#historic punch bowl

[sapores]

My Own Ferdinand-and-Isabella Punch Bowl

Next weekend is the Eurovision final, and we have friends coming over to watch with us. I spotted a drinking game official enough to have its own domain and twitter account (ie, not very official, but certainly interwebs savvy) - and that they recommended their rum punch.

...but I didn't much like their punch recipe.

So I looked around for alternatives, and ran into Ferdinand and Isabella's Punch. This looked a lot better to me, but still I wouldn't want to make it without a few tweaks here and there.

So I tweaked. And for some ingredients that I didn't have at home, I replaced, or I went with DIY.

I plan to go back and edit this post as I settle on some of the amounts, and possibly add more spices than currently planned to the falernum.

Velvet Falernum Batavian Falernum

Since I didn't have any falernum at home, and want to largely avoid purchasing extra booze at this point, I decided to make my own falernum.

And since many historic punches used Batavian Arrak, and while I don't have any white rum at home, I do have Arrak, I decided to build my falernum on that instead.

So, here comes the Batavian Falernum. Based largely on the DIY recipe from Serious Eats.

Ingredients:

1/3 cup raw almonds

30 cloves

2 sticks of cinnamon (added by me)

30 allspice berries (added by me)

1 inch ginger (added by me)

1 cup Batavian Arrack (changed by me)

8 limes

520 g Demerara sugar [actually used: palm sugar + white sugar] (changed by me)

130 g (~1/2 cup) water

Day 1:

Coarsely chop and toast the almonds in a dry (non-stick) pan over medium-high heat until fragrant but before they burn (approx. 5 minutes).

Place almonds, cinnamon and cloves in a tight-sealing jar, cover with arrack. Steep for 24h.

Day 2:

Add allspice berries. Steep for 24h.

Day 3:

Finely zest 8 limes, with as little pith as possible. Put limes in ziploc bag in fridge to juice them later for the syrup and even later for the punch.

Thinly slice ginger.

Add zest and ginger slices to infusion. Steep for 24h.

Day 4:

Juice 4 limes (from the fridge stash), strain into pot. I got 130 g juice from this. Add water (equal amount, so 130g) and sugar (quadruple that, so 520g, to make it 2:1 sugar to liquid by weight), and cook a 66 brix (rich) sugar syrup, until sugar is fully dissolved.

Let it cool, then strain infusion and combine infused arrak and syrup in 1:2 proportions by weight.

Shake/stir until fully combined, strain through coffee filter, and let it rest for 12h.

Ferdinand and Isabella's Batavian Punch

Ingredients

1 lemon

2/3 cups sugar

2-3 tbsp Imperial Earl Grey

1/2 bottle (375ml) Ron Zacapa 23

1/2 bottle (375ml) aged Malmsey Madeira (changed by me)

1/2 cup lemon juice (squeezed from reserved fruit)

1/2 cup lime juice (squeezed from reserved fruit)

1 tsp Angostura Bitters

1/2 cup Batavian Falernum (see above)

Extra additions chosen day of:

Not enough Madeira: swapped half for Lillet Blanc

1 tbsp rich gomme syrup

1/4 tsp 4:1 saline

1/2 tsp Fee Brothers Black Walnut Bitters

1/2 tsp Fee Brothers Molasses Bitters

1/2 tsp Angostura Orange Bitters

Day 1:

Peel or zest the lemon, avoid the pith. Combine with sugar, muddle slightly and let it rest to produce oleo saccharum. Put the zested lemon in the fridge in a plastic bag to squeeze later.

Fill baking tray or bundt pan partway with water, put in freezer to produce ice block for the punch bowl.

Day 2:

Steep 1.5 cups of boiling hot water with the tea leaves for 3 minutes. Strain and set aside to cool.

Squeeze lemon and lime from the fridge and measure out the required amounts. (if not enough, fill it up with the Meyer Lemon super juice in my fridge)

Combine rum, madeira, lemon juice, lime juice, and the oleo saccharum. Stir to combine, and then strain to remove lemon zest from the mix. Pour into punch bowl.

Add tea to punch bowl.

Add ice block to punch bowl.

Garnish with lemon and lime wheels studded with cloves.

Timing for this time around:

May 7: Day 1 of Falernum

May 8: Day 2 of Falernum

May 9: Day 3 of Falernum

May 10: Day 4 of Falernum

May 12: Day 1 of Punch.

May 13: Day of Eurovision show. Day 2 of Punch.

[saltpepperbeard]

no because i'm over here trying to maintain a steady course and trying to not jump to conclusions and trying not to panic over out of context articles/questions/pieces of texts where i can't properly read the tone

and then rhys rolls up with-

[ace-marvel]

Ananchronism

Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Synopsis: The world has evolved beyond needing designations and sub-genders, alphas no longer seek out omegas, scents are a thing of the pass while heats and ruts are a rarity. You're an omega who relies on scents and still gets heat, an abnormality in this modern world. Only you find solace in a man lost to time.

Word Count: 9k

Based of a prompt/idea by @black-cat-2

(A/N: This is set in a time where everything goes back to complete normal after they defeat Thanos, Nat comes back and Steve doesn't leave. I will also warn that Bucky has some old time views on relationships, we are talking 40's stereotype stuff after all.)

Ananchronism: used to describe a historical inaccuracy where something from one time period is placed in another.

You had never been normal. 

In this day and age, sub-genders were nothing more than an additional label that went on your driver's license or something to be noted by an employer. You had presented as an omega when you’d hit puberty, like all the other people your age. It was a blood test done by the doctors to check, each sub-gender produced a certain enzyme that was checked when a woman got their first period and or a man started to grow hair on his chest. 

Your results had been odd, your early teenaged years spent in and out of doctor’s offices as they poked and prodded with needles and endless tests to find out why your levels had been so strange. It was something more commonly seen in the early 1900s when sub-genders had been such a big deal. 

“She’s a genetic anomaly,” A doctor had finally chalked it up, after looking at your records when you were fifteen. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your mother was an alpha, which meant that she took charge, a stubborn and proud lady in her own right. 

“Look, it’s a rare thing we’re seeing in very cases,” The old doctor huffed out. “Her sub-gender appears to not be suppressed, like evolution skipped her for whatever reason it decided to.” 

That was the end of the poking and prodding. 

You just weren’t normal. 

A genetic anomaly. 

Adjusting was horrid for your family, from the need to steal all the soft blankets, much to your mother’s dismay or your father’s disappointment, when you needed to skip school again because you had fevers and cramps from an ancient thing called a heat. After a year of missing almost two months of school, the doctor had put you on suppressants. 

Things still didn’t get better from there. 

Society was rough. 

Equality meant you had to work, despite everything in your brain and body screaming at you not to. You shouldn’t be standing on your feet for hours on end at the coffee shop you worked part-time at as a teenager, you shouldn’t have to get up at ungodly hours to study for tests and sit in a room full of people that seemed like dead bodies. 

You were sensitive, soft, and not made for this time. 

Becoming an adult was hard; moving out of home had you in tears, and finally diagnosed with depression. But you had to trudge on in this harsh world, alone. 

The only saving grace had been a woman who owned a bakery down the street, who had hired you after you’d come in one day craving something sweet before your heat decided to strike. 

It turned out that Elise was like you, a genetic anomaly. She wasn’t an olden day omega like you were, but she had heightened senses and strangely strong despite her small stature. You’d seen her lift three massive bags of flour like she’d been carrying a little pillow. 

“You look exhausted hun, have a seat for a little bit,” Elise had called from where she was punching a bowl of dough, flour smeared on her face as she smiled. 

“That would make me lazy..,” You mumbled under your breath, despite your whole body screaming at you to stop, “I’ll go clean a little..,” 

Elise didn’t argue, you always pushed your own limits even if your whole body screamed at you day in and day out. Grabbing the cloth and spray, you made your way over to the tables and began to wipe them down as the shop door opened. 

Usually the smell of cupcakes, baked bread and sweet treats covered up the many unpleasant smells of the people around you, but something stuck out today. It was a musky scent, mixed with pine and the odd edge of something cold, like ice. You could always tell what someone’s sub-gender was based on smell alone, you avoided alphas at all costs because that was what felt right to you. 

But this scent was so strong it made your stomach drop, hands suddenly holding onto the table as you took in the smell. It smelt right, so delicious and soothing that it called to something deep in your chest and awakened your every instinct. You wanted to be surrounded by it, pulled into its embrace and just left to soak in who ever the hell this person was 

You finally managed to turn around on wobbly legs, your throat dry as you looked at the people who had walked in. Steve and Sam were regulars; hell, the whole Avengers and their superhero companions were. You were close to the tower after all, when they needed to stay in the city, they always dropped by the bakery to stock up on the baked goods. Elise had tried to push you towards Steve at one time, but you’d avoided the super soldier and he was just as awkward about your boss and best friend’s strange match making habits. 

But there was a third person with them today, he was bigger than Steve but held an aura that was distinctly alpha about him. The way your hair stood on end made you just know, he was an alpha in every sense of the word. 

He had the most stunning blue eyes, dark locks pulled under a cap and a red henley covering most of his body. His beard was short but neat, no doubt hiding a strong jaw line. But the thing that stood out was the black and gold metal arm on his left side, as he kept his arms holded over his chest. 

And he was staring straight at you, eyes blown wide and nostrils flaring slightly. 

“Hun, you okay?” Elise spoke as she turned around the counter, walking to your side, “You’re a bit flushed,” 

Elise’s hand touched your forehead and the coldness made you whimper, the noise coming out strangled before she flinched backwards and frowned. There was a slight scuffle from the other side of the room, only your ears were ringing and everything was becoming fuzzy. 

“You’re burning up,” Elise tutted, “I’ll call a cab, you get yourself home,” 

– 

Bucky found dating hard. 

He wasn’t built for this century, something that Steve shared his sympathy with but he had at the very least found an omega for himself. In his day, dating was for marriage and nowadays it seemed to be for a quick fuck to get your rocks off. Bucky was considered a playboy in the 40s, he’d dated a few omegas and maybe helped a few during their heats, but he’d always been motivated to take care of someone, provide for them, and give them anything they wanted. 

A lot had changed in all his years as Hydra’s perfect soldier. 

The serum amplified everything. Steve had the same issues sometimes, too. Bucky was already considered a strong alpha in his time with high instincts, but it had only gotten worse since they’d pumped him full of that blue serum. His ruts came more often, Hydra had either pumped him full of suppressants or thrown a random woman for him to take the edge off with. He was more aggressive and more protective. 

Omegas didn’t need knots anymore, they didn’t pick up on scents or could tell when his own turned sour when they threw themselves at him. Bucky wasn’t a fan of the fake lips or fake tits, he wanted something natural. 

Someone natural to him. 

“She ran away from you?” Sam asked as Bucky sat awkwardly in the backseat of Steve’s car, grumbling to himself, “Damn,” 

“I scared her, okay?” Bucky stated, not wanting to think of his latest, horrible date, “That’s all,” 

“You’ll find someone who's not scared, okay?” Steve spoke up, “It’ll take a while,” 

Maybe if he didn’t die of blue balls first. 

Steve pulled up next to a little shop and Bucky looked out the window, confused. They were supposed to be going back to the tower, yet Sam and Steve had raved on about some bakery that they had to stop at or both Thor and Nat would have their heads. 

“It doesn’t look special,” Bucky remarked as he climbed out of the car, stretching his legs and groaning. 

Some how Sam always got the front seat to the car, despite Bucky being almost twice his size. 

“I’m telling you, man, this place is magical or something,” Sam went on as they walked to the front door, “We all come here whenever we’re in the city or do an order to get delivered out to us, the food is amazing,” 

Bucky was still learning to appreciate food, he’d spent so long only eating for survival, he forgot how to enjoy it. 

The bakery smelt like a bakery, bread and a slight sweetness to the air. Only all those scents seemed to fade away when he stepped inside behind Steve and Sam, his head whipping to a woman who was wiping down the wooden tables. 

A distinct smell of plums and sugar filled his senses, mixed with a slight edge of something warm that he couldn’t but his finger on. This scent was so homey and delicious, it made his mouth water and something twist in his chest, a low rumble he hadn’t felt in almost a century awakening to life. 

This woman finally turned around and it clicked in Bucky’s head and chest, he knew exactly what you were to him. The feeling had been told to him time and time again by his parents, his sister when she’d met her mate and his old army buddies. 

You were his mate. 

But an edge hit the scent and it almost made Bucky drop to his knees, the sweetness of an incoming omega heat, of his omega’s heat. Steve seemed to shift too, looking at you before he looked at Bucky as he heard the growl that left the man’s chest. 

“Buck?” 

Then there was the noise, that little noise that seemed to shoot through his ears and bounce around his brain. It was a cry for help and he needed to respond to it, surging forward only for Steve and Sam to both grab him. 

“Bucky! Calm down!” Steve yelled out as they barely managed to wrestle him out the door and tackle him into the concrete footpath of New York City. 

The fresh air seemed to jolt him back to reality, pushing both the men off himself as Steve held his hands out, waiting to be attacked. 

“You good?” Sam questioned, panting, “Man, you super soldiers need to calm the fuck down sometimes,” 

“Buck, you growled,” Steve questioned, “What was that?” 

“Her..,” Bucky barely managed to grunt out. “It’s her, Steve,” 

The blonde super solider look back at the bakery before looking at his best friend, bewildered. Bucky stood up, smoothing a hand through his hair before he suddenly the punched the concrete wall beside them. The surge of alpha hormones pumping in his blood was putting him on edge. 

“Can we not destroy public property?!” Sam yelled. 

– 

You had spent a whole seven days in heat, which hadn’t been supposed to come for another month before it had suddenly triggered in the bakery that day. You had no idea who the man with Steve and Sam was, all you knew was that he’d triggered some primal urge in you. 

Never had a scent triggered you into a heat. You didn’t even know that it was possible, everyone always smelt so off-putting that it almost had you gag when an alpha stood to close. Sometimes omegas, like Elise, were pleasant enough to withstand, but alphas were usually disgusting. The one and only boyfriend you’d ever had was an omega. 

 Returning the day after your heat had your body groaning protest, the cramps still slightly there as you walked into the back door of the bakery. Elise had opened, you usually took the late shift since you loved to sleep in especially more now that winter would be approaching soon. 

“You didn’t have to come back so soon,” Elise spoke as she pulled a tray of muffins from the oven, “Jordy is happy for the extra shifts.” 

Jordy was a casual employee for the bakery. She was studying at college and usually helped out whenever exams weren’t drilling her into the ground. 

“I’ll be fine,” You smiled small as you placed your bag in the office before walking to the front of the bakery. 

That smell hit you again and you almost buckled to the floor. The strangely cold scent of musk and pine filled the air, hands shaking as you turned towards the person who had just walked through the door. 

He had cleaned up a little bit, his beard looked a little bit neater and he wasn’t wearing a cap today. Instead, he was in a plain black jacket and jeans, gloves on his hands. The gloves made you frown slightly, you had briefly remember him having a metal arm or was that some heat induced delusion? 

“H-hi,” His voice cracked as he stepped up to the counter, “Uh..,” 

“C-can I get something f-for you?” You stuttered out, gripping the edge of the counter until your knuckles turned white. 

Everything was screaming at you to climb over the stupid wooden bench and throw yourself at this man. 

“These are for you.” 

His words came out rushed as he thrust a bouquet in your direction, the white orchids making your heart swell as you gently accepted them. No one had bought you flowers before, not that your dating history was rich with excitement and gifts from suitors. 

You’d only dated one person before, and it had been an absolute train wreck. 

“I’m Bucky.. Or James.., whatever you want to call me,” He cleared his throat, clearly nervous. 

Your name was uttered from your lips in a whispered, holding the flowers close to your chest. Bucky’s face softened, you had accepted the flowers and that was a step in the right direction. Maybe his therapist would finally be happy that he’d done something good with his time. 

“Uh, so do you-” 

His words were cut off by a phone ringing, and you watched as he groaned, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and glaring at the device. The actions almost made you giggle because something was so relaxing about his presence and his scent. Bucky was the first alpha that didn’t make you want to crawl into a hole and never come out. 

“I’m sorry, it’s important,” He sighed. 

Bucky answered the call before basically rushing from the bakery, you watching him run down the street at an unusually fast speed. 

“Finally!” 

You screamed when Elise popped up from the kitchen window, making you jump and almost throw the flowers before you turned to your boss with wide eyes and heart racing fast enough to jump start a car. 

“Poor guy’s been coming to the shop every day, waiting for you.” 

Elise had been right, Bucky had been coming to the bakery almost everyday and he continued to do so. You always thought that the Avengers lived further away from the city, different members appeared in the bakery every so often. But Bucky kept up the appearances and you had settled into a steady rhythm with the alpha. 

Bucky came around lunch time, you shared your break together before he left and then he walked you home. 

The cool evening air wraps around you as Bucky walked beside you, the rhythmic sound of your shoes tapping against the pavement the only noise that fills the quiet night. You’d just finished your shift at the bakery, and even though it’s late, you can’t shake the exhaustion weighing down on your shoulders. Your body aches from the hours on your feet, the constant motion, the endless demands of the customers, the heat of the ovens. You’re drained—completely.

But the thought of leaving work, of stepping away from your responsibilities, has you feeling a little more at ease. The comfort of Bucky’s steady presence beside you is almost as much of a relief as being able to slip out of your apron and leave the chaotic bakery behind. It’s not that you dislike your job, but your omega instincts have always told you something else—that you’re not meant to be working so hard, that there’s more to your life than running yourself ragged in a place that doesn’t feel like home.

“You look like you’re about to collapse,” Bucky says, his voice low but warm, noticing the way you’re dragging your feet just a little bit more than usual. He glances at you with that look in his eyes, one that’s almost protective, like he can see exactly what you need.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, but even you know it’s a lie. Your body is exhausted, your mind too, and you can feel the weight of your designation, the constant pressure to be strong, independent, and capable.

“No, you’re not.” Bucky’s voice is firm, and for a second, it takes you by surprise. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, instead slipping his arm around your shoulders and gently guiding you forward. “You shouldn’t be working so hard, you know that?”

You glance up at him, unsure of where he’s going with this. “What do you mean? I need to work. I need the money, and—”

“Forget that for a minute,” he interrupts, his voice softer now. “Omegas weren’t meant to be working themselves into the ground. Not like this. Your instincts—your body—they’re not built for it. You’re supposed to be pampered. Protected.”

You blink in confusion. “Pampered?”

Bucky chuckles, the sound rich and warm, like a secret only shared between the two of you. “Yeah. I know it’s hard to wrap your head around, especially with everything being the way it is now. But omegas like you? You’re meant to be taken care of, not pushed to your limits every day.”

You pause, the weight of his words sinking in. For the longest time, you’ve been told that working hard, being self-sufficient, was the way to live. Your parents had drilled it into you, given you no other choice than to support yourself. It’s what you’ve always known. The thought of not working so much, of letting someone else take care of you, feels foreign. It feels wrong, almost.

“But I have to work,” you protest weakly, feeling your tired muscles protesting every word. “I can’t just… sit around and do nothing.”

Bucky’s hand tightens slightly on your shoulder, not in a forceful way, but in a way that grounds you, reminding you that he’s here. “It’s not about doing nothing. You’ve got gifts, things you can do, but your role… it’s to be cherished, not to be constantly worn out. An omega needs rest, care, and someone who’ll give them the space to be soft, to be who they are without the pressure of the world on their shoulders.”

You’re silent for a moment, letting his words settle in. It’s hard to accept, to let go of the mentality that you should be doing more, pushing yourself to be productive and independent. But when you look at him—his warmth, the way he’s always there, steady and unbothered by what the world thinks—you feel the heaviness in your chest begin to ease just a little.

Bucky smiles down at you, his eyes twinkling with a gentle amusement. “You’re not a machine, sweetheart. You don’t have to keep running like this. You need someone who’ll take care of you, spoil you a little. Maybe even pamper you a bit.” He raises an eyebrow, and for the first time that evening, a genuine smile pulls at the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know about being pampered,” you mutter, feeling a little embarrassed at the thought.

“You’d be surprised,” Bucky grins. “But I’ll take care of you, okay? No more working yourself into the ground. You deserve to rest. You deserve to be protected.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the soft sincerity behind them reaching places inside you that you didn’t know needed mending. Maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t have to do it all on your own. Maybe it was okay to lean on someone else, to trust them with your well-being, with your care.

“I don’t know if I can just… stop working,” you admit quietly, almost to yourself. But Bucky doesn’t seem bothered by your uncertainty.

“You don’t have to stop completely,” he says, his tone reassuring. “But you don’t have to wear yourself out like this either. You deserve to relax, to enjoy life without always feeling like you’re carrying the weight of the world. Let someone take care of the heavy lifting for a change.”

You exhale softly, a tiny chuckle. You didn’t have to worry about heavy lifting physically, because Elise’ strange gift gave her the advantage of hauling the heavy things around. But  the tension in your shoulders begins to melt away as you walk beside him. The idea of letting go—of surrendering just a little to the care of someone else—feels freeing in a way you didn’t expect. Maybe, just maybe, you could let Bucky help carry the load.

And for the first time in a long while, the thought of being cared for feels less like a burden and more like something you can let yourself want.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely a breath. “I’ll try.”

Bucky’s smile deepens, and he leans down just slightly to catch your gaze. “Good. I’ll make sure you get the rest you need.”

As the two of you continue walking, his arm still gently around you, the idea of being pampered doesn’t seem as strange anymore. Maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this new reality.

It had become routine for two weeks now, slowly enjoying his presence as you joined him for lunch again, the musk and pine scent making you relax and your body not scream in pain for once in your life. 

“For a bakery, these are good sandwiches,” Bucky spoke as he scoffed down his second hot sandwich. 

“Elise’ parents owned a bodega downtown. she got good at making them,” You beamed softly, sipping at the cup of water you usually had with lunch. 

“You gotta eat too, doll,” Bucky pushed the sweet treats towards you, “Come on,” 

He always made an effort to make sure you were well fed, as any good alpha in his time should have done. 

“I’m getting there,” You laughed softly and nibbled on a pastry that had been made fresh that morning. 

Your parents had always lectured you on not overeating but you seemed to crave food often, like your instincts demanded food to keep up with something. 

“So,” Bucky leaned back in his seat, content in watching you eat, “Where did you grow up?” 

“Chicago,” You told him with a shrug, “I do prefer New York,” 

Bucky nodded, noting the way your scent had an edge of burnt caramel to it, “Your parents still living in Chicago?” 

You couldn’t help but scrunch your nose up and Bucky thought how you looked like a bunny, all soft yet displeased with his question by your scent. 

“I don’t really talk to my parents anymore,” You whispered, placing the pastry down. 

For a moment, you expected him to ask before Bucky just silently nodded and smiled. 

“Only family I got is Steve and Sam, like two brothers I never asked for,” Bucky confessed. 

You giggled, a light floral scent blooming from you, and Bucky felt his heart swell. 

Your days continued like that, a lunch date and a quiet walk home in the early evening. The walks home were usually silent, just walking side by side down the street before you and Bucky bid each other goodbye at your building door. 

That was until one day they didn’t, and you were displeased when Bucky didn’t show up to share lunch. Elise watched as you sat sadly in the booth, hardly touching lunch before returning to work with silence as you served customers. 

Had Bucky found you boring? Did he find out that you weren’t normal, your instincts and genetics wired differently? Had it scared him off? 

It was starting to get even colder now, the threat of snow looming over New York. You were lost in thought as you stepped onto the street, turning to lock the door until a click and something pressed against your lower back. 

“Don’t move.” The voice was muffled, but you knew what was pressed against your back as you stood, shaking on the bakery steps. 

This person’s scent made you want to vomit, your instincts going haywire as you didn’t dare to move and face your assailant. 

“You’re kinda cute,” The alpha sniffed, “Turn around, bitch,” 

You did what you were told, slowly turning as tears rolled down your cheeks. This alpha held a gun to your body, snickering and smirking as he looked you up and down. It was violating, feeling his eyes scan your body. 

“Unlock the door and get the cash from the register,” He hissed, the gun now pointing to your head. 

“P-please..,” You whispered. 

The next moment happened so fast that all you saw was a glimmer of metal before the attacker was sent flying into the wall. 

– 

Bucky was going to strangle someone. 

He had asked for uninterrupted time with you, which he had gotten for the most part. Staying at the tower mostly by himself had been nice, getting away from all the smells in the compound was clearing his head. But your scent seemed to be burnt into his brain, because he could smell the lingering scent no matter where he was. 

His instincts wanted nothing more than to steal you away from that bakery and keep you locked up in his room at the tower, marking you, mating you, and scenting you. Sometimes, it irritated him when your smell of sugar and plums wasn’t mixed with his scent. In the forties, scent mates usually got married within a week. 

But Bucky was a gentleman, something this time didn’t appreciate so much anymore. 

Getting sent on that mission was stupid; he shouldn’t have had to go, It was easily handled by Sam and Steve, after all, Bucky was nothing more than a sniper and a look out. He should have been here with you, sharing lunch and hearing all about your life and loves. His best friends had noticed his irritation, and Steve had picked up on his burning scent, but neither of them had mentioned it. 

Now, he was rushing down the cold New York streets, looking repeatedly at his watch as he made his way to the cozy shop. The Bakery closed at seven thirty, and it was almost that time, meaning he could at the very least apologize for missing lunch and walk you home. 

Turning down the street, Bucky picked up on your scent easily but it didn’t smell right this time. That smell of burnt caramel mixed with the plums, indicating that something was wrong and it kick started Bucky’s system into overdrive. He was running before he knew it, straight towards that little bakery. 

Years as a soldier made petty thieves seem like ants to him, grabbing the other alpha by the throat and throwing him into the concrete wall before he stalked over, making sure your attacker was out of it. 

Would he need medical attention? Yes. 

Did he deserve it? No. Not in Bucky’s eyes. 

You sobbed, and all of Bucky’s instincts zoned in on your shaking form. 

The scent was something he wanted to erase, he never wanted to smell burnt caramel again because it meant you were upset. You were shaking, tears rolling down your cheeks even as he reached out and cupped your cheeks, metal and flesh fingers wiping away the tears. 

“Can I?” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, offering you a choice even though you both know what you need.

You nod wordlessly, your throat tight. It’s like your body knows the comfort he’s offering even before your mind catches up. When his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, it’s like the last of the tension in your body melts away. The overwhelming scent of him envelops you, and you instinctively breathe him in, the warmth of his embrace sinking into your bones.

Bucky frowned; he hadn’t done this in a while, consoling an omega with scent. But he pushed his scent forward, rubbing his wrists over your neck while wiping the tears away. You finally calmed down when Bucky pulled his massive jacket off and placed it around your shoulders. 

It warmed you up instantly, the musk and pine scent calming all your nerves and emotions as you collected yourself again. You can feel his eyes on you, gentle and understanding, but there’s something more—something primal in the way his scent seems to flow around you, slowly calming your racing heartbeat. His natural warmth seems to bleed into the space between you, and even though you're still shaken, you can’t help but lean slightly into him.

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, stepping closer, his voice quiet and soothing. “You’re okay. He’s gone. You���re safe.”

“Y-yeah..,” You stuttered out before letting out another sob as the wave of emotions hit you now that the shock was gone. 

You needed something a lit bit more, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around his bigger frame. You hadn’t had time to stop yourself before you hugged him, your instincts and desire just craved the physical touch. 

Bucky didn’t say anything, just wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you close. The pressure of his embrace combined with his scent, eventually calmed everything until you could take a step back and finally breath. 

“Thank you..,” You uttered. 

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Bucky placed a hand on your back, guiding you down the street towards your apartment building. 

Like every other day, it was silent, but it was a peaceful silence. Bucky’s sense of protectiveness was thick, his musk getting heavier, and it almost made you want to fall asleep for some strange reason. 

As you approached your apartment building, your mind raced before it landed on a conclusion. 

You were going to ask Bucky inside. 

“I..,” You started, Bucky looking at you intently, “Do.., you want to come up?” 

He was frozen in spot and you mentally face-palmed. Was that the wrong question to ask? It didn’t have to lead anything, not that you hadn’t fantasized about this hunk of a man in front you for your entire heat and any little sessions after that. 

“I’m sorry..,” You apologized quickly. 

“No, no, Doll, it’s not like that,” Bucky quickly spoke as soon as he realised why you were apologizing, “I’d love to, I mean, I would but I want to do this right..,” 

“Right?” You questioned, “Bucky, you just saved my life.” 

“Yeah..,” He nodded, “I mean, let me take you out on a date.” 

Your heart swelled at the question, quickly nodding your head before going to pull the jacket off your shoulders. Only Bucky stopped you, readjusting the jacket and keeping it firmly on your shoulders and even zipping it up. 

“Keep it, Doll,” Bucky smiled, “Makes you smell like me.” 

Not only did that make your heart flutter but your pussy did too. 

“Okay..,” Your voice came out small yet excited. 

“How’s Saturday?” Bucky asked, “I can pick you up from the shop.” 

You nodded eagerly. “Saturday is perfect.” 

– 

Steve, Sam, and Nat’s arrival at the Avenger’s tower late Friday afternoon had sent all of Bucky’s plans into the dirt. It was like the two alphas and beta knew Bucky was seeing you and decided to mess them all up with a flurry of questions and interrogation.

“You’re going on a date?” Steve asked as they stood in the kitchen, Bucky messing with his shirt. 

“Yes, a date,” Bucky huffed, “With the omega from the bakery,” 

“The one you went all weird macho alpha on?” Sam teased as he sipped his drink, “Poor lady must have some weird kinks-” 

The snapped Bucky’s attention, making him growl again and glare at Sam. The beta took a step back as Nat entered the room, the only one keeping the cyborg at bay was Steve. 

“You really think she’s your scent mate?” Steve asked, “Buck, that stuff doesn’t exist in these days,” 

“Evolution changed all of that,” Nat spoke up as she grabbed a beer from the fridge, “But then again, you’re an ancient man,” 

Bucky didn’t respond to Nat’s statement. He knew what the red room had done to all those girls and woman that were trained to be Black Widows. They targeted alpha girls as children, trained them and harnessed their senses but made them never able to connect with a mate. Scent glands removed and removal of the reproduction organs. 

At the very least, Hydra hadn’t taken that from him while they had taken it from Nat. 

“You three better not stalk me,” Bucky huffed. 

“We won’t,” Steve nodded, giving his best friend and fellow alpha a pat on the shoulder. 

Sam’s comment made Bucky roll his eyes, “But Redwing might!” 

Bucky had picked the perfect place for your date, it was quiet and not overly busy, so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed. He’d seen the way you got flustered when a lot of people came to the bakery at once, so it was something low-key and you could just focus on each other. 

You had been anxious for the two days before Saturday, Elise had been nothing but excited on your behalf and even tried to give you some pointers but it flew in one ear and out the other. All you knew was that you were looking forward to see Bucky, regardless of the date or not.

But the one setback in your mind was, once again, how unusual you were. 

Could he deal with something like that? He saved people every day as an Avenger. Was this something long-term or just trying to mess around? 

The doorbell chimed and you jumped, turning to see Bucky standing at the door in a black coat and washed out, grey jeans. His hair was tied up for once, but it looked nice. You wore a simple dark blue dress with long sleeves to combat the Winter that was now setting in and hugged your waist slightly. 

“Hi,” Bucky greeted as he stepped forward and that scent filled the space, filling you with ease. 

If things didn’t work out, you were probably going to be spending the rest of your life alone. 

“Hi Buck..,” You stepped out from behind counter, a shy smile on your face while Bucky pulled something out from his pocket. 

“I..I got you this,” He cleared his throat, opening up a little box, “It’s a bracelet.” 

Your eyes shifted to the gold link band, that had a little black star charm on it. No doubt it was made specially to compliment his arm, something matching to remind you of the super soldier. Gingerly, Bucky locked the bracelet around your wrist, while you watched the gold twinkle with awe. 

“Hey, supes!” Elise called out, “Have her back by midnight!” 

Bucky just chuckled as he offered up his arm, something you gladly took, and walked out of the bakery. 

– 

The place is cozy, with vinyl booths and checkered floors, the kind of spot where the air smells like comfort food and old-time charm. The soft hum of background music fills the space, and the low murmur of other diners adds to the quiet atmosphere. The smell of sizzling burgers and fresh fries teases your senses, but it’s the calm, welcoming vibe that makes it the perfect place for a quiet night out.

It was quiet, thankfully. Bucky thanked his lucky stars as you were sat in a booth, watching you go over the menu before you both ordered. You didn’t usually eat too much, making food was a passion but working had you so tired most days that you lived off noodles or leftovers from the bakery. 

You felt a little bit lighter in his presence but deep down, weighing on your soul was the shame you’d been carrying because of your sub-gender. It made you uneasy on how it might progress your relationship with Bucky or stop it all together. 

“So,” Bucky cleared his throat, “How long have you worked at the bakery?” 

A small smile plays on your lips, and you relax just a little bit. It’s easy to talk about the bakery, about the work you do.

“Four years,” you say, your fingers nervously tracing a pattern on the table. “I started there right after I left home. Elise was looking for someone part-time, and it just… clicked. I love it. I love the people. I love baking. It feels like I’m doing something meaningful.”

“I gotta say, the food is amazing and I don’t usually like sweet thing,” Bucky confessed, “And it smells so good,” 

You laugh softly, a light flush creeping onto your cheeks. “Well, I do try to make the best cinnamon rolls in town. People seem to like them.” Your voice falters a bit as the conversation shifts, the weight in your chest slowly building again.

Bucky watches you, his eyes soft with curiosity. He notices the shift, the way your shoulders tense, and doesn’t push, simply waiting for you to continue.

You decided now was the time to be truthful, lay the cards on the table and see what he was dealing with. 

“My parents kicked me out when I was eighteen,” You nibbled on some fries as you spoke, “They couldn’t handle..dealing with me, I barely finished school and no college wanted to accept me, I was nothing but a burden,” 

Bucky’s face hardened, noting the way your scent smelt like candied plums now, an indication of fear and shame. He never wanted you to feel like that. Reaching across the table, his flesh hand covers your own, grounding you in the moment. 

“Listen to me,” he finally says, his voice soft but resolute. “You’re not a burden. Never have been, never will be. And I don’t care what your parents think. I want to build a home with you, one where you don’t have to worry about that kind of shit. I’ll take care of you, and you’ll never be alone again.”

“Bucky,” You placed your fries down, “I’m not like other omegas,” 

“Why’s that?” 

“I’m..an anomaly,” You confessed, “I can smell people’s sub-genders. I’m submissive because my brain tells me to be..I…I get heats, I hoard things!” 

Heats were the most shameful part for you.

It was silent for a moment before Bucky smiled, chuckling even as he took in the information. Fate was a bitch, Bucky Barnes knew that enough but maybe fate was now being kind, giving him an omega that he could help, provide for and please. 

“Doll, I’m from the 1940’s and I’m well over a hundred years old,” Bucky chuckled. “That’s normal where I come from. You’re perfect,” 

You were dumbfounded. 

Bucky grins then, breaking the tension with a light chuckle. “I mean, we all have our weird quirks, right? Like, I’m pretty sure I’m not exactly normal either. I have a metal arm and super human strength”

You raise an eyebrow at him, a small laugh escaping you despite yourself. “Oh really? What’s so weird about you?”

He leans back, pretending to think, then smirks. “Well, I hoard things too. I mean, I’ve got about ten knives at home, and I don’t even cook.”

You can’t help but laugh out loud at that, and Bucky’s grin grows wider. “See? Everyone’s got their thing. What’s yours?”

You bite your lip, the smile fading a little as you think about it. “I… I hoard blankets,” you say, almost sheepishly. “I just feel like I need a lot of them. It’s, uh… comforting. I don’t know, I guess it’s a weird thing, but I don’t like being cold.”

Bucky’s eyes light up, and he chuckles again. “Hoarding blankets? That’s not weird at all. That’s just your instinct, sweetheart. Omegas like to have soft things around them—makes them feel safe, it's your nest.”

“My what?” 

Bucky turned, his arm whirred as he did so and looked you in the eyes. Those blue eyes were filled with a mix of concern and amusement that came out in his scent as an almost citrus undertone. 

“Your nest,” Bucky stated, “Do you not know what a nest is?” 

You shook your head. 

“It’s your.. Safe space,” He explained, “For you to rest, spend your heats…, have pups in,” 

You swallowed thickly at the word pups, it made your instincts suddenly kick into over drive. The thought of pups with Bucky? Divine, you couldn’t think of anything better in this universe. He’d be an amazing father no doubt, you’d let him breed you as many times as it took until you had a full soccer team of kids. 

“Omega,” 

The deep drawl pulled you out of your haze, watching the way Bucky’s eyes seemed to be clouded over and his nostrils flared slightly. He could smell you, no doubt about it. 

“Calm down before things get out of hand,” Bucky managed to cough out. “How have you been spending your heats?” 

“Alone,” You mumbled, “I..I had a boyfriend once, he was an omega like me but.., it just didn’t work,” 

Bucky almost wanted to scoff. Of course, it wouldn’t work; an omega wouldn’t be able to please you like an alpha. No, like he would. This day and age might have lost a lot of the sub-gender characteristics and norms but some things were still engraved in those instincts. 

Specifically with mating. 

“Um, Bucky?” You whispered so softly that he almost didn’t hear you. 

“Yeah?” He spoke back just as softly.

“Can you help me with my nest?” 

– 

The sound of a nest was so lovely and exciting to you that you forgot that your apartment wasn’t best-looking one in New York. It was small, with one bedroom and a bathroom, as it was all you could afford if you wanted to have any money left over from what you earned at work. 

Bucky found the space cute, the mismatched furniture, the blankets piled high in one corner, the cozy rug decorated with throw blankets on the couch, hanging plants, and lots of books. Everything feels like a reflection of you: warm but full of character. The kitchen was tiny and you didn’t have a dining table. The space made him want to provide for you more, a rumble in his chest indicating his intent that he was trying so hard to keep down at the moment. 

This moment was for you, helping you make a nest. 

Nests were so sacred in the 40s. Most homes came with a specific room for omegas to create nests in, you could buy blankets, pillows and a range of other items from nest specific stores that just didn’t exist anymore today. Omega children often learnt nesting skills from their omega parent or siblings. An omegas nest was the most vulnerable part of them and you asking for his help was the most trusting thing you could do. 

After all his years in Hydra, Bucky didn’t think he’d ever be in an omegas nest again. 

Your room was also small, with a massive bed and a set of draws with some bed side tables. It wasn’t too heavily decorated, other than the piles of blankets and pillows that seemed to be thrown around the room. 

Bucky stopped at the door because that smell that hit him wasn’t just your usual scent, it was something stronger. The smell of sugar plums with floral notes, warm caramel and freshly baked cinnamon rolls invaded his senses and he couldn’t help but slump slightly against the door. He could die a happy, happy alpha in this room. 

You rushed to pick up a few of the blankets, moving them into a corner. 

“Um, this is my bedroom,” You uttered out, a lit bit embarrassed as she space was so small, “Sorry it’s a mess right now, I didn’t think you’d be coming over-” 

“Omega,” Bucky’s voice deepened and you went hazy again, empty headed as you just looked at him, “Come here,” 

Trudging along the floor, you stopped in front of him. Bucky was already a big guy but now he looked massive in your tiny apartment. His metal hand softly cupped your chin and the other rested on her collar bone, his thumb moving along your skin. 

A strong scent invaded your senses, that musky pine making your knees weak and lulling all your worry and anxiousness away. It was a time to listen to your instincts, which made you want to find something soft, something warm. 

Bucky watched as you gathered up the blankets, arranging them on your bed and fluffing out the pillows. It wasn’t neat but nests weren’t supposed to be, they were meant to be however you liked it.

At times, you would shake your head in frustration, sending a pillow flying from the bed, only to swap it for a blanket instead. The switch was an intricate ritual of comfort and restlessness intertwined.

His heart tightened with a mix of emotions as he watched you retrieve the jacket he had gifted you just a few days prior. With deliberate care, you tucked it into one of the pillowcases, as if enshrining a precious memory. You arranged it meticulously amidst the sea of pillows, creating a sanctuary of warmth and familiarity.

Finally, you nestled into this cozy haven, curling up with a sigh of contentment. Your face burrowed into the inviting softness, seeking solace in the comforting embrace of fabric and sentiment.

“Will you join me?” 

That jump started Bucky’s brain. 

“You sure?” Bucky asked, “This is a vulnerable place for you to be in.” 

“I made it with the intent of having you in it, A-Alpha.” 

That one word had him spiraling, quickly kicking off his shoes and breaching the collection of blankets and pillows. Bucky had no intention of anything physical today, but a cuddle in your nest was more cherished than sex. 

Bucky laid down slowly, letting you get comfortable. His metal arm whizzed slightly, and Bucky couldn’t help but frown. It was a reminder that he wasn’t whole, maybe if you’d met him back in the 40s, when he had been a young man not yet affected by the war or years of brainwashing, you’d have liked him more.

“I can take it off,” He whispered. 

“The sound is soothing,” You hummed as you laid against his metal arm, cuddling up to the device with content, “And it’s a part of you,” 

There was no way in hell Bucky was ever letting you go now. 

A rumbling sound vibrated from your chest and your eyes opened, confused. Bucky felt a lump form in his throat, letting a deeper sounding rumble from his own chest. 

“What am I doing?” You asked. 

“Purring,” Bucky cupped your cheek, his thumb running over your nose, “You’re purring, doll, you do it when you feel safe and happy,” 

Little tears filled your eyes before you shifted closer to him, the purring louder as you took in his words. The world made you feel like an outcast, something placed out of time and having no place to belong. 

But Bucky had fixed up those feelings in these short weeks. 

As you drifted off to sleep, Bucky silent pulled out his phone and dialed Steve’s number. 

“How’s it going, Buck?” Steve’s voice called from the other end, “All is well, I hope?” 

“Steve,” Bucky swallowed as he spoke, “I need to buy a house,”

– 

The next morning was supposed to be peaceful, calm and loving. Bucky had stayed the night, both of you cuddled up in your nest. But you woke in the early hours before the sun rose, aching and sweaty as you crawled out of the nest and only the cold, hard wood floor. Your dress was discarded as you worked to cool yourself down as the fever was quickly rising.

Bucky must have sensed you move because soon enough, he was awake and next to you on the floor. 

“Hun,” He whispered softly, “Hey, look at me,” 

“It..,” You groaned, “Burns.., It’s so hot,” 

The sweet smell that filled the room was a sign your heat had started and Bucky knew, he knew that if you waited any longer, you’d been in more pain. You were already curled up on the floor, slick coating your thighs while you whimpered. The musk of Bucky’s scent only helped take the edge off a tiny bit, if anything, it made your instincts more heightened as your body screamed for him. 

Bucky shushed you, one strong hand slipping behind your back, pulling you into his lap. His metal fingers ghosted over your bare thigh, leaving a cool trail that contrasted the fire burning inside you. “I know, Omega. I know. Just let go, I’ve got you.”

You mewled, squirming in his lap and fingers digging into his shirt. His scent was thicker now, you could get hints of smoke amongst the musk and pine. 

“You’re doing’ so good, sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. His voice was thick, laced with the deep rumble of his Alpha instincts, but he held himself back—for you. “Just breathe. Let me take care of you,”

His lips found the sensitive spot on your throat, where his mark should be, and he pressed a lingering kiss there. You melted, body instinctively arching for him, trusting him completely.

“Mine,” he growled, possessiveness thrumming through his scent as he held you closer. But even in his need, he was gentle, letting you set the pace, letting you surrender only when you were ready.

And oh, you were so, so ready.

Bucky hauled you back up into the nest, making sure you were comfortable among the pillows and blankets as he hovered over you. That possessiveness stayed thick in his scent as he kissed you, lips tugging at your own and you melted again. 

The heat was starting to become unbearable. It clawed at your skin, leaving you breathless and aching, every cell in your body crying out for something you didn’t quite know how to ask for.

But he did.

His lips moved down your throat again and when he bit softly, you couldn’t help crying out in pleasure. You wanted that bite mark to be deeper, you wanted his teeth to be embedded in your skin, your instincts wanted to be marked. 

“B-bucky..,” You cried out and he gingerly cupped your face. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you, doll,” He whispered. 

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” You managed to gasp out, “I..I need you,” 

That was the line that broke all reason. 

His metal arm ripped the remaining clothes from your skin, a whimper leaving your throat as Bucky’s hands wandered over your body. The coolness of the metal arm was oddly soothing as it worked over your breasts and his lips wrapped around one of your nipples. 

In your only previous experience, you hadn’t been liked to be touched so much. Your omega ex-boyfriend hadn’t been confident like Bucky was. 

His tongue swirled around the hardened bud, your body writhing underneath him before Bucky proceeded to press kisses down your skin. He could smell your slick, the floral scent filling the room and it was starting to make him dizzy. 

When his fingers trailed down with his lips and collected the slick coating your thighs, you almost screamed when he used the same fingers to swirl around your sensitive clit. 

“Oh god...oh god Bucky!” you cried out, your body surging at the gentle contact. You were so sensitive, it was almost too much, but it felt so good. Your hands reached out for him, desperate to hold onto anything as he kept teasing you, driving you insane with want.

You could feel his breath ghosting over your aching core, a promise that had your body trembling in anticipation.

“Need this too?” He teased, voice thick.

“Please,” you begged, “please Alpha.”

That did it. His lips latched onto your quivering pussy and the world turned white as your back arched off the bed and into his waiting hands. You came apart with a choked cry as he held you through it, tongue never stopping until he’d wrung every last aftershock from your trembling body.

But it wasn’t enough. The heat still clawed at you, still demanded more.

“Please,” you whimpered again softly, and Bucky bit the inside of his cheek.

Giving you his knot would make everything all better but he wasn’t even sure if you knew what a knot was. From his understanding, alphas didn’t knot their omegas anymore.

Hell, Alphas didn’t even seek out omegas anymore.

“This will change everything,” Bucky groaned, your scent invading his senses and almost making him lose control, “Are you sure, omega?”

His words were fuzzy as he spoke, like hearing underwater. All you knew was that you needed him, all of him, your instincts screaming for Bucky to fuck you and breed you.

“Need you,” you breathed, almost sobbing with it. “Please, Bucky.”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t want to. The metal hand pulled his own clothes off while his flesh hand stayed on your thigh.

The next moment, Bucky’s hands were on your hips, pulling you into him as he buried himself inside of you in one firm thrust. You cried out, the mix of relief and overwhelming need washing through you as he filled you completely.

“Oh fuck,” he grunted, his voice raw as he started to move, slow and controlled at first but quickly giving in to the urgency of your heat. “S-so tight, Omega...”

The feeling of him inside you was everything you needed and more. Your legs wrapped around him as he drove into you over and over, each thrust sending a dizzying wave of pleasure through your body.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, clinging onto him like he was the only thing keeping you from floating away.

“Never gonna stop,” he promised, his breath ragged and his movements slow in the beginning.

Bucky's cock inside you was hot and thick, filling you completely and sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

The sensations were dizzying as you felt every ridge and vein of his cock moving inside you, each one adding to the pleasure coursing through your body. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks at the sensation, pleasure erupting through you in a wave.

Bucky’s pace got faster, rougher, his cock pumping in and out of you while his hands remained on your hips. He was guiding your body against his, pressure building with each desperate thrust.

You felt the heat coil tighter, tighter until—

“Oh god!” you cried out, clenching around him again as you came for the second time. The force of it made you see stars and your whole body trembled violently under him.

But Bucky didn’t stop. He knew what he needed to do to soothe your heat entirely. He could feel it in the way your body still begged for more, your slick coated cunt sucking his cock in, in the way your scent still drove him wild.

The grip on your hips tightened and Bucky growled low in his throat as he held you flush against him. His thrusts became frantic, driven by pure instinct and need. And then you felt it—his knot swelling inside you, locking the both of you together.

A feral sound tore from his chest and he bit down on your neck at the same time as his knot stretched you impossibly wide, marking you forever as his omega.

It was the aftershock that had you crying out, fingers digging into Bucky’s broad shoulders as emotions slammed into your body. You let out a sob and Bucky soothed you, a low growl vibrating through his chest as he pulled you upwards until you were sitting in his lap. His knot was still locked deep inside your cunt, but it wasn’t painful.

You felt complete.

“B-Buck..,” You sobbed.

“I got you,” Bucky’s deep voice cooed at you, “Promise..,”

Then a purr began to vibrate in your own chest.

Bucky’s hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your heated cheek with utmost tenderness.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his words thick with affection as your purrs vibrated against each other.

You were wrapped around him in every possible way, mind hazy with the overwhelming sensation of being so completely claimed and content. The heat that had seared through your body was now a warm, comfortable buzz, soothed entirely by Bucky and his knot.

It was everything. It was perfect.

He shifted slightly, careful not to jostle you too much and you whimpered softly at the motion. He had never thought he’d have this, never thought he’d be tangled up in blankets with an omega in his lap and a bond forming between them. After never finding his scent mate back in the 40s, Bucky thought he’d never have this type of happiness.

But here you were.

Your fingers played at the ends of his hair as you calmed down from the high, as reality settled in that this wasn’t a dream for both of you.

[brainddeadd]

Halloween Party

The New Jersey Devils' Halloween party was destined to be anything but normal. You knew that from the moment you walked into the venue—a rented-out lounge decked with fake cobwebs, jack-o-lanterns, and strobe lights—only to be tackled by a very enthusiastic Jack Hughes in full Spider-Man gear.

“Y/N!” Jack yells, wrapping you in a bear hug and lifting you off the ground. “You made it!”

“Put me down, Spidey,” you laugh, squirming in his grip.

Jack grins under his mask but finally sets you down, brushing invisible dust off your costume. “What even are you supposed to be?” he asks, squinting at your outfit.

“I’m a vampire,” you say, flashing the plastic fangs you barely managed to keep in.

“Cute.” Jack winks, slinging an arm around your shoulder just as Nico Hischier—dressed as a very convincing pirate—walks up, giving both of you a fond, exasperated look.

The lounge is packed with players, staff, and their partners—everyone dressed to the nines in goofy, spooky, or downright ridiculous costumes. Luke Hughes stands by the snack table, inspecting a bowl of candy with the kind of concentration you usually only see him use on the ice. He’s rocking a cowboy hat, boots, and a vest that’s way too small for his frame.

Dawson Mercer, meanwhile, has gone all-in with a werewolf costume, complete with fluffy ears and a tail that keeps smacking people as he walks by.

“I swear to God, Dawson,” you mutter, swatting at the tail when it brushes your arm again. “Control that thing.”

“It has a mind of its own!” Dawson defends himself with a mischievous grin.

As the night progresses, the chaos only multiplies.

Nico keeps trying to convince everyone to join him for a game of beer pong, insisting that pirates have an unfair advantage because they’re “naturally gifted at throwing things.” You’re not entirely sure that’s historically accurate, but no one argues with him.

Jack somehow convinces half the team to start a limbo competition—using a hockey stick, of course. Luke crushes it, his height somehow not being a disadvantage for once, though he nearly trips over his boots at the end.

Dawson, in typical Dawson fashion, sneaks up behind you at one point with a fake severed hand, pressing it to your shoulder.

You jump and swat him again. “You’re asking for a punch, Mercer.”

“Worth it,” he laughs, scampering off before you can retaliate.

The highlight of the night is, without a doubt, the costume contest.

You watch as Nico steps onto the makeshift stage, adjusting his pirate hat dramatically. “Arr, mateys,” he says, clearly enjoying himself way too much. “Who dares challenge the captain?”

Jack boos from the crowd. “Your hat’s crooked, Captain Fraud!”

“At least I didn’t dress as Spider-Man for the third year in a row!” Nico fires back, making everyone roar with laughter.

Luke takes the stage next, tipping his cowboy hat. He pulls out a toy gun from his holster and blows on the barrel dramatically, earning a mix of cheers and teasing catcalls from the crowd.

When it’s your turn, the boys start cheering before you even reach the stage.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Jack chants, getting the whole room to join in.

You roll your eyes but strike a dramatic vampire pose, hissing playfully at the crowd. Nico, Jack, Luke, and Dawson lose it, clapping like you’ve just scored the winning goal in a playoff game.

“Best costume ever,” Dawson declares loudly, like a proud big brother.

After the contest wraps up (Nico wins because, as Jack puts it, “the pirate hat has plot armor”), the team settles into smaller groups, chatting and dancing to the Halloween playlist someone threw together.

Jack stays glued to your side for most of the night, making sure no one gives you too much grief—though he’s not above throwing in a little teasing himself. “You’re lucky you have us,” he jokes. “Otherwise, these guys would eat you alive.”

Nico walks by, overhearing. “We’re protecting you from them,” he says, tilting his head toward the crowd of rowdy teammates. “Not the other way around.”

You laugh, but you know it’s true. These boys are chaos incarnate, but they’re also fiercely protective. And if that means surviving a Halloween party filled with ridiculous costumes, bad jokes, and limbo competitions—well, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The night winds down with Jack flopping onto the couch beside you, half-asleep but still grinning like a kid. “You have fun, Y/N?”

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks for dragging me here.”

Jack gives your shoulder a gentle nudge. “Anytime, little sis.”

Nico, Luke, and Dawson join you shortly after, each collapsing into the nearest seat. The five of you sit there, surrounded by the aftermath of the party—empty cups, candy wrappers, and a whole lot of memories.

And as you glance around at your chaotic, overprotective teammates, you realize there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

[asianwhumpgalore]

My Merman Brother (我的鲛人弟弟) | Cdrama | Whump List

Genre: Historical, Mystery, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: Lin Weixu, the State Preceptor of the Qin Empire gained her authoritarian power after conquering Nanzhao Empire. One day, she ran into Fu Su, a merman captive who was tortured by the Supreme Court. Out of sympathy, she rescued the merman, and he became clingy to her. Thus unfolded a therapeutic and sweet journey.

Length: 24 eps

Whump meter: ▲▲◭△△  Whumpy things: Slave whumpee, sensitive whumpee, scared whumpee, punishment, captured, manhandling, erotic subtext

✨ Simple and cute. Merman ML ftw ���

⚠️Trigger Content: Usual historical content warnings. ⚠️⚠️Some SPOILERS might be found, proceed with caution ⚠️⚠️

Whumpee: Fu Su played by Shen Huai

00:00 | Running barefoot across the street, scratches and bruises on his body, crashes into someone and falls to the ground, net cast over him, struggling to free himself, kicked back onto the ground when he sits up, beaten, saved.

02:00 | Shoved onto the floor, grabbed by the face and forced to look up.

06:05 | (comedic) Fought, pinned to the ground, choked, (normal) cowers into corner, hugs self.

08:40 | Bites lip until it bleeds.

14:45 | Whipped, scolded.

17:35 | Locked in a cell, chained by the wrists to the wall, hugs self, mocked.

20:15 | Shoved onto the ground, accused of killing someone, kicked out.

22:05 | Leaning against a wall for support, collapses against the wall, panting, sweating, hugs self, stumbles away | Crashes into furniture, collapses against table, clutching chest, hunched over, concern for him, falls on the floor, labored breathing, helped to stand.

46:32 | Cuts palm of hand with a knife, bleeding.

50:55 | Imprisoned, hugs self.

55:55 | Bleeding lip.

56:35 | Punched.

01:01:45 | Head covered with a cloth, abducted (off screen) | Chained by the wrist to a cross, head covered with cloth.

01:03:35 | Chained once again by the wrists, arm cut, made to bleed onto a bowl, cut again, in pain.

01:10:44 | Still chained, found by lover, bloody, cuts on his body, coughing.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎

🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼

54 for 🍎:

---

“I thought you gave me up and you wouldn’t want to be around me anymore. I thought… I mean, I thought you’d be disappointed.”

Bobby’s eyebrows shoot up.

“No,” he says firmly. “Absolutely not. Not for a second.”

All the laughter in Buck dies at that. Does he really mean that? Is he sure? He’s historically been kind of a disappointment as a son. 

“I couldn’t really even let myself entertain the idea,” Bobby continues. “Knowing the year you were born, when you found out you were adopted… I had to convince myself there was no way, but… I quietly wished it were true, and now it is.”

Buck’s expression tightens. Hearing this bumps up against something in his brain that was so convinced of the opposite. 

“I, uh…” Buck struggles. “I used to tell people you were practically my dad. Even though I’d never have said it in front of you.”

Bobby smiles a little. “Yeah, Athena and May have been calling you my kid for years now, too. But, I… You know, it felt weird to say, given everything. They were right, though.”

Buck takes a sharp inhale of breath. 

“Really?” He asks quietly.

Bobby nods. “Maybe… Maybe somewhere, deep down, instincts or something… Maybe I did know. You have always been more than just an employee to me, Buck. You always mattered so much more than that.”

Buck exhales. “You fired me.”

Bobby laughs, eyes brimming with tears. “Hardly. And you sued me.”

Fuck. Right. Yeah, that’s way worse than firing someone. 

“Guess I, uh… Guess I had to pack a whole lot of angry teenage door slams into one punch.”

Bobby exhales another small breath of laughter. 

“Sorry,” Buck mutters, wiping his own eyes. “I’m still sorry I did that.”

“Well, I have a lot more to be sorry for,” Bobby says. 

Buck isn’t sure if that’s true, or if Bobby is just trying to punish himself. Though, he supposes, between the two of them, he knows the least. 

“Can we…” Buck whispers. He’s sort of scared to ask. “I mean, I know we can’t start from scratch, but…”

---

54 for 🤏🏼:

---

“What happened to my phone?” He asks as he emerges from the bedroom.

Eddie holds it up. Proof of technological life. 

“Buck!” The kid cheers, then bounces upright to go to him. In doing so, he knocks a bowl of microwave popcorn Eddie made for him twenty minutes or so ago, spilling a little onto the couch. 

The kid freezes, wide-eyed, and looks at Eddie.

“I’m sorry!” He blurts. “It was an accident.”

Eddie blinks, caught off guard by this reaction.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

“I’ll clean it up,” the kid offers.

“It’s like, seven pieces, max,” Eddie says. “It’s cool.”

Buck watches the interaction, brows furrowing. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve spilled stuff on Eddie’s couch?” Buck asks. “Well, yeah… You do, I guess.”

Eddie chuckles. “The chocolate ice cream incident?”

“That was your son!” Buck argues.

“And he says it was you…”

Eddie had left them alone with ice cream for two minutes. 

“I wouldn’t lie!” Buck laughs.

The kid takes a deep breath. 

“Okay,” he says. Then he turns, and starts collecting the spilled pieces of popcorn. Eddie feels a familiar wave of anxiety rise in him, watching it.

“Hey, I mean it,” Eddie says seriously. “It was an accident. It won’t leave a stain. We’re good.”

The child nods. 

“I’ll clean it up, okay?” Eddie says. “You just leave it.”

“Are you sure?” The kid asks in a small voice.

“Totally sure,” Eddie nods. 

“Come here, little guy,” Buck says, opening his arms to the child. “Did you have fun while I was napping?”

The child hurries over to give Buck a hug. Buck squeezes him fondly.

“We watched She-Ra,” the kid whispers.

“Very cool,” Buck says. “I remember when Chris loved that show. I watched it all to understand what he was talking about.”

“I know,” the kid reminds Buck. 

[othernonsense]

Here is where I stand with the Global Conflict this week (no one asked lmao)

1. The top priority for me is stopping the genocide in Gaza, and, immediately after that, establishing a Palestinian state/two state solution.

2. Hamas isn’t going to peddle any kind of solution/compromise. Hamas essentially took their “We want to kill Jews” treatise and replaced “Jews” with “Zionists” but nothing has changed. If you can’t see that, you’re dangerous and probably stupid.

3. The hostages need to be freed (if they’re still alive, which let’s be realistic, they probably aren’t.) If Netanyahu actually cared about freeing the hostages, he would have done it by now, and a large number of Israelis recognize that.

4. Recognition of the hostages/ October 7th and recognition of the genocide/ deeply awful conduct of Israel can and SHOULD coexist.

5. Joe Biden is a useless little bitch. Having him as President again would still be better than four more years of Trump.

6. The Met Gala was not orchestrated by Big Zionism to distract from the invasion of Rafah and saying that it was is just blatant antisemitism. That being said, the Israeli military does frequently carry out large strikes on nights like the Met Gala and the Super Bowl when they know that the American news cycle will be focused on something else. Both things can be true. Also, the Met Gala is inherently a stupid thing to get excited about I’m sorry.

7. Student protestors do often fall into traps of antisemitism and say shit that could potentially harm Jews. What else is going to happen, when you gather a bunch of 19 year olds and tell them to yell as loud as humanly possible? That being said, I do have to believe that a vast majority of college protestors have good intentions AND, most of all, even if they don’t, censoring them and spraying pepper spray in their eyes is draconian behavior that the history books will not look kindly upon.

8. I’m so on the fence about boycotts, especially Eurovision. Because on one hand, banning Palestinian flags and keffiyeh’s from the performance is wrong. And I don’t think that Israel should be allowed to compete considering everything that the government is doing, like Russia was banned in 2021. That being said, it does make me sad that this 19 year old girl wrote a song about losing friends and family on October 7th and in response, she’s been booed and told to stay in her hotel room lest the angry mob tears her apart.

9. I do think that celebrities have some level of responsibility to use their platforms for good. That being said, this is such a complex issue that I almost don’t fault some people for not making a 250 character Twitter statement. I don’t think the dying children of Gaza care much if you block Zendaya or Olivia Rodrigo on Instagram. It also gets ridiculous when you go in the comments section of creators with like 100k followers and you see people posting Palestinian flags like yeah I’m sorry that blorbo from my shows isn’t personally flying to Gaza to punch Netanyahu in the face.

10. If you punctuate every single acknowledgement of the genocide with “but what about the hostages!!” or GOD FORBID “it’s sad that Hamas made Netanyahu do this” you have been propagandized by your local Hillel. No one made Netanyahu do this except Netanyahu. There’s no way you don’t know that by now. Wiping out Hamas: another thing that Netanyahu probably would have done by now if he genuinely wanted to.

11. Whenever I see lists of “here are the celebrities/professors/writers/guy on the street to block and throw rocks at because he’s a Mean Scary Zionist” I am reminded of the lists of synagogue goers that Nazis used to track down Jews and their families during the Holocaust. Seriously if you’re peddling lists of “Zionists” ripe for demonization you might want to ask yourself what you’re REALLY doing, and why.

12. Fun fact about me: I actually consider myself a Zionist. I do think, historically speaking, that Jews do need a safe place and a homeland to prevent us from being killed again like we seem to be every few centuries or so. I just don’t think that place has to be Israel, and I DEFINITELY don’t think Palestine should be subjugated for it to happen. But whenever I hear “Zionism = BAD” I just cringe a bit because… you keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means

[onepiece-oc-archives]

is is ever mentioned when you're officially an adult in the one piece world? because Luffy sets sail at 17 and Koby joins the marines with 16, so perhaps you're considered an adult by that age? But according to Sabo you become a world noble at 18? (aren't you one either way if you're born into a noble family?) But then again, if Sabo wasn't (as some say) planned from the beginning, perhaps one should not place much value in this reasoning - idk. It rather feels like you're considered an adult at 16/17... since the other younger strawhats were also more or less on their own out their (or in Sanji's case having an actual job)... and then again there's Bonney who is 12 by the time she arrives in Sabaody with her own crew so... then there's that^^ (but she might be an expection since she usually looks like she's an adult)

Hi, thanks a lot for your question!

I don't think there's a set age for when you're an adult and in a lot of cases it probably doesn't really matter. Why? Because we're in a world of pirates and many children and teenagers have to learn how to fend for themselves early on, that's just the cruel reality. I'll try to give some ideas regarding the examples you gave and then name my headcanons for what I think the more "official" age limits might be.

First of all, I'd say Bonney is outright disqualified because of her devil fruit. One Piece doesn't really have a form of ID, so they can't check her age, but even if they could... you can't tell me Bonney wouldn't have a fake ID or get her way either way because she's a pirate.

Luffy setting sail at 17 is most likely because Ace sat sail at 17. Also, Luffy is Luffy, so he probably doesn't care about age limits.

I wouldn't say that Sanji having a job is really an issue here because cabin boys are common amongst pirates and so are kids helping out chefs in kitchens. Also, he begged for that job on his first ship and then got given the job by Zeff when they opened Baratie. They did open Baratie together, even though Sanji was a kid, so I can't see him not getting a job here. Who knows if he actually got paid either. I don't think we can apply our definition of what constitutes a job in this case.

Now with Sabo and Koby is where it gets interesting, so this is where I'm gonna get into my own headcanons.

I think the One Piece world might be working with similar age limits/requirements as we do here in Germany. That means you're legally considered of age when you're 18, but you already get to make some important legal decisions when you're 16, very rarely also as early as 14, usually with a legal guardian's approval.

Why do I think this is the case? Being of age with 18 lines up with what you said about Sabo and becoming a Celestial Dragon. Yes, you're born a Celestial Dragon but you probably only get the full privileges of one when you're of age - so, most likely 18. Koby joining the military 16 wouldn't work here in Germany, but it's only one year off and I'm pretty sure the bar used to be lower - which, One Piece takes place in a more historical-esque setting, so we can probably assume 16 would be the minimum age requirement. Especially with the Marines being this present in day-to-day life and supported by the Government.

Why did I say Germany instead of any other country with the same age limit? Well, on one hand because I live here, but also because of one specific reason: Alcohol. Usopp (at least in the live action) got completely wasted at Baratie and I'm pretty sure Baratie is a place that would check your ID if you wanted a drink (at least if it's running normally, not like when Koby and Helmeppo showed up). Usopp is 16 but he still managed to get wasted, most famously off that huge bowl of fruit punch or whatever that was. I'm very sure that that stuff would fall into the category of drinks you'd be allowed to get at 16 in Germany. Light alcohol like wine and beer at 16, hard stuff at 18. Some more hints towards it being like that in the One Piece world too are that Zoro and Nami had no problems getting rum, which is hard alcohol, and they're 19 and 18 respectively. Helmeppo was also easily able to order shots for himself and Koby and he's 20 at that time. What we can definitely be sure of is that the limit isn't 21.

Whatever the age requirements are, I believe that, while they would be universal for anything involving the Marines or the Government and probably be enforced too, in the realm of pirates they don't really matter. Like, as a bartender, are you really going to deny a pirate crew some vodka for their 14-year-old cabin boy? It's either you give alcohol to a kid and maybe pay a fine or you lose a limb - I think the answer is very clear. Different kingdoms could probably adjust the age requirements to their liking, but I don't think they could lower them too much. But I don't know, that's just speculation at this point.

All in all, being in adult in the world of One Piece probably depends a lot more on the respect people have for you and how independent you are than your age.

I hope these rambles helped at all - have a lovely day!

[lostcol]

9 Fandom Peeps to Get to Know Better:

thank you for the tag @eusuntgratie <3

3 ships I like: just 3?! if i must. the 3 i'm reading most right now are malex, payneland, and firstprince

first ship ever: i think the first one i took a stab at writing, literal decades ago and with very questionable results, was brooke and lucas from OTH

last song you heard: my client played that song from the spongebob beach episode for her kids this afternoon, so... that, unfortunately. last song i listened to on purpose was pink pony club

favorite childhood book: oof tough question. i read constantly, my sister and i weren't allowed any TV during the week growing up so we both read a ton. my favorite genre by far was historical fiction, so probably something in there. OH one book I read over and over in middle school was The Long Night by Diane Hoh, a novel set on the Titanic. I did an English project on it in 7th grade when we could pick literally any chapter book, I was mildly obsessed. Ooh I also read Dreadful Sorry and Time Windows (both by Kathryn Reiss) over and over. I still recommend all of them!

currently reading: mostly a lot of fic. Listening to The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt, and Never Have I Ever: Punched My Roommate's V-Card by Willow Dixon. I'm so sorry 😂

currently watching: at this very moment, rewatching Eureka for the umpteenth time (currently on s4). more generally, Roswell New Mexico and The Great British Benefits Handout on my own, and Welcome to Waikiki and What We Do In The Shadows with my roommate

currently consuming: diet peach iced tea, and about to have a bowl of chocolate frosted flakes

currently craving: a bowl of chocolate frosted flakes and sex

tagging: @winderlylandchime @madsworld15 @matriaya @theseshipsshallsail @haxprocess @maryp50 @thingsthatmatter @getmehighonmagic and anyone else! <3

[echoghost1]

Ecto-Implosion 2023

Title: The Portal Turns On

Total Word Count: 4,031

Total Chapters: 3

Characters: Jack Fenton, Danny Fenton, Maddie Fenton, Jazz Fenton

Tags: POV Jack Fenton, Good Parent Jack Fenton, The portal accident, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jack is there for The Portal Accident

Summary: When the Portal fails Jack and Maddie can't find it in themselves to do much of anything.

After a few weeks, Jack decides to follow his son into the lab and try again. He already failed, it's not like it could be worse.

AKA Jack is there for Danny's accident AU

Art by Fern315/@friendzoned61

You can read the fic on AO3

or the first chapter of the down below the cut

[you're here] | ch. 2 | ch. 3

Jack was so excited he could barely keep still. Today was the day. It was finally here!

Everything he and Maddie had been working on for the last twenty years was finally coming to a head.

He almost plugged it in the second Maddie said she was finished with her calibrations but then he remembered the kids.

This was going to be the biggest thing ever! This was historic! They couldn’t miss this!

“I’m gonna get the kids!” Jack said in a rush before he bounded up the stairs two at a time.

He swung open the door and found his son standing in the kitchen doorway with a bowl of chips. A few chips were on the floor around his feet for some reason.

“Just the son I was looking for!”

“What?” Danny said as he dusted a few crumbs off his shirt.

“Where’s your sister?”

“Upstairs, I think.”

“Great!” Jack said before he ran over to the other staircase and shouted up for his most favorite, and only, daughter, “Jazz! Come down here quick!”

Jazz popped her head around the corner, “what is it?”

“Come on! Come on!” Jack urged and then walked back towards the basement.

He took the bowl of chips from Danny’s hand and tossed it on the coffee table, “you won’t be needing these.”

“I was eating those,” Danny said his hand reaching out towards his snack.

“You can have it later. This is much more important.” Jack said as he started down the stairs.

“More important than food? I guess this is big.” Danny said and then he followed behind Jack.

Once he was at the bottom of the stairs, Jack turned around to face his audience. His kids.

“Today, you two will witness history!”

The reactions he got were mostly confusion, but that was fine. Everything would make sense soon enough.

“As you know, we’ve been working on this project for years. We’ve been working on this since before either of you were born. Way back in our college days!”

Danny looked over to the framework and then back to Jack, “you finished it?”

“You betcha!” Jack said with a grin a mile wide.

“I hate to ask, but what’s it supposed to do?” Jazz asked with her arms crossed and doubt written all over her face.

It was a little disheartening to have such a skeptic for a daughter but, he’d make a believer out of her yet.

This was just the thing to do it.

“We’re going to punch a hole from our world straight to the world of the dead!” Jack explained, punching his open palm for emphasis.

“That way, we’ll have constant access to the spectral dimension. We can gather samples, full specimens, and more data than we’ve ever been able to gather in all of our research to date!” Maddie added.

“So true, honey,” Jack said with a grin. She always had so many good ideas.

“You’re going to rip a hole in reality?” Jazz clarified.

“Yup-arooni!”

“Okay then.” she said with an eye roll, “I’m going to stay on the stairs.”

“You sure you don’t want to be closer to the action?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, very sure.”

“How close can we get?” Danny asked.

“That’s the spirit!” Jack said with a supportive slap on the back.

Which may have been a bit too strong given Danny stumbled forward a few steps.

Jack turned back to Maddie, “So where’s the cord? Can I do the honors?”

“Of course sweetheart!” Maddie said and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before handing over the two cords.

Jack wasted no time and jammed the two cords together.

He watched the portal spark to life and then…

Nothing.

That wasn’t right.

He squeezed the two ends together a little tighter. Maybe they didn’t connect all the way.

Still nothing.

He looked at his wife.

She looked just as confused as he felt.

She held out her hands for the cords and he handed them over.

She unplugged it and plugged it in again.

It didn’t change anything.

She dropped the cords and quickly walked over to the board with their notes.

She read over them, looked to the panel, and looked back at the notes.

“I don’t understand. It should have worked.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I know why it didn’t work.” Jazz said with her arms crossed on the stairwell.

“You do?” Jack asked, hopeful that his daughter was able to see where they went wrong. Hopeful that it was something silly that they overlooked in their eagerness to start.

“It didn’t work because ghosts aren’t real. They never were.”

Jack’s shoulders sank.

“Come on, Jazz. There’s no need to be mean.”

“I’m not being mean! I’m being realistic! Maybe they’ll finally get out of this fantasy that they’ve buried themselves in and actually work on something real!” She said before storming off out of the basement and out of sight.

Jack sighed unsure of what to do with himself. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been told something like that, but somehow it was worse this time.

Maddie was getting upset. He knew even before she slammed her fists on the table.

It wouldn’t do her any good to stay down here.

Maybe they should just walk away.

Maybe Jazz had a point.

Jack walked over to Maddie and gently walked her away from the workbench. “Come on hon, let’s go.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Danny asked. It was hard to tell if he was more confused or worried.

“We just need to get out of here for a little bit.”

“So you’re coming back later?”

Jack didn’t know how to answer that.

Normally he’d say yes.

Normally there was no question.

Right now didn’t feel normal.

It hardly felt real.

“You know I still believe you right?”

Jack gave his son a smile. Or at least he tried to.

He gave him a pat on the shoulder and then walked upstairs with Maddie.

They just needed some time away from the lab is all.

[alister312]

i feel like i haven’t made a gregstophe thing in while…. losing my gregstophe cred so here’s some hobby headcanons!!

Gregory is definitely a journaler. He started some time in elementary or middle school with the hopes of leaving behind a fantastic historical record but as he grew up, he realized that was a bit unrealistic. He kept the habit though, as it’s a good way to relax and keep his mind sharp. Usually he uses very nice leather-bound notebooks because he likes the aesthetic and how they look on the shelf when he’s filled them. Sometimes he’ll go and read them, especially if he needs a pick me up and wants a good memory. At one point he considered turning them into a memoir but realized that a lot of stuff he’d written about him doing was illegal or would put him under a lot of scrutiny (revolutionary life) so the journals are just for him.

While Gregory likes the idea of pets in theory, I don’t think he’s huge fan of the mess they end up making everywhere (he’s already got one creature in his house making things messy, he really can’t handle a second one lol). However, because of that, he’d be really drawn to fish! He’d have a huge tank with all sorts of plants floating on top, lots of colorful fish, a complex filtration system, etc. If/When he and Christophe get a house, he’d really push for a koi pond just so he has more fish to look after. Christophe agrees because he thinks Gregory’s fish are cool even though he doesn’t understand why they can’t just live in a bowl and be given fish flakes.

He tries hard to pretend he isn’t, but Gregory is definitely into rich upperclass people sports like like pickleball and golf. He grew up playing them with his family so there’s a bit of nostalgia involved in it. Christophe teases Gregory whenever he tries to casually suggest that they go play for a little bit, just for fun. Usually Gregory has to convince someone else to go with him (often Tolkien who has a similar nostalgia-based interest in playing).

Christophe is really into gardening and plant care (shocker lol). When he was a kid he got yelled at a lot for digging up the yard, so he would replant stuff to try and make the lectures just a bit less intense. It was also a good excuse as to why he was coming in covered with dirt or why there was dirt all over his floor. Eventually he started doing it because he liked it, not just for the excuse. Sometimes he tries crossbreeding plants but mostly he just grows them as they are.

While Christophe would never go to a regular gym, he does go to a boxing gym. He wants to keep himself in good fighting conditions for obvious mercenary reasons and he feels like just having a real sparring partner is much better than a punching bag. It’s one of the few places where he’s got a number of people he’s friendly with since he’s literally required to interact with people. Despite that, Christophe kind of latches onto the few people he found he liked at the beginning (like Tweek).

From whittling to sculpting, Christophe really likes making things with his hands. Initially it was something to pass the time like when sitting around with a knife so he picks up a stick, or finding clay while digging and making a little thing. He also likes putting together random bits of trash he has. Gregory keeps close track of his paper clips because there’s a good chance if Christophe sees them lying around he will twist them into something else, rendering them unusable. He displays all the mangled paper clip creations on his desk though, as well as other things Christophe makes because he thinks they’re nice.

[transthadymacdermot]

What kind of alcohol do the peasants drink? Is there a variety of types? How young do kids start drinking recreationally?

Okay so this is more of a historical question than a story question but I will try to keep this as writing-related as possible

The peasants typically drink poitín or poteen, a type of illegal (specifically illegal. it's not poitín if it's legal) Irish alcohol made in small pot stills in isolated locations to hide from the authorities. Good fictional depictions of what it is/how it was made/its role in society in the time period that my writing takes place can be found in the book The MacDermots of Ballycloran by Anthony Trollope, or in the early parts of the film Arracht, and the best nonfiction discussion of the role it played in society (and in sectarian conflict) in Ulster in the late 18thc I've found thus far is in the book The Men of No Property by Jim Smyth, in the very early chapters. Read one of those if you want more detail but for now I'll say that it's just generally illegal alcohol of dubious quality -- it might help usamerican followers to think of it as being like if moonshine was Irish (down to the "don't drink that you'll go blind 😡" stuff). And that there are Game of Thrones levels of machinations going on between rival distillers in $the background of the story (as there were with real poteen makers), but the only indication of it in the text is a couple of throwaway comments from Maguire

They pretty exclusively stick to poteen. You might say that there are different types because it... varies in quality depending on who made it and how willing the person drinking it is to drink the shadiest liquid ever produced out of desperation. Also since there isn't really a formal recipe due to the whole illegality thing it's possible that the ingredients vary but the characters don't really make the distinction

I'll admit that I'm not really sure because I've not read a lot of academic writing about recreational drinking amount Irish peasants at the time 😔 but from the general impression I have of society at the time I'd say quite young, maybe mid teens. Don't quote me on that though because it doesn't have much bearing on the story so I haven't done a terrible amount of research on it

EDIT: OH AND I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOR THIS they also drink punch. This is more expensive than poitín due to the ingredients and so they generally only drink it on special occasions (like at a wedding that occurs near the beginning, or when they blow up a bridge and want to celebrate). They also get drunker off it because u can just dip your cup right in the communal punch bowl and therefore it's harder to gauge how much you've had (this is something real that various people in the late 18thc complained about wrt punch drinking apparently lmao). Also there's a few times where the drinking of legal whiskey is mentioned because there was a tradition at the time where when the poorest tenants actually paid their rent for once the landlord would be expected to give them a glass to celebrate, to the point where everybody would get really mad if this all-important ritual was not performed. Thank you Maria Edgeworth for teaching me this 🔥

[ace-marvel]

Anachronism (Teaser)

(This is based off an idea or prompt by @black-cat-2 and it got stuck in my head and I couldn't not write it. This is their idea completely, I just wanted to get what was in my head on paper after I read their post. It's just the beginning, if people don't like it, I won't keep writing it. I also have not edited this.)

Ananchronism: used to describe a historical inaccuracy where something from one time period is placed in another.

You had never been normal. 

In this day and age, sub-genders were nothing more than an additional label that went on your drivers license or something to be noted by an employer. You had presented as an omega when you’d hit puberty, like all the other people your age. It was a blood test done by the doctors to check, each sub-gender produced a certain enzyme that was checked when a woman got their first period and or a man started to grow hair on his chest. 

Your results had been odd, your early teenage years spent in and out of doctor’s offices as they poked and prodded with needles and endless tests to find out why your levels had been so strange. It was something more commonly seen in the early 1900s when sub-genders had been such a big deal. 

“She’s a genetic anomaly,” A doctor had finally chalked it up, after looking at your records when you were fifteen. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your mother was an alpha, which meant that she took charge, a stubborn and proud lady in her own right. 

“Look, it’s a rare thing we’re seeing in very cases,” The old doctor huffed out. “Her sub-gender appears to not be suppressed, like evolution skipped her for whatever reason it decided to.” 

That was the end of the poking and prodding. 

You just weren’t normal. 

A genetic anomaly. 

Adjusting was horrid for your family, from the need to steal all the soft blankets, much to your mother’s dismay or your father’s disappointment, when you needed to skip school again because you had fevers and cramps from an ancient thing called a heat. After a year of missing almost two months of school, the doctor had put you on suppressants. 

Things still didn’t get better from there. 

Society was rough. 

Equality meant you had to work, despite everything in your brain and body screaming at you not to. You shouldn’t be standing on your feet for hours on end at the coffee shop you worked part-time at as a teenager, you shouldn’t have to get up at ungodly hours to study for tests and sit in a room full of people that seemed like dead bodies. 

You were sensitive, soft, and not made for this time. 

Becoming an adult was hard; moving out of home had you in tears, and finally diagnosed with depression. But you had to trudge on in this harsh world, alone. 

The only saving grace had been a woman who owned a bakery down the street, who had hired you after you’d come in one day craving something sweet before your heat decided to strike. 

It turned out that Elise was like you, a genetic anomaly. She wasn’t an olden day omega like you were, but she had heightened senses and strangely strong despite her small stature. You’d seen her lift three massive bags of flour like she’d been carrying a little pillow. 

“You look exhausted hun, have a seat for a little bit,” Elise had called from where she was punching a bowl of dough, flour smeared on her face as she smiled. 

“That would make me lazy..,” You mumbled under your breath, despite your whole body screaming at you to stop, “I’ll go clean a little..,” 

Elise didn’t argue, you always pushed your own limits even if your whole body screamed at you day in and day out. Grabbing the cloth and spray, you made your way over to the tables and began to wipe them down as the shop door opened. 

Usually the smell of cupcakes, baked bread and sweet treats covered up the many unpleasant smells of the people around you, but something stuck out today. It was a musky scent, mixed with pine and the odd edge of something cold, like ice. You could always tell what someone’s sub-gender was based on smell alone, you avoided alphas at all costs because that was what felt right to you. 

But this scent was so strong it made your stomach drop, hands suddenly holding onto the table as you took in the smell. It smelt right, so delicious and soothing that it called to something deep in your chest and awakened your every instinct. You wanted to be surrounded by it, pulled into its embrace and just left to soak in who ever the hell this person was 

You finally managed to turn around on wobbly legs, your throat dry as you looked at the people who had walked in. Steve and Sam were regulars; hell, the whole Avengers and their superhero companions were. You were close to the tower after all, when they needed to stay in the city, they always dropped by the bakery to stock up on the baked goods. Elise had tried to push you towards Steve at one time, but you’d avoided the super soldier and he was just as awkward about your boss and best friend’s strange match making habits. 

But there was a third person with them today, he was bigger than Steve but held an aura that was distinctly alpha about him. The way your hair stood on end made you just know, he was an alpha in every sense of the word. 

He had the most stunning blue eyes, dark locks pulled under a cap and a red henley covering most of his body. His beard was short but neat, no doubt hiding a strong jaw line. But the thing that stood out was the black and gold metal arm on his left side, as he kept his arms holded over his chest. 

And he was staring straight at you, eyes blown wide and nostrils flaring slightly. 

“Hun, you okay?” Elise spoke as she turned around the counter, walking to your side, “You’re a bit flushed,” 

Elise’s hand touched your forehead and the coldness made you whimper, the noise coming out strangled before she flinched backwards and frowned. There was a slight scuffle from the other side of the room, only your ears were ringing and everything was becoming fuzzy. 

“You’re burning up,” Elise tutted, “I’ll call a cab, you get yourself home,” 

– 

Bucky found dating hard. 

He wasn’t built for this century, something that Steve shared his sympathy with but he had at the very least found an omega for himself. In his day, dating was for marriage and nowadays it seemed to be for a quick fuck to get your rocks off. Bucky was considered a playboy in the 40s, he’d dated a few omegas and maybe helped a few during their heats, but he’d always been motivated to take care of someone, provide for them, and give them anything they wanted. 

A lot had changed in all his years as Hydra’s perfect soldier. 

The serum amplified everything. Steve had the same issues sometimes, too. Bucky was already considered a strong alpha in his time with high instincts, but it had only gotten worse since they’d pumped him full of that blue serum. His ruts came more often, Hydra had either pumped him full of suppressants or thrown a random woman for him to take the edge off with. He was more aggressive and more protective. 

Omegas didn’t need knots anymore, they didn’t pick up on scents or could tell when his own turned sour when they threw themselves at him. Bucky wasn’t a fan of the big lips or fake tits, he wanted something natural. 

Someone natural to him. 

“She ran away from you?” Sam asked as Bucky sat awkwardly in the backseat of Steve’s car, grumbling to himself, “Damn,” 

“I scared her, okay?” Bucky stated, not wanting to think of his latest, horrible date, “That’s all,” 

“You’ll find someone who's not scared, okay?” Steve spoke up, “It’ll take a while,” 

Maybe if he didn’t die of blue balls first. 

Steve pulled up next to a little shop and Bucky looked out the window, confused. They were supposed to be going back to the tower, yet Sam and Steve had raved on about some bakery that they had to stop at or both Thor and Nat would have their heads. 

“It doesn’t look special,” Bucky remarked as he climbed out of the car, stretching his legs and groaning. 

Some how Sam always got the front seat to the car, despite Bucky being almost twice his size. 

“I’m telling you, man, this place is magical or something,” Sam went on as they walked to the front door, “We all come here whenever we’re in the city or do an order to get delivered out to us, the food is amazing,” 

Bucky was still learning to appreciate food, he’d spent so long only eating for survival, he forgot how to enjoy it. 

The bakery smelt like a bakery, bread and a slight sweetness to the air. Only all those scents seemed to fade away when he stepped inside behind Steve and Sam, his head whipping to a woman who was wiping down the wooden tables. 

A distinct smell of plums and sugar filled his senses, mixed with a slight edge of something warm that he couldn’t but his finger on. This scent was so homey and delicious, it made his mouth water and something twist in his chest, a low rumble he hadn’t felt in almost a century awakening to life. 

This woman finally turned around and it clicked in Bucky’s head and chest, he knew exactly what you were to him. The feeling had been told to him time and time again by his parents, his sister when she’d met her mate and his old army buddies. 

You were his mate. 

But an edge hit the scent and it almost made Bucky drop to his knees, the sweetness of an incoming omega heat, of his omega’s heat. Steve seemed to shift too, looking at you before he looked at Bucky as he heard the growl that left the man’s chest. 

“Buck?” 

Then there was the noise, that little noise that seemed to shoot through his ears and bounce around his brain. It was a cry for help and he needed to respond to it, surging forward only for Steve and Sam to both grab him. 

“Bucky! Calm down!” Steve yelled out as they barely managed to wrestle him out the door and tackle him into the concrete footpath of New York City. 

The fresh air seemed to jolt him back to reality, pushing both the men off himself as Steve held his hands out, waiting to be attacked. 

“You good?” Sam questioned, panting, “Man, you super soldiers need to calm the fuck down sometimes,” 

“Buck, you growled,” Steve questioned, “What was that?” 

“Her..,” Bucky barely managed to grunt out. “It’s her, Steve,” 

The blonde super solider look back at the bakery before looking at his best friend, bewildered. Bucky stood up, smoothing a hand through his hair before he suddenly the punched the concrete wall beside them. The surge of alpha hormones pumping in his blood was putting him on edge. 

“Can we not destroy public property?!” Sam yelled.

[thethirdromana]

This threw me back on Ransome, who seemed the least wicked of that gang, and who soon came out of the inn and ran to me, crying for a bowl of punch. I told him I would give him no such thing, for neither he nor I was of an age for such indulgences.

You think you're reading a fun historical coming-of-age romp, and then all of a sudden you're down a google rabbit hole that has you reading someone's history thesis from 1994.

This paragraph took me by surprise, because I wasn't aware that there were any laws against children drinking alcohol either in 1751, when the novel is set, or even in 1886, when it was published.

Frustratingly, I haven't been able to fact-check this. From 1901, children under 14 were prohibited from buying alcohol from a pub unless it was in a sealed container to take away (implicitly, for their parents, though some children certainly then unsealed the container and drank it), but what the law was before then, I haven't been able to find out. This article suggests that there were some restrictions, but not what they were.

What particularly struck me is that Davie is seventeen - the average Scottish seventeen year old is happy to drink punch (i.e. a mixed drink with spirits) in the modern day, so I was startled to see Davie being more cautious about strong drink in the 1750s.

I think this is probably because of the context of the novel being written at a time when alcohol consumption by children, particularly of spirits (as compared with the beer that Davie opts for), was a significant concern. I'd guess RLS is trying to encourage good habits in his younger readers, hoping that they might imitate Davie and not the hard-drinking Ransome.

[florallychaotic]

Breaking News: The "Zombie by the Cranberries song is about The Troubles and not a Halloween song" guy and the "What, do you not find the events of The Troubles and the historical context that lead to it horrifying?" guy have been found making out over the punch bowl at the Halloween party

[misstealady]

Tea leaves in glass bottle, collected on the shore of Dorchester Neck the morning of Dec. 17, 1773.Collection Massachusetts Historical Society

The Boston Tea Party turns 250

(T) "Tradesmen's Protest Against the Proceedings of the Merchants Relative to the New Importation of Tea," Nov. 3, 1773.Collection Massachusetts Historical Society

(M) Edes family Tea Party punch bowl, circa 1770.Collection Massachusetts Historical Society

(B) Phillis Wheatley, "Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral," 1773.Collection Massachusetts Historical Society