#yes I did know Hank Green has cancer

[sunriserose1023]

Merry & Married {3}

SUMMARY: It’s been almost a year since the most humiliating moment of your life. You’ve done your best to move on—by literally moving across the country, starting a new job, and you’re finally starting to feel settled. That, of course, is when your bubblehead cousin sends you the invitation to her wedding—which is exactly one year to the day that you were left at the altar. You have to go, but you don’t have to go alone. Enter Bucky Barnes, the best friend you’ve ever had. You fill him in, and of course he agrees to go home with you. What are friends for? Never mind the fact that he’s desperately in love with you. And if you hadn’t sworn off men forever, you might just find him … attractive. So there you are, surrounded by love, bridesmaid dresses, champagne, and no less than one hundred sprigs of mistletoe. What could possibly go wrong? WORD COUNT: 1686 WARNINGS FOR THE SERIES: Emotional angst, presumably unrequited love, friends to lovers, fluff, happily ever after, written for the @heamarvel​​ Holiday Movie Challenge

Masterlist

“Fuck, New Orleans is bright.”

You giggled to yourself as Natasha frantically slid her sunglasses on. Beside you, Bucky made a face as he shrugged out of his coat and you nodded. 

“And humid. I don’t even want to think of how my hair’s going to look.”

Natasha shook her head.

“Home sweet home, right, Y/N?”

You nodded, swallowing hard as Bucky laid a hand on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and lifted a hand, gripping his for just a moment before you sighed. Natasha stood beside her suitcase, scrolling through her phone and you turned to look up at Bucky, a soft smile coming over your face when he smirked down at you, sunglasses hiding his blue eyes. 

“What?” “Nat, did you call a car?” “Yep. Should be pulling up any minute now.”

You broke the staring contest you were having with Bucky to smile over at her. 

“Think we can change the travel plans?”

Bucky groaned, shaking his head as he took another bite. You laughed at the powdered sugar in his beard and covering the front of his shirt. Natasha rolled her eyes, sitting back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. 

“It’s just fried dough.” “No, it’s a delicacy.”

You laughed again, at the words muffled by the bite in Bucky’s mouth. He looked to you, leaning in closer. 

“What’s it called again?” “A beignet.”

Natasha blew out a breath. 

“Yes, we are the quintessential New Orleans tourists, having beignets at Cafe Du Monde.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Natasha. 

“Don’t be such a Grinch, Romanoff.”

You laughed as her green eyes narrowed, and you shook your head, sliding the plate away before Bucky was wearing more powdered sugar than he already was. You nodded to him. 

“Have you dunked it in the coffee yet?”

He nodded. 

“Thank God your cousin’s wedding isn’t here. I’d gain—“ “Diabetes.”

You laughed at Natasha’s knowing comment, as she picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. Bucky shook his head, taking another bite, passing the rest of the pastry towards you. You smiled and picked it up, dipping it in the pile of powdered sugar on the plate before taking a bite. You giggled when powdered sugar went all over your face and shirt, but you made no move to wipe it away when you saw the grin on Bucky’s face. He nodded to Natasha. 

“Take our picture.” “Oh, Buck—“ “You’re gorgeous, hush.”

You felt your cheeks warm as Natasha smiled, lifting her phone and snapping a pic of you and Bucky, powdered sugar all over your faces and clothes, lips curled in cheesy grins. 

The town you grew up in was about a three-hour drive from New Orleans. Natasha had ordered a car to take the three of you to the lake house, and you stared out the window as you drove over the long bridge out of New Orleans. Bucky sat across from you, Natasha beside you, both of them watching you. Natasha widened her eyes at Bucky and he gave a nod before he leaned forward. 

“Hey.”

You turned to face him and he smiled at you. 

“Tell me about the fam.”

Natasha gave a quiet laugh. 

“There’s a can of worms you don’t know you’re not ready to open.”

You smiled at her. 

“It’s too late. He’s already on the way to them.”

Natasha sighed, shaking her head. You smiled as you looked back to Bucky. 

“Well, the first person I’ll seek out is my mom.” “Don’t worry; you’ll love her. You’ve already met her, because she’s Y/N, just older.”

You rolled your eyes as Natasha smiled, then nodded. 

“Then we’ll have to find Nana.”

You looked to Bucky and grinned. 

“You’ll love Nana.”

Natasha vehemently nodded, leaning forward. 

“She’s as tall as I am—“ “Which isn’t saying much.”

You dodged the elbow Natasha tried to hit you with and you giggled. She rolled her eyes, then continued. 

“She’s also the one who taught me to take no shit.”

Bucky pursed his lips as he nodded. 

“Oh, good. A pre-Natasha Natasha.”

You nodded your head. 

“Everyone says Nat acts just like Nana did back in the day. But Nana can still hold her own.”

Bucky nodded and Natasha fluffed her hair as she spoke. 

“Nana and Papa had five daughters. Hence the reason our family is so big. I’ll take some, then Y/N can take over. First there’s Aunt Janet and Uncle Hank. They have Hope, who’s married to Scott Lang. Scott has a daughter named Cassie from a previous marriage, and Hope’s pregnant right now. They also have Carol.”

Bucky nodded. 

“Is she married?”

You and Natasha exchanged a glance. You shook your head as Natasha spoke out loud. 

“No, she’s a lesbian.”

Bucky flicked his eyes to you, and you lifted a shoulder and an eyebrow at the same time, almost like you were daring him to say something. He smiled back at you and you rolled your eyes, smiling as you looked to Natasha. 

“Do you think she’s bringing a plus one?” “Uh, it’s Carol. I’ll almost guarantee it.”

You looked back to Bucky. 

“Carol’s a bit of a … how can I put this politely?”

Natasha snorted. 

“Carol’s a hoe.”

Bucky barked out a laugh and you shook your head. 

“I love her to death, but she’s had more girlfriends than any sane person should have.” “She’s very intelligent, but has the worst taste in women.”

You nodded at Natasha, making a face. 

“Remember Sharon?”

Natasha groaned. 

“She was the human equivalent of watching paint dry. But she was better than Jessica.”

You widened your eyes and nodded your head. 

“Jessica was batshit insane.” “Bobbi was normal.” “Now, I liked Bobbi.” “But ever since …”

Natasha let her sentence trail off and you sighed as you looked to Bucky. 

“Carol was in the Air Force. She met Maria and they fell in love. They were in a terrible plane crash and Carol even had amnesia for a while. I thought that was just a plot point for soap operas, but it’s real.” “And it’s awful.”

You nodded. 

“When she finally did get her memories back, we had to tell her that Maria died and it … god, it was horrible.”

Bucky shook his head and you met his eyes again. 

“We love Carol. We’ve been through a lot with her, and we’re kind of protective.”

Bucky smiled and nodded. Natasha let out a breath, then picked her story back up. 

“Then there’s my mom. Good luck with her.”

You giggled. 

“I love Aunt Nadia. She’s such a bad bitch.”

Natasha nodded, and you leaned forward. 

“And Uncle Phil is the greatest.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and you laughed. 

“He’s the polar opposite of Nat and Aunt Nadia, but it just works somehow.”

Natasha shook her head, turning back to Bucky. 

“Then there’s Y/N’s mom. The light of her world and all that.”

You elbowed Natasha before she could dodge it and she laughed as you took over the story. 

“Next is Aunt May, who’s Darcy’s mom. She also has Peter. Uncle Ben had a little brother, Peter’s dad, and when Peter’s parents died, Ben and May adopted Peter.”

Natasha glanced down and you sighed as you looked at your hands in your lap. 

“Uncle Ben died a few years ago. Cancer.” “God, I’m sorry.”

Bucky reached over to take your hand, and you smiled as you laced your fingers through his. You glanced through the window, then back to Bucky. 

“The baby of the family is Aunt Pepper. Her real name’s Virginia, and I honestly have no clue where the nickname Pepper came from.” “Mom said it’s because she was spicy as a kid.” “But Aunt May told me that once Pepper discovered the spice pepper, she ate a ton of it on all her food. And one day Papa said ‘that's enough pepper,’ and I think my mom thought he meant Pepper as a nickname and not the spice. Then they all started calling her Pepper after that.”

You and Natasha shrugged as you exchanged a look, and you turned back to Bucky. 

“Pepper’s married to Tony and they have little Morgan.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and you smiled. 

“Pepper was sort of an unplanned surprise in the family, so she’s closer to our age than our moms’. Aunt May’s ten years older than her. And Pep and Tony had some issues getting pregnant, but they finally had Morgan.”

Bucky nodded, blowing out a breath. 

“That’s a lot.” “Oh, just wait until they’re all in the same room.”

You nodded at Natasha’s statement and Bucky leaned back in his seat. You smiled, kicking your foot out, your toes barely brushing his leg. He smiled when he looked to you and you smiled at him. Natasha slid over to the window, pulling her phone out and acting interested in it. Bucky leaned forward as you did and you let out a breath. 

“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?”

You sighed. 

“I don’t know. I’m nervous. I haven’t seen most of them since my wedding.” “Well, just from what you told me, it’s clear there’s a lot of love here.”

You nodded. 

“I’m just being stupid.” “You’re not stupid.”

You sighed, lifting your eyes to meet his. He took hold of your hands, giving you a soft smile. 

“If at any time you need a break or an escape or whatever, just look at me. I’ll get you out of there.” “But—“ “No buts. I don’t need to know the story, Y/N. If you need a minute to catch your breath, I’ll sneak you outside. No worries.”

You shook your head, a soft smile on your lips. 

“You’re too good to me, Bucky.”

He shook his head, staring at the top of yours when you glanced down at the hands he was still holding. 

“Well, what are friends for?”

The words tasted vile in his mouth, but the way you looked up and met his eyes, that soft smile on your lips almost made it worth it. 

Almost. 

TAGS: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​, @walkingchemicalfire​​, @eileenalone​​, @mrsalh32611​​, @alexxcorona113​​, @ivoryhazlewood​​, @chaoticfanatic​​, @rhapsody-in-flannel​​, @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​​, @captainchrisstan​​, @ninaminaromina​​, @geeksareunique​​, @allsortsofinterests​​, @nerdy-bookworm-1998​​, @misplacedorphan​​, @chrisevansgirl​​, @whimsicalatbest​​, @buckybarneshairpullingkink​​, @isaxhorror​​, @redhairedfeistynerd​, @n3rdybird​, @the-ss-acklestan​, @moonlessnight14​, @geeksareunique​

[spockuhurashipper]

“A Risk Worth Taking” - Chapter 3 - Voight/OC

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

The next day, Layla got to the precinct early. She wasn’t sure how long it would take her to resolve Kim’s computer issues and she wanted to leave plenty of time to finish the software updates for the rest of the unit.

When she walked in, the desk sergeant she had met the previous day was on duty.

“Layla, right?” Trudy Platt asked, looking up from her computer screen. Layla nodded and was about to explain what she needed when Platt got an excited look in her eye and leaned forward, her elbows propped on the counter.

“Hey, was that you’re car I saw in the lot yesterday with all of the band decals on the back?” Layla, unsure where this was going, responded with “yes?”

“Okay, I don’t know you but I’m pretty sure you are the coolest person in this precinct today. I mean, you’ve got Clapton, B.B. King, The Stones… just to name a few!” Platt said impressed.

Layla laughed at her assessment. “Yeah well, my dad raised me on the greats. We used to hunt for old records together on the weekends. I’m actually named after the Clapton song.”

Platt’s eyes got huge. “That. Is. Awesome.”

The two talked for a few minutes about music while officers passed by and phones rang in the background. It was so busy that Layla didn’t realize Voight had walked up beside her until Platt said, “Hey Hank, have you met Layla? She has the greatest taste in music.”

Layla turned to look at Hank. She had been a little apprehensive about seeing him again, embarrassed about crying in front of him the night before, but he just smiled and said,

“Yeah, we met. I can buzz you up if you’re ready to get started?”

Platt looked crestfallen that her gabfest was being cut short so Layla said, “Sergeant Platt...”

“Please call me Trudy,” Platt interrupted.

“Trudy, once I get settled in my apartment, I’d love to have you over to listen to records. I’ve got some rare ones.”

Platt smiled and pointed at Layla, “You’re on!”

Layla smiled, happy to have made another friend, and started walking to the stairs with Hank. The lobby was so crowded, that he put his hand on the small of Layla’s back to guide her towards the stairs. She couldn’t deny that his touch gave her a flutter of excitement.

“Really Layla?” she thought to herself, “He’s much older than you and probably happily married. The age thing isn’t that big a deal, but the married part is for sure!”

Once they got upstairs, Hank flipped the light switch and the fluorescent bulbs overhead buzzed to life. As they walked, the tap-tap-tap of Layla’s heels echoed through the room.

“I met one of your team members last night…”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, motioning for her to follow him to the break room.

“Yeah, Kim Burgess.” Layla stood in the break room doorway as Hank started up the coffee maker.

He turned around once the coffee maker started it’s drip and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. Layla couldn’t help but notice how attracted to him she was. He had a long-sleeve green shirt tucked into dark wash jeans, his gun on his hip and badge on his belt - body language relaxed.

“You’re welcome to come in and sit down?” Hank gestured, smirking at her still standing in the doorway. “As long as our computers work when we need them, I don’t care how long you’re here today. I’ll reach out to Jerry if he bitches.”

Jerry Blackman was Layla’s boss. He was a decent guy, just seemed a little desperate. Hank noticed a change in her expression at the mention of her boss. “Everything okay?”

Layla sat her bag down and took a seat at the table. 

“Jerry’s an okay boss. He just…” Layla didn’t want to start anything, but the way Hank looked at her made her continue. “He must be great at interrogations,” Layla thought.

“He’s asked me out three times. I don’t know how many more ways to say no before it becomes an issue.”

Hank looked down at the floor and pressed his lips together in aggravation. He’d worked with Jerry years ago back when the cyber crimes unit was just forming. The gang unit and cyber crimes had to work together on a big case. Jerry had come on to one of Hank’s informants and almost cost them the case.

“You let me know if he becomes an issue, okay?” He didn’t elaborate on how he would handle the situation and Layla got the impression she shouldn’t ask.

Hank watched as Layla nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. As he’d noticed the night before, she was beautiful. But what he liked most about her was the way she carried herself. She had a confidence about her that made him want to get to know her.

It’d been a long time since he’d even cared to get to know a woman outside of work. No one really caught his attention. Layla did.

The coffee maker hissed as the last drops of coffee filled the carafe and Hank turned to pour a cup. He fixed Layla a cup too and sat down across from her at the small break room table.

“So, tell me about yourself Hank? Are you married?” Layla asked, bringing the cup to her lips and taking a sip.

Hank leaned back in his chair, one hand wrapped around his mug and the other propped on the back of his chair.

“I was. My wife died of ovarian cancer nine years ago.”

It wasn’t usually something he shared with people he just met, but after last night, Hank knew she would understand. She didn’t do what everyone else did, which was immediately apologize for asking and quickly try to change the subject without looking him in the eyes.

Instead, she just looked into his eyes and nodded slowly, a silent understanding between them.

They sipped their coffee for a minute.

“So how did you meet Burgess?” Hank asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“Oh, at my brother-in-law’s bar… Molly’s?” Layla finished the sentence as a question, asking Hank of he knew the place.

Hank’s eyes brightened with recognition.“Hermann. So your Cindy’s sister?”

Layla nodded, confused when Hank suddenly looked at the table, obviously lost in his thoughts.

“Herrmann’s a good man. I’m sure he doesn’t feel the same about me. But I respect him.”

Again, Layla felt like she was missing something.

“Actually,” she looked up, a cautious look in her eyes, “he told me to stay away from you.”

Hank cleared his throat and said, “I don’t blame him for saying that.”

Having lost everyone he cared about though, Hank thought, was punishment enough for his sins. More than he could stand. He wanted to get to know Layla and possibly have a friend again... maybe more.

Hank rested his forearms on the table and leaned in, “But I hope you don’t take his advice.”

At first, Layla wasn’t sure how to take his meaning but when she met his eyes, she saw an intensity there that gave her a wave of pleasure. He was flirting with her.

Layla smiled at the realization and leaned in, mirroring his posture. 

“Like I said yesterday, I don’t usually listen to others.”

Hank let out a gruff laugh of satisfaction and Layla blushed. Seeing the color rise on her cheeks, and knowing he’d caused it, gave Hank a kind of high he hadn’t felt in years.

They both jumped a little when they heard the cage open at the top of the stairs. It was Kim. Layla stood and rinsed out her mug in the sink, then swung her laptop bag onto her shoulder. Turning back to Hank she started to say something, but instead just smiled, flustered.

Hank watched as she turned and walked over to Kim, the two girls hugging before Kim started telling Layla about her computer issues.

Hank watched her for a moment longer before rinsing out his own mug and heading to his office. He felt an excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time. But he also had a job to do. Closing his door, he started reviewing the case file with fresh eyes and waited for the rest of his team to arrive.

[penniesforthestorm]

On ‘Twin Peaks’, Part 2

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“It Is Happening Again...”

NOTICE: Welcome to Part 2 of my Twin Peaks appreciation! Again, I have tried to avoid concrete spoilers, but if you’re new to the series, the less you know going in, the better. For other fans, welcome.

Over Memorial Day weekend of 2017, it happened. Defying massive skepticism, the unavailability of certain key cast members, and twenty-five years of theories and criticism, David Lynch premiered some of his most confounding and formally audacious work to date, less a season of TV than an eighteen-hour film. It's difficult to know where to start when talking about The Return, because its narrative strands cross and loop and converge in baffling ways. The original series had a relatively straight time-structure—even Fire Walk With Me fits fairly neatly into the scheme of things. The Return discards all that, taking us from a starless void navigated by a woman with sewn-shut eyes, to Las Vegas and New York, to the Trinity nuclear test.

At times, it seemed like Lynch was waving a giant middle finger at our collective nostalgia. You want Dale Cooper? Here's 'Mr. C.' (McLachlan), the man who emerged from the Black Lodge a quarter-century ago, a snake-eyed, soft-spoken, pitiless crook. Here's 'Dougie Jones' (McLachlan again), a pleasant-enough sort who is nonetheless cheating on his wife with a sex worker. And here, finally, is anti-Cooper (also McLachlan)—dressed in the familiar black suit, with that swoop of dark hair now shot through with silver, utterly unable to navigate the world around him, repeating whatever is said to him in a dreamlike, stilted monotone.

Then again, there were callbacks to the original series that felt like blessings. Deputy 'Hawk' Hill (Michael Horse), gentle as always, talking late into the night with Margaret Lanterman, a.k.a. the Log Lady (Catherine Coulson). Her face and voice ravaged by illness, she seemed desperate to impart her final oracles to a sympathetic ear. (Coulson was in fact suffering from cancer at the time, and succumbed shortly after her scenes were filmed). There was the radiant Shelley Briggs (née Johnson) at the Roadhouse with her girlfriends, defending the lovelorn James Hurley. And best of all, on the primary case, we got ebullient FBI director Gordon Cole (David Lynch) and the curmudgeonly Albert Rosenfield (Miguel Ferrer), cracking wise but full of almost brotherly concern for one another.

Even more pointedly than the original series, The Return grounded its nightmare vision in the quotidian world. A house in a subdivision occupied by a strung-out young woman yelling the same three digits with incantatory force. Another sad-eyed blonde (Amanda Seyfried) in a turbulent relationship with an abusive, sniveling meth-head (Caleb Landry Jones). The handsome, menacing Richard (Eamon Farren), summoning an underage girl to his table at the Roadhouse and then nearly choking her just for kicks. (That scene in particular gave me chills—I've been in situations like that, where it all seems like a joke until it suddenly, clearly isn't.) In the original series, the rot was concealed under a façade of small-town hygge; in The Return, there is no façade left.

The most exciting kind of show, for me, is one where absolutely anything could happen (frequently, these have been 'genre' shows: Hannibal, Vikings, the UK series Misfits). Going into each episode of The Return, while I certainly had predictions, I never felt like I knew how this hour would unfold. This is a world where the camera lingers for two minutes on a man sweeping sawdust, as "Green Onions" plays in the background. A girl home from a first date sits up in her bedroom, listening to "My Prayer" by The Platters, only to have the broadcast interrupted by a dreadful, sonorous voice speaking a mysterious litany that puts everyone who hears it into a deep sleep. Cars drive down two-lane highways in the darkness, with no signposts and no landmarks. The stage at the Roadhouse is occupied by acts ranging from "The" Nine Inch Nails, to boys with pompadours who sing like Hank Williams formed a trio with the Everlys.

You'll notice, if you're still with me (you trooper, you), that I have not yet mentioned Audrey Horne. In some ways, among the show's die-hard fans, Audrey's mythos loomed even larger than Laura's. Audrey, the brunette in saddle shoes and sweater sets, who shared a lineage with sirens like Lauren Bacall and Rosalind Russell—spunky dames who didn't take any guff, but would melt for the right man. Audrey, last seen chained to a bank vault, shortly before a bomb went off. Yes, I loved her, and was desperate for any hint of her fate. Without venturing any further into spoiler territory than I have already, let me just say I still am.

Yes, sometimes, The Return is downright frustrating. I was along for the ride, but there were a few moments when I considered getting out of the car and, at the very least, taking a breather. But, as with most things, my patience would be rewarded. I wouldn't trade the shenanigans of the Mitcham brothers (plus Candie, the vaguely extraterrestrial showgirl), or the thrill of the twofold reveal of Laura Dern's character, or the fiercely maternal protectiveness of Janey-E Jones (Naomi Watts) for anything. Carl Rodd (Harry Dean Stanton) plaintively singing "Red River Valley" in his relocated trailer court… Albert finding a kindred spirit in a sardonic small-town medical examiner (Jane Addams)… The adorable British lad, Freddie Sykes (Jake Wardle), who becomes a kind of Sir Gawain of the Green Gardening Glove… all these things, and many more, kept winning me back.

Of all the filmmakers working today, Lynch has performed some of the most radical tests of the potential of film as a vehicle for storytelling. Visually, yes, with those vibrant reds and blues, the rich earth tones, and the stark black-and-white of Episode 8. Aurally, with Angelo Badalamenti’s otherworldly music. And perhaps most importantly, psychologically—using our common cultural knowledge and our love of film itself to deepen the context of what we’re seeing. (For an irreverent example, see Albert grumbling, “Fuck you, Gene Kelly!” as he makes his way through a freezing downpour.)

And Laura? Well, as the Log Lady so poignantly put it, "Laura is the one." In the end, it all came back to her. In thinking about her character over the course of my acquaintance with the show, I'm reminded of another doomed beauty: Miranda in Picnic at Hanging Rock, who likewise disappears into a realm beyond ours. Like Laura, Miranda seems somehow aware of her fate—indeed, one interpretation that could apply to both girls is that they offered themselves as a sacrifice to the darkness. But that doesn't make their demise any easier to comprehend. Seeing Sheryl Lee let loose her bone-rattling scream for one last time, on the street in front of the house that was, and was not, the Palmer's, hearing the echo of Sarah Palmer call her daughter's name across years and dimensions… I mean, a few minutes later, I was leaning against my kitchen cabinets, sobbing. We were left with so many questions. Can you ever really know a person? How do you save someone who doesn't believe they're worth saving?

Oh, and what *was* Jerry Horne smoking?

Did Nadine really mean what she said this time?

Just how did that danged fish get in the percolator?