#Choke Canyon State Park

[beaujuniperbooks]

An Ode to Texas State Parks

In Texas state parks, Where the wildflowers bloom, And the rivers flow, Nature's beauty consumes.

From the desert plains, To the lush green hills, The echoes of time, And the peace it instills.

[xzerosparrowx]

Here is another little excerpt from the current Steddie WIP that I've been writing. In this fic Eddie still lives with his parents. It's still in its draft stage, but I like the dialogue and the vibe.

In this excerpt, Eddie is getting Alan out of jail.

-

They walk down the familiar hallway, the familiar anti-drug posters, that one flickering ceiling light that needs to be replaced until they reach a set of cells. Alan is standing, swaying slightly with sweat beading on his upper lip, his right shoe missing and his threadbare shirt ripped at the collar. 

“Eddie, my boy! You know how awful it is to sleep in here? They don't give you a fucking pillow, gotta be against the Geneva Convention or some shit,” Alan rambles, his words slurring as if he was still drunk. Alan is sober, it's just how he sounds now. 

“Did you get into a fight, again?” Eddie asks, leaning against the wall opposite, crossing his arms over his chest as Hopper unlocks the cell door.

“Some fuckin’ yuppies thought they were better than me. Fuckin’ assholes,” Alan mumbles as he stumbles out of the cell, Eddie and Hopper following behind him back out the hallway.

“College kids, Alan tried to steal one of their wallets,” Hopper amends to Eddie.

“Allegedly, I allegedly tried to steal their wallet.”

It is completely dark when they step outside, the street lights casting its golden glow on the pavement beneath “where’s the fucking car?” Alan drawls, staring dumbly towards the parking lot, no van in sight.

“You and Beth crashed my car, remember?” Eddie sighs, too tired to snap at Alan, too tired to care about Hopper staring at him.

“You should probably get it fixed then,” Alan answers unhelpfully, staggering his way towards the nearest bus stop, leaving Hopper and Eddie to themselves. 

“You know, if he was my Dad, I wouldn’t be paying for his bail,” Hopper says quietly and Eddie feels a familiar flash of anger, the burning embers of shame at the pit of his stomach.

“Good thing he ain’t your Dad then,” Eddie snaps, pulling out a cigarette from the crumpled box in his pocket and shoving it between his lips. He clicks the lighter, swearing under his breath when he struggles to light his fucking cigarette, he just needs a fucking light. Just needs something to fucking work for him. 

 “Just don’t let your parents drag you down with them,” Hopper says, taking out his own lighter and handing it to Eddie. 

“Look,” Eddie lights his cigarette, hands it back to Hopper and puts his own lighter back in his pocket, “I appreciate the whole good cop routine, but don't condescend to me about my fucking life, ok?”

“Ok.” 

“Thanks for the light,” Eddie mumbles in lieu of saying goodbye, turning on his heel and walking to the bus stop where Alan is sitting.

Eddie stands near Alan and all he can think about is the cut of money that he was supposed to give to Rick, the groceries, the bus fare, the water bill, the repairs for his van, the repairs for the plumbing. He will have to use the money from his actual job to give Rick his cut, and will have to spend the week eating slices of bread and canned soup-.

“I fucked up, didn't I?” Alan asks, staring out across the street at nothing.

“I was supposed to give Rick his cut, but I paid for your bail instead. So yeah, you did fuck up,” Eddie drops his cigarette, squishing it underneath his foot just as the bus rounds the corner to the street.

“I don't know why I'm like this,” Alan chokes out, his voice thickening and face crumpling before Eddie.

Alan Munson had a job once, was normal for a brief period of time where he was able to afford a house and go on a family trip to another state at least once a year. Eddie has vague memories of those years, too young to remember the details of the Grand Canyon or the beaches in California, now immortalised in photographs. Eddie hates looking at those pictures now. Hates seeing Alan almost losing it just as much.

“It's ok Dad, I'll figure it out.”

[karma-view]

Now at Choke Canyon State Park

North west of Corpus Christi State Park, TX. T-Mobile service for my phone is 1 of 4 bars and ATT internet service is 1 of 4 bars so again not great out in the sticks but not a surprise. 02/19/23

-

Lake in the distance.

[mizar113]

Choke Canyon State Park.

[sarah-photographys-blog]

Sunset at the river

Choke Canyon State Park | Three Rivers, Texas

May 2019

[slippinmickeys]

Another Twitter prompt:

1. It was a weird thing to think, but it was odd that they'd put the new chemistry professor in Old Chem. The building -- cramped and dusty with an unreliable heating system -- hadn't actually housed the chemistry department in 35 years. It was now filled mainly with graduate students who either didn't mind that the clanking basement furnace would give up the ghost thrice every February, or just felt lucky to have office space and didn't complain. Dr. Fox Mulder, a tenured and often traveling research professor liked Old Chem, for what it was worth. Its bricks were the same orangey-red of the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon and it sat stalwart and proud on a rise above the river that purled through campus. The offices were small, and they lent everything in them -- from papers written in '82 to the newest state-of-the-art computers -- an aged patina that made you want to smoke a pipe and contemplate philosophy.

In any event, he never seemed to run into the new chemistry professor, even though his office was right next door.

2. One of the kids that rode on the same school bus route on the Vineyard had been a guy named Dana Dupree. He was five years older and a baseball star, and while Mulder hadn’t thought the kid was all that bright, he still worshipped him anyway, until the day Dupree graduated and Mulder never thought about him again.

He supposed that was why he thought the new professor was a man until she showed up at his door with a sheepish looking undergraduate he vaguely recognized from his Tuesday/Thursday lecture.

"I believe this may belong to you," said a caramel-soft voice from his doorway.

He looked up to see a short statured titch of a woman looking at him expectantly. Next to her was said undergraduate, who was hitching his backpack on his shoulder uncomfortably and looking anywhere but Mulder's face.

"Does it?" Mulder asked without standing.

"These are office hours, right?" the kid said, looking up through a thick hatch of shaggy hair.

Mulder looked at his watch. "Indeed they are," he said, and motioned for the boy to sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk -- the only one not covered in sheaves of paper and books. The kid slid into it and the woman in the doorway raised a hand and started to retreat into the hallway when Mulder said:

"And who do I have to thank for the saving of wayward students?"

The woman gave him a small, closed mouth smile that nevertheless reached all the way to her eyes.

"Dr. Dana Scully," she said, nodding at him and taking another step back. "Your new neighbor." With that she was gone.

3. He didn't see her again for almost a month. He was heading down the narrow back stairway that led from Old Chem's parking lot to the third floor hall of offices when he heard a forceful expletive followed by the sound of several light things hitting the floor. When he rounded the next landing, Dr. Scully was carrying an overfilled and close-to-disintegrating cardboard box and looking helplessly down at a wash of manila folders and dot-matrix printouts that were scattered across the floor and accordioning down three steps.

She was bending to put the box down when Mulder came trotting down the last few steps.

"Let me get that," he said, bending down to pick up the sheety detritus which he tapped into a neat stack.

"Thanks," she said, sounding reluctant to accept the help.

When he stood holding the papers out a little awkwardly, she gave him a grudging smile and he tucked the stack carefully into the box she now had balanced on her hip.

"Would you like help carrying all this up?" he asked, "I can get the box?"

"I can manage," she said, and Mulder thought she probably could -- she only had one more flight to go.

"Then at least let me get the doors," he said, bounding back up from the way he came, and seeing her safely to her office.

She gave him a small sideways glance as she unlocked the old Schlage, and when she fumbled with the keys, he reached out and wordlessly took the box from her hands so she could open the door. She gave a last hard shove with her shoulder and she was in, and he entered and put the box gingerly on her desk.

"Wow," he said, taking a look around the room. It was spotless and bright, airy in an effortless sort of way that was near impossible to find in the stuffy confines of Old Chem. "If Professor Abernathy saw this place, I think he'd want to move back in."

She smiled at him and he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a bright liquidly aqua, as cobalt as the Caribbean. His heart beat once, hard, then returned to its normal cadence.

"Then where would I go?" she asked, and he thought he detected maybe a hint of flirt.

"Next door," he offered, "it would be tight and wouldn't be good for much beyond a good game of Battleship, but wayward undergrads wouldn't get lost."

She laughed, a sheath of hair falling into her face, her locks the same color as the sandstone in Utah -- the same color as the bricks of Old Chem.

He felt something in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

4. He normally didn't stay this late, but his TA was out sick and he needed to get the grades turned in by noon the next day.

The moonlight coming through the single window in his office was pale and diaphanous, and it shone in a small rectangle on the grungy berber of his floor, the small desktop lamp illuminating only the papers in front of him.

There was a sharp knock on his door.

"It's open!"

It swung in to reveal Dr. Scully, holding a couple cartons of what looked like Chinese food and two paper-wrapped chopsticks packs, her face looking hesitant but hopeful, her hair a muzzy halo backlit by the fluorescents in the hallway.

"Your light is on a lot later than normal," she said, holding up the cartons, from which drifted the tangy waft of Pad Thai. "Thought you might need some sustenance."

His stomach gurgled in response.

“Partay,” he said, gesturing her in.

She smiled and shuffled in, setting a carton in front of him and the chopsticks on top.

“Apologies for the dimness, the overheads were giving me a headache,” he said, reaching behind him for the large pillar candles he kept in his office -- the building was notorious for losing power in the summer months, and he’d learned to be prepared. “Too weird to eat by candlelight?” he asked, fingering a lighter.

She shrugged and plopped down into the free chair across from his desk and folded her feet under herself, somehow looking cozy in the notoriously uncomfortable chair. He lit the candles and placed one on the desktop between them, unwrapping the chopsticks and rubbing the handles together. He considered her for a moment and she seemed to do the same.

“Do you always order for two?” he finally asked, opening the top of his container and letting the steam puff up gently around his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled dreamily. It smelled wonderful. She opened her own, deftly spearing a bean sprout and delicately nipping it in half. “It makes great leftovers,” she said, then expertly twirled a small bundle of noodles onto her own utensil and took a happy bite. “And I’ve been curious about you,” she finished around a mouthful of food.

“Me?” he asked, surprised. He shoveled in a mouthful with far less finesse and she chuckled at him.

“Yes,” she said, “you. The enigmatic Dr. Mulder. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Normally, he probably would have said something like oh really? and then made a smartass comment about her spying on him, but something held him back. Instead he said, “...what do you want to know?”

She looked at him, chewing thoughtfully. The candlelight gave her a fresh-faced look, her skin dewy and glowing. She had cupid’s bow lips, the color of overripe raspberries. A thought flashed through his head that they would probably taste as good as they looked.

“How long have you been tenured?”

“Five years.”

“Undergrad?”

“Oxford.” She raised an impressed eyebrow.

“Married?”

He choked and covered for it by coughing. She was still looking at him earnestly, expecting an answer.

“Ah,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Almost.”

“Narrowly avoided the institution?” He felt like he was being interviewed by a seasoned criminologist. She was unruffled and laser focused. Normally he would have had sirens going off in his head by now, abort! abort! but he was into it. Really into it.

“Narrowly avoided the spouse .” She grinned and took another bite and he decided to lob one back at her. “Why, you in the market?”

She looked at him levely, chewing no faster or slower than before. When she swallowed, he kept his eyes on the elegant column of her neck, watching her throat work.

“I’m a professor of chemistry, Dr. Mulder,” she said, quirking one eyebrow in a way that charmed him even more. “I’d never rule out adhesion.”

5. It was a tempest. A Goddamn tempest, and it had come rushing off the plains and, propelled by the jet stream, roaring into campus with the force of a freight train. He was halfway to the building that held his evening lecture when the wind picked up, and he was just passing Old Chem when the rain came. A torrential downpour that would have felled even the strongest umbrella. A streak of lighting followed immediately by the crash of thunder and he darted into the Old Chemistry building just to escape it. He was standing in the small foyer looking out the small beaded window panes in the old oak doors -- there were still a few students darting haphazardly into random buildings -- when his phone dinged. He pulled it out of his pocket.

UNIVERSITY EMERGENCY ALERT -- STORM WARNING -- STAY INDOORS -- ALL EVENING CLASSES CANCELLED

Sighing, he turned to head into his office to wait out the storm. He was thinking he had lab results in his briefcase he could probably go over when the power suddenly -- though perhaps not surprisingly -- went out. He drifted up the stairs to his office in the uncomfortable beam of the stairwell’s emergency light box, the bulbs shining brightly in two different directions like some kind of demented wall-eyed robot.

When he got to his door, he saw a small light flitting about the office next to his, then heard a thud and a muffled curse. He knocked lightly.

“Everything all right in there?” he called out.

The door was flung open and a frazzled-looking Dr. Scully stood before him, the too-bright glow of her cell phone flashlight pointing somewhere around his belt buckle.

“Hi,” she said, then rather needlessly added, “the power is out.”

“Welcome to Old Chem,” Mulder said with a trace of sarcasm, just as another flare of lightning highlighted her dressed-down outfit. Unusually, she was wearing jeans, a white tank top that rather nicely showcased the twin pillows of her decolletage and an old chambray shirt, shirtsleeves rolled to her elbows, unbuttoned in the front.

“My phone is about to die and I can’t find my portable charger,” she went on, a bit flustered, “and I also can’t see a god damned thing. If I was near my lab I could probably improvise some kind of glow stick, but I’m… not,” she finished lamely.

“You want some help?” he offered, setting down his briefcase in the hallway. There was an emergency light at the far end, but its light barely reached them. They were mainly highlighted in the red glow of the Exit sign that hung from the ceiling just to their left.

“I was actually on my way out. I give up. I can charge it in my car.”

He’d just noticed that her laptop bag was slung over one shoulder. A crash of deafening thunder shook the building.

“I, uh, wouldn’t go out right now,” he said, holding up the emergency alert on his phone, “it’s biblical out there.” Her shoulders slumped. “Come into my office,” he went on, digging his keys out of his pocket, “I don’t have Pad Thai, but I still have those candles.”

She smiled and he flushed a bit at the memory. It had only been a week and a half ago. She’d been pretty forward, and he’d been about to ask her out when the janitorial crew came rolling down the hallway. They’d quickly emptied the trashcans in the various offices on the floor, but when they kick-started the industrial floor polisher out in the hallway, Mulder had been fairly sure his window had closed.

She passed by him while he held open the door, and was forced to back herself up to the wall so he could squeeze by a moment later to get to the pillar candles and lighter he kept on top of his file cabinet. Their hips grazed ever so slightly as he brushed by her and he caught a heady whiff of her perfume, a spicy, floral scent studded with hints of white musk and bergamot. He had to keep himself from leaning into her to get another sniff.

“You want to have a seat?” he asked, indicating the guest chair.

“Not on your life,” she laughed, “it took three PIlates classes to work out the kink in my back from the last time.”

“Take mine,” he said, and settled himself into the chair across the desk, shifting to try to get comfortable.

After several moments she let out an undignified guffaw and stood.

“Come on,”she said, still chuckling as she rose from his office chair, “let’s go into my office. We’ll be a lot more comfortable.

Slightly chagrined, he grabbed the candles and followed her obediently. She had two nice looking chairs sitting side by side with a small, tasteful side table in between them, and they both settled in.

“Well,” she said, looking at the candles, “this is romantic.”

He chuckled.

“Any idea how long this is supposed to last?” she asked, nodding toward the small window. The sun hadn’t quite set, but the sky was a frightening velvety grey and the branches on the ancient maples outside Old Chem were bending sideways in the thrash.

Mulder pulled up a NOAA app on his phone.

“Radar shows three cells coming through,” he said, pinching the screen to get a bigger picture. “One on top of the other.”

She smirked at the innuendo, but made no move to do or say anything. He tossed the phone on the desktop next to a candle.

“Well,” she said, “any chance you’re up for a game of Battleship?”

XxXxXxXxXxX

She’d actually bought one. He was delighted when, from under her desk, she pulled out a brand new, still-in-the-cellophane, honest-to-god game of Battleship. They were twenty minutes into their second game and she was absolutely handing him his ass.

“How are you so good at this?” he asked her, after he put the last red peg into his submarine.

She studied her board.

“My father was a naval officer,” she said, not looking up, “a Captain when he retired. He was gone a lot. As a kid I would play this game with anyone who would play with me. Even the old lady next door. It made me feel closer to him.”

“Where does he live now?” Mulder asked, then, “C8.”

“Miss,” she said, “He and Mom are in Maryland. B12.”

“Hit. Any siblings?”

“Three.”

“E1?”

“Miss. You?” she asked. “B11.”

“A sister,” he answered, then leaned back and sighed. “You sunk my battleship.

She smiled victoriously. “You giving up?”

“I know when I’ve been bested,” he said.

He looked out the window at the storm as he helped her pack up the game. There was a brief lull in the weather while one cell moved off and another moved in. One of the trees in the diag out her window had been uprooted by the wind and was leaning into one of its compatriots like a soldier limping off the battlefield.

“It’s been nice being stuck here with you,” she said, finally leaning back.

“I’m glad,” Mulder said, nodding to the window, “because we may end up being stuck here all night.”

She put her thumbnail in her mouth and tilted her head. “I can think of worse things.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, swallowing hard.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think you should ask me out.”

He felt himself flush. Again. “If I asked, what would we do?”

“Drinks,” she said, “dancing. Maybe see where the night takes us.”

He nodded at her, considering. He briefly bit the inside of his cheek. “Will you go out with me?” he finally said.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “When?”

He stood. “Right now,” he said, getting a flash of inspiration, a jagged line of lightning streaking outside the window. “Stay right there.”

The candles sputtered as he swung open her office door. The dim red from the Exit sign gave just illumination for him to go into his own office and pull out the bottom drawer of his desk. When he returned, she was sitting up, intrigued. On her desk he deposited a bottle of Lagavulin and two small rocks glasses.

“You like Scotch?” he asked.

She nodded, smiling. He returned her smile and poured her a finger. He did the same and held it up in salute.

“To our first date,” he said.

“Slainte,” she said, tapping her glass into his own and then taking a slow sip, her eyes never leaving his.

The spirit was as smooth as high C, but burned its way down his esophagus, filling his belly with the warm haze of nerve.

He reached for his phone, which was still sitting on top of her desk, swiping and tapping until the soulful purl of Nina Simone’s Feeling Good began to leak through the tiny speakers. He upped the volume so that the sound of the singer’s velvet voice swelled over the roar of the rain outside, set down his glass and held out his hand to her. She took a large swallow, almost finishing what was in her glass, and set it down next to his, taking his hand. He pulled her to him.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, pressing his hand into the amati curve of her back. There wasn’t much room in the small office, certainly not enough for a good dance, but if they swayed, turning in place like a couple of kids at an eighth grade dance, it would get the job done.

She canted her face up to his, blinking slowly. “Yes,” she said in a voice as low as his had been, and then pressed her head to his chest. He pulled her in even more, pulling their clasped hands in close.

She fit perfectly into the lee of him, and something just felt right about it as she settled in, sighing contentedly. It was like a key sliding into the right lock. Click .

The song was over before either of them were ready for it to be. Mulder didn’t move as the brassy sound of the big band faded into nothingness. He scarcely even breathed. Dr. Scully shifted in his arms, but made no move to step back. After a moment, he worked up the nerve to look down at her and found her looking right back.

“What happens next?” he muttered, tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

“Next?” she said, voice barely a whisper. “We see where the night takes us.”

[hooniee]

— ꒰‧⁺wingwomen layla *ೃ༄

↷ jake x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷genre: fluff | romance ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷warnings: none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

♡ ::hi idk if requests are open but if they are could i request jake accidentally confessing to his crush bc i feel like he’d do that 🧍🏽‍♀️ty 😭😭💘

⇢˚⋆ ✎ hello buttercup! thank you so much for requesting and i can vividly imagine jake doing that too😭😭 please enjoy <333

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

you were strolling in the park after school as a destresser. nothing happened today, just some extra assignments to be crammed in the upcoming nights. seems like your dark circles will be more profound than the grand canyon.

it was autumn, leaving the shades of the leaves to mature. it was a beautiful view to see. many people take nature for granted but you enjoyed to get a breath of fresh air when you could.

autumn was a personal favorite season of yours and many others. nicely in the middle of not too cold and not too hot. you weren’t freezing to death or mosturized in sweat as gross as it sounds. autumn was the balance.

the breeze managed to catch up with you and you were blissfully bundled in a hoodie over your outfit. nothing was more satisfying than being enveloped in a fuzzy sweatshirt.

you held on to the straps of your backpack, as you puffed in the crisp air. you slightly cough and shiver at the cool air that coated your lungs.

you could see a crowd of people in the playground. kids playing on the swings, parents conversing, couples coming out for a date, students who just got out of school. the park was the perfect place.

you gaze to the sky, feeling a light breeze pass by and the trees sway. some leaves shimmy down, making their way down in an assortment of colors.

as you were quietly roaming, you noticed a dog walking towards you.

the dog was medium-size, had light golden fur and floppy ears. you know you shouldn't really touch stray dogs, especially if they don't have their owner but you were a curious person and it was so cute! how could you resist?

you smiled and approached the dog. you made sure to approach it in slow steps so you don’t scare it off and it doesn’t attack you.

seeing that you and the dog were okay being near each other, you bend down to its height. the dog sticks it’s tongue out as you softly pet it, taking note to examining the collar.

the collar was a deep maroon color with a heart charm on it that had the name “layla” printed on it.

'what a pretty name,' you thought to yourself.

"hi layla, are you lost?" you talk to her and she whimpers. she swiftly tends into your pets and you giggle.

"alright let's try to find your owner layla," you stand up, wishing leila would follow and she did.

you browsed around the park, attempting to see anybody who seemed like they were searching for somebody.

you saw a couple, making out on the bench of the park. not a pleasant sight for you or layla.

kids were spontaneously playing tag, squealing once they got tagged. you feel nostalgic, remembering the feelings of adrenaline when being the tagger.

then your eyes fall on a boy with soft chestnut hair. he was of ordinary height and you could barely see his eyes due to his hair being in the way but his moves were in frantic motions.

'bingo'

"come on layla! i think i found your owner," you say as she trails behind you.

you tap on the boy's back and he turns to you. your mouth almost drops as his familiar face sets in.

you recognize him as he went to your school.

jake sim, year 3 class 1-2, popular, friends with sunghoon and jay, plays soccer and the violin, placed top in AP physics and AP calculus. he was well known in your school and you can't lie and say you don't find him charming.

he was everything any person could dream of. athletic, smart, handsome, talented, a sweetheart, just the whole california roll.

"(y/n)?" he tilts his head when he sees you.

you are taken aback when his name slips out of your mouth. you guys went to the same school but you never interacted with one another. the closest you have gotten to him was attending his soccer game to see your friend, jay.

"you know me?"

"well yeah, you're my crush-" jake spits out before his eyes widen as he understood what he said.

you audibly gasps at the sudden confession. jake sim just said he had a crush on you. did he just admit to you that he liked you?

he put his hand over his mouth, glancing down at his feet. you could see the tips of his ears grow redder by the second and you attempt to stifle a laugh.

he catches a glimpse of layla and he disregards his confession. he finally found layla after an hour searching for her. he quickly kneels down, hugging leila.

"oh my gosh, layla! i thought i lost you, you can't do that again," jake scolds her. layla pants before nudging at your leg.

you laugh, stooping down to pet her. you only met layla today and you were already attached to her as she was to you.

"we found your owner layla," you talk to her, scratching behind her ear. you realize jake is standing there and you quickly stand up.

you smile at him and he returns the gesture. besides awkward smiles, there is a heavy stillness before jake decides to break it. he didn’t want to make a bigger fool of himself in front of his crush.

"thank you for finding layla," jake bows his head. he was happy that you were the one who found her and not some creepy, old man.

you shake your hands, feeling flustered at his formal tone and gestures. you didn’t do much, “no it was nothing jake!"

his heart was on cloud nine. the way you said his name was the melody he could have on repeat. no interactions were needed between the two of you and jake was whipped, admiring you from afar ever chance he got.

he retorts your question, "you know my name?"

you look at him with a raised eyebrow, "of course, everybody knows you! who doesn’t know our school angel? and plus you just confessed to me."

jake, the school angel, had gone redder than a tomato at the playfulness at your tone.

the rosy hue rises to his cheeks as he looks down, fiddling with his fingers, "i hope that this doesn’t make things awk-“

he quickly rushed to explain himself, even if this ruined the chances of you dating him, he wanted to at least be your friend. he could deal with being in the friend zone.

you try to hold a smile in at his cute, flustered state. you have never seen jake so shy. you decided that it wouldn’t be so bad to take a shot with him and to set a proposal for him.

"how about you take me on a date? we'll get to know each other and who knows? we could be a couple," you tease.

jake’s heart leaped out of his chest the second time today, two more times than the average person does daily. jake is pretty sure that you can hear his heart running a cross country tournament right now.

"a-are you serious?" jake chokes out.

he almost slaps himself for stumbling over his words but he couldn’t help it. the person who he had been crushing on just gave him a chance.

the chance to be your boyfriend. he couldn’t mess this up.

"i mean, you're cute and layla is too," you smile. you were saying this to ease the tension but we all know who you thought was the cuter one.

"i'll see you tomorrow jake," you wink to him before walking away, leaving him astonished.

as you turned around, your whole cool demeanor changed into a flustered one. since when did you get so brave? you just got your first date and it’s with jake sim.

sim was the perfect last name for jake as he stood their in astonishment like a sim. not knowing how to react, he takes a minute or two to recollect himself before he looks to layla.

"layla, you just scored me a date"

[hoodedmenace]

@buckleyup

   It takes about fourteen hours to Jason to drag his weary bones across the continent.

   Leaving straight from Gotham is a no-go, not in the state it’s in, and Jason isn’t about to ask Bruce for a private jet; it’s easier to drive down to Jersey and charter a private plane there, paying just enough money where no one will ask him what’s in his bag, the content of which he debated leaving altogether in Gotham anyway.

   Ultimately, he doesn’t.

   He doesn’t toss the suit, or the sword, and he doesn’t text Dick and he doesn’t call Buck.

   Part of him isn’t even sure what direction he wants to walk in when he touches down in California, if maybe a stroke of depression will will him away into the desert canyons. That’ll be a first for him. He always hides away in the cities, among the skyscrapers, between the alleyways—they’re familiar and feel like home, but for once he doesn’t really want to be reminded of home, of how much it’s stripped from him, how badly it’s left him wanting and hoping.

   It could be a thing, driving out into the middle of the desert and laying out on the hood of a car with the stars blanketed above with no one around for miles.

   It’s hot when he lands—nearly a hundred degrees before the day even hits noon, and his phone pings with an alert for an excessive heat warning. If he hadn’t spent the last week choking on Gotham smog and smoke and chaos, he might’ve choked. Doesn’t keep him from feeling like the tarmac is going to burn him alive though.

   He nearly talks himself into running twice—the first time is in the back of an taxi, the driver asking him where he wants to go. It’s only a half hour to the city center, back to the penthouse, but the thought of coming back to that emptiness alone makes him recoil.

   Then he remembers that Buck has Sheila and it’d be rude to just... leave that without a word, no matter how much he wants to run from everything right now. He already left Dick in Gotham. Ran from nightmares he would have rather put bullets into.

   So Jason adjusts the cap on his head and pushes his sunglasses up and leans forward to tell the driver the address, deciding to deal with whatever comes out of him when he gets back h—

   The second time is out on the sidewalk, the apartments entryway beckoning him with the palm grasses that arch towards the door. He could turn away right now. Just. Walk somewhere else. Somewhere where he doesn’t have to bring himself to someone who doesn’t need it.

   Sheila is the one who greets him at the door first. He doesn’t call to ask if Buck is home, or try to hunt his car down in the parking garage—the walk to the elevator happens in a blurred haze that he can’t see through, and he moves by memory alone, lured by the sudden excited sounds of barking from the door at the end of the hall. Sheila never barks. She must smell him, which is ridiculous, because he probably smells like ash and smoke and decay and not anything remotely familiar, or anything work bowling over into the floor the second he unlocks the door. She seems... bigger, somehow, or maybe it’s just that he feels smaller, flattened onto his back with Sheila plastered over him, her barks quieting down to soft, happy whines as she covers his face with licks.

   He is not going to cry.

   He is not going to fucking cry on the floor of a residential fucking building in the middle of the hall.

   “Girl—down—”

[scythian-andromache]

is it really a road-trip if you don't stop at a 7-Eleven?

A ‘The Old Guard’ gen fic that is a companion piece to this fic, but can be read solo

Also available on [AO3]

Summary:  In the middle of a road-trip, the Old Guard Immortals make a stop at a 7-Eleven. A lot of bickering ensues, but that's what happens when you take road-trips with your family.

***

It’s been two hours since they got into the shootout, which brings their Days Without An Incident count (previously at four) back to zero.  

That was on them, a stupid mistake that’s put something of a damper on their road-trip (end goal: Grand Canyon, but who knows if they’ll actually make it there before something goes horribly wrong). Since then, they’ve been driving steadily westward. It’s nearly two in the morning, but Andy is (still) driving, and the rest of them are in various states of dozing—or as much as one can doze when Andy’s driving.

“Fuck, we’re getting low on gas.” Andy says this out loud like it’s a surprise, like there isn’t a gauge on the dash with the sole purpose of keeping the driver apprised of the gas levels.  

“This is the last exit for thirty miles,” Joe says absently, eyes closed and feet propped up. They’re also, by all rights, past the acceptable merge point.

In response, Andy swerves across two full traffic lanes and cuts off the only other driver on the road to pull off the exit ramp, not bothering to stop at the stop sign and careening across the road and into the 7-Eleven’s parking lot.

Booker lets out several extremely creative swears in a mix of French and English. “Jesus, Andy, there are traffic laws; please follow at least one of them,” he groans.

“My headlights are on,” says Andy, like that settles it, and Booker swears again.

“If not for us, then for you! You’re not invulnerable anymore!”

Andy rolls her eyes. “My driving has never gotten a single one of us killed.”

Booker makes a face that clearly indicates he’s skeptical of that answer, but whatever he’s working up to is interrupted by a new voice in the conversation.

“Nile could take over for a little bit,” suggests Nicky, blearily clearing sleep from his eyes.

“Nile doesn’t even have a license right now,” Booker shoots back, exasperated.

“Nile doesn’t even have a birth certificate right now,” grumbles Nile from where she’s squished between them. “The only thing I’m legally classified as is a problem.” Quỳnh laughs from where she’s laying—apparently not asleep—in the very back, among their duffle bags. No seatbelt, but far more room than Nicky, Nile, and Booker have, all crammed in together on the bench seat not really meant for three.

Nicky, meanwhile, ignores Nile’s comment, looking directly at Booker as he asks combatively, “And whose fault is that?”

“Oh, come on,” says Booker. “I haven’t had time to forge a new identity for her!”

Nicky says something under his breath in Italian and Booker flings open the car door and stalks toward the bright beacon of the convenience store.

“I’m getting snacks, Joe,” says Nicky, and follows. Joe gets out and opens the hatch to check their supply of baklava—not that the 7-Eleven off I-40 is the spot to replenish it—and Andy exchanges a few words with Quỳnh, while Nile sighs and starts pumping gas. After a few moments, Andy and Joe head inside too.

“You don’t want anything?” asks Nile, peering into the car to check on Quỳnh.

“Joe will buy more snacks than he needs in case Nicky wants them, and then I will steal them from them both,” says Quỳnh, a mischievous smile on her face, and Nile can’t help but laugh. They had a rough start, her and Quỳnh, but they get along pretty well now.

“Fair enough,” Nile says, as she returns the pump to its hook.

“Maybe a pair of earplugs,” Quỳnh muses, as an afterthought. “To drown out their relentless bickering. The only thing I miss about the ocean is the peace and quiet,” she deadpans, and Nile almost chokes on her gallows humor.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Nile says, and pulls the car around before heading inside herself.

They’re all still bickering when she gets inside—of course they are. Immortals, with more years between them than the populations of whole towns, and they’re still children. She heaves a long-suffering sigh—it’s self-care, okay?—and says, “We’re all gassed up and ready. Everyone got their snacks?”

“Not quite,” says Joe, and then tells Booker—in English, this time—to let him drive. Damn, they’re still on that?

Nile lets them be, looking around a little for some earplugs for Quỳnh, until she hears their voices raise, and Booker practically yells, “—and we got stuck behind Soviet borders for a MONTH.”

Shit. She glances over at the cashier, who looks entirely too interested in this particular conversation. For all their talk of laying low, they can be pretty bad at it, sometimes. Sighing again, she sashays over to the counter, throws on her most charming smile and says, in an effort to disrupt whatever train of thought is mentally calculating how they could possibly have been detained behind Soviet borders, “Hi! I was wondering if you had any earplugs?”

They do not have earplugs, and she tries to keep him distracted, but it backfires a little, because she’s forgotten she’s still wearing the same clothes from the shoot up—they all are—and the cashier (Andrew, his name-tag says) has noticed.

“Costume party,” she says, a lame excuse, but the best she’s got, and she’s about to talk about how their theater friend does really extravagant murder-mystery parties when the rest of them decide they’re done bickering, and drop all their shit on the counter.

Andy gives the cashier the iciest look Nile’s seen from her in at least three days, and the poor kid hops to, ringing in enough candy to send their bodies pre-diabetes until they reboot again.

Joe, Nicky, and Andy all head out, leaving her and Booker to finish up the transaction, and then Booker—that absolute dipshit—drops a hundred euro note on the counter instead of USD.

“Idiot,” Nile hisses in French, elbowing him and fishing money out of her out wallet. She pockets the euro note (serves him right) and grabs their bags.

“Keep the change,” she says to the cashier, and uses her free hand to pinch Booker’s arm hard (“Ow!”) and steer him out of the shop. They slide into the back seat of the waiting car (Andy, unfortunately, is still driving), and it skids off before the door is even fully closed.

“Y’all need to work on your subtlety,” says Nile, glancing back at the gas station, where the cashier is standing in the door, staring after them. “Or at least have your arguments in French. That kid was listening to everything.”

Andy waves a hand dismissively—unfortunately, it also happens to be the hand that was holding the wheel and the car swerves—and says, “We’ll send a text to Copley. He can wipe the footage. What’s one more convenience store after a bloodbath?”

“Yeah? You also gonna wipe that kid’s brain?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, and he’s a nobody,” says Booker.

“I was a nobody,” hisses Nile. “You can’t just…discount people like that. That kid could become the next Kozak or the next Copley, or someone just like them could see him as collateral damage when they try to find us.”

“You are right, Nile.” It’s Nicky who says it. “It is easy to let people blur together, to believe them inconsequential, but it’s a poor mentality to have. We will be more careful.”

“That’s all I ask,” says Nile, softly. The car lapses into silence for a few moments until Joe asks for his Twizzlers, and all of a sudden there’s bickering over who bought what snacks.

Quỳnh somehow ends up with a pair of Twinkies and the Flaming Hot Cheetos, and just gives Nile a little wink over the back of the seat when Nicky says, “Booker, did you steal some of my Twinkies?”

Booker makes an indignant noise in the back of his throat, flashes his bar of chocolate, and says, “You couldn’t pay me to eat that garbage!”

Nile laughs into her iced tea, and then looks up and accidentally makes eye contact with Andy in the rear-view mirror. She’s got an amused smile playing around her mouth, everything in her expression telegraphing her fondness, and also her exhaustion.

“Let me drive for a while,” Nile says, over the argument happening between Booker and Nicky (“Don’t call them garbage, a Twinkie is just a petite madelaine with a little cream in it.” / “How dare you even utter Twinkie and petite madelaine in the same breath!”)

“You don’t have a license,” says Andy, although it’s a weaker protest than it had been before they stopped at the gas station.  

“Oh, come on. Like that’s gonna make a difference. Like you’re really gonna show a license to the police if they pull you over for a traffic violation.”

“I—”

“You need sleep, Andy. Pull the fuck over.”

To the astonishment of the whole car, Andy does. Well, except for—

“Ha!” whoops Nicky gleefully, leaning around Nile to get a better look at Booker. “Pay up!”

“Nile stole my euros,” says Booker grumpily.

“No. Uh-uh. Don’t make this about me,” says Nile, as everyone shifts around to accommodate the change in drivers. “I know you have more. And besides, I spent $100 at the store.”

“You were the one that told him to keep the change, and besides, a hundred euros is ten dollars more than a hundred dollars.”

“It was $87 and I was just trying to get us the fuck out of there. And consider it a dumbass tax, for trying to give him euros in the first place,” says Nile, and the car erupts in cackles.

“Everyone good?” She checks the rear-view mirror as she pulls back onto the highway: Andy has climbed into the very back to stretch out (snuggle) with Quỳnh; Joe and Nicky are shifting around in the back seat; and Booker is sitting shotgun next to her.

“I’m not,” complains Nicky. “Booker still hasn’t paid me.”

Booker says something under his breath, but digs his wallet out of his pocket and fishes a fifty euro note out, passing it back to Nicky.

“Grazie,” he says, waving the note to Joe like it’s a trophy.

Booker huffs. “Prego, è stato un piacere, va’ all’inferno!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” says Nicky pleasantly. “I have a papal indulgence.”

That draws raucous laughter from both Joe and Quỳnh, and for all that he puts on the air of being grumpy, Nile sees Booker’s smirk from the corner of her eye.

They all settle down pretty quickly after that; it has been a long day, after all. They’re the only car on the road, and the miles disappear into the inky black night quickly as they fly down I-40. The next time Nile glances into her rear-view mirror, she sees that Andy and Quỳnh have tucked themselves into each other, and Joe is leaning into Nicky, arms half around him as they doze together.  

Only Booker, slouched in the seat next to her, remains awake. “You can go to sleep, Book,” she says, easy.

“Nah,” he says, “someone must stay awake with the driver.”

She doesn’t take his statement at face value, but she doesn’t challenge him on it either. “Well,” she says lightly, “then you’re the DJ. Find us something good.”

Booker leans forward and turns the radio on low. The opening strains of a Depeche Mode song drift from the speakers, and Booker hisses. “English bastards with a French name,” he says, but tellingly doesn’t change the channel. He must secretly like this song.

As the song fades out and the opening chords of another song thrum, Nile looks over to find that Booker, too, has drifted off, but Nile finds she doesn’t mind. She’s surrounded by her ridiculous family, finally taking a break, and she’s got this. She turns her attention back to the highway, focusing on the thrum of the engine and the soft strains of the music and the peacefulness of an empty road, as they move ever closer to their next adventure.

***

fin.

***

~Twizzlers are halal! ~grazie = thanks ~Prego, è stato un piacere, va’ all’inferno! = (roughly; I am not a native speaker) “yeah, you’re welcome, my pleasure, now go to hell” (PS: Italian has all kinds of fun, creative, extremely dirty swears. Soooo even though Booker technically says "go to hell", it's fairly mild. Nicky's still salty at Booker but not salty enough to take it seriously.) ~There really was a papal edict offering indulgences to those partaking in the crusades. Nicky 100% exploits this.

***   

[myhauntedsalem]

Bizarre Deaths

Death is everywhere and can visit us at any time. This is no more evident than in these examples of death coming from the most unexpected of sources.

Death is the inevitable end to everyone’s story. We spend most of our lives avoiding it, hoping we will die well into old age without pain or suffering. Yet sometimes death has other, more unusual plans for us, providing strange but timely reminders of our own mortality.

There are lots of strange ways to die, but here are ten examples of really bizarre deaths that came from the most unexpected of sources.

1. DEATH BY BEARD

Having the world’s longest beard certainly comes with its complications. For Hans Steininger, these complications ended in his death. During a fire in town, Steininger hurriedly retreated and forgot to pick up his beard. The beard got tangled in his feet and he fell awkwardly, breaking his neck and killing him.

2. DEATH BY JURY DEMONSTRATION

A lawyer by the name of Clement Vallandingham was attempting to prove his client’s innocence during his trial in 1871. The client was on trial for murder, but Vallandingham believed that the victim had actually shot himself and was not murdered. In court, he showed the jury how he believed the victim killed himself, but apparently forgot to check the chamber. Vallandingham shot himself and ultimately died in front of the court.

3. DEATH BY NECKLACE BOMB

This has to be the story behind the film 30 Minutes or Less because it is remarkably similar; albeit much less funny and more deadly. Pizza deliveryman Brian Well was apprehended during a bank robbery but claimed that it wasn’t as it seemed. Police didn’t believe his story that he had been forced to rob a bank by a group of people he had delivered pizza to. He warned them that he had a bomb around his neck, but it seems they just wouldn’t listen. Wells was killed when the necklace exploded.

4. DEATH BY SWIMMING POOL DRAIN

Abigail Taylor died 9 months after several of her internal organs were partially sucked out of her lower body while she sat on an excessively powerful swimming pool drain. Surgeons replaced her intestines and pancreas with donor organs but unfortunately, the 6-year-old girl died from a rare transplant-related cancer.

5. DEATH BY SHEEP

Betty Stobbs was attempting to feed her sheep one afternoon when things went horribly wrong. She loaded a bale of hay onto her motorcycle and took it to where she kept her sheep. When she got there, the excited sheep ran after her and knocked her and her motorcycle into a canyon. The fall didn’t kill her, but the motorcycle landing on her head did. While the sheep were certainly culpable in the death, admittedly this may technically be more of a death by motorcycle situation.

6. DEATH BY HOARDING

Homer and Langley Collyer had a problem throwing things away. They were bonafide hoarders and their house was filled with junk. Eventually, the junk around their house took control and the two were found dead, buried beneath their pounds and pounds of junk.

7. DEATH BY ROBOTS

They’re coming! They already got one of us! Truth be told, this appears to be more of a negligence death rather than a sci-fi murderous robot. Robert Williams was working at a Ford casting plant when he stepped into the line of fire to remove a faulty part. One of the robotic arms activated and smashed him in the head, killing him.

8. DEATH BY ELEVATOR

Dr. Hitoshi Christopher Nikaidoh was decapitated as he stepped on to an elevator at Christus St. Joseph Hospital in Houston, Texas in 2003. According to witnesses, the elevator doors closed as Nikaidoh entered, trapping his head inside the elevator with the remainder of his body still outside. A subsequent investigation revealed that improper electrical wiring installed by a maintenance company several days earlier had effectively bypassed all of the elevator’s safeguards, enabling it to move under any circumstances.

9. DEATH BY ORANGE PEEL

Daredevil Bobby Leach stared death in the face many times. He was the second person history to ever survive his fall from Niagara Falls in a barrel. He probably assumed that he would die during one of his stunts, but his death came in a much less exciting manner. While walking down the street in New Zealand, Leach stepped on an orange peel his feet went out from underneath him. He broke his leg and was taken to the hospital, but later died due to complications.

10. DEATH BY CACTUS

David Grundman and his buddy were having a grand-old-time shooting cacti in a desert one evening in 1982. When the 26-foot-tall cactus was shot, it fell and crushed Grundman, avenging its fallen cactus brothers. ____________________________________

Take a look at some of Some more most bizarre deaths

1. Death By Turtle In 455 BC, the Greek author Aeschylus was supposedly killed when an eagle dropped a turtle on his skull. 2. Death By Beard In 1567, Hans Steininger was killed upon breaking his neck. The accident occurred after he tripped on his own beard, which was 4.5 ft long! 3. Death By Food In 1771, King Adolf Frederick of Sweden died after he consumed a massive meal. The meal consisted of lobster, caviar, sauerkraut, kippers, champagne and 14 servings of desert. 4. Death By Effective Defense Strategy In 1871, a defense attorney, Clement Vallendigham, from the great state of Ohio passed away after shooting himself. He did so whilst demonstrating that the victim in the trial could have shot himself, rather than being murdered by his client. The defendant was found innocent. 5. Death By Shaving In 1923, George Herbert, the 5th Earl of Carnarvon (that’s in Wales), died after he cut open a mosquito bite while shaving. It became infected and killed him soon after from pneumonia. 6. Death By Acting In 1958, Gareth Jones, an actor, died on a heart attack in between scenes in a TV play. His character was supposed to die in the same way. 7. Death By Machine In 1979, Robert Williams, who worked in a Ford Motor Company factory, made history as the first person killed by a robot. He was struck in the head by one of the cranes. 8. Death By Window In 1993, A Toronto lawyer fell to his death after hurling himself at a window on the 24th floor of the Toronto-Dominion Center. He was trying to prove that the glass was unbreakable – and he was sort of right. The glass never broke but, rather, it popped out of place and fell to the ground with him. 9. Death By Wee In 2007, a woman by the name of Jennifer Strange fell victim to bladder failure and died during a promotional radio contest called, “Hold Your Wee For Wii,” in which contestants attempted to go the longest without peeing in order to win a Nintendo Wii. 10. Death By Nature In 2009, Canadian folk singer Taylor Mitchell became the only recorded adult person to be killed by coyotes after they attacked her in Cape Breton Highlands National Park. 11. Death By Choking In 2012, a man died after choking on a cockroach during a roach-eating contest. 12. Death By Selfie In 2014, Oscar Otero Aguilar, 21, died after shooting himself in the head while posing for a selfie with a loaded handgun.

[thehikingviking]

Kingston Peak via North Ridge from Tecopa Pass

We had such a great time in Las Vegas that we decided to spend one more night. Our Airbnb had availability and I had plenty of Southwest points left over, so I decided to put Asaka and Leif on the first Sunday morning flight and drive back by myself afterwards. This perfect plan allowed Leif to get home with as little stress as possible and allowed me to climb one more challenging peak. Kingston Peak is typically covered with snow this time of year, but due to limited snowfall, the mountain range was completely snow free. None of the trip reports I read were pleasant, so I wasn’t too excited for this one. Bushwhacking and ticks seemed to be the common theme, but I figured that the latter would be hard to find in January, as ticks seem to become more abundant during the spring. I dropped off Asaka and Leif at the terminal at 5am then began my drive south towards Jean, Nevada. Sunrise was at 7:22am, and with my early start, I worried that I would get to the trailhead in the dark. I left pavement at the town of Sandy Valley, then followed worsening dirt roads towards Tecopa Pass. Google Maps wasn’t very reliable here, and I worried if the road would deteriorate to the point where I could go no further, but in the end I was able to push through, albeit slowly, and eventually I made it back to pavement. This paved road seemed out of place, but the area appears to be actively mined to this day. I left Excelsior Mine Road and drove south on a rough spur road as far as I could towards Kingston Peak until the point that I could no longer proceed further. I parked at a small turnout with a fire ring and witnessed one of the best sunrises of my life.

I found a use trail leading away from the seldom used campsite, so I initially followed this. For a while I thought I had found the key to an easy hike, but then the trail started taking me in the wrong direction. I should have known it was too good to be true. I remembered a trip report stating that hiking in the wash was the easiest path, so I took this advice. I hiked through the brush until I dropped into the wash, then followed this due south.

The wash was sandy and rocky, which made my pace slow. Sure, I wasn’t in a rush, but it would be nice to be done early. I found myself slowly creeping out of the wash, first alongside the dry channels, then above and outside of the wash altogether. I found faint game trails initially, then later well defined game trails. These game trails would often split, or even vanish into the brush, but it wouldn’t be long before I found another one. I was able to significantly improve my pace by utilizing these byways.

As I approached the mouth of the canyon from which the wash descended, I became squeezed in on both sides by steep canyon walls. At this choke point in the canyon, I believe the advice to stay in the wash holds.

There was some light bushwhacking through this section, but not much compared to some of the coastal brush that I am used to dealing with. I could see how a desert hiker could become overwhelmed though. I patiently weaved my way over, around and through the tighter sections until I emerged on the other side. The brush dissipated as I gained elevation, and soon I was back to dealing with plants that were only knee high.

I picked up various use trails here that slowly took me up to the ridgeline above. Once atop the ridge, I sat down for a long rest. The thickest of the brush was over and so far I had seen no ticks.

I finally received a text back from Asaka so I gave her a call. I had great service and was able to facetime with her and Leif. They were back home already and the grandparents were visiting. I was a little jealous. After our call, I continued uphill, staying on the shaded and snow covered side of the ridge beneath some rocky bluffs. I crossed through a notch and made my way through easy terrain towards the pine trees ahead.

I hiked up to a point where two ridgelines merged, and from my vantage point I could see Kingston Peak for the first time.

From there I continued down the ridge. I had trouble finding a path along the very top of the ridge, finding brush and serrated rock sections challenging my route. It wasn't technically difficult to get through, but it was kind of a pain. Several times I had to drop down below to circumvent a big chunk of rock blocking the shortest route.

I dropped down several hundred feet before reaching the lowest point in the connecting saddle. I had expected to find some sort of a use trail but found nothing of the sort. I would simply describe what I experienced as rough terrain. I continued climbing alongside the ridge, first beneath the right side of the ridge, then over to the left side of the ridge, but neither side was smooth sailing. The terrain finally started to ease up as I approached the sub peak northeast of the true summit.

At first I tried to cut underneath the side of the peaklet, but it was not easy. Instead, I climbed over the top, and again was hit by rocky and broken sections ahead. I couldn't catch a break.

I again scrambled down and sidehilled to the final saddle at the northeast base of the peak. I was starting to feel drained. I stayed on the left side of ridge to keep my route class 2. I found some cairns which simplified route finding, and zig-zagged up the steep slopes until I reached the summit. To the southwest were the Avawatz Mountains.

To the west-northwest was Telescope Peak.

To the north-northwest were Kingston Benchmark and the Nopah Range.

To the north-northeast was Mt Charleston.

To the northeast was Potosi Mountain.

To the southeast was Clark Mountain.

To the south were the Shadow Mountains and the Mojave Regional Preserve.

It was a bit early for lunch, but I had worked up an appetite, so I ate my orange chicken right there on the summit. I facetimed Asaka and Leif again, telling them that I missed them and I would be home that night. Just like all the trip reports stated, the mileage and elevation gain are misleading. While short, this peak takes a lot out of you. Once I felt rested, I retraced my steps back across the ridge. I tried to find a better route down, but instead found a tougher time. Just when I would start to get into a groove, I would hit a clump of rocks which I had to avoid by climbing down and round. To make matters worse, I realized that my sunglasses fell off my cap at some point, and with no trail, the probability of retracing my steps and finding them were slim. I was pretty bummed out, but that is why I buy the $16.99 variety. It started to warm up quite a bit as I made my way up from the saddle. My enthusiasm to get any bonus peaks had dwindled, and instead I wanted to get to the comfort of my car. I entered the brushy section once more, finding it easier with downhill momentum than on the way up.

Once through the brushy section, I stayed out of the wash and followed game trails through the desert landscape. It seemed to go on for a while, but I finally reached the road. I didn't see one tick the whole day. Once in my car I drove west along dirt roads that led me to Tecopa. I stopped in Baker for some Mexican food then drove all the way home that night, ending my desert road trip.

[texasguidefishing]

Texas Lakes Best for Bass Fishing

Texas is famous for having great bass fisheries and many other things. So whether you like to catch huge bass or lots and lots of them, you’re sure to find them in Texas. Here are the popular lakes in Texas best for bass fishing.

Lake Sam Rayburn

Lake Sam Rayburn is situated in the region of southeastern Texas in the middle of the notable Piney Woods. The lake is regarded as one of the best and most healthy fisheries in the state. This massive water body is a fishing destination and considered by many fishers as one of the top bass lakes in Texas or even the nation. Fishing opportunities on the lake also consist of white bass, hybrid striped bass, crappie, and all three types of catfish.

Lake Allan Henry

Lake Alan Henry is situated roughly 65 miles Southeast of Lubbock and was constructed in 1993 as a reservoir by Lubbock’s city. Largemouth bass is the most notable species in the reservoir. This lake has generated a number of lunker size fish.

Lake Fork

Only a few hours outside of Dallas, this lake consistently produce big fish despite the heavy fishing pressure. Developed as a premier bass fishing lake, Lake Fork presently keeps records for 34 out of the Top 50 largemouth bass captured in Texas.

Falcon Lake

This Lake is a reservoir on the Rio Grande only 40 miles southeast of Laredo, Texas. The reservoir was established by the construction of the Falcon Dam to supply water preservation, irrigation, flood management, and hydroelectricity to the region. The lake’s largemouth bass are the major draw, as witnessed by the hundreds of major tournaments that have been held there. Apart from largemouth bass, there are also black crappie, flathead catfish and white bass.

Choke Canyon Reservoir

Choke Canyon Reservoir offers drinking water for the city of Corpus Christi. The reservoir also gives good fishing opportunities, particularly for large mouth bass and catfish. Choke Canyon State Park, situated in two locations on the south shore of the lake, gives accessibility to the lake and several other leisure activities.

source https://texasguidefishing.wordpress.com/2020/09/29/texas-lakes-best-for-bass-fishing/

[stusbunker]

Twitterpated with a Side of Ex-Demon

A Through the Years OS

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Unnamed Female Character, Human!Crowley, Borrowed Grace!Castiel

A/N: This is part of a larger AU where Sam closed the gates of Hell and Crowley was cured. Dean met our mystery nurse while Sam was in the coma from the Trials. Nothing to warn you about, however there is smut-ish parts and regular Crowley attitude. xoxo Stu

*^*

Dean answered without looking at the caller ID, “Agent Neil.”

“Shit, must be a wrong number, I was looking for a Winchester.”

“I might be able to help you out, Miss?”

“It’s Nurse, actually.”

“Well, it seems to be my lucky day. Where you stuck this month?”

“Cedar Rapids, you?”

“I’m a couple days out. What’s your schedule like?”

“Twelve on, Twenty four off.”

“A whole day huh?”

“If you time it right, you may just get a day and a half, AGENT.”

“There are no speed limits for Feds.”

She chuckled back at him. “Sure, just get here in one piece.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean couldn’t keep the stupor of anticipated bliss off his features.

“You done flirting? We have a witness to interrogate!” Crowley’s posturing broke into Dean’s happy place.

Dean rolled his eyes at his temporary partner’s impatience, climbing out of the Impala five paces in front of the other man. “Question the witness. You interrogate the suspects.”

“Well, lots of times they’re one in the same, yeah?”

“How many cop shows have you been binging?”

“You do your research, I’ll do mine.”

“I’ll give you something to research.”

“Come again? Get your head out of the booty call and get to work, Agent.”

Dean knocked on the door, bemused to be falling into Crowley’s orders. It was a long case, generally because Crowley wasn’t used to putting in actual human effort and insisted on questioning Dean’s every move. It was fine, the cursed object was whisked away into a spelled box and everybody lived. Dean couldn’t wait to lose his shadow and make good on his promise.

As soon as Dean was heading for the door, barely a half hour after reaching the Bunker, Crowley started to stew. “Fine, just leave me here to rot.”

“You could do some work, find a case while I’m gone. Won’t be more than a couple of days.”

“Is that all I am to you? Your secretary?”

“Look, I’m giving you a place to lay low. A place to avoid all those big bads on your very HUMAN ass, man. Don’t go reading into things.”

“I suppose I should thank you.”

“You should, but you won’t.” Dean popped the Impala’s trunk, tossing his restocked duffel inside.

“You know me so well.”

“Yeah, well, don’t wait up.” Without looking back to see his reaction, Dean slipped into the driver’s seat.

*^*

Dean barely made it through the door before her hands were on him, her warm lips kissed the night air from his skin. It felt good to have somebody waiting for him, somebody who knew crazy hours and sacrifice. Somebody who got him. She had his jacket off before he could hang up his keys, his duffel laid forgotten at the door. She dragged him to the bedroom and gave him the welcome he never knew he needed, one he definitely didn’t deserve. Like always, he took what he could get with her and she more than reciprocated.

It was after midnight when Dean woke to an empty bed, the gentle closing of cabinets bumping down the hall from the kitchen. The whole loft was dark, her assigned flat, cavernous and bare. His gun was in the slightly open drawer on his bedside table, he stared at it for a solid five seconds before leaving it to find her stark naked and grinning over a spoon full of peanut butter.

“Well now I feel upstaged.” Dean’s face dipped, his eyes sultry beneath his heavy lashes as she continued to rake her tongue up and around the metal curve, challenging his stare. Her only reply was a hummed, unimpressed note, but the mischievous spark had ignited. Dean carefully leaned one wide palm on the countertop, trailing it behind him as he pointedly circled the island, rounding on her and that devilishly distracting snack.

She felt the delicious apprehension as he approached, the set of her spine and puckering of flesh tensing from his potential threat; such danger he possessed. Would he scoop her up and lay her out on the tile? Would he take his time and have a treat of his own? Her mind grew fuzzy as he lingered, taking in her every twitch and smirk.

“Uh, there is a dress code after midnight, Mister. Drop ‘em.”

Dean quickly dipped out of the offending boxer briefs, bunching them in his hand and tossing them over his back. “Should of known you were going to start nagging me.”

Her eyebrows shot up, the empty spoon hovering in midair. “Excuse me?”

“With all these sudden rules.” Dean slid behind her, brushing himself against the swell of her backside. His hands threading around her waist, leaning on the countertop. “And you don’t even share,” he teased. “A guy should really cut his loses.”

“Yeah,” she mock agreed, dropping her head back onto his shoulder as Dean lifted the jar of Skippy Natural up, noting the giant canyon she had left in the middle. “You’re really getting to the low parts of being in a relationship.”

She dipped the spoon back into the depths, holding it just out of the reach of his mouth. “I mean, what guy is gonna stand for being spoon fed by a naked chick at one A.M.?”

She spun and almost choked him with it; shoving the handle up, playfully through his mouth, smearing his lips with the sticky paste. “Thiff, thiffs whad ‘m talging aboud!”

They laughed, the easy comfortable kind that sits in the seams of eyes and lips, the kind that buries itself for memory sake. Eventually, she pushed her chest into his. Dean’s hands rubbing her arms as she licked him clean. Spoon forgotten somewhere between the floor and their embrace. Tongues met in a true kiss while the blood started to thrum between them once more. Once he got her on the counter, she knew they weren’t making it back to bed anytime soon.

His lips roamed without worry or rush. She used her healer’s hands to pull and prod his neck and back, working him in slow, deep drags down to his ass. Dean’s fingers dropped between them and just as he found an angle that worked, one she liked; his phone erupted in the other room.

“Ignore it,” Dean grunted, leaving a kiss on her neck as he tried to work her over once more.

“Dean?” She worried, another call following the last.

He sighed, pulling back and resting his hands on her spread thighs. His forehead rested on hers in defeat. “I could kill him?”

“I know you could, Babe. But he’s your friend and he probably found something.” Her whole face smiled at his repulsion to her choice of words.

“Something that is going to take me away from this, from you.” Dean groaned. As quickly as the third call broke through, Dean bent over, locking his arms around her waist and hips before throwing her over his shoulder and trotting her back to the bedroom.

Only once Dean found her suitably tucked into his side did he answer the unrelenting ring. “What?!” He barked, earning a giggle from her as his face broke from keeping up the front of anger.

“It’s Wings, Squirrel. He’s a mess and he isn’t exactly in the chatting mood.”

“What, is he hurt?”

“Define hurt?”

“Crowley!”

“He’s coughing like Patient 0 and could use a, make that several, washes.”

Dean heard Cas’s voice in the background, but couldn’t make out much from their end of the line. He weighed Crowley’s dramatics and Cas’s fortitude before giving himself a few hour respite. “Alright, sit tight. I’ll be there when I can.”

“Oh, don’t rush the reunion sex on our account.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Dean winked at her as she played with his free hand, fingers dancing in little patterns over his lifeline.

“Figures.”

“Yep.”

“You gonna hang up?”

“Are you?”

“ I call you, out of the goodness of my–” Dean rolled his eyes and ended the call before powering down his phone for the rest of the night.

*^*

She watched him walk back to the sleek black car, bowlegs in a perpetual strut. The predawn haze a dreamscape of goodbyes. He bit the lip of his take away coffee cup and settled the contents of his trunk. She was getting cold waiting on the patio, but she insisted to see him go, to have him for as long as possible. They were completely impractical, but somehow, it worked. A weekend here and a night there, states and battles apart. He stirred a part of her she almost let fade, a part full of purpose and most importantly: hope.

He gave her a two finger salute and a scruffy pout as he pulled out of the parking lot. It actually hurt to watch him go, like an organ being transplanted from a conscious patient. She understood what was happening, but she could do nothing but see what happened next. Dean was worth it, they were worth it. Besides, who doesn’t love a bad boy, especially one with a heart of gold and too many chips on his shoulder?

*^*

[mizar113]

Choke Canyon State Park.

[trewloves]

some america!jakes headcanons bc i miss home and peter jakes a lil rn (even though i KNOW arizona and wyoming arent the same but we’re still both the ~wild west~)

jakes trying a sam adams for the first time and being absolutely disgusted because american beer really. is not that good. controversial perhaps but it really isnt

hope has extended family in the southwest so they go to her cousin’s wedding in sedona together and jakes sees a scorpion for the first time and he’s like whoa what the fuck why is the wildlife here trying to fucking kill me????

snakes....enough said

his absolute wonder at seeing a sunset, like a real one, for the first time, because sunsets in the western united states are so gorgeous it’s unreal

hope always likes looking at nature and scenery so he always suggests they go on outings and she’s like “nah you don’t have to” bc she thinks he might be bored but he insists because he loves her so much and so he drives but he always forgets that driving in the states is nothing like driving in the uk bc back home a 2 hour drive means you have completely left oxfordshire but in the states 2 hours means you’re still....trapped in wyoming

that said when he did drive them to hope’s cousin’s wedding in sedona she took over driving because he was so fucking bored

also he occasionally drives on the wrong side of the road or prepares to exit the interstate on the wrong side because he blanks out and forgets that he’s not in the uk

the first time he smells cow shit it’s unreal, he can’t stop choking on the smell of it. i’m 100% not joking here, if you’ve ever driven along I-10 and I-5 to get from like phoenix to norcal like san jose and you drive by that part of the interstate where there’s just tons of cattle ranches randomly......like even with the wonders of modern technology you could turn off the AC and roll up the windows of your car but the stench is just. unreal. can’t describe it but now imagine peter jakes in like the poorly ventilated 1970s smelling that shit

he nearly dies of dehydration during the first summer in wyoming because it’s just. awful. he’s never experienced dry heat like that. he’s literally thinking about how hope’s parents just live like this all the time. like they really just .....exist. in heat. like that. 

but going back to hope’s cousin’s wedding in sedona, which is held in october because arizona is perfect weather in the fall, he’s totally shook by how nice the weather is and still has trouble comprehending how it can just. not rain

but he’s also very freaked by monsoons and flash floods and the first time he experiences a dust storm he’s like wtf yall live like this??? yall just. see a giant cloud of dust tryna eat u and ur ok with it?

his absolute wonder at the national parks and natural wonders in the western united states...seeing yellowstone for the first time and watching old faithful erupt? when hope takes him to the grand canyon and he stands at the northern rim and looks down at the colorado river rushing below them and he just can’t believe a place this beautiful exists in the world, because the grand canyon really is just absolutely breathtaking

that said i mean just imagine him and hope taking a road trip and driving down through nevada and into northern arizona through all those pine forests. he has to write to morse because this is just the most incredible place.

i just think about peter jakes in the us all the time ok

[the-canary]

Starlight - B.B (3/6)

Summary: Mysterious, but life changing things always happen if you just let life take its course – you decided to try it for once. (Modern AU!Reader/Bucky Barnes).

Prompt: Emily Dickinson: XXI

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 

A/N: This is for @abovethesmokestacks ‘s Summer Writing Challenge.  At the end, I am not trying to make the main character seem vain or greedy, as shown with the constellation’s background story, but the beauty and other things that she holds from Bucky’s POV. Just wanted to point that out. 

Feedback is always welcomed.

As much as Bucky loves traveling and seeing the stars from all types of different scenery while enjoying the type nature that you just can’t get in New York, he still has his bad days. There are days were he shuts himself in his hotel for days, where the screams and darkness living within his mind suffocate him. There are other days where he is completely numb, ignoring the red in his eyes and the red from where he scratches too hard -- but, he thinks he deserves it after all he has done.

It’s one of those times when he slowly makes his way way into central Arizona after spending some time in Utah. From the very beginning, Bucky felt like something was off -- he was too hot, the desert reminded him too much of his time back in the Army, and the coldness that settled over the desert dug too deeply into the scar tissue of his left arm and the invisible wounds that ran up and down his body.  

“ Hey Sam ,” he calls his sometimes friend after being woken up by the hotel staff -- his neighbors had given numerous complaints throughout the night of his screaming.

They threaten to kick him out without remorse, worst case scenario they call the police, but Bucky leaves to another hotel closer to the road  before they can.

“ Hey Stevie ,” he cries to his sleepy best friend, as the unfriendly darkness (the one without stars) causes him to cry all night, though he tries to muffle the sound until he gets two hours of fitful sleep.

He’s no good, is all Bucky can think to himself, as tears stains run down his cheeks and there’s a heavy feeling in his chest. He turns over and reaches out for his little journal. Blue eyes stare that the picture tapped in the beginning for a long time, as he wishes a certain someone was here with him but at the same time, wishes (and is happy) she is so far from him -- probably has already forgotten about him. He lets out another choked sob at the thought.

He’s no good for anybody.  

 Arizona has to be the worst state you have ever been to, though it wasn’t you’re doing -- everything just seems against from the beginning. You had felt a sense of renewal after coming back from New Mexico and it showed in both your professional and personal life, as you finished projects with stellar praise from your superiors and you had even gone out a couple of times with your friends and had even started talking to Wanda every once and awhile. Things were going great and then your supervisor, Mrs. Hill, had decided to send you to a week long seminar in Arizona, and while you had been excited in the beginning -- the traveling details, extra work hours, and general disregard for your health slowly changed your mood. It also didn’t help that it was the fucking middle of summer and your mother had been in the same area, through her own work was well, causing you to meet up as a result for a quick family dinner. However you should know by now those never ended well.

This what you do, what a disappointment. No romantic life either, what good are you  for anyways?

By midweek, you were tired from the lack of sleep and anxiety running through your veins leading to you  sitting in the middle of your room with your notebook, hoping that writing might calm you down like it usually did -- it wasn’t doing a good job. You wanted to go home, you wanted someone to tell you it was going to be all right, but even with all the small changes that you had been making… you didn’t have any of that. Why didn’t you? Weren’t you good enough? Was your mother right about the choices you had made since leaving her home all those years ago?

The anxiety and suffocating loneliness becomes too much, as you walk out of your hotel room in shorts and a old t-shirt to look for a vending machine, just to get out of your head and focus on something else -- that’s when you see him standing next to your destination, red-eyed with shaggy clothing and hair as you stop breathing for a moment.

The universe always knows what you need, as your grandmother used to say.  

 Flagstaff, AZ

“Bucky?” a soft voice drags Bucky from his endless tasks of counting the stars from his current viewpoint. It wasn’t enough, but it was better than staying in his room by his lonesome, but the sound of that voice makes him think he’s finally lost it. Why would she be here of all places?

He wipes away the sleep from his eyes, to make sure he isn’t dreaming, “Doll, what ya doing here?”

You smile as the sound of his voice, as you step a bit closer to him. You both look like individual wrecks in the middle of the night, but seeing him just lifts your spirits like they haven’t been in a long while. He straightens himself up, as you look at the machine trying to pick what to choose, as you explain that you are here for work purposes and he tells you that he’s still traveling, actually on his way to see the Grand Canyon. With the trade of plenseteries over, there is only one other ignored issue  to bring up between the two of you -- the elephant in the room, and you ask first.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask timidly as red-rimmed blue eyes look at you before turning to look at the dark canopy he knows like the back of his hand, but sometimes it can feel disorentiening, like he’s a little kid afraid of the dark. He shakes his head and tries to stay nonchalant about the whole situation, he doesn’t need to burden you with his problems.

“Can’t sleep. Nightmares,” he explains with a shrug, as your brittle smile takes him by surprise. Your next words do even more so.  

“Ah, insomnia,” you tell him you own problems with a light laugh that cracks in the end. You put a dollar and some change into the machine only to pick up a small candy bar afterwards, but it isn’t enough as your stomach growls even harder after you finish said morsole, the lack of food and general sickness you have been avoiding is finally catching up with you, as you look away from Bucky in embarrassment for a moment -- only for his stomach to return your stomach’s call.  

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” you laugh, loud and sweetly, as Bucky feels his face get hotter for a moment. He is ready to deny your invitation --he doesn’t want you to be wasting your time or money on him more than you have to-- until you add with a smile, “I’ve got a company card.”  

“Well, I can’t say no to that,” Bucky lets out with a chuckle, as he watches your face light up like a Christmas light, though he doesn’t exactly understand why. You tell him to wait and run down the hall to where your room is, as Bucky shakes his head unsure of what he got himself into but appreciating whatever had brought you to him for the night.

You run back outside with your keys and wallet, as you motion for Bucky to follow you to the white rental car that was parked not that far away from your room’s location. He can’t help but shake his head at your sudden enthusiasm, but he can’t feel like it’s warming up his bones and chasing all the voices in his head for a moment. As he gets into the car and you head down a little ways to find a diner that caught your interest earlier in the week, you are both happy to not be spending another night alone.

 Once you enter the 24-hour diner,  the two of you realized that you were both hungrier than you had originally thought, since you end up ordering a big breakfast with hash browns, Bucky does the same but with an additional side of pancakes. Though it was silent as you stuffed your faces, you started to talk about anything that comes to mind as he tells you about Steve and Sam, while you talk about work and Wanda. Once you have talked about all of them, you get down to the real business at hand -- stars.

“I graduated not that long ago and I wanted to celebrate,” Bucky explains bashfully on how he got the idea for his star journey after finally getting his Bachelor’s degree, but instead of being met with disbelief or apprehension, all he can see is pure amazement on your face, “Wanted to see what I fought so hard for.”

“That’s amazing, Bucky,” your smile dazzles him completely, as you stop to tell the waitress that you need two chocolate cakes with scoop of vanilla ice cream, much to his embarrassment.   

“What about you? What made you go to New Mexico?” he questions as he leans a bit more, his blue eyes meeting yours and waiting for an answer because since the very beginning --with you coming into Inwood Park wearing a business suit but with all the curiosity in the world in your bright eyes-- he wondered why you were so into stars.

“I think I’m trying to look for something,” you start explaining softly while having Bucky’s undivided attention, “My grandma died a while back and left me a lot of her art, all of which was stars. It wasn’t until recently I finally got to take a good look at them, I didn’t know a single constellation nor its meaning. I just feel like I need to know now, like I owe it too her, ya know?”

You give him a watery smile before wiping a stray tear from you eye, as he grasps your hand for moment, “I’m sure she would be proud of you, doll. Taking the first step is never easy.”

You give him a nod, unsure of whether your voice is going to crack or not if you try thanking him. However, the mood quickly passes as the waitress comes back with your desserts. You hum in appreciation at the sight of the chocolate cake before taking your spoon in celebration.

“To you, Bucky, for graduating and taking this journey!” you declare before taking a bite, as Bucky just shakes his head in embarrassment.  

“To you and your grandma,” he says, though not as loud as you. And you stay there for awhile, simply enjoying each other’s company.

 The drive back to the hotel is quieter as the lack of sleep and heavy food begins to hit both of you, and you’re thankful that the diner wasn’t that far since your eyelids are dropping as you park in the hotel once more. You stay there, in a hazy sort of happiness and ready to go to sleep only to feel someone opening the driver side door and picking you up. You turn your head only slightly to see Bucky with the same haze taking over his eyes, though there is a satisfied smile on his face.

“Time for bed, Sleeping Beauty,” he states and you briefly wonder if this was how Bucky usually acted with all the ladies or if it was the sleep deprivation talking, but you don’t say anything as he carries to your room and opens the door. He sets you down as softly as he can. A soft touch to your forehead before he gets up to leave, though he is apprehensive to be left alone in his room once more, especially after spending all this time with you. However, a light touch to his right hand causes him to look down once more.

“Stay,” you whimper out, as blue eyes widen for a moment at the thought that you don’t want to be alone either. He wants to say no, scared of what might happen if he falls asleep, of how he could hurt, but your hold on his hand tightens and you drag him down a bit, “ Please. ”   

The sound of your voice and the shimmer of your sleepy eyes break Bucky very easily, as he lays down as you move to the other side a bit more. Due to you holding his hand, he is facing you in the center of the bed, as he tries his hardest to keep his left arm from you, just to protect you a bit -- as best as he can. You give him one last smile while holding his hand, but leaving a gap between the two of you.

“Goodnight Bucky,” you sigh before closing your eyes and letting slumber drag you away for the first time in a week, blue eyes watch as your breathing begins to slow down and light snoring escapes your parted lips. Bucky yawns and the soft warmth next to him slowly begins to drag him to sleep as well, though he does try to fight it here and there.

“Goodnight,” he whispers out your name before setting down into a dreamless sleep.

You end up missing those morning workshops for the seminar, though you can’t help but agree that it is the best sleep you had gotten in some time, though it is a little embarrassing to have woken up to tangled limbs and a soft caress of your name on his lips -- but, you would never tell him that.

 The few remaining days you have in Arizona are spent with Bucky as much as you can. In the mornings, you go to all the workshops and network the best you can, but the afternoon and evening are spent eating, exchanging stories, or simply driving aways out to the desert and talking (and by extension taking pictures or writing down things) about all the stars he knows and you want to learn of. Though for tonight, you were simply lying down on your bed together, trading stories after ordering some hotel food.    

“I don’t know, I like Andromeda better,” you laugh from your side of the bed while staring at the star map that he usually carried around, as Bucky shakes his head, “Okay, so who do you like?”

“Cassiopeia,” he remarks as you get up a little and give him a look of disbelief  since you knew her story well enough, but before you can ask he already bets you to the explaining his reasoning, “She was beautiful and knew what she wanted, I like that in a gal.”

You laugh before pushing your elbow into his rib cage just slightly,”You’re ridiculous, Bucky.”

He laughs along with you, never saying anything of how her story reminds him more of you than Andromeda ever could.

 However, just like in New Mexico, good things have to come to end as you wrap up everything and get ready to head back to Pulliam Airport to head back home. Bucky is standing in front of your rental car a sad smile on his face, but looking better than he was a few nights back, and his own backpack placed near him as he continued his journey towards the Grand Canyon. You’re standing a bit closer than the last time you left each other, as his right hand sweeps over your knuckles for a moment. You give him a small smile, encouraging him to tell you what is on your mind before you have to go.   

“Could I have your phone number?” he asks shyly, as your smile grows at his request, “I mean if it isn’t too much to ask.”

“Of course, you can,” you state before he takes out his phone, which you had seen here and there throughout the days you spent together, and punch in your number as a new contact, “So, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Okay,” is all he manages to say.

You take a step forward and though you hadn’t talked about the nightmares or insecurity that haunted the both of you. You knew that you needed to tell Bucky one more thing before you left tim, “Bucky, you’re more than enough. Got it?”

“I know,” he breathes out, understanding what you are trying to tell him. His hand tightens around yours just a bit as you smile and he swears than he can see the stars shining in your eyes, even though it is the middle of the afternoon, and he knows he has to say it as well, “You are too, doll.”

“Okay,” you smile, taking a step back and heading towards the front of the car, though you’re already missing him, “But don’t forget to send me some star pics on your adventures, or just call me!”

“I will!” He smiles and watches you enter the rented car and drive off, his heart lighter than before since he had entered the desert, but also aching at the loss of you, wondering if he was going to see you again but knows he had you a bit closer than before as he stares at the number on his phone  -- a new, cozier picture of you, of when the two of you had been lying about and your hair was a mess, but there was a huge smile on your face. He couldn't get rid of the smile on his face for a couple of days, as he keeps moving forward.

Hey, doll...was thinking of you when I took this.

It’s a picture of the dark sky over a mountainous backdrop, but if you looked hard enough you could see the vague outline of Cassiopeia, and maybe that’s what was he was starting to feel for you.  

Part 4