#but second time through I'll read along with the lyrics

[invisibleraven]

Hey, #7 soulmate au is DEVASTATING sooooo

peterpatterlina

Some of the first words every child learned to read were the ones printed on their skin-the last words their soulmate would ever say to them. A bit morbid, and no one really thought it best system to find a soulmate, but it was all they had.

Reggie Peters was lucky enough to have two soulmates-though that meant losing the love of his life twice, he figured that at least he wouldn't be alone. Or at least he hoped.

He traced the sentences that floated over his arms over and over until he knew them by heart.

Cariño.../I'll be waiting

The first he found out was a Spanish term of endearment, one he loved and couldn't wait to meet the person who was going to use it. The second made him a little melancholic, but it also meant he would also have a romantic soul to love.

He met Luke in college, they ended up as roommates, and bonded immediately. They loved the same music, even if Luke wasn't into country. They jammed late into the night, bonding over items of childhood nostalgia and parental troubles alike.

He saw Luke's marks early on, for he constantly wore cut offs and the sentences were scrawled along his ribs.

Maybe we can jam together in heaven?/It's okay, we'll be alright, you can go mi vida

Reggie had to hold back a squee at that, because Luke also had a soulmate who spoke Spanish-could they be the same person? Could Luke be one of his?

They started hooking up one drunken night, and decided to keep it up, developing feelings along the way, deciding to make it official upon graduating when Luke confessed he never wanted to stop living with-and loving Reggie.

They never really talked about the marks-it was a depressing thought, something that couldn't be confirmed until they broke up, or worse-when one of them died. For now they were happy, and that was enough.

They began working as session musicians at a studio, with Luke writing a few songs that got bought helping him get closer to his dream of being a real musician.

They met Alex there, the session drummer who got on with them like a house on fire, and Luke proposed starting a band, all three of them. Give them a chance to perform, maybe be the ones recording their own stuff instead of supporting the latest craze who had AI generated lyrics and next to no musical talent.

However it was through the studio that they met Julie-she was an intern there doing backing vocals for the odd song. And she was good.

"Why aren't you using those pipes to make your own music?" Luke asked her one night as they were all packing up.

"Haven't found my sound yet," she replied with a shrug. "Happy to be in the background until I do."

"Why don't you check out our band?" Reggie offered. "Might be fun to have another vocalist and I know you play a killer piano."

She smirked at that. "I could be persuaded."

Julie joined their relationship soon after that-with lots of conversation beforehand-coming to a head after a long band practice on the hottest day of the year. One that involved them needing to clean the couch in their small studio, lest Alex kill them-though he eye rolled at them the next day, muttering about 'Finally'.

Reggie loved worshipping the marks on Julie-they lined her hips, so he traced them with tongue filled kisses, Luke doing the same until Julie was a whimpering mess between them.

But what about you?/I love you darlin'

The darlin' left little doubt in Reggie's mind-his southern twang didn't come out much, but always made an appearance when granting pet names-Luke was already beau to Reggie. Luke teased him with French pet names, insisting that being called a little cabbage was totally romantic. Julie lucked out in mon cher in Reggie's estimation.

The years passed quickly and at a snail's pace at the same time. They became rising stars, international sensations and passé over several decades. Yet they were always together, there for each other, loving one another and their family.

Yet... well they were getting on in years, though none of them wanted to admit it. Luke in particular refused to act his age-something that proved his downfall, after he fell off a stage, breaking his hip in the process.

Though they had the best doctors, Luke declined fast, his body too frail to recover. The end was upon them, and after the children and grandchildren had said their goodbyes, it left Julie and Reggie.

There were tears all around, with Luke trying to joke, but his once powerful voice was faded to almost nothing. Reggie turned and he knew the next words to come out of his mouth-they had been printed on Luke's side for as long as he had been alive.

"Maybe we can jam together in heaven?" he joked despite the tears almost blinding him.

"I'll be waiting," Luke rasped, a smile painting his aged features. He then turned to Julie. "But what about you?"

Julie sobbed, but then clutched his hands. "It's okay, we'll be alright, you can go mi vida."

With that, Luke slipped away, leaving them to cry and clutch at one another, finally knowing the truth, too late to share the fact that they were meant to be together. But maybe Luke knew-he had seen their marks a million times over the years, so maybe it gave him the solace to go, knowing he had spent his long life with them.

They got along after that as best they could, though it always felt like there was something missing-reaching out in vain for Luke.

Then Julie got sick-she thought it was a cold at first, brushing it off. But after she didn't get better, they went to the doctor.

A terminal diagnosis.

"You can't leave me," he begged Julie that night. "I can't bare it."

"You can, and will," Julie insisted. "You're so strong, and we'll be reunited eventually."

Reggie stayed by her side through every chemo session, any effort to prolong Julie's life, however fruitless. Watching her white curls fall out, her already dainty figure shrinking.

"No more," Julie insisted after a few months of it. "I'm ready Reggie."

"I'm not," he said, kissing her palm. "But it's not about me."

One night as they slid into bed, Reggie knew-deep down in his soul that he would be waking up alone.

"I love you darlin'."

Julie's eyes welled with tears. "Cariño..."

He shook his head, resting their foreheads together and kissing her sweetly. Just held her tight as they slept, feeling her grow cold sometime in the night, and he calmly called for the ambulance.

He had her buried next to Luke, a space bracketing him for Reggie. He went on as he must, but his heart wasn't in it. He tried, for Danny and Luna, for their broods, but he knew life was gray and meaningless without Luke and Julie.

So he let himself grieve, growing even older, until one night-the night he knew he would give up. Tucking himself into the too big bed, closing his eyes and smiling for the first time in forever.

"I'm coming sweetie pies, I'm coming."

[fox-bee926]

Mmmmm might be controversial but first listen through unreal unearth i wasnt the biggest fan? I mean i felt the same about the EP at first and then absolutely loved them. But my heart will always be Wasteland Baby.

[asteracaea]

i think i'd like to experience fiona and alanis' music by listening to their records as if they were brand new taylor swift albums

[the-hovel-of-a-nerdy-rabbit]

Muriel's playlist hints at Ineffable Juniors?

(This is all in good fun and is just my opinion. You don't have to agree, but please stay and read.)

I know a lot of people have analyzed the living crap out of Aziraphale's and Crowley's playlists, but I really just want to ask if anyone ever wondered about why Muriel received these three songs?

The creators of the playlist knew that other feel-good, peppy songs that start their songs with the letter E and L exist, but they picked three songs that deal with love? All that does to me is make me think that Ineffable Juniors (Muriel x Eric) is in the realm of possibility and not just a crack ship.

Let me just get 'Everyday' out the way. (I'll be more in depth lyrically with the other two, but EVERYONE in this fandom has Everyday practically memorized. I'm just saving time and space.) 'Everyday' is the main song of the S2. It is the clue. It is the jumpstart of Ineffable Bureaucracy's relationship. It is THEIR song of love. It wouldn't make sense for them not to have it in their playlist, but why does Muriel have it? Of all the other characters who are in love, why does Muriel have to be the one to receive this song as well? They deal with concept of love, but they don't truly understand it (if they did why would they need to 'learn' from Aziraphale and Crowley). This wouldn't make sense unless this is more of a hint at Muriel's (possible) future storyline: befriending or falling in love with a demon (likely Eric). 'Everyday' is important because it helped blossom a very unlikely relationship between an angel (Gabriel) and a demon (Beelzebub). For Muriel to have that in their playlist in that context pushes their narrative in that direction, and it doesn't help that the other two songs are just pushing it further.

'Ain't No Mountain High Enough' (shortening to ANMHE for my typing sanity) is a classic love song sung by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. It brings this idea of being invincible while traversing (or willing to traverse) through any terrain to get to the one you love. This is driven home by the first and third verses along with the repeating chorus of the song:

(First) If you need me, call me

No matter where you are

No matter how far (don't worry, baby)

Just call my name

I'll be there in a hurry

You don't have to worry

'Cause baby there

(Third verse) Oh no, darling

No wind, no rain

Or winters cold

Can't stop me baby

No, no baby

'Cause your are my goal

If you're ever in trouble

I'll be there on the double

Just send for me

Oh, baby

(Chorus) Ain't no mountain high enough

Ain't no valley low enough

Ain't no river wide enough

To keep me from getting to you, baby

What I think is interesting is second and last verse because you get to see the relationship of the two people in the song (the couple singing to each other). In the second verse, it's revealed that the two of them are loving/binding relationship by recounting a day that defined their relationship.

Remember the day

I set you free

I told you

You could always count on me darling

From that day on I made a vow

I'll be there when you want me

Someway, somehow

Then the last verse brings up the fact that two are now separated but are still in love and WILL go through anything to get back to the other if they're ever needed.

My love is alive

Way down in my heart

Although we are miles apart

If you ever need a helping hand

I'll be there on the double

Just as fast as I can

I could easily say that this could allude to Muriel having a strained or forbidden relationship with a character, yet something else was brought to my attention. ANMHE tells about a pair who is separated after making a connection/promise to one another while still having romantic feelings, but if one were to be in trouble, the other would surely come to the rescue? I don't know about you guys, but that sounds a lot like our other angel/demon couple, the Ineffable Husbands. Now, we have two songs defining both of our canon angel/demon relationships in a playlist for an angel who hasn't even experienced falling/being in love yet, but this final song clenches everything for me.

Every Summertime by Niki is the song that TRULY made me believe in the idea of Ineffable Juniors. I have played it several times and every time I do, I see Muriel and Eric. Let's begin with the first verse:

18, we were undergrads

Stayed out late, never made it to class,

Outer Richmond in a taxi cab

You were sweating bullets on the way to my dad's and oh

You said, "Baby, think we're moving too fast"

The very beginning gives an image of two students (underlings: 37th Scrivner and lesser demon) who are together (in a buddy/soft couple way), but incompetent (Muriel not understanding certain concepts thus proceeding to mess things up and Eric constantly questioning things while also being a punching bag and cowardly). It's only the first two lines and it already screams Ineffable Juniors. The last two lines give scenarios that could likely happen. Eric would be the one nervous from the idea of meeting Muriel's parental figures superior Aziraphale and his demon husband Crowely. Then comes the statement of "moving too fast." Of course the first thing that comes to mind is the 1967 scene in S1, "You go to fast for me, Crowley", yet in the eyes of our juniors, it would be in Eric's character (having more cowardice and less time to plan ahead) to say that if Muriel wanted to be closer. Then there's this imagery of how one would realize their feelings for someone is becoming more than platonic:

And I swear the magnolias flashed a smile

And that's when I caught me hoping you'd stay a while

I will say that second verse is more of "They're growing closer after a while" more than picturing scenarios like the previous verses.

25, man we're missing church

Laugh 'bout everyone we're hating at work

Dinner with your sister and the jokes kinda hurt

Cry the way home, and you're putting me first, oh

Yeah, we just always know what to say

Then we get these lines:

We're strolling down the boulevard

And dancing under streetlights

Every year we get older, and I'm still on your side

Taking a stroll? Dancing? Being on a side with your partner? This, AGAIN, creates connections to Bureaucracy and Husbands, but the couple in the song portray these actions in a setting for younger, impressionable people, hmmmm... like the Juniors? Let's just finish off with the chorus and outro.

(Chorus) Baby, I'd give up anything to travel inside your mind

Baby, I fall in love again come every summertime

My daddy taught me to choose 'em wisely, but you don't have to try

'Cause, baby, I fall in love every summertime

(Outro) Every day is summertime

Every day is summertime

Every day is summertime with you

Questions that I think about when it comes to the Juniors are "if they fell in love or became close friends, how would Aziraphale and Crowley react? Would they be happy for them, or would they try to stop them from going any further out of fear for their safety?" With what happen at the end of the season, I'm personally think it's the later, but then that brought an additional question. "If Muriel was told to stop meeting Eric, would they?" No. The third line of the chorus reminded me how Muriel knew Aziraphale and Crowley were the enemy and yet they still gave unbiased trust and compassion towards them. A low rank angel who is supposed to take every order willingly decided that the enemy is their friend that they can ask questions to. When you start to apply the first, second and last line of the chorus, along with the outro, it draws a picture of a person so smitten with their partner that every time they're with them, they fall in love all over again, so they're willing to disregard the opinions of others just to be with their other half. Muriel seeing both angel/demon couples existing in the same room in S2E6 feeds my thoughts with the image of Muriel, who may or may not know that Eric is a demon (they never met him, and they also didn't know that Crowley was a demon), proceeding to be around him even after being told not to by Aziraphale. If it was worth it for the others, it could be worth it for me.

I could be reaching with some of my claims, so I'll just continue until I reach the moon. However, it is possible for all three songs to be thrown in the playlist for fun, I mean it does have "Get Lucky" and "Everything is Awesome". I'm just a sucker for Ineffable Juniors. I don't care if they don't end up together or anything, but they have to meet at least once as another example of an angel and demon being able to get along. Stories are always played out in threes. Why can't they be the third?

Thank you for reading if you made it to the end. Here's some sketches for your troubles:

[elliespassagerprincess]

Do u think u could write an Ellie x reader story based on the song emily I’m sorry by boygenius TYSMMMMMM I LOVE UR STUFF

Emily I'm sorry - (ellie williams x reader)

hi anon! thank you sm for the compliment and also boygenius supremacy<3

This story is based off the song Emily I'm sorry by boygenius, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading... Also I did something a little different, I took inspiration from the song, so its not 100% based off song lyrics. The over all message of the song and some scenarios is in the story:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

Requests are always open feel free to leave one or just send me a song and I'll take it from there:)

Warnings: obsession, stalking, murder, violence, gore, death, toxic relationships

Summary: In which Ellie is fucking crazy

wc: 1.7K

She's asleep in the backseat

Looking peaceful enough to me

But she's waking up inside a dream

Full of screeching tires and fire

We're coming back from where no one lives

Pretty much just veterans

When I pointed out where the North Star is

She called me a fucking liar

Ellie’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. Her knuckles turned white, her shoulders were tense. She stared off into the distance thinking about the situation she found herself in. She started at him through the rear view mirror waiting to see if he would wake up, or if he was dead.

Ellie had been sitting in this abandoned parking lot for hours now. She couldn’t go back to Jackson with Jesse beat up, full of blood and possibly dead. People would ask too many questions. Questions she isn’t ready to answer. She wasn’t ready to face the consequences that were waiting for her back in Jackson.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a groan coming from behind her. Ellie looked over her shoulder and she was met with a bloodied and tied up Jesse looking back at her with tears in his eyes.

 The two started at each other in silence for a few seconds. They both waiting for the other one to say something.

And finally, finally Jesse spoke up.

“Please tell me this is a dream” he looked at Ellie eyes wide, filled with tears. Ellie felt the guilt grow in her stomach as she heard Jesse let out a whimper when she didn’t answer his question.

“Please” he asked again “Please tell me this is nightmare”

Ellie let out a shaky breath before she answered him: “no its not”

Jesse let out a loud sob at her words. Ellie turned herself away from the backseat. Her guilt was already eating her alive, but hearing Jesse fucking sob was not making it easier. Ellie’s hands met with the steering wheel again, gripping it with a tightly once again.

Ellie looked over to the passenger seat and a small smile appeared on her face for the first time that day. You always sat there. You would make stupid jokes that would make Ellie smile like an idiot, how you would always pack lunch for her and leave it on the passenger seat and leaving a note saying “your temporary princess”

fuck. She misses you.

“You’re going to kill be aren’t you?” Jesse asked from the backseat.

“Yeah” Ellie sighed “I have to”

“I won’t tell anyone about this and what you did to Dina”

“I don’t believe you”

“Ellie I know what Dina did to your girl wasn’t very nice but that didn’t mean you had to kill her- “

“Dina deserved to die” Ellie replied quickly “you deserve it too” she continued. She looked back at Jesse when he went silent. A grin appeared on Ellie’s face as she turned the key. The car rumbled underneath the two of them as Ellie asked one last question to Jesse:

 “should I slit your throat or should I shoot your brains out?”

Emily, I'm sorry I just

Make it up as I go along

And I can feel myself becoming

Someone only you could want

Ellie was sorry. She was sorry that on that one faithful night in October that she let you walk out. If she could go back in time she would. She would’ve stopped you and locked you in her apartment.

And as soon as you walked out that door Ellie didn’t hear from you again.

You and Ellie had met at a park. It was the night Cat broke up with her. Ellie remembers sitting at a bench at 3 in morning just sobbing, but then she heard your voice for the first time.

“Hey” you said softly “I don’t know if you’re drunk or if you got your heart broken but here’s a slice of bread”

 Ellie’s brows furrowed and she looked up at you: “why are you giving me one slice of bread?” she asked confused.

“well because if you’re drunk my mom said that a slice of bread will sober you up and if you’re heartbroken then it’s a snack”

Ellie cracked a smile for the first time that night. You don’t even know why you helped her that night.

Sometimes you regret giving her that stupid piece of bread.

Ever since that night you and Ellie practically became best friends. And from best friends the two of you quickly started dating. And you were happy. Both of you were.

Until you noticed Ellie’s obsessive behavior.

Sometimes when you would open the curtains in your apartment you’d see Ellie sitting on that bench staring at your place. There were times you would walk in on Ellie sniffing and sometimes stealing your clothes. You don’t know but somehow Ellie managed to go through every single one of your contacts and calling each of them to ask what their intention with you was.

You couldn’t be with someone tracks your every move, Ellie was suffocating you. And no matter much you loved her, you couldn’t do it anymore. For your own mental health and safety, you decided to leave her.

You left Ellie in October. After dating her for 7 months you couldn’t take it anymore.

Love is a beautiful thing but the longer you stayed with Ellie the more you hated the idea of being in relationship.

And even after leaving Ellie it didn’t stop. In fact, she got even worse.

You wished you never gave that slice of bread.

Headed straight for the concrete

In a nightmare, screaming

Now I'm wide awake, spiraling

And you don't want to talk

Just take me back to Montreal

I'll get a real job, you'll go back to school

We can burn out in the freezing cold

And just get lost

The obsession Ellie had with you was toxic. It was bad for her. It was bad for you.

 Drug addicts would do anything just to get money to buy more. Just get a hit. Just like Ellie would do anything to get a glimpse of you.

She followed you around. Wherever you were Ellie was.

It was a normal Tuesday for Ellie. She hid in her car watching your apartment.

She just wanted to see you. She just wanted a little peek. No matter how small, she just wanted to see.

To Ellie’s surprise she saw you dressed up, in a white pencil skirt, with a black cropped top saying I love pussy.

You walked out the house, and Ellie’s immediate instinct was to follow you.

She knew what she was doing was wrong. It was illegal. It goes against her morals but for you she would throw away everything.

 You walked into a café and Ellie followed you in, she put on sunglasses and she pulled the hood of hoodie up. Ellie sat directly behind you. She could hear everything. As you sat in the café your friend Dina showed up.

 Dina didn’t even say hi. All she did was slap you and accuse you of sleeping with her boyfriend. You didn’t even get a word in. And Dina left.

You went home crying, you sobbed for hours.

How could your best friend accuse you of such a thing?

And Ellie watched you through your window all those nights you cried. The way you beat yourself up over something you didn’t do.

Ellie knows you would never do it.

 She’s always with you, she would’ve know if you had slept with Jesse.

Ellie saw how much pain you were in and she hated it. She wanted to comfort you and tell you it’s all going to be ok. But she couldn’t. All she could do, was go to person who caused you all this pain.

She was going to make Dina feel what you were feeling.

Maybe not emotionally. But physically.

Oh, Ellie might as well pay Dina’s boyfriend a visit.

Emily, I'm sorry, baby

You know how I get when I'm wrong

And I can feel myself becoming

Somebody I'm not, I'm not, so

Emily, forgive me, can we

Make it up as we go along?

I'm twenty-seven and I don't know who I am

But I know what I want

Ellie was a bad person.

She realized she was when she put the blade between Dina’s lips and harshly pulling it that it cut her mouth open. Ellie listened to Dina’s screams. She watched Dina cry and beg for her life when Ellie hung her on the roof. She watched Dina vomit when Ellie forced her to eat raw meat.

 People shouldn’t do this to other people.

 But you were worth it.

Ellie would kill millions of people for you.

She shot Jesse in the head, execution style, as she watched a mixture of brains and blood drip from his skull.

To make things romantic she set them both on fire. They could burn in hell together forever.

Ellie made Dina feel the pain that she put you through. Dina deserved it.

Because of her love for you Ellie became the person she never wanted to be. You made her feel and do things she promised herself she would never do. She was not the sweet girl Joel raised.

It’s all for love. Ellie was doing this all for your love.

Ellie hoped you’d forgive her one day.

She hoped you would come back to her and say I miss you lets fix things.

She wished.

She knows what she wants and she wants you.

She needs you.

She needs you to be happy and safe and that why she killed Dina and Jesse. They threatened your safety. They threatened your happiness.

But little did Ellie know she was the one that sucks the joy out you. And even if she knew she would have not believed you.

Ellie was sorry for scaring you when the two of you were together. She was sorry for the time she almost killed your mom because she got too close to you. She’s sorry that she made multiple accounts on Instagram to tell people to unfollow you. She’s sorry she broke into your home that one night when you took too long to respond.

Her biggest regret was not being sneaky enough.

Emily, I'm sorry

Emily, I'm sorry

I'm sorry

“I’m sorry” Ellie spoke softly as she stood in front of your house.

Ellie doesn’t even know who she’s saying sorry to. To you? For killing your best friends? To Dina? For murdering her? To Jesse? For killing the love of his life or for killing him?

 Even though Ellie was saying sorry she didn’t mean it. The guilt she felt when she had Jesse in the car quickly fell away when she realized who she was doing this for.

Dina and Jesse were parasites. They were dirty people who did nothing but hurt other. They deserved to die. She was happy that she killed both of them. She got rid of the people who was hurting you. And she would do it again and again. You didn’t need to know what happened to them.

Ellie raised her hand to knock on your front door. She knocked 3 times before the door opened, and she was met with your sleep filled eyes.

You looked at Ellie taking in her bloody appearance, you gently shook your head before you asked her: “who did you hurt this time?”

“you don’t need to know” Ellie replied quickly as she walked into your house.

You were never getting rid of her. You knew that. You would live the rest of your life being followed by Ellie Williams. You would spend the rest of your life grieving any friendships and relationship you had. Because Ellie was the only one who stayed. Who survived.

You were Ellie’s girl. For the rest of your fucking life.

Authors note: Dude this story would actually have a good part 2 lmao but anyway remember you are loved and to always be kind.

Yours truly,

Zia<3

[this-loser]

Through the Motions

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Author's Notes: I deleted my last story. Main reason: I had no idea what I was doing and where I was going with it. I'm gonna rewrite it but it will take me some time. So I'll start this little chapter work instead. I'll be updating slow so please don't be upset. You can also read on my AO3 account! HERE is the second chapter!

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「WC: 1,464 」

「Summary: It took one mistake of going to a party and another with you being in an alley watching utter chaos unfold with a guy that's called, Red Hood.」

「Warnings: Cursing, some mentions of alcohol and drugs with slight mentions of an abuser. Nothing too in depth just minor mentions is all.」

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「Chapter 1: Two Mistakes」

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God, the music was loud. Too loud. Being able to feel the bass in your chest and body is not entirely fun, and the fact that you had only come to the party was because your best friend had guilt-tripped you into it. For now, one mistake has been made that was coming to this party.

Second mistake was about to happen in approximately 35 minutes.

Voices, men and women. Laughter and the stench of sweaty bodies close together, alcohol, and- Christ, that guy does not know how to keep his hands off that girl's ass. You bring your cup up to your mouth at the sight, mind now pulled from the depths of thought before you glance down at your drink, half tempted to chunk it at the guy and then leave. I’m going home… You thought. Quietly, you made your way past people. Sometimes, needing to push by them and given the occasional annoyed glare or scoff from someone.

It did not take long for you to make it to the kitchen, dumping your drink into the sink and then tossing the red plastic cup into the trash before rushing out of the kitchen as a woman walks in, her friend behind her, and she passes her a lighter. Really? You could hear the thought bouncing around in your head like a ball in a pinball machine, the little "ting ting" from it hitting the sides of the machine echoing in the depths of your mind.

The music started up again. Rock. Loud and causing more people to be hyped up.

Stupid Girl

The irony of the song lyrics that could be loud enough to make out. How that alone made you roll your eyes, moving past more people and unable to find your friend. Your ride for the night is now gone.

Annoyance had started to build along with a headache as you finally made it to the door of the room, grabbing the knob and twisting it open, then letting the door slam shut behind you. The loud music muffled along with all the people in that damn party. You spared a glance at the door once more before letting out an exasperated sigh then taking the stairs out of the building.

Best place to hold a party where cops or nosy people could not be found. Find a relatively quiet and isolated abandoned building in the worst part of Gotham City. No. Scratch that. Any city, but especially not Gotham.

This place was not that good. Too many wacked-out loons running around. Some dressed as clowns, a literal scarecrow, and that weird guy- Mad Hatter? Was that the name he went by? Who cares; stay away.

You shook your head as your feet hit the first floor. Somehow, you could still hear the bass from the new song playing; maybe those people needed a doctor to poke around their ears. Make sure that nobody's eardrums get busted. You crossed the room, footsteps echoing throughout the empty room before making it to the backdoor of the building, the same one you and an asshole of a friend came through.

There was practically no noise outside that could be annoying. The downtown streets busy with the nightlife of Gotham, while here in this more isolated area was the breeze and-

Your head turned to the left, eyes widening as a man was thrown, hard, against a wall. A loud cry left him as his back came in contact with said wall. He slid down the brick wall, grunting and breathing deeply, trying to regain balance.

“No, no, shitbag. You’re not passing out on me yet.” The voice carried throughout the alley before a guy took long strides to the other man. Dim lightening aside, you could at least make out his height, and this guy could easily punt you across the damn city.

Your stomach dropped, and you swallowed saliva, sweat gathering on the back of your neck. Yet your feet stayed planted on the ground. Keeping you there and forced to watch the whole scene play out.

He leaned down, grabbed the man's shirt collar, pulled him up, then slammed him against the wall. Compared to the last time, it was not as bad, but it did knock what air the man managed to catch out of him. “Keep those eyes peeled. Ears open too. I’m giving your worthless ass a chance to live,” He leans forward. The light from the street lamps made the red on his helmet noticeable. “If I ever see or hear that you can’t learn to keep your hands to yourself, then you're going to have to learn the hard way.” He reaches a hand to his side, out of your view, pulling out a pistol and pressing it against the side of the man’s head. "Ever hit your kid again, and I won’t be as merciful.”

The man struggles before going still as the gun is pressed to the side of his head. Any retort he had was gone as sweat started to roll down the side of his face before he nodded. “Okay! I-I swear! I won’t-” “Not a won’t. Make it never.” The guy interjected. “NEVER! I’ll never do it again!” The man blurts out without hesitating, voice shaky and filled with dread. “Good. Now,”

He doesn't waste another second, dragging the man off the wall then shoving him towards the alley exit. “Get your worthless ass out of my sight.” The man stumbled, nearly falling on his face but scrambling to his feet and rushing off.

You still stood there. Next to the backdoor. Eyes wide and mouth gaped open. Not only did you watch a man get the shit scared out of him, but the same guy who tossed said man now turned. He was standing straight, head facing in your direction.

You had made jokes before. A six-foot tall man is something you would swoon over, but this? Maybe under different circumstances and not in an alley while he’s still got his gun out. Well, it’s at his side but the point still stands.

There is a silence that fills the alley. And for a brief moment, you could have sworn he’s just hesitant now. Unsure of how to address the fact that you were just standing there, staring at him while he did the same. With a shake of his head, a clear sigh - what sounds like one with how scrambled his voice sounds in the helmet - as he puts the pistol back into the holster before turning his body completely to look at you. “How much…” He trails off, thinking before taking a single step forward. “Did you hear?” He took another step.

You watch. Forced to since your whole body is frozen and your feet feel like someone trapped you in cement. Your mouth moves, nothing coming out. In an instant, your body betrayed and abandoned you.

His body was tense, shoulders and upper body hunched slightly. It’s like he was getting ready to pounce at you. Whatever god was watching, if any, you were already praying to. Every fiber of your being torn between screaming at your body for being stupid and just standing there like a deer in headlights while the other was already making a last will.

“I’ll ask again,” His voice lowered. He wasn’t aiming to hurt, but simply figure out, yet that still was not comforting by any means as he took more steps to you. "I-I saw the guy fly against the wall!" You finally managed to get out, mind racing as the world was almost spinning. He stops. About less than half of the way to you and making the alley feel like it had shrunk around you and is forcing him to be closer.

It’s like he’s thinking about what to say or do next. Maybe he isn't that scary because he's just standing there. Then he straightens his stance, arms at his sides, looking at you. “What’s your name.” It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking.

Your brain short-circuited as you stare at him, bewildered.

It took you three minutes before you finally blurt out your name next. He simply stares at you before turning around, pulling out a smaller gun from the belt that hangs tightly around his waist, the ends of his jacket moving with his movements. “Go home. Last thing you need is getting into trouble.”

That’s all he said before aiming the gun at a rooftop, a hook, and line shooting from it while another line wrapped around his wrist, dragging him up from the ground floor and into the shadows of the buildings.

Second mistake of your night. Staying in the alley, then telling the guy, Red Hood, your name.

[hypersonic04]

Cosy Sunday

hello everyone! sorry for being MIA for a while, please accept this fluffy, domestic, cosy one-shot as my apology. also, the reference to talent show results at the end is purely for my own comfort because watching strictly come dancing on a cosy winter evening is the light of my life. enjoy my darlings!

word count: 1,764

I wake up to the sound of gentle cries from the crib next to our bed, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to gain an extra second of peace before the chaos of newborn-parent life begins. Before I can even get out of bed, I feel the mattress lift from behind me.

"I'll get her." He whispers to me as I turn my head, watching him lift her tiny body onto his chest. He shushes her, gently rocking her up and down, his hand nearly the entire size of her body.

"What time is it?" I squint to at the clock on the nightstand, rubbing my eyes tiredly.

"7AM, our girl slept all the way through." He smiles down at her as her small hands attempt to grasp at his bare chest. The combination of postpartum hormones and his gentle whispers to her make me emotional as I lie in bed, pulling the covers up under my chin and sniffling a little. He looks over to me and I smile sleepily.

"Do you want to sleep in mummy and daddy's bed, hm?" He says to her, lifting her up in front of him. Her feet scrunch up in her tiny onesie and he pouts at her, bringing her over to me.

He hands her over to me as he gets back into bed, sitting up and brushing a few strands of hair away from my forehead. "How did you sleep?"

"I slept well, thank you, my love." I smile softly, also sat up now and cradling the baby as he kisses me gently.

We sit in silence for a while, the soft brush of his thumb against my arm comforting as we lie together. It's around half past eight when Ross gets out of bed and makes us both a coffee, bringing it upstairs and putting the latest episode of Bake Off on while I feed her. It's a chilly day, the middle of October in fact, the trees surrounding our house now a golden-brown colour. Our dog sleeps at the edge of the bed, wrapped up in the white duvet like a baby in his own right.

"Do you have any plans for today?" I ask as I stand up with her in my arms, walking around the room gently after her feed.

Even now, after being together all this time, I blush at the sight of him shirtless in bed. He's got the covers pulled over his lap, a mug looking ridiculously tiny in his hands, his dark eyes following me as I walk towards him.

"I don't think so, darling." He smiles up at me, taking my free hand in his as I stand next to the bed and pressing a firm kiss to my wedding-ring-adorned knuckle. "Why, what are you thinking?" He squints his eyes a little and I giggle at his attempt to read my mind.

"I'm thinking about going for a walk this morning, and then going for a Sunday roast."

"A walk and a roast with my girls? The dream." He jokingly swoons at the thought and I laugh at him, running my fingertips through his hair. "Here, let me take her while you get ready."

I put my playlist on and get ready in the en-suite, laughing to myself when I hear him singing along to the 90's boy band songs I have on. For my outfit of the day, I go for a chunky knit sweater and jeans, complete with a pair of boots.

"I didn't realise you were such an avid Boyzone fan." I giggle as I stand in the doorway of the bathroom, blending my make up as I watch him sing the lyrics to her.

"She's just like her Uncle Matty, she's trying to sing." He smiles, fingers gently combing through her thick, dark hair.

Once I'm ready, I take her from him and get her dressed as he does the same.

"Look how cute your daughter looks." I grin as he makes his way downstairs, putting her into the pushchair his mum and dad bought us. It's beautiful - cream with big wheels, perfect for days like today.

"Oh my god." He throws his head back dramatically when he sees her in a white, teddy-bear-material onesie, the hood pulled up with little ears on. "I was going to say how did we make something so cute, but she's half you, so it makes sense." He wraps his arms around my waist from behind and presses a kiss to my neck, making me blush and giggle at the same time.

"Ross, she's literally your carbon copy." I smile, resting head on his next to me.

"True, very true." He raises his eyebrows in agreement. "Come on, Ollie!" He says to the dog after a moment, putting his collar and lead on.

With that, we head out, Ross holding the dog's lead and me pushing baby in her pram. It's not too cold now, the sky clear and the sun shining. We head into the woods, smiling at other people on their Sunday morning walks. I laugh as Ross throws the ball for Ollie, his little legs moving faster than I've ever seen.

"Do you want me to push?" He asks, turning around to look at me with a smile. I grin, knowing that he's asking to push the pram, rather than offering.

"Yes, please."

We swap, my arm linked through his as we walk together, his eyes fixated on his little girl bundled up in front of him. I didn't think it was possible, but watching Ross become a dad has made me fall in love with him all over again.

I glance over at him and wonder how I got so lucky. He looks so broad and tall, the navy fleece sweater he's wearing really playing into the whole DILF thing. His hair is pulled back into a bun, his large hands holding onto the handle of the pushchair, and I have to avert my eyes before it becomes weird.

"I love you." I say, breaking the comfortable silence and kissing his sweater-covered bicep. He presses a kiss to the top of my head in return.

"I love you more."

"You're so good at this."

"At what? Pushing the pram?"

"No," I giggle. "Being a dad. Being a husband."

"It's only because of you." He glances down at me, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiles gently. "It's only because I'm your husband, because she's our baby." I swallow deeply in attempt to not cry in the middle of our walk. "Plus, you're a great mum, so it's easy to be a parent when it's with you."

"Stop, I'm going to cry." I sniffle and he laughs loudly at my emotional instability. I smack his arm teasingly, crouching down to put Ollie's lead back on as we reach the main road and cross to go to the pub.

We order our lunches, Ross sat with a pint in front of him as he feeds the baby. I steal a sip as he does so, still not used to the privilege of being able to drink again.

The pub we're in is so cosy - dim lighting, candles lit and an autumnal wreath on the door, dog-friendly too with Ollie asleep under the table. I smile to myself when I spot an elderly couple sat across from us, holding hands as they have their Sunday lunch. I think about how that will be Ross and I someday, reminiscing on the days when we were recently married and parenting our first baby.

We eat our roast dinner as the baby sleeps in her pushchair, both of us checking on her every two minutes. Conversations of work gossip and the Netflix show someone recommended makes up our lunchtime discussions, the restlessness of our daughter being the only reason we don't end up staying here all night. Ross downs the last bit of his pint, standing up and heading over to the bar to pay the bill. I swaddle her in her blanket again, pressing a small kiss to her head before placing her in the pushchair. We leave and head back the same way we came, Ross holding Ollie for a little bit on the way back. I smile to myself at how he still babies his beloved boy, despite having an actual child now. I can hear him talking to him, kissing him and ruffling the curly hair around his ears.

It's nearly dark by the time we get back, around 5pm.

I hear him running the tiny baby bath upstairs as I empty the dishwasher from this morning, attempting to calm her little cries by pacing the hall with her.

"See, this one is when mummy and daddy got married," he stands in front of the picture frames on the wall, pointing to one from our wedding day. "Look how pretty mummy looks." He tilts his head to the side with a soft smile on his face, swallowing and blinking harshly. "And this one is all your uncles! Look at Uncle George, he looks so cool there."

I make my way upstairs and assist him in bathing her, getting her dressed and brushing her hair gently. She's sleepy from her bath, yawning and rubbing her face with her tiny, scrunched up hands. I settle her down in her crib, quietly closing the door to our bedroom behind me before making my way downstairs, now in pyjamas with my make up off and hair up.

Ross is sat in the sofa when I get downstairs, feet up and arms crossed as he watches the football scores from today.

"You're such a dad." I tease as I stand beside him, running my fingers through his hair and leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He rests a hand on my hip, holding me to him for a few more seconds before pulling away.

"I know, right?" He laughs as I sit next to him, my legs pulled up to me as I rest my head into his side. He changes the channel and puts the results of some tacky talent show on, making me smile at the fact that I know he hates it but is willing to endure it for me. His arm around my shoulders holds me to him, his free hand offering me a chocolate button from the bag he's been hiding in the cupboard. I accept gladly, closing my eyes and sighing heavily.

"You okay?" He murmurs into my hair, his words muffled.

"Yeah, just really happy."

[animesmolbean]

A World of Pure Imagination

Author's Note: I had to do a lot of thinking while writing this chapter, but it's very fluffy at the end, so it's worth it, lol.

Side Note: My God, why is Timothée so cute in this GIF?! 🤧♥️

Hope you enjoy it! ♥️

Chapter 12: Live My Life

Yin sprinted through the quiet and mostly dark town, his magenta coat flying behind him. He needed to get to the dock. He needed to see Willy. He needed to stop him from leaving.

"Willy!" He called out, trying to find him.

"Where are you?!"

He stopped momentarily to catch his breath. But that's when he heard faint voices. He recognized those voices. It was Slugworth, Fickleberger, and Prodnose. They were talking to a fourth voice. Yin recognized it as the Chief of Police. He was getting closer.

Yin started running again. He saw the dock; it was in his lime of sight now.

But as he neared, he saw the four men staying there, watching the boat leave. But what he saw next is what broke him.

The ship that Willy was supposedly on exploded.

Yin covered his face with his arms, despite being far away. He slowly lowered them as he took in what just happened. He can faintly hear the four despicable men talking about the deal being done, and they concluded their business, going their separate ways.

But that's not what Yin was focused on.

"No." He whimpered, feeling his heart clench in anguish and tears well up in his eyes for the second time today.

He was too late.

(A/N: The music is "My Once Upon a Time" (the full audio verison) from Descendants 3 but with lyrics I came up with (some are from the song but 90% is my own). I recommend looking up the song and listening to it while you read the lyrics since I can't upload the full audio on here. It'll be worth it and make it fun! I hope you like it!)

🎵Here you are alone, and you deserve it

Your love's been taken down

And that's on you

You had a cause to serve, but did you serve it?

Or was this all you could truly do?🎵

Yin looked out towards the water.

🎵This is all your fault

No, it's those monsters by default

But why do you feel this way?🎵

Yin removed the magenta coat Willy gave him and held it in his hands.

🎵Is it because he is away?

He looked up with a frown.

🎵Now, you can't live your life, there's no use

You can't live your life, it's gone with a fuse

You can't live your life with choice

You took a risk

Now you lost your voice

And that will be how you live your life

Goodbye🎵

It started to snow a little as Yin turned around to walk back into town, still holding the jacket in his trembling hands. Once he was away from the dock, he paused and turned around.

🎵Why did he leave?

Did he feel unworthy?🎵

He held the jacket up by the collar, looking at it as it reminded him of Willy.

🎵Like there wasn't solid ground for him to stand🎵

His grip on the jacket tightened.

🎵But a sacrifice is not a firm foundation

You can not build your dreams on a mountain made of sand🎵

Yin's eyes widened a bit. He knew why Willy left now and why the Chocolate Cartel, along with the Chief of Police was there as he left town on that boat.

🎵He left because he lost his dreams

Yes, that is what it seems

He wanted to bring joy and fun

He didn't stop until it was done🎵

Yin started to walk back into town.

🎵He lived his life, he had no shame

He lived his life, he didn't want fame

He lived his life for real

He wanted to make

That was his deal

That's how you wish you could live your life

For real🎵

Yin stopped the foundation in the middle of town. The place where he realized he was in love with Willy Wonka. Where they almost shared their first kiss.

🎵I had joy and my friends, but I lived with a frown

But then he came, and my heart soared above

He has flipped my entire life upside down

That's it, I know what I'll do, my love🎵

Yin knew what he was going to do now. He put the overcoat back on.

🎵 Yes, I will sell for you🎵

Yin jumped onto the edge of the fountain, smiling, feeling determination now instead of sadness.

🎵I'll say, I lived my life, I flew higher

I lived my life, I feel so right

I'll live my life, not a ploy

I feel his heart

I'll spread his joy

That's how I plan to live my life

This is how I'll live my life

I will finally get to live my life

Again🎵

Yin spread his arms out as he felt himself soar higher than the heavens. He felt determination course through his body as he brought his arms back down to his sides forcefully, breathing in and out.

He smiled as tears welled up in his eyes again, but he didn't shed any of them. He let out a determined hum while nodding. "Now, what shall I do?" He asked himself, looking around.

"I know where you can start."

Yin gasped and turned around at the sound of the voice. He looked around to see if anyone was there. Then, out of the shadows, a familiar figure stepped out. Yin gasped, and he swore he felt his heart beat faster.

It was Willy Wonka.

The inventor smiled at the surprised boy. "Hello, little marshmallow."

"Willy!" Yin jumped off the fountain and ran towards him. He immediately wrapped his arms around him tightly. "Willy, my love! You're here." He cupped his cheeks and started to pepper kisses all over Willy's face. The magician laughed as Yin did so.

"Yes, I am here. I'm here." Willy wrapped his arms around Yin.

Yin stopped and looked at the beautiful boy in front of him. He wasn't injured, but his skin was cold, and his hair and clothes were slightly damp. Snowflakes caught in his long eyelashes. "How did you survive? Did you jump into the water?" He asked.

"You are correct. I did, right before the boat exploded."

Yin sighed and pressed his forehead against Willy's. "Why did you leave us? Why did you leave me?" He whispered, sniffling a bit.

Willy moved his hands to Yin's face, cupping his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I thought I was doing the right thing. To help you." He whispered.

"The right thing? By leaving?"

"The Chocolate Cartel promised me you all would have better lives. They paid off my debt to Mrs. Scrubbit, and promised to pay everyone else out too. Noodle had more than the rest, so she could have a better life, too."

Yin was surprised by this. But there was more.

"But what really made me do it was when they offered to give you money. More than anyone else, even Noodle. So you can have your life back and find meaning. The only deal was to leave town and never sell chocolate again. So, I did it."

Yin frowned, feeling sadness well up inside him again. 'He really thought he was helping us.' He thought to himself. "Oh, Willy." He sighed, caressing the boy's cheeks with his thumbs.

"I don't need money to be happy. I don't want my old life back. I'm happy with what I have."

Willy looked at Yin.

"Was it true? What you said earlier? You really wanted to continue my legacy?"

Yin blushed. "You heard me, didn't you?"

Willy nodded, chuckling a bit at Yin's sudden shyness. "Yeah. That really meant a lot to me." He smiled softly. You... made my heart soar when you said that." He quoted Yin.

Yin chuckled shyly, sniffling a bit. Willy nuzzled his nose against Yin's. As the snow fell gently onto them, the two closed the distance and kissed each other. Their kiss was soft and passionate. It made them feel content and safe. It made buterflies flutter in their stomachs, making them giggle against each other's lips. Eventually, they pulled away for air with a soft pop. The couple smiled at each other.

But they knew this moment couldn't last. They had a mission to accomplish.

"Come on. I have some things to tell you. We won't be safe until everyone involved is in jail." Willy said, reluctant to pull away.

Yin was as equally reluctant, but he knew Willy was right. "Yeah. Let's save our friends."

The two pulled away and started walking to the wash house, hand in hand.

[imaginidol]

Baekhyun: Second thoughts & Second Chances

Baekhyun raised the volume of his car radio as he slowed his car to a halt in front of a stoplight. The night was quiet and there were very few cars around him. He’d worked a long day, and now he couldn't wait to get home to rest for the evening.

The songs on the radio were old western throwbacks, a small station Baekhyun casually liked very much. The current song playing was Dean Martin's Everybody Loves Somebody.

Baekhyun hummed along to the song, not particularly thinking of anything at first.

It wasn't until about halfway through the second verse that Baekhyun caught up to the message behind a few of the lyrics;

Everybody finds somebody someplace, There's no telling where love may appear.

Baekhyun had found many “someone’s” at different points of his life, though none of them had ever lasted very long.

The boy reminisced on his last love,

you.

"Just a few months ago," he pondered, "we were doing so well."

Crazy how everything changes, he thought.

The light in front of him turns green, and he continues the rest of his drive home quietly lost in thought.

It wasn't until later that night when Baekhyun was sitting alone in his kitchen that he realized how much he really missed you. And it wasn't the only sudden night that he was in his sudden feels about you, either. The thought of your past relationship together would repeatedly resurface when the smallest of things reminded him of you.

Song lyrics, couples walking in public, heart-shaped donuts at a sweet shop's window.

There was always something that tied his thoughts back to you.

“Ah,” he sighed as he scrolled through your profile whilst drinking a glass of wine at his bar table.

You still look just as great as you did when I first met you.

Baekhyun sipped his wine slowly, his thoughts recalling a promise that he’d made you once, though it never really came true.

I'll always come back for you, especially when our relationship hits a rough patch. I think you're worth fighting for.

Baekhyun put his phone face-down onto the marble countertop and rubbed his eyes in frustration. When he closed his eyes, he saw you and him sharing treasured memories together, the sounds of your laughter and the feel of your soft lips against his.

When he opened his eyes, nothing more than an empty living room and the distant sound of the AC greeted him, and all the memories of you had dissipated into nothing.

What am I doing?

The tired boy poured himself a third glass of wine and began sipping it steadily. He wasn't totally buzzed yet, but he definitely would be going that route if he didn't stop thinking about you.

He decided that the only way to give himself a peace of mind was to check up on you after all these months of not doing so.

Baekhyun opened a new conversation with you on Instagram and hesitated for a moment to consider what he had to say.

What could you possibly tell someone after you broke up with them?

He feels his thumbs typing away until a half-coherent message is written out.

[Baekhyun: Hi, I hope I'm not disturbing you if I reach out like this..]

To his surprise, the <Online> bubble next to your name turns green, and he sees that you've read his message.

His heart falls heavy into his chest as he scrambles to think of what to say next, assuming and hoping you'd reply. To his surprise, you did.

[New DM: Hi Baek!! :) Long time no see!]

Baekhyun mindlessly typed away at his phone, the lingering effects of his wine eventually kicking in and convincing him to just say what he had on his mind.

[Baekhyun: I don't mean to pop up so suddenly, but I was thinking about a promise I made you that I realize now, I never kept..]

[New DM: Oh? What promise?]

Baekhyun took a deep breath before taking another long sip of his wine.

[Baekhyun: That I'd come back for you, even after the worst]

[Baekhyun: I didn't do that for you.. I guess I'm here to apologize, though maybe I should've done it more formally than over instagram]

[New DM: <is typing...>]

[New DM: Baek, it's been months since our breakup... I hope that guilt hasn't been eating you up this whole time. You deserve better..]

[New DM: But I would be lying if I said I haven't thought about you the same way this whole time]

Baekhyun felt himself relax for a moment, hoping that perhaps there would be a chance at rekindling what you once had all over again if your feeling truly were mutual.

[New DM: But I also feel like I should tell you before this conversation progresses any further... I've fallen in love with someone else...]

At that, Baekhyun puts his phone back down against the table and rests his head over his crossed over the marble counter.

And there it is...

I made the mistake of letting you go.

Baekhyun's eyes filled with drunken tears of sorrow and regret, the sound of your incoming messages making his phone buzz and the countertop vibrate.

But the exhausted and heartbroken boy did not pick up his phone again, nor was he prepared to face the conversation with you that would surely soon ensue.

He wasn't prepared to accept the fact that you'd moved on so quickly.

He wasn't prepared to accept the fact that the breakup was stupidly caused over sasaengs who'd threatened to leak your personal information online if he hadn't broken you off.

He wasn't prepared to accept not doing more with his authority.

He wasn't prepared to accept the fact that he didn't think of any other gateway to protect you, and his response was to break the beautiful relationship you once shared, and how it shattered your heart in the process.

He wasn't prepared for the worst,

losing you to someone who would now surely protect you more than he ever could.

My intentions weren't to harm you.

I wish I got to tell you this.

Instead, the oven clock in the kitchen ticked away into the night, and soft, exhausted snores eventually filled the voided air of the otherwise quiet, empty apartment.

[iambic-stan]

Concertina

Writing this story was very therapeutic for me. I hope someone else, cardiophile or otherwise, can get some comfort and reassurance out of it, too.

"I'm not policing what you think and dream," was the lyric I fixated on, though it was only the first verse of the song.  Every explanation of the song "Concertina" I'd read contradicted my own interpretation.  Wasn't it mostly a song about feeling bold enough to be strange, even if it was frightening?  There was applause in the bar when I finished, and made me feel like the risk of a new track selection had paid off.  Tori clapped with the most vigor, as she usually does.

"Girl, who sang that one?" she asked, noting that it was different from my usual selections like Stevie Nicks and Pat Benetar.  I stared at her drink, something with pineapple and gin if I recalled, with this hypnotic red-orange-yellow ombre effect.  Without taking my eyes off of it, I said, "It was a Tori Amos song.  Not a big hit or anything though.  You share a name," I said, lightly touching her shoulder, "You should sing something of hers one night."

"Not if the DJ has anything Taylor," she laughed.  It was fair.  Tori loved to sing Taylor Swift at karaoke, just like how she loved to talk about Gaylor theories, analyze her lyrics, speculate about what her various IG and Tumblr posts might foretell, and scour Stubhub and every other possible site for the least-bankrupting concert tickets.  I was just along for the ride, though I had a couple of her albums at home myself.

"Ok, do something from Lover," I suggested.  

"I don't know.  What if all they have is "YNTCD?" she whined, abbreviating Taylor's divisive LGBTQ anthem from 2019, one that I happened to enjoy despite any criticism.  

"I know you like it, and maybe I'm being a terrible Swiftie, but isn't she just trying to hijack our trauma and claim it as hers?  *Unless* she is gay but didn't want to say so explicitly in the song.  It's great that she gave so many queer people screen time.  I didn't even know who Billy Porter was until I saw the video.  But then again, why did she make it about resolving her beef with Katy Perry?  That was so random.  Anyway, I'll see what I can do...for you, Elena."  She ran her hand down my arm and then squeezed my hand for a second.  She's drunk, I thought, but I appreciated the affection.  Her hand was soft and it felt right--sensual without the suggestion of something more.  I wouldn't want anything more.  

Well, that wasn't entirely true.  I had come to feel at home with Tori over the past year--my first close friend since college who also happened to be queer.  I had lingered longer when hugging her, and since she knew I was asexual, I didn't think she ever took anything the "wrong" way.  At home I had a bright magenta stethoscope that sat on my nightstand, waiting.  But since I'd never told Tori that 1) I loved heart sounds, 2) loved using stethoscopes, and 3) wanted to use one with her, my stethoscope could have been waiting for Godot.  I had strongly considered putting her (the stethoscope--named Alex for my love of Wizards of Waverly Place) in the living room so that Tori could just happen to notice her while we were watching a movie.  But I played the conversation out in my head and felt mortified with every possible script I wrote.  Still, whenever I pictured her wearing the binaurals and listening to my heart, I felt like skipping through a field of daisies.  It just seemed like I was struggling with level one of a video game while ravenously reading walkthroughs of the battle with the final boss I might never meet.  Not that it was a game to me--my love of heart sounds was and always had been one of the most important things in my life.  It kept me sane and grounded, and most of all, it was how I felt close to someone I cared about.

I felt a bit of envy as I watched her throw her arm around the DJ, whose adorable curly head of hair and petite stature brought to mind Jorgeous from one of my favorite shows--Rupaul's Drag Race.  But I wasn't jealous that Not-Jorgeous was enjoying Tori's affection; I wished I could have that sort of magnetism that drew everyone to me and put them immediately at ease.  Trauma had prevented me from being so gregarious.  I watched as four more karaoke singers ran up to Tori, happy to see a familiar face (she was there every week) and get their expected hug.  No, I didn't necessarily want that much attention, I realized--I only wanted the confidence and grace to be completely open with her.

When I heard the first few sharp, synth-laden notes, I knew exactly what song it was.  Tori was deadly serious in her delivery and everyone in the bar turned to gaze at this tall, striking woman who would almost look imposing if her face weren't so soft and kind.  "Combat, I'm ready for combat," she sang, and I was shocked that the DJ would have this track from Taylor's Lover album that we could agree on.  In a moment of accountability that Taylor-haters never acknowledge, the singer tells us she's been "the archer" and "the prey," and feared her propensity for causing hurt as well as her own crippling wounds might make her difficult to live with.  As Tori deftly crescendoed her way into the bridge (I had been given numerous lectures on her distinctive bridges), I felt like my heart beat louder as well.  Suddenly embarrassed, I turned away and stepped onto the bar's patio, my long wrap skirt catching a doorknob in my haste.  I pulled it out and turned to look at the wisteria still bright near sundown and the brick water feature with the goldfish.  There was a couple in the corner deep in conversation, voices so hushed I couldn't make out a single word. That was my last drink, I thought, staring at the crescent moon and the smattering of stars I could see in spite of light pollution.  I felt too much; why didn't alcohol make me numb like it did everyone else?

"Hey, did you like it?" I heard her say behind me.  I turned and saw the sheepish grin on her face.

"Oh, it was beautiful!" I exclaimed.  "I was just out here getting some air is all."  

"I was thinking about what you said last week."  She came closer and put her arms around me as she said it.  My head landed near her chest, and I could almost hear something if it weren't for her thick jacket.  I let myself fall into her embrace.  "I think it would be exciting, actually.  I want to do it.  I've never done that with anyone before," she continued.

I racked my brain and tried to remember what she could be talking about, slowly recalling that I'd had 3 cocktails and 2 shots last week.  There were a few portions of my last karaoke night that I didn't recall at all.  "Wait, what are you talking about?"

She looked at me, her eyes crinkled a little.  Gently, she pushed my hair out of my face.  "You're such a silly drunk and you don't remember any of it," she said, shaking her head.  "You surprised the hell out of me by talking about having a stethoscope and wanting to listen to my heartbeat.  And that you wanted me to listen to your heartbeat.  And I was speechless because that seemed like such a weird, random thing to say.  But then I thought about it and I'm really curious now.  None of my girlfriends ever wanted to do something like that.  Not that you're my girlfriend, but a friend who happens to be a girl, anyway.  I'm down."

I breathed in sharply.  How could I have said all of that without realizing what I was divulging?  My heart was really pounding then, and as if she read my mind, she placed her hand on my chest.  "Oh!" she squeaked, surprised.  "Am I embarrassing you?  Please don't feel that way!  I guess I should've thought you might've forgotten, like that time you went on for like 10 minutes about whether Drag Race All Stars is rigged like you were the only person in the room and had zero recollection of it the next day."  Without really thinking, I quickly placed my hand over hers, holding it fast to my chest.  Her hand so near my heart felt just right somehow.  I closed my eyes and only opened them when she pulled away to check her phone.

"Our Uber is on its way.  I told them to go to your apartment.  Is that ok?  Mine is a mess and Savannah has her boyfriend over, anyway.  He always brings that cheap, stinky weed.  Plus, we could watch more Babylon 5.  I want to see if the praying mantis thing is a 'legitimate businessman' ha."

The N'Grath reference made me smile.  "That sounds great," I almost slur, grinning like an idiot.

Mollie, my dachshund, is almost wider than she is long, so it's a struggle for her to make it up to the couch to properly greet Tori when she comes over.  This night was no different.  "She doesn't even eat that much," I said for probably the twentieth time.  "It's like she just has the worst possible metabolism, poor babe."  I stroked under her chin.

The DVD was loaded, and with the confidence that only alcohol could summon in me, I'd stealthily transferred Alex from my bedroom to the coffee table in the living room while Tori was in the bathroom.  When she emerged, she smiled all big and plopped back down on the couch.  My voice boomed in my head when I picked up the stethoscope and said, "This is Alex.  She was named for Alex Russo, you know, when I was younger.  Well, not that much younger.  But still.  Yes, I know it was a kids' show," I say shyly, wondering why I can't shut up.

Tori laughed and picked her up, turning the chestpiece around over and over again to switch from diaphragm to bell, hearing that satisfying click each time.  "She doubles as a fidget toy, I see," she said.  "Oh what's that?" I had to follow her gaze because I was staring at her chest (not her breasts--give me some credit) rising and falling and could barely think of anything else.  She picked up a pill bottle from the coffee table, one that I usually put away when someone is over out of an overabundance of caution. But I hadn't realized we were both coming back here tonight.  "Spiro?" she asked.  "I used to take that, like in my 20s when my acne was a lot worse.  What do you take it for?" she asked innocently.

I looked up at her, struck dumb and wordless.  We both stared in silence for a few seconds too long, and that was when it dawned on me.  Elena, she doesn't know, you moron.  You're about to ask her to do something intimate and she doesn't know.  Does it matter?  Maybe, maybe not.  I sighed.  This was not the way I wanted her to find out.  What if she changed her mind, decided I'm not one of her girl friends after all?  What if she declared this some kind of "trick"?  What if she got mad, felt betrayed, and blabbed all over social media?  What if it got out at work?  This wasn't something to play with, I realized, and it made me feel like I was suffocating suddenly, imagining all the worst case scenarios. They flicked through my brain rapidly, like someone pressing the lever on one of those retro viewfinders at lightning speed, taking in all of the little thumbnails in a blur.  I gasped and then deliberately began to breathe in and out very slowly and evenly.  I grabbed the arm of the couch as if I was falling.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry.  You don't have to answer that.  It's none of my business," she insisted apologetically.  I could tell she was uncomfortable.  I had made her uncomfortable.  But it didn't feel like there was any escaping it now.  The mood had changed dramatically, all thanks to my reaction to her question, and as much as I yearned for her to listen to my heart and had pictured it many times in the last few months, it was pounding because I was terrified.  She put Alex down on the couch, where Mollie reached over to lick her eartips, and took my hand.  "What's wrong?" she whispered.

I looked up at her and it felt like someone else's voice when I choked out, "I'm trans."  Her brow furrowed.  When she didn't respond right away, I added, in a whispered rush, "I grew up a boy.  I mean I'm not one.  I never was.  I thought you knew.  That's what the prescription is for."  I exhaled loudly, then realized I'd been staring at the floor and not facing Tori.  She let my hand go, almost in slow-motion, and she looked at my body as though she was seeing it for the first time.  Oh god, I winced.  Please don't look for masculine things.  

"I'm such an idiot," she finally said, almost inaudibly.  I stared in horror as she said,  "Why didn't I know?!?"  

I felt my mouth go dry.  My voice was hoarse.  "It's not like I wanted everyone to know," I said.  "It's not like I want to lose my job."

"Oh, Elena!" she exclaimed.  "You weren't thinking it would make a difference, were you?"  When I didn't respond, she wrapped her arms tightly around me, and tears flooded my vision.  "You're one of my best friends.  You're my only friend who will go with me to karaoke, for one," she laughed.  "You're the only person besides my mom who listened to me carry on about my undying devotion to Amari, even after the third time she fucking cheated.  Not my finest moment, but that woman had a hold on me."  I inadvertently let out a snort, remembering her beautiful but treacherous ex. 

She kept one arm around me and reached again for Alex.  "She's probably got Mollie slobber on her now," I pointed out.

"Ha, I'm not worried about it," Tori said.  I watched her insert the ear tips, thinking she had a 50/50 chance of putting them in correctly, and she managed it.  There was something transformative about her wearing the binaurals, and it dried my tears to see it.  She was only about ten years my senior, but in that moment I felt like the child I was always meant to be--one who was free to play how I wanted, with whatever toys I wanted, and just be who I was without being called names I didn't even understand.  She was the older, wiser one who could really see me.  I was safe.  She unfastened just the top button of my shirt and I looked at her face as I could feel the coolness of the metal circle on my skin.

A minute passed, then another, and they were brief but filled with knowing that she could hear me so well.  "That's so cool," she said softly.  "It was fast at first and now it's slow and steady.  I kind of feel like...I know you in a new way," she smiled and looked at my face before looking back down at the instrument.  I felt so happy I thought I could cry again.  She moved the chestpiece around--left and right and center, then between my breasts.  "It sounds different in different areas," she observed.  "Like, the first sound is louder in some places and the second is louder in others."

"You're listening near a different valve each time," I whispered, thrilled that she heard those nuances that most ordinary people don't seem attuned to.  She nodded, the look on her face one of wonder.  I breathed along with her for another few minutes while she listened, and it felt like the sort of connection I only dreamed of feeling, knowing that most people don't "get" this.  I felt almost reborn, and completely satiated. 

When it was my turn to listen, I tried to push past my reservations and self-doubt.  "Is it ok if I put this under your shirt?" I asked tentatively, pointing while holding the chestpiece.  

"Girl, yes!" she practically sputtered.  "After all the poking around I just did?  It's only fair," she laughed.

Mollie jumped up to grab and lick my hand as I moved to place the stethoscope on Tori's chest, and we both had to stop what we were doing to laugh.  When I slipped it underneath her blouse, the sound was clear and strong.  She watched my eyes as I breathed in several systoles and diastoles and it made her smile.  First, I listened for the semilunar valves--aortic and pulmonic, then, gaining confidence in what could have been an uncomfortable endeavor, moved downward to listen properly at the atrioventricular valves--tricuspid and mitral.  Tori leaned forward so I could easily access these different auscultation points.  I stayed at each one for awhile, trying to commit this sound to memory in case we never did this again.  When I was finished, she said, "Wow, that was kind of a vulnerable feeling but not in a bad way."

"You sounded so, so beautiful," I told her softly, and was pleased when that display of raw emotions didn't elicit a raised eyebrow.  This wasn't a night I'd forget anytime soon.

Thanks so much for reading! If you're able and would like to, click here to donate to the Trans Lifeline, a hotline that provides life-saving assistance to trans people, staffed by trans people.

[anyaispunk]

Let Us Last Forever

Summary: Daniel couldn't imagine a life without fulfilling your dreams.

Word Count: 841

Note: Just pure fluff and listen to Cody Fry - Photograph while you read this if you can.

You’re both on your way back to your hotel after Daniel finished his meetings, and you decided to come. You almost regret your decision to come along because it lasted for hours.

Music filled the entire ride. He loves music, and you’re certainly sure that his blue McLaren 720s speakers only have a break when he’s not riding the car. Luckily, you both have the same taste in music. So as soon as the first song is played, the two of you start vibing immediately.

After a couple of rap songs, a very contrast music is beginning to play. Cody Fry’s Photograph piano brings warmth into your chest.

"OH MY GOD. I LOVE THIS SONG," you exclaimed while looking at him.

It's the evening light

Shining through the curtains

The time before the night

When everything is golden

 

You sang along beautifully as Dani chuckled, looking at you.

Now you close your eyes while singing. Scenarios are running through your head. You can’t help it. This song makes you happy, thinking about the future you’ll have with your other half. Even though at this point, you have no idea who he is. But… you have one particular man on your mind.

If I wished myself a superpower

I would make this moment last for hours

If I had my will, time would just stand still

Wait for me until I find some magic film

To take a photograph and live inside

 

Dani couldn’t help but smile as wide as he could. You looked so beautiful. Savouring every single word of the lyrics. Making it more meaningful when it already is.

You opened your eyes and turned to him. His eyes were sparkling, just like yours. One pair full of hope and the other full of adoration. 

The song was still playing. He let no questions out, but you felt like you wanted to explain. Wondering why you suddenly have the urge to tell him everything, remembering you’re the kind of person that keeps everything to yourself. But whenever you’re with him, you turn into a book that begs to be read.

"I love this song," you said for the second time to start your explanation.

You both stared at the traffic ahead.

"Each time I hear this song, I can picture myself with my husband. Sitting on a bench not too far from the beach, on the edge of a low cliff." you smiled as the scene got clearer and clearer.

"We’re gonna make a video based on this song. Visualising every single thing the lyrics have. As the sun goes down, the light gorgeously hits our face. We’re looking at each other and feel nothing but happiness, blessed, and much much love. It’s overwhelming but we craved it." Tears began to form in your eyes. Not realizing that Dani has been holding his tears and grabbing the steering wheel too tight until his knuckles are white in an attempt to fight his tears from falling.

"And we’ll hold on to that moment as long as we live. Watching the video now and then, so we couldn’t forget how it felt as it was yesterday. Every time we are happy, we’ll look at it so we remember that happiness isn’t just when something worth celebrating for. Every time we are sad, we’ll look at it so we remember to be grateful because we still have each other. Every time we’re away, we’ll look at it so we remember there’s someone to come home to. Or even every time we fight, so we remember that no matter how pissed we are, we love each other more."

I need some way to prove that this was real

A memory is not enough

I'm scared that I'll forget the way it feels

To be young and in love

 

Knowing what you’ll say next, your tears inevitably fall to your cheeks.

"One day, when one of us is gone. We’ll have something to assure ourselves to keep living. So our love stayed alive. Until one of us successfully passes it on to our kids and makes sure that they carry our love to pass it on, over and over again. Because that’s how strong our love is."

Let me stay right here

Just a moment longer

The picture is so clear

Please let this last forever

 

Your words ended at the same time as the song. You finally have the guts to look at Dani, scared that he finds you weird or an incredibly drama queen.

But when you looked at him, you found none of those. Only love and tears. You panicked and hurriedly reached out to grab some tissues. You wiped his cheeks and asked,

"Why are you crying?" there’s a hint of concern in your tone.

"Because I don’t know what I’m gonna do for the rest of my life if not making your words come true."

[ladytauria]

💖 and 🧠 from the ask game <33

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

my writing voice! i used to hate re-reading my own writing but now i can do so comfortably, even when i pick up on mistakes i missed or things i would change <3

i'm also fairly proud of my imagery, lol. that was something i worked hard to develop, and while i DO forget to like... describe things still when im writing, when i do remember/go back to add that in i feel more confident in my results lol

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

i have SO MANY of these

okay. i counted up the ones i have fleshed out outlines for, since there's more to talk about, and then i rolled a die <3

so! it's a jaytim fic inspired by the lyric, "why do you make me want to leave the world behind?" from the song stardust by new politics. the rest of the song doesn't actually fit, & i'll probs end up not using that line as the title, lol.

my outline for it is almost more of a not-fic than an outline, so... i'll just paste that in here, ig. pls excuse my brackets <3

why do you make me want to leave the world behind?

Jason couldn’t tell you what the final straw was. Maybe it was the last argument he got into with Bruce. Maybe it was hearing Joker’s laugh, again, echoing through the streets of Gotham. Maybe it was the gunshot he took to the shoulder, a few weeks ago. It— The point is, it could have been any number of things. Whatever the final straw, one thing is clear: he can’t do this any more.

And it’s not that he wants to abandon Crime Alley, or his people, it’s just—

He’s tired. He’s been tearing himself apart for the mission since he was twelve. He died, even—only to come back and keep doing it. And now… He’s just… done. He wants to live, and he can’t do that when the mission controls his life. He needs out.

Thing is…

He can’t leave Tim.

Tim is… somewhere along the way, Tim has become his rock. They’ve moved in together. When Jason suits up, Tim is at his side. When Tim needs stitches, it’s Jason holding the needle. When Jason comes home, knuckles bruised and lip split, it’s Tim there with the ice pack. And when they’re finished tending each other’s wounds, large and small, they fall into bed together—sore but together.

Jason doesn’t want to give that up.

He knows Tim won’t leave Gotham. Knows that Tim views Robin/Red Robin as the most important thing he’s ever done, the thing that gives him purpose, makes him feel real. He can’t ask him to leave it. He can’t.

But he’s not sure he can stay, either.

It’s a big, tangled mess, and Jason is no closer to figuring out what to do when Tim approaches him one evening. He sits down with him, holding his tablet, looking like he’s got something on his mind. He doesn’t bother with much preamble.

“My parents bought a place in [idk, some nice coastal or country area] a long time ago. A small vacation home, I think. It was one of those things we didn’t lose when Dad went bankrupt. I think… It looks like a nice place to retire, don’t you think so?”

Jason can hardly believe what he’s hearing, even as he agrees with feeling. He has to pinch himself once or twice, as they start making plans. They’re as methodical about it as they are everything else, hashing out all the details. It doesn’t feel real; not even when they inform the others, not when they start packing. Not even when they finally make the move, or unpack, or settle into the house.

It’s not until the second morning that it starts to sink in. This is real. It’s happening.

They grow roots. Befriend the neighbors. Tim gets back into photography, dragging Jason out with him on long walks to capture the scenery. He gets a job, too, working on cars, and talks Jason into pursuing a degree, the way he always wanted.

They gets visits and calls from the bats, and their friends—some more than others—and they usually even remember to leave business out of it. It’s… everything Jason wanted, honestly—though it’s not always easy. There are still nightmares, restless nights, and times when neither of them can watch or read the news without the urge be out there. Especially when there’s a crisis.

The worst of it, though, is the itching, nagging feeling in Jason’s chest. The thing that tells him it’s too easy. Too simple. Eventually something has to break—and each nightmare, each restless night makes Jason more and more certain it’s going to be Tim. One day, he’s going to wake up and decide that a quiet life with Jason isn’t what he wants after all.

He’ll leave.

Jason keeps his worries to himself. Just—tries to bottle up the good days, tucking them close under his heart, to keep him warm when he’s alone.

Before he knows it, though, a year passes. Tim still hasn’t left. Jason wakes up first, like he always does, and puts on the coffee before starting breakfast. Tim stumbles out of their bedroom just after Jason finishes the pancake batter. Even with a regular sleep schedule, he’s still not a morning person.

He goes for Jason first; winding his arms around his waist and sneaking a kiss before he pours his coffee. He slips out of the way, leaning against the wall to sip his coffee and watch Jason. And somewhere between the first batch of pancakes and the fourth, he glances over, and—he sees it.

Tim is smiling at him over the rim of his cup, still a little hazy from sleep. His eyes are no longer laden with bags. His skin is clear, a little tan. He’s got freckles, just a few, dotting his face. There’s a light, a glow to him that once Jason only saw in glimpses.

He’s happy.

Here.

With Jason.

It knocks the breath from him. He doesn’t know what his face is doing—only that Tim is at his side in an instant, coffee forgotten on the counter. Wrapped in Tim’s arms, Jason finds himself spilling everything, every thought and fear that’s plagued him for the last year. When he’s done, Tim smiles sadly, his hold turning into something like a cradle, despite their size difference.

“Robin was the most important thing in my life for a long time. First because watching you both, knowing what I knew… made me feel part of something bigger. Something amazing. And then because it gave me purpose. I was doing something that mattered, and so that made me feel like I mattered. And being good at it… It made me feel like I belonged, like I was wanted.” He strokes Jason’s cheek. “But… It always felt like it could be taken away. There were times when I thought it had been. And then… us. Jason, I don’t need Robin anymore. You make me feel like I matter—and I don’t… I don’t have to… to be perfect, or prove myself. I can just be here, with you, and that’s enough. I’m enough. And that… It means everything, Jay.”

Jason is tearing up. Supposedly, he’s the one who’s good with words—and Tim has pages of love poetry and sweet letters tucked away that can attest to that—but right now? He has none. All he can do is kiss him, and hope that everything he wants to say comes through.

The gratitude. The awe. The agreement. Tim does matter, and he doesn’t have to do anything to earn it, because Jason loves him. And fuck—the reason Jason stayed, the reason he couldn’t just leave on his own was because with Tim…

Tim has always taken him as he is. He doesn’t ask Jason to be anything more than he is, and because of that… Jason wants to be. He feels like the best version of himself when they’re together, and to hear that he gives Tim that same feeling—

It’s everything.

Tim’s coffee grows cold. Breakfast burns.

Neither of them care.

[ fic writer ask game ]

[saintescuderia]

excerpt from my notes app #053

spotify comment word limit exceeded

hello. 

so i've actually drafted something that i will record you before i send the link to your mixtape. i'm actually reading off of it right now. it’s a bit long and sappy so just bear with me. 

i guess it was just because i was thinking about how i always loved the good old days when we used to record mixtapes. and i mean literally record mixtapes. people would record themselves speaking between each song with a ‘this is how you make me feel’ or a ‘this song reminds me of this night’ or whatever it is. i've always loved that we used to do that. and i miss that sense of permanence, the tangible object of a thing, whether a CD or a cassette, that contains songs carefully selected that someone compilated just for you. your very own tracklist. just between you and that person. and, of course, the voice recordings to go along with them. 

because even though we still have these little voice recordings in our texts… well, when you get a new phone and everything is gone. then again, we can make a whole case about how this is life! and everything changes! and nothing is permanent! i mean, what do people still do with those mixtapes we made back in the day? do they still have them? do they still use them? 

i have made many a playlist for many a people. i have also made mixtapes. i downloaded songs from youtube with good old clip converter and then transferred them onto a blank CD disc. a legitimate mixtape. and it’s funny because every single person i made a mixtape for… well, they’re gone from my life.

but, who knows? maybe the songs i gave them stayed with them? maybe. just maybe. who knows. can’t regret these things. though, i must say, i came into a point in my life where i was sick and tired of making mixtapes for people. 

no, not even mixtapes. but playlists. 

why should i give my songs to people, why should i share these pieces of my soul to people who will inevitably leave? i mean i saw no point.

it was just a interesting time and, i mean, we both said each other that we both ended up in each other's lives in a time when we kinda needed the other. because you came and we connected and, honestly, you remind me what warmth and hope feels like. 

i know you're going through a tough time a lot has happened and you burnt out and it may feel like you can barely keep it together… but let this music soothe your soul. i choose a bit of a mellow start for that reason. then we move into some funky tunes and then it mellows out, but to some bedroom tunes. then, of course, it finishes with SWEET. because me drunkenly screaming out the lyrics to that brockhampton song was what started this.

however, if only one of these songs sticks with you… then that's all that matters. of course you may hate all of them. just tell me and i'll be your personal algorithm and give you more of what you like and what didn’t. i won't be offended. i’ve learned to stop taking these playlists too seriously. 

because, in the end, people may come and go but music always remains. it’s the same those three or four minutes. those seconds don’t change. we do. 

and if i get the chance to share some with you then that's the most important thing. 

even if just for now.

[music-my-beloved]

A Hard Day's Night: A 16yo's (horrible) album review pt.3

A Hard Day's Night: Catchy, she's so nice! She's like, a classic. Wasn't there that movie made with this same name or am I tripping? Dude making these reviews is like, giving me carpal tunnel I've never typed this much b4 !! Erm,,, but yea :/ this song is just a classic that's all I gotta say !!!

I Should Have Known Better: Harmonica goes insane honestly. Uh this song confused me 😭 like. i'm stupid??? I don't know girls this one through me for a loop. At first I was like, "Dang this girl's a runner she's out with other guys '-'" and then for a brief moment I was like no, "Okay maybe she's loyal she's just stupid and doesn't know what to say when the guy compliments her or something" I'm leaning towards the second option but the title still trips me up like, I should have known better what is that supposed to mean 😭😭??? Likeee,, "I should have known better that a girl like you would run off with different men" or "I should have known better that a ditzy girl like you wouldn't know what to say when I told you I love you" ?? I'm confuseddddd. Maybe I'm stupid. Help me 😭😭!!

If I Fell: THE DRUMS!?? Hellooo?? They're so cute !!!! They're so faint yet full it's so.. uh girl idk they're striking a chord with me. Was there a looping machine ??? Was that a thing in the 60s ?? If not that steady hand work was AMAZING. Good Job Ringo! 👍 Anyway yeah I'm familiar with this song already, she's another sister to me I love her!

I'm Happy Just To Dance With You: This song has like, melancholic undertones 😭 it makes me depressed. Not like, super sad but it's like, "Once this dance is over, I'll still love you" or something like that. Idk she's just so sad :(((( but I actually really like this track ! She's so sad I love it!!!

And I Love Her: erm, she's a bit too slow and sweet for me! I can imagine that under the right circumstances this song would be an absolute banger and just get me in my feels but right now a loud english class probs isn't the environment for this music idk.. but uhhhhh yeah. I WASN'T bored per se just mildly amused by her.

Tell Me Why: Girlllll we're getting drama???? Why this girl crying 😭 and lying ?! 😭😭 I'll tell you what these girls are! toxiccccc !!! Is it the same girl or multiple?? Because omg it's actually insane these girls are crazy or this one particular girl is just an absolute mad woman I can't tell 😭😭 uh but overall it's a pretty energetic song it's pretty good 👍

Can't Buy Me Love: Okay I heard the first line or whatever and I was like, "sugar daddy :3" what. girl nevermind. He wants a girl who doesn't want material things from him that's so sweet!! Apparently Paul and John turned their backs on Money from their previous album but whatevs I get it. Sometimes people are in a mood 👀. Uh I liked the song but the girl could bark she was a little loud for me idk 😭

Any Time At All: This song sounds a bit more modern idk but oh em gee he's gonna be there for you! Not in like a romantic way (but it could totally be seen as such) but in like a friendly sweet way !! Super cute idea for a song. Unfortunately Bruno Mars has already capitalized on such an idea with that one song that I cannot remember for the life of me rn idk

I'll Cry Instead: Teehee this song is evil >:3 !!! Revenge is real and this girl is gonna be a victim!!! I love itttt it's so catchy and just makes you wanna bop your head along with it. 10/10 for her, she was exquisite.

Things We Said Today: A parting song 🤨 hmm interestinggggg. Girl they had A LOT to say in this apparently 'cause looking at the lyrics, it reads like a short story. I mean, I know that is technically what a song is but most of the time the songs read like poems this one goes crazy (and yes I know, some parts are repeated) but OMG she was a lot !!! Charming track but I didn't really groove with this one!!!

When I Get Home: okay when I read the title I thought this song was a threat I'm not gonna lie to you 😭😭.. it still seems like a threat to me. ALSO these songs need some gut to them !! These tracks have the potential to sound more angry but they won't do it and I'm trying to understand why. The Beatles have made some angry sounding songs before (but that's for a later albums) and they've all sounded fantastic. I get that the songs at the time (60s) were all lovey dovey and cute and not so aggressive but RAAHHHHH it's so frustrating to hear the same thing over and over again. But anyway yeah I feel like this song was just too repetitive for me :/ EDIT: okay listened to this song multiple times I completely misunderstood it but the rant is STAYING !!!!!

You Can't Do That: uh this girl's a runner !!! Quick someone get her, someone watch her 😭😭😭 this song is a pretty tame response to the knowledge that your girl is talking to other people. Also this dude is oddly obsessed with his reputation like, boy, reputation don't mean nothing if your girl doesn't even respect you that much ?? I don't know i've been mean with these reviews don't mind me I'm just crazyyyy this album review has been a mess 😭

I'll Be Back: this relationship is not healthy wut. He left her just to see if she would chase after him. You know what good on you girl 'cause that was a crazy thing to do on his part. Uhm overall (despite the weirdness in the relationship dynamic) I think it was the perfect track to close out an album with. It's not using all the tricks in the playbook but it's also not completely lacking either !! It's was also a very chillaxed song and not too overbearing. I liked it!! Probs won't listen again but idk I could totally be lying don't listen to me!

More Reviews on the way, next up: Beatles for Sale...

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Camp Wanamaker (Ch 7/10)

August 13, 2023

Notes - First of all, Eleanor, I just want to say that I got the notification for your next part as I was getting in bed last night, and if forcing myself to not read it yet wasn't torture enough, I made myself finish this chapter so I'd have that as a reward. I'll probably have to read it in the morning now as I'm exhausted tonight, but I am so excited to get into it! You have no idea! Second, there are so many scrapped versions of this chapter, it's insane! I really just wanted to focus on the relationships and how they work. I was going to post this yesterday, but ended up deleting most of the last part so that I could really focus on the ending. In the end, this chapter is, probably, one of the most easter-egg-filled ones I’ve written so far, and I’m immensely proud of it.

Chapter 7 - Lay All Your Love On Me

For the first time in two weeks, silence permeated the air of Camp Wanamaker. It wasn’t unusual, per se, to have some semblance of quiet after the campers left the grounds, but after getting used to the noise and excitement that filled every open space of the camp, the silence was almost too much for many of the workers. Thankfully, the silence hadn’t been there for long as rain filled the area. A week of nothing but rain and cloudy, dreary days had been forecasted for the majority of New Hampshire as a storm from Nova Scotia loomed closer and closer to the coastal state.

Many of the camp’s staff were glad the clouds had waited for the campers to flee the area before unleashing their downpours, while others were simply glad to receive some form of reprieve from the scorching temperatures and chokingly thick humidity. Those with breathing difficulties had found safety in buildings with air conditioning units throughout the weeks, but as everyone adjusted to the cool rain, the metal window fixtures were found to be practically pointless.

As the familiar, chirpy rhythm of an almost too-upbeat eighties song echoed over the speakers as a wake-up call, Mick looked up from the novel she had been reading for well over an hour. Rolling her eyes with a smirk, she softly began singing along to the lyrics as Dead or Alive’s mega-hit song You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) played throughout the camp. She wasn’t too surprised by the choice as Vivien’s grandfather had played a majority of eighties hits over the last seven weeks of camp, but as Miles stumbled his way out of his room looking as though he would break the camp’s announcement system if given the chance, it seemed as though not everyone was as thrilled by the choice as she was.

Watching as Miles grumbled a greeting to those on the couch before making his way down the hallway toward the kitchen, Mick shook her head and returned to her book. She often wondered how he had managed to survive without Vivien’s coffee concoctions first thing in the morning. She could recall making coffee runs for him early on in their friendship, bringing him three cups of coffee throughout the workday just to get him functioning properly. Now that he had Vivien personally making him some of whatever blend she normally fixed for herself in the morning, he was drinking a bit less and still getting through just fine. Granted, even if Vivien’s mystery blend had tasted like nothing more than watered-down dirt in a mug, she was sure Miles still would have drunk it. He needed caffeine to function and, if that meant chugging his way through disgustingly mud-like sludge in a cup, Mick knew he would do just that to get some semblance of alertness.

As the main character of her book, Beatrice Prior, followed the tour guide through the Dauntless compound, Mick distantly overheard Vivien and Royce snickering in the hallway as they made their way to the living room from the kitchen. She couldn’t hear most of what they were saying, but she could guess it had to have something to do with Miles as Royce mentioned something about the flavored creamer they would have to replace sooner rather than later. As the pair made their way through the living room, prying Bentley from his spot on the couch as they went, Mick looked up from her book, making sure the young trio stayed out of the rain as they headed outside to sit on the porch swing. 

It wasn’t odd for them to sit outside while it rained, but Mick knew they had a tendency to sit on the steps or on the sand near the deck, letting the rain soak them until they looked more like drowned possums than anything. The last thing she wanted was for one of them to get sick on their week off. However, much to Mick’s pleasure, they simply took their places on the porch swing and began reading together. Grateful that the screen door allowed her to observe them from a distance, Mick hummed softly to herself before returning to her book. After a while, Riven joined them outside and Mick’s senty-like watch fell as she relaxed further into the couch’s cushions. The kids were safe with Riven around; that was all she needed to know.

They wouldn’t have long to sit around and relax before breakfast, that much she knew, but the draw of her book was too strong to fight. After spending the last week standing in for a girl named Hayden who suffered a case of sun poisoning and could barely move, let alone act in their murder mystery plot, Mick felt she deserved a break. She wasn’t an actress and, despite how welcoming and reassuring everyone had been when she joined them in the mess hall for a quick practice every morning, the week had been nothing but stress for her. Getting thrown a new script after dinner every day and having to put on a good show for the campers wasn’t as easy as everyone else made it out to be. 

Mick didn’t look up again until the couch shifted, the newcomer’s weight tilting her slightly to the right. Glancing at Miles from the corner of her eyes, Mick placed her index finger between the pages of her book as a bookmark and closed it, leaning her head on Miles’ shoulder as he leaned his head back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The two sat in silence for a while, the only noises in the area being the heavy droplets of rain and the occasional chirp of the kids’ voices. With everything going on, a majority of the camp’s staff hadn’t had the opportunity to sit in relative silence, but to Mick, it felt like something more meaningful than that.

She and Miles had known each other for over three years at that point and, despite the time they spent with everyone else, they hardly had the time to spend one-on-one time with each other. With how busy everyone was that summer, she wasn’t surprised that they couldn’t find the time to just relax and hang out, but even before the summer started, Miles was always with the kids or Carrie, spending little time with Mick or Butchy. She wasn’t one to complain as she knew the kids were Miles’ top priority, but she sort of missed being able to sit around on the couch, talking with Miles, or playing video games with him like old times. 

Granted, it wasn’t just with Miles that Mick felt this way. Though she would hate to admit it, she had begun to feel rather lonely. She would never voice her feelings, though. Everyone had so much on their plates already and, if she were to unleash all that had piled up in her head, it would only add to the mounting levels of stress everyone was already under. That was the last thing she wanted. For the time being, she would simply have to suck it up and deal with her emotions on her own. She could handle herself. Besides, even if someone were to call her out on her behavior, she could easily blame it on her period; it was almost a week later than normal anyway and wouldn’t be an outlandish excuse.

Just as she was about to lift her head from Miles’ shoulder, she felt him shift, his head lifting from the couch and his arm pulling out from under her to wrap around her shoulders. As she brought her arm around her makeshift brother’s middle, a light pressure to her hair had Mick tightening her grasp on him. Miles sighed as he asked, “Are you feeling alright?”

Shrugging minutely, Mick breathed, “Just tired.”

Miles lightly squeezed Mick’s shoulder and rubbed at her upper arm as he snickered, “That’s supposed to be my job, Mickie.”

Allowing her eyes to close, Mick chuckled airily, “In that case, it sounds like you’d better put in for unemployment because I’m taking your job today.”

Miles allowed himself to smile, but as he peered down at the younger girl, he could feel his expression falter. Dark circles inhabited the usually tan skin under Mick’s eyes, her normally sun-kissed skin appeared paler than normal, and her lips were drawn together in a tight line. He had seen her like this before when she was sick, but as far as he knew, Mick hadn’t been sick for almost a year. She was far healthier than most people Miles knew and her immune system was something of an impenetrable fortress, so for her to look physically ill and drained of color, something had to be wrong. Granted, her appearance could have been due to stress or lack of sleep, but it still worried Miles all the same.

Just as he was about to voice his concerns, Butchy entered the room, tucking his cell phone into his back pocket as he smiled at the pair on the couch. Before the older of the two bikers could greet them, Miles raised his free hand and gestured for him to stop. Once Butchy had stilled by the end of the couch, an eyebrow raised questioningly toward his long-time friend, Miles pointed toward Mick before silently asking if she was okay. Butchy shrugged, not having spent much time with his wife in the last week due to their conflicting schedules. Leaning to the side slightly and taking a better look at Mick’s appearance, however, Butchy regretted not setting aside time for her sooner. 

Meeting Miles’ worried gaze once more, Butchy opened his mouth to greet them when a certain blonde stepped into the room from the hallway, calling out a chirpy, “Good morning!”

As Mick’s eyes peeled open, Butchy attempted to act as though he had just entered the room, taking a place on the couch as his wife and Miles gave greetings of their own to Carrie. As Mick sat up to give Miles and Carrie the opportunity to spend some time together, Butchy watched from the other side of the couch, making sure she was moving well enough and checking to see if he needed to help her in any way. His wife settled in with her book as Carrie curled into Miles’ left side and, while Butchy would typically make some snide remark about her or try to goad her into an argument of some sort, he couldn’t find it in himself to try. Despite Carrie’s clipped remark about how quiet it was that morning - a sign that even she had noticed Butchy’s silence - he couldn’t bring himself to care. His focus was solely aimed at Mick as she turned from one page to another.

By the time the breakfast notice echoed through the grounds, Carrie and Miles had left the cabin to sit outside with the kids, leaving Butchy and Mick to their own devices. Butchy was almost certain that Miles would use the time to tell the others that something wasn’t quite right with Mick - his brotherly instincts toward the young woman too strong to fight - and he was grateful for the peace and quiet all the same. Mick either hadn’t noticed their solitude or simply hadn’t voiced her opinion on the situation, but either way, it allowed Butchy to move across the couch and get a closer look at his wife’s condition.

Apart from her tired outward appearance, Butchy couldn’t be sure if anything was wrong. She hadn’t coughed or sneezed, she hadn’t rushed to the bathroom to be sick, and she wasn’t shuddering from a cold shiver that nobody else seemed to have. If it weren’t for her skin taking on a pale, sunken-in appearance, he wouldn’t be worried. She looked exhausted and Butchy hoped that it was just that - exhaustion. He hoped it wasn’t something serious. He wasn’t quite sure how he would handle it if it was something more than that. 

Regardless, as the call for breakfast came through over the speakers and the others came inside to grab raincoats or umbrellas, Butchy watched as Mick tucked a sticky note into the book she had been occupied with and rose from the couch, making her way toward the coat rack where she grabbed her trusty poncho. Butchy was quick to follow her, hoping to keep an eye on her as much as he could until he could figure out what was wrong. He would give her a few days and check in with her to see how she was holding up. Maybe she just needed to take a break and recuperate from the stress of the previous week. Yeah, Butchy thought to himself, maybe that was it.

Weathermen were good liars. Anyone in the northeastern United States could tell you that. It seemed as though all the news companies decided to band together one day and lie to everyone about the weather for the rest of human existence. If they forecasted hurricane-force winds or strong thunderstorms, the most any New Englander would feel were some light breezes or a drizzling of rain. It was when they reported sunshine that you knew something was up. Unless you were already dealing with a heat wave, you knew that smiling cartoon of a sun wearing sunglasses on the television screen would be taunting you with the idea of a nice, warm, sunny day. 

The ever-changing, New England weather was nothing new to Hayley Mays. She had grown up in New Hampshire’s bipolar weather; her skin thickening with the winter cold and tanning with the summer sun. Almost all of her thirty-eight years of life had been spent either swimming in the nearby lake or shoveling snow out of her neighbors’ driveways with her sister. And she had done both of those things in the same week more than once.

Hayley had grown used to the weatherman’s constant lies. Brian Strzempko and his pack of lies greeted her nearly every morning when she would go downstairs for breakfast at her parents’ house, spouting off about the expected hail or “three inches” of snow. Every morning, she would roll her eyes; someone needed to get that man a ruler. Nowadays, Hayley and Charlie would get their news off of their phones and, even though Hayley still refused to believe whatever the forecast was, she knew Charlie still had the false hope that whoever made the forecast would be right. Granted, Charlie wasn’t from New England and presumably trusted the meteorologists back in Virginia. 

Hayley had been fairly surprised when she discovered in college that the news anchors in Virginia didn’t lie nearly as much as they did in her home state. When she had questioned Charlie about it, her - at the time - twenty-year-old friend was confused, but it was obvious that the confusion had quickly washed away after she moved to New Hampshire a handful of years down the road. Regardless of the weathermen and the lies they fed the people, Charlie still checked her weather app religiously and Hayley still wondered why.

Take that Monday, for example. The forecast called for a party-cloudy day with a high of eighty-one degrees - a simple, sunny day with low humidity. Despite Hayley’s discrete eye roll as her beloved wife read out the forecast over their morning tea session, Charlie had chosen to wear her finest pair of overall shorts and a pink, frilly tee with lace lining. Hayley, on the other hand, kept it simple with a pair of gray shorts she’d bought from the men’s section for extra length and a shirt from an old bowling alley she had worked at, keeping her clear plastic, raincoat wrapped around her waist for the inevitable downpour.

She wasn’t going to admit defeat as they touched down on the pine-needle-laden ground, the sun blaring down overhead. Even as the sun rose higher and the heat began to grow, Hayley refused to hang her coat up. As she and Charlie parted ways - Hayley busying herself with painting while Charlie worked with the playhouse staff to set up for the next two weeks of play practice - she handed her trust raincoat to her wife with a knowing smile and a bid of good luck and made her way to the art barn.

Having gotten quite used to the presence of her biological daughter’s best friend, Hayley offered Bentley a gentle smile as the boy looked up from the lump of clay he was attempting to shape. “How’s it coming, little man?”

“It’s not,” Bentley sighed as Hayley approached him. “I was trying to make a coffee mug for Miles but my foot hit the pedal while I was smoothing it with the spatula thing and I ended up stabbing a hole in it and it caved in on itself.”

“Yeesh,” Hayley cringed, examining the blob of clay on Bentley’s tray. “Starting from scratch again?”

“I’m gonna try,” Bentley nodded, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

Pushing the boy’s hair from his face, Hayley grabbed an extra elastic from her wrist and secured his hair in a little bump before pressing a kiss to his forehead with a smile of encouragement. “Well, you know where to find me if you need help.”

“And I probably will,” Bentley chuckled. 

Hayley nudged the teenager as she began walking away, “You and I both know that isn’t true. You’re an incredible artist, Ben.”

“Thanks, Aunt Hayley.”

Hayley’s hand froze as she searched the drying racks for the canvas she had been working on recently. It wasn’t often that Vivien’s friends called her by anything more than her first name or “Vivien’s aunt” - save for Riven, who had always claimed he considered her the aunt he never had. While she welcomed the term with ease normally, this was the first time Bentley had chosen to do so. Turning to smile at the young boy, Hayley watched as he worked on the clump of clay before him, having already moved on from the conversation. 

Taking in a breath, Hayley hummed softly and pulled her canvas from the racks, setting up an easel near the window so that she could watch the weather change and keep an eye on the youngest boy at the camp. While they worked, Hayley found herself listening as the young boy to her left began humming old songs, occasionally joining him when she knew the tune. Whether he noticed or not, she didn’t know, but the small, wordless interaction brought a smile to her face all the same. Just as they worked their way to the chorus of Elvis Presley’s famous “(You’re the) Devil In Disguise”, a deep growl of thunder rumbled overhead, signaling a storm inbound.

Glancing out the window at the playhouse where everyone began carrying things inside to keep them safe from the rain, Hayley snickered softly to herself, “Told ya so.”

“Huh?” Bentley wondered, looking over from his seat.

Hayley shook her head with a smile, “Just something I said to Charlie this morning.”

Shrugging, Bentley returned to his work and Hayley glanced out the window once more, watching as her wife hastily grabbed a piece of plastic from one of the nearby picnic tables and pulled it over her shoulders, tugging the hood over her head in disbelief as she began instructing her fellow staff members on where to put everything. Hayley grinned as she returned to her painting, allowing the gentle pattering of rain on the roof to ease her back into her work. However, it wasn’t long before the door of the art barn swung open and slammed shut once again, revealing a rather soaked Makana Birch. 

As the girl turned to rest against the door, wide-eyed and out of breath from running, Hayley got a good look at her. The girl’s cheap, knock-off Converse squelched puddles on the hardwood floors, her hair clung to her skin as though it had been glued down, and her shirt would have been see-through if it wasn’t red, but that wasn’t what caught Hayley’s eye. Instead, it was Mick’s pair of recently tie-dyed, terry cloth shorts that clearly didn’t get rinsed out well enough as they dripped a myriad of colors down the girl’s legs. It didn’t seem as though Mick noticed the issue as she stared up at the ceiling and fought to catch her breath, but Hayley quickly realized Bentley had seen it as well.

Before Bentley could say anything, Hayley stood from her seat and put a hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking her head when he looked up at her. Nodding understandingly, Bentley watched as Hayley crossed the room and grabbed a towel from the closet where they kept some backup umbrellas and rain ponchos along with the cleaning supplies. Handing Mick the towel, Hayley made sure she was breathing well enough before asking, “What happened to you?”

Wrapping the soft towel around her shoulders, Mick sucked in a breath and explained, “We were cleaning the pool and got the town’s all-call about some potential tornados in the area. Noah and some of the others took off to warn the people in the music hall and dance studio while I put everything away. This is my first stop.”

“And your last,” Hayley commented, prying Mick from the door and ushering her to a chair that had enough dried paint on it that it could probably be kept in an art exhibit.

“What do you mean?” Mick asked, using the ends of the towel to dry her face slightly as Hayley led her away.

This time, it was Bentley who answered as he wheeled his seat over toward Mick, “You look like you’re bleeding a rainbow out of your shorts.”

Moving the towel from her face, Mick looked down and let out a shocked breath as she took in the state of her legs. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whined. “I just made these shorts two days ago!”

Bentley attempted to hide his smirk as he said, “Now they look like the inside of a bag of M&Ms when you hold it too long.”

Mick let out a disgruntled noise as she dropped into her chair, examining her stained skin with a look of disdain. “How on earth am I going to get this off?”

“We’ll try some petroleum jelly,” Hayley spoke calmly. “That’s how I used to get hair dye of my skin. If it doesn’t work, we’ll get some rubbing alcohol or acetone. We’ll find a way to get it off.”

Mick heaved a sigh, glancing at her hands to make sure she hadn’t gotten dye on her fingers before running them through her hair, pushing clinging strands from her face. “I think I’m going to go back to the cabin. Maybe a shower will get some of it off.”

“Maybe,” Bentley commented. “I’ll bring some acetone just in case.”

Mick brushed him off with a wave of her hand, “I should be fine. I think there should still be some under the sink from when Vivien painted Miles’ nails while he was sleeping.”

Hayley let out a snort of laughter, “He sure has his work cut out for him with that kid around.”

Mick nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as she rose from her chair. Handing the towel back to Hayley, she sighed, “I’d better go before everyone crowds the place. I’ll see you guys later.”

Though Hayley looked ready to argue for the girl to stay until the rain lightened, Mick made her exit quick, clicking the door shut behind herself before running down the path toward the beach. Making her way toward the front of the building, Hayley watched Mick run toward where the sand and grass met, keeping an eye on her until she disappeared from sight. “Hm,” she hummed to herself as she slowly turned toward Bentley, “did she seem alright to you?”

Bentley shrugged as he folded the chair Mick had sat on and set it aside. “She was probably just upset about her shorts.”

Hayley nodded thoughtfully; it was plausible. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

When Butchy arrived back at the lodge Monday night, his wife was nowhere to be found. Despite reassurances from both Bentley and Hayley that Mick had returned safely to the wooden cabin, he didn’t allow himself to relax until he saw her silently leave her room. He had followed her to the kitchen area, hoping to figure out why he hadn’t seen her, but she simply explained that she’d had a rough day and wanted time alone to breathe. After spending three years with his now-wife, Butchy understood the silent signal he had been given and allowed her to return to her room with the Hot Pockets she had heated in the microwave. The last time he had seen her that night was when he hesitantly knocked on her door to wish her a good night.

The fog that flooded the area on Tuesday morning brought with it the first sign of sunshine. The distant rays that glowed through the dense fog cast hazy shadows over most of the campground. Although the glowing ball of fire in the sky tried its hardest, it wasn’t quite strong enough to break through the thick clouds and the lingering fog. With more rain forecasted to come in the next few days, it was no surprise that the sky remained gray despite the rising sun pushing its way over the horizon.

Butchy sat on the edge of his bed as he took in the ominous fog that covered the lake like a thick blanket on a cold winter morning. Rainwater from the roof sloshed through the clunky white gutter pipe that rattled against the outer wall of his bedroom, but Butchy paid it little mind. He had listened to it every day it rained and the sound felt more like background noise than an annoyance. As he rose from his bed, Butchy smiled to himself. He was sure that, if Vivien’s grandfather chose the right song, it would feel like they had stepped onto the set of some sort of summer camp, slasher movie from the eighties. Then, just as quickly as the thought had come into his mind, it left as he heard the faintest click from outside his bedroom.

Inching his way to the door, Butchy slowly turned the handle and pulled the door of his room open just enough to see a head of wavy, caramel hair go through the archway into the living room. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and sighed softly; he didn’t want her to feel ambushed first thing in the morning. Hoping to give Mick some time for herself, Butchy wasted a few minutes tidying his already fairly neat room and putting a few clothes in the hamper he would be bringing to the laundry all too soon. After checking his clock once more, Butchy tucked his cell phone into his pocket and grabbed a book from the dresser he had left by the door before heading into the hallway and making his way toward the living room. 

Sure enough, Mick had tucked herself into the corner of the couch as she seemed to do almost every day, her nose buried in a book as she curled herself as close as she could to the back of the couch. The only light she had came from a small, clip-on lamp that Mick had bought ages ago at the dollar store - a cheap, plastic little light that just barely held its angled shape and flickered like a strobe light at a rave if she dared to shift her hands anywhere near the clasp - but after using it for so long, she had grown accustomed to the cheap light and its idiosyncrasies. Butchy had tried to replace the little lamp for her so she wouldn’t have to fight with it so much, but she had stated more than once that she was fine with it and would continue to use it until the light gave out on her. As Mick flipped a page and the light objected to the movement, Butchy heard her muttering a plea for the lamp to continue doing its job as he leaned against the archway.

“You know,” he began, a smile on his face as Mick lifted her gaze from the flickering light before her, “one of these days, that little thing just might electrocute you.”

Mick rolled her eyes, a small grin appearing on her face as she retorted, “If that were to happen, my gravestone would say I died doing what I loved.”

As he approached his wife, Butchy let out a breath of a laugh, “Ah, so you love books more than me?”

“No,” Mick replied with ease as she sat up, allowing Butchy to fill the space between her back and the arm of the couch if he desired, “but if my headstone said that and I died while I was ‘doing you’, that might change the meaning a little bit.”

“Maybe a little,” Butchy agreed as he slid into the space his wife offered him. Once they had relaxed into a comfortable position once more and Butchy felt Mick let out a slow, deep breath as she reclined against him, he asked, “How are you feeling this morning?”

Tucking her makeshift bookmark into the novel in her hands, Mick sighed and set the book aside, “Tired.”

“Did you not sleep well?” Butchy asked. Before Mick could answer, he added, “You could have come to my room for the night; you know that, right?”

“I know,” Mick reassured as she shifted, peering up at her husband, “I think it’s just the weather dragging me down. The heat and humidity were bad enough, but the rain the past few days has just added to it. Now, I feel so drained and I don’t know how to push past it.”

As Butchy threaded his fingers into Mick’s hair, a familiar tingle of electricity coursing up his arm at the contact, he took in a deep breath. He never liked to see Mick upset, especially when he had no idea how to help her. He couldn’t change the weather for her, he couldn’t alter her emotions, and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t read her mind to figure out what was truly bothering her. Although he could feel the slightest hint of uselessness seeping into his skin at the idea of being unable to help his wife, Butchy swallowed thickly and pushed his thoughts aside, pushing a smile onto his face as he wondered, “Why do you have to push past it?”

“What do you mean?” Mick questioned, her eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.

“The last few weeks have been nothing short of overwhelming for you,” Butchy stated. “You’ve been an archery instructor, a lifeguard, and an accomplice to a made-up murder while also dealing with an absurd amount of children and heat. Why not just take the week to relax and let yourself recover?”

With a sigh, Mick shook her head, “I have to get the pool ready; I can’t take time off like that when they need me.”

“You and I both know that the other lifeguards are more than capable of getting everything there ready.” 

“I also have to help with setting up everything in the playhouse this week and making sure everything moves the way it’s supposed to on stage.”

“And I’m sure that the kids would be willing to help if we asked them to,” Butchy tried.

“I can’t ask that of them,” Mick said. “Besides, I promised I would help - I can’t just not show up.”

Butchy tried not to sigh. It was times like these he wished he could make Mick see things through his eyes. Her determination to help people was something he adored about her, but it was also one of her greatest faults. She tended to spread herself paper-thin and would refuse to back down from any commitments she had made despite the overbearing stress that would mount on her shoulders. It was something he was trying to work with her on as she realized just how much of a toll it was putting on herself. However, Butchy knew that now was not the time to try to work things out as she seemed adamant and unwavering.

Instead of arguing his point with Mick, Butchy allowed a small grin to tug at his lips as he pulled her head down, resting her ear over his chest. “Alright,” he relented, “but we’re still going to get some extra help.”

“Why?”

“Because you and I are taking the day off on Saturday,” Butchy said. “We’ll hop in the truck and get away from everything for a day. How does that sound?”

“Heavenly,” Mick breathed.

“Good,” Butchy sighed. “It’ll give us both something to work toward through the week.”

Mick let out a long breath, shifting to lie on her stomach as she brought her arms around her husband’s middle, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” Butchy muttered as he pressed a kiss to Mick’s hair. “You know I would do anything for you.”

“Mhm,” Mick hummed, nodding against Butchy’s shirt as she squeezed him. “And I would for you.”

With their books seemingly forgotten in favor of the comfort they absorbed from the other person’s presence, Mick and Butchy relaxed on the couch, curled up in the corner as they waited for the sun to rise. After an hour or two, the announcement system would crackle to life with some song off of the hastily thrown-together playlist Vivien had sent her grandparents after the first staff meeting seven, almost eight weeks prior. For the time being, they had each other and that was all that mattered. There was no need to rush the morning along. Besides, by the time everyone else chose to pry themselves from their blankets and join them in the living area, they would most likely be invested in their novels; still curled close to each other, but far more relaxed as they squeezed each other's hands before turning a page and celebrated the end of a chapter with a kiss.

Despite Mick trying to convince Butchy to leave well enough alone, he had still asked the kids to help out with the duties Mick had signed herself up for. With Bentley and Royce helping in the playhouse and Vivien dragging Noah and his girlfriend into helping her at the pool, things seemed to finish a lot faster than they normally would have. By noon on Wednesday, everything in the playhouse was set for the upcoming performance, and the pool had been drained, cleaned, re-filled, shocked, and prepped for the upcoming weeks. With nothing else to do for the rest of the day, Mick was stationed with Vivien and Riven in the main office, the three of them trying to figure out what the next week would bring.

It wasn’t odd for the three to be pulled aside and asked to help in the office as they were three staff members who had grown up in the camp and knew what most kids wanted. However, as the mid-week rush of phone calls from eager parents practically glued Riven to the chair by the phone as he reassured everyone that their payments had gone through and that their children were on the roster for the upcoming weeks, the task of figuring out something to do for the next week or so was left solely on the shoulders of two brunettes.

“We can’t just do water balloon fights every day of the week, Viv,” Mick argued with a roll of her eyes. “Not only would it get boring after a few days, but it would also be a pain in the ass to clean up.”

“Not if we got those reusable ones off of TikTok!” Vivien tried. When she took in the unwavering look in Mick’s eyes, she sighed and scratched the idea off of her list, “Fine. How about doing a gold rush?”

“We did that last year,” Mick sighed, tapping her pencil on the table. “Five teenagers got into a fight in the makeshift saloon and we had to bring two of them to the emergency room with broken body parts.”

“Okay,” Vivien breathed, crossing out yet another of her ideas.

“How about we do a monster mash?” Mick suggested, resting the eraser of her pencil next to the idea. “We haven’t done that in a few years.”

“And with good reason,” Vivien snickered. “Remember that kid who dressed up like a Demogorgon and snuck into Kittery Cabin in the middle of the night? Grandpa and Nonna had to deal with calls from angry parents for weeks afterward because of all the nightmares the kids were having.”

“Guess we can cross that off too,” Mick muttered as she blocked off another idea. After scanning her list again, Mick crossed off a few more ideas and sighed, “I think that’s all of my ideas. Please tell me you have something good on yours.”

Vivien hummed thoughtfully, looking over her list and sighing as she crossed a few off the list. Bringing everyone figure skating or horseback riding wasn’t the greatest of ideas, water balloon dodgeball was off the table, they didn’t have enough time to put together a Ninja Warrior course, game show weeks never went well, and junkyard wars always ended up with broken friendships as everyone fought to have their machine made a certain way. With everything else crossed off, Vivien was left with a total of three ideas on her extensive paper, and, to her dismay, only one of them seemed good enough to be used.

“Well,” Vivien drawled hesitantly, “the carnival is coming to Laconia next week.”

“The carnival?”

“Yeah,” Vivien nodded, “you know, like with the Ferris wheel, the Round-Up, and the Yo-Yo? Someone always gets sick after one of the Pharoh rides and the whole place has this overwhelming smell of fried dough, snow cones, and popcorn?”

Of course, Mick knew what she meant. She had been to the carnival every year for as long as she could remember. Whether it was riding in the spinning pumpkins or zipping along on Rockstar Racers, Mick had always enjoyed the local carnival. Taking everyone to the carnival for the week would be a fun break from the norm and, in theory, it could work. Every camper was supposed to have money on them for excursions and, even if the camp needed to pitch in to get some kids into the fairgrounds, it wouldn’t be an outlandish amount of money. 

Slowly, Mick nodded. “We’ll have to run it by Chief and Nonna first to see if they’d be up to it, but I think that just might be our best shot at having a plan for the week.”

Holding her hand out palm-up, Vivien beamed as Mick high-fived her. “A week full of rides, fried food, and children screaming at the tops of their lungs.”

With a soft chuckle, Mick nudged the girl as she asked, “You plan on being one of those screaming children?”

Vivien shrugged as she tugged her elastic from her hair, “For one reason or another, yeah.”

“What do you mean?” Mick wondered as she picked up her pencil and wrote Vivien’s idea on her notepad.

Vivien sighed as she pulled her hair into a ponytail, “Well, I’ll either be screaming because of the rides or because of the insane cramps I’ve been getting. Either way, there will be screaming.”

“Did you take anything for them?”

“Tylenol,” Vivien confirmed.

“But it isn’t touching it?”

“Nope.”

“You could have asked me for some,” Mick sighed. “Me or Carrie. We would have given you something.”

Once again, Vivien shrugged, “It doesn’t really matter. I’ll work out some and drink extra water and I’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll be over in three days anyway.”

“That’s it?” Mick asked as she rose from her seat. When Vivien nodded, Mick scoffed, “You lucky little shit. My period lasts at least a week.”

Vivien smiled, chuckling as she stood and followed Mick to the door, “Yeah, well, I don’t get my period often at all, so it usually hits hard and then goes away after maybe two or three days.”

“Oh,” Mick breathed. “Do you have an IUD? I heard that those stop your period.”

“No, I just don’t get them a lot,” Vivien admitted. “I don’t need birth control anyway.”

“Be grateful you don’t yet,” Mick sighed. “When I was testing the waters, I tried one that basically destroyed me. When you start looking around, make sure to check the side effects before you jump in.”

Although Vivien nodded, she let out a breath before swallowing and admitting, “You know, I don’t think that will be a problem for me.”

“Maybe not,” Mick shrugged, “but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

“I know, it’s just…” Vivien stalled as her voice drifted off, her fingers twisting nervously in the strings of her hoodie. “I won’t need birth control.”

Mick stopped, turning to the younger girl with a smile that looked as though she knew everything going through the young brunette’s mind. “Vivi, I know you and Royce aren’t there quite yet - and to that, I applaud you both - but there may come a time where that could change. If it does, you’ll need to be looking into those things.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Vivien said with a shake of her head. Stepping close to the older girl, Vivien reached out a hesitant hand, slipping her fingers into Mick’s hand as she lowered her voice and admitted, “Mickie, I won’t need it because I can’t get pregnant.”

As though she had been caught in a game of freeze tag, Mick stood still, looking over the girl before her with wide eyes. “What?”

“My mom took me to the doctors before summer started to see about birth control because Royce and I were spending the summer here,” Vivien stated. “Something about her knowing what the staff members get up to when the adults aren’t looking.”

“Understandable,” Mick breathed. After all, she knew all too well just how easy it was for counselors to sneak off when they had nothing better to do.

Vivien shrugged, “Yeah, well, when I brought up to my doctor how irregular my periods are, she decided to run a few tests to see if there were any underlying things going on. They tested me for endometriosis, a few autoimmune disorders, and a bunch of other stuff while they were at it.”

“And?”

“And they found I have PCOS,” Vivien admitted. “It won’t kill me or anything, but it causes infertility. They put me on a medication to test how it works on me and, while I still won’t get pregnant if it helps, it should make things a bit easier as time goes on.”

Mick nodded as she took in the information. Then, with a tentative look in her eyes, she asked, “You’re okay with not having kids?”

“They’re cute and all, but to be honest, I never wanted them,” Vivien chuckled. “I’d rather be the cool aunt who babysits, spoils them silly, and sends them back to their parents. Besides, I only recently started getting more confident in how I look, and the idea of my stomach expanding and having to push something the size of a bowling ball out of my vagina sounds horrifying to me.”

With a chuckle, Mick shook her head before sending a smile Vivien’s way and wrapping an arm around the teen’s shoulders, pulling her close as she began walking toward the office door. “You’d rather be the auntie, huh?”

“Only the coolest auntie to ever walk the face of the earth,” Vivien agreed. “I’d take them to the mall and to the movies, teach them to skate, and do all the fun stuff with them that their parents don’t wanna do.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Absolutely.”

Mick snickered, squeezing Vivien to her side as she opened the door to the front desk, “Well, then you’ll have your work cut out for you once the rest of us start popping out kids left, right, and center.”

Vivien let out a snort, “Did they not make you watch that nightmare-fuel movie in school because, believe me, you won’t be popping anything out of anywhere.”

Rolling her eyes, Mick nudged Vivien into the office and allowed the conversation to drop as the younger brunette made her way to where Riven was sitting, talking on the phone with someone neither of them could make out. From the look of it, however, Mick had gotten the better end of the deal as Riven ran a frustrated hand through his hair. As Vivien perched herself on the desk and began taunting Riven by mimicking whoever was on the phone, Mick smiled, shaking her head at the girl’s antics as she pulled out her phone. Unlocking the device, she sent a quick message to Vivien's grandmother about the idea the girl had proposed before switching to the conversation she had been having with her husband.

After rereading the last messages they had sent each other, Mick smiled to herself and brought up her keyboard before typing, ‘How do you feel about having a movie night with everyone? We can get some popcorn, string up a sheet in the living room, and just spend time together.’

The response came quicker than she had anticipated as her phone pinged. ‘Sounds good to me,’ Butchy had typed. ‘Might have to wait until tomorrow, though. Someone fell from the rock wall and we’re waiting on an ambulance.’

‘Does it look that bad?’ she tapped quickly.

‘Worse,’ was Butchy’s first response. ‘We’ll probably have a staff meeting on safety once they get back from the hospital.’

‘Oh yay,’ Mick typed, hoping her sarcasm came through loud and clear. By Butchy’s quickly sent laughing emoji, she guessed it had. ‘Guess we’ll pick out a movie tomorrow then.’

‘Guess so,’ Butchy replied. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ Mick quickly sent. ‘It happens. I’ll see you after.’

‘Ok, love you.’

‘Love you too.’

The overpowering stench of charred popcorn filled the air as the window above the kitchen sink was pushed open. Most of the cabin would smell the blackened remnants of the buttery snack within a few minutes if they couldn’t already and, although the window was open, it wouldn’t do much to rid the log cabin of the overwhelming smell. While Royce was immensely glad he was the only one close enough to have to face the full force of the stench, he still felt as though it choked him, resulting in him taking a quick gulp of air before making his way to the microwave. 

Quickly opening the silver and black box, Royce grabbed the bag by the corner and hastily closed the microwave before making his way to the window where he held the bag of decently scorched popcorn outside to air out. He could have easily taken it out the back door, opened the bag, and thrown the inedible food out on the grass for the birds and squirrels, but he wasn’t sure they would take it either. The only thing he was sure about was that he was going to have to avoid the kitchen for a few days until the smell no longer permeated every inch of the space.

For once, the horrendously burned food wasn’t due to Mick’s dad attempting to cook and he was almost positive that he was going to end up being the focus of his friends’ teasing for a while as a result. One thing Royce could never manage to properly make in the modern world was popcorn and, despite Vivien’s many efforts to teach him not to trust the instructions on the backs of the bags, he simply couldn’t manage to make a bag without burning some. If it had been something like Jiffy Pop where he could make the popcorn on the stove like they did back home, he would have been fine. However, the modern world had changed and, although the stovetop popcorn was still available in stores, not a single shop in Sanbornton kept them in stock and he wasn’t about to make anyone take the trip out to a bigger store just so that he could make popcorn. After all, he wasn’t even supposed to be in charge of the popcorn.

Miles had originally been tasked to make the snack as he had some magical knowledge as to how to add butter throughout the bowl without it all getting soggy and gross. However, as he was pulled away to help Butchy and Vivien hang up the sheet in the living room, Royce was left monitoring the bag of now-burnt popcorn. Thankfully, two other bags had already been made up, but Royce wasn’t sure anyone would want him searching through the cupboards for another packet that would just end up charred. 

Before he could attempt to bring the bag back inside and dispose of it, a voice from the hallway got his attention. “Royce?” a voice he knew all too well asked. Rolling his eyes, Royce turned to see Carrie entering the kitchen with her nose crinkled in disgust. “Is everything okay in here?”

Royce took in a deep breath and sighed before pulling the burnt popcorn inside and tossing it in the trash, “Peachy-fucking-keen.”

“What happened?” Carrie asked as she reached for the refrigerator door.

“Have you lost all sense of smell or something?” Royce questioned, sarcasm filling his tone. 

Grabbing the tray of jiggling Jello cups from the shelf in the fridge, Carrie tried not to sound snippy as she replied, “I can smell the burnt popcorn, but I wanted to know if everything was alright.”

“It’s fine,” Royce sighed. “I’ll just have Miles make a new one when he’s done with whatever he’s doing.”

“They’re trying to figure out how to hang up the sheet without it falling down again,” Carrie chuckled as she set the tray of Jello cups on the counter. “If you want, I can make up the next bag if you want to take this out there and try helping them.”

Although Royce could have easily said no and pushed off the blonde’s offer with a snarky response, he didn’t particularly feel like starting a fight, especially not when Miles had recently praised him for working so well with Carrie in the playhouse. In all honesty, the pair had spent little time together as Riven kept him distracted, but the way Miles had smiled when he sang Royce’s praises that night made him feel as though he was doing something helpful. If sucking it up and dealing with Carrie’s, well, everything would make Miles happier with him, he could manage. Stepping up to the counter, Royce eyed the jiggling snack with a raised eyebrow as he asked, “What even is that?”

Carrie smiled as Royce glanced her way, prepared to explain, however, her words remained in her throat as an excited squeal brought their attention to the doorway of the kitchen. “Jello shots!” Mick sang.

Royce glanced down at the cups before asking, “Like, alcohol shots?”

“Not all of them,” Carrie commented as Mick grabbed a handful of spoons from the drawer. “Most of them are just Jello and juice.”

“These ones, however,” Mick began as she grabbed a cup with a tiny, toothpick flag sticking out of it, “have vodka.”

“And you guys can’t have them,” Carrie added.

Mick shrugged, “Technically, they can if they get permission and don’t plan on leaving camp, but I doubt Miles would want them getting drunk.”

“Not like we’d want to anyway,” Royce said with a small smirk.

“Good,” Mick commented, placing her handful of spoons on the tray. “Were you taking these to the living room?”

Before Carrie could say that she was planning on doing just that, Royce said, “I can. Do you want me to?”

“I need to grab the sherbet and a big bowl for Charlie’s infamous punch, so yeah, that would be great,” Mick said with a brilliant smile. 

The girls watched as Royce took the tray from the counter and headed out of the room with a small smile tugging at his lips. Once he was gone, Mick turned to grab the sherbet from the freezer and Carrie reached into a nearby cupboard for a bowl. Glancing over her shoulder at the brunette who was elbow-deep in the freezer, Carrie asked, “How do you do it?”

Pulling herself and a plastic tub of orange sherbet from the freezer, Mick’s head lilted to the side as she asked in return, “Do what?”

Gesturing toward the doorway, Carrie clarified, “Get Royce so at ease around you. I swear, he must think I’m some cartoon villain or something.”

Mick let out a soft chuckle as she hefted the tub onto the counter, “You’re probably not far off.”

Carrie sighed as she placed a large bowl on the counter, “I mean, Bentley is finally starting to warm up to me, but Royce still can’t stand me unless someone’s there to break things up.”

Taking in a deep breath, Mick grinned as she admitted, “Well, if it gives you any comfort, I know the feeling.”

“You do?” Carrie questioned. When Mick nodded, she asked, “How? They both adore you.”

“They do, yeah,” Mick nodded. “But I’m not talking about them.”

If Mick’s previous confession hadn’t confused Carrie already, her new statement certainly did. “If not them, then who?”

Mick chuckled, “Normally, I’d say ‘like father, like son’, but since they’re brothers…”

“Miles?” Carrie asked incredulously. It was hard to imagine Miles being anything but the brotherly figure in Mick’s life. The two got along so well that, if Carrie hadn’t known the relationship between them prior to meeting Mick, she would have guessed they were related by some extension. She couldn’t picture the oldest of the Murphy brothers being anything but protective and loving toward the brunette before her.

With a nod, Mick smiled, “Bingo.”

“But you two are like siblings.”

“We are.”

“What happened?”

Mick chuckled as she pushed herself to sit on the countertop, “Well, as I said, it was a lot like what’s happening with you and the boys. I started dating Butchy when I was almost eighteen and, by that time, Miles had been living with Butchy and Lela for almost a year. They were as close as close could be, but then I came along.”

Leaning on the counter and looking up at the brunette who was normally right around her height, Carrie asked, “Did he not like you?”

“At first, we were fine,” Mick admitted. “We were friends - the four of us. Then, when things between me and Butchy started to change, Miles grew overprotective of him and Lela and began pushing me aside.”

“I can’t imagine that lasted long,” Carrie chuckled.

“Longer than I would have liked,” Mick mused. “Maybe half a year at most.”

Carrie nodded slowly; it seemed as though Miles was the easiest of the brothers to rope in. “How did you manage to make it to where you are now?”

“Not easily,” Mick snorted. “He fought me tooth and nail while all I wanted was for us to go back to the way things were. It wasn’t until I showed up at their door, bloody and bruised, that he finally stopped.”

“What happened to you?” Carrie pressed. “I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but-”

Mick’s laugh cut the blonde off, “I don’t mind. It was actually kind of dumb. I was playing volleyball with some of the surfers and, when I dove for the ball, it bounced off of my arms and slammed into my face. It looked a lot worse than it was, but I insisted I would be fine after cleaning myself up, so I went to Butchy’s house to see if I could clean up and use their first aid kit.”

“That must not have gone over too well,” Carrie mused. Lela on her own probably wasn’t bad - she would have probably allowed logic to drive her into helping her friend once the panic wore off - but Carrie could only imagine the chaos that came from having both Butchy and Miles fussing over Mick’s bloodied face.

“About as well as you’d expect,” Mick shrugged. “Miles opened he door, took one look at me, and all of a sudden, it was like a switch had been flipped. He pulled me inside, led me to the couch, called for Butchy and Lela, and started trying to stop the bleeding while he questioned me as to what had happened. After that, things calmed down considerably and now we’re practically family.”

“I can’t imagine Royce and I getting to that point,” Carrie breathed. “I think he’d probably enjoy seeing me all broken and bloody.”

“Yeah, no,” Mick snorted with a shake of her head. “Royce may not like you yet, but he certainly wouldn’t want you to get hurt. He might not react quite the same as Miles would, but he would still try to help. He knows how much you mean to Miles.”

Though Carrie wasn’t entirely sure she believed Mick’s hopeful words, the thought was nice. If the situation was reversed and Royce had been injured, she would try to help him despite how strained their relationship was; she could only hope he would do the same for her if she needed him to. “Maybe you’re right.”

Mick hummed as she pushed herself off of the countertop and grabbed the tub of sherbet, “Well, let’s hope we don’t have to find out anytime soon.”

Carrie chuckled, nodding as she grabbed the large bowl she had taken from the cupboard, “No injuries for me, please.”

“Yeah,” Mick nodded as she led the way out of the kitchen, ready to finally sit down and watch a movie with the group that had gathered in the living room.

Despite the light rain showers that came in short bursts throughout Friday morning, the sky began to clear after lunch, bringing brilliant hues of blue through the breaking clouds. Warm breezes brushed through the camp as many staff members donned their swimsuits and spent the afternoon on the beach or in the lake. A select few had taken to dragging some of the canoes and kayaks from the boathouse to cruise around the lake while the majority either tanned or swam through the cool lake water.

The sunshine didn’t last long, however, as gray clouds decorated the horizon by the time everyone was preparing to head to dinner. While most chose to wrap towels around their already drenched swimsuits so they didn’t have to worry about getting any more wet on the way back to their cabins from the mess hall, others chose to change into dry clothes and keep an umbrella or rain poncho with them on their walk to the mess hall.

As groups formed and friends began talking about everything and nothing all at once, Riven made his way to the end of the line and grabbed a tray for his food. Although Erica and Jade were with him, spouting off about midnight swimming and a game they wanted to play soon, Riven’s mind had wandered. Once the summer was over, he officially had nothing to do. He had done an eight-week college course and gotten his photography degree online before the summer started, and his job at the tattoo shop in Laconia was infrequent as he was still in training. Once the summer was over, the only thing he had to do was train on the ice. 

Sure, he could have taken a job at his dad’s car dealership, but he didn’t exactly like being there every day. It was insanely boring sitting at a desk, helping people pick out cars. How his dad managed to do it almost every day, he didn’t know. His dad was adamant that he didn’t need help paying the bills, but his weekly photography job for the local paper was more than enough to cover the cable and electric bills he had swapped into his name without his dad’s knowledge. It was the least he could do. However, with not having to do much work to get paid and practically nothing else to do, Riven wondered just how boring the rest of the year would be.

Riven sighed as he took another step forward; at least he had the band and their little Dungeons and Dragons party to keep him busy. Without them, he would be bored out of his mind all the time. With Jade and Erica working at the mall, it was easy for Riven to snatch Vivien and drive her to the mall for a quick session while the others were on their lunch breaks, but with the school year starting and Vivien taking on a joint year to graduate early, those days of fighting magical beings while sitting around a sticky booth in the food court would be coming to an end. 

Sure, they still had their weekends where they could sit in Erica’s apartment and play a bit of their campaign or settle down in Riven’s basement to practice their music for the concerts they had yet to play, but it just wasn’t the same as the summertime hangouts they used to have.

Maybe he would ask the girls to meet him in the music hall to go through some of the songs he had been working on. Normally, he left the songwriting to Erica as that was her specialty, but he had written a few songs himself here and there. Maybe they would feel up to spending some time playing music like they used to. Hell, everyone could be there for all he cared. He just wanted to do something before the summer ended and everyone went back to business as usual.

As Riven stepped up to the first section of the buffet displays, a hand waved in front of his face, jolting him from his thoughts. “Yo, dipshit, are you in there?”

Turning toward Erica with a raised brow, Riven asked, “What?”

"You were spacing out there for a while," Mick mused as she rounded Riven in search of some waffle fries.

"Yeah," Erica confirmed.

“Mick and Bentley said you guys are having a game night tonight,” Jade spoke. “We were wondering if we could come.”

“Yeah,” Riven nodded automatically despite not having known about the game night. “Of course you can.”

"Told you so," Bentley said with a smile.

“Cool,” Erica mused. “You guys planning on breaking out Cards Against Humanity again?”

"We might," Mick said with a shrug.

“Please do,” Jade begged with a cackle. “I would kill to see Butchy’s face!”

Erica choked on a laugh as she grabbed some cutlery, “I know, right! He acts like some forty-year-old virgin with some of those cards.”

“Says the one who gave him half of the dirty cards in the deck,” Riven chuckled.

“It was so worth it,” Erica claimed with a contented sigh.

Mick shook her head with a fond smile, “I wasn’t sure he was going to make it through the night without bursting a blood vessel or something.”

Riven smirked, “I thought he was going to when he found out Bentley was the one that had given him that card about having a threesome with Shaquille O’Neal.”

“And I’d do it again,” Bentley remarked as he walked behind Riven to grab some french fries.

“Do you even know what that card means?” Erica questioned the boy, leaning forward slightly to see him.

Bentley slowly nodded, “I made the mistake of googling it after I handed it over.”

Jade let out a bark of a laugh before slapping a hand over her mouth as Riven snickered, “Big mistake, kid.”

“You’re telling me,” Bentley sighed. “I wanted nothing more than to bleach my eyes after that.”

Mick snickered, “Next time we play, I can sit next to you and we can just swap cards if you want.”

“Maybe,” the fifteen-year-old shrugged, a smirk growing on his face, “but I kind of liked watching Butchy freak out like that.”

“Welcome to the dark side,” Erica smiled, nudging the blond boy with her elbow as she reached between him and Mick to grab some waffle fries. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Bentley smiled and began making himself a burger as Mick maneuvered around him to pour herself some ketchup and Riven stepped up beside him, taking some potato wedges from the metal dish they sat in. Glancing at his bandmates, the older boy cleared his throat and said, “You know, I was thinking we could go up to the music hall tomorrow and work on some new songs. You guys feel up to it?”

Jade readily agreed as Erica sighed, “I haven’t been writing much at all this summer.”

“That’s alright,” Riven reassured. “I know it’s been a bit hectic for you guys at the pool. Besides, I’ve got a few that I’ve been working on in my free time; maybe we can work on those.”

“Sure,” Jade nodded.

“That works,” Erica decided.

“Can I listen to the new songs?” Bentley piped up, placing the top of his burger bun on his carefully constructed sandwich. “I always love your music.”

"Me too," Mick agreed as she set the ketchup bottle down.

“You guys have heard our music?” Jade asked.

"Most of our cabin has at this point," Mick said as she left to find a seat at their table.

Bentley nodded, moving aside so the others had access to the rest of the buffet as he said, “Viv plays recordings for us on the TV now and then. It’s kinda like watching a concert.”

“Someday, we’ll play an actual concert,” Erica stated as she piled a handful of chips onto her plate. “We’ll perform a setlist we’ve created on a huge stage with bright lights, brand-new instruments, and rows and rows of screaming fans.”

“I hope I’ll be there when it happens,” Bentley said with a smile. “It sounds incredible."

“Are you kidding, half-pint?” Riven asked rhetorically, ruffling Bentley’s hair before wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders and guiding him toward the table they always sat at. “You’ll have a backstage pass.”

There were some days that Mick felt as though she had lived through many lives as a parent. Not only had she worked as a babysitter in her preteen years, but she had also been somewhat of an older sister figure to Vivien, her siblings, and their respective gaggles of friends. Once she was old enough to be left home alone, she was tasked with going down the street to the O’Brian household to babysit their kids while the parents worked in the winery. As they grew older and gained friends, Mick grew accustomed to seeing random kids show up at the house, asking for one kid or another to come out and play. She also grew used to the ups and downs of living like a parent.

More than once, she had woken up to a sick child asking to cuddle up to her or had to drag an exhausted teenager from the comfort of their bed. Despite no longer needing to babysit for cash to blow on the weekends, Mick was still living like a child-wrangler and, although they were old enough to handle themselves, she still treated every child she came into contact with as though they were her own. Vivien, Royce, and Bentley were no exception. 

Mick adored the young trio. Of course, she had grown up knowing Vivien as her next-door neighbor’s kid and the little sister her parents never gave her. Royce and Bentley, on the other hand, were brought into her life far more recently than Vivien had been. Despite only having known them for the better part of a year, she had grown to adore them just as deeply as she knew Miles did. That was why, when she woke up to the three of them quietly carrying a tray of food and some assorted items into her room, her suspicions were high.

“What is all of this?” she asked as she sat up, allowing Royce to place the tray over her legs. 

“We’re not supposed to say,” Bentley claimed, earning a nudge from Royce, who quickly smiled back at Mick.

“We were told to give you the stuff, tell you ‘good morning’, and leave,” the brunet stated.

Understandably concerned, Mick closed her eyes and sighed, “Who did something and - follow-up question - what did they do this time?”

“Nobody did anything,” Vivien snickered. “Well, not yet at least.”

Slowly peeling her eyes open, Mick glanced at the trio before asking, “Do I wanna know?” Instead of getting a direct answer, Mick earned a shrug from Vivien, a knowing smirk from Royce, and a snorted laugh from Bentley. Sighing once again, Mick shook her head, “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Bentley reassured.

“Yeah,” Vivien nodded. “You’ll see.”

Mick glanced at the teenagers and gave them a small smile. “Alright, but if anyone miraculously gets magical powers and ends up lighting something on fire, you three are my scapegoats.”

“How would someone get magical powers?” Royce wondered as Mick picked up her fork and took in a piece of a syrup-coated pancake.

Pointing her fork between Royce and Bentley, Mick lowered her voice and said, “You two are from a parallel universe where it’s nineteen-sixty-three - at this point, anything is possible.”

“Touche,” Royce relented.

Taking her friends by the wrists, Vivien tugged the boys away from Mick’s bed as she said, “Alright, alright, enough chit-chat. Let the girl eat so we can move on with our day.”

Despite her rising intrigue with the situation, Mick silently watched as the trio left her room, each of them wishing her a good morning before disappearing into the hallway and being separated by the door. Choosing to allow the day to continue as it should, Mick turned back to her food and took in some fruit before looking at the two wrapped gifts Vivien and Bentley had brought into the room. They hadn’t said anything about the gifts, but she wasn’t exactly going to tell them to collect them either.

One red and one blue, Mick vaguely wondered if the colors were intentional. If so, she knew they could have been from Butchy. Her favorite color and his - red and blue, respectively - were opposite to what most people assumed and had become something of a running joke between them. Tugging the red-wrapped box toward her, Mick picked it up and examined it, lightly shaking it like one would a Christmas present before setting it beside her on the bed without a clue as to what was inside. The other gift was larger than the first, rectangular, and, although she had copied her previous attempt, she had no notion as to what was inside.

Despite her rising curiosity, Mick set the presents aside and returned to her food, determined to eat it before it got any colder than it was already starting to be. After taking the chance to eat, Mick pushed the tray to the end of her bed and shifted to sit cross-legged before reaching for the two presents she had been given. Although she debated for a moment as to which she could open first, the red one was quick to be unwrapped, revealing a small box with a necklace inside, her first initial and Butchy’s delicately engraved into the face of a heart-shaped locket.

The golden heart was no bigger than the pad of Mick’s thumb and swung from a dainty chain that she feared would break far too easily. All the same, Mick stood from her bed and made her way to the mirror she had hung on the back of her bedroom door, taking a minute to secure the chain at the nape of her neck and examine the delicate new accessory. Smiling at her reflection, Mick ran a hand through her hair to somewhat fix it before making her way back to her bed and perching herself on the edge of her mattress before grabbing the blue gift.

Peeling away at the tape, Mick pulled back the wrapping paper. However, after the final piece of tape was torn away and the blue paper fell away, Mick found herself staring at a newspaper-wrapped object with a folded paper taped to the top of it. Tugging the folded page away from the newspaper, Mick opened it and began reading the cleanly-written note inside.

“‘If I know you the way I think I do, you’ll have opened this second.’” Mick let out a breath of a laugh; her predictability was unwavering and Butchy could read her like a book, so it was no surprise that he had gotten that right as well. “‘Another thing I know is that you’ve probably forgotten our date today since you never asked me about it the last couple of days, but just know that I didn’t. I’ve got it all under control, so all you need to do is show up. Dress cool - it’s supposed to be hot today - but bring your cozy sweatpants since we’ll be out after dark. Meet me at the truck when you’re ready to go.’”

Tipping her phone up from its spot on the nightstand and checking the time on her lock screen, Mick ran a hand through her hair. Sooner or later, everyone would be heading to the mess hall for breakfast. Setting her phone down and placing the note in the drawer of her nightstand, Mick quickly unwrapped the newspaper from the gift and found a novel she had been looking forward to reading - How To Survive Your Murder. With a grin, Mick placed the book beside her phone and stood, making her way to her closet. Pulling out a loose shirt and a pair of simple shorts, she smiled and dragged her hair into a loose bun before getting dressed and taking the opportunity to braid her hair.

Tucking her phone into her pocket, slinging a pair of sweats over her arm, and grabbing her book from the stand by her bed, Mick beamed to herself as she left her room. Though it was no surprise that Butchy was nowhere to be seen in the cabin, she was very surprised to find nobody sitting in the living room, waiting for the breakfast alert to blare throughout the campground. Looking around curiously, she found Miles’ and Carrie’s rooms open as they typically were during the day, letting her know that they had left the cabin already. Making her way to the door, Mick stepped outside and quickly found that almost everyone had gathered on the beach, throwing water balloons at each other like an all-out war.

Chucking at the group that had suddenly turned their aggression on Miles who had chosen to lounge on the sand in the hopes of falling asleep despite the chaos around him, Mick made her way through the sand to the pathways that wound throughout the grounds. As she passed a few counselors who had taken to sitting outside and talking on the porches of their cabins, Mick waved, earning herself a myriad of hastily-given greetings as she continued walking toward the main office. Once the building was in her sight, Mick felt a smile tugging at her lips once more. 

Just beyond the office was the parking lot where a few of the local staff members had left their cars to accumulate pine needles in the shaded spots of unpaved ground. It was there that she spotted her husband’s familiar truck sitting with the hood up. Approaching the vehicle with a raised brow, Mick tentatively deposited her belongings on the passenger’s seat through the open window and stepped around the front of the truck to find her husband holding one of the dipsticks and a napkin they had gotten from a nearby fast food restaurant.

“Everything alright?” she asked, watching as Butchy slid the stick back into its rightful place.

Butchy turned to her with a lopsided smile and nodded as he wiped his hands on the napkin he held. “Just checking the fluids before we head out,” he claimed. “I had to add some transmission fluid when we went shopping the other day and I think there might be a leak in the line somewhere.”

“Not good,” Mick commented. While she was good with machines, cars were like the Italian language to Mick - she knew enough to get by, but nowhere near as much as Butchy did. Taking a step back as Butchy reached for the hood and lifted it off of the support beam to close it, she asked, “Are you sure you want to go today? We can wait and do it some other time if you want to fix the truck first.”

Shaking his head as he dropped the hood into place, Butchy sent a smile in Mick’s direction as he said, “It’s nothing serious. Miles and I can take a look at it some other time. Today is for the two of us.”

Despite the sincerity in Butchy’s eyes, Mick still found it necessary to ask, “Are you sure?”

Taking Mick’s hand in his, Butchy leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, muttering against her skin, “Positive.”

The warm summer air did nothing to stop the tingling shivers that raced through Mick’s shoulders as Butchy’s deep tone rumbled through her. Finding herself incapable of speaking her mind, she simply nodded and allowed him to guide her back to the truck, standing aside as Butchy opened her door for her and helped her climb in. After closing his wife’s door and rounding the truck, Butchy climbed in behind the wheel and buckled himself in, checking to make sure Mick had done the same before turning the vehicle on and backing out of his parking spot.

Once they had reached the end of the bumpy road, Butchy placed his hand palm up on the middle console out of habit, relishing in the gentle glide of Mick’s fingers as she slid her hand into his. Regardless of who was driving, the two almost always held hands while out and about. Whether it was Mick’s flower-power-themed, Volkswagen bus or Butchy’s cherry red, Ram pickup, they could be seen with their hands intertwined over the center console. It was just how they were. The only time they couldn’t hold hands properly was on Butchy’s motorcycle, which was fine as he still had her arms around him as he drove. At first, it was just for protection and a hint of a connection for the two of them as they went places together, but as they swapped cars on vacations, they found ways to keep themselves grounded in each other’s presence.

As Butchy drove, Mick watched out the window at the scenery that blew by. It was times like these they didn’t need words; they only needed each other. The radio, which had connected to Mick’s phone the moment the car turned on, softly played a song she had forgotten she added to her most recent playlist. As trees shifted to buildings and the main stretch of Sanbornton came into view, Mick turned her gaze to her husband, who had a hint of a smile on his face and seemed solely focused on the road before him despite his wife’s soft singing. Lifting their joined hands, Mick pressed a kiss to the back of Butchy’s hand before lowering them to their resting place.

“So, hotshot, where are you taking me?” she asked as the song ended.

Rolling to a stop at a red light, Butchy chuckled as he glanced her way, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would,” Mick remarked. “That would be why I asked.”

“Smartass.”

“Don’t let the kids hear you say that.”

“They aren’t here.”

“True,” Mick nodded. “So, are you going to tell me, or is this a surprise?”

“Surprise,” Butchy confirmed, “but I will tell you that you’ll have a good time.”

Mick hummed, leaning her head against the back of her seat as she mused, “I always have a good time with you.”

Butchy smiled as he squeezed Mick’s hand ever so slightly, “Good.”

The drive only stopped once as they pulled to a stop at a Dairy Queen to get some ice cream - Mick’s statement that ice cream was good any time of day ringing through Butchy’s head as they pulled up to the drive-thru order screen. Once they were back on the road with their ice creams nestled in the cup holders, Butchy continued driving north, bringing them away from the hustle and bustle of the city of Laconia and onto the back roads. Few houses lined the streets as they glided down the road, potholes being the only signs of life as they cruised along the empty streets. By the time their cups of ice cream were empty, they had passed rows of trees and bushes and come to a sparsely populated area. Eventually, Butchy slowed as the GPS warned him that he was approaching their destination and Mick found herself looking around in confusion. On their left was an RV park filled with rows of trailers and the only thing on their right was an empty, obviously unmaintained, parking lot with foliage filling the cracks and a metal gate blocking the entrance. 

However, as Butchy pulled a bit further down and flipped on his turn signal, Mick only found her confusion growing. Butchy pulled to a stop outside of a metal gate and told Mick to stay in the truck as he climbed out with a set of keys in hand. Rounding the truck, he slid one of the keys into the rusty lock and twisted it, dragging away the chain that held the gate in place before pushing it open and heading back to his truck. Once Butchy was back in the truck, Mick asked him what was going on, but he brushed off her concerns with ease as he pulled into the run-down parking lot and passed an old, red building with a moss-coated roof.

Stepping out of the truck once it was parked, Mick looked around, searching for any sign that she knew where they were. As Butchy led her toward the old red building, however, she spotted something that made the location click into her mind like a cassette in a Walkman. “White Oaks?” she breathed. “I thought this place closed down years ago.”

“It did,” Butchy confirmed. “I was talking with Vivien about things to do in the area and she brought up that you guys would come here a lot in the summers. I figured it would be nice to tour the place.”

With a laugh of disbelief, Mick stared at the building before her with wide eyes, “How did you even get a key?”

“I called the number on the for-sale sign by the road,” Butchy shrugged. “The guy was really nice and said we could look around as much as we want so long as we don’t go in the water. Something about it needing to be cleaned.”

“I’d say,” Mick scoffed as she took the lead, wandering into the building. “This place was closed seven years ago. Whatever’s in the water is probably sludgy and toxic by this point.”

Butchy followed his wife as she wandered into the old ticket center with practiced ease. As she looked around the crumbling remains of the building with a smile, Butchy felt the urge to whip out his phone and take a picture of her, but then again, he always felt like that. Before long, Mick got bored of the building and climbed over the ticket turnstiles, prompting Butchy to follow suit as she began making her way into the open air once more. The dilapidated remnants of a water slide loomed in the distance, its rusted metal creaking as the wind blew, rustling the leaves of the vines that crawled up the sides of the structure. Despite its rickety appearance, Mick smiled as though it was brand-new.

Further down the overgrown, concrete trails, they found an old pool with a decaying roof overhead - more than a few ceiling tiles having fallen into the murky abyss that was the lingering swamp of water in the pool. Half filled with rain water and a few chairs that had been unceremoniously dumped by trespassers, the pool had once stood proud and shimmering with glistening, crystalline water and welcomed people of all ages to take a refreshing dip. Now, all that remained were tadpoles and crumbling tiles. Mick had spent most of her childhood behind the pool’s waterfall, pretending to be a mermaid in a shimmering cave-like on one of her favorite shows. Now, however, she couldn’t imagine willingly swimming to the far side of the square pool and waiting for an arch of sludge to come over the embankment to seal her in.

Following the cement paths, they discovered what had once been a splash park and playground. A few of the play structures remained and, if Mick listened over the wind, she was sure she could hear the faintest screeches of laughter emanating from the large pirate ship that she and Vivien had spent hours playing on growing up. In the center of the play area was a pole with a circle at the top. Buckets used to hang from it, dumping water on unsuspecting children once they were filled. The soft ground under the splash park still had some semblance of color to it - its old, floral pattern was now nothing more than sunburnt shades of faded red and blue. Distantly, Mick wondered if the water spouts still worked, but she soon decided she wouldn’t want any of the remaining tank water to spray her down.

Down a set of stairs, Mick made her way to what was once the best wave pool in all of New Hampshire. Or, at least, the one she had deemed to be the best. The large mouth of the pool remained somewhat similar to how she remembered it - a dingy shade of gray with a rope across the front of it, blocking people from entering. Cartoonish signs still hung from the ropes, a little lavender bear wearing pool floaties pouting at the words “Closed for Cleaning and Maintenance.”

Chuckling, Mick held the corner of the sign and said, “It’s Helpy.”

“Helpy?” Butchy repeated.

“Mhm,” Mick hummed. “He was their maintenance mascot who would come out to let everyone know they needed to close something and fix it up. More often than not, it was the wave pool that needed fixing.”

Butchy chuckled as he sarcastically remarked, “Sounds like a great attraction.”

“It was,” Mick nodded, “it just broke down a lot.”

“So Helpy was their solution?”

“No,” Mick began with a shake of her head, “he was there long before they started having issues. You see, they used to have this party hall where you could have birthday parties and stuff. They had these animatronic animals that would sing and put on shows for everyone, but they broke down a lot, so Helpy would come out and try to guide everyone out back while they worked on the animatronics.”

Butchy nodded, “Sounds like that game you and Vivien were into.”

Mick snickered, “Five Nights at Freddy’s?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Why do you think I liked the games so much?” Mick questioned rhetorically. “I loved going to parties here growing up and, when the games came out, I just fell in love. I may not be as much of a gamer as Vivien and the boys are, but I will forever be invested in Five Nights at Freddy’s.”

With a fond smile, Butchy allowed Mick to guide him throughout the rest of the water park, showing him all of her favorite locations and telling him all about the fond memories she had from over the years. After spending a few hours wandering the property, looking in the remaining buildings, and taking as many photographs as Mick desired, they made their way back to the entrance and made their way to Butchy’s truck. Once they were inside and had the air conditioner on to cool them from the heat of the blistering sun, Mick gave a contented sigh.

“What’s up?” Butchy asked as he rolled out of the parking lot.

“That was a lot of fun,” she said with a smile. “I haven’t been there in ages.”

Butchy chuckled as he pushed open his door to lock the gate of the property, “Well, don’t think we’re done yet.”

“We’re not?”

“Not even close.”

Smiling to herself as her husband got out of the truck, Mick relaxed into the leather of her seat, her fingers tracing the stitching of the material out of habit as she distantly listened to the scrape of metal behind the vehicle. Once Butchy was back in the truck, they were off again, driving further from the towns she knew. A few minutes down the road, Butchy pulled off into a parking lot and rolled to a stop before parking the car and tugging the key from the ignition. Although there was a small beach nearby, Mick couldn’t see the reason for him to want to go there without telling her to bring a bathing suit, so, as Mick turned to Butchy with a raised eyebrow, she was glad to see him already chuckling knowingly at her.

“I figured we could stop and have some late lunch,” he explained. Looking around, he scanned the area before pointing across the lot to a building with a blue roof and a sign with a sun over the water. “There, at Niko’s. It’s a Greek place, but there are som enormal things on the meal like pizza, pasta, and nachos. I figured it would be nice to try something new.”

Smiling at the hopeful glow in Butchy’s cinnamon eyes, Mick took in a breath and nodded, “Sounds great to me.”

Once they had climbed down from the truck, Butchy locked the doors with a beep that echoed through the quiet town and took Mick’s hand in his. The restaurant, though small, was welcoming as cool air pulsed throughout the seating area. The establishment wasn’t anything spectacular - no crisply ironed linens on the tables and certainly no maître d' to guide them to their table - but it was comfortable and the service was great. As the waitress took the menus and headed back to the kitchen to hand in their order, Mick reached across the table for Butchy’s hand and smiled as music flowed through speakers she had yet to find.

Though Butchy’s contentment was palpable as Mick talked about how pleased she was with the date so far, she had to wonder why he was consistently checking his watch once the food arrived. By the time they had eaten and Mick had gotten some baklava for them to share, she could feel her husband’s foot bouncing against the floorboards; a subtle sign that he was growing more and more anxious as time went on. Choosing to ignore it as she was sure he had to have something bigger in mind if he was so worked up over it, Mick worked her way through her portion of the baklava before letting Butchy get up to pay for their meal at the counter.

Once he had returned, Mick grabbed her phone from the table and made sure he had everything he needed before letting him lead the way outside. The air was thick with humidity and made both Butchy and Mick want to go back into the cool, air-conditioned restaurant, however, as Butchy checked his watch once more, they both knew that wasn’t a possibility. Instead of leading the way to the truck, Butchy led her toward the little beach and across a bridge to where a small shack sat on the end of a pier.

“What is this?” Mick asked as Butchy guided her toward the shack.

Rounding the shack with nothing more than a smile, Butchy stepped aside and gestured toward the water with a flourish. In the water was a small, blue and white square with two seats and a blue canopy secured above it. There were a few similar floating squares tied to the dock, but none of them had a canopy like the blue one did. When Mick looked no less confused than she had been, Butchy’s smile faltered ever so slightly and he explained, “It’s a pedal boat. I figured we could ride out on the lake for a while.”

Glad to finally know what was going on, Mick beamed, “Let’s do it, then.”

With newfound excitement, Butchy led his wife to their trusty little boat and stepped aboard before offering Mick a hand and helping her settle into her seat. Once they had gotten away from the shore and far enough from the beach that they no longer had to worry about people crossing their path, the pair slowed their pedaling and allowed the water to pull them where it wanted. Relaxing in her seat, Mick looked at her husband with a smile as she watched the water shimmer behind him. Although it wasn’t exactly quiet as they were still near the beach, the air between them was calm and quiet - a sort of peace that brought feelings of simple joy. Serenity filled the air as the water’s gentle flow inched them further from the shore. 

Taking in a slow, deep breath as she tipped her head back to examine the fading design on the canopy above them, Mick spoke contemplatively, “You know, I think I made a mistake.”

“You did?” Butchy asked, peering over at Mick with curious, almost concerned, amber eyes. Mick nodded and, in return, Butchy asked, “What would that be?”

“I brought my new book.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Butchy wondered, “How is that a mistake?”

“I’m not exactly getting any reading done,” Mick explained with a hint of a smirk as she met Butchy’s eyes. “I thought we were just having a picnic or something and that I’d have all the time in the world to read, but I’ve left it in the car all day.”

Allowing the building tension in his shoulders to release as Mick’s statement eased his mind, Butchy chuckled, “Well, in that case, maybe I'll just have to cancel the rest of my plans for the day so that you can get some reading done.”

“No!” Mick exclaimed. Finding the mirth in his eyes, Mick huffed, “You wouldn’t.”

“Is that a dare?” Butchy teased.

“No,” Mick began, “it’s a fact. You’ve had this whole day planned out and I know that, if you have something planned still, you’ll stick to it unless I ask you not to.”

Butchy chuckled, nodding his agreement to her claim, wondering if she knew just how true it was. Discreetly checking his watch as Mick began talking about how excited she was to finally start reading the book she had heard so much about, Butchy wondered how long he could keep her occupied. They still had another two hours on the pedal boat if they wanted and, if he knew Mick at all, she would want to search the beach for shells to add to her ever-growing collection. With any luck, it would be eight in no time and they would be on their way to the final event of the day.

Once he stopped checking his watch, time began to flow like sand in an hourglass. Before he knew it, they were on Weirs Beach, searching the shoreline for sea shells and sand dollars as the sun began to sink over the horizon. Once Mick had filled not only her pockets, but also Butchy’s with a collection of shells and shiny rocks she would share with everyone once they arrived back at the camp, he led her back to the truck where they emptied their pockets into the glovebox, Mick traded her shorts for warmer sweatpants, and the pair allowed the cooler, evening air to fill the humid cabin before closing the doors. 

Their drive didn’t last long as Butchy joined the main stream of traffic and followed the curve of the street to a small dirt road. Pulling up to a small building with a single light above it, a myriad of mosquitos and other insects bouncing around the lamp, Butchy rolled to a stop and reached into the pocket of his jeans for his wallet. Pulling out a couple of bills, he held out the money to the attendant who looked positively thrilled to be stuck manning the gate.

“Screen one has Barbie and The Haunted Mansion. Screen two has Insidious and Mission Impossible,” the exhausted worker listed off as they slotted the money into the register. “Which would you like?”

Butchy looked to Mick who, despite the darkening skies, was positively glowing as she excitedly held up a single finger. Turning back to the worker, Butchy replied, “Screen one, please.”

“Mhm,” the worker hummed. “Go left after the gate and try to park somewhere in the middle or back rows. Leave the front for the smaller cars. The snack shack and ice cream stand will be open until the second movie starts, but the bathrooms on the sides of the building remain open until we close. Remember to keep your headlights off and radio on since the movies will play over station ninety-seven-point-five.”

“Thanks,” Butchy said as Mick began fiddling with the radio. Once the worker nodded and waved him off, Butchy put the car back in gear and began rolling down the dirt path again, turning to the left and following the pathways made by other cars until he reached the parking area for the screen they had chosen. Finding a spot near the middle where Mick always liked to park when they went to drive-ins back in St. Pete Beach, Butchy drove in so that the tailgate face the screen before telling Mick she could turn the radio back off once again.

“But we need to have it on the right station or we won’t hear the movie,” she argued gently as she tried to find the right channel.

“We will,” Butchy agreed, “but not on that. I brought a radio from camp to use while we’re in the back.”

“The back?” Mick wondered as she finally looked up. Looking around, she realized Butchy had parked them facing away from the screen. Glancing through the back window at the covered tailgate, Mick asked, “How, exactly, are we going to sit back there?”

Butchy chuckled, taking the opportunity to kiss Mick’s cheek before suggesting, “How about you go get some snacks and drinks and I’ll figure that out?”

With a somewhat skeptical shrug, Mick relented and slid out of the vehicle after Butchy insisted she take his wallet with her. Once there was a bit of distance between his wife and the vehicle they had arrived in, Butchy climbed out of the truck and quickly unclipped the cover of his truck bed, rolling it back into place and examining the setup he had placed in the back end earlier in the day. The mattress and pillows Vivien had helped him smuggle from the storage shed were still snuggly secured in the back while the stack of blankets he and Miles had arranged in a sort of makeshift nest had shifted around quite a bit in their travels. Still, it looked alright and, as he dislodged the radio from its hiding place, he realized it wouldn’t matter much to Mick how it looked. It was the thought that counted.

By the time Mick had returned with two buckets of popcorn, a set of drinks, and her back pockets filled with boxes of cheap theater candy, Butchy had gotten everything set up and arranged the radio to stay on the right channel. Stepping around to the back of the truck, Mick’s eyes widened in disbelief as she breathed, “When did you have the time for all of this?”

“I have my ways,” Butchy stated as he gingerly slid the snacks from Mick’s dumbstruck grip. “Are you ready for a movie night?”

Letting out a breath of a laugh, Mick nodded eagerly, “Hell yeah!”

Without thinking to let Butchy help her, Mick moved to the side of the truck, stepped on the rim of the tire, and hauled herself over the side. Dropping onto the mattress, she held out her hands and took back the snacks so that Butchy could climb in and make himself comfortable. Once he had settled, she relaxed beside him and allowed herself to relax as he brought an arm around her shoulders. Peering down at his wife, Butchy smiled, pleased with how happy she seemed to be. As Mick lifted her head and met his gaze, Butchy brought a hand to the side of her neck, rubbing his thumb along her jawline as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips.

Slowly retreating from the gentle kiss, Butchy asked, “Was it worth the wait?”

Mick hummed, slowly peeling her eyes open once more as a giddy grin tugged at her lips, “Absolutely.”

[michelleleewise]

Secrets

Pairing: Loki x plus-size reader

Warnings: self esteem issues, some swearing (song lyrics), fluff.....all the fluff

Summary: Loki invites you to dinner, with a very important question.....

Part 18-

====================================

It had been a little over a month since Emma met Loki, and the two were thick as thieves. She begged for him to come over, his response "who am I to disappoint my princess." Making you smile. They spent most of their time conspiring against you. "She can't say no to both of us." You'd heard him say as he contstructed a pillow fort in the living room. You would always smile and sigh, what did you get yourself into. But if you were honest, you were never happier.

"Hey y/n, we don't have a closer tonight, she called in." Sarah told you coming in the kitchen. "Ok, I'll call Mel and make sure she can watch Emma." You said heading to your office. You got off the phone, her telling you Bucky was going to be over but wasn't an issue to watch Emma. You were about to set your phone down as you got a text.

You smiled as you put your phone down after reading the "I love you" more then a few times. You absolutely adored him, and felt bad you couldn't make it, wondering what he wanted to ask.

You sent eveyone home, wiping down the counters, putting the pans away seeing it was almost closing you decided to call it, lock the doors and throw some music on, smiling that the last time you did you tried to impale Loki with a spatula. You flipped the sign, and turned half the lights off as you picked a song, one you wanted to dedicate to Loki.

Made a wrong turn, once or twice Dug my way out, blood and fire Bad decisions, that's alright Welcome to my silly life

You sang along with the lyrics as you began sweeping, twirling around the broom.

Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood Miss knowing it's all good, it didn't slow me down Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated Look, I'm still around

You felt the music take over you as you swayed through the shop, singing as loud as you could, turning to see Loki waving through the glass, smiling you waved for him to come in, as green light surrounded him and he was in the shop. "Dance with me!" You yelled grabbing his hands as you swayed back and forth.

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel Like you're less than fuckin' perfect Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing You're fuckin' perfect to me

You let your hair down, pulling his jacket off, tossing it somewhere as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his going around your waist as you continued singing the lyrics to him as he gave you the biggest smile.

You're so mean When you talk About yourself, you were wrong Change the voices In your head Make them like you instead So complicated, look happy, you'll make it Filled with so much hatred, such a tired game It's enough, I've done all I can think of

Chased down all my demons, I've seen you do the same, oh

You looked into his eyes as you sang, they seemed soft, almost vulnerable as he head the lyrics. You leaned up kissing his cheek before serenading him again

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel Like you're less than fuckin' perfect Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing You're fuckin' perfect to me

You laid your head on his chest as his arms tightened around you, closing your eyes you listened to his heart beat, as you swayed back and forth you knew without any doubt that this man was your happy ending.

Yeah, oh, oh pretty, pretty please Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel Like you're less than fuckin' perfect Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing You're fuckin' perfect to me, yeah

You're perfect, you're perfect

As the song ended, you opened your eyes, looking up at him you pulled him down, pressing your lips to his as he held head, slowly deepening the kiss as he lifted you up setting you on the nearest table. You pulled back panting, lacing your arms around his middle as he laid his forehead on yours. "That song was for you love." You said as he looked at you, smiling. "I love you so much." He said cupping your cheek.

"What was it you wanted to ask me?" You asked playing with the hem of his shirt. "Oh, yes well, you see." He started, looking around as you cupped his cheeks "You can ask me anything Loki." You smiled as you felt him relax "Darling, you and Emma have brought so much love into my life, I can barely stand to be away from you, either of you." He said looking down. "We love you too." You said caressing his cheek. "Would you.....umm....would you like to move in with me?" He asked looking at you, waiting for your answer.

"Well, I'll have to talk to Emma, but my answer is yes, and if she adores you half as much as I think she does, she'll say yes too." You said as he smiled "really?" He asked "yes, really." You said as he pulled you into him, hugging you hard "l...loki...cant......breath." you panted as he let go "oh sorry, I'm just..." he said shifting back and forth "happy? Me too." You said. "Do you want to come over tonight? I'm almost done, and we can start looking for places." You smiled as he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you passionately. "I would love to." He breathed as he hugged you again. You couldn't wait for the next chapter of your life to begin.

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