#at least not a lot. and it's two freaking weeks and we'd be working there too but in a different environment / culture

[disdaidal]

Okay, so, now my school might be arranging a 2-week on-the-job-learning trip to Portugal in November-December, for those interested in / lack of experience from foreign countries... but I don't know if I can even apply there now because there's a possibility that my schedule could be filled with other kind of stuff that we're supposed to be doing for this degree at the same time, so. 🙃 I'm kinda mad ngl.

[billthedrake]

CAMP DADDY

"You got this, Carter," I heard from behind me. It was Dave, the guy at the camp I'd bonded with the most.

I wasn't sure I had it. Over the last week we'd done a lot of challenging stuff... long hikes, swimming races, rock climbing, you name it. But the spelunking was freaking me out a little, between the darkness and the tight spaces. I didn't realize I had claustrophobia, but I guess I did. I was hyperventilating.

"Come on, relax, bro," my buddy said. "One inch at a time. I'm right behind ya, man."

I pushed through. And once I cleared into a bigger part of the cave, I saw more headlamps ahead. I unclenched my held breath.

***

I'd been a real fuck up of a teenager. That's why I was here at this Outward Bound camp. Strike one was shoplifting and getting caught for it. Strike two was yelling at my dad and calling him a piece of shit, on his birthday no less. Strike three was the ketamine use. The next weekend Dad was shipping me off to this godforsaken place in the woods upstate. He wasn't going to pay for baseball, college, or my car if I didn't go. So I did.

The first couple of days I gave a bunch of lip to the counselors. I couldn't stand their fake-cheery demeanor or their 12-step BS. "Stay strong," we had to say at the end of each "huddle" meeting. Like it was fucking church.

But I was smart, smart enough how to play this. I knew I should just lay low, go along with it enough. It was just three weeks.

It helped that I bonded with Dave the first day. He was another baseball jock and cynical too. We made fun of the Sunday School teacher vibe of the lead counselor Mr. Connell. Only at Outward bound we were supposed to call the counselors by first name.

Dave had been there a week. "At least all the physical stuff is good exercise," he said. "I'm actually getting in really great shape for next season."

It was true. There was a gym, too, in the common room of the main cabin basement. Kind of a basic barbells and benches kind of gym but a lot of us jocks would work out together, until I got annoyed by them too. Other than Dave, they all bought into the 12 step crap.

I started talking to Pete, a punk guy with a shaved head and a permanent snarl on his face. He was cool. He wasn't just cynical, he'd talk back to the counselors. But one day he was just gone. No Pete.

***

Maybe unconsciously I was trying to get Pete's fate. Get out of this fucking place. I thought three weeks would go fast, but a week and a half had drained me. I mouthed off to Mr. Connell. Sorry, to "Mike." He smiled in that fakey way and tried to be zen about it. But I was getting to him. After dinner I sulked on my own. I'd started to realize Dave was in on it. Playing normal to get my confidence and win me over to the Program.

I was wallowing in self-pity sure, because I knew I was crushed out on Dave. I'd hidden the gay thing pretty well my last few years, but now I didn't have booze or pot or drugs to push my feelings down. Maybe that's why I was acting out, I don't know. My body was just a mess of hormones and my brain a bunch of conflicted thoughts.

***

I woke up in a room that was identical to the two-bed cabin I'd been sleeping in with another guy Zach. Only it wasn't the same room and there was no Zach. On the other full bed a man sat reading a book, kind of a big beefy-but trim older man, dressed in joggers and a zip-up athletic top that clung to his thick muscle. I thought it was a sex dream, but the second I realized it was real I jolted awake, sitting up straight in my small bed.

"Wait, who are you?" I blurted out. This man wasn't one of the counselors. He was older, with salt-and-pepper hair trimmed short. Probably in his early 50s.

Patiently the man set down his book. He didn't have that fakey-nice look but was on the sterner side of normal. "You can call me Daddy," he said. He had a smooth tenor voice.

This was weirder than a dream. "What the fuck?!" I yelled. "I'm not fucking calling you Daddy. Where's Zach? Where are the other guys?"

He shrugged. "You didn't like the other guys," Daddy explained. "We had to change plans."

I was freaking out now. More than in that dark cave. I jolted up and ran to the door. This cabin wasn't in a big compound but was attached to a single small room with a window overlooking the mountains. I looked back on the bed. The man was surprisingly calm, like he expected my reaction, or worse. That was one thing that made me try to check my emotion, to use my head. I knew how these fuckers worked.

"This is kidnapping," I said. I was realizing I must have been drugged to be moved entirely to this new place.

Daddy shook his head. "Fraid not. And we suggested to your father that we extend your stay here to two months. He agreed it's needed. We'll add more if takes all summer.

I broke down. Tears welled up in my eyes. I wasn't going to let this asshole see me cry, and yet I already was. Defeated, I sat on the bed facing away from him.

"It's OK," he said, with terse reassurance. "It's tough here. I'll make breakfast for when you're ready."

***

I gave him the silent treatment. Unlike the Outward Bound counselors he didn't try to make me talk. Maybe he was giving me the silent treatment too, maybe he realized a one-way conversation was useless.

I got dressed and while Daddy was showering up, I stepped out of the small cabin. There was a trail, and it had to lead somewhere. I took one look back into the cabin, then took off.

Fortunately the trail split a few times so if Daddy followed me he'd have a hard time catching up. I don't know why I hadn't thought of escaping before.

I got lost. Real fucking lost. The deeper into the woods I got, the less sense I had of where to go. The day went on. I got hungry. I kept walking. I expected to hear a highway or cars or people or some sign of civilization. Nothing.

I was freaking out. I stopped and sat on a tree trunk. Crying. There was no Dave urging me on. No "stay strong" mantra. No other guys. It was just me, fucking up again. My stomach rumbled, and I felt thirsty. It was getting dusk. I couldn't believe I'd have to sleep out here, but my big fear was wondering if I'd ever get back.

I heard rustling on the trail. Then saw a flashlight and the dark imposing figure of a 6'4" man coming my way. It was Daddy.

"Here," he said, offering me a sandwich and water. "Have this, then we'll head back."

I was too grateful and relieved to mouth off. But on our walk back I had a realization. "You knew I was here," I said.

"Yes," Daddy replied. They probably had a tracking chip in my clothes somehow.

"And you made me wait here alone."

"Yes," he admitted. "You had to learn the hard way, Carter." There was an undercurrent of empathy to his voice.

***

It took me a couple of days, but I opened up. And once I started talking, you couldn't shut me up, it felt like. I talked about my problems, and Daddy listened. It was like a therapy session and a buddy conversation, from breakfast till night.

Daddy was the first man I told I was gay. We were sitting on the Adirondack chairs outside, enjoying the view of the mountains and the sunset and I just went there. I confessed my problems dating girls and the times I got erection problems during sex.

"I told them I was drunk, but I wasn't," I said.

"I'd have done the same," Daddy said in his mellow voice.

That caught me off guard. I tried to read him, but he was still an enigma to me. A flash of me wondered if he was into men. The dude was jacked for his age, and I got a flash of excitement imagining him having sex.

Daddy was counselor, captor, friend, and father figure rolled into one. "What's your deal, man?" I asked. Not hostile like before, but probing. "Here I am spilling my guts out and I don't even know your name."

He smiled but just kept his even manner. "You don't need to know name, just Da..."

"I know," I interrupted. "You're 'Daddy.'"

Something about my exasperated tone made him smile. And maybe relent. "I did Outward Bound when I was your age. I acted out, got into trouble," he explained. "The Program set me straight."

"Was the program as unconventional when you did it?" I gestured around to the isolated cabin where I was more or less hostage.

That got a grin. "More so."

I was curious. "Did you have a Daddy?"

He nodded. "I did." He took a sip from the can of soda. "Later he taught me how to be a Daddy."

I still didn't get whatever psychoanalytic babble the Program was tapping into, but Daddy's words did make me think.

"You know what makes me, mad?" I asked.

"What?"

"This shit's probably working."

That got a chuckle. "You'll be glad when it's over Carter."

It was dark now and it felt darker out here in the middle of nowhere. "You ready for bed, kiddo?"

It was the first time Daddy used that nickname. But I replied I was.

We'd talked so much we were pretty quiet now as we went inside and got ready for bed. Normally Daddy slept in a T-shirt and shorts but that evening he peeled off his shirt. In the lamplight I could admire the powerful chest muscle and ripped abs. Best of all that DILF body was covered in a trimmed coat of salt-and-pepper fur. Before Daddy I didn't realize I was into older men. Now, I had to check my gaze.

"It's ok to look, buddy," the man said. His voice was as soft and encouraging as I'd ever heard it.

"What?" I replied in a checked grunt.

He tossed the shirt aside and turned to face me directly. He was a masculine god, even more alluring for his quiet nature. "It's OK to look," he repeated. "That's what Daddies are for."

The words were fucked up but they gave me a boner, instantly. I couldn't help it.

Daddy saw and was unfazed, peeling down his joggers to show off his soft genitals. That cock was meaty and matched the low-hanging full nuts in their shaved-smooth sac. It wasn't the first cock I'd seen of course, but it was the first live one I'd seen in a sort of sexual situation.

He walked over and pulled down the bed sheets. Daddy's backside was just as magnificent as his front. Strong back and a meaty round ass, the kind I didn't know 50-something men had. But Daddy had one.

My body was shaking, nervously, but the man was acting normal, getting into bed and pulling up the sheet to his abdomen. He gave one more look over.

"If you want to join me Carter, that's your move."

I didn't know if this was some Outward Bound trap or mindgame. A part of me didn't care, I was so horny. It's as if my brain couldn't stop my body from slipping out of my bed and crossing over. The one thing that gave me courage was seeing Daddy scoot his bed to the side to give me room to get in as he lifted the sheet a little. I could see a flash of his erection, even, thick and meaty like him.

"Stay strong, kiddo," he said softly and I nodded, getting into the bed to join him, my body shaking.

"There," he grinned as I finally settled into a lying position next to him. I could feel the heat of his body even if I was afraid to touch him still.

"You're first time with a man?" Daddy asked.

"Yes, Daddy." It was the first time I called him that. It made him smile, which made me glad.

His fingers touched my flank. I was still wearing my shorts but was shirtless and the skin contact felt incredible. This wasn't faking it with a girl.

"You're a very handsome young man, Carter," Daddy said in that soft tenor voice of his. "I'm honored to be your Daddy."

With that the mean leaned in and placed his lips against mine. It was my first kiss with a man, and nothing prepared me for it. A tingle went up my body and my prick surged even harder in my shorts. Particularly when Daddy's tongue pressed forward between my lips and into my mouth.

I was following his lead. Daddy was my coach at that moment. Coach in life and Coach in sex. I couldn't have dreamed of a better one. It was intense and sexual and passionate, but we also took our time.

As we got into it, I got the courage to feel him. His hairy, muscular, warm body. I reached down and touched his cock, hard and alive in my grip. My first dick, and one I'd never forget.

The way I moaned made Daddy pull back from the kiss.

"You like that, buddy?" he grinned.

"Yes, sir," I hissed.

"You like dick," he said with assured ease. "Don't let anyone make you think you're a lesser man because of it."

"No, Daddy," I replied, gripping his boner one last time before relinquishing it. I had to feel up the rest of him, too. More.

He slipped my shorts down, at least from one side till I decided to help him out. My dick was sap-wet and as rigid as I had ever remembered it being.

"You're not the only one," he said. "Not the only young man into dick. Your buddy Dave..." he started.

That jolted me in surprise. "For real?"

Daddy nodded. His hand now circled around my crotch before his fingers grazed my boner. "For real."

I don't know if it was jealousy or something else I was feeling. "You do stuff with him?" I asked.

The man shook his head. "No. He has a different Daddy," he explained, pausing before deciding his could share the information. "Connell."

Well, fuck me, I thought. The last thing I would expect.

Now Daddy's lips were on my neck, kissing me as his hand alternated between massaging my smoother body and stroking my cock. "You up for the full ride tonight, Carter?" he asked.

If he'd asked me that even an hour before, I would have chickened out. But the body contact and the sexual intimacy made me want it all.

"Yeah, Daddy, I do," I answered. "Stay strong, right?"

That got a laugh. He leaned up. I'd never seen him look so hot, so handsome. "Yeah, kiddo... that's right. Stay strong." He leaned in for another kiss, softer this time. It felt right. Righter than right.

Then he started working his way down, kissing my chest and abs, feeling me up some, telling me he was going to take his time.

I got my dick sucked for the first time. I got my balls licked. Then Daddy urged me to pull back my legs and proceeded to give me my first rim job.

I decided then and there that two months here wasn't going to be enough. I hoped my Dad would keep me here the whole damn summer.

"Oh fuck!" I hissed. It was stimulating and naughty and tickling at the same time. I loved getting eaten out. I didn't have anyone to compare it to, but Daddy was a pro. Eager, intense yet also working in some finesse to keep it intersting.

I slowly relaxed my hole. My whole body was relaxed, in fact, lying back into the bed, looking up at the ceiling as I kept my legs pulled back for Daddy.

The first finger entry caught me by surprise. I looked down to see Daddy's brown eyes fixed on me, as he worked his finger in and out.

"Stay strong, buddy," he urged softly.

"Fuck yeah, Daddy," I replied. Trying to be his good soldier. Daddy was gonna make me a man that night, and I wanted to be all man for him.

He finally pulled back and reached over. I didn't even notice the little jar there before, but Daddy unscrewed the lid and dug in. There was some liquidy grease that coated his fingers.

And now my asshole. Damn, it made his two fingers feel incredible going in. And out. And in again.

"Yeah, you're hungry, kiddo."

I grunted. Those fingers were feeling intense in a great way, but short circuiting my thought. I flashed to think of Dave, imagining Mike Connell doing this to him.

A third finger now breached my relaxed ring. It gave a few gentle prods then pulled out.

"You're ready."

The man scooted in place, his hard dick standing straight up from his hairy crotch that was still darker brown than his chest hair. I had felt but not gotten a real good look at his cock, but Daddy was real thick and maybe 6.5 inches in length. The guy was horned up, too, judging by how rigid his meat was. He slathered some of that grease on his boner and pushed it down to line himself up.

"The entry might be tough," he warned. "Or not."

"You better not say, 'Stay strong,'" I joked.

That got a laugh out of the man. "You're all man, Carter," he said.

And like that his cock was breaching my hole.

"Unnfg!" I let out, before I caught myself. The sting surprised me. It didn't hurt too bad, but the unfamiliarity of it freaked me out some.

Daddy's hands rand along my abs, gently, coaxing me silently to relax. I tried, until I was successful. More dick slid into me. The man was patient, but I could tell he was really turned on.

I was getting my cherry taken away, and I was thrilled, particularly when Daddy's cock bored deeper. Weirdly, the deeper the man went the better it felt. Daddy felt bigger than 6.5 inches. Maybe I'd underestimated his size, maybe it was just the psychological effect of having him buried inside me.

"Fuck yeah, kiddo," Daddy growled. "Take it."

I looked up at him. The man was a stud who knew what he was doing. "You done this before?" I asked. "Taken a guy's virginity?"

The question caught him off guard. It was almost like he didn't want to answer me. But he looked down with those soulful brown eyes and replied, "I have, Carter. Many times." He pulled his hips back and thrust in. THAT felt fricking amazing and I held onto his meaty arms. Then again. "But I care about each and every one," he added. His thrusts got faster, as Daddy intuited I was receptive. "I care about you, kiddo."

Daddy was taking me there. Physically and psychologically, he was showing me how amazing getting fucked could be. The man wasn't rough, but he pumped faster and harder. He was teaching me I loved it that way. I held on and looked up at him and felt my prick quiver.

"Fuck me, Daddy!" I hissed.

"Yeah, kiddo. Daddy's got ya." His body seemed in control but his breath was ragged and heavy. The man was turned on like hell.

That thick cock seemed a blur inside me now, its way in my tunnel greased up and the heavy hard rod punching some spot inside me.

I dind't realize I was so close to cumming until Daddy's greased fist wrapped around my bone. Not even needing to stroke it, just touching me made me fire off. I saw white, and my body felt hot and tense, then it all got released with a series of cum shots firing out of my young jock body.

I tried to keep my vision, to look up at Daddy in gratitude. To watch his own O face take over form the calm, collected surety of his experience. That got tossed out the window when Daddy came. He was as lost in pleasure as me. That made me happy.

We crashed together. Holding onto one another's hot sweaty bodies, them our lips meeting to kiss again.

"Oh buddy," he hissed finally. Like I was the one who'd done him a favor. Maybe I had.

We didn't talk after, we didn't need to. Instead, Daddy held me in a spoon position and we drifted off to sleep. At least for a few hours before we had sex again.

***

The next week, Daddy had me pack my backpack, and he led me back to main compound. I would have been sad our alone time was over, but I knew it wasn't going to be our last. Daddy didn't have to tell me. I just knew he'd be in my life from now on and me in his.

Punk dude Pete was back. His hair had grown out and was in a military buzz and his snarl was gone. Dave though was the one who welcomed me first with a bro hug. The other guys followed suit.

I wondered how many of them had a Daddy.

***

I was part of the Program now. Welcoming the newcomers. Bonding with the cynical ones. I'd been where they were and knew what they were going through. I'd been a fuck up, too.

Two months went by quickly. My Dad was there to pick me up. He had an apprehensive look on his face. Connell told me that Dad had been updated on my progress, but after what my father had been through maybe he was nervous I'd not been truly changed.

I had my mobile phone back, and I'd already looked at the last messages multiple times. "Stay strong, kiddo - Daddy." Then "You better stay in touch. Love ya, Carter."

I took one last look and tucked my phone into my pocket before running over to give my Dad a big hug.

"Damn, Sport."

Dad hadn't called me Sport in ages.

"Thank you, Dad," I said. There would be more to say later. But the look on his face was a huge reward. His fingers grazed behind my ear as he held my head steady and looked into my eyes. Like he was reunited with a son he'd lost for real.

"OK if we break up the journey home?" he asked, snapping out of his spell and grabbing my bag from me. "It's a long drive."

"Of course," I said.

We got settled into the front seat and Dad started the car. We made some small talk, and Dad caught me up on life back home. Though I didn't miss much, other than maybe Dad re-treating the wood on the back deck.

We were winding down the mountain and re-entering civilization. At least if these small, one-traffic-light towns counted as civilization.

Dad shifted from the small talk. "So... you survived OK, Son?"

I nodded. "More than survived, Dad. Thrived." I had bought into the whole Program now.

He seemed pleased. "I, um... heard from an old Army buddy of mine," he said. Something in his tone seemed laden with meaning. "He said he got to know you real well."

I blushed. I knew damn well my father was talking about Daddy.

"Yes, sir. We got real tight."

Dad had a good idea of what I meant. He gave a gentle nod and glanced over at me. "I'm glad to hear."

I was chubbing up in my jeans now thinking about Daddy. "OK if I go visit him sometime, Dad?" I asked.

Dad's voice got quiet. "That can probably be arranged."

I thought maybe I freaked my dad out. But we were quiet for a lot of that drive. It had been around 3PM when I'd checked out of the Compound, and it was getting dinner time.

I loved diner food and after two months of Outward Bound meals, I was ready for a real restaurant meal. I scarfed down my food, which amused Dad. "Looks like they haven't been feeding you, Sport," he said.

"They definitely don't believe in creature comforts," I said. I pulled out my phone. "This might have been the hardest thing to live without." I mostly was checking to see if Daddy sent me another message.

Dad laughed. Then he got serious. "So... no hard feelings, Carter?"

I sighed. "God, Dad. After what I did to you? What I put your through? I don't know how to make it up to you."

"You don't have to make anything up to me, Son. Just stay on the straight and narrow. At least till you find yourself."

I took that in. "I'm finding myself, Dad. For real."

"That's all a father can ask," he said.

Dad was normally not great at expressing emotion, and already he was itching to get the check and pay for the meal.

We drove a little bit more. Dad had me find an available hotel that wasn't too expensive. I don't think I realized until we checked in how long of a day it had been. Emotionally as much as anything.

I decided not to check my phone again. Daddy and I would find a groove to correspond and to meet again. I trusted him.

After I brushed my teeth, Dad was in one of the beds, watching TV on low volume. He wasn't build quite as strong as Daddy but his upper body was solid, and he had the same soft furry chest. As I stripped down to my briefs, Dad's eyes watched me furtively. Probing me with soft expectation.

I took the initiative this time. Just feeling Dad's eyes on my half-naked body was all the signal I needed. Pausing at my own bed, I turned back to him. "Ok if I join you instead?" I asked.

Dad was too scared to reply. But he nodded and slid over.

Only when I got into bed with him did I realize that Dad's bod was more solid than I initially thought. His clothes always hid the hard tone of his muscle and he had some love handles that stopped shy of a beer belly.

Our kiss was soft and taboo as fuck. Dad's hands clung to my body, like eagle talons. I pushed my tongue into my father's mouth and felt him plunge his back. Dad didn't kiss like Daddy did. It was hard and needy.

Just as impetuously he and I stripped down our underwear. Our dicks were a lot alike. Longer, regular thickness, with a gentle curve to the right, heaving leaking. Like twins. Dad looked down at mine, like I did at his.

"You're all grown up, Carter."

"Yeah, Dad." I reached down and touched his cock. My dad's cock. He wasn't Daddy, he wasn't my first man, but the forbidden aspect made it off the charts. "I gotta learn to be your son again, though."

Dad gulped. His eyes grew misty wet. "You never stopped, sport. Not even this last year."

We kissed. Dad was responding to my soft approach, like I'd responded to Daddy's. My hand ran along his strong chest and his softer middle as we made out. I felt every bit of guilt for how I'd treated Dad and it was coming out in the only way I knew. Like Dad, I wasn't good at expressing emotion.

But I was good at this.

I broke off the kiss with a playful smile. Dad seemed to be trying to read what I was thinking. I let him wonder a minute longer.

I scooted down, kind of kneeling on the bed, till I was face to face with the dick that made me. I touched it again, feeling its poker hot heat and its steel rigidity. I could smell his masculine scent.

"Sport..." he urged, as if telling me something.

His next words caught in his throat as I took his dick into my mouth. I paused a second. Daddy had instructed me in this, but my father's cock felt particularly dry until I summoned up some extra saliva. Then I went down on him, slowly, teasingly.

I was going to make things up to Dad in the way I knew how.

He placed his hand on my head, softly cradling it as I lovingly blew him to completion.

***

The next morning when Dad was in the shower I sent a text.

"Daddy, you didn't tell me you knew my father."

He was up and the reply was quick. "You had to find out for yourself." Then, "I hope you can be a junior counselor next summer."

I thought of what next year would mean. Being off at college, enjoying some independence. Making new friends.

But I knew that meant nothing. "You know I will," I wrote.

"Stay strong," Daddy replied.

"Stay strong," I wrote back, then set down my phone.

[evilwickedme]

What's your opinion on Lana Lang from Smallville? And Clark's obsession with her. Very strange!

Oh my gosh anon thank you so much for asking :) I have an entirely healthy amount of feelings about this show

Anyway Lana Long is top five worst characters I've ever had the displeasure of watching. So jot that down

Ok it's a little more complicated than that. Because the thing is early Smallville had a formula going on, you know? The kryptonite freak of the week would show up, wreak havoc, Clark would stop him, maybe learning how to use a new power in the meantime. And they also had a formula for the villain motivation - generally it was a metaphor or direct result of something related to puberty or growing up, although sometimes it was just LuthorCorp Bad™. Yeah, they had episodes that broke the formula, but that was the show for the most part. And generally, if the villain was a guy, he was fucking obsessed with Lana (sexual), and if the villain was a girl, she was fucking obsessed with Lana (jealous). Not every time. But a lot.

The show leaned hard on this aspect of Lana being the girl next door, the fact that she was pretty and popular and yet seemed so attainable due to her being Nice™. And when a show is as formulaic as early Smallville is... Honestly, that's fine. It grates on my nerves cause I can't stand her, but I honestly think that it isn't her fault this early on. She's got her own dynamic with every character and Clark having a crush on her makes total sense for his character.

The problem starts in season four.

Season four is where Smallville really started being a serialized show, with the ongoing plot taking front and center just as often as a freak of the week if not moreso. We're introduced to a new cast of characters, a whole world that Lionel Luthor is a part of, we've got Kryptonian mysteries going on, and we have the introduction of my beloved Lois Lane.

Which means, at the very least in the audience's mind, Lana Lang has some serious competition now. Because ffs, we know Lois is endgame. We knew Lois is endgame when we watched the pilot. We're watching a Superman origin story - at the end of the story he's going to be wearing a red cape, know his Kryptonian origin, go to work at the daily planet, and have a deep love for his coworker Lois Lane.

And Lois Lane is likeable from the very beginning. She's a little crass, but she's funny, she's clever, she's kind. The very first thing she does in the plot is find an amnesiac (basically possessed) Clark and take him to a hospital. Tom Welling and Erica Durance have insane amounts of chemistry. And there's just a general feeling that we're getting closer and closer to Superman, rather than just Clark Kent, farm boy with a crush on Lana Lang.

But they don't write Lana off the show. They keep her there for four and a half more seasons. And here is where the real issues start.

Firstly, Clark's crush was a little creepy sometimes from the very beginning because honestly, the early two thousands really thought that watching your neighbor with a telescope was romantic. But with Lois as competition, his crush for Lana has to become that much more intense, to explain why he doesn't just drop her and go with the obviously more enticing choice. And Lana herself has to morph, change into something a little more complex than "nice girl with a little ambition".

So the writers focused on aspects of her personality that we'd already seen, and amped them up to 100. Her curiosity becomes nosiness. Her ambition becomes bossiness and ruthlessness. And worst of all, they write her into a love triangle with fucking Lex Luthor.

Don't get me wrong, there's something so interesting and compelling about the friends to enemies arc that Lex and Clark have going on. It's just that when Clark and Lana are 14, Lex is fucking 21. It is in no way appropriate for Lex and Lana to get married. And it would've honestly been unimaginable with Lana's early characterization. But by season six, she's an extremely unpleasant person. But the writers don't want to give in to Superman's Destiny™ quite yet, so Clark still has to be interested in Lana, and the love triangle is a major component in the friends to enemies arc between Clark and Lex anyway, so Clark's crush on Lana becomes more and more unbearably intense until it is entirely an obsession.

And the thing is that Lois is still there. The writers do a phenomenal fucking job convincing us that Clark and Lois are so good for each other, years before they get together. But with Lana warping reality around her or whatever, they forget to write Clark moving on from her. And by season eight when it finally looks like Clark and Lois are going to get their shit together, Lana walks in and distracts Clark, again.

And the thing is, yes, I find Lana unbearable, and yes, I ship clois because I think they really are perfect for each other and they've chosen to stick by each other and be each other's pillar in life. But the biggest sin in my eyes is that the writers forgot to let Clark choose Lois over Lana. By that point, they've written themselves into such a tight corner that this version of Clark can't just get over Lana and choose to move with his life - they have to force her away from him, make him physically unable to be anywhere near her without literally dying. And yeah, on the metaphorical level that makes me happy - she is poison for him. But on the basic textual level I can't help but say hey, what the fuck.

This is a show about choice. About how our choices make us into heroes and villains. There are universes where people made different choices, and Clark is evil there. There are other people besides Clark also choosing to be heroes. Lois chooses to trust Clark, even though he never told her his secret, and Lana chooses not to. But the writers never let Clark choose Lois not just on her own, but against Lana. And that, more than her pretending to still be a "good girl" even while married to fucking Lex Luthor, more than her personality in general, more than the narrative's obsession with her three years at least after she should've been written off the show, is why I dislike her so much.

Anyway yeah fuck Lana Lang

[anileahvictoria]

Inside out (But It's Dyslexic and ADHD) P.S This Actually Happened To Me.

"Good morning, sister Eggbert!"

"Morning, Anileah. Can you take attendance today?"

Drama *yelling into the intercom*: AAAAHH! CODE RED, CODE RED! I REPEAT, WE HAVE A CODE RED!"

Social Skills: Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down. We'll just use the chalkboard excuse. We've seen plenty of kids use that excuse before.

Self Doubt: It's not gonna work. It's a whiteboard.

Mean Streak: You're kidding me. That's it, this is all your fault, Dyslexia.

Dyslexia: My fault? I didn't put the whiteboard there!

Mean Streak: Yeah, but everyone wouldn't be freaking out if we could actually spell something!

Dyslexia: I can't help it! My brain just shuts off!

Mean Streak: Exactly! Thanks to you, all our brains shut off, so thanks for that, thank you.

Passion: It's ok, Dyslexia. No one blames you. You help us out in a lot of ways!

Mean Streak: Speak for yourself.

"Sure, no problem!" I said, trying to ignore my pounding heart as I walked up to the whiteboard and picked up the marker.

ADHD: Wait, what did we just agree to do?

Mean Streak: Social Skills just agreed to get us all killed.

Social Skills: We had to say something! What was I supposed to do? Say no?

Everyone: YES!

Social Skills: Come on, guys, that would be uncooperative. We don't even have a valid excuse.

Mean Streak: Yes we do, and it's standing right in front of you.

Passion: Don't be mean, Mean Streak. Dyslexia's strengths just lie elsewhere. For example, did you know she is VERY creative?

Mean Streak: Oh, that's wonderful, Passion! Maybe she can write everyone's names in pretty cursive! Oh wait, she can't even read cursive, let alone write it.

Social Skills: Argue about this later, guys. Drama, got any other excuses for us?

Drama: Sure, sure, how about the fact that WE DON'T KNOW EVERYONE'S NAMES!

Social Skills: What? Yes we do.

ADHD: LOL, nope.

Social Skills: What do you mean, 'LOL nope'?

Mean Streak: You never actually introduced us to anyone.

Social Skills: Oh. Yeah, you're right. Sorry guys, that one's on me.

Drama: WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!

Mean Streak: Of embarrassment.

Social Skills: Wait, there's Landon! We know his name.

Mean Streak: Yeah, but does cross-eyes over there know how to spell it?

"Hey Landon, come write your name down on the board."

ADHD: Oo, good call.

"Uh, isn't that whoever's taking attendance's job?"

ADHD: I take it back.

Sister Eggbert peeked up from her lesson plan, "Yeah, just write their names down as they come in."

ADHD: Busted.

Everyone: Will you shut up already?

Social Skills *taking deep breath*: It's fine, guys, we got thi- DYSLEXIA NO!

"Alright." I say, scribbling 'Landin' onto the board, cringing inside at how sloppy my handwriting was.

I cringed even harder when I heard Landon say, "Um, you spelled my name with an I."

"Oh, yeah, oops." I could hear the gears turning in my brain. "It's with an E, duh."

"Uh, no. L-A-N-^%$#@^*."

Drama: ABORT ABORT! He spelled it too fast! We already failed twice! Give up while we're ahead!

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah. Landon."

"No, no. How'd you spell it?"

"I just told you. L-A-N-$#%^$#. Landon. With an O."

I sighed inwardly with relief at the last sentence. Thank heavens I wouldn't have to ask him to repeat himself a third time.

"Oh, of course! I knew that." I said, trying to laugh it off.

Mean Streak: Dyslexia, not cool.

Social Skills: Yeah, I gotta admit, Dyslexia, that... that was painful.

Passion: It's ok, Dyslexia. One person at a time. Who's next?

Social Skills: Coltrin.

ADHD: YES! My main man Coltrin! We had WAY too much fun sitting next to each other.

Mean Streak: Yeah, that's why sister Eggbert separated you two.

ADHD: Ah, good times, good times.

Social Skills *ignoring ADHD and Mean Streak*: Ok, but this time we're gonna ask him how to spell it BEFORE we attempt to. Ok Dyslexia?

Dyslexia *not paying attention*: Col-trin. Coltrin. Is it with a K or a C?

"Yo Coltrin, how do you spell your name?"

Coltrin lifted his head up from where it was nestled in his arms on his desk, "Seriously, bro?"

Drama: *passes out*.

Mean Streak: Great, now he thinks we're an illiterate idiot.

Self Doubt: Are we?

Passion: No! Of course we aren't!

Social Skills: Ok, ok, I admit, things look bleak, but I can get us out of this.

Passion: Actually, I was thinking we'd let ADHD try.

Everyone except ADHD: WHAT?!

Passion: Well, he does know Coltrin best. Aaand, he's already at the controls...

"Yes, seriously. Dude, Landon literally spells his name like someone misspelling London. For all I know, you spell your name with a C!"

"Dude, my name is spelled with a C."

"C what I mean?!"

Coltrin gave his signature lopsided grin, "Heh, I C what you did there."

I grinned right back, "Dude, you C right through me."

"No one C's you the way I do."

"Duuuude."

"Duuuuuude."

Mean Streak *facepalming*: Great. Now EVERYONE in the class thinks we're idiots. Nice going ADHD.

Social Skills: Actually... ADHD managed to handle a potentially awkward situation with humor.

Mean Streak: Yeah, stupid humor.

Social Skills: I mean, if it works, it works. Well done ADHD.

Drama: Uh, I hate to ruin the moment, BUT WE HAVE TEN STUDENTS INBOUND!

Social skills: Ok team, game plan. #1 from now on, we ask how to spell their names before attempting it on our own.

Self Doubt: What if they speak too fast?

Social Skills: There's no shame in asking them to repeat themselves more slowly.

Mean Streak: Yes, there is.

Social Skills: #2 no one listens to Mean Streak.

Mean Streak: Oh, so it's ok to listen to neurodivergent over there, but not me?

Social Skills: #3 we are going to ignore Mean Streak. And finally, to avoid this situation in the future, we will wait until at least three other students are in class before entering the premises.

Self Doubt: But what if we get here early? We always get here early.

ADHD: Easy, we sleep in.

Social Skills: And risk being late? No way. We'll just wait outside the class or hide in the bathroom or something.

Mean Streak: 'Cause that's not weird.

Social Skills: Whatever, we'll figure something out. Until then, we've got Marin coming in on the right. Dyslexia, does two R's look right?

Dyslexia: Hmm, no, that doesn't look right. I think It's just one.

"Um, it's just one R, Anileah." Marin said sweetly.

"Was just about to fix that."

Social skills: Ee! A cool kid knows our name!

Mean Streak: Of course she does. Unlike some people, she actually pays attention when someone introduces themselves.

ADHD: Don't look at me! How am I supposed to pay attention when Passion is using up all the memory space to remember everyones favorite color?!

Passion: Landon just changed his to blue last week.

ADHD: Whoa. Seriously, how'd you know?

Social Skills: Right. Well, good call, Dyslexia. Passion, the two boys behind her-

Passion: One of them's Noah, the other's Jacob... I think.

ADHD: Naw, Jacob's the tall one who sat down like five minutes ago.

Drama: Five minutes ago?! WELL, WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?!

ADHD: I thought you already got him.

Social skills *going through the list*: No, I don't see any Jacob. But there's a Joey. We don't have a Joey in our class... Dyslexia?

Dyslexia: Sorry! I didn't know if Jacob was spelled with a K or a C, so I just put Joey. That's short for Jacob, right?

Social Skills *dragging a hand over her face*: No, Joey is short for Joseph, not Jacob.

Dyslexia: W-what?

Social Skills: Try both. *speaking slowly* J-A-C-K-O-B. See if that looks right.

Several agonizing minutes later, after attendance has been successfully completed (more or less).

ADHD: There's something off about Jacob.

Social Skills: Really? He seems fine to me.

ADHD: No, not the boy, dingbat, the name.

Dyslexia: There- there is?

ADHD: Yeah, your J is backward.

Dyslexia: No. Gosh, please no!

ADHD: Mmhm, and your K.

Dyslexia *groaning and burying her face in her hands*: Oh no...

ADHD: J.K! Ha! Get it? Cause I said, your J and K were backward! J.K!

Everyone: SHUT UP!

The End

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 8

(Y/n)'s POV

I know someone at camp resents Percy and me because one night, I come into the cabin alone and find a mortal newspaper dropped inside the doorway, a copy of the New York Daily News, opened to the Metro page. The article takes me almost an hour to read, because the angrier I get, the more the words float around on the page.

GIRL, BOY, AND MOTHER STILL MISSING AFTER FREAK CAR ACCIDENT

By Eileen Smythe

Sally Jackson, son Percy, and daughter (Y/n) are still missing one week after their mysterious disappearance. The family's badly burned '78 Camaro was discovered last Saturday on a north Long Island road with the roof ripped off and the front axle broken. The car had flipped and skidded for several hundred feet before exploding.

Mother, daughter, and son had gone for a weekend vacation to Montauk, but left hastily, under mysterious circumstances. Small traces of blood were found in the car and near the scene of the wreck, but there were no other signs of the missing Jacksons. Residents in the rural area reported seeing nothing unusual around the time of the accident.

Ms. Jackson's husband, Gabe Ugliano, claims that his stepson, Percy Jackson, is a troubled child who has been kicked out of numerous boarding schools and has expressed violent tendencies in the past.

Police would not say whether son Percy is a suspect in his sister's and his mother's disappearance, but they have not ruled out foul play. Below are recent pictures of Sally Jackson, (Y/n), Percy. Police urge anyone with information to call the following toll-free Crimestoppers hotline.

The phone number is circled in black marker.

I wad up the paper and throw it away, flopping down on my bunk on the far edge of the cabin under the window facing the sea.

I remain silent as Percy walks into the cabin, flopping down onto his bunk as well.

That night, I have the worst dream yet.

I was running along the beach in a storm. This time, there was a city behind me. Not New York. The sprawl was different: buildings spread farther apart, palm trees and low hills in the distance.

About a hundred yards down the surf, two men were fighting. They looked like TV wrestlers, muscular, with beards and long hair. Both wore flowing Greek tunics, one trimmed in blue, the other in green. They grappled with each other, wrestled, kicked, and head-butted, and every time they connected, lightning flashed, the sky grew darker, and the wind rose.

I had to stop them. I didn't know why. But the harder I ran, the more the wind blew me back until I was running in place, my heels digging uselessly in the sand.

Over the roar of the storm, I could hear the blue-robed one yelling at the green-robed one, Give it back! Give it back! Like a kindergartner fighting over a toy.

The waves got bigger, crashing into the beach, spraying me with salt.

I yelled, Stop it! Stop fighting!

The ground shook. Laughter came from somewhere under the earth, and a voice so deep and evil it turned my blood to ice.

Come down, little hero, the voice crooned. Come down!

The sand split beneath me, opening up a crevice straight down to the center of the earth. My feet slipped, and darkness swallowed me.

I wake up, sure I'm falling.

I am still in bed in Cabin Three. My body tells me it's morning, but it's dark outside, and thunder rolls over the hills.

A storm is brewing.

I hadn't dreamed that . . .

I hear a clopping sound at the door, a hoof knocking on the threshold.

"Come in?" Percy asks, sounding uncertain.

Grover trots inside, looking worried. "Mr. D wants to see the two of you."

"Why?" I ask, peeking through the curtain separating mine and Percy's side of the cabin.

'He wants to kill . . . I mean, I'd better let him tell you."

Nervously, Percy and I get dressed and follow, sure we were in huge trouble.

For days, Percy and I'd been half expecting a summons to the Big House. Now that we were declared children of Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods who weren't supposed to have kids, I figure it's just a crime for us to be alive. The other gods had probably been debating on the best way to punish us for existing, and now Mr. D is ready to deliver their verdict.

Over Long Island Sound, the sky looks like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain is coming in our direction. I ask Grover if we'd need an umbrella.

"No," Grover says. "It never rains here unless we want it to."

Percy points at the storm, 'What the heck is that, then?"

Grover glances uneasily at the sky. "It'll pass around us. Bad weather always does."

I realize that he's right. In the week I'd been here, it had never even been overcast. The few rain clouds I'd seen had skirted right around the edges of the valley.

But this storm . . .

This one's huge.

At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo's cabin are playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysius's twins - Castor and Pollux - are walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everyone is going about their normal business, but they look tense; they keep their eyes on the storm.

Grover, Percy, and I walk up the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sits at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet Coke, just as he had on my first day. Chiron sits across the table in his fake wheelchair. They are playing against invisible opponents - two sets of cards hovering in the air.

"Well, well," Mr. D says without looking up. "Our little celebrities."

I wait.

"Come closer," Mr. D says. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortals, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father."

A net of lightning flashes across the clouds; thunder shakes the windows of the house.

"Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus grumbles.

Chiron faints interest in his pinochle cards and Grover cowers by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth.

"If I had my way," Dionysus says, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm."

"Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron puts in.

"Nonsense," Dionysus says. "Boy wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself. I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father."

"Mr. D - " Chiron warns.

"Oh, all right," Dionysus relents. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Dionysus rises, and the invisible players' cards drop onto the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the boy is still here when I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you two must do."

Dionysus picks up a playing card, twists it, and it becomes a plastic rectangle. A security pass. He snaps his fingers. The air seems to fold and bend around him. He becomes a hologram, a wind, then he is gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind.

Chiron smiles at me and Percy, but he looks tired and strained. "Sit, Percy,(Y/n), please. And Grover."

We do.

Chiron lays his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use.

"Tell me, (Y/n)," he says. "What did you make of the hellhound?"

Just hearing the name makes me shudder.

Chiron probably wants me to say, Heck, it was nothing. I eat hellhounds for breakfast. But I don't feel like lying.

"It scared me," I admit. "If you hadn't shot it, I'd be dead."

"You two will meet worse. Far worse, before you're done."

"Done?" Percy asks. "With what?"

"You're quest, of course," Chiron says. "Will you accept it?"

I glance at Grover, who is crossing his fingers.

"Sir," I say, "you haven't told us what it is yet."

Chiron grimaces. "Well, that's the hard part, the details."

Thunder rumbles across the valley. The storm clouds had now reached the edge of the beach. As far as I can see, the sky and the sea were boiling together.

"Poseidon and Zeus," I guess. "They're fighting over something valuable . . . something that was stolen, aren't they?"

Chiron and Grover exchange looks.

Chiron shoots forward in his wheelchair. "How did you know that?"

"The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she'd overheard something about a theft. And...I've also been having these dreams."

"I knew it," Grover says, his eyes bright.

"Hush, satyr," Chiron orders.

"But it is his quest!" Grover's eyes sparkle with excitement. "It must be!"

"Only the Oracle can determine," Chiron strokes his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, (Y/n), you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt."

Percy laughs, looking nervous, "A what?"

"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warns. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives."

"Oh."

"Zeus's master bolt," Chiron says, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers."

"And it's missing?" I guess.

"Stolen," Chiron corrects.

"By whom?" I ask though I guessed what he was going to say.

"By you two," Chiron says and Percy's jaw drops.

"At least"—Chiron holds up a hand—"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon argued. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best,' 'Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' et cetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."

"But I didn't - We didn't -" Percy goes to say.

"Patience and listen, child," Chiron says. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you two as his children. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief.

"But we've never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy!"

Chiron and Grover glance nervously at the sky. The clouds don't seem to be parting around us, as Grover had promised. They are rolling straight over the valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid.

"Er, Percy . . . ?" Grover says. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky."

"Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggests. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam...." He looked at Percy.

"The Golden Net?" I guess again. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods trapped Zeus in it and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler?"

"Correct," Chiron says. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you two have come along—the proverbial last straw."

"But we're just kids!" Percy protests.

"Percy," Grover cuts in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, and that he's father, not one, but two mortal heroes who might be used as a weapon against you . . . Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?"

"But I - we didn't do anything, Poseidon - our dad - he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?" Percy asks, and I remain silent in thought.

Chiron sighs. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a fullfledged war would look like, Percy? (Y/n)?"

"Bad?" Percy guesses.

"I'd guess that it would be like nature at war with itself," I say and Chiron nods.

"Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight," Chiron adds to (Y/n)'s statement.

"Bad," Percy repeats.

"And you, Percy and (Y/n) Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."

And then, it starts to rain. Volleyball players stop their game and start in stunned silence at the sky.

We had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of us.

"So we have to find that bolt," I say. "And return it to Zeus."

"What better peace offering," Chiron says, "than to have the son and daughter of Poseidon return Zeus's property.

"If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?" Percy asks.

"I believe I know." Chiron's expression is grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago...well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle."

"Why can't you tell us where the bolt is beforehand?" Percy asks.

"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge."

I swallow thickly. "Good reason."

"You agree then?" Chiron asks.

I exchange a glance with Percy, then Grover, who nods encouragingly.

Easy for him, I think. We're the ones Zeus wants to kill.

"All right," Percy says. "It's better than being turned into a dolphin."

"Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron says. "Go upstairs, Percy and (Y/n) Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."

. . .

"Well?" Chiron asks us.

We slump into our chairs at the pinochle table. "She said we would retrieve what was stolen.

Grover sits forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!

"What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron presses. "This is important."

My ears are still tingling from the reptilian voice. "She said we would go west and face a god who had turned. We would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned."

"I knew it," Grover says.

Chiron doesn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"

"No," Percy says. "That's about it."

He studies Percy's face, then meets my green gaze. "Very well. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."

I get the feeling he knows we're holding something back, and he's trying to make us feel better.

"Okay," Percy says, looking anxious to change topics. "So where do we go? Who's this god in the west?"

"Ah, think, Percy," Chiron says."if Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain."

"Someone else who wants to take over?" I guess.

"Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken."

"Hades," I say, raising an eyebrow.

Chiron nods. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."

A scrap of aluminum dribbles out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh - what?"

"A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminds him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."

"Yes, but - but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protests. "Especially if he has found out Percy and (Y/n) are children of Poseidon . . ."

"A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continues. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy and (Y/n) to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill these young half-bloods before he can take on the quest."

"Great," I mutter. "That's two major gods who want to kill us."

"But a quest to . . ." Grover swallows. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in someplace like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year."

"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy and (Y/n) must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."

A strange fire burns in my stomach. The weirdest thing is, it isn't fear. It's anticipation. The desire for revenger. Hades had tried to kill me two times so far with the Minotaur, and the hellhound. It is his fault my mother had disappeared in a flash of light. Now he is trying to frame me, my dad, and my brother for a theft we hadn't committed.

Grover is trembling now; he'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips.

The poor guy had to complete a quest with me and Percy so he could get his searcher's license, whatever that is, but how can I ask him to do this quest, especially when the Oracle said we were destined to fail?" This is a suicide mission.

"Look, if we know it's Hades," Percy tells Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus and Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads."

"Suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron says. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades—and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?"

"You're saying I'm being used," Percy says.

"I'm saying it's no accident Poseidon had claimed you and (Y/n) now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs the two of you."

My dad needs us.

Emotions roll around inside me like bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. I don't know whether to feel resentful or grateful or happy or angry. Poseidon had ignored me for twelve years. Now suddenly he needed me.

3rd Person POV

Percy looks at Chiron. "You've known I was Poseidon's son all along, haven't you?"

"I had my suspicions. As I said . . . I've spoken to the Oracle, too."

(Y/n) gets the feeling that there is a lot he wasn't telling them about the prophecy, but she decides that she couldn't worry about that at the moment. After all, she and Percy were hiding back information too."

"So let me get this straight," Percy says. "We're supposed to go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead."

"Check," Chiron says.

"Find the most powerful weapon in the universe."

"Check."

"And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days."

"That's about right."

(Y/n) looks over at Grover, who gulps down the ace of hearts.

"But I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asks weakly.

"You don't have to go," Percy tells him. "I can't ask that of you."

"Oh . . ." He shifts his hooves. "No . . . it's just that satyrs and underground places . . . well . . ." He takes a deep breath, then stands, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his t-shirts. "You saved my life, (Y/n), Percy. If . . . if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let the two of you down."

Percy feels so relieved that he wanted to cry, though he didn't think that would be very heroic. Grover is the only friend she'd ever had for longer than a few months. Percy isn't sure what a satyr can do against the forces of the dead but he feels better knowing he'd be with them.

"All the way, G-man," Percy turns to Chiron. "The Oracle just said to go west."

"The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America."

"Where?"

Chiron looks surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles."

Percy's POV

"Oh," I said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane -"

"No!" Grover shrieks. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?"

I shake my head, feeling embarrassed. My mom had never taken me and (Y/n) anywhere by plane. She'd always said we didn't have the money. Besides, her parents had died in a plane crash.

"Percy, think," Chiron says. "You are the son of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come down again alive."

Overhead, lightning crackles and thunder booms.

"Okay," (Y/n) says, not looking up at the storm. "So, we'll travel overland."

"That's right," Chiron says. "Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other has already volunteered if you will accept her help."

(Y/n)'s POV

"Gee," I say, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a suicide quest like this?"

The air shimmers behind Chiron.

Annabeth Chase becomes visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket.

"I've been waiting a long time for a quest, Seaweed Brain," she says. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up."

"If you do say so yourself," I say. "I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?"

Her cheeks flush. "Do you want my help or not?"

The truth is, I do. I need all the help I can get.

"A quartet," I say. "That'll work."

"Excellent," Chiron says. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own."

Lightning flashes. Rain pours down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather.

"No time to waste," Chiron says. "I think you should all get packing."

Word Count: 4018 words

[magnumdays]

Magnum PI 3.11 - The Lies We Tell review

So why does my babies playing tennis and arguing over who won just make me so happy! Like legit the first 2 minutes of this episode might be my favorite part of it. Higgy in her little dress and Magnum looking fine and them just being adorable and bantering! Just warms the heart after what feels like forever without any Miggy!

Also what is this thing Juliet does with her hand and why is it turning me on more than my last boyfriend?

We have the case of the week: Lady whose boyfriend she witnessed being killed but she failed to call the police because she’s married.

Magnum and Higgins are both a little shook by this. Don’t lie, Thomas, your first thought was “what the heck?” too.

But Magnum gets on the “save the woman in distress” bandwagon and we’re off to the races. Juliet is a little less happy about it and frankly, I gotta admit I agree with Higgy here.

“The right thing to do would have been not planning to cheat on her husband.”

I mean I see Magnum's point to and I feel kinda bad for the lady - she didn't sign up to witness a murder - but I am also a little confused by her actions.

Why not just buy a burner phone - the very same night she witnessed the murder - and call it in? Or just block her number and call the cops? Or a payphone?(do those still exist?) Why go to a PI? Two days later?

Whatever. I guess it's because else we'd have no morally ambiguous case for Magnum and Higgy to have tense different feelings about. The question is, did we need that this week?

Because of what we're getting with the Rick/ Icepick side plot I feel like maybe this week's case could have been a little bit lighter. Miggy could have spent the episode arguing about the tennis match or something much more trivial. Their case could have been one slightly more uplifting or just basic: maybe a missing designer handbag or stolen tablet or key card.

So on to the (very sad) side plot which almost is the main one this week. Rick is trying to see Icepick at the prison and finds out he’s sick(er) and in the hospital. Even though Icepick had caused not just Rick but the whole gang quite some trouble and isn’t exactly the best of guys, the whole plotline was really sad and heartbreaking.

(TC being there for Rick gives me life!)

I think we can all identify with having someone we love be sick and how hard that is to come to terms with. Especially when it’s someone we had mixed feelings for and wasn’t always fantastic or stand up but still were there for us and was important.

(At least I can, which is maybe why I had lots of not super good feels for this whole episode)

IDK. Icepick’s death and Rick’s reaction to the whole thing was really amazing. In a sad and sob-worthy way. TC being there and the whole gang toasting him at the end. That's the kind of wholesome content I'm here for. I'm still sad though.

And I think it has as much to do with the case this week as Icepick's death.

Because this case was really depressing: a woman’s lover got killed and she, not wanting to lose everything, didn’t call the police. Only as it turns out her dead lover was an evil blackmailer. And further making it worse one of his earlier blackmail victim's husband sent goons that accidentally killed him and he then turned around and is re-blackmailing all the women?

Come on!

I'm losing faith in humanity here!

This is Magnum PI. Where are the puppies and rainbows and happy endings?

I really didn't like anyone. Honestly, I didn't care at all if Lena and her husband figured things out or if he just divorced her at the end. Because what did it all matter after all the crazy that just went down?

I mean we did get Magnum telling Lena:

"Maybe you don't have to move on. Maybe you just have to move forward."

Which is what Higgy really has needed to hear all episode. So that's nice. I guess.

(But couldn't they have found a better way to have Juliet deal with her angsty Richard moving on feels? This episode wasn't what I wanted when I asked the universe for that!)

There is a soft Miggy moment I quite enjoyed at the end.

I mean I LOVE the whole "Richard would want you to be happy" moment. Because it's so great to have them just talk and be there for each other and her actually sharing with him why she's been so upset.

BUT this too also so freaking sad because she's all "I think I already have fallen (for Ethan)" and Magnum face is all "I'm happy for her, I'm happy for her, I'm happy for her (but why is my heart breaking at the same time?)"

So yeah. I guess this week's review is... this episode mostly made me sad.

Sure, it had its fun moments, the tennis bit was lovely, and the Icepick bit heart-wrenching in the best possible way.

Kind of a good episode but not one I will want to go back and really re-watch (even if I did for this review). Because as much as some seriousness is needed, this was just a little too much of it for me, personally. I needed something lighter to go with Icepick's death. Or something lighter to go with the dead-lover-blackmailer plot. The two were just too much together.

That's it.

(Point for the episode title though, it really freaking works because everyone's just lying both actual lying and feeling-lying to themselves.)

Next week's promo looks promising. Magnum and Higgins kick butt like they do, working a case of the week! Old trouble coming back to haunt TC? Also, there is going to be a doggo? I'm here for that!

[whattheresidentdidtoday]

2/15/22 - It's Been A Week, Pt 1

I honestly don't even know where to begin. It's only been five days since the last post and it seems like a week's worth of stuff has happened, so I'm gonna split this into at least a couple posts. Today isn't even a work day, I'm just posting because I finally have the time and mind space to write.

I don't even remember Friday. Saturday AM shift wasn't that fun since JP was there, but I was still buzzing and excited because the dance was later that day.

Breakfast on 2/12 was kinda a mess. Yolanda has this habit of collecting a stack of order tickets, instead of the three at a time that I was trained to do, before she starts on drinks or even putting them in to the chef. May seem efficient, but it's not. Because as soon as you take a person's order, the clock is ticking. They'll think "oh, my order's been taken, I should expect food soon", but if you go around taking everyone else's orders before putting theirs in, it's gonna take longer to get to them, especially since the cooks don't always do the tickets in the order we take them. So then the resident (or customer, this applies to normal restaurants too) will get upset because they've been waiting a long time for something that should be simple. Also, if you put in a bunch of tickets, it's going to overwhelm the chef.

Anyways, I had had her start taking orders while JP and I finished with the deliveries, and when I came in the kitchen Greg was just standing there and said he'd been waiting for 20 minutes and she still hadn't brought any tickets in. So I went out and saw she's taking orders still, so I can't just go up and tell her to start working on them so I take a couple orders so Greg can at least start working on something. I get 2 or 3, and go to start their drinks. Yolanda finally comes back and has this long list of drinks to do because of all the tickets she has. I get my drinks out, tickets in, then offer to help her finish her drinks. Meanwhile, Greg's got plates lining up in the window, we're not getting them out because we're still trying to get their drinks out before the plates, so he ends up bringing them out himself....y'know, doing something that's not his job.

I think I might've asked JP to help take some orders, or take plates out or something, because he was out in the dining room doing something and when we were heading out with the lunch cart I asked if he was ready to help us with it, and he got this deer in the headlights look and asked "out there?" motioning to the dining room. Like no you absolute clown, the dining room isn't open yet, the carts are clearly ready to go, I mean help with the cart!!

Anyway, after I clocked out at 2ish, I started changing into my dress and getting ready for the dance. Helped Rebekah move the tables aside so there'd be a dance floor. Marti and Shirley came and were sitting outside the dining room and I went out to show them my dress and because they'd been telling me they had something they wanted to do for me. I thought it was going to be a pep talk or something like that, but nope, they had gotten me a corsage bracelet from a high end florist here in town. So freaking sweet and generous of them. They said I was their girl, so that's why they did it for me.

My dance partner, N, texted that he'd be getting there about 3-315, and that the other two people that had said they were interested (his cousin K and his wife M) wouldn't make it because they hadn't gotten a babysitter and K had been called into work. A tad disappointing, but it was ok. Some residents had showed up by now, but not too many. Then N texted that he'd arrived, so I hurried downstairs to escort him up. We get back upstairs and there's a lot more residents in there now, more than I was expecting and some I didn't think would show up at all.

Suddenly, I'm nervous. I had been excited, but seeing them all and realizing they'd be watching and we'd essentially be performing got to me. N must've seen I was internally freaking out because he said "come here" and hugged me with a tight squeeze and had me follow his breathing. It helped some, after it I was like ok let's do this, no more hiding in the drink station!

And then we danced! And the residents loved it! They cheered when he spun me, when he dipped me, when we started a Lindy. Less than halfway through K showed up, so then he and I danced some. N danced with Marti and Margaret and it was So. Freaking. Adorable. I couldn't handle it. Marti looked so happy during it too...dare I say smitten a little. And he seemed to enjoy it...he was smiling so hard the dimples came out so he must've! Towards the end N and K had the idea to start a dance with me and K, then N would cut in, then K, and trade me back and forth until they ended up together. I said yes, I love it, let's do it. So we did, and the residents cheered for the trading, and then thought the ending of K dipping N was hilarious. It started winding down after that.

Oh, before when we were standing in the drinks station, JP came out and said "oh it's you, I didn't even recognize you in that dress. You look beautiful, sweetie!" and touched my shoulder, effectively making me want the shed my skin. I said "thaaanks!!" in that higher pitched voice that I do when I'm replying in the way you should, but it's not necessarily sincere. Ick.

Sunday he mentioned it again, and asked if N was my bf. I laughed and said no. He said he thinks N likes me because when he'd mentioned my dress N looked "defensive"....and all I thought was "dude, maybe he looked defensive because you're freaking creepy and he could tell by my tone/body language that I was uncomfortable with you saying/doing that." Ugh, double ick.

Anyway, that's about all for Saturday. Sunday was....worth another post.

[zombiiesque]

Seasonal Series: FALL For Nocturne Alchemy

Originally published 10/3/2019

So I've been meaning to work on this series for a while, but I keep getting distracted! I'm terrible, I know. I've had the idea to write up a series of four posts, one for each season, of scent suggestions from Nocturne Alchemy - both LC (Limited Collection) and PC (Permanent Collection). I've asked my fellow House of Nocturne Alchemy Tent members for their suggestions, too. If you are not already in the Tent on Facebook, please join us - we'd love to have you! It's a wonderful group. So, fall. It's October, and here in Florida the temperature hasn't really given us any relief, and I'm dying to wear my heavier fall scents. I am really glad not to have snow here yet, but I really would like to have some cooler days! Bring on that crisp fall air, I am ready.

Let's start with LC scents, shall we? Some of my favorites: Phantasm Kiss. Can't talk about fall without talking about this, the biggest gun of all, for me. The vanilla/smoke/wood balance is absolute perfection, and it's cozy and dark and right in my wheelhouse. To boot, it literally makes everything I have ever layered it with smell just so much more amazing. I don't think I've ever tried it with something I didn't love 1000%. This is VHTF, (very hard to find) though - if you come across one in the secondary market, you'd better act fast. Jack's Halloween Oudh is another iconic fall scent - everyone seems to love this, and it truly is fall in a bottle. It took a long time for me to be able to wear it, because for some reason I amped the dickens out of the spices, but they finally mellowed with age enough for this to truly be an experience, not just a perfume. It's a FALL fall scent, in capital letters. Just a tad on the foodie side, but balanced enough with the other notes that I wouldn't call it a gourmand. I'm not going to pick a particular pumpkin from the 31 Pumpkin Library, but I will say this: If you haven't been following along with this series, you are missing out. This is the last year for these. I was not sold on the idea of pumpkin as perfume, because I was never much of a foodie gal - I liked it well enough for room scents, and will eat the heck outta some pie, or muffins - but I just didn't really ever try any that appealed to me. Now I've accumulated a good 10 of them, and love them all. There's something for every taste, even the folks who don't like pumpkin or foodie scents. Can't wear spices? There's even several without spice in the series, too. Feeling Witchy, with a capital W? Sisters of the Moon was created by Bastet in honor of Stevie Nicks, and it's perfection. Herbal, dark, haunting, mysterious - it's everything you want in a witchy perfume. Always a favorite of mine this time of year. My absolute favorite Halloween subcollection though, is the Mummy series. So many favorites in this - Mummy Crypt, Mummy Tomb Incense, Embalmed Mummy, Mummy Amber, and currently available in the Resurgence, The Mummy Returns. Even better, these all do well layered with each other - I highly recommend experimenting with this! My absolute favorite is Mummy Crypt, but truly, I love them all. I would be remiss if I didn't mention V, also available in the Resurgence. I have to say that one really crept up on me - I really liked it, but I do have a lot of incense, and I wasn't sure it was totally unique to my collection. I wore this recently and it was like I was hit by a lightning bolt - I GOT THE FANFARE. Holy. Freaking. Bats! Don't skip out on this if incense is your jam, because this is a beauty. I am not sure whether it was hormones - mine have been in flux for quite a while - or the aforementioned warmer weather, but although I did like it, I wasn't obsessed with it. I surely am now, and it's going to get a lot of wear over the next few months. Thoth did a spectacular job with it, he truly did. Oh, I don't want to forget to mention the Patchouli Bats. If you love patch the way I do, there are some beauties here, and my two favorites right now are Scarlet Bat - available in the Resurgence section of the Limiteds, and the new Vampire Bourbon Patchouli Bat. I'm not going to say a lot on that, as I've got a review coming up at the end of the week with a more in depth look at Bourbon Bat, but it is divine, and already a fan favorite. Another Patchouli Bat I love that came out with the last Holiday LC is Vampire Cardamom Bat - I added this on as a last minute choice, and wasn't really sure about it, but it's become a quick favorite, and I wore it year round this year, but I think it's definitely more appropriate in the cooler months. Scarlet Bat is sugared patchouli red musk, and it. Is. Sexy. Seriously stunning. Okay, lest I go on too long here, I'm going to wrap this up by mentioning some of the LC favorites in the Tent. Vampire Bourbon Patchouli Bat is a fast fan favorite, and everyone is raving about it. Also

mentioned were Halloween Evening, Skeletonic, Blood Queen, Sandman, and Eternal Ankh Spice. Based on the review thread in the Tent, if you like lavender and sleep scents, Halloween Dreams is very popular. Okay, there are a ton of other really wonderful LC choices for fall, but I obviously could go on and on - let's head to the Permanent Collection!

Nocturne Alchemy has a large and wonderful PC, so if you have not explored this yet, you are truly missing out. Treasures untold, as Ariel says in The Little Mermaid. Right off the bat, I'm going to mention the brand new Halloween 2020. It was available in a special black frosted bottle in the LC section, but it's also part of the All Hallows' Eve subcollection, along with previous Halloweens, including my beloved Bastet Halloween 2016. This is a sandalwood lover's dream. I received a sample with my order, so I'll be talking about it when I post my reviews, but I LOVE it already. This is a great fall section, chock full of perfect cooler weather scents. BOO! is a fan favorite - I keep meaning to get a sample of it, because I want to give it a try and see if I can wear the spices. I do, however, have a sample of Day of the Dead, and it is the perfect Horchata. Sugary rice milk, creamy vanilla, and a touch of musk - it's so wearable, even if you're not into foodie scents. It's a snuggly white scent. I used to have a sample of Black Crow, but I gave it away many moons ago - but it's something I need to upgrade to a full bottle of, I loved it. I do however have a big bottle of Black Raven and I adore that one! The patchouli is prominent, but it's blended well with the other resins, and it's a rich and dark scent. If you love those kinds of scents, don't skip out on this one. I could really go on and on in this section, but I'll stop, and just encourage you to explore this one for yourself, especially for fall. Another section you won't want to miss is the Goblins. This one contains another big fan favorite, Spooktacular. I have the original version, without the addition of Bastet's Ice Cream Accord, but I need to pick up the new one, as well. This is simple - gooey, creamy, marshmallow goodness. If you are looking for a marshmallow scent, Spooktacular is the one you want. And it layers with absolutely everything! Demonseed Cake and Pina Ghoulata are also popular. The Immortals has another favorite - Emerson. This is a beauty for fall, a bright, rich golden resin scent. Mina is another popular one, jasmine with vanilla, musk, and pepper. I'm going to mention Ozymandias here, although I wear this year round, if I had to put it firmly into a season, I would call it a fall scent. I highly encourage you to age this one if you find it faint at first, that is common with this scent. It's a cozy, sweet resinous scent with just a light kick of pepper, and just perfect for snuggling into a jean jacket and thick sweater. It's in the Pharaohs & Queens section. There are a literal ton in the Studio Limited sections that would suit, so I'm going to briefly mention a few favorites: Ember Vanilla. Smoked out, slightly chewy vanilla, and layers well with many other perfumes. I haven't tried Bourbon Vanille solo yet, but having had it in blends, I am yearning for a bottle, and I think it, too, would be a great fall scent. There are many of the Ombres that are heavier and absolutely perfect for the fall, not the least of which are Oud Ombre and Fig Noir Ombre, a darkly sexy, date night fig and resins perfume. The newly released Musk Haven musks are great as well - I'm thinking particularly Vanilla Musk and Amber Musk, with the golden, stunning amber musk of Saphir. Ember is a rich, woody combination of frankincense and myrrh that I crave all year, but in particular during the cooler months. Kashmir - a dark, sexy red musk, and Bloodstone - a deep, spicy dragon's blood - are heavier and well suited for fall. Really, there are a plethora of choices in the Studio Limited, so I'll leave you to browse at your leisure, and just mention a few more that come to mind. Etherias is another section worth exploring, and I have several of these on my wishlist, including Etherian Ambre, which I think sounds perfect right about now. But one I really crave once the temperatures drop is Polichenelle - a gooey marshmallow with a puff of smoke and spicy clove. This to me is the perfect scent if you like clove, but it can amp up on your skin. I have that problem

myself, but not here - the marshmallow really reigns it in and it is beautifully balanced. It dries down to a lightly spiced marshmallow musk on me. The Royal Ambers have so many favorites, but I really want to mention Sky Amber, Thoth Amber, Sekhmet Amber, and especially Horus Amber. The cardamom in this is so smooth and rich, this is a gorgeous golden scent that is just wonderfully warm. Let me put the brakes on, y'all. There are a lot of great choices for fall in the PC, and some recommendations from my friends in the Tent include Burning Jack, Vanilla Pumpkin Pie, Halloween 2019, and Halloween 2017 (I too have this one and love it).

OH, another one - I would really feel bad if I didn't mention this. The Desecrated Tomb is a great little section, and the three I have all layer well with each other - Black Frankincense, Black Myrrh, and Black Vanilla Embalming Spice. But that last one is a perfect fall vanilla, it's dark and smoothly warm with the spices, and totally unique. And it's another fan favorite!

And that's it! Fall is my absolute favorite season, so I get a little verbose with the recommendations. There are so many wonderful possibilities, and not just in the Limited Collection. What are your favorite fall scents? Do you have and love any of these? Happy October, y'all.

[mercurys-niece]

At first I couldn't see my boyfriend because we had conflicting work schedules for a week. No big deal, although it was the longest we'd gone without seeing each other since we started dating, but it was bound to happen eventually, so no big deal. Then, right before the big date we'd been planning for weeks, I get sick. So now our date is cancelled and I haven't seen him for two weeks. That sucks, but there's been worse, I'll get through it. And then I just don't get better. So I go to the hospital, and find out I have mono, and they keep me for three days, plus recovery. That makes it three weeks. Finally, we can see each other again though, so he comes over, we hang out, and then we fuck bc we haven't seen each other in weeks! So of course we have not one but TWO condom malfunctions, he leaves early because he's freaked, and I'm just left there. Alone. The next day, I give him space, I go out, get plan b, I don't make a big deal about it even though it's my first time having to do that and I was scared. The day after that, I ask if he wants to hang out, and I get ignored for hours at a time and he just tells me he'll come over "later" about three times until 11pm when he finally texts me "sorry I didn't come over" after I'd already wasted an entire day and was just generally feeling abandoned. He tells me that it was because he was tired, but I know he played video games from 3pm-1am because he streamed it. I try to let it go. I wake up the next morning, we make plans to watch a movie that night, and I'm happy because I'll at least get to see him and talk out how I've been feeling in person. No such luck. My roommates tell me that they were exposed to COVID, so he can't come over. I have a breakdown I don't tell anyone about. Fast forward to today, about a week later, and my roommates have both tested negative. You would THINK he'd be excited to finally be able to see me, but all I get is "oh okay that's good" and he just. Kept playing video games. The worst part is that it didn't used to be like this. For the months before we started dating and we were just really good friends, he never ignored me and he played video games a lot, but never to the point where it was impacting his life like it is now, and I feel like I'm competing with fucking Fortnite for his attention, which is 100% not what I signed up for. I'm just so frustrated. I've done so much for him, and put so much time, energy, and money into this already, I just want to feel appreciated. But the only time I have his undivided attention is when he's either thinking about fucking me or actively fucking me. And I want more than that. I want someone who thinks about me as often as I do them, but I feel like I'm an after thought to him. And I want to say all of this to him in person, but the universe just isn't letting that happen and he's not helping.

[1dreality]

I remember when SOTT first came out you shared your thoughts on its opening week, but said we'd have to wait to see if it would grow over time and achieve longevity. Now three and a half months since SOTT and two since the album came out, I'm curious what your take is on how Harry's solo launch has played out? What do you think has worked best for him, and why do you think his sales haven't really met expectations? (If you think that? Feel free to disagree!)

Hi anon!

Damn you are putting me on the spot like that.

Well to be quite honest I did not expect this at all….With the way they were hyping up his solo launch I was expecting like a boom effect where he blows all the other 3 out of the water. I mean we all witnessed the roll out….

His album sales are good but I think when you compare the Return Over Investment  maybe it’s a bit meh……

It looks like SOTT did not make that huge impact they were probably expecting. I guess the general population weren’t having it with a ballad. I mean it was like a quick kind of wow whereas This Town is still freaking playing or PillowTalk’s effect last year where it played all year…..

Sure they can say that it doesn’t matter and it was a brave move on his part to release this type of song because it’s so different (I don’t think it is) from what is out here.

As for his album the first week sales were great. He got all the headlines the applause but then the following his album sales dropped even more in terms of % than Zayn.

I guess his team thought that Harry was already famous enough or big enough in the general population to have people interested in him and that wasn’t the case. 

They sort of marketed him as an already established artist when in reality that wasn’t the case. Also the album is not everyone’s cup of tea. I mean he made rock music but most tracks resemble other songs. So for like a rock fan I think they would be like why would I listen to Harry’s songs when I could listen to the original. 

Also the hype man…..When you have too much hype it builds up certain expectations and sometimes it has the opposite effect. Like why are you trying so hard to make me like this…..

However, now with him back in the spotlight because of Dunkirk and the great reviews it got, maybe the audience will think to give him a chance.

So I am still waiting to see how things will look up….Maybe the sales will pick up. Although choosing Two Ghosts as a 2nd single in my opinion is not the best idea when there were way better tracks on HS1.

For me at the moment at least in terms of music he is not miles ahead of ot4 and that is even though he has a lot of backing. 

Things might change in the future we just have to wait and see.

[justagayguysworld-blog]

It was a job and it paid well, very well. The work was easy enough, but the real money was in the tips. That's why I jumped at the chance to sign up for a second summer of sun and fun off the California coast. Far as I know, there were no gay cruises at the time, so I guess that made Tim's little operation ahead of its time with his mostly male clientele. The Wet Dream was a nice boat with three staterooms, a big salon, full kitchen, two baths and a big ass Jacuzzi. I certainly could have lived comfortably on it, which is pretty much what Drake and I did that first summer.

Our longest "excursions" were 24 hours up and down the coast, and many were just day or night trips. Basically, I was a waiter in a swim suit whose only job was to keep Tim's "A" list guests happy. Did a lot of them hit on me? Of course; I wouldn't have been doing my job if they hadn't. If we had a full passenger list of thirty, I could easily make five-hundred bucks in a day. And I'd never spent a single night in one of those staterooms with anyone. That's why when Tim called me to say Drake wasn't coming back, I thought he had to be the dumbest fucker on the planet. Drake was good looking enough, but obviously not real bright.

"Hey, Tim. I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds here, but I wish you'd give me a couple of days to see if I can find his replacement. Obviously I know the ropes, you're hardly ever there, and it would be great to work with somebody I know and trust who won't get all pissy like Drake."

"You were reading my mind, Robbie. Look around and get back with me in couple of days. I don't want to do a repeat of Drake either."

After I hung up, I had an epiphany of sorts. I couldn't remember a time when Brett had ever owed me less than a hundred bucks. His car was a beater and always needing something. He worked at that stupid beach bar when he wasn't playing volleyball and obviously wasn't making jack shit. Plus he had a killer bod and wasn't a complete asshole.

I called. "Hey, dude, what's up? I need to talk to you. Come meet me for a beer."

"Can't, Robbie. Waiting on the old man to get off work and take me to get an alternator."

"Call him back and tell him to blow it off. I'll take you. And fuck that fucking piece of shit car square up the fucking tailpipe. I'll see you in half an hour."

After a run to the parts store, we went for a beer or six. I told him about the job and the pay, the hours, etc; "The only down side for you in this deal, Brett, is you won't be getting much beach time this summer. It's a full-time gig, but on the bright side, if you work that fine ass of yours off, you'll be driving a new car this fall. So do yourself a favor for once, call Jackie and give her two weeks' notice. Good as she's been to you, she at least deserves that.

We start June 1st, and now that you owe me two fifty, I'm taking it out of your first check, asshole."

I called Tim back the next day. "You owe me big-time for this one, boss man. I managed to snag you a Laguna volleyball God. He has wait staff experience, the body of death and he isn't Drake. I'll bring him by the office in a couple of days. He's giving two weeks' notice at his job tomorrow, and he can start with me on the first."

I thought Tim was actually going to cry when I came walking in with Brett. And Tim is straight. After they'd talked and Brett did his paperwork, the boss said, "Let's do a trial run on the 29th. I've got some friends coming in town anyway, so we'll take a full crew and go out for the day."

Brett was a natural. Tim's friends loved him almost as much as Tim, and it looked like smooth sailing ahead. Two days later we went live with a guest list of maybe twenty five. One of the last to board was an actor and his "friend." They'd been with us several times, alone and together. But we had a strict policy of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell, and sure as hell, Don't Talk" about anything that happens aboard The Wet Dream.

"Isn't that...?" Brett asked.

"Yes, but like everyone else, he isn't here, and you did not see him."

"Didn't he just come out in that movie...?"

"Yes. Now put your tongue back in your mouth and go ask them what they'd like to drink. No autographs, either."

Then late Thursday night we were driving home. Brett said, "You know the guy who's some kind of a producer, the one with little round glasses and the ponytail? He tried to grab my ass this afternoon. I scooted out of the way and gave him the evil eye. I don't think he was even drunk."

"You're an idiot, Brett. Do you know who that guy is? Lighten up, dude. That little stunt probably cost you a fifty dollar tip. Looking like you look, do you really think Tim hired you for your bartending skills?"

"So, do you let them touch you?"

"Damned straight. Fuck, it's not like it's a big deal. How many times have I grabbed your ass? I know I've seen you grab a fistful of nuts at least a hundred times. If you wanna' make serious bank, you're gonna' have to play ball. And yes, the pun was intended."

He did seem a little more relaxed the next few days. We'd been on a 24 hour excursion until Sunday morning. People got really hammered, but it looked like everyone had a blast even if we were probably going to have to drain and power wash the Jacuzzi. I also made $425 in tips. Not bad for the beginning of summer.

I asked, "How much did you make?"

"$300. I would've made $400 if I'd let some dude blow me. He offered me a hundred bucks. I told him I was too busy. Does that ever happen to you Daddy Warbucks?"

"Sorry, I'm not having this discussion, Brett. You know the rules. What happens on The Wet Dream..."

"Stays on The Wet Dream. I hear you, Captain, loud and clear."

Because we'd been out all night, they needed to clean and restock Sunday. Monday was pretty sedate. It was only four hours and we were back by nine. I asked Brett if he wanted to grab some beer and go to the beach. We'd built a fire and were sitting there relaxing. Out of the blue, he pops off with, "I just don't want to freak out with some guy's dick in my, I mean my dick in his mouth. I need to try this someplace besides work first. If I went ape shit and decked some guy, I know Tim would fire me if you didn't. And I really want that car."

"Seriously dude? I know you must have some gay friends who'd love to suck your dick. I've seen it. They'd probably suck anything and everything you've got. Ask one of them if you'd like to get in a little practice.

Look at it this way. You carry some girl out to a decent dinner and a movie. How much does that set you back? Maybe forty bucks? Does that forty get you a blowjob or a date with your hand when you get home?"

"Sometimes I get lucky."

"Fuck luck. I'll take a guaranteed income anytime. I can't believe with that face and body, you've never even fooled around with another guy."

He started laughing. "Joey Gibbons did hunch my leg once in junior high. I smacked him pretty good."

I had to laugh at the image of that. "Brett, that isn't what I mean. Joey was a little porker who drooled and had asthma. Haven't you ever looked at some of the guys on the volleyball court and thought they were hot?"

"You mean like you?"

"Okay, sure. Like me I guess." Honestly, I really think I was only trying to prove a point. "So what if I put my hand on your leg like this and started rubbing up and down? Do you really feel like you need to smack me?"

"Maybe not if you kissed me first... I'm really serious, Robbie, I want you to kiss me." When he pulled me over on top of him, it didn't seem like he was joking.

"Okay, buddy. You asked for this." It was probably five minutes before either of us came up for air.

My brains were completely scrambled, but honestly I was considering doing it again when he looked at me and said, "More." An hour later, we took one last rinse in the water and headed home. On the way, he put his hand on my leg as we drove in silence. When I pulled up in front of his house, he didn't try to kiss me, but asked, "Next time, can we do this in bed? It's gonna' take me a week to get this sand out the crack of my ass."

I laughed and shook my head. "Next time?"

"Yeah, I think I could use more practice."