#even though I was in a tiny camper for one of those storms

[strohller27]

Man. Last year was wild (memories and musings under the cut).

One memory from last year that I probably wont be over anytime soon is when I was working a retail popup on the waterfront for the cruise ship guests.

A bit of context: At this point of last year, I was painfully homeless and when I wasn’t spending $2200 a month airbnb-hopping, I was living out of a tent at a campground to save money. My access to showers and potable drinking water was iffy at best (the showers on the campground were $2 for five minutes, and the closest water spout that worked well enough to fill bottles with was the literal bathroom sink. I’m surprised the water didn’t make me sick. The water from there often left a really weird taste/cottony sensation in the back of my throat that took days to get rid of, unless I boiled it first, and that was *if* I had access to a power outlet and an electric kettle. Also one of the airbnbs I stayed at got the water shut off for almost 28 hours because the host wasn’t paying his goddamn bills. But that’s a story I tell elsewhere). I had no reliable access to refrigeration, whether I was at an airbnb or the campground, so everything I bought to eat had to be non-perishable. For a while there, I was skipping breakfast to save enough money to buy myself loaves of bread, peanut butter, protein bars, and ramen packets.

If I wanted a hot meal, the best thing I could get was Tim Horton’s (and when I did, I was mostly using a credit card). Sometimes the only reason I could afford to both eat and have a place to stay was because I had built up Tim’s rewards points.

Thank goodness it was still mostly summer and I wasn’t also freezing cold at night.

And then I had to go to work and there were so many customers at that waterfront popup telling me I should give them discounts because “Well, I’m broke, I spent all of my money on a cruise!”

Oh? Oh??? I’m so sorry, you poor, unfortunate little soul???? Does the poow wittle bwoke babykins need a wittle discount??

First off, friendo, you keep asking me if the price is in ‘american’ because you forgot that you’re in a literal different country right now. Second, you’re complaining to a minimum wage worker about how, ‘everything is so expensive here! Oh my god you have to pay that much in taxes? What do you mean I have to pay taxes on purchases, too’. You have main character syndrome and you have the absolute goddamned gall to think you deserve $300 off a $500 handmade, HAND EMBROIDERED woollen cape that you probably won’t even wear because you live in texas????

OH, YOU “““CAN’T AFFORD””” TO BUY THAT 30 DOLLAR SCARF BECAUSE YOU *CHECKS NOTES* HAD ENOUGH MONEY TO GO ON A LITERAL INTERNATIONAL FUCKING CRUISE, BETSY-ANN??

CRY ME A FUCKING RIVER.

But the one that gets me the worst was when a guy was there with his daughter. She was probably 12 or 13. And she wanted to buy a little Canadian flag to commemorate her visit. It was literally priced at. Two. Dollars. Ninety five. Cents.

And he said to her, “Oh, come on. What good is buying this going to do? Who is it supporting.”

I was so done by that point I literally raised my hand and yelled.

“ME IT WILL SUPPORT ME IT WILL HELP ME DO FUN LITTLE THINGS LIKE BUY GROCERIES. AND EAT.”

The daughter bought the flag.

I spent so much of last year worrying about where I was going to live. Worrying about how precarious my situation was. My mother was on the phone with me almost begging me to “come home”. To give up on my dreams because it was too hard. Several people suggested that, including my academic advisor. But I wasn’t going to let it go. I let spite get me here and goddamned if I wasn’t going to let spite keep me hanging on.

And now I’m living in a place that has mostly everything I need. I don’t have to crawl under a desk to get to my bed. I don’t have to ask for permission or worry about who it will affect when I want to do something nice for myself. I’m able to make my own decisions about my living space. I get to set my own schedule. I get to do things at my own pace. I get to eat what I want to eat (and my landlady keeps feeding me, too). Now that I’m not hemorrhaging funds, I’ve been able to save up some money. I’m regularly showering and brushing my teeth. I finally have the energy make my goddamned bed every day. I’m taking care of myself in ways that seemed insurmountable last year.

I’m not saying it’s perfect, and there are still things I have to address (like the weird numb spots on the tips of both my big toes that I noticed when I was still living at the campground; like staying on a consistent schedule with my medications; like taking too many hours at work because I’m worried about affording things). And I’m aware that I completely lucked out that I speak enough Russian to be able to understand my landlord/lady. But this is so much better than I could have hoped for.

And the rest of it wasn’t all bad either. Airbnb-hopping was expensive, but staying in different areas helped me learn the city. And now I’m working at a place that I don’t hate with a passion like I did when I was working food service in the states. I actually really like my coworkers (and funny enough, the small business I work for really does feel like a family). I get to wear my kilts to work. I have the necessary knowledge to be a perfect fit for the job, and I was apparently ‘an answer to a prayer’.

The misty mornings on the campground were more magical than any other mornings I’ve ever experienced in my life. I walked around the campground and saw its little lake beach and river. I made friends with the spiders. I named most of them. Every time I heard the squirrels and chipmunks get into an argument I would giggle to myself and think ‘the girls are fightinng!’ I drove to the beach, and I saw a little boy hold up a crab he’d found with the biggest smile on his face when he asked if I wanted to pet it. I felt an almost uncontrollable urge to pick up the seaweed and eat it. I met interesting people. I made some friends. I went to a famous lighthouse. I rode the ferry to work and watched massive cruise ships docking, feeling as much awe as I did when I first saw Star Trek: The Motion Picture. I watched the sun both rise and set over the harbour. And I fell in love with this place despite all of the challenges that were in my path.

Perfect or not, I needed this. I needed to be self-sufficient and live my own life. I needed to see beauty and wonder and touch sand that was on a beach instead of on my bedroom floor. And I’m so sad that the only two times in my life I’ve really been able to do things like this and live the life I want were when I left the US. And because of that, I’m really not planning on going back to live there.

Funny that I had to leave the “land of the free” to really feel/be free, eh? Whatever the case, now I’m a maritimer by choice.

Here’s to 2024. May I learn from all that 2023 taught me (If shit sucks, hit da bricks. Leave. Do it scared. Do it alone and scared. Don’t settle for less than you deserve. Find beauty in the mundane. Advocate for yourself and your skills. Make decisions that will provide for your future so that you can take the steps you want to take, even if people think something like learning Russian isn’t going to be useful. Take those steps you want to take to follow your dreams, even if your dream seems flimsy like a cardboard façade to you. Even if those are the hardest steps you ever have to take. Today can be ‘someday’, if you let it. The greatest adventure is what lies ahead, today and tomorrow are yet to be said). May 2024 be a year for more steps forward than steps back.

[sunkissedpages]

breaking curfew || th x reader [part six]

A/N: what it do babey ahaha

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, fear of heights

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter!!

Word Count: 2.5k (updated)

Series Masterlist

Tom gulped nervously like he was suddenly reconsidering having to spend an undisclosed amount of time stuck in a small space with you. 

“Tom,” you growled and he took a step back. “What did you say?”

“I was just kidding,” he tried, but you didn’t buy it.

“No you weren’t, asshole. Who told you that?”

“I- um I just overheard your campers talking at dinner the other night?”

“Bullshit, what does ‘overheard’ really mean?”

“I may or may not have talked to them in passing...”

“What? When?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “You were preoccupied.” You still didn’t know what the fuck he meant. “With Ying,” he said like it should’ve been obvious. 

“So you think it’s okay to just take that opportunity to talk to my campers?” 

“They called me over!” 

You went on the offense. “What?! What did they want? What else did they say?”

“I don’t think I should-“

“Tom!”

“They were just asking about why you didn’t like me...”

Thunder crackled in the distance and you narrowed your eyes at him, wondering if the flush on his face was from sunburn or nerves. “And? What did you say?”

“I just said I didn’t know! That you just haven’t liked me since we were kids.”

“Of course you made me look like the bad guy, Tom. Typical.”

Tom scowled, licking his lips. “What did you want me to say? That you’re still pissed about breaking curfew one time eleven years ago?”

“Fuck you, is that really all you remember from that night? From all those years?”

“Do you always live in the past?” He asked, seeming bored.

“Do you always use humor to compensate for your tiny dick?”

“You know what, y/n, maybe if you weren’t such a bitch all the time, your campers might actually like you and wouldn’t be asking why you can’t be more like me!”

You watched his eyes grow wide with shock as yours did in turn. Your jaw went slack and your mouth fell into an o-shape. Whatever insult you had been about to hurl next dissolved on your tongue and turned bitter. It didn’t matter now. 

Tom was quiet, standing with his arms crossed in front of you, offering no apology. Your eyes burned and you didn’t even try to blink the tears away. It was your fault for pressing him into telling you what your kids really thought of you, it was your fault that they felt that way about you in the first place. But to compare you to Tom of all people, that cut deep. What had you done in a past life to deserve that blow?

“I’m requesting a transfer,” you decided simply and turned on your heel to leave.

“Wait-” Tom stuttered. You were surprised he was saying anything at all. “What do you mean transfer?”

“I mean I’m transferring to another daytime activity, if they’ll let me. I’m done with Arts and Crafts.”

“You mean you’re done with me.”

Your hand on the doorknob was the only answer you gave, but Tom reached out to stop you again, placing his hand over yours. 

“It’s still storming,” he said in a tone of annoyance tinged with concern. “The campus is locked down.”

“Are you going to stop me?” you challenged, sniffling.

He looked back down at your hands still touching and considered it, but ultimately let go, choosing to watch you run off into the rain instead. 

-

You tossed and turned in your bunk that night, unable to fall asleep. The camp beds were uncomfortable already, the added stress of the day was only making it more difficult to drift off. Tom’s words played on repeat in your head as you laid there in the dark. 

Your girls lay sleeping silently in their bunks around you, unaware of what you’d learned. In all honesty, you had thought about quitting. Packing your bags and driving home and spending the summer working retail in the city. As miserable as that sounded, you felt like you had let your campers down, and that they deserved better. Zendaya had quickly talked you out of that and insisted that even if the things Tom had said were true that there was still time to turn things around.

The summer wasn’t even close to being over, and it wasn’t that the girls didn’t like you, they just... “had a few critiques about your counseling style” as Z had put it gently.

“No first-time counselor’s perfect,” she had assured you. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve forgotten my campers names already.”

“Yeah, but have they said they wished you were more like Tom?!” you had groaned back, flopping back onto her twin-sized bed.

“Um, no. But they’re young, y/n. They probably just think he’s cute and meant it as a compliment- not an insult to you.”

“But what about when they said I’m no fun?”

Zendaya took a deep breath. “You have been a little distracted lately,” she admitted. You made a face. “Tom threw you off, I know. You weren’t expecting him to be here and he’s a dick, trust me, I get it. But at the end of the day you have to put that aside so you can do your job and be the best you can for these kids, you know? I think they probably just want you to be more engaged. Less focused on some boy, and more focused on them.”

You knew she was right, but it was still hard to hear. Zendaya wasn’t the kind of person to be brutally honest for no reason. No, she was kind and compassionate. But sometimes she would tell you what you needed to hear- always with your best interest in mind.

When your alarm went off from under your pillow the next morning you had barely slept three hours altogether. You considered snoozing it and getting up when your campers did, but you knew that the only time you had to get ready was right then so you pushed yourself up and out of bed like you were being played back in slow motion. 

You went through your routine on autopilot. Brush teeth, shower, awkward half-naked conversation with Fy, get dressed, wake kids up, help them get ready for the day. It was honestly a blur up until breakfast when you were standing in line with your cabin for pancakes. 

“Are you guys excited for the competition today?” you asked them. “It’s a lake day.”

“Yes!” Amalia exclaimed immediately. “I hope it’s a swimming race because I’ve been practicing at free time!”

From the corner of your eye you saw Grace shrink a little bit into herself and tried to smile reassuringly at her. 

“There will be some swimming,” you admitted, just so that they could all be prepared, “but not everyone will have to swim.”

You were ambushed with rapidfire questions next, but you stubbornly refused to tell them anything about the competition. Everyone else had to wait until the afternoon to learn what it was going to be, you weren’t going to give your campers an advantage by telling them what the activity was. Plus, it would ruin the fun. 

You smiled when the nagging subsided and they knew they weren’t going to get anything else out of you, but teased them with your superior knowledge about the activity all morning. 

By the time the actual event rolled around you were a little worried the hype wouldn’t live up to the actual activity. But as soon as your campers saw the pool inflatables they took off at a sprint down the hill towards the lake without warning, leaving you chasing after them with all of their backpacks and water bottles. 

For once you were early and had to wait for the rest of the camp to arrive before the competition could start, but your girls were already ready to go. It hadn’t even been explained yet, but there was a collection of fun pool floats down at the shore of the lake including, but not limited to: a flamingo, a popsicle, a watermelon slice, a shark, a pizza, a swan, a turtle, a unicorn, an iphone, a car, a rainbow, and a cat. 

They were scattered along the shore and were to be used in a partner race. Each camper would partner up with another and choose a float. One camper would get on the float and the other would be in charge of navigating it. The camper in the water was supposed to do all of the pushing and kicking while the one on top of the float could help with paddling. 

Since your cabin had five campers you teamed up with Grace. It was perfect because you knew how nervous she got around water events and could let her be the one on the float no problem. 

When Lorraine blew the whistle for the event to start chaos broke loose. You were going to let Grace pick your team’s float, but she was too slow so you grabbed the first one you could find- which just so happened to be an orange creamsicle with a bite taken out of it. 

Grace hopped onto the float and you pushed it out into the water, kicking as hard as you could. Three minutes in your stupid, ill-fitting swimsuit was riding down and your lungs were burning, but you still went as hard as you could until you reached the finish line. 

When you finally came up for air and rubbed the water from your eyes you saw Grace laughing along with the other campers who had finished around the same time. 

“What’s so funny?” you asked, putting your hands on your hips even though they couldn’t seem them under water. 

“You ran right into Theo and Amalia!” Grace snorted.

“I did?” You had absolutely no recollection of doing that, you must’ve truly been going buckwild if you didn’t even notice you had run into your own campers. You felt terrible until you saw them all giggling about it and decided to play along. “Well maybe you two shouldn’t have been in my way!”

“You’re the one who can’t swim straight!” Theo argued defensively. 

You shook your head. “I don’t know about that, I think we’re going to need to watch the replay to see who’s right.”

It wasn’t much, but they were laughing. You knew you wouldn’t be able to turn things around between you and your campers completely right away, but it was a start in the right direction. 

After everyone finished racing the winners were announced and then there was a little extra free time to spend at the lake before dinner. Cabin 11 ended up coming in third place which the girls were completely over the moon about, mostly because they beat a lot of high schoolers- which you thought was completely valid.

When event cleanup was finished and everyone was chilling by or in the water, a handful of counselors suggested cliff jumping from a wide ledge that overlooked the lake. You were going to decline the invitation when Harrison asked, but Tom said “nah, y/l/n won’t come she’s not a fun counselor”. The way he said it in front of your campers with his stupid smirk and stupid friends all watching made your blood boil.

Obviously that was a dare and obviously you had to take it, because you weren’t going to look like a pussy in front of all of your peers. And you weren’t about to let your campers down either. What’s the worst that could happen?

The cliff was a good bit higher than you were expecting, but you still told yourself you could do it. Everyone else up here was going to jump and they’d all be fine so you could too, right?

Wrong.

The ledge was probably only forty or fifty feet from the water’s surface, but once you were actually up there looking down it seemed miles away. Your campers looked like tiny dots bobbing in the water below, and you couldn’t even make out who was who. You gulped, and took a step back, pressing yourself up against the sturdy wall of the mountain for balance. 

You could hear Zendaya’s voice in the back of your mind, scolding you for giving in to peer pressure- from Tom of all people. You knew she was down there too, probably biting her nails ragged like she did when she was nervous. 

A cool breeze was making your wet swimsuit cling to your skin even more than it already was and you wrapped your arms around your shoulders in an unsuccessful attempt to fend off the chill. 

Unaware of you cowering in the corner, Harrison volunteered himself to go first. Taking a leap of faith off of the cliff, he spread his arms out like a bird and flipped into the water, shouting and screaming the whole time. 

The rest of the counselors took turns jumping, running, and pushing each other off the edge before plunging into the murky lake while you hung back. There were only a handful of jumpers left when Tom finally noticed you hiding behind everyone else. 

“You look like you’re about to puke.”

“I might,” you admitted, but shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

Unexpectedly, his face softened and his eyes crinkled with worry. “You know you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, y/n.”

“Why, so you can make fun of me for chickening out later and hold it over my head for the rest of the summer?”

“I mean that would be a bonus, but-”

You took a shaky step forward towards the jumping point. “You’re the one who said I’m boring, okay? I know you wanted me up here just so you could get back at me for transferring and prove to yourself I’m a quitter or whatever you need to tell yourself. Don’t try and backpedal now.”

You were the only two up there now, and you could hear confused shouting from 

“So what if I didn’t think you would do it?” Tom argued. “It’s just not like you!”

“You don’t know anything about me, Tom!” you shouted back. “And you don’t even like me so why do you care?”

He scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t.” 

You pushed past him to the rocky drop-off of the cliff, pausing to take a deep breath when your toes were dangling over edge. You heard Tom shout something as you fell, but it was lost in the wind whistling past your ears. 

The impact on the water knocked the air out of your lungs and made your vision go cloudy fast. You were still falling, deeper and deeper into the water, the glassy surface disappearing out of reach above you as you sunk. 

When you finally had the sense to try and swim towards the sunlight, pain tore its way up through your right arm and you tried to scream out in agony, but were suffocated by the water around you, pulling you deeper still. 

You were forced to use your left arm to try and claw your way to the surface, ignoring the way the pain from your other arm was making you feel lightheaded. Black spots danced in your vision and you were so far gone that you didn’t even notice someone swim up behind you and grab you by the waist to pull you to safety.

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[the-fae-folk]

Signs of Distress

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Sam was asking nervously as the four of them picked their way across the back of the local cemetery.

Snow dusted the tops of the gravestones and the remains of a bouquet of flowers that had clearly been there since before winter since they had been rotting when the cold had arrived and frozen them solid in the tiny vase attached to the grave. Andy Wright was peering at the names on the stones as he walked by, occasionally poking a bit of snow away from a name with his walking stick, which he clearly did not need to walk. He was wrapped tightly in a scarf and a long woolen coat and looked, at least to Ardri, a bit like an annoyed bear who was just waking up for spring. “Absolutely sure,” said Andy. “Its just over in those trees. The story clearly mentioned the campers having come up from the river and having seen what they were sure was a specter as they reached the back end of the cemetery. There really isn’t much room for error here you know. But I highly doubt this will be- oh no.” He broke off suddenly, looking faintly annoyed. As they had reached the end of the cemetery lawn and were about to start down the short slopes that ended in a mostly frozen stream bed, an angry looking woman had appeared upon the other side and stormed down to meet them. She was doing something with her hands and looking absolutely enraged, her teeth gritted in a snarl as she made gestures at Andy, who was backing up as if he were contemplating making a break for it. “Now really,” he was saying as he made hand gestures of his own at her. “There’s no need to be melodramatic, Miss Green. We have no intention of invading your yard. What do you mean we’ve already done it?” Ardri looked around at Oliver and Sam for some kind of explanation. Sam shrugged, but Oliver was grinning. “She’s deaf. That’s sign language. I can read a bit, hold on.” He squinted at the woman’s hands as she focused her rage towards Andy. “I think she’s saying something about the land up to the back edge of the Cemetery belonging to her and that we’re trespassing. Oh and she called Andy a c-” he broke off suddenly as Andy swung round to glare at him. “Um...idiot,” he amended quietly. It seemed for a moment that the woman might actually hit Andy as she continued trying to back him up the slope towards the cemetery. But he stopped moving and she too stopped to avoid running into him. “Now wait just one moment, Amelia.” He said angrily as he signed back. “I have a copy of the town property lines on display in the Library. The cemetery grounds cover this part of the river and the area for three meters on the other side. Your property doesn’t start till that Beech over there, and I will not be chased off of public property.” Looking incensed the woman gave up on them, gave one final hand gesture that Ardri guessed was probably more profanity, and disappeared back up the other slope and into the trees. Andy sighed deeply and shook his head. “Bother her anyway,” he muttered and waved them on as he started down the riverbed. Oliver leaned close to Ardri and Sam so he could whisper to them without Andy overhearing. “They’ve hated each other for years. My dad says they fight at every city council meeting, even though he’s supposed to be interpreting for her half the time. I think they might have had a thing a long time ago.” “If you’ve quite finished discussing things,” said Andy loudly from ahead of them. “Then lets please get a move on. It’s cold.”

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Off on a nautical adventure!

We're sailing the Stone Glass Seas, exploring uncharted territory and enjoying the breeze. Rocky and Chrissie are here with some friends to go on a sailing adventure where they happened to run into Gulliver. So they made a stop at the camp and invited us campers to tag along because the more, the merrier!

It feels like forever since Rocky went sailing, which seems surprising since that's his thing. But with him and Lex busy with Talia and now Kessa, sailing has taken kind of a backseat. Of course, Rocky showed us pics of baby Kessa - who is adorable - and Talia, who's walking and talking now. As for Rocky and Lex's wedding, they're aiming for next year - preferably before baby number three comes along, they joke.

Now that Rocky and Lex are out of the newborn stage and have fully adjusted to two babies, they finally have some time to themselves. Chrissie's been helping out a lot as well as serving as sort of a peacemaker between Rocky and their uncle. It's not that they don't get along, it's just that McMann's the old fashioned type so the fact that his bisexual nephew's in a relationship with an enby and they have two kids while unmarried is kinda hard for him to wrap his head around. He does like Lex though and is actively making an effort not to misgender them and such, so at least there's that.

Joining them is Emma with her nieces and nephew. Emma just made the move to Cityburg about a month ago to move in with her brother and his kids. Despite working her ass off for six years in college, Emma was down on her luck, forced to live off her parents. When they told her that they were gonna kick her out, Danny stepped in, which they weren't too happy about. The kids are all for it as Emma's the favorite (and only) aunt and Danny could really use the help.

Margie, Rusty, and Linda like having Emma around and she likes being with them. Danny's a nightclub entertainer at the Cocktail Cabana who occasionally travels so he's not home all the time. Things haven't been easy since his husband and eldest daughter passed away last year, forcing Margie to take over as caretaker as well as housekeeper. While Emma and Margie have always gotten along like sisters, there has been some undercurrents as to who runs things around the house.

When the twins invited Emma to go sailing, she suggested bringing the kids along since Danny will be traveling that week and the kids are off from school. Emma also hopes to work things out with Margie, who she thinks has forgotten how to be a teenager. Now that we've been out on the sea for a couple days, I can see what she means. We all feel bad for Margie as she was forced to grow up quickly and as a result, she also became protective of her family.

Rusty and Linda are up to their own mischievous ways as usual, always keeping Emma and Margie on their toes. Sherry's presence is sorely missed - she was more than just Margie's partner in crime, she was also the ringleader of the Amos-Thomas siblings. A part of me had hoped that Sherry would make a miraculous recovery, but as time went on, all hopes of that diminished.

On a side note, Sherry would've turned sixteen last week - and the month before would've been Terry's birthday. So that's another reason why Emma decided to take the kids along - to give them a distraction so they won't be at each other's throats. And it's definitely been helping, especially for Rusty and Linda, who are having a great time right now. I think it's working for Emma and Margie too - or at least Emma can talk to her without feeling like she's walking on eggshells. I hope things work out for them.

While on our way to Wavy Shores, we ran into Gulliver, making his round trips as usual. Along with the usual treats he brings back, he also has some passengers tagging along. Through his travels, Gulliver often runs into villagers - most who I've never met before - and sometimes they join him on his voyage, later joining us at the camp. I'm pretty sure Gulliver talks up about the camp but I'm not complaining - the more, the merrier! So not only we got treats and maps, but also new friends to look forward to when we get back.

Wavy Shores definitely lives up to its name. Dixie first came across this place by accident and became mesmerized by the landscape. Given her stories about the shores, Rocky had to see it for himself. In fact, a good number of the places on the itinerary - aside from uncharted territory we plan on exploring - were places Dixie have been to. Rocky's been living the dream spending a lot of time with Dixie as she's basically a role model for him, the one who taught him how to sail. It's cute seeing his eyes light up whenever he talks about Dixie!

Everything in Wavy Shores is, well, wavy. Even the sky looks like a blend of wavy colors, contrasting with the sand dunes, the rocks, and the deep blue sea. It's so fascinating to look at - nature is amazing!

To the southwest is Polka Dot Leaf, a floating island known for its coral castle ruins. The exact location is a bit tricky to pinpoint because the island tends to shift due to the rough waters. We lucked out as around this time of year the seas are much calmer so it's all smooth sailing from there - I'd hate to get stuck in the middle of a storm.

The reason why it's called Polka Dot Leaf is because from above that's what the island looks like. It's one of those places that nature is slowly reclaiming, overgrown with seaweed brambles and seabloom blossoms. Walking into a coral castle ruin feels surreal, like I'm expecting the room to transform into another world.

What happened to the island's inhabitants remain a mystery, which adds to the appeal and mystique. Bedrooms with unmade beds, a kitchen sink full of chipped dishes, a desk full of yellowed papers covered in scribbles, a basket of laundry waiting to be folded - all of that, frozen in time. So many untold stories left behind.

To the east lies Summer Grove, a rainforest that is home to many rare butterflies. I've never seen so many colorful butterflies at once! All those colors and shapes - it's amazing to witness! Not to mention how majestic the butterflies are, fluttering about against a sea of green. We also enjoyed the tropical fruits and swimming at the lagoon. The weather was incredibly warm, but not overly humid or hot - which I'm grateful for or else I wouldn't have been able to appreciate the scenery as much and that would be a huge shame.

Then north we went through the Pearl Breeze Current to the idyllic mountains of Quill. Sailing through the Pearl Breeze is no easy feat as the current can be quite tricky to navigate, especially if you're not an experienced sailor. We were on the edge of our seats in our life jackets, holding our breaths while Rocky braved the waters. It was rough, but we made it!

A couple hours later we made it to the mountains and checked into a hotel for a well deserved rest. It's a good thing we weren't too far from land because I wasn't sure how much longer I could handle being at sea after the ordeal with the Pearl Breeze. Aside from a bad headache, an early rest did the trick along with some aspirin and a cool wet cloth.

The next day we went hiking in the mountains, where we came across a cave full of paintings and little iridescent crystals. Exploring the cave was a lot of fun, especially for the kids. Margie and Chrissie put their Chickadee Scout skills to use by guiding us through the tunnels, leading us to an old fountain covered in gothic roses. At first we thought the fountain was broken, until Rusty noticed that the overgrown foliage had blocked something. After a lot of tugging and pulling, a huge burst of water came out, soaking all of us. It was like the fountain came to life, showering us with crystal clear water and gothic rose petals.

On the way back to the hotel we stopped by a shop to change into some dry clothes. Everything looked so nice that it was hard to choose what to wear! Lately I've been into muted neutrals and florals and the store just happened to cater to my interests. Eventually I settled on a dusky pink floral dress with a maroon cardigan and then splurged on a lacy white blouse paired with a brown floral skirt. And then after that we browsed some other shops before grabbing dinner and heading back to the hotel.

Westward bound we headed to Greenaway, an archipelago known for its rare and unusual gems. At the center of the island is the famous volcano, a marvelous sight to see according to many adventurers. Rocky and Chrissie's uncle visited there about thirty years ago, witnessing an eruption when the village he was staying at was forced to evacuate. Since then that part of the island has been abandoned, though as of last year part of the outskirts is no longer restricted to the public.

Chrissie was hoping to find the house McMann rented along with some stuff he had to leave behind. It was long shot, especially since most of the area's buried in volcanic ash, but we figured that it wouldn't hurt to take a look - as long as it's safe. So we did, and as expected, we couldn't get too far because the entire village's pretty much gone. But we were able to figure out the area where McMann stayed based on the lamppost that served as a landmark - one of the few things that wasn't entirely buried in ash or destroyed in the eruption. It's eerie, looking at the remains of what was once a busy place.

Now we're sailing north, to Sunstone Caves. According to Dixie, the island's a floating desert in the middle of nowhere. It's a long ride - at least three days - so we have to be prepared for anything. While out on sea, especially with no landmarks to spot or keep us on track, time can stretch and bend in unpredictable ways. Luckily we're well stocked with supplies and good company so that'll make the time go by smoothly.

Being out here surrounded by sea and sky, it makes me feel so small. Compared to the sea, I'm a tiny little speck floating about. There's so much of the world around me, so much that I don't know about - it's something that keeps me going. The fact that there's so much to see, to explore, to experience - sometimes you get lucky and suddenly all these far off places you've never dreamed of seeing are within your grasp.

[starryviolentine]

Camp Paya (A Pre-Apocalypse Story): Chapter 3/?

Part three of the “Pre-Apocalypse Adventures” Series

Chapter 1 (here)     Chapter 2 (here)

Strangely enough, Violet, who insisted that she was feeling sick and had been rushed to the infirmary by Therissa and tagalong Brody, makes a miraculous recovery right after Sam drops by to let them know that the tour has ended and they have a bit of free time before having to meet at The Pit. It’s too coincidental, but because Violet keeps dismissing their concerns, insisting that she’s okay and that there’s nothing else wrong, Brody and Therissa drop it, deciding that it’s not worth the fight. Besides, Violet really does seem to be feeling fine again—the color has returned to her face and she leaps energetically off the cot, grabbing her roommates by the arms and pulling them towards the door. 

At the meeting, all of the campers and cabin leaders are given a seven-day time schedule with blank boxes for each time slot that they’re free to choose their own activities. Ms. Pam gives them their first assignment. They’re to spend the next hour thinking about which activities they want to try and plan out their schedule for the first week of camp, starting with their very first activity slot happening later that afternoon. 

Brody, who has always taken her work seriously and is ready to get right to work, unzips the fanny pack around her waist, pulls out two pencils—one blue and one purple—and hands the latter to Violet. “So, what are we gonna do this week?”

Reluctantly taking the pencil, Violet slides off the log bench onto the ground, stretching out her legs and leaning her back against the wood. “Do we have to do this now? Can’t we, like, take a break or get a snack, or something?”

“We have our first activity this afternoon,” Brody reminds her. “I was thinking, maybe we could learn how to make those friendship bracelets. Remember? The really pretty ones they showed us in the art studio?” 

Violet scrunches up her nose. “Really? There are a billion cool things to do here, but you wanna sit in a room and do arts and crafts?”

That hurts Brody’s feelings a little, but she tries not to show it. “Well, okay, what do you wanna do first?”

“The rock climbing wall looked pretty cool.”

“But… didn’t you think it seemed kinda scary? It’s so high up,” says Brody, wearing her fears on her sleeve. “What if you fall?”

“They tie you to a rope, Brody. You’re not gonna fall.”

This isn’t going quite like Brody had imagined. “I just, I thought that we could start off with something simple and relaxing, you know? Since it’s the first day and all. Like, arts and crafts, and then tomorrow we could—”

“Simple and relaxing? More like lame and boring.”

Before Violet can stop herself, the words slip from her lips. She didn’t intend to sound so mean, but she’s getting a little annoyed at the thought of being stuck indoors making jewelry instead of literally any of the other, way more exciting activities. 

Unfortunately, the damage has already been done, and Brody, balling her fists, responds in a defensive tone that’s just as sharp as her friend’s. “Art is not lame or boring, Violet!”

“Oh, sorry,” Violet says crossly, voice dripping with sarcasm and making her sound an awful lot like their older roommate when she’s in a bad mood. “I thought this was supposed to be summer camp, not bummer camp.”

Brody narrows her eyes and bites her tongue to hold back a frustrated yell. “Well, we have to agree on something, or else… or else we won’t get to do anything together this summer!”

“Yeah, well, then maybe we shouldn’t.”

Before Brody realizes what’s happening, Violet slams the pencil down on the seat of the bench and gets to her feet. Without another word, she storms away in a huff and doesn’t look back, leaving Brody to fume and froth all by herself. 

And she does, for a while. 

With burning hot in her eyes and trembling fingers, Brody furiously shoves her pencils back into her bag and folds her schedule in half, tucking it inside the cover of her diary. A walk and a change of scenery should help clear her head. In a few minutes, Brody finds herself standing on one of the docks overlooking the lake. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, filling her belly and lungs with each breath of fresh air. As she breathes, she focuses on the heat of the sunshine on her skin until her arms and legs tingle under the warmth of the sun’s rays. 

Shedding her shoes and socks, Brody takes a seat at the edge of the dock and lets her legs dangle over the side, submerging her feet ankle-deep into the cool water below. Ever since she was a baby, Brody has loved the water. The way it soothes her and puts her heart at ease even on the worst of days is almost magical. Before long, Brody is calm enough to continue working on her schedule, and she fills each box with the activities she wants to do the most. Arts and crafts. Swimming. Hiking. Gymnastics. Horseback riding. Just because she might be flying solo doesn’t mean she can't have fun.  

Violet isn’t her only friend, after all.

Brody finishes her schedule right on time, then stops to double check that her handwriting is neat and perfectly centered in each of the boxes, erasing and rewriting where needed. After careful consideration, Brody has decided to start in the art studio after all. She hasn’t figured out what, exactly, she wants to do yet, so she starts off by wandering around to see what there is to see. The first room she peeks inside turns out to be the jewelry station, and all the supplies to make those colorful, woven bracelets that Brody admires so much are spread out across a table in the corner of the room. As much as she wants to make one, however, in her eyes, this is something that best friends have to do together. There’s only one person she wants to exchange friendship bracelets with, and even though she happens to be upset with said person at the moment… and even though said person might never agree to make one with her at all, Brody’s not going to do it without her. 

During her search for something else to do, Brody finds herself in the doorway of a spacious room with a row of paint-splatted easels along one wall and matching paint-splattered tables in the center of the floor. Stretched out on one of these tables is a long, blank piece of banner paper, and the way the edges are curling inward is a telltale sign that it has most likely been cut from a giant roll. The paint studio is empty except for one other girl, who is so absorbed in whatever she’s doodling in her sketchbook that she doesn’t notice Brody come in. Curiosity getting the better of her, Brody creeps toward the girl, inching ever so slowly her way, until she’s close enough to peer over her shoulder at her drawing.

Finally feeling someone’s presence, the redhead’s hand stops, pencil hovering about an inch above the page. She holds her breath, already expecting whoever’s standing behind her to comment on her art, maybe ask what it is or what it’s for, and then, without fail, ask for a self portrait. The life of an artist sure can be troublesome sometimes!

“Wow, that’s so pretty! You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” the girl replies softly. And then she waits for it. The inevitable “Can you draw me?”

But it doesn’t come. Instead, the auburn-haired girl takes a seat in the chair next to her and gives her a warm smile. “I’m Brody. What’s your name?”  

“Sophie.”

Brody’s smile lingers even after their exchange comes to an end, although it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. After a moment, it fades and a tiny flicker of sadness appears on her face. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

“Sure,” says Sophie, shrugging. “The paint stuff is in the cupboard by the sink if you need it. They said we could help ourselves as long as we don’t make a mess. And the paper’s in those drawers.”

For the third summer in a row, Sophie has been entrusted with the important task of designing the banner for the Camp Paya Talent Showcase. She really enjoys working with the drama department and getting to witness everything that happens behind the scenes. But most of all, she loves getting to see one of her original creations hanging right above the stage for everyone to see. It’s her own way to shine without having to step into the spotlight. Unlike her sister, who sings in the show every year and usually gets the most enthusiastic round of applause out of all the performers, Sophie prefers to display her artistic prowess in subtler ways—just enough for people to appreciate and admire what she does without being the center of attention. 

After several more minutes of erasing and adjusting her sketch, Sophie lays her personal set of colored pencils out in front of her and picks out a few different shades of purple, red, orange and pink, already having a color scheme in mind. Ever since Ms. Pam mentioned that this year’s talent show was going to be in the evening instead of after lunch like it had been in the past, Sophie’s been unable to get the image of the gorgeous sunset she saw a few days ago out of her head. Her godparents had taken her and her sister out for a birthday weekend treat. They went to the mall to see a movie and even got to play around in the movie theater arcade afterwards. They ended the day with dinner at their favorite restaurant, and, as they walked through the parking lot back to the car, the sun was setting and the sky was the most incredible palette of colors Sophie has ever seen.

While her sister has been recreating the opening scene to the movie they watched every morning since then, dancing and lip-syncing to the catchy song playing in her head while getting dressed, Sophie’s been thinking about the colors of the sky. And it’s the greatest feeling to know that she’s going to get to paint with them very, very soon. 

Just as soon as she copies her sketch onto the banner, of course.   

“Hey, do you think this looks okay?” Sophie stands and turns to her left, wanting to show her sketchbook to Brody and get her approval, but she stops when she realizes that the other girl is just sitting there, resting her head in her arms on the table and looking really upset. “Oh, um…”

“It’s beautiful,” Brody says, complimenting Sophie’s drawing nonetheless. “You know what it makes me think of? Sitting in the sand on a tropical island… and looking out at the line where the ocean touches the sky… and it’s that time of day when the sun’s going down and everything’s just glowing in the low light. Sunset halfway underwater… Silhouettes of palm trees against the clouds...” Even though she sounds a little sad, there’s a soft, dreamy half-smile on Brody’s face as she runs her fingertips across the colors. “I imagine the sky would look just like that.”

As Sophie listens, the girl’s voice turns into the bubbling of salty waves rolling onto the sand and the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. The young artist’s face starts to feel warm, as though she was actually there on that island, basking under the setting sun on that beach in Brody’s imagination. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too.”

“Are you gonna make a big version of it on that?” Brody points at the large, white sheet of paper on the table. Sophie nods, and Brody’s smile grows wider. “Oh, it’s gonna look so nice!”

“Do you wanna help me?”

Eyes widening, Brody shakes her head fervently. “Oh, I couldn’t! I’m not that good. Not like you. What if… what if I mess up and ruin it?”

Sophie grabs her pencil and sketchbook and moves around the table to the opposite side. “Don’t worry, it’s not like I’d make you do anything hard. Just easy stuff. That’s why you’re here, right? ‘Cause you wanna make art?”

“Yeah, but I’m not really an artist...”

“Anyone who makes art is an artist,” says Sophie, smiling reassuringly. “I’m gonna outline the letters first, but then you can help color them in.”

The other girl is still worried. “Are you sure?”

“It’ll be fine. I promise,” Sophie insists. “Can you hold a brush?”

Brody slowly nods her head.

“And can you do this?” Pretending that she’s holding a paintbrush, Sophie sweeps her hand back and forth in simple but exaggerated brush strokes. The redhead tries her best to keep a straight face but ends up dissolving into giggles. 

“Well… yeah, I suppose.”

“Perfect! You’re hired!” Sophie holds out her hand for Brody to shake. “Just think of it like a giant coloring book. All you need to do is try to stay inside the lines.”

Maybe it’s because she really loves coloring books, or maybe it’s because there’s just something so kind and sincere about Sophie that makes Brody feel right at home, but that’s all the convincing she needs. After everything that happened today, Brody doesn’t know if she’s going to get a chance to make friendship bracelets with Violet, or if she’s even going to spend any time with her best friend while at camp. But she does know one thing, at least. She very well might be the luckiest girl in the world to have already found a new friend.

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mount Othrys

           After the Romans’ failed ambush of Alabaster’s laboratory, a celebration is warranted for the victors! Unfortunately, not all the revelers know what “relaxation” means….

   Alabaster: the Delicate Dance of Chance Part I

             Alabaster felt stupid.

           He hoped Axel would be an ally in the feeling, so was disappointed—and rather bewildered—to find the older boy applying black eye liner with a handheld mirror. Alabaster was so unprepared for the warrior to be dallying with makeup that he would have left the Sabotage Unit’s tent had tiny Pax not cried, “Witch Boy!”

           A cheer went up from the inhabitants: children of Aphrodite paused in helping others with their makeup and hair, children of Hermes paused in their preparations for food and drink, and his siblings sent up little fireworks.

           Alabaster managed a nod of acknowledgement. As much as Alabaster hated it, he’d mentally prepared himself to receive embarrassing amounts of attention. Everyone would feel validated and good about putting him on the spot today, like getting one of those horrific singing balloons for a birthday.

           “Are you ready to celebrate the victory of the Triple A Chimera?!” Pax cried.

           Another cheer went up, loud enough that the ground felt like it was trembling.

           This time, Axel leaned his head back and released an animalistic howl that probably would have made Alabaster’s monster siblings drool. Alabaster didn’t want to be around them drooling. One would need a mop the size of Luke’s chariot to clean that up.

           Alabaster shook his head. The slightest smile graced his lips.

           He, Axel, and Pax had survived a statistical probability akin to that of shoving one’s head in a hippo’s mouth. His pleasure and celebration had come from their survival, and knowing they’d excelled during the fight.

However, it did not from some superficial, obligatory dance.

           “Triple A Chimera, Ajax?” Alabaster asked. “That name isn’t going to stick.”[1]

           The cheering quieted down as everyone finished preparing.

           Pax seemed unconcerned by Alabaster’s skepticism. He turned back to Axel and tugged on his older brother’s wrist. “Axxxeellll, come onnnn! You’re pretty enough. You don’t need to pretty up to disappoint more women and men.”

           Alabaster snorted, walking up alongside their bedrolls. If the Pax brothers were going to turn out as promising as Jack anticipated—and so far they had—Luke really needed to get them their own room. Even if they had their own room, Alabaster assumed that Pax would still scamper into his room at night, asking for a story before bed. Pax’s complete illiteracy disturbed Alabaster greatly.

           With the deadest expression Alabaster could maintain, he asked, “I don’t know Axel—are you pretty enough?”

           Before Axel could retort, a stout blond barged into the tent with a loud speaker. “Gentlemen of the hour!” He nodded respectfully. “And Ajax.”

           Pax winked at his friend with his hazel eye.

           “May I direct you towards the exit! We need prepare you for your epic entrance of epicness—Jack’s orders of course.” Matthias motioned towards the exit of the tent. There was a suspicious sack of what appeared to be rotten vegetation on his back. He bowed graciously. “Good siiiiirrrrrs.”

           Alabaster still couldn’t tell if he liked or hated this kid. He was a genius with machinery, but, he and Lou Ellen had made Pax into a pranking nightmare. Alabaster refused to believe it had anything to do with Mercedes (as Pax claimed).

           Alabaster felt his stomach tighten. “Entrance?” he asked.

           Matthias mimed the motion of stapling his mouth shut, complete with sound effects.

           Alabaster had been hoping to avoid that extreme a spot light. On the field directing troops? Certainly. In a tent full of campers, lecturing on poisons and the importance of intelligent fighting? Of course.

Not at the equivalent of a high school dance.

           As they exited the tent, Pax skipping and Axel casually tapping out a cigarette, Alabaster sighed. “I haven’t been to a dance since Cotillion.”

           When they got outside the tent, Alabaster balked. There was a hyperborean (or frost giant) outside with a chariot strapped on its back like a backpack. Someone must have crafted a dress shirt for the thirty-foot man. The cream color made his blue skin and grey hair look extra chilled.

           Axel and Alabaster stopped to stare.          

           Pax yipped in glee.  “Is that our ride?!” He bolted towards the giant.

           The cigarette fell out of Axel’s mouth.

           “Dude, nothing but the best for the Triple A Chimera,” Matthias said with a grin. “Frosty! Heel!”

           The frost giant sat down on its rear, narrowly missing a giggling Pax. The ground trembled. Behind the frost giant, the “Assault and Battery” unit’s tent collapsed, earning several cries of displeasure.

           The giant gave a terrifyingly idiotic grin to Matthias.

           Matthias gave him a thumbs up. “You got it big guy! More yams for you!”

           Axel and Alabaster exchanged a glance. The message was clear: this contraption was an abomination and they needed to stop Pax before he got inside, or they’d never get him out.

***

           Fifteen minutes and lots of pleading later, Axel and Alabaster climbed into the abomination-contraption beside Pax.

           Pax was bouncing with excitement, sending uncomfortable vibrations through the chariot with each jump.

           Matthias—hanging off the outside of the chariot—gave them each a bungee rope. When Alabaster realized that the straps attaching the chariot to the giant’s back were made out of the same material, he thought about turning Matthias into a weasel.

           Axel held out his bungee cord. “What are these?”

           “Seatbelts,” Matthias said.  

           “Wouldn’t it be more dangerous to be attached to this catastrophe?” Alabaster asked.

           “Yep,” Matthias affirmed.

           The mechanic tested one of the giant’s shoulder straps. It made a thwang noise.

           Pax laughed gleefully. He wrapped an arm around Alabaster’s and Axel’s waists. The motion made Alabaster stumble. From the hollow sound of the floorboards, he wondered if they were made from cardboard. Though, the chariot—at least—had to be soundly constructed, right?

           Matthias gave them one more thumbs up before hopping off.

           “We’re not actually taking this thing,” Axel said. He looked paler than normal as the giant happily picked its nose. Alabaster had to agree with Axel—this was ludicrous.

           Matthias raced to a four wheeler parked nearby. “Can’t hear you over the sound of your awesome entrance!” he shouted and started the engine.

           Everything shook as Frosty the giant scrambled to his feet.

           Axel dug his claws into the chariot’s front.

           Alabaster mentally flipped through any incantation that could possibly make them levitate.

           Pax kept laughing. He released them and latched his bungee cord to the side railing, like that would do anything. Alabaster feared that Pax would try to swing from it.

           Somewhere on the ground, Alabaster could hear Matthias’s four wheeler squeal away. The giant thundered forward, likely in pursuit of the rotten yam bag.

           After the few minutes of acclimating to the sheer terror (at being strapped onto an idiot giant’s back with bungee cords, being lead by another idiot in a beat-up metal death trap) Alabaster could pretend to relax. The chariot hadn’t shaken to pieces yet and the bungee cords hadn’t snapped. He could fool himself into thinking their probability of survival was high.

           When he remembered to breathe, he appreciated the eagle’s view of their ragtag camp. He didn’t dare lean against the wooden railing that Matthias had slapped onto the back of the chariot, but he could lean against the firmer side railing and gaze outward.

           Their camp had financial backers. Plenty of people hated the Hellenistic gods, New Rome, and Camp Half-Blood. But, they weren’t far on construction. The black marble base of Kronos’s palace was still underway. Their tents were a sad replacement for Camp Half-Blood’s cabins or the Roman barracks. His laboratory was supposed to be the nicest structure a few miles outside of camp, but the Romans had compromised that in their last attack. Even their chariot parking lot wasn’t paved.

           But, that was their home. Since the Pax brothers had forcibly given him the brotherly treatment, both younger and older, it felt more like a real home.      

           “Do you think looking away from the chariot will make it more or less likely to fall apart?” Pax asked his brother.

           Alabaster didn’t need to glance over to envision the rage on Axel’s face. “When we get off of this, I’m ripping your ear off,” Axel growled, “And setting Matthias’ four wheeler on fire.”

           Alabaster cracked a smile. These two were lunatics.

           In his peripheral vision, he could see Pax lean against Matthias’s makeshift railing. He put a hand up to his brow to shade his eyes from the setting sun. The rays looked magnificent against the woods around Camp Othrys. Normally little sunlight could get through with Atlas’s storm clouds, but the sky seemed to be less stormy tonight.

           “You know, we did that thing you said earlier too: cotillion,” Pax said cheerfully. The pose made him look like an adventurer, especially with his crazy, raven hair flipping around in the giant-created-breeze.

           Alabaster tried to imagine either of these brothers ballroom dancing in an etiquette class. He couldn’t. Not with Pax’s ADHD or Axel’s stubbornness.  

           “You’re lying,” Alabaster decided.

           “No, really. We did it for six months before we got here,” Pax said. He went to fold his arms, only to grab hold of the railing as their giant stumbled. “Axel loved it.”

           Alabaster glanced behind him, to where Axel still had his claws in the front of the chariot. The older boy stared off aloofly, but the tension in his arms ruined the calm visage. Axel shrugged. “I like to dance.”

           At the absurdity of the comment, Alabaster wanted to call their jest.

           But, the Pax brothers had gone silent, both staring off at the setting sun, like they could track the progress of a fading memory. Most campers didn’t like to talk about why they were in Camp Othrys. All of them had their reasons, none pleasant.  

           Alabaster ground his teeth thinking about his own experiences with the Greek gods and what happened to his father.

           No one in their trio had talked about why they were here. The memory of Axel slicing the tattoo off his hip made Alabaster frown. That was when he came to understand Axel better. Through Axel’s sweat and pallor, Alabaster could see the determination in his golden eyes, and the relief at having that layer of skin removed. Axel never explained what the Mayan hieroglyph meant, and Pax would redirect questions about the same, intact tattoo on his hip.

           Alabaster glanced back towards their disappearing camp.

           Although he couldn’t see over the giant’s shoulders, nor did he want to face the giant that reeked of rotten yams, he knew they’d be approaching the local Tamalpais High School—a school gracious enough to rent out their facilities when Alabaster and Prometheus asked on behalf of their “home school” group. Normally, they used it for “rallies.” Would Alabaster have agreed to persuade the school if he knew it would be used to facilitate a dance?

           They were almost there. While Alabaster wanted off of this Fastpass to Hades, he almost wished they could talk longer. He wanted to know more about the Pax brothers—what they were, where Axel got his powers, why Pax never seemed to use his—and suspected they would shut down as soon as they hopped off.

             ***

             They dismounted. Matthias gave Frosty a bag of yams, and Axel caught Matthias and Pax to sock Matthias in the stomach and twist Pax’s ear. Once done, Matthias lead them through the back doors. He deposited them down a hallway, outside another set of doors, saying, “Wait to hear yourselves announces! Matthias out!”  Then he disappeared down the hall, clutching at his stomach.

           Music thumped against the other side of the wall, and Alabaster felt himself getting nauseous with each throb of the subwoofer.

           Being “announced” sounded like code for being humiliated.        

           He understood the importance of catharsis for the troops. But this wouldn’t be a catharsis for him. It would be two hours of checking his watch to see if the socially appropriate amount of time had passed that he could leave. Most of that time would be in a corner, with a drink, trying to find someone to talk business about their next battle.        

           “Hey, I’ll make sure you’re never awkwardly alone,” Pax assured him.

           “Having you around is more likely to ward people off,” Alabaster snapped. He knew it wasn’t true: Pax was really popular with his buoyant, persistent cheerfulness. But Alabaster really didn’t need this thirteen-year-old reminding him that he was socially awkward. And he didn’t need everyone seeing him hang out with someone so young.

           When Alabaster glared over, he could see Pax’s lower lip quiver on his smile. Axel examined him carefully, cracking his knuckles.

           Alabaster sighed. “I don’t need a kid taking care of me,” he said, gentler.

           As best he could, Pax kept his tone light. “You can tell everyone you’re babysitting me.”

           “You are babysitting him,” Axel said. He turned his gaze to the lights flashing through the slit of the doors. “Remember, he’s allergic to nuts and will eat any dessert without asking what’s in it.”

           Alabaster balked. “What are you going to be doing the whole time?” Although Alabaster didn’t want to admit to it, he felt relieved. That was a phenomenal and realistic excuse to have Pax with him the whole time; he wouldn’t need to be awkwardly fidgeting alone or jumping between different conversations.

           Axel cracked his neck to one side. His grin turned crooked. “Figuring out who the best dance partner is in Camp Othrys.”

           Pax looked thrilled. “I’ll bet it’s Flynn or Jack.”

           “Figuring out who the best dance partner is in Camp Othrys that isn’t Flynn or Jack,” Axel corrected.

           Alabaster couldn’t imagine this quiet, curt soldier hopping from partner to partner. Before he could comment, the music quieted and Jack’s unmistakable bravado announcing, “And now—the reason we’ve all gathered… the Triple A Chimera!”

           Alabaster scowled. “Ajax, did you tell Jack about that stupid Chimera name?”

           “Yea, he loved it.”

           A drum roll resounded through the door. Lights flashed in brilliant intervals through the slit. Alabaster could feel his heart pounding with panic. This sounded more like the entrance for idiot football players.

           And the Pax brothers were walking towards the door like this was normal. “Ajax, you wanna do something fancy?” Axel asked.

           “Yea!” the younger cheered and jumped with excitement.

           “I’ll carry Alabaster on my shoulder. Do whatever you want elsewhere.”

           “Excuse me?!” Alabaster demanded.

           Axel’s hand flashed out faster than Alabaster could react. The older boy hooked an arm around his waist, destroying any chances for escape from this idiocy.

           Pax threw the door open for them.

           “It’s called presentation,” Axel said through gritted teeth. He struggled to keep Alabaster’s hands from his emergency spell pouches while dragging the thinner boy through the doorway.

           Once on the other side, Alabaster was blinded. From what he could guess, they were on some kind of stage. A curtain or something partially obscured their assumed audience. Backstage.

           As they walked towards the center, Axel hefted Alabaster off his feet and onto his shoulder, like he was no more than a shoulder puppet.

           Alabaster hissed, “I’m not an acrobat!” Struggles ceased at the threat of falling. He found himself rigidly sitting six feet higher than he was used to, on a moving surface without a backing. He clutched Axel’s shoulder, knowing the wrong movement would mean a close-call with a broken bone, and, he knew how sloppy a healer Jack was.

           “So?” Axel grunted. “Do some smoke and mirrors stuff or something. Oh—and when I do a front roll, you’re going to want to break fall.”

           Rustling sounded by the curtain. Alabaster frantically glanced over to find Pax—having scaled one of the dangling catwalk ropes—gracefully stepping one foot onto Axel’s other shoulder and the other foot onto Axel’s head.

           “Ajax!” the older hissed with the strain of their weight. Granted, the thirteen-year-old couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds, but Axel still walking with over two hundred pounds on his shoulders and head.

           As they stepped away from the minor protection of the curtain, Alabaster’s brain spun. Every part of him wanted to freeze up, then scream in frustration. Smoke and mirrors?! He wanted to demand. But, the thought of smoke calmed him. Maybe he could buy a little more coverage and give this audience a taste of what really happened in the Roman attack.

           With as little movement as he could manage, Alabaster slipped three smoke bombs from his pockets and tossed them in Axel’s path, hoping the acrobat wouldn’t trip on them.

           “Alright, all you monsters and fiends! Here they are! The men of the hour!”

           The smoke screen twisted up with three random colors: gold, green, and black.

           Pax giggled with delight, pointing forward. With his one leg higher on Axel’s head, he looked like the image of Captain Morgan.

           Everyone would still be able to see them emerging from the smoke though. Alabaster needed to do something to distract the audience, make them focus on that instead of him inevitably falling on his face.

           “The Triple A Chimera!”

           There was a roar of cheering. The drum beat blasted into a full techno-accompanied crescendo. The subwoofers throbbed. Fortunately, between the stage lighting and the smoke, Alabaster couldn’t see the audience.

           Which let him focus on altering the smoke into the first thing he could think of.

           Alabaster concentrated on the green smoke first, thinking about a massive snake twisting around from the right.

           Axel started to tilt forward.  

           Pax sprang off Axel’s shoulder into a front flip.

           Next, was the gold smoke. A snarling lion. Not something pretty from Rome. Something fierce and merciless.

           Axel tucked forward. Gravity mocked Alabaster as his stability disappeared. He was falling.

           Lastly, the black smoke… a goat? No—no—that would be stupid—

           Alabaster barely made the tuck and roll. Unlike the soft dirt of their outdoor training, the stage floor was unforgiving. Pain trembled along his shoulder as he rolled through the momentum.

           How do you make a goat menacing—how was—

           Then it clicked. Alabaster envisioned a giant ram’s head looming above them, exhaling black fire.

           He successfully rolled back to his feet without any serious injury. When he glanced around, he found Pax had landed nearby and Axel had finished off with a handspring on Alabaster’s other side. When Alabaster stood tall, he felt a ting of pride.

           Through his panic and improvising, the three smoky heads of a chimera framed them from above and either side: the snake wrapped near Pax, the lion by Axel, and the ram above Alabaster’s head.

           The audience had gone silent for a moment of shock.

           Then exploded into louder applause.

           Alabaster couldn’t understand what Jack was saying through the microphone. The redheaded maniac was at the edge of the stage, jabbering and jumping in excitement.

           This, Alabaster sighed in preemptive exhaustion, was going to be a long night.

 Author’s note: Alabaster would be furious if he knew this was his first chapter. (Pax, I see you squirming. Don’t you dare tell him). This short was originally written as a fluff Christmas present for Mel. It has been altered, added to, and come out more mangy and less fluffy at times. I hope you still enjoyed! Tune in for Part II of Alabaster’s Delicate Dance of Chance in two weeks!

 Footnote:

[1] For those Traitor of Olypmus readers, oh…. Oh the irony.

[skepticalcatfrog]

Stay Ahead and Stay Alive Chapter 1

First Chapter Next Chapter

Summary: When Bill Denbrough starts his third summer at Camp Half Blood, everything seems perfect. He's finally getting used to his cabin, he gets to see his friends again, and he's even getting the hang of fighting with a sword. But that perfection is quickly turned on its head when his little brother goes missing. Bill is determined to do whatever it takes to find him, even if that means he and his friends need to go to the Underworld.

Pairings: (Eventual) Reddie, Stenbrough, and Benverly

Word count: 3,254

Author's Notes: New series! This one isn't Sanders Sides, because I've recently gotten very into the It fandom, and I figured I'd try something new. For those of you who are currently reading Among The Stars, don't worry, that will still be continuing. Chapters might just be coming out a little slower than usual. Now, on to the important information! As some of you may have noticed, there's a new category under these notes. That's because this fic will be switching perspectives between the main characters from chapter to chapter. Enjoy!

POV: Bill Denbrough

I held my brother's hand tightly as we ran up Half Blood hill towards the camp boundaries. We weren't running from anything, just wanting to get to camp as fast as possible. I smiled when I saw the pine tree at the top of the hill, using my free hand to point towards it.

"N-not much further!" I glanced at my brother. "Think y-you can m-ma-make it?"

"Yup! You've got nothing to worry about!" Georgie said confidently, speeding up a little bit to prove his point. I just smiled a little wider.

We ran all the way up the hill and stopped only once we were sure we were past the boundaries, sitting down to try and catch our breath. We looked at each other then started laughing, for no reason in particular. I leaned back into the grass to get a better view of the sky. Georgie did the same. Everything was quiet for a moment, aside from the chatter from the other campers in the background. I just watched the clouds pass by. Then something (or someone, rather) blocked my view.

I smiled up at one of my best friends, Stanley Uris. He was the head counselor of the Athena cabin, and had been going to Camp Half Blood the longest out of all of us. Six years as of this summer, nearly twice as long as how many years I've been here. His eyes were a dark silver, like a sky full of storm clouds. He had brown hair, which was almost untamable due to how curly it was. If you got close enough, you'd notice freckles across his cheeks. Not that I'd ever gotten that close. He dressed like that kid in class who got straight A's every year, all button down shirts and khaki shorts. He offered me his hand and when I took it, he helped me stand up again.

"Hey, Bill. When did you get here?" He asked me, letting go of my hand quickly as soon as I was standing.

"Just now." I told him. Georgie stood up and was next to me again. "W-w-what about Richie and Eddie? Have y-you heard anything from th-them yet?"

"I have, yeah. Richie's only been here for four hours and he's already been to the infirmary twice. Eddie's taking care of him." Stan said. He gestured towards the infirmary. "It's nothing serious though, so he should be out again soon."

"Figures." I laughed. "S-s-sometimes it's li-like he does it on p-p-p-purpose."

As if on cue, Richie Tozier sauntered out of the infirmary, followed closely by a clearly frustrated Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie was a Hermes kid, which meant he was prone to getting into trouble. And more often than not, he would end up getting hurt. Then he would go to the infirmary, where he would be patched up and then scolded by Eddie. Eddie was an Apollo kid. He was probably one of the most qualified people in the infirmary, because he knew an unhealthy amount about diseases. He was like a tiny ball of anger and medical supplies. As they got closer to us, I could hear their conversation a little more clearly. But they didn't stop walking, so we just had to walk right alongside them.

"Arts and crafts? Are you kidding me? How do you get hurt in arts and crafts?" Eddie's nose scrunched up as he spoke.

"It's the beads, Eds. Their sharp edges will get you when you least expect it." Richie shrugged.

"The beads?! The beads are round, Richie. They have no sharp edges." Eddie's mouth was running a mile a minute, like a fast-forwarded recording. "The box says three and up. Are you over three? Because last time I checked, you were. But sometimes I can't tell based on how often you do stupid things. First it was the rock wall accident, now this. You do know that we don't have contests at the infirmary, right? You won't get a prize for being our most frequent customer."

"It was an accident!" Richie held his hands up in an 'I surrender' motion. Then he finally noticed me, Georgie and Stanley. "Hey, Stan the Man, answer me a question. Is it possible to cut yourself on a bead?"

"Maybe if it broke in half, then it might have a sharper edge. Otherwise, no, not possible. Especially not by accident." Stan shook his head.

"Aha! I was right." Eddie poked Richie on the shoulder. He suddenly remembered that there were other people there, and turned towards me and Georgie. "Oh, hi, by the way."

"Hey." I waved at him.

"Hi!" Georgie waved even more enthusiastically. He looked up to my friends for some reason, which was probably a mistake. Really the only good role model in our group was Stan.

"Speaking of our good friend Bill, what are your plans for this summer Mr. Son of Aphrodite?" Richie nudged me with his elbow. "Maybe finally asking Beverly out?"

Oh, right. Beverly Marsh. Beverly was the current Oracle of Delphi, plus the girl who I'd had a confusing relationship with since I first got to camp. Everyone thought we liked each other, and I guess it was kind of true, but there wasn't really anything there anymore.

"Since when do you like Beverly?" Stan asked, looking around at everything except for me.

"I-I-It's complicated." I sighed. "Long story sh-short, I'm p-p-probably not going to ask her out."

"Did you know that they kissed two years ago? There weren't many witnesses, but there were a few, so you can ask them if you don't believe me." Richie said, his voice just a little too loud for my liking.

"Oh m-my gods Richie c-c-could you please just be quiet?" I hissed, my charmspeak kicking in near the end. Some children of Aphrodite, including me, can use charmspeak. To put it simply, it's kind of like hypnosis. For example, when I said that, Richie finally decided to shut up.

"Speaking of Beverly…" Stan muttered.

There she was, waving at us from the mess hall. Her curly red hair had grown a bit since she'd cut it near the end of last summer, but her icy blue eyes were still the same. She also had freckles, and when I say freckles I mean a lot of them. She walked up to us, hands in her pockets.

"Hey, guys! I haven't seen you yet, when did you get here?" She asked.

"I've been here the whole time." Stan crossed his arms. He stayed at camp year-round, instead of leaving at the end of the summer like the rest of us. I never really knew why, but he always said it was because he knew he'd be safer there.

"Well obviously I know that, you do that every year. But I haven't seen any of them yet." Beverly gestured to the rest of us. "What have you guys been up to?"

"Me and Billie just got here. We ran from the car all the way up the hill, and it was so fun!" Georgie told her, practically jumping up and down from excitement. A small smile grew on my face and I nodded, confirming the story.

"Richie got here a few hours ago, but he's been too busy in the infirmary to do anything." Eddie scowled "He's already been there twice in the four hours he's been here, and I've had to take care of him. I thought that maybe this year he wouldn't get hurt as much, but I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. Like seriously, how hard is it to just-"

"That's nice, Eddie." Beverly cut him off. The rest of us let out a sigh of relief, because we knew that if she hadn't done that, then Eddie could've gone on for hours. "I've got to get going, but hopefully I'll see you guys later!"

"Y-yeah, hopefully!" I waved as she walked away. Richie started clapping quietly.

"Bravo, encore!" He teased. "You're a true poet Bill, you really do have a way with words."

"Leave him alone, Rich. At least he tried." Stan's sharp gray eyes glared at Richie.

"Yeah, a-at least I t-tri-tried." I echoed. Sometimes I just didn't know what to say, but for some reason Stanley always seemed to be able to think of something. "Georgie and I still need to g-get settled in, so we'll b-b-be in our cabin if you n-need us."

"Okay. I actually have to go too, they'll probably need counselors to deal with new campers." Stan nodded.

"I'll go too then." Richie went to follow Stan.

"Richie, you're not a counselor. The whole camp would be in flames if you were a counselor. You can go with Eddie, I'm sure you'll be able to find something to do." Stan pointed to our blond friend, who was indignant.

"Nope, no, not a chance. I have important things that I need to do, and I don't need Richie to be there while I do them." Eddie protested.

"Too bad then, I guess." Richie wrapped his arm around Eddie's shoulders, which Eddie immediately pushed away. "Looks like we're stuck with each other, Eddie Spaghetti."

"Fine. But I really do have work to do, so don't be distracting." Eddie turned around and started walking away, Richie following him.

"Alright, well, just find me if you need anything. If we don't get a chance to talk then I'll see you tomorrow." Stan waved and went back to his cabin. Georgie and I went to ours as well.

The Aphrodite cabin was definitely intense, if you were looking for a way to describe it. The first thing you'd notice would be the smell of things like perfume, hairspray, and nail polish. It would hit you like a brick wall the second you walked through the door. Posters of various celebrities were all over the pink walls, and a circular rug sat in the center of the room. There was a row of beds on one wall, and another one on the opposite side of the room. Everything was very neat and orderly, except for a few stray love letters. They came to the Aphrodite cabin regularly, since most of my half siblings were the subjects of many crushes at camp. Multiple small chandeliers hung from the ceiling, being the only light source aside from the windows. Overall, it was never boring in cabin 10. There was always some sort of activity, and no matter what it was, it always caused excitement.

My brother and I put our bags down on our respective beds, and unpacked all of our stuff. Some other campers had gotten there earlier than we had, and were already settled in. By the time we had all of our stuff put away, we had to go to the mess hall for dinner. The tables were sorted by cabin, so I didn't get to sit next to any of my friends. The table for the Hermes cabin was always more crowded than anywhere else, because it held all the children of Hermes, as well as kids who didn't know who their godly parent was yet. I remember staying there for a while at the beginning of my first year at Camp Half Blood. It was where I'd met Richie. After dinner, we all sat around the campfire for a little while. We sang songs, talked, and told jokes until it was completely dark out. Georgie looked like he was about to fall asleep where he sat by the end of it. I couldn't blame him, the first day of camp was always tiring. We walked back to our cabin and got ready for bed.

It felt like forever before I started to fall asleep. I was tired, but for some reason I just couldn't sleep. I got there eventually, but then I was woken up by a tapping on my face. I opened my eyes, and what I saw was Georgie sitting next to my bed and tapping me on the forehead.

"Georgie, w-what are you s-s-still doing up?" I whispered. I didn't want to disturb anyone else.

"I'm not tired. I slept for a little while, but then I woke up, and now I'm not tired anymore." Georgie explained quietly, a small pout on his face.

"Well what do y-you want me to d-d-do about i-it?" I asked.

"Let's go on an adventure!" Even with the whispering, the excitement in his voice was clear.

"Georgie, you know we're n-not supposed to be out thi-this late." I shook my head.

"Since when do you care about the rules?" He asked. I couldn't deny that he was right, I'd snuck out even later than that many times. I hesitated.

"Fine." I reluctantly got out of bed. My brother grinned.

"Yes! I knew you'd do it!" He stood up.

I quickly got dressed and grabbed a flashlight from my bag. I looked out the window. The magical barrier around the camp kept bad weather out, but I could tell it was raining outside the border.

"Get your j-j-jacket." I told Georgie. We usually ended up wandering outside the boundaries of camp anyway, so I figured wearing our jackets would be a safe choice. "It c-could be cold in the ra-ain."

"Okay." He nodded, getting his raincoat.

We left once I had my jacket on. I put the hood up, because since it was a dark color, I would be less visible. Plus it would protect my head when we were in the rain. I didn't turn my flashlight on yet, either. I knew we were outside the barrier when I heard the pattering of the raindrops hitting the hood of my jacket. I flipped the switch on my flashlight and saw the beam of light spring forward, illuminating a path ahead of us.

"Well, we're h-here. What now?" I asked, glancing at my brother. He looked around and thought for a moment.

"Let's go… that way." He pointed towards a forest that had a dirt road cutting through the middle. He immediately started walking, and I had to walk a little faster just to keep up with him.

I slowly started to lose my nervousness about being in the woods that late. We weren't even supposed to be out of our cabins at night, let alone out of the camp completely. It was like a free meal for monsters. But I'd left camp so many times before that I barely thought about it.

"At least the t-tr-trees block most of the r-rain." I held out my hand and only felt a couple of raindrops hit it.

"But there are still puddles on the ground!" Georgie stepped in one of the puddles, then frowned and looked down at his feet. He didn't have rain boots on, only sneakers. "Oh… now my feet are all wet."

"D-d-do you want to g-go back to camp?" I reached out and took his hand. He had a tendency to run off when he saw something interesting, and I just didn't want to lose him.

"No, I'm fine." He shook his head, starting to walk again as if nothing had happened. "They'll get dry again in a little while."

"Okay, if you're sh-sure." I nodded.

Suddenly, a steep hill stood right in our path. It was so tall that we couldn't see what was on the other side. I let go of my brother's hand.

"I'm just going to ch-check and see i-i-if it's safe on the other s-side." I looked at Georgie, and my charmspeak kicked in. I knew he probably would've done whatever I said anyway, but I wasn't going to take any chances. "I n-need you to stay right here until I get back, okay?"

"Okay." He nodded. I started to walk away, and he stood completely still as I did.

I climbed up the side of the hill. It was steep, and the grass was slick with rain, so I had to hold on to trees to stop myself from slipping. It was even more difficult to climb down the other side. I didn't fall, but I did slide about half the way down. Once I regained my footing, I looked around for a moment. All that was on the other side of the hill was more forest, there didn't seem to be anything too bad. I was about to turn around and climb back up the hill… and that's when I heard it.

"BILLIE!" My brother cried out from the other side of the hill.

My eyes widened and I could feel my heart beating. I turned around and started running, but I didn't get very far up the hill before I fell forward and slid down again. I got back up and tried again, now covered in mud. I used the trees to brace myself as I dashed up the hill as fast as I could. I slipped again when I got to the top, and sliding down the other side felt almost like falling into Tartarus. At the bottom of the hill, I was met with my worst fear. A puddle of water, stained red. My brother was nowhere to be found.

My hand started to shake, and my grip tightened on the flashlight I was holding. I started to run, as fast as I could, back the way we'd come from. I didn't stop to think, I didn't stop to collect myself, I just ran. My hood flew off of my head, but I didn't care. When the camp was in my sights I sped up. The second I was past the border I stopped, looking around frantically. No one would be awake, I wasn't even supposed to be awake, so who could I go to? I could only think of one person who might be able to help me.

I opened the door to the Athena cabin as quietly as I could in my panicked state. When I saw Stanley, I knelt down next to his bed and put my hand on his shoulder. He was completely asleep. I shook him a little bit.

"Stan? Stanley?" I tried to be quiet, but it wasn't easy. "Stanley Uris I s-swear, if you don't w-wake up right n-n-now-"

"I know, you can't sleep, but that doesn't mean you have to-" Stanley muttered. He opened his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy from drowsiness. When he saw me, he seemed to wake up a little more. "Bill? Why are you here, you're supposed to be asleep. And why are you covered in mud?"

"I'll explain l-later, right now I just n-n-need your help." I told him, wiping the tears from my face.

"What's wrong, what happened?" Stan sat up, suddenly becoming much more alert.

"I-I-It's Georgie, he's m-m-m-m-m-" I could barely get the word out. Because saying it made it real, and I knew it couldn't be real.

"It's okay, just breathe." Stan was about to take my hand, but he hesitated, and decided against it. "Everything's going to be okay. Now, do you think you can tell me what happened?"

"Georgie… is m-missing. We w-were out in the w-w-woods, and I l-l-left him alone, and now..." I burst into tears, burying my face in my hands. "Shit, I left him a-a-alone!"

Stan seemed surprised at my sudden outburst. "Are you sure? Are you sure it wasn't just a bad dream?"

"Y-y-yes, of course I'm sure!" I looked up again and met his eyes. "And I n-need you to help me f-find him."

[ginnyzero]

The South Dakota Setting (my books)

Like I said, bikers are quintessentially American. I’ve been fortunate enough that I’ve seen quite a bit of America, even if it was just traveling through it by car or train from one place to another. I’ve lived on both Coasts, went to college in the middle of America for a time and haven’t always taken a plane to get from one side to the other.

America is huge and it’s extremely varied. The Rockies, the Catskills and the Appalachians may all be mountain ranges in America, but they are so different from each other. I grew up in upstate New York in the Fingerlakes Area. It’s a beautiful place. It’s very green. Our hills are covered with trees so the further away they are the bluer they look. A lake to me isn’t this tiny thing. A lake is miles long and you have to go up to a top of the hill to look across it.

There were a couple places that I’ve visited with my family and where I’ve lived that really stood out to me. One of my favorite places in the United States is the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, the area bordering Lake Superior. It’s a beautiful, slightly hilly landscape that is covered in pine tree forests. The lake is huge and blue and has its own tidal system. I remember going across Mackinaw Bridge and being amazed that I could look down and see the lake floor where the lakes met and how intense the colors were. If I was to have a summer home, that’s where it would be. A lake house where I could hunt for blue agates on the beach.

I’ve talked about how I’ve went to college at the Academy of Art in San Francisco. And I know I have rose colored glasses about San Francisco because I can google earth/map it and it doesn’t look the same as it did when I lived there. What I loved about San Francisco though was the architecture, whether it was the early twentieth century buildings put up after the earthquake of 1906 or the gothic cathedral or the French art noveau inspired buildings on Market Street or even the buildings of Japan town. The weather was decent though I’ve grown to like my weather warmer than San Francisco can give me. The shopping was great even if I mostly window shopped while I was there, poor student after all. There were art galleries and open area parks. San Francisco had atmosphere when the fog rolled in at night. It also always felt extremely safe in most neighborhoods. I could walk around late and not be bothered because half the working population left over one of the two bridges each evening. The best thing about San Francisco though was the way it felt like a town and not a city. I could walk everywhere. To the grocery. To the movie theatre. To class. To my friend’s. To my favorite pizzeria on Bush and Powell. To the sushi place. To the Korean hibachi bbq. OMG, THE FOOD. Very rarely did I take a bus and when I did, Muni was an amazing bus system. I sincerely miss it when I’m waiting every half hour for a bus here in Daytona. (Unfortunately, I haven’t yet figured out a PLOT to set IN San Francisco. It’s very frustrating given how much I love this city.)

The summer after my senior year of high school and before I went to college, my family had a big out west trip planned. I’d already gone to NYC with my class for our senior trip and visited my Uncle in Texas to meet my newest cousin with my mother and grandmother. But this big out west trip was to meet some relations in South Dakota and hopefully make it to Yellowstone, before I went to Ohio. (We didn’t make it to Yellowstone.) Most of the trip out there was through the Midwest, and the Midwest is one thing, flat. And it became this sort of game to count what the fields were growing, corn, alfalfa, sunflowers, and more corn. There were bands of trees between the fields but honestly, there wasn’t much of interest.

We stopped in Mitchell, South Dakota to see the Corn Palace. It was a tribute to Elvis year. The Corn Palace is just one of those things you either know about it or you don’t and you either get it or you don’t. After the Corn Palace we went through the Badlands on our way to Wall and promptly the camper overheated and broke down. South Dakota is mostly prairie and along the highway there were ranches where they kept bison and donkeys and ostriches. In one of the national parks, the bison were allowed to roam free. And people do keep bison in New York (which is crazy to me but yes, it was once part of their natural habitat) but this was different. There weren’t any fences to protect you. Fortunately, bison are mostly placid animals.

Once we got to Wall, we stopped in Wall Drug and it was this huge indoor strip mall basically. Buffalo burgers turned out to be a bit dry. But then we were finally on our way to the Black Hills. It was the evening as we were driving down the highway through the last of the prairie and there was storm rolling in and lightning looked like it walked across the grasslands. We got closer to the hills, the white spruce really did make them look black and then the tops were pure white rock and bare of trees.

It was actually around Sturgis Bike Week when we went. So, once we got out of Rapid City and went into the Black Hills themselves, there were motorcycles everywhere. The roads in and out of these towns twisted about between the hills. The forest grows right up to the roads. It really felt like a place where something magical could happen. There is still evidence of some gold mining going on as well. We did some tourist things, Deadwood, Mount Rushmore and across the state border to Devil’s Tower. There is a lot of history in the Black Hills of the old west between it being a drop off point to sell cattle, gold mining, trains and Wild Bill Hickok. There are ghosts in the Black Hills.

What I didn’t know at the time is how important Sturgis was to Bikers, because I was much more interested in the cowboys and the gold mining and the Native Americans. Sturgis is the biggest bike week in America. (Daytona being the second biggest.) And it’s a mandatory event for a lot of biker clubs. They often induct new members and have special events that go on at Sturgis. To me, there were just a huge amount of bikers in the Black Hills which were holding up traffic and annoying my father.

Once I found out about how important Sturgis and the Black Hills were to the biker community, out of all the places I had seen and loved about America, the Black Hills were the obvious choice to make the setting for my novel. In some ways, bikers can be like the new cowboys of the modern era. Rugged individualists riding iron horses. (I am not saying it is a one for one comparison.) The Black Hills just felt appropriate.

With just these three core building blocks, there is a lot for me to explore and think about in my universe. I try not to get overwhelmed by it and approach it one bit at a time. It’s a journey and the road may be long, twisty and the engine noisy. And that’s the best way to be.

[lindoig4]

Across Canada

I will try to post a little more text today, but the internet service here is pretty poor so I will leave posting of any more photos until we get home.  We leave the US this evening and arrive back in Melbourne before dawn on Wednesday, having missed an entire day along the way.

We took a cab to Union Station to catch the VIA Rail across the country.  We have usually paid cab fares by card, but Heather used cash this time.  The cabbie gave her a few coins as change and when Heather said that there should have been some notes, he said he was keeping that as his tip - about 50% of the fare.  Heather argued, but he bullied her and insisted that he was keeping it.  Had I been closer instead of getting our bags out of the boot, he may not have been so demanding, but it left a sour taste in our mouths as it was.

The train is by no means luxurious, obviously oldish, but it is quite functional and we are comfy enough in our little cabin.  One good thing is that the bunks are bigger and much more comfortable than on the ship or the other trains we have used.  We have both slept well.

On the other hand, there is no WiFi at all, only an occasional phone signal and although there are 110-volt power outlets, they won’t charge my PC - so once again, the technology has failed us.  Maybe I am naive, but we are now in the 21st century and I reckon basic power and signal issues should have been sorted out years ago.  As it is, the battery in my PC is flat and there is no way I can use it until we reach Vancouver at best.  That means I can’t look at my photos or do much with my blog other than draft bits on my iPad.

Canada is exquisitely beautiful.  It is an absolute picture postcard, full to bursting with trees and lakes.  The overwhelming colour is green, with literally billions of tall skinny pointy trees.  Actually, they are not that tall. We have seen very few trees more than 8-10 metres tall, but there are zillions of them, mostly densely packed with both understory and overstory.  In some places, it is a bit more open, but still usually gloomy and mysterious, inviting us to explore - if only we were out there in the bush.  Aspen, larch, spruce, alder, birch, pines and firs, conifers of every description, millions of stark white trunks, black trunks, all sorts, drowning in a thousand shades of green, leaves shimmering in the breeze, gleaming in the sun, with just a smattering of autumn tones starting to appear here and there.

Then there are the thousands of lakes.  We must have traversed 1000 kilometres of marshy land with water shimmering through the low vegetation as far as we could see.  But there are thousands of open lakes as well, from just a hectare or two to those speeding past the train for kilometre after kilometre.  Did I say picture postcard?  We have seen them all. The little ones that look like they came out of a cutesy 50s or 60s movie, with the summer camp atmosphere - a few canoes tied up to a little landing, a pontoon and shallow diving board, a short rowing course, maybe a pathetic little waterski-jump and a collection of quaint little huts that are probably family holiday shacks.  Then there are the more remote ones, some with a tiny island or two with just 2 or 3 perfectly conical fir trees on them and a kayak tied up to a partly-submerged drowning landing that defies imagination about how one might access it - not even a hiking track, much less a road, in sight.  Then we have the larger ones with a couple of small tinnies out there, each with a fisherman or two, sound asleep with their rods dangling limp over the side, or perhaps the ten deserted sheds, some literally falling down, and only a tiny Cessna anchored to the shore to suggest that anyone might occasionally visit them.  We are not talking upscale Hillbilly country.  This is magically picturesque country that should warrant criminal charges if anyone but us invades it.  Add your own superlatives, but for me, I have run out.  Simply stupendously glorious!

Later.  We have just crossed the border from massive Ontario into Manitoba - after more than 20 hours heading west.  Slowly, the trees and lakes seem to be getting slightly larger, the terrain is a little more open, the trees a little lighter green and the wildflowers more profuse and colourful - mainly white, yellow and mauve/purple.

For the entire trip, there has been a line of telegraph posts and cables beside the train: around 20 cables, but obviously long defunct.  Thousands of the posts have simply sunk into the boggy earth or fallen over or submerged into the lakes, and many of the cables are broken or hanging limp and tangled.  I am amazed that nobody has attempted to salvage the hundreds of thousands of dollars of copper out there.

As we went west, it became a little hillier and we even went through a couple of short tunnels.  We also went through many cuttings where the rock had been blasted away for the track.  There was a lot of red in the rocks and it is likely that some sort of algae was growing on it to make it that colour.

It was getting dark when we rolled into Winnipeg, but we had an hour and a bit stopover, so we went into the station and used the WiFi to download our email - alas, mostly more bills to pay!  I had prepared a few emails to send, but they were all on my PC and inaccessible due to the flat battery!

It was a very rocky night, but we were up early for showers.  I raised the blind just a centimetre or two in our cabin and could see everything there was to see.  The landscape was entirely in landscape.  Flat, flat, flat - all the way to the horizon. Everything looked manicured as if the farmers had risen early and swept or ironed their paddocks to welcome us.  A bit later, we saw patches of forest and lots of neat (or sometimes sprawling) farmhouses, often with 2 or 3 little cottages and a barn or two, and mostly at least a field-bin or ten (or 30) and a tractor parked nearby.  Many farms also have a machinery graveyard, usually at a distance from the house, with rows of rusty tractors, trucks, cars, pick-ups, ploughs, harvesters, caravans, campers and who knows what, all lined up in their final resting places, slowly sinking into the landscape.  The houses all have pitched rooves, presumably to avoid too much snow collecting on them in the winter.

The paddocks are mainly cropped with wheat, barley, oats and canola, but there is also a lot of uncropped land, mostly looking too boggy to crop.  Quite a bit of the uncropped land is still productive though, with miles of road and rail verges being harvested and baled for silage.  It is obviously harvest time over here with quite a lot of crop already cut, but with plenty more still to go.  We haven’t seen much actually being harvested, but plenty of hay bales in neatly shorn paddocks.  There are a few cattle but no big herds.  Also a few horses, half a dozen goats, a donkey, a young deer standing beside the track staring at me - and at least one fox scampering across the prairie with four magpies harassing it.  It was nearly two days later before we saw any sheep: about 20 near one house and 3 at another – then none through to Vancouver.

There have been a few shallow lakes, mainly fairly small and at last, a few birds.  We crossed one wide river, very shallow with flat mud islands and hundreds of birds: all gulls and Canada Geese as far as I could see.  It is very frustrating not having any internet because I can’t identify the birds conclusively without my favourite Merlin app, but I am taking photos and making notes and hope I will be able to tie some of them down later.  It is even more frustrating that Heather can sit there posting to Facebook and her blog almost any time when the SIM we purchased for me doesn’t work in either my phone or my iPad!

There were a few places along the rivers and nearby lakes where I suspect beavers were at work.  A couple of creeks appeared to be dammed and there was an area near one suspected lodge where a whole lot of smallish trees had been felled – all with pencil-sharpener bases.  And I saw a few flat conical structures a metre or so above the water level – again with a collection of pick-up-sticks pencil-ended logs embedded in the structure.  I could be just imagining it, but the indications seemed to be there that beavers could have created the dams and underwater pyramids.

It is strange that we rocketed through the night, speeding along much faster than anywhere to date, making for a very bumpy ride - then arriving in Saskatoon where they said we were way ahead of our timetable so there would be a two hour stopover to get back on schedule.  Go figure!  The track we are on is apparently owned by a freight company and freight trains always have priority.  This means that we frequently need to stop at sidings or on branch lines, often for half an hour or more until a freight train passes.  The freight trains are massive, up to about 3 kilometres long and mostly double-deckers that roar along carrying hundreds of thousands of tonnes of cargo across the country day and night.  They are not as bad as in Russia where a few kilometres of freight barrelled past us every time I raised my camera for a shot, but there must still be at least several dozen here each day.

Next time we woke up, we were in Saskatchewan and the terrain slowly became more varied, with lumpy low hills, uneven ground, more diverse vegetation, taller trees and in due course, we had an hour or so stopover in Edmonton and next morning we rolled into Jasper in the Canadian Rockies.  Our Edmonton stop was marked by the start of a dramatic electrical storm. It was really ferocious with lightning flashing brilliantly around us every few seconds.  We went to dinner as it was getting dark and the lightning outside the dining car was tremendous.  We were soon locked up, cosy in bed, but several other passengers said the electrical storm was amazing and followed us for hours.

[chrysaliseuro2019]

Lost and Found

The checkout time at our Caorle hotel was not user friendly for us being 9.30. Earliest we have experienced on this trip possibly ever. Breakfast went till 10.00 am so we agreed with the landlady that we could effectively check out and then have breakfast after that which gave us an extra half hour or so's sleep. We duly did that and they then kindly also said we could leave our car in their free parking area for a couple of hours while we had a look around town. I was intent on getting a haircut and so Liz and I headed in different directions. Last I saw of her she was disappearing down through a sea of umbrellas to the beach which was pretty wide. Both Liz and I during our stroll around town visited the cathedral of St Stephen which was in the simpler style but very attractive. It also had the "striking" bell tower Liz has discussed complete with lean which provided quite a beacon around town. I drew a blank frustratingly on the haircut. With pre bookings or extensive waits. Finally found the sort of barber I was looking for (no shampoo required, just sit in the chair and I cut your hair) around 11.30 but was closing at 12.00 and already a guy in the chair so he basically told me to get nicked. Time to leave town. Liz had done a bit of research and the next stop for us was further South to Montecosaro near Ancona. Slightly inland. A four and a quarter hour drive via toll road so quite a distance and five for us with stops (and slow driver). The drive as ever picturesque. You could be forgiven for thinking you are in Tuscany in this part of the world. Especially closer to Montecosaro. Hills and very arable land with vines, olives, peaches and other crops which tend to make the land look very verdant. Also dotted with quite attractive farmhouses. We had one slightly daunting period during the drive. Sky got very dark with the odd lightning flash and eventually the heavens opened in biblical proportions. Even the nutcase 150 km drivers on the freeway slowed down to just below 100. Most of us were crawling along at around 40kms/hour with wipers on double fast and still failing the task. Some drivers had pulled over under bridges. Finally it just felt too uncomfortable. A camper van with emergency lights flashing had pulled over on the emergency lane and we pulled up in front of him and stopped to let the storm pass. 5/10 mins later it eased enough to feel OK to drive and we headed off. Had one more stint of heavy rain but not quite as bad so kept going. It had been pretty scary though and not at all the weather we were expecting in this part of the world at this time of year. En route Liz had booked the La Luma hotel in Montecosaro. We got to town in the late afternoon and though it was not large it was a warren of narrow stone streets and google maps struggled a bit to get us to our destination. We got close and I parked up while Liz went off and investigated. The guy at the hotel was friendly and talkative. In fact he wanted to run through a description of the whole town though Liz was trying to get back to the car (which was just around the corner to guide me in). After perhaps 20 mins she got back advised all was good and we parked up for free around the back and were in. The guy at the hotel explained the various restaurant offerings to us. Apparently there were four in town. Two informal pizza joints, an Osteria (restaurant which does most types of local food) and a vegetarian restaurant which he obviously favoured. We showered and headed out in search of the restaurants and a drink after a lengthy journey. Liz and I split up. The town really was tranquil and lovely with the usual stone streets and buildings and perched on the top of a hill. They obviously performed concerts there as we could see chairs set up outside a building though nothing this night it seemed. Weather was overcast and looking like it wanted to rain though warm enough. Liz found a very informal pizza bar at the top of town. I found the local bar (funny that) in the city square. I also asked various people for directions to the Osteria. Not much English spoken in this town so hand signals had to suffice (though they proved ambiguous) Liz and I met up and she followed one route and me another in search of the elusive Osteria. Hard to believe that in this tiny mousetrap of town we could not find it easily. Anyway, Liz had success though at first stumbled on a family sitting at some decrepit wooden tables outside a house. She thought that was the sum of the restaurant a few dodgy old tables and was losing heart. Turned out these were the staff of the restaurant probably having an early dinner. The restaurant was totally inside and well kitted out. I joined her and we booked a table for dinner at 8.15. Now 7.15 and not a soul in there so booking seemed unnecessary. Retreated to the bar for a drink and were soon driven inside as the wind got up and things got cooler. Good atmosphere as progressively more people came in to avoid the weather and the place was lively. Headed for dinner and were soon glad that we had booked the place as after a while it was full and also pretty atmospheric. Old style restaurant in terms of decor but young and vibrant owner. Not that much English spoken though the waitress had a handy smattering and we ordered gnocchi (Liz) and meatballs (me). Both excellent and way better than your average. Meatballs indescribable really. They were more a pasta stuffed with meat. We had a very enjoyable evening. We were pretty pleased all round. Town was quiet and lovely and a change of pace from some of the places we had been visiting. Hotel room was spacious with a good bathroom and with probably the best view we had had all holiday. Again a very Tuscan look over the valley below. That night a pretty heavy duty thunderstorm took place in the middle of the night. We were very pleased that we were not on that ferry as that would have been the night we caught it. The ferry would have docked at Ancona so we were about even-steven on how far down Italy we had progressed vs catching the ferry but we were very happy with our choice. The thought of being on the boat in that sort of weather gave us the heeby jeebies. Next morning a good breakfast though I did have omelette which was a tad bland. Just eggs no additives. Also the biggest pepper grinder I've ever used. We seemed to be the only English speakers so a bit of sign language required. We packed up and to avoid lugging bags down to the back entrance of the hotel where the car was parked I headed off to drive it around to the front entrance , where Liz was waiting, which was v close to our room. Well, 15 mins of driving around and two circumnavigations of town later I just could not locate the narrow little street which led from the top of town past our hotel door. Town was a small maze of one way streets, resident only streets and cul de sacs, and I was getting to know them all. At one point I got stuck behind one of those three wheeler market motorised trike things. Grandad was driving at around 10 kms an hour and I couldn't get past. After about 10 mins I received a call from Liz who was waiting with the bags for my arrival. This was not of the Mills and Boon "where are you my darling" variety. More Tarantino with expletives not deleted. I assured her that all would be well in my calmest voice but with no certainty that I would ever find her again. I was destined to spend the rest of my days driving around Montecosaro. I finally gave up searching for the elusive street and parked up where I had the day before with the hotel about 40 metres away. Went to find Liz and then backed up into the street so now right outside the hotel. Phew! I was glad that was over and Liz gave me a combo of the exasperated (you had one job and stuffed it up) and thank goodness you've finally arrived look. I averted my eyes. As it turned out it was not quite all over. We stacked the suitcases in the boot with our backpacks. A job that we are now practised at but which, with the small boot of the Fiat Punto hatchback, requires a certain technique to ensure that the boot will shut given its pretty full. Just when I thought my stocks could not get any lower a problem arose. We sat in the car ready to drive off and I could not find the keys. Where the flip were they. I knew I had them 1 minute earlier. The boot of the Punto has a dent in it from a misdemeanour by a previous renter. This meant that it could only be opened with the auto unlock for the boot on the keyring and I had just opened it a couple of mins earlier, though it was now shut. So where had it gone? We feared that I had locked it in the boot when packing the backpacks in. The problem now was the boot would not open without the key and the car obviously would not start without it either. We were also blocking the narrow laneway in front of the hotel and any residents coming down would want us to move. This was not really possible as the car now faced an incline so could not even be rolled out of the way. Ahhh! Liz kept a stoic and non judgemental demeanour in the face of this new scenario. I was sensing recriminations. It was very hard to get to the boot, even from inside the car as there was a cover to the hatchback area and even when we removed that, the cases were in the way so if the key was in the boot it would take a herculean effort to lift the cases and find it. We scrabbled around for several minutes with our hands squeezed into narrow gaps in the boot between the cases searching for the keys when I looked down and there they were beside the driver's seat inside the car. They had fallen out of my pocket. Relief all round. Of course the combo of the lost street out and the lost and found keys had cost us about half an hour. Thankfully no residents came down the street in their cars while we went through this farce. Still, alls well that ends well. We chortled. I was forgiven. We headed off for Vieste.

[kizakuza-blog1]

DKs Van Life Take 1: The test

Last year, two weeks before Drew, my partner, and I were ready to set off on our first official overseas trip together, I was admitted to hospital for a week and then told I couldn’t fly.

That feeling of being trapped set in about a month later, when my condition was being managed and I realised I had been told I couldn’t do the one thing I live for – exploring the world.

So what does one do when they are grounded from flying? Camper Van it!! Drew was in love with the idea instantly and we started planning. Wondering whether  buy a van straight up or should we hire first? We decided to do a test trip before we buy and here we are.

The Test. 10 Days going South of Sydney heading to the Great Ocean Road and back through the Barossa Valley. 3,548kms will be travelled in total.

Our hot tips for a van life. Season vanlifers, I’m sure already know these, though for any newbies out there we highly recommend making note:

1.       Baby wipe baths. When you have no idea where you’ll be setting up camp or where the next shower is, baby wipe baths is one way to stay fresh.

2.       Head torches. Even when you have light in the van, it’s never quite enough. When you’re parked in a remote area or if you want to go for some night exploring. These babies are your best friends.

3.       Bucket Toilet. Now when this was first suggested to me I was like, umm really!! But ladies I assure you, in the middle of the night when you’ve parked your van in the most beautiful spot you can find, but there are no facilities, the bucket toilet is your saviour. Whether you make your own or do what we did and invest in one from your local camping store. I promise you’ll be most grateful you did.

Day 1: Heading to our first stay. We chose Tumut, a cute little place with a free camp site, nestled between the mountains and a trout filled river. It was a little in-land as day two takes us to the Milawa Cheese Company before heading down to the Mornington Peninsular. 

Here we are, head touches on, setting up the van for the first time. It’s about 8pm, the roof is popped and I start transferring our things up in the top storage section in preparation to make up the bed. Drew starts prepping to cook up a storm on our little Webber......Then it hit me..….we forgot the doona/quilt/duvet!! Basically we had sheets and a blanket to keep us warm on our first night….Snuggle time!!

For anyone vanning down the east coast of OZ looking for a free camp site. No facilities, however plenty of wood to make a little camp fire, simply put ‘The Tumut Wetlands’ into your GPS. It’ll take you approx. 4hrs 25 mins South of Sydney.

Day 2: After a chilli night, we wake up to a crisp morning and the sounds of the running river. We pack up and head into town for a coffee and to buy a doona. Next stop The Milawa Cheese Company, approx. 3hrs away. We highly recommend stopping in and tasting their cheese. They do sampling between 9am and 4pm and I promise, you won’t be disappointed. Our Favourite, the King River Gold.

From there we start our hardcore drive to Barwon Heads to meet up for a few drinks with. Just over 6hrs drive away.

We had planned to get an unpowered site at the caravan park situated right on the water, but we arrived to late, they were already closed. Good news though, there is a long car park that runs behind it, better view and another score for a free place to set up. As an added bonus it’s a 2 minute stroll to the local pub.

If you’re heading down that way the street name is Ewing Blyth Drive, Barwon Heads.

Day 3: Bells Beach Australia!! Even if you’re not a surfer, everyone has seen the movie and knows about the Classic Bells Beach and the 50 year storm – even though the movie wasn’t filmed at the real Bells Beach, it’s still a destination to visit. Just a short 8 minute drive out of Torquay’s town center. 

This beautiful beach hosts the Rip Curl Pro surf comp every Easter bringing professional surfers from all over the world. Unfortunately, it’s not a Van friendly town, so you need to be strategic when selecting where you set up for the night. There are many breath-taking places, you’ll be right.

Day 4: We consider this our real first day on our little trip, as neither of us have been past this point. We decided to have no real plan, to just take each moment as it comes. For me who is a massive planner, this was the first time ever I was just going with it. And I am loving every minute.

Drew is a massive coffee drinker, can’t start his day without one and recommends popping into the Great Ocean Road Chocolaterie & Ice Creamery before heading on to your next destination. 

Heading down the Great Ocean Road we were both craving a hot shower. Baby wipe baths are great and all, however as we all know, nothing beats a nice hot shower. If you’re driving through Lorne Victoria. Lorne Sea Baths. $10.50 entry, if you have some extra time you can have fun in their pool, relax in the spa and steam room. Although if you’re like us and just in need of a hot shower, this is the place to stop.

Although Lorne provided a great spot to stop for a shower, we decided to move on to Apollo Bay.

The road to Apollo Bay is striking. Winding up and down on the side of the high cliffs, before making your way down to the humble little town on the other side. 

Another town that isn’t camper van friendly, however we were lucky to get a hot tip from a local that told us about a little spot, right next to the beach, where we could set up for the night. And we’re going to share the secret... As you’re driving into the town, with Lorne behind you, take the first left into a little tree covered car park, just before the Big4 Caravan park up on the right.

We love Apollo Bay, it reminds us of the North Shore in Hawaii with stunning mountains on one side and the ocean on the other, the perfect balance of earth and water living side by side.

Day 5: There are many sites to see around Apollo Bay. If you’re into Hiking and seeing the ancient trees and waterfalls, make sure you give yourself time to explore. We took a little 30 minute forest walk through Maits Rest, getting a shameless tourist picture in the famous tree belly, before heading off down the Great Ocean Road to see the remaining 12 Apostles.

It’s wondrous how some eroded rocks being shaped by the battering sea, can attract so many people to see them. As we turn into the first look out, at Castle Cove, we are marvelled, just as the others before us. Mesmerised, watching the sea crash into the bottom of the rocks we start to understand why these awe-inspiring natural structures draw such big crowds every day.

Stopping at every look out to take photos we finished the day at the little community town Port Campbell. We are delighted to hear they had a bush style camping ground for both powered and unpowered sites. Full outside kitchen and hot showers. Unpowered sites are only $10pp. Powered sites $20pp with all proceeds going towards the community. You can also hire fire barrels for $20 deposit and $25 for a bag of wood. Just punch in Port Campbell Recreation Reserve into your GPS. It’s close to town so if you want to eat out, it’s just a 5 minute, easy walk in. After you’ve showered and picked your camp spot for the night. 

Don’t forget your head torches. Although the sky is filled with stars, it’s a dark walk back.

Day 6: As we make our way to the Coonawarra down the remaining Great Ocean Road, we are breath-taken by the structures on the other side of the 12 Apostles. It’s strange no one talks as much about this side of the Great Ocean Road, we think this spectacular coastline, with more sea battered structures are equally, if not better than the reaming 12 Apostles. We highly recommend stopping at every look out to take a peak and many photos. All except the Grotto, you won’t miss anything if you skip that one.

Another place you can skip is ‘Cheese World’. Don’t get excited. It is the smallest world of cheese we’ve ever come across, and really not worth the stop, unless you’re busting for the bathroom.

We pull into the Coonawarra, the town is actually called Penola, punch this into your GPS, not the Coonawarra wine region. We arrived a few minutes before the information center closed and was please to be told there is another bush style camping ground just up the road. This one was nestled amongst the vineyards. It has tepee style tents and one of those igloo ones. $10pp for unpowered sites. $25pp for powered/glamping sites.

Day 7: To the Barossa, after doing a little wine tasting along the Coonawarra strip. More Drew tasting, but a tiny sip was had by myself and with great delight I discovered my new favorite winery. Penley Estate. They have the most exquisite glasses, which are available for purchase. We bought four. Best impulse stop ever.

We decided to stay at the Murray Bridge, before the Barossa. We had set off later than expected and we were in no rush.

Day 8: The Barossa is about 3 hours from the Coonawarra and there’s not too much along the way. So crank that stereo and sing your way through it.

The town was full of people. There was some festival on, it was crazy. We find a side street to park in and walk through the streets towards the sounds of an auction. They were auctioning weird stuff, like a sacks of potatoes at the bargain price of $50. Anyway!! We made our way to find were we had booked a delightful degustation dinner at Appellation. I was so excited, this would be our first degustation. Drew’s more into the hardy meaty meals so the moment he suggested finding a great place for dinner, I was onto it.

Little did I know, he had a plan. I can’t believe I had no idea.

We found where we were going to set up for the night, close the restaurant. We discovered one of my favorite mid week wines ‘The running with the Bulls’, was made by Yalumba so we headed out to their vineyard to see if we could snap a good cellar door price. Unfortunately, no, the price was pretty much the same as I can get at home. Lets go to lunch and find a hot shower.   We found a hot shower and got ready for our amazing dinner. 

The Restaurant had a bar which overlooked the thousands of grape vines scattered amongst the small hills below.   As we sipped out first drink, Drew noticed they had a life size chess set. He loves a competition and we had some time to kill before our reservation. As the sun started to set Drew says he needs his sunnies and went out to the car. I stood there sipping beautiful wine out of a gorgeous Ridel stemless glass, freezing my ass off. Drew comes make, makes a move and then goes in to get more drinks. By this time I was wondering why he wasn’t concentrating on the game and trying to win. 

He urged me to abandon the game and come for a walk in the vines to watch the sun set. And the next thing I know Drew pulls a ring box from his pocket and is down on one knee.   I said yes.   

Wearing my sparkly new ring I couldn’t stop staring at it as we were seated for dinner. The waitress picked up on it and congratulated us with a glass of Champagne. We choose the 4 course degustation menu and were delighted to know that you don’t have to have all four sections. This was perfect for us as we don’t eat dessert. So we worked out how we could try most of the menu in the four courses.   The flavour combinations and presentation was spectacular and the absolute perfect place to celebrate our engagement.   

Day 9: The trek back home begins. There’s not a lot to see today. There’s a whole lot of nothing over the dry plains except for sheep, the odd emu and kangaroo. After 7 hrs of solid driving, we decided to stay at another bush style camp ground at Hay. $10pp, nice hot showers and our last dinner in the van.   

Day 10: It’s time to hand Johnno back. Up bright and early to detail him then back to Sydney we go. We had stopped into Robertson to have dinner with Drew’s mom and celebrate our engagement with his sister and cute little niece and nephew. What an amazing journey. The test score was in…..we will be buying a van.    

Thanks for coming on the ride with us on our first van life adventure. Follow our other travel adventures @kizakuza on Instagram.

[willandlyra]

so come with me, i’ll buy you a raincoat

in which nico meets naomi solace

word count: 1619

read on ao3

::

Nico is afraid.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Will says. “They’re gonna love you.”

“Not necessarily,” Nico argues.

A lot of people at camp like him now. It started out with the Apollo cabin inviting him to sit with them and then morphed into people asking him for duelling tips. He did a couple of shifts at the infirmary where he helped Will with various things, passing around medical tools and giving lollipops to the younger campers.

It’s a gradual thing, changing pre-existing perceptions. When you’ve been long known as the creepy kid, death kid, the weird boy who can summon the dead, it can be strange, throwing away those names. Making people look at you and for the first time seeing someone else.

Things are better now, though.

There’s the odd person – some kid who kept snickering even when that had become decisively not cool, trying to hold on to those old nicknames – but they don’t matter. They fade into the background, white noise. Not needed.

Nico doesn’t need to listen to them anymore.

… Though if they get really shitty, he’s not above making a skeleton hand pop up out of the grass. He’s petty, okay, and if you’ve got moves you might as well show them, right?

So, people here like him – there are friends, and now he has family, and he’s still pretty welcome down in the underworld which he’s pretty sure is something that few can attest to.

But people haven’t always liked him. He’s acutely aware of that. And a problem that comes with years of teasing and ostracization and loneliness is that you never stop expecting those feelings to pop up again, to engulf and surround you. Loneliness leaves a mark that scars for years and so no matter how many people choose to stay there will always be this threat, a shadow that hangs over, something saying: but what if they leave?

And so. Going to Will’s childhood home, meeting his parents for the first time – he’d met Apollo obviously, but he’s just about the easiest person you could possibly impress, throw him a rhyme and he’ll write a ballad in your name – it’s scary. Will loves his family, and if they don’t like him, then where does that leave them?

“Of course they will,” Will protests. “I lo… I like you. So they’ll like you too. That’s how these things work.”

“Plenty of people don’t like me,” Nico reminds him, but it’s more just out of pettiness. “Like Zeus.”

Thunder clap.

Will scoffs. “Zeus doesn’t like anyone.”

A second thunder clap.

“Not true. Zeus likes hot mortal women he can impregnate.”

Will glares at Nico as the rain starts to pour.

“Great,” he sighs. “Now we’ve started a storm.”

Nico grins. “Worth it.”

It definitely is. And for a second it takes his mind off the Impending Doom that lies ahead – also known as Will’s mom waiting at the other end of the airport terminal. It would have been easier to shadow travel, but for once in his life Nico had agreed that it’s maybe not the best idea. Not for the same reason that Will would protest of course. He’s in fine shape to whisk them both of to Texas, but he feels like that kind of appearance wouldn’t make for the best first impression.

Not that he mentioned that part to Will.

Will Solace though, is painfully observant – so when the smile drops off of the end of Nico’s face he immediately picks up on it and reaches out to clasp Nico’s hands, to twine his fingers in with his own.

“Your palms are sweaty,” Will comments. “Gross.”

“Knees weak, arms are heavy,” Nico finishes automatically. “Hey, it seems like your pop culture lessons are rubbing off on me.”

Will grins. “They really are,” he says. ��We’ll make an Eminem fan outta you yet.”

“You don’t even like Eminem.”

“…Not the point.”

“But seriously,” Will tells him. “You really don’t need to be nervous.”

“I am, though,” Nico replies, and for that, he gets a quick squeeze of his palm, gentle and soft.

Gods, does he love holding hands with Will Solace. It’s so dumb and so lame, and so not into this kind of thing. He loves to spar! To duel! To go on adventures and turn monsters to dust! And save the world and rule all of the ghosts and summon the dead!

He does, yeah. Apparently he also loves holding hands and watching really bad movies and kissing lame blonde boys who can’t duel to save their lives.

“I know,” Will tells him. “I know I can’t really stop you being nervous, either. I mean, when I meet your dad I’m gonna be terrified…”

“He’s the Lord of the Underworld, Will.”

“Exactly! My mom can’t exactly imprison your soul to the netherworld!”

Nico snorts. “Probably for the best.”

“Probably,” Will agrees, thoughtfully.

A small silence. They are coming up to the end of their walk. Soon, they will be at the end of the gate, ready to meet Naomi Solace and her husband, Will’s step-dad. Will’s family. The people who raised him and made him smart and kind and caring.

And then Will halts him. He pulls Nico by the hand across the way, outside of the constant stream of people into a corner that’s a little less crowded.

“Hey,” he says. “Look at me.”

Nico looks up at that, raises big brown eyes and he thinks: I really, really, really don’t want to fuck this up.

“Looking at you,” Nico tells him, and Will smiles.

“Noted,” he says. He reaches out and takes Nico’s other hand.

Holding hands with someone is great. Holding both of their hands is even better, even if it makes him feel a bit like he’s in a romance book.

Hey, maybe this is just an especially messed up Greek one. Who knows?

“I know I can’t stop you being nervous, but you’re amazing. Really – you’re great and you make me laugh and feel happy and for that alone my mom will love you. She’s not particularly picky – she fell for Apollo! – but anyone who makes me happy she tends to have a cool thing for. S’why she doesn’t like Apollo as much as she used to these days…”

At that, Nico squeezes Will’s hands gently.

“…So you don’t have to worry. You really don’t have to. She’ll love you, like I – as much as I like you – and it’ll all be fine. And if she doesn’t, which she won’t by the way it doesn’t matter anyway, because she’s my mom, not my keeper, and she doesn’t get to decide who I spend time with.”

All of his words come out in a bit of a mad rush. Nico’s a bit impressed with the rate he manages to spit them all out without tripping over his sentence. Will pauses for maybe half a minute and then he says, “so yeah.”

“Nice finish,” Nico says.

Will grins, and takes a mock bow.

Nico smiles too – it’s kind of disgusting, he can literally feel his face soften, who is he? – and he reaches in to give Will a tiny hug, face burying into his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says. “I just don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” Will promises, his voice very quiet.

Nico moves his head upwards and before he can pull back, Will leans in and catches his lips. It’s not a long kiss, not something really showy or intense, because he knows that Nico hates that kind of PDA. It’s just small and sweet and it lasts a couple of seconds but it is nice and it’s close and it’s reassuring.

That kind of closeness, that says I’m here, I’m with you – that means stuff, means words they’re not around to saying just yet.

When Will moves back and away, he keeps one of his hands brushing against Nico’s cheek for a second. To keep him close. Keep them close, anchored together.

Nico nods, fiercely and decisively.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

Will grins and they detach, only to reattach at the waist by joining their hands together and letting their wrists swing by a little.

See: Nico hates PDA. But handholding isn’t PDA. It’s just closeness and it’s nice.

(It’s still scary, being out – being out and in front of people and letting them see the two of them together like this. But fuck it. If someone says anything, he can raise the dead, can’t he?)

So they finish their walk through the terminal, and cross through into the other side of the airport. There’s a woman waiting, who looks a lot like Will, with curly blonde hair and freckles and kind blue eyes. When she sees them, her face lights up and she beams at the two of them.

“Will!” she shouts. “Nico, hi!”

“Mom!” Will’s beaming, and he doesn’t let go of Nico’s hand, but they move up the way faster after that. He only lets go of Nico to fling his arms around his mom’s neck. And after that, as if in a heartbeat, Naomi Solace is beaming at him and reaching in to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, too.

“You must be Nico,” she says. “It’s so good to meet you.”

“It’s great to meet you too, Mrs Solace,” Nico says. He’s still a bit nervous – heart bumping and thumping – but he’s relaxed, mostly. He feels the tension slipping out of his muscles, the rate of his chest thrumming start to slow down.

Will’s mom gives him this blinding bright smile, as Will’s hand slips back into Nico’s own, and says, “please, call me Naomi.”

[themutantunderground]

Trust Fall Ch. 1

I love this show so much and I love John and Marcos and Lorna, and I love the Mutant Underground. And I like writing about my little butterfly-winged, fire-starting OC kiddo, Riley. So I wanted to write a fic about when she was found and rescued by those three, and how John goes about slowly winning her trust. It's multichaptered, so yay?

Ao3 | FF.net

John shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as he sat in the back of the tent, reluctantly watching as mutants were paraded out onto a rough stage. Beneath the strong smell of sawdust and crushed grass, there was a faint but lingering stench on the tent canvas of rotten food, stale blood, and tears. He wanted to get out, to leave, but there was a very important reason for him to stay.

"This is our lovely yet deadly Sepsis, queen of poisons, a new goddess of death for the future," the announcer was saying dramatically, gesturing to the green-skinned young woman onstage. She couldn't have been more than eighteen. Bright blue liquid dripped from her hands and onto the stage, where it sizzled and scored the cheap wood. "Destruction at her fingertips, chaos on her lips."

Sage had heard that there was a sideshow making its way around Georgia that featured people with physical mutations. It wasn't unheard of, and some mutants found that was an easy way to make money even though it was degrading. But Sage had mentioned that this sideshow had a few kids in it, which meant that John, Marcos, and Lorna had been determined to investigate. Sage had tracked it down to this small town not too far outside of Atlanta, and so they had gone to check it out, leaving HQ in Sage and Shatter's hands.

"This is disgusting," hissed Lorna, her hands twitching in her lap, making gestures that told him she was seconds away from using her powers. But Marcos reached over and wrapped his hand around one of hers, stilling her.

"Yeah, but we have to wait." If they rushed in now, it would cause a panic and the police would get called sooner rather than later, and they might not be able to rescue as many people. Not to mention that maybe some of the mutants here actually wanted to be here. They didn't have enough information yet. But John definitely agreed with her. Seeing humans use mutants like this, as sideshow entertainment…

The green-skinned girl finished her display and then slunk out, her shoulders drooping, her face a blank mask. "We'll come back tonight," John said firmly, "I saw where their trailers are." Back behind the county fairgrounds there were campers and RVs and trailers, which was doubtlessly where all the mutants from this sideshow were staying.

Sideshows like this weren't entirely legal, so they were a quiet, secret part of fairs and circuses these days. Authorities who actually found out were sometimes willing to look away since the 'performers' were mutants, or they could be paid to keep quiet. Of course, there were cops that would put a stop to it, but the sideshows skipped towns like that or ran out when the cops were called. They followed the fairs, but they weren't part of them. The sideshows were more like tagalongs.

On stage, the announcer was hyping up the next "act" while two mutants brought in a big leather trunk. John focused on it and immediately buried his fingers into the makeshift bench beneath him, audibly cracking the wood.

"What?" Lorna demanded, whipping her head toward him. "What's wrong?"

John shook his head, knowing that if he said it, she might launch herself out of the tiny audience and onto the stage. As it was, he was doing his best to keep himself in his seat. "Just. Don't make a move yet."

"John…"

He shook his head again, his eyes not leaving that leather trunk. He saw the tiny air holes, heard the rapid breathing, the jackrabbit heartbeat, fingernails scrabbling over cloth. Someone was going to pay for this.

The announcer was talking again, and John had to force himself to pull his attention from the trunk.

"In the Amazon jungle, there is a legend of an enormous butterfly. A benevolent forest spirit, one might say, this creature is said to be the size of a human child, its massive wings capable of stirring up the rain and bringing the storm."

John was going to show him a storm, one the size of a fist. The trunk rattled, and around them, people whispered and leaned forward in anticipation. John was the only one who could hear the whimpers coming from inside the box.

"But until recently, no one had ever caught a specimen so it was considered to be just another native myth. Now, though, we now better."

The announcer unhooked a latched and threw the lid back, and John's hand snapped out to grab Lorna's wrist as her hand started to come up. "Wait."

"Let go. I'm going to rip the fillings out of his teeth and put them through his eyes—"

"Not yet," John said, but he was right there with her on the sentiment. On Lorna's other side, Marcos clenched his hands, but he didn't make a move for the stage. They had to stay calm, if they didn't handle this correctly, it could go south very quickly.

The little girl in the trunk stood up, her huge wings unfurling and spreading out behind her before she brought them forward, covering her face. The announcer picked her up and put her down outside of the trunk. Slowly her wings peeled back, giving the audience a better look at her.

She was tiny, so small, and he could hear her panic, her pounding heart. Her skin was light purple, like faded lavender, but her wings looked exactly like a Monarch butterfly if that butterfly happened to be bright pink instead of orange. Her hair was black but streaked with the same pink color as her wings. Her dark brown eyes were huge as she did a turn when the announcer gestured to her.

"As you can see, the myth was wrong. She's not just child-sized, she is indeed a child." He put a hand on the girl's shoulder and she immediately ducked away, moving out of his reach. The announcer frowned and when he grabbed her this time, she winced and tears welled up in her eyes.

Every muscle in John's body tensed. Hell.

Screw it.

"Nevermind, do it, Lorna," John said, letting go of her wrist and standing up. He startled the small audience as he walked down the flimsy bleachers and stepped up onto the stage. They must have thought he was part of the act, but the announcer was flustered.

"Hey, you can't be up here," he said, yanking on the girl's arm, getting a whimper out of her. A second later, the announcer's own arm was broken in two places and he was on the floor, pinned down by the metal from the trunk that the kid had been locked in.

The girl's wings came up again, hiding her, as the audience members fled, yelling about crazed mutants and being attacked. They didn't have much time, but John didn't regret it. They could move fast.

Lorna and Marcos were already heading toward him, Lorna's hands outstretched as she controlled the metal keeping the announcer trapped. She flicked her wrists and he zoomed through the tent flap, dragged by the metal wrapped around him. Marcos' attention was on the mutants who were coming out from behind the stage.

They could handle it and get together whoever wanted to get out of this hell hole.

John knelt down in front of the little girl, hoping he didn't look scary even though he had just broken that guy's arm. "Hey there," he said gently, "I'm John. What's your name?"

After a long moment, one wing dropped just a little, enough to show those big brown eyes. She shook her head.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me right now," he said, and he held a hand out to her, "Do you want to leave here?"

She looked at his hand then up at him before her eyes flicked to the gouge marks in the stage where the announcer had been pinned down.

He kept holding his hand out, patient, not rushing her. "I promise I won't hurt you. I only hurt bad guys."

Tentatively, she put her hand in his, her fingers barely touching his palm. She froze for a second as if expecting him to grab her, but when he stayed still, she actually wrapped her fingers around his and stepped toward him, her wings still partially covering her.

John gave her hand a light squeeze. "Let's get you out of here."

[satireknight]

TMNT S02E08 - Invasion of the Punk Frogs

Admit it. That title alone makes you curious.

So it starts with Michelangelo evading lasers, trap doors, and grabby metal hands. Where the hell does Donatello get the sheer amount of equipment needed for this kind of thing?

But at the last minute he’s washed back by a flood of water. It turns out this was a timed obstacle course, which each of them are doing in turn.

And then Splinter says something really weird: “All indications are that [Shredder]’s planning to return with the Technodrome.” What indications? Did they just try to handwave foreshadowing into my face? I don’t remember that coming up before.

Not to mention you’d think Krang wouldn’t be in any hurry to return. I mean, he was pissy on Earth because he’d been banished from his home dimension, and now he’s back where he wanted to be. He seemed pretty happy about the situation at the end of last season. Why would he bring the Technodrome back to Earth?

Anyway, Shredder calls Krang up to announce that he has a new Plan O’ The Week, and this one will really work, unlike all the others, so there. His plan is to create more mutants to attack the Turtles and... second step something something, third step profit.

The problem is that the Technodrome is in the middle of an ion storm, which is presented as being just a thunderstorm. Shredder insists that this absolutely can’t wait and they have to risk sending through the mutagen... um, why? Is there a reason this plan can’t wait until tomorrow?

So we cut to a camper RV in the middle of a swamp, and a couple who are probably going to be arguing about their vacation for the next few months.

I can see why. I’d lambast any spouse o’ mine who took me on vacation to a swamp. What are you supposed to do there, attract leeches?

The couple’s son is keeping himself occupied, though, having found four frogs that he wants to keep as pets. Mom is grossed out and orders him to put them back where he found them.

Just then the canister falls out of the portal, cracks open and starts leaking into the water. Guess what the frogs come into contact with as soon as the boy drops them.

Krang informs Shredder about this fuckup due to his impatience, and Shredder decides to go to Florida. Um, how? I mean, is he going to drive, or take some form of commercial transportation? Rocksteady and Bebop are left in NYC to distract the Turtles from.... um, Shredder not being there.

The Turtles hear about giant frog-mutants, but aren’t able to investigate due to Bebop and Rocksteady generally causing mischief.

Shredder has somehow teleported to Florida, where he finds the canister completely empty and four giant talking frogs. He pretends to be a nice person to get the frogs on his side, gives them holographic clothes (?!), and claims they’re going to be battling the evil Ninja Turtles.

He recalls Rocksteady and Bebop, and introduces them to the frogs: Napoleon, Attila, Genghis and Rasputin. Only Napoleon looks kind of worried about this, ironically.

Bebop rather logically points out that as trained ninjas, the Turtles won’t have any trouble defeating the frogs. Shredder dismisses this by saying that he’s personally trained them... wait, what? This can’t be more than a day or so after he found them, and he presumably spent most of that time getting back to New York.

Are we really supposed to think that he can turn them into good fighters in the space of a single day? Because watching any iteration of TMNT requires a lot of suspension of disbelief, but that pushes me too far.

It also raises again the question of how long the Turtles have been mutants. If you remember, they mutated from tiny turtles right into their teen forms in the first episode, so... does that mean Splinter was just really fast with their training, and they’re not actually teenagers? 

The Turtles are eating again when April tips them off to a report on four green robbers described as looking like giant turtles. Um, the frogs really don’t. They really don’t. They look like frogs.

The mayor starts ranting about how the Turtles have terrorized the city, even though the only “terrorizing” I can remember was from some dorks in costumes. Then again, he IS a politician. Jump on an issue to be seen doing something, and don’t let pesky facts get in the way. So he’s created an anti-Turtle squad to hunt them down, with Max Headroom in charge.

The frogs seem awfully cheerful about the idea of taking over the city, which I guess is naivete in action. I mean, they don’t know that such things are bad, and you can frame almost anything as being good if you want.

Shredder wants more mutagen, but Krang confirms that he already sent him the last. Yes, impatience really got you a mutant army, Shredder. But Krang is apparently in a generous mood, because he will tell Shredder the recipe for making more.

The Turtles, meanwhile, are being hunted down whenever they show up on the surface. It’s funny that the most effective part of Shredder’s plan was actually the part he didn’t plan.

The Frogs show up at a chemical warehouse to steal some stuff, where they debate the morality of what they’re doing.

The Turtles are tipped off about it and somehow get to the chemical plant in the next couple minutes to stop the frogs in mid-heist. Did the frogs stop for dinner before looking for the chemicals? Space is warped and time is bendable!

But the frogs manage to escape using a flash-grenade-arrow.

“I’m insulted! How could anyone mistake those... things for turtles?” Good question. They look like frogs.

Donatello immediately figures out what the stolen chemicals are for, and says that they need another one to finish the mutagen. Don’t ask me how he knows this. He’s the designated know-it-all.

Yes, April has extensive database information on chemical shipments... on a 1988 computer. At a news TV station.

Oh, and because he’s a troll, Krang didn’t mention the last ingredient to Shredder before... just to be a dick. Seriously. 

And he also knows where the shipment of the chemical will be... even though he’s not even on the same planet. Where do people get this information?

Shredder’s also starting to lose the frogs, who want to know why they can’t try to reason with the Turtles instead of just killing them until they’re dead. Shredder obviously does NOT want that to happen.

Meanwhile, April covers the anti-Turtle squad and their giant freeze-ray-equipped tank.

“This tracking device is tuned to their biorhythms.” Wait, what? How the hell did you get those?!

The Turtles intervene when the frogs rob the chemical shipment, but before anything more serious can happen, the anti-Turtle-squad shows up and demands they all surrender. And by “surrender,” I mean stand still so they can be frozen solid.

Fortunately Raphael knocks away the nozzle, and giant chunks of ice end up falling on the tank. These soldiers are clearly the best.

Leonardo says that they have to bring the frogs with them, because they’re also mutants, and they can’t let Captain Hoffman have them. Donatello and Raphael take some convincing, but they eventually come around to his way of thinking.

So they each grab a frozen frog and head into the sewers.

Splinter says that they have to win the frogs over with a show of trust, and first by melting the ice. Apparently being frozen solid is something you can get over in a matter of seconds if someone blows steam on you.

The frogs freak out and prepare to attack, but Splinter orders the Turtles to disarm, and tells the frogs that they can leave if they want. Might have been a good idea to not actually bring them to your home before that. The frogs finally realize that Shredder has been using them, and once again Leonardo has an idea.

Which he starts whispering to nobody in particular.

So back at Shredder’s current base, the frogs say that the Turtles got the chemical shipment and are going to hide it at the closed-down Stonewall Prison, aka Alcatraz.

Of course, it’s all a trap and the Turtles are lying in wait for Shredder, who figures out immediately that the frogs were involved in this scheme.

But before any kind of fight can break out, the anti-Turtle squad shows up. No, I have no idea how they knew to come here, since there’s nobody at the prison to tip them off, and Shredder was the only one to be told where the Turtles would be. 

Oh right, the bullshit tracking device that will be inexplicably dropped after the next few scenes. Really, if it were that easy, wouldn’t Shredder have found out where they live by now?

So Shredder whips out a crystal ball and holographically projects some squad uniforms on himself and his two mutants, before running out to leave the turtles and frogs in the lurch.

The anti-Turtle Squad throws knockout gas at them as they run... which somehow doesn’t affect them despite the lack of gas masks...

and the mutants make their way into the prison laundry room. The Turtles are having trouble staying conscious, but fortunately Rasputin still has his Green Arrow quiver and is able to blast a giant hole in the floor for them all to escape through. Captain Hoffman is defeated, his bullshit tracker never comes up again, and the whole subplot just kind of fizzles out of existence.

The Turtles say goodbye to the frogs, Michelangelo offers them a pizza only to get epicly rejected, and I have to wonder when in the last few days the frogs even tried pizza in order to hate it. Also, Splinter looks like he’s plotting revenge.

VERDICT

This one goes under the listing of “pretty good, but not great.” The biggest problems are the excessively fast training of the frogs, who become a threat to the Turtles in under a day, and the go-nowhere plotline of the anti-Turtle squad. I actually really like the idea, but it’s simply brought up and then dropped, when it could have made for a good secondary antagonist force in future episodes, especially since the mayor is unlikely to just decide the Turtles aren’t a problem because the episode ended.

The story itself is a pretty straightforward one, but it does have a lot to do, including introducing the Punk Frogs and bringing about their eventual about-face. I liked that their big issue was naivete rather than just being bad or good; they literally didn’t realize that someone could lie to them if they seemed nice, sort of like small children. They could have done a bit more questioning when Shredder was acting obviously evil, but overall it was a good take on the perils that would be faced by animal-originated mutants, and it even makes you wonder how the Turtles would have turned out if they had been with someone who wasn’t good like Splinter.

And of course, the door is left open for what other mutants might come out of Florida (hint hint) since presumably other animals down there would come into contact with the mutagen.

Krang, of course, remains a wonderful troll.

GRADE: B

[bespectacled-girl-blog]

Flying Away: Chapter 4

Word count: 2158 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

I don’t know what you guys will think, but I have a feeling things are starting to get interesting, angst is coming! Also, my characters are not moving as fast as I’d thought, but I find my writing to be more detailed than I’d thought it would be (that probably comes from the fact that it’s the way I write in French). I hope it’s not too much and too boring. Again, if you have anything to say about my story, please feel free to do so, feedback is greatly appreciated :) Tagging @nifwrites, @themissimmortal, @cupnoodle-queen, @blindbae, @chocobrodreamteam, @stunninglyignis, @atarostarling, @lupanaoflaminar

When Gladio turned toward Lyne, he saw Ignis’ dagger hit the MT standing behind the young woman as it was about to drive its axe into her back. His mind went blank. He rushed to her, and despite his best efforts to calm down, he started to lose it.

“Okay girl, that won’t do. I know this is all new to you, but could you try to focus? It was only a simple fight, so we need you to be able to…”

“It wasn’t her fault, Gladio, Ignis cut in. We ought to have been more careful as well. I suggest someone stays by Lyne’s side until she gets some fighting reflexes. Not everybody was born with a sword in their hands.”

“Do I need to remind you that it’s the prince we’re supposed to protect?”

“Gladio, Noct intervened. “The prince” knows how to fight, so I have to side with Specs. Until she’s more used to all this, someone should stay by Lyne’s side. If you don’t wanna do it, it’s fine. We’ll take turns with Prompto and Iggy.”

They didn’t get it. They didn’t get it at all. Gladio wasn’t sure he got it any better though, and just like that, his anger subsided.

“No, that’s not it. Listen…”

But he was at a loss for words.

“Okay, nevermind, forget about it. I’ll stay with her during the next fight.”

Nobody had anything to retort, so he supposed the matter was settled. They got back on their chocobos and resumed their search for the first runestone that would lead them to the storm god. Gladio was brooding on his mount as he rode alongside Lyne. The real problem, the thing that was making him mad, was that, once again, he hadn’t been up to the task. He was supposed to be a shield, the king’s shield. He had failed to protect his liege, and owed his life to a young woman who’d come from nowhere and didn’t know how to fight. And then he had failed to protect that very same woman, who now owed her life to Ignis. Was he losing his edge? How was he going to help Noct fulfill his destiny if he couldn’t even protect Lyne from a single MT? His eyes darted to the young woman next to him. The look of despair she’d had the previous night was back. It pained him even more to know that he was probably the cause of that. He was going to have to apologise once they made camp. Iggy was right, it wasn’t her fault, she’d done as they’d told her. He wanted her to look at him, so he could at least let her know that he wasn’t mad at her, but her eyes remained stubbornly fixed on her chocobo’s head. He was about to reach out to her and aplogise, when he heard Noct’s voice.

“That way, I think we found it!”

They got off their mounts, and walked to the place the prince had indicated. Sure enough, the runestone stood there, waiting for Noct to touch it.

It was over before Gladio even realised it had begun. Noct looked preoccupied, but he urged them to continue.

As they got out of the gorge, a large group of MTs were waiting for them. This time, Gladio stayed around Lyne, taking down the soldiers who got too close to them. He couldn’t help noticing that the young woman looked even more terrified than she had during the previous fight, and cursed himself once again. She was still focused on the fight despite her state of mind, and managed to help Ignis after he’d got hit a little too harshly by an MT swordsman. Once the fight was over, he turned her way and, as he put his hand on her shoulder, said tentatively:

“You did good.”

He saw her flinch at his touch, so he removed his hand at once. That girl was really on edge, and she probably had him to thank for it. Nevertheless, she looked him in the eye and answered, almost daring him to add a “but” to his sentence.

“Thanks”.

On edge, but proud.

They hadn’t been able to find the second runestone before the night, so they had stopped at a camper near a gas station. Ignis had outdone himself in the kitchen, and they’d all had a nice little chat, though Lyne couldn’t quite enjoy it as much as she’d wanted to. All she wanted to do was go to bed, be away from Gladio. She was so sad he thought she had fucked up, and at the same time she felt he hadn’t been fair with her. He’d tried to make it up to her after their second fight with the MTs, but that didn’t really cheer her up. What was the point of getting out of a shitty life if she was going to be yelled at in this world too? Maybe she was the problem, in the end… After the joy she’d felt the previous night and that morning, sadness was back in her heart.

Rain had stopped falling outside, so Lyne decided to go for a quick walk, get some fresh air. But she soon heard the door of the camper open and close, and someone following her. She didn’t turn to see who it was, but kept on walking instead. She stopped suddenly in her tracks. What if it was Ignis? Ignis was too nice with her for her to be mean to him on purpose. She didn’t want to hurt him because she was too sensitive to handle a remark from Gladio. She heard someone clearing their throat behind her, probably wanting to let her know of their presence. Her arms crossed on her chest, she turned. Wrong guy. She rolled her eyes at him.

“What do you want?” She said, more weakly than she’d intended.

“Isn’t it obvious? I came to apologise.” He growled in response.

Okay, this was getting them nowhere. Being aggressive with him was not going to help. Stop making the same mistakes over and over again, she thought.

“I’m listening”, she replied, more kindly this time.

Gladio sighed, and gestured to her to follow him to a pair of chairs outside the restaurant.

“It’s just that, seeing you in danger, it… made me mad. Truth is, I wasn’t mad at you really, more at myself. You know, I’m supposed to protect Noct, I’m his sworn shield, the Amicitia family are always shields to the line of Lucis. I’ve prepared myself to the task my whole life, and now I feel like I’m failing. I put Noct in danger with Deadeye, and today it was your turn. I just… couldn’t handle it.”

“I… see.” Lyne hadn’t expected him to be so direct with his feelings, men usually didn’t confide in her, probably because she was so shy. She chose her words carefully. “Well, from what I’ve seen in the brief period of time I’ve been with you guys, you are one hell of a fighter, and a great friend to Noct. But I have a feeling you might be putting too much pressure on yourself. You are not the only one protecting him, Ignis and Prompto are here too, doing their part. And I’m here too now, and I’ll do my best to help you for as long as I can. Maybe what you need is shake off your guilt, learn to rely more on others, and be thankful you have them.”

(Yeah girl, listen to you, why don’t you follow your own piece of advice, for a change)

Gladio seemed to ponder that a moment, before answering.

“I… guess you’re right. Look, I’m really sorry I yelled at you earlier, sometimes I’m a real dick. I don’t want you to feel bad around us, I’ve got a feeling you’ve been through enough before, so could you please forget I’ve said anything?”

“I promise I’ll try” she replied with a smile.

He squeezed her hand and helped her to her feet, and they got back to the camper together. She couldn’t help noticing Ignis looking through the window at the pair of them. When she climbed inside though, he was nowhere to be seen, and when she asked, Prompto told her he’d just went to bed.

As far back as he could remember, cooking had always soothed Ignis’ nerves. Whenever he’d had a bad day at school, or if young prince Noctis had been really hard to handle, his mother would be here at the end of the day, taking him in the kitchen to teach him new things. This quality time he’d had he cherished over any other memory, and that was what he got back to when he cooked for his companions.

That morning while he was busying himself with breakfast, he felt a little bit like he had in those days, when sadness took over and his mother was here to comfort him. Except this time, his mother was not here. Would never be here any more. He didn’t know why he felt that way though. He’d had a perfectly normal day – that was, as normal a day as could be, when you were the Chosen King’s royal advisor, travelling with him so that he could receive the Astrals’ blessing to defeat darkness. He’d gone to bed early, and one of the last things he remembered about the previous night was watching Gladio and Lyne chatting outside. He didn’t understand what was so special about that image, but it was somehow printed on his mind’s eye, and the scene kept repeating itself in his memory. But he wasn’t one to dwell on what feelings could possibly be lurking behind his reaction to what he’d seen, so he was trying hard to stop thinking, and cooking was the best help he knew.

After a time Lyne joined him. He acted as if nothing had happened the day before, because, really, nothing had happened, hadn’t it? He couldn’t quite understand why part of him mind thought otherwise. They took their breakfast together, chatting amicably about life in Lucis. Gladio got up and joined them, before going for a quick jog. Ignis couldn’t help watching them as his friend wished her a good morning, and she responded with a smile. What was the matter with him? Why was it that such tiny details caught his full attention when so many things required it instead?

He was brought out of his thoughts by the young woman’s question:

“So, when do we start my training?”

Ignis hadn’t even thought about that. How could he have forgotten about such an important thing? He really wasn’t quite himself that morning. Looking out of the window, he saw that rain had spared them for the time being, though big dark clouds were getting closer.

“I suppose we could start on the basics while the weather remains fair. I suggest you fetch your daggers, and then we can be on our way.”

She got back from the little room in no time, her daggers in her hands and a smile on her face. Ignis couldn’t help noticing how pretty she was when she was smiling. And right now that smile was just for him.

They settled in a clearing not far from Cernix Station. He showed her how to properly hold herweapons, and one or two basic moves. She was eager to learn, and listened carefully each time he stopped her to correct her movements. She wasn’t a natural, he could see a clumsiness in her movements, and it was quite understandable given the fact that in her world you needn’t learn how to fight against monsters -she had explained to them that the worst monsters of her world were other humans. But she would probably be able to make up for it in no time, thanks to her quick wits.

After they had practised for some time, rain started again, and Ignis called it quits.

“Let us go back to the camper, and get ready to resume our search for the second runestone. You did well today, I have good hopes to bring you along for a few simple fights very soon.”

“Thanks Ignis, she replied with a smile. For being so kind with me, for saving me yesterday, and for accepting to train me. It means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it. I am sure you would have done the same, had the situation been reversed.”

“For you? Of course I would have.”

They got back to the camper, and Ignis couldn’t even muster the courage to be cross with Noct, who was still fast asleep even though it was already past ten.

Ignis couldn’t quite understand why, but his need to cook had vanished.

Go to Chapter 5

[jflashandclash]

Tales from Mount Othrys

Luke: Uncomfortable Beginnings IV

 “Did you kill them? Who are you and what are you trying to recruit me for? Us for,” Fēi Lín asked.

Luke knew he didn’t need to hide the answers to those questions, but his mind still raced. What if she asked about something else? Something about Kronos that he wasn’t willing to share?

         “I’m ashamed to say I hadn’t even heard of Jackie boy before today. Again, embarrassing considering that someone must have written about his healing, even if a wack journalist,” Phil said, putting his hands up in a surrender position. Either that or showing off the ligaments that he might be about to lose. “Though, if he only sings in choir or hospitals, they could have attributed it to God or doctors.”

         “Same,” Luke said, his mouth working before he could plan the words. “About not knowing Jack or his family. I don’t read wack journals. We’re recruiting you to help destroy the Olympic gods because I’m mad at my dad.”

         Hatred burned in Luke’s chest. He did not like disclosing that last part so casually to strangers. That made it sound so simple; it undermined what he wanted to do to the Olympians and the pain he went through. What Thalia had suffered.  

         “Smooth, kid,” Phil said.

         Fēi Lín tapped the driver wheel, glaring at the satyr. “And you? Why do you want to recruit me?”

         “Hey, I’m good at my job, lady, and I’m proud of dredging through your records. People that get in your way, they do things that they wouldn’t normally do to hurt themselves. Recruiting you will put a shiny spot on my record and I’ll get all the fuzzy feels about helping a kid, since I feel like you’ll do way better at Camp Othrys than Camp Half-Blood. And as to why I’m doing this job—do you think all satyrs like being Dionysus’ slaves?” Phil spat out the window. “I don’t even care if we win the coming war and I don’t really care about our boss. I just wanna be a thorn in that bastard’s toe.”

         Luke made a mental note about how Phil didn’t care if they won. That could be detrimental later.

         Fēi Lín tapped her steering wheel again. “Everybody out,” she said.

         Luke jumped out of the car. Phil was half a second behind him. Luke bit his lip. He wasn’t entirely sure if she’d forced him out of the car or if he’d hopped out on instinct.

         Jack slowly slid out of his seat, hugging himself.

         “Where are we?” Luke finally asked.

         “Somewhere you will act respectfully and ask a minimal number of questions,” Fēi Lín said. She jumped out of the car and flicked her keys around one finger, leading them towards a side door that looked more like an entrance to a scene from Scream.

         In a small town like this, Luke had an uncomfortable feeling that this girl would know exactly where to hide their bodies.

         “The Dǒng residence,” Phil said, “Kid, I know you’re dyslexic and all, but, uh, you can read the files that I slaved over making you, right? They’re in Greek.”

         Luke scowled. With the Kronos dreams at night, directing Cabin Eleven during the day, and then sneaking out during his off hours to set up Camp Othrys and gather an army, he thought he deserved some slack. He couldn’t exactly read files on potential campers at the pavilion with all the tiny Hermes hands hoping for some blackmail on each other. “You could also tell me about them on the way over here,” Luke spat back.

         Fēi Lín led them through the door and down a hallway that’s carpet might have been cleaner if it came from a dumpster. Lights flickered and water stains seeped down the once-white walls. Each door was a faded color, perhaps originally bright greens and reds. There was a piece of trash here and there and, to Luke’s disgust, a used condom.

         This really did look like somewhere she would strap them into a chair and start a very different kind of interrogation.

         She stopped at a bend in the hallway, in front of the single freshly painted red door.

         Jack perked up and rushed to stand beside her.

         Once Fēi Lín finished unlocking the door, Jack reached for the handle.

         She paused and examined him. Her stern expression broke. “Jack…” she said in the best we talked about this voice.

         Jack gave her the world’s weakest smile. He cleared his throat and his tears. “After you, Ms. Davidson,” he said, his voice shaking as he opened the door for her and gestured the three of them inside.

         Fēi Lín’s discolored cheeks lit up. It took Luke a moment to process that she was blushing and to realize Jack and Fēi Lín might not just be friends, or, at least Jack wanted them to be more.

         Fēi Lín briskly entered.

         Luke swallowed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t walking into some kind of trap. Not that she needed to trap him considering what she did to the cops.

         He could hear running water and music. The room was brightly lit, nothing like the terror he’d been expecting from the earlier hallway.

         Jack continued to hold the door and motioned them forward, that shaky smile probably the least encouraging thing Luke had seen.

         Phil walked in without hesitation. Luke followed and also made a mental note to talk to Phil about his willingness to walk into situations that had “death” written all over them.

         “Shoes off,” Fēi Lín said, already setting hers onto a floor matt beside the door. She slipped on some smiling bunny slippers. Not what Luke was expecting. “Zài jiā! Zǎo shang hǎo, Nǎinai,” she said, louder. “Jack hé wǒ de liǎng gè péngyǒu yě zài zhèlǐ.”[1]

         Phil frowned down at his hooves. He’d already kicked off his boots when he assaulted the cops. “Anyone got some plastic wrap that I can slap over these suckers?”

         Fēi Lín shot him a glare.

         Jack took off his neon orange converses and slipped on a pair of dragon slippers that must have been there for him. Luke followed Jack and Fēi Lín’s lead and put his shoes on the floor mat.

         The apartment was small and minimalist. There wasn’t a hint of clutter. On the right, there was a small kitchen with plants hanging and nesting in every open space. The windows beside the counter were open and showed off the apartment building’s modest garden. On the left, there was a table with four chairs and a small box TV that looked like it was from the 80’s.

         A massive framed mirror lined the left wall, reflecting the window’s view. A tiny fountain gurgled beside the doorway.

         There were two closed doorways in front of them, one Luke guessed was a bathroom and the other he assumed was a bedroom. Opera music came from under one of the doors.

         Fēi Lín walked to the door with the music and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her without a word to them.

         Walking into the apartment seemed to calm Jack. He stepped over to the kitchen and set a kettle on the stove. He hesitated, looking at Phil and Luke. “Um, do either of you want anything to drink? Flynn says that Mrs. Davidson, her grandma, doesn’t really like me drinking soda, since it’s bad for my voice, but…” Jack leaned forward a little bit, his weak grin becoming goofy. “I hide some Coke behind the extra trash bags in the cabinet if you’d like one. It’ll be our secret.”

         Phil snorted. “Jeeze kid, the Coca-Cola scandal. How did a goodie church boy like you end up with Ms. Pleather Pants? And coke for the kid. I’ll take a mug if you’re making a pot of tea.”

         Jack’s freckled face went bright red. For a split second, it was like nothing had happened to his family. “I—I don’t know. Flynn can have anyone she wants, and does when it suits her fancy.”

         Luke stomach twisted at the way Jack said it, though the younger guy didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. Something about that felt very wrong. Luke realized it would be dumb to point out how Fēi Lín’s facial scars might limit her partner choices, especially to someone sweet on her.

         One part stuck. “We could have been saying Flynn this whole time?” Luke asked, glaring at Phil.

         Phil shrugged, smirking. “I thought a little enculturation would be good for you.”

         Jack pulled two mugs down from a cabinet and withdrew two Cokes. He brought the Cokes over to the table. He motioned for them to sit down.

         Luke took a Coke from him and collapsed in a chair. Phil sat beside him.

This was proving to be a complicated day. Even though the drink was warm, it felt refreshing after how tense he’d been. Just having a break from Fēi Lín—Flynn?—was nice. How much time had they spent out though? He needed to make sure Mr. D wouldn’t get suspicious. The Stolls, two of his most promising campers, could only cause organized chaos to cover for him for so long.

         At least Jack would talk, even if he did seem a little absent. Luke imagined finding your family dead would do that to you. “So, you and Flynn?” he asked, unsure if they could uncover anything else about Jack’s family and nervous Flynn would storm out the moment he asked where she went.

         Jack’s blush grew redder. “Yea. Her family was new to town. Everyone around here knows each other, so—uh—she was cool. She saved me from a monster attack. She—she’s so awesome.” His eyes turned wistful as he glanced at the closed door.

         The kettle began to whistle. Jack robotically walked back to fill the two mugs. “She told me that I wasn’t broken in the head, that I really could help people. Like…” Jack brought the two mugs over. Again, he conspiratorially leaned closer to Phil and Luke as he set the cups down. “She said her grandmother hadn’t acknowledged anyone since Flynn moved in with her. Sometimes, after I sing for them, Mrs. Davidson will even smile at me.”

         Jack giggled in delight, grinning from ear to ear.

         “Uh—huh,” Phil said, glancing at Luke. “Kid, you can definitely heal people. I guess I’m just wondering… with Flynn’s record, I take it your parents didn’t like you spending time with her or her grandma?”

         It was Luke’s turn to kick Phil’s hoof. This guy had just lost his family. Luke remembered how unstable he was before he found Thalia, when he ran from his mother, and how quick he’d come to tear people down if they criticized Thalia’s clothing after they got close.

         Jack frowned. He sat down beside them, his posture rigid. He stared at his untouched bottle of Coke. “Aston told them the stupid rumors going around the school about her.”

         Phil leaned back. “Is that what you guys argued about last night?”

         Jack fiddled with the bottle. His eyes were so red-rimmed and sunken. “I…. I asked Flynn to prom yesterday, when I was carrying her books to her English class. She gets so mad when I fuss over her.” He cracked a small smile. “But, I like, asked-asked her, not just as a friend.”

Luke took another swig of his Coke. He had to wonder if Thalia would have hit him for asking her to a dance. He suspected she’d secretly be thrilled. He hoped, with everything they planned with Kronos, he’d get to find out one day.

         It sucked that Jack asked Flynn the night before his family died. Ways to bum out an occasion.

“I’d been planning how to ask her for weeks—I mean, I didn’t think she would actually say yes with how stupid she thinks that stuff is and—I mean—I’m just a junior,” Jack continued. His bashfulness died with the next comment. “Mom and Steve already don’t like me going out because of my condition, but the idea of me dating Flynn… especially since they don’t like her telling me I’m not crazy…” Jack’s hand shook as he peeled the label off the bottle. “They’re wrong about her.”

         For a moment, only the fountain gurgled.

         That was a motive for murder, but Luke still didn’t buy it.

         Jack set the bottle down, eyes wide. “B—but you can’t tell her that’s what we argued about. I don’t want her to think—”

         “Jack.”

         Jack’s lips pressed shut and he ducked his head down.

         Flynn stepped out of the room, giving them a critical look. There was a duffle bag over her shoulder. She walked over to Jack and held a hand out to him. “Mr. Sunny?” she asked.

         Jack exhaled in relief. He fumbled around in his pockets and withdrew a—a weekly pill organizer? Luke blinked. They’d named it?

         She snatched it and went to fumble in the cabinets. “This place you want to recruit us to, do they have access to Clozapine, Olanzapine, or Aripiprazole?”

         Phil snorted. “Those aren’t exactly interchangeable, but, yea, I can get them for you.” He scowled.

         Luke’s stomach took a sharper turn as he visualized the inside of his closet, where lights flickered and his mother’s scream tore into his hiding spot. The glow of her green eyes would still perforate through the cracks of the closet door.

         She took pills like that. They didn’t help his mother’s “condition.”

         Extra saliva had built up in Luke’s mouth. He swallowed it away. “Do you… see prophecies? Vision of the future” he asked carefully. He never wanted to be near someone that could do that again.

         Jack blinked, looking confused. “No. I see monsters,” he said.

         “And your parents had you medicated for that?” Phil asked, anger making his voice shake.

          “Well, yea. I see monsters,” Jack said.

         “Di Immortales,” Phil muttered. “This is why kids should never tell their parents anything.”

         Luke’s fingers began to shake around his Coke bottle. This was just like his mother. This is why the gods needed someone to put them in their place. “And your dad just let that happen? Let you think you’d lost your mind and didn’t claim you or send any help?”

         Like Hermes did to Luke and his mother.

When May Castellan did take pills and didn’t have a fit, she was practically brain-dead: lethargic, drooling, and dizzy. Luke tried not to picture Jack like that. He wondered how recently the guy had taken his medication.

         Jack stared at the table, the red-rims around his eyes growing more pronounced. “Steve was the one who drove me to the doctor. He said a boy my age shouldn’t be afraid of silly things like monsters.”

         That must have been his stepdad.

         “That’s not who he means,” Flynn said. She brought Jack’s pill box back over. Her duffle bag rattled with his extra pill bottles. “We can’t go back to Jack’s house and this is the first place the cops will look for him.”

         For the first time since Flynn had opened her mouth to talk that day, Luke felt back in control. He knew how to do this pitch and now he knew, for sure, that he wanted these two at camp. He’d have to talk to Kronos to make sure Flynn couldn’t usurp control, but Luke guessed that Kronos could easily read through her parlor trick. “The cops won’t find Jack or you with us. We’re small right now, but we’re expanding. There’s food and shelter. We’re working to take down the gods so this—” He gestured to Jack. “—doesn’t happen again.”

         Flynn nodded. She glanced around the small apartment. “I’ll need to come back once a week and bring Jack.” She stated it as a nonnegotiatiable fact.  

         Luke wasn’t used to demigods wanting to see their family. He, Annabeth, and Thalia had run away from neglect and abuse. If neither of Flynn nor Jack had run away yet, and Jack was this at-home with Flynn’s Nainai—whatever that was, grandmother?—then she must have been alright. Flynn and Jack would have to worry about private investigators and the cops early on, but he didn’t see why they couldn’t orchestrate their return. “We’ll make it work.”

         Flynn gripped the strap of her duffle bag so tightly, her knuckles turned white. “So, we join your squad to kill our godly parents. Do we need to wear jackets or something that’ll make us targets to monsters?” She glanced down at his bright orange sweatshirt.

         Luke wanted to punch Chiron in the face. “No. We work with monsters that are under a truce. You just need to swear loyalty to Kronos and forsake the Greek gods.”

         Jack’s lip trembled. “Swear loyalty to a false god to work with demons?”

         Luke wanted to laugh. That sounded like a pitch that Thalia would have signed up for in a heartbeat.

         “Technically he’s a Titan.” Phil blew on his tea. “And they don’t really like being called ‘demons.’”

         “If you’re swearing yourself to him, what happens to your soul after you die?” Jack asked.

         Luke opened his mouth. He paused and glanced at Phil.

         “Huh,” Phil said, “I mean, I turn into a daisy no matter how this shit goes down.”

         “You swore fealty to a deity without asking what it would do to your soul?” Flynn asked skeptically.

         “Once we take over, it’ll all be fine,” Luke said, shaking the thought off. He didn’t know why they were so worried. They were talking about vengeance: here and now. Sorting out the Underworld could come once they had disposed of Hades and his crew.

         Jack set his Cola down and hugged himself again. They would definitely need to come back to the whole religion thing later.

         Flynn stared at Luke.

         “Who do you think is my godly parent?” she asked slowly.

         “Oh, with the power in your voice and that physique?” Phil snorted and took a sip of his tea. “Definitely Aphrodite.”

         Jack glared at him.

         Luke had to agree.

On the wall, Luke had been trying not to look at a picture of a fifth grade girl. Although the distortion of features made it hard to tell, Luke was fairly certain that girl was a younger Flynn. Even at age ten, she looked beautiful and had facial features that would probably have matured to make her gorgeous.

It took Luke every ounce of self-control not to ask her if a hydra had spit acid in her face before she went to middle school.        

         Flynn frowned. She glanced back towards the door with the opera music, her expression blank and eyes hollow. “The goddess of sex and beauty, right?”

         “Yea. Love, beauty, pleasure,” Luke said, remembering how Silena scolded the boys and reminded them to leave the last one out when talking to younger campers.

         Flynn released a laugh, one that contained no mirth and had no smile. Luke felt like he’d missed out on a joke that he didn’t want to hear. His curiosity about her scars vanished.

         “Yea,” she said, “I’ll help you kill my mom.”

         The conviction in her voice made Luke grin.  He stood and held out a hand. “Let’s restart this. I’m Luke Castellan.”

         Flynn gripped his hand tight enough to make him wince. “Flynn Davidson.”

         Jack swallowed. Uncertainly, he stood. He started to reach his hand out, flinched, then fully extended it. Luke took it. Jack had a gentle, comforting handshake, especially when compared to Flynn’s. “Jack Flash.”

         Phil stood up and pinched his shirt like he was wearing overalls. “And I’m Phil: the trainer of fucking heroes.”

         Flynn scoffed and nodded to the exit. She made no indication of needing to say goodbye when she said, “Let’s get out of here and fuck up our parents.”

And, with that, Luke formed a partnership that would last their entire (very short) lives. He just didn’t realize how soon after things would start to go wrong.

 ***

Thank you for the read! I hope you enjoyed the introduction to Luke’s elite squad! Stay tuned next week for The Versatility of a Guitar String, where you get to see what happened at Camp Half-Blood when Percy was looking for the Master Bolt. Follow Luke and Jack as they go undercover to recruit more half-bloods and Phil gets to juggle a corpse—wait—Phil, that’s unsanitary. Please wear gloves!

  Footnote:

[1] I’m home! Good morning, grandmother. Jack is here, along with two of my friends.