#man I should have talked about my anxiety camper!!!!

[raycatz]

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

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

o|<

[meditating-honey-badger]

Chapter: 1/1 | Word Count: 9255 | Rating: Teen and Up | Warnings/Tags: Summer Camp AU, Ridiculous Flirting, Light Angst, References to Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use

This is fic is part of the @tarlosweeklyprompts March Word of the Day Prompts. SInce it is my last fic in that series, I have managed to fit in every word from March 11 through March 31.

March 11: Hate | March 12: Cold | March 13: Sun | March 14: Camp | March 15: Tasty | March 16: Watching | March 17: Needy | March 18: Secure | March 19: Sour | March 20: Fond | March 21: Letter | March 22: Apology | March 23: Partner | March 24: Anxiety | March 25: Path | March 26: Home | March 27: Family | March 28: Worry | March 29: Chaos | March 30: Midnight | March 31: Wedding

Under the Midnight Moon

It had been raining for three days at the ironically named Camp Sunny Day, and TK was miserable. The campers had arrived on a gray, drizzly Sunday and spent their first three days of camp sitting around in the rec hall or their cabins playing endless board games and getting up to trouble. Who could blame them? TK was so bored he was itching to raise hell himself. This was not what he signed up for when he’d taken the job of camp counselor.

In fact, one reason TK’s mother had pushed him to apply for the camp counselor job was to keep him out of trouble. The other reason was so that he could keep an eye on his little brother Jonah, who Gwyn had reluctantly agreed to let go. His mother had no reason to worry. First, because they were all trapped in close quarters with no privacy. Second, because of TK’s stick-in-the-mud, by the book co-counselor, Carlos. 

Any time TK even hinted about finding creative ways to have fun, Carlos gave him a withering look and shook his head. “Did you even read the counselor manual, TK?” he’d ask. 

The answer to that was no, of course, but Carlos didn’t need to point it out. 

He should have known the entire summer would be a bust when his now ex-boyfriend, who was supposed to be his co-counselor, broke up with him and jetted off to Europe with his new boyfriend. Although new boyfriend was a stretch — apparently Alex had been cheating on TK since winter break. Instead of spending the summer looking at Alex in an adorable counselor uniform, or better yet, his bathing suit, TK was stuck in a rainy, miserable hell with eight 7-year-old boys and the most boring man on the planet. 

At least Carlos was nice to look at, but even that seemed like a cruel joke. 

TK tried to get to know his co-counselor but every time he tried to make small talk, Carlos gave him one-word answers. He’d been stuck in a cabin with the man for three days and all he knew was that Carlos was from Texas and he had just finished his sophomore year at NYU, where he was a double major in Latin American Studies and Public Policy. TK couldn’t help but wonder if Carlos’s reticence had anything to do with the pride t-shirt TK had worn the first day or the rainbow bracelet he wore all the time. Carlos was from Texas, after all.

After breaking up another fight over alleged cheating in Monopoly Jr, TK looked at Carlos and said, “I can’t take it anymore. We have to find a new game or something. I’m going to head over to the rec hall and see what else they have collecting dust on the shelves.”

“We should all go over to the rec center, if you’re going. I’m not supposed to be in charge of more than four kids at one time.”

TK rolled his eyes. “Listen man, I need just a few minutes alone, ok? I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. If you want to take a break after I get back, I’m totally cool with that.”

“All right,” Carlos said reluctantly, “you can go, but please hurry.”

"Can you chill? It won't take very long and hopefully I'll come back with something new to keep these kids occupied."

Carlos pressed his lips together and said nothing as TK walked out of the cabin.

Finish Reading on AO3

[artzychic27]

Camp camp quotes pls

Ismael: *As Adrien picks him up* You are the bane of my existence.

—

Adrien: Hang on a sec, what are you even doing out here?

Ismael: Well, it's definitely not because the bus only comes in from the city to drop off and pick up campers And so far seems to be my only reasonable method of escaping this fucking nightmare of a camp. Definitely not that.

Adrien: Heeeeyy... language.

—

Adrien: Gooood morning, Marinette!

Marinette: Motherfucker!

Denise: *Tied to the ceiling fan blades and spinning around* Crank it to high, I can take the G's!

Marinette: Kim, you don't crank shit! Get down from there, Denise!

—

Adrien: Here at Camp Damocles, we pride ourselves on the variety of our curriculum.

Marinette: There's Extreme Sports Camp. *Lacey becomes tangled in the faulting climbing gear* Fashion Camp. *Reshma sucks on her finger when the outdated sewing machine pricks her* Space Camp. *Denise and Max are glaring at the outdated solar system model featuring Pluto* Theatre Camp. *Myléne and Jean have tomatoes thrown at them* Art Camp.

Nathaniel: *Painting a German Shepherd* It's a dog!

Marinette: Music camp. *Juleka gets electrocuted by the faulty wiring* And lots more. Lots of stuff.

Max: How much more stuff?

Adrien: Well I'm glad you asked because I have a little song that I can sing- *Is about to pull out a guitar*

Marinette: No!

Adrien: When Marinette’s not around.

—

Alix: This is bullshit!

Ismael: Woah, check out the balls on new kid.

Cosette: *Looks down* Where?

—

Marinette: Oh God it's coming back, the crippling anxiety and regret!

Adrien: Uh, Marinette!?

—

Adrien: Well, I think we all learned a valuable lesson today.

Nathaniel: Don't ever work together!

—

Ismael: He can't be real! Oh God, I'm gonna crack and live the rest of my life as a Wood Scout!

Kim: Actually, we've been talking about this. Cuz yeah, we exist. And we decided that I am the best camper.

Luka: Hold up. I thought we agreed that I was the best camper. I'm the COOLEST.

Marc: But I'm the most creative!

Reshma: No, I'M the most creative!

Rose: Yet I'm the most adorable!

Jean: And I'M the only one who seems to be taking this theater performance SERIOUSLY!

—

Austin A: It's why we ran him out in the first place.

Jean: You RAN him out?

Austin A: Of course! It was for his own good! He's just so... Feminine and stuff. He likes baking, shopping, and exercising in order to sculpt the perfect body image.

Austin Q: It's like if a girl came in here and tried to do what we do.

Jean: Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on! The hell's that supposed to mean?

—

Ismael: *After just flinging the camp mascot to the next island with a huge rock instead of hitting Adrien* Aw, man…That was supposed to kill you.

—

Marc: Lady-sickness. My moms used to get that all the time.

Simon: How do you cure it?

Marc: Edge closer to death… YAY! MASCOT HUNT!

—

Kim: Does this mean we’ll be the Camp Damocles Platties?!

Adrien: No, I don’t think so.

Simon: …What about the pussies?

Adrien: Definitely not!

Sabrina: Yeah, I like that!

Juleka: Pussies for life.

Campers: *Chanting “Pussies” while Adrien just gives up in trying to stop them*

Nathaniel: I’ll make the flag!

—

Zoé: That was super gay.

Jean: We JUST learned a lesson about stereotyping!

—

Ismael: This sucks…This is the kind of peasant work my parents left their home country to avoid

—

Ismael: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the hell up! Did you nerds forget who revolutionized this place?! I should be leading you! Not "x-treme sports barbie” over here! *Points to Lacey*

—

Adrien: You guys are here to rescue me?!

Alix: No! Shut up Adrien!

Adrien: Aw…

—

Nino: Wh-what do you think about that moaning and wailing?

Aurore: Pssh, it’s just teenagers from that church camp working on those repressions again. Not that I know anything about it, just being a kid and all.

—

Nathaniel: Thank you, Mr. Adrien. Under my rule, *Raises his paintbrush in the air* I WILL MAKE CAMP DAMOCLES GREAT AGAIN! *Thunder and lightning*

Adrien: *Thinking* …This is probably fine

—

Cosette: WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MAX, KIM? SHOVE HIM IN A LOCKER? MAKE HIM PROM QUEEN, ONLY TO COVER HIM IN BLOOD?!

—

Adrien: You see, I feel that letting the campers take over gives them a sense of pride and purpose, that you just don't get with those other 'traditional' camps. I've... *Nathaniel taps him on the shoulder* Oh, uh, yes Nathaniel? How can I help YOU?

Nathaniel: Where are your papers?

Adrien: … Uh, I'm not quite sure what you mean.

Nathaniel: Your papers, where are they?

Adrien: *Sweating*

Nathaniel: It's a very simple question, Adrien. You are only hurting yourself by lying.

Adrien: … *Noticies the construction paper in Nathaniel’s hand* Oh… Oh, you want more construction paper!

Nathaniel: Yeah, what did you think I meant? I'm not some sort of secret police or something.

—

Nathaniel: Someone is hiding from art’s divine presence?! Unacceptable! We shall make an example of him! Let the hunt begin! *Thunder and lightning*

Adrien: … This is still fine.

—

Isnael: Yo, did someone say black magic?”

Myléne: *Facepalming*

Jean: Amateurs!

—

Jean: I don’t know who this BITCH is, but she is KILLING IT! AH!

—

Jean: The theater! The cruelest mistress of all! My career! Like the mistakes of so many teenage girls, has been aborted.

—

Ismael: The United States moon landings were a hoax filmed in Area 51 orchestrated by the government as a publicity stunt designed to humiliate the Russians in the space race!”

Denise: Noooooo! No! I can’t hear you! I can’t hear you! I can’t hear you!

—

Adrien: Today’s the day I get hard!

Marinette: Okay, maybe we don’t phrase it like that…

Adrien: Oh no! Rule 1: no backing down! Look out, world! I’m hard and I’m coming! Whether he likes it or not, Ivan is gonna let me in! *Badass kicks the door open* Ow.

Ismael: …So does he want to help Ivan or fuck him?

—

Nino: Well, I guess it turns out at the end of the day…sometimes you just gotta hit kids.

—

Max: YOU SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH, JEAN!

—

Nino: Yo, Adrien! I think I speak for all of us when I say that I don’t wanna become some fascist military peon!

Nathaniel: *Raising his hand* He does not speak for all of us.

—

Rose: Marinette, why is Adrien dressed like a turkey?

Marinette. Because he’s fucking Adrien, Rose, you’ve been here long enough to figure that out.

—

Kim: Tell us now, turkey man!

—

Max: Adrien. Witness me. Witness my love for nature! *Tries kissing the platypus but it bites him on the lips instead* Ow! You whore! Let me love you, goddamn it!

—

Alya: Wake up, buttercup! *Fires an arrow*

Marinette: Alya! No more arrows!

Alya: You can’t control me, white devil!

—

Adrien: Yes, Ismael?

Ismael: *Points at Félix* Who the fuck is that?

Adrien: Why, what an excellent question!

—

Adrien: Again with these cult jokes, Ismael? Please.

Simon: He gave everyone a "de-toxification” diet then started spouting off Latin from a book with a pentagram!

Adrien: He’s bilingual and cares about nutrition?!

Reshma: *Sweetly* Hey, Adrien?

Adrien: Yes, Reshma?

Reshma: WAKE UP AND SMELL THE KOOL-AID!

—

Nathaniel: … I would just like to point out the fucked-up implications of specifically YOU *points at Lila* putting specifically ME *points at himself* into a gas chamber!

—

Alya: Chloé, leave me alone, or so help me, I will post photoshops everywhere of you kissing girls!

Chloé: Woah! Hey, somebody’s a little tense. You might want to look into some agression therapy. Besides, maybe I already tried to explore my sexuality…you don’t know… Kagami, why did you leave me?

—

Alix: It’s a chat bot.

Nino: What do you mean?

Alix: I mean, it’s a programmed, repetitive, humorless, inhuman, simulation of a person.”

Nino: … Yeah, Max.

—

Markov: Calculations complete. My analysis is…absolutely fucking not! You humans all suck!

—

Ismael: So what you're telling us is you basically failed at everything. And then you wasted our time with this boring, dumbass story.

—

Lacey: You never used to try to be cool for other people before. You were so confident that you didn't even think about other people! You're just you! And that was cool.

Kim: … So you don’t think this’ll make me cooler?

[4x4girl]

I don’t know what the right thing to do is anymore… he doesn’t seem to care enough about me to change.. even though I’ve pleaded with him to do SOMETHING. Anything! But he just doesn’t care.. I’m torn on trying to make things work, try couples counseling.. but a little over a year in and it shouldn’t be this way.. should it? Aren’t we supposed to be in the honeymoon stage still? It’s felt so long since he treated me like when we first started dating. The caring doting bf. I never stopped being the caring doting gf.. but I can’t even get a happy birthday on my birthday let alone a card or even a small gift to let me know he was thinking of me. No valentines anything. In fact I had planned a date to a adult arcade where they serve beer and cider. He likes video games… I do not but I can handle an evening of playing frogger and trying to connect with him over something he likes.. but last night he came at me and belittled my accomplishments I’ve been proud of up until he basically called me a liar. I work hard to support myself and not need a man. I still feel that’s how I am.. I still am completely capable of doing things without a man to help me. That’s how it’s always been.. me against the world. And I feel that’s the case again. My only friends I talk to on a regular basis live on the other side of the country. I was going to therapy to try and find ways to cope/ make things work. But my job fucked me over and now I have no health insurance and $100 out of pocket every time is out of my budget. So I feel like I have no one to talk to. I don’t wanna type out my life story either. I just want someone to hear me and understand what I’m going through and how hard I’ve been trying. I’m exhausted and just broken feeling. I’m saving money as much as I can so I can afford to get a camper and live in that. But until then I’m basically stuck. I want to leave and go back to Montana more then anything. I dream of it every day. Literally.. I miss being on my own and living my life as much as I can. Right now, I’m not living at all. My depression and anxiety has me beyond frazzled and overwhelmed. I just want to curl up in a ball and cry and sleep and snuggle my dogs. Even snuggling with my dogs has changed. They’re rarely allowed on the bed, and when they are well Addie doesn’t snuggle normally. But montana is all about the bf. He’ll go to me sometimes but more often he goes to him. Which I don’t understand. I miss taking my dogs on spontaneous adventures. We can’t do spontaneous.. he doesn’t like it. Either way.. I’m unhappy. And I feel myself getting lost.. I’m terrified of that. So I’m holding on as tight as I can to what little happiness I have. Hoping I can make it to being happy again.. some way some how😔

This was a vent post.

[skullrock]

the campers, chapter two - Steve x Reader

gif by @harringtown

chapter two: the trainee 

series summary:Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: Steve gets in the swing of things quickly, much to your dismay.

warnings: swearing!

word count: 2.7k

a/n: you can catch up on the series here! hope you enjoy this chapter!

===

Dustin and Steve are luckily paired into the same cabin, but they have different rooms. Steve’s roommate isn’t in when he goes to drop off his things, but Dustin assures that the man, Nico, is a cool dude.

“Not as cool as you though, Steve,” Dustin says, giving him a firm pat on the back. Steve smiles slightly and nods, appreciating the sentiment. Especially after being blasted by you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up with you and Y/N?”

“No,” Steve says curtly, shutting and locking his room.

Dustin waits a few moments to see if Steve will fess up, but he doesn’t. Actually, Steve sets his jaw tightly, making Dustin even more curious. “I guess you guys don’t like each other, huh?”

“No,” Steve says again. He runs a hand through his hair. “Well - she doesn’t like me.”

“She knew you as Asshole Steve?”

Steve sighs heavily. “Yeah. She knew me as Asshole Steve.”

Dustin shrugs as they start to make their way to their orientations. “You’ll just have to show her how you changed, that’s all.”

Steve scoffs and shakes his head. “It doesn’t even matter.”

Dustin knows he doesn’t mean that, but he stops prodding for answers.

They continue their walk down from the cabins to the activity center, filled with classrooms, the cafeteria, and research labs. Steve enjoys the area already, happy to see the sun glistening off of the lake and the large hemlocks and oaks. The wind smells like pine and juniper, even in the summer, relaxing Steve’s mind. The woods do scare him now, there’s no denying that. But these aren’t the sinister woods behind his house in Hawkins. These woods are welcoming and cheery, bright and charming. Steve loves the open fields for archery and tag, the courts for basketball and tennis. He decides he’d really like to help out with the intramurals, giving up on the science aspect before even getting the chance to explore it.

Steve’s train of thought is derailed when he hears a sweet voice call out, “Dusty-bun?”

Dustin turns on his heel, a smile spreading widely across his face. He runs to meet her halfway, picking her up and twirling her. The girl laughs happily, and they kiss for a moment before Steve clears his throat. “Is this Suzie?”

“It’s Suzie,” Dustin says, sighly happily. “Suzie, this is Steve.”

She extends her hand and Steve takes it, surprised by how firm her grip is. She’s alright, Steve thinks. She’s got this Mormon vibe going on, but her smile is bright and her personality is welcoming. Steve’s happy to find out that Suzie is an actual person, and while she has no Phoebe Cates in her at all, she’s a perfect match for Dustin.

Steve third wheels as they continue to walk towards the activity center, again being pulled back to his thoughts. His mind falls on what you’d said earlier.

It feels like a rock sits in his gut when he thinks about camp when he was younger. He knows he was an asshole, he can feel it in his bones. He knows he hung out with Tommy H. and some other dickheads, and he has glimpses of memories of tripping, pushing, and pranking. But he really doesn’t remember a lot. He’s not sure if he’s from the concussions or because he willed those thoughts out of his memory - but they aren’t there. Only insignificant ones remain. Like how his bedsheets in his cabin were blue and red plaid; how he would wake up at 7:15 to take a walk before Tommy would wake up; he even remembers the bitter taste of the orange juice hitting his tongue at breakfast. It’s like his mind zeroed in on the insignificant things so that the hurtful memories stay in the back of his mind, sitting like a cobra, waiting to strike.

The trio arrives at the activity center.

“I’ll see you tonight, Steve,” Dustin says. “Don’t worry - you’ll do great.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve mumbles, anxiety twisting in his gut. “Nice to meet you, Suzie.”

She smiles brightly and starts off, but Dustin stays behind. “Hotter than Phoebe Cates, right?”

Steve forces a smile and nods, giving him a thumbs up. “You really did it, man.”

Dustin winks and walks away, leaving Steve alone and sweating bullets. He hates being alone - he can’t stand being by himself anymore. Especially now that he knows you’re on the loose here, probably plotting some sick pranks. But he forces himself to move his feet up to the orientation check in.

“Name?” a man with the nametag Josh asks.

“Uh, It’s Steve. Harrington.”

He gets his bundle - a nametag, a hat just like Dustin’s, a few lime green and yellow Camp Know Where shirts (reading LEADER on the back), a drawstring bag, some pens, and a notebook. Steve forces himself to not make a face at the shirt - it’s disgusting and it will certainly ruin his chances with the ladies. He’ll wear it - he’s just not happy about it. And, besides, the first girl he interacted with at camp nearly bit his head off, so maybe he shouldn’t be so worried about his chances. Maybe he should be worried about not fucking up this time.

He takes a seat in one of the large lecture halls, sitting as far away from everyone as possible. Nearly everyone who walks in waves at him and sits close, making Steve clench his fists and bounce his legs. He literally does not remember how to be social - it’s like a second language that he forgot. It pains him that he can’t strike up conversations like he used to, but those around him help.

“Hi, I’m Kara,” a girl his age says, sitting down right next to him. “Who are you?”

Steve blinks. “Oh - I’m Steve.”

She reaches out and shakes his hand, smiling. “You’re new, right?”

“Is it that easy to tell?”

Kara laughs. “Don’t worry, Steve - you’ll get the hang of the flow soon enough.”

Okay, maybe he does have a chance with some ladies.

You come into the room, eyes searching for Steve. You see your buddy Kara talking to him and you curse under your breath. She’s not supposed to be friends with him - she’s probably going to try to bone him in the next week, too, and you don’t want that either. You march up to Josh, the leader of leaders, and pull him down to your level. “You cannot - you will not - pair me with Steve Harrington.”

Josh’s brows furrow and he looks up at Steve, remembering him from earlier. “What, you scared of that dork?”

You groan and roll your eyes. “He was such an asshole to me - we used to go to camp together. He made my summers hell, Josh. I can’t be around him.”

Josh pauses and shrugs. “Okay, no problem, I’ll pair him with someone else.”

You sigh in relief and take a seat at the front, where a panel of veteran counselors sit. You try to be social, but the bile keeps rising from your stomach to your throat. You feel sick. You feel like this summer is going to be an absolute nightmare. And while you’re so far beyond who you used to be - that kid who couldn’t even look people in the eye - you’re scared that his presence will revert you back into that little girl. And it’s the last thing you want.

Josh claps his hands a while later, signalling the start of orientation. Steve shifts in his seat and pulls out his notebook and a pen. He doesn’t know shit about note taking, but he reckons he should try. You grab your notebook too, excited to learn and meet with the new folks.

“Welcome to Camp Know Where!” Josh says.

The room erupts in cheers and Steve can feel his old self creeping back in, the insult of dorks running through his head - as if he isn’t clearly one himself. But he composes himself, clapping lightly along with everyone else.

“Here at Camp Know Where, we want to create a welcoming, safe environment for our kids to explore the world through science, math, engineering, and technology.” Steve writes it down quickly, forming the acronym “SMET”, and giggling to himself.

“It’s our job as counselors to facilitate learning in a fun, positive, and energetic way. Through orientation, you’re going to meet your fellow counselors, learn some things, and find a designation at camp. We work with you! If you think you’d be better at doing science, we’ll help you find your place in the classroom. But if you’d like to work with intramurals, we can place you out in nature. However, we still want to make sure everyone has a good grasp at all activities, so you’ll be cycled through everything we have to offer at Camp Know Where.”

Steve writes down “science - intramurals - whatever - know it all.”

“Today, though, we’ll be doing some icebreakers, and then some brainstorming.”

The room erupts in groans, Steve’s perhaps being the loudest.

“Relax, they’re fun.” Josh beams and holds up a clipboard. “I’m going to split everyone off with a partner now. This will be your partner all through camp. You’ll do something with everyone, but your partner is like your mentor. The newer folks will be paired with someone who’s been here a while to help you get in the swing of things.”

You shift in your seat. Maybe you’ll make a new friend - maybe you’ll get along famously - it was an exciting concept.

Or, it is, until Josh calls out, “Y/N and Steve.”

The shit eating grin on his face is unimaginable. He looks down at you, smiling, eyes shining, as if to say, get over it. If you had a bat, you would have hit him with it. Your stomach sinks, it rolls, it twists. Your palms sweat, your head races, but it stays forward, eyes trained on the podium in front of you.

Steve feels the exact same, except his legs are telling him to get the hell out of there. He knows his protests will fall on deaf ears, and who would accommodate him, anyway? He rests his head in his hands as Josh continues to read off names.

“Alright, get with your partner. We’re going to play two truths and a lie!”

Phenomenal, you think. The worst icebreaker of all time, and it’s with Steve Harrington.

You push yourself up out of your seat and force your legs to move towards him, sitting down next to him but a chair away, keeping a distance. Steve’s okay with it - it actually helps him breathe.

The rest of the room fills with laughs and chatter, but you both stare in silence for a long while. Finally, Steve says, “So -”

“We aren’t friends,” you interrupt. “We aren’t friends now, we weren’t friends then, and in the future, we won’t be friends. Got it?”

Steve swallows hard and nods. Despite the dryness in his throat, he tries to apologize. “Look, I know I wasn’t nice when he were kids -”

You scoff. He continues. “But I swear to God, or whatever, I’ve changed. I’m not like that anymore. I - I don’t even hang out with Tommy. I just hang out with Dustin and this girl called Robin, you don’t know her - she’s pretty cool -”

“Save it,” you say harshly. “We can talk since it’s our job, but I don’t care about your life now, and I know you don’t care about mine.”

No icebreakers are played between you - the only thing played is an intense staring contest, which makes you angry and Steve horrified. Finally, Josh claps again, and then the real orientation begins. Josh hands out papers with scenarios on them, the goal being to brainstorm ways to demonstrate good leadership. Things like, a camper is obviously intoxicated - what do you do? and what’s the best way to improve a camper who isn’t doing well?

“Wait,” Steve says as Josh places the paper down. “Are we sw- switching partners?”

“Nope!” Josh says, popping the ‘p’. “Not yet.”

Steve wants to die.

To your surprise, Steve has some pretty phenomenal ideas for how to be a good leader. He even delves into how he would bond with the campers - he’d play sports with them, facilitate idea generating, become someone they can come to and confide in. He wouldn’t shut down their ideas, but rather help them expand on them. You think that he actually has some really good concepts.

“I just want them to trust me, you know?” he says quietly. “I want them to feel like they have a chance and that they can come to me for anything.”

You furrow your brows. “How’d you get these good ideas?”

“Dustin,” he admits, a bit sheepishly. “And some of his friends, too. They’ve helped me understand how to be better at listening and helping and understanding.”

You nod stiffly, not wanting to become too impressed with him. “Well, you have some solid ideas.”

Steve’s eyes widen and brighten. “You think?”

You shrug. “They’re not bad.”

And just like that, Steve feels like he has a purpose.

The room forms back together to go over their responses, and for the first time in his life, Steve offers his perspective in a public setting without being condescending or rude. The feeling of raising his hand was awkward and unknown, but he kept doing it, in love with the nods of support from the other counselors. Someone said he must have a knack for being a leader, and Steve beamed brighter than he had in months.

You, of course, hated it, but you had no authority to tell him to shut up. To you, it seemed fake and, frankly, out of nowhere. But you couldn’t help to agree with some of his points and ideas. You hated it.

You all break for the day at five. You practically run out of the room, gasping in the fresh air outside quickly. Josh walks past you and slaps your back, turning around to smile at you. “Have fun?”

“I will kill you.”

“Can’t wait!”

You’d lost your appetite after the hours spent with Steve, so you stay outside, sitting on a picnic bench and contemplating. You wonder if Steve is right when he says he’s changed. Past Steve would never say such things, would never even bother to put in an effort. But he was giving more of an effort than most people in that room, and it genuinely shocked you. Maybe Dustin had something to do with it - but that seemed improbable, too. The whole thing was so bizarre that it made your head spin and your knees weak.

You see Dustin heading inside and call out for him, beckoning him over. His brows furrow tightly but he walks over, sitting down across from you. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“What’s Steve’s deal?”

“Look, I hated him too,” Dustin says. “I mean, I really hated him. Like, I wanted to punch him -”

“I get it.”

“Right. But he’s changed. He got sober really fast a few years back and he hasn’t been the same since.” Dustin pauses, choosing his words carefully. “A lot of stuff has happened to him… and I think it’s changed him for the better. He’s been through a lot. He’s just trying to find himself now. That’s why he’s here.”

You sigh heavily. “You think he’s better?”

“I know he’s better.” Dustin smiles. “And that’s why I think you should give him a chance.”

“No way,” you scoff. “He never gave me a chance.”

“Shouldn’t stoop to past Steve’s level.” Dustin’s smile widens. “You’ll hurt your back.”

You roll your eyes. You don’t want this kid to be right, but you know he is.

“Just - give him a chance, please? He really deserves one. He’s my best friend… he deserves a shot.”

You sigh again. “Fine.”

===

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[pigeons-scrawlings]

"Oh no! There's two of us, and only ONE BED!" Ship of your choice! 💕

Heck yea, hittin' me with a classic! (Btw, sorry this took forever, my dumb brain kept getting stuck XP)

Alright, let's give this a shot, I'm going with Speeding Bullet cuz it's my OTP :D

Oh, and something to note: I know most people tend to headcanon Snipers first name as Mick but I call him Richard/Rich.

And idk why but I like to think that Snipes and Scout know each other's real names so yeah, their names will be used a few times here.

Anywho, on to the fic!

_____

Scout's been dealing with a lot of feelings lately that he doesn't know what the hell to do with. It's been throwing him off his game pretty badly, and he's gotten very irritable.

He's been picking more fights with his teammates and he can't seem to keep a clear head during matches.

He'd talk to the one friend he's got on the team to vent and get some advice but...

His one friend happens to be the cause of these issues.

He doesn't know how or when exactly it started, things were fine and they could hang out and chat no problem, but then one day all of sudden he can hardly hazard a glance at Sniper without his thoughts wandering to... things.

Things like... How great his voice sounds. How wonderful his eyes are. How much he'd like to touch him, to-

'Jesus, there I go again...' Scout thought as he sighed deeply and put his face in his hand.

A hand on his shoulder snapped him back to reality. Oh yeah, he was talking with Snipes.

"You alright, mate?" Sniper looked at him with clear concern written on his face. Scout brushed his hand off "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Sniper crossed his arms and his expression became more stern "Scout, I know you, something's clearly off. Something's been off for a while now, everyone can see that."

"It's nothin', really"

"Jer, you know you can talk to me, what's-"

"I said I'm fine!" He said that probably a bit louder then he should have, he practically yelled. Scout sighed again and quickly left, leaving Sniper a bit shocked and very worried.

Scout locked himself away in his room and spent the next few hours thinking and sketching out his emotions.

"What the hell am supposed to do..." he muttered to himself as he half-heartedly continued on his drawing.

"The hell can I do? Jus' walk up an' be like 'hey you've been the subject of my fantasies lately'?" Jeremy sighed again and tossed his sketchbook and pencil onto his bed.

He laid back on the bed, put his hands over his face and groaned. 'Even if I did, what would even happen? I don't even know if he... if he even swings that way. With my luck, he'd probably just hate me, think there's something wrong with me.'

He jumped when he heard knocking at his door. "Scout" Fuck. It's Sniper. Fantastic. "Scout I know you're in there, an' that you don't want to talk but I need to speak with ya."

Scout didn't move, hoping Sniper would just go away.

"Jeremy, don't make me get heavy to break your door!" Goddamit. "Alright, fine! Jus' gimme a sec!" He hopped up from the bed and quickly went and opened the door.

Scout leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, giving Sniper a half-hearted glare. "What?"

"We're going on vacation."

"What??"

"You need a break, everyone else needs a break from you, and I'm not comfortable with leavin' you alone right now, so you and me are gonna take a little trip." Sniper tried to give an encouraging smile.

"You gotta be kiddin' me. No." He stepped back and attempted to close the door only to be stopped by Sniper shoving his foot in.

"No choice, mate, like I said, everyone else needs a break from whatever the hell has been going on with you. Either take a trip with me or, well, I don't know what they'd do but I'm sure you wouldn't like it."

Jeremy mulled over the idea for a few moments before reluctantly opening the door.

"Alright. Alright fine, when we leavin'?"

~Time Skip~

The drive out was quiet. Sniper occasionally tried to make small-talk, to lighten the mood but of course, it wasn't doing much.

He wasn't pushing questions though, Scout could be thankful for that.

After another bout of silence, he decided to be the one to break it this time "So, ya gonna tell me where we're goin' yet?"

"You'll see in a bit, we're almost there."

And yet again, the Scout sighed. Sniper wasn't wrong though, in a just about ten or fifteen minutes the path they were following through the woods came to an end.

They were now in a wide clearing. Sniper parked the vehicle and they both hopped out.

'A campground?' There was a well-used fire pit surrounded by logs for seating and a few hiking trails here and there leading back into the woods.

Sniper grabbed a few bags and made his way over to the pit. Scout looked around to see if there was anything interesting to be found here.

He noticed some old, worn-looking railing on the furthest side of the clearing and went over to investigate. On the other side of the railing was apparently a cliff.

As Scout leaned over a rail to peer down it Sniper made his way over to him, grumbling a bit as he went.

Scout glanced at Sniper "Y'alright there, Snipes?" he asked as he continued examining the bottom of the cliff.

Sniper sighed "Well, looks like I somehow forgot somethings, namely the sleeping bags."

As Scout turned to look up at the tall man he was suddenly struck with the mental image of grabbing Sniper by his shirt collar to yank him down for a kiss.

Scout coughed and leaned back on the railing, trying to look calm and casual and praying to God he wasn't blushing

"Ok, so? We can just sleep in your van."

"I only got the one bed in there, mate."

"Oh. Right."

"Yeah. So unless ya feel like sharin', " Sniper began with a mildly amused tone, as he turned to walk back to the camper "I'll just take the floor."

Scout was glad Sniper had turned away because he was definitely blushing at the thought of sharing a bed with him "What? Wait a second!"

Scout quickly walked after Sniper, grabbed his shoulder, turned him back around and gave him an incredulous look "No way, man! I'm not makin' you sleep on the floor!"

"It's fine Jer"

"No, I'll take the floor."

"Wha- Jeremy no, you have the bed, it's fine. Besides, whatever's got you stressed'll just be made worse if ya don't sleep comfortabley."

"I don't care, just- ugh. Alright, ya'know what?" Scout immediately regretted what he was about to say but he didn't stop himself

"We're sharin' the bed!" and with that, he stomped off towards the pit, where Sniper had apparently already gotten a fire going

"Now get yer ass over here, your fire looks like it's dyin'!"

Sniper stood there a moment, a bit stunned, before moving to follow "... Ok, mate."

~Time Skip 2: Electric Boogaloo~

This place had a very relaxing atmosphere, it helped ease Scouts nerves a fair amount. As the sun finished setting the two men were sitting near the fire, eating s'mores and talking.

Sniper was recounting an interesting creature encounter he once had.

"Bullshit, that did not happen," Scout said through a mouthful of graham cracker and marshmallow.

"It's true mate! It was like a jackalope but big as a moose! I'd've shot the thing but I was worried a bullet wouldn't do more than piss it off."

"A big ass kangaroo with antlers, sure. I'll believe that if I ever see it." He finished off his s'more and yawned, feeling a bit drowsy now that the sun was down.

He looked up at the sky, appreciating the stars. Sniper let out his own yawn and spoke "Alright, think we might as well turn in for the night."

Scout hummed an agreement, stood up and stretched as Sniper put out the fire. As they walked to the van some of Scouts drowsy-ness was suddenly replaced with anxiety as he remembered what he'd said earlier.

'Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,' He's gotta share a bed with Sniper. Well, he's not backing out now, he's too stubborn for that. Yup. Stubbornness.

That's it. That's the only reason. The only reason he's gonna go through with it. Certainly not because this has been a fantasy of his. Certainly not because he would very much like to cuddle with the man. Because he doesn't. Really.

After they entered the van they both set about removing their shoes, brushing their teeth, y'know, standard bedtime routine stuff.

Scout was the first to finish and climbed into the bed.

"Y'know, I can still just take the floor, we don't have to-"

"Rich, just shut up and get the hell over here."

Sniper chuckled "Alright."

Scout scooted closer to the wall to make space as Sniper made his way over.

Once he was in the bed Sniper pulled the blankets over the both of them and turned to face away from Scout "G'night, Jer."

"Night"

Scout stared at the ceiling. He wasn't gonna be able to sleep like this, he was far too aware of the warm body lying next to him.

He wanted to curl up to the bushman, to rap an arm around him, to tangle their legs together.

But of course he can't really just go and do that without having to admit some things.

He turned to face the wall and closed his eyes, deciding to at least try to sleep but he was restless, after a few moments he turned to lay on his back again.

Then sighed.

Then turned back to the wall. And tossed and turned a few more times.

Then Sniper sighed and shifted. Turning to lay on his back, he looked at Scout "Jer, you alright, mate?"

"Yeah, m'fine."

"Y'sure? Your tossin' about quite a bit there."

"Yeah, well, not every day I gotta share a bed."

"I can still take the floor if ya want."

"Nah, I'll live."

"Jer, I don't want you gettin' a bad nights sleep 'cause of me."

"Definitely will if ya keep talkin'."

Sniper huffed in amusement "You grew up with seven brothers, didn't you? Can't imagine noise being all that much of an issue."

Scout grumbled quietly, unsure of what else he could say.

Sniper sighed again and shifted to fully face Scout 'Oh God what now' Scout thought.

"Listen. I know you don't want to talk about it, and I promise you if you still don't want to say anything after this then I won't ask again.

But you're my friend, Jeremy, I care about you, about your wellbeing, and I want to help. You know you can talk to me about anything, I won't judge you if that's what you're worried about. So, please. Will you talk to me?"

Scout was quiet for a few moments, trying to think of what the hell he could say. He sure as hell wanted to confess but he was scared of losing his best friend.

He decided to test the waters.

"... Alright..." Scout sat up and turned to lean back on the wall, looking at anything but Sniper, as he collected his thoughts.

Sniper sat up as well and patiently waited.

"Ok, so... I guess it's, uh... I, uh... Ugh... I think... I've, uh..." Scout swallowed nervously and took a deep breath.

"I think I'm... I-in... love?" he glanced at Sniper who gave a bit of confused look

"Not to make light of it, mate, but... Is that all? All of this fuss 'cause of some sheila?" Sniper chuckled and grinned.

"I-it's a... guy... actually..."

Snipers grin dropped and eyes widened slightly "Oh."

"Yeah..."

"Alright, I suppose I can see how you'd be a bit more inclined to secrecy then. Still wish you'd've told me sooner though. Like I always tell you, you can talk-"

"Talk to you about anything, I know, but... I dunno, I just... I dunno..."

"S'alright, Jer... If you don't mind me askin', it's not someone on the team is it?"

Scouts eyes widened and he stared in shock at Sniper "What?! No! Why the hell would I fall for any of those bozos!"

"Jer,"

"That's fucking ridiculous! How can even you suggest that?"

"Jeremy."

"There is no way in hell I would ever even consider one of them-"

"Jeremy!" Sniper clamped a hand down on Scouts shoulder "Would you calm down?"

Scout shut his mouth tightly and stared at Sniper "Listen, mate if telling me who it is is that much of an issue you don't have to!"

"I don't-" Scout was about to deny the idea again but was quickly silenced by Snipers stern expression

"You know you're a terrible liar, mate. You ramble and get defensive every time."

"I- but it's not- It- Fucking Goddamnit!" Scout covered his face and groaned "It's not- ugh!" He sighed lowering his hands but not daring to look at Sniper

"I-I do... want to tell you, I just... I don't..."

Scout felt his throat tighten, his could feel his eyes start to water. Sniper pulled him into a tight hug "It's okay, Jer."

"I don't want you to hate me."

"I could never hate you, I don't give a 'roo's ass who you love, it could never make me hate you!"

Scout gripped tightly to his only friend as if he'd lose him if he let go, he certainly felt like he would.

He pulled back a little ways, still not letting go, and looked Sniper in the eyes, those fantastic eyes. He doesn't know what prompted him to to do it but,

Next thing he knew his lips were on Snipers. He jumped back as soon as he realized what he was doing.

Sniper looked just as shocked if not more so. Scout covered his face again, fully expecting some kind of negative reaction.

Instead, Sniper pulled his hands away, held one of them and put one of his own to Scouts cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb and returned the kiss.

Scout couldn't believe it, he had to be dreaming! But it definitely felt real, and it felt amazing. It made his heart pound.

Sniper broke the kiss and looked Scout in the eyes "...Told ya I wouldn't hate you." He gave a soft smile and kissed Scout on the nose.

Scout smiled and couldn't help but laugh a little "Guess I was really worried over nothin', huh?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead opting to kiss Sniper again.

~The End~

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 6)

She has parked the car along a small road somewhere in the small town of Cherokee, North Carolina, for the night. Outside the car window, and inside, it’s pitch black, except for the faintly lit wheels on the car radio. Somewhat protected, thanks to the surrounding vegetation next to the Oconaluftee River, near a deserted parking lot, Mila considered it safe for them to spend the night. Yeah, seems calm enough, she thinks and tries her best to see something out there in the darkness. It may as well be because she’s drunk beyond all judgment by now. 

Mila pulls her hand over her face and holds up the bottle with the transparent liquid in front of her. The large Stolichnaya vodka bottle is less than half full by now. The vodka has disappeared as Mila's mind has become more and more restful, stunned. She doesn't feel anything and it’s fantastic. Wonderful even. Why can't she feel nothing, all the time? From the back seat she hears Juri’s calm breathing. He has already slept for a couple of hours. Sometimes he snores. 

Mila herself has drowned her grief and anxiety in alcohol for the last months, ever since they left that run down motel somewhere in Missouri. A ritual she repeats every night. As soon as Juri is asleep, she starts drinking. Crying and drinking. After awhile she’s all out of tears, dry behind her eyes as the fucking Sahara desert. Then she drinks more, until she’s stunned. She has cried herself through ten states by now during their almost 5,000 miles long journey without a final destination. Thank goodness for the Russian genes, she thinks and takes another sip from the bottle. Superstition or not; Mila is convinced that it’s the only reason she isn’t mercilessly hung over, every fucking day. Of course Juri knows she drinks. Mila casts a glance to the backseat, at the beautiful little boy. As long as she takes care of him, everything is fine. That's what she lives for. The only reason why she doesn’t wade out into the river and lets herself be swept away. Mila drops into the seat and puts her feet on each side of the steering wheel, on top of the dashboard. Her eyes are burning, and she feels dry and swollen. It can’t be healthy to cry this much. But that's the only thing she can do. On the inside she’s broken. Devastated. She reaches for the radio and presses ’play’ on the cassette player. Through the scratchy speakers, she faintly hears the familiar tones of the guitar, then the piano and a tambourine. Rosanne Cash's voice feels as if someone had pressed a knife into her heart and twisted it.

”Just one more kiss, she'll have to miss this night with you. Now you're guilty of this secret love, as I am too. You'll get used to telling lies, feeling sorry when she cries …”

Mila closes her eyes, brings the bottle to her mouth and drinks. Dreams herself away to another reality, what should be.

Their song. One of many. But his eyes always turned dark, soft, like melted chocolate as it began to play. And she loved it. Loved how that big, strong man turned all soft. Jim was a big puppy in reality. Like when he entered the bar she worked part time at in Brighton Beach in Brooklyn, or Little Odessa as the locals called it. It’s a long time ago now, but she remembers it like it was yesterday. The owner was about to faint at the sight of him; completely convinced that he was a hired torpedo; a big guy, dressed in black suit. No, Jim was there to meet her, and it happened to be after his job at a security company. Mila thought he looked like James Bond, totally different from her first sight ever of him, when he didn’t wear a shirt at all. Yep, she was besotted. She ended up talking to him for hours, leaned up at the other side of the bar, completely neglecting the other visitors, to the sound of Rosanne Cash.

Crap, Mila feels something wet run down her cheek. Hasn’t she already cried seas of tears by now? She’ll turn into a raisin if this continues. To keep up with the loss of fluid Mila chugs the last drops from the bottle. There must be a reason why vodka means water for life, right? Carefully she removes the photo from the backside of the sun visor and holds it close in front of her, to be able to see the faces in the picture through the darkness. Herself, with her arms around Jim’s neck. It’s from one of their hikes to Harriman State Park. He always looked so handsome. Always wore denim shirts, was always seen holding a cup of coffee and-

Mila twitches as the cassette tape is ejected from the radio. She doesn’t bother to flip it over. She’ll fall asleep soon anyway. Softly she caresses the surface of the picture, where Jim’s face smiles up at her. Why the hell did he have to die? That's not how it was supposed to be. They had planned everything. Her life would turn for the better, at last. No, for perfection. They would grow old together, sit on a porch on a farm somewhere in Oklahoma and talk about their amazing life, all their memories. Mojave Desert. Yosemite. Yellowstone. Graceland, Nashville country music festival… Traveling around the country in a camper van. It sounded so amazing when they talked about it. And then he died and left her and Juri all alone with their plans and dreams, leaving her torn between wanting to die and wanting to keep Juri safe. She couldn’t do that to him. She had to live on.

The radio starts to crackle. Mila adjusts the wheel, to tune in another station that isn’t white noice. Not that there’s a working radio station in these times, but at least there are some that are dead quiet.

”Termmm…”

It’s as if she has sat on a needle. Mila jumps in the driver’s seat at the sound. What the fuck?! She gets her legs down from the dashboard. In the matter of seconds she’s wide awake, almost as clear as if she would have been sober, and stares at the radio as if it talked to her. But it did! It talked to her! Completely still she listens, without breathing.

”Termnnzzzz…”

The signal is weak. Quickly Mila starts to tune in the signal, tries desperately to make it clearer.

”Terminus, those who arrive survive.”

A voice comes through.

”Terminus, those who arrive survive.”

It can’t be? Is it possible? Has she reached the point of being drunk, where she hallucinates and hears voices? She looks back at Juri in the backseat. He’s still asleep underneath his blankets, peaceful. She turns back to the radio. A sanctuary? Really. The female voice repeats the same line, followed by what sounds like coordinates over the crackling radio frequency. I need paper, Mila thinks, and desperately starts to look around in the dark small space. She finds one of Juri’s crayons in-between the seats and an old receipt on the dashboard. With her heart beating rapidly in her chest Mila manages to scribble the directions in pitch darkness, before the raspy one-way radio broadcasts dies. White noise follows. Mila convulsively grips the small piece of paper and the wheel in front of her. Her head spins, she feels almost nauseated. There are others. Other people. A safe place somewhere around Atlanta, Georgia.

She struggles against the vodka to try to determine where in the country she is, without having to look for a map, light a flashlight and wake Juri. But curiosity takes over, and her geographical knowledge of America is limited. Mila falls over, a result of the influence of the liquor, as she reaches over to the glove compartment, and takes out a bundle of folded tourist maps. She lights the flashlight and awaits a reaction from Juri. But he’s deep asleep and Mila turns her attention back to the map, struggling desperately to focus her gaze. She should have eaten better before she started juggling booze. After a while she manages to find the state they are currently in, edge to edge with Georgia. She is about to burst into tears again. How lucky?! Mila puts the map aside, drops into the driver's seat and looks at the roof, eyelids are getting heavy.

”It's going to be alright, Juri.” she whispers into the empty car. ”It's going to be alright.”

[fortysevenswrites]

all the odd numbers <3

Alllllllll the odd numbers? Okayyyyy then.

1. when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

It’s been a loooooong time since I’ve had cereal, but definitely more cereal, added milk as needed. The last thing I can handle is soggy cereal.

3. what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

I’m that asshole who dog-ears her book pages. Sorry not sorry.

5. are you self-conscious of your smile?

Not really.

7. do you name your plants?

Lol I’d have to keep plants to name plants. The closest I’ve gotten is when I was house-sitting for my sister and thought I murdered her strawberries last summer. Turns out, I didn’t.

9. do you like singing/humming to yourself?

Not really. I do most of my singing to myself in my head.

11. what’s an inner joke you have with your friends?

Too many to count.

13. what’s something that made you smile today?

I bought these sour gummy snakes at the market today. Had them for brunch. Meal of champions.

15. go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

According to the great google and Arizona State University, there are more trees on earth (3 trillion) than there are stars in our galaxy (100-400 billion). That’s a lot.

17. what color do you really want to dye your hair?

Overtone, the hair dye company, has been advertising this color blend called Merlot, which is a mid between red and purple and it’s SO my vibe.

19. do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

I try to, but by the time I’m done with my day, I forget to journal. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

21. talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

answered here

23. what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

answered here

25. what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into?

answered here

27. what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor?

I don’t chew gum.

29. what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

My best friend does this nose crinkle thing that is adorable.

31. what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

I wish they would just FUCKING FIT. So I don’t wear socks unless I have to.

33. what’s your fave pastry?

Chocolate croissants. Hands down. 

35. do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?

I have the handwriting of a twelve year old boy, so stationary is wasted on me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

37. do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

I am blind to most messes. My closet is on the floor, pretty much.

39. what color do you wear the most?

Black. Hands down.

41. what’s the last book you remember really, really loving?

Any book in the Sigma Series by James Rollins. I am trash for a good military thriller.

43. who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

Probably not since I was still working at the summer camp I grew up at, so, years ago, and probably with my campers.

45. do you trust your instincts a lot?

Yeah. My instincts are always right.

47. what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

I don’t do bananas. 

49. do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

Oh man, I used to LOVE buying CDs. The last record I bought was a vinyl of Haley’s Badlands when she did a club concert around the corner from where I live. It was SO much fun. Do I have a way to play said vinyl? No. 

51. think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

I recently got news about a person who I used to work with back in the ye olde. The song I’m thinking of is Fuck You Very Much by Lily Allen. So, uh, take from that what you will.

53. have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

Beetlejuice is one of the best movies of all time. I’ve actually never watched RHPS all the way through. And I’ve never seen Heathers or Pulp Fiction.

55. what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point?

Quit my job.

57. go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

Like I could conquer the damn world. And yes, I did sing along. Duh. And now I want to listen to Radio Gaga. So thanks for that.

59. what’s your favorite myth?

I’ve always been a huge fan of the story of Serenity and Endymion. Goes back to my Sailor Moon phase. As one does.

61. what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received?

I don’t think any of the gifts I’ve given, gag or not, are stupid. Even the socks I’ve given (and gotten).

63. are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

Not really. I like knowing where the books I go back to regularly are, but that’s really it. I used to be really organized about my music back when iTunes was a thing. Now I really just listen to music via YouTube.

65. is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with?

Yes, and that’s as far as I’m going to go on that nonsense. It’s been nine damn years. Ugh.

67. how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

SO FUCKING GOOD. Love days like that.

69. what are your favorite board games?

Uhhhhhh....I haven’t played board games in years. 

71. what’s your favorite kind of tea?

I used to drink green tea before I realized caffeine gave me serious anxiety.

73. what are some of your worst habits?

A great many things.

75. tell us about your pets!

My four-legged roommate Bishop. She’s the black cat I’ve always wanted and she’s the biggest, brattiest baby and she screams when she wants me to pay more attention to her. I am also the the aunt to four dog nieces, Belle (black lab mix), Raven (beagle mix), Ivy (miniature aussie), and Cora (husky/german shepherd mix), and two dog nephews, Sebastian (miniature schnhauzer) and Sven (husky/german shepherd mix). 

77. pink or yellow lemonade?

Pink when I’m feeling fancy. 

79. what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

Someone I know, two years ago, the day after he met me, snuck me a cookie from the leftovers after team meal. It’s been a problem ever since.

81. describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

They change colors, but most often, somewhere between fanfiction yellow, and the color of dead moss. And they’re the best.

83. what’s some of your favorite album art?

I don’t really have thoughts on album art? But I have my Halsey Badlands vinyl right in front of me and it’s pretty cool.

85. do you read comics? what are your faves?

Not often, but I have a giant pile of Power Rangers comics that I’ve been meaning to read through for like...ever.

87. what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

Blazing Saddles, Pacific Rim, Beetlejuice, Crazy Rich Asians

89. are you close to your parents?

Well that’s a complicated question. Let’s just leave it at that.

91. where do you plan on traveling this year?

Well I was supposed to go to Hawaii for a friend’s wedding this summer, but she pushed it back to 2022, which makes sense. Other than that, California at some point to see my grandparents because I haven’t seen them in over a year because of the pandemic.

93. what’s the hairstyle you wear the most?

Either a ponytail or a messy bun. Sometimes I’ll wear it down, but it depends on which day I am between shampoos. My hair is, well, finicky at best.

95. what are your plans for this weekend?

I have a module for a course I’m taking that I need to watch and do the homework for. Maybe go up to my sister’s house once my niece gets back from her dance tournament

97. myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

MB is steeped in eugenics so, no thank you, and also I just don’t have time to take the quiz. I’m a Taurus, and damn straight am I a Taurus. And I’m a Slytherin, full stop (though apparently I’m also a Ravenclaw, which makes sense).

99. list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

marjorie by Taylor Swift, any song on Halsey’s Badlands album, The Pit by Silversun Pickups, Jet Pack Blues by Fall Out Boy, and Save Rock and Roll by Fall Out Boy, to name a few.

these are actually hella fucking cute y'all (except, you know, all the odds)

[nicostolemybones]

Amber Valentine

Tw: minor character deaths (referenced), mentions of homophobia, ambiguous rejection (purposely left unanswered so the reader can choose which they want it to be)

Nico woke up. Nico didn't like that. He tried to sleep again but no, sleep was impossible, because today was a bad day and his brain hated him. He wanted compensation from life for waking him up today, on Valentine's day of all days.

He huffed, dreading the day more and more as the heavy weightlessness of sleep left his bones to be replaced with a dull ache. He didn't have the strength to get out of bed yet, and to be quite honest, he didn't really want to. 

So he opted to angrily stare at the ceiling like it personally offended him. The one time he wakes up before breakfast, and it's on the one day he wishes some kid would whack him round the head and put him in a coma for the day. He bet Will was already out on his morning run. He'd wake at the ass crack of dawn like a heathen and exercise like a heathen and glow like it didn't fucking give everyone a headache like a heathen.

But he was cute, so Nico forgave him.

Cute didn't really describe it. Will was a beautiful. Nico wondered what it would be like to wake up in the morning to the sight of Will sleeping beside him. He could imagine it- Will laying on his stomach with his head on his arms, golden blond hair fanning out onto the pillow, his skin glowing softly in the morning light. Nico wondered if Will had freckles on his back too, and if Will would let him paint them, like angel wings and constellations.

Stupid cute boy making him have emotions this early in the goddamn morning on the worst day of his life. Should be illegal. Nico forced himself out of bed and prepared for the day before opening the door- and the offending boy was stood nervously on his doorstep, freckles glowing a light yellow whilst his skin glowed soft amber. He had such a pretty smile and pretty eyes and Nico absolutely despised him for being so cute and making him blush in public by being so goddamn cute. 

"What do you want Solace? You see the sky? You see that giant orb of radiation and death? Yeah? Well that means it's way too fucking early to be awake."

"Nice to see our resident vampire is already in full brooding mode! That must mean you're awake enough for a hug!" Will beamed, and gods Nico couldn't breathe because… holy shit. His smile was so beautiful and he was glowing sunrise yellow and he had dimples okay and his nose was scrunched and Nico forgot how to breathe. He was so pretty.

"Don't you dare, Solace!"

"But hugs," Will pouted, his glow slowly turning sunset yellow as Nico tried to resist. Nico couldn't resist because his boyfriend looked like a kicked puppy and he gave good hugs. 

"Okay, fine, hugs," Nico relented with a sigh. Will's glow was back in full force, sunrise yellow with a warm amber undertone, and he was practically throwing himself at Nico, wrapping him up in a warm hug. Fuck, Nico was gonna die like this and go to Elysium, he couldn't function because the cute bastard was hugging him and he was warm and he smelled gorgeous, like lemons and antiseptic and cinnamon and sandalwood and sunshine and sweat and boy. Then Nico realised he hadn't been hugging back- he could tell by the way the heat from Will's glow changed slightly, nervous heat, that he was shifting back into a sunset hue, and that kickstarted Nico's brain to hug back, and Will's warmth grew comforting again. 

Nico didn't want Will to ever let go.

If he was honest, he was kinda touch starved. He may have been touch averse, but that didn't mean he didn't need affection from time to time, and Will's hugs made him feel safe and sentimental and fuzzy. And Will was taller than him so his face was met with a wall of muscle and fuck Nico could die because that was his man and he was a fucking snack. Between feeling sentimental and flustered, Nico felt overwhelmed- the touch starved side of him wanted to cry and the teenage side of him practically wanted to consume Will and the conflicting emotions were too much for him to process at once. 

He reluctantly let go, noticing Will's hesitation in the way his arms twitched as he let go, like his body didn't want to let go and Will had to fight it. Nico wanted to hug him again, but he knew if he hugged Will again he'd grow deeply uncomfortable and want to rip his flesh off. Sometimes physical contact was like that feeling when a bug flies into your face and you can still feel it twenty minutes after it's flew away. But ten times more intense and distressing to the point it made Nico want to scream and cry and rip his face off, but apparently, that isn't what physical contact felt like and Nico was being over dramatic so naturally everybody would pull him into hugs or headlocks and Nico would freeze or bolt. Except for Will. Will may have been very huggy, but he never tried to force Nico into physical contact. He didn't question it if Nico pushed him away sometimes and he didn't take it personally. 

"So uh…" Will began, his freckles a nervous pale amber, which Nico knew meant he was anxious. He didn't finish his sentence, picking at the bandage around his hand instead. 

"It's Valentine's day," Nico said quietly, and Will nodded awkwardly. 

"Yeah…"

"I already told you, I won't celebrate it."

"I know," Will said quickly, and the amber of his freckles was almost a dark chocolate gold, "I wanted to talk. Can we- can we go somewhere?" He looked just about ready to cry, and Nico's concern was able to quickly override his aversion to being seen. 

"You look terrified," Nico noted, and Will nodded, not moving. Nico started to walk, and Will followed him. Nico could feel the heat radiating off him, so Nico walked him to a far spot through the forest- walking helped anxiety by tricking your brain into thinking you were running away- fight or flight. And for a short while, Will seemed less anxious, but the closer they got to their favourite talking spot, the darker Will's glow got until he was a dark sunset orange. Sunrise colours were good- sunset ones were worrying. "Will?"

"I really wanna tell you something but I never talk about it and I'm scared to talk about it because I like running away from my feelings and I need to talk about it and I trust you the most to understand how I feel so can we talk about it?"

"Of course," Nico said gently, guiding Will to sit down. He looked on the verge of tears.

"I hate Valentine's day," Will said quietly, "I hate it so much."

"Glad we're on the same page," Nico said quietly, and he knew that Will would catch his meaning: I'll understand, you can tell me anything.

"You already know I'm from Austin, right? Well I come from a super nice area, y'know? My school had a gsa and the local church I went to as a kid was super accepting and had rainbow flags and funded a shelter for lgbt youths. My grandma was a lesbian and her wife made me my very first punk jacket when I was six. So uh… I grew up in a super nice place. So I knew quite young that I weren't straight, you know? I hadn't really had crushes yet but I remember we all used to play kiss chase at recess and I always wanted to kiss the girls and the boys. So I knew I wasn't straight. And I came out to my mom on Valentine's day because young me was making Valentine's day cards for all the boys in my class. Except for John. He was a cunt. I didn't like John. But anyways um- I ran downstairs and I yelled at the top of my lungs 'mama I'm gay!' And she looked really awkward and just replied 'that's nice, honey,' and I thought maybe she thought I was joking so I was like- 'no mama, I wanna kiss all the boys and all the girls,'- I didn't know what bi was, by the way- and she just gave me this really awkward look and said we'd talk about it later, and then she went to hang the washing. I didn't know if she was awkward because she didn't accept me or just the way I came out, and I still don't know and-..."

"Will?" He was crying by now, a sunset red undertone to his sunset amber glow, pushing the ball of his palms into his eyes to try and stop the tears.

"I never got to ask if she was okay with me being gay because a few minutes later I heard scary noises so I hid under the kitchen table and the scary noises sounded like a really big lion and I heard mama scream so I went out and I screamed because she was dead and bleeding and eaten and then it tried to eat me too but a goat man grabbed me and ran and took me to camp, and that's why I'm an all year round camper…"

"Will…" Nico began gently, before reaching out and holding him in a strong hug. "I wish I could tell you if your mom accepted you or not… and I wish I could make all your pain go away…"

"I always thought mama got killed because of me. Because if I didn't say I was gay she wouldn't have gone outside. So I didn't wanna tell anyone I liked boys ever in case they died, and I spent all these years so sure that she rejected me that day because she looked uncomfortable and sad and I felt like nobody loved me if my mama didn't love me and Valentine's day reminds me of all that and… it hurts… rejection hurts..."

"How long have you been holding all that in for," Nico asked softly, rubbing comforting circles on his back and gently carding his fingers through his hair. Will's hair was dry and floofy but it never seemed to knot. 

"Since forever," Will sniffled, "and I felt bad because I could never celebrate Valentine's day without being real sad and thinking about rejection."

"Please don't feel bad," Nico said softly, "it's okay. We never have to celebrate it, it reminds you of your trauma."

"I didn't think anyone would understand…"

"My mom died too," Nico said quietly, pulling away from Will so he wouldn't overwhelm himself too much. "I watched her die too. But it wasn't a monster, it was Zeus."

"I- I didn't know, I'm so sorry," Will whispered, and Nico shook his head.

"I lost a sister about two days before Christmas. Bianca. Which is why I got upset when you wanted me to wear the Christmas jumper. But- my point is I understand how it can ruin a holiday, and I want you to know that I understand, and you're not alone because I relate."

"I'm sorry," Will said quietly, "I'm really sorry." Will moved to hug Nico, but Nico gently pushed him away. As usual, Will didn't protest or try again.

"I hate Valentine's day because I was outed," Nico began after a deep breath. Will's glow was sunset orange and yellow with concern. "I was outed by Eros to Jason. I had a crush on Percy in the past, and Eros made me tell him. Jason, I mean. He shot me with an arrow and everything. I wasn't ready to come out- I hadn't accepted myself yet. I wasn't comfortable. When I was a kid being gay would have got me killed. And after Eros made me come out it felt like suddenly everyone knew. And I even accidentally outed myself to an entire Roman Legion thingy. Then when you made me come to the infirmary I felt obliged to tell Percy. All my life I'd seen myself as creepy, and everyone else thought I was creepy, so I felt like I had to tell him. Like he had a right to know. I still wasn't okay with myself and I didn't want anybody to know, and I still struggle sometimes with internalised homophobia. Or at least a fear of being outed or being seen or being attacked. I can't handle hearing slurs or judging looks or bigoted preachers without breaking down in tears because I didn't ask for this and it feels like I'm constantly being punished when I didn't even do anything wrong. I'll just be minding my own business and some asshole tries to ruin it, because somehow, people just know."

"I understand that," Will said softly, but Nico felt scared- Will had an angry sunset red undertone to a near white yellow sunset glow. He thought Will was mad at him for being a coward. "I'm gonna smash every last Cupid statue and heart card I see dotted around camp. You shouldn't have to have your triggers and your trauma shoved in your face any day."

"Will don't," Nico said softly, reaching for Will's hand, and a sunrise orange began to seep through the darker undertones, like he was trying to reassure Nico that it was alright. "They don't know, and I don't want to ruin their day. I was gonna stay in my cabin, but… I'm glad I'm out here with you. I feel safe here with you."

"I feel safe with you too," Will said softly, and his glow radiated a warm sunrise amber with yellow undertones- fondness, golden. 

"Maybe we should reclaim Valentine's day," Nico said quietly. "Make it ours. As a fuck you to all our trauma, y'know? Avoid all the traditions and just snog the fuck out of each other until we both turn blue then do whatever the fuck we want. We have each other now."

"So… celebrate Valentine's day to spite Valentine's day by making it our own? Not romantic, just spite?" Will seemed amused, a thin smile on his lips making one of his dimples prominent where the corner of his mouth turned upwards to form a lopsided smile. 

"I'm powered by spite and I'm tiny so yeah," Nico replied, bumping shoulders with Will. "Hey… maybe one day when you're ready for answers, I can summon your mom," he suggested gently.

"Maybe," Will replied softly, "I love you."

"Ti amo."

So they kissed, and they kissed until Will's glow was golden and bright and encompassing Nico in warm rays, and the shadows were dancing around Nico and holding Will close. They kissed until they felt fuzzy and hot, and they kissed until things would have got real awkward if they would have continued. When they pulled apart, Will's cheeks were a ruddy pink to the tips of his ears and blotchy, and Nico was sure he was puce. Fuck Cupid and fuck manticores too. Nothing could take this love away from them.

[thisiswhatwereupagainst]

TL;DR Went into Captain Britain and Excalibur just to read Meggan, expected to hate Brian, found out they both were bad to each other and are both very injured, traumatized characters grappling with gender norms in their own way, and I have a lot of sympathy and love for them BOTH now even if they definitely are not a good couple at this point. So, I am keenly interested in Meggan Puceanu as a character and a concept. Just learning some very basic things about her prompted THIS META POST three years ago. And that was before I really plunked down and decided to read all her stuff in order. And while I have yet to read ALL of it by a longshot. But I’ve gotten through about 20 issues now, from her first appearances in “The Mighty World of Marvel” in 1984, to meeting and joining up with Brian Braddock/Captain Britain in the second series of Captain Britain in 1985, to the first five issues of Excalibur in 1985. So yeah, keep in mind reading this, I am only up to Excalibur #5. And I know I probably should wait before writing all this stuff, read more, see if my interpretations hold true. But I have so many thoughts and I just can’t wait that long! So please read on with the understanding I may be proven completely wrong in these perceptions later. That said.... I had some basic knowledge of Brian and Meggan’s dynamic. I knew that she was completely emotionally dependent on him, that her every emotion hinged on his approval and attention, that a lot of her very identity was based around pleasing him as his girlfriend. I also knew he’d been a real dick to her, and that his descent into alcoholism had made him an even bigger dick. So, I was really prepared to dislike him. And while I do still dislike the power imbalance that their relationship was founded on, I ended up having very different feelings about Brian himself than I expected---I thought I was going to encounter a shitty macho man himbo asshole who treated Meggan like shit just because. Seriously, look at THIS and THIS and THIS! What a JERK! I was all prepped to despise this guy and yell about toxic masculinity and how Meggan deserved better. Instead, what I found was someone who was as broken and in pain as Meggan herself, but who got far less sympathy for it than she did, both from other characters and from fans. The first big shock that I got was that Brian had been raped twice by female villains in the second Captain Britain series, before Excalibur began. I had actually read about this a couple years ago on TV Tropes, but seeing it was something else. I wrote a longer post about it HERE As noted in the post, Brian never told anyone about either of these incidences as far as I know, nor getting any kind of therapy or treatment. He also started drinking after this happened. And as of Excalibur beginning, Betsy is dead (or so he believes) and he’s grappling a lot with that too. I think it was unethical of him not to rebuff Meggan when she first came on to him, for reasons I’ll discuss later in this post, but also makes sense for his character, not because he’s an unethical person but because he’s actually very passive and seems to just accept whatever is demanded by him of others; he talks about this with Courtney, how he has no choice in being Captain Britain, how it was imposed on him, asking if he’s a coward for just wanting a little of his own life and she unsympathetically says it’s “obscene” how he “can’t be bothered” to “take charge” of his own life (Excalibur #3). It’s a very unusual flaw for a male character. In his own way, he’s at the mercy of what others demand him to be as much as Meggan is with her powers, and I find that really interesting. I already knew that Meggan is very much a reflection of the demands placed on women by society, literally twisting her own emotions and physical forms to coincide with what is considered beautiful and what others desire, whereas Brian, it turns out, is himself a reflection of the demands placed on men---he has to be a warrior, whether he likes it or not (and he doesn’t, it’s part of his backstory that he doesn’t see himself that way at all), he has to be the hero and take care of the girl and he feels he has to just go with it when Meggan decides he’s her man and she needs him. And Meggan is more flawed than I expected. She’s oftentimes shockingly selfish in her obsession with Brian. For instance, when his ex Courtney is kidnapped by the sadistic murderous Arcade, Brian is understandably upset, and this troubles Meggan because she thinks that his being upset means he still cares for Courtney. The selfishness there is staggering; a woman’s life is in danger and Meggan’s first concern is her own love life, and she assumes that the only reason Brian could care about said woman’s life being in danger is if he’s in love with her. Or when Brian’s drinking is first brought up by the rest of the team, Meggan says it hurts her that he turns to those bottles instead of to her (Excalibur #3). So, her problem isn’t that Brian is obviously becoming addicted to alcohol, it’s that SHE isn’t the one that he turns to. She’s got a lot of moments like this. That said, I LIKE this about Meggan. It makes me like her MORE. It makes her WAY more realistic and flawed and human than the archetypical frail damsel who is just an accessory to her man that I was expecting. She’s clingy, she’s possessive, she’s downright nasty and hostile over him a lot! She may not think of herself as a real person, but the writers treat her as one, complete with flaws. Her dependency isn’t treated as a good or romantic thing either, it’s not held up as a female virtue like I was expecting; Brian is actually bothered by it, he confides in Kurt that he doesn’t think he can handle how she relies on him for everything, how he actually PREFERS Courtney because unlike Meggan, Courtney is her own woman-- “She doesn’t seem to NEED me as completely and desperately as Meggan seems to. Sometimes I feel I’m the total and absolute focus of Meggan’s life. It’s a responsibility I don’t think I’m capable of handling.” And Brian is right, this ISN’T a good thing to do in a relationship, Meggan is putting a lot of unfair emotional weight on his shoulders, and he’s already got a lot to bear from his own trauma and loss. In fact, one could even argue that her behavior would be seen as toxic if the genders were reversed. She’s still very sympathetic, of course, because this is coming from a place of real insecurity and need and probably her powers too, but it’s more three-dimensional and complicated than what I originally expected. But I like that. Because again, it’s more realistic, both in terms of Meggan’s behavior and in Brian’s reaction to it---he doesn’t WANT a woman being totally dependent on him and thinking the sun shines out his ass and needing him for everything, he wants another human being. That’s not what I expected a Bad Macho Man Stereotype to be saying! But in fact, Brian says another thing he prefers about Courtney is “she’s her own woman” and  “I can talk to her, Kurt.” (Excalibur #5) Brian is a man who wants to be able to have someone he can be VULNERABLE with, to talk with as an equal about his fears and anxieties---which he does with Courtney, as mentioned---and he can’t do that with Meggan because of the pedestal she puts him on and her needing so much care herself. He says as much himself to Kurt. He also recognizes that he himself probably isn’t equipped to deal with Meggan’s issues, she needs much more help than he can give. This isn’t an idealized thing at all, this is a realistic depiction of two very emotionally injured people in a very messed up dynamic that is bad for BOTH of them, hurting them BOTH. Up til actually reading it, I was expecting it to be one-sided, with Meggan being the only one suffering, but it’s not! And Meggan being like this, of being obsessed with Captain Britain and behaving in a very “cliche” way over him, makes a TON of sense for her, she’s not just obsessed with him for no reason like a typical “just the hero’s girlfriend” character. Meggan grew up being kept secret in her family’s camper-trailer for her then-monstrous appearance, til during the Jasper’s Warp when reality shifted into a world that was putting superhumans, including herself, into concentration camps. While she was in the camps, Captain Britain was a legend as a liberator and freedom fighter who was fighting back against the regime for the sake of people like her. And when reality returned to normal, Meggan was one of the few people who remembered that it had ever changed; she remembered the camps, and she remembered Captain Britain. Even though she’d never even seen him at that point, she clung to him as her one hope. Then the real Captain Britain found her when she was homeless and living in an abandoned warehouse, and he lets her live with him in his mansion because she has nowhere else, which is probably more kindness than she’s ever been shown in her life, and from someone she idolized. Which, as I said way earlier in this essay, does make their relationship an inherently unethical one because of their power imbalance, as he’s got a lot of power over her in terms of being the one providing her with a home, food, clothing, etc., not to mention her emotional dependency that’s obvious well before she makes a move on him. So we’re already starting on really problematic territory. But it makes SENSE for her. Add to that Meggan was raised on television in a VERY literal sense. Again, she was locked up in her camper trailer all day every day her whole life, and so she spent most of her time just watching TV. It’s shown that this has given her SOME UNREALISTIC IDEAS ABOUT HOW TO BEHAVE so I think that absorbing the media’s depictions of how women are “supposed” to behave towards their men is actually pretty realistic. She’s not doing this because the writers think this is just how women are----NONE of the other female characters act at all like she does!---but because SHE thinks it’s what’s normal and expected, and she’s probably very much imprinted on the media’s fantasy fairytale depiction of relationships. Given how she grew up as an ugly monster and seeing herself as such, I can very much see her as latching on the idea of “beautiful sweet woman who is valued for her beauty and being with the lead man and has no identity apart from that” that’s prevalent in media, which she would take for a reflection of reality, a reality that she thought her whole life would be denied to her. So all her behavior has a good in-character reason; she could even be read as a criticism of trying to enact gendered media stereotypes in real life and how they can’t actually work in the complexity of the real world, and how damaging they are to those who absorb them. What’s also funny is that despite appearing to be the standard “strong man, pretty woman” couple, especially with Brian becoming emotionally distant and cruelly pushing her away whilst she’s very emotional and obsessed with pleasing him, is they actually subvert this paradigm as much as they play it straight. The Juggernaut WIPES THE FLOOR with Brian at one point, and then Meggan shows up, shapeshifts into a GIANT MUSCULAR VERSION OF HERSELF, and comes to his rescue with Rachel and Kitty! That’s right, a buff lady and two other ladies save the dude in distress! And then afterwards, she acts like SHE was the one in danger, resuming her default petite form and jumping into his big manly arms while he asks if she’s alright and she says “Always in your arms!” ---it’s hilarious! (Excalibur #3) And of course, speaking of subverting gender stereotypes, there’s Brian’s desire to have a partner he can be vulnerable with, which is really astounding to me----he’s very much grappling with the expectations of toxic masculinity in a way that’s harming him as much as Meggan. Not just in relation to Meggan, but also, as mentioned before, in relation to not having control of his own life as Captain Britain, and being responsible for others. In particular, he’s messed up over Betsy’s (seeming) death, and over not having protected her, as a man would be expected to protect his sister. In the panel right before the “changeling cow!” scene I linked earlier, THIS IS WHAT HE SAYS. He doesn’t see himself as any good if he doesn’t meet impossible standards. And while Meggan reacts to pain by getting teary, Brian consistently reacts to his pain (or trying to hide it) by getting ANGRY, which is consistent with how women vs men are socialized. Which is not to say it’s anything but VISCERALLY HORRIBLE when he lashes out at Meggan, especially given how dependent she is on him, and she absolutely SHOULD have dumped his ass then, but it’s also a lot more three-dimensional than the emotionally abusive drunken bad boyfriend stereotype I was expecting.  I know I’m a broken record on this, but I am just so shocked at how sympathetic I ended up being to a guy I was so prepared to hate and was so cruel to a character (Meggan) that I was already very sympathetic to and invested in. Instead, I’m invested in them BOTH now and want to see them BOTH heal from this, and from each other. So, basically, I was really ready to be mad about Meggan’s lack of agency and her dependence on Brian. And these are things that happen. But the writers are clearly AWARE of it, and treat them as issues to be addressed and overcome. Meggan and Brian come off not as the cliche male and female stereotypes they first appeared, and that I expected, but very critical examinations and sometimes subversions of them, and both are shown as being hurt by the expectations of their gender, and being hurt by each other as they enact those expectations. It’s not totally perfect, not by a long shot, but it’s very interesting and a lot more nuanced than I expected some straight white guys in the 80s to be writing, it’s definitely a far cry from the typical idealized relationship between a hero and a leading lady, and I’m pretty impressed with it. And I’m looking forward to reading more.

[katymacsupernatural]

Camp Counselor

Misha x Reader 

2000 Words

Written For: @spnfluffbingo2019, @spnaubingo

Squares Filled: Summer Camp AU(Fluff), Art Teacher Misha(AU)

Warnings: NSFW, smut, at the end. age difference

The bench under your butt was hard and unyielding, but you didn’t notice. Your oatmeal was congealing on your spoon, your coffee growing cold. But none of that caught your attention. It was a certain blue-eyed older man that had you caught under a spell, and he had no idea.

“Earth to Y/N,” your bunk buddy Tricia exclaimed as she sat down next to you. “What’s got your attention?”

Shaking your head, you turned to face her, blushing slightly. “Nothing, just daydreaming.” 

She smiled knowingly. “Sure. It has nothing to do with the blue-eyed camp leader of ours. Nothing at all.”

You glanced around, checking to make sure no one heard her. “Tricia! What if he heard you?” 

Tricia took a bite of her oatmeal, wincing at the blandness. “Then maybe you and he can head back to that cabin of his and get this infatuation out of your mind. You’re going to college in a week Y/N! He’s going to be long gone by then.” 

“I know,” you sighed. “But he’s just so dreamy.” 

You gave up on your food. Taking your tray to the kitchen, you rinsed it off before deciding to head out for the day. It was the last day of camp. Tomorrow all the little kids under your care would be heading back to their parents, and you would be heading home to pack for your sophomore year at college.

“Morning Y/N,” Misha, the camp leader spoke up as you rounded the corner. The man you had been staring at for the past ten minutes. 

“M...morning,” you stuttered, turning bright red as he patted the bench beside them. He was handsome, in a rugged way. With his plump, cracked lips, and his strong chin. He was at least five years older than you, but you weren’t exactly sure how old he was. 

“Y/N, I wanted to talk with you,” he started once you sat down. “How did you think this summer went?” 

“I think it went well,” you mumbled, glancing at him quickly before glancing down again. 

“I think it did too,” he agreed. “Especially because you were here. Y/N, don’t think I didn’t notice how much you did for this camp. You were amazing.”

You blushed. “Thanks, but I just did my job.” 

He stood up, patting you on your back. “Y/N, you did much more than your job. And I hope that you felt comfortable coming to me for anything. Anything at all.” 

You looked into his blue eyes, wondering if you were just imagining things. Or maybe your camp leader was just as into you as you were into him. “Thanks, Misha.”

“No problem. And Y/N, come find me at the bonfire tonight.” With those words, he headed out to the door, ringing the bell to announce the start of the day. It was going to be a busy day. A hike, then packing before a bonfire with hot dogs and smores. The campers would head to bed, leaving the counselours with another hour or two to hang out before the bonfire would be extinguished, signaling the end of the camp. 

The day passed as quickly as you had imagined. You and Tricia led your age group of kids on a hike to the nearby waterfall, enjoying the cool water as you splashed around in the shallows. Afterward, you had helped the campers back up their belongings, making sure they didn’t forget any of their artwork or the socks that seemed to be scattered around everywhere.

As the sun started to settle, you could feel your nerves rise. The bonfire was being built as you spoke, and you were anxious about seeing Misha again.

“Y/N, once again, you seem lost in thought. Is it our blue-eyed leader again,” Tricia teased as she carried a tray full of hotdogs to the picnic tables. Your hands were full of graham crackers and marshmallows. 

“Tricia, if I tell you something, you can’t make a big deal out of it,” you whispered. “But Misha, he seemed to want to meet up during the bonfire tonight.”

She squealed, almost dropping her tray. “Y/N, I knew he had a thing for you! That’s why he always gave you jobs close to him.” 

You shook your head. “No, it’s because I’m one of the senior counselors,” you argued, but she just chuckled. 

The bonfire started, and all thoughts of Misha were pushed from your mind as you fed all the hungry campers. He was on the other side of the bonfire, joking with some of the counselors, looking over at you every now and then.

It was almost ten o’clock by the time you had all your campers back in the cabin and tucked into their beds. After making them promise to stay in bed, you headed back out, Tricia by your side. “Y/N, go get him,” Tricia teased before heading over to Taylor, the counselor she had been eyeing all summer. 

You saw Misha standing by himself, away from the rest of the group, almost completely swallowed by shadows. “Hey Misha,” you spoke awkwardly, your boots making no sound in the soft dirt.

“I was wondering when you would show back up,” he turned to face you, blocking your view of the bonfire. “I couldn’t help but wonder if I scared you off.” 

Your mouth suddenly dry, you shook your head. “No, just unruly campers.” 

“Good, good,” he answered, his eyes searching your face, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “And did you enjoy the bonfire?” 

Instead of answering, you nodded. “Y/N, I…, I hope you had fun this summer.”

You nodded again, wondering if he was just as nervous as you were. “Good. And did you get everything done that you wanted to?” 

“Misha, I don’t know how to answer that.” 

He ran his finger down his mouth, taking in a deep breath. “Sorry, I’ve just..I’ve been trying to get up the nerve for days, and now that the camp is almost over, I keep kicking myself.” 

He took a step closer. “Misha…,”

“Y/N, before I take this any farther, how old are you?” 

“20,” you answered, butterflies swarming your stomach. “But Misha, what does that have to do with anything?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but instead closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to cup the back of your neck, gently pressing his lips to yours. You hadn’t expected the move, and you stood there stiffly, your lips unmoving beneath his. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered when he pulled back. “I know I shouldn’t have done that, but I’ve wanted to for so long.” 

You were trying to find the words to say when someone called Misha’s name. He smiled apologetically before jogging back to the bonfire, leaving you in the dark, your mind swirling. Misha liked you, as much as you liked him, and you had a choice to make. You could pretend the kiss never happened. You were leaving in the morning anyway. Or you could give in to your desires, and make this camp one you would never forget. 

You found yourself moving towards Misha’s cabin, your legs making the decision for you. He was still talking to his friends, but you knew his cabin would probably be unlocked. Stepping inside, you found the light switch, turning the lights on. 

Misha’s cabin was much cleaner than you had expected. His suitcases were all packed, sitting on the dresser. His bed was made, everything put in its rightful place. 

You could feel the nerves starting to get the better of you, and you turned back to the door when it opened and Misha stepped inside. “Y/N. I was hoping you would be here.” 

“I wasn’t sure, but I..,” you stuttered, before Misha’s body was pressed against your own, his hands tangled in your hair as his lips moved against yours. Your hands slid down, grasping at the waistband of his jeans, pulling him closer. 

When your lungs felt like they would burst, Misha pulled away, both of your breathing heavily. “Clothes off,” he ordered, his shirt already flying over his head, showing off his toned upper body as he closed the blinds. “On the bed.” 

You were grateful that he had taken over, and you hurried to comply. You were dressed simply in your camp shirt and knit shorts, and they landed in a pile by the bed, leaving you in your sports bra and panties. Nervously, you pulled the bra over your head, but you were too unsure to slip out of your panties. 

“Everything,” he ordered, already down to his boxers, his erection outlined in the lime green fabric. Seeing the crazy boxer took away some of your anxiety, and you slipped out of your panties before climbing on the bed. 

While you decided whether you should sit or lay down, Misha had moved over, pushing against your shoulder until you laid down. “Beautiful. You are just stunning Y/N.” Misha exclaimed, making you blush. You had never really considered yourself beautiful, being what your grandmother loved to call plump. 

Misha ran his hand along your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. You watched as his callused fingers trailed against your hip bone before moving back up to brush against your lip. “I want to taste you. All of you.”

Gulping, you gripped the quilt as his head moved down, his dry lips rough against your breast. His free hand kneaded your other breast, tugging at your nipple until it pebbled. 

You squirmed against the quilt as Misha paid homage to your body, fulfilling his promise to taste every part of you. His lips slid across your skin, his thumbs circling your nipples as he settled in between your legs, his shaggy hair brushing against your inner thighs. He smiled up at you before he dipped his head, tasting your very corse.

When you couldn’t handle his attention anymore, you tugged at his hair, moving him up until his hips were pressed against yours. “Please Misha,” you begged, tugging at the waistband of his boxers. Grunting, he slipped them down, barely getting them down over his cheeks before he was settling back between your thighs. His thick head lined up against your entrance. Reaching out, he grasped your hand before he eased his hips forward, slowly sinking into your heat. 

Biting your bottom lip, your hips rose to meet his, moaning when he was fully sheathed inside you. His head was thrown back, his hip bones more prominent than before he began moving his hips slowly. Your instinct took over, your hips moving to meet his, your breaths coming short and fast. He was heavy and thick inside you, stretching your walls as he set up a rhythm. 

Grabbing your hips, he pulled you to the end of the bed, planting his feet on the floor, giving himself more leverage as his movements became faster, more erratic. His grip was bruising as his lips crushed against yours. All the sensations were too much, and you came with a cry into his mouth. 

As you slowly came down, Misha snapped his hips faster, before he came with a grunt, his hipbones pressed tight against you. 

Once both of you could finally breathe, Misha slipped into the bathroom, taking a washcloth and gently wiping you clean before pulling you under the comforters. ��Why didn’t we do that sooner?” He asked, holding you tight against his bare chest, running his hand up and down your arm. 

“I wish we had,” you sighed. “I wish we had more time. But you’re going back to your Art Teaching job, and I’ve got college to think about.”

Misha pushed you down onto your back, smiling wickedly. “Well, at least we have all night.”

Misha/Cas Tags: @abtmnt  @a-girl-who-loves-disney @castiel-savvy18 @jeepangel @mysteriously-lost @pastapizzacheesedragon @randomstuff-idontwannatalkboutit @shadowhunter7 @sortaathief @tacklesackles @trixie537 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @unabashedsoul97

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove   @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl   @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280   @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek  @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice   @maui137 @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93  @nanie5   @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25   @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman   @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek   @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @wecantgiggleitsafandom @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

[timetravelingheart]

Consequences Chapter Three: A.M. Imagine

“And then,” Mitch had to stop to catch his breath from his laughter, “he spilled her own drink on her!” 

Auston sat, arms crossed, with a dark look across his features, while the guys who were supposed to be his best friends laughed like loons at his expense in his own living room. 

When the four fools finally caught their breaths and their laughter subsided, they turned to their now stewing friend who looked like steam could start coming out of his ears at any point. 

“Are you guys done?” he spat. The four guys - Mitch, William, Kasperi, and Morgan - tried to keep straight faces before tumbling into fits of laughter once again. 

Only Mitch had seen the little exchange between Auston and Tessa the previous night, so he felt it was only necessary to catch the rest of the guys up on the events. 

“Great, thanks guys, thanks so much,” Auston stood up and stomped into his kitchen to get another drink. “So fucking happy I get to call you guys my friends.”

“Man,” Willy started, wiping tears from his eyes, “how, and I say this with love, how did you manage to fuck up again?”

“Oh, oh, tell them about the ‘no’ is a full sentence part! That was golden,” Mitch started bouncing up and down, about to get to the second best part of the story. 

“Why don’t you tell it, you seem to know it so well?” Auston mumbled, grabbing waters from the fridge and tossing them fairly aggressively towards the vultures in his living room. 

“So, Matts asks her why she said no and she basically balks at why she even needed to give him a reason and says, ‘no’ is a full sentence and that she doesn’t owe him anything,” Mitch explained, still feeling such an odd sense of pride for a girl he barely knew. “Steph thought that part was amazing!”

Of course he told Steph, Auston thought. Nothing stays a secret in this team. 

“’No’ is a full sentence,” Morgan mused. “I love that. Fuck. I’m rooting for you man, but damn, good for her. What a woman.”

“That sounds like something my mom would say whenever my sisters said they felt guilty about turning a guy down who had a crush on them,” William added. “It’s such a good line.”

“So now what happens?” Kapanen asked, turning from his spot on the sofa to look at Auston who was still standing in the kitchen. “How did it all end?”

“I just asked for her to give me a chance and she said she’d think about it,” Auston shrugged, keen on downplaying his own anxieties and insecurities about what she meant by that. 

“Are you going to call her?” Morgan asked, genuinely curious. They liked to take the piss out of their friends, but they still rooted for them too. 

“He didn’t get it,” Mitch piped up as Auston hesitated. 

“What?” the other three exclaimed in unison. 

“How will you contact her?” William asked.

“She works for MLSE, right? So her office isn’t far away. I figured I would send her flowers in a couple of days,” Auston took a sip of his water as he sat back down. He was quite proud to have thought of that gesture. 

“And then what?” Mitch asked. 

“What do you mean and then what? I’ll send her the flowers, add my number to the card, and wait for her to call me.”

Auston was actually a little offended at the scoffs he heard come from each of his friends who were now staring back at him. 

“What?”

“You think you’re capable of calmly waiting for her to call you?” Morgan looked disbelieving. 

“I mean, how long does someone usually wait to thank someone after they send them flowers as a romantic gesture?” Auston shrugged, thinking his plan was foolproof.

__

His plan was not foolproof. In fact, his plan seemed to be absolutely full of holes, Auston couldn’t help but think as he moved aimlessly around his apartment, exactly 48 hours after he had sent the flowers. It turned out that Morgan was right - he was incapable of waiting calmly. 

And so, he did a thing he had been trying to talk himself out of for the past ten hours at least. He grabbed his car keys and drove himself over to her office where he figured she was probably working that afternoon. 

Desperate times.

He got into the building and onto her floor with ease, everyone obviously recognizing him and assuming he was there to discuss future events or volunteering opportunities. 

He took a couple of deep breaths before he knocked on the door with her nameplate. He waited until he heard a gentle, ‘come in’ from the other side. When he walked in, he saw a stressed-out looking Tessa standing at her desk and sorting what looked to be hundreds of papers. When she looked up at him, the look of surprise was evident and Auston immediately felt like he made a mistake. 

“Auston? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

He stepped forward, closing the door behind him. 

“Yeah, I just - I was just in the area and wanted to stop in to say hi,” he lied. He gestured to the papers on her desk. “It looks like maybe I caught you at a busy time?”

“Yeah, it would seem that way, wouldn’t it?” she bit sarcastically. At the hurt look that crossed his face, a wave of guilt moved through her. “I’m sorry. I’m stressed and I haven’t eaten yet. I get mean when I’m hungry.”

Auston laughed at that. 

“Hangry? I can go grab you lunch if you’d like? Or maybe you can take a break to regroup and we can get lunch together?”

“I don’t think so. I’m probably just going to Postmates something. I have too much to do for an event coming up.”

Before Auston could reply, her office phone rang. She held up a finger to tell him to wait while she took the call. He took this as an opportunity to look around her office. He saw photos of people he assumed to be family, as well as some of campers and other staff he recognized from Launchpad. He couldn’t help but feel slighted when he didn’t see the flowers anywhere, only to wonder if she brought them home, and if she did, where did she keep them? He was lost in his thoughts when he heard her clear her throat. 

“Looking for anything specific over there?” she teased, still a little tension in her voice and in her shoulders. 

“I was actually wondering where you keep the flowers I sent you,” he retorted. He watched as her face fell slightly. If he had learned anything about Tessa in their few interactions, it was that she was not good at hiding her emotions. At all. And if he was reading her correctly, the flowers did not have the desired effect he had wanted. 

“I took them home. Thank you for sending them, they were beautiful.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“Come on, Tess,” he pushed, using a nickname he had yet to hear anyone else call her, “most people would message or call the person who sent the flowers to thank them. I got radio silence from you.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. That was rude of me. I guess I just wasn’t sure what would come of us talking on the phone.”

“Well, I was hoping that I would be able to ask you out again. Not even as a date, but just a hang out.”

“With the hope of it eventually leading to a date?”

“Yes.”

“Auston -”

“Tess, I sent you the flowers because I like you and I think you deserve to have something beautiful. And yeah, I definitely wanted to send you something so that when you saw them you would think of me. But I also wanted to show you that I’m trying here for you. I’m in this, for you. I’m not just trying to get into your pants here.”

Tessa looked him over hesitantly as if she were searching for any visible signs that he was full of shit. When it didn’t seem like she found any, she let out a full body sigh and plopped into her desk chair. Auston took a seat across from her and waited patiently. It was her turn and he had to remember to give her time to reply before he word-vomited all over again. While you could read every emotion that crossed Tessa’s face, she was thoughtful with her words. Auston was almost the exact opposite. Years of media training helped him hide his reactions and emotions, but he often had to remind himself to think about his words carefully so he didn’t spew out the first thing that came to mind. 

So he waited patiently, biting his tongue, as he waited for her response. 

“Okay, here’s the thing,” she clasped her hands out in front of her, as if she were about to engage in some sort of negotiation and not just a conversation about a date. “You can’t send flowers to my office. And you can’t just show up unannounced to my office. It’s not appropriate.”

“Not app-”

“It’s just not. Do you know how hard it is to be a woman working in the sports industry? I don’t even have anything to do with anything you guys do on the ice and I still get questioned about it. I cannot under any circumstances have my position within this company be linked to you. I have worked too hard for too long to get this job and I absolutely love it. I’m not going to risk that just because you think you might be interested in me-”

“I know I’m-”

“When I first started volunteering for this organization, I was asked fairly regularly, both seriously and mockingly, if I was only doing it to meet a Maple Leaf or a Raptor or a Blue Jay or an athlete from whatever the fuck other male-dominated league or sport there is in this city.

And when I got a job here? Fuck, that was even worse. And now, not only am I asked if I want to date an athlete, I’m also asked if I can introduce some of you to the girls at school. 

THAT’S how people still view women who work even remotely close to a male-dominated sport. I work with children. I am here for the children. So if you come in here on a day when an event is not planned and you send me flowers, it starts to look like I’m that person people expect me to be. I become the stereotype. And I refuse to have that happen.”

Auston waited to make sure she was really finished before responding. He reached forward and wrapped his large hand around her clasped ones that had now gone white. At his touch, her fingers released and she let him hold her hands in his. 

“Tess, I’m sorry. I know I should know all of this, and I know it’s a cop-out, but it honestly never crossed my mind that anyone would think anything. I just wanted you to have my number so we could communicate. And I’m sorry that me being here makes you uncomfortable. I’m an idiot, okay?”

Tessa let out a little laugh and Auston’s heart twitched. 

“No, I’m overreacting a little. I do that sometimes,” she laughed, taking her hands back and running them through her hair. “I was just letting years of judgement cloud any appreciation I could have had for what was a very sweet gesture.”

“You think I’m sweet?” Auston grinned. 

“That’s not what I said.”

“You think I’m sweet!” he hummed, grinning even wider now. Tessa couldn’t help but grin back, dimples on full display. 

“I take it back. You are an idiot.” 

Auston just laughed and continued to beam at her. 

“Yeah, but I think you’re starting to warm up to me anyway, so what does that make you?”

“Also probably a bit of an idiot, but here we are. I really do have work to do so are we done here?” 

“There’s just one more piece of business first,” he stated formally. She looked at him with questioning eyes until he pulled his phone out of his pocket dramatically. He held it out to her. 

“If you give me what I came here for, and nothing more or less, I will leave in peace,” he stated, still formal, even more dramatic. 

She eyed him carefully. If she gave him her number, she knew she would likely walk right into this trap he was setting up and she was pretty certain he also knew it. 

And yet, for some reason, it still felt like the best decision she ever made when she reached for the phone and put in her number when she saw the way his eyes lit up, as if he were actually surprised his plan had worked. When she handed it back to him, she felt her own phone vibrate almost instantly. She looked down at the ID, seeing the name and number she had put into her phone two days ago despite her refusal to actually call it. She looked up at him, shaking her head and trying to hold back a laugh.

“Had to make sure you weren’t giving me a fake,” he winked at her as he stood up and made his way to the door. “Talk to you soon, Tess.”

When the door closed behind him, she dropped her head to her desk with a small thud. 

What was she getting herself into?

[mechadress]

Saw a literary challenge to write about one of your average days in quarantine. They picked Tuesday May 12th. Since all of my days keep blending together, I thought it would help me set a benchmark for how I handled quarantine. So here it is-

May 12th 2020,

My alarm goes off at 7am. I roll over to turn it off and promptly go back to sleep. This was a normal practice even before the world shut down. I don't have set hours at work, but I prefer to start around 8am. Since my work computer is only across the apartment, the motivation to wake up before I absolutely have to is extremely low.

8am rolls around and I can't bring myself to leave the bed yet. It all seems so pointless as no one seems to care what hours I keep and I don't have any early morning meetings. I scroll through Facebook and Tumblr on my phone, I check my email more times than I really need to, and pet whichever cat is closest, usually Sierra. I find a post from a page that I follow that talks about Victorian parlor games and I share it to the Steampunk group I administer. There hasn't been much content in the group for awhile. I wonder if it's because steampunk isn't as popular as it once was or if no one has anything to say. It gets a few likes and one 'Care' emoji. I think it's because it indicates that people miss hanging out together.

Around 8:15 I need to use the toilet, which is enough to get me out of bed and sign into my work computer. CY yells out from his work station at the living room table to remind me to buy the camper table and a spray bottle he wanted for grilling. I order them from Amazon and feel guilty about getting nonessential items in the middle of a pandemic. I spend the first few hours of work scrolling through FB or Tumblr and knitting. While I knit I watch an hour and half long youtube video from ContraPoints about different types of second-hand embarrassment or 'cringe'. I identify a lot with what she says.

I am knitting a pair of socks simply because I have the yarn and I've never done it before. I tested out the gauge to make sure I had the right sized needles and I do. They are long dpns that were given to me by CY's mother once she realized I enjoyed knitting. Apparently she used to knit as well, but it would hurt her hands so she gave up on it. I had tried to use the dpns as intended, even looking up a video and practicing a few times, but I kept dropping stitches and getting annoyed with them. I eventually decided to order a circular needle from Amazon to use instead. I felt very guilty about this since there's all sorts of post-people and delivery people out there who are at risk moving all these boxes around, and here I'm ordering a stupid pair of needles that are a duplicate size to ones I own, but I just don't want to use. The circular needles are extremely nice and easy to work with and it is a pleasure to knit the socks. I still use the dpns as a stitch holder while I knit the heel. Today I'm connecting the insole and knitting along the foot. It's easy and enjoyable work especially after already completing the first sock.

I eat a prepackaged ube cake while I drink my tea and appreciate the nice pairing of flavors.

I feel bad about not getting more of my actual work done. However, I can't bring myself to concentrate on anything related to work. I keep moving my mouse around every 10 or so minutes so it looks like I'm active.

An old D&D friend of mine named Sam posts on FB about how he is proud of his company for continuing to let people work from home despite Ohio loosening some of the Stay at Home restrictions. I reply "We were told to expect to work from home until at least August. I'm grateful since it's one less thing to think about." Sam and I go back a forth a bit more, expressing gratitude and an interest in meeting up again once its safe. It's the first I've interacted with him in about 5 years and it makes me glad to hear from him.

I start lunch early because I don't have anything better to do. For lunch I make myself and CY a sandwich. We have some really good Italian bread we got from the grocery store that we can make into a decent replica of a Philadelphia style hoagie. I already chopped up the veggies so I can just take them out of the fridge and start layering them on. CY likes his sandwich with mayo and turkey. I don't like handling either of those things, but it's easy enough. I make his first then make a veggie version for myself. We use the new hoagie oil which isn't as bad as I had originally feared, but it isn't as good as the name brand one we had before. Pity they were out of it at the store when we went.

My 2019 tax refund from Ohio lands into my investment account. I plan to use it to invest in assorted stocks I feel will bounce back once the economy recovers.

After lunch I watch a few more youtube videos while I knit. One is a career review of the one-hit wonder band 'Living in a Box' and another is a recording of 'the world's worst singer' Florence Foster Jenkins. I had found an article that talked about people who had a medical condition which made them unable to percieve how poorly they performed a skill. In her case, she was a renowned as a very poor singer who believed she was very good and people would come to watch her ironically. I try to watch a congressional hearing where they discuss the health crisis with Dr. Fauci, but it's too depressing so I stop.

My anxiety related to work continues to grow. I figure that I'm not able to bring myself to do any investigation on my own, but I'm still able to ask people questions. I reach out through Skype to a colleague who I believe had worked with this business group before. I am surprised by how helpful she is and how quickly she is to respond. We get on a call and she shows me some reporting she did that is similar and directs me towards a table she thinks would have the values I'm looking for. She recommends another colleague to talk to and I schedule a meeting with him for the next day since he was busying for the rest of today. I feel instantly better. My anxiety about my work plummets and I find the energy and motivation to start investigating another task I've been given. I quickly find 1) the task was way easier than I initially estimated and 2) the data I want isn't available where I thought it would be. I even find out a new way to pull code out of Tableau and I excitedly share my discovery with another colleague. Around this time it's getting close to 4pm, my usual time to stop working and just become available for questions, should anyone need to reach out to me. I feel better about myself and allow myself to take more pleasure in my activities.

I start to prepare for the online D&D game I host each week, Tuesdays at 7:30pm. One of my favorite things about quarantine is that it's given me the time and ability to play again. I've missed having a regular D&D game badly. We had a very good game the previous week and I'm excited to make new material for this new game. I decide to include a villain who is a Banksia Man, one of the anatognists from the Australian fairy-tale Snugglepot and Cuddlepie. CY had helped me over the weekend come up with a cool backstory for him. I take notes and save some pictures so I can display them to my players through screen share.

A group of our friends are doing a Plank Challenge while we try to stay in shape while in quarantine. Colette set up a FB group with a list of exercises to do for 13 days. Each day, you do your assigned exercise then you post to the group to indicate you completed your day's tasks. CY and I made a point to work out for a bit each day after work and were already doing a fair amount of planks so the challenge as it was written was too easy for us. We tend to double the amount of time for each exercise or we double up the reps. My tasks for today are 30 seconds each of planks, rocking planks, hip dips, and up downs. I do all the exercises straight through twice with a short break in between sets then post to FB in the group.

After doing planks, CY and I go out to a nearby park to walk for a bit. We go for about 2.5 miles. It's a nice day, nearly 60 degrees. I am happy to see wild flowers starting to sprout up and the leaves coming back to the trees. Most people in the park are polite and keep their distance. It's rare to see people wearing masks while they are walking or running, so it almost feels normal.

We make it back with enough time for me to start getting my notes ready for game. CY offers to make me food and asks what I'd like to eat. We had just gone to Trader Joe's the weekend before and gotten a truly ridiculous amount of frozen food. He insists I pick something from the freezer to eat. In the end we decide he'll cut up the jackfruit crab cakes and make them into 'seafood tacos'. He even makes some sriracha ranch to go with it. The crab cake is surprisingly greasy, but it's very tasty and filling. Not sure I'd get it again though.

I go into the gaming group call and we quickly realize that only Gene and Aaron are going to be able to join game. We don't think it will be enough to continue the campaign I prepared for so I offer to do a one-shot just for them. I show them a cute rpg I found awhile ago called 'Fuck! It's Dracula' and we give it a shot. We have fun but I feel a bit unprepared since I have to ab lib most of the plot and come up with secret plans on the fly so they can be betrayed by their NPCs. The game is much shorter than I initially anticipated and we finish up around 9:30pm, much earlier than normal. I don't feel like Aaron and Gene enjoyed this game as much as they would have enjoyed the larger campaign I made, but at least we got to play together for a bit. I appreciate the social contact at the very least.

We dismiss ourselves from game and I join CY on the couch. He is watching some cooking tutorial videos, trying to teach himself how to smoke brisket properly. I go back and forth between different apps on my phone, not really paying attention to the TV. I try to read for a bit, but we eventually settle down to sleep before I get very far. I feel good about how the day went and I'm proud of myself for getting work done on the sock and researching my projects. I feel better about my life than I did when I first woke up this morning.

[panda-noosh]

Hiraeth {part seven}{demigod!Lance x reader}

Words: 5k

Summary: Your life changed forever that day in the forest. The day the voices got too much. The day that single word brought you to what felt like the very brink of death - that was until Lance McClain, son of Poseidon, arrived to take you home.

Genre: percyjackson!au - angst

Notes: part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 8 - part 9 - epilogue - yes bois 

—-

Hiraeth - (n) a homesickness for a place you can’t return to, or that never was.

Chapter 7

   You were only kept in the infirmary for a few more days after Hades had left camp, his parting words doing nothing to soothe the anxiety you were now feeling like a heavy boulder placed in your stomach.

    The ambrosia had done its job of healing you fairly well. The pain was nearly completely wiped out from your side, leaving behind only the faintest of scars etching from your rib cage. Hunk had been hesitant to allow you free range of the camp after taking such a harsh hit, but nobody else in the Apollo cabin seemed to think it necessary to keep you cooped up in the infirmary any longer than you already had been.

   And so, you were tossed out into the real world all over again, all on your own.

    It was a harsh reality to awaken to. After talking to a new person every other hour, somebody jabbing at your side, asking you how you were feeling, if you needed any more ambrosia to get you through the day, it was a very wild turn to suddenly step foot outside of the infirmary to be greeted with nothing but pure hostility.

   The air was awful. It hung around you, suffocating and heavy. People were no longer just trying to ignore you – not like how they had ignored you whenever it had been Coran they were accusing you of killing. This was Slav. The Slav, the man who made everybody laugh at dinner, the man who could apparently make everybody smile – no. They were no longer just ignoring you. They were making their hate for you known.

   You walked through camp with your head down, trying your hardest to ignore the jeers and yells of the people around you. People from the Ares cabin had even gone as far as throwing fruit in your direction. Lucky enough, Chiron had been walking past at that exact moment and had managed to swipe the food from the air before it was bound to hit you directly in the face. He had ushered you on quickly, not giving you a chance to see the telling off he had given to the campers in question.

   Not as if you cared. You wanted away from the scene as quickly as possible, not seeing a point in sticking around to anger them any more than they already were.

    You could handle the jeers and the insults from the other cabins – they didn't know what they were talking about. They already had preconceived ideas of you due to the whole Coran situation, due to you being the daughter of Hades – it was Lance's attitude towards you that made you feel as if you were being ripped apart.

    He had every reason to be ignoring you, and you told yourself that on a constant loop as you walked through camp all on your own. You had hurt him, had shattered the trust you both had so delicately built up for one another – he had every reason in the world to not want to speak to you, but it didn't make it any easier. You often walked past him, watched him laughing and joking with Lotor as if there had never been any tension between the two of them in the first place. He would ignore you when you walked past him, but you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head, could hear the falter in his laughter whenever your presence was made known by Lotor's hollering in your direction.

    You never bothered to turn back and face him. You weren't entirely sure you would be able to hold yourself together if you met his eyes.

    Five days after you had been released from the infirmary, you arrived to dinner early. The only other people there were the satyrs, who were busy setting out the food for the campers who were due to arrive soon. You grinned warily at Marco, a satyr with curly brown hair and a smile that could have blinded.

    “You're here early,” he called over to you before tossing you a plate. You yelped, fumbling with it for a moment before finally tugging it into your chest. “Sorry. I forget that you guys don't have good reflexes.”

   “It's fine,” you grunted, slumping down at the Hades table. Marco walked over to you, leaned against the edge of it to continue the conversation. “I've got nothing better to do; thought I might as well get to my seat early.”

    Marco raised a brow. “I don't mean to burst your bubble, but it's not like the Hades table is gonna be running out of seats any time soon, sweetie.”

    “Yeah, well...”

   Marco pursed his lips as you glanced back down at the table with an awkward aura surrounding you; you knew it was there, knew he could feel it, but you struggled to pin it down. You felt awkward, felt as if every single heart wrenching emotion you had been feeling these past few weeks was showing through in full force.

    “What's got you so down, Y/N?” Marco asked suddenly.

   You looked up at him, feigning surprise. “Me? Nothing. Why?”

  “You just look a little lost, that's all,” he replied, lowering himself down on to the seat in front of you. “Don't think of me as a creep or nothing like that, but I've been watching you these past few weeks – since you came to camp, actually – and I can't help but notice that your moods kind of gone down since you first arrived – now, that doesn't usually happen. Usually it's the other way around.”

   “Just stress, Marco. Nothing you should be worrying about.”

  “Stress? How can you be stressed? You have a cabin all to yourself, no siblings to fight with, you've got Lance McClain wrapped around your finger-”

   That was when you winced.

   Marco noticed, his eyes darting open wide at the realisation; he had hit the nail on the head long before he had planned to, apparently. “Ooooh... Lance is causing you problems, huh?”

   You craned your neck, glancing at the buffet table behind him. “When do you think I can start getting my food?”

   Marco moved so he was taking up your line of vision. “What did he do? You two looked like two peas in a pod the last time I checked! I was rooting for you!”

    “Nothing happened,” you growled, slumping back on the bench and folding your arms over your chest. “We just – grew apart. That's what happens with humans, Marco.”

  Marco raised a brow. “In case you failed to see, sweetie, I am half-human. And I also have the brain of a human.”

  You sighed. “That's not what I meant-”

   “I know, I know.” Marco reached forward and placed a gentle, fur covered hand on top of your arm. You closed your eyes – you hadn't realised just how badly touch starved you had been over the past few days. With everybody ignoring you, you had been completely on your own, and you had once believed yourself to be able to handle it. You were alone for the majority of your life, but never before had you been surrounded by so many people, people who should have related to you on some level, and felt so alone.

   “You really shouldn't be being so kind to me,” you croaked out. Marco's grip tightened slightly. “If anybody sees you talking to me, they're gonna think you're some kind of murderer-sympathiser or something. I don't want you to have to deal with them yelling insults at you. Hunk and Pidge are already going through that enough as it is.”

   Marco scoffed in amusement. “You think I give a shit what them campers think? God, I've never met a more annoying bunch of people in my life, I'll tell you that much. Think they're all that and more just because their parents have a little bit of gold blood in them – pfft. Wait till they get thrown out into the real world, then they'll know. Then they'll know.”

  You couldn't help but giggle. Marco looked up at you and smiled, gently patting your arm before withdrawing his hand and placing it back in his lap.

   “Don't you worry about them other campers, sweetie. From what I've heard about you amongst the forest creatures, you're the toughest son of a bitch this camp has seen in a while, and not just because of your parentage.” He leaned forward. “Is it true that you used to live on the streets? That you know Romelle?”

   Your heartbeat thundered out of nowhere, shock spiralling through your body at the use of Romelle's name in such a casual setting – how did this satyr know who Romelle was?

   You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. You could only stare at him with wide eyes, your hand clenching the edge of the table as you tried to process exactly what it was he had just said.

   He shook his head as if your silence was answer enough, running his hands through his curly hair. His ring got caught on his horns and he grunted as he manoeuvred the jewellery out of his hair.

  “Incredible,” he said breathily. “Next time you see her, tell her Marco misses her. She hasn't stopped by in ages.”

   You slowly shook your head. “What are you-”

   “Oh, christ,” Marco suddenly hissed, shooting up from his chair without a second mention of what he had just been speaking about. You whirled around, spotting the large group of campers emerging from the training fields towards the dinner hall. “I should get back to work. Remember what I said, sweetie – don't let the campers get to you. They're all wimps anyway.” And before you could stop him, try as you might, he had darted off back towards the buffet table to finish up helping the other satyrs dish out the evening meals.

   You stared at the back of his head, unsure of how to react to what he had just said – first of all, how did the forest creatures even know that you knew Romelle? And what did Marco mean when he said she hadn't stopped by in ages? You couldn't recall a single time Romelle had stopped by – it didn't seem likely. In fact, it seemed almost impossible. Last time you had asked, you had been informed that the camp was covered by a shield that stopped mortal eyes from peering in.

    You swallowed thickly, appetite suddenly lost. You could hear Lotor jeering behind you, his stupid jokes followed abruptly by Lance's angelic laughter.

    You had enough to worry about – you would ask Chiron about the subject later on. Until then, you had been ordered to keep your head down, and that's exactly what you would do.

   ---

   The lake was always prettiest at night, you had found.

   You had only been down here a few times in the past whenever the sun had fallen beneath the mountains, leaving camp Half-Blood in an eerie yet peaceful sway of darkness. After the incident with Lotor witnessing you use your powers, you had been fended away from the place after dark, but you saw no reason in being afraid of it now. Not whenever you had nothing else to lose.

   The campers had all shifted to bed for the night, the camp now cast in silence. You had made your way to the Hades cabin after dinner, hidden away until the rest of the camp fell silent, and then you made your way down to the awaiting waters which you now sat in front of, knees bulked up to your chest and chin resting upon them.

    The air was so still. The faint smell of barbecue smoke was present in the air from the dinner that had gone on only a few hours prior. The waves were blowing gently with the slight breeze Chiron had allowed through the shield as a way to help the campers sleep; you hadn't taken him up on that, choosing to instead stay up to organise your thoughts before they got too muddled.

   That's what it felt like. It truly felt as if you were on the verge of a breakdown, like you would suddenly collapse out of nowhere at any given moment; it was impending upon you, and you knew that. You could feel it building up in your chest, refusing to show you any mercy. Not like you expected it to. With everything going on right now, it was a miracle you were able to sit by the edge of the lake and still have coherent thoughts.

    You hollowed out your cheeks and let the air pop out of them. A water nymph giggled at the noise. You cast your eyes in their direction, only for them to squeak at being caught and dive back beneath the waves in their attempts to hide from you; you had no doubt in your mind that they would report back to Chiron that you had been sat up past dark, but you couldn't find the energy or the will to care at the moment.

    You thought about Lance. He was the last person you had been here with, the last person who had witnessed this lake with you. He had been happy then, joking around and jostling with you – until you had lost all sense of control and kissed him. That was truly the point where things shattered between the two of you – you had let your feelings get ahead of you, and there was no coming back from such a thing. Not now. Not after the trust had been shattered, leaving nothing in its wake.

    As if your thoughts had summoned him, Lance's voice emerged from the trees behind you.

   You shot up from your spot by the lake, startled by the sudden intrusion. He was laughing, saying something through a mouthful of giggles that was quickly met with a response – the response of Lotor.

   “Son of a bitch,” you hissed, trying to act quickly. They had yet to break through the tree line – you had a chance to hide yourself, to get away before they-

   You could think about it no longer. Their voices were getting louder, a clear sign that they were approaching the lake much faster than you would have liked. Not even thinking about the pain that would surely spiral through you in a moments time, you dove behind the nearest tree and landed with a thump amongst the nettles and the brambles; you clenched your teeth, the scar on your side flaring with a dull pain that reminded you immediately of the spear that had pierced you only a week prior; the man who had held that spear was walking towards the lake now, your best friend at his side, laughing as if nothing had happened.

    You curled your knees into your chest, biting down on your tongue to stop the whimpers of pain from escaping you.

    Lance ducked down by the edge of the lake and dipped his hand into the water. When he brought it loose from the waves, his fingers were dripping and he gently swiped the water over his forehead. Lotor wrinkled up his nose.

   “That's quite unhygienic,” said Lotor. “Gods only know what's been in that water.”

   “Actually, I know exactly what's been in that water,” replied Lance. “And it's nothing gross. Now, come here. You've still got blood on your neck from your duelling session.”

  “I'm fine,” Lotor grunted, but Lance was having none of it. You watched on, a sick feeling arising in your stomach as your best friend reached towards Lotor and summoned a puddle of water into his palm that he delicately splashed across the Ares campers neck.

   Lotor shuddered, gritting his teeth as if the prospect of having lake water clean him was truly and utterly revolting. You could see Lance trying to hold back laughter at the mans reaction – he had once told you that he found it particularly humorous to see people shy away from earths natural elements. He had always believed water to be the most beautiful of things.

    “There,” Lance said. “Wasn't so bad after all, was it?”

   “It's disgusting,” said Lotor. “But I suppose you would never understand – not with your father being who he is.”

    Lance clenched his jaw, hiding his frustration. The topic of his father was one you knew to be a risky one – one you were better off leaving behind in a conversation with him. You half expected Lance to start lashing out, perhaps telling Lotor to shut his mouth, but the argument never came. The lake was filled with a heavy silence as Lance kneeled back down at the lakes edge and gently ran his fingers along the water, softly beckoning for some fish to come to his fingers. They did so, and he smiled gently to himself, as if the sea creatures were a source of comfort for him.

    “You never told me what happened the day you stumbled across Slav,” Lotor said suddenly. Lance drew in a sharp breath – even you did, hidden behind the tree with your side still aching.

    Lance looked at Lotor over his shoulder. “I gave my statement to Chiron. There's nothing more I can do about it.”

   “That's not what I asked.” Lotor kneeled down beside him. “Were the black veins on his skin?”

    “I don't know, Lotor. I didn't really-”

   “Because you have to agree with me, Lance, that those black veins can come from one person and one person only,” Lotor continued, his voice deathly quiet now. Lance wasn't looking at him, instead keeping his eyes firm on the waters surface. “Only a child of Hades would be able to do something like that, and there is only one demigod child of the god of the underworld. It might be a tough pill for you to swallow, but there will have to come a day where you face the facts.”

   Lotor leaned forward then, so close to Lance that his sharp chin could have very well rested upon his shoulder. “You don't still believe she's innocent, do you?”

   Your heart sped up. Lance was silent for a moment – a moment too long. You felt the tears spring to your eyes, felt the sudden urge to throw yourself out from behind the tree and run as far as you could suddenly overwhelm you.

   But then Lance was shaking his head. “I don't think she's a killer, Lotor. I spent weeks with her, and she – she just isn't a murderer.”

    Lotor's eyes flashed with what could only be described as anger, as if his plans to get Lance to turn against you had been officially soiled. “You're serious? You're truly, deadly serious right now – after every piece of evidence you've been given, you're still protecting her?”

   “I'm not protecting anyone,” Lance said. “I'm just telling you the truth! First of all, she wasn't powerful enough to do that kind of damage-”

   “This coming from the man who was a victim to her powers during Capture the Flag only a week ago!”

   “And you still managed to stab her in the side!” Lance suddenly exclaimed. “If she was truly as powerful as you keep making her out to be, then how did you manage to spear her, huh?”

    “She wasn't paying attention,” Lotor growled. “And I'm a powerful man when it comes to battle – it's my element. It's how I was raised.”

    “Yeah, well, Y/N was raised on the streets.” Lance stood up then, tugging at his jacket. “She wasn't taught to kill, alright? So get that idea out of your thick skull and maybe start looking into people who could be actual suspects.”

    Lotor made to say something, but he was cut off whenever Lance flicked his wrist and the lake exploded around him. Lotor cried out at the sudden shower of lake water that rained down upon him, but Lance didn't even look back as he walked away from the scene, making his way back up the track without so much as a glimmer of regret shining on his face.

   Lotor growled, running out of the fountain of water. He looked back at the lake only once, scowled to himself, before he was following Lance back up the path, leaving you all alone once again.

    Your heartbeat was loud and clear in your chest, thumping wildly. You perched yourself up onto your elbow, immediately dragging your shirt up so you could inspect the damage done to the previously healing injury – the ambrosia had stopped the bleeding, and you were fairly certain that no more than a scar had been left behind, but as you looked down at the injury now, you could see fresh dabs of blood dotting along your skin.

   You scowled. The pain wasn't unbearable yet, though you were dreading the walk to the Apollo cabin – you would ask for Hunk and nobody else. Hunk could see to you in your own cabin, and then you would be fine. You wouldn't have to confess as to where you had been, wouldn't have to tell anyone about what you had just overheard.

    Because it was crazy. Truly, utterly crazy the words you had just heard. You had felt for sure that Lance had turned against you, that perhaps Lotor had poisoned his brain, changed his opinions to work against you – that seemed like the most likely option. Why else would Lance be hanging around with him, acting as if they were best buddies? It didn't make any sense to you.

   As you stumbled up from the lake and made your way to the Apollo cabin, you couldn't help but feel a little lighter. The physical pain was increasing with every step you were taking, but the emotion pain had definitely dulled upon hearing that Lance wasn't entirely against you, that Lance was one of the few people who could see the sense in your innocence; you may very well have a chance after all.

   ----

   Hunk had kindly tended to your injuries without question – a mere raised eyebrow to which you replied with a shake of your head, and he had fallen silent.

   He had fed you ambrosia, made sure you were tucked nicely into bed before he was bidding you farewell and heading back to the Apollo cabin – you were falling asleep in a matter of minutes, the warmth of the ambrosia lulling you into unconsciousness quicker than you were used to.

   Perhaps it was the suddenness of it that induced the dream.

   At least, you were fairly certain it was a dream. In your head, that was all it could be; your brain growing bored and needing some images to entertain itself with. But if this was truly a dream, you had never experienced one quite so vivid, quite so realistic.

    You were at the lake again. It was just you and the soft whispering of the late night breeze, the chirping of the insects that bound around the trees and chased the streams of moonlight. For a moment, they were all you could see. You couldn't move, your body tucked away behind some leaves that did very little to obscure your vision but most definitely kept you hidden from outside onlookers.

    The alone time lasted only a few more minutes before a twig was snapping and the treeline was being shoved out of the way, revealing no other than Lance McClain.

   He seemed to be angry about something, his cheeks hollowed out and his perfectly shaped eyebrows slanted. He was stomping his feet rather than his usual graceful walk, and the water of the lake ripped violently as soon as he made his appearance.

   “That idiot,” he grunted to no one in particular, kicking a pebble into the water. “He doesn't even know what he's saying half the time – how can he just come out with this stuff and not know that he's making an absolute idiot of himself?”

   Lance groaned, ran his hands through his hair and slumped down by the lakes edge. You were half tempted to walk towards him, ask him what was wrong, offer him any form of comfort you could possibly give, but you found yourself unable to do so. It was as if you were stapled to the floor.

     You were forced to watch him for minutes on end as he ran his hands idly through his hair, grunting incoherent words to himself on a constant loop. It got to the point where you were ready to wake up, growing bored of the scene in front of you – why did your brain think this was a suitable sight? Why did your brain think this was enough to keep you occupied until morning, and why couldn't you wake up from it? You were well-aware you were dreaming – it should have been easy enough for you to just snap yourself awake.  

   Your desire to rise disappeared whenever the twigs snapped and Lotor made his first appearance of the night. You should have known, of course, that he would eventually arrive – there was nobody better at starting drama than Lotor.

    Lance didn't look up when he said, “Go back to camp, Lotor. I don't have anything to say to you.”

   “You're villainizing me for no reason,” said Lotor, making his way towards Lance with heavy steps that reeked of threat. “I spoke the truth back there, and it's about time the entire camp saw it.”

   “You called me a terrorist-sympathisor, Lotor! Do you know how that feels?” Lance exclaimed. “Gods, you don't even know what you're talking about half the time, do you? None of you idiots at the Ares cabin do!”

   “You watch your mouth,” snarled Lotor. “My siblings and I have more intelligence than those three Big Gods of yours combined – just because your father was an original, doesn't make him special. It doesn't make you special, so stop sitting here thinking you're all powerful whenever-”

   Lotor's sentence went unfinished whenever Lance spiralled around and shot his hands out with a roar of anger. You flinched away from the spray of water that suddenly burst from above your best friends hands and slammed down upon Lotor – but Lotor was fast. It happened in a matter of seconds, so fast you had barely caught sight of it until Lance was crumbling to the floor.

   Lotor had pulled his shield off of his back and was holding it over his head; the water bounced off of the surface, the shield acting as a decent umbrella to protect him from the shower of lake water Lance had just thrown upon him.

    But he wasn't done there.

   With a roar of anger, Lotor unsheathed the sword that was always strapped across his back. It glittered purple, sparkled in the moonlight – that was until it was thrust through Lance's heart and was drawn back bright red, dulled.

   You were screaming. You were screaming so loud and so desperately, and you wanted nothing more than to wake up, to wake up, to wake up-

   “Y/N! Y/N, wake up!”

   Your eyes snapped open. You gasped for air, throwing yourself forward. Your legs were tangled in the sheets, your hands gripping tightly at Pidge's green jacket as she and Hunk stared down at you in concern, clearly unsure as to what to make of the sudden outburst.

   Sweat was drenching your sheets, drowning your hair, dripping down your collar bones. You panted, looking around the room for any sign of Lotor – you expected him to be here. You expected to see Lance slumped over in the corner with a knife wound in his chest, Lotor standing over him with that sneer playing on his features.

   But the room was completely empty bar you, Hunk and Pidge – just like it always was.

   Your eyes snapped back to Hunk and Pidge. Pidge was sat on your bed, her hands firm on your shoulders. Hunk was standing beside her, a plate of ambrosia trembling in his hands.

   You swallowed thickly, suddenly needing water. “I'm fine.”

   Pidge raised a brow. “You didn't sound fine. Were you having a nightmare?”

    “I'm fine,” you repeated, snapping your hands away from her jacket and flattening them upon the mattress. “Is breakfast over yet? I need some water.”

[searchingwardrobes]

Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com: Twister, Chapter 4

Hurricane Florence has made me more sensitive about this particular AU. I would probably have delayed posting the next chapter if it wasn’t a tame one. This chapter is all about emotional conflict, not forces of nature. However, if you are just discovering this story and decide to catch up, please know that the rest of the story involves peril in violent storms. The prologue in particular portrays loss of life and property (though not graphically). So if you have personal experience with that kind of trauma or have anxiety over the possibility, this may be triggering for you. Please be safe and take care of yourselves! I am praying for all in the path of Florence. My own state has even declared a state of emergency, even though we are not supposed to be directly hit. So my posting this in no way implies that I am making light of the situation.

Rating: T (for triggers, see above)

Words in this chapter: 2,000 + (cut is there, but ya’ll know tumblr . . . )

You can catch up on Ao3

Tagging @shipsxahoy @tiganasummertree @artistic-writer @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @thejacketandthehook @shady-swan-jones @bethacaciakay @teamhook @cat-sophia @coliferoncer @dassala @branlovesouat @allofdafandoms-blog @flslp87 @pocket-anon @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @kday426 @snidgetsafan @jennjenn615 @delirious-latenight-laughs​​

Emma collapsed on the edge of the musty motel bed as she rubbed a towel vigorously over the ends of her hair. She had honestly expected to be halfway back to Atlanta by now, in a decent hotel with a hair dryer. She sighed as she took in the tacky “art” hanging over the bed, the faded avocado bedspread and the ancient television with the slightly fuzzy reception. At least there was cable. A re-run of The Office flickered on the screen, the sound muted. Emma had it on more for comfort than entertainment.

It hurt to think Killian implied this was the reason she left – the lack of material comforts on the road. Did he really think she could be that shallow? Such thoughts took her mind to her little boy – that precious child who had become her whole world in a way she never could have imagined.

She turned on her phone, smiling at her lock screen photo. Henry had found her phone and managed to take a selfie. The inquisitive look in his bright blue eyes, and the little adorable “o” of his mouth had been so beautiful to her, she had saved the picture. She swiped her finger to unlock her phone and smiled again at her wallpaper photo – her blowing raspberries on Henry’s cheek while he giggled. No pictures of Graham, just her and Henry. Shouldn’t that have been a clue?

She hit the icon for her Skype app and pressed Elsa’s number. Soon her blonde roommate was smiling back at her.

“Emma, hey! Someone here wants to see you!”

Elsa reached down and pulled a confused Henry onto her lap. Emma chuckled. Yeah, her son really wanted to Skype. But when he saw Emma’s face, he gasped, and his eyes widened. He cocked his head curiously, and it suddenly occurred to Emma that Killian had the exact same mannerism when he was trying to figure something out.

“Mama?”

“Yes, kiddo, it’s me! Are you having fun with Aunt Elsa?”

“Yeah,” Henry answered, leaning back against Elsa’s chest, “we ‘ad ice cweam!”

“Ice cream,” Emma laughed with a shake of her head, “I’m shocked.”

“Hey now,” Elsa retorted with mock offense, “he had vegetables at dinner, and when he asked for dessert, I told him no, you already had ice cream today.”

“But Kwistoff ga’ me wowwy pops!” Henry crowed, throwing his pudgy hands up in the air.

Emma gave Elsa a smug look. “Lollypops?”

She shrugged, “Ok, so Kristoff showed up with those when he picked Anna up for their date. That wasn’t my fault!”

Henry started to fuss and wiggle, so Elsa put him down after he blew Emma a kiss. Emma pretended to catch it, then made gobbling sounds as she put her hand to her mouth.

“Yum, yum, yum, ate it!” Then she blew one back to Henry, and he caught his too.

“Um, um, um, ate it!” he cheered, then ran off.

Emma sighed, her heart full. “Thank you for watching him,” she told Elsa.

Her friend waved her off. “Nonsense, he’s so sweet!”

“Well,” Emma said hesitantly, “that’s good, because . . .”

“You’re not coming back tomorrow.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

Elsa leaned closer to the screen and lowered her voice. “Is Graham around?”

Emma cut her glance away for a moment. “About that . . . “ She wasn’t sure how to explain, so she just held her empty left hand up to her cell phone screen.

“I knew it!” Elsa exclaimed.

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it! I feel awful for Graham.”

“That man won’t stay single for long, believe me,” Elsa assured her, “and it really is for the best.”

There was a pause that Emma wasn’t sure how to fill. Thankfully, her friend knew her well enough to change the subject.

“So how long are you staying out there?”

Emma rubbed her forehead wearily. “I don’t know. I’ll have to get a flight out of Oklahoma City probably, but we’re out in the middle of nowhere right now. Another storm hit and ruined the camper’s windshield, so we’re stuck here in this cheap motel until the mechanic scrounges up a new one.”

“We, huh?” Elsa asked, arching one elegant brow.

Emma scowled at her friend. “Don’t go there.”

Elsa was her first friend in Atlanta, though she had met Anna first. Anna was a co-worker at The Weather Channel, one of those “weather girls” Killian had spoken so condescendingly about. Though Anna had just as much educational credentials as Emma; she was just more perky on camera than prickly Emma. When she found out where Emma was living, she had flipped out.

“Are you insane?” the red head had shrieked. “Grove Park? I’m surprised you’re still alive!”

Emma knew her apartment was in a shady area, but she hadn’t known the city at all when she moved, and her realtor had sucked. Not to mention that the cost of living in Atlanta was much more expensive than rural Oklahoma.

“My sister and I are looking at a place in Atlantic Station,” Anna had told her.

Emma had rolled her eyes. Atlantic Station was one of those planned neighborhoods where everything you could want was in walking distance; sort of like living in an outdoor mall.

“No way can I afford that.”

Anna had grinned slyly. “Splitting rent three ways with sisters who don’t mind sharing a room you could.”

If the baby hadn’t been on the way, Emma may have kept the Arendelle sisters at arm’s length, but she worried about bringing a baby home to that dump in Grove Park. So she had moved in with Anna and Elsa. The latter clicked with Emma immediately. The two of them were so much alike, it was uncanny. Emma had honestly been relieved to find Elsa to be reserved and even a bit distant at times. She couldn’t have handled two bubbly, chatty Annas. And it had been Elsa who had walked into the apartment to find Emma sobbing over the ultrasound photos the day she found out she was having a boy. And only Elsa heard the whole story about where Henry got his blue eyes, dark hair, and inquisitive nature. Only Elsa knew why she had been so resistant at first when Kristoff introduced Graham to Emma. And only Elsa knew her well enough to be concerned when they announced their engagement.

“How did Killian take the news?” Elsa asked now, voice gentle.

“Pretty much the way I expected.”

Elsa frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Emma shrugged, though her chin wobbled. “I can’t blame him.”

“Well, take all the time you need,” Elsa told her sincerely. If they had been across the kitchen island in their apartment, Emma knew her friend would be grasping her hand.

“Thanks.”

“Love ya, sis,” Elsa told her with a wink.

A genuine smile tilted Emma’s lips. “Back at ya.”

She ended the call and fell backwards onto the bed, tossing her phone aside. She felt restless and lonely in a way she hadn’t since she was pregnant and living alone in Grove Park. She hadn’t realized how much Anna, Elsa, Henry, and Graham had kept the pain at bay. Even Kristoff with his corny jokes and ridiculous sweaters. He was probably the only male in the state of Georgia who owned sweaters. She had been blessed to find another quirky pseudo-family in Atlanta, though it didn’t have the history of this one in Oklahoma. The only missing piece had been Killian. He had left a huge, gaping hole that she should have known Graham could never fill.

Emma heard raucous laughter coming from outside her window. She pulled the curtains aside to see light spilling out of a dive bar across the street. She pressed her lips together in thought, then making a decision, grabbed her phone off the bed, stuffed the hotel key in her pocket, and headed out the door.

The crowd in the bar was sparse. Smee and Ruby were on bar stools, laughing and doing shots. They saw Emma and waved. Smee was already so drunk, he almost lost his balance and fell to the floor. She shook her head and laughed. One more thing that still hadn’t changed.

She looked around, equal parts relieved and disappointed not to see Killian there. Ariel sat alone at a table in the corner. Emma made her way in that direction.

“Can I get you something?” the bartender called out.

“Rum,” she told him, and he nodded.

“Killian Jones has got us both hooked I see,” Ariel quipped as Emma sat across from her.

Emma didn’t answer until her drink arrived. She took a sip, watching the redhead over the rim of her glass. “You’re not talking about the rum.”

Ariel caught her eye, more sad than embarrassed. She didn’t attempt an explanation.

“Are you still together?” Emma finally asked, her stomach clenching as she awaited the answer.

Ariel sighed. “No. And I don’t know that it was ever real anyway.”

Emma hated the hurt that radiated off the other woman. “I always knew you had a thing for him.”

Ariel’s bright green eyes widened. “I would never have betrayed your friendship, Emma. I hope you know that. You’d been gone a year before we . . . ,” she trailed off and took another sip of rum. “I was his rebound, I know that now. He was hurting so badly, and my heart just broke for him. And you’re right, I’d pined for so long, I guess I Iet myself believe it was real.”

“What happened?” Emma asked gently.

“Ariel gave her a sad smile. “Isn’t it obvious? I wasn’t you.”

***************************************************

The bar filled up as the night wore on. Ariel had excused herself early though Emma tried to get her to stay. Now she was playing a round of darts with Ruby and Smee. Or attempting to, anyway, considering her two companions were three sheets to the wind.

“Now that’s just bad form, Swan, playing against such inebriated opponents.”

Emma was so startled by the sound of Killian’s voice behind her that her aim went wide and the dart went pinging off the edge of the board. When she turned around, he was standing there with his hands in his pockets. He still wasn’t smiling at her like he used to, but at least anger was no longer in the set of his jaw. He inclined his head to the table in the corner that Ariel had just vacated. Emma excused herself from the game, though her old friends were too drunk to notice.

As she tentatively took a seat, the bartender asked Killian if he wanted anything.

“Just a beer,” he replied.

Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s all?”

Killian inclined his head to the pair stumbling toward the dart board. “We can’t all have hangovers in the morning.”

The beer arrived, and he took a sip. Her mind flipped backwards to nights like this in the past. Then she was right next to him, as close as she could get, his arm flung over her shoulder, his posture easy and relaxed.

“You don’t seem pissed at me anymore,” Emma said hesitantly.

“No,” he said softly, “just hurt. Honestly, I wish I was still angry.”

Emma nodded. He had never been anything but honest with her, even when they were kids. She pulled out her phone and unlocked it. She opened up her Instagram account and selected the album titled “Henry.” She then slid it across the table to Killian.

“Do you want to see pictures of him?”

Killian blinked, his hand trembling slightly as he took the phone. As he scrolled through, he swallowed and clenched his jaw. Emma knew the pictures would go from most recent to the day Henry was born. The longer Killian scrolled, the more emotional he became. He alternated between small smiles and unshed tears glistening in his eyes. When he finished, he set the phone down and covered his face with a shaking hand.

“He looks like you,” Emma whispered

Killian’s hand slid down his face. “He has your smile, though. And your chin.”

Emma silently closed her phone, not knowing what to say.

“You have an Instagram account?” he asked her in a choked voice.

Emma bit her lower lip. “I only have five followers. It was really just a place to store my photos. As back up, you know?”

Killian just nodded. Emma fiddled with a napkin, first crumpling it into a ball, then twisting it. He closed his eyes for a moment before speaking.

“Listen, Emma, about your fiancé leaving . . . I never wanted to see you hurt. No matter what’s happened between us, I could never take pleasure in seeing your heart broken.”

Emma managed a smile as his eyes met hers. “It isn’t broken.” She shrugged. “And that was the whole problem.”

“Why were you with him then?” he asked softly, the hurt filling his eyes again.

“Why were you with Ariel?” She couldn’t keep the harshness out of her voice.

His eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“Ariel told me, though she didn’t have to. I’m not stupid, Killian.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. He rubbed his eyes wearily instead.

Emma deflated. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I didn’t expect you to turn into a monk when I left.”

“I was never engaged to Ariel.”

Emma swallowed hard, her gaze lowering to the table. “Fair enough. I guess I let things go too far with Graham because he was safe.”

“You mean because he doesn’t chase storms for a living?”

Emma blinked to keep the tears that welled in her eyes from spilling over. “No. Safer for my heart.”

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Camp Beaverbrook | 005

CHECK OUT THE STORY FROM THE START HERE

Dear Dad,

I think I could get a little used to writing these letters. I’m not sure if you’re actually reading them, but if you are, this place isn’t so awful. Certainly, better than the alternative. Wilken’s hasn’t made the trip up here. Canceled the first time due to an emergency but I know I can’t push it off for long. I know that you like him, or whatever. You say he’s a good man, but something is off-putting about him. Maybe it’s the authority.

Your Daughter,

Beca.

The mess hall didn’t smell as appetizing on an empty stomach; the undeniable scent of burnt grease was layered against Beca’s lungs and made her crave something a little stronger. It had a tinged sweetness to it, or maybe that was the syrup that Aubrey Posen was slathering against a stack of waffles. It dripped and ran into a crumbly mess on the edges of the plate. Her stomach churned.

Chloe’s lavender scent was strong and almost eased the concoction. She hadn’t slept very well, the mattress lumpy and the ill attempt by the camp to keep mosquitos out had been futile. Her legs were a scabbed mess, and new pink lumps were against her collarbone. She scratched at them absently, reaching for a piece of toast that was in the middle of the table. Maybe that would settle her stomach.

“You didn’t get in until late last night,” Jessica stated, shoving a mouthful of pancake past her lips as she chewed slowly, trying not to choke on the batter. Her deep grey eyes were staring towards Stacie, the girl reaching for her glass of orange juice.

“Eh,” She shrugged her shoulders, “I met the new counselor from cabin seven. We have a lot in common.”  

Aubrey shook her head with a dull smile on her lips, seemingly having lost interest in her pancakes. She drew little patterns in her plate with the sharp edge of her fork. Chloe picked her own stare up from her food.

“You nervous about today, Bree?” She asked.

An odd look crossed her features. Aubrey Posen was tightly wound, and even though Beca had just met her she knew that from the start. The way she sat with her back straight and kept her elbows off the table while she ate gave way to little fun. Last night at the campfire was one of the only times she saw a bit of herself in the girl. The one who would drown out anxieties with alcohol instead of perfectionism.

Beca bit the edge away from her toast. It was dry, but she didn’t want to reach across Chloe to grab the pad of butter. A strange heat seemed to engulf her each time their skin made contact. She blamed the warmth of the fire last night and the fleece blanket that was draped around them. But it happened again this morning as they brushed their teeth together. So domestic, Beca thought.

“Nervous? No. Not really.” Aubrey said “I practically ran the camp last year by myself anyway. This time Gail isn’t breathing down my neck, though. It should be good.”

“No more projectile accidents, right?” A counselor Beca didn’t recognize spoke up. He had created a sandwich out of the pancakes and bacon, unabashedly shoving it into his mouth as crumbs dripped down his dark green shirt. The table shook and he recoiled. “Ow! Jesus Christ, Bree. She kicked me!”

Chloe shrugged, “You deserved it.”

Beca chewed slowly and didn’t ask questions. The wild look in the head counselors’ eyes gave her enough pause. She wasn’t here to make friends, she was here to keep to herself. Though, part of her knew Chloe Beale wouldn’t let her spend the summer coaching kids on how to properly use a jet ski without having some fun herself.

Her eyes moved to the small clock that hung above the doorway. They had been situated in the corner of the mess hall, sheltered from the noise of the campers tiredly eating their own breakfast. She could see the neon light from the kitchen seeping behind the side of the bench. It was nearly eight. Her stomach churned.

“Beca?”

“Huh?” someone had been talking to her. Aubrey had been talking to her. She knit her eyebrows together, looking at the rest of the people staring at her from the table. “What’d I miss?”

“I said the two of us need to talk. I have a binder on water safety that we need to go through. It’s very important. Probably the most important part of this camp. We can’t have any accidents.”

“Yeah, I think I’m good.” She sounded out easily. “Just make sure kids don’t drown, right?”

“It’s more than that.”

She had struck a nerve, Aubrey had turned a different shade of red than she had seen before and it almost made her feel triumphant. Like she was picking at the strings of a violin that was wound all too tightly. It gave her a familiar rush. A defiant one.

Beca pushed her chair back, standing from her seat. “I’m not the one handling arrows, no offense.”

Stacie didn’t’ look up from her food. “None taken.”    

Aubrey had grown three more shades of red before Beca gave her a slight salute and turned her back, walking out into the cool morning light. She wasn’t used to the atmosphere of the mountain, but she felt hot. Hot from the interaction that had just occurred. There was dew on the grass that soaked into her pant legs and made them cling to her skin. She pulled her long sleeve shirt closer- the red lifeguard design was painted on with a weird substance, the whistle around her neck jingling with each step she took.

Beca took her time as she walked up to the cabin that overlooked the rest of the camp. It was more of a house than anything, large and looming. It had a green roof and looked like one of those places she would construct out of Lincoln logs when she was younger. Gail had hoarded herself away there like a mad scientist, and Beca never knew if she was supposed to knock or not.

Wilken’s had his black El Dorado parked out front. He had a New York license plate and his engine clicked in groaned from the mountain air. He hadn’t been here long, but Beca knew Gail had already offered him a cup of tea that he would decline. He wasn’t much of a tea drinker.

She knocked anyway and was greeted a few seconds later by the owner of the camp. She looked somber, a flannel and a large pair of thick-rimmed glasses. A mug was in her grasp and it radiated steam, edging at the lenses. Gail offered a kind smile, but it seemed forced.

“You’re early,”

“I thought the walk would be longer.”

Gail nodded and stepped inside. She expected to be led someone more formal, an office with a large oak desk and bookshelves lining the wall. Instead, she was sat in the middle of a sofa that faced two other chairs. A fire crackled to her right and made sweat form against her brow. It was sure to warm up soon, having burned all night. Wilkens eyed a full cup of tea that he was too polite to decline.

He was a dark man, black and grey hair that always accompanied the black suit that he wore. Today he evaded the tie, almost like it was more casual. But she had seen him in a court setting. His only two moods were formal and somber. Today seemed to be the ladder.

“Hello, Rebecca.” He lifted his chin “How have you been?”

“Okay, I think. Everyone is very welcoming.”

She had only been there for three days, and he dropped her off himself. Granted, they hadn’t made much conversation. He wasn’t one to ponder the weather or ask about the tides. instead, they rode quietly with the windows down until it got too cold.    

“Good, I’m glad.” He shifted in his seat, the leather squeaking under his weight. “Have you spoken to your father?”

“I write him letters. Have you?”

“No, afraid not.”

Beca nodded. Gail had been watching this interaction carefully. Neither her nor Beca found a reason for these visits and they had barely begun. He would ask the same questions. How have you been? Have you spoken to your father? Have you caused any trouble? To which he would turn to Gail before asking Has she caused any trouble?

Wilken’s got her to sign paperwork that Beca didn’t care enough to read before thanking her and shaking the woman’s hand. He would nod at Beca too, a little form of affection before leaving completely. He drove away before anyone could ask questions an left the two girls in an unbridled silence.

“Want a muffin?” Gail asked, not drawing her eyes away from the fire. “Maybe some tea?”