#divicamped

❝  david.  ❞  god,  he  never  noticed  how  quickly  the  counselor  moves  from  place  to  place  until  now  —  max  doesn’t  want  to  confront  him  before  every  single  camper,  but  cornering  him  when  he’s  alone  is  practically  impossible.  it’s  been  a  couple  days  since  he  came  back,  &  he’s  trying  to  act  normal  ...  but  max  can  tell  there’s  something  wrong.  he  saw  how  hysterical  the  guy  was  that  first  morning,  &  he  doesn’t  seem  to  be  getting  any  more  calm.  max  hardly  ever  feels  so  concerned  about  anyone  or  anything,  but  this  is  the  same  pit  in  his  stomach  he  had  right  before  david  had  been  knocked  out  by  that  bonfire  he  couldn’t  start,  &  max  absolutely  despises  it.  he  wants  to  help,  he  just  ...  isn’t  very  good  at  it.

finally,  he  has  the  counselor’s  attention  —  &  it’s  just  the  two  of  them,  alone  in  the  mess  hall.  david  looks  like  he’d  been  a  second  away  from  walking  out  the  front  door,  whilst  max  is  sitting  down  at  the  nearest  table.  (  he’d  planned  this,  of  course,  however  poorly.  )  the  boy’s  stare  is  even,  if  not  worried,  as  he  eyes  david.  small  fists  clench  &  unclench  nervously  at  his  sides.  he  knows  david  can  be  a  little  dense  sometimes,  so  it’s  a  good  thing  being  upfront  is  his  forte  ...  er,  it  usually  is,  at  least.

❝  what  happened  to  you?  ❞

this  isn’t  the  worst  part  of  town,  but  it  certainly  isn’t  a  good  part,  either.  at  a  glance,  every  alleyway  might  look  the  same,  but  they  certainly  aren’t  —  different  places  are  known  for  different  things,  &  every  crevice  in  the  city  has  its  own  reputation.  homeless  people  might  populate  one  place,  or  another  may  be  so  full  of  feral  cats  that  no  one  bothers  doing  anything  there.  &  then  there  are  the  places  where  you  go  for  drugs,  the  meeting  points  that  have  been  memorized  by  those  in  the  business  —  frequently  changing  so  no  one  gets  caught,  but  still  consistent  enough  that  you  always  know  where  the  deal  will  take  place.

tonight,  a  junkie  waits  anxiously  near  the  mouth  of  one  alleyway,  looking  ragged  as  he  leans  against  the  rough  bricks  &  not  caring  if  he  rubs  against  old  graffiti.  it’s  been  too  long  since  his  last  hit,  &  he’s  even  more  on  edge  than  usual,  shifting  &  regarding  the  world  with  suspicion  as  he  waits  for  his  dealer  to  show  up.  paranoia  explains  his  jumpiness,  his  decision  to  fear  the  first  person  who  comes  too  close  to  him.  a  step  into  the  alleyway,  intentional  or  otherwise,  &  as  soon  as  he  realizes  it’s  no  one  he  knows,  he  assumes  he’s  being  confronted  by  a  cop.  he  panics  —  there  are  so  many  thoughts  &  fears  in  his  head,  but  the  first  thing  he  does  is  pull  a  glock,  hand  shaking  wildly  (  but  not  wildly  enough  that  the  stranger  is  safe  )  as  he  takes  aim,  holding  the  tall  man  at  gunpoint.

     “Back to your post,” Quartermaster had casually instructed him earlier in the day. While David was grateful the old man was there to take over his duties, it was clear from the lack of discussion following the instruction that QM didn’t much care to wait any longer to hand the duties over. ‘Or maybe QM just trusts I’m well enough to handle it,’ David thinks optimistically.

     With a sigh, he resigns to his evening chore. David spritz’s some mosquito repellent on his arms and legs, the weight he puts on his right leg is significantly lesser than his left. He’d done a fine job mending it to walk again, but if he applies pressure in a certain way, he does feel a sharp pain. Careful, then, extra careful these nights. As he picks up the lantern sitting on his desk, he turns to smile and wave at his co-counselor.

With devastating ACCURACY, Mortimer smacks David’s hand away, scowl present. “If you’d check, I’m not even APART OF THIS CAMP.” Mortimer honestly didn’t want to resort to having to call SYLVIE. Her collar had a portal maker on it regardless, but the sight of a giant, spiky alien might scare the SOULS out of some people here.

But he will if he HAS TO.

I like this season too! it just doesn’t feel like a camp camp season, fi you get what I mean? 

i am thoroughly biased when i say season 2 was the best. I judge most of the seasons that come afterwards to this standard. Yeah The Forest was intense. but did it compare to when you felt the emotional climax of parents day when max’s file was blank?? David making the conscious decision to choose max over the camp? Did the lesson of “you deserve to be happy’ not make you bawl like a baby? 

There’s NOTHING worse than working minimum wage.

...

Well, that’s not quite true. You could be unemployed, living off hundreds of thousands of dollars of stolen and inherited blood money, only to inevitably arouse suspicion amongst the locals of a shit-town in the middle of god knows where about how you got so much money until the local police offers an investigation and subsequently lock you up for 19 consecutive life sentences.

That’s a little worse, fine.

But even though Jen usually adores her job in this coffee shop, today has been slow. She adores the morning rush, the hustle and bustle of people with places to go and people to see and overpriced coffee to drown their sorrows in. You really get a good look at who people really are when you catch them before they’ve had their caffeine, and the pure unadulterated misery in their eyes is just delightful!

But today has been slow. So, she bides her time, poured over the closest thing she can get to a Cosmopolitan magazine - the Sleepy Peak Gazette.

When the door opens she hardly even looks up, too busy reading about some escaped lunatic from a few towns over. Not even front page, what an amateur.

unprompted  ask  from  @divicamped.

the  praise,  sudden  &  seemingly  out  of  the  blue,  causes  harrison’s  eyes  widen  in  wonder.  he’s  not  the  most  expressive  camper  by  a  long  shot,  but  he’s  certainly  not  void  of  emotion,  &  it’s  moments  like  this  where  one  is  reminded  that  he’s  still  just  a  kid.  ❝  thank  you,  david.  i  will!  ❞  when  was  the  last  time a  person  complimented  him  on  his  magic?  or  anything  else,  for  that  matter  …  his  parents  say  nice  things  sometimes,  but  he  can  tell  they  don’t  ever  mean  it  —  they  flatter  him  because  they’re  scared  of  what  he  might  do  if  they  don’t,  &  that  just  makes  it  hurt  all  the  more.  david’s  praise  isn’t  so  tainted:  harrison  can  tell  he  means  what  he  says,  &  that  makes  the  boy’s  heart  soar.  ❝  i  couldn’t  have  improved  so  much  without  a  counselor  like  you.  ❞  aww.

when  max  is  quieter  than  usual,  it  makes  a  big  difference  in  the  atmosphere  at  dinner.  even  after  living  with  gwen  &  david  for  a  while,  he’s  always  full  of  attitude  &  has  a  limitless  supply  of  sarcastic  remarks  (  although,  he’s  definitely  not  as  angry  or  mean  as  he  used  to  be,  &  he’s  been  working  on  not  lashing  out.  )  tonight  is  one  of  those  rare  nights  where  he  hasn’t  said  much  of  anything  at  all  —  he’s  just  poking  at  his  dinner  with  a  fork,  not  even  bothering  to  taste  it,  while  david  &  gwen  discuss  something  mundane.

he  isn’t  sure  why  he’s  so  nervous  ...  okay,  well,  he  is  sure,  but  he’s  still  surprised  by  how  quickly  his  heart  is  racing  in  his  chest.  he’s  already  chickened  out  of  this  a  couple  times  now,  but  he  can’t  do  that  forever.  once  again,  he’s  arguing  with  himself  about  it  in  his  head  —  &  then  there’s  a  lapse  in  the  conversation,  &  max  finds  himself  dropping  his  fork  so  the  clatter  gets  everyone  else’s  attention,  speaking  before  he  can  do  so  much  as  think.  ❝  can  i  talk  to  you  guys  about  something?  ❞  oh,  shit,  now  they’re  looking  at  him.  can  he  really  go  through  with  this?  max  is  starting  to  feel  sick,  so  he  leans  back  &  drinks  some  of  his  water,  not  looking  right  at  david  or  gwen.  ❝  uh  ...  it’s  nothing  bad.  ❞  he  hopes.