#little soggy cereal boy

[moonsaver]

Imagine seeing yan!sunday completely drenched and his head wings just shrivel up and he looks so bedraggled you can't take him seriously or be intimidated by him anymore.. chicken boy.

[akkivee]

kuukou’s the one wearing the tower records cafe apron which means he’s the one working part time food service labour not jyushi and oh how the turns have tabled lmao

[d3adgayw1zzyr3ad3r]

Whoopsies accidentally wrote a tiny fic in my reblog tags

Reggie sitting on the kitchen counter wearing only James' quidditch Jersey (which is like a dress on him btw) and eating a bowl of cereal in the mornings.

That is all.

[moonstruckme]

can i ask for poly! marauders x reader where reader is really sick and literally hallucinating and they take care of her? 😭

Thanks for requesting lovely! I didn't quite do hallucinations, but I hope weird, feverish dreams are close enough haha

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You seem absolutely miserable, and Sirius wishes he could tell you how adorable you look. He would, if he thought you’d take it well. Your eyes are still half-lidded from the restless sleep Remus had woken you up from a minute before, your cheeks flushed pink, and your expression wide open in the way Sirius so rarely gets to see when you have your wits about you. Your lips are pursed in a pretty little pout as James tries, in his sweetly tenacious way, to coax you into eating something. 

“What about a sandwich?” he asks after you turn your nose up at his offer of soup. 

You shake your head, and Sirius thinks he can see you swallowing against a gag reflex. James gives you a pleading look.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you gotta eat something.” He sighs. “How about just dry cereal?”

You look a bit sulky about it, but give a reluctant nod. James grins, pressing a satisfied kiss to the side of your head before heading towards the kitchen. 

He passes Remus in the doorway, the taller boy on his way in with that plagued indent still solid between his brows. James passes a comforting hand along his shoulder, smiling at him encouragingly. Remus returns it, his features softening like butter in the rays of James’ sunshine. 

“Alright, dove,” he says, coming to sit next to you on the bed and uncapping a thermometer, “how are you feeling?”

“Weird,” you mumble, and Sirius pouts at you as Remus holds you still with a gentle hand at your jaw, settling the device in your ear. 

“Still feel like you could be sick?” he asks. 

“Yeah. And my head really hurts.” 

Remus frowns sympathetically. “M’sorry, sweetheart.”

The thermometer beeps, and his frown deepens as he brings it closer to his face, reading the screen. 

“What is it?” Sirius asks. 

“It’s not great,” Remus replies quietly, bringing the back of his hand to your forehead like he’ll find something different there. “We need to get your fever down, lovely girl.” 

“Eating could help,” James says brightly, coming in with a bowl of, as promised, plain cereal. He sets it on your lap, but you only stare at it, looking guilty but honestly like you might be sick, even with nothing in your stomach to bring up. 

“Well, don’t let it get soggy,” Sirius jokes after a moment, unsure whether he feels worse for you or James right now. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, and you really do sound it. “I’m really not hungry.” 

“Just have a few bites,” Remus reasons. “You need to eat something with your medicine.” 

“What medicine?”

“The fever reducers I’m about to give you.” Sirius looks over to see him screwing the cap off a pill bottle, shaking a couple into his hand. “C’mon, eat your cereal.” 

You look up at him, eyes big and pitiful and surprisingly watery. “I can’t,” you whine. 

“Dove,” Remus' voice is firm, but still gentler than he’d usually be. “This isn’t up for debate, I’m sorry. You have to eat at least some.”

You set your mouth in a stubborn line, and Remus cocks an eyebrow. 

“No cuddles until you do.” 

Your defiance cracks like a shell, your eyes filling with tears quicker than any of your boyfriends can react. “Really?” you whimper. 

Fucking hell, Sirius hadn’t agreed to that. Neither had James, apparently, because they’re both at your side in an instant, Sirius wrapping an arm around your shoulders while James thumbs away the few hot, sluggish tears that escape. 

“No, angel, it’s okay,” James says hastily. “Why don’t you just have a couple bites of cereal, huh? Just for now.” 

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “This is so stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid, baby,” Sirius promises you, kissing your temple. The heat that meets his lips is frightening. “You don’t feel well, I’m sure everything sucks right now. You’re allowed to be a little extra emotional when your brain is melting.”

More tears spill from your eyes, glassy with fever and now also filling with horror as you look up at him. “My brain is melting?” 

“It’s not,” Remus says quickly, shooting Sirius an exasperated look. “It’s not, darling, that was just an exaggeration. What Sirius means is that you have a really high fever. It’s understandable that you’d be upset.” 

“Oh,” you hiccup, and Sirius murmurs an apology, rubbing your upper arm comfortingly. He casts a bewildered look to the others as you sniffle, Remus’ expression lined with exhaustion and James looking dangerously close to laughter. 

“How about just three bits of cereal?” Sirius asks softly, scooping a few pieces from the bowl and holding the spoon up enticingly. “Then you can be done, yeah?”

“Okay,” you mumble, taking the spoon from him. Remus murmurs something to James, who disappears into the bathroom. 

By the time you’ve finished your three bites, with no sparse amount of praise from both Remus and Sirius, James has returned with a cup of water and a washcloth in hand. 

“Attagirl,” he says with a smile, passing you the cup of water as Remus hands over the pills. 

You swallow them eagerly, as if you’re anticipating the relief. James folds the washcloth, pushing you gently back into the pillows with a hand on your shoulder.

“Lie down for me, sweetheart.”  

You do, and he lowers to a crouch by the bed, smoothing the hair from your clammy forehead and laying the washcloth in its place. Sirius can’t help but think of how pretty the two of you look, James’ curls falling in his face as he brushes a touch over your cheek, you looking over at him adoringly. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, as though afraid to disturb the quiet, peaceful atmosphere that’s descended upon the room. “Feels nice.” 

“You should close your eyes, dove,” Remus suggests. “Get some rest, give the medicine a chance to do its job.” 

You frown, but it’s not the grumpy sulk you’d worn a few minutes before; this is more pensive. It’s almost funny, Sirius thinks, that somber look on your cute, feverish face. 

“I don’t think I want to,” you say. “I didn’t like it before.” 

“You didn’t like being asleep?” James raises his eyebrows, and you nod seriously. “Why not, angel?” 

“Weird, bad dreams.” 

Sirius scoots closer to where you’re lying, his knee almost touching James’ chest. He sets his palm idly against your overwarm cheek. “You’ve got to sleep if you’re going to get better, pretty girl,” he murmurs. “I’ll stay with you, if it makes you feel better. Those nightmare fuckers will have to get through me first.” 

You do your best to bite it back, but your smile wins in the end, your eyelashes pinching at the corners. Sirius starts there, his thumb smoothing a line from the outer corner of your eye into your hairline. Back again. Over and over, in a nice, slow rhythm. After a few times, your smile fades. Your eyelids flutter, and Sirius can tell they must feel like they weigh a hundred tons each from the way they droop slowly before finally slipping closed. 

Sirius thinks you might be asleep, but then you say drowsily, “I know what you’re doing.” 

“Yeah?” he chuckles softly. Remus echoes it. “That’s alright, baby. If I was trying to be subtle, you’d have no idea.” 

You hum like you want to argue, but you don’t speak again.

[sage-nebula]

Penny is a genius.

Not a genius in all things, mind. Her strengths mostly lie in computers and strategy. But an idea starts bubbling in her mind on the flight to Kitakami, and by the time they've returned safely to Paldea she realizes exactly what she has to do, and exactly why it's the most brilliant plan anyone has ever thought of. That night, tucked into her desk chair and surrounded by her beloved veevees, Penny composes an email.

"Dad,

I want to tell you about my friend Arven."

- - -

It takes less than twelve hours for the cafeteria doors to be thrown open with such gusto that they slam back against the wall. Flatware clatters to the tables. Students drop their bowls in shock. A pawmi falls face first into a pot of soup. And Penny's father, Peony, stands proud in the doorway, scanning the stunned student body with a fierce look of concentration, while Penny's older sister Peonia hangs behind him with her head in her hands.

Seated in the back of the cafeteria with a bowl of half-soggy cereal, Penny draws her hood up over her head and pulls the strings tight.

"There he is!" Peony booms, and Penny peeks through the hole in her hood to see that he's pointing at Arven, whose mouth is still agape as his half eaten breakfast sandwich lies forgotten on his plate. A wide smile breaks over Peony's face as he strides across the cafeteria, all eyes following him as he makes his way across. "Ven, my boy! I've been lookin' all over for you!"

"Uh, what? Why? Who are you?" Arven starts to stand as if to run, but before he can Peony slings an arm around his shoulders so they can sit back down together.

"Name's Peony! My darling Pen-Pen told me all about you. And from what I hear, it sounds to me like you could use an ultra-mega-fun adven-tour extravaganza!"

"'Pen-Pen'? Wait, do you mean—?" Arven looks at Penny across the room, who begins hastily shoving soggy cereal into her mouth.

"I've got it all planned. Camping, cookouts, the works! We're going to have a blast, my boy—I ultra-mega guarantee it!"

"So," Peonia says as she slides into the chair next to Penny, "what exactly did this Arven bloke do to you to make you sic Dad on him?"

Penny rolls her eyes. "He didn't do anything. He needs this—in a good way. His situation's completely different from our one; his parents were never around."

Peonia snorts. "Lucky him."

"Not as much as you might think." Penny looks across the cafeteria again. Arven still looks confused and nervous, but he's starting to smile a little; her dad's corny "adven-tour" must be sounding pretty good to him. "I think he and Dad will get on all right."

"Well, so much the better if it gets Dad out of our hair a bit."

"Exactly."

"Ha!" Peonia grins, and elbows Penny in the side. "I knew this wasn't all altruism. You are taking the piss, aren't you?"

"I'm not. Arven really does need this. It just also helps us. Plans can accomplish two things." Penny stands up, and swipes her bowl from the table as her father pulls out a map to show Arven. "Now come on. Let's escape while Dad's distracted."

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter 7.2: Lando's First Time

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Chapter summary: Title feels explanatory enough

Warnings: talks of sex, Dom/Sub dynamics, no actual sex occurs, this is a crack fic, lots of communication, talks of kinks

Notes: the start of Lando and his chaos

Masterlist

When Lando woke up this morning, he didn't think that he'd be spending breakfeast talking with Max about Sex.

His cereal had gone soggy. The shock of it all making it difficult to eat.

The worst part was that this seemed so easy for him. Sure, he'd taught the female about most sexual things she knows now, and he'd been through this with Charles. But this was completely new to Lando, and he didn't like that it was so... casual.

"-Again, I know this is probably a lot and of you don't want to-."

"I want to." The words tumbled out of his mouth faster than he could think about them. He could actively feel the blush on his cheeks growing.

"Okay then." Max smiles. "Let me go grab something, and you should probably get new cereal."

Lando decided it would be better to just wait until after this talk.

~

Max came back into the room with a notebook, a green colored pen, and Charles. "I was going to give you orange, but it doesn't show up well enough for me to read."

"Is y/n still asleep?"

"No, she's eating and cuddling with the cats. These conversations tend to... not embarrass her, but it definitely puts her in a place I don't want her in."

The two join him on the couch. Lando just looks at them with pure confusion. Lost in what Max is attempting to tell him.

Thankfully, Charles explains. "She's a pleaser and is still learning how to set boundaries. She will say yes to everything even if she doesn't want to."

"Why on earth would she do that?" Lando grimaces at his words. That sounded meaner than he was intending. The older boys exchange a look, and Max shrugs his shoulders.

"Well mate, as you will come to find out, the overwhelming urge to be praised makes it difficult for her to say no." Charles finishes woth a wink.

Lando's mouth falls open in an 'O' shape. Suddenly, everything clicked.

They'd gotten themselves into a sexually charged situation. It could and, probably would, have gone further if Max hadn't stopped them.

He'd dragged Lando out and sat him down for a talk. It was at this point that Lando agreed to add his blood panel to their ever expanding collection of them. Lando also learned at this point that Max is in charge and he quite likes the Dutch telling him what to do.

He'd also had to trade places with Charles because the girl in the room where he'd been dragged from was crying. Charles didn't tell Lando why as he sat in what used to be Max's chair. Just that she was feeling insecure after watching Max pull Lando off of her.

He'd also taken the time to explain that he didn't do anything wrong. Max is just fiercely protective and knows she will push her limits.

Now he's sitting between Max in Charles with a green pen in hand, looking at a list.

The notebook was filled with different things regarding their sex life. Again, Lando could see his blood work had been added to the list at the front along with the other two.

"No blood work for her?"

"I'd be surprised if it came back normal. Also, I took her virginity, and Charles is the only other persona she's had besides that."

Lando wasn't shocked, but hearing it aloud was still a little surprising. "Did she like... do other things?"

"I'm promise I'm not lying when I tell you she'd never been touched there before. At least that she remembers."

It's Charles turn to look at Max with confusion. "What? She said she'd never touched, non?"

Max sighs with a heavy sadness. "Her dreams and how her body reacts... I think there may have been things that happened that she didn't remember or was unconscious for."

"She did say she was drugged and unconscious a lot." Charles considers.

Lando didn't know what to think. His brain couldn't function, and the older boys beside him were incredibly normal about this. He was beginning to feel the insecurity creep up his throat.

"That's a discussion for another time, though." Max smiles at Lando again and snage the journal back from him. "Don't laugh, but this is how we keep track of things." Max turned the page to a list of names with various information beneath. "Mind if I ask a few questions?"

"Uh- no. It's a little odd that you think I would say no now that we're already here."

"Fair." Max simply shrugs again. Lando is grateful Charles is here. He loves Max, but sometimes he explains things in a way that makes his brain do cartwheels. He's also grateful because Charles lets him play with his rings. "Remember, there is no judgment. We have to be honest to make this work."

"What if I say something weird?"

"I said my first experience with a guy was at a sex party. If you can top that, I'd be impressed." Charles chuckles a little. He thinks fondly of that memory now, but at the time, he'd been miserable.

"First question: dom or sub? Or neither."

Lando blinks at him. "Bottom?"

"Not what I asked."

Lando inhales through his teeth. "Sub." His eyes immediately find the floor. Not for long, though. Max grabs his chin and gently brings his gaze back to his.

"Need to see your eyes. You've got nothing to be ashamed of." The gentle voice Max uses throws his head into a tizzy.

"Again, Lan, if it makes you feel any better, I've been the dom in most my previous relationships, and then Max had me screaming daddy for the neighbors to hear."

"Don't be fooled, though. Charlie still knows how to take control when I let him." Max winks, and Landos feels as if he's gotten in the middle of something.

"Next question: have you used the stop light safe words?"

Lando just shakes his head. "Isn't that universal?"

"Yes, which makes it easy to use and remember."

"We have a list of hard pass kinks. I'll let you look at it, and you can add any to the list." Max flips the page again and hands the book to Lando. He reads through it and ponders for a moment. The things they have written are anything super harmful or just unsanitary. A few others scattered in between that have their own categories. He hands the book to Max when he feels satisfied.

"Great! Now the fun part." Max wiggles his eyebrows, and Charles wheezes because of how comical it looks.

"Mon amour, please- your going to scare him!"

"Rude. But anyway." Max flips again to the page they were on previously. "Okay, a couple of things to go over and some rules. Do you like being praised or degraded?"

"...Both." Lando tries to move back to looking at the floor, but Max catches him and tuts. He moves his gaze once again, and Lando is forced to look at the memorizing blue.

"Any positions you either don't like or haven't tried?"

For fucks sake. He sounds like such a slut right now. Is it bad that he likes this? "Pretty sure I've tried everything, but I'm always open to new things anyway." This time, he doesn't look away.

Charles leans back a little amused. Watching the two go back and forth in discussion. The obvious hard-on that Lando has dragging his attention away. The Brit can see him staring. He finds it somewhat like a compliment.

"Rules time."

"I struggle to remember, so please be patient."

"No worries, Lan. That's what the book is for." Now Max actually closes the book. All of Lando's information has been jot down. All of his kinks are now documented.

"So for Charles, he is a switch. But like... a dom leaning switch, if that makes sense." Lando shakes his head, and Max hums in approval. "Obviously, I'm in charge, and I like it that way." Max winks horribly at him, and Lando can't help but chuckle at his attempt to keep him comfortable. "She is a sub. She will slip into a subspace within five minutes of any sexual scenario. It's a given. That's why we have to be a little cautious."

Lando cocks his head to the side. His questioning eyes find the Monegasque again. "There are times her mind puts her there because she thinks we're upset with her, and it's how she can fix it even if she didn't do anything. If she's on her knees, it's usually a tell tale sign. Her father used to put her there when he wasn't happy with her. Basically, if she's on her knees, then don't go any further. It's not her consenting, it's her mind telling her she needs to fix things and we don't want to take advantage of that."

Lando's heart hurts at the statement. It's terrible that she ever had to do that. He nods in understanding and appreciation of charles' explanation.

"On that not also, because she can go crazy far into sub space, she can drop hard. One minute, we're starting aftercare, and the next, she can't fathom being in her own skin. Like she did something wrong or wasn't enough or going as far as to hate that she went there in the first place."

"Lan, please be honest. Do you get deep in the headspace and drop?" Charles' voice is so nice that he almost whimpers at it.

"Yes, but I also do other things." Max and Charles eye each other for a moment. It would make sense why, they just listed all his kinks. "I find it fun not to do as told and rile people up."

Max looks at him with something mischievous. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun."

Charles leans in to Lando. His breath hot on his ear. "I tried it once. Never again. This is the time I cried daddy for the entire building to hear."

Lando looks directly at Max. "I like a challenge."

Max is breathing heavier now. Lando is now joined in his predicament.

"I think we should give him something to help his little issue. Don't you think cher?" The hot breath and low voice of the Monegasque does nothing to help him.

~

Charles had been sitting on the bed with her. She was lost in the sound of his voice telling her everything about Lando. What he likes, what he doesn't, the important things.

She's already fading, and she knows it. It's not just because of the soothing voice of a certain Monegasque, but also because she can clearly hear Lando whimpering.

Charles runs his fingers along her body. "Are you feeling fuzzy already?" She nods and curls up into him. "We don't have to join. I can take care of you here if you think joining them will be too much."

She shakes her head no and quickly stands from the bed to emphasize her point.

They completely disregard the fact that she's in nothing but one of Max's oversized hoodies. It's all just going to come off again regardless, and she completely trusts Lando anyway.

The sight on the couch is nothing that she was expecting. Why does Max have Lando over his knee already?

"I brought someone to join." Charles strokes her cheek, and she leans into the soothing touch. Any touch right now feels like heaven in her eyes.

Max manhandles Lando off of him and into a kneeling position. This is also new. They never let her stay on her knees.

Max gets off the couch and pointedly looks at Lando. "Stay put."

Max caresses the other side of her face when he reaches her. "Things are going to be different again because Lando is here now. Do you understand?"

She'd already learned that when Charles came along. But he is similar to Max in a way. Lando is very new. "Yes."

"Yes who?"

"Yes, sir."

Her words make Max smile. But it goes away as soon as he turns around and sees Lando sitting on the floor instead of kneeling. "Technically speaking, I stayed put!"

She looks to Charles for some sort of explanation. "Lando likes to misbehave."

Misbehave? That's an option? She'd always done as told without questions. Though she'd gotten punished before. It's not in the sex part. It's with the life part.

Max had started it after her unhealthy habits started getting worse. It helped her to break them. Even if they cone through because she gets in her head, Max and Charles have been there to pull her back with their bedroom tactics. The way the two tag team is terrifying sometimes.

Charles guides her to the sofa and Max is quickly back to manhandling Lando. The Brit is smiling like an idiot and she thinks for a moment that this will be interesting to watch.

She leans into Charles as they sit down. “why does he like it? I thought that misbehaving is a bad thing?”

“To you, yes. You like it when we tell you you’re doing a good job.” Charles points to where Max is teasing Lando. The Brits body being pinned exactly where Max wants him. “He likes making people lose patience and then people calling him, uh, degrading things.”

“Like the words we use only in scenes?” Charles hums a confirmation. the vibration tickling her skin.

"I'm shocked we haven't corrupted you you yet chéri. You're still so parfaite, so innocent." His voice sends a shudder down her spine. His finger still brushing the spots along her body that make her mind spin.

Their moment is interrupted by Lando, again, being tossed onto the couch. Effectively startling the two out of their moment.

“Max, amour, must you throw him around?”

“Better work out then just lifting in my opinion.” Max shrugs and laughs.

Lando readjusts himself, throwing his legs over the other two. “I think this I gonna be fun.” He smirks.

~

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak @chanshintien @vellicora @hollie911 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @be-your-coffee-pot @copper-boom

[allyendergirl]

Tim knows how to cook. But he only knows how to cook mostly weird comfort struggle meals bc he’s used to only having imperishables/canned and boxed foods around the house. The only times he would ever have from scratch meals when his parents were away was when the cleaning lady felt generous or guilty enough to bring him a meal from her home and leave it in the fridge for him. So this boi grew up with bullshit like fan fiction trail mix, ketchup spaghetti noodles,  soggy microwaved cheese quesadillas with whatever sauce he liked from the fridge, whatever canned vegetables were in the pantry mixed with instant mashed potatoes, soups from bags, and just shit like girl dinner.

Maybe as he got a little older he graduated to things like red beans and rice, decent fancied up ramen noodles, maybe a sushi bake, maybe some tuna or egg sandwiches etc etc.

But one of Tim’s favorite comfort “meals” that he made for himself in childhood is a “sandwich” that consists of a filling made of Nutella, Craves cereal, and melted marshmallows mixed together after being warmed up in the microwave.

But no one knows of Tim’s “cooking” abilities until Tim and Jason have to go under cover as roommates in a shitty part of an up and coming gangs territory. Jason is gobsmacked when he returns to the apartment to find that Tim had made a halfway decent stir fry out of mostly canned veg and some cheap sweet chili sauce. The next day Tim made sesame ramen noodles with only like 5 ingredients. Jason cooked for the rest of the week after that bc seeing Tim cook kinda weirded him out. But Jason had to admit, Tim had the science of struggle meal flavor profiling down to a T, and with Jason’s help some of Tim’s more questionable “meals” started to actually resemble something more like real meals and not something a person would make out of desperation and determination not to starve.

[ssj2hindudude]

*Nikita walks in on Sheela making cereal* *And then Sheela pours the milk first*

Nikita: Did you just pour the milk first?

Sheela: Yeah? What's wrong? Is it expired-

Nikita: NOBODY pours the milk first! It's- It's WEIRD!

Sheela: Um, I pour the milk first.

Nikita: And it's FREAKING WEIRD!

Sheela: WHY are you so offended?!?

Nikita: Because- SERIAL KILLERS pour the milk first!

Sheela: Oh. So. Imma kill somebody, for NO REASON, because I poured the milk first?

Nikita: I don't know, maybe-

Sheela: Why does this matter to you?

Nikita: Why do you even do it that way?

Sheela: So the cereal doesn't get soggy as fast.

Nikita: ...what?

Sheela: It makes sense.

Nikita: No. It doesn't.

Sheela: Listen, if you pour the cereal in first, and THEN pour the milk in after, then all the cereal gets SATURATED by the milk-

Nikita: ALL of the cereal gets SATURATED and SUBMERGED by the milk anyway-

Sheela: NO, not if you pour the milk in first-

Nikita: YES IT DOES!

Sheela: Wait, let me finish, sis! C'mon!

Nikita: Go ahead, go ahead. What?

Sheela: Cause of SURFACE TENSION...

*Nikita looks at the camera like in the Office*

Sheela: ...the bottom layer of the cereal will act as a FLOTATION DEVICE-

Nikita: What are you even saying right now-

Sheela: SHUT UP, LET ME FINISH-

Nikita: But that's STUPID

Sheela: YOU'RE stupid!

Nikita: This whole ARGUMENT is stupid!

Sheela: YOU are the one who STARTED this whole ARGUMENT!

Nikita: Cause you poured the FREAKING MILK IN THE BOWL FIRST!

Sheela: JUST LISTEN TO ME!!!

*Nikita snarls at the camera and says "Gosh"*

Sheela: Now, as I was saying, if you pour the cereal on TOP of the milk-

Nikita: Wait, how do you know how much milk to pour if you don't pour the cereal into the bowl first?

Sheela: If you eat all the cereal and there's still more milk left, either (A), DRINK IT, or (B), I dunno, POUR SOME MORE CEREAL

Nikita: But what if you're not as HUNGRY or as THIRSTY as you thought you were, and now you're just sitting here, with a bowl full of extra MILK-

Sheela, baby voice: Oh. Do you need a bottle? Your ba-ba?

Sheela, normal: Or are you gonna stop being a little BABY and just FINISH IT?!?

Nikita, menacingly: Cereal-milk is tainted milk

Sheela, menacingly: Well that's your fault for pouring too much milk.

Sheela, normal: Plus, there's always room for more cereal! Cereal's like, the ICE CREAM of breakfast!

Nikita: Cereal for breakfast is poppin'-

Sheela: On the other hand, if you pour the cereal first-

Nikita: Oh my-

Sheela: AND THEN pour the milk on after-

Nikita: STOP

Sheela: All the cereal will get soggy-

Nikita: EXACTLY!

Sheela: Huh?

Nikita: It gets soggy!

Sheela: Exactly!

Nikita: That's the best part!

Sheela: You're kidding me.

Nikita: NO. I am NOT.

Sheela: Have you ever had soggy Fruity Pebbles before?

Nikita: Yes. And they're delicious.

Sheela: You're an Asura.

Nikita: SOGGY FRUITY PEBBLES ARE HEAVENLY

Sheela: THAT'S DISGUSTING!

Nikita: YOU'RE DISGUSTING!

*Aiden walks in*

Sheela: YOUR WHOLE FACE IS DISGUSTING!

Nikita: YOU IDIOT! WE HAVE. THE SAME. FACE!!!

Aiden: Hey guys?

Twins: WHAT?!?

Aiden: Just. Heard your argument and I just gotta say...have you tried it, without the milk?

*Twins stare him down*

Aiden: I actually, uh, I prefer to eat my cereal dry.

*Twins breathe in*

Twins: BOI🫱

Sheela: DO YOU ALSO PREFER TO BRUSH YOUR TEETH WITHOUT WETTING THE TOOTH BRUSH?

Nikita: I BET YOU USE THE TOILET AFTER YOU SHOWER! YOU'RE PROBABLY SMELLING LIKE A STRAIGHT SEWER!

Sheela: RIGHT NOW!

Nikita: OL' BROKE LOOKING, JOHNNY LEVER LOOKING BOI

Sheela: IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR WHOLE "Ara Ara" APSARA LOOKING FACE OUTTA HERE BOI

Aiden: Guys-

Nikita: WHO ARE YOU?!?

Sheela: WE DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU ANYMORE

Aiden: But guys-

Nikita: WHO INVITED YOU?!?

Sheela: WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!?

Aiden: But guys-

Nikita: HOW DID YOU EVEN GET IN OUR HOUSE?!?

Sheela: 👈EXIT STAGE LEFT!

Aiden: But-

Nikita: YOU POMPOUS HEATHEN! I TAKE MY SPOON AND I YEET!

*throws a spoon at Aiden*

Sheela: YEET! *throws the bowl at Aiden*

Nikita: MILK YEET! *Throws the milk jug at Aiden*

Sheela: RUSUSUSPUFFAS YEET! *Throws box of Reese's Puffs at Aiden*

*later*

Aru, bandaging Aiden's wounds: And this is why I don't go to the Jagan's anymore...

sorta part 2

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Camp Wanamaker (Ch 8/10)

September 7, 2023

Notes - I know this chapter is exceptionally overdue and I'm so sorry that it is, but my job raised my hours pretty significantly, and, with everything else going on in my already crazy life, I found it very hard to sit down and write. However, I'm hoping to get the next few chapters out as soon as possible so we can move on to bigger and better things!

Chapter 8 - Rumor Has It

The sun slowly rose over the hills of trees that surrounded Camp Wanamaker. Morning light crept across the gentle waves of the lake and the tops of the cabins, dancing across the dewy grass and making it shimmer like a million minuscule diamonds. The yellow-orange glow snaked its way closer and closer to the windows of each building, finding the cheap cotton curtains with ease. The light eventually seeped through the curtains and spilled onto the bed of a certain brunet boy, his chocolate coils woven into little knots as he struggled to get himself out of his twisted sheets while he slept.

It had been a rough night for Royce. He had just barely fallen asleep when an emergency notification about a missing child in the area rang loudly on his phone, jolting him awake as he tore out his earbuds. By the time he had finally worked himself back to the edge of sleep, it was nearing two in the morning. He wasn’t the only one who had issues with chasing sleep that night, which was made apparent as Bentley entered the room and silently joined his brother, relishing in the quiet and calm his brother’s room provided. Thankfully, they had the day to recover and relax while everyone else did as they pleased on their last day of freedom before the next group of campers arrived.

As Royce stirred, the soft rays of light filtering through his eyelashes as he slowly blinked them open, a light grumble from his side caught his attention. Glancing down, he found Bentley curled up to his side, his face buried in Royce’s shirt to avoid the sunlight coming in from the window. A notion of a chuckle left Royce’s mouth as he peered over at the clock on his nightstand. All he needed to see was the glowing, red six at the start of the number to know that his little brother wouldn’t be moving any time soon. At least, not willingly. Taking in a slow breath and sighing, Royce reached for the cell phone he had ditched on the nightstand and relaxed back onto his pillow, ready to enjoy a lazy morning.

If you asked any of the Murphy brothers, lazy mornings were reserved for Sundays anyway. Back in their home, they would usually be found lounging on the couch with bowls of soggy cereal or packets of Pop-Tarts, their eyes semi-glued to the typical weekend cartoons playing on the TV as they ate breakfast. Well, in more recent months, they had. Their old television was a crappy box model with a single dial that had only one good station while the other four were filled with either news or politics. However, after Vivien’s “stay-cation” to their world, they had grown accustomed to the hundreds of stations they could receive with the television the girl had gotten Mick’s help with making.

It didn’t take them long to realize that living at Camp Wanamaker was something else entirely. Most of the televisions available were outfitted with every app known to mankind and possessed a slew of shows nobody in the cabin had seen before - not even those who lived in the modern world. Not every cabin had a television, of course, but the ones that were home to just counselors or staff members had at least one for the cabin to share. Royce and Bentley had spent their free mornings during staff weeks in front of the TV, watching shows that Vivien and Mick had added to their watchlists. It was a good way to spend their mornings, all in all.

Just as Royce had begun searching his phone for something to keep himself occupied, Bentley shifted, slowly lifting his head from Royce’s shirt and grumbling a complaint about the sun. A yawn caught the youngest of the Murphy brothers, forcing him to stretch against the mattress as he made a noise of frustration. Flopping back down against the sheets, Bentley slowly turned toward Royce and muttered, “G’mornin’.”

“Morning,” Royce spoke softly. “Have a good sleep?”

Bentley shrugged, “Kinda.”

Royce hummed, “Do you wanna go watch the next episode of that zombie show? We can make some cereal and just chill on the couch while everyone goes to the mess hall.”

After a moment of contemplation, Bentley shook his head, “I don’t think I’m up for watching someone get their insides eaten like a bowl of zombie spaghetti jsut yet. Can I watch you play the cat game instead? You know, the one where you help the robots?”

Bentley watching Royce play games was nothing new, but it had become far more common in recent times. While Bentley loved playing games with adventure or mindless fun as the main focus, story-driven games like What Remains of Edith Finch and their newfound favorite, Stray, made it easier for Bentley to relinquish all control of the game to Royce in favor of watching him play and piecing together the storyline at his own pace. In a way, it was easier and both brothers enjoyed the time they got to spend together. 

With a smile, Royce nodded as he sat up, “Sure, Benny. Why don’t you go get that started up and I’ll make breakfast.”

As Bentley sluggishly shoved the blankets away from his legs, he grinned, “Can I have Cocoa Puffs with chocolate milk?”

“Yeah,” Royce nodded. “You want your Hufflepuff mug or just a normal cup?”

Bentley snickered, “No, RJ, I mean, can I have chocolate milk in my cereal?”

Royce paused, feeling as though he had a circle swirling above his head as he processed his brother’s request. “But-” he took in a breath, “Benny, there’ll be chocolate milk at the bottom anyway if you’re having Cocoa Puffs.”

“I know,” Bentley shrugged, “but I want it more chocolatey so when I drink it after the cereal’s gone, it’s not like two little bits of chocolate and a bowl of straight milk.”

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Royce relented, “Alright, fine. That makes sense.”

As he followed Royce to the door, Bentley smirked and asked, “Can I have a glass of orange juice to go with it? Maybe some pickles afterward?” The look of disgusted horror Royce sent in return as he whirled around made Bentley cackle, patting his brother on the shoulder as he ducked around him. Bentley had just reached the bottom step when Royce began thumping down them, rattling off about disgusting food combinations first thing in the morning and musing how someone they knew must have been pregnant if he was craving something so nasty. Bentley beamed with pride as he grabbed the game controller from the coffee table; it was mornings like these that he didn’t mind being up so early.

Vivien moved sluggishly as the rain battered against the air conditioner that stuck out of one of the music hall’s windows. Rain always made her tired and, with nothing better to do, she and Miles were stuck in the music hall, practicing guitar and fooling around with the instruments that would, typically, go unused on a day like that. To make matters worse, it was Monday. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; however, that meant the carnival in Laconia was now officially open, and, due to the rain, they wouldn’t be able to go.

The trips to the carnival had been planned quite thoroughly. Every day, one group would be taken to the carnival for the day and return for dinner. Although most everyone at the camp wanted nothing more than to go to the carnival, the rain had come over the area overnight and the carnival grounds on the early-morning news had looked more like muddy grass soup, making it an easy decision for those at the camp to stay at the camp. 

As Miles strummed a song on the guitar and hummed softly along, Vivien dropped onto the bench beside him, a yawn leaving her as she tipped her head back to look at the ceiling, “I’m so fucking bored.”

“Join the club, kiddo,” Miles chuckled, allowing his strumming to fade off as he pushed his focus onto the girl beside him. 

“Does the club offer cookies?” 

“Only on weekends and at club meetings.”

“Then I don’t wanna join,” she sighed.

“Too bad,” Miles teased, nudging the girl with his elbow as he set the guitar down beside his leg. “Once you’re invited, there’s no turning it down.” Vivien glanced in Miles’ direction with an amused smirk before another yawn tugged itself from her. “Tired?” he asked.

Instead of firing off a quick quip, Vivien lazily nodded, leaning closer to Miles until her head came into contact with his shoulder. “I slept fine last night, but I woke up later than normal and it’s throwing me off.”

Miles chuckled, tugging his arm from between them and bringing it around Vivien’s shoulders, “For some reason, I don’t have that problem.”

“You suck.”

“You love me.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you still suck,” Vivien muttered as she brought an arm around Miles’ back.

Allowing himself to smile, Miles gave Vivien’s arm a squeeze, “You’re such a little shit.”

“Takes one to know one.”

As rain battered against the windows, the wind rattling the glass ominously as it passed, Miles grinned. Even though they spent almost every day in the music hall, it wasn’t too often that he got to spend time with just Vivien. Normally, the music hall was filled with kids wanting to bash the drums or learn guitar, the split of interests keeping him and Vivien on opposite sides of the large room. It was times like these - the rare moments when the hall was empty and they would be able to talk or play guitar - that Miles felt an actual connection with the girl. 

They had spent a few months under the same roof during Vivien’s prolonged stay in their world over winter break and he enjoyed watching her grow more comfortable around everyone he knew and loved. Once she had gotten out of the “Royce’s girlfriend” title everyone had given her and made a name for herself, Miles got to see the different sides of Vivien that he hadn’t yet found. After everything they had been through over her break, she now felt like the younger sister he never got the chance to have. 

As Miles glanced up at the ceiling, wondering how long it would be before they would need to break out the buckets in the storage room to catch dripping water that penetrated through the older roof, Vivien sighed. Despite her exhaustion, her mind raced with thoughts of what they were going to do to keep themselves busy until Saturday. As one of the last groups to go to the carnival, they had to keep themselves entertained for most of the week. After a moment, Vivien glanced out the window toward where the pool would, by now, be empty. Maybe she could convince Mick to let her swim in the rain; it would beat sitting around, doing nothing while they waited for a potentially musically inclined camper to stumble through the door. 

Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen much of Mick lately. Faintly, she wondered if the older girl was okay. She knew that Mick was suffering from a few health issues lately as they had talked a bit about her recent bouts of exhaustion, some pretty strong nausea, and how she had woken up with swollen ankles with no reason as to why. Maybe she had been taking things easy in the hope that everything would fix itself before the time came for the appointment she had called to schedule the day before. Though she wondered what could be happening with Mick, she had a few ideas.

Pregnancy was, of course, one of the top suspects as the nausea and swelling were common in pregnancy. However, she couldn’t be sure. After all, Mick didn’t look pregnant. She was still just as toothpick thin as always - that damned metabolism Vivien wished she possessed keeping Mick looking more lean than muscular. It could still be possible, but she couldn’t recall Mick and Butchy having the chance to sneak away to - Vivien tried not to vomit at the thought - do the deed. 

Deciding she would have to bite the bullet to find out, Vivien lifted her head from Miles’ shoulder and asked, “Do you think Mick is pregnant?”

Miles’ head lilted to the side as he shot the girl a bewildered, raised eyebrow, “Where did that come from?”

“I was just thinking. You know how Mick’s been feeling off the last few days?” When Miles slowly nodded, Vivien continued, “Well, her symptoms are similar to pregnancy symptoms.”

“They are?”

With a nod, Vivien said, “Morning sickness, exhaustion, swelling, lack of period-”

“How do you know she doesn’t have her period?” Miles questioned.

Sending Miles the most bland face she could muster, Vivien deadpanned, “We’re girls, we talk about these things. But that’s not the point.”

“Right,” Miles said with a shake of his head, “so you think she could be pregnant?”

“Maybe,” Vivien shrugged. “I mean, they delayed their honeymoon so they could help here, but they’ve had the time to go out together and stuff. There’s no telling when it could have happened.”

Though Miles seemed to consider the idea, he mused, “But she doesn’t look pregnant.”

“Not everyone does,” Vivien claimed. “When Aunt Hayley had me, she didn’t show at all.”

Miles was silent for a while as he thought about all Vivien had said. It could be true. He had seen Mick behaving differently lately - constantly feeling chilly, falling asleep on the couch while watching movies, and having to step out of the mess hall sometimes because the scent was overpowering - but he hadn’t thought of pregnancy. He simply thought she was coming down with the stomach bug that was starting to pulse throughout the town.

Taking in a breath, Miles sighed, “It sounds like Mick is pregnant.”

“Well, we don’t know for sure,” Vivien said. “I can always ask her when I’ve got the chance.”

“Better you than me, kiddo.” Miles chuckled, “She’d probably rip my head from my shoulders.”

“Yeah, somehow I doubt she’d take it too kindly,” Vivien snickered. 

As Miles let out a snort of agreement, the door of the music hall slammed against the frame, the wood rattling as the wind beat against it. The laughter died on Miles’ lips as he and Vivien turned toward the door, eyeing it with wide stares. “Was that the wind?” Miles breathed.

Vivien pushed herself to stand, maneuvering around the bench and walking to the door, twisting the handle before tugging it open. Rain bucketed from above and the only sign of life was a group of kids who were busy screeching as they ran up the path toward the safety of the dance studio. Leaning against it to make it click into place, Vivien turned to Miles and shrugged, “It was either the wind or a ghost.”

With a shrug, Vivien grabbed a guitar and made her way back to her seat, silently asking Miles to help her with a song she wanted to play as she sat back down. As they began working on figuring out the chords of the song Vivien had chosen, neither of them was prepared for the onslaught of chaos that the week would bring. Just down the path from the music hall, the door to the dance studio slammed open as a group of dripping campers piled in.

“What happened to you?” one of the girls asked from the far side of the large room. On one side of the room, dancers in sweatpants and leotards stretched on the floor while others practiced before the mirror. However, as the door closed once more, the group of five by the door had everyone’s attention.

“We all decided to hop in the pool after practice,” Chloe, one of the soaked campers, answered sarcastically.

“We came from the tennis courts,” one of the drenched campers - a blonde named Maxine - said as she wrung her hair out over the doormat. “We had to cut around the music hall to get here quicker.”

“And,” the only brunette from the group - Rachel - piped up, “you’ll never guess what we heard on our way here!”

If they didn’t already have the attention of those around them, they certainly did now as questions popped up throughout the room like a game of Whack-A-Mole. Stepping to the front of the group, the youngest of the campers - Alex - beamed as she declared, “Mick, the lifeguard girl who always gives us extra time to relax after swimming laps, is pregnant!”

Squeals of excitement bubbled up throughout the dance studio, a few commented on how they “just knew” she had to be, and others questioned how the girls knew, to which Chloe said, “We overheard her friends talking. You know, the girl with the long-ass hair and the boy who’s dating Carrie? They were talking about Mick being pregnant and we heard them on our way by.”

As excited exclamations passed through the room, the door to the back hallway opened and a small girl entered the room, followed soon after by Charlie, who led the dance studio every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Looking around the room, Charlie placed her hands on her hips and sighed, “Alright, everyone, calm down. If you keep this up, I’ll be having you go across the floor right off the bat.”

“But, Charlie,” one of the stretching dancers argued, “we’re talking about Mick.”

“Yeah,” another agreed. “What do you think of her being pregnant?”

“Pregnant?” Charlie repeated with a raised brow. “Where did you hear that?”

Murmured answers flitted around the room before settling as Alex spoke up, “We overheard Miles and Vivien talking about it.”

“Eavesdropping, were you?” Charlie admonished as she made her way further into the room.

“Not intentionally!” Rachel exclaimed. “We were walking by the music hall and overheard it.”

Making a mental note to talk with the pair about the situation at their next meal, Charlie sighed, “Well, that may be, but I haven’t heard anything about this, so I would advise you all to keep this to yourselves. Nobody likes having rumors spread about themselves.”

A chorus of reluctant “yes, ma’am”s filed the room and, as Charlie let out a sigh, she hoped she had squashed the rumors quickly enough that it wouldn’t spread around the dinner tables. With any luck, she’d be able to talk with Miles and Vivien before word spread too far. Usually, rumors at camp spread quietly and quickly, festering overnight into nonsense and plaguing everyone on the grounds within a day or two. If Charlie noticed it spreading much at all, she would try to find a way to sit Mick down and talk with her. She would need to prepare the girl for the onslaught of gossiping campers and concerned questions from her friends if the kids let it spread any further than it already had.

Clapping her hands together, Charlie brought herself back to the task at hand and declared, “Alright, everyone, find your place at the barre and get comfortable. We’re all going to feel the burn today.”

Despite Charlie’s best efforts, it had been impossible to find the chance to get Miles or Vivien away from everyone else before they headed to bed Monday night. She didn’t want it spreading more than she presumed it had, but Vivien was constantly with Royce and Bentley while Miles was practically attached to Carrie’s hip. They had spent the evening playing games and watching movies, giving Charlie little chance to speak her mind. When they were getting ready for bed, Charlie told Hayley about the situation. Hayley wouldn’t be able to do much to help as she was supposed to be helping in the office on Tuesday, but she promised that, if she heard anything, she would say something.

Charlie felt particularly tense at breakfast, overly focused on the noisy voices around the room as she tried to silently shield her niece’s friends from being the topic of conversation. It wasn’t until her wife nudged her, telling her the meal was over, that she finally moved, jerkily rising from her seat and disposing of the few pieces of egg that she had left on her plate. Stationed in the playhouse to help with makeup and choreography for the upcoming play, Charlie followed Carrie and Riven down the winding path to the old wooden building in relative silence.

While Riven got to work on helping set things up on stage, Charlie and Carrie headed to the storage room to dig out the makeup they would need for the day. Eyeing the blonde from her side of the little room, Charlie asked, “Carrie, you’re close with Mick, right?”

Turning toward the woman with the pink-tipped braids, Carrie shrugged with a smile, “I’d say we’re friends, but she’s closer with Miles than she is with me. Why, what’s up?”

Instead of directly answering, Charlie asked, “If Mick was pregnant, would she tell you?”

Carrie’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as she processed the sudden question, but eventually, she said, “I definitely wouldn’t be the first person on the list - maybe not even in the top five - but she might. Why, do you think she’s pregnant?”

Glancing out the door to make sure nobody was close enough to hear, Charlie lowered her voice to a whisper and asked, “Some girls came into the studio yesterday and were telling everyone that they overhead Miles and Vivien talking about Mick being pregnant. I wanted to see if they had said anything to you about it.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Carrie said, “Like I said, I wouldn’t be in the top five, but they would be.” Carrie began counting on her fingers, “Butchy, her parents, Miles, and Vivien - I would assume those would be her top five. I can ask them, if you want?”

“No, no,” Charlie said with a shake of her head, “that’s fine. I just… I want to be careful with it regardless of whether it’s true or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Charlie began as she hefted a metal case of makeup onto her hip, “if she’s not pregnant, we can help squash the rumors now before they get out of control. But, if Mick is pregnant, we need to keep an eye on her. She’s not showing and, depending on how far along she is, that can be detrimental.”

“How so?” Carrie asked, following Charlie through the backstage storage and into the dressing rooms. 

Setting the metal case on a nearby stand, Charlie sighed, “Back when Hayley was pregnant for Vivien, she never once showed. I was with her for most of the pregnancy - as a friend, at the time - and she went through hell. If Mick’s pregnant and is further along in her pregnancy, it could be dangerous for not only her, but for the baby as well.”

Carrie took in a slow breath as she soaked in the information, “Should I talk with Miles about it? See if he can tell me anything?”

“Not right now,” Charlie said. “Let him focus on music lessons. Besides, I haven’t heard anyone talking about it around camp, so I think we should be all set for now. We can talk with him and Vivien later, when they’re not busy banging around on the drums and we don’t have a bunch of makeup to sort through.”

As Charlie pulled a chair out from in front of one of the lightbulb-lined mirrors, Carrie followed suit with a hum. With the metal makeup case between them, Charlie unlatched the clasps and opened the lid before pulling out the extra trays so they could see all that was inside. Looking inside the case at all of the makeup, Carrie asked, “What are we going to do with all of this?”

Smiling at the blonde, Charlie took a lipgloss from the top shelf of the case and said, “We’re going to go through all of this and make sure it’s all still good. If something is good, we’ll try it out and make sure it still looks good. If it passes both tests, we’ll keep it. If it doesn’t, we toss it.”

Examining a tube of mascara, Carrie asked, “How are we going to check if they’re still good before we test if on ourselves?”

Charlie chuckled, “Do you see the little jar on there with a number and a letter on it?”

Carrie searched the tube before nodding, “Yeah, it says ‘6M’ on it.”

“That means it’s good for six months after it was opened.” Charlie looked for the little engraving mark on her lipgloss before setting it aside. “If it still has a wrapper or the receipt is in the little makeup bag at the bottom of the case, we’ll keep it. If not, its trash.”

“Got it,” Carrie said as she reached into the bottom section of the case and pulled out a black box. Carrie’s eyebrow raised as she read the box, “Conspiracy?”

Peering over at the younger girl, Charlie chuckled, “Oh, I remember that! Don’t throw that no matter what it says.”

Glancing up, Carrie asked, “How come?”

“It’s Vivien’s pride and joy,” Charlie claimed.

“But she doesn’t even wear makeup?” Carrie said curiously as she opened the palette.

“No, but she loves that thing,” Charlie smiled. “You see, she had watched this series online of this Youtuber guy and his friend - a makeup guru - making a palette together and that was the end product. She spent two hours waiting for it with me and Hayley, but it sold out within a half an hour. We were lucky enough to get the full set when it relaunched, but she keeps it here to keep Abby out of it.”

With a chuckle, Carrie looked over the shades and commented, “I can’t imagine she got into it at all.”

“She tried,” Charlie said, a ghost of a smile appearing as she reminisced. “She looked like a raccoon and cried before asking me for help.”

“Are you a self-proclaimed ‘makeup freak’ too, then?” Carrie asked.

“Hell yeah,” Charlie laughed. “Kind of have to be when you’re a dancer.”

“How long have you danced?”

Charlie thought for a moment before admitting, “Since I was two. My parents put me into ballet, aka the perfect breeding ground for eating disorders, anxiety, and the fear of imperfection.”

“Ah,” Carrie sighed as she set Vivien’s makeup aside and reached for something new, “been there, done that.”

Charlie set a container of powder aside and said, “You know, when I was younger it was more fun than anything, but once I was put into pointe, it was like I had stepped onto the world’s biggest slip-and-slide. One wrong move and I’d be ditched for the next best dancer.”

A sense of understanding washed over Carrie like a wave. She hadn’t felt overly close with Charlie before, but knowing they both had intense dancing backgrounds and still had lingering side effects from it, gave their budding friendship more depth. “The fear of failure is strong with every former dancer, I guess.”

Charlie hummed, “It must have been a fairly easy transition for you - going from dance to acting. The expressiveness and emotions you need to have on stage could translate well on screen, right?”

“I’d like to say so, yeah,” Carrie agreed. “Though, sometimes, I wish I could just turn my emotions off. It doesn’t take much for me to get all worked up over something small.”

“I can’t say I don’t feel the same way,” Charlie mused. “Although I find it easy to work my emotions into my books. Channeling them into something new helps force you to sort through them slower.”

Carrie thought about it for a moment before grinning, “I don’t think I could do something like that. Writing isn’t exactly my forte.”

With a shrug, Charlie said, “It’s the author in me, I suppose. However, if writing isn’t your thing, you could always try channeling it into music.” At Carrie’s skeptical gaze, Charlie smirked, “Don’t give me that face. I’ve heard you sing. You could really make something if you took the time to sit and work on it.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“And you think I did?” Charlie scoffed, “My first novel looked like a kindergartener wrote it compared to my work now. Nobody starts off great. Anyway, you could always ask Viv or Riven or even Erica for help; they all write music.”

Carrie nodded but then stalled as she reached into the makeup case. Curiously tipping her head to the side as she looked toward Charlie once more, she asked,l “I knew Riven and Erica wrote music, but since when has Vivien written music?”

“For years now,” Charlie claimed as she met the blonde’s blue eyes. “She doesn’t play them with the band muchas she can’t write the sheet music for them, but those journals of hers aren’t just filled with novel ideas. You should talk to her about it sometime. Maybe she’d show you some of her work.”

As Charlie got back to work sorting the makeup into two piles, Carrie hummed thoughtfully, “Maybe.”

“Maybe we can make a new one, but make it a bit bigger,” Carrie offered.

Bentley sighed, “And maybe I should stick with painting instead of pottery.”

As a majority of the playhouse crew had been taken to the carnival that Wednesday, Bentley had dragged Carrie to the art barn to show her his latest works while everyone else kept busy in their normal areas. His paintings, as always, were like something Bob Ross would come out with. Bentley felt at ease with painting; he could sit at an easel with a palette of colors and a set of brushes for hours without getting the least bit distracted. It was also something his brothers declared he shared with their mom - a love and natural talent for telling a story through paintings and sketches. His pottery work, on the other hand… Let’s just say that Bentley could have told everyone a seven-year-old made it and nobody would be able to tell it was his work.

The first few times Bentley had tried to make something with a mound of clay on the spinning wheel, they turned out to be understandably awful - a lopsided vase, a cracked bowl, and a statue of a dog that lost two legs and its tail in the kiln being among his efforts. However, his recent attempts appeared to turn out just the same. His first attempt at making a tea set for Mick had cracked and separated, and the potion bottle he wanted to make for Vivien’s birthday ended up getting damaged when another camper’s sculpture exploded and shattered everything inside the kiln. The mug he had tried to make for Miles was his most recent attempt and, while it still looked like a mug, it was now so small that it looked more like something Vivien would turn into a pair of earrings than it did an actual mug for drinking purposes.

Setting the miniature mug on the table, Bentley slouched into a chair with a huff as he glared at the shrunken pottery. Not willing to let the boy wallow in his thoughts, Carrie offered him a smile and said, “I think it looks great and Miles will too.”

A raised eyebrow answered Carrie as Bentley glanced up at her, “I can’t give that to him - it’s tiny.”

“And you and I both know that he would love it all the same.” As Carrie moved to sit at another pottery wheel, Bentley sighed, but remained quiet as she continued, “He loves everything you make for him and you know that.”

“I know,” Bentley muttered, “but I wanted this to be special.”

“And it still is.”

“How? He can’t drink out of it.”

“Yeah,” Carrie agreed, “but he can use it as a Christmas ornament in a few months.”

Bentley snorted despite himself, the thought of the little mug dangling from their living room tree dancing through his mind. Finally shifting his gaze from the cup to the blonde across from him, Bentley grinned, “He would.”

“I know.” Carrie smiled at the boy before flicking her hair over her shoulder and chuckling, “I wouldn’t put it past him to use that as the star on top with how much he loves caffeine.”

Feeling a bit better about how his failed pottery had turned out, Bentley breathed, “I guess it won’t be a total loss if I give it to him looking like this.”

“Exactly,” Carrie said with a nod. “He’ll love it regardless. And, if you decide to make another, you’ll know to make it a bit bigger.”

“I guess so, yeah,” Bentley agreed. Taking in a deep breath as he stood, Bentley asked, “So, what do you wanna do? We can paint or draw or make awful sculptures of each other, if you want. I’d offer you a photoshoot, but that’s more Royce’s expertise than mine.”

“That’s fine,” Carrie chuckled. “I don’t think I have the artistic abilities to do much of anything here.”

Bentley moved over to the wall of blank canvases and pulled a pair of small ones down as he turned to Carrie once more, “Come on, it’ll be fun. We can hang out and talk while we paint.”

As Bentley set up a pair of easels, Carrie let out a hesitant laugh, “I doubt mine will look anything like yours.”

“It doesn’t have to be good,” Bentley stated. “So long as you’re having fun, that’s all that matters.”

“Are you sure?” Carrie asked as she stood. “I mean, I’d be more than willing to just watch if you want to make something. You know, that way I don’t waste paint on something terrible.”

“As long as the paint goes on the canvas, it’s not a waste,” Bentley insisted. “Besides, we can make anything; nature scenes, a fictional world, or, I don’t know, maybe we could paint ourselves as superheroes or something.”

While Bentley got to work collecting paints to place on a tray between the two easels, Carrie’s train of thought screeched to a halt at the boy’s words. Looking over at the teenager with a smile, Carrie slowly sat down on one of the stools Bentley had pulled over and said, “That reminds me, I actually have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh yeah?” Bentley asked, glancing at Carrie before returning to the tub of assorted paint tubes before him. “What about?”

“Before we left home, I got a call from my manager.”

Hefting the container of paints onto a rolling table between the easels, Bentley looked at Carrie with an almost nervous chuckle, “You’re not getting fired or something, are you?”

Letting out a shocked bark of laughter, Carrie reached over and shoved Bentley’s shoulder, “No!”

Giggling, Bentley said, “Well, you never know!”

With a good-natured roll of her eyes, Carrie shook her head and said, “That’s not it at all. Actually, it’s pretty much the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“A film company I hadn’t heard of before reached out and offered me a role in their new show,” Carrie explained.

“That’s great,” Bentley said with a brilliant smile. “What’s it about?”

“All I know about it is that it’s an assassin show,” Carrie claimed. “However, the only down side is that it’s going to be filming almost exclusively in Europe.”

“Europe?” Bentley repeated. When Carrie nodded, he asked, “What, like England or Scotland?”

“I know part of filming will be in the UK,” Carrie mused, “but for the character they want me to portray, filming would primarily be in Russia, Belarus, or Ukraine.”

Bentley allowed Carrie’s words to sink in, processing them slowly as he uttered, “That’s a long way from home.”

Carrie sighed, “I know. That’s sort of why I haven’t told Miles that they want me signed on.”

“Miles doesn’t know?”

“Not yet, no.” Carrie took in a deep breath before admitting, “I sort of wanted to get your reaction before telling him.”

“Well, I think it’s a great opportunity for you, but I think we both know how Miles will react,” Bentley said. “He’ll be happy for you no matter what. Just remember that he’ll probably end up going to the library to do as much research on your filming locations as possible. Remember what he was like when he had to decide which school to put me and Royce into?”

Of course, Carrie knew all too well. Miles had spent hours upon hours looking into the local schools, trying to figure out which one would be best for his brothers. After work, he would go to the library and research the local schools and their programs, searching for any hint of safety issues or cases of bullying. Royce and Bentley had to ride their bicycles to the library more than once to pry him away when it was almost closing time. After basically interrogating Lela about her old school and trying to see which schools had the best art and literature classes, he finally settled on one and signed all of the application papers overnight, falling asleep at the kitchen table with some of the papers stuck to his face and his pen still in hand. When Carrie showed up to pick Miles up for work the next morning, it took Bentley grabbing the spray bottle from the bathroom and filling it with frigid water to wake him from his slumber.

“Yeah,” Carrie said slowly as she nodded.

“That was just him figuring out a local school for us,” Bentley reminded her. “We weren’t going anywhere out of the state. So, when the time comes and you finally tell him, just know that he’ll be so much worse than that.”

Wondering just how bad it would be, Carrie sat silently, her gaze drifting as she allowed images of Miles scouring shelves of old books and frantically asking Mick and Vivien for help researching things on their phones to fill her mind. Eventually, her gaze drifted back toward Bentley and the two shared a nervous smile before dissolving into laughter. For a while, joy filled the room, filling the silent gaps in conversation that had once lingered between the pair. Eventually, the laughter began to fade and, as Carrie looked to Bentley once more, she sighed, “What have I gotten myself into?”

Bentley snickered, “A few months of pestering questions and nonstop research.”

“At least,” Carrie chuckled with a shake of her head. Taking in a breath, Carrie thought of Miles’ tendency to look into every possibility with a fine-toothed comb and wondered aloud, “I wonder if he’ll do the same for Mick when the time comes.”

“What do you mean?”

Snapping her gaze from the canvas before her to the blond boy beside her, Carrie cleared her throat and said, “It’s nothing, really. It’s just…” she sighed, “Charlie told me that some girls in the dance studio were talking about Mick being pregnant. It’s probably just a rumor, but I was just thinking how Miles would react if he she told him.”

“People really think she’s going to have a baby?” Bentley asked incredulously. “That’s crazy!”

“I thought so too, but there’s no telling,” Carrie claimed with a shrug. “Charlie thinks it could go either way.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“I wonder if anyone else has heard about it,” Bentley said thoughtfully.

Carrie shrugged, “If the campers know, it’s probably spreading through camp as we speak.”

“Probably,” Bentley breathed. He would have to talk to Royce about it later on as he sometimes left the library door open for fresh air. If anyone walked by and was talking about it, he would hear it from the desk. With a shake of his head, Bentley grabbed a palette from the table between himself and Carrie and held it out for her to take. “You ready to get your paint on?”

Carrie eyed the colorfully stained palette before reaching up to take it with a smile, “Absolutely.”

Royce sighed as he ran his towel over his dripping curls. He was going to take a shower that night anyway, but after being unceremoniously shoved into the lake by Riven, he had gone inside to take a shower before they started playing games. Riven had caught him staring at Vivien - a normal occurrence, he thought - and his girlfriend’s skating partner chose to tease him about it when his girlfriend left the pier to help her aunts bring coolers of drinks down from the parking lot. After a while of back-and-forth, Riven gave Royce a nudge, and, needless to say, he was unprepared for it. 

Tripping over the uneven planks, Royce had plunged into the cool lake, scaring off a nearby school of fish as the water enveloped him. Glancing out of the window near his bed as he sat down, Royce huffed; the trail of water he left from the edge of the pier to the front door of their cabin was still faintly visible in the fading sunlight. While it would be gone in the morning, Royce doubted his embarrassment would be. By the time he had resurfaced, Riven was folded over on the dock, laughing like a hyena. Bentley and Erica were no better as they took one look at each other and burst into laughter, only resorting to poorly disguised snickers when Jade elbowed them both in the ribs. Miles and Butchy hauled him up on the pier with matching smirks that told him they wouldn’t be letting it go for at least a day or two. 

As Vivien and her aunts made their way down the beach toward them, Royce ducked past Carrie and Mick and gave a halfhearted response to his girlfriend’s question as to where he was going before ducking into the log cabin they were staying in and allowing the door to slam shut behind himself. Now that he’d had the chance to simmer and wallow in his mortification, Royce wondered if the red tinting his skin was due to the hot water or the embarrassment he still felt pulsing through his veins. Despite the mint-scented body wash he’d practically caked himself in, he could still smell the strong odor of seaweed and fish in the air. Royce sighed; maybe he had gotten water up his nose.

A knock on Royce’s door drew his attention away from his misery and he cleared his throat before asking, “Who is it?”

“Just me.” 

Bentley. Royce took in a deep breath and said, “Come in.”

The handle twisted and Bentley pushed his way into the room with a grin before closing the heavy door behind him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Royce offered. “Did you guys start without me?”

“Of course not,” Bentley chuckled as he moved to sit beside his brother, “but Mickie wants us to watch a video before we play Mafia, so I said I’d come see if you were ready to join.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Royce said as he set his towel aside. “I just hope they’re alright with me still smelling like fish.”

“Ah,” Bentley breathed with a smirk, “so that’s what that smell is.”

Shoving Bentley, Royce chuckled, “Shut up.”

Bentley let out a short laugh, “Seriously, though, you smell fine.”

“Well, good, ‘cause I’m sitting next to you.”

“Oh no!” Bentley gasped dramatically. “Whatever shall I do? I’ll have to deal with you smelling like three-day-old sushi all night.”

“You are such a dick.”

“I can’t be a dick, my name’s not Richard.”

Royce shook his head with a laugh, “Whoever decided Dick was a good name for Richard, clearly hated people named Richard.”

“I know, right,” Bentley chuckled. Pushing himself to his feet, Bentley nudged Royce with the back of his hand and asked, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” Royce nodded, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“You’d better hurry or I’ll eat your peanut butter M&Ms.”

With a roll of his eyes, Royce grabbed his towel and stood, “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.”

As Bentley reached the door, his hand wrapped around the handle, he turned back to Royce and asked, “Hey, um, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Royce said as he tossed his towel into the hamper beside his dresser.

Taking in a contemplative breath, Bentley asked, “Have you noticed anything different with Mick lately?”

Glancing over as he took a pair of shorts and a shirt from his dresser, Royce shrugged, “Not that I know of, why?”

“People are saying she’s pregnant.”

“Really?” When Bentley nodded, Royce asked, “Who did you hear that from?”

Knowing how quickly Royce would dismiss the thought if he said where he truly heard it from, Benltey said, “Some campers. I guess it’s been passing around camp.”

Royce thought for a moment before sighing, “We live with her; I think we would know if she was pregnant.”

“Maybe, but maybe she and Butchy wanted to keep it a secret and someone overheard them talking about it,” Bentley suggested.

The more Royce thought about it, the more things made sense. He knew how fast rumors spread - Vivien’s friendship with Noah being one that was spun into a mess. If Mick and Butchy truly were going to have a baby and someone overheard them talking, it wouldn’t be long before the whole camp knew. Even if they weren’t and someone had made it up, it wouldn’t take long for the camp-wide game of Telephone to make its rounds. Besides, if anyone else had noticed her exhaustion as of late, her few-and-far-between coffee refills at breakfast, or the way she no longer stole pickles from Butchy’s plate during meals, that would only contribute to the way things were spiraling.

“Maybe we should ask and see if anyone has seen a difference in her,” Royce suggested as he set his clothes for the next day on his desk chair.

“I asked Erica and Jade if they noticed anything,” Bentley said, “and Erica said she hadn’t noticed anything, but Jade noticed she’s been having stomach pains lately.”

Royce nodded thoughtfully as he joined Bentley by the door, “I guess we’ll just have to keep an eye on her. Maybe I’ll talk to Miles tomorrow and see if he knows anything.”

“He’s her best friend,” Bentley mused as he pulled the door open. “He and Butchy would be at the top of the list of people Mick would tell.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Royce agreed as he followed Bentley to the stairs.

Royce’s day had gotten off to a pretty good start. Despite sleeping in far later than he usually did, almost everything had gone well. The mess hall had his favorite omelets for breakfast, the library was practically empty up to lunch, and some of the other staff had helped put together a makeshift carnival on the soccer field for everyone to have fun that afternoon. A trampoline Vivien claimed they had borrowed from her grandparents’ house was on one side of the field, a rented slip-and-slide was on the other end, and a myriad of games littered the area. The only other activity that had been set up was a water balloon fight; buckets filled with peltable balloons were arranged in a row stretching across the grass at the bottom of the fence that surrounded the playground off to the side of the field. 

As Royce wandered aimlessly through the field, he spotted his older brother crouching behind a piece of the wooden play structure, water balloon in hand. Making his way over to the wooden fence that separated the playground from the soccer field, Royce watched as a small girl Royce knew usually stayed in the back corner of the library, poked her head around the rock climbing wall and chucked a green balloon in Miles’ general direction before ducking back behind the wall. Just as Royce was about to call out to Miles, he heard another child laugh and watched a balloon sail just over Miles’ head. Miles peered over the wooden planks that sheltered him and quickly threw his balloon, watching it nail a kid who was no older than ten as he crossed an exposed bridge.

“Ah!” the kid shrieked as water burst across his shirt.

Another kid climbed up on the monkey bars to get a better view, but before they could make their shot at Miles, Royce called, “Hey, Miles!” As the kids stalled and Miles turned to see who wanted him, Royce asked, “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Miles nodded, turning and raising his arms in surrender before calling out to the kids, “Hey, guys? I’m tapping out!”

“Come on!” the kid on the monkey bars moaned as Miles stood.

“For how long?” another whined.

“Dunno,” Miles replied as he shrugged. Despite the children’s grumbling complaints, Miles walked over to the fence Royce leaned against with a smile and lowered his voice as he asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

“I, uh, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Alright,” Miles nodded, “go ahead.”

Royce glanced over to where Mick was standing with Butchy, utterly annihilating him at the ring toss station, before looking back to Miles. “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’m just going to ask.” Royce took in a deep breath and sighed, “Do you think there’s any way Mick could be pregnant?”

Although he appeared taken aback, Miles glanced over at Mick and Butchy and thought for a moment before meeting Royce’s eyes and asking, “Where did this come from?”

“Bentley,” Royce replied. “He said he heard a few campers talking about it yesterday and that it could be just a rumor, but from what I’ve seen, it could be true.”

Letting out a slow breath, Miles asked, “What have you seen?”

Royce took in a breath to organize his thoughts before he began, “She’s not drinking energy drinks anymore and she’s having a lot less coffee at breakfast, she hasn’t been eating much of anything and can’t look at certain foods without gagging, and even Jade says that Mick’s been having a lot of stomach pains lately.”

“And both you and Ben think that means she could be pregnant?”

“I looked it up on my phone while I was at my post earlier and the symptoms are very similar.”

Miles spared another glance at Mick as she dragged Butchy to yet another booth with a gleaming smile on her face. Taking a good look at his friend, he wanted nothing more than to dispute Royce’s claim. She looked fine! Not that pregnancy would make her look bad, by any means, but she looked the same as she always did. Shaking his head, he asked, “And Bentley was sure he heard them correctly?”

Royce nodded, humming in confirmation, “He seemed worried about her, so I’d say so, yeah.”

“I’ll try asking him about it later, maybe he’ll remember who it was that said it and we can go from there.”

“Sounds good.”

“Yeah.”

Just as Royce was about to head back to the makeshift carnival, a pain flared against his shoulder as he felt water splash across his face and down his arm. “Ow!” he yelled, sending a glare at the cockily-smirking girl who threw and caught another water balloon. 

“What the fuck?” Miles called to the kids as they laughed from their places on the play structure.

“I’m not even playing!” Royce called.

“‘Cause you’re a chicken?” a boy called back.

“Chicken!” the girl with the devilish smile taunted.

“You’re a chicken, Royce!” another kid called.

As the children continued their teasing in the hopes of goading Royce into playing, Royce sighed, “Sometimes, I really hate those kids.”

Miles turned to Royce with a smirk and nodded toward the kids, lowering his voice as he asked, “You want to fuck them up?”

Royce took a look around and, noting that everyone was a pretty good distance from them, nodded as he turned back to Miles, “Yeah, I do.”

With a proud grin, Miles turned back toward the kids and began walking back to his previous spot as he called out, “You asked for it!”

“Better run, you little rugrats!” Royce called as he climbed over the fence.

Filing into the mess hall with damp shirts and laughter on their lips, Miles and Royce made their way to the end of the line to grab trays and fill them with food. After grabbing a tray, Royce took off, telling Miles he was going to talk to Vivien before disappearing down the line. Miles shook his head with a fond smile, glad his brother found happiness in little moments with his girlfriend. After grabbing some mac and cheese from its tin, Miles rounded a few campers and found himself next to Bentley as his youngest brother shoveled steak tips onto his plate.

“Let me guess,” Miles began, making Bentley jump, “you’re planning on drowning that in ketchup.”

“Absolutely,” Bentley beamed. “And you’ll pour that nasty steak sauce on yours like you always do.”

“Okay, first of all, it’s not nasty, you just have no taste buds,” Miles said. “And, second of all, yes, yes, I will.”

As Bentley’s face contorted into one of disgust, he handed the tongs to Miles and muttered, “Gross.”

Rolling his eyes with a smile, Miles grabbed some steak from the tin it sat in. Glancing at his youngest brother, Miles lowered his voice and said, “You know, I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

Bentley turned to Miles before quickly sighing, his eyes closing in defeat as he said, “If this is about the salamander, I swear, I had nothing to do with it.”

Miles turned toward Bentley again and asked, “What salamander?”

Searching his brother’s eyes for any sign of deception, Bentley slowly said, “I take it Carrie didn’t tell you.”

“No,” Miles said. “Why? What happened?”

Letting out a snort, Bentley recalled, “She and I were walking to the cabin so we could make sure we had stuff for the movie tonight and, on the way back, Carrie went to take a drink of her water and found that a little lizard had climbed onto her bottle.”

“And you had nothing to do with it?” Miles asked skeptically.

“Of course not,” Bentley replied. “Carrie and I have actually been getting along. If Royce had been there, I would have blamed him, but he was with you, so…”

“So the lizard just wanted a drink, huh?”

“Guess so.”

Heaving a sigh as he joined Bentley at the juice bowl, Miles said, “Anyway, that wasn’t what I was hoping to talk with you about.”

“Oh yeah, right,” Bentley chuckled. “So, what do you wanna talk about?”

“I was talking with Royce earlier and he said you told him there’s a rumor that Mick might be pregnant,” Miles stated. “I was just wondering if you knew which campers were spreading it around?”

“Well,” Bentley began, heaving a thoughtful sigh as he looked up at his brother, “the thing is, I didn’t overhear it from some campers.”

“You didn’t?” When Bentley shook his head, Miles asked, “Why did you tell Royce you had?”

Bentley sighed, “I didn’t want to say anything to Royce because I knew he would deny it if he knew who really told me. He’d probably say she was just spreading crap around or something, but I knew it was true and I didn’t want him to just brush it off.”

It didn’t take Miles long to figure out who his youngest brother was talking about. “You heard it from Carrie?”

“Yeah, she and I talked about it yesterday,” Bentley said with a nod. “She said that Charlie told her some girls in the dance studio were talking about it.”

Glancing at the table they normally sat at, Miles was glad to see the table had yet to be filled with their cabin’s inhabitants, but both of Vivien’s aunts had already claimed their normal seats. Then, just as Miles was preparing to make his way over and question Charlie himself, Mick and Butchy made their way to their seats and began conversing with the older women. Turning back to his brother, Miles asked, “Tonight, when Charlie and Hayley are making snacks for movie night, can you keep the others away so I can talk to them?”

Raising his hand to his forehead in a mock salute, Bentley smiled, “Aye aye, captain.”

Chuckling, Miles reached up and ran a hand through Bentley’s hair, ruffling it as he turned and headed for the table they typically dined at. Sitting down at his usual spot, he briefly wondered if Mick knew about the circulating rumors or if it had been a rumor at all. If her beaming smile and boundless laughter at Hayley’s terrible jokes were anything to go by, he doubted the brunette knew anything of the rumors. However, he couldn’t be sure. Mick’s tendency to laugh during awkward situations made it hard to tell what she did or didn’t know. Even if she was pregnant and had chosen to keep it a secret, he wondered if the rumors floating around would have any effect on her. She took almost everything to heart.

Miles inwardly sighed; he would just have to wait and find out for himself.

The smell of popcorn and the sound of laughter filled the cabin as Miles stepped inside. While everyone else was outside, playing ninja on the end of the pier and pushing the losers into the lake, Miles had slipped away in the hopes of finding Charlie and Hayley alone in the house. Just as he had presumed, they were in the kitchen, sitting on the countertops with cups of green juice that looked almost radioactive.

“Hey, Miles,” Hayley greeted, raising her cup slightly as Charlie waved. 

“Hey,” he said in return.

“Did Viv send you in to ask about the snacks?” she asked with a knowing smirk. Before he could answer, Hayley chuckled, “She knows I won’t give her a straight answer, so she sends her friend instead - the little shit.”

Before Miles could say anything to the contrary, Charlie smiled and said, “The popcorn isn’t in yet, but the pretzels are almost done.”

“That’s good,” Miles said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Viv didn’t send me in, though.”

“Oh,” Hayley said, “that’s surprising.”

“What did you come in for?” Charlie asked. “A drink, some chips, maybe to save me from my wife’s terrible puns.”

Hayley scoffed, placing a hand over her heart as though she’d been stabbed, “My jokes aren’t terrible!”

“Yeah, they are.”

“You laughed, asshole.”

“It was a pity laugh.”

“Bullshit,” Hayley laughed.

With a roll of her eyes and an exaggerated sigh, Charlie turned her focus back to Miles and smiled as she asked, “Anyway, what do you need, sweetheart?”

“I was actually hoping to ask you something,” Miles admitted.

“Me?” Charlie asked, pointing to herself. Miles hummed in confirmation. “Well, in that case, I’m all ears.”

Taking in a deep breath, Miles sighed as he slowly recounted, “Royce told me that Bentley said that Carrie told him that you said you heard people talking about Mick being pregnant. I was wondering if you knew who was talking about it?”

As Charlie thought it over, her eyebrow raised and she lowered her cup of juice to the counter beside her as she said, “Some girls in the studio were talking about it, yeah, but they said that they heard it from you and Vivien.”

“What?” Miles wondered. “But I just found out about it today.”

Charlie glanced down, allowing herself to think over what had happened in the last week. Slowly, she claimed, “On Monday, I was instructing ballet and jazz. Dina Woodward injured her wrist and I stepped out with her to wrap it. When I came back, everyone in the studio was giggling and talking. A group of girls said they went by the music hall on their way in and overheard you and Vivien talking about Mick being pregnant.”

Miles allowed the woman’s words to sink in as he tried to recall what happened on Monday. He and Vivien had been in the music hall, playing guitar, talking, and relaxing as rain pelted the area. Vivien had been particularly tired that day, nearly falling asleep on Miles' shoulder as they sat in silence. Then, as the timer for the pretzels dinged, it hit him. While Miles was worrying about the possibility of rain coming through the ceiling, Vivien had asked him a question about the chance of Mick being pregnant, listing off her reasoning for thinking about it. While they were talking, the wind had slammed the door. However, Vivien had checked it and they moved on like nothing happened. Maybe it hadn’t been the wind. Maybe it had been the campers listening in.

“We started all of this,” he admitted softly. With a heavy sigh, Miles said, “I have to go tell Vivien so we can stop the rumors.”

As Hayley pulled the tray of pretzels from the oven, she requested, “Maybe you should wait until tomorrow.”

“What?” Miles asked. “Why?”

Charlie hopped down from the counter and crossed over to Miles, resting a hand on his arm as she replied for her wife, “Tonight, we’re supposed to be relaxing with some good movies and good snacks. Let everyone take some time to breathe - yourself included - and you can worry about it tomorrow.”

“But-”

Charlie was quick to cut him off, reaching up and cupping Miles’ cheek in her free hand to draw his attention to her words, “But it will still be an issue tomorrow and everyone will still be understanding tomorrow. Take the night to enjoy time with the family. Rumors at camp don’t last, but memories with your family do. You can work things out with everyone tomorrow, but give yourself time to process it for now.”

“Yeah,” Hayley agreed as she moved to stand beside her wife as Charlie patted Miles’ shoulder comfortingly. “Besides, Vivien will go into a full-tilt frenzy trying to make things right and, if you start that tonight, that poor child won’t sleep. If you tell her in the morning, she’ll have enough energy to fuss about it all day.”

“Hails,” Charlie gently reprimanded, elbowing the woman beside her.

“What?” Hayley asked rhetorically, a laugh falling from her lips as she returned to the counter to salt the pretzels. “It’s the truth. She’s just like me and we both know it.”

With a roll of her eyes and a sigh, Charlie turned back to Miles and smiled, “As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. I know you want to fix this here and now, but you and I both know you want Vivien’s help since you both are, somehow, at the start of it.”

“Yeah,” Miles admitted in a breath.

“So, like Hayley said, I think you should wait,” Charlie claimed. “It will still be there tomorrow and you can work on it together without having to deal with a sleep-deprived, caffeine-riddled Vivien stumbling through the grounds like Jack Sparrow on dry land.”

Letting out a snicker at the mental image of Vivien fumbling her way through the camp with a bullhorn, shouting incoherent claims in the hopes of clearing Mick’s reputation, Miles chuckled, “Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be the greatest way to handle things.”

“Mhm,” Charlie hummed, patting Miles' hand as she turned and grabbed a stack of cups from the counter. “Now, take these out and hand them to everyone. We’ll be out in a few with snacks and drinks and then we can start the movie.”

“Are you sure you guys don’t need help?” Miles offered.

“Are you a psychiatrist?” Hayley asked as she set a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

Miles’ head tipped curiously to the side as his eyebrow raised and he slowly replied, “No?”

“Then, no, I think we’re all set,” Hayley chirped as the microwave whirred to life.

Rolling her eyes once more, Charlie pushed the cups into Miles’ hands and said, “Take these and run before you’re subjected to any of her horrendous jokes.”

Miles chuckled, taking the cups and heading toward the hallway, “Alright, alright, I’m going.”

As the popcorn began sizzling in the microwave, Hayley turned to Charlie, leaned against the counter, and asked, “If my jokes are so bad, why do you always laugh?”

“Because I love you,” Charlie answered with ease as she sidled her way up to her wife.

“And here I thought you found me funny.”

“Funny looking, maybe,” Charlie teased, “but those puns of yours are just plain terrible, my dear.”

Placing the back of her hand to her forehead and letting out a gasp of air, Hayley whined, “Oh, how you wound me!”

“Drama queen.”

“Fun hater.”

“Oh yeah?” Charlie said. When Hayley nodded, Charlie asked, “Do you know what the leading cause of divorce is?”

Curious, Hayley offered, “A lack of humor in a relationship?”

“Nope,” Charlie said with a shake of her head before leaning up and kissing Hayley on the cheek. “A stalemate.”

As Charlie took the bag of popcorn from the microwave and opened it to pour it into a bowl, Hayley processed the joke, her jaw slowly opening in shock, “Holy shit; was that a fucking pun?!”

“You know,” Vivien mused, “when Carrie told me to break a leg, this wasn’t what I thought she meant.”

In place of their usual day of recreation and rehearsals, that Friday was spent challenging the campers and staff alike. Unlike many of their previous days filled with activities, The Gauntlet - as the campers had begun calling it - had taken place at the amphitheatre and, as many expected, many workers had signed on to participate. Between the ropes course, the speed challenge, the scavenger hunt, and the climbing wall, everyone had their work cut out for themselves in one way or another. While the campers competed in teams, the staff were left to fend for themselves.

It was to no one’s surprise that Vivien had signed up to compete; her boundless energy and competitive nature boiled over when she found both Riven’s and Noah’s names on the sign-up sheet. What was surprising, however, was the fact that she ended up getting injured. Despite making it through the race in the top three and finding everything on her scavenger hunt list with relative ease, it was the ropes course that had been Vivien’s downfall. Near the end of the course, her foot had slipped on the wooden planks, sending her flying into the podium, and she narrowly avoided slamming face-first into the trunk of a tree. 

Riven had managed to get her down after she quickly discovered how painful standing was, but as the auburn-haired skater was next in line for the next segment of the challenge, Miles had offered to take Vivien to the health center to see how bad her injury truly was. That was where they could be found, Miles hitching Vivien further up in his piggyback hold as he made his way to the front entrance of the health center. 

Miles chuckled, “I highly doubt you’ve broken anything.”

“I know, but still,” Vivien shrugged. “It’s a good thing I got to know her before Royce’s impression of Carrie infected my brain.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” the brunette hummed. “Otherwise, I would’ve said she put some ancient curse on me or something.”

Miles let out a snort as he paused to glance over his shoulder at the younger girl, “An ancient curse? Really?”

“I’m from New England, the home of literal witches,” Vivien deadpanned. “At this point, anything’s possible.”

With an amused shake of his head, Miles chuckled, “Yeah, I can’t see Carrie as a witch.”

“I could,” Vivien said with a smirk as Miles pushed the health center door open with his shoe. At Miles’ curious look, she said, “Tell me she wouldn’t be an incredible Sarah Sanderson.”

“That’s the one from Hocus Pocus, right?” Miles asked as he nudged his way further into the building. “The one who they push into the street to see if it kills them?”

“Yeah!” Vivien chirped as Miles set her on one of the beds. “You know, the blonde who sings to draw everyone in with her magic. Carrie would be incredible as her.”

As Miles pulled a stool over to sit on, he nodded, smiling at Vivien as he sat before her, “I could see that working out.”

“Just wait until I have her watch those with me after my birthday,” Vivien chuckled. “I give her an hour before she starts planning to have you two dress up as Sarah and Billy for halloween.”

“An hour?” Miles chuckled with a shake of his head. “Half an hour, maybe, but I doubt she’d wait an entire hour.”

Vivien smiled as she worked on untying her shoes, “Yeah, true. Maybe she, Mick, and I could go as the Sanderson sisters this year.”

“I thought you, Royce, and Bentley were going as Stranger Things characters.”

“We haven’t decided yet,” Vivien shrugged. “I wanted to go as Max or Robin and Royce was going as Steve or Dustin. Bentley wanted to go as Will, but then he saw the demogorgon costume and now that’s up in the air. But, if they can’t decide before we go to Spirit Halloween, I’m going to just go with the girls and they can fend for themselves.”

Miles let out a snort as Vivien dropped her shoe to the floor, “Then I’ll have to listen to them whining for the foreseeable future.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

Miles chuckled and shook his head, “Speaking of problems, we need to talk about something, but first, can you move your foot at all?”

Vivien sucked in a breath and winced as she moved her foot around in a slow circle, “Yeah, but it hurts.”

“Alright, so it’s definitely not broken,” he mused, “but it could be a sprain or a twist.”

“My bet’s on a sprain,” Vivien commented. “Even with a twist, I can stand and put weight on it.”

Miles looked around, “Do you know where they keep the crutches?”

Raising a hand, Vivien pointed to a closet on the far wall, “In there. The code for the lock is nineteen-seventy-three - the year Nonna and Grandpa George got married.”

Miles stood and made his way to the closet, setting the lock aside and opening the door before grabbing a set of crutches and making his way back to Vivien. “How tall are you?” he asked as he examined the slider at the bottom of the metal crutches.

“Five-eight,” she replied. As Miles got to work on adjusting her crutches, Vivien used a sigh to blow her hair from her face and asked, “So, what problems do we need to talk about?”

Glancing up at the girl before him, Miles took in a breath and asked, “Do you remember the other day when you and I were talking about Mick being pregnant?”

The brunette thought for a moment before slowly nodding, “Uh, yeah, why? Is she?”

“No,” Miles said before pausing. “Actually, I don’t know. What I do know is that a group of campers overheard us and has been spreading a rumor around camp that Mick’s pregnant.”

Vivien let out a humorless chuckle, “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish I was.”

“How did you find out about it?” she asked.

“Royce told me and Bentley had told him,” Miles stated. “I guess Bentley heard it from Carrie who heard it from Charlie who heard it when the campers went to the dance studio after overhearing us talk about it.”

Vivien thought about the chain of events before recalling, “When the door slammed and I went to check it, there were campers running to the dance studio, but they were far enough away that I thought it couldn’t have been them.”

“Well, I guess it actually was.” Miles set the crutches aside for Vivien and looked up at her before saying, “Now, we have to fix it.”

Vivien nodded slowly, “We should talk to Mick first and get things straight. If the rumor is about her, she should know about it.”

“Yeah, and even if she’s actually pregnant, it would be best to get the story straight,” Miles agreed.

Vivien nodded, but before she could say anything more, the door to the health center opened and Butchy stepped inside, sending the pair a smile as he asked, “How’s everything going?”

Miles was the first to answer, “It’s probably a sprain.”

“I’ll be fine after a day or two,” Vivien shrugged. “I’ve sprained my foot before and it never lasts long if I take a day off of it.”

“Alright,” Butchy said with a small grin, “in that case, consider yourself crutch-bound for the next few days.”

“It’s going to suck at the carnival tomorrow,” Vivien sighed, “but that’s what I get for doing stupid shit.”

Fighting the instinct to tell the teenager off for swearing when a child could walk in at any minute, Butchy chuckled and leaned against the bed next to her, “We’ll work something out for you tomorrow, piccola. One of those air casts or a brace, maybe.”

“Maybe.” Vivien shrugged, “As long as I get to go on the Tilt-A-Whirl, I’ll be fine with whatever.”

Butchy reached up, bringing an arm around Vivien’s shoulders with a smile, “Atta girl. You feel up to going back to the amphitheatre and watching the rest of the competition?”

“It might take me a while to get there,” Vivien snickered as she took her new metallic friends and settled them under her arms, “but yeah. Are Noah and Riven still in it?”

“Noah lost the ropes course to Riven, but that’s all I know,” Butchy claimed as he stood.

As Vivien stood and began hobbling her way to the door she turned to Miles and asked, “Are you coming?”

Miles smiled, “Yeah, I just have to lock up the closet again. I’ll meet you along the way.”

“Okay,” she said, allowing Butchy to take the lead as she made her way outside.

Once the closet was locked up once again, Miles pulled his phone from his pocket and opened his messages. Finding his last conversation with Mick, he typed, 'Can we talk later? In private?'

It wasn’t long before he got a reply, 'Of course, why, what’s up?'

'Too much to type. Meet in the playhouse after dinner?'

'Sure, see you there.'

It wasn’t often that Butchy found himself walking back to the cabin without Mick by his side, however, as he had kitchen duty that week, he had told her to just head out while he got to work cleaning up. Though the air outside the mess hall was still thick with humidity, the sky had begun to darken and cool the heat of the day. The amount of plates covered in chili and melted cheese had made his fingertips turn to raisins in the soapy sink water and the steam from the hot water made him feel as though he’d been working in a sauna, but the cooler outside air was a welcoming contrast to the heat of the wooden building. Taking in a deep breath, Butchy sighed as a breeze blew by, urging him to make his way back to the lodge he resided in.

He wondered what everyone was up to. They wouldn’t have a game night or movie night without him there as they only ever spent those nights as a whole group. Maybe they were sitting around the living room, doing their own thing. Mick would probably be reading in her corner of the couch while Miles and Riven talked music on the opposite end. Charlie, Jade, and Carrie would most likely be found painting each others’ faces in jelly masks while Bentley and Royce would be on the floor with Vivien, talking about things they only ever talked about together. If he had to guess, Erica and Hayley would be talking off to the side. For some reason, the unlikely pair had grown close after Erica discovered Hayley was the wild child in her family and Butchy had seen the two talking a lot as of late.

Letting out a long breath, Butchy pushed his hair back and began the walk home. Normally the walk went by quickly as everyone chattered about their days and the camper drama they had heard. However, as cicadas chirped in the bushes and the faint buzz of the sparse overhead lights, the journey felt as though it would take a lifetime. A few cabins still had campers and counselors lingering outside, chatting as they dreaded the call of lights out, but many kept their doors closed as they prepared for the evening. 

Pushing his way through a line of bushes, Butchy took a shortcut between the health center and the playhouse, glancing toward the health center to make sure the lights were off before continuing toward the playhouse. Spotting a light on through one of the side windows, Butchy made his way to the back of the building, opened the screen door, and pushed his way inside before pulling out his cell phone for a flashlight. Just as he flicked it on, he heard a voice from the main hall where a performance would be rehearsed for the next week.

Choosing to not call out in case it was just people cleaning, Butchy made his way through the back rooms before stepping through the doorway that led to the back of the stage. As he got closer, the voices got louder and, before long, he could make out a set of distinct voices. A heavy sigh came from the main room before he heard a familiar voice say, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Mick? What was she doing in the playhouse at this hour? Was she helping someone run lines? Then another voice cut through Butchy’s thoughts, “I wish I was.”

Miles. Since when did he have anything to do with the play? He hated being on stage. Before Butchy could peer around the curtains of the stage to see what was going on, his hand stilled in the air and another voice filled the air, “I mean, at least you found out from us first and not from some random campers, right?”

Vivien’s question gave Butchy pause. As far as he could recall, Hairspray didn’t have a summer camp. Whatever they were discussing, had nothing to do with the play. Lowering his hand, Butchy listened as his wife scoffed, “Still! Half the camp thinks I’m pregnant and I had no clue! Is that why everyone’s been asking me if I’m okay and checking on me all the time?”

“Probably,” Vivien said. “It could just be that they were worried about you.”

“Why would they be?” Mick pressed. “I’m fine.”

“You weren’t eating well and you got nauseous at breakfast almost every day,” Miles stated. 

Mick let out a sigh and Butchy could imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration as she huffed, “I started my period and my sense of smell went haywire. It usually goes away after the first few days.”

“You were tired all the time too,” Vivien chimed in.

Butchy had noticed Mick’s exhaustion as of late, but he knew Mick had a good explanation for that as well. “I have two reasons for that,” she began. “First off, I was trying to finish my book before my interest in it died during the week. And, second, Butchy and I have been going on late-night excursions for the camp.”

“You have?” Vivien asked. “Why?”

Mick sighed, “I can’t say just yet, but you’ll see sooner or later. For now, just know that, no, I’m not pregnant. We’ll just have to work on clearing it all up over the weekend with all the kids gone.”

“How are we going to do that?” Miles asked.

Again, Mick sighed, her voice low as she said, “I don’t know, but we can start by spreading things to the counselors. Once they know the truth, they can talk with the campers and clear the air in the privacy of their cabins.”

“We can also tell everyone in our cabin so they can relax,” Vivien added.

“Who else knows about this and didn’t say anything?” Mick asked.

“Royce told me,” Miles began, “and he found out from Bentley, who was told by Carrie, who heard it from Charlie, who was told by the dancers.”

“And I talked to Riven and Aunt Hayley about it

“So practically everyone?” Mick asked.

Vivien chuckled nervously, “To be fair, not everyone believed it, so they didn’t say anything to anybody outside of the cabin.”

“Actually,” Miles started, “Bentley said he talked to Erica and Jade, but I think they’re the only ones outside of the cabin who knew.”

“The only person I think hasn’t heard about it, is Butchy,” Vivien claimed. 

“Yeah,” Miles agreed, “I think he would’ve said something if he did.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Mick huffed. After a moment of silence, she took in a breath and said, “We’ll start tonight. We can talk to everyone and make sure everything is smoothed out. As long as we can get through to most of the people in our cabin tonight, I’ll feel better about it, but I want to talk to Butchy about it one-on-one.”

“That’s understandable,” Miles stated.

“I’ll work on everyone else at breakfast,” Vivien said. “I know a few people who would spread it around fastest. Once I get to them, things will clear up pretty quickly.”

As the call for everyone to return to their cabins echoed through the camp, Butchy heard Mick let out a relieved sigh, “With any luck, this will be over before the campers come back.”

“Yeah,” Vivien said optimistically.

“Now, lets get back before the others send out a search party,” Miles chuckled.

“And get to clearing the air with everyone before Butchy gets back from cleaning the mess hall,” Vivien added.

“Yeah,” Mick muttered.

As Butchy listened to their footsteps echo throughout the playhouse, he inched the curtain to the side, watching as his wife left with Miles and Vivien’s arms wrapped around her. None of them looked back to see him standing there, watching them, and as Miles flicked the house lights off, turning the playhouse into a dark abyss of shadows, Butchy wondered how long they had been there, talking. Had he found them early in the conversation or had they been there since they left the mess hall? 

Another thing that came to the front of Butchy’s mind was how everyone seemed to know apart from him. Was he truly the last person in their cabin to hear the rumor about Mick’s pregnancy? Who could have started something like that and how had the rumor begun spreading? If it was truly just a rumor as it sounded like Mick said it was, how had it spread throughout the camp? And, again, how would he have been the last to know? As the father of Mick’s rumored child, why would he be the last person in line to know?

Taking in a breath, Butchy shook his head and sighed. He was overthinking it. Mick already said it was nothing more than a rumor; he had nothing to be stressed over. It wasn’t like she was actually pregnant and simply chose not to tell him. If that had been the case, he would have had every right in the world to be at least a little bit upset. That would have been an entirely new can of worms to crack open.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket once more, Butchy turned on the flashlight and made his way back to the back door, ensuring that the lights were off and everything was put away before leaving the playhouse and making his way to the path that connected to the beach. He took his time getting back to the cabin and, by the time he reached the sand of the beach, the sun had set behind the treeline and everyone was congregating on the end of the pier. Despite their smiling faces and jokes about how many dishes he must have had to scrub, he could see in their eyes how serious their previous conversations must have been.

As Butchy took his seat on the pier beside his wife and felt her head rest cozily on his shoulder, he wondered just how long it would take her to tell him. After spending so much time with her, he knew she would need time to sort through her thoughts and feelings on the matter. He had no issue allowing her the space to do so. If he had found out some rumor about himself was spreading amongst his closest friends as well as a myriad of gossiping campers, he would be pretty worked up about it too. As they watched the sunset illuminate the sky, Butchy allowed himself to relax. After all, he had nothing to worry about… right?

Ah, the carnival. The only place where the overwhelming smell of popcorn and fried dough, the sky-high prices of tickets, and the crowds packed tighter than a tin of sardines didn't have any effect on people’s happiness. Workers standing in the summer heat called for people of all ages to try the rigged games they were stationed at, begging them to pay five dollars for a toy they could easily buy at the dollar store. While parents were dragged to ticket counters and various rides their children claimed they just had to ride, groups of teenagers and adults alike gathering on the weekend for a day away from jobs and other responsibilities, roamed free.

After Vivien’s grandparents reassured the group that they had bought day-pass bracelets for everyone, they were practically ushered to the parking lot and encouraged to have a good day away from everything. Upon their arrival at the fairgrounds, the group filed out of the van and found their way through the crowds of people to the line that extended from a row of brightly-colored ticket booths. After making their way to the front of the line and being handed a stack of bracelets with rubber bands wrapped around it, the group found their way to a fairly unoccupied table and worked on figuring out what to do for the day.

After deciding to meet at the Ferris Wheel to figure out what to have for lunch, almost everyone went their separate ways. Vivien and Riven were quick to race to a ride called Pharaoh's Fury, eager to prove that they could handle the pendulum-style ride. Royce and Bentley followed the skating duo but quickly branched off to the nearby Scrambler when Bentley saw just what the Pharaoh’s Fury entailed. As Miles and Carrie wandered off to find something to do, Butchy allowed Mick to guide him around the fairgrounds.

They walked in relative silence, the screams of people on rides and the calls from game operators the only sounds nearby. Butchy wondered what could be going on in Mick’s head. She hadn’t said much of anything since the night before and, while Butchy didn’t want to press her to talk, he missed the sound of her voice. Taking in a breath, Butchy looked around and offered, “Would you like some cotton candy?”

Mick looked up at him and thought for a moment before shaking her head, “Not right now. I think I’ll wait until after we go on some rides to eat anything.”

“Where would you like to go first?” he asked.

With a sigh, Mick looked around and shrugged, “I have no idea.”

Butchy allowed her to look around, taking in the different rides and attractions before asking, “Mickie, are you alright?”

Peering curiously up at her husband, Mick slowly replied, “I was until you asked. Why?”

“You’ve been pretty quiet today,” Butchy stated, “and, usually, you have days like this planned down to the tiniest detail. I was just worried.”

Heaving a sigh, Mick shook her head, “I just have a lot on my mind today. I wanted to talk with you about it when we’re alone, but it doesn’t seem like that will be any time soon.”

Deciding it would be best to inadvertently hit the nail on the head, Butchy lowered his voice and asked, “Is it about that rumor that was going around camp?” When Mick’s wide eyes met his, Butchy sighed, “I don’t know what you heard, but I swear, I didn’t take kitchen duty this week in order to poison Carrie. Not only would it risk poisoning everyone at camp, but it would also make me the number one suspect in her murder, according to Vivien.”

Mick stopped in her tracks and, once Butchy turned back to face her, she asked, “Wait, so you’ve had rumors going around about you this week too?”

“Yeah,” Butchy claimed. “I’m assuming you have too?”

“Yeah,” Mick breathed. “Everyone was saying I was pregnant.”

Butchy froze as though he was hearing this for the first time. Looking his wife over, he took a step closer to her, taking her by the arms as he softly asked, “You’re not?”

“No,” Mick giggled, “I just said it was a rumor.”

Butchy glanced around before quietly saying, “We can change that, if you’d like.”

Mick’s eyes widened as she muttered, “What?”

“It doesn’t have to be a rumor.” With a teasing smirk, Butchy continued, “We could sneak off to the car and nobody would know.”

A shocked noise left Mick and her face burned as she squawked, “Butchy!”

“What?” Butchy asked in mock-astonishment. “I just thought we could go get one of those fake pregnancy tests from that joke shop near Walmart. I don’t know what you were thinking we’d be doing.”

Mick smacked Butchy’s chest as she huffed, “Remind me why I married you.”

“I wish I knew,” Butchy chuckled as he brought an arm around Mick’s shoulders. “I think you were just in it for the motorcycle and I was like the cruddy little prize at the bottom of the cereal box - unnecessary, but you still took it anyway.”

“Sounds about right,” Mick said with a smile, nudging Butchy with her elbow before bringing her arm around his middle. “So, you never heard about the pregnancy rumor?”

“Not until you said something,” Butchy stated. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. He had heard her say it the night before, but she didn’t need to know that. “What about you? Had you heard about me poisoning Carrie?”

Mick snorted, “No, but to be honest, I wouldn’t put that past you.”

Acting as though he’d been shot in the heart, Butchy brought a hand to his chest and gasped, “And here I thought you’d be my alibi for the crime.”

“Yeah, no,” Mick said with a shake of her head as she led her husband toward a swinging chair ride. “You and I both know I’m a terrible liar, so the chances of that happening are slim to none.”

“Guess that means I should put the antifreeze back in the truck, then, huh?”

“Butchy!”

[schdns]

Truth Questions:

1.What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?

2.Have you ever lied to get out of trouble? What was the lie?

3.What’s something you’ve never told anyone, but feel like sharing?

4.Have you ever had a crush on someone you shouldn’t have?

5.What’s the weirdest habit you have that no one knows about?

6.Who is the last person you Googled and why?

7.If you could change one thing about your appearance, what would it be?

8.What’s the most rebellious thing you’ve done in your life?

9.Have you ever been caught doing something you shouldn’t have?

10.What’s one thing you regret not saying or doing?

Ameownymous😸

1. I was in grade school then. My teacher counts me in on the school's singing contest, tapos every recess, we'll gather around by the stage to practice. Eh during that time I had a crush on a high school boy. Little did I know that my crush was my teacher's pet. I LITERALLY SANG RIGHT IN FRONT OF THAT BOY, WHO WAS JUST A METER AWAY FROM ME. oh, the horror.

2. Confidential.

3. I'm a really private person so I never feel like I wanna share my secrets.

4. When I was just a teenager, like literally 14 years old, I had a situationship with someone from facebook. Eh that was during the time that posers were everywhere. So long story short, he was a poser. And I developed feelings for the person he was posing as. This crush went on for 3 fucking years, bro. My own loyalty betrays me. And the reason why it wasn't possible was because he was so much older than me and he was in vegas.

5. I wouldn't say weird, it's just a preference. But I like microwaving my cereals to make them crispy on the inside but soggy on the outside. The roof of my mouth is really sensitive so everytime I eat chips or cereals, my mouth gets super sore. So I prefer my food softer.

6. The casts of HTTYD. I wanted to see who went for the role of Astrid.

7. Nothing. My face represents my parents' genes.

8. I'm lame, so the most rebellious thing I did was to cut classes.

9. We had a group project back in college so my friends stayed over at home for us to finish it. But the thing is, we can finish it in half an hour. The true plan was to just have a few drinks. Eh I forgot that my dad was leaving for a business trip early in the morning. So when he woke up and got down, he saw us drinking instead of doing school works :D

10. I regret telling my ex how much I loved and treasured him. It felt like I didn't express my feelings towards him enough.

Thank you! Meow.

[commander-writergirl]

Red String of Fate 2

Synopsis: In a world where your soulmate is picked for you with a name tattooed, you are born with the rare trait of not seeing colors until you meet yours. You never expected the universe to foresee the divided mind of your other half.

Pair: Jake Lockley x Jewish!fem!reader, Steven Grant x Jewish!fem!reader, Marc Spector

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Mention of child abuse (verbal), mentions of death, car crash, drunk driver, alcoholism

Word Count: 2,151

Tags: @softlyspector @romanarose @ginger-haired-queen @loonymagizoologist​ 

“Wait, wait.” I turned from the eggs I was cooking to look at Steven. “Why didn’t you tell me before you were vegan?”

The spoon Steven held stopped halfway to his mouth before setting it back in the bowl. “Y-you just always seemed so happy to cook for me. I didn’t want to ruin it.” He answered rubbing his hands along his pants.  

Steven still had a lot of nervous energy around me even after months of being together.  

And I knew he was being honest, Jake even stepped out of the kitchen when I began cooking because I just disappeared into my own little world. I hadn’t gotten around to telling the boys about my mother yet... even almost 16 years later, her death still hung around.

I shook my head and walked over to Steven. Once I stood next to him, I ran my fingers through his curls. “You could have told me; I could have tried to cook more vegan friendly meals.”  

He leaned into my hand, his eyes drifting close. I smiled lightly and tilted his head back before pressing my lips to his. He hummed and held me close to his side. I giggled. “Jake would have taken the chance to bend me over the table.”

Steven nodded, “Yea, the bloke won’t stop mentioning it.”  

I shook my head, “Well now I know to make more vegan meals.” I said walking back to the stove and finishing up my eggs.

Steven’s spoon clanked against the bowl a few times. “Well maybe if you keep them kosher, it won't be so bad.”  

I smiled to myself, moving the eggs from the frying pan to my plate. “I can certainly do that.” I grabbed my plate and walked over to the table.

“So, any plans today?” Steven asked, resuming his task of finishing his cereal before it got too soggy.

I took a bit of egg before answering him, “Yes, I have matinee ticket to a friend's production.” I looked at my watch. “Shit, I’m gonna be late.” I shoveled a few more bites into my mouth before getting up and running back to my bag that now had an almost permanent place in the apartment.  

“Well, I’ll be at the museum today so no Jake randomly picking you up.” Steven said with a smile.  

I rolled my eyes; how could I be attached to two men so competitive for my attention.  Well technically three, but Marc was still hiding himself. I knew he came out when the boys weren’t around me, keeping himself distant.

I quickly slipped into the sunset dress I brought and turned in it a few times making the skirt ‘swish’ about. I nodded to myself, “Okay, this works.” I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled my heels on.

“Oh, bloody hell,” I looked up to see Steven standing in the door frame with his hand on his heart. “You have to warn me when you’re dressed like that darling.”

I giggled and got up grabbing my purse as I walked over to him. “Sorry, I kind of forgot I even had this dress until a few months ago.”

He pulled me to him and kissed me deeply. I smiled and kissed him back cupping his cheek. It was always hard to pull away from Steven and Jake, the soulmate bond having full effect almost.  

I hummed and pulled away. “If I miss this, my friend will kill me. I will see you both tonight.” I pecked his lips before stepping around him heading for the front door. “Love you, bye.” I shouted before stepping out and heading for the elevator.

~~~~~~~~~

Steven rolled his neck sighing as the bone cracked.  

“Why can't I go do my job?” Jake asked for the... well Steven didn’t quite know how many times Jake had asked that. Probably since Steven grabbed the spot in the archive room almost; he glanced at his watch, four hours ago. Thankfully it was still daylight out.

“Because this is my job and we agreed to alternate who does what.” Steven rubbed his eyes, the text in front of him blurring a little.

“At least we aren’t doing Marc’s job.” Jake grumbled.

“Screw both of you.” Marc spat out in the headspace.

Steven looked over at the glass display and could see Marc scowling. Which since you came into their lives has been the norm. He still hadn’t shown himself and even Steven was losing patience with it. He woke to find himself on the couch when he could have sworn up and down, he fell asleep with you wrapped around him.  

“Maybe if you just showed yourself to her Spector, you would feel a lot better.” Jake said, showing up in another glass display, mustache and all.  

“I don’t know what you think but I don’t deserve her affection.”  

Steven grounded his teeth. There were days where he wished he had the ability to put the walls between them back up, but Jake didn’t deserve that. “Obviously the universe, the Fates, whatever you believe, knew what would become of you and still believed you deserved a partner.” Steven snapped.

Almost a year of this. Of Marc’s self-deprecation. It was grating on everyone. Steven and Jake could both see it hurt you that Marc didn’t want to meet you. Even when you said it was fine and gave them a smile, they could see the pain.  

When Steven was met with only silence, he returned to the text he was working on and was able to focus once more.

~~~~~~~~~~

I traced random shapes on Jake’s chest as he snored softly. As my finger ran over a specific scar, his arm tightened around my waist before his eyelids fluttered. I looked up to meet molten brown eyes.  

“Mornin’ mi vida.”  

“Mornin’,” I leaned up and kissed his cheek. He smiled and ran his finger over my thread bracelet.

“Who gave this to you?” He messed with the moon charm. “Because I wonder if they had any idea of who you were connected with.”

I tried not to think too much about what Marc did at night for an Egyptian deity, usually just worried me. “My mother.” I watched as he twisted the charm.

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

I felt the burning start behind my eyes. “Believe me, I wish you could.” I sniffled and sat up.

“Mi vida?” I felt him pull me to his lap.

I took a shaky breath and wiped away tears. “She died, 15 years ago.” I looked at him to see him blink a few times. “I know it was so long ago and I shouldn’t be crying about it.” I looked down and curled in on myself.

He stroked my cheek. “What happened?”

I sniffled, “She was picking me up from a function or something, I can’t remember.” I could hear the music that had been playing. She had some Bruce Springsteen playing and I was laughing at her lip singing. I remembered the headlights... “We were hit by a drunk driver. The doctors said she died on impact, but that it was a miracle I survived.” I shook my head. “I haven’t felt lucky, and then after her death, my dad he...” I sighed.

“It’s okay, take your time mi amor.” Jake pressed a kiss to my temple and brushed my hair back. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

I nuzzled into his chest. “You never told me who was the uh,” I closed my eyes trying to remember the term. “The host was.”

He set his chin on the top of my head. “Marc is.”  

I ran one of my fingers along the vain running in his forearm. “Funny, he doesn’t want to meet me. Considering I was probably originally born to be his.”  

“Well, the time between the universes creation of you and you meeting us has been filled with roads of bullshit and death. He doesn’t believe he deserves you.” Jake rubbed circles along my bare thigh.  

I sighed, “I like cooking because I had to take care of myself for a while and it reminds me of my mom.” I moved to rest my head on his shoulder. “My dad, he lost himself when she died. He began to drink excessively. A man who hated liquor caused bottles to litter our home.”  

I felt Jake tense and realized I needed to keep going. “I came home from school one day and he passed out on the couch. I decided that for the moment, I needed to be an adult. I started with picking up all the empty bottles. I then took all but one vodka from the house to the bar down the block. And when I got home, I began to cook dinner.”

I remember that day, I had therapy and was home later than usual. “When he finally woke up, he went for the bottle of bourbon that had been on the table. When he couldn’t find it, he began to look for it. The whole time I sat at the island eating dinner and finishing my homework.”

The look in his eyes when he realized what I did.” I shook my head. “My father doesn’t scare me, but the look on his face that day.” I sighed. “I thought he was finally gonna break and blame me for my mom dying, I had been blaming myself. Hence the therapy.” I felt Jake slowly relax as I squeezed his hand. “But I guess something in my face told him, I wasn’t afraid of him even then. He cried a lot after my mom but after the tears were gone, he drank.”

“Whatever he saw in your face that night broke him again?” Jake asked.

I nodded. “He did and after that we went to family therapy, and he got better. After a few years of that, our therapist explained that losing his soulmate had broken a part of my father so much that she was surprised I was able to pull him back.” I sighed and moved so I could look at him. “And that is my tale of woe.”  

Jake stroked my cheek. “Aw mi sol.”

I sniffled and laid my hand over his. I closed my eyes and let the warmth of his hand spread from my cheek to the rest of my body.

When I felt his body tense again, it felt... different. “Marc?”

He huffed, “They were right, you are good at sensing that.” Midwestern accent, not what I was expecting.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. He had the same brown eyes, but I could see something else in them. Something I didn’t usually see in Steven or Jake. A sense of being lost, unfocused.  

“Why now?” I whispered. As he began to turn away, I cupped his jaw. “Marc, why now?” I repeated, a sternness in my voice.  

He gripped my wrist and for a moment, I worried he would shove me away. But his thumbs rubbed against my pulse points. “Because you don’t deserve to be in pain because I’m...” He sighed and kissed the inside of my palm. “I don’t feel deserving because of the things I did. Because someone told me for too long, I was a mistake. A monster.”  

I wanted to tell him that whoever said those things was a liar, but I also felt that once he told me who had been saying those things, I would understand why they still stuck so much with him.  

“Who made you believe those things baby?” I watched some of the tension in his shoulders vanish from the nickname.  

“My mother.” He looked at me and I caught the small crack in his armor. “I did a stupid thing as a kid, and I got my brother killed. She blamed me, took all her pain out on me.” He took a shaky breath. “It’s taken me a long time to realize, I couldn’t have known what would happen. I was a kid, I wanted to have fun.”  

“Is that what caused the break?” He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “First, I went to therapy for years. And second, I know the boys let you in on my fascination with psychology.”

He shook his head, “Right.” He took my left hand from his face and began to mess with the charms on my thread. “Yes, it was.”  

I nodded and moved to sit on my knees in front of him. He tilted his head and furrowed his brow. I smiled and held my hand out. “Hi, I’m F/N L/N. And I think I might be your beshert.”  

He chuckled and shook his head before shaking my hand. “Hi Y/N. I’m Marc Spector and I think you are right.”

I watched our hands shake and we both watched as the red thread slipped off my wrist.

----------------------------------

translation: 

Beshert: “destined” or “intended.” An event, set of circumstances, or situation can all be referred to as bashert, implying that whatever happens was orchestrated by G-d, who ultimately has out best interests in mind. 

In short, it’s the closest term in Hebrew/Yiddish to soulmates. Some Jews also see it as meaning “the right person, at the right time.” 

[behindtheireyes]

Harley stared out the front window of the trailer practically vibrating with excitement, there weren't many kids to play with in Forest Hills so the arrival of a boy about her age pretty much made her year. Before her mother had left she'd told Harley to not and go bug Mr. Munson before he left for work. The young girl kept her eyes glued to the clock on the microwave as she ate her soggy cereal waiting for the red numbers to flash at 7:30AM when she knew Mr. Munson would be getting ready to leave.

The trailer park had a lousy excuse of a playground but at least it was somewhere besides the front yard or driveway to play and the little girl really, REALLY, wanted to me the kid next store so they could play together. Maybe if he was nice and liked her she could talk to her Uncle Rick about him coming along on trips to the boathouse this summer. The more she thought about it the more excited she became at the prospect of having a new best friend, because Harley knew that she and the new kid would get along if just given a chance.

As soon as she saw the numbers turn to the right time Harley jumped up put her bowl in the sink and ran outside making sure that she had her key and that the front door was locked behind her. She only slowed down when she got to the bottom of Mr. Munson stairs to carefully walk up them and knock on the screen door, "Mr. Munson? It's Harley from next door!"

@edhellfire

[incorrectsibunaquotes]

Per request: Draft of Peddie fanfic from early April 2015 (I was about to turn 14)

The day started out just as awful as she thought it would be. Then, it ended completely different from what her imagination conjured.

Patricia was silent at the breakfast table that morning… Mostly, because she had no choice.

It had been a few days since Nina's “punishments” had gone into motion and making the club members' lives even more miserable than they already were.

Fabian kept leaning over to Mara to ask what time it was— there he went again, leaning over to ask,

“Um… excuse me… Marsy?… Do you have the time?”

“Marsy” looked kind of pissed off at the repeated question, and if Patricia could have made a teasing comment, she would have. But that just wasn't possible. She knew what she wanted to say, but by the time it reached her lips, the sound had already died away.

To make matters worse, the red-head had found enough courage to admit to Eddie— yes, that one— that she liked him back. But now he thought she was ignoring him!

It was a vicious cycle and Patricia was smart enough to know that if she didn't act soon, possibly her one and only chance at ever opening up to the headmaster's son would dissipate like the steam that currently rose from her teacup.

She felt a presence enter the dining room and she looked up to see the one and only Eddie Miller stalk into the room. His eyes locked with her's for longer than they really should have, and she felt her heart sink when she noticed that his gaze held was affectionless, platonic or otherwise.

She silently willed him with her eyes to understand that if she could speak, she would tell him what was really going on in her head, but he clearly didn't get the message as he pulled out the chair with a little forceful shriek of wood on wood emanating from the chair legs hitting the floor.

Patricia sighed, and lowered her head to concentrate on her cornflakes. She felt Nina put her hand on her shoulder apologetically. Before looking up, Patricia gave a brisk nod of her head, and Nina let go.

Maybe it was some bigger force— more than just a creepy-ass ghost with a bone to pick with Amneris's descendant— trying to tell her it was supposed to be this way: That she wasn't ever supposed to be with Eddie, and that she should continue to rebuff his attempts to break her wall of hostility.

She took a large bite of her cornflakes, grinding her teeth down onto the cereal until it was a soggy mess in her mouth. She swallowed and it slid down her throat uncomfortably, landing in her stomach with a sickening splash.

Patricia grimaced and honed in on Amber and Alfie's conversation, just for a little laugh to make her feel better and restore some of her appetite.

“… and put that down,” Amber growled, trying to snatch a butter knife away from Alfie. He had been licking it all over, and was now attempting to stick it up his nose.

Alfie's eyes widened with disbelief at Amber. Then he began to cry.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIENNNNNNNNNND!” the little boy that had pretty much taken over Alfie wailed, throwing the knife at Amber, who ducked, as the silverware clattered to the ground wear the divder met the floor. She stood up forcefully and gave Alfie a long challenging stare before realizing she looked garish and sat back down with a tiny thump.

The entire room was silent.

Nina had her face in her hands; Joy looked dumbfounded; Fabian looked confused (no surprise there); Amber had a sheepish expression all across her face; Mara and Eddie both wore the same expression of surprise; Trudy, who was standing in the kitchen, was flabbergasted; Jerome, of course, began to laugh.

“I knew Alfie was childish, but this is ridiculous!” he chuckled, standing up.

He held out his arm to Mara, who looked up at him in shock Alfie's outburst, and said flirtatiously, “My lady.”

She blinked, then rolled her eyes, taking his arm. Patricia wondered briefly if Mara was really so oblivious to the fact Jerome was fawning over her, or if she just didn't want to embarass him by saying she wasn't interested. After all, it had taken her all of last year to hold onto Mick, and, in Patricia's opinion, Mara would be a fool to take Jerome as her boyfriend. The hexed girl could only imagine the terrible things that could possibly happen if Mara dated Jerome— though none could be as worse as Sibuna's current condition.

After the flirt and his victim left for school, everyone else began dispersing too. As Patricia walked past, Nina whispered to her in a choked, small voice, “Free period. Drama Room. Sibuna.”

Then she was out the door, followed by Amber, who pulled Fabian along like a dog on a leash.

“Where are we going again?” Patricia heard as Fabian's voice was muffled by the old walls of the house.

“School, Fabian. School,” was Amber's reply. She sounded worn out, as if Alfie's knife throwing had taken all the life out of her.

Trudy pulled Alfie aside to speak to him for a moment, and that was Patricia's que to get up

[zooone]

about gr! wilbur...

i know these headcanons werent in the list but...

milk or cereal first what does he do

what if: buff girlfriend who is half his height but can pick him up and carry him wherever they want

he puts the milk first because "if the cereal goes first itll get soggy" or he puts the milk first and then microwaves it cuz he has little sensitive boy teeth (he is a loser.)

also yes. oh my god yes . shes picking him up bridal style and hes so scared she'll drop him and hes all "PUT ME DOWN PUT ME DOWN"

[live-laugh-loverpool]

The Supernaturals: Željko Buvač

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234, @rubybecker-rb2, @moomin279

He could vanish into thin air.

Željko Buvač had always been quiet for his age. Ever since he was little, he would walk into rooms and nobody would notice him, leaving him free to soak up all the things the world offered to him. Just like the sponge in the kitchen (which he'd learned at five was an animal from the sea), or cereal in his bowl (which, at eight, he'd figured out got soggy because of all the holes in it, ready to drink HIS milk). It wasn't just given facts that he could remember; young Željko could deduce things easily from very little given information.

His intellect only increased as he grew up, and at recess he preferred curling up in a corner with a textbook to running around outside with the other kids. Sometimes they would confront Željko, surrounding him and pleading with him to go outside. It quickly escalated from pleading to outright bullying, and the bullies would disappear once any adults or older kids came by.

One day, their deadly stares and even deadlier garlic breath had driven Željko to the end of his rope. He'd pressed himself against the wall, wishing he could disappear just like the bullies.

He hadn't known it at first, because he could still see his fingers and the other boys. It was only when Željko was dragged to the principal's office by a pale and swearing teacher that he found out his wish had come true. He'd disappeared in front of the bullies' eyes, his book still suspended in the air. Two of them had passed out after running away from him, and one of them had called a priest, apparently to "exorcize his demons". The priest said every prayer in the Bible, but nothing could bring Željko back to normal.

He'd been twelve then, and from then on nothing was ever the same. Every one of his peers avoided him, and most of them called Željko a sorcerer and all other kinds of names. That hurt him really badly.

To take his mind off his misfortunes, Željko, now known by his last name, focused on football. He played for a couple of clubs in Yugoslavia before moving to Germany. A year after he'd come to Germany, Buvač decided to play for Mainz. He would be their newest attacking midfielder.

It was there that he met Klopp. Just two years younger than him, Buvač's new teammate was outgoing, tender, passionate and definitely hadn't been called a demon or sorcerer before. They bonded quickly, and their friendship was strong.

To Buvač, Klopp was the younger brother he'd never had. Buvač gained a trust in him that he'd never had in any other one of his peers. They were two parts of a whole, yin and yang. They'd explored their powers profoundly, and Buvač had learned the limits of his power. He disappeared whenever his confidence or self-worth did, although the invisibility could be triggered purposefully. They even maintained contact when Buvač left Mainz for another club.

After he hung up his boots, Buvač spent three years coaching before he joined Klopp as assistant manager. He was the brain, and Klopp was the heart. Probably as well, since Buvač was better at tactics and statistics while Klopp excelled at pep talks and team bonding. They did wonders together, bringing Mainz to the Bundesliga before moving to Borussia Dortmund. They won two Bundesliga titles together and even got Dortmund to a Champions’ League final, where they were edged by arguably the best team in all of Germany, Bavaria Munchen.

Buvač and Klopp had become such a dynamic duo by then, it was no surprise that Liverpool asked both of them to become part of their managing staff. Taking along Pete "The Eye" Krawietz, Buvač instantly fell in love with the club. While Klopp understandably got most of the attention with his charismatic smile and witty one-liners, Buvač received a considerable amount of press for his tactics and role in Klopp's staff team.

In 2018, Buvač left Liverpool without Klopp. It wasn't a giant bust-up or anything like every newspaper in England suggested--Buvač simply wished to try his hand at something different. He got bored easily, and while Klopp was sad to see him go, the two wished each other luck.

Buvač spent two years on sabbatical in Bosnia, living on his own. He built a house out of stone on a mountain cliff, thinking that nature would help him shake the sinking feeling that had possessed him every day. For somebody that wasn't his family, Buvač missed not seeing Klopp every day of his life--even though the German could annoy him sometimes. Buvač found work as a sporting director in Russia just a month before lockdown.

Lockdown would've been long and lonely, had he and Klopp not met up once per week in secret. More often than not, Klopp remarked that he couldn't see Buvač on his screen. He'd turned invisible again, and Buvač wouldn't even notice since his invisibility didn't affect the way he could move objects or see his own body.

The only other thing keeping Buvač from slipping into depression was his job. But when Russia invaded Ukraine and all Russian sports were suspended, that was gone as well. Even though he'd extended his contract, Buvač didn't know when he would actually have sports to direct.

Now he was invisible more than he wasn't. He didn't bother to wear his glass and quartz supernatural restriction bracelet, because he was alone most of the time anyways.

He was invisible, thanks to the supernatural goddess Astra. And while it made for some awkward conversations with the mailman, at least it prevented Buvač from having to see himself being alone in the mirror.

[limoteethw]

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I would have given up if not for thatKoa Eldredge Hooded Shirt. I just explored for sometime theKoa Eldredge Hooded Shirt in the days before social media and found an Asia regionals happened in Dhaka, Bangladesh. I just found out the organiser’s number and called him out of the blue [when it cost over $1/min for the international call from a public booth and I had very little money]. I convinced him to take our team from India. I went through all the rules and he could not find any hole in my argument. He was more amused by the strange request from a teenager from abroad and okayed my proposal.

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Simply look at Steve Jobs, the guy who ran Apple so well. He was a Cincinnati Reds MLB Hawaiian Shirt Warm Season Aloha Shirt believer in “natural” medicine, in fact he wouldn’t bathe since he felt this somehow or other weakened him but his fellow workers had lots of problems with this. He developed Pancreatic Cancer nothing may have done him any good but from the little that I’ve found on his case he may have had a rare case, like Ruth Bader Ginsberg, where prompt surgery may have saved him. He wanted to try some “natural treatments” first, he did, and you know how that turned out. Just because you know a lot about a lot of things don not assume that you know everything about everything. He was in many ways a brilliant man in most areas but not in the treatment of pancreatic cancer. The worst part is he got a liver transplant later on when he decided to try regular medicine, something that might have saved someone who really needed it. So sad.

Home Page: Limotees

Buy It Now:Koa Eldredge Hooded Shirt

The Soggy Bottom Boys 1937 Mississippi Tour Vintage shirt

Luis Arráez Miami Marlins 200 Season Hits Shirt

SUICIDE AWARENESS Classic T Shirt

Official cereal Killer Shirt

Official Trea Turner Los Angeles Dodgers T Shirt

Simply look at Steve Jobs, the guy who ran Apple so well. He was a Cincinnati Reds MLB Hawaiian Shirt Warm Season Aloha Shirt believer in “natural” medicine, in fact he wouldn’t bathe since he felt this somehow or other weakened him but his fellow workers had lots of problems with this. He developed Pancreatic Cancer nothing may have done him any good but from the little that I’ve found on his case he may have had a rare case, like Ruth Bader Ginsberg, where prompt surgery may have saved him. He wanted to try some “natural treatments” first, he did, and you know how that turned out. Just because you know a lot about a lot of things don not assume that you know everything about everything. He was in many ways a brilliant man in most areas but not in the treatment of pancreatic cancer. The worst part is he got a liver transplant later on when he decided to try regular medicine, something that might have saved someone who really needed it. So sad.

Home Page: Limotees