and through a winter storm to get there

25 DAYS OF FIC RECS

Grab some hot coco, settle in by a fire, and get ready for 25 DAYS OF FIC REC DELIGHTS!

Every day through December 25th, this post will be updated with an underappreciated Harry & Louis fic - daily treats to help keep the season bright. 

Settle in and enjoy FICMAS!!

December 25

Take My Breath Away by @realitybetterthanfiction (153k, chaptered, fluff/angst)

December 24

Run Like the Devil by @churchrat (138k, chaptered, supernatural/angst)

December 23

Like the Stars That Shined by @idareyoutotakealook (12k, one shot, growing up/friends to lovers)

December 22

Sparks by @shipsdrift (10k, one shot, space/sci-fi)

December 21

Wish I Knew How To Break This Spell by @eleadore (6k, one shot, friends to lovers)

December 20

Cameras Flashing by @juliusschmidt (81k, chaptered, ABO)

December 19

Anyplace, Anyhow, Anytime by @fille-lioncelle (90k, chaptered, dimension travel)

December 18

Fixated on One Star by @alivingfire (52k, one shot, space au)

December 17

All the Small Things by @kitundercover (20k, one shot, uni and fluff)

December 16

We’ll Cast Some Light (You’ll Be Alright) by @fondleeds (74k, chaptered, enemies to lovers)

December 15

Never Too Late by @dimpled-halo (18k, one shot, friends to lovers)

December 14

Take Me To Your Heart by @waytoomanypeopleintheaddisonlee (6k, one shot, fluff and smut)

December 13

Just Tell Me the Song and I’ll Sing It by @myownsparknow (39k, chaptered, uni)

December 12

Come and Get Your Love by @otfourever (8k, one shot, famous/not famous)

December 11

Kiss Me on the Mouth (and Set Me Free) by @tempolarriefix (47k, one shot, fake relationship)

Through the Wire by @a-writerwrites (10k, one shot, ABO)

A Prayer for Which No Words Exist by @cleminism (34k, chaptered, angst)

December 8

Rated R by @cherrystreet (7k, one shot, holiday)

December 7

Seeing that Sunlight Hit Your Eyes by @thecoloursneverfade (18k, one shot, uni fluff)

December 6

Home for Christmas by @haloeverlasting (22k, one shot, holiday)

December 5

Little Technicolor Things by @wordsbyjm (72k, chaptered, angst)

December 4

A Little Love (is Better Than None) by @xabjectlessonsx (15k, one shot, canon)

December 3

Pass the Cranberry by @canonlarry (3k, one shot, holiday PWP)

December 2

Resurface with You by @darkerwings (5k, one shot, canon/Harry’s hair)

December 1

A Building Storm by @outofcases (96k, chaptered, angst)

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#becausecanada ❄️❄️🏊❄️❄️
-
From @cbcnews :
A swim team in B.C. stepped out of the pool and dove straight into a snow-filled football field on Burnaby Mountain this week.

Members of the Simon Fraser University swim team backstroked through the snow in their swimsuits as part of a #snowswimchallenge.

B.C. is experiencing an honest-to-goodness Canadian winter. It’s expected to get worse before it gets better.

An intense Pacific storm is forecasted to batter Metro Vancouver and the rest of the South Coast region late Thursday with a significant amount of snow. #CBCnews #winter #BCstorm #yvr

Made with Instagram

in between snow storms.   Two, maybe three nor'easters due, all within three days.  That’s New England winter.  I’ve got a 2002 Doge Ram 1500 with a plow, no brakes, and intermittent windshield wipers.  I’m ready.

                             that hazy full moon -

                              it’s all about me

.                              . .    my wife laughs in the window

Weather reports mean nothing to me.  At my age, I can feel it in my bones.  We’ve got a good 18 inches coming our way.   I’ve stashed a flask - scotch- in the truck, and I’ll get through it.

                          Mt. Tom

                          through a veil

                         -  a white wedding

A guitar riff.  Good and solid.  One painted lily spoils it all.  The moon, waning and promising…I wish I could play. 

                         almost there…

                         the way has always been clear

                       …  going home

Hurricane - A Nessian Fic

thank you to @sarahviehmann for betaing and cheerleading me through this :)  prompted by anonymous, sorry it took a while but I wanted to really try and do it justice! 

Title: Hurricane 

Length: 7,700 

Summary: Nesta and Cassian post ACOMAF oneshot. Nesta comes to Cassian after the events in Hybern. The two of them release their frustration over being broken and Made and find an understanding between them neither anticipated and a connection that alters their lives even further. 

Links: AO3 

“Still sulking?”

His spine stiffens. At first it’s merely at the sound of her voice, cool as the mountain winds he misses streaming through his wings, sharp as a winter storm. That voice gets his back up even before he registers the mocking tone and the sardonic words.

Then he sees her. Nesta. Lounging against the balcony door with an ease that might suggests she owns this entire house and everything in it – including him.

The sight of her, the sound of her voice, her words dripping contempt, punch through the numb walls he’s surrounded himself with since he lost his wings with such startling swiftness and brutality that that’s all it takes to get his blood boiling.

A thick, rippling growl builds in his chest, loosed in a vicious burst towards her like roiling thunder. He’s seen battle hardened warriors on blood-soaked killing fields pale and flee from him at the sound. She barely even deigns to blink coolly at him as she strides out onto the balcony. She actually has the bald nerve and gall to approach him after that snarl had made it perfectly clear he wasn’t in the mood for her company.

She still looks like her. She’s still veiled in that icy beauty that called so sweetly to the fire in his heart, threatening to tame it; daring him to challenge it. But the Cauldron has sharpened her features, hollowing her cheeks, sculpting her fine lips, refining the lines of her face making her at once more elegant and striking but somehow also more terrible, and dangerous, and wild.

It’s a face to make men pause – especially with those eyes burning with blue fire and glittering with silver steel – honed to an edge even Az would covet – a face to make men tremble if they have a scrap of sense about them. Cassian never has.

So he faces her boldly as she approaches him, contemptuous grace in every movement, a predator at her core. She’s a panther draped in silk, a huntress of a different sort than her sister but just as deadly if not more so. She’s the knife in the shadows, the poison in the chalice, the end that comes without ever being seen.

If he ever somehow forgot her face, Cassian thinks as she stalks to stand by him at the stone balcony rail, he would never forget the way she moved. Not in a thousand immortal lifetimes could he forget that.

She moves like a storm given substance, holds herself like a queen among mice, a god among peasants – as though this world and everything in it, all its history and power and potential, the things it’s contained, the miracles it’s seen made flesh are beneath her, unworthy of her notice.

Her eyes rake up and down his body with a sharpness that cuts, weighing, calculating, judging, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on his tattered wings than anywhere else.

“Mor says you haven’t left this room in three days,” she announces, tearing her piercing gaze away from him the moment she opens her mouth to speak to him, her words frosted with apparent indifference, “You haven’t eaten. Barely slept…” she trails off delicately, examining her nails.

He couldn’t sleep. Not without reliving it over and over and over again. His wings shredded into bloody ribbons by that burst of power. The agony. The heat of the blood against his skin. The tang of it against his tongue. The bile rising in his throat. The panic constricting his chest and ripping the air from his lungs. His wings. His wings. His wings. Every time he woke in a cold sweat, panting and gripping the sheets to try and anchor himself to reality. A reality that was every bit as cruel as the nightmare he’d just torn himself from and offered him no comfort or respite from his torment.

But the rare occasions when he didn’t have that nightmare were worse. On those nights he flew through the wild, unforgiving mountains he had learned to tame centuries ago. Alive with the rush of air whipping past him, the call of the wind humming in his veins, and the taste of freedom gilding his tongue as he roared his defiance at the world that had tried and failed at every turn to chain him to its will.

Then he woke sobbing and alone in the blackness of the night; that exhilaration snuffed out like a candle by a thoughtless gust, leaving him blind and staggering and empty once more. He groped in the dark for his wings and felt the broken truth at his back and his soul howled its grief and devastation that he might never fly through those peaks again; might never soar into the arms of the waiting heavens as he was made to.

But he can’t tell her that. Can’t even begin to explain it to her, what this loss feels like for him, for an Illyrian male to lose his wings, to be grounded, what it means, the weight of what he’s lost. So instead he finds an easy smirk to toss in her direction – the kind he knows from experience will infuriate every inch of her new immortal being and says with idle arrogance, “Concerned for me, Nesta?”  

The look she gives him radiates such contempt that he can practically hear the disdainful word she sneers at him even though she never gives voice to it, please, before she says, picking at her nails in a show of unconcern that’s as tailored to his temper as his smirk was to hers, “Bored.” She says with a lazy shrug then cuts a glance in his direction as she adds, tone darkening like thunderheads gathering to blacken a bright blue sky, “And I thought might have something better to do with your time than brood over how hard done to you are, what with the war that’s coming.”

A harsh snarl erupts from him at her presumption, her insinuation, the knife she may as well have thrust between his ribs, plunging straight into the heart of him.

He advances a step towards her, wings barking in agony as they instinctively flare, a stark reminder of the loss he faces, the thing she’s trivialising with such brash arrogance.

Nothing without those wings. Nothing.

As before she barely shows any reaction to the fury she’s inspired in him and holds her ground with the same kind of serene indifference a deaf god might show the plight of an ant. Some part of him flickers, reluctantly impressed by her courage and resilience but it’s buried deep beneath the layers of raw, unbridled anger that fill his empty being – so long devoid of anything that centuries of hard training are as nothing to, forgotten in the face of her, in the way she reaches into him and rips at the most vulnerable parts of his self with cut-throat efficiency.

But Nesta, Cauldron damn her, just presses on cool and matter-of-fact, “I don’t really see what you’re complaining about myself.” He frowns down at her, expression dark as the corrupt hearts that plague the Court of Nightmares as she informs him evenly, “I’ve never been able to fly – it didn’t do me any great harm.”

Cassian has been interrogated by hardened, seasoned battle commanders with hours of time and centuries of experience at their disposal and not one of them even came close to getting this deeply rooted under his skin as this woman – barely old enough to be considered one, even as a human – has done in the space of a few minutes with a handful of icy, calculated sentences.

She knows just where to hit, exactly what weaknesses to exploit to bait a reaction out of him and the look in her glittering, unyielding eyes tells him she knows it. Damn her she knows.

He steps up to her, towering over her even in her new Fae body and she just leans in to him, arrogant, unflinching pride radiating from every inch of her.

“But if you could have flown,” he growls in her face, his barely controlled anger pulsing through every syllable and the way she glares at him, the way she gets right back in his face tells him she relishes every breath of it, “And then one day they took your wings from you and chained you to the ground and stripped you of every bit of freedom and independence I know you crave-“

Her face tightens into a soundless snarl at those words, that daring I know you, and he smiles so slowly, savouring the taste of her weak spot and he presses his advantage, digging his fingers into the cracks he’s made in that gloriously indifferent armour of ice and steel she’s encased herself in, prising them open wider.

“It would have done you harm then,” he breathes with all the arrogant certainty he can muster, “It would have driven you mad-“

“Don’t talk about me like you understand me,” she snaps, that fire flaring as her mask of ice shatters.

A broad, lazy grin spreads across his face. There you are some deep, instinctual part of him purrs to her – the being she truly is, that burning seething wildfire trapped in this immortal prison by the Cauldron’s cruel will.

“Oh but I do,” he murmurs to her, taking another step towards her as those feral eyes dare to him to do, “I do. You can try and hide behind your mask and your finery and your contempt all you like but I see you. I see you, Nesta Archeron,” rage has transformed those cold, sculpted features into those of a snarling hellcat, “You are a wild beast in skin that they have caged and tried to tame your entire life but all you want to do is roar,” he lets his smile widen, eyes dancing as he adds, “Like me.”

“I am nothing like you,” she hurls at him, voice surging with the same promise of violence and destruction as a roaring hurricane. But it shifts and becomes sharp and precise as a razorblade when she hisses viciously, “Wasting away up here and feeling sorry for yourself – you’re pathetic,” she snarls at him, venom dripping from every word.

He watches as those walls lock into place around her again, afraid she’d somehow gotten in too deep so now she shoves him out with every bit of her considerable strength and will no matter how ruthless she needs to be to do it.

“One little set back and you’ve given up,” she sneers.  

Set back? Set back?

Nothing without those wings.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he rumbles, lethal warning pulsing from every word.

That smirk; that damned smirk snaps right back onto her lips beneath her flashing storm-tossed eyes because she knows she’s won. She knows that she’s managed to get his hackles up and has barely even broken a sweat in doing so. She knows that he’s on the defensive again and that’s exactly where she wants him to be.

“No?” she mocks, arching an elegant eyebrow at him. Her voice hardens once more into that line of frigid steel when she grinds out, “The way I see it shit happens and you deal with it.” She tosses a look loaded with contempt at him as she crosses her arms over her chest with a snide sneer, “Or you don’t,” she says, her eyes flickering pointedly to his ragged wings again.

“You have no idea what I’m dealing with,” he spits at her.

Nothing without those wings. Nothing without those wings. Nothing without those wings.

He doesn’t care that he’s making this easy for her. He doesn’t care that she’s somehow slipped beneath his skin and is digging deeper and deeper into him with every word. He doesn’t care about the thick, smothering tension that’s getting tauter between them with every second, pulling the air from their lungs and the sense from their selves and making it more and more likely that one of them is going to do something incredibly stupid if it isn’t eased soon.

All he cares about is the challenge in her eyes and the way his blood roars at him to rise to it.

Her eyes narrow and lightning flashes in them as she straightens her spine and stares him down with something terrible burning in her blood as her mouth twists itself into a wordless snarl. And though he stands almost a clear foot taller than her, the rage that gathers from very part of her could make him tremble like nothing he’s seen in over five centuries of war and battle and bloodshed could do – such anger – anger that could level worlds and bring deities to their knees is all directed at him as she moves in so close that in a shiver he could touch her.

“No?” she whispers, words shaking with barely controlled fury, fury she’s trying so hard to leash to herself but with little success, “I have no idea? I have no idea?” she repeats, throwing his words back at him.

Her eyes are now glowing slits in her face and he realises then, realises that this is bigger than him and the sharp words they’ve been tossing back and forth, biting and baiting and testing each other’s limits, feeling each other out again after the things that have changed.

He’s caused something much deeper and darker in her to snap and make her forget the armour of indifference she’s used to shield herself from the world for so long. Because when she snarls the next words at him he sees, sees the cracks that splinter and fissure right down to the core of her where her ice and steel give way to vulnerability.

“They didn’t take you and stuff you into that Cauldron and turn you into something else – something you despise against your will,” her voice cracks with rage and despair and something like grief – grief for what she was, what she lost, what was taken from her.

Her breathing shudders as she goes on, apparently unable to stop herself now that she’s begun and this time her words tremble, tapping into a vein of emotion in her so deep that the impact it has on her – on him – staggers him.

“And they didn’t make you watch, make you feel helpless, and powerless, and weak as they did the same thing to the person you love most while you couldn’t do a single damn thing about it,” she rages, stamping her foot in a futile bid to relieve some of the crushing, unbearable pressure that’s hammering down on her soul.

Cassian had watched, watched as they’d dragged both girls to the Cauldron and forced them under. He’d listened to Nesta’s howling screams, seen her fight like a snared beast to get to Elain, felt that desire to tear her own being into shreds and all the world too for spite and for the sake of her sister. He’d felt her terror and her pain through that promise he’d made her, that bond he’d forged between them – the oath that had killed him when he’d failed to keep it.

The agony in his wings had been too much and he had tried, Mother damn him he had tried. Tried to keep that promise, tried to protect her, tried to die fighting on her behalf as he’d sworn to her he would.  It had destroyed a part of him when the pain had knocked him unconscious and stopped him going to her. He had failed. He had failed her. He had broken his vow. And that thought had haunted him since waking almost as much as the enormity of losing his wings had.

And if that was what watching had been like for him, what it had done to him, then to her…

“You chose this,” she hurls at him, her fury dragging him back to her like a leash on his soul pulling it in to hers.

Her hands clenching into fists at her sides as she fights to keep herself together; tries to stop herself from shattering entirely. And some part of him, some mad, wild part of him wants to reach out to her, to fold her into his arms and shelter her from it all. But the sane, rational part of him that remains tells him she would never allow him.

Her chest is heaving with the effort of containing the raw emotion that throws itself against her soul with the force of a relentless, furious ocean slamming itself against a steadily shattering cliff-face, emotion that he can somehow feel radiating out of her – anger and pain and grief and guilt and he understands.

With the impact of those three words he understands everything.

The difference in what they’d endured and all the fury and contempt she felt for him and his pain when she…

“You chose to shield your friend, your brother-“ as she had failed to shield her sister, “You chose to protect him this way- You chose.” Chose. As she would have. If they had given her that chance. “Was it not worth it?”

Keep reading

Jersey Winter (Cypress)

Brewery : Cypress
Beer : Jersey Winter
Style : Porter
Variance : Brewed with Cold Brew Coffee, Coconut, and Cocoa

8 / 10

Ever wonder what a Mounds bar would taste like if you liquefied it and made it alcoholic? Me either but apparently the fine folks over at Cypress we’re a bunch of curious cats and had to find out but luckily instead of suffering the same deadly fate as their furry feline friends, they just ended up brewing a great beer instead. Jersey Winter is their tribute to the fucking worst season this state has to go through and if you’ve never visited NJ during this season, all you are missing out on is terrible drivers, people calling out of work when there’s only an inch of snow out, and asshole plow drivers burying your car after you spent two hours digging it out. Basically, winter sucks dick but this beer does not so it’s fitting that it’s currently helping me get through the first decent snow storm of 2017. A massive coconut flavor starts things off with a great candy bar sweetness before some chocolate joins in really amplifying those Mounds bar flavors with even more sweetness before ending with a mild coffee flavor with a subdued bitterness to round things off. This really is a dessert beer in it’s purest form and I could almost see Cypress having to sell this recipe to Southern Tier to join their diabetes inducing lineup of after-dinner brews. If you ever find yourself in Edison, NJ for some crazy reason, make sure you check these guys out because they are always evolving and improving and with bottles being released almost monthly, there is always a reason to swing by for a brew. If you don’t mind a beer that will leave you with a sugar rush instead of a hangover, pick this up and enjoy especially in the colder months because this will definitely appeal to all levels of drinkers, especially you rookie bastards out there. Whoop!

Written by: Steve B.

Wait, so you’re saying there’s something on the other side of this?

As soon as I shot this, the snow under her forepaws gave way. Poof. Disappearing dog.

This weekend, a storm rolled through this country with a vengeance. Teton Pass ski area, at the end of this road, reported 55 inches of snow, but assured the world that they would still be open.

Of course, that means the road must be passable, and since they only open for business on the weekend… Accessible with epic snow and very few people mid-week? Had to get out there.

It was everything I expected - and more. The snow was as deep as I’ve ever seen. With just a few flakes still falling, that canyon was a winter wonderland.

The road was, well, passable. I wouldn’t try it with anything that doesn’t have 4-wheel-drive and some decent ground clearance. At one point, the road disappeared a bit under a recent slide. Trail had been broken, but we still scraped bottom getting through. Stopped for a photo op, then thought better of it. Perhaps a known avalanche area isn’t the best place to hang around.

Up the canyon, we met two groups of mule deer in the road, followed them for a piece while they searched for a place to break the banks along the road. Some slips, no panic, it was all a very orderly process.

On up the mountain, toward the pass, the road stayed clear (ok, so that’s a relative term) all the way up. Actually, it was a bit perplexing. The snow to either side of the road wasn’t near as deep as expected. Threw me for a loop until I noticed that, under the snow, the cut banks along the road didn’t seem near so high as they are the rest of the year. I didn’t dig down to figure out just how deep the packed snow over the road was, but it was substantial. Going to be fun when it gets soft!

All in all, I couldn’t have asked for a nicer day in the mountains.

A Refreshing Start (Part Six)

Description: Bucky x Reader. The reader, a trained assassin, decides that she no longer wants to be a killer and that a new start is in order with help from the most unlikely places.
Words: 1,412
Warnings: None
Author’s Note: I can’t believe we’re on chapter 6 already?! Storming through it! Must admit, it gets more fun from here on - still on task for a 10 part series!

Catch up here: Part OnePart TwoPart ThreePart Four Part Five

Tagging: @thinkwritexpress @winchester-with-wings @castihelloboys @starkingdom @heismyhunter @kenzie-110101 @maha-pambata-is-my-patronus @bookshido @jodyri @adriellej @mora-firestone @pickylittlebitch @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @nobodylastname @the-fastest-mutant-sith @colouredwater @the-renaissance @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic

It now counted 2 months since you had made the most drastic career change of your life. Due to your quick thinking skills, somehow you’d managed to earn yourself a minor promotion. It was only as a supervisor and only paid a few cents more per hour but it meant something far more impressive to you:

You were not only passing as normal, you were flourishing at it.

Bucky thought you were mad to be so happy over this fact. He gave you that look parents give their child when proudly presented with a hand drawn picture that was nothing more than shockingly average. But that didn’t matter to you no matter how much you’d come to value his opinion. You were proud, end of story.

After your gatecrashed evening with Bucky, you’d generally spent a couple of nights a week together every week. You’d met Steve once more now too and despite the rocky start he seemed to approve of Bucky spending some time with you - not that you needed approval but it meant something to Bucky.

You cracked the beer bottle in your hand open on the kitchen side. The cap flew off with a pop, landing somewhere near the fridge. Bucky, as most Fridays, had decided to bring some food over to your apartment for the evening. You had no idea what he’d bought, he hadn’t taken it out of the paper bag yet but you assumed it to be something easy to throw in the microwave.

“Whatcha doin’ there?” Bucky smirked, bending to pick up the bottle cap and turning to you, “Trying to kill me with a bottle cap now?”

“If I was trying, I’d have succeeded.” You spoke as though it were a simple fact, throwing him a wink. It was nice to keep him on his toes. You passed the beer bottle to him and he shoved the lid in his pocket unthinkingly so that he could accept it.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” He shrugged, taking a sip, “I could take you down in 10 seconds, 15 on a bad day.”

“Dream on,” You scoffed, eyes flicking to his torso subconsciously, “That rusty arm of yours might give you an advantage but I’m me so…”

“So what?” he said, raising an eyebrow and going quiet for a second before laughing. “I’m joking - you’d probably last at least a whole 30 seconds.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for your drink that was already open. It was a different type of beer to Bucky’s - generally you made sure to keep a stock of both his and your favourites. You’d let him have the final word on this round but you wouldn’t next time. Taking a gulp of your drink and leaning against the kitchen side, you nodded to the paper bag he’d left on the table.


“So, what’s in the bag?”

“What would you say to a microwave pasta meal?” He said, eying you somewhat cautiously, “There’s a choice of carbonara or some tomato kind of one, can’t quite remember.”

You made sure your face gave nothing away, holding his gaze for a long moment as you took a sip of your drink. You placed the bottle down, shrugging as you played with the condensation on the glass, a smirk creeping onto your face.

“I’d say I’ll live dangerously and go with the mystery tomato one.”

Bucky’s tense look faded into a smile and he shook his head at your antics. You had to admit, you got a bit of a kick out of winding him up like that but it went both ways now.

“I’ll get them ready, you go get the TV or whatever set up,” Bucky said, reaching for the paper bag.

You nodded and grinned, picking up your recently discarded bottle and heading past Bucky. You placed your free hand briefly on his shoulder as you went behind him, more of a platonic gesture than a flirty one but you still felt his muscles tense slightly. Looks like you still had it - good to know. With a last look behind you, you wandered out.

The apartment wasn’t big so by the time you’d excited the kitchen doorway you were already in the lounge. Perks of your crappy roommate was that you had the tiny space mainly to yourself. You crashed down onto the couch - the comfier seat, not the one with the loose spring - and grabbed the remote. Turning the TV on, you flicked by a few annoying channels, stopping briefly on the news channel as you saw the silhouette of a familiar skyline but carried on past it. No need to get information on places you didn’t live in anymore, you didn’t plan on taking out targets anywhere other than the closest shooting range (it’d been impossible to resist).

Finally you settled down and found a sitcom, it’d do until the pair of you finished dinner. After that you could settle in for the movie and that was your favourite part off the evening.

An electronic beep sounded from the kitchen and you paused, thinking it was the microwave - only to remember that it was your ringtone. You’d not had much need for a phone further than work or Bucky but it was likely a shift change or that someone left something behind again. You may as well be the café’s lost property, being a flight of stairs away things always ended up in your apartment until your colleague could collect.

“Hey Buck, could you chuck my phone through?” You shouted, barely turning around.

You heard a mumbled “yes” and he appeared in the door frame, sending the cell flying towards to you from a dramatic underarm throw. You caught it easily in one hand.

“Thanks,” you said with a smile.

“You’re welcome, Doll,” he said, disappearing around the doorway before poking his head back, “It’ll be 1 minute by the way.”

You resisted the urge to giggle, settling for letting your grin widen instead.

“Sounds good.”

He tapped the frame two times in acknowledgement before heading back to guard the microwave. Your smile stayed fixed to your face as you flipped your phone over and clicked the notification on the screen. Your eyes began to dance across the screen picking out keywords and you felt your heart begin to hammer.

You had to be reading this wrong… You read it again twice more and felt the smile fall off of your face like a car may plummet off of a cliff. There was no doubting this. It was only short with little room for ambiguous terms. Closing the message, you looked up to the TV with as normal a face as possible.

“Pasta for the lady,” Bucky said, walking in with two bowls in hand.

You snapped your head up and gave him a small smile, taking your dinner from him. It definitely smelled good but somehow you’d lost your appetite.

“You star,” You said, picking up the fork in the bowl and stabbing a few pieces. You stared at the pasta for a moment before stuffing it in, chewing slowly. Bucky came to sit on the sofa next to you, the cheap sofa cushion dipping dramatically as he did. You should probably consider buying a new sofa but that was just as much your roommate’s look out as your

Nothing was said for a few moments as Bucky took his first mouthful, he raised it up to a few centimeters from his lips before putting the fork down.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Bucky’s face changed instantly. It was stupid to think he wouldn’t have noticed but you’d hoped to get away with it. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine!”

“Try that again sounding a bit more believable?”

“Can we not just eat for now and talk about it later?”

“Not now that you’ve made it sound as bad as that,” Bucky muttered. You scoffed, skewering a single piece of pasta before pursing your lips and setting the whole thing down on the coffee table. It wasn’t like you could stomach it anyway right now.

“I didn’t want to say it straight out like this,” you grimaced,”But this is going to have to be the last evening we spend together. You need to leave.”

—–

Part Seven

It’s snowing balls out here, and I am SO EXCITE because we haven’t had a futzing proper storm all winter, and now its EVERYWHERE and everything is excellent. We’re supposed to get up to like, 18 inches or something, and I can’t wait to finish up my Kili cosplay so I can put on the fuzzy garters and go a-tromping through the snow with the doggie version of Fili. Oh, and grab Uncle Thorin, of course. Can’t be leaving easily grump’d uncles out, can we now?

@kneelinmypresence

Come on, Uncle Thorin. You know you wanna.

Weathering the Storm


Pairing: Bucky x OFC
Warnings: ptsd episode, blood mention, some sexual content, language 

Words: 6187 (cuz damn)
Summary: Lacey’s night is interrupted by Bucky’s episode. She spends the night in his bed. Fluff ensues, and some sexiness. (more smut is coming in chapter 2 - pun intended)

or: Bucky gets a haircut and makeout sesh after a really bad night  (✿◕ᴗ◕)・:*:・。.

Originally posted by hardcoreboxdrummer

Originally posted by allthisherostuff


Soul churning heart ache is the only way Lacey Holland could possibly think to describe the feeling that tore through her when she walked in on Bucky Barnes six months ago. October was already bitterly cold, a sure sign of harsh winter months yet to come. That night saw a grand total of forty minutes sleep for Lacey as a storm raged on outside, lighting up her bedroom with its flashes. Lightning painted the sky with whip wounds of blue and red. Thunder peals and the crackling of trees at the forest’s edge became the accompaniment to nature’s brutal song.

She paid no mind to the weather. Unaffected by wind gusting sheets of rain against her windows, or the annoyance of particularly loud thunder. What kept her awake was the man in the room one floor above. Heavy footfalls marched in an unintelligible pattern, ending at last with the sound of rushing water flushing through plumbing pipes hidden in the wall. The pipes clanged as air was forced upward to his shower, making an additional racket behind where Lacey’s head rested wide awake on her pillow. She reached blindly for the cell phone at the top corner of the mattress, flicked the screen on, winced at the light, and checked the time.

1:41 A.M.

Why the hell was Barnes in the shower so late? Did he not know it’s unsafe to shower during a storm like this? Lacey’s forehead lined with concern when she considered how close the strikes were landing now, just short of the building itself. It was only a matter of time before one or two hit directly on the rods on the roof.

A hoarse, muffled cough broke through a temporary lull in the thunderous soundtrack, followed quickly by a loud groan. It wasn’t the type of groan that goes along with a shower though. Barnes had made his fair share of noise upstairs before. Lacey had become somewhat familiar with his grunts and aching muscle sounds. At least she chalked it up to aching muscles and not the much more lascivious notion that he could be doing something else. It wasn’t as if she intended to be awake and listen to him through the poorly insulated ceiling. She couldn’t help that. So Lacey forced herself to think of other activities where heavy breathing might happen. Like exercise. Pushups or something. Yeah.

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Yesterday: Hiking in the “Wonderlands” of Joshua Tree National Park, but with a difference: wet feet from fording streams

I spent the day yesterday hiking through the labyrinths of the Wonderland of Rocks area of Joshua Tree National Park. Following this past weekend’s storms, which followed several other storms and rain events over the deserts of Southern California this winter, I experienced something I haven’t experienced in my 30 years of hiking in the Park: flowing streams, some deep pools in spots, requiring fording the streams, and getting wet hiking shoes, socks and feet. We had to remind ourselves that we were in the desert when we saw cactus surrounded by water and ferns and moss proliferating on and among the boulders, and enjoyed an almost overwhelming odor in spots of pine sap from the pinyon pines and juniper.

If you’ve been to Joshua Tree National Park as a regular or sporadic visitor, or if you’ve been there only once, most likely you’ve been to Barker Dam. Because of the winter storms, the pond behind the Dam is the most expansive and deepest I’ve ever seen.

Some photos. I’ll post some additional photos later today.

All photos by rjzimmerman February 19, 2017.

grumpyrobin  asked:

It's a commonly held notion that if Elsa were to die, then the eternal winter would end. Is there any direct evidence for this in the movie? I can't find any. After all, as long as Elsa is alive, she might figure out how to undo it. If she dies and the winter persists, then the folk of Arendelle are up the frozen creek.

It is indeed commonly believed and I think it would be true because Elsa is like the “eye of the storm”. 

For example, during the whiteout scene in the movie the blizzard happens around Elsa. There is this space around her where it’s a bit calmer. The way we can see this is how Hans gets to Elsa and how he has to go through this sort of snow whirl around Elsa.

Another example are the snowgies. If Elsa does not sneeze then there’s no snowgies. 

If there is no source then there would be no consequence. If Elsa weren’t there to be the “eye of the storm” then there’s no storm. 

Headcanons - Snuggles and Sass

During the worst winter storms, its almost a mandatory tradition for Roy and Riza to hole up with blankets, hot chocolate, popcorn, and whatever horrible movie they can get their hands on…and make fun of it all the way through. Roy assigns voices and stereotypical personalities to characters, and Riza is usually too busy laughing at something he’s said to come up with many quips of her own.

bend light around your skin (until it colors you clear) // [toronto au part I]

[eventually clexa; based off of this prompt—lexa moves to toronto after the death of her wife, costia. clarke is an artist who paints murals. lexa rides by on her bike a lot. people heal & stuff.]

//

bend light around your skin (until it colors you clear)

.

and once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. you won’t even be sure whether the storm is really over. but one thing is certain. when you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. that’s what this storm is all about.
—haruki murakami

//

It’s starting to get cold enough that your hands sting and the paint doesn’t always dry in time.

The weather is beautiful, though, and you’re glad for the time outside; winters in Toronto are long and freezing and you won’t get to do any more murals until April, maybe the end of March if you’re lucky. You get commissioned for installations and gallery shows all the time, and you have a big studio, lots of metal and wire and things you pick up off the street, huge canvases and all the oils you might need, but there’s something about murals that you’ve always loved.

And this one is no different: the wall—a big brick thing along one side of a refurbished theater—is one of the best places yet. You’ve gotten the outlines of the major figures finished, and you’ve started your favorite part, getting to throw on thick, almost careless grand layers of paint.

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The Warmest Winter Robe Coats

12 wrap coats to keep you warm this season

With the East Coast getting hit by Juno, a massive blizzard that has earned the hashtag #Snowmageddon, cozy winter coats are top of mind. If you’re in the midst of the storm or if you just want to stay fashionably warm this season, a thick, comfortable coat is the first thing you’ll need. The best thing about a robe coat, besides the fact that it’s conveniently of-the-moment, is that it’s comfy enough to wear curled up on the coach or on your walk to the subway. Scroll through our selection of robe coats below for the perfect cold-weather fix.

Barney’s Assistant Fashion Director Laura Stoloff

Blogger Sarah Yates of A House in the Hills

Shop Robe Coats

VINCE robe style coat

Ted Baker Belted Wrap Coat in Pale Pink

ASOS TALL Funnel Neck Coat

Maison Scotch Belted Coat in Wool

Shawl Collar Coat

Chelsea wool-blend felt wrap coat

Falabella Wrap Coat

Belted Lirky Coat

CHESSYShort wrap coat

AGNONA belted coat

Water Repellant Cotton Taffeta Jacket

Plaid Wrap Jacket

Want to see more? Search more blanket coats here and check out our past features on oversized coats and blanket coats.

I'll be your rock if you'll be my light || Sam and Tony A/O verse

It was a crisp winter afternoon, the snow had just started falling, whiting out the ground at a rather fast pace. A winter storm they said was rolling through. Hair what sam needed, he hated the cold,
It made the scars on his wings tighten and cause him an annoying amount of discomfort.

The angel sighed softly, pushing past a large group of people with cameras to get into the cafe to hopefully warm himself up. Someone important must be here, though way swarm on them like this? That is the one thing he never understood about humans. No angel swooned over the archangels, there was no press obsessing over Gabriel leaving heaven.

Sam looked over to the booth that the photographers were trying to get a picture of. He might be new to the whole superhero thing but he knew the recently retired ironman when he saw him. Sam offered a soft smile to the man of iron himself, seeing as the other had his eyes on him the moment he came in.

He slid into a booth by himself, his wings stirring under his skin as he waited for his coffee to come to his table.

CONFESSION:   

 So this winter we had a huge snow storm hit where I live and (being the geniuses we are) my best friend and I decided to WALK to the park by her house to play in the snow. Between falling a lot and the fact that our clothes were soaked through, we only made it a block or so before we decided to turn back because we were so exhausted. I couldn’t help but to think of the inquisitor’s trek through the frostbacks when escaping haven and, as much as I hate how slowly they walk…I get it now.

6

That Winter White

Or Blizzard Camo?

Soo a while back I decided to plan a little vacay for this week and as luck would have it, this is the week that mother nature decided to have a sh*t fit and get all on icy on us. Yesterday’s flight was already cancelled and right now I’m at the aiport prayinggggg that my rescheduled flight doesn’t get delayed and I can make it to my sunny beachside destination safely and on time. Anyway, all this crazy snowpocalypse frenzy got me feeling winter white vibes or as I’m now calling it, “blizzard camo,” so here’s a CoCo inspired lewk to get you and me through the storm.

Wearing:

Express Jacket  //  Boohoo Turtleneck  //  Zara Jeans  //  Monokel Eyewear Sunglasses  //  ASOS Shoes

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5

Just a few of the (many!) birds who partook of the seeds I scattered to help get them through the snow & ice storm. They may have appreciated the surprise boost for their metabolism in the sub-freezing temps, but seeing their precious beauty & charming characters whilst being able to eat their fill, it was I who felt I’d been given a gift.

Also (as seen in photo #1), it’s marvelous just how closely blue jay wing/tail feathers echo the intricate natural mosaic of butterfly wings.