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raisingsupergirl · 1 year

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Another Over-Simplified 2022 Retrospective

You know how it’s hard to start working out again when you’ve been lazy for a while? Yeah well, apparently when I said I was going to take a few months off from blogging, I underestimated how hard it would be to start back up because three months became an entire year. A year of so much awesomeness left completely undocumented… Oh, the humanity! How could I have let such a thing happen? Well, I guess I was too busy living to write any of it down. But it’s a new year, new me, as they say. And I’m back. I’m not sure how frequently yet, but I’ll post at least every month so something like this doesn’t happen again. And in an attempt to salvage my mistake, I’m going to cram my entire 2022 into this one post. So grab a snack, sit back, and enjoy my year in review.

For me, 2022 was a year focused on the future. With the trainwreck that was 2020 (and the cringe-worthy sequel the following year), my family was more than happy to wipe the slate clean and look to the horizon. And with a new home, new schools, new hobbies, and new goals came new challenges. But for the most part, they were exciting challenges. When we first moved into our house, I saw it as a blank slate of sorts. And since then, I cleared acres of trees, brush, and soooo much poison ivy from my fence rows and creeks. I planted apple trees, peach trees, plum trees, blackberry bushes, blueberry bushes, and more. I had ground leveled, rocks removed, and septic systems fixed. I repaired storm damage and cleaned up piles junk left by the previous owners. I (with the help of a gracious family friend) built an office out in my shop at the beginning of the year, and at the end of the year we started working on a bar with plenty of potential for gatherings of family and friends for years to come. It’s been countless hours of hard work and sweat, but man, it’s totally been worth it.

And speaking of family and friends, you didn’t think 2022 was all work with no play, did you? Sure, I may be a bit of a work-a-holic, but even I know the real secret to happiness is spending time with those you love. And I spent the majority of my rest and relaxation with the three people I love most on this planet—my wife and two daughters. We built snowmen in January, hunted Easter eggs in April, explored creeks in May, had soooo many Sunday fundays through the summer (which are hands-down my favorite memories of this past year), trick-r-treated in October, and played indoor games when the weather turned south for the winter. I had a few date nights with my wife (not nearly enough) and even one with my daughters (our daddy-daughter dance might be my second favorite 2022 memory). The kiddos kept up with their familiar sports of soccer and softball and even picked up a couple new ones (my eight-year-old started jiu jitsu and my five-year-old started gymnastics), and they only injured each other a couple of times “practicing.”

Of course, our furry family members are worth mentioning, too. Luna loved playing in the snow, exploring the creek, and hunting rabbits. Fancy loved tearing up toilet paper and looking ridiculously cute. We even nearly gained a stray cat, but it hid on top of my wife’s van engine when she picked up the kids from school, and one of the kind ladies there took it home (phew!). Other than that, we added a beta fish named Yondu, found a few wild surrogate kiddos around the property, and rumor has it that the Winches might be adding another fur baby in 2023…

But the fun didn’t stop with just my immediate family. Since we finally lived somewhere that could fit more than a few people at a time, we had plenty of friends and extended family over to join in on the shenanigans. We had an Easter dinner, a sushi party, a pool party birthday, and I hosted the first annual Indeportence Day with a few of my guy friends (it’s a super-exclusive event that celebrates the awesomeness of ‘Merica, and I’m sure I’ll talk more about it at some point).

And at the center of most of those gatherings was food. So much food. And most of it was made possible by two very important purchases. First, my amazing wife bought me a Blackstone griddle for my birthday, and at the end of summer I bought a pellet grill on clearance. And let me tell you, I cooked ALL the things with those two wonderful gadgets. On the griddle I cooked a zillion different stir-frys, seafoods, burgers, breakfast spreads, steaks, and other succulent meats (including a random go at sloppy joes, which turned out great). And on the pellet grill I smoked tons of veggies, briskets, pork butts (pulled pork goes wonderfully on nachos btw) and other pork cuts (steaks, chops, ribs), all the chicken parts, more steaks (you can never have too many steaks), and some mac-n-cheese. Heck, I even smoked chili, which might be the best way I’ve ever made it. But of course, not everything can be made on the Blackstone and the Pit Boss (contrary to the claims on their respective Facebook groups). So I did take the time to make some yummy pastas and soups and whatnot the old-fashioned way. Most of it was fairly well received, and now I’m forced to commit to a New Year’s diet…

As you know, food isn’t the only delicious treat that can take a gathering to the next level. For those who choose to imbibe, adult beverages are another surefire way to make a few memories. And since most of my 2022 gatherings took place at my home, it only made sense to make my booze at home, too. So I expanded my quarantine hobby to epic proportions (I mean, what’s the point of building a bar if I don’t have anything to serve?), cooking up dozens of batches of IPAs, stouts, shandies, amber ales, meads, and spirits, to name a few. And again, most of them went down smooth and kept my guests coming back for more.

By now you’re probably thinking, “Did he even leave his house in 2022?” Well, I tried not to, but I did venture out occasionally. Among my more notable excursions were going to the STL Cardinals opening day (seeing Pujols and Molina kick off their last season was something I’ll never forget. Nor was watching my two friends win over $1,000 at the craps table beforehand) going to the Lemp Brewery haunted house (it was seriously creepy knowing the history of that place beforehand), taking a week-long vacation with my beautiful wife to the Dominican Republic, and going to a handful of local festivals (Country Days and the Bloomsdale Fun Farm were the most memorable).

Of course, not all of 2022 was sunshine and pool parties. We lost some dear family members and close friends. Gas prices soared and temperatures plummeted. At times I cried, I shouted, and I wanted to give up. But as I write this, those aren’t the things that stand out in my mind. No, in retrospect, my 2022 was a great year. One that a single blog post can’t possibly do justice. I left out a lot, including some great memories relating to my “day” job and my writing, as well as a lot of little details that I wish I could cement in the annals of Raising Super Girl. But as I said, I’m going to do better. I’m going to take more time to unpack my adventures, my challenges, and my thoughts. As always, it’s mostly for myself and my family, but I do sincerely appreciate those of you who choose to come along with me. After all, what’s the point of all of this if it can’t be shared? Happy New Year, friends. I can’t wait to document whatever 2023 has in store.

#year in review #2022 recap #2022 retrospective #2022 reflection #blackstone #pit boss #foodie #grilling #family #friends #homebrewing #home brewing #hard rock Punta cana #dominican republic #fur babies

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written-on-the-trees · 3 years

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Chris Motionless Fan Fiction - Darling I’m A Nightmare Dressed Like A...Nightmare

The Trees’ October 2020 Writing Challenge Day 23/31

Prompt: Nightmare

Word-count: 1250 words

Content Warnings: none

Summary: Chris might be a demon that feeds off of human nightmares...but he's known Kitty since she was the day she was brought back from the hospital, and no-one is going to hurt that precious child. If anyone does...then Chris will feast on their fear, even if it kills them. Especially if it kills them

A/N: I forgot to post this back in October - whoops.

Being a mahr was relatively easy, when it came to being a demon.

Unlike other demons, mahr didn’t have to wait to be summoned to feed off of human’s souls: all they had to do was wait until a human fell asleep, and then they could slip into their dreams and turn them into nightmares: feeding off of the sleeping human’s unconscious terror. Most humans didn’t even remember their nightmares, and even if they did, they usually brushed them off as nothing, meaning mahr didn’t have to deal with discovery and the subsequent exorcism that some of their brethren faced.

If they were careful, they could feed off of the same few humans for years - even decades - and only had to move on when they were bored.

Chris was very, very careful.

He also didn’t bore easily.

As a result, he’d been feeding off the dame bloodline for generations. He’d started with the great-grandfather almost a hundred years ago, when he was just a boy. He’d followed him when he’d moved house to start a family of his own, and stayed feeding off of the humans in that house until just three years ago, when he favourite of the living humans, the oldest daughter, moved out to go to university. Her fear was delicious, so he’d had no trouble deciding to follow her across the country…but recently he’d come to regret that decision.

It was no fault of the girl’s own.

Kitty was a lovely young woman, and Chris didn’t blame her for her decisions…but that didn’t stop him from being angry about them. Because of her choice of a partner, her fear had started tasting bitter and acrid, and she was sleeping less and less.

It was very much disrupting Chris’s diet - and he was not happy about it.

He was also unhappy about the way Kitty’s usually sweet and open demeanor was being turned into something scared and withdrawn: hence why he was now knocking on the door of her apartment, dressed in a human glamour, waiting to introduce himself as her new neighbour. He had a plan to stop the waste of life Kitty called a boyfriend - and all he needed to kick it off was an introduction to the unpleasant mortal.

Of course, it wasn’t Sol who opened the door - probably too lazy to get off his ass - but a tired looking Kitty, who greeted him with a kind, albeit weak, smile.

“Hello.”

“Hey.” Chris made sure to smile charmingly, using a pinch of his magic to put Kitty at ease: “I’m Chris. I’m moving in next door, and just wanted to give you a heads up and apology in advance for any noise I make. Moving can get loud, you know? Especially when you drop full boxes of kitchenware on your toes.”

Both of them laughed, Chris continuing his effort to put Kitty at ease, and Kitty because the magic was already working wonders in relaxing her.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last.

“Who the fuck is it?” snapped a voice that Chris had heard a hundred time’s in Kitty’s nightmares, the ones he hadn’t given her. The boyfriend.

Kitty kept her smile up, but Chris was aware of the exact instant it became forced: “Sol, this is Chris, our new neighbour.”

“I just wanted to apologise in advance for any noise I make while I’m moving in.” Chris shrugged casually, even as he felt the urge to reach out and snag the mortal man and throw him across the hall when he made Kitty flinch by putting his hand on her shoulder: “Shit can get loud, you know?”

“Just keep it down.” Sol rolled his eyes: “I don’t care if you’re moving, doesn’t give you the right to be a shit neighbour.”

Kitty looked embarrassed by her boyfriend’s rudeness, but didn’t say anything - not that Chris blamed her. Instead, he just held his hands up in surrender: “Okay, okay, I’ll do my best man.”

“See that you do.” Sol sneered, before slamming the door shut in his face.

Chris turned away to head back into his new apartment…smirking openly.

The first part of his plan had gone exactly as he had intended it to. He had been introduced to Sol, and looked the man in the eye. After that had been done, all he had to do was wait.

It didn’t take long. Kitty didn’t take Sol back with her when she went to visit her parents; he was too lazy to bother making the trip, and Chris knew Kitty’s parents, so he knew they wouldn’t like Sol. Kitty was too nice to risk upsetting either Sol or her parents, so she went home alone, leaving Sol alone in her apartment…at least until the woman he was fucking when Kitty wasn’t around showed up. It was exactly what Chris had wanted; Kitty had an alibi, there was a witness at the scene, and Sol’s mind was easy to get into.

The man was an idiot - getting into his dreams was like opening walking through a doorframe with no door. And once he was in, Chris didn’t waste any time.

It had been a long, long time since he’d killed someone through a dream…but Sol was a weak, weak man with a weak, weak heart. Between the dreams of finding himself trapped in an endless shadowy maze that was filled with things that flittered and skittered in the shadows, that wailed and moaned from just around the next corner, that brushed bony fingers over his shoulders and scratched claws across his shoulders, and Chris draining every last drop of the man’s vitality by turning it into fear and feeding off of it, Chris was done in less than three hours.

Sol’s heart just…gave out.

It was an inexplicable tragedy…at least to the humans involved.

No-one looked at Kitty; Sol’s death was ruled as being down to natural causes, albeit strange ones, and even if it had been suspicious, Kitty had been across the country when he died. Sol’s bit on the side melted away as soon as she could, not wanting to be known as ‘the other woman’. And Chris the friendly human neighbour revealed himself to be overly superstitious, and moved out, saying he was scared to sleep on the other side of a wall of a room in which someone died.

Days later, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Kitty had cleaned her room, aired it all out, and replaced her mattress and bed-sets. It was as if nothing had ever happened in her room - no-one would ever guess that someone had died in her room just over a week ago

I’m so proud of her.

Human form happily abandoned now his mission was completed, Chris manifested in Kitty’s room, lowering himself to sit on the bed and just watch her for a few seconds before he slid into the nightmares he was inducing. Mild ones, obviously. Nothing like the ones that had killed Sol.

She might be food…but she was still one of the very few humans Chris liked. He’d never give Kitty nightmares like that - he'd only ever cause her enough fear for him to feed off of, and other than that…

“Don’t worry, darling girl.” he murmured to her: “No-one’s going to hurt you again. If they do…I’ll make their nightmares hell.”

#The Trees Writes #The Trees' October 2020 Writing Challenge #Chris Motionless imagine #Chris Motionless fanfic #Chris Motionless fan fic #Chris Motionless fan fiction

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aswiya · 3 years

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Zeynab Serekaniye, a Kurdish woman with a gap-toothed smile and a warm demeanor, never imagined she’d join a militia.

The 26-year-old grew up in Ras al-Ayn, a town in north-east Syria. The only girl in a family of five, she liked to fight and wear boys’ clothing. But when her brothers got to attend school and she did not, Serekaniye did not challenge the decision. She knew it was the reality for girls in the region. Ras al-Ayn, Arabic for “head of the spring”, was a green and placid place, so Serekaniye settled down to a life of farming vegetables with her mother.

That changed on 9 October 2019, days after former US president Donald Trump announced that US troops would pull out of north-east Syria, where they had allied with Kurdish-led forces for years. A newly empowered Turkey, which sees the stateless Kurds as an existential threat, and whose affiliated groups it has been at war with for decades, immediately launched an offensive on border towns held by Kurdish forces in north-east Syria, including Ras al-Ayn.

Just after 4pm that day, Serekaniye says, the bombs began to fall, followed by the dull plink and thud of mortar fire. By evening, Serekaniye and her family had fled to the desert, where they watched their town go up in smoke. “We didn’t take anything with us,” she says. “We had a small car, so how can we take our stuff and leave the people?” As they fled, she saw dead bodies in the street. She soon learned that an uncle and cousin were among them. Their house would become rubble.

After Serekaniye’s family was forced to resettle farther south, she surprised her mother in late 2020 by saying she wanted to join the Women’s Protection Units (YPJ). The all-female, Kurdish-led militia was established in 2013 not long after their male counterparts, the People’s Protection Units (YPG), ostensibly to defend their territory against numerous groups, which would come to include the Islamic State (Isis). The YPG have also been linked to systematic human rights abuses including the use of child soldiers.

Serekaniye’s mother argued against her decision, because two of her brothers were already risking their lives in the YPG.

But Serekaniye was unmoved. “We’ve been pushed outside of our land, so now we should go and defend our land,” she says. “Before, I was not thinking like this. But now I have a purpose – and a target.”

Serekaniye is one of approximately 1,000 women across Syria to have enlisted in the militia in the past two years. Many joined in anger over Turkey’s incursions, but ended up staying.

“In discussions [growing up], it was always, ‘if something happens, a man will solve it, not a woman’,” says Serekaniye. “Now women can fight and protect her society . This, I like.”

According to the YPG, a surge in recruitment has also been aided by growing pushback against and awareness of entrenched gender inequality and violence over recent years. In 2019 the Kurds’ Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria passed a series of laws to protect women, including banning polygamy, child marriages, forced marriages and so-called “honour” killings, although many of these practices continue. About a third of Asayish officers in the Kurdish security services in the region are now women and 40% female representation is required in the autonomous government. A village of only women, where female residents can live safe from violence, was built, evacuated after nearby bombings, and resettled again.

Yet evidence of the widespread violence that women continue to face is abundant at the local Mala Jin, or “women’s house”, which provide a refuge and also a form of local arbitration for women in need across Syria. Since 2014, 69 of these houses have opened, with staff helping any woman or man who come in with problems they’re facing including issues of domestic violence, sexual harassment and rape, and so-called “honour” crimes, often liaising with local courts and the female units of the Asayish intelligence agency to solve cases.

On a sun-scorched day in May, three distraught women arrive in quick succession at a Mala Jin centre in the north-eastern city of Qamishli. The first woman, who wears a heavy green abaya, tells staff that her husband has barely come home since she’s given birth. The second woman arrives with her husband in tow, demanding a divorce; her long ponytail and hands shake as she describes how he’d once beaten her until she had to get an abortion.

The third woman shuffles in pale-faced and in a loose dress, with rags wrapped around her hands. Her skin is raw pink and black from burns that cover much of her face and body. The woman describes to staff how her husband has beaten her for years and threatened to kill a member of her family if she left him. After he poured paraffin on her one day, she says, she fled his house; he then hired men to kill her brother. After her brother’s murder, she set herself on fire. “I got tired,” she says.

The Mala Jin staff, all women, tut in disapproval as she speaks. They carefully write down the details of her account, tell her they need to take photographs, and explain they plan to send the documents to the court to help secure his arrest. The woman nods then lies down on a couch in exhaustion.

Behia Murad, the director of the Qamishli Mala Jin, an older, kind-eyed woman in a pink hijab, says the Mala Jin centres have handled thousands of cases since they started, and, though both men and women come in with complaints, “always the woman is the victim”.

A growing number of women visit the Mala Jin centres. Staff say that this doesn’t represent increased violence against women in the region, but that more women are demanding equality and justice.

The YPJ is very aware of this shift and its potential as a recruitment tool. “Our aim is not to just have her hold her gun, but to be aware,” says Newroz Ahmed, general commander of the YPJ.

For Serekaniye it was not just that she got to fight, it was also the way of life the YPJ seemed to offer. Instead of working in the fields, or getting married and having children, women who join the YPJ talk about women’s rights while training to use a rocket-propelled grenade. They are discouraged, though not banned, from using phones or dating and instead are told that comradeship with other women is now the focus of their day to day lives.

Commander Ahmed, soft-spoken but with an imposing stare, estimates the female militia’s current size is about 5,000. This is the same size the YPJ was at the height of its battle against Isis in 2014 (though the media have previously reported an inflated number). If the YPJ’s continued strength is any indication, she adds, the Kurdish-led experiment is still blooming.

The number remains high despite the fact that the YPJ has lost hundreds, if not more, of its members in battle and no longer accepts married women (the pressure to both fight and raise a family is too intense, Ahmed says). The YPJ also claim it no longer accepts women under 18 after intense pressure from the UN and human rights groups to stop the use of child soldiers; although many of the women I met had joined below that age, though years ago.

Driving through north-east Syria, it is no wonder that so many women continue to join, given the ubiquitous images of smiling female shahids, or martyrs. Fallen female fighters are commemorated on colourful billboards or with statues standing proudly at roundabouts. Sprawling cemeteries are filled with shahids, lush plants and roses growing from their graves.

The fight against Turkey is one reason to maintain the YPJ, says Ahmed, who spoke from a military base in al-Hasakah, the north-east governorate where US troops returned after Joe Biden was elected. She claims that gender equality is the other. “We continue to see a lot of breaches [of law] and violations against women” in the region, she says. “We still have the battle against the mentality, and this is even harder than the military one.”

Tal Tamr, the YPJ base where Serekaniye is stationed, is a historically Christian and somewhat sleepy town. Bedouins herd sheep through fields, children walk arm-in-arm through village lanes, and slow, gathering dust storms are a regular afternoon occurrence. Yet Kurdish, US and Russian interests are all present here. Sosin Birhat, Serekaniye’s commander, says that before 2019 the YPJ base in Tal Tamr was tiny; now, with more women joining, she describes it as a full regiment.

The base is a one-storey, tan-coloured stucco building once occupied by the Syrian regime. The women grow flowers and vegetables in the rugged land at the back. They do not have a signal for their phones or power to use a fan, even in the sweltering heat, so they pass the time on their days off, away from the frontline, having water fights, chain smoking and drinking sugary coffee and tea.

Yet battle is always on their minds. Viyan Rojava, a more seasoned fighter than Serekaniye, talks of taking back Afrin. In March 2018, Turkey and the Free Syrian Army rebels it backed, launched Operation Olive Branch to capture the north-eastern district beloved for its fields of olive trees.

Since the Turkish occupation of Afrin, tens of thousands of people have been displaced – Rojava’s family among them – and more than 135 women remain missing, according to media reports and human rights groups. “If these people come here, they will do the same to us,” says Rojava, as other female fighters nod in agreement. “We will not accept that, so we will hold our weapons and stand against them.”

Serekaniye listens intently as Rojava speaks. In the five months since she joined the YPJ, Serekaniye has transformed. During military training in January, she broke a leg trying to scale a wall; now, she can easily handle her gun.

As Rojava speaks, the walkie-talkie sitting beside her crackles. The women at the base were being called to the frontline, not far from Ras al-Ayn. There is little active fighting these days, yet they maintain their positions in case of a surprise attack. Serekaniye dons her flak jacket, grabs her Kalashnikov and a belt of bullets. Then she gets into an SUV headed north, and speeds away.

By Elizabeth Flock. Additional reporting by Kamiran Sadoun and Solin Mohamed Amin.

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fiercelittlestudyblr · 3 years

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Winter Studying Challenge 14th December 2020

Hi! I know I haven't posted last week and so I've effectively failed the challenge BUT I will be taking a picture of my planner for a coming post of just how busy I've been. Sooo I'm going to be answering about 9 questions today! Starting from my last missed day which is... yes... the 4th of December :S

4th december: Q: what's an unpopular opinion that you have about winter? A: I really don't like eating a lot of sweets and chocolate and that's what a lot of people love about winter! I dont have a sweet tooth!

5th December: Q: are you usually busy during winter? A: please see above about why I've missed a whole week of this challenge! 🙈

6th December: Q: do you get a break from school/uni/work during winter A: in theory!! I have 4 essays to write before the end of january!

7th December: Q: how do you stay motivated during winter? A: Honestly the requirement to meet deadlines. I put a pomodoro technique soundscape on at the moment or plant trees on forest app, and just make a long to do list of short tasks and make sure I keep fuelling my body.

8th December: Q: When should people start preparing for, decorating and celebrating Christmas? A: okay so usually I'm a grinch with decorating before December, but this years been so miserable I felt the sooner the better! We decorated last weekend but usually we wait for the 12th to put up decoration.

9th December: Q: what do you usually do during the holidays? A: usually I have a really long christmas day with my immediate family, and every year me and my secondary school friends do a secret Santa.

10th December: What is a cherished family tradition from your childhood? A: From my previous post its driving into town to see the christmas lights! Every year! My family has been doing it since electric christmas lights in London were a thing!

11th December: Q: what is a favourite family christmas/holiday memory that has stuck with you through the years? A: actually christmas has usually been a really difficult time of year for me and I've not had a good time most years. But I think when one christmas we went to the cotswolds for christmas and had a christmas day in the countryside.

12th December: Q: does your family have any odd traditions during the holidays? A: I dont know! I dont think it's that weird but trying Turkey guts and eating them on cheese crackers?

13th December: Q: when do you buy your christmas presents? A: I usually keep an eye out from october onwards in case something good pops up, but other than that I'm usually sorted around this week but not this year! This years been very strange though.

14th December: whew weve come to today!

Q: Share a memorable gift opening moment from your childhood.

A: The best present I ever received as a child was when I asked father christmas when I was 4 for Barbie in the Nutcracker on video, and I got taken to father christmas at my preschool and I. GOT. THE. VIDEO. it was amazing and belief in father Christmas peaked at that moment. I still have the video tape.

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ot3tropetober · 4 years

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let’s go steal an AU: FAQ

"Dammit, Hardison, what is going on here,” and other Frequently Asked Questions below the read more

01. What is this? This is a Leverage OT3 fanworks AU Trope Festival! Fanworks in the festival are focusing specifically on a) some combination of Leverage OT3 ships (Hardison/Parker/Eliot; Hardison/Parker; Hardison/Eliot; Parker/Eliot; Parker/Hardison) and b) AU’s. (Basically, the idea here is, Hardison thinks up all these cool AU’s for the various alias set-ups he constructs, and sometimes Parker and Eliot come up with their own.)

02. Why is this? Y’all are really out here asking the real questions, which we really respect. There’s no deep philosophical meaning here, this isn’t Star Trek. What happened was, we traded some tumblr posts back and forth with friends about all the silly/fantastic AU’s Hardison constructs for everyone’s aliases in his spare time, and it sounded fun to make it a Thing? So we made this tumblr for it, et voilà!

03. What kind of fanworks are eligible? Pretty much anything (fic, art, moodboards, gifsets, vids etc) as long as it’s a) some combo of Leverage OT3 ships and b) an AU.

04. Can I put other tropes in my stuff? Sure! You want to make a thing about Eliot the Christmas tree farmer and Hardison the big shot lawyer from the city who gets snowed in at Eliot’s Christmas tree farm and there’s only one bed oh no what will they do? Neat. You want to make a thing about how they’re all on a spaceship and oh my god they were roommates? Legit. Bring on the other tropes.

05. Can I write/create NSFW content for this? Yes. FYI, this tumblr is run by two cranky old people and you should assume all content (whether NSFW or not) is 18+. If you are not 18+, we kindly ask that you chill somewhere else until your 18th birthday.

06. This seems legit, how do I play in this sandbox? a) Go here to this Google sheet and check out the prompt list. There is NO limit to how many people can claim a prompt, the more the merrier! There is also NO limit to how many prompts you can take! b) Sign up in the Google sheet with your tumblr handle for whatever you want to make! c) Not vibing with the existing prompts? No problem! Add your own AU to the spreadsheet and sign up with your tumblr handle, just remember, other folks may claim your prompt too. d) Go create and have fun! (There is NO min/max on word count for fic. Do what feels right to you. Same for any other art form.) e) Some time during October, come over here and submit your finished work to the OT3Tropetober tumblr!

07. How do I submit a post-- should I submit a link to the finished work? The work itself? What happens if I have errors submitting my work? Totally up to you! It may be easier to submit the finished work itself, but if you’d rather upload it somewhere else (like AO3) and submit a link here that’s fine too. If tumblr is being tumblr and you have problems submitting stuff, you can either send us a message OR you can just follow the backup plan: post it to your tumblr but tag our blog in your post, and we’ll reblog it directly from you. (There is no Plan M, aka, the worst plan.)

08. Are there important dates? Yes! This OT3 AU tropefest is only going to be active for the month of October (1-31st!) in the year 2020, so if you want to participate, jump in any time during those 31 days!

09. I signed up for a prompt and I’m not actually going to be able to fill it :( What do I do? First of all, be kind to yourself. Things are hard. It’s okay. We’re cool. We know you’re doing your best. Second of all, there’s not really anything you need to do specifically! Why don’t you hang on to that prompt? Maybe you’ll feel like working on it in a few weeks or months or whenever. Just because October’s over doesn’t mean people won’t still enjoy what you made, even if you make it outside this challenge.

10. Who are you? This is a great existential question. Who can really say? Just kidding. We can say. We are definitely not Alec Hardison running this blog for his own amusement and/or the torment/delight of his partners, that’s for sure. We are @coffeesuperhero and @aimlessglee, and not Alec Hardison, at all, we promise.

Do you have a question that isn’t answered here? Send us an ask! We’ll get back to you as soon as we can.

#leverage ot3 #parker x hardison x eliot #ot3tropetober #leverage

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steves-on-a-plane · 3 years

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Steve’s-On-A-Plane’s Chronological Best Of Master List *Updated*

Pantone color of the year was: Classic Blue Highest grossing film was: The Eight Hundred #1 Song (Billboard Hot 100) was: Blinding Lights, The Weeknd Most Viewed TV Show was: NCIS 2 years in a row! Most featured character on this list: Steve Rogers ( 7 fics made the list!)

1. January 29, 2020 - Where Have You Been All This Time Words: 1337 [Luke Skywalker x Reader]

2 .March 8, 2020 - The Milky Twilight Words: 1648 [Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader]

3. March 18, 2020 - Mason Jars and Fifty Percent Words: 2068 [Bruce Banner x Reader]

4. March 23, 2020 - Not Home Without You Words: 990 [Steve Rogers x Reader]

5. April 6, 2020 - I’m The Love That You’ve Looked For Words: 1239 [Bruce Banner x Reader] Part Two (783)

6. April 7 2020 - We Are The Rebels, Baby Words: 902 [Poe Dameron x Reader]

7. April 7, 2020 - You Go Left, and I’ll Go Right. Words: 2069 [Poe Dameron x Jedi!Reader]

8. April 10, 2020 - Bruce Wayne’s Response To COVID-19 Listicle, no pairing

9. May 5, 2020 - Waiting For You Words: 2278 [ Poe Dameron x Jedi!Reader]

10. May 7, 2020 - Run. Words: 2132 [Tony Stark x Reader] Part Two (2051) / Part Three (2469) / Part Four (1517) / Part Five(1266) / Part Six (2132) / Part Seven (2084)

11. May 28, 2020 - The Camping Trip Words: 1484 [Steve Rogers x Reader]

12. June 5, 2020 - The Royal Goodbye Words: 1675 [Maxwell Beaumont x Reader] Part Two (1698)

13. June 9, 2020 - When Toys Get Left Behind Words: 388 [Woody x Reader]

14. June 10, 2020 - Hospital Hello Words: 1210 [Bruce Wayne x Reader]

15. June 14, 2020 - Yesterday Came Suddenly Words: 1320 [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

16. June 23, 2020 - Like A Tree Words: 1452, No pairing, Dad!Tony Stark & Daughter!Reader

17. June 24, 2020 - Stuck With You Words: 1200 [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

18. June 29, 2020 - The Way You Look At Me Words: 1115 [Bruce Banner x Reader]

19. July 1, 2020 - On The Fourth of July Words: 1818 [Steve Rogers x Reader]

20. July 25, 2020 - Dental Dread Words: 1298 [Steve Rogers x Reader]

21. July 26, 2020 - Just Coffee Words: 656 [Tony Stark x Reader]

22. August 2, 2020 - When You’re Feeling Tiered Words: 1073 [Steve Rogers x Reader]

23. August 5, 2020 - Poe and The Princess Words: 1450 [Poe Dameron x Reader]

24. August 22, 2020 - Midnight in the City Words: 1487 [Tony Stark x Reader]

25. September 10, 2020 - Snowed In Words: 1373 [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

26. October 1, 2020 - Spooktacular Halloween Masterlist (Halloween 2020 Writing Challenge)

27. November 3, 2020 - Keep The Nazis Out Of The White House Words: 640 [Tony Stark x Reader]

28. November 3, 2020 - Citizen of Brooklyn Words: 703 [Steve Rogers x Reader]

29. November 15, 2020 - Time Is Relative Words: 571 [Tony Stark x Reader]

30. November 18, 2020 - Distraction Words: 801 [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

31. November 21, 2020 - Prove Me Wrong Words: 982 [Han Solo x Reader]

32. November 30, 2020 - Pieces of My Heart Words: 3038 [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

33. December 1, 2020 - Winter Wonderland Masterlist (Winter 2020 Writing Challenge)

34. December 9, 2020 - Better Together Words: 2042 [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

Most Best Of...

Best of 2016 Best of 2017 Best of 2018 Best of 2019

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finleyjayne · 4 years

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Rainbow Writing Challenge

This month has brought many good and bad things for me and many others. One of which is that I have reached 100 followers. Thank you for following me! It means so very much to me! To Celebrate this milestone along with Pride and lift spirits a bit I’ve decided to host my very first challenge. Thank you so much for those of you who participate, read, and have encouraged me thus far. !

The due date for this writing challenge will be October 20, 2020.

Please use the tag #RainbowWritingChallenge and mention me in your post, so I can find your entry. Sometimes notifications can be a bit funny, so if you post an entry and see no interaction from me, send me an ask or DM, pretty please!

Please send me an ASK or DM to claim a prompt! Claims in comments or reblogs will NOT be taken into consideration. I am sorry.

Please, make sure you read the rules. If you have any questions at all, don’t hesitate to ask!

All rules and prompts are under the cut. Prompt types include song, moodboard/gifs, and phrase prompts.

This will be the main information post for this challenge and I will do my best to keep this list updated, so that if anyone wants to join it sometime later, you will know if there are any prompts left.

RULES:

You don’t need to follow me to participate, though it is appreciated

One (1) prompt per person and one person per prompt (to start)

When you send in a request, please let me know what character or ship you will be writing for. You can change this in the future if you want.

There is no word count requirements or limits, just remember to use the Read More feature. Drabbles, oneshots, series - everything’s fine.

No social media AUs, please.

My only request is that you tag your fics accurately and thoroughly.

Use appropriate warnings!

Smut is welcome but tag it properly!

Reader insterts and OCs are perfectly fine, but, please, no real people fics.

Ships like SamBucky, SamSteve, BuckyNat, SteveNat, SamNat, NatWanda, Stucky, Staron, SamSharon, BuckySharon are all okay, whether they include a reader/oc or not.

You may use the prompt in any way you choose. The only thing I require is for you to use your beautiful brains and try your best.

Songs:

Red Solo Cup: Toby Keith

Orange Trees: MARINA @nekoannie-chan (undecided)

Orange: CLAY

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road: Elton John @platonictrashh with Steve

Greensleeves: Traditional English Folksong (song ref #2)

Blue Eyes: MIKA

Blue Moon of Kentucky: Hilty & Mueller @jillmariej (undecided)

The Color Purple: The Color Purple the Musical

Purple Rain: Prince @2smittinkittin

Pink Shoe Laces: Dodie Stevens

Sarah Brown Eyes: Ragtime

Black and White: Niall Horan @star-spangled-beard-burn with Steve

White Flag: Joseph

White Winter Hymnal: Fleet Foxes

Pocket full of Gold: American Authors

Idioms:

Caught Red Handed @queennuthouse with Lancelot (from Merlin)

Apples and Oranges @tales-of-spring with Steve

Yellow Bellied @delicatetimetravelarcade with Wanda

Green Thumbed @captain-rogers-beard (@captain-rogers-beard-mainblog) with Steve

Feeling Blue @amythedvdhoarder with Stucky

Purple Prose

Tickled Pink @buckybarney (undecided)

Rose Colored Glasses @kittykatlow with Bucky

Black Sheep @angrythingstarlight with Bucky

White lie @donutloverxo with Ransom Drysdale

Moodboards:

Chris Evans Moodboard claimed by @shakespeareanqueer

Bucky Barnes moodboard claimed by @navybrat817

Loki Laufeyson Moodboard was claimed by @charmed-asylum

Natalia Romanova moodboard claimed by @marvelsswansong

Wanda Maximoff Board claimed by @danihow

Tony Stark Board was claimed by @jedinite16

There is also a Peter Parker Beige Moodboard up for grabs but I can’t attach it because tumblr only lets 10 images per post and can’t switch out the images by editing....

#writing challenge #pride writing #fanfiction #fanfiction writing challenge #rainbow writing challenge #rainbowwritingchallenge #finleyjayne

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fatehbaz · 4 years

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June 2020: Canadian mining company PolyMet very close to opening Minnesota’s first open-pit copper-nickel mine next to Boundary Waters, as Minnesota’s Supreme Court prepares to hear one of the final cases involving the company’s environmental permits. The $1-billion mine is expected to threaten Iron Ranges, Boundary Waters, Lake Superior, and 1854 Treaty Native territory; and would have a lifespan of merely 20 years.

Some resources:

For a good summary: Lorraine Boissoneault. “Conflicted Over Copper: PolyMet copper-nickel mine has been trapped in litigation.” Great Lakes Now. 12 June 2020. Excerpts are included below. Quick excerpt: “In 2011, the Bois Forte Band of Chippewa provided PolyMet with a review of the cultural and traditional religious significance of areas within the NorthMet project area. One of the authors summarized Band members’ unease over the mine, writing, ‘The area still supports cranberries, blueberries and trees with barks that was (and still is) used for illness. In addition, the pristine waters, fish, and natural habitat for fur bearing animals and birds will be affected by the mine. Our thoughts are on the generations to come and the generation that is here now.’”

For a shorter overview: Jennifer Bjorhus. “What you need to know about Minensota’s PolyMey and Twin Metals mine projects.” Minneapolis Star-Tribune. 23 October 2019. A bit outdated, since a lot of permitting/regulation has changed since the pandemic and since US presidential administration rules changes in April 2020.

“The [Minnesota] Court of Appeals ruled that the MPCA, which granted the air permit in 2018, should have looked harder at whether PolyMet plans to expand the mine well beyond the limits imposed by the permit.PolyMet’s Canadian securities filings indicate it may be planning a mine nearly four times larger than the operation covered by the air permit, which limits the mine to producing 32,000 tons of ore per day, the court noted.PolyMet, formally based in Toronto but run from St. Paul, is majority-owned by global mining giant Glencore.” [Source: Mike Hughlett. “Minnesota Supreme Court to review second Polymet permit ruling.” Minneapolis Star-Tribune. 7 June 2020.]

“Minnesota's non-ferrous mining rules have only been used to approve one project: the PolyMet copper-nickel mine, which sits outside the Rainy River Watershed and in the St. Louis River Watershed that flows into Lake Superior. PolyMet is not up and running as it faces numerous legal challenges to its permits, and Landwehr noted the state rules have never overseen an operational copper-nickel mine.” [Source: Jimmy Lovrien. “New lawsuit targets Minnesota’s copper-nickel mining rules.” Duluth News Tribune. 24 June 2020.]

A report on the nearly-complete permitting and Supreme Court case: Jerry Burnes. “PolyMet air permits join others at Minnesota Supreme Court.” Mesabi Daily News. 23 June 2020.

From June 2020, a summary of PolyMet’s mine and local Native objections:

“Who’s going to be there to tend PolyMet’s grave?” Klemz [Minnesota Center for Environmental Advocacy engagement director] said. The Department of Natural Resources estimated that restoring the mine area wouldn’t be completed until 2072, but another estimate showed water treatment could be necessary for up to 500 years at the plant site. [...]

In 2011, the Bois Forte Band of Chippewa provided PolyMet with a review of the cultural and traditional religious significance of areas within the NorthMet project area. One of the authors summarized Band members’ unease over the mine, writing, “The area still supports cranberries, blueberries and trees with barks that was (and still is) used for illness. In addition, the pristine waters, fish, and natural habitat for fur bearing animals and birds will be affected by the mine. Our thoughts are on the generations to come and the generation that is here now.” In September 2013, the Tribal Cooperating Agencies submitted their own cumulative effects analysis, pointing out their many concerns over the proposed mine. “The Fond du Lac, Bois Forte, and Grand Portage Bands, as well as the 1854 Treaty Authority (1854) and the Great Lakes Indian Fish and Wildlife Commission (GLIFWC), have consistently advocated for a more robust, comprehensive CEA for the PolyMet NorthMet project and other mining projects,” the groups wrote. “We have observed that current, historic, and ‘reasonably foreseeable’ mining activities have profoundly and, in many cases permanently, degraded vast areas of forests, wetlands, air and water resources, wildlife habitat, cultural sites [...].

-----

Despite efforts by these groups, PolyMet was on the brink of moving forward at the beginning of 2020. More than a decade of environmental impact studies and permit applications had resulted in the project nearing full approval. But in the past six months, the Minnesota Court of Appeals has sent back four permits for review: two dam safety permits, a permit to mine and an air emissions permit. The court has also been scrutinizing a water discharge permit as well. Now the company is mired in litigation, waiting for the Minnesota Supreme Court to issue a ruling that will either let them move forward or force them to participate in further hearings over the feasibility of their project. The outcome of the cases could have major repercussions for the future of copper-nickel mining throughout the state. [...]

PolyMet Mining, a Toronto-based company owned by Switzerland mining conglomerate Glencore, began the environmental review process in 2004. The next year, the company took ownership of an ore processing plant in northeastern Minnesota, formerly owned by LTV Mining Company and used for taconite. The site proposed for the project comprises approximately 19,000 acres spread across the headwaters of the St. Louis River near the towns of Babbitt and Hoyt Lakes. The NorthMet mine has been projected to produce 72 million pounds of copper, 15.4 million pounds of nickel and 720,000 pounds of cobalt each year of its operation, despite less than 1 percent of the ore being marketable mineral. With a proposed lifespan of 20 years [...].

-----

WaterLegacy began looking at the permitting process. Through records requests, they found that the EPA had serious concerns about the water permit. A leaked email later revealed that a Minnesota regulator asked EPA staff not to file written criticisms of the draft water permit during the public comment period. [...] The water pollution problems might look similar to what has already happened with iron and taconite mines: sulfates and heavy metals leeching into groundwater and flowing from rivers into Lake Superior.

This would also have further deleterious impacts on wild rice beds and fish around the St. Louis River watershed. As for major collapses, Klemz points to what has happened when tailings basins of the type PolyMet has proposed break open and release pollution downstream. Dam collapses like this have happened in Brazil in 2019, killing nearly 250 people, and in British Columbia in 2014 at the Mount Polley copper and gold mine.

In April [2020] the Trump administration provided a new definition for marshes, wetlands and streams that qualify under the Clean Water Act [...]. The new definition removes protections for most of the country’s wetlands [...]. Then in early June, Trump signed an executive order that instructs agencies to waive environmental laws in order for new industrial projects -- like pipelines and mines -- to move forward more rapidly, in the aftermath of the economic depression caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. Even before the federal legislation went into effect, state agencies in Minnesota had already eased regulations of environmental safeguards. According to Jennifer Bjorhus of the Star Tribune, by mid-May the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency had granted almost 430 emergency requests to delay or ease compliance -- though the agency also denied a request from PolyMet to defer monitoring nearby wetlands as well as surface and groundwater.

[Source: Lorraine Boissoneault. “Conflicted Over Copper: PolyMet copper-nickel mine has been trapped in litigation.” Great Lakes Now. 12 June 2020.]

---

Another mine undergoing review right now: Twin Metals. Also discussed 24 June 2020, in Duluth News Tribune.

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lins-fandom-hub · 4 years

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HPHM BANG 2020

And woohoo, October 1 is here, so why not kick it off with a BANG? Okay, that joke’s been used already--but hey I got a writing work here. And it’s paired with gorgeous artwork done by @swissgirlfromnowhere - I’ll put up a link to the artwork once it’s up! This was really challenging and yet still a lot of fun to write, so I’m really grateful to have signed up for this cool event.

Thanks to @hphmbang2020 for this--now let’s get things going!

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PROMPT: Faced with attending Hogwarts on her own, having no friends and being a Werewolf, Chiara has problems to adjust to her life as a Hogwarts student and find her way to happiness. But everything changes after she meets a cute little cub from the Forbidden Forest and gets more than she bargained for.

WORD COUNT: 3566

Here’s the artwork!

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LIGHT IN THE DARK

The glow of the flames rising high from the torches did nothing to light the darkness shrouded over the werewolf’s past.

Chiara Lobosca let out a slow, silent exhale, fists clenched at her sides. Hesitation slowed her steps, held her back in the throng of first-year students that surrounded her--the students all eagerly chattering in excitement as they followed their Prefect, Jane Court, to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Any typical kid her age right now would eagerly extend their hand to make a new friend, but she was not like the typical kid her age--not anymore.

Each of them were unaware of what she had been through. It was best to keep it that way.

It was not like she was scared of her own past. With parents that cared so much for her despite her recent afflictions, she felt like she could release her hold on the security blankets wrapped so tightly around her just a little. Still, the memory of her first and only friend learning of this secret and screaming in sheer terror at it when she realized her mistake upon seeing her transformation kept rising in her mind. The sight of what she became, when not the sweet shy girl in the day, led to the shadow forever cast over her head like an indestructible veil.

Knock, knock, knock-knock-knock. The sounds of her Prefect rapping her knuckles on a round wooden door caught her off-guard, but she managed to stop herself before she tripped over her feet. That was when she realized--tonight was the full moon. There was no way she could stay in her dormitory tonight without anyone knowing her secret.

The minute her Prefect dismissed everyone, she departed from the common room at high speed, dodging past the older students making their way into the common room and dashing out into the corridors. With what little strength she had in her conscious effort to distance herself, she wrenched the door open and sprinted across the grounds towards the forest. Her strides never faltered, feet pounding hard on the grass and breathing quickly through her mouth. As she reached the border treeline, she glanced back at the castle, distant lights from the windows twinkling like the stars in the sky.

Then her blue eyes widened as they soon met the luminescent glow of the full moon; her mind blanked, and she knew no more.

---

“Miss Lobosca--a word, if you may.”

The first Potions class came and went, and the conclusion of the hour in the chilly dungeon brought the end of the first day of classes for the first-year students. The Ravenclaws gave a half-hearted cheer in unison as they packed their bags and left in small groups of twos and threes. Some of the Hufflepuffs did the same, anxious to get out of Professor Snape’s way. Chiara was just clearing her things and didn’t even make three steps to the exit when the Potions Master called her to the front. She did so as the last student almost tripped on his loose shoelaces oh his way out of the classroom, deliberately biting back a swear.

“What’s the issue, Professor?” Chiara asked him timidly. “It’s...not about my Cure for Boils, I hope?”

“Your Cure for Boils was...passable,” Professor Snape told her. “At the very least, it was not brewed in a cauldron coated with Bulbadox Powder.” He peered at her face, his scowl deepening. “I didn’t notice that scar on your cheek at the Welcome Feast last night.”

“S-scar?” Chiara’s eyes widened in shock, her hand raised to her cheek where the long red line was etched. Indeed, it was a wound inflicted from the night before--a sharp branch from an unyielding tree drew the mark through her flesh. The initial sting from the impact suddenly multiplied itself tenfold at the memory. “I didn’t know you paid attention to these things, sir.”

“Tch.” Professor Snape stood up straight once more and cleared up his station at the front of the classroom with a wave of his wand. Then he beckoned towards the student with a hand. “Please follow me, Lobosca.”

In a manner that was almost like following a lethargic ghost drifting along, Chiara trailed behind Snape as they walked through the halls. Her skin prickled unpleasantly at every student glancing their way, but she did not look back, paid no heed to their whispers and stares. There was no reason to engage in business that was not hers to meddle in. The further away she stood from them, the better off she would be.

Eventually they reached the school’s hospital ward--a large rectangular chamber lined with beds dressed in light green covers and divided with tall curtains of a similar shade. The vibrant colours of the sunset streamed through the large windows behind the beds, casting a warm glow into the room. Chiara glanced around at all the empty beds--it wouldn’t be long before students started filling them in with Quidditch accidents and other common illnesses ailing them. Then she watched as Professor Snape approached the school matron bustling around with a tray full of medicines--a member of staff she didn’t recall attending the Welcome Feast.

“Professor Snape!” the matron exclaimed. “Didn’t expect you to come here so soon.”

“I brought a student with me here, Madam Pomfrey,” Professor Snape explained, gesturing to Chiara with a hand. “Perhaps she could explain--”

“There’s really no need, Professor,” Chiara interrupted him softly. “It’s just a scratch from a tree branch. It’s nothing to worry about.”

The matron, Madam Pomfrey, took a careful look at the girl, her stern eyes scanning over Chiara’s body almost as if she was performing an X-ray scan. “What’s your name?” she finally asked.

“Chiara Lobosca, ma’am.”

“Were you inflicted with any long-term wounds prior to last night? I was warned by Professor Dumbledore that one of the incoming first-years is a werewolf.”

Chills suddenly rooted Chiara to the spot at the sudden question, the cold tingles shooting down her limbs numbing her coherent thoughts. She nodded tersely. “Yes, I was bitten by a werewolf when I was seven. I had to run to the Forbidden Forest last night following the Welcome Feast so I wouldn’t...disturb anyone.”

At this statement, Professor Snape’s stern face suddenly morphed into a sneer, hands clenched into fists at his side. Madam Pomfrey, however, just nodded in thought--a reaction Chiara did not expect.

“I see. You are not the first student who has come here with a lycanthropic affliction,” Madam Pomfrey told her then. “And thankfully this time around we have a potential solution that could relieve the symptoms, if not cure them entirely--”

“Is there?” Chiara tilted her head a little.

“Yes, Wolfsbane Potion. It is very expensive and advanced to brew, but with the resources we have here I’m sure it would be worth it to see you succeed at Hogwarts,” Madam Pomfrey reassured her, turning towards Professor Snape who looked like he just swallowed a toad. “Is that right, Professor Snape?”

Despite the discomfort projected on the Potion Master’s face, he managed to nod. “Of course, Madam Pomfrey.”

“Now, really. We must ensure that everyone remains safe and well here regardless of what happens,” Madam Pomfrey said crossly. Then she turned back to Chiara. “I’ll heal your scars, and then Professor Snape will brew the Wolfsbane Potions for you. You must take one dose per day for a full week prior to the full moon, otherwise the potion will be ineffective.”

“What will happen by the next full moon if I do take all the doses?” Chiara asked as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over the scars.

“I imagine you will still transform, but retain human intelligence,” Professor Snape responded.

Retain human intelligence? Chiara scrunched her face up in concern, but she knew better than to ask--no one here had had her condition and received this treatment before. She simply nodded again, turning her attention instead to the way Madam Pomfrey healed her wounds with her wand. There was definitely something enchanting about healing magic, the way it closed wounds faster than leaving them to nature and time. As the mark on her face finally faded away, she smiled ruefully as she lifted a hand to feel the newly healed skin.

“There we go--I think those are all the wounds I see,” Madam Pomfrey told her then. “And...Miss Lobosca?”

“Yes?”

“Do be careful, alright?”

She saw the concern glimmering in the matron’s eyes--the same glimmer in her parents’ eyes reminding her of how much she will always be pitied because of how different she was--and she nodded again.

“I will.”

---

The sunny day that beckoned to her a week after the visit to the Hospital Wing did nothing to ease her mind. Sitting in a shaded corner by the courtyard, her Herbology textbook propped open in her lap, Chiara watched as her peers socialized in small groups of twos and threes, reading together or playing Gobstones together, eating sweets or simply having a chat. She could see the Weasley brothers laughing by the fountain’s edge, Charlie flapping his arms almost as if he was a huge dragon with fiery breath. She could see Tulip and Andre playing Gobstones off to her right, the latter almost shrieking as the liquid from the marble squirted all over his robes and his opponent squealed in laughter. She could see Penny being bombarded by other students to talk about gossip going around the school. All of them had bright smiles on their faces--smiles that were natural, not forced out of fear.

She was once able to smile like that too. The days she spent with Selina felt like so long ago, a time that seemed to belong to someone else…

“Hey! Chiara! Catch me if you can!”

She could see her friend dashing away to their usual spot in the park--the big oak tree that stood a little ways away from the playset-- and she laughed as she ran to catch up to her, a wild laugh escaping into the air. The grass felt so soft beneath her bare feet, springing beneath her soles as if she was running atop a trampoline. A warm breeze blew past, lifting her hair and her spirits up so high--and then she finally tapped the trunk of the oak tree, dashing just past her friend at the last second.

“Gotcha!”

“Aw, not again!” Selina cried, folding her arms in mock anger. “You’ve always beat me in every foot race!”

“What can I say? I guess I’m just naturally good at it,” Chiara said with a shrug, slumping down toward the grass with a happy sigh. “Can’t believe the summer flew by so fast too.”

“Like the messenger god on swift wings,” Selina remarked in agreement. “Time plays funny tricks on all of us, it seems.”

Yes, time played funny tricks on everyone who knew no better than her. Why she even told Selina about her lycanthropy in the first place, she would never say out loud without seeing her terrified face--a face that tore into a single shriek.

“MONSTER!”

Could that really be all she was? Would anyone see her for what she can be without the light of the full moon?

There was one wound Madam Pomfrey could never heal. Chiara looked down at the scar Madam Pomfrey did not touch--the bite delivered by Fenrir Greyback when she was younger. It was sealed by other Healers with powdered silver and dittany, but it could not completely remove the damage. It was this very scar that changed her life forever. It was this scar that turned her from a simple human girl to a monster.

But things could look up here. Like everyone else in the courtyard, she was still a student. She was already contributing to Hogwarts’ legacy in some way--that had to count for something, right?

She closed her book just in time to see a toad hop over to her, a golden Dungbomb strapped onto its back gleaming in the sunlight.

“Oh, hello,” she said tentatively, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

That was when she heard a laugh from above her, and Tulip stooped down to pick up the toad.

“Dennis, what did I tell you about hopping away so much?” Tulip reprimanded the toad lightly, scooping it up with her hand. “Next time, stay where you are, or else I can’t find you and I might panic.” She glanced over at Chiara and smiled broadly. “Thanks for helping me find my toad.”

“Huh? Oh. It’s nothing,” Chiara murmured with a nod.

Tulip eventually departed with Dennis still in hand, and Chiara sighed in relief. She couldn’t risk having another friend. She couldn’t risk getting close to anyone again.

Perhaps she would never smile like she used to again.

---

In the days that followed, Chiara found being at Hogwarts rather enjoyable. Herbology, Potions, and Charms were such fun to learn--all the Professors gave her praise whenever she did well, and encouragement when things got tough. She even decided to help Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing, which the matron greatly appreciated as students began to come in with ailments all over. In some way, accepting the letter to come to Hogwarts was probably one of the best things Chiara had ever done. Here she could forget about her own troubles, even for a fleeting moment, and find a purpose here.

However, the reminder of her troubles and the next full moon eventually brought her back to reality when she was once again called to the front of the classroom by Professor Snape after lessons. As the other students filed out once more in groups of two or three, she approached the Potions Master, apprehension settling in over her face.

“Muffliato,” Professor Snape muttered, waving his wand at the door. Then he turned to Chiara. “Wait here, Lobosca.”

He briefly left the room, ducking ino hisoffice, and came back out a few moments later with a goblet in hand. “Your Wolfsbane Potion dose for today, Lobosca.”

The goblet of potion looked very unsuspecting--filled to the top with dark blue liquid and emitting light blue smoke from the surface. She tilted her head at the goblet, then looked at Professor Snape. “It’s...supposed to look like this?”

“Yes, Lobosca. Now drink it.”

It was like tasting a soiled apple pie meleed with garlic and ghost chili peppers; as the concoction slipped down her throat with every sip, she had to resist every urge to gag. She glanced up at the Potion Master from the rim of her goblet, only to see his hardened glare forcing her to drink the rest of it in one gulp.

“Unpleasant, isn’t it?”

Chiara put the goblet down delicately and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s certainly...different,” she managed to say.

“Adding sugar to the potion would also render it ineffective,” Professor Snape warned her. Then he handed her a large bottle filled to the brim with the dark blue brew. “Remember, you must take one gobletful of the potion each day before the full moon. This should be enough to last you the rest of the week.”

“Yes, sir.”

---

The Wolfsbane Potion was not easy to stomach, let alone swallow, yet it was a medicine she dutifully took every morning prior to breakfast. Thankfully, no one asked her about her sudden change in morning routine. The foul taste of the potion did not stick around for very long in her mouth, either; it was easily doused with a sip of fresh ice cold water a few moments later. Still, Chiara had second thoughts about what would happen when the full moon rose. Could a werewolf really still retain human intelligence under its effects? What if the effects that she experienced weren’t what she was promised?

Eventually, the night of the full moon came around once more. Somehow, she felt that everything she had worked up to belonged to another student that should have been sleeping soundly in her cozy bed in the dormitory, safe and sound in the castle. As she ran out into the open air once more, sprinting across the grounds towards the forest, she felt uncertainty creep up her throat, the foul taste of the Wolfsbane Potion coating her tongue in place of the bile that usually came from shortness of breath and lack of stamina.

Running in pure joy was one thing; running out of fear was another thing entirely.

Her feet slowed as she approached the treeline of the Forbidden Forest once more, and she glanced back at the castle, at the twinkling lights from the castle windows. For some reason this time, the view gave her a small glimmer of hope. Somehow, tonight, everything was going to be fine.

Then her blue eyes widened as they soon met the luminescent glow of the full moon; her mind blanked, and she knew no more.

---

It was the sounds of birds chirping in the early morning that woke her from her deep slumber, the warmth of the sunrise seeping through her tensed cramped muscles. Chiara’s eyes slowly fluttered open, only to quickly shut again at the intense red-orange glow of the sun; she pushed herself up on her palms, the miniscule sticks and stones beneath her palms digging into her skin, and quickly surveyed her surroundings.

She seemed to be in a wooded clearing surrounded by bushes, trees with low branches serving a canopy over her head to shelter her from further dangers. Glancing around now at the forest in the day, she felt much more refreshed and energized than she ever had before following her transformations. She dusted her hands clean from the stones and sticks stuck on her palms and checked her face; there were no drying scabs, no scratches from what she could feel.

A small smile blossomed over Chiara’s face as she sat up, her eyes soon adjusted to the sunrise’s light. Somehow, she managed to make it through the night without a single murderous motive crossing her mind--what’s more, she survived without getting hurt herself. The Wolfsbane Potion truly worked after all.

“Borf!”

A chipper bark suddenly jolted Chiara up in her seat; her head whirled around now at the sound. Wherever could it be coming from?

“Borf!”

She tilted her head now at the rustling bushes to her right, a slow exhale escaping her lips. This couldn’t be one of the dangers in the Forbidden Forest now, could it?

“Borf borf!”

And out from the bushes burst a little pup with pointed ears, shining black eyes, and fluffy dark grey fur that bounced with every bound towards the girl. Its mouth turned up into a smile as it stopped by her knees, a playful gleam illuminating its eyes.

“Oh. Hello there,” Chiara murmured softly, holding a tentative hand out. “You’re a really cute little pup, aren’t you?”

“Borf!”

It didn’t seem to be in a hurry to run off. Perhaps it sensed that she was one of its kind and wanted to keep her company. Nonetheless, it didn’t seem to be a danger at all. Smiling faintly now at the memory of the first awkward encounter she had with Dennis, Chiara slowly reached out and lightly pet the pup on the head, which earned her a soft hum.

A docile wolf pup...she faintly recalled one of the Healers treating her wounds making a passing comment about werewolf pups. Werewolf pups were conceived when two werewolves mated whilst transformed under the full moon, and they were not savage beasts at all; in fact, they were known to be very intelligent and beautiful. Now she knew what they meant--indeed, they were very beautiful. And somehow, this one knew she was one of them.

Just knowing that it didn’t judge her at all for what she was made her feel immensely grateful.

Eventually, Chiara made her way back to the edge of the Forest; the sun had just about fully risen, and if she didn’t hurry she would be late for her first lesson of the day. She looked back at the Forest now, an immense wash of relief flooding her entire body--and her eyes fell upon the little wolf pup who had followed her all this way.

“Borf!” the pup called, wagging its tail excitedly once more.

Chiara chuckled as she approached the pup once more, giving him an affectionate pat on the head. “Looks like you really like me, huh?”

“Borf!”

“Well, I’ll say,” Chiara smiled. “I have to go back to the school, but I’ll see you later...Borf.”

“Borf borf!” The pup’s eyes gleamed in such an adorable way that made Chiara grin.

A light feeling enveloped Chiara’s mind and soul as she skipped through the grounds and blended in with the students now milling through the halls getting to where they needed to go. Somehow, the prospect of fitting in at Hogwarts without being judged was not as dim as she once thought it to be. In fact, there was no harm in being different--not when somewhere she could be accepted for what she could not control.

She smiled as she headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, thankful for Borf and all the joy and hope he brought her.

In some way, he was the light she needed that lifted the shadow of doubt that haunted her past.

#hphm bang 2020 #this was fun to write #though challenging #anyway here we go #chiara lobosca #hphm chiara lobosca #hogwarts mystery fic #hphm fic

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tripstaysnoided · 4 years

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Flow Just Like Water

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Story and writing-related transparency update and my many shames...

The Question on Everyone’s Mind

“Hey you haven’t updated No Stars over Uptown in almost a year...”

Hmm, I hate it when you’re right. (This section has been rewritten ad-nauseam to curb back the bitchiness by the way)

So back in early/mid 2018, the idea was to divorce Uptown from a person who influenced it (and myself) heavily. She was my most important audience member, the closest friend I ever had, and unfortunately someone who used her power to bully, ostracize, and hurt others with my help. I cut contact when the hurt + some self-awareness finally reached me. Apologies were made and I feel like my work will never be done with it, but there was still Uptown.

Between censored comments, entirely recasting Axel’s save, different plot threads, and a load of disclaimers, there was nothing that would scrub her influence from the story. There was no way to cleanly drop everything because of how deep her influence went. It disgusted me to look back at it, and I had to private the blog because I feared what it endorsed, even if just in the past.

I pulled back from that sims writing community. I had its main thread on the Official Forums removed too (I guess if that was a mystery to anyone). It was a surrender that I never wanted to do, but I had it in my mind that if I was gone, then she wouldn’t be there either. Uptown became this cursed item, and as I quietly retired it, I noticed that she went quieter too. Not gone, but enough to make me sleep easier at night and even occasionally say hello to old friends.

And I hope deep in my heart that no one else is getting hurt in my place, but now this is gonna haunt me all day huh!

The two paths forward...

1) Complete Uptown rewrite that I’ve been threatening everyone with all year. While it won’t ever be clean because I can’t undo time, I do have a sound outline for a story that is much more true to my actual vision and how I’ve evolved, with a few necessary boundaries in place that are going to be there for all stories moving forward: no more casting calls and no more collaborative efforts. I am not going to open myself up to this happening again, even if the people have changed.

2) Same as above, but I continue the original Uptown as a favor to loyal readers alongside the rewrite. I would try to put the effort into it that I initially did, but with no promises on an update schedule and no advertising. I did ask myself “is there Patreon but without pledging money, just the private posts function” but it could operate as part of a private forum, a members-only part of a website, etc.

Also readers of the original would be beholden to a rule of “don’t spoil the rewrite for new readers, c’mon guys”. I mean, not really, but it is a good courtesy to extend to people.

Priority on this isn’t high but you at least will see what is!

I will probably make the blog public again either way due to the many broken links on my Tumblr but we’ll see. There are other things to deal with as I shall list!

Where Life’s Been Regardless

Been spending more time with my grandpa every weekend. Life’s pretty good and he’s warming up to my dogs.

Shiny New Webbed Site

Cucumber Fields Forever is a site I own now. We have a full domain, cucumberfieldsforever.com, a blog with one post, and the framework needed to host stories the way I want to and still through WordPress. The functionality of likes, comments, and following should still be the same but you know...I’ll take feedback too...

The main blog still has an undefined purpose though I do have drafts sitting around about:

The maybe/maybe not hoax band that was on the Metal Archives and the history of Funeral Doom Metal.

The curious case of when Sims 4 babies get their genetics and my only collaboration (read: was talking about it with a friend and might quote her if needed, it’s actually a bit of a doozy)

Amazon.com’s fake dried udon noodles, an actual issue by the way.

Things I’m reading! (This’d be a monthly feature if so)

For the sake of unity, I am thinking of solutions for hosting old and shameful content there including Uptown and for the real fans in my followers feed, Eight Cicadas...a world I totally have plans for too (not really). I don’t want them to be front-and-center, and that’s why I mentioned forums/members-only content. I finally have that power! Maybe.

Ooooh but what are the costs? Not too much to handle, that’s what. 😉 (Like really, I don’t need any hand-wringing about this, I can manage my finances)

Project Queue (In Order of Confirmedness)

Outrun the Scythe: have you seen me post out-of-context Sims 3 pictures? Did you want more? Did you hope it was Linda in Custody? If the answers are yes, yes, and “meh, whatever you want”, then you’re in luck.

Outrun the Scythe is a Sims 3-based tale of a young gay man and his zombie grandma, as they are both offered separate roles of being the undying intermediaries between the world of humans and the influence of a race of space daemons. It’s pretty familiar if you’ve been following me pre-Uptown, taking some cues from stories I’ve kept under lock and key like Eight Cicadas, The Chains of Lyra, and the not-so-locked-up Ironstar Immortals (of which Outrun is just the direct sequel to sans any retconning...ah the smell of early 2013 and performative heterosexuality)

Ah, back to my roots.

It’s a hybrid of gameplay, story, and lore about my little race of daemons with a lot of my own idiosyncrasies that I’m not really ashamed of: basing it off a super-polarizing Sims 3 challenge from a site I moderate, using a lot of EA’s pre-made townies and their genes, lots of unnecessary posemaking, stupid references. It’s a comfort to have in my roster.

While the first few chapters are in the middle of revision, I have around six in the queue and will be making this public when I have ten. I’m guessing December then?

Undocumented Black Widow Challenge: I just did this for fun/forum kudos (yes, in fact I have joined many forums), there was going to be a short story but it was quickly becoming something against my code of ethics. I mean, sims die and all. (read: I had to choose between “heterosexual widow” and “widow with some same-sex marriages that still end in tragedy, reinforcing negative stereotypes to the public for the sake of me not getting bored and detached during gameplay” so there were no good choices. Except for her affair with the mailwoman, 10/10) I hope to finish this before October ends and get my medal on Boolprop, I’m pretty far through it all. I might upload the sims involved anyways. This is for TS4.

I mentioned it because it’s keeping me busy. But not for long!

NaNoWriMo 2020: Dipping my toes into that again! It’s not sims-related, just a tale of lesbians, nosy neighbors, a haunted beach house, and some light murder and kidnapping. And I actually got my brother to scout out locations for me this weekend. If there’s any demand, I can share chapters as the rough drafts are finished, especially for the sake of proofreading.

Not saying I’m publishable, but wouldn’t it be nice? Will keep me occupied for much of November.

Untitled “Dear Diary” Challenge: Tired of feeling left out of the fun on the Boolprop forums, their “Dear Diary” challenge was the one that appealed to me the most on first glance. Why? Probably once I found an idea that let it be set in the early/mid-2000′s to begin with and explore some interesting characters through diary entries (which I have mixed feelings on as a literary device but I think that’s just me saying “well I didn’t like Dracula”, yes you get bonus points for writing it like a diary)

Also writing is the one skill I’m good at across multiple games. Wanna hear me bitch about the cooking skill tree in TS4 or riding in TS3? I’ll spare you.

I guess I could have included “spending time on Boolprop with old and new friends” in where my life has been. It’s a nice lil community if also a place with its own idiosyncrasies as well. So it doesn’t feel like I’m promoting another community if/when I make a thread there for Outrun the Scythe, I want to have a couple chapters of this ready to go by Outrun’s release, though it’s not gonna be the highest priority compared to it nor as long because I think I can blast through the gameplay quickly.

This one will be played in TS4 due to it having the easiest writing skill/I dunno variety is the spice of life. And hopefully another December release.

Defunded or Forgotten?: Oh shit I actually released stuff in 2020 and told no one? I do have a “mortifying ordeal of being known” sinking feeling whenever I get a site hit because it’s not my best work (but good enough) and veered sharply into issues I may be over my head in, though I try to be a good noodle with research and listening. Maybe hiding is bad after all.

Being based off a very flawed and incomplete Sims 3 challenge I found in the annals of the Official Forums, there’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work just making sense of things. And I’m scared of working on reconstructing the house but I haven’t abandoned the project yet. The story has eight chapters so far and is pretty game-based with some additions here and there. Scared of how long it could be though!

Date for this unknown.

Untitled Sunlit Tides Decadynasty: another year-long abandoned TS3 project with a much stupider reason why. Last update was about Hua getting ready for her wedding, and I wanted to do some poses for a bait-and-switch wedding chapter because to put it mildly, her real one was an absolute disaster.

Blender decided to fuck up its interface again, I got discouraged (this probably does account for some of the Uptown delays too), and when I decided to plow forward, it was for other projects instead.

Meanwhile I played all the way to Gen 5′s teenhood and the only thing stopping me is time (it takes almost 30 minutes to load the file right now, though they’ll be looking at moving towns in a couple gens) and maybe fear of the Logic skill.

Date for this also unknown but it’s easy to pump out updates once I’m in the groove for it. My third heir had a difficult life so maybe I’m just trying to bury it.

Also I just noticed the view count there was really good and probably because I linked it here on Tumblr last year. Thank you so much guys. I can’t really fret over views on Carl’s forum these days thanks to the years-long death spiral pretty much every forum anywhere has been riding on. But it’s a nice surprise. And it’s an alright little challenge recap to read during your lunch break or whatever.

The Wawas

I figured I’d end on the real news everyone wants! Both the chihuahuas are a year and a half now and reached their adult size around a year ago. For the most part, they are happy and healthy dogs.

#state of the uwunion #long post

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damien-ward · 4 years

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Daily Writing Challenge 2020

October 18th - Alone

[This takes places a day after “Cemetery” prompt]

The road was dark as the group travelled along it, the sounds of the forest echoing around them animal squeals, howls, birds flapping around as they scurried through the trees. It was midday and yet the forest around them was dark as the canopy seemed to block the light from reaching the ground. Despite the warning they were given they had left the road because Victor would not go further down the path as it led straight into the heart of the Crimson Forest. Looking at the map they discerned that if they cut through the forest they could reach the road on the other side and avoid walking directly into the middle of the woods...

Dardillien kept Celina and Jason close, closer than he did while they were on the road, just in case he needed to grab them to move them out of the way. Just then an otherworldly screech came from up ahead as well as the faint shimmer of light through the fog. Victor had lifted his rifle aiming in the direction of the light while Dardillien stepped forward between the two children to put his arms in front of them.

“What was that?” Jason’s voice trembled.

“I have my guesses..” Victor said bluntly without looking over his shoulder, “I just hope I am wrong.”

They had to keep moving forward, they knew the road was a straight shot ahead and diverting their path to avoid whatever made the screeching sound would risk them getting lost. Moving slowly Victor kept his rifle trained forward and Dardillien pulled his revolver from its holster while his other hand rested on Celina’s head as she stayed glued to his side. As they drew closer to the source of the screech a light began to shine brighter through the fog... until finally they were able to see that it wasn’t a light but fire peaking out from behind a tree.

Victor moved forward to step around the tree and then lowered his rifle and nodded that it was clear. The other three then circled around the tree.

“Think we found what made the screeching noise.” Victor gestured towards the burning husk of a nightmarish creature, a foul construct made of wicker and bone with long, lanky legs and arms with sharp claws. The mercenary squatted down and poked at the creature with the barrel of his rifle while Jason moved to get a better look. By the creatures feet looked like a tripwire of some kind and shattered glass around its body.

“Mister Drake, what is it?” Celina asked once again clung to her father’s leg, hiding behind it as she stared at the monstrosity.

“This, is a wicker construct, a nasty thing made by witches.” he paused and looked at it before looking over his shoulder and around, “I wonder why it was out here by itself... it looks like it walked into a trap of some kind which explains the fire. Probably left by the Inquisitors to protect the people of Falconhurst.” he pointed at the tripwire and shattered glass.

While Victor spoke Dardillien’s eyes scanned the area all around them, Victor bringing up why the construct was out here alone raised the investigator’s suspicions. Using his heightened senses he tried to pick up on something, anything, in the immediate area around them. However, all he could smell was the burning wicker creature, but even more odd was the silence around... “Shhhh.” The Gilnean stated. “Do you hear that?”

Victor and Jason looked at him, “Hear what?” both asked.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Dardillien responded looking around them. Not a single animal stirred, not a single noise resonated through the dark forest around them, “We aren’t alone. We’re being watched.”

Celina squeezed at his pants and hugged against him, he could feel her shaking and looked down at her before back up and Victor and Jason, “It’s probably nothing... Come on, let’s keep moving so we can get back on the road.”

“Right.” Victor stood and readied his rifle again, moving ahead to the front of their group while Jason stood in the middle, Dardillien this time picking up Celina to carry her while whispering to her that everything was okay. All the while keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of movement around them.

(He is a horrible father hahahaha but in his defense he didn’t know about all the spooky stuff in Drustvar.)

@daily-writing-challenge

#ic #Celina Ward #Jason #Treasure of Drustvar #writing challenge

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looking-for-another-world · 4 years

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Not Alone

summary: Bucky spends Christmas alone at the compound. Or nah?

pairing: Bucky x reader

warnings: 18+, tiny bit of angst, mentions of family toxicity, cursing, explicit smut, dirty talk, like one allusion to reader being plus-sized, soft!bucky, really sappy - you have been warned

words: 6321

a/n: This is my entry for @honeyhan-123‘s HOLIDAY SPIRIT WRITING CHALLENGE. I had the prompt “Finding the perfect Christmas tree / decorating it” and looking back, I might have slightly diverted from that oops. This was so much fun to do though. This is literally my first finished piece of writing in years, so be nice to me, ok? Right, tmi. Anyways, this has gotten way out of hand in terms of how many words I wanted to write. I might make 3 separate files of it when I’m in the mood to figure out links, but for now here’s the entire fic in one. Enjoy! Also, I hope your 2020 is going to be amazing ❤💫🥂🎆

Prologue

As soon as Bucky stepped into the kitchen of the Avengers compound, his super soldier senses made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Something’s wrong.

It was Dec 23, one day before Christmas Eve, and everyone except him had gone away for the holidays. Clint was visiting Laura and the kids, accompanied by Natasha (apparently, the boys had been nagging their mom for a solid 2 months whether Aunt Tasha would be staying with them), Wanda and Vision were traveling around Europe, Tony had taken Pepper to some little island in the Caribbean Sea, and Steve and Sam had booked a cozy, remote cabin in the woods to go skiing, hiking, getting drunk (well, Sam at least) and most importantly, getting away from being the Avengers for a few days.

Initially, Steve had Friday book the trip for three persons, but Bucky had refused. This was the first Christmas since many years that he was starting to remember who he was, really was, and although Steve was pretty much everything he considered home, he had preferred to spend Christmas where he actually came from.

In the end, Steve had reluctantly agreed, not wanting to push his best friend, but insisting that they at least spoke to one another on the phone every day. And so, Bucky had spent his day wandering the streets of Brooklyn for hours, fulfilling his best friend duty on his way home and telling Steve how much everything had changed and yet, strangely, still felt familiar. He could hear Steve smile through the phone; he felt the same. That’s when Sam had burst through the door of the hut, screeching “All I want for Christmas is you” next to Steve’s ear and ruining the moment. Steve had said his goodbye, leaving to stop Wilson from inhaling another bottle of Eggnog, and Bucky had wished him good luck with the bird brain. He returned to the compound, more mentally than physically exhausted, and headed straight to the kitchen, suddenly remembering that he hadn’t eaten something in hours. And there it was: A small puddle of water on top of the counter, as if someone had taken something out of the fridge and put it there for a moment. Only that there was no one to do that. He was supposed to be alone.

It couldn’t have been him: his soldier and assassin training had left him with an urge to leave everything neat and tidied; no traces. Silently, he made his way back into the hallway, calling the elevator and going two levels down, to the first level that was officially “Avengers territory”. Going back up, he searched every floor without coming across anything suspicious. And then, as the doors of the elevator opened to the 18th floor with a slight swoosh, he sensed it: There’s someone else on this level. He tensed up. His super soldier hearing going into overdrive, he snuck along the dimly-lit corridor until he heard them: sounds coming from the last room to the left, the entertainment room, stacked up with books, movies, consoles, a pool table, anything you could think of to pass your free time. He tried to hear more intently. The person on the other side of the door barely produced sounds; all he could make out was their shallow breathing. Someone with a normal hearing wouldn’t even have caught up on it.

Bucky conjured up a blueprint of the room: even if he could get through the door unnoticed, there was no place to hide. The whole design of the room practically screamed: “Look who’s coming!” His only advantage was the element of surprise. Trying to calm down his nerves, he took a few deep breaths and braced himself. Not wanting to have his arms in a position he could easily be taken hold of in, he stepped back, raised his right leg and kicked the door down, storming inside, met by a piercing scream and a loud splash as the bucket of ice cream you had been holding met the ground.

“(Y/N)?!”

“What the hell?!”

“Why are you here?”

“I fucking live here in case you haven’t noticed! Why are you kicking the goddamn door down like I’m some HYDRA agent trying to slit your throat?”

“Because-”, Bucky stops, guilt washing over him. Guilt and anger with himself. Even HYDRA wouldn’t be so dumb as to blow their cover like that, and they’d do a bit more than get the kitchen counter dirty if they wanted to make their presence known. “Because I thought you were one.” His voice is low now, almost a whisper, his eyes unable to meet yours, fingers fumbling with the hem of the coat he didn’t have time to take off. And seeing him like this, you understood: He thought someone had intruded.

You let out the breath you were holding. “I’m sorry, Buck. I wasn’t thinking. I should have let you know about my change of plans and that I’d be spending Christmas at the compound.”

His ears perked up at that. “You are? I thought you were going to visit your family.” You smiled sadly and now that his mind and body weren’t overtaken by adrenaline anymore, he took in your state for the first time. You looked pale, your eyes red-rimmed, like you had been crying. You were wrapped in the navy-blue blanket twice your size that Wanda had given you for your birthday. It went all the way down to your ankles where the legs of your sweatpants were peeping through, showing just a small stripe of skin before the fabric of a pair of green fuzzy socks covered your skin again. The ice cream you had dropped started melting on the ground, slowly dampening part of the expensive rug the pool table stood on, which you didn’t seem to notice. “What happened?”

You let out a mixture between a snort and an unconvincing laugh. “I talked to my mom on the way to the airport. She started complaining about how much I’ve been letting them down this year, bringing up things I didn’t even think were an issue anymore, and how she hoped I would pull myself together this time, for the sake of Christmas and our family. So, I figured I’d probably have a more fun time being alone in my room and sleeping for like 2 weeks than I’d have being with them.” The last part was meant to sound casually, but Bucky didn’t miss the twitch of your lips and how your eyes started to gloss over again. He wanted to say something to comfort you, but his mind didn’t know where to start and so he just kept staring at you wordlessly, which you took as a sign of annoyance.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you with that shitty Christmas music or candy or anything of that kind. I’m not gonna ruin your alone time. Just pretend I’m not here.”

He frowned at that, then, and as his tongue still seemed to be tied, he did the only thing he felt was appropriate: He put your arms around you and hugged you, hard, all-consuming. “I’m not worried you’re going to ruin my alone time. I like having you around. I’m sorry your family are like that, when they’re the ones letting you down.”

You’d liked to reply to that, thank him for his sweet words, but you were sure you’d start crying again the second you stopped biting down on your lip. So you reciprocated the hug as best as you could; after all you were lacking Bucky’s strength. Bucky squeezed you shortly and let go, and when your eyes locked again, you couldn’t help but mirror his warm smile. Jesus, this guy certainly made you feel things. No surprise you were crushing on him so hard.

“We’d better clean this up”, Bucky said gesturing to the now empty ice bucket head and your eyes widened as you noticed the mess you’d made. “Shit!”. Tony had spent an insane amount of money on that carpet, even for his proportions. He’d shoot you to the moon for that.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Bucky jogged back to the elevator, returning a minute later with a wet cloth and a roll of kitchen towels which he handed to you. Getting to work, you suddenly became aware of how much closer than usually you two were. You could smell Bucky’s aftershave – something resembling cedarwood – watch the muscles in his arms flex as he tried to rid the fabric of its B&J make-over, study the stubble on his perfectly sculpted jaw, his hazelnut locks, his plump lips. Oh god, his lips. Just thinking about having those lips kiss every inch of your body got you worked up. Get a grip, for fuck’s sake!

“So you’re really planning on skipping Christmas? It’s your favorite holiday”, Bucky interrupted your thoughts, shooting you a glance to see you shrug your shoulders. “I don’t want to see my parents right now, and I can’t imagine celebrating Christmas on my own. So yeah, guess I’ll be taking a break from it this year.”

“You’re not on your own, though. You’re with me. We can celebrate.”

You felt a pleasantly warm sensation in your stomach which you tried to ignore, quirking an eyebrow at him instead. “You hate Christmas.”

“I don’t hate all of it, I hate what it’s become. I hate that most people care more about what useless shit is in their stockings or under the tree than about who they’re spending their time with. I hate how every shop starts putting up Christmas stuff before it’s even October. They don’t even call it “Christmas” anymore. I mean seriously, xmas? What’s that even supposed to mean?”

Despite yourself, a small giggle escaped you at how upset he could get about it all and realizing he had started ranting without wanting to, Bucky had to stifle a laugh as well. "Point I’m trying to make is ” he concluded “I wouldn’t mind spending Christmas with the right company.”

Oh, and that’s supposed to be me? Right company?“, you shot back. "Sure thing, doll. You’re like an expert on Christmas, I can’t go wrong with you. Also, I like having you around. ” He furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ve already said that, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, you have. But that’s okay, I like hearing it”, you laughed, your hand briefly touching his arm. You were becoming kind of needy, it appeared. Bucky didn’t seem to mind though, or at least he didn’t let it show.

Looking down, you noticed with an internal sigh of relief that the ice cream puddle had given way to the water and the kitchen towels. All that was left was a wet patch that would hopefully disappear overnight.

“Guess that’s as good as it gets”, you joked. “Thanks for helping me.”

“It’s the least I could do, after scaring the shit out of you.” He took the dirty towels from you. “Guess we’re Christmas buddies then” he grinned. It was surprising how excited he seemed to be all of a sudden, but you didn’t let yourself linger on that thought. “Well, as the official Christmas ambassador, I have to let you know that this place sucks. There’s not even decorations.”

That was true. The past weeks had been incredibly hectic, even more than in previous years, and since almost everyone would be gone over the holiday season anyway and Bucky had emphasized several times that having the tower turn into Santa’s village would most likely lift his dinner, rather than his spirits, Tony hadn’t bothered to put up decorations.

Bucky gave you an amused look. “I see you’re getting into it. Alright, what do we need?”

“You mean, like everything?”

“Yeah, like the ideal setting. Can’t be that difficult.”

You gave him a sceptical look. “Oh no, not at all. We just need the decorations, music, candy, ugly Christmas sweaters, stuff to bake cookies, a firepla-”

“Okay, okay, I take it back.” Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “This is too much. What’s the most important thing?”

“The tree”, you replied without thinking. “The tree is the most important, to me at least. When my dad used to tell me he’d be bringing the Christmas tree home tonight, I’d spend all day glued to the window of my room, waiting for his car to steer into the driveway. It’s the one thing we ever did as a family, all three of us, decorating the tree. Everything else would be pretty much Mum and me, since Dad would be out working. The tree is … it just wouldn’t feel like Christmas without it.”

Inadvertedly, your brain had walked down memory lane to pictures of baubles in gold and red and purple and every color of the rainbow, mingled with the scent of fir and your dad’s bass voice singing “Have yourself a merry little Christmas” to you while you were sitting on your lap, and suddenly another wave of sadness hit you and you had to fight back the tears that were starting to well up again. You swallowed thickly before looking back at Bucky and were met with an understanding look. He had noticed your struggle but chose not to bring it up again and you were grateful for that. Grateful for him.

There were a few beats of silence before the super soldier offered you a tentative smile and said: “So Christmas tree is your final answer?” Another giggle.

"That’s my final answer.”

Part 1

You woke up to a sky the color of granite. Gloomy light and heavy clouds. Your heart jumped a little in your chest at the prospect of another downfall of snow. What’s Christmas without snow, right? Too comfortable to get up right away, you snuggled back into your pillow and let your mind wander.

It was embarrassing, really, but thinking about spending the whole day with Bucky filled you with a mix of anticipation and nervousness you usually felt before first dates. Prior to your job interview last February, you had spent hours and hours hooked up on research about the people you might soon be working with – the fucking Avengers! -, but Bucky’s story, or at least what was known of it to the public, had fascinated and moved you the most. It was hard for you to wrap your head around how someone could endure the most appalling things you could possibly imagine, and that for decades. Someone like the ex-Winter Soldier could barely be human anymore, filled to the brink with hatred and disgust for the world and the people in it, that you were sure of. And then, when you got the job and got to know him – he was the exact opposite. Sure, he was careful and hard to read, especially at the beginning, but he was kind. He was funny. He was emphatic. He was a nerd. He was sweet. And when you moved in to the tower and the two of you spent more time together, your feelings towards him grew stronger, and you found yourself imagining waking up next to him, his lips on yours the first thing you taste in the morning. Cupping his cheek and watching his eyes crinkle when he flashes you his million-dollar smile. Stroking his hair while he reads his favorite passages out to you or rambles about how all the things he’s just discovering now are not quite as good as what they had back in the days, but some of them are not bad. Being pressed down by his weight as you get to explore all of his gorgeous body and find out what sounds he makes when he’s buried in you, filling you up, making you feel so good as you’re begging him not to stop because he’s hitting just the right spot and you never want to let go of him, so good, please Bucky, please don’t stop, oh God, I’m so close baby, fuck…

The loud buzzing of your phone jerked you out of your trance and made you sit up straight in your bed, your heartbeat thumping in your ears, cheeks heated, fingers you didn’t even remember putting there coated in your arousal. Breathing heavily, you stretched your neck to see who the caller was: Mum. Oh, hell no. In a sudden burst of resurging anger, you declined the call, threw your phone away from you and let yourself fall back against the headboard with an audible huff.

Finishing the job wasn’t going to happen after yesterday’s events started rolling in, so you forced yourself out of bed and into the shower, washing away the heat of your little daydream with water as cold as you could bear. Putting moisturizer on, you focused your thoughts on today. If Bucky still wanted to help setting up everything for Christmas, they should get started as soon as possible. An actual Christmas tree was a bit too much to ask obviously, but maybe they could find a fake one and some funny tree ornaments to go along with it? Sweaters shouldn’t be that much of a problem either, they practically threw them in your face around this time of the year. And the Christmas music could easily be taken care of by Spotify.

You started listing the essential ingredients for three or four kinds of Christmas cookies in your head when you left your room to get breakfast. Closing the fridge door, you tried to decide where and in which order to go to get everything you needed on time (or should you split up?) when you noticed the yellow, blue, pink and green dots on the cold metal surface, dancing around in a carefully studied rhythm like colorful fireflies. Frowning, you turned around.

The huge panorama windows were decorated with beautifully woven ice flowers up to almost half of their height and framed by several strings of Christmas lights, cheerfully blinking against the grey sky outside and bathing the living room area in a colorful hue. Now that you stepped closer, the living room looked different as well. The couches and armchairs were covered under thick and fluffy-looking plaids and pillows with different Christmas-themed motives; a very kind looking Santa Claus on one, a couple of reindeer holding cups of Eggnog and singing “Jingle Bells” on another and the slogan “Tis the season” in as much glitter as could be fitted on so small a space emblazoned on a third. There were decorations, too: a nutcracker next to the tv, an angel’s choir holding candles on one of the couch tables, a snowman, a sledge, a rocking horse, a squirrel in a scarf… You couldn’t even decide where to look first. Too preoccupied to take everything in, you didn’t notice Bucky’s presence until he cleared his throat. “Do you like it?” You turned around to meet him, dumbfounded and still trying to understand what was going on, even more so when you saw the sweater he was wearing: fir green and depicting a penguin wearing a Christmas hat. You let out an incredulous laugh. “Did- did you do all this?”

Bucky lowered his gaze briefly and gave you a sheepish smile. “Pretty much, yeah. I’d hoped you’d sleep in. Gave me enough time to set everything up.” Your mouth opened and closed, unable to find words. “I-“ “Wait!” he interrupted. “There’s more.” He outstretched a slightly shaking hand and seeing that you didn’t respond, hastily withdrew it. Finally though, your body and mind seemed to have rebooted, and you grabbed his hand with both of yours. It felt hot against yours, hot and slightly raw. Bucky shot a surprised look from your intertwined hands to your face and you could’ve sworn that his cheeks blushed slightly. Is this even real?

Squeezing your hands slightly, he walked past you and into the living room, pulling you with him. Around the corner, out of your line of sight, there was a slightly smaller lounging area with the best stereo sound system Tony could get his hands on and without tv, designed for the numerous occasions you fancied actually spending time with each other and being able to face each other when chatting or playing games instead of just staring at a huge screen in unison. Now though, the bean bags had been moved to the side and in the center of the room stood – a tree. Not just any tree, but a fir tree about 10 or 11 feet high, almost filling up the room with its size and emanating that unmistakable scent that always took you back to fond Christmas memories. Next to it, on the ground and on several of the bean bags Bucky had piled up a seemingly endless number of boxes containing Christmas baubles of all sorts, ranging from the traditional ones to typical Christmas motives, Disney characters, and even the most absurd things such as very small-sized fruits and vegetables.

You couldn’t remember when your heart had last felt so light and full. If Bucky’s hand hadn’t anchored you, you might have just floated up through the ceiling and into the sky. And why not? Who knew what else might be possible after all this had felt so much like a dream already? Giving yourself no time to think about overstepping boundaries and the like, you threw yourself into Bucky’s arms, feeling rather than noticing his strong arms instantly enveloping your frame. “Thank you.” Your voice was muffled because you had buried your face in the crook of his neck and because you were close to crying again. Sensing your state, Bucky started tracing soothing patterns on your lower back and mimicking his movements, your hands started stroking his broad shoulders. “My pleasure, doll.”

He held you like that for several moments, lightly swaying to and fro, taking deep breaths with you. And after a while, when you’d quieted down a bit, you noticed that not only your heart threatened to jump out of your chest; Bucky’s heart beat a lot faster as well, hammering against his ribcage so much that you could almost feel it against yours. You drew back a little so you could see his face and were met with a look you’d never seen on him before, a look that went straight to your groin. His hands tightened on your back, like he was afraid to let you go, and your nose lightly brushed his. And just as you were about to close your eyes… his phone rang.

The noise startled you so much that you jumped in his arms and Bucky let out an audible sigh. “That’ll be Steve. Be right back.” With that, he let go of you to grab his cell from the kitchen and you felt like someone had just emptied a bucket of ice water over you and snapped you back to reality. More than that, you did feel cold. Had your body grown used to the heat radiating off him so quickly? Also, and that was the most important: What the fuck did just happen?

Bucky returned about 10 minutes later and found you in almost the same spot where he’d left you, now sitting awkwardly on one of the empty bean bags, desperately trying to regain composure. His heart still fluttered from being so close to you, and as he wanted this day to be anything but awkward, he’d spent a good 7 of those 10 minutes away thinking about how to proceed. In a manner he hoped would come across as relaxed, he sauntered over to the closest bean bag and picked up one the boxes filled with baubles. “Soooo”, why was his voice so squeaky? “let’s get started, shall we?”

He couldn’t see your heart slightly sink in your chest because the magical moment had officially passed of course; he just had eyes for the warm smile you offered him in return. “Sure.” You got up to take hold of one the boxes as well when he remembered something. “Hang on.” You raised your head and could make out something slightly mischievous in his orbs. “I won’t be the only one wearing an ugly Christmas sweater.”

—

4 hours later, any sign of awkwardness or discomfort between the two of you had officially gone to the wind. As instructed, you’d put on the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find (an awful mix of pink and gold in the shape of a Christmas elf with actual bells that jingled whenever you moved), Bucky had put on some music and you’d gone about your business. At some point (probably after your fourth cup of cocoa with rum and Bucky’s third pint of Asgardian mead he’d snatched from Thor’s quarters), you decided to forego any sense of aesthetics and just put up as many ornaments as would fit on the tree. As a result, it now looked as if the slightest gust of wind would make it collapse on the spot, but you two were oddly proud of your work. Taking cocoa and mead with you, you decided to have a small break and moved over to the living room area.

There were a few beats of comfortable silence, Sinatra softly buzzing in the background. Then, out of the blue, Bucky asked you to tell him your favorite joke. You were too tipsy to question how he’d come up with that, so you pondered his request for a moment and then answered. “I hate Russian dolls. They’re so full of themselves.”

Bucky sat up on his spot of the couch and gave you an odd stare that made you wonder whether he’d understood you at all, and then burst out of laughter, almost spilling his drink in the process and making you laugh in return. You’d never really heard his laugh, just the occasional snort when he deemed something worthy of a reaction, but this was a sound made from the gods themselves and you could listen to it all day, every day, for the rest of your life.

Slowly, his fit came down to a low, melodious chuckle. “Honestly doll, sometimes I want to kiss you all over.” “Don’t hold back.”

The words had come out of your mouth before you could stop them. They didn’t remotely sound as teasing or nonchalant as you had meant them to. They sounded sincere, almost desperate. Because they were. And suddenly, as you watched Bucky’s expression falter, you felt remarkably sober again. Oh god.

Part 2

Carefully, Bucky stood up, moved over and sat down next to you. “Are you serious about this, (Y/N)?”

Heat crept up your skin, all the way from the swells of your breasts to your ears. You’d honestly never felt that put on the spot. Unable to answer, your gaze fixed the carpet, hoping that if you stared long enough, maybe it would do you a favor and swallow you whole. Bucky was now less than inch from you, close enough for you to smell his shampoo, his breath fanning the side of your face, making things only worse for you. Your heart sank deeper and deeper until you could feel it in your stomach, heavy like a rock. This day had been going so well. Why did you have to ruin it with your stupid inebriated brain? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

And then you felt his flesh hand cup your face, softly turning your head to meet his eyes. Those beautiful, cerulean eyes. “Because I’d really, really like to kiss you.” Frowning, you shook your head, your synapses refusing to process that bit of information. You swallowed several times before you found your voice again. “Please don’t mess with me, Bucky”, you heard yourself whisper, at which Bucky violently shook his head. “I promise.” And then his lips were on yours and you kissed him back.

It started out innocently enough, slow, tentative kisses, allowing the other to back out in case they changed their mind. Only that he didn’t back out like you thought he would. And you didn’t back out like he thought you would. Realizing how effortlessly your mouths pressed against each other, how right his lips felt on yours, you gradually grew bolder. You turned slightly to mirror his position and your hands went up to his face, feeling the stubble on his chin and jaw before carding through the silky strands of his locks at the back of his neck. One hand in his hair, you let the other explore more of his body as you felt up his biceps, his back, his chest abs. A content hum escaped his throat which only spurred you on. One hand in his hair and one bunching up the fabric covering his chest, you pressed yourself closer to him. His grip on your face tightened as he opened his mouth and his tongue caressed your bottom lip. Greedily, you welcomed him in your mouth and let out a deep sigh as your tongues met for the first time and the two of you fought for dominance over the other.

Bucky’s hands wandered down your body to the hem of your shirt and his lips soon followed suit. You let out a whimper when he sucked at the sensitive skin of your pulse point, determined to mark you. You’d never really liked hickeys, but this was different. You wanted everyone to see, see what had happened between the two of you. While your hands tangled in his hair, his slowly made their way under the fabric of your sweater, exploring the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your belly, cool on your right side, burning on your left.

It was so much more than you’d ever dreamed of, almost too much to bear, and yet his touches only made you more impatient, more needy, more desperate to have him. “Bucky…” It was barely more than a sigh, but Bucky’s head shot up at the sound and his eyes met yours. “What’s it, sweetheart? Talk to me” You took a moment to take him in, tracing his glistening bottom lip with your thumb. “I need you.” Bucky pressed his forehead against yours. “I need you too, doll. So much. That’s why I’m so scared of messing up with you.” You took his face in your hands again and pressed a kiss to his forehead, his eyes closing at the sensation. “There’s no way in hell you can mess up with me, James. Don’t hold back. Take me.” Bucky let out a shuddering breath. “Please.”

It was like a switch had been flicked. Bucky leapt forward and buried you under his weight, making you sink into the soft cushions. Kissing you even more passionately than before, he positioned himself between your legs. The bulge in his pants now clearly noticeable, he started grinding down on you and the friction made you pool with lust. You let out an audible groan that made Bucky’s cock twitch. Steadying himself with his metal hand, he clumsily lifted your shirt up your body with his right hand so the fabric bunched up over your breasts. Eager to assist, you arched your back to unclasp your bra and pulled it up as well. Bucky’s hand immediately reached out to palm the newly exposed skin while his tongue darted out to massage your already swollen buds. He went from left to right and right to left, making you stick your chest out as much as you could, before suddenly taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking greedily on it. You cried out in pleasure and his dark eyes went to scan your face, lip drawn in between your teeth, eyes pressed shut, your breathing getting heavier by the minute. Too mesmerized by the sight of you, he didn’t notice your hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair move from his back to the front of his pants until you massaged his erection through the fabric, running your palm up and down his impressive bulge. He let go of your breast to take a deep breath and used his right hand to feverishly rub your clothed pussy, causing you to yelp in surprise. Your hand gripped his wrist, urging him to slow down. “Don’t want to finish off like that. Need you inside me.”

Bucky’s answer was an appreciative growl. He stood up, freeing himself first from the sweater that was becoming increasingly hot and then from his jeans and boxers. His size was impressive, the tip swollen and glistening with pre cum and you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together in anticipation.

“Uh-uh. Let me take care of that sweetheart.” His voice was now a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. Agonizingly slow, he unbuttoned your pants and pulled them off you, groaning when he got a glimpse of your drenched panties. Sitting back on his haunches, he pushed your knees apart and ran his palms up the inside of your thighs, then softly ghosted over the purple cotton, before hooking his thumbs under the waistband. “Show me your pretty pussy, (Y/N).” In one swift motion, the piece of clothing was gone, and Bucky let out a low hiss at the sight of your wet folds. “Fuck, doll. You’re ven more beautiful than I imagined.” You were at a complete loss for words, but Bucky didn’t give you time to respond anyway. He took a hold of his erection and coated in in your juices, your overstimulated body jumping at the sensation, before locking eyes with you and carefully sliding his tip inside you. You both let out a needy whimper when he filled you up, going deeper and deeper, your pussy obediently swallowing him, until he bottomed out.

Bucky was still on his haunches, giving you time to adjust to him, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You okay?” You nodded. “You can move.” Bucky started thrusting in and out of you, accelerating his pace when it became obvious that you were in as much pleasure as he. Soon, he was mercilessly fucking you into the couch, snapping his hips forward and pulling out until just the tip remained inside you, and then repeating his actions, over and over and over again. When he used his metal hand to draw circles on your clit, you were a whimpering mess beneath him, uttering incoherent curses and multiple variations of his name. You felt the familiar sensation build up in your gut and squeezed his hand to hold off, but he wasn’t having it, only increasing his efforts. With a muffled scream, you came all over his dick, your whole body shaking from the intensity of it. The sight of you coming undone combined with your cunt convulsing around his dick pushed Bucky over the edge as well and his thrusts became sloppier as he painted your walls with his seed and then collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and bathed in sweat.

—

Your second time together was slow and gentle, taking all the time you now knew you had, making sure to leave no inch of your lover’s body unattended to. The third time was rough again, Bucky fucking you against the shower tiles, cold water pouring down on you because you’d accidentally changed the setting when Bucky had lifted you and neither of you had noticed. The times that followed took place in various places of the Tower; the pool table where Bucky had found you the day before, the kitchen island, Sam’s bed (which seemed to give him a particular kind of satisfaction), in several of Tony’s cars, at one of the panorama windows, your front against the shining outline of the city (and the fake ice crystals) while Bucky took you from behind, all the while whispering sinful things to you that drove you insane, how often he’d sat in his room fucking his fist to your image, your plump lips that were just made for his cock, your curves that made your entire body jiggle when he drove into you, that beautiful ass of yours, imagining your sweet voice begging him to make you feel good. After all, it appeared he’d thought about you as often as you had about him.

—

You woke up to a rose-tainted sky and soft kisses peppered across the back of your neck, your shoulders and along your spine. You giggled into your pillow. Bucky’s strands brushing your bare skin gave you a tickling sensation. “You’re up early.” Bucky hummed into the crook of your neck, making your skin vibrate. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about before heading out for my run.” You turned around to face him, his hair tousled, eyes still glossed over from sleep. Nobody should be allowed to look that gorgeous. “What is it?”

“Steve and Wilson will be back from their trip in a few hours and they will pester me about my crush on you and whether I’ve finally done something about it.” He rolled his eyes and your smile grew wider. “What are you going to tell them?” Bucky reached for your hand and gently squeezed it. “I’d like to tell them that I asked you out on a date and that you agreed, but that wouldn’t be entirely true, would it?” You quirked an eyebrow. “So you’re asking me for permission to lie to your best friend?” Bucky laughed at that, that kind of laugh that made his eyes crinkle. “Y/N, would you like to go out on a date with me?”

You tilted your head to the side. “Depends. Does that mean we’re gonna have to sleep in separate beds again?” Bucky raised your hand to his mouth and softly kissed your knuckles, then he stretched his head and planted a kiss on your forehead. “No way. What do you say?”

“Yes.”

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written-on-the-trees · 4 years

Text

Machine Gun Kelly Fan Fiction - I'm A Demon In The Night, She's An Angel Dressed In White

Prompt: Angel/Demon

Word-count: 1600 words

Warnings: none

Description: Angels and demons like Andi and Colson don't always get along...and when they do, that doesn't mean Colson doesn't still love teasing his angel. At least until another demon turns up, and Colson's suddenly reminded not all of his kind take kindly to having angels around.

‘I'm a demon in the night, she's an angel with the white…’

Colson smirked as Andromeda blushed when she heard the lyrics. Like him, she knew they weren’t the original words he’d written, and he was pretty sure that - like him - she still heard what he’d first written.

Even if she didn’t immediately think them, she certainly saw him mouth them at her across the tour bus when the refrain came round a second time, and her cheeks only got pinker.

‘I’m a demon in the night, she’s an angel dressed in white, told her keep on all the lights, you can show me what you like…’

She was so fun to tease, Colson never got bored of doing it.

At first, it had been an attempt to get her to fuck off. Those lyrics weren’t just lyrics; Colson actually was a demon, and Andromeda actually was an angel. Specifically, she was the angel assigned to him to make sure he didn’t wreak havoc on earth.

Well, any more havoc than any of his human peers.

He wouldn’t lie, at first it had chaffed to have an angel around him almost constantly. Like all demons, the presence of a being to inherently good was uncomfortable. Andromeda was a young angel, and he was a young demon: neither of them had really known how to reign their auras in, and it had been a steep learning curve for both of them. After a few years, it no longer hurt either of them to be around each other, even when they were at their least contained, and Colson actually kind of liked the angel. Especially since she’d stopped being so stilted and allowed him to call her Andi.

She was still a little boring, but in a fun way. Instead of getting rid of her, now Colson involved her in all his shit because she was a welcome bit of calm in the chaos. He never would’ve thought he wanted any calm in his life, but when it was Andi, he really liked it.

That didn’t stop him from teasing her, though.

It was the best fun he could have with her considering she had no interest in him without his clothes on (or in fucking him with their clothes on, which he wouldn’t deny…he’d be into), other than the weirdly sincere moments they had when they were on their own that he didn’t like to think about because…reasons. It didn’t really matter; all that mattered was Andi was fun to be around, especially at parties where he just knew she was channelling all her discomfort into planning what good deed she was going to trick him to into doing tomorrow.

Of course, when that slight unease turned into real distress, Colson stopped teasing and got out of his seat, crossing the space between them with every intention of getting her to tell him what he needed to fix for her - only to have it made painfully obvious by the sight of two newcomers to the bus party.

An unknown demon? The fuck does he think he is, coming into my space uninvited?

Colson felt his power strain against the wraps he had it under, the instinctive response burning through the nice buzz he’d had going to leave him clear-headed and focused on the intruder.

The other demon didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he’d stepped into another demon’s territory…in fact, he looked ready for a fight, and it didn’t seem like his Heaven-appointed chaperone was going to be much use in stopping him. There was nothing the angel who accompanied the strange demon; he looked drained and weak, with none of the vitality Andi had to her…and if the way the other demon looked at her, Colson was guessing that the worn-down look was the result of a very deliberate effort on the demon’s part. It was clear the other demon had a certain way of dealing with angels in his vicinity.

Colson didn’t hesitate, he pulled Andi under arm and loosened the hold he’d had on his aura.

No-one was going to threaten his angel. Especially not some stranger who thought it was acceptable to walk into Colson’s domain and think about acting against his angel without so much as looking at Colson for permission.

He wouldn’t get permission either way; but not checking with Colson, the demon who owned this space, was insulting - and more than worthy of the silent threat that was Colson allowing his aura, his power, to seep into the air around them. It wasn’t much: just a warning, really, but the other demon looked so offended it was as if Colson had outright slapped him. He bore in his teeth in what, to a human, should’ve looked like a smile, but was very much a threat when it was done in conjunction with him unleashing his own aura.

All of a sudden, the full humans on the bus suddenly started looking uncomfortable, and a lot of them started to make excuses to leave or go to the back of the bus. Soon it was just Colson, Slim, Rook, and Andi, and this stranger and his angelic companion.

“Who the fuck d’you think you are, asshole?” Slim asked, the Nephilim getting up in the other demon’s face without hesitation, his own power filling the space.

More than used to each other, Colson’s power didn’t falter in the presence of Slim’s - or Rook’s when the fallen angel added his aura to the mix - but the other demon’s did…as did that of the angel accompanying him.

Colson almost - almost - felt bad about it, but he could feel the tension that was running under Andi’s skin, and knew without a doubt that it wasn’t a result of him, Slim, or Rook. This stranger was fucking with his Andi…so Colson felt no remorse in anything that resulted in this cunt getting what he deserved.

It was sentiment that was only strengthened when the Demon openly leered at Andi: “Heard there was going to be some fun at this party.”

“Not your kind of fun.” Colson growled: “Keep your eyes off of our girl, dipshit.”

Clearly lacking all good sense - as if Colson hadn’t already known that - the other demon just laughed: “Y’all claiming that strait-laced bitch? Damn, you lot are soft. No matter, though…I’m happy enough to go through all y’all to get her.”

Rook was pulling Andi back even as Colson was stepping up to the stranger, ready to put his ass in the ground, when a wave of cool power washed over them like a wave…and was a lot less kind to the stranger.

For all his bravado sneering at Colson, he was forced to look up at Andi from his knees - which was exactly where she’d put him. Because while angelic power felt like a cool breeze to Colson these days, it was clear the newcomer hadn’t allowed his angelic watcher to have any power in a while, and so Andi’s aura would burn him like the coldest ice. Ice that no demonic fire would melt.

Andi was used to demonic auras by now…more than that, when he and Rook allowed it, she could take strength from them the same as any fellow angel’s.

Colson got the sense Rook was just as happily lending her power as he was doing.

Of course, Andi didn’t bother to address the demon directly, the sneer she raked over him was enough to get her feelings across - and, oh, Colson remembered that sneer - before she turned to face the other angel: “You have been remiss in your duty. Fix it.”

The tired looking angel filled out suddenly - no doubt bolstered by the power Andi was giving him: “I apologise, sister, I shall escort him back to Hell immediately.”

“See that you do.” Andi treated him to his own sneer, before banishing them with a wave of her hand.

Even though Colson knew she didn’t have the strength to send them much further than the parking lot outside…he still fucking loved when she used her power.

It was so fucking hot.

So hot he just had to tell her about it: “Andi, baby girl, you are so goddamn hot - ”

“You blaspheme again, and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.” Andi threatened Colson, but all he did was grin;

“Yeah, you get mean with me, baby girl; you know I like it.”

Andi pulled a shocked face: “Colson! Don’t get turned on by people threatening you; you’re better than that!”

“No, he’s really not.” Slim shook his head: “At least not when it comes to you, feathers.”

“Slim!” Colson exclaimed, not enjoying his own turn at being shocked.

“What?” Rook asked, looking confused: “It’s not like Andi doesn’t know that you’re half in-love with her, is it?”

“What?” Andi shouted.

Slim laughed: “Apparently she was just as oblivious as he was…”

Colson knew he had two choices here…tell Andi he was absolutely not half in-love with her and have her fucking angelic abilities pick up on the lie, or take out his sudden frustration at his helpless situation on Slim and Rook…

It was a pretty obvious choice, really.

“You absolute motherfuckers - !”

“Colson!”

“I didn’t even blaspheme that time - ” Colson protested, only to be cut off by Andi’s hands cupping his cheeks and pulling him down for a kiss. A kiss he unashamedly took over, one hand on her cheek and the other on the centre of her back, pressing her close.

After that, he didn’t have much attention to spare on Slim or Rook.

He’d deal with them later…

…Maybe.

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