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Joanna Beth Harvelle ([info]reoismyantidrug) wrote in [info]entrywaythreads,
@ 2021-02-12 22:10:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:bucky barnes, jo harvelle

Kind of Like Home

Jo Harvelle
Bucky Barnes
WHERE
The Last Round
WHEN
2.12.21
8:30 pm
STATUS
PG
Open to Multiples
WARNINGS
TBD
Checking out the local hole in the wall
The more she noted, the more like home it felt.
To be quite honest, Jo had shown up in this place with very little desire to check things out in the beginning. As far as she was concerned, it was better to just lay low and get her head on straight before she ever made her way through the insanity that was bound to be Purgatory.

Her first venture around the place was when Michael was named Mayor of the joint. That alone was probably a sign that things were not going to be running smoothly around here. She'd gone, she'd seen, she drank, she was surprisingly amused... and then she'd gone back to her rinky-dink apartment and settled back into the quietness of being alone once again.

Tonight, however, two days before what she knew to be Valentine's day, Jo was feeling cooped up and stir crazy, dying for human interaction even if she didn't necessarily have to interact with them to accomplish it. It was those feelings that led the hunter to The Last Round, a bar that looked more like her scene than the others she'd seen around the place and reminded her somewhat of the Roadhouse. It was really the nostalgia it inspired within her that had her deciding that this was the place.

Making her way in, she took a good look around and then settled herself on a stool at the bar. An order of a beer and a shot of chilled whiskey was made before she turned and took in the rest of the atmosphere. The more she noted, the more like home it felt. She could see herself being here fairly often, perhaps even working here if they were willing to give her the job. It'd be a good trade-off, she thought.

Once her drinks were set in front of her, she took the shot first — liquor before beer, in the clear — and then took a slow drag of her beer. Jo didn't know what the night would bring, but it couldn't be all bad, could it? After all, she was in Purgatory... was she really in any kind of real danger? She supposed she'd find out for certain if a fight broke out, but until then, she'd just sit back and take it all in.
©


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[info]reoismyantidrug
2021-04-02 09:01 pm UTC (link)
Jo was familiar with that expression. It was the same one that she'd seen in her mother's eyes on occasion. The same one she'd seen on the Winchesters' faces. On other hunters. In the reflection of the mirror. Oh yes, that facial expression was so familiar to her that it almost ached to see it on some stranger.

Downing the rest of her own drink, she ordered a second for herself and one for her "new friend", then turned to look at the other patrons in this place.

It was always weird at first, talking monsters with someone who was new to the life. Or thought that a person might just be telling tales. She'd seen plenty of hunters have "the talk" with newbies. So this was just par for the course, she supposed.

"A Rawhead," she started, "is a demon. It looks like a human but the skin is... it's all wrinkled and sagging and doesn't fit really well. Almost like it was pulled on as a half-thought and it's leathery as hell. It has claws on its hands and feet and it likes to hide in basements."

Thinking of her own run-ins with them had her grimacing. "They aren't easy to kill. The only thing that really does it is high voltage. It's strong and it's fast... and it preys on kids." She found her new beer by her hand as she finished and seemed to punctuate her sentence with a swig of it.

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[info]freezerburn
2021-04-05 06:43 am UTC (link)
"Mm." Bucky tapped his metal hand against his palm, suddenly sorry he'd skipped out on the glove. It made a dull clicking noise, and it wasn't exactly Bucky's favorite noise. "Monsters are bad. Monsters that eat children are worse."

He wrinkled up his own nose. "I could probably help you if any of those show up here." What the hell did Bucky know? They might. Except for the arm, Bucky was more or less immune to electricity; it might fry the arm or send it into a reset, but Bucky was pretty sure with Shuri having constructed the arm for him, it would be flawless. The kid had talents, a lot of them. But Bucky's own body handled electricity with shockingly (no pun intended) little reaction.

Plus, he'd be willing to bet a Wakandan prosthetic had its upsides in a monster fight.

"The worst monsters," he said, reaching for the fresh glass of rotgut he'd been handed, "are the ones that look like humans." He thought of Pierce, of that sharp blue gaze and the body that had aged faster than Bucky had thought possible when he'd been able to remember anything at all.

He thought of Zola. And his face tightened into the rictus mask, a smile that was false and so painfully obvious in what it lacked. He hated that man. And worse, he hated that he'd been unable to kill him.

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