#I grabbed a few books from my shelf and figured I'd pick one from there but none of them seem appealing now

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Nothing is holding my attention, I don't feel super great, and I kinda wish my husband wasn't playing DnD rn cuz I want a hug...

[essentiallyinfinite]

Okay. I am feeling, and have felt for so many years, a kind of fixation on ... figuring out a way to live well.

I was compulsive about books and knowledge. I think to a fault; I collected and accumulated more books than I could realistically hope to read and integrate in a lifetime, thinking I would somehow synthesize a "grand theory" of sorts. Something inclusive of science and spirituality...

I'm going to take some influence from Jasun Horsley and go through my evolution of influences, since I don't see a way to dissociate my life from my philosophy.

Early on ... I think in my early adolescence -- it must have been after my older brother by seven years had left home to live and work in a Camphill Community in Ireland (connected with Rudolf Steiner's anthroposophy -- my parents and I went on a short vacation during March break to somewhere north in Ontario where there was still plenty enough snow to go snowshoeing and staid in a hotel. In that hotel, in the drawer of the sidetable next to the bed where ordinarily at that time one would find a copy of the bible I found "Conversations With God" by Neale Donald Walsh.

I hadn't thought too much about "God" before that, that I can remember. My parents hadn't taken us to church at all despite (or because of) my mom coming from a Catholic upbringing and my father's father being a minister (Presbyterian?). But something grabbed me and I devoured the book. I think it was the first time I was exposed to the idea of "God" as not a separate entity but as here and now present in our thoughts, feelings, ideas, circumstances and environment; that at some level we were all inherently divine by nature and that we were "God" experiencing Itself subjectively; a hidden Unity within an illusion of separateness. This struck me as such a beautiful, obvious truth.

My brother was influential, despite being physically absent during these seminal years as I approached adulthood. He had a spiritual inclination, and during this time in my teens I went through his bookshelf. Another book that I read and influenced me was "The Dragon Doesn't Live Here Anymore," by Alan Cohen. I don't remember much specifically about this book now, other than that it was a bit "New Age-y" and was one of these narratives I'd come to recognise about a "typical" middle-class white Westerner "discovering" Eastern mysticism and getting taken in by some kind of guru/spiritual teacher. Similar to another book from my brother's shelf, "Be Here Now" by Ram Dass/Richard Alpert.

Also during this period and thanks to my brother's small library I began to discover Jack Kerouac, and read through a number of his semi-autobiographical novels like "On the Road," "Dharma Bums" and "Desolation Angels". I think this was also when I started to see more of the "shadow side" of things -- it was confusing at first to learn that Kerouac, despite being creative, successful, and "spiritual" had nonetheless still ended up essentially committing slow suicide and dying young through alcoholism. Despite this, I still picked up a distorted romanticized view of this lifestyle -- that one could be a "spiritual" artist/creator and also a hedonistic asshole.

This was further compounded by my reading "Tropic of Cancer" by Henry Miller, who painted a picture of living in poverty, borrowing money to buy wine, writing and womanizing, which started to seem very cool to me -- I had little self-awareness and virtually no social skills. I had a few short-lived relationships that basically consisted of me fixating and obsessing with a girl and then (if and when they actually kind of reciprocated) they or I would distance ourselves or break things off.

I thrived briefly in a special program where 20 or so students got to work in a sort of outdoor education setting where we learned about deep ecology, Taoism, took turns cooking lunch and washing up, and had grade 4 and 5 students come for overnight field trips where we would put on activities and performances to teach about environmentalism stuff. Every semester two or three students were selected from applicants to continue as co-op helpers and intermediaries between the program instructors and the next semester of students. I wanted to do this and I believe was very close to being selected but was rejected because I'd struggled to hand in my final assignment on time. I didn't know that this was because of my ADHD neurotype. I thought I was just undisciplined and prone to procrastination. To this day this rejection haunts me and I feel like I lost part of myself in that moment. All of my close friends were selected into this role except me and I don't think I will ever forgive the teacher for his ignorance and lack of understanding. But he was basically a child himself, I think only in his late twenties, and at the time neurodivergency wasn't well-known or recognized like it is today. Still, the correct thing to do would have been to draw out my potential and help me improve rather than rejecting and shaming me.

Also during these years I had terrible self-esteem and would look at myself in the mirror and repeatedly punch myself in the face for being "ugly." Also, apparently in grade six I had started "cutting" myself or something but I don't remember doing that, and it's possible that the attention it got made me learn to be more discreet about my self-harming "meltdowns" -- they would always be in extreme states of emotional overwhelm and never deliberate. Always violent outbursts. Of course I felt immense shame and embarrassment about doing this sort of thing once I had calmed down.

....

[bearpillowmonster]

Super Castlevania IV Review

Forgive me if I compare this to Metroid.

Since I revisited Metroid and it becoming one of my favorite franchises, I figured I'd do the same with Castlevania. I think this is another one of those instances where you need to start with the right game, I guess mine just so happened to be Super Castlevania 4. Why so specific? Because I didn't want to go too early with the original 1-3 on NES and this was closer to a remake of the first one.

Now I've tried Castlevania 64 and it seemed different but just not my thing, everything placed felt deliberate. Then I tried Aria of Sorrow and I had no idea what I was doing, I still kind of don't but at least with this game, I don't really have to worry about taking the wrong path. Why? Because this game is split into stages.

I think this is a cool decision because it allows for a variety of different scenarios. Now this is a harder game so enemies can pop up out of nowhere. Imagine a rushing river that's slowly pushing you wherever it wants or maybe a cave where the stalagmite falls on you or a mansion with creaky stairs, a graveyard with hands that grab you so spiders can shoot their babies at you. That's just so cool. In this game, atmosphere is everything and it nails it pretty well. I never really felt like I was doing the same things, I felt like I was progressing to whatever was ahead except I had no idea what was ahead, there was no way to tell because a book could fly off the shelf and attack you for all I know, it challenged what I thought I knew. Normally I wouldn't like that but I found it a lot more digestible with this entry and would snicker at what I ended up finding. Now, I never could've played this on a console because I'd be all screwed up redoing stages with a set amount of lives, losing too much health and whatnot, still a baby on that front.

As far as gameplay, there isn't a separate button to aim diagonally, it's just built into the stick so that threw me off at first but you can control the whip pretty good. There really isn't an upgrade system which isn't necessarily a bad thing either, you can get the metal whip frequently from one of the candles which works a bit better but that's about it, nothing's permanent so it feels like you're actually scavenging for the treasure.

Items aren't carried per say, candles hold most of the items like an axe, a boomerang, a knife, health items and so on but those weapons can only be carried one at a time so be cautious of what you pick up. You can also pick up money which gives you a better score and sort of makes you feel like a treasure hunter in Drac's mansion. Yes, there's a score which is measured by your time, enemy kills and so on but it isn't indicative of an ending, in fact, there's only one with this game specifically.

A few things I didn't like are that you can't jump or crouch on stairs. Something I hated about the original Metroid as well is that the end level is a gauntlet, well same applies here. But I will say that I learned a ton of new tricks just from that level alone, I just wish it would've come sooner (it's not the game's fault, but it didn't exactly make it obvious). But yeah, really solid title, I look forward to branching out to other entries even if this is a little bit of a lone wolf in its category.

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[emeralddaydream]

𝙺𝚒𝚝 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚂𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍

Kit x Fem!Reader

A/N: So, this wasn't what I'd planned on posting next, but I've been going through some things, and my brain has just not been cooperating. Sigh. But, I've been in a very dad!character mood lately, so I thought I'd give y'all some more of my take on dad!Kit bc I love him💜 I hope you like it!!

Your daughter’s only seven months old when she gets ill for the first time.

Being that you and Kit are both first-time parents, the entire experience is beyond overwhelming.

You're awoken in the morning, not long after Kit leaves for work, to the sound of her cries. She doesn't stop for hours, eventually tiring herself out enough to fall asleep.

While she’s down, you decide to make a quick phone-call to Kit.

You don’t call him at work very often, but you're worried; you hate seeing your baby so upset.

“Hey, sugar.” Kit presses the phone into his shoulder so that he can wipe some grease on his pants, before taking the receiver in his hands again. “What’s up?”

“Kit, it’s Y/D/N.” You’re pacing back and forth in the kitchen, tugging at the phone cord anxiously. “I think something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Kit does his best to hide the alarm in his voice, but you're not fooled.

“She’s had a cough since this morning, wouldn't stop crying, I've never seen her like this... She’s finally asleep now, but I took her temperature before putting her down, and she’s definitely got a fever.” You’re trying hard to keep your tears at bay, but your bottom lip is quivering, panic beginning to set in. “What do I do?”

“Grab your jacket.” You hear Kit pull away from the phone for a moment, hear his muffled words as he speaks to someone. “Y/N? I’ll be there in ten minutes to pick you up. We’ll take her to the hospital.”

The baby wakes as soon as you pick her up from her crib, whimpering and whining the entire ride to the hospital.

Kit does his best to comfort her while also paying attention to the rode. He tells her over and over again that everything's going to be okay, occasionally reaching a hand out to stroke her pudgy little arms.

As soon as you arrive a the hospital, the baby's reaching for Kit, and he happily takes her in his arms as the three of you are led to a private room where you're told that a nurse will be with you shortly.

Kit leans back one of the chairs in the corner, the baby resting against his chest, looking up at her father with beautiful brown eyes that match his own.

While Kit has a hushed conversation with the baby, you move to a small shelf against the wall, grabbing a few of picture books before returning to your seat.

After the nurse arrives to take the baby's vitals, the two of you take turns reading to her while you await the doctor.

She really doesn't have any idea what either of you are saying, but is engaged all the same, simply enjoying the sounds of your voices, even letting out a few strained giggles of her own.

By the time Kit finishes the third book, her eyes are drooping, and she's nearly asleep again when the doctor knocks softly, before opening the door.

It doesn't take him long at all to figure out what the issue is; your baby has gotten her first cold.

You let out a relieved sigh at the diagnosis, knowing that this will at least be an easy fix, and that as long as you follow doctor's orders, your little one should be feeling better in no time.

When you arrive back home, the baby's more than ready to eat so you feed her and give her a quick bath before handing her off to Kit, who changes her into a cozy pair of pajamas.

You take the opportunity to take a quick shower of your own, and when you make your way back into your daughter's room, your heart nearly melts.

"Well, what do we have here?" you ask, stepping quietly over to the rocking chair where Kit sits, your daughter in his arms. She smiles sleepily as he hums soothing tunes in her ear.

"We're waitin' for you to come say goodnight, momma," he smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you lean down to grab onto her tiny hand.

"Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you," you whisper, reaching out to move to some hair that's fallen onto her forehead, quickly noticing the change in her temperature. "Her fever's gone down." You sigh in relief as Kit yawns, running a hand gently along her back as her eyelids get heavier. "Maybe she'll feel better in the morning."

"I hope so. I hated seeing her so upset today." He recalls how upset she'd been when he'd picked the two of you up this afternoon, a frown on his face.

"You did such a good job taking care of her, though You always do." You smile at the sound of your daughter's gentle snores, her little face burrowing into Kit's neck. "You really are the best dad, you know that?"

"And you're the best mom," he replies, pressing a loving kiss to your lips before carefully lifting himself from the chair so that he lay the baby down. As the two of you stand there, watching the little angel, Kit's hand pressed against yours on the railing of her crib, you're overcome with a sense of adoration for the both of them; you're thankful to whatever or whoever decided to bless you with the perfect little family.

taglist: @americxn, @kitwalker64, @elaineygrace, @milly-louise, @liandav, @therenlover, @tatestripedsweater, @kitwalker02, @undeadcortez, @sallyscigarettes, @xmaximoffic, @samsassinparvismagna, @billyhxrgrove, @mossybank, @slightlyvicked, @ronswansonsburntoffeyebrows, @spider-starry, @divinerulerluvr, @ikkleroniekins, @auricgold, @sanni333 (please fill out this form if you'd like to be added/removed here)

[harknesswife]

It was you all along (Agatha Harkness x Female Reader)

Summary: This is a sweet self-insert love story between Agatha and a Westview citizen. Everything that happens follows the original events of “Wandavision” and MCU, like a parallel.

Chapter: 10/10

Word count: 1.663K

The bus stopped in front of the “Welcome to Westview” sign. We all got off as FBI and SWORD agents kept blabbering about going back to our real lives. I let my mind wander for a while.

It had been a week since I ran off the hex, leaving Agatha behind. They got all of us into this facility that, to me, it kinda looked like a prison. “We just need to be sure that the city is safe to come back to”, they said. My room had no windows, but I knew that this wouldn’t stop her. I’d sleep every night hoping that she’d just burst her way in and take me out of there. She told me to wait, and I did.

Agent James clapped his hands and brought me back from my daydream.

"Ok, welcome back, everyone. Everything is perfectly fine. Westview is secure, Wanda is gone. And that’s all you need to know."

Some people clapped. They wouldn’t tell us anything about what happened after we got out, and that was driving me insane.

We stepped inside Westview as if we’re entering a pool, slowly and carefully. The city was way different from the colorful lie we were living. Everything was pretty gray and dark. I passed by my place, the door was still open just how I'd left it. But I didn’t want to get in, not yet. I wanted to preserve a little more of that memory of how it used to be. Lots of families were getting inside their own houses, I could see people packing stuff. I kept walking, getting my eyes used to this new reality when I saw it.

Her house. What used to be her house, the place where she took me on that Halloween night. Everything was destroyed. I crossed my arms on my chest, trying my best not to cry. Sword did it, I was sure, to make Westview “safe again”. I peeked around, trying to find any clue when I glanced at her bicycle just tossed aside. I ran for it and when I was about to lift it…

"Oh, hey!"

It was Fietro. I took several steps back.

"You can have it", he said, lifting it and handing it to me. "I don’t mind".

I kept staring at him, trying to read his eyes. He smiled at me.

"I’m sorry. Do we know each other? My head is still kinda messy from all the, you know…"

"No need to be sorry", I said, relieved that he didn't remember me. Especially naked me. "Nice to meet you. Are you leaving?"

I pointed at the two big bags behind him.

"Definitely. I’m not taking my chances with her again."

"Wanda? I thought she was gone", I asked, slightly more interested.

He sighed.

"I shouldn’t be talking about this. I’m sorry", he tried to leave, but I held him.

"Do you know what happened? After we all left?", I was holding his arm with only one hand. He wasn’t trying to get away, but I refused to let go.

"I was here", he whispered. "But I can’t talk about it. They made me promise."

"Please!", I asked. "I’m so confused right now. I need closure. I think knowing would help me to just… move on.

I meant it and he knew that. He above all people knew how it was to be unable to control his own mind. So he told me all about the two identical men flying and fighting against each other. He told me about that brave woman that just threw herself in front of Wanda’s kids to protect them, even when she didn’t know that her body was bulletproof. How the sword army was defeated by these same two young boys. And, finally, how both witches kept throwing blasts at each other, a huge battle in a red sky.

"And then..." he said, pointing at the exact place where it happened. "They got back. But Wanda was… different. She looked like a witch, cape, and everything. And the other one - I could see some anger in his voice - was just on the floor, defeated."

I took a deep breath.

"Wanda left after a while. The agents found me and it was their idea to destroy the place. I used to live here, you know. That’s why Agatha picked me".

It was really weird listening to someone else saying her name.

"But if Wanda’s gone… What did you say about taking chances?"

"Well. I heard something that I never told the agents...", he was whispering again. "Wanda changed Agatha’s witch clothes into casual ones. She told her that she knew where to find her. I think Wanda did to her what she did to all of us, trapping her inside her mind. And that makes me think that..."

"She’s still here."

It wasn’t a question. She was there, in Westview. That’s why she didn’t come for me. Now it was my time to find her. I smiled at him, hopping on the bike.

"Thank you, Fietro!!"

"Wait, what did you just call me?"

But I was already pedaling away at full speed. Looking right and left, trying to figure out where Wanda would place Agatha. Plain sight, so no one would suspect? Or maybe a little bit away from the neighborhood, just to be safe? I felt a few drops of rain falling into my head, wet hair getting into my eyes. There were a few cars on the street and It was hard to keep track of all of them. The orange light of a headlight blinded me for just a second, and it was all it took for me to fall. I tried to get up, feeling dizzy.

!Hun! Are you okay?"

I wasn’t ready. But she was right there, in the rain, kneeling in front of me. I had no idea how.

"Agatha", I said, staring at her. Somehow, I thought she would simply look at me and remember everything.

"It’s Agnes! A common mistake, tho", she smiled, her hair also getting wet. "Oh, let’s get inside! Let me help you with that", she said while grabbing the bicycle. I got up slowly.

If I had looked back, I’d see how she stopped, confused for just a split second, after touching the handlebar.

The inside of her house was cozy and colorful, like a piece of the “fake Westview”. It felt like home.

"I’m gonna get you something warm. Just a sec, honey."

She left me in the living room, my heart beating like crazy. “Calm down”, I said to myself. I looked around, trying to find anything that would help me bring her back. There was a shelf with some books, but none of them were glowing. Mundane. I got closer to read some of the titles when something else got my attention.

A few drawings were on the table right next to the shelf, some of them unfinished. A faceless girl with wings. The back of two women with bubbles floating around them. Pieces of our memories. They were still there, in some corner of her mind.

"Here you go", she said, handing me a cup of tea. Our fingers touched for a second, and she kept staring at me as her smile faded away.

She let go of the cup and touched my face, just like she used to do. I closed my eyes, waiting for her next reaction. Something was happening and I knew it.

"Go. Now."

It was her voice. But it didn’t sound like her.

The rain was still pouring outside. She kept telling me to leave, her eyes locked on me, like a trance. I refused. One of her hands was now glowing with a red fog.

Wanda.

"Agatha, please. Please. You need to remember. Please!", I kept saying it while she slowly lifted her hand.

I had no idea how, but Wanda was controlling her. Talking wouldn’t help. I took a step in her direction, then another one. She lifted the other hand, a threat that I ignored. Agatha did some sort of magical movement and everything flew into the walls. Everything but me. She wasn’t expecting that. I took another step, getting closer.

"You protected me long enough", I said, hoping that, somehow, Agatha would listen. "But I need you to come back."

I grabbed one of her wrists, trying to ignore the massive red energy that she was holding on her other hand. I could feel the warmth and the light getting closer to my face, I knew that it was my last try. I took off the ring that she gave me and placed it on her finger, screaming by how much strength it took me to do it. We both fell on the ground immediately.

I crawled over to her. She was trying to get up.

"Agatha?", I said with my voice breaking.

She looked up.

Agatha held me tight, touching my face to make sure that I was okay. I couldn’t stop the silent tears from falling. She kissed me several times, on my lips, my forehead, and my cheeks.

"I’ve missed you..." she whispered, fixing a lock of hair behind my ear. "We gotta get out of here. Wanda knows about you."

"I had to", I said, holding her hand.

"I know", she nodded, taking off the ring. The stone was black now. "You won’t need this anymore. I’ll be your shield."

We both got up, ready to leave, when the same orange headlight blinded me again, right inside of her living room. Only it wasn’t a headlight, as I realized too late. Agatha put me behind her, staring at that weird thing.

It was like a mirror, but instead of our reflection, we saw a man. He was wearing a cape and a necklace with a glowing green stone.

"My name is Doctor Strange", he said, in a calm voice. "And I need you to come with me."

[thebluenebula]

Repair

~600 words

Major Characters: Ashleigh Wayne, Harper Row

Minor Characters: Dick Grayson

Furniture finished, and finally unpacking, Ash asks Dick for help. While unpacking, he finds an object of sentimental value to Ash, but it's long been broken. If only she knew someone who specializes in tinkering.

Now that her furniture had arrived, and was built, Ash finally decided it was time to unpack. She sat on the ground by her bookshelf, placing books in an order that only made sense to her. Dick had offered to help her unpack, so she had him unpacking her video games, sorting them by console.

He placed what felt like the dozenth Call of Duty game onto the shelf. "You really like shooters, don't you?"

"Yeah, Sean got me into them, we used to go over to each others house, and play split screen for hours, it was so much fun."

Dick smiled at how happy Ash sounded. He tossed aside the empty cardboard box, and grabbed a nearby one labelled Xbox. He opened it, and to his surprise, it wasn't full of games but an old 360 console.

He picked it up out of the box, and examined the stickers on it, there were all kinds of them, video game characters, hearts, even a pair of name tags, one had Sean written on it, and the other was scribbled over, with Ashleigh written above the scribbles. "This is cute."

Ash glanced up from her box. "Yeah, but it doesn't work any more."

"So it's just around for sentimental value."

"I meant to get it fixed at some point, but the longer I left it, the more it got put on the back burner."

"You could give it Harper, if it can be fixed, she'll fix it."

"No, that's okay, I don't won't to bother her."

"No bother, I swear, Harper loves fixing things, plus it'll give you something to talk about."

"I'll think about it."

- - - - - 

The next day, Ash found herself gently knocking on Harper's open door. "Hello?"

Harper looked up from her desk. "Hey Ash, what's up?"

"Hey, umm... I have a thing, and old xbox, and I was wondering, if you've got a couple minutes one of the days, if maybe you could try to fix it? Dick said I should ask you."

"I'm the girl to come to if you have any things broken, my expertise is gadgets, but I'll take a go at anything," she explained as she stood up. "I've got no plans for today, how about I take a look at it now, if that suits you?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

The two headed to Ash's room. There were still a couple boxes scattered about, but most of her stuff had been put away.

Harper made her way over to the desk, which was a mess, papers, and trinkets were scattered across it, but amongst the mess was the Xbox. "You know, these things aren't that expensive. Plenty of second hand ones for sale."

Ash stood by her. "Yeah I know, it's more sentimental value them anything else."

"I figured. Do you know what's wrong with it?"

"No idea, it just stopped working one day, but before that the disc tray was stuck so that's also not working."

"If you let me borrow it, I can take it apart, see what needs to be done, and bring it back in a couple days, good as new."

"Yeah, sure, but it's alright if you can't fix it."

She scoffed as she picked it up. "Hell will freeze over, before I can't fix something."

Ash smiled at her. "Want do you want for it, I'd offer to pay you, but that seems kinda pointless."

"We'll just call your first a freebie."

- - - - -

A few days later, Harper knocked on Ash's door, Xbox in hand. She set it up, and two watched as the Xbox logo flashed up on screen. Harper grabbed a game case off the shelf, Halo. "Now, what do you say to a little one on one?"

Ash smirked. "You're on."

This is another story that's been sitting around almost finished for ages, I'm realising I have a lot of those, and I finally got the... inspiration? Sure, inspiration. I finally got the inspiration to finish, and I'm quite happy with it. Anyway, I hope ye enjoyed - Blue >^u^<

[timjohn5]

Freezing Moon - cap 3  Finally Finland FLASHBACK DEAD ON The day after my dream with Øystein I got up early from bed, I had my breakfast and I put on a simple clothes to stay in the same house. I figured I'd fix my bookcase. I walk into the living room and downstairs in front of the bookcase and there I stare at it for minutes before finally sitting on the floor and picking up a book that Øystein had given me days before that happened. The clock above my head was ticking, ticking and it kind of irritated me more than I'd ignore. I take some money bills from my pocket, from my sweatpants, and put them into the book and then return it to its place on the shelf. I'm taken from my daydreams when I see an envelope being placed under the door. I hurry up and pick up the envelope I had known so well these past few months. I open the envelope that in its verse contained my name, my address and a postage stamp from Norway. When I open the letter and smooth the white sheet I see written: "In 1990 a captain is brutally abandoned on an island. He stayed there for awful 3 years. He would rip his deer's neck and drink his blood thirsty until there was nothing more vital in the animal. The captain after these years was saved by chance by fishermen who went to the island behind treasures. Some are lucky. When brought back to his hometown, he was arrested and without conditions of freedom. " That was all there was in the note. I automatically close the letter and place it with envelope inside my bedside table along with the more than 200 letters with these messages. FLASHBACK DEAD OFF Euronymous packed his suitcase while I was lying on his sofa studying for an important test. He throws himself at my side putting the suitcase on the floor and hugs me as he can because of my position. He was properly changed and ready to leave the house, but before he wanted to say goodbye to me. "I'll miss you by the time I'm out." - He says holding me tight. "It's just one night and you'll be back soon." I answer without looking at him. "What will you do until I get back?" "I do not know, maybe I'll be right here." Maybe I'll go for a walk in the woods, see the moon. I like the moon you know it. Or I can do a review of my stories. - I can quit if you want. I can say that I am terribly ill and could not travel. Øystein says giving a kiss to my back. - For Euronymous drama is just one night. Just go before I kick you out! - I'll call you tonight. - OK Alright. - I answer and he makes a warm affection in my ear before getting up and picking up his suitcase. "Have a lot of fun over there." - It's a meeting about things found at sea ... I'm anxious. ... The morning after your trip I go to the library early to find out what is so interesting about the excavations in Finland. I was distracted reading a book about the country that did not notice the arrival of a boy right in front of me who sat down putting his backpack on his side and staring at me. - Finland? - the kid asks smiling at me as I notice the book I was holding. "Yes Finland," I say, smiling, and he seems to know the country. - That's awesome. "Then he gets up and leaves without another word. I thought it strange, but I do not say anything. A day later in Øystein's apartment, he had returned and I was now in his shower while he packed his bags for the trip to Finland. I lathered as he paced back and forth taking things to pack. "I brought things for the trip to Finland. Repellent against the insects that have too much there ... cold clothes because it's very cold there like here. Some food because I do not know what's in the restaurants there. "Euronymous walks into the bathroom and sneezes at the stinking repellent on me and walks back into the living room. - And your meeting like it was love. I say taking the foam out of my eyes. "It was wonderful and everyone was thrilled with me there. He said happy. - Look, look at these things and see if you like something you have here. We can venture out there and do wonders in those two weeks. Do you have hiking boots on the mountain? Øystein looked like a grown child running around with things in his hands. I finish my bath and dry myself by wrapping the towel around my waist and moving to the living room. He was wearing a long black fur coat in his hands. Hiking boots on the mountain? I say and he smoothes his coat. "This is important for us to walk through. It is full of mountains and does not walk to dead tennis. Wear this, my love! I put on the jacket and it was really very warm and soft. He finishes helping me with his coat and looks at me satisfied. As I turn to look in the mirror Øystein grabs me from behind smiling at my ear causing me to shiver with pleasure. - That's for when you're wet. - He says by running his tongue over the earlobe. "He would thank me, I swear." Did you bring dollars and Norwegian money with you? "Yes, everything is stored in my bag." I say kissing his mouth. My tongue asking for passage he granted very willingly. "Did you work hard while I was gone?" - Euronymous asks as he returns to his duties and I use to dry my wet hair. - Yes a little, not much ... I met someone very enthusiastic about Finland, but he disappeared. - Ah !? It is and who would it be? Øystein asks, and then I sense a moment of risk. His, jealous knocked on the door and he could barely disguise. - Someone in the second year. I say, leaning on the kitchen table after I finish drying my hair with the towel. Lauri approached me in the library. That does not bother you, does it? - No way. - He speaks the most I see that bothered him. - It matters ... - Toothpaste, brushes, socks ... -Ah! Opportunity appeared then ... I think we should be honest and sincere with each other. "I'm closer to him than he's bent, still packing the suitcase." I try to kiss his neck and then I'm hit with a punch that hits my mouth. Tombo to the side the sooner I recover, placing the hand on the face with the impact. Øystein might be soft, but he was too strong for his size. I go to him and we fall to the ground rolling on all sides. Soon he can hold me by holding my neck. Euronymous rolls around reversing our positions and realizes the mistake he made. He comes off me, rolling to the side and lying on the cold floor of the house. We spent a few minutes recovering our breath ... "Should I have left you uncertain?" Øystein is breathing deeply, and even as he lies down, he looks at me from the corner of his eye. "I do not think I should have told you my feelings." Sorry he sits down beside me putting his hands on his face and I realize that I had provoked him and resulted in that punch. I try to fondle her on the back, but he pulls my hands away and then gets up from the floor. A day later and I do my last tests in the college, leaving that day of the aggression aside. I struggled to continue to love Øystein Aarseth, but the things between us were cooling down gradually ... What I most wanted to do was to go to Finland with Øystein. I could not, hurt him. ... Finally the big day arrived and after a few hours by plane, we arrived in Finland. We got off the plane and soon a car was waiting for us with a super redhead woman driving and talking some instructions to us. - 2000 km of pure ice on all sides ... Water in the rooms of the ship. The only entrance and exit is by air or sea. This road starts from this side and ends where I'm going to leave them to catch the ship. - The woman said without stopping looking at us in the rearview mirror of the car. "Look how magnificent, a road that leads nowhere, great, Øystein! Euronymous does not answer me I turn to the other side watching the mountains in front of us in the distance covered with ice and the moon wanting to appear in the middle of the mountains. When we get to the hotel the car is parked and we get off getting our bags and entering the luxurious five star hotel. - Good morning gentlemen. - Says the guy who carries the bags displaying that smile that to me was more false than it appeared. - Welcome to Sweet Dreems! - Hello, gentlemen, I hope you enjoy your stay in our hotel. Can I see your reservation? The receptionist says. "Ah yes, I have reservations in the name of Øystein Aarseth. - Euronymous says handing in his hotel card and his credit card. I watched as the attendant looked at the computer monitor. The hotel was beautiful and seemed to be the most luxurious in the area. The walls were white, hospital-colored, with turquoise details and a few other decorations like vases and paintings on the central wall of the hall. I leave my reveries after Øystein registers and his reservation is accepted. We went to the room and soon the baggage handler came behind us. We entered the most beautiful and expensive room I have ever had the pleasure to put my eyes on. As at the entrance the walls were white with turquoise accents and an E-N-O-R-M-E double bed in the center of the room, next to a minifrigobar. I make a point of opening and there I find two bottles of rosé wine Wongraven Senza compromesso. After opening a bottle of those I picked up a cup that was above my head in a type of cup holder. I fill two cups delivering one, to Øystein after he finishes taking off his black fur coat as well. I hold the cup to him who grabs it and gives it a generous sip. I get excited and take a long drink too, savoring that delicious wine. - Here's a nice view. - I say excited for Øystein. - Yes, you do. There was a change in plans. Øystein says, picking up his small personal hygiene bag and taking it to the bathroom. I sit on the bed and pull out my suitcase, too. - How do you change the plans? Why this now. "I'm just packing my things in the hotel wardrobes. - A speaker decided not to appear and this will make things a bit difficult. - He gave up what? - Of the whole trip, he just had not seen. Øystein says, returning to his room. - And the next cruise is tomorrow so I'll have to repay it. "How many days had she been gone?" I ask him already irritated. I think about five days. Øystein speaks softly. He did not want me to get angry, but it was too late. - Fuck who gave five fucking days? Why did not you tell me this before? I ask, picking up the bottle and drinking almost the whole of it in one swallow. "I'm sorry I only knew it now. I got a message and I can not say no. You are an important customer. They were desperate, I could not say do not forgive me. "I can not believe this, Øystein. You bring me here and I come from all the goodwill of the world and it was to spend these weeks together and now you do FUCK. "I'm already out of bed, getting out of bed." "You can not leave me here alone in this end of the world that I do not even know. I already know! I'm going with you on this cruise. - Can not. It has no place because it is already complete. You can have fun if you stay here. Go take a walk, look at the shops in this town and I'll be back soon. Euronymous approaches me and gives me a kiss on the mouth. I try to push him away sooner to the sweet taste of the wine that is on his lips. After the moment of anger passed, I stared at Øystein and without blinking, he ran his hand over my ass and said I was drooling. He told me to turn around, and I saw him lying on the bed, naked and with his cock as hard as an iron rod. I was excited and shaken. - Come here! - He said. - Not! I said yes. Ah! Yeah, are you going to make it sweet now? I know you do. Let's enjoy it while I'm here and after I come back yes we'll enjoy the city together my love. Come on, give a suck here! - He said smiling with ease and debauchery. Trembling, red with rage, and dying with excitement, I still tried to resist saying that it was wrong for him to lie to me. Øystein stood up, took my hand, without my denying it, and set it firmly on his huge limb. I tried to pull it off, however, and he held it tightly over his hard throbbing cock. Then he let go, and I kept holding on and massaging slowly. He told me to kneel down and put his cock in my mouth. I sucked with a huge hunger, swallowing everything, despite the size and thickness I always took care of the message and he enjoyed happy. He told me to lie face down on the two pillows that were luxuriously placed on the bed so that my butt would be in position for him to penetrate me. Then he opened the drawer of the bedside table, took out a lube, had me put it on his cock, passed my entrance, and walked in very slowly. We took a lot of time in that mete, it gets hot, even because I cried, moaned and screamed horny. Minutes after he started penetrating, I already had spasms through my body. For a full time sex of variations of positions and places without leaving the suite. It was a wonderful and unforgettable evening. Even in bed, in the whirlpool, in the carpet of the small room and in the shower. In the end, it was past 11 pm. I confess that the excitement I felt was unimaginable. I entered so hard in an orgasm that I enjoyed without touching my limb. Øystein gave me a pleasure that no other woman could give me. And while I enjoyed, moaned, and shouted calling for him with every thrust, he thrust harder and moaned with pleasure as well. After minutes he enjoys in my interior and enjoy dirtying the bed of red sheet. We ended up sleeping in a hug. The next morning I found myself standing in front of the wharf where the ship of the Øystein cruise ship would leave. I was leaning against a railing when he appeared smiling and leaning there beside me. "How do you feel today, my love?" He asks, smiling at me. "Well, I'm fine, even though I'm still mad at you, but I'm fine. I say kissing his nose. "Here, take this while I'm gone. It had served you more now than it did me. - Euronymous extends his black leather jacket. This jacket was the one he never took from his body. It looked like he had been born stuck in it. Finally he would give that jacket to me. I take it from his hands and he gives me one more passionate kiss before turning his back and heading towards the ship and hop on board.