#Brooklyn meow/rain/she

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Rainy Days- B.Barnes

Summary: A rainy Monday spent between Bucky, his lover and Alpine.

Parings: Bucky x Fem!Reader, very brief mentions of Steve and Sam

Fic Warnings: Use of Y/N(only once), Fem!reader, soft!Bucky, Bucky dog-ears book pages, mention of the book A Little Life.

Author’s Note: There is dog-ear slander in this fic, I personally hate dog-earing book pages so it’s in here. Feedback is always welcomed and my asks are open if you want to ask me any questions. I am not taking requests at this time but I will definitely post if I ever open them.

My full Masterlist

Hope you enjoy! :)

Word Count: 970

gif not mine

It was an early autumn morning on a mundane Monday in Brooklyn. Rush hour was just starting, the sounds of the cars passing by the apartment window as well as the gentle patter of the rain were relaxing. She didn’t want to get out of bed. It was warm, the mood was just right and she was wrapped in the arms of the man she loved. Bucky was still fast asleep beside her, mumbling incoherent phrases in his slumber, sometimes catching a few words that did make sense which made her quietly giggle. 

She knew that once his nose twitched, he was starting to wake. Letting out a soft hum, he pulled his lover closer to his chest and sighed contently once feeling the weight of her head close to his heart. He was awake but was refusing to open his eyes, clinging to sleep, hoping he could find his way back to dreamland. Of course that got interrupted by the incessant meowing at the foot of their warm and cozy bed. The couple broke out of their bubble in a fit of sleepy laughter.

“Poor girl, you feelin’ left out, Alpine?” Bucky chuckled, finally opening his eyes. He had opened his free hand out to the white ball of fur, who greedily started rubbing her head on his palm. Alpine had waltzed her way up the bed and planted herself right on his chest, her tail smacking Y/N in the face as it flitted around happily. Bucky let out another sleepy chuckle when he noticed that his girl was getting assaulted by the cat’s tail. “You’re smacking your mama in the face, come here,” He patted his empty shoulder which Alpine quickly and happily took over. Now it was Bucky getting smacked in the face with her tail but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Good morning, handsome,” She smiled up at him, her voice just as tired as his was.

“Good morning, gorgeous. You okay with staying in bed all day?” Before she could answer, he kissed her lips lovingly, not caring about morning breath, just her.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else.” Alpine let out a loud meow in protest, obviously hungry. “Maybe after we feed this little gremlin,” She laughed softly before sitting up and slowly getting out of bed. As she left their bedroom, Alpine jumped right down and followed her out, Bucky sighing softly once more. He was thanking whoever sent this woman into his life. 

When she reentered the room, he took in her appearance. Her hair disheveled, the mascara that refused to come off now smudged under her eyes, her eyes bleary and still very much sleepy and her body practically drowning in his blue t-shirt. In her hands she held two cups of coffee, hers was in a mug with his face on it, which Steve had gotten her as a joke but now it was her favorite and his was in a mug with Sam’s EXO-7 wings on it, which Sam had given him as a housewarming gift, he would never admit it but it was his favorite mug.

He grunted as he sat up in bed, accepting the cup of coffee gratefully and pulling her back into his arms once she was sat down on the bed again. The two of them enjoyed the silence for a while, just listening to the rain and the cars passing by. Bucky started a quiet conversation that spiraled, the two of them talking for hours in bed, just enjoying each other’s company. Traffic was long gone, the rain coming to an end, their coffee cups empty, the music that Bucky turned on playing softly in the back. Of course it was 40s music because the man refused to listen to anything else, his guilty pleasure was Harry Styles but he never told a soul about that one.

“You wanna pick up where we left off last night?” Bucky asked her.

“Where were we?” She asked back. 

He pulled the book from his nightstand, a gently used copy of A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, and opened it to the page that held the bookmark. It was a bookmark that she had made for him when she learned about his horrible habit of dog-earing pages, the design simple but it was the thought she put behind it, the color she chose the same blue as his eyes; a daffodil pressed into the paper under the laminate, his birth flower which he had learned once it was gifted to him; and the handwritten words ‘I love you, James Barnes’ sat neatly on the bottom of the bookmark. Every time he saw it, he smiled.

“Looks like we left off with going into a little bit of Jude’s backstory. You ready?” When she nodded, he began reading aloud. Smiling even wider when she nestled herself under his vibranium arm, her head resting on his chest, right above his heart, her arms finding themselves around his waist. As they read on, the rain picked up again but they didn’t seem to notice. It felt like it was just the two of them in the whole world and of course Alpine. The further Bucky got into the book, the less he noticed around him, when he finally looked away from the page, he saw that she had fallen asleep again. Soft snores falling from her slightly parted lips, her arms hanging loosely around his waist, the neckline of her(his) shirt shifted to the right and there was nothing more perfect to him than this, than the love of his life fast asleep in his arms, dreaming of their future together. It didn’t take him long to follow after her, quickly finding himself in a peaceful slumber that he only seems to get with her in his arms.

[dreamsinthewitchouse]

Happy pride month Kay!! 🌈 Hugs and congratulations on your milestone 💚💜

For the prompt: Stucky + rain 🌧️

Em! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 Thank you so much! ✨

I was having A Lot of ~Feelings~ and then this happened. Stucky + rain, Teen, 0.8k READ ON AO3

1. 

Rain in Brooklyn means long days spent indoors, not affording to risk Steve getting ill if they were to venture outside and get their feet wet. 

On days like this it’s just them, hunkered up in Steve’s room, and Bucky loves the sound of the water hitting the fire escape railing. Steve is curled up in an armchair with his sketchpad, Bucky reading a dime novel at his feet. 

When the rain eventually stops Steve climbs onto the window sill, turning his face up towards the lavender sky. 

”Buck, get up here!” 

Bucky does, putting the book away and settling next to Steve so their bony knees bump against each other. 

”Look,” Steve whispers, pointing between two buildings. ”A rainbow.” 

----

2.

It rains a lot in London, and Bucky feels like an exposed nerve, all the painful things he's trying not to think about sitting on the surface of his skin, but no matter how much it pours the water doesn’t wash away the hurt. 

It rains the night they make love in the room above the bar, the pitter-patter of it echoed in the way Bucky’s fingers skip over the notches of Steve’s spine; up, up, up, and then down again. 

I will not leave you again, Bucky thinks. I don’t care what happens. One day they can try to drag my bones away from yours, and if they do, they’ll crumble to dust and I’ll never be apart from you. 

----

3.

It rains while he waits across the road from the hospital in D.C, holding a cup of coffee long gone cold. 

He sees the man with the wings step outside, pulling a hood over his baseball cap; futile shelter from the relentless downpour.

He wants to walk up to him; to say something, to ask if he is okay. 

To say he’s sorry. 

To say a lot of things he doesn’t know how to. 

(Later on it’s the red-haired woman, looking straight at him the moment she’s through the revolving doors. A truck passes between them, spraying water onto the sidewalk, and she’s gone. 

He feels like he’s seen her somewhere, before all this, and he doesn’t really want to remember where, or how.) 

He turns around and doesn’t recognise the reflection he sees in the cafe window; just a shell, with bits of a person bleeding through, slowly filling in the cracks. 

----

4. 

He gets caught in the rain two weeks into his stay in Bucharest, and while he’s waiting it out under an awning he sees a white cat dart out of an alley, small and wet and dirty.

“Hey buddy.” He scoots down, holding out a hand. ”You a stray like me, huh?” 

She meows, pushing her head into his palm. 

Bucky starts feeding her, knowing it’s not safe or smart to get attached to another living being, but the need to feel needed, to feel like he’s doing something besides just existing, surviving, is so strong he can’t help himself. 

(But maybe he can help her; save her. And maybe she’ll save him, too.) 

----

5. 

Wakanda after rain smells like fresh earth and flowers and something a lot like hope. 

Bucky is huddled in the doorway to his hut, the smallest and feistiest of the goats dozing under the edge of his quilt. 

He runs his fingers through the coarse fur. “You asleep, Stevie?” 

“Nope,” comes the answer from inside, the word slightly soft around the edges with exhaustion, and Bucky feels something come loose inside his chest. 

“I was talking to the goat,” he says, turning to see Steve make his way towards him, eyes bleary and hair sticking up every which way. “You, on the other hand, have been up for 40-something hours and should be in bed.” 

Steve comes to a stop right behind him, his hand threading gently through his hair. Bucky closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. Stevie the goat stirs against his leg in its sleep. 

“Not without you,” Steve says, so quietly Bucky can barely hear him. 

----

+1.

“Buck!” 

Bucky looks up to see Steve poke his head out of the third-floor window. 

“Are you guys gonna come back inside? It’s fucking pouring.” 

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.” Bucky grins up at him, shielding his face with his hand. “Parker got stuck in a tree.” 

“Did not,” a voice behind him calls out. “I was just helping out a cat.” 

Bucky spreads his arms. “See? This is why our girl’s not allowed outside, not even on a leash.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve looks both amused and annoyed. ”But really, you should get up here, MJ is destroying me at jenga.” 

Bucky raises an eyebrow. ”Surely not worse than Nat?” 

”You’ve no idea.” 

”Okay.” Bucky runs a hand through his wet hair and glances over his shoulder. “Hey, kid! We gotta go save Rogers from your girlfriend.” 

[provider-of-pronoun-checks]

can i get a pronoun check for the name brooklyn and meow/rain/she pronouns thanks

Ofc Brooklyn!

This is Brooklyn! I don't know very much about meow, but I'm sure rain is really cool! I use some of the same pronouns as her! Meow seems to have really cool pronouns! I might have to steal rain/rains from rain :0

I wonder if she likes cats? I'll have to ask meow later! If so, does rain like dogs as well? If Brooklyn likes dogs, what's her favorite breed?

Regardless I hope Brooklyn has a great day and takes care of meowself.

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

lost

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Summary: You get a little surprise when a random cat decides to make itself at home in your apartment. Turns out her home is actually the apartment above yours.

Warnings: petnames (doll), fluffy fluff fluff, bucky is a big ol’ flirt in this. This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Author's note: I’m not entirely convinced on this but I'm hoping it'll get me back in the groove! There will be a part 2 and it will probably get steamy 😏. I hope you enjoy this, as always reblogs and comments are super appreciated! (word count: 1.9k)

The heat in Brooklyn was stifling. The air around you was static with the impending storm. That, combined with your broken air conditioner, made for your apartment becoming your own personal hell. You’d opened all the windows and doors to try and make the most of the slight breeze, but really it was a worthless effort.

Sighing for what felt like the 100th time that day you flop onto the love seat by the window determined to finish the book you were reading but after about ten minutes your eyes start to get heavy and before you know it you're fast asleep.

You startle awake at the sudden crack of thunder. Looking outside just in time to see the downpour start. Smiling to yourself, as the cooler air hits your heated skin.

Turning back around you yelp, seeing a mass of white fur with striking blue eyes sat on your coffee table staring at you.

“Oh, hello. Where did you come from?” you chuckle breathlessly.

The cat perks up at your voice, hopping off the table and onto your lap.

“Aren’t you a friendly one, huh,” you laugh, scratching behind their ear, smiling to yourself when they start purring loudly, “no collar either.”

Looking back outside the window the dark clouds stretched without a break in sight. You didn’t have the heart to put the cat out on the fire escape to find its way home in the rain.

“Well, looks like you're staying here tonight you little stowaway.”

The cat meows in response, stretching and curling up on your lap essentially keeping you to the sofa for the night. This cat had been in your life for less than five minutes and you were already whipped.

You sat for as long as you could before the urge to pee took over. You scoop the cat up off your lap as gently as possible before laying them back down on the seat.

After heading to the bathroom and having a quick shower you decide to call it day. You stop in the doorway to your bedroom when you notice a ball of white curled up on your bed.

“Make yourself at home why don’t you,” you giggle, sliding into bed next to them, “don’t get used to it buddy, we’ll find your home tomorrow.”

Three days. It had been three days since your little intruder invaded your home and you still hadn’t found her owner. You’d been to all the apartments in your building and no one had a clue. Whoever lived in the apartment above you hadn’t been there the three times you’d checked so you assumed they couldn't be the owner.

“Right you little fur ball, I think I’ve found the solution!” you exclaim as you enter your apartment, finding the dozing cat in their new favourite spot on your couch.

You’d spent a bit of time last night putting together a found poster that you were going to stick in and around the building in the hopes that someone would claim her. After getting them printed at work you were determined to get them all out now the rain had stopped and the sun was shining again.

It may have only been three days but you found yourself becoming more and more attached to her each day. She would follow you around the apartment, constantly being near you. When it had stopped raining you had opened the window out to the fire escape to see if she’d leave on her own but she stayed firmly planted on your couch all afternoon, and you just didn’t have the heart to shut her out without knowing she’d get home safely.

After changing out of your work clothes you grab the stack of posters and head out, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head when leaving.

God, you’re really going to be upset when you have to give her back.

You're not paying attention when you leave your building, running straight into what felt like a brick wall. You drop your posters everywhere as you stumble back, tripping over your feet as you feel yourself falling. Before you could hit the floor two strong hands, one hot and one cold, reach out to grip your arms, pulling you forward.

Looking up your eyes met a pair of soft blue eyes, crinkled adorably in the corners as he flashes you a gorgeous smile.

Holy shit.

You can see his lips moving but don't register a word that's coming out of his pretty mouth. You’d never seen someone this beautiful. His dark hair was pushed back from his face by a pair of sunglasses, the ends kissing his shoulders. His jaw was covered by dark stubble and he had the cutest dimple in his chin.

“Hey, did you hit your head before I caught you or something?” he smirks, causing heat to hit your cheeks as you stutter out a response.

“I, I um, sorry, you just took me by surprise a little bit. Oh shit!” you blurt out, remembering the posters you were holding that were now scattered all over the floor along with what you were assuming were a bunch of posters from the handsome stranger.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been paying more attention,” you scramble to pick up the posters, trying to figure out which were yours when you realise both posters had a picture of the cat that had moved in with you.

“Is this your cat?” you ask, holding up the poster saying ‘lost’.

His smile drops slightly, “yeah, she’s been missing for a few days now. It’s not like her to not come home and with the storm and everything I’m worried about her.”

The sight of this beefy guy looking so lost and heartbroken about his missing cat has your heart melting.

“Well, I think I might know where she is.” Lifting up your ‘found’ poster you can't help but giggle at the huge smile that breaks out onto his face.

“She’s in my apartment, I tried leaving the windows open to see if she’d leave but she seems quite fond of my couch,” you chuckle, “I’ll take you up and you can get her.”

He helps you scoop up the rest of the posters before following you back into the apartment building. Once in the elevator he turns to you, “I’m Bucky, by the way,” he introduces, holding out a shiny, black and gold hand.

You're stunned for a moment, taking in the intricate details on the metal limb, “oh wow,” you whisper out loud before you realise, your wide eyes quickly looking at his face, “sorry, that was really rude of me!" you rush out before giving him your name and taking his outstretched hand in yours.

Bucky just chuckles at your flustered state, “don’t worry about it, doll. I’ve had worse reactions.”

He still has hold of your hand and the sweet smile he gives you makes your cheeks heat up more than they already have. His smile only growing and you felt like he was enjoying this.

Luckily the elevator reaches your floor and the doors ding open. You quickly pull your hand back, giving an awkward chuckle as you rush out the elevator towards your apartment.

“So,” you cough, trying to compose yourself as you unlock your door, “do you live in the building or nearby?”

You let the two of you into your apartment, inwardly cringing at the mess, not anticipating to have the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen being invited in.

“Well by the look of the view you’ve got, I’d say my apartment is right above yours actually,” he replies, following you into your living room.

“Ah, well that explains how she ended up in my apartment, she must have come straight down the fire escape,” you chuckle, eyeing the sleeping cat on your couch, feeling your heart swell as Bucky’s eyes brighten.

“There’s my little hellraiser,” he coos, kneeling down to the cat's level.

You can't help the smile that pulls at your lips as Bucky scoopd the cat into his big arms before walking back over to where you're standing.

“Maybe you should get her a collar, you can put your contact details on it so the next person she gate crashes can call you,” you suggest, giving Alpine some scratches under her chin, missing the way Bucky gazes at you affectionately.

“You asking for my number, doll?”

The question catches you off guard, your wide eyes shooting up to his making you realize how close you were standing to each other.

“I...um...I…” you stutter, willing your brain to make a coherent sentence as you take a step back.

His eyes wrinkle adorably around the edges as he laughs softly. “Don’t worry doll, I’ll make sure to get her a collar.”

“Right,” you laugh awkwardly, “um, let me just put the food and stuff I bought into a bag for you, no point me having it now.”

Turning swiftly to head into the kitchen you take a deep sigh once you're out of Bucky’s sight.

“Pull it together woman,” you scold yourself. You can't remember the last time a man had gotten you so flustered and he hadn’t even done anything! You bag the items you’d bought quickly and head back into the living room trying your best not to falter when Bucky flashes you the prettiest smile.

“I honestly can’t thank you enough for taking Alpine in,” he smiles, taking the bag from your hand, his fingers brushing yours gently.

“Really, it was no problem at all,” you can't help but give Alpine a couple more pets, “gonna miss having her around if I’m honest.”

You both start to head towards your door where you open it for him.

“Well my door is always open, doll. I’m sure she’d be happy to see you,” he says, heading into the hall before turning back to you, “I know I would be.”

And then he's gone. Leaving you standing with your door open, mouth agape like a fool.

You couldn’t get Bucky Barnes off your mind. The way his blue eyes held a softness that you didn’t know was possible in a man so large. The way his metal hand felt in yours. The way his smile was so bright.

You hoped to run into him again, even lingering a bit longer in the lobby than usual, but you’d not seen him since.

Settling down on your couch you pull out your phone with the intention of ordering some food. It had been a long day at work but it was finally Friday and you couldn’t wait to do nothing all weekend.

A soft meow has your head whipping around towards the window and a smile pulling at your lips. Sitting by your open window was the little white fur ball that had stolen your heart.

“What are you doing here, sweetie?” you coo, moving towards the seat in front of the window, chuckling when Alpine jumps onto your lap.

You scratch the top of her head, admiring the black and gold collar around her neck, “well look at your brand new collar. You and Bucky are matching now aren’t you. What’s this though?” Pulling the folded up piece of paper from the collar as Alpine settles on your lap. The paper has your name written on it and you can't help but smile when you open it.

Thanks again for taking care of Alpine, if you can’t tell I think she’s missed you. If you’re not busy I’d love to thank you properly. How does pizza sound? You know where to find me, come on up when you’re ready x

Part 2

Thank you so much for reading 🥺💖 I hope you enjoyed this! As always, comments and reblogs are super appreciated and I'll love you forever 💕

[coffeecatsandcandles]

𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞

➵ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Bucky rescues a stray cat and brings her home.

➵ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | dad!bucky x f!reader (ft. Rebecca Barnes)

➵ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.6k

➵ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Fluff!

დ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | დ 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | დ 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

You came home after a long day, ready to sit on the couch and forget all your responsibilities for a little while. Your husband, Bucky, was in the city for a mission, and told you he’d stop by Izzy to see Yori. You loved his dedication to his friends and his job, but that meant that sometimes you’d be alone when you needed his love. Regardless, you knew he’d be home when you got there, and that was enough for you.

The day had just been one disaster after another. You woke up late (in an empty bed), making your daughter, Rebecca, late for school. You had forgotten to pack her lunch, and you managed to hurriedly put together a decent meal for her while she got ready. It was pouring outside, and you had to drive through the rain and to the school. You had just barely made it on time for work, but you didn’t look as put together as you normally did. All of this with the overlying worry about if Bucky was okay. He never told you what he was doing on his missions, or much about work at all. You just hoped he was safe and unharmed.

Now, finally, you were picking Rebecca up from school, having your mind set on your husband’s arms wrapped around you as he gave you a well-needed hug. You knew Rebecca would be excited to see him too. They were practically attached at the hip, and it hurt to see her pout when he was gone for multiple days.

“Daddy!” Rebecca said as the two of you entered your home, knowingly searching for him.

You laughed lightly. You also wanted to frantically search for him like your six-year-old, but you let Becca see him first. It was just one of the many little sacrifices you made as her mother.

You heard Rebecca gasp upon seeing her father. “Mama look!” she exclaimed before you heard a soft meow.

You turned the corner to see your daughter with an excited look on her face as your husband cradled a small white cat in his arms.

“Hi honey… Found this little lady in an alley outside Izzy today.”

The poor cat must’ve been freezing or scared to death, alone in an alley in Brooklyn in the pouring rain. You were upset Bucky didn’t call or text you beforehand, and that he just sprung yet another thing on you. You just wanted to relax, now you had to worry about this cat. For Becca’s sake, you plastered on an overly concerned look, though you were genuinely concerned for the animal. “Oh my goodness,” you said, allowing Becca to get a closer look by lifting her up. The cat was clinging onto Bucky, as if the floor was too dangerous for her to walk on. It really did break your heart, but this family was nowhere near ready for a pet.

“Can we keep her Mama? Please, please, please?” Rebecca asked you.

You shot Bucky a look. A look that said, “We’re talking about this later.” A look of agitation.

“Becca, I’ll have to talk with your daddy about this. How about you start on your homework, okay? I’ll be up there with you in ten minutes.” You put your daughter down and she made her way up the stairs, sneaking one last glance at the cat before going to her bedroom.

“You’re upset.” Bucky said. He could always read you immediately. It was one of the things you loved about him, and also one of the things that drove you crazy. He knew every angle of your face, every inch of your body. When you were angry, he knew. When you were sad, he knew. When you were turned on, oh, he knew.

“Seriously? A cat? Why’d you bring a cat home? You know Becca’s going to get attached immediately and she’s going to beg for us to keep her when we can’t-“

“Who says we can’t?”

“You’re always away on missions. I’m at work all the time. Becca’s six, she isn’t ready for the responsibility of having a pet.”

“Then we’ll teach her. Baby, that cat was out on the streets in the freezing, cold rain. I had to do something. Can we just have her for tonight? I’ll go to the store and get everything we need for one night.”

You looked at your husband. He and Becca had the exact same begging, desperate eyes. Something told you that Bucky was as attached to this cat as Rebecca was. “Fine,” you said, “But I’m having nothing to do with taking care of her. That’s all you and Becca.”

Bucky excitedly grabbed his keys and umbrella as he made his way out the door, but not before gently setting the cat down on the tile. You walked upstairs to help your daughter with homework, and the cat followed. It was going to be a long night, you could tell already.

An hour later, Bucky came home with all the necessary things you need for a cat: a litter box, litter, pet bowls, wet and dry food. After seeing his haul, you looked at him suspiciously but said nothing. Becca cradled the cat in her arms now, pretending she was a baby. The cat didn’t seem to mind it. It seemed like she liked the company.

You watched as Bucky proudly taught Becca how to feed a cat, praising her for being so gentle with her. You didn’t know Bucky was such an animal lover, especially with cats. You pictured him to be a dog person, or just to be a person who never had any desire to own a pet. It was actually kind of adorable, watching him show Becca how to gently pet her, watching Becca giggle when the cat purred or licked her hand. “It’s scratchy!” she said with a giggle.

Maybe giving this to Bucky- no, to Rebecca- no, to both of them, wasn’t so bad.

No, you had to stand your ground.

After nonstop begging from your six-year-old, you and Bucky finally agreed that the cat could sleep in her room. With both her door and your door wide open, of course.

“So? What’s the plan for tomorrow? Are you taking her to a shelter?” You asked as you and Bucky got ready for bed, being alone together for the first time in hours.

“Come on,” Bucky said, obviously a little upset you asked. He tried to play it off, but he was also standing his ground by fighting to keep the cat, “After all that? We gotta keep her. She loves us.”

“No, you ‘come on’. It was cute seeing you two with her, it really was. But I already told you we can’t have a pet.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” Bucky said, wrapping his arms around your waist and sensing your frustration. “I just thought Alpine would make a nice addition to our family, but if you disagree-“

“Alpine? You named her?” you asked.

“Well, actually Becca did, but-“

“Buck!”

“Okay. I’ll tell Becca we can’t keep her. I’ll be the one to break her little heart.” Bucky said. Now you knew he was testing you. Using Becca against you. He was playful, but it was cold. He attempted to relieve the tension between you by leaning in for a kiss, to which you playfully rejected him. He gave a dramatic sigh as you walked into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

You drifted in and out of sleep, worried about Rebecca being alone with Alpine. You knew she was a sweet cat, but your dramatic, maternal side was telling you that the cat would scratch your daughter in her sleep and she’d come in crying and bleeding. But it was 3AM and nothing had happened. Every person and animal in the house was asleep. Well, except for you.

Or so you thought.

You felt the bed sink just a little, as if someone had jumped into bed with you. You lifted your head only to find Alpine approaching you, making herself comfortable on your duvet. You uncomfortably shifted, not knowing what to do. You hadn’t pet her yet. She wasn’t hostile towards you, but you were painfully aware that you were the only one who hadn’t given her any love yet. You awkwardly brought your hand down to pet her head, to which she leaned in and nuzzled her face into your hand, as if she was begging to be petted, and began to purr.

Your heart melted at the sight. Maybe you were being dramatic. Maybe your family was ready for a new member.

“Buck,” you whispered, waking your husband out of his sleep.

“Yeah, hon?” he said, his voice groggy and his eyes still closed.

“We can keep Alpine.” You said. That made him open his eyes and glance down at your hand, still petting her. Her fur was soft, thanks to Bucky bathing her after rescuing her from the rain.

He smiled at the sight. “You sure?” he said, giving you one last chance to change your mind.

You smiled back and kissed him. You were already imagining the life you would all spend together. You, Bucky, Rebecca, and Alpine. And any other member- baby or animal- who wanted to join later. It was like your family was finally complete. And you weren’t lost on what she meant to Bucky, too. You and Rebecca were his world, there was no doubt about that. The absolute loves of his life. But after Steve, and with Sam in Louisiana or D.C., he had no companion. And it seemed like he felt the same way, like your family finally felt like it had found the missing piece you didn’t know was lost.

“Yeah, Buck. I’m sure.”

[haravath0t]

Maybe It’s Time

Pairing: a bit of Steve x Reader, but leaning towards Bucky x Reader in the end

Warning: angst, fluff in the end! Feelings...

A/N: So... another comfort fic... gotta thank @world-of-aus for helping me on this one! Bucket, thank you for literally being a real one and helping me through it all! I owe you so much girl! It’s been a hard one for me as of late folks, so this one kinda feels like a comfort fic to me personally. Kinda out of the blue, but as always, writing seems to be my escape. So for all who are going through something, I hope you know I am here for you and I am willing to lend an ear for you guys! I hope you all seek a bit of comfort through this one shot! Enjoy! 

Bucky’s eyes gently opened, hearing something coming from the other room. Something that has to have become a regular thing for him now for a long while. Your piano playing. 

He recognized this piece more than ever: Debussy’s Clair de Lune.

He sat up gently on the edge of the bed, grunting softly while Alpine softly purred as she stirred herself awake. It was raining; a soft pitter patter of the rain falling against the glass windows accompanied with your soft playing would have been enough to have kept him asleep, his nightmares slowly fading away and going into the wonderful dreams that he had once dreamt of. However, tonight’s playing was different, for the once playful, joyous, and thoughtful tunes coming from those black and white keys have been melancholic for quite a while. Too long of a while. Tonight, something within Bucky Barnes compelled him to do something different from these previous nights. Rather than admire your playing from afar, letting your emotions run wild by yourself, he’ll make his presence known. 

Alpine meowed, watching her owner slowly put on his fuzzy slippers (courtesy of you) before she fell asleep. Bucky smiled sleepily, giving her one more pet before quietly making his way out of his room, and into the dark living room in your guys’ shared floor. The sight in front of him definitely reflected Clair de Lune: beautiful, yet filled with emotion, filled with sorrow. It hurt him even more to know just why you were hurting.

You were restless. You were critical. You tried, you fought, you pushed, you pulled. 

Yet it was never enough.

At the end of the day, you got hurt. You were thrown away, rendered useless to someone who you loved deeply and passionately. Someone who you devoted yourself to, thinking they’d dedicate themselves in the same manner. You remember that day clearly, feelings still fresh from a year ago.

You were still wrapping your head around the fact that you were part of the half who disappeared in the blip. However, thoughts were brushed aside as he smiled softly at you as Bruce got everything ready, coming towards you as you returned the smile on your face. You wrapped your arms around him, your soft eyes looking at him with love and devotion, as it always had. “Be careful,” you whisper into his lips with a smile. “I will, Y/N… don’t you worry.” He says with a smile nuzzling his nose against yours. “I just wanna ensure your safety, for your sake,” You reply with a giggle. “My sake or yours?” He questions with a much bigger smile. “How about we settle with both?” You whisper, your giggles ringing in Steve’s ears. He couldn’t help the long and loving kiss that was shared between the both of you before he went off to the platform. 

You watched your boyfriend, standing in his suit, Mjolnir in one hand and the case of the Infinity Stones in the other, standing in the middle of the platform with a determined look on his face. You smiled even more, for Steve Rogers, being himself, has managed to save the world once again with the Avengers. You smiled alongside Bucky and Sam who were watching him disappear out of sight. “And returning in 5… 4… 3… 2...1…” Bruce counts down, only for you three to see no one back on the platform. You began to worry. Did something go wrong? What happened? Is he okay? 

Your mind was laden with panic and it wasn’t until you saw a figure sitting alongside the lake, shield propped up next to him. Confusion laced your worried features, but the two men knew. Sam talked to him as you looked on in shock, mind still connecting things together. You shook your head in denial as you saw a wedding ring on his finger. At that moment you knew.

You weren’t enough.

You slowly made your way, deciding to be strong, heart wrenching when you saw this once burly, blond man now with wrinkles, haggard, and with a wedding ring. 

“Y/N,” he says, but you cut him off, forcing a smile on your face, forcing your tears to not fall down. 

“N-no. It’s okay… I.. I get it… I’m.. I’m happy for you, Steve.”

You hated it. You hated having to have your hand held by him one last time, a squeeze of hands quietly speaking of the terms that you both are now on. You were never his. Never. Peggy remained his one and true love that beat time and space. And who were you to argue? She rightfully gained her place. Maybe it was time for you to accept the fact that there was no room for you in Steven Grant Rogers’ life. 

But that didn’t stop the hurt that still clouds your mind and thoughts. The remembrance of the hurt and the deception on your side of the story was still fresh. The repeat of the memory merely adds salt to your still fresh wounds. It’s been inside you since then, the neverending ache courses through you. So you play. You play the grand piano and its keys with your heart out on your sleeve not caring for the sobs that leave your lips, hands gracefully touching the keys of the piano, a slow crescendo coming in as the feelings of hurt slowly grow. Your eyes stay shut as your left hand starts to move more and more, right hand playing chords and the sorrowful melody. By the time the climax of the song arrives, you are sobbing even more than before, body shaking as the pain takes on a more tangible form on your piano. Your head is swirling, your body feeling like it was going to float, you were so clouded in your mind, until a particular man with a metal arm sat quietly next to you, putting you back in your space, where you currently were.  

However, you stopped dead in your tracks, embarrassed that your best friend had caught you in this particular moment, so your eyes try their hardest to remain on the keys. You already knew that his ocean blue ones were staring at you. His metal hand carefully rests upon your right hand, lightly interlocking his fingers with yours. 

“I’m not over it either,” he whispers in your ear.

Again, you cry, turning your body slightly to cling to his figure. Cries slowly turn into sobs. Hugging Bucky for dear life, you said the things that have been in your head for so long. 

“B-Buck.. Why did he leave?! Why?! And when we just came back?! Why Peggy, Buck?! What does she have that I don’t?! What has our time together meant to him?! Is it because I’m not as skinny as her?! Is she smarter than me? Is she funnier? More humorous? Is she kinder? Is she-”

Bucky felt the same way. He knew how you felt. He felt that way about the punk too. He wasn’t thinking of Captain America, but Steve. The little kid from Brooklyn, the same guy who had asthma, who put newspapers in his shoes, who hid an extra key under a brick. He felt like he lost his place too. However, he knew how you felt was just as bad. He understood you. It pained him to see you crying. Admittedly enough, he only hoped that you look beautiful in his eyes despite your sobs and tears. A literal angel, he’d think to himself. Unfortunate that he can’t teach his best friend a thing or two about taking care of his girl. You were in pain for so long.

His hands cupped your wet cheeks and slowly wiped the tears with his thumbs, a tiny smile when he feels you relax to his touch, kissing your forehead to further soothe you. “Steve doesn’t know what was in front of the whole time, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

“He did… apparently I’m only a substitute till there was a way. That’s all I am to anyone. A substitute.”

“I never thought of you that way.” He admits quietly, so quietly, that only you both can hear, causing you to look up at him in surprise. “H-Huh? But…” “I said what I said, Y/N… I mean it. You were, are, and always will be such a sweet, kind, and beautiful dame. There’s no kind like you anywhere here, not even Peggy or anyone for that matter can replicate what you have sweetheart. So who cares who’s skinnier? Who cares if one is more funny? In the end of the day, we knew you did all you could. It hurts. I know. But, you’re gonna have that one guy who is gonna treat ya like no man ever could. I’ll make sure of that.” He whispers, looking at you dead in the eyes with understanding and love in his eyes. A small smile finally kisses your face. Not a fake one, but a small genuine one. One that only someone like James Buchanan Barnes would notice. “That’s my girl.” He whispers and smiles, hugging you once again.

He pulls away, starting to play the first few notes of Clair de Lune, eyes carefully watching yours, an invitation. You shyly joined in, allowing yourself to take your place and playing a part. You and James couldn’t help the smile that goes on your faces as it starts to progress. You watched as both his flesh and metal hand graced the keys effortlessly, nicely paired along with yours as they also graced the keys, completing this song’s melody. What was wreaking of pain and sorrow turned pensive, calming, even providing a form of resolution. You guys smiled as you both played your notes louder and louder the two of you effortlessly mirroring each other, no need to say the dynamic, the mood, the notes to play, it was all unplanned, yet it still sounded beautiful. A giggle leaves your mouth, another genuine one for the first time, which causes Bucky to smile big, happy to see you smiling again. He watches as your guys’ fingers glide through the keys, hands sometimes weaving in and out harmoniously, never causing extra struggle. 

“Thank you, James… I really really feel better after all of that” you say softly, letting yourself nuzzle your face into his torso, hugging the super soldier tightly. “You always know what to say to me. You always know what to do. Always have. Thank you,” You whisper, smiling softly as the man tightens his hold on you. You both chuckled when a yawn now leaves your lips, resulting in Bucky scooping you up bridal style. “Not a problem, sweetheart. I’m always gonna be here. M’not going anywhere I promise.” He says softly, yet in a determined tone. He vowed to himself no matter where he stood in your life, he was gonna make sure you were loved and cared for. He always wanted that for you. Always looked at you in a way he never thought he’d look at a woman. Even today the way he perceived you was the same: a kind, beautiful, giving, and optimistic person who was kind to anyone but herself. “Why don’t we get you to bed, huh? I think you deserve this to say the least.” He says softly, making his way through the hallway into your bedroom. 

“A-Actually. Do you think I can just lay with you tonight?” You ask shyly. You felt comfortable in his arms. He made you feel warm, protected. You didn’t want to let that go. Not now. Of course, Bucky could not say no, so he carried you to his room, where you both met a sleeping Alpine perched on her cute tower. You smiled as he laid you down gently before he laid next to you, an arm wrapped around your waist. “Thank you, Buck…you know I’m grateful for you,” you murmured sleepily, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and relaxing. Bucky only smiled and rubbed your back for comfort. “Never forget I’ll do anythin’ for you sweetheart. Promise.” He whispers, sleep taking over him a bit quicker than a normal night. You smiled as you watched his breathing steady out, knowing he was asleep. You couldn’t help the grin from ear to ear before you slept yourself. It will take a while for this pain of yours to end, but… maybe, just maybe it’s time for you to stop looking at what’s behind and what’s beyond. Maybe it’s time for you to rediscover your worth, who you can love and who can love you.  Maybe it’s time that you trust yourself, for you are worth it all and you alone is a good enough reason to live your life as it should. And maybe, just maybe… you’ll see where the brunette man with a metal arm in front of you will stand in your life. Just one step at a time and one day at a time, you tell yourself as you slowly drift into dreamland. However, you were happy, for this was the first night you felt like you were enough, and felt that hope that used to reside in your heart. For once in a long time, you didn’t feel the weight in your heart anymore, for behind you, Bucky Barnes was right behind you carrying it right with you.

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[ppaperheartss]

Godzilla

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: a lil angst, some swearing

A/N: Hey! I really hope you enjoy this, I’ve worked really hard on it. Inspired by Godzilla by Kesha. Any comments or feedback are appreciated!

-

Bucky Barnes wanted to find peace. His whole life had revolved around fighting and angst and fear, and now he decided it was time for that part of his life to be over. It took him a long time to readjust to a life without meaning, without something to fight for. He spent his days wandering around the compound looking for someone he could spend time with, but most of the time the compound was a ghost town. So he kept himself occupied with therapist appointments, catching up on pop culture and exploring different music genres.

(Rumour has it that Bucky was seen working out to Taylor Swift’s new album, but he always denies it regardless.)

He was proud of everyone else on the team. Sam took on the role of Captain America with both hands and was eager to help the country with the pressing issues which the Avengers never got the chance to handle. Captain America is now the frontface for Black Lives Matter and is tackling gun violence one day at a time. He is making America great again. 

Wanda has taken on the role of training new agents and works very close with orphanages in New York to rehabilitate young people who have led traumatic lives. She even introduced the Pietro Maximoff Foundation which aims to find people that had been injured in all Avenger fights as collateral damage and get them the help they so rightly deserve.

Scott spends a lot of time with Cassie to make up for all of the years that they missed together, and he even has another little one on the way with Hope. Though Bucky isn’t very fond of children yet he’s open to the idea of a miniature sized version of Scott running around the compound and causing havoc. Even the thought of it brings a smile to his face. 

Parker recently graduated high school and now works with Bruce a lot of the time in their own lab in the centre of the city to continue on with the work that Tony had started. After the whole fiasco with his identity being outed he tends to keep a low profile, taking his time to get used to the spotlight that is everyday life as an Avenger.

Bucky is still coping with that too, honestly. It’s strange walking down a street knowing that everyone probably knows his name and his history, and has an opinion of him, when he has never seen them before in his life. Maybe he has. He struggles with his memory too.

When he was diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety, it was a strange experience. He had a little knowledge on it from his uncle who had fought in war before him and suffered from the illnesses, but it was different knowing about it and being diagnosed with it he realised quickly. He’s cautious around strangers and struggles to speak to someone who he doesn’t know if he can trust yet, but his therapist Dr. Walker says he’ll develop with time. He just needs to focus on his breathing and find something to distract hunsekd. 

And he did. He went from not being able to open up the door for his takeout - which the app to order said takeout took him just a bit too long to understand - to being able to speak at veterans meetings with Sam in front of a couple dozen people. He connected well with the other veterans, especially those who had lost a limb in war, and found himself looking forward to the meetings for the chance to speak to people who shared similar life experiences and didn’t give him a sad look whenever he opened up about his nightmares. Knowing he wasn’t alone gave him a sense of belonging, something that he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He retired from the Avengers and moved to a small apartment in Brooklyn that Sam helped him look for. He even went couch shopping with him, making sure that he bought the deepest and comfiest one there. He didn’t mind, he loved how comfortable modern things are compared to the 30s, but he wondered why he insisted on getting that particular one. That was, until one night Sam came to his apartment blackout drunk and slept there for 15 hours straight. He only woke once to complain drunkenly about how small the blankets were, to which received a pillow to the head.

Bucky enjoys having his own place to live. He wakes up early in the morning to go on a leisurely run through his neighbourhood and watch the sky turn from red to pink to blue. He stops at the cafe at the bottom of his street for whatever pastry is fresh and a sweet coffee.

He then comes home to his cat and plants, and spends his days loving and caring for them. He found Alpine on what could have been one of the worst nights he’s experienced in his normal life. It had been raining heavily for hours and Bucky was walking home from therapy when he was jumped by a group of men. In the panic of it all he lashed out, and having not been in the field for so long he underestimated his strength.

A civilian got hurt in the scrapple, but she was so scared of who he was that she refused to take help from him. The police then arrived and Bucky had to fight his case for an hour in the pouring rain with only a running tee on. It was a witness from an apartment block on the other side of the street who came to Bucky’s aid and explained how he hadn’t started the fight and didn’t hurt the woman on purpose. He walked home in a storm of a mood, his whole body shaking with anxiety and the cold seeping into his bones, when he heard a faint meow come from a dark alley. 

He quickly swooped into action without hesitation, fishing the small creature out of the soggy box it was in and shielding it under his arm as he started to jog home.

That’s how he found himself an hour later sitting face to face with a small white cat with eyes he thought resembled his own in a strange way. He knew he was going to keep the cat without hesitation, he just wondered how something so pure could have made its way into his fuck-up of a day.

He even got a job in a coffee shop for a short while when Dr. Walker felt he was ready for it, so he could work on his social skills and how to control situations positively. He lasted a whole month in the shop and he made fairly good relationships with his colleagues and frequent customers, but he was asked to leave one afternoon as they had had a complaint from a daily customer about him. Apparently Bucky has a resting face that looks intimidating, and made the customer feel anxious. He had a tough time in his head that night. It took him a few days of wallowing in self pity and several conversations with Sam and Dr. Walker to realise he didn’t do anything wrong. He had to accept the fact he couldn’t convince everyone he was a good guy, and this is something he is still learning to accept.

He had felt so much misery over his lifetime that he thought he would never get the chance to be happy again, perhaps this new life would be enough for him. Though, he had to admit, that the fact that the only constant human interaction he had on a daily basis would be with store workers when he went grocery shopping, it was starting to make him feel lonely. It was like he lived on the moon, only watching others live their lives from a distance as he lived his own mundane life. That, of course, was before he met you.

You came shining into his life like a beam of sunlight that made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. There wasn’t a moment where your beautiful smile didn’t grace your face, and the joy on you radiated instantly made his day a whole lot better. You had been neighbours for quite a while before your first interaction, though you would always give him a chipper smile when he passed you in the hallways to which he responded to with a bashful grin.

Bucky woke up with a feeling something was wrong one day, and his suspicions were confirmed when he got a call from the nursing home informing him that Steve was sick. He knew he had to visit right away, just in case, but he didn’t know how long he would be gone and refused to leave Alpine alone. He couldn’t ask Sam, he was too busy being Captain America and a dumbass to properly care for a cat, so he moved onto what seemed to be his only other option.

The super soldier stood in your door frame (which was just too small for him to stand at his full height comfortably in) with a cat carrier in hand, blue bag slung over his shoulder and a desperate smile on his face. “Hi, I’m Bucky. Barnes. Bucky Barnes. Your neighbour. Room 6? Anyway, I need to ask a huge favour of you. I have to visit a friend out of town but I can’t leave Alpine alone - she doesn’t like it at night, and I was really, really, hoping you could watch her for a few days. I understand if you’re busy or have plans, though!”

You listened to his ramblings with an amused smile on your face, hand on the doorframe and leaning forward slightly. “Alpine?” you mused, eyebrow raised slightly.

His cheeks tinted instantly as he nodded down to the now meowing carrier. “Yeah, my cat. She’s two. She’s lovely, I promise. Doesn’t scratch or anything, she’s a real doll. You won’t even notice she’s there.”

You had bent down to look inside the carrier as he continued to ramble, only to be met with remarkable blue eyes which matched its owner’s perfectly. Cooing softly at her, you look up to meet the other pair of striking blue eyes. “Of course I’ll watch her for you. What else are neighbours for?”

He smiles instantly, shoulders relaxing as he lets out a breath. Holding out the carrier to you with his metal arm which you took instantly, he starts, “Thank you so much…”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N.” he repeats, setting the bag at your feet. “My number’s in there if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’m better at calling than texting. Thank you, again, I owe you.” He smiles before waving quickly as you exchange goodbyes, turning on his heel and walking quickly to his car with keys in hand. 

After closing your door you set the carrier down and open it up, lifting out the small white cat into your arms. Smiling fondly, you press a kiss between her ears. You wandered over to your window to see Bucky climbing into his car as he held a phone between his ear and shoulder, and something deep inside of you knew this was the start of something special.

After that first encounter, you and Bucky seemed to be glued to the hip. It started off as a coffee date as a thank you after he got home from the weekend in which you watched Alpine, and you were glad to hear that Steve was well. It then evolved into a home cooked dinner from you the next day because Bucky refused to let you pay for your coffee even though you insisted and you wanted to pay him back somehow. He was always a gentleman with you. 

It then turned into weekly Friday night movie nights to catch him up on what he had missed movie-wise and supermarket shopping together the next morning because Bucky loved shopping in near-empty supermarkets just as much as you. Somewhere along the line you both got keys cut for the other’s apartment and you more often than not spent everyday together, even if it was just spending your hour lunch break from work sitting on a park bench chatting. You both had formed the best friendship possible, so it was no surprise to anyone that you wound up dating. It was meant to be, really. Soulmates. 

But not when Bucky went to the gym, because there was no way you would be caught dead doing physical activities.

You loved being around Bucky; he was sweet and caring and loved to try whatever new hobby you were experimenting with. He would always taste-test your cooking and baking and never say anything mean about it - even that time you made cupcakes and used salt instead of sugar he was quick to force it down and sing its praises. He cries at dog movies and volunteered at the local animal shelter weekly after you informed him one night that he could because he was just desperate for some interaction with the dogs. You were surprised he hadn’t come home with every single dog his first day there because he just wanted them to be loved so much. 

Bucky Barnes was a Saint sculpted by gods who had a heart of gold, and you could never see him any other way. Sure, you knew his history. Hell, you had even written a paper all about him and the Howling Commandos in your college History class, but none of that mattered to you. The Winter Soldier had been gone for over a decade, the trigger words meaningless and the mystery over, and you just wanted to know Bucky. Not his past - not that he could remember much of it anyway - but his and your relationship’s future together and what possibilities come along with that.

-

Bucky loved going shopping with you. He would give you an armful of clothes and make you give him a fashion show, where he would cheer for you and clap obnoxiously and shower you with the sweetest compliments, and you both savoured every second of it. You also had a fairly decent understanding of fashion, so you would help him keep up with all of the trends and keep him looking as gorgeous as he always is. So a Saturday spent together roaming the mall should be the perfect outing for the both of you. If only you could do it alone.

You held his hand tightly in yours, fingers intertwined and palms sweating slightly, but you were sure it was only his that was. You kept him near to know he was safe and coping, because crowds were one hundred percent not his thing. Maybe that’s why recently he had taken a liking to online shopping, because you could still have your famous fashion show in the comfort of his safe, judgemental free apartment. You could feel every set of eyes follow you and the six foot ex-assassin beside you for longer than necessary as they walked past you both, but you kept your head held high. No one was ever going to make you feel bad for loving Bucky. Not now, not ever.

“Oh my God.”

“That poor girl.”

“Stay back, he’s dangerous.”

“Do we just let murderers walk free now?”

You don’t know if the people walking by tried to be discreet with their whispering or wanted you both to hear, but you could hear them so Bucky definitely heard them. Looking up at him as you feel his breathing hitch, you follow his eye line and find a small girl being whisked away by her mother with fear evident on her face. The air around you grew thick, like you could feel his suffocating anxiety grow. He didn’t want to scare anyone, and this sight seemingly pushed him over the edge into a downward spiral.

Tugging on his arm you grab his attention, flashing him a reassuring smile.

“Why don’t we get food? I’m starving.” He simply nods in response, not trusting his voice.

You sit across from him in the booth in the corner of the food court, eating happily as you watch him visibly relax into his surroundings. He has a mountain of food in front of him but you know it’s never enough, and you just grin as he reaches over to swipe some of your fries.

You both talk mindlessly about insignificant things; a jacket that caught his eye, where you’d like to go next, how you both are craving ice cream, oblivious to the numerous pairs of eyes staring at you two. The flash of a camera and a series of giggles catches your attention. You quickly look to Bucky to see his reaction, but just smile at him distracted by his milkshake which has now covered his face. You lean over the table to wipe it away with a napkin before kissing his nose gently, and he smiles happily at you as his cheeks tint red.

“Why don’t we just leave after this?” He looks up at you, and it pains you to see the hope in his eyes at the thought of leaving. “We can go to that ice cream parlour at the bottom of the avenue and have a walk in the park instead.”

You smile at him. “That sounds so much better than shopping, baby. Let me go throw all of this in the trash then we can go.”

“No, I’ve got it. I’ll be two ticks.” He slides out of the booth, pecking your lips quickly as he picks up the trays and walks over to the trash. You still have a smile on your lips as you pull on your jacket and pick up your purse, but it fades quickly when you hear a crash and yells from behind you.

Jumping out of the booth quickly you turn, finding Bucky standing with a now empty tray between a bunch of chairs and a woman draped across the floor covered in the remains of your lunch. Bucky’s shaking as he tries to stammer out an apology. You assume that they’ve bumped into each other, and with Bucky’s strength she fell back hard. 

People had started to crowd around as the woman went into painfully fake hysterics about how he had attacked her, and Bucky just stood there like a deer in headlights. Pushing through the crowd you run to him, grabbing the tray from his hands and setting it on a table. You take his hand in his, holding onto it tightly, and he leans into your touch to try to make his body as small as possible.

A hush settled over the crowd as the woman’s cries turned into whimpers when she realised she had an audience. “That thing just assaulted me! Did you see it? Doing this to a vulnerable woman!”

A few people murmured agreements to her accusations, and it only made your blood boil more. 

“Bucky is a person, not a thing,” All eyes turned on you, and you only stood taller to secure your confidence. “and he wouldn’t harm a fly. I’m sure this was all just some sort of accident.”

She scoffed as she was helped up to stand from a few bystanders. “He’s a criminal. He knows nothing but hurting people. Just look at that,” she gestured to Bucky’s metal arm that he was now trying to hide away behind his body. 

Just as you tried to defend Bucky, the crowd started getting rowdy again and you felt a tug on your hand. Looking back you see a mortified looking Bucky with glistening eyes. His voice is so weak you almost don’t catch what he says.

“Just leave it, Y/N. Please. I want to go home.” You nod quickly, fixing your bag over your shoulder and delivering the woman a scowl as you turn and practically run out of the mall together. You didn’t want to make a scene, because it always affects Bucky worse. 

The car ride is silent, you in the drivers’ seat and Bucky bouncing his knee beside you, eyes shifting around frantically. You sit in the parking lot of your apartment block for a while, Bucky’s head on your shoulder and your hand running through his hair softly as he finally lets himself go. You stay there until his shoulders ache and he can’t find anymore tears to cry. You hold him close as you walk to your apartment, and he sits on the bathroom counter as you run a warm bath. You drop in his favourite bath bomb, and that at least brings a smile to his face.

He finally begins to relax as he sinks into the warm water and you sit on the edge of the tub, treading your fingers through his hair gently. It’s quiet for a while, but both of your minds are loud. 

“I wish they would see you like I do.” Your voice cuts through the air like a knife. He sighs, shaking his head. 

“They never will. Why should they? I’m a monster.” Bucky sounds weak. He’s tired of living like this, scared that he’ll make one wrong move and his face will be plastered all over the news. 

“You’re not a monster, Buck.” You keep your voice steady. “You're the kindest, sweetest person I know. I don’t care about your past at all, and I… I love you.”

You weren’t planning to tell him you loved him for the first time, but it just seemed right in the moment.  He’s quiet for a while, and you begin to wonder if he actually heard you or has fallen asleep from the warm water and lavender. 

Bucky takes a deep breath before he speaks again. 

“I love you, too.”

You can’t control the smile that takes over your face and you lean forward, planting a kiss on his head. You hear him smile and he moves to see you. The water swishes as he moves. A wet hand cups your cheek and you lean into the touch, watching his eyes stare at your feet as he struggles to get his words out. 

“I love you so much it hurts. I wake up in the morning and see you laying beside me, and I know that I’m where I’m supposed to be. I just don’t want to screw it all up.” He finally meets your eyes. They’ve turned a stormy blue, and you can see all of his emotions swirling around them. 

You turn your head to the side and kiss the palm of his hand, your fingers still running through his hair gently. He leans in, the tension escaping his muscles. He sighs as he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours. You smile at him, pecking his nose quickly. 

“You could never mess this up. You’re my soulmate. Now, how about we have that ice cream now?” the two of you share a knowing smile. 

You squeal as Bucky pulls you in for a hug, both of you laughing as he soaks your clothes and peppers your face in kisses. 

-

“This is wrong, this is all wrong. I told you I should’ve worn a tie! Even Steve agreed with me on that one! I look so stupid wearing, why the hell am I wearing a leather jacket to meet your parents? Can we turn back? I’ll change quickly. Let me cut my hair. Is it too long?” Bucky pulls down the passenger mirror to inspect himself, his forehead creasing as he tries to perfect his already styled hair. 

You sigh as you reach over from the steering wheel and take his hand, bringing it over to kiss his knuckles gently. “You look great. It doesn’t matter what you wear. They’ll love you no matter what.”

He grumbles a disagreement as he sinks back in his seat, changing the song playing through the car radio until he finds a depressing song to play to match his mood. You had noticed he did that a lot after only a week of dating. Whenever he’s happy you will almost always hear Michael Jackson or Queen playing from wherever he is in the apartment, and he had downloaded Spotify’s Sad Songs for whenever he felt down. 

You reach over and change the song quickly, which earns a sharp look from him. You scoff, but you both know that it’s not malicious. “Calm down, Buck. You’re just nervous. We’re having a barbecue, not a fancy meal in a fancy restaurant.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t want them to hate me. Would you leave me if they hate me?” He sounds like what a sad puppy would if it were able to speak. Stopping at a red light, you turn your body to face him. 

“I love you, okay? Nobody will ever come between us, not even my parents. Just flash them that charming smile of yours and they’ll have you hooked.” He smiles bashfully at you, and you grin as you kiss him quickly. 

After that the ride is short and sweet to your parents’ home. Honestly, you didn’t know how they were going to react to Bucky. You hadn’t told them who he was specifically, just that he was your handsome boyfriend who you loved very much. They had always been accepting of whatever life choices you made, even when you decided to drop out of college. They just wanted you to be happy. And Bucky made you happy, so that means they should accept him. 

You held onto his hand tightly as you walked up the driveway, and before flashing him one last reassuring smile you knocked the door. The air was tense and time seemed to stretch as you waited for one of your parents to open up the door. Even you were becoming slightly nervous. 

The door handle jiggles before the door flies open, and you smile fondly at your mother standing in the doorway. Bucky smiles too, though it’s a nervous one. 

It had been so long since he had felt any parental love - he thinks about his family everyday - and as selfish as it sounds he was hoping he could use this as an opportunity to finally have a stable father figure in his life. From the stories he had heard from you, he decided you had lived the life he had always dreamed of. Family trips, game nights, going out for special meals together. Even just the little things, like how you called them every night to say goodnight. He craved stability in his life, and this may be one way he can achieve it. 

She looks between you both, the smile on her face fading the longer she looks at Bucky. Just as you open your mouth you see her eyes flit downwards - straight age Bucky’s metallic hand. He adjusts his hand to loosen his grip on yours and swallows dryly. A strangled gasp escaped her lips before she grabbed your empty hand roughly, tugging you inside and scrambling to lock the door behind you. 

“Y/N! What were you thinking, bringing that monster here!” She searched your face as if she was hoping to find bruises under your makeup, and your blood boiled. 

“What the hell?” You shouted at her. Reaching back you feel for the door handle, but she takes your hand in hers before you can. 

“Do you not watch the news? He’s dangerous.” She pulls away, staring at you like you were crazy. “Has he been lying to you?”

“I know exactly who he is mom-”

“Then it’s… it’s Stockholm Syndrome. I’ve read about that! I think I’m using that right.” she says. You scoff at how ridiculous she’s being, fully conscious of Bucky standing behind the door. She only frowns. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. That’s my boyfriend that you just locked outside.”

“Whatever’s you’re feeling isn’t love, honey. I’ve heard everything about him. Did you know he attacked some poor woman in a food court a few days ago?” There's a tinge of pity in her voice, and it only makes you more angry. 

“Oh my god,” you moan. “He is my boyfriend! That’s the James that I told you about! And you just slammed the door on his face and called him a monster.”

Her movements falter as realisation dawns on her face. She actually loves the monster, is what you assume she’s thinking. You turn and swing open the door, only to see Bucky seemingly frozen in place in shock and mortification. He just blinks and stares at you, and you just want to swaddle him up into a blanket and hold him close right on the spot. 

You reach your hand out for him, but he flinches back and stumbles down the steps. 

“Th-This is all wrong. I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have come.” He sounds weak, like a child after being scolded.

He stands there looking lost, like he wants to run away and never come back but is also too scared to turn his back on you. He isn’t leaving you, just the situation. He doesn’t know what to do. Will you hate him for this? Are you angry that he isn’t standing up for himself? But he doesn’t want to shout what he wants to say. He wants to be calm. He’s learned how to be calm. How can he learn to be calm after everything he’s gone through, but no one else can?

Your dad comes to the door and you know things will only get worse. You step down to stand beside Bucky, holding his hand tightly. 

“Y/N, what’s going on here? Who is that man?” Your dad seems just as confused about the situation as you are. 

“Mom just- ugh. I can’t believe this is actually happening.” You didn’t want to cause a scene, just because of the sheer fact that your mom knows about what happened the other day so if one person sees this who knows what it will be escalated to in the media. 

“She ruined today. Today was supposed to be amazing and she messed it all up because she didn’t want to give Bucky a chance.” 

“Sweetie, look at him,” your mom began to defend herself. “Can you blame me? All I know is that he is a killer with an arm made of metal. He could hurt you!” 

“Like you are?” She stared back at you in shock. “You took one look at him and decided he was a monster. He’s a person just like us, and he deserves to be treated like one. I’m sorry, but I can’t stand here and allow you to treat him like that. I love him and he loves me, and that’s all that matters.”

Your dad calls on you as you storm to the car, but you don’t listen. Slamming the door behind you, you push your foot in the ignition and drive away as soon as Bucky gets in the car. 

Bucky doesn’t know what to do. Normally he knows how to help you, but he’s never seen you like this before. You’re shaking, and he doesn’t know if it’s from anger or fear. Fear that you’ve lost your parents? He’s so lost and feels terrible that he can’t help you. 

It takes about fifteen minutes for you to stop seeing red and finally slow down to the speed limit. It was like something else took over your body and you were watching from five feet away. Everything happened so quickly. What actually just happened. Are you in the wrong? Maybe you should’ve told them about him before. You don’t want to have to but you know you should have. Explain it. Him. Bucky. 

Looking over you see him half smiling patiently at you. He’s the one hurting right now, but he’s hiding it so he can be there for you. You don’t mean it, but the look he gives you when your lip trembles causes the floodgates to open. 

He manages to reach over to the wheel and guide the car off the side of the road when the road begins to get blurry from tears. 

“I’m so sorry, Bucky. I didn’t know she was going to do that. Never in a million years did I think she’d do that! She-she’s horrible and nasty and-”

“Y/N, please.” Bucky reaches out and holds your hand, his other reaching up to wipe the tears off of your face. “You don’t mean that.”

“But it’s still not okay.”

“I know it’s not,” he sighs. “I just thought they would be more like you.” He smiles weakly at you. 

“So did I.” You sniff as you lean over, resting your head against his shoulder. His lips instantly reach down to kiss your head gently. 

“Let’s leave it for now, and you can call in a few days. Maybe we can convince them to come around to me. I know you want them to like me.” Bucky’s voice doesn’t sound as hopeful as his words, but he wants this for you. You’ve always had a good relationship with your parents and he doesn’t want to be the reason it’s all messed up. He knows he’s not worth it. Well… yes, I am worth it, he forces himself to think. 

He knows his worth in this relationship. He knows he means so much to you. You mean the world to him. He hopes you know that. But he knows how much your parents mean to you, and he would never want to make you choose. That’s selfish of him. 

You look up at him and smile. “You know I love you, right?” 

He smiles back. “You tell me everyday.” He bends down, capturing your lips in a kiss. 

Bucky still had a long way to go with his recovery, but you made everyday easier. He couldn’t imagine his life without you anymore. You were the reason he got out of bed everyday, the reason he cared for himself, the reason he smiled. 

Who knew Godzilla could fall in love?

[quixotic-writer]

Stormed In

It was a dark and overcast day, rain drizzled from the sky tapping on the windows quietly as cold air coated the land. It was the perfect day to just be lazy and unproductive, which is exactly what you and Q were doing. You both sat in the living room bundled up in your pajamas lounging on the couch with the cats scattered about snoozing the day away. Q sat on the couch rewatching old 80s movies while you sat next to him propped up on the couch using Q as a backrest with your nose in a book.

The day was quiet and calming. It wasn’t often where you both had just a calm day off. It was always activities with friends, conflicting schedules, meetings upon meetings, or just errands to run meaning every day had to be a productive day. It was always something. But today was a day where you both could just do nothing and truly enjoy each others company and relax without a worry or care in the world.

The time was passing and the hours bled into the afternoon and Q shifted around realizing exactly how sweaty and greasy he was feeling after sitting around and doing nothing. He taps you making you pause your reading to look up at Q.

“Hey baby, i’m gonna go shower, feeling a little gross.” You rolls your eyes but smile. Grabbing your bookmark, you gently place it between the pages and lean forward to allow Q the guiltless freedom to get up. He stretches a bit and his shirt rides up, you stare in wonder at the small sliver of bare flesh that was exposed with hunger in your eyes. You didn’t think Q would take notice, but he did. “I feel so gross right now, no way.” He says with a devilish smirk. With that he went off to the hit the showers leaving you to pout on the couch and continue on your literary journey.

He undresses and steps into the steamy hot water of the shower. The moment he stepped into the shower, a low rumble comes from outside and he sees a small flash of light in the small window of the bathroom. It was really storming outside now. It didn’t bother him though, he carried on with what he was doing. What he was oblivious to was how his girlfriend was reacting to the start of the storm.

He steps out of the shower feeling refreshed and puts on some clothes heading back down to the living room with anticipation only to see an empty and quiet room. The book you were reading was left carefully placed on the couch and the cats were nowhere to be found. Thunder rolls in and the sky illuminates with lightening.

“Meow!” Q half jumped out of his skin and turned around to see Benjamin standing there.

“Hey Benji. Where’s Aya?” Benjamin meows again and sits down, eyes filled with judgment. “Thanks for the help.” He flatly says as he walks past the small feline. He begins to roam the house calling out his girlfriends name.

“Babe, you in here?” He calls out as he poked his head into the guest room, the bathroom, the guest bathroom, the closet, everywhere. He then walks into the main bedroom and looks around to see Brooklyn cat sitting outside the closet door almost as though she was on guard. Q doesn’t say anything but he slides open the door and inside was just what he thought he would find: His girlfriend cowering in fear holding Chessie close with her eyes sealed shut. You opens your eyes and they dart to Q towering over you in the frame of the entrance and he sees they’re filled with anxiety. “What are you doing in here?” He asks softly. Another roar of thunder comes storming in and you holds Chessie a little tighter and close your eyes again. That’s when it all pieced together: “Are you... scared of thunder??” He says almost like he couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah and what?” You heighten your internal defenses and bury your face in Chessie’s fur in utter shame. Q quickly realizes his mistake and softens his attitude and sits himself outside the closet door.

“Hey i’m sorry I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?” He gently graces you cheek with the backs of his fingertips tracing your jaw down to your chin and he turns your head so that your eyes meet. Your eyes automatically drift to the side in humiliation heat rising to your face.

“Thought you’d make fun of me. I’m a grown woman scared of thunder.” Another grumble from outside comes and Q quickly but gently grabs you and holds you close in a warm embrace as the noise passes.

“And i’m a grown man with a severe phobia of spiders and yelled pumpernickle repeatedly in a warehouse. We all have our fears, but I want you to know i’m here to help. I’m sorry for jumping the gun and teasing you.” He hugs you tight and gets up. “I’ll grab a few things.”

Blankets, laptop, headphones, and some pillows and he was right back to the closet. He moves a few things around and out of the closet to make it a little comfortable secret spot just for you. You sit yourself in there, cozy now with Brooklyn cat snuggled on your lap purring away enjoying the newfound comfort of the closet.

“Now if you need anything, text me. I’d hang out in here with you, but i’m too fat to do that, i’d probably crush you and poor little Brooklyn cat.” He pets the kitten’s fur and you let out a dainty giggle and look up with glistening eyes at your caring boyfriend. “I’ll let you hang in here where you’re safe and I can grab you when the storm is over and the thunder stops rolling. Will you be okay?” You look in his eyes and feel safe, a smile stretches from ear to ear.

“Now i’ll be okay. Thank you, love.” He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and runs his fingers through your hair.

“I love you my darling.” he says in a gentle quiet voice.

“And I love you Brian.”

[love-pyramus]

Mouse’s Pets

Yeah this is just Mouse bringing home a chicken and a cat

Might be a repost idk-

@am-i-the-boy-you-dreamed-of @brooklyn-is-here @biana-vacker @sour-picklee

---------

Jack was used to Mouse doing odd things. She had her childhood taken, and he didn’t really mind that she did odd things now that she had the opportunity. Sometimes, those things involved bringing an animal home. Like now, Jack watched as the fourteen year old came in with a tiny thing in her arms. “Mouse...what is that?” he asks, pointing to the wriggling creature in her arms. She looked at him before holding up a tiny little kitten, who was missing one of his front legs. “Mouse, what the hell.” Jack says, and Mouse huffs. “I wasn’t gonna leave him there! He’s so small, he ain’t gonna make it!” “Yeah, he ain’t, and I don’t wanna have a dead cat!” Mouse sticks her tounge out and takes the kitten over to the wash bins to clean it. She grabs an extra towel and begins gently washing him, before going to her bed and wrapping him in the blankets. The cats head pokes out as it mewls, and Mouse scratches under his chin. She looks at Jack, who was leaning on the bed post across from her, and smiles. Jack sighed before smiling as well. The cat was adorable now that he was clean, large blue eyes that reminded him of Mouse’s, honestly, and gray fur. “You gotta feed him kid.” He says, and Mouse tilts her head. “What would he eat?” Jack laughs, moving to scratch the cat, but he was hissed at. He retracted his hand and shook his head. “Milk, cause he’s a kitten.” She nods and goes to find some, while Jack watches the kitten, who doesn’t seem to like him. Mouse comes back with a half full bottle of milk and a tiny dish. “Mouse, did you steal that?” He asks, looking at her in shock. She shakes her head. “It was out on the curb!” Jack sighs, and Mouse pours a little bit of it into the dish and holds it close to the cat, who begins lapping at it. He meowed quietly when he was done, and Mouse cooed, causing Jack to smile. “Can I keep him Jackie? Please?” He sighed, but nodded. “You gotta take care of him though.” Mouse squeaked, a joyful noise, and hugged him. “Thank you!”

Jack watched as she kept the cat in her paper bag, and gave him little bits of food she had in her pockets. She always had a smile on her face whenever the cat meowed, and seeing her smile made Jack smile. “His name is Ash.” she says one day. The cat, no longer as tiny and malnourished, was on her lap as she sat, his tail swishing in the air lazily. Jack smiled. “Good name!” Mouse scooped him up in her arms, nodding

As soon as he could keep up with her, Ash began following Mouse everywhere, no longer sitting in her bag all the time. He did prefer sitting there if it was raining, but most of the time he was walking next to Mouse, rubbing against her legs. He became very protective of her, hissing at people he didn’t like that came too close, only stopping if Mouse told him to. Jack never understood why the cat didn’t like him, until one day Mouse got a bit of a cold. She had been out in the rain a bit too long, and Ash had refused to go out in the downpour. She was sneezing, her own sneezes mirroring a cats. Jack thought it was adorable, but didn’t voice it because he knew she’d go to hit him. She had fallen asleep, and Jack went to go feel her temperature, just to make sure, when Ash hissed at him from his place on her bed. “Hey, I’m just trying to make sure she’s ok, I ain’t gonna do nothing.” Jack says, placing a hand on her forehead. Her temperature was normal, maybe a little high, but no cause for concern. He kissed her forehead softly, before feeling something swat at his head. He saw Ash, staring at him, and reached to pet him. Ash nuzzled his head into Jacks hand, and Jack smiled. “What, you like me now because you need someone to pet you?” He stops petting him, and Ash mewls and nuzzles his head into Jacks hand. “Alright you little bastard.” he mumbles. 

The cat, Jack didn’t mind nor think about too much. Now what did make him think, was the day Mouse came home with a chick. “Mouse. What the hell are you doing with that?” Mouse looked down at the chick in her arms before back at Jack. “He’s a baby Jack. He was gonna get slaughtered.” “How do you even know that word?” Mouse shrugs, and Jack sighs. “You ain’t keeping a chicken.” he says. “You sure ain’t gonna stop me.” She retorts, and Jack groans. “Mouse, you ain’t got the stuff to feed a chicken. Ash eats the rodents he catches, a chicken ain’t gonna-” Jack is cut off by Ash coming to investigate. The cat sniffs at the chick before gently picking it up in his mouth and carrying it to the blanket nest. He brought a piece of meat, one that he had caught, and gave it to the chick, who ate it happily. Mouse smirked at Jack, moving to sit with the two. “His name is Pigeon.” Jack stuttered, staring at her. Ash picked up Pigeon again, and placed him on Mouse’s lap, before curling around him. “I’m keeping him.” “I don’t think I have a choice…” Jack mumbles. 

The chick grew into a large chicken, who followed Mouse and Ash around. She seemed happy with her pets, both of which were pretty low maintenance, Ash catching and bringing the food for both of them. People did stare at them, but they didn’t seem to mind, aside from the occasional hiss from Ash

[artiemoonqueen]

Baby

By: Monica Lebron

I was part of a family that had very few pets. We had a turtle that was always there since I can remember but was never...never named. We had doves that my dad once built a coop next to our garage. We would have them in the house as they would sit on our shoulders and often lay unfertilized eggs everywhere. My brother and I were definitely too young to take care of doves. One perished from a night in said coop by a predator, the other was wounded and healed inside the house. We somehow...crushed this one during one of our rough housing. I know I know, we are heathens and should be sent to Peta jail but we were children. Being only three years apart from one another at ages 8-10, we were wrestling and playing on the couch with a comforter and one thing led to another. Our last friend from a pair seems to have gotten tangled up with us. We were very very mournful I swear to you all. After that, our parents had divorced(not because of the doves) and I was left to entertain myself without any responsibility to a pet. It was another story for my brother and mom but this isn;t about their many adventures with pets. This really isn't about the ‘previous’ pets we had in the past. This story is about Baby. In the year 2018, long before my 28th birthday I had to figure out a living situation.

1)find roommates that I knew

2)find roommates that I didn’t know

3)move back with my dad

4)live on my own

Since I had lived two years with roommates that I knew and some I knew too much. Before that I was living with my father that would sometimes ‘break my soul’. And I was a bit hesitant to move with people that were strangers at that time, I took the opportunity to live on my own for the first time. $650.00 for an apartment that has high ceilings, beautiful lighting that I will admit that I am currently kicking myself that I didn’t take enough selfies. Furniture and decorations of my own taste and pretty chill neighbors, the location was a little out of ways from anyone visiting and just down the hill was a large pharmaceutical company that was the ‘leading biotechnology company that invents life-transforming medicines for people with serious diseases’ in other words, high possibility that they are working on zombie-endulced material that a friend of mine who once worked there, would swear that that wasn’t happening but promise to text me ‘code red’ as a warning to get my ass far away from that place in anything were to happen.

So I was alone finally and I had really fucking felt it. I went through a winter before looking through websites for adopting an adult feline. I had no preference other than friendly, pettable, I pick up and hug when I need it, but independent. Spoilers(with tears coming down my face I was able to find that. Sorry I thought this was going to be easier) Before our paths would tangle as the dove with my brother and I’s wrestling match, I first looked on the local humane society website to look for potential companions. While I knew I wanted an older cat because of less time training and the idea of giving an older cat a better life, I saw a green eye, black cat with the christen name ‘Monica’. Now if you want to take this moment to go back to the top of this tale and look at the author’s name, I too am named ‘Monica’. What kinda psycho names a cat with a human name like ‘Monica’? I’ve heard names like Sprinkles, Scooby, Donut, Ringo, Chucky, and just about any reference to a greek god/goddess or dessert. Who was the previous owner that watched too many episodes of ‘Friends’ that decided to name a kitten Monica? I quietly laughed in my lonely one bed-room and moved along the website until the next day, on May 21, 2018. A week before my 28th birthday, my little cousin and I drove our way to the adoption center to look at cats that I had no idea whether I would go through with it or not.

“There’s a cat there named Monica?” my cousin had asked after I told her the musing I did the night before.

“ Yeah, she was cute but I can’t take her! I’d look insane.”

“ You don’t know Monica, maybe she is the one.”

“ Hell fucking no.”

We got out of the car and walked in. The front desk had a box of kittens that needed to be processed in. Their mewls were delightful to hear but were too young to be adopted out. I had signed in and asked ‘what’s your most friendliest outgoing cat here right now?’ The person attending us was quick to say all the cats were great but in her time there she had gotten to like a cat named...Monica. I could feel my cousin's smirking gaze on me. I was not going to subject myself to ridicule for having a cat with my same namesake thank you very much. There were many potential companions to see anyway. Some very old and very young. One with just an eye that I was close to choosing and others with large ears that reminded me of season 1 of ‘Girls’ Adam Sackler. But in the room with both a ‘mr and mrs. Incredible’ was also the notable cat named Monica. Let me tell you a little about the cat that will soon be renamed ‘Baby’. She knew how to get ya’ to want her affection. She knew that being present, unafraid. In the open, fluffy with hints of grey and a rich reddish brown coat along the black, open wide green eyes and a meow that was certain. She was her own saleswoman. In a true cliche, I was ‘hook, line and sinker’.

After $90.00 in cash, in a cardboard ‘cat carrier’ and her meowing away, I took a female, domestic longhair, black, eye color that was the color green. Birth Date 10/2009, formerly named ‘Monica’ home. Our first week, I thought she wanted to get close to me at night so when I awoke to a bat that brushed across my face and not her, that was fun. Eleven shots and two weeks of follow up maintenance shots for rabies, we had gotten familiar to one another. I would feed her half a can of wet food at 5:30 am before my morning shift at my part time job at the dmv and feed her the rest at night after my shift from my salon job. She lay on her back sometimes when we were both in the living room while I enjoyed binging on tv. And meow when I say ‘what?’ when we would eye at each-other. She will follow me to a basement apartment that I shared with my close friend David. We call her ‘pizza’ baby because of the time she climbed alongside the back of the couch while we were eating pizza from Pizzaroni. I felt a tug on my left arm that was holding up my cheese slice. When I looked, she was leaning far to reach my pizza to eat it. Not a successful attempt that time but she will try again. She constantly wanted the attention of David to which he would gladly and promptly pet her while she purred and then quickly turned around to bit his hand away. He always gave her the attention though. For that I am grateful for David. You made sure she ate and loved. You affectionately talk about her to your parents on your long distance phone calls with them and tell your two ideal brunch buddies about your time with Baby. You were the best coparent for her when I would leave for a week long trip to Europe or weekends away to work conventions. She loved you. You had to know that, and you Mike. She loved you too. But she didn’t love the dogs that would shit all over the backyard on the walkway to the trash. Those assholes.

Her next adventure with a month long excursion to my dad’s house before the final move together. While I worked my last few weeks at the salon to save for the time that I would become a true ‘City’ woman. She would find ways to break into my dad's room to lay on the middle of his bed and sleep. His heater would be right in her direction, while we sat unknowing in his recliner in front of his tv. He didn't want to like her. I know this. But who could meet a cat like Baby and not love her. Who would not love seeing a black cat go on her hind legs to look out the window that you have looked through to see the ongoings of the gentleman club next door. Yes, from grades eighth to age 26 I had lived in an apartment that was a stone throw away from a gentleman’s club that late at night, my dad would wake me up to see out the window and watch as the patrons would take pictures of topless dancers on the sign of the establishment before a game of ‘catch me if you can’ through the usual busy main street formerly known as The Bowery before 1867 however that should be left for another drawn out tale. Baby will have a final destination and despite her short time here, my dream of her sleeping peacefully near me while I lay on my bed on a raining day did come to fruition. Super Bowl LIV, February 2, 2019. Both my birth mother and I are hungover from separate nights from each other. She picks up my stuff, Baby and I. And we head to my current apartment in Brooklyn, New York. A dream that I have had besides the many others that will be done and accomplished, I swear. Baby is free to roam the car but she opts to explore little and sleeps most of the way to hear and then to Long Beach for two nights of rest. She walks around like the fearless cat that she is in any space she is in. Never cowers. Never shows fear or intimidation. She is fucking awesome in all her glory and we live together here for another six months until she seems to not to be herself.

As I live in a time of fear for my health during a pandemic, I don’t realize that Baby could be going through a decrease of quality of life with some kind of kidney failure. It was all too quick the deterioration in her appearance and behavior. I was quick to get her to a vet but the results showed more than we had thought and I had to bring her to an emergency vet. They were so kind but when the doctor told me the treatment that would be done to her, I agreed to then going to reception to find out that I would even have enough money to keep her there for a day of treatment. I paid for blood work, exam fees and medicine just to try and figure a way and she seemed to perk up again and walk her way to her favorite rooms to look out the windows or spy on us watching another extructating episode of White Lines. But she wouldn’t eat. For almost three weeks she wouldn’t eat and I had to force feed her food but she didn't want it. I would just get frustrated and I’m sure she was frustrated with me but why wouldn’t she just eat and take the medicine and be like another girls cat that has had kidney failure for years but the cat was still going? Why?

I knew what was going to happen if I made another appointment. I knew and I didn’t want to know. I just had to make the appointment because what if? What if, despite the week before she was back to her ‘old self’ she got even worse the following week, and couldn’t even walk in a straight line. What if her constant sleeping was just her trying to heal herself? What if I bring her one more time and they have a better option that I can afford and I can bring her home and she could lay right beside me on the bed like she use to and look at me with her beautiful green giant eyes that a kid once said were evil eyes but your are dumb kid, really dumb. What if? That’s not how it goes though. We know in our souls when it’s time to say that horrible and final goodbye. So we push through, kiss them more and hold them close and bring them to the vet. We will wait and listen with tears already shed for the answer we didn’t want. The answer that didn’t fit with the what ifs. And you try to say your goodbye while uttering so many I’m so sorry. This isn’t a mom in hospice or a phone call from the police saying your sibling has passed. It’s nothing close to seeing the numbers of people dying from a virus or you dad getting in an accident and obtaining horrible injuries. Those pains are harsh, and grasping air. Those pains affect the heart, and brain for the rest of your life. Baby is like one in a million pets that people have lost. There will be millions of pets to come and go after my time here. However Baby was mine for a short time, but mine. I love her. I miss her. I feel her but I know she can never be here with me again. Feeling her not in the room with us but still having her body left was eerie. She made me happy, and loved like a familiar to its owner. Her snores by my head will be missed. Her purrs and weight on my chest. Her constant knots in her long hair. Her allowances of my kisses on her head. Goodbye Monica, Goodbye Baby.

END

[daisugababy]

Rules: Answer 20 questions then tag 20 bloggers you want to get to know better!

I was tagged by @novemberhush! Thank you :)

1. Name: Sibel

2. Nicknames: My former friends back from school and my parents call me Sibi. I hate that one lmao So I’m glad that the only friend i still got from school doesn’t do that anymore lol. And then some of my co-workers call me Belle. The rest just calls me by my name.

3. Zodiac sign: Taurus

4. Height: i always thought i was 5′5 but my friend and i measured each other and turns out i’m only 5′3 LMAOOO

5. Languages spoken: German, English, some French, a bit Spanish and a tiny portion Korean.

6. Nationality: I was born in Germany, but my dad is from Turkey. (and yeah, i sadly don’t speak any Turkish)

7. Favourite season: Autumn my dudes, cause it’s the season of Halloween lol 

8. Favourite flower: Sunflowers

9. Favourite scent: Freshly baked pies and bread, the ocean and the scent after it rained when the ground is still wet.

10. Favourite colour: Black, blue and lilac. But I also love pink.

11. Favourite animal: Birds. Absolutely birds.

12. Favourite fictional character(s): Oh wow that’s hard. I loved Lexie Grey. She was just so unapologitcally herself?? I also loved Ziva David from NCIS. She was the first female character that made me go ‘oh, maybe i’m not so straight after all??’ 

I also enjoyed Mike Ross from Suits, Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99 and Leonard Snart from the Arrowerse.

13: Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate: Uhhm... All three.

14. Average sleep hours: Between 5 and 8 hours. It varies a lot haha.

15. Dog or Cat person: Meow!

16. Number of blankets you sleep with: Mostly one. unles smy feet are cold, then I drape another one only over my feet and leg cause otherwise i’ll just sweat.

17. Dream trip: I really wanna see the pyramids. And then relax at a beach for like three weeks.

18. Blog established: March 2011 oh holy fuck

19. Followers: eh

20. Random fact: I’m just really tired rn haha.

I tag (also hello if u don’t know my main, i’m @lucybradford!): @glassesandkim @derek-shepherds @justnotperfectly @she-walked-away @schmico-ing @geofenderwrites @bizzareworlds @malecschmico @kpopmaypop95 @shesbreathless @siahana @lucy-bradford @pinkobsessedfreak @ksiouxw

no worries tho if you don’t have the time or just don’t wanna do it :)

[bamf-alec]

All Things By A Law Divine

Prologue

Artist: Lady Koalart (who did an absolutely incredible job)

Beta: @jeanboulet​

Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, various background pairings

Summary: Magnus had waited a long time for his soulmate to be born. Fate must have had a sick sense of humour, though, because after all these centuries, it had handed him a Shadowhunter. Magnus didn’t know who this Shadowhunter was, or how they could possibly be meant for each other, but he did know that this story wouldn't have a happy ending.

Alec also knew all about fate's sense of humour. He had known this his whole life. But the ground was coming up from under him and everything he knew was being turned on its head, systematically picked up and pulled apart and handed back to him looking nothing like it did before. Valentine was alive. His own parents had been members of the Circle. The Lightwoods’ grip on the Institute was slipping. And, through all this, his siblings had found their soulmates.

Alec had found Magnus. But that didn’t mean anything, did it?

Link to AO3:

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/33515842/chapters/83272549

** I would really prefer you read it on AO3! **

This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2021: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver​

It was an otherwise ordinary Tuesday that Maryse Lightwood showed up at Magnus’s door. It was raining so heavily it bounced off the roof, like a constant cascade of rocks overhead. Briefly, he wondered if it was heralding her presence.

He shut the door in her face.

“Please,” she begged.

Magnus pretended not to hear her.

“Please, he’s just a child.”

That got Magnus’s attention. Warily, he peered through the peephole. At first, all he saw was a hundred and something pounds of soaked shadowhunter with a circular rune burned into her neck. Then, he saw the tiny bundle in her arms. It moved.

“Why?” Magnus asked. He didn’t clarify any further. He had many questions, and he couldn’t decide which was most important.

Maryse answered them anyway. “He’s sick. I couldn’t—” she choked herself off. Still looking through the peephole, he could see the terror on her face. The kind of terror only a mother fearing the loss of a child could manage. “I’m not a healer, and the iratze wasn’t enough. Please, help him.”

Magnus pursed his lips. On the one hand, this could be a ruse to let her past his wards so she could slit his throat and further cripple the already fractured Downworld. On the other hand, Magnus wasn’t a monster, and the baby had probably not slit any Downworlder throats in its short time on this earth. Maybe the baby would grow up to lead a revolution against the Clave, would demolish the existence of shadowhunters altogether. Maybe it wouldn’t be a shadowhunter at all, exiled, and instead would grow up to be a harmless investment banker in Brooklyn.

The former was unlikely, with two circle members for parents. The latter was much more likely, with two circle members for parents while the Clave and every Downworlder were calling for their heads. They would be caught, and they would be punished. Exile, if not execution, seemed a plausible future.

He could turn her in, he realized. He could heal whatever ailed the Lightwood spawn, ridding him of any potential guilt, and then he could send a fire message to the Clave that they were here.

He thought it over again. Not the Clave. Maybe just the other Downworlders. They could all decide what to do with her, together. This dark war had brought the four factions of the Downworld closer together than they’d ever been, any conflict between them pushed aside for the bigger picture.

“Fine,” he said. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, past his wards. This way if she lunged at him, all he had to do was take a step back into his apartment.

There were two chairs and a small table at the end of the hall, just beside his door. Dead petunias rotted in a waterless vase. He waved a hand. They each took one of the chairs. She passed him the squirming bundle like it was the most fragile thing she’d ever held, her eyes never leaving it. He wasn’t certain she was blinking.

It was warm. Magnus wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Though they may be soulless, Nephilim were living, breathing creatures like the rest of them. Flesh and blood.

With one careful finger, he held the blanket out of the way so he could see the baby’s face. It stared up at him with wide eyes and drool on its chin. Miraculously, it managed to detangle its right arm from the carefully wrapped blanket and extended it towards his face, its tiny fingers grabbing at air. Involuntarily, Magnus’s heart warmed.

He dropped his glamour for a second, flashing his cat eyes at it. It blinked once, and then twice, and then a third time. Then an excited burst of laughter escaped it, and it put its hand over its own eye, as if to say, do we match?

Magnus smiled. Then he caught Maryse’s wary expression and tightened his own. “Let’s see what’s the matter, then, shall we?”

It wasn’t difficult to see the problem. Where they should have been purple or blue, barely visible beneath its pale skin, the baby’s veins were bright green. Demon venom. Magnus’s face was stormy when he turned back to its mother. “And how, pray tell, did this happen?”

Maryse wouldn’t look at him. She looked at the dead flowers, and then the carpet, and then her son. “Does it matter? Can you help him or not?”

Magnus didn’t mention that shadowhunters knew how to treat this. If she’d gone to them, they would’ve carted her off to their prison in Idris, and who knows if they would’ve saved the boy or let him die, their hands technically clean for not having poisoned him themselves. It served her right, he thought, to have no one to turn to. To be left with no other option but the Downworlders she so despised. Karma, perhaps.

“I can help him,” Magnus told her. He cast his gaze down the long hallway, then sighed. “You’ll have to come in. I need to brew a potion.”

At the mention of potions, Maryse’s lips curled up just slightly, as though suddenly reminded that she was sitting with a warlock. Nevertheless, Magnus opened the door for her and, nevertheless, she went in. He handed her her son as she passed.

Nothing else was said as Magnus gathered ingredients and mixed them together, liquid forming and changing colours as the minutes passed. While he stirred, he looked up from his desk in the study out to the living room, just to make sure she hadn’t done anything suspicious.

Magnus wondered if he was stupid. Letting a circle member through his door while her friends were out there killing or plotting to kill his people. His friends.

But Magnus wasn’t a monster, and he wasn’t in the business of leaving innocent babies to their slow and painful deaths. If the tables were turned and it were a warlock child needing Maryse’s help, he doubted she would be so kind.

It made it easier. He was the bigger person. The circle was the lowest of the low, and those they hunted were far above them. He wouldn’t be brought down to their level.

It was difficult to picture Maryse hunting anyone when she stood, soaked to the bone, in his living room, clutching her son to her chest like he might be snatched away at any second. She had one finger in the opening of the blanket he was swaddled in. She flicked his nose. His tiny fingers struggled to keep a hold of hers. Even from far away, Magnus could see the tears she was trying not to shed.

Magnus cleared his throat. “I’m done,” he announced, holding the bottle of thick red liquid up to the light. He squinted through it to make sure it looked right before bringing it over to the child. Maryse watched him with tight lips and cautious eyes as he gently tipped it into the baby’s mouth. Its free hand reached for the bottle, sliding off the smooth glass surface, and it pouted in confusion. Again, Magnus found himself smiling at it and had to school his face back to something grim and judgemental.

“He’ll be fine,” he said, leaning back. He flicked his hand and the empty bottle returned to his study in a flash of blue sparks. Maryse was too busy cooing at her son to be disgusted by it. “Give it an hour or two to take effect.”

She swallowed. Finally, she met his eyes. “Thank you,” she said, and seemed to really mean it.

Magnus held her gaze. He couldn’t help himself. “He’s all healed up to be raised a monster, just like his parents. Tell me, will you take him with you while you hunt and slaughter innocent warlocks?”

Maryse’s expression darkened. She pursed her lips. In her arms, the baby made a distressed noise in protest at being squeezed too tightly, and she rocked it a bit to quiet it. When she turned back to Magnus, he felt studied for a long moment. As the moment dragged on, her face became more and more conflicted.

“How did this happen?” Magnus asked again, as he had earlier, but this time it was gentler.

She shook her head. She rocked the baby some more, and this time a tear slipped out before she could catch it. She wiped it away with a wet, humourless laugh. “It’s so strange, how the world changes when you have a child. One moment, you’re you and the next you’re a mother, and you’re holding this precious little thing that can’t fend for itself, that can’t do anything but smile at you, and everything is different. Nothing matters but protecting them.” The last part she whispered mostly to herself, like she was reassuring herself. More firmly, she repeated, “Nothing.”

Magnus was silent while she wiped away another tear. He looked at the baby as he said, “I reckon that’s a difficult job when everyone wants your head and your only friends are homicidal psychopaths who poison children.”

He expected her to be offended, but she wasn’t. She glanced at Magnus, then back to her son. Chairman Meow chose that particular moment to wander out from the bedroom, stretching as he went and rubbing up on the couch until it was sufficiently covered in cat hair. Maryse watched him. Magnus thought he might have seen something pass over her face, but it was gone too fast to tell.

“It is,” was all she said.

[pameluke]

Of Cats And Kisses by Pameluke | @janoda

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Characters: Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane Additional Tags: Cats, Fluff, Slice of Life, Magnus Bane Is Quite Magical Summary:

It starts with one

ONE.

When Alec walks into Magnus’ apartment, he’s immediately attacked. Something tiny but aggressive attaches itself to his boot, nearly making him trip. Suprised, he drops one of the bags filled with food he brought from the deli-shop—he thought he could try his hand at paella tonight—but it never makes it to the ground.

“What happened to Shadowhunter reflexes?” Magnus asks, snapping his fingers to magick the grocery bags away, hopefully to the kitchen.

“They didn’t expect a cat?” Alec lifts his boot, a tiny, fierce, grey ball of rage still hanging on. “At least I think it’s a cat? It’s a bit of a runt.”

Magnus points a finger to Alec, then bends down to whisk the kitten away. “Don’t offend the Chairman.”

“What kind of name is Chairman?” Alec follows Magnus to the living area, the grey menace glaring at him from where it’s perched on Magnus’ shoulder.

“His name is Chairman Meow.”

Alec snorts, charmed despite himself. He toes off his shoes, settles next to Magnus on the couch, keeping a respectful distance from the ferocious creature that's still looking at him as if it's going to murder him any second now, safely sitting on Magnus' lap.

Alec carefully offers his fingers to the kitten so it can sniff them. "Are you going to let me kiss my boyfriend?" he asks. "It's really important to me I get to kiss him, so I'll play with you later if you let me."

Magnus stops petting the kitten. "Important, huh?"

Alec looks up at him. "Very. It's the best part of my day."

"Then I think you should kiss him, danger or no danger." Magnus is grinning at him, and Alec loves him like this, carefree, a little bit silly, and happy.

So risking life and limbs, he leans over and kisses Magnus until they're both slightly out of breath, and the kitten has escaped Magnus' lap to explore the rest of the loft.

Just as well, because Alec hasn't kissed Magnus enough yet today.

SEVENTEEN.

Alec knows Magnus is somewhere in the loft—there’s a potion simmering in his workplace, and he never leaves them unattended long ever since Julius Catsar was turned blue after he managed to fall into a cauldron—he just can’t find him. He’s not in the bedroom or the kitchen, where Alec shoos Bouddhicat and Marie Purrie of off the counter despite the betrayed looks they throw him. Which means Magnus is probably on the roof. It’s been raining for three days straight, so Alec has no idea what he’s doing up there, but maybe the potion needs some freshly fallen rain or something like that. When he opens the door to the roof however, it’s not the winter downpour over the drab New York skyline that greats him, but singing birds and a bright blue sky.

Alec blinks. There’s green everywhere. He’s standing on moss, there’s some kind of bush growing against the brick wall of the building, and an actual tree at the edge of the roof, next to the balustrade. Magnus is sitting on a bench in the shade of the tree, looking like nothing is out of the ordinary.

“Darling,” he greets Alec, without taking his eyes from what he’s looking at.

Alec follows his gaze and gasps when he spots him. Below them, where normally the roof of the neighboring building is, lies what looks like an actual jungle. It spans the roofs of about three buildings, copious greenery only broken up by a small brook, water splashing softly, and a small meadow, grass speckled with flowers in an explosion of color. Basking in the sun, ears twitching, lies a huge black panther, spread out comfortably on a dark rock.

“Magnus,” Alec breathes in amazement, otherwise speechless. He sits next to Magnus, stunned.

“Don’t worry, the whole thing is glamoured, no one will notice it’s there,” Magnus says as if that’s Alec’s only worry. The panther doesn’t seem to hear them, or doesn’t care they’re there, but continues to enjoy the sun.

“Ok, but- Why?” Alec is at a loss for words. He knows Magnus loves cats, they’ve got an apartment filled with them as proof, but even for Magnus, this seems kind of much.

Magnus shrugs. “Dahlia called. She’s got a weakness for mistreated animals, probably because she spent so much of her youth with a traveling circus in the early 1900s. She rescued him from some kind of black market breeder, where he’d been living in a cage. She’s planning to get him to a rescue center, but while she sets that up, I’m taking care of him.”

Below them, the panther finally has enough of his sunbathing, and leisurely jumps of the rock. He doesn’t look mistreated, looks healthy and well-fed as far as Alec can tell, but maybe Magnus’ friend has had him for a while. Its movements are graceful, strides long and fluid, tail swishing. Alec can’t help but be mesmerized.

“He’s beautiful,” Alec whispers, watching as the panther climbs a tree, all strength and grace, almost disappearing entirely in the foliage.

“He is,” Magnus sighs. “I was just thinking he reminds me of you.”

Alec flusters and mock-elbows Magnus in the side, still not used to compliments like this, no matter how many of them Magnus doles out. He scoots a little closer though, until their thighs are touching and he can grasp Magnus’ hand to press a kiss against his knuckles. They watch the panther settle down onto a thick branch, black fur hard to see in the shade, but the swishing of its tail betraying its location.

It’s peaceful, sitting here on a bench next to Magnus, enjoying the view. Peaceful and a little bit magical, partly due to the fact they’re looking at a jungle hidden on Brooklyn rooftops, but mostly thanks to Magnus’ company.

“So, what did you name it?” Alec eventually breaks the silence.

Magnus studies his rings, in an attempt to look innocent, but Alec knows him, knows he wouldn’t have been able to resist naming something that magnificent residing at the loft, even if it’s only temporary.

Alec pulls him into his side, until he can wrap his arm around Magnus’ shoulders and kiss the top of his head. “I know you named him something ridiculous, like Napoleon Bonapanther or something.”

Magnus snorts, pulls himself loose a little to give Alec the side-eye. “None of my cats have ridiculous names, and I’d never stoop to Napoleon Bonapanther, Alec, please.”

Alec rolls his eyes and pulls Magnus back again. They’re both smiling though, and Alec feels suddenly, terribly, incredibly in love. It’s moments like these, when they’re teasing and cuddling during a quiet night, that Alec truly realizes how magical their love is. It’s something precious, and he treasures every moment.

“Its name is Genghis Khat,” Magnus says, grinning.

Alec laughs, then kisses the smile on Magnus' lips, keeps kissing him until there’s just hitched breaths and love between them.

Below them, the panther sleeps on.

[provider-of-pronoun-checks]

ive made quite a few requests before but igave myself different typing styles like the amount of exclamation marks iuse or something and in reqs iget rid of my little typing quirk where ijoin "i" with the next word yk bc shy and socially awkward /lh

yea so irequested ithink the brooklyn with she/meow/rain

iwas jupiter w she/cali

sometimes ijust pick a few of my pronouns that arent used too often and ask for those alongside she/her yeaaaaa and often ilike trying out a new name too (iusually dont use them tho) :0

anyway ilove this account and ive followed for agesssss so imight as well become like a fancy little anon here

- your newly appointed purple planet anon

ps indigo + jupiter -> purple planet imrlly funny

ps 2.0 is it okay if we make pronoun checks for ocs????? ive always considered it

sorry if too many questions and info

Oooh ok! You never have to get rid of your typing quirk! It's no problem for me! Plus, you could send a million asks in the time span of 5 minutes and I wouldn't mind :]

That's smart! I used to do that before I figured out my hoard.

Ooh! Welcome purple planet anon! I tip my fancy tophat to thee :D I like the pun/play in words in your signoff :]

Yep! You can send in pronoun checks for ocs if you like!

It's no problem! I like getting long asks, especially when it's people talking to me! It's fun :] /gen

[thecrookedgavel]

The Crooked Gavel - Ep 1 Transcript

Here is the transcript for Episode 1 of the queer audio drama - The Crooked Gavel. 

Audio of the episodes can be found here

Episode 1 Transcript

Credits Voice: You are listening to episode 1 of The Crooked Gavel: A 1920’s tale of court drama and lesbian romance, produced by Crooked Gavel Productions. This episode contains a scene of sexual assault, please look after yourself while listening.

Alice: I need an Earl Grey tea with just a bit of milk. It’s for Miss Paprika over at table 7, so make sure it’s cooled off a bit before I take it over to her!

Harry: Thank you, Alice. One noodle juice with a splash, less of a quilt and more of a bedsheet, on the way.

Alice: So as I was saying, my Daddy’s doing just fine, thanks for asking. He’s still working hard as headmaster and loving it. He did say he’s missing having you around in his last letter though, if that’s what you were wondering about.

Harry: *laughs* well if I’ve got to be honest, I was wondering just that. Some days, I miss teaching those little Joe Brooks, but making java and beating my gums with other intellectuals is the place to be. *sigh* Last time your father was here from Texas, we saw a Yankees game together. Say, did you listen to this week’s game? Hot dawg, I tell you, it had me jumping!

Alice: Oh no, Mr. Tarragon. I don’t much care for baseball. Never really interested me at all. The way you men drone on and on about it… Why, I am likely to be bored to tears.

Harry: Oh, come now, in my experience, everyone loves baseball. Even the ladies!

Alice: Only when they’re trying to impress a big timer.

Harry: In that case, you’d do well to learn a bit about baseball to aid you in your search for a husband.

Alice: Oh, Mr Tarragon, I’m not exactly husband hunting at the moment.

Harry: Really? Then what are you here in Brooklyn looking for? And please, give me a straight answer this time.

Alice: Well, inspiration. Direction. Belonging. Living in Texas just wasn’t for me. I found big city life to be very appealing. I’m sure you know the feeling.

Harry: You got me there. It took me a while to find where I fit in. But running The Crooked Gavel seems to suit me just fine. I do hope you find what you’re looking for. Order up!

Alice: Thank you Mr Tarragon, I think that I will.

---

Alice: Here’s your tea, Miss Paprika

Lillian: Thank you very much, young lady. *takes a sip* The tea is lovely, just the right temperature for me to start drinking. And I didn’t even have to ask this time!

Alice: You’re quite welcome. How’s your nephew doing, by the way?

Lillian: He’s doing wonderfully! Mathew’s started to get a lot of cases, possibly more than he has time for. But he just can’t say no to someone in need, I can tell you that.

Alice: I’m glad to hear that being a prosecutor has started to bear fruit. Speaking of, would you like me to bring you an apple to your table?

Lillian: Oh no, thank you. I’ll be leaving shortly after I finish my tea. I’m meeting Matthew outside as soon as he finishes up his paperwork for the afternoon. The boy has quite the gift for it, I’m told. This coffee house is so close to the courthouse, it just makes sense to drop in and see you! We’ll be taking a walk as soon as he gets here, since it’s such a lovely September afternoon.

Alice: Sure beats the storm last week. It started raining pitchforks so suddenly that I was caught walking home without an umbrella. Let me tell you, by the time I got home again, I looked like a cat that had a whole bathtub full of water dumped on her. Positively dreadful.

Lillian: *laughs heartily* That’s hard to imagine, given you look like the cat’s meow today! My dear, if only I were a few years younger.

Alice: Or if I were a few years older.

Lillian: *chuckle* if only… Anyways, my dear, here’s what I owe you for the tea. And don’t worry, you can keep the change.

Alice: Why thank you very much, miss Paprika. I do hope you have a lovely walk outside and an even lovelier day.

Lillian: Thank you, Alice. Good day to you, too.

---

Alice: I’m back!

Harry: You seem full of energy all of a sudden. Well, more so than usual.

Alice: I am indeed, and not because miss Paprika gave such a generous tip. She’s simply a pleasure to talk to. By the way, she said her tea was the perfect temperature for drinking.

Harry: Oh, Glad to hear, though you were the one who reminded me to let it cool. You have such a mind for people. I don’t know how you do it.

Alice: That’s very kind of you to say, Mr Tarragon. Why, I don’t think anything can ruin my mood right now!

*Door with bell opens*

Alice: Aww, shoot. I guess I spoke too soon. Well if it isn’t --

Harry: Judge Cayenne, always a pleasure to see the old egg

Alice: More like a bad egg. I know how he talks to you! You ought to hear how he talks to the rest of the staff. One time that high hat broke Betty’s poor heart down to tears. And she’s a regular bearcat!

Harry: John? What a bunch of malarkey! He is a pillar of our community… Why, he --- Well… To be honest, I have been hearing some rather nasty rumours about him lately

Alice: Yes? Do tell.

Harry: Let’s just say that if chin music is to be believed, that old bird makes the Crooked Gavel look straight. They all stem from the man he walked in with, Frank Saffron. That’s Cayenne’s assistant. He’s known to keep track of some rather dirty laundry. Mix in the fact that he’s so deep in the judge’s pocket, that he might as well be a couple of clams, and you’ve got yourself some moonshine that’ll put you straight in your coffin.

Alice: Now that sounds more like the fella I know

Harry: Both looking over here like they know what they want. *pause* That’s your cue, Alice.

Alice: Ooooh, but Mr Tarragon… Mr Cayenne makes me feel so uncomfortable. The way he talks down to me… it’s detestable. Couldn’t you serve him instead?

Harry: *sigh* Alice, I’m not paying you to be comfortable, I’m paying you to serve customers. He’s a customer, so serve him.

Alice: Oh, alright. I’m going, I’m going.

---

Alice: Welcome to the Crooked Gavel. My name is Alice, and I will be serving you today. Is there anything I can get for you?

Cayenne: Finally, we have been waiting for ages! You really know how to put the ‘wait’ in ‘wait staff’

Frank: *laughs a little too loudly* That’s a good one! You slay me, your honor.

Alice: Now that’s a load of hooey! You’ve not been here two whole minutes and yet you’re complaining. Now tell me, sir, did you bite into a lemon while I wasn’t looking, or is that face of yours just natural?

Cayenne: Buh - How dare you, you little trollop! You have just confirmed in my mind that you are disrespectful, vapid, and difficult to get along with

Alice: Well, for a judge, you don’t seem to be a very good judge of character

Frank: Oh yeah? Says who? Alice: Says everyone I’ve met with today. They all seemed to think very highly of me. Meanwhile, Mr Cayenne, you seem ill-tempered, antiquated, and like you’d be the wet blanket at a party.

Cayenne: *growl* You are living proof that women are best seen and not heard

Alice: As opposed to you, who is best not seen at all

Frank: *whispers* Wow, she sure got you good

Cayenne: *whispers* Silence… *normal tone* We would like to start with two espressos, mine with milk, his with sugar. Make sure his is cooled, and mine is hot

Alice: One test of my patience, coming right up

---

Cayenne: Though I usually prefer to be served by a woman for what I think to be… Obvious reasons…. It really can be quite taxing to have to actually speak with them

Frank: And how! You certainly have a way with words, your honor.

Cayenne: Thank you, old boy. That’s very kind of you. But that’s enough about her, let’s get down to business. Any changes to the monthly… donations to the John Cayenne fund?

Frank: Let me take a look. Hmmm… Everything seems to be in order…. Ah yes, it looks like the Mace brothers have missed their payment for the second month in a row.

Cayenne: Well... won’t they be surprised the next time either of them ends up in court. And exactly how much… creative accounting were you able to pull off this time?

Frank: This month I was able to get you 12 percent off the top.

Cayenne: *laughs* Attaboy, Frank. Excellent work, as always. You really are my right hand man, you know.

Frank: Aww shucks. It was nothing, your honor, really.

Cayenne: The only thing that would make this day better is to teach that flippant waitress a lesson. Wait, *chuckles* I have an idea that will put our little miss in her place...

---

Alice: Here are your drinks, made just the way you asked

Cayenne: Here, let me take them from you

Alice: No need to --- Woaaah! *Crash*

Alice: Now why’d you have to go and do a thing like that? You know I’m perfectly capable of placing drinks on a table myself!

Cayenne: Oh, sorry, sorry. How completely foolish of me. I don’t know what came over me.

Alice: You better be sorry, now I have to stoop down and clean this mess up all by myself

Cayenne: Yes, I suppose you will

*Slap*

Alice: *Gasp* Now would you kindly remove your hand from my backside, please? I-I-I find that wildly inappropriate… Your honor

Cayenne: Inappropriate? But you were the one who bent down in front of me. Wearing that dress… Wearing those heels. Why, you were simply asking for it.

Alice: I did not ask for you to… *gulp* try and woo me in that manner. I-I-I was simply doing my job

Frank: Your honour, don’t you think---

Cayenne: ubp, ubp, ubp! Woo you? Ha! Don’t flatter yourself thinking I was trying to woo you, sweetheart. You’re not even that good looking of a girl!

Alice: Well… Well then, why would you ---?

Harry: Alice, could you come over here a minute? Now?

---

Harry:  For crying out loud, Alice! Not only have you wasted a perfectly good set of espressos, but you’ve painted a customer’s suit with them! And not just any customer, I might add, but John Cayenne? He could shut the place down if he wanted to. What is the matter with you?

Alice: Please, Mr. Tarragon, you have to listen to me. None of this was my fault. He… That prune pit... Tipped over my hands on purpose! And worse, he did it so he could… So he could paw at me. I don’t feel so good. My knees feel so weak. And my head…

Harry: Oh here, why don’t you have a seat? *chair moving* 

Alice: Thank you… I can’t believe this has happened to me. You hear stories like these all the time, but I never thought it would happen to me. This just can’t be happening.

Harry: Oh, Alice. I can see how this would be awful for you. But you have to look on the bright side. He didn’t hurt you, or steal something of yours. No real crime was committed here today

Alice: No, that was definitely a crime, I know it must be. This whole thing has made me feel more terrible than I ever have in my life!

Harry: I understand, but there’s nothing left to be done. You’ll feel better in no time! I’ll give you a few minutes to compose yourself

Alice: I think I’m going to need more than a few minutes, Mr Tarragon. And there is so something that can be done! He can be pinched and shoved into a jail cell for what he did.

Harry: You can’t be suggesting that -

Alice: Yes I am, indeed. I’m going to take him to court. And you’re going to be my witness

Harry: Oh, no, that I cannot do. With the kind of pull that man has in the legal community, one word and there’d be a boycott on this establishment from every lawyer, aide, and clerk in Brooklyn. That’s more than half our regular clientele! 

Alice: Please, that awful man needs to be taken off the streets. You said yourself that he’s not on the level. He deserves to rot in jail for touching me like that.

Harry: I’m sorry Alice, but I… I didn’t see it happen. I can’t help you.

Alice: Baloney! With all the commotion, the entire BLOCK must have looked over.

Harry: I was already fixing up some java to replace the order that you… Well, he… dropped. Even if I had seen, I’d be out of a job if I spoke up. You’d be out of a job too.

Alice: I’m going to be out of a job this instant if you don’t pledge to help me!

Harry: Alice… Please don’t do this. I already said I can’t help you. Think of your future, think of your father, what would he say?

Alice: My father would support me no matter what. I’m sorry that you don’t share the same conviction. This is goodbye, Mr. Tarragon.

Harry: Alright, alright, I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you two months pay to hold you over until you find another job. Just don’t come back here expecting a place at the Gavel when your kale goes sour. 

Alice: *Pause* Thank you Mr Tarragon. You’ve always been very kind to me. I will remember that.

Harry: I can see it in your eyes that you’ll see this court idea of yours through to the end. Go on now,  I’ll clean up this mess myself. You go along home and get some rest.

Alice: Then, this is not goodbye. Only farewell. I do hope to see you again soon, only next time with justice by my side.

Harry: *Chuckles* Farewell then, Alice.

---

Alice: Mr Cayenne, a pleasure to see you, as always. Next time I see you, it’ll be in court!

Cayenne: Seeing as I have a career as a Judge, that is indeed a place you’d expect to see me

*Door with bell closes*

---

Credits Voice Thank you for listening to episode 1 of The Crooked Gavel! Follow us on Twitter @TheCrookedGavel for updates and discussions of this and other queer projects. This episode’s cast in order of appearance:

Katte Noel as Alice Cinnamon 

Nicholas Alain as Harry Tarragon 

Kaidan Cormier as Lillian Paprika 

An Capuano as Frank Saffron

Michael Hope as John Cayenne 

And An Capuano as the credits voice

Directed by - An Capuano

Produced by - An Capuano 

Written by - An Capuano

Copy Editing by - Sharon van Wyngaarden

Casting by - An Capuano

Sound Design by - An Capuano and BA Nemo

Logo Artist - McKenna Pipher

Audio Editing by - An Capuano

Audio Mastering by - An Capuano

Music by - Kevin MacLeod

Music used in this episode is attributed in the description.

[vasilinaorlova]

in imitation of handwriting [I}

                               [suffocating} actually, yes, I am catfishing.                                [laughing at you}                                [                      }                     Zhanna Aguzarova was the star of the mid-eighties musical scene in Russia; she was indeed exceedingly brilliant, as pretty much any of her video, however amateurish, testified; she moved to the US on the rising of her career to her complete and utter failure; drove cab for years. she returned to Russia only to be never heard of again. Lady Gaga appeared much later, employed far more serious amount of money, never reached Aguzarova’s extravagance and bizzareness, and contributed far less to the music’s history if one considers a contribution, melodiousness and playful fluency of sound. only a Christian could be a Satanist. my Russian is vulgar, but my English is superb. the woman kissing the lizard.                                  the lizard wriggles,                           (I suppose it does not want to be kissed.)                                                                                      red stain   id est willow. [feeble]    single digit I err, ergo    ipse dixit                                                                                       who made you? he spoke such an ancient language, that a row of translators should have worked to make him clear: from Sumerian into Akkadian, from Akkadian into Aramaic, from Aramaic into the Arabic of great emirs, from this Arabic into Maltese Arabic, from Maltese Arabic into Cicero Latin, from which it was already easy to render the spoken word into Vulgar Latin, and so forth, until it reached (with next to no distortions and without losing many of the rhetorical flowers) the grand contemporary urban industrial outskirts American English vernacular. in this almost oecumenically understood language’s rendition, the lengthy speech amounted to the ejaculation “oh wow,” according to the areopagus’s agreement (the agreement reached despite that a heretic insisted on cutting the “oh” for the sake of laconicity and precision*). _______________ since she was born in Brooklyn and had come of age in Bronx, she could have no authority on the subject matter, and thus was dismissed and, after a dispute and a protracted consideration we have no business outlining here, first stripped of titles, then of citizenship, then of clothes, then boiled in oil to everyone’s delight.                                                   cats’ sadistic eros (incessant meowing)                                                meat cauldron (human being)

I wanted a lipstick with a metal finish, because simple red got to the point when it had no more potential to become any redder. I found the lipstick that I wanted, Urban Decay, Cruel Seduction (official name of the product; silly, I admit)

it should have obliterated windshields of cars, as bright lipstick do

however

(customer’s complaint)

there was nothing cruel

and not a grain of seduction in it

even written with un-capital (decapitalized) (decapitated) letters

at least on my (never kissed by you) lips

instead, it emitted such a tender, modest sheen

as if not (promised and displayed on models) metal, death, and destruction was wrought into it

but rather nostalgic / feeble shadows enmeshed

soft

sought and obtained

metal finish

turned into some flowery melt and powder

it reminded me of my grandmother’s Soviet lipstick most of all–shiny finish was considered fashionable for twenty years, alternatively

she considered it fashionable for twenty years

since she kept objects for a long time

there was a match to extract the remnants of lipstick out of the tube

precious particles

dust

butterfly pollen

colorful butterfly dust, the dust from the butterfly wings, I want to say, here we go.

Darling! people now prefer to write in someone’s presence, they would almost never write in messenger what they want to say, but wait until the addressee appears there, and then, in co-authorship with this [other] specter, write; writing is half-oral so to say, as in this conversation the messenger functions like a phone. the first time in history writing is done like this. imagine Plato’s dialogs now.                                                  you could love me, huh?                                               no, that                                                   won’t do. memorize my words like you would memorize my body fingertips verbatim I want them to come to you at night in a female drone, soft whisper, swaying cadence form to memorize your body to dress into your voice I sometimes wish I existed in several copies. clones, but each in full possession of the whole sum of my experiences. contemporaneous clones. I do not have a solution for a row of philosophical problems arising in connection to such disposition though. it is unclear if they all should contribute to my experiences as well, since they have mine. nor do I know if I would know equally well what they learn; would I have access a sensorial archive of their impressions, would I store in my memory what they thought or saw? an alternative situation also awaits a resolution: if they and I share no common access to what they are becoming acquainted with in real time–all these multiplicities of emotion, memory, sensation, and thought–then gradually they become less and less like me and more and more like themselves, and the longer they function on their own, the more so; a clone bifurcating from me yesterday won’t have much in common with the copy produced ten years ago, therefore making the whole clone idea a joke, but. regardless of how these issues would be resolved in different models, I’d like none of my clones to omit kissing you at some points of their life. I don’t know how they all could manage that, I guess the difficulty of the task grows exponentially with their numbers, and although I can’t see you rejecting any of them, to arrange it all would take calculating powers currently exceeding the ones that the mankind amassed on this planet, and thus remains an office of the pure providence.                                                                    beauty tips: eat only flowers. hissing of a belt leaving its place I thought about you but did not think, rather, I recalled, or, I forgot, it was a series of not recollections but of forgettings because remembering is a mode from which I slipped into forgetting for a second only to re-awake the next moment, to regain the awareness–the balance on a rope–of my new state, the state of your unfading presence, and, oddly enough,I recollected you from the state of never forgetting about you, that is to say, I flared to recalling you, I flashed into remembering,                                              phantom of media it really is quite something you do with that language of yours. “Artemis” and “diminished” in one breath, as well as “oracle” and “future.” your Os and As are distributed so well. every your sheet is like a chessboard.*  she masturbated with                         a handle of the knife and the knife,                           a duckling, a red rose, a white rose,                      a pink rose, an ice cream scoop, a salad spoon, I wanted to rewrite those pages from Gargantua and Pantagruel where Rableis lists things with which one of his heroes (I can’t remember who) wipes his ass I think                      a feather               what else     was in there, it was a wonderful (and shocking) list, a list one could borrow from amply. but I get bored with literary work. maybe tomorrow. it’d be awesome if I wrote it though, I really hope I do one day. unanswered missives do have power over their senders, mmhm  now that I glance at the music I listened to yesterday, I feel a nausea rising its cobra head to my throat up via my esophagus. I was drunk. expendable and disposable worlds. overabundant imagery. the photograph should not illustrate (and they do not do so anyway) but rather disrupt. a quick Americana of the bizarre and the annoying.  he won’t understand my tender, thin, easily-bruised soul                                                           (easily-                                                             bruised,                                                            crème                                                             brûlée) (I don’t know myself when I am sarcastic and when, not, nor shall I, of course,                                                    care.)                               it looks like staircase                                 staircase tiled with oysters                              and murals of genitals I know a rain girl who is visiting slow Moscow theaters and lives in a room with plants that she remembers from school; she spends her free time creating –I like her pale selfies–vaginas out of papier-mâché, clay, modelling plastic and soft materials like that–she put a lamp in one of them, and of course she painted teeth for another, aquarelle    but mainly –what? a poetess of course. Lubov Makarevskaya; I shall see if I can translate ___________________________________________ *I am addressing here briefly Eleanor Gray and her Untitled poem starting with green forest of great Pan’s