okay, so, 30 (tourist/knowledgeable local au)
go go go
this turned into tourist/park ranger au and is heavily/entirely based on a hike i went on in arches national park years and years ago. slot canyons my beloved. please reblog if ya like it!
“Alright?”
“Great,” Ava says, trying not to look down into the canyon between her feet and the rest of the hiking trail. It’s maybe two feet wide and a long way down. Beatrice holds her hand out over the gap, and Ava takes it. She doesn’t even try not to enjoy the warmth of Beatrice’s hand or the callouses on her palm. Thirsting after her park ranger guide on a group hike definitely isn’t the highest point of Ava’s life, but it’s not the lowest, either, and she’s refusing to feel shame about it. It’s not her fault that Beatrice somehow makes a park ranger uniform look good. It should be impossible, between the pleated trousers and the baggy grey shirt and the stupid, stupid, stupid hat, but Ranger Beatrice is doing it. Ava has been at the front of the pack through the whole hike, throwing in an occasional glance at the shape of Beatrice’s arms beneath the short sleeves of her shirt amongst the views of slot canyons and rocky vistas.
“Ma’am?”
Ava blinks. She’s still holding onto Beatrice’s hand, and has yet to take the step over the canyon before her.
“Ava,” Ava says. “Ma’am was my mother.” She makes a face. What did she just say?
“Ava,” Beatrice says. Oh, Ava likes that. She really likes that, the way Beatrice’s accent turns over the second a in her name. “Just one step. The more you look down the worse it seems.”
“For sure.” Ava decides to let Beatrice think she’s afraid of heights. At least for now. She’s getting, like, major gay vibes, so maybe she can correct that misunderstanding at a later date.
Ava takes the step.
“One small step for Ava, right?” Ava says, looking up from her hiking boots to grin at Beatrice. Beatrice smiles back at her, which is just—devastating. Ava will never be the same.
“One giant leap for Ava-kind,” Beatrice agrees. She squeezes Ava’s hand before she lets it go, and Ava has to clench her jaw shut to keep from doing something embarrassing like asking her to do it again. Or moaning.
They follow the trail as a group as it narrows between two rock walls, then widens again, letting them out into a sort of split in the side of the solid rock hill, rock faces soaring a dozen feet high on either side of them. It affords them an incredible view of the desert out beneath them, sand and rocks and hills. Beatrice stops near the far end of the open space, turning and waiting as the hiking tour group files in behind her.
“Everyone doing alright?” Beatrice says. Ava watches as she does a quick headcount, following along with the numbers Beatrice mouths. If that involves staring at her lips, well, Beatrice probably can’t tell. Beatrice nods a moment later, apparently satisfied with the number of hikers gathered before her.
“This is my favorite spot in the entire park,” Beatrice says. “If you’ll all entertain it a moment, I’d like to tell you why.”
“Go for it,” Ava says. She’s the only person in the group to speak aloud. Beatrice glances at her, and Ava refuses to be embarrassed, offering an encouraging grin.
“Well, if Ava approves,” Beatrice says with a smile. She reaches up and takes off her hat. Several strands of brown hair have escaped their neat bun, and she brushes them back with one hand while the other holds her hat against her side. “My first summer in the park, I was cleaning cabins. I graduated college and lost contact with my entire family not long afterwards. It was a very difficult and confusing time in my life. I thought that I had made a mistake in coming to the US. I thought that I had made a mistake by coming here. I thought that I was in the wrong, that it was my fault somehow that my parents weren’t accepting of me. That it was my fault I was different.”
Gay, gay, super gay, totally gay. Ava agrees with the voice in her head and then tells it to shut up. There’s a rehearsed quality to Beatrice’s voice—Ava suspects she gives this speech on every one of these hikes—but there’s something genuine in it, too, and Ava wants to listen.
“One day towards the end of July—the hottest day I’d ever experienced up til then, being from England,” Beatrice says, “a friend I’d made, a ranger, took me up here. She sat me down and told me to talk to the desert, and ask it if I’d made a mistake. And then she went back up the canyon to give me some privacy. I sat here for ten minutes before I finally did it. The desert did not answer.” A ripple of quiet laughter goes around the group. Ava doesn’t join in. She’s transfixed by the look on Beatrice’s face, a little half-smile that Ava wants to stare at forever. “But on the hike back out I found a tarantula on my backpack.”
“And that made you want to stay?” Ava says. Beatrice glances at her.
“The tarantulas are a very important part of the ecosystem, Ava,” Beatrice says. Ava shuts her mouth and busies herself with the lid of her water bottle. “But yes, it did. It felt like…the desert was calling me stupid for even asking. What does a bunch of sand and rock care if I’m here or not? Have a spider for your troubles, you idiot.” More laughter, and Beatrice laughs quietly at herself this time. “But the people do care. My friend cared to take me here and show me all that sand and rock. And I care to show it to all of you. It’s my job, yes, but it’s only my job because it matters to me. And I hope that it matters to all of you.” She takes a deep breath and puts her hat back on.
“So,” she says. “On the way down the hill, if you want to, I hope that you’ll all ask the desert a question. Doesn’t have to be out loud, don’t worry. The sand won’t hear you either way. And I can’t promise you a tarantula, although some of you may be grateful for that”—no fucking kidding—“but I can promise that the desert won’t answer. And I can promise that that will be more comforting than it sounds.” Beatrice pauses for a moment. Ava might be in love with her. “Are we all ready to start?” There’s a general murmur of assent, and Beatrice turns away from the group, leading them towards the trail out of the split in the rock and down the hill. Ava hurries to catch up to her.
“So,” she says as she draws up shoulder-to-shoulder to Beatrice. Beatrice looks over at her. “Quite the story.”
“I suppose.”
“All true?”
“Of course.” Beatrice shakes her head slightly, amused and scandalized by the idea of lying.
“Got any more stories you’d like to share?” Ava says. “Maybe over a beer or something?” Beatrice is silent for long enough that Ava’s rapid, anticipatory heartbeat turns worried and even faster. “That can be my question for the desert,” Ava says. “If you want. Don’t want. Whatever.”
“Asking the desert to have a drink with you,” Beatrice says. “How unconventional.” Ava shrugs.
“I’m not really the conventional type.”
“No?” Ava shakes her head. Beatrice looks down the trail. “I’m done for the day after this tour,” she says. “There’s not many bars worth visiting around here, but if you’d like to come by my cabin, I make an acceptable gin and tonic.”
“High praise,” Ava says. “There’s literally two things in that drink.”
“Three,” Beatrice says. “There’s lime.” She pauses. “Four. And ice.”
“Sold on the ice,” Ava says. “How the fuck do you do this hike in July?” Beatrice laughs, a sharp, abrupt noise, like it’s been startled out of her. Ava’s hands clench into fists at her sides, trying to catch it in her fingertips.
“You get used to it,” Beatrice says. “Now watch where you’re going. You’ve been missing all the views staring at me.” Ava flushes pink at being caught, but she obeys, turning her head and watching the desert stretch out before her.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't.
oooh boy. haley @thecousinsdangereux and i have an absolutely brilliant model au for rwby that we wrote maybe two pages of, several years ago. weiss was an absolutely supreme cunt, and blake and yang were exceedingly horny for each other. to date it contains haley's favorite sentence i've ever written and we still like to tell ourselves we'll write it
33. Give your writing a compliment.
i think i am extremely good at conveying emotion and specifically the intensity of love
it's so much. I am realising I didn't remember half of it and oh man I'm loving rediscovering it. the mix of child agency but also having Good Adults to turn to for guidance and support. Paton's everything. Fidelio showing up and immediately going ride-or-die. Charlie barely giving it a moment's thought before letting Gabriel keep his cloak
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
for @piratekane who answered this post with:
“gimme bly”
It’s a different kind of anxious current that pulses in her veins the rest of the day. A hurried sort of thing, as though she’s rushing to a finish line that’s standing right in front of her, offering up reassuring smiles and a concerned, furrowed brow.
Only, Flora’s not herself and that means she needs her.
But it’s got her dragging restless fingers through her hair just the same, worrying bed-tousled curls into a tangled mess until she finally rescues it with a scrunchie.
And it’s a wonder really, that she makes it as far as dinner before she’s twisting herself in Jamie’s direction again, leaning sideways off her chair to be close to her.
Because Flora’s in bed, safe, sleeping, she tells herself.
Because nobody really needs her, when Miles is laughing around a second helping like the most normal ten-year-old boy in the world and Hannah is smiling in that soft, approving way she does each time she looks at her and Jamie…
Jamie is scrubbed clean from a day in the garden, shifting closer, too, beaming in a shirt lifted off the floor of a room upstairs that morning.
It’s a different kind of anxious current that pulses in her veins, when they’re close enough to touch. To brush fingers beneath the table, soft and fleeting as Owen regales them with stories. To lean towards each other when a truly awful pun has them all laughing. To be near enough to smell the warm comfort of earth, lingering on Jamie’s skin like Mother Nature herself applied a drop of perfume.
Not a hurried sort of thing, though, when the finish line is sitting right beside her, offering up a wide, intoxicating smile and the safety net of laughter. Not a hurried sort of thing at all, when a hand lands gracefully on her thigh.
