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!

[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

[ginko-ginkgo]

Firefly July Day 5: Lantern Light (pt.2)

Loki of the Yiggdrisil was sitting on a rock on the other side of the flap. He was in his Joutun form, and his blue skin glowed in the fluorescent lighting. Their hair was braided up intricately, which must have taken him literal years, and it was covered in pearls or something white and glittery. He smiled down at them.

Rocket grumbled and led them around the rock.

On the other side, short, scraggly cliffs obscured the neighboring buildings. Significant amounts of moss and bushes covered the lower half, and in the back, a thin waterfall splashed water that was actually clean down into the pond below, which was also actually clean.

"Wow."

Rocket, who had turned to see their responses, threw his hands up in the air. "Wow?! C'mon! You know how long I spent on this? And a 'wow' is all I get?"

Peter laughed, pushing his way to the front of the group. "It's awesome, buddy. Really. Could do with a little mood lighting, but . . ."

"I am Groot!"

Rocket snarled. Loki, watching them amusedly, twirled her fingers. Green seidur swirled around his fingers, and the fluorescents backlighting her faded into darkness. It spread outwards, dimming headlights, bar signs, and probably other stuff. Then they dipped a finger in a nearby puddle, and wrote "MAIYIR" on the stone.

Around the lake, hanging from curved poles or the cliff face, little wrought iron lanterns appeared. They filled the clearing with a warm glow, light reflected off the rippling water and the spray glittered. It was very pretty.

Peter and Gamora were whispering together like losers.

Eve made eye contact with Rocket, and the raccoon grinned toothily. He leapt at Peter's face while Eve rushed at Gamora. Peter, very uncoordinatedly, immediately fell into the water. Groot snatched Rocket out of the air before the drops could land on his fur. Gamora, unfortunately, was somewhat competent, and Eve could not push her into the water. She smiled down at her, and then, while Eve fruitlessly pushed, pretended to slip and fall backwards.

Peter shouted in alarm and attempted to catch her. Unfortunately, his coordination had not magically improved, and he slipped on some algae or something, and only managed to get knocked back into the water below her. What a skill issue.

Rocket cackled from his perch on Groot, and Mantis laughed, hitting Drax's arm. "She fell into the water, and when he tried to catch her, he fell again!"

"Yes," Drax agreed, "He is very clumsy." He addressed Loki, "Is your brother here? I would like to see him again. He is a true man."

Loki made a disgusted face. "Not you too!"

Eve giggled and crouched down, huddling over a lantern. The shadows from the bars wavered and danced over the water, which ripped from where Gamora, Nebula, Groot, and Peter were splashing and throwing each other. The flames let off a soft heat, and she rested her cool fingers against the metal, soaking it in.

A swirl of magic behind her announced Loki's presence. They leaned over her, sheltering her in the shadow of his cloak. A gentle hand ran over her hair. "Happy Solstice, darling."

She smiled and leaned back into her, and together they watched the lantern slowly burn away.

\\ (1)

@monthlywritingchallenges

The runic spell Loki uses does not, in fact, say "MAIYIR," Eve just doesn't know what they are. It says "ᛚᚢᛋᛁ-ᚴᛁᚱ," which reads "Lýsi-ker," which is an Old Norse word for lantern.

[fivecrazyraccoons]

Steve’s Midnight Treat

Rating: explicit

Steve didn’t know when they had gone from stargazing to making out in the grass, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

There was heat in every kiss and every touch. Steve felt Bucky’s teeth nip at his lower lip and he held back a low moan.

He suddenly needed to touch all of Bucky’s skin. As he slid his hands up Bucky’s shirt, caressing warm smooth muscle, he crawled down Bucky’s body.

He unbuttoned Bucky’s pants and pulled his cock out, licking his lips in anticipation. His own personal midnight picnic.

Bucky gasped as Steve swallowed down his cock.

~~~~~~~~

Day 15 of @monthlywritingchallenges Firefly July: midnight picnic

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[fivecrazyraccoons]

Pocket Full of Treasure

Steve didn't know that Bucky kept his sketches.

From the early days of misproportioned features to the experimental phase of contemporary style to the more refined work during his stint in art school.

The nose here is wrong and those look nothing like your cheekbones, Buck and I messed up your jaw here.

Bucky didn’t see the mistakes. He kept his hidden collection of Steve’s sketches folded up in a coat pocket. He wasn't sure why he kept them; he wasn't that vain. But he had trouble throwing away something he'd watched Steve pour so much love and effort into.

~~~~~~~~

Day 14 of @monthlywritingchallenges Firefly July: pocket full of treasures

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[bruderup]

@monthlywritingchallenges firefly july day 15 - midnight picnic

---

It was past midnight. Ronald was barely able to sleep, and neither could James, so they just sat there, enjoying a tea picnic for no reason. Ronald sat down on the cold concrete right next to James and out of nowhere, asked, "Sir, if you don't mind me asking... do you think you’re going to Heaven or Hell?"

James let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Hell, definitely."

Ronald blinked, he hadn't expected James to answer with that. "Really? After everything you've done for the Republic?"

"I’ve signed papers that sent hundreds of men and women to their deaths, Ron." James said, his eyes staring up at the moon and the night sky. "No matter how good the reason was, a man like me doesn't get a pass to Heaven."

[fivecrazyraccoons]

We did it, Nat

“You know I wish there was a way that I could let her know. That we won.”

“We did it.”

Clint felt the quirk of his lips that didn’t match the feeling in his chest.

He turned and saw the minute shift in Wanda’s eyes, the sad smile that almost crept up on her face.

“She knows.”

He inhaled—the first deep breath he’d been able to take since Vormir—and let it out in a long sigh.

The light breeze along the lake was surprisingly warm for October in New York.

“They both do.”

Clint heard the calm resignation in her voice.

Wanda had lost everything and everyone. But unlike Clint, she didn’t get anyone back.

~~~~~~~~

Day 13 of @monthlywritingchallenges Firefly July: warm breeze I’m a day late and this is definitely not the vibe that this challenge was intended for but here we are.

This is because @ghosthan suggested “warm summer funeral breeze” to fulfill my prompt for yesterday.

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[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