#LET WOMEN OF COLOUR TELL HAPPY STORIES CHALLENGE

[ukrfeminism]

3 minute read

Our country!

Sophie Brown loves the countryside and wanted to make it easier for other women of colour to enjoy it, too. So she founded a walking group that gives black women an opportunity to spend time in the great outdoors.

[full article below cut, including other UK-based groups enabling people of colour to access the countryside]

Words: Jo Caird | Photos: Dave Caudery

It’s a perfect July afternoon and the sun is blazing down on the Bristol Steppin’ Sistas as they make their way along a circular route outside Pensford, a pretty village on the River Chew. Laughter and chitchat fill the air as the group – 12 women of colour, most of whom are in their 50s – passes under the magnificent arches of Pensford Viaduct (“very Harry Potter”, observes one walker, with a chuckle) and out into fields.

“This is already boosting my happy hormones,” Adelaide tells me as we follow the path close to the river, its reed-lined banks attracting all manner of buzzing creatures. “You don’t think about your life and your issues. You just have a laugh and hear each other’s stories.” The Sistas split into smaller groups as they stroll, twosomes and threesomes catching up since the last time they walked together, or getting acquainted for the first time. 

It’s Angela’s first excursion with the group, a chance to break in the splendid pink-and-grey walking boots she bought herself for Christmas as an incentive to return to walking, a hobby she took up during the Covid-19 lockdowns but has since let slide. “I thought this would be a great way to trigger things and get me back into doing lots of walking,” she says, stopping to tie a bootlace. “I liked the thought of finding little nooks and crannies inside of Bristol and the surrounding area.” That’s been Donna’s experience, she tells me, as we walk down a steep hill across a hay field. “The group has enabled me to go to places I would never have gone,” she says, clumps of sweet-smelling hay catching on her trainers as she walks. “Pensford is just outside of Bristol but I wouldn’t have known about it.”

The British countryside, you see, has something of an access problem. While 69% of white adults visit nature at least once a week, according to the Government’s Monitor of Engagement with the Natural Environment (MENE) survey, the figure for black and minority ethnic (BME) adults is just 42%. It’s worse still for Asian adults, at 38%. Given that time spent in nature correlates strongly with good health and happiness, thanks to the physical and mental health benefits of fresh air, exercise and exposure to wildlife, inequality of access represents a major challenge for society. Particularly when one considers that a larger proportion of the black population is overweight or obese – and therefore more vulnerable to other health challenges – than other ethnic groups. 

The reasons for the disparity of access to nature are multiple and complex. Easiest to delineate are the physical barriers, which are tied to the fact that incidence of poverty is much higher for BME families, with 46% of Less straightforward but no less critical are the cultural barriers, which can depend on the demographic make-up and ingrained attitudes of a particular area, the specifics of a person’s heritage and upbringing, and their previous experiences of visiting the countryside. For many visible ethnic minority (VEM) people, the British countryside simply isn’t a very welcoming place. As Sophie Brown, who founded Bristol Steppin’ Sistas in April 2021 out of a desire to create a space of connection for black women walkers in Bristol, puts it: “There are places where we’re reluctant to go, where we feel uncomfortable.”

She and other members of the group tell me about being verbally abused, denied entry to pubs and generally treated with coldness. Fear of dogs is common in many VEM communities, so the presence of unleashed animals in green spaces can also be off-putting. A question like, “Are you lost?” might seem superficially harmless, but comments like this can have an exclusionary effect, even if well intentioned. It’s not that all interactions with rural people are negative, the Sistas say – probably only around half, or maybe less. The trouble is that you just never know what you’re going to get. “Walking with my white friends is a very different experience,” explains Di. “They are completely comfortable. There aren’t any issues and you see the privilege.” 

CAMARADERIE TRUMPS BIGOTRY 

Walking with the Steppin’ Sistas doesn’t offer immunity from discrimination – it’s just that the camaraderie of the experience trumps any negativity that can take place. As Di says, shortly before cooling herself down on this sweltering day with a spot of wild swimming in the River Chew: “We’re there to enjoy the countryside and we generate good energy. And hopefully we change a few attitudes when we’re smiling, chatting, having a lovely time.”

CREATING CHANGE 

The Steppin’ Sistas is part of a wave of walking groups that have sprung up all over the country in the past few years with the express intention of getting VEM people out enjoying the British countryside. “When I first moved to Bristol, women of colour were probably walking, but I didn’t see any,” says Sophie. “That was a big question everywhere I went: why do I not see any other black women?” 

Ornithologist Mya-Rose Craig – who started her popular ‘Birdgirl’ blog aged 11 – had a similar experience when she organised a birding camp in 2015. “I noticed that the only people who had signed up for it were white middle-class boys,” she says. Mya-Rose, who is of dual British-Bangladeshi heritage, took it upon herself to diversify the camp, using word of mouth and VEM community networks in Bristol to bring kids out of the city and “show them the outdoors”. Fighting against the false and pernicious idea that “there are just certain types of people who can’t be engaged in the outdoors”, she then used her platform to start a conversation about access with nature organisations across the UK, a conversation that is still going on today. 

Despite being just 14, Mya-Rose then founded Black2Nature, an organisation that runs nature camps for VEM young people and campaigns for equal access to the countryside. For Mya-Rose, access to the countryside isn’t just about “tackling mental health issues and fighting discrimination”, though those are important elements of her work. It’s also a means of engaging people in environmental issues. “Why should people care about these things if they have never even experienced nature or the outdoors? Biodiversity loss means nothing to someone who has never experienced biodiversity,” she says.

REPRESENTATION MATTERS 

Groups such as Steppin’ Sistas and Black2Nature are doing great work in facilitating access to the countryside at grassroots level, but it’s important the fight isn’t left to VEM-led organisations alone. Inequality is a national challenge and it’s therefore down to our national rural institutions to step up. 

“We need to be creating environments for everyone,” says Eric Heath, a senior project manager at the WWT. “We should be making them as welcome as possible, and organisations need to be looking at themselves and who they are appointing, how they’re run and how they are presenting themselves to the world. Because representation matters.” 

Tiger de Souza, people engagement director at the National Trust (NT), agrees. Having VEM people front and centre in marketing materials – one of a number of initiatives designed to make NT sites more welcoming to a broader range of people – not only encourages these groups to get into nature themselves. It also “starts to normalise for us, as a whole society, that you should expect to see people of colour enjoying the outdoors.” 

Adelaide, who was “searching for something to identify with” when she came across Steppin’ Sistas two months ago, believes the group has a positive influence on the world around it. “It inspires people. They see the connectivity and might be like, ‘Ooh, shall I join?’.” 

Jo Caird is a freelance journalist based between London and the Suffolk coast. She writes for magazines, national newspapers and websites, specialising in wildlife and lifestyle stories with a strong community focus. jocaird.com 

BLACK PIONEERS OF NATURAL HISTORY AND CONSERVATION 

Born in 1866, one year after slavery was outlawed in the US, Matthew Henson spent 18 years exploring the Arctic and mapping the Greenland ice cap. In 1909, he became the first black person to visit the North Pole. 

Marvyne Elisabeth ‘MaVynee’ Betsch was born in 1935, the same year that her grandfather, Abraham Lincoln Lewis, Florida’s first black millionaire, co-founded American Beach, a community hot spot for African-Americans when Jim Crow laws made access to nature difficult. In 1977, Marvyne – aka ‘The Beach Lady’ – fought to protect American Beach from development, and donated huge sums to environmental causes. 

Charles Young, born into slavery in Kentucky in 1864, became the first black colonel in the US Army before being appointed the first black National Parks Superintendent. He worked to preserve the extraordinary sequoia trees in California’s Sequoia National Park. 

NOW WALK WITH US! 

• Muslim Hikers was founded in 2020 to encourage Muslims to get outside, leading large-scale group walks in locations including Snowdonia, the Peak District and Yorkshire Dales. 

• Flock Together is a birdwatching collective for people of colour that organises monthly guided birdwatching walks. It has chapters in London, Toronto and New York. 

• The Sheffield Environment Movement, which evolved from the 100 Black Men Walk for Health group, runs farm tours, guided walks and more, working with VEM and refugee communities. 

• Black Girls Hike was founded in 2019 to provide a safe space for black women to explore the outdoors, hosting walks, activity days and training events. 

• We Go Outside Too was set up by Marlon Price in 2020 after losing his son to knife crime. The group provides opportunities for black people in the West Midlands to take part in walking, nature-based learning and holistic workshops. 

[annikasevenshots]

genuinely hate to shit on what's on the whole a super exciting teaser but i SWEAR to god if they continue to exploit raffi for trauma porn this season i literally quit

[ratinthedeadhouse]

Forbidden Love

My heart is devoted to the one I shouldn’t love...

Fyodor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Trying to keep it fluff.

"... A demon you say?" You question with hesitation, pale face bearing a frown as you try to put all the puzzles together. "That man is the super ability user and a terrorist that Yokohama is so desperate to catch? The very man, I spent countless evenings going to museums and libraries with? The very man with his astonishing diamond brain had helped me solve several murder cases?"

Silence settled between you and other Special Division Forces agents who glared at you with fear or utter confusion.

Nobody knew of your accidental connection with Fyodor Dostoevsky, or simply known as Demon Fyodor, and it sure was a surprise to you when your (e/c) eyes noticed a familiar face on all the screens and papers in the office with a screaming title: 'Wanted Criminal. Terrorist. Fyodor Dostoevsky. Highest rank ability user. Ability unknown.'

You honestly had no idea who the mysterious slender man was when you first met him at the museum. He looked charmingly tired, sharp purple eyes looked deeply into your soul while you both stood, rather awkwardly, near a woodblock painting that depicted the suffering of young children and women. Their weak bodies engulfed by flames, others were drowning in the peaceful veil of water. Despite the horrible scenario the colours united in harmony making you both stare at it for longer than you should have.

"The choice of the colour pallet... It mocks their suffering" you stated after a while, rather talking to yourself but hoping, subconsciously, that a curious stranger with a funny white hat would respond to your comment. To your amusement he did.

"Mhm," he nodded at first, pinching his chin like philosophers do while thinking and then slowly added: "Maybe the painter wanted to tell us that not all sufferings are recognizable at first glance. I noticed when walking up to the painting, the bright colours made me think of happiness and kindness, however, now that we stand closer to it we see that their very souls are in terrible agony" Fyodor's voice was soft like moonlight rays with a gentle touch of a foreign accent.

"I suppose... It depicts life itself. We never know how much one suffers due to the façade they’re putting" you said with a sad smile. At this very moment you looked delightful, Fyodor found a strange pleasure in watching your serious face merging into a saddened frown. And oh, he did it on purpose. He could've chosen a less explicit interpretation of the absurd painting but in his calculated mind he knew that this version would strike you the most... And he was right.

You still didn't move from the tiny painting, twirling a strand of your silky, (h/c) hair around your finger, beautiful eyes glued to the painting but your thoughts wandered far away. 

It took one glance from Fyodor to understand your entire being, no matter how complicated you think of yourself - to him you are an open book, and he could not resist the urge to live the faint mark on one of those innocent, white pages. 

“I apologize if my interpretations upset you, miss...” started Fyodor with a polite smile curving upon his frail face, but was interrupted by your sudden enthusiastic reply:

“Oh, please don’t apologize. One is a fool if they are not moved or hurt by art” your voice was gentle and soft and Fyodor couldn’t help but love your words. 

Perhaps you two were more similar than he thought at first. In any case, enchanted by your watchful careful eyes, your smile and graceful movements of your hands, your speech and voice - he couldn’t just let you go like that, out of his sight. 

A man tilted his head sideways a little, looking pleasantly amused, letting his dark locks fall upon his cheek, gently. “It seems that I found a charming lady who shares a similar view on things with me” something bittersweet hid in his words but it didn’t matter to you. 

With a small, delightful laugh you move your right hand forward: “My name is, (y/n). A pleasure to meet you” 

Expecting a handshake you watched as the man in a long dark cape came closer, gently grabbed your pale small hand and softly kissed the back of your hand;

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady” he murmured watching how your pupils dilate. “My name is Fyodor. Would you agree to spend the rest of the evening in my company?”

Walking around with a stranger whom you’ve just met seemed like a ridiculous idea... But you felt safe around him, although his eyes were dark as a bottomless well, you agreed but made a promise to yourself to stay on guard. However, he cast away all your suspicions in just a few hours. 

You became good friends, discussing ancient Myths and modern poetry embarked on philosophical journeys sitting in the dim corner of the library simply enjoying the presence of each other. He even played his cello for you under the mocking bright moon. His words and the depths of thought sometimes caught you off guard however, you were able to track his line of thoughts and in return challenged him with your endless and charming affection. 

Fyodor never learnt what the word love truly meant. He could explain its psychological and physiological effect but never experienced it himself. He was in absolute control over his feelings and that is why he felt confused when you would meet him with a bright, loving smile that changed into a slightly concerned frown when you noticed dark eye-bags on his face. Why did you notice it? Why did you care? Who gave you the power to capture his heart so suddenly and so... wrongly? 

For the first time in a long while, Dostoevsky felt as if he made a dreadful mistake. At first, he thought of you as a pawn. Easy to move and easy to get rid of. But you reminded him of himself... yet you were so much better! Despite your intellect and wittiness, you had a warm, loving heart, that even accepted a demon like him. It all changed when you finally opened up to him about your placement of work. That’s when he realised how forbidden your relationship would be. Soon you would find out anyway about his identity, his goals and... it would wound you. Deeply. 

Soon he stopped coming to the museum where you two would usually meet. You remember that day. You took his favourite tea from the shop and held it in your cold hands while the hot drink burnt your fingers. 

‘He will never come again’

You felt as if you lost a piece of your heart. But you never cried about it and kept all the memories of the mysterious man named Fyodor close to your heart, or rather what was left of your heart. 

But now it all makes sense. The puzzle is complete. You stand in the room full of your colleagues who proceed to glare at you in silent amusement and your heart leapt in ecstasy. The adrenaline rushed through your blood as your cheeks turned red - you felt like the main character of your own story, engaged in a forbidden relationship with the demon himself. 

You didn’t care about the consequences but on entering the Special Prison for the restrained Ability Users, shadows of doubt crept within your heart. 

“Please wait here, ma’am. You sure you want to interrogate him?”

“Yes” 

“In terms of emergency, we won’t be able to assist you immediately... ” 

“I understand”

The heavy door was shut behind you, a metal desk was drilled into the floor and so were the chairs. No windows - just solid rock walls that reminded you of a medieval dungeon, except there were no cracks at all. Finally, you heard footsteps and another door before you was opened. 

“Good afternoon, Fyodor,” you said in a strict tone trying to hide your excitement as much as you could. 

His lilac eyes widened in surprise, thin lips parted as he watched you right there before him. In his head, he tried to process why you came out of your way to see him? Did he not abandon you back then? Did you not realise what a hateful creature he was? 

“(Y/n)... Why are you here?” he questioned curiously. 

You were now completely alone in the interrogation - underground cell. He watched you come closer to him with a soft smile looking with kindness into his soulless eyes... 

“Why, you ask? Because I love you. That is the only concept you failed to fully understand. Monsters have hearts as well, they just need to learn how to love” words fell softly from your rosy lips while Fyodor closed his eyes and chuckled to himself. 

“Talking to you is pure joy (y/n)! Love is the ultimate atonement of all human sins. Even a Devil needs someone to love him at the end of his immortal life...“

“... Angels did fight for Faust’s soul at the end, despite all his reckless deeds” you added referencing the work of a German poet, Goethe. 

Fyodor sighed. He reached his slender cold hand towards you and you grabbed it without hesitation. 

“Will you be... my angel, (y/n)?”

You nodded raising your bright eyes at him. A soft kiss was placed upon your forehead before he hugged you letting you bury your face in his shoulder. You were like a blooming flower in his deadly grip... but he would never hurt you. Ever. 

People say the forbidden fruit is sweet... But is it so for the forbidden love that burns like fire?

 lmao part 2 is gonna be saddddd (if I get the motivation to even write it) 

[yukinojou]

I already squeed quite a bit on Twitter, but turns out my Shadow and Bone thoughts demand longform. So that was a 40+ tweet thread or using my Tumblr for an original post for once.

I was wary about the Shadow and Bone adaptation the way I'm usually wary about good books being adapted onscreen. It was amplified because my actual favourites are the Six of Crows books, and because the American-based movie complex has a bad track record of doing anything based on Eastern Europe. 8 episodes in 3 days should tell you how much I loved it - the moment I finished, I wanted more.

First, the technical praise:

Damn but the plotting is tight. It took me a while to realised it's based on heist movie bones, where every little thing (The Freaking Bullet!) is important. The story fulfills its promises and manages not to bore at the same time - it delights by the way they're fulfilled. I called out a few plot developments moments before they happened, and I was happy about it. Such a joy after so many series where "not doing what viewers expect" led to plot holes and lack of sense. It might be an upside to the streaming model after all.

From a dramatic point of view I can tell all the reasons for all the changes, especially providing additional outsider points of view on Ravka (Crows) and letting viewers see Mal for themselves the way he only comes across in later books.

Speaking of which, this is a masterclass in rewriting a story draft. SaB was Bardugo's first, and having read later books you can really see where she didn't quite dare to break the YA rules yet, especially Single POV that necessitated a tight focus on Alina's often negative feelings rather than the big picture and a triangle that felt a bit forced. The world in the series is so much bigger, the way Bardugo could finally paint it when SaB success gave her more creative freedom, and some structural choices feel familiar too. It's a combination of various choices by crew and cast, but the end result meshes together so tightly and naturally.

Visuals! Especially the war parts because Every Soviet Movie Ever, but also the clothes (I would kill for Nina's blouse in the bar), the jewelry, the interiors. The stag was so very beautiful. And a deep commitment to a coherent aesthetic for each character and setting.

Look, you can do a serious fantasy series with colours! Both skin colours and bright sets and clothing! And all scenes were well lit enough to know what's going on, even in the Fold!

Representation (aka I Am Emotion)

To start with: I was born behind the Iron Curtain, in the last years of the Cold War. The Curtain was always permeable to some extent, and we have always been aware that while we have talented artists of our own, we never had the budgets and polish of the Anglosphere Entertainment Machine. So we watched a hell of a lot of American visual storytelling especially because yeah, you can tell we don't have the budgets. 90s and 2000s especially, it's getting better now.

In American stories, the BEST case scenario for Eastern European representation is the Big Dumb Pole, the ethnic stereotype Americans don't even notice they use, where the punchline is that his English is bad or that he grew up outside Anglo culture. Other than that, it's criminals, beggars, sex trafficking victims, refugees. Sure, we may look similar (except we really really don't, not if you're raised here and see the distinct lack of all those long-jawed Anglo faces), but we are not and have never been the West, never mind America. It's probably better for younger people now, but I was raised under rationing and passport bans. Star Trek and Beverly Hills 90210 were exactly as foreign to me.

The first ever character I really identified with was Susan Ivanova in Babylon 5 (written by J. Michael Straczynski, yay behind-camera representation). This was a Russian Jewish woman very much in charge, in the way of strong women I know so well, not taking any bullshit, not repressing her feminity. I recognised her bones, she could be my cousin. The sheer relief of it. There have been few such occasions since.

The reason I picked up Shadow and Bone in the first place was recommendations from other Polish people. I've had no problems finding representation in Eastern European books because wow our scene is strong in SFF especially, but it's always a treat to find a book in English that gets it. And Leigh gets it, the bones of our culture, and I could even look past the grammar issue (dear gods and Americans, Starkova for a woman, Morozov for a guy) that really irked me because of the love for the setting and the characters, the weaving in of religion/mysticism (we never laicisized the same way as the West, natch), the understanding of how deep are the scars left in a nation at war for centuries. The books are precious to me, they and Arden's Winternight and Novik's Spinning Silver.

To sum up: Shadow and Bone the Netflix series gets it. You can tell just how much they've immersed themselves in Eastern European culture and media, it comes across so well in visuals and writing and characters. Not just the obvious bits (though the WWII propaganda posters gave me a giggle), but the palaces, the additional plotlines and characters, the costumes, the attitudes. About the only thing missing in the soldier scenes was someone singing and/or quoting poetry.

I will blame the Apparat's lack of beard on filming in a non-Orthodox country. Poland's Catholic too, but I very much imagined him as an Orthodox patriarch, possibly because I read the books shortly after a visit to Pecherska Lavra in Kiev and the labyrinthine holy catacombs there. Small quibble, not my religion, not my place to speak.

(I've seen discussion on the issues with biracial representation in the show, which is visceral and apparently based on bad experiences of one of the show writers in a way that's caused pain to other Asian and biracial people. I'm not qualified to speak on those parts, other that Eastern Europe is... yeah. Racist in subtly different ways. If anything, the treatment of the Suli as explained in Six of Crows always read so very true of the way Roma are treated, and even sanitised.)

And now for the spoiler-filled bits:

Kaz and Inej. I mean... just THEM. So many props to the actors, the writers, the bloody goat.

I adore the fact the only people who get to have sex in the show are Jesper and a very lucky stablehand.

Ben Barnes needs either an award or a kick. The man's acting choices and puppy eyes are as epic as his hair.

So Much Love for Alina initiating the kiss. Her book characterisation makes sense, she's so trapped in her own head because she has no time to process everything that's happening, but grabbing life by the lapels is a much more active choice. Still not making the relationship equal, but closer to it.

Speaking of, Kaz's constant awareness of how unequal his relationship with Inej is, and attempts to give her agency. I'm really curious how his touch issues come across to someone who doesn't know the backstory there.

Feodor and his actor. He looks exactly like the pre-war heartthrob Adolf Dymsza, a specific upper-class Polish ethnic type that's much rarer now that, well, Nazis killed millions of Polish intellectuals in their attempt to reduce us to unskilled labour only. The faces he makes are the Best.

Nina!! Nina is perfect, those cheekbones, that cheek, I was giggling myself silly half the time. I cannot wait to see Danielle Galligan take on the challenge of Nina's plotline in Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom, she'll kill us dead.

I already mentioned that the writers fixed Mal's absence from the first book, but Mal in general! The haircut gives him a kind of rugby charm, and Archie Renaux is outstanding at emoting without talking. Honestly, all the casting in this series is inspired, but him in particular.

Extra bonus: Howard Charles and Luke Pasqualino playing so very much against the type of the swaggering Musketeers I saw them play last. Arken dropping the mask at the end... Howard Charles is love.

I can't believe not only was Milo's bullet a plot point, but the fact Alina was wearing a particularly sparkly hair ornament in a long series of beautiful hair ornaments was a plot point.

In conclusion: so much love, and next three season NOW please. Okay, give me a week to reread the books, and an extra day because new Murderbot drops tomorrow...

[themidnight-ghost]

I should tell you

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the wee donkey, are you dating Joanne Davidson?”

“Boss, I honestly don’t see an issue...” Kate trailed off as Ted massaged his temples.

“You don’t see an issue? She swears at her superiors, has affairs with her staff, shot an officer twice in the chest, set up a plot to kill you and replied with ‘no comment’ to almost every bloody question.”

The euphoria Kate Fleming felt around Joanne Davidson was extravagant. Even now, when they lie in bed together trying to come down from their high, Kate still felt energised. The DI rolled over to face her girlfriend, with the bedsheets pulled up to her neck and subtly smiled.

Kate ran her left hand through Jo’s hair and cupped her cheek with the other, “Morning, boss.”

Jo opened her eyes and grinned when she met Kate’s, “You don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“I want to,” Kate replied honestly.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” Jo simply said as she moved forward to kiss her girlfriend tenderly. No one would have expected that Kate Fleming and Jo Davidson would become a thing. Especially after Jo’s arrest. Heck, they didn’t even know if Jo would survive prison! Jo paused their kiss, and Kate looked unexpectedly at the DI, “You should probably tell Steve and Ted.”

The moment was ruined.

Kate tensed as she sat up, pulling the duvet with her and laughing when she pulled too hard, so Jo was left bare, “What?”

“I said-'' Davidson smirked as she deliberately rolled onto Kate’s chest, making her blush, “You should tell Steve and Ted. You may not be related, but they’re your friends.”

“What if I don’t want to tell Steve?” Kate challenged with a whisper, not looking away from Jo's eyes.

“You can look at my tits, Kate. I don't mind.”

“JO!” Kate profusely blushed and shoved her ex-boss to the side,

Jo snickered and leant back into the DI for a cuddle, “It isn’t like you haven’t seen them before.”

“But seriously,” Kate hummed when she went back to being serious, “Steve will support it; I know he will. But Ted? I don’t want to tell. He might not like it.”

“But he threw confetti at that proposing gay couple?”

“That’s different. Not only am I his colleague, but I’m also dating a woman who committed multiple offences to the law and it’ll be awkward, especially in a work setting.”

“Yeah, I still feel a little guilty for that,” Jo confessed.

“You shouldn’t. It was shitty, but you did it because Pilkinton had a gun to your head and somehow made things right, but,” Kate hesitated and wrapped an arm around Jo’s torso, “that still doesn’t change what happened.”

“Steve’s your best friend, and from what I can tell, you’ve known Ted for a good while.” Jo gently kissed Kate’s jaw before shuffling away, allowing the DI to go downstairs.

“I might.” Kate smiled as she grabbed her underwear and a towel from the floor, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kate.”

Both women had been dating for a significant amount of time. Their story started when Jo broke up with Farida, and the two started getting close. After that, there had been a series of unofficial dates, secret glances, handholding, confessions and a memorable car getaway. Kate was embarrassed that it took her so long to come to terms with her feelings.

The night when Kate shot Pilkinton was definitely memorable but for all the wrong reasons. Kate couldn’t care less that she’d shot an officer; the only thing she cared about was saving Jo and getting them far away from town. She was looking forward to a life of peace without bent coppers lurking around corners and getting married to the woman she loved. That being said, Kate didn’t confess her love until Jo was in prison.

Finally arriving at work, Kate scanned her ID and headed straight for Ted’s office.

“Morning, Kate.” Hastings didn’t look up from his computer.

Tapping her on the shoulder, Steve approached with two cups of coffee from behind, “The Gaffer thinks he’s found something worth looking at.”

Kate raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? What’s it relating to?”

“Our friend, Jo Davidson.”

Kate’s heart dropped to the floor. Was it bad? Who was she kidding? Of course, it was going to be bad.

“I don’t want to make any sudden moves,” Ted admired his coffee, “Let’s just wait it out.”

Steve knew that Kate had some sort of soft spot for Jo. He didn’t know the details of their relationship but was aware they were close,

“Has she mentioned anything to you since she was released?”

Kate shook her head.

“Strange.” Hastings began, “I was quite hoping we’d seen the last of her. The poor girl’s been through enough as it is.”

Kate picked her fingernails, and her stomach churned over, “Can I confess something?”

“Of course…” Hastings folded his arms and leaned across the desk, gesturing for Kate to take a seat.

“Do you want me out?” DI Arnott hesitated.

“It’s alright, Steve. I need to tell both of you anyway.”

“I’ve been seeing someone,” A beat, “romantically.”

The confession slipped out, and jumping the first hurdle was surprisingly easy, but unfortunately, it wasn’t as straightforward as that.

The Gaffer corrected his posture, and Steve cocked his head, “Oh? For how long?”

“About 4 months.”

Steve looked slightly hurt, “And you never told me?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” Kate replied sheepishly.

Steve and Ted weren’t blood-related, but Kate still viewed them as her family. One of Kate’s strongest memories was when Steve slept on her sofa bed every night after her husband left.

“What’s his name?”

Another hurdle appeared that Kate had to somehow jump over - the gay hurdle. Until she met Jo, Kate never imagined herself to be bisexual. The haircut had always been misleading until now.

“He’s a she.” Kate wouldn’t say she was scared of her boss, but she certainly valued his approval and Catholic beliefs.

Ted paused to think this over before leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes, and smiling. The smile grew, and a flower of hope blossomed in the DI’s chest. Steve was grinning at both reactions and patted Kate reassuringly on the shoulder.

“I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to tell us,” Steve spoke for them.

“Does this mean you’re okay with this?” Kate didn’t know why she needed an answer, but she would feel even better with confirmation.

“It’s your life, of course, we are! Now, who is she?”

“Okay, okay”, Kate could burst with excitement! Even though they didn’t know it was Jo, Kate could still describe her lover in perfect detail. “She has short, dark brown hair, which has a subtle wave at the end. She is pretty pale, so in the sun, her freckles come out, but you won’t see them unless you’re super close! Her cheeks are always red because she is somehow always blushing!” Kate continued to gush, “Her eyes are brown, and her favourite colour is blue! She was also a police officer-”

“You told them yet?” Jo Davidson leaned in the doorway with a giant grin plastered on her face, “or are you just going to keep describing my facial features?”

Silence.

Jo stopped as she realised what she’d said.

Kate looked between Jo, Steve and Ted. She loved her ex-boss, but she really needs to learn to read a situation.

Steve and Ted simultaneously looked between Kate and Jo. Their brains slowly put the puzzle together in an organised fashion. The hair, the skin, the blush, the eyes and finally, the favourite colour.

The history hurdle.

The grinding of Ted’s chair against the floor wasn’t enough to pierce the tension between the group. Kate ushered her girlfriend into the office, closing the door, taking her hand and cautiously walking over to Steve and Ted.

“Jo, this is Steve. Steve, this is Jo.” Kate introduced them, and Jo waved shily. “Jo, this is Ted, Ted this is-”

“I know who Jo Davidson is.” Ted’s voice was a deadly monotone. “How did you even get in?”

“I walked through the door.” The awkwardness had obviously got to the former SIO, who proceeded to bite her lip as she glanced around the room, eyeing the wall with great curiosity.

“Davidson.” Jo’s head snapped back to the situation as Hastings addressed her. “Are you dating one of my officers?”

“Well-” Jo didn’t know what to say, and thankfully, Ted didn’t want to hear it.

“Katherine Laura Fleming.” Kate flinched at the use of her full name.

“Your middle name is Laura?” Jo tentatively asked before Ted shut her off. “Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the wee donkey, are you dating Joanne Davidson?”

“Boss, I honestly don’t see an issue...” Kate trailed off as the Gaffer rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t see an issue?” Ted tried hard to keep his composure, “She swears at her superiors, has affairs with her staff, shot an officer twice in the chest, set up a plot to kill you and replied with ‘no comment’ to almost every bloody question.”

“She also commanded multiple armed officers, is super observant, tactically agile, Scottish and be honest: we all know I was the one who shot Ryan Pilkinton.”

Steve sniggered. “I just can’t believe you both.”

“After everything, she's done? I don’t know if I should be impressed or appalled.” Ted corrected.

“You’re not mad?” Kate pushed,

“I'm not mad, but I’m seriously debating whether I should fire you for stupidity. You said it’s been going on for 2 or 3 months, but when did it even start?”

“Jo and I have been shagging on the sly for months.” Jo snickered at Kate’s comment, “But for me, it started in the getaway car and when Jo went to prison. I always felt different about her, but it only hit me when I thought I’d lose her for good.”

Kate’s sentence pulled on Jo’s heartstrings as she remembered the recent events. Throughout her short time in prison and working on Operation Lighthouse, Kate had been her friend and colleague. She cared for Jo more than anyone else in her life and Kate was the only person to make an effort and ask about her day. Overwhelmed, the smaller woman buried her head in Kate’s shoulder, forgetting all about the angry Ted Hastings. Kate kissed Jo’s forehead and smiled fondly down at her.

Both Steve and Ted thought they knew exactly how Jo Davidson worked, especially after interviewing Farida they pictured her as a manipulative, self-centred psychopath. The recent interview didn’t exactly change their opinions either. But this was different. It wasn’t normal for anyone to see Jo vulnerable, but it looked easy when she was with Kate. Jo relaxed, her shoulders dropped, breathing steady, eyes shut with a gentle smile. And in the years Steve had known Kate, he had never seen her blush as much as she did now or look at someone with so much compassion and… love?

“Just so you know, we don’t care that you’re gay, mate. And we shouldn’t care who you date either. I think it was just a shock for Hastings here.” Steve patted his boss on the back.

“It was a shock to me too.” Jo finally addressed the room, “I thought I was done. Mentally, physically and romantically.”

“I should apologise for my words,” Ted replied sheepishly, “I have nothing against anyone, but as you can tell, I’m still a little prickly.”

Jo awkwardly picked down the skin on her fingers, “I don’t blame you, sir.” It was still a little awkward between the trio, and Ted was determined to settle things, “I didn’t get a chance to mention it, but I’m impressed with your knowledge of the law, especially in that interview.”

Kate proudly squeezed Jo’s arm, “Thank you.”

“Unfortunately,” Ted continued, “I can’t let you back on the force-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that: I’m done with police work altogether.” Jo looked fondly at Kate, “I just want to focus on my life and what I have left.”

“Wise words.” Steve nodded, “Can I get anyone another coffee?”

“Tea, please.”

“Same here.”

Steve headed towards the door, gesturing Kate to follow.

“Is it wise to leave them there alone?” Kate jogged after her colleague.

Steve grinned, “Let them talk about rules for a while; I’d rather know all about this new development!” he playfully nudged Kate’s arm and jumped for joy when they were at the coffee machine and out of sight.

“You gonna calm down now?” Kate chucked before looking serious, “By the way, what did you find out about Jo? Should I be worried?”

“Go no! There was a small break in around your apartment. We checked the security cameras and noticed Jo Davidson walking past and holding hands with…” Steve dragged out the answer before pointing to DI Fleming, “you.” Kate turned pale as Steve continued, “I had my suspicions, and we intended to mention it today, see if we could get a reaction. Guess I didn’t even have to try, mate.”

☁️ First ever Flemson fic, fist time watching Line of Duty - that ending was NOT IT (expect a 4000 word alternate ending fic soon) if you read this, thank you x ☁️

[morningsound15]

The Wedding: A Sombre Affair

Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie, Theodora “Theo” Crain & Jamie

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,753. Complete.

just a little Haunting of Hill House/Bly Manor crossover because it wouldn’t leave my brain! enjoy the drabble

.

Jamie takes a long sip of her whiskey. She hopes it will calm her shaking hands, but they shake all the time, now. Whether she’s sober or not. Age or arthritis or exhaustion catching up with her. It’s hard to say which. All she knows is her joints are stiff and her hands shake.

She rests her head on the cool wood of the mantle, taking a moment to breathe in the silence. The story always takes a lot out of her. She’s perfected its telling over the past few decades, carefully working the cadence of her voice, getting the pacing just-so, drawing out the people in her memories until they’re actual characters, realized and lovely and full of life. She tries to be kind to them, in her retelling. She tries to think of them sympathetically, as all people deserve to be thought of, but she knows that some of her embellishments are too liberal to be fully believable.

Even so, all good ghost stories need some embellishment.

She’s just not sure which parts are real and which are embellishment anymore.

It’s hard to even know how many of her memories are truly hers. Bly Manor feels a hundred lifetimes ago, and with every passing year it feels further and further still. Slipping out of her grasp like the sands of time through her fingertips. It’s a feature of the mysterious house that the memories caught within are destined to wither and fade — to wash away smooth, like rough stone at the bottom of a lake. That’s part of why she tells the story as often as she does. She needs to preserve the memory of Bly and the ghosts within.

That’s all ghosts are, really. Just memories the living refuse to let go of.

It’s a small comfort that Miles and Flora don’t remember much of their childhood at Bly Manor. Children aren’t meant to live through terrible things. The ghosts have long left them behind, and unburdened they have become lovely young people, vibrant and full of life. Flora is married now, and she made a truly beautiful bride. Jamie spins the ring on her finger, thinking of her own marriage-that-wasn’t. It’s not a melancholy memory, not anymore. She once was overcome with sadness and grief over her own loss, the future that was stolen from her, the forever happiness she could once taste on the tip of her tongue, but that feeling has long since faded. She is an old woman now, too old to be overcome with such sadness.

Still, weddings are something of a sombre affair.

“Your story was wonderful,” a voice says behind her, and Jamie straightens, subtly wiping at the moisture in the corner of her eyes.

She turns to see a young woman behind her. She looks strangely familiar, though Jamie is certain they’ve never met. Her hair hangs in loose waves, the dark blue of her dress contrasting with her pale skin. Her face is angular and her eyes are a cutting pale green, so light they’re almost blue.

It’s her eyes that are so shocking. They knock the breath out of her. Jamie stares at the woman for a long moment, unable to speak. Dani’s eyes had been almost exactly the same colour (when they had been her eyes alone, when they had been hers and not Hers).

The woman must see the hesitance on her face. She holds a hand out. She’s wearing a pair of long evening gloves, silk. They go all the way past her elbows. A curious look, for a wedding that isn’t black-tie.

Jamie’s always had a preternatural ability to tell when a woman is gay. She knew Dani was interested in her the moment their eyes met. It had been a dangerous feeling, electric and sharp up through her spine. She ignored it for as long as she could, but Dani was a magnetic presence; not easily ignored.

“Theodora,” the woman says when Jamie takes her hand. “My friends call me Theo.”

Jamie knows as soon as she shakes this woman’s hand that she’s a lesbian. Call it intuition, call it perception. Either way, it relaxes her. She’s long grown tired of explaining her bachelordom to well-meaning young straight women who see her refusal to re-marry as petrifying as a death-sentence. As if to be unloved for a moment is to be wholly miserable. As if there is nothing more terrifying than being an old woman with no partner to hold her at night.

(They misunderstand her. They think that being single means she is unloved. She isn’t. She’s been loved wholly and completely, all-consuming and never-ending, since she was a young woman. She’s never doubted it for a moment.)

(Sometimes she feels arms wrap around her in her sleep. In her dreams she is warm and loved. She feels the presence of another human being in her bed, feels warm breath on the back of her neck. It’s always gone by the time she wakes up, but she chases that feeling, longs for it every time she closes her eyes.)

(She looks for her in the mirror, in the bath, in the silver chrome of napkin dispensers, the dark emptiness of a dormant television, in her makeup compact. No one else ever looks back, no one but her own face.)

“Nice to meet you, Theo.”

She finds young queer women particularly interesting. Sometimes, though not often, she allows herself to think of what her life might have been like, had she and Dani been born a few decades later, had they come of age in a world more prone to acceptance and open-mindedness than the stifling environment they lived in. She doesn’t think about it often — it’s a sad thought, not worth dwelling upon. Besides, she wouldn’t trade their time together for anything. It was perfect, exactly as it was, exactly when it was. It’s not worth thinking of might-have-beens.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Theo says, looking a little uncomfortable. She stares at Jamie intently, as if studying her. As if looking for something hidden in her face. She wonders if she looks as familiar to Theo as Theo does to her. She wonders if that means anything, or if it’s just another occurrence in a life of strange occurrences. A remarkable coincidence of mutual and impossible recognition.

“Are you with the bride’s family?” Jamie doesn’t recognize her, but then again she’s not particularly close to the Wingraves anymore. Not enough to keep track of their extended friends and family.

But Theo shakes her head. “The groom. Old family friends. My sister is getting married next year. John’s going to be in the wedding party.”

“Ah.” The silence between them is awkward. Jamie doesn’t know what to say, nor how to politely excuse herself. “Lovely service, wasn’t it?”

Theo nods. “Very sweet. Short.”

“Yes, short is usually better, as these things go.”

Jamie looks down at her empty whiskey glass and longs for a top off. The reception isn’t even halfway done, and she’s already fulfilled her role as ‘Elder Relative Storyteller’ for the evening. She has nothing left to do but linger until it’s appropriate for her to slip off on her own.

She much prefers being alone these days. Other people are challenging for her, difficult to trust. They find her difficult to understand. Best to be avoided altogether.

“Can I help you with something?” Jamie asks when Theo still doesn’t speak. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

“Can I ask…?” Theo clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s about your story. The gardener.”

Jamie swallows the wavering smile and keeps her expression neutral. “Of course. What did you want to know?”

“Why did she stay with the au pair? She knew their love was doomed, but she stayed with her all those years. Why?”

Jamie’s smile is tiny, but she can’t help its presence. Thinking of Dani always makes her smile. Even when it’s tinged with sadness. “The gardener knew that she wouldn’t be able to have the au pair with her forever. But love and possession are opposites. Loving her was never about having her.”

“But the au pair’s spirit never returned. She left the gardener alone. She could have taken her in the lake; they could have been together forever. Isn’t that… isn’t that what they both would have wanted?”

“To truly love another person is to accept the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them,” she says, repeating Owen’s words from a night ago. It is a lovely summation of her own life, though it’s painful to hear. “Dead is not gone.”

Theo takes a shaky breath. She closes her eyes.

Theo has a haunted look to her. Jamie wonders if she has ghosts of her own, hiding somewhere just out of sight. Occasionally she meets others like her; people with histories long-buried, with ghosts lingering in the closet. People who have lost too much too young, who have death sticking to their souls like an unescapable shadow.

She wonders if that’s why Theo sought her out. Those who have been touched by spirits have a certain sadness to them. Prolonged contact with the dead has that effect.

“It really was a lovely story,” Theo says again. Her eyes are wide, kinder now. They shine with something. Jamie wouldn’t call it tears. Maybe ‘melancholy’.

“Just an old wives’ tale,” Jamie dismisses. “Something to set the mood. Weddings have a way of making a person think of her own mortality. And it’s an old house. Old houses deserve ghost stories.”

“Is that all it is? A ghost story?”

Jamie’s lips twitch. “I always thought so. Flora disagrees.”

“Flora?”

She shakes herself. She keeps forgetting. “The bride,” she explains. “When she was a girl we called her Flora. The nickname lingers, though she doesn’t respond to it anymore.”

“She didn’t like your ghost story?”

“She didn’t think it was a ghost story at all. She said it was a love story.”

“Same thing, really,” Theo whispers, and Jamie sucks in a quiet breath.

“Yes. I suppose so.”

Theo continues to stare at her, and it’s getting a little unnerving. She regards Jamie with a gaze that is unblinking and fixed. She traces the lines in Jamie’s face, the grey of her hair, the veins on the backs of her hands. It would be uncomfortable, or maybe erotic, except there is nothing like desire in the woman’s gaze; nothing that says she’s interested in what she’s seeing. More like she’s troubled by it. Or disappointed.

“You still have something on your mind, Theo,” Jamie says kindly. People, like ghosts, have a tendency to linger as long as their business is unfinished. She doubts she’ll have a moment of peace tonight until Theo decides that her curiosity has been tempered. “And I’m beginning to doubt it has anything to do with my ghost story.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to stare. You… look like someone I used to know. And I thought…” She looks down at her own hands, encased in black silk. She pulls at the fingers of her right hand glove, one by one freeing the digits from their confinement.

Jamie watches her carefully. Theo flexes her fingers and holds her hand out again.

Jamie doesn’t know what makes her want to take the woman’s hand. She knows with a settling finality that she’s going to; there are some things that are destined, even tiny moments such as this. And she’s long believed in destiny.

She still hesitates for a moment. She’s not sure what’s going to happen when their skin meets, but the way Theo looks at her makes her think it’s not something she wants to find out. That only makes her more curious.

It’s been a long time since she sought out physical contact. It had been too difficult after Dani. No one else ever touched her the way Dani had, and no one ever could. She used to wonder what she would have done if she’d been able to touch Dani one more time. She hadn’t been able to swim low enough. The Lake was too deep, or Dani hadn’t wanted her to. She’s not sure if those are different things. She’d reached out, longed for Dani to take her in her arms once more and hold tight and never let her go. She’d wondered if Dani’s skin would have been warm or cool to the touch, and which would have been worse — knowing she’d only just missed saving her, or knowing that she’d been taken long ago, and there was nothing in her power that could have saved her from the Lady of the Lake.

Theo doesn’t prod her. Jamie takes her hand of her own volition.

She’s not sure what she expected. Something electric. Some shifting of the world, a re-focusing of spiritual energy maybe. Maybe an apparition appearing behind her eyes, a chill down her spine. The presence of something or someone long-dormant, exploding into being.

The touch is unremarkable. Theo’s hands are soft and warm. Her gloves have kept her skin baby smooth. She holds Jamie’s hand more softly than when they shook earlier, and Jamie looks at where their hands touch, her older sun-damaged skin standing in stark contrast to the perfect youth in front of her.

Something settles in her stomach. It’s not a feeling she can describe, but it settles and when she looks at her hands again they’ve stopped trembling.

Curious.

“The gardener really loved her,” Theo says quietly, her hand still soft in Jamie’s. And Jamie nods, unable to speak.

“The au pair… she loved the gardener, too. That’s why she left her. By leaving she knew she was leaving her true love, too. But… she had to.” Jamie blinks. “If she stayed she was risking them both. And Dani would never risk that. She couldn’t risk you.”

Jamie’s knees buckle underneath her. She drops Theo’s hand as if burned and takes a few stumbling steps back. Her glass slips from her trembling fingertips and it shatters against the floor.

Theo recoils, quickly slipping her hand back into her glove. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, casting her eyes about wildly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

“Who are you?” Jamie whispers. She knows this woman’s face. She’s seen it before, somewhere long-ago… in her dream, or in the shivering surface of a warm bath, or at the bottom of a frigid, misty lake…

“Aunt Jamie!” Miles catches her elbow, steadying her. Jamie blinks, his face swimming in front of her eyes for a few moments before it sharpens. “Are you alright?” He looks towards a nearby waiter. “Come clean this glass up!” he snaps. “Someone could get hurt.”

He leads her gingerly to a nearby couch, despite her protestations. “I’m fine,” she promises. “Just a bit too much to drink. This old house is drafty. I’m fine, I promise.” Still, he doesn’t leave her side until she’s had some water and bread, until her heart rate has slowed and the band resumes playing.

The strange woman in the gloves has long-since vanished, and though Jamie looks for her for the rest of the night, she never sees her again.

.

.

She falls asleep in her room later, and it is a fitful sleep. She curls up on an armchair, uncomfortable and cold, but she prefers to sleep this way. The discomfort prevents her from sinking into a too-deep sleep. It means she is perpetually unrested, but she’s gotten used to the exhaustion. The alternative — that she will sleep through the night, sleep through a visitor, any attempted contact… it’s not something she is willing to risk.

It’s a fitful sleep, full of fitful dreams. Smoky haze and icy water. Dani is there, or maybe she isn’t, and a woman she knows but cannot see, a woman with wavy brown hair and long slender fingers who reaches for her, reaching out out out—

A warmth settles over her, so slowly she doesn’t even notice it. Her dream grows restful again, her breathing steadies. She sleeps as if on the softest bed, wrapped in the warmest blanket. Her mind is empty of all worries. She sees Dani closer now, sharper. Her smile and her smell, her eyes brilliantly blue and all hers, all her.

Jamie smiles in her sleep. The hand on her shoulder tightens. The calm settles over the hotel room, just a woman and her memories, a woman and her ghost.

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Twelve: The One With the Coffee

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3073

Lily Briar Osborne. The girl that would lay her life down on the line for anyone who even showed her the slightest of affection. Or even just said hi to her on the subway or something. She would never hurt a fly. Never raise her voice or become angry. Even when parents grew upset with a diagnosis Lily had given to their child. But when it came to her son, her boy, the earth she, the sun, revolved around. That's when she would cut someone. She would go to war for Hunter, and everybody who knew Lily understood this. And they all knew never to cross her when it surrounded her only child.

She would even dare to take on the challenge of a six-foot-four, 220 pounds, man, made out of strictly muscle. Lily Osborne. The five-foot-five, 128 pounds, meek, and frail doctor would throw down in an apartment building parking lot almost an entire foot taller than her if it meant protecting her son from his reckless tendencies for the rest of his (hopefully) long-lived life. The surge of strength that ran through her veins rivalled the primal levels that a woman can feel while experiencing childbirth. For it has been scientifically proven that the mama bear instinct is indeed a real thing women experience, their child or not. It is wired in a woman's DNA to place their own life at risk or face an unspeakable force if it meant protecting a child. Especially when that said person is a mother, it heightens that instinct.

So the sheer thought of Scott putting their child, and Mary's, in danger, was enough to make Lily a new woman. One with no reservations or any sort of anxiety holding her back. She wished to inflict the pain he made her feel on to him. Make him experience the heartache that he had caused her for over ten years. Together or not. The heartbreak he inflicted on her. The feeling of abandonment that Hunter experienced at such a young age. And it all came to a head because he had decided to make the brilliant choice of leaving his children home with a deadbeat babysitter. And all she wanted was to strangle the life out of him.

But that would create more problems than it would solve, wouldn't it?

"What do you mean I'm done being a father? He is my son Lily," Scott grumbled, his voice dropping a few octaves in an attempt to create a more domineering presence.

"He is more Gen's child than he will ever be yours. The divorce gave you a second chance to be better. And you blew it. Again," the blonde snapped, stepping back and draping her arm across her son's frail shoulders, "Tell Mary to call me if she needs any divorce tips."

With the final dig served, Lily lead her son and the others back towards her car, where everybody piled in. But before the doors shut. One voice, one powerful and overprotective voice spoke out, "See you in court, jackass." Rose's voice called from the driver’s seat before Gen slammed the door and everybody was locked inside of the car.

-----

After dropping Gen and Rose off at Gen's apartment building, Bucky took over the wheel after Lily inputted the GPS. Seeing as he was the only sober one since Rose left...being a supersoldier and all. Lily sat in the backseat of her car, gripping her son close to her chest as the car revved along the empty streets of now suburban New York. Gentle music played in the background as Lily listened to the soft breathing emitting from Hunter's lips. The boy had dozed off not too long ago, and let’s face it, the boy deserved to have some shut-eye. He had just gone through something that would stick with him through all of his years. But one thing kept sticking inside of Lily's mind as if stuck on repeat.

Why was the guy calling out Scott's name while banging on the door?

"Want me to carry him in?" Bucky's soothing voice cooed, snapping Lily out of her thoughts. Without realizing it, they had arrived back at the quaint-style house that she and Hunter called home. Her hand halted from stroking the blonde hair atop of her son’s head and gave the man upfront a gentle smile.

"Oh, that's okay. I've carried him from the car a few times," Lily smiled while popping open the car door and scooping her son into her arms. She let out a quiet grunt as she stepped from the car, forgetting that he was still a growing boy. Seeing as he was turning 12 soon...Lily almost became tearful at the thought of him growing up. Clearing her throat, she nodded to the keys in Buckys hand, "Unlock the door for me would you?"

Complying, the three passed the threshold, coming face to face with a sleeping Joey at the front door. Lily smiled gently and stepped over the large dog that continued snoring on as she walked Hunter up to his room, tucking him in under the blue Captain America comforter she had gotten him for Christmas last year. Flicking on the Thor nightlight that sat on Hunter's bedside table, Lily placed a kiss on his forehead before shutting the white door behind her. She slid into her own bedroom to step out of her dress and pulled on pyjamas, scrubbing the makeup off of her face and letting her hair down. When she exited her room, her eyes spotted the kitchen light on, the blonde walked down the wooden stairs, feet tapping gently. Her green eyes laid on Bucky, looking at the framed pictures of the little mismatched group that Lily called her family.

Pictures of Lily, her brother, and her sister as kids. Lily a ripe 14 years old, Rose standing at a solid seven, and Cedar still being a young three-year-old. His eyes flickering across to one of Lily and Hunter in front of Stark tower When the young boy was only eight. Or Lily, Rose, and Gen sharing glasses of champagne at her bachelorette party all of those years ago. One of Lily's personal favourites though was her graduation photo. A bright smile plastered on her face as she held her diploma in her hands. But the one that Bucky couldn't seem to take his eyes off of is one of Lily's least favourites.

The first time that Lily held Hunter in her arms. Her hair stuck to her forehead from the sweat of childbirth. It had been 27-hour labour, and Lily's face stayed puffy and red as she held the freshly swaddled and cleaned baby in her gentle arms. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the baby halted his screaming the moment his mother’s heartbeat began to radiate in his ears. The god-awful hospital light beat down on Lily's face, creating a fluorescent glow around her already beaming facial expression. Everything inside of her wanted to toss the photo off of the picture table and keep it for her eyes only. But her mother loved the photo and managed to convince her ever-so-insecure daughter to leave it. Alicia Osborne had said it showed genuine happiness from her daughter and created a new light. It was raw and real. And that's what everyone loved about it.

Especially Mr. Barnes.

"Twenty-seven hours later..." Lily sighed gently as she leaned on the banister, "I wanted to get a c-section but looking back at it I'm glad I didn't...but the pain is still a haunting memory." The blonde commented, eyes scanning over the pictures herself.

In each picture that was taken without Lily's knowledge, her smile was bright. A warm glow lit up any room that she managed to find herself in. It was an infectious thing, the doctor’s smile. It radiated kindness and sincerity. A certain type of authenticity that seemed to be a gift that was few and far between. Everybody had become too hostile and aggressive with one another, but that one diamond always seemed to be found in a group of coal. And that's how the majority of people in her life viewed Lily. She was the one tomato that would grow on the plant when you first started gardening. The rose that stuck out brighter than the rest. And even though she tried so hard to blend in and run with the crowd, Lily's energy, or aura as Gen would say, was too charming for anybody to ignore. Much to the eldest Osborne's dismay.

"You look beautiful," Bucky began, hand resting on the side of the silver frame and lifting up the photograph, getting a closer look at all of the small details. The way the tears made her eyes light up like green Christmas lights. or how they seemed to be made of stained glass. How he could see all of the similarities between Hunter and Lily, even when he was just born. The curve of their noses, the twinkle of love in their eyes. A bit of Bucky's heart broke at the domesticity of it all. Sure he was a playboy back in the ‘40s, but he had dreamed of a family one day. A small home and a dog. A beautiful wife beside him and a son and a daughter, similar to the life that Lily leads now. but he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to find that, "Just...naturally."

Placing the sentimental picture back down, Bucky raised his ice-blue eyes to look at the woman that stood on the stairs. Her golden hair tousled, laying perfectly messy across her shoulders. The pale skin of her cheekbones that were naturally coloured a bit red. How Lily's face was so naturally beautiful, even with the faint acne scars on her cheek, the blemishes across her forehead and chin (no doubt from her work). The deepness of her under-eye that was permanently stained a purple hue from countless late shifts and sleepless nights. The way her eyes fluttered open and closed as she attempted to keep herself awake and coherent after the hectic night that she had just suffered through.

"Thank you. I didn't feel very beautiful at that moment though. Just a lot of emotions going through my mind." she chuckled sleepily, barefoot landing on the cool hardwood of the main floor of her two-story home. Lily stepped forward, past the supersoldier as she herself lifted the picture from his hand to look at herself and her son. But who was missing from the picture? You guessed it. Scott, "You're probably wondering where the father of my son is in this picture," Lily commented, tears welling up on her waterline, "Supposedly stuck at work. But I learned later that wasn't the case."

Dropping the framed photo back onto her small table collection, Lily kept her eyes down on the floor. She had grown ashamed (?) of her past relationship. How he had so obviously been walking all over her like she was a rug. And instead of standing up for herself and confronting the son of a bitch, she took it. For seven years, Lily took the pain and emotional trauma that Scott had inflicted upon her heart and mind. All because she hadn't had the strength or the courage to stand up for herself. To know her own worth and realize that she was Lily Osborne. One of the top pediatricians in new york. Single mother of an eleven-year-old boy. The woman who graduated top of her class, all while raising a child alone in New York. The girl who came out on the other side of an emotionally abusive and draining relationship alive and intact. She was Lily fucking Osborne. And she had allowed a deadbeat, no good, son of a bitch, to use and manipulate her like a pawn in his game.

And she was ashamed of it.

"And who's this big guy." Bucky's smooth voice cooed, once again, reeling Lily in from the dark corners of her mind. Lily glanced over her shoulder to see Bucky delicately stroking Joey's ears. The dog had a stupid grin on his face, just enjoying the attention from the new person his mom had decided to bring into her home.

"That's joey. The other boy in my life." Lily smiled, eyes creasing as she admired the way Bucky interacted with her dog. Though not much of a guard, clearly, Joey was an excellent judge of character. Lily had learned this when she once brought home a nurse friend and Joey lost his ever-loving mind. It was later revealed that that nurse was stealing money out of Lily's wallet. And really, ever since that moment, Lily trusted Joey's reaction to people she brought home.

And by the looks of it, the German Shepherd had a new favourite friend. Lily's heart swelled at the sight that had taken place in front of her. The soft touches Bucky made with his left hand. The metal one. It seemed as though Bucky was nervous he would scare Joey, or worse, cause harm. But to Lily, it was one of the most endearing things she had seen him do in the entirety of their friendship? If that's even what it was. The two weren't romantically involved, they weren't close friends. They were more so acquaintances. Of course, Lily was attracted to Bucky, he looked like he had been sculpted by the Greek gods. Not to mention, he was a kind soul. He was sweet and caring. And the way he acted for Hunter and the way that he treated Joey was evident of that.

"Uh, do you want some coffee?" Lily asked, scratching her cheeks with her nails, shifting her weight before walking off towards the white and grey-styled kitchen with navy blue accents. Her thin hand dripped the dark kettle and filled it with water before placing it back onto the boiling device. Her deep-set eyes glanced over her shoulder to see Bucky once again admiring the pictures placed aesthetically on a brown stained wood table, "Bucky?"

"Hm? Oh, sure. thank you." his voice echoed. It was a deep vibrato tone that sent a shiver down Lily's spine. It was a voice that Lily would love to hear in the mornings. One that she could only imagine would continue to drop a few octaves. Small grunts as he stretched after waking from a deep slumber. cradling Lily tight in his arms as Joey snored soundly at the end of their bed with the light shining through the sheer white curtains.

The feeling of his calloused flesh hand and the contrast of his cold metal hand sliding along her pale and supple side in the morning. Slightly chapped and swollen lips kissing her forehead as her soft breathing radiated against his chest. Whatever it was about Bucky, it had an everlasting effect on Lily. It kept her heart beating rapidly and her face growing a deep shade of red that matched the natural rosacea of her cheeks. She longed for the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around her thin waist as he pressed gentle and generous kisses to her cheek and down her neck, creating goosebumps on her skin.

Lily pulled out her coffee grounds from the cupboard and perked up when she heard the soft footsteps of Bucky's shoes tapping against her floors. After the kettle screamed at her, Lily poured two cups and took out the cream and sugar from her fridge and baking cupboard. Turning around, she came face to face with that same broad chest that she did all those weeks ago. A small gasp escaped her lips as the coffee sloshed inside of the navy blue mugs she held in each hand as she bit her lip.

"I take two sugar," he stated, cool eyes looking down at the girl as she attempted to avoid any contact between them. When she moved left, he thought to do the same. When she went to duck around his right side, he accidentally blocked her path. It was an uncoordinated, unplanned tango that neither one of them knew how to end. Well, that's what Lily thought at least.

His large hands reached forward and grabbed the mugs from Lily's. The supersoldier placed them on the counter island behind him before returning his attention to the much smaller blonde girl in front of him. Without thinking, he placed both hands with no hesitation on either side of her face. Her breathing came to a halt as he leaned forward and planted a deep and passionate kiss on her flower soft lips. His human hand threading into the hair that hung on the left side of her face, the golden tresses tangling into his fingers. Her own eyes fluttered closed as she returned the pressure that he had initiated onto her lips. Lily's arms slid around the man’s neck as she took a hesitant step forward, closing the small gap that kept them apart.

And after what Lily believed to be hours, the two broke away, lungs gasping for air. Lily's face exploded into a fit of red as she stared into the same eyes that always seemed to make her feel like she had a place in the world. Even if she had only seen or even been around him a handful of times, Bucky Barnes made Lily feel like she was the most special girl in the world, just by maintaining (or attempting) eye contact with her through those steel-blue eyes of his. The same eyes that used to be hidden by a mask and glasses because it was too dangerous for anyone to see his face. The same eyes that had seen the horrors of the world. The ones that watched men and women die at his hands.

"Your room is on the left when you go upstairs."

And with that, Lily darted out of his grip and up the wooden stairs with her heart pounding in her chest so loud she wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it. It played a dangerous rhythm in her ears as she shut her own bedroom door and fell back onto the plush pillows and blankets that laid decoratively on her bed. Lily's calloused hands slapped her forehead before sliding down to cover her entire face. The moment replayed in her head 1000 times over.

He kissed her. And she liked it.

[tinkerd]

Interview with Anne Both & David Litchfield first published on www.readingzone.com

A SHELTER FOR SADNESS TEMPLAR PUBLISHING JANUARY 2021

A SHELTER FOR SADNESS is a profound and moving picture book about how a young boy manages his feelings of sadness, not by ignoring them but in giving his sadness the space, care and thought that it needs. We asked author ANNE BOOTH to tell us what inspired the picture book, and illustrator DAVID LITCHFIELD about how he approached the illustrations: Q: What for you are the key ingredients for a great picture book? ANNE: For me, the words have to leave room for the pictures, the pictures have to capture the feeling of the words and extend the story, and both the words and the pictures have to be the best they can be for the demands of that book - be it a funny or a sad book or any other type. DAVID: Oof! that is a BIG question. I'm still trying to work that one out if I'm honest. For me what I personally love about picture books is that you can be transported to the furthest part of someone's imagination but still recognise yourself, and the world, in its pages. It's escapism but also empathy. It's crazy looking animals and creatures but they are experiencing some of the most human emotions of all. There are so many different ingredients that go into these books. But for me I think the ultimate goal is to tell a story that connects with children in the most imaginative way possible. Q: Can you tell us what you wanted to achieve in this book, about how we deal with sadness? ANNE: I hoped it would be good for both children and adults, and that it would help them cope with the type of sadness which stays with us and has to be coped with alongside everyday life. I wanted children to be told that they can build their sadness a shelter as early as possible, as I think that telling children to be 'resilient' (which is a good thing in itself) can sometimes be abusive - it can sometimes really be just saying 'don't tell us you are sad, even though as adults we are doing things which make you sad'. I think children have lots of things to be sad about - big and little things - and learning to build a shelter for their sadness can, paradoxically, help them have permission and space to be happy. DAVID: My hope for the book was to get children - and adults - to talk more about their emotions and how they are feeling. Don't just bundle them up inside. It's important to recognise how you are feeling, recognise that it's there and it exists. And talk it through with someone. A parent or a teacher, or just someone that you trust. The worst thing we can do as human beings is pretend that these feelings are not real and that we should just get over it. Q: Was there one thing that helped inspire the text? ANNE: Yes. I went to a talk at my church, and the speaker quoted this passage from Etty Hillesum; 'Give your sorrow all the space and shelter in yourself that is its due, for if everyone bears grief honestly and courageously, the sorrow that now fills the world will abate. But if you do instead reserve most of the space inside you for hatred and thoughts of revenge - from which new sorrows will be born for others - then sorrow will never cease in this world. And if you have given sorrow the space it demands, then you may truly say: life is beautiful and so rich.' (Esther 'Etty' Hillesum (15 Jan 1914 - 30 Nov 1943) I wrote our picture book text in response to Etty Hillesum's words, so I was trying to expand on her idea that we need to give shelter to our sorrow / sadness, as I thought she had such a wise and beautiful vision, which was, amazingly, born out of her immense suffering as a Dutch Jewish woman under the Nazis, and someone who would actually die in the Holocaust. It was written as my creative response to her words, so writing it actually helped me to think and pray about my own sadness, and I felt it would be a good picture book, to help people cope with sadness that just can't be fixed, but which we need not to overwhelm us or turn us to hate or bitterness. I loved the idea that if we give shelter to our sadness we can truly say that 'life is beautiful and so rich'. Q: Was it a difficult text to write, as it is so pared back? ANNE: I think that because it came after the talk, and hearing Etty Hillesum's beautiful words, and after meditating on, and praying in response, to them, I didn't actually want to use many words. I wasn't paring back anything as such, I was just trying to find my best response to her words, and the writing of it came all at once, but I think the writing wouldn't have come that way if I hadn't already experienced and thought a lot about sadness for years, and hadn't deeply connected with Etty Hillesum's words. Q: Why did you decide the main character would be a boy? ANNE: As I was writing from my own point of view, and in response to Etty Hillesum, I suppose I thought the narrator might be a girl, but I was open to any interpretation. I'm not sure if it was the publisher or David who decided the main character would be a boy, but I am very happy with that. I hope it speaks to boys and girls, men and women, and I think that there is actually something good about it being a boy, as from a very young age, little boys are told to 'man up' and are put under particular pressure not to cry or express sadness - all part of toxic masculinity - so hopefully this will play a part in countering that and telling boys and girls that there is nothing to be ashamed about being sad. DAVID: I'm not sure how this was decided. For some reason I just instinctively drew a boy when I was sketching the book out. I think that's a case of me very much seeing myself in the character as I was making the book. Perhaps an argument can be made that some boys need more help in facing their emotions than girls. But to be honest, I think I just instinctively recognised myself in that character and drew him as a boy. Q: David, what drew you to this text, why did you want to illustrate it? DAVID: As soon as I read Anne's manuscript I knew that I 100% wanted to be the illustrator. I received the project over two years ago and I couldn't start straight away due to other project commitments. I was so scared that Templar would not be able to wait for me. But I was so happy and relieved that they decided to wait until I had finished the other books I was working on. The text just really connected with me and it stirred up some very raw emotions in me. I also recognised that it would be unlike any book I had ever drawn before and the challenge of creating it was something that I really wanted to take on. Q: How did you decide how to depict Sadness? DAVID: There have been a few really fantastic books recently that depict sadness and other emotions as an actual character. Some of my favourites are 'When sadness Comes To Call' by Eva Eland, 'Me and My Fear' by Francesca Senna, and 'Ruby's Worry' by Tom Percival. All of these handle these sensitive subjects so beautifully and visualise what an emotion could look like in the real world. I see our book very much as a continuation of these series of books and the themes they follow. They were definitely a big influence on me when I was drawing the book. In terms of the look of our Sadness, I came up with a number of ideas in my sketchbook. One was a very ghostly, scary looking thing. The other was a teardrop and one was a cloud. But then I just thought about what a typical six or seven year old might draw if I asked them to visualise their sadness. All these confusing and conflicting emotions might come together and it felt like a really messy, scruffy scribble would fit the bill perfectly. Also, I remember trying to articulate how I felt when I was young and the words just wouldn't come out. So drawing a confusing, mess of emotions just felt right. It's also a really great character to draw. you really do feel like you are getting some emotions out of your system and onto the paper when you draw Sadness. Q: David, Can you tell us how you create your images and that special luminosity in your pages? DAVID: Everything starts in my sketchbook and I will plan the whole book out with lots of scruffy sketches. But once I start making the final artwork I usually begin by making lots of very messy watercolour washes, letting the different colours naturally mix into each other. I will also take photos of other textures such as the bark of a tree, or concrete or the sky. I will then scan all of this into my computer and experiment with overlaying each of them together until I find a look and feel that I like. These will then generally take the form of a background for a spread. The characters and buildings I will usually draw out in my sketchbook and then scan these into my computer also. Using Photoshop I will position these over the backgrounds and add other textures over them and just see what works. Basically, its a lot of experimenting and seeing what works with all these different types of media and textures. The luminosity is just an extension of what my art teachers have always taught me about shade and light. But I do like to play around with light and the atmosphere that can bring to an image. I think I really appreciated the drama of light from watching too many Steven Spielberg films growing up. Q: Do you have a favourite spread? ANNE: I love them all! I think the last page is so, so beautiful and gives me hope, but that is because of all the pages that came before, so I couldn't choose! I think David has done an amazing job - the book is so beautiful. DAVID: I like a lot of them. I love the penultimate page where the boy and sadness are walking through the blooming garden. I like the spread early on where Sadness is going through all of the different ways it is feeling and all the different actions it is taking. But I think my favourite image is the simple one of Sadness and the boy sitting together on the log. They are not saying or doing anything, they are just together and there for each other. That's one of my favourite illustrations I have ever drawn in fact. I love it. Q: Will you be creating any more picture books about emotions? What are you working on now? ANNE: I would love to write more picture books about emotions. I have an idea I am trying to find words for - it isn't coming as easily as A Shelter for Sadness but I hope it can work. I also have a little picture book story I am working on, and I am revising and rewriting a middle grade novel, and am waiting to be given edits for an adult novel and should be starting a second adult novel, so I have lots to be getting on with! DAVID: I hope so. I think I will always try and convey emotion in my books and hope that the reader can recognise their own emotions in these stories. Q: Where is your favourite place to work? ANNE: I work in bed (where I am typing this) and in a little writing hut my husband built me in our garden. I also write sitting on the sofa or at the table. When the pandemic is over, I am so looking forward to working in a coffee shop again! I do find it very helpful, when I have lots of work to do, to go away for a few days, to somewhere like Gladstone's Library in Wales, or beautiful retreats in England or France or Ireland I have been to. DAVID: My favourite place to work doesn't actually exist yet. I would love to create art in a cabin in the woods, surrounded by nature. Unfortunately I haven't found that place yet, but I have hope that I will one day soon. At the minute, due to lockdown, I'm drawing my books in the corner of my bedroom, which is not ideal as I'm quite messy and it's quite a small space. It can get a bit frustrating. But, every once in a while I can pretend that I'm in that cabin in the woods and everything feels right again. Q: Where are you most likely to be found when you're not at your desk? ANNE: Maybe out with my husband, walking our dog, or reading in bed, or sitting watching something lovely - I really appreciate good TV and films and I love watching them with other people. I love chatting with family and friends and visiting them. For a post-pandemic answer, I want to leave my desk and travel to see friends and family. DAVID: Mainly riding my bike with my two sons, or walking our dog Maggie, or listening to music very loudly on my headphones. Thank you Anne and David for joining us on ReadingZone!

See original post here: https://readingzone.com/index.php?zone=sz&page=interview&authorid=623a7c5192eb0909e0d251c44bae33c1

[theaspiringwanderess]

The West Coast Trail; A Vancouver Island Adventure Of A Lifetime

Packing: Food/Clothes/Essentials | Booking: Reservations/Transport | Research | Facts | My Story | Start | Days 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 | Chez Moniques | Nitinaht Crab Shack

The West Coast Trail is one of the most, if not the most, iconic Canadian west coast adventure a hiker could ask for. It is a 75km test of both physical and mental endurance in one of the most stunning environmental settings you have ever seen. Not everyone that sets out for this great journey completes it, but those that do have a tale to tell for a lifetime and a forever bond with those they meet along the way.

Having completed this epic trail twice now, my approach is to blend a little bit of old and new into a (hopefully) wondrous tail that offers context, wisdom and insight to the journey, while describing the magical things you will experience and the challenges you will face. I’ve also prepared additional posts for your reading pleasure on Packing: Food/Clothes/Essentials and Booking: Reservations/Transport. So please, grab a hot cup of tea, throw on those comfy pjs and sit back and enjoy the read. 

Handy References and Information Material

Every great hike starts with research, especially this one! If you haven't heard of it yet, look up the famed book Blisters and Bliss: A Trekker's Guide to the West Coast Trail by David Foster and Wayne Aitken. This awesomely 80′s comic styled guide adds a little light-hearted humour to a highly detailed account of the WCT which is revised roughly every couple years. It offers both trekking options (north to south AND south to north!) and gives you all the step by step nitty gritty deets in between including history, objects of interest, geological features and safety tips! I suggest taking it with you and read about the section ahead each night. Also, opt to keep it in a safe pack pocket, don’t put it in a plastic bag (I did this my first time and sadly lost my copy to the inescapable moisture and mold).

Check out the West Coast Trail Facebook Page! This page is not manned by Parks Canada. However, it is a great place to meet other hikers, find someone looking to ride share, ask questions and for advice, learn about recent developments and important information (washed out bridges, danger sections, wildlife sightings or concerns... even hear about annoyed hikers picking up others garbage...not kidding lol).

Oh! And there is also a Women’s West Coast Trail Page!

Parks Canada Website. Duh, right?! But you may not realize that Parks Canada has some handy info regarding what to pack (and what not to!), emergency items, wildlife warnings, necessary fees, maps, tide tables, tips and more to make your hike a happy one. Check out the Planning For WCT page here.

You'll also find online a plethora of websites, blogs and articles dedicated to WCT info, tips, advice, and more. I encourage you to read a few personal accounts to get a real life feel of what others experience. Here are some of my favourites (don’t let the names scare you!), plus a very cool and scholarly article from UofBC on the effects of colonial-style tourism in the area and on the local indigenous tribes written in 2020. Fascinating read.

Hike The WCT (website)

Walking the wild coast : territory, belonging, and tourism on the West Coast Trail (UofBC Open Collection)

Lost On The West Coast Trail

How Not To Die On The West Coast Trail

The Facts

The West Coast Trail is 75 km long. That's on the map and, best as I can figure, relatively "as the crow flies". It does not account for the extra steps, the ladders, the climbing, the crawling, the descending, etc, you get the picture. Both times I've gone my fitbit has read almost double or more the distance in 'real ground covered'. For example, when they say its 5km from the Gordon River Trail Head to Thrasher Cove, my fitbit in both cases recorded over 12 km when all was said and done. When they tell you it takes on average 5-6 hours to do that stretch, and you're only covering 1km or less an hour, this is why. You will chuckle in the orientation, as many have, and think, "ya, if you're a SNAIL!", but you will soon realize it’s about the terrain and that you're essentially doing double or more the physical effort to cross it. The same is true for nearly all the trail, even the "easy parts".

Safety First - the majority of accidents and injuries occur in the first 13 kms on the south side of the trail, from Gordon River at km 75, to Camper Bay at km 62. The trail accommodates just over 7500 people a year. Of that, Parks Canada evacuates roughly 80-100 injured persons annually and Nitinaht villagers have claimed to ferry out 100-200 additional hikers off the trail as well, due to injury, misery, etc. It won’t be a bear or cougar that takes you out, it’ll be the wilderness itself. A fall from a wet log or slimy stone is the most common culprit, and it may not even be the fall itself, but what you land on. Sharp rocks, jabbing sticks, etc all cause serious injury. And it always happens when you're TIRED. Don't push yourself. Take a break, have a snack, don't go farther in a day than your body can handle. Better to be a day late than waiting 24 hrs in the bush with no morphine and a broken leg for a boat ride that surely will be agonizing. Just sayin' here...

The WCT historically was maintained for shipwrecked mariners. Many have lost their lives along this trail. I don’t understand how it doesn’t have its own ghost story yet! It has an amazing history with lots of ship wreckage to see along the way if you time the tides right.

Lastly, the temperate rainforest that engulfs the WCT is not only stunning but globally very rare, encompassing less than 1% of ecosystems across the earth. Here you will see plants, trees and animals that may not exist anywhere else on our planet. The Sitka Spruce for example is among not only the tallest trees in the world, but also the oldest, some 700-1000 years old. This means they have seen North America as it was before European Settlers touched it. They are revered by many and highly sought after by loggers, which often leads to conflicts. Many extremely unique animals also reside in the WCT, like the islands' black bears which are actually larger than mainland black bears with massive skulls and only one unique colour phase. The island is also home to cougars, Victoria's famous mini-deer and sea-wolves, the only wolves in the world that have adapted to life on a coastline, they call the Pacific Coast home. With a completely unique diet of seafood they are genetically different from mainland wolves and have also been known to swim in the ocean for many kilometers.

My West Coast Trail Story

Now, before we begin, I'll preface this by saying, don't mistake me for a pro; I am simply someone who has made it off the WCT twice [relatively] safely and lived to share my tale. If you are looking for expert advice I'd say check out the Parks Canada website or the Blisters and Bliss book. But if you are looking for a heartwarming and informative, real life account of the experience, you've come to a great place.

I am now amongst a lucky few that have had the enormous privilege to have hiked the West Coast Trail not only once, but twice in my lifetime thus far. I say thus far because this trail has such a special place in my heart I expect at some point I will likely attempt it again. It changed my life and has had an everlasting impact on the lives of those around me. I learned a lot about myself and even more about those closest to me. What I am capable of, the importance of preparation and planning, the bonds you create with people you meet along the way and the love of those that support you going and take care of things while you're gone. I simply couldn’t have done this without the support of my amazing husband, friends, parents and sister and my wonderful sister in law whom we stayed with this time. But most importantly I missed the encouragement and support of my mother-in-law who lived on the island and sadly has passed since my first trip. She and her friends played such an instrumental role in my first journey with my sister, buying us foods, housing us, driving us, and just overall being so excited to see us off, I truly missed her this time but I know she was there with me in spirit.

In this way the West Coast Trail is a life-shaping experience like no other. You will learn much about yourself, be in awe and hopefully inspired by the incredible natural world around you and you will meet fellow Canadians and global trotters and, in turn, become a part of their WCT story. Let me be amongst the first to congratulate you on this epic endeavor and wish you the happiest, and safest, of journeys and hopefully I can send you off a bit more well prepared for the adventure.

First Timers VS Second Timers

My experience as a first time WCT hiker was extremely different from my second expedition in every way possible.

The first time I hiked the WCT I went with my youngest sister Jenna. We had both hiked and camped before but this was a new experience and everything was raw, a bit scary, amazing and beautiful all at once. I think it just hit us both like a ton of bricks when we landed at the base of that first ladder across the Gordon River. Although Sharon had talked to me for months, mentally preparing me for the hike, when Jenna and I both looked up at the rest of our start group scaling that first beast, looming up from the small beach landing, I know we both had the exact same thought, like, "oh shit, this is for real...".

Why the WCT? Sharon, my good friend and co-worker, had previously attempted it before turning me onto it. Due to an unfortunate incident with her hiking companion, they had to turn in the towel. She has since rocked it twice more and was an absolute wealth of information, support and the wisdom that only an experienced female hiker, mom and athlete can be. Much of what I am sharing with you today began with her. She continues to inspire me every day with her ferocity and determination and boundless want for adventure.

At the time of my first hike in 2016, my mother-in-law lived on Vancouver Island and she and her best friend Jill had kindly arranged for us to stay at another friend's cottage just outside Port Alberni. The friend and her husband fed us well and the beauty of the setting was unimaginable. But the anticipation of what lay ahead weighed heavily on both Jenna and I and neither of us barely slept a wink. The next morning we had our last hot shower and flush toilet experience for the next 7 days and the 4 of us set out for the Gordon River Trail Head.

We piled into Jill’s car the following morning. The ride was long, on gravel switch back logging roads, but the supportive company made the nervous anticipation bearable. I feel like I did not appreciate the ride as much as I should have at the time, but a few 5 am bus rides (and much experience) later, I certainly cherish the thought my mother-in-law and Jill had put into making the beginning special for us both.

Since then, I've booked my island hike transports with the West Coast Trail Express bus. The folks there are super helpful and the experience has always been a good one. In 2018, a WCT facebook group was created which has made connecting with others looking for ride shares and doing the trail much easier AND more informative! You can read about this page and other research options at the top of this post if you missed them ;)

When 2016 saw Jenna and I land at Gordon River's Information Station, I was greeted with an amazing surprise... Sharon and Jackie (another friend) had pre-purchased for me a WCT t-shirt. I cried, there were no words. When 2021 saw Krista and I land at Gordon River's Information Station, I was greeted with a sense of the familiarity of the adventure and vicariously enjoyed the wonder of someone else now experiencing the trail for the first time... READY?!.. and INHALE... can you smell it..? the Adventure?! It's like greeting an old friend again, for the first time.

It's Like Those Choose Your Own Adventure Books, Where You Pick Your Ending...

Remember those..? Maybe..? When Starting the WCT, you can plan to start at either entry point, Gordon River to the south or Pacheena Bay to the north, or now even halfway at Nitinaht. There are advantages to all, so it just depends what is most appealing to you. Most people do the trail within a 6-8 day time frame. This gives a good balance of time vs pack weight. I always try to plan for an extra emergency day, just in case. Things happen here... Long stays requires more provisions and a heavier pack. Shorter stays (in my personal opinion) are extremely challenging, unless you have done the trail before, are very skilled in lightweight packing and are an expert hiker. I still wouldn't recommend it. Plus, if you're going that fast, you're rushing by so much, what's the point? If you've paid and taken the time to be here, enjoy it! That being said, when Jenna and I did the trail we were treated to watching marathoner and athlete Jen Segger run it in one day. ONE DAY. She currently holds the women's record for WCT completion at 13 hrs 44mins (as posted here on her page under 2016). Of course she had no pack and support runners with her and a camera crew. But as she ran by us I think both our jaws dropped. It was like watching Super Woman run by you and you were just lucky if her sweat spayed you as she passed by. 

When you start out, keep in mind your pack is at it's heaviest. Starting at Pacheena Bay entry point means you'll be hiking the easiest parts of the trail first. You'll make excellent time here and cover the most distance over the shortest number of days. Although all areas of the trail offer exquisite and unique beauty, in my opinion the north end is the most magical. Maybe because by the time I reach it Im half delirious and most certainly exhausted so the easier hike is a much welcome break. Both times I've hiked the WCT I have opted to start at the southern trail head point known as Gordon River.

Starting at Gordon River means that you get through the most difficult terrain right at the beginning, when you're freshest, well rested and eager to set out. You also have the added benefit of anticipating the terrain getting easier (rather than harder). To me, this is the most logical approach and why I prefer this route and honestly, there is just something that seems slightly disillusioning about expecting something to get harder along the way. When Jenna and I first made it up that initial ladder we came across several groups finishing their hike. One in particular stuck out, a group of three female friends. We passed the first two who were happy and chatting and weirdly gave us a (mild) warning to disregard their companion, who was somewhere behind them. Ok... sure, we thought. Then along came the third girl... muttering, swearing under her breath, we contemplated what she might do to her companions if she caught up to them and we joked about how that likely was the end of that friendship. 2016 was a much busier year, pre-covid and all, and we met so many more people, Canadians, Germans, Chinese and Auzzies! 

2021 though is the year of the Canadians! If you happen to head out on the WCT this year, although you will still experience a wide range of people (Canada is an extraordinarily diverse nation!), rest assured most currently reside within Canada. Hello Homies! It was, however, a much more muted WCT experience than my past one. Although the Parks staff assured me they have had lots of people come through (I asked!), and the online bookings are sold out, it seemed so much quieter day to day. At the time Krista and I arrived, Parks staff were still only doing outdoor basic debriefing, prior to which we were expected to watch an online information video covering the basics. This was in stark contrast to the very in depth orientation Jenna and I had to attend back in 2016. 

Fellow Canadians, Tsk Tsk...

The biggest difference I noticed that could be as a result of the minimized debrief is the amount of garbage. There is NO garbage removal on the trail. Parks staff DO NOT haul garbage out (its a remote wilderness, do you really expect garbage men??). The WCT is accessible by foot (as in, you hike in... for 75 km) OR by boat, the latter being weather and safety dependant in extreme occasions (ie emergency evacuation). At each campsite we stayed, hikers THIS year (the trail was closed 2020) have left copious amounts of garbage. It’s in the bear bins, on the trail, the beach, in the outhouses... it’s EVERYWHERE. The worst by far was Camper Bay with stinking tuna cans and bags in every bear bin and Cribbs Creek, where the garbage pile extended to a massive bottle collection BEHIND the bear bin.

Why do sites have bear bins in the first place? Because human food and waste smells amazing to BEARS! So we lock it away to keep it, and us, safe. This does not mean a bear can’t smell it, it just means they can’t access it. Now, what happens when food rots and gets stinkier...? Of course it's more enticing. This draws bears, and other animals, to the campsite, which puts your safety, and the safety of each camper, at risk. I have to give Krista major kuudos here because that girl dug in deep, cleaned someone else's mess at each site we stopped at and even hauled out other people's stinky gross trash. Please give her a round of applause for thinking about you because she deserves it. And as Canadians, seriously, we can do better right??

Da' Debrief

Apologies, now that’s out, let's get on. During our debrief we learned some important key points.

2021 has seen unprecedented amounts of animal sightings and encounters. Primarily bear and cougar. There has also been more daytime sightings of wolves, which is considered extremely rare. With the trail closed in 2020, lack of human presence has caused a larger wildlife presence. Be aware, practice safety, travel in groups. Groups are also being asked to accommodate single hikers to reduce risk.

There is a lot of maintenance to be done that wasn't able to be accomplished in 2020 due to the pandemic. Be prepared for washed out boardwalks, bridges and rotten boards. There is also fewer Parks staff to help with this upkeep. Luckily, local members of indigenous tribes, called the Trail Guardians, historically help in a huge way with this and you may even run into them on the trail! We saw their team arrive in their new boat leaving Walbran and at Pacheena we spoke to a Parks staff who's uncle is on the team. It's a small world here.

Following the debrief, the Parks staff escort you to the Gordon River ferry. The fellow here takes you across and plops you down on the small sandy beach, gathers up any hikers waiting for a ride back and heads off on his way. And there you are, left to stare at a huge ladder, really, the first of many.

up, Up, UP You Go!

In 2016 Jenna and I patiently waited at the end of the line to be the last two up the ladder and I tackled the climb with my 50lb pack in tow (phew!). In 2021 Krista and I were the only two standing on the beach, me revelling in my 'barely there' 38lb pack. The trail was our oyster!

The trek from Gordon River to Thrasher Cove is the most challenging and physically demanding on the trail. We left on the 11:30 ferry and finally walked into Thrashers Cove at 5pm - Yes, it DOES take that long. You actually don't see many ladders, a few here and there, but best believe you are still climbing! You scramble up rock faces, you squeeze past trees, you choose your footing extremely carefully and all the while up, up, UP you GO! Even over rocks and hard ground the trail is fairly well worn and easy to follow... most of the time. A short while in you come to the first bridge over the first creek. I have stopped here both times to fill up water bottles, but beware, the scramble back up is more difficult than it looks this year due to the fallen trees. Mountain Goat level scuttling expertise is advised! Much further along, not far from Thrashers, you'll eventually comes across the famed Donkey Engine! This year you will find it to be directly in your path, where as in 2016 I’m quite sure we looked down on it somehow from a higher elevation. Either way, it’s epic and makes for an amazing photo op! To think that thing was hauled by beast and hand up that hill still blows my mind.

Along the way we met a very nice gentleman named Wilson who had intended to hike the WCT with his son. Unfortunately, due to a graduation re-scheduling mishap his son was unable to come, but Wilson decided to soldier on. He was incredibly happy, thoughtful and polite and asked if we minded if he tagged along as we hiked. He regaled us with tails of his trails, immigration to Canada, his wife and family and much more; he was a fascinating fellow! With the wildlife warnings this year, Parks staff request that no one hike alone, if you can, allow a solo hiker to tag along so everyone can stay safe. We graciously obliged and enjoyed his company and great conversation for a couple more days until we parted ways at Nitinaht comfort camping.

Thrasher's Cove is an amazing, but small, campsite. I recall vividly in 2016 the trail down to the beach being extremely treacherous, with steep and slippery embankments and so many ladders! By comparison our 2021 descent seemed like a cake-walk. Here I was, boasting to Krista the challenge that lay before her, but when we got there it was literally a quick hop and skip down. She found anything I said after that to be hard to believe and was convinced I was totally embellishing. It really made me realize how MUCH the trail changes and what dynamic metamorphosis must have occurred in 6 years! I also realized how hard Trail Guardians and Parks staff must work to maintain all this constantly worn out infrastructure. It must a BEAST. Be warned, if you arrive to Thrashers too late in the day it will be tough finding a spot. If this happens to you, check out the south side of the beach, sometimes there's a bit more space there. Ironically, I have set up my tent in the exact same spot both times, right in front of the tiny triangle cave around the rock wall on the south side of the beach. I have claimed this spot now.

Knock, Knock, It's The Ocean!

This is also where knowing how to read your tide tables is extremely important. While camping on the beach you must pitch your tent above the high tide line. The high tide line is where you can see the sand was last wet on the beach. It's not where the water is when you arrive. Look for the wet point on the sand and keep your tent a few good feet above that. When Jenna and I first arrived at Thrashers, I was confident in my tide table reading skills; being from Alberta, I took the time to learn how to read them in advance. But, during the orientation the Park staff had warned our group that our first night was due to be the highest high tide of the year - intimidating to a couple prairie girls! And, which is also a thing if you read up on the moon cycle! (Actually there is a lot of news this year on the effects of the moon's impending orbital wobble on tides, its a fascinating read if you're interested!). So, naturally a bit cautious and overly leery of the horror stories of campers waking up to soaked tents in the middle of the night, my poor sister was worried sick. Exhausted but too afraid to sleep, I promised her I'd stay up till high tide to make sure we were safe. She soon passed out and I settled in reading my book. But the surf was loud and near, a thundering, crashing rukus with each wave and about 2 hours in my sister jolted straight up in her sleeping bag, scaring the ba-geezus outta me crying out 'IS IT HERE?! IS THE OCEAN HERE YET?! ", big-eyed I just stared, then broke out laughing; I settled her back down, reassured her we were safe, now passed the time of concern, and wiggled down into my own sack to drift off. It's still an inside joke to this day and once in a while we chuckle to each other about the time the ocean came knocking.

2021 brought me its own surprise when at 4am I awoke to an unusual scratching noise against our tent next to my head. We had wrapped our rain covers around our [empty] backpacks and snugged them up against the tent to stay dry and save space. Apparently the local otter family found them fascinating and decided to check them out on their morning stroll. An alarm clock certainly fit for the WCT. 

It's A Beach Walk, Not A Cake Walk

Leaving Thrasher's Cove you have two options! You can take the beach route if you time the tides carefully OR you can take the inland route. In 2016 Jenna and I sojourned the inland route. Although the inland hike was pretty, if I'd found the trek down to Thrashers tough, the trek back up would've been classed insane. Sharon’s favourite saying is, what goes down must go up. In 2021 Krista and I timed the tide, leaving at 7:30am, to take the beach route. Although we'd planned to avoid what turned out to not be a bad climb, I'd really wanted to see the famous sea caves! The sea caves themselves were nothing short of AMAZING. There is just no other word. I was so in awe that in my mind they seem to take up almost 3 days of our trip, not just half an hour on the second day.

Although we'd planned to aim for Cullite Creek Campground day 2, we hit a major snag. As we traipsed along, well after the sea caves, we came to a rocky sea shelf that rose high out of the water. As you look up, you might catch a glimpse of some buoys, which commonly mark the beach access to the trail and campgrounds. Thinking this was our access back onto the trail, as you must go inland from here to Campers, we headed up along the higher shelf. We passed an unusual 'Danger' sign. We looked around, but could not identify anything that seemed out of the ordinary for where we were. We kept on. We came to a similar sign on the rock, but again, failed to see what was obviously dangerous. Wasps? Bear den? Surge Channel? There was no fallen bridge, no down ladder. Everything seemed ok. We reached the buoys, and Krista lifted her leg to step over a small trickle of a water... That's when it happened.

Danger on the Trail...

Before she could even complete her step, both feet flew out from beneath her and her whole body, pack and all, smashed onto the rock shelf. She began rocketing like a she was on a pro waterslide down the embankment towards a 9 foot drop into the water pool below. I had the wherewithal to shout out 'grab a rock!', and in the 3 seconds that seemed like 3 hours, I had the presence of mind to ponder how I might explain this to her mother back at home and 4 year old son if things went sideways... but with a 38lb pack on myself and being a few feet behind, there was no way I could move fast enough to do anything but yell.

Luckily, mid-slide, she managed to grab a handhold just long enough to stop and get some footing. Crisis averted, but the damage was done. Wearing shorts, she was sporting some nasty road rash on her cheek and arm, but most of the damage was buffered by the hoodie she'd had tied around her waist. She was bruised, but she was lucky.

Feeling pretty roughed up, we opted to stay at Camper Bay instead and rolled in about 1pm where we washed and treated her ailing buttocks and gave her some much needed pain meds. Along came a few more groups and we felt a bit less sheepish learning 2 of them had also had the exact same experience. Pride slightly less wounded, we made some new friends for the chatter and laid back and chilled for the afternoon. On your parks provided trail map, you will see a small note in red pointing to BA 'B' (beach access B) that warns about a dangerous slope just past the surge channels after Owen Point. It's not kidding.

If you stay at Camper Bay, it's a lovely and large campsite with lots of room for everyone. However, it has a habit of getting very windy, like all the time, and the only time it's not is when the sun goes down. If you're early enough, grab one of the sheltered tent spots in the woods/taller grass along the creek side. It also has a rep for early morning rain and fog. Something about the geography here seems to create its own micro-environment. If you walk out along the beach at low tide and cross the creek to the north, you'll see some neat tidal pools and caves in the rock wall. In the one with the small pool of water you might see a single lonely fish with the pool all to himself. I hope one day the tide washes him in friend.

Reminiscing...

Ironically, day 2 in 2016 was also the day I had a mishap of my own. Tired and worn down, toddling  after Jenna across a log bridge the width of my car, I misstepped. My feet were somehow gone and in a second I found myself sitting on my ass, straddling the log instead of walking on it. I peered down into the 6 foot drop below. Completely in disbelief I suddenly realized Jenna was yelling at me "Are you OK?!" ... Yes! I was! I was ok. Nothing was broken, hurt or otherwise. But it was a wake up call. If you are tired, take a break, don't push on or try to keep up with someone faster. Only hike as fast as your slowest hiker and be patient. Take a breath and remember, the goal is no one dies out here... hopefully.

Gone Are The Days Of Legendary Mud And Tilting Ladders That Make You Poop ... Just A Little

The few days that followed are a bit of a blur. There's so much to see and so little blog space to include it all! We left Campers Bay on a foggy, rain mist morning at about 10am. Since we had to take the inland trail there was no worry about racing the tide on this stretch. We chatted with the couple we met the night before (Mat and Lauren from Calgary!). Everyone was a bit tired that morning.

Although we saw some mud, with a historic heat wave just prior to our trip in 2021, the legendary mud pits that the WCT has typically been known for were non-existent. In 2016 Jenna and I spent most of our inland trail time figuring out how to cross mud-holes, watching where each other stepped and trying not to fall in up to our armpits (I kid you not). This time, there was no mud and if you disagree with me, go again after it rains. I dare you.

This is also the section where we saw the most ladders, most notably through Cullite Creek, which was sadly such a trickle there was no need for the cable car, we just rock hopped across (with ease). We saw some really cool art done along the trail by the Guardians in the new bridge and log cuttings, some even signed their names! Have you tried making a curve with a chainsaw? I was impressed.

This section also has a neat and unique stretch of boardwalk that goes through a fragile wetland. Sections of the boardwalk were out, it looks easy, don't let it fool you!

A brand-spank'in new suspension bridge calls Logan Creek home! In 2016 Jenna and I had to climb a harrowing series of crazy, half-tilted ladders to get to the bridge. I recall my favourite as being the third ladder in a tower, that was so amazingly on a 10 degree angle sideways, and scaling it with my 50lb backpack. It was all I could do not to roll off and meet a perilous end at the bottom of the gully. Today the beautiful new bridge almost disappointed with the ease it took to cross it. NO more ladder climbing, you just walk up the stairs and off you go!

We arrived in Walbran Campsite at 5:30, the creek is perfect for swimming if it’s warm enough. Several groups had a run-in here with a couple breaking the fire ban policy. People on the WCT take this seriously, keep in mind if you start a forest fire here, there’s no where to go and it puts the homes of indigenous peoples at severe risk too. We all simmered, had a tasty meal, chatted with our travel companions, explored the beach a bit and turned in for the night, thoroughly exhausted.

We spent the next two days going from Walbran Campsite to Cribbs and then to Tsuisiat Falls. Due to a problematic and confrontational cougar in 2021 there is no camping permitted along the trail between kilometer 34 to 38. So, naturally, your last stop prior to Nitinaht Narrows is Cribbs Creek.

The Stretch from Walbran to Cribbs is basically all beach walk. The beach is lovely, but don’t let 'beach walk' fool you. It’s just as challenging to walk in sand as it is through forest... and you thought it was going to be easier, didn’t you?! It's like walking through snow without snowshoes and being 30lbs heavier...what a Canadian thought. But! Fear Not! along this stretch is also the famed Chez Moniques burger stop and the Carmanah Lighthouse! The lighthouses are closed to the public this year due to covid, but it’s still a sight to behold as it beams brightly through the fog.

The Legend That Is Chez Moniques

In 2016 Jenna and I made a critical, but common, food planning error. We packed meals based on what we felt was healthy and would give us energy, without accounting for taste. In other words, we packed a lot of dry lentil-based meals that tasted awful and took forever to cook and I couldn't have forced down my throat if you had paid me. I love beans, but dried lentils on the trail... yech! You can read more about our cautionary tale in my food section, and if you're uncertain about foods to pack, it’s worth the read!

So, sufficed to say, that year we had the absolute pleasure of experiencing Chez Moniques in it's prime. It was incredible. Here we were, in the middle of nowhere, exhausted, starving (I was anyway lol), and run off our feet. And out of nowhere arose this mirage of a tent with burgers, fancy meals, peach ciders and more! My god it was intense. We kicked off our boots, stuffed our faces, chatted with Monique, the legend herself, and I protectively cradled the best Okanagan Cider that had ever touched my lips while we waited for the tide to recede. It was magical.

Sadly, between 2017-2018 both Monique and her husband tragically passed away. It was a blow felt around the world by all those who had passed through their doors and experienced their generosity. There is a lovely documentary attributed to their memory here. Today, in 2021, following a devastating 2020 with no business, Monique & Peter's grand-daughter, Katrina Knighton is trying to carry on the dream though the restaurant will be renamed as Nytom. We heard lots of chatter and some hikers did actually see her in person, but unfortunately there are some struggles, including keeping up supply levels, which they are walking in for 1.5 hours (!). We missed them this year, as did many hikers, and I was so sad Krista would not experience it. But! They are rumoured to have services most often morning and around 5pm. Katrina is also very active on the WCT Facebook page, so feel free to drop her a line there for more info!

We arrived in Cribbs Creek at about 2:30pm. It was the end of our Day 4 and what a campsite it was. Lovely soft sand under your toes and beautiful beach. There is nothing here for swimming but we had the most amazing sunset view on the rock shelf that night. Although it didn't rain while we were on the trail, this was the first time we'd seen the sun since we left Victoria.

The Magical Beauty Of Nitinaht And  The Crab Shack Of Your Dreams

We left Cribbs Creek about 9am and stuck to mostly inland trail. Other hikers going the opposite way had warned it was very overgrown but we honestly had no problems with it; it was a little underused, but keep in mind they hadn't seen the south side yet. We made excellent time and arrived in Nitinaht Narrows at 1:09pm. The journey is absolutely stunning. There is a new bridge over the creek at Dare Beach and the forest walk is lovely. The bridge over the Cheewhat River offers great views also. You cannot take water from the river itself but after the bridge there is a freshwater stream marked by a wooden sign if you need it and soon you will come across an old Cabin. When you arrive here, turn around and see the new and amazing Ditidaht home across the river. It has changed a bit, likely with the drought, but in 2016 Jenna and I referred to this stretch as "the place that Disney films are based on". Ivy clung all the way up the trees and just as you wrapped your head around that, the trail winds it's way through a silent coniferous forest where you could almost hear a pin drop, followed by a magical wetland lake with flowering lilly pads the size of your head. But none of this compares to Nitinaht Narrows.

As you walk along the trail, just a few short minutes past the lake, the path will turn from boardwalk to dirt and as you round the bend you will suddenly walk, with no warning, right into Nitinaht! It has caught me by surprise each time. We strolled down the walkways to the dock, left our packs safely on the bench and made our way to the Crab Shack. The blue-green waters of Nitinaht Narrows is something to behold. When you peer over the side of the wharf you see schools of small fish so thick you could almost surely touch them. When I dream of paradise, I dream of here.

Nitinaht Narrows was only recently made an 'official' entry and exit point by Parks Canada in 2014, you can read more about it here. But prior to this, older community members witnessed the inception and rise of the WCT as we know it today and watched it grow. Ferrying hikers across the narrows has become a task handed down from generation to generation. Connected to the ocean, it has tides about 10 minutes apart and historically, many years ago, hikers did drown trying to swim across before getting swept out to sea, naively misjudging the calm-looking waters. About 3 kms past the narrows, the Ditidaht band offers comfort camping options to those looking to settle and day hike the trail or in need of a break from the grind. This is marked with a sign and you will see it on the trail. The crab shack itself has also recently built new cabins as well which start from roughly $100/night (houses 4 bodies and you use your own sleeping bag) and goes up to ($200 and $300) where bedding is provided. They also offer tent platforms for a modest $30/night fee.

The Nitinaht Crab Shack is owned and operated by the Edgar family. They are kind, light-hearted, hospitable and will make you the best meal you have ever had. They work extremely hard and have a great sense of humour. A family member told me the previous day they had served a group of 20 lunch all at the same time! Hippie-Doug was their ring leader that day and he manned the ferry, that took us across the narrows to complete our journey, along with a sweet old chocolate lab you will see in many a hikers' photos. If you catch him at a slow moment he might share a joke and and story with you. But don't leave until you have warmed yourself thoroughly by the wood stove, had the best meal this side of Canada and picked up some treats for the road. The ferry finishes for the day at 4:30pm and then Hippie-Doug settles in for a much deserved break, a meal, and maybe a drink, so don't be late!

Tsu-Tsu-Tsusiat!

We left the warming comfort of the Nitinaht stove at about 3pm and headed on our way. We saw our new friend and traveling tag-along Wilson off at the Ditidaht Comfort Camping site and continued on, arriving at Tsusiat Falls by 6:30pm. You can't see the falls from the beach, but if you reach the hole in the wall at Tsusiat Point, you're just minutes away.

In 2016, the first 5 days of our hike Jenna and I had the most amazing weather. On our 5th day, after the crab shack, while the sun beamed a balmy 25+ C, we ditched our packs on a slope of sand with gentler waters between Nitinaht and Tsusiat Point and ran into the ocean up to our knees, jumping the waves and being astonished at their strength. We laid on the beach afterwards and soaked in the sun. When I think of my little sister, I often think of this carefree day and smile. Enjoy the journey as you go, or you’ll miss the best parts.

Tsusiat Falls is a popular campground. When we arrived the beach was packed. According to 2021 Parks regs, you can only stay one night here to minimize environmental impact. The beach was very different from what I remembered, but the falls were ever glorious. We threw on bathing suites and while Krista enjoyed the brief sun, I took a dip in the beckoning water.

The next morning, with Krista not feeling hot, I'd aimed to get up early and walk back to the Hole In The Wall with my Nikon DSLR camera. When we passed by the day before it was high tide and the Hole was under sea water. However, after a delay, Krista decided to come with me. We packed up, left our bags at Tsusiat and strolled back to the hole together, and a better decision it was. I’d watched a group ahead of us pass through an hour ago, but beneath their tracks you could make out a fresh set of cougar prints. Since low tide was at 10am that morning, that means the tracks were very recent and could only have been made since the water receded. Food for thought.

Darling Bears You Might Be Cute, But I Don't Want To Snuggle

The last 2 days on the WCT (or your first two, depending where you start) are the easiest to hike and where you make up the most ground. We'd intended to land at Darling River Campsite (approx km 14), which from Tsusiat (approx km 25) would make it about an 11 km day. Most of our fellow travellers whom we had become familiar with were aiming for Michigan Creek though, which would add 2 km to our 6th day, but save us that on our 7th and final day out. We decided to see what the day held and if we arrived at Darling early we might continue on. WELL.... what the day held was not entirely what we expected.

In 2016 Jenna and I walked the beach hike between Tsocowis Creek and Michigan Creek. It had started to rain the night before and by morning was a light, but steady, downpour. We donned our rain gear but by noon, and halfway through our distance, it was clear that Jenna's rain jacket was not waterproof. Though she had tested it prior to leaving, it turned out not to be up to WCT-level rain. As we continued on poor Jenna got wetter and wetter and by the time we reached Michigan, she was soaked through to the bone. Water pooled in her boots, and she shivered so hard she couldn't help me with the tent. Realizing this could get worse quickly, I popped the tent, got her changed and snugged into her sleeping bag ASAP. Then I worked on adding a tarp. When the shivering stopped we got a warm meal into her and passed our time taking turns winding up our emergency radio and trying to maintain the faint signal from a long forgotten US talk station till darkness fell. It poured the entire next day as well for a total of over 24 hours straight and our photos at the Pacheena lighthouse are in plastic emergency ponchos.

In 2021 Krista and I opted for the inland trail as we'd previously made better time this way. There is lots to see here, another Donkey Engine and a rusty old grader, and I absolutely love the Billy Goat Bridge. The trail threw us for a bit at Tsocowis Creek, there, phantom branch-offs seemed to lead off and abruptly stop. You have to go down the ladders to continue the inland trail portion (OR access the beach). However, just passed Orange Juice Creek, it was quite clear this section of trail was not well used recently... by people anyway. It was eerily dark, overgrown and passed by what looked like long lost abandoned campsites in caves along the rock wall. As we passed by we heard something stir in the dim light, knocking over an old cup, and we nervously quickened our pace. We began to see pile after pile of fresh bear scat, some so fresh that by the time we reached Darling we figured we must be just behind it. Making a lot of noise we made our way to the beach and relief washed over us as we recognized people half a km ahead... our fellow Albertans, Mat and Lauren! But when they stopped suddenly and started to back up we knew something wasn't right.

Just ahead of them on the beach was our bear. And big guy he was! They figured a lone male. They managed to scare him off and once we caught up the 4 of us made our way as a group to Michigan Creek just down the beach where we figured there was relative safety in numbers.

Bitter Sweet Goodbyes

Our last day from Michigan to the Information Station at Pacheena was a super short one. We were the last hikers to leave Michigan at 8am and among the first ones (ironically) to reach the Parks office at 11:01am. The path is very well maintained and an easy hike. You'll also see a lot of day hikers here, many with dogs. Along the way are some cool sights you won't want to miss, so don't be too quick to rush out. The abandoned dirt bike isn't going anywhere fast anymore, but be sure to check out the sea lion rock just passed km 10. You may even hear them from the trail! Just before the sea lions you'll also pass by the Pacheena Lighthouse. Again, due to covid, you cant access the grounds but you can totally snap a quick pic! The area has so much bear activity Parks Staff joke about running 'bear daycare' here so be vigilant. Two wonderfully enthusiastic young ladies we met along the way carried an amazing tune; Im sure they must've charmed away any "would be" encounters.

In 2016 there was no km 1 sign on the trail and in 2021 there was still no km 1 sign lol. Both times I raced past km 2 and then later wished I'd taken a pic with it. You'll want it as proof! We walked the very last km along the beach, where firm sand makes for easy going. There were bear sightings of a mother and cubs here just before we arrived. We missed them, but were lucky enough to get some great foot-print photos. The very last bench you'll see on the trail is emblazoned with the word 'PARKS'. We sat here for an eternal minute and took some photos. As we strolled towards the Information station I couldn't believe it was over again so quickly.

Looking back, even after time number two, it feels more like a dream. The first time I walked off the trail in 2016 I eagerly anticipated a hot shower, was thoroughly disappointed at finding I had no quarters for to pay for one and I spent the 5 hour bus ride home starving and trying to sleep on a roller coaster. Perhaps not such a glorious end, but I realized I had achieved something few people would in their life time and of that I was SO proud of Jenna and myself. We did it.

When I arrived back at work Sharon had the most glorious little bouquet of flowers for me and she glued tiny cut out flags of all the major trail milestones to skewer sticks throughout. It brought tears to my eyes.... she told me this, "for a while, you will think to yourself, I am NEVER going back to that EVER again. And then, slowly, you will forget all the bad parts and the thought will creep in... maybe, perhaps, I might try it again... and you will find yourself looking it up once more". And she was right, I did. And I am so glad I did... I might even do it again.

[anonwriter27]

Trust in Me Ch14

This year has been a difficult one for all of us, I hope 2021 brings you all love and happiness. Happy New Year everyone :) 

Loki had faced many life-threatening situations in his many years as a God. He had fought of hoards of enemies alongside his brother, found himself trapped in the clutches of a menace, he had even been stabbed through the heart. Each time, Loki’s quick wit and sharp mind helped him through it. But now, stood in front of the door to the lab, Loki felt sick with nerves.

 It was time to talk to Tony.

 If Loki was being entirely truthful with himself, he should have approached Stark much sooner. Courting was a very important process on Asgard, especially for a prince; before Loki had even stolen a kiss from Y/N he should have asked for Tony’s permission. Fear had stopped him. He wasn’t exactly the most popular member of the tower when he first arrived. If his first interaction with Y/N was anything to go by, he was sure Tony would have tried to kill him.

 But now, Loki was an avenger. He fought alongside Midgard’s heroes; he had even saved the life of a man he had once enslaved. He was liked too. Peter would high five Loki as he walked past, he and Bucky now had inside jokes, he even had banter with Nat. He believed himself a better person; although he didn’t think himself worthy of Y/N’s affections, he wanted to be.

 The time of year was also a factor in his decision to tell Tony. While he wasn’t well accustomed to Midgardian celebrations, he was aware of New Years Eve; more specifically, the ‘new year’s kiss.’

 For weeks now, Loki and Y/N had relished stolen moments together. Holding hands in the darkened cinema room where no one could see, grazing fingers as they walked past each other in the hallway. Loki even snuck a kiss or two in when he knew everyone’s attention was on the television. As much as he enjoyed the thrill of this tryst, he often longed for more.

 He knew Y/N felt the same way. He would sometimes catch her looking over at Wanda and Vision curled up on the sofa together or notice her watching Nat blatantly flirt with Bruce. She always looked happy for them, but that happiness held a tinge of longing. Just to be able to hold each other in front of everyone would be enough.

 For New Year’s Eve, Loki wanted to gift Y/N with a kiss, one that they didn’t have to hide.

 One last deep breath and Loki knocked on the door.

 “Enter if you must.” He heard Tony say through the door.

 This was it, no going back.

 When Loki entered, he saw Tony playing with the wires on a new contraption of his, while Pepper was going through his schedule with him.

 “Morning Loki.” Pepper greeted warmly, earning an eye roll from Tony.

 Loki nodded in her direction, “Miss Potts.”

 “Soon to be Mrs. Stark when she finally agrees…” Tony started, clearly bringing up a previous conversation.

 “I might hyphenate.” Pepper reminded him in a sing-song voice.

 “Stark-Potts, Potts-Stark… interesting.” Tony pondered.

 Loki stood there awkwardly, not sure if he should be privy to this conversation. The couple broke out of their lover’s quarrel to address the other person in the room.

 “What can I do for you reindeer games?” Tony asked, though his attention was on the machinery.

 Loki cleared his throat, “I wished to speak to you about something. Something of importance.”

 Tony took a dirty rag and wiped his hands clean, bringing his attention to the trickster.

 “I’ll leave you both to it.” Pepper said and began to make her way out of the lab.

 “Actually,” Loki spoke up, causing her to pause, “I would like to speak with both of you.”

 Pepper and Tony exchanged a look, but they both nodded and took a seat together.

 Pepper had an idea of what this conversation could be about. She had noticed Y/N’s flushed cheeks when the handsome God looked her way; she had also noticed the lovesick smile on Loki’s face when Y/N did something sweet and endearing.  

 Tony also had his suspicions. He too had noticed the way his niece had flourished in recent weeks; Loki seemed to coax out a confidence in her that not even Tony knew she had.

 It wasn’t that this beautiful, strong young woman had been made better with the presence of a man. Rather, it was the same way in which the right colour shirt could bring out someone’s eyes; he complimented her, and she him.

 Tony knew it was only a matter of time before Loki approached him about this, Tony also knew the Y/N was her own woman and could date whoever she wanted. That didn’t make it easier though; she was still the little girl that clutched his hand tightly when he first brought her to New York.

 What would Lia do? What would Rafael say about his daughter falling for a God? None of these questions mattered though. Y/N’s parents were gone, and this was one of the milestones in Y/N life that Tony would have to be part of, not them.

 Loki cleared his throat nervously, “It’s about Y/N… you may have noticed we have grown quite close over the last few weeks. I think she is a remarkable young woman; she is intelligent, kind… beautiful. Well, I’ve grown very fond of her.”

 “You don’t say.” Pepper murmured, a sly smile on her face.

 Pepper’s smile put Loki more at ease, “With your permission, I would like to formally court her.”

 Tony’s eyebrows shot up, “Court?”

 “I believe it’s called dating around here.” Loki clarified.

 Tony fell silent, contemplating how to respond to this. Pepper discreetly took hold of his hand. Although she may not be a blood relative of Y/N’s, Pepper had been there to watch her grow up; it was hard to imagine that sweet little girl as a mature, young lady. Even though she knew Tony would do the right thing, she knew this wasn’t easy on him.

 “Alright.” Tony said.

 “Alright?” Loki asked, in slight disbelief.

 Tony got up and busied himself with some tasks around the room, “There will be rules, obviously, but yes, you may ‘court’ Y/N.”

 Loki let out a sigh of relief. Even Pepper released a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

 “Thank you Stark.” Loki said earnestly.

 As Loki was about to leave Tony spoke up, “Oh and Loki?”

 Loki turned back around.

 “If you hurt her in any way shape or form, there is not one person in this tower that would hesitate to kill you.” Tony threatened in such a casual tone it could have been mistaken as dinner conversation.

 Loki nodded in understanding, “I would expect nothing less.”

 When the door to the lab closed behind him, Loki felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Loki noticed movement down the corridor to his left. There he spotted Thor peaking his head out of a doorway.

 Loki raised a curious eyebrow at his brother to which Thor responded, “Well?”

 Loki shook his head and gave a discreet thumbs up, earning a fist pump in the air from Thor.

     The night of New Years Eve saw much hustle and bustle as the residents of the avengers’ tower got ready for their party.

 Y/N found herself excited for this party. There would be no Shield agents or angry strangers glaring at her; it was just her little family at the tower. When she counted how many people she could happily talk to without fear or anxiety, she could count every single person there, even Thor.

 Y/N was also excited to see Loki. He had told her that morning that he had some important things to attend to, and with a gentle kiss to her lips he left. She hadn’t seen him all day, meaning the next time she did seem him would be in his new, fitted suit.

 She had been daydreaming about the party; imagining Loki escorting her, with her hand resting daintily in the crook of his arm. She would tell him how handsome he was and he would twirl her around on the dancefloor. She knew this couldn’t happen, but she stored away these little fantasies hoping they would one day come to life.

 Y/N had always loved her parents love story; Tony always told it best. Y/N’s father had gate-crashed a party with Tony and his brother Regan. Rafael wasn’t much of a party goer, but Regan and Tony had convinced him it would be a good laugh. Lia had attended the party with a date arranged by her mother. He was an annoying suck up who worked for her father’s company, Lia never could remember his name.

 It wasn’t a love at first sight kind of story. Rafael had walked into a room filled with men; all were flustered yet mesmerised all at once. That is when he noticed her. She was holding court, discussing philosophy and ethics with men twice her age with half her intellect. She had noticed the handsome young Tatum watching her, but she refused to pander over him like the many other women at the party.

 Eventually she excused herself and headed over to the bar; Rafael offered to buy her a drink, she declined. He asked her if she wanted to dance, but again she declined. Eventually he asked her what she wanted, that’s when she looked him straight in the eye, raised her eyebrow in challenge and said, “Freedom.”

 Rafael took her hand and kidnapped her from her date. They spent the rest of the night in a fast-food carpark, shoes kicked off, staring out onto the coast. Lia always told Y/N that it had been the best night of her life.

 Y/N didn’t believe in the great romances that people write poems about, but she believed in the love her parents held for each other. How could she not? She was a product of it.

Although she knew she couldn’t act out her daydreams tonight, she would still do something; a gesture to let Loki know how much she cared.

    Loki stood by the bar watching the festivities take place. His brother was by his side, encouraging the young spiderling to take a sip of mead. Steve quickly confiscated Thor’s flask only for it to be swiped by Sam a moment later.

 Bucky approached the small group, “You know, for a couple of misfits, we scrub up pretty good.”

 Loki chuckled, “We could almost pass as upstanding citizens.”

 The men all gathered around to tell war stories, awaiting the arrival of the women. Tony excused himself to meet Pepper who had just arrived in a stunning blue gown. When the lights hit her just right, she looked like she was dripping in diamonds.

 Nat arrived in red. It was a blood red, unapologetically bold, with a thigh high slit. In fact, it was almost as red as Bruce’s cheeks upon seeing her.

 Vision showed all the men up and presented Wanda with flowers when she entered the room. The purple of the fuchsia’s matched the flowing amethyst gown she had chosen to wear.

 Y/N’s arrival inspired sheer awe. First to notice her was Peter, whose jaw had dropped and whose only response was to slap Thor in the chest to attract his attention. Thor followed suit, equally mesmerised; he then smacked Bucky in the chest to get his attention. Bucky mimicked the other two, and the final person to be wacked in the chest was Loki, who was certain he had been bewitched.

 Her silky hair was done up in a bun, with loose tendrils framing the delicate features of her face. She didn’t wear much jewellery, but she did wear a bejewelled hairgrip that gave the illusion of a halo when she walked under the lights. Finally, there was the dress. A spaghetti trap emerald garment: the silk fabric moved like the ripples of water when she walked.

 She was beautiful. Not only because of her dress and accessories; but because of the confidence she radiated walking into that room. She was glowing.

 She joined the small group of men. “Gentlemen.” She greeted.

 It was possible, that for the first time in the silver tongue’s life Loki was speechless.

 With the arrival of all the tower’s residents, the party began. In true Gatsby fashion, Tony had the drinks flowing ad music blasting. Everybody was on the dancefloor, even Bruce.

 After she had danced with Peter, Loki decided it was appropriate for him to cut in.

 “My lady.” He spoke, kissing the back of her hand and pulling her in for a slow dance.

 She giggled, “My prince.”

 The swayed to the soft melody, enchanted by the words of the songstress.

 “You look mesmerising darling.” He whispered in her ear.

 She blushed, “And you look like a Midgardian prince. How is it you always look so regal?”

 He chuckled softly at her inquiry, “Years of practice my dear.”

 Without realising, they had spent hours dancing together. No one wanted to invade the little bubble the sweet couple were dancing in; so, they watched on fondly, aware of something that was yet to be admitted.

 All of a sudden Friday made an announcement, “One minute till midnight.”

 Everyone moved quickly, forming groups in their couples or rushing to get party poppers and drinks.

 Y/N pulled away from Loki’s embrace reluctantly and gave her best fake smile, “We had better get ready for the new year.”

 Loki smiled softly at her efforts, “I have been ready for quite some time.” He said and pulled her closer.

 “10, 9, 8, 7, 6…”

 Y/N was confused by his actions and was about to question him.

 “5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

 Before she could speak he leant down, his lips hovering over hers.

 “Happy new year darling.” He whispered and kissed her.

 She froze at first, but muscle memory kicked in. She finally understood those sappy movies when they said the world disappeared when kissing the right person.

 When they broke apart, the music and cheers for the new year came back into focus. Y/N took a quick look around to gauge the reactions of the people who had seen them.

 Peter and Thor looked like the Cheshire cat with their unwavering smiles. Bucky merely raised the flask he and Sam had stolen from Steve. Then there was Tony.

 Y/N had feared his reaction above all else, but he smiled at her and nodded. A silent gesture of acceptance.

 So without further ado, she kissed her trickster God again, with the knowledge that this new year held the possibility of being her best one yet.”

[anika-ann]

Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold - Pt.8 (M.M.)

The Date

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader,  onde-sided Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 3850

Summary: Avenger!reader AU, love triangle. You go out with Matt Murdock and to your own surprise, it doesn’t end up a disaster. Quite the opposite.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst

Story Mastelist

────── ·❆· ──────

“I honestly don’t know why I’m freaking out about my outfit. He won’t even be able to see it! Why am I freaking out, Tasha?” you asked her on a verge of desperation, smoothening your dress for the millionth time.

As you got to the hem of the dress, all you wanted to do was to pull it over your head and change. Again. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, honestly considering it.

Natasha, standing behind you, put her hands on your shoulders to keep you in place and raised her eyebrow.

“Hey. You have every right to be nervous. How long has it been since your last date?” she asked gently, surprisingly so for a super-spy.

You bit your lip guiltily – of course, she found the root of the trouble. It had been too freaking long. The fact you were going out with Matt – an amazing human being – was not helping to sooth your nerves either.

“Almost two years.”

“Well. I think you’re entitled. But you’re gonna be fine,” she reassured you and you caught her honest gaze in the mirror. She squeezed your shoulders. “That guy? He fell hard – I hope you figured that out already. Just be yourself and you’ll be fine.”

You took a deep breath. “Thanks, Tasha. I really should go or I’ll be late. The taxi might even be here already.”

You picked up your coat, leaving the dresses you didn’t even want to count – Natasha had supplied you with too many of hers and still, you took the only dress you owned yourself – and grabbed your purse on the way.

You were insanely grateful to Natasha for her help – yet, your heart was fluttering nervously and ached a little. You wished Steve was here too, but you understood this was more of a ladies thing. You were sure he wished you the best for your date even if you hadn’t heard him say it.

You opened the door only to meet with Steve’s surprised face. His eyes measured you from head to toe and you fought the urge to hide – god knew why. That was until his gaze returned to your face and a smile appeared on his lips.

“You look beautiful, Snowflake,” he whispered, checking you out shamelessly once more. “He’s a lucky guy.”

You bit your lip, feeling the rush of heat colouring your cheeks. You lowered your gaze, examining your shoes; they had heels, you were about to kill yourself in them, why were you wearing them again…?

Steve chuckled at your reaction. You couldn’t help but feel like there was something foreign in that supposedly happy sound, something you couldn’t decode.

A hand appeared under your chin, fingers tucking a strand of your hair that fell in your face behind your ear. He kissed your forehead lovingly and you inhaled deeply, trying to calm down your rapidly beating heart. You knew he was trying to help, but it didn’t really work.

“Hey, Snowflake. Hold your head high, you look wonderful. It’s gonna be fine. If he upsets you, you not only can let him go, but you have five– no, six pissed off friends actually, I’m sure Thor would stop by for that – to punch Matt in his face. Understood?”

That finally made you relax and the tension in your shoulders eased with a huffed laughter. Steve’s eyes twinkled for a moment and you couldn’t but laugh again.

“Did you just say ‘pissed off’?” you asked incredulously and Steve shrugged it off – except a hint of a blush appeared in his cheeks too and hell, you could not miss that. You feasted your eyes on his embarrassment and only then gave Captain Language a proper hug, which was reciprocated tightly.

“I guess I’m nervous for you that much,” he murmured over your shoulder and the statement melted your heart.

“Thank you, Steve.”

He squeezed your waist once more, caressed your back and released you from his embrace, uneasy smile on his lips.

“Go. We wouldn’t want you to be late.”

You just nodded and made your way to the elevator. You sparred one more glance at Natasha, who joined Steve in the hallway, couple of dressed folded over her forearm. She grinned at you.

“Not to make you nervous, Frosty, but just because he won’t be able to see you with his eyes, it doesn’t mean he won’t appreciate your appearance! And other stuff! Considering all of his senses are heightened!” she called after you and you felt you face turning into a mask of horror.

All of his senses. Shit. What perfume did you use? How much could he— would he be able to tell you hugged-- did Steve just hug you to make Matt jealous and possibly make him think you were wanted, so he would value the fact you were going out with him more?

No, wait, you were the one who hugged Steve, which--- this was so going to be a disaster. You whined and slid into your coat, hoping it would make you invisible. And undetectable in any other way. This evening started swimmingly…

With you going down in the elevator, Natasha and Steve were left alone.

“Smooth, Rogers. Very subtle,” the spy exclaimed, patting his arm patronizingly. Steve shot her an unreadable glare.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“About the fact Mr. Hot and Devilish wouldn’t even have to make her unhappy. It’s him making her happy that you want to punch him in the face for.”

Steve grinded his teeth, his look turning murderous. “That’s not true. I want them to get together.”

“Sure,” she agreed, shrugging. “That’s why you marked your territory like a goddamned dog.”

The rush of irritation and shame at being caught hit him stronger than excepted. Natasha knew exactly how to push his buttons and it drove him crazy.

“I didn’t-“ he protested lamely, only to realize he indeed hadn’t. “She was the one who hugged me.”

“Yeah. Keep yourself telling that. She did hug you, but what happened before that, that was on you. I’m surprised you didn’t kiss her on her mouth. I don’t understand how one can be so blind— eh, sorry-”

Steve’s hands curled into fists and he paced to his room to change into something more suitable for workout. He needed to punch something and as much as he was pissed at Natasha for mocking him, he liked her too much to hurt her – the punching bags would have to suffice. Bags, definitely plural, because he would tear some today, no doubt.

“Have a good workout, big guy!” she shouted after him almost cheerily and he slammed the door with such force that dust of plastering snowed down around the doorway.

Snowed down. Fuck. That would be more than one ruined bag today.

────── ·❆· ──────  

Entering the restaurant was one of the scariest things you had ever done. But the friendly space welcomed you, soft lights illuminating the room, white clothing on the tables, each with a candle on it, several people talking rather lowly. You gulped looking around – probably forgetting everything Natasha had taught you about subtle observation, because the hostess spotted you immediately and walked to you, assuming you were completely lost.

“Good evening. Do you have a reservation, madam? Are you meeting anyone here? Or I am going to look for a table for one?” she asked politely, professionalism never leaving her face.

You gulped. “Uhm… meeting someone actually. There should be a reservation for seven o’clock under the name Murdock?”

“Of course. Mr. Murdock is waiting for you. Follow me.”

‘Waiting for you?’ You were five minutes early! You were kinda hoping you would have time to calm your nerves-

Matt probably knew about you the second you entered the restaurant – still, it surprised you when he rose as you approached the table and pulled out your chair for you to sit down before helping you from your coat.

“Hi, Matt,” you greeted him unsurely, obediently sitting down. “Thank you.”

If he wouldn’t have stood up, you wouldn’t have recognized him – or at least it would take you a while. He wore a nice-fitting black suit with white shirt and crimson tie – not something you were used to; the only outfit you had seen him in was either his armour or the shirt he wore in the hospital, where you hadn’t really paid attention.

His face was partly hidden behind a pair of round red-toned glasses, making you feel like you were meeting a completely different person. You had already met Daredevil, you had met Matt, you supposed, and now you were meeting Mr. Murdock. Though the colour of his tie and glasses was a hint, sending a vibe of familiarity towards you.

“Your waitress will be here shortly,” the hostess announced, barely noticed.

Matt smiled at you. “Hi. Glad you could make it.”

You inhaled sharply. Was your nervousness that evident?

“Yeah. Yeah, me too. It… it was… okay, uhm, I guess you can tell I got hugged profusely. By Steve. And Nat. I was… nervous. Sorry,” you mumbled, watching the flame of the candle flicker as you exhaled. “It’s been a while since I was… out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his tone surprisingly soothing. It worked for you, okay. “It’s been a while for me too.”

That made you snap your head up.

“Really?” you blurted out. “I mean… you just seem like a guy who…”

He tilted his head, his eyebrow rising in challenge. “…yes?”

“Oh god, no I didn’t mean like…” You whined silently. Now it sounded as if you were saying he was a manwhore.

“I’m waiting for you to finish that sentence. Are you suggesting something?” he teased you and it ignited the flame of banter-queen that had revealed herself while on the mission with the Devil.

“I’m suggesting that you seem like a guy who can’t complain about the lack of attention from women – possibly men. I don’t know where your train of thought headed…”

He grinned, impressed and possibly satisfied with himself; he had every right. You found the uneasy sensation in your stomach resolve as you stepped into a more familiar territory of teasing. And with him grinning, damn, he was a handsome little shit.

“Thanks. I do have a rich nightlife, but…”

“Right. I can understand that there are different kinds of nightlife.”

“Exactly. Sneaking from bed every night doesn’t work well. And loading every potential partner with why I do it… it’s not that easy.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered and Matt just shook his head.

“It’s my choice. I’m glad you’re here and we have this part out of our way.”

You bit your lip as he gave you yet another smile, this time softer. “I’m glad too. But are you suggesting there’s more?”

He chuckled dryly. “Well. Of course there is, but we can work with that later. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has some things that are important, yet not the best thing to discuss on the first date.”

The flutter of your heart caused by the mention of heavy baggage on your side turned into an excited one as you were reminded this was your first date – with a great man, who was as badass and cocky as he seemed understanding, sweet and gallant.

“Yeah. You think wine would help?”

“Absolutely.”

────── ·❆· ──────  

The wine did help. You two made it through why you hadn’t been on a date for a while, which featured your struggle with the disease and you ‘dying’ and joining the Avengers. To balance the heaviness, you mentioned few stunts your friends in the Tower had pulled so far.

Matt told you about his best friend finding about his nightlife, but also about the work they did in their little firm with big ambitions, throwing in stories from college.  

You laughed, your cheeks hurt and your belly too, your body was pleasantly buzzing and you hadn’t even noticed the restaurant was almost empty until Matt took off his glasses, toying with the earpiece of them.

“I like it better this way,” you noted deliberately and his fingers froze. “Uh-uh, no, leave them off, please. I really do like it better, if that’s okay with you.”

He sort-of looked at you shyly and you were welcomed by the warm of his brown irises, twinkling in the soft light of the candle.

“You sure?” he pried hesitantly and you nodded, hoping he could perceive that.

He resembled a lost but hopeful puppy and it was such a surreal look on his face – through the night, you had had an opportunity to know him a bit more, but this was… new. No matter what you had been discussing, there always had been confidence in him – more or less. You didn’t think he would be self-continuous about his eyes of all things, but it made sense. Your heart swelled.

“Yeah, Matt. I really am.”

Time flied and before you knew it, the waitress politely pointed out they were about to close the restaurant.

“Oh,” you let out intelligently, honestly taken aback. This time wary of being subtle, you checked the space – it was empty. Everyone was out. Oh.

“Of course. Bring me the check, please,” Matt asked, apparently unfazed. You could only wonder if he had been aware of their situation; given his abilities, he probably had. Huh. Guess he didn’t want to leave either – the thought warmed you heart.

He paid for you both, helping you with your coat again. Once you were outside, pleasantly cool air brushing your cheeks, he turned to you sheepishly.

“May I walk you home? Or do you prefer a cab?”

Your heels were killing you already; yet, the choice was clear, because you didn’t want the night to end.

“Walk?”

Your reward was his wide smile and silent request for your elbow. Damn the heels, this was worth it.

“Lead the way?” he asked as he folded his cane, his hand sliding under your arm.

You would be hesitant about the direction, but the Avengers tower was too much of a highlight to miss it. Still, you couldn’t help but tease him.

“Do you trust a woman with directions?”

He chuckled. “Well, I am blind, so I’m trusting anyone who can actually see where we’re going. Perhaps not any woman. I think we established a while ago that I trust you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, making Matt’s smile grow. Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all, that he could read literally every reaction your body had. Not awkward at all.

“Thanks.”

You weren’t stupid enough to walk to the Tower. For all you knew, Tony had his eyes on everything within a half-mile radius at least and you didn’t want him to spy on you two. That man had no sense of privacy whatsoever.

“Well, I guess this is me,” you murmured, stopping in your tracks. Matt frowned and you cleared your throat. “Uhm… eyes and ears everywhere. I don’t want to…”

A flash of understanding appeared on his face and he laughed silently as he turned his whole body to you. He was close. Very close.

“That makes sense. Too bad it means we have to say goodbye now.”

“Technically, we don’t have to. Say it, that is,” you added at his confused expression. One corner of his lips rose higher, his free hand finding yours and running up your arm.

“Very true, Gerda.”

Your breath hitched as he used your nickname for the first time that night. His hands weren’t helping you to control your breathing either.

“We can always go with a goodnight.”

“Is a goodnight kiss too bold?” he whispered, leaning in just slightly, giving you a room to escape if you wanted to. You didn’t think you wanted to escape.

“Very bold…” His face fell, silent ‘oh’ escaping him. “But I’m okay with bold.”

“Mean woman,” he murmured, erasing the distance and meeting your lips.  

Your heart positively stopped the moment it happened and it felt like eternity before it kicked back in.

His lips were warm against yours, gentle and hesitant at first. Your own hand deliberately shot up to his face as you realized a response would be appropriate, but dammit it had been a while and his mouth on yours felt so fucking good. Your fingers found his nape, pulling him just a little closer as heat coiled in your abdomen, welcoming the butterflies fluttering their wings in your stomach. You felt the grip on your elbow tightening and Matt took your lower lip between his, fondling with more boldness indeed.

You sighed in appreciation, your heart hammering in your ribcage that suddenly felt too small, even for your breathing. You retreated just slightly, needing some air, but aching at the thought of creating a distance between you and him. He inhaled deeply too, his hand on your jaw, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Goodnight?” he tried out silently and you couldn’t help but chuckle, enjoying the tickle of his breath as he did the same.

“Fight me, but that didn’t feel like a goodnight kiss.” You shortly met his lips again, unable to resist – but aiming for only a peck that wouldn’t leave your fingertips tingling like the previous kiss. “Goodnight?”

“Goodnight indeed.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth before letting go of you and you pretended you didn’t feel cold all of sudden. At least his warm eyes were still watching your chin.

“Stay safe,” you whispered and Matt gave you one more gorgeous smile.

“I’ll try. Take care.”

You nodded and forced your body to spin on your heels to go, because if you wouldn’t do it now, you might as well end up going home with him or taking him to the Tower, which something you weren’t really ready for.

You started walking, snuggling into your coat, crossing your arms on your chest to keep yourself warmer. You spared one more glance at Matt, who was still standing where you had left him, raising his hand in tiny wave as you looked over your shoulder. Your cheeks burned as you got caught; then again, he hadn’t move from his position, watching you as well, so you had no reason to be truly embarrassed.

Or you thought so, until you realized the air actually was unusually chilly for September and to make it perfect, a snowflake fell on your nose. You looked around, realizing it started snowing.

Snowing. This wasn’t normal. Which meant… did you just…?

“Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath, unsure whether you should be horrified or not as you turned your palm up, catching few more snowflakes. You… you somehow did this. It was as terrifying as awesome.

In the end, you just giggled at what you had caused.

Let it snow.

────── ·❆· ──────  

Natasha was standing in her room, staring out of the window as snowflakes slowly descended. None of them stuck, melting as soon as they collided with the surface, but there was no denying it really was snowing. And given the fact that the temperature needed to drop significantly for this to happen, there was no doubt whose doing was that – deliberate or not.

Your emotions were running high.

“Hey, Steve. What are you still doing awake?” she heard your astonished voice from the hallway and she bit her lip. This was definitely your excited voice; the date went well. The snow was a good sign.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Natasha’s heart ached for her friend, simultaneously wondering if you could hear the subtle hint of pain in his voice. She suddenly felt guilty for helping you to get ready for the date – but it felt like the right thing to do.

“So you went to a gym? It’s after midnight. You’re making us all look like couch potatoes.”

Natasha could easily imagine that the soldier ‘casually’ shrugged.  

“Felt like working out,” he explained easily. No shit. How many punching bags did he destroy this time?

“Is everything okay? I know it’s not the first time. Something troubling you? Talk to me, Steve,” you pleaded softly.

Natasha sighed. That would be your placing your hand on his forearm in comforting gesture, your eyes screaming ‘you can trust me’. You always did that, because it was the thing you two did and you two were so utterly hopeless it hurt.

“It’s nothing, Snowflake. Nothing you need to worry about. You look happy. I take it the date went well?”

His voice was strained and the spy had no doubt you could tell. Yet, you answered him, tiny chuckle bubbling in your throat. “Yeah. It did.”

“One more reason for you not to worry about me,” Steve offered kindly and Natasha just gritted her teeth. Rogers was such an ass. Noble, maybe, but bozhe, such an ass. “I’m happy for you, Snowflake.”

“Thank you. But we’re talking about you, soon. I need you to be happy too, Steve. You’re too important to me and too good not to be.”

Natasha agreed wholeheartedly, glancing at the flash drive on her nightstand. She had downloaded the conversation she had with Steve, him confessing his feelings for you, but now, it seemed worthless.

While she wished for you to be happy, she was hoping you could do that with the supersoldier who was head over heels for you. She had been sure you felt the same, but now she had doubts. You could easily fall in love with Daredevil, he was charming enough, and she had no right to interfere with your love-life.

“Okay. I promise I’ll tell you later.”

Natasha scoffed. Yeah, sure. On your deathbed, maybe.

“ ‘kay. Love you, Steve. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Snowflake.”

Natasha heard your footsteps trailing off and slowly went to open her door for a slit.

“Don’t say a word,” Steve warned her icily, a heart-breaking crack in his voice.

“I was gonna offer you a drink, an ‘I’m sorry’ and a hug.”

She heard him inhale and exhale shakily and she stepped out to find him resting his forehead against the nearest wall. His eyes were squeezed shut and she would swear it wasn’t sweat what gleamed on his cheeks. She pressed her lips together, hesitantly bringing her palm to his arm. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I’m really sorry, Steve,” she whispered tentatively, surprised when he bounced off the wall, looking her straight in the eye. His own were indeed glassy, but he wasn’t crying.

“You don’t have to be. She deserves the win, I’m happy for her.”

He said it with such conviction that if she hadn’t known him well enough, she wouldn’t notice how fragile the façade he had hastily built up was.

“Good. But you should know you don’t have to be, macho man. It’s okay to be angry, not just with yourself, but also with her and especially with him. You can be sad and you can be hurt. I know I’m not exactly the most open person when it comes to emotions, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel. And you can feel too.”

Steve escaped her gaze, but she could see his tiny nod. She took it as a victory and encouraged, she took his huge arm.

“Come on, Cap, let’s find out where Thor stocked the good booze.”

────── ·❆· ──────

Tags:  @mermaidxatxheart​, @murdermornings​, @elisaa-shelby​ @ask-hellbent-tweek

────── ·❆· ──────

Thank you for reading! If you read for Matt x reader, this is it for ya, sorry ;) You can always check out Steve x reader ending or my other Matt Murdock fics :-*

[pridesobright]

If you’re up for it, what artist or painting do each of the boys remind you of?

disclaimer: art is subjective, so are people’s opinions, and my choices are based on my perception of the boys’ personalities. you may not agree with me, therefore the paintings might not correspond to what you had imagined… still, i tried to shed a light on my own thoughts, which is something i rarely do on tumblr — i tried to remain as objective and positive as possible!

+ louis —

louis is so fiercely good! supportive, loyal, brave… i’ve never seen someone so witty and intelligent, caring and sensitive. louis shines, louis sparkles!!

but he also tells stories like no else. it is truly fascinating how louis can turn the smallest life experiences into masterpieces!! the raw emotions he’s able to convey in just a sentence: we’re sleeping on our problems like we’ll solve them in our dreams…. it’s easy getting lost into louis’ ocean blue eyes but it’s even easier falling for his talent — through storytelling, louis always shares a positive message and i’m in awe of the way he goes through life despite everything that’s been thrown at him. passionate and driven, louis is authentic and unapologetically himself!

i decided to associate louis with gustav klimt — the artist received a conservative and classical training and began his career painting churches and theaters, following the traditional and historical style popular at the time. quite similar to louis’ mindset at the start of his solo career, klimt focused on what the upper class expected of him! however, he kept developing a more meaningful personal style. one that relied on symbolism and the extensive use of the ornamental gold leaf. his paintings were highly decorative and it is the aesthetic of klimt’s work that made the connection so easy ♡

gustav klimt painted many women in erotic positions, embracing their nudity and a celebration of sexuality, which was controversial at the time. but more than that, the artist depicted loving embraces, abandonment and passion. tenderness. and by coating his paintings in golden powder, klimt created a warm cocoon around his subjects! 1. adele bloch-bauer I - 2. judith I (details) - 3. le baiser (details)

louis is so often associated with the color yellow and it’s easy to understand why — yellow is the most luminous color and is the symbol of happiness, optimism and enlightenment. as a warm color, yellow represents light and creates a sense of hope: it is radiant! gold shares many of the same attributes. it is bright, cheerful and is often associated with love, courage and passion. gold illuminates our world and so does louis!

+ zayn —

zayn is very creative, expressive and imaginative. i’d say he’s cautious and overall very intelligent about his privacy! society will often describe quiet people as mysterious, and it romanticizes anxiety in a way that makes my blood boils… it’s a dangerous culture where people with mental disorders are seen as edgy or cool when in reality they are deeply misunderstood. at times defensive, i believe zayn is strong-willed and values his freedom more than anything!

associating zayn with street art was a given. is there anything more liberating than leaving your trace into the world, anonymously and illegally, without knowing if your work will be painted over in the next few days or a couple of years?

artists such as roa, bansky, kobra, invader or shepard fairey have now made a huge impact, and street art has been popularized. many paintings are known worldwide but before then, you had the travel the world to seek out the artists’ works!

and even if some murals can be seen from afar, they draw you in no matter what. like an invisible pull, some are forcing you to cross the street or climb a few stairs to get closer — zayn draws you in! whether people are affected by his quiet personality, his looks or the sheer quality of his voice, you can’t help but want to learn more about him!

i chose behind the curtain by martin whatson for that very reason! at first cold and unreachable, zayn is full of qualities and life experiences deserving to be uncovered.

martin whatson is a stencil artist working in oslo. looking for beauty in decayed and abandoned urban spaces, he developed his style using grey tones as a basis and adding vibrant colours to bring a splash of life. i also love pull back and behind the wall ♡

+ niall —

to me, niall is the type of person who’s enjoying life as best as he can, and fully appreciating everything there is to offer. whether it be passion, irritation, love, fun or distress. mainly because of his cheerful and bubbly personality, he’s seemingly going through life as if it was a big fest! but don’t be fooled, he knows heartbreak too and there’s more to him!!

niall’s albums feel warm, nostalgic and intimate. we’re being let  in into a part of him without any flourishes. a melody strummed on his  guitar and here we are, transported into the past and reminiscing about  an old lover. niall definitely is a romantic! listening to heartbreak  weather, there is so much tenderness into his songs…

this painting is called manège de cochons by robert delaunay — it is part of a series devoted to modern urban life and popular shows. carried away by a whirlwind of vibrant colors, it recreates the lively atmosphere of the fairgrounds.

it definitely represents niall and his complex mind. the colors, so vibrant, are an ode to his cheerfulness. for delaunay, primary colors and their complements exalt each other by contrast. and the same tone can be perceived differently depending on its intensity or its arrangement!

at first, only the vibrancy and the warmth shine through but just like everyone else’s, niall’s mind is intricate. his emotions are raw and he puts his pain into songs, as if to compartmentalize everything. as if to tame those feelings and memories, maybe too loud at times! the colors aren’t just splash of nuances scattered across the canvas, they are deliberate. with purpose, they tell a story…

+ liam —

liam is good! and he always goes out of his way to do something good. he often tries to be more mindful of his actions. he’s constantly learning and just like everyone else liam makes mistakes, but he actively grows from them!!

liam is extremely talented, funny and charismatic, yet i feel like he’s not easily understood. he’s a very sensitive, sincere and sweet person, and despite everything liam went through, he remains cheerful, generous and courageous!

he is also passionate and pursues many hobbies — be it fashion, art, cooking or comics: he is well-versed in many topics and it’s a real pleasure to now follow him on youtube!!

robert rauschenberg was passionate about many mediums himself, and he incorporated newspapers, photographs and even some objects (undershirt, parasol parts) onto the canvas before adding broad strokes of paint! he kept exploring the boundaries of art and closely followed the current events of the time, using images of space flight and NASA’s photographs into his work — space (tribute 21) is a personal favorite ♡

i actually picked a selection of artworks to match liam’s personality: 1. untitled (red painting) - 2. untitled (red painting) - 3. red interior. i particularly love that last one, as the far-right stripe reminds me of liam’s chevron tattoo!!

for many years now, liam has been associated with red and it’s no surprise at all — red is the color of passionate love, seduction and adventure. strength, vitality and ambition. it used to be seen as the color of fire, a primal life force. to the greeks, red symbolized super-human heroism. liam is a force of nature, strong both physically and mentally. he is hard-working and energetic!

+ harry —

forget about the way harry has been portrayed ever since he was a sixteen-year-old boy. forget about the curls and the dimples. simply observe the person harry is today. take a closer look at what he decides to share with us. pay attention to the way he’s presenting himself.

fine line (the album) takes us on an introspective journey into his deepest emotions — whether it be torment or happiness. and i think it’s fascinating how well-executed his songs are! even in a catchy and happy song such as golden, harry managed to address quite a raw and painful concept: i’m hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky / i don’t want to be alone — it’s heartbreaking, yet you almost wished you could feel it too!

through various allegories and metaphors, harry makes you question yourself. he interrogates you and talks about a reality you didn’t know existed or could relate to. harry is magnetic.

this painting is called composition XI by vassily kandinsky — and i can’t help but compare both harry and vassily. kandinsky was a painter, professor, poet and art theorist, generally credited as the pioneer of abstract art! he spent years creating sensorially rich paintings, and was fascinated by musicians who could evoke images in listeners’ minds. he strove to work with forms and colors that alluded to sounds and emotions!!

in songs like fine line, the music swells and deflates as if it was a beating heart. each track conveys a different emotion and translates a distinct concept! through his melodies, harry aims to make us feel joy, melancholy,  determination or bitterness, even when the lyrics are anything but. his albums leave us speechless and wondering, just like abstract art!

+ overall, this is what art is meant to make you feel! it’s supposed to challenge you. art is meant to make you rethink your boundaries and open up your mind. it’s meant to question you and leave you wanting for more! you are meant to listen to a song several times to fully understand its meaning, and meant to stand in front of a painting for hours to start grasping the artist’s thought process…

yet art remains subjective! depending on your own life experiences and upbringing. art is free for you to interpret as you wish and so is music! i hope you enjoyed this post, thank you for reading it ♡

[saturn-mp4]

The Aesthetic Tag

Rules: Bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold.

(soft!) baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal| fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night |

(dark academia!) neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

(edgy!) closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

(seventies!) colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

(preppy casual!) collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time| frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colorful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairy-lights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details

@thelivebookproject endless summer sunny days | reading book after book after book | singing in the car | braids on wet hair | visiting ancient buildings and imagining life there | going berry picking | bullet journaling | making list after list after list | wanting to be sociable but too solitaire to make it work | having too many blankets on the bed | being fascinated by languages| shouting at TV debate shows | long silent winter evenings | playing classical piano | bad puns | wishing for change but being scared of it | dainty jewelery | foggy glasses over a cup of tea

@psychedaboutstudying warming your feet to a bonfire late summer evenings | writing in the sand to let the waves wash it away | oversized woolen socks | two messy buns | getting lost in music played through big headphones | reading twelve books at the same time | office job during the week punk rock on the weekends | imagining you’re in a music video when in the car | wooden decor pieces | planning as a hobby | women in suits | animal printed everything | colour-coded annotated research papers | fluffy sweaters and steaming hot tea in the winter | karaoke night at your friends’ home | guilty pleasures spotify lists | self-education | long high-waisted skirts | endless curiosity | sitting on the floor

@booknerdphd messy buns | baggy sweaters | black leggings | constant background lo-fi music | multiple downloads of the same paper in multiple folders | drinking all beverages from a mug (even alcohol) | cloudy days and heavy rains | the smell of air before it rains | diligent at work lazy at home | visiting art and history museums | 16 oz thermos flask to fill with coffee at any given time | sneakers and ankle length socks | denim jackets | sad song playlists forever | consumes entertainment in 4 (or just multiple) different languages | singing in the apartment like you’re singing in the shower

@phdead high heel boots | flannel | messy bun | wearing the same piece of jewelry | asymmetric earrings | speed walks everywhere | but refuses to jog/run | long colourful nails | space buns | motivated by challenges | cherries | doesn’t like flowers | summer rain | chocolate covered strawberries | scared of heights | ties | shifts between aesthetics | cozy blankets and campfires |  thrifting | cleans to procrastinate

@evenrosespeaks french press coffee in the mornings | pj pants constantly at home | a “to-read” stack of books | story-rich video games | dried flowers | endless houseplants | floral dresses | fancy pens | hand-written to-do lists | scared of failure | chain drinking tea | lavender scented rooms and clothes | inbox zero| tries to resist clutter but ultimately fails | cardboard boxes instead of a bookshelf | lots of windows | dragging out things that I don’t want to end | wool coats | muted/dusty colors |  watching the rain from indoors.

@schleiereule94 eating too much chocolate | owls | the scent of cake/cookies in the oven | blasting loud music to destress | a clean desktop with only one folder named “documents” | “report_final_Version_final_current_really_final_version_7″ | hair ties in every corner of the house | leather leggings | long evening walks | watching the dogs in the park | heavy wind before a thunderstorm | the scent of the warming river in spring | overexcitement about travelling somewhere new | jumping around when happy or excited | going on your sibling(s) nerves but in a cute way | hugging trees | broken phone screen | colourful mandalas | aching muscles after workout | language confusion when switching from one to the other

@biomedstudyblr14 being tired but not going to bed til 2am | drinking 3 cups of tea in a row | listening to obscure artists | liking music at totally different ends of the spectrum | unbrushed hair | odd socks | loud | drama queen | could eat pizza every day | studies too much | hates children | does exercise but stays skinny | loves reed diffusers in their room | favourite scent is coconut | Wears trainers with every outfit | Watched youtube to understand lectures better | Can’t drive | Has ears pierced but never wears earrings | No makeup | Stationary hoarder

@saturn-mp4  flannels thrown over chairs | rainbow books | candles lighting up a room | iced coffees | wanting to play instruments but never learning | having the urge to go on walks at 2 am | uncontrolled laughing | being a dork but also having an old soul | multiple journals on the go at the same time | dancing around your room blasting music | hugs | endless ambition | a sea breeze | studying until 3 am in summer | running into the sea | slang | puppy energy |

[shortstories-13]

Let's imagine this with me for a second.

If lena was a guy named Lionel luthor jr. Because Supergirl loves to gender bend it's character.

So Lionel has exactly the same personality as lena.He is smart ,cunning sometimes ruthless and very handsome.

He leaves his home and comes to national city because he wants to share his home with a kryptonion with less trauma involved. He wants to make his own name outside his family and trying to repent his family's wrongdoing. In the process he befriends kara. They immediately feel a connection on a deeper level and never question their relationship even when their family tells them otherwise. Their trust is unwavering.All storylines are exactly same as kara and lena. Dialogues, settings , dress colours, exactly same. Throughout the years they become constant in each other's lives. No matter what. They also try to date other people but it doesn't work out.

There are some bad times too. Supergirl and Lionel doesn't always get along and have some disagreement. They challenge other's hypocrisy, but in the end it works out and both of them see other's point of view. Almost like they compliment each other.

Lionel loves kara very much. He shares his deepest desires and darkest thoughts with her. Kara also knows that underneath his tough exterior he is good man trying to do some good in the world where everyone judges him for his last name. They also share the principle of choosing the greater good vs saving their supposed love interest ,a principle even superman finds hard.As time passes kara starts to feel conflicted about revealing her Supergirl identity as she is afraid of losing him.

In fifth season Lionel finds out anyway through his abusive brother as he kills him. He feels betrayed. Everyone in his life has used him but he thought the kara would be different. She was the only sunshine in his darkness.

All the while kara is heartbroken. She feels sorry and wants nothing but to keep him in her life. They confront each other and it's really emotional.

Kara does everything in her power to get back Lionel. She even tries to go back in time to change history so that they could have happy ending but it doesn't work out.

Anyway everything plays same as season 5 storyline. In the end they patch up.

Now tell me if two people went through what kara and Lionel did , do you think the show would say their relationship is totally platonic, they are only friends. If they had this much chemistry, do you believe even for a second that the show wouldn't have pursued them romantically.

It is also the only consistent storyline of the show in last 4 years.

If one of them was a guy they would have been married by now.

The show has written an epic love story between a luthor and a super and the only thing stopping them is that they are both women. These are the facts.

Saw this photo and this thought came to my mind. This is how I imagined Lionel would look like.👇

[chilling-seavey]

Clementine Ophelia Seavey was born on January 1st, 2019 at 3:06am, bringing in the new year in the best way for her eighteen-year-old mother. She was born with nearly a full head of dark blonde hair and vibrant blue/green eyes, 7lbs 5oz and 20 inches long, Florence fell so head over heels in love with her the moment she laid eyes on her baby that all the worries in the world seemed to wash away.

Clementine’s biological father was Florence’s first boyfriend, Matt, in grade twelve and he was honestly a complete self-centred jerk but she had fallen too hard from across the history classroom to really notice any of his flaws. He left her pregnant and dipped for his on-again-off-again girlfriend, sending Florence into graduation pregnant and alone. Florence swore that men weren’t shit and she was destined to be alone as a single mother her whole life, but then Daniel walked into her life and fell just as in love with the baby as Florence was before she was even born. The moment Daniel held Clementine in his arms for the first time, he completely broke down in tears as if she was his all along. Even when Matt came back for the first eight months of Clementine’s life, she only ever saw Daniel as her father (probably since Matt was busier with frat parties than trying to be a dad), and her first word after ‘mama’ was ‘dada’, directed up at Daniel through her little grin and chubby hands outstretched. The one good thing that came from Matt walking out on his daughter was that Daniel was right there to take his place with pride, being the father that Clementine deserved and always loved.

You could say she was named after the sweet little fruit or Winston Churchill’s legendary wife, but mostly she was named after the old folk song that got Florence through those draining last few months of her pregnancy. Daniel would bring over his guitar and sit beside her on her bed and sing her the gentle song until she fell asleep; it was a song that meant so much to Florence and brought her so much comfort that she didn’t even hesitate writing the name down on the birth certificate. Her middle name, Ophelia, came from Florence’s favourite Shakespeare play, Hamlet, and a character she saw herself in so much as a young woman who, herself, was naïve and lived life led from her heart. She wanted to pass on a name to her daughter that was regal and came from strong literary roots to strengthen her as she grew up.

Her go to nickname was Clem, or when she was younger it was Clemmy. To her uncle Jack, she was his little orange, a nickname she sort of outgrew but she kept it around for jokes as she became older. To her father, she was angel as she could really never do wrong in Daniel’s eyes. It drove Florence crazy as Clementine could get away with so much mischief with just a pout and those blue eyes towards her father and he would just melt and give in to his sweet little angel.

She had been a daddy’s girl since before Daniel was even really considered her dad, always being protective of him as baby as she never let anyone near him and even still as she grew up. Being a young father and a handsome one at that, Daniel got plenty of stares from women but Clementine was his little bodyguard to ward off the ladies with her witty remarks or sassy glares so strangers knew Daniel was perfectly taken, thank you very much. Clementine loved her parents equally but was extra territorial over her father. Florence had her own special relationship with their eldest as Clementine was her firstborn and the one who helped change her life for the better. Florence had always been worried about Clementine not being treated fairly as she wasn’t Daniel’s biological daughter but they raised her as a Seavey and she was treated as one by everyone, especially her Aunt Anna who Clementine took a liking to from the moment they first met. Anna was Clementine’s go-to for fashion and for boy talk that she didn’t want to ask her mother about because whatever Florence knew, Daniel knew. With Anna, her secrets were always kept under lock and key. With her or Clementine’s sister, Penelope.

At only eighteen months apart, Clementine and Penelope were super close but quite different as Clementine was extremely sociable and Penelope was much shyer. When Penelope was first born, Clementine flipped between adoring her sister and hating her every hour, trying to get used to sharing her parents with the new baby. The girls grew up to be best of friends and had such a close bond through their entire lives, especially from sharing a room from Kindergarten until they moved away to university. Penelope sometimes felt as if Clementine hated her half the time because her older sister was so bluntly honest and called her out on everything and pushed her out of her comfort zone when it was the last thing Penelope wanted to do. Lucy, on the other hand, had a personality that mimicked Clementine and the two often fought to be the loudest in the house despite their five-year age difference. They were both proudly extroverted and Clementine often took her youngest sister out on adventures or for ice cream when she had the chance. Clementine liked having things go her way and when they weren’t, she would make it perfectly known that she wasn’t happy. Lord help 9-year-old Lucy who had started to learn how to play the cello and had to deal with the wrath of her older sister coming barrelling down the hallway to yell at her to “Shut up! I have exams to study for!”. Overall, Clementine was a caring and protective older sister, even if her fiery and witty personality sometimes felt like otherwise.

Clementine was the most ‘tomboy-ish’ of the Seavey daughters, but even still she always dressed with style and good taste, even if it was to the volleyball court or to the skate park with Jack. He taught her how to skateboard from a young age (Daniel made sure she was well equipped with knee pads and elbow pads and a helmet and would have wrapped her once in bubble wrap if he could) and as she hit her middle-school age, the two of them would be zipping around the park together. Clementine loved to adventure and travel and wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty – especially if it meant learning something new – and she was always the first one awake for summer hikes with Daniel or to go canoeing up north. She kept a lot of her Girl Guides knowledge from growing up as she stayed in the club for years and always threw out random survival tips whenever she could. Clementine was always a quick study and very focussed on her schoolwork although school came easy to her, so she really never put in much effort and still got shining grades. Debate team in high school was where she really shone and she found her passion there.

Strong-willed and incredibly ambitious, Clementine took her 4.0GPA and got into one of the top law schools in the country. This meant she would have to move away from home but that didn’t phase her in the slightest (her parents were a different story, however), she was always ready for a new adventure.

Clementine was persistent and bossy and courageous and fiery enough that could get her in some serious trouble sometimes but she was just sweet and charming enough to get herself out of it. Most of the time. Daniel was always the first one to fall for her puppy eyes…until she pulled a stunt like lying to him about where she was going and suddenly she couldn’t charm her way out of her father’s anger. Clementine was extremely sociable which was vastly different from her two generally introverted parents, and she always started conversations with adults in the supermarket when she was younger and made friends on the playground with ease. Everyone liked Clementine from strangers to teachers to peers alike. She was the popular girl in school who was friends with every group so no one felt left out – it certainly helped that she was in nearly every club possible.

Clementine was not only personable, but she was pretty; which earned her attention from boys quite early on. She had a few boyfriends growing up but mostly were those two day long elementary school relationships that meant nothing but it still gave Daniel a good panic every time she mentioned a new boy she was into. He was a tad protective. No boyfriends were really truly serious until she met Bradley at university orientation. Clementine fell hard for him and this allowed him to easily get her into the life of frat parties without a second thought from her. Soon, she was paying off classmates to write her essays or assignments for her while she could go out and party, but she would never tell her over-sensitive parents, especially Daniel who held his angel daughter on such a pedestal. She didn’t want to tarnish her little reputation.

That all changed when she discovered that Daniel wasn’t her biological father. They had such a close bond for her entire life that it truly felt like a slap in the face when the truth came out…or rather, when she pulled it out. It sent the fiery nineteen-year-old on a whole journey of self re-discovery in the worst way, her short temper and attitude pushed to the limits. But that will all be covered in detail in ABM2…

After university, when Clementine started her first internship at a law firm, she met Winston, a charming British exchange student who challenged her at work and adored her outside of the courthouse and Clementine came spinning home to her parents to tell them about her new boyfriend. “His name is Winston like Winston Churchill, Daddy! Winston and Clementine! Isn’t that amazing?!” She was twenty-two but so in love she was like a high schooler again. Winston was definitely her endgame.

For those of you interested in astrology, Clementine is a Capricorn Sun, Scorpio Moon, and Scorpio Rising.

She would move to Vancouver to be near the mountains if she could, although she loves her home city. Her favourite colour is orange (obviously), she has a soft spot for sappy romance films, and can eat a whole bucket of chicken wings in one sitting. Ironically, she doesn’t like the taste of clementine fruits but lives by them for her ‘aesthetic’.

Clementine’s songs are:

Clementine by Connie Francis

Ophelia by the Lumineers

Face Claims: 

Baby Clementine’s face-claim (ABM1 Era) is from @/mrsjessicaroberts on Instagram. These photos are not mine, all credit belongs to her

Teenage Clementine’s face-claim (ABM2 Era) is Michelle Wozniak (@/michelle.1 on Instagram). These photos are not mine, all credit belongs to her

[mojofun]

One Last Time (Sebastian Stan x OC)

So, this story is part of a fantastic writing challenge. I decided to partcipate, and this is the story I wrote about our one and only Sebastian Stan, based on the prompt “One last time”

Beware: tooth-rotting fluff ahead. Proceed with caution.

JK ;)

Give it a read if you want and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it; let me know what you think and shoutout to @kitkatd7 for launching this writing challenge. Check out their account if you want to participate :)

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Tess, darling, we need to go!>> A woman with curly caramel hair shouted, looking at a little girl who was having the time of her life on the swing.

The woman was smiling adoringly. It warmed her heart to see the child so happy, but she needed to go grocery shopping before the stores closed for lunchtime break

<<But mommy, I’m having so much fun!>> The kid protested with a pout, slowing down her movements until she came to a halt

<<Tess…>>

The poor mother trailed off when her daughter fixed her wide, innocent jade green eyes on her, pursing her lips. The woman sighed, brushing her daughter’s strawberry blond hair out of her small face

<<I can see you’re enjoying yourself my dear, but we need to go shopping. Besides, other children want to go on the swing, and it’s not fair for you to hog it>>

Tess flinched, lowering her head guiltily.

Then, she noticed a little boy that was standing a few feet from her, staring expectantly.

He wants to go on the swing, the little girl thought. Mommy was right

Determined to make up for her selfishness, Tess approached the other child bashfully

<<Hi! Sorry for not letting you have a go, I just… Lost track of time>>

The boy smiled reassuringly, shaking his head

<<No problem, don’t worry>>

<<Why didn’t you say anything?>>

He shrugged

<<You were enjoying yourself too much; I didn’t want to disturb you>>

<<Oh>>

The little girl blushed at that statement. She took in his appearance, from the baby blue eyes to the blondish-brown hair and adorable smile that he was still giving her.

It brought one to her face as well

He’s so nice

<<Thank you, that’s very sweet. Anyway, it’s your turn now>>

He beamed, thanking her before walking past her toward the coveted swing.

Suddenly, just when he was about to sit on it, he stopped and turned to face her again

<<Why don’t you go again?>>

<<What?>>

<<One last time>>

Tess gasped, amazed that a stranger was being so nice to her. Normally, kids were so selfish- the thought made her blush darken even more.

He’s so, so nice

<<Really? You don’t mind?>>

<<It’s ok: I’m spending the afternoon here, so I’ll have a lot of time to go on this swing>>

He shrugged again, still smiling at her.

Before she could register what was going on, Tess threw herself at the boy with her arms open, hugging him tightly

<<Thank you, thank you very much>>

A few moments went by before she realised what she’d done. She tried to disentangle herself, but he hugged her back before she could

<<You’re welcome. Now go, or your mom will make you leave>>

They pulled apart

<<Before I go, what’s your name?>>

<<Sebastian. Yours?>>

<<Tess. Nice to meet you, Sebastian>>

<<Right back to you, Tess>> He grinned at her, giving her a slight push <<Now go, hurry!>>

She ran back to the swing, smiling so much that her cheeks hurt.

<<Mommy, will we come back tomorrow?>> Tess asked her mother while they pulled over by the store. The woman chuckled

<<Of course, my dear. Why do you ask? Do you want to see that boy again?>>

For the third time that day, the blonde child felt her cheeks heat up in flames

<<Oh, darling, don’t be embarrassed>>

<<You’re mean>>

<<I’ll buy you some chocolate milk to make up for my teasing, alright?>>

The mother knew those were the magic words to get her daughter to smile again, and that’s what happened

<<Yes, thank you>>

<<You’re welcome, honey.

By the way, that boy was very kind to you. Did you get his name?>>

Her daughter grinned, nodding vehemently

<<It’s->>

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Sebastian Stan!>> Tess shouted, stomping inside the man’s apartment with a deadly glare.

The unaware offender was relaxing on his couch, watching tv. When she burst in he almost jumped to the ceiling, dropping the remote

<<Tess! What the hell?>>

<<You!>> She hollered again, threateningly pointing at him with her index <<You little->>

<<What did I do?>> He pleaded, confused and worried. She pushed a piece of paper against his chest with a huff

<<How could you just drop the invitation to your premiere at my apartment without even telling me?>>

Finally, the cause behind her temper was revealed. Sebastian deflated, feeling instantly relieved; so relieved in fact, that he laughed in her face.

Wrong move. His friend glared at him even more, bearing down on him

<<You think it’s funny, you airhead? I have nothing to wear! I need to get my hair done, and my nails, and->>

<<Sweetie>> The actor began, trying to calm her down with a smile and a soft pat to the back <<it’s fine>>

<<No it’s not. Us mortals need to->>

<<I know some people that can help you, don’t worry.>>

Just like that, Tess went from upset to flabbergasted

<<You do- You wa- What?>>

He tried to, he really did; he mustered all his abilities as an actor that he’d acquired through the years, but even that was not enough.

Thus, seeing his best friend so stunned, Sebastian couldn’t help bursting into hysterics, throwing his head back and plonking down on the couch

<<Your face! I wish I had a camera!>>

<<You suck>> She retaliated, no real hard feelings in her voice.

After a few minutes, during which the female enjoyed watching him laugh, he pulled himself together and took her hands in his

<<Darling, all will be ok; just trust me. Will you?>>

He received an eye-roll and a nod in response. Ignoring the former, he concentrated on the latter and stood up

<<Perfect. Let me get my phone, I’ll arrange everything. You sit back and relax>>

Tess snorted, reclining on the couch

<<Damn right you will: you got me in this pretty pickle, you’ll sort it out>>

<<You suck>>

<<You wish>> She teased with a wink

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Mr Stan, over here!>>

<<Mr Stan!>>

<<Sebastian, can I have a word?>>

Flashes were going off everywhere, but he didn’t mind anymore; he was used to it. The overwhelming attempts by reporters to interview him did not bother him much either, probably because he was distracted.

In fact, any observer would have noticed him staring at the road expectantly, anticipation oozing from his every pore.

He was waiting for Tess.

In the years after their encounter at the park, the two of them had become the best of friends. Both he and Tess began to ask their mothers to go back to the park with insistence, until it became a sort of tradition; the two women even exchanged numbers at some point, so they could organise playdates for the two kids.

Playdates.

That word made him shiver.

He was incredibly happy to have met the strawberry-blonde: she was an amazing friend, always there for him, supportive and ready to give him a kick where the sun don’t shine if he needed it. The thought of all their late-night conversations, her pep talks before his auditions, the number of times they went to the park -and on that very same swing- even as grown adults…

It brought a huge smile on his face.

He relished each and every memory, thankful to have in his life someone so amazing.

That’s why he was so mad at himself.

In fact, there was a not-so-small secret that he kept from his best friend: he’d fallen in love with her.

The actor was incredibly mad at himself, afraid to ruin a friendship he valued more than anything with a slip of the tongue; if it happened, he’d never forgive himself. Thus, he’d resorted to wallowing in his pain, settling for being her best pal rather than a stranger.

No matter his job, however, he continuously wondered how long his lie would last.

Every time it came to mind, he shivered.

Finally, another car nosed its way along the pavement before coming to a halt.

When the door opened, Sebastian felt his breath leave his lungs in a whoosh.

Was that vision really his Tess, the tomboy who preferred mud splashes to makeup? She was always beautiful, but that night… She was magnificent.

The dress she wore -which she’d kept from him until the last moment, much to his chagrin- was a splendid, shimmering black gown, with an extremely steep neckline that was offset by discreet, nude-coloured fabric decorated with small rhinestones; the slit in the skirt was vertiginous, and it showed her shapely leg and the black heels she’d chosen. With her waist-length hair curled in doll-like locks and blood-red lips on the lips that distracted him so often, she looked like a goddess straight out of his dreams.

The smile she gave him when their eyes met only reinforced that impression; he felt his heart flutter, watching her step closer to him

<<Sebastian! Hi, how are you?>>

<<Hi. I’m->> He harrumphed <<I’m good thanks. You look amazing tonight, by the way>>

Is that blush on her cheeks?

<<Thank you. You clean up nice too>> She whispered timidly.

He smiled at her, straightening his red tie and the lapels of the dark grey jacket he wore. Then, he offered her his arms

<<Shall we go, my lady?>>

The posh accent he used made her giggle; in reality, it was also due to his gallant gesture.

The young woman tried to mimic his pronunciation when gave him her arm and replied

<<Indeed, good sir>>

They went in the theatre together, laughing like the children they were.

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Thank you for the wonderful evening, Seb. I had a wonderful time>>

Tess murmured, standing on the steps of her apartment where he’d accompanied her.

The blue-eyed man looked at his best friend with a slight smile. In reality, he was fighting an internal battle. Namely, he was trying to suppress that nagging voice in the back of his head that screamed for him to just take her in his arms and kiss her

<<You’re welcome, doll; I’m glad you enjoyed the night>>

The blonde beauty giggled again

<<Doll, uh? Your character’s really getting to you>>

<<Don’t you like it?>> He purred with a smirk

<<I must admit I do, a lot. It’s better than munchkin anyway>>

<<Not my fault you are so short; even now you don’t reach my chin, and you’re wearing high heels>>

In response to his teasing, he received a playful whack on the shoulder with her purse

<<You suck>> She snorted.

<<You wish>> He chuckled too, fending off her numerous attempts to hit him again.

Their laughter died after a while, and they stood there in silence, staring into each other’s eyes. Seconds, minutes which seemed hours passed, but they stayed like that.

Suddenly, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

In the blink of an eye, Tess found herself enveloped in Sebastian’s strong arms; before she could ask what was going on, his lips found hers and he kissed her passionately, holding her tight against his body.

The brunette felt like he would burst, both for the affection he had for the woman he was currently kissing and for the shame he felt as he slowly pulled away, forcing his eyes open even if he didn’t want to see the revulsion on her face.

The sight in front of him made his blood run cold: she was petrified, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly agape.

Gulping, Sebastian tried to salvage what he could. Mentally cursing himself in every language he knew, he stuttered an apology

<<Tess, I’m sorry… I- I don’t know what came over me>>

<<…>>

This is it, he groused. This time I’ve done it; I destroyed our friendship. She’ll never want to see me again after this

<<Uh, Tess? Are you ok?>>

The woman was still silent, staring at him like he’d grown a third eye.

I would have preferred a reaction. Shouting, a slap in the face… Anything but this

Broken-hearted, the brown-haired man delicately cupped her cheeks in his hands, taking a steadying breath before speaking

<<Doll, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve had a major crush on you, for years now, and I…

It’s ok if you don’t feel the same, I don’t expect anything from you. I just… There’s one thing I want to do>>

The green-eyed woman was still unresponsive, and it only unnerved him further

<<I want to kiss you again. One last time>>

Not bothering to wait for a reply that would probably never come, Sebastian leaned in and pressed his lips against Tess’ red ones in the most delicate, romantic kiss either of them ever had.

It only lasted a moment though: he wasn’t brave enough to push her any further, no matter how much he wanted. Besides, it didn’t feel fair.

With a sigh that promised tears to come, the tall man gave her a sad smile before bidding her goodnight and turning to walk away.

He got as far as the gate before a flurry of black launched herself at him, effectively immobilising him

<<Seb! Don’t go, wait a second. I have something to say>>

He arched an eyebrow, trying to support the painting woman that was wobbling unsteadily on her heels

<<Damn, these things are hell to run in>>

<<I’m not sure they were made with that purpose in mind>> He joked, confused by her behaviour.

The young woman pulled herself together again and grinned at him, taking his face in her hands

<<First of all->>

His eyes grew the size of saucers when her lips found his for the third time that night. He didn’t fight it, both because he never would and he was paralysed at the moment. When she pulled away he saw her huge smile, and it puzzled him even more

<<I wanted to kiss you one last time too>>

Those few words broke him even more than he already was.

His expression must have been a clear sign of that, because the blonde was shaking her head and speaking again

<<One last time as friends. Because I want to kiss you as my boyfriend from now on>>

The world stopped. Sebastian stood there, trying to come to terms with what she told him

One last time as friends. Because I want to kiss you as my boyfriend from now on

Did that mean…

<<D- Doll… D- Does that mean->>

<<Yes, it does>> She hushed him, snickering at his disconcertment <<Now shut up and kiss me again>>

The smile that spread on his face was immense. Finally, the actor went back to his usual, jovial self and pulled her even closer, tenderly tucking a rebellious strand of her luscious mane behind her ear

<<With pleasure>>

Their lips met again.

This time though, it was different. This time they both knew what the other wanted and, most importantly, what the other wanted. This time they knew their love was reciprocated, and it made them smile in the kiss.

When they pulled away they both beamed at each other

<<My girlfriend>>

<<My boyfriend>>

<<I guess it was not the last time>>

<<In a way. But this was the first time>>

<<Mh, I want more; come here>>

They stood there, by the gate, kissing like there was no tomorrow; it was a way to make up for lost time, to soothe the hurt they’d unintentionally caused each other. It didn’t matter who’d waited the longest, who’d been the most oblivious or who made the first move. What did matter was that they were in love, and in love there is no space for last times.

@kitkatd7