#☆ oh things couldn't be worse... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lewismcqueen · 9 days ago

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salt.

op81 x reader

summary: it's your penultimate summer at camp half-blood, and you run into a familiar face. wc: 2k cw: near-drowning a/n: ummm hi this is my first fic for oscar and I also wanted to get into the groove of writing chb x f1 aus! have this little one-shot while I get the hang of things (this was NAWT proofread) <3 if you have any questions or kindly-worded feedback, don't be scared to say hi! moodboard!

People always turn to the water when they’re trying to escape something.

A shitty boss, a hectic work week, a bit of relief after final exams. Or sometimes the risk of drowning still feels safer than whatever awaits you on shore. The ocean’s depths are the sort of deep blue that is so rich and true that it looks like protection. Her width is mistaken for open arms.

This is the error you make when you decide to surf your problems away one day, hoping that maybe catching a wave will take your mind off of the looming spectre of college admissions. Your second-to-last trip to Camp Half-Blood before you’re left to figure it all out on your own. Instead, you come face to face with a wave that rises far too high, and suddenly you're clinging to a piece of coral as it wreaks havoc just above the surface. The sound of rushing water is all you can hear, and your chest is tightening. You’re running out of breath. Fast.

Your head begins to feel light, and the world feels like it’s floating away from you no matter how fast you blink your eyes to try to remain on earth. Just before it all goes dark, you think you hear some kid’s voice. It sounds male, and he’s yelling, but distantly. Maybe he’s actually trying to welcome you into heaven or something. Man, you really wanted to tour Spelman’s campus first, at least…

For the next few moments, everything is dark and warm. A few moments more, and you realize that you’re laying on your back, the warmth coming from soft sand. There’s blue sky, but it is interrupted by the dark silhouette of…someone hovering over you. Your eyes sting with saltwater as you blink slowly. The silhouette speaks.

“Oh, thank God. You alright? Can you speak?”

You try to, but coughs wrack your throat and chest instead as your body expels more water.

“Whoah, easy there.”

When you can finally get words out, your vocal chords scrape together painfully.

“Where’s my surfboard?” you rasp.

As your vision clears, the silhouette becomes a pale-looking, wavy-haired brunette, freckled cheeks reddened with sunburn. His eyes look dark at first, but then you realize that they’re really a stormy grey. They squint as he stares at you, perhaps in disbelief that you’ve just nearly drowned and the first thing you ask for is your surfboard.

“It’s swimming with the fishes, I’m afraid. Would’ve dove down deeper to get it for you but,” he shrugs, “you were kinda drowning.”

“Damn,” Your lips jut outwards in a pout as you sit upright, dark elbows dusted with sand. There’s a twinge of pain there as if you’d been cut. You’ll have to check that out later.

“That thing was expensive.”

The boy raises an eyebrow. “Well I’ll be sure to have my priorities straight next time.”

You're sweating through your orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt beneath your armor as you stalk through the forest, hand resting at the hilt of your sword. Three years ago, the beads collecting at your hairline would've had you worrying about the state of your baby hairs, but you had learned to wait until after training to gel them down. There was no point getting dolled up otherwise. You weren't in Aphrodite's cabin - no one cared how you looked.

A light breeze picks up and carries with it the smell of murky water. Sure enough, you come up on the lake. Your fingers tighten around the hilt. You had instructions to remain on high alert and—much to your disappointment—defend. Still, the possibility of some twerp coming around here to take a break or grab a sip? Never zero. Maybe you’ll get an easy battle.

The snapping of a twig near the foot of the lake proves you right, and you immediately spin on your heel towards the sound, drawing your sword. It points at the pale, freckled face of a camper you don’t recognize from the previous summer, slick with sweat and flush from exertion beneath a helmet plumed with the opposition’s blue feathers. A section of brunette hair falls over his face, curling just so. His expression is oddly calm, dark grey eyes widened but not darting around.

It’s…familiar.

Your eyes become saucers.

“Oh, shit! You’re that Aussie kid from the beach!”

He doesn’t say anything, just shrugs while his hands remain held out in defense. You can see small scratches on his palms and up his arms, likely from thorned plants he’d failed to avoid. His awkward half-smile doesn’t feel appropriate for the current situation given that—if you're guessing correctly—he has neither shield nor sword at his hip. Newbie must’ve lost them somewhere in battle.

You lower your weapon, but don’t sheath it. “Well? Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”

“Aren’t you gonna put the pointy sword away before trying to chat me up?” He responds without missing a beat. He shifts his weight on the uneven ground, and you can tell he isn’t used to the weight of his armor. What harm could he possibly do?

You shrug, and finally sheath your sword. “Fine. Name?”

He lowers his hands slowly, his shoulders appearing to relax in what looks like a sigh of relief.

“Oscar.”

“Like…like The Grouch?” you snort.

Oscar presses his lips into a thin line. He’s heard that one before.

“Whatever helps you remember it.”

The conversation is interrupted by the sound of voices yelling in the distance. One of them you recognize as Kimi’s, who showed up only last summer and was already hell to spar with. Based on the intonation and volume of his shouting, he’s chasing someone down. Oscar tenses, and he toggles his gaze between you and the direction of all the commotion. His eyes seem to plead for help, and you almost laugh. This kid doesn’t know the half of how things work around here.

As the yelling draws nearer, accompanied with the crunching of leaves and twigs beneath frantic footsteps, you draw your sword (not pointed in his face this time) and give him a reassuring look.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let ‘em toss you around…” you mutter the tail-end of the sentence under your breath. “...much.”

A flurry of helmets break through the foliage, the majority of them red save for the poor kid being chased - Ollie from the Aphrodite cabin, you realize. Kimi is the main hunter, and the most enthusiastic at that. He’s followed closely by Doriane and Amna, who look about ready to pounce until Amna catches your eye. Her brows furrow in confusion for a moment, until you throw her a wink. Her expression relaxes, and she smiles conspiratorially. She’s had a few summers to get familiar with your strategy.

Kimi, not so much.

“You are fraternizing with the enemy?!?” he yells, letting Ollie clamber away from the group. It doesn’t matter, he’s running in the wrong direction anyway. Owlish brown eyes settle on his new target.

“Chill out,” you yell back. “This is Oscar. He’s new here, but he saved me from drowning a couple months back.”

You look back at Oscar, tilting your head towards your teammates as a signal to step in front of you. He does, even waving at them tentatively. You thank the gods above he’s stupid.

“Hey Oscar,” Amna greets with a knowing grin. “Know who your godly parent is yet?”

“Uh, no,” Oscar scratches the back of his neck, “I’m stuck at the Hermes cabin, for now.”

“Good. Means they can’t protect you.”

He pauses, eyes widening. “Wait, what—”

Your sword is at his throat before he can even finish the sentence.

“Sorry, buddy. We’re taking you hostage. You’ll show us the way, right?”

Poseidon must have a sense of humor, because Oscar gets claimed in the bathroom that very same day.

See, Chloe wanted revenge after he’d apparently chucked his shield at her during Capture the Flag. According to her, Oscar ran to hide inside of a bathroom stall with his tail between his legs. But the moment she corners him - just as they're about to get into a

“fair fight”?

WHAM!

Chloe gets slammed into the tile wall by a powerful stream of toilet water. By the time she came to, Oscar was staring at something above his head. She followed his gaze, and her jaw dropped.

A trident.

Now Oscar sits by himself at table three, staring down into his plate like it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. Chloe passes by him to get to the Ares table with a scowl, but gives him a wide berth. Everyone steers clear. You feel bad for him - knowing how these things go, the bathroom debacle likely wasn't his fault.

You take a final bite of your pizza slice before rising from your seat, the decision already made before either Doriane or Amna can stop you. The two girls just look at each other and giggle.

When he looks up at you, you notice that Oscar's eyes already have bags underneath them.

“Must've been a weird day for you.”

He shrugs. “Believe it or not? I've had weirder days.”

You take a seat next to him on the warped wooden bench, and realize he unfortunately does smell a bit like toilet water.

“You've survived this long while being Big Three. I can imagine.”

His brows knit together. “ ‘Big Three’?”

“Poseidon, Hades, Zeus,” you rattle off as if you've given this speech before. “The Big Three. Makes you smell extra tasty to monsters.”

Oscar's expression darkens at the mention of monsters, his eyes darting back and forth as the gears in his head begin to turn.

“Interesting,” is all he says after a moment of pause.

You give him a teasing grin. “You do know who those three are, right? I don't have to explain basic Greek mythology to you?”

A tiny grin plays on Oscar's lips.

“No, I know. And here I thought I was just a really good lifeguard.”

Your smile settles into something more earnest as you push back a stray braid.

“Thank goodness you're not, otherwise I don't think either of us would've made it here for the summer.”

Oscar is quiet for a moment, looking down at his lap before speaking again.

“...Do we really have to do the sacrifice thing?”

You laugh, the question reminding you of yourself. “Yup, every time. Whether you think they deserve it or not. I've already given up a slice of pizza.”

He nods slowly.

“Shame. This steak's really good.”

Oscar gets up with his plate in-hand, moving toward the fire where he dumps the remainder of his meal. The flames rise a little when he does so, lapping it up. You swear the flames seem alive sometimes.

“Thank you, by the way,” you tell Oscar once he returns. “Never said it properly.”

“What for?”

You laugh and give him a light smack on the arm. “For saving my life, idiot!”

He goes red at the realization, which makes you laugh even harder.

“Sorry,” Oscar tries on a more comfortable smile. “Still reeling from getting sprayed with toilet water after being in an active hostage situation.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You're not still hung up on that, are you?”

“It’s literally my first day!”

“So? I had to battle Chloe on my first day. Ever had to fight off an overconfident Ares kid? She nearly skewered me.”

Oscar winces. “So I'll have to get used to that then.”

“Probably. I'm sure you'll make some friends though,”

You elbow him, and he doesn't try to defend himself. “I'll try not to let my cabin mates jump you next training session.”

“You said that last time.”

“Hm. True. Pinky promise?”

You raise your pinky finger. Around it is a silver ring with a tall, noble-looking owl on it, its wise face illuminated by the orange flames.

Oscar stares at it for a moment, then meets your eyes. He wraps his pinky around yours.

“I hope you know that's like, legally binding.”

“I don't make promises I can't keep.”

Doriane’s voice cuts through the din of noise.

“Hey, lovebirds! Lewis is starting the sing-a-long!”

You roll your eyes, snatching your pinky back as quickly as possible. Sure enough, you can hear the strumming of the counselor’s guitar.

“I gotta go. You gonna be alright, Grouch?”

Oscar blinks. “What did you just call me?”

You shrug as you swing your legs over the bench, “You said whatever helps remember your name. Your name's Oscar, and you barely smile. It's too easy, man.”

“I'm never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope!”

You don't see Oscar watching your retreating figure as you jog back to the Athena table, a big, goofy smile spreading on his face.

#oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #oscar piastri x black!reader #f1 x reader #lightning writes #☆ oh things couldn't be worse...

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razzle-zazzle · 4 months ago

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thought too long about Cavisuwa & Stanny's relationship in Bad End and started losing my mind because oh my god. oh my goddddd cavisuwa you cunt

this uh. this got long + death & alcohol & small snippet so i'm putting it under a cut

They're such idiots. If Stan hadn't been kidnapped then people would have listened to Tweek about Craig and if Craig hadn't been possessed then they could have gotten Stan out of the woods. Stan and Craig doomed each other, indirectly, without ever really knowing, and Stanny and Cavisuwa are gonna keep dooming each other. they don't even have any kind of relationship for the first five years of Cavi's takeover because Stanny's out in the woods with the critters. And then a piece of the resistance goes deep enough into the woods that Kyle and Stan finally reunite.

And just like that, Stanny and Cavisuwa are enemies, lightning and fire and blood every time they clash. The only one powerful enough to give the other pause. A possessed god and a feral demon attack dog. They don't hate each other, exactly, but Kyle and Cavisuwa oppose each other and even if Stanny can only remember his childhood before the woods in scattered pieces—it's Kyle. Of course Stanny's gonna claw and bite and take every inch of spite and violence he learned out in those woods and turn it against the world for Kyle's sake. They're Super Best Friends!

But Cavisuwa refuses to have his power contested and the woodland critters don't like how Stanny's starting to pull away from them in favor of Kyle and all it really takes is a few meetings. An offered human sacrifice. A few words about how really, don't you think this Kyle is such a terrible influence on your son, Deery? Don't you think the chaos I've caused would be so much better for him? You care so much about your little fawn, and now he's pulling away from you. And that's all it takes and next thing Stanny knows Kyle is dead, killed by infighting in the very resistance he believed in according to the Woodland Critters, who all crowd around and try to comfort him. And it's devastating and cruel and Kenny and Tolkien and Wendy know there's nobody in the resistance who would've wanted Kyle dead but Cavisuwa's half a world away and Kyle wasn't killed with lightning anyway. But it doesn't matter because Stanny's already retreated back into the woods and Kenny's dead in the snow from the outburst.

And it's there in those woods, far away from anything and anyone, that Cavisuwa finds Stanny, alone but for the same deer that Cavisuwa talked to so recently. They almost fight. Stanny's certainly upset enough for it. But Cavisuwa's just oh-so surprised that Kyle's not there, that Stanny's so far away from where the resistance is likely located, what happened to the loyal little guard dog that almost ripped Cavisuwa's arm off?

"He's dead." Stanny grits out. He lifts the bottle to his mouth and chases the bottom, not caring what Guinea Bastard does next.

Cavisuwa laughs, this soft thing that's so unlike the few memories of Craig Stanny still has. "Surprised it took this long." He murmurs, floating down to stand on the snow. "Humans are a plague," he hisses, "you just can't rely on them."

Stanny opens his mouth—to say what, he's not quite sure—until he realizes that they really are alone, not even the guy that Stanny's pretty sure must be Clyde anywhere in sight. He huffs. "You still keep them around." He points out, not inaccurately.

"Doesn't mean I trust them." Cavisuwa responds, sparks flickering idly in his hands. "They're only useful to a point."

Stanny falls back until he's laying in the snow, staring up at the sky. He's not sober—he hasn't been in a while. Maybe once or twice while Kyle was still alive, but—well. "Kyle's trustworthy." He defends.

"Except he's dead now." Cavisuwa states, leaning forwards to look Stanny directly in the eyes. Electric blue meets baby blue, like so many times before when they'd been trying to kill each other, grappling in the air on the ground trying to tear each other apart—there's no hostility. No flash in those eyes signalling an incoming laser, nothing but a calm contentment. "And doesn't that just tear you up?" He asks, lips pulling back to show off teeth, "That the one person who you thought would never leave got taken from you, and won't come back?" Cavisuwa's egging Stanny on, voice harsh and bright and perfect for riling Stanny up.

To the side, Deery watches. She nods, slightly, and says nothing.

"Don't you wanna make the world hurt?" Cavisuwa continues, "Don't you wanna watch it burn like it burned you?"

Stanny breathes deeply. The bottle is empty in his hands. He sits up slowly, laboriously, and the bottle refills as Deery nods her head again. Somehow, through the usual drunken haze, Stanny manages to pull together enough suspicion to ask, "What's in it for you?" Because doesn't Cavisuwa have an empire to protect? Temples he'd rather not see destroyed? Infrastructure that propagates his rule?

"There are plenty of places I'd love to see destroyed." Cavisuwa shrugs, leaning back and holding out his hand (Craig's hand, some part of Stanny's mind notes, but it's small and really kind of unimportant). "And, if I'm being honest," Cavisuwa glances away, then looks back at Stanny with a lazy grin and bright blue eyes. "I've always been a little jealous of Kyle—you and I have so much in common."

"We do?" Stanny stands, without taking Cavisuwa's offered hand, stretching his arms. His antlers are heavy on his head—but they'll be gone by the time the winter snow starts hitting in earnest. And he's lived with them for years, now, so the weight is barely a footnote as far as Stanny's concerned.

"We both may have human bodies," Cavisuwa spits the word human like a curse, "but we're not really like those pathetic little monkeys, are we?" He nods, "We're something more, you and I, and, well—can you really say you don't hate mankind for what they'd do to your family? For what they did to your best friend?"

And it's true, isn't it? Stanny thinks back to a half-remembered childhood in that hick town, to a weed farm he hated and baby cows tied to stakes and a scoutmaster who got fired for being "different". There's so many things missing, in his recollection of it all, but isn't what he can remember enough to go off of—it must be.

And it's not like Stanny's really all that human anymore, is he? If he ever was, which he doubts. He's always been a Woodland Critter, even back before he knew it. The weight of his antlers is suddenly much more prominent.

Cavisuwa's head tilts slightly, hand still outstretched. He's not really a demon, insofar as Stanny can tell, but he's got the vibe what with this whole possession thing. The cloak made of giant guinea pig fur matches the pelts Stanny learned to cover himself in, sparks of lightning in Cavisuwa's eyes not so different from the hellfire Stanny carries.

They really are kindred spirits, aren't they?

"Okay." Stanny takes Cavisuwa's hand. It feels hot and sharp, static jumping between them. It feels like a pact, an unbreakable deal. It feels like a promise and a surrender.

It feels like maybe Stanny's just found a new friend.

#south park #bad end au #cavisuwa #stan marsh #kyle and craig are mentioned and craig's technically there in body #zaz writes #they're so. oh my god. stanny allies with kyle and can stand up to cavisuwa #so cavisuwa gets deery to murder kyle and pin it on the resistance #before swooping up to take advantage of it like the manipulative bitch he is #AND!!! JUST LIKE HOW CRAIG AND STAN'S BAD ENDS CAUSED EACH OTHERS BAD ENDS #CAVISUWA USES THEM BOTH!!! CRAIG AS A WEAPON & HOST BODY STANNY AS A WEAPON!!!#tho tbf cavi uses everyone. he's a bitch like that #and then i didn't even get to it in this post but the pact cavi & stanny make really does doom them both #like. they couldn't even stay working together for five years. maybe even less #and even when they do work together after their initial blowup/breakup they are so constantly five seconds away from backstabbing each othe #and it's stanny that destroys cavisuwa!!! via exorcism!!!#which then leads to craig destroying stanny!!!! <- i need to explain this in more detail at some point #but OUGH AUGH THE WAY STANNY WAS STARTING TO RECOVER ALONGSIDE KYLE #THE WAY IF THINGS CONTINUED HE COULD HAVE BEEN A HERO #BUT THEN CAVI GETS DEERY TO KILL KYLE AND SENDS STANNY BACK ONTO AN EVEN WORSE PATH #i just. oh my god. oh my godddd this au #i wouldn't say that cavi/stanny counts as staig since craig is not a willing participant in any of this #but it's like. staig-adjacent in a fucked up kinda way #death tw #alcohol tw #(stanny is. quite predictably. an alcoholic)

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