Monthly Writing Challenges

Join us each month for a new theme, prompt list, or creative challenge and share your writing here! All genres, pairings, and ratings welcome. Let’s celebrate consistent creativity together. Header and Avatar by Fireballazalea

[monthlywritingchallenges]

✔️ look at our monthly prompts

✔️ interpret the prompts however you like: literal, metaphorical, or loosely inspired.

✔️ any genre, any fandom, or original works are welcome!

✔️ tag your posts with @monthlywritingchallenges and use a cut for longer fics.

✍️ Tips for writing

🗂 AO3 Collection here

🕔 Past Prompts

💬 Got questions? Want to suggest a theme or prompt? Feel free to send an ask!

[monthlywritingchallenges]

🤍 Prompt List 🤍

1. First step

2. Taking a chance

3. Open hands

4. A second chance

5. “Trust me.”

6. Lowering your guard

7. Keeping a promise

8. An honest answer

9. Asking for help

10. Letting someone stay

11. A leap of faith

12. Admitting you were wrong

13. The truth, finally

14. A hand held out

15. Starting over

16. “I believe you.”

17. Being seen

18. Choosing to stay

19. An apology

20. The first secret

21. Trusting again

22. A promise kept

23. Showing up

24. Letting go of control

25. “You can tell me.”

26. A door left unlocked

27. Forgiveness

28. The benefit of the doubt

29. A risk worth taking

30. “I’m not going anywhere.”

31. Faith in someone else

As always, tag @monthlywritingchallenges and have fun! 🤍

[monthlywritingchallenges]

Vote for your next challenge

Hello everyone! As every month, I propose you a poll to vote for your next writing challenge :)

Next challenge : August

DustAugust: fading memories, time passing, letting go

TrustAugust: vulnerability, second chances, faith

SunburstAugust: brightness, breakthrough, summer

LustAugust: passion, desire, longing

AdjustAugust: adaptation, change, bending

Voting ended onJul 21

[monthlywritingchallenges]

Your votes, your decision: TrustAugust is our winner! Prompts soon to come!

[hyacinthpoetry]

Broken Promises (Cross and Stone)

Prompts: Moonlit Path, Staying Out Late, Summer Nostalgia, A Promise (20, 24, 26, 30)

We walk through this forest of dreams

The twin moons above lighting our way

My thoughts to return home fade with the glow of the sun

And I can't help but appreciate the view

The way your eye sparkles like fireflies

Leaves my stomach in a knot

The way your hair looks, illuminated by the stars

Leaves me shocked into silence

The way the wind brushes through your soft curls

Leaves me wishing it was my fingers disturbing your mane

I don't bother leaving breadcrumbs

Knowing no matter where we end up, I rather be there with you

When we reach a river and settle upon a stone

I feel your cold flesh, a contrast to my heat

I watch as the twin moons come together

Forming a beam that leads into the depths

You rise to follow, and I grab your wrist

I remember those words you had said to me that night

“You know I can't stay. But I'll be back next year, I promise.”

And I believed you, like I always did

Year after year, since our first summer together

You followed that moonlit path

Your upper body would disappear into the deep blue first

Followed slowly by your evergrowing serpentine tail

When you stopped coming back, I sat at the shore

Waiting patiently, desperately, for a flicker of that deep grey skin

That promise you spoke, all those years ago, stays with me

And every summer, for days on end, I await your return

I close my eyes, feeling the phantom of your scales against my thigh

The strength of your arms around my waist

I remember the nights you would drag me out of bed to show me the stars

Pointing up at the sky with a toothy grin

You'd ask me to fly you out there once I grew strong enough

And I promised you I would

So I sit, my leathery wings folded around my coffee brown torso

Waiting for the water to be disturbed

I just hope you recognize me

So we can take to the skies together

@monthlywritingchallenges

[fivecrazyraccoons]

Lavender Dates

Rockaway Beach - 1939

“You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead.”

“What was her name again?”

“Does he know?” she asked as he picked up another baseball.

“Ha!” Bucky huffed, throwing the ball a bit too hard and only knocking down the bottle at the top. “Stubborn punk ain’t got a clue.” He missed the bottles entirely that time.

She patted his shoulder while he pulled out another nickel. She looked off to where Alice stood with Steve.

“What’s your plan? Win him a stuffed bear and hope he gets the hint?”

Another couple came close and she twirled her red curls around her finger, leaning into Bucky flirtatiously.

“I don’t know, Dot. I don’t know.”

~~~~~~~~

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[fivecrazyraccoons]

Brooklyn - 1940

Bucky caught himself gazing at Steve at the small table. He couldn’t help it. The glow of the restaurant lighting bounced golden off of his blonde hair and made his blue eyes sparkle as he concentrated on drawing on his napkin.

By the light kick to his shin, his “date” noticed him staring too.

He looked across to see Ruth raising her eyebrows at him, eyes darting between him and Steve.

“Say something!” She mouthed at him.

Bucky drew his eyebrows together and gave a quick but small shake of his head before turning back to Steve.

Steve remained oblivious.

“So,” Steve said, not looking up from his napkin. “Are you ladies from Brooklyn?”

“I'm from Kansas actually. But we've been staying in lower Manhattan. Near Washington Square. Emma and I are roommates.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Ruth from across the table. She may as well have written the word “queer” on her forehead.

“That’s nice, isn’t it, Buck?” Steve said, clearly not picking up the hints. Bucky couldn’t decide if it was relieving or frustrating. “It took a bit to get used to, but it’s nice having Bucky. Not being alone. Why are you making that face, Buck?”

~~~~~~~~

Day 21 of @monthlywritingchallenges Firefly July: glow

AO3 link

[fivecrazyraccoons]

Brooklyn - 1942

“Bucky’s pretty swell, ain't he?”

They were always far more interested in Bucky than they were in Steve. And the worst part? Steve couldn't even blame them.

He was more interested in Bucky than he was in them. But Bucky kept setting them up on these dates and so Steve played along.

They went out all the time—as much Steve’s health would let them. And it was the same story every time, though the girls changed.

Bucky set them up, one of them hung off Bucky all night while the other made nice conversation with Steve, usually about Bucky.

--------

“I don't know, Frances. He's hard to read.”

“We gotta do something, Helen. I'm tired of seeing Bucky all bummed out.”

“I think Steve likes him. Caught him smiling and doodling dark slicked back hair.”

“You said he was hard to read!”

“He is! I don't think he knows it himself yet. Which means he's worlds away from admitting it to Bucky.”

Frances took her girl’s hand, understanding.

“I talked him up the whole time, just trying to parse out Steve’s feelings. That's all I got.”

“Poor Bucky.”

“Yeah, and poor Steve,” Helen said, bringing Frances’ hand to her lips.

--------

Steve sat in the apartment alone. Bucky had wanted to take a walk after their date. Steve thought he seemed disappointed.

He wasn't sure what for—it seemed both girls were enamored with him. Helen spent most of their time talking about Bucky, like she might rather be with him than Steve.

He opened up his sketchbook, flipping through pencil drawings of the same face he saw every day.

He touched the outline of a strong jaw and thought for a moment about touching the real thing.

“Yeah, Buck’s pretty swell,” he said with only the crickets to answer him.

\~\~\~\~\~\~\~

Day 22 of @monthlywritingchallenges Firefly July: sound of crickets

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I am having too much fun with this. It was just supposed to be one drabble about “Dolores, you called her Dot” but here we are 600 words planned into 1500.

[avichigda]

The Necessary Lie

Fandom: Infinity Nikki Ship: Chigda/Avicinda Rating: T Link (ao3): click me

Written for @monthlywritingchallenges's Firefly July.

The forest by the Land of Starfall whispered its quiet song as the wind ruffled the treetops. Lord Chigda, who had rarely left the Temple of Wishes these days, sat by the quiet river, the Aurosa Valley glowing beyond it, and the statue of the Wishing One looming over the Wishing Woods.

A gust of wind howled in Chigda's long ears that could hear every little thing, making them flutter to readjust. He leaned closer to the water and dipped his hand into it, its coolness refreshing like his loneliness. Farewisher Eltinada was probably nearby, conducting another ceremony to say goodbye to another Faewish Sprite suffering from Desperation Syndrome — the pandemic of Chigda's own making, the cause of his people's suffering; yet another mistake that he didn't wish to admit he'd made.

Read more on AO3!

[glitterswitchcraft]

Done for @monthlywritingchallenges ' Firefly July!

From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series / OT3 / RichieKateSeth / RichieKate-Centric / Rated Explicit for Sexual Situations / See here for full list of tags / 4580 words / Set two years post-canon / prequel / AO3

prompts: warm breeze, dancing lights, the perfect moment, glow, the sound of crickets, night swimming

Part One is pure fluff. Part Two - coming soon to a blog near you! - is the smut :3

what is love if not a warm breeze, summer dancing in the air pt. 1

Richie stepped out into the sultry night, leaving behind the scent of spilled whiskey and frustration. The heat immediately found him, warming his blood. Out here he inhaled warm asphalt, chlorine, cut grass, and the faint tang of diesel drifting from the highway.

Behind him he left Seth taking yet another shot, pacing and muttering to himself. In one hand Richie held onto Kate’s sneakers, the other undoing his buttoned collar. He lifted his head, scenting the air, uncanny eyes easily making out shapes in the semi-dark, and - there, by the pool. Kate.

She was curled up in a patio chair at one of the little tables by the pool. He watched her stretch out one leg, then the other, until her bare toes found the cool water. The soft splash of desultory little waves echoed against the motel walls.

A small distance away, the neon sign flickered and hummed in the warm night air. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked and an eighteen-wheeler rumbled by. Crickets sang from their hiding places.

Kate sighed, stretching out further until both feet were just barely submerged. Her back was to him, so that he couldn’t make out her features, but he would be willing to bet money that she wasn’t smiling.

“You okay?”

She startled slightly, then he heard her snort out a laugh, turning her head to glance over her shoulder. “So did you finally kill Seth, or did you actually come to an agreement without me?”

“Not exactly.” Richie’s voice was very dry.

Kate sighed, shoulders slumping, curling her toes in the water.

He came up around her, and set her shoes on the table between them, lowering himself slowly into another chair, eyes on her the entire time.

She glanced over, eyes flicking to her sneakers. Something in her face softened a little. “Well, I hope you didn’t come out here just to drag me back into the middle of it.”

He huffed softly. “That’s not why I’m here.”

Kate propped her chin in one hand, leaning on the table and eyeing him. He gazed back at her steadily, idly undoing his cuffs and rolling up the sleeves.

Finally she sighed. “So what’s up?”

He nodded to her sneakers. “Put those on.”

Kate blinked, hand falling away from her face. “Okay…? Where are we going?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Somewhere you’ll need shoes,” he replied placidly, mouth twitching.

She scoffed, but finally obeyed, waving her feet in the air to get them dry first. The sight made him laugh softly, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He watched her slip on her sneakers with satisfaction. Good.

The motel was in a U-shape, with the pool smack in the middle. Richie led her around the far end, where the streetlamps stopped just short of the awning, cloaking them in darkness.

Then they rounded the corner to the back of the motel, and Kate drew up short, blinking.

There was nothing much back here. Just a field that stretched out into the darkness. Tall, gently waving grass glittered silver in the moonlight, dotted here and there with what Richie could tell were different kinds of wildflowers. Towards the back of the field was a treeline; he could make out a barbed wire fence strung between the them, and beyond, a few fat cows grazed.

He’d noticed the area in passing when driving up to the motel yesterday, and he was sure, based on past experience, that they’d find what he was looking for.

Kate scanned the area, curiosity writ across her features. “So, this is…different.” She cast him a questioning look.

In the light of the moon, Kate's hair shone darkly, the red turned nearly black. Her eyes, though, were still unmistakably green to him, bright even in the darkness.

Moonlight suited her.

Richie looked away from her so she wouldn’t catch him looking like some lovestruck idiot, and focused on the back of the field.

He could clearly make out a flicker in the gloom of the trees, a bright, brief flash of gold. To him they were impossible to miss, glowing little pulses drifting over the grass.

Kate turned to follow his gaze, brow furrowing. He heard it when she found what he was looking at - her breath caught with a little ‘oh.’

Then she was wading into the grass, towards the slow-blinking pinpricks of light that bobbed above the field. He followed behind her silently, their steps shaking loose the warm smell of sun-baked grass.

Finally she came to a stop just in front of the closest tree. Slowly, carefully, she held out a hand, and gently scooped one of the lightning bugs out of the air.

He stopped a couple paces away, making sure to scuff his shoe along the ground so that she would know he was still there. She’d complained a few times that he moved too quietly, and so - when he wasn’t in the mood to tease - he’d let her know he was there by virtue of some kind of noise.

“You know those aren’t actually flies?” He started, and saw Kate’s mouth twitch.

“No?” She asked, turning to him slowly, the firefly crawling across her knuckles as she held her hand out carefully between them. “What are they, then?”

“They’re beetles.”

“Okay, I actually didn’t know that,” Kate laughed softly, watching the tiny creature as it explored her hand, flashing a one-two as it went.

“Yeah. I don’t really know all the different kinds they have here, but in Kansas there were anywhere from ten, fifteen species all across the state. The ones near our house were called Big Dippers…they had this long J-shaped flash pattern. I'd sit outside with a notebook trying to keep track of them."

Kate began to slowly smile, even as the firefly on her hand took flight again. “You kept a notebook?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, field research is serious business. I had to keep track of their movements, which part of the yard they liked, stuff like that.”

He explained about the different flash patterns, the markings, the lifespans. How they spent more time growing underground than they did as winged adults. How one firefly made a figure-eight as it flew.

Kate looked delighted.

“Why?”

It took Richie a second to register the question. He’d been saying something about the one-two blinking pattern. “Why what?”

“Why do they flash differently?”

“Oh. Well, sometimes it’s to signal a mate. You know, like how male peacocks have their tails, some spiders dance - “

Kate sputtered a laugh. “Excuse me? Dancing spiders?”

“Yeah, like tarantulas. They tap out these little rhythms and dance to impress the females.”

“Tap-dancing spiders,” Kate whispered to herself, giggling.

Richie grinned down at her. “So. That’s why some fireflies blink a certain way. They’re signaling that they’re down to fuck. And - “

Kate’s laughter rang across the field, startling some thrush that had been hiding a little ways down. They burst from the grass in a flurry of indignant chirps before disappearing into the night.

She covered her mouth, her eyes sparkling above her hand. “That wasn’t supposed to be so loud,” she whispered between her fingers, sounding sheepish.

Chuckling, he gently pulled her hand away from her face, threading their fingers together. Kate's laugh was one of his favorite sounds in the world, and he'd be damned if she was going to start apologizing for it now.

He squeezed her hand, thumb running across her knuckles. “It’s true, though. They’re basically speed-dating.”

She snorted out another laugh, and something warmed in his chest.

He hadn’t had much of a plan, save for distract Kate from Seth’s idiocy. But now here she was, laughing freely, shoulders unburdened, eyes shining in the moonlight. He considered it a mission well accomplished.

Then she squinted up at him. “So,” she started with some amusement, “where was Seth during your field research?”

“Oh, he helped. I made him help.”

As he spoke he recalled, with sudden visceral intensity, a much younger version of himself, in his childhood home, out in the yard at dusk - a flashlight and a ratty old notebook in hand as he waited for the first fireflies of the evening to appear. Seth at his elbow, griping about the mosquitoes and the heat, all the while clutching a mason jar.

Then Kate let go of his hand, to reach out and let another firefly land on her. She cupped her hands, peering at it in the little cavern she’d made of her fingers. “Let me guess, you tried sneaking them in the house.” She smiled down at the little beetle. “Scott and I did that all the time. Mama would let us keep the jar for the day, then make us go back outside the next night and let them go. She said it was cruel to keep them cooped up like that.”

She opened her hands, releasing the lightning bug, and it flitted away with a flicker of light trailing in its wake. Then she glanced up at Richie and saw his expression. She cocked her head, smile fading a little. “What is it?”

That was the thing about Kate. Most people - they just smiled politely and leaned back a little whenever he started rambling. But Kate. Kate leaned in. She didn’t just listen, she absorbed. She asked questions.

Kate just fucking cared.

Richie smiled, small and private, and shook his head.

He wasn't about to tell her about the jar of fireflies Seth had dropped in the house. About how badly his brother had been punished. About how that had been the last summer they'd ever gone chasing them.

Some memories were better left where they belonged.

Not here, not tonight.

Kate seemed to sense the shift in his mood, subtle though it was, and took his hands in hers. She used them to balance herself as she lifted onto her tiptoes to brush her mouth against his.

Instinctively, his head dipped to meet her. He lifted their joined hands, and she smiled against his mouth as her arms slid around his neck.

His hands trailed back down her arms, slipping behind her. He scooped her up around the waist, pulling her up against him, and she sighed into the kiss, fingers carding through his hair.

Then Kate pulled back, just far enough so that her lips brushed his as she spoke. "You know," she murmured, smiling against his mouth, "you definitely have a way with words."

Richie huffed a quiet laugh. "Pretty sure I just told you fireflies are horny."

Kate laughed too, pressing her forehead briefly to his.

"Exactly.” She kissed him again, soft and sweet. “Nerd.”

Then she slid a hand down to his, tangling their fingers together, and she tugged at him. He kept pace with her, letting himself be steered happily.

As they walked, he tucked a hand into the back pocket of her little jean shorts. In return, she slid an arm around his waist as they left the field at a leisurely stroll.

She led them back to the pool; Richie had a pretty good idea as to why. When they arrived at the water’s edge, Kate sighed and turned to slip her other arm around him, a small divot appearing between her brows as she looked up at him.

“If you go back inside, am I gonna have to play referee again?”

He pushed back an errant lock of hair that had fallen across her face. “You know that’s not your job, Kate. Also no, because I’m pretty sure Seth’s passed out by now.” He glanced towards their door. “He was working on shot number five when I left.”

Kate groaned, her face falling. “Dammit, Seth,” she muttered.

Then he cocked his head at her, eyes roaming over her features curiously. “Why? You don’t want company?”

“It’s not that,” she said slowly, frustration melting as a little smile appeared. “I just wanted you to go grab your swim trunks.”

He blinked - then a grin slowly spread across his face. He leaned in, giving her a soft, swift kiss. “Yes, ma’am.”

He'd been right. Seth was sprawled sideways across the bed nearest the door like roadkill, clad in nothing but his boxers. The whiskey bottle sat half-empty on the nightstand beside him.

Richie sighed. Fucking idiot.

It didn't happen that often anymore. Seth had gotten better over the last couple of years - better at stopping after one drink instead of six, better at recognizing when old ghosts were getting too loud. But once Seth dug his heels in, you'd have an easier time convincing the moon to change orbit. And every so often something hooked under his skin, and he'd chase it to the bottom of a bottle.

Tonight had apparently been one of those nights.

Kate usually wound up caught somewhere in the blast radius. Not because either of them ever aimed it at her - they didn't - but because living with two stubborn Gecko brothers meant getting dragged into arguments she'd never asked to referee in the first place.

The guilt would hit Seth sometime around breakfast the next day. He'd apologize awkwardly - something else that was new - while pretending he wasn't apologizing at all. Kate would accept it because she loved the moron and had enough grace for all three of them. Richie would call him an asshole once or twice for good measure, and life would move on.

And it was a good life, Richie knew.

He couldn't have told you exactly when it happened. One day it had been just him and Seth against the world. Then somewhere along the way there had been a third toothbrush in the bathroom, long red hair on their pillowcases, groceries that weren't just whiskey and takeout...

...and somehow it had become home.

Kate had quietly taken all the jagged little pieces of their lives and fit herself between them. Somehow, impossibly, everything held together.

He stared down at Seth a moment longer, then shook his head in exasperation and headed for his luggage.

Now changed, he headed back outside. The warm air caressed his bare skin, the sudden shift in temperature spreading goosebumps across his arms.

Kate was sitting in the same chair he’d found her in, clothes in a neat pile on the table beside her, having left her bikini on after swimming earlier that day.

As she stood to face him, the glow from the ‘Vacancy’ sign caught the shimmering white material, turning it ruby red. For a heartbeat she looked like living fire.

Two years ago the sight would've made his stomach knot.

Now all he saw was Kate.

The color suited her. Though at first Kate had tried dyeing it over and over, after two years her hair was still the exact same shade Amaru’s had been. It just grew that way now.

Kate still had the occasional nightmare, though they’d regressed from actual night terrors down to something more manageable. The hair, Richie knew, hadn’t made moving on any easier - but Kate had very slowly learned to embrace it.

He reached out to smooth a hand across her head, carding his fingers through the scarlet locks. She tilted her head, following his hand, eyes fluttering closed for the smallest moment.

Then they blinked open, and she breathed deep, her hands drifting to his chest. She leaned into him, a kiss landing on the corner of his mouth. He felt her smile against him as her fingers trailed down, tracing his abdominal muscles before dipping into the waistband of his swim shorts. She ran her fingers back and forth along the edge, teeth coming out to nibble at his lower lip.

Richie’s hands cinched around her waist, hauling her up against him so that he could kiss her properly. She just had time to breathe out a laugh before his mouth claimed hers, opening it wide, tongue tangling with her own.

With a moan she melted against him, soft curves contouring to his own hard planes. Her fingers slipped further into the back of his shorts, sharp little nails digging into him.

He had to break the kiss before it became too heated; he was moments away from laying her out on the table behind them and unknotting the strings of her bikini.

She came away from him with a breathless little sound that he swore was disappointment. “Thought you wanted to swim,” he murmured, kneading her hips comfortingly.

“I did. I do.” She gave him one last reluctant squeeze before stepping back. “You're a terrible distraction, you know that?”

With that, she crouched down at the edge of the pool, balancing herself on one hand, and slid into the water.

She flashed him an inviting look as she turned to propel herself onto her back. Then her eyes slipped closed, and she floated there - face turned to the night sky, hair radiating around her like a pool of blood.

The sight reminded Richie vividly of the day they met; how her pain had rippled through the water in a cloud of red, as if she was bleeding out. It had looked to Richie as though she’d been dying. Which, he’d found out later, hadn’t been far from the truth.

This time, however, he knew better.

She did this often, the floating. It seemed to soothe her, letting her mind wander safely while being cradled by the water. As if, for a little while, she didn't have to carry quite so much herself.

For a few minutes Richie indulged himself, sitting on the pool’s edge with his feet in the water, just watching Kate enjoy herself. He took in the whole of her - the tantalizing curves and hollows of her body, the way the neon signs rippled in the water around her, reflecting off her skin. Though the night would normally have masked them, to his eyes her freckles stood out in sharp relief, little constellations against her tanned skin. There wasn’t an inch of it he hadn’t memorized.

Finally he slipped the rest of the way into the water; the cool bite of it was a pleasant distraction from the heat. She didn’t stir, except to sigh softly as she felt the ripples from his movements.

When he curled a hand around one of her ankles, squeezing lightly, she smiled, but her eyes remained closed.

“Tell me about the tap-dancing spiders,” she murmured up into in the night air.

He scoffed in part amusement, part disbelief. “I bring you to a field full of fireflies, we go for a moonlit swim, and somehow the spiders are what stick with you?"

“Well,” she said, her smile growing, “they are pretty memorable.”

Smirking, he slowly dragged her towards him through the water, until her foot brushed his chest. Carefully, so as not to unbalance her, he lifted her foot and brushed kisses along every toe.

She kept her eyes determinedly shut, biting her lip against a giggle, and wriggled her digits at him. He nipped at them, and the resulting laughter nearly had her plunging beneath the surface of the water. But she spread her arms back out, straightening her spine, and gently pushed off of him, propelling herself towards the deep end.

He followed, slowly but steadily, slipping down into the water until it rose to his chin. For a few leisurely moments all he did was watch her float in and out of the neon lights, painting her in luminescent red and yellow and blue.

There were worse ways to spend the night than watching the woman he loved find some peace.

Eventually he tipped his head back, going under for a brief moment. The water filled his ears with a sort of calm oblivion, and if he concentrated enough on shutting off his abilities, all he could hear was a dull roar. The crickets, the hum of the neon, the distant highway - all gone.

Idly he wondered what would happen if he filled his lungs with water. Would he actually drown momentarily, before waking back up? Or would his body simply reject the water outright, saving him from a temporary death?

Suddenly there was a disturbance in the water. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, tugging at him.

He broke through the surface with a sharp inhale, and as he blinked the chlorine from his eyes, saw that Kate was in front of him, apprehension clouding her features.

“You okay?” She murmured, hand lingering on his shoulder. “You were under for a really long time.”

“Yeah,” he said with some surprise. Why wouldn’t he be? “It’s just quiet under there, is all.” He hadn't realized how loud the night had been until it disappeared.

She huffed out a quiet laugh, features relaxing. “Yeah, it is.” She reached up to smooth his dripping hair away from his forehead, her expression full of fondness.

As she did this, she drifted closer, until she brushed up against him. Her gaze roamed over his features, lingering on his mouth for a moment before flicking back up to meet his eyes.

A grin threatened to overtake him, and he dipped his head to seal his mouth to hers before she could catch it. She hummed, pressing closer to him as her arms slipped around his middle.

The water lapped at them, cool on his skin as he kissed her, hands burying themselves in her dripping hair. Her own hands roamed his back, clutching him to her.

Finally Kate broke the kiss with a little gasp, but didn’t let go of him. “Spiders,” she panted, breath somewhat uneven. In the wavering neon light her pupils were blown wide, her mouth red and bruised.

Richie leaned back, staring. Then he burst out laughing. “Spiders, huh?”

His hands slipped down her, coming to rest on her hips. Squeezing her teasingly, he leaned down to kiss her nose. She breathed out a laugh, tipping her head so that her nose grazed his. “Yes, please.”

Then - with obvious reluctance - Kate slipped away from him, tipping herself backward in the water until it cradled her once more. She blew out a slow, somewhat shaky breath, as if forcing herself to relax, and closed her eyes.

“So. Tap-dancing spiders,” he started easily, a faint smirk playing around his mouth - he always loved getting those reactions out of her. “Those would be tarantulas…”

The moon had reached its zenith a while ago, and was making its way towards the hazy, city-lit horizon. They must have talked for at least a couple of hours.

He had a particular fondness for jumping spiders. The males would enthusiastically court just about every female they encountered, regardless of whether she was even the right species. Sometimes they got lucky. Sometimes they got eaten. Richie had to admire that kind of commitment.

When he told Kate this, she laughed so hard she nearly collapsed into the water again. There were no birds nearby to startle this time, but her laughter echoed against the motel walls, and that familiar warmth bloomed in his chest. Pride, he realized. He'd done that. He'd done that for her.

Maybe this would make her forget that stupid argument. She seemed content enough for now, at least, and he hoped it would last.

She was still floating, occasionally righting herself just to dive all the way into the cool water. Sometimes she would interrupt with a question or some dry observation, making him snort with laughter.

Eventually she paddled back over to him, water streaming from her hair. She rested both hands against his chest, studying him with that thoughtful little expression she got sometimes. The neon light caught her eyes, making her glow.

"What?" he asked.

Kate smiled. "Nothing."

She took him by the shoulders and let the water buoy her upward until she was pressed against him. Instinctively he caught her up around her thighs, supporting her as she wrapped her legs around him.

Then she kissed him, soft and warm. The kind of kiss that was a whole conversation in one gesture.

When she finally drew back, she bumped her forehead lightly against his.

"You know," she murmured, "I don't think anyone has ever made spiders sound romantic before." Her thumbs softly traced his collarbone.

Richie considered that.

"Give me twenty minutes," he said. "I can do snakes next."

Kate made a noise that was part laugh and part groan. "Let’s save that for another night."

“What, snakes aren’t as sexy?” He waggled his brows at her.

She choked on a laugh, hands coming up to cradle his face. “This snake is sexy,” she said, giggling even as she kissed him again. He could feel her shoulders shaking, and pinched her side in retaliation.

When she only squirmed and laughed harder, he shook his head and turned them, wading towards the edge of the pool. Grinning, he sat her down carefully on the side of it, corralling her hips with his arms as he laid them down on either side of her.

Still struggling to contain her giggles, she slung her arms over his shoulders and leaned into him, brushing her nose against his. Grinning, she bit her lip as though she were trying very hard to be serious, but it only lasted a heartbeat before another smile escaped. His mouth caught the corner of hers in a fleeting kiss, and she hummed happily.

Finally her giggles faded. Her eyes still glittered with mirth, but something quieter settled over her expression as she absently ruffled the back of his hair. She looked…

"What?" he asked again, a little more uncertain this time.

Kate shook her head.

"I'm just..." Her smile returned, smaller now. Just for him. "You're kind of incredible, you know that?"

For a moment all he could do was stare at her.

Then he huffed out a laugh, but it died quickly. She was still watching him, smiling softly. Lifting a hand, she carded her fingers through his hair, tousling it more.

After a few painful seconds he found his voice. “You should know you have exceptionally abysmal taste.”

Affection warmed her features, and she leaned her forehead against his, hands moving to cradle his face. “Don’t go selling yourself short,” she whispered, a thumb sweeping over his cheekbone.

Something wound tight in him loosened, then - something he hadn’t even realized was there. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed and drew back slightly, just enough to be able to look her in the eye.

"...Hard not to."

Kate's expression was full of understanding as she gently brushed his hair away from his forehead. "Well." She traced her thumb across his cheek again. "Lucky for you, I'm stubborn."

Then she kissed him.

She tasted like a future he'd never thought he'd get to have.

Once, he thought this kind of life belonged to Seth. Not him. Seth was the one who got the girl, the home, the happy ending. Richie had always imagined his own future differently - louder. Flashier. Dangerous enough that no one could ever mistake him for ordinary.

Funny thing was, he'd gotten all of it eventually - the money, the empire, the notoriety.

None of it compared to this.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. A minute. An hour. Some impossible amount of time that existed only here, in the water, in her arms.

Eventually he pulled back just enough to murmur against her lips, “Love you.”

He felt it when she smiled, wide and unrestrained. “Show me.”

been poking around, but I can't find who these dividers belong to! Help a girl out?

Part Two is on its way!

[shamelesspandawhispers]

Dancing lights

A kind of prelude to The First Firefly

Améli. Six letters. A French name of Germanic origin. It means hardworking and industrious.

Amélie, who lost her name.

First, the i disappeared, violently disrupting the harmony of the remaining sounds. She became Amél – the girl who was caught in a devastatingly passionate, yet entirely one-sided relationship with a celebrity.

"Parasocial relationships...", her psychologist droned on, but Amél wasn't listening. She was thinking about him. Today, the K-pop group he belonged to was performing at a major awards ceremony. Was he nervous? In interviews, he had confessed that before every performance he worried about disappointing his fans. That sensitivity made her shiver with pleasure – she had chosen the right man.

Or rather, she liked to tell herself, chance had brought them together.

Back then, she was still called Améli and worked as an intern reporter for a cultural newspaper. She had been assigned to write a profile of a rising Korean boy band. At first, she approached the task with near indifference. Then she saw his face, and it seized her with startling suddenness. His eyes, his nose, his lips – his entire body colonized her thoughts.Somewhere during those first months of their relationship, she lost the final letter of her name. It hurt a little, but she chose not to dwell on the pain.

And when her essence finally shook off the l, she became Amé – the quiet girl with the perpetually wandering gaze. Her colleagues thought she was odd, but they simply couldn't understand the devotion her relationship demanded.

Besides consuming every possible video, photograph, and fragment of information about him, she also visited her beloved in her daydreams. But for the magic to happen, Amé required very particular conditions. She would put on her headphones and carefully choose songs to match the scenario unfolding inside her mind. Movement was essential. She had to pace back and forth or dance in order to sink completely into the fantasy.

And, of course, there were the stars.

She would switch off the lights in the childhood bedroom where she still lived and, before meeting him, look up at the faintly glowing star stickers scattered across her ceiling. They were her night sky. Like a princess in a fairy tale, she whispered her deepest wish to those beautiful celestial bodies.

"Please, let me meet him. Let me see him, if only for a moment. I promise that'll be enough. I won't ask for anything more."

Then she would press play, letting music move her body. The stars on the ceiling seemed to dance with her. When it was over, she would collapse onto her bed, drenched in sweat and overflowing with emotion.

Unfortunately, this sacred ritual could only be performed safely in her parents' house, where Amé still lived. The rest of the time, she merely struggled against the crude, unfinished outlines of reality. She existed solely in anticipation of those moments with him.

She lost the e in a particularly cruel way. She was sitting naked in front of the bathroom mirror, still fogged from the hot shower. Her hair was wet as she examined every part of her body. What use was it, after all, if the love she carried existed in another, immaterial world?

Besides, her body was hopelessly imperfect. The fat she had tried to diet away ever since her teenage years. A face marked by the wrong racial features—without almond-shaped dark eyes or flawless honey-colored skin. The unremarkable brown of her hair.

In that moment she felt such overwhelming hatred toward her own existence that she simultaneously realized she could truly belong to him only if her physical form were erased.

She became Am.

"Am, am", like the sound mothers make as they offer a spoonful of purée to a child.

"Am, am", she swallowed the idea of bodilessness and spat out her flesh in disgust. She didn't need it – not in her imagined world.

Gradually, she even abandoned the desire to see the real object of her love. His group would soon be touring her city, and she could easily afford a ticket. But what was the point? Her prayer to the stars had lost its power. No, it was no longer enough simply to catch a glimpse of him. She wanted to possess him – to possess every edge of his soul. Yet she remained just tethered enough to reality to understand that such a thing was impossible.

The realization that she was merely one fan among thousands, a single drop in an endless ocean, brought her unbearable pain. Her emotional capacity wasn't large enough to contain such a corrosive feeling. It was easier to surrender to the temptation of nihilism, which, in her case, took the peculiar shape of an all-consuming self-hatred.

Her dream was absurd, of course, because she herself was insignificant. Inadequate.She repeated it to herself every day.

The final stage of her transformation reduced her identity to a single letter:

A.

Though it was pronounced not as a letter, but as Aaaa – the cry a child lets out after falling, once the stinging pain in scraped knees finally arrives.

But Aaaa had wounded something far deeper than her body. Her indifference toward the world kept her from seeking help.

One night she lay on the floor because the parquet felt pleasantly cool, its hardness offering some small sense of support. She stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars.

She no longer listened to music.

The stars had stopped dancing. 

She wasn't even thinking about him.

She closed her eyes and imagined her flesh being slowly, agonizingly dissolved by acid.At that very moment, she felt a surge of intense arousal.

Perhaps Aaaa was nothing more than the breathless moan of her own bodilessness.

@monthlywritingchallenges

[fivecrazyraccoons]

Handsome Stranger

I made a moodboard for this because I had a vision. Please enjoy

Steve sat in the corner sipping herbal tea. Call him old-fashioned, but he didn’t get the appeal of drinking coffee while the sun was setting. He was only here because Sam was seeing someone new and they had a mutual friend that Sam wanted to set Steve up with.

The bell on the door chimed and in walked the most beautiful man that Steve had ever seen.

Dark brown hair that was intentionally messy, just enough stubble that gave him a distinguished look—Steve suspected clean shaven he’d look ten years younger. He wore a dark navy coat with the collar popped and leather gloved hands shoved in his jean pockets.

As the man turned his head, Steve saw piercing blue eyes that changed shade when they caught the light.

Steve thought about abandoning this blind date altogether when all he could think about was gently grabbing this stranger by his dimpled chin and kissing him. He was halfway out of his chair intent on offering to buy the man’s coffee when the door opened again.

Steve and the stranger both turned toward the door.

Sam walked right up and put his arm around the handsome stranger.

Fuck, he thought.

~~~~~~~~

Day 19 of @monthlywritingchallenges Firefly July: sunset

AO3 link

[fivecrazyraccoons]

A Groan - Brooklyn 1940

“Steve,” Bucky groaned, dragging him by the wrist. Steve used his free hand to swipe the blood from his nose.

They made it out of the alley and back onto the moonlit Brooklyn streets before Bucky released his arm and spoke again.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days. What are you gonna do if I ain’t here to save your ass?”

Steve shoved at Bucky’s shoulder. “I can take care of myself, Buck.” Seeing the emotions threatening behind Bucky’s gray-blue eyes, he backtracked. “‘Sides, you’re always here.”

“I’ll always be here for you, Steve. You little punk.”

~~~~~~~~

Day of @monthlywritingchallenges Firefly July: moonlit path

Part of A Whisper, a Cry, a Yell, a Sigh

AO3 link

[hyacinthpoetry]

Starstruck (Firefly July #26)

The night sky didn’t always have stars

I remember when it was a blank slate

A wall of darkness

An endless expanse

I used to walk through that inky blackness

Following with the others as we circled the light

Tethered to its gravity

But at least we were safe

Day after day, we spun around

Few would stray away, fading into the shadows

But the rest would linger near the warmth of the center

As we should

Many of them would grab at my limbs

Begging me to explore the gloom

But I resisted

For I had those inside to keep me warm

But one day, I faltered.

Her words were so sweet

And I was so foolish

So blinded by love

I fell for her honeyed remarks

Her gilded kisses

Her possessive touches

Her gentle eyes that hid a curse

When she grabbed my hand, I did not resist

We walked out into the void

And the fading warmth was the first thing I noticed

Then came the pain

Her hands, once soft and loving, dug into my skull

She made me hold her gaze, her mask slipping

I could not scream as she scattered my very essence

Creating the speckled sky we’ve come to know

She left me, drifting in the endless sky

I was too weak to find my way back to the light

Stuck with a ring of my tattered soul swirling around me

I was but a shell of my former self

A pair of hands grabbed my face, and I flinched

But the pain never came

He wiped away my tears, his own flesh bearing scars

And even when he trailed stars, he still found the strength to move

Another approached, their soul bared to the world

My gaze followed them as they laid a hand upon my back

Their strength flows into me

And I can feel the warmth returning

Their eyes are filled with tears, just like mine

But they do not judge me

Even when I was weak, they didn’t let me drift away

They led me to a different light, one they created

When I look back, I could see the trail of glowing orbs

But they weren’t just mine

Even in this broken state, I wasn’t lost

Something they helped me realize

I remember when I thought the sky was empty

When I believed that once my body was broken, there was nothing left for me

But the sky is full of stars

Stars born from the pain of others

It’s not beautiful, how they came to be

It never will be

But those stars light the path for the next to come

For those who will one day stray from their light

I no longer orbit around the light

Tethered to a single source I can’t pull away from

They taught me to be my own light

And to share it with others

The wounds will never fade, and the star dust is eternal

But it’s okay, because our souls are beautiful

They aren’t perfect, not anymore

But it’s the imperfections that let the skies sparkle

@monthlywritingchallenges

[cryingtulips]

Dusk at Farmer's Market

@monthlywritingchallenges Fire Fly July Day 2: Golden Dusk

@superbateveryweek Superbat For All Seasons: Farmer's Market

Bruce watches the wheat fields, golden brown contrasting with the indigo sky. He closes his eyes and takes in the absence of police sirens or the smell of lingering trash and polluted smog, instead focusing on the smell of dust and cut hay, and the sound of cicadas overpowering people’s voices.

A warm breeze carries the smell of healthy soil, the sweet and buttery smell of baked goods contrasting with the spiced and savory dishes. The market isn’t as busy as it would be in the middle of the day, but there’s enough of people that Bruce has to focus not to make an irritated face as they yell and laugh across spaces. 

He huffs a breath when there’s a breeze against his side, followed by a smooth hand intertwining with his, sturdy and calming as the sun sets below the flat plains. Clark swings their hands as they navigate around the crowds, letting Bruce dig his nails into the back of his hand as Bruce breathes in Clark’s smoky cologne.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Clark says as they approach a vendor for the Kent Farm, the breeze carrying the cinnamon from Martha’s famous apple pie to them. “It means a lot to Ma and Pa.”

Bruce grunts, and Clark gives his cheek a kiss. “Come on, Mister Grumpy. Maybe some lemonade will make you feel better.”

[monthlywritingchallenges]

Vote for your next challenge

Hello everyone! As every month, I propose you a poll to vote for your next writing challenge :)

Next challenge : August

DustAugust: fading memories, time passing, letting go

TrustAugust: vulnerability, second chances, faith

SunburstAugust: brightness, breakthrough, summer

LustAugust: passion, desire, longing

AdjustAugust: adaptation, change, bending

Voting ended onJul 21

[monthlywritingchallenges]

Just one day left to vote!

[obitez]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

For @monthlywritingchallenges Firefly July, I'm doing Day 17: Summer Nostalgia

Going with a One Piece fic this month as I seemed to have reentered one of my hyperfixations from high school

Snippet below:

The morning started that same way it started most mornings on the Moby Dick, half the crew was sleeping off what they had drank the night before, the other half were trying to get a jump on whatever tasks were assigned to them before the daily chaos on the ship started threatened to interfere with the tasks. 

It was precisely then that two of the lookouts in the top crowsnest spotted something on the horizon.

“Oh shit, what’s the Navy doing just sprouting up now?” the first watchman said, spotting the familiar outline of one of their ships on the horizon. 

“You got to be joking,” the other guy on watch said, sitting next to him. “We just fought off three of their ships last week. Again so soon?” 

The first guy let out a tired sigh. “That’s what I’m saying, usually they wait another month before trying to take us again.” 

“Maybe they’ll decide to just move on when they see its us?” the second guy said. 

“You talking like that is why you’ve been up here for the last month,” the first guy said as he brought his binoculars back up to his face and got another look at the Navy ship, now not exactly on the horizon anymore. “But based on the way they are pointed, I’d say that ship is coming directly at us.” 

“Ah, fuck,” the second guy cursed as he turned around and leant over the side of the crow’s nest. He yelled down to the men on the deck below them, notifying all of them of the ship coming up. 

Marco picked his head up at hearing that there was a Marine ship on the horizon, letting out a small curse as he spread his flames out into wings and flew up to the top of the main mast. 

“What do we have?” he asked the two watchmen. 

The first guy pointed at the Marine ship now quickly approaching them. Marco took the binoculars from him and held them up to his face, trying to see which Marines exactly were coming to them. 

It only took a couple more minutes before the Haki signature came across loud and clear. 

Monkey D. Garp.  That man had a very distinct Haki signature. Marco didn’t even need to catch a visual sighting of the Marine to know that it was him. 

Damn. 

What was Garp doing coming to them like this? It had been nearly a year since they had had any sort of run in with the vice admiral, yet it appeared that today he was seeking them out. 

Why? 

The Main Moby hadn’t even been to any ports in months, not since they took Ace on board. 

Marco had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut that this was something to do with Ace. From all of the little stories Ace has told so far though, he hadn’t mentioned anything about the Vice Admiral though, had he? 

Even though the Navy warship was still a ways away from the Moby, it didn’t stop Garp from jumping over and landing on the top deck of the Moby Dick. Instantly, everyone on board was on guard, drawing weapons and getting into fighting positions. Marco jumped down from the crow’s nest, coming to stand in front of the Marine. 

“I’m only here for one person,” Garp said as he looked up at Marco and gave the pirate a glare. There was a silent fire in the Vice Admiral’s eyes. Marco squared his shoulders and returned the glare. “Where is my grandson?” 

[fivecrazyraccoons]

A Whisper - Wakanda 2017

Steve absentmindedly twirled Bucky’s hair around one of his fingers. He wished painting would do the beauty of Bucky’s face justice.

Bucky smiled back and shifted closer. He laid his head on Steve’s pillow, face inches from his. “Do you remember the nights we shared a bed because we could only afford one?”

Steve chuckled. He pressed his hand to Bucky’s chest—over his heart—just like he used to when he couldn’t sleep. “Of course. Imagine if we loved each other like this back then?”

“Oh, Steve,” Bucky whispered. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I didn’t know it.”

~~~~~~~~

Day 17 of @monthlywritingchallenges Firefly July: summer nostalgia

Part of A Whisper, a Cry, a Yell, a Sigh

AO3 link

[ginko-ginkgo]

Firefly July Day 6: Summer Thunder

Johnny's voice jittered mechanically as V's vision focused, a red haze surrounding the seven outcast nomads before them. It wasn't often they left the city, but Hellman, the scientist working on the chip, was flying through a dead zone nearby, and V needed to talk to him. And to do that, they needed Panam's help, which would apparently only come with this truck.

One raffen wandered off to the left, watching the road; three stayed among their cars, and the last three surrounded Panam's car on the far right. It was a job like any other, barely noteworthy for the dusty, dark setting, and they settled into the easy almost-autopilot of the hunt: flag all seven, ready quickhacks, plan the rout of attack . . .

"The show starts - now!" Panam's choppy voice broke through the haze, and V flipped the breaker.

The world lit up, and sped back to real time as V's eyes deactivated. As the town lit up, the raffen ran left, looking for cover, and V prepped a grenade, lobbing it at their heels. Grainy red filled their vision again as they short circuited the three strongest, the quickhack latching onto their systems in seconds. One began tracing the hack, while the others crouched behind various cars and blockades.

A second grenade dropped two of them, their red glow fading, and one last electric jolt followed before V darted across the gap, rolling behind the other side of a blockade. A second later, the furthest raffen popped up, sending a spray of gunfire across the street.

'Too little, too late, fuckers,' V thought, catching the nomad with a quickhack. Three down, four to go.

The raffen on the other side of the blockade stood, raising a heavy rifle, and V took the opportunity to slide a neurotoxin-coated knife between his ribs. He grunted, dropping the gun, and V rolled to the side to avoid it before sprinting forward.

"There!" One shouted, standing. Panam's cover fire downed him.

The last two had ducked into the road-side bar, and both rounded on V at their allies' shouts. Red bled around them again as V rebooted both their optics, shooting one in the chest and kicking the other's gun to the floor. Panam rounded the corner and finished the disarmed woman, and V spun, vision lighting up again to ensure they were alone.

In a younger year, the dry heat would've been broken by crickets or frogs, but the town around them was silent save the buzzing of the newly restored electricity and the drip of blood. Panam rifled through the pockets of the mohawked woman, retrieving her keys, and made for her car.

V began collecting the fallen guns.

"Should get a recording when you down Hellman's AV." Johnny materialized in a haze of glitches.

"Yeah?" Their pockets yielded little but ammo and some spare parts.

"You'd have all those suits shitting themselves silly."

"Maybe I will." Suddenly, V tilted their head up. The air had shifted, wind blowing in a new direction and bringing with it the smell of rain. They finished grabbing the parts and did a final sweep, jogging for the car.

The passenger side door was barely shut when it began to pour. Sheets of rain battered down on the truck as Panam pulled away from the gas station, rippling down the windshield and pattering on the roof. Behind the forest of windmills, the clouds flashed, once, twice, streaks of lightning splitting the rain.

The sky lit up, horizon to horizon, a wall of blinding white. For a second, the truck lit up, throwing Panam's profile and tight curls into sharp relief. Then the roar of the thunder struck, almost physically rolling through the car. The radio cut to static for a second, the windows rattling. Panam reached up and popped the roof.

They sped through the California desert, Johnny smoking scentlessly in the backseat, radio on low occasionally dropping back into static. Panam was going on about Nash and revenge, but V was more interested in the warm rain slanting through the popped roof and playing over their arms.

"Let's go run the goods first, huh? Deal with traitorboy after. We got the truck, finish biz while the night's young. 'Sides, this storm's lookin bad."

Panam cast them a look. "Are you even listening?"

Johnny chuckled in the back seat. "She got you there."

"Of course. Revenge, betrayal, revenge," V smiled winningly, "We've all been there. It's practically on the way."

Panam rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. V checked out of the phone call, focus back on the rain-clouded sky beyond the windows.

She felt Johnny materialize behind her. "You know, you can roll the window down." The note of amusement in his voice did little to phase V.

"What, looking to get me wet?" Johnny huffed and disappeared. The low hum of the motor blended well with the drumming rain, and soon water cascaded into the car, pooling at their feet and dripping out the sides. Panam made an annoyed sound but made no move to stop V as they stuck their head out, watching the desert pass by.

\\

@monthlywritingchallenges

[ginko-ginkgo]

Firefly July Day 5: Lantern Light (pt.1)

Waterfalls, as it turned out, got very dirty very quickly. Really, it made Eve concerned for the state of her lungs. If whatever was in the air could turn a self-feeding waterfall that grimy that quickly, how grey and disgusting must their lungs be?

It was disappointing, really. She'd been excited to set up a stream of clean water, which, on top of looking pretty and sounding nice, could splatter into little pools for people to wash their faces and drink from and stuff. They could have grown little plants, and got some lilypads, and added some greenery and nature and stuff to the place . . .

"I am Groot."

And Groot could've stuck his branches into the water and grown pretty flowers . . .

Groot stuck his head into the water.

"How many times do I have to tell you; don't drink fountain water, you idiot! That's disgusting." Rocket, never far from his friend except when he was, appeared predictably beside her.

"Yeah, put your feet in it and grow some sea grass. God, Groot." She sighed, theatrically.

"What are you trying to do here, anyway?" Rocket was doing that thing where he tried to pretend not to care but he secretly cared a lot. What a tsundere.

"I wanted to make a waterfallllllll," she whined, "And little pools and plants and a brook and trees and dappled sunlightttttt."

"There isn't even sunlight here, there's no star." Rocket pointed out.

"I read it, in a book. The sunlight dapples when you have trees." She stomped her foot, and flowers sprouted up around it. "And look how dusty and terrible the ground is. One erosion and the entire place will fall apart! In a landslide! And we'll all die!"

"I am Groot."

"Exactly!" She gasped and stomped her foot, turning to Rocket. "YOU can help me! Make a river!"

Rocket groaned, pretending to be put upon (she hoped).

"Pleeeeeeee-"

"I am Groot-"

"-eeeeeeeee-"

"Okay, alright, I'll do it! But only 'cause you need more fresh water!" He pointed an accusing finger at Groot.

They both cheered.

------

Eve was lucky she was no longer doing the project, because it turned out adding a river to a skull floating through space was kind of difficult.

Which was bullshit.

Rocket seemed to actually be enjoying the project, Groot faithfully at his side, and had recruited the help of Cosmo the space Laika. Drax kept dropping by to "help" (argue with Rocket) followed by an excited Mantis and a watchful Nebula. Eve was convincing her to draw different Earth plants, and while doing so, unstealthily playing different Earth music. It was no surprise she'd hated Peter's music, of course, because he only had stupid old music, but she had a broad and updated repertoire that would surely bring her over to the dark side.

Unfortunately it was looking like she liked classical music.

Peter, of course, was off smooching his girlfriend like some sort of disgusting loser.

She was already planning what projects to masterfully manipulate her friends into doing next. She wanted to have seasons, and lights that made heat, and snow, and butterflies, and birds, and some cats. . .

One of the things she missed most from Earth was birds. You never really saw them, except you did, constantly, and it was only when you didn't that you realized they were gone. There were always crows everywhere, and raptors and hawks of various kinds, and little house sparrows everywhere, and they made so much noise, especially in the morning. Ships, when their engines were off, could be dead silent. The air didn't hiss through any vents. The wiring was good enough not to buzz. The lights never whined, there were no fridges to hum, air conditioning never activated. Clocks didn't tick. There were no birds, and no bugs, and usually no other animals. When the ship was crowded enough, you could hear everyone else breathing, but that was muffled into nothingness in just a few walls. Her main hobby had been wiring more and more speakers into her walls, to play her pilfered CDs or her mp4.

Knowhere, of course, didn't have that issue. Not only were there people up 24/7, but the walls were thin and shitty, and let lots of noise through. No matter where you went, you could constantly hear talking and laughing and yelling, and usually some music. And NOTHING ELSE. It was better than silence, but GOD was it annoying!

However, with the completion of this project, there would be water noises. And after that, there would be birds. Or frogs. Croaaaaak.

------

Knowhere had much cleaner drinking water. New pipes had been laid after the discovery of some lead ones had freaked Eve out, they had constructed a singular, very short water tower, there were new filtration systems, they were chemically treating it . . .

They also had gradually cleaner air. Large fans pulled air through filters; sections of colony space were sealed in huge domes, made of glass panes, which looked like bug's eyes; they had begun dampening the mining areas and the transport drones to keep dust from floating everywhere . . .

They were even composting. They were collecting food scraps and then putting them in a pile in the dirt. Like hippies!

And they had NO RIVER. Eve wasn't one to complain, really (she was). But all that was coming of her sole hope and dream was that one, deary waterfall. And it didn't even have a small pond below it! It fell into a tank and then was cycled back up on the same system she'd made. The water had cleared up a bit, she would give them that, but it had mostly just settled at the bottom of the tank. Where there was a layer of black grit. It probably wasn't even clean enough to go swimming.

------

Drax was making fun of her again. Apparently, all of the renovation projects were actually for the river. The clean water meant that the water in the stream wouldn't poison the plants (or people). The air filters meant that the waterfall wouldn't instantly get polluted by pulling smog out of the air. The composting (which was not done on colony planets, usually) was making "nutrient rich" and "healthy" soil (could soil even be healthy?) which apparently wouldn't turn to dust the second you looked at it wrong.

Mantis was talking excitedly about alien tomatoes.

They were all following Rocket, Groot, and Nebula, who were excitedly (in their own ways) leading them through some back alleys into a construction zone that had been fenced off for like forever. Peter and Gamora were, again, snogging in the back.

Then Groot raised the last flap, and Eve beheld a wonder! Beautiful beyond compare, azure blue surrounded by black cascades, stunning, magestic . . .

\\ (2)

@monthlywritingchallenges