#the only upside to winter is the comfy sweaters

[ghost-infestation]

The Little Boy and the Little Men

There once was a little boy who lived in an old house by the woods. His family were seamsters, and unlike his siblings, he, too, wanted to become a seamster when he grew up. He was very little, however, and his mother did not want him near the big sewing machine, fearing that he would hurt himself, So he practiced his craft by making tiny clothes for his sister’s dolls. He made tiny dresses, tiny hats, tiny trousers, shirts, frocks, jackets, even unfeasibly tiny little socks. He made enough of them to outfit his sister’s entire collection, and then he kept making more. Soon enough, an entire miniature pantry was filled to the brim.

It just so happened that the house in which the little boy and his family lived made a lot of noise at night, especially in winter when the cold winds moaned in the rafters. The boy was very little, and scared of the dark. So when one night he lay awake and heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet on the floorboards, his terrified mind did not draw the obvious conclusion – one of the mice that had been chewing holes into the walls was on a late night stroll to steal some cheese from the kitchen – but instead envisioned tiny gnomes roaming through the house, darting from mousehole to shady corner.

He didn’t get any sleep that night, his mind full of far too vivid visions. When the morning came at last, his sister complained that some of the clothes he had sewn for her dolls had gone missing. And after an almost sleepless night of terror, the little boy did not draw the obvious conclusion – that his sister had simply mislaid the doll clothes, or that some were blown below a dresser by the icy winter winds that night – but instead was convinced through and through that the little gnomes had stolen some of his clothes.

His parents and older brothers simply smiled in amusement when he told them his theory; his sister was more inclined to believe him, but she pictured them as snarling little demons, and scoffed at his description of colorfully skinned, lanky little men with heads like marbles. They argued about it long and hard, until tears flowed and parents were called, and the boy went to bed sulkily that evening. He HAD been working on some lovely little winter hats for the dolls, but he felt disinclined to give them to her now. He went into an uneasy sleep, trying to listen for the little feet pattering around the house. He thought he heard them a few times, but was  too scared – and perhaps too tired – to go and investigate.

This went on like this for a few days, and eventually the boy wanted to reconcile with his sister. He went to grab the winter hats he’d made to offer them as a peace gift. Only they weren’t where he had left them. He turned his room upside down trying to find them, but they were nowhere to be seen.

He realized two things, then. Firstly, obviously the gnomes had taken the hats.

And secondly, the gnomes must be freezing in this frigid winter.

It was the only thing that made sense. Why else would they be stealing clothes of all things? They probably didn’t have a lot of wool, or fabric, or needles small enough for their little hands. Clothes in their size had to be in short supply.

The little boy was still a little scared, but he also felt bad for the gnomes. He knew that stealing was wrong, and the gnomes should not be stealing his sister’s things. But he also knew that giving gifts was good. So he sat down and started knitting. He made little sweaters in all the colors he could get his hands on. By the end, his fingers hurt, but he had made a nice little stack of warm, comfy gnome-sized sweaters.

He laid out his creations in front of a mousehole in his room, and he sat down on the floor. He was determined to meet his nightly visitors face to face. He wrapped himself in his blanket to ward off the cold, and waited.

But he was tired from all the effort that had gone into knitting the sweaters, and before long, he fell asleep.

When he woke up the next morning, the sweaters were gone.

He was angry with himself for falling asleep, and so he tried again. He knitted a pile of woolen trousers, and he laid them out in front of the mousehole again, and again, he sat there to wait.

And again, his exhaustion overtook him, and he fell asleep.

And again, the clothes he had knitted were gone when he awoke.

He didn’t let his failures stop him, and he spent all day meticulously knitting little woolen mittens. Each pair was its own unique color, and they even had little strings to tie them together. Again, he laid them out in front of the mousehole, and again he waited.

And this time, he managed to stay awake.

Eventually, after hours of patience, he saw a gnome hesitantly emerging from the mousehole.

The gnome looked up at him, fear in his little round eyes, and the boy looked back, just as scared. The gnome was wearing a tiny woolen sweater and a tiny pair of woolen trousers. They both didn’t move for a long time. Then, the gnome quickly snatched up the mittens and disappeared back into his hole.

The boy was excited, and he ran to his parents to tell them of his discovery. His parents, however, were not excited. In fact, they were worried. They told him that he was spending too much time indulging his overactive imagination. They pointed out how red and sore his fingers were from all the knitting. They told him to go to sleep, and his father promised that he would find some more chores for him to do to keep him busy with a less unhealthy occupation.

The boy was distraught. He knew he had seen the gnomes, and he didn’t understand why his parents wouldn’t believe him. The gnomes were so clearly real! He grumpily did the chores his father assigned him, but still he used every free moment to make winter clothes for the gnomes.

They were more trusting of him now, and they stayed around him longer each night. And more of them came to meet him, too. Dozens of gnomes came to visit his room at night, each a different color, and each wearing the matching color of winter clothes.

Eventually, the boy even figured out how to speak with them. The gnomes told him about the world they came from, their little homes in the walls, about the mice that they rode around in their tunnels under the earth. In turn, the boy told them of his own world, his parents, his siblings, his neighbors, whatever the gnomes wanted to hear. He made them little leather saddles so they could ride their mice more easily. He brought them scraps of human food to try, and in turn they brought him gnome food. He didn’t like the gnome food very much, and it made him quite sick, so the gnomes stopped bringing it, but he still brought them little bits of mother’s leftovers every night.

But nobody else ever saw them.

When his mother opened the door to check up on him, the gnomes were gone so fast, he couldn’t even see where they went. When he convinced his sister to sleep in his room for a night to show her the gnomes, and to show her that he was right about what they looked like, the gnomes would not show. No matter what he tried to do, he could not get anyone else to see the gnomes.

Time passed.

The boy was not so little anymore, and his hands were not as good at making little clothes. Even after all these years, however, he met the gnomes every night. He had even started seeing them during the day, now, scampering around the kitchen, climbing through the rafters, tilling the gardens with plows pulled by mice.

And still, nobody else had ever seen them.

A suspicion grew within the boy over the years.

“Are you real?” he asked one of the gnomes one night as he was sitting on the floor of his room.

“Why would you ask me that?” replied the gnome, adjusting the now quite old and worn woolen cap the boy had knitted all those years ago.

“Because you don’t make sense!” replied the boy. “I’ve seen you for all these years, but nobody else has! You look exactly what I imagined you like, and furthermore, you look ridiculous! Nothing like you should be able to exist! You wear only the clothes I’ve made for you, even though they’re old and worn! What did you wear before I started making clothes for you? How did you survive the winters? How can it be that nobody else sees you? You must be imaginary.”

The gnome thought long and hard about what to reply. Finally, he spoke:

“Am I imaginary? How could I tell you that? Maybe you imagined me; maybe my world doesn’t make sense. But how would I know? I’ve known no other world. I can see my hands in front of my eyes, I can feel the floor beneath my feet, I can hear your voice and the rustling of the trees outside. How could I know if I was real? And furthermore, how could you?”

The boy frowned.

“What do you mean? Of course I’m real! I’m a human! I’m learning a trade!”

“Yet you spent your entire childhood knitting clothes for ridiculous little men! What kind of real boy would spend his time that way? Maybe my world only makes sense to me because you imagined it so; what says that yours isn’t the same?”

The boy didn’t know what to reply to that. Finally, he said:

“But… if I stop imagining you, will you disappear? Will you die? And… if I am imaginary, will I die too if whoever thought me into this bizarre world stops thinking about me?”

The gnome smiled ruefully.

“How could we know? We only know the world we were pictured with. You will never know where we go when you stop thinking about us. And perhaps that’s scary, both for you and me. But maybe it won’t be so bad? There’s only one way to find out. What do you say, little boy? Let’s go to the place to which we can’t be followed.”

[a-bananas-fashion-blog]

[subwaysurf45]

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.6)

Summary:  you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Words: 3k.

Episode: six

Warnings: angst, crying

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Five

Time: 10:11pm

Date: October 4th, 2024

Bucky finally left your medical room after everyone cleared out. His heart rate was way too fast for his liking and he knew he needed a second, this issue wouldn’t be fixed overnight and he knew what was coming. As he walked to your shared room everyone looked at him, there was no real reason but they watched anyway. The feeling burned into his back, the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention until he turned the corner. 

The moment he walked in and shut the door, Bucky threw himself back against it for support. His eyes squeezed so tight it burned and his chest moved rapidly with his breathes. Knees bent and he was curled up on the floor, though no one was in the room to see him he still covered his face as he cried, he was still getting used to being able to show himself crying. Little pleads to no one came out as whimpers as Bucky struggled to catch his breath, he was rocking back and forth but not really getting anywhere. 

“Please…let her be okay…” he cried to the ceiling. 

All Bucky could see was the way your face fell and your body became rigid at the sound of a command, you were such a carefree spirit that seeing you fight back against your own mind when following rules hurt Bucky. He’d never seen anything like this when he was at Hydra, he was used to the brainwashing and the large machines but Hydra got so good they could fit years of tourture into a little syringe. Bucky was either kept in a cell or put under ice, he couldn’t image what it was like to be suspended by your neck for hours on end; medical staff said the bruising indicate a total of over twenty four hours suspended. 

Part of him, selfishly, wanted you to keep thinking that it was still only one day since you were kidnapped, he didn’t want you to remember what had happened to you. It was selfish and, to him, unethical to wish someone to forget a new main point in their life but he wanted you to be somewhat okay. But since you were disoriented now he knew that meant it would all come back slowly, most likely over nightmares and triggers. Simply from the way he saw your face fill with sadness when he’d wake you up in the middle of the night to tell you he had a nightmare, Bucky knew he’d be destroyed if he ever saw you deal with a nightmare, getting triggered and nightmares were the one thing Bucky never wished on his worst enemy, they were unbearable. 

He needed to make the room feel safe, you’d probably stay in here for a while and slowly get used to the rest of the compound. Bucky changed the sheets and got you comfy clothes ready on the bed, it was one of his old sweaters and some loose shorts. He got the bathroom tidy because he’d get you in the shower whenever you’d wake up and come to the room, your hair care bottles were full and didn’t need to be tipped upside down. 

Near the end of his cleaning session he found a polaroid on your side of the dresser, it was one Wanda took on movie night. You had just labeled yourself a couple and told the rest of the team so the both of you had begun to show a little more PDA, Bucky remembered he was still hesitant but you’d warmed up to the idea. You’d kiss him on the cheek as you walked past him in the kitchen and pull him in for a hug whenever, you were a sucker for PDA and it always made you so flustered when Bucky would kiss the top of your head. You’d lose control and just cover your face to try and hide the smile, you’d feel the blush even if you couldn’t see it. Bucky would always try and see your face, he’d pull at your hands and coo softly to see his ‘pretty girl’ which would make you a goner. So when Wanda held her polaroid camera in front of you two Bucky knew he wanted to do something special, as she counted down Bucky got ready for his little surprise. As she hit one Bucky turned his head and kissed you cheek, holding his lips there to make sure it got in the photo. 

When the photo developed you swooned over it, your face was completely shocked, the camera caught your mouth hung wide open and your eyes wide. Bucky just smiled with a little pride as he watched you run your finger over the picture in love, when you tucked it in your phone case for now Bucky kissed the top of your head and turned back to the movie. 

Bucky placed the picture back on the dresser before getting the door because there was a knock that kicked him out of the memory. He opened it to see Steve with you in a wheelchair, you looked stressed until you saw Bucky. 

“See, he's right there, don’t worry.” Steve said before wheeling you in and handing you over to Bucky, “she’s really jumpy and thinks everything is fake, anything is going to freak her out.” Steve whispered in the exchange, Bucky looked at you with a nod, you didn’t hear them. After a hug, Steve left, the door to your room closed so softly no noise came out. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” Bucky waked around so he could kneel in front of you, “what’s going on?” you still looked like a deer in headlights.

“I don't- I’m still- I can’t really-” your hand came to touch your neck, a something to soothe yourself. 

“Sh-sh-sh, it’s okay, don’t freak out,” Bucky hushed before wheeling you into the bathroom, “we’re gonna give you a shower and then cuddle for a bit- or do you want food first?” Bucky leaned over to make eye contact with you, he fished for a granola bar in his back pocket and pulled it out. 

“I could eat,” you nodded and looked forward again, “I-I haven’t eaten in...ten days…” you muttered and rubbed your hand up and down your forearm. 

“You know what day it is?” Bucky asked and got a hum in response, he came around and sat on the toilet to match your level. “You need help eating?” Bucky asked so softly, his voice went up a few octaves. 

“I-y-yeah, I think I do…'msorry…” Your eyes became a little glossy. 

“Don’t worry,” Bucky hushed and quickly opened the snack, “I’m gonna be here for you all the time, and I want to be, okay?” He held out the bar for you to bite, you barely got any but it was still enough to make you feel sick. 

“All I’ve had is fluid food, I can’t stomach this,” you rested a bruised hand on your stomach. Bucky nodded and tried to get you to eat a little more, it worked until you were dry heaving over the toilet that Bucky was sitting on. As Bucky took off your hospital robe as you told him the bits you remembered from your captivity, parts had come back when you were sedated but there were still major gaps in your story. 

The water was running and both of you waited for it to warm up, “wanna join?” You asked as Bucky stood in his normal clothes, grey sweatpants and a navy blue shirt. 

“You sure?” He asked cautiously, “I’m gonna wash your hair and all that, but I can do that from outside the shower if you want some space.” Bucky eased, but when you nodded he got undressed as well. 

You stepped in first and almost collapsed at how calming it felt, the water pellets massaging your sore back and legs. Bucky let you hold his shoulders as you just swayed back and forth to let the water hit everywhere on your backside, he would kiss the back of your hand from time to time to let you know he was here because your eyes were closed. You tilted your head all the way back so the water hit your face, eyes squinted for a second before getting used to it. 

Bucky just took in that you were home, he’d spent all his time going from place to place in order to find you, he didn’t give himself time to breathe in between each trip. Bucky knew he would’ve felt guilty if he gave one day to rest during the mission to find you, he would have blamed everything on himself. Even though he still does blame it on himself Bucky knows he never gave up during those times which meant he could’ve found you sooner; that was a hard pill to swallow. 

The shower floor was beginning to turn dark red, the mud and blood were swirling together which made a very stark contrast between it and the while tile floor. It was a shower with a door but the panel was frosted, it made it seem like this was the only thing happening in the world right then. Time seemed to stop when he was in here with you, you’d taken showers together before but not for the same reason, Bucky never thought he’d have to deal with this. There wasn’t a light in the shower itself so the only light came through the frost panel, it was darker than normal and it seemed you both liked it. It was more intimate, Bucky didn’t even realize he was edging closer to you. His hand found its way to your hips and that did startle you, you squeezed his shoulders and kept your head tilted back to the showerhead. 

“I love you,” Bucky whispered, his fingers linking as he wrapped his arms all the way around you. He was met with your eyes as you looked down, now the water was hitting the back of your head. “Thank you for not dying, I-I don’t know what I would do without you.” He reached up to cup your cheek. 

Your lip quivered as you studied the man before you, he seemed freaked out that you were crying. “Do you remember the night I got taken?” your voice was thick with tears, “you yelled you loved me and I said-” you gasped as you tried to take a breath in, Bucky quickly eased you to a normal breathing rate, “I said I’d tell you I love you after all this would be done, I said we’d be okay…” you looked off to the tiled wall to try and hide your tears, “I never said I love you, I never got the chance, and I’m so sorry-!” You lunged forward with a yell-like sob, your arms wrapping around his neck as you cried hard into him. Little sounds were coming from you as you tried to talk but the lack of air and control you had over yourself didn’t let you form a syllable. Your back ridged outward as your dirty nails clawed at his back, trying to get closer even though you were already as close as possible. “I remembered it when I woke up, I needed to find you to tell you, I needed-I need-”

“It’s okay,” Bucky whispered through your slightly wet and clumpy hair, his hand cupping the back of your head which made your hair more tangled. “I always know you love me, It’s okay.” His other hand rubbed hard against your back, almost trying to push everything out of you, it wasn’t aggressive but rather soothing. “And you're right, we are going to be okay, doll.” His lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. 

You pulled your chest away, your eyes looking between his, “I’m not okay,” you cried, “how can I be? I’m missing part of my nose!” you screamed, your voice cracked as the bruise shifted on your neck. 

“It will grow back, it will be okay,” he looked down to your nose, it wasn’t sliced at the bridge but rather the bulb, it was all cartilage and if it didn’t grow back then it would be an easy job to fix. 

He stood there with you as you cried on his shoulder, he was silently thanking Tony for the great facility because anywhere else would have left them with cold water at that this point. Though your knees were shaking and buckling he held your body weight and kept you up so you, every so often he’d whisper something in your ear but for the most part he let you cry it all out. You’d do this to him so many times, you had told him once when Bucky was crying over a very scary mission that ‘you shouldn’t stop someone from crying when they’re upset like you wouldn’t stop someone from laughing when they're happy’. You needed to let go of those emotions at that time and Bucky learned to be okay with that. 

Soon enough he was scrubbing deep into your hair as he talked about all the things he could think of to keep your mind off the elephant in the room, he’d focus on your hair but then quickly look at your face to make sure you were okay. Sometimes he’d catch you looking and quickly plant a kiss on your forehead. His fingers tangled in your hair and the suds fell down the side of your face, none got in your eyes because they had fluttered shut from the relaxation. 

The water shut off and Bucky helped you dry off, he was gentle with the towel as he rubbed all around your body, when he dried himself he’d go hard and really uncoordinated but with you he treated you like glass. You were swaddled in your comfy clothes and Bucky stood beside you as you put on some moisturizer, he’d look between your reflection and you to make sure nothing was going wrong, a hand hovered over your back just to be safe. 

“You wanna try eating?” He asked softly before kissing your temple.

You just nodded, your head stayed tilted down as you followed him out of the bathroom. Bucky didn’t think people would be in the kitchen and they weren’t. As Bucky made you a sandwich Nat had walked in just to say hi and to tell you she was so happy you came back, Nat placed a little kiss on the crown of your head; that was unheard of from her. 

Sam made an appearance, his eyes were misty and his nose was a little red. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help, Fury needed help with another mission but it ended up falling through and- I’m just really sorry I couldn’t be there for you, honestly.” Sam rubbed your back as you nodded. 

“It’s okay, I forgive you, I was never really mad.” You shrugged and Sam gave one last farewell before heading into his room for the night. 

As you ate your food, Bruce came into the kitchen. Bucky just wanted you to have some space but was shocked when Banner called for him. “Barnes,” Bruce’s voice startled you a bit. 

Bucky followed Bruce around the hall so you were out of earshot. “I know a way to get this serum out of her,” was what he started with. Bucky just looked at him like he was crazy, “we tested her blood and it seemed her body is rejecting a bit, it hasn’t really connected like the super soldier serum has with you and Steve, these are completely different compounds in her case.” Bruce leaned over to make sure she wasn’t listening, “my lab is making an antidote that will be given to her once in pill form, she’ll be down for a day but the antidote will fight off this serum,” Banner smiled. 

“What are the risks?” Bucky whispered even though you weren’t listening. 

“A really intense cold, and maybe...y’know...it might not work, that’s a thing.” Bruce shrugged, “but it will work, I’m very confident.” Bruce looked off to the side, “oh!” something had popped into his mind, “I can also get her nose filled, while she was sedated we looked and because her body is fighting against the serum we found the decaying has slowed.” 

Bucky took a deep breath before nodding, “run it by her tomorrow, she needs some time.” the two of them shook hands and went their separate ways, Bucky made his way back to the kitchen counter to see a sandwich with three bites taken out of it. “How are we doing over here?” Bucky's hand felt along your back as he sat down. 

“I can’t finish it, I’m sorry,” You said softly, you pushed the plate towards him. 

“That’s alright, let’s go to bed, yeah?” Bucky eased you up and walked you to the bedroom again. 

It took a while to get you rested but once your breath steadied Bucky shifted and put your head on his bare chest, he just wanted to watch you for a bit. As much as he wanted to give you space he couldn’t imagine leaving your side for a second, he knew it might bug you but he didn’t care. You were his girl and needed to help you when you were down, he was going to pull your weight when you couldn’t because he couldn’t count how many times you’d done it for him. 

A tear rolled down his cheek and he rubbed his back, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I should have done better, I shouldn’t have run out when you told me to, I should have stayed and fought all of them when they attacked, I-I,” he pulled his breath back to make sure he wasn’t waking you up, “I’m the reason this happened, and I’ll do better,” he kissed the top of your head, his eyes squeezed so tight some tears managed to get out, “I promise.”

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine​ @commonintrest​ @buckyys-doll​  @lil-baby-nor @wafflesncream​

let me know if you want a tag!!!

A/N: AHHHH THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!

I’ve never hit a milestone on here before but I want to know what you want to see for some type of 100 follower oneshot, I’m down for anything. If you want to send a prompt or idea just put it here or send it as an ask or direct message me, anything works. 

Thank you for being here, thank you for reading. There will probably be two or three more episodes so look out for that!

-Rambo <3

[jbbuckybarnes]

The Setup

Bucky x Reader (Agent 16) Description: Natasha & Wanda really want to make Agent 16 and Bucky to get together and have no problems with going to great lengths. Warnings: fluff, teasing, oblivious friends, kissing, dancing, dumbasses, not beta read

Agent 16 Masterlist | General Masterlist

"She stopped wearing anyone's sweater and started only wearing Bucky's ones. Do you not think that's weird?" Nat looked at Steve and Wanda. "He pretty much exclusivly wears jumpers around here and they just got closer the last weeks. I think it's just normal to have bias." Steve shrugged. "Steve, they flirt like it's an olympic sport. They are totally crushing on each other." Wanda looked at him. "All I know is that he's comfortable with her and she is comfortable with him. The rest is not my business." he held his hands up. "Well, maybe they need a little push." Nat smirked. "What's the plan?" Wanda mirrored her expression.

After a two-day mission you were finally back at the compound and standing in the elevator to the second floor with Bucky. You were exhausted, done, totally ready to sleep. The elevator stopped...too soon. "Really?" he grumbled and typed the button for emergencies. "I just want to sleep." you whined. "I know. Me too, sugar." he watched you sit down and undo your tactical belt and the straps around your chest keeping you safe from gunshots. "Need some help?" he sent a soft smile. You were a little clumsy and childlike when you were tired and he knew he needed to give you attention and love. "Please." he sat down in front of you, helping you out of your gear while you pouted at him. "If they take too long I'm just getting us out of here myself, okay?" he cooed. "I'm so tired," you whispered, "I just want a giant sweater and my bed." "I know, darling." he pulled you closer and onto his lap. You nuzzled into his neck with your eyelids slowly getting heavier. "You can fall asleep, I'll keep you save." metal fingers went over your hair. "You're the best." you mumbled. "I've been told so." he smiled before grabbing you closer and continuing the wait for help. You both didn't know that this was the teams doing, this elevator made problems all the time. Steve once managed to just press open the door simply because it took too long to work again. "Mr. Stark is on his way." Fridays voice came up and made you jolt awake in his arms. "Thank you Friday." you said sleepy. "Agent 16, you're sleep deprived. Please rest as soon as this is resolved." the AI said after checking their vitals like the protocol said. "I just wanna cry right now, I feel horrible and I wanna sleep." you mumbled against Bucky's neck. "You want me to get us out?" he asked. "Please. I never wanted to lay in my bed so bad." you mumbled back. He slowly sat you down next to him before pushing open the door a little to see how close they were to the second floor. A grumble was a bad answer. He looked up at the square and pushed it open. "Can you do me a favor and climb through first?" he said in a calm voice and you stood up and after balancing yourself out he pushed you up through the opening. The elevator was perfectly between the two floors. Almost too perfect for Bucky's taste. He reached for the doors emergency lock, taking something from his gear to open it. "God, the perks of being the Winter Soldier." you smiled. You finally stepped on the stable ground of the second floor. "You know. Technically you shouldn't leave the car if you're not a trained elevator technician...but I guess you get a free pass." you giggled. He put his arm around you, "You need sleep darling." "Yes, I definitely do." In front of your door he gave you a small kiss on the forehead before he left for his room. "Okay, we had bad timing. What if it's a little bit of a more domestic setting?" Nat said to Steve and Wanda. "Uuuuh, I have a good idea." Wanda grinned. Bucky was casually relaxing on the couch with a book about overcoming mental illness. He oddly enjoyed that genre because it had so many wise quotes coming with it that he wrote down later. You came into the room and sat down next to him with your sketchbook and started drawing. The door was closed behind you, making both of you flinch. "Who the fuck closed and locked my door!?" Steve suddenly yelled out and you looked at each other. "This entire house is malfunctioning." you giggled. "Wanna cuddle?" he grinned and you softly smiled back. Being the little spoon was always so warm and homey for you but it also brought up memories. Dirty memories. "I'm not the only one thinking about THAT, right?" you giggled. "No, definitely not." he laughed behind you. "We're a mess." you declared. "I feel like that's a basic need to be an Avenger." he said and you turned around in his arms. "This comfy enough?" you nodded. "Don't know how it's comfy to lay on a metal arm but if you're fine with it..." he made a grimasse. "It's fine with the sweater over it. I like it." you said coming closer to him, almost being in the crook of his neck. "You're a human blanket again, I see." he chuckled. "It's my true form." you smiled. "Your true form is pretty adorable." "I know right?" "Idiot." "No, that's you, James." you giggled. "Fine." "You wanna watch a show later?" he asked after a little bit of silence. "Mhm. Why not?" you mumbled back and your head went up. His heart melted at the view of your hair a little messed up and your eyes being a little hazy. With a soft smile he corrected your hair. "Softie." you smiled at him. "Only for you, sugar." "Is it cause I smell like you?" you giggled, putting your little sweater paw over your face. "Maybe a little bit." he was so whipped for you, it was insane. "Could just take thousands of pictures of you. You look so madly adorable right now with your small hands peaking out of the sleeves." his eyes were shimmering at you. "You should see yourself right now." another giggle that made him almost lose it. He mouthed a, "I wanna kiss you so bad right now." And you smiled at him with a, "Rules are Rules." "Weren't rules meant to be broken." he challenged you. "-James Buchanan Barnes, the man that assassinated JFK as the The Winter Soldier." you laughed. "I see how that might be a bad thing to say in public." he joined in. "I love you for bullshit like this." you squeezed his biceps. "I aim to make you laugh." he planted a kiss on your forehead. "And we both know your aim is pretty much perfect." you flirted. The team watching you was internally screaming at how oblivious you were. "Wanna steal Sam's food?" he suggested and you were in. The both of you got up and wandered to the fridge and took whatever you wanted. "Being locked in the kitchen and living room has its upsides." you said with your mouth full. "Yeah, remember what I said last week?" he winked. "God, way to throw me off my happy mood." you said fake offended remembering his remark about wanting to see you in a different position in correlation to this kitchen counter. "One day." he smirked mischievously. "One day, maybe." you got him closer with your legs while sitting on the counter. "Don't maybe me. You know that WILL happen." "I'm not against it. You'd just need to hack around a little." you bit your lip. If you were continuing like this he'd not be able to keep it in his pants. "If these doors don't open soon we're making a blanket fort." "Deal." "They really don't get it. They just." Wanda mumbled. "Let 'em be. Maybe they both just need time to go in their own pace. Bucky's been through a lot. 16 also has a lot she's been through. Maybe they just need to heal first." Steve pointed out. "I guess you're right." Nat mumbled. You'd started dancing to your Spotify playlist after a while and paced around the room together to waste a bit of time together and he really enjoyed all the smiles and giggles he got out of you today. "I'm glad you're so happy today, sugar." he grabbed your waist a little closer. "I'm glad we're locked in together, would be too boring without you." and he grabbed you even closer. "James Barnes. What did I say about rules?" "Well, when I see you and then the rules, I'd rather have you." he smirked smoothly. "This ONE TIME, okay?" you smiled up before he leaned down for a gentle kiss. When wind hit you both you went apart and looked up at a slightly shocked team. "See? This is why I didn't wanna do that. Rules." you mumbled. He just grabbed you with an eyeroll and kidnapped you to his room. "Did they just!?" Nat mumbled. "Where they already!?" Wanda mumbled back. Steve shook his head chuckling, "I've seen that coming from a mile away."

[tirednotflirting]

hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you (and i will hold on to you)

part two to but we were something, don’t you think so?

because I actually cannot stand leaving something too open ended. enjoy.

and if you want it, check it out on ao3 here

It’s a freezing cold, early Tuesday morning when Luke sees Ashton for the first time since the almost (but not quite) meeting at the stoplight at the edge of campus.

(This time it’s been 5 months and 4 days since he last saw Ashton. Back then his hair was longer and his attire was hardly weather appropriate. Luke had been paralyzed by memories and a thousand different what if possibilities, none of which had come true.)

It had been quite a hectic morning up to that point. Luke’s alarm had failed to go off (again) and it's the last day he’ll be meeting for his Advanced Linear Algebra course and it’s pretty vital that he make it to that lecture so he knows what to focus on for the final they’re having the next week. He rushes around the apartment, cursing Calum silently for not waking him. He knows it isn’t his roommate’s responsibility to keep track of Luke’s oversleeping habit but they’ve been living together for two years now and Luke has definitely had to wake Calum up to get to exams on time before. 

He rushes through an augmented version of his morning routine, quickly brushing his teeth and shoving a beanie over his bedhead curls, momentarily thankful for the cold that required something to cover his ears. He trips over himself as he pulls on a pair of jeans while shoving his textbooks and journals into his backpack. On his way out the door, Luke hastily locks it since he isn’t sure if Calum ended up back in his bedroom the night before or if he stayed with Michael again. He skips waiting for the elevator to race down the stairs and out the front door of his complex.

He’s finished running the first block when he feels his phone buzz and he’s already winded so he figures stopping for a quick second to check the message (likely one from Calum if he is home to ask why Luke slammed the front door) wouldn’t hurt. Only the notification wasn’t a text, it was an email from Luke’s professor.

My wife and I caught some bug over the weekend so class today will be canceled. I am sad to miss our last meeting but please feel free to come with any questions to my extended office hours later this week. Attached is the concept guide for the final I planned to go over today. Happy studying.

Luke takes a deep breath in through the nose and imagines the air he can see from the cold after exhaling to be all of the anger he feels at having to rush through the apartment for nothing. He considers for a moment just turning around and getting in some more rest since his next class isn’t until 3. But he’s got the study guide now and he is (unfortunately) awake, so he starts toward the university still but figures he can reward himself for not going back home with a coffee from the shop just off campus. 

Though tired still, Luke walks briskly to the shop since he had only grabbed his cardigan that he leaves hanging by the door since he couldn’t be bothered to hunt around for his coat. Especially so because he’s pretty sure it may still be in the back of Michael’s car anyway. He doesn’t live too far from campus though so soon enough, he’s pushing against the door to enter the warm shop. 

He’s always loved this place. The exposed brick and odd collection of thrift store comfy chairs and tables make the shop look like a scene out of a TV show about college or something and Luke lives for any cheesy college experience he can get. He especially loves it there in the winter, when he knows he can step inside with a bright red nose and immediately be enveloped with a cinnamon scented warmth that the chain places could only ever dream of achieving. 

He steps to the counter and orders one of the seasonal lattes to have in a mug rather than a to go cup and after providing his name and paying the kind, blushing girl at the register, he turns to find a spot to cozy up in for the next few hours.

And that’s when he locks eyes with Ashton.

His hair is shorter and red now, like the color on a candy cane but deeper and it matches the blush currently spread across his cheeks. He’s at one of the bigger tables, surrounded by several textbooks and journals. His glasses sit on the edge of his nose, threatening to fall onto the pages in front of him. The dark sweater he has on is the kind that makes his hazel eyes appear a bit darker around the edges. 

Luke’s attention is briefly drawn away from him when he hears his name called from the counter and he jumps just slightly and before quickly turning to go get the mug, he swears he sees a smirk play at the edges of Ashton’s lips. 

He reaches the counter and thanks the barista and when he turns back, Ashton is standing right in front of him and it takes everything in Luke to not drop the mug of sugary coffee. His momentary observation about Ashton’s eyes is emphasized further now that they stand only a couple feet away from one another, the closest they’ve been physically in nearly 18 months.

“Would you like to join me at my table?” Ashton asks, the words coming out quick but with a tone of hesitation, as though his brain was fighting against his lips on whether or not to ask. 

Luke had imagined a moment almost exactly like this a million different ways. Only recently had he given up on the idea of ever running into him again, of being asked to join him for a meeting that would become another big, Hollywood produced moment in Luke’s memory. However, in every one of those fantasies that Luke had allowed to play out in his mind, he had failed to factor in what it would feel like to hear the forgotten voice of a lost love. He felt like he had been betrayed by his own memories because the voice he had been hearing as he tried to sleep wasn’t the exact tone or depth of what he had just heard again. 

After a moment, Luke releases the breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding in as he speaks just one word. “Yes.”

He follows Ashton back to the table, letting his bag fall off his shoulder to gently land at the floor and sets his mug down a safe distance from the big, scary law textbooks Ashton has opened up on the table. He takes a seat but keeps his feet tucked below his chair, worried that any direct physical contact might cause a forest fire or something. “Are you already studying for the bar then?”

Ashton’s brows shoot up as he takes his place on the opposite side of the table. “Oh, um yes,” he nods quickly, a faint blush still painted on his cheeks. “I’m taking the exam at the beginning of June but I haven’t taken a look at some of this stuff in ages, you know?”

Luke nods slowly, remembering the times they would lie in bed together after Ashton had been accepted to their university’s law program and Luke would run his fingers up and down his back while listening to Ashton speak excitedly about far off exams and internships. He had told him all about it because Luke was supposed to be there, cheering him on while he read and interpreted case files. A lot had changed. 

He’s pulling his textbook out of his bag and setting it on the table while trying to think of more to say when Ashton speaks first. “Linear Algebra? Were you able to get into Henderson’s course? I know you always talked about him like he was a rock star during registration week.”

Luke’s throat feels dry and he’s wondering if this is all maybe actually a dream. Like maybe he’ll wake up in a few minutes to the alarm he thought he missed this morning and this is all just his subconscious playing a really cruel joke on him. “Yeah, our last lecture was meant to be this morning but he’s sick and,” Luke pauses for a moment and takes another deep breath and sip of his drink and realizes he cannot make small talk with someone who used to be his entire world. “Ashton, what’s going on?”

Ashton licks his lips before opening his mouth as though to respond but Luke cuts him off. “You dumped me with no warning at all because you were worried about making his law thing work and now you’re inviting me to sit with you while you study for the bar and my head is spinning.”

“I miss you.”

“Wha-”

“And I know that’s bullshit and I know it's been like a year and a half and I know that I saw you in the summer and I didn’t say anything and that was probably the worst thing I’ve ever done,” he speaks quickly, something like panic at the edge of his words. “I let my insecurity get the best of me. I convinced myself I wasn’t going to be good enough at this and that I would have to spend all my time working on all of this and that I wouldn’t have enough time left to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. I was so scared of us turning into an afterthought in my mind.”

“So rather than talking to me you just ended it so we wouldn’t have to be a thought at all?” Luke scoffs. 

“I wanted to give you the world. I wanted you to be my world. Nothing less than that seemed worthy. And if I wasn’t going to be able to give that to you, I didn’t want to keep you from the possibility of finding someone who could.”

“Damn it, Ashton,” Luke shakes his head and checks around for people looking to make sure his volume is controlled. “All I wanted was you. Fuck, all I want is you.”

“Even now?” the red headed boy whispers, his eyes just a touch glossy. “Even after July?”

Luke feels a burning at his eyes and immediately blames the cold wind, despite being inside for nearly 15 minutes now. “July ripped my heart apart in a way that I had never felt before. And in a way, I think it was what I needed. Like, it had a sense of finality to it. And I’ve been doing better. But that doesn’t change the fact that I would turn the entire world upside down for you. For us.”

They’re both quiet for a few minutes after that. Luke takes a few more sips of his drink and watches the steam rise from the mug in between each one. Eventually he looks past the steam to where Ashton sits as he takes Luke in. Like he’s trying to see into his thoughts. Eventually he clears his throat and runs a hand through the red tousled curls.

“When I saw you in July, I didn’t say anything because I felt like nothing I could say to you would fix anything. That my trying to fix anything would be like trying to get the toothpaste back in the tube, ya know? But when I got home, I called my therapist and I just told her everything. I had never talked to her about us before because I was too scared of being judged. And when I told her that she told me it was pretty possible that the way I ended things was for the same reason. And so all semester I was trying to find a way to run into you again. And I guess the universe picked for that to happen today.”

“I just wanted to support you. Just wanted to love you,” Luke shakes his head, a sad smile pulling delicately at his cheeks.

“And I was so scared to let you.”

“Would you let me now?” Luke asks and hopes there’s less desperation in his voice than what he senses there to be. “Would you let me take care of you a bit? In the way you always did for me?”

Hesitantly, Ashton lifts his arm from where it’s been resting at this side and reaches a hand out over the papers taking up his half of the tablespace. “I’d love nothing more.”

Luke reaches a hand up and intertwines their fingers while his gaze stays locked with Ashton’s. He lets out a breathy giggle when Ashton moves to rub his thumb in small patterns on Luke’s palm, the blonde’s eyes dropping to where they rest. The hazel eyed boy smiles. “I know this conversation isn’t over and we really do have a lot of ground to cover. But I don’t ever want to go another day without making you laugh.”

Luke’s eyes widen, wondering if Ashton felt the weight of his words in the same way Luke did. But then he looks up from their hands to Ashton’s face again, only to find him nodding with understanding. Slowly, he lets his feet drop from where they’ve pulled below his chair and he feels his boots knock against Ashton’s. Neither make a move to change the position though. Luke bites his lip briefly in thought before replying. “I feel exactly the same.”

The rest of the morning and early afternoon are spent catching up in a way that should have felt strange, given that they were describing their day to day life to someone who they used to start and end every single one with. But it felt easy and it felt right and Ashton had been correct that they needed to sit down and talk through the hard stuff but there was always tomorrow (and every day after that). When it finally got to the time Luke needed to make his way over to the math department for his next class, Ashton offers to walk with him. As they continue conversation on their walk across the campus, Luke can’t help but notice how the whole scene feels like watching an old, beloved movie after not seeing it for a few years. Everything feels so familiar but there’s a new meaning to it, one that couldn’t be seen the first time around. 

When they reach the doors to the building, they stop just before the steps, their hands still tangled together between them. “Would you let me make you dinner tonight? I’ve got the stuff for that pasta thing you always liked and a bottle of red?” 

Luke smirks and lifts a brow, teasingly. “You drink red wine? Proper law student now, huh?” Ashton rolls his eyes but squeezes his palm against Luke’s. “But yes, that sounds nice. What’s the gate code?”

“Still the same.”

Luke lets out a laugh. “I’m sorry, you kept your gate code as your ex’s birthday?”

Ashton shrugs, a grin spreading across his own cheeks. “Listen, I knew I would never forget the code that way.”

Luke blushes, the whole day finally feeling real with that response because it was such an Ashton thing to do. Maybe they did still know each other. “I’ll see you later, Ash.”

“See you soon, Luke.”

They part ways then and Luke makes his way up the steps. He’s just about to reach for the door when something buried deep his mind tells him to turn around. And when he does, their eyes lock again and small matching smiles pull at their lips. And now Luke knows, he never has to worry about Ashton not looking back again.

*

[flapperfromthefuture]

Huh. Greenland is in the news a lot lately, for reasons that would only seem normal in some horrifically overblown satire.

My dad sent me two articles yesterday that quoted residents of tiny Kulusuk, Greenland, a village on the eastern coast of the country.

  Most people in this world have never set foot in Greenland (including the orange sociopath who wants to buy it. With what, the money from the for-profit concentration camps?). But my dad and I have, somehow.

It feels like a dream. Those halcyon days of 2008. My dad and I took a graduation trip to Scandinavia in July. We’re big fans of universal healthcare and the Maelstrom ride at Epcot (RIP), so we figured we’d feel right at home.

We flew Icelandair to Reykjavik—a big comfy plane, I remember—and in the seat pocket was a brochure advertising day trips to different destinations, including Greenland. My dad and I had talked about how Greenland would be close enough to visit while we were in Iceland, but in a very vague and alien way, like how you know you’ll be closer to the sun when you visit Hawaii but you don’t really think about it until you have a sunburn the shade of a pink hibiscus flower, and even then, you’re not going to visit.

Greenland was like that. We knew it would be nearby, but didn’t have the first idea of how to get there, or any clue what we would find if we did.

But now, I held Greenland in my hands. And it was a picture of a smiling elderly woman in a kayak in the middle of beautiful blue water lit by the sun. Greenland looked warm, inviting, and reasonably priced.

Later, my dad would joke that the brochure should’ve had a little asterisk that said, “Sun not included.”

We booked the excursion after a few days of traveling around Iceland, during which the sun never set, I taught my dad the correct pronunciation of “Bjork,” and narrowly stopped him from buying a heavy wool sweater that a) he would never wear, b) would take up a good 80% of his suitcase and c) COST $800 IN AMERICAN MONEY.

I was very keen on steering Dad towards light, easily transportable souvenirs, like hats and figurines of elves, because I’m the one who had to carry his suitcase all over Scandinavia.

Because, you see, my dad had a hernia. He’d been cleared for the trip and was having surgery as soon as we got home, but he wasn’t allowed to lift anything heavy or walk for too long. Fortunately, Iceland is full of cute shops and cafés with plenty of places to sit down and relax and have some delicious skyr, so we were doing great.

My dad asked the woman at the front desk of our hotel what the weather would be like in Greenland. She said it would be same as Iceland, crisp but sunny and in the high 50s.

This was a lie.

Of course, if we had done any research at all (we didn’t have decent smartphones yet! So long ago!), we would’ve been able to better prepare ourselves, but instead we went to the one Thai restaurant in Iceland and imagined what Greenland would be like.

I assumed that where we’d be going would have a national park vibe—lots of picnic tables and slightly terrifying bathrooms but lovely vistas and well-marked places of interest. Definitely a vending machine or two, probably a little café with sandwiches and chips and maybe a fruit cup. I pictured a single stoplight that was always blinking.

Dad, on the other hand, pictured multiple stoplights, full service restaurants and gift shops. My dad loves a good gift shop.

We walked to the city airport from our hotel. I wore a hoodie, my purse and a wool hat that I’d purchased as a souvenir, while Dad had a windbreaker and not one, but two hats—one for fashion, one for function. We both wore jeans and regular sneakers that were best suited for walking on pavement that has no moisture on it whatsoever.

My dad had a hernia.

We packed a little bag of muffins from the hotel’s breakfast spread, just in case we needed a snack on the flight or the café in Greenland was running low.

Naturally, we ate all the muffins while waiting to board the flight. It was eight in the morning, and we weren’t getting back to Iceland until six or seven in the evening.

“It’ll be okay,” said Dad, brushing muffin crumbs off his windbreaker.

We were flying Iceland’s internal airline, Flugfelag, which will be my alias if I ever go into hiding. Our ride was a twin engine propellor with fifty-six seats. Not a lot of wiggle room. I had never flown in a propellor plane before, and mostly associated them with “Things that James Bond or Indiana Jones have jumped/been thrown out of.”

And the plane’s name? The Fokker 50. Thank you and good night.

We met our excursion guide, Captain Karl, who was Danish. We were the only Americans on our excursion—everyone else was Japanese or Chinese. The rest of the flight had been booked by a Russian tour group, and they looked ready to go, with massive parkas and winter boots.

Our flight attendant was too tall for our plane. She was at least six feet tall (and wearing heels!) with long blonde hair and giant blue eyes full of fear. Her shoulders hit every overhead bin whenever she wobbled down the aisle. She had to stoop down to give the safety announcement so she wouldn’t bang her head on the ceiling.

During the safety announcement, Dad nudged me and said, “In the event of a water landing, you have fifteen seconds to live.”

The flight was only ninety minutes, but the last thirty were turbulent with steep rollercoaster drops and ghostly footprints of glaciers that grew as we descended.

We glided over pitch black water and grayish green ice floes, and then landed . . . on something that felt less like a runway and more like driving through a puddle.

“Dad, there’s mud on the window,” I said, trying to understand what I was seeing. Mud doesn’t hit airplane windows, not unless the baggage handlers are having a mud fight.

“What?” said Dad, as mud and gravel splattered against our first view of Greenland from the ground.

“It’s a dirt runway.”

Dad said, “Oh, that’s different,” but told me later that he was thinking, “This is a more remote place than I thought.”

The runway was dirt because a cement runway would freeze and break apart. Oh, and because of the weather, flights only ran (to this airport at least, in 2008) between May and September.

We climbed down the plane’s stairs and were immediately hit with a blast of freezing air. It was sleeting, a mix of ice and rain that couldn’t make up its mind, but in the wind it was just substantial enough to pierce your skin.

And we had a hoodie and a windbreaker, respectively.

The Russians were all putting on their parkas.

“Uh-oh,” said Dad.

Kulusuk’s airport is one of Greenland’s minor airports, about the size of an elementary school library, but they had a gift shop that sold winter coats. What luck! Dad beckoned me to try one on.

“Nice and warm—and they look pretty sharp!”

“Dad, did you see the price tags on these?”

“No, but they can’t be that bad.”

“They’re 7,000 Danish krone.”

“I’m good with that!”

“Dad, these coats are one thousand dollars each.”

“. . . Never mind,” said Dad.

Freezing would be bad, but cheaper—and easier to explain to my mom.

Captain Karl gathered us around and said that it would be a forty-five minute walk to the village of Kulusuk. That . . . wasn’t going to work for us. We explained to Captain Karl that my dad had a hernia and rather than rightfully berate us for going to Greenland with a hernia that could rupture at any second, Captain Karl yelled something to a guy in Danish and the guy yelled something back.

“Hans will take you,” said Captain Karl. “He’s outside.”

“Does he work here?” asked Dad.

“No, he just . . . hangs around.”

We met Hans at his truck and he was more than happy to have company on the drive to the village. The dirt road took us past walls of snow and along cliff edges with no guardrails to spoil our view of the glaciers below. The truck had no seatbelts, so I basically did a full somersault in the back every time we took a hairpin curve.

This truck could have been built by a movie production designer who was really gunning for an Oscar. I could actually see the dirt suspended in the air and smell the rust that covered every exposed surface. A thousand cigarette butts were artfully strewn around, and the battery light blinked a dull red, like it had been ignored for a very long time and was in no rush to alert anyone.

Dad got the front seat, and he was eager to ask Hans about life in Greenland. Hans was Danish but his wife was a native Greenlander Inuit. He had lived there a long time, but couldn’t remember exactly how long.

The landscape ahead of us was grey, bleak, and unending. And it was July.

“How short do the days get in the winter?” asked Dad.

Hans said, “Oh, the days don’t get short at all! In January we get five and a half hours of daylight. That’s not short.”

He took a curve around a snowbank at least thirty feet high, and I did a cartwheel in the backseat.

Hans added, with aching sincerity, “If I had to live somewhere where it was dark all the time, I’d get really depressed.”

Upside down in the backseat, I thought, “Holy shit.”

Five and a half hours of daylight means eighteen and a half hours of darkness.

Past the snowbank, the clouds parted enough for us to see a glimpse of a graveyard, and crayon-colored huts in the distance.

This was Kulusuk, sixty miles south of the Arctic Circle.

Hans dropped us off at the supermarket, which was maybe a quarter the size of the average American drugstore. Still, they had everything you could possibly need—medicine, fishing gear, diapers, meat, rifles, clothes, even gumballs.

Most people in Greenland still hunt and fish to survive. There was some fruit on the shelves, but it was all long past fresh and very expensive.

We waited for Captain Karl and the rest of the group to arrive. The few people who trickled in and out of the store looked startled at the sight of strangers just standing around, poorly dressed, but then just went on with their shopping. We met another Danish tour guide who lived in the village, and the local police officer. My dad, a former cop himself, was eager to talk to him, but he only spoke the Inuit language. The Danish guide explained that he didn’t have a badge, or training, or really many duties—he got the job because he liked driving the police cart.

In 2008, Kulusuk had 310 people. Now it’s around 280.

Captain Karl collected us—he had a very reserved Danish manner but I’m pretty sure he was both relieved and shocked that we had survived the ride—and we joined the group down the road in a large red building that served as a community center. Just a short walk in the freezing rain and pounding wind was enough to soak us to the bone.

We watched a presentation led by an older Inuit woman in traditional clothing—she was Hans’ wife. Their very cute granddaughter demonstrated songs and dances while the woman told stories in Inuit—which Hans translated into Danish, so the guide for the Russian excursion could translate into Russian. Dad and I were out of luck, but the Russians seemed to enjoy it.

It was still a good show, though. The little girl posed for pictures with the tourists afterwards.

I wonder where she is now. What she thinks of all that is happening in her country. What she remembers about dancing for tour groups and posing for pictures.

Our next stop was a small grey hut—finally, a gift shop. The owner of the gift shop was a woman from Iceland who was married to a Danish hunting guide, so she spent half the year in Greenland and half the year in Iceland.

Dad told her, “You should spend half the year in Hawaii!”

We picked up some keychains and postcards, but then I saw a glimmer in my dad’s eye—he’d seen something expensive. It was a grey winter jacket with a Kulusuk patch on the sleeve. My dad can’t resist a good patch.

“I would look so cool,” he said. “First person on our block to have a Kulusuk coat, that’s for sure!”

“This costs $1,800 in American money,” I said.

“But look at the patch.”

“Where would you wear this? You barely go outside in the winter.”

“I’ll wear it going back and forth to the mailbox!”

“You can’t pay eighteen hundred dollars for something you’ll wear for thirty seconds a day,” I said. “Mom will murder you.”

Dad grudgingly admitted defeat.

Next on the itinerary was a kayak demonstration—but the winds were 40 miles per hour, and the seas were too rough, so the demonstration was canceled. It was raining even harder now, so we were directed to a small church. We sat in a pew at the back and watched the Russians, huddled in their parkas, whip out open-face sandwiches and tiny bottles of vodka.

“Talk about being prepared for cold weather!” said Dad.

Captain Karl briefed us on our return to the airport. Next to the supermarket, there was a dock, with a metal ladder about ten feet long, that we would climb down to a flotilla of small boats that would take us to the airport in groups of three or four.

I am kicking myself eleven years later for not taking a picture of this ladder, but my dad and I have breathlessly described it so many times I can still see it perfectly.

This metal chain ladder was not connected to anything other than the very top of the dock. It wasn’t the kind of ladder that painters use—with a fixed structure that supports the rungs—but the kind of ladder you’d see on a treehouse, with metal chain loops between the rungs. So as you’re climbing down, you’re holding onto a slim metal chain that is moving with you—and the 40 mph winds—as opposed to steadying you as you descend.

The sea was so rough that if you lingered for longer than a few seconds on this ladder, you were going to get slammed with a wave of freezing water. You know, on top of the freezing rain that was dunking you from the sky.

So it goes without saying that everything in this scenario was soaked—the ladder, our shoes, and our hands. I hadn’t been able to feel my fingers and toes for about six hours at this point. There was no way I would be able to grasp and hold onto the ladder safely, and gripping with my mud-soaked, treadless sneakers that were made for power-walking around an air-conditioned mall? Not going to happen.

  We watched the first group descend the ladder, clinging on for dear life. Once they managed to throw themselves into the boat, it took off, spraying them with freezing water all the way back to the airport.

“Did you see the fear in that Chinese lady’s eyes?” said my dad later. “I think she wanted us to notify her next of kin. I was just imagining what would happen if my hernia burst.”

Oh yeah. That hernia.

Dad and I quickly assessed the situation, as another group threw themselves over the dock and into the boat.

The best case scenario would be to fall in the water and freeze to death in fifteen seconds.  Worst case scenario would be falling off the ladder, hitting the boat and breaking a limb or your back and then hitting the water and freezing to death in fifteen seconds.

And the last thing you would hear would be the laughter of the glaciers, mocking you for thinking you could conquer Greenland, which even the Vikings abandoned because it was too cold.

But the worst worst case scenario, for us, would be if Dad’s hernia burst (causing him to fall off the ladder, hit the boat, fall into the water and freeze to death in fifteen seconds).

“If my hernia bursts, they can’t rush me to Kulusuk General Hospital,” said Dad.

Kulusuk’s medical services, at least at that time, were provided by a single resident nurse. There were no highways to other towns—people traveled into the interior by snowmobile.

As Dad said later, “Maybe I could’ve been transported to another town by a Russian tourist, drinking vodka and driving a snowmobile for the first time. My only hope was they would rush me to the gift shop.”

I said, “We aren’t going on this ladder.”

We approached Captain Karl, who was really very patient with us considering the number of unprepared demanding Americans he must deal with on the regular, and he sent us over to a Danish guy, who took us to a garage near the grocery store, where he asked an Inuit guy with a pickup truck to take us to the airport.

Once again, we got in a stranger’s truck with no seatbelts—but we would’ve happily ridden in the truck’s bed clinging to the bumper just to avoid that ladder.

However, there were only two seats. So yours truly, an adult, had to sit on my dad’s lap for the entire ride. But I didn’t want to risk sitting on the hernia, so I sat kind of halfway on his knee and then held myself up as best I could by gripping the doorframe, with my head squashed against the window, so I wouldn’t bump my dad’s hernia.

The route back to the airport was just as wild as before, with icy hairpin turns and ditch-sized potholes, all of which our driver took with one hand on the wheel, because the other hand was holding his cell phone. He was talking to someone in Inuit the entire ride—probably telling them, “You won’t believe the idiots I have with me. Yes, they’re Americans.”

That long stretch of road along a sheer drop-off into the ocean was really exciting, and I only hit my head careening around the turns maybe six or seven times. I only lost a few piano lessons, nothing I’ll miss.

We made it to the airport, but the weather was getting worse. We met up with the rest of our group, who only knew us as the weird Americans who kept disappearing, and Captain Karl, who was worried that our plane wouldn’t be able to take off. There was another tour running that day, where after their time in Kulusuk, people were taking Russian helicopters to another town with a hotel.

Dad and I watched people board this Soviet-era helicopter that was struggling to stay upright in the freezing wind, and gulped. The years and the elements had not been kind to these helicopters.

“They look like someone sent them through a reverse car wash,” said Dad.

Years later, while watching Chernobyl, my dad recognized the helicopters that were flying in the clean-up crews.

“That’s the helicopter we saw in Greenland!” he said. “Am I glad we didn’t have to fly in one of those!”

Thankfully, our plane was able to take off. Our statuesque flight attendant knelt down to welcome us back. Captain Karl gave us lovely “Certificates of Achievement” with our names on them. He spelled my name as Elisabeth, which made me love it even more—I have it framed in a place of honor, next to a painting my dad made of the picture at the very top of this post.

As we sat down and buckled our seatbelts, Dad pulled a plastic bag out from under his windbreaker.

“You’ve had the muffin bag the entire time?”

“I shoved it under my shirt,” he said. “For warmth.”

On one of the hottest days this summer, locals in the tiny village of Kulusuk, Greenland, heard what sounded like an explosion. It turned out to be a soccer field’s worth of ice breaking off a glacier more than five miles away. Greenland lost 12.5 billion tons of ice to melting on August 2, the largest single-day loss in recorded history. NASA oceanographer Josh Willis: “Greenland has impacts all around the planet. There is enough ice in Greenland to raise the sea levels by 7.5 meters, that’s about 25 feet, that would be devastating to coastlines all around the planet. We are all connected by the same ocean.” —CNN

The climate crisis is causing unprecedented levels of stress and anxiety to people in Greenland who are struggling to reconcile the traumatic impact of global heating with their traditional way of life.The first ever national survey examining the human impact of the climate emergency shows that more than 90% of islanders interviewed fully accept that the climate crisis is happening, with a further 76% claiming to have personally experienced global heating in their daily lives, from coping with dangerous sea ice journeys to having sled dogs euthanized for economic reasons tied to shorter winters. — The Guardian

As a result of these climactic troubles, many Greenlanders are experiencing solostalgia, a term coined to describe the psychic pain of climate change, a feeling of missing home even without leaving, as home, the Earth, is changing. Courtney Howard, the board president of the Canadian Association of Physicians for the Environment, told the Guardian that Arctic people are now showing symptoms of anxiety, “ecological grief,” and even post-traumatic stress related to the effects of climate change. “The impact of climate change on mental health is a looming public health crisis,” she said. —Quartz

We knew eleven years ago that the climate was changing and that Greenland was melting. It’s 800,000 square miles and 80% is covered by an ice sheet that all of Greenlandic society and every city in the world that’s on a coastline depend on for survival, and it’s melting. My dad and I knew that before we went there, and we didn’t even know enough to bring decent shoes.

Dad just texted me, “I keep wondering what Kulusuk looks like now. This is pretty scary—has to be a wake up call.”

My dad is an eternal optimist, which allows him to do things like travel across the world with a hernia, but we’re long past a wake up call.

Dad and I Go to Greenland Huh. Greenland is in the news a lot lately, for reasons that would only seem normal in some horrifically overblown satire.

[bt2018bt2018]

Retail Insights February 15, 2018 http://ift.tt/2F0Gy05

Click on an image below to zoom in & open photo gallery >>

Overhead skeleton for store decoration

Overhead art animal skeleton

outside store name board explicitly communicate that it accepts AMEX

outdoor sale sign with an arrow

OFFERS AT A SINGLE GLANCE sign wanted on this brochure stand

NATIONWIDE NEWS agencies team up to provide parcel collection points to customers

Mirror next to mannequin in store

Mirror on stores pillars

Mirror integrate into shelf

Mirror integrate into store pillars

Mirror integrate into shelf makes it easy to see how headphone looks on me

Mirror at back of shelf edge for shoe display

Mini trees inside retail store

MIMCO selling points at a glance through store window

Mannequin with see-through dress

Mannequin prancing

Mannequin paired with flowers

Mannequin leaning forward

Mannequin at corner of store window

Mannequin and mirror

Lock to lock luggage handle in place

Levitating shoe

Koala and trees product visual merchandising

jump rope counts for you with LED lights

Jumbo elephant sale

iPhone lock screen update

Interesting Jacket

Interesting coasters

How to keep your headphones from taking up previous space

Heat tech extra warm leggings

Heart shaped packaging for glasses wants you to buy both boxes

Happy water bottle with cute toy

good things come to those who wait

Good pets deserve great rewards

Golden shoes sold at this mall

Golden reflective shelf background for clothing

Giant mirror in retail store

Giant mannequin squashing basketball

Giant baby wipes for portable shower

Gel soles leather shoes

GEL sole shoes

Fresh meat sold at this pet shop

Free glasses clean

DON'T FORGET - sign

Direction to recycle with arrow sign

Different zipper colours for this waist pouch

Dedicated pickup counter for people ordering juice through the app

David Jones environmentally friendly shopping bags

Cute baby feet images overhead shelves displaying clothing

Cosmetics beauty store visual merchandising

Convenience store fridge communicate selling point on its product with overhead space

Confident mannequin posing

Chandelier

Bistro lighting

Biggest savings of the season sign

Barbershop with terminator Statue

Ballerina shoes

Bad sweater day

Babies overhead photos at a glance in this mall

Australia's softest tissue

Arrow tips for sunglasses

Arrows and sunglasses

Arrow for mall directory

360 degrees video camera

adoption centre at this pet shop

adopt a hermit crab

Adequate sofa seatings in this mall

Visual Merchandising FOCUS Concept

Tax Time Madness

Stamps available for sale at this convenience store

Specialist Maths & English Tuition

Shirts

Overhead Shoe Products compartment

POST OFFICE Paper Bag as Advertising medium

Amelia's Wardrobe

24 hr Dry Cleaning Drop Off

Price Checker shows movie trailer

Sales pitch for Lotto wants u to dream

Shiny Bricks in this retail store

$15 off for every$75 spent promo offer limited by time

Bottle Cap Darts

Breville manage your food pressure, temperature and time

Colourful towels

Comfy Bed Position

Disadvantaged Indigenous Children

Happy Ben at Kit Kat Stand

Gold Embossed Book Cover

Get Fully Charged

Mannequin

Little Story Card next to Product

Invisible Thread

Nothing Escapes the Miele AirClean System

Nutri Bullet

Sunbeam Espresso Machine

TARGET Centre Safety Mirror installed overhead

The VS Style

Transparent Baby TuTu

Turn winter into a winner

Gel ink multicolour pen at office works.

Upside down Spider-Man in retail store ceiling frees up space

100 dollar note as a bookmark.

Why should Chadstone jb hi-fi stop selling discounted junk products? Mousepad doesn't work. Lost customer for a lifetime to recoup a little of capital. Win the battle. Lost the war

Black lipsticks for Caucasian female

Myer. Free cookie with dining in and take away coffees

Batman logo haircut at the back of kids head.

Crew cut at shaver shop saves me money

News agency offer gift wrapping service. Pushcarts too

Departmental store put charity coin box next to cashier

Glitter skin moisturiser

What if the face of watches is made from bulletproof glass as a selling point. Eliminate customer anxiety and fear

Stairs to buildings should have sign and arrow to direct people with babies in prams to nearest ramp access into building

Square board with Body Image and Hole for Head for retail shop Photo competition and to hide body of customer

Ladies tight mini skirt with pockets akin to pants

Backpack vacuum cleaner

Fun fact stories in Brochure next to products in store

Split payment at self-service cashier

Uniqlo staff wear Japanese clothing

Sack the boss' n year of the monkey' lottery ticket - signs

Street or mall overhead ceiling light with stencil project word on floor as well as lights

Put teddy bears on the walls of florist

Attractive women distributing flyer improve flyer penetration rates

Store greeter. Anti-theft bag checker and sample distributor roles in one person. Big W

Lacey back for dress

Beanie with quote terrible hair day

Luxury brand store entry hostess carry tablet to take down email address of customers waiting on queue to enter store

Inner zipped pocket for down jacket

Wireless bra by UNIQLO retail clothing store

Retail store offers discount signage shaped as outline of product

Melbourne Color Coded Post Box

Discount sign shaped as product that it is talking about

Immerse your senses in virtual reality while you wait .jpg_

in store plant

Inspirational quote in sportswear shop

Integrate giant ship with video game shelf

Integrate mall pillar with mirror for customers to make an informed decision

Integrate mirror into mall pillars

Jeans categories viewable at a single glance through overhead sign

Kettle top opens slowly to release steam and avoid splashing

Kid Mannequin

Lamp in a box

Lego pencil case

Leverage on most populous escalator point in mall to advertise promos and services

Lingerie mannequin wearing pearls

lingerie Mannequins posing wildly with a mirror as background

Lingerie model

Lingerie shop in Melbourne central mall

Make full use of store corner to display product

Mall directory

mall promo sign next to the elevator door

Mall welcomes Chinese customers by communicating in Mandarin

Mannequin hanging by a string

Mannequin in action

Mirror allows you to instantly compare your own shoes with product shoes

Marbled mall floor

Mannequin on a swing hanging from the ceiling

Mannequin laying hands on another mannequin shoulder

Mirror as background of product shelf

Mirror as background shelving for white lingerie

Mirror at corner of staircase

Mirror integrate into mall's pillar

Mirror integrate into pillar with compliments

Mirror integrate with Shoes on shelf

Modern coloured lipstick

Missing reason on Why would customers make the efforts to pick up brochure at UNIQLO from a distance away

Mirror integrate with Shoes on shelf

Mirror integrate into pillar with compliments

New and improved socks

MyVoice at BigW

Mysterious visual merchandising

New York giving tampons away for free

No commission on all foreign currency

Nothing over $20

Novelty blenders

Office set up in the middle of the Departmental store

Overhead hanging remote control vehicles

Overhead lamp with grass protruding

Overhead lighting

Overhead Retail Store Nameboard Integrate with Arrow

Overhead television deter theft

Overhead television introduce product

Pair chicken with soft drinks advertisement on drinks fridge

Pair internet steaming tv services to sell television products

Pet shop sign with arrow on back door

Photo of model in photo shoot using Cosmetics sell products

Photo stand next to product show model wearing jeans

Please queue here for service sign

Products on a box layered with paper hay

property agency let's you rent condo before you buy

Quality paper

Queue here for service sign

Quick and easy Spanish recipe book

Quote by kikki.K

Retail store with framed advertisement and arrow

Retail store pays tribute to the glorious dead

Selling points next to property advertisement

Sell medications by asking if customer have a symptom

seamless briefs for no visible lines

Scalp camera consultation

SALE gown on mannequin

Shoes levitating in this store

Shelf edge with Label for jeans product

shelf background with image of foods

Sexy naked legs sell stockings product

Sign that play with words sell products

Sign that compliments you sell products

Sign invites you in to store

Sign communicate upstairs product category at a single glance

Stacked washing machine to save space

Staircase tells you where is the elevator

Star next to brand name

stocktake sale sign

Storage space in built into beds

store greeter double as working staff by folding clothing at entrance

SUHDTV by Samsung

suit and tie

the suitcase is also a scooter

Suitcase

Suncubator

Sunset backdrop in visual merchandising

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Retail February 15, 2018 at 11:48AM