we did it we did the camping


I don’t miss the anxiety and panic and deep sadness of unrequited love, but… it was nice, sometimes. Really nice. When it wasn’t excruciatingly painful, it felt amazing to have feelings for somebody.

The electric jolts from brief, accidental touches. The sensation of looking into a spotlight when we made eye contact. The way everything about her was fascinating, even things I had found uninteresting before. That was really something.

Yeah, sure, she did eventually tell me she thought of me as a little brother, but the *hoping* before then was sometimes wonderful. We stole ice cream and kayaked into the sunset. She ‘borrowed’ the golf cart and raced it around camp while I hung on for dear life. We dragged mattresses out into the field and slept side-by-side under the stars. I snuck out of my cabin after curfew and she brought me absolutely divine fried chicken.

It did suck to find out that she’d never even considered it, but… man… it was incredibly exhilarating to think that we were flirting.

Everyone is so mad that Real Madrid were so dramatic about it, let me explain to you why this was the best possible way it could have happened.

We didn’t even need to win AT ALL today. We just needed to NOT lose. The Copa tie was already decided in the first leg. All we needed was the record. Cules (who previously held the record of 39 matches) at 3-2 were SO ready to celebrate keeping their record. It was so close. They almost had it. And in the very last 10 seconds it was snatched from their hands. Millions of drafts were being deleted, trillions of salty tears were being shed. Not only did WE end their streak at the Camp Nou 9 months ago, we went on to beat it in a way that built up their hope and slam dunked it in the trash bin. We did that. This has been beyond perfect. I love Real Madrid Club de Destroying Your Records.

anonymous asked:

Could you do au where Percy Annabeth and Nico get PTSD from some sort of war but they have like Tartarus nightmares. Please and I really love your headcanons and stuff

I don’t even know how this happened but it did so here it is another au that I shouldn’t have started but I did so now we all just have to live with it

  • they hadn’t slept for two days 
  • Olympus was ripping at the seams and there was nothing they could do about it 
  • they rested in a cave by the sea, the three of them huddled around a fire 
  • “Do we have any way of letting everyone know we’re alive?” Nico asked, breaking the silence 
  • “I sent a naiad with a message. She should be able to use the creek near the camp site to get the message to Clarisse and Will,” said Percy. 
  • “Good,” Nico said
  • he stared blankly into the fire hoping his friends wouldn’t mourn him prematurely 
  • “I’ll take first watch. You boys get some sleep.” 
  • they knew not to argue with her so they simply laid down, Percy putting his head in her lap, and hoped that sleep would over take them 
  • no one was sure exactly how the war had started, but they had all felt it 
  • something had been said up on Olympus and lines had been drawn 
  • in a strange turn of events, Poseidon and Athena found themselves aligned against Zeus 
  • the cabins at CHB had followed suit and began arguing internally 
  • Poseidon, Hades, Athena, and Apollo found themselves fighting against Hermes, Artemis, Demeter, and Zeus
  • Ares and Hephaestus kids had split down the middle
  • Aphrodite and Dionysus had abstained from taking sides and were running Camp as a neutral zone, doing their best to mediate and provide medical care 
  • after a particularly gruesome battle, Percy, Annabeth and Nico had gotten separated from their troops by an explosion and after being chased by the Hunters had managed to hide and find shelter 
  • Nico’s nightmare comes first: he stands across from Hunters of Artemis, sword in hand. As they attack, Nico strikes them down one by one but as they fall they turn into Bianca who looks at him with betrayal in her eyes and a question on her lips- why are you doing this? 
  • Percy’s nightmare is along the same lines– darkness overwhelms him and he decimates his enemies but as he surveys the battlefield all he sees are the faces of his former friends. The Stoll brothers lay bleeding, holding hands and comforting each other in their last moments; Thalia lays breathless with an arrow sticking out of her chest; Katie Gardner clings to the grass, gasping for air, begging the plants to heal her 
  • he looks up to see Jason standing across from him, Imperial Gold sword in his hand and thunder clouds clapping behind him 
  • Percy looks down to see the creek water swirling at his feet and looks back up to stare Jason in the eye 
  • as they charge at each other a large wave crashes and there is a large boom of thunder- that’s when Percy wakes up 
  • he finds to find his living pillow has been replaced with a sweater 
  • he gets up and sees Annabeth staring at the cave wall with something in her hand 
  • he hugs her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her cheek 
  • when he looks at the cave wall he sees what looks like a diagram of a battlefield 
  • she twists out of his arms and turns towards him, the light from the fire illuminating her face 
  • “I can end it, Percy. I can fix the rift and I can stop our friends from killing each other. I just have to create the perfect plan.” 
  • “It’s not your job to fix it. The gods started this, and they have to finish it.” 
  • “I’m making it my job, Percy. What kind of life are we gonna have if they keep doing this? No. I have to figure out how to end it. Once and for all.” 
  • “Their fighting has survived eons of conflict, Annabeth.” 
  • she turned back to the cave wall
  • “Well it won’t survive me.” 

Aww! I imagine this is what Karaoke with the cast of the Pitch Perfect movies would be like 😅


Molly: How did I do with dinner!?

Kaisa: It looks even better than marshmallows over the fire! I didn’t know you could cook!

Molly: I really can’t this was pure luck! The grill did most of the work…

Kasia: Give yourself some credit! if we um… ever have kid’s can we please bring them here?

Molly: Absolutely! My favorite childhood memories are of us camping! We brought our cousins! Marceline was so bad but that’s part of what makes her so fun…

Kaisa: Am I fun enough for you? I don’t want you to consider me a gloomy bore…

Molly: You remind me of my mother, who I love more than anything in the world… sweet and sensible… you put others first… I adore you Kasia… 


“Well, that was cheerful,” Lothar said, letting the atmosphere around the campfire settle heavily. The bone of meat in his hand was no longer quite so appealing. He wished he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t taken Garona’s statement as teasing - the truth was more horrifying and he wished he didn’t know it. Wished that it hadn’t happened at all.

He finished eating in silence and cleaned off his hands before unfurling a wing and starting to comb his fingers through the feathers. He’d grown used to doing this around campfires over the years, in the presence of other soldiers where there was little enough privacy for things that mattered, let along grooming, but it was slightly strange to know the others here weren’t soldiers. Khadgar didn’t seem to care about the presence of others, however, and had draped a wing forward over his shoulder to do the same.

Lothar ignored him. Like his sword and armour, his wings were equipment that needed regular maintenance. It wasn’t vanity on his part - their mottled brown colour meant that vanity had never been a true consideration and their massive size meant that even frequent grooming felt like fighting an uphill battle sometimes. And indeed, the pile of loose feathers and fluff he was pulling free was growing. By the time he was finished it would probably be large enough to fashion a whole set of wings by itself. It should have been impossible to lose so many feathers regularly and still have so many left, but logic didn’t seem to apply.

“You still stare,” Garona said. It wasn’t - exactly - challenging. But neither had her first statement been, either, despite the words.

“Look,” Khadgar said, apparently ignoring the repeated implication of desire. “I just wondered if you wanted a hand with your wings.”

Lothar raised his head to look at him. That was… forward.

Garona was frowning, looking between Khadgar and her own wings. They… should have been beautiful. They were an iridescent green colour, even more striking than her skin. But they were ruffled and patchy, missing feathers and the long primaries on the right had clearly been cut so she couldn’t fly. Lothar had itched to preen them, too, when he’d helped her armour up. But unlike some people he had a sense of decorum and knew which lines not to cross. Though at least Khadgar didn’t have the dubious power difference - technically he and Garona were both Lothar’s prisoners, though neither of them acted like it.

“You do that for each other?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Khadgar said and Lothar had to give him credit for keeping a straight face at such a blatant lie.

“Family, usually,” he corrected, because help was all well and good but it helped nothing to give Garona the wrong impression.

“Usually, yeah,” Khadgar agreed. “But in Dalaran we all helped each other.”

Maybe not a lie after all, then. Light, now Lothar had to imagine dozens of little mage children all trying to preen each other because they had no parents. As if it hadn’t been bad enough already. Was it better or worse than wondering if Garona had ever had anyone help her? Had ever, even, known how to do this herself?

“It’s hard to do it all by yourself,” Khadgar went on, earnestly. “You can’t really reach properly, especially the ones on your back.”

Garona lifted her chin, just slightly, like a challenge. Like she might have bee wary, but wasn’t going to let it stop her. “Yes,” she said.

Khadgar brightened, and moved around the fire to sit down in front of her, slightly off center. It wasn’t usual practice, but it was probably safer and kinder than trying to sit behind her. He stretched his own wing out and tilted forward, bent flat until it lay in her lap. Garona twitched her wings out, hesitantly, like it wasn’t a motion she was practiced with.

“Wings pick up an awful lot of dirt and dust,” Khadgar said, gently starting to shift the outer feathers. “And they’re pretty easy to bend and break. So you want to clean them out and make sure they’re lying smoothly-” He sounded normal, like it wasn’t the first time he’d had to explain wing care to someone. Lothar hadn’t been that eloquent when he’d been trying to teach Callan and his son had learnt mostly by example.

Garona started to carefully mirror him, sharp tipped fingers gently carding through the grey feathers in her lap. Lothar, feeling strangely like he was supervising, left them to it and went back to his own wings.

“What do you do with them?” Garona asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “The feathers?”

“Whatever you like,” Khadgar asked, blinking up at her. “Some people just throw them out. Some keep them - make things. Jewelry, clothes, blankets.”

Cally had done that. She’d come from a poorer family than him, had been used to making do with shed feathers for warm cloaks and quilts. She’d been fascinated with his, even when he’d reminded her that if she no longer needed it - that if she was cold they could have fur or thick woven cloth. She’d stitched her wedding dress with his feathers, had worn one of his primaries in her hair - it had stuck up ridiculously, so high she hadn’t been able to walk through the church doors without bending it.

“I have seen people wearing them,” Garona said. “For Orcs, they would be trophies of things killed. But your queen wears her mates feather in her hair and it did not seem likely.”

“Yeah,” Khadgar said, a little uncomfortable with that, “that’s pretty common. People swapping feathers when they’re married. Not just married people - friends. Or, I don’t know, just if you find a pretty feather. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

They kept going and switched wings. Lothar was pleased to see how much better Garona looked, with her feathers neatly aligned and their iridescence vibrant.

“Want me to do your back?” Khadgar asked. “Or you do mine first? I know I’ve got a few bent feathers there.”

He turned, wings spreading outwards to show off the wing joint. Even from a distance Lothar could pick out a few spots of trouble - the problem was, unless you wanted to wear a backless shirt, you had to put up with fabric rubbing at the joint, which tended to bend the feathers out of shape. And those were the ones most difficult to reach. Garona’s hands were tentative as she tried to help, but Khadgar couldn’t exactly point things out to her, though he was twisting his neck over his shoulder to try.

Lothar sighed. “This one,” he said, rising and moving closer, slowly enough that if Khadgar had any objection - any at all - he’d have time enough to voice it. There was none. He reached out, uncomfortably aware of what he was doing, and guided Garona’s hands. The feathers here were soft and small, almost downy. It had been a long time since he’d done this for anyone.

One of the longer outer feathers was crooked, and Lothar tried to straighten it, fingers finding the bend. The shaft was cracked, bruised black where the blood had pooled and stopped. He considered it, then plucked it loose.

“Hey!” Khadgar yelped, more startled than hurt.

But Garona drew back, just a fraction. “Why did you do that?” she asked.

Lothar nearly gave a very sarcastic reply, but remembered her own bare wings just in time and felt only vaguely ashamed. “Broken feathers don’t heal,” he said. “And damaged flight feathers are dangerous. If they give out while you’re in the air, you’re in trouble.”

He dropped the feather and stepped back, retreating to his spot. And it was a retreat.

Khadgar picked up the feather and inspected it. Then he wiggled it, right in Garona’s face. She bit at it, almost reflexively, and then glared at him. As offended as - well, as a cat that had ended up with a mouthful of feather.

“It’s not a nice one, but you can have it,” Khadgar said, once he’d stopped laughing. “If you like.”

Garona looked touched, though slightly dubious about the whole thing. She tucked it into her hair, though, next to the tooth comb.

Lothar went back to ignoring them, ruffling his wings to fluff the feathers up.

“You don’t offer him help?” Garona asked, with the same almost challenging chin lift.

It wasn’t really directed at him, but Lothar lifted his gaze back up, resigned to not being able to escape. Khadgar met his eyes, and his gaze was challenging. “Well, Commander?”

It had been a long time since Lothar had had anyone help him. Taria would, if he asked, but they were seldom in the same place and both were busy people.

But it seemed strange to decline after reassuring Garona that it was normal.

“Knock yourself out,” Lothar said. And if he extended his wing fast enough - hard enough - to smack into Khadgar and send him staggering back a step, well. Such things happened.

The glare Khadgar gave him said he knew they happened on purpose.

It had only been a gentle nudge compared to the force Lothar could have put into his wings. They were large and powerful things, weapons in their own right. Where some people could barely carry themselves - and some simply couldn’t - Lothar could fly for miles fully armed and armoured. And more importantly, he’d been able to carry Callan in flight right up until his sons fledgling wings had come in and he’d been able to fly on his own.

anonymous asked:

Oh no :( yelling? Did u all have an argument?

[We did. It was over something silly - I forgot to finish setting up the Solar Heater when we made camp for the night, so we didn’t have enough energy for a hot meal. And when I went to grab a Moon Bar instead, Zero had apparently lost count that day, and eaten my share.]

[So faced with cold curry for dinner and a chilly night ahead, we had a fight. I raised my voice, and he raised his. I got upset because being yelled at reminded me of unhappier times, and seeing me upset reminded Z of something bad he couldn’t quite recall.]

[It wasn’t the first time we’d been annoyed at each other, but after that, we decided then and there to cut the expedition short. We’ve at least mapped that area now, though, so we know where to cross Open Space to get back… ]

[Several months into Percy’s disappearance, Annabeth has encountered a strange, unfriendly version of her mother reading a subway map.]

Annabeth(Pleading): Mom, Athena, please- I know you’re angry, but you can’t take this out on the Romans. We need them. We won’t win this war without them!

Athena(Disgusted): The Romans? You’re concerned about them? Is what they did to me not enough to make you see the evil they are capable of? What of the hundreds of your brothers and sisters they murdered when the camps last met? 

Annabeth: Nobody was innocent. We killed thousands of their campers then, too. Mom, I’m begging you, I know what they did to you was wrong, but you’re the goddess of wisdom- you of all people, you HAVE to understand-

Athena(Enraged): Do not to presume to tell me what I must understand! You claim to be my daughter? Prove it. You WILL go on my quest. You WILL avenge me. And you WILL see that Rome falls.

[Athena turns her attention back to the subway map. Annabeth grabs her arm]

Annabeth(On the brink of tears): If we can’t unite the camps, everything you and I both care about will be destroyed. So for once in your very long life, would you please JUST LISTEN TO ME?!

[Athena slaps her hand away. Annabeth flinches]

Athena(Voice cold): You’ve thrown in your lot with them. You are no child of mine.

You know the “there’s only one bed” trope in fanfiction?

Well once time my friend and I turned up at a hotel we’d booked and, yep, there was only one bed. we asked at the desk if we could move to a twin room, but they didn’t have any twin rooms. They didn’t have any camping beds.

She slept on the floor. XD

We did talk about bed sharing, and it was more to do with the fact I had put my back out, and she wriggles like hell, that she offered to take the floor. She made a bed out of pillows, blankets and slept better than I did cause I spent the entire time in fucking agony.


I shall name this post: Quest Adventures ft. Dat Treb. 

Transporting our trebuchet to quest this year took a lot of effort and about 9 hours of driving on my part, and the first time I’ve ever driven a trailer. In the end our camp was never even sieged and we never got to use her in battle. I like to think that it was the threat of coming under siege by our treb that acted as a deterrent and thus we were never attacked. We did however give her a few test fires. I helped load and fire her the first few times, but once she was under control I ran to catch the ammo in my helmet/hat for fun. I’d like to say I totally caught a few but I barely came close! Although, @theprohobby did manage to catch a pretty awesome shot of me trying. 

P.S. Camping is not very forgiving on my hair :/

Where are all the Muslimah Lumberjanes?

In the most recent issue of the all-ages feminist comic Lumberjanes, we see our first appearance of a girl wearing hijab at camp. Which is awesome! So why did it take so long?

Our unnamed hijabi appears in issue no. 25. Why did it take over two years for a comic which unabashedly celebrates diversity and representation, to represent a religion that encompasses nearly a billion people?

HERE’S OUR THEORY: We’ve been there all along!

When our unnamed hijabi appears in this scene, all of the campers are looking up at the mail man waiting for their letters. Aside from very specific and uncommon moments like these, the camp is a girls-only space. SO. Any girl who observes hijab would be free to let her hair down in the day-to-day, and then when the occasional man shows up (such as Mail Day), she could then choose to cover. It fits to the story, is a natural moment to come up, and maybe (just mayyybe) is a dedication to good storytelling and representation rather than a pushing-aside of representation for our ppl. 

Also OBVIOUSLY not all Muslim women wear hijab! So OBVIOUSLY we’re everywhere. Our editor here headcanons Mal as Irani (and maybe pesters the LJ creative team all the time about making it canon [sorry, Boom! Studios…]). But wearing hijab is one of an infinite number of ways to “be Muslim”.

What we’d really like to see, is a few Lumberjanes praying together in a scene somewhere. COMIC UNIVERSE GET ON THIS PLZ.

It honestly hurts and scares me how I heard a group of kids talking about putting specifically the Muslim refugees into concentration camps. How did it get this far how did we let hate over power the love. How did we let this “man” bring out the worst in us. This is the land of the free unless you’re anything other than a white rich Christan male.

Okay! So, we had a dance – which was pretty great – but why haven’t we had a sleep over? I mean, come on! Just us, no boys? It’s a typical camp activity. We can do our makeup and hair and play around in clothes like they did in those eighties movies. And, since we did have the dance first, we can talk about any crushes I just know some of you have. You think it’s a good idea, don’t you? Who should we invite? Or, should it just be us – we could become best friends!”

Cabin 12– 1%

Cabin 12

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but momma knows best.” My mother told me as we drove down the freeway towards the place i’ve been dreading since May.

“I know you have good intentions, momma, but was it really necessary to send me to a so-called behavioral camp?” I said, gathering my headphones and phone charger and putting them in my new purse.

“Did you forget what you did?” She asked, slowing down as we descended a hill.

“Okay, so a girl breaks into a school system to change her grades to please her perfect parents and she’s suddenly branded for life?” I exasperated.

“Maybe if you were actually home to help me with school, I wouldn’t have felt the need to deface school property.” I said. She rolled her eyes and pulled into the turn towards the camp.

“It’s only a little over three weeks, hon. You’ll be fine.” She said as she pulled up to the loading zone, behind some other cars. She helped me unload all my bags, my white converse high-tops digging into the auburn dirt as I walked. My white Hollister booty-shorts contrasted nicely against my semi-tan skin. I bent over to fix my shoelaces, shivering slightly. Thank god I wore my Gryffindor sweater, I thought to myself.

“Hey baby, are you wearing space pants, cause that ass is out of this world!” A strange, but very attractive boy yelled at me across the loading zone.

“No, they’re baseball pants, because this ass is out of your league.” I shouted back. His friends yelled and shook him, causing him to grimace and cuss them out. How cliche.

“Nice.” My mom said as she high-fived me. I stifled the smile that was attempting to shine through. I ran my fingers through my long blonde hair, the small pieces of black showing with my curls.

“Well,” My mom sighed. “I guess this is it.” She said. I could feel the burn in my nose and eyes, dear god, please don’t let me cry.

“It’s okay, mommy, I’ll see you in a few weeks, and i’ll call you every night.” I said. She nodded and wiped her tears, before pecking my forehead.

“I love you, Nova. Be on your best behavior. Don’t forget your please and thank you’s!” My mom yelled. I smiled and waved at her, before walking into the main foyer.

“Welcome! I am Alaska, and that is my husband Jack.” She smiled, gesturing to the man across the room.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Nova.” I smiled. She shook my hand, her dazzling wedding ring catching my eye.

“Oh my god, is that Tiffany?” I whispered, eyeing it closer. “Sorry, I love designer.” I laughed. She laughed with me, before nodding.

“Yes, actually. My husband has good taste.” She smiled. She gave me a map of the camp, circling which cabin was mine. After listening to Alaska and Jack list off the rules to my fellow campmates, we all left to go find out cabins.

I was the first one to make it to our cabin, so I was the first one to pick which bunk I wanted. Hellz yes. I picked the lower bunk 3 feet away from the corner, the window aligned with the foot of my bed. I quickly made the bed with my bedding from home, then started to make my nook in the corner.

“What’re you doing?” A girl startled me by saying.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Vivian.” She smiled, bringing me in for a hug.

“I’m Nova.” I smiled. Her eyes glistened at my name.

“Oh my god, I love astrology. That’s amazing.” She smiled. She picked the bunk parallel to mine, making her bed too.

“Now really though, what’re you doing?” She asked me. I explained what I was doing, showing her how to make the perfect nook.

I took the flat pillows off the bed and threw them on the floor of my nook, placing several blankets and pillows over them.

“And.. there you have it. A place to lounge in for netflix marathons or studying.” I said. By the time the nook was done, The cabin was mostly full. The girl on the bunk on top of me’s name was Alice, the one above Viv’s name was Ryan. We all got along wonderfully, until the last girl stalked in. Her hair was borderline fried and frizzy, up in a loose bun. She had make up caked across her face, her skin an ungodly orange color. Her eyelashes were about ready to crack off with the amount of mascara she had on, her cheap perfume lingering in the air of the cabin.

She took the top bunk of the last bunkbed, immediately whipping her phone out to check her lipstick. She crumpled up a paper and threw it on the floor, landing under my bunk. Alice, Vivian, Ryan and I all made eye contact. I steadily reached under my bunk and grabbed the crumpled up paper, slowly and quietly un-crumpling it.


• Campers must participate in ALL activities, unless a written note or phone-call from Parent/Guardian excusing it.

• Campers are expected to be respectful and courteous to all campers, staff, as well as others at Camp Thunder.

• Absolutely no physical or verbal altercations with fellow campers or staff. Fighting, the use of offensive language or any other inappropriate behavior will not be tolerated, and the camper’s parent will be notified immediately.

• Bullying of any kind will not be tolerated. This includes any intentional written, verbal, or physical act intended to harm another camper.

• All apparel may not have inappropriate language or graphics on them.

•Cell phones, iPods, iPads, or other electronic devices are not allowed during camp activities, but are allowed after hours. Cell phones may be used during bus rides and field trips. Camp Thunder is not responsible for lost or stolen electronics.

Camp Thunder is not responsible for any lost or stolen items.


Please remind your teen that as the oldest campers, they are often looked onto as role models by other campers. In order to provide a safe and fun environment for all campers, all rules and regulations must be followed. The Camp Director has the right to take disciplinary action if rules are not followed. Parents or guardians will be notified either during or after the camp day, and all infractions will be written and recorded. After two verbal warnings, the camper will have the choice to follow the rule or be dismissed from camp either for the day or for the duration of the week, a refund will not be given.
A zero tolerance policy is enforced in regard to bullying as well as other acts of aggression. Fighting, hitting, or physical altercations of any kind will result in the camper/campers being separated and removed from the camp group until a parent or guardian can pick them up, a refund will not be given. //

‘Fuck That’ was written across the rules with a red marker. I rolled my eyes and showed it to the other girls, whom were now sitting on my bunk.

ALL CAMPERS REPORT TO DINING HALL.” A voice said over the P.A. System. I applied some bronzer under my cheekbones, some more lipstick, and fluffed my curls before spritzing some Pure Seduction and Passion Struck from Victoria’s Secret on before walking to the dining hall.

“I wasn’t lying you know.” The same boy from earlier said in my ear.

“I don’t take cat calling as a compliment.” I said, looking ahead of me. He jumped in front of me, forcing me to stop walking.

“I’m Cameron.” He smiled, his tan hand reaching out to shake mine. I carefully placed my hand in is, a smirk on his face as he bright my hand to his lips.

“Nova.” I said. He dropped my hand and continued walking with me, his hand dangerously close to my butt.

We talked about our lives, what we enjoy doing, his being more inappropriate than mine. We walked into the dining hall, him pulling me down at a table with his friends. Ryan, Viv, and Alice sat down at the same table, as Cameron introduced everyone.

“Welcome, Campers!” Jack’s voice boomed throughout the dining hall.

“My name is Jack, my wife Alaska, my daughter Jasmine,” He said, pointing to a girl sitting at my table. Her curly dirty-blonde hair went to her waist, a younger looking boy sitting next to her.

“My son Noah.” He pointed to the boy next to Jasmine. He looked about 11 or 12, his dirty blonde hair in a small quiff. After telling us the rules once again, they gave us the lists of each groups and who’s with who, the groups different than our room-mates. Unfortunately for me, I was grouped with Cameron, Eliza, a boy named Shawn, Lana, and Nate. We all met with our group instructor, Ed, at the end of the grassy hill, a bushy plain full of long slim trees, cables dangling from the trees.

“Today, we are zip-lining. Well– sort of, it’s more of cable walking.” He spoke in his thick British accent, the sound near soothing. His hair a bright orange color, the scruff lining his face short but styled.

“Alright, get your gear on.” He said and gestured to the multiple vests and helmets on the ground in crates. I pulled the vest over my head attempted to hook the back.

“Let me get that for you.” Cameron spoke in a low voice, his warm breath puffing onto my neck, his left hand on my hip and his right hooking the back of the vest. He squeezed my hip once before letting go, the burn still present on my skin. My cheeks heated up as I bit my lip, the helmet loose on my head, Cameron’s large fingers adjusting the plastic hook on the helmet to make it tighter, his eyes locked on my mine the entire time. He winked as he dropped his hands back to his sides, Ed’s facetious tone booming between the trees.

“Hands to yourself, you horny little shit.” He laughed and smacked Cameron’s shoulder as we headed towards the trees. Ed rambled on and on about the safety and rules of climbing, Cameron’s hand discretely slipping into my back packet. He put a folded piece of paper in it, before catching up with Nate.

After a long day full of zip–lining, I laid on the bunk and cuddled my WSU blanket, lulling myself to sleep thinking about plump lips and long fingers.