#refusing to look at fossils and risking being hot

[soulsborne-pilled]

ok so unless im getting nagged into hell and back im gonna accept the higher risk of getting sick and freezing

do you guys think wearing barely knee long shorts in late november would be a bad idea??

[alirhi]

random story snippet

@goblin-tea this is part of that story I was talking about/sending you bits of. I'll get into the better stuff (imo) in a bit, but this is a much better example of what the main characters are like than what I sent earlier lol

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto,” she mumbled, still clinging to Audrey’s hand as she nervously followed Fiona’s example and took a moment to study the immediate area.

“No shit, Sherlock,” the blonde growled, yanking her hand away. Rebecca could stand there like an idiot if she chose, but damn it! She was going to explore and find a way home, right now. Clearly, her friend’s oh-so-brilliant spell had backfired quite horribly, and now they were lost, with no idea of where they were, when they were, or what was going…

Her thoughts were jarringly interrupted when Rebecca suddenly let out a short, high-pitched scream, causing both of her friends to jump.

“WHAT?!” Spinning to face the taller woman, she took a deep breath in preparation to chew her out, and then promptly hid behind her. “…Is that a dinosaur?”

“Deinonychus,” Rebecca confirmed in a reverent whisper. Her screech had been from excitement, rather than fear; the giant grin on her freckled face was evidence enough of that. Though she knew she was the only one who cared about the details, she still explained in a rush, “Fast, smart, and very deadly carnivore from the late Cretaceous period, probably the basis for the oversized velociraptors in Jurassic Park… A raptor’s colorful feathers make it look like a ridiculous, disproportionate toucan, which is probably why the producers chose to make it look more like our friend here. Fossils of the deinonychus have never been found with any indication of feathers.”

“It does have feathers, you walking Wiki!” Audrey hissed, stepping back. No way in hell was she going to stand there like an idiot and get eaten by some parrot on crack.

Fiona remained rooted in place beside the other redhead, though she did stoop to pick up Rebecca's forgotten staff, just in case the curious animal decided to attack. A tiny smile played at the edges of her lips at the toucan comparison. It did sort of look like one, in a weird way…

Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, their nerdy friend nodded. “Yeah… Most of this type of dinosaur did, so paleontologists kinda figured the deinonychus would, too.”

The prehistoric bird of prey studied them, almost seeming to ponder something. Just as Rebecca was about to make a Philosoraptor joke, the fascinating – if deadly – beast twitched, letting out a series of loud clicking noises.

“…Huh. Whaddaya know. That dude on youtube was right…” An answering call echoed from somewhere to the left of the three shivering girls, and startled the amateur paleontologist out of her daze. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Both of her friends shot her nervous glances, reluctant to take their eyes off of the giant predator. Why wasn’t it moving?

“Run.” When Fiona shot her an incredulous look, Rebecca shook her head. Normally, yes, she would caution against any sudden moves around a wild animal, but this was different. More clicks from their right, answered by the one animal they could see, illustrated why. “He’s calling in reinforcements – run!”

That was all the motivation the shivering blonde needed. With a terrified shriek, Audrey turned and bolted into the forest, Rebecca and Fiona hot on her heels.

“I think it’s safe to assume,” the oldest woman gasped out, jumping over a fallen tree limb, “that we’ve somehow been sent back too far.”

“Ya THINK?!”

"Now's not the time to get snippy!” Her lungs were burning, her legs cramping, and though she could hear the creature gaining on them, she had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t putting forth much effort. She and her surrogate sister were both overweight to the point of obesity, and as such, speed wasn’t exactly on their side. In fact, it had been one of the things they’d hoped to go back and change; if they never got fat, they wouldn’t have to deal with the health problems associated with it or the hassle of constantly trying and failing to lose it.

Risking a glance to the side, she noticed Fiona keeping pace with them, and winced. She was hanging back to help them, she knew. By far the skinniest and healthiest of the three of them, she was lightning fast compared to the other two. While both her companions were morbidly obese, Fiona was lithe and fit, with legs like a gazelle. She was going slowly so she could defend them with that big stick if she had to. That was the only logical explanation Rebecca could come up with. The fact that the 'big stick' was her own walking stick was momentarily lost on the eldest of the three.

Mother above, she prayed desperately, if there’s even a trace of magic left in my blood, please, please unleash it now to give us speed.

Too angry and frightened to bother with logic, Audrey just rolled her eyes, yelping when it caused her to trip over a rock and nearly sent her sprawling. Fiona caught her by the arm and helped her steady herself, and she managed a tiny grateful smile, even as she snapped at the redhead, “Shut up! It’s your fault that we’re in our own personal Jurassic Hell, being chased by a fucking raptor!”

“Cretaceous!” Rebecca snarled, dodging around a rather intimidating thorny bush. “And it’s not a raptor, it’s-”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“It’s actually quite fascinating,” Rebecca asserted through wheezing gasps for breath, “if you think about it. We finally… get to see… proof… that dino…saurs… were more like…flightless…birds…than…”

“I don’t give a shit if we’re being chased by an ostrich or a crocodile!” Audrey screeched before her friend could finish. “If I end up something’s lunch, it’s your fault! And you know what? Fuck you! Fuck your stupid spell. Fuck your obsessions. Fuck your fucking imaginary friend and the horse you both rode in on for good measure!” Even in a life-or-death situation, somehow an old inside joke popped into her head, and she managed to suck in a deep enough breath to scream, "AND YES, HE'S NAMED 'SIDEWAYS'!"

“Guys, this really isn’t the time to be arguing,” Fiona pointed out as calmly as she could, glancing over her shoulder to see how they were faring. It wasn't good. She could deal with Audrey and her rather offensive temper tantrum later, she decided; escaping the turkey-sized ball of feathers and teeth chasing them took precedence.

“Sorry…” Pouting a little, the blonde risked a glance back, and nearly wet herself when she saw that their prehistoric pursuer was getting closer and closer. “Oh, fuck me…” Something brushed the side of her head, and she jumped, but it was only a leaf hanging down from another large tree.

Wait. Leaf…tree… She glanced up, relieved to see that the branch was low enough for her to grab hold. Circling around so that she wouldn’t get caught by their feathered menace, she pushed herself just a little bit more and managed to haul herself up onto the branch. “Guys!”

“What are you doing?!” Rebecca cried, having been too focused on running to notice where Audrey had gone. Fiona had been taking up the rear, focus switching between the others and the predator, but had been looking primarily in the latter’s direction for a few minutes. When she turned and saw only Rebecca standing there, she froze and glanced around. As they spotted Audrey in the tree, they also became aware of the fact that their enemy seemed a lot closer than before.

“Can raptors climb?” Audrey called out, wincing as she watched the scene unfold. Though she had long legs and strong, muscular calves, Rebecca outweighed her by a good fifty pounds, and it was visibly taking its toll. She was tiring, and the blonde just prayed she could pull herself up to safety before that thing or its as-yet unseen companions ripped her apart. She had plenty of reasons not to worry too much about Fiona.

“Come on.” Urging her tiring friend on, the skinnier redhead decided to take at least this one cue from Audrey and circled around the trunk of a massive tree, making sure Rebecca followed. It confused their attacker, bought them a little time, and kept them from getting out of earshot of Audrey.

At her friend’s soft, gentle reminder of what she’d been asked, Rebecca frowned. She wanted to remind the treed woman that they weren’t being chased by a velociraptor, but dismissed it as a waste of time. Instead, she considered her question as she doubled back.

Could this breed of dinosaurs climb? “I…I’m not sure,” she panted, one hand coming up to press against her chest. “I don’t think so. Their arms are probably too small to pull them up.”

“Then get your ass up here!”

They reached the tree, and Fiona quickly jumped up like it was nothing, setting the staff aside and braced across two nearby branches to keep it from falling. She and Audrey then each stretched out an arm, hands extended to grab Rebecca’s and pull her up as the youngest of the three continued, “And pray Jurassic Park was wrong about more than just the raptor’s appearance, cuz here he comes, and if he brought friends, you’re toast!”

“It’s not a raptor!” Rebecca reached for their hands, though she harbored little hope that she could actually get her fat ass up there. With or without their help, in her mind, she was dead.

“Please note, you’re the only one who cares,” the other young woman grumbled, grasping her friend’s wrist and exerting every bit of strength she had left to pull her to safety. Rebecca had virtually no upper body strength, and without Audrey and Fiona, would never be able to make it up onto the branch, despite being taller than both of them.

She almost dropped the larger girl when she suddenly yelped. Fiona glared at her, trying to compensate by taking more of their friend’s weight until she got a better grip on her arm.

Still a bit startled, she searched Rebecca’s eyes for some sign of what the hell that had been about, and found only fear. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Pull me up! Pull me up!” Refusing to say anything else, she gritted her teeth and pushed with all her might, kicking all the while. What she knew the blonde couldn’t see from her perch was that the dinosaur had caught up to her while they both struggled, and had grabbed hold of her calf with its sharp claws. Suddenly, she was glad for the long leather boots that, only moments before, she’d been cursing.

As the creature went for Rebecca again, Fiona grabbed the staff and whacked it as hard as she could over the head. It turned on her for a moment, but before it could do anything, Rebecca kicked it in the face. Taking advantage of the opportunity she’d just created, she stood on the hungry animal’s head and pushed off. At last, she was seated on the rough limb, with the deinonychus just barely out of reach. Gasping desperately for air as she turned and clung to Audrey, she glanced down at the bewildered creature and managed a breathless “thanks!” The moment Rebecca was safely out of reach, Fiona crept along the branch and headed for a different one. The tree was old and strong, but the three of them in the same spot could easily snap the branch and send them right to the dinosaur’s clutches.

Once she settled on another perch, they sat there for a moment, contemplating their luck, both good and bad, and watching the hungry animal watch them. All three knew that with a little effort, the thing could probably reach the two on the lower branch with those lethal, powerful jaws. Since it had clearly not yet figured this out, none of them really cared. Audrey was exhausted and sore, the entirety of her plump body throbbing unbearably now that adrenaline had begun to flee her as she had fled the dinosaur. Fiona was desperately trying to get her breath back, and though she felt fine otherwise, she knew she’d feel like she’d been hit by a bus in the morning. Rebecca, too, was exhausted and sore, though the pain in her muscles and joints hadn’t yet registered. Her gaze shifted from the restless animal to the long jagged tears in the back of her skirt, which she studied with a sort of numb, detached fascination.

“Well,” she said finally, still scarcely able to breathe. “That was exhilarating.”

Fiona laughed.

“Exhilarating?” Audrey gaped at her. “Are you fucking kidding me? We just almost became something’s soon-to-be-fossilized lunch!”

Shrugging, Rebecca glanced down at the prehistoric lizard…bird…thing. And suddenly she felt pity for it, and all the living things around them. After a long silence, during which the deinonychus finally lost interest and stormed off in search of easier prey, she finally murmured, “We survived, didn’t we? That’s more than anything else in this time period can say.” Where were its companions? The question bubbled up out of nowhere, and once formed, refused to be dismissed. She'd heard it call to someone, and heard an answer... Or had she? Had she imagined it all?

“We don’t belong in this time period!” Audrey's reply startled her out of her confused reverie. Her voice was shrill, expression aghast as she stared at the other woman as if she’d lost her mind. Perhaps that was obvious. For a second, she considered that maybe shehad gone mad, and this whole nightmarish situation was just a scene playing out in her ever-overactive imagination.

Then she shifted, and the ankle she’d twisted when she tripped on a rock sent a twinge of pain up her leg. The idea of any of this being anything less than horribly, undeniably real was scrapped, and she glanced around. She would merely search for makeshift supplies, she decided. She would rewrite Rebecca’s stupid spell, and get them back to the present. If this experience was meant to teach them anything, she was sure it was that the past can’t be changed, which she was suddenly ready to accept as Gospel truth. Life sucked, but they could make it better if they just focused less on whining about it, and more on actually doing something about it.

A strange weight on her mind drew her from her thoughts and she turned to look. Rebecca was staring at her.

Huffing a bit, she gestured to her shredded clothing. “That’s going to get infected. You’ll probably die before the week is out.”

“Thanks, Captain Optimism,” the other woman growled, rolling her eyes.

“We don’t have anything to wrap it with!” she snapped, interrupting her friend’s attempt to assure her that she was fine.

“I can rip something if you want,” Fiona offered, gesturing to her clothes.

“We have no idea what’s poisonous and what’s not,” Audrey continued to rant as if the other young woman hadn’t spoken, “We’re about sixty-five million years away from peroxide, never mind penicillin. And all of this is assuming you just get some kind of nasty infection. Every carnivore with at least one nostril can probably smell all that blood for miles. If we don’t get the hell back to modern times, you are going to die!”

To shut her up, Rebecca sighed and reached down, shoving her torn skirt out of the way to show the long scratches across her boot. She could see them alright through the slashes in her skirt, but clearly Audrey was less observant. “I’m not bleeding, genius. He was aiming to grab, not gut; he didn’t get through the leather.” She gestured, but wasn’t the least bit surprised when Audrey only shook her head and looked away.

“I’m just worried about you,” she whispered, much more subdued as the fight slowly drained from her. “You got lucky this time, but as long as we stay here, we’re in danger every second, from everything.”

As if only just then remembering that Fiona was there, she whipped around and stared up over her shoulder at her. "And how the hell are you still corporeal? How were you ever in the first place? I mean, nice to meet you, I guess? But what the actual fuck is going on?!"

[captainjimothycarter]

I would love to see a modern AU of Peggy's first Christmas away from home/the 40s! Something where she's feeling homesick and steve finds a way to throw her a 40s styled holiday

SO this is almost 5k again.

*insert your favorite reasons as to why Peggy is alive and young in the 21st century*

--

Peggy wouldn’t say it, even if Steve had asked, but something was wrong. She stared out the windows to their apartment in Stark Tower, she stared longingly at old photos of a lifetime ago that graced their walls. Once or twice he’s caught her muttering in her sleep about traditions. 

And Steve knew what was wrong.

It was the same thing that was wrong with him, to a sense. She was homesick for a lifetime that never came to exist. A lifetime that was yesterday, last week, last month, last year to them, but to the not-so fossils (as Natasha fondly called them) around them, the 1940s was just a lifetime ago. They never knew the feeling of homesickness that you couldn’t cure by being welcomed home or with a drink or photos.

This was a sickness that wore down on you and in Steve’s case (he couldn’t and wouldn’t speak for Peggy), it came with a crushing guilt. Hot and bobbling in the back of his throat, that weighed on his soul and made it increasingly difficult to function some days when he wasn’t busy with a mission.

And Christmas time? That magical year? It just made it all the worst. 

Not that Christmas wasn’t enjoyable in the 21st century, because it was. It was adorable with the twinkling lights, the heavy amounts of snow (even if the pair had an aversion to the cold), the kids running about with Iron Man-themed Christmas outfits, or even Captain America. But with Christmas came crashing memories that were hard to escape.

The worst were the parties. The mingling they almost were forced to attend because they were Avengers and had to keep up a brave face with the public and attend galas.

The last one was the hardest if you asked Steve.

“Is there a difference from then to now?” A voice at Steve’s elbow asked. 

He paused in his conversation with Natasha and Bruce, seeing the way Bruce’s face pinched as he turned to look at a short reporter at his elbow. The guy wore wired glasses and had his phone in hand, already turned on to record Steve’s statement.

The blonde sighed heavily and looked around the room for Tony, seeing him caught up in the corner with a few of his own reporters. And unlike Steve, Tony enjoyed the spotlight. 

For a split second, Steve wasn’t standing in the 21st century anymore. He was wearing a wool, heavy uniform, clenching a harshly wrapped present as he watched a few reporters talk to Howard Stark and Peggy Carter. He lingered on the edge, just out of the sight of the reporters. Any person with some amount of sense might’ve run away given the chance, considering how bad Captain America was at interviews, but this was one of the last few chances he’d get to give Peggy her present.

It was nothing much, but she’d complained about the rose water she used was about out and she didn’t know how she’d get anymore. He was just so lucky he’d found a shop the other day.

Blinking harshly, Steve found himself back in modern-day, with Natasha holding onto his elbow and Bruce in front of him. He blinked slowly and tried to give Bruce a sheepish smile. “I’m fine. I just...what?”

The reporter was still behind Bruce, giving an annoyed look that he was interrupted in his questioning because how dare Steve Rogers has a flashback when he’s asking a question.

Bruce didn’t look too convinced, leaning over Steve’s slumped form to whisper something into Natasha’s ear. He could hear, his ears were roaring. She immediately disappeared, leaving Bruce to sit him down.

“I’m afraid…” Bruce began, turning to look at the reporter. “Captain Rogers isn’t available for an impromptu interview. If you’d like to schedule one, please see Miss Pepper.”

“No, no Bruce, it’s fine.” The last Steve wanted to do was somehow start a discourse amongst the media. Not that the Avengers would always be in their favor, of course, but he didn’t want to risk it. “Let him talk. What was your question again?”

The man huffed and refused to sit. He still held his phone tightly in his hand. “The difference. What was the difference between there and now?”

“I don’t...understand.” Steve’s mouth opened and closed, his tongue sticking out to lick at his dry lips. “The difference of what?”

“Your life before, to now! What is it like?”

He wanted to groan and cover his eyes, feeling the start of a headache that shouldn’t even be able to exist to come to life. “Look…”

His mouth opened to explain just where the reporter could shove the question but thankfully he didn’t have to.

His wife stepped in.

Peggy dressed in a bright red, cocktail dress. It hung to her knees, white lace just barely seen underneath. She wore a white, fluffy shawl pinned in place by a star broach that looked just about as old as the fossils were. Her hair was pinned back in perfect curls, hazel eyes were boring into the reporter. 

“If you cannot read a situation, Mr. Hynes, then I’m afraid you’re a shit reporter,” Peggy huffed, rolling her eyes. She stepped closer to Steve, laying a hand on his shoulder and giving him a comforting squeeze. “You’re just about as bad as the reporters before you. If you wish to know about how we are struggling to adapt or the difference in times through our eyes, then there are plenty of other blogs, reports, and even Mr. Parker’s little videos that can explain the situation better than us repeating ourselves. Which I tire to do. My husband is just far too polite to tell you to leave so I’ll do it for him. Leave.”

She took a step closer and rather it was the look on her face or the anger that she held in her voice, the reporter bolted. Steve sighed heavily and slacked into Peggy’s side. He smiled at her, reaching to take her hand. She easily fell into him. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here…” Peggy sighed, shooting Natasha and Bruce a thankful look. “I was...lost in thought, but I am told so were you. I think it’s time to retire for the night.”

There were no if, and, or buts as she took Steve’s hand and lead him out of the gala. They both breathed a sigh of relief and he kissed her softly in the little hall. It was brightly decorated with strands of silver garland and lights. Christmas music poured from the room.

“I think…” he began but stopped. She tilted her head to look up at him. “I think we...should talk.”

Peggy’s head nodded sharply, lips pursed together. 

--

“So,” Steve sighed once they were both out of their gala clothes and into something more comfortable. They sat on the couch, a warm tea in Peggy’s hand and a beer in Steve’s. Not that he could drink. “Do you want to talk about what’s been bothering you?”

Her mouth opened, tinted pink now that the makeup was washed off. Her curls sat around her rather than pinned into place. Despite the relaxful atmosphere, she looked tenser than before. He’s seen her look more relaxed fighting the Alien of the Week than with him.

“Peggy.” He turned to face her, taking her hands gently into his own. “Talk to me and d-don’t say nothing, because it’s not nothing. You’ve been out of it and so have I, but you…”

He shrugged, not sure how to finish the sentence without just blurting out everything he was feeling. This was about Peggy, not him. 

“I just…” She started, then stopped and sighed. Her shoulders slumped and she fell into his side. Her face pressed into his side. “I miss home.”

Steve’s face buried into her hair, breathing in the soft scent of lavender that seemed to linger in her hair. His arm tightened around her until she was buried into his chest. He didn’t want to let go, Peggy was home to him.

“I know,” he breathed, feeling his eyes burn with tears he’s fought off for so long. “I know, I know, my darling. I know.”

Her small hiccup turned into a soft sob and her shoulders shook. That broke his heart even more. It should be a crime for Peggy to sob, to have anything to cry over. It made him want to tear the world apart and stitch it back together, but what could be done to fix the problem? How could he fix a problem that he didn’t create?

“I do too,” he eventually whispered, not looking up when she made a sound. “I miss home too but what more can we do than miss it, hm? There’s no time travel. We’re here, but at least we’re together.”

Peggy’s face was tinted red as she pulled back, sniffling into Steve’s hand that cupped her face. “I know you’re right and I-I feel foolish about sobbing over this, but I can’t help but miss it. Our friends, our family, everything. The silly traditions war brought about us. You must think…”

“I think nothing of the sort,” Steve breathed, sitting up so Peggy was back against the couch. “Pegs, I love you. I miss it too but you…you got to live it. I did not. I had the sanctuary of being frozen and I don’t know what’s worst. Being alive and living all the decades or waking up in a new century. And...running through two walls…”

“Three walls, two teams of Agents, a glass window despite a perfectly working door was beside you, and into Time Square. It took me over fifteen minutes to track you down.” 

Her pink lips quivered at the memory of meeting her beloved again. She should’ve been there when he woke up but duty calls when you’re a director and Steve’s timing as usual went against all she had planned.

“Yes, anyway…” The tips of his ears started to turn pink. “Either way, it’s okay to miss what we once had, Pegs. It’s okay, you don’t have to be upset about crying over that. We can’t help it. We can just...bring it here with us.”

Taking the fuzzy blanket, a gift from Tony, she wrapped it around her frame and smiled softly into Steve’s side when he wrapped her into another hug. “Do you remember our first Christmas together...shortly after you rescued Bucky?”

“You mean the Christmas I got both of us into the river? I swore you would’ve been so mad at me…”

“I should’ve been but your immediate need to take care of me despite you were starting to freeze yourself and your constant apology warned it off.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that we’re both terrible at kissing.”

“It is your fault because you tripped!”

“I tripped because I’m an oaf in giant shoes.” He snorted into her hair, feeling Peggy rolling her eyes at him. 

“Yes, well, it seems to become a tradition after that… The next Christmas, you fell into the flooded ditch. Sergeant Barnes had to scrub you clean. No one else would get near you. The next one after that we were on a mission with the...the Howling Commandos and the roof flooded-”

“That wasn’t my fault. Jim chose the farm to take sanctuary in. We didn’t know it was going to storm!”

“And yet, all the water came down onto just you.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “And the last Christmas…” Steve felt his throat tighten. “I was going to ask you to marry me but…”

But Bucky had died, then the Howling Commandos were called on a mission, and he was forced to leave his gift of chocolate cake in Peggy’s tent. 

Then he died…

Peggy’s arm tightened around him and she pressed a long kiss to his jawline. He could feel her heart beating against his. 

“We’re together now, you’re right. I’m grateful for that, please never think that I am not. I just miss it sometimes. The popcorn strings on the trees, the simpler music that isn’t so...so barbiarcly loud.”

“Handmade ornaments, my ma and I used to make them. She’d hand-sewn a tree skirt. Getting Christmas Trees from the orchid. We’d make a fort and wait for Santa. I always fell asleep. We couldn’t afford much - ma and I, but she’d handmake me presents every year. Teddybears, clothes, even one year she worked overnight just to make me a pirates costume.”

“Oh, darling that’s so precious.”

Peggy’s eyes were misty as she imagined younger and skinnier Steve running around in a little pirate costume, wearing it out until he was far too big for it. 

“My brother and I used to turn off all the lights and light candles in the house. An even number so we didn’t have to fight. I’d wear a halo made of candles, fake candles, and a white dress. We’d sit by the fire and read stories. We’d string up the Christmas Tree. We’d have dessert first Christmas Day.”

Steve smiled into Peggy’s hairline again, tilting her head up so he could press a long kiss to her lips. “There’s nothing saying we can’t bring that here.”

--

Pepper and Natasha showed up on their doorstep bright and early the next morning, much to Peggy’s dismay. Be as she may, the greatest agent and director of Shield, Peggy Carter was not a morning person. Not even with Steve. It took half a pot of coffee before she’d even speak sometimes. Not that the pair cared, they just whisked Peggy away, without explaining as much as an answer as to where they were going.

I hate you. PC

Uh-huh. SR

You did this. PC

And what exactly did I do? SR

You had Pepper and Natasha kidnap me. PC

Kidnap isn’t the word I’d use. You willingly went. SR And no, I didn’t. We have some rare downtime, Pegs, hang out with our friends. SR

You’re up to something, Rogers and I want to know what it is. PC

Whatever it is, Mrs. Rogers, you will just have to wait and see. SR

I hate you. PC

I love you too. SR

Steve sighed as he set the phone down and rubbed at the back of his neck. He felt Sam brush by him with a box of items, followed behind an amused looking Bucky and Clint.

“Don’t,” Steve breathed at Bucky. “Don’t you say it.”

“I’m not saying nothing,” Bucky mused. “Just that Pegs is gonna kill you for this.”

“I would kill you for this,” Clint declared, picking up a dusty, plaid, looking ribbon before Steve snatched it from him. “Hey!”

“Careful with this stuff, okay? I know, I know what it looks like but Pegs is just...homesick.” His eyes fell to Bucky, who to a point could understand. His face slacked and he turned over the ribbon in his hand. “I’m just trying to be…”

“A good, devoted husband that’s sickening in love,” Sam commented, making Steve roll his eyes. “We get it, man. We do. It’s okay. Just tell us how to help. Tony is already looking for the music. We got a projection set up for the outside.”

“And Pepper, as of ten minutes ago, has secured the perfect dress for Pegs,” Bucky mused, turning his phone to show it to Steve. “Alright, Stevie, where to?”

--

“Natalia, what is all this?” 

The name purred from Peggy’s mouth as the limo (of all things, of course, a Stark would give a limo ride back to the Tower) came to a stop and Happy eagerly open the door. She was met with the sight of Avengers Tower lit up in lights. 

Christmas lights lined the exterior of the building, lighting up every other floor and frame and while yes, the bright white lights and the flood lamps were beautiful, what caught her attention the most was the red carpet, the trees lining the walkway to the normally heavily guarded entrance. The exterior looked…

“The Stork Club,” Peggy gasped, covering her mouth with a shaken hand. A date that would never come to be, somewhere she had foolishly waited for her date. Howard had walked her home after a brief dance with her and Dugan. 

Bittersweet memories.

The air felt colder around her as Happy’s hand curled around hers and she was eased out of the car, feeling her legs to be made of ice. A figure was walking towards her, the lights surrounding him almost made him look like a walking shadow. She’d know that build anywhere.

Steve stood in front of her, wearing a beautiful, cashmere suit. The dark blue in the jacket lit up his eyes and the soft blue of the tie brought out the green flecks in them. Compared to him, she felt underdressed almost. Her dress was the shade of red she’d once worn in a bar in the middle of a war. It flowed around her ankles, a soft trail left behind her as she was spun around in his arms. Her hair was pinned up perfectly, Pepper had carefully studied hair tutorials, as did Natasha with the makeup. 

It seems Steve got a little sense of fashion from Sam and Tony. Lord knows Bucky and Clint had none.

“St-Steve,” she breathed, nearly falling into his chest from shock alone. “What is this? What’s going on?”

“A night to remember,” he purred in answer, bending down to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Would you care to join me, my love?”

Her arm looped around his without hesitation, shooting one last look at Natasha and Pepper, both women looking pleased as she was lead inside.

It was the music that caught her off guard. Shortly after Thanksgiving, the tower started to be filled with obnoxious Christmas music. Too loud for her taste. Now it was filled with soft jazz, the music and trombone sounds made her heartache more than Peggy could describe. 

Inside the lobby, everything was gone. Gone were the desks, chairs, plants, and even the large Christmas tree. It had been replaced with a much smaller receptionist desk, a red curtain blocking their entrance. She could hear the sounds of a fountain nearby. A small Christmas tree awaited in the corner and behind the desk sat an amused looking Clint.

“Name?” He asked as if he hasn’t saved Steve’s life or hers a hundred times over. 

“Mr. Rogers,” Steve replied, squeezing Peggy’s hand. “And Mrs. Rogers. I know we’re a bit early for our reservation…”

“For once,” Peggy snorted, making Clint snort into his hand.

“Better late than never,” Clint replied, waving them through the self-opening curtains. “Your diner reservation is just in the elevator.”

Behind the desk, Peggy saw the large fountain. It was made of marble, carved into angels blowing trumpets, so the trumpets spit the water onto the fountain. A Christmas tree decorated elegantly sat behind it, a few presents wrapped in burlap or even newspaper, old newspaper at that, sat tucked underneath it. She barely had time to admire it before she was whisked away and towards the elevator.

This is the only thing that remained the same, smooth panels with no cranks or loud noises. She can understand why, both she and Steve were sensitive to loud noises. 

Her mouth opened, taking a step back to admire Steve’s look and the smile on his face. “I-”

His head shook and she felt her shoulders slack. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Thankfully (she’s still unsure if so), the doors answered for her and opened up to what would’ve been their common dining room. Instead, it still held the floor to ceiling windows that welcomed them to a night sky. Not the normal skyscrapers, New York skyline, but instead one that looked...well, 70 plus years ago. The floor had been replaced with a hardwood that made her heels click and clack as they were lead deeper inside the room. The spot where their living room had been with comfortable couches and tv-sat a dance hall with couples she’s seen around the Tower weaving back and forth, in each other���s arms. They were dressed similarly and even a band played a few feet away from them.

Instead of being caught up on that, Steve whisked her towards the communal kitchen, a few tables sat out and one with the name Rogers on a placard sat for them. He held the chair out for her, Peggy still a bit stunned as she sat down. He had barely just sat down before Sam walked over in his little, dapper suit, a tray in hand.

“You look dashing, Sam,” Peggy purred, feeling her cheeks flush. “Did you cook?”

“Do you trust anyone else to cook? I wasn’t about to let Stark hire some foolish chef. Besides, I owe ya’ll a favor.” He pulled the top of the tray off and smiled at the delightful look Peggy had. “As requested, dessert for dinner. My mama’s homemade Chocolate Cake, Cheesecake, Carrot Cake, Chocolate Mousse, and well...the list goes on and on. Steve did say you loved chocolate. Oh, yes, and sticky toffee pudding. That is if a certain James didn’t eat it.”

“He was fond of it years ago,” Peggy chuckled, helping Sam take the plates off to spread across their table. “Really, Sam, none of you had to go through this trouble for me.”

“Of course we did, Pegs. You deserve it. Now, for dinner, there’s pecan-crusted, honey salmon or duck with roasted potatoes and greens.”

“The duck, for both of us,” Peggy answered, sharing a look with Steve. “The last time Steve had salmon, he choked on it, so he avoids fish.”

“It’s not my fault Pinky didn’t clean it right,” Steve grumbled, shooting Sam a thankful look. “Again, thanks, Sam.”

Picking up a fork, he held a forkload of Sam’s chocolate cake to Peggy’s lips. His eyes were on those lips as she took the heavenly bite and sighed with relief at the taste exploding on her tongue. 

“Steve, what is this?” 

She pulled back to look at his face, unaware that a bottle of wine and glasses had been set between them. 

Steve’s shoulders shrugged, busying himself with pouring them a glass of wine. “You said you missed...back then. I missed our date. I wanted to make it right. I...I know what you said, that by being alive I’ve more than made it up but still…”

Peggy had to blink hard to clear the mist from her eyes, reaching out to caress his hand and bring it to her lips to kiss the knuckles softly. “And you went through all this trouble for me?”

“You’re worth it.”

Lord, she was going to sob by the night was over, wasn’t she? Steve was determined to make her cry.

--

Their meal was wonderful, as always when Sam cooked. Even the duck that he had brought out with a too-happy of Bucky’s help. It was excellently cooked and moist and the flavors, Peggy could’ve kissed Sam for how good it was and she was sure Steve was in an agreement.

Bucky came back around to help clean the table off, returning once more to take Peggy’s hand. She gave him a skeptical look as she was taken off of her seat and lead onto the little, dance hall. Instantly the band started to play something sweet and slow. Something she shouldn’t be dancing with James.

“What are you doing, James?” Peggy asked, her head laid on his shoulder as he held her one hand, the other wrapped around her frame. They swayed gently from side to side. “Tryin’ to make Sam jealous?”

“That man doesn’t get jealous,” Bucky snorted, rolling her eyes. “No, dollface, Steve always felt bad how you avoided dancing because of him, so…” He shrugged and for God’s sake, he was blushing.

James Buchanan Barnes was blushing.

“So you decided to fulfill that for me. Thank you.”

She was spun around the second her lips touched his cheek and right into Sam’s arms. She laughed as he dipped her before swaying with them. Bucky had disappeared up the elevator and she could’ve sworn he said Steve’s floor. 

“Sam, I wanted to thank you again…”

“Nothing to it, Pegs. You deserve this little night out and I think we all had our own fun planning it, especially Steve. You should’ve seen him, getting all Captain-like, giving out orders. I think Bucky was close to knocking him out, he was stressing us all out. The guy just wants this to be perfect.”

“It is. Even without all this...every last detail, it’s perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so.” The voice purred behind her. A hand was held out in her vision and Peggy took it, being lead right back onto the middle of the dance floor.

Steve dipped her lower than Sam and kissed her. A soft, loving kiss that made every inch of her nerves scream to life. She sighed into his lips as she was tilted back up and swung back to her feet. A giggle escaped her as they swayed.

They’ve danced more than a few times since Steve being found but this was different. This was a man trying to play to make up for lost time and she loved him for it. She loved him even if he didn’t try this. 

“So, what do you think, Mrs. Rogers?”

The way he purred her surname still made her toes tingle, a shiver running down her spine. 

“I think you’re an absolute madman for dragging our teammates into this. I think you’re an idiot for crashing the plane, but…” She pulled her head back from his chest to look into his eyes and smiled, feeling the tears start to burn her eyes. “I know that I love you and this is amazing Steve, so...so lovely, so beautiful. I-”

She started to tear up again and Steve held her tightly, kissing her cheek. “I know,” he breathed. “Let’s not make tonight about lost time and just enjoy this because I know the guys are going to make me pay hell for this later.”

“You deserve it, don’t you?”

“I...might’ve gotten ahead of myself, but it’s worth it for you.”

--

“Steve, what in the world are you doing?”

Peggy’s laugh was addicting, it caused a rush to flood his system. Steve couldn’t help his own snorting chuckling as he kept his hands securely over Peggy’s eyes and marched them slowly into their shared living space. 

“Keeping a surprise from you. Bucky, Bruce, and Thor helped finish this last minute.”

Removing his hands, Peggy finally got to see what was behind curtain number three.

A fort sat in the middle of the living room. Huge blankets drooped over chairs and the couch cushions. Inside was large blankets and pillows. It was surrounded by fairy lights, the same fairy lights decorated around their apartment. Garland and tinsel decorated the walls. A large Christmas tree sat in the corner, adorned with even more garland, homemade ornaments, and popcorn strands. A projector displayed from the ceiling, a movie already waiting to play. 

“Steven…” Peggy couldn’t help the soft sob that escaped her lips, her hand covering her mouth. This looked like her childhood dream, just more modern. He’d taken the time to take things out of her life and to bring it to life.

“I know it’s not much, especially compared to before but…”

He was silenced with a heavy kiss on his lips. It made him want to faint into her arms. 

“You stop that. It’s everything I could’ve hoped for and more. You even have the fireplace up and look, JARVIS has prepared us books to be read to us. Hot cocoa.” Even outside, despite the weather, it projected a blanket of snow in some English cottage. 

Steve’s face was a bright shade of red. He made a shrugging motion and rubbing a hand over his neck. “Tis nothing...Why don’t you go change into something comfortable and we can relax after that night of dancing?” Steve never thought he’d be thankful for two bathrooms, normally they shared one, and shared one shower together but he wanted to give Peggy time to calm down. He emerged later with wet hair, sweatpants, and a t-shirt thrown on. He wasn’t surprised to find Peggy already waiting for him in the fort, curled up around hot cocoa. She passed him a mug and crawled into his waiting arms.

“Thank you, Steven,” she yawned into his shoulder. “For giving me one last night of our past. Thank you for understanding everything.”

“I told you,” he breathed, setting his mug aside and kissing her hair. “You’re not alone in this. I’m glad I could give you a night to remember.”

“Mhm..”

Steve chuckled at the sound of a sleepy Peggy, laying them back amongst the covers. JARVIS switched the lights off without asking, the only light in the room was the fireplace. He yawned and kept his arms around Peggy, rubbing up and down her backside.

“JARVIS, can you play the first book?” He asked, keeping his voice low. 

“Of course, Mr. Rogers. Now playing The Night Before Christmas. T’was the night before Christmas…”

[gameofdrarry]

Ides of Drarry: Introducing Team Dragon

TEAM ACTIVITY [ ONE ]

As you may well be aware, Gringotts takes great pride in protecting your currency and valuables. To do this, we employ the services of creatures best meant for protecting your artefacts. As we value diversity among our patrons at Gringotts bank, we allow patrons to choose their own creatures to protect their vaults. However, due to downsizing, we must have patrons share creatures. Please choose a creature you would like to protect your vault. 

We will later use this creature to identify your vault categorization. 

CHOOSE A CREATURE OF PROTECTION TO REPRESENT YOUR TEAM

NAME YOUR PROTECTOR AND SUMMARISE ITS LIFE HISTORY 200-500 WORDS

CREATE AN IMAGE OF YOUR PROTECTOR  

TEAM TWO [ TEAM DRAGON ]

Misty is an Antipodean Opaleye Dragon. She began her life as an egg in New Zealand. Before she was hatched she was taken from her nest by a curious muggle, who mistook her egg for a fossil while her mother was away. 

She was brought far from her nest and her homeland and was deposited in a thing called a “museum”. Without the warmth of her nest and her mother, she coiled up in her egg and refused to come out. But at night when all of the lights went out and the sounds stopped, she heard a tiny scratching at the edges of her egg. She tried to ignore it, but then there was a tiny warmth near the base of her egg. Day after day she stayed in her egg, refusing to come out. And night after night there was a scratching at her egg and an odd warmth against her. One night, even after all the loneliness and fear she felt at being in her egg, she decided that the risk it took to remain there was more frightening than the risk it took to go out. In the end, whatever was out there was unavoidable unless she planned on staying in there forever. So that night, when the scratching happened, she scratched back. She used her head to push at the shell and when she broke through, she found a tiny creature looking back at her. Grey, covered in fur and with big ears and whiskers. She climbed out and shook off the slime that had sheltered her in her egg. He licked her face clean and stared at her. After a moment he seemed to make a decision and headed toward an opening in the case she was put in. When she stayed in place, he turned around and licked her face again, clearly intending that she follow. She did without question. 

Months passed, and they grew together. Well… Misty grew a bit more than her friend did. She grew a LOT more than her friend did. But they always protected each other. She was not the sort of creature that could hide easily, but Spencer was. He was clever and small and able to get into small spaces and open back doors so they could sneak food and open rooms to sleep in when it was cold.

Once her wings grew large enough, she began to learn to fly.  She careened about, with Spencer on her neck holding on for dear life as she crashed into things and tried to understand her own coordination. 

One day as she was trying to land she fell headfirst into a rubbish bin in the alley she and Spencer had been nesting in.

The sound drew the attention of the two-legged things that they were hiding from. There was a lot of sound and she put Spencer under her wing and curled up tight, trying to keep them both safe as they were crowded by all of the thundering frightening creatures. She snarled, and something hot came out of her nose. It scared her. She’d never done that before… But the things backed away. 

Then one stepped forward slowly. He held out his hand. Misty didn’t move. She kept curled up as tight as she could. 

But then Spencer popped his head up from under her wing and looked at the other creature. It made nice sounds, and Spencer ran down her back to go and look at it. The thing picked Spencer up and petted him. 

Misty was confused, the thing didn’t look like it was trying to hurt her. It didn’t hurt Spencer… She sniffed and looked at it. Its top part was bright red and its eyes were blue. It seemed nice enough... It made sounds that sounded like CHARLIE. 

Charlie became her friend too. He took her and Spencer to a nice place where there were other dragons. He fed her and took care of her and he never tried to take Spencer away. 

One day he showed her a new creature that looked just like him! He also had a red top part. Charlie let the other one pet her head and he said BILL. 

She liked Bill. He was also nice. After a while, Bill took her and Spencer with him to new places. She was important. She and Spencer looked after Bill while he went to dangerous places. 

Eventually, Bill met a nice lady with a white top part and he stopped going on adventures. He brought Misty to a big white building, where he made a big nest for her underground. It had everything! Plenty of space to sleep and lots of food and a little hole in the wall just for Spencer to sleep in. It even had a big hole in the top where you could see the sky. 

Misty could fly up and out and smell the air. All she had to do was protect the things behind her. That was important. That was her job.

Bill and Charlie came to see her and fly with her and Spencer almost every week. 

She didn’t know who took her from her home when she was an egg, but she felt very lucky that they did because if they didn’t, she would never have made these new friends and have

this very important job. 

[imaginetonyandbucky]

I'm not sure if you've already done something similar, but I would love to read a fic where Steve fell off the train and Bucky crashed the plane, so Tony and Bucky meet when Bucky is defrosted and how they cope with finding Steve alive.

Written by @xtaticpearl​

A/N: There are two chapters to this story due to its length. Warnings for mention of dark thoughts, mild swearing, dubious morality in tracking someone.

A Home Of Mourners

Chapter 1:

They met in a maelstrom of gods.

If Tony were a poet, he would have described it as that, with the irony of seventy years in a single sentence. If Bucky were an artist he would have appreciated the imagery of that description, a quiet afterthought of a violent past in a new future. Unfortunately, neither was either, and they both described their first meeting as a mess, in maybe varying words.

Bucky had a shadow to fill, of his dead best friend, and Tony had a legend of myths to stand up to. Neither had been in the best mindsets and it had shown when Bucky had called Tony a cheaper Howard and Tony had scoffed at Bucky as a mockery of Captain America. It had been ugly, a vicious fest of anger and bottled grief in outpour, and Loki’s scepter hadn’t helped in the least. Still, Bucky had called the shots and Tony had pushed a nuke into a wormhole. They had saved a city and become a planet’s heroes.

They hadn’t become friends. So it wasn’t high on Bucky’s mind to call on Tony Stark when he discovered the true identity of the Winter Soldier in DC and was told to stop him rather than save him.

“It’s not an option,” Bucky snarled quietly with cold seeping into his tone, staring down Fury in an abandoned bunker as his hands shook and mind reeled, “Taking him down is not an option. This isn’t Steve, this is someone, something else. I’m not going to abandon him.”

Watch out for the break

“I don’t think you’ll find another choice, Captain,” Fury shot back, never one to back down from an intimidation even if he was in terrible shape, “If he stops you, he’s not going to think it’s a choice. Are you ready to risk a million lives on a bet that won’t take?”

Bucky opened his mouth to tell Fury where to shove his bet when another voice spoke up.

“There’s no need to be so dramatic, Nick,” Tony called out as he handed over the decoder chips to Hill, eyeing the Director of SHIELD with fake amusement, “Honestly, we all know that I’m the gambler in this team. Cap here is pretty much a surety, and that’s probably one of the reasons you decided to finally grace us with this information.”

“We can’t carry any more complications to this mission,” Fury shot Tony a quelling look, “We’re already on the weaker ground right now.”

“Wouldn’t exactly say that,” Tony shrugged and shot Natasha a quick grin, danger lacing it. Bucky didn’t know how much actual friendship Natasha and Tony shared but they had a level of strange understanding that had led Natasha calling on Tony for the mission, despite Bucky having said otherwise.

“Sir,” Hill interrupted before Fury could blow a fuse and Bucky focused on their conversation, putting any thoughts of Tony Stark defending him away.

The mission was a disaster of high proportions, and Bucky knew that well enough without Sam trying to subtly call attention to it on the comm. Natasha and Fury had taken care of Pierce and Sam had been taken down by Steve after the first chip had been replaced. Iron Man was still keeping the SHIELD weapons at bay and holding fort in the air, giving Bucky time to replace the last chip. It sounded easy, but as Bucky stared at a blank-faced Steve ready to kill him, he knew that it was anything but that.

“Don’t make me do this, Steve,” he pleaded without moving an inch from the mainframe, blocking it even as his heart choked his throat, “I don’t want to hurt you, punk, but I can’t let you hurt others too.”

Steve had never listened even before the war but now that he was this, this machine that Hydra had created, it didn’t even register. They fought in circles, Bucky using every last dirty trick he knew to push Steve off without actually hurting him and Steve using every trick to actually hurt Bucky. When Steve’s hand clenched around his throat, Bucky let the shield fall and tried to get a word in, anything to get his best friend back. He fell with a crash for the second time in his life, calling out for a forgotten memory as he blacked out.

When he came to consciousness, Sam was by his side and a shield rested against the wall.

“Stark dropped it off in the morning,” Sam said without asking, peeling an orange lazily, “Said they didn’t need another frozen fossil for seventy years.”

“Funny guy,” Bucky rasped, swallowing the dryness from disuse and winced when his jaw hurt, “What happened?”

“We saved DC,” Sam shrugged a shoulder and shot Bucky a smirk, “No thanks to your dumb ass, really.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Bucky huffed before he sobered and eyed Sam carefully, “You know where he is?”

“Who, Stark?”

“Sam -”

“Rogers, yeah, I know,” Sam nodded, meeting Bucky’s eyes with a pause, “He’s safe.”

“Safe,” Bucky repeats, mind whirring over implications, “Safe, what does that mean? Where is he?”

It hurt viscerally, a twisting burn of hot metal in his gut, when Bucky learnt of Steve leaving without meeting him. It made him want to tear down the world in anger and pain, a toxic mix of guilt and shame. It made him want to shred everyone around him but he couldn’t do that, wouldn’t do that.

It was easier to shred into Tony alone.

“You had no right!” Bucky yelled and they had been yelling for hours or minutes, some terrifying amount of anger period in the workshop that Bucky had stormed into right after getting discharged from the hospital. “You had no right to send him away, you bastard!”

“What did you want me to do? Put him in the Hulk room? Cage him?” Tony demanded, not giving an inch even in the face of a furious supersoldier, “He needed space, and you almost died trying to drag him back through some weird stubborn belief of memory triggers -”

“He recognized me! I could see it!” Bucky spat, “He is my friend!”

“He didn’t want to stay, James!” Tony yelled, finally pitching his voice over Bucky’s and Bucky stopped, a horrible crash to his thoughts. They were both red-faced, clutching at control with nails and Bucky felt his breath leave in a rush.

“Fuck, this is why I shouldn’t be allowed to play interference,” Tony ran a hand through his hair, taking a shaky breath and loosened his shoulders as he looked back at Bucky with a slightly calmer expression.

“When I reached the shore, you were completely out. You had a pulse but nothing else,” Tony breathed out and caught Bucky’s eyes, “He was there, either guarding you or making sure you didn’t wake up, I don’t -”

“Steve wouldn’t -”

“I don’t know,” Tony stressed, quiet and considerably softer but firm, “I really don’t know, but yes, maybe he wouldn’t. But I saw him and I tried to bring you both back. He refused, Barnes. I don’t know why even though I can make a pretty good guess, but he refused to come back with you. The only way I could have brought him was by knocking him out.”

“Why didn’t you do it?” Bucky grunted and Tony shook his head with a small smirk.

“Apart from the reason that you would kill me?” he snorted, waving it off with a hand, “No, forget that. It’s like you said, I didn’t have the right.”

“Never stopped you before,” Bucky raised an eyebrow and Tony nodded acquiesingly.

“True, but this wasn’t like before,” he shrugged, eyeing the suit he was working on, “Look, I’m not the leading expert on mind-control or brainwashing but I know a thing or two about kidnapping. You know how long he’s been gone but you don’t know who he has been when he was gone. In your head you see him as Steve Rogers, the first Captain America, your best friend. But to him? He hasn’t had the chance to be that guy in years, in decades. You make him come here without giving him a choice, and you’re taking away any chance of him finding out who he is.”

“I just want to help him,” Bucky exhaled hard and leaned back against the work-table, feeling an untold age in his bones, “God, Steve.”

Tony didn’t say anything, letting the silence stay as Bucky tried to focus on breathing without air hurting his lungs.

“You’re sure he’s safe?” he asked after a while, quieter than before, and looked at Tony who was doing a good job of pretending not to watch Bucky.

“I put a tracker in his arm,” Tony shrugged at the look Bucky shot him, “What? I can give a guy some space, not let a ‘maybe assassin’ run around the country without knowing where he is.”

“Bastard,” Bucky reiterated but Tony grinned unapologetically this time, the deviousness not affecting him in the least.

It didn’t get easier, even with knowing where Steve was and that he wasn’t involved in any incidents. Sam had volunteered to shadow him to his best and Bucky had hated it but Natasha had been right when she explained that it was safest for everyone. Feeling useless had never sat right with Bucky, even if it wasn’t to Steve’s old level of restless itch. It probably wasn’t surprising then that he had taken to taking his frustration out with either Natasha or Clint, since he wasn’t sure about Tony yet. Or maybe he was and that confused him. It worked fine, despite Clint’s insistence that he wasn’t fine with being moped at, till it wasn’t.

“Wonder twins off on mission?” Tony asked as he walked into the common kitchen, a low hanging sweatpant and black tanktop showing that he had been in a workshop binge.

“Potts off on a business trip?” Bucky asked in return without looking up from the tablet he was reading on.

“Touché,” Tony hummed and came around the counter to pull out a pan, rummaging around the cupboards for ingredients.

“You’re making food?” Bucky raised an eyebrow when he finally made sense of the ingredients and Tony shot him a dry look before nodding.

“Shocking, I know, but survival demands sustenance,” he quipped as he cracked eggs into a bowl, pausing a second before shooting Bucky a glance, “You want some?”

“Some?”

“Food. Scrambled egg sandwiches,” Tony pointed to the loaf of bread he had picked, “You want some?”

“Burnt sandwiches?” Bucky snorted and bit back a wince when Tony’s shoulders tensed as he turned away to gather tomatoes. He knew that he was not much of a charmer at times and Tony seemed to bear the brunt of his worst sarcasm often, even if he gave as good as he got. It wasn’t really fun and Bucky scrambled to salvage the conversation.

“Want a hand?” he offered and got up, moving around to pick up the bread, “I’ll do the toast and you can do the eggs.”

Tony didn’t reply but Bucky was fluent in his silences by now and he knew that the tension had lessened to mild suspicion.

Nothing was burnt, more or less, and Bucky didn’t really know how he went from making sandwiches to sitting with Tony for a Star Trek marathon but it was the first time in months that his head wasn’t buzzing with the need to do something. He didn’t know if he was being selfish by taking the reprieve but Tony was warm beside him and the screen was bright enough to dull some dark thoughts. Tony shuffled and his elbow nudged Bucky’s arm. Bucky leaned back a little into the couch and let it stay.

Between keeping an eye out for Steve, re-forming the Avengers, and handling the backlash from SHIELD’s fall, Bucky hadn’t been surprised when his tentative romance with Natasha had fizzled out. He was still in awe of her, and still felt his heart clench for a minute when she did something particularly simple but he had seen the looks she exchanged with Bruce. It didn’t hurt much after a while and he had gotten used to the idea of her as his friend. Sharon, whenever she came to the Tower, shot him pointed looks sometimes but even she let it go when she caught sight of Bruce making Natasha smile easily. Things were rocky but he was getting a hang of it, especially with Tony, when Sam called.

“He caught up with me a week ago. I think he wants to meet you. We’re at Bucharest.”

Clint had assigned himself to join Bucky on the trip and Bucky didn’t know if he was annoyed or relieved, but he let it go with the latter.

“Told you he’d just need space,” Tony smiled softly, the way he did nowadays when there was no broken glass to tread on, and Bucky rolled his eyes as he packed but felt his shoulders relax at Tony’s presence.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a real Cassandra,” he grinned and caught the phone that Tony threw at him easily, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at it, “I distinctly remember something else being my phone yesterday.”

“Something you won’t let me upgrade but let’s save your travesty for another day,” Tony rolled his eyes and walked into the room, “This is similar to a burner phone but with more...me. It’ll keep your communication secure and also send signal to JARVIS in case you need help.”

“My comm works just fine, Tony,” Bucky reminded but Tony simply picked up a leather jacket Bucky had folded and dumped it into his duffel.

“Who’s the genius here, exactly?” he countered with a smug look and didn’t bat an eye when Bucky pulled the finger, “It’s for in case your comm doesn’t work. You’re not exactly taking a cavalry with you and you won’t take the Quinjet.”

“The jet works just fine, smugass,” Bucky laughed and Tony threw his hands in the air.

“Don’t blame me when you can’t call me,” he said with a mock-haughty sniff and Bucky dropped a towel on his head to hear him make indignant noises.

“Don’t do anything stupid when I’m gone, okay?” he warned lightly, zipping up the duffel and slinging it over his shoulder, eyeing the genius who had become his good friend over the madness of time.

“You do remember that you won’t be here, right? All the stupid is gonna happen with you, God, maybe I should warn the Bucharest government about you” Tony pointed out, pushing Bucky away when he moved to swat his head, “Get out, you jackass. I bet Rogers is a better guest than you. Bring him home. I need better people on my side.”

“Who told you he’d be on your side?” Bucky teased but threw his arm around Tony’s shoulder, dragging him out of the room when the genius started on a rant about Steve obviously having common sense.

He met Pepper on his way out and she smiled at him but Bucky felt something wrong with her smile, something tight and unhappy about her posture. He didn’t have time to think about it though and he got into the jet, waving away to his team, his last visual of Pepper and Tony standing stiffly next to each other but not touching.

It felt off but Bucky didn’t get to think much of it with Clint setting course to Bucharest.

Meeting Steve again was anticlimactic at best and uneventful at worst. Bucky had a list of ideas of what to expect, of how he would react or how Steve would react, but none of them involved Steve quietly showing him to a room in a shabby apartment and then shutting himself up in the adjacent room. Clint had simply shrugged at Bucky and had dragged a tired Sam out to go get some food. For three days, Steve would come out of the room for breakfast, go out to buy a newspaper and come back to go straight back into his room. The first day Bucky wasn’t sure if he was allowed to follow but when he tried it the second day, Steve didn’t say anything so he figured it was alright. The meals were awkward and Clint would try to make as much conversation as possible, Sam going along with it, but Steve didn’t say a word.

When he did speak, it wasn’t anything Bucky thought he would speak about.

“Stark,” he said on the fourth day, between Clint’s wild gesticulation of some story and Sam’s snort. Clint didn’t pause entirely but the noise did dial down and Bucky was caught between freezing up or prompting a continuation.

“I met him,” Steve said finally, eyes on the soup he was ladling into his bowl, “When I -”

The pause was deliberate this time and Bucky felt invisible guns trained on him.

“Yeah, he - he leaves an impression,” he settled on finally, kicking at Clint’s ankle when the archer stifled a laugh.

Steve ignored that but took two sips of his soup before looking up at Bucky, face devoid of any particular emotion.

“He anything like Howard?” he asked and this time Clint stopped muffling laughter. This was a landmine and Bucky had always tried to burrow away from them, preferring targets he could see.

“He makes things fly better,” he replied finally and imagined that Steve’s lips quirked at the sides but then he was nodding.

“He doesn’t need to track me anymore,” Steve said and Bucky wanted to yell, wanted to lean forward and grab the punk into a hug or whack him over his head. Sam nudged his feet under the table and Bucky swallowed twice before he exhaled.

“Alright,” he said, not asking if it meant Steve was coming home or if he wanted Bucky to stay. Maybe it was the familiar watered down soup or an actual conversation with his presumed dead friend, but Bucky was good with what he got in that moment.

“I’ll tell him,” he told Steve and felt a giddy feeling in his head as he had the urge to call Tony immediately. If he brushed a hand over the phone Tony had given him during the rest of the meal, then it wasn’t something he was willing to discuss out loud or in his mind yet.

That night he called Tony and was grateful for the silence around him when his words turned into choked sobs over the phone, chaotic words and curses mingling with names as he clung to the phone tight. Tony didn’t stop him or give him meaningless platitudes but let him speak, offering quiet answers whenever Bucky asked desperate questions.

“It’ll all work out, James,” Tony promised softly, a confidence that was born from defiance and defeat, “Everybody will come home in time, you’ll see. We’ll all get home eventually, I promise.”

“Tony?”

“Hmm?”

Bucky didn’t know what he wanted to say. Didn’t know if it was gratitude or longing or happiness or grief; there were too many emotions to convey but he huddled the phone closer to his ear and whispered.

“Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.”

“I’ll wait for you then,” Tony replied, warm and without missing a beat, and everything Bucky wanted to hear.

He went to sleep with Tony’s ramble about Dum-E and JARVIS conspiring against him, and felt the dreams hurt less.

[buckywintersoldierbarnes2017]

Don’t Hide Who You Are.

 Request from anon: Can I request something where Bucky is just starting to date Tony's daughter (teams on good terms) and she flinches a lot when he comes near her or raises his arms for some reason. He asks tony if she's been hurt by someone in the past and he laughs about it. Tells him she refuses to wear her glasses cause she's embarrassed by them. Buck talks her into wearing them and when she puts them on it turns Bucky on and he's speechless. She finally gets the confidence to wear them infront of people.

Note: Hope this is okay! I changed it EVER so slightly but only in the sense of Bucky not being speechless but still finding the glasses attractive on the reader.

Bucky x Self Conscious!Reader

Words: 1,606

Warnings: Language (It is Bucky after all....and Tony for that matter haha!)...other than that nothing other than mentions of someone being self conscious and very mild injury.

Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their wonderful creators <3

It was only 05:30 in the morning but he had woken up to find your side of the bed empty and although he knew you wouldn’t have gone far there was still the smallest part of him that thought the worst…enough so that the super soldier found himself rolling out of bed and beginning a search for you inside the tower after pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

Never did he expect to find himself in this position; not only had Tony learned to accept that Bucky himself had not been responsible for his parent’s death but he had allowed him to live in the tower with the other Avengers and, most important of all, he had given his blessings for the two of you to be together. His own daughter with the man who had once been a cold-blooded assassin for Hydra. It was why now, even months down the line, he found himself having to pinch his arm to realise this was all real.

With the things he’d done happiness was the last thing he had seen in his future and yet you walked into his life and it was all he could see.

As he wandered into the common room of the tower his sharp blue eyes fell upon your quiet form standing at the panoramic window that overlooked the city below; the sun was beginning to rise but it was still dark enough for you to be able to see his reflection so he made no attempts to make his presence known as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

He had expected a soft, contented, hum to escape your lips and for your body to sink into his but instead he was met with a deafening scream as you jumped away from him completely and swung your fist round to connect with the face of whoever had just snuck up behind you.

“What the-“

Bucky raised up his metal arm so that his hand met with yours and prevented it from meeting its destination. It was only when you felt that all too familiar cold sensation of metal that your eyes widened in horror.

“Oh my god! Buck I am so sorry! I-“ Your hand was still in his so you quickly retracted it and placed it back by your side as a rather embarrassed expression came over your face. “I didn’t even see you….thought….”

The brunette’s brows furrowed in both confusion and worry as he brought his flesh hand up to your cheek. His thumb traced your cheekbone as he spoke softly to you.

“What is going on with you doll? You’ve been like this for a while now….beginning to think you don’t want me touching you or something.”

“Not at all!” You immediately object to his statement. “There is no way in hell I could ever reach a point where I don’t want you touching me. Please don’t ever think that.”

“That what is it? Tell me [y/n].”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” You place a soft kiss onto his lips before pulling away from him and heading towards the door. “Anyway I am late for a workout with Steve. I’ll see you later.”

Bucky was more than ready to follow after you until something came to the forefront of his mind and instead of his mind telling him to go after you it made him so incredibly angry instead. As his jaw clenched and a mechanical whirr echoed around the room from his metal hand clenching up into a fist he stormed out of the room and towards where he knew Tony to be.

                                             * * * * * * * * * *

Tony was leaning over a delicate piece of equipment, concentrating hard as he began to solder two very fine bits of it together, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as his eyes zeroed in on where he needed to apply the hot liquid.

“Sir just a warning here but Mr Barn-“

“STARK!”

Bucky’s booming voice instigated a whole chain of clattering sounds as Tony all but jumped out of his skin and dropped everything he had been holding. Immediately a scowl etched its way onto his face as he slowly turned to look at the intrusion that had ruined his latest creation.

“What the fuck fossil! You don’t just fu-“

“Has [y/n] ever been hit?”

“What?!” His brows furrowed in a look of utter confusion. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

“I believe Mr Barnes is talking about the fact that Miss [y/n] flinches each time he approaches her.”

Both men look at each other with expressions of bewilderment at that moment; Bucky because he wasn’t even aware that FRIDAY had noticed the same things he had and Tony because he was completely oblivious to the fact that the computer system he had designed was prying into people’s personal lives….his personal life.

“However creeped out I am over that thing still she’s right. Just recently every time I have gone anywhere near [y/n] she has flinched away from me as though she is scared.” There is a pain in the brunette’s eyes that not even a man as self-centred as Tony Stark can ignore. “That’s why I need to ask if she has ever been hit in her life….like by a previous boyfriend or something?”

“Do you honestly think that with me for a brother I would ever let that happen? I would break every bone in the guy’s body the second such a thought even so much as crossed his damn mind….as I am sure you would.” Despite the reservations Tony still had towards Bucky he couldn’t deny the fact that he would put his life on the line to protect you….and he respected that about him. “It’s because she doesn’t wear her glasses.”

“What?”

He had been with you a number of months now and not once had he known you even needed to wear them. You never mentioned even wearing contacts let alone glasses.

“She has needed to wear them for years but always refuses to because she thinks they make her look stupid. She’s a girl…go figure….they have a strange logic.”

Reaching into his pocket Tony pulled out the very pair of glasses he had been talking about and handed them over to the soldier with a smirk beginning to tug up the corner of his lips.

“If there is anyone she will listen to when it comes to this it is you so for the love of god please get her to put them on. From what I saw on the camera’s live feed she didn’t fare too well in her session with Steve.”

“Shit.”

Without another word spoken between the two men Bucky left the room and headed down to your shared room. It was the only place you would be after a workout and he wanted to catch you before you snuck off somewhere else.

                                                * * * * * * * * * *

You collapsed down onto the bed sporting a rather prominent black eye, wrapped only in the towel you had covered yourself in after your shower, as a heavy and frustrated sigh escaped your lips. You couldn’t carry on like this, you knew that all too well, but then you couldn’t risk the man you were steadily falling in love with laughing at you because of those stupid glasses of yours.

“Ugh. [y/n] you need to get a grip of yourself.”

“Can’t say I disagree with you there doll.” Bucky’s voice interrupted your whole ‘beating yourself up’ moment and you sat yourself up bolt right from the shock of hearing him so suddenly. “Now I think you are forgetting something….”

Before you are even able to question what he is talking about you feel something all too familiar being placed onto your face and although it is the one thing you had loathed the past few months you couldn’t help but feel relieved when you saw his handsome features becoming more highly defined than they had ever been.

“Let me guess…..my dad told you?”

“Yes, after looking like he was about to kill me when I interrupted some of his work.”

You grimace slightly before letting an amused laugh roll from your lips.

“Yeah he’s pretty protective over his little hobbies.”

“You shouldn’t hide who you are doll. Glasses are never going to be something that would make anyone think any less of you, especially me, in fact…..” He leaned over to you, forcing you to lay back down onto the bed, as he hovered above you with a smirk painting itself onto his lips. “….I find them to be incredibly sexy.”

Good god this man knew how to get your heart racing, even when it came to something you had such a strong opinion about, could he really get any more perfect?

“You’re such a charmer Buck.”

“Well I need to make my girl happy. Now…..can you promise me that you will start wearing these babies a little more? I would much rather my best friend didn’t give my girlfriend a black eye.”

You could feel the laughter building up inside of you from your stomach and it wasn’t long before it erupted out completely. All of this because you had been so convinced your boyfriend would hate seeing you in glasses and yet from what he was saying it was the complete opposite.

Well….if he liked them all that much then maybe you really could start wearing them in front of people again. It would certainly prevent any more bruises that was for sure!

Permanent tag list (still open):@fallenfairy16@brieflybigwonderland @frolicsomefawkes@psychicwitchphilosopher @elwenia @imsecretlyromanburki@elaacreditava @marvel-fanfiction@wantingtobekorra @fandom-rpblog @just-call-me-your-darling@deanwinnchesterisbae @gayvvarden @marshmellowgems11@justreadingfics @cinema212 @cassandras-musings@adellyhatter-blog @engineeringgirlcve @thewinterswimmer@buckyappreciationsociety @mizzzpink @hopelessgarbage@mary-is-coolbeans @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl @noir-agneau@holywinchesterness @katie27hp @purplekitten30 @abbybills22@misticalnellie @alwayshave-faith @sammnipple @upon-a-girl@yknott81@melconnor2007 @fadedsmile911@avc212@milychetto @elsatheizequeen

[lesbianrewrites]

The Martian Chapter 9

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of The Martian by Andy Weir.

Chapters will be posted every day at 2pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

CHAPTER IX

LOG ENTRY: SOL 79 It’s the evening of my 8th day on the road. “Sirius 4” has been a success so far. I’ve fallen into a routine. Every morning I wake up at dawn. First thing I do is check oxygen and CO2 levels. Then I eat a breakfast pack and drink a cup of water. After that, I brush my teeth, using as little water as possible, and shave with an electric razor. The rover has no toilet. We were expected to use our suits’ reclamation systems for that. But they aren’t designed to hold twenty days worth of output. My morning piss goes in a resealable plastic box. When I open it, the rover reeks like a truck-stop men’s room. I could take it outside and let it boil off. But I worked hard to make that water, and the last thing I’m going to do is waste it. I’ll feed it to the Water Reclaimer when I get back. Even more precious is my manure. It’s critical to the potato farm and I’m the only source on Mars. Fortunately, when you spend a lot of time in space, you learn how to shit in a bag. And if you think things are bad after opening the piss box, imagine the smell after I drop anchor. Then I go outside and collect the solar cells. Why didn’t I do it the previous night? Because trying to dismantle and stack solar cells in total fucking darkness isn’t fun. I learned that the hard way. After securing the cells, I come back in, turn on some shitty ‘70’s music, and start driving. I putter along at 25kph, the rover’s top speed. It’s comfortable inside. I wear hastily made cut-offs and a thin shirt while the RTG bakes the interior. When it gets too hot I detach the insulation duct-taped to the hull. When it gets too cold, I tape it back up. I can go almost 2 hours before the battery runs out. I do a quick EVA to swap cables, then I’m back at the wheel for the second half of the day’s drive. The terrain is very flat. The undercarriage of the rover is taller than any of the rocks around here, and the hills are gently-sloping affairs, smoothed by eons of sandstorms. When the other battery runs out, it’s time for another EVA. I pull the solar cells off the roof and lay them on the ground. For the first few sols, I lined them up in a row. Now I plop them wherever, trying to keep them close to the rover out of sheer laziness. Then comes the incredibly dull part of my day. I sit around for 12 hours with nothing to do. And I’m getting sick of this rover. The inside’s the size of a van. That may seem like plenty of room, but try being trapped in a van for 8 days. I look forward to tending my potato farm in the wide open space of the Hab. I’m nostalgic for the Hab. How fucked up is that? I have shitty ‘70’s TV to watch, and a bunch of Poirot novels. But mostly I spend my time thinking about getting to Ares 4. I’ll have to do it someday. How the hell am I going to survive a 3,200km trip in this thing? It’ll probably take 50 days. I’ll need the Water Reclaimer and the Oxygenator, maybe some of the Hab’s main batteries, then a bunch more solar cells to charge everything… where will I put it all? These thoughts pester me throughout the long boring days. Eventually, it gets dark and I get tired. I lay among the food packs, water tanks, extra O2 tank, piles of CO2 filters, box of pee, bags of shit, and personal items. I have a bunch of crew jumpsuits to serve as bedding, along with my blanket and pillow. Basically, I sleep in a pile of junk every night. Speaking of sleep… G’night.LOG ENTRY: SOL 80 By my reckoning, I’m about 100km from Pathfinder. Technically it’s “Carl Sagan Memorial Station.” But with all due respect to Carl, I can call it whatever the hell I want. I’m the Queen of Mars. As I mentioned, it’s been a long, boring drive. And I’m still on the outward leg. But hey, I’m an astronaut. Long-ass trips are my business. Navigation is tricky. The Hab’s nav beacon only reaches 40km, then it’s too faint. I knew that’d be an issue when I was planning this little road trip, so I came up with a brilliant plan that didn’t work. The computer has detailed maps, so I figured I could navigate by landmarks. I was wrong. Turns out you can’t navigate by landmarks if you can’t find any god damned landmarks. Our landing site is at the delta of a long-gone river. If there are any microscopic fossils to be had, it’s a good place to look. Also, the water would have dragged rock and soil samples from thousands of kilometers away. With some digging, we could get a broad geological history. That’s great for science, but it means the Hab’s in a featureless wasteland. I considered making a compass. The rover has plenty of electricity and the med kit has a needle. Only one problem: Mars doesn’t have a magnetic field. So I navigate by Phobos. It whips around Mars so fast it actually rises and sets twice a day, running west to east. It’s isn’t the most accurate system, but it works. Things got easier on Sol 75. I reached a valley with a rise to the west. It had flat ground for easy driving, and I just needed to follow the edge of the hills. I named it “Lewis Valley” after our fearless leader. She’d love it there, geology nerd that she is. Three sols later, Lewis Valley opened into a wide plain. So, again, I was left without references and relied on Phobos to guide me. There’s probably symbolism there. Phobos is the god of fear, and I’m letting it be my guide. Not a good sign. But today, my luck finally changed. After two sols wandering the desert, I found something to navigate by. It was a 5km crater, so small it didn’t even have a listed name. But to me, it was the Lighthouse of Alexandria. Once I had it in sight, I knew exactly where I was. I’m camped near it now, as a matter of fact. I’m finally through the blank areas of the map. Tomorrow, I’ll have the Lighthouse to navigate by, and Hamelin crater later on. I’m in good shape. Now, on to my next task: Sitting around with nothing to do for 12 hours. I better get started!LOG ENTRY: SOL 81 Almost made it to Pathfinder today, but I ran out of juice. Just another 22km to go! An unremarkable drive. Navigation wasn’t a problem. As Lighthouse receded into the distance, the rim of Hamelin Crater came into view. I left Acidalia Planitia behind a long time ago. I’m well into Ares Vallis now. The desert plains are giving way to bumpier terrain, strewn with ejecta that never got buried by sand. It makes driving a chore; I have to pay more attention. Up till now, I’ve been driving right over the rock-strewn landscape. But as I travel further south, the rocks are getting bigger and more plentiful. I have to go around some of them or risk damage to my suspension. The good news is I don’t have to do it for long. Once I get to Pathfinder, I can turn around and go the other way. The weather’s been very good. No discernible wind, no storms. I think I got lucky there. There’s a good chance my rover tracks from the past few sols are intact. I should be able to get back to Lewis Valley just by following them. After setting up the solar panels, I went for a little walk. I never left sight of the rover; the last thing I want to do is get lost on foot. But I couldn’t stomach crawling back into that cramped, smelly rat’s nest. Not right away. It’s a strange feeling. Everywhere I go, I’m the first. Step outside the rover? First person ever to be there! Climb a hill? First person to climb that hill! Kick a rock? That rock hadn’t moved in a million years! I’m the first person to drive long-distance on Mars. The first person to spend more than 31 sols on Mars. The first person to grow crops on Mars. First, first, first! I wasn’t expecting to be first at anything. I was the 5th crewman out of the MDV when we landed, making me the 17th person to set foot on Mars. The egress order had been determined years earlier. A month before launch, we all got tattoos of our “Mars Numbers.” Johanssen almost refused to get her “15” because she was afraid it would hurt. Here’s a woman who had survived the centrifuge, the vomit comet, hard landing drills and 10k runs. A woman who fixed a simulated MDV computer failure while being spun around upside-down. But she was afraid of a tattoo needle. Man, I miss those guys. I’m the first person to be alone on an entire planet. Ok, enough moping. Tomorrow, I’ll be the first person to recover a Mars probe.LOG ENTRY: SOL 82 Victory! I found it! I knew I was in the right area when I spotted Twin Peaks in the distance. The two small hills are under a kilometer from the landing site. Even better, they were on the far side of the site. All I had to do was aim for them until I found the Lander. And there it was! Right where it was supposed to be! Pathfinder’s final stage of descent was a balloon-covered tetrahedron. The balloons absorbed the impact of landing. Once it came to rest, they deflated and the tetrahedron unfolded to reveal the probe. It’s actually two separate components. The Lander itself, and the Sojourner rover. The Lander was immobile, while Sojourner wandered around and got a good look at the local rocks. I’m taking both back with me, but the important part is the Lander. That’s the part that can communicate with Earth. I excitedly stumbled out and rushed to the site. I can’t explain how happy I was. It was a lot of work to get here, and I’d succeeded. The Lander was half buried. With some quick and careful digging, I exposed the bulk of it, though the large tetrahedron and the deflated balloons still lurked below the surface. After a quick search, I found Sojourner. The little fella was only two meters from the Lander. I vaguely remember it was further away when they last saw it. It probably entered a contingency mode and started circling the Lander, trying to communicate. I quickly deposited Sojourner in my rover. It’s small, light, and easily fit in the airlock. The Lander was a different story. I had no hope of getting the whole thing back to the Hab. It was just too big. It was time for me to put on my mechanical engineer hat. The probe was attached to the central panel of the unfolded tetrahedron. The other three sides were each attached with a metal hinge. As anyone at JPL will tell you, probes are delicate things. Weight is a serious concern, so they’re not made to stand up to much punishment. When I took a crowbar to the hinges, they popped right off! Then things got difficult. When I tried to lift the central panel assembly, it didn’t budge. Just like the other three panels, the central panel had deflated balloons underneath it. Over the decades, the balloons had ripped and filled with sand. I could cut off the balloons, but I’d have to dig to get to them. It wouldn’t be hard, it’s just sand. But the other three panels were in the damn way. I quickly realized I didn’t give a crap about the condition of the other panels. I went back to my rover, cut some strips of Hab material, then braided them into a primitive but strong rope. I can’t take credit for it being strong. Thank NASA for that. I just made it rope-shaped. I tied one end to a panel, and the other to the rover. The rover was made for traversing extremely rugged terrain, often at steep angles. It may not be fast, but it has great torque. I towed the panel away like a redneck removing a tree stump. Now I had a place to dig. As I exposed each balloon, I cut it off. The whole task took an hour. Then I hoisted the central panel assembly up and carried it confidently to the rover! At least, that’s what I wanted to do. The damn thing is still heavy as hell. I’m guessing it’s 200kg. Even in Mars gravity that's a bit much. I could carry it around the Hab easily enough, but lifting it while wearing an awkward EVA suit? Out of the question. So I dragged it to the rover. Now for my next feat: Getting it on the roof. The roof was empty at the moment. Even with mostly-full batteries, I had set up the solar cells when I stopped. Why not? Free energy. I’d worked it out in advance. On the way here, two stacks of solar panels occupied the whole roof. On the way back, they would be a single stack. It’s a little more dangerous; they might fall over. The main thing it they’ll be a pain in the ass to stack that high. I can’t just throw a rope over the rover and hoist Pathfinder up the side. I don’t want to break it. I mean, it’s already broken, they lost contact in 1997. But I don’t want to break it more. I came up with a solution, but I’d done enough physical labor for one day, and I was almost out of daylight. Now I’m in the rover, looking at Sojourner. It seems all right. No physical damage on the outside. Doesn’t look like anything got too baked by the sunlight. The dense layer of Mars crap all over it protected it from long-term solar damage. You may think Sojourner isn’t much use to me. It can’t communicate with Earth. Why do I care about it? Because it has a lot of moving parts. If I establish a link with NASA, I can talk to them by holding a page of text up to the Lander’s camera. But how would they talk to me? The only moving parts on the Lander are the high gain antenna (which would have to stay pointed at Earth) and the camera boom. We’d have to come up with a system where NASA could talk by rotating the camera head. It would be painfully slow. But Sojourner has six independent wheels that rotate reasonably fast. It’ll be much easier to communicate with those. If nothing else, I could draw letters on the wheels, and hold a mirror up to its camera. NASA’d figure it out and start spelling things at me. That all assumes I can get the Lander’s radio working at all. Time to turn in. I’ve got a lot of backbreaking physical labor to do tomorrow. I’ll need my rest.LOG ENTRY: SOL 83 Oh god I’m sore. But it’s the only way I could think of to get the Lander safely onto the roof. I built a ramp out of rocks and sand. Just like the ancient Egyptians did. And if there’s one thing Ares Vallis has, it’s rocks! First, I experimented to find out how steep the grade could be. Piling up some rocks near the Lander, I dragged it up the pile, then down again. Then I made it steeper, etc. I figured out I could pull it up a 30 degree grade. Anything more was too risky. I might lose my grip and send the Lander tumbling down the ramp. The roof of the rover is over 2 meters from the ground. So I’d need a ramp almost 4 meters long. I got to work. The first few rocks were easy. Then they started feeling heavier and heavier. Hard physical labor in a spacesuit is murder. Everything’s more effort because you’re lugging 20kg of suit around with you, and your movement is limited. I was panting within 20 minutes. So I cheated. I upped my O2 mixture. It really helped a lot. Probably shouldn’t make that a habit. Also, I didn’t get hot. The suit leaks heat faster than my body could ever generate it. The heating system is what keeps the temperature bearable. My physical labor just meant the suit didn’t have to heat itself as much. After hours of grueling labor, I finally got the ramp made. Nothing more than a pile of rocks against the rover, but it reached the roof. I stomped up and down the ramp first, to make sure it was stable, then I dragged the Lander up. It worked like a charm! I was all smiles as I lashed the Lander in place. I made sure it was firmly secured, and even stacked the solar cells in a big single stack (why waste the ramp?). But then it hit me. The ramp would collapse as I drove away, and the rocks might damage the wheels or undercarriage. I’d have to take the ramp apart to keep that from happening. Ugh. Tearing the ramp down was easier than putting it up. I didn’t need to carefully put each rock in a stable place. I just dropped them wherever. It only took me an hour. And now I’m done! I’ll start heading home tomorrow, with my new 100kg broken radio.

[biofunmy]

Boris Johnson, Giuseppe Conte, Dorian: Your Friday Briefing

(Want to get this briefing by email? Here’s the sign-up.)

Good morning.

We’re covering Boris Johnson’s promises to speed up Brexit talks, how Giuseppe Conte went from irrelevant to irreplaceable and a chicken-sandwich battle for the ages.

Mr. Johnson promised that Britain’s Brexit negotiators would sit down with their European counterparts twice a week through September, with the possibility of additional technical meetings, to try to reach a deal that would avert the risk of a cliff-edge departure.

“While I have been encouraged with my discussions with E.U. leaders over recent weeks that there is a willingness to talk about alternatives to the anti-democratic backstop,” he said in comments released by his office, “it is now time for both sides to step up the tempo.”

Details: The Conservative Party leader in Scotland, Ruth Davidson, resigned, and Lord Young of Cookham, a former cabinet minister, resigned as a Conservative whip in the House of Lords on Thursday.

Meaning: The move seemed to acknowledge the mounting concern about the suspension of Parliament, a decision that provoked spontaneous protests in London and other cities.

How Giuseppe Conte became irreplaceable

The departing prime minister of Italy, after 14 months of being ignored and mocked, has been using his resignation last week to catapult himself into a leading role in the country’s government.

In accepting the mandate to form a government on Thursday, Mr. Conte said that he wanted to win back lost time “to allow Italy, a founding member of the European Union, to rise again as a protagonist” and “transform this moment of crisis into an opportunity.”

What’s next: Mr. Conte will now begin meetings with all party leaders and is expected next week to submit to President Sergio Mattarella a cabinet that, if approved, will be brought to Parliament for a confidence vote.

Reminder: Mr. Conte will preside over a populist/anti-populist coalition between the Five Star Movement and the center-left Democratic Party.

What genes say (and don’t say) about sexuality

An ambitious new study found that many genes play a role in sexual behavior, and that there is no one “gay gene.”

The study in the journal Science found that genes account for perhaps a third of the influence on whether someone has same-sex sex, along with social and environmental factors.

“I hope that the science can be used to educate people a little bit more about how natural and normal same-sex behavior is,” said one of the lead researchers. “It’s written into our genes and it’s part of our environment. This is part of our species and it’s part of who we are.”

Perspective: One of the study’s researchers and a colleague, both gay men, parse the implications and limitations of the work in an Op-Ed.

Accused of recruiting for Jeffrey Epstein

The Times is reporting on disturbing new accusations that Jeffrey Epstein relied on a ring of women close to him to feed his insatiable appetite for girls.

Mr. Epstein’s accusers contend in court papers that his onetime partner Ghislaine Maxwell, along with a small cadre of other women — including several assistants and one referred to as Ms. Maxwell’s “lieutenant” — helped Mr. Epstein lure girls into his orbit and managed the logistics of his encounters with them.

Legal dilemma: Experts also told The Times that prosecutors may struggle in deciding whether to charge the women, because some may have initially been victims themselves.

If you have 8 minutes, this is worth it

Those excluded from France’s sacred August holidays

France is famous for its long summer vacations. In Paris, handwritten notes pop up on the doors of the local bakery, brasserie or locksmith indicating that the owners are away and that you should be, too.

But for many, vacations are becoming increasingly out of reach financially, especially as traditional summer hot spots cater to high-income clients. The gap reflects an increasingly unequal French society — another sign of the things that gave rise to the Yellow Vest movement.

Here’s what else is happening

Measles: There is a “dramatic resurgence” in the disease on the Continent, the World Health Organization said — fueled in part by a rising wave of people who are refusing to be vaccinated. Albania, Britain, the Czech Republic and Greece joined 12 other nations where the disease is endemic.

Hurricane Dorian: The powerful storm is on course to hit Florida as a Category 4 hurricane. It could start as early as Saturday night, with winds of up to 130 miles per hour. Forecasters predict that the hurricane will drop 4 to 8 inches of rain, with up to a foot in some areas.

Climate change: The Trump administration laid out a far-reaching plan to cut back on the regulation of methane emissions, a major contributor to climate change.

Colombia: A former rebel commander called for a return to arms, saying the government has failed to honor the peace deal that ended a 52-year war.

Snapshot: Above, a Popeyes location that sold out of chicken sandwiches in New York, after Twitter insults led to the most successful product launch in the fast-food chain’s history. A viral social media debate between Popeyes and Chick-fil-A had customers flocking to restaurants across the country to see for themselves — and it turned into a logistical headache.

U.S. Open: Taylor Townsend upset the Wimbledon champion Simona Halep for the biggest win of her career. Coco Gauff, the 15-year-old who has captivated the tennis world, beat Timea Babos to reach the third round. Next she will face the defending champion, Naomi Osaka.

What we’re reading: This piece in the Atlantic. Remy Tumin on the briefings team, says: “My friend and former colleague Peter Brannen puts the fires in the Amazon into the context of humanity’s burning of fossil fuels, which summons ‘creatures long dead to return to Earth’s surface and give up the ancient energy they took to the grave,’ he writes.”

Now, a break from the news

Listen: Lana Del Rey’s fifth major-label album, “Norman ____ Rockwell!,” is a collaboration with Jack Antonoff packed with fiery lyrics.

Smarter Living: One thing you can do for the environment is drive less. Our Climate Fwd: newsletter did the math for the U.S. Since Americans drive trillions of miles every year, a 10 percent reduction would equal taking about 28 coal-fired power plants offline for a year. Short trips are the lowest-hanging fruit — you can ditch the car and walk, bike or take public transit.

And if you use Slack to escape from email hell, we can help you keep it from taking over your life.

And now for the Back Story on …

Namor, the Sub-Mariner

The Marvel Comics character turns 80 on Saturday. Created by the writer-artist Bill Everett, he has been a villain, a hero, a corporate tycoon and more.

In his origin story, published on Aug. 31, 1939, he is a force of nature personified. Two divers who spot him in the ocean depths are in awe of “the long strokes of his powerful arms.”

Under water, his hair and skin color vary. On land, he has brown hair and is Caucasian — closer to his modern look.

The cartoonist Art Spiegelman, writing about how fascism shaped the golden age of comics in the 1940s, noted that the volatile Sub-Mariner was “a marked contrast to the square and square-jawed vigilante do-gooders who lived in the less scruffy DC Comics neighbourhood.”

The reason for Namor’s rage resonates today: undersea explosions set off by a scientific expedition. With the kingdom of Atlantis threatened, his mother tells him, “It is your duty to lead us into battle!” And so he has, for eight decades and counting.

That’s it for this briefing. We’re off on Monday for the U.S. Labor Day holiday. See you next time.

— Melina

Thank you Mark Josephson, Eleanor Stanford and Chris Harcum provided the break from the news. George Gustines, a senior editor for graphics and video, wrote today’s Back Story. You can reach the team at briefing@nytimes.com.

P.S. • We’re listening to “The Daily.” Our latest episode is about Uber’s struggle to make a profit. • Here’s today’s Mini Crossword puzzle, and a clue: Philosopher John who lent his name to a “Lost” character (five letters). You can find all our puzzles here. • On Thursday, we distributed 2,000 copies of the Times Magazine special issue “The 1619 Project,” along with a related newspaper section, for free to readers outside our headquarters in New York.

Sahred From Source link World News

from WordPress http://bit.ly/328wIDM via IFTTT

[clubofinfo]

Expert: In an important recent book, the Indian writer Amitav Ghosh refers to the present era of corporate-driven climate crisis as “The Great Derangement”. For almost 12,000 years, since the last Ice Age, humanity has lived through a period of relative climate stability known as the Holocene. When Homo sapiens shifted, for the most part, from a nomadic hunter-gatherer existence to an agriculture-based life, towns and cities grew, humans went into space and the global population shot up to over seven billion people. Today, many scientists believe that we have effectively entered a new geological era called the Anthropocene during which human activities have ‘started to have a significant global impact on Earth’s geology and ecosystems’. Indeed, we are now faced with severe, human-induced climate instability and catastrophic loss of species: the sixth mass extinction in four-and-a-half billion years of geological history, but the only one to have been caused by us. Last Thursday, the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists moved their symbolic Doomsday Clock forward thirty seconds, towards apocalypse. It is now two and a half minutes to midnight, the closest since 1953. Historically, the Doomsday Clock represented the threat of nuclear annihilation. But global climate change is now also recognised as an ‘extreme danger’. Future generations, warns Ghosh, may well look back on this time and wonder whether humanity was deranged to continue on a course of business-as-usual. In fact, many people alive today already think so. It has become abundantly clear that governments largely pay only lip service to the urgent need to address global warming (or dismiss it altogether), while they pursue policies that deepen climate chaos. As climate writer and activist Bill McKibben points out, President Trump has granted senior energy and environment positions in his administration to men who: know nothing about science, but they love coal and oil and gas – they come from big carbon states like Oklahoma and Texas, and their careers have been lubed and greased with oil money. Rex Tillerson, Trump’s US Secretary of State, is the former chairman and CEO of oil giant, ExxonMobil. He once told his shareholders that cutting oil production is ‘not acceptable for humanity’, adding: ‘What good is it to save the planet if humanity suffers?’ As for Obama’s ‘legacy’ on climate, renowned climate scientist James Hansen only gives him a ‘D’ grade. Obama had had a ‘golden opportunity’. But while he had said ‘the right words’, he had avoided ‘the fundamental approach that’s needed’. Contrast this with the Guardian view on Obama’s legacy that he had ‘allowed America to be a world leader on climate change’. Writer Ian Sinclair noted the stark discrepancy between Obama’s actual record on climate and fawning media comment, notably by the BBC and the Guardian: Despite the liberal media’s veneration of the former US president, Obama did very little indeed to protect the environment. And so while political ‘leaders’ refuse to change course to avoid disaster, bankers and financial speculators continue to risk humanity’s future for the sake of making money; fossil fuel industries go on burning the planet; Big Business consumes and pollutes ecosystems; wars, ‘interventions’ and arms deals push the strategic aims of geopolitical power, all wrapped in newspeak about ‘peace’, ‘security’ and ‘democracy’; and corporate media promote and enable it all, deeply embedded and complicit as they are. The ‘Great Derangement’ indeed. Consider, for example, the notorious US-based Koch Brothers who, as The Real News Network notes, ‘have used their vast wealth to ensure the American political system takes no action on climate change.’ Climate scientist Michael Mann is outspoken: They have polluted our public discourse. They have skewed media coverage of the science of climate change. They have paid off politicians. He continues: The number of lives that will be lost because of the damaging impacts of climate change – in the hundreds of millions. […] To me, it’s not just a crime against humanity, it’s a crime against the planet. But the Koch Brothers are just the tip of a state-corporate system that is on course to drive Homo sapiens towards a terminal catastrophe. Earlier this month, the world’s major climate agencies confirmed 2016 as the hottest since modern records began. The global temperature is now 1C higher than preindustrial times, and the last three years have seen the record broken successively – the first time this has happened. Towards the end of 2016, scientists reported ‘extraordinarily hot’ Arctic conditions. Danish and US researchers were ‘surprised and alarmed by air temperatures peaking at what they say is an unheard-of 20C higher than normal for the time of year.’ One of the scientists said: These temperatures are literally off the charts for where they should be at this time of year. It is pretty shocking. Another researcher emphasised: This is faster than the models. It is alarming because it has consequences. These ‘consequences’ will be terrible. Scientists have warned that increasingly rapid Arctic ice melt ‘could trigger uncontrollable climate change at global level’. It gets worse. A new study suggests that global warming is on course to raise global sea level by between six and nine metres, wiping out coastal cities and settlements around the world. Mann describes the finding, with classic scientific understatement, as ‘sobering’ and adds that: We may very well already be committed to several more metres of sea level rise when the climate system catches up with the carbon dioxide we’ve already pumped into the atmosphere. It gets worse still. The Paris Climate Accord of 2015 repeated the international commitment to keep global warming below 2C. Even this limited rise would threaten life as we know it. When around a dozen climate scientists were asked for their honest opinion as to whether this target could be met, not one of them thought it likely. Bill McGuire, professor emeritus of geophysical and climate hazards at University College London, was most adamant: There is not a cat in hell’s chance [of keeping below 2C]. But wait, because there’s even worse news. Global warming could well be happening so fast that it’s ‘game over’. The Earth’s climate could be so sensitive to greenhouse gases that we may be headed for a temperature rise of more than 7C within a lifetime. Mark Lynas, author of the award-winning book, Six Degrees: Our Future on a Hotter Planet, was ‘shocked’ by the researchers’ study, describing it as ‘the apocalyptic side of bad’. Burying the Climate Issue Given all of the above, what does it say about the British government that it should bury an alarming report about the likely impacts of climate change on the UK? These impacts include: the doubling of the deaths during heatwaves, a “significant risk” to supplies of food and the prospect of infrastructure damage from flooding. At a time of manufactured fear by ‘mainstream’ media about ‘fake news’ and ‘post-truth’ politics, how divorced from reality is the government when it would rather ignore such an important report, far less address seriously the urgent truth of climate chaos? An exclusive article in the Independent noted that the climate report made virtually no impact when it was published on the government website of the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) on 18 January: Despite its undoubted importance, Environment Secretary Andrea Leadsom made no speech and did not issue her own statement, and even the Defra Twitter account was silent. No mainstream media organisation covered the report. The government said in the ignored report that climate change meant that ‘urgent priorities’ needed to be addressed, including a dramatic rise in heat-related deaths, coastal flooding and ‘significant risks to the availability and supply of food in the UK’. So, lip service at least. But Bob Ward, policy and communications director at the Grantham Research Institute on Climate Change and the Environment in London, said he was ‘astonished’ that the government had done so little to publicise the report: It’s almost as if they were trying to sneak it out without people realising. Leading politicians, intelligence chiefs and their media allies are forever warning the British public of ‘security threats’ which are so often blowback from Western foreign policy; or the warnings are overhyped claims to justify their own fearmongering agendas. But when it comes to the greatest threat of all – climate change – they are remarkably silent. This exposes as a lie the rhetoric from government and security services that they are motivated by genuine concern for the well-being of the population. The truth is that powerful forces are always driven primarily by the desire to preserve and boost their own interests, their own profits, their own dominance. Amitav Ghosh rightly notes that the most powerful states derive their privileged position in large part by sitting atop a world-threatening carbon economy: The fact is that we live in a world that has been profoundly shaped by empire and its disparities. Differentials of power between and within nations are probably greater today than they have ever been. These differentials are, in turn, closely related to carbon emissions. The distribution of power in the world therefore lies at the core of the climate crisis. (Ghosh, ‘The Great Derangement’, University of Chicago Press, 2016, p. 146; our emphasis) Tackling climate change thus means tackling global inequity. This requires a deep-rooted commitment to not just ‘a redistribution of wealth but also to a recalibration of global power’. He makes the crucial point that: From the point of view of a security establishment that is oriented towards the maintenance of global dominance, this is precisely the scenario that is most greatly to be feared; from this perspective the continuance of the status quo is the most desirable of outcomes. (Ibid., p. 143; our emphasis) The Myth of “Fearless and Free Journalism” The ‘mainstream’ media is not somehow separate from this state-corporate status quo, selflessly and valiantly providing a neutral window into what powerful sectors in society are doing. Instead, the major news media are an intrinsic component of this system run for the benefit of elites. The media are, in effect, the public relations wing of a planetary-wide network of exploitation, abuse and destruction. The climate crisis is the gravest symptom of this dysfunctional global apparatus. News reporting on the economy, for instance, is typically divorced from reporting on the climate crisis. Judging by the lack of attention given to climate in last year’s Autumn Statement, whether by Chancellor Philip Hammond himself or the media dutifully reporting on it, the global warming emergency had miraculously gone away. It is as if there are two separate planets: one where ‘the economy’ happens; and another one, the real world, which is beset by catastrophic climate change. Some readers will say: ‘But surely the best media – the likes of the BBC, the Guardian and Channel 4 News – report climate science honestly and accurately?’ Yes, to a large extent, they do a good job in reporting the science (though the BBC has often been guilty of ‘false balance’ on climate). But they rarely touch the serious, radical measures needed to address the climate crisis, or the nature and extent of the climate denial ‘Beast’. This is taboo; not least because it would raise awkward questions about rampant neoliberalism addressed, for example, by Naomi Klein in her books The Shock Doctrine and This Changes Everything. As Ghosh also observes, capitalism and imperialism are intertwined as primary drivers of the climate crisis. But when did a BBC environment, economics or business correspondent ever report this truth? Their silence is shameful; all the more so for their avowed responsibility to the public who funds them. Even the very fact ‘that we live in a world that has been profoundly shaped by empire and its disparities… remains largely unacknowledged.’ (Ibid., p. 146). It is certainly not acknowledged by the BBC and the rest of the major news media for which the public is supposed to be grateful. The BBC still reflects its origins in empire and the establishment while proclaiming falsely its ‘independence’ and ‘impartiality’. Consider, for example, that Sir David Clementi, former deputy governor of Bank of England, has just been confirmed as the new BBC chair. This, in a nutshell, is how the state-corporate media system operates. A former banker will become the new chair of the ‘independent’ BBC, appointed by the government. This is all part of the fiction of ‘media plurality’, ‘impartiality’ and ‘freedom’ from ‘political interference’. Even when the Guardian recently ran a live page on climate change on the day that President Trump took office, with a follow-up titled, ‘So you want to be a climate campaigner? Here’s how’, the paper’s compromised worldview was all too apparent. The top of the Guardian‘s website proudly proclaimed: With climate sceptics moving into the White House, the Guardian will spend the next 24 hours focusing on the climate change happening right now, and what we can do to help protect the planet. But you would have searched in vain for any in-depth analysis of how Big Business, together with co-opted governments, have hurled massive resources at stifling any real progress towards tackling climate change, and ‘what we can do’ about that. In particular, there was no Guardian commitment to drop any – never mind all – fossil-fuel advertising revenue. The proposal to reject ads from ‘environmental villains’ had been put to the paper by its own columnist George Monbiot in 2009, following a challenge from Media Lens. It got nowhere. Significantly, the Guardian‘s ‘focused’ climate coverage once again steered clear of its own questionable behaviour and its structural ties to elite money and power. Meanwhile, the paper continues to be riddled with ads promoting carbon emissions – notably short-haul flights and cars – ironically appearing right beside articles about dangerous global warming. Even as such glaring contradictions, omissions and silences become ever more apparent to Guardian readers, the paper is ramping up its appeals for readers to dip into their pockets. When Trump triumphed in the US election last November, Lee Glendinning, the editor of Guardian US, pleaded: Never has the world needed independent journalism more. […] Now is the time to support journalism that is both fearless and free. She deployed standard, self-serving Guardian rhetoric: Because the Guardian is not beholden to profit-seeking shareholders or a billionaire owner, we can pursue stories without fear of where they might take us, free from commercial and political influence. In repeatedly churning out the myth about the Guardian being ‘free from commercial and political influence’, any public doubts about its pure nature are supposed to be dispelled. But there comes a point where the readers know their intelligence is being insulted. And we are now well past that point. The Guardian‘s complicit role as a liberal gatekeeper of truth will not – cannot – be honestly addressed by the Guardian itself; nor by the well-rewarded journalists and commentators who appear regularly in its pages. The current era of ‘great derangement’ will last as long as the public allows news and debate to be manipulated by a state-corporate media system that is complicit in killing the planet. We urgently need to consider alternatives for the sake of humanity. http://clubof.info/