#he could have led a MUCH different life if he never met ford | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mycartoonmonster · 4 months ago

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And one of my fav parts is that its implied to not have been one sided on both parts as well as the ending.

In Ford's POV, he was lonely and deep down craved connections and then finally met someone who was so similar to him and could give him what he truly craved as well as helping him solve the mystery of Gravity Falls. Bill was his sun (not kidding that's what Ford calls him in the book) that enriched his life.

In Bill's POV he was the only mortal who came the closest to building the portal and its obvious that he grew too attached to Ford throughout the 9 years of friendship they had, no matter how much he denies it by referring to him as his pet or tool. Heck, Bill wanted Ford to tattoo himself a code that translated said "If lost return to Bill" (Also the +18 innuendos).

Also I think they had the chance to work it out and had the tools to make it work but couldn't

Both have very similar backstories which also heavily affected their relationship with eachother.

Both were born with a genetic mutation that led them to be outcasts and octrasized by the people around them and seem to be closer to their mom than their dad.

But Ford didn't have it as bad as Bill did.

Its heavily implied that Bill despite being loved as a baby, that love dissappeared as he grew up and everyone around him saw Bill as a freak. Bill lacked friends and his parents, even if well intentioned, wanted to turn him "normal" by basically poisoning him. Growing up knowing you're different and everyone judging you and your family for it can mess you up.

And if Euclydia is similar to Flatland; Bill's family was already looked down upon due to being triangles.

All that made Bill start to brew hatred towards his home dimension and its people. And on a minor scale towards his family for not letting himself express. But he still didn't mean to do what he did. He just didn't have anyone to rely on.

Ford, while also being a victim of bullying, at least had Stanley by his side and managed to be friends with Fiddleford in his late teens/early adulthood.

Fildbrick at the very least cared enough to sign his kids for boxing lessons which worked for Stan and Ford when he was stuck between dimensions. And both him and Caryn never forced them to be normal.

That's not to say Fildbrick's parenting didn't mess him up at all; his scientific knowledge was only impressive to Fildbrick if it could give them financial gain, Bill even states Ford wouldn't be welcomed back home by his dad if he didn't have millions. Basically Fildbrick made his kids believe they were only worthy of love and acceptance if they managed to get money/be succesfull and both Fildbrick and Caryn (the latter on a lower scale but still responsible) kinda created Ford's need for recognition and ego and its people who go through abuse the ones who are more likely to end up in toxic and abusive relationships cause they're familiar with it(Heck, Stanley's last words were "Guess I was good for somethin' after all" and like I mentioned previously, it wouldn't surprise me that due to this type of pressure, Shermie left home as soon as he could to live for himself and not be influenced by his dad's ambitions anymore; that could explain why he's the only one of his brothers that seemed to be lucky in life as he managed to get a wife, a kid and two grandkids)

They were freaks who didnt fit in their homes and both of them finally had someone that not only listened but respected them (another thing to point out is that Bill uses his symbol as a nickname rather than mocking him with it or adressing him as a lower being like he does with Dipper and Mabel on a few occasions). Also both were rather egocentric and had a thirst for revenge and proving everyone around that they were wrong about them in the first place.

No wonder they got along so well.

The henchmaniacs were more like henchmen who obeyed their boss aka Bill and when we see them in Weirdmageddon Bill doesn't socialize that much with them and we see that he's not above harming them when hes mad/upset and in the deleted storyboards we see how he treats them. Its more like that gang of friends that just like you cause they can get something from you but when they cant anymore, they will not stick up their necks for you. They were just there for the party and not Bill.

Also Ford was the ony who Bill confessed to what happened with his dimension, while he lied to his henchmaniacs.

But Ford and Bill were eachother's best friend (even if Bill denies that Ford ever meant anything to him)

Hence the betrayal hurt so much.

Ford did so much for someone who only took advantage of him. The closest thing he had to a true friend spent all those years lying and using him. And it was thanks to his manipulations, Ford was blind to Fiddleford's worries and feelings which ended up pushing McGucket away after a 10 year long friendship (also its heavily implied McGucket was pining heavily on Ford, which is why he put up with so much despite all the dangers they went through). Ford was wrapped around Bill´s finger and eating out of his palm and Ford didnt even realized.

Not to mention the phsycological torture Bill made Ford go through; not just using his body for acts of petty revenge but also harming him and leaving Ford very close to the brink of death just so he could reactivate the portal.

All that led to the Ford we see in the flashback of A Tale of Two Stans, paranoid and scared for his life and Bill's plans.

And to prevent them, Ford spent 30 years planning to kill the monster he onced called his Muse not only for his sake but for the multiverse's. Heck, going so far as installing a metal plate on his head so he couldn't torment him that way anymore.

And Bill suffered from it too. He missed Ford and did not take the fallout well. He even went to drink his sorrows away and cried when he was told that they didn't have "one Sixer" there (and then blew the place up in a massacre).

And when Ford crossed the portal, Bill ordered his henchmaniacs to bring Ford to him,alive, in exchange of their own universe. With the context the book provides it seems to be the case that Bill would have kept Ford around even after the betrayal. He grew attached to him, hence he wants Sixer to be brought to him alive; maybe to have the face to face concersation surrounding the portal and the apocalypse that follows.

And even after Ford failed to kill him, Bill didn't seem to care that much (he does keep him suspended in the air unable to move after shooting him before giving him the chance to join his henchmaniacs and limits his movements by chaining him in the Fear-ramid before talking about the barrier though) went back to pestering him but also being so glad he came back, as seen in him sounding so happy when saying "My old pal", leaning over his shoulder, ruffling his hair and flipping his nose. He may no longer be able to posses him via mind nor mess with his neurons but he can still torment him via dreams.

Look at how happy he looks while Ford is clearly pissed off

But still he delivers his threath; Weirdmageddon will happen one way or another.

And while Bill is not over it, Ford looks back and feels nothing but shame and guilt regarding his relationship with Bill, like every other person who has gone through toxic relationships and felt bad for not seeing the signs and being stupid enough to fell for the flattery, the sweet nothings and promises. Which is why he doesn't tell anyone about his relationship with Bill nor the rift, cause it hurts and it would extremly embarassing to think of what his family might say about it amd about him and it would also mean recognizing he's harmed people like McGucket. Ford thinks he's protecting them by keeping quiet about it but in reality hes just protecting himself from any possible shame. Which to no one's surprise, ends up causing Weirdmageddon.

And when it finally happens, Bill instead of getting that mad at Ford for shooting him with intention to kill actually gives Ford praise for the portal and gives him the chance to join his henchmaniacs. Even going as far calling him Fordsy.

But of course, Ford refuses (in the storyboards going as far as to spit on his eye and instead of cleaning it with a snap of his fingers, Bill actually licks it. Gross and freaky and also the closest we'll ever get to a kiss between these two in canon) and instead of getting turned into regular stone, Bill turns him into gold and doesn't have him be a part of his throne, but rather keeps him by his side as a doll/prized posession (he doesn't let go of him in Pt 1 and later uses him as a bell in Pt 2 and places him in one of the arms of his throne, next to him).

And with the Book of Bill we now have better context as to why Bill keeps offering Ford chances to join him.

Bill wanted his Sixer back.

But Bill knows it wont be so easy which is why he tries seducing him with a song first (which fun fact the rats are another way into a human´s heart and Bill used that as a birthday gift for Ford) and when that fails he offers him something that in the past Ford would have accepted without thinking so much about it. But he knows better now and also loves his family which is why he refuses.

Which is why Bill sighs in disappointment at Ford's stubborness. As in 'I really hoped you'd take the smart choice but now you've forced my hand,sweetness'

Also what need was there for Bill to bring him that close?

Also Parallels

Like @ckret2 pointed out, Bill's relationship with Ford is very similar to Mabel and Gideon's; with one falling head over heels for the other, who views him as just a friend and due to his attempts for domination the other sees him as creepy and unattractive. Also both Bill and Gideon hate the sibling of the object of their affections but promise their love interest the chance to have as much power as possible if they just submit to him and become a prized possesion for them. But Gideon accepts Mabel's feelings at the end and decides to let her go but Bill is far more toxic than the chemicals Marie Curie accidently poisoned herself with and refuses to give Ford that chance. It's either Billy or nothing, and Bill would do whatever it takes for his goals even if it means hurting Ford. Or other people Ford cares about.

And then comes the Pines plan and although Ford's more sad over his brother, someone pointed out that this wasn't just killing his brother but his old friend as well, even if what they had was toxic you can't help feeling sad over a toxic relationship ending cause not everything was bad and even Ford states that Bill was to him like a sun in his life at one point. And in this scene he's basically lost the persons that affect most his life.

And after they find about Bill and him, Ford's family doesn't judge him and laugh at Bill's expense instead; he's got a family that loves and supports him. And he can improve for the better.

But Bill doesn't. He's alone and stuck with the consequences of his actions. He's pushed everyone away (His parents are still dead alongside his entire home-there's the possiblity the last atom vaporized with Ford's quantum distabilizer-Ford is finally free and doesn't need him anymore since hes got his family and the Henchmaniacs dont seem that worried about Bill, they have a home now and dont want him back as we saw in Lost Legends) and refuses to recognize he's hurt by his past and get better.

And as much as Id like to Ford to confront him and tell Bill whats what in person Im fine with this ending. Its perfect justice and karma.

Ford is doing better and finally healing while Bill is doing worse.

And that's beautifull.

as funny as everything is, i really am genuinely impressed and honestly really grateful for how bill and ford's relationship is depicted. it's rare to have an abusive relationship shown in kid's media, and even rarer for one to be realistic AND be treated as unhealthy. obviously the circumstances are fantastical (possession, dream gods, etc.) but the abuse in the relationship is honestly very realistic. like the things that bill does to ford- threatening to leave him for another, blaming him for the things that bill does to him, isolating him from his friends and family, making him heavily dependent on bill- these are all genuine tactics used in abusive relationships and i guess i'm just really grateful and happy to not only see this depiction, but to see ford healing from it. that he's finally able to break away from it, to tell his family about it and have them support him. that is just such a wonderful thing and i love it.

#gravity falls #book of bill spoilers #billford #ford #bill cipher

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gingersnappe-9 · 3 years ago

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Quisiera: Growing Pains (2)

Javier Peña / F!Reader; Post Narcos

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Summary: You have a lot on your mind. You never expected Javi to be one of them. But that's nothing a good soak can't fix, right?

Warnings: mention of loss of parent & degenerative diseases, minor depictions of sexual thoughts, minor profanity

A/N: because I'm a major dork, and no one asked, I created the floor plan for the reader's house and my friend @followwhereshegoes designed it in Sims for me. The photos are at the end of the chapter. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Your hair blew in the wind as you drove your work-beaten Ford F-250 home. Papers from a long day of checking up on animals and livestock fluttered beneath your now empty thermos for coffee. Your head bobbed with the familiar bumps and turns of the road as you drove home. The ride wasn’t unlike it had been any other day, but as you pulled into your driveway and peaked to the left and you knew he would be there. You had known for a few weeks now that Javi had been back. On a courtesy visit for Don Jesús -- Javi’s dad -- he had mentioned his son might be returning to Texas soon. That had to have been roughly two, maybe three months ago?

You never thought you would see him again. The kid who always thought he knew best. The one who was so sure of himself and that the world was his oyster. You weren’t surprised that he didn’t recognize you though. That was Javi you grew up with. This Javier was different. It was plain to see that he carried a weight with him. Knowing the things he knew, holding on to whatever he’d done in the back of his mind now and forever. He wasn’t the bright and shiny version of Javi you once knew, but he was still as golden as ever.

As you hopped out of the car and twirled the keys on your finger, you were beyond satisfied at your decision to postpone your reunion with Javi. Crossing the threshold of your house you recalled how panicked he looked. The quick flashes of “oh shit” in his eyes before he masked his uncertainty with precision and a charming smile. To others, he played it off fine, but you knew Javi before he was Agent Peña. You’d practically grown up with him so you were privy to those subtle tells.

Javi’s abuelos moved to be closer to their son and his family. His grandparents and your parents met in English class after they moved to America and the families stayed close ever since. Javi’s family was from Mexico, and yours came from Colombia. Each of your tíos and tías helped watch and raise you and your primos. While most of your blood relatives were still in Colombia, you loved your found family here in the States. All of the birthdays spent in one another’s backyards with copious amounts of candy that came pouring out of piñatas. Big Christmas gatherings with mountains of food like ponche, pozole verde, and dulcitos like your favorite manjar blanco. Above all, you remember the laughter.

You laughed so much as a child. Someone could look at you in such a way and you would have burst out into a fit of giggles and happy squeals. It was a bittersweet thing to recall. Things were just… different now. You grew up. Life changed, you certainly had.

This was the home your parents had built not too long after they came to America. You still felt like a little kid playing house sometimes. Being the sole occupant felt strange after the years you spent growing up with the place bursting with laughter, people, and above all love. But life changed. Your mother had died of a heart attack the year before you finished vet school. Ten years back, your father was diagnosed with early onset dementia and it was left to you to make the hard decision of placing him in a nursing home. You couldn’t care for him with the hours you worked at the clinic, and you didn’t think your heart could bear seeing the man you admired slowly fade away. It made you feel awful to admit, but there was only so much a heart could take. It could’ve been different if you still had your mamá, but it was just you.

Your body hitched a bit as you bent over to pull the dirt caked boots off your feet. Growing up is fun, they said. They never mentioned anything about rapid onset aches and pains once you passed thirty. You loved being a vet, you loved taking care of horses and all manner of livestock; being there for the folks who relied on you, but man alive was it taxing on the body.

As you padded your way into the study just to the left of the front door, you dropped the excess paperwork and lunch pale on your desk; your boots onto the old mat so as to not spread anymore dirt in the house. Trying your best to properly file away your paperwork, billing receipts and lists of future visits, you found your mind wandering back to Javier.

The wonderful way his bone structure had sharpened with age. Yeah he was a good looking teenage boy -- a bit on the thin side, but strong in body and mind -- but this version of Javi was a stud. His skin was naturally tanner than some, but it was even more bronzed by the sun from his time down in Colombia. A man with strong looking hands that wrapped the circumference of the tumbler glass filled with neat whiskey meanwhile yours could only manage to get around halfway. You were extremely annoyed at how he could pull off a damn mustache without looking like a creep. Finding that you were spending far too much time thinking about Javier Peña rather than getting your ass ready for bed, you set off on your nightly routine.

Pushing yourself up and out of the desk chair was more tiresome than you would have liked to admit, but not impossible. You then opened the door that led into your bedroom. It still felt a bit weird to call it your bedroom after all this time.

You had redecorated the place to your tastes. The main bedroom now had a beautiful four post bed with pleated gossamer drapes around the posts. The warm wood bureau and doors matched the deep trim of the window sills and frames throughout the house. You removed your everyday jewelry and placed them in the little wooden dishes you had bought in Colombia the last time you visited. You had just turned twenty two then, and didn’t care to remember how old you were now. Admiring the fine artistry of the delicately carved lines and lacquered scenery of a village always brought back fine memories, summers spent in a home away from home. Peeling off your work clothes proved a bit more challenging now that your muscles and bones had started to stiffen from the wear of the workday. You walked into your bathroom as naked as the day you were born, a small perk of having moved into the main bedroom since it had an ensuite bathroom.

After the long day, a shower just didn’t seem like it was going to cut it. You pivoted to the left and began to draw a steaming hot bath. A few drops of essential oil were splashed into the piping hot water. Your abuelita did always say, “Medicina cuando la necesita, pero los remedios naturales siempre son los mejores.”

Medicine when you need it, but natural remedies are always best.

Once the tub was filled as high as it could go and still accommodate your body, the taps were shut off, and you slipped into the warm bliss. The water worked its magic while you turned on a small radio that sat on the windowsill. It was tuned in to some station based in Mexico that always played música rancheras. You were a self-proclaimed “old soul” and loved your parents' generational music. It was a not-so-guilty-pleasure for you. Even when you were younger, some of the other kids made fun of you for not liking the more modern music. But your mom always reassured you it was because you were un romántico. A romantic.

The soulful melodies and elegant guitar echoed through the steam from the bath as your aches and pains were softly pulled from your bones. The sky outside the window was a dusty pink muddled with orange. The heat from the bath was wonderful. Your mind wandered ever farther as you sunk deeper into relaxation. Tonight was one of those evenings you imagined someone else in the tub with you, it was one of the reasons you’d thrown in a couple extra bucks when you redid the bathroom. You imagined leaning against their chest, them running their hands up and down the inner part of your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you wanted their touch the most.

Big and strong hands. Ones that weren’t afraid to leave an imprint, a reminder of their presence. Your cheeks flushed at the thought of them gently pressing and squeezing into your thighs, chest, and hips. The fantasy completed itself when you put a face to this mystery man.

Warm brown eyes, a well-defined jaw, somewhat pouty lips that practically begged you to kiss them with a fucking mustache of all things. You imagined the sound of his voice right next to your ear, whispering dirty things while he continued to paw at your body with confidence. The fresh recall of your most recent conversation made the day dream seem all the more real. It was intimate, enticing. You hadn't had any real boyfriend in a while and with the luscious way the water lapped over your skin, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together unconsciously as his conjured words echoed in your mind.

You feel so soft, Armorsita. Do you like when I touch you here, baby? Oh, you do. I can tell. Mi dama. Tell me. Tell me how much you like it, how much you love being mine. Let me have you, all of you. Let me show you just how much I love touching you right…

Your mind snapped back when your head slipped from its perch on the back of the tub. The room felt steamier than it had before even as the water temperature had dipped to lukewarm.

Was I really just fantasizing about Javier Peña of all people?

It was official then. You needed to get into bed and sleep off whatever delusions these were and come back to reality.

Fully washed and dried, you finished your routine by lathering yourself in your favorite lavender body lotion. Your body felt much better without the thin layer of Texas dust smothering your skin. Something different, however, clouded your mind, or rather, someone. It was a bit alarming how easily Javier permeated your idle thoughts. The encounter suddenly became very clear.

Why did you say goodnight as sultry as you did? Was that even sultry? Why do I keep thinking about it being “sultry”?

Your mind recalled the brief moment your lips touched his cheek. It wasn’t unlike any other time you kissed a friend goodbye. You’d been doing it forever. It was how you said goodbye. You knew that, and so did he. So why did it carve out its own special place in your mind? Why were the sensations so clear and vidid? Why did you so badly want to do it again and again without pause?

Of course your mind would fixate on the person who had just recently come back into your life. It was only natural. Humans are designed to notice differences. It’s a survival technique. To pay attention to possible threats. And you had yet to make up your mind if you considered this version of Javier Peña a friend or foe.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @betti-book @mcueveryday @athalien

#pedro pascal characters #narcos au #narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier peña

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oasis-wasteland · 3 years ago

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Dream Show Challenge 2.0

The RBACL Dream Show Creator Challenge 2.0 where we were given someone’s dream show 1.0 cast ( @singledarkshade‘s) and asked to create a new show with them.

Unlucky Number 7

Cast list

Beth Jean Riesgraf

Donald Glover

Roy Scheider recast with Kenneth Choi

Maggie Lawson

Arthur Darvill

Allison Scagliotti

Harrison Ford

Summary

Thirty years ago, for reasons unidentified, time stopped, throwing the world into chaos and darkness. They called it the Freeze. Seven organisations around the globe rose to power taking control and enforcing order and law on the world once again.

Charlie Carter was a simple bartender trying to enjoy an eternity with her new family when the death of her mother brought her back home, only to discover her younger brother had gone missing.

With the help of others, she sets out to unravel a mystery and find her brother, which leads her to a journey much bigger than she ever anticipated.

Don’t think too deeply about the logistics here, just roll with the punches.

People stopped aging when time stopped, but they can still get sick and die.

In season 2, Charlie and her family have to face the rebel group and convince her brother to leave them, the difference in ideologies splits the team in half, but by the end they unite and alley themselves with the rebel when one of the organisations manages to capture Anthony.

Many seasons in between to bring down the seven organisations with the help and coordination of rebel groups around the world.

At the very end of the show, when the anomaly is resolved and the clocks start, we see the main cast (original and new) gather to watch the sun rise for the first time in years. The show ends on their silhouettes as the sun washes out the screen into white.

Episode Descriptions under the cut:

Dawn

The death of her mother pulls Charlie out of her quiet life, and she is forced to return home and face the family she walked away from years ago. Accompanied by her closest friends for support, she heads back home for the funeral. She soon realises many things have changed since she’s been gone and was sure something must be wrong when her brother (their parents’ favourite) doesn’t show up to the funeral.

New Day

Charlie attempts to track down her brother’s whereabouts and learns about his complicated life and history. No one in her hometown seems to know what happened to him after the Freeze, but they point her to the one man who could. Charlie and co. invite themselves to a fundraiser by offering the skills of Andrea so they can have a word with Thomas Buchanan. Their plans are derailed when the announcement of his taking over of Aegean Corp. (One of the Seven) causes a clash among some guests.

Dusk

After a lot of efforts, Charlie finally has an address to follow, only to lead her to an empty apartment. Most of the neighbours never heard of Anthony except one who told them he hadn’t been around for a long while and points them to their landlord who might know something. Andrea gets excited when they find out the landlord is Kevin Winter, until he tells them he’d been looking for Anthony for fifteen years.

Buchanan quickly grows suspicious of Aegean and the reason the board chose him for the job. But he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity either way.

Midnight

Andrea joins Kevin as they chase some leads to locate Anthony’s psychiatrist while Charlie and James look for another way to talk to Buchanan. We follow the events of Dr. Brown’s life, watch Anthony grow erratic with each session they have, eventually lead to the confrontation with Andrea and Kevin. Charlie and James finally get to meet with Buchanan.

Yesterday

Buchanan tells the story of how he met Anthony and their work together over the course of twenty years and the eventual fallout which led to Anthony’s drastic move. Charlie gets the impression she’s only receiving the polished half of the story. Andrea and Kevin get a similar impression from Dr. Brown and decide to follow her for a day.

Dead of Night

James takes Charlie out on a trip as a break when he notices the situation with her brother was upsetting her more than he anticipated. She tells him about her childhood and the reason she never told anyone she had a brother. They reminisce about their first meeting and early relationship, Charlie realises James might still have hopes for them.

Daybreak

Kevin and Andrea get themselves into trouble when they follow Dr. Brown to Aegean Corp. and into bigger trouble getting out of it. They find themselves trapped and take the time to bond, especially over the many suspicious skills Andrea demonstrated. On the plus side, they learn a few things from their stunt and might have big lead regarding Anthony.

Mayday

A confrontation with Dr. Brown reveals a rebel group looking to bring back life to how it was before the Freeze and take down the Seven. Dr. Brown helps Charlie meet with her brother who’s been kept under lock and key by the rebels to protect him from the Seven. When they finally meet, Anthony catches her up on the major events that lead him there and reveals the reason he must be protected; he caused the Freeze.

#RBACL Dream Show #Dream Show Challenge

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busterkeatonfanfic · 3 years ago

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Chapter 31 Part I

Buster tried his darnedest to get her a date for the party. He first suggested John Barrymore, apparently forgetting (or not caring) that Barrymore had once been his greatest rival for her affection. Nelly’s opinion of him hadn’t changed since Tempest; hanging onto the arm of a crude drunk all night was not her idea of a good time. She said no. He next suggested Buster Collier. She’d never met him, but he’d been in so many pictures that she knew his face well, though she couldn’t say what the films had been about. Buster Collier had been going with Constance Talmadge until recently. The break-up wasn’t personal; Buster told her the two were still friends.

“Certainly not, then,” said Nelly. “She’ll want to know who I am, how he met me—no. She’ll know something’s fishy.”

The suggestion of Charlie Chaplin followed. She gave more consideration to it. Charlie was charming and easy to talk to. In the end, he was out of the question given the many rumors about his sexual excesses and questionable behavior with women. She didn’t think it was a wise idea and Buster had to agree. The two were friendly but not pals, and he admitted he didn’t know how far to trust Charlie either. In desperation, he floated the idea of his brother, Jingles.

“Are you kidding?” she said. Buster had told her enough about his family that she’d gotten a pretty good picture of Jingles, who lacked his big brother’s confidence in all areas of life and was a hopeless failure with women. “No one will believe that for a second.”

“Well, I’m out of ideas,” said Buster, sounding annoyed on the other end of the phone.

“Let me ask Bradford. He was my dance partner for Tempest. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t go for girls, anyway, so he’d be perfect.”

Nelly didn’t know that her proposition was any better than Buster’s. To his guests, Buster had treated her presence at his party in October as no big curiosity, a matter of course, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d say now to them now, what he’d say if Natalie in particular asked why he’d invited two big nobodies like her and Bradford. Natalie might rightfully wonder why they among hundreds of aspiring actors were there. Buster’s quick mind would probably come up with an explanation that passed muster, but Nelly worried. He’d mentioned once, an offhand comment that was far more significant to her than it was him, that Natalie had fits of jealousy over him. Nelly’s instincts told her that attending the party was a bad idea, that she’d be too much temptation to Buster and he’d give their affair away with a look or a word or, worse still, a tender caress. Regardless, she couldn’t refuse even if she’d wanted to. He’d hinted about a birthday surprise and she couldn’t let him down, not to mention she was dying to know what he’d cooked up. Aside from the tabletop phonograph and occasional record, he’d stuck to his promise not to shower her in gifts and she knew he wasn’t about to present her with something in front of his wife and guests.

Uneasiness gnawing, she directed Bradford to the Villa at dusk on Friday night. He was just as keen as she was to break into pictures, so he’d agreed to drive her to the party and be her date without hesitation, especially after she explained she only wanted to go as friends. He’d gotten a minor role in the newest D.W. Griffith, the picture she’d tried out unsuccessfully for, and was happy to tell her about it while they drove, far less stoic than he’d been with her on previous occasions. His chattiness, she guessed, was due to his eagerness to meet and charm as many stars as possible and he was having trouble controlling his excitement. As Bradford recalled how he’d spoken briefly to Griffith on the set earlier in the week, she wondered, as she’d been wondering lately, about her career path in Hollywood. There were murmurs at the United Artists canteen about a Mary Pickford talkie with Sam Taylor directing, not Shakespeare. It gave her mixed feelings. On the one hand, maybe Mr. Taylor had forgotten about directing Pickford and Fairbanks in The Taming of the Shrew. On the other, she’d been relegated to the prop house for Lady of the Pavements, the new Griffith. A niggling fear had begun to creep on her, that her much more mundane talents at management and organization were impeding her career as an actress.

As the long white drive of the Villa became visible in the distance, she asked Bradford the question she’d been dreading, knowing he’d have his own questions in turn. “When we get there, would you pretend like we’re going together?” she said.

“Pretend like we’re going together?” said Bradford.

“Yes,” she said, running her fingers over the thin chain-metal handle of her handbag. “Just, you know, hold my hand or put your arm around my waist while we’re there. Dance with me more than the other fellows. Maybe a kiss on the cheek once and awhile, that kind of stuff.”

“I’ll do it if you really want me to, but why?” he said, sounding mystified.

Nelly weighed whether to tell him the truth and decided she didn’t have a choice. “I’m seeing someone who’s going to be there and I don’t want his wife to get suspicious,” she said, being careful with her words.

Bradford chuckled. “Now I get it. I was wondering why you asked me of all people.”

She felt defensive. “You’re the closest I have to a friend, a friend who’s a fellow. I’ve been too busy to get to know very many people. It’ll be no different than if you were acting.”

“Relax,” he said, leaning over to elbow her in a friendly way. “You think I’d miss this? I don’t care what you want me there for, frankly. I’m at your beck and call.”

Her shoulders relaxed; she hadn’t been aware that she was clenching them. “Thank you,” she said. “I do like you just fine, I just didn’t know who else to invite. You’re the first fellow who came to mind.”

“Relax,” said Bradford again. He continued talking amiably as his Ford crept up the Villa drive. He wanted to know how she knew Buster and she reminded him of her involvement with Steamboat. “When’s that coming out, anyhow?” he said.

“Any day now from what I’m told,” she said, her mind only half on the conversation. Butterflies tickled her abdomen from the inside.

The circle drive with the fountain in the center was ringed with expensive cars, Packards, Rolls Royces, and Lincolns. There was a man leading a woman wrapped in a white fur stole up the steps and into the house. Bradford grinned like a little boy as he drank it all in. He helped her out of the Ford which was dismally out of place, but there was no sense in worrying about it now. She reminded herself that she was an actress and could every bit pretend to be a person who belonged to the ranks of the stars. With this in mind, she ascended the steps with her arm hooked in Bradford’s elbow and let him open the door for her. “Thank you darling,” she said, practicing that acting as he took her arm again. She hoped that the figure dressed in the beaded navy-blue dress and standing beyond the vestibule had heard it. Natalie was greeting the guests ahead of them. Seeing her, Nelly felt a little on the faint side. She’d rented her dress at Carmela’s again, this one $25 and less eye-catching. It was sleeveless and of bright purple damask. It had no beading or ruffles, just modest ruching around the waist. She’d accented it with her own glass amethyst pendant necklace and ivory silk stockings. She had wanted to look less noticeable, but the light in the vestibule made the satin threads in the dress dazzle and flash. She’d done a formidable job of keeping worry about her mistake with Buster at bay the past week, but Natalie’s nearness and realness brought it home. Slim though it was, a chance existed that this woman’s husband had made her pregnant. Before Nelly had time to gather her wits about her on this matter, she and Bradford were advancing to greet Natalie.

“How do you do?” said Natalie, and Nelly and Bradford echoed her.

Bradford answered Natalie’s unspoken question. “We work with Mr. Taylor at United Artists.”

Nelly could only manage a desperate smile as she took in all the flesh-and-blood details of Natalie and remembered how Buster had looked in the mirror as he’d thrust himself into her. She wondered if Natalie recognized her from the party last autumn and was relieved at the sound of the front door opening behind them and the excuse to move on from the hostess so she could greet her next guests.

“Holy mackerel,” Bradford said under his breath, as he led her into the foyer and looked around him.

Nelly took stock of who was at the party already. She saw Norma Shearer, Bebe Daniels, Marion Davies, Pickford and Fairbanks, and before her eyes had gotten any further, Buster. Her heart went at a clip at the sight of him. She’d expected him to be upstairs and make a grand entrance as he’d done at the previous party. He was wearing a smart brown suit and his hair was neatly combed, every errant strand in place. He swirled a glass of whiskey and took a sip, talking with Norma Talmadge and a dark-looking man with Spaniard features. “That must be Gilbert Roland,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Hmm?” said Bradford.

“Norma Talmadge’s boyfriend. She’s married, but everyone knows she’s seeing Gil Roland,” she said, reciting the gossip she’d heard from Buster.

“You’re back,” said someone cheerfully.

She turned and beamed when she recognized Charlie Chaplin. The sight of him reminded her how fun it was to be among the brightest stars in Hollywood and her discomfort about Natalie eased. “Hello again,” she said. She held out her hand to his extended one and he kissed it, his lips soft and cool on the back of her hand. She giggled, thinking she really would have been in trouble if she’d attended the party with him. “This is Bradford. He’s with me at United Artists.”

“Oh, that’s simply heartbreaking. Don’t tell me you’re taken!” said Charlie, his hand going to his heart.

“I’m afraid so,” she said, leaning her head on Bradford’s shoulder briefly to demonstrate. “I’ll still save a dance for you.”

“If you’d be so kind,” he said, his accent rich and irresistible. “But why haven’t I seen you at United Artists?”

Nelly smiled and squeezed Bradford’s arm. “We’re undiscovered I’m afraid, but D.W. Griffith has his eye on Bradford. They spoke just this week. Me they’re keeping locked up in the prop department right now, but just you wait.”

Charlie winked. “Well, we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we? Will you be about next week?”

She could hardly believe it. And she’d been so worried about her career. “Of course.”

“Good. It’s settled. I’ll catch you when the band starts, hmm?” he said. “Lovely to see you.” He pressed her hand and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

Her head whirled. One minute she was worried about Natalie Talmadge finding her out, the next Charlie Chaplin seemed to be promising her some sort of a future in films. And there was a band!

“Drink?” said a butler she didn’t know, stopping in front of them with a tray on which were arranged a number of delectable-looking drinks, all of oranges, deep reds, and yellowish creams.

“Thank you,” she and Bradford said, choosing drinks after a few moments’ consideration. She went for the cream-colored one.

Another butler materialized with hors d'oeuvres. She plucked up one of the bite-sized trifles and popped it in her mouth. She tasted dill and some kind of fish. Bradford sampled one too before returning to his drink. She didn’t recognize the butler. Buster must have hired help for the party. Bradford wound a hand around her shoulder. “Thanks for all this, darling,” he said. The endearment was scripted for anyone within hearing, but he meant the words.

“You’re welcome,” she said, sipping her drink. It had the flavor of pineapples, a California taste if there ever was one.

Her eyes roamed over the guests again. She recognized Constance Talmadge, Harold Lloyd, Buster Collier, John Gilbert, and Gloria Swanson. There were many men she didn’t know, some of middling looks, some downright unhandsome; those were the directors and big shots. Her gaze flickered to Buster just as he looked over at her. He gave a small, unsmiling nod and returned to his conversation. A mild pang struck her at the coldness of his acknowledgment, but she was relieved that he was being careful. She and Bradford kept to themselves, smiling and responding in kind whenever a guest nodded and said hello. She missed Louise Brooks and wished she had a girl friend to keep her company.

They were on their second drinks when attendees began to nod at each other and move in the direction of the living room. Exchanging looks, Nelly and Bradford followed. The living room, fully decorated when she’d last seen it five days ago, had been denuded of all furniture. Against the loggia on the southwest wall, a full orchestra was arrange in a suite of chairs. The members held instruments of all sizes and shapes, violins, saxophones great and small, trumpets, clarinets, a drum kit, a piano, an upright bass, even a huge tuba sitting somewhat uneasily in one man’s lap. There were at least two dozen men in the band at Nelly’s quick count, dressed alike in black tuxedos and bow ties. With the furniture and grand piano moved out, the living room was more spacious than ever.

“Why, it’s Paul Whiteman’s Orchestra!” Bradford said into her ear, voice hushed. He nudged her and flicked a finger in the direction of a fat man with a round face standing to the right of the orchestra.

Nelly was dazzled. The realization that one of her favorite bands in the room burst through her like a beam of sunshine. She couldn’t find words for her awe, but clutched for Bradford’s hand and squeezed it. The orchestra was burbling in a tuneless way as violinists tested strings and trumpets and saxophones tried out notes. A kind of restlessness pervaded the scene, musicians keen to begin, partygoers eager to dance. This went on for a few minutes until Buster threaded his way through his guests and stood facing the crowd with his back to the band.

“Nate and I want to thank you for coming tonight,” he began. “It’s an honor and a—” He looked over the crowd for a few moments as though he were thinking about what to say next. “An honor, a pleasure … you know, that kind of stuff. Anyway, I’d like you to give a hand for this gentleman and his little band here. They’re not very well-known, but if you’ll just, uh, pretend a little I’m sure it’ll make them very happy.” He straightened his tie, took one step forward, and fell on his face. There was laughter. As Buster stood up and brushed himself off, Paul Whiteman took his place. He was even less a man of words than Buster, saying only to the guests, “Thank you very much for having us tonight.” He walked to the left of the musicians and addressed them. “Gentleman …”

Two men assembled at the front of the orchestra near the upright piano. Nelly wondered for a second how they transported it from gig to gig, but forgot the question when Whiteman lifted his baton, held it in the air, and dropped it. The two men and the one at the piano began scatting a capella.

Wot-dot-dot, doh-dot, dot-dot-doh

Wot-dot-dot-dot, dot-dot-doh …

The man at the piano laid his hands on the keys just as one of the singers started in a smooth baritone, “You’ve heard of the Charleston, the Black Bottom.”

“I’ve got a rhythm that’s really got ‘em,” chimed the other singer. “It must be something new.”

“Gonna start it for you,” sang the man at the piano. It goes like, One, there it is.

His companions joined him:

One-two, there it is,

One-two-three, can’t you see where the merit is?

One-two-three-four, everywhere it is,

One-two-three-four, five steps!

At this, the snare sounded a beat and the whole orchestra burst into voice. Bradford grabbed Nelly’s hand and waist and swung her into motion. She yelped with delight. The rhythm was too fast for her to think about whether her feet were doing five steps; she just clung to Bradford and tried to keep up with the foxtrot he was leading her in. Over his shoulder, she could see that all the other dancers were smiling, Marion Davies dancing with Charlie Chaplin, Gloria Swanson paired with John Barrymore. She felt a sudden, uncanny sense of belonging as she and Bradford galloped along. A clarinet soloed, followed by a violin in a high, reedy voice like a grasshopper.

One, there it is,

One-two, there it is,

One-two-three, can’t you see where the merit is?

One-two-three-four, everywhere it is,

One-two-three-four, five steps!

One, got to learn,

One-two, got to learn,

One-two-three, there is not such a lot to learn,

One-two-three-four, aren’t you hot to learn?

One-two-three-four, five steps!

As the singers carried on, it was all Nelly could do to keep her rhythm and her breath. She was panting and laughing when the final note sounded. She and Bradford withdrew from the dancers to get a drink of punch from the bowl on the table in the foyer. As soon as their thirst was quenched, though, she took Bradford’s hand and hurried back into the room. She wasn’t going to miss a moment of the Paul Whiteman Orchestra’s set if she could help it.

The orchestra had begun a sweet, wistful melody led by trumpets. She recognized it at once as “Mary,” one of her favorites. Rather than dancing, she stood on the edge of the crowd with Bradford and watched. The trumpets piped and her heart was overfull as she soaked in the music and her surroundings with all of her might. Dancers kicked up their heels in a slower foxtrot as the full orchestra echoed the trumpets’ melody. She could have watched all the beautiful stars before her in their tuxes and brightly colored dresses, but she had eyes only for the orchestra and Whiteman’s graceful conducting. It was a marvel the way he brought different sections of the band to life with just a flick of his baton.

One of the singers stepped forward as a violin finished off the melody. He was perhaps a little taller than Buster, but slightly husky, with ears that stuck out and eyes as blue as a spring sky.

What are you waitin’ for,

What are you waitin’ for, Ma-ary?

What are you thinkin’ ‘bout,

Who are you thinkin’ ‘bout, Mary?

The bees are buzzin’,

They’re buzzin’ right in my ear,

And they keep on asking,

Hey, what’s the big idea?

He was the one with the smooth baritone like poured honey. All his notes flowed together without a single hitch. She recognized his voice from many of Whiteman’s records.

“He’s incredible,” she said, standing on tiptoes to whisper it in Bradford’s ear. He nodded in return.

Why do you lead me on,

Why do you be so con-trary?

You wouldn’t let my castles

Come tum-tum-tumblin’ down

Think of the things in store,

What are you waitin’ for, Ma-ary?

The violins concluded the melody and the brass took it up again. Her senses were filled with trumpets and the snare, then the orchestra singing as one voice.

She didn’t notice how spellbound she’d become until applause startled her back to reality. She clapped along with everyone else and the singer gave a bow and a modest smile. Bradford was bending to say something about the music when Nelly felt the cloth of a suit on the bare skin of her left shoulder. She turned to see Buster. He looked ahead, nonchalant, and her heart gave a fond trot.

“How d’ya like your birthday present?” he said quietly, still looking ahead.

“Oh, don’t kid me.” Even as she said it though, she knew in her heart of hearts that he wasn’t joking. The band was for her.

Still not looking at her, he gave the slightest of smiles. “Pretty good joke, huh?”

Her eyes welled. “I don’t know whether to kiss or kill you. You’re out of your mind and I don’t know how I’ll ever begin to thank you.” When she looked at him again, he was finally looking back, his brown eyes so affectionate she was in danger of throwing her arms around him in front of all of Hollywood, including his wife.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” he said, but his tone was curious, not suspicious.

She wiped the trace of tears from her eyes and turned to Bradford, who by then had noticed their conversation. “This is Bradford,” she said, laying a hand on his upper arm. “Bradford, this is Buster.”

“How d’you do, Mr. Keaton?” said Bradford, extending a hand. He glanced from Buster to her as they shook hands and she saw him connect the dots. Her insides went hot and cold. In hindsight, her casual introduction of Buster was a dead giveaway.

“Where’s Louise?” she said, moving on and trying not to punish herself for her mistake.

“Brooks? Or my sister? Sis is here somewhere. Probably trying to corner Ramon Novarro by the punch bowl.” He removed his cigarettes from his breast pocket and pulled one out. “Brooks, you know the score. Wife thinks there’s some funny business going on between us and if I invite her to another party I’m dead meat.”

Trying to be friendly or playing an angle, Bradford butted in. “How’s your new picture, Mr. Keaton?”

“Buster,” he said, taking a drag off the cigarette. “Going alright I guess. Can’t complain. You in pictures?”

Bradford chattered away about D.W. Griffith and Nelly looked around them briefly to see if anyone was paying attention to their interaction. None of the Talmadges were near. She spotted Natalie and Norma chatting with Douglas Fairbanks across the room. Constance was standing nearer and speaking to a man Nelly didn’t recognize, but her back was turned to them.

“Wanna dance?” said Buster, fingers curving into her elbow.

She gave an anxious glance at Bradford, worried about him overhearing, but remembered he already knew. She said in an undertone, “I don’t think we ought to. Not for a few more songs at least. You should dance with a couple other girls first.”

Buster squeezed the crook of her arm and dropped his hand. “Alright, if you say so. I’ll be back.”

Half an hour later, he had taken her advice. The band had played “I’m Coming Virginia,” “Mississippi Mud,” and “Grandma.” Her next two dances had gone to Bradford and she’d sat “Grandma” out. Buster had danced with Constance Talmadge, Bebe Daniels, and Marion Davies. The crowd of guests had gotten louder as more cocktails circulated. Nelly had accepted a third drink, but was tempering herself and had taken only a sip. The blue-eyed singer stepped forward and commanded the crowd’s attention.

“We just added this one to the repertoire. It’s from a musical they’ve got in New York right now called Present Arms. Harry and Al and me, we’ll introduce you to it,” he said in a smooth, affable voice. He smiled, showing white, even teeth and snapped his fingers at the orchestra to cue them, eyes on the audience.

She was so focused on him that she was startled when someone seized the drink from her hand. Buster walked away from her and set her drink on a side table on the periphery of the room. “Come on kid, I’ve waited long enough,” he said, setting his hand on her waist when he returned. The orchestra was in full swing, the brass section taking up a melody that the strings underscored and singing out cheerfully. A clarinet butted in every several measures, rich and mellow. Nelly had danced with Buster a dozen times in her apartment and his bungalow, but as he folded her hand into his, she remembered just their first dance at the party in October. She’d been spooked then about her changing feelings for him and nervous lest Natalie think something was afoot. Now that they were really having an affair, the dread and nervousness were like a thousand pin-pricks to her skin. She was sure it must be obvious that Buster and she were more than simply acquaintances.

Buster led her in a medium-tempo foxtrot, his eyes cast upward, as though dancing with her among all the other women was no big deal. Only his thumb massaging her palm gave him away. He smelled like aftershave and cigarettes. She tried to pay attention to the dance, the rhythm of her hips and her feet and not the sensation that every person in the room was staring at them and wondering about the girl Buster was dancing with.

He leaned in, his cheek almost resting against hers. “Loosen up,” he said in her ear.

She put her mouth by his ear in turn. “I feel like everyone’s watching us.”

He gave a calm, closed-lipped smile. “Everyone’s too busy getting ossified and cutting a rug to pay us any, baby.”

“I still don’t feel—”

“Hush,” he said. “Just enjoy yourself.”

The brassy trumpet and an oboe bantered for a while before the full orchestra cut back in.

I’m a sentimental sap that’s all

What’s the use of trying not to fall?

I have no will

Aw, you made your kill

‘Cause you took advantage of me

It was the blue-eyed singer again. In the background, the two others crooned softly. Nelly closed her eyes for a beat and watched herself as Natalie might, were she able to peer inside Nelly’s head. Buster. The Villa. The Paul Whiteman Orchestra.

I’m just like an apple on a bough

And you’re gonna shake me down somehow

So what’s the use?

You cooked my goose

‘Cause you took advantage of me

Her purple dress. A room full of stars.

I’m so hot and bothered that I don’t know

My elbow from my ear

Suffer something awful each time you go,

Much worse when you’re near

Playing billiards in Buster’s game room. Buster enclosing her in his arms on his bed.

Here I am with all my bridges burned

Just a babe in arms where you’re concerned

Buster’s lips and tongue and fingers and hands. His prick.

So lock the door and call me yours

‘Cause you took advantage of me

The shower. The down blanket and the stars sparkling over Beverly Hills. Buster’s body warm against hers.

The brass section sang out again, boisterous, confident, the strings wrapping its melody. Nelly moved her feet, scarcely conscious of the dance. Her head was still planted in the clouds when it ended and Buster’s hands let go. She couldn’t help glance around her, wondering who’d been watching. To her relief, the one person who caught her eye was Bradford, who had just let go of Marion Davies. He kissed Marion’s hand and said something in her ear that made her laugh, then walked back over to Nelly.

“Don’t make me jealous now,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“Look who’s talking!” she said, giving him the smile and all the weight of feeling she would have to Buster had she been able.

“Don’t forget your Orange Blossom,” said Buster, pressing it back in her hand. “I’ll be back for you in a little bit.” He turned away and she saw him catch John Gilbert by the arm and demand something that made Gilbert roar with laughter.

“How’d you enjoy your dance with Miss Davies?” said Nelly to Bradford.

“Oh, I expect I’ll be playing the lead in her next picture,” Bradford said, winking to show that his boast wasn’t serious. “How was your dance with Mr. Keaton?”

“He dances well,” she said, playing along.

A cool hand on her arm made her turn. Nelly blanched when she saw who it was.

“Have we met?” said the blonde woman, her smile warm.

“I don’t believe so. You’re Constance Talmadge.”

Constance smiled. She had a small, prim mouth outlined in a rose-colored lipstick. Her hair was waved and golden, her throat sparkling with a sapphire and diamond choker.

One of the singers was singing, “Baby face, you’ve got the cutest little baby face …”

“That’s right. And you?” said Constance.

Nelly reminded herself that she could act with the best of them. She put a hand on Bradford’s back. “Bradford and I work with Mr. Taylor at United Artists.”

“I’m in the new D.W. Griffith,” Bradford offered.

“Oh, that’s fine,” said Constance, sounding interested. “What’s your role?”

Bradford smiled. “Well I’m just an extra at the moment, but Mr. Griffith said Thursday he’s going to fit me into more scenes. He found out I can play piano and thinks he can use me for a bigger role.”

“I loved you in Breakfast at Sunrise,” Nelly said to her. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

“Why thank you.” Constance was as friendly as could be, but there was something about her appearance that made Nelly uneasy. “Is this your first time at one of Bus and Nate’s ‘dos?” she asked.

Nelly put on her best casual smile. “My second. I was here last fall.” She didn’t offer to explain how she knew Buster and hoped that Constance wouldn’t inquire. Distantly, she heard the orchestra and saw the bodies around them moving in time to the music.

“Oh, then you’re old hat. Have you tried the crab croquettes?”

Nelly said that she hadn’t. She was wondering where the conversation would go next when Bradford broke in. “Miss Talmadge,” he said, his voice brimming with charm. “Would it be too forward to ask you to dance?”

Constance smiled. Nelly could tell she was genuinely charmed. “Even if it was, I’ll say yes.”

“Wonderful.” He palmed her waist which was clothed in blue silk and chiffon. Glancing at Nelly as he took Constance’s small, white hand in his, he said, “Sorry, darling. Don’t be jealous.”

Nelly could have kissed him. With only one thought in mind, she elbowed her way out of the crowd and to one of the butlers, she helped herself to a minty green drink from his tray. She tossed it back, grabbed an Orange Blossom, and gulped that too. To his credit, the butler was too well-bred to react. She would have explained to him if she could that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy another second of the party without being drunk. The encounter with Constance had brought her jitters to a fever pitch. Nodding her thanks to the butler, she took another Orange Blossom in hand and went to track down the washroom.

The blue-eyed singer’s baritone followed her down the hall.

Birds are singing merrily

The sun is shining peacefully

Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

She locked the door behind her and set the drink on the edge of the sink as she relieved herself. Her make-up needed no touching up, and her cheeks were flushed with drink. Buster had engaged the Paul Whiteman Orchestra as a birthday gift to her and she was going to relax if it was the last thing she did. Technically it wasn’t her birthday for a few more hours, but even if they didn’t know it, everyone out there was dancing in honor of Nelly Foster’s twenty-seventh year on earth. She exited the washroom feeling more secure with this thought. Bradford was playing his part perfectly. The Talmadges didn’t suspect anything. It was okay if she loosened up as Buster had urged her to do.

#Buster Keaton #fan fiction #RPF #Actor RPF #Golden Age Hollywood #1920s #Bing Crosby #Paul Whiteman Orchestra

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babybackstage · 4 years ago

Text

someone like you..

{wrote a fanfic after ages, im rusty so its average}

‘I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited.

but I couldn’t stay away, I couldn’t fight it,

I had hoped you’d see my face and that

you’d be reminded that for me,

it wasn’t over’.

-----

I opened the door to a drunk Simon.

For 6/7 years we hadn’t had a proper conversation and suddenly here he was, at my doorstep. I let him in and led him to the couch. He looked like he had just come from an event – AGT auditions had started, he must’ve come from there. His Tom Ford perfume brought back memories from what feels like a lifetime ago.

I gave him a cup of coffee and sat down next to him. As I sat down, I found myself shifting - aware that the spot next to him was no longer mine. He drank slowly and looked around my apartment, it was his first time here.

I didn’t know what to say, it was so like him to show up like this, well it was so like the Simon I once knew. I snapped out of my nostalgia as he put his cup on the table and started to lie down on the sofa, I suddenly realised that she must be wondering where he is.

‘Si, shouldn’t you go home? Lauren must be wondering where you are.’

‘She won’t be wondering’. He mumbled; it was barely audible but I was sure of what I heard.

It took a moment for me to register that he and Lauren may have broken up. Finally. Not finally. What am I thinking? What would happen to Eric? Surely Simon wouldn’t do that to him, that little boy means the world to him. All these years of knowing that he was going home to her and now here he is, in my house, falling asleep on my sofa once again causing a storm in my life.

I realised that a part of me was happy that he was here, on my sofa.

It was not that we hadn't communicated in the past few years, we would talk every now and then - birthdays, holiday wishes etc but over the years our communication gradually became more and more formal.

we hadn’t gone many to the same parties – if I knew there was even a possibility of him being at the same place as me, I wouldn’t go. I couldn't bear seeing him with her. Its how I’ve managed for the past few years and yes I know it sounds pathetic.

It’s not that I completely stopped living my life – a lot has happened in my life. Both my parents passed away, I had barely started processing my mother’s death when my father passed away and since then my heart has been broken in a way that it’s never been broken before.

I’ve had relationships here and there. John Caprio and I briefly got together again. He is a total gentleman but I never deserved him. If I told him to wait 5 or even 10 years, he would wait for me but it wouldn’t be fair on him. I was never prepared for the kind of relationship he offered. John is a mature and solid man but I never felt quite solid with him.

I always felt solid with Simon, the 5 years we spent together – even if it was on and off, were honestly the best 5 years of my life. He was centred and affectionate both physically and emotionally, he knew that I didn’t like to be spoilt with materialistic items but made me feel like a princess anyway. I know that I was the only woman that he willingly introduced to his family, we weren’t even official when he introduced me to his mother and dare I say I was his mother’s favourite.

I moved to a new neighbourhood recently. After my father passed away, I thought a new home would give me the perspective I needed. I had gone on holiday but it hadn’t helped and instead of dealing with my emotions I decided to buy a new home. It’s not like me to splurge without really thinking about it but I didn’t want people to worry about me and buying a new home would make it seem like I’m doing okay.

Simon had come to the funeral of both my parents and both times he stayed till the end of the service. I still remember the hug he gave me at my father’s funeral. I melted into his chest, he smelt like the woody perfume he likes to wear when he gets tired of the orangey smelling one. From a distance, he had hovered around me. We didn’t talk about it but we both knew it wouldn’t have been appropriate if we interacted, I knew Lauren wouldn't have been agreed to him coming to the funeral. I’ve never asked Simon if he told her our history but I’m pretty sure she knows - everyone knows, people I’ve never met know our history. Our pda was never for publicity - we never discussed that we would hold hands or kiss or cuddle when we went out to a show or to dinner and neither was there anyone telling us to do so. He’s always been protective of me and I always reach out to him when I need someone to lean on. I just haven’t done it recently.

I’m not trying to be a saint with this ‘keeping distance’ thing, I’ve just been trying to do the right thing. Simon’s health and lifestyle has improved and I’m happy that it has. The past few years haven’t been easy for him either. I remember telling him some 10 years ago that he needed to give his health serious thought but I didn’t make that conversation as serious as I should have as given his working hours I didn’t want whatever time we had to be tainted by conversations about health and calories.

The beautiful thing about us was that when we were together it was because we chose to be together. Not because we had to be. We both had an even playing ground. To set the record, Simon never cheated on me. After he let me go from x factor – which is a story for another time, I had ceased contact with him and didn’t want him to contact me unless I said so and it was during that time that he well, got another woman pregnant. Did I ever think or expect that to happen, no. Lauren getting pregnant and seeing him have the happy family that I always wanted with him hurt more then I explain. In a way it hurt like a death. I tried to seem as if it didn’t bother me by keeping busy – I went on tour and kept working but in reality, I worked so much because I didn’t want to have time to think or feel anything. I made out enough time to be with my family and that was it.

Moving houses meant I met Tim. A tall stud of a gentleman who offered me a solid relationship that was tempting but he saw me and Simon together at my mother’s funeral and understood that I still had feelings for Simon. I could never really commit to anyone else after Si. As much as I tried I just couldn’t and it would feel fake when I tried. With Simon I didn’t have to try so hard, it was natural. Sure, I would make an effort for him but making an effort for Simon came easy and I know it came easy for him to make an effort for me. It was wholly organic. He was fire and I was ice.

'You know how the time flies,

only yesterday was the time of our lives

we were born and raised in a summer haze

bound by the surprise of our glory days’.

I came down to see Simon on the balcony, looking at the view. His coat neatly folded on the sofa, his once crisp white shirt now wrinkled with the sleeves rolled up. He seems to have washed up in the guest bathroom, typical of him to make himself at home without being given an invite. He looked sad and I wanted to go hug him from behind and comfort him, cup his scruffy face in my hands and tell him everything will be okay but I still wasn’t sure if it was my place. I need to ascertain what he remembered from last nite.

‘Hey you.’

‘Hey you too.’ He turned and smiled fondly at me but I could still see the sadness in his eyes.

‘Slept well?’

‘Like a log. Thanks for letting me crash here last night, I know it wasn’t right of me to show up the way I did, I didn’t realise I even showed up here..’

I smiled, nodded and looked into the distance, not wanting to say it was okay because I didn’t know if it was.

‘You have a nice place here, cosy but spacious. Very you’.

‘Thank you, I needed the change after dad passed away.’

‘How have you been doing?’

‘How have you been doing Simon?’ I said as gently as I could, I could tell from his body language that he’s broken and he wasn’t hiding it with his usual energetic demeanour and egoic boosts.

He sighed. ‘I’m guessing I said something last night?’ He looked at me and it filled me up in such a strange yet familiar way that I had to look away. ‘What did I say?’

I took a sip of my coffee and gripped my cup a little harder. ‘You basically said Lauren wouldn’t be waiting for you at home.’

‘Ah.’ He looked down at his hands and clasped them together. He still hadn’t touched his coffee.

‘We don’t have to talk about it but I am worried about you.’ He looked at me, questioning me with his eyes. ‘It’s been a while since you’ve done something like this..shown up at my place unannounced. I didn’t mind it then but now things are different.’

‘How are they different? Things are the same now. I’m single again unsurprisingly.’

‘Eric..?’

‘With Lauren.’ He looked away but I saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes.

‘Are you okay?’

He sighed and took a sip of coffee. ‘As fine as I can be, I guess. I think you and I both knew this was gonna happen. I genuinely tried to make it work but I never felt much for her. Eric is everything to me but he happened.. suddenly, and what me and Lauren had was well..a one-night stand that I didn’t think much of. She almost begged me not to tell her husband.’

‘She’s the mother of your child’.

‘And she’s a brilliant mother. I'll always be in Eric’s life – he’ll never have to worry about anything but the past few years have been tiring. I’m tired of putting up this act of a happy family when we've been sleeping in different rooms for the past few years.’

I didn’t know how to respond and looked into the distance. He turned to me, leaning on the railing. ‘Won’t you say something Paula?’

I combed my hair with my fingers. ‘I don’t know what to say Si. I’m sad for you, you know I always wanted you to have a family of your own.’

‘And maybe I always wanted to have a family with you.’

‘And you know I could never give you that.’

‘I want you to be in Eric’s life.’

‘As what Simon? As the woman you once used to work with and fired from your show because you didn’t have the guts to stick up for me or as the woman you left him and your mother for?’ It all came blurting out and I instantly regretted it. I walked inside and pretended to be busy tidying up the kitchen though it was already spotless. He put his cup down on the counter and watched me as I pretended to tidy up.

'Just tell me what you want Si. I'm really sorry that you’re hurting right now but you can’t just rock up here and expect me to take care of you while you wallow. Its not my place anymore.’

‘Paula, I've made a lot of bad decisions but there are two things I don’t regret, Eric and you. Those 10 years that we spent sitting next to each other on Idol then the 5 we spent together as a couple were the best Goddamn years in my life and I've always regretted hurting you and not standing up for you. I know no matter what I do, you won’t forgive me and neither can I undo the hurt I’ve done. I’m not sure what I want, Paula. I was upset and drunk and my house hasn’t felt like home in a really long time and the one person that feels like home is you.’

If he had said that to me 10 years ago, I would’ve kissed him straight away but I’m a different woman now. The pain he caused me has changed me.

‘What do you want Simon?’ I asked him again.

‘I don’t know. I guess I need to know if you’re still in my life.’

‘I’m here, where I’ve always been - at the fringes of your life when you’ve always been at the centre of mine even when I don’t feel comfortable with you being the centre. Every relationship I’ve had hasn’t worked because every guy I date just knows I still have feelings for you even after all these years. I gave you everything and you treated me like shit. You don’t own me.’

He looked surprised. Surprised that I could say something like that to him. I know he’s heard it from other women but I don’t think he ever expected to hear it from me.

‘Would you like me to leave’?

---

‘Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead...’

#saula #paula abdul #paula #abdul #simon cowell #simon #cowell #american idol #adele #someone like you

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piningfor-pinestwins · 4 years ago

Text

Natural Attraction (Stan x Reader Slow Burn; Eventual NSFW)

You put your car into park, eyeballing the wooden cabin your map led you to. When you’d received a postcard in the mail from Ford Pines himself, you figured it’d be something good, but a nice place in the middle of the woods in Oregon? Definitely an interesting place to continue his work.

You nibble your bottom lip as you double-check the address on the postcard, nervous fingers tracing the slightly tattered edge of the cardstock. Ford’s loopy cursive had beckoned your presence to the small town, and now that you were here, you could sense why. The woods around the cabin are dense, the contents of those woods possibly new and ripe for discovery. He’d mentioned a few creatures he’d run into while living in this area that intrigued you; little men with long white beards, eyeballs with wings, a bear with many heads! A kind man, he remembered you from Backupsmore where you’d gotten your Zoology degree. He was a nice partner in the few classes you’d had with him, a sheepish smile hidden behind his hand while the two of you whispered between experiments. In all honesty, he was probably the first friend you’d made at that school.

And now here he comes, the same sheepish grin spread across his cheeks as he waves to you from his porch, shoving his hands into his pockets as he comes toward your car.

“It’s so good to see you again,” He laughs as he claps a hand to your shoulder, six fingers squeezing you gently in lieu of a hug. He definitely looks different, you think, with his arms much thicker than they used to be under his cable-knit sleeves.

“I’m glad you decided to come! I’ve got a hunch that there’s a new creature becoming as curious of us as I am of it, and I’d like your help with it, if you’re interested.” Ford talks as he takes your suitcase from the top rack of your car, careful to hold it close to his side as he motions you toward the house. “You’re welcome to use the attic as a workspace and bedroom, if you wish. Everything’s newly built, so likely not haunted.” He teases, and you smile, holding your purse to your chest as you walk comfortably alongside him, quietly laughing as you both reminisce that you swore your dorm building had at least 4 ghosts inside, but you somehow got away from it alive.

He’s grinning as he closes the wooden door behind the both of you, and you quietly regard the tall stranger moving around the kitchen, the faint sound of water running distantly. Ford smiles down at you and sets your suitcase on the floor nearby, moving through the living room and calling for the man to come meet you.

The stranger dries his hands on the corner of an apron he’s wearing, using his shoulder to push the edge of his glasses back onto his face as he extends a slightly-damp hand. “Fiddleford McGucket, ma’am. Ford’s told me plenty about ya.” He’s grinning, freckled cheeks lifting his glasses slightly further up his face. You shake his hand and give him your name, matching his kind smile as you release his fingers. “You came on a good day! I reckon I’ve made too much supper for the three o’ us, so you’ll get a free homecooked meal!” Fiddleford talks over his shoulder as he starts back toward the kitchen, calling a sweet “Go make yerself comfy first!” as sounds of a knife against a chopping board resume.

Ford explains the way to the attic and your shoes make the stairs creak a little, but all-in-all the home looks cozy. You settle in a little bit, placing your suitcase under your bed after fishing out a fresh shirt and pulling your hair up into a bun. The smell of whatever Fiddleford is cooking wafts in and your stomach rumbles, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since starting your drive from Portland. You smile at the thought of meeting the man. Definitely a sweetheart, but not from around here, you think, if that accent could tell you anything. Something he said, however, makes you even more curious. Ford mentioned a lab assistant in his card, but Fiddleford mentioned another guest to make food for.

You jump when you hear the door downstairs slam shut, a gruff voice saying something to the other two, and though you can’t quite make out what they’re saying, you hear laughter. That must be them.

You give it a couple of moments before you come back down the creaky steps, peeking your head around the edge of the bannister to see Ford and Fiddleford sitting at a table with their backs to you, chuckling to one-another between bites of food. At one end of the table, facing you, is--Ford? Your eyebrows fly up in surprise as you get closer, but when you open your mouth to ask something, you notice the double has only five fingers. He stands, a dimple prominent at his cheek as you approach. Ford never mentioned a brother, let alone a damn twin.

“Stan Pines, good t’meet’ya, toots!” He grins, shaking your hand quickly before plopping back down into his chair. You stammer a little before giving your name, his forwardness taking you slightly off guard. Ford explains that his brother has been staying with them, only beginning after he’d sent the initial postcard and you nod, smiling kindly to him and mumbling a soft, pleased to meet you, Stan. Fiddleford chuckles at your side, patting the chair beside him. “C’mon, get eatin’ before it gets cold, huh?”

You smile and sit down, digging in. McGucket says it’s got some local veggies in it, and damn is it good, especially after having not eaten for hours. You just nod and keep eating, careful to not make an ass of yourself.

Fiddleford asks a few questions about your time in college and you answer between forkfuls, teasing Ford with an anecdote or two about the girl you tried to get him set up with who he got too nervous to call again, or the time your mutual professor had asked him if he’d ever permed his hair. He flushes red and laughs, just like he did back then, and you grin with him. It’s great to catch up with him, and the way McGucket laughs with him makes him feel like an old friend, too. Stan twists his fork into his plate, a little quiet. You can see him looking at you from the corner of your eye, and when you turn to meet his gaze, you smile, tilting your head at him. I bet you have plenty of embarrassing stories about Ford too, you say, almost more of an invitation than a statement.

When Stan smiles, his dimple reappears, his suave demeanor returning as he gives you a wink and nod. “Wouldn’t be a good brother if I didn’t indulge in terrible stories of my dorky twin, would I?” to which Ford snorts a laugh, trying to hide his wide grin with his hand as he rolls his eyes, “Oh God Stan, please don’t.”

Stan breaks into a (possibly over-exaggerated?) story about Ford, the same sheepish and smiley boy you met years back, standing up to a bully they had when he was a kid. It’s cute to see Ford so bashful, chuckling and interjecting corrections as Stan grins and ignores his brother. Stan knows how to tell a story though, even with Ford trying to argue between words. He has Fiddleford laughing, and you’re smiling too.

Something about his grin makes something in your chest heat up, and you feel the blush rising on your cheeks when he does a double-take, catching your stare focused on him. His smile breaks into a soft laugh and you join, looking down at your hands in your lap rather than the other men at the table. At the corner of your eye, you catch your research partners sharing a glance, but they don’t say anything.

“Anyway, ah, it’s gettin’ kinda late.” Stan says, his voice a little quieter than before. You look up at him and now he’s staring, and it’s his turn to turn a little pink in the cheeks as he rubs the nape of his neck. He picks up used plates from the table, glancing to meet your gaze and mumble a thanks as you hand him your own. Stan moves swiftly toward the sink then, ignoring the questioning look Ford gives him and trying his best to ignore the smug smile creeping onto Fiddleford’s features as he starts to distractedly wash the dishes.

“W-Well, ah, yes. It is getting late,” Ford agrees, glancing to you before pointedly nudging Fiddleford, ridding the lanky man of the smirk curling at his lips. He’s a little bewildered at...well, whatever the hell just happened, but Ford gruffly clears his throat and nods to you. “You should get some rest. I’d like to take you through the forest tomorrow so you can see some of what F and I have been researching.” You nod at his words, rubbing the back of your neck like a scolded child as you feel the flush of your cheeks only deepen in color.

I’m excited to get started with you three tomorrow, you smile as you stand from the dining table, looking between Fidds and Ford before straining your neck to catch Stan’s gaze as well, not wanting to leave him out. Stan raises his brows as he looks at you from over his shoulder, a little surprised to be included but the tell-tale dimple appears on his cheek once again as he smiles warmly over to you, nodding. “We’ll see ya in the mornin’, toots. Go get some sleep.” He almost looks like he wants to say something else, lingering eyes locked on your own as his smile softens, and he turns to face the running water of the sink once more.

Fiddleford ducks his head slightly to interrupt your gaze once Stan is turned away again, his grin kind but with a hint of amusement at the edges. “You’re welcome to come ‘n bother us for whatever you need--I’m sure at least Ford and I will be up a few more hours.”

You nod with your own polite smile, reaching to touch Fidds’ arm thankfully before pulling away, moving past the table toward the living room. I appreciate the dinner, Fiddleford! I hope breakfast is just as good! You call the words over your shoulder and the men chuckle as you wave your way from the room and back toward the stairs. They really are a nice bunch, you think, albeit a little ragtag. But, such is the life for this field of work. You avoid a few more of the creaky stairs this time you go up, starting to map which of them squeak under your weight.

As you finally reach your room and shut your new bedroom door, you take a long breath, resting your head back against the cool wood of the unpainted door, breathing in your new home for...well, as long as you can study the anomalies Ford had mentioned. Moving around to get ready for bed, you stop for a moment to lean against the triangular windowpane, catching the astounding view of a not light-addled sky and a streak of the Milky Way. Breathless, you watch the stars glitter from the opposite side of the pane of glass separating you, deciding then that you could really get used to living like this.

#nic's fics #stan pines #stan pines x reader #gravity falls #[mr. mystery]#hi! i'm alive!#i'm gonna try to update this story weekly! it's a slow ass burn lmao #as always come send me messages and requests and such!#ok bye for now!

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stardancerluv · 4 years ago

Text

Puzzle Piece

Part Two

Summary: Ford learns some interesting thing about about Reader.

Note: I must state...over the years, I’ve lost my mom...a best friend, and then because of this virus..let’s just say the last month...things got steadily worse. So I decided I may touch on it here and there. This will never be purely angst or is it a device to drive a plot. Its some of me working through those feelings and decided to do it productively.

—-and since I don’t have my new phone can’t upload or make a collage...I’m using gifs that I feel will kind of portray what I’ve written.

Song lyrics in italics. The Doors - The End of the Night

Warning: Reader has lost someone

Sometime later you giggled.

He looked over at you and smiled. “What’s so funny?”

“The bubbles, they tickled my nose!” Being this close to you, he could tell you were getting tipsy and it was actually kind of cute. “I’m not used to drinking, it’s been awhile.”

He nodded knowing. “It can certainly tickle one.”

As he looked at you he relished the flush of life you were. He was used to being around the dead that he had forgotten what it was like to be around the living.

“Yes.” You sighed contently. Your eyes met his there was something behind them he couldn’t read. Perhaps it was because you were human. “I had an idea.”

He rose his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I am going to freshen up. While I’m gone pick a song for us to dance to for when I return.”

“Oh, so you’ve warmed up to me? I’m no longer a stranger?” He playfully teased. At the coffee shop, he realized how out of the ordinary this entire situation was for the two of them.

Him especially since he was actually dead but at the moment, he wasn’t going to tell you that.

He growing very fond of you and didn’t really want to see you running off screaming. It had been some lifetimes since he had companionship so this with you, was very nice.

You laid a hand over his, he felt you flinch since he was so cool to the touch but this time you didn’t pull back. He could feel himself growing addicted to buzz of energy that poured from you, even with the slightest of touches.

He smirked, “I think I would like that very much.”

He watched you walk away.

“Ford, I didn’t know you had started to play with your food.”

He rolled his eyes before turning to the petite werewolf. “Hi Tammy.”

She smiled brightly, her canines gleamed in the lights of the bar. “Hi Ford.”

He slid off his stool and making past her on his way to the Jukebox. Nancy beat him to it, leaning against it, she took a leisurely yet sexy pose. “Gonna dance with her too?” She pursed her ruby lips.

“Yes,” Sighing, running his fingers through his hair he looked at the choices. “Don’t you have territory to mark or an alpha to answer to?” Turning he gave her a sardonic look.

She scrunched up her face before exhaling. “I wanted you to be my alpha.” She laid a hand on his arm.

He flinched the difference was sharp. What was it that made you different. “I don’t like to lay among fleas.”

“But a rotting corpse is better?” She removed her hand. “No reason to be rude. But you really should cloak those thoughts the wrong person will read them one day.” A bitter chuckle poured from her, as she cocked an eyebrow.

He pressed his lips together before speaking again. “Why must you always read mine?”

“Because I still care Ford.” She tugged on his ear. “Listen, since apparently don’t know you silly ghoul.”

“Will fucking hush she will hear you!” He snarled.

She took a step back, he could tell she was listening. “Nah, she’s just washing her hands.” Stepping back, closer to him as she smiled brightly. “Want to know why you are so drawn to her?”

He looked down at her, he smiled. “Because she is not you?”

“Very funny. Ford, she is walking that invisible line that humans walk when death gets too close.”

He looked to the darkened hallway that led to the toilets and back at Nancy. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s the closest they get to being like us, without actually being one of us.” She shrugged. “Someone, close to her died. The ghost is lingering and or well I don’t know.” She sighed in a huff. “The memory of them or shards of what used to be are still in her heart.“

He didn’t say anything but it was beginning to make sense.

Tammy’s stabbed a finger over his heart which had recently started coming back to life. “So don’t be an asshole. She doesn’t deserve it.”

“You are encouraging me to be nice to a human? I’m amazed.” He chuckled.

“I have my moments. Alright, remember what I said.” She fluttered off.

“Who was that?” Your sweet voice came from behind him.

Turning on a heal, he smiled down at you. His stomach lurched. “A friend.”

You nodded and smiled. “So did you pick a song or two?”

“No, help me.”

“Alright.” You said brightly.

******

First, as the music started there was space between the two of you. You don’t know why but you had this urge to get closer. You barely knew him. You were aware of this, you thought this out. Yet, you had this ever growing need to be close.

Take the highway to the end of the night

End of the night, end of the night

Take a journey to the bright midnight

Despite all of this, you wanted to touch him. He was incredibly cool to the touch, something was certainly wrong with him; perhaps poor circulation. Though the urge caused your fingertips to tingle.

You wanted to run your fingers over that impeccable marble white skin, he was like a breathing sculpture. His dark hair in the lightning of this bar reminded you of the feathers of a raven, his eyes were still as choppy as the ocean as they never left yours as the two of you danced.

Realms of bliss, realms of light

Some are born to sweet delight

He drew close. You didn’t step back. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“I thought we were going to be dancing together?”

“We are..”

You gasped which you were certain he heard since he pulled you right up against him. You finally felt he was firm as you had expected. Your hands in their surprise rested on his chest.

You felt as his hands moved so they could hold you closer against him. There was no space between the two of you.

“Much better.” He whispered close to your ear.

“Yes.” You nodded and you met his eyes again.

Some are born to sweet delight

Some are born to the endless night

Finally, you let your hand drift up. You grazed his cheek before your finger were finally nestled in his ebony strands.

He drew close as he continued to gaze down at you. Your lips met.

@fandomgirl800 @shantellorraine @mac-n-cheesie @vcat55

#femi!reader #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor imagine #ewan mcgregor angst #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor pov #ford angst #ford imagine #ford fanfiction #ford x you #ford x reader #ford x y/n #cold ward tales from the cyrpt #puzzle piece #part 2

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absynthc · 4 years ago

Photo

BASICS.

Full name: Sofi Sayid, but she hasn’t gone by that in almost two decades. Nicknames (if any): Ripley to most. Rip to a rare few. Gender / Pronouns: Cis female & she/her Classification: Human Abilities (if any): She wishes. Age: Thirty-six Occupation: Farmer. Dealer.

PERSONALITY.

Traits: Strategic, blunt, secretive, sarcastic, arrogant, obsessive, loyal. MBTI: INTJ – The Architect Zodiac: Capricorn. Character Inspiration: Theo Crain ( The Haunting of Hill House ), Lia Haddock ( Limetown ), Tommy Shelby ( Peaky Blinders ), James “Sawyer” Ford ( Lost )

Content warnings for suicidal ideation, drugs, addiction, grief, death, depression, implication of self-harm, allusions to police brutality.

AESTHETIC.

Sitting on your balcony alone, smoking a cigarette at one in the morning. Biting into a ripe peach, the juice dripping down your chin. Collecting old sci-fi movies from before the world burnt. The smell of rose water and honey. Calling the voicemail of someone gone just to hear the sound of their voice. Hiding your profits in the walls of your apartment. Biting down on your knuckles to muffle a scream. The crispness of cold sheets. Flickering neon signs pointing to narrow back alleys. Always paying in cash. Always.

(BRIEF) HISTORY.

tl;dr everyone rip has ever loved has either died or gone missing, and she’s convinced she has the power to talk to the dead, she just needs to figure out how to “activate” it, so that’s why she’s trying to amass wealth via dealing synth (my fun lil punny drug idea for metropolis) because money = power baybeeeeeee

Ripley grew up as a part of the working class of District Two. She’d never met her father, who disappeared mere weeks before she was born. No one knows why. It was as if he vanished into thin air, and her mother, Nairi, never talked about him.

Nairi worked at the Farm, and she did so tirelessly, legitimately believing the old adage that if you work hard, it will lead to a better life. Ripley saw time and time again how Nairi tried so hard to do everything right, do everything honestly, and how she was rewarded for her sincerity with scraps, while the Chancellor and her Watchers paraded around the city like tyrants.

And the ultimate cherry on top came when Nairi died in an accident on the Farm, killed by a wound that festered, by an infection in her blood, something that never would have happened had they been in a different district. But Ripley wasn’t able to grieve. At fourteen, she was an orphan, with no means of supporting herself, and all she could do was take up her mother’s job at the Farm in the hopes that one day, she’d make it out of here. One day, she wouldn’t have to do this anymore.

She was twenty-three when she met Joy, a technician at the Farm. It was a short courtship that led to a long marriage, and for a while, things were better. Ripley started getting used to the idea of happiness, started believing it was possible for her... only to have it all ripped away. The Watchers came, ransacked their apartment, took Joy away, interrogated Ripley for hours, told her that her wife was a traitor to Metropolis. After that day, she never saw Joy again.

Until she did, one night at the Boneyard. After her mom died, she started coming here, convincing herself she could feel her mother’s presence. And then, she started feeling Joy’s presence too, and that was all the proof she needed to herself that the one person she’d truly loved, the only hope at happiness she ever thought she’d get, was dead.

She started using. More than just casually, as she’d done her whole life. Methodical, addictive, meant to numb every feeling she’d ever had. And she had every intention of wasting away the rest of her miserable life until – a rumor overheard at Bliss, the idea that you could trigger powers within you...now that captured her attention.

She was singleminded in her pursuit of her “power” – which, she believes, is necromancy, the capacity to speak to the dead – because all she wanted was to say one last goodbye to the people she’s lost. It’s selfish, really, but she convinced herself, maybe she can use it for the greater good. To understand the future is to understand the past, and secrets disappear from the world with the dead.

Ripley was fucking tired. Tired of being a cog in the wheel of a broken machine, tired of being stepped on by the boot of the world, and in order to get where she needed to go, she needed power, money, and influence. What better way to do that than to control the stream of drugs into Metropolis? It was a slippery slope from using to dealing, but she made the most of the fall, and now, she’s created a tiny little monopoly for herself, pocketing almost all of the profits and trying not to get too greedy. Because it’s all in service of a larger goal, even if she refuses to acknowledge that she threw off one set of chains just to put on another. New game, same rules, and the stakes are much, much higher.

FULL BIOGRAPHY HERE.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

THE CLIENT’S ALWAYS RIGHT – This is one of Ripley’s regulars. Maybe it’s her favorite customer, someone she has an easy repartee with. Maybe it’s someone Ripley feels conflicted about selling to, for whatever reason. Maybe it’s someone she cannot fucking stand, but hell, they’re paying her, so what does it matter. Regardless, give Rip some clients and populate her business!! Walter White, who?

RUBBING ELBOWS WITH THE RIGHT PEOPLE – Ripley’s trying to advance her own agenda in terms of activating the power she believes she has. Maybe this person has information she needs, and she’s willing to pay to get it. Maybe she thinks she can manipulate this person to get to someone she actually wants to meet. At the end of the day, Ripley’s taking her first stab at “playing the game” of Metropolis, and boy is she vastly underprepared for what that means.

FELLOW FARMER – Ripley still works the fields as a cover for what she’s actually doing. This can be someone she’s known for years, maybe even her whole life, or it can be someone who just started working here last week. I’d imagine Ripley’s one of those people that’s become a staple of the Farm, someone everyone thinks will always be there and someone who tries to take the new kids under her wing a little bit, give them the advice she never got.

(WO)MAN OF GOD – While she isn’t inherently religious, Ripley has a strong affinity towards belief systems, and she believes with absolute certainty in her bones that she’s right about how she sees the world. Most specifically when it comes to the idea of her having powers. This is someone who believes the same thing as her or could be inclined to be swayed over to Ripley’s way of thinking. Maybe a new friend, a welcome reprieve from the cynicism Inkwell is always giving her. Someone who’ll go down this rabbit hole with her.

HEADCANONS.

Ripley named herself after Sigourney Weaver’s iconic Ellen Ripley of the Alien franchise. It was the only movie they had at home growing up, and Rip watched it again and again, can still recite it verbatim to this day.

Ripley’s got a fair amount of tattoos, all of them courtesy of Inkwell. No, she will not tell you why she got them. Sometimes a cow’s just a cow.

Since starting her little drug empire, Rip’s developed a gnarly caffeine addiction. It wasn’t something she could afford as a lowly farm worker, but now that she knows what a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee tastes like, she’s absolutely done for.

Ripley’s hair is always up if she needs to focus or if she’s working. A tight, sleek ponytail, a low bun, but most commonly, a long braid down her spine, just like how Nairi would do it for her when she was a young girl. She rarely, if ever, wears her hair down, despite it being so long.

There’s stray cat in her apartment complex that Ripley stared feeding. Since he’s so orange and so massive, she started calling him Cheeto. Cheeto now has his own litter box in Ripley’s apartment... and yet, she still calls him a stray and refuses to admit she owns a fucking cat.

Ripley takes pretty good care of herself physically. Her favorite form of exercise is boxing, and she doesn’t get nearly enough practice with sparring partners, just punches a bag she set up behind her building, so if you’re trying to Fight, hit me up.

And last but... not... least.... can’t sit properly in a chair because she’s gay....

#{ about }#{ edits }#{ i am living at the center of a wound still fresh }#2120intro #im terrible at connections pls dont look at me pls just write w me thank u

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ironndred · 5 years ago

Text

Tinker - Chapter 1

So this whole story (which started as a one-shot and quickly turned into a chapter fic) is based on Tony’s famous, three-piece, two-button Tom Ford suit in CA:CW.

Non-Powered!AU where Peter works for his Uncle Tony at his watch repair shop. You guys ready for some slow-burn Starkercest?

| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Word count: 1.7k; Rated T: no explicit activity between characters…yet…but I can definitely guarantee it! Patience will be rewarded, I promise!

Chapter summary: Peter learns a secret about his Uncle Tony.

Chapter contains: violence, death, drinking. Peter’s age is not mentioned, so that’s for you to decide.

—

Peter never asked why his Uncle Tony wore just the one glove. For as long as he could remember, his right hand had always been clothed in a glove of black leather, held together with red and gold stitching. He had grown fond of the accessory, as his Uncle Tony was never seen without it, but that fondness grew and was soon coupled with a nagging curiosity.

It became more difficult as the years went on, as Peter was an affectionate boy, always craving his uncle’s warmth and contact, but in all their years of closeness, he always took special care to keep a certain kind of distance. Even after his uncle had taken him in as an apprentice in his shop, where he serviced clocks and watches, he’d never dared to ask him about the glove. He thought perhaps it was a part of the trade, to keep the delicate watches he worked with from being smudged with oils and fingerprints, and left it at that.

But as Peter grew, his intrigue grew as well, and he found himself thinking about the gloved hand more often than not.

Aunt May never had much to say about it and cautioned against prodding. It’s kind of a sensitive subject, honey. It happened a long time ago, but it’s a tough story for your Uncle Tony and it’ll be a tough story for you. But it’s a story he’ll tell you about when he’s- when you’re both ready. He wanted so badly to know, but respected his uncle enough to maintain that silent boundary, just as everyone else had.

One night, while at the shop, Peter’s curiosity had finally caught up with him. It was a quaint little store, with hickory bay windows and green and gold foiled wallpaper, attached just below the apartment he and Aunt May shared. Grandfather clocks and antique cuckoos lined the walls, velvet cushioned display cases showcasing timepieces of gold and silver. It was a second home to Peter, where he and Tony had many spent all-nighters together tinkering and toying with various watches and motors.

Tony sat at his work table, his left sleeve rolled up to his elbow, the other buttoned tight where his glove met his wrist. Peter had never thought about it until now, but he’d realized that he’d never actually seen skin in that little gap between glove and sleeve. He watched from across the table as Tony took a screwdriver to the open body of a small pocket watch, his eyes drifting to leather fingertips that delicately held the timepiece in place.

“Uncle Tony? Um, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, kid. Shoot.” Tony furrows his brows, looking closer into the guts of the pocket watch. He aligns the driver with a screw.

“D-do you ever take it off? The glove?” The way Tony’s body stiffened was more than noticeable, but his focus remained on the watch. Peter is instantly uncomfortable at his silence and sputters. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to pry! We don’t have to talk about it! I mean, it’s just-”

“Hey, buddy. Relax. You don’t have to explain yourself. I suppose it’s time and you’re old enough to know...” Tony set down the watch and repositioned himself in his chair, leaning in closer to his nephew. “Your Aunt May and I wanted to wait until you had a couple more years on you before really getting into it.”

Before Peter can speak, Tony began unbuttoning his right sleeve. Peter’s eyes go wide as Tony rolls it up, slowly revealing slick, buffed metal. It’s rolled up as far as it can go, and Peter can only stare.

Revealed is a limb made of cold, dark steel. It was an impressive prosthetic, its’ mechanics silent and unassuming, especially under his starched Matuzzo dress shirts. Tony took it upon himself to dress as sharp and as clean as possible, goatee trimmed neatly and his Tom Ford suits pressed to a crisp. And today was no exception. Peter wet his lips, Tony’s dark grey vest and black gunmetal arm a stark contrast against his white dress shirt and deep red tie. Bright, almost glowing, blue metal accents lay between gaps of intricate steel panels, and Peter gazed as Tony’s arm seemed to come alive as he flexed his fingers.

“Is it-is your whole arm, uh…?”

“Arm and shoulder were a package deal. It was a miracle that they didn’t need to replace more.” Tony sniffed. Peter is silent as he lets Tony pace the story.

“Believe it or not, your Uncle Tony used to be a real grease monkey. I was a mechanic, dingy coveralls included.” Peter giggled, replacing Tony’s suit with a Dickie’s jumper and imagining his uncle wiping a grease smudged brow with a red oil-stained rag.

“Your, ah- your dad and I worked on cars all the time with your grandfather growing up.”

This caught Peter’s attention in a different way, looking up in surprise. His parents were rarely ever brought up in conversation, especially after their untimely passing. Peter didn’t know much about them; he just knew that his mother died at childbirth, and his father passed shortly after he’d been born. It was painful for everyone to talk about, his father being the biggest sore spot of them all.

“Your dad was an incredible mechanic, a genius of the trade, and together we opened up an auto shop in Queens.” Tony stood from his seat and began circling the table to stand next to the boy, Peter’s eyes following him. “You were such a tiny little thing when it happened; so quiet we barely knew you were here. Your mom had already passed and your Uncle Ben and Aunt May were helping take care of you while your dad and I worked at the shop.”

Tony loosened his tie and turned towards the young man, eyes scanning his face for another moment before taking a deep breath.

“One night, your dad called me saying he was going to the shop to work on a car that had been giving us trouble earlier that day. But I’d had a bad feeling. I offered to come by and help, but he insisted he’d be fine working on the car alone and-”

“Is this about the night he died?” The young man spoke before Tony could go further. Tony had a pained look in his eyes, but he neither denied or confirmed.

“Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“No, please, Uncle Tony. I want to know. Please?”

Tony took another deep breath, grabbing and wringing his wrist as he collected his story once again.

“They said it was a robbery gone wrong. By the time I got to the shop, all there was was smoke. Your dad never kept money in the shop, but they didn’t believe him. One thing led to another, and next thing you know, they’d shot him and set the shop on fire.”

It dawned on Peter why they’d waited to cross this bridge, both for his sake, and for Tony’s.

“I ran in; into the fire. I could barely see, but I managed to find your dad. I don’t know how long he’d been laying there for. He was weak and had already lost so much blood...”

Tony had begun to pace the room, eyes to the floor as he went back and forth.

“The heat was almost unbearable, but it was the last thing on my mind. I just couldn’t leave him. I pulled the both of us out and I thought we’d made it, but it was too much for him. He’d fought hard, but by the time I’d come out of surgery, he was gone. I’d lost my brother and my arm both in one night.”

“Uncle Tony...I’m-I’m so sorry, I-”

“They said there was nothing I could’ve done. He didn’t have a chance, with or without the fire...”

“But why did you go in?” Peter asked. Tony looked up at Peter, and suddenly, the boy looked so small; any smaller and he’d fold in and disappear into himself. “If you hadn’t of gone in, you’d-you’d still have your arm, and-”

“And I probably wouldn’t of been able to live with myself if I didn’t. I would do the same thing if I had a chance to do it over. I’d been burned down to the bone, and I’d do it all again if it meant having those final moments with your father.”

Peter could see nothing but love and sincerity in Tony’s eyes.

“I made a promise to my brother that night, that if he didn’t make it out alive, that I would spend the rest of my life taking care of you.”

Neither of them were sure what to say at this point, Peter deep in thought at what he’d just learned. The room stilled. They’re quiet for a moment, Tony walking past Peter to a cabinet in the shop, opening the door and grabbing himself two tumblers and the decanter of whiskey from middle shelf. Peter is reigned back into the moment at the sound of metal clinking with crystal. The older man set the glasses down on the workshop table, pouring themselves a healthy finger of whiskey each. Peter’s surprised at the gesture, taking the tumbler and swishing the amber liquid around the glass, just as he’d seen his uncle do so many times before.

“You sure, Uncle Tony? Aunt May won’t be mad?” Peter was a little more excited than he’d like to admit. He knew it was an attempt to lighten the mood, but with everything that had come to light between him and his uncle, he couldn’t help but feel that much closer to being a man; a man that Tony could respect and admire one day as more than just his nephew.

“I don’t think we’ve ever sat down together for a proper drink.” He picked up his own glass and Peter’s eyes are once again drawn to the sound of metal fingers wrapping themselves around the glass.

“Besides,” Tony paused to take a sip of his drink. “May is your Aunt, not your keeper. She doesn’t have to know everything we do here.” He winks in Peter’s direction, smirking at the sudden pink flush that rushes across the boy’s face.

Peter smiles back, taking a shy sip at the reassurance. He’d never had whiskey before; it’s strong at first, but smooth and hot as it traveled down to his belly. But he’s pleased with himself that he hasn’t faltered, and he takes another drink. Tony seemed pleased as well, smiling once more as he raised his glass for a toast.

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #tony x peter #non powered au #chapter fic #tw: drinking #tw: death #ironspider #starker au #tw: incest #tinker fic

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rhodochrosite-love · 5 years ago

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Ford x Gravity Falls oc (Penny) fic under the cut

Ford ran into the woods, his feet picking up grass behind him. His determination was rising with every footfall, his brow furrowing with every thump, thump! noise he made. Stanford Pines was on a mission. A mission to find Mothman and take back what he owes--

“OUGH!”

Suddenly the older man was on the ground, his body laying on top of something soft. He groaned, “urgh… What on Earth…?” When he looked down, he blushed a bright shade of red-- A woman! A woman was under him! He landed right on top of her, her back to him, and he couldn’t help how his senses were invaded by her scent…

Sweet lavender, like the forest around them, and her hair was such a lush, pale gray. Practically silver! And she--

“Hey, are you even listenin’, pal?!”

Ford snapped out of his trance, “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry, I…” He shook his head, lifting himself off of her using his hands, but in that instant, Ford felt a finger trace one of his, skyrocketing the hairs on his nape. “Um, p-pardon m-”

“Stanford? Stanford Pines…?” She sounded hopeful, but frightened as well. Ford, only picking up on the former, arched his brow and leaned back as she turned--

If the author wasn’t fascinated by this woman, surely he was now-- He recognized her just as she did him.

“Penelope Wright?” The two stayed there for only a few moments until he quickly, yet clumsily, moved off of her. “I-I had no idea you were still in town…!” He exclaimed, to which she positioned herself on her back to respond. “No, I’m just on vacation… Ford,” She winced as she said his name, as if her joints hurt from more than just the fall. “I… didn’t expect you. Here. In my garden.”

“Garden?” He looked around-- and it certainly was a garden. However, it wasn’t filled with the typical peonies and daffodils, but rather the more enchanted species of flora! Glacier Hibiscus, Ammi Ordinaire, Icros Clove… Most, if not all, of the arcane flowers Ford knew were centralized right here, in…

In his ex girlfriend’s garden in the woods.

“Wow… I had no idea you could plant these! How in the multiverse did you get Angel Tansies to grow next to Slyllis Fleurir?! They’re completely different climates!” As Ford geeked out over the blossoms, Penelope sat up and stretched her arms, she’s not the young woman she used to be. Doing so made her groan in irritation, getting Ford’s attention before he became too enraptured by the flora.

“I’m sorry,” Ford held out a hand for her to take, to which she not-so-gladly did. She scoffed as she stood, “Sorry for what, exactly?” “Oh, well, you know!” He gestured with one six-fingered hand in front with the other held behind him, “Knocking you over! Good thing you weren’t holding anyhting dangerous or valuable!” His grin was too calculated to be truly genuine, a fact in which the gardener noticed.

“Just the fall, huh? Well, that seems about right,” Penelope sighed, moving to tend to the aformentioned Tansies, watching the violet bees do the same. Ford looked to the ground, avoiding her gaze…

A long time ago, Ford and Penelope hadn’t been on the best of terms. When his trusted friend and assistant Fiddleford had quit the Portal project after seeing the other side of it, Ford began to fall into a paranoia he had never felt nor seen before. He scratched at nothing, he murmured to no one, and most of all, he had vicious night terrors about Bill-- the being he once called muse that had betrayed him, and turned him into that frantic man. He had hurt his Penny many times-- always on accident, but hurt her nevertheless. In the silence that kept them sewn in that moment, Penny thought of the six-fingered bruises he had left on her arms all those years ago… the splattered blood on the tables and counters, and being woken up by screams every. Single. Night. She hadn’t realized how long ago that was… almost 30 years ago, now. In the same moment, he had realized that, too. He thought about what may have happened, what might have not. Did she hate him now? He knew he would… Did she still love him? That seemed even scarier than the previous thought. What had she done while he was in the multiverse? “Well? What are you still doing here?” She asked, moving to the Cloves and whispering ancient words to make them bloom. He looked to her and persed his lips into a thin line, hesitating a moment before speaking, “.... I was looking for Mothman. He owes me money for-” “For when he stole y’funnel cakes?... I remember.” Penny interrupted. The author smiled, his ears going pink. Without his permission, his feet led him to her-- his front facing her back, just like a few minutes ago (yet this time, vertical). Feeling his breath on her collar, she tensed, biting her lip hard to keep from making any kind of noise.

When she felt his unique hands on her sides, she flinched. He immediately stopped, fingers twitching where they were. Penny had no idea what he thought he was doing, and a big part of her wanted him to stop, but anopther part of her wanted him closer-- wanted him beside her. Stuck in her thoughts, Ford pulled closer, wrapping his arms around her middle. She leaned back on his warm stomach on instinct, and nestled her head in the crook of his collar.

In that moment in time, everything was serene. A tense, careful air was amuck, but the motions carried out were ever so smooth. Ford held Penny tighter against him as he whispered, “Penny… “ Her breath hitched, finally letting the tears fall. “Penny, I’m sorry.” His apology was even quieter than her name was. She shook gently in his arms as he continued, looking off to the side in embarassment.

“I was a fool burdened with a demon, Penny. I never should have let you get hurt... You meant so much to me.” He stroked her stomach with his thumb, attempting to comfort her. “You still do.” Penny’s arms found themselves laying on top of his, feeling the fabric of the trench coat he donned. “I found the pictures we took, in the basement…” He chuckled, “Well, Stanley found them-- nestled between our comforter… He said he wanted me to have them.”

Penny swallowed down her pride, “Do you have them with you?” “No, they’re at the Shack, safe and sound.” She couldn’t help but be a little disappointed, her shoulders dropping just a cinch. After a moment, he continued, “In the portal, my memories had begun to fade away from my home. Survival was my only cross to bare, then… “ He somehow managed to nestle even closer to her, resting his head atop hers, “Looking at those polaroids, I couldn’t believe I had forgotten how beautiful you were.”

The woman didn’t know how to respond to him. He hurt her, he did, but… She also missed him. Immensly. What she had done with her life, she wouldn’t change, but the fact that he was here, with her, in her garden, holding her just like he used to after three decades, saying that he had missed her too, had made her remember how much she loved and adored this man.

Ford carefully interjected her thoughts, “What are you thinking..?” He didn’t know if he wanted the answer, but he waited anyway. “I…” Penny lifted a hand to her cheek and huffed, casting her eyes downwards. In the next moment, she turned to face him, moving her lifted hand to his cheek, feeling the itchy texture of his face, her other hand resting on where his chest and shoulder met. He had moved his arms so they simply rested on her hips now, his fingers twitching in anticipation, his whole body leaned in to her touch.

She searched his face for the answer, hoping to find it somehow. “I missed you, too.” His lips curled softly, blink-and-you'll-miss-it softly, beginning to pull her closer. She stopped him, however, and pulled away, using her hands now to take his off of her. Ford’s eyes scrambled for the opportunity to find what he did wrong, in that moment-- Was she unhappy? Did he frighten her? He didn’t want to drive her away anymore. He opened his mouth to speak, but when nothing came out, he balled his hands into fists, frustrated with his own brain.

Penny understood him-- She always understood him. It took a bit of time to do so, way back when in high school. But she knew that he was desperate for her. “I know, you want this again… “ She gestured to the two of them, “but I need time, Ford. Can you do that for me…?” He raised his head a tad, and straightened himself while folding his hands behind his back. “Of course… thank you, Penny.”

She smiled despite herself, and moved her hand to rub his bicep, then give a squeeze and let go. He nodded to her, then turned to leave her to her flora.

On his way out, he tripped on a pot, leaving him to stumble a bit. Penny looked over to him with an amused expression, while he was red as a rose. He waved a bit, laughing as he picked up the small pot and placed it on a resting chair. Penny giggled quietly at Ford as he left the garden.

What will she do with that man… Oh, she wonders.

#penny wright #gravity falls oc #gf oc #ford pines #stanford pines #gravity falls #my writing #gf fic #ford pines x oc #ford x self insert #takes place before weirdmaggedon #might be ooc but i dont care #i want some old person love

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hot-young-runningfree · 6 years ago

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That’s Wife Material (pt 2)

Summary: When you see the apartment for the first time.

A/N: Wow! This really blew up! I’m so so happy you guys! Thanks for liking my story!

The girl he met at the party was dancing and laughing. Nikki was standing at the pool party, but his surrounding was bright, and although he could see the party-goers dancing, no music or sound was heard. He could only hear her laughter. As if in slow motion, Nikki turned to Tommy, but no one could hear him.

He turned back to look at her and saw he had caught her eye. She started walking over to him, and his body felt his nerves on fire with each step she got closer.

“You’re Nikki, right?” her voice was magical. “Let’s dance.” she began pulling him to the crowd of people and he was in a daze.

He just stood there in awe as she started dancing, calling his name to dance with her.

“Nikki!”

“Nikki!” It got louder.

“Nikki! Tommy! Open up already!”

The sound of a fist pounding at the door woke Nikki up from the couch, his heart racing and the dream slipping away.

“What?! What do you want woman?!” Nikki opened the door, completely irritated you woke him from his restful and dreamless sleep, or so he thought.

You came early to give them a listen like you promised Tommy you would. Hopefully, Vince would come around later and ‘audition’ for the band, although you gathered they already wanted him. As soon as the door opened, you could only focus on the state of the apartment you could see past Nikki’s shoulder, dumbfounded. The place was a mess. More than a mess. The walls and carpet had scorch marks and there were cockroaches crawling around. You noticed a few dishes in the sink, but judging by the smell, they hadn’t been washed in a while. Take that back, the smell was coming from the pile or unbagged garbage piling on the patio. You didn’t want to touch anything, and it was pretty obvious you didn’t want to.

Nikki watched you and laughed. “You obviously haven’t made any trips to the poor part of town.”

You broke your daze and stepped inside, looking for a decent spot to make your stay. Nikki could see your discomfort and took the thin blanket he was using on the couch and folded it on the couch, giving you a clean spot to sit on.

Tommy opened his door, rubbing his nose, “Hey (Y/N)! Thought I heard your voice.”

“Tommy, you live here?”

“What’s wrong with ‘here’?” Nikki’s tone sounded defensive.

“Well, just look at it!”

“And? I don’t see any used needles lying around. It’s got enough space, it’s only Tommy and me, at least there’s a roof over our head. Sorry, we don’t have enough luxuries for your, princess.”

‘At least there’s a roof over our head’. It clicked in your mind that Nikki grew up far differently than you and Tommy.

Something changing in your eye, and Tommy and Nikki could see it. Determination? Criticism? They couldn’t tell. You didn’t say a word as you marched around the apartment, taking in everything. You opened the fridge to only see beer and one package of hot dogs. You looked in the bathroom to see the tub stained with black hair dye, and the toilet stained with urine. Dirty socks were littered around, and they had no toilet paper.

You clicked your tongue and sighed, “That’s it.” and marched out of the house. Nikki was livid. You had just gone around the apartment without even saying anything and left. You didn’t even give them a chance to say anything or hear any of their music you came over for.

“Fuck her!” Nikki’s experience with abandonment was clearly coming back, and Tommy, not knowing any of that, still tried to calm him down.

“No, dude! (Y/N)’s not that kind of girl! she wouldn’t just judge us like that. I saw that look. I know she’s hatching a plan. Just wait, She’ll be back.”

‘Fuck her.’ All Nikki could do was go into his room (thank goodness she didn’t go in there) and do a few lines of blow. He was sick of people coming and going in his life, especially those who never gave him a chance.

An hour and a half later, Nikki was still riding his high when he heard the knock on the door. He couldn’t be bothered answering, so Tommy answered for him. Expecting Mick or Vince, Nikki was shocked to hear Tommy shout your name.

“Look, Nik, (Y/N)’s here!” Nikki got up off of the couch again and looked over Tommy’s shoulder. There you were, holding bags of groceries.

“Well? Don’t just stand there, help me out. There are more bags in the trunk.” You looked at both boys.

Tommy led Nikki down to the car, a dark blue Ford Pinto, and started grabbing bags.”See man? I told you she had a plan.”

Nikki was shocked. She came back. and not just that, but with food and other things. He couldn’t say much because he was still high, but even if he wasn’t he’d be speechless.

Putting the bags on the empty table, Tommy turned to you as if ready for orders.

“Right. After talking to Nikki I realized he was right. Tommy, you and I come from a completely different world than him. He’s had to fight his way here.” You motioned around you, talking about the apartment. “I’ve always been supportive of you, and the best way to do that in this situation is to help you guys. Nikki clearly thinks this is good enough and Tommy, let’s face it- your mother did everything for you. I’m going to teach both of you how to take care of yourselves, starting with learning how to clean up your messes.”

Nikki was starting to sober up and he and Tommy look at each other.

“But we have Vince coming around later.”

“All the more reason!”

You heard Tommy laugh. “(Y/N), you’ve always been the mother of the group.”

You were helping Nikki clean out the garbage from the patio, an issue the neighbors had with the boys for ages. The both of you wore gloves and had masks on, but that still didn’t stop both of your from gagging. You were mostly done with it, and Nikki couldn’t believe you stuck around to help with the dirtiest bits. You even came across a rat and its family, and while Nikki jumped back, you swatted it away with the broom in your hand. When the fattest rat didn’t want to move, you picked it up with your gloved hand and threw it off the patio, for some other unlucky person to find. You had been deemed the most metal person he’d ever met.

“(Y/N)... I have a confession to make. When you left...I thought it was for good. I thought...I thought you were too good for us and left without giving us a chance.”

You listened intently, not sure how to respond. A mixture of feelings came up. Sadness, pity, anger, and resolve. There it was again- the thing you hated the most- being misjudged.

“Nikki...I don’t know your past, but I’m getting the impression it wasn’t a stable one. I suppose I understand. But from here on, you better get used to my face, because I’m not going anywhere for a while.” you laughed, “Besides, I want to see if you can keep this apartment clean when I’m gone.” Both of you smiled, and you pushed Nikki into the pile of bagged trash.

“Ugh...”

Yep. She was proving herself to be wife material indeed.

@killer-queen-ofrhye @tarahell @balthazarstardis @brideofdraculana @fandomshit6000 @my-names-blurryfvce @paint-it-black64 @bug013 @itsametaphorbriansblog @getse-exe @inkmonster21 @teenwolflover28 @kingbouki3 @motleecrue @emothrash @divaanya @elixabeth-exe @motley-f-ckin-crue @hiworlditishumbleme @thatbandchick39

Let me know if I missed anyone! if you want to be tagged, comment below and I’ll add you to the list!

#the dirt #nikki x reader #nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #vince neil #that's wife material #wife material #nikki x oc #nikki sixx x oc #douglas!nikki #mgk!tommy lee #series #oneshot #imagine #motley crue #motley crue fanfiction

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anistarrose · 5 years ago

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To See The Unseen - Ch. 3 (Gravity Falls)

Summary: Mabel and Pacifica both receive visits from ghosts with very different intentions.

Warnings: nightmares, brief canon-typical violence, descriptions of a hospital room

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/20884673/chapters/50274419

This is starting to look more like a five-chapter fic because I got an idea for an epilogue, so stay tuned for two more parts after this one!

***

Truth be told, Stan had thought that entering Mabel’s dreams would be harder. He wasn’t sure if he’d been expecting her to resist, or simply that it would’ve taken more concentration on his part — but in reality, all he had to do was blink, and when he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by vivid colors and funny animals.

It frightened him the more he thought about it, knowing that it was probably this easy for Bill too, and that this was all the effort it took for him to enter someone’s mind with his surely less-than-benevolent intentions. Stan hoped that Bill wasn’t watching him now and getting any ideas — because at the end of the day, the threat of his family being tormented scared Stan more than imprisonment in a mirror ever would. It didn’t seem like that realization had occurred to Bill yet, but there was no telling what he might do if he noticed Stan poking around in Mabel’s dreams…

But there wasn’t much Stan could do about that now, other than try and get in and out of here as quickly as possible.

“Mabel?” he called, stepping over a sleeping Ducktective as he surveyed the area. “You in here, pumpkin?”

A sickeningly neon young man, who Stan recognized from one of Mabel’s favorite direct-to-VHS 80’s cartoon movies, stuck his head out of a nearby bounce house and blinked a few times, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Hey dude, you look suspiciously not-radical! You’re not from ‘round here, are you? What do you want from us?”

Stan held up his hands. “Look, I’m just trying to talk to my niece. Trust me, I know exactly how weird this is, and I don’t like it either! I don’t want to be invading her dreams, and I definitely didn’t mean to get turned into a ghost —”

“Oh! You’re from the real world, aren’t you? That would make more sense.”

“Uh, yeah? Where else would I be from?”

The dream boy lowered his voice to a whisper. “Mabel has other dreams besides us sometimes — hard to believe, I know. But those dreams… they’re pretty different from us. We don’t really vibe with them, if you know what I mean, so we keep our difference — or at least, we try to, but they still sneak in here sometimes. More often than usual, lately.”

“Well, that’s ominous,” Stan muttered. “Mabel wouldn’t happen to be with those… those other dreams now, would she?”

The dream boy shrugged. “I dunno, man. Why don’t you follow her footprints and find out?”

“Footprints?” Stan looked down, and sure enough, a set of tracks was visible in the golden, crystalline sand beneath his feet. The imprints were too small to be from his own dress shoes, but just the right size and shape to have been left by Mabel’s sneakers. “Oh, those prints. Thanks for the tip, uh… which one are you again? Xyler or Craz?”

“Even I don’t know, bro! What even is the self, when the only reality I’ve ever known is just a series of another being’s fleeting dreams? David Hume postulated that —”

“Alrighty then, I’m gonna go find Mabel now.” As the dream boy grew preoccupied with quoting dead philosophers, Stan set off in the direction of the footprints — following them down the hill, past a group of sledding stuffed animals, and into a forest of lava lamps. Mabel had taken a winding and haphazard path, doubling back on herself a few times, and Stan got the feeling she’d been more or less sleepwalking, without any specific goal in mind.

He exited the forest to find himself standing on a beach, where the yellow sand fizzed and popped like crystalline candy where it met the waves of a deep pink ocean. The view overhead was as clear as could be, with countless fantastical constellations animating and chasing each other across the dark purple sky, and the whole place smelled of sugar and artificial fruit flavorings.

But the whole coast was barren of life except for Mabel’s footsteps, which led directly into the water.

“Mabel?” Stan called. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

Maybe his voice was still as silent to her ears as it had been in the real world. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to hear him even if he found her.

But he couldn’t just give up now. He followed in Mabel’s footsteps towards the fizzing boundary between crystals and ocean, pinching his nose as the smell intensified, and then stepped in.

Instantly, he realized it wasn’t water. It was more like syrup, sticky and viscous and sickly-sweet, and the receding waves tugged him forwards until he was in up to his knees before he knew it. But he had a better view at what lay beneath the surface now, and he could make out a small, blurry light source illuminating the ocean from below — yellow and five-pointed, like the shooting star on Mabel’s favorite sweater.

“Is that you, sweetie? Can you hear me?”

He was up to his waist now, then to his shoulders. He stood on his tiptoes as the ocean floor slowly dissolved beneath him. Instinctively, he knew he still had a chance to struggle free and escape the dream, but with each wave that passed by him, he only grew only more and more determined that he wasn’t going to leave.

“Hang tight, Mabel. I’m coming.” He took a deep breath, and dove beneath the surface.

Surrounded by dense liquid and fizzing bubbles, it was difficult to see and even more difficult to move — but Stan imagined himself sinking towards the light, and sure enough, some force propelled him downwards. He always had been good at manipulating what happened in his own lucid dreams, and it was reassuring to know that the talent had carried over to Mabel’s dreams too.

The star was coming into clearer focus, and Stan extended an arm towards it, only to hit something solid that collapsed beneath the force of his touch. The dark purple seafloor began to crumble away, revealing an even darker chasm below in which the star still floated, and a whirlpool swirled into existence around it, catching Stan in its vortex and pulling him in —

He crashed through the earthen roof of a room he didn’t recognize, nearly hitting his head against a boulder as a deluge of water carried him down the tunnel. It took him a few seconds to come to his senses, but when he did, he instantly recognized the voice he heard echoing from within the next room:

“Take that! And that, you shapeshifting jerk!”

“Mabel!” Stan broke into a frantic run, hurtling around the corner —

He saw an alien, insectoid monster with bulging red eyes swing its claw-like arm towards Mabel, but she darted out of the way and clocked it on the head with a piece of pipe. It collapsed like a rag doll the second she struck it, toppling to the ground and slowly shrinking until it resembled…

“No,” Mabel whispered, “no, no, no…”

The shapeshifter, now in the form of Stan’s unconscious body in his hospital gown, heaved out one last breath before lying very still as Mabel rushed to its side.

“Grunkle Stan, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! You’re going to be okay, you have to be okay, I didn’t mean to —”

“Mabel!” Stan rushed to her side and gently pulled her away by her shoulders, lifting her up and wrapping her in a hug. “It’s okay, sweetie. That guy’s just a nightmare — the real me is right here with you, and I’m okay, I promise.”

“What?” Mabel had instinctively buried her face in the shoulder of Stan’s suit as she cried, but she looked up now, a realization beginning to dawn on her. “Grunkle Stan? Why are you… glowing blue?”

“I had a little accident,” Stan admitted, “but you and me and your brother are all gonna fix it together. I know we can.”

He set her down on the ground, and snapped his fingers in the direction of the shapeshifter’s body, which promptly dissolved into a swarm of swarm of blue fireflies that took off through the bunker. “That’s better. Having to look at that guy was no fun, was it?”

Mabel rubbed her eyes. “Am I dreaming?”

“No! Well, yeah, but this is the real me you’re talking to — and you’ve gotta bear with me here, you can’t wake up just yet. There’s a lot I still need to tell you!”

“What happened to you? How are you unconscious in real life, but also in my dreams?”

“I… found a cursed artifact. Like, really, really cursed — it looked just like a fancy compact mirror, but it pulled my soul out of my body… hey, you know what? Let me ask you a weird question: you know Bill Cipher, right?”

Mabel immediately tensed up. “He did this to you?!”

“Not quite,” Stan corrected her. “I did this to myself — just me and my recklessness, all on our own — but Bill stopped by a while ago to tell me how the mirror worked.”

He held out a hand and concentrated, summoning an image of the mirror much like Bill had earlier, as he gave Mabel the condensed version of what had happened to him and everything he’d learned from Bill. He left out the bits about Ford and the portal, as well as the detail about how a new person scrying should in theory release him — he didn’t want the kids getting any dumb ideas. He didn’t want them trying what he’d do if their roles were reversed.

“He said that once it’s been twenty-four hours since I used the mirror — so at about eleven PM tonight, I guess — I’ll be trapped inside the portrait forever.” Mabel gasped, and he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Bill said he could get me out, but only if I do him a favor — which I’m never going to do. Not after everything he’s done to my family. I’m not taking his deal.”

“But you can’t just give up!” Mabel told him, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit and shaking him with surprising force. “We need you back here with us, Grunkle Stan!”

“I’m not giving up. I never will — we’ve got that in common, all of us Pines.” Stan smiled, despite himself. “There’s only one time I’ve ever given up in my life, and that was when Gideon took the Shack — but you know how that turned out. You and Dipper saved the day, and proved me wrong.” He patted Mabel on the head, mussing up her hair. “And now I know better than to lose hope ever again.”

“But how will you get back in your body all on your own? Do you have a plan?”

“Not really,” Stan admitted. “Not yet. But I know the type of guy Bill is, and I know how he works. He’s just a big old liar, and he’s not always as good at it as he thinks he is. He’ll make it sound like I’m doomed without his help, but odds are, there’s a loophole somewhere that I can use to escape all on my own. We just need to get the mirror back from the Northwests, so you and Dipper can take a look at it and put his nerd brain, my scam artist brain, and your creative brain together to figure this thing out.”

Mabel took him by the hands. “And if we can’t find a loophole in time?”

“I do have a Plan B, if it comes down to it. There’s definitely a reason why it’s not Plan A, but… it’s always there in case we need it.”

Mabel stared into his eyes, tightening her grip on his hands. “Promise me you won’t do anything risky, Grunkle Stan? We’ve all been really worried about you — Dipper and Wendy and Soos and I…”

“I’m not leaving you, kiddo. Promise.”

Mabel hugged him. “Good.”

Her arms began to flicker, as did Stan’s, and the dream slowly faded to white.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re awake, so you’re going to have to get the others caught up. But I’ll see you again soon, don’t worry.”

He blinked, and found himself floating in the hospital room again, watching Mabel wake up and rub her eyes.

“Hey, Mabel,” Soos said glumly. He looked more exhausted than Stan had ever seen him, even on the days he’d tried to come into work sick. “There haven’t been any updates…”

“You guys, I had an idea!” Dipper practically kicked the door open as he barged back into the room, and Mabel jumped.

“We could use the mindscape spell to find Stan’s memory of how he got knocked unconscious! And if those memories work anything like the way they did last time we were in his mind, we might even be able to communicate directly — Mabel, what’s so funny? This is a serious idea —”

Mabel snickered as she shook her head it Dipper. “You’re right, it is a good idea — but the thing is, Stan kinda already beat you to it.”

***

The hospital room’s quietly ticking clock read 12:15 PM when Mabel finally finished catching the others up on what Stan had told her through her dream.

“You said the Northwests have the mirror now?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah, Stan saw Pacifica take it back to their mansion.”

“The Northwests would never willingly let us take something valuable they owned even if they had two hundred extras,” Wendy declared. “I vote we break in and steal it.”

Mabel gasped. “Okay, Pacifica may be a rich one-dimensional jerk, but she’s not a murderer! If we told her our grunkle’s life was in jeopardy, I’m sure she’d help us!”

“Break in anyway,” Stan told them. “Why are you passing up a morally justifiable chance to do crime?”

“You’re probably right, but I’m not betting Stan’s life on a spoiled rich kid’s moral compass,” Dipper told Mabel. “And even if she does want to help, there’s no guarantee her parents would go along with it.”

“I saw on the news the other day that her parents are out of town for the weekend,” Soos spoke up. “Took a big helicopter and everything.”

“Oh, that explains why they haven’t thrown a hissy fit yet about how the Nathaniel Northwest statue from the town square got stolen last night,” Wendy said. “The second they see it’s gone, they’ll probably sue the city for ruining their family’s image or something.”

Stan groaned. “We have eleven hours! Eleven hours, and you’re on track to spend all of them just sitting here torturing me by exchanging Northwest gossip!”

Dipper flipped through Journal 3. “The Author was no fan of the Northwests. I wonder if he left any blackmail material on them that we haven’t exhausted yet…”

Ford. The realization hit Stan like a truck. I’ve been stuck as a ghost for half the day and I haven’t even tried to do the thing I wanted the mirror for in the first place. I haven’t tried to find Ford!

The kids continued talking amongst themselves, though most of their words went in one of Stan’s ears and out the other.

They’ll be at this for a while — I’ve got time. I made it into Mabel’s dreams, how hard can it be to do the same thing with my own twin? I can do this. I can finally see him again…

The voices and other ambient sounds of the hospital faded as he concentrated on his brother’s face, and reached out into unfamiliar expanse of the multiverse.

***

“Here’s what I don’t get, Grandpa. Can I call you Grandpa? ‘Great-Great-Grandfather’ takes too long to say.”

Cracks formed at the statue’s shoulder and elbows as Nathaniel repositioned his stone arms into a shrug. Why not?

“Why did you only come back to haunt us now? You died almost a hundred and forty years ago, from that riding accident —”

Nathaniel’s eyes flashed orange, and wisps of smoke began to snake out from between the cracks in the statue. Riding accident? Is that what they told you? Well, it certainly did happen at the stables…

“...It didn’t have anything to do with the horses there, did it?” Pacifica realized out loud. “It was the mirror!”

Tell me, granddaughter: what else do the history books say about me? Do they talk about my discoveries in the field of the occult?

Pacifica shook her head.

Of course they don’t! Nathaniel roared. My own two children, Felicity and Eli, disapproved of my study of the monstrous. They thought our influence as Northwests should only extend to the mundane — and so, as I aged and they took more control of the family fortune for themselves, they conspired against me to hide my discoveries from the public! I was a nineteenth-century wizard, Pacifica, and they thought I was insane! I could’ve extended the Northwest’s influence to a whole new society of supernatural beings, but they called me a crazy old man and hired servants to keep me far away from the woods of Gravity Falls!

“That’s horrible! You had a vision, and they stifled it!”

It was horrible indeed, Nathaniel agreed, but the worst betrayal was yet to come.

He gestured to the lantern Pacifica had brought on her ride last night, which was now resting on her bedside table. I see you found my old lantern — did you know that with just a tiny tuft of animal hair added to the oil, it gains the power to illuminate ghosts? I developed that spell myself!

“Really? I didn’t even know this lantern was yours — you must be some kind of genius to develop that spell on your own!”

I certainly am, and it brings me no small amount of joy to see a member of my own line finally appreciating my work! One day when my overbearing children were out of town, I used that lantern to follow several spirits through the forest and out to the farthest reaches of the town, where I discovered a cave —

His voice lowered to a growl. And inside that cave, I found the beast.

The smoke escaping from his ghostly form condensed into a triangular shape, which Nathaniel smashed between two stone fists. Though at the time, I called him my Muse — I had a great many questions, and he had answers. For several months, I made discovery after discovery — capturing new anomalies for scientific analysis, charting the woods and the cave systems…

“But he turned on you too, didn’t he?”

At first, it was just simple disagreements. Different priorities. He wanted us to study other worlds, but I thought Gravity Falls still had untapped potential! More territory to annex, more undocumented supernatural residents to charge rent for their use of our lands — do you have any idea how rich unicorns are? They practically frolick in fields of golden coins! My Muse grew impatient with me, refusing to answer any of my questions that didn’t relate to gates between worlds, but I kept summoning him. Who did he think he was, withholding information from me? From Nathaniel Northwest?!

A hand made of smoke extended from the statue, taking hold of the mirror. But when I told him as much, my Muse not only ‘apologized,’ but in his infinite wisdom, suggested a ‘solution.’ He admitted that he was disinterested in my current work, but helped me create a device that would make me just as all-seeing as he was, so I could continue my research all on my own. And for twenty-four hours… the mirror worked like a charm. I was omniscient.

He flipped open the mirror to reveal the current picture — depicting a gray-haired man in a familiar suit and tie, still lacking facial features. But when my portrait was completed, I was trapped. I couldn’t see anything, least of all my mortal body. My power only grew over my years of imprisonment, and I transformed from a ghost that couldn’t touch the physical world into this powerful specter you see now, but in a cruel twist of fate, I couldn’t leave the mirror to do anything with that power.

Pacifica squinted at the current portrait. “Hang on. Is that…”

Be careful, granddaughter. Stare into the mirror with the intent to scry, and you’ll be trapped yourself. Nathaniel snapped the mirror shut.

The isolation wasn’t even the worst part, he went on. No, the worst part was thirty-two years ago, when I glimpsed freedom! A foolish young researcher was snooping on Northwest property and found my reflective prison, attempting to scry and freeing me in the process — but as it turned out, he was my Muse’s new pupil. His more useful pupil. And so that beast cast a spell over the mirror he’d instructed me to create, freeing his current pawn and trapping me back inside!

“But what did he and his new pawn end up doing? You mentioned something about other worlds — was he some kind of alien?”

If you haven’t seen the result of the beast’s plans all these years later, then he surely failed, Nathaniel mused. Good for him. I can concentrate on extending the family business to the supernatural market, and finally prove my children wrong!

He rubbed his chin. Though at least they managed to insert me in all the history books as town founder, earning me the posthumous respect I deserve! And commissioned a mighty fine statue to commemorate me, at that —

“Actually, Grandpa,” Pacifica interrupted, “most of the town knows you weren’t the founder, as of last Pioneer Day.”

They WHAT?

“Yeah, uh… a couple of kids my age, Dipper and Mabel Pines, dug up some top secret Quentin Trembley documents. Dipper especially made a big deal about rubbing it in my face and telling as many people as possible.”

A tiny bit of stone from one of the statue’s eyes liquified, dropping to the ground and hissing as it struck the floor.

Well then, Nathaniel murmured, I’ll have to let those meddling Pines children know that that’s unacceptable.

***

“I’m gonna stay here,” Soos told the others as they prepared to set off for Northwest Mansion. He pointed towards Stan’s body. “It just feels like someone should stick around to keep an eye on him, you know?”

“Good idea,” Dipper agreed. “That way, you can text Wendy if the doctors have updates.”

Mabel glanced around the room, not sure quite what she was looking for. “You’re here watching us, aren’t you, Stan? If you’re ready to go get the mirror back, can you give us some kind of sign?”

Aside from the ticking clock and beeping heart monitor, the room fell silent. No chills moved through the air, and no objects suspiciously fell off shelves.

“Well, I’m sure he’s still keeping an eye on us,” Mabel assured the others. “Let’s get going.”

***

(End notes:

Thanks for reading, comments/reblogs are appreciated as always! This is the chapter that’s changed the most from the outline so far, since I really love mindscape stuff and elaborated on Mabel’s dream a lot more than I’d planned to. Also, Nathaniel is an overdramatic monologuing capitalist asshole and writing him is very fun.)

#gravity falls #stanley pines #mabel pines #pacifica northwest #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #soos ramirez #fic: to see the unseen #rosalia writes fic

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prorevenge · 6 years ago

Text

Bam, you're homeless!

This happened around 2002, roughly, and requires a big hunk of backstory. I warn you, this is long...really really stupid long. I posted the entire story years ago on a now dead social media site and it was 5 parts long, with pictures. I wont go into nearly as much detail here, but I'll still include enough that you get how horrible the situation was for me and why I did what I did.

Prologue/Backstory:

I was seeing this woman that was about 10 years older than me for about a year. My brother introduced us, as his wife was High School friends with the woman. She had a son from a previous marriage that was about 9 years old when we started dating. We hit it off pretty well, and started dating. She lived with her parents when we met, and since I had a 2BR apartment I invited her and her son to move in with me about 3 months into our relationship. She didn't have a job, but that was OK with me. I had a job where I could move up if I wanted to fairly easily, so we wouldn't need her to have an income. It would be tight, but doable without too much effort. She was mostly nice, even though she had her moments (like all women) where she could be pretty petty. I didn't mind those moments since they were fairly rare, but a few led up to and then fed what happened... so I'll briefly run through them here in a prologue of sorts.

Shortly after we first got together, she brought me over to her parents house (we'd previously met, since she lived there at the start) in order to introduce me to her only sister who was visiting. Everything was fine, but her sister kept making eyes at me. I didn't think much of it until my GF went to the bathroom, and I went to the kitchen to get a drink refill. The sister followed me in and immediately gets right up behind me. I'm a little uncomfortable, but she's just akward close, not touching me... she quietly says "hey, why don't you give me a call sometime, I'll make it worth your time sexy". I was horrified. I had just met her, and I was dating her sister. I told her no thanks, got my drink and hurried back to the livingroom. When my GF came out, I made eye contact and made it clear I was ready to go. She ignored me for almost an hour and we finally leave. The GF gets pissed as soon as we hit the car (pickup truck actually), thinking I was just being a dick. I shut that shit down by explaining what happened. She gets mad and tells me a story about how her sister slept with her ex-husband, and how she was a snake and had stolen boyfriends before too. I tell her I don't ever want to be left alone with her again. I then explain that I am NOT a cheater, I wont ever be that guy, and I don't want to be put in a sketchy situation to be misinterpreted either. She agrees, and acts like everything's cool and I had said the right things.

There were a couple more incidents that, at the time, just seemed like standard jealous girlfriend stuff. One stands out, she had acquired a handful of time-sheets from my work and accused me of taking days off and calling in sick without her knowing it, and accused me of using the days to see other women. I was confused, since I have a good work ethic and very rarely take vacations and virtually never call in sick. Turned out she had gotten my brothers time-sheets (he worked at the same place) and my brother had zero work ethic. He called in all the time to do drugs with his wife. I didn't even ask how she got hold of the time-sheets, I just laughed it off and thought she did too.

About 9 or 10 months into the relationship, I popped 'the question', she said yes. We went ring shopping. Like I said, she didn't work and though I had a job, it wasn't the greatest paying job out there. I made about 30K a year, so things were tight-ish, but getting a nice ring was workable as long as neither of us got too crazy. I figured on a combined budget of about $1000USD to $1500 combined.

She decided she just HAD to have this ring that was right at $5000. I told her there was no way I could afford that, and my credit was so crappy at the time they couldn't finance it. I joked that if I was going to spend $5K that it would be on a wedding car, not a ring since she was borrowing her dads car to get around. I told her to pick out something more in line with our budget, and we'd get better rings in the future for an anniversary. She said OK, but I could tell she was pissed. I found a ring I really liked (about $150) but she couldn't find anything and kept looking at the expensive ring giving me puppy dog eyes. The clerk wasnt helping, he kept handing her the ring and saying how nice it looked on her. I was mad, and just decided it was better we leave and come back another day. Give her time to think about it.

A few days later, we're at her parents house and her dad pulls me off to the side. Now, her dads a great guy. I really liked him a lot, so I liked being at his house and he seemed to really like me too. He says to me "My daugher says she found a ring she likes, but you cant afford it..." I get a little irritated that she would tell her father that, and he sees it "Don't get upset, I'm not going to try to convince you to buy it. I want to buy it....but you cant tell her I did." I tell him thanks, but no, I cant do that...he's already paying for the wedding that we haven't even planned yet. I remind him that he has no idea how much he'll end up forking over for that yet. He insists. He wants his baby to be happy, and he wants her to be happy with me. After some more argument, I agree....but only if he allows me to pay him back, which he does. About a week later, me and him go get the ring she wanted. I made sure a different clerk from the first time got the sale, fuck that guy. I gave it to her that night, and cue the fireworks and the bedside lamp cut-scene. We were back on track.

The day of the wedding arrives, we'd been together almost a year at this point, and it's great. We have a noon wedding at this old wooden church from the early 1800's, and the reception in a nearby field with an old tobacco barn. It was very picturesque but brief, since we'd arranged to go to Orlando for our honeymoon, her choice. Since I could get a good deal by going through a vacation planner from work, provided I went to this timeshare thing, it worked out. We got 1 night in a nice hotel, had to go to a hard-sell timeshare thing the next day for about 2hrs, and got free tickets to Epcot for the following day for about $200. Normally the Epcot tickets alone would have been nearly that. We would then have to switch hotels and had planned to stay for an additional week to see the rest of the city.

End Epilogue (told you it was going to be long) and begin the REAL story:

The reception ends, and we head straight to the courthouse to file the wedding certificate since it was 4:30pm and they closed at 5pm. I park and run inside, she stays in the truck since she's still in her wedding dress. They had closed early. Fuck. I knew we had 10 days after the wedding to file the certificate, and we were only planning to be gone about 5 to 7 days max. I also knew that if she found out that she'd insist we wait until the next day to leave. That would ruin the first night in the good hotel, and I had no idea if it would stop us from doing the timeshare thing potentially ruining Epcot too. I made an executive decision on the way back to the car to just...not tell her. I could file when we got back, no problem. She would never need to know.

We went back to my apartment, and changed into travel clothes and put the suitcases into the back of the truck and left. When she wasn't paying attention, I slipped the wedding certificate into her purse inside a little zipper section I knew she rarely used. I figured it would be safer there than anywhere else. In hindsight I should have left it in the apartment.

I should note that at the time I drove a Barney purple Ford Ranger splash. It stood out. My brother had written the standard "just Married" stuff ALL OVER IT in bright red paint. It really stood out. We took off, and after many people honking and we waved at everyone that did, we arrived in Orlando about 3hrs later. We check in to the Embassy Suites, take a very fun joint shower and after several 'fun-time' hours go to sleep. The next day we do the timeshare seminar thing, get the Epcot tickets and check out. I find a cheaper, but still nice, motel close to Epcot and check in. It's a Masters Inn with exterior room doors, not interior with a hallway (image search 'Masters Inn' and you'll get what I mean). We put our stuff in the room, and immediately leave.

I grew up on the Eastside of Orlando, so I take her on the grand tour of all my childhood memories. My elementary school, the old neighborhood, the local hangouts telling her my early life story at every turn. I also take her to meet my paternal Grandfather who lived in Winter Park, just outside Orlando at the time. We go to dinner and head back to the motel around 8pm with plans to go to Epcot early so we can spent the entire day. We were going to take the shuttle, but since we both smoked we decided it would be better to take my truck instead.

The day goes great with two exceptions. I wore some pants that were a bit loose on me, and couldn't find a belt for sale at the park. I spent the whole day hitching up my britches, which made me mildly irritable. Second, she was being overly affectionate for a family theme park, and I knew Disney didn't tolerate that level of PDA and would throw you out if it got out of hand. I had to keep telling her no when she wanted to do more than a quick kiss. She was sticking her tongue down my throat, and getting handsy...then she got mad when I told her to knock it off.

By the time we left Epcot, we were both a little irritable but still in a generally OK mood. We stopped at a 7-11 on the way home. They're selling these pre-made whiskey/coke things, and I feel that they'll help the mood so I buy 4 of them. We pull into the Masters Inn, go up to our room, and...the key doesn't work. I go to the lobby and tell the clerk, he pulls up the room and says no ones checked into that room. After a brief discussion, we realize I'm an idiot and went to the wrong Masters Inn...there's a couple of them in town, and since every street in Orlando looks basically the same, I went the wrong way and ended up at the wrong one.

She thinks this is evidence that I'm stupid and keeps harping on me about it the whole drive to our actual motel. We go inside, take a shower and decide to drink. The drinks are warm, so I say I'm going to go get ice and leave the room wearing pink sweatpants (hers) and a tanktop. I did it to make her laugh, which she did, and figured the ice machine would be close so no worries. I was wrong. I walked around the entire motel looking for a machine. The only one they had was in the lobby, so I fill two buckets (not wanting to go back) and head back to the room.

Shes. Not. There. The clothes she wore at the park, which were on the floor when I left, are gone. I figure she ran down to the truck to get something, so I pour drinks. She isn't back, so I look outside and don't see her by the truck. Neither of us had cellphones at the time, so I just lay down and started flipping channels waiting.

She comes back maybe 5 minutes later and her first words are a loud "FUCK YOU". I just stare at her, and she starts yelling about how I didn't go get ice, I was calling all my bitches back home and that she knew I was cheating on her. I point at the ice buckets and simply say "Ice"...she goes ballistic saying "You were gone for fucking 20 minutes, I knew you were cheating, my sister told me not to trust you!". I get mad because her sister is the one who slept with her last husband, I remind her of that, and how she also hit on me and that I had nothing to do with her because of it. She launches into a tirade about how her sister followed me around and saw me with several convenience store clerks near my job, and that I was busted. She then states "Thats ok, I own you now...you wont be driving yourself to work ever again! I will! If you go anywhere from now on it will be with me or my son, and you can forget about sex for at least a month!"

I'm beside myself...I might have actually had an out of body experience. I very calmly say "are you done?" She goes on for another couple minutes in the same vein, and finally says "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

I work in Corrections, so I'm no stranger to tense verbal situations that could lead to violence, so I don't yell at all. I say, very calmly, "I will drive myself wherever the fuck I please, with or without whoever the fuck I want. I don't cheat, I have never cheated, I WILL never cheat. If you trust your lying sack of shit sister more than the man you married, then maybe you should have married her instead." She screams "MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE!" so I reply with "so are you saying we're done? I refuse to live like you just described. If that's the only option, then you're saying we're done. Are we done?"

She yells "WE'RE DONE WHEN I SAY WE'RE DONE....YOU'RE DONE, BUT WE AREN'T BY A LONGSHOT...I...OWN....YOU!!"

I reply with "so we're done. Get some sleep, we're going back home in the morning". Neither of us get much sleep, but we dont talk to each other at all. The next morning, around 9am, I ask her "Have you calmed down, or are we still through" she answers with a very angry "Fuck you asshole"...so I get up, and start loading our stuff. I tell her "get in the truck or get left" and she wisely gets in.

The Revenge Begins

At this point I'm not 100% sure we're officially over yet, I just know we aren't staying in Orlando just to fight. On the drive out of Orlando, people are honking at us because of the 'just married' stuff, and she's yelling at them, giving them the finger. My windows are very darkly tinted, so I doubt anyone really saw her, but I still tell her to knock that shit off. She rolls the window down, and before I can say anything she's taken off her wedding ring and thrown it out the window.

I start laughing. She gets says "what're you laughing at, I hope you enjoy paying for that!". I drop the bombshell: "your dad bought that ring, he did it so you'd be happy and made me swear not to tell you...enjoy telling him you threw his 5K away bitch" at this point I know we're over for good. She starts yelling for me to pull over on the East-West Expressway...yeah, right! It's a 4-lane toll road, very busy, everyone going 70mph+, with a very narrow shoulder. I tell her she's fucked, that ring is gone. She's furiously yelling, but I cant stop smiling because I feel like I've just avoided a lifetime of misery and somehow everything happened like it did just to save me...but it gets better/worse.

We get back to town and when I slow down to turn down the road to my apartment, she screams "Take me home you fucker, take me home now!", so I head to her parents house about 4 miles away. As soon as I stop she says "bye motherfucker", jumps out, slams the shit out of the door, and runs inside. I guess she thought I'd just go home. I did not. I got out and walked up to the door. Her dad opened it before I could knock and steps out. He says "Rodnaxela, what happened, whats going on???" So I explain it to him, and include that she threw the ring out the window. He is instantly mad. I think he's mad at both of us, but he's not. He tells me to come in and I do. Mom is sitting there (she's wheelchair bound, has a British accent and is completely awesome), and she looks like she wants to cry....which makes me want to cry. My GF comes out of the kitchen, sees me, and starts swearing a blue streak as she grabs her purse and her dads car keys. She bolts out the door and takes off to god knows where. I stay there for about an hour explaining everything that went down.

They drop a bombshell. They tell me that she has been married 3 previous times, and ruined all of them with her anger and jealousy. They are sorry for not telling me, but they really liked me and wanted me in their family. They hoped that I would be the one to settle her down since it seemed like we never fought and I was really good at de-escalating. I tell them I understand, and apologize for the whole situation and leave.

It's on the way home that I remember the wedding certificate and have an "oh fuck" moment. I initially have no idea what to do, or how to get it from her without her knowing since we now hate each other. I go home and start putting all her shit into garbage bags. I haven't mentioned her son much because even though his mother and I lived together, he spend 99% of the time at her parents house. He had the spare room set up for when he stayed there, but he rarely did. I packed what little he had more carefully than I had hers, using an actual box.

While I was packing, she showed up with my brother. Turns out she was over there talking shit. She was high school friends with his wife, so it didn't strike me as odd when I thought about it. It also didn't strike me odd that my brother was acting like a dick because he likely believed her version of the story and his wife being friends with her drove it home. They loaded up her stuff, stole a moderate amount of my stuff (including some of the wedding gifts/checks I was going to return, didn't notice that for a week) and left. My dear bother forged my signature on the checks and cashed them the next day, which I didn't find out for awhile. She didn't have her purse with her, so there was no opportunity to retrieve the certificate.

After she left, I called her dad and asked if the purse in question was there. She had several. He looked and couldn't find it, he asked why but I didn't tell him. I asked him to call me when she got home, no matter how late it was. I had formulated a plan that I wasn't sure would work, but had to try.

He called around 11pm and said she had just come in, he was whispering so she didn't know he was calling me. Perfect. I drove over and knocked on the door. She answered. "what the fuck do you want?" she says. I earned the academy award by putting on a sad face and saying "baby, please, this has gone far enough. I love you. I'll do whatever you want, just don't leave me...please...lets go get something to eat and talk...I'll do anything you want" she looks at me for a minute, gets this cruel look and says give me a minute. I stand there trying to keep looking sad in case she peeks out the window, and after a couple minutes she steps back outside..With. The. Purse!!!

Without warning, as she steps down the stairs, I snatch the purse from her and run into the yard. I get the certificate out and start waving it around. She has no clue whats going on and just stands there. I yell "I got the wedding certificate bitch, they were closed, I never filed it you cunt!!!" as she starts to move towards me, I throw her purse at her and start ripping up the certificate. I throw half of the pieces in her face and jump in my truck and haul ass away. Best moment of my life.

So far it's just petty revenge bordering on pro. I was gotten as good as I gave, and maybe I got the worse end of it since she got the wedding money. This is where it goes into pro level, maybe even nuclear...possibly even supernova levels, even though I was only partially the reason her life ended up being ruined.

I get back home feeling very happy with myself, and start watching TV. I even still have about a week and a half left on my vacation. Fuck Yeah! Then my phone rings, it's my brother. He starts yelling at me that I'm an asshole and that I'll pay for doing what I did and he'll make sure of it. I hang up on him, and turn off my ringer. I start thinking about what he said and realize that he may have planted something while he was here. I know he's into pills and smokes dope, so I wouldn't put it past him. I immediately start searching my house. I empty every closet, every cupboard, strip the beds, vacuum and basically spend the next 2 days cleaning that place better than it's ever been cleaned. I keep running across these tiny ziploc baggies in weird places. Under the bathroom sink, under the couch, behind books on a shelf....and I have no idea why. The bags are big enough to put a bottlecap in at most and look dusty inside. Then it hits me when I find some 2 inch (5cm) straws under the bed. Cocaine. Shit.

I go BACK through the whole place and find a couple more baggies and a few more straws. At this point I have no idea my brother is into coke, and the amount of baggies with the apparent age of some of them makes me think they're all my exes. I'm pissed, so I call her dad. I tell him what I've been finding and he gets quiet. He says "Rodnaxela, I'm so sorry, I thought she was done with that, I should have warned you...I'm so sorry" I'm floored as he explains that she's had coke issues off and on for years. She had said she quit when her parents threatened to fight for custody of her kid and throw her out if she didn't. This was a few months before we started dating. I inform him that I can get some drug tests from work fairly easily if he wants, he says he may want them and that he'll call me back.

The next day I get a call from her dad. He had just confronted her and told her that if she refused to pee in a cup, with her mother watching, whenever they wanted her to she would be thrown out on the street. She refused and they told her she had 5 days to either get out or reconsider. I told him to let me know if she reconsidered, and I'd get him the tests. He never called me back, and we never spoke again. Due to some things my brother stirred up at work, I wasnt speaking to him anymore either, so I didnt find out what all happened for a while.

About 6 months later I found out through a mutual friend that they had thrown her out, and when she didn't contact them or her son for about 2 months they filed for custody based on abandonment (not sure all of the specifics). Last I heard, they had raised him to be a good man and his mother was last seen living under a highway overpass, but that was several years ago. She's either dead now or maybe under another overpass in another city...at least that's how I prefer to picture her.

There is a whole 'rest of the story' that involves my brother trying to ruin my life because of this situation. Turns out he and my ex were doing coke together, but all the connections were hers...when I ended things, she cut him out. He went to work the week before I came back and spread some pretty fucked up lies about me and how the breakup happened. I was new to the institution at the time and was scheduled to start a new shift on my return, so it was perfect timing on his part....but that's a whole different story that I might write at some point, since I got revenge on several people over the course of things.

If enough people say this rises to the level of nuclear or supernova, I'll crosspost.

TL;DR I marry some bitch, she thinks that means she can turn me into her slave, turns out we weren't really married and she ends up losing her kid and living under a bridge like a cunty troll.

(source) story by (/u/Rodnaxela)

#prorevenge #by /u/Rodnaxela #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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70swonderpoisonstark · 5 years ago

Text

Wait, you survived?

// You and Steve survive the plane wreck and end up seventy years in the future. Everything’s different and the only person that understands the confusion and pain of losing your entire world is your now dead husband’s best friend. When the two of you are forced to adapt to the world around you, things can get complicated. //

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I've gotta put her in the water.

Please don't do this we have time- d- we can work it out.

Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere, if I don't put her down now a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice. Peggy?

I'm here.

I'm gonna need a raincheck on that dance.

Alright, a week next saturday, at the stork club.

You got it.

8 o'clock on the dot, don't you dare be late, understood?

You know I still don't know how to dance?

I'll show you how, just be there.

We'll have the band play something slow, I'd hate to step on your-

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"Steve, we lost comms." You say, sniffling as you dive deeper towards the icey plain ahead of you. Steve takes your hand in his, holding back tears not for himself, but for knowing you had to die too. He best friend's girl, too stubborn to wait for Hydra to be taken down that you forcefully threw yourself into the howling commandos. He could live with sacrificing himself, but you? The closest thing he had to Bucky himself? It sent a knife straight through his heart.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I never meant for all this to happen. I just, I"

"It's okay, Steve." You squeezed his hand as you cut him off, fighting the tears threatening to fall. "It's okay, Steve. We're gonna go see Bucky, everything will be fine." You kept your hands together, the warmth between the two of you the only comforting part of this entire ordeal. You pulled the metal chain out of your shirt with you free hand, smiling fondly as you read 'James Buchanan Barnes DOB: 03-10-1916' knowing that you'd finally be able to see him again. You softly ran your finger over your wedding band and engagement ring. Remembering that sweet moment when it seemed like you had all the time in the world with the love of your life, no earthly idea of the pain you'd endure a few months afterwards.

"We're going to see Bucky." Steve squeezed your hand firmly, the ice was dangerously close. You both closed your eyes, refusing to let go of the other, relaxing as the ice hit the metal of the plane with a crack, knocking you both unconscious,and into the icey tomb that would keep you both for all eternity.

~70 years later~

After the initial shock of waking up seventy years later, Steve went with Fury back to headquarters and was further explained his situation.

"So you see, the serum made you resistant to the cold. You froze, but not the way the average person would. The serum functioned as a shield to your vital organs and cells, allowing you to freeze slower, keeping your cells from-" Steve jumped up aggressively, his memory returning to him in fleeting glimpses, all he saw was you hair, a red ribbon, and a gleaming smile.

"(Y/N)! Where's (Y/N)? Mr. Fury, I went down with a-a friend, a woman, we went down together, in the plane. Where is she, please tell me you found her too?” Silence followed as Steve mind raced. THoughts flying about at a million miles an hour as he tried to find a way that you might have survived, knowing his heart couldn’t take the loss of another dear friend. “

Oh god, she's dead isn't she? She's dead? You said it yourself a normal person couldn't-" Steve knew, but saying out loud was a whole different monster. He couldn't lose them both, losing his entire way of life was tragic enough, but you AND Bucky? Nothing could prepare him for the intense sorrow that overcame him in those few seconds of speech. He lowered his head to his hands, slinking down to the cold floor, and sobbed, knowing the people who knew him best were gone.

"Captain Rogers, she's not dead. We found her right next to you. Our team can't explain how she survived, but she did." Steve's head quipped up, putting his tears to a halt. Could you really be alive?

"I need to see her, right now, please." Nick Fury was known as a cold and calculated man, but the way this American legend looked up at him, crushed his soul. He could see the hurt, the desire for you to be alive, the hopeful gleam in his eyes. He was praying for you to be alive, begging, pleading with God for you to somehow still be breathing the same air, not daring to believe it before he saw it himself. So Fury obliged, and took Steve, not the Captain, straight to you.

All it took for Steve was a single nod and he ran into your room, opening the door faster and louder than he'd intended.

You jumped, frightened at the loud SLAM of the door as it hit the plaster wall on it's right. You looked up at the source, ready to attack, when the sweet baby faced Steven Rogers was standing right in front of you.

"Steve! You're alive! What-" You ran up to him, embracing him in the warmest hug, crying into his large shoulder as he lifted you off the ground.

"(Y/N) I can't believe you're here, I don't, I'm so, God, (Y/N) ." He pulled away slightly, looking at your beautiful face as you wept happily. He took your face in his hand, wiping away tears of his own, and looked into your eyes.

"Steve, what are we going to do, they have portable phones, I could barely work a radio back home and.." More sobbing, you hugged Steve again, body shaking with every sob you made. Steve knew this was a lot, it was a lot for him too, but at least somebody would be learning everything right there with him.

"Hey, hey, it's going to be okay (Y/N), it's going to be okay." Steve rubbed your back, gently caressing you hair as you cried into his chest. When he felt like you'd calmed down enough, he tilted you chin up with two of his fingers, gazing deeply into your eyes so that the effect of his words would resonate. "As long as I'm alive, you'll never have to worry about a thing, okay? I'm going to take care of you, you're my best girl all right?" You hated that line, even when Bucky used to say it, but hearing it right here in this moment, looking in his eyes, helped ease the ache in your heart, and you believed him fully. Fury cleared his throat, clearly wanting to break up the scene in front of him.

"It's not much, but we've got a decent place for the two of you in Brooklyn, figured you two might need some time before you get back to work."

"Work?" Your voice was almost a whisper, what work could the two of you possibly be good for? You're only superpower was your stubbornness, and Steve's his inability to be careful. In the forties, yes you two were apart of a formidable team, but now? The common cold could probably kill the both of you.

"Yes, both of you have jobs here, at SHIELD, whenever you're ready. We had our historians find and read all of your files in order to gauge where and what you'll be doing. Steve was easy, but you Dr. Barnes, were tough. But even with the times, a weapons expert like you can be very useful. Until then, rest, relax. The world's a very different place now, take some time before you come back." Fury led you to a car, a very fancy, futuristic black Honda Accord (What's a Honda, Steve? Is that like our old Ford, do we know if this is even safe, look at all those buttons.") When you were dropped off at your already furnished apartment you were given credit cards, per SHIELD to 'get your life together', and books and magazines to catch up on the times. You were given fashion magazines, because apparently tan and grey were not as fashionable as you thought, and Steve couldn't read one of those things to save his life so you had to find a way to conceal that you were both from a time of button ups and showing knees was scandalous. Great.

Steve tried to figure out the TV, and sports, and holy- there were so many things to watch on the tv. And you could actually watch them, not just listen in. You could see the athletes run and bat and hit. It was so much, and all in color too.

You had figured out the internet pretty fast. You just told it what you wanted and it listened, kinda. It had a very skinny typewriter attached to a screen, it was called a 'Laptop'. You found clothes, common topics for conversation, current events, and ways to research all the time you and Steve had missed.

"Steve! Look, it's an article about us!" You read quietly, blah blah blah, Captain America, blah blah blah, Steve Rogers, "Okay mainly an article about you, but still!" Blah blah blah, American hero. Whatever nevermind. It's not like you were one of the few people that could handle and rival Starks ingenuity, but yeah let's worship the guy on steroids sure. You closed the laptop, knowing you had plenty of errands to run you yelled out, "Steve! I'm going to buy clothes and food, you want anything?"

"Liquor, lots of it. And plaid, please tell me I can still wear plaid!" Chuckling, at least he hadn't changed. You stepped out the front door of your apartment, happy to get out into the new world and try and adapt. You were always up for a challenge in the 40's, why should this be any different? You wandered around the streets of New-New york, glancing at the windows with ridiculous amounts of color and materials. The skirts and dresses were so short, you couldn't imagine walking home in something like that back then. But wearing a floor length gown wasn't going to be very casual either. You have to get with the times, you told yourself. Maybe the shopkeepers would be of some help. You walked into the first store you passed, very casual, laid back. The second you walked in you were met with two smiling faces and a "Can I help you find anything in particular?" You nodded and explained your situation (Except for the fact that you were from the 40's, were frozen for 70 years and were now living with your dead husband's best friend who just so happened to be Captain America((Okay so you completely lied and didn't tell them anything, whatever)).

You walked out of the shop hours later, walking in and out of every store you liked buying what looked good on you. It was nice having this luxury, you usually made your own baggy clothes at home, now it seemed like everything was perfectly tailored no matter what. You walked into the liquor store, knowing Steve would try to get drunk as best he could you grabbed the strongest stuff you could find, 96% Vodka, and Everclear. Should do the trick, or at least kind of. You smiled at the guy at the register as he checked you out.

"Can I see your ID, ma'am?" You froze slightly, your ID, for what?

"Uh, sure." Nobody's ever asked for your ID when you bought alcohol, what was he even going to do with it, you were obviously of age, what a pointless thing to ask for. You handed him the thin piece of plastic. All it says is (Y/N) (Y/L/N) DOB: (Y/DOB/1919) Oh shit. 1919? He wouldn't believe that at all! Shit shit shit shit shit!! You sat there anxiously as he read over the typed letters on your ID. The cashier shrugged, "Cool, thank you for your service. That'll be $65.78" He handed you your ID back and bagged your liquor. You paid and left, astonished he wasn't thrown of by your date of birth. You pulled out the ID to look at it, "WHAT?" You yelled.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N) DOB: (Y/DOB/1994) Ninety-four? That's not even close to accurate! What..." You pocketed the ID, not wanting to open up another can of worms that could be taken care of later.

You were thankful for the new clothes, Steve and you were going to fit in perfectly, you had already changed at one of the stores and were now in a high waisted body fit (You can't remember the exact term she'd used to describe it) black and white plaid skirt, a black turtleneck sweater tucked in, paired with knee high black boots and a very stylish black purse. You liked the new look, and felt very modern wearing such revealing clothes, people could see your figure, what a crazy idea these future people had! Your hair was straight, and one of the makeup ladies had fixed you up with a very casual, modern, look. ((Which was just a rip off of what you used to do anyways but)) You dragged all the bags and alcohol up to the top floor of the apartment building and yelled into your apartment as you unloaded.

"Steve! I got the goods!" You turned around and started filling the shelves with food and alcohol, leaving the clothes for later. "You'd been so shocked, they asked for my ID, to make sure I was old enough to buy alcohol!" You heard him clobber his was into the kitchen, "Me! I've never had that happen before, it was so crazy I-" You turned around to see Steve, frozen five feet away from you, jaw on the floor. "Are you just going to stand there and watch me do all the work?" You turned your back, amused at his reaction. He was always such a dork when it came to food, it wasn't even that much and there he was pretending like you'd just bought a buffet.

Steve was down for the count. He always knew you were stunning, but whatever new-age clothes you were wearing solidified the fact that Bucky always knew how to pick 'em. For the first time in Steve's life, your unique body wasn't covered in baggy tan and gray military clothes. It was beautiful, a sudden ping of jealousy and guilt poking him in the side as he mindlessly looked you over. The only thing he'd ever seen you in that was even close to being this fitted was the bulletproof corset Bucky got Stark to make for you as a wedding gift. Forcefully, Steve refocused his attention on the food, trying his hardest not to try and compliment you. His words never came out right, and with other girls he could mess up and be fine, but you were Bucky's girl and that wasn't a line he was willing to cross, even by accident.

//Special shoutout to @lunathepettuna who asked for a Steve related something! Love ya girl! //

#bucky x you #steve x you #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel X reader #winter soldier #captain america #love triangle #modern steve x reader #conflict #marvel fandom #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avenger love story

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