#So maybe he just becomes one of those people who gets old stuff from thrift stores and gives them makeovers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justkending · 4 years ago

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Moral of the Story. Chapter Six.

Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all these years to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of old loves and lives all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N

Word Count: 3700+

A/N: Tags are closed for the rest of the series!! Please turn on your notifications if you want updates:) Also, this chapters a good one;)

Chapter Six:

That night, Y/N had plans with Wanda and Vis to go out and get a drink. However, when she called to double check, they asked if they could reschedule for another day. She told them that she was actually planning on staying a full week from Monday and that anytime that week would work for them.

So she spent the afternoon hanging out with Chloe who came home in the late morning. They went shopping in the art district and caught up over coffee before going thrifting and heading back home before dinner.

Once dinner was over, where Sherri, Thomas, Chloe, and Y/N hung out as a family, the parents went to bed early and Chloe went over to a friend's house to hang out again. Leaving Y/N by herself reading a book on the back porch.

After reading the same page for the 10th time, she let out a huff from not being able to still her mind from the events of the morning.

She looked over at the clock, seeing it was only 9:00. But in her head, it was six. She bit her thumb as she stared at the clock ticking away with each second. After about 14 tiks, she rolled her eyes before going upstairs and changing.

Maybe a night in town by herself would be nice. She noticed there was a bar Wanda and Vis had mentioned that was next to where they planned to eat and figured she deserved a drink after today.

So she put on a pair of nice jeans and a simple t-shirt with an old jean jacket that was twice her size from highschool. She fit into a little better now, but it was definitely still giant on her figure. Grabbing her dad’s car keys, she made her way to the mystery bar.

______________

Upon arriving at the bar, she realized it was a Saturday night, so it was busier than she had planned.

She found a seat at the bar and ordered a local beer before scanning out the place.

It was nice. Not really a dive bar, but an actual nice bar. There was still a pool table and a little game spot to the side, but there were booths full of people eating and talking, and even a DJ with a small dance floor on the other side.

It was a neat little place. Nothing special, but they seemed to know how to make a good drink given the reviews on the menu they proudly displayed from past customers.

Y/N was going over the menu having finished her last drink pretty fast, but before she could even read the second option on the menu, a familiar voice sounded behind her.

“Well, looky here. If it isn’t Mrs. Barnes herself.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows turning at the comment and instantly, her eyes widened.

“James?”

“Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing here?” he sauntered to the empty barstool by her. She noticed a weird sway in his walk that helped her put two and two together that something was off with him.

“I’m getting a drink,” she answered confused, lifting the beer bottle in her hand.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” he slurred. “And a beer, hmm? I figured that if you ever did start drinking, it would be the fruity stuff,” he chuckled, leaning his head in his hand that was propped on the counter.

She paid no mind to his thoughts and shot him a glare. “Are you drunk, James?”

He pouted his lips and shrugged with an ‘I don’t know, am I?’ look on his face. It quickly dropped and turned into a smirk as he readjusted in the seat.

“You know, I hate that you call me James now,” he huffed, swiveling in his seat to face forward at the bar.

“It is your name,” Y/N shook her head with a sigh. Lord this was going to be interesting. She looked around trying to find Steve or Sam even. “Are you here by yourself?”

“It’s only my name to people who don’t know me. My friends call me Bucky and you’re my friend,” he pouted again, but wasn’t looking at her. Only swirling the amber liquid in the glass tumbler she realized he had in hand now.

“Friend’s a stretch,” she mumbled, taking a long swig of the new drink. He didn’t hear her though. She looked around a little harder and couldn’t find any sign of someone they knew. “Really. Are you here alone?”

“Yes, and so are you,” he noted, finally turning to her.

“Yes, but I’m not plastered.”

“Give it some time and you could be,” he winked.

She shook her head watching as he almost slipped from his chair.

“Ja-”

“Please don’t call me that, doll. I don’t have it in me to hear you make me feel like a stranger,” he mumbled flagging down the bartender. “Can I get another one please?” He asked, raising his now empty glass. The bartender looked at him with a judging eye, and Y/N jumped in before he could possibly say yes.

“A water. He’ll have water instead,” she smiled softly. “Please and thank you.”

“Got it,” the bartender nodded before going to get him a glass.

“That’s not what I asked for,” Bucky groaned.

“We don’t always get our way, do we?” Y/N sighed, taking a long pull from her own drink. When she finally pulled away, almost emptying the glass, she noticed Bucky staring at her. “What? What are you looking at?” she said, slightly off put by the longing look he was giving her without even trying to hide it.

He broke when he noticed her giving him a weirded outlook and stood up.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

Without a second for her to react, he stood up quickly and walked to the back where the restroom signs hung above.

The bartender came back a minute later and slid the glass of water across the counter in replacement to the empty tumbler that he took back.

“You know that guy? Is he bugging you?” he asked, looking at Y/N who was now holding her head in her hands.

“I do. He’s an old family friend,” she answered looking down. “Can I get another?” she asked, shaking the now empty beer bottle to the man with a small pleading smile.

“I can get you something stronger you know? I feel like you may need it,” he said, and she noticed his tone had changed from just a server to something a little more flirty. His smirk giving away his intentions.

I mean, he wasn’t a bad looking guy. He was a young, probably early 30 year old guy, who for sure made time in his schedule to go to the gym. He had a clean shave, showing his sharp features too.

“Is it that obvious?” she chuckled, sending him back a small smirk of her own.

“You look a little strung out,” he chuckled, going to get another drink made up without her having to say yes.

“Saying it's been an eventful day, would be putting it lightly,” she sighed loudly.

The guys nodded his head in understanding and smiled as he shook up a new concoction. He poured in impressively into a glass and placed a cherry and lime on top before handing it off to her.

“On the house for that one then,” he winked. She smiled, adding a hint of flirtatious eye contact to the man, might as well. She was single… Kinda. “Hey, we make a mean batch of shredded chicken nachos too if you're hungry. I might be able to get you a discount.”

“Oh, I’m actually-,” she started, but was quickly interrupted.

“She’s vegetarian,” Bucky practically growled at the man behind the bar as he took his seat back.

“Oh,” the guy said, taken aback.

“He’s right, but thank you for the offer,” she smiled politely before sending Bucky a glare. Unfortunately he didn’t see it as he was sending a glare of his own to the man on the other side of the counter.

Knowing Bucky would make matters worse, she decided to move on from the bartender for the moment.

“I’m so sorry about him,” she scoffed, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to bring his attention back to her and deter his evil stare from the innocent person. “I think I’m going to get him home actually.”

“I’m not going home yet,” Bucky spoke up, being ignored by the two anyway.

“Probably a good idea,” the mystery bartender man nodded before looking back at Y/N with that flirty grin again. “Listen, I don’t know if you’re here very often, but I’ll be on shift tomorrow the same time if you wanted to drop by. Maybe I can get you some of our famous fries instead,” he winked, leaning more her direction.

“That actually sounds nice,” she began.

“Well, I hate to break it to you sir, but she’s married,” Bucky said with a deep voice almost perfectly sober now.

Y/N shot him wide eyes and saw that any form of drunkenness was hidden in that moment. He had become a big alpha male right there and was showing he was not one to mess with. Was he seriously jealous? Of a man offering her a drink and fries?

“James!” Y/N smacked his arm.

“What? Am I wrong?” he responded, a hint of anger in his response to her as his eyes showed pain when he made eye contact with her finally.

“Yes! Very!” Y/N responded.

“On the contrary, I’m not,” he said, taking a step closer.

The two were now chest to chest as he looked down at her and she looked up at him. The tension high and their eyes staring into the others soul. Anger and hurt in both their stances and stares.

“I need to go help another customer,” the bartender spoke up awkwardly.

Y/N broke from the stare down and sent him an apologetic look. Bucky was still looking at her as if his eyes were magnetically attached to her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she paused looking for a name tag and seeing Bradley inscripted on a metal plate pinned to his shirt. “Bradley. I don’t know why,” she hissed looking at Bucky for a second who rolled his eyes at her before she turned back. “He’s acting this way.”

“It’s fine. You guys have a good night,” he waved off with a kind smile before sending Bucky a weary look and going back to his job.

Y/N took a deep breath before turning to Bucky who was still inches from her and looking down at her. His face was stoic and grumpy.

“How did you get here?” He didn’t answer her harsh tone. “James, how did you get here?” she said, this time leaving no room for silence as she gave him a death glare.

“I drove,” he answered deeply.

“Give me your keys,” she laid her hand out in front of him.

“No.”

“Stop acting like a literal child and give me your keys.” The stubbornness between the two only grew as the other refused to break. “Fine, don’t give me your keys. I’m driving you home either way.”

“I’m not ready to go home,” he slurred some. His facade of trying to cover his drunkenness was fading as he eased up on trying to intimidate someone now.

“Well, I say you are. Come on,” she rolled her eyes, taking his hand and dragging him to the door.

“Hey!” he fought back, but she was walking too fast that his alcohol soaked brain was only focused on not tripping and couldn’t work on stopping himself.

“God, you are a mess. Can’t do anything without fucking supervision,” she mumbled once they were outside.

“You have a mouth on you,” he said as he crossed his arms and waited for her to fish out the keys.

“Yeah, well, some of us have changed since college,” she retorted.

“I’ve changed,” he said softly.

“You sure as hell aren’t acting like it,” she said through her teeth, frustrated in not finding the keys fast enough.

“Do you only remember our bad moments? Is that all you allow yourself to think of?” he shot back, but she ignored him and opened his door before moving to the driver side.

The car ride to Bucky’s shared apartment with Steve was filled with tension. Bucky sitting like a scolded child on the side while Y/N was the parent furious with him for causing a scene in a public place.

“That Bradley guy flirts with every girl that walks in there,” he mumbled about 5 minutes into the drive. He didn’t get a response. When he looked over to see if she had reacted at all, all he saw was a bitch face on her that was focused on the road ahead. “He’s kinda a dick from what I’ve heard the girls say about him that go in and out.”

“Are you there that often that you know the waitstaff's dating profiles?” she sassed.

“No, I’m just saying from what I know, he doesn’t deserve you.” He had said the last part so softly, that if the car wasn’t as awkwardly quiet as it was, Y/N wouldn’t have been able to make it out.

She turned to look at him finally and saw him with his head propped against the glass of the window. He was avoiding eye contact and had opted to watching the city lights pass by for the rest of the car ride.

Y/N wasn’t sure how to respond or if she even should. What was the point anyway? He wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning and she wasn’t supposed to care… At least that’s what she told herself.

She was able to get to the apartment after Wanda sent his and Steve’s address thankfully.

“Ok, we’re here,” Y/N parked in the front of the apartment.

It was one of those buildings that looked like a house in a neighborhood where all of them were side by side going up 3 floors. But in their case, each floor was a different flat/apartment. It was updated and in the nicer part of town, so clearly he and Steve were well off.

From what Wanda had said, Bucky was on the top floor and Steve was renting out the middle floor within the next month. So he had been crashing at Bucky’s until the lease for the current tenant was up and the space was open.

“Thanks,” Bucky groaned. He had sobered up some from the drive, but considering how far gone he was earlier, he couldn’t be that much better.

He opened the door and sloppily got out of the car almost tripping on the curb and stumbling to the steps.

Y/N groaned leaning forward and hitting her head on the steering wheel by her hands.

“Don’t do it Y/N. Don’t do it,” she repeated, but when she looked back up, he was sitting on the middle of the steps with one hand rubbing his temple. “And you’re going to do it…”

She got out of the car and came to the front of him. Her anger had dissipated some and now she felt pity for the poor guy.

“You good?” she asked, and he looked up with her in surprise.

“I got a little dizzy,” he answered before going back massaging his head.

“Need some help?” she sighed, offering her hand.

He slowly raised his eyes to look at the gesture before looking at her.

“Why are you being nice? I’ve only been a drunken dick to you tonight,” he groaned, taking her hand anyway. “I’m surprised you didn’t dump me off and speed away.”

“Yeah, well. We’ve all been dicks at some point. Doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a helping hand here and there,” she nodded as they walked up the steps. “What button do I push?”

“Last one on the right,” Bucky said, putting his head back down as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned on the door for support from the world spinning around him.

She did as told, and the button let out a blunt ring as it called the floor above.

“Hello?” a voice replied.

“Steve? It’s Y/N,” she answered.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Steve asked in shock.

“I’m delivering you your drunk best friend. Mind ringing me up?” she answered in a tired tone.

“Uh, yeah, yeah! One sec.” The bell sounded, giving the two access to the unlocked door now.

Bucky rolled away from it as Y/N opened it for them both and they started their way to the nice elevator off to the side by the stairs.

Once the doors shut, Bucky looked over to Y/n who had been avoiding eye contact the entire time. He finally took in her presence and noticed she was wearing one of her favorite jean jackets from highschool. One that he had actually gifted to her. He chuckled a little at it as it still hung loosely on her even after all these years.

“What are you laughing at?” she asked.

And when he met her eyes, he didn’t see the harsh bite back that he had received most of the evening. Instead, there was a small sense of amusement in her question.

“Nothing, just the jacket,” he pointed.

She looked down as if she forgot what she was wearing and then it registered.

“Right, you gave me this for one of our anniversaries,” she chuckled some. He hadn’t heard a genuine laugh from her this entire day. Sure it was the smallest and diluted chuckle ever, but It sounded nice.

“Still have the patch?” he asked.

She pulled it away from her body some and looked in the breast pocket, nodding.

When he had got it, it was nothing special but an older, worn out, and thrifted jean jacket. But to make it special, he found a little iron on patch of the world to put inside the pocket. He had told her that she always had the world in her pocket with the light that she was for it. She would and could do just about anything to make a room and this entire planet light up just by smiling.

Bucky couldn’t help the goofy smile that came across his face knowing she didn’t rip it out in spite at some point in all these years. That jacket had a little more meaning to them then just being a shield from the brisk air.

Once the elevator reached the floor, Y/N motioned Bucky out.

“I don’t know where to go from here, so I hope you’re sober enough to point me the right direction,” she smirked playfully.

Bucky returned it, not wanting to chance taking away the civil actions happening in the moment.

“Right,” he agreed, coming out and making his way down the new hall. “Steve,” he shouted loudly. Lucky for them, they had the whole floor to themselves.

Steve’s head poked out of the door less than a second later.

“Hey,” he said with a confused face that was attempting to be covered by a kind smile.

“I’m going to go inside before I made more of a fool of myself,” Bucky mumbled, pushing past Steve who moved to the outside of the hall. “Thanks for bringing me back, Y/N,” he said with a tight embarrassed smile. “Sorry for being a dick again.”

Not that Y/N would have said anything back, but even if she had, he stalked away with his head low and disappeared into the apartment before she would have a chance.

“Do I want to know?” Steve sighed.

“Uh, even I’m not too sure what went on tonight,” Y/N responded, putting her hand in the jacket pockets and rocking on her feet.

“Do I need to apologize for his actions?” Steve chuckled, looking down at her bashfully.

“He’s a big boy Stevie, he can take responsibilities for his actions,” Y/N chuckled back.

“Right. You would think he would act like the grown man that he is, but it looks as though we were both thrown for a loop tonight.”

“Guess so.”

“Hey, Wanda told me you’re here for the week now. Your travel plans changed. Are the rumors true?” Steve asked, moving the subject away from the awkward one.

“Uh, yeah. I was going to text you tomorrow morning, but looks like I was beat to the punch.”

“Well, we’ll all have to hang out soon then. It’s been too long,” he winked. The two gave each other a quick hug, but Steve didn’t let go and looked down at her. “How are you doing? Clearly the other part of this equation isn’t doing too hot,” he noted, looking in the open apartment door before back at her.

“Seems we are handling the second part of this divorce a little different than the other, but I can’t say it’s been fun,” she responded, following his eyeline. “Uh, listen. I hate to see you for like two seconds after all this time and split, but I’m kinda beat from the day.”

Steve pulled away and patted her back nodding.

“No, no. I completely understand. I know from experience, drunk Bucky isn't an easy one to take care of. Plus... Everything else on top of that.”

“Yeah...”

“You go ahead and head home. I’ll call you later to set up a time for the team to meet and catch up. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan, Cap,” she winked.

He rolled his eyes with a smile before waving her off. “Want me to walk you down?”

“Nah, I parked right out front. I should be fine,” she shook her head as she headed back for the elevators. “Um, his car is still at the bar by the way. You may need to go pick it up tomorrow. I didn’t want him driving home, given his state.”

“Thank you for that. I’m sorry again,” Steve grimaced.

“Don’t apologize, just uh… Just get him some advil and lots of water. I’ll see you later.”

“Will do. Bye, Everest!” he bantered back with her own nickname.

“God, haven’t heard that one in years,” she laughed before the elevator doors shut.

With a heavy sigh and lots of thoughts on her mind, the car ride home felt like it never happened.

Tags are closed for this series. Please turn on notifications if you would like updates:)

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley @ximaginx @vicmc624 @leyannrae @lonerlovescompany @jessyballet @angstysebfan @tita127 @semistablecentenarian @im-a-light-child @alyssahowden @studiesinspanish @natyvwe @rebekahdawkins @fanfictionjunkie1112 @millennial-teenybopper @scotlandasshole @aquariusbarnes @shinykoalacat @wayward-river @buckyswillows @natdrunk @caxtainamerica @iloveangstposts @fanngirl19

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @pham-tastical @livstilinski

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk @princess-annna

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia @stopjustlovethemcu

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x highschool sweetheart #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au series #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #marvel fanfic #justkending #marvel au #marvel au series #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader insert #moral of the story

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 4 years ago

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The Red Witch

Jasper Hale x Reader part 2

A/N: So here is the 2nd part everyone! I hope you like it!

Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.

Warning: language. Blood

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

“(Y/N)? Are you ok?” You hear your friend Melanie ask you, her voice laced with concern as she places a comforting hand on your shoulder, bringing you out of your thoughts.

Your head was beginning to throb violently and the scent of everyone’s blood was beginning to reach you. You could sense their pulse, the flow of their blood through their veins, and a part of you, deep down inside, hungered for it. Not in the way vampires felt, but in a way that you wanted to rip their souls out of their bodies and bathe in their blood while you only gained more power. And it sickened you. It sickened you to the very core.

“I think I need some fresh air.” You turn to face her, only to hear her gasp when she stares at your eyes.

“What? What is it?” You ask her.

She pulls you to the back of the shop, making sure no one noticed before speaking to you in a hushed tone. “(Y/N), hun, I don’t want to freak you out but, your eyes are red.”

“They’re what?!” You stare back at her in confusion before pulling out your phone to see for yourself only to let out a gasp as well.

Both your eyes were blackened in this deep blood red that covered not only your irises but your sclera as well, resembling something of a demon from the pits of hell. You shut your eyes in response, not even wanting to look at yourself, the mere sight of your eyes horrified you.

“Shit shit shit. This isn’t supposed to happen. I haven’t had this happen to me in a long time, not since I was little.” You hiss, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Does that mean?”

“Yes. I let my stupid emotions control me. And now look.” You run a hand through your hair as you open your eyes back up, staring at the floor. “I need to go. I need to go before this gets worse and I hurt someone.

“Don’t worry hun. You go and sort it out. I’ll close the shop early. And please, remember to breathe.”

You nod in agreement before taking out a pair of your sunglasses from your purse and throwing them on to cover your eyes. You slip on your black leather jacket, grabbing your belongings and rush out the shop. With a quickened pace, you walk over to your 1967 dark blue Shelby Mustang with white racing stripes and hop in. You strapped on your seatbelt and put your keys in the ignition to start the car, gripping the wheel as you closed your eyes, listening to and feeling the rumble of the engine. It was one of those things that calmed you down, you always loved the sound of muscle cars.

Taking a deep breath you rev up your engine and drive off, the sound of your car echoing through the streets as you race out of town and towards the woods so that you can be away from from everyone. You had your windows down and your radio up, enjoying the feeling of the wind against your face as the scenery around you blurred past.

You pulled up to a small clearing not too far from the road and got out of your car. Looking at the trees around you, you throw your head back and take a deep breath, taking in the smell of the forest. The throbbing in your head was still there but it was starting to fade. You slip off your gloves and sit down near your car. Glancing down at your hands you noticed that they were turning pitch black with tendrils that seemed to wrap it’s way up your arm, like a poison that runs through your veins only to reach your heart to provide an inevitable ending. Your powers felt like a poison coursing through your veins, and the thought of it ever reaching your heart made your blood run cold. You also noticed that your fingernails have grown to a sharp point, like the claws of an animal.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You needed to stop this.

You unlace your black dr martens and kick them off, digging your toes into the grass and feeling the earth beneath you as you closed your eyes, taking deep breaths as you tried to become one with your surroundings. Earth, fire, water, air, spirit.

You hadn’t used your powers in a long time and were out of practice. And yet, you felt like you needed to. You feared that if you didn’t learn to control it, you would eventually succumb to it and then your powers would eventually control you. And that was the last thing you wanted. With a deep breath you open your eyes back up and stare at your hands. Using your sharp nail, you slice into your arm and watch as the blood slips out of your wound before swirling around your fingers. You try to focus on a certain object and watch as the red substance slowly flows together, forming a red dagger in your hand.

So you weren’t completely out of practice. You let out a sigh of some form of relief, watching the blade melt back into blood, slipping back inside your wound before healing itself. Then slowly, your hands and fingernails returned to normal.

Thank goodness.

After a short period of sitting on the grass and listening to the peaceful sound of the wind and the birds, you pull your phone out of your back pocket to look at the time.

Shit.

Your little sister Harper was going to be off of school in a couple of minutes and you didn’t want to be late. You throw your docs back on and get back in your car before starting your engine and racing off out of the forest and towards Forks high school. You had your radio turned up and currently Led Zeppelin was playing as you pulled up to the high school.

You left the radio on and got out, leaning against the hood of your car with your arms crossed over your chest. You stood there, searching for your sister and finally see her appear out the front entrance.

She had her backpack slung across one arm, her 80s style windbreaker blowing against the wind. She was wearing her old white sweatshirt she found at the thrift store that had Scooby Doo on it, tucked into her high waisted jeans that were rolled up to show off her funky new socks that she just bought because they had dinosaurs all over it. The laces of her white converse were hastily tied as she makes her way over to you with her head lowered.

The way she dressed always made you smile, she always looked like she stepped out of an 80s sitcom, and it perfectly resembled her dorky and full of life personality. Standing next to each other, no one would have ever thought you two were related, with your dark choice of clothes and her bright and colorful ones.

“Hey scooter.” You smile at her once she approaches you.

“Hey” she mumbles out quietly, pushing her glasses up as she gets to the passenger side, making you raise your brow.

Huh. What’s wrong with her?

You turn around to get back into your car before a familiar face stops you in your tracks, making your clench your fist as your breath hitches in your throat.

“Oh you have got to be shitting me.” You hiss, looking away once Jasper catches your stare.

Great, so Jasper and the other vampires happen to go to the same high school your sister goes to. Just great.

You catch Harper giving you a wtf look before turning around to follow your eyes to see for herself what you were getting so upset over.

“(Y/n)?”

“It’s nothing Harper, get in the car.” You shake it off as you both get in.

You sensed Harper watching you carefully as you start your car back up and pull back out of the parking lot. You gave Jasper one last glance, feeling him staring into your soul as you drove off.

How could someone you’ve sworn to forget, someone who didn’t even remember you, still have such an effect over you?

“So how was school?” You ask her as you make your way back to your home, which was located away from town. You could still feel her staring at you.

“It was okay. Nothing special.” She shrugs, looking at the road in front of her before turning back to you. “So what’s up with you? How come you’re acting so moody?”

“So what, you’re my therapist now?”

“Well you were totally chill until you saw that weird pale, Lestat looking dude.”

Did she just call him Lestat?? Wheeze!

There was a pause before her eyes widened a little. “Wait, is he? Is he the same guy that’s in your necklace?”

You clench your wheel as your back straightens up, using your free hand to grasp the intricate gold locket you wore around your neck. The one Jasper gave you many many years ago that he had custom made to have a dragonfly on it. The one you put a small picture of him in to remember him by.

“Did you go through my things?” You raise your brow at her.

“.......maybe.”

“Harper.”

“Hey! I was bored okay. It’s not like I did it recently. And you have so much old shit anyways.”

“Hey, language.” You shake your head with a roll of your eyes. “And it’s not just any old shit okay. It’s stuff that means a lot to me.”

“Looks like a bunch of ancient junk to me.”

“Oh so you’re calling me ancient now.”

“Well technically....”

“Harper.”

“Ok! Sorry!” Harper laughs before getting serious again. “But seriously though, who was he? You’ve like never told me about him.”

You let out a sigh, feeling a lump in your throat that felt like it refused to go away. “That’s because it hurts to talk about him. Jasper and I, he used to court me back in 1862. Harper.....we were supposed to get married.”

A/N: Part 3 coming soon! I didn’t want this chapter to be too long so I had to split it. Thanks for all the support you beautiful people! 😁

Tags: @twilight-kpop @cricketlicket @bella-stenbakken @ineffabledears @elisemurphy06 @ashdab2611 @pancake-pages @toomanybandstocare @cammellia

#jasper whitlock imagine #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale x you #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x y/n #jasper whitlock #jasper hale #twilight imagines #twilight imagine

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awxward · 4 years ago

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A3! Boys + My Stuffed Animals

Spring Troupe:

Sakuya

Gabriel

Gabriel is a small elephant with big ears that constantly make him fall over. He has a pink bowtie that says 'I Love You'

Makes Saku feel safe and Gabriel is a reminder to himself that he's loved and appreciated by everyone at Mankai.

Named after a friend from theatre class :)

Masumi

George Washington

George Washington is a tiger. He is small, but his arms are like those slap bracelets so you can wear him on your wrist (or let him hang on the side of shelf like I do).

So I got Georgy-Boy for easter 2020. i asked my friends for name ideas. They sent me stuff like 'Stripes'. I went offline for a few minutes and when I came back online I told my friends his name was George Washington.

//////////

Me: tiger has a name now

Friend: which name did you choose?

Me: his name is George Washington.

Friend: what the fuck. how'd you get George Washington?

//////////

Pretty sure he got the name bc I was listening to the Hamilton soundtrack.

Citron

Daniel

Daniel is mostly pink but has other pastel colors that look like watercolors. He's a unicorn. And a ketchain. And he's one of those dream lites, so he lights up. (He's supposed too anyway, but he's never lit up since i got him like 7 years ago at a yard sale).

Named after Daniel Howell (formerly danisnotonfire) [YouTube]

Tsuzuru

Lucifer

Lucifer is a small panda pillow pet. Very easy to travel with bc he fits in most backpacks.

My mom told me she wanted me to have a stuffed animal with a biblical name, i picked him up, looked her in the eye and said "His name is Lucifer." My mom tried to protest. "You said a biblical name, Mom. Lucifer is in the bible."

Itaru

Pao(???)

Pao is a panda. They are also a phone holder thingy. Like it'll hold your phone if you're watching movies or whatever.

Like 5-ish years old. Got them from a friend. They have a tag with their name on it, but I read it once and then just called them "the panda" for some reason instead of their actual name and now the tag is too faded to read the name, but i am 38% sure it says Pao or something close to that.

Chikage

Tsuki

Tsuki is a dinosaur. Tsuki is a sparkly dino. He's green rn, but if you brush your hand over him, the sparkles turn over and he becomes orange. I like green tho bc his tummy and the bottom of his feet are orange and so are his eyes.

Named after Tsukishima Kei (Haikyuu)

Summer Troupe:

Tenma

Hinata

Hinata is a narwhal. A bright orange narwhal. Infact he is the same color as Tenma's hair.

Named after Hinata Shoyo (Haikyuu) [bc its the same color as his hair. there is a theme with this narwhal and the anime boys i associate with them]

Yuki

Steve

Steve is a regular teddy bear, except he has a shirt that has pikachu on it. (the shirt was originally Tsuki's bc i got tsuki at a friends build a bear bday party, but it fits Steve better)

I just think Yuki would try new designs/color schemes/styles by making clothes for Steve to see how they look.

I got Steve from a claw machine (my bf at time won him for me just before we watched Endgame together.)

Named after Steve Rogers (Marvel)

Muku

Eeyore

Muku most definitely loves the Winnie the Pooh movies and I will fite for this hc. He gets my Eeyore. You know how Eeyore's tail is always going missing or falling off??? Eeyore's tail comes off (velcro) but its attached to his actual body with a string so it cant be misplaced.

Eeyore has a patch that says "official disney store" but i got him for $3 at a thrift store.

Misumi

Sherlock

Sherlock is a polar bear. Sherlock is very huggable. He makes Misumi feel safe. He has a hat and scarf (that don't come off. they are sewn on him)

the hat has a pom pom on top and the scarf has a pom pom on each end. the hat and scarf and the bottom of his feet have a blue/white plaid pattern.

Kazunari

Victor

Victor is a puppy and the first big stuffed animal of mine on the list! He's all tan and abt maybe 3-4 ft long. Victor lays pretty flat so he's comfy to lay/sit on. I think Kazu would like sitting or laying on him when drawing. Probably has him on his bed so he's like a giant pillow.

Victor is from Toys R Us. I got him last August-ish from my Aunt and Uncle who found him at a thrift store and thought I'd like him.

Named after Victor Nikiforov (Yuri On Ice)

Kumon

PJ is a small white tiger. He is also a ball. He can fit in one hand. When Kumon is thinking or stressed or bored (etc) he just lays on his back and tosses PJ up into the air.

When Kumon is laying on the floor tossing PJ, Misumi sits on the bed closest to where PJ is and tries to grab him (but only if Kumon is in a good mood and okay with it) It's a fun little game they made up they like to play.

Pretty sure he was named after KickthePJ (YouTube)

liber pls give us a pic with all of autumn i am begging

Autumn Troupe:

Banri

Sammy

Sammy is another one of my large stuffed animals. He is also a puppy, but unlike Victor he is sitting instead of laying. He's abt 2-3 ft tall. His fur is the same color as Banri's hair. Great to squeeze at anytime, but very therapeutic when you're in a bad mood. Has a heart on his ear.

i got him abt 7 years ago. I had just finished spn season 2 and was upset abt the finale and had no way to start season 3.

Named after Sam Winchester

Juza

Tiggs

Tiggs is a beanie baby tiger. Tiggs is a little larger than PJ (and not a ball). He's a regular orange tiger instead of a white tiger like PJ. He'd buy Kumon PJ so they could have matching stuffed animals. Small and very comforting to just hold/hug.

Omi

Benedict (Ben)

Benedict, also known as Ben, is a small koala. Just a little bigger than Tiggs. He has a heart on one of his feet (i think the right one). very soft. very fluffy.

Named after Benedict Cumberbatch (Actor)

Taichi

Dean

Dean is my largest stuffed animal. He is a dark brown teddy bear that's abt 4-ish ft tall. He can be put in a corner and used as like a bean bag chair, or he can lay down flat and be a good pillow like Victor can.

It's very fun to just wrap around him and squeeze as tight as you can. Especially in when your in a bad mood. Very comforting to cry into.

I got him a couple years ago at a thrift store.

Named after Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Sakyo

Lev

Lev is a lion abt the size of a regular teddy bear (maybe slightly larger). I got him a thrift store so he's slightly worn out from age. He's mostly a pastel dark yellow-ish tan and his mane is dark brown. very huggable.

He's the stuffed animal I sleep with. Smells nice all the time, like the fabric softener.

Named after Lev Haiba (Haikyuu)

Sakoda

Emotional Support Iron Man

So Iron Man is small and he sparkles. He will hurt you/someone if thrown hard enough. Sakoda likes heroes bc they remind him of Sakyo they look cool. I'd hc that he got Iron Man from Sakyo when he was younger and its one of his most valued possessions and goes everywhere with him (or stays with Azamo or Sakyo at the dorm. Maybe Izumi or a couple others are on the list of who can watch over Iron Man.) Very protective of it.

Got the emotional support part of his name from a friend.

She saw Eddie Redmayne on a movie cover (think it was The Danish Girl) and started freaking out bc she loved him. I handed her the Iron Man and the next day she thanked me and said he was an Emotional Support Iron Man and the name stayed.

Azami

[Emotional Support] Spooder-Mon

Sakoda knew Azami as a kid. He most definitely got him the Spider-Man so they could have matching plushies.

Spider-Man is square and has little blob hands doing the web thingy. The tag said travel pillow, but he probably just chills by Azami's bed. When needed, Iron Man will be placed next to him if Sakoda can't take Iron Man with him.

I brought him to school one day and we had a bio test and all the people sitting around me passed him around and gave him a pat for good luck. We all got good grades and then he was dubbed as Emotional Support Spooder-Mon, but the Emotional Support title isnt part of his name (unlike the Iron Man).

i wanted guy in the pic, but i also wanted tsumu and hiso in the pic so you get 2 pics for winter

Winter Troupe:

Tsumugi

Phil

Phil is a zebra. He is a pillow pet zebra. Like Lucifer, Phil is also easy travel size. The bottom half of Phil is pink, so I refer to him as my pink zebra.

I just think it'd be cute to have Tsumugi with a pillow pet ok. I also thought he'd probably have has Phil for many years (since he was a kid) and Tasuku most definitely brings up things from when they were kids and shit.

//////////

Tasuku: you chose the pink zebra, and for what???

Tsumugi: its a very aesthetically pleasing pastel pink.

Tasuku: THERE WAS A DOG PILLOW PET RIGHT THERE AND IT WAS CUTER

Tsumugi: dont talk bad abt Phil.

the rest of mankai: ????????

//////////

I got phil before I got Lucifer many years ago. He was old when i got him and he is very old now. I love him so much.

Named after Phil Lester (AmazingPhil) [YouTube]

Tasuku

Cap

Cap is a husky. He was won from a claw machine with Steve.

There's just something abt the grey and white that gave me Tasuku vibes. Also, Cap's eyes are abt the same shade of blue as Tsumugi's and Tasuku knows this bc they are in love. Very squishy when hugged and with the way he sits, you could make it look like he's guarding something.

Named after Captain America (Marvel)

Homare

Ushijima (Ushi)

Ushijima, also called Ushi, is the last of my giant stuffed animals. He is abt 2-3 ft tall (like Sammy) and has a tail abt the same length.

Ushi is a raccoon thats mostly hot pink. Ushi's eyes are also pink and just abt the same shade as Homare's hair, although Ushi's fur is brighter by a few shades.

Ushi hurts when thrown/swung hard enough. Very fun to hug bc he's filled with beans (like beanie babies) so unlike all my other giant animals, he doesn't have to be fixed/adjusted after everytime you squeeze him. The tail has cotton tho and makes a good pillow.

Homare would definitely just see a 3 ft tall hot pink raccoon and claim it with no explanation.

Named after Ushijima Wakatoshi (Haikyuu)

Hisoka

Vladmir Dracula the 3rd (Vlad, Drac)

Vladmir Dracula the 3rd, who has many other names but usually goes by Vlad or Drac, is a vampire (surprise).

Vlad is a squishmallow thingy, and their tags say something abt them being able to be used as pillows, and thats why Hisoka gets Vlad.

Vlad is triangular in shape, with triangle ears, and triangle fangs, so I thought abt Misumi, but i figured Hisoka bc it's a pillow.

He's like the perfect travel size and he has a cape and a bowtie.

Named after Vlad the Impaler, the real life inspiration behind Dracula (my brother thought he was named after Vladmir Putin and I wanted to punch him for that but I was too busy laughing.)

Also named after Dracula, who was a vampire.

Idk where 'the 3rd' came from, but it's part of his name for forever.

Azuma

Sebastian

Sebastian is a dinosaur thats blue with a white tummy.

He's also a squishmallow, but he's bigger than Vlad by abt 2× as wide, so he'd be harder to carry around, which is why Hisoka got Vlad instead. Being a squishmallow means he looks more blob than dinosaur and i love it.

His tag said his name was Dominic or something, but I named him Sebastian before I actually checked the tag, so he's Sebastian.

Named after Sebastian (Black Butler) and Sebastian Stan (Actor)

Guy

Moriarty

Moriarty is my other polar bear. I got him with Sherlock and named him Moriarty bc Moriarty is Sherlock's nemesis.

He's just a plain white bear thats very huggable and adorable. I usually have a bowtie on him bc it makes him look fancy.

Guy would like him bc he's plain white and very fluffy.

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red-hood-vigilante · 4 years ago

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more hbo spn rambles, thoughts, drabbles etc. long long post.

part 1 here

there’s some things i’ve omitted here bc others have already posted about those things, certain headcanons and characterizations and stuff. those posts are in my likes somewhere (and i’ll reblog them someday), and there’s some posts i’ve read but not liked, which i now can only vaguely remember, which is why some ideas/thoughts are similar

ALSO most of these follow the model i talked about in part one: how s1-5 will stay more or less how they are but s6-10 is changed (some things are cut out entirely, some things are tweaked and some characters + arcs are more fleshed out. more focus on sam’s trauma and post-cage adaptation to the real world as well as dean letting his rage and control issues consume him and how he’d recover and redeem himself)

as i typed these paragraphs, i realized i really have 10 seasons mapped out and ready to go. hbo hire me!!

alright go:

sam and dean get wearier as the show progresses (second half), and eventually they stop putting so much care and thought in the people they save. like...hm how do i say this, like as long as a victim/victims are saved, they don’t care about how that happens or how those people suffer potential consequences, like if the victims lose a limb or have their homes burned down because of the monster, then sam and dean don’t really care. they saved your life, now they’ll leave you with your life in potential shambles and not care because all that matters is that they saved your life, not how it is afterwards. they still care about saving that one person, but eventually it pales a little in comparison to a war between heaven and hell, being the vessels etc. ---> saving people becomes less about making sure they’re actually alright and healing from horrific events and more about just making sure they have a pulse before they move on

when angels lose their wings they are either burned off in the actual fall or ripped off of them in their vessels, which leaves pretty nasty scars on the vessel

ed and harry are so young and bright eyed about the whole hunting thing; sam and dean as kids, idolizing it, finding it exciting and intriguing when they shouldn’t. sam and dean try to get them out of the business before they too are too traumatized and desensitized to do anything but hunt. neither sam or dean will say it but they are jealous of ed and harry and their freedom to leave, and hate them for choosing this voluntarily instead of being dragged into it by tragedy

hbo spn is a slow burn. there’s a lot more shots of sam and dean in silence just sitting together after a hunt, exhausted and too tired to move yet. they’re covered in blood and guts on the side of the road after killing or covered with dirt in a graveyard after burning bones, sitting next to the fire, just watching it. the times they park the car and watch the stars? we get to see it.

dean wears rings and the amulet all the time in the beginning, for the first five seasons. the rings vary; first they’re some of john’s old ones and stuff he finds in thrift stores. then later on he begins wearing rings from people they’ve saved/haven’t saved as a keepsakes etc. when he begins his descent to the holy murderer in s6-10 he wears less and less rings. they don’t matter anymore -> symbolically shedding who he was and what mattered to him

the only accessories sam has is a rosary/cross around his neck. he has jess’ engagement ring in his pocket/wallet. after the cage he vaguely remembers why the ring was there and who jessica was (more on this further down)

the four horsemen are manifestations of different aspects of human nature at its most grotesque and strongest, can’t be killed as long as humans live. war is conflict, famine is desire, pestilence is physical and mental illnesses.

(the seven sins are like the horsemen, tulpas of human nature instead of demons)

death isn’t a concentration of an existing aspect of humans as much as it is the end of life, the antithesis of life. death the oldest of the horsemen and has existed since the beginning of any life, organism, cell and atom. the opposite of life and light, the other half of god (as i’m typing this i’m confused as to why amara was the opposite of god instead of death). death isn’t evil or good, remains 100% objective. doesn’t care for sam or dean at all, but has a begrudging respect for their stubbornness and entertainment they provide due to their flat out refusal to do as they’re told by celestial bodies when anyone else would crumble

by including death i feel like it very naturally begs questions of who decides when someone dies, when someone lives, why would death follow these guides instead of reaping whomever whenever, what happens if a life isn’t reaped at the right time etc. the reader in me adore the idea of death having a library with books and records of everyone who has ever lived and died and how they died - but then, who writes these books and why? do they decide, and if in that case, how? these questions are above my paygrade but you know what i mean? like there has to be some sort of system right, god created everything, death executes to maintain order, some third party deity writes the laws and the books. the three branches of government. ok but it’s hbo so again, i think we shouldn’t dive this deep into things, like as much as these topics intrigue me i don’t want to stray too much from the dirt road trip aesthetic

shapeshifters are extremely rare because they don’t require any kind of human blood or organs/sacrifice to live

i want more exploration of how magic is like science, like it just needs the right ingredients and right conditions. sam thinks of magic as an obscure branch of science; it just requires research and knowledge and clear intentions because science can be controlled and do a lot of good when used responsibly. dean doesn’t like it. he doesn’t trust the unpredictable elements and he’s seen enough to know it never goes well. magic is a force that can’t be controlled by anyone.

sam and dean have full on fist fights regularly. to practice and keeping each other sharp, but also because they’re siblings. they’re feral, insane and unhinged with each other and they get on each other’s nerves A LOT. it’s petty and childish and sometimes it can get a lil ugly but it becomes their way of family therapy. after a fight the next scene cuts to sam and dean with ruffled clothes, nosebleeds and swollen lips at a diner eating silently after beating each other up. either they sit in silence because they’re tired or both are harping on the other’s openings and weaknesses

sometimes they’ll fight a little dirty but they do so in different ways; dean will pull the old ‘look!’ and point to something and then tackle sam when he turns to look while sam will just cry out in fake pain which makes dean stop dead in his tracks before sam headbutts him or kicks him in the groin

we, the audience get used to these fights, they’re sometimes funny and for comic relief, sometimes for narrative purposes (like tricking a monster they’re fighting each other when they’re really not) BUT. then comes the times when sam and dean are actually fighting without holding back and we see how much they are capable of hurting each other or how heartbreaking and difficult it can be to watch when of them are incapable of fighting back/doesn’t defend himself -> swan song when dean doesn’t fight back against possessed sam, or when dean beats soulless sam unconscious

sam and dean also just verbally bully each other constantly but they do have their odd ways of expressing affection and care. they get the other person their fave snack whenever they go grocery shopping without being asked to and are the only other one they truly trust to have their back in hunts. have a cup of coffee ready before the other asks for one. brothers and each other’s best friend. nightmare duo but in a sweet way. the cooperation of ‘the usual suspects’ when they’re in different interrogation rooms but still has the cover story down to a t. code words and code names and cover stories, they know it all

when sam and dean fight together against a common enemy they’re a damn nightmare - because they know each others weaknesses and habits, they cover each other perfectly and in complete silence. they’ve been at it together since they were kids and read each other’s nonverbal cues like a picture book

to build off of what i said in part 1; the winchesters are pretty hated in the hunter’s community. even the people sam and dean frequently work with (bobby, ellen, jo, ash, rufus, bela, kevin, charlie, castiel etc) roasts them all the time and don’t hesitate with calling them out on their self-pitying crap when it get’s too much (spn was just objectively better when characters weren’t afraid of dragging sam and dean through the mud for being selfish and stupid) and this WILL persist in hbo spn. the only reason people continue working with sam and dean is because they know deep down a lot of the things that happens aren’t sam and dean’s fault - but they still blame them for it. doesn’t make it easier how sam or dean sometimes start crap on purpose to save the other

the winchesters are terrifying and people for sure tell stories about them, but not like ‘they’re heroes’, more like ‘they’re insane and dangerous. stay the fuck away from them’. some stories are true, like how they’ve worked with demons, but some are just game of telephone. (dean has apparently a ghost he is frequently possessed by while sam is actually a mutant vampire). hunters hate and are scared of the winchesters. sam and dean are never invited to hunter stuff (burials, memorials etc) but crash them nonetheless even though the hunters do NOT want them there.

you know what drives me insane when i think about it? how some characters in spn already are their hbo spn counterparts; john. mary. adam. maybe kevin?

other things that already are their hbo spn counterparts: dean throwing away the amulet right in front of sam. eyes burning when angels are seen. how ghosts are just tragedies, stuck in a loop they can’t leave. how a lot of the monsters they meet are just victims or their circumstances or the first victim of a curse. the impala being sam and dean’s home. dean not knowing how to comfort sam when he’s upset other than trying to do things for sam that usually brings dean comfort (driving the impala, listening to rock music etc). the roadhouse. heaven being an eternal version of the memories that made you the happiest even though it’s not real. sam wanting independence and freedom but never fully having it. dean fearing being alone more than anything else and that’s where he always ends up. sam has an eating disorder after the demon blood and dean has an alcohol problem he refuses to see as a problem. dean saying “i’d do it again” without an ounce of regret and pouring himself a drink when sam tells him it was fucked up to lie to him about gadreel

the demon/angel hybrid: THIS could be sooo interesting to explore. an angel and demon hybrid are you kidding me?? not to toot my own horn too much but i’m so clever. i should write this story myself. SO. does this creature have parents who fucked in their vessels or was this an experiment by god (yes i love the ‘mad scientist’ idea, that really should’ve been played up way more) or did a pre-existing creature (human or otherwise) drink demon blood and angel grace at the same time so that it created itself? so much potential for some really intriguing storytelling and character exploration - not only the creature itself and what they would be like, but also for the people around; sam, dean, castiel, jack etc. how would they react to this thing that is the very definition of defying heaven and hell and all the natural laws? does it exist before the show starts or will we see its birth?

the powers of the demon/angel hybrid would be tricky; a mix of holy and defiant, grotesque and beautiful. unconsciously forces people to tell the truth when talking to them. poisons whatever they touch. eyes of a demon, wings of an angel. can smite but skin will burn when touching iron. can do deals but will require a sacrifice in return, not a soul, usually a body part taken then and there (the hybrid eats it. it favours eyeballs and the liver - angels like raw meat). lights always flicker. makes things explode when angry (esp people and cars). can manipulate feelings, thoughts and memories. can travel to both heaven and hell, not welcome in either places. + standard stuff like telekinesis, teleportation, mind reading, super strength etc.

sam and dean’s wardrobe are pretty much the same; whatever’s cheap and not covered in blood. however, they do have stylistic differences. sam thinks graphic tees are funny, dean uses whatever’s black combined with john’s leather jacket. their wardrobe melds as they stop thinking of themselves as individuals and more of “me and my brother,”. their clothes are tattered and torn to shreds all the time. hand me downs, hand me ups. when they stray off their “path” and do things that are the crux of a storyline/character arc, this would reflect in their clothes. when sam is with ruby and becomes more and more “evil” he wears more and more red, a colour he has stated in the past he doesn’t really like. when dean is dead, sam starts to wear his rings and john’s and dean’s leather jacket. when dean decides he’s going to say yes to michael he dresses in white, when sam is dead dean takes off every piece of jewelry except the amulet. he holds it clenched in his fists when he’s whispering what comes close to a prayer

logically the amulet should have a backstory but you know what? i love that it’s hinted to be just a piece of cheap jewelry sam found in a thrift store he decided to give to dean. but narratively it should be explained so... idk. what could be logical solution as to why it would react to GOD himself? maybe god wore it once cuz he thought it was neat but he sold it for three dollars because he wanted coffee and then sam found it a week later

i would prefer it if god didn’t show up at all (absent father number one) but if he DID he’s not all powerful just a true neutral (like death, 100% objective) who created a thing that just took a life of its own, much like a parent and a child - the parent helps the child but can’t control it. the times he did intervene or tried to do something it didn’t really have any real long lasting effect so he gave up on trying a while ago.

@spneveryseason talked about this, how the storyline of sam being possessed by gadreel would be horrifying if we saw everything from sam’s perspective instead of dean’s (her fic is wonderful). in the ‘dean slowly descends into a righteous murderer to become holy’ idea i have this tracks so damn well because again, if dean believes something is right, it is right, no questions about it. everyone around him is like “that’s really fucked up and you should make amends” but dean doesn’t see any reasons for why - sam is alive isn’t he? and seeing it from sam’s pov would really underline how horrifying, dehumanizing and belittling that experience was

john and mary are adam and eve. sam and dean are cain and abel are michael and lucifer. time is a flat circle. history never stops repeating itself.

sam is the villain of s4. he is manipulated and key information is withheld from him but in the end... would it made a difference? it crossed his mind, that he could be tricked because ruby is a demon after all, but maybe he likes the power, the feeling of freedom, that he wasn’t just the baby, the one who always needs permission to do things. if he has to drain possessed people to get that power... so be it. and it’s for a good purpose, until it isn’t. he’s hungry for more, to be feared and respected. he’s enticed by lucifer’s sweet words, the potential of all that power and the idea of ruling two out of three realms. dean manages to pull him back from the brink because sam decides he doesn’t want to be what john thought he was and fail dean and himself like that.

dean is the villain in s9. he is controlling, the mark of cain without the mark. what he says goes - it’s not a democracy, it’s a dictatorship. he doesn’t see how much pain, doubt and fear he causes the people around him. if some victims or civilians die on his watch that doesn’t matter - just some collateral damage. sam can’t make dean listen to him because dean is the older one, the one who’s always called the shots. dean is the angelic one, heaven’s chosen warrior, he is untouchable and unkillable. he’s is an excellent killer, filling the void with blood and rage which is better than the crippling fear of loneliness carved into his bones. 'i butcher for love, to protect,’ he tells himself. ‘why shouldn’t i exterminate, regardless of the cost? i’ve followed the rules, i’ve always sacrificed. now i call the shots. it’s my right.’

sam’s hell trauma is never magically removed. he’s stuck with the memories and the nightmares and the occasional hallucinations. castiel can’t do anything but offers to wipe his memory completely, but sam says no, he is still doing penance.

after dean comes back from hell he starts calling himself old man and jokes a lot about he’s 40 years older now (after he’s more comfortable about speaking about hell)

when sam comes back he feels ancient (he’s over 900 years old at least but he lost count), weary, tired and so so so out of place in this world. he’s forgotten how to put gas in a car, how to drive, how to use a credit card, all the song lyrics he and dean used to yell together, the faces of people he knew before he fell, the softness of a bed, the schools he went to, most of the hunts he and dean, how john died, who mary is, the initials carved into the impala, the taste of food that isn’t raw meat. it’s so much he’s forgotten that he has to relearn. he prefers figuring things out with castiel instead of dean because castiel doesn’t silently resent him for everything he’s forgotten

sam doesn’t laugh anymore. despite dean’s many and castiel’s few awkward attempts, it’s more like quick smile and a quiet “hmm”. on some days he recoils when he sees blood and guts, on other days he’s so apathetic it’s unnerving

sam sympathizes with the brought back mary and castiel more than ever. dean tries to get sam to remember things he’s forgotten from his childhood but sam can’t connect with it anymore. he stopped being that sam a long time ago. dean doesn’t know what else to do than try to force this connection to be revitalized and he fails. sam isn’t that person anymore and this wedge in their relationship becomes a central factor in dean’s s6-10 desperation and isolation. sam is here and safe but it’s not really sam, not the sam dean grew up with

while sam has forgotten how to make coffee, he now knows everything about angels, effective torture tricks, a bunch of lore + biblical history, how to navigate hell, the most powerful and influential demons, rare and powerful spells as well as perfect enochian (he will speak enochian without realizing and it feels more natural than english). lucifer and michael were surprisingly talkative (raging about the unfairness) when taking their anger and hatred out on sam and adam and each other. sam had access to all of lucifer’s memories and knowledge for the time he was the one in control. walking library and encyclopedia of biblical lore.

he still has some muscle memory from hunting and sparring, but sam is ghostly thin and very rusty. even though he’s an expert on lore, he’s not fit to go on hunts anymore and he knows it.

sam remembers adam and swears he’ll try to get him out, but he can’t. just thinking about the cage makes him vomit. he can’t talk about it, much less go near it. after a while sam thinks it might be better to let adam stay down there than let him come back up and feel this crushing emptiness and loss of direction

sam’s trials take place in s9 instead of 8; coinciding with dean’s villain arc. for sam the trials are a chance to redeem himself again, this time for good by closing hellgates forever. they’re scrubbing him clean of the demon blood and his sins and they give him a sense of purpose again now that he can’t join hunts anymore. it doesn’t matter if he dies because of it. it would be nice with a permanent and peaceful death that did something good. dean is taken aback by sam’s devotion to repent for something that happened years ago and for something sam has already paid for a thousand times over. dean realizes how messed up he himself has become and how he’s helped put sam here, on the cusp of self sacrifice again because of sickening guilt and self hatred. dean begs sam to not complete the trials at the cost of his own life and swears he’ll better himself, be a friend and a brother, not a jailer, dictator or a murderer. ‘if you won’t give yourself or life another chance, please give me one.’ ---> s10 pacifist dean learning to let go of the control, the violent tendencies and the rage

oh wait what if gadreel still possessed sam after the trials to heal him but sam is the one who invites the angel in? he’ll keep his promise to dean about staying alive, as well as heal from the inside and have breaks from the world when he doesn’t want to be present, like he and gadreel will alternate being the one in control. he keeps it a secret from dean and helps gadreel imitate him so dean won’t notice. it’s not so bad, being possessed by this angel - sam can say no anytime and gadreel is a nice guy. since they alternate on who’s present they can access each other’s memories, which is terrifying and embarrassing at first, but since gadreel and sam have been tricked and used by lucifer and been punished for it for far too long, they understand each other. now another creature knows their trauma and terrors without the need for verbal explanation. also having an angel residing in his body makes sam feel like he can hunt properly again because gadreel can heal him and take over in situations sam’s overpowered. this could show how messed up sam has come to view himself and his body.

dean is conflicted when he finds out; sam lied but gadreel does help sam heal, sam’s traumatized and his self-worth is fucked up and dean has contributed to that. dean convinces sam to push gadreel out, that sam is still valuable, loved and a good person who shouldn’t be in a place where he views his body and mind like a property to be occupied. sam’s faith begins to come back bit by bit, not in god, but in himself, his brother, in the good things in life. they build their little family; sam, dean, castiel, the hybrids, whomever of their allies that are alive at this point.

castiel can heal sam and dean’s wounds but they are never completely gone; they leave scars and phantom pains. the brothers have SO many scars over the years. dean flaunts them to impress people because he likes the questions and the fearful admiration, the attention and the nods of approval. sam hides them.

when dean is in a bad mood or needs to get his mind off of things, sam just drops something like ‘i don’t get the deal with led zeppelin. one of the most overrated bands of all time’ and dean will go OFF every single time about the entire led zeppelin history, their discography and how they’ve shaped rock music. this will go on for hours and sam will zone out after 1 minute. but dean rants nonsensically the entire drive and it does get him to think about something else for a little bit. they stop at a motel and dean is STILL ranting while brushing his teeth. stops when going to sleep but without fail picks up where he left off the morning after and is so into it he doesn’t notice sam not paying attention at all. we could see this once in s1 when they’re searching for john, another in s3 when dean is anxious about his deal coming to an end and then again in a later season, when sam doesn’t remember to ask/doesn’t have the patience or mental capability, so they’ll sit there in tense silence, showing how much they’ve changed.

---> i can see this SO clearly in my head, how they’ll get in the car and we, the audience, will recognize the camera angle, the same lines and dean’s grumpy mood, and we’ll anticipate what comes next. but sam isn’t that kid anymore and he’s not peeking at dean to gauge what his mood is and how much of a shit eating grin he should wear when being an annoying little brother to cheer dean up. now he’s looking out the window, leaned back, they’re not looking at each other. this shot is a minute or two long, uninterrupted. dean turns on music but neither are singing along or doing anything to lighten the mood.

s1-5: sam gets hooked on demon blood, dean has an alcohol problem. when sam goes through withdrawals, dean decides to quit drinking and joins him because he wants to be supportive, and he realizes that when he drinks two beers for breakfast there’s a problem

s6-10: sam takes painkillers, anti depressants and anti psyhosis meds to numb himself from the phantom pains and reduce post-cage effects. dean started drinking again after sam jumped and still does, but started smoking in addition because he still drives a lot and doesn’t want to die in something as pathetic as a car crash.

there a scene in an episode in the first half of s8, when sam has decided to stay with dean instead of amelia, and dean has rejected benny in favor of sam, and then the brothers sit in a couch watching tv while drinking beer and neither of them look particularly happy about it - that’s how their relationship is a lot of the time. they know they’re fucked up and neither of them will ever be truly happy when the other’s around, but they owe each other so much and they don’t have to explain themselves to each other the way they do to others. they know each other so well, each other’s traumas and the things they’ve done, it feels fake and exhausting to try to be something other than the veteran hunters they are. misery loves company; they are miserable together but would be far more miserable apart and living a normal life. they do love each other, but neither of them are particularly happy as the show progresses. family is hell and so is the lack of it.

OK OK i mentioned it in part one, how i had my own very specific idea about how jack should come to be and here it is. long winded but (might just write a damn fic):

after lucifer was cast back into the cage, he is stronger than he has been in a long time (being in his true vessel helped him stretched muscles he forgot he had. and fresh air.) sam is pulled out of the cage and it leaves a rift in the magic and chains - the binding is weaker and lucifer must act fast to get out before it heals. the cage is still strong enough to hold two archangels, so lucifer has to become weaker somehow to slip out through the cracks. he can’t get out of the cage, but souls can come in. demons bring themselves and human souls as tools for lucifer to use. there’s not much he can do here - consuming them, eating them, touching them, dissecting them doesn’t give him what he wants

eventually lucifer realizes he must do like azazel and create something new of two halves, like when he created demons. he begins melding his archangel grace with a human soul. he tries with demons, but his archangel grace automatically purifies them and leaves them too weak. he must try with a human soul who is good. he finds the soul of kelly kline, who sold her soul to save a loved one. with her, the merging, works.

he has another self, a twin, a son, who’s half human and half archangel. half lucifer. the old lucifer will die but that’s ok, his desires, presence and self will live on in his new creation. the new lucifer barely makes it out of the cage, only able to due to its human side. on earth it creates a body for itself and takes shape, no longer a form of pure power and energy akin to the sun itself but now a person, reminiscent of kelly kline on earth and lucifer in heaven. they name themselves jack. jack searches for familiarity and finds it in sam, their old self’s perfect tool and another hybrid. jack finds a mentor in castiel, a younger brother and fellow angel with human elements. they do not find anything in dean, the key to his former self’s doom.

jack’s powers: their powers are like and unlike the angels because he is half archangel. jack has wings but sometimes they don’t work, or they’ll end up somewhere else entirely. their body is their own, not a vessel, so jack can’t possess people. doesn’t talk but people “know” what they’re saying or want because jack emits their emotions and thoughts to people they’re talking to like a radio tower. jack can also have this empathic connection and communication with animals. his mood affects the weather. immortal. reads minds. can remove a soul from a body and send it to heaven/hell by touching it, with practice they don’t need to touch a body.

other stuff about jack: the human/archangel nature means jack only need sleep and food once a week or so. eats only nougat and raw meat. because jack is a kid they nap a lot. levitates when sleeping. never blinks, stares intensely at everything. their eye colour changes based on their mood. eyes glow in the dark. normal humans who look at jack for too long experience memory loss, fainting spells or migraines and eye contact for more than 10 seconds give vivid hallucinations of their worst nightmares. always barefoot, often floats like 10 cm off the ground because they find it more enjoyable than walking. wears the wildest clothes they can find, nothing matches and nothing is weather appropriate

i have a very specific image of jack in my mind; they look like delirium from the sandman comics with the hair that looks like it’s underwater and the fishes floating around their head, here and here are examples. in live action this would look not good or maybe even ridiculous for sure but in animation... endless potential for angels and monsters to have super interesting designs sigh

castiel’s arc should end with him going from blind soldier, to the unwilling ruler of heaven, finding a place on earth with sam and dean, becoming closer with humanity and eventually a father of three (the hybrids).

#hbo spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #iben spoke #ok i'm tired of looking at this now #i just needed to get these thoughts out of my head to get some peace and quiet #more character centric than part 1 #and it turned into such a long post.... jesus #i should make a separate post for post cage sam headcanons #ana if you see this i'm so sorry to drag you into this mess but i wanted to give credit where credit is due

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years ago

Text

Becoming A Stark (8)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Word Count: 2390

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: No Peter in this chapter, but he’ll be in the next few. Promise.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

Your dad hasn’t been home in 48 hours but, according to Pepper, he somehow had time to go to MIT, spend the night at the compound and then fly to Berlin. It took less than a week for him to go back on what he had said and to be honest you were a bit passed pissed about it. Pepper had decided to order dinner for you both and had said Tony could figure something else out whenever he got home. If you were a betting woman, you bet that Pepper ordered some extra Thai food for him though. You, on the other hand, had decided to work on homework while waiting for food to arrive. But not even your English homework could hold your attention it seemed. Tony has managed to take the joy your favorite class normally brings you, because all you can think about is how pissed you are.

It also didn’t help that the tower was freezing, but you didn’t feel like telling FRIDAY to turn the temperature up. So instead you go digging through your drawers to find a sweatshirt to help warm you up. It wasn’t until you find a black one with words that really suit your mood. ‘No. I Checked My Receipts. I Don’t Buy Any Of Your Bullshit.’ Even though AC/DC’s Highway to Hell is blasting over your speakers, a knock on your door tells you that someone isn’t going to leave you alone.

“Hey there kiddo.” Even his voice irritates you right now. Instead of greeting him, you turn back towards your English assignment and continue typing. “Wow, two days away and I get the cold shoulder.”

“FRIDAY turn music up by 25%.” You say, trying to block him out.

“FRIDAY, music off.” You huff at the fact that his commands override yours. But decide to play it sweet instead of sour.

“Did you need something?” You turn in your chair and paste a fake smile on your face.

“I know I was gone the past two days. I let you down. But I came and saw you before I even went looking for Pepper.”

“I don’t care.” But then you see the bruise on his face and you can’t pretend anything. “What happened to your face?”

“Ex-assassin under some brainwashing. Long story.” So he’s still going to keep things from you?

“Was this while you were in Berlin? Missing family dinner again?” You know you sound like the stereotypical teenager that you usually try to shy away from, but you can’t help it.

“I fucked up. I know. And honestly, according to people other than you I fucked up in more ways than you can count. But I’m here for tonight’s dinner. I even pushed a trip to Germany to be here for it.” Tony sits down on your bed.

“Wow, I came before Germany. Not before Berlin though.” You throw your hands outward as your head moves from side to side.

“You do come before Berlin. I was hoping to make it home before I missed another dinner because I didn’t want to disappoint you again. I’m not good at saying it, but I’m sorry. I missed you the whole time I was gone.” His eyes read your sweatshirt and then looks back at your face. “That’s at me isn’t it?”

“Kind of.” You admit. “You did say ‘I would drop anything and everything for you’ and a week later I’m having dinner by myself and then finding out that Natasha’s in building’s that are being bombed and I don’t even know where you are and I was hurt by it.”

“You’re allowed to be hurt by it. I’m trying to be better, but that doesn’t mean I won’t fuck up occasionally. I wasn’t in Vienna, but I’ve seen Nat and she’s fine. Saw her in Berlin earlier.”

“Don’t tell me she has one of those too.” You motion towards his eye.

“She’s fine. She’s also an ex-assassin, remember? They tend to be pretty good at fighting other ex-assassins.”

“Good.”

“Now, dinner? Last I checked you were trending downward, so it’s a perfect time for dinner.”

“Has dinner been delivered?”

“It arrived when I did. Come on.” Tony offers an arm to you and you sink into his side hug as you walk downstairs with him. Pepper smiles at the two of you as she unboxes the Thai food that had been delivered.

“You two all good now?” She asks as she sets the food on the table. You nod. “Good. Now dinner is served.” You sit down and start eating your pineapple fried rice and tofu as Pepper and Tony talk about some SI stuff.

“You know Y/N, I talked to a boy from your school today.”

“Really, why?”

“Possible intern.

“Uh, ok. Guess that makes sense. But do you even work at the lab at SI that much really?”

“He might end up being my personal intern here or at the Avenger’s Compound.”

“Really? Do I know him?”

“He knows you.” You can’t help but cock your head to the side as you take a bite of food. “Name’s Peter Parker. Talked about you quite a bit. Especially how you skipped out of class today.”

“I had a good reason. You see your family members' names in tweets with the word bomb and you would skip out of class too. I was going to call you too, but Natasha told me you weren’t there.”

“Well he told me so much about you that it makes me wonder if I need to start laying down some ground rules for you and dating.”

“Pepper, make him stop!” You plead as you use your chopsticks to scoop up more food.

“Tony.” She warns from the other side of the table.

“No, this is my little girl. I’m allowed to be protective about this aspect. Dating and evil villains are my prerogative.”

“I’m not little. I’m fourteen. I’ve already gone on my first date.” Tony chokes on the water he was drinking.

“I’m sorry. Maybe I misunderstood you, but I thought I heard you say you already went on your first date.”

“I did. I already had my first boyfriend and girlfriend too.” You wait to see a reaction from either Pepper or Tony, but nothing happens.

“No more dating until you're 25, at least. I forbid it. I don’t care who they are. No one is good enough for you!” Tony says before angrily eating his food.

“He’ll lighten up eventually.” Pepper says with a smile.

“Or he’ll have FRIDAY lock me in my room until I’m 25.” You say with an eye roll.

“Don’t give him any ideas.” Pepper teases.

“I’m not completely unreasonable. I would just lock her in the tower.” Tony teases back.

“I’ll text the Avengers to come save me.” You watch as your dad’s face grows darker. “What’s going on with the Avengers?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He says, not really answering the question.

“I can call Natasha and ask.”

“Natasha is busy and I don’t think you should bother her.” Based off of the conversation you had with her earlier today, you can guess that’s probably actually true. “Besides, don’t you want to see your old man before he leaves tomorrow?”

“Why are you leaving?”

“Official Avengers business.”

“Weren’t you just on official Avengers business?”

“Yes and sometimes the Avengers business is nonstop.” You glance over at Pepper and see a look of almost exasperation on her face. Apparently this isn’t the first time for her hearing this argument.

“When will you be back?”

“Hopefully, tomorrow night. But if not the day after at the latest.” Tony wants to promise that he’ll be back for dinner tomorrow night, but even with quinjet, he doesn’t think he can make it back in time.

You walk back into the kitchen later, not expecting to find anyone. You just want a glass of water and then you’ll head to bed. “What are you wearing?” Your dad’s voice startles you.

“What are you doing up still?”

“Shouldn’t I ask you the same thing? One of us has school tomorrow, and it’s not me.”

“I was thirsty. Came to get water.” You shrug. “What do you mean what am I wearing?” You glance down at the shorts and tank top you had thrown on to go to sleep.

“You’re Iron Man?” He questions, looking over the wording on the grey tank. You glance down and finally realize what shirt you had put on to sleep in.

“Pepper found it when we were thrifting before school started. She thought it was funny.”

“Definitely is kiddo. Now water?” He asks, already reaching in the cupboard for a glass. Stepping into his favorite role, he gets you your water and walks up the stairs with you to your room.

“You don’t have to come tuck me in. I’m fourteen.”

“Humor me.” He says, following you into your room. You set the glass on your bedside table and climb under the covers. Tony pulls them around you and tucks you in. “Goodnight kiddo. I love you.”

“Love you too Dad.” He kisses your forehead before heading towards his own room. He can’t help but smile as he thinks about you wearing something that reps him.

“What’s got you all smiley?” Pepper asks, setting down her Stark Pad.

“Well seeing as you got her the shirt, I guess you did.” Pepper’s eyebrows furrow as she tries to understand what Tony is talking about. “The Iron Man tank top? Y/N wore it to sleep in and... I just love her so much Pep.” Pepper smiles but reaches for her phone.

“You want to see something better?” She asks as she sends Tony a picture. He glances at his phone before making a double take. “Completely her idea on the pose.”

“This is the best thing ever. I have the best kid.” Tony says. He slips under the covers to lay down next to Pepper, but can’t help but look at the picture again. Fuck it. He logs onto Instagram. Caption- I have the best kid ever. Nothing else and then posts the photo after tagging you. After posting it, he flips over to your Instagram. He notices you have changed your bio to no longer show your old last name, but it doesn’t read Stark. He scrolls through some photos that you and your friends must have taken at lunch the other day as well as some pictures of some recent reads. You really plow through books fast. Maybe he should look at signing you up for one of those book subscription boxes that you get new books every month. You’d probably like that. He likes the newer photos that he hadn’t liked yet, before clicking his phone off. He pulls Pepper into his arms and lets sleep pull him under.

When you wake up the next morning, you see your notifications have blown up over night. You have hundreds of thousands of new followers on both Instagram and Twitter. There’s also a bunch of comments. What happened? You had been sitting at a few hundred followers when you went to bed, and most of them were friends or people you knew from school. So what happened after you went to sleep. You click open Instagram and look at notifications. It’s too cluttered for you to find anything. So instead you click to your profile to see if one of your book photos went viral? That’s the only thing you could think of that would do this. But then you see the notification that you’ve apparently been tagged in a photo. Flipping pages, you see that your father made the dumbest mistake yet. You grab your phone and walk towards your dad and Pepper’s room, knowing that they’re probably up but not yet out of their room. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the situation as you knock on the door.

“Come in.” Pepper calls from inside the room. As you walk in, you see her putting on jewelry, getting ready for her day at SI. Your dad is still laying in bed on the other hand. “Good morning Y/N.”

“Is it a good morning? Because someone in this family is an idiot.” You say looking at your dad.

“What did I do?” He asks, glancing up from his datapad as he keeps working with the design that he’ll need to work on when he gets back from Germany.

“You tagged me on Instagram. My private account now has a few hundred thousand followers and people have found me on Twitter too.” Pepper turns from where she stands in the mirror.

“I thought we were trying to keep her name out of the press?” She asks, looking at Tony.

“Ok, so I didn’t completely think this through. But it was so cute I couldn’t not share it.”

“That’s not the point Tony. The whole world knows who your daughter is.”

“They already did.” Tony counters.

“No they knew you had a daughter. But her name and her face were mainly out of the picture.” Pepper takes a deep breath. “Guess I know what my day will be focused on.”

“I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.” Tony says pushing off from the mattress. He wants to hug both females that are upset with him but doesn’t know which to go after first. You, definitely you. “Kiddo, I just had to share with the world how much I loved you. I didn’t think what tagging you would do. I’m sorry.” He pulls you into his arms. “Forgive me?” He asks.

“Yeah I guess so. Except that now everyone knows for sure that I’m related to you.”

“I’ll up security if I have to. You’ll remain safe. I promise you that.” He says into your hair. “I do have to steal Happy from you for the next few days. He’ll take you to school today, but one of the other security people will pick you up. I’ll have Happy text you who it will be after we know for sure.”

“Fine, if you have too.” You step out of your dad’s arms. “I have to go get ready for school. Try not to expose anything else about me online while I do that ok?” You tease him.

“Cross my heart.” He promises.

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

Becoming A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway @iamaunicorn4704 @furiouspockettoad @daughter-of-stark @eternalharry @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan

#peter parker #peter parker fan fic #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker fan fiction #peter parker fanfiction #Tony Stark #tony stark can't be dead if you just don't let yourself believe it #tony stark daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x daughter!you #Pepper Potts #peter parker imagine #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #imanativeofswlondondahling #becoming a stark?

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rebeebit · 3 years ago

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So, your parents are getting old.

TL;DR

Stuff: start cleaning out stuff they don’t need now. You might read “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning” as a guide.

Where to live: research retirement and assisted living options in your parents’ area.

Medical considerations: HIPPA authorization, advanced directives, long term care insurance

Financial considerations: accounts, power of attorney and trusts

Dementia: what to remember when your parents forget.

So, your parents are getting old.

Most of us have parents. Many, if not most, of us will be supporting them somehow as they age. And I read somewhere that most people are not happy with how their parents have prepared for aging (I’d cite it, but I ran across that statistic a couple of months ago and ... you’ll have to take my word for it). I’ve been observing my parents as they age for a while, and in the past two years, my sister and I have become very active in the process of making sure they are safe and cared for. I decided to write a guide to help all of my friends who have parents so maybe you can avoid some of the mistakes my parents made. There are lots of resources out there, so this is by no means exhaustive, but I hope someone finds it useful!

STUFF

This is the easiest way to start, it doesn’t require uncomfortable conversations or lengthy phone calls, but could instead be an opportunity to reminisce and connect with your parents. If your parents have lived in their house for any length of time, they’ve probably amassed some STUFF. My folks lived in their house for 43 years, and they abhorred wastefulness. They also had loads of room for storage - you can imagine how much stuff they accumulated after 43 years! My mistake: I didn’t reclaim items I wanted over the years to the degree that I could have, and had to scramble to get the things I wanted when the time came to move my parents out of their house. So here are some ideas.

Your parents might feel strongly about passing on certain items - find out what these are if you don’t already know. Then you could suggest they give them to you for your birthday or another holiday. This way they get the satisfaction of knowing you have their special belongings while they’re still alive.

Did you leave your stuff at their house when you moved out, and you just never got around to getting it? That’s on YOU! Get it now, or get rid of it, if possible!

As you’re going through your stuff, you might “accidentally” run across items your parents don’t use anymore. Help them by donating these items or throwing them away.

The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning by Margareta Magnusson is an excellent guide to this process, and a quick read. Read it, and if possible, suggest that your parents read it.

We were able to move our parents’ photo albums, but they had boxes and boxes of unsorted photos and even slides. Encourage them to go through these old memories now and put them in albums - or better yet, digitize them. They won’t have room for all those boxes when they downsize.

If you wind up having to get rid of everything at once, like we did, there will undoubtedly be heartbreak as valued heirlooms get sent to the thrift shop (or the dumpster) and even loss of some income because you won’t have time to drag it to consignment shops. The more you deal with now, the happier everyone will be with the outcome.

WHERE TO LIVE

Aging in place seems like the best option for many people, but it can be quite costly. There’s no deadline by which your parents should move out of their house, and perhaps they never will. This is where you might have a conversation about the future with your parents: what do they envision for themselves, what do they want? This is a great way to phrase it, as it sends the message that you want to know their desires for aging, so you can meet their wishes as best you can. Regardless of what they say, you can do a little homework into options in their geographic area. We didn’t make too many mistakes in this area, but my parents weren’t willing to move in advance of it being a necessity, and then when it WAS necessary in the summer of 2020 … well, who would move their parents into communal living during a pandemic?

Several friends told me how important it is to move earlier rather than later, as it makes it easier to add levels of care as your parents age. Keep this in mind! Find out what is available, and make sure options for living include assisted living, skilled nursing, AND memory care. The last two are not interchangeable: memory care is very specific for dementia patients. If you have time, take a tour of a few places to get an idea of what life might be like for your parents there.

The move to assisted living was very important for our mother. Our father was hospitalized 15 or more times in the past year, and two of those included multiweek stays in nursing rehab - in fact, he’s still there now, and it’s been over 11 weeks (as of 7.24.21). The time alone in the house was difficult for my mother, and she will benefit from routines, social interaction, and 3 meals a day that she doesn’t have to cook for herself ... among other benefits! Moving was so hard for them to contemplate because they didn’t want to leave their community - which is very understandable - but moving gets much more difficult as your parents age, and in my mom’s case, as her dementia has progressed.

MEDICAL CONSIDERATIONS

Helping your parents navigate the healthcare system is difficult. I won’t claim to be an expert in this at all, but will at least tell you what I’ve encountered.

RIGHT NOW: find out if your parents have long-term care insurance. If one or both of your parents has a lengthy stay in the hospital/nursing home, Medicare will eventually STOP covering them, even if they need skilled nursing or memory care. This will easily start costing $350/day, which is $100,000/year. Long-term care will kick in after 90 days in hospital/nursing/memory care, and will cover most, if not all, of the costs.

You will eventually need HIPAA authorization with your parents’ doctors. This allows the doctor to talk freely to you about your parents’ health. Without it, the doctor can listen to your concerns, but they cannot share information. My mother was reluctant to give this to us, but when she finally did, we were able to get her evaluated for dementia and take away her car keys.

If you live close enough to go to doctor appointments with your parents, find a way to do this. When my father returned from one of his earlier but more serious hospitalizations, I requested to join him at his follow-up appointment so I could hear what the doctor had to say and ask my own questions. My father is a reasonable guy and allowed this, and it was really helpful.

Advanced Directives are their medical wishes about resuscitation. It’s a morbid conversation, and you may not want to discuss the details with them, but you should make sure they have their wishes in place.

While you’re on morbid topics, make sure you know their wishes regarding funeral and memorial services and burial arrangements. Some people even want input into their own obituaries. We knew both my parents wanted to be cremated (and where they wanted us to scatter the ashes), but we were surprised to learn my dad did not want any services. Good thing we asked!

FINANCIAL CONSIDERATIONS

For your peace of mind, you will want to know what the state of your parents’ finances is, and you will likely need to manage these finances at some point. Here is what I learned about this realm of the aging process:

Set up autopay for as many bills as you can for them, if they haven’t done so already. As my father’s health situation became more overwhelming, bills got overlooked and they started having to pay late fees. This is an easy step that you can do now and avoid the hassle later.

Suggest your parents simplify things. Do they have multiple credit cards, or multiple bank accounts? Suggest that they consolidate. Again, life gets more complicated with aging, and it becomes harder to manage. Trying to keep track of multiple accounts will be a headache for them, and they could make costly mistakes.

Make sure your parents have designated beneficiaries for all accounts. Apparently the probate process after a person dies is lengthy and annoying, and not something you’ll want to have to deal with on top of your grief when your parents pass away. On active accounts, like checking or savings accounts, try to get your name put on the account. This will help you with managing their finances when the time comes. Banks will literally not talk to you if you are not the account owner or don’t have POA.

Power of Attorney. This document WILL have to be signed, and you will want to discuss with your parents when, not if, they want to do this. The sooner the better. Sign it and scan it, and save it on your phone. This way you can email it to whoever needs it immediately so you can manage all of your parents’ affairs. I needed POA to cancel their phone service, sell their house, sell their car ... you name it.

Finally, if their finances are looking good, read on. Talk to your parents about putting their assets in a trust, especially if you have kids. If you’ve read this far, your parents probably want your kids (and you) to have something of their estate after they’re gone, but they can’t leave anything behind if they haven’t protected their assets. Medical care is expensive, and Medicaid will not kick in until you have only about $1,500 to your name, so protecting assets is important for some people. I don’t know much about this process, but if it is a concern for your parents, encourage them to reach out to their lawyer and financial advisor to take care of this.

DEMENTIA

My mother’s dementia has been the most challenging part for my sister and me over the past several years, but if you think this is in your future, it doesn’t have to be. As a society we’ve gotten better at talking about mental health, and that should also extend to dementia. As with any other health problem, early detection and intervention will lead to better outcomes. In my mother’s case, we attempted to intervene in 2017 but were unsuccessful. My mother was finally diagnosed in January 2021, but at this point she had progressed to mild dementia, and has been unable to process or accept the diagnosis. This has caused her to have worse anxiety because she’s upset about forgetting things, and fewer coping skills because she doesn’t recognize what is wrong with her. While early intervention may not prolong the life of your parent by much, it will lead to better quality of life - which is why you have read this far in the first place, you want your parents to be safe and cared for!

A primary care doctor will do a preliminary screening for dementia, so it is important for this screening to be on your parents’ radar as soon as possible. At this point, it is not automatically done at a certain age; you have to ask for it (which is idiotic, but that’s our health care system, so…). The screening will be important because it will hopefully give you peace of mind that any memory problems are age-related, and not a cause for concern. If not, it will allow the doctor to refer your parent to a specialist and get the appropriate interventions. While there is no cure for Alzheimer’s, there are some drugs that show promise, but also processing and accepting the diagnosis are important for implementing coping skills.

If your parents are diagnosed with dementia, there are loads of resources out there to help. It’s really hard for children to cope with this disease in their parents, as it’s the beginning of the role-reversal where YOU become the parent. Some tips that have resonated with me are that, in dementia, the brain still processes emotions normally, even if memories are starting to erode. So when you inevitably get impatient, frustrated, or even angry with your parent, keep this in mind: they won’t remember why you got angry, they will just remember how you made them feel. Depression and dementia go hand-in-hand because dementia patients get told so often “don’t you remember?” “I already told you that!” and so on. I am by no means perfect in how I handle my mother, but this tip has helped me find patience and calm.

If you’re like me, and you’ve seen both of your grandmothers and your mother decline due to dementia, you have more than a little concern about what the future holds for you. I recommend reading Remember by Lisa Genova (author of Still Alice). The book eased my anxiety about memory lapses I’ve noticed in myself, as lately I regard any lapse as a harbinger of dementia. She also has tips for improving your memory and for preventing Alzheimer’s - which my mother and likely my grandmother had. The number one tip? Sleep.

REACH OUT!!

I was fortunate to have many good friends lend their ears to me while I’ve been in the process with my parents, and several who have been through this and offered their advice and support as well. It was invaluable to have this support system, so I offer that to you. Please reach out if you have questions, want advice, or just want to vent about what you’re going through. If you like, add comments about your own experience below.

#aging parents #aging #dementia #assisted living #long term care

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suncityblues · 4 years ago

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Bad Luck and Sunshine

Part 1/5 - SPN - 3k words

read on AO3

He can fit all his worldly possessions on the passenger seat of his car.

Car keys, red bic lighter, a toothbrush in a ziplock bag. Cellphone, charger, brown faux leather wallet. A maxed out credit card with the name James Ledbetter on it, and a fake ID to match the card. Fourteen American dollars, one Canadian quarter, a Blimpie’s buy-one-get-one coupon.

A pen with the name of a bank on it, a tin of salt. A paperback with a four leaf clover carefully pressed into the pages between the title and the acknowledgments, and that’s it.

Castiel taps the book in the spot where the clover is pressed. He can feel the slight bump of it.

“They’re supposed to be good luck,” Dean had told him with a shrug when Cas asked why he was rooting around in the grass that day. Dean had handed Cas the book with the clover inside and said, “I used to search for them sometimes when I was a kid. It’s dumb but, hey, I figure we could use all the luck we can get.” Dean had smiled softly then, a bit sheepish. The tips of his ears had gone red.

Back then the world had been ending, so Cas supposed Dean was right, they could use luck.

He remembers trying to be encouraging, saying something about the placebo effect that made Dean roll his eyes and laugh at the same time. He can’t quite recall the specifics of it anymore.

A while later he had reached out to the clover with his grace and found nothing particularly special about it, but kept it and the book anyway. He reaches out again, now, with what little of his power he has left. It’s still just as lucky as any other dead plant.

He takes stock of his possessions again, focusing in particular on the fourteen American dollars and the one Canadian quarter. He checks how much gas he has left in his car and it’s not much. If he keeps going he’ll have to choose between food and gas, just to run out of it again anyway.

He needs to eat sometimes now, and drink water. He needs a shower and a bed if he can get them. Clothes, shoes, soap, toothpaste. All of it costs money, and to get money you have to trade time. Castiel has always found that a little ridiculous but it’s not like he makes the rules anymore.

He’s been pulled over in a dark parking lot in a truck stop town called Laurel for a while now thinking about what to do. Sam and Dean had set him up with the card and the fake ID before he left and Cas doesn’t want to ask them for any more help. He decides Laurel is as good a place as any other to get stuck in.

It’s 9:52 on a Tuesday.

A day and a half later Castiel is once again employed at a gas station. He’d tried a diner, a vegetable canning factory, a hardware store, and a rundown CVS but the gas station is the first place that got back to him. They were short staffed after someone named Ricky had walked out, and desperately needed a replacement. Kendra, the manager, had said “it’s like you were sent by an angel!” When she read through his mostly fictional work history. It had made Cas laugh.

This one is called Sunshine Gas and Go. They have to wear ugly yellow polo shirts that say “Let me know how I can help make your day sunny!” On the back. They keep the beer on the left side of the cooler bank instead of the right and the jerky next to the self-serve coffee but aside from that it’s remarkably similar to a Gas-N-Sip.

He wonders bleakly if he should have been the patron of gas stations while he had the ability.

The angel of Thursday, the angel of gas stations, that’s Cas. The guardian of the spaces you have to pass through on your way to better days, better places.

He sometimes wonders how Nora’s doing; if her kid’s okay.

It takes Sam and Dean five weeks to cave and check in on him. Cas has been in Laurel for the last three.

They pretend to be on their way back from a hunt, a totally routine salt and burn, and just so happen to be refueling at that particular gas station in this particular truck stop, exactly fifteen minutes after his coworker leaves Cas alone to cover the overnight shift. It’s an obvious and flimsy excuse to make sure he’s okay, but he’s known them long enough to understand that obviousness and flimsy excuses to see one another are gestures of affection in the Winchester family. He finds it somewhat exhausting to witness, and even more so to experience but he doesn’t call them out on it.

He does, however, make pointed eye contact with Sam who waves his hands in a placating gesture behind Dean’s back and excuses himself to go stare at the overpriced air fresheners on the other side of the store. He had hoped Sam, at least, would have had the sense to text first.

On the counter next to the cash register there’s a plastic bin with a picture of a bald child in a hospital bed taped to it and some loose change inside. Dean picks the can up, looks inside it, shakes it a bit, puts it down. It’s mostly empty.

“You’d think people’d be a little more generous, what with the cancer kid at stake and all,” he says. When Cas doesn’t immediately reply Dean continues, “Or is this one of those, uh, charity scams? You know, where the evil mega corporation asks you to pretty please donate so they can use it as a tax write off?”

Castiel shrugs, he doesn’t know what the Sunshine Gas and Go does with the money. Says: “I’m not sure, Dean.”

He pretends not to see Dean stick some gum from the display under the counter into his coat pocket. He’s watched Dean do this before to other casheers, leaning close to flirt and making off with what he can. Cas supposes old habits die hard. The gum is sugar free cinnamon.

Dean sees him pretending not to see. He smiles big and bright, his nose does a little crinkle that Cas always liked. The term “shit eating grin” comes to mind, Cas must have heard it somewhere, probably about Dean that time too. He rolls his eyes and says, “How was your hunt? Were you or Sam hurt at all?” He can’t do much besides heal minor cuts and bruises these days, but for the Winchesters he’d still offer what he can.

Dean waves him off, “Fine, fine, got shoved around a bit but it’s nothing a cold compress and a good night’s sleep can’t fix.”

“Speaking of,” Dean segues in a breezyl tone Castiel knows is dangerous territory, “Where are you sleeping these days? You gotta sleep now right?”

The ghost of Rexford sits heavy between them, though it’s been years since then. Cas realizes being back at a gas station might have caught Dean off guard, or felt like some kind of dig at him. He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s just bad luck, and he’s not sure Dean would believe him if he did.

This time around he’s not squatting in the back room with the cleaning chemicals but he is sleeping in his car, just until he has enough money for a place to stay or decides to hit the road again. He knows that’s not anything Dean wants to hear.

“Yes, Dean, I need to sleep” he answers, then pauses. He considers lying but it never works out when he does, and this isn’t life or death; just embarrassing.

Besides, Sam and Dean are observant and thorough even during a glorified social visit, so Cas figures they’d put two and two together as soon as they walked in the door. There’s no way they hadn’t clocked his too-big thrift store jeans under the uniform shirt, or the circles under his eyes. The way his beard is a little patchy from shaving in the bathroom mirror in the truck stop visitor center. It’s likely they’d found his car in it’s discreet parking space at the edge of the lot before coming into the Sunshine Gas and Go.

Cas tries tactful honesty: “I’m saving up.”

And it’s true, he is, though he’s not sure what he’s saving up for. But every Friday he gets a paycheck and brings it to the check cashing place in town. After the fee, and groceries, and little necessities he carefully stores what little he has left in the locked glove compartment of his car, under the book with the clover in it.

Dean’s lips press flat together. He stops leaning over the counter and stands at his full height. He makes an aborted head shaking gesture. He speaks like there’s an awful taste in his mouth.

“So,” he says, slightly too loudly to pay it off as cool. Out of the corner of his eye Castiel sees Sam’s head wip towards them, no longer pretending he’s not eavesdropping.

“So, ah—“ Dean repeats, “you’re gonna, what? Drift around? Lay low in some podunk shit hole for the rest of your life?“ he stops, puts his hands on the counter to steady himself, or to keep from reaching over and grabbing him, Cas isn’t sure. A beat.

“You know what?” Dean says, “Nevermind.”

Cas deflates. He knows Dean disagrees with him leaving so soon after becoming human again, and feels guilty about so many things it’s hard for Cas to keep track of them all, but he knows he couldn’t stay either. Just like lying to the Winchesters, it never works out in the end. With almost no power, he’s no help to anyone, not Sam and Dean, not heaven, not even himself. It hurts to think about but maybe that’s just part of being human.

“Dean—“ he starts to say but he’s cut off.

“Don’t worry about it, man” Dean says, he taps the counter twice with his knuckles, “nice place you got here. I’m glad you’re doing alright.”

Dean swallows and abruptly turns to leave, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. Cas watches him go until Sam comes to the counter with two bottles of water, a coffee, and an energy bar.

He puts a twenty down, says apologetically, “For this stuff and whatever Dean stole on his way out.”

“Gum,” Cas supplies, and slides the twenty back towards Sam. “Don’t worry about it,” he says.

The cameras don’t work inside the store, and according to Joanna, the only reason they’re still up at all is to deter would-be armed robbers. Castiel watches less deserving people steal from them all the time, so it doesn’t seem worth it to take Sam’s money.

Sam shakes his head and gives him a flat smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He takes his things but leaves the twenty. Says, “See you around, Cas.” He pauses for a moment, and seems to debate something with himself. Then: “Check in sometimes if you can, okay? You know how Dean can be when he gets worried.”

Castiel knows. He waves to Sam as he walks off into the dark.

Cas checks the gum display, then manually rings up the items Sam bought. He puts the change into the plastic jar with the kid in the hospital bed on it.

A few days later a woman comes in with a ghost behind her. Cas checks the time to keep from gaping. 11:27 AM.

The ghost is a man, perhaps in his mid forties. Too young to be dead, but Cas supposes most people feel that way when they die, no matter how old. When the woman comes to the counter and gives him thirty dollars to put on pump six he sees a wedding ring on a chain around her neck. He puts two and two together.

“That’s a lovely necklace” he says, he looks directly at the ghost when he says it. They make eye contact. The ghost does a sharp inhale for a moment and the lights flicker. The ghost disappears.

Cas frowns, “Sorry about that. It happens all the time,” he lies. He wonders if he could purify the ghost with what powers he has left, that way she wouldn’t have to burn her wedding ring.

The woman seems caught off guard, then smiles politely.

“No worries, it happens all the time at my house too. Must be a faulty power grid in this town or something, my kids swear it’s a ghost or something,” she says.

There’s an apprehensive edge to her voice then, hastily: “have a good one.”

“You too,” Cas says. He thinks about following her out, trying to explain. He thinks about texting Sam and Dean.

The slushie machine makes a mechanical crunching sound and suddenly there’s red goop all over the ground.

Joanna starts yelling and runs for the mop. He goes to unplug the machine and gets sticky pink syrup all over his last clean pair of pants. The ghost slips his mind.

Two days later Dean shows up by himself. It’s 6:43 in the morning on a Tuesday.

Cas has been finished with work for fifteen minutes already but there’s a rush at the end of his shift so he says on to help Javier and Kendra out. It’s mostly people stopping for gas on their way to work, or truckers picking up breakfast before heading back on the road. He doesn’t mind sticking around in the mornings, everyone’s usually too tired to be angry and it’s a nice break from the drunks and the sad eyed kids he usually meets on overnights. The extra money doesn’t hurt, either.

Cas doesn’t notice Dean until he’s placing two coffees on the counter in front of them.

His first words are a surprised, “Oh, hello Dean. Where’s Sam?” Which makes Dean huff, and shift from one foot to the other.

“Not here,” he says, then points at the coffee closest to Cas, “That one’s for you. Milk, no sugar still, right?” Cas nods. He knows this is Dean Speak for an apology. He can feel Javier and Kendra look over at them from behind the other register and the cigarette display, respectively.

Dean smiles, all charm but Cas can tell his face looks a little more drawn than usual, like he’d been driving for too long without a break, “You get off work soon?”

Kendra answers for him, “Yes, he does.” She has a maternal look on her face when Cas turns to her. Javier rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“Shoo,” she says, with a smile. She points at the slogan on his uniform shirt, “Go have a sunny day, James.”

Dean nods, “Yeah, James. Have a sunny day.” There’s that smile again.

Cas closes out his register and gets his coat from the back room. Dean’s waiting for him outside, drinking his coffee and leaning against the Impala. The lighting is the soft grey-blue of the morning, and it feels nice compared to the white fluorescents of the store.

Before Cas can say anything Dean scrubs at the back of his neck, then says, “This coffee tastes like piss. Let’s get breakfast.”

There’re a few diners in town but Cas has never been to any of them. Dean picks one on a whim, because the sign has a 1950’s pinup girl in a skimpy waitress uniform.

It’s warm inside and smells nice, like syrup and strong coffee. Dean orders something called The Lumberjack Platter and when Cas tells the waitress, “Just coffee, thanks” Dean overrides it and orders him scrambled eggs with a side of sausage and toast.

“My treat,” Dean says. Cas shakes his head but doesn’t fight him on it.

Dean avoids talking about anything personal. Instead they mostly chat about the case Sam and Dean are currently working on. Apparently they’ve hit a wall with the research and Sam’s been holed up at the bunker for days pouring over blueprints and hacked security footage. There’s a cursed object in a locked bank vault in Little Rock that’s making people have violent outbursts. The questions are: why did it start acting up now, which lock box it’s in, and how to get to it.

Cas wishes he could still fly, then at least he’d be able to solve two of their problems. He runs the idea of trying to find a spell to make the object useless by Dean and Dean types it into his phone to send to Sam. A moment later it lights up with a call but Dean mutes it and sticks the phone back in his pocket.

Dean changes subjects and tells him about the latest Dr. Sexy storyline, about a vampire nest he took out a few years back, about running into Garth in Topeka. Cas talks about the gas station a bit but mostly just listens. He always likes listening to Dean talk.

When they leave the diner and get back into the Impala, Cas realizes this is the first time he’s enjoyed himself in a long while. He smiles over at Dean, expecting to be asked where he’d like to be dropped off. He’s thinking about the park by the river on the far side of town, it’s a long walk back to the truck stop but he likes to watch the trees shift in the wind and the fresh air there is a nice change from diesel fumes. Instead Dean says, “You still don’t got a place to stay right?”

Cas nods cautiously. He puts his hand on Dean’s upper arm and, not willing to let the day go south, says sternly, “I assure you Dean, while I’m not strictly an angel anymore I still don’t need nearly as much rest as you or Sam do…”

Dean nods at the steering wheel, his jaw moving. Cas can tell he’s also trying to not turn this into a fight.

Dean shifts towards him, Cas keeps his hand firmly on Dean’s arm. The energy in the car changes and suddenly Cas realizes where this is going. Dean puts one hand on his waist and the other comes to rest on Cas’ neck behind his ear. Cas breathes in sharply.

“Dean,” he says, then he broaches the subject he’d been painstakingly avoiding all morning: “Why did you come here today?”

Dean blushes and goes still for a moment, he swallows but doesn’t say anything. After a moment tugs him in gently and Cas takes pity on him. Dean tastes like maple syrup.

It’d been a while since they’d done this, but they fall back into it easily. After a few moments of kissing Dean pulls back. Their foreheads and noses are still touching and they’re breathing hard.

“What I was trying to say was, uh,” his ears get red at the tips, “that I got a room at that Budget Motel by the gas station.”

All Cas can think of to reply is, “Oh, I’d like to see it.”

It makes Dean laugh and wiggle his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah wanna come up and see my art collection?” He says. Cas doesn’t know what he’s talking about but he likes that Dean keeps his hand on his thigh while they drive.

By the time Cas wakes up for his next shift Dean is gone. There’s a text on his phone that says Sam finally had his breakthrough based on something Cas had said. Then a second one that tells Cas the room is paid through till the end of the week. He can stay in it or not, doesn’t matter to Dean one way or the other. A third one that just says: Thanks.

Cas lays in bed for a moment enjoying the soft sheets and suddenly remembers the ghost.

++++++++++

Thanks for reading :)

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #Dean Winchester/Castiel #supernatural fanfic #my fic #dean winchester #castiel

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hargrove-mayfields · 4 years ago

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Headcanons Part Two!!!

My last headcanon post was all about Billy and Steve, but they won’t be the only ones showing up in my stories, so here’s some hcs for a few of the most recurring characters!

Starting with Max!!

My preferred middle name for Max is Nicole, because Maxine Nicole sounds pretty, but can double as being intimidating if someone was yelling at her. Also, she’s named after her aunt Nicole just because I can see Susan being like that.

Most important thing to know about Max in my writing is that she is ALWAYS autistic. I might not specify depending on the content of the story, but she is never ever ever meant to be allistic. I imagine her as being on a moderate support needs level, meaning for those who don’t know the term that she has highs and lows! There’s days where she can pass as allsitic and days where she can’t, and she maybe doesn’t need a lot of assistance in everyday life, but she still needs lots of stimming and has meltdowns and stuff!

Related to this fact is that in the 80s, autism was not a very common diagnosis at all, and so I don’t think she’d really have a word for it other than like, that just being the way she is. Because no one will give her the official diagnosis, Neil thinks she’s faking, so she gets told to stop stimming, isn’t treated fairly during a meltdown, told to “act normal” etc, etc, and she needs a lot of therapy in the future for it.

Her favorite ways to stim are rocking on her heels, humming, listening to loud noises (like sirens/car engines/lawn mowers, NOT things like music/Susan doing the dishes, those do the opposite) and dancing!

Her least favorite sensory things are raindrops touching her skin, her hair brushing her shoulders or her face, overwhelming smells (cologne, candles, food on the stove) and furniture that’s too firm! (like a memory foam mattress or a leather couch)

The first time she feels truly seen in the way she is is when Fraggle Rock starts airing in ‘82. Susan tells her to watch it because she thinks Max is still a baby no matter how old she is, but the minute she lays eyes on Wembley Fraggle she knows he’s like her. He stims vocally and with his hands, his friends don’t understand him, he’s empathetic, bad at choosing, gullible, and in every way just so much like her! Her and Billy have an inside joke where, if she’s putting something off or can’t make a decision, he’ll tell her to stop her Wemblin’ and sometimes he calls her Wembles without thinking!

There isn’t a lot of personalized furniture in the Hargrove-Mayfield, so I think it’s safe to say that she doesn’t really have any comfort items lying around. No favorite blankets or stuffed animals or toys of any kind, and I think because of that she clings to people. That’s why she is so insistent on getting in with the party, and why was so excited about having a brother in Runaway Max, because she relies on comfort people instead of objects.

She’s not very good at putting a name to her relationships. Like, she doesn’t really know how to describe how she feels about somebody, she just knows if she likes them or not. If she feels happy and sage with someone, that’s all that matters, she doesn’t feel the need to classify them beyond that. But she’s also aware that others don’t feel that way! And she feels pretty special when Lucas calls her his girlfriend!

In the future, there can be a lot of different outcomes for her.

If Billy stays dead, I can see Max ending up two ways, either staying in Hawkins because that’s where her brother is dead and buried and trying to move on in her own way, or leaving Hawkins entirely, just cutting ties completely with everyone and everything there to move away from the trauma that’s there, except for every year on B’s birthday when she comes back to visit.

If Billy lives though, I think there’s again two outcomes for her. One where she feels guilty about not noticing the mindflayer and her and Billy’s relationship gets a little strained, because they don’t cope well when they’re trying to pin the blame, or one where she is just grateful her brother isn’t dead and decides to live life to the fullest after that.

In any scenario, she would obviously get the happy ending she deserves, she just has to get there a totally different way.

And also, regardless of what path she takes, I think she’d make for an excellent writer in her future career. She’s smart, she’s got lots of story to tell and draw inspiration from, and it just seems right for her, because it isn’t super constricting and it’s a job most people who do it love!

Now onto Robin!

Her middle name is Leora!

For some reason I have this idea in my head that she doesn’t live with her parents anymore. Not that she got kicked out or anything, just that she moved out pretty early on.

I also think she isn’t from Hawkins. I like the idea that her family moved there just before high school from either Ohio or Maryland, not sure which.

In band, I think she’s a flute. She just gives me flute vibes but I got kicked out of the band so maybe I could be wrong.

It’s canon that she’s goth, wearing her spiky leather bracelet with her work uniform and all, but I think she also sometimes goes in the totally opposite fashion direction, like, sometimes she’s just feeling the patterns and fabrics and colors of the sixties and seventies her mom gave her.

One of her favorite things to do with her friends is go shopping! Not like, around malls, in part because other than Starcourt, the closest mall to Hawkins is forty five minutes away, but she likes to go out with her group and visit all the local thrift shops and cafés and stuff like that.

And she’s super crafty! She has embroidery hoops, beads, jewelry making kits, all of it scattered everywhere!

She has like, the tips of her hair bleached, they sort of look like highlights in a way, so I think it was her that convinced Steve to get his highlights done too.

Matter of fact, I think she teaches Steve a lot of things about himself without either of them realizing. She’s just so, not-superficial I guess, that it starts to rub off of him.

In my head she’s just always got like, a suuuuuper good read on people even if they just met, like, she just sees straight through everybody ever, and that’s why she even gives Steve a chance despite knowing how he treated her in school.

Her Scoops! shorts are pretty big while Steve’s are tight as heck, so I hc that those are his shorts. The uniform used to be a skimpy sailor skirt, but she’s seventeen and not particularly keen on being creeped on by older men when she gets hired there, so she refuses to wear it. She gets in trouble on the first day for wearing jeans, and Steve feels bad about it so he gives her the extra pair of shorts from his uniform!

Robin totally bottles up everything from Starcourt until she can’t anymore. Like, Steve is very open about his struggles with what happened under the mall because he wants help and he’s done it alone before, but she feels like she should be strong, grateful that they survived, and just, move on and forget about it. It doesn’t work and she ends up crashing hard. Like she goes from silently suffering to getting panic attacks all the time, and falling in a super deep depression rut. Obviously her friends are very supportive and provide her with the help she needs, and with time (lots and lots of time) she gets better!

Heather!

Her middle name is Ernestine! It was her grandma's name!

I head canon that she is a lesbian and I ship her and Robin!

She calls Billy William all the time because she was raised to be formal and respectful, and Billy just doesn’t feel or sound right when she says it. Even though she insists her name is Heather and she doesn’t need a nickname, Billy calls her Hetty or H!

She wears clip on earrings! Her parents refuse to let her get her ears pierced because they say she needs to respect her image and all that, but she always felt like she was missing some accessories, and found out from one of her friends about clip ons, which they allow!

Even though she has popular girl vibes, I don’t think she was in high school. Just sort of a floater, and she liked it that way! She’s way too sweet to be in with Steve’s crowd, but had some things in common with pretty much everyone else. Once she’s graduated she sort of falls into that popular category around Hawkins because she’s rich and older now, but she’s still the same old Heather.

Heather is a super good baker and cook! Her mother always had her helping in the kitchen while her dad was staying late at work, and eventually she got really good! Sometimes she’ll just randomly bring her friends like, a load of banana bread or a hot dish because it makes everyone happy!

She's a very affectionate person! If she hasn’t seen her friends for a while she’ll kiss them all over, and everytime you see her you have to hug her (unless you don’t want to, she’s equally as understanding as she is lovey!)

I reject canon! Heather is not dead! I know it’s very unlikely but I think the clones in the upside down were like fail saves, and the real versions are all still alive somewhere!

In the case that this is true, when everything gets fixed I don’t think her memories of what happened to her would be intact, and I think that would be super traumatic for her. Almost worse than how she would be feeling if she knew.

In the future she wants to be in the entertainment industry! I can totally see her becoming a country singer or a soap opera actress or both!

Robin becomes a librarian at the same school that Steve works at when he becomes a teacher! She also does art commissions on the side. Sculpting, painting, charcoals, all of it, she’s good at all of it!

And last but not least, Tommy!!

My hc for Tommy’s middle name is Byrd. It was like a super common name at one point and then just sort of plummeted, and I like to think his parents thought they were being original choosing that one. All of his friends call him Tommy Bird to make fun of him, but he secretly doesn’t hate it.

Tommy and Steve didn’t really become friends until middle school! Hawkins has two elementary schools based on which region you live in, and because they live in like, opposite ends of town they go to different ones. But the first day of middle school when the two schools merge, they’re out for recess, Steve sees Tommy alone and approaches him, and they become instant besties!

Tommy is very insecure about his popularity. Steve is cool with letting his slip because he has other things to worry about, but Tommy doesn’t. His grades are alright and his home life is decent, and he’s not involved in upside down business, so when Steve ditches him and people start to lose interest in him, he gets extremely upset. It consumes him sort of, the fear that nobody likes him anymore. That ends up being why him and Carol break it off for good.

Another reason he thinks a reputation is so important is because he used to be picked on before being friends with Steve. When he was little he had giant glasses and dressed kinda lame, and he internalized that a lot. He’s scared that without Steve they’ll go back to that.

All of that is why he clings onto Billy so tight. Like, his best friend for the past six or seven years just walked out without looking back, and he’s terrified that he’s going to be bullied again. So when big tough guy Billy Hargrove rolls into town he’s like I have to be friends with this dude right now or I’ll die.

I ship him with Steve! A lot! But also I like the thought of Tommy and Steve and Billy, platonically and shippy-y!

As for where he’s from, I don’t think Tommy is Hawkins born and raised. He grew up down south, maybe Georgia, or Tennessee?, but then his uncle over in Indiana starts a snake oil business with his dad and they have to move.

I think he’s very much a lightweight. Alcohol isn’t really his thing because his dad was an alcoholic and it scares him that he’ll be like that, so he never really tried it and his tolerance is super low. He always designates himself the driver, only he doesn’t have a car of his own, he’s not allowed to until he’s on his way to college, so he always drives other people’s cars to their houses and walks home.

I don’t know if Tommy is able to avoid the upside down beyond st2. Maybe him and Billy try to keep in contact once school lets out, but he notices somethings off with him because he’s flayed. This could result in him also being flayed, depending on the situation, or if not he might get involved later, because he starts putting the pieces together after Starcourt.

Tommy owning up and joining Steve in monster hunting quests! Heck yeah!

If there is no involvement with all that mess though, I’d say it takes a few years out of high school for him to finally admit to being wrong. Like, he always maintained that he was right to be mad at Steve for driving away and right to be basically just a bully like he was, but once he’s older, mid twenties maybe, he realizes that wasn’t the way to be and calls a bunch of people up to apologize to them.

He goes to beauty school and becomes a hair stylist and makeup artist on television sets!

As for other background characters, like other party members or adults, I don’t have a whole lot of specific ideas that aren’t already canon! In the future if I write anything where they are more central characters that might change, but as of right now I don’t really have any headcanons for them!

#max mayfield #robin buckley #heather holloway #tommy h #nonsense from ej #headcanon #obviously I have a bunch more in my head when I write but this is just the basic stuff I wanted to throw out there #it’s also kinda a mess because I’ve been trying to get this list organized before I post my next fic #which I already said a couple of days ago would be up in a few and it will #I’m working on it I just have a heck ton to do right now #anywho pardon all the projecting I did here #and sorry if this is formatted super weird I’m posting this from mobile

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years ago

Text

A Patti Smith Envelope

PART THIRTY-FOUR OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: anxiety about future, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: Ella and Jess move into their new apartment.

A newspaper ad circled in red ink had led them to the cozy one-bedroom four blocks over from Truncheon and six blocks from campus. It was only late April, earlier than Ella was expecting for them to find something. But she had finished finals, had booked gigs working at the art camps at the college over the summer. She had a few weeks off to make art, and hopefully help out in Truncheon. After touring the place, it felt right. An excited tightness in her stomach. Jess, too, had squeezed her hand in elation as soon as they walked through the door. The place had built-in bookshelves on the far wall, the bedroom on the other side. Ella didn’t believe in signs, but even she could agree it was as close to perfect as they were going to get.

Luke had offered to help without even being asked. Chris, Matthew, Leo, and Mabel were all participants to different degrees of willingness, and they hardly needed any more bodies. But Luke insisted the minute Jess had told him the moving date over the phone. It was likely he needed some sort of distraction since April had moved to New Mexico anyway. She wasn’t going to be back until the summer. And it seemed neither Luke nor Lorelai had come to their senses about each other yet.

He rolled up to Philadelphia in his truck two hours before they expected him. He claimed moving wasn’t moving if there wasn’t a truck to help out. Packing up all the stuff in the apartment was easier than Ella expected, just as it had been when she moved out of her childhood home. Jess could be cluttered sometimes, but nowhere near the level of Chris, and most of Jess’s belongings consisted of old band t-shirts and marked up books anyway. Ella, likewise, had most of her records stuffed in the back of her car. The dresser fit in Chris’s SUV after a fair amount of squeezing stuff in. The bed was the real challenge. It turned out Luke’s truck wasn’t such a frivolous vehicle, after all.

A drizzle was just beginning to fall from the gray, cloudy sky as they finished moving all the boxes inside. The apartment, on the second floor of some ancient building, was not exactly up to twenty-first century standards. The pipes were old and cobwebs gathered in the corners. A splinter or two jutted out from the worn down wood floors, golden brown under the dim lights. But the bohemian rug and many lamps they’d scouted out from the thrift shop a week earlier were already proving helpful. Boxes, labeled with mostly Jess’s scrawled, cramped handwriting, were stacked high in the corner of the living room, others gathered on the cracked tile of the kitchen counter.

Ella blew the stray hairs away from her eyes, otherwise pulled back in her black bandana. Her bangs were growing longer, and she was just becoming able to fully tuck them behind her ears. Roses of flushed color bloomed on her cheeks, her skin hot and sticky. Chris had already sprawled out on the dark gray couch, Leo on the arm. The couch, too, was secondhand, bought for ten bucks at the ReStore off the interstate.

“You really should be paying us,” Chris huffed, throwing his arm across his eyes.

Ella scoffed from where she was helping Matthew and Mabel unpack the kitchen. There was actually not much to be done, as Jess and Ella were planning on getting most of their supplies in the following days. There were a few mugs, bowls, spoons. “Consider it payback for the amount of times I’ve made you pie.”

“I was under the impression those were ‘no strings attached’ pies,” Matthew chimed in.

“Or, at most, ‘friends with benefits’ pies,” Mabel added.

Ella rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m taking advantage of all of you. I’m eternally in your debt. But I think we got everything, if you guys wanna get outta here.”

The four of them exchanged glances, eventually coming to a consensus they were exhausted enough to leave and retire to the cold pizza in the fridge at Truncheon. Ella suspected they were excited to have their own rooms for the first night in forever, as Chris had already made work of moving his stuff into Jess and Ella’s old room, before they had even finished moving out. She gave them sweaty hugs and salutes goodbye, finishing with unloading the meager contents of the new fridge.

“Hey, Jess, we’re outta here!” Leo called.

Jess’s head appeared from the doorway to the bedroom. “Good. Better to save yourselves now before World War III breaks out in here.”

From beyond the bedroom door, Luke could be heard grumbling obscenities and fighting with the new bed frame he was struggling to put together.

“See you on the other side, then,” Matthew said, smiling. “Also known as Monday.”

“We’ll see if I make it until then,” Jess shrugged, offering them a small wave. “Thanks, guys.”

“You are not welcome,” Chris grunted, trudging out the door.

Mabel gave Ella one last hug before exiting the apartment, shutting the door softly behind her. A grin broke out on Ella’s face. She and Mabel had gone on more than one lunch together, had even gone shopping once. It was new and Ella was still a bit worried the timid woman would be scared away from a friendship with her, but they were slowly getting to know each other.

As Jess continued grappling with Luke, who went on grappling with the bed frame, Ella finished with their groceries. The kitchenware was more or less unpacked to a decent level. The books were next on her list, followed by the records. Rounding the corner of the counter into the living room, she stopped short of the book boxes.

She put her hands to the hips of her jeans. There were a few water spots on the popcorn ceiling, reminding her of Truncheon. The air smelled cozy, but more of lemon Pledge than anything else. Someone had dusted the built-in bookshelves in the initial flurry of unpacking. During the walk-through of the place, Jess had pointed out the corner next to the couch as the perfect spot for an easel. Looking over it, with familiar furniture moved in, the place seemed more real. Less like a dream for the two of them. The terrace past the small sliding glass door was empty, but she thought maybe they could fit a few chairs. It wasn’t as though the view was spectacular, just a vision of the city street below and the other apartment building opposite. But it was more than enough for two people who had both lived out of their cars for extended periods of time.

An odd sense came over her, one of total novelty. Never before had she had a real say in her home. Her parents lived in the blue house in Stars Hollow before she was born, Lane had moved into her house with Zach and Bryan long before Ella started sleeping on the couch, the apartment above Truncheon had been a simple convenience to everyone involved. But she and Jess had chosen the apartment together. They had admired the cheap price, the proximity to work, the odd seashell tiles in the bathroom. The place seemed to have been built before the contemporary requirements of architectural uniformity. It had a mind of its own inside: a leaky sink and a brick exterior and shag carpet in the bedroom. Not altogether a surprise, considering it was in the artsy housing district near the campus.

“Dammit!” she heard once more from the bedroom.

Heaving a tired but cheerful sigh, she crossed her arms over her Clash t-shirt (borrowed from Jess) and entered the bedroom, to the left of the living room and kitchen, opposite from the tiny bathroom. Luke and Jess were both hunched over the metal frame, trying to hold both the headboard and the footboard up and attach the middle section. Their faces were angry and red, frustration radiating off of them.

“Hey, so, it’s past seven,” she announced, eyebrows raised at their trouble.

Jess jumped slightly, his back to her, at the sound of his voice. The footboard slipped out of his grip.

“Oh, for the love of-” Luke began.

“It’s fine,” Ella interjected calmly, going over and placing a hand on Jess’s upper back. He panted but said nothing as his uncle continued fussing.

“Where did you even get this? There’s no damn instructions!” Luke said, readjusting the hat on his head.

“The discount store,” Jess answered, glaring down at the frame and over at the mattress, which stood leaning against the wall near the dresser. “Not all of us have diner money to fall back on.”

“Anyway,” Ella continued, “I bet we could all use some food. Jess, maybe you could drive Luke down to that place on Birch and get some sandwiches? I can finish with the bed.”

Luke shook his head. “Ella, I don’t think-”

“She probably can,” Jess interrupted dejectedly. “I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s those sculpture classes. But she can fix anything. Not just showerheads and cash registers.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Luke said, raising his hands in surrender and leaving the room. He went to grab his coat from the messy pile by the front door.

Ella stifled a laugh. “My god, he’ll never change.”

“Why is he coming with me to get the food?” Jess asked under his breath.

“Because I think he’ll have a stroke if he doesn’t stop with this bed. And he doesn’t know where the place on Birch is. You do,” she explained, giving him a peck on the cheek before going to try her hand at the bed.

Shoulders sagging with fatigue, Jess gave a begrudging nod, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Fine. Hopefully he��ll be less Vesuvius and more Mauna Loa by the time we get back.”

“Not everyday you hear a good volcano metaphor,” she quipped, assessing the middle section of the bedframe and deciding to take it apart altogether.

“I know. Imagine how dull your life would be without me,” Jess shot back, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite his frazzled state. “Turkey?”

She nodded. “You know me too well, James Dean.”

“Agreed,” he said with a teasing laugh.

“Fuck off,” she replied through a chuckle.

Jess’s smirk grew as he turned on his heel to leave. “Love you back, Stevens.”

. . .

The windshield wipers of Jess’s rust bucket screeched against the glass as he rolled down Birch Street, away from the sandwich shop. A white paper bag full of subs sat in the passenger seat atop Luke’s lap. In one hand, Luke held a bouquet of deep red tulips. Jess hadn’t remembered the florist shop where Ella had worked the previous summer was right down the road from the sandwich place. He’d stopped in for the bunch of blooms as they waited for their order to be filled. The plastic wrapper around the bouquet crinkled in Luke’s fist as he braced himself, Jess rounding a damp corner.

“I told you we should’ve taken my truck,” Luke grumbled.

Sighing, Jess fought to keep his jaw untensed. “My car’s fine. It’s driven us across the country more than once.”

“Before or after it broke down on the highway and Coop had to have it towed back to Stars Hollow?” Luke asked, his voice tired and strained.

“Not sure. I know for a fact it was after you stole my car, though,” Jess retorted, eyes on the slick roads. He wished the radio was on, but the memories of Luke whining about his album choices were still too recent in his mind.

Heaving a large sigh, Luke gave a shake of his head. “Fine. I give up.”

“Thank you,” Jess muttered.

“You’re welcome,” Luke shot back irritably.

But then he looked over at Jess. His hair was no longer greased, his clothes fit better, his eyes were clearer. Most of the time, his brow was no longer drawn in anger or his face a scowl. Even his posture was different; straighter, brighter, more self-assured. And then he thought of Ella. She looked much the same as she had during her last few weeks at work, with her wide smile and loud laugh. The smiles were more frequent, though, and she seemed so relaxed around her friends. Even around Rory she had sometimes seemed a bit nervous to Luke, as though she were worried over a misstep.

Luke couldn’t contain the small grin on his grizzled face. “I’m really proud of you, Jess.”

Snorting a laugh, Jess spared Luke a quick glance before turning back to the road. They were only a few minutes away from the new home, but Philly traffic was never reliable, even on a Saturday. “Let’s put away the pom-poms for now.”

“I’m just sayin,’” Luke began with a shrug, “got your own company, your own apartment with Ella. You really seem to be doin’ great.”

Jess gave a short, humble nod, but took a long pause before he spoke another word. “Lorelai proposed to you, right?”

Luke’s brow crinkled. “Yeah?”

“But you proposed to Nicole?”

“Yeah.”

Humming under his breath, Jess gave another nod. Red brake lights glowed in the rainy evening darkness. “When did you know...how you wanted to propose?”

“Jess, are you gonna propose to Ella?” Luke asked, eyes going wide and smile growing.

“Never said that,” Jess answered nonchalantly, shaking his head. “Just never really delved into that part of your personal history. Figured I’d ask. Maybe I wanna get to know you better, uncle dearest.”

Rolling his eyes at Jess’s old patterns of behavior, Luke didn’t let his smile waver. He looked down at the bouquet in his hand. “Well, considering it was an impulse cruise ship marriage, not a lot of thought went into it. It just sort of happened. If you’re asking me how to propose to Ella-”

“Which I’m not.”

“-then I’d say she loves you and she’ll say ‘yes’ no matter what. And I’d say that you know her better than anyone in the world, and you shouldn’t...second-guess yourself. Do what feels right.”

“And did an Elvis impersonator marry you two on that cruise?” Jess continued.

Luke bit back another sigh. “No, wiseass. It was a regular minister.”

“Huh,” Jess chirped wryly. “You learn something new everyday.”

. . .

Patti Smith spun on the record player as the rain grew stronger outside. Though it was a pain in the ass to unpack the record player, Ella decided it just wouldn’t truly be home without the grace of music on the first night. Luke had left about an hour earlier, though they insisted he could stay over. He said he was nervous enough leaving Lane and Caesar in charge of the diner for one day, and he didn’t want to be late for the morning shift the next day. It made Ella roll her eyes, but eventually she gave up trying to convince him. It wasn’t as though she expected Luke to change his ways. The tulips sat in a mug of water on the kitchen counter, to be placed in something fancier and on something fancier once they actually had a makeshift dining area. For the moment, only the big pieces from the old place and the bed were filling up the small apartment. Ella had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at Luke’s face when he saw she had put the bed together all by herself, finished before they got back with the sandwiches. An expression of extreme frustration had slowly melted into pride. Both were memorable.

Between Jess and Ella, who sat cross-legged on the floor on either side of the coffee table in the living room, was a half-eaten pie. One of the few leftovers from Truncheon they had lugged over to put in the fridge before an actual grocery run. The apple crust was a bit soggy, but the filling was surprisingly good cold. She found herself so wholly content as they sat together: eating pie, listening to records, in the dim lamplight of the first place which was solely theirs. It all struck her with a force she wasn’t expecting. She chuckled to herself as she grabbed another forkful, eating away at the half they had not even bothered to cut but just dug into instead.

“What?” Jess asked through a sweet mouthful, furrowing his brows at her.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Doesn’t this all seem a little...surreal to you?”

“Does what seem surreal?”

“Just...we have an apartment together. And you own a business. And I only have a year left of grad school. I just...sometimes I can’t believe it’s happening. I can’t believe it turned out the way it did. You don’t feel that?” she asked, lowering her eyes sheepishly.

He cracked a small, crooked smirk. “I don’t know. I always just sort of thought I’d end up where I’d end up. And here I am. With you. Not a bad place to be.”

She rolled her eyes, a blush coloring her cheeks. “I know about your Kerouac philosophy. But just...when you first met me, did you ever think in a million years this is where we’d be now?”

“I didn’t know exactly where we’d be. But, I knew I’d land somewhere. I didn’t know if I’d land with you, but I wanted to. Maybe it’s a little surreal, but it doesn’t surprise me,” he explained, leaning his elbows onto the scratched wooden surface of the table with arms crossed.

Snorting a laugh at his insouciance, Ella finally locked eyes with him again. “It just feels a little too good to be true, I guess. I mean, you go to school your whole life, you work towards something your whole life. Once it happens, once you’re near the end...I just never thought it would actually happen. I don’t know what’s next.”

She tugged at her earring with her right hand. Jess noticed the chipped blue polish on her nails, though they weren’t bitten down. He couldn’t quite decipher her mood. Not that she seemed sad or distant, but he could tell she was having a hard time articulating herself. And he could tell she was letting an old worry creep up on her; she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He allowed his smirk to grow into a full smile and dropped his fork into the pie tin. “C’mon, you’re gonna figure it out. You know you are. I’m the directionless one. You’ve always been able to do anything. You’re plan girl.”

Ella gave a mirthful scoff. “You’re not directionless, Jess. And I’m not plan girl. Rory was always plan girl. I was try-to-make-it-to-the-finish-line-without-tripping girl.”

Jess hummed thoughtfully, about to reply. But she spoke again before he had a chance to.

“I thought you had a thing for her, y’know,” she said, taking another bite of pie.

“Who?”

“Rory.”

“Really?” Jess asked, and he couldn’t hide the bewildered amusement in his tone. “When was this?”

She shrugged and narrowed her eyes for a moment in memory. “Just when you first got to Stars Hollow. I mean, you hated Dean, and you like a lot of the same things, and you seemed to get along with her.”

“No. It was pretty much always just you,” Jess said, shaking his head slightly. “Maybe we liked a lot of the same stuff, but...I didn’t ever feel like she...got me like you do.”

“Oh, she didn’t, Kurt Cobain?” she teased, raising her eyebrows. She put her fork down in the tin next to his, her stomach full. Her eyes were beginning to get tired, her body starting to ache from the day of moving. She was glad the bed was put together.

He raised his hands in joking defense. “Hey, I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s true. Remember that night she was tutoring me?”

“The night you crashed her car? Yeah, it rings a bell,” she replied.

“Yes, that one,” Jess continued, smiling sardonically at her. “We were talking about the future. And she kept getting on me about how I had to do better and I had to go to college, just like she did, or else I would have no life.”

The smile which tugged at Ella’s lips was slightly bitter but mostly fond. “Sounds like Rory.”

“Everyone in Stars Hollow thought I was the antichrist. Maybe Rory didn’t, and maybe we were friends, but she definitely wasn’t okay with who I was then. Maybe she thought, with enough Schoolhouse Rock videos, she could get me to shape up,” Jess continued, taking small glances out the sliding glass door as he spoke. He could see a sliver of the city lights past another building on the right side. It was better than the bland brick wall and the dumpster which served as his view from the room in Truncheon.

“Hey, she is an amazing tutor. If there was anyone who could’ve converted you to the Ivy League conveyor belt, it was her,” Ella said.

“Yeah, but you and I both know school was never the way I was supposed to go. It was the way you were supposed to go, but you didn’t try to get me to be anything other than what I was,” he told her, voice light but eyes sincere.

Ella felt her heart skip a beat, but shrugged again. “I don’t know. I definitely tried to get you to ditch those CDs.”

“The exception that proves the rule,” he replied.

“Speaking of, I figured out how I’m gonna organize the books,” she said, tossing a look past his shoulder at the empty shelves.

“How is that a ‘speaking of’?” he asked, a confused smirk coming over his face.

“I’m doing genre, then alphabetical order by author. The way you used to do your CDs when we were in high school,” she explained.

“Oh.” Jess had his eyes trained on her, watching as she undid her bandana and ran her fingers through her mess of blonde hair. He chewed on his bottom lip. Then, after a pause filled only with Patti Smith’s poetry, he blurted out: “Y’know, you were the first person I ever said ‘I love you’ to. The only person.”

Her gaze softened and she nodded. “Me too.”

“No, Stevens, I mean anyone. Not just Nora Ephron kind of love. Not family either,” he said, most insistent, though he did his best to keep his tone nonchalant. As though it were just a run-of-the-mill fact about his past.

She stopped for a moment, brow crinkling. “Your mom never said it to you? Not even hippie dippie Liz?”

“No. We weren’t that kind of family. She wasn’t that kind of mom.”

A crease of concern deepened between her brows. Every time it had come up before, she assumed both of them meant romantic love. Familial was a different beast. But she had to remind herself never to assume with Liz, no matter how she seemed. Jess had arrived when Liz was a binge-drinking nineteen-year-old.

Before her brief interlude in the ‘love doesn’t exist’ frame of mind, before her mother’s death, Ella’s world had been filled with ‘I love you’s. Mostly from her mother, in her soft voice, with her delicate perfume. Some from her grandmother, and even from her father. And after, Lorelai had sometimes said them in passing. Rory, too. The three words, no matter how commonplace they could sound, were important, she knew. Especially when they weren’t uttered, or stopped being uttered.

She opened her mouth to say something, then bit the inside of her cheek and hesitated. Rising from her place, she rounded the corner of the coffee table and went over to him. Jess tilted his head at her in askance, but she only answered him by sitting down in his lap, straddling him as their noses drew only inches apart. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and simply hugged him. For a moment, he sat motionless, his muscles tense. It wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting, if he’d been expecting one at all. But then, he circled his own arms around her waist. They sat there, breathing slow and clinging to each other, for a long time. Patti Smith droned on around them, enveloping them.

Eventually, she pulled away and ran her fingers affectionately through his hair. He looked up at her, unsure of what to say. Fortunately, she took the lead, gaze unwavering as she spoke in her quiet, husky voice.

“Jess, you’re the fucking best. You’re my favorite person. And you’re gonna be hearing ‘I love you’ every day for the rest of our life,” she assured him, matter-of-fact. “So, I suggest you get used to it.”

“Right back at ya,” he replied after an awestruck pause, just before their lips met.

In spite of the fuss over the bed frame, Jess and Ella ended up spending the night on the worn rug in the living room, nearly naked underneath the first throw blanket they could find in the boxes around them.

#jess mariano #jess #mariano #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano x oc fanfiction #jess mariano x original character fanfiction #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano au #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls oc fanfiction #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls imagines #gilmore girls imagine #luke danes

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raywritesthings · 4 years ago

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Bird in a Storm 5/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Joanna de la Vega, Ted Grant, Raisa, Hank, Emily Nocenti, Female OCs, Male OCs Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

She’d boxed up everything that would be going with her. In the end, it wasn’t really that much. Joanna had offered to hold on to her law books — “For the near future,” her friend had declared, convinced this was only going to be a short hiatus for Laurel from the practice. The bulk of her things were clothes, old photos and albums, and Sara’s stuff. She hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, even with the smaller space she’d have now.

It took a few trips to get everything downstairs, but she wasn’t worried about leaving her stuff. Hank, her first ever client, was sitting with it outside in her car.

He’d sought her services all those years ago for his son when he’d been falsely accused of a mugging. Now that same son was in need of a cheap car to get to and from college, and Laurel had been more than happy to have someone to take it off her hands. The insurance was just going to be too much, not to mention her new home didn’t have its own driveway or garage.

She climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.

“That everything?” Hank asked.

“Yep. Time to go. Thanks for giving me a lift over.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do. This all is a real shame.”

Laurel nodded, leaning back against the headrest as she watched her old building glide away past the window. No turning back now.

They left downtown and entered the Glades. They were streets she was somewhat familiar with, at least the ones she took to and from work, but it seemed different now knowing this was to be her neighborhood. She spotted the corner store she’d researched online for where she would be getting her groceries.

As they turned onto her new street, dodging around a trash can that had fallen over into the road, she sat up. There was a whole group of people standing around by the front walk of the little townhouse she was to call her own. Hank honked the horn, and it was at that point she realized she recognized most of them.

“There she is. Welcome to the neighborhood!” Mrs. Ross called out as she got out of the car.

“What is all this?”

“I might have mentioned I was helping you move to a few people,” Hank admitted sheepishly. He had already taken one of the bigger boxes from the car, so Laurel headed up the walk to unlock her front door. She remained on the stoop as Hank went in, looking around at the people who had turned out.

One stood out in particular.

“Raisa?”

The Queen’s cook and housekeeper smiled at her. “I heard Mr. Oliver and Miss Thea discussing your move. You were always such a sweet girl with a good heart, and now we’ve become something of neighbors.”

“I didn’t know you lived in the Glades.” She would have thought the Queens paid her more than that.

“I do. My sister’s family, my son and I. We all share. A few streets away from here.” She waved a hand vaguely in one direction. Then she returned it to holding a tupperware bowl. “Now, I found time to bake some cookies. Your favorite, if I recall.”

Laurel thought she could feel her stomach growl at just the mention. “I’m sure they are. Thank you so much, Raisa.”

The woman patted her arm, and then headed in after Hank.

She wasn’t alone in bringing food. Mrs. Ross was carrying a large casserole dish covered with tinfoil. “You can serve this up over a week, maybe two. Did the job work out?”

“I talked to her over the phone, and she asked me to come in tomorrow to start.”

“Good, that’s good. But listen, don’t stand on ceremony with her. She’s just Pam.”

Laurel took note of that with a nod, and Mrs. Ross continued into the house.

A couple both about five years her senior approached her next. The woman reached her hand out first; she had brown skin and long dark hair in a sleek pontytail. “Hi, I’m Anita. This is my husband, Jerome. We’re right next door from you.”

Laurel shook both of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you.”

“No, thank you for moving in. There’s been kids smoking on the stoop and in the back. Makes the whole street stink,” Anita said. Her husband, a Black man, hummed in agreement. “Now they’ll just have to find somewhere else.”

“Well, glad I could help then,” she replied with a wry grin.

Anita turned her head to the side and said, “Bebê, you wanna grab a couple boxes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” she started, but Jerome had already walked towards the car.

“Oh, don’t worry. He carries heavier stuff than that at the docks,” Anita told her. “Jerome’s got work unloading the cargo ships that come by there.”

“This is like a feather,” he agreed as he returned with one box under each arm. Laurel had to admit he didn’t look to be breaking a sweat. He was probably taller than both Oliver and John, and maybe even her father. His hair was cropped short, though not as close as John’s military regulation.

Emily Nocenti was behind them in the makeshift line that had formed. “Laurel, I couldn’t believe it when I heard this was happening. If it weren’t for you and Joanna at CNRI — well, they’re losing a good person.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’m glad I was able to close your case first.” There were other cases she had been looking at before everything had gone wrong. Cases she would never be allowed to touch, whether or not they would have been winnable. It hurt.

Last of the group, Joanna emerged with a big smile. “I had to come and see the place, didn’t I?”

Laurel gladly accepted her friend’s hug. “Thanks for coming.”

Joanna took out an envelope and passed it to her. “This is from Peter Declan. He’s at a recital for his daughter and couldn’t make it, but they both wanted you to have it. Something to help you out.”

She opened it to find a thank you card with two fifties folded up inside. Laurel bit her lip as her eyes stung for a moment. Just thinking about all that time the man had spent wrongly imprisoned, only to still be so kind. “You’ll tell him thanks?”

“Of course. Now come on, let’s get you unpacked.”

Together, the two friends entered the house. It was much smaller than her old apartment, and still one level. The sitting room bled into the kitchen with only a counter separating them. A cramped hallway led back to a bathroom with a standup shower and further back was the single bedroom with a tiny closet. Sara’s things would be going up on the high shelf in there just as they had done in her old place.

Everyone had congregated in the main room. Raisa and Mrs. Ross were manning the kitchen while Jerome unpacked her appliances. The only good thing about the brevity of her and Tommy cohabiting a space was that practically everything in it had been hers; it cut down on things she’d needed to buy.

“Think these are clothes,” Hank said as he opened one box on a squat coffee table.

“Joanna and I can take that. Thanks, Hank.”

She picked up the box and led Joanna back through to the bedroom.

“Well,” her friend began. “It could be worse.” She sat on the bed and tested its bounce. Laurel didn’t miss her smile dropping for a moment. “So how safe is this neighborhood, Laurel? I mean really?”

“It’s not the worst,” she hedged. “It was the best I could find in terms of the landlord. There’s some tenement housing where they don’t turn the heating on until the dead of winter, did you know that?”

Joanna shook her head. “It doesn’t surprise me, but no. Look, Laurel, are you sure you don’t just want to stay with me and my mom for a while?”

“I couldn’t. Really, it’d be too generous, and I still wouldn’t be able to keep up with my car payments. I’d have no way to get to work.” She finished hanging a few sweaters and turned to take Joanna’s hands. “It’s going to be okay, Jo, I promise.”

Someone clearing their throat caused her to turn and see Anita standing in the doorway. “I found your toiletries. You just want those in the bathroom?”

“Yes, thank you. On the sink is fine. I’ll sort through them all later.” Laurel moved away from Joanna and took out her gray pea coat to hang up next.

“Oh, you sweet thing, that is a beautiful coat.”

“Thank you,” Laurel replied.

“You’re gonna have to get rid of it.”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

Anita gave her a rueful grin. “People spot you walking around in something this nice, they’re gonna think you have money. And some of them are gonna want that money.”

Laurel exchanged a nervous look with Joanna. “Um, okay. Do you think your mom would want this?”

“I’ll ask her.” Joanna stood and folded the coat over her arm. Laurel frowned as she looked over her things. She’d thought she had already sold most of her best stuff, but did she give off the image of someone it would be worthwhile to mug? Was that all that some people would see?

Anita set aside the toiletry case and approached her. “I’m not saying you can’t have anything a little nice. But you want to be careful. Those kind of folks can pick out people who don’t belong, don’t know better.”

Laurel nodded. “I understand.”

“If you need some different things, there’s a thrift store four blocks east of here. You can get some nice stuff second hand, too.”

“Laurel, I’ll finish hanging up the clothes. You go sort out the other boxes,” Joanna said. Her friend could clearly see she needed something else to distract herself with, at least for a few moments.

“Yeah, okay.”

When she entered the main room, Emily Nocenti was pulling the photo albums and framed photographs out of one box and setting them aside. She held up one as Laurel approached.

“Is this you and your dad?”

Laurel shook her head. “No, that’s my sister, Sara.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Emily rushed to say, and Laurel remembered with some embarrassment that she had told the other woman the whole history that day they’d bumped into Oliver at the courthouse.

“It’s fine.” She put a smile on to reassure the other woman, then took the photograph and placed it on the narrow bookshelf standing against one wall. “I don’t even know why he bought her that canary. It never shut up, drove us all nuts.” Sara had grown bored with it after a week or so, too, leaving her to either have to remind her sister or simply feed the loud thing herself.

Laurel then stopped by the kitchen. “Is there a pizza place or something near here? I don’t want to send you all home without eating.”

“There’s Joe’s on Fifth and Powell. They’ve got a nice deal on Saturdays,” Jerome told her.

Laurel looked them up and ordered, and soon enough most of her boxes were empty and everyone had regathered in the main room to eat. Anita had had to run next door to grab paper plates, which Laurel wished she’d thought to buy beforehand. She hadn’t really been expecting company so soon, though.

“And there really isn’t some kind of appeal process?” Emily was asking her. “I know the Hood isn’t exactly innocent, but without him Sommers would be walking free. A lot of people think he does good work.”

“Well, he could be doing more,” Mrs. Ross said. Laurel looked over in surprise. The other woman raised both hands. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot still wrong with this town.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to feel safe walking around at night. Usually I just sit around after work waiting for Jerome to be done with his shift and come get me,” Anita agreed. “Lots of guys out there think they can use force to get their way, too.”

“Well, that’s not like anything the Hood’s doing,” Laurel began.

“No, but it’s funny,” Jerome said. “He stopped those bank robbers a few months back. How come he doesn’t do more of that?”

“It would be so nice if he would do something about the gangs that attack the bus routes,” Raisa agreed. “I’m always so afraid to go home. Any day now, they’ll pick the one I’m on, and I’ll lose my wages.”

“There’s gangs hitting the buses?” Joanna asked. Judging by the look on her face, this was the first she was hearing of it, too.

“Well, maybe the Hood just doesn’t know about all of that.”

“What if he did?” Hank asked. He’d been mostly quiet till now, but he was staring directly at Laurel. “Maybe if you told him?”

The others were all watching her expectantly, too. Much as she didn’t want to disappoint them, Laurel knew protecting Oliver’s identity was still important, even among friends.

“It- it doesn’t really work like that. I don’t have the phone to contact him anymore.”

There were nods and glum looks. Mrs. Ross stood and started gathering up empty plates. She patted Laurel’s hand. “Best for you to keep your head down. That’s what we all do to survive.”

The party atmosphere had waned, and slowly everyone started making their way to the door. Laurel thanked them each as they left, then stood in her doorway and watched as Hank drove away with what was no longer her car. The lights were on at Anita and Jerome’s, but other than that the street was quiet.

Laurel shut and locked the door, then put away a few more little things before retiring to her new bedroom. It was hard for her to get to sleep; whether that was due to a first night in a new environment or her thoughts, she wasn’t sure.

What the others had said about the Glades and the Hood, it weighed on her. There was so much more work to do to even come close to saving this city. Laurel just wasn’t sure how she was going to take it on.

---

Pam rose early as she always did and went about her morning routine. Getting ready, watering the plants that needed it, and feeding her cat. She made sure to give him a nice big bowl, otherwise he tended to try going after the basil.

With everything upstairs settled, it was time to head down and open Green Glades for another morning.

She checked the register and went up and down the rows, inspecting her wares. Some of the perennials weren’t looking as good as they had a week ago. She’d have to consider marking them down. There was some other matter of business she needed to tend to today, though it was escaping her what that was specifically. With a shrug, she decided it would dawn on her at the right time.

Pam returned to her counter and had only eased back into her stool for a few minutes before there was a knock at the front door. She looked up. “Now who could that be?”

It wasn’t opening time yet. But as she shuffled to the door, she could make out the outline of a young woman with brown hair and a striped sweater. Ah! Her brand new assistant then. She’d known she was forgetting something.

Pam undid the lock. “Laurel?” Such a pretty name for the girl who was herself rather pretty.

Her new assistant nodded with a small, polite smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Pam.”

“You as well. I’m glad you got here early. We’ll have some time to go over the store.”

She led Laurel on a walking tour up and down aisles, pointing out the organization of the flowers and other plants. “I did them by difficulty. Makes it easier for the beginners.”

“Difficulty?”

“In how to tend them, grow them. Some plants require a skillful touch compared to others. They’re high maintenance. You’ll see in time. What sort of plants have you owned?”

“Um, my mom had a basket...thing, when I was growing up,” Laurel said. Pam waited, but that was apparently to be it.

“Well, you’ll be able to relate well to the beginners, then. Tell you what, today I’ll have you on the register. She’s an old thing, but you learn the right way soon enough. Oh, and I’ve got some mark down stickers that need putting on a few of the perennials.”

“I can do that,” Laurel volunteered with spirit, clearly glad to have something she felt confident enough in doing. Pam fished out the guide she had for customers, dog-eared and stained with mulch in places, setting Laurel to work.

They had their first customers before she’d finished, and Pam was kept busy by the register. It was mostly folks coming in early for seeds and bulbs, a couple of indoor plants here and there. Pam did some bouquets, of course — she knew where the money was — but she was always so happy to sell something living instead.

“Pam? Sorry, where’s the sink?”

Pam turned to find her assistant holding the sticker tape in one hand and her other, dirt-covered hand far away from her clothes. There were already a couple of dark stains on the front of her sweater.

“Oh! I should have got you an apron. I’m sorry, dear.” She ushered Laurel into the back where she found her an old smock to wear in place of the sweater, along with her own apron.

Laurel came up to learn the register, which left Pam a little freer to chat with her neighbors and regulars, like Annie who came in hefting two canvas bags of groceries already. She must have gotten up early to have made the two mile trek to the supermarket and back.

“I’m thinking of trying a little herb garden this year in my window box,” Annie told her. “Wanted to talk to you first about what I might be needing.”

“Absolutely. Now what have you been growing in the window box before this?”

“Just some marigolds. Mom’s favorite, you know. But who’s this?” Annie asked, turning to look at Laurel.

“Hi, I’m Laurel. It’s nice to meet you. This is my first day.”

“Oh, the new assistant!”

“Yes, this is my florist-in-training,” Pam remarked. “She’s a bit green, but she’ll have a green thumb before it’s said and done.”

Laurel looked down at the register keys, a bit of a blush to her cheeks.

“Now, about that window box,” Pam decided to continue to get the attention off the young woman.

She did introduce Laurel to a few more of the usual crowd over the course of the day, and just a couple hours after dark, it was time to close up. In another couple months, it would still be light out come closing time.

They hung up their aprons, and Pam assured her assistant she could bring the smock back tomorrow so she wouldn’t be walking home in a dirty sweater. “Try to find something old you don’t mind getting a little messy for next time.”

“Right.” Laurel turned to walk past the counter and towards the door.

“Wait a minute!” Pam called. Her assistant stopped and watched as she shuffled into the back again, this time coming out with a small, potted African violet.

“Now, this is for you. Call it a hiring bonus.”

Laurel looked at the plant with clear surprise and moved to hand it back over.

“I can’t take it for free.”

“Of course you can. I bring home the troubled ones all the time. Any florist should have a few of their own.”

“I don’t know, Pam. I was never really a plant person. What if it dies?”

The girl was nervous, eager to please. If Pam had to guess, life hadn’t treated her well even before her ouster from CNRI. She only knew the bare basics from what Liza Ross had told her neighbor, and she wasn’t inclined to dig for the details. Sometimes it was best to let those things emerge on their own.

“You take that home. Nurture it. Learn to care for it.”

Laurel wilted, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all anyone can do, dear.”

She sent the young woman home and finished locking up the place. Pam wiped her hands on her apron before hanging it back up on the hook on the wall, then climbed the stairs at a slow pace. Her feet and knees hurt far less now that she wasn’t doing so much around the shop, but they still weren’t what they used to be when she’d been a younger woman.

Ah well. Young or old, they all had their struggles.

---

She had a full week under her belt at the shop, and suffice to say Laurel was exhausted. Her whole day was spent on her feet, as Pam only had the one stool and she wasn’t about to deprive the older woman of it. It wouldn’t look great if she was constantly sitting around, either. She’d need to trade her plain flats for some sneakers. Her arches were killing her.

It was her first day off and she’d mostly spent it on the couch, too tired to even think about going out. She’d clicked around on her computer reading this or that article. One of Starling’s elite, Ken Williams, was under scrutiny after revealing the pyramid scheme he’d been a part of. The articles didn’t say, but Laurel suspected the Hood’s involvement in making the man change his ways.

At least Ollie was still getting real work done out there.

It had gotten dark without her notice. Laurel yawned and stretched. Time for an early bed. She pushed up off the couch and crossed the room.

The glass in her front window shattered, and Laurel dropped and rolled away from a rectangular object that landed on her floor. When nothing happened, she peeked out from the protective ball she’d curled into.

It was a brick. She heard some jeering laughter outside, but when she went to the window the culprits were already running off into the night. Just some lousy troublemakers. They probably hadn’t even had a purpose to picking her house. Or they were the teens upset she’d taken away their smoking spot.

Laurel’s forehead dropped to rest against the wall as she waited for her heartbeat to slow. Was she getting paranoid? There wasn’t anything special about her anymore, so why would people be coming to attack her?

It occurred to her that standing around in her socks while there was broken glass on the floor wasn’t the best idea. She picked her way over carefully and stepped into her shoes, then went to fetch her broom and dustpan. The floor was easy enough to start with, but she was going to have to remove all the couch cushions and make sure nothing was hiding underneath.

A knock at her door interrupted her, causing her to tense back up as she listened.

“Laurel? It’s Jerome from next door.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she went to the door. “Hi.”

“Anita sent me to check on you. Thought we heard something crash over here.”

“Yeah, I think it was just some kids. They threw a brick through my window. I’m fine.”

“Kids.” He shook his head. “You need any help cleaning the glass up?”

She waved a hand. “No, I’ve got it.”

“Well, how about I bring a tarp over to cover the window up till the landlord gets around to replacing it. We should have one lying around.”

The practical side of her won out when she considered that they still hadn’t reached spring. “If it’s not any trouble, I’d really appreciate it.”

He smiled. “Sure thing. Be right back.”

Laurel took off the couch cushions and finished sweeping while she waited, then took one end of the tarp to help Jerome tape it up. Hopefully the paint wouldn’t peel later.

Just as they were securing it on all four sides, another crash sounded.

They both ducked back behind the cover of the walls, but after several beats of silence, Jerome poked his head out and glanced around. “Can’t see anything.”

Laurel checked as well, looking each way up the street, then down at the ground.

“Oh,” she gasped.

“Laurel?” Jerome was at her side in two steps.

“No, it’s nothing. Just… my violet.” She went out the door and picked her way over a couple shards of glass to where the shattered pot and a heap of dirt sat, her sad little flower barely sticking up out of it. She’d forgotten it was still sitting on the windowsill, and the tarp must have knocked it over. Laurel scooped it up and carried it back inside.

“I’m so sorry, Laurel.”

She plastered a smile to her face. “It was an accident. Really, Jerome, it’s fine.”

“You got another pot we could put it in?”

Laurel shook her head. “No. Um, I’ll try a tupperware and see if Pam can help me with it tomorrow.”

“You sure you’ll be alright here tonight?”

“Yes. But thank you.”

Her neighbor left and Laurel’s smile instantly fell. She looked at the wilted flower sitting in her hands. What was even the point?

Nevertheless, she found a tupperware and packed the dirt in around the plant’s roots. She sprinkled a little water over it and washed her hands, then sat down heavily at her table.

“Are you okay?”

She gasped but almost instantly calmed; Oliver stood near the back of the room with his hood pushed back. He must have entered through the kitchen door, even if she’d been sure it was locked.

“I’m fine. It was just some kids.” She waved a hand towards the tarp. “My neighbor helped me fix it.”

Oliver frowned and stepped closer. “You’re crying.”

Laurel rubbed at the tear tracks on her cheeks, pointless when he’d already seen them. “It’s not because — I’m okay. Just- my plant. It got knocked over.”

Oliver was eyeing her warily, like he was afraid the slightest word might set her off crying. “Your plant.”

“Yeah.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not hysterical. It’s just my boss sent it home with me so I could learn more about caring for flowers, so I know she’ll be disappointed if I’ve already killed it.” To her horror, a lump started to rise in her throat as she spoke, making the next words difficult. “And it’s one of the only things I had to make the place feel like a home, so yes, I am mourning it.”

“Laurel, I know how you think your clients would feel if you lied, but wouldn’t they rather you be there to help them?” Frustration was practically leaking from his tone.

“I can’t go back, Ollie. Don’t you see that’s how this starts? Corruption has this city in a chokehold, and no one is immune. If I lie to save my job, what’s to stop me from withholding a piece of evidence that makes my cases harder to win? Or stealing my dad’s files? Where does it end?”

“I’m worried about it ending out here for you,” he replied. “The Glades aren’t safe. That brick could have been an accident, or it could have been something deliberate.”

“Because billionaires hire teenagers to threaten ex-lawyers?” She almost laughed. “Oliver, I don’t have enemies. Those people in the top offices of corporations or the penthouse apartments, I guarantee they’ve forgotten about me already. I’m nobody.”

His face fell, and he shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

She couldn’t trust her voice to remain steady enough to reply to that. Instead she asked, “What were you doing here?”

“I was on my way to another person on the List.”

“Really? And you just happened to pass by the very minute someone threw a brick at my window?” She looked him in the eye. “You shouldn’t be watching over me. There are plenty of other people in this city who need your help more.”

“But this is the only way I’m allowed to help you.” His expression was pained. He hadn’t liked agreeing to keep his distance as Oliver Queen, but she hadn’t realized how much it might have hurt him.

Laurel got up from her chair and approached him. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, but they do. And you have to trust me that I’ll ask for help when I need it.”

Oliver closed his eyes but nodded once. “I guess I can’t persuade you to use one of the Manor’s rooms until your window is replaced.”

“No, you can’t. You wouldn’t, not if you were really the person you’re trying to make everyone believe you are. I’ll be fine, Oliver.”

He stiffened for a moment and placed his hand to his ear where the comm to Diggle rested.

“You should get that.” Laurel turned back to her sitting room, busying herself with rearranging the pillows on the couch. When she looked up, he was gone again.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself for a moment, flicking the lights off as she retreated to her bedroom. With all the chaos on top of her exhaustion from work, Laurel readily fell asleep.

It was with only minor surprise that she woke the next morning to a text from Oliver himself.

The window people should be there by ten. If they’re not, let me know

That was so typical of him. She sent off a quick reply.

Why, so you can visit my landlord?

Laurel looked the message over again. It sounded harsh when she hadn’t meant to be. She knew he was just trying to help in whatever way he could.

I’m sure it will be fine. But thank you

I do miss you, she very nearly sent. But Laurel held herself back from hitting that button, erasing the words instead. There was little point to making him feel worse. Even if it was true.

---

Oliver sighed as he read Laurel’s messages. He wished he could do more than guarantee she had all her windows. But his involvement in her life had to be kept mostly a secret these days.

If he’d known his outspoken dislike for his vigilante alter ego would put this kind of restriction on his friendship with Laurel, he would have been more careful about what he said.

Put simply, he was stuck. If he tried to intervene as the Hood — visit CNRI’s benefactors, make them reconsider their hardline stance — Laurel could end up in far worse trouble, this time with the law. Would Lance even hesitate to arrest her? He’d used her as bait once.

About the only assistance he could offer was physical protection, and Laurel didn’t even want that. He knew she had a point about not wasting his nights, a point Diggle would no doubt agree with.

But it was hard to see what the point of all of this was. He would be at this mission forever if he went name by name on the list. He was no closer to figuring out what this Undertaking was or if that had been what his father wanted him to stop all those years ago. His mother had been rattled by his visit to her as the Hood, Tommy was jealous of an imaginary enemy, and Laurel had had to give up everything.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t see the benefit that came to him from her decision. To operate out of the Glades as he did, there was a certain amount of discretion he needed to rely on the residents to have. Laurel vouching for him gave him some legitimacy, some currency with those people he would have otherwise needed to work much harder to earn. He’d already had to change some of his routes coming to and from the base thanks to tips that were phoned in when Laurel had been reported missing.

Even her vote of confidence didn’t sway some people, though. Felicity had threatened to quit her tentative working relationship with the Hood the other night over his decision to target Ken Williams because of his status as a parent. Oliver had wanted to point out all the parents and children Williams’ pyramid scheme was stealing from, but John had talked him around to a more conciliatory approach. As a result, he was now committed to tracking down an art thief who had nothing to do with his father’s mission. Everything was just too much.

He decided to spend a little bit of time with Tommy in the club before their meeting with Felicity at Big Belly Burger.

“Finished moving all my stuff into the new place,” Tommy was telling him, his voice cheerful enough that Oliver knew there was something forced about it. “Still downtown, but it’s a bit smaller.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll settle in,” he said.

“Yeah. Just needs a few touches to start feeling homey. Maybe a girl or two.”

Oliver scrutinized his friend. “You really want to start dating again so soon?”

Tommy shook his head with a grin like he’d said something funny. “Not dating.”

“Tommy.”

“Look, Ollie, I tried it out, right? Turns out relationships are as bad as I always thought they’d be. Some of us just aren’t made for it,” he said, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. It was clear he was counting the both of them as part of this dubious ‘some’, which stung even as Oliver knew he probably deserved to be there.

Digg cleared his throat, and when Oliver looked over he saw why. Laurel was hovering near the back wall, clearly not wanting to approach while Tommy was with him.

“Tell you what, I’ve got a meeting to get to later, so I’m gonna go over the inventory real quick.” He clapped Tommy on the shoulder in return and headed down to the base.

He followed after John who had already led Laurel downstairs. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, the window people took care of it. Thanks again.”

“Okay.” Oliver stopped himself from asking why she had chosen to come here, then. Scaring her off was the last thing he wanted.

“I did some thinking at work today about our situation. How we can’t really be there for each other the way we might want to.”

That was certainly putting things lightly, but he couldn’t deny a warm feeling in his chest at the knowledge it had been bothering her, too.

“So I think I have a solution.”

“Oh?”

“I had the thought that since you seem to like lists, maybe I should make you one.” She took out a piece of paper that had clearly been ripped out of one of her old legal pads. Laurel held it out to him with a little flourish that almost reminded him of the girl who’d once presented him with her photo. The mix of happy and sad that memory represented had to be pushed down before he could refocus.

He scanned it over, catching items like bus route gangs and price gouging on medications. Oliver looked up.

“Laurel, what is this?”

“We both want this city to be better than it is, and since I’ve started living in the Glades I’ve learned so much more about what people are up against, just in their day to day lives,” she explained. “I can’t do anything in the courtroom, but I can pass along what I’ve found out to someone who can do something. And that way, you’re helping me like you want.”

He could get where she was coming from, but as he stared down at the list all he could see was another set of distractions from his father’s mission. One that in itself already felt an impossible task.

“Laurel, I want to help you be safe.”

“And this would help do that.”

“But how much? Do you have any idea how many gangs or dealers are out there? Small crime is never going to be completely stopped, and it’s only a symptom of the larger problems my father was dealing with.”

Her arms crossed. “So the people who are victims of small crime should just suffer?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean, Oliver? Whenever you talk about being the Hood, it always comes down to your father or the men he wanted you to go after. Is this your mission or his hit list?”

He took a step forward. “Hey—”

“What about the people you’re trying to help? Why not listen to what they want?”

“Because I’m not their hero!” He snapped. “Okay? I’m not some guardian angel. I’m a killer, Laurel. Just like my father was.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. He could feel Diggle’s silent gaze on him, too.

“There were three of us who made it to the life raft. Me, my father, and one of the crew. A few days after the boat sank, we were running low on supplies. My father took a gun, shot the crewman and himself, so that I could survive,” he confessed in a shaking voice. “I have to complete this mission, Laurel. Or else it would have been for nothing. I’ve already let too many distractions get in my way.”

Every minute he spent on this Dodger, or got involved in a petty theft, was time he should have expended on the list and its true meaning.

“Well, I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes downcast. “I’ll let you get on with it.” Oliver looked away as she turned and made for the exit.

“Here,” he heard Digg’s low murmur, and it didn’t surprise him in the least that the man took the paper. Wasn’t he always trying to get Oliver to do this or that thing?

But when he looked at the other man, Diggle had tucked Laurel’s list away somewhere out of sight. Oliver drew in a breath and released it slowly as he heard the door to the steps shut behind her. Gone again. How did he keep doing this?

And after all that, he still had to take on this art thief just to keep their tech support happy.

“Let’s get this over with.”

---

Ted was cooling off with some water when the door opened to admit someone who definitely wasn’t one of his regulars. Didn’t even look like she could be a regular.

“Can I help you?”

She spotted him after he called out to her and walked over. “Yes. I wanted to see what kind of classes you teach and if I could take one.”

Ted didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Yeah, I don’t exactly have all that zumba and spin stuff that’s all the rage with you younger folks.”

Her returning smile was tight and unamused. “Well, good thing I’m not interested in that.”

He shrugged and went over to grab one of his adverts. “You can have a look at that, then.”

He watched her eyes scan over the pages, and as he studied her he couldn’t help thinking there was something familiar about her. Like he’d seen her face before.

“Can a beginnner try boxing, or are your lessons just for people who already know it?”

“I take anybody that can prove they’re committed to learning it. What has you interested?”

She looked up, and it suddenly clicked why he thought she belonged more on TV than in a boxing ring — he had seen her on TV.

“I’ve had self defense training, and now I’m looking for something a little more.”

“Is that because of your Hood friend?” He turned away. “Forget it, I’m not getting involved in the vigilante’s problems.”

“I’m more than somebody’s problem.”

He stopped and looked back. There was something in her eyes — not the desperate, lost look of some of his usuals who needed release from the pain life had dealt them, but a steely determination that belied her painted lips and comfy sweater all the same.

“That’s fair. Alright then, what’s your story?”

She eyed him for a moment. “I lost my job last month, so I’m living in the Glades now. There’s been some rough nights.”

“There always are. Why’d it bring you here?”

“Because I want to be able to handle them on my own.”

That was interesting. “And not the vigilante?”

She shook her head. “He does what he does for the city, not for me.”

She didn’t look to be lying. And the truth was, Ted would be an idiot to gain a reputation for turning down clients. “Alright, I’ll start you on a trial basis, see if you like it. Then we’ll talk regular lessons.”

She nodded. “That’s fair.”

When she turned to leave, it occurred to Ted they hadn’t sorted out one small matter. “Hold up! I didn’t get your name.”

She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I thought you recognized me.”

“Your face. Didn’t remember your name. You get knocked on the head sometimes in the ring,” he added. And on the streets, an old voice whispered in the back of his mind.

The woman smirked. “Laurel.”

“Alright, Laurel. I’ll see you on Tuesday for your lesson.”

“See you, Ted.”

She walked out with her hands resting in her pockets. There was a swagger to her beneath that girl-next-door veneer, a toughness that was coming to the surface the more life wore away at her. Ted felt himself grin.

He could work with this.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

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bubblegvms · 4 years ago

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♡ . * [ madelyn cline, cis female, she/her ] ⁠— * oh, here comes DELILAH ABBOTT ! the twenty-two year old libra is often referred to as the luminary. people say they have a tendency to be sententious and opinionated, but from what i’ve seen, they can be vivacious and devoted too. when they walk by, you’ll probably hear give you my lovin by mazzy star playing out of their headphones, but they’re also associated with chewing bubblegum after lunch, signing love letters with a kiss, & collecting music boxes. i hear they’re a waitress and studying women’s studies & want to become a social worker when they’re older, but who knows what will become of ‘em !

hey, everyone !! my name is diana, i am twenty years old, use she/her pronouns and reside in the est timezone !! some fun facts ( not really ) abt me: i’m a libra sun with a virgo moon and aquarius rising, i have 3 cats, i love film and jane austen :) i am suuuuper excited to be part of this group, ily all already and all ur muses are amazing <3 hehe i’ll be coming to u all for plots now asap :’) but anyway, without further ado, u can read abt my muse delilah under the cut !!!

♡ . * 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 !

full name : delilah lane abbott

nickname(s) : lila ( she goes by this ), dee ( by family and close friends )

age : twenty-two

zodiac : libra sun, taurus moon, pisces rising ( click )

sexuality : bisexual

alignment : neutral good

pinterest : click

♡ . * 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 ! ( alcoholism & substance abuse tw )

delilah was born on a crisp autumn night, october 15th, 1970, to be exact. she was born in a tiny apartment in the middle of a college party. delilah’s birth mom was extremely young ( high school age ) when she got pregnant, and wasn’t sure who the father was. she came from a wealthy family, but ran away when she realized she was pregnant

her birth mother also struggled with alcoholism and substance abuse. those close to her did their best to make sure she wasn’t using any of these substances during her pregnancy, but she snuck a few drinks and pills here and there whenever she got the chance

after giving birth to delilah, things only got worse. she continued drinking and using drugs more than ever before, often times neglecting her baby. she attempted to raise her baby with her boyfriend, who was much older than her, but he ultimately was no help and only there for a good time. delilah lived with her birth mom the first three ( almost four ) years of her life

finally, her birth mom’s parents tracked her down and discovered she had a child. once they saw the conditions she was living in, they told her she needed to put delilah up for adoption before the state took her away. so that is exactly what she did, and has been in and out of rehab ever since

delilah was adopted around a year later. at this point, she was nearly 5. she was extremely happy and felt so grateful to be adopted. while in the foster care system, she had met a lot of older kids who had been there for years

delilah’s family was so loving and welcoming, she truly could not have asked for more. 3 years later, they adopted jude and delilah became a big sister !!! she is extremely protective over her sister, she would literally do anything for her :’) and their parents clearly loved kids, since their basement also became the hangout spot for everyone

( donna and i are still plotting out the details about their family, but it’s only them and their mom now o: )

lila had to grow up pretty fast, so she always much more responsible and mature for her age. still, despite everything, she always maintained an optimistic outlook on life. she loves life and the people in hers so much, she just has so much love to spread !!!!

delilah developed a passion for feminism at a young age, thanks to her mother. she would literally print out feminist readings and pass them out at lunch in high school. she’d also give speeches about feminism at school. some people disliked her for it, saying she was too opinionated and stuff, but it never stopped her. she also pretty much always knew she wanted to be a social worker

♡ . * 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 !

delilah always sees the best in people. although she acknowledges that everyone has flaws, she’s the type of person who doesn’t like to give up on anyone. she will support you even through your darkest times, and try to help you see the light

she is so protective of her friends and family, like will truly do anything to see them safe and happy. she just wants to remind everyone that they are loved and supported

she LOVES people soooooo much !!! she is extremely extroverted, literally a social butterfly who tries to befriend literally everyone ajskdhkdh

delilah dislikes conflict, so she is often playing peacemaker, whether in her home life or with her friend group. she wants everyone to get along, but be able to talk to their differences to come to some sort of common ground. however, sometimes this means shes sticking her nose in other people’s business

she is obsessed with love !!!! like this girl literally falls in love 5 times a day with a stranger on the bus, the coolest celebrity on tv, the girl that sits next to he in class, etc. i think she is definitely a relationship person, because she’s a nurturer and wants to be there for people. however, i think sometimes she gets caught up in the fairy tale of it all. like she wants to be in love so bad, sometimes she rushes into things or idealizes the situation in her head, so things might not exactly work out

delilah isn’t very open with her emotions. she mostly keeps them to herself, because she doesn’t want anyone to have to worry about her or anything. she tries to deal with everything herself mostly

she sees the beauty in everything, which is like partially because she’s a huge optimist. she also cannot resist pretty things. she once bought a pink guitar from a thrift store because she thought it was pretty, even though she has no idea how to play. however, she wants to learn, especially because she loves to sing ( this bitch is literally always humming )

is almost always the designated driver. she doesn’t really drink or smoke too often, and when she does, it’s during social situations. but she wants her friends to have all the fun they want and know they have someone they can count on to get them home safely. but btw she is an extreme lightweight LMFAO

some other little headcanons / tidbits about her

♡ . * 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 !

adventure buddy - someone who goes on little adventures with her and is always down to experience and try new things !!!

ride or die / best friend - the person she is closest to ( aside from jude ). literally her platonic soulmate, the person who understands her the most, the person she understands the most

unlikely friends - they’re so different, you’d never expect them to be good friends. but for some reason, it just works. they click !! maybe they’re always introducing each other to new things, like showing each other their interests and stuff

ex-fling / gf / bf - maybe they ended on weird terms, maybe they ended on good terms, maybe they still have lingering feelings or sexual tension, etc. we can plot however !!

unrequited crush - maybe delilah has a crush on ur muse. she is constantly falling for people so it wouldn’t be unlikely !! OR ur muse could have a crush on her and she’s oblivious to it

requited crush - they both like each other, but maybe they’re both too scared to make a move, or maybe they’re ready to like try going out, we can plot however !!

friends w benefits - someone she is currently seeing / sleeping with. could be no strings attached, or there could b some feelings there. maybe they don’t want to make it anything serious, or maybe they’re ready to take it to the next level. maybe one person is ready to go further, and the other isn’t

enemies w benefits - ok not actually enemies, since they’re all friends and delilah doesnt rly hate anyone ( only racist, sexist, homophobic, etc kinds of ppl ). but maybe they don’t exactly see eye to eye, so imagine the tension !!! they started out not getting along that well, but ended up hooking up. maybe it was a one time thing, or maybe they can’t stop going back to each other. maybe they’re keeping it a secret from everyone else

will they, won’t they - there’s feelings between them, but they haven’t made the plunge to pursue whatever they have. longing, yearning, lingering glances PLS !!! they have chemistry, but maybe the timing has always been off ??

flirtationship - they flirt constantly, but nothing serious has come out of it and maybe never will. maybe they have good chemistry, but have never tried to explore it further, or don’t want to ruin their friendship. or maybe they flirt and think it’s a joke, but really it’s like a haha jk....unless ? type situation AKSJJKSD

ex-close friends - someone she used to consider a best friend, but they had a falling out for whatever reason. maybe they want to re-kindle their friendship but don’t know how, or they’re just accepting of the distance between them

take care / taken care of - ok so delilah doesnt drink or smoke a lot, but when she does, she is an extreme lightweight. maybe ur muse looks after her when she’s under the influence ? also !!! someone she looks after a lot. like she tries to take care of all her friends, but maybe she especially wants to take care of ur muse and has a soft spot for them !!!

confidant - someone who confides in her or someone she confides in, or they confide in each other !!! they trust each other, and maybe they talk more in private. delilah isn’t very open about stuff, but she confides in ur muse maybe

bad influence - delilah hasn’t done a lot of bad or crazy things in her life, so i’d luvvvvv for a bad influence plot !! someone who gets her to do things she never would do otherwise. someone who can show her a fun time !!

good influence - someone she can be a good influence on, someone she brings out the best in, maybe someone she rly cares about and wants to look after to make sure they’re ok !!

diner days - she’s a waitress, maybe ur muse always shows up during her shifts to keep her company and get free milkshakes !! someone who helps her pass the time while she’s working

these are all the plot ideas i can think of for now, but i’ll be making a plots page later on and add more stuff !

finally, that is all !! i’m so sorry about how long this is, i ramble so much sometimes !!! but anyway, if u like this post i’ll hit u up on discord ( if u don’t i’ll still message u <3 ). if u prefer tumblr im’s for plotting tho, just let me know <3 i’m sooo excited to rp with u all aaahhh i can’t wait !!!!

my discord: blackpink is coming <333333#5522

#♡ . * 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒂 ╱ ooc.#intro.

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peachyteabuck · 5 years ago

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fashión (bucky barnes x reader)

Summary: At one of your best friend’s drag shows, Bucky catches your eye. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the dance pop blaring through the bar’s speakers, but for some reason you’re feeling a little more daring than usual.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 2,536

Trigger Warnings: Blowjobs, shitty flirting, people are drunk and do sex things

Notes/Other: This was done for @propertyofpoeandbucky ‘s mystery writing challenge!! My prompt was “You’re my best friend. How could I put anyone before you?” and has been bolded within the fic! Also, I feel like this is the total opposite of what I’ve written recent but when I got this prompt I knew this wip was perfect for it.

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Dating has always been hard for you. Friends and family have always tried to set you up on dates - as has Tindr - but nothing seemed to stick. No one ever seemed to do the trick.

“C’mon, babe…” your friend coos to you. You’re in a dressing room at some fast-fashion establishment, the wide and tall mirror forcing you to stare back at yourself. The too-bright lights burn your eyes, the top radio hits from last year only depress you, and the smell of weed and regret radiating from your skin is making you want a sandwich. “Listen, I know you don’t want to do this-”

Your sigh cuts her off. “Then why are you making me?”

She steps over to you, readjusting the floral jacket before speaking. As you look in the mirror you realize actually kind of…like it. Which is weird. “Because I know better than you, you’re a shut-in, and every moment you’re not being ravished by a muscular hot dude physically kills me.”

God, her brazen personality always catches you off guard. That’s probably why she’s the performer and you just sit alone in the basement of your shared home - sewing and eating and writing all day.

In the end, you don’t buy the jacket. Lucy ends up taking you to her favorite thrift shop and you pick up a deep blue faux-fur coat and some velvet heels in the same shade. Boujie? Maybe. But it’s something you feel confident in, so you don’t grumble too much when you see the total.

You both get to the club early so she can get ready, focus on turning her face into the inside of an elementary schooler’s pencil case – one young enough to understand that there’s never such thing as too much stationary (or too much color) but young enough to constantly be losing caps. As she steps into the threshold of the famous bar, Lucy’s met with jeers from janitors and bartenders and sound techs alike – all people ecstatic to see their favorite person like a dog left alone during a long work day. As she greets them with the same overjoyed smiles, you slip past the jolly merriment to the dressing room in the back of the building – her outfit bag and make up suitcase in your hands, her shoes and wig in your hefty backpack. Despite the outfit you’d picked out earlier you’re donning the same outfit you’d been wearing since the techie days of middle school – black jeans, black t-shirt one size too big, and all black sneakers. All the better to blend in.

Three hours later Lucy has officially turned into Boudoir Z, her drag persona and the username for her long-abandoned Neopets account. The club is packed with people, almost as tight as her dress is with her pads, and some old Kesha song thumps the floor to its beat.

“Are you ready?” you ask, double checking her hands for any loose nails.

She grins as wide as she does right before every show, eyes bright and sparkling like a child on Christmas. “Hell yeah.”

As her intro song starts you scurry away to find your way to the bar, hoping to grab something strong before the show really starts. You don’t really like attending your friend’s (or anyone’s) drag shows, they’re loud and crowded and normally that’s your definition of Hell. Sometimes, though, you can muster up the energy. For whatever reason, today seems to be one of those days. Or nights.

Whatever. Time is an illusion.

The first few beats of the song are long, edited for artificial pauses to build excitement in the crowd. You know the version of Lady Gaga’s Applause well, so it throws your entire brain through a loop when someone pumps into you when you try and grab your rum and coke.

“Sorry,” the guy hisses, immediately moving to make sure he didn’t spill any of his wine cooler on you. You’re about to brush him off, thinking he’s just another guy trying to cop a feel while the main attraction distracts from any protective butches within eye shot. But when you notice he’s carefully avoiding your chest – and pulling away when he notices the lack of dampness on your sternum – you allow yourself to give him a half glance at the brick wall of a man in front of you.

God, you’re so ashamed you noticed that. You’re also ashamed to notice his thick thighs, massive arms, silver hand with black lining, his perfectly mused brown-black hair, and beautiful scruff.

“H-hi,” you stutter, deep exhale one close to dramatic women in movies when they think they’ve seen God. Good luck ladies, I’ve already found him – he’s in the shadiest gay bar in NYC. you think as he shyly smiles at you with cheeks you want to shove between your thighs and lips you want attached to your-

“I’m so sorry,” he tells you, checking again to make sure he didn’t turn your shirt into a bar tap. “I got distracted by-“

You sigh. Of course, he was looking at Lucy. “It’s fine, really, I promise.”

In a brief pause between songs, you two lock eyes. Grey-green ones meet your own and fuck, he’s so dreamy.

“I’m,” he seems hesitant to introduce himself. “Bucky. Name’s Bucky.”

You murmur your own name while looking him up and down again. Black combat boots perfectly shined, black jeans tight enough to rival your own, and black hoodie thick enough for winter in Upstate Main.

“Aren’t you hot?” you blurt, alcohol loosening your brain’s tight grip on your thoughts.

The man, Bucky, shrugs. “I run pretty cold.”

Another few moments of silence dialogue between you two - and judging by his set jaw and the hungry look in his eyes he’s thinking the same thing you are.

But, if you’re anything besides an introverted stylist, seamstress, and occasional therapist for the person up on the stage…it’s a tease.

You lean towards Bucky’s ear, music starting up again. “Wanna come join me close to the stage?”

He smiles, picking his drink back up. “Sure thing.”

Lucy, as always, is dressed to impress. Or scare small children.

Either way one perceives her, she’s killing it.

The large, sheer nightgown’s puffed sleeves make the look even more dramatic. The black contrasts extremely nicely with her large platinum blonde hair, and combined with her large, maroon lips and thick, pointed eyeliner - it’s a nice reminder that drag is both an art and something weird as hell. Watching your best friend to what they love and truly one of the best experiences of your life.

The pair of you are off stage left, Lucy on the other side grinding on some speakers. As some Nicki Minaj song plays, you can feel Bucky bounce to the beat behind you. He’s got a surprising amount of rhythm, and as your hips sync his body presses closer and closer to your own. It doesn’t take long, maybe half a chorus for it to turn into full-on grinding, your ass pressed into his crotch so hard you’re worried he’s going to be bruised when he wakes up tomorrow.

Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, though, nipping at the outer shell of your ear with his lips pressed into the tender skin.

“You do this kind of thing often?” he asks, already deep voice now at a low growl.

You shake your head, moving to take another sip of your drink before answering. “Not really, but Lucy is my best friend so sometimes I get dragged,” you snort a little at your unintentional pun. “To shows and stuff.”

Bucky snickers a little. “That’s totally not what I was asking about, but you also don’t seem like the person who’d be friends with Boudoir Z.”

Your cheeks immediately heat hotter than the Equator as you attempt to backpedal. After a few seconds of stammering, though, the liquid courage surging through your veins comes to a head. “Can I suck your dick?”

You turn to face the man behind you, who seems just as surprised at your inquiry as you are. Still, with his eyebrows raised to his hairlines and his eyes wide, he agrees. “Fuck yeah, lead the way.”

The bathrooms here are surprisingly clean, even if the lock of the door doesn’t quite work. But, judging by the second Pink song of the night, you’ve got awhile before the masses become unoccupied and their bladders realize how much alcohol they’ve consumed.

He shoves you against the tiled wall, lips plush and a stark contrast to his scratchy beard. You want it between your thighs, you sigh into his mouth and a wave of heat rolls through your center. But that’ll have to wait for another time.

Locating his zipper as you kiss him is hard, but not impossible, and soon you’re able to free his cock from its painful confines. Bucky gasps at the rush of cold air, a sound that turns into a deep moan when you wrap an eager hand around him. Maybe some other time, some other night when you’re not fueled purely by endorphins, caffeine, and several glasses of bottom-shelf alcohol, you’d do some foreplay, maybe some dirty talk.

Now, though, your mouth waters at the sign of his hard length, and before Bucky can even get a good grip on your hair you’re spitting on him before taking him as far as your throat permits. He moans deep and guttural, jaw going slack and head leaning against the wall. One of his hands feels cool on your head and it’s nearly sobering, how the freezing material feels against the fire dancing across your skin. You’d question the (seemingly) nonhuman appendage, but the progressive soaking of your underwear and his cursing brings your focus to a pinpoint.

Every single one of his “oh fuck”s and “oh baby that feels so good”s drive you to take him harder, faster, and all too soon Bucky’s getting the message and fucking into your throat. Spit falls from your jaw to between your knees, some slick reminder of how gross this is. That only pushes you, though, to wrap a hand around his base with the other massaging his balls.

“Fuck I’m gonna come,” he moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as both hands wrap around him. “Gonna fucking come down your throat, fuck.”

Fuck yes he is, you think, shoving him back down your throat one last time before the grip on your scalp gets impossibly tight and his thrusts suddenly still and his lets out the deepest, most erotic noise you’ve ever heard in your entire fucking life. The salty taste of him rolls down your tongue and down your throat, his whole body tense as he shoots his load into your mouth.

The second he releases your hair you fall back against the sink, air you’re gulping tainted with the taste of Bucky’s cum. He seems stunned, a little out of it, but still offers to reciprocate. It’s then you realize that Patti LaBelle is playing, and if you’re remembering the song correctly, you’ve got thirty seconds to be backstage and ready to help your best friend get de-dragged.

“Fuck, I gotta go,” you hiss, splashing cold water on your face and trying to calm your ragged breaths. Just before you can open the bathroom door, though, Bucky stops you.

“Wait, just,” he huffs, digging in his pockets for something. Quickly he produces a phone, and he hands it you with the “new contact screen” on it. “Please, give me your number.”

It’s obvious he’s the stronger of both of you, so you slam your fingers on the cracked screen to string together your phone number. It seems the man’s satisfied, because he releases the ajar door from your grip and lets you flee backstage. Lucy comes off just in time for you to meet her, ready with make up wipes and chapstick. Instead of taking both from you, though, she brushes past you to grab at a bottle of water – a surefire sign she’s not done.

You begin to protest, knowing she’s too drunk to lip sync to choral music, let alone her traditional encore playlist. But she waves you off.

“I’m just going to meet some people at the bar take some pics,” Lucy downs the entire 32 ounces of water in record time, barely getting any lipstick on the mouth of the thing. “Don’t worry, just…I don’t know,” she rolls her eyes at her own inability to speak. “Go kill a Westboro Baptist Church member or something, alright? Just…” she hiccups and starts to lean to the right, but adjusts herself before you can do anything. You steady her with a hand on her shoulder, and she lowers her face to yours and juts her lower lip out to pout. “Just wait up for me, okay. I don’t think I can find my way home alone.”

Before you can respond she pushes past you and into the screaming crowd, her shouts and shrieks almost as loud. A quick scan of the dimly-lit bar reveals no Bucky, and without his number you’re stuck putting her reveals back together and unused the unused supplies.

At the end of the night you meet Lucy back where you left her – only this time in black leggings and a purple NARAL shirt shirt three-sizes too big. As she wipes away at the thick cosmetic mask with a dirty make up wipe, your eyes meet hers in the mirror.

“I saw you with some guy tonight,” a smirk paints her lips as heat paints your cheeks. “Did anything happen?”

You bite at your bottom lip, hoping she won’t press further. Luckily, she remains covert, just giving you a once over before speaking again.

“Are you gonna run off with him and abandon me to do all my drag shit by myself?” She asks. Lucy’s tone is playful, but you can tell there’s a hint of seriousness to it.

You shake your head, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear and tucking your hands into your jean pockets. “C’mon, you know I’d never do that. You’re my best friend. How could I put anyone before you?”

Lucy turns around and smiles, perfectly white teeth especially pearly surrounded by the smudged deep purple lipstick and thick, black eyeshadow, a misplaced lash, and what looks to be a twenty-dollar bill stuck behind her ear due to excess wig glue. “Good, because there’s no way I could do Boudoir Z without you.”

Silence settles over both of you as she wipes off the rest of her make up (and pulls out the cash stuck in her hair and to her neck). The only sounds are her throwing loose powders and eye shadow into her make up suitcase and, soon, your phone vibrating in your back pocket. On the screen flashes a text from an unknown number, Bucky you think, and then another right after.

wanna see you again

when are you free

You smile at the screen, giddy like a middle schooler being asked out by her crush. “Hey, Luce…” you wait until she’s facing you to continue. “When’s your next show?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #lanis2ndmysteriouswritingchallenge #like idk what came over me but...#im not ashamed and refuse to be #lukis writes stuff #i finished this in less than an afternoon #like i wrote 2k so quick wtf

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