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starbuckie · 3 years

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𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬

challenge: winter warmers writing challenge by @spaceodditybarnes

prompt: “it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas” by michael buble

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2k without lyrics, 2.1k with lyrics

warnings: i genuinely don’t think i can say anything besides FLUFF, oh wait theres some mentions of the shmexy sex (i promise im a functioning person)

summary: in which they take a little holiday stroll and talk about what they are.

a/n: THIS MADE ME VERY HAPPY THANK YOU FOR HOSTING THIS CHALLENGE JADE!!! i kinda veered off the idea of christmas with this one, but my mind created another idea and i kinda just went with the flow. anyways, i really enjoyed writing this one, and i hope you all had a lovely holiday season <3 LOTS OF LOVE Y’ALL

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go

Take a look at the five and ten, it’s glistening once again

With candy cane and silver lanes that glow

Snow sprinkled to the buildings and sidewalks of Midtown Manhattan, making the traffic clog up to the oh so lovely sounds of taxis and cars honking. It was far from what people pictured it, really, New York was absolute hell during the holiday season. Sloshing boots and teens smoking pot outside the scantily decorated discount store that held very little, sad-looking Christmas lights.

It didn’t bother Bucky. No, he had never been a big fan of the holiday season. Even back in the forties, with his ma and little sisters, they had never been huge on celebrating Christmas, instead choosing to work those shifts during the holiday so they could make a buck or two more to hold them over. Now in the twenty-first century, the holiday just reminded him how truly lonely he was, everyone and everything he used to know long gone.

But then he found Y/N. Granted, it had not been a formal introduction. The poor girl had nearly damn run him over with her motorcycle for Christ’s sake, but nonetheless she crawled into his heart that cold December morning two years ago, and had not left ever since.

Now she walked by his side at Rockefeller Center, her cold fingers intertwined with his warm ones, admiring the tree while he admired her. He already had every part of her memorized, from late night escapades in the sheets to studying the slope of her nose at team breakfasts. Even when he wasn’t with her, he was always looking at her, unable to pull his eyes away from Y/N’s radiance.

This little… dalliance of theirs had only started a year back, and they had still yet to put a label on it. Sam had called it friends with benefits, Sharon called it being a couple without the name. Bucky had shut both of those ideas down, claiming that they were taking it slow and weren’t looking to call it anything yet they still had not really talked about it. Was it really worth ruining the bond he had with the girl he fell madly in love with? Whatever it was, they had never taken time out of their day to actually discuss what they meant to each other, but, God, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t want to know.

“Bucky?” Her sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts, the glittering red and white lights of the Christmas tree reflecting in her eyes. “You seem kind of distracted right now, sweetheart, are you bored? We can head back to the compound if you like.”

He smiled at her worried tone, delicately kissing the tip of her nose. “‘M just thinking, doll, wanna stay as long as I can out here with you.”

The grin he received in return was breathtaking, her red-painted lips turned upwards and a little twinkle (literally and metaphorically) in her eyes. “Good.”

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store

But the prettiest sight to see, is the holly that will be

On your own front door

“Oh, look at that helicopter, Buck! That’s so cool!” Y/N pointed at a little boy in the store controlling the airborne toy with a small remote. “They didn't have those when I was a kid, I just had my Tamagotchi.”

He scrunched his nose, staring at her with an emotion that could be described as nothing other than distaste. “What the hell is a Tamagotchi?”

“A Tamagotchi was like this little digital pet thing that you could take care of, mainly used for kids who were trying to prove to their parents that they could take care of a real pet. That’s why I had one at least, but I never did get a tabby cat like I wanted.” Y/N continued to ramble about her weird pet thing as they walked through the toy store, though Bucky didn’t really care. But he’d never stop her either. The way her eyes lit up in childlike wonder and her fascination with the toys on the shelves was too precious to destroy. This was the girl who he had seen slit throats and blow aliens’ brains out, and in the moment she was ogling an American Girl Doll like it was the last pancake at the breakfast table.

Y/N finally convinced herself that she was done looking at the toys, claiming that she was too mature for such things (she really wasn’t), but he let her lead him out the door, before she halted right in the doorway. “What is it, honey?”

“Mistletoe.” He glanced up at the little sprig of green and red berries above their heads, hanging by a small strand of twine. A small group of kids with families stood around, watching them with both happy and annoyed faces. How could they not notice Y/N L/N and Bucky Barnes? Bucky’s vibranium arm may have been recognizable, but Y/N’s cheery, a little-louder-than-normal humming had caused a little group to watch them throughout the store. “I think they’re waiting for us to kiss, Buck.”

She leaned into him, placing her lips on his and placing her freezing hands on his cheekbones. Though Bucky had never been big on PDA, the rest of the world seemed to slip away when he was with her. He grinned into her lips, hugging her tightly around the waist so she squealed. When he forced herself away from her intoxicating mouth, she was sporting a bright smile and smudged lipstick that had rubbed off onto his.

Giggling, she took her thumb and swiped off some of the red residue she had left. “You had a little something there, sweetheart.”

A pair of hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots

Is the wish of Barney and Ben

Dolls that’ll talk and will go for a walk

Is the hope of Janice and Jen

Bucky watched Y/N point out all the different street cart vendors as they walked to Radio City Music Hall. She’d insisted that they go look at the window displays there as well, and who was he to argue? Strangely enough, they hadn’t talked much, other than the occasional “are you cold” from Bucky, to which Y/N assured him she was not. Her quiet voice sang the lyrics to Last Christmas when a little girl stopped in front of them, two auburn braids and green eyes boring straight into hers.

The small child pulled on Y/N’s skirt, a silent plea to go down to her height. “Hi there, are you lost, sweetie?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” she looked back to an older woman, who gave her a thumbs up and a smile, “because you are my favorite superhero and I hope you have a very good Christmas.”

Y/N nearly melted at the toothless smile the girl, who she assumed was named Sadie by the necklace she wore. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I hope you have a good Christmas too, and do you know this guy?” She dragged Bucky down next to her, the large, buff man hulking over the small girl. “This is my friend Bucky, do you know him?”

He eyed her warily, as if he were absolutely terrified of the tiny human. “You’re the Winter Soldier!”

Uh oh. The name was one that struck a chord of fear through everyone, still in shock of the events that had taken place in D.C. in 2014. While he and Sam had tried to label a new brand for the Avengers, people didn’t forget all the horrors of HYDRA and their prized assassin. Of course it hadn’t been him, even he knew that, but trying to convince people otherwise still made him feel guilty.

“You’re my second favorite Avenger, after Y/N, of course.” Sadie brought her hand to hover over Bucky’s vibranium one, her eyes wide with excitement. “Mr. Bucky, can I touch your metal arm?”

The man in question could barely utter out a word, muttering some sort of agreement before nodding with a timid smile. Giddily, she touched his arm, feeling all the cool ridges of gold-plated vibranium against the gun-grey metal. Sadie continued to pelt questions at him, about Sam and Redwing to his “adventures” with Y/N on the team.

Bucky, though shy at first, got more and more relaxed as they continued their conversation, his grin growing wider. Y/N loved her fans, she loved them so, so dearly, but seeing them interact with the man she loved was something different. Not a bad different, but a word that could only be described as pure joy.

“Darling, I think we better leave Ms. L/N and Mr. Barnes alone. Say thank you and happy holidays.” The little girl looked sad, turning to look at her mom with a little pout, but she reluctantly obliged and soon the duo were off, into the crowded streets once again.

“Y’know once upon a time I had dreamed about having kids,” Bucky commented. They walked along the sidewalks in a comfortable quiet after the encounter with Sadie, but Bucky’s mind had not stopped reeling from the happiness his conversation brought him. “Was gonna come home from the war, settle down with a gal, and live to be at least seventy years old.”

“Well, I can tell you you’re good on the last bit of that, Buck.” He snorted at her jab at his age, something that has become a norm for their little makeshift family of four. “What do you want now?”

He stopped in his tracks and looked over at her with a fond tilt of his lips. “Oh, just something real special.”

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store

But the prettiest sight to see, is the holly that will be

On your own front door

“Y/N, what are we?” She glanced over at him from where they sat on the Met stairs, giving their feet a break from walking for hours.

“What do you mean, Buck?”

He grabbed her hands and held them to his chest, trying to make her understand the amount of confusion and impatience he had with this one burdening question. “We’ve been sleeping together for a year, Y/N. We make each other breakfast, we go out together, I literally have half of my closet dedicated to your stuff, but even after all that we haven’t given us a name yet.”

Y/N sat in stunned silence, staring at the outburst from the man in front of her. To be completely honest she had never really thought about the question, choosing to enjoy each second she got to spend with the wonderful man with her. What she had noticed however, was how whenever they parted ways or were in the most intimate of moments, three little words nearly slipped off of her tongue. Every. Single. Time.

“Well, what do you want to be, Bucky?”

“I want to be the man you love. I want to be the man who loves you with his entire heart, though I like to think I already am. I want you to be my best gal more than anything in the world, and that I want to be the man who gets to hold and love you every night.” Slowly they drifted to each other, a magnetic pull bringing them to each other. “What do you think, doll?”

“I think,” her lips split into a grin, hovering over his own with the exact same expression, “that I want to be your best girl and the one who gets to make you pancakes in the morning and I want to be the one you get a cat with, who we’ll name Alpine because if I know you, names are the most important part of having a pet. I want to be held and loved by you every night, Bucky Barnes, and I am the girl who loves you more than anything in this entire damn world.”

Not another second to spare, Bucky pulled Y/N in close, letting himself get lost in one of her sweet, loving kisses, finally knowing that he was hers and she was his. At long last.

Sure, it’s Christmas once more

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spacesnail3000 · 4 years

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Let It Snow Chapter 4/4: Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Word Count: 7,051

Warnings: Smut, dubcon situations, emotional manipulation, more breeding talk/pregnancy fetish, come marking, oral sex, ABO dynamics and the nasty fetishes that come with it basically

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

A/N: So yeah this was all supposed to be a Christmas fic or at the very least a winter fic but now it’s April so, idk? Lol at least it’s finished, thanks for sticking with me through it. I may write an epilogue but I don’t want to promise anything because I basically have no motivation/time to write these days. Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think!

It was around midnight when Steve awoke, restless, his heart in a flurry about finally having a mate.

Steve traced the lines of her face as she slept, gazing at her with so much love in his heart that it ached like a blow to his chest during combat. She would learn to love him, and she would come to accept their bond. All would come together in time, especially once she was carrying his child, which he intended for her to be by the time her heat concluded.

Since she had passed out after their first mating, Steve had waited for his knot to go down, and then he cleaned himself up and prepared a few meals for when she woke up. He had also ventured out into the shed out back for more firewood before it got too dark. There was a good foot of snow now and even if Steve wanted to drive them home in this blizzard, he knew it would be dangerous—even with the truck.

Good thing Steve was in no rush to get back to the city. Not with a needy Omega upstairs waiting for him.

Her hormones and scent had flooded the entire house now, almost to the point of making him dizzy. As soon as he situated the firewood by the fireplace, he turned back to her, undressed, and crawled back in their nest to lay with her. He was able to sleep for quite a while before he woke up, his Alpha yearning for her so much that it resounded deep in his chest, a constant thrum like an orchestra playing a symphony crafted specifically for them, for their love.

Now there was a flicker of anxious energy, the brass instruments of their orchestra buzzing around in his mind. It presented with the urge to claim her again, to make her his in every way possible. It had been too long since he’d had her, and he needed her, needed to reinforce his ownership of her. She seemed to feel it too, shifting in her sleep, her brow furrowing, lips turning into a pout.

While he didn’t want to wake her up, he could still assert his love for her even while she slept. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

So he began to scent her, rubbing his face on her scent glands, rutting his cock against her thigh and hips and stomach to mark her with his musk even more. One hand trailed down between her legs, where she was leaking his semen, and he pushed it deeper into her cunt with a few thrusts of his fingers.

He kneeled above her then, fisting his cock with the same hand, covering himself in both of their juices, pulling himself off with quick, efficient strokes for one purpose only—to mark her in his come. It wouldn’t be wasteful—the serum allowed him to create copious amounts of sperm, as well as regenerate it quicker than a normal Alpha, so he had plenty more to give her once he fucked her again.

But he needed to mark her in his seed, like a proper Alpha should. It would help her through her heat, help her body come to terms with their bond, with his ownership over her.

Just the thought of his cock knotted deep inside her, filling her up again—it brought him over the edge, and he spilled himself onto her stomach and thighs, countless white stripes across her smooth flesh, glistening in the firelight.

One of his strong hands came down to massage it into her skin, working at it until her skin was sticky and slippery and coated in his essence. He spread his come over her belly, up over her breasts, palming across her bonding glands to wipe his scent on them, and then down to her cunt, where she was visibly glistening with a mixture of his come and her own slick, her body already aroused from her heat, from his scent, from their bond.

He was still hard, his erection having never flagged once since their last knotting, and still antsy on top of that. This time, he wanted her to present for him, but she was still fast asleep and he didn’t want to wake her. His poor Omega was exhausted, and she would need her sleep.

Pushing her body onto her side, he laid down on the bed behind her and maneuvered her knee up and back over his thigh, his own leg thick and imposing stuck between hers. His cock slipped in easily, and he took it slow, rocking her back and forth as he fucked her, almost leisurely, taking his time to caress and kiss every part of her that he could reach.

As soon as he was inside of her, the music in their bond mellowed out into a soothing melody, and she relaxed into him, sleeping soundly now that he was in his proper place.

His hands slid over her abdomen, cupping it in one large hand, and he imagined how she would swell for him, his pups. She would grow so round, the skin taut against her belly, stretch marks decorating it like a painting of Steve’s ownership of her. He would worship her, rub lotion on her stomach, give her kisses all over, every single day.

Then he brought his hand up to her breasts, pinching at her nipples until she was squirming in her sleep. He couldn’t wait for them to grow along with her belly, engorged with milk, sometimes so swollen and painful that his sweet Omega would beg for him to help relieve some of her discomfort when the pups couldn’t. And he would oblige her with delight, happy to do such a service for his love.

Sharp teeth sought out her scent gland, which was swollen and red from his earlier marking of her. As he licked at it, cleaning the dried blood off, and sucked softly to stimulate more blood flow, he felt their bond sparking in his chest, sharp percussion tapping along his nerves, an electrical fire hot wiring his heart alive. Burying his face in her hair at the nape of her neck, he reveled in the feel of her warmth around him, her smell fogging up his brain. She felt like home, so warm and natural and comfortable, his mind completely at ease now that he was bonded with her.

“Sweet, sweet Omega,” he whispered against her neck, digging his nose into her scent gland, smelling the hot swirling tendrils of their bond. He was barely thrusting inside her at this point, more so rocking a gentle rhythm with his hips, basking in the slick heat of her around his cock. “What did I do to deserve you?”

She whimpered, the first crack in the shelter of her dreams, but he continued his slow tempo, his soft touches on her belly and breasts and hips, wanting to ease her into wakefulness, gentle, loving.

Her brain had other ideas, startling awake at once, alert and on edge at the feel of someone in her nest, someone she wasn’t prepared for fucking her awake. She jolted in his arms, and he could immediately smell it on her, the fear and anxiety and confusion, all overlaid by the residual desire from her heat. For a moment, she struggled against him, and Steve slid his hand up her collarbone to cup her throat, using a secure hold to press her against his body.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear, then lapped at her bond mark again. “You’re okay, you’re safe, I’ve got you—”

“Steve?” she asked, voice thick in her throat, confusion increasing with her resistance as she tried to remember what happened. It tugged at their bond, harsh and unpleasant, and Steve scraped his teeth against the bond mark to spark the memory of it in her. It worked—she shuddered against him, the mixture of his hand on her throat and his pheromones flooding her senses forcing her to relax into him despite the uncertainty still lingering in the back of her mind. The presence of a strong Alpha taking care of her willed her body into submission, and he purred against her.

“Good girl,” he cooed, fucking into her with more force now that she was awake. She keened, clawing at his hand as it gradually placed more pressure on her throat.

“Alpha!” she squeaked, hips pushing back into him.

“Let me have your body, sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling out and turning over so she was flat on her stomach. “Be a good Omega and present for me.”

He adjusted their bodies so he was kneeling behind her, and she readily went up onto her knees, her head tucked into her arms to support her neck. For a moment, Steve admired the sight of her presenting for him, the slope of her back, the width of her hips, the shine of her cunt as it glistened up at him.

“Steve, Alpha, please,” she begged, heat peaking again without a cock inside her to appease her. As she tried to push her hips back, Steve held her still, wanting to take this at his own pace—although he loved it when she begged.

“Now, now, Omega,” he said, patting her ass firmly. “Your Alpha knows best. Trust me.”

She whined, and he could see her body tremble with anticipation when he ran the tip of his cock through her slick, but she didn’t say anything else. Satisfied that he had her submission in his pocket, he pressed in slowly, making her feel every inch of him as he penetrated her. Her whine tapered off into a shuddering moan, and it became almost a sob as he bottomed out deep inside of her.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she began to chant as he began to fuck her fast, his hips slapping against hers and echoing around the bare room. He admired her from behind, the arch of her back, her hands clawing at the pillows. Running his hands over the swell of her hips, her ass, he drew one hand back and spanked her with enough force to have her gasp and cry out into the mattress.

He kneaded her ass, pulling her cheeks apart and staring at his cock pistoning in and out of her. Their combined liquids frothed at her entrance, all around his cock, from the speed at which he fucked her, and he couldn’t help but to run his thumb across where they were joined, collecting the liquid, and then lean forward and shove his finger in her mouth.

She moaned around it and eagerly sucked it off, and Steve almost came right there from her blind heat-induced enthusiasm.

He changed his pace, now deep and slow, taking his time to feel every part of her. He was so deep inside of her and as he supported himself with one arm, he brought the other down to her stomach, cupping it and feeling her, imagining the day it would swell for him. She would make such a pretty little mommy, so sweet and perfect, making the perfect home for them, for their family.

Her whimpers filled the space, turning into high pitched moans as she lost herself again to the pleasure he graced her with.

“You love this, don’t you sweetheart?” he growled in her ear. She nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. “Tell me, Omega,” he commanded her, voice deep. “Tell me what you feel.”

The first few sounds to come out of her mouth when she opened it to respond were not coherent words, but punched out moans as Steve fucked into her harder. “Oh, oh, God—” she cried, but settled down as Steve repeated his command directly into her ear, using a deeper Alpha voice, the voice of the Captain, one she couldn’t help but obey. “You’re—” she gulped down a moan, “So, so big… So big inside me, and deep, Alpha. So, so good—" Her words trailed off in a whimper. “Want your knot, please, Alpha, please—”

Steve grunted into her ear, his body practically flattening hers to the mattress as he fucked her harder, the urge to knot her too strong. He brought his hand down to rub at her clit, fingers sliding easily against her skin from all of her slick. “Love it when you beg me, baby, love you so much—”

“Alpha, Alpha—need your knot—”

“Tell me you love my knot Omega, tell me you love it—”

“Love it so much—need it—need you—” Her voice weakened to a squeal as her orgasm consumed her, burying her face into the pillow and shuddering underneath Steve’s hulking frame.

At the feeling of her cunt squeezing so tight around him, Steve roared out his orgasm, his knot swelling into place and locking them together, coming so deep inside her that he could feel her cervix pressed up against the head of his cock, everything so sensitive and soft inside.

“That’s right, sweet Omega,” he cooed, grinding his cock inside of her and grinning as she mewled, “So deep inside you, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

She nodded and whimpered again, soft little sounds coming from her throat. Steve flattened his body over hers, providing a calming presence, sucking and licking at their bond until she shifted under him, at which point he turned them back to their sides and cuddled her against him with strong arms.

“Love you so much,” he whispered in her ear. She was still dizzy with pleasure, his knot pressing against her in all the right ways every time he pressed his hips into hers. He could feel her happiness and wholeness in their bond, the way she ached from how good it felt, the fogginess in her mind that remained from her orgasm.

Her heat was sated for the time being, and Steve allowed her to doze until his knot went down. At that point, he fetched some food and water for her, and when he came back into the bedroom, he roused her awake with a gentle tone. It was late and she was tired, but she needed to eat something and drink water before she went back to sleep.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, sitting her up and leaning her against his chest. Her head lolled back onto his shoulder, but he nudged her head up and encouraged her to drink from a water bottle. “Just a little more, honey—that’s right, that’s a good girl,” he cooed as she finished the bottle.

Based on how delirious she was, he had decided that the soup would be too messy for her to try and eat, so he fed her small bits of finger foods—dried berries, chunks of hard meat and cheese, and crackers. He hand fed her small bites and made sure she chewed them properly, letting her suckle the remnants from his fingers until she was too exhausted to eat any more.

At that point, he let her snuggle into his chest as she fell into a deep sleep, one that lasted throughout the night.

Steve awoke before her the next morning. He got up to shower, eat, and rebuild the fire, which he had tended to several times in the night. Luckily she hadn’t woken up anymore, and although he loved being inside of her, he knew she needed all the energy she could get for the coming days.

He didn’t bother putting any clothes back on, which paid off when he came back into the master bedroom to see his sweet Omega writhing in their nest, a hand between her legs. He had heard her moans coming up the stairs, but he hadn’t expected such a sight, her hair sticking to her face, glistening with sweat, her other hand clutching the pillow beside her.

“Oh, Omega,” he groaned, his hand coming down to run over his cock, already hard just at her scent, before cupping his sac in his large palm. “My sweet, sweet Omega.”

Their eyes met and she shot up, eyes focused on his cock. “Alpha,” she whispered, high and needy. “Need you, please—”

He chuckled and stroked his fist up his cock. In the back of his mind, he wondered how desperate she was for his knot, what she would do for it.

“Come and get it then, sweetheart.”

She wasted no time crawling over to him, sitting at his feet. There was a frenzied look in her eyes, a sort of wild gaze as she gave herself over to her animal instinct. “Alpha—” she mumbled, but her plea was cut short as he took a fistful of her hair and shoved her face forward onto his cock.

He didn’t enter her mouth, but instead he forced her face to rub against the skin, nose and cheeks rubbing against the skin, lips right at his balls. She moaned aloud, the animalistic display of Alpha affection going straight through her. Through their bond, he could feel her arousal grow stronger. He scented her like this, his musk all over her skin and lips until her mouth was watering and she was mouthing at his balls, yearning for his cock in her pussy.

By the time he took mercy on her and crouched down, she was dripping onto the floor. She practically threw herself on him when he finally kneeled down next to her, knocking him on his ass and tossing her arms around his neck.

She wiggled around in his arms until she was straddling his thigh, pressing her body up against his chest. “Alpha,” she whined, grappling at his neck and chest. Her eyes were glazed over again, mind fogging with the urgency of her heat. “Alpha, please, need your knot, please, I’ll do anything—”

Well, Steve really couldn’t resist it when she begged so sweet for him.

He fucked her right there on the hardwood floor, pure animal instinct, growling and rutting and locking his teeth into her neck as he came, breaking the skin once more and sending her deep into the clouds, her mind dizzy and drugged with pleasure.

Over the next two days, she was so consumed with her heat that he could barely get her to eat or drink anything between their intense sessions of fucking and knotting. As soon as he knotted her, she would be in a sleepy daze until her heat consumed her body again, turning her into a sex-starved maniac. There were several times that he had to force her to consume food or water as his knot was still inside, plugging her up with so much of his seed that he didn’t think there would be room for anything else. Sometimes he had to force her to sleep, too, rather than continue fucking her after his knot went down. Most of the time, the only way she could even fall asleep was with his knot lodged inside of her.

He was a good Alpha, taking good care of her during her heat. It filled him with satisfaction to hear her purring as she fell asleep, belly full of food, pussy full of his knot, completely and thoroughly sated until another wave of her heat woke her up. He kept her warm with the fire, kept her cozy in her nest, and he was there for her whenever she needed him to fuck her. He always knew what she needed before she needed it, anticipating every thought and urge she had, memorizing her mind like the words to a song.

Their bond was strong. He could feel her through it so clearly, and he was sure she could feel him just as well, feel his love for her, his adoration.

Steve couldn’t wait until she was all his. His kept woman, his sweet Omega, barefoot and pregnant, devoted to him and his family. Their family.

On the third day after her heat began, she slowly came back to her senses as the crippling need ebbed away.

“Steve,” she croaked sometime after his knot had gone down. She had been laying against his chest, not quite asleep, and he could feel the haze clear a little bit through their bond. Her heat was still there, he could smell it, but it was waning now.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her, placing a kiss on her head. She stiffened in his arms and that sour scent of confusion crept back up into their bond.

She sat up, gathering the sheet against her chest. “What—” For a long moment she was silent as she looked around, taking in her surroundings. The rumpled blankets on the air mattress, her clothes abandoned on the floor, the stack of newspapers Steve had been keeping himself occupied with when she wasn’t begging for his cock. Then she looked to Steve, eyebrows furrowed, a frown on her face. “Steve—" Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat although it didn’t help much. “What day is it?”

“It’s Monday, darling,” he answered, purposefully keeping his voice even and quiet, trying to exude as much of a calming aura as possible. He could feel the turbulence on their bond, the ripples from her end as she questioned it. He wasn’t pleased at the sudden dissonance, but he also wasn’t surprised by it.

“And—and—my heat—”

“You’ve been delirious with it all weekend,” he informed her.

“All… all weekend?” He nodded and reached for her, but she pulled away. Fingers shaking, she brought her hand up to feel the skin at her neck, the inflamed gland still tender from Steve’s bite. “And you… you m-mated me…”

There had been so many reactions of hers that Steve had anticipated, so many plans he had in his head depending on her reply, and he had practiced so many different ways to respond to the feelings she felt now. He knew, from their bond, that she was confused, conflicted, saddened, angry.

“Oh, honey,” he cooed, understanding laced through his tone, just shy of condescending. “You wanted me to, remember? You begged me to bite you.”

She frowned, a lost little look on her face that made Steve want to gather her in his arms and kiss her. “That’s not true,” she whispered, “I didn’t do that… Did I?”

Of course, it wasn’t true—she didn’t beg for it, but she clearly was missing a few memories from the last few days, so Steve was going to roll with it.

“You did,” he lied, his tone steady and sure. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and she shivered from the touch. “You asked so sweet, too, when you begged me for my mark—"

She jerked away from him. “But Steve,” she hissed, eyes filling with tears as she glared at him, “Obviously I couldn’t really consent to that! To any of this! I was under the influence of my heat!”

A frown fell over Steve’s face, and his hand fell back to his side. He let that feeling sit on their bond—hurt, sadness. She could feel it, he knew, from the way she shuddered. His voice was low when he next spoke, eyes downcast. “So… you didn’t want me to mate you?”

“N-no—”

“You don’t want to be my Omega?”

“Steve,” she whimpered, feeling the tug of their bond in her heart, the primal urge to submit to him despite her reluctance. The bond was not to be underestimated—it tied them both to each other, and no matter if she wanted it or not, it was there. Steve was utterly devoted to her, and that could be felt in every pulse of the bond, overpowering her aversion to it.

And she was a sensitive girl, too—so sweet and empathetic, never wanting to hurt anyone. The first time she said no to a date with him, she told him how bad she felt, how she didn’t want to let him down, but she couldn’t compromise the project. Now, she could clearly feel his love for her. She could feel his devotion. And she could feel his pain, too, he knew, and he could tell it was hurting her just as much as it hurt him.

He would simply have to convince her that it was the right thing for them, that it was meant to be. And, well, if she continued to reject him, reject their bond—he had a plan for that contingency, too.

Steve sat up opposite of her, taking her hands in his and forcing her to look at him. “Sweetheart, I know you’re not sure about this,” he began, pouring as much sincerity into his words as possible. “But I wanted this before it happened. I wanted to be with you before we came up here—and I know you wanted me, too.”

“No, Steve,” she shook her head.

“You didn’t want me? Can you honestly say that?”

“Steve—”

“No, you need to be honest with me, sweetheart. Because I don’t think I was imagining it. The lunch dates, the little baked treats?” He held on tighter to her hands as she tried to pull away, shaking her head. Tears fell down her cheeks but he could feel her emotions sparking in their bond—her guilt, yes, and her frustration, but also her fondness for him. “That time we went to Prospect Park and I bored you to death with all that stuff about the Grand Army Plaza? And then you fed your popcorn to the squirrels—and God, the way you laughed, the way you smiled. It was so precious.”

“But Steve—” He could feel the pain she felt as he overwhelmed her with sweet words. He could feel her warring with herself to give into the bond she never wanted. It was exactly where he wanted her.

“And that time you showed me all of your favorite places around Brooklyn, and I told you about how everything had changed since my time. You were so excited about it all, and then you got real sad, nostalgic. I knew then that you were perfect for me.” He lowered his voice, remembering the day fondly. “And that day I came for lunch and you were crying, and you told me about your father’s death, and I held you as you cried. Sweetheart, I want to be able to do that for you any time you need it—"

She wrenched her hands away, burying her face in her palms, shoulders shaking. “No, Steve—”

“I know you feel something for me,” he insisted. “I can feel it. I’ve always been able to feel it. And I’ve always felt this way about you, too. I was going to ask you on a date after we were finished with this place, even though I knew you probably wouldn’t say yes because you’ve got Tony’s new project to plan…” He trailed off with a well-rehearsed sigh. “But a man can hope, can’t he?”

“You don’t get it, Steve,” she choked out between sobs. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sure, I liked you, I liked spending time with you. But I just wanted to take it slow with you. And now…”

Steve moved forward and gathered her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “Honey, I know. I know. And I didn’t plan for this, either—but we’re in this situation now. If you want to medically break the bond, we can do that, but I’m also open to trying to make the best of it.”

Breaking a bond was possible, but the process was painful and lengthy, involving an injection of shots over the course of a few months to weaken and eventually break the hormonal bond between two people. It was contraindicated in pregnant women due to the potential for damage to the fetus, and there was no way she wouldn’t be pregnant by the end of all this. He felt certain she wouldn’t choose this route—could already feel her aversion just at the suggestion.

Even if she did choose it, he wouldn’t allow it. But he needed her to believe that he supported her no matter what.

Her panic mounted, and she met his eyes. “Steve…” she whispered. “Did you use protection?”

“No, honey, I didn’t. I thought you’d be on birth control.”

Another tear fell and her face crumpled. “I’m not… I’m not on birth control… I don’t like what it does to my body—that’s why I’m not on suppressants, either, Steve.”

Of course, that was another thing he loved about her—that she refused to put any of those modern-day poisons into her body. “I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t know that.”

False hope lit her face up. “Maybe I could get a Plan B pill—”

“Honey, it’s already been three days. And we’re going to be stuck here for another week at least before the weather clears up.”

“The—the weather—it’s still snowing?”

Steve gestured to the window, which was whited out with the snow falling heavily outside. “It’s barely stopped.” Her hope dimmed again, and he could feel her panic rising within the bond. Her breathing turned heavy and soon she was hyperventilating, letting out anxious sobs and moans. Steve took a hold of her again, forcing her head up. “Look at me,” he demanded, repeating her name and the order until she obeyed. “Breathe with me, darling. In and out, okay?” He coached her through miming his breaths until she was following along with him. “Good girl, you’re doing so good,” he praised her. “Just like that, keep breathing like that.”

Once she had calmed down, he drew her in against his chest, stroking down her hair and back to relax her.

“Sorry…” she mumbled weakly. Too weak to fight him off, too weak to question him anymore. Exactly where he wanted her.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I know this is all overwhelming. I know it’s a lot. Just know that I’m here for you. I’m gonna take care of you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay…”

“Let’s just take it one day at a time. The roads should be clear enough by the end of the week that we can head back to the city. We’ll stay here until then, and once we’re back in the city—then we can make the decisions. How about that?”

His meek girl, his feeble girl, although finding herself in an unwanted situation, was not going to fight him on it. She nodded against his chest, bending to his will so beautifully, his sweet, submissive girl.

Steve ran a bath for her and took his time washing her hair, conditioning it, and running a soft washcloth over every inch of her body. He soothed her until she was boneless against his chest, purring and shivering every time he went over any particularly sensitive area—her sides, her pelvis, the insides of her thighs. Once every perfect inch of her body was clean, he got her out of the tub and dried her off with thorough swipes of the towel against her skin, handling her with firm hands that had her nipples hardening and her scent peaking with arousal.

“S-Steve,” she whispered as he sat her atop the bathroom counter. Her small hands clutched at his shoulders as he dried himself off. “Steve, I think my heat is spiking again.”

“I know, darling, I’ve got you,” he assured her, wrapping the towel around his hips. She pawed at his chest, hands scrambling down his waist until he caught her wrists, long fingers encompassing her forearms completely. “Relax, honey,” he cooed, “Be patient. Don’t need you wearing yourself out again so soon, do we?”

“But Steve—”

He silenced her with a few tender kisses to her fingers, her knuckles, her palms. “Shh, baby. Let your Alpha take care of you—Alpha knows best, right?” At his words, his reminder of his ownership of her, he could feel the conflict within her. Her initial rejection of their bond followed by her urge to give into it. To give into him.

She whimpered at the feeling of that harsh, jarring tug on their bond. He felt it just as much as she did, the discord within their souls, and rather than let her dwell on it, he distracted her.

He ran his hands over her sides and tutted. “Your skin is a little dry, Omega. Can’t have that, can we?” Although she didn’t respond, she didn’t refuse him when he pulled out a bottle of lotion from the cabinet. “I’ll get you all fixed up, sweetheart.”

Steve started by massaging the lotion into her right hand, up her arm, and then doing the other arm before working on her shoulders with firm strokes of his fingers. He did her back next, stepping close between her legs and giving her sweet kisses as he blindly smoothed the cream into her shoulder blades, down her spine, into the divots of her sacrum. By the time he started working on her sides, she was trembling in his arms, hands clenched into fists against his shoulders as she tried to avoid pulling him against her or grinding her cunt against his pelvis.

“You’re doing so good,” he cooed, rubbing more lotion onto her neck and clavicles, before his hands wandered down to her breasts. Her eyes fluttered closed as he cupped them in his hands and massaged the lotion in. “Such a good girl for me.” She shuddered at the feeling of his calloused thumbs rubbing across her nipples, and then he continued down to her abdomen, spending a little extra time there admiring the softness, the life that had to be already growing inside. Then her hips, and her thighs, all the way down her legs to her feet, where she giggled and kicked reflexively when he dug his thumb in too hard.

“Steve,” she moaned, legs jolting from her arousal as he kneeled before her, teasing her endlessly. “Please, please, please—”

He grinned against her skin as he kissed up her shin, nipping at her kneecap, before spreading her thighs with his large hands. “Please, what, my sweet Omega? Tell me what you need.”

“Need you,” she gasped as his hot tongue lapped against the insides of her thighs, tasting her slick that had rubbed off halfway down her leg already from her squirming and writhing on the vanity. “Need you, need you so bad—”

“I know it, baby.” He methodically sucked the wetness off until his facial hair brushed against her outer labia. She cried out at that, hands fisted in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp.

“Please, Alpha—I can’t take it!”

He chuckled, lips pressed right against the juncture between her cunt and her thigh, and the deep vibrations of his voice so close to her core made her pulse with need. His palms ran up the length of her legs before stopping right at the apex of her thighs, and he used his thumbs to spread the lips of her cunt apart, having to dig in with some force to prevent them from slipping out of his grip with how wet she was.

“Fuck,” he cursed, looking at her exposed pussy glistening for him, all for him, flushed red from how much he had fucked it in the last few days. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

With that, he wasted no time in burying his nose into her cunt, wanting to scent her deeply before he tasted her. He could still smell himself within her, and he rumbled with satisfaction that he would remain a part of her for so long, his come marking his territory, marking her as his.

The flat of his tongue trailed heavy up her slit, making the Omega keen, clench her thighs around his head until Steve gripped her knees and wrenched her thighs apart. He chuckled as her muscles trembled against his grasp, and the sound vibrated through her cunt and made her jolt in his arms.

Before moving forwards, he drew his head back to admire how swollen it was, flushed and engorged, sensitive to the touch as he ghosted his lips over it. He blew a line of air against her and she cried out, body shaking still. Then he wrapped his lips around it, suckling gently at first before swirling his tongue around, giving her a little nibble when she writhed against him.

Her reactions to him made his cock ache, the way she trembled, grinded her hips against his face. Her whimpers and cries and the way she said his name, breathless, whiny, desperate. “Steve, Steve,” she chanted, hips jumping with the rhythm of his tongue. “Steve, Alpha, please—” When he slipped two fingers inside of her, she went wild, crying, begging for his cock, his knot. “Need it, Alpha, please, please, please—”

It didn’t take much longer for her to come, what with how sensitive she was. He coaxed her slick out of her sweet cunt with his fingers buried deep inside of her, running his tongue around her entrance, around his fingers, licking up the fluids leaking from her. He was drunk off the taste of her, the taste of himself inside of her, the combination of them heady on his tongue like delicious mead, sweet and earthy, like tasting from Mother Nature herself.

She collapsed back against the vanity, her back against the cool mirror, panting and jolting with aftershocks as Steve continued to clean her up. Then he slowly kissed back up her body, placing sticky kisses against her skin until he reached her lips.

Her mouth opened for him on instinct, letting him lick into her mouth and share the taste of them until her mouth was coated in the taste of herself. After her whimpers started ramping up again, he pulled her against him, allowing her to grind her pussy on his abdomen while he caressed her body, plucked at her nipples, brushed his fingers across her mating gland.

“Alpha,” she gasped, pulling away finally. Her juices were all over his stomach and she was dripping onto his cock, impatient as he denied her. “Steve, Alpha, please, the nest, the nest, please fuck me there.”

“Aw, baby,” he cooed, cupping her cheeks and gazing at her reverently. “Of course, my love. Anything for you.”

With that, he scooped her up and carried her back to the bedroom, all the while praising the nest she built. “So soft and cozy, honey, isn’t it? You built it just for us, built the perfect nest for us. Such a good girl, such a good Omega, aren’t you? Perfect for me…”

He trailed off with his mouth on her breast, suckling her nipple after laying her down on the mattress. He was so wrapped up in her softness that he didn’t notice her lining her hips up to his or reaching for his cock until she was lifting her hips and fucking herself onto his cock.

“Impatient today, aren’t you, honey?” He chuckled at her responding whine, but he stopped torturing her, impaling her completely on his cock until he was buried deep within her. She felt like home, she felt perfect, comfortable and natural and warm. She was home for him.

Steve made love to her, whispering sweet things against her lips between sweet kisses, holding her safe in his arms while he moved within her, chasing her pleasure and his own. He worked his cock inside of her, so, so deep, right up against her womb, and the thought made him shudder.

“So good for me, so good to me,” he whispered over and over, laying kisses on her lips and then her cheeks once her mouth dropped open from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. He could feel it on the other end of their bond, pulsating with life and joy and comfort, every single bad thought drained from her mind because of him. He was the only thing she could think of, the only thing in her life, the only one.

And she was his only one. The only thing he loved, the only thing he cared about. Her, and the life that would grow within her.

“My sweet girl,” he rasped, voice catching in his throat. The overwhelming love he felt for her poured out. “My sweet Omega, my love,” he breathed into her neck, up against her mating gland, and she shivered, feeling their bond thrum like different strings of a harp being pulled all at once, a perfect harmony resounding and vibrating within them, within their souls. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing her bond mark. “I love you so much, I’ll always love you—”

She came around him then, sobbing against him, clutching at his shoulders and back with more strength than he would have expected from her, but his mind was blank at the feeling of her cunt fluttering, massaging his cock as his knot grew.

He was so, so close—just a little bit more—just a little. “Look at me,” he gasped, lifting his head to observe her prolonged orgasm. “Open your eyes, look at me, baby—” Once he took a hold of her jaw, she obeyed him, locking eyes with him as she writhed in pleasure beneath him. “Good girl,” he praised her in a low grunt, watching her eyebrows furrow in pleasure just from that. “You’re my good girl, my good Omega—I’m—"

He came inside of her with a groan and his knot locked them together. He remained leaning over her, careful not to put too much weight on her, and kept his eyes on hers. Her gaze never faltered, so full of emotion, and he preened under her watch, proud that he could satisfy his Omega so thoroughly. His happiness leaked into their bond, enough to sate both of them, and he soaked in the feeling of their bliss, their joined souls, his Omega happy. Happy because of him.

He couldn’t wait to fall asleep with her every night in this house, in their nest, with his knot buried inside of her. Couldn’t wait to have her sated and sleepy all the time, barefoot, pregnant, a perfect bundle of joy in her arms, mind blank and undisturbed from the gratification of fulfilling her Omega duties. She would never have to worry ever again.

Steve would take care of her. He would never let her go.

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x Reader #Dark!Steve Rogers #Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader #steve rogers fanfic #dark!steve #dark!steve x reader #ABO #Omega!Reader #Alpha!Steve Rogers #marvel #Marvel fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers smut #Let it snow

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tealin · 4 years

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Castle Rock

As always, if the images aren't showing up on Tumblr, I invite you to visit the post at its original location on http://twirlynoodle.com/blog

There are a number of hiking and skiing trails around McMurdo Station. Some, like the Arrival Heights track, one can do alone and without giving notice; others, like the Castle Rock Loop, go far enough from the station and through questionable enough terrain that one has to check out, travel with a partner, and take radios in case of emergency.

I have become a great fan of the country walk in the UK. You dive into a beautiful morning on a promising footpath, refuel at a pub, keep walking all afternoon, maybe a quick half at another pub, then fall into bed all topped up on nature and exercise endorphins. Having been shuttled nearly everywhere in Antarctica via a motor vehicle of some sort, I was desperate to stretch my legs and cover some of Antarctica myself. I wanted to visit Castle Rock anyway, and the trip there and back was about the length of a leisurely country walk back home, so it was a natural thing to do once all my planned trips were over. My coordinator's opposite number is an avid hiker so he and I set out one sunny morning to put some miles on our sturdy boots.

The track is scenic and adventurous without being too arduous, so the Castle Rock Loop is a popular hike for the locals, as you can tell by the well-trammelled path in the photo above. Its full extent loops down to Scott Base and around back to McMurdo, but the shoreline down there didn't hold much interest and I'd done the route between Scott Base and McMurdo loads of times, so we just walked to Castle Rock and back.

It was a beautiful day. Much like the day I went up to Arrival Heights, it was calm, sunny, and hovering around freezing, the sort of conditions I insisted on calling 'picnic weather' long after the joke wore off. We also had an amazing low layer of thin cloud, which I unromantically call 'pond scum clouds' in my head, rather an unfair name as not only are they sometimes iridescent but they create wonderful light effects on the ground beneath them. On this day they were penned against Ross Island and cast their dappled shadows over Windless Bight, thereby showing up the perspective and giving everything the suggestion of being underwater.

Away from Ross Island the sky was clear, and from up here on the spine of the peninsula you could see pretty much everything, including Williams Field, where I'd spent so much time recently:

There's nothing like a pure white background to show you how much pollution our internal combustion engines spew out – that smoke plume is, I believe, from a C-130 which was warming up to take off that day. It's a lot better than coal, but we've got a long way to go yet.

Humans' rudimentary flying machines are not the only thing to have emitted noxious gases into the Antarctic atmosphere. Mt Erebus still puffs away with the occasional mild eruption, but the Hut Point Peninsula is an artefact of a more active volcanic past. Much of the rock is obviously igneous, black or grey and spongy with bubbles, and most of the hills that stand up from the body of the peninsula are old volcanic craters, which spewed that aerated rock in ages past. Castle Rock is similar in origin, but gets its distinctive shape from having been an sub-glacial volcano, rather than a surface cinder cone. It's not exactly a volcanic plug, like the Devil's Tower in Wyoming, where the central chamber of a volcano solidified into a tower of basalt and the softer layers on the outside eroded away. Rather it is the volcano, having melted its way up through thick ice, which held its sides almost vertical while new layers of lava were deposited on top. This stratification, as well as the way the igneous rock has weathered orange-brown, makes it look more like sandstone than basalt to the casual observer, especially one who's spent so much time in the parks of southern Utah.

It feels enormous when you're standing under it – the name 'Castle Rock' is well-deserved – but when compared to other sub-glacial volcanoes (for instance Tuya Butte) it is but a teeny tiny fairy volcano.

This southeast face is the most precipitous; the north side slopes more and there is a climbing trail up it, should one wish to scramble a bit. It was just on the verge of opening for use when we visited, so we didn't climb. We did take as many pictures as we could, staying on marked paths, but before long it was time to turn around and head back again.

We stopped at a small shelter we'd passed on the way up, which you can just see as a little red blob in the photo above. It is officially known as an Apple , but some refer to it as a Tomato, which it more closely resembles if you ask me. It's an emergency shelter, in case you happen to be doing the Castle Rock Loop when a blizzard blows up, and it is actually rather cosy inside.

Further along the trail, the familiar landmarks of McMurdo rose into view.

That's Observation Hill on the left, and Arrival Heights on the right, with the "Golf Ball" under Mt Discovery in the middle.

As you may be able to guess from the above photo, the slope dips more steeply as we approach the base, and because of this it catches the afternoon and evening sun, and gets very icy. We both had good hiking boots but not crampons, so on the way up had tried to climb by the snowier sections. I was looking forward to sliding down on my coat on the return journey but alas it wasn't quite steep or slippery enough for that – the best I could manage was a slow bum-scoot, which was fun but not exactly efficient. However, it got me close to some funny features I'd noticed on the way up.

My guide explained that they form when a rock gets blown onto the slope. Being dark, it absorbs a lot more heat from the sun than the surrounding ice does, and so melts its way down through the ice, and keeps going as long as it the sunlight can reach it. When the ice refreezes to fill the hole, it reorganises its crystalline structure from the chaotic granules left over from when it was snow, to something that reflects the container in which it was formed. You can sometimes see this radial pattern in your ice cube tray – this is exactly the same thing.

We had been walking on ice and snow all day, which made for a surprise when I stepped back onto the familiar gravel of McMurdo. I have walked on a lot of snow in my life but I suppose I always went from frozen water to frozen ground or pavement. I have not, apparently, stepped from ice to fine gravel so dry that the pebbles haven't frozen together, and my first impression on doing so was that I had stepped onto cake. It was a very strange sensation that took some minutes to shake, but I can remember it even now.

It had been a very good thing to stretch my legs, and getting out in the fresh(er) air with a walking partner who could make good conversation but also didn't mind silence did me some good, to process the whirlwind of trips I'd made in such a short time. In that sense, my own walk to Castle Rock was much in keeping with those who made the hike when waiting for the sea ice to freeze over in 1911 – it was somewhere to go that was well away from the madding crowd in the Discovery Hut, where one could have a private conversation or just catch a bit of peace and quiet. On its busier days, the route is well-enough travelled that one stands the risk of encountering as many people out there as anywhere else, but we got a quiet weekday when everyone else was working. Being a bright day in midsummer, my imagination will have to add the richer hues of the dying light of autumn, but I'm glad I got to stand there in person at least.

If you want more detailed, expert analysis of the geology of Castle Rock, this is the PDF for you.

#antarctica #castle rock #travel #hiking #photos #ross island #mcmurdo station #mcmurdo sound #mcmurdo #views

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tlbodine · 4 years

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An Irritated Review of an Aggressively Bad Book

As a child of the 90s, I cut my teeth on R.L. Stine’s books. Goosebumps in elementary school, graduating up to Fear Street -- with its guts and gore! -- by my tweens. But the time came when I had voraciously consumed all of the R.L. Stine at the library, and I hungered for more books in the same vein.

Which led me to Christopher Pike.

Christopher Pike was another of the “Point Horror” series writers popular through the 80s, and they were an obvious thing to recommend to a budding young horror fan (especially as his books tended to be popular with young girls, thanks to the romantic subplots they often featured). But I just never really enjoyed them. I read a handful, shrugged it off, and eventually moved on to reading Stephen King and other adult authors instead.

Which brings us to this motherfucker.

@comicreliefmorlock sent me a small stack of vintage YA horror titles, because reading ridiculous cheesy teen thrillers sounded like good nostalgic fun.

But this book isn’t the fun kind of cheesy. It’s the kind of cheesy that drives me to start blogging in irritation at 12:57 am. Because this book isn’t just bad, it is aggressively bad, and it says a lot about 1984 and the state of horror fiction and YA fiction and publishing in general that this fucking book launched Christopher Pike’s career.

So let’s talk about this sumbitch below the cut.

The story is about a group of teens who meet up for a ski weekend. The girls were all very close when they were younger, but drifted apart after an accident that left one friend badly burned and her little sister dead. The burned-friend is the one whose family owns this very fancy house and so graciously invited everyone to come hang out.

Our characters don’t really get much in the way of actual characterization, but here’s the cast:

Nell, who has some facial scarring and whose family is apparently loaded

Nicole, the dead little sister

Lara, the main character (ostensibly)

Dana, who likes to eat and crack jokes (funny fat friend solidarity fist bump)

Rachael, the gorgeous blonde beauty rival of Lara

Mindy, who chews gum

Celeste, a shy girl with back problems who they’ve befriended somewhat recently

They arrive and hand over their keys to a park ranger to valet-park their car while marveling at how they don’t really know if he was a real park ranger, because I always give my keys to strangers when visiting an isolated location. Celeste asks some innocent questions about why the group hasn’t hung out recently, and the group neglects to mention the dead sister, but the reader figures it out.

Don’t worry, we’ll hear all about that in a moment. But first there’s a small, stupid mystery about a disappearing snowman, that melted really fast like it was burned and Lara will continue to fixate on this for the rest of the book.

They spend a little time getting settled in before hitting the slopes. Celeste and Nell hang behind despite being the two people at this gathering who presumably don’t know each other, but they hit it off great right away so good for them.

At the ski lodge, they run into a pair of boys that Rachael and Mindy know -- Percy and Cal. Lara falls into an instant and irritating infatuation with Percy for some reason, deepening that rivalry with Rachael. Cal creeps on Dana, trying to grope her when they get a minute alone, but Mindy of course gets jealous of Dana for horning on on her man because of course she does.

Note: The book was written by a man in 1985.

Anyway, at the ski slopes, Dana disappears, and everyone kind of assumes she’s just trying to avoid Cal even when they find one of her skis sitting in the middle of a very mysterious patch of snow that seems to have some ash and ice in it (just like the snowman! gasp!) but it’s probably fine!

Somewhere in here we get an entire chapter told in italics to provide helpful background information about how Nicole died -- which involved a bunch of 6th graders at a sleepover getting drunk from stolen brandy in the liquor cabinet, deciding to hold a seance, knocking over a candle, catching Nicole on fire, and then Lara trying to put her out with the brandy (because it’s wet!) and that of course creates a Nicole-Flambe situation. Nicole is whisked away to the hospital and dies there and Lara is wracked with guilt and so forth and so on.

And scene. Back to the present, where Dana is still missing, they can’t find the ranger who has their car keys, there’s a storm bearing down on them, but of course the most important thing is whether Percy likes Lara better than he likes Rachael. They invite the boys to come over that night.

Dana’s not back at the house, so Lara calls the lodge to ask for them to have her call if she shows up, but otherwise big shrugs about the friend’s disappearance and presumably being lost in the middle of a storm. Celeste is scandalized that they were going to eat cold cuts at a party and sets to dressing and roasting two whole chickens and a bunch of side dishes, which is of course an extremely normal thing for a teenager to do at a party.

The boys show up, and Lara feels kind of bad about not really caring where Dana is, except not guilty enough to do anything about it. Dana, you’re too good for these people, get better friends.

Anyway, they eat and do some drinking then play charades, which Celeste and Nell are eerily good at (hmmmm) and then Cal creeps on Celeste which starts a whole argument culminating in Percy punching him in the face, Cal stumbling backward, and Mindy’s arm catching fire because Nell had bitchily thrown alcohol at her earlier. They throw out the boys and start doing some first aid on Mindy, including dosing her on some codeine that they conveniently have lying around.

Percy’s gotta go, so Lara walks him out in the woods, refusing anybody else’s offer to come with her so she doesn’t get lost because she wants to make a move on him. There’s some painful flirting, some kissing, some talks about pyrokinesis and the mysterious Dana disappearance (and the snowman! that damned snowman!) and also Percy has a flare gun in his pocket for some reason.

Gag. Ugh. But ok, fine, Percy gives her the flare gun, presumably because he’s letting her walk back through the woods alone in a blizzard. She scoops up some of the ice from Dana’s disappearance-spot to bring home for evidence and then goes to bed. When she awakens, the ice has melted and she can see bones! and ash! Ahhhh!

This causes her to panic, so she runs out of the house at 3am into the woods and then, idk, freezes or something. Cal is there for some reason? She conveniently blacks out and awakens to find herself tied up in Nell’s basement. But hey look, Dana’s here! And so is Rachael!

We helpfully learn that Dana’s been tied up in a closet this whole time. Also, SURPRISE! Celeste isn’t actually Celeste, she’s Nicole! (in case this wasn’t already painfully obvious from all of the foreshadowing). She didn’t die after all! She just assumed an entirely new identity! She was just pretending not to know who Nell is!

Never mind that Celeste has parents who we have literally talked to in this book (they briefly call to check on her and Lara speaks to them instead). Apparently Nicole’s family....gave her up for adoption? but she’s still really close to her sister? Or else Lara somehow doesn’t realize that Celeste’s parents are Nell’s parents? Literally no part of this is explained in a way that makes any sense at all.

But anyway, turns out this whole weekend was just an excuse to get everybody together so that Nell and Nicole/Celeste could get revenge by dousing them in kerosene and burning them alive. Like you do.

There’s a lot of waffling and trying to win over Nicole with the power of friendship, and then she changes her mind about the plan but Nell doesn’t, which leads to some dramatic scuffling and ultimately Lara shoots Nell with Chekhov’s flare gun, but it’s totally OK because her expression is “the most peaceful” Lara has ever seen so that’s cool, and then they manage to rescue Mindy before the house blows up.

From there, we’ve just got some loose ends to tie up. We’re rescued by the suspicious ranger from earlier who it turns out actually is a ranger, so that’s cool. How did he find them? Why, that strapping young man Cal tipped him off that they might be in trouble!

You heard it here first, folks. Cal, the guy whose characterization up to this point has been “gropes girls without consent” and “tells funny war stories about napalm” is actually the real hero here! What a find stand-up young gentleman that serial offender is.

Also, again, Dana, you are too good for these people, find new friends.

Anyway, the girls end up in the hospital, where they promise a vow of secrecy but also Lara and Nicole are totally going to be best friends now, no harsh feelings. Also Lara is totally going to hook up with Percy, because that was definitely the most important thing to come from this weekend and she’s definitely not in any way going to be traumatized about any of this.

The end.

distant gagging sounds

#christopher pike #slumber party #books #amreading #book review #bookblr

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eerythingisshaka · 3 years

Text

Ficmas Day #23 “Snow In Manhattan”

[Dr. Manhattan/Cal Abar x OC]

Word Count: 1.4k

Dr. Manhattan finds the holiday season intriguing. With him being a blue god that can control matter in every form, somehow the thought of a white man giving presents around the earth one day a year just didn’t seem to meet his level in his opinion. Santa comes into your house uninvited and just because he lives a gift, he is celebrated, yet Dr. Manhattan is feared just for the potential his power has.

He gets that ignorance is bliss, so it doesn’t bother him that much. The issue he has, though, is the disappointment that people face during the holiday season. The cards and commercials and movies exhibit images of goodwill and compassion for the less fortunate, yet constantly he sees those with more passing the poor by in order to fulfill selfish desires and feed the commercialization of the spirit of the holiday.

However, at one time, he did sense the presence of a human who appeared to have a different heart, not just for Christmas, but all year long. Raye made herself useful to others through community service and volunteer work at a local shelter. Working two jobs during the week, and volunteering on the weekend, she has little time for herself to even enjoy a walk in the park before she is exhausted.

One night, leaving the shelter, Raye says her goodbyes to volunteers and inhabitants alike. Walking to her car, she finds a $100 dollar bill sitting crisp and flat against the asphalt. When she picks it up, she looks around her for anyone nearby.

“Incredible,” Dr. Manhattan says to himself, as she walks over to a woman sitting outside the shelter, handing her the money.

“Take this. It isn’t mine so I’ll let you have. I’m sorry we are at capacity, but make use out of this. Hope it helps.”

“Bless you, baby! God bless you so much!” the woman replies, getting up and walking off down the street.

Dr. Manhattan knew that would happen, however seeing it in real time always felt stronger. A week ago, Raye won a small fortune from a scratch off ticket and wasted no time to take it to a church so that they may expand their food ministry.

Dr. Manhattan laid several ‘traps’ along Raye’s path to test her heart. A regular person would’ve claimed if not one thing, all of them in order to better their own lives and those closest to them. But she refuses every single one to instead pass on to a neighbor.

One day, during a rare off day between jobs, Raye sits on the rooftop of her apartment overlooking the city. She takes a deep breath in her chest, letting out a heavy energy on her heart. This time of year made her the most excited and sad at the same time and when it gets to be too much, being in the air makes her feel the most grounded.

The door to the stairwell opens as a man pops out.

“Excuse me.”

Raye looks back, watching him closely as he meanders across the roof. “Hello.”

“Don’t mind me, I was just looking to get some fresh air. Or is air pollution thicker the higher you go?” He looks at her with bright eyes. His tailored trench coat and turtleneck are out of season for the weather despite wearing them well and not a drop of sweat rolls off his brow.

Raye shrugs. “Maybe, but it’s quieter from the noise below.”

He leans over the wall to check out the traffic quietly.

Raye hugs herself, feeling compelled to commit to small talk. “So, do-”

“You don’t have to speak to me. If you don’t want to.”

Raye snaps her jaw shut, looking away embarrassed.

He leans against the wall, putting a hand over his heart. “I don’t mean to sound rude. I understand I initiated conversation, but I don’t want to disturb your meditation.”

She nods. “Thanks. I’m not great with it but I’ll try if I want to.”

He holds your gaze for a moment, coming closer when he says. “If you could entertain a question: do you have plans for the holiday? Besides sitting up here?”

Raye smirks. “Well, I won’t plant myself here all weekend since I have soup kitchen duty and then toys for tots in the evening.”

“You’re a giver. That’s nice.”

Raye nods proudly. “I like to give my time. It helps not to have an idle mind and hands.”

“Still it would be nice to be with family or friends for a day, right? When do you get that time?”

Raye thinks for a minute on this. “I don’t. I mean I have them, but since I’m so busy, I think they just decided to stop asking me to do things? And I’m fine because they’re right, but it still…” her voice trails off before she fidgets uncomfortably. “Well, I know you didn’t ask to be my therapist, huh?”

He shakes his head, sitting next to her. “No, it’s ok. I like to listen.”

“Aw. Who are you by the way?”

“Cal Abar.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Cal turns to her slightly. “One more question, if I may ask.”

Raye perks up. “Ok, go for it.”

“Imagine your perfect holiday. What does it involve?”

Raye pushes out her lips and closes her eyes to activate her critical thinking brain. “What would I want…” She snaps her fingers. “Snow!”

Cal nods knowingly. “I see. Why such a simple request?”

Raye sighs. “I mean...I don’t live in a snowy area. It’s like 70 degrees but can you imagine if it snowed here?”

“Wouldn’t it be beautiful?” Cal says.

“Yes, but that would be one more obstacle for people I see everyday. Living on the street with ice and snow? I’m grateful that’s one less thing to worry about for them.”

Cal points a finger as if he suddenly thinks of something. “Take a trip! Somewhere snowy for the holiday?”

Raye scoffs. “With what money? I can’t afford a trip like that.”

“That does sound nice.” Cal stands up, pacing in front of Raye. “How about this, close your eyes.”

Raye eyes him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Visualization. If you imagine yourself being there, just maybe you’ll get the effects.” Cal closes his eyes with his hands in front of his face in prayer position. He peeks an eye at her. “Try it.”

Raye closes one eye, until trust takes over the other.

“Imagine the snowflakes falling on your face. Cold wind biting your nose. The crunch of tiny ice formations under your feet as you step.

Raye gets caught up in his storytelling, trying to create the picture he is painting in her head. She feels something drop on her forehead, she touches something cold.

“Whoa, this is kind of working Cal!” Wind blows her face as she opens her eyes and sees slopes of snow in front of her. Raye’s jaw hits the floor in amazement as turns around, unable to comprehend what has happened.

“Cal! Cal, what’s going on!” She takes a few steps forward, kicking the fluffy snow, touching the clumps and breaking it up in her hands. “How is this possible?” Ahead of her, she sees a figure, she assumes to be Cal. Running towards it, the wind whips her face and the knee deep snow makes each step heavier than the last. Once Raye approaches the figure, she sees that it’s actually a snowman.

She walks around it, seeing its carrot nose and coal eyes. “How did you get here?” She touches its face and in a flash she is back on her apartment rooftop with Cal’s face in her hands. She snatches her hand back self-consciously. “Sorry! But what the fuck?”

“You made it back! How was your visualization?” Cal asks warmly.

Raye is taken aback. “That wasn’t a visual, I was in a snowstorm!”

“Eh, a flurry at worst.”

“But I don’t get...How did you?”

Cal raises an eyebrow with a sneaky smirk. “I’ll let you know one day, not now though. Do you want to try again?”

Raye nods. “Yeah! But come with me.” She closes her eyes, feeling the rush of adrenaline through her veins.

“Next time you see me, I’ll be there with you. Imagine the snow again.”

As she visualizes, she doesn’t feel the same immersion that she had before.

“Cal it’s not wor-”

As quick as he came, he was gone. Raye ran to the stairwell calling his name in the building but no one answered.

Dr. Manhattan witnesses her searching for him from afar, coming closer to the main development of their relationship. Once Raye is ready, he will appear again.

#shakafic #ficmas

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serzhantkris · 4 years

Text

Something Worth Fighting For- 12

Summary: You’ve just begun to settle into life as an Avenger when a mission gone awry divides the team in half, and a familiar face shows up just in time to make you second guess your every choice. Third installment of the Worth Fighting For Series.

Words:1267

AN: This chapter has some descriptions of gore. I dont find it too serious, but please use discretion. Also, grab tissues. And it’s a little short, sorry for that, but this stuff needed to stand on its own.

Masterlist

Smoke crawls into the cold Siberian air, staining it with inky blackness. Against the blinding whiteness of the mountains, it’s alarming. Fire consumes the warped, falling metal, and any snow close to the heat shrivels into puddles. Crackling flames echo against the otherworldly silence.

They’re limping away from the building, arms holding each other up, a near futile feat. They lean inward, Steve with his arm around Bucky’s torso; Bucky’s arm over Steve’s neck. Blood drips into what snow is left as they stagger toward the Quinjet.

Steve almost misses the black shape at the edge of the nearby cliff. Blood runs in his eye, but he can make out the figure leaning over the side of the cliff, grasping at something with both arms. “Wait,” Steve mumbles, stopping suddenly. They both almost fall, but Bucky catches himself and follows Steve’s line of sight. The figure shouts, and Steve realizes it’s T’challa.

Bucky’s already let go of him, and both men move so fast, their bodies scream at them to slow down. Steve gets there first, reaching for the figure hanging off the side of the cliff. Grabbing at the thick coat’s hood, his fingers almost slip before he gets a good hold on it.

Bucky has to take a knee, legs refusing to keep going, pain shooting up his leg as he falls onto it. As the other two men haul the person over the side of the cliff, Steve falls onto his side, gasping for air. T’challa is the one to keep the fourth man from running away.

The sound of their breathing, the crackle of the fire, is almost enough to lull Bucky to sleep. Until he realizes, as he’s watching T’challa pin Zemo down on his stomach, that someone is missing.

“Y/N,” he breathes, lungs protesting. “Where’s Y/N?”

T’challa swallows before he looks at Bucky. “I’m sorry,” he says, subconsciously putting more of his weight down on Zemo’s back. “She went over- I tried to catch her, but I was not fast enough.”

There’s the haze of a memory somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind. Falling, screaming. Reaching up to a train that’s speeding somewhere in the distance.

Bucky leans forward, putting both hands in the snow as he tries to push himself to his feet. He wobbles, getting his boots under him. “Buck-” Steve’s voice shakes, but Bucky keeps going. Hands on his knees, he straightens his back, bones cracking as he stands back up. “Buck, she’s gone.”

There’s a pool of blood in the snow, where he slammed down his knee. It’s bright and spreading out, infecting the area around it. “She’s not,” Bucky says. He can’t look away from the spot. “She’s down there. Gotta go get her.”

“Bucky-”

“No!” The scream tears his throat, burns like the fire raging behind them, and he finally looks at the other three men. Zemo stares ahead of him, face pressed against the cold ground. T’challa looks away, anywhere but at the desperate soldier. Somewhere, a bird cries.

“She looked for me,” Bucky continues, taking a step. And another. Guiding himself the way that will take him down the mountain.

Steve presses his lips together as Bucky stubbornly continues, staring at the ground in front of him as he tries to determine the best way down the cliff. “Okay,” Steve breathes, pulling the helmet off his head. He throws it in the snow, ignoring how the inside is painted red. “Let’s go.”

T’challa watches them go, leaning against each other as they clamor haphazardly around the cliff. They vanish into the white abyss, over a hill, and he silently prays for their success as he yanks Zemo to his feet.

It’s colder at the bottom of the cliff. Both men notice, shivering as they weave through dead trees and jagged rocks. Hard breaths create misty clouds in front of them as they move, taking one step at a time, their eyes wild and alert.

Bucky stops to lean against a white tree, the bark rough against his cheek as he takes a breath. Steve is just ahead, close enough to hear but out of sight.

“Bucky.”

Steve’s voice startles him and he pushes off the tree, moving toward the sound. His heart thumps against his chest, hopeful, and he spots Steve standing near a rock formation right where the land begins to slope upward. Steve’s back is to him, and he’s staring into the formation. As he gets closer, Bucky can smell iron, stronger than he ever has. Hanging on one of the branches jutting out from the cliff face, strips of black fabric blow in the breeze.

Red streaks pain the side of the cliff, kissing rocks and branches, leading a path toward the ground. Bucky pauses before he gets too close, steeling himself.

Preparing for the worst.

He moves closer, peering into the rubble. He sees one of your boots, abandoned, blood pouring out of it like a waterfall over a granite stone. His stomach lurches and his eyes follow the trail of blood. Black clothing, stained darker and wet, tears revealing the sticky, crimson wounds underneath. Then your face, your head back so your chin is pointed at the sky. There’s too much blood for him to tell if your eyes are open.

Bucky’s body feels like it’s being torn apart as he rushes toward you. Every second it takes to reach you is a second too long. He trips over part of a tree, barely catching himself in the snow. A rock slices open his right hand, the other screeches loudly as it scrapes the stones. He crawls, ignoring the burst of pain when his knee pops against a rock.

Your skin is cold, the blood smearing on his fingertips as he puts his thumb in front of your lips. Not the slightest puff of warm air kisses it. He shifts, his hip hitting the hard surface under him as he leans down and presses an ear to your chest. He can’t hold back the desperate, pitiful whimper that passes through his lips.

He sits up, just enough to look at your face again, his hands grabbing at your shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, if he shook you-

“Bucky.” It’s Steve’s voice that cracks this time, as he carefully maneuvers over the rocks toward his friend. “Buck, you gotta let her go.”

He’s crying. That ugly, pathetic sound that drags claw marks down the inside of his throat, the tears leaving clean stains on his ash and dirt coated face. He’s got you in his lap, lips pressed against the crown of your head, hands grasping at your jacket. Like if he holds your body tight enough, it’ll keep you from being gone.

A murder of crows bursts from the branches of a fir tree when he screams.

Steve has to look away, holding himself steady against a tree.

Snow crunches behind him, and Steve squints against the blinding white to where T’challa stops just a few steps behind. The men exchange solem looks, and Steve clears his throat to speak when Bucky calls his name.

Bucky’s looking at his lap, where one of your hands is clutched tightly in his. “Sh-she moved.”

T’challa moves past Steve, carefully climbing toward Bucky. “Let me take her,” his voice is hoarse, barely a whisper, as he gently scoops you out of Bucky’s lap. “Let me make this right.”

The king carefully cradles you against him as he starts back up the mountain. Bucky grips Steve’s shoulder as they lean on one another once more, following him toward the Quinjet.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky

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thedovahcat · 7 years

Text

Outrider (FINAL)

PART 2 HERE

Plumes of black smoke rose over the frosty rooftops. The moon shone brightly in the night sky as it always did, but its light seemed ominous.

Fire witches and the Pontiff’s silver-clad knights walked the streets in groups, on the lookout for any that weren’t fit to remain in Irithyll. Over time they had become beasts, with long limbs and claws, and they practically grew taller day by day.

Why was it happening? Vosler said everything would be all right… He said the Pontiff claimed everything would be fine…

What OF the Pontiff anyhow? Where was HE? Locked away in the cathedral, away from all this?

The thought of their lord ignoring the problem, maybe even creating these monsters made the pit in Florian’s stomach feel even deeper than it already was. The city had fallen into darkness. How could he stand by and do absolutely nothing, even if the Pontiff ordered it?

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

There he stood at the foot of the bridge, staring down the long beaten path into the woods, into the mountains. Nobody was going to stop him from leaving. Anybody who dared to challenge the Pontiff’s orders were either killed or exiled, or they had fled beforehand.

As he took his first step out and away from his home, soft clangs of steel on cobblestone echoed behind him as they walked out onto the bridge with him. They were footsteps, but their owner struggled to make them.

“W- where are you going?” The voice was weak and hoarse, it barely traveled across the wind.

Vosler stood there staring at him. His armor had been completely stained with black smudges, the original white and silver barely shining through. He leaned against his sword heavily, trying to regain a semblance of balance.

Florian didn’t want to hear him. Not here, and not now. Had his friend been there waiting for him this entire time? Did he know he’d try to run? Was he going to turn him in to the Pontiff?? “You should go back.” He said in a low voice. “I’m leaving. And you nor anybody else is stopping me. I’m not going to fight you over it, so let me go peacefully.” Slowly the man turned, a pained expression in his eyes and on his face. “If you want to, though…you can come with me. We could leave this place of monsters.”

“I… I must decline. My… my duty comes first.” The words left his lips and Vosler erupted into another fit of hacking, wet coughs. He lurched foward and vomited black ooze onto his hand and the ground, groaning in agony shortly after. The sickness was ravaging him from the inside out. “I don’t want to do this… but… the Pontiffs orders… I cannot disobey my lord.” Weakly, the knight shakily gripped his sword and tried his best to lift it. His legs had grown taller over the past weeks, as had his arms. Now that he was standing up and trying to lift his weapon, Florian could see just how much he had physically changed. His body was gangly and dark. Weak, and faltering, twisted with some kind of curse.

The soldiers, as well we anybody else who had remained in the city, had turned into beasts.

But Florian hadn’t. He reached behind to take his own weapon, his sword hanging off his back. “Duty first…” He repeated disdainfully, “Don’t do this Vosler, please. Let me leave.”

“Damn it all Florian! Please, see reason!” Vosler’s breath hitched as he struggled to breathe. It took a great deal to resist the urge to spew again. Slowly, he lifted his greatsword up higher, bent his knees and shifted into a battle stance. “I have to carry out the Pontiff’s will, at all costs!”

“You and I both know you won’t win this!” Florian shouted back at him as he attempted to sound threatening. “I don’t want to have to cut you down! I HAVE seen reason! You are the one who refuses to! The Pontiff’s given up everything to embrace the Darkness! How can you stand by and watch it happen?! Everything Irithyll’s ever stood for will go to ruin once the age ends! We’ll DIE! All of us!”

“It will all be alright, this is just a challenge we face now. It won’t be this way forever! In order to move forward, we MUST push past this!” Vosler’s strength faded again, resulting in his weapon lowering enough to touch the ground.

“You aren’t listening! Please, for your own good! I don’t want to be responsible for your untimely death!” The longer Florian stared through his helmet’s visor at his companion, the more he felt like he was speaking to some creature that did not, and would not ever understand him and his speech.

The black ichor covered Vosler’s armor nearly completely. He was constantly purging it from his body, and no amount of doing so ever seemed to indicate it would end.

And he’s weak. So terribly weak like some pitiful animal.

He couldn’t defend himself like this. Killing him would be worth no honor. It would be merciful, in some light, but cruel in others. Florian’s stomach tightened into another series of knots as he took one step forward, his trembling hands squeezing his sword’s handle as tightly as they could.

Vosler’s muscles tensed with realization. There were no more words to be shared.

He raised his weapon again, quicker this time, and with a hard grunt he charged.

He hated all of this.

“So this is it then.” Florian muttered as he too sprung into a charge in response to Vosler’s own. Their blades smashed into each other the moment they met on the edge of the bridge. Vosler always was the stronger of the two. He’d always push Florian back with ease. But now? They seemed to be evenly matched. In one swift motion they disconnected. Rather than choosing to defend himself, the black-armored knight aggressively swung his weapon across.

Florian stepped back, bringing his own blade up to block the oncoming frenzy of blows that soon followed. “Stop this!! I don’t want to hurt you!” He stuck his leg out as soon as there was an opening in an attempt to trip his attacker.

The sickly knight immediately fell to his knee, losing his footing almost completely. He tried to stumble back and put distance between them, the effort making him wheeze with every clumsy step.

Florian stayed back, instead choosing to back away in the direction of the woods. “Stay DOWN.” He shouted, his feet firmly planted on the ground. His toes practically gripped the bottoms of his boots and the ground, before he turned and ran as fast as he could.

Vosler’s mind reeled as he saw the man run away. He had to catch him. His friend, the traitor.

Without thinking, he sank back down to the floor, catching himself with his hands. His legs bent before he sprung forward with a mighty leap. One leg came after the other, propelling him down the bridge with ease. It felt natural to him. Whatever thoughts remained faded into darkness.

Florian turned his head to look over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the pouncing monster coming down upon him. An incredible amount of weight slammed into him, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending him sailing forward into a summersault. His helmet bounced on the ground several times before being knocked off his head all together.

Vosler had him pinned down in his claws.

He could end it. He could kill the traitor who questioned the Pontiff’s rule. Vosler loomed over his friend and emitted a vicious inhuman growl, thick, black tar dripping from the inside of his helmet and onto his companion below. He raised his clawed gauntlet into the air, sweeping it across Florian’s chest and tearing into his metal armor with ease. The beast lowered himself with a pause, arms and shoulders trembling and his memories rushing back to him briefly.

He knew now that Florian was right.

The red-head let out a pained howl, kicking his legs out as hard as he was able to in an attempt to push the other knight away. Vosler reeled back with a shriek and let him go, backing away once more.

“IS THIS WHAT YOU’VE BECOME? A MONSTER?!” As Florian backed away again, he caught sight of his shredded armor. The dark stains were beginning to bubble as though they were boiling. Quickly he tore off what he could, tossing it aside and locating his dropped sword nearby.

Vosler lingered for several seconds, confused and dazed, before sinking back into a mindless feral state. With a roar he leapt forward again.

Florian nearly dove for his sword and swung around just as quickly once he had retrieved. Rather than trying to fend Vosler off again, he rolled to the side, avoiding the attack all together. “VOSLER!”

His companion turned as his feet made contact with the cobblestones, powerful legs sending him flying just as hard and just as fast as the last time. Florian threw himself to the floor, just barely missing the attack. He scrambled back up and tore down the bridge as fast as his legs could carry him, with the beastly knight chasing him down.

Just as they got to the end of the bridge and crossed under the last archway, Vosler stopped and began to whine loudly.

Beyond this point were the woods and the mountains. He couldn’t leave the city and disobey the Pontiff’s orders to stay put.

But…if he stayed, how would he follow his Pontiff’s orders to catch all who opposed him?

Confused he paced back and forth, unsure what to do.

Florian continued to run until he reached the first line of trees. Against his better judgement, he looked back at the pacing Outrider.

Vosler lifted his elongated neck to gaze back at his former friend, growling again before dipping his head lower towards the ground and whining pathetically. He stuck a claw out experimentally, before placing it down. The other came after it.

Nothing happened. Florian turned to run again, deeper into the woods, with Vosler soon in pursuit with growing confidence.

The snow had covered much of the ground beneath them, hiding fallen logs, rocks and steep drops that littered the area.

Twice Florian slid down a slope paved in ice and lost his balance. But he forced himself back up again, his legs sinking deeper and deeper into the snow. The ice had come up to his waist, slowing him down considerably.

The Outrider came bounding behind him, leaping in and out of the snow with few problems. The trees however were starting to become tightly packed together, making it harder for him to proceed. His gauntlets tore through the bark as he clawed his way up the hill to catch up.

Florian pulled himself out of the snow and onto a clearing made of stone, his limbs feeling like they were on fire.

Vosler broke through the tree line and landed heavily in front of him, claws grinding against the stoney ground hard and quick enough to make sparks. A sword greeted him as his body steadied itself, crashing onto his armor with considerable force. But it wasn’t enough to throw him off balance again. He lashed out again in retaliation, the swipe landing against Florian and knocking him over entirely. “I SERVE- S…SERVE THE PON…TIFF- GO- GO BACK-” His voice came out as a series of choked and broken gurgles.

Florian barely managed to roll over onto his knees, trying to recover from the force of the blow. The side of his face stung and burned. Some of the dark ichor had dripped onto his skin, permanently marking it.

Behind him, the Outrider let out a piercing shriek as he lunged one more time, this time with the intent to end the fight.

His hand tightened around the handle of his sword as he waited for Vosler to come directly over him. Once his companion was in position, Florian dropped onto his back and turned to face him, sticking his blade out and right through the massive body about to land on him.

A wet, gurgling wail agony erupted from the Outrider’s throat as the knight impaled him. His body was quick to react, sending him flying backwards and away as soon as the tips of his claws touched the ground. Blood and the faintest glint of gold sprayed out of the fresh wound, painting Florian and the clearing dark red.

Vosler wildly flailed around as he felt for the weapon, finding it, ripping it out and tossing it aside. Every step he took only made the bleeding that much worse. Trembling, he backed away, one hand gripping at the massive, bloody hole in his dark armor.

“STAY DOWN!” Florian pushed himself up to his feet with whatever strength he could muster. The chill of the harsh winds blew against his face, leaving his body to ache and throb painfully.

His sword was too far away to retrieve in time to fend off another attack.

The beast, however, was too weak to pursue. The world came back to his senses again, though for how long and why, he hadn’t a clue. He had to take advantage of it.

Silently, he bowed his head almost as if to bid Florian ‘farewell.’ The Outrider turned away and began to crawl like a wounded hound back down the hill, leaving a trail of red and black in his wake. He had failed the Pontiff, but he refused to kill his friend. It was better to live in exile than to die.

Florian stood there alone, watching Vosler until he was no longer within sight. Hesitantly, he turned towards the clearing they had fought on, moving onto it and looking down towards a great chasm that lay in between him and the lands beyond. They could have fallen into it. Into the darkness, into the abyss.

With hardly any energy left in him, he began to stumble away, seeking a way around it.

Irithyll was no longer his home. He would wait for the Fire to fade, hiding away in solitude.

Down in the chasm, on a small ledge lay a ring. A gold band, with a round jewel as black as night, left to be forever lost in the Dark.

#dark souls 3 #dark souls oc #dark souls rp #ds3 #flower n void #rip in pieces the drama

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biofunmy · 5 years

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Sahara-Level Sand Dunes, Mediterranean-Blue Water: Welcome to Michigan

The Dune Climb is one of the most popular things to do in a remarkably beautiful, off-the-radar corner of northwest Michigan called Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. Yet it had me suffering like a modern-day Sisyphus on a June afternoon. With each oxygen-sucking, uphill step, I slipped and slid backward on the sandy slope. My lungs burned, my bad knee ached, I was drenched with sweat — and I was only halfway to the top.

For locals, the sandy clamber is a childhood rite of passage. “Our mom would take us there to tire us out,” a friend told me, “while she lounged in her beach chair and drank Tab.”

And on this day, kids galloped past me and rolled down the 300-foot dune, their squeals as high-pitched as the cries of the herring gulls overhead. For visitors like me, the steep climb was a way to dig into the park’s quintessential feature: sand.

The park has a plethora of the stuff, from 35 miles of beaches to “perched dunes” towering 450 feet above Lake Michigan — part of the state’s 275,000 acres of sand dunes, which help make up the largest freshwater dune system in the world.

Under a blazing morning sun, I forged upward, thinking — possibly hallucinating — about a cool drink and a dive into the lake, which, I’ve been promised, is two miles across the sand. I could have been in Dubai’s desert; this certainly looks like no landscape I saw growing up in Middle America. Elsewhere in the 71,000-acre park, pristine beaches and bone-white lighthouses call to mind Maine. And all of it curves along the third-largest of the great lakes, as deep-blue and sparkling as the Mediterranean Sea.

For all the park’s odd, otherworldly beauty, it can be reached year-round via a short flight from Chicago (In summer, there are direct flights from several major airports). Yet, like many lifelong Midwesterners, I’d never heard of it until a few years back, when it garnered headlines after “Good Morning America” viewers voted it Most Beautiful Place in America.

Even as I triumphantly crested the top of the dune, it was difficult to imagine that such an extraordinary place existed here. I was pleased to find the view didn’t disappoint. Behind me stretched a forest canopy, rolling wooded hills, farmland and the iridescent waters of sprawling Glen Lake.

And just ahead (after a bit more hiking), Lake Michigan appeared in the distance, shimmering like a mirage, delicious enough to drink. Stretching west, so vast and sapphire blue, the lake seemed endless as an ocean, stopping only when its farthest edge met the pale sky — two shades of blue colliding to form the distant horizon.

Even locals don’t grow immune to the beauty; many keep an annual park-entrance pass dangling from their car’s rearview mirror for spontaneous after-work outings (a less-expensive weekly pass is $25). “We chase the sunset,” Emily Betz Tyra, a native of the region and editor of Traverse Magazine, told me, “and everyone has their favorite beach.”

The following day, ignoring a gray sky, I set out to find my own private stretch of sand. I had arrived at an awkward time, in early June, when the weather can require a tank top one day and a down jacket the next. The actor Tim Allen, who has long summered in this part of northern Michigan, famously compared its climate to “ripe pears — really good for a short period of time.”

Like me, he’s among those who think that, on a sunny summer day, the area looks more like the Mediterranean than modest Michigan. “If you get there between the Fourth of July and late August, in a stretch where it’s 90 degrees, and you’re standing on a white sand beach — you’d be hard-pressed to tell me where you were, if you didn’t know,” the actor told Forbes magazine.

Weather is a subject much on the minds of locals these days. Lake Michigan’s water levels reached near record highs this year (after hitting an all-time low in 2013). Past decades have seen the lake’s water levels wax and wane with the vagaries of rain, snow and climatic conditions; for now, with great swaths of sand underwater, the park’s beaches are “much narrower” than in 2018, more than one person said. Sleeping Bear Dunes’ deputy superintendent, Tom Ulrich, put it this way: “You can still play Frisbee on the beach; you just have to be a lot more accurate.”

I was speaking to Mr. Ulrich at the Sleeping Bear Dunes visitors center in Empire, population, 375, a Rockwellian hamlet smack-dab in the middle of the park. Antique stores and ice cream shops populate the one-stoplight town’s Front Street, while Carol Cunningham’s baked-goods stand runs on the honor system from her front yard. (Just drop your coins in and snag one of her popular cherry scones.)

From there, I drove to nearby Esch Beach, following a gravel road through a pristine woodland, windows open. I could almost hear the ghosts of Aral, a logging boom town here in the late 1800s that all but disappeared once the timber was gone, around 1930. On impulse, I stopped and cut the motor; only the symphony of birdsong filled my ears. Drinking in the fresh air, I felt intoxicated. By the time I got to the nearly deserted beach, I was in full Zen mode.

On this day, Lake Michigan was painted in a moody palette of grays and silvers, with a straight dark line at the overcast horizon. With no wind, the water was as smooth as glass and crystal-clear, its sandy bottom peppered with stones rounded by endless waves. I crouched by the water’s edge and listened to the quiet, which was broken only by the gentle lapping of water on sand, as soothing as any sound machine.

Less gentle was the frigid water, which wouldn’t warm to swimsuit-worthy temperatures until July. I waded in to my knees, feeling my calves turn numb as a pro athlete’s in an ice bath. A more appealing way to enjoy the lake appeared when three standup paddle boarders glided by, silent as swans. Surfers, too, can be seen catching waves year round, and you can rent a board or take a lesson through the friendly Sleeping Bear Surf & Kayak shop in Empire.

I ambled down the beach to where a couple and two young children scavenged for Petoskey stones (Michigan’s state stone) — fossils beautifully laced with a honeycomb pattern, relics from when warm seas and coral reefs covered this region 350 million years ago.

“Find any?” I asked.

The father shook his head, while his impatient wife — a Nebraska native — had given up, deeming the treasure “an urban legend,” Lake Michigan’s version of the Loch Ness monster. (Local stores hawking the stones, polished to a high sheen and often made into jewelry, would disagree.)

As a lakeshore overseen at the federal level, with the same protections as a national park, Sleeping Bear Dunes’ beaches are blissfully free of snack bars, jungle gyms, life guard chairs and other trappings of civilization. They’re in their natural state, these long expanses of sand. And amid the 35 miles of coastline, it’s easy enough to find a deserted strand where you’re free to do as you please — up to a point: A sign along Esch Beach warns sun worshipers to KEEP YOUR SWIMSUIT ON. (A portion of the beach was once popular among nudists.)

Curious about Sleeping Bear Dunes’ history, I learned that some 14,000 years ago, retreating glaciers carved out Lake Michigan and left behind ridges and glacial moraines (headlands of rock and dirt). Westerly winds blowing across the lake piled sand atop the moraines, creating the spectacularly steep and tall dunes — known as perched dunes — that define the park. Following the retreat of the glaciers, Anishinabek Indians were active here when Europeans arrived in the mid-1600s, and some of the 100 miles of hiking trails trace well-worn paths the Indians followed across the dunes to reach their fishing camps.

The park also maintains villages that thrived in the late 19th century: Port Oneida, a lumbering and farming community, and Glen Haven, a port town along an expansive beach where steamers stopped seeking food, lodging and wood for fuel. You can step back a century or so by meandering through their preserved buildings, including a fruit cannery (now a boat museum), general store and blacksmith shop.

There’s another way to enjoy the coastline and the lake: from up high. The easy, 1.5-mile Empire Bluff Trail led me through a beech-maple forest to a lofty bluff above Lake Michigan, where I gaped at one of the prettiest views in all of the park, north along the lake’s dune-draped shoreline. A more challenging hike took me huffing and puffing to the top of a steep headland known as Pyramid Point (a popular launching point for hang gliders and paragliders). But standing there, nearly straight above the lake, the only airborne things I saw were herring gulls coasting below me on the breeze.

Happily, there’s a way to see dramatic vistas without a hike that feels like a cardiac stress test: Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive, a seven-mile blacktop road that leads cars and cyclists through the wooded hills and towering dunes. (It’s an especially lovely route when the leaves turn in fall.)

Numbered stops show off spectacular views, and the highlight is Stop 9, which boasts a wooden platform perched precariously atop a fiercely angled dune, some 450 feet above the water. It’s surely the most Instagrammed spot in the park — and perhaps the best place in the entire Midwest to watch the sunset, slowly melting into Lake Michigan.

It’s certainly not true that if you’ve seen one sunset you’ve seen them all, but I confess I spent as much time on the viewing structure looking down — at folks racing to the bottom of the dune, then plodding back up. Those at the water’s edge looked like mere specks from my perspective — and had clearly ignored the sign that warned: “Running down may sound fun. Trust us: Climbing up 450 feet of hot sand and gravel definitely is not.” Some learn the hard way: Last year, park rangers rescued 17 souls too tired, sick or scared to make their way back to the top.

Climbing a dune is like walking up a down escalator, as many sand-savvy folks have noted, including the Pulitzer Prize-winning author Annie Dillard. But Mr. Ulrich, the park’s deputy superintendent, appreciates the impulse. “Anyone who visits Sleeping Bear Dunes,” he concedes, “should go home with a little sand in their shoes.” Back home from my trip a few days later, I readied my hiking socks for the wash and unleashed a small avalanche onto the floor.

Lucinda Hahn, a Chicago area native, is a freelance writer who lived on a dune overlooking Lake Michigan for two years while she was the editor of Lake magazine.

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localfreshies · 6 years

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New Post has been published on Local Freshies | Be a local wherever you go

New Post has been published on https://localfreshies.com/day-4-welcome-to-the-rock-pebble-creek-ski-resort-that-is/

Day 4: Welcome to the Rock! – Pebble Creek Ski Resort That Is

For me, hearing about a place prior of visiting makes my personal experience that much sweeter. It creates a certain mystique or legend inside my head, encouraging me to look for things that others may miss. This was certainly the case for Pebble Creek Ski Resort and the city of Pocatello. Reading about it in a few blogs and ski magazines, this place seemed like a unicorn. Low-cost lift tickets, two-dollar beers at the resort, great access to backcountry and terrain that was challenging? How could this still exist in North America? I couldn’t wait to see it in person.

Pocatello – Boulder of Idaho

A Ski Town with a college problem or the other way around? Image by: Local Freshies

As we drove out of Twin Falls, the wide-open plains quickly were replaced with massive snow-covered peaks. Arriving to Pocatello a bit earlier than planned, we had some time to explore before dinner. As we drove through the center of town, we were greeted to well-kept historic neighborhoods filled with tree-lined streets, a quaint downtown, easy access to outdoor activities and a university. It reminded us of an affordable Boulder. How many ski-towns exist that are college towns? Not many.

Mocha Madness

Image by: Local Freshies

Venturing through the historic district, an adorable café appears called Mocha Madness. Festooned with neon lights, it reminds us of a 50’s diner. Why not grab a coffee? As we stepped into the cafe, hip hop bumped quietly in the background as we looked over the menu. The barista could tell we weren’t from around here. “You want to try a Mocha Madness Original?” Always taking the local recommendations, we ordered two of them. Taking a sip, it’s thick and creamy almost like a hot cocoa but with a slight tinge of coffee flavor. We come to find out that it’s made with the local dairy’s chocolate milk. This was not an ordinary coffee, mind you. It also contains potato flakes making it naturally creamier and richer than you’d find anywhere else. While sipping our coffees, darkness descends and our grumbling stomachs remind us it’s time to head to dinner.

Best Sushi Ever In The Rockies? Shockingly Yes!

Image by: Local Freshies

We know what you’re thinking. “Sushi, in the Rockies?” You bet ‘cha! We’d read this was considered one of the best restaurants in all of Idaho. So, it was on our must-do list while in the Gem State. Daniel Russo, owner and head chef, grew up near Grand Targhee but like all great artists in the food world, he became a road scholar and sushi was his passion. From stints in Washington DC, California and trips to Japan, his exposure to all things sushi was vast.

Togarashi or Japanese 7 Spice Starts The Meal

Escolar wrapped around cucumber Image by: Local Freshies

The meal started with two styles of edamame. One with garlic, salt, and butter while the other seasoned with Togarashi or Japanese 7 spice. The dressing of the soybeans added a whole different flavor that I’ve never had before. It’s a perfect way to start our culinary adventure. From there, we jumped into Escolar wrapped around cucumber. This dense fish has a buttery, flaky taste. Each course of sushi continued to blow our minds. The “Tiny Dancer” which is the most popular roll, lived up to its fame. Warm, crunchy & spicy from the fresh wasabi carefully placed on top of each piece.

Dozo-Domo?

Oshizushi the traditional way to make sushi – Image by: Local Freshies

The clear winner though was the “Dozo-Domo” which loosely translates to chef’s choice. A sushi roll tailored specifically to your liking. For us, Daniel chose an Oshizushi which is made by pressing blocks of rice and sushi toppings into a special mold (called an ‘oshibako’) that creates perfect rectangles, then sliced and served. Talk about a mind-blowing experience. If you’re anywhere near Pocatello, we suggest making a pit-stop here. You won’t be disappointed. With our stomachs full and souls re-energized, it was time to head to bed.

College Market – Quick Breakfast & Awesome Coffee

College Market – A great breakfast spot & off the hook coffee Image by: Local Freshies

After a restful night, we woke up early the next day ready to get first chair. But first things first… breakfast. Only a block down from where we were staying was the College Market. Another adorable café that would be somewhere I’d camp out and work from if I lived here. It has lots of room with a just enough lived in feel to make it relaxing. Today though, we just ordered some coffee and grab breakfast paninis to go. First off, the Southern Pecan Coffee from the local micro-roaster Bills Beans was off the charts. The flavored roast tasted like I was drinkin’ a pecan pie. Second, the breakfast paninis made from scratch with fresh herbs are scrumptious. Wow! What a great way to start the day.

Welcome to the Rock!

Welcome to the Rock! Image by: Local Freshies

After filling up the gas tank, we hopped on the expressway and headed to Pebble. With only a ten-minute drive, we exited the interstate and meandered our way towards the resort. Located in a massive valley, the resort’s face can be easily seen miles away. It isn’t until you make the final turn that you realize how serious the terrain really is. Big, rocky, and most of all steep. Cliff bands, chutes and sweeping trails drop down its front face inviting you to try and ski it if you can. A true playground for any serious skier or snowboarder. I now understand why the nickname for Pebble Creek is “The Rock”.

Kids, Kids everywhere!!!

It’s a Thursday and the parking lot is full… of kids. Hundreds of them. We meet with our hosts for our stay: Mary Reichman, Mike Dixon and Mike Rodriguez. The first question out of our mouths is what’s up with all the young’uns? Even though there’s a ton of steep terrain, the goal at Pebble Creek is to get every kid in the area on the slopes. So, each day of the week, hundreds of students from schools in the region come up and shred as part of their PE credits. In addition, they make sure its affordable too! For $12/day, these lucky kids can get out on the slopes. What a novel concept! Instead of giving the money to shareholders, Pebble’s trying to help the community by offering an outlet during the cold winter days.

These Kids RIP!

One half of the Edgie-Wedgie Combo Image by: Local Freshies

Mary no longer hits the slopes so Mike & Mike head out with us. Today’s goal is to give us a tour of the mountain. We hop onto the main lift and head up. Looking around, the opportunities are endless. Right underneath the lift are massive moguls surrounded by rocks, stumps and other natural debris. Not a run for the faint-hearted. And then… suddenly over the horizon, a school of children appear. Flying down the trail, they hop over the obstacles, make perfectly arced turns and disappear as quickly as they came. We ask Mike Dixon is this normal? He nods. There must be something in the terrain because these young kids rip!

Edgie-Wedgie

At the top, we head skiers left to the outskirts and hit Outback. While traversing over, we pass two trail signs that call out Edgie and Wedgie. Mary tells us later that day these two runs are named after the children’s ski tool called the “Edgie-Wedgie.” A short piece of rubber tubing that clamps to each ski tip, this little tool makes sure the kid’s skis are in a safe position. Getting a quick glimpse at both these runs, I’m guessing you’d need to graduate from them before you’d hit either slope.

Soft and Creamy

The snow is soft & creamy Image by: Local Freshies

Dropping down onto Outback, the snow is fantastic. Soft, creamy and effortlessly carveable. We take huge arcs through the snow enjoying each turn. As the trees part in front of us, we’re given the million-dollar view of the Portneuf Valley. The scenery is breathtaking. In the distance, Mike Dixon points out Scout Mountain, a popular zone known for mountain biking in the summer and backcountry skiing in the winter. He notes that the skiing might be great in the winter but the area really lends itself to mountain biking in the summer. From Pocatello alone, you can access 52 miles of single track that literally connects to everything around including that peak. Wow!

The Rock!

Image by: nluv Finish & Design Studio

After a few laps on the outer section of the mountain, we decide to check out some of the steeper stuff. We head riders right this time and drop into the Rock. Named after the resorts’ nickname, it’s steep yet soft but the slope is no joke. Filled with boulders and cliffs, you have to pick your line and choose each turn to make sure you don’t end up tumbling down one of them. What a rush! We continue to hit the trails until our legs call “Mercy!”

Rock Bottom Saloon – The Cheers of a Ski Town

It’s beer o’clock time. Even though the Saloon is closed during the week, they open it up for us. After a few minutes, some of the employees getting off of work join the crew over a cold one. The watering hole is the stuff of legends, like a pair of comfortable gym shoes that you never want to throw out. Worn in stools, TVs showing old ski flicks like “The Blizzard of Ahhs”, great conversation and of course, affordable beers like $2 Montuckys.

Pebble’s Employees Are Passionate About Their Resort

Mike Rodriguez deep in his element Image by: Local Freshies

We take a moment to learn a bit more about our awesome hosts. Even though this is Mary’s last year, you can tell this is less of a job and more a calling. Her passion for Pebble and the community can be seen in the beginner’s area she helped create called the Aspens. Looking forward to seeing more of her family, she’s handing the torch over to Mike Dixon. Mike grew up shredding the mountain and you can tell by the way he hits everything and anything that’s put in front of him just like the kids.

The California Connection

Mike Rodriguez on the other hand, grew up in Sacramento and learned to ride up in Lake Tahoe. It was on one of his many shred trips that he visited Pebble Creek and that’s all it took. It was love at first sight. Now the lift operations manager, he makes sure that everything keeps running. After a few brews, we decided to call it a day and head home.

Stay tuned as we dive into the history of Pebble Creek with a little backcountry adventure and take a dip in Lava Hot Springs.

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