#I helped anxiety camper get through it! we were buds!

[raycatz]

I DID MY CAMP INTERVIEW AND IT WENT WELL AND I HAVE A JOB THIS SUMMER YEEEAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

now to crumple on the floor and hhhhhhh destress, breathe? aha...

o|<

[moccahobi]

Flames of Life [Yoonji x Reader]

Rating: General audiences

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Pairing: gender swapped Yoongi x reader

Word count: 1k words

Warnings: None really, except maybe stress

Prompt: Bonfire

[A/N]: Thank you @purpleskies1999​ for this amazing banner! I love it so so much. It is so fun. This is the FIRST SUBMISSION I HAVE FOR @btsholidaybingo​! I have some more in the works and hopefully another coming out this weekend... but I have been slow!

On a more serious note, I wrote this after a really challenging day. This is entirely a writer insert that I have disguised as a reader insert haha. But I wanted to write something that was Yoongi, our lovely therapist who I love and admire, comforting me (and any reader) after a hard day. Oh and also... I am kinda very bisexual and I was craving a gorl. So... we get Yoonji instead!  

Crackle. Snap. 

The bonfire in front of you was blazing brilliantly, making the whole forest around it look small and dark in comparison. It was a roaring life that flickered and grew (in the firepit) and called every living thing to look at it like a siren call. From tree branches, birds and squirrels pirched, some even dared to come close to it and soak up the warmth that it offered. 

Crackle.

The world around you faded away as you stared pensively at the cackling fire, its embers fluttering out and scalding the bare dirt it landed on. It was more wild and alive than you had felt in a long time and looking at it, you felt invigorated and relaxed. All your troubles melted away as you kept staring, the fire and its life consuming you and making them seem miniscule. Classes didn’t matter. Surgeries were no more. Familial troubles were gone too. 

Crackle. Snap.

For once, everything was simple and sweet and nice.

Snap. Snap. Crackle.

A sweet and soothing chuckle drifted up and broke you from your reprieve, “What are you thinking about, baby?” 

It was Yoonji, returning to the bonfire you two made with a glass of ice cold water from the nearby spring, condensation already forming on it and dripping onto the ground with each step she took. Gingerly, you took the cup from her and leaned into her warm embrace as she sat down on the log you were perched on. Her embrace was exponentially more soothing than the fire. Her warmth was a soft lullaby that protected you from the bite of the fall air and shoulderd some of your worries. 

Crackle.

At some point, her hand snuck up and started to carefully rub your head, her dull nails gently scraping against your scalp and sending soothing shivers down your body. A sigh left you as you slowly sipped your water and leaned deeper into Yoonji’s solid embrace.

This camping trip was the perfect thing you needed to relax.

Crackle. Crackle.

A whole weekend away from everything with the woman you loved more than anything. There were some moments on the trip and when setting up that were somewhat frustrating (two city folks trying to pitch a tent would cause some frustration), but when all was said and done, nature seemed to absorb your stress and ground you with a warm embrace. The bonfire was a wonderful icing on the cake that neither of you expected. Yooji and you were not skilled in making and setting fires, the skill all but melted away from years in the city (if either of you actually had it in the first place that is) and had expected to just eat cold food and be chilly. Luck was on your side though. A nice old couple were leaving and had bought too much fire supplies. They were trying to give it away to anyone who would take it. Yoonji convinced you to hide the offer from other campers and convince the old couple to give you all the wood. It was more than you needed for a two night stay so you made large fires.

Snap.

“What are you thinking of, baby?” She asked quietly, gently pulling you tighter against her and delivering a kiss on your neck.

It tickled you and a small giggle left you, “I am thinking about how happy I am to be here with you… and with such a nice fire.” 

“Yeah. This is really nice. We deserve this.” 

Snap. Crackle.

You giggled and nodded, setting your cup down on the ground before hugging Yoonji back, a sigh leaving her as you did.

“We’ve done so much hard work. You’ve done so so much work, Y/n-ah. I am so proud of you. You’re so incredibly strong.” 

Tears budded in your eyes and you quickly burrowed your face against Yoonji’s neck before taking a deep breath. The camping trip was supposed to help you relax. You’d been under so much stress. You’d cry multiple times a day, and get gnarly pimples that you’d pop and pick at and kept forgetting to eat until late into the day. It was bad. Which was partially why the two of you decided to drive three hours away on a planned weekend getaway from the city and life. You didn’t come here to cry though. That wasn’t part of the plan.

Crackle. Crackle.

“I am so proud of you, ya’ know that? You’re working hard and taking such challenging classes and doing so much work and it is hard and it’s ok to be stressed.”

A stuttered breath tore from you as tears made their way down your face and Yoonji gently rubbed your back and head, the occasional kiss landing on your shoulder and neck as more and more praises fell from her lips. 

“I love you, baby, and I am so proud of you.” 

Crackle.

When you eventually finished crying, the two of you stared off into the bonfire, its life and beauty entrapping both of you and taking your worries. No words were said for a long while that night. 

No words were needed. 

Under the soft glow of the warm fire and the gentle songs of forest animals, the only things that needed to be said had been. Together under the stars (in a tent that you had somehow pitched earlier that day), you and Yoonji fell asleep in eachothers arms.

Bonus:

You awoke with a start, anxiety pumping through your veins as you struggled to gather your bearings. A loud scream tearing you from a nice dream of baking with Yoonji and your family. Yoonji was the one screaming as the sun pierced through the tent and its respective rain tarp. 

“What is up, babe? Why are you screaming?”

She was still in your sleeping bag, her arms and legs tightly wrapped around you as she skook. 

“The-the-there are bugs…” 

It clicked. 

This was her first time camping. 

She didn’t expect the bugs to gather on top of your tent. 

A small  smile grew on your face, “Yes, babe. There are bugs. They like the heat that the tarp and our bodies provide.”

“I hate it. We’re never going camping again.”

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

Take Care

Summary: While on a hunt in West Virginia, the trio literally run into a group of campers. While on the search for some help they run into a new unknown foe. 

Pairing: Dean X reader, Sam x Reader,

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, horror movie scenes

Wrong Turn (2003) Fusion with Supernatural

2457 words.

Notes: Please note that I changed the plot a bit, because some of it would not make sense if the main characters were Dean and Sam Winchester. Just saying. 

Spoilers for Wrong Turn (2003) below.

The Impala screamed down the interstate, Dean drumming his fingers on the wheel, barely listening to Sam yammer on about the case we were heading toward. You smirked to yourself, one ear bud in your ear so you could hear the boys up front, and caught Dean throw you a wink in the rear-view window.

“So it looks like at least three people have gone missing in the last few days, two of them skilled free climbers. They haven’t found any bodies or proof that either of them were even there. Not even a vehicle.” Sam finished glancing up at the road from his phone a distant look in his eyes.

“How do we know they were ever there then?” Dean asked casually, maneuvering the car around a slow-moving pickup truck, placing both hands on the wheel for a moment.

“GPS.” Sam responded back. “Their phones were still on until recently.”

You glanced out the window at the highway rushing past, noticing how wooded this area was. You had never been to West Virginia, and certainly never this far off the grid, your phone losing service by the second. Huffing out a sigh, you put it on airplane mode to conserve the battery, clicking through your “Impala playlist.” You often got “road trip anxiety” as Dean liked to call it, and being sprawled out in the backseat with some music was the only cure. The Impala began to slow and you heard Dean curse under his breath, prompting you to pop your head up behind the front seat. There was a heavy traffic jam ahead, a couple semi-trucks nearest the car. Dean slowed the Impala to a stop and slammed his hand down on the dashboard in frustration.

“Relax,” Sam muttered, glancing back at you and rolling his eyes, before stepping out of the Impala up to the semi-trucks. All of the vehicles seemed to have their engines either idling or off, and you could hear Sam clearly up ahead.

“Hey, do you have an idea what’s going on up here,” Sam asked as a trucker with wild hair stuck his head out the window.

“Tractor jackknifed about five mile up,” the trucker responded, spitting some chew at Sam’s feet. “Spilled chemicals and shit all over the road.”

Sam glanced back at us quick before turning back to the trucker. “Any idea how long it’ll take to clean up?”

“Couple hours,” the guy responded, a sigh escaping from Dean’s mouth that identically matched the one out of Sam’s up ahead.

“You in a hurry?” The trucker continued. Sam glanced up at him quickly, clearly weighing his response. You were secretly glad that he decided to talk to the man rather than Dean. The older Winchester was good with people, but you could feel his frustration rising, having sat still for almost ten minutes now.

“Yeah,” Sam finally stated. “We,” he continued gesturing toward the Impala. “are trying to get up toward Raleigh by tonight.”

The trucker nodded, “Well, what you oughta do is get back in your car, fix your hair a couple hundred more times—”

“Thank you,” Sam simply stated walking away quickly before the guy could finish. You stifled a laugh in the backseat, and Dean was coughing into his hand to hide his own when Sam returned.

“Shut up.” Sam muttered. “Road won’t be clear for a while. Let’s back track and see if we can find another way.”

Dean nodded, cough laughing one more time before backing the Impala up expertly and heading in the opposite direction of the traffic jam. You all drove for another thirty minutes or so while Sam navigated toward some side roads, until his phone lost service completely, Dean shook his head in frustration and turned roughly onto a dirt road, a wooden sign stating “Gas, 1 Mile.” Pulling up to what could only be described as a shack, Dean parked the Impala and threw an arm over the bench seat, turning toward you.

“You don’t have to go to the bathroom, do you?” He asked lowly. You shook your head no, and he nodded his. “Good, stay in the car.” It was more of a demand than request, and normally you would fight him, but the abandoned gas station filled you with unease, and you felt much safer hunkered down in the backseat. Sam glanced at you and smiled, before opening the door with a creak.

_______________________________________________________________________

Dean mirrored his brother, and walked toward the man out front who was wearing nothing but a wife-beater and seemed to be sitting on a beer keg.

“Excuse me, sir,” Sam started, as the two approached. “Do you have a payphone?” The man gestured with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in his hand, and Sam headed in that direction, muttering that he was going to check in with Cas. Dean chose to keep close to the man and glance at the map framed on the wall next to him. The man continued to drink his Pepto quietly, letting it dribble down his chin. Sam stopped at the payphone, picking up the receiver and clicking the hook a couple times, before loudly dropped the receiver back down to its home.

“This one’s not working,” Sam huffed out. “Do you have another phone I could use?”

“Long distance?” The man asked quietly. Sam looked quickly at his brother for help, raising his arms and dropping them down slowly.

“What isn’t long distance from here?” Dean asked gruffly, coming to stand next to his brother, who was much more paitent.

“You cuttin’ wise with me son?”

“No,” Sam decided to cut in. “Sir, we are just looking to make a call.”

“Well, that’n there is my only phone.”

“Right.” Dean answered, shoving his hands into his pockets, and looking back at Y/N in the backseat. “The highway is really jammed up. Do you know of another route heading south?”

“Nope.”

Dean shook his head and headed back over to the map. “Why is this ‘Bear Mountain Road’ dotted on the map?” He asked, turning his head toward the man.

“Dirt. ‘fraid they ain’t got around to pavin’ it yet.”

“It looks like it runs into the highway about 15, 20 miles.” Dean said more to Sam than anyone else.

“If you say so.” The man answered anyway. Dean headed back toward the Impala, Sam following behind. “Thank you very much.” He said toward the man. “You take care.”

The boys were back into the Impala and tearing off with a cloud of dust, so they didn’t hear the man mutter after them, “You’re the one gonna need take care.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You all kept driving for another half hour or so, Dean finding the dirt road easily enough, and continuing down it, muttering to himself about washing Baby later. The road was surprisingly smooth, and Sam went back to checking out his phone for service, when the Impala suddenly seized up, jolting you to an upright position, your wrist steadying yourself on the side door and bending a little too far back. With the wheels locked up the Impala continued to slide on the smooth dirt, crashing harshly into a white jeep parked in the middle of the road, the screech of metal drowning out any other sounds.

“Y/N” you heard from your fog, shaking your head to hear more clearly.

“Sweetheart,” Dean said, pulling your face toward him lightly, his other hand grabbing at your hurt wrist. You hissed loudly, ripping it away, and leaning back into the seat out of his grasp. Sam was out of the car in a second and leaning into the backseat to look at both your head, which you only then realized was bleeding, and your wrist.  The Impala spinning and crashing caused you to hit your head as you weren’t buckled in from the awkward angle you were laying in. You muttered that you were fine, but Sam wasn’t listening, instantly going to wrap up your wrist, and apply a butterfly bandage to your head. You realized Dean wasn’t in the car any longer, and strained to see what was going on outside.

It looked like Dean was talking to a group of people, who were dressed like they were going hiking. They were talking animatedly, and Sam hurried wrapping up your wrist, so you both could get out of the car and investigate. Once he was done, you slipped out of the back seat to a standing position, testing your balance. Sam’s hand never left your lower back, keeping you steady as you walked up to the group.

“How did you blow your tires?” Dean was asking as we approached, a girl with short red hair explaining. “Someone left some barbed wire in the middle of the road.” Dean nodded his head, glancing at Baby and seeing identical barbed wire attached harshly to her front tires.

“I can’t believe someone just dropped it there,” the girl with the long brown hair said with exasperation, throwing her hands in the air.

“Nobody dropped anything.” Another woman stated, coming around the corner. “I just found this tied to a tree back there. Somebody did this.”

“Redneck hospitality at its finest,” the guy in the yellow shirt muttered in response. Dean shifted to put an arm around your shoulder protectively, noticing you standing next to him. He frowned at the bandage on your head and around your wrist, but you waved him off.

“I’m gonna try and find a phone,” the woman with the barbed wire discovery stated. “I think I saw a gas station like a couple miles back.”

“We were just there.” Sam stated, the newcomers turning toward him. “There is no phone.”

“Okay, why don’t we just wait for someone else to come along?” Another woman suggested, glancing from her group members to us.

“What like speed racer here?” The barbwire woman said, pointing at Dean who scowled, pulling you closer to him.

“Look, I’m not going anywhere.” The redhead stated, looking at the guy standing next to her, who must be her boyfriend. “You guys go and we’ll just stay here, Francine.” The new group continued to bicker about Francine and her boyfriend getting high when the woman with the long brown hair walked up to us.

“Hey,” she said. “What’re your names?” She looked genuinely curious.

“Dean,” He replied. “And this is Y/N and Sam.” Dean continued gesturing toward you and his brother. The Winchester’s were having a silent conversation about what to do next when the woman walked up. 

“You guys hurt?” She asked again casually. Sam and Dean shook their heads looking at you, and you did the same.

“Good,” The woman replied. “Then let’s go.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You walked along with three members of the other group, who you learned were Jessie, Carly, and her boyfriend Scott. The brothers decided to go along if only to find a phone and call up Cas. The road was flanked by deep woods on either side, giving the bright sunny day a clouded feel, and making you shiver slightly in your plain shirt, Dean reaching back to take your hand, but you brushed him off slightly, knowing he was only worried about you. The boys continued to walk, Sam asking Scott what they were all doing out here, quickly learning that the five of them were camping. Scott was very talkative, launching into a speech about trauma and slow-motion movements, making Dean chuckle lowly. You couldn’t help but be drawn to these people in a way that you haven’t been since meeting the Winchesters and joining them on the road. Scott was infectious, and Carly had a positivity about her that eased the entire group as they walked. Jessie was hard to read, but that made you like her even more, as she seemed to match Dean’s sarcasm and kept everyone on their toes.

You walked with everyone, silently taking it all in when the red and orange glow of a burning fire caught your eyes. You stopped abruptly, Dean following suite, looking up into the woods.

“Hello! Anyone up there!” Scott yelled from next to you. Dean looked at him cautiously, weighing rather to tell him to keep his voice down, when Sam spoke up.

“Somebody must have started it.” You all kept walking, you hanging behind to stare at the fire.

You couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched in those few moments. It made you uneasy, but you chalked it up to the many wild creatures who were sure to be buried in the dense forest.

The feeling didn’t last long, as you trudged quickly up a hill to keep up with the others, a wooden cabin coming into view. Scott and Carly ran up ahead, the brothers and you hanging back, not liking the look of the abandoned cabin.

“Looks like we’ve just been saved kids!” Scott yelled, heading toward the entrance. The cabin was surrounded by cars and looked like the roof was about to cave in.

“We make this quick.” Dean stated to you and Sam, Sam nodding, and reaching back for the gun hidden in his waistband. The land was filled with abandoned rusted cars and random objects, an old bike drawing your attention briefly. Dean approached the door and pulled at the screen.

“What are you doing?” Jessie asked cautiously.

Dean stopped, looking at her questioningly, used to the third degree from you, but not from a stranger.

“We need to see if they have a phone.” You stated quietly.

“And I have to pee.” Carly continued with a whine.

“Okay, but West Virginia and trespassing are not a good mix…” Scott answered trailing off lightly.

“Guys,” Sam started, always the voice of reason. “We have two wrecked cars…” Carly nodded vigorously, and Dean inched the door open further, entering the building.

The place was a complete mess, dust flying around and flies buzzing noisily. There were a few half eaten dinners set on the kitchen table, and a record playing on a phonograph in the corner.

“Okay, who lives here?” Scott asked, panic lacing his voice. “I think we should go.”

Dean continued to look around, Sam and you venturing further into the house while Carly and Scott continued to argue. Scott finally settled down and went to help Carly find a bathroom, opening a door to the side that was filled with random objects. You continued to look stumbling upon stacks of sunglasses and keys, items that made you all the more uneasy.

“Sam,” You whispered. He looked over at you carefully, and you held up some of the keys. “We need to go.” Sam nodded quickly and headed into the kitchen to grab Dean. Suddenly, a truck began to pull up, chains clinking and clanging loudly. You ran to the window and looked out, unsure of what was coming toward you, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around startled and Dean grabbed you roughly around the waist, diving under the nearby bed, taking you with him. You watched as Sam found Scott and Carly and quickly pulled them into another room, just in time for the doors to slam open, and heavy footsteps thud through the entryway.

Read part II here!

[cloverpunkwrites]

February

Challenge: Photobook

(Take a photo and write about it, related photos at instagram: @cazifraz)

32 - Feb 1

Is it stupidly cheesy to take pictures of an eye? They say eyes are the window to the soul. I always figured it was eyebrows. But I worry the exhaustion and anxiety in this eye is obvious. She always said they were my best feature. Called them cornflower and gave me an exasperated look when I said cornflower would be more indigo. Her eyes were lovely, dark and deep, but I had promises to keep, and still have miles to go before I sleep, years to go before I sleep.

33 - Feb 2

He was supposed to guard a campsite. Perhaps his hoard was leaves, or tents, or sleeping campers. There are very few such things in February. Now he seems to hoard leaflets, tables, and camper show visitors who didn’t get enough sleep last night. It's been many, many years since I've been able to call myself a camper.

34 - Feb 3

It was an accident, swinging a drying water bottle. Better than punching it with my hand, no little glass shards. I thought they looked a bit like tears.

35 - Feb 4

"What's the deal with the two different socks?"

"Oh, don't you know? That's the style now."

"I mean, honestly I just lost the companion of each and thought they could be a pair now. But sure, that's the style now."

36 - Feb 5

I took the picture because I thought it looked like a dragon, gliding along the ice, her long wings attached behind her ready to lift her into the sky. Where is she going? Do you think she would let me join her on her grand adventure? Or is she going home too?

38 - Feb 7

I see signs of spring under the smooth sheets of snow and clouds. Not in grass or leaves or flower buds, but in the color of the sky. Soft steel that's more blue than gray. Ice floats on a bright lake and that means more than green could at this point.

Day 39 - Feb 8

There is a special kind of Nostalgia for a time and place you have never actually been. It's different for everyone.

For me, it’s the middle of the country, surrounded by trees and a small mid-century home. It's warm, late summer, and the sun has just gone down, and the fireflies are coming out and I'm not afraid of them, of any part of nature. There is only peace and calm. I'm sitting on a porch reading Emmerson or Hemingway or Elliot. I exist.

Day 40 - Feb 9

The most beautiful moments happen at night, outside when it's dark, lit only by street lamps. Snow falls gently on your hair and coat past wedges of light cast on the ground. Photos cannot capture it. But they pick up the heavy streak of light stretching around you.

Day 41 - Feb 10

We all read Myths under the stars. Many different stories, for many different reasons, and with many different outcomes. Barthes says "One is a writer the way Louis XIV was a king, even on the chaise percée". I think sometimes I'd like not to be because good ideas only come in the shower.

Day 43 - Feb 12

The brightness, whiteness, is blinding from any angle bouncing around unhindered like a bright light shining on a white wall. It cannot be stopped by camera or window or the lens of the human eye, it burns through us as if we were looking directly at the sun, and we are trapped by its unsubtle message.

Day 44 - Feb 13

I am hit with the sudden image of a similar row of trees on the western property line of my parents' house. They are much younger and smaller, the tallest barely talker than me and the rest significantly shorter. But I recall the way they look just lightly dusted with snow, and in my mind I am moving between them with a string of holiday lights my sister and I are helping my father to hang, and a few of them are so close together we have to pass the cord from one side to the other, and we run out of lights half way up the last, tallest tree.

Day 45 - Feb 14

I'm too sick to think of anything clever to say

This is my only view for the day.

The worst part about being sick at college,

Is being sick at college.

Day 47 - Feb 16

It is the many lines that attract us to natural things. A quality of shapes and forms and ideas they have that we cannot replicate alone. Humans are drawn to the horizon because we cannot see beyond it, to the branches because they form shapes we didn't know lines could make, to the shadows because their lines match ours.

Day 48 - Feb 17

The college student's sense of humor is truly a miracle. The ability to joke about things they don't even mean to be funny. Every exam is a personal apocalypse, every day at work 3 hours in hell. A popular joke here is the ease with which any of us could just walk into the lake and not come back. It's a Christian campus, but I wonder how many of them are even participating in lent.

Day 49 - Feb 18

I forgot to turn on my light in my room, and was meet with an indigo sky visible from my dark room. This is the kind of thing that makes me wonder if this is all a dream. What kind of physics and brain chemestry could create an effect like this? A bright night with a strange colored sky.

Day 50 - Feb 19

I worry you can tell most of my photos of the outdoors are actually taken through a window. It’s not that I don’t go outside, but I don’t think anyone wants to be out there in the middle of winter. Yes the snow and frost and empty branches are beautiful, but they bring with them a sharp stinging wind I am not brave enough to face often, especially for the amount of time it takes to pull out my camera and take a well framed photo.

Day 52 - Feb 21

Something about this outdoor classroom seems to have Ghibli qualities. It makes me want to pack a small bag and run away into the wilderness, crying nearly gelatinous tears, that look the way crying feels. This is another type of complicated, intangible nostalgia.

Day 54 - Feb 23

We used to have this thing called average adult life goals, things like having an apartment where we could play music without headphones or walls that we could decorate with pictures of our lives. Sometimes it seemed to be implied it would be a shared life. She seemed to think we'd be dinking together as adults. I think an average adult life goal I'm particularly excited for is forgetting your high school best friend.

Day 55 - Feb 24

I've been meaning to take a picture of this chair for days. They have them set out all over the campus. They used to only have a few out on the beach, and they would bring them in the winter. Last fall we all saw these new ones everywhere and it was nice for a while. People would sit outside in the glaringly red chairs and that was nice. I figured they would bring them in for the winter, but they stayed out through November and December even though no one used them anymore. In January it finally snowed, and the chairs were white for a few days. Then the snow melted. Then it fell, and then it melted. Sheets of ice still sit around this chair as it looks out on the lake.

Day 56 - Feb 25

I crave the freedom that stability will grant me. I've convinced myself that I would be ok stuck behind a desk forever if it meant I had the freedom to forget about the desk when I wasn’t there. I crave instability because it is an adventure, but I am scared. I hope that short bursts of stability will give me freedom to attempt instability.

Day 57 - Feb 26

I have what seems to be the opposite of a green thumb. I was supposed to have sprouts by now, but all I have is slightly moldy plastic dinosaurs. This lid that was supposed to keep in moisture has only distorted the view of my failure at plant life.

Day 58 - Feb 27

Derrida was a natty dresser, she says, well put together. She claims she once rode in an elevator with him. She found him lacking in a mustache to twirl. It was she who brought up the idea of coercion, if you will recall.

Day 59 - Feb 28

He tells me there is something sad about a little bit of spinach sticking out of my sandwich. Like a tiny arm reaching out into the cold universe. I think he's overly pretentious.

Days compleated:

23/28

[sanders-specs]

Camp Swan Chapter 5

A/N: Finally! yay new chapter. Here I introduce some OCs that seem to want to make an appearance in everything, so have fun with them. Also, slight disclaimer, I don’t know a whole lot about archery so forgive me if I didn’t portray anything correctly. I did a bit of research but I’m no expert.

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, homophobic slurs (if I missed any, please let me know) 

Part 1 | Previous

Read on Ao3

Tag list:  @princeyssash @alwaysmy-lilith @protecterofalltheaus @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch

The next morning was the official start to camp. They had a full day of activities planned, and Virgil was not looking forward to it. He’d overheard Thomas say something about archery when he’d been coming back from the bathroom. Who on earth thought that it was a good idea to get a bunch of teenagers together with a bunch of weapons? It had disaster written all over it.

As he was walking back to his room, he passed Patton, who very clearly turned his head away from Virgil, presumably to keep from having to look at him. Virgil felt his chest tighten, but he gritted his teeth and walked on, refusing to let his guilt get the better of him. When he got to his room, however, his other two roommates were waiting for him.

Roman was leaning against his bunk, arms crossed. Logan was standing by the window, looking spaced out about something. He straightened when Virgil walked in, headed for his shoes.

“Virgil, Roman and I must speak with you for a moment,” Logan says.

Virgil glances between the two of them. “What do you want?”

“We want to know what you said to Patton last night to make him so upset,” Roman says. “he came back to dinner crying but wouldn’t tell us why, then we get back and see you’ve stolen one of his stuffies!” he holds up the stuffie in question, waving it for emphasis.

Virgil finishes lacing up his shoes before he turns a glare onto Roman. “I didn’t steal it, Princey,” Virgil says, “it was on my bed last night.”

“Then it fell and you kept it instead of rightfully putting it back on Patton’s bed!” Roman exclaims.

“Roman, please—” Logan starts, but Roman was on a roll.

“Were you going to just keep it instead of returning it? Do you really think we wouldn’t notice you sleeping with it?” Roman asks, matching Virgil’s glare. “And what’s with you calling me Princey?”

Virgil rolls his eyes at that last question. “I didn’t steal anything,” he spits at the other boy. “I’m not stupid. As for the nickname, I can already tell that you’re going to be a royal pain in my ass, so I felt a nickname was in order.”

“Virgil,” Logan cuts in before Roman could offer a retort. “We simply wish to ensure that we won’t have to worry about our own possessions. Surely you can understand that.”

Virgil ignored the hurt he felt. Of course they wouldn’t trust him. Why would they? They barely know him.

“Yeah whatever,” Virgil mutters, grabbing his headphones and slipping them around his neck. “Patton can take his damn dragon back, I don’t care.” He shoved past the two of them and out the door, right past Thomas who had been standing right by the doorway. Virgil glanced at him, then away as he went to wait in the lounge with some boys from the other room.

He stuck to the corner of the room, his headphones in to avoid any kind of conversation. He watched Thomas poke his head into the room and have a short conversation with Roman and Logan, neither of them looking very happy with whatever Thomas was telling them. He watched the other boys move around, talking and laughing with each other.

This was something Virgil liked to do a lot. People watch. Though it made him feel a bit more disconnected from the world, there was also something calming about it. This combined with his music kept his anxiety at ease about the idea of the day he has ahead of him.

At least up until there was a tap on his shoulder.

Virgil looked up and saw Thomas standing over him. Virgil slid his headphones down around his neck. “I didn’t steal Patton’s dragon,” He says before Thomas could open his mouth.

Thomas offered a small smile. “Patton cleared that up for me, don’t worry you’re not in trouble.”

Virgil was surprised at that. After the way he’d spoken to Patton the night before, he would have thought the other boy would be beside himself to get Virgil in trouble.

Thinking about it, though, it didn’t seem like Patton, from what little Virgil knew of him.

“Okay,” Virgil says, now very confused as to why Thomas was talking with him.

“You do realize that you can’t have your headphones with you, right?” Thomas asks, not unkindly. “They’d make it very hard for you to hear any kind of instruction from me or another counselor.”

Virgil felt panic flow through him. No, no, no, he needed his headphones. He needed their comforting weight around his neck. He’d already abandoned his hoodie in favor of not passing out from heat stroke (a fact Logan annoyingly pointed out), he couldn’t give up his headphones too.

“Whoa, Virgil, are you okay?” Thomas asks suddenly. He steps in front of Virgil, blocking him from the view of everyone else in the room. “Hey, I need you to breathe for me buddy okay?”

Virgil nodded, his hand going to the fidget cube that was clipped around his belt loop. It helped to clear his head a little.

“Tell you what,” Thomas says. “Keep em off during activities. Either find someplace to put them or keep them around your neck. Any other time you can have them on, but you have to stay aware of your surroundings in case there’s an emergency. Any instance of you listening to music and deliberately ignoring me or another counselor and you can’t have them the rest of the summer. Deal?”

Virgil nodded without even thinking about it. He didn’t question how Thomas was able to see that Virgil was going into a panic attack, or how he knew that Virgil keeping his headphones was more than just wanting to listen to music. He was just too relieved to be able to keep them with him.

Thomas gives him a reassuring smile before walking over to the other counselor, Terry, to look over something. Virgil let out a breath and leaned his head against the wall. He could get through this. He had to get through this.

They arrived on the archery range to find another group of kids there from other cabins. It was a mix of boys and girls, so Virgil had to assume that it was at least two other cabins worth of kids.

Once they’d joined the group, the counselors all gathered them up and started giving safety instructions on the bow and arrows. The arrows were dulled, but still sharp enough that they could cause a bit of pain if they were to hit someone, like BB bullets. They were not, under any circumstances, to aim their arrow at another person.

Virgil paid close attention, despite his disinterest. He knew he’d have to at least give some effort, and the last thing he needed was to accidentally impale someone. Because of his attention hyper focused on the instructions, however, he didn’t see the boy inching closer to him until his fidget cube was tugged on.

“Still wearing this sissy toy around?" the boy growls in his ear.

Virgil turns a to glare at him and moves away, yanking his fidget cube away. The dude probably knew everything that the instructors were telling them—most of the campers did, having gone through this before—so they didn’t need to actually listen. Virgil, however, was a different story, and he got the feeling that the boy and his friends knew that. They kept muttering insults in his ear, pulling on the cord of his headphones, trying to untie his fidget cube from his belt loop.

“Would you morons stop it?” Virgil breaks finally, though he was louder than he’d intended. Everyone stopped and turned to look at him.

“Virgil, is there something you wanted to say?” Thomas asks with a frown.

Virgil gulps, thinking about his headphones, and shakes his head meekly. The boys were snickering, and out of the corner of his eye, Virgil saw Roman roll his eyes and Patton and Logan give him disapproving looks. As if all of this were his fault.

Oh who was he kidding. It probably was.

“Alright, let’s break into groups and get started on our practice,” the instructor says. “No more than four to a target!”

Virgil sighs and looks around as everyone started pairing up. He glanced hesitantly at his roommates, but they already had four people. A girl with long black hair and a bright smile had joined them, greeting them all like old friends. Which they probably were.

As a matter of fact, everyone was pairing up with either roommates or friends who had joined them. Virgil sighed, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his shorts. He didn’t even want to be here in the first place. Why should he participate?

“Virgil.” Virgil looks up and sees Thomas walking over to him. “Join a team, bud.”

Glancing around, there were some groups that were only in threes. The thing is…Virgil couldn’t make himself go over to them. he glanced mournfully at his roommates. Despite the fact that they didn’t seem to like him and honestly he wasn’t their biggest fan…at least they were somewhat familiar.

“Why don’t you go join Alyssa, Cassie, and Travis over there,” Thomas points to a target on the edge of the crowd, where two girls and a guy was gathering their equipment.

Well…they didn’t look terrible. The only thing was…they were sandwiched between Virgil’s roommates and the boy who seemed to see a target on Virgil’s back. Virgil glanced at Thomas, who gave an encouraging smile. Well, it didn’t seem he had a choice at this point. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as best he could. He could do this. He’d be fine.

Virgil forced his legs to move and before he knew it he was approaching the trio. He ignored when Patton and Logan both gave him curious looks, keeping his eyes on the other three campers.

One of the girls saw him first as he approached. She nudged her friend and nodded towards him. “Hey,” she says when Virgil gets closer. “Need a team?”

Virgil just nods, his hands curling in and out of fists in his pockets.

“Well, come on and join us,” the other girl says with a kind smile. “This is Cassie,” she motions to the girl who had spoken first. She had short curly brown hair and caramel colored skin. Then she motions to the guy, who looked a bit on the scrawny side, a mess of brown hair, and hazel eyes. “That’s Travis. Ignore him, he’s an idiot.”

“Mmm, but I’m your idiot,” Travis says with a teasing smile at her.

Rolling her eyes, the girl looks back at Virgil. “And I’m Alyssa,” she finishes. She had long dark hair that was pulled into a tight braid, brown eyes, and fair skin.

“I’m Virgil,” he mutters, absentmindedly playing with his fidget cube.

“Ohhh, nice name,” Alyssa says, sounding genuine. “You don’t hear of a lot of Virgils.”

Virgil didn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully, though he didn’t have to.

“Well isn’t this just perfect,” Patton says, walking over to them with a bright smile. “You’re making friends already Virgil!”

“You know him Patton?” Travis asks.

“We’re uh…we’re roommates,” Virgil mutters, taking a small step away from Patton to get a bit of his personal space back. This movement didn’t seem to go unnoticed by Virgil’s now group or Patton, who deflated a little.

It didn’t take long for him to perk back up, though. “Virgil, you should meet Rose! She’s Roman’s sister,” Patton says, and before Virgil could say anything, the other boy was waving over the girl with long dark hair over. “Rose, this is Virgil, our fourth roommate!”

“Nice to meet you!” Rose says with a smile to rival Patton’s.

Virgil attempted to smile back, but he was feeling a bit overwhelmed, being so close to everyone. It was hard to muster anything that wasn’t a grimace.

“Aren’t you going to at least say hi back?” Roman asks, swooping in with his arms crossed. “I have a personal offense to anyone who disrespects my little sister, so you’d better watch out.”

“Uhh,” Alyssa steps in with a small smile. “We should get geared up shouldn’t we? Cas and I will walk Virgil through the gear.”

“Yes, I agree with Alyssa,” Logan says. “We shouldn’t dawdle.”

Alyssa led Virgil away, and he felt his shoulders relax slightly as he followed Alyssa back over to Cassie and Travis.

The counselor who was helping them was named Talyn. Like almost all the other counselors, most of the campers seemed to know them. Great, another thing to separate Virgil from everyone else. He was slightly comforted in the fact that there seemed to be a few other kids who looked as lost as he felt.

Despite her promises, Alyssa and Cassie seemed okay with handing over any explanation of the gear to Talyn. They walked Virgil through everything, from the armguard to the shooting tab. They showed him how to stand and readjusted his arms when he finally got to hold the bow. Virgil tried not to screw it up, but it was hard when he knew that he had an audience.

“Don’t miss newbie!” he heard Frank call, followed by some laughter.

“Alright, don’t distract him,” Talyn says, rolling their eyes. Virgil could feel his hand sweating in the shooting tab—it was this leather glove that only had one or two fingers that strapped around his wrist—and he readjusted his grip slightly, jumping a little when the arrow nearly slipped out of his fingers.

“Don’t be so scared,” he hears Roman say.

“Roman, what did I just say?” Tayln asks in a slightly annoyed tone.  

Virgil knew that they were just trying to help him, but their tone set him on edge too. He lowered the bow, releasing the tension in his shaking arm. “I-I’m not…” he was having trouble breathing. Ugh, why did it have to be so hot? “Someone else go.”

“Virgil are you sure?” Tayln asks gently, moving so that they were looking up at him. “Do you need a drink of water?”

Virgil nodded silently as Tayln took the bow from him and set it aside. They had Virgil sit down for a moment and told Cassie, Alyssa, and Travis that they could go ahead and start shooting if they wanted to. Jeana, who was watching over Patton, Logan, Roman, and Val, agreed to keep an eye out for both groups while Tayln went to get a bottle of water.

“Are you okay?” Cassie asks once Tayln was gone and Travis had taken the bow. Alyssa stood behind him, casting worried glances back at Virgil.

Virgil nodded, but that was about all he could do.

“Got cold feet?” a boy sneers, kneeling behind him. “Gonna wuss out?”

“Knock it off Frank,” Cassie says with a glare. “You’re not helping anybody.”

“Ohh got yourself a girlfriend, eh little fag?” Frank asks, this time softer right by Virgil’s ear, practically leaning on Virgil.

Virgil shoved him off. “Get off me!” he exclaims, scrambling to his feet. His sudden movement caught the eye of Jeana, who turned towards them.

“Frank, this is not your group,” she says with a frown. “Stop distracting the other campers and focus on your own target.”

Frank gave Virgil a look that could kill, one that Virgil returned right back. “I will,” Frank says, turning back to his group of friends, who were all watching Virgil with amused smiles, like he didn’t’ know what he had coming for him.

Talyn came back then, looking at Virgil with surprise, as if they could tell that something had happened. “Here you go,” they say, handing Virgil the water. “Drink up. It’s not good to get dehydrated.”

“Thanks,” Virgil mutters, and downs the entire bottle. The interaction with Frank had fired him up for a moment, but he was still left pretty shaky.

“Hey Virgil?”

Virgil looked over and saw Alyssa standing there, a small smile on her lips. He lowered the bottle and raised an eyebrow at her, trying to get control of himself.

“Have you seen the sky today? It’s really pretty, and there are lots of clouds you can make shapes out of,” Alyssa says, looking up.

Virgil followed her gaze, and though he didn’t want to admit it, she was right. The sky was the perfect shade of blue and the clouds moved easily through it. His vision was filled with the clouds and sky and the tips of trees, and for a moment he felt so calm. He forgot about the crowd around him and his shoulders relaxed a little. As much as he didn’t want to be here…he had to admit that it was a nice day.

“Virgil?”

Blinking, Virgil straightens and looks at Logan, who had been staring at him with his cool, calculated gaze. There was something softer in this one, though, as if he could see Virgil’s inner thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Logan asks.

Virgil glances at Alyssa, who had her arms crossed and was watching Cassie take a turn with the bow, a small smile on her face. “Yeah,” Virgil says softly. He turns and walks over to Tayln, leaving the other boy staring after him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alyssa lower her head and smile at him.

He taps Tayln’s shoulder to get their attention. “I think I can try again now.”

Chapter 6