khululekile

[khululekile]

[khululekile]

Oooo @tllgrrl Thanks for the tag 🫶🏽

• The Song I’m currently listening to •

Soft tagging @emeraudetoubiafan @brown-sugarrr @dope-ethiopian @sarahbuckysimp @truuqueen

wanted to start something...

Put a link or a screenshot of what you're listening to rn or the last song you listened to

Npt: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @kraekat29 @aidansloth @thatdelusionalnerd @swiftie-as-a-coursing-river @swift-of-corvids @petrichorandarson @wouldvecouldveshouldve @firebrand-witch @fclklqre @diqldrunks and anyone else who wants to!!!

#ask game #Khelani

[khululekile]

Melissa hated her feelings. 

She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings. 

“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name, 

‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list: 

1.) Don’t cry.   

 2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate

3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you

She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking, 

‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.

 ‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion. 

‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,

“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”

Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry. 

9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow. 

It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.

Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong. 

When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that. 

When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.

When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again. 

She carried that. 

Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:

‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her. 

‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’ 

She cried. 

She escalated. 

She took it personal. 

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music. 

‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose. 

The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too. 

Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow. 

So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks. 

Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified. 

And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power. 

Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her. 

And she finally loved them back. 

[khululekile]

“The only power I have is that I believe we can do better.”

If you like my art you can support me on ko-fi here! ☕

[khululekile]

sammy😊

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Me. But this wont be my 2024 !

lore mode

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Sam: FOUR MONTHS.

Sarah: What’s he yelling about?

Bucky, clearly suppressing laughter: Don’t worry about it.

Sam: THAT’S HOW LONG YOU KNOWINGLY WATCHED ME WATER A FAKE PLANT.

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SarahBucky Fleur De Louve Month 2023 - Day 7 - Prompt: “I think it looks nice.”

Sarah Wilson / Bucky Barnes

(Story inspired by Vogue Magazine’s photograph of Serena Williams in a custom Thom Browne corset gown.)

* * * * * * * * * *

When he was finished, she gingerly tip-toed to the mirror and turned around.

‘Oh…mygawd,” she whispered. “Wow…”

She turned again, stopped, and looked over her shoulder at her reflection. Her upper back was framed, and the red, white, and navy blue ribbons—that laced up the corset dress from the curve of her ass up to her waist, and from just below her shoulder blades down to the waist—stood in contrast to the black, hand-sequined fabric.

Bucky was the one who cinched her in and tied the two sections together with one bow.

The hair and makeup stylist Misty recommended was a dream. He parted her thick curly hair, braided it into 4 sections that met at the nape of her neck, then he added an extension, into which he braided one of the extra laces that came with the dress.

“You don’t think it’s too much, do you? I mean, this is New York, and the event’s really fancy, but…this. And unlacing it all later tonight is gonna be—“

*shhick…click*

She glanced over and saw him standing behind her, by the wall, as still as a statue, watching her look at herself in the full-length mirror.

His lips were slightly parted and she saw the tip of his tongue wet his bottom lip before his teeth rolled over it.

Then she saw the quick squint.

*sshhick…click*

His left hand slowly flexed, and in his right hand was his EDC switchblade that he was opening and closing methodically.

He was looking at her as though he was mapping out access points for Special Ops maneuvers.

“I think it looks great, nandi. And getting you out of it’s not gonna be a problem at all.”

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Fleur de Louve Month: Day Five

Prompt: Soup

It took her twice as long as usual to get out of bed, but Sarah managed to only go through half a box of tissues in the time it took her to brush her teeth and get into clean clothes. She was winded by the time she got downstairs, but she grabbed her purse, headed for the door, and crashed squarely into a wall of muscle.

Bucky folded his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Sarah looked up and felt her shoulders deflate as she had to exhale through her mouth. “I have to go work—”

“You absolutely do not,” he said firmly. “You are sick, Sarah—”

“But they can’t—”

“They can manage for a few days without you,” Bucky said and took her purse from her shoulder.

“Yeah, but what about—” Sarah was too weak to fight when he turned her around and marched her back up the stairs to her bedroom.

“Whatever you think you need to do, you hired people to be able to handle,” he insisted. He pulled back the covers of her bed and pointed to the rumpled sheets. “In.”

She tossed her head back and groaned. “You don’t have to take care of me,” she mumbled, swinging her legs back onto the bed. “Sam needs you on the boat.”

“Sam will live. If anything, he’d be pissed at both of us if I let you leave the house feeling as bad as you do.” Bucky waited until she’d tucked her feet back under the blankets before he pulled them up around her hips. He placed his hand gently on her forehead. “Stay,” he commanded lightly. “I’m going to make you some soup.”

Despite her wooly, throbbing head and sore throat, Sarah smiled. “Becca’s rosemary chicken soup?” she croaked hopefully.

Bucky smiled. “You got it.”

[khululekile]

SarahBucky Fleur De Louve Month 2023 - Day 6 Prompt: “There’s no place like home.” | SFW

Sarah Wilson/Bucky Barnes, and Special Guest Cameos: Cass & AJ Wilson and Alpine the Cat

* * * * * * * * * *

He sees the front porch, and another piece of what he called “the Thunder-whatever-thing” falls off of him.

Stepping out of the van, he grabbed his backpack and duffle, and nodded to the driver.

“Thanks, pal.”

“My pleasure, Sarge!”

The vehicle pulled away, and before Bucky mounted the steps, he looked around the yard, doing a casual perimeter check.

Some old habits can’t die.

Especially not now, when everything he holds dear is on the other side of that door.

He closed his eyes and heard the boys and Sarah inside:

“Luke! You can nevah defeat me!”

“I am stronger with the Force, Vader!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-huh!”

“Cass! AJ! Are you done with your homework?”

And he smelled food cooking.

Meatloaf, greens, macaroni and cheese.

His mouth watered coming off of 3 ½ weeks of food from fast food stores and greasy diners, none of it properly seasoned as far as he was concerned.

A small white cat stepped onto the porch, sat, and waited.

“Hi there,” he said softly, scratching behind her ear with his right hand. She jumped up into his arms, and climbed up to his left shoulder.

“I missed you too,” he cooed. “You been good, Alpine?”

‘Mrow,” she answered, rubbed her face on his ear, purring.

Before putting the key into the lock, he placed his hand on the door jamb.

“Sikelela le ndawo,” he whispered.

Opening the door, he sees a lightsaber duel in full swing in the living room, accompanied, of course, by John Williams’ iconic music coming from the TV.

“Hey fellas!”

“Uncle Bucky!” the boys chime together, dropping their plastic weapons, running to hug him and tussle over his duffle and backpack.

Alpine jumps down heading straight for the kitchen as he knelt so they could all get their arms around each other.

“Guys? Did you hear me?”Sarah calls, walking into the dining room as he stands and closes the door. “Time to get ready for—“

Her face lights up, but her “Mama’s Not Playing” voice is what the boys hear:

“Are you guys lightsabering in this house again? You know better. Go put Bucky’s bags in the mudroom, pick up your stuff out of here, wash your hands and set the table. You can play space battle outside after dinner.”

“Okay, mama!” They snickered hauling the bags into the kitchen because they knew what was going to happen next: The Kissin’ Stuff, which they didn’t mind too much because it made their mama all smiley. Mama and Uncle Bucky.

“Hey Sarah.”

She opens her arms and he walks into her embrace.

“James.”

He removed his dog tags and placed them around her neck before he kissed her, and as he did, Alpine continued to purr as she wound her way around their legs and the boys carried on with their Luke vs Vader debate while putting plates and silverware on the dining room table.

This was where he wanted to be, and where she wanted him: in kid’s hijinx, in cat chaos, and in Sarah’s arms.

He meant it from the bottom of his heart when he looked into her eyes and said:

“There’s no place like home.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Link to AO3 soon come.

Thanks for reading!

[khululekile]

Announcement: 3rd Annual Fleur de Louve Month

Welcome back for another month-long celebration of Sarah Wilson and Bucky Barnes!

This year we decided to bring it back to the original format of providing prompts all month to encourage the greatest amount of participation.

Each week has a collection of prompts to choose from. You don’t have to do the prompt on the day it is listed, they are just there for guidance through each week’s themes.

Remember: the point of this month is to have fun and put more Sarah/Bucky into the world, so as long as you’re doing that, you’re doing it right!

Please reach out to the mods with any questions. We're so excited to see what this fandom comes up with this year.

Edit we forgot (I'm so sorry! 😨): You should be able to find it on AO3 here, or type in the name "FleurdeLouve_SarahBucky_Month_2023" when typing the collection you wish to submit to

Edit: Reminder ✨️: Not everything HAS to be fanfiction. Be as creative as you want! Here are a few ideas: fan art,manips, comics, 3D rendering, moodboards, aesthetics, snapshots of Sims you make as the characters, A.I. "art" renders (especially for others who can't draw but still want to try something 😅)

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😍

Anthony Mackie, Inverse Magazine (June 2023)

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!Happy Juneteenth!

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Haven’t obsessed over the FATWS concept art for Sam Wilson enough.

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Moon Pie by @khululekile

Bucky Barnes x Sarah Wilson | Rated: SFW | One-shot of Wonderful

Summary: After Bucky fails to bail Sam out of a 2 day long conference down at Capitol Hill, like they agreed, Sam heads to his apartment to see why he left him hanging.

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