#I love Cat but her phone calls? UNDERWHELMING

[travelingturtles]

So many things have been found… I found out that writing everyday isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I found out that British Columbia and Alberta are stunningly beautiful and the Canadians are delights, but I already knew that, Darlene being one of my favorite humans. After crossing the border into Canada we beelined it for Nelson, BC. I was there many years ago and it was almost as lovely as I remembered it. It turns out that everyone thought it was lovely 35 years ago and instead of a population of 5,000 it has closer to 20,000. We preferred the quaintness of Kaslo and met a Tai Chi instructor on the beach along the Kootney River that invited us to stay at her house the next time we pass through. We just may take her up on the offer. She didn’t give us her phone number though. Hmmmm…

We continued our way north and soaked at Ainsworth Hotsprings. It’s not Harbin, clothing is not optional (meaning you have to wear suits, not that you have to be naked~ you may have to be naked at Harbin?). I prefer the option, but it did have an amazing horseshoe cave filled with 104º water up to ones waist and stalactites and alcoves that you can sit in. Pretty amazing! We stayed at Mirror Lake Campground just beyond for a couple of nights, complete with a four month old Norwegian Forrest Cat that allowed me the opportunity for some much needed “Fuzz Therapy”. From there we headed to Nakusp Hotsprings and got caught in a thunder storm while we were soaking. I was tickled to see how nonchalant the Canadians were and tried my best to follow suit. There they were soaking away, being pelted by rain, big black rain cloud overhead. There we were, soaking with them, thunder rolling… finally a big bolt of lightening and everyone scurried out while one old guy said, “well at least it would be a quick death”. By the time we got back to our Clifford, the skies were clear and we were clean and happy.

From Nakusp we drove to yet another hot springs. This one was called Halcyon Hot springs. Very posh indeed. Four different pools of varying degrees of temperature from 60º to 85º to 98º to 105º all looking over the Columbia River. This is Canada’s Columbia River. I guess that guy “discovered” everywhere! It’s amazing how many towns and rivers are named after a wealthy banker, a contributor to the railway system, a “discoverer”. All men, all or most were wealthy. You know the story. We met a woman in one of the hot springs who was from Saskatoon and had worked as a teacher in the Arctic with indigenous “first people”. I mentioned some of the horrors in the US with the plights of our first people and thought that Canada seemed to honor their indigenous people with more grace and dignity. Sadly, apparently not the case.

From there we traveled northward, crossed the river on a little ferryboat and found a spot to camp at Blanket Creek Provincial Park. So far, knock wood (there’s plenty of that around), we’ve found a place to camp wherever we go. There’s either over flow camping sites or exclusively first come first serve campgrounds. We stayed one quick night in Monarch Campground, just on the border of Banff and Jasper. It was right on Hwy 1, Canada’s Trans Continental Highway. A couple of cars and trucks zoomed by in the night. Mostly we heard trains. So many trains all night long. I love trains, even in the middle of the night. And the views of the mountains all around at sunset were breathtaking. In the morning we headed to Lake Louise thinking that it would be one of the highlights of our trip. Quite underwhelming. Hordes of tourist buses, parking attendants flailing their arms in all directions trying to bring order to hordes of people trying to have a majestic experience next to a pristine lake, complete with a huge hotel with rooms costing between $500 and $1000+ per/night. Not my cup of nature. We drove in, parked, walked along the paved path, got our almost obligatory picture and left. Then we drove to Emerald Lake. Still lots of people and an expensive lodge, but exquisitely beautiful and much more up our alley. We headed toward Jasper, approached the National Forest Kiosk and now with our one year pass to any National Park in Canada hanging on our rear view mirror, we feel like we’re settling into the groove.

Have you ever sat and observed a few ants and how they meander about? They meet nose to nose, one goes to the left, the other to the right. Sometimes they climb over one another, but not often. They agree on who’s going to carry which end of a crumb and carry it somewhere together. They’re in a seemingly seamless groove. I feel a bit like them. Eddie and I are living in this tiny space. Our living room is about 4’X4’, our kitchen, den and bedroom are about the same and, oh, the living room, kitchen, den and bedroom are all the same room. Somehow we’ve established who moves in what direction while making our tea, brushing our teeth, dressing, cooking… And without talking about it we’ve established who does what. Eddie takes the bikes out and moves them to the back of Clifford, I pop the top and move all of our stuff (backpacks, bike helmets, laundry bag…) to the “loft”, Eddie takes the level and lifts out while I drive onto the lifts and he says when we’re level, We’ve got a routine going, but we never decided who’d do what. Good thing I’m traveling with my best friend and hubby.

[lightupthemoon]

the supergirl finale sucked and you know what would have made it better? IF LENA AND KARA KISSED.

#LIKE GETTING RID AND NYXLY AND LEX LIKE THAT??? DUMB #THE LEGION APPEARED FOR WHAT? SO WINN COULD SING AT THE WEDDING? DUMB #BRAINY AND THE BIG BRAIN DILEMMA? DUMB #EVEN WILLIAM DEY HAD NO POINT #I love Cat but her phone calls? UNDERWHELMING #My babies deserved better than such an underwhelming final season #I hate the cw #supergirl spoilers #I guess #Supergirl

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

big brother to the rescue.

BEN MILLER

TRIPLE FRONTIER. ┃ USEFUL LINKS.

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! hope you're doing well :) i was thinking about a ben miller fic where when they're in the bar towards the beginning the reader is there with her friends and the boys push benny to talk to her bc he's getting distracted from conversation by her across the place. thanks a ton 💖

❝ words: about 1.6k.

❝ a / n: if you'd like to read a second part, lemme know! don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it, i’d really appreciate it!

“C’mon, little brother. She’s been looking at you the whole night”. Will says palming his back, after catching him distracted for the third time.

“Go, before I do”. Frankie challenges him with a petty smile, knowing it’s going to be enough to force the boxer to take the step.

Taking a deep, deep breath, finding in that gesture the encouragement he needs, Benny goes straight to you, waiting for the bartender to serve you another beer.

At first, you don’t notice his presence, until the unknown guy stops by your side leaning too over the bar. You two cross your gazes, sharing a soft smile that makes your knees tremble. The blonde looks really good, but for some reason, you have the feeling that he could be an idiot, so when he throws at you one of those horrible pickup lines, you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I’m gonna give you advice. Don’t hit a girl like that”. You just reply with a chuckle, referring to his words.

“I’m more into hitting men”.

For a second, where you were about to leave with your drink, you squint at him having a sip and trying to understand the meaning of his affirmation.

“I box, professionally”.

“Oh…” You nod your chin, puckering your lips, showing him that this fact doesn’t impress him at all. “Congrats. Good luck in your next fight”.

Not giving him the chance to continue the talk, you come back to your table under the attentive looks of your friends, who are laughing at the poor guy and the gesture on his face. His brothers, on the other hand, have slapped their faces whilst shaking their heads disappointed. As soon as Benny joins him, Santi slaps the back of his neck, causing him to choke in his beer.

“There must be something wrong with my eyes, ’cause I can’t take them off you? Really, Benny? Really?”

The guys are laughing when Pope repeats his sentence, as Will puts an arm over his shoulders. “You’re lucky to have me… Big brother to the rescue”.

Anna nudges you, making you turn on your stool to watch a second guy walking towards you, very secure of himself. The only thing you wanted tonight was to have fun with your friends and seems it’s not going to be an option. Crossing a leg over the other and nailing an elbow on the table, resting your chin on your palm, you force a smirk when he offers you a kind smile.

“Good nights, ladies, sorry to interrupt. William, a pleasure”.

The man holds your free hand without asking for it to stretch it. Firmly. Like only a soldier would do —as your father does. He turns for a second to his friends, laying his oceanic and hypnotic eyes on you with a charming and funny grimace on his face.

“Sorry ‘bout my brother, you know... too many punches”. He has captivated your friends, who are gasping for him and the honeyed tone he’s using, covered by a raspy voice. “He has watched you looking at him and he was nervous, but he’s not a bad guy. Just a little asshole. But he’s worth it, believe me”.

“Okay”. You reply slowly, raising an eyebrow earning your attention little by little.

“He has begged me to not come, but I think you’re too smart to not have a date with him”.

“Your brother was right, you didn’t have to come. And you’re wrong, more or less. I’m very smart, but having a date with him doesn’t seem a very intelligent idea”.

“Got it. But he’ll be waiting for you at seven in Kaleo’s, tomorrow night”. A negative it’s not an option to the soldier, showing you his perfect white teeth in a huge smile clapping his hands before leaving. “Good night, ladies. Have a good time”.

Since last night, you've been debating with your friends if you should go to the date just to prove both men were wrong. Lucy would call you crying if you text her in case the guy is another idiot.

The first test is to see if he'd wait for you, arriving thirty minutes later than the hour William told you. Your heart can't help but race a little when you find the blonde boxer sitting on the hood of a black Mustang, in front of the restaurant. Wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans, he has both legs crossed and his hands laced over his lap. Head bowed down and a sigh escaping his lips as he checks the clock on his wrist. Poor guy, he's thinking you are not going to come.

You send a picture of him to the chat group where your friends are asking you if he's still there and, in less than a second, you receive a bunch of heart emojis from all of them. Keeping your phone in a pocket, as you tuck in your hands too, you begin to walk towards him. Step by step. Taking your time with a soft smirk curving your lips as you come closer and closer. Watching him texting someone too, you roll your eyes, imagining it's to some random chick to hang out with, due you have stood him up. Until you're almost leaning above his shoulder and you see he's texting his brother —who is very interested in knowing if you're there or not. You melt as he replies: “amma wait another thirty minutes, maybe there's traffic”.

“You can say to your brother I'm here”. You whisper into his ear, taking him by surprise and causing the boxer to jump off from the hood.

“Oh, fuck. You scared the shit outta m— Where you readin' my phone?”

“Nah, I've some witch in me”. You lie terrible, feeling goosebumps on your arms when his gesture changes suddenly.

A grin like a Cheshire cat decorates his face, offering you his phone as he pressed the small microphone in the bottom right corner.

“Hey, big brother, I came. I hope you weren't wrong”.

“I'm Ben, by the way”. He introduces himself as keeping his phone in a pocket, to offer you his right hand.

“(Y/N)”. You stretch it then, feeling a little nervous at his touch.

“So, this is the plan. We have a beer, and if you think I'm a freak, you can run away before dinner. No questions, no explanations. You just… leave”.

God, that's really sweet. He's nervous too and you can see in his blue eyes how scared he is if you really decide to disappear.

“Deal”. You accept, tilting your head to the restaurant.

A couple of minutes later Ben is sitting in front of you and the first thing that captivates your attention is the fact that he doesn't put his phone on the table. Living in the technology era, everybody keeps an eye on their devices. Constantly. But he's not like everybody. He wants to talk. Know about you. What you do in your free time, what you do for a living, what unveils you at night… And you talk for hours.

Ben tells you what pushed him to be in the army, why he decided to dedicate his life to boxing and he also jokes about how you could fix him up after his fighting. Something like a plan of the future. Together. As friends —as he points out to not make you feel uncomfortable, thinking that he is forcing you to have a relationship. You also discover that your taste in music and movies are very similar, just like your hobbies. And that makes you think about the fact that William will tell you “I wasn't wrong”.

The boxer gladly takes you home, not stopping your chat even when one of the two of you doesn't know what to say, Benny has shown you in some way he enjoys too much the sound of your voice though —how it goes a little higher when you're excited about something, how your throat vibrates when you laugh. And he's falling in love with the disgusted tic that wrinkles your nose when you don't like something, in a funny gesture.

You would die for staying together a little more, but you have obligations to attend tomorrow and your friends haven't ceased sending your texts asking you how it's going. As Ben stops his car next to your house, you sigh not knowing what to do —if just say bye, thank you, ask for his number, kiss him? Yes, you'd like to kiss him right now, but what does it say about you? Should you wait until the second date?

“Got a fight tomorrow night if you're free”. His proposition pushes you back to reality, turning at him on your seat while resting a shoulder against it. “You can invite your friends, mine will be there”.

“Your brother too?” You ask giggling, noticing the change on his grimace to somewhat underwhelmed because of your interest.

“Yeah, he will come”. Ben mumbles pressing his lips after nodding briefly.

“Ugh… Is he the kind of person who has fun saying I told you?”

Ben's gesture suddenly changes again. The shine in his blue deep eyes reappears and you provoke him a strong laugh when you furrow your nose like he literally adores.

“You've had a good night then?”

“Yes”. You don't hesitate to respond, leaning towards him to press your lips on his cheek with a loud kiss.

“See? He told you”. Ben can't help but make fun of you, earning a soft punch to his shoulder that makes him laugh one more time. “It's in the Holou gym, at seven”.

“Okay, I'll not forget it”. You reply, taking your phone and setting an alarm an hour before starting to have time to get ready. “Good night, Ben”.

“Good night, (Y/N)”.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221

TRIPLE FRONTIER: @phoenixhalliwell @goldielocks2004 @pedritomando @spideysimpossiblegirl @im-an-adult-ish @chibsytelford

#triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #benny miller x reader #ben miller #ben miller x reader #benny miller

[8clarify8]

Call Me if You Want A Good Time

This is for @theluckiestwitchathogwarts for the @mlsecretsanta I sincerely apologize that it’s taken me so long to finish this for you. 

The number stared back at Marinette as she clutched the leather strap of her purse, the only graffiti in this run down bar’s bathroom that she couldn’t take her eyes away from was someone had scrawled in big pointy letters: CALL ME IF YOU WANT A GOOD TIME!

It mocked Marinette, tempted her even as she was not having a good time currently. This bar wasn’t her first choice for a date, but the guy she was seeing played in a band that was playing here tonight.  

Which was cool to tell her friends that she was dating a bassist for a band, that was until one of the groupies tried to roofie her drink. Now it wasn’t so cool, and she wasn’t having a good time. 

She hid in this seedy bathroom that had graffiti covering every inch of the space, but it all looked like it was directing her attention to the phone number. 

Sweat beaded down her cheek and she bit her lip to try to focus on anything other than the headache that was starting. 

Before she realized what was happening her phone was in her hand placed against her ear, and a masculine voice spoke from the other side. 

“Hello?” 

Oh, god. Marinette didn’t know what she was doing. 

“Umm… hi? Are you the Call me if you want a good time, guy? I found your number in this bar--” 

“Oh? Oh yeah! I sure am. I take it you want a good time?” 

“I want an excuse to get out of here.” Marinette rubbed the heel of her palm into her eye, effectively ruining whatever makeup Alya had done for her that evening. 

He paused on the other side of the line for a minute. “Not having a good time?”

Marinette tried her best not to choke on her anxiety. “Not at all.” 

“Ok, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna bail on however you’re with. Just Irish goodbye them. And meet me in the alleyway in two minutes.” 

“Two minutes?” Marinette didn’t know who this was or how they were going to get there so fast, but they hung up. 

This was do or die time. 

Marinette composed herself in the mirror that was covered in band stickers and lipstick kisses. She was right, she did mess up Alya’s makeup. She took one of the makeup wipes from her purse and wiped away all of Alya’s hard work for a beautiful red smoky eye and just refreshed with a new simple winged eyeliner. 

The simple winged eyeliner looks underwhelming next to her bold lipstick and outfit, and in her misery she wiped away the lipstick as well and replaced it with just tinted chap stick. Marinette gathered her curled hair and put it in a bun, and just wanted to get out of the bar. 

Her mood soured more after she left the bathroom only to find the groupie Lila hanging off of Luka, the guy she was seeing, in a booth further in the bar. Lila was the one that tried to roofie Marinette, and she didn’t want any part of that glass of controlling. 

She caught Luka’s blue eyes for a second, she offered him an apologetic smile as she slipped out the door of the bar. 

It was a warm night for spring in Paris, with a full moon looming overhead like an old friend. The wind picked up for a moment blowing leaves and papers down the streets. There weren't as many people out and about or loitering around, but as she rounded the corner to stand in the alleyway her interest heightened. 

“Are you the one that called about a good time?” Marinette’s heart thundered in her ears as the voice spoke up from behind her-- but worse than that it was a voice she recognized instantly. 

“Chat Noir?” she squeaked, as she slowly turned around. There in his latex suited glory was indeed Paris’s very own hero, Chat Noir. 

He leaned against the brick wall, lazily swinging his tail around in his clawed glove. 

“The very same.” He sauntered up closer to her, and his own green eyes widened as he got closer to her. “Marinette? What are you doing here?” 

She rubbed her arms, and suddenly felt very exposed with the crop top lace up vest she wore and ripped up skinny jeans-- she even accented it with spiked jewelry. 

But it wasn’t her. 

“There was this guy I was seeing, and he’s in a band that’s playing here tonight. But…” She rubbed her arm, the one where Lila had gripped her tightly earlier that evening. “A groupie got jealous and tried to hurt me.”

Chat Noir sighed, stalling for a moment with his hands outreached to her. Marinette knew this sign well enough by now, he was wanting to pick her up. She adjusted the strap of her purse to cross her body instead of just sitting on her shoulder, and then she nodded to him. 

He picked her up easily, bridal style was his usual way of carrying her when she needed to be Marinette at the moment and not Ladybug.

It took Marinette a little too long to realize something, it was as they were bounding across the rooftops, jumping from street to street that it clicked. 

“Wait, you put your personal number in a bar bathroom?” Marinette looked up at him, shocked and confused. He only shrugged. 

“Is this what you do on your Saturday nights?” she teased him as they stopped on a balcony of a church. 

“No, you’re actually the first one to call.” He shrugged, lazily walking the thin line of the beam, circling around one of the pillars as he made his way back around. 

“What’s with meeting you in the alley?” Marinette leaned against the railing he was walking on, and he stepped over her with all the ease and grace of a proper cat. 

“I’m an alley cat, you know?” He smiled down at her, and Marinette rolled her eyes in turn to his shenanigans. 

“Oh yes, a rough and tumble alley cat who calls the streets home.” She laughed at the idea of it, and he laughed after a moment too. But there was something unsettling in his eyes after they were done laughing. 

“I do.” He said after a quiet moment. “More of a home than I ever had, it feels like.”  

Marinette shifted uncomfortably next to him. She had a home, loving friends and family. It was weird to think if she didn’t. 

“Well, if you ever need another one--” she couldn’t believe she was saying this, “-- you can always stop by mine.” 

Chat Noir blinked at her, surprise etched into the pattern of his iris. He grinned at her after a moment, jumping down to the balcony and bending down in front of her. 

“We’re here to make your night more fun, so let’s have fun.” 

Marinette hid a smile behind her hand, “what will we do?” 

Mischievousness glinted in his eyes. “Do you like going fast?” 

She loved it. She loved the exhilaration she got as Ladybug, swinging above Paris and being able to cross the city within seconds. 

“I do,” she breathed. Realizing that he was going to carry her on his back, she tentatively climbed onto him and firmly grasped her wrists around his neck. 

“Don’t drop me.” She warned him, but the smile he gave her looking over his shoulder assured her that he would never dare to dream of doing such a thing. 

“I’ll never let you fall, Marinette.” It was so simple, so easy to say. It wasn’t his usual banter, puns, or pining over Ladybug that she had gotten used too. 

No, this was something entirely different-- and that simple statement made her heart flutter. 

Her screams turned into laughter as they flew through the night sky-- Ladybug was fast, but Chat Noir was  faster. His speed and dexterity outmatched Ladybug’s, though for normal people you couldn’t really tell. 

He leaped over the Seine like it was merely a puddle and not a river flowing through town, and she laughed in his ear as the wind twisted her ponytail and rushed through her ears. He spun them around poles and columns as he came across them, making Marinette properly dizzy. But she continued to laugh, and just enjoyed the fact that it wasn’t her putting in the effort to go fast. 

It was Chat putting in the effort to make her feel better. They passed by people playing instruments and performers on the streets on their way to the Eiffel tower, which sparkled and glowed with the thousands of lights that adorned it. 

“Hold on tight to me, ok?” He called back to her, and she nodded. Her hands were getting sore from gripping so tightly but she knew that she didn’t want to fall now-- not while he was scaling the Eiffel tower, leaping from cross beam to cross beam. 

They passed by couples and fans alike who waved or cheered as Chat leaped by, and Marinette tucked her cheek in his muscled leather back and felt him flex and move underneath her. And she could feel his heart beating quickly, probably just from the exercise she told herself. 

Marinette tried not to see his flushed face as they sat together at the top of the tower, all of Paris laid before them like twinkling stars here on earth. And Chat tried not to let her see his lingering gaze on her face, or her lips. 

It wasn’t the good time she was expecting, but it was the one she was needing. 

#miraculousladybugsecretsanta #luckiestwitchathogwarts #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #marichat #secret santa #ml secret santa

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Nerd 11

Previously on Nerd

There weren’t any nerves because of the dance. Lexa had been forced to go to dances by her sister in an effort to make her feel included, and then with friends from various teams who all seemed to have similar goals. It was just a dance that would last a few hours and then she’d be done and that was okay. After going to about a dozen already in her life, Lexa couldn’t spend too much time allowing herself to be nervous. 

The nerves came because Clarke promptly informed her that her parents were at a conference for the week, and she should come over after the dance. That was a very good invitation. It was probably the best invitation and Lexa knew what it meant. And she wasn’t sure about it. But she was also afraid of lying to her parents. Because she couldn’t rightly tell them she was going over her girlfriend’s house for the night, no matter how supportive they were with their new “gay daughter” parenting books and Pride-colored paraphernalia. 

The nerves came because she had a girlfriend and was going to a dance with her. They came because she was somehow dating the head cheerleader, and she fell into meeting her and what if it went badly? What if she went over to Clarke’s place and forgot how to kiss? Or breathe? Or stand? Because all seemed likely with the fact that her brain short circuited when she saw her girlfriend in her cheerleading uniform. Surely seeing her in anything less than fully-clothed would lead to disaster. 

Lexa took a deep breath and stared at herself in her mirror before adjusting her hair and then her sleeve. She was afraid to call her sister. She didn’t want anyone to know. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to know, just that she really wanted to go over Clarke’s place and not go to the dance at all. But she didn’t know how to go to Clarke’s, in the euphemistic sense. Despite all of the research that just seemed to cloud her brain even further, the idea of sex was intriguing and scary, but not altogether frightening. 

“Well, golly, aren’t you a real dreamboat?” 

Despite herself and the worry that crept in just a few seconds before, Lexa blushed and smiled before pushing herself away from the mirror, grabbing her leather jacket a second later. The conversation she had with her reflection shed no light on her predicament. 

“Are you sure this isn’t stupid?” 

“I’m very sure,” Clarke promised, leaning against the doorway. “You are a very dreamy date and I’m so glad you offered to take little ol’ me to the Hop.” 

“Are you going to talk like this all night?” Lexa cocked her head as she slid on her jacket, careful to not mess up the slicked hair and pristine white shirt. 

“Sure am, Daddy-o.” 

“You look adorable, by the way,” she offered when she reached the door and her date didn’t move, just smiled. 

Hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, Clarke’s dress was out of an episode of Happy Days or something, poodle skirt in place and all. She looked like she was made to be an advertisement for apple pie and the American way circa 1957. It was in that moment that Lexa realized she was dating someone who liked going full into whatever they were going to do. This wasn’t a put together costume— this was precise. 

“Thanks. I wanted to make sure a cool cat like you had a primo date.” 

“This is a lot more comfortable than prom will be.” 

“If I get to go. No one has asked me yet,” Clarke teased.

“I’m sure someone will,” Lexa promised, kissing her finally as she reached the door, eager to have that feeling again. 

“That’s true. I’m a cheerleader. I get asked to prom. And I think I’ll say yes to whoever asks me first.” 

“Good plan.”

“Are you going to come over after?” 

Lexa gulped slightly before nodding, afraid to say to many words. That was tough. 

“No funny business, just wanted to hang out with you alone. It’s been a while since we’ve hung out.” 

“True,” she nodded, smiling as Clarke adjusted the lapels of her jacket.  “But maybe a little funny business.” 

There it was. Clarke smiled a little and then it grew into a lot, spreading wide on her cheeks as she kissed the corner of Lexa’s mouth. It burnt the entirety of her girlfriend’s neck and tips of her ears. Lexa felt like she could breathe because Clarke dispelled her fear with such an off-handed joke, that she tried to remember to be bummed about not having sex. She’d put so much effort into figuring out how she felt about it, it seemed like a waste. 

“Hurry up, Lex!” her mother called from down the stairs. “I can’t wait to see how cute you two are!” 

“Thanks for being around,” Clarke offered before letting go of her girlfriend. “I think this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.” 

“Thanks for letting me touch your boobs. That’s been one of the best things to ever happen to me in my entire life.” 

“Now that’s a compliment.” 

“Yours too,” Lexa smiled before putting her arm over Clarke’s shoulders as they made their way down the stairs to the waiting parents. 

“Oh my! Lexa you look so cute! And Clarke, you are a dream!” 

“I’m not cute, I’m tough,” Lexa explained. 

“I think that’s one of those things that if you say it, it’s not true,” her father offered. “But that jacket does look very cool on you. Grandpa would be absolutely thrilled to have a gay granddaughter greaser.” 

His wife hit his chest as Lexa shook her head and laughed. 

“Alright. I think we’re ready to leave.” 

“Wait wait,” her mother bustled about. “I need some pictures.” 

Lexa groaned despite her girlfriend’s arms wrapping around her waist, always ready for a picture. Somehow, Lexa had pictures of her and Clarke on her phone. She saw pictures of herself on her date’s Instagram. She had a strip of pictures from the photobooth in the winter festival downtown taped beside one of her monitors in her room. Clarke documented and Lexa stopped fighting it. She was someone who wanted to remember now. 

“Mom, we don’t—”

“Just smile. Clarke is humoring me.” 

“Clarke humors everyone.” 

“And that’s why she’s my favorite partner you’ve brought home,” she muttered as she snapped a few pictures. “There. That wasn’t so bad. Was it?” 

“It’s part of the routine,” Clarke reminded her girlfriend. “You just have to let it happen.” 

“I don’t have to like it.” 

“Lexa never did like pictures,” her father explained, looking at a few he took himself on his own phone. “She covered her face in her picture with Santa when she was four.” 

“I’d love to see that,” the cheerleader decided. 

“Nope, it’s gone. Burned. Lost to time and space,” Lexa shook her head, staunchly refusing. She ushered her date toward the door. “Have a good night. Thanks for the jacket. I’ll see you both tomorrow night.” 

“Be home for dinner please!” 

“I will.” 

“Make sure you tell Luna we said—”

The front door shut and Lexa paused before letting out the deep breath she’d been holding in her chest. She still had her arm over Clarke’s shoulder, and she felt the slight chill in the March air, but she didn’t move. 

“That was embarrassing. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t. Your parents are truly some of the coolest people I’ve ever met.” 

“They’re not.” 

“I know you don’t believe that,” Clarke chastised as she opened the passenger side door for her date. “You love them and the attention they give you and the love and support.” 

“Sometimes it’s overwhelming.” 

“Better than underwhelming.” 

“They really like you,” Lexa offered as she put on her seatbelt and the truck roared to life. 

“I bet that’d stop if they knew you were coming over tonight,” she grinned, almost proud to be doing something she shouldn’t. “Or that you propositioned me for a little funny business.” 

All of her blood rushed to her cheek and Lexa felt her brain go through a billion options for what to say next. The real flaw of her innate design being that she then tried to say all billion options at one time and it just left her gaping. 

“But I’d win them back by promising to have nothing but pure intentions with their baby girl.” 

“That’d save me from another safe sex talk.”

Clarke chuckled as she flipped from reverse back to drive and pointed them toward the school gym. 

“Nothing but necking and malts for Lexa Woods. I have a reputation to uphold,” Clarke reminded her as she pressed play so that a feisty little bop started playing on the radio, perfectly in line with the theme of the night. 

Amazed, Lexa looked at the tape deck and then at the girl driving who did a stupid dance to an outrageously peppy song by the Ronettes because Clarke made a soundtrack and it was a movie except it was real, and that was all that mattered. 

Clarke sang along, nudging her girlfriend until she hummed along as well. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“So you admit, it was fun.” 

“It was the most fun I’ve ever had at a dance,” Lexa finally acquiesced as she slid off hr coat and hung it on the banister. 

“I will take all the credit then,” Clarke decided as she kicked off her shoes and made her way down the hall, flipping on lights as she went. “I’m clearly an amazing date to these types of things. I should hire myself out.” 

For a few minutes, Clarke kept going on about the dance, but Lexa was somewhat distracted. She heard her voice, tossed down the hall as she approached, filled with a kind of happiness that was contagious. But Lexa found herself looking around the house that she’d only been in once before, now fully able to enjoy it without fear of running into Clarke’s parents. She wasn’t sure if it was her that was nervous to meet them, or Clarke’s possible fear. 

But now, she gazed at a few pictures on the wall before moving into the modern living room. She always thought her parents were sparse, disinterested decorators, but Clarke’s place took the cake. It was spartan, but on purpose, which Lexa never really understood. Maybe it was the lack of people, maybe it was the night, maybe it was what she already knew, but it didn’t feel as warm as her house, there were no signs of life, and Lexa furrowed as she touched the back of the couch. 

“My mom re-did the whole place,” Clarke interrupted Lexa’s perusal, leaning against the wall closer to the dining room. “It’s for when my dad needs a wheelchair. He can get around better.”

“I wasn’t—”

“It’s not quite right, right?” 

As much as she wanted to lie, Lexa didn’t have it in her. Instead she just shrugged and tried to find something. 

“It’s a beautiful room. It reminds me of something you’d see in a movie. Perfect, you know?” 

“Maybe that’s why I’m so obsessed with making a mess,” Clarke suggested, earning a smile as Lexa approached her slowly, still looking around. “My mom gets so mad, but I leave clothes all over the place, homework, books, trash, cups, just so it seems like we live here.” 

“Maybe you’re just a troublemaker.” 

Pulled back from too much thinking, Clarke snorted but smiled at the accusation. There was a little of that to it all, too, but no one had to know that part. 

“Want to shower? I can grab some snacks.” 

Lexa nodded, disliking the feeling of sweat and hair gel and make up and all of it on her skin, terrified to have to sleep in it. But she didn’t move. Just stood in front of the girl who tentatively reached out her hands and snaked a finger through her belt loops, tugging forward. 

Pressed against Clarke, Lexa anchored her hands on Clarke’s ribs and smiled, eyes darting toward her lips. 

“Can I, uh,” Lexa furrowed, her brain eventually overcoming the haze that happened when she was near Clarke, her brain finally thinking for itself despite how disorienting it was. “I really would like to— There’s... “ she clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. “Don’t move, okay?” 

Amused by the display, Clarke just nodded and watched Lexa overthink too much. She could never really articulate that this was why she enjoyed Lexa; this brain, this honesty, this feeling that nothing else in the world existed. She was quietly consuming. 

But slowly, Lexa leaned forward, and Clarke held her breath when she felt Lexa’s against her skin. And she gripped her fingers tighter. And she closed her eyes when Lexa kissed her cheek, kissed her jaw, moved to her neck. A hand moved to the other side of her throat and it must have felt Clarke gulp as warm lips softly kissed her pulse. Even though her eyes were knit tight, they rolled back at the feeling, taking a few extra seconds to realize it wasn’t happening anymore. 

“Fuck,” she whispered. 

“I, um, I like that. Uh, the. Um,” Lexa nodded slightly, bashful. “I like kissing your neck. I thought about that a lot tonight. You look very pretty.” 

As she said it, eyes roved over Clarke’s face, moved to her own hand that was cupping her neck, and Lexa smiled as her thumb moved along jaw bone. And when Clarke opened her eyes, she smiled involuntarily and pushed hair from her face. 

“That’s a fairly good place to start some funny business. And you should definitely give me a minute.” 

Lexa furrowed and watched the blood rush to Clarke’s cheeks. She could almost feel the burn beneath her fingertips. 

“I’m sorr—” 

A hand went over her mouth as Clarke shook her head and smiled, taking a shaky breath as she got her wits back. 

“I want you to feel comfortable doing whatever you want,” she promised. “And fuck if I didn’t love that. You don’t have to be afraid of me, or messing up, or… I don’t know. You’re allowed to kiss me, however you want.” 

“Like right now or in general?” 

Clarke chuckled and shook her head, letting it flop back against the wall with a thud as she rolled her eyes. She knew the look Lexa had on her face, perplexed and unsure, and she knew the furrow would be there. She knew that all of it would make her hear feel warm. 

“My girlfriend doesn’t need to get a permission slip every time she wants to touch me. In fact, I’d prefer a real blanket level of consent that you trust I’ll stop something I don’t like.” 

“Who’s that?” Lexa furrowed. “Oh. Wait. Me?” 

Clarke sighed and moved her hands to hold Lexa’s ears as she wiggled her head slightly, Lexa’s smile finally coming despite her eagerness to stifle it. 

“If you think you’re woman enough for the job.” 

“And I get to kiss your neck like a lot. And you can sit on my lap at parties. And go to dances together. And all of that?”

“Those are some of the basic requirements, yes, but also not limited to listening to me talk during movies,” Clarke explained, earning a bit of a frown, which just further solidified her affections, “Letting me be your pep squad during soccer and track season.”

“With cookies?” 

“With cookies. And definitely kissing me often. Holding my hand sometimes. Letting me give you rides after work. Being someone I talk to about anything. And definitely letting me grab your butt a lot.” 

“Should I be writing this down?” 

Clarke laughed, her hands slipping slightly as she wrapped her arms around Lexa’s shoulders and hugging her tightly. 

“Just keep being the girl who walked into the diner and texted me all night.” 

“I can do that.” 

“Good.” 

Lexa smiled, her heart racing as she hugged her girlfriend back. She said that word in her head a million times in under a second. It flashed quicker than sound. 

XXXXXXXX

“I feel like a whole new girl. Showers are the best invention of all of human history,” Clarke moaned as she walked into the bedroom, toweling at her wet hair. 

“I’m sure the polio vaccine must be up toward the top. Or electricity. People are nuts about sliced bread.” 

“I stand by my pick for the best invention. Yours are boring.” 

Lexa just rolled her eyes and smiled as she readjusted in Clarke’s bed, crossing her legs and snuggling deeper into the pillows as some old movie she didn’t recognize played on the television. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Clarke finish brushing her hair before clicking off a light and making her way around the bed. Her eyes never left the figure as the room was lit only by the black and white screen. 

“Is this okay? I can stay in the spare?” Clarke offered as she lifted the edge of her duvet. 

“No, no this is… yeah. This is great.” 

“Good.” 

With a quick jump, Clarke was beside her, though they were separated with Lexa outside of the cocoon. Lexa smelled Clarke’s soap and her room and it was more than enough. 

“You called me your girlfriend,” Lexa began after a few moments of quiet. 

“I did. I guess I had been in my head for a while.” 

“I never imagined that I’d be someone’s girlfriend. Or… that you’d be mine. Does that mean you’ll stick around?”

“I really want to.” 

“Even when I’m not… even when like, my-- I don’t. Even when I-- when I-- when this happens and I can’t say words right?” Lexa finally blurted. 

“Especially then,” Clarke promised. Lexa nodded. 

“Sometimes it’s like my brain doesn’t work right.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just that it… It sometimes. I know how I feel, but sometimes I can’t get it out.”

“Yeah. I’ve noticed. But when you get there, it’s fantastic.” 

Lexa blushed slightly at the observation, suddenly confused as to how someone saw her and knew these things. She wanted to know what she looked like to Clarke so badly. She wanted to see the things she liked that she hated about herself. She wanted to know who she was to someone like that. Instead she just sighed and offered a small smile. 

“We joke that my sister got all of the feeling. I like movies because they make people feel things.”

“I don’t think you’re bad at saying things. I think you’re precise, and I think people are impatient. But I’d rather hear what you have to say than most people.” 

Clarke watched as her girlfriend furrowed and stared at the movie, her jaw clenching somewhat, the purposefulness of her thoughts wrestling around her brain and playing across her face. And when she turned to her, in the dim light of the bedroom, the movie flashed across her face dramatically. She very much wanted to know what Lexa saw that made her furrow lessen and her smile grow just the slightest. 

“I really like you,” Lexa confessed.

It was very honest. It was exceedingly honest and pure and Clarke knew it because Lexa put so much weight into it and so much thought, debating it from every side before she confessed. 

“See? You’re great with feelings,” Clarke teased. 

“Nah.” 

“I think I might try a page out of your book.” 

“Oh?” 

Clarke moved only slightly to sit up beside Lexa, moving so she was on her knees. She smiled and pressed her hand against her chest, pinning her there gently. 

“Just. Don’t move, okay?” 

Lexa nodded, almost imperceptibly, as if Clarke’s request started immediately. With a small smile, Clarke moved forward, her lips on Lexa’s  softly at first and then deeper. She was kissing her girlfriend, and she was allowed. 

But Lexa wasn’t good at listening. She pushed forward and held Clarke back, enjoying the feeling of her tongue so much she whimpered. It didn’t matter. Clarke straddled her and the covers got tangled and her hands were on hips. She gripped there tightly. 

When lips moved to her neck, Lexa knew she was a goner. There wasn’t anything better in life. She moaned, unsure of why that was a noise she now made. Clarke just smiled. 

“I don’t want to move too quickly,” Clarke muttered. “But you are insanely hot.” 

“It’s not that warm in here.” 

That was it. Lexa ruined it in two minutes. Clarke pulled back and looked at her with an amused smile. She adjusted her glasses, finally tearing her hands from feeling her girlfriends hips. 

“You really don’t know how absolutely sexy you are, do you?” 

“God, me? No,” Lexa scoffed, blushing slightly at the notion, earning a roll of eyes before Clarke leaned forward again. 

Lips moved to the other side of her neck and Lexa fumbled with words she didn’t need, so she kept quiet. Clarke’s hips moved slightly and Lexa felt her thighs shift, making her woozy. 

“When do you want me to stop?” Clarke whispered, her hand somehow halfway up Lexa’s shirt without her noticing until she felt fingertips near her bra. 

“Fuck. Never.” 

Clarke chuckled and pulled away before earning a needy, heady kiss from the girl beneath her. 

“How far are we going?” Clarke asked, breathless and aching. 

“How far can we go?” 

“How far do you want to go?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. But I want to do something.” 

There was a smile that started on Clarke’s lips despite the honesty Lexa was hopeful was enough. She certainly wasn’t sure what she was allowed to do; she didn’t even know that having a girlfriend meant she had to let her talk through movies, and frankly that part was still concerning and something she wanted to remember to come back to in the near future. 

With a slight shift, Clarke moved so she wasn’t straddling her girlfriend anymore and laid down on the bed beside her, hair drying and making a mess around her. The movie played and didn’t illuminate much, but Lexa saw Clarke start to lift up her shirt, saw her stomach show in the grey of the screen. 

“I didn’t invite you over for funny business,” Clarke promised. “But since we’re here, right?” 

Lexa couldn’t really speak. She just nodded eagerly, her mouth obscenely dry. She wanted water. She wanted to taste Clarke’s hip bones. No sex talk with her parents prepared her for this, and even thinking about their sex talks did nothing to deter her in the slightest. 

“I… I… I don’t know what to do.” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“Can I…?” Lexa shifted, her hand stuttering over Clarke’s at the edge of her shirt. She waited, hovering until she earned a nod. 

Clarke saw the studious face. She saw the hesitation mingling with the dark of the room and the light from the television. She was entranced, oddly vulnerable, and insanely turned on and she wasn’t sure what else was going to happen just that she never trusted anyone as much as Lexa because Lexa looked at her like she was precious and a natural wonder of the world, and no one had a right to look at anyone like that. Never. 

Very slowly, Lexa let her fingertips find Clarke’s skin. She sat up, leaned forward, watched as she touched her in the light of the movie. She moved up along the ridge of ribs there, feeling them buried, feeling them shift and swell as she took a breath. 

With a swallow and a quick look at Clarke, she pushed the shirt a little higher, her breath growing quicker as she did until she stopped. Clarke bit her lip and swallowed what felt like a purr, confused as to why her body did that. But Lexa placed her palm on her rib, ran her thumb along her chest and kissed the other side. 

“Jesus,” Clarke whispered. 

It didn’t seem quite right, that someone could be so tender. She wasn’t fragile, but there was something to be being held like she would break. 

“That’s what you wanted to do?” 

“Yeah,” Lexa smiled, kissing her again, inching the shirt up higher. “One of the things. Thank you for… thanks for going this speed.” 

“What speed is this?” 

“Unsure.” 

Clarke watched Lexa not push her luck. She watched her look at her hand. She felt her kiss her one more time before pulling away and staring back at her, content, as if she was happier than she ever felt she should allow herself to be. 

She held her own hands at her shirt, prepared to take it off. Prepared for much more. But the look on Lexa’s face was perfect, and before she could decide, Lexa shifted and laid down beside her, kissing her neck, kissing her jaw, running her nose along her cheek before kissing the corner of her mouth. 

“You’re going to kill me, Woods.” 

“Shut up and kiss me.” 

“You can’t talk to me like that, I’m your girlfriend.” 

Lexa beamed, even with her eyes closed. Fingertips tickled along Clarke’s ribs and a leg shifted against her hip. 

“I really need you to write me a rule book.”

next

[lianneoelke]

The Vancouver Island & Sunshine Coast Loop: A Solo Cycle Tour of BC’s Finest Retirement Communities. Part 2

Day 4: I hit the road at 7am. A quick ride on the Trans Canada woke me up and brought me to my daily bakery stop.

Serious Coffee for Serious Cyclists.

After second breakfast, I only had to follow one road: the 19A. With wide shoulders and no navigation required, I made good time up the coast. It would have been top notch riding if it wasn’t for the EXCESSIVE WIND that blew all day for NO REASON AT ALL. 

The best views were at Union Bay, where I slowed down a little too much until I realized the ferry I wanted to catch was coming up soon. I gunned it the last 25km to Comox, which was, shockingly, FULL OF HILLS. I gave up on my granny gear zen and let my rage carry me to the ferry terminal, where I caught the 3:25 just in time. The wind refused to chill out so I sat inside and charged my phone while I watched the white caps dance on the ocean.

Once I landed in Powell River it was only a few minutes to the campsite. After 113km my legs once again felt perfectly normal, which was weird. Sitting on a bike saddle, however, was deeply uncomfortable. I decided to walk the 3km to Townsite Brewing, stopping to gorge on veggie korma and stuffed potato naan on the way. 

I didn’t have room for another beer but I drank it anyway because I had biked HUNDREDS OF KILOMETERS to get there. 

I met this beautiful cat on the way back to the campsite, where I quickly fell asleep.

Day 5 began with gear sorting. It seemed like a lot.

I was a bit apprehensive about biking on the Sunshine Coast as I heard it was even hillier than Vancouver Island, but if the family camping next to me could bike to Lund from Powell River with a trailer and a young kid, there's no reason Gavin and I couldn't. The hills were very present, but still doable. I only had 27km to go, and I would have enjoyed the long decent into Lund if I knew I wouldn't have to climb back up eventually.

Lund was a tiny, bustling hub. I was surprised at the size of the grocery and liquor store (also surprised there was a liquor store at all). The store didn’t have much fresh produce, but I can live off beans, chips, and hot dogs for DAYS, thank you very much. Next I headed to Nancy's Bakery for a couple sandos and one of their famous blackberry cinnamon buns (which I'd been thinking about since the last time I was there, two years ago). I found a patio spot next to an outlet and gave my phone one last top up, because I couldn’t count on charging anything on Savary Island. With a couple hours before my water taxi reservation, I found myself on my own with nothing to do, which hadn't happened yet on the trip. I decided to call my parents and tell them what I was doing. I promised my mom I’d write a blog post so I could share some photos (hi, mom!). It was bizzy on Savary Island: rubbermaids, bags, boxes of booze, bikes, and a line of trucks lined up the dock. The people quickly dispersed into various homes, cabins, guest houses, resorts, and moss covered trailers. I went up the hill (no matter where I went, it was up a hill) to the campground: a loose scattering of wooden tent pads on some guy’s property. The owner told me “There is no check in. You just find a site that looks good and settle in.” Cool.

Of course the only rain I saw on the trip happened as soon as I arrived at a sub-tropical island. I expected to have a nap ASAP, but instead opted for a cold shower and laundry in the sink. I couldn’t fully clean my smelly bike shorts with Camp Suds; I could only make them slightly less smelly. 

Savary is a long, skinny island filled with lush rainforest and edged with white sandy beaches. After a comfortable and pitch black night, I was up at a decent hour. Day 6 was my rest day, which meant biking without all my gear. My legs felt overqualified for the 8km rip across the island and back. 

It was Gavin’s rest day, too. 

After a big brunch scramble and a hot dog, I headed to the beach, which was just as sunny and glorious as I imagined. I took a dip in the ocean, read, ate a bag of chips and a hot dog. When I ran out of food I went back to my camp and made an underwhelming dinner of overcooked veggies and terrible instant mashed potatoes with a hot dog. 

One of the best books I’ve read in a long time. It’s about a girl growing up in a survivalist, ultra conservative, and unsafe family fighting for education, despite never setting foot in a classroom until the age of 17. I left my copy at a community library on Savary. Feel free to go get it. On day 7 I caught the morning water taxi back to Lund, then made one more stop at Nancy's before tackling the 3km uphill. It was overcast and muggy. Sweaty and grimy. The ride to Powell River was quick though, and I treated myself to a Buddha bowl and cold beer for lunch. 

It was another 27km to Saltery Bay...

... which was an exceptionally beautiful provincial park.

Of course the campground attendant came to collect fees while I was in the middle of washing myself from a pot.

I felt resourceful that day. Like I belonged out there. It was the little things, like seeing the cycle route sign even though I didn’t see any other cyclists, collecting large rocks to hold my tent down because the ground was too hard for stakes, or improvising a bear hang because the campground didn’t have a bear proof locker for cyclists (get it together, Saltery). Part of me still feels like the kid who spends all her time reading, watching LOTR EE marathons, and making pizza at Panago for $6 an hour. I never grew up thinking of myself as athletic or woodsy, and compared to many people I'm not, but it's about time I realize I can do this on my own. And that I love it.

Day 8 began with a serene ferry ride to Earl's Cove. Out of the entire trip, I was the most nervous about the upcoming ride from Earl's to Sechelt. I knew it would be windy, narrow, and steep, and I didn’t want to end up schmucked on the side of the 101 because some yahoo hauling a yacht, four kayaks, and a dozen mountain bikes couldn't be bothered to slow down on a blind corner. But at this point I had 500km of experience, a bag of Sour Cherry Blasters, and my screaming pink cycling jersey to get through the day safely. It was relatively quiet early Wednesday morning, and the beautiful ride turned out to be one of my favourite sections.

I took a detour on Redrooffs Road after Half Moon Bay to get off the highway for a bit. It was scenic enough, but the elevation was stupid. I hadn’t walked Gavin up that many hills since Thetis Lake Regional Park. Things started to go downhill from there. Metaphorically of course, as the hills only went up. 

Traffic volume started to increase at Sechelt, where I stopped for candy. The Cherry Blasters picked me right up, but not even a sugar rush can hold off eight days of fatigue indefinitely. The last few kilometers to Gibsons weren't exactly painful, but they were not pleasant. My faith in Google Maps’ elevation estimates might never recover. My bike chain was dry and squeaking, but I thought if I could just make it to my destination and offload my gear I could zip back into town and find a bike shop and get some lubricant. In reality, once I finally arrived at Mike's place, after 83km and over 1400m of elevation gain, I couldn't bring myself to take the hill down into Gibsons again. "Can olive oil work on bike chains" is not my proudest Google search, but weary, smelly, and perpetually damp cyclists are nothing if not humble. And the answer is no, not really, but olive oil is better than nothing.

Thankfully Persephone Brewing was within walking distance. My healing began with an order of spring rolls and a rye farmhouse ale.

That evening, as I settled in to my tent, I heard the soft whisper of my couch back at home. The call of the bahn mis at Chickpea that Brian said were amazing. The whinny of my stupidly sensitive horse on Red Dead Redemption 2 Online. The sweet yet powerful purr of Alley Cat, my gentle golden nugget. I was a two hour ride away from completing the biggest physical achievement of my life. A year ago running 5k was a stretch, and biking 11km to Richmond was a chore. I wanted to do an ambitious cycle tour to see if I could. And I can. There’s nothing particularly special about me, or most people, but that doesn’t have to stop us from getting shit done. 

Day 9 was a quick ride down to the ferry, then a hilly ride through West Van on Marine Drive. Once I hit the Lions Gate Bridge, I knew I was home free.

Coming home after 9 days and 590km of a door-to-door solo cycle tour was incredibly satisfying.

Almost as satisfying as seeing my number one precious sweet potato again! 

This sweet pup is my number two. 

Maybe one day I’ll do a proper Google Maps route but this is the general idea.

Highlight(s): the views on Salt Spring, Sokka’s beautiful kitten face, the ride up from Nanaimo, the white sandy beaches at Savary, the peaceful ferry ride from Saltery, the surprisingly doable hills after Earl's Cove, the pics of my niece and nephew smiling on their first day back at school, the beers and food at Persephone, the moment I realized that I absolutely crushed every part of my ambitious plan. Lowlight: Thetis Lake Regional Park. Gold star: Gavin. This humble, unassuming, steel frame hybrid has been a true star, solid and dependable. I love this bike. I love what we can do together. Runner up: The weather. Almost perfect. Runner up: My legs. You know what you did.

#sunshinecoast #savaryisland #cycletour #cycletouring #camping #bc #british columbia #canada

[detroitbydark]

Moonbeams and Ridinghoods Chp 6

Pairing: Werewolf!Haz/Reader, Tom Holland/OC

Word Count: 2700+ 

Warnings: None

Summary: Y/N enjoys a girls day and makes a new friend.

A/N: Guess who's back? Back again? Me bitches! I really had fun with this chapter. There's not much of our boy but I wanted to world build just a bit if I could. I hope ya'll enjoy it.  

You'd taken the contract in London without so much as batting an eye at the description. London was selling point enough and you wanted out of your small town fast. It had seemed like a no brainer. You did that a lot, jumping into things without much thought for what would happen next. As you scan through your meager wardrobe your reminded that in the future it wouldn’t hurt you to make a plan. There’s scrubs for everyday of the week. There’s yoga pants, t-shirts and sports bras galore. You’ve got a handful of your favorite denim jeans, boots, tennis shoes, your lucky red hoodie and a few passable sweaters. What you don’t have is anything to go out on a fancy date in. Nothing. 

You’d verified the fancy too. When you’d messaged Harrison earlier you’d asked what you should wear. After you’d nixed the idea of your ‘birthday suit” he’d said a dress would be fine or “whatever made you feel comfortable”. Somehow, you didn’t think holey sweats and a tank top were going to cut it. 

After staring at your meager pickings for longer than necessary you grab your phone and ring Emily. 

“Hey girl! We doing dinner tonight?” she asks right off the bat.

“If we can shop first. Harrision’s taking me out on Saturday and I’ve got, literally, nothing to wear.” You explain pulling on jeans.

“Now, you're speaking my language. I’m going to dip out of here in fifteen. Can you be ready by four?” 

You look at the clock. It was half past three and all you had left was to run a brush through your hair and throw on some basic, everyday make-up. 

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

Emily had been even more underwhelmed by your closet than you had. 

“You do own a dress, right?” She asks giving you the side eye from the driver’s seat of the BMW she’d picked you up in. You snort lightly.

“Yes, I do in fact have a closet full of pretty dresses. They’re just not on this continent.” Emily chuckles.

“Just checking” she says turning off the main street onto a side road. “Well, I’m sure Caitlin will have something for you. She’s my go to. Honestly, she’s the best. Great selection and even some of her own designs” she explains as she parallel parks in front of a small storefront. Diamonds and Pearls is scrawled out in an elegant cursive script above the shop door. It’s cute. You can see racks set up throughout the small shop through the window and comfy chairs littered here and there. Emily hops out and waits for your by the door. You’d been hoarding your pay and while it didn’t look like somewhere you’d usually allow yourself to go you were excited to see what you could find. 

A petite redhead greets you as you enter and Emily scurries to wrap her in a hug. The women embrace for a moment, pressing their foreheads together gently before offering a pair of air kisses to one another's cheeks. They turn back to you.

“Y/N, this is Caitlin.”  You offer your hand for a shake and the woman gives you a funny smile before pulling you in for a hug.

“And to think, Americans call us uptight?” she jokes. You can’t help but laugh along with her. “Call me Cat.” She instructs. She’s petite with wild mane of auburn hair and green eyes that sparkle as she looks you over.

“Y/N is supposed to be going on a date and she is woefully under prepared” 

You roll your eyes as Emily explains but you don’t argue. She’s right.

Cat gets a bright look, “Ohhh my favorite kind of client. What kind of date are we talking? Are we hoping for some dessert after?” She asks wagging her eyebrows suggestively. You can’t help but laugh, finding yourself liking the woman already. 

“Harrison’s taking her out” Em interjects before you have a chance to say anything. Cats  eyes grow wide and she stares at you with an entirely different look, more assessing, as if sizing you up. You must pass whatever litmus test she’s run you through because her easy grin returns quickly as she takes your hand and leads you over to some racks. Emily proceeds to take a seat and watch the show, obviously having been through it a time or two before.

“Haz, eh?” She asks you as she begins pulling dresses from the rack. She looks from you to the garments before placing some back and draping others over her arm. “It’s about time the old boy had someone on his arm.”

“It’s nothing serious.” You defend and she laughs. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you peak at the message.

Haz: Don’t let Em get you in any trouble ;)

Haz: call me later 

You stifle a smile as Cat gives you a knowing look. You quickly shove your phone back into your pocket.

“Harrison hasn’t taken a girl out in ages. With everything he’s got on his plate right now, if he’s pursuing you than it is definitely something.” 

“Everything on his plate?”

Cat and Emily share a quick look and Cat shrugs.

“Haz keeps busy is all. Family business doesn’t run itself now does it?”

You watch Cat curiously as she moves about her shop. Occasionally you point to a piece and she dutifully picks each up and adds it to the pile. Once you’ve looped around the racks once she seems to be happy with her haul and she motions for you to go to the pair of small fitting rooms in the back. Emily follows the two of you back and the they take up spots on the opposite ends of a loveseat as you begin trying on different outfits. Em looks regal with her legs primly crossed at the knee while Cat sits with her knees pulled close and her arms looping around them.

It’s been so long since you’ve been with “the girls” and even longer since you played the grown up version of dress up. Each outfit earns a thumbs up or thumbs down from the pair.

After showing off a red satin shift dress that received mixed reviews you step back into the changing room. 

“So Y/N,” Emily begins, “how long were planning on staying over here?”

You slip out of the red dress and wiggle into a black halter dress that clings to your curves with a hemline that falls mid thigh. Taking a step out of the dressing room you do a little turn in the mirror to catch all the different angles you can see. 

“I’m not sure yet. I mean, my contract has another few months on it but i’m not opposed to staying on longer.”

Cat rises to her feet makes a motion to the dress. “May I?” she asks and you pick your arms up.

“Please do” you encourage as she folds the hem and adjusts the loop around your neck.

Cat speaks casually as she works, “So nothing you’re wanting to rush back stateside for?”

You laugh as they attempt to dig information from you. 

“Nope” you offer, “my stuff is in storage and, honestly, I don’t think I'm particularly missed.”

“Ouch girl…” Em mutters, “be gentle with yourself.” 

You shrug helplessly. You hadn’t spoken with your mother much since you’d arrived and your best friend was certainly preoccupied. Cat takes a step back motioning for you to take another look. You're careful to move, afraid to be poked by the pins she’s placed but you can’t help but absolutely blown away. The dress had looked pretty good before but with a few alterations it looked like it had been made for you. You can’t take your eyes off yourself. While you’d known in the right light and with the right makeup you could be considered attractive this made you feel like something else entirely. It made you feel elegant. It made you feel sexy.

“Oh my God…” you murmur, “This one. It’s got to be this one.” 

Emily and Cat nod in agreement.  “So when Haz falls desperately in love with you do you think you’ll hang about?” Emily asks. You turn and give her an odd look. 

“Is there something your trying to get at?” You ask, not answering her question. Emily shrugs as Cat excuses herself to look for a pair of shoes. 

“I watch out for my boys and Harrison…” Her eyes steady in on you. “Harrison is like a brother to me and I’d love to see him with someone that can accept him for everything he is.”

“Ive liked what I've seen so far. I get he’s probably complicated. The good ones are, right? But he makes me feel…” you shrug as Cat returns and your thankful for the distraction she provides as talk turns back to fashion and shoe choices. 

After deciding on a dress and shoes the three of you go through a few more outfits. Cat grabs a garment bag off a rack and hands it to Emily. The dark haired woman raises a brow.

“Is this…?” She trails off.

“The one I told you I was going to make you? Absolutely.” 

You duck into a dressing room as Emily moves into the other. You switch into your last outfit, fitted leather pants and a red cropped halter. Cat has an eye for fit and a style that is so much like your own. If you had deeper pockets.

“Is she going to Luna next weekend?” you hear Cat asks Emily quietly.

“I don’t know yet. I think it would be a good idea. Tom’s not keen on outsiders though so who knows at this point.”

“Isn’t Harrision’s big fight-” 

Whatever Cat had been about to ask is cut off as you push past the velvet draping. You watch as she grasps her hands together and smiles widely at you. Her eyes travel over your outfit and she turns to Em as she exits her dressing room.

“You May be ousted for a newer muse, love.”

Em chuckles and your mouth goes dry as she gives the designer a little spin of her own. She’s gorgeous and you feel like you pale in comparison but that isn’t what has you shocked silent. As she flips her dark hair over her shoulder you can't help but see the jagged, pink puckered scars that traverse her right shoulder. The jagged and torn lines dip as far as the eye can see. The cocktail dress doesn’t just show off the brutal marks but seems to accentuate them with its deeply dipping back. Em turns and her smile fades as she catches your expression. You stumble to recover.

“I didn’t mean to stare-“

Waving her hand dismissively, Emily gives you a sad smile. “I started owning these a long time ago. I hardly notice them most days.”

You bite at the inside of your cheeks and Cat finds something in some of her stitching very interesting. 

“Can I ask…?” Your curiosity is too much. Em nods and turns so you can get a better look.

“Feral dog” she says with a dark tone. Cat makes a sound that comes out as a coarse, bitter laugh.

“One way to put it.”

“The only way to put it.” Emily confirms seriously. 

The mood in the room has shifted and your not sure how to get back to where you were. Emily senses it too. She turns her back away from you and looks at you with bright searching eyes. You notice a much smaller scar running along her left collarbone. 

“if the ones on my back are my curse,” she says softly. “Than this one is my blessing.” Her fingers graze the pink crescents lovingly. The are dainty and refined in comparison to the mauled marks you’d just seen. 

Emily has a calmness and control over her. The solemn feeling ebbs as she looks at Cat, changing the course of conversation with such ease you don’t even think about what you’ve seen or more questions you may have.

“Would you like to come out to dinner with Y/N and I?”

It’s late when the town car brings you through the high iron gates of Emily’s home. The three of you are rosy cheeked and laughing as Cat makes a joke about Emily’s boyfriend, Tom.

“So how far up his arse does that stick really go?”

Emily snorts and water from the bottle she’s been drinking comes out her nose.

“He’s not that bad!” She defends but Cat looks across at her with such an incredulous look that Emily can’t help but giggle.

“Maybe he’s just a little serious but that’s his position.”

You’ve been happy to sit fairly quiet for most of the evening as the two women have gone back and forth joking about different people in their social circle. They’d stopped occasionally to explain how this person or that related and you’d nodded dutifully trying to trace all the moving parts and tying them together with the anecdotes you were hearing. As the night progressed and the wine had flowed it had been decided for you that you’d stay with Emily. 

As you take in the large brick home with lights shining brightly in its windows you’re a little awestruck. It’s gorgeous and bigger than any place anyone you’d ever known had lived in.

“Em, are you sure I’m good to stay? I don’t want to impose.”

“Y/N, this place has room for days.” She says. A slight slur is noticeable when she speaks. “Besides I’m not putting your drunk ass into a cab.”

The car parks and you grumble as you open your door. The other two women laugh as you stumble on your first steps toward the door. Maybe you were a little drunk.

“You’re telling me the pair of you aren’t feeling it?” You ask indignantly as Cat presses into your side. You loop an arm over her shoulder and lean into her for support.

“Darling, it's not that we’re not pissed it’s just” she leans into your ear, whispering dramatically, “we’re nowhere near as pissed as you are.”

You can’t help but laugh as Emily appears on your other side, miraculously able to walk in the pair pair of heels she’d been wearing all night.

You enter into a spacious kitchen. A marble island takes up a large footprint and you slip into a bar stool next to Cat. Emily grabs another bottle of wine from an under counter wine fridge and a trio of glasses. You’ve all lost control of your volume and it’s not long before a pair of heads peer around the corner, a head of thick unruly curls and a tall hulking man with close cropped hair.

“Tuwaine! Harry!” Cat crows when she catches the pair. “Have a drink with us!”

The men move in with weary smiles like they’ve been in this situation before and they don’t entirely trust the women you’ve stumbled in with. Tuwaine’s eyes skim over you before he’s giving Emily a look that even your drunk self can read.

“That’s Y/N.” She explains “Harrison’s new friend.” The way she emphasizes friend has him raising a brow.

“Emily…” he says warningly but she’s shoving a tumbler into his hands and smiling that same in control smile she displayed earlier. He grumbles something bringing the amber liquid and ice up to his lips.

You hear, “Tom” and “Not happy”.

Harry appears at your side with a drink of his own and a bottle of water that he forces into your hand.

“Drink up, lovey.” He encourages, “there’s no use trying to keep up with the lushes. You won’t survive.” 

Giggling you take the bottle and begin sipping at it, letting your wine glass go forgotten as he slides it away from your reach.

Emily talks shop with Harry as you work on your water. They talk about advertising and weekly specials at the cafe. Cat flirts wildly with Tuwaine who seems all to happy to have the little designers attention. You feel like part of something and it’s a feeling the grounds you in the moment.

At some point someone mentions turning a movie on and the group of you meander through a long hall and into an entertainment room. You sink onto the couch next to Harry and lean against his shoulder while someone ques up Avengers: End Game. Your eyes are starting to feel heavy when another pair of voices join your group.

#werewolf!haz #harrison osterfield #haz osterfield fic #haz osterfield #moonbeams and ridinghoods #harrison osterfield fic #detroitbydark

[scribeofmorpheus]

Mark of the Wolf Epilogue

Catch Up Here!

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader (Lastname: Markolf)

Words: 3k

Warnings: Language, sexual references and... hallucinations, or are they?

A/N: The end of a journey, but the start of a new one! To all those that stuck around till the end -I’m sorry for taking so long- and y’all are the best! Check the link at the end to read the blurb for the sequel.

Leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter! It helps ☺

~

You laid in Derek’s bed watching the first glimmers of daybreak scatter over his velvet sheets. His mouth was parted slightly as he took long, drawn out breaths in his sleep. You hugged your knees to your breast, taking in the peaceful silence.

With the last of the hunters lost to the winds, you were unsure of what going back to normal meant.

Were you just supposed to go back to your newly-moved-in apartment and unpack the last few boxes you left on the floor? Then what? Spend the rest of your days spaying cats and clipping outgrown nails? Somehow the prospect of returning to how things used to be felt a little underwhelming.

What about Derek? He was still a wanted man in four states. Still a criminal in the eyes of the law. Was it safe for him to stay? Would he stay?

As you pondered your future, Derek stirred from sleep, a groan emanating from his chest.

“Morning,” you whispered over your knees.

He smiled at you, “Morning.”

He sat up to lean against his headboard, chiselled chest in full view.

You blushed, remembering the kiss in the woods and how sexy his glistening muscles made him look.

He splayed his arms wide for you to crawl under, the red rash slowly forming on his forearm identical to Peter’s. Scratch marks present from when he was asleep, digging his nails into his irritated flesh.

You tucked yourself under his strong frame, trailing fingers over the snaking flesh. You shuddered. It didn’t feel right.

Derek kissed the top of your head, chasing your worries to the back of your mind.

“Where do we go from here?” you asked, keeping your eyes trained on the growing rash.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, stroking the bony trail of your neck. “But I know I don’t want to go back.”

You smiled, “Neither do I.”

Something writhed under his skin and you started from the contact it had with the pads of your fingers.

“What are we going to do about this?” you poked his arm.

He dismissed it nonchalantly, “As long as it doesn’t kill me, I don’t care.”

You hummed in thought.

Derek seemed more carefree, less burdened. You felt deprived of this side of him, wishing you had known he possessed such calmness underneath his brooding façade earlier.

“You’re still a wanted man you know,” you reminded him.

“And you’re a vet with a clinic in disrepair,” he retorted.

“So…” you looked up to meet his green eyes. “What do we do about that?”

Derek kissed your lips, twining his fingers with yours, “I’ve actually been having this reoccurring dream.”

“Oh yeah?” you arched a brow.

“Mmm-hmm. It’s about us actually.”

“Us?” you felt comfortable saying the words, it scared you how normal it felt on your tongue.

Derek noticed how casually you said it too, it made his smile grow, “Yeah, us. We’re always alone, just the two of us, with nothing but a map, a camping tent and two backpacks.”

“That sounds… a lot like my childhood actually.”

“That’s not the best part. Every morning we wake up somewhere new. And on the last day, we pitch our tent in front of this magnificent waterfall, surrounded by nothing but free open spaces and curious coyotes.”

“You had me till coyotes.”

A laugh rumbled from his chest, “They tend to steer clear of wolves. A hierarchy thing.”

“Ahh,” you said, drawing circles around his abdomen.

“How about it?” He asked, eyes peering into yours. He looked vulnerable.

“What? Leave Beacon Hills, disappear for a while to go on a hiking trip with a guy I just slept with?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, “Hey, I’m more than a piece of meat you know.”

“I know. Not many people would go to such lengths to help a total stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger to me. I’m beginning to doubt if you ever were.”

“God! It seems like years ago that I pulled that bullet from right here–” you poked the spot that once looked mangled and bloody from a bullet wound.

Derek jerked, finding your touch ticklish.

“Well?” he asked again.

What he was asking of you was to be someone you weren’t. Someone spontaneous and adventurous and not someone who was calculating and a meticulous planner. He was asking you to take a chance on whatever warm feeling was spreading through your body right as the golden glow of the sunrise bathed your naked bodies.

The rational part of your brain was telling you ‘No!’. Warning you not to be swept up in the moment like a hopeless romantic.

Be with him, but don’t put everything on hold for him, the rational voice said.

Oh, for once in your life don’t listen to her, follow your heart, be bold… give yourself a shot at being happy again. Lord knows you’ve earned it, the dying remnants of your fun-loving college girl years argued against the other voice.

You held his gaze for a long pause, trying to weigh the options. In the end, it was his unexpected kiss that decided things for you.

“What the hell!” you cast caution to the wind. “Yeah, let's go see some mountains together or some shit.”

“Yeah?” Derek was grinning now.

“Yeah!”

And with that, he rolled you onto your back and kissed you passionately.

On the bedside table, vibrating incessantly was Derek’s phone. Caller ID stating it was Stiles trying to get ahold of him for the sixth time in a row. Derek ignored the call and chucked his phone into his clothes hamper before he lowered himself between your thighs.

 ~Two Months Later

“Where to next?” you pulled out the map and placed it next to the lantern propped up on a foldable table.

Derek looked at the map then back at you, a cheeky smile on his face.

You knew that look. That was the look that told you he wanted to be doing something else besides plotting out points on the heavily marked map.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and bit his lip, “Why bother with ‘next’ when we can just enjoy the beautiful view right here.”

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the rolling hill ranges that spanned for miles and miles.

“It is a beautiful view,” you agreed.

He placed a kiss to your shoulder, “That’s not the view I was talking about.”

Heat flushed to your cheeks, “Ever the charmer.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m only charming for you,” he kissed the crook of your neck, mouth sucking on the sensitive flesh until you were certain it would leave love bites.

You moaned, but then forced yourself to not be swept up in his incendiary touches, “Ah-ah, Derek. Map. Next destination. Focus.”

You chastised him with a playful smack and he huffed, “Easy for you to say. Focusing is the last thing I’m capable of doing right now. It doesn’t help that you smell like the wild –cedar and freshwater. It’s intoxicating.” He breathed in the scent around your hair.

God, he was making it hard for you to focus as well.

You cleared your throat, “Well you’re just going to have to reign yourself in, Romeo.”

“You’re so persistent,” he whined dramatically. “Okay, you really want a destination.”

“Yes, please.”

“How about here—“ he circled Beacon Hills with his finger.

“Beacon Hills?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Deaton’s finished with the repairs. I’m a free man again. Maybe we should think about taking this thing we got going back to a more permanent setting.”

Your eyes widened, “Are you suggesting…?”

“I’m saying I want us to move in together,” he said it so boldly you almost wondered if he knew asking someone to move in with him wasn’t the same as asking them to share a closet space.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he revealed. “When I’m not thinking of all the things I want to do to you.” He playfully nipped your earlobe before stretching back into his relaxed pose.

Your voice was torn between panicked and husky, “Living together is a huge commitment Derek, it’s not—“

“I’m committed to you, almost devoutly so. It scares me sometimes,” he laughed awkwardly. “Besides, aren’t we practically sharing a living space right now?”

Your mouth hung open. He’s got you there.

He sighed longingly, “Waking up next to you, sharing meals with you, fighting over which way’s East or West or South or… you get the idea. I want more of that. In a house or apartment, or loft even, just as long as it has walls, a sturdy bed and you.”

You giggled, happiness spreading through you.

His face turned serious just then, his hand taking yours, “I want those things with you more than I’ve ever wanted them with someone else. I—“

Suddenly his phone rang and Derek sighed, annoyance taking over his features as he looked at the caller ID.

“It’s Stiles,” he told you. “I gotta take this. It’s probably about him closing my case. If it’s not… I’ll kill him.”

Derek shot you an apologetic look and then crawled out from under your shared tent. You went back to reading the names of all the places you’d yet to visit

Yellowstone, North Beach Campground, Crystal Cove, Derek wants us to move in together… Derek wants us to move in together! This is all happening too fast… Am I being paranoid? I mean… we are technically living together since we share a tent, but then again—

 Derek walked a few paces until he reached the crystal waters of the lake, with a lazy grunt he plopped down on top of the stony shore, pressing accept on his phone’s screen.

“Stiles, this had better have been important,” he grumbled, his frown baring down on his face for what felt like the first time in aeons.

“Wow, missed you too buddy, long time –how’s the weather over there? The mountains mountainy enough for ya?” Stiles retorted.

“I mean it, Stiles,” Derek warned.

“I was just calling to let you know you’re case has now been dead-filed. You’re a free man again.”

“I thought I was a free man weeks ago?”

“Yeah, but now its legally-filed-paperwork official with a stamp and a seal and everything. A public apology will be made by my department in a few days.”

“Okay then. Good to know. Now if you don’t mind I have something to get back to so…” Derek waited for Stiles to hang up but he didn’t. From the weird pause on his end of the line, Derek knew Stiles was fumbling to say something. “What is it, Stiles?”

“Have you told her yet?”

There was a pregnant pause, Derek looked at the odd, reddened symbol that moved under his skin on his forearm and then over to your happy, stress-free face under the tent.

“I’m going to. I just haven’t found the right time.”

“You can’t keep this a secret forever. Someone’s going to wonder why Peter had a mental breakdown and left for Kathmandu. What if that happens to you?”

“Peter is a drama queen. He’s fine.”

“But you aren’t. You know what that mark means.”

“I know.”

“And I won’t keep this from the others forever.”

“I know.”

“You’re one of them now.”

“I know!”

“Just… don’t carry this on your own. Secrets have never brought anything good to the pack. And yeah I get it, you know.” Stiles hung up.

Derek took a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you hadn’t heard his little outburst. He was relieved when he saw you fully immersed in the map laid out before you, a toothy grin lighting up your face.

“You should listen to your friend,” a raspy, unwelcome voice spoke. Derek was still getting used to the new voice in his head. “Secrets are dangerous.”

Derek turned to the source of the voice, seeing Alyster’s thin face and skinny form standing next to him. Dead and incorporeal. A supernatural hallucination reserved solely for him.

Derek snorted, “That’ll go easy over dinner. Oh, babe, you know that guy who was trying to murder you, murdered your boyfriend and almost killed everyone you've ever loved? Yeah, turns out he was right. Killing him didn’t mean he’d stay dead. Now he’s a voice in my head that I can talk to from time to time,” Derek sneered sarcastically before continuing on his rant: "I pretty much took his place. Don't worry though, I'm not alone in this. Peter's gone insane and secluded himself behind the doors of some spiritualist convent in Kathmandu. Would you like some bread?"

Alyster’s skin-crawling laugh trickled out making Derek’s neck prickle in discomfort.

“It does sound ridiculous when you put it that way,” a smirk stretched at Alyster’s mouth tightly. “But it could be worse. You could have Astrid inside your head instead.”

Derek ran a hand over his face and groaned, “Just… go burrow back into my subconscious and do… whatever it is dead men do when they’re trapped in someone else’s mind.”

“Wither,” Alyster said darkly. “We wither.”

A gust of wind blew in from the East, an odd sensation to it. Derek’s wolf instincts went rampant, he didn’t know what was making him so agitated. It was like a shrill, ultrasonic sonic sound had bored a hole into his head and lit his nose on fire. Derek tried to exhale the scent away in strong bursts, his hands placed to his ears to block out that painful noise. Nothing seemed to be working.

The rash on his arm turned solid, finally ending its repetitive cycle of writhing and wriggling. The itch had refrained. Then, after Derek was sure that he could practically hear the buzz of light’s frequency, everything shut off and his senses returned to normal. A stream of blood ran down from his nose and ears.

“What the fuck was that?”

Alyster’s face turned grave, “That was the First Coming.”

 ~Kathmandu 

The meditative instructor at the retreat sat in front of Peter with his legs crossed in the lotus position, a large statue of a praying Buddha was erected barely a stone’s throw away.

“Breathe in,” the teacher instructed the class. “And out.”

Peter repeated the actions, trying to silence the incessant ramblings of Astrid’s consciousness now bunking with his own.

“Du bör sluta slösa bort din tid,” Astrid said in Swedish.

I keep telling you, I don’t know what you’re saying! Peter shouted back in his head. And shut up, I’m trying to focus on my breathing! 

”And breathe in,” the teacher parroted. ”And now breathe out all your worries and stresses, feel them ebb away.”¨

”Oh, does my speaking Swedish annoy you?” Astrid remarked with bitterness. ”How insensitive of me. I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry. Would you like me to fetch you a towel for all that sweat? Maybe a glass of water with a slice of lemon? Oh! No, wait... I can’t do those things because you stabbed me in the heart with a stake!” Astrid patronised him, her voice so loud inside his head.

You deserved it!

Peter ground his teeth together in the hopes she’d be drowned out by the sound of molars filing down on one another.

”And now we’ll take in one deep breath and hold it,” the teacher said.

Peter held his breath.

Astrid’s pitch went flat, “All this breathing and more breathing seems to be working. I feel very relaxed here. Namaste.”

Peter saw her hallucinatory projection bow mockingly at the instructor's feet. Peter held back a laugh.

”Silence please,” the teacher chastised when he heard Peter’s breathy laugh.

Yeah, you heard him, silence wench! Peter mocked at Astrid.

Astrid rolled her eyes, “I was being silent. You’re the one who can’t internalise his laughs.”

Whose fault is that? It’s not like my brain isn’t crowded enough already.

”I warned you my kind doesn’t die, you chose to shove that stake into my heart anyway. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours,” she bit back.

”Keep holding,” the teacher said.

Maybe if you weren’t a homicidal bitch!

”Hold,” the teacher repeated.

 “Maybe if you weren’t a homicidal bastard!”

”And, release,” the teacher said serenely.

”Shut up!” Peter barked, startling the class. He scrunched his face and plastered on a charming smile, “Terribly sorry, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Astrid snickered with pride, “Yeah, tell them you were talking to a dead woman that lives in your head, go on, tell them!”

Peter stood from the cushion and bowed to the rest of the class, “I think I’ll be retiring to my quarters. Namaste.”

The entire class looked at him with wide eyes, all their voices quaking from shock and surprise, “N- Namaste.”

Peter rolled his eyes and walked away, We really need to set some ground rules.

“Don’t see why, I’m having a great time,” Astrid shrugged. “I’d rather be in your head, roaming around like some phantom than spend my eternity with the love of my life.”

Suddenly, a high pitched, nearly immobilising sound pierced through Peter’s skull like a hot poker. His eardrums vibrated so frantically he was certain they’d burst. An odd taste filled his mouth and he felt like he’d just swallowed a whole tub of wasabi.

“Gahhh!” he clenched down as he lost his footing and fell through a paper wall. “What is that?”

His claws started growing out of their own accord, eyeballs aching from internalised pressure. Then suddenly it stopped.

Peter picked himself up off the floor and looked down at all the blood that had soaked into his shirt from his nose alone. It was like a murder scene. One of his eyes went bloodshot.

Astrid’s eyes narrowed, her voice chillier than ice, “She has awoken.”

“Who?” Peter asked the ghostly woman, ignoring all the scared faces in the crowd clamouring around him.

“The First Coming.”

Out through the window, Peter could see a flock of birds swarming in a frenzied spiral, their cawing noises irritating his wolfish hearing.

“Well… fuck!” Peter spat the blood out of his mouth and stormed out of the retreat. “It was nice knowing you Buddha.” He threw a piece sigh up to the giant statue, his rash taking on the coherent form of an unmoving symbol.

 ~Below the Mother Three

Worms wiggled out of the earth, screaming inaudibly as they left the solace of the rotting tree. Black mould had webbed across the ancient tree’s trunk like a mossy blanket, bringing with it a foul stench of decay.

Below the surface horizon, root tendrils began to shrivel and rot, turning into puddles of fermenting tree sap. Deep down, at the centre of the trees dying rhizomes, was buried a sarcophagus. A symbol harkening the end of days was chiselled into the stone lid.

Under the airless, lightless, soundless seal of the ancient casket was a mummified body wrapped in black cloth. The inside of the sarcophagus shook, tremors from the earth forcing cracks onto the stone.

Softly, painfully, a single breath was taken and the earth would never be the same.

 This story continues in: Covet of the Wolf

 tags: @melissavercos @divisingstories @theflash-trash @mynamesalreadytaken @island-end @chipster-21 @helloscorpious  @marvelismyfantasy @anonymousfanfics-blog @homra-the-red-clan @derangedangel @phonegalhelp @bowtiesandwhiskers @soldierwinterthe @alina-barnes @sumlariss @luckythepizzadog4444 @tlytxia @drunklili @iamabeautifulperson18 @zenawa @squadkyoya @cassandraevans @moli1497 @wanderlust-travler @143amberrose @humbledarkness @rockyrocket15 @4llmywr1tings @smolbeanfive @500daysofbecky @smolbeanfive

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees 

#derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale imagine #tyler hoechlin #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #motw epilogue

[feferipeixes]

Innocence Is Not Knowing That You’re Innocent (4/5)

Belle knows her brother pretty well. He likes comic books, he cheats at board games, and he wants more than anything to be human again. So, when he wakes up one morning with no memory of the fact that he’s a demon, she figures there’s no reason to remind him just yet. He deserves some time to just enjoy being Dipper, and not have to be Alcor.

Unfortunately, she can’t hide Dipper from the demon forever.

Chapter 4: Night of the Living Dead (link to chapter 1) (2) (3)

Shout out to @toothpastecanyon​ for being a super helpful beta reader!

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

“Come on out, you look great!”

Dipper groaned. “This is humiliating! How again did you get me to agree to this?”

“You’re getting my ice cream for a week,” Belle answered gleefully. Was it a bribe? Sure was, but making deals with a demon so often had taught her that a good bribe can solve almost anything. It had also taught her how to craft a loophole, and since Dipper didn’t have his demon powers right now, he hadn’t noticed that if their dad bought popsicles for dessert that week instead of ice cream, she wouldn’t have to share any of it. “Now come out!”

Dipper made a noise that was clearly intended to convey just how displeased he was with the entire situation, but mostly sounded to Belle like an adorable, yowling cat. He shuffled out of the closet looking sullen. “Happy?”

“Yes!” Belle squealed and jumped around, the bangles on her arms jangling loudly as she did so. “That costume looks really good on you!”

He turned around, and flinched when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He was wearing a long, sky blue poncho with pictures of birds flying across. He had grass-green pants and shoes, and a plush headdress that looked like the sun. It covered most of his head, leaving only a very nonplussed Dipper face sticking out. “I look ridiculous.”

Belle clapped giddily. “Nonsense, you look great, and it works because we match!” Her poncho was black, and studded with white little LED lights that looked like twinkling stars. Her long skirt and shoes were also black, and her headdress was shaped like a crescent moon. “It’s great, because we’re so different, we’re like... day and night!”

“Why do you get to be night?” he humphed. “At least you’ll blend in when it’s dark out.”

“I get to be night because I’m dark and brooding, and you’re sunny and delightful!”

“Belle, that’s the opposite of -”

“Well, you’ll be bright and sunny when we go out! You’ll have to be -- it’s Halloween!”

Dipper facepalmed. “Aren’t we a bit old to go trick-or-treating?”

“Yeah, we are. And it saddens me greatly! But we won’t be going trick-or-treating. We’re going to be going…” (she imitated doing a drumroll) “to a haunted house!”

He gaped at her. “What?”

“Onika told me there’s this old apartment building her family owns that no one lives in anymore because it’s full of ghosts and stuff! That’ll be fun, right? Ghost hunting, looking for mysteries, and all that?”

“That does sound fun…” He seemed to think it over for a bit, and then nodded. “Alright, sure. I’m in. But I’m not going outside in this outfit unless you make it two weeks of ice cream.”

“Deal!” She raised her hand for a high five, but Dipper had already turned around and was walking out of the room.

Oh yeah. This was just normal bribery -- no demon magic involved.

---

Belle was pretty pleased with her plan. A haunted house was the perfect thing for Dipper on Halloween. His powers were locked up, so he wouldn’t get summoned away in the middle of their fun. He always loved mysteries and exploring when they were younger, and since he didn’t know he was a demon, he could fear for his life just like everyone else! Yes, she thought, this was the perfect thing for him to get to enjoy while his Alcor memories were gone.

As for her? She honestly wished she could be going trick-or-treating. It wasn’t really true that they were too old, because she knew Alistair was taking his younger brother trick-or-treating, and that’s still technically getting to go trick-or-treating because adults usually give out sympathy candy to the teenagers who have to chaperone little sugared-up kids around town at night! But she knew Dipper wouldn’t enjoy it correctly -- sure, he had a sweet tooth like no other ancient demon she’d ever heard of, but scaring strangers into giving him candy was something he didn’t need to be human to do.

Besides, he was starting to figure things out. She was going to have to tell him soon enough. Might as well make sure he had some extra special fun before she does.

“Are we almost there?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s just at the top of this hill.” She stuck her tongue out. “What, is Mr. Sunshine getting scared out here in the dark?”

“No!” he replied indignantly. “I’m just excited. Why again does Onika’s family own a haunted apartment block?”

“Oh! It’s a good story!” She pulled out her phone, turned on the flashlight, and held it under her chin. “Legends say that Onika’s family promised a group of construction workers that if they built a building for them, they’d get invited to fancy apartment dinner parties all the time. But when the building was finished and Onika’s family sent out the first invitations, the workers were left out! Then, a big piano hanging from a girder 15 stories up suddenly fell down and squished them! They swore to haunt the apartments and get their revenge on rich people forever!”

Dipper scoffed. “Come on, you just stole that from the legend of the haunted Northwest Mansion in Gravity Falls.”

“Who knows? It could be true!”

They came over the crest of the hill, and there it was: an old apartment building.

“...is this it?” Dipper asked, nonplussed. “Seems a little underwhelming.”

“Yeah! Come on, Onika gave me the keys.” She skipped up to the front door, and pulled out a jangly keyring. “I think some of these are to public pools, country clubs, celebrity houses… aha! Creepy apartment block key!” She unlocked the door, and the two of them were hit with a wave of stale air. Belle sniffed in enthusiastically, and then coughed. “You smell that, Brolock Holmes? That’s the smell of mystery!”

“More like the smell of mildew,” he responded, also coughing. Still, he edged past Belle and into the building. Smiling, she skipped after him.

“I think I found a light switch,” he said. There was a click, and the room lit up. The hallway looked positively from another era -- carpeted floors, wooden doors, a chandelier with incandescent light bulbs in it. There was a layer of dust over just about everything.

“Hallway seems pretty not-haunted,” he remarked after a minute. “You wanna take a look in some of these rooms?”

“Sure, but there’s no chance on earth that we’re splitting up! You’ve seen horror movies!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He went over to the nearest door, and activated the opening mechanism. It was unlocked, and swung open with a loud creak. “Belle, can I have your flashlight?”

She hugged her phone to her chest. “Use your own, goober!”

“Sheesh, fine.” He pulled out his phone, turned on the flashlight, and shined it into the room. Not much of note immediately jumped out at them -- a dusty sofa, dusty coffee table, dusty chairs, dusty TV. He signaled for Belle to follow him, and they tiptoed together into the room. Once inside, they both shined their lights around in a wider arc, trying to get a better look at the room.

“Huh,” Dipper said. “Kind of a letdo-”

There was a loud noise, and the door to the apartment slammed shut. The twins both yelped and jumped about a foot into the air.

“Dipper? What’s going on?” Belle asked, voice shaking.

“Dunno, but the door’s not opening. Lights aren’t turning on either. Let’s, uh… let’s take a look around.”

“Alright…”

He set off toward an old bookshelf, looking more excited than anything else. Belle settled for poking at the kitchen table. It had some weird old cables clamped to the underside of it, but nothing else so strange as to call haunted. Which was just as well -- at this point, she wasn’t sure whether she really wanted the apartment to be haunted or not.

And then she felt a tap on her shoulder, which she hoped against all hope was just Dipper pranking her, but she knew her brother was awful at pranks, and furthermore she could see out of the corner of her eye that he was on the other side of the room, looking at books on a shelf. She gulped, resigned herself to whatever fate would befall her, and turned around.

There was nothing there. She didn’t know whether that made things better or worse.

“You were a fool to come here.”

Belle’s heart sank. “Aren’t you having fun, bro-bro?”

He looked up from the dusty tome he was nose-deep in. “It’s alright. Kind of eerie, but I was hoping to see a ghost.”

“Oh. Why did you say I was a fool to come here, then?”

“What are you talking about?” He dropped the book and rushed over to her, his noodle-y arms flailing everywhere. “I didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a ghost? What exactly did they say?”

She opened her mouth, and then a voice that Belle could now tell definitely wasn’t Dipper’s hissed “You’ll pay for what you’ve done.”

“You heard that, right?” she asked.

He nodded, and pulled his notebook out of his costume. Of course he’d brought his notebook -- he’d spent a lot of time researching ghosts and would want to have that research on him in a potentially haunted situation. “Let me see what we’re dealing with here. There’s the disembodied voice saying foreboding stuff -- that puts us at at least Category 3. Has anything else happened?”

“I felt a tap on my shoulder, but when I turned around, there was nothing there.”

He started to chew on the end of his pen. “Hmm, partial corporeality. Doesn’t really tell us much.”

“D-do you think it’s a ghost?”

“Definitely,” he replied, without a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I wonder if it’ll do anything else.”

“Do you want me to put on a show for you? Is that what you want?” came a voice from behind them.

Dipper and Belle swiveled around instantly, and found themselves face-to-face with an old man, which ordinarily wouldn’t have been too frightening, because it was Halloween and he might’ve given them candy, but this old man was pale white, glowing, and almost definitely a -

“GHOST!” they both screamed, and the old man started to cackle. They turned around and raced for the door, but the ghost got in their way.

“I’ve waited too long for you to show up! You’re not getting away that easy!”

The twins skidded on their heels and changed course, heading for the window.

“Nope! That won’t work, Sterlings! You’re mine now, and I’m never going to let you go!”

Belle’s heart was racing at the speed of light, and she felt like she was going to be sick. Beside her, Dipper was vibrating, and she couldn’t tell if it was from fear or excitement. He opened his mouth and the voice that came out was high-pitched and squeaky. “Wh-what did we do? Why have you been waiting for us?”

The ghost cackled again. “You don’t even know what you’ve done! That’s so rich. Here, why don’t I give you a reminder?” He started to float toward them, and Belle’s mind short-circuited.

“Simia arcu impetum ignis!” she cried, thrusting her palm forward.

“No, Belle -” Dipper started to yell, but it was too late -- a pulsating fireball shot from her hand and exploded halfway between Dipper and the ghost. Searing pain stretched over Belle’s arms, and the room was filled with screaming. Then, everything went black.

---

Belle’s eyes sprang open. It took her a moment to remember where she was and what was going on, and then she scrambled to her feet.

“Dipper?” she asked cautiously, although it came out as much more of a yell. She couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in her ears, though she wasn’t sure whether that was because he wasn’t moving or because of the explosion that had just happened. She tried to look around, but the room was too thick with smoke. She pulled out her phone, which was thankfully still in her back pocket, to see if the flashlight would help her see, and then she heard it.

A moan, low and warbling, coming from somewhere near her feet. She yelped and jumped up, readying herself to launch another fireball if she needed to. “Whoever’s there, show yourself!”

“Belle…” came Dipper’s voice.

Belle shined her phone toward the ground, and waved away some of the smoke. Dipper was lying on his back, face contorted in pain. “Dipper!” she yelled, kneeling down next to him. He didn’t look good, but she couldn’t immediately see any wounds so she figured he was probably at least okay for now. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Belle… Ugh, you’ve gotta watch out next time. That… that spell was right next to my head, owww…”

His words were a little slurred, and she panicked for a moment that he was more hurt than he seemed. His body falling apart would be the absolute worst way for him to remember that he’s really a demon.

“What hurts, what can I do to help?”

“It’ll be fine, it’s just a headache,” he said, words interspersed with winces as he attempted to lift himself to his feet. “You know I’m sensitive to magic.”

She rushed to help him while mentally yelling at herself because actually she had forgotten that he was sensitive to magic because it had been a while since it had been relevant.

“I think we’re in the basement,” he said once he was steady on his feet.

“Let’s get out of here. This was a disaster.”

“No, this was awesome!” He bounced in place despite his obvious pain. “That was a real ghost! I can’t believe he has a vendetta against us -- we should find out what’s going on!”

“Are you serious? He was threatening to hurt us! We should go home!”

He looked at her up and down, and then at their surroundings. “Okay. Maybe a little recon would be good.” He didn’t sound particularly scared, but his hand mysteriously reached down to hold hers.

They made their way over fallen wooden beams and around broken furniture to a rickety staircase, which led directly outdoors. Belle let out a sigh of relief. They were out of there. They were going to go home, and she was going to call Onika and babble about the ghost that tried to kill them, and then Dipper would get his pinboard out and start drawing lines and conspiracies everywhere, and everything would be okay.

Then a familiar voice broke into her thoughts. “You stupid kids! Where do you think you’re going?”

They both swiveled around. The ghost was standing in a large hole in the side of the building -- apparently Belle’s fireball had a greater range than she thought. However, the ghost seemed a bit… different. He wasn’t glowing anymore, and was coughing through the still-settling dust, which seemed like a weird thing for a ghost to have to do.

Dipper’s eyes boggled. “You’re taking human form! How is that possible? Not even the strongest ghosts can do that without outside help! Are you working with a demon?” The last word felt like a kick to the stomach to Belle, but she clenched her teeth and said nothing.

“I’m not a real ghost, idiot!” The man broke into another coughing fit, and stepped out of the building. In the moonlight, Belle could see a sickly substance dripping off of him. “Haven’t you ever been to an arranged haunting before? You weren’t in any danger, you didn’t have to destroy the apartment!”

Belle’s jaw dropped. “An arranged haunting? Y-you’re not a real ghost?”

“No! This is just stage ectoplasm, and the door and furniture were all hooked up to a remote control! Did you even read the contract when you hired me?”

“Belle?” Dipper hissed. “What is he talking about? Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear I have no idea what he’s talking about! It… it must’ve been Onika! She’s the one who told me this place was haunted!”

Dipper facepalmed. “Stars above, why?” He took a deep breath, and turned to the not-ghost. “Sir? We’re sorry for uhh blowing up your apartment! We weren’t told that this was an arranged haunting, and also we’re only 14 so please don’t sue us!”

“Are you serious? You’re going to pay for what you did to me!”

“Okay. Plan B. Run for it!” Dipper hollered. Belle didn’t need telling twice -- they both started sprinting toward the hill.

“Stop, you hooligans!” The old man ran after them, surprisingly quickly for someone that old.

Belle glanced behind them. “He’s going to catch us!”

“No!” Dipper replied. “We can do this!”

“I can’t run that fast -- my costume is too long!”

“Gotcha!” came the man’s voice. He grabbed Belle’s wrist in a weird, twisting motion, and she shrieked in pain. She almost fell over, but the man held her upright.

Dipper skidded to a halt up ahead. “Belle!”

“Why’d you do that, you big meanie, that really hurt!” she gibbered at the old man.

He glared down at her. Standing directly beneath a streetlight, and still dripping with stage ectoplasm, he lit up with an ominous aura. “That’s what criminals like you get for destroying my business!”

“Let go of her, you… you monster!” Dipper yelled. Belle could barely see him in the dark, but something was making his eyes glow. She really hoped it wasn’t what she thought it was.

“Monster? Watch your tongue, young man! It’s you who’s the monster here! You’ve got no respect! I’ve seen your type before -- one minute you’re vandalizing private property, next you’re out there spilling blood and running from the law! You’re coming with me down to the police station. Some time in a holding cell will do you good -- knock some sense into you so you can be a decent human being!”

Belle gaped at the man’s ridiculous spiel. “Please stop, we’re sorry, please just let us go!”

“You should’ve thought of that earlier! You’re coming with me, princess!”

He jerked her forward by the wrist, and the pain made her vision go blurry.

“Stop right there!!” Dipper yelled, and his wobbling voice reverberated through the area. “Let her go now… or else!”

“You’re nothing but a miserable hoodlum, kid, and you’ve got some nerve threatening me after what you did!”

Belle managed to focus her eyes, and peered over toward her brother. He was definitely glowing at this point -- light flooding from his sun-shaped headdress, though whether he was aware of this she didn’t know. He pointed a finger at them, and Belle fell to the ground, released from the man’s grip. She scrambled away from him -- less because she was worried about what the man would do, and more because she was worried about what Dipper was about to do.

“Dipper, I’m okay -” she started.

“Why, you little gremlin! I’ll get you!”

“T͎̹͓̝͈̬̟͔̅͂͑ͩ̑͜h͎͕͎̮͍͙͍͔̎͊͑́̕͟ǎ͖̄̋ͧ̅ͬ̄ţ̛̼̤̖̙͎͖̦̬̽̆̃́̑ͅ'̶̢̨͚͚̮̐͊̾͊ͪͦ̃s͕͚̮̫̺ͪ̉̃͝ ̢ͭ̂̈̅͢͏͇̭̻͇̬̦Ė̦͓̥̹̠͎̈͊̇͗̍̕͟͞ͅN̶̳̮̜̫̭̣̝̣ͭ͌̉̈̃ͫ͌̚͞O̬͖͙̝͕̦̟͍̅̾̌͢U̷̞̰͕̞̗ͩͬ͑͊̄ͪ̈́͘͘G̛̫̞̱̍Ĥ͖͔̥͇̠̬͇̾ͩ!̛̗̥͆̆̋͐ͩ͊̽” Dipper screeched.

For a moment, the world seemed still but for the sound of Dipper’s voice echoing through the air. Belle heard a creak behind her, and rolled over to see the man almost over her. Then she heard the creak again, and looked up just in time to see the streetlight above them swing, once... twice… and then snap.

Belle screamed. The man paused, his expression twisting from anger to confusion, and he looked up to see what had frightened her. He barely had time to jump out of the way before the streetlight hit the ground and exploded, right where he’d been standing not a moment ago.

There was a blinding light and a wave of heat that seared Belle’s skin. She braced herself and squeezed her eyes shut in pain, but she couldn’t block out the image burned into her retinas. Through the ringing in her ears, she could dimly hear the man swear and stumble back, but she could barely concentrate on that, not with her heart beating so fast and her senses completely overloaded.

What felt like minutes passed as the heat of the fire and the ringing in her ears gradually lessened. When she opened her eyes, the man was a good twenty feet away. His arm was raised to point at her -- no, at someone behind her -- and he had a look of pure terror on his face.

He saw her move and jumped back. “Call off your demon!” he yelled. “I’ll leave you alone! Please just stop!” Then he turned around and ran away as fast as he could.

Belle’s heart sank. She didn’t want to know what was going on behind her, but she knew she’d have to get up eventually. She rolled onto her stomach, and finally dared to peer into the night.

Dipper was lying on the ground up ahead -- the glow was gone but she could see him easily because of his costume. She struggled to her feet and wobbled her way over. His eyes were closed, but he was still breathing. Whatever happened -- whatever he did must’ve taken a lot out of him. She planted her butt on the ground and buried her face in her hands. This wasn’t meant to happen -- it was just supposed to be a fun treat that Dipper would enjoy in a human capacity. And now…

There was a choking noise, and she picked her head up. Dipper, eyes still closed, spluttered for a bit, and then went back to slow, steady breathing. He looked so peaceful -- she tried to imagine he was just resting on the grass after a long day. He looked so harmless, too -- just a regular human boy wearing a silly costume and claws -

She felt something inside of her snap. Claws. Stupid claws! What was she doing wrong? Why did something have to blow up in her face at every turn? She balled her hands into fists and punched the ground, trying to hold back the tears. Why couldn’t her dumb brother stop being a demon for a single second and just be happy?!

She took a deep breath, in and out, and unclenched her fists. She reached a hand toward his, but before she could make contact, the air twisted weirdly, and then his nails matched hers. Dull and human.

Something hitched in Belle’s throat. She laid back on the grass, and let the tears fall.

(AO3 link)

#gravity falls #transcendence au #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #belle sterling #dipper sterling #rrr #fic #long post #getting close to the end! ^_^ #my stuff

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 28: rock, paper, scissors, shoot

(okay, I finally gave up on this impossibly long chapter that was taking me forever to complete and split it into two chapters so I’d have something to show for myself after such a long break. so here’s the first part. my apologies if this approach makes for an underwhelming update. here goes... something.)

Monday, November 12th, 1990

That wasn’t so bad. I mean, we were all pretty loose, so there were plenty of fuck-ups, which would ordinarily make me crazy, but perfection wasn’t the point of this show. That was never the point. Andy wouldn’t have given a shit about it, anyway. He was always able to roll with absolutely anything that happened and pull it off as though he’d planned it the whole time. Even though we just stepped off the stage, I’ve already forgotten the finer details of what we played or how we sounded. It already feels like a dream that’s slipping away the moment you wake up and try to pin down what was so memorable about it. All I’m hanging onto is the feeling that it was fucking fun, that the people here understood why we did it. I think he would have loved it. 

And, bonus: at least I remembered to wear pants this time. Nothing worse than playing a show and looking down at your guitar halfway through to realize you forgot to put on pants and the whole room’s just staring at your underwear. Brutal. 

Pushing my way further and further out from the stage isn't helping me regain my sense of clarity. People keep clapping me on the back, talking to me as I move by them, but I don’t recognize anyone, and the crush of people just gets denser, hotter, less familiar. More striking than anyone’s features is the glare from the disco ball, which keeps fucking up my equilibrium and making it that much harder to focus. Everyone’s shouting, god, why is it so fucking loud in here? and it feels like someone’s calling me, but I can’t figure out who, or from where. Everyone’s voice kinda sounds like Charlie Brown’s parents… distorted, underwater… except for that nagging feeling that someone’s calling my name, clear as a bell, and I can’t figure out who… 

Until a hand, smaller, with fingers that somehow manage to feel chilly despite the stifling heat in this place, slips into mine, lacing our fingers tightly before pulling my arm nearly out of its socket, and I break into a smile. None of the faceless people around me indicate that the hand is theirs, but that’s okay, I know exactly whose it is as it makes every effort to pull me off my feet unless I finally start moving and follow it. That’s fair. You got me. We’ve stalled long enough. “Sorry, excuse me, sorry,” I offer again and again as I stumble through the herd, shouldering past strangers, laughing in delirium, squinting ahead to try to get a glimpse of her as she tows me in her wake, but I can’t see shit, so it’s a wasted effort, at least until we get a little farther out from the center of the crowd. Where are we even going? Ah, fuck it, just let it happen. I’ve got a good feeling about it.

Sure enough, the sea of people thins out just enough that I can see my own hand, holding tightly to the one directing me on a circuitous path all throughout the room, and I let my gaze follow up along the arm it’s attached to: the arm wearing a much-too-big green sweater with the cuffs rolled up, the long red hair swaying to the quick rhythm of her gait, occasionally allowing the smallest glint of a tiny, brass, star-shaped earring if she turns her head just slightly, so fleeting that there’s no way I’d know what shape it was unless I already knew it was there, but of course I do. My laughter gets louder, and she doesn’t turn around, but her voice floats over her shoulder and into my ears with perfect clarity, cutting through any other noise even though it’s barely above a whisper. 

“Shut up, Stone, let’s get out of here.” 

“This isn’t the way outside…” 

“Did I say it was?” 

She’s dragged me back toward the stage, or behind it, and we’re squeezing behind an amp and a partial curtain into the world’s tiniest alcove. I didn’t know this was even here… how did she even know this was here? How does she always know? It’s so dark behind the curtain that I can’t even see her anymore, but I don’t need to, not once her arms are wound around my neck and her lips are on mine. The outcome is inexorable. I’m not going to put up a fight. I’ve got her skirt tugged up to her hips… it’s always the same skirt, every time, and thank god for that… and she’s just begun to unbuckle my belt when deafening sirens assault my ears and break my concentration. What the fuck? Who called the cops? Wait a minute… this is the fucking Off Ramp, not some baby teenage all-ages show, a raid doesn’t even make any sense, unless… 

...it’s my alarm clock. Fuck. 

That’s the third time in a week I’ve had this exact same dream. I close my eyes and sink back into the pillow, trying to hang onto the fading vividness of it, while at the same time feeling like an absolute moron for savoring this ridiculous fantasy my subconscious is so fond of. We’re in such a weird place right now, me and Cora. Who knows what the hell's gonna happen at the show tomorrow night, but definitely not that. No way. I mean, not that I’d protest if it did, but I’m pretty sure she’s too busy pretending I don’t exist to have time to drag me into a darkened corner and have her way with me.

Jesus, we’ve really made a mess of this whole thing. I don’t think she said a single word to me last night. I kept trying to get her attention, but she acted like I wasn’t even there! I'd even planned to try to ditch everyone else at the end of the night so I could get her alone for thirty seconds, but after receiving her silent treatment, I chickened out. I'm not exactly proud of myself, but what would I have even said? That I’m sorry I’ve made everything so awkward lately, that I was hoping to slow things down between us just a little bit but not All The Way Down, that I really want to talk to her, that there’s no rush, that she just needs to tell me when she’s ready and I’ll be here? 

...wait, actually, that’s probably a pretty good idea… 

Enough of this shit. I pick up the phone and punch in her number, but the sound of her answering machine after the fourth ring takes the wind out of my sails. Still, I’ve got to say something, the tape’s already picked up… 

***

“Hey, Eddie!” 

“Huh? Oh, hey.” I look up from the hallway carpet pattern to acknowledge the person I almost ran into: a sweaty, panting Cora, obviously just back from a run and waiting for me to get out of the way of her door. “Sorry,” I offer as I edge over to the other side of the hallway and try to keep going. Of all the people to run into, the person I always accidentally say too much around is the worst case scenario right now. I can’t catch a fucking break.

“You’ve got the worst timing, you know that?” she grins as she fumbles for her door key. 

“What do you --” 

“Not that it’s a bad thing! It’s kind of comforting at this point. I just feel like I always run into you at the worst possible times, like, some kind of terrible shit’s just happened in my personal life, or I look like I’ve been dragged by a city bus for sixteen blocks,” she waves lazily at her appearance with her free hand, glancing over with that characteristic Cheshire Cat look still plastered on her face. “Don’t know if I’ve ever actually told you that, but you have the worst timing in the world. It’s like you have some kind of ‘not right now’ sensor.” 

“I can fucking relate,” I mutter bitterly, sidestepping past her. 

“Hey! Get back here!” 

Her shout sets my teeth on edge. I should just keep walking. I should just keep walking. I should just get in my fucking truck and start driving. But something makes me stop, turn, and stare at her shoes. 

“Look, Cora, it’s just not a good time, alright?” 

“You could have just said that.” 

“I’m pretty sure I just did.” 

“Well you don’t have to bite my head off about it, I’m not trying to keep you against your will! And not that it matters now, but I actually meant it as a compliment.” 

“Yeah, you’ve got a funny way of paying people compliments.” 

“Don’t mind me, I’m still punishing you for calling me diplomatic.”

“Won’t make that mistake again.” 

She heaves a deep sigh, and I watch her sneakers shuffle as her posture shifts. “I meant it, Eddie, it’s always good to see you. Even when it’s not. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to start a fight, it just came out wrong.” 

“Yeah… okay. Look, I should probably be going…” 

“What’s going on, bud, you okay?” 

When I finally force myself to look up at her face, it’s creased with something more like concern than the hostility I’d expected, and I feel my shoulders drop from my ears. I hadn’t even realized how tightly I’d been holding them there. I let my hands flex, aware now that they’d been balled up into fists. What an idiot. Of all the people I’d like to have a shouting match with right now, Cora’s pretty far down the list.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just… tired. You’re the same way, you know? You’re always running into me in the wrong place at the wrong time too.” I try for a smile, but it must be a pretty pitiful attempt, because it makes her crack up into that slightly husky laugh of hers.

“Terrible timing is our superpower, I guess.” 

“Guess so,” I concede, except to me, it’s not really all that terrible. The thing about this woman is that she always turns the wrong place at the wrong time into someplace that’s worth inhabiting. She always manages to pick me up and dust me off and make me feel like everything’s going to be okay. I have no idea how she does that, but I’m not about to try to admit it to her right now. 

“So you’re fleeing town, I take it?” 

“What?” 

One eyebrow shoots up. “Your bag?” 

“Oh. Uh, no, I'm driving back to San Diego tonight. To get the rest of my stuff." I wave my little duffel bag forward like a white flag, a plea for forgiveness after having been such a grouchy bastard.

"Didn't you already do that?" 

“Well, I did one trip, yeah, but not everything fit in my truck the first time, so my buddy’s been holding onto some of it for me. And… uh, Beth called him this weekend, she found some of my stuff mixed in with hers, you know, records and some other things I actually want back, so I kinda feel like I should…" 

"Oh." 

"Yeah."

“Is she gonna meet you to give it back, or...?”

“No, that’s the kicker, she gave it all to him already, said there wasn’t any point in us seeing each other.” 

“Fuck. That’s kind of harsh.” 

“You’re telling me.”

“And will this be another pharmacologically enhanced journey?” She mimes hand tremors. 

“Nah, I’ll be good.” 

“‘Good’ being defined as someone who pulls over onto the side of the road to take a nap like a normal human being, right? So I don’t have to delve into the dark arts and resurrect you from the dead just to kill you for being a fucking impulsive idiot, right?” The tremors start creeping toward my throat menacingly, and I can’t help laughing as I try to bat them away.  

“On my idiot honor.” 

“K. Good to know I still terrify you,” she nods approvingly as she drops her hands. 

She does terrify me. Yet another thing I can’t admit. You’d have to be a much more committed idiot than me not to recognize Stone’s feelings for her, and I’m not about to let this little fascination of mine make waves with my new bandmate. It’s just a phase. A phase with the worst timing in the world.

“But hey, this means you’ll have to fill me in on every detail of the show tomorrow night,” I plead. 

“Uh huh.” Cora starts fidgeting with her keys again. 

“You’re going, aren’t you?” 

“Uh, I haven’t decided. I have a lot of work to do this week, and extra shifts at Cyclops to make up for last week, and…” 

“...and I’m pretty sure both Chris and Stone will never forgive you if you don’t go, and neither will I, since I need the full report, so just accept your fate already.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps defiantly, but her face is pure mischief again as she opens her door and looks up. “Want me to earn some bad karma in exchange for Beth’s while you’re gone? I could put her number inside the mens’ bathroom door at the Off Ramp? You know, ‘for a good time, call...’”

My jaw drops, but I can’t stop myself from laughing. “Don’t! That’s diabolical!”

“Or maybe I could interest you in a donation to the Seattle Zoo in her honor?” 

“A charitable contribution? Not that I’m arguing, but how exactly is that karmic justice?” 

“They might be willing to name their most disgusting sea slug after her? Come to think of it, I don’t know the going rate for christening a sea slug, but it can’t be that expensive, right?” 

“Ha, you sound like you’ve given this revenge concept a fair amount of thought…” 

“Oh, never mind, you’re probably one of those boring decent human being types who takes the best revenge by falling in love again and being all happy and living some kind of long, fulfilling life, huh?” 

I study my own shoes this time, trying not to smile too crazily. “One can only hope.” 

“Drive safe, bud. I’ll miss you at the show.” 

One last Cheshire Cat grin is visible along her profile before she disappears into her apartment. With a big sigh, I continue my trajectory down the stairs and back into the mess of my old life. At least now I’ve got some more uplifting thoughts to mull over on my long drive. 

***

Only after a horrifically wasteful long, hot shower do I notice the light on my answering machine. Hmph. I wonder how many messages have racked up since whenever the last time was that I checked it. I haven't been home a lot lately, thanks to playing catch-up everywhere else -- the lab, the cafe, my friendships… at least, those friendships that seem to miss me… at any rate, it’s probably good for me to be away from this apartment as much as I can. It feels so alien now. Sterile. It probably mostly feels that way because I’ve been cleaning it obsessively whenever I have any downtime, but it’s hard to ignore how silent living alone is. I’ve never had to do that before. I used to think I’d be really good at living alone, I mean, Alex was hardly ever around when he did live here, so what difference does it make now that he’s moved out? Logically, it shouldn’t matter at all, but the bewildering vastness of a double bed that’s officially single-occupancy, the sink that stays clean after I do the dishes, the gap-toothed voids on the shelves where his things used to be, all team up to make the absence unmistakable. It’s too quiet and too clean here without him. Not that having him around would make my life any better. I don’t really miss him, but there’s this weird Alex-shaped hole in my life now. 

It feels forbidden to push play on the answering machine, like I’m making too much noise in church, but I have a sudden and violent need to fill this place with something different.  

A sharp, throat-clearing cough is the first sound that greets my ears. Recognizing instantly who the cough came from, I freeze up and start to chew my nails. 

"Hey, Cora, uh, sorry, guess you already left… I only tried calling this early because I figured you'd still be at home. Uh…" 

As Stone fumbles his words, I feel an intense desire to scoop each one up and hold onto them, turn them over in my hands, inspect them, stash them in my pockets for safekeeping. I really miss the sound of his stupid voice. 

"I was… I was actually hoping to talk to you last night, but y'know, with everyone around, I didn't want to…"

He trails off as though his meaning is obvious, but I want to reach through the phone and rattle him by his bony shoulders. WHAT? You didn't want to what? What couldn’t you say with everyone around? Why couldn’t you just shake them off and come back? Why can't you just say it now? Spit it out, Stoner! 

"Anyway, I just wanted to call and make sure you were coming to the show tomorrow. It's just… it's not a big deal or anything, it's just kind of a big deal to me that you're there, you know?" 

Oh. I mean, obviously, that was all it was. Just calling around to make sure people show up tomorrow night. I'm sure he and the guys have all been making the rounds. I shouldn't have expected anything different, honestly. I bet he called every single person he knows. 

But is it a big deal to him that every single person he knows is there? Or is it just a big deal that I’m there? 

God, I need to get over myself, why would it matter to him if I’m there? That’s not the reason I should go to the show. I should go to support him. To support all of them. My friends. That’s what tomorrow’s about. It’s not about… whatever this is… or was, or… what is it now, anyway? I wish I could just talk to him about it, I wish… 

I run out of time to angst, because his perfunctory message wraps up and I’m just contemplating saving this tape so I can replay it over and over to continue my obsessive analysis when the next message starts. A dry voice, with dry information. It’s the women’s health clinic I went to last week. My test results came back all clear, and they’re just calling to double-check the address of the pharmacy where I want my birth control prescription renewed. This set of sentences layers over top of the fresh memory of Stone’s voice in a way that makes my stomach fill with butterflies. Juvenile, maybe, but not unwelcome. But the next sound on the tape dissolves the butterflies in a churn of acid. 

“Hey, C….” Alex’s voice drapes itself over the tape in his usual bored, lazy tone. He’s overdoing it. It makes me wince. “How’s things?”

He waits, like he’s expecting an answer, and the silence in the apartment feels even more uncomfortable now that it’s been broken by his voice again. “I was just calling to give you my new number, if you want it, it’s --” 

I don’t. I don’t! Why the hell would I want your new number? 

“It’s, uh, well, it’s the number at Cindy’s place, I… I’m living here now, we, uh... just, if you need to find me for any reason.” 

I won’t. There’s no reason, ever, not ever. Get out of here, get out, stop talking, get out of my apartment…

“Uh, I think I saw you at the grocery store the other day. You looked… you looked really good. At least I’m pretty sure it was you. Heh, it’s hard to miss all that beautiful red hair. I didn’t want to come up and say hi, I figured I’d just be bothering you, but I just wanted you to know… you looked great. Seeya round, C.” 

The last message ends. I look down at the small cassette in my hands, already ejected from the machine with its ribbon unspooled and crushed in my fist, wondering dimly how it got there so fast. It’s not important now. There’s something else I need to take care of. My numb fingers deposit the tape in the trash, grab the kitchen scissors, and let down my soaking wet hair on the way to the bathroom. 

***

Tuesday, November 13th, 1990

“What’s on your mind?” 

I glance over at Jeff as we walk back to our building from the court, trying not to beam too openly as he goofs off with the ball and showcases a Globetrotters spin on his index finger. I’m not sure what the statute of limitations is for harboring a rampant schoolgirl crush on your own boyfriend, but it hasn’t expired yet. He always thinks these games of one-on-one basketball are his idea and that I’m just humoring him by playing along. But the truth is that I’ll gladly soak up any opportunity to marvel at the spectacle of him showing off. I’m dating an athlete? A tall, gorgeous, kind, sensitive, artistic athlete? What parallel universe am I in? Guys like Jeff are never interested in me. It still doesn’t feel real.

“I still can’t believe you let me win.” 

“I still can’t believe you don’t believe me. I got my ass handed to me back there! And I’m not talking about the groping,” he adds as my hand pats around to make sure his ass is still in place. 

“You’re a liar, Ament. I love you for it, but you’re a damn dirty liar.” 

“Am not. You’re just a way better ball-handler than I’ll ever be.” 

“I was talking about the basketball game.” 

“So was I… mostly.” 

“God, you have a one-track mind.” 

“At least you always know what’s on it. So?”

Jeff tucks the basketball under one arm and snakes the other arm around my waist. I always have to stretch out my stride to keep up with him when we walk this way, but it’s worth it to be able to lean into his solid, reassuring frame. Even if we’re both in bad need of a shower before his show tonight. Not that I’m complaining about that being next on our agenda.

“So what?” 

“So, moving in together. Have you given it any more thought or not?” 

Damn it. I knew he was going to bring it up again eventually, I mean, in fairness, I’ve left him no choice. I’ve acted for a week like he never said anything, and he’s been a gentleman not to hassle me about it. I was just kinda hoping he could keep being gentlemanly and stolid about it forever and save me the trouble of ever making up my mind. 

“Of course I have.” 

“And? What do you think?”

“I think…I need more time to think about it.” 

He deflates against my shoulder. “What’s to think about? You love me, right?” 

“Of course.” 

“We spend all our time together.” 

“As much as humanly possible.” I snuggle him tighter, hoping to squeeze more confidence into him. 

“This is the best relationship I’ve ever been in, I don’t plan on it ever ending.” 

“Well that’s good, because you’re definitely stuck with me.” 

“So? Moving in’s the next logical step.” 

“But just because something’s the next logical step, doesn’t mean you have to take it right away, right?” 

“...no…” 

“I mean, why mess with a good thing? What if we move in together and it screws the whole dynamic up, and we suddenly realize we hate each other?” 

Jeff stops in his tracks. “Do you think that’s likely?” 

“No! No, I’m not saying that’ll happen, just… everything’s so good right now, why do we need to change it?” I tug on his tree-like midsection to get him to start walking again, and he obliges. 

“Because what if the change is even better? Isn’t it a much more likely scenario that we’ll be really good at this whole living together thing?” 

“Sure.” 

“So why not just do it?” he huffs, sounding increasingly frustrated as we turn the last street corner and our building looms into view, as if it’s eavesdropping on our conversation. 

“I… just… I don’t know, if it isn’t broken…” 

“But we hardly ever spend time separately in our own apartments when we’re both home.” 

“No, but it’s kinda nice that we have the option…” 

“Is paying rent twice really worth the option? Is it that important to you to be able to get away from me?” 

“Hey! Don’t do that.” I’m the one who stops dead this time, dropping my arm from his waist. “It’s not about wanting to get away from you, I just… I like having the option to keep my own space, to change my mind if we need to blow off steam, or --” 

“God, Lucy, you’re so…”

“So what??” 

“So… stubborn! It’s the exact same with work! You hate your job, you know you want to do something else, you even know what you want that something else to be, you have a career path all picked out, so why don’t you fuckin’ go after it?” 

“Uhhh, because it’s a lot of additional classes and loans? And I’ve only been out of school a couple years and I’m enjoying not being a student for the first time ever? And my job may be boring but it pays well? And it’s fine for now, and I like the way my life is now? And it’s none of your damn business and you have no right to pressure me?” 

His face crumples in on itself, and I instantly feel horrible for unloading on him like that, even though he gave as good as he got. When he speaks again, his voice is more subdued. 

“I’m sorry, babe, I just… I don’t get it. I don’t get not going for the things you want, I don’t get wasting time if you want to change a situation, I don’t… I just don’t get it.”

I do. Well, I get where he’s coming from, at least. I know how many times he’s had the rug pulled out from under him when he worked hard for something he wanted. I know he’s lost people he’s close to. I know where this carpe diem thing comes from. But just because I get it, that doesn’t mean I have to abide by the same code. What if my version of carpe diem looks different than his? I wish he could get that into his head. But I’m turned inside out from our first real fight, so spitting out any kind of coherent explanation feels impossible. 

“I know. Just give me a little more time.” 

Jeff nods, accepting defeat, or at least a truce, and we plod up the stairs together in silence. I decide to stop at the third floor and let him go on to the fourth, because if ever there was a time to take advantage of having separate corners to cool down in, it’s now. We’re going to the show at separate times anyway. He doesn’t argue. He just shrugs and heads on without me. 

But I don’t key into my own place. I listen to his footsteps, wait for the sound of a door upstairs, count to ten, take a deep breath, and start up after him. This whole issue is so fucking stupid, why are we fighting about it? Obviously I love him and he loves me, and this is just a dumb misunderstanding of each other's priorities. I should just go spit it out, right? He'll understand, right?

Instead, I find myself stopped short in front of Cora's door. I know I should go talk to Jeff, but no one understands me quite like she does, and I really just want a sympathetic ear. As usual, her door is unlocked, and as usual, I let myself in like I live here, basking in the familiarity, in the reassurance of a known quantity, until… 

“Oh… my god… Cora... WHAT the FUCK did you do with your hair????”

#it's not even proofread... ugh #but i do what i can okay? #chapter 28 #behind the sun #fanfiction #fanfic #pearl jam #stone gossard #eddie vedder #jeff ament

[artificialqueens]

Sweet Music Playing in the Dark: Ch. 1- Fire Escape (Craquaria)- Dill

hi everyone!! it’s been a while since i’ve submitted on this blog, but i decided to give it another go! this is the first chapter of a new fic i wrote a while ago and i’m (finally) almost done with the next chapter! you can find me @ drdill on AO3 as well as the remaining chapters of Home (the first fic i wrote)

I hate elevators.

You wait for half an eternity in the lobby fresh off your 9-to-5, only to crowd into a little 4x6 room just like every tired, irritable person around you, then stop at

Every.

Single.

Floor.

Don’t get me started about the summer when sweat becomes a factor. It’s a free, disrespectful sauna. If I didn’t live on the eighth floor, I’d take the stairs, but what sociopath would willingly do that?

It’s a Friday in late May, particularly Memorial Day weekend. The chipping cream-colored paint in the lobby paired with dirty maroon rugs welcomes me off the sunny Brooklyn streets. Most people around are eager to escape for the next couple of days, but I’m sequestered to my apartment to research the new summer color trends. How riveting. The bell rings as the doors open. Walking on quickly, I press the button and seclude myself in the corner. I feel like a fucking sardine, begging no one tries to speak to me as I put my earbuds in. Every “excuse me,” and quick neighbor catch-up is silenced by Bowie and the drums of “Fame.”

Though I’ve never spoken to anyone in this elevator, I somehow know all of them. There’s Joanne, who’s always in a hurry for no goddamn reason, Alan, the workaholic accountant whose undereye bags could be an airport carry-on item, Mike that calls his wife when he gets in the elevator, then gets mad when the signal cuts out, some others whose habits are mildly concerning, and me- the art school dropout. It’s a melting pot of people pretending to have their shit together until they step foot into this building.

I count the floors: 2, 3, 4, 5, and one by one, they shuffle off while I bob my head to the music. Finally able to breathe, I shift out of the corner when I notice a new guy hiding behind Mike. He’s shorter, no more than five and a half feet with umber hair that’s faded on the sides. His wardrobe might as well be a walking Gap advertisement- a powder blue button-up and khakis paired with matching brown belt and shoes. One last person gets off on the seventh floor before it’s just the two of us, causing more confusion when I realize he’s going to the same place I am. Why haven’t I seen him before?

He’s oblivious to my stare, scrolling through his phone. I’d be lying if I said he was my type, but I’d be lying more if I said he wasn’t pretty cute. His pants hug his hips nicely, showcasing his ass before my eyes wander to the front of his-

Pull yourself together, Giovanni. You can’t mind-fuck a stranger in the elevator.

A small hop and the doors open to the eighth floor. He follows me out, still ignorant of his surroundings, ice shuffling around in his coffee as he takes a sip. I reach my door and fumble with the keys when I notice he’s unlocking the door next to me.

That’s…Kevin’s place, as in my very loud, dark-skinned neighbor of 2 years, not this puny white guy. Based on his physique, there’s a zero percent chance he mugged Kevin, so why does he have a key? When he opens the door I hear him enthusiastically say “Hi, Muffin!”

Muffin is Kevin’s cat, so he clearly knows him well enough to be chill with the world’s most evil cat. Regardless, I get inside, throw my stuff on the kitchen table, and give Kevin a call.

“What’s up, G?” He sounds like he’s in a car.

“Hey, I just watched a very small white man walk into your apartment way too happy to see your demon-child.” I’m talking in a low voice as if he’ll hear me through the concrete walls.

His laugh erupts through my phone. “I’m sorry, girl. I totally forgot to tell you!”

“Kevin if this is another guy you met two weeks ago that ‘is definitely the one,’ I’m gonna move out. He’s clearly not your type.”

“Calm down, bitch! It’s just my friend Max. He’s moving here from Seattle in a few weeks and wanted to get a feel for the area. I invited him to stay at my place for the weekend while I’m gone. I just dropped him off from the airport.”

Ah, so that’s Max. Kevin’s mentioned his friend from college a few times but never gave much description. I was imagining someone a bit…taller. And more muscles for a guy with a black belt. It’s underwhelming.

“Rude of you to leave without saying goodbye, but I guess I’ll survive sitting alone outside.” Kevin and I have some intense solidarity from hating our neighbors and sharing a fire escape. Not a day goes by in warm weather without a quick chat on the metal platform. It all started with a false alarm one Tuesday night, causing both of us to run out like idiots and get to talking.

“I’m just going to visit my fam. My sister’s been bugging me to come and see her new house.”

I sigh dramatically. “My blunt and I will miss you dearly, princess. See you Monday?”

“You bet! Love you girl!”

“Love ya, bye.”

I hang up and think about my next move. Do I go over and say hi? That’s way too forward. Do I stay inside all weekend and act like I don’t know he’s here? Well, that would just make me a rude fake-neighbor. Neither sound too appealing at the moment. I settle for a compromise: I will introduce myself…tomorrow- let him get his feet wet a little bit in Brooklyn. I’m sure I’ll be seeing him around more often if he’s moving here soon, anyway. Satisfied with my plan, I make myself a grilled cheese because I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and get to work on my research.

—-

Dusk falls over the city and I’ve spent too long staring at Pantone’s Tumeric and Pepper Stem swatches with reference photos from fashion week. I form a makeshift portfolio for the editors and close my laptop. For finishing ahead of schedule, I roll a celebratory blunt and head for the fire escape.

A deep blue swallows the sky with a bright yellow streak as the sun sets over downtown. The temperature has finally cooled down as I step through my window and touch my sandal on the serrated metal beam. Supporting myself on the railing, I feel the night breeze run across my skin and catch my v-neck before raising the blunt between my lips, sparking the lighter quickly, and inhaling deeply. A quick burn runs through my throat on the first drag, eyes closed as I let the remaining smoke exhale to the sky. The streets are pretty peaceful at this hour, probably because there’s nothing around me but nail parlors, shoe stores, and boutiques that close at 6pm. My temporary neighbor has been suspiciously quiet all day. Normally I can hear Kevin washing his dishes or watching TV when I’m out here, so maybe he’s gone out for the night.

I’m about halfway through my joint when I hear blasting, stark trumpets from behind. Confused, I turn around and detect the sound coming from Kevin’s window, slightly cracked. I creep over to investigate, walking softly so the platform doesn’t rattle, slowly peeking through a slit in the curtain to see Max belting what sounds like “Boogie Wonderland” and dancing around Kevin’s kitchen. Now I can see why they were friends in college.

He’s cooking dinner- some type of pasta, adding pepper on beat and shimmying his shoulders. Those hips of his get put to work, scooting across the floor to grab the garlic bread and place it in the oven. It’s mesmerizing; hilarious, yet adorable, and I can’t look away. I start to realize how long I’ve been staring and get out of sight before he sees me. Somehow, I’m comfortable spying on this man but not knocking on the door and greeting him. Congrats, Gio. You’re officially a creep.

Max must be in a disco mood when the song fades out and “Relight My Fire” immediately follows. I’m giggling at the situation I’ve found myself. This definitely beats the same three Nicki Minaj songs Kevin plays on repeat while he cleans, so I might as well enjoy myself while it lasts. I finish the blunt as I begin dancing around the fire escape like an idiot, bouncing around and singing lightly to myself:

“Relight my fire,

Your love is my only desire,

Relight my fire,

Cause I nee-”

Spinning with my eyes closed might not have been the smartest idea. On my third rotation, my left sandal gets caught on the ladder as I started to move forward. My right knee hits the platform first, followed by my right hand, then elbow, then hip. A loud crash supported by sharp pain in my knee is enough to know I fucked up, and I will probably be getting some company out here soon.

The music ceases. Shit. I hear footsteps getting closer, my back facing the windows. The curtains are pulled back as a voice says “Oh my God!”

I look over my shoulder and see Max open the window and pop his head out. His face reads as really confused, but concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah I’ll be okay,” I reply as I try to push myself up, hissing when I bend my knee. Looking down, I see a trail of dark red run down my leg. Great.

“Here, let me help you clean that up.” He motions me to come inside the apartment. Knowing that I fully don’t own band-aids like a dumbass, I have no choice to accept. I scoot my way over to the window and take his hand.

“‘Tis but a scratch,” I joke, lifting my leg onto the windowpane. He’s laughing while gently pulling me into the apartment. I take my previous statement back about his lack of muscles. His bicep is about to pop through the shirt sleeve, and I wouldn’t have a problem with that.

“I’m Kevin’s friend Max, by the way.”

“I’m Gio. I promise this isn’t a normal welcome to the neighborhood.” I’m shaking my head smiling.

“It’s better than the homeless guy that showed me a magic trick outside the coffee shop earlier,” he giggles.

He puts my arm around his shoulder and rests his at my waist as he walks me over to the kitchen chair, slowly drops me off, and props my leg on another. The apartment is lit dimly, only the lights above the stove and oven providing a yellow tinge to the room. I see a large pan of chicken alfredo and I’m suddenly hungry again. He turns off the burner, runs a washcloth under some cold water, and kneels next to me, lightly dabbing the wound to soak up the blood.

“Hold that there while I get some ice to help the swelling.” Our hands lightly brush against each other as he gets up to go to the fridge. I’m trying to understand the amount of care he’s giving me. He’s such a nice guy; I’m a complete stranger and he’s treating me better than most of my exes.

He grabs a zip-top bag from the drawer and starts filling it with ice.

“So, what brings you to Brooklyn?” I ask him, acting like I didn’t speak to Kevin hours ago.

“I’m getting relocated for work. The publishing company says they need my ‘talents’ in the New York office.” He’s using air quotes, blatantly unamused.

“Jeez, don’t sound so excited about it,” I smirk. He gives a soft smile, closing the freezer door.

“It’s not that I’m unhappy about the job or moving here, I just want more time write my own stuff instead of editing other people’s work.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Trying to be.” He shrugs, coming back to my side and lightly placing the ice above my scrape. I wince as the cold towel touches my skin.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I reply. “It sucks not getting to do what you’re passionate about, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a little bit- the tales of a struggling artist.

“Do you want some wine? I probably shouldn’t drink the whole thing by myself.”

“Red or white?”

“White.”

“I could have a glass or two.” He smiles and heads back to the kitchen to get glasses and a wine opener.

“So,” he says twisting the corkscrew in, “what’s your story?”

I sigh deeply. “Moved here from Philly, dropped out of art school last year, haven’t told my parents yet, working at a fashion magazine on complete luck.”

“Holy shit, how’d you manage that?”

“I modeled for a photographer to make some money right after I withdrew from classes, and he was friends with an editor there who was looking to hire an assistant.”

“Okay, that actually doesn’t surprise me.”

“That he and the editor were close?”

“No, that you were a model. Do you want ice?”

I’m slightly taken back while he pours two glasses.

“Wait, what?”

“Ice?”

“No. Well, yes, but no the other thing.”

“What? I’m not blind. You’re cute.” What a charmer. I’m looking down, containing the huge grin on my face from his line of sight.

“Thank you.”

He hands a glass to me and heads for the bathroom. I shudder when it touches my tongue, further supporting my hate for dry wine. However, it’s free, therefore I will drink it happily. Upon returning, he brings some ointment and various sized band-aids.

“I wasn’t sure what size you’d need,” he laughs.

After drying the area around my wound, he applies the ointment, then gently places the bandage overtop. Every action thus far has been with such tender composure, as if he’s performing surgery. Wiping his fingers off, he grabs his wine and sits next to me- not on in a chair, on the floor with his legs crossed. I think he’s suddenly my type.

We exchange stares with silent smiles, finally giving me time to admire his soft, chestnut eyes that crinkle each time he grins, as well as the little, curled hairs resting on his forehead.

“You’re pretty cute, too,” I blurt out.

“Oh, thanks,” he says, a bit flustered at the compliment. His eyes look away, only to avert to my ice pack that starts leaking. I feel a drop of water run down my leg onto the floor.

“Let me get you a new one.” he starts to stand up. “I can get it.” I sit up and reach, getting used to the pain.

Our hands meet one another’s again as we grab for the washcloth at the same time. A tension begins to form in the air when we lock eyes less than a foot from each other’s face. His lips are slightly pursed, breathing heavier than normal.

It feels like slow motion as I lean in closer and shut my eyes. I feel his left hand relocate from my knee to the base of my neck, our lips separated by centimeters, foreheads touching as I feel his breath right under my nose. My lips brush lightly against his when-

DIIIIIIIIING

The oven timer provides as much warning as the fire alarm. We jump away at the sound, hearts pounding from shock. Max starts regaining his composure before jumping up and shutting it off. He rests his arms on the counter, sighing before looking back at me, holding back a laugh.

“I think my garlic bread is done.” His head falls in his hands as he starts to laugh from embarrassment. I join in as I stand up for the first time, limping over to the counter, and grabbing a potholder. He opens the oven door for me, red-faced as I place the tray on the stove, still laughing.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” He asks me.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since I smelled the garlic bread,” I giggle. He hands me a plate.

—-

I think I stayed at Kevin’s for about three hours. We talked about books, bonded over our dying love for Emma Stone, and gave each other new album suggestions while washing the dishes together. It felt so natural, to the point where we finished the bottle of wine even though I couldn’t stand it. A yawn builds up and I curse myself for getting tired, wishing I could stay until the sun rises.

“I think my bed is calling me,” I tell him. He nods.

“I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, and this time, I’ll try not to trip on the fire escape.” His giggle becomes my new favorite sound after hearing it so much.

Our goodbye was a quick hug, nothing more than the attempted kiss before dinner when I duck out the window and climb into my apartment.

Having this one close to home will be dangerous.

#rpdr fanfiction #craquaria #miz cracker #aquaria #fluff #dill #sweet music playing in the dark #m/m au

[poppyssupergirl]

It Wasn’t Meant to Be a Love Letter

This is for Kim, @hypnobyl , who is super great and a superb writer and it is their b-day!!!! I hope your time in Florida is super great yo!! 

May this silly little b-day fic brighten your day, just a lil :D

Also, thank you to @the-queen-of-the-light for betaing the first 3 sections, you da bae!! 

The complete story is below the cut, but you can also read this on AO3 

Cat doesn't hide her birthday, not really. She just doesn't find it professional to celebrate it on company time. There was far too much to do before worrying about her birthday.

However, nearly every CatCo employee receives a signed birthday card from their esteemed boss. Kara's got all of the birthdays right in front of her, in a calendar.

And Kara's looked, multiple times, but Cat's birthday isn't there. She's done digging on the internet, she's even looked at Cat's Wiki page and even there the date changes every few days.

Heck, maybe Cat's changing it because Kara just can't find the right date.

She's there, again, prepping a card for Cat to sign, when it really hits her. She's been Cat's assistant for well over a year and she still doesn't know Cat's birthday. Kara'd gotten a card on her arrival-to-Earth day, hand-picked by Cat, but she still doesn't know Cat's birthday!

Carter. Carter is her only option. Lois might know but… the things she would owe the woman.

Kara clicks her pen and pushes back from her desk. She knows Carter’s nanny. She can definitely get another evening with the boy. She snatches the card off her desk and waits as the last of the board members exit Cat’s office.

Cat doesn’t look too haggard and there’d been no yelling, but either way, signing the card will brighten her mood. It always does. It’s kind of cute really. Big, bad boss enjoying the little moments where she can brighten her ‘minion’s’ days.

She can’t really wipe the smile that the thought triggers off her face, so, instead, she just smiles all the wider and walks into Cat’s office. Cat gives her the signature eyebrow raise, but she just hands the card over.

“Here’s the card, is there anything else you need right now, Ms. Grant?” She bounces on her toes. She just can’t help it.

“No, not right now. Just make sure I have the layouts from advertising by four.” Her pen glides across the card, her usual flourish giving the whole process an air of elegance. She’s rather beautiful to watch. She holds out the card and Kara reaches to take it. “What has you so bouncy on this fine Wednesday, Sunny Danvers?”

Ah, whoops, but oh well. “Just a new project, Ms. Grant!” Her eyes trail to the card and really, Cat’s handwriting is magnificent.

Kim H. Nobyl

The name swirls under the printed ‘Happy Birthday’ with Cat’s own signature under that. And, oh, Cat is in a good mood; she’s used her extra fancy pen.

She doesn’t press for any more explanation, just waves Kara out the door. It’s for the best, Kara has lots to do now. She needs to call the nanny and arrange a day with Carter… and also figure out how to get Carter to tell her what Cat’s birthday is.

Well, food would work on her…

It’s about three months until she can finagle her own, Cat’s, and Carter’s schedule to where she and Carter have an afternoon alone. Cat thinks she’s running errands… technically it’s not a lie. Not really.

Cat just deserves something nice, she does! Cat's quite nice under her prickly exterior and her eyes are always so gentle. This will be good for her… it’s a white-lie, right? She’s heard from Alex that those aren’t bad.

Yeah, a white-lie.

Carter walks over to her when she waves. They’ve interacted before, just not a lot. He’s a smart kid and maybe she can convince him that her cause is worthy.

“Hi, Carter! I came instead of your nanny, sorry for the surprise, but I’m here to spend the afternoon with you!” She puts on her best smile but Carter just nods. That’s… well… kind of to be expected. He’s a shy kid.

“Okay then, the car’s right over here.” She leads him away from the school and he remains silent. “How were classes? Did you learn anything new today?”

She gets another shrug and a mumbled, “Plants follow sunshine.” Well… that’s something to work with, right? Better than nothing at least.

“Oh yeah!” She plops down in the backseat next to him and smiles at Raeni, the only driver she trusted to keep this mission secret. “It has something to do with water right?”

Carter turns toward her a little, his shoulders relaxing back and oh, he’s such a good kid. “Yeah, the cell walls use water pressure to grow toward the sun.”

No wonder Cat’s so enamored with him.

“Really?” There weren’t many plants on Krypton, but Earth science always fascinated her. Botany though… it’s not that plants are boring, but, how could she be interested in plants when there were birds around? “How does the plant know where the sun is?”

Carter lights up a little more and oh no, this boy, he’s truly his mother’s son. Adorable.

“Well, there are little receptors in the plant that take sunlight in and turn it into a chemical that…”

She’s fifteen wiki articles deep before Carter is satisfied with their explanations on botany. It’s nearly five in the evening and Kara’s stomach is being rude at the moment. Honestly, if it could just calm down, that’d be great.

Carter laughs and ouch, ouch, but he takes her hand and leads her to the kitchen so all’s forgiven pretty quickly. Quicker when she realizes that Carter’s pulling take-out menus from the drawer he’s just opened.

“Pizza or Chinese?” He glances up and golly, this kid’s a keeper.

“Both?” She shrugs and Carter rolls his eyes. That’s far too much like his mother, and gosh, he’s got Cat’s eyes too. Gorgeous.

“You’re calling it in then.” And that same bargaining that quickly turns to commands… he’s learned from the best.

She reaches for her phone and Carter points to the circled items on both menus. The line clicks through to-

“Hello, this is National Pizza, what can I do for you?” and she nods to Carter before replying.

“Hi, I’m ordering for delivery to the Grant residency.” Carter trundles off as the woman on the other side of the line forgoes her ‘we don’t deliver speech’ in favor of the 200 percent tip Cat always sends back.

She hears the soft ‘shhh’ of water running and good, she doesn’t even have to convince him of a shower. That’s always nice. Now, for the best potstickers in the whole city…

“So, how’d you convince Nan to take the day off? And why did you?” Carter’s got half a slice of pizza shoved into his mouth and it’s the first truly disgusting thing Kara’s seen from him.

She coughs, because, uh, why would he think that? Her eyes must say her question well enough because this… what is he? 12? 13? 47? year-old rolls his eyes again and Kara’s pretty sure he thinks she’s dumb.

“Nan never takes off unless mom asks her to or it’s her kids’ birthdays.” Yeah, he definitely thinks she’s dumb, ouch. He crams another slice of pizza into his mouth, and she must wince because he grins at her and, ew, ew that makes it so much worse, ew.

“Uhm, ew, and well…” He’s probably going to find it out anyway. Plus, how is she going to get him to not tell his mother about Kara being here? “Okay, so, y’know your mom, right?”

O-kay, that’s definitely Cat Grant’s child. Wow, and she thought she had laser vision.

“Okay, yeah, so, anyway. I can’t find her birthday.” His look darkens and she backtracks, raising her hands to placate him. “Not her birth year! Just the day! See, well, she gives cards to all her employees, and it’s actually really sweet. Even though she pretends to be mean, she’s really not. But the point is, she even got me a card! And usually I get the card for people and take it for her to sign, but she got me one on her own which is really nice, especially since I hadn’t even been her employee for very long so I wanted to get her a card or maybe like, a little gift or something to show my appreciation because she can be hard to work for but she’s also really great and kind and inspiring so I wanted to, y’know, get her a birthday card like she did for me….”

Carter’s just looking at her. That’s the same stare that Cat gives her. Oh, it’s just as disquieting. Why are Grants like this?

“So, I need her birthday for that… which is why I wanted to talk with you… not that! Not that the rest of our day wasn’t nice! I’m not trying to use you to get to your mom! Or… oh no, that’s kind of exactly what I’m doing. Oh no, that’s terrible, I’m so sorry. I can try to find her birthday elsewhere, I just wanted to get the date right.” Oh she’d royally messed up, oh golly, he’d probably kick her out and-

“It’s April 24th.”

Oh? “Oh? Oh. Oh, okay.” She blinks and he looks like he’s holding back laughter and that’s just what she needs, fantastic, a 13-year-old laughing at her. Alex will never let her live this down. And- “Shit, that’s next week.” Oh crap, golly -darn “I mean, crud! I meant crud! Don’t curse, it’s really rude!”

Carter laughs, head back and, grand, now he really is laughing at her. But Kara can't help her own laugh. This 13-year-old with far too much sass, goodness.

She has seven days to decide what to get for Cat. She takes six of those seven.

It's… difficult. There's nothing she can get for Cat that Cat can't just go out and buy. So, she makes something instead.

Maybe it's dumb but… well, it just sort of fits Cat because Cat loves what she does and loves what she's built so? Kara can't help but agree; Cat's done amazing things and she's an amazing person.

But the small, wrapped present in her hands feels so, so underwhelming. The card's fine, a basic Happy Birthday with Kara's signature and a small note wishing Cat a nice day. She's just nervous because Cat might get angry?

Or hate it?

But she still leaves the card and wrapped canvas on Cat's desk while she's at a meeting. She keeps it discrete, of course, no need to draw attention to something Cat wants kept on the down-low. It wouldn't be professional at all if she went about making a scene.

She places the package in the middle of Cat's deck. But no, it's not that important. Not that Cat isn't important, just that the present isn't that important. So maybe to the side a little… yes, just beside the layouts for the opening of the new high school next week.

Golly, why the butterflies? It's just a small painting. A painting of CatCo at high noon, the sun shining over the multitude of glass windows and CatCo is beautiful and powerful, just like it's creator. So the painting fits, yeah.

But it isn't as realistic as some of the paintings Cat could go out and buy… but, no. No, it's a nice painting, it really is and Kara shouldn't be doubting herself like this. She should trust Cat. Trust that Cat might just appreciate the thought?

Yeah. Yeah and maybe find something to eat because her stomach really needs to settle.

“No, Brian, I’m not following another one of your ponzi schemes. Now out with you.”

Welp, there she is. Kara scuttles back to her desk, standing to see if Cat needs anything. She gets a distracted wave as Cat answers a call on her cell. She won’t need anything for a while then…

Oh, except the edited version of Snapper’s newest updates! Woops, should have gotten that earlier.

Cat makes it to her desk and flops in her chair, ah, the phone call isn’t a pleasant one. Not that Kara would ever eavesdrop, just, if it’s Carter, Cat’s always so light in her movements. She should get Cat some water.

Cat’s fingers ghost over the layouts and skip to the letter, sitting on the covered canvas.

Oh golly.

Cat finishes her phone call and Kara can’t move now. She doesn’t want to attract attention. Oh golly, those butterflies are back. She can’t help but watch though, Cat’s curious look is… cute, really.

Oh golly, Cat’s cute. Oh but no, she’s not just cute, she’s gorgeous.

Oh no.

No. No.

Her fingers peel back the envelope and oh, she’s so graceful and her eyes flick over Kara’s handwriting and a tiny, soft- oh gosh, so soft- smile spreads over her face and her lips are so-

No.

No, Rao, no.

Her hands cover the canvas and oh gods above, the ocean is pounding around the building. There’s definitely got to be a problem with the cooling system. That can’t be a sound a heart can make.

The paper slips off the canvas and her lips part and all the air rushes from the room. Her eyes rove over the painting, the strokes in fine grey and gold, and her smile can’t be kept tamped down. Though the muscles twitching in her cheeks show how hard she’s trying and those green, green eyes that can swallow space and time and -

Oh shit.

Cat looks up at her and blinks and Kara breathes in so sharply she’s pretty sure Winn hears her. She swallows but those eyes are still staring at her and her mouth is moving and…

Thank you.

Oh.

Oh, all the weight of the world dropping from her shoulders couldn’t make her feel like this. Golly, the butterflies are gone and there’s just tingling through her whole system. She tries to squelch her smile, especially when Winn asks what’s going on but…

Golly, wa-pow, indeed.

You can also find this on AO3

#supercat #this was fun #b-day fic #hypnobyl #Kara realizes she's in love with Cat and it's all wa-pow