#writing camp

[thedogfromthatmitskisong]

Writecamp day 10 (yes i know i'm late oops)

thank you @jay-avian for tagging me! i write this immediately after being tagged but just didn't like it; picked two prompts. thank you @agirlandherquill for hosting this, it truly helped me write something after a while :)

i'd invite any and all of my mutuals to participate and tag me in it if you do! i'd love to see your take on these prompts :)

the prompt i chose was:

the weight of weakness (a bit on the nose in this excerpt, but here we go):

please don't mind any spelling or grammar errors, wrote this half asleep.

Will stilled his movement. “You wouldn’t,”

“Oh, I so would,” Nico straightened.

Dangerous, might be the better synonym for him at this moment.

“Please don’t do this to me,” Will whispered

Mean, too.

“I’m afraid it’s not something I can delay, love,” Nico said sweetly, acting as if his warm expression and warm voice could hide what he was about to ruin.

Asshole, felt so apt.

He started moving, and Will felt anchored to the ground, ‘move, move, move. Please stop him, move your ass Will, holy shit he looks hot but you need to move.’

Will felt so weak but oh it was so heavy.

He could only feel weaker when Nico got to him.

“Please, Nico,” his eyes flickered between Nico’s, “I’m scared.”

Nico got closer, hand reaching to caress Will’s cheek, “I know,” their foreheads rested against each other’s, “but you know it’s going to happen,”

end.

[nicolemarcina]

Marcian Writing Camp : March 2025 – Finale

Hello, my lovely Marcians 🌻

The "Marcian Writing Camp - March 2025" has come to an end. After two weeks of grueling self-doubt - and an immediately-prevented burnout - I was able to reach the finish line of this month's writing challenge. With the proper expectations placed, as well as being kinder to one's self, the first writing challenge of 2025 was a complete success.

Read the full article here : https://wordsoftheleaf.com/2025/04/16/marcian-writing-camp-march-2025-finale/

[tippenfunkaport]

Can't believe NaNoWriMo just did this, but literally.

[quarterlifekitty]

Lately I’ve been getting a kick outta the idea of Ghost having a girlfriend that Johnny is painfully interested in (tale as old as time). But she a lil neurodivergent and selectively mute (edit; I originally labeled reader as non-verbal, but I was made aware mutism more accurately describes this!). She’s comfortable enough with Simon that she’ll talk to him when they’re alone, but she won’t say a word to Soap (she doesn’t talk to the other guys either, but you know that Johnny chooses to take it so damned personally).

The worst part is that Soap will say shit to her, and she’ll give Simon her little signal so he can bend down and she can talk to him so fucking quietly. It’s like they speak a different language and Simon is the interpreter. And it’s so infuriating to him because shit like this will happen.

“Ain’t you looking a right picture, bonnie— that dress new? Fits ye like a damned glove, sweetheart.”

You tug on Simon’s sleeve so he can lean down. Soap is rocking back and forth on his heels, anticipating an answer. He’s down so bad, he doesn’t even care that he’ll hear it from Simon’s lips and not yours. You whisper for what feels like minutes on end.

“She says thanks.”

“God damn, L.T.— you know she fuckin’ ‘ad to ‘ave said more than that!” He whines indignantly, Simon smirking. Simon knows all about his little crush, and chooses to let the lad suffer. His time will come when you’re ready.

This goes on and on for months on end— and you know what? It’s hard for Johnny to jerk off to the image of you wedged between him and Ghost when he has no idea what you sound like, moaning or otherwise. You can probably see him half hard in his jeans every time he heads home from a movie night with you and Simon.

“G’night, L.T. Night, hen.” Soap’s almost all the way down the walkway when he hears something almost inaudible over the ambient sounds of the night.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

Now that’s gonna keep his fantasies fed for weeks.

[yuuchama]

Sometime during the VDC training camp, when everyone on team Night Raven is sleeping over at Ramshackle Dorm:

Ramshackle Dorm has no shortage of spare rooms, but their condition is another story. You've managed to get enough of them decently clean. They're not as nice as your room, which has had far more time invested in it and is well lived in, but your groupmates should be able to spend a few days at the dorm without issue and are more than free to tidy up rooms as they please.

Yet on one of the first nights, you hear the door of your room creak open. It's dark and you can't see the intruder, though you know it's not one of the ghosts. The approaching footsteps aren't as heavy as Grim's, even after he's cleared out the entire fridge in one sitting. You're also pretty confident Grim is fast asleep beside you.

"Hello?" You groggily lift your head and call out to the intruder. If it's anything malicious, you hope the ensuing scuffle will cause enough noise to wake everyone else up.

A weight pushes the edge of your mattress down and there's a gentle touch at your shoulder. "Prefect, do you mind if I spend the rest of the night here?"

"Jamil?"

You almost don't recognize him in the dark with his hair down. You feel around for a bedside light. Grim groans in his sleep when it clicks on and turns over, shielding his eyes with tiny arms.

Jamil looks exhausted. "Please, I'd really appreciate if you could let me sleep here tonight."

"Yeah, sure. Of course." Maybe it's the sleep addling your brain or your trust in Jamil. You see no reason to turn down his request and didn't question why he was coming to you instead of Kalim. You nudge Grim over to make room for one more on the bed.

The vice housewarden does his best to fit in the cramped sleeping conditions, assuring "I'll pay you back for this. Thank you."

He's turned towards the wall, back touching your side so that he doesn't fall. You wait to make sure he's fully secure in bed before turning off the light. In the calm that follows, you notice he's almost imperceptibly shaking. Sure, the dorm is cold, but not that cold. Especially with three in one bed.

"Jamil, are you okay?" The longer you spend awake, the more concerning this whole situation feels.

"I'm fine. Goodnight, Prefect." Jamil already has his eyes shut and seems adamant about not discussing things further.

"Okay... Goodnight."

You lay down and silence settles over the room once more. It's really warm between your two friends. Sleep is quick to catch up to you, you find yourself nodding off within minutes of your head touching the pillow.

Before you fully drift off, Jamil turns to face you. His hair drapes over the side of the bed and he places a hand on your pillow, lightly grazing your cheek.

"Thanks again," he whispers. "I feel a lot better with you here. Your room doesn't have bugs on the wall."

[mysterywriter2187]

Dean's attempts to dismiss criticism for separating Nani and Lilo has a lot of bullshit and ignorant logic to it, but this particular explanation is by far the stupidest.

Nani having no remaining family or trusted neighbours or friends to take Lilo in wasn't a plot hole for the remake to fix. It's the whole fucking reason there's even a conflict about Lilo's custody in the first place.

In the original film, the threat of Cobra possibly taking Lilo away and putting her in the foster system isn't just Nani being sad and sentimental that she can't see her sister anymore (like the remake implies).

It's the very real danger of a vulnerable (and heavily autistic-coded) indigenous little girl being sent against her will to live with complete strangers, who may not understand or accept her individuality, abuse her or God knows what else. And neither Nani or Lilo herself have any say in the matter.

If Nani did have a close friend, neighbour or even another relative that could look after Lilo on behalf, that would have been the first option well before Cobra and child services ever got involved. Which is exactly why the original film includes no such character.

Which is where the issue of Tūtū and the new ending in the remake comes in.

If Tūtū is able to talk to the social worker at the last minute and arrange to become Lilo's guardian, then it can only mean that was able to do so the entire time, yet she inexplicably chose not to, even when knowing full-well what was at stake and seeing for herself how the sisters were struggling. And from Nani's evident surprise in the ending, Tūtū clearly never even entertained this idea to her at any point before springing it on her here.

Even worse, since Nani has been forced to surrender Lilo to the state, rather than giving her custody to Tūtū directly, the state now has full freedom to change their minds and send her where and whenever they want, and neither Nani nor Tūtū would have the power to do anything about it.

Which, again, wouldn't have been an issue if this really nice, caring and loving neighbour, who is definitely a good character that we should like and root for, had stepped in for Lilo and Nani as soon as their parents died. But because the rest of the plot still has to follow the original (despite her presence radically changing the circumstances) she just… didn't do that. So now this new solution is too little, too late, and the film ends with virtually nothing changing for Nani and Lilo's dilemma compared to the start of the film.

Nani surrendering Lilo to the state is already a horrible ending regardless of who she goes to, but the very existence of Tūtū as a character actively undermines the rest of the story, and it ironically creates a major plot hole where they were trying to amend a non-existent one.

Oh, and by the way, Dean. Y'know the whole thing about how an auntie or uncle could have stepped in to help the sisters?

They did get an auntie and uncle in the original, but you made one of them irrelevant and you made the other one the villain for no reason!

[sirlightningpotato]

Annabeth and Jason’s backstory’s are 100% mirrors of each other’s and I wish they did more with that.

Like Jason’s backstory is supposed to be a foil of Percy’s (Jason is what would’ve happened to Percy if Sally just dropped him off at camp or if he became a year rounder), but it ends up being incredibly similar to Annabeth’s

Both Jason and Annabeth were neglected by their mortal parent, both were at their respective camps way younger than normal, they both are essentially leaders of their camps, and they even share the same older sister

But where Annabeth wanted nothing more than a call to adventure it was thrust upon Jason, where Annabeth’s fatal flaw is hubris, overconfidence, Jason’s is the tendency to deliberate, under-confidence. There’s just so much you can do with them

[scruncheduppaper]

MY LIFE FORCE DRAINED — DEAR GOD, PLACE A CURSE ON THOSE WHO’VE WRONGED ME

[echo-has-queries]

Writing multiple fics about the same characters at the same time is so wild. Like: What are you in the mood for today, blorbo? Do you want to experience the harrowing ordeal of growing up in an impoverished neighborhood that has increasing amounts of monstrous murder happening? Or do you wanna go to math camp?

[serpentface]

The pylidaigh, a type of vampiric snow ghost, as imagined in folklore in and around the Highlands.

This is a ghost believed to come into being when a person dies in the snow and their body is not found before their soul (still trapped without its funeral rites) 'freezes' inside of it. The body then reanimates into a pylidaigh's twisted form. It looks like someone who slowly died of starvation, just a thin layer of flesh over bones. Its skin is as white as the snow itself, so pale it can blend seamlessly into a blizzard. Most of its body appears subtly stretched and lanky, save for its exceptionally unsubtle long, skinny arms, which drag on the ground behind it when it walks. After a big meal of blood, its belly swells like the abdomen of a tick.

A pylidaigh can only tread across snow and ice, and so doorways and windows are best kept clear of snowfall during the winter in order to prevent it from reaching inside. It mostly comes out to hunt during blizzards when there is little that can prevent it from catching its victims.

In spite of its fragile appearance, a pylidaigh is supernaturally strong, and can run at great speeds when it wants to. No mortal weapons can pierce its body, nor can any bonds known to craftsmen hold it in place. It is usually said that chains forged like iron but made out of ice can bind a pylidaigh and render it immobile, but this smithing technique remains tragically elusive to the average joe.

This ghost is either cast as a wildly dangerous but tragic figure, or one that is more simply malicious. In either case, it is described as experiencing nothing but bitter cold. It shivers endlessly. It retains distant memories of what it was to be alive, and it is motivated by a futile desperation to experience the feeling of warmth again.

In more sympathetic framings, it is described as using its freaky gibbon arms to capture its victims and pull them into an embrace, rather innocently trying to warm itself against their body. This inevitably fails, and the embrace becomes a bone crushing squeeze. When that too fails to warm the ghost, it rips out the person's throat and drinks their blood until the victim is as cold and drained as the pylidaigh itself.

In other cases, this more pitiable narrative of a ghost seeking warmth with no comprehension of its actions is discarded in favor of making it purely monstrous. Here it is a type of vampire with an insatiable thirst, practically a physical manifestation of the worst of winter itself. Some tales acknowledge both variants, suggesting a pylidaigh's violent attempts to warm itself may be initially devoid of malice, but turns into an act of furious jealousy of the warmth of the living after years of suffering.

The only (more or less) surefire method to permanently kill a roaming pylidaigh involves trapping it with fire. They are attracted to any source of heat, and will attempt to warm themselves with the flames (if not tempted away by a juicy living human body). The fire itself cannot kill them (as the sheer cold of their body is more powerful even than flame) but they can be trapped if kept near the fire long enough for the snow it depends upon to melt. This does not kill the pylidaigh either. The monster will remain in stuck in place (and potentially become a threat again if it snows more) for the duration of the winter. Only when the spring comes and all the snow melts does it revert into a normal human carcass (though mysteriously invulnerable to decay), at which point it can be cremated.

Pylidaigh in the wilds also revert to a human corpse during the snowless seasons, but will roam again each following winter unless it is burnt in the interim. It is of critical importance that any human corpse found in high mountain pasture is cremated- not only out of respect for the poor soul trapped as an earthbound ghost, but to prevent the threat of the possible dormant pylidaigh emerging next winter.

[soadscrawl]

i wasnt gonna post this but that first little doodle had ppl yodeling on instagram so...... camp staff au

[frogsizedgiraff]

holy shit Sydney October Sargent from hit horror comedy podcast Camp here and there?? no way!!!

[nicolemarcina]

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 : 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 - 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞

The first week of March has been filled with excitement and anxiety. Knowing that I'll be writing a brand new WIP right after a publication month - with little to no prep - I hoped and prayed that everything will turn out well. Here's our recap for our Marcian Writing Camp - Week One.

Read the full article here : https://wordsoftheleaf.com/2025/03/07/marcian-writing-camp-march-2025-week-one/

[marsian-tango]

Yandere Camp Counselor

Fresh out of college, after four years of doing nothing but studying, you’re finally free!

Everything is gonna be fine now, the nightmare has ended. The sleepless nights are gone, those lazy classmates who you had to work with are no longer in sight, the teacher who once failed you and gave you the news with a condescending smile on their face is now bidding you goodbye.

The ominous presence of adulthood is breathing down your neck, and your parents’ warnings of the difficulties that you'll have to face now—such as jobs and taxes—do intimidate you a bit. But you got it under control!

You remember when you were little and your parents would send you to Camp Howler, you had the utmost fun there. Each summer since you were eight, you’d beg your parents to leave you there, and each summer they did. That was until you got ‘too old’ for that ‘childish stuff’, according to them.

You applied for a job as a camp counselor, and when you told the head counselor who you were and that you used to go there when you were little, he recognised you immediately. You could hear his excitement through the phone when he told you that you and him used to spend all summers together at camp, even sharing a bunk bed!

How cool!

And look at you now, finally free from academic obligations, ready to work at the place where you got all your best memories from, and with the one person your young self used to hang out with!

Ugh! This. Will. Be. Awesome!

Yandere! Camp counselor who practically squealed like a little girl when he recognised who you were, almost ending the call by accident when his phone slipped out of his shaky grasp.

He can’t believe it! It’s you! After so many years of not knowing how you were doing or where you were, he’s finally gonna see you again. Oh, boy, is he ecstatic!

Yandere! Camp counselor who used to be so close to you, attached to the hip. He knew you like the palm of his hand, and that always made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, it made you feel important, so you never thought of spending your time with anybody else at camp, although it’s not like you could anyway. It’s no surprise, really, everytime you came to camp he would intercept you before anyone else could.

Yandere! Camp counselor who never forgot about you. You were once the light of his life, he remembers playing with you every day, doing all the fun activities that Camp Howler offered. You two would spend the entire day together, and it was all just chatting, laughing, running, swimming—all of it together.

And at the end of the day, you guys would get back to your shared cabin and have your usual sleepover—and if he was lucky, you’d fall asleep before even getting to your bunk, succumbing to slumber right by his side, without a care in the world, as he nuzzles into your neck and takes in your addicting scent. Strawberries and sunlight. Ah, he still remembers.

Yandere! Camp counselor who waits by the entrance of the camp with a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand, and a homemade bracelet in the other. He’s not sure how long he’s been standing here for, all he knows is that you left home at 7 AM, and he woke up at—well, he didn’t wake up at all, the excitement to see you again kept him up all night.

His eyes widen and his pulse quickens when he sees a car approaching, and the moment he sees your figure getting out of the car he’s full sprinting towards you, almost tackling you to the ground with a warm bear hug.

Gosh! It’s been so long! Oh, you’re glowing. You've certainly bloomed into the most beautiful flower. Oh! You need to tell him everything about you. What have you been up to? What did you study? Did you like it? How are your parents? Are you single?

Yandere! Camp counselor who can’t be away from you. Seriously, it makes him feel physically sick. It’s just like when you were kids, but a hundred times more.

You just got to camp a few days ago, you’re still getting to know all the other counselors and campers, but the nostalgia and familiarity of it all makes you feel right at home.

And having your childhood friend by your side brings up so many memories. He, for once, is having so much fun with you here. You two can do all the things that you did as kids, the only difference is that you guys are grown ups now. The best of both worlds!

Yandere! Camp counselor who wasn’t an antisocial kid or even shy, in fact, he was quite outspoken and friendly, and when his hyperactivity got the best of his parents, they decided to send him to Camp Howler to wear out some energy.

He made many friends there, but one fateful day…he met you. Poor and homesick you. He felt drawn instantly. How could he not? You were like a small fawn missing their parents, afraid of all the noise and people, looking for a place to hide from all the loud beasts. He needed to help you, to be your shelter, your protector. Oh, you looked so scared and lost…

Yandere! Camp counselor who, ever since that day, became your knight in shining armor. Never letting any camper near your delicate frame. Ah, even as a kid he was devoted to you.

Now he doesn’t protect you from campers—he knows you can deal with them on your own. He protects you from other counselors. Those are the real mutts here!

Yandere! Camp counselor who insists on reminiscing the good old days by being bunk buddies again. C’mon, you guys used to have so much fun! A never ending sleepover. Every. Night. C’mon, you used to love it! And you can even have the top bunk.

Oh? You’d rather have some privacy and sleep alone?

Well, guess what? There are no other beds! So unless you want to sleep on the floor, you’ll have to share a bunk with him. But don’t worry, it’ll be so much fun! You can make friendship bracelets, and tell spooky stories—you can even cuddle him if it gets too scary. Trust me, he wouldn't mind.

Yandere! Camp counselor who loves watching you interact with the kids. It’s just so cute to see you playing with the young campers and doing all the fun stuff that you guys did at their age. It makes him realize how good of a parent you’ll be one day. Although, he already knew that. When playing house with you, you were always such a good spouse. Making the imaginary food, setting the plastic table, always greeting him with a peck on the cheek when he came back from the rainbow factory.

Oh, he always knew, even from a young age, that you’d be the perfect spouse.

He’s not really sure why he used to enjoy playing house with you so much, or why he’s having these unusual thoughts of you being a spouse…

But, hey! It must be nothing, right?

Yandere! Camp counselor who always feels something strange bubbling in his chest when you’re around, something intensely warm and uncontrollable. He’s felt it ever since you two were kids. It’s so weird. He never paid too much attention to it since he thought that it was a common thing between friends. But that feeling changed once you stopped coming to camp, it turned into something heavy, yet sharp.

And now that he’s got you back it’s like his entire body is on fire. Like his heart wants to come out of his ribcage and get into yours.

He’s really confused. When he was little he remembers talking to a counselor about it, and the young adult suggested that it was…a crush.

He didn’t get it at the time, but now he understands it perfectly. This does feel like a crash! It feels as if his body was being sunk down by this dense feeling, all the way down till it crashes against the core of the earth.

Huh.

So that’s what it’s called. That is a crush. To feel the weight of your unwavering love resting upon your shoulders and throat, filling your lungs with confessions that you would only come up with in the darkest hours of the night, and you’d only be brave enough to utter in the haze of drunkenness.

Yandere! Camp counselor who’s not sure how to approach this whole ‘crush’ situation. He wants to tell you how he feels, but he doesn’t know if you feel the same way, and he doesn’t wanna force that kind of connection. He wants to have a real thing with you, like the whole package.

He wants to take you out on a date, to make you gifts, to make you feel loved, and to show you that what he feels is genuine.

He’s not completely sure about the whole romance protocol, he’s not as socially skilled as he was when he was younger. Truth be told, after you stopped coming to camp, he kinda shut himself off. He stopped hanging out with his friends, never speaking to anyone but his parents, and the only way to have a full on conversation with him was if it was about you.

Poor, pathetic baby. He missed you so much.

But he’s willing to learn! He’ll woo you so hard, you’ll swoon at the sight of him.

Yandere! Camp counselor who, during your nightly strolls near the lake, suggests having a different kind of fun tonight, a more reckless kind of fun.

Ah, you see. The lake looks so refreshing, and it’s so hot today—the hottest day of the year, says the news—it seems as if the weather itself was tempting you to peel off your skin and let the summer breeze consume you altogether…but maybe a little swim would be enough, don’t you think?

C’mon! A nice swim to cool off your bodies before going to sleep, sounds like heaven on a day like this.

Sorry, what? You don’t have your swimsuit…

Well, that's fine! There’s nobody around but you two. You don’t have to be so worried. Sure, he doesn’t have his swimsuit either. But you guys still have your underwear, that should do the trick, right?

Yandere! Camp counselor who makes sure to always sit next to you during campfires. Pretending to yawn before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, bringing you even closer than you already were.

And every time. He prays to every God there is for you to get spooked by some scary story, so you can curl to his side, and he can swiftly pull you to his lap. That has only happened once. But, God, one can only dream.

Yandere! Camp counselor who tries to get a hold of his feelings, he really does. But it's so hard! And the kids notice. Boy, do they notice. They overheard him once attempting to flirt with you, albeit you remained oblivious to his intentions, they sure didn’t. The campers have a field day with that one, let me tell you that.

Yandere! Camp counselor who has to put up with the kids making fun of him. The campers see how infatuated—obsessed he is with you, and some of them even try to set you up with him, but others just use this as an opportunity to bully him even more.

He’s so pathetic. Making you bracelets and necklaces, writing you little poems, ogling you from a bush while you swim in the lake—now that they think about it, he’s more creepy than pathetic.

But in the end two groups were formed. The group that sees this as the perfect way to spend their summer, cause who doesn’t enjoy messing with a grown man and his futile attempts of seduction? And the group that takes pity on him and decides to help him achieve his goal.

The second group makes all kinds of projects. They plan a candle lit dinner under the mesmerising moonlight. A picnic on a nearby hill as the sunset sets away in the distance. A slow dance after the bonfire with the stars painting the sky above.

The first group succeeds in ruining all of those plans. That candle lit dinner? Well, it looks like one of those candles reached some dry weeds and started a fire! That picnic on the hill? I bet you weren’t expecting to be so close to a wasp nest, huh. A slow dance, was it? Oh, no! A kid was messing around with a conveniently accessible nail gun and hurt himself!

Yep, they’re really up for the challenge. They give their best every single time. Even if it means compromising their physical integrity.

Yandere! Camp counselor who is unlucky, inexperienced, weird, and overall, a total loser. But he loves you with all his might. He doesn’t care that all his attempts ended in failure, he will never stop trying. Because you’re worth it. You’re worth every failure, cause one day, life will smile at him and you’ll be finally his.

He can endure a few more failed tries, it’s okay. The wasp stings don’t hurt that much anyway.

He’s got all summer to show you his love, and if that doesn’t work, he’s always got next summer. Or the next one, or the next one, or the next one—point is, he’s got time!

It’s not like you have anywhere else to go during the summer, right?

You need a job, you need money—and he’s the head counselor of the camp, so he controls your paycheck. If you even think about looking for another job, he’ll just increase your paycheck! He doesn’t mind. He might have to make some cutbacks here and there, but he’s sure the other counselors won’t mind earning a little less money, and if they do—well, he can always just fire them!

Yandere! Camp counselor who just got you back after years of being away from you. Surely you don’t expect him to let go of you that easily, do you? You came back to him, this is destiny. Your fate is to end up with him. He can feel it.

C’mon, you must feel something for him, right? It can’t possibly be one sided…

You better pray that it’s not one sided, cause if it is, he’ll freak out. He’ll go insane. We’re talking about a pathetic weirdo here, we don’t know what he’s capable of!

Yandere! Camp counselor who will make you love him, even if it takes a thousand summers. He won’t let you go, he won’t make the same mistake twice.

Who ordered a pathetic freak with a side of fries?! Hello, everybody, i missed you. I missed my community of freaks who yearn for yearners. I'm starting to get frustrated with myself, I recently found out that I'm not good at writing stories in a format that isn't "Yandere! who", but I'll keep practising. I'll try not to procrastinate so much and just...write. Even if it's REALLY bad. Remember that if there's any mistakes, let me know. Anyway, I hope everyone is having a good day, night, or whatever's in between. Kisses <3

[winter-parrot]

for @911whatisyourpride week 3: family. took this prompt a little sideways but the idea hit me like a truck like two hours ago and then i typed this entire ficlet directly into the tumblr post dialog like a madwoman, so.

buck doesn't exactly try to adopt a dog, and fails anyway. tommy picks up a dog and an (ex?)-boyfriend. | bucktommy (duh) | post season-8 | 2.4k

now on ao3!

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

Buck keeps thinking about Blaze. Not Bingo, who went back to his family and is probably spoiled and happy and exactly where he belongs. But Blaze, whom for that single day had belonged to Buck. Who had been a friend when he and Eddie were on the outs, and everything was falling apart, and he had nobody to talk to because everyone thought he was overreacting. Someone who was happy to see him, who looked at him adoringly, who took joy from Buck's mere existence and gave joy in return.

Now, his life is a hundred times the mess that it was back then, but the parallels aren't escaping him.

And yeah, yeah, he's always got Maddie. But she's not his, not really; she's got more important people in her life. Her own family. Chimney, and Jee, and newborn baby Robert-who-he-still-cannot-call-Bobby. Chim's got her and Jee and Robert, in return. Eddie's got Chris, and Tia Pepa. Hen's got Karen and Denny and Mara too, now. Athena's got May and Harry, and anyway he's not going to impose on her, not now, not after everything.

Point is, everyone's got someone who's theirs. Everyone except him, that is. For a minute there he thought he might have Tommy, but well. Shows you how much he knows about love, about building a family.

So instead he's sitting all alone--in a shitty little Airbnb he's got for the week, because apartment hunting in LA is anything but fast--thinking about Blaze. And looking up dog rescues, just to dream about holding them all, and bringing one home, and having someone to greet him and be excited to see him when he gets home.

He knows it's pathetic--knew it even then, when he was clinging to Blaze and ignoring Eddie--but the one thing more pathetic than having a dog for your only friend and source of love, is having no one for a friend and source of love. Although, dreaming about having a dog for his only friend and source of love, when he can't even get a dog because he doesn't have a home address and anywhere with a pet deposit is going to be way out of his price range, is probably more pathetic than both.

The thought doesn't stop him from scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling past the little squares of photos and blurbs. There's a five-year-old beagle named Dot that reminds him a little too painfully of Blaze. A six-month-old mutt of a puppy--they think it's maybe a boxer mix--with bright blue eyes called Frankie. A massive ninety-pound Doberman named Sergeant with a noble air to him--and behaviour problems, apparently. A tiny yorkie, by far the teey-tiniest dog he's ever seen, called Mini.

And then, at the bottom, a raggedy three-legged lab mix called Tres. He's the longest-running resident of the shelter, according to his bio. Lost his leg in an accident, while wandering in the streets. Seven years old, old enough to have trouble being adopted even without the missing leg. He's also got the biggest, most soulful brown eyes Buck's ever seen on a dog. Ever seen period, maybe.

Before he quite realizes what he's doing, Buck has the address memorized and the keys to his Jeep in his hand. No, that's not entirely true. He sort of halfway realizes what he's doing, but refuses to let himself recognize it all the way. Because if he did, then he'd have to acknowledge that it's insane, and then he'd have nothing to do but sit there and think about how pathetic he is, and how sad Tres looked in the photos.

The shelter is almost halfway across the city, because he wasn't exactly paying attention to the location when he started down this impromptu spiral. But that's alright; he's on day one of a four off, so he's got the time to kill. It's early enough, too, so traffic won't even be that bad. (He Does Not think about why he was up so early on his day off. That way lies grief and pain and danger, and he does not want to end up accidentally wrapping his car around a power pole.)

Still, this is LA, and "not that bad" ends up being nearly an hour instead. Plenty of time to think about what the hell he's doing, and all the million reasons it's a stupid, impulsive idea. But he's started this already, going Full Buck as they'd say, and he's determined not to turn back. Maybe he can't take Tres home, doesn't even have a home to take Tres to, but that doesn't mean he can't go see the dog, right? Maybe he can't be enough for anyone in his life, can't make them happy or hold them together, but surely he can be a bright spot in one sad dog's day. He can be good for this one thing.

The shelter's open, but just barely, when he gets there. No cars in the tiny parking lot, thank God, because most sane people don't show up to animal shelters at--he checks his phone--8:17 in the morning. The tiny bells above the door chime a happy little chorus as he walks in. A woman behind the front desk looks up, seeming startled to see him there. Fair enough.

"Hi, u-um, I saw this dog on your website?" Buck says, uncertainty tilting his sentence up into a question.

"Are you looking to adopt?" the woman--Miranda, according to the name tag Buck's now close enough to read--asks, already rummaging for some forms.

"U-um, not-not yet. I don't, um, I don't currently have a pet-friendly place," Buck says. He doesn't have any place, of course, but that's a lot to unload on this poor woman at barely eight in the morning. "B-but, um, but I'd like to someday. When I'm in a- a better place." Winces at the phrasing; apparently he's so chock full of death euphemisms these days, it's leaking out everywhere. "I just, um, I just wanted to see the dog for now? Maybe play wit him for a bit, if-if that's something I can do?"

Miranda looks at him for a long moment. It feels, oddly, like the way Bobby used to look at him. Piercing and uncompromising, but not unkind. Like she was looking at him, really looking, past his shell and right down to the core of him--not to judge, or find him wanting, but just to see. To understand. To maybe even help. The moment stretches like gum, and Buck's not even sure he's breathing. Not until she nods once, sharply, and says, "What was his name? The dog you were looking at?"

"U-um, Tres," Buck says, somehow surprised by this turn of events despite literally showing up here for it. "I was looking at Tres."

Miranda's face turns apologetic. "Oh hon, someone already put in yestereday to adopt him."

Something inside Buck stretches past breaking point, snaps into overstretched pieces. Of course he can't even do this right. Too late and not enough. Forces his lips into a smile that feels far too brittle for how practiced it's become, these past few weeks. "R-right. Okay. That's, that's good for him, right? G-going home to someone who can love him." Love him better than Buck ever could. Who probably has a yard for Tres to play around in, and a cozy fireplace for Tres to curl up in front off, with a fluffy dog bed all set up and waiting.

Miranda nods, but she seems distracted, chewing at her lip. Looks down at her desk. Shuffles through some papers, looking for something. Squints down at one sheet, running her fingers along the lines. "Pick up time, pick up time... ah! Yeah, that's what I thought." She looks up at him, still holding the paper in her hand. "Listen, you seem like a nice guy--the people who come here for the saddest dogs usually are. You can see other dogs, of course, whichever ones you want. But if you've got your heart set on Tres, The owner's out back right now, picking up Tres and his stuff. I can go and ask if he'd be okay with you at least say hi to Tres."

Buck nods, mumbles out a thanks that may or may not come out intelligible past the growing knot in his throat. He can't explain it, why meeting Tres feels so important. Maybe it's because he felt like they were kindred souls, in some terribly pathetic way, forgotten and left behind and waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to finally want him. Maybe it's because he thought that he could save someone, even just one sad dog, from the terrible loneliness eating him up from the inside--and be saved in return. Maybe he just wanted to be good for something, anything, and this was the one tiny thing that felt maybe, possibly, within his reach.

Or maybe he was just a sucker for a sob story and big sad eyes and abandoned dogs. It doesn't have to be that deep.

Miranda pops her head in from the back door where she'd disappeared to. "He said yes, of course. Come on and meet Tres. It'd be good for his socialization anyway, to meet some more people."

Well. At least this whole insane trip wasn't a total loss, then. He can go meet Tres and his new owner, play with a dog for a few minutes, and then drive back to his sad Airbnb so he can keep searching apartment listings. Buck makes his way across the lobby, towards the door that Miranda's holding open. Ducks out through the gap. Steps into a little back yard, lined with straggly grass and patches of sand. Looks around for Tres.

Finds himself looking at familiar blue eyes, instead.

"Evan?" Tommy says, staring right back at him like he's seeing a ghost. His eyes are wide, and so blue, and rimmed faintly red with exhaustion. Buck's pretty sure there's new lines in their corners, stupidly wants to reach out a run a gentle finger over them, to learn their new shapes. Clenches his hands into fists in his pockets to stop himself.

"T-tommy," he says, more breath than word. Has to swallow twice and clear his throat awkwardly before he tries again. "Hey. I, uh, I didn't know you were in the market for a dog."

Tommy shrugs, a little awkward. Something about the motion somehow makes those strong, wide shoulders seem small. "House was feeling too quiet. Thought a dog might help liven things up. Plus, I've always been weak for the puppy eyes." The last sentence comes out with the weight of a confession, too heavy for the back yard of an animal shelter with a soon-to-be-spoiled three-legged dog sniffing around by their feet.

Buck makes his lips curl up at the corner, pretends he doesn't notice it feels more like a grimace than a smile. "You've got good taste," he says, jerking his chin towards Tres. "I had my eyes on him this morning, too."

"Sorry," Tommy says, and it feels like he's talking about more than the dog. "Didn't mean to steal him from you."

It's Buck's turn to shrug, this time. He tries not to think about other things Tommy's stolen, not from him but for him. Tries to hold on to the fading memory of how he felt that sun-drenched morning in Eddie's kitchen, in that helicopter still full of hope over the LA skyline. Tommy's going to be good to Tres. Buck knows, because he was good to him, too. Besides, Tommy's got a solid house, big back yard and a fireplace just like he'd been picturing.

Buck's got no house, and no dog, and no one to go home to. He leans down to pet Tres instead of thinking about that. Lets Tres lick his face and slobber all over him. Pretends that's why dampness weighs down his lashes.

"I was just gonna take him home, get him settled in," Tommy says above him, after a few prolonged minutes of silence.

Buck get up, because he does know how to take a hint, sometimes. Time to get out of Tommy's hair, let him take home the dog he wants without the ex-boyfriend he didn't want. Doesn't meet Tommy's eyes as he turns to leave, because even he's got a limit for how pathetic he's willing to be in one day.

"Do you want to come with me?" Tommy says, the words uncharacteristically rushed.

Buck looks up with surprise. Tommy's got a hand rubbing against the back of his neck in a gesture Buck hasn't seen in ages.

"D-do you want me to?" Buck says. Tries not to feel like he's asking about more than just Tres. Fails. It's like they're having a whole second conversation--except they're not, because they haven't said more than maybe fifty words to each other and neither of them are actually saying it. So maybe it's all in Buck's head; maybe he's gotten so desperate that he's reading signs into innocent

Tommy's wide-eyed again, breathing a little fast and shallow. For a second, he looks almost panicked. Doesn't quite look at Buck as he reaches down to clip a leash onto Tres's collar, and lingers to pet down the line of Tres's spine with a huge hand.

When he stands back up, something in him has straightened. He's steady, looking Buck straight in the eyes as he nods firmly. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I want you to come home with me." Glances down at his feet, where Tres is sitting patiently with his tongue rolling out. "You and me and Tres."

They're still not talking, not really. Not about the them of it all But it's the closest they've come since the helicopter--no, since before that. Since that morning, maybe.

It feels like an invitation. Like a closed door, reopened. Like a second, third, fifth chance at something.

Buck leans down to give Tres one last pat--for luck, for hope, for gratitude, for courage. He takes the hand Tommy opens to him. Him and Tommy and Tres. It feels like a good place to start.

[drchucktingle]

autistic expression in a neurotypical art gallery

this morning i thought i would talk about AUTHOR VOICE specifically when it comes to AUTISM. as autistic author i have learned to turn the dial up and down when writing characters. rose from CAMP DAMASCUS is basically exactly where i rest on spectrum and this shows in a few ways

in roses internal monolog you will see that she uses phrases like ‘my friend’ to talk about folks where neurotypical buckaroos might just use first name. or with her parents she will think of them in FIRST NAME instead of ‘mom’ or 'dad’. this is way many autistic buds THINK

to explain this trot I will say it is not a way of disrespect or anything like that, it is simply that these terms are TECHNICALLY all correct and interchangeable. socially, autistic buds often learn to mask by pinpointing WHEN to use these words that logically the same to us.

in CAMP DAMASCUS i left these things in to create character, but if you go back in my writing you will see it. in TINGLERS this is because they are honest in PUNK ROCK way. unfiltered expressions. in earlier novels its admittedly just because i did not realize it was unusual yet

point is, ROSES internal dialog in camp damascus is neurodivergent and i CHOSE not to change her thought process in this way, because we are BOTH autistic. this can be a risk because some neurotypical buckaroos will read it and just think ‘what a strange way. this is bad writing’

camp damascus reviews are actually very good it is a very well received book by any measure, but you will see some folks kind of making fun of these traits (i do not think they would do this if they knew it was authentic autistic way BUT we cannot educate EVERYONE on this trot)

POINT IS i am now faced with an artistic choice in later books. do i write with my AUTISTIC voice even though some neurotypical readers find it awkward? in technical sense some readers WILL think each book is better if i eliminate my autistic tendencies in later edits

my advice is this: character voice IS SO IMPORTANT, but a big part of writing is finding the place between YOUR voice and your CHARACTER voice where both are authentically existing in some way. like acting, you are always bringing something of yourself even when you 'disappear'

when writing BURY YOUR GAYS i did not plan to make misha on the spectrum, but misha is part of me and i am on the spectrum. what i have realized over time is that ALL OF MY CHARACTERS will have these traits in some way because i wrote them, and i will never disappear completely

so when edits came for BURY YOUR GAYS and misha, i took that dial and i turned it farther towards neurotypical than i did with rose, BUT I DID NOT TURN IT OFF COMPLETELY. in literal sense, i left some of those ‘my friends’, because i will always bring MY VOICE to my art as well

i am proud of being on the spectrum. while my voice may not hit every convention of ‘good writing’ it is authentically ���MY writing’ and i think that is more important than any outside checklist for ‘correct literary expression’. and guess what THE RESULTS ARE IN, MY BOOKS DO WELL

so if you are an artist getting feedback or reviews, consider which parts you can LEARN FROM and grow and change, and which parts are just AUTHENTICALLY YOU. because while your honesty may defy conventions and seem unusual to some folks, IT IS OFTEN WHAT MAKES YOUR ART SING

feel free to turn that dial marked 'YOUR TRUE VOICE' up and down when it makes sense. i do this all the time. but i have long since decided i will never turn that dial OFF completely. your voice is your POWER buckaroo, dont be afraid to sing with it