#I feel like in the last month I unlocked the ability to just doodle faces without much fuss/references/really thinking abt it

[knifeforkspooncup]

Haven't posted art in a while bc I'm working like a dog and sick and the eepiest lil guy in the universe but I've been scribbling SO MUCH. My wips pile is a million miles long, and I now have 3x as many blorbos on the chopping block than I did before thanks to several of my old obsession being reignited (yay, be happy for me.) Oh AND I'm also trying out new brushes and colouring artsyles which is frustrating and wonderful but also s l o w.

All this to say, send me art ideas/prompts! Enable my starting-new-things addiction.

Here's a lil bedtime scribble, of the cheeky edinburgh Aziraphale variety.

[amphxtrite]

fred weasley x fem!reader

This is for @feetoffthetable ‘s 500 follower writing challenge. Congratulations again on 500!!

hope you like it.

prompts:

“What happened to their happily ever after?”

“Not all love stories get a happily ever after, sometimes it’s just once upon a time.”

warnings: angst, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

word count: 3.1k

tag list: @cupidpoison @marvelhoesworld @wonderful-writer

enjoy<3

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Almost every girl can remember the days where they’d dream of their fairytale romance. Dancing, a prince charming and a kiss in the moonlight as every problem faded away; A thrilling fight between the lovers and the evil villain ending with the two wrapped in each other’s arms. Despite being muggle tales, the wizarding world had also grown to adore these stories, smiles widening on even grown witches' faces with each ‘once upon a time.’

You’d grown up reading about maidens being swept off their feet into the arms of their knight in shining armor, fate seemed to encompass every story you laid your eyes on, so when Fred Weasley entered your life, with a charming smile and a playfulness that had you wanting more, you couldn’t help but fall.

And so began the pining. Stares across the classroom at the wave of red hair, crossing your fingers when group projects were announced, peeking down corridors to see if you could catch the prankster twins in action, and daydreaming from dawn till dusk. You could barely get words past your lips if he ever smiled in your direction. You found yourself wondering what it would feel like to run your hand through his hair. Doodling his name on parchment became common, and dreams of dancing with him plagued your mind. You were young, and in love. You could almost feel your fairy godmother pushing you towards him, fairy tale magic coursing through your veins whenever your eyes would meet.

It took a couple years, but you found your voice. Starting small with congratulations after quidditch games, an occasional joke during classes, a couple more smiles here and there.

The unrequited love, became returned. Fred Weasley thought you were just the shy girl from his transfiguration class, quiet and meek. When you built up the confidence to strike up conversations and joke about Snape’s hair, he found himself hanging onto your every word.

The older twin went from not knowing your name to looking forward to even his most boring classes just to catch a glimpse of your face. Making you smile became his mission, and Godric did he love it when your face would completely light up. Not just a small smirk, but when your eyes sparkle, your lips pull up far enough to see your teeth and your cheeks go a bit pink, that was most definitely his favourite sight.

Even the most enchanting storybook couples would stare amazed at the adoration Fred Weasley and Y/n L/n shared for each other. Two best friends pining for the other without realizing the mutual warmth that had grown. Spending countless hours together, hiding their flushed cheeks, sweaty palms and loving eyes to enjoy every moment spent together.

When the Yule ball was announced Fred had fallen flat on his face running up to ask you. He’d spotted you in the clock tower courtyard with one of your friends and he knew immediately, you were the only person he’d want to go with. He sprinted up to you intending to drop to his knee and ask, but his foot got caught in the stone and he fell for you the second time. Now any other person may have lost hope and ran away, but Fred Weasley was determined to make the most of it, rebounding it with a cheesy pick up line, In true Fred fashion.

Cinderella would’ve glared in jealousy when the two of you waltzed across the dance floor. Not only was the night magical, but it was awkward, nervous, and fun. It didn’t seem like the far fetched dance at the end of a film, it felt real. You’d step on his toes and he’d shuffle his hand around your waist, but when it came down to it, you didn’t care. You really did feel like a princess dancing in the arms of her lover, swaying to the beautiful music as other students starred in awe at the two gryffindors gliding around the room, laughing happily while moving their feet in a mesmerizing waltz.

That night Fred Weasley finally asked you to be his girlfriend, he got down on his knee in the middle of the dance floor, pouring his heart out to you, his confession wiping even the soliloquies of Romeo Montague out of the water.

“Y/n, from the moment you started to talk to me in our third year, I fell. You make me smile, laugh, blush and always know how to cheer me up. Honestly, why didn’t you start talking to me sooner? I never knew how much I needed you, but my eyes have been cleared, my feelings in tune and now I’m asking you on the dance floor to maybe take this foolish man to be your prince?”

Droplets emerged from your eyes as you shook your head up and down, happy tears flowing free as you pulled the red-head up again.

The entire student body had paused to take in the scene before them, watching in surprise as Fred Weasley stood to his feet to dip the girl with tear stained cheeks into a low kiss, only standing again to catch his breath before stealing you away out the door.

You’d give anything to go back to that night. The seed of young adoration finally blossoming into a flower of love. Love so true, beautiful and pure you’d probably blind anyone who saw. You ran through the halls to Black Lake, dancing to the beats of your hearts in the embrace of your love, swaying in the moonlight as puzzle pieces of your life finally seemed to fall into place and stars aligned.

Holding your love in your arms is a feeling so surreal and fantastic, something that has an addicting property that you couldn’t help but crave. When Fred’s arms surrounded you, you didn’t feel trapped, enclosed, barricaded. You felt free, as though you could fly.

It is hard to define love, but what was between the redhead prankster and gryffindor dreamer painted a clear picture for anyone to see. Love opens the best in us, it reveals pieces of us never seen before and unlocks emotions never known. Fred grew more in love with you with each passing day and his desire to see the smile upon your face never faded.

Your love for your prince charming was something that would never be taken away from you. Everyday took your breath away and every time Fred smiled at you, your brain seemed to turn to mush, the childhood pining never seemed to leave.

Your last year at Hogwarts brought about some problems, with the monstrous pink toad and Fred’s tendencies for trouble, you could say difficulties were inevitable. Nights where Fred snuck into your dorm broken down, tired, and ready to collapse became frequent, especially after he was banned from the quidditch team. Fred was hesitant to reveal his sensitivity, but with cuts across his hands and the loss of his favourite activity, he was willing to lose it all just to rest in your arms again. Many nights he’d run to you, exhausted and restless. You’d hold him close, soothe him the best you could and heal his wounds to the best of your abilities. You didn’t know what to say, but you didn’t need to talk. Fred was content laying on your chest as you fussed over him, pressing kisses across his freckled face and mumbling rather choice words under your breath about the pink devil as you gently caressed his injured hand as light as a butterfly.

You were the first person he’d told his scheme to leave Hogwarts to, begging you to go with him and start a new life in a place he’d dreamt of since he was a child. He honestly wasn’t expecting you to agree, but how could you not? It’s not like you had much planned. Anyways, you were tired of the pain Fred had to endure during the past year, so if he was ready to leave, so were you.

You’d compare flying a broom into the sky as fireworks flashed behind you, to riding into the sunset on the back of a stallion, but yours was so much cooler. Fred had grabbed you from the floor and pulled you onto his broom, you clutched onto him for dear life as he and George flew their last victory lap and destroyed every last horrid plaque of rules that hung on the walls of the school of magic. Another feeling of freedom was evident throughout the entire building as victorious cheers sound from every window.

This was definitely better than a ride into the sunset.

Life with the twins in Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes couldn’t be defined by just one word. It was exciting, chaotic and the most fun you’ve had in your life. Designing product boxes and using charms was more of your strong suit while the boys caused explosion after explosion, perfecting their concoctions. As weeks turned into months, you and Fred felt as though you were really living a couple’s life. Waking up wrapped in each other’s arm without the worry of being caught, making and eating breakfast to tunes on the radio, dancing to a record player as day bled into night and your feet finally got sore.

This is how fairy tale characters must feel after their story ends, you’d think every day, happy and so deeply in love, relishing every moment together and at peace.

You’d finally been introduced to Mrs. Weasley that coming Christmas, her tender love really made you feel welcome and almost moved you to tears.

“It’s nice to see Freddie finally found someone who loves him as much as you do, I can see it in your eyes darling, you’re perfect for him.”

Fred never understood why they said ‘fall’ in love, sure you may feel your senses fade at times but it was never like a fall. If it made sense he’d say he rose into love for you. You brought him to cloud nine, you raised his spirits whenever you joked with him when he was down. You raised the corners of his lips into a smile by just existing. You raised him further towards his dreams and supported him no matter what. Ironically, he dropped to his knee to propose to you, just like he had in your sixth year at the Yule Ball, once again pouring his heart out to you, this time to truly make you his.

“Here we are again, love.” He laughed as he fell to his knee behind you in a muggle park not too far from Diagon Alley.

“Darling, I love you. I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You push me towards my dreams, comfort me when I’m upset, and make me smile every single day. I realized how much I needed you back in our sixth year, but today I ask you to seal the deal and become, y/n Weasley?”

It is hard to define love, so many forms of it, so many ways to express it and spread it to the people around you, but when Fred Weasley proposed to you, people looked over and felt the unconditional love between two people that brought tears to their eyes. When Fred Weasley looked at you, you were his everything. His past, present and future, his calm during a storm, his brightest star.

When Y/n said yes, you could hear the love of the purest of heart. The love of a best friend and a partner.

Love opens the best in us, it reveals pieces of us never seen before and unlocks emotions never known. Fred could now ensure a smile on your face for the rest of your days, and the childhood pining could finally rest knowing you would be with this man forever.

When the war finally pulled the wizarding world into the dark, the prankster and the dreamer knew they wouldn’t be able to stand to the side. They needed to help bring back the peace, and they would fight beside the people they cared about. The wedding was postponed until further notice, but it was sworn on a pinky promise that as soon as the chaos was over, you’d pick up where you left off and walk down the aisle in your white dress.

As you stood on the Hogwarts school ground, death eaters on every side and Voldemort cackling maniacally, you reached out for your prince’s hand. Closing your eyes to regain your calm before you had to charge into the incoming fight. Fred had squeezed your hand before pressing his lips to yours in the most passionate kiss the two of you had ever shared.

Looking back, you should’ve held Fred there with you, by your side throughout the entire fight. You should have kept your hands interlocked, standing tall by each other’s side, an unbreakable force to be reckoned with.

Instead the two of you charged forward separated, fighting close, but by your friends’ sides, throwing spell after spell to inch closer to a brighter future. Pain didn’t matter, each wave of your wand could be a step closer to a happy tomorrow.

It was almost thrilling fighting by your classmate, protecting them brought a new sense of purpose to your being and drowned out everything else to focus on the task at hand. Things were turning your way, Neville slayed that dreaded snake, Harry returned, Voldemort would never win now right? Everything would turn out fine. Right?

How wrong you were.

Victory was within reach, death eaters were filtering into smaller numbers and your friends were still alive. Your head was swivelling for your love, the only thought on your mind being to find your prince, your knight, the love of your life. The flash of red hair was just ahead, the light at the end of the tunnel was right there. You called out his name and his head whipped to meet yours. Your eyes met and you could see your future, your wedding, a family, growing old with this man.

Then the rubble fell, and in a flash, everything was taken away from you.

It is hard to define love, but when witches and wizards heard the shrill cry of a heart being torn in half, they could feel the love y/n l/n held for Fred Weasley. The pure, unconditional love that would’ve withstanded the test of time and any problem life could throw her way. The love that had so much hope many people turned away, it was too much to bear. The love that had you digging even though your hands were scabbed and bleeding.

Now when you ask how Fred Weasley showed his love in this scenario, the only thing to say was he died with a smile on his face. He died knowing his last sight was the love of his life running towards him, ready to turn to the next chapter of their lives.

You dug through the rock frantically, grasping onto the hope that for some divine reason Fred could be alive.

This isn’t how the story is supposed to end, your prince was supposed to wrap you into your arms and every problem was supposed to melt away, you were supposed to marry, kiss in front of all your family and friends and live the rest of your days together.

Realization hit you like a speeding train, you were never going to walk down the aisle to see Fred’s reaction to you in a white dress, you were never going to hold your child in your arms and see Fred become the amazing father you knew he would become. You were never going to see him grey and old, still a prankster and still deeply in love. You were never going to feel his lips against yours ever again. Hear his whispers in your ear about how much he loved you, or his melodic laugh that brought butterflies to your stomach every time.

Turns out, the villain of your story wasn’t unrequited love, it wasn’t Umbridge or even Voldemort. It was something even more cruel and insufferable. Death is not something humans really understand, even the most powerful witches and wizards cannot deny that death will come upon you, it is inevitable. There is so much about death we do not understand. All we know is one minute they’re here, the next they’re gone. But you might say, this is a fairy tale, there’s bound to be a happy solution and our lovers will get their happy ending. No, this is reality and our lovers were not that lucky, and the loss of half a heart is not something to be taken lightly.

“No.”

When Fred’s body was retrieved, you were joined by the rest of the Weasley family in their grieving, and while you could never understand what it would be like to lose a brother and a son, you’d lost the man you were going to spend the rest of your days with, and that left a hole in your heart never to be repaired, never to heal.

To lose a lover, but to hold their lifeless body in your arms is a surreal feeling you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, it’s something that has the power to break even the strongest people and make the most positive lose hope. Every ounce of love in your being spilt through tears that held every wish and hope you’ve ever had. That day you lost your feeling of freedom, and a sick sense of being trapped plagued your every move.

This isn’t how the story was supposed to end.

“What happened to their ‘happily ever after?” A young girl asks her father.

“Well young y/n, as you may know you were named after the very girl who fell in love with my brother and lost everything. Some say she died of a broken heart, others say Freddie came back and took her away to paradise.” An older George Weasley smiles down at his young daughter, snuggled in blankets, clutching a picture frame in her small hands.

“But why couldn’t uncle Fred come back? I thought every fairy tale ends with a happily ever after, those were aunt y/n’s favourite stories right?” Young y/n’s brown eyes flash in confusion and hurt as she lowers the photo of you to her lap.

“Yes, they were her favourite. There was no doubt her and Fred had a love greater than any fairy tale, but not all love stories get a ‘happily ever after.’ Sometimes it’s just a ‘once upon a time.”

[spinoff-antithesis]

love yourself

summary: sick and tired of feeling the way you've been feeling for years, you finally suck it up and go to the one gem you can think of for advice: garnet. ship: garnet x reader disclaimer: all i own is the plot in itself. an: human reader! platonic relationship. reader is eighteen and aromantic/asexual. requested by one of my friends. warning for aphobia.

can also be found on quotev

Love.

One word, one syllable, four letters. A universal word that every language had, and in every language it meant the same.

Everyone felt love. Everyone loved someone. Love was a word that every teenager dreamed of saying to their "special someone". Children grew up telling their parents "I love you" and their parents returning the three-word phrase (while some children weren't as lucky). Friends would platonically say their "I love you"s. Even you had grown up saying it.

But just because you said it, didn't mean you understood what it meant.

Love was a finicky subject around you. You had tried looking up why you never felt the emotion love. All you got were sites saying that you maybe just hadn't found the right person yet. A handful of sites said that you might fall into the aromantic-spectrum. You didn't believe the latter; instead, you opted for not having found the right person. That was in ninth grade.

In tenth grade, while you listen to your friends drone on about how 'hot' someone was, all you could do was look at the picture of the person and simply shrug and say "I don't really see it but okay."

When you turned seventeen, you still didn't understand the concept of falling in love or finding someone 'hot'. One of the several people you were friends with on Tumblr finally sent you links to several websites, each explaining aromanticism and asexuality in detail. You had messaged them back, saying, 'I'm still not sure if this is who I am. I'll keep this in mind though. Thank you.'

About a month before your eighteenth birthday, you finally understood what they meant. Figuring out that you really were an aromantic asexual... It felt like something both in and out of place.

You were now a senior at your high school, sitting in your Pre-Calculus class with a blank expression on your face. Your teacher hadn't come that day, and instead had sent a substitute. So, you sat doodling in your notebook, thinking.

You had tried coming out to several people. Your friends at school? Only a few accepted you. The others just scoffed and said "You're nuts and boring, (y/n)." You hadn't talked to them since, obviously. Your friends on Tumblr widely accepted you. Your mother? Yeah... Not so much. You had tried explaining what aromantic and asexuality were to her. She had barely grasped the topic of aromantic and did not believe anything about asexuality. She just simply said that "you're not a plant, (y/n)."

And then, of course, there were the gems. You hadn't told them anything. Truth be told? You really didn't plan to. While you tried your hardest to be optimistic and think that they'd accept you and wouldn't treat you differently, there was always that small, haunting thought that kept popping back up. They won't accept you. They'll think you're nuts, just like the girls you used to call friends. So, for a while, you just opted out of telling.

However, more recently, more and more people in your school had found out about what you had labelled yourself as. "Aromantic?" they'd ask. "I don't believe it. You said you loved drawing, didn't you?" "Asexual? Pfh. What are you, a plant? A worm?"

All week, you'd been trying to find the confidence to go, find, and ask for help. And all week, your self-doubt kept coming back and saying that no one would help you. You were beginning to grow relentless though. You pulled your phone out of your (color) hoodie pocket and stared at the turned-off screen blankly before turning it on and unlocking it. You scrolled through your contacts and finally tapped on Steven's name.

Steven. He was like a little brother to you. You had met the gems through him. It had been awkward when you had first met them, but almost a year and a half later, you felt yourself close to the gems. You liked all of them, equally. Amethyst's care-free personality always stuck out to you. Pearl's tender carefulness hidden behind a teacher and a warrior. Garnet's toughness and ability to stay strong, no matter the situation. You had learned through Steven about Garnet being a fusion after he had been taken to space and honestly, you found it to be adorable. You'd have no idea at first glance that Garnet was a fusion of love. Mostly because she was so stoic and silent.

Taking a breath, you shot Steven a quick text asking if you could come over after school to ask Garnet something. You didn't have to wait long for a response. 'Yeah!!! I'll let her know!' he had responded. You couldn't help but smile at the fourteen-year-old's excitement. Steven was such a character and you loved him for it.

There the word was again. Love. Was it really love you felt for Steven? Of course, the friendly older-sister type love. Maybe it was just an affection for the younger boy. You did see him as the younger brother you always wanted.

The shrill sound of a bell ringing brought you out of your daze and you shoved your notebook into your backpack and your phone back into the pocket from which you had grabbed it. Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you walked out of the classroom and past your locker, deciding that you wouldn't need anything from it.

You began the trek to the nearest bus stop. A little over ten minutes later, you were walking down to the beach, heading straight for Steven's. You felt uneasy and began questioning yourself. You did have to ask someone. Maybe Garnet held the answers you needed? You hoped she did. Now, more than ever? You really needed them.

You made your way up the steps and knocked on the screen door. You heard the sound of someone falling onto the floor and you couldn't help but chuckle. Steven's excited face was soon seen behind the film of the screen door and you smiled, looking down at him as he opened it.

"(Y/n)!" he said excitedly. You laughed, placing a hand on his messy mop of brown curls.

"Hey Steve-dude. How you doin'?" you asked, stepping inside so he could close the door. You walked over to the couch and placed your backpack on the ground, turning around as Steven walked over to you. He was barefoot, you noted, which slightly surprised you. He usually wore his sandals wherever he was.

"I'm good!" he responded. "Garnet's in the Temple. One sec," he said. "Garnet!" he yelled, cupping his hands over his mouth to make his voice louder. You cringed slightly at how loud his voice was. "(Y/n) is here!"

You sat down on the couch and motioned for Steven to join you. "It'll probably take Garnet a minute anyway. Wanna tell me how you've been since my last visit?" you asked, an excited gleam in your eyes. You always loved hearing stories about Steven and his adventures. In return, you always told him about how your day was in high school. You were surprised about how excited he always was.

The two of you elapsed into an easy conversation. A few minutes after the two of you had been talking, you heard the Temple door open. You and Steven both turned to look at it. You watched as Garnet walked out of the door and your smile faded into a small frown. While talking to Steven, you had almost forgotten about why you had come here.

"Hey Garnet," you said quietly, offering her a small wave. You usually felt a tinge of awkwardness around the gems (you didn't know them as well as Steven did). Usually, you felt fine around them. Almost like they were family.

"Hello," Garnet responded calmly. Steven stood up and you heard movement. Turning your head, you and Garnet both watched as Steven pulled on his shoes and grabbed something.

"I'm going out to the boardwalk. You guys want anything?" he asked politely. You both politely declined and he left. The screen door slammed shut behind him.

You turned back to Garnet, who was now moving towards the couch. She sat next to you and you shifted a tad so that you could look directly at her.

"Steven said you wanted to talk to me about something," she stated in her usual calm approach.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes," you responded, beginning to regret coming here. "I..." Sighing, you began fiddling with your fingers. "For the past few years, I've been beginning to realize a few things about myself." You were struggling to keep your gaze on Garnet's mostly baby blue shades. "I... I don't understand the concept of 'love'. I know what it is. It just doesn't... Feel natural to me." Your gaze had dropped from Garnet to your hands. "A-and I don't feel attraction. Towards- towards anybody. I never have. One of my friends told me about something... Something called aromantic and asexuality. They- they said that that could be what I am. But I..."

"You need advice to know if it really is you," Garnet spoke. Her voice was calm, yet it sounded more motherly than it usually did (well, around you at least). You found yourself nodding.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you blinked, looking up at Garnet. She had removed her shades (they were currently sitting in her lap), and her three eyes stared into two eyes. "Yeah," you whispered in a faint voice. Garnet simply offered you a small smile.

"I can assure you that it's a possibility," she said. "It's alright to not feel romantic or sensual attraction towards another person. It's alright if you let it define you." You blinked, eyes wide in surprise.

"But-"

"There are humans out there who are just like you, (y/n). Humans who don't fall in love with someone. Humans who don't feel attracted to other people, even though they feel everyone else is." You took a shaky breath, feeling your eyes become misty. "And even if they feel that way... It doesn't mean that they still can't find things they love. You could still love someone and not have any romantic attraction towards them."

You felt a tear escape your eye and Garnet pulled you into a hug. You broke into sobs, wrapping your arms around Garnet's waist, clinging onto her tightly. Garnet's left hand rested on the back of your head while her right hand rested on your back.

"It's okay if you don't feel like it's still you," Garnet said after a minute, as you began to calm down. "It might take time to come to peace with this truth."

"Even if it does," you murmured, sniffing, "I hope it's worth the wait." Garnet let you go and you did the same. Sitting up, you wiped at your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie while Garnet put her shades back on.

"Hey, Garnet..." You said quietly, taking a deep breath. You looked up at the tall gem and offered her a genuine smile. "Thank you- for... For the support."

The fusion smiled gently. Before she could say anything, Steven entered the house, holding a bag (donuts? It didn't look like a bag from the fry shop). He glanced at the two of you and awkwardly stood there.

"Hey Steven," you said, offering him a smile. He stood in silence for a moment before smiling as well.

"I got you a doughnut! I didn't know what you liked so I just got you a plain one," he said earnestly. You laughed, an honest smile crossing your features. Garnet smiled behind you as Steven walked over, handing you the glazed doughnut.

"Thank you, Steven," you said, continuing to smile. The boy sat next to you on the couch and the three of you sat in silence.

As you headed home that day, all you could think about was how validated you felt. You felt like you had finally found out a piece of yourself. You finally felt like you weren't broken; not screwed up.

And as you closed your eyes to sleep, you couldn't erase the permanent smile that lingered on your face.

[soclosewiz]

Proper Nowhere

El Salto was the place where everything changed for me on my first trip south of the American border. One year ago I traveled here expecting the unexpected, but I never could have guessed how much it would change my life. Before that trip, I had been living my life in a very predictable way: work during the week, climb during the weekends, and plan semi-annual trips with a few close friends. After a particularly successful vacation to the Red River Gorge in November of 2016, I came back to Seattle knowing I needed to get away again as soon as possible. Somehow that led to me planning a trip to Mexico with two people I barely knew that December.  

That trip changed me forever. Even a year later it’s no exaggeration to say I fell in love. Every day, in every moment, I was consciously aware that I had somehow unlocked a level of happiness I had never felt before. It lit a fire inside me for not just climbing itself, but travelling, meeting new people, experiencing new things, and all that the dirtbag lifestyle encompasses. I could feel that my life was about to change, as long as I was willing to let it; something that doesn’t come easy to me, yet I felt like I’d subconsciously been waiting for it for a long time. I eased into it over some long and influential spring travels until I was ready to fully move into my car and let the road lead wherever it did at the end of summer.

Deciding where to go on my travels came easy for a while, until suddenly it wasn’t. Cold weather and the winter holidays loomed on the horizon, and I was faced with a decision: to return to Mexico, or to attempt to find psyche in places where I either had no partners, or no desire to climb in the States. All along I knew there was only one answer, but I felt a strange reluctance to return to the place where it all started. I was afraid of what I would find upon returning to a place that had changed my life in such a big way—what if it wasn’t the same? What if it was? Christmas came and went and I still couldn’t commit to going farther south than Arizona, until finally one day I learned all my partners had cleaned out the gear we had stashed at the crag and were leaving within 48 hours to a place I knew I didn’t belong. It was time to face the music.

On December 26th as I walked out the door of the Chipotle in Sedona to knock a few hours off the drive, I got a message from a friend overseas asking if I would be in El Paso the next day and if I could help out his stranded friend. I had my doubts about picking up a hitchhiker, especially when I learned it was actually two of them plus a dog. Nonetheless I discarded my inhibitions and allowed the pair to curl up on my bed as I ferried them across the entire state of Texas. I got them through two border patrol checkpoints and a whole lot of what we called “Proper Nowhere” until we parted ways in Laredo. I thought it fitting, that my return to Mexico would start with an experience so far outside my usual status quo. I took it as a good omen of things to come, because Mexico was always about learning how much better life can be outside my comfort zone.  

Waiting for me in Mexico was a diverse blend of the usual suspects from last year, plus many of the people with whom I’d been climbing over the last few months. Both groups were people who had gone from complete strangers to like family in just the few weeks I’d known them. I guess that’s what happens when you spend almost all of your time with people, camping, eating, climbing, relaxing, even working—friendships get fast tracked. I had come to El Salto for two main reasons: to party with these friends, and to try and send a specific route: El Infierno de Dante.

I had tried the route before and walked away uninspired: long runouts at the cruxes make it hard to work the moves when you are just beginning the process and the route is at your (my) limit, plus something about it just didn’t light that fire in me to make me want to really sink my teeth in. At the same time it’s hard for me to ever really let a route go, and it had been sitting in the back of my mind for the last twelve months as reminder of a time that I had given up. Unlike other climbs of the upper 5.13/lower 5.14 range I’d done, this one I knew was within my ability if I embraced the projecting process and approached it with commitment and patience.

I find in my climbing that I go back and forth between two different phases—mainly what I consider to be project mode and vacation mode. In vacation mode I am out climbing purely for the love of the sport and all it entails. Failure or success, at the end of the day I’m still having a big dinner with my friends, drinking beer, and focusing on enjoying every moment of this beautiful life. In project mode I am an athlete, disciplined and focused, willingly sacrificing all indulgences in pursuit of whatever climb has become my latest obsession. The tricky thing about these two modes is that they both make me feel really good in very different ways, and I often wonder if I’m focusing on the right thing. When I’m relaxing, I miss feeling strong and in shape, having big successes in my climbing and feeling confident about myself. When I’m dedicated and honed in on an objective, I wonder if my sacrifices are worth missing the fun nights of drinking, staying up late, and eating excessive amounts of chocolate.

Perhaps the fiddliest part of the split-climbing-personality conundrum is that I can’t just choose to flip the switch between the two modes on a whim. Vacation mode is easy, but entering project mode requires a goal, and it has to be one that really inspires me. There’s a certain feeling I’ve found about my proudest sends during the process that made me really truly care, and it doesn’t come around all that often. I may decide to work a certain route, but at the end of the day if I don’t want it bad enough that I fall asleep thinking about it, doodle its name in the margins of a notebook, and feel my face light up whenever someone asks how it’s going, the relationship is doomed to fail.

The last spark I’d chased before Mexico was Rude Boys (which was perhaps a bit forced), and before that City Park. I’d done a few low 5.13s here and there, but nothing had really struck me on that level in many months. I did want to go out there and see just what I was made of, test my limits and try and be my best self as a climber, but I had to wait for the calling. Finally it came, and I was ready and eager to answer when it did. Day two in Mexico I quested up Dante’s Inferno and felt the stirrings of that feeling I had been so long without. I was inspired.

Dante’s Inferno is perhaps the most well-known hard climb in El Salto, which adds a certain aura of history that always draws me to a climb. It consists of 40 meters of resistance climbing, passing through two very sustained cruxes to the mid-way anchor, and then one last sting in the tail a few bolts from the top. The moves are hard, not getting too pumped is even harder, but simply keeping your mind engaged for that much climbing is perhaps the hardest part.

After a week or so of effort I slowly built up enough endurance to know I had a shot, yet I battled with bad skin that didn’t seem to recover on my rest days. After a long mid-day nap one day, I tied in with fingertips so raw it hurt to take my jacket off for one last fitness burn (aka an attempt with low hopes of success but done anyway for the training benefit). My friend Tanager had just told me that all of her best sends had been after a nap, and another friend who had just sent the route said he had done it with terrible skin as well, so I decided to go ‘a muerte’ even though it was my fifth attempt in two days and I was exhausted.

Screaming on every move, I managed to battle to the first anchors for the first time and partway to the second. By the time that I fell, I was so exhausted that I couldn’t even get through the final crux to work out beta for any redpoint attempts on the extension. It was success nevertheless, resulting in much celebration after a local adventure movie led to a wild dance party lasting late into the night.

One extremely hungover rest day and a mini break climbing on other routes later, I knew it was time to go back for the extension. The weather had gotten hot, and many people were losing psyche for Las Animas, the wall on which Dante’s is located. I had a few partners still interested, but as the morning stretched on they remained at camp, going about their day in leisurely style while I paced around in agitation. I watched minutes tick by as calculations ran through my mind—if we leave right now, there will still be time to warm up and have an attempt before the wall goes into the sun.

When it became clear that things were not happening, I left for the crag by myself, hoping to beg a belay off someone already there. Up until then it had been so crowded that you could barely weasel your way in line for a warmup, but suddenly there was no one at the wall when I arrived. I sat around for a while before deciding I was wasting my time, letting toxic thoughts flood my brain as I began hiking out in defeat.

Just then, two friends rounded the corner and called out a greeting and that they were there to belay and support. Having stopped by our camp that morning and heard of my tragic plight, they were happy to help. The sun was already creeping across the wall towards Dante’s, so I decided to forego a warmup and just go for it. I needed to work out that upper crux, so it wasn’t a send go anyway. It wasn’t a send go, except the higher I got the more it felt like maybe it could be. The rock was cool but not cold, I was fresh but not shaky, and moves that had felt desperate felt completely controlled. Before I knew it, I was staring down the upper crux with no choice but to wing it—no real beta, but I wasn’t that pumped and the sun still hadn’t made the route too hot to climb.

I pulled into the final hard moves of the boulder problem, toeing down on glassy pebbles so carefully that I knew I’d never let a fall happen because of slipping. Suddenly it was all over and I called out to my friends in excitement that “It’s going down right now!” even though I still had a few bolts of easy climbing to the top. I knew wouldn’t fall there.

Afterwards as I traded my climbing shoes for a belay device to support another no-warmup send by a friend, I couldn’t help but stare at Dante’s and feel a strange sense of melancholy. I felt like I had only just started to get to know the climb and it was already over. I was beyond proud of how quickly I’d done it; five or six days of work to clip the chains on my second 5.14 is pretty exciting, but I wasn’t ready to let go of that powerful inspiration I had finally managed to track down. I had been mentally prepared for a brutal battle, in which I fell at the upper crux dozens of times, went home in tears day after day, and questioned the meaning of life as I fought highs and lows of self-doubt. You know, the usual projecting M.O.

Ever since last year, a part of me knew that Dante’s was one of those routes that I just had to come back for. Who can say why, but there are certain climbs that sit at the back of my mind, waiting for the day when I’m ready to lay it all on the line and go to war. Luckily I still have a few weeks here to see if the next inspiration lies somewhere between these limestone tufas and calcified stalactites, and if not, to simply bask in the warm Mexican sun eating Elotes and being grateful to not be freezing in the Seattle winter rain. I had my doubts about returning to Mexico, but in the end and as always, the Wash provides.