing as she sat on the chair outside the bakery. Next to her, a man who he’d only see a few times. Luka, if he remembered correctly.

But that wasn’t what had caused his heart to stop beating. It was her figure that had him to stop breathing. She was pregnant. But now the question that rose: whose was it? Who was the father of the child she was to bare?

It didn’t take long to figure it out because as soon as Dick locked eyes with Luka, he saw red in the other man’s eyes. One minute Dick was looking at an enraged Luka and the next he saw a fist, toppling backwards where his head met the floor.

“How dare you show your face around here after what you’ve done to Marinette!”

“What-” a grunt. “Are you-” a gag as he tasted blood. “Talking about?” But Dick got no response. Luka just keeps punching him, Dick letting him despite his brain telling him to defend himself. But his heart said otherwise. Something told him he deserved it.

“Luka! Stop it! Please!” Marinette’s voice cracked as she pleaded, Luka almost stopping instantly when he heard it.

Dick swore that his heart stopped at how broken it sounded, how tired it had become.

Was it all because of him?

“Mari, I-“

“Come inside.” Marinette said with a weak voice. “I don’t want anyone eavesdropping on our conversation.

After getting fixed up, Marinette treating his last bruise, Dick finished what he came to tell her.

The reason he broke up with her and didn’t contact her for months? One word: Kitten.

She had decided to waltz back into his life, but this time being the new Killer Moth, something Bruce and Dick did not expect to hear after hearing of Drury’s death.

While Bruce quickly adjusted to the new villain, Dick couldn’t. Because he knew what this meant.

She wanted him -hence her return- and this time, she came prepared.

She had more things to hold hostage against Dick - Gotham, Batman, Robin...and Marinette.

He needed to act quick, hasty decisions that led to successfully taking Kitten down.

However, they also led to regrets.

He watched as Marinette dropped the bag of frozen peas, her eyes filling up with tears.

“All of that, for a mission?”

“I know. It was stupid-“

“Stupid barely just scratches the surface.” She started, letting out a dry laugh. “It was downright idiotic!” Holding her hand to her head, she walked in a complete circle before facing him again. “Why didn’t you just tell me? Why? Didn’t you trust me?”

“I do! I still do.”

“Sure didn’t seem like it.” Marinette scoffed. “Because if you did, you would’ve told me.”

“I could’ve never returned to you had the mission gone wrong.” Dick defended, attempting to reach out to her, only for Mari to catch his hand and shake her head.

“I would’ve understood. I know the sacrifices a person must make to keep their loved ones protected.” She reminded him, Dick fully knowing she was referring to her days of being Ladybug.

“Kitten-” Dick started, only to get cut off.

“Kitten would’ve faced my wrath if you didn’t come back to me.” Marinette said, then remembering about that clingy girl he once spoke of. “I would’ve done something to bring you back home.”

“I know. And that’s what I also feared.”

“Hmm?”

“I feared that if it did go wrong and you had to do something to get me back, and something happened to you as well...what does that say about me? Am I too weak to protect you? That I’m still not ready to have my own life and protect it?”

“What’s wrong in relying on others?”

“It often means bringing in more people for others to hold hostage.”

“Is that what your father taught you?” Marinette asked coldly, glaring at the bruise on Dick’s face. “Is that what you learned from fighting alongside Batman? Red Robin? Robin? Because if anything, they prove otherwise.”

“I just don’t-”

“Sometimes, you have to rely on others, lean on their shoulders.” Marinette reminded, cupping Richard’s face, gently pressing her forehead against his. “Just hide away your fears and ask for help. Talk to someone, just like you are with me.”

Dick didn’t know when he had placed his hands over hers nor when he got up to embrace her. He just knew that whatever stood between them no longer stood there.

That she somehow washed away his fears.

“Thank you, Mari.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you for doing that stunt on me.” Marinette said against his ear, a chill running down his spine.

“R-right.”

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The next months were spent with Dick picking up the responsibility he had never picked up.

He helped Marinette with her modeling, helped her deal with her clients, always at her beck and call each day.

He did the cleaning, the laundry and the cooking, not once letting Marinette lift a finger.

Despite each day spent like an errand boy, Dick cherished each moment.

Their morning greetings (which was a boop on the nose), their lunch dates, Dick watching Marinette hum and caress her stomach whenever she took a break, being by Mari’s side whenever she felt irritated, and the list went on.

Those days became weeks, which in turn, became months.

He didn’t remember when he had the guts to ask her to marry him, crying when she said yes.

The two moved into their own apartment - big enough for them and their bundle of joy.

———

With each passing day, he longed for the moment he’d be able to meet their child, Dick often being the one to bring out lists of names to choose from.

They’d talk about the nursery as they watched the city lights beam across their ceiling at night.

They’d talk about the cribs and the onesies they have to buy. Which brand to choose and the stuffed animals to buy.

As he’d run his hand through her midnight locks, they would speak of what family activities to do.

Introduce them to Disney, take them to the beach, the amusement park. To Paris!

They’d let their fantasies run wild, fully knowing that money was the least of their problem.

They just wanted the best for their child.

Their future.

———

And in the blink of an eye, they were there.

———

“He’s so tiny.” Richard cooed, cradling his son in his arms, watching the tiny infant squirm in his blanket. He had a tuft of navy hair, a few strands seeping from his tiny hat.

It was still pretty early in the morning, the delivery being five in the morning and yet Richard still had energy to spare. Or maybe he knew it wasn’t fair to his wife who worked so hard to bring their bundle of joy to their lives.

“He is, meaning that there’s still space to carry another one.” Marinette hummed, Richard tilting his head.

“Another...one?” Marinette giggled as she watched the nurse roll in another makeshift crib into the room, watching as tears rolled down Richard’s face. “Mari… why didn’t you-”

“I made sure to keep it a secret.” Marinette watched as the nurse helped Richard balance the two children into his arms, ingraining the memory. “Only my parents knew about them. Oh! And Alfred too!”

“She’s adorable,” was all Richard could whisper out as he looked at their children in his arms.

“Thomas. Marie.” Marinette said, reaching out for her children, the nurse quickly going to Richard to get Thomas and then Marie. Richard wanted to pout upon having his children taken from him but he didn’t care.

His heart melted as he watched the two infants snuggle closer to their mother, tiny smiles on their wrinkly faces.

“I’ll always be watching over you. Always.” Marinette softly spoke, her smile getting bigger before it quivered. “I’m sorry.”

What was she talking about? Sorry? About what?

“Richard.” Marinette spoke, even quieter this time, Dick noticing that her hold on the children was loosening, probably because she was tired. Without another word, he scooped the children into his arm, watching Marinette look at him with soft eyes. “Come closer.”

He did.

He watched as Marinette slowly lifted her hand to his cheek, caressing it as she smiled, unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

“You know I’ve always loved you and I always will.”

“You tell me everyday my love.” Dick assured, leaning into her cold touch. “I love you too.”

“Please.” Marinette pleaded, a tear sliding down her pale face, her lips giving him a frail smile. “Promise me that you’ll take care of them.”

“Of course I will.” RIchard smiled, wanting to caress her cheek as well, instead, he settled for a forehead press. She was kinda cold. “I’ll take care of them alongside you.” Marinette shook her head.

“Only you will be able to take care of... them.” Marinette said, her voice cracking towards the end. “I’m sorry.” She whispered out, Richard finally piecing together her words.

“Mari. Mari, no. You...you can’t.” Richard set the children down into their respective cribs, hearing her monitor start to beep in alarm. “Mari, Mari! Mari please! Someone!”

He started to shout outside the door, shouting for someone to come and help him.

He shouted desperately, watching as no one came, the crying of his two children being his only solace.

She died with a smile on her face.

———

“It was all my fault! I should’ve never left her alone! I should've told her about the mission instead of leaving her out of the loop! If I had simply-“

“Dick, you didn’t know.” Kor’i softly said, never noticing when the twins had gotten to the living room, watching as their father broke down. “None of us knew, but her.”

“Mari, is Mari okay? Tell me Kor’i! Is Marinette going to be alright?” Dick asked, clinging onto Kor’i.

This...this was the first time the twins had ever heard their mother’s name out of their father’s mouth. It was always ‘Mom,’ ‘Mother,’ Nettie’. It was never Marinette.

“Richard. She’s alright.” Kor’i hushed, watching as Dick let out shuddering breaths. “The children are okay as well.”

Thomas and Marie watched as their father visibly calmed down, watching Kor’i give him a soft smile.

“So she’s okay? She’s not…” he trailed off, looking at Kor’i with glossy eyes. When he saw Kor’i nod, let out a sigh before he collapsed to his side, the cushions allowing him to drift off to sleep.

Thomas and Marie attempted to go over to their father, but didn’t when Kor’i prevented them from getting any closer.

“Does...does- is this new?” Marie asked, watching her father in deep sleep, tears staining the pillow underneath him. “Was this-“

“He doesn’t have them that often anymore, they used to be much worse. And as much as I want to say no, I can’t do that. So yes, perhaps the sudden situation that caused him to confess his feelings may have triggered this one.” Kor’i responded despite not wanting to confirm Marie’s suspicions.

“Will he be alright?” Thomas then asked, holding onto Marie’s hand that trembled in guilt.

“He’s going to be alright. I assure you that much.” Thomas and Marie watched as Kor’i draped a blanket over him, wondering what awaited them.

The two walked out the living room, walking into the kitchen, a sob escaping Marie.

“Come on Marie. You can’t just-“

“What if it’s our fault Mom isn’t here?” Marie cut her brother off. “What if we’re the reason-“ She flinched when Thomas slammed his hands on the kitchen counter.

“Don’t you dare say that!” Thomas grabs her by the shoulders, shaking her a bit. “Don’t you dare mock Mom’s feelings like that! If we’re here while she isn’t, then she wanted us to live! And because we’re living, we can’t just just take her decision for granted!”

“I know, but-“ Marie bit her lip. “How did we just believe Dad wasn’t still suffering from her death? Why didn’t we notice it? Why didn’t he say anything? We’re his children. He should’ve said something. We could’ve helped.”

Thomas frowned, watching as his sister silently cried.

He hated to say this, but she was right.

He could’ve told them what he was going through. He could’ve leaned on them… then again, who was he to judge him for that?

He never spoke of his fights with his father, so what right did he have for demanding him to tell them about his problems?

Now that he thought about, why did he never speak of the fights?

Was it his shame? His guilt?

No.

Thomas knew why he never spoke of the fights.

It was his pride.

They called him motherless, a bastard when they saw him argue with his father once and when they learned that Kor’i was his father’s ‘current’ wife was someone from Tamaran, they called him a Torq.

Torq.

Insignificant. A nobody. That nothing good would ever come from a motherless rebel like him.

Thomas hit the side of his fist against the wall, a book hitting his head and falling to the floor.

Why did he choose the side of the kitchen where all the cookbooks were at?

Rubbing his aching bruise, Thomas went to pick it up, eyes widening when he saw the name on the opened front page.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marie rushes over the moment she hears the name, slightly pushing her brother to get a better view of the book.

They flipped the page, confused to see writing on it.

“They’re recipes.” Marie pointed out, looking at the fruit tart recipe on the page they were currently looking at.

“Mom wrote all of these.” Thomas stated the obvious, running his hand across the neatly written instructions. The regular instructions were in black, side notes and suggestions in red and pink respectively.

He also couldn’t help but notice a ladybug theme on the book.

Did she like ladybugs?

“In case Dick has another nightmare or breakdown.” Marie read out loud, Thomas looking to where he was reading.

“An herbal tea?”

“Do you think...it will work?”

“We can give it a try.”

“Let’s do it then!” Marie said with a smile. “Let’s make Dad feel better!”

I know you two can do it! Good luck!

———

“It happened again, didn’t it?” Dick asked, looking down at his trembling hands.

It wasn’t even a complete ten minutes before he woke up. His body was sore and his throat parched. Another one, huh? “And I’m front of-“

“They were going to find out eventually.” Kor’i said softly, amazed that it took 16 whole years for them to find out. While babies didn’t fully understand breakdowns, they can absolutely feel them. “And what better time than now.”

“But they shouldn’t have to deal with-“

“They are not dealing with anything. Instead, they are learning more about you. Getting to finally know about their father.”

“Their pathetic poor-excuse-of-a-father.” Dick huffed, placing his head into his hands. “Can’t even get over-“

“Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Kor’i gritted, cupping Dick’s face to make him look at her. “Don’t you dare say that death should be easy to get over. Because it’s not. And never will. Only time can heal it. And we both know that.”

“All too well.” Dick added, placing his head on her shoulder. “Sorry for saying that.”

“It’s alright.”

“Dad.” “Dad.” They heard their kids say simultaneously, noticing that Thomas had a tray in his hand.

“What’s that you got there?” Dick attempted to say with a chirp, causing everyone to resist showing a frown.

“It’s a tea recipe we found.” Thomas started.

“We decided to make it after finding it in Mom’s recipe book.”

They watched as their father’s eyes grew large.

“Mari’s...cookbook. It thought it was lost in the move from long ago.” Dick whispered as he took the cup of tea, the aroma of ginger and cinnamon bringing back old memories. “It smells just like the tea she used to make.”

Marie and Thomas watched as their father took a sip from it, wondering if it tastes the same as Mom’s.

“Does...does it taste...good?” Marie asked after a long moment of awkward silence.

“It almost tastes exactly like hers. Of course, there’s still something missing-“ Marie’s hiccups, Dick quickly getting up to console her, setting down his cup. “Mari, the tea-“

“I’m glad you liked it. I thought you wouldn’t.” Marie sobbed, wiping away her tears. “We tried to figure out what the last ingredient was but after testing out different things, nothing seemed to be it.”

“Whatever Mom meant by ‘tears of true love,’ we weren’t able to crack it.” Thomas clarifies, placing the empty tray onto the coffee table. “But I guess it was still a success if you said it tastes similar to Mom’s.”

Dick smiled, pulling Thomas close to him.

“Seems like the two of you have your mother’s gift of creation.” Dick felt Kor’i join in on the hug. “She’d be really proud of the two of you. Without a doubt.”

He wiped away a tear that dared to slip, flicking it away.

He never realized the soft pink glow that emitted from the tea when the tear flew into it.

The tear of true love...in the shape of a healing family.

#maribat #dickinette #dick x kori #oc: marie grayson #oc: thomas grayson

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whindsor · 4 years ago

Text

the trials of online dating, pt 1

so @witchofinterest asked about mika and bucky meeting online, as is alluded to in the first episode of falcon and winter soldier, and, well...here’s part one oops!

After hours of research and thought and more research and more thought, Bucky decided HiLove was the best option. The general consensus on the forums was that people were looking for something more than a hookup, and it was an app that only allowed those identifying as female or non-binary to send the first message after a reciprocating match. The very, very small part of him that remained in 1943 balked at this, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. His entire past was a quick Google search away; his potential matches deserved to know, and he didn’t want to feel the sting of rejection if they found out the hard way. A win-win.

At least, as much of a win as an ex-hydra-super-soldier was going to get.

It was all Dr. Raynor’s idea, and it wasn’t his favorite, but he was willing to jump through the hoops and say all the right things so that he could be done with this probationary period and move on with his life.

He did his best filling out the profile. Age? 106. Interests? Well he couldn’t very well put knives and psychotherapy, so instead he put hiking, technology, and reading. Job? That was easy. Former military. He didn’t need to put that he originally got drafted in the 40s, and spent the last however many years as the fist of a rogue military organization; that would be part of the Google search. He put his real name, because Dr. Raynor made him, and clicked okay. He’d been avoiding this for weeks now, and if he didn’t at least have it up whenever he saw her later that day, she would write in that stupid notebook like those scientists used to.

This was a terrible idea.

This was the worst idea.

Somehow the goddamn push notifications got turned on, and within the hour the app started going off. He eyed his phone for the first few minutes before giving in a swiping it open.

Mistake number two.

A woman in her 50s messaged him, and apparently he had to swipe a certain way to see this message. Once he saw the message - and the photos attached to it - he nearly threw his phone against the wall. Back when he last dated, in 1943, he thought he appreciated a bold woman. Bold by today’s standards was a little more than he was ready for.

He was afraid to open the app after that, and so he just let his phone sit and buzz while he watched the EuroCup matches and counted down the minutes until his appointment. There were other things he could do to occupy his time, like visit the sushi shop or the library. But that seemed overwhelming, so instead he sat on the floor and watched his games until it was finally time to go into the clinic.

“So, James,” Dr. Raynor started, crossing her legs and pretending to be casual. Bucky sat with his hands clasped, his knee bouncing as he readied himself for the interrogation. Or therapy, as they called it. “Anything new to report today?”

“Well, I tried that dating app thing you told me to do,” he said. If he started with this, then maybe he could take up enough of the time with the bullshit and avoid having to talk about stupid stuff, like what he thought about during his panic attacks or whether his arm still hurt. The look on Dr. Raynor’s face said she didn’t believe him.

“Oh yea? Which one?” she asked, her voice just as convincing as her face.

“HiLove. Seemed the best option,” Bucky said, hoping that was the right answer. She raised her eyebrows.

“Well, it wasn’t a bad move,” she said. “Any matches so far?”

He allowed one bark of a laugh before schooling his features again. “One woman, uh, wanted my appraisal of her physical appearance.”

“She sent you a nude.”

“She - what?”

“She sent you a nude. A nudie, a dirty picture, a-“

“Yea, yea, I get it,” he interrupted, not wanting to beat the dead horse. “Yea, she sent me ‘a nude’.”

“Any others?”

“Any others what?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Did any other women send messages? Or nudes?”

“I don’t know, I stopped looking after the first one,” he said. Oftentimes he lied to Dr. Raynor, but this time he could be truthful. She sighed, holding her hand out and beckoning with her fingers. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and handed it over, watching as she easily keyed in his passcode. Casual security breach. That was fine. That totally wasn’t something that kept him up at night.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” she muttered, expertly swiping through the notifications. She moved a little too easily, as if she were familiar with the app. He decided not to comment on that. “Alright, James, we gotta filter some of the shit outta here.”

“I’d prefer to filter all the shit, but that’s just me,” he said. This was a stupid exercise, but at least it was manageable, and it would keep her occupied for a while.

“Too young, too young, way too young…” Was Dr. Raynor talking to herself or to him? It didn’t matter. She kept swiping. “Chaser, chaser, catfish…ah, here’s a good one.” She opened the profile and handed it over to him.

“She’s also way too young,” he said, looking at the picture of a beautiful woman. Dark hair, dark eyes, bright smile…someone that definitely would catch his eye, if he didn’t feel the weight of his past keeping his head down.

“She’s thirty-three.”

“That’s, like, a third of my age.”

“Well, if we discount all the times you were in ice, really you’re somewhere in the thirty-five to thirty-seven range. That’s not a bad gap.”

He glared up at her for a moment before going back to the profile. He furrowed his brows as he read further. “She’s Romanian.”

“Ah, you finally noticed that, did you?” she said, and he could hear the gloating in her voice. “What, is she not your type?”

“I don’t think I have a type anymore.”

“Then swipe and see what happens.”

“I don’t know, Doc,” he said, shaking his head. This was not how it was supposed to go.

“Don’t know what?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. He shrugged, looking off to the side. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her slide the notebook off the table.

“Oh, c’mon, Doc, that’s not notebook worthy,” he said. She paused her pen, but still tapped it threateningly against the paper.

“Then tell me what you ‘don’t know’ about matching with that woman,” she said.

“I haven’t been on a date in eighty years, I think a little trepidation is normal even without the shit I’ve dealt with between now and then,” he said. “It just doesn’t feel right going into something without…without the other person knowing the full story.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you a virgin, James?”

“No.” What did that have anything to do with it? “Why?”

“Just making sure I have the full story,” she said. “So you don’t want to chance anything cause they don’t know everything about you.”

“Well…”

“Counterpoint: do you know everything about her?”

He gave her an annoyed look, the matching sensation bubbling behind his sternum. “It’s not the same, and you know it.”

She sighed again, scribbling something down. Inside, he wanted to rip the notebook from her hands. On the outside, he just glanced down at his phone. The screen had darkened from lack of activity, and he tapped it to wake up again. The same pretty woman smiled up at him, the little pink bar waiting for him to confirm or deny their connection.

“Want me to do it for you?” Dr. Raynor asked, her pen now still. “Cause I will.”

“I can do it, thank you,” he said. “I just don’t know if I want to.”

“Bullshit, James,” she said. “She’s a pretty girl, and it’s online. You can ghost her if you get too scared. It’s an asshole move, but technically it’s an option.”

He’s a ghost story.

“I’m not gonna do that to anyone,” he said.

“What, ghost them? Or burden them?” she asked, leaning forward and resting her elbow on her knee.

“Either. Both.” Again, with the honesty. Idiot move.

“James, listen,” she said, making him look up at her. Her tone was gentle - at least, Dr. Raynor version of gentle. “Everyone has baggage. You’ve gotta start unloading some, or you’re gonna end up getting crushed by it. The worst has already happened to you. Sometimes, if you want the good stuff, you have to go out and get it.”

Bucky stared down at the phone, wishing that it was just the jitters that he felt instead of a cold stone of dread. The worst had already happened to him, a thousand times over. Would rejection feel like nothing, or would it break him?

Well, Dr. Raynor was right. He wouldn’t know unless he tried.

“Alright, Mika Corsof,” he said, swiping the pink arrow. “Let’s see what happens.”

#online dating au #thank you leaf!!!!#i'm gonna have too much fun with this #mucky

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utas-faerie-gf · 2 years ago

Text

My God 🤦🏽‍♀️

This is actually sumn dumb I would do

NOAH FENCE TWO DA PURR SUN WOO REQUESSTED DIS--

My stomach acid just went up my throat. Ew, what the actually fuck? Second time it happened this week.

ANYWAYS

Thots wile reedeng dis

"My condolences to toes everywhere. 😔 Originally intended to title this 'pinkie toe', but it wouldn’t show up in tags, hence 'toe' instead. 😐😂" TUMBLR!! That's toeist >:(

And why isn't pinkie toe a tag, but big hoe is..

Hold up- I just misspelled toe. I--

That's it I give up with what I was trynna write. Goodnight.

It's 3 AM. I shouldn't be doing this.

Nah, I'm playing I can't leave! 😂 (this is a cry for help)

Big hoe.. 3 AM type of spelling..

OKAY CONTINUING ON LMAO

"So you don't even care 💔" Y/N, don't play with him like that. You KNOW he cares about you 🥺

"You're a mess 🥺 😂 💓" "I'm a mess?" "YOU just broke your pinkie toe 🧐" can we talk about how long it took me to find that emoji-

FR JURO CHURRO LIKE 😭😭😭

"Insult me" "Criticize me" "Offend me 🥲" Bet

You dumb McChicken 😡 /j How could you-- Hold on

How CAN you break your pinkie toe and your pinkie toe only? 🤨 YOUR RING TOE WASN'T AFFECTED EITHER??? DANG, YOU LUCKY CUZ I WOULD IF BROKE MY WHOLE FOOT 😭

"Tapped it to your ring toe?" Juro, who do I look like 🤨 OFC I DIDN'T

IT FRICKIN' HURTS 😭

"What is your upcoming availability? I can schedule you a doctor's appointment" Juro 🥺🥺🥺 Next year, cuz I gotta catch up on One Piece ☺️

Actually make it 2 years then 💀

"Are you fucking with me?" DO NOT EVER CURSE AT THE BABY LIKE THAT 😡😡😡

"(I'm not typing the whole thing so like pretend it's talking about hopping on one foot okay 🥺)" Juro.. That would of been the first thing I tried

DW I'M A PROFESSIONAL AT HOPPING ON ONE FOOT (More like a professional at hurting yourself 💀)

"I'll just like" "Take a nap" No, cuz I be doing backflips in my sleep

SUMMERSAULTS

CARTWHEELS 😭

I BE GETTING POSSESSED I'M TELLING YOU

"Oh!" "Uh!" "My boss is calling me!" "I believe in you" Always fake 😔 Now who's gonna help me pee

The fucking dog? 😔

If he doesn't help you pee, LEAVE HIM! /hj

Favorite Part

When he leaves us 😔

Frick you Juro 🖕🏽 FRICK YOU /j

Rayting

0/10 cuz you made me spell wrong

NO I KID 300 OUTTA 10 💓💓💓

Why did I say outta instead of putting a slash..

This took me 40 minutes to write 😭

GN OR GM OR GA

toe

Author’s Note: my condolences to toes everywhere. 😔 Originally intended to title this “pinkie toe”, but it wouldn’t show up in tags, hence “toe” instead. 😐😂

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

CW: explicit language

Emergency Request Fulfilled: I think I just broke my pinkie toe lmaoo and I just had a moment of damn what would Kyo do if his s/o just happened to do the same dumbass thing I did which was

Turn the music that was blasting out the stereo off go downstairs to grab a thing and there was a dirty cloth on the floor and I went to kick it into the washing and proceeded to kick the corner of the wall with just my pinkie toe

It hurts and is very swollen lmao

Keep reading

#juro churro #i need sleep #big hoe isn't a tag either?#man 😔

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taeken-my-heart · 5 years ago

Text

Moirai Chapter 12

Summary: On your 18th birthday a name appears on your wrist. The name of your soulmate. It’s a momentous day that everyone looks forward to, but you’ve always brushed aside; refusing to believe in a fickle mistress called destiny. But what happens when on the morning of your 18th birthday you wake to find the name of your mortal enemy? Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre: Soulmates au/ Enemies to lovers au. Angst, fluff, bickering, romance, eventual smut.

Word Count: 5651

Chapter notes: Nothing terrible, a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff. The usual, haha

++++

Work came far too early the next day and you tiredly rubbed your eyes as you made your way towards the nurse’s station where Lizzy was standing, a coffee in her outstretched hand.

"Wow, you weren't lying when you texted you looked like a zombie." She quipped, "Aren't you glad I got you a pick me up?"

"Always an angel." You murmured, pulling the coffee to your lips and sighing into it as you leaned your elbows against the counter.

"So, I saw him." Lizzy replied smoothly.

"Who?" You asked, eyes still firmly shut as you focused on not sleeping where you stood.

"Dr. Jeon, of course." Lizzy sighed, slapping your arm.

"Oh." You said, eyes opening and staring down at your paper cup. Honestly, you'd forgotten about him in the aftermaths of a late night giving physical comfort to Jimin and an early morning at the hands of the sweltering heat.

"Oh?" Lizzy repeated blankly, "Y/N, no physical description does him justice and all you can say is oh? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," you said softly, "just really tired. Didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh," Lizzy smirked, "really? What exactly was keeping you up, my dear friend?"

"Take a wild guess." You chuckled and Lizzy squealed like a teenage girl. "You act like you haven't gotten any in months!" You complained.

"I haven't!" She whined, "I'm living vicariously through you so you have to be generous with me."

"I am not sharing the details of my sex life with you, Lizzy." You smirked and she pouted.

"Well, the least you could do is give me regular updates of the good doctor."

“Lizzy!" You complained, "I've got better things to do, you know. Besides, I have a boyfriend and I don't think he'd like me paying so much attention to another man."

"Again, I am living vicariously through you. My appetite must be filled or I cannot be responsible for my actions." She insisted.

The doors to your right suddenly swung open and you glanced over to find Jungkook walking towards the nurse’s station, already dressed in his scrubs and dark hair pushed back across his head.

You watched as Lizzy practically drooled and you had to stifle your groan. "I was told you had a file for the Gibbons surgery." Jungkook said, coming to stand beside you at the nurse’s station, his gaze trained on Lizzy.

"Oh, yes I do, let me just grab that for you." She squeaked.

You stood silently, staring at the wall and squeezing your coffee just a little too tight and you noticed Jungkook incline his head towards you. "Good morning, doctor."

"Ah, yes, good morning." You replied awkwardly.

"You slept well; I trust?"

"Yes, I slept fine, thank you."

Jungkook nodded silently before the two of you plunged back into silence and Lizzy finally found the file, frowning at you with furrowed eyebrows as she handed him the file. "Here you are, Dr. Jeon."

"Thank you." He replied, flipping it open and waltzing back through the doors he'd come through.

"What the hell was that?" Lizzy asked.

"What was what?" You asked, casually.

"Oh, no, no. You can't act all coy and avoid the elephant in the room. The air was so tense just now, even I could feel it and I'm pretty oblivious. What happened between you and the good doctor? You only met him yesterday!"

You sighed, fiddling with the lid of your drink and shrugging. "Look, it would take too long to explain and right now I honestly am not in the mood for it. I'll explain it to you someday...maybe."

Lizzy pouted and you smiled softly. "Well, I suppose I can't pry it out of you, but just know I will probably die of curiosity."

"That's a shame," you hummed, "I was really growing fond of you." Lizzy's expression turned sour and you laughed, lifting your cup at her and backing away. "I'll see you later."

++++

Today you were spending most of the day in the blissful clutches of labor and delivery. Under normal circumstances you hated the labor and delivery unit. There were moments of reprieve where the mothers were thanking you profusely for the gift of an epidural but usually there was a lot of shouting and screaming, especially if you couldn't make it to their room in the 2.5 seconds after they requested your services.

However, anywhere that was not forcing you into Jungkook's company was a welcome relief and since he was spending the majority of his morning in trauma surgery, you were happy to greet your new favorite ward.

"You've got an epidural in room 12." One of the nurses sighed in lieu of a greeting. "She's been asking for you for the last 30 minutes in between crying and hitting her husband for ‘putting her through this.’"

"Oh goody." You smiled. "I suppose I'll head that way, then."

You were honestly trying to like the maternity unit, you really were. Babies and life were beautiful things and of course you knew that, but the ugly head of debilitating pain always reared its head in the form of screaming mother's to be and that could be overwhelming for even the most practiced of physicians. You were more used to your patients making no noise at all because 9 times out of 10 you were assigned to some sort of surgery that didn't involve neonatal work but there was always that occasion. Today you at least had 2 cesarean sections and that was an area you felt you could thrive in.

Despite your best efforts at keeping a positive attitude, you were absolutely exhausted by the time you slouched into your seat in the cafeteria and Lizzy looked up at you from her yogurt and grinned. "Babies got you down?"

"No!" You insisted, sitting straighter, "in fact, I'm having the time of my life over there. I'm just tired from last night, that's all."

"OK." Lizzy grinned and you rolled your eyes at her.

"So how has your morning been?" You asked, unrolling your sandwich and picking through it for any tomatoes and dropping them on Lizzy's plate.

"I suppose I can't complain. I really only had to draw a couple vials of blood and give one sponge bath. You know I'm jinxing myself right now, though, right?"

"Probably," you admit with a grin, "you'll have to let me know how things go the rest of your shift."

"What about you, Ms. L&D? How's your shift really going?"

You shrugged, swallowing your bite. "It's OK, the usual, you know? There is a sense of freedom, though."

"Really? Normally you say it makes you feel like you've been given a prison sentence."

You laughed, nodding and crumbling the sandwich wrapper in your hands as you gobbled half the sandwich in one bite. At this rate, trying to avoid conversation with your friend was going to cause indigestion. "Yeah, that's normally the case. Today isn't so bad though, I find I suddenly have the stomach for it."

"What changed?"

"The scenery."

"The scenery?" Lizzy asked, eyebrows rising, "I don't get it. Did they get some new potted plants or something?"

You glanced down at your watch before standing and stretching. "Hey, I've gotta go take a quick power nap before I head back to maternity. We can chat later, OK?"

"Fine," Lizzy pouted, "but you've gotta stop avoiding my questions. I'm just going to keep asking."

"I know you will." You grinned, popping the last bite of sandwich into your mouth and walking away with a wave.

++++

The on-call room in your hospital was an unfortunate mix of three sets of bunk beds, one single twin, and a mini fridge on a small wooden table that looked like it was about to give up the ghost. Thankfully no one was in there when you arrived so you dropped down onto the one single mattress (the coveted single twin was prime real estate in the room) and flipped yourself back to bury your head in the pillow. You had an hour until your next scheduled appointment (unless you got paged) and you intended to use the opportunity catching up on the sleep you'd missed last night.

Just as your eyelids were becoming heavy with sleep the door clicked softly as it opened and closed and you pouted, keeping your eyes firmly shut as you grasped at the tendrils of sleep now escaping your vision.

"Sorry." Came the soft baritone and you resisted the urge to shiver. His voice had always been deep but age had served to deepen it further.

"It's fine." You mumbled, refusing to open your eyes to look at him, even as he took the bottom bunk beside you. You could hear the springs squeaking as he shifted a few times and almost smiled. "If you're looking for a comfortable way to lay, you'll be hard pressed to find it. The beds here are all a bit sad, aside from this single mattress that Dr. Watson affectionately named "Bertha"."

"Charming name." Jungkook quipped. "You don't happen to need to leave in the next few minutes, do you?"

You smiled, opening your eyes and glancing at the clock by the door. "I've still got 40 minutes."

"OK," He sighed, "well dibs after you leave."

"Fair enough." You nodded, closing your eyes.

"So," Jungkook murmured after a few minutes and you began to resign yourself to the idea that you probably weren't going to be getting much sleep. "I never knew you had an interest in medicine."

"To be fair, we never really 'knew' each other."

"We did when we were kids." He said softly and you opened your eyes, turning to look at him.

"Yes, we were friends when we were kids but then you got pretty mean for a while. Never did give me a satisfying reason why, either."

He sighed, shrugging. "Because I was a stupid kid. I really don't have a good excuse for my behavior back then. I just hated that we were always forced together by our mom's and I took it out on you, even though it wasn't your fault. I guess it was right around the time that I started making friends with the other boys around and they were kind of mean about girls so I just started reflecting what I was seeing. I am sorry, though."

You chewed on the inside of your lip as you pondered your next words. "Doesn't really explain what happened in high school or, you know, when we got these." You raised your wrist slightly for him to see his name, partially obscured by the green of your scrubs.

"I didn't know what I really wanted back then." He sat up suddenly, leaning forward onto his knees and wringing his hands together. "See, the thing is-"

The chirping of your pager interrupted his next words and you glanced down at the message, frowning. "Someone is begging for an epidural up in L&D." You mumbled. Standing, you shoved your hands through your hair to try and tame it and readjusted the elastic of your pants. "Sorry."

You didn’t give him any time to reply before walking through the door and back out towards the maternity ward. The rest of the day was spent too busy to even breathe and by the time your shift ended you were slumping towards the door that hid your car from view.

“Doctor Y/L/N! Y/N, wait!” You turned to watch as Jungkook came to a halt by your side. “I’m off in 20 minutes, I was hoping we could grab a coffee or something and continue our conversation from this afternoon.”

“I don’t really think it’s such a good idea,” you said softly. “I’ve gotta get home to make dinner for my boyfriend and considering who you are…well, I don’t think Jimin would like that so much.”

“Considering who I am, maybe I could have 5 minutes of your time to just explain myself.”

“We talked about this, Jungkook.” You frowned.

“Y/N, I was 18 years old-”

You could see Lizzy walking down the hallway towards the two of you and the last thing you needed right now was to explain what your history was with the new surgical resident so you shook your head and stepped towards the door.

“I’ve gotta go, Dr. Jeon. Let’s just leave the past in the past, OK? Enjoy the rest of your shift.”

++++

Later that evening after you’d finished eating and the AC repair man had come and gone you looked up at the clock on the mantle, frowning. It was 9 o’clock and Jimin still wasn’t home. Sometimes things did run later with divorce cases and especially with this new couple, but he’d been strangely quiet the last few hours, normally he was sending you at least one eye rolling emoji if things ran overtime but so far…nothing.

You were lying in bed with a book before you heard the sound of his keys in the lock. Shuffling feet and a softly placed brief case met your ears before you finally saw him stepping through the door. “You’re home late.” You murmur softly and he jumped in surprise.

“You scared me.” He chuckles, before stripping down to his boxers and climbing into bed, laying his head against your stomach and sighing. “I’m sorry I’m home so late.”

“Why didn’t you text me?” You questioned, running your fingers through his hair.

“Didn’t really get the opportunity.” You can hear the frown in his voice and in turn you found yourself frowning.

“Normally you manage to find time.” You wish you had better control of the bite in your voice but as it was you were too emotionally exhausted to really try.

Jimin sat up to look at you, leaning against the headboard. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“What was the giveaway?” You mumbled, pulling your book back into your lap and resuming the page you were on last.

Jimin sighed, pushing his hair out of his face. “Baby, I was honestly just really busy today. On top of all of my other cases, I had three new clients today in office and then had to go into court to oversee the completion of one of our divorces and sign a ton of paper work. Then, to top it all off, Mrs. Johnson wanted to meet to discuss some details of the divorce with her husband. He’s trying to shift some funds into another account outside of the country or something, I don’t know. Look, you know I would have messaged you if I could have, I just really didn’t have time.”

“You’ve had busier days than that before and managed to find time, I don’t know why today was so different.” You sniffed, putting your book down and sliding under the covers, turning out your light. “Let’s just talk in the morning, I’m tired.”

“Babe,” Jimin groaned, flipping you onto your back and hovering his face over yours, stroking his thumb down your cheek. “Come on, tomorrow is our anniversary. Please, let’s not fight. I want to enjoy our day off together.”

You sigh, rubbing your eyes and nodding. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just really stressed at work these days. “

“Is something going on? Someone bothering you?” He asked gently, peering down at you in the dark.

This was not the time for this conversation. What were you supposed to do, tell your boyfriend that your soulmate had reentered your life? That he was trying to make amends and “talk”? That was a conversation you did not foresee going well so you smiled, shaking your head.

“No, nothing like that. Just medical stuff, you know. I was back in the labor and delivery department today; you know how I feel about that.”

“Will you be there next shift?” He asked, laying his hand across your stomach.

“No, they only need me sometimes. Usually Dr. Gray takes those shifts but she was out of town so I was filling in. I don’t know, work has just been stressful and I know it’s not your fault. I just felt upset that you didn’t call or text or anything.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know what was going on. I’ll be more mindful of it in the future, I promise.”

“Thank you, baby.” You whispered, reaching up to kiss him softly. “Did you think about anything you wanted to do tomorrow?”

Jimin smiled, wrapping his arm tight around your waist and pouting in thought. “I for sure want to sleep in, then some lazy sex, breakfast in bed, the usual.”

“And who’s making the breakfast, hmm?” You teased and he grinned.

“We’ll order in, how about that?”

“That sounds perfect.”

“I’m gonna go get ready for bed.” He yawned, standing from the bed and stretching his hands above his head, “you gonna be asleep by the time I get back?”

“Most likely.” You grinned.

“Well then, see you in the morning, my love.” He leaned over, kissing soft into your lips and you sighed, linking your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.

“Goodnight.” You whispered against his mouth.

++++

You woke to the smell of pancakes, inhaling deeply and rolling to your side, hand flailing out against an empty mattress. Eyes blinking blearily open, you glanced around your room, but Jimin was nowhere to be seen.

You could hear pans banging in the kitchen and you smiled, laying back against your mattress. The cotton of your duvet brushed against bare legs and you stretched your arms above your head. You liked the idea of Jimin making you breakfast in bed, though he wasn’t very quiet about it.

You stood, long shirt drooping to your knees and made your way out into the living room. Jimin stood at the counter top, carefully cracking eggs, but when you entered the room he whined loudly, stomping his foot. “Ah, you’re supposed to still be asleep. I wanted to surprise you.” He pouted.

You smiled, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I was thinking…maybe we could skip the food and go straight to dessert.” You whispered, nipping at his chin and he turned to look down at you, eyes darkening.

“Trust me, you’re gonna wanna eat. You’ll need a lot of energy for what I have in store.” He replied; husky.

Your stomach churned with electricity, chest crackling in excitement. “I like the sound of that. I don’t wanna wait, though.”

You kissed at his jaw, making your way towards his lips and he melted into you, mouth hot against your own as you opened to him, running a hand across his lower abdomen. “Mmm, food first, you naughty baby.” He replied, slapping you hard on the butt and you yelped, glaring before sulking back to the bedroom.

“I was thinking we could lounge and watch a movie today.” Jimin said, walking back into the bedroom a few minutes later with a tray full of food. You held it for him as he sat down, placing it in the center and grabbing for a piece of toast.

“Did you have a movie in mind?” You asked, turning to look at him.

He shook his head, pushing his fork into one of the sausages on his plate and taking a bite. “No, you can choose.”

“What if I choose something so horrendously sappy that you want to vomit?”

“Then I would still love you,” he said, tilting his head to the side, “but I’d have to go to therapy for all the damage inflicted. On your dime, of course.”

“Of course.” You nodded, grabbing a grape from the fruit bowl on the tray and popping it into your mouth.

“Let’s finish breakfast and then we can watch a movie.”

“What about sex?” You pouted and he smirked, tweaking your nose.

“Who said we need to be in the bedroom for that? We could multitask, you know.”

“I like the sound of that.” You purred, leaning over to give him a kiss.

++++

Later that evening, after making dinner together and laughing late into the night, lounging back into the cushions of the couch. Jimin ran to grab something from the bedroom, promising a big surprise. You watched after him as his figure disappeared into the dark of your bedroom, heart thumping eagerly in your chest.

He returned shortly, a small gift bag in his hand and grinned, sitting down beside you. “I wanted to get you something special. We’ve been together 8 years now, which is incredible, don’t you think? Anyway. This year just feels really special and I wanted to get you something big; something that would remind you how much I love you.”

Your heart raced in your chest; pounding against your ribcage. A small, blue velvet box rested inside the bag and you reached in, breath stilling in your lungs. Jimin watched you eagerly, eyes bright and lips rubbing together in anticipation as you slowly opened the box.

“Oh…” A pair of sapphire earrings blinked up at you from the cushion of their casing. Nothing like the engagement ring you’d been expecting.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, eyebrows drawing together.

“Nothing. They’re beautiful, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I…I just assumed…” You trailed off, bottom lip wobbling. All that anticipation built up and still…no ring.

“What did you assume?”

“Are you ever going to propose?” You whispered, and you could already feel the burn of your eyes filling with tears.

Jimin sighed, rubbing at his temples in aggravation and laying back into the couch. “Y/N, I really don’t like when you pressure me.”

“When have ever I pressured you?” You cried, swiping at a tear as it slipped down your cheek. “I’ve never said anything!”

“It’s not with words, baby. You think I haven’t seen the magazines you leave around, wedding rings, wedding dresses, ring sizes? I’m not obtuse, Y/N. I know you want to get married and I know we’ve been together a long time, but I’m just not there yet. Marriage is just a social construct, like soulmates. Just the government and the media trying to get us to do what they want.”

“What?” You gaped, brushing angrily at the tears staining your cheeks, “where is this even coming from? You’ve never told me you thought so poorly of marriage. We both agreed that we don’t like the whole soulmates thing, but marriage? I thought we were on the same page! It’s been 8 years, Jimin!”

“I just don’t know if I’m a marriage type of guy!” He huffed and you glared at him.

“You should have figured that out 8 years ago before dragging me along and wasting my time. I could have been married by now.”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. I didn’t say I don’t want to get married, I said I don’t know if I do.”

“That’s practically the same thing.” You hissed, pulling your arm away from him as he reached out for you. You stood, legs wobbling with emotion.

“Y/N, I love you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and right now if I pushed myself to get married, I feel like it would really ruin a good thing. Please, just give me more time. You’re the only one I could ever actually envision myself marrying.”

“Then why won’t you?” You fussed, crossing your arms over your chest. He ruffled his hair in aggravation, standing and walking towards you carefully, watching your every move as though you might take off running, before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

“I love you. More than anyone in this entire world and I want to share my life with you. I just don’t know if I’m ready for marriage right now. I’m only 31.”

“How much longer are you going to make me wait?” You whispered, “I can’t wait around forever. I want a marriage and children, Jimin. Don’t string me along if you really don’t want that.” You looked up at him, his dark hair hanging down into his eyes.

“Just give me a little more time.” He pleaded, pulling you tighter into him, “please.”

You sighed, heart heavy in your chest. In the end, you couldn’t imagine life without him. He was your best friend and the only man you’d ever really wanted. You were willing to wait a little while longer. “Fine,” you agreed, “but you need to figure this out, Jimin. I can’t wait around forever and I won’t. I deserve more than that.”

“You’re right.” He agreed, “I promise I’ll be thinking about it and I’ll give you an answer. Just give me…just give me a year, one year. Please.”

“OK.” You nodded, “One year. But then you’ll have to make up your mind. Marriage and children may not be important to you, but it’s important to me.”

“I can accept that.” He nodded, leaning down to nudge his nose against yours. You melted against him, lips warm against yours and you inhaled deeply as you pulled away. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, pulling from his arms and retrieving the gift he’d gotten you. “I was thinking…I got you a gift too and it’s in the bedroom. Why don’t I wear both your gift and my gift…and nothing else?”

Jimin grinned wolfishly, holding your hair out of your face as you slid the earrings into place. “That sounds like a really good idea.”

You looked up at him and he smiled, running the pad of his thumb against your ear. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, grabbing his hand and leading him into the bedroom.

++++

“So, I was thinking. We should do a welcome dinner for Dr. Jeon. It’s been two weeks now and I’m looking for an excuse to get obnoxiously drunk and not be judged for it. Plus, getting to look at his face for a couple hours is like a cherry on top of that already beautiful cake.” Lizzy spun her straw in her drink, feet kicked up on the seat across the table from her.

You glanced down beside you, the dirty soles of her sketchers greeting you. She smiled at you, cheek dimpled and you took another bite of your mashed potatoes. Somehow, by the grace of the gods, you’d been giving a longer lunch than normal, so you’d indulged in calorie dense cafeteria food to sooth you.

“Your bias is showing.” You said, staring over at her, spoon hanging from your bottom lip and she scoffed.

“I’m not biased! We’ve always had a welcome dinner for new doctors so it’s not like it’s a weird thing to suggest. I wouldn’t even be surprised if one was already being planned by the supe. Come on, where’s your party spirit?”

“Left it at home.” You shrugged, picking at the roll on your plate. It was a little stale, but it was cafeteria food, after all.

“Is this seat taken?” You looked up to find Jungkook standing beside you, peering down at the seat that Lizzy’s feet currently occupied. Lizzy quickly sat up, dropping her feet back down to the ground and smiling wide, waving for him to sit down.

“No, of course not! Sit down doctor. We were actually just talking about you!”

You glared over at her and she smiled pretty, pushing a corkscrew curl out of her face. Jungkook took the seat beside you, the legs of his chair squealing against the linoleum tiles and he looked between the two of you.

“You were talking about me?” He asked, eyes wide, “good things, I hope.” He smiled and you could practically see Lizzy melt.

“Of course.” She giggled, twirling a strand of hair around her finger and you looked at her like she’d sprouted a third head. She cleared her throat, sitting up straighter and leaning forward. “Actually, we were just talking about how we should throw you a welcome dinner. We do it for all the new doctors, or at least the ones we like.”

Jungkook chuckled good-naturedly and you wanted to die. “Ah, yeah, Dr. Ramirez actually mentioned that to me earlier. I think he said the administration is planning one for this Saturday night.”

“Excellent!” Lizzy beamed, “we usually do it in the breakroom since we can’t all take the night off to go out to eat, but we can spare a few minutes to stop by and say hello. Plus, the catering is pretty rad so it’s good for moral.”

You smiled, nodding, “I’m certainly never opposed to free food.”

Jungkook looked over at you, lips quirking at the edges and you looked back down at your food. “Sounds like it’ll be a good time, then.”

Lizzy’s pager beeped and she swore, looking down at it with a sigh. “Duty calls. Anyway, Y/N, I’ll find you later before I leave. I’ve got a dentist appointment so I’m gonna be leaving a little earlier today.”

You nodded, waving her off and she smiled, waving to the two of you before making her way out of the cafeteria and out of sight. You could feel your shoulders, coiled in tension as the sleeve of Jungkook’s scrubs rubbed against yours. He said nothing for a moment, just munching at one of the meatballs from off of his spaghetti and you took another bite of your potatoes.

They were nearly gone and you mourned their loss.

“I like your earrings.” He said suddenly and you looked up at him, fingers going to touch the sapphire studs in your ears.

“Thank you. They’re from Jimin, for our 8 year anniversary.”

“He chose well,” he remarked, looking down at you, “they really suit you. He’s a lucky guy.”

“Thank you.” You murmured, shoving a large bite of stale roll in your mouth to occupy yourself. You still had 10 minutes left in your break and didn’t intend to stand on your feet unless you absolutely had to.

“Lizzy seems nice.” He remarked and you nodded.

“She is; she’s my best friend. You gonna try and date her too?”

Jungkook huffed a laugh, looking down at you. “All I said was she’s nice. I’m just trying to make conversation Y/N. I thought you said you don’t want to talk about the past?”

“I don’t.” You sniffed.

“Well, then what would you like to talk about?”

“Preferably nothing.”

“Come on, Y/N, we’re colleagues, let’s try to get along, hmm?” He chuckled as you shook some hair from your face, taking a sip from your water bottle.

“Fine, you’re right. How’s your residency going?” You turned to look at him and he smiled bright. It made your heart ache but you refused to shrink from it.

“Well, it’s only been a couple weeks, but I’m pretty happy with it so far. The people are really nice, the hospitals facilities are excellent. I didn’t think I’d be getting to work with such state of the art technology so that’s been really exciting. Plus, my parents were thinking about coming to visit this weekend so I’ll get the opportunity to bring them to the hospital and show them around before the welcome dinner.”

“How are your parents?” You smiled, “I haven’t seen them in years. I think the last time was just after I graduated with my bachelor’s degree.”

“They’re great. They’ve been traveling around the world a lot. Making me look like a chump with all their cool adventures. What about your family? How are they?”

“They’re all really good. My parents are mostly just chilling. My dad is still working so my mom joined a Zumba club to keep herself entertained. Ella is actually getting married in about 3 months as well, so that’s really exciting.”

“Yeah, she actually sent my family and me an invite. I’m really happy for her.”

“She sent you an invite?” You asked, eyebrows rising.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I know, it seems crazy right? We made amends years ago, though, so all is well.”

“Wait, really?” You asked, turning to face him and he nodded.

“Yeah, she didn’t tell you?” At the shake of your head, he continued, “I was a sophomore in college and one day I just decided to call her and check in, see how she was doing. I wanted to apologize to her for dragging her through so much crap, it was never my intention. I really valued her friendship at a time when I felt like I was going crazy and losing it was pretty painful. We talked it out and she forgave me. I’m really glad she found her soulmate, she deserves to be happy.”

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.” You frowned, finishing off the last bite of your food.

“She probably thought she was sparing you, by not talking about…well, about me. Anyway, yeah, she sent me an invite and I’m excited to say hi to her and Michael. Have you met him yet?”

“Yeah, briefly last year, not long after they met.” You said, distracted. Your pager suddenly beeped and you glanced down at it. “Ah, I’ve gotta go, but it was nice talking Jeon.”

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he called as you stood up, grabbing your tray. You paused to look at him. “You’ll be at the dinner, right?”

“I work that night, so I’m sure I’ll sneak in at some point to grab some food.”

“Come say hi?” He asked carefully, “I bet my parents would love to say hi.”

You looked down at him, dark hair swept to the side of his face and looking so handsome you almost couldn’t look away. “Sure,” you quipped with a shrug, “I’ll make sure I say hi.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You nodded before spinning around and going to return your tray, making your way back out into the hallway.

++++

Ahhh. This chapter was so fun to write! The more I write this story, the more I love it. I am so, so excited for the next few chapters to come. Some interesting things are gonna be happening ^^ Also, I have a job interview tomorrow. Wish me luck! <3

Chapter 11

Chapter 13

#btsbookclub #jungkook scenario #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut

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hawkbucks · 5 years ago

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Bucky and Steve’s entire friendship starts when Bucky spots Steve reading a Captain America comic on the playground, promptly sits down next to him, and goes: “You like Captain America? He’s cool, but I think Winter Soldier is better.” Steve, of course, is offended that this kid has the audacity to imply someone is better than his beloved Captain, so they argue about the finer points of the Captain and the Soldier, discussing their actions at such depth that you’d forget they’re just a couple of 3rd graders with scraped knees and wild hair. At the end, they agree to come to the conclusion that the Captain and the Soldier are equally as cool. Whenever they’re able–a.k.a when Bucky saves up enough of his allowance to afford a few issues for him and Steve (because, as much as Steve protests against Bucky buying him things, Bucky knows he wants that Falcon issue)–they head down to the comic store around the corner from their school run by a kindly man named Abraham. Abraham slips them snacks sometimes: bags of chips, candy bars, etc. If they prove they’re doing good at school, they also get free books. Tables and chairs are scattered around the store, usually reserved for the game nights that the store hosts, but Abraham allows them to do their schoolwork on those tables. They try to draw out their visits as long as they can, because they just love exploring the store, and Abraham is such a good guy, you know? One day, when Steve is over at Bucky’s house and they’re watching cartoons, Steve gets an idea. He turns to Bucky and proclaims that they should open up a store together. It’ll be the best store ever! Bucky sagely nods before he runs off to grab a notebook and pencils to plan it. Their store looks as follows: 3 stories at the minimum, and there’ll be a slide leading from each floor to the one below. They’ll have cool statues to put on display, a gigantic collection to sale, and a pyrotechnics display at the cash register at Bucky’s suggestion. And they’ll make a lot of money. It’ll be the best store ever.

Unfortunately, said best store ever ends up being pushed to the back burner once they realize that opening and managing a business isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially for a couple of kids. “We’ll just do it later, when we’re grown ups,” Steve says, and Bucky agrees. They grow older. Steve turns from the shortest kid on the playground to the guy that people have to crane their necks up to talk to (Bucky teases him and says that he’s become the real life Captain America. Steve retorts that that makes Bucky the Winter Soldier), and Bucky grows his hair out, looking more and more like a hipster everyday (which he vehemently denies. “Where’s your manbun?” “I will smack you.”). Interests come and go, but they still find themselves stepping into Abraham’s shop. Abraham’s older now, grayer, but he still slides them Snickers every once in a while. Bucky ends up enlisting in the army to help pay for his tuition while Steve goes to art school to get a degree in illustration. An incident with an IED later, and Bucky comes home with an honorable discharge and an empty left sleeve. Steve visits him as often as he can, usually filling in the gaps when Bucky’s own family isn’t over. Sometimes Natasha (a girl they befriended in middle school after she came dressed as Black Widow for Halloween) and Sam (a boy they got to know during freshman year of high school when he complimented Bucky on his prime taste in superheroes because of the Falcon button pinned to his backpack) drop in, with Natasha keeping him company by watching trashy reality TV with him and Sam listening to him vent and offering a shoulder if he ever needs one. Hell, Abraham sends him a card through Steve when he heard about what happened. (He ends up getting all of them gift baskets as thanks for being there. Sam tries to decline his at first, but the lure of raspberry tarts was too strong.) One day, Steve comes over with Indian takeout and turns on some good ol’ History Channel. “Speaking of history,” Steve says in between bites of naan, “do you remember that store we wanted to open when we were younger?” Hit with that blast from the past, Bucky nods. He doesn’t have the notebook that they used when they first came up with the idea, but he stills remembers the basics of what they put down. Like the pyrotechnics display that he wanted. Steve asks if he’s still open to the idea, and Bucky replies, around a mouthful of rogan josh, that he is. It’s… been a while since he’s gotten out of his apartment to do something other than shop for groceries, pop into the Chinese restaurant right next to the building, or visit the doctor for those couple of appointments about him possibly getting a prosthetic, courtesy of some company that’s looking to do test runs of their new line. A whole bunch of Googling and Binging and Yahoo Answers-ing and they think they might have a slight idea of how to start a business. Slight is the operative word here. Like with many things, they end up going to Abraham for help. Abraham is a godsend, answering all of their questions and offering to point his customer base their way once he closes up shop for good (Steve may or may not have gotten a bit misty-eyed hearing about Abraham’s inevitable retirement). Fast forward, and their shop is open. Steve drew up the logo (gotta put that degree to use somehow), while Bucky was the one who came up with the interior design (and no pyrotechnics displays). Natasha and Sam are hired, with both of them helping to run their social media presence. They get a decent amount of people at their grand opening despite their location being slightly out of the way, and apparently those people liked their experience because they end up getting a handful of regulars, most notably some guy named Clint that Natasha claims to know, a pair of Norwegian brothers named Thor and Loki that Sam swears are actual gods, a timid PhD student named Bruce, and a woman named Carol and her girlfriend, Maria who are the biggest Captain Marvel fangirls that they’ve ever met. Their popularity grows–especially after Abraham closes–and they soon find themselves making a healthy bit of profit. Healthy enough that they’re able to decorate their shop more (Natasha insists that they place a life-sized statute of Black Widow near the front doors) and they tack-on other things, like shirts and posters and snacks to sell. Bucky gets his prosthetic somewhere around the first month that they’ve been open. It’s a wickedly shiny silver, and Steve suggested that he place a red star sticker on his wrist (because his shoulder isn’t visible 99.9% of the time) to represent Bucky’s favorite hero, and Bucky actually does that. Sometimes people ask to touch it. He lets them. Sometimes people ask what happened. He deflects them. At some point, a guy walks in with ruffled hair and glasses and Bucky nearly chokes on the soda that he’s drinking. Sure, they’ve had their fair share of cute customers, but that guy’s cute, and he’s gonna end up making a fool of himself. It’s not like he can ask Steve to talk instead because Steve just went out on his damn lunch break. He tries not to stare at the guy as he peruses the shelves and rifles through the boxes of back issues they have set out in the middle of the floor. He tries really, really hard, taking his phone out and scrolling through whatever social media website and liking the replies to their posts. Every once in a while, he glances at the door, half-expecting Steve to walk in at any time.

Then the guy (now dubbed Cutie in Bucky’s mind) comes up and he smiles at Bucky in greeting and Bucky would probably sob if that wouldn’t make him come off as a complete weirdo. Cutie hauls up a veritable stack and places it on the counter. Despair courses through Bucky’s veins when he sees the Captain America comic on top, because he could do so much better. “Mmm, I’m just getting those because my friend likes Captain America,” Cutie says and oh, shit, did he say that out loud? “I’m partial to Iron Man myself.” “Iron Man’s cool an’ all,” Bucky replies, somehow managing to keep himself from running out the front door and never looking back, “but he’s not my favorite.” Cutie’s eyes flick down to the red star sticker on his wrist. “Let me guess: Winter Soldier?” Bucky clicks his tongue. “Yup.” Cutie laughs, and it’s a really nice sound that Bucky wouldn’t mind hearing again. When he’s finished ringing Cutie up, he mentions the membership that they have going and how members have a pull list and would he like to sign up? Mentally, he crosses his fingers that Cutie says yes because it would be a shame if he only got to see him once in his life. A damn, damn shame.

So, he should be thankful that Cutie says yes and he finds out that Cutie’s name is actually Tony and Tony just moved from Malibu and it was his friend James–whom he calls Rhodey–that recommended this place to him. (He goes through a list of James in his head, and figures that it most likely is James Rhodes, who also happens to be a member. He should send him a gift basket.)

Tony ends up leaving around the same time Steve comes back from his lunch break, and Steve must have this sort of sixth sense because he sends Bucky a knowing, amused look.

Tony drops by every 2nd and 4th Wednesday, and it’s always at 12:40 PM, give or take a few minutes. His pull list isn’t particularly long–or at least, it isn’t something that he needs to drop in twice a month for, but Bucky’s not going to complain, not when he’s able to see the way Tony’s eyes sparkle when the topic crosses over to a story arc that he’s passionate about or the way the tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips when he becomes engrossed in what he’s reading. They swap stories, with Bucky finding out that Tony used to be in the robotics club when he was in high school and how his father used to tell him that comics were all “bullshit,” so that threw him off of them for a bit. He always asks Bucky if he recommends something before he leaves, if he saw that episode of Game of Thrones, or if he’s simply feeling okay.

Tony’s visits last longer and longer and longer, until it’s basically just him and Bucky talking for hours on end, their topics ranging from comic cons to what they had for dinner last night. (Steve laments how he’s always the one stuck helping customers because he doesn’t have the heart to interrupt him and Tony when they look so concentrated on each other. He begs Bucky to just ask Tony out already because he can’t take it anymore.)

Bucky ends up asking Tony out on accident. Y’see, Tony was excitedly talking about the movie adaption of Iron Man that’s supposed to be coming out soon, and Bucky blurted out that he wouldn’t mind taking Tony out to see it, just the two of ‘em and some popcorn.

Tony says that he’d love to, and Bucky wonders if he should thank Steve for going out to lunch those few months ago.

#pull list au

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ftpthemovement · 4 years ago

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I Quit.

You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world. 1 John 4:4

The enemy has no business in your head, in your heart, in your thoughts, or in your ways. For all of your days, the only place he belongs is under your foot. For God has given you a spirit not to be timid, but strong and courageous. It is your opportunity to display his works and far greater! You have been commissioned with the power of love to break every strong hold in your life, and to help lead others out of the dominion of darkness, into Gods restorative love, light, and liberty, a freedom that very few have ever known.

Why not burst forth from mans traditions and typical presets, into a thunderous roar of righteousness!? A bar set to high for the world to climb. A power that only the Holy Spirit can comprehend. To speak a word of knowledge and truth, saturated in love, grace, and mercy. A message of overcoming evil with good. A message of greater is he that’s in you than that which lives in the world. A seat shaking, get on your feet, go out the doors, and don’t come back until you’ve reached somebody with the gospel!

How long will we set and pray for a harvest, when God has given us the seeds of blessing to go plant into the world? Some say bring others in, but we should be sending others out, and not let them back in until the work is complete. What does that mean? It means good leaders duplicate leaders. Scripture says, Though Christ was Son, He learned obedience through suffering. What do these two have in common? God SENT his only begotten son into the world. Meditate that for a hot minute. God bankrupted heaven for us, and SENT his son, as we are to GO, and SEND others into the world. Christ set the very example of how we should be living, and we can view it throughout the whole New Testament.

The Christ I follow didn’t stand in a pulpit every Sunday and say come to me. His earthly ministry wasn’t built around a building, it was built around his body in motion, out spreading the gospel, and thousands followed him daily. He didn’t say, “Come here be a bringer.” He said, “Follow me,” as he sat the example of what being a follower of the way was to look like. 2000 years later this is is what we have? Busy preachers, running church business, not going out to spread the gospel, just praying for a harvest to of increase to walk through the doors. Mans tradition, or Gods will?

Does your heart not burn with the prompting of the Holy Spirit yet? Turn to 1 Corinthians 11:1 “Be imitators of me, as I imitate Christ.” Paul himself basically told people, “Yo, you wanna see Christ, and live how he lived, do as I do, livid how I live, and then you will know him.” Does your life confidently reflect Christ enough, that you would stand before God himself and say, “I told them to live how I live and do as I do, so they would know who you are and what you are about.” Isn’t that what being an ambassador of Christ is all about?

Isn’t that why we have been given his spirit to “GO” spread the gospel and baptize in the name of The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit. Isn’t that why Christ said we would do the same in the world as he did and far greater? Truthfully, how many of us are pursuing a life we want to live and asking God to bless it, instead of living the life God has intended for us all along? Read that question agian. How many of us filter the gospel through the framework of our comfort and traditions? Read both of those questions three more times and take Atleast a few minutes to really be transparent with yourself and think on it. Do you ask for his blessing yet we settle for comfort and complacency, when Christ himself said FOLLOW me? Do you think Abraham wanted to uproot his family to wander the desert and he himself not even see the end of his destiny? But, did he choose comfort and complacency, or the discipline of God? What about 40+ years in the desert Moses spent, what about being Elijah being provided food by ravens? Did our ancestors have easy roads? Stop playing yourself. What’s the real truth of our faith?

The truth is that Jesus Christ set the example of what a follower of Christ looked like, and it had nothing to do with our traditions, comfort, or complacency. It had everything to do with boldness and reliance on faith in Christ to do his will and to finish his mission here on earth. If you read your Bible you will see a reoccurring blueprint set out by God, through Christ, that he put into action, that can clearly be seen in Paul’s ministry as well. A clear cut set of steps that when implemented, had world shaking results on every place they would venture. A power so incredible that 12 guys in the middle of the desert, with no internet, no cell phones, no social media, no cars, no electricity, and barely any resources implemented, and we are taking about it some 2000 years later.

What’s are those steps? Without writing a full book on it, I tried to condense it into 5 easy steps, and here they are:

1. GO into a lost and dying word. Key word here is “GO”. A prophet doesn’t receive a prophets reward in his own hometown or in his own family. Are you running around your home time expecting massive hand of God to move, because Christ himself (God in a body) was limited to even what he could do around his own family and own hometown due to their lack of faith. Why do you think Christ said, “GO” and see what God does outside of your comfort zone and traditional customs.

2. Spread the good news and the gospel. Where? Anywhere! Immediately some think, “Ohh we gotta go build a building and church plant.” When you could take an alternative route and use that same money that would build a building and pump it into the local community you are looking to refresh. What’s the difference? One is another building on another road with another steeple, vs being a blessing to the local community. This refreshment can help thousands of families. Christ would go into a town and be a blessing and heal people and go into their community and spread the word through love action and truth. He didn’t go into a community build a building and say, “Come see me on Sunday and Wednesday at these specific times, as for most the other time I’ll be busy with church meetings and other business. Some might say, “Where are we going to meet? A Park, in homes, in street corners, coffee shops! Well what if it gets too big!? Widen your reach and use the resources you already have available to you. If the people you have blessed want a building, they will build it. Your focus should be focused on number three.

3. To those that listen, you gather them. Gather them where? Re read step two. “Where two or more or gathered in my name, I am in the midst.” Jesus said that, so it only takes two bro. You don’t need pews to have circles. You don’t need a building to have blessing. You don’t need massive overhead to have ridiculous success with the gospel. You just have to have the will and determination to serve God. As for gathering, We have way too much technology to be able to reach thousands of people. Covid should have taught you that. We can meet in groups, and do life with one another in a number of ways. I’m not gonna write a list here, but what I will say, no matter how you plan on meeting, don’t forsake the assembly. Gathering together face to face not being controlled by worldly fear, is a powerful move of faith, and I personally belive without judgment, it should never be supplemented by a screen. Moving on.

4. Those that you gather you disciple. How do you disciple? By leading by example. Going into a lost and dying world and spreading the good news and the gospel through action and truth. Looking after widows and orphans in their affliction, looking after the homeless, remembering those in prison as if we were there with them. Being a blessing to as many as we can, as often as we can, by showing love, care, generosity, and compassion. Did this say, “Place myself higher than the people on a pulpit, speak to them the word of God, and then walk off stage and go about my business, to answer emails from congregants on how they think the church should be and what they want changed?” No! I’m saying “Hey follow me, as I take the lead and go out into the world and follow Christ.” Gather together and let’s go be a blessing to others, let’s show the love of Christ to others through our daily actions, and provide resources to them that help them know God without a dependency on man. Let’s get together and worship, and walk out discipleship out through putting the word into action. Let’s take our tithes and put it into spreading the gospel, and helping groups that are already in motio, by blessings them with resources through our abundance, so that we can share in the mission, as partners in the harvest.

5. Once you have created disciples, you appoint leaders. Then it’s rinse and repeat it another town.

There’s so much more I want to say. Because gods spirit in me is really just getting started. I never know who makes it to the bottoms of these, but for those of you that do, I pray you find encouragement in your spirit. As you read scripture, look intently at the key example Christ set. The blueprint of his actions are these five things. The blueprint that Paul himself follows exactly inline with Christ and these steps that have been laid before you. If you read the New Testament you will clearly see scripture is a call to action. For Gods people to become so powerful through his spirit that they would do what Christ did and far greater. That his people would become ambassadors of his word, and be commissioned by God through Christ, to go spread the good news of the gospel and baptize in the name of The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit. Then he would be with them until the end of age.

“For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might FOLLOW in his steps.” 1 Peter 2:21

And calling the crowd to him with his disciples, he said to them, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and FOLLOW me. Mark 8:34

You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should GO and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you. These things I command you, so that you will love one another.

If anyone serves me, he must FOLLOWED me; and where I am, there will my servant be also. If anyone serves me, the Father will honor him. John 12:26

And he said to them, FOLLOW ME and I will make you fishers of men.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. And going on from there he saw two other brothers, James the son of Zebedee and John his brother, in the boat with Zebedee their father, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him. And he went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction among the people. ... They left what to do what?

After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth. And he said to him, “Follow me.” And leaving everything, he rose and followed him. And Levi made him a great feast in his house, and there was a large company of tax collectors and others reclining at table with them. And the Pharisees and their scribes grumbled at his disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” And Jesus answered them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Luke 5:27-33. What did he leave? Everything.

Go therefore and make disciples of , ALL THE NATIONS, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Amen.

These are but a few examples that I hope you find encouraging. The days of mans tradition are about to be laid to waste. The ways of old are passing with respect to their generation, the torch is being passed. A rag tag montley crew that the world has rejected has been given the torch by God almighty, to finish the mission. The line is drawn in the sand between those who proclaim his name, and those who live out his will through action and in truth. The time has come. From the front lines, -ES

#ftpthemovement #eliasstrategos

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divineluce · 5 years ago

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Ink About It || Remmy & Luce

Location: Ink Inc.

Notes: Remmy comes in to ease a burden that’s being weighing on their mind. Luce both helps and attempts to hurt.

Remmy had a secret. It was nestled on the back of their left shoulder, and it was a simple tattoo. It listed the names of their squadmates, in order of rank. And their dog tag numbers, with a circle around them. Simple, easy. If one of us dies, we all get the name crossed out. It was a little morbid, really, but they’d all been young and dumb. And doing this had felt like it brought them closer together. It was supposed to motivate them to all stay safe. To remind them that they had people to look out for, other than themselves. And to carry their memories on their back, always, even if they were gone. But Remmy had never gone back to get it finished. The thought of getting all their names crossed out felt...too heavy. They wanted a better way to remember them, to commemorate them. To move on from their loss. But they couldn’t figure out what they wanted to do with it, the list of names on their shoulder. Like a laundry list of all the things they’d done wrong. All the people they’d let down. It was time to change that. Breathing in-- a still comforting gesture, despite the lack of need-- they went up to the parlor doors and pushed them open. The little bell ran as they entered and they glanced up, before looking back inside. They hadn’t really planned on coming here so abruptly, but acting on impulse was something Remmy was trying to do more of. It was time to get out of such a regimented lifestyle, stuck in military time. There was someone at the front desk, a woman, looking a little bored and a little distracted. “Um, hi,” Remmy said as they scooted up to the counter, “I um...I don’t have an appointment or anything, but like, I was hoping to maybe talk to someone about uh, an alteration. To an existing tattoo. If that’s, if like--” they paused, “if that’s okay.”

Rolling a pencil across her fingers, Luce looked at the clock. Fucking hell, it’d already been 40 minutes. She was calling it. “We gotta no show. Again.” She said, poking her head out of her room. Leave it to Dario to schedule another flake for her, christ. Which meant she’d come in for nothing. At least she’d had time to work on a few designs of her own, but this was getting frustrating. She was trying to make money here, and fewer asses in the chair meant less money in her wallet, simply speaking. At least she was gonna be making money off her cabin. Her sweet, amazing, beautiful cabin… that her mom had forced her to move out off. Resting her head on her hand, she looked at her sketchbook for a second, contemplating the design she’d been working on for the new girl to the coven. What was her name? M- something. Melissa? Mallory? Morga--Morgan. Yeah, that’s the one. As she worked on the preliminary sketches, the little bell over the door rang out and she heard someone talking nervously with the receptionist. Popping her head out the door, Luce walked out to the main area of the shop. “We take walk-ins. And it’s your lucky day. I’m Luce,” She stuck out a hand, “What are you looking to get done?” She asked.

Remmy startled slightly when someone came out of the back room and over to the front desk. “Oh, hi! Hello, I--” they paused, taking in her sight. She was oddly familiar. Long, dark hair, that looked almost as dark as the night outside. Piercing eyes. Tattoos up each arm. A tank top that dipped a little lower down her sides than usual, and pants that were...form fitting. Remmy felt their throat close up. “Ye-eah. Yup. I’m lucky! I mean-- I’m Remmy. I mean, I’m here for a tattoo. Well not a tattoo, I already have one. I want it like-- uh, altered? I need it-- yup. Altered. That’s what I’m here for. Right now. Um...Oh!” They finally reached out to take her hand, noticing that it was warmer-- kinda like Bea’s-- before stepping back a little. “Are you the artist? Do you like, um-- I...don’t really know how this works. Sorry.”

Eyebrow raising as the person began to stumble through their words, Luce nodded. Another nervous nellie. Which, given her own sister’s fear of needles, not an entirely inaccurate saying either. As they continued to ramble on, Luce realized that they were saying something that sounded familiar-- the whole, altering thing. Talking about it like tattoos were a jacket or something. “I think we might have talked about this online, actually. Good to meet you in person. And, you lucked out, Remmy. Because I’ve got a solid 4 hours free.” She said with a slight grimace. Fucking cancellations. She was willing to bet it was probably some guy who got too drunk last night and missed his appointment while nursing a hangover in Al’s. “I’m not the artist. That would be Ulfric, he owns this place. I’m one of the artists who works here consistently. Me and Rory, a handful of others. Come on, let’s talk shop in my workspace.” She said, gesturing for them to follow her back to her private room in the shop. It was a neat and organized place, with a few shelves that had a couple candles, a polished citrine crystal, and some of her artwork hanging on the walls. A pinboard with a bunch of pre-made design stencils filled one wall, the prices written on the corner. “So,” Luce said as she slid into her chair, opening her laptop, “What am I working with and what are you thinking?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Remmy said, trying to recall the conversation. Their thoughts had jumbled that night, after learning about Blanche’s house exorcism gone wrong. But that was in the past and everything was okay now. They could take this time to focus on them, and just them. And not the very attractive person who was now saying things. Things Remmy should probably listen to. Tuning back in, Remmy nodded. “Right, yeah! Let’s-- yeah.” They followed Luce back to her station, eyes wandering. Landing on some of the charcoal drawings hung up on the walls. “Did you do these?” they asked, leaning in a bit closer, but keeping a good distance. They knew not to touch other peoples’ art. They looked almost like some of the things Remmy doodled. Lots of shapes and straight lines. Remmy liked drawing buildings and objects. Things that a calculated mind could easily recreate. They turned back to face her, unsure of where to sit, shuffling around. “Uh, it’s-- I can sh--” they started, but stopped. Showing her meant taking their sweater off. It meant showing someone their tattoo for the first time since they’d gotten back. It was usually always covered. “It’s on my back. It’s um...some names, in a circle. And uh, dog tag chains.”

“I did. Clean lines and geometric work are kind of my thing.” Luce said, tilting her head to the stencils on the wall, “But, I’m also good at a lot of other styles. American traditional, Japanese traditional, black work, you name it, I can do it. I draw the line at new school. I don’t do bubbly graffiti art.” She grimaced. She hated that oversaturated shit. Watching as they looked over the art on her walls, Luce leaned back in her chair, amused. Maybe they were an artist too. Starving artist, by the looks of their clothes. But, that was how it went sometimes. Watching the way they fidgeted, Luce pointed at one of the chairs by the door. “Have a seat. Please.” She added. Maybe the politeness would help their nerves. As they described their tattoo to her, Luce fought to keep her expression neutral. But still... Dog tags. Luce wasn’t a stranger to doing military tattoos and if someone wanted a tattoo with names and dog tags altered? That meant some big shit must have gone down. “Mhm. Okay. What are you thinking about doing with them?”

“Wow, they’re really good,” Remmy said with a genuine awe. They always wondered how people could make such great things, out of their own minds. Glancing back at Luce, they nodded quickly. “Right, yeah. Sit. Okay.” And fell into the chair quickly, stumbling only a little. They looked at her, then down at their shoes. They should’ve worn nicer shoes. And nicer pants. And...not a weird baggy sweater. Remmy smoothed their palms down their thighs before looking up at her again. “Uh, oh. I mean...I don’t really know. What I want to do with it. Just that...I want it to feel better. Um-- sorry, that doesn’t make sense. I mean, I want it to not be...what it is. What it represents? I want it to be...a good thing. Not--” a representation of death. Remmy bit their bottom lip. “I was kinda hoping someone else could help like, figure it out? I’m not all that creative, really. Better with the like, looking at something and drawing it side. Like buildings! And cars.”

“Thanks.” Luce said with a wry smile. Not that she doubted that Remmy meant it-- if anything, she had a feeling they were very serious in how they felt about her works. But, there were still flaw with her art, still discrepancies here and there. Crooked lines, pieces that didn’t fully work as a whole. She kept the art mainly as a reminder that there was always room for improvement. Swivelling in her chair to face her client, Luce listened as they rambled their way through their thoughts. And the way that they petered off at the end of their sentence confirmed her suspicions. This tattoo, it carried weight. It carried baggage. And this person literally had a burden that no one else could understand, weighing down on their shoulders. “Okay. So, what I want to know is, do you want it covered up? Or do you want it changed in a way that it’s still visible and still a part of you. Because those are very, very different things. People like to say that art is just art, but there’s more to it.” Luce said, pausing for a moment. “I’m not a therapist, won’t claim to be one either. But this is some heavy shit, I’m guessing. And I want to make sure you’re making the right decision, for present and future you, with this.”

“The second one,” Remmy said quickly, “definitely the...second one. I don’t want it covered up. I--” like it? No. That wasn’t quite the right word. Remmy had always been bad at finding the right words. “--need it.” Want it, even. They subconsciously reached back, fingers pressing where the names were under their sweater. Their eyes fell back to their shoes. They really needed new shoes. “It’s-- it’s not that big of a deal, really. It was just, like, stupid kids making a stupid promise to each other. And I...want to honor the like...thought behind it. Maybe not like, what it represents, what it came to be but like...what we wanted them to mean. What it should mean.” They dropped their hand, plucked at a loose string. “Sorry. I um...I’m really bad at explaining things.”

Oh boy. Luce hadn’t been wrong about this tattoo having a lot of baggage behind it, if they were this uncomfortable talking about it. Watching the way they averted their eyes, the way they reached for a spot on their shoulder, Luce folded her arms across her chest contemplatively. On the one hand, this seemed like something that might be out of her depth. On the other hand… she loved a challenge. And they seemed like a good person, just a bit lost. Nothing like getting an old piece refreshed to help the soul. “It’s all good. And hey. It’s something that’s got a lot of meaning to you clearly. Both then and now. So. Honoring the people you served with. I can get behind that.” She said, mulling over some ideas. It would all depend on the placement of the tattoo, of course. “I’m gonna close the door, give us some privacy so you can show me what you’ve got. I kinda need to know what I’m working with.” Luce explained.

“Oh, good, cool,” Remmy said, smacking themself internally for how stupid they sounded. “Now? You need to-- yeah. Okay. Um-- yeah. Okay! I can...do that.” They watched her close the door and shuffled in the chair a little. They waited until Luce was sitting again before tugging their sweater off, thankful they’d decided to put their binder on today instead of just using the wrap. “It’s uh,” putting the sweater aside, they turned so that their left shoulder was facing Luce better. “Back here,” pointed at the spot, “kinda covered, I can...move it.” Under the fabric was a simple tattoo: four names, each surrounded by the outline of a dog tag. Like a list, almost. Calvin Lancer, Lieutenant. Jeremy Andrews, Second Lieutenant. Ken Johnson, Private. Darius Mulberry, Combat Medic. All in a row down their shoulder, an almost mechanical tattoo. They glanced up at Luce, wondering what she could have thought about it. If it was savable.

Giving them space, Luce settled back down in her chair and politely waited for them to show her the tattoo. The flash of the binder wasn’t too surprising, they seemed pretty androgynous. But, never hurt to be clear. “Real quick-- preferred pronouns? And, if I’m down to do this tattoo, are you cool with me being your artist? We’ve got male tattoo artists as well, just putting that option out there.” She said. The worst thing a tattoo artist could do, besides fuck up a tattoo, was make their client uncomfortable and she didn’t want to do that at all. As she took in the very basic, nondescript tattoo, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. The implication of getting this altered was very, very real to her. “I see. And you’re looking to get something to honor them.” She said mulling the tattoo over. She could think of something already. Maybe adding chains that linked them together? Or some kind of decorative outline? “I know you said you’re not good at creative stuff-- I call bullshit on that, by the way. What kind of things do you like, visually, to look at? That could give me a good idea of what to do, what options I have.”

“Preferred--” Remmy started, confused, then stopped. They still weren’t used to the question and although it came as a surprise, it felt nice, too. To be seen this way. They gave a little shrug. “Uh, just...they. Um, thanks. No! You-- you’re fine. I prefer women.” Paused. “I mean like, for this!” Paused again. “But not that I don’t-- it’s, uh--” snapped their jaw shut. They were rambling again. “Sorry! Sorry. I get uh-- a little nervous.” They should’ve brought Moose, but they weren’t sure he’d like it here, with all the small noises. They watched Luce examine the tattoo, glancing down at their feet again, hands wringing together. “Oh, um, I’m-- I’m really not. Creative. Or like, good at it. Being creative. I just like, you know, looking at nature. And airplanes. I don’t know why, they always look cool to me. Like...I can’t believe someone built this. Of course it’s like a lot of someone’s, but like, someone saw it in their head and designed it and made it real. And like, mechanical things, I guess? I like um, shapes, you know? Like you were saying, that you do. Um...geometric stuff?”

Listening to the way they rambled on, Luce resisted the urge to smirk at them-- if they weren’t a client, she definitely would. But, they were probably just nervous at the prospect of the tattoo alteration. It was a big step, it seemed. And she was going to be here to help them through it. “Noted. On all accounts.” She said with a reassuring smile. “And don’t worry, everyone gets nervous, even if they don’t admit it.” As they began to talk about what things they liked to look at, the things that interested them, Luce pulled out a physical binder of her portfolio and handed it to them. “Why don’t you take a look through this while I do a rough sketch of what I’m thinking? See if anything catches your eye.” Her brain was already churning with ideas for how she could make this tattoo something that wasn’t just a burden, but something… commemorative. A legacy to the bonds of-- hm. That was an idea. Booting up her tablet, she began to do a rough sketch of the dog tags that already existed, and then began to add her own details. Chains, snaking from each tag, coming together, intertwining and then. She glanced over at her client, pursing her lips. It was worth a shot. Luce added another dog tag connected to the four other tags by the winding chains.

Remmy took the binder gratefully and started flipping through it, awed by all the designs she had in there. “You did all of these? They’re...incredible…” Looked up for a moment. “Oh, well, like-- I think I kinda get um-- extra nervous. Especially like, around, well...um.” Cleared their throat. “My friend keeps telling me I need to stop apologizing so much, too…” they trailed off, biting their bottom lip, looking at Luce, then back down at the binder. “Harder to do than it sounds.” After all, Remmy had been apologizing for their existence almost their whole life. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to know that...Sorry. Dammit.” Gave a half chuckle. “See?” They flipped the page and something jumped out to them. It was familiar, it looked sort of like the design they’d seen it on some of the memorabilia their uncle had back home. “Oh, hey-- I kinda like this? It looks kinda like um...that knot thing...celtic knots?” they said, raising the binder to try and show Luce.

“Yup, I did. I’ve been tattooing for 5 years officially, so I’ve got a nice little collection of pieces to show off,” Luce said, eyes still focused on her draft. Mm. That line looked weird. And those chains were off. Switching between reference pictures, she began to add more detail to it, just to give a clearer idea of what she was going for. “Apologize, don’t apologize, all that matters is you’re true to yourself.” She said with a shrug. “But, you’re good. Consider this an apology free zone.” Luce said with a grin. Swiveling around in her chair, Luce looked over at the picture they were holding up. Celtic knots. “Good choice. Those are symbolic of friendship, love, eternity, depending on the one. There’s the Sailor’s Knot, which is more indicative of friendship and the bonds forged tightly. And there’s also the Shield Knot, which is one of enduring protection.” She said, pointing to the two different designs. “Which speaks to you more?”

Huh. That was a weird thought. Remmy nodded. Deirdre had said something like that, too-- just be true to yourself. It was hard, though, to act on that advice when Remmy didn’t know what their true self was, besides dead. They pushed the thought away. “Thanks,” was all they said, a little quieter, before setting the binder down, and looking at the two Luce had pointed out. “I think...the shield one. I like the sound of that one.” Enduring protection. Maybe they had failed their squadmates, but that didn’t mean their memories couldn’t stay to protect Remmy. To remind them that they were never alone. Yeah, that was it, wasn’t it? That’s what they needed. That reminder. It’d been the reason they’d gotten the tattoos, after all, in the first place. “Definitely the second one,” they said more confidently, finally looking Luce in the eyes. It only lasted a second, but they were able to give her a nod, before dropping their eyes back to the binder.

“For sure. And I meant it, you know. Like, my whole job revolves around being true to yourself. Tattoos are reflective of the people who have them, no matter what they are.” Luce said with a firm nod. Her job had allowed her to find her own voice, to speak her mind, and be honest with who she was. And it had been a very long and difficult lesson to learn, but ultimately rewarding. “The shield should work well with what I’m thinking. Give me a bit and I’ll show you the rough draft of what I’ve got. Obviously, it’ll take me more time to get the final design done, but it shouldn’t take too long.” She said. When they looked up and met her gaze, Luce was pleasantly surprised by the determination that she saw there. “You’ve got great eyes, by the way.” She said as she turned back to her design, erasing the original entanglement of chains and pulling up a reference for the shield knot. “Just an artistic observation, that’s all.”

“Oh, yeah, that-that makes sense. I mean...I just kinda figured I’d do it cause it was like, a group thing, we all promised we’d do it,” Remmy said, their mouth once again getting ahead of their brain.”We were kinda young and dumb at the time, though. I don’t think any of us put much thought into it…” They slowed, stopped talking again. “Oh, that’s fine! Yeah, um...take your time. I know I kinda like, sprung this on you. Sorry about that.” They scratched the back of their head, feeling their cheeks grow hot a moment. “I-- great eyes? Do you mean like, for the knot? Cause, like, technically I just liked it cause my Uncle had it around his place a lot. Like, as a symbol? On pictures and like, letterheads. And-- that’s...that’s not important. Sorry.”

“Even if you didn’t, it’s still representative of who you were at the time. Young and dumb isn’t how I’d classify it though,” Luce said as she filled in the intricate loops and connecting lines of the celtic symbol. “You all cared about each other enough to go all in on something like this. That says a lot.” In the brief lull of conversation, Luce began to erase some of her guidelines and added some chain detailing to the shield knot. “Don’t apologize, you’re giving me something to do. It’s my job.” She nodded. Leaning back from the screen, she looked at the draft, frowned, and then began to erase some of her lines. She didn’t like how the chains fed in, if she fixed it here… Better. “I meant you have great eyes. Very nice color.” She said, “No, keep talking. It’s interesting, gives backstory to the piece.”

Remmy didn’t comment on Luce’s observation. She was probably right, but Remmy didn’t want to think about all that right now. They’d just gotten through a big episode of grieving them, crying on Morgan, crying with Skylar, yelling at Blanche...they just didn’t want to think about it anymore. Blinking, Remmy looked up, trying to refocus on the conversation. “Huh? Oh, uh-- I mean...yeah, okay. If you say so.” They picked at a spot on their jeans again, cheeks turning warm. “I, uh-- oh. I do? I mean...thanks? Thanks. I mean thanks. You have nice eyes, too.” Oh, that was weird to say. “I mean pretty eyes! I mean, they look nice! Like...they’re also a nice color. They match your hair, too, and it’s, you-- kinda remind me of someone but like, you have a really pretty face.” Remmy clenched their jaw shut. “Fuck. Sorry. I ramble. So much. A lot. I say stupid things cause like my mouth gets ahead of my brain and I don’t think things through, um-- sorry. Anyway...yeah. My Uncle. He was Irish. So was my mom, I guess. But, like, my Uncle was really into the whole, heritage thing. Showed me what clan we were from and all that. Had our uh...special what it is, like...flag? Or um, crest? On some stuff. And a stamp of it. For letters and letterheads. He gave it to me, but I think I lost it in the move....”

“I do say so, yeah.” Luce said, leaning back to stare at the image for a moment before going back in to get the lines just how she wanted them. She wanted the new dog tag to stand out… Hm. Selecting the image, she rotated it ninety degrees so it was horizontal rather than vertical. Nice. That was more what she wanted. “Thanks. I like to think I’ve got a nice face.” She said, choosing to ignore the comment about her reminding them of someone. They probably meant Bea. Or Nell. Or even her mother. Ugh, not what she wanted to think about right now. “Like I said, talking gives background and meaning, so ramble away.” Listening to them as they talked about their family, Luce added in a few more lines until she was satisfied with the draft. “That’s cool that you’ve got that kind of family background. Who knows, you might find the stamp sometime. Now. How’s this look, just as a rough idea?” She asked, taking her laptop off the desk and bringing it over for Remmy to look at.

Remmy watched Luce with curious eyes as she scratched away on her tablet. They’d never seen anyone use them before, and they’d always wondered how they worked. “Oh, uh, okay. Usually people tell me to stop talking. It’s a bad habit sometimes.” Finally, Luce finished and came over with the laptop. Remmy’s eyes lingered on it, but it didn’t entirely register until they saw the new tag Luce had added. It had their name on it. Intertwined with the knot and the other tags. Remmy didn’t know what to say for a moment. “I-It…” they stuttered a moment, “Yeah. I mean-- yes. Or, it looks great. Perfect. It’s…” they grew quiet. “Perfect.”

“Most people are also assholes.” Luce said bluntly. “You can speak your mind, there’s nothing wrong with it.” She’d spent most of her childhood keeping her thoughts to herself, overshadowed by Bea at first and then by Nell. It had been easier to fade into the background, considering that Bea was the family’s pride and joy and Nell the on-going problem child. But, her job had shifted that perspective, made her realize her thoughts had merit. When Remmy gave their approval, she nodded once. “I’d hope it’s not perfect, this is just the first a draft. Give me a bit and I’ll get the finished product done and we can get to work. Just a heads up. You’ll have to have your binder off for this and you won’t be able to wear it for the rest of today. If that puts you in a bad headspace, we don’t have to do this. You can come back whenever you’re ready.” She said with a nod. “Just want to let you know.”

Remmy shrugged. “Oh, no, I-I don’t think they’re assholes, really. I...I can be a lot sometimes. I get that. Some people just can’t, like, handle it. It’s fine. I don’t mind.” They shifted in their chair as Luce explained the rest of what needed to happen. “Yeah, no-- of course. Not like, perfect perfect. But perfect as in like...perfect design? It-- it’s great. I could never-- I would’ve never been able to come up with something like that. It’s amazing, that could do that, just from, you know...me talking?” They looked down at their lap, hands wringing tightly. If they left, they knew they would never come back. Remmy shook their head. “No, I-- I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I wanna do it today. Let’s-- can we do it today?”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged as she settled back into her chair, laptop back in place on her work table. Luce stretched her hand out for a moment before going back in on her tablet, making a new layer and beginning the cleaned up version. “Hope you don’t mind if I throw on some music, helps me focus.” She said, as she opened up Spotify and let some blues inspired rock and roll play in the room. The image began to flow from her fingertips, the lines appearing in time to the ebbs and flows of the music. The pounding bassline gave her the solid, clean lines of the new dog tag, the intricate guitar solo forming the celtic shield knot. Piece by piece, note by note, the tattoo came together. Erasing the last couple stray lines, Luce hit the preview button and walked back over to Remmy, flexing her hand slightly. “Anything you wanna change? Speak now or never.”

Remmy gave a nod. “No, that-- that’s fine.” They stayed sitting for the most part, as Luce began drawing up the final draft. They were impressed she was able to get into the zone so quickly, and that she could just...make something like that, from her mind. After a bit, they stood and shuffled around the room a little, looking at all the drawings she had hung up around. The intricate lines, the attention to details in each of the pictures, it made Remmy wish they could do something like that. The only person they’d ever shown their stuff to was Nate. He’d said it was good, but Remmy figured he was just being nice. Their stuff was just observational, they could never do anything like this. When Luce finally finished and came back over, Remmy turned to look at what she’d come up with. “Oh, woah! No way! That’s amazing! I love it. It’s perfect. Like, for real this time. Perfect perfect.” They paused. “Really.”

A genuine smile spread across Luce’s face as she watched Remmy take in the design. The way their face lit up, she knew she’d nailed it, even before they’d answered. Fuck yes. Nothing beat that kind of reaction. This, this was what she loved about her job. The art, yes, but seeing people love something new about themselves? That was special. Of course, she’d never tell anyone that. “Excellent. I’ll need you to take off your shirt and binder so I can get the stencil on there and then we’ll be ready to go.” She said, as she began to print out a couple different sizes of her design, just to see what would work best. While her printer began to spit out the stencils, she pulled out fresh needles for her machine, wiping down the leather of her chair with solution, and grabbing the ink she needed from her large rolling toolkit of supplies. With her back to Remmy, she spoke over her shoulder. “You can either lie down or stay standing while I put the stencil on. Your call.”

“Oh, uh-- I-I’ll lay down…” Remmy answered quickly, swallowing the lump in their throat. They tugged their shirt off and set it down on the chair they’d been sitting in before, folding it up neatly, military style-- It was a habit they still hadn’t been able to break-- before reaching down to remove their binder. Hands shook only slightly as they folded it up as well and set it on top of their shirt. It was somehow both terrifying and reassuring knowing that their body still looked the same, even after dying. Blocking the thought from going any further, Remmy went over to the work chair and sat. They were really doing this. Drawing in a soothing breath, Remmy closed their eyes a moment. This would help. This would help them move on. All of them. Letting the breath go, Remmy turned around and laid down. “Ready,” they said, only a tinge of nerves in their voice.

Luce waited until Remmy gave her the all clear before turning around. It took a few tries to get the stencils lined up properly-- that was the trick of altering a pre-existing tattoo. She had to make sure that everything looked cohesive and coherent, so that it didn’t look like two tattoos smashed together, but one complete image. Making sure all the chains lined up, she stepped back, getting a good look at it from a bit away. She wanted the tattoo to still be legible even from a distance. The spacing looked good, everything read well. Excellent. “Alright.” She said as she pulled on a pair of gloves and set up her machine, “We’re gonna get going, just let me know if you feel light headed or need a break. You can talk to me or just zone out, whatever helps you out.” She said, switching the tattoo machine on before dipping the tip in the ink and setting to work.

Remmy kept quiet as Luce lined up the stencil. They could feel the paper against their back, the slight touch of her hands, and wondered if she had cold hands like them. Or maybe warm hands, like Nell and Bea. It was a weird thing to wonder, but Remmy noticed they’d started wondering that more about everyone they met. Finally, the needle flicked on and Luce sat beside them. Last time, Remmy remembered it hurting a little bit, but even back then, they’d been pretty good at withstanding pain. It was an old feeling, to them. “Oh, yeah...will do. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” they gave a thumbs up and a small smile. “I’m good with pain.” Didn’t even feel her start working. Didn’t even flinch.

Focusing on her work, Luce began to make the outlines, her strokes long and precise. She took care to apply even pressure, shifting with the slight curve of their shoulder as the machine hummed in her hair. But, after the first few brushstrokes, she could tell something was off. How could she not? As she wiped away excess ink with a paper towel, Luce was startled to see the skin she’d just tattooed looking… whole. Complete. As though the ink she’d just put underneath it had been there for at least a month, if not longer. “What--” She started to say, but quickly changed the words, “What made you decide to get this altered? It looks like you’ve had it for a while.” Luce said, making conversation as her eyes remained laser focused on the bizarre image before her. With every swipe of her machine, the buzzing hum, and wipe away, the image remained the same. A healed tattoo. What the fuck? Whatever Remmy was, they weren’t human, they couldn’t be.

Remmy stayed silent as Luce began her work. The thought that anything weird would happen didn’t even cross their mind. They could feel like buzz deep in their chest, but not the pain of the needle. Only the pen, drawing lines across their skin, like their skin was canvas made specifically to pain upon. Remmy had always loved drawing all over their arms as a kid, even their legs, even in school. Sitting bored and alone, they’d turn any piece of showing skin into a continuous line of doodles. Mostly just straight lines and zigzags, swirls and shapes. Luce paused a moment and Remmy stiffened. Was something wrong? “Wha-- oh, um...I’ve had it a couple years but I…” they tried to relax, hands unclenching. “It just felt right? It felt like it was time, I guess. To let them...to let it go.”

As Remmy talked, Luce continued to tattoo their shoulder, still frowning. What the fuck was this person? Their skin felt normal, at least, as far as she could tell. Were they a hunter? Hunters healed quick, she knew that much. Or some other kind of weird creature. She knew just from hanging around Ulfric that werewolves healed quicker than most, but this was like an instant thing. Weird. Definitely weird. But, it honestly made her job a little more interesting, a little faster too. “Mhm. Makes sense. Give yourself closure, but honor them.” She said, as she continued to add base outlines. The lines were coming quick and easy, the ink taking to the skin without problem. And it really didn’t seem as though the tattoo was bothering them-- usually people would flinch a little bit, even if they tried to stay still. “What do you do around town, Remmy?” She asked, making conversation.

“Yeah,” Remmy repeated quietly, “closure.” They knew that altering a tattoo wasn’t going to magically make everything okay, but it was a step in the right direction, right? It had to be. They knew if they could just put this all behind them, everything would be okay. If they could just stop thinking about what had happened. If they could just remember. “Oh, um-- I’m an overnight security guard, mostly. I help my friend around his office, too, for a little extra cash,” they said, remembering they needed to message Nate soon, see how he was doing in all this eternal night stuff. Hoped he was staying safe. “He owns his own architecture firm. It’s pretty neat! He’s a little nervous, though, so I take care of his chores and stuff around town and the office.”

“Night shift security guard and odd jobs? You must drink a lot of coffee.” Luce commented as she finished the last few outlines, completing the new dog tag that would be connected with the others. The shoulder wasn’t a spot that usually bothered people, but when you were working over and over, people tended to at least feel it. And Remmy wasn’t even reacting. Weird. Maybe they just had dead nerves or something? She’d tattooed over scars before, tattooed people who’d been through shit. Maybe that’s what this was. But, why the fuck were the lines healing over so quick? “Nice. Must be nice working for an architect, what with you saying you like buildings.” She said as she added some basic shading.

“Well, the overnight thing is only part time,” Remmy commented. “Plus, I don’t really sleep a lot anyway...gotta do something with my time, right?” They almost shrugged, but stopped themselves. Moving was probably a bad idea. “Oh, yeah! It’s great. I like looking at his stuff. He does a lot of environmental and green design, it’s really neat to see. I never really knew that was a thing till he showed me.” They smiled at the thought. They loved looking at Nate’s stuff and could only wish they could do something like that. “I dunno. I guess I just really like, like..geometric things? Like shapes and lines and tessellations stuff. They just...make sense in my head.”

“Got insomnia or something?” Luce asked, leaning back to take a good look at her handiwork. It was coming along a lot faster than she thought it would. Damn. “Hm. That’s pretty cool. I’m no architect, but I can respect environmental design.” She didn’t know shit about what went into designing a house like that, but it was cool that there was someone in White Crest who did. The designs would probably be really interesting to look at. “Makes sense to you? What do you mean by that?” She asked. The conversation was interesting, but she was mostly asking because it would allow her to be a bit… more intense with her work. She wanted to try something out. Picking a spot that needed to be darker, Luce pressed down, applying just a bit more pressure than she normally would and watched Remmy for a reaction. No matter how macho they were, this would get some kind of response. Most clients acclimatized to the pain and pressure, so if there was a change… they’d notice.

“Something like that…” Remmy mumbled. That’s what the doctor’s had first told them when they’d been in the hospital, but now they were questioning everything about that year and a half alone, recovering. Was anything they’d said true? “It’s super neat! You should check it out sometime. There’s lots of stuff on Google about it.” They turned their head a bit to see if they could see Luce before looking back forward. “Oh, um-- it’s kinda hard to explain? But like...I can like, look at something and know how it all like, works together? Usually mechanical things, or like...um...infrastructure? Or, what do you call the insides of buildings? Uh...foundations! Building foundations. Things with like geometric volumes and stuff. Like I can look at most puzzle boxes and just....know how they work. It’s...I dunno. It just makes sense in my head.” They paused, feeling the increased pressure, but not moving or saying anything, not wanting to mess her up. “How, um-- how’s it going?” they asked after a moment.

“That sucks. I’m in the same boat. Not all the time, but sleeping is,” Luce let out a sigh as she wiped away more ink. “An elusive bitch sometimes.” And moving in with her sisters hadn’t made that any better. At least back in her cabin, she could wander around her house as much as she wanted. She didn’t want to poke her head out of her room and risk running into Nell or Bea in the middle of a fight, so she was stuck in her room most nights. “Don’t move.” She warned, pulling her hand back from their back before resuming once they’d turned in place. Listening to them continue to talk, she squinted in confusion. Was this some kind of supernatural thing? Or were they just super logical? When they didn’t react to the change in pressure, her expression of confusion only deepend. What the fuck. But, when they spoke up, she eased up. “Just had to do some deeper shading. It’s all good. Should be done soon, by the way.” She said

“Oh, I-- I’m sorry. It’s not fun, that’s for sure,” Remmy said back, letting out a little sigh. They’re fingers plucked at a loose thread on the chair. Pausing to hold perfectly still when Luce asked them to, making sure they didn’t mess anything up. They turned their head to rest their cheek against the rest of the chair. Tried to imagine the lines Luce was tracing into their skin, closing their eyes to try and feel the pressure more. Little prickles, but no pain. It felt more like someone was dragging a pencil down their skin. “Oh, uh,” they opened their eyes again, blinking, “no worries! I’m good. But yeah, cool, great! I can’t wait to see it.”

“That’s just how it goes sometimes.” Luce said, eyes focused on the tattoo. The rest of the session went by without any problem, though she still couldn’t figure out why the fuck they were healing so quickly. What the fuck kind of supernatural creature were they? Pushing the thoughts out of her mind, Luce finished up the shading work, kept her hand steady and her pressure nice and light as she got the details just right. And, for good measure, she added the same kind of shading around the original tattoo. She touched up the lines of the dog tags, went over the lettering, and added some depth to the image so it worked with the rest of the tattoo. Shutting off the machine, she wiped off the last bit of ink before standing up. “Alright, we’re all done. Take a look in the mirror and let me know what you think.” Luce said, turning to give them some privacy.

The minutes ticked by slowly, it felt, but in no time at all, Luce was declaring it done. Remmy’s mind had drifted during the lull, thinking back to when they’d all first gotten the tattoos. Darius was originally the most nervous one, and he’d only agreed after Remmy had said they could get theirs together. They’d even held hands during the process, wincing and clenching hands tightly. They were pretty sure he’d bruised their hand but it didn’t matter. They’d done it together. A silent promise. Remmy blinked when Luce finally spoke up again. Shifting slightly, they waited for Luce to turn around before wiping the tears that had gathered behind their eyes and heading over to the mirror, turning to look at it. If it was possible, their breath woulda caught. The intricacy of the design was something to behold. And the way it had turned something so...mechanical into something worth looking at, Remmy could only stare. More tears coming, but they quickly wiped them away again. Now wasn’t the time. “It’s...it’s amazing. You do amazing work,” they finally said, heading back over to their shirt and slipping it on, leaving the binder off for now. They remembered the last time the guy said to not wear anything that would rub for a few days. “I...thank you. So much.”

Luce waited patiently for Remmy to look at the tattoo, taking the opportunity to throw away her gloves and clean up her machine. Silent seconds ticked by, until they spoke up, letting her know that she could turn around. “No worries. Thanks for giving me a cool project to work on.” She said with a nod. It was a better use of her time than just sitting around aimlessly until her next appointment. And she still had time to grab something to eat before she had to get back to work. Grabbing a card and sharpie from her desk, she walked over to shake their hand. “If you ever decide to get another, here’s my card. It’s got a link to my portfolio for you to check out whenever.” Luce wrote down her cell number on the back. “And my number.” Whoever this person was, they were an interesting one. Talking to them outside of work might mean she could figure out what the fuck they were. “Anyways, the gal up front will ring you up, should be about $275.” She said frankly. At the end of the day, job’s a job. And she was getting paid for this.

Remmy took the car gratefully, giving a soft smile. “Thanks! This is great. I’ll definitely check it out and like...let my friends know about you.” They pocketed the card, making sure to keep it safe, looking at Luce. “Um-- thank you, again. It’s-- this was helpful.” They turned to leave again before stopping to look back at Luce. “I, uh-- it was nice to meet you. Really. I hope people stop cancelling on you, cause like, you’re pretty awesome.” They gave a crooked smile before turning to finally head out. “Promise I’ll leave a good tip!” And maybe this had been an impulse, but at least it had been their own decision this time. And maybe it was going to fix everything, but now, at least, it didn’t weigh so heavy on their shoulder anymore.

#p: iai #p: remmy mcallister

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minimin1993 · 5 years ago

Text

S/M 41 & B/L 34

Warning: Implied smut. Violence.

Sebastian and Min had decided to keep their relationship out of the spotlight and keep the fans guessing and just continue with what they had been doing. He had recently cut his hair and mustache to Jeff’s style while wandering around the hotel practicing the accent making Min laugh her ass off only to be tackled by Sebastian.

“You gotta stop laughing at me princess.” Sebastian said groggily, he just woke up and found Min laying on her stomach giggling at him.

“I can’t you look so funny.” Min said pulling on the mustache.

“I might just keep it, its growing on me. Totally bringing back the 90’s vibes don’t you think.”

“Oh god please don’t, I won’t be able to handle you looking like this all the time.”

“Why not? I thought you love me for me and not my looks.” He teased.

“I will love you even if you rock a bald head and round tummy but god this mustache has gotta go. You look like you have old school pornstar-stache.”

“You don’t like that pornstache that much?”

“Nope, I like you without it or your normal scruff.” She said rubbing his dimple chin.

“Uh huh, so what are you going to be doing today when I’m heading to set?” Sebastian said pulling her on top of him.

“I might go visit Chris on set early since they are filming already.”

“Sure, you just want to see Chris working the nomad look with his long hair and a beard.”

“Pft… Whatt?? Noo… Pftt.. what gave you that idea?” Min teased Sebastian.

“Yeah, right. Don’t even lie, his new look is doing things to you.” Sebastian said tickling her sides having squirm on top of him but he holds her still.

“You play dirty Mr. Stan. Okay, okay I admit. But I can’t help it I like a man with long hair and heavy beard.”

“Ohh so you only liked me because I had long hair.”

“Well it was a bonus but I like this short due on you. I can see your eyes better.” Min said running her fingers through his short hair only to giggle again when she looks down on his mustache. “But to be honest Chris is totally not rocking an old school pornstar-stache.”

“Okay that's it, you are so going to get it now.” He aid flipping them caging her underneath him. “Who do you belong to babygirl?”

“I don’t know, maybe you should remind me.” Min teased causing him to growl before reminding her who she belongs to.

“James I swear to god, get you butt up, we gotta feed the children before they eat through my flower bed again.” Linda slaps Buckys butt who refuses to wake up for the umf time.

“I don’t want to right now.” He said pulling her in bed caging her underneath him. “Right now I want to enjoy you.” He smirks feeling the strike of arousal from her running down his spine knowing he got her right where he wants him. They have been living a very quiet domestic life for over a year now in a hidden place in the edge of Wakanda enjoying each other through their soulbond which Bucky clearly loves to take advantage of.

“Nope, we not doing this again. This will be the 4th flower bed in 2 months, I would like to enjoy my hard work before it gets eaten.” Linda said flipping them back over before getting off the bed hearing Bucky groan behind her while to walk to the edge of their hut. “Maybe if you hurry up we can enjoy each other under the waterfall.” She transmitted an image to his mind winking at him.

“Yes mam.” He said leaving the hut making her giggle.

Bucky was feeding their goats they call their children, Linda was currently on the ground with a goat in her arms while 2 wakandan children was petting it when King T-Challa and Okoye comes up to their hut.

“James.” Linda said nodding over to T-Challa as 2 of the Kings Guards men comes over with an equipment case opening it, Bucky and Linda walks over to the case seeing a new Black and Gold Vibranium arm.

“Where’s the fight?” Bucky said grabbing Linda hand both sharing the same thoughts.

“On its way.” T-Challa said. “Shuri wants the Blue Phoenix to come to her lab as soon as possible.”

“Yes King T-Challa.” Linda said watching them leave leaving the couple to their thoughts. “We will never get a break huh.” Bucky said as they walk back inside their hut. “All I wanted was to go to war come back and enjoy living a normal life with you in the 40’s, maybe pop out a few Barnes here and there but god love throwing me a curve ball. Now I finally get what I want, a quiet normal life with you only to have it end it in a fight. This is my punishment, this is what I get for all th...” He said sitting down on the bed rubbing his face.

“James none of what Hydra did was your control so don’t blame yourself for that. I understand how you feel but the world needs us. How about this, after all this is all over we go away off the grid just me and you. We can settle somewhere.” Linda said tilting his face up to look at her.

“You would do that?”

“Of course I would, you may have been fighting for 70 something years but I have been fighting for many more than that. I am tired of the fight. I just want you, and maybe like you said pop out a few Barnes.”

“I love you so much you know that.” He said

“And I love you too, now think about it. Now you will have 2 arms to finally do what you want with me.” She winks at him.

“God you are going to be the death of me.”

“Don’t you even start, we both know you are the one that is insatiable.” She said pushing him lightly on his shoulder making him chuckle.

“Can’t help it, 70 years dry spell will do that to a guy.” He joked winking back at her.

“Uh-huh, Now come on before Shuri get mad at us.”

After Bucky was fitted with the new arm, Shuri had excited move over to Linda with a new weapon for her to try.

“So I know you draw your energy from things around you to conjure your whip what if I told you I have a device small enough to hold your type of energy where you can conjure your whip at maximum capacity everytime without feeling drained.” Shuri said

“And I say you are lying?” Linda joked.

“I wish I was but I am a genius, here.” Shuri said throwing her a necklace containing a crystal Linda recognized immediately.

“How did you get this?” Linda said looking at the crystal she used back on asgard a long time ago.

“You ‘L’ sent us another package not to long ago label for emergencies only.” Shuri said.

“Thank you Shuri, you have no idea how much this means to me.” Linda said putting the necklace on feeling rejuvenated.

“Now get suited up, Captain Rogers shall be here any minute now.” Shuri said

Both Linda and Bucky for suited for the mission walking out of the palace holding each other's hands seeing the quinjet and the rest of their friend walking towards them

“How we looking?” They heard Natasha say

“You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…” T-Challa said nodding over to the them.

“A semi-stable, 100-year-old man.” Bucky said letting Linda hand go hugging Steve.

“How you been, Buck?” Steve asks

“Uh, not bad, for the end of the world.”

“I missed you Linda.” Steve said giving Linda a hug.

“I missed you too Stevie.” She said before giving everyone else a quick hug before they move to Shuri Lab to see if they can remove the Stone from Vision.

Sam, Rhodes, Bucky, and Linda decided to stay outside on guard waiting only to see an alien vessel coming down straight toward them.

“Cap we got a situation here.” Sam said in the com as the defense shield surrounding them destroys the vessel.

“God, I love this place.” Bucky said as they all look up in the sky

“ Yeah, don't start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming outside the dome.” Rhodes said watching 3 more ships burn through the sky.

“Evacuate the city. Engage all defense procedures. And get this man a shield.” T-Challa said through the com.

The soldiers all marched out to the appointed aircrafts and were all transported to the edge of the border.

“Always remember I will love you.” Bucky transmitted to Linda who looks over at him holding his hand.

“I love you too, We will do it together.” She answered back.

“This is going to end bad.”Bucky transmitted.

“Till the end of the line.” Linda joked making him roll his eyes.

“MAYEFA YA HU! MAYEFA YA HU! MAYEFA YA HU! MAYEFA YA HU! MAYEFA YA HU!” The Jabari warrior chants as M'Baku, rallies his soldiers

“Thank you for standing with us.” T-Challa said patting M’Baku on his shoulders. “Of course, brother.”

T-Challa, Steve, Linda, and Natasha walk to the edge of the barrier, where Proxima Midnight and Cull Obsidian stand seeing Proxima tests the strength of the barrier by drawing her sword across it consideringly. “Where's your other friend?” Natasha said.

“You will pay for his life with yours. Thanos will have that stone.” Proxima Midnight said

“That's not gonna happen.” Steve said.

“You are in Wakanda now. Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood.” T-Challa said.

“We... have blood to spare.” Proxima Midnight said as she brandishes her sword with a snarl, and the ships behind her start raising their outer hulls to allow their "passengers" to disembark.

“Oh by the way Luna, I am sorry to say that your Asgardians family is dead.” She said with a smirk. Linda/Luna hands were radiating blue about to attack.

“Not now my love.” Bucky transmits into her feeling her rage stopping her as they walked back to the massed forces.

“Did they surrender?” Bucky asks

“Not exactly.” Steve said.

T-Challa leads the Wakandans in the war cry "Yibambe!" telling them to hold fast as the Outriders bound toward the barrier; Proxima drops her sword arm down in the signal to attack.

“What the hell.” Bucky said astonished by the amount of outsiders charging at the shield.

“Looks like we pissed her off.” Natasha said as they watch horrified as the Outriders bombard the force-field, squeezing limbs and bodies partly through only to be bisected.

“They're killing themselves.” Okoye said in disgust.

As a few Outriders managed to squeeze through intact, the Border Tribe take a knee and raise their shields. The Kingsguard behind them level their sonic spears over their comrades' shoulders, and on T-Challa's command, fire at the approaching monsters. Bucky uses his M-249 machine gun, Linda/Luna sends charges of her own, and Bruce fires the Hulkbuster's hand repulsors. “You seen the teeth on those things?” Sam said flying over them shooting as he goes

"Alright, back up, Sam. You're gonna get your wings singed.” Rhode flies over the heaviest concentration of Outriders and drops a barrage of mines, all exploding fantastically.

“Cap, if these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us... there's nothing between them and Vision.” Linda said as they watch the outsiders circle around the shield.

“Them we better keep 'em in front of us.”

“How do we do that?” Okoye asks T-challa

“We open the barrier. On my signal, open North-West Section Seventeen.” He said over the com.

“Requesting confirmation, my King. You said open the barrier?” Dome control asks

“On my signal.”

“This will be the end of Wakanda.” M’Baku said

“Then it will be the noblest ending in history.” Okoye answers.

Steve readies his Vibranium shields with Linda/Luna conjuring both her whips ready to fight. T-Challa commands in Xhosa; the Border Tribesmen disengage their shields and stand, as he walks out in front of them, never taking his eyes off the enemy. “ WAKANDA FOREVER!” He shouts crosses his arms in the Wakandan salute and closes his Black Panther helmet, charging for the barrier. The heroes and leaders are at the fore of the charge. Halfway to the barrier, the Black Panther shouts into his comm “Now!”

Steve, T-Challa, and Linda picks up their speed and full at full charge leaps into action attack. Linda whips her whip practically disintegrate whatever her line of target. “Oh how I miss you Lunar.” She said to her crystal.

“I see how you it is my love.” Bucky transmitted jokingly into her mind while he shoots the outsiders.

“Jealous of it?” Linda snarks back playfully with a smirk on her face.

“Gotta say though doll seeing you in full attack mode is doing things to me.” He thought sending her an image

“Maybe once this is over you can make it a reality.” She moans in her mind hearing him chuckle.

“God I love this bond.” He answers as they both never stopped fighting.

The fighting continued non stop for who knows how long before they were starting to get way to outnumbered. Linda/Luna felt Bucky struggles through their bond fights over to him seeing him knocked over trying to fight the outsider with his favorite knife who was snapping their fangs at him, then Rhode, Banner, one by one getting swamped with Outsiders. She was about to jump to Bucky when someone enters her mind.

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian x reader #steve rogers #the first avenger #originl character #chris evans #original character #winter solider x you #winter soldier #captain america #infinity war #marvel

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minwaajimoweasel · 5 years ago

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Am I ok?

This is a question I think a lot of us need to think about. As much as I believe myself to be ok all the time, and I hate admitting that I'm not ok, I just need to reflect on this for a minute...

Let's lay this all out and just see where I'm at. I'm currently working 32-40 hours a week at work on top of going to school full time and also TAing for 1-2 labs a week. Midterms last week was hell. Trying to find time to study, to sleep, to eat, and some relax time was all impossible. I probably got an average of 4-5 hours of sleep/night trying to stay on top of everything, and the nights I worked, I ate dinner at 11ish at night...

That's something. We're short staffed at work, and on the weekends on swing shift, there's one doctor, one tech, and one assistant (that's me; I'm the assistant). No CSR, so I also take on that role (aka answering the phones, setting up appointments, dealing with walk-ins, all that fun stuff). I'm at the point on the weekends where when it gets busy, I feel guilty for taking breaks. As much as the doctor and tech run around doing absolutely everything in back not being able to take a break, then why do I deserve one? So therefore from 2/3-11 at night I maybe have a granola bar until I get home. Is that the healthiest? Probably not. But what else can I do?

Also, let's look at my work ethic. I now have the worst cold I've had in a loonnnggg time. Like I don't usually like taking medicine when I'm sick -- I like just riding it out. That was my first mistake. The first night of this cold was awful. I could not sleep due to me coughing/my nose running non-stop. It was great. And guess what I had to do the next day? You got it. Work. I was debating that morning whether or not to call in, but then I realized. I was literally the only assistant scheduled that day. The doctor and tech on swing would be left with no one for an assistant or CSR that night. So I dragged myself off the couch and bought some DayQuil, and I pulled through it. Should I have gone to work that day? Probably would have been in my best interest not to, but I also felt like I didn't have much of a choice.

And on the outside, so many people in our society see that as such great work ethic. That it's good to power through and just keep going. But is that not how burnout happens? Like at some point, I'm going to hit a brick wall. If I keep going like this... There's just no way.

And I realize this. But the question is, will I do anything about it? Will I realize when it's too much before it's too late? Will I be able to stand up for myself when it comes to this? Because I see the appreciation from all my co-workers that I'm able to do all this stuff; that I'm able to go to school and still help out as much as possible; that I'm sick and still coming to work; that I have a test this next week, and I probably shouldn't take extra hours, but I do anyway, because they expect me to be able to set my own boundaries, but I don't know if I can...

I just have to wait until school's over, right? Then maybe things will go back to normal (whatever normal is). I'll hopefully be making more money, maybe have time to go out and meet people and do more things. And maybe build up the courage to go to therapy, and stop making excuses. Maybe then being able to stand up and make the boundaries will just come to me? Hopefully... I mean the fact that I'm realizing all of this has to mean something, right?

Maybe I'm not ok.

But I'm realizing it. And there's only so much time I can realize it and do nothing about it. I'm a big believer that you mold your own future. If you want something to change, you gotta do it yourself.

I may not be ok right now, but don't worry, I will be.

#personal #am i ok #?#thoughts

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marshmallow-the-vampire-slayer · 6 years ago

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MTVS Epic Rewatch #210

BTVS 7x22 Chosen

Stray Thoughts

You know what? I don’t think I am, Buffy.

1) You know the baddy’s fate is sealed when they dare call Buffy a bitch, right?

2) Watching Buffy ax Caleb right in the balls and then make puns about it fills me with infinite joy.

3) I think you all know by now I’m not a Bangel shipper, so I wonder how Angel shippers feel about Buffy and Angel’s last on-screen conversation being about Spike. Doesn’t it feel a bit like a wasted opportunity? It’s not really OOC for Angel to act jealous and possessive (even though in the universe of the show he’s spent the last two years approximately being in love with Cordelia, so why does he think he has any right to question Buffy’s love life? Anyway, I know that’s the writers' fault – how they always blatantly ignored whatever was happening in each show for the shippy crossover moment – but the end result is that Angel looks like a two-timing asshole who can’t make up his mind about what or who he wants.) But like, the world is ending, this is what you want your last conversation to be…?

He is. He is a 200+ years old man-child-pire.

5) The cookie dough speech, though? One of my favorite speeches in the show…

I'm cookie dough. I'm not done baking. I'm not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I'm gonna turn out to be. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and maybe one day I turn around and realize I'm ready. I'm cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to eat… or enjoy warm, delicious cookie me, then...that's fine. That'll be then. When I'm done.

I think it’s one of the finest messages the show delivered, and it’s especially important coming from Buffy herself, someone who was seldom not in a relationship.

6) Callback #1…

This parallels both Angel’s first appearance in the show in Welcome to the Hellmouth as well as his exit from the show in Graduation Day Part 2.

7) Oh, Xander…

8) Of course, the shipping wars wouldn’t be complete without Spuffy talking about Angel. Guh.

9) Iconic!

You know, one of these days I'm just gonna put you two in a room and let you wrestle it out. There could be oil of some kind involved.

One can only dream!

10) This gives me a lot of feels… It’s such a small gesture but it means she finally trusts him.

11) You see what I mean when I say the First was fucking idiotic? Always giving Buffy the precise information she needed in order to defeat it? I mean…

None of those girlies will ever know real power unless you're dead. You know the drill: Into every generation, a slayer is born. One girl in all the world. She alone will have the strength and skill to— There's that word again. What you are. How you'll die. Alone. Where's your snappy comeback?

Like, seriously, do you even want to destroy the world? You’re not trying real hard!

12) Yeah, you fucking are!

13) See? Cut to the next morning, Buffy is telling the others her plans, inspired by none other than the First itself! I don’t think she would’ve thought of it if he hadn’t mentioned the fact that they needed the potentials to have real power, the power of a slayer.

14) Sweet, innocent Dawnie!

WILLOW This goes beyond anything I've ever done. It's a total loss of control, and not in a nice, wholesome, my girlfriend has a pierced tongue kind of way.

BUFFY I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you could do it.

WILLOW I—I'm not sure that I'm stable enough.

GILES You can do this, Willow. We'll get the coven on the line, and we'll find out how they can help.

DAWN Oh! "Pierced tongue."

15) This line always gives me chills!

16) Although their conversation is cute…

ROBIN Faith—Make me a deal, all right? We live through this, you give me the chance to surprise you.

FAITH What would be the surprise?

ROBIN You do know the meaning of the word, right?

I really don’t see the point in spending precious minutes of a finale on these two. If we needed Faith to get closure with anyone, that was Buffy.

17) I don’t actually hate Kennedy on this episode. Wow. I never thought I’d say that.

18) How the mighty have fallen…

Although I think I missed the part where he was a “highly respected watcher”...

19) And then this scene…

I’ve talked about it before, so I’m going to leave you the link in case your interested to know what I make of it as a Spuffy shipper.

20) Oh, Anya…

ANYA So that leaves me and the dungeon master in the north hall?

ANDREW We will defend it with our very lives.

ANYA Yes, we will defend it with his very life.

XANDER And don't be afraid to use him as a human shield.

ANYA Good, yes, thanks!

21) aNDREW HAD A FUCKING SPEECH PREPARED, I CAN’T!

22) Now, this is what this season should’ve been about…

23) And callback #2…

24) Ok, this is one my greatest movie/tv pet peeves. Why would anyone cut their hands? I get it, you need blood or whatever. I can think of 10 parts of your body you could get it from which wouldn’t be as inconvenient as your hand. Like, how do they continue doing things with a fucking open wound on the palm of their hands? It doesn’t make any sense! And it’s always the fucking hand! WHY!?

25) This is probably the scariest shot in the show, isn’t it? (even if the CGI wasn’t that great…)

26) Oh, man, this speech still gives me chills!

BUFFY So here's the part where you make a choice: What if you could have that power... now? In every generation, one slayer is born... because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule. They were powerful men. This woman is more powerful than all of them combined. So I say we change the rule. I say my power... should be our power. Tomorrow, Willow will use the essence of the scythe to change our destiny. From now on, every girl in the world who might be a slayer... will be a slayer. Every girl who could have the power... will have the power... can stand up, will stand up. Slayers... every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?

I love it. I do. It is an empowering moment, it’s Buffy and the slayers breaking free from the Council, taking back the power that was imposed onto them, choosing that power.

The irony is not lost on me, however, that Buffy is making the choice for – and therefore removing the agency of – every single potential slayer who is not in that room. She did ask the ones living with her, but what about the rest? What if they don’t want that power and its responsibility?

In spite of this, it still holds up as one of the greatest moments in the show.

Side note: I read somewhere (or saw an interview?) about how this speech was much longer, and how SMG delivered the whole speech in its entirety without making any mistakes, and when she ended everyone was so in awe at what she’d done as an actress that they started clapping. She is a great actress, isn’t she?

27) And our Willow has come full circle, hasn’t she?

28) Iconic shot!

29) Bless you, Anya!!

30) …

R.I.P. Anyanka Emanuella Jenkins, former vengeance demon, self-appointed American and defender of capitalism, arch-nemesis of bunnies, hater of subtleties, teller of truths.

I know the way Anya went pissed off a lot of people, especially because it’s almost a blink-and-you-missed-it moment. I do, however, feel that someone had to die in this way. Someone important, I mean. Not every main character death in the show could have a big preamble and a huge aftermath. Sometimes you see death coming, but other times, it happens in an instant and it’s done. That’s especially true in big battles like the one in this episode. There is no time to stop and mourn because if you do, you might end up on the dead pile yourself.

We see later how the only ones concerned about Anya are Xander and Andrew. That makes sense, too, in my opinion. Anya was never a true member of the Scooby gang. She was merely there because of Xander. I’m not saying that was okay, I’m simply stating a fact. In fact, I’ve voiced my annoyance about the way Buffy and Willow treated her several times. (This is proven by how little thought was given to her feelings after Xander left her at the altar…) It hardly matters anyway, because if she wanted to be remembered and missed by anyone, that most certainly was Xander. Her life revolved around him, for better or worse.

But, apart from this, I think this was a fitting way to finish her journey – from vengeance demon, to inadequate teenager, to girl in love, to working gal, to scorned lover, to vengeance demon again, to humanity connoisseur and admirer. She overcame her fear of death and she embraced her humanity, and she died stupidly fighting for what she believed in, just like humans do.

31) I think this is one of the most underrated puns in the show.

32) Have you noticed how they are killing the Ubervamps with… stakes? Retcon much?

33) Oh, bollocks, indeed…

34)It kind of breaks my heart when Spike says that he can really feel his soul like he didn’t really believe it was actually there until now.

35) Oh, god, my Spuffy heart…

Does Buffy really love Spike, though?

36) "I wanna see how it ends.”

R.I.P. Spike. Sort of. Not really.

37) I really like this shot…

Buffy just stares at the open road, her life ahead, her future, thoughts she’d never before allowed herself to indulge in because death was always around the corner. But now? There’s literally a world of possibilities…

38) Callback #3…

You left like you arrived, Spike. Goodbye home, sweet home.

39) Bless you, Andrew.

XANDER So, did you see?

ANDREW I—I was scared. I'm sorry.

XANDER Did you see what happened? I mean, was she...

ANDREW She was incredible. She died saving my life.

XANDER That's my girl. Always doing the stupid thing.

40) I just love the fact that the original cast members are the only ones in the last shot BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT THIS SEASON SHOULD’VE BEEN ABOUT. EHEM.

41) I just…

WILLOW Yeah. The First is scrunched, so... what do you think we should do, Buffy?

FAITH Yeah, you're not the one and only chosen anymore. Just gotta live like a person. How's that feel?

DAWN Yeah, Buffy. What are we gonna do now?

Buffy:

ME:

I will try to form a coherent thought because as I write this, I’m still bawling my eyes out. This ending is especially poignant for me because Buffy is my favorite character, so all I’ve ever wanted was her happiness. It’s been seven years. Seven years of heartbreak, pain, mourning loved ones, non-stopping fighting. Seven years of feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. A girl, alone in the world, fighting the forces of evil. Never allowing herself to look forward because that always leads to disappointment and crushed expectations. But now? Nothing is stopping her now, nothing is holding her back. The open road is right ahead, and she can go and do whatever she wants to.

The show had to end with a final shot of Buffy. This was her journey, and though it’s far from over, that smile assures us that yes, she will be fine.

I guess it gives all of us a little bit of hope.

42) Is Chosen a perfect episode? I don’t think so. I think too much time was wasted on ship moments and side characters. There’s a lot of talk but not the kind I usually enjoy the most. It’s only half-way through the episode – when they get to Sunnydale High - that you really get that feeling of “Oh fuck, this is really the end, this is actually happening!”

But I do think it’s a good ending, nonetheless. There’s an epic battle – although I do enjoy the season 3 battle much more… - there’re callbacks and special character moments, there’s closure and there’s death because it wouldn’t be Buffy if no one ever died. (You lied, Giles.)

More importantly, it does what series finales ought to do – it pays tribute to its characters, and it’s a gift to the fans. I don’t think we should ever measure the quality of a show by how good their series finale is, you know? When I think of this show – and we all know I think about it a lot – it’s not “Chosen” what comes to mind. It’s everything that came before it. Chosen is a celebration of and a tribute to all of that. And as such, it is a perfect finale.

43) Thank you to everyone who has ever read one of my recaps, you are the reason I pushed through even when I felt like giving up. Thank you for sharing my unconditional love for this show. I love you all, too.

44) If you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi. Thanks!

#Buffy the Vampire Slayer #BTVS #Buffy Summers #Chosen #Sarah Michelle Gellar #MTVSepicrewatch #BTVSrewatch2015 #mine #recap #btvsrecap

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kenzieam · 6 years ago

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It’s Time - (Bucky X OC)

Rating: M (language, eventual smut, angst)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @jaamesbbarnes @lancefvcker @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @empress-of-boujee @tbetz0341chook007 @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @melgoodwin @clarabella960 @curvybihufflepuff @angryschnauzer @wowspideyholland @sergeantwhitewolf @smilexcaptainx @plaidcat4815

****************************************************************************************************

An AU story with Bucky Barnes and my new OFC, Nika, please let me know what you think!!

****************************************************************************************************

It's time.

Two little words, glowing on my phone screen; an innocent text, that manage to stop my heart.

Even though I've been expecting this for the last eight months, I'm still not ready.

Taking a deep breath, I dial the familiar number. He answers on the fourth ring.

"Lev."

"Clint."

For a long moment, neither of us speak.

"Are you coming home?" He finally asks.

"Does she even remember me?"

"Her only daughter? Of course she does."

My cuticles are suddenly very interesting. "Do I have time?"

"Yeah. If you hurry. I'd give her maybe a week."

"Does she want to see me?"

He sighs then, and I feel a small twinge of guilt. "Yes, she's been asking for you, she doesn't understand why you left in the first place."

"You know why-"

"I know, and before the cancer started rotting her brain Mom knew too, but now she's asking..... Can I tell her you'll be here soon?"

Dammit. "Yeah. My manager owes me, I'll call in my vacation time; let me find a flight and I'll call you back with the details."

"Thanks, Lev."

"Sorry I wasn't there."

"Don't worry about it."

"Is he going to be there?"

Another sigh. "He's one of my best friends, of course he'll be around."

"I don't want to see him."

Clint is silent for so long, I wonder if the call dropped and glance at my screen to check.

"It's been five years, Lev. You're going to have to let it go."

"You know I can't."

"You don't know the whole story, and if you weren't so goddamn stubborn I could've told you it a long time ago."

"Clint, don't. Don't go all big brother on me."

"Six minutes older."

"Big whoop."

I hear mumbling in the background, Clint's reply is muffled. "Lev? I gotta go, Nat needs help with the baby. You still have to meet your niece, you little puke.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Just leave a message if I don’t answer, sometimes it takes awhile to get Lou to sleep.”

“Alright.”

“Bye, you little shit.”

“Bye, ass-munch.”

My smile fades as the call ends. My Mom is dying, end stage cancer and, from the other side of the country, it’s been easy to avoid that hard truth. She always loved Clint more than me anyway, but that’s hardly an excuse. Now it’s time to face the music.

A few minutes noodling around on my laptop gets me a round-trip flight leaving tomorrow morning.

My call to my manager is short and saccharine sweet. I have the next three weeks off, with the option of taking another week; it definitely pays to hoard your vacation time.

My neighbor across the hall agrees to watch Grimshaw for me, and I pet his sleek black fur one last time before handing him over, earning a nip for my trouble. The former stray is smart, even for a cat and he knows what’s up. He never gets shuttled over to the neighbors unless I’m leaving for an extended period of time, and he makes sure I know he’s displeased.

It doesn’t take long to pack, and I’m yawning under the covers not long after. I’m stubbornly refusing to consider what’s going to happen once I get home, and what my chances are of running into him.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** The flight doesn’t take nearly long enough, and far too soon I’m walking through arrivals, wondering if it would be uncouth to pop into the airport bar for a few shots of liquid courage.

“Hey stranger!”

The first real smile I’ve cracked all day appears as I turn to the speaker and am swept up into a bone-cracker of a bear hug, suddenly surrounded by familiar cologne and strong arms.

“Hi, Steve.”

“That’s all? Hi, Steve? Haven’t seen you for years and it’s ‘Hi, Steve?”

“Oh! Steven! My beating heart! I’ve missed you so!” I wail dramatically, pretending to swoon and falling against his broad chest, looking up into his amused face before reaching up and clutching at his cheeks, pinching them and pulling him down for a loud European style set of kisses. “Better?”

“A little.” He teases, slinging an arm over my shoulder and pulling me to his side. “Did Clint tell you I was picking you up?”

“No, he just said he wasn’t going to be able to and he’d see who he could find. I was thinking I’d probably get a cab.”

“Nah, baby girl. As soon as he said you were flying in I volunteered.” His arm tightens, pulling me closer and he plants a loud kiss to the top of my head. Out of all of Clint’s friends, Steve has always been the big brother, the big affectionate goof not ashamed to tell you he loved you, that always answered the phone, no matter the god-awful hour and was halfway out the door to pick you up before your drunken ass could even remember which party you were currently at.

He scrunches a handful of my hair. “What’s this? Channeling homeless 80’s hair-band?

“Shut up.” I slap his shoulder hard enough to hurt my hand, but of course it doesn’t faze the gorilla. “I had a hair appointment booked today, but I’m here.”

“You look like you did in school, last picture I saw, you had some sleek French model bob thing.”

I feel a twinge of guilt, that was almost a year ago. “Nah, it grew out. I’ve been up to my eyeballs in projects lately; my only regular date is my masseuse to try and loosen up these knots I get from bending over a drafting table all day.”

“Clint said you’re almost a partner?”

“Bro exaggerates.” I stop short, grinning widely at the vehicle Steve has led me to. “Nice wheels, Rogers.”

His grin back is equal parts pride and bashful. All through high school he’d talked about owning a vintage Porsche, and the black piece of art in front of me sure looked like one. “Got lucky and found the ad just as the guy posted it, it needed a little body work, but not much else. Got it reasonable enough, guy wanted room in his garage for his new toy.”

Stowing my bags in the front, trunk, I remind myself, he holds my door open like a gentleman then runs around the front, sliding into the driver’s side with his typical grace before turning the key and grinning widely at me. It was infectious and I can’t help but grin back, squeaking in surprise when he lays a few blackies screeching out of the parking lot.

“So how is work going?” Steve asks, downshifting, the hum of the engine immediately addicting.

“I’m a senior architect at the firm, but I doubt I’ll be partner anytime soon.”

“Why? You’re amazing, Bean. I saw what you’d draw in art class.”

“My personnel file calls it a ‘bellicose attitude’, I’m sure if I wasn’t the one bringing in 40% of the contracts myself, and if they hadn’t head-hunted me, I’d of been skidded months ago.”

“Why the attitude? Just do your thing, sweet; don’t pay attention to the peasants.”

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. “Half of the people there are just concerned with prestige; they just want to design the newest ‘in’ thing, not for the art of it, but the fame; I’m not an architect for the glory, I love architecture.”

“Come back home, there’s plenty of firms in Manhattan that would love to have you. Get out of Seattle before you’re completely disillusioned.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fixing me with an affectionate exasperation. “You can’t do that forever, Bean. It’s been five years.”

“Do you and Clint compare notes?” I grumble, pointing out the windshield. “Stop at that Starbucks and I’ll buy you a Caramel Macchiato to shut up.”

Smirking, Steve pulls into the parking lot and kills the engine but before I can climb out he grabs my hand, stopping me. “It’s hard not to, you guys were perfect for each other. He’s spent the last five years kicking his own ass over it, and we miss you here, please just talk to the guy.”

“He slept with another girl, Steve. Or did you forget? Got her pregnant too.”

A dark emotion sweeps across Steve’s normally cheerful face. “That’s your side of it.”

“What other side is there?” Even as the words leave my mouth I feel a hot flash of shame. That had been part of the reason I’d left in the first place, to avoid this; to stop from breaking the gang up by demanding they choose sides.

“Are you happy?” He asks suddenly.

“What?”

“Working across the country, in a city where you have no family? Sure, you’re an architect, your dream; but this is the first time you’ve been home since Clint and Nat’s wedding.... four years ago, has your anger been worth that?”

Suddenly, I wasn’t sure anymore. The wave of nostalgia I’d been holding back hits me full force then and I have to look away, blinking back unexpected tears. Steve’s hand is warm over mine.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just.... just talk to him, Bean. Clear the air if nothing else. If you still feel the same way after then you can go back to Washington with a clear heart, but it’s obvious you’re not over him.” He cups my chin, turning my head to look at him and waits patiently until I raise my eyes. He smiles gently, grinning wider when I manage a wet smile back.

“Love you, Bean. I’ve missed you; we’ve all missed you.”

“Love you back, doofus. You want sprinkles?”

“You’re buying? Of course.” He pulls away, reclining into his seat with a groan and flaps his hand at me. “Hurry up, I’m thirsty.”

His Macchiato occupies him the rest of the way and I find myself staring out the window as we drive, finding less changes than I expected to the old neighbourhood. I was used to constant design and construction back in Seattle, this is exactly what I remember from high school.

“Nothing’s changed.” Steve beats me to the punch, slowing to a stop to let an old lady cross the road, carrying a reusable shopping bag. He sticks his head out the window. “You need any help, Mrs. Proctor?”

Her reply is muffled, but Amelia Proctor was ancient when I was young, and muttered back then too. I catch a ‘no, dear boy, but thank you’ then she’s past us, moving like creeping Jesus.

After he closes the window I grin. “Mrs. Proctor’s still around, huh?”

“Yep, and she’ll still chase you down with her cane if you cut across her flower garden. How many times did you do that?”

I can’t stop a giggle. “At least once a week, it was a game; she loved it.”

“You two were terrible; poor Mrs. Proctor, if it wasn’t you, it was him.”

He’s treading in dangerous waters again, and I look away.

I don’t look forwards again until he turns the car into the driveway, I’m staying at Mom’s while I’m here, same lapis blue exterior with white trim, same swing on the wrap-around porch. Clint’s car is parked in front of the garage doors. I glance down the street, his house is just a half-block down, brick-red with grey trim. He and Nat bought that house from the Foster’s right after they got married, would they stay there, or move into this house, our childhood home?

“There she is!” My door is yanked open and arms pull me out into a tight hug.

“Sam Wilson.”

“Lev Barton.” He lets me go only far enough to kiss my forehead then yanks me back again, finally releasing me with a loud sigh. “You look good baby girl, except for that hair.” He cuts a glance at Steve and I wonder briefly if Rogers texted him to have that line ready.

“Shut up.”

His laugh is infectious and he slings his arm around my neck, pulling me close and almost off my feet. “I’m kidding, you look like you did in high school, it looks good.”

He’s the second person to say that, first Steve and now Sam; I hadn’t really had time to think about it these last few months, who else is going to wax nostalgic on me?

“Baby sister!” I hear the familiar voice and duck out from Sam’s arm just in time to be swept up by Clint. It takes my breath away just how tightly he grabs me and I feel a rush of fresh shame; what kind of sister have I been, letting him deal with all this himself?

“I’m sorry.” I murmur in his ear and he knows immediately what I’m talking about.

“It’s okay, Mom’s always been hardest on you, I understood why you’ve stayed away.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to my hair. “I’m just happy you’re here now.” He steps back, glancing over his shoulder, his face splitting into a huge grin as Nat appears, a pink blanket wrapped bundle in her arms. My sister-in-law and childhood friend steps closer, looking every inch a glowing new mom. She tilts the bundle so I can see and I feel my heart immediately burst.

“Ohhhh.... guys, she’s adorable.” I find myself cooing, making ‘gimme’ fingers. Carefully my new niece is placed in my arms and I’m completely suckered.

She’s got Clint’s blond hair and Nat’s nose, fist curled against her downy-soft cheek. She’s already a few months old but she still looks like a tiny doll to me.

“She’s so little.”

Clint wraps his arm around my shoulders again, looking down at his daughter. “Yeah, she’s just a little shit,” he grins, sidestepping Nat’s playful smack.

“Is Jax still around? I’m getting her name tattooed on my wrist.” It’s a split second decision, but that’s how I roll.

“Yeah, he’s still downtown.” Clint answers, shaking his head. We may be twins, but we’ve never been alike. Clint’s got Mom’s hair and eyes, while I’m darker, like Dad. Clint treats his body like a temple, whereas I’ve closing in on an even dozen tattoos. Clint’s never had so much as an earring, while I’ve had a whole gamut of piercings, up to and including one only my infrequent boyfriends have ever seen. “Can you see Mom though before you run off defacing yourself further?”

My mood stutters a bit as I’m reminded why I’m here in the first place and Clint sobers as well, pressing a kiss to my forehead in apology before stepping away. Nat takes his place and smiles as her new daughter stirs and blows a few bubbles in her sleep. I just grin like a damn fool down at her for a few minutes, breathing soft-baby smell and sighing.

“Eloise Arabella Barton.” I grin.

“You’re not tattooing all that, are you?” Nat sounds doubtful.

“No, just ‘Lou’, it’s almost as cute as her.”

Clint reappears, face sombre. “I just called the hospice. Mom’s having a good day, did you want to go?”

I gently hand Lou back and take a deep breath. “Just let me put my bag in my room, then yeah.” I glance over at Steve and Sam, standing nearby. “You guys?”

Sam shakes his head. “I gotta run, Wanda’s on bedrest. You have to come by and see her, Bean.”

“How much longer does she have?”

“Five weeks. And she hates every minute of it. First pregnancy was fine, now the second one is dragging her down.”

“Must be a boy, then.”

“Ha Ha. Text me later Bean, before Wanda opens the bedroom window and starts screaming your name.”

“I will.”

Sam turns and starts jogging away; he, Wanda and their adorable daughter Zoë live the next street over.

“Steve?”

He shakes his head. “I have to run by the site, check out the new crew.”

I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. Steve would have been a good buffer between me and my Mom, now I’m going in alone. “Business going good?” I feel bad for not asking sooner about Steve’s construction company.

“Yeah, it’s good.” He seems reluctant to answer, “Buck handles most of the grunt work now, I handle the clients end of it.”

I nod. Steve always was the most even-tempered of us all, the one who easily made and kept friends, the ‘never met a stranger’ guy. His business partner, the man I’d avoided for five long years, was a whole other story.

He leans forward suddenly, presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “Say hi to your Mom for me and I’ll see you tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

“Didn’t Clint tell you? He’s having a barbecue to welcome you back.”

“What?”

“It was a surprise, you big dummy.” Clint deadpans behind me. “If Bean knew about it, she’d catch the first flight back to Seattle.”

My immediate flash of panic is quickly overwhelmed by the thought of seeing all the old neighborhood again. Surely it’ll be big and busy enough that even if he does show up, I can avoid him.

Steve shrugs in a ‘sorry, not sorry’ way and turns away, calling goodbye over his shoulder before roaring off.

“Dick.” Clint shakes his head, grinning. “C’mon. Nat’s feeding Lou; hop in the car and we’ll go see Mom.”

I never did get to put my bags inside, so I set them just inside the porch and walk over to Clint’s vehicle.

“You need a minivan now, Dad.” I tease.

“Nah,” he replies easily, buckling his seat-belt and gesturing into the backseat. “This is the ultimate in soccer-mom SUV chic, minivans are so last season.”

We fall silent as we get closer to the hospice and I find myself picking at a small mark on my jeans. The shaking in my knees gets worse as I follow Clint inside the building, smiling dutifully as I’m introduced to the receptionist, then follow my brother down a maze of hallways. He knows the way and if I wasn’t about to have a panic attack, I’d be able to focus more on how downright beautiful and peaceful it is here. Soft lights and music, green spaces and small waterfalls, it’s a nice place, considering you only come here if you’re going to die. Dad’s estate has been footing the bill for here, and I can see now why it costs so much.

He stops in front of a room and holds up a hand. “Wait here.” He instructs before disappearing inside. I fidget and wait, pulling at my poor cuticles a little more before he reappears. “C’mon.”

I follow, swallowing hard but I’m still not prepared for the sight that awaits me. Always fashionably lean, Mom is positively gaunt now, her hair thin and colorless, a far cry from the perfect weekly blow-outs she always had. Dad had been a successful business man up to his surprise death from a heart attack when Clint and I were sixteen, and Mom had always been the polished, glamorous wife, doting on her favored son and tolerating her free-spirited daughter. Spare with her compliments and sharp with her judgements, her and I had never really gotten on. She’d been smart though, learning the business quietly from Dad, taking over when he died and selling it for an embarrassing profit a year later, she’d ensured herself a comfortable life, and now, a comfortable death. I knew there were trust funds set up for Clint and I, but I’d never looked into mine, preferring to make my own money.

Her eyes, bleary with heavy painkillers, nonetheless lock onto me like a missile.

“Levka.”

I’ve never gone by my full name. Supposedly, when we were born, Dad got to name Clint, and called him Clinton Edward after some childhood friend that died young, while Mom got to name me. She had a degree in Russian Literature that she’d never to my knowledge used, other than bestowing me with my incongruous handle; Levka Valentina Barton.

She reaches for my hand, breaking me out of my thoughts and I give it before I can think twice. Her grip is weaker, but still stronger than most men. I sit in the chair Clint pushes forward for me and try to think of what to say.

“Mom, I-”

“Don’t, Levka.” Her voice is surprisingly strong. “You and I have never been ones for idle chitchat, at least not with each other.”

I shift guiltily on my chair, wondering if I’m about to get my proverbial ass handed to me by a woman with no fucks left to give.

“I wanted to see you before I go,” she continues, as matter of fact as if she’s leaving for a weekend at the spa. “I’ve always been proud of you, Levka; even when I didn’t show it.”

I nearly fall off my chair in shock. Mom has never, ever told me she was proud of me.

“You are as strong as your name, and you have always been strong in your convictions. Perhaps that’s why we’ve never gotten along, but I’ve always admired how you make your own way. I want my grand-daughter to have strong role models in her life, to grow up knowing independent women like you and her mother; therefore, I’m leaving you my house-”

I glance in shock at Clint, but he doesn’t look surprised.

“-and I hope you will move back home and help raise Lou, help mold her into a eloquent and respected young lady.”

I’m gasping like a fish out of water and Clint steps closer, resting his hand on my shoulder.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, Levka; for not being the best mother to you. I want to be able to see your father again and tell him we are okay.”

Okay, now I’m crying. I feel Clint’s hands on my shoulders and for the longest time, I can only hold Mom’s hand against my cheek as I try to form words. That’s all I’ve wanted, all my life from this woman, acceptance. “Yes Mom; of course.” I manage tearfully a few minutes later.

Almost immediately Mom nods and closes her eyes, sighing peacefully and for a micro-second I panic, thinking she’s gone ahead and died, but Clint leans forward over me, gently disentangles our hands and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“She does that,” he explains quietly. “Falls asleep really easily. The painkillers. She’ll be out for hours.” He pulls gently at me. “C’mon, Bean.”

I let him pull me to my feet, let him lead me outside like a child and, when we reach his vehicle, I break down completely, and cry like a baby on his shoulder.

Later, on our way home, I’m better, lighter than I’ve felt in years, and unable to stop grinning like an idiot.

“I should have come home sooner.”

“Nah,” Clint’s smile is bittersweet. “Up until last week she still would have torn you apart; that’s how I knew it was time, she finally wanted to make amends.”

“I’m sorry about the house, I’ll put you on the deed too-”

“Don’t worry about it, Bean. I have my home, just do what she wants and move back, please?”

I chew my bottom lip, I can’t answer that right now. I have a life in Seattle; okay, it revolves around work and a small group of acquaintances, but it’s still my life. If I moved back I’d be settling right back into my old life, my old friends... there would be no way in hell I’d be able to continue to avoid my past. But Mom’s words echo through my head, and it’s her fucking dying wish. After my entire life wanting the woman’s approval and love, I’d do damn near anything now that I had it.

“I have to think about it.”

Clint nods, dropping the subject. After a few more minutes he pulls into the local grocery store parking lot. “Well,” he grins, reaching across me and grabbing his wallet from the glove box. “Now that Steve’s let the cat out of the bag, come help me grab supplies for the barbecue, I have no idea what hipsters from Seattle like to eat.”

“Ha Ha,” I grumble, but follow him anyway.

By that evening there’s paper lanterns strung across the backyard and a few dozen people are milling around, grazing at the snack bowls and standing in loose groups, drinking and talking. I recognize most of them, went to school with half of them, and am being dragged around by either Clint or Steve, depending on who’s manning the grill at the time, being introduced to the rest. Nat and Lou are surrounded by cooing women and Wanda is reclining in an outdoor chaise lounge, Sam waiting on her hand and foot, to my endless amusement.

I’m actually feeling quite relaxed, my second Dirty Corona going down way too easily and thoughts that this could be my new normal flitting casually through my head when it all comes crashing down.

“Levi.”

There’s only one person who calls me that, pronouncing it like ‘when the levee breaks’ and there’s only one person whose voice gives me chills, even after all these years. I take a deep breath, steeling myself and turn around.

“Bucky.”

#bucky barnes #au bucky barnes #sebastian stan #avengers #bucky and nika #bucky and lev

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hoard-of-sentimental-gifts · 2 years ago

Text

Dear Diary

I fucking hate living in montana, but I’m “supposed” to like it. Really? Moving away from a state I had more protection, and social freedom? Yeah its a big city, and in its own plains way pretty, but I never wanted to be here. My dad has to audacity to assume I’d fall in love with this state like they did, and is fucking SURPRISED when a year later I still don’t like being here?! Are you fucking serious? HOW? Pray do tell, how on earth am I going to fall in genuine love with something I hate when the only emotional state I’ll be in is Survival and Defense. If I’m smiling I’m happy, right? Not a mask? I spent the first couple of hours of the move weeping, not that I communicated that. I had no time to really say goodbye to anyone. He did, good for him.

The mental health care is subpar at best. Because my past psychiatrist incorrectly added my ADHD and sleep med diagnosis, I don’t have either of those meds. This one lady, I’ve had 4 less than 30min appointments with her, and she doesn’t “see” my adhd, but thinks its only ptsd. We’ve barely talked about my childhood, let alone gotten past Introductions. I was taken so off-guard when she said that, that I started panicking for several reasons (not to mention every time I see her its too hard for her to use my preferred name, and she called me Alexis, not even my legal name, let alone my chosen). god forbid I get on the Med seeking list over a misunderstanding. For another lady I asked for the idea of autistic screening, but after about 40 minutes I made “too much” eye contact. And its SO rare for an autistic individual to know and understand they’re autistic ... Mhmm, sure.

Communication is hard, and part of it I don’t like. It feels too vulnerable, I don’t like hurting other peoples feelings (even thought that’s not my responsibility), and I don’t want them to perceive it as me attacking them because I’m not. I think that’s just my trauma from no one listening to my communication before, why trust I’m going to be all of a sudden heard. Its easier to just lay there and take it, but that’s not healthy. We use BDSM for that. I never again want to bleed my trauma onto anyone else, never again.

Trust is a hard thing for me now. I used to say with an empty heart that I trusted people that I honestly never actually trusted. I over corrected and now require evidence for trust. Not an overall terrible thing, but the ones on the other side see my double checking an outside source as me not having trust. Because I understand, I wouldn’t take offense if anyone did. I’m not all-knowing, and fact check the best I can, but I’m human and I’m wrong sometimes, its inevitable.

On a happy note, I love fixing myself, its much less miserable. My anti-depressant works, I don’t have a gallbladder, I’m signed up for physical therapy for my lower back, I’m on a shot to help with PCOS, I have a semi-permanent birth control, and I’m much more mentally stable and well than I ever have been. Its great! Now I just wish I could afford to help more people with food and bills. I gotta keep myself alive in order to help others tho.

#Silently out loud

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streiknine-blog · 6 years ago

Photo

Task 001.

BUT RED WAS WHAT YOU WRAPPED AROUND YOU. BLOOD RED.

—Ted Hughes

BASIC INFORMATION.

Full Name: Vincent James Ouellet Nickname(s): Vin, Vinny, Strychnine, Striker; Strike Age: 28 Date of Birth: 13 February 1990 Hometown: Québec, Québec, Canada Current Location: Dertosa, California Ethnicity: white Nationality: Vincent is Canadian, but his mother was American, so he’s got dual citizenship Gender: cis male Pronouns: he/him Orientation: Vincent is bisexual — but also fun fact he’s never had sex Religion: agnostic — he doesn’t think too hard about it, but I could see him going for something like Roman Reconstructionalist if he actually put thought into it. Political Affiliation: (I don’t know stateside politics and neither does Vincent) Occupation: full-time Poison babey — see also: hitman Living Arrangements: he’s got a small apartment with sparse decorations — really what he was looking for when he got it was somewhere that he’d be able to relax and cook.

The kitchen is the most put-together part of the one-bedroom place, with well-loved pots, pans, and bakeware. A couple nice dishtowels in a white with navy stripes pattern hang from the handle of the oven, and a much more ragged bleach-worn dishtowel is usually seen on the counter (used for wiping up messes as they happen). Little (fake bullet) shell casing salt and pepper shakers sit on the back of the stove, along with a little porcelain rooster — “You have to have a rooster in the kitchen.” Vincent would say, “It’s good luck.” — which its paint is chipping from how old it is.

The living/eating area has a navy and grey rug that looks like he’s had it since he was in his early twenties (and, honestly, he has) and a dark-stained wooden table with four chairs — the insert to make it into a six person table for if he ever had the Poisons over sitting against the far wall, in plain sight — and just a single placemat, that is pastel and multi-coloured and looks like he stole it from a sixty year old’s kitchen décor, sitting on the table at all times.

He’s got a small, grey, apartment-sized couch that he likes to curl up an nap on, so there’s a throw blanket and a single pillow always on it.

Language(s) Spoken: English; French Accent: Light buzzing on ‘TH’, ‘Z’, and ’S’ sounds — a holdover from his Québécois upbringing; for the most part has a fairly neutral “Seattle accent” that he’s taught himself as a consequence of being around Americans and wanting to sound less ‘different’. Still has a light Québécois accent tinging his words.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

Face Claim: Zane Holtz Hair Colour: dark brown Eye Colour: blue Height: 6’1” Weight: 220ish lbs Build: lorge Tattoos: n/a Piercings: n/a Clothing Style: Simple, dark sweaters (navy, forest green, maroon, black), white dress shirts (buttoned to the top), dark sports coats, charcoal or black slacks are the standard, but he’ll wear dark wash jeans occasionally. Usually the jeans are paired with a crisp dress shirt (in any of the sweater colours) that may be rolled to to the elbows. If he’s doing the sweater + dress shirt + jeans outfit, his favourite combination is his maroon sweater with a navy dress shirt. He thinks he looks fancy in it. He’s not opposed to wearing light, airy colours (like powder blue, or dusty pink) but he gets a bit self-conscious when he wears them — thinking that they don’t suit him well enough for him to pull it off. So he sticks to dark colours and neutrals. They’re easier to hide bloodstains anyway, and the white shirts can be bleached.

Fan of French cuffs but never wears them because cufflinks are easy to lose at a scene. When he’s not on the job he’s totally breaking out the French cuffs and his silver cufflinks. There’s the occasional t-shirt + sweatpants combo but usually reserved for when he isn’t going out anywhere/not seeing anyone but the other poisons or the flower he’s booked.

For accessories, he’s got a dark grey tungsten carbide band that he wears on his left ring finger.

Usual Expression: neutral, vaguely aggressive leaning. His eyebrows make him look mad when he’s not holding them up in some form of expression. Distinguishing Characteristics: I’d say his biggest distinguishing characteristic is that he is tall and wide — like not only is this kid over six feet tall, he’s jacked as shit too.

HEALTH.

Physical Ailments: needs glasses, and he’s nearsighted — it’s partly why he prefers knives to guns. Neurological Conditions: nothing I can peg but I’m sure there’s Something. Allergies: n/a Sleeping Habits: king of the cat nap, and honestly whenever he can knock out he’s gonna. He snores too. Eating Habits: he eats a Lot and he’s decently healthy… please see his favourite food section for a more detailed food thing. Exercise Habits: Boy loves to workout — gotta keep fit for murder, y’know? He’s fond of free weights, and bars… boy loves a heavy deadlift, and he’s gotta bench press his friends at least once. He’s also one to do sprints for his cardio, especially resistance sprints. Gotta go fast.

He works until it burns and he’s comfortably sore. Totally one to have a protein shake with oats added after a hard workout.

Emotional Stability: Vincent isn’t necessarily the most emotionally competent but he’s also not especially volatile. He’s got his moments — blind fury or just enjoyment of a kill can cause him to go a lil overboard. When he laughs it’s a whole body laughs — boy’s gonna feel things all at once if he’s going to feel them at all. Sociability: He likes to be with other people but he is just so painfully awkward. He doesn’t quite realize sometimes that he’s making jokes that aren’t funny and that he should stop making poisoning jokes to the flower that is eating the meal he prepped himself but, hey, we can’t be perfect and Vinny certainly isn’t. Body Temperature: I’d say he’s a slight onto the warm side — summer is hell for him. Addictions: can I say the high of a kill? But nah he ain’t a straight up murder-obsessed guy, he just really loves that feeling. In all honesty, he loves sweet things. Drug Use: Never Alcohol Use: Rarely drinks — he doesn’t like the feeling of being drunk/tipsy, but he will go for a lite beer or two, or a mixed drink that is “light on the alcohol, heavy on the mix, please.”

PERSONALITY.

Label: the aggressor; the cold-blooded; the loyalist Positive Traits: Fearless, determined, willing Negative Traits: Ruthless, detached Goals/Desires: his biggest thing is having a balance to things, it’s a driving force behind his actions. Fears: spiders — too many legs they creep him out. Hobbies: cooking, reading, watching movies Habits: absently rotates his wrists/cracks his fingers when he’s focused on something. Mutters in French under his breath if he’s trying to figure something out.

FAVOURITES.

Weather: cold, crisp winter day with large snowflakes floating down lazily — not a flurry, just pleasant and relaxing. Probably around -15C / 5f. Colour: navy and light blue Music: top 40 hits — 22 year old Vincent was the type to sing along to ‘Call Me Maybe’ in his car by himself. Movies: comedies, supernatural themes, French and Québécois cinema. Sport: Lacrosse; hockey (fan of the Canadiens and the Maple Leafs) Beverage: Hot chocolate!

He’s one to pick the drink up from a coffee shop on the way to an appointment, or to make himself a fresh one after he’s back home. He has several different kinds of it — from those hot chocolate wands, to tins of powdered mix, to single-serve portions of it for a on-demand coffee machine — and he’s not picky. He likes the sweetness of it, and, if he’s getting one from a coffee shop, makes sure to ask for extra chocolate sauce. At home it depends how tired he is. It’ll either be basic, with just hot milk and melted chocolate or fancier on his days off with tiny marshmallows or peppermint syrup. He especially likes to make hot chocolate for those he considers friends.

Food: He’ll give most things a try, honestly.

He’s definitely fallen back on the ‘pan seared broccoli with wild rice and baked chicken breast (with smoked paprika, thyme, and black pepper)’ as a basic dinner meal for when he’s feeling lazy. If he’s not feeling lazy the sky is the fucking limit. He’ll make everything from a whole chicken or a roast with accompanying veggies, to stir-frying tofu and veggies. For lunch he’s usually eating something he’s packed — quinoa, lemon-dill salmon, asparagus; rare steak, sweet potatoes, broccolini; Cobb salad with an extra hardboiled egg or two; homemade “instant” ramen in a jar — and for breakfast he’ll either just straight up have a protein shake with oats and fruit, or some of the egg muffins he makes every few days (mushroom, cheese, ham,, quinoa) or he’ll really go all out and have French Toast or waffles.

Homemade stovetop mac n cheese is a comfort food he likes if he wants something quick (25 minutes, start to finish), but if he’s gonna make a comforting meal to distract himself he’s totally the type to go with a braised lamb sort of deal.

Animal: dogs

FAMILY.

Father: Étienne Jean Ouellet (53); president of an insurance brokerage Mother: Lillian Grace Ouellet née Richardson (51); homemaker Sibling(s): none Children: n/a Pet(s): n/a Family’s Financial Status: solidly upper-middle class. Don’t you know the insurance business is practically a license to print money?

EXTRA.

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius; 13 February 1990 MBTI: ISTJ Enneagram: type 8 — the challenger Temperament: melancholic Moral Alignment: totally pegged him as a Lawful Evil — uses murder to get his ends tidy, but has a strong sense of needing balance for things. Not one to just willy-nilly McMurder. Primary Vice: Wrath Primary Virtue: Charity Element: Earth

#tcrp.task #about #this is so extra i'm so sorry

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