#technically ghosted is not until 2023 but still

[barneswilsonrogers]

— Favorite looks in 2022

[taylor-titmouse]

2023 Book Retrospective

it's pretty much the end of the year, and i've never done this before, but i wanted to take a look at what i managed to do in 2023 and share some of my thoughts on it! i published five novellas this year (though i didn't actually write one of them) plus the public release of the demo and first huge update to You're A Mage on Monsterfuck Mountain. that's a lot!

so let's dig into all that. this will contain some spoilers for the books, because it's hard to talk about them without talking about what's in 'em, so maybe check out my itchio first and grab anything you missed! (but also.... perhaps wait until this weekend before you buy anything. shh.)

You're A Mage on Monsterfuck Mountain, released in March

TECHNICALLY, the demo was finished and available on patreon around the end of last year, and didn't become public until I'd finished the garden update, which i did finish this year. and what a massive fuckin THING that was. 60k words! 50 illustrations!! the biggest thing i ever put out and technically finished, and the beginning of a move to being less afraid of writing "weird" sex. there was so much bee sex in it. arguably too much bee sex in it. which i'd left entirely til last to do which meant i was writing nothing but bee sex for weeks.

this was the first time i let myself really indulge in writing dubcon for the bad endings, and it was a lot of fun. very often it was more interesting than the deliberately horny routes, because it meant writing a way to be put in the situation, and also making it hot every time. i'm very much of the philosophy with dubcon that even if the situation wasn't Ideal for the character, they're still going to get good sex out of it. i believe i put it at another point as, i'm here to write the pleasure of helplessness, not suffering. to that point, the dubcon endings for the armor, the dryad, and the queen bee were my favorite bits from this.

the fact i never got a second update out this year is a big regret. i finished a bunch of the routes for it, but ultimately i wanted to have things i could release! shortly after publishing the demo and update, i officially put my webcomic on hiatus so i could focus more on my graphic novel, and also spend more time on my writing. having that extra time is probably the only reason i was able to write as much as i did this year, and i didn't want to spend it toiling away on a serial project i couldn't release for months at a time.

which leads us to the release of my first novella of the year...

House of the Risen King, released in April

now this is when i truly said "i'm just going to write what i think is hot and interesting and not worry about how it's perceived!!" and went whole hog on exhibitionism and monster dubcon cult horror. house was mostly inspired by the ending of Hereditary, and was originally going to be more poltergiesty and played more straight, with vee being harangued by a bunch of horny ghost-demons and nothing more sinister than that. but i've had cult shit percolating at the back of my brain forever, and i wanted to play with ideas i'd first developed in shadow in the shelves with rituals and shadows, so here we are! the scene of hettie fingering vee in the bathtub while vee's god-fucked out of her mind is my favorite.

fun fact, the original seed for this book was actually going to feature max and mortis, my photographer/model couple (that link goes to cohost because i wasn't posting here yet when i was drawing them the most). the idea was they'd go do an urban exploration shoot and mortis would start getting fucked by a ghost while max filmed it, but the more time i spent with those characters the less i wanted to involve the supernatural. which meant i never wrote their book, and had to make a new character to do the idea. and then it wasn't even that idea anymore.

that's writing, folks

Roger Crenshaw: The Dogs at Duskfall, released in June

... which makes it ironic that the next book is one i didn't even write! r/l monroe @mortalityplays has been my friend for years, and was my editor for a long time (until he got a REAL JOB and didn't have TIME to edit anymore. sobs, cries, kicks a stone and walks into the distance). he's also always been an incredible writer, and for my birthday this year i asked him to write me something. i asked with the expectation of a little short story about our old tabletop RP characters, or a fanfic scene for one of my books he'd edited.

and then he wrote me 20,000+ words digging into the character of roger crenshaw and who he is that perfectly summed him up and tied all his stories together, such that i don't think i ever need to write another one. he did it, he wrote the perfect ending to roger. AND he did it using my favorite of his ocs from our tabletop campaign, AND there's some really hot and sweet smut in it. AND HE DID IT IN LIKE TWO WEEKS.

i loved it so much that i asked if i could illustrate and publish it as an official novella, and to my delight he agreed, and it was so so nice to collaborate with him on it. even if it meant beating our heads against the wall for 30 minutes about the placement of certain images on the page.

this was a great tragedy. i'd drawn the vagina one first, but an image earlier in the book had to be moved, which affected the placement of everything else. the vagina image had been perfectly at the start of a new page, and then suddenly it wasn't. so i had to do the penis one instead for better placement. tragic!!!

it's hard to pick a favorite scene in something written entirely, lovingly for you. how can i choose between the characters' pitch perfect semantic arguments on the nature of folk lore, the millenium princess-ass memory hopping, or the really really hot smut? i can't. i love it all. thank you r/l for being so good at what you do and writing this for me, i'll treasure it always.

The Dragon Double Feature, released in May

apparently this came out in may, and not july. i don't know why i've been convinced this came out in july. oh well i can't be bothered to insert it on top of the roger one.

anyway. THIS book. this book exists because i believe at the time i was a bit blocked, and wanted to just write SOMETHING. for a long time i've had the idea of a dragon wrecking a princess' wedding and fucking her in front of the congregation just sitting in my back pocket. it was the 'i know i could just slam this out if i wanted. i don't have to care about it it's just sex and then it's done' fallback idea, and i finally did it!

and then it was too short. i don't like the idea of publishing anything less than 10k words for full price, so i was like. okay. alright. i've always thought fucking an eastern dragon would be hot and have this other idea i was going to use for roger (back when i had an idea for every monster possible for roger), let's just write that. kenta is only kenta because i took a poll for what body type i should pair with a dragon (he was 'big boy', i think the other options were twink, older woman, and average woman). and i was also Really into the movie inu-oh at the time, which is probably obvious with kenta being a blind musician, lol.

the musician and the waterfall was tougher to write because i didn't have a clear vision of how it should end or even how they should fuck (the mechanics of fucking long noodle dragon have challenged me for years) but i'm ultimately pleased with it. it would have been a long time since i wrote something sincerely romantic, and it was nice to go back to it. i'm a HUGE romantic at heart.

both stories are pretty much one extended scene so it's hard to pick a favorite moment from them, but i will say i'm very pleased with how i approached writing the musician and the waterfall, specifically in the challenge i set myself to never use visual description kenta couldn't reasonably guess. writing from the POV of a blind man made me focus in on different senses and ways to describe them.

this book is also, as of right now, my best seller. which is great! i love that for me.

The Dragon Double Feature 2, released in July

okay i guess THIS one released in july.

anyway i got stricken with the curse with this one. a lot of people wanted me to write a sequel, but i wasn't going to. and every time i say i'm not going to do something, i end up doing it. it's so annoying. this one only happened because i wanted to write a SHORT! a SHORT extra for patreon describing kenta and wakatake's first time having sex as humans.

and then i wrote too much preamble describing their time on the beach. and then i got emotionally invested in unpacking their actual relationship, and also added a third character with mrs arakawa, and had to bring it all together into a story that was coherent and had something to say about the way they loved and ALSO ended in a THREESOME because WHATS THE POINT OF INTRODUCING A THIRD CHARACTER if they aren't all going to FUCK TOGETHER!!

it was tough. but i'm really, really happy with it in the end, and think it's one of the best things i've ever written. my favorite scene is definitely them playing with the hermit crab on the beach. metaphors babie.

the gundrid/eveline story is fine too. lmao. i NEVER PLANNED TO WRITE ANOTHER WITH THEM!! i only did it because the idea of publishing a sequel to a story from a double feature without writing a sequel to the other half of the feature was insane. and now eveline and gundrid are some of my most beloved characters, to the point of writing another book featuring them...

The Tenebrous Tower, released November

yet another book i'm pretty sure i was like 'i don't need to write this. this character doesn't work for a story on his own, what am i ever gonna do with him' and then i dumped a bunch of fantasy characters into a jar with him and suddenly i had a story. I ONLY MADE ROMICK BECAUSE I WANTED TO DRAW FUCKED UP WIZARD PORN AND MY ONLY OTHER OPTION WAS A GRANDPA!!!

anyway i started writing it as something to do on vacation, and it was just gonna be a bunch of dungeon bdsm vignettes until i hit on a throughline and suddenly i had a story and an emotional arc and damn i did it again. i did it again. i have a book.

i was expecting this one not to do very well because it had multiple prerequisites, but because i am a master of my craft i made sure to write it so you didn't need to read those. and then people read it without reading those. so it worked out anyway and now it's done just about as well as dragons 2. the people love romick, but they especially love the idea of him being destroyed. maybe someday. maybe someday. (except on patreon, where it's already happened)

the final vignette with the doll is, of course my favorite. i think it was a lot of people's favorites.

............................................

and that's everything i published this year! honorable mention to my novel starbuster, which i'd written most of last year, then spent all of october this year revising with the intent of finishing it, only to run out of steam by the time i was done revising it. so it's exactly where i left it last year. just better written. god it would be nice to finish that fuckin thing next year.

my goals for 2024 are, of course: release more books!! i have a big project i've been working on illustrating for the past month that i'd like to release in january, and i've also been working on a spin-off one-shot with mrs arakawa and an oni. i think this coming year i want to Try to blast through some of the one-off ideas i developed this year so they'll quit banging cowbells in my brain. like the sleeping garden. it makes me insane i never actually wrote the sleeping garden.

anyway if you actually made it to the end of this, thank you!! if you've bought all of these books, double thank you!!! i've been able to pay my rent and expenses just with my adult work this year, and it's been amazing and fun and super fulfilling. thank you for supporting me in 2023, here's to a horny 2024!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

hello readers. AITA for visiting a friend in another country before visiting a different friend in a different (neighboring, but still a good 7-10hr trip) country?

some context: friend 1 and i have been online friends for over a decade. by reasons of circumstance- they're a few years older than me so they could travel easier, their family is more affluent whereas mine couldn't shell out ~1k for an overseas flight until i was able to make that money myself as an adult, they had already graduated college and could travel easier than when i was still in college and could not (summer was technically an option but friend 1 hates hot weather and getting sweaty, so they always wanted to meet up in colder months, which limited my schedule)- the four times we've been able to hang out in person, they came to visit me instead of vice versa. the 4th time was a couple years ago, and they purchased tickets at the start of that year (2022). however, at the same start of that year, i got involved in a new community and met a lot of amazing people, especially friend 2, who quickly became one of my best friends in a short amount of time. it was just one of those instant connections, y'know?

anyway. fast forward about six months. since friend 1 was already coming here towards the end of 2022, and there was no refunding those tickets, friend 2 and i wound up making plans to see each other. but they couldn't easily afford the plane fare, so i decided to go visit them in their home country instead. part of the reason i never had done so with friend 1 before was bc i just wasn't mentally ready to be so far from family, in a different country, by myself - i had a lot of anxiety about such a long trip. i still had some now, but after going through covid and such, i changed a decent amount as a person, and wasn't quite as anxious anymore. i had also moved out, so i was more used to being away from family by then.

the trip with friend 2 wasn't going to happen until 2023. when friend 1 came to visit, however, they found out about the trip (by apparently looking through my likes on twitter, where friend 2 had made a post about it) and completely broke down. i had been trying to figure out a way to tell them, but had a feeling that any method would result in this exact reaction, so i had put it off, until i was unfortunately proven correct.

further context: friend 1 and i have never been great at honest communication. this is a fault of both of ours, but i feel like i am able to admit it more honestly, apologize/own up to it, and try and make changes. we met young and immature, and the majority of our talk over the years has been superficial, solely about fantasy characters. when i got too busy in college, and my time/interest in characters declined, i felt more and more like our relationship wasn't as fulfilling. i was afraid to bring this up because on two separate occasions in the past, when i mentioned hanging out with other friends (and in one if the situations, which was an online game, i invited friend 1 to join us) i was immediately ghosted by friend 1 for a few days. so i stopped feeling able to bring up any plans with friends going forward, for fear they wouldn't take it well. i made up excuses and lies when i DID hang out with other people to explain away my absence (we were used to talking daily, but it felt like an obligation after a time, as they'd always ask why i wasn't online for a day). obvs, none of this is healthy, but it led to how i (mis)handled the current situation.

friend 1 found out, we had a lot of difficult talks on a trip that was supposed to be fun, and throughout the remainder of the trip i basically felt watched for whenever i was on my phone - lots of passive aggressive comments dropped about how "they wouldn't use social media on a trip like this, bc they could just do that at home". i was accused of being in love with friend 2, bc why else would i wanna go visit them so soon into a friendship, of not wanting friend 1 to even be here, of "holding something that happened years ago" over them (the ghosting) when i tried to explain why i didn't tell them. (i don't hold the situations themselves against them anymore, but it's had a profound interaction on how i conduct myself in relationships now). they said that they wanted to be my first international experience, which i get, but in my mind, it's two completely different countries, and they were already coming to visit before these plans were even made. they also made it clear they didn't care about the circumstances, friend 1 just wanted to be "my first" no matter what i said. i felt/still feel like that's too controlling, basically asking me not to go hang out with friend 2 bc i didn't adhere to their timetable for it first.

i had an amazing time with friend 2, and it was just an overall more comfortable experience. i still feel like i owe friend 1 a visit, even though i don't see a long future for our dying friendship (and even, if i'm being very honest with myself, i don't want to go visit them). personally, i'm fine with this - we've just grown into different people imo. but they don't have many friends, and had a couple rough ghostings from previous friends of their own, so i feel guilty about wanting to call it quits on ours, which again i know they won't take well. i just don't think we're compatible anymore, but even so, this whole situation has continued to eat at me even though it's been nearly a year now. i keep wondering if i really am in the wrong here, if i wasn't as considerate as i should have been, if i shouldn't be so blase about ending a decade+ friendship.

so, AITA for visiting friend 2 in their country before friend 1?

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] On the Edge of a Waking Dream

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling (Hob x Dream) Rated: M Word Count: 3914 Tags: MonsterFucktoberBingo 2023, Dreamling Nation House of Horrors 2023, human Dream, ghost Hob, modern day setting, main character death, technically, is Hob a main character, the prompt is ghost so not DEAD-dead regardless, ghost character, ghost sex, sex toys, anal sex, suicidal ideation, unconventional happily-ever-after, these tags are a very mixed bag, angst in my lighthearted ghost story?, it's more likely than you think, brief appearance by Daniel Hall, brief appearance by Merv

Additional Warning: There is a conversation toward the end that dips into the subject of suicidal ideation. If you need to avoid it, it's the section that begins "Would that I could stay here forever, with you" - skip that whole section and you'll be good.

Notes: Title taken from I'll Be There, by Escape Club, 1991. This song has been on my Ficcable Songs list for more than two decades and finally I've done something with it. I'm…eugh. I think this would be better served as a longfic, but I'm. Not doing that. I'm happier with this now than I was with the initial draft, and that's good enough.

This covers Smoctober Day 9 prompt 'ghost', the Monsterfucktober square for 'ghost', and the Dreamling Nation House of Horrors prompt 'ghost'

Summary: Dream never believed in ghosts until his boyfriend became one

On AO3

~~~ Dream never believed in ghosts.

But then, his boyfriend became one.

Hob, his brash and boastful beautiful Hob, who'd talked of marriage once they were done with university, who'd laughed at the notion of dying and proudly declared he'd live forever. Hob, who had sworn to never leave him, had promised to be there for him always.

The universe had other ideas, unfortunately, but Hob was nothing if not adaptable.

~~~ Dream turned the key in the lock of their shared flat—just his flat, now, he supposed—numb and empty inside after the funeral. Debating the merits of crying in the shower vs going straight to bed (not their bed, not anymore) and crying himself to sleep, he pushed open the door.

The lights flicked on all by themselves.

All of the lights, in every room of the flat.

Which was disconcerting, but he was tired, and emotionally drained, and made a mental note to check with the property manager about the wiring just in case.

The electric teakettle clicked on when he entered the kitchen; convenient, as he had intended a cup of chamomile before trying to sleep, but he added the oddity to his mental note for tomorrow. Tea in hand, he leaned against the counter, gathering the static in his mind to keep from focusing with any clarity on the loss clawing his insides hollow.

When his laptop on the corner desk powered itself on, he nearly dropped his tea. With mounting apprehension he watched as the computer logged him in and…opened Spotify? Then the music started, an old song he knew well, and the apprehension turned to disbelief.

Don't be afraid, oh my love I'll be watching you from above And I'd give all the world tonight, To be with you

"This is absolutely my song," Hob had said once when it came on. "Guy loved his partner so much he refused to go when death came for him? That'd be me."

"I thought you planned to live forever?" Dream had teased, gently, and Hob had grinned.

"Well yeah, that is the plan. But if it turns out I can't, then…sticking around as a ghost, that's my contingency plan." His smile had turned warm, tender, and he'd brushed a knuckle down the side of Dream's face. "I've got to see you're getting on okay if I'm gone, haven't I?"

Because I'm on your side, And I still care I may have died, But I've gone nowhere Just think of me, And I'll be there

"Hob," Dream whispered, tears welling, something like hope sticking in his throat, and the lamp on the desk flickered. "Is that you?"

The lamp blinked out and back on, twice, and Dream let out a sob. 'Twice' had always been their non-verbal and discretionary code for affirmation, blinking or shoulder taps or hand squeezing, and the warm sense of relief that poured over Dream at this confirmation was overwhelming. "Hob…how is this possible? Am I losing my grip on reality?"

The wireless mouse moved, waggled side to side in a clear imitation of shaking one's head 'no'.

"How is this possible," Dream murmured again, turning over and over the idea that ghosts could be real, that Hob could be one. "You died; I buried you. How can you be here?"

The mouse moved in a slow deliberate arc, sketching the shape of a heart.

Oh, there's no need to cry Just think of me, And I'll be there

Dream's throat closed up and he let out a sound half-laugh, half-sob as the song soared into its final chorus.

The mouse scooted across the desk, nudged the box of tissues closer.

Hob had so often talked about taking care of him; Hob had promised to never leave him.

Hob had, apparently, refused to go when Death came for him. "You were always a man of your word," Dream murmured, sniffling through a smile, and the light in the kitchen flickered happily.

~~~ Living with a ghost was surprisingly easy to adjust to, once he accepted the reality of it. He always had someone to talk to, and they quickly discovered that the notes app on his phone, or his computer, was a viable conduit for Hob to talk back when he felt like it. Dream's earbuds were always charged, his music library always managed to pull up exactly the right song for his mood, he never had to worry about whether he'd left the lights or the stove on and, annoyingly, his phone and computer always turned off at exactly the hour Hob had insisted on for a decent sleep schedule. But in all honesty, healthier sleep habits were a fair price to pay for having Hob back in some form when Dream had thought him lost.

Hob looked after him, made sure he kept living and thriving, and Dream threw himself into researching ghosts and spirits and how to attune oneself to them. Herbs and alignments and meditative practices, Dream tried them all and little by little, the more he learned, the more he began to feel the physical presence of Hob in their flat. A breath, a scent, a diffuse sense of warmth and calm, an overall impression that this was home and Hob was here.

~~~ "What was it like, dying?" he asked one day, during a lull in his research. He minimized the webpage and brought up the notes app. "If you don't mind talking about it, that is." He trusted Hob to tell him otherwise; communicating and respecting boundaries had always been easy between them. The cursor started moving a couple seconds later.

It would be impossible to discuss the subject without a common frame of reference.

Dream burst out laughing at that, the terrible hiccuping bray that Hob had adored, and a little old-school smiley emote appeared on the screen. But before Dream could draw breath to quote the next line back to Hob (You mean I have to die to discuss your insights on death??), the cursor was moving again.

Kidding. Not much to tell. Was a lady there, kind face, beautiful wings. Held out her hand, and I knew if I took it I'd never see you again. So I refused.

"And you were permitted to just…say no?"

Lady gave me a sad smile, said I couldn't go back; told her I couldn't go forward, either, not if it meant leaving you. When I promised I would never.

Dream could feel his eyes welling up and blinked, swallowed the lump in his throat.

She let me stay in between. Not perfect, but I don't have to leave. Can't leave you.

"I love you," Dream said, voice wavering. "I love you, Hob, I miss you but I'm so glad I still have you—" A little sob escaped, his eyes spilling over.

Death cannot stop true love, Hob typed then, in swooping pink script on the screen, and Dream could only smile through his tears as he answered.

"All it can do is delay it for a little while."

~~~ Dream kept seeking knowledge and Hob kept developing proficiency in being a ghost, more practice in interacting with the world and making himself known; soon enough Dream could genuinely feel Hob there, physically—a wisp of air against his skin, the phantom brush of lips to his temple, a full-body shiver of warmth when drifting off to sleep. He'd feel Hob like an embrace from behind while fixing his breakfast, while practicing his cello, while showering. Sometimes he would touch himself under the spray, stroke it to hardness and feel, unmistakably, the wispy grip of Hob's hand over his, the faint nudge of a phantom prick against his arse, an invisible mouth laving kisses to the back of his neck.

"You can manipulate any electronics, right?" he asked one evening, and when the lamp on his bedside table dimmed and brightened twice in the affirmative, he undressed and brought out the vibrator he had purchased the day before, knelt over on the bed, pressed the toy into his slick and opened body. "Then please, Hob—be with me, like this, have me, I still want—"

The toy jumped to life with a buzz and Dream gasped, shifted, rocked his hips as Hob cycled through every power setting and vibration pattern until he found the combination that made Dream shiver and squirm and grasp helplessly at the bedsheets, surrounded by the not-quite-there feeling of Hob draped over him, fingers twined with his, lips soft at the back of his neck as he surrendered to the onslaught of sensation.

He drifted off to sleep afterward with a soft smile on his face, the feel of Hob's arms around him and Hob murmuring "G'night, dove, I'll keep you safe" in his ear.

When he woke, the whisper of revelation was stirring at the back of his mind but it didn't click until he heard a soft "Good morning, beautiful" in Hob's dear voice and sat bolt upright, duly stunned.

"Hob! You can talk!?"

Nothing, for an instant, and then, still soft: "Dream? Can you…you can hear me now?"

"Yes!" he cried, overjoyed, and let the tears stream down his face as he heard Hob's happy laughter surrounding him, disembodied but bright and brilliant, for the first time in months.

~~~ Together they continued their studies, carefully experimenting with ways to thin the veil between worlds safely and securely. Hob's physical presence got stronger, more tangible as the days passed. His touch was never cold like so many sources claimed; it was warm, like lifting one's face to the morning sun in the first days of Spring, like the comfort of snuggling into the blankets on a winter evening.

Nothing about his Hob could ever be cold.

All his studies indicated that a ghost attaining visibility took time, and strength of will from the spirit, and 'openness' on the part of the living—which Dream had interpreted as willingness to believe that one might see a ghost. He did believe, wholeheartedly, knew without a doubt that Hob was still here with him and would eventually be ghost enough to manifest visibly.

It happened one night when Dream was drifting between awake and asleep; there, in that liminal state, he caught a glimpse of Hob for just an instant. It stole his breath, the sight of Hob before him again after all this time; Hob smiled at him, blindingly beautiful, and then he faded out and Dream woke, eyes wet, his own smile soft on his face.

"Hob?" he called, barely more than a murmur, and immediately the warm comfort of Hob's arms around him took hold.

"'M here," came Hob's disembodied voice, close to his ear. "Did you see me there, in between?"

"Yes," Dream breathed, emotion swelling within him. "You were. So beautiful. How I've missed the sight of you, Hob—" He turned, wanting to burrow into the warmth of Hob beside him, knowing there was nothing really there enough to accommodate his want.

"Sweet talker," Hob said, and then there were soft insubstantial lips touching his and Dream sighed into the phantom kiss, arching, reaching. Invisible fingertips traced his jaw, touched his throat, trailed down and brushed a nipple and Dream let a needy sound spill from him.

"Hob," he pleaded, keyed up, wanting, and felt more than heard the way Hob hummed in reply. And then the suggestion of a leg was pushed between his, urging him over onto his back and hands were stroking feather-light down his sides, a ghostly mouth moving beneath his ear. Dream whimpered, kicked free of the bedclothes, hooked his thumbs in his pajama bottoms and wriggled fluidly to get them down and off, laid back and spread his limbs and gave himself over to the slow sensual stoking of his pleasure.

Hob took his time as much by design as necessity, needing focus and intent to manage physical touch but also clearly delighting in the leisurely build of driving Dream higher and higher. He was skilled at it, also, had Dream trembling and moaning long before his ghostly tongue touched Dream's prick. It was hard, leaking, and Dream rocked into the wispy sensation of Hob's mouth around him, Hob's hands caressing the insides of his thighs, Hob's fingertips tracing intimately along the creases of his body.

Hob's touch was exquisite, erotic, and Dream was certain that with hours to enjoy it he would surely reach climax, but neither of them had that sort of patience just now. "Get the vibe, sweetheart," Hob said at last, and Dream scrambled to comply, retrieving it from the bedside drawer. "Open yourself up for me, need to watch you come undone—"

Breathless, Dream lubed the toy and pushed it in, bore down and gripped it tightly in anticipation, knees raised, waiting for Hob—

The toy turned on and Dream's head lashed back as sudden pleasure poured through him. "There you are," he vaguely heard Hob murmur, "my darling beautiful Dream—"

One day, Dream vowed, shaking as Hob cycled the toy into the perfect pulsing intensity that made him writhe and wail, one day, he would come from Hob's ghostly touch alone.

~~~ They met in waking dreams again, and again, each meeting strengthening their connection, anchoring them securely to one another across the veil. "Oh, my love, my precious dove," Hob murmured, when they managed to hold onto one another for more than a second, and then Hob's mouth was pressed against his, opening, warm—

He woke to the feel of Hob kissing him still, only less substantial, but as he opened his eyes, he caught a soft glimmer of Hob's face above him, hazy, barely there, and his heart skipped a beat.

"I can see you," he murmured against phantom lips, not daring to blink, breath held—but Hob drew back in surprise, in excitement, and his faint image flickered out. Dream sighed and let his eyes fall closed once more. "We'll keep trying. Come kiss me again?"

~~~ "Would that I could stay here forever, with you," Dream lamented, drifting on the edge of waking up, curled into Hob's embrace.

He felt the way that Hob went still and tense.

"You seem the most real here," he explained, "and I am. So tired, of not being able to properly touch you. Except here."

"I'm getting better at being substantial out there," Hob said, a very careful edge in his voice. "Be patient, dove, we'll get there."

"Or I could simply sleep forever, and never be without you again."

"You aren't without me now. I'm not going anywhere, Dream. You have me. Forever. What you're talking about is—" Hob stopped abruptly, unwilling to voice the thought.

"I know." Dream couldn't bring himself to look Hob in the eye, mumbled into the familiar comfort of Hob's hairy chest instead. "I wonder, sometimes, if…it might be worth it."

Hob vanished, and it was a sharp enough jolt that Dream woke completely.

Every light in the flat was flickering madly as Dream stumbled ouf of the bedroom; the smoke and CO detectors were screeching their alarm, his laptop sounding some kind of alert and the air conditioning unit in the window powering off and on repeatedly.

"Hob!" Dream tried to raise his voice above the din. "Hob, stop!"

The teakettle started up a sustained whistle and then Spotify kicked in with some metal band he couldn't immediately name, thrashing guitars and guttural screaming vocals, and Dream had to cover his ears. "Hob! HOB!"

It was another full minute of this cacophony, and then abruptly everything stopped. Plunged back into grey morning dimness and silence, Dream took a steadying breath, two.

"…Hob?" His voice, when it came, was small and tentative.

The kitchen light flickered sullenly, twice.

"Hob. I don't…I'm not—" He floundered; the words weren't coming.

"C'mere." He felt the swoop of Hob rushing past him, and followed him back to the bedroom. "C'mere," Hob repeated, from the bed, and Dream crawled up to sit against the headboard. The faint sense of Hob's arm settled around his shoulders and Dream felt the inevitable tears welling up.

"Sorry for throwing a tantrum," Hob's voice said, low and soft with sincerity. "It's just. You scared me. What you said." Dream felt lips brush his hair, holding there in a desperate approximation of a kiss.

"I know." Dream blinked, and the tears spilled over. "I don't mean it, but…"

"But it's crossed your mind."

Dream wiped his eyes. "Yes."

"I stayed to see you live your life, not to take it away from you." Hob's voice was shaky now, as if he was also crying—could ghosts cry?—and Dream could feel Hob's other arm across his chest, Hob holding him close, clinging to him. "Dream—I love you, I love you so much. And you have everything ahead of you. Please, please don't start thinking you're better off giving it all up. We don't even know if you'd wind up same as me—"

Dream closed his eyes, breathed slow and even. It was not that he wished, particularly, to die; it was simply that he wished to be with Hob more than he wanted anything else.

Except, perhaps, to not bring Hob pain or distress.

"I…am an amateur, at these occult studies," Dream said at last, eyes still closed. "It will take a lifetime of research and learning to ensure that I can share in your afterlife, that I will not leave you behind. I will need to live a very long life, to be. Certain."

"…Yes," came Hob's voice, steadier now but still with a trembling edge of wariness underneath. "Yes. You will."

"And I will need your help. To research, but also to remind me to eat, to buy groceries, to go to bed on time."

"Of course. You'll have it, anything and everything I can do to help. Promise me you won't give up."

"Hob," Dream breathed, because he had opened his eyes, and Hob was glimmering faintly there beside him—visible, if only just. "Hob—"

"Promise," Hob interrupted, lifting his head to look Dream in the eye, and Dream could see the exact second when he realized Dream was not looking through him, but at him.

"I will live to be ninety, I promise," he said, a little bit breathless, a little wrung out, very much elated. "Hob, I can see you—"

The smile on Hob's face, the way he glowed with joy, pushed every other thought from Dream's head, and when Hob leaned in for an ecstatic-if-still-a-touch-watery kiss, Dream's heart soared at how easily they connected.

~~~ Hob's visual manifestation in the waking world grew more and more frequent as the days went on, steadier, more solid in appearance. Strong emotion, they confirmed, was an excellent catalyst and soon enough he could maintain a weak-but-persistent shade, always a bit more distinct from the corner of Dream's eye than straight on. The more he practiced the better he got, at being both visually and tangibly solid, holding his presence, managing touch. Dream never minded that he always remained a bit transparent; he was there, still here, still with Dream, to whom he had promised forever.

~~~ "Still mine?" Hob asked many years later, float-lying half on top of him in bed, idly combing through the emerging greys of his hair, and Dream smiled.

"I can't imagine ever being anyone else's," he breathed, lifting a hand to touch Hob's face. He still had to be careful, to focus; it was all too easy for his hand to go right through Hob which was disconcerting for them both. But he was very good at it by now, and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind Hob's ear tenderly. "I don't want to be anyone else's."

"You don't have to be," Hob promised, drifting up to look down into his eyes. "I'm here, I'm yours, forever, as long as you'll have me."

"Forever," Dream echoed, smiling with the joy of it, and drew Hob down for a delicate heartfelt kiss.

~~~ "Sorry, kid, ain't got no vacancies."

Daniel's shoulders slumped, disappointed. The White Horse building was perfectly situated for getting to campus and he'd been told there was always at least one flat open, but apparently he was given incorrect information.

"Unless…" The guy in the property office tilted his head back, scratched under his scruffy chin, cigar caught between his teeth. "I mean, there is the haunted unit, 'salways empty…"

Daniel perked up. "Haunted unit?" He'd been drawn to the unusual all his life, fascinated by the paranormal, intrigued by the macabre. If this was true—

"Yeah." The guy slanted a look at him. "Last tenant—last tenant who stayed more'n a couple'a weeks, at least—was this old guy, lived there for decades. Him'n his boyfriend, they moved in when they were young but then the boyfriend died, an' the other guy just stayed the rest of his life, alone. Was a hundred n' five when he finally passed, and that was back in '89. Flat's been empty ever since. Folk'll move in, but it don't take long 'til they're backin' out on the lease. Lights won't work right, electronics're unpredictable, weird moanin' and screamin' noises in the walls, some even talk about apparitions they can't ever see straight-on but're always in the corner of the eye, in the shadows. Me, I don' believe'n none of it, never seen nor heard anything'f the sort, but regardless I can't keep anybody in there—"

"I'll take it," Daniel interrupted, excitement bubbling up in his stomach. A haunted flat? Could he be any luckier? "That is—if I may?"

"Look, kid, you wanna give it a shot? Go for it. Come on in, I'll draw up the paperwork. 'F you stay, I'll give ya a super steep discount—any rent comin' in's better'n none, heh!" He turned and stumped back into his office, still cackling and muttering; Daniel followed, mind racing.

If there was a ghost, a real ghost, it was probaby the boyfriend, who'd maybe been there all along and now didn't want anyone living in his and his lover's space. And Daniel was no true medium, but he'd grown up learning all kinds of 'alternative science' stuff from his mom's friends, so maybe he'd have a decent chance of communicating with the ghost, helping it find peace and move on.

He was half right. It was the boyfriend, but it was also the old man. Whose ghost was that of his younger self—and yes, Daniel was able to talk to them. Also, they had absolutely no intention of moving on. They were lovely, actually, had no problem with Daniel living there once they got to know him, willingly worked out a sort of 'roommate agreement' with him. Merv down in the property office made good on his promise of cheap rent, and Daniel's ghosts were always making sure the flat was in order, bills tracked and paid, cupboards stocked and groceries delivered, homework reminders set where he needed them and homework assistance given when asked. It was like…like having two dads, when he'd grown up without, and Daniel was hard-pressed to imagine how his life could possibly be better.

(He could do without the occasional auditory glimpse into their love life, but…well. Most of the time they were very good about not leaking across the veil in intimate moments, and ultimately who was he to begrudge them their eternal happiness?)

=== Started: 10/9/23 Drafted: 10/10/23 Additional Drafting: 10/27/23 Posted: 10/28/23

I have not read any of Daniel's canon material; my apologies if his voice sounds terribly wrong. Cookies for anyone who recognizes the movie quotes Hob used ❤️

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Fourteen

( Benny Miller x F!Reader )

UNIFORM / SUSPENSION BONDAGE / ABDUCTION/KIDNAPPING

Summary: Benny visits you at work and offers to by lunch but a change in circumstance leads to something more enticing.

Day Fourteen of @absurdthirst's Kinktober

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Language, mentions of food, semi public sex, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.2k

It was another average day in the shop. Your assistant manager was a welcomed relief, her relaxed attitude meaning you could add ghosts to the window without interruption, though she did insist you needed help. Reluctantly, you agreed.

“Who is that?”

Your one colleague said it in the sort of tone people give when they see someone attractive walk by, you had the tendency to ignore it. You ignore the rap on the window too.

There wasn’t time for people watching.

“Um, I think he wants your attention.”

You sigh, this happens all the time, the comments about ‘how much are you then’ or ‘good job, when are you coming to do mine’. You turn with a face like thunder until you meet the other beaming back at you.

“Benny?”

“You know him?!”

Scrambling out of the glass box, you smooth out your skirt as he came through the door.

“Hey,” he’s still smiling, going in for a hug.

You gladly accept, “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“I realised you left without any lunch.”

There was a reason why you left without lunch this morning and he was standing right in front of you.

After his gym session, he pulled you in the shower with him. He lathered you with kisses and touched every piece of your bare skin, he was so close to fucking you but you both knew you didn’t have time. You managed to make it out of the door, hair dried and fully dressed, just when your ride pulled up. In the car, you decided you’ll just head to a coffee shop and buy something there.

“I was seeing if you were on break soon, if not I could grab you something.”

“She’s on break in a ten minutes,” your assistant manager stepped in. “And I’m making sure she definitely task it been as she forgot two days ago.”

You shrug, “It’s an easy mistake.”

“It’s not,” they both say simultaneously.

Benny knew you worked too hard, all the boys knew, it was nice to see someone in your job keeping an eye on you.

“Been as your boyfriend is here, I’ll let you go early.”

He smirks at you, no one had called him that until now. Sure, he wasn’t technically your boyfriend, in public, he just worked as the decoy for the fact you were actually sleeping with all of them.

“When do you need me back?”

“Five past one.”

“But that’s like an extra twenty minutes, I’ll be gone for almost an hour.”

“Well, bring me a festive coffee and I won’t tell.”

He snatched your wrist and dragged you out of the shop as fast as he could. You didn’t need your bag, he said, he’s buying.

“So, where are you taking me?”

You’d already gone past several food joints, your footsteps flagging behind his, your stomach was beginning to rumble.

“The athlete’s kitchen.”

“That doesn’t sound very appetising.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

That wasn’t the place’s real name, it was just what Benny and all the other fighters called it. Inside had an industrial feel with scaffolding built tables and dark leather chairs, accents decorated in chunky metal piping.

“Benny!”

The man behind the counter rushed over to see him and Benny greeted him as he always does, a firm pat on the back to solidify the gesture.

“Hey Ozzie.”

“I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Sorry, man, been busy.”

“Ditching me for a girl, huh?”

The heat floods your cheeks.

“Something like that,” Benny wraps an arm round your hip and pulls you in. “Right, Bunny?”

Ozzie shrugs, “I get it, man, always nice to see your name on the order list. What can I do for you two? What about Benny’s signature dish?”

You raised your eyebrows to him.

“It’s not mine, it just so happens to be called the Benny Bagel.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll let you try it another time.”

He wasn’t one to tell you what to eat, he wanted you to have something more substantial, knowing full well you wouldn’t have eaten properly. A piece of fruit maybe but that was hardly a meal.

You moan, satisfied your stomach was full. Benny suggested an energy bowl, packed with everything that will keep you going until the end of your shift.

“Better?”

You nod, the feeling of killing everyone in sight lifted.

His hand came to your thigh, rubbing it up and down, it wasn’t the first instance of this behaviour.

Before the food arrived, he settled close to you and coiled an arm around your frame, hand resting on your hip. You felt his thumb draw circles yet he stopped when Ozzie brought over the drinks.

He squeezed your knee.

Your eyes flick around the cafe which was full, the pair of you getting in before the lunchtime rush.

“You’re pretty handsy today,” you remark.

Switching seats, he joins you back on the two seater couch.

“Sorry, I can’t help myself. It’s the uniform.”

“It’s hardly a uniform.”

He hums, pressing his body to yours, his skin boiling to the touch. He brings his mouth to your ear.

“You don’t wear a pencil skirt at home,” his tone is low, husky.

You release a shaky breath.

“I guess I don’t.”

His breath tickles at your cheek, your tongue wiping the moisture into your dry lips.

There were too many eyes in this place. Not many people could see the pair of you tucked in a neat little corner, away from the hustle and bustle. That’s probably why he was so adamant on sitting here.

There were a couple of fleeting glances as he moves his head back.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom,” you place a hand on his chest, slowly creeping it down his stomach. “And when you’ve finished paying, you can meet me in there.”

His body went rigid. He looks at you, brows furrowing, mouth parting a little.

He prays you aren’t playing him.

You give him a coy smile before getting up.

Is that the indicator, should he be moving, is this really fucking happening?

Glancing over your shoulder, you see him still sitting there dumbfounded. You cock your head, gesturing for him to go. Now he’s smiling from ear to ear, jumping off the couch and striding to the counter.

You pick the toilet at the end.

It’s surprisingly roomy and the walls are thick, you can’t tell what’s the other side of the one wall but at least it isn’t customers enjoying their lunch. You play with your hair and inspect your mouth and teeth for any stray food.

The door knocks and you open it a crack before letting him in.

He wraps around your hips, hands grabbing your ass over its material confinement as he pulls you to him.

“How long we got?”

You slip your phone out of your pocket.

“I’d say about ten minutes.”

Ten minutes before people start getting suspicious, Benny could and would last longer. You know he’s been edging, he managed to tuck away his hard on as you left his place, he wouldn’t have fucked his own hand.

He nodded, the flick switching in his head, his energy changed more to how he was in the field or in the ring.

“Hold onto the sink, darlin’.”

“Haven’t heard you call me that in a while.”

You watch his reflection in the mirror as he tears down his shorts and boxer, just enough to allow his swollen cock to swing out.

“Slip of the tongue,” he blushes.

He preferred Bunny, the other guys were catching on to it too.

His attention returns to your ass, stroking your skirt before he stretches for the hem. He bunches the material over your hips to your waist, where it holds by itself.

“Fuuuck,” he growls. “How does it get better underneath?”

You feel his cold fingertips trail over your thigh high socks.

“Benny, concentrate.”

Christ, the Millers and their infatuation with high rising socks of any kind.

Time was of the essence.

He guides your ass back and forces your back to curve down. Hitching your underwear to the side, happy to see his fondling worked, your pussy succulent and ready. He brushes the tip over your folds, smearing your juices with his precum before he thrusts into your opening in one smooth motion.

Your hands slip on the basin, head dropping.

Allowing you a moment to compose, he meets your eyes in the mirror. Strands of his hair dance across his face, the rise of his eyebrows as he checks you’re ready.

It was the calm before the storm.

He comes back and thrusts into you again, the slap of hips meeting ass bouncing of the walls. 

Closing your eyes, your fingers hold tight, knuckles beginning to turn white before he fucks you frantically.

This was exhilarating.

The desperation in his movements as he chases his release, the harshness of his strokes as he takes everything from you, the air in your longs, the sound of your voice. The space was filling with him, his grunts, his musk, his heat. You were never going to cum like this, this wasn’t for you, this was all for him.

It didn’t mean you weren’t huffing sweetly, leaning you body at the right angle for him to keep plowing into you.

The tightness in his abs comes quickly, the weight of his balls heavy.

He brings his eyes up from where his cock disappears into you to see the two of you reflected back at him. He’s a bit of a mess, hair refusing to stay in place, the column of his throat taut, his movements getting sloppy. Yet you, you appeared to be in a state of euphoria, the pink of your tongue poking through your teeth, chest held high showing the faint curve of your breasts.

He’s almost there, his hips stutter, head falling to your shoulder.

“Shit,” he utters.

Your fingers come to his hair, encouraging him to continue, to look up.

In the mirror, your eyes hide behind heavy lids, the light in the bathroom casting the shadows of your eyelashes across your cheeks. You smile, teasing his cheek and jaw until his own returns.

That’s what you like to see.

He goes hard and fast, eyes still focused on yours.

Your chest was flushing under his intense stare, your inner walls pulsing. He clenches his jaw, baring his teeth as his whole body stiffens. His final thrust buries deep, his cock filling you to the hilt.

A straggled moan comes from his chest.

You both freeze as if you suddenly remembered where you were and you pierce your lips.

“D’you think anyone heard us?”

He sniggers, “Maybe.”

You cover your face with your hands before giggling too.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he pats your ass, slipping out seamlessly.

He takes a handful of toilet roll and wipes your folds, pushing his cum back in with your accompanying moan, slipping your knickers back over. Getting some more, he cleans his cock and throws the waste into the toilet before flushing the evidence away. After tucking himself back into his shorts, he straightens out your skirt and takes you back into his arms.

You turn to face him, brushing his hair into place.

He brings his hands up your neck, cupping your jaw to tilt your head up. His expression has restored to it’s usual softness.

“Promise I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

He runs his thumbs along your cheekbones, waiting for an answer.

“I’m sure you will,” you deliver a quick kiss.

The corners of his mouth curl before he crashes to your lips, his sheer strength snatching your breath. You push against him, tongue begging for entry. He lets you in, his tongue twisting and melding into yours before an electrical chirp interrupts the mood. His teeth in your bottom lip serves as punishment.

“You set an alarm?”

You stuff a hand into your pocket and stop the noise, looking up at him sheepishly.

“We both know we can get a little caught up in the moment.”

He hums, “You’ve never complained.”

His comment makes you blush.

“Come on, Bunny, let’s get you back.”

The two of you make a stop off at one of the more popular coffee places to buy a pumpkin spiced drink for your assistant manager whilst Benny treats you to an extra hot hot chocolate. There’s a bounce in your step, a sway in your hips as you walk a couple of steps in front of him.

When you’re not too far from the shop, he slips his hand casually into yours. You freeze, lifting both your hands to inspected them before looking a him, eyes narrowing.

“Got to keep up appearances,” he quips.

So you walk with him and step through the door hand in hand, the sensation of his hand enveloping yours strange. Your assistant manager happily accepted her drink before telling Benny to stop distracting the workers.

“Want me to pick you up?”

“That’d be great,” you say breathily.

He give you a quick kiss, winking as he dropped your hand.

“See you later.”

He left before you had chance to say goodbye.

“I need to know everything,” your assistant manager had a glint in her eye.

But what was there to tell? You were just keeping up appearances.

[summertimemusician]

Linktober (Shadow) 2023

Spirit

Welp turns out my exam season throughly steam rolled through my general Linktober plans, so you get this VERY late thing for now folks who find this, at least until I decide whether to continue this until I finish it even though it's no longer Linktober or if I'll make whatever other stories come later their own thing after exam season is over (mostly because the original for this one is my preferred draft, and that I feel the one for the Link/Dark Link prompt would be kind of wasted if it just sat there collecting dust cause I worked hard on the tension and horror there lord darn it, along with a few others mainly involving Fae Hyrule, Twilight, Time, First, among other Links like Legend, Sky, Warriors, just all of the boys, I wanted to give them all proper spotlight and still want to do that in any way I can). Welp. *Downs coffee like a shot* Also really need to find out how to make a Masterlist on mobile, figure out how AO3 works and answer asks.

Anyway, not really any warnings this time besides Reader Not Being Okay (par the course really) and angst.

As always can be read as either romantic or platonic, Reader is gender neutral on purpose, technically is meant to be read as either Hero's Shade Time x Reader or First x Reader mainly, but you can interpret it as any Link really lol

Good reading!

This corner of Faron Woods was quiet this time of year.

The woods were solemn in this Hyrule, the sliver of moonlight barely enough of a guide through the mist, it was silent but for the soft padding of animals through the underbrush and the howl of a wolf in the distance (not Wolfie's, not musical enough). The stars were your only company as you were separated from the group, the air was cold agaisnt your skin as you attempted to find your way.

Being alone in the forests of Hyrule never spelled anything good for anyone, but as you felt the brush of a hand tenderly twined in yours, the ghost of leather and the faint clinking of steel, and a faint glow of pale gold and ivory cutting through the veil of the night, mindful of roots you may trip onto and never flickering too far out of sight you couldn't feel safer, even  if instead something like melancholy threatened to lock your throat with the chains of silence, you felt as warm as the soft twilight glow and as frigid as ice, frostburned with the bitter cold of your own warring emotions.

You can't help but chuckle a bit whille holding a old scabbard close to your heart, it's a wry sound, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

There is no answer, of course there isn't, but you don't mind, you know he'll listen, thorns wrap around your heart and crawl up your throat, the smell of lilies and steel coats and sticks in your throat like honey, or maybe blood, "... I didn't think you'd show up, you know? I always considered the possibility but..." You trail off, you feel something brush your side, you can only see him in the corner of your eyes or with a passing glance, there but not, existing but gone, so you keep your eyes on the road and in the flicker of light, so you carefully don't look to your side, you don't think you could contain the shaking in your heart otherwise, to stare at inevitability and prophecy, "... I know, I know you're fine. At least for now, I apologize for all the trouble I gave you."

'It's alright. It could never be a hardship aiding you.', the voice echoes in your ears, and you swallow thickly, breath hitching, the warmth of the sun in the fields of Hyrule, the wind caressing your hair, the song of the animals in Faron Woods, someone holding you carefully, fondly. The warmth of your hand in his. Not really here, but not gone either, more feeling than true echo.

You chuckle, and try to pretend it's not a bit breathless, something like a wounded keen, "... You're too kind. Too, too kind, thank you."

Spirits in Hyrule never spell anything good, in this wild land of light and shadow in a gestalt of divinity. There are some exceptions though, even if it hurts to witness then. So you follow him through the dark, certain that as you've guided his way once, he'll lead you now to where you need to go.

----------------------------------------------------------

... The clearing he leads you to is open, but by no means truly quiet among the trees, there is no peace to be found for the armored skeleton here. You choke on sorrow, on unfinished business, on the cruelty of being brought to ruin and being denied peace, and you stumble towards the familiar figure, almost in a trance as your vision blurs, roots and thorny vines wrap over rusted armor and a thorn cape, the skeleton's void sockets piercing through your soul, illuminated by the solemn gaze of the wretched moon and it's uncaring maids of honor in the stars.

You fall to your knees near the decaying skeleton, biting back against the wounded sound that attempts to leave your throat with enough strenght to bleed, you lay the scabbard by his side with a bouquet of lilies and shiver at the gentle, phantom touch, so soft, so loving it almost leads you to ruin all over again.

'... It's foolish to grieve for someone who isn't gone yet.' the thought comes to you, yet you can't help it. You still hurt for him, you still hold onto the fury at the heavens themselves for denying them quietus. For denying them rest over and over and over again. To watch this cycle and be helpless to stop it all due to the will of uncaring gods.

Alive. Dead. Alive. Dead. Denied full rest over and over again, to watch the chance at rest to the kindest of souls found in this world you found yourself in.

You barely register the touch to your cheek, ephemeral as it is, as you can't help but shed tears, can't help but grieve. Because if you don't, who will?

You know by now that some wounds can never heal, some rifts can never be mended. Even with the guarantee of cyclic, eternal rebirth, some things never return to how they were. And reminding yourself of this inevitability to them will never not hurt, even if you know it's futile to blame anyone but the one god who started this, and maybe the goddess who stood complacent to it. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth that it'll one day come to this, that the frost of death and the sharpness of pain will leave a mark the sands of time can't scar over.

You reach a trembling hand towards the one in your cheek, try to find catharsis in the remains of decayed, dead yet ever eternal, ever growing love. And you breathe.

'We'll meet again. So do not mourn for me, please.'

You don't think you could deny him if you tried. Not when you know he's trying to soothe you, to thaw your sorrow. To allow your heart's healing to fallow.

"We will, I know. I'm sorry for making you worry." You chuckle, leaning into the cold, trying to brand the memory of the shadowed, but not gone love given to you so you can return it in kind. Just until you meet again, just until you can give all you can to his not yet decomposing self, grasping onto what remains of him, "I love you."

'I love you too. Until we meet again.'

The cold is gone, the echo of love leaves. And you breathe, and pretend you don't feel empty.

(When you see Link again, reuniting with the Chain on the next day's twilight. You hug him as tight as you can, and hope you he doesn't notice the tears in your eyes. And that you don't feel the lingering traces of a frigid embrace.

When no one is looking, you wave goodbye to the shade. And pray he dreams of warmer days until he finds quietus.)

[delulumc]

Pretend Chapter 26: Eye Eye Eyes | Part 2

Son Chaeyoung x Myoui Mina ♡ Pool date in Australia ♡ Suggestive fluff & Deep angst | Set during Ready To Be World Tour (2023) Word count: 4874 | CW: Gender Dysphoria

Read previous chapters on AO3

The sun hung low in the sky, a faded, golden disk that almost allowed you to look at it. Even though dusk was just a handful of hours away, the entire firmament burned with an intense and scorching heat that enveloped everything in an infinite expanse of bright, washed-out blue.

Mina floated in another, smaller blue infinity, facing the sky. Eyes closed, she felt the cold ripples of water lapping at the skin of her back, and the warm radiance of the Australian afternoon baking the front of her body at the same time.

Cold past behind her, warm future ahead. Her mind was still stuck in repetitive, obsessive thoughts, but it wasn’t tortuous memories anymore. It was brimming with possibility, with yearning of a different and more realistic kind. It was possessed by sheer want.

She stopped floating on her back and opened her eyes, turning to her own puddle of sunshine sitting on a sunlounger near the edge of the pool.

“Are you sure you’re not joining me?” Mina asked, not bothering to cover the tinge of neediness in her voice.

“Maybe later,” Chaeyoung answered with a smile. “The chlorine in pool water isn’t good for my bleached hair. I want it to hold out at least a couple more years before going entirely bald.”

Mina chuckled, hiding her mouth behind a small, elegant hand out of habit. Chaeyoung had complained about it before, saying she wanted to see every second of her smile without missing anything. Mina shot her hand down abruptly when she recalled that.

“I think you’d rock it. Even with a shaved head you’d be the cutest.”

Chaeyoung laughed, though something shifted ever so slightly in the angle of her smile. She looked back down and continued fiddling with her polaroid camera.

Mina shrugged off the tiny spike of annoyance in her chest and kept swimming, diving into the deepest part of the pool. It was funny, she thought, the way she’d felt like drowning constantly for most of her life. She thought the feeling would go away. She thought the weight of an ocean would have been lifted off her lungs when she threw herself bare in front of her love, of her end. It didn’t. She kept sinking, deeper, darker. Drawn into the depths by Chaeyoung’s siren song, into a bottomless flooded trench of desperate hunger. She'd been fed scraps, small kisses, reckless touches. It didn't sate her. On the contrary, her need became more pressing after the first taste. Longing caressed her heart from the inside, soft like a ghost. Cold like a knife. Mina held her breath until her chest hurt.

She emerged, gasping slightly, eyes closed. She brought her hands to her hair to pull it back in place, and was greeted with the sound of a shutter behind her. Shuddering slightly, a wave of satisfaction traveled down the curves of her back and dissipated into the water.

“For your collection?” She teased as she turned around, accidentally leaning into a sultry tone way more intense than she intended.

Chaeyoung blushed and stammered, trapped between a giggle and an unintelligibile word. “I, sorry, I mean, yeah, sorry. Like, uhh, can I?”

“Please do.” Mina gifted her a gummy smile. Heat emerged on her cheeks, blooming through the cold droplets that adorned her all over. “But for every photo, you’ll have to spend a minute in the pool with me in exchange.”

The girl grimaced, arching her eyebrows with an apologetic expression on her face. “I’d rather not. I’m very sorry.”

Mina sighed and let herself float on her back for a few moments again, letting her frustration simmer down and disperse into the water. She got lost in the endless pale blue of the sky once again. It was technically winter in the southern hemisphere, though even the Australian winter was as hot as a mildly crisp summer day in Seoul. Every so often a chilly breeze would blow from the nearby river and rake its claws across the rooftop pool area. It was deserted except for them. Mina couldn’t stand it anymore.

She turned to her girlfriend again. She had changed into a simple black swimsuit to go outside, with a bulky, oversized nylon jacket that covered her halfway down the thighs hanging loosely from her shoulders. She was bundled up on her chair, carefully arranging her polaroids on a towel so the wind wouldn’t blow them away.

“Is it that time of the month? Is that why you won’t come in?” Mina asked her.

Chaeyoung tilted her head slightly. It took a second for her to react, shooting her big eyes wide open. “What!? Um, no, it isn’t… No, it's… It’s kind of the opposite, actually.”

“The opposite? What’s the opposite of being on your period?”

The blonde girl shook her head vigorously. “Nevermind, I… I just misspoke.”

“Chaengie…” Mina gritted her teeth and got out of the pool, grabbing her sunglasses and putting them on with purpose as she walked to take a seat next to Chaeyoung.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” She sat down, laying a hand on her girlfriend’s.

“...Pic first. You look too sexy with your hair all wet like that.”

Taken aback, Mina couldn’t hold her giggle in. The water still clinging to her skin felt like it evaporated in an instant. Her fingers retracted instinctually, clamping down on Chaeyoung’s small hand.

The photographer continued swapping between her phone and her clunky camera, taking snapshots of Mina, the view from her chair and them both together with one device and then the other, documenting reality with precious meticulousness.

At the mere recalling of Chaeyoung’s ‘Gallery of pretty things’ in her phone and the memories and mementos she kept as polaroids, Mina’s heart started leaping and flipping inside her. She was taking pictures for both collections. Pretty memories. Beautiful memories. She suddenly understood Chaeyoung’s fondness for pictures - these were moments and feelings she desperately wanted to sear into her memory forever. 

Why ruin the afternoon prodding her girlfriend for answers she knew she wouldn’t get, at least not right now? She was probably nervous - after all, they were technically on their first proper date, and in a semi-public place where unwanted looks could be drawn to them. It was that exactly, nerves. Must be.

The sight before her caused a disobedient smile to ignore Mina's commands and bloom on her face, despite her efforts to contain it. 

“Instead of a photo, I’ll do you one better.” Mina said.

“Waaay ahead of you. Been taking videos too.” Chaeyoung answered without looking up.

“That isn’t what I meant.” Mina’s voice had lowered without her permission. 

A violent gust blew over them, making Chaeyoung’s hair thrash about wildly. She gave one of her soft tiger cub screams and giggled, covering the pictures she’d printed with a towel. Mina shuddered.

“Really? What did you mean, then? Do me what better?” Chaeyoung continued.

It still roused her like the first time, it still shook her from the soles of her feet, it still made the tiny hairs on her neck stand on end and the knot in her throat tighten and unravel. In the past few weeks she’d blissfully, thankfully lost the count of how many times she had kissed Chaeyoung’s plump, soft, rosy lips. How many times she’d felt the curve that fell into the corners of the girl’s mouth tug and stretch into a smile pressed against her own. How many times she’d opened her eyes during a tender and careful bite to steal furtive glances at her long eyelashes resting on her blushing cheeks. The times she’d caught her looking back with those big, round eyes with beautiful dark pupils she could fall into and never be found again.

She was no longer aware of how many times Chaeyoung had cradled her face with such care and reverence that she felt like the most valuable and fragile thing on earth. She had no idea how many seconds she’d spent feeling the girl’s round tip of her nose brush lightly against the sensitive skin of her face, locked in an embrace.

Thousands of times by now, probably. And still Mina’s soul was set alight with the same blinding brightness each and every time.

A low grunt rolled out of Chaeyoung as her lower lip was caught by a soft, affectionate nibble. Mina pushed with her face, hungry, desperate, forcing her girlfriend to lean back into the chair. With some effort, Chaeyoung pulled back, panting.

“Not… We’re not…” She looked around, her chest heaving. “We’re alone, right?”

Mina nodded and kissed her again, but Chaeyoung quickly used her hand to caress her cheek and gently guide her away again.

“You’re getting me all wet.”

Mina felt like her heart had jumped into her mouth. “What?”

“Pool water, I mean.” Chaeyoung’s face burned up in a second, blushing intensely. “Mina, I’m… I don’t feel okay doing this outside. Anyone could come up and see us. Let’s… try to keep it lowkey, alright?”

“Take it elsewhere, then?” Mina asked with a breathy whisper.

The younger girl only looked at her, mouth slightly open as if asking for more. She hesitated for a moment.

Selfish, brash and reckless, Mina took Chaeyoung by the hand and got up before she could speak.

______________________________________________________________

Ever since I was little I’ve spent most of my time alone, locked in my room.  I wasn’t really interested in people and I wasn’t good at communicating, so I spent all day with games,  knitting, legos and toys. I was perfectly content by myself. When I entered highschool I was pushed and shoved into having a more active social life, but I think I didn’t change much. My hobbies remain the same all this time later, and most of my days are still just like that: alone, locked in my room. Familiar, comforting walls all around keeping me safe and hidden.  There’s scary stuff outside.

Sometimes I feel like there’s something fundamentally different in me, though. I couldn’t tell at first, not until I ventured out and talked with other people. But it was always there. Turns out I’m pretty, who would’ve thought? Boys lined up to confess to me, but I couldn’t reciprocate. There’s nothing there for them. My classmates couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand this thing I have inside me. They went out on dates, got boyfriends, broke up, talked about love. Got their hearts broken, their bodies taken, their lives changed. I was tormented by a strange hunger while everyone around me feasted, but I didn’t even have a mouth to eat with.

The longing, the loneliness inside me grew until I couldn’t take it. I stole a bite. A single morsel.  I was quickly taught I mustn't even open my mouth. That I must stay safe and hidden. There’s scary stuff inside. So the hunger grew. Unchecked, ignored. Years passed, and I withdrew more and more into my room, into myself. I gave up on love. It wasn’t for me. But then I met her. My Chaeyoung. I wouldn’t say she helped me open up. Saying she turned me inside out would be more accurate.

It’s her face. Her voice. That tiny pointy tooth that pokes out from the edge of her smile. Her shadow, her very silhouette. It’s enough to shake me out of the autopilot I had settled into and start living my life again. To live it with purpose, to take control. All to steer myself in her direction. I’m locked in my room like always and she’s sitting right there at the edge of the bed looking up at me, making the walls feel like they’re a mile away. Making me feel exposed, in danger and dangerous. Her beauty mark calls to me like it’s done from the very first time I saw her, saying ‘put a thousand kisses right here.’

Lust I’ve known, and learned to suffocate. This goes beyond that. She’s earned my heart, taken it by force by merely existing next to me. And as if it wasn’t enough, she stares at me with those big doe eyes, those long eyelashes batting the air at every blink. Asking what I’ll do to her without using words.  She’s the cutest thing in the entire world, and I want to eat her up. Her soft voice. Her skinny frame. Her small hands. I adore all of it. There’s a sweet heaviness in the air. It’s so heavy she can’t lift her eyes, stuck to the floor. It’s hard to breathe. I’m trembling with excitement. I want to find an explanation, but there’s nothing there for me. Maybe it’s the way she’s always been there for me, taking care of me when I couldn’t. Maybe it’s the way she tries to cheer me up even through her own sadness. Maybe it’s how she taught me not to be scared anymore. 

I don’t know what it is, but the heat that builds up in me, the cloudy daze I’m slipping into, it’s all making the room feel cold. Her loving gaze prods me onward. It takes some effort for my voice to come. “Undress me, please.” She doesn’t. Her face changes. The excitement, the yearning mirroring my own is still there inside her eyes, but her posture shrinks. I grab her hands and she doesn’t pull away. They’re warm, and small. Smaller than mine, but her fingers are long, longer than mine. I guide them to my neck and back, and this time her hands comply and shake against the knot and clasp of my bathing suit until they’re undone. I let her go. Her arms fall back onto her lap and she stares, vacant, frozen, so I take care of the bottom piece myself.

I look down in a haze, and barely recognize the naked body I see. Poised for what it’s demanding. Tensed as if prepared for straining work. Covered in the slight shimmering moisture of the pool, a cold layer of microscopic droplets that makes light bounce off the skin in ways I’ve never seen or imagined. There’s something a bit like pride, resemblant of confidence, that sparks in my chest. Laid as bare and enticing as I can be in front of the maw I’ve so long dreamt of offering myself to. There’s no reaction. She’s perfectly still.

“Chaeng-Chaeng?”

She jolted, looking up and refocusing her vision. Mina grabbed her hands with tender care. They were still shaking. The black-haired woman took a step closer to her girlfriend, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and looking up at her with fearful reverence through watery eyes.

A few minutes ago she was barely able to process the sight of Mina’s bare back, interrupted only by a pesky strip of black cloth running across it. The smooth, soft, unfairly perfect skin of her back had been an object of her obsession for years, and a cherished view whenever she used open-back clothes for a photoshoot, a concert, or right now. From barely being able to function just for seeing her in a bikini, having Mina be completely naked in front of her had caused her to shut down, if not only for the impending doom she was going to be put through. It was too much.

Mina caressed the back of her hands using her thumb. The stimulation brought her back to earth for a moment.

“Back then, at the park, I asked you to kiss me. But I had to do it myself.” Mina said. Chaeyoung looked back down at her feet.

The woman continued, raising her voice ever so slightly. “...I asked you to come with me here, but I had to drag you by the hand. I asked you to undress me and here I am in front of you, of my own volition.”

She sat down next to Chaeyoung, who wouldn’t move at all anymore.

“I don't have a problem with asking, even begging, if it's for you. But I make you do all this, and you don't even protest, and won't reject me… And yet you won't lay a finger on me either, unless I do it first.”

The younger girl swallowed coarsely.

“What is it that you want, Chaengie?”

It took her a moment. “I want you, but-” 

“No, don't say but.” Mina’s voice went back down to her gentle, whispery tone, brimming with careful kindness, though shaking with impatience. 

“Say it in one word, or a single sentence, but no excuses anymore. Please. I know the thing you want the most isn't me. That's fine. Tell me what it is.”

Mina was expecting to see tears, but they didn’t come. Her girlfriend clenched her fists instead.

“I just want to feel like it's okay to be me, alright?” Chaeyoung looked at her abruptly. The tears were there, a reflection in the girl’s dark pools, expanded by anxiety. They were just refusing to fall.

Mina’s heart was squeezed. “Oh Chaeng-Chaeng, you're-”

“No, let me. Let me finish, okay?”

She pulled her hands away then breathed in and out of her mouth a few times, trying to calm herself.

“What you’re saying, the thing about me not wanting you. It’s actually the complete opposite. You got it all wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Mina’s brows furrowed. She sat down next to Chaeyoung, suddenly all too aware of her naked skin in the exposed air of the chilly room. Her girlfriend, ashamed, wouldn’t lift her gaze from her own shoes.

“I mean that I’m not what you want, Minari.” The nickname exposed her vulnerability. Chaeyoung’s heart was raw and tender, trying to grab onto any sort of comfort it could find.

“I cannot be what you want,” she reiterated. “I’m not dumb, I can tell how strongly you’ve been coming onto me.”

“Well, I certainly am sitting naked on the bed we share.” Mina tried to joke to lighten the mood, but regretted instantly when Chaeyoung just nodded and pursed her lips.

“I wish I could answer to what you’re asking, Mina. More than anything, believe me, I wish I was able to give what you want from me.”

“And what is it you think I want?” Mina asked, caution wrapping each of her words.

“I mean, you said it already. You’re naked next to me. Aren’t you cold?”

Mina nodded, and scooted closer to Chaeyoung. The clothed girl’s shoulders tensed up visibly.

“We can’t. I’m sorry. We can’t have sex. And I don’t know if I’m getting ahead of myself, or if I’m just projecting, but if you want this, us, to keep going, it can’t either. Not for long.” Chaeyoung’s voice trembled into a low monotone, submerged in despondence.

“There’s no future with us together, Mina. We can’t go out in public, we can’t become official, we can’t build our lives together. And it’s not because it’s taboo, not just because we’re idols.”

An uncomfortable, churning feeling inside her made Mina shift her position. Everything had been going so well, so unbelievably perfect, that she had decided to overlook Chaeyoung's obvious distress for weeks. Now the end of her perfect world was in sight, all for pretending things were well. She left out a shaky sigh, trying to force her face to remain neutral and attentive.

Chaeyoung sniffled, then slammed her balled up fists on the bed. “Fuck!”

Mina reeled out of sheer reflex, startled out of her panicking trance. The room felt colder by the second, the kind of cold that couldn’t be repelled by clothes or blankets.

“If it was that only - the public, the scandals, I wouldn’t give a shit. I’d ask you to come hide together in some other country, or deep in the mountains where it’s just us. That’d be so nice, so simple.”

She finally looked at Mina, locking eyes. Chaeyoung’s big, beautiful smile adorned her face, though behind it stood the saddest expression Mina had ever seen on her. Her eyebrows were arched, her eyes leaked tears silently. This tiny, vulnerable girl wasn't pushing her away. She was begging for help. Mina's heart grew a size, though it was a sad and foreboding feeling.

“Whatever it is, Chaengie, we can make it work. I don’t mind if-”

“No, you don’t get it.” She raised her voice, cutting Mina off. “I’ve never… I’ve never been…”

She choked back a sob. Mina reached for the girl’s hand, and managed to brush her thumb on the back of it before it was pulled away with fearful apprehension. Chaeyoung inhaled deeply.

“I’ve never been who you think I am. I’m transgender, Mina. I'm not… Not…” Her voice sounded like she was out of breath. Barely above a raspy whisper. It trailed off into nothing, her sentence left unfinished.

There was a lack of reaction for one moment. Mina brought her feet up to the bed, hugging her knees. The silence in the room became deafening.

“Okay.”

Chaeyoung was too busy staring at a corner of the room, her mind empty. She didn’t register the answer at first.

“It kind of crossed my mind a few times. Just a suspicion, but I thought it’d be ridiculous to… Sorry, I don’t…” Mina sighed, bringing her legs back down and crossing her arms instead.

“I’ve always known there’s something weird going on with you, Chaeng. Not weird, sorry. Nothing weird about… Sorry, let me start over.”

Mina shook her head, confused and frustrated at herself, still trying to digest what was happening. She got up and grabbed a light white jacket from her open suitcase, next to the bed. Her hands shook, betraying cold, nerves, or maybe both. Her strides back to Chaeyoung’s side, however, were purposeful and self-assured now that she was half-dressed.

She reached out with her hand hesitantly. She grabbed her girlfriend’s narrow chin with delicate care. The skin of her face glistened with silent tears. Mina leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you for telling me. I love you.”

“But?” Chaeyoung whispered.

“But nothing,” Mina sighed, sitting down. “It’s hard to swallow, obviously. It’s definitely not what-”

Chaeyoung interrupted. “I'm sorry. That’s what I meant, that’s the problem. I mean, you obviously want…” She exhaled, trying not to break as she wiped away her tears.

“I told you already. What I want is you. Only you, whatever you’re willing to give me. Whatever you can.” Mina protested with a hint of frustration in her tone.

“This body can’t do that. Don’t you get it? Sometimes I look at you and it breaks my heart, because you’re perfect. You’re like, made for me.”

Mina’s heart stirred, touched but worried sick.

Chaeyoung sniffled, then continued. “And maybe I tricked you into thinking something similar, but it’s just a trick. I made you love me but what you love isn’t what I am. I’m not perfect like you. Not even close.”

Mina was now staring at the floor too, unsure of what to say. “I’m so sorry, Chaeng. I love you, really.”

“But you don’t get it. There’s no way someone like you would get it.”

Chaeyoung sniffled a few more times, disturbing the stillness of the silence they were in.

They couldn’t tell how much time had passed when Mina talked again.

“I… learned to dance before I learned how to have a proper conversation.”

For just the second time, Chaeyoung looked directly at Mina. She continued. 

“Without dancing, without my body, I wouldn't know how to navigate the world. It's like a link, an interface of sorts. Between me and the outside.” She reached for Chaeyoung’s hand again, and this time she didn’t pull away.

“If I become unable to dance or if there's a disconnect, or a rift between me and my body, I'd feel very lonely. I felt lonely before I danced. And I feel the least lonely when I'm dancing with you guys, to this day.”

Chaeyoung’s hoarse, dry voice tumbled out of her throat. “You… you actually kind of get it… How?”

“You've taught me a lot, even if you don't notice.” Mina smiled.

She continued. “But you know what, your body as a middle point, it works both ways. You may feel trapped inside, but you could also, you know, let other people reach in. Let me.”

“It’s not that I’m trapped. I just… It’s… I look at you, you’re perfect. You’re all I want. And this body of mine, it’s…”

“Look, Chaengie. I have to go to the gym every other day, on top of all our practicing. I have weekly nutritionist consultations, laser hair removal every four months, dermatologist once a month. A perfect body doesn't exist. Our job is to get as close as possible, and you're the best at your job.”

Chaeyoung looked puzzled. Her eyes had already acquired a pink tone, though she had stopped crying.

Mina got up. “Look at this scar,” she touched the side of her lower abdomen, bare and smooth, right at Chaeyoung’s eye level. 

“When I was 14 I got so stressed about liking girls that my appendix ruptured. My own dad took it out. I still think of him when I see it.”

“This discoloration on my shoulder? They always cover it up with makeup.” She shrugged off her jacket, not taking it off entirely. “I was 8 and fell off a persimmon tree while picking some for my mom. It's her favorite fruit. The scrape was horrible but it was worth it.”

Chaeyoung opened her mouth to ask what she was trying to accomplish, but Mina went on before she could speak up.

“This bruise on my shin is from earlier today, when I insisted on carrying your stuff. It's not permanent, but it's proof that I went out with you. It’s a reminder of our first date, for as long as it lasts.”

“And these?” She let the jacket fall to the floor. It hadn't registered earlier, but now it dawned on Chaeyoung all at once - the fact that Mina was showing her bare skin, her everything, presenting herself as she was. Not only that: she was deliberately pointing out her imperfections, and still she was perfect.

“These…” She slid her palms down her own waist, stopping at her hips near a few faint vertical lines on each side. “The dermatologist almost managed to erase them entirely by now, but these lines on my hips are stretch marks. I used to hate them. They showed up around the same time my ballet instructor said I was growing up wrong. I hated myself for it, but now I kinda like them. They’re proof I’ve grown.”

“You’re perfect, Mina.” Chaeyoung smiled through a second wave of tears.

“No I’m not. There's no such a thing as a perfect body, but yours, yours is perfect, because it's a part of you. It is you.”

Mina grabbed her hands again.

“Even if at face value you don't like the body you ended up with, it's yours, and it's been all this time. Your body's story is your story, Chaeyoung. I know you know this."

Chaeyoung looked at her with a face drenched in self-inflicted misery, but the budding start of a deeper, bigger and more heartfelt smile was evident on her mouth. Mina kept going, her voice remaining low despite the rising passion in it.

"Your tattoos, your gender and whatever you've done with it… It’s all you taking control of your body, you telling your own story through it. But even the parts that can’t be changed, the parts you can't control at all, they're still who you are. They're still part of your story. Let me be a part of it too."

Mina sat down again and grabbed Chaeyoung's head by the sides of her neck, caressing her softly behind the ears with her thumbs. 

"I love you. I love you, Chaeng-Chaeng. You're the most important person in my life, you're what makes me happiest in the whole world. Nothing's gonna change that."

Mina brought her closer and kissed her wet cheeks, her nose, her closed eyes. They were slow, tender kisses that made Chaeyoung shudder slightly. Mina cradled her girlfriend's head against her bare chest. Chaeyoung was warm, soft, her thin arms wrapped around her waist comforted her back. Their slow breathing soothed each other as the sky outside burned with an intense orange tint that dyed the entire room through the window.

Chaeyoung closed her eyes, grateful to live. Her fight or flight faded into bliss, as leftovers of adrenaline and dopamine in her bloodstream clinged onto a new stimulus. She hugged Mina harder, painfully aware of her bare skin, the soft warmth radiating from it laced with her aroma. It was enough to kick her heart into a frenzy once more. She was scared again, scared of what was inevitably coming. But something else held her fear back. 

Mina pulled her gently into the bed, laying down. A mass of dark, silky strands partially covered Chaeyoung's face, making her close her eyes and inhale the lavender-and-jasmine perfume with a deep sigh. With her eyes now closed, the first thing she felt was the weight shifting beside her, then a line of small kisses leaving a tingling trail on her jaw. She let herself sink.

[netherworldpost]

Sorry if you've been asked this before, but how do you get started working in, as you said, weird quasi-startups?

This is a history retelling, not advice, because the world I came up in doesn't exist anymore. I'm in my 40s and started in the '90s.

If you skim over all of this WATCH THE VIDEO AT THE END HERE IS A LINK TO SAID VIDEO IT IS A CONDENSED VERSION OF IT from a local design firm.

The video is not a rick roll. This one is though.

Now I hope you can trust me. This is a long post. I'll use HACKERS to break it up.

I have no connection to Coudal.

Or Rick Astley.

I get into the nitty-gritty Small Scale Stuff

Jim Coudal gets into the nitty-gritty of the Medium-to-Large Scale Stuff... in 2011. The basics remain the same.

I am realizing in linking this that I don't think Coudal Partners exists anymore? I think they shifted their entire focus to Field Notes notebooks?

Anyway, still relevant.

(No -- 1994... and... maybe a bit earlier I can't remember that far back)

As I say -- this is history, not advice -- I'll try to pepper in some advice.

In some ways that's bad (Flash animation used to pay really well when weighed against what it took to learn how to do it).

In some ways that's good (things like Stripe and BigCartel and Shopify and MailChimp and Tumblr exist).

I was an anxious, studious kid really into mythology with very little access to it. I had access to the internet for about 6-8 hours a week, so scrambled to cram as much into my brain as I could. A reminder this is the early to mid 1990s.

I realized at some point that websites could be built without special tech. I explicitly remember seeing a web hosting company have a late night television ad on Conan O'Brian, offering a few megabytes of space free.

I learned HTML.

Then CSS launched, and I learned CSS.

(...yeah, this... this was the '90s)

From there I learned Macromedia Flash (later Adobe Flash) because it could do things I couldn't do with programming -- because of my own limitations, the web's limitations, free server limitations... etc.

I learned Flash the same way I learned HTML and CSS -- taking things apart to see how they worked, making my own stuff, breaking things down (and just breaking things)

At some point I was able to secure my own computer + internet and just hammered things constantly until I had a grasp of the basics.

So with that technical background...

"I am a web designer, do you need a website?" I would just offer up. Friends on forums, people in shops, a few cold calls that didn't work out great because I'm not a talkative person.

Just. Constantly. Networking.

Which is an accurate but kinda useless term, right?

"How does one network, does one just shove business cards into the face of everyone they meet and say 'I am a business person'"?

...yes.

Diners, comic shops, tattoo parlors, independent restaurants.

To illustrate the differences of when I started versus today -- any time I went somewhere that didn't have a website, I would ask the person behind the counter --

"Hey are you thinking about launching a website?"

When it wasn't the owner/manager at the counter and they would say something like "I just work here," I'd ask for the manager's contact info to follow up.

The success rate of "I ask" versus "I get money out of this" was maybe 1%. Just constantly asking, constantly trying to build the business books.

Never taking things personally when ghosted or just ignored or it fell through.

Cool but it's 2023/2024... so... the second half of my story may help.

I eventually gathered up enough clients and student loans to go to school for design. I have mixed opinions on this.

I had a few teachers who needed Extremely Cheap Intern-Level Labor and I was able to parlay my web experience into these opportunities.

I learned print design, branding, color theory, the basics of art in school.

I learned better business models by doing business and fucking up and getting burned and taking notes on how to fuck up less and get burned less the next go-round.

I applied for an ad agency job and hacked their website to rebuild it to show I could build websites and they were like "okay well we have to hire you now because we're in love with you / we fucking hate you"

(both emotions at the same time) (I worked there 11 months then went to grad school / see above art school link, it also applies)

Great thanks but maybe get back to advice?

I made things. I still make things.

Pins, buttons, shirts, bridge models, a chair, a lamp, I hired blacksmiths to learn about blacksmithing, I traded logos for beer, a theater company needed artwork so I engaged in a multi-prong trade of theater tickets and candy and / and / and / and with various other friends / clients / non-sense makers.

I made things and if people didn't have money to pay for them, I took some of their product.

Sometimes I paid other people with that product for things I needed, sometimes I paid with my labor for things I needed... etc.

Kept doing that until I could leverage skills acquired against people with money. Meeting them the same way.

"Hey who does your website?"

"Hey who does your menu design?"

"I like your logos, do you have someone working on your brochures? Oh you hate your logo? Okay to be honest... I was using that as an opening line. I hate it too. Want to chat about redoing it?"

I fucked up a lot. I got burned a lot. There was more success than failure so I was able to keep going.

Modern Day Translations

A lot of that will work -- build a portfolio, keep it updated, if someone mentions they are launching a whatever, chat with them -- but also look at freelance agencies.

If you work for trade, then scale the work offered for the product received. Don't be afraid to say "nope, out of scope."

People who will take +50% of the commission but help you find the commissions and handle the tax paperwork.

Ultimately, the basics are the same.

Make stuff. Put it into a portfolio.

Get comfortable introducing yourself.

Learn not to take rejection personally.

Keep going. The number of clients I would get on the first project discussion was probably 5-10%. It would take an average of 18-24 months, average, before I'd get money out of people. MEGA EMPHASIS -- A LOT OF -- MEGA EMPHASIS "hey remember me? I didn't have budget before, but now I do!"

By "make stuff" I mean.

Stuff.

(Things I have actually made)

Websites, blogs, writing, temporary tattoos, posters, ads, animations, plush toys, paintings, poems, books, rubber stamps, ads, grocery store packaging.

A whirlwind of stuff.

"That sounds expensive and difficult"

Yes. That's the bad news. There is no magic solution to it aside from "be careful with your time and cash and contracts and good luck."

I am not a soft person who is going to promise you everything is going to be okay and if you just work hard enough then things will work out and if you're talented enough then money and clients and business will come to you.

The brutal reality is it is going to be extremely difficult for as long as you do it and my #1 piece of advice is "constantly evaluate if you would find more happiness in a traditionally structured job doing weird stuff on the side."

It is absolutely possible to make a weird job.

It gets easier if you have financial support from family and/or a partner who will help you survive the lean times. I mention this in the spirit of honesty -- a lot of folks with weird jobs had/have one, or both.

In my opinion, this isn't talked about enough, and it leads to this mystic "This person must be doing well and I can't get off the ground, ergo something is wrong with me / my work / my process / my..." -- not necessarily.

Right, wrong, or indifferent -- some people have extra-to-their-personal resources help that allows them to make stuff. More, bigger, and/or faster.

I had the advantage of starting 30 years ago when the talent pool was smaller and harder to find and the work was harder to understand by people who were hiring.

Take what you have and try to make more of it being careful to spend as little as you can with it as it grows.

That's the essence of business.

Everything else is salad dressing.

SO MANY WORDS

I'll wrap up:

Start small and affordable

Figure out how to keep going when you want to stop but can keep going

Figure out how to stop when you want to keep going, but can't

Figure out how to start again when you have to stop

This isn't a moral or ethical dilemma -- it's business.

Cold, hard, ruthless business.

"Does it make sense to continue putting resources into this? Yes? Keep going.

"No? Pause.

"It never will make sense? Do this as a hobby, possibly an extensive and advanced hobby, possibly as 'this is my job in the sense I spend my resources here and the tasks I do for a company for money are life maintenance, on par with brushing my teeth."

Never work for free. Barter to a level mutual benefit.

If you want to work with other people, build a portfolio and keep it stocked with the stuff you want to do. Make up your own projects from literal scratch.

Most of the time, real work is better than personal work

BUT personal work is always better than no work.

This is cross-sectional -- if you want to make logos, it's better to show real work logos.

If you don't have any, make personal work logos and fold these into real work brochures, which you WILL DO but DONT WANT TO DO, as you build your logo business.

As your logo business builds up, replace real work logos + keep personal work logos and reduce brochures until you have enough (of either form) of logos to just have a logo portfolio.

Here is that video from Jim Coudal again talking about his (former?) design firm, Coudal Partners, and how it evolved to partner to create Field Notes

A final disclaimer:

I do not know Jim Coudal, I've never worked with him or FIeld Notes, they don't know I exist in any capacity. His projects are significantly larger than anything I have the appetite to tackle (I like small, weird things nearly exclusively)

This video + countless similar talks helped me build me up to where i am with advice, ideas, and the strength to get through the invariable weird / hard times.

[999ghosts]

How I see the Hat Box Ghosts Addition to Walt Disney World’s Haunted Mansion…

I haven’t posted about it that I remember, but after the reveal of where the Hat Box Ghost was to be located at WDW and then when he arrived, there was quite an uproar with fans, though some divided on the subject.

Some found it broke the story telling of the mansion. That the ghosts couldn’t appear until Madame Leota called them forth.

Having Hatty appearing before that ruins it.

Well in my opinion, it doesn’t, and instead makes me feel it’s a bit of a nod to the 2023 movie in a way.

Spoilers.

When we meet the Hat Box Ghost in the movie, he’s been called to Gracey Manor by Madame Leota and never left.

This manor is designed like the Disneyland Haunted Mansion.

When we see the Manor that Hatty once lived in before death, it’s made to look like the Walt Disney World Haunted Mansion.

Gracey owns the DL Manor, this Hatty as a guest appears later.

Hatty appearing at the start of WDW feels like a nod to him as the owner like in the film and he is creating his guests.

It is still Gracey Manor in story for both rides still, but it doesn’t bother me so thinking of it like this.

Also, we do technically see ghosts and ghouls before Madame Leota called them forth. We see the busts watching us. The eyes watching us. The footsteps on the stairs. The floating candelabra. The man trying to escape the coffin and so on.

We may not see them fully formed till after Madame Leota calls them forth, but they are there and visible in their own ways.

Another reason it doesn’t bother me so much Hatty is before Leota.

But that’s just me.

[watashime-ciel]

my personal Rhythm Heaven headcanons

•at the moment i started typing this i had no electricity (12/4/2023 15:29) but ok lol

-DJ Yellow is very good at practically all subjects at school, except for math. he sleeps most of the year, so he has to intensify his grades in 2 weeks before the school year ends, and math is a pain. so while he studies, he asks Blue for help with "Whatever an ecuation is..." (still learning stuff from high school because he never intensified his math grades that much)

-J.J and Cecil live together in an apartment in Tokyo, while DJ Yellow and Blue live together in another apartment somewhere 40 minutes away from Tokyo. this makes both DJs wake up earlier to catch the train to get to school, which is a hard task for Yellow. this man either goes to sleep at 6am or doesn't sleeps at all. how do you want him to be at the train station at 6:10am to catch the train, travel for 40 minutes, get to Tokyo at 6:50am and walk to school to get there at 7:15am? think again mister, that's not a possible action on this dude. better wait until the update comes. /lh

-DJ Yellow dresses up with whatever he wants. this includes skirts, dresses, all kinds of feminine clothes. because why not? it's his gender expression, let him be, brother. don't be surprised if he shows up at a convention dressed up as Rui Kamishiro and in day 2 he is cosplaying Hatsune Miku NT. while he's happy then it's okay, isn't it?

-important headcanon: the school everyone in Rhythm Heaven +my RH ocs go to is an all-in-one school. from primary school to college, university, everything. so yeah, they're technically adults, young adults, that even if they have a job they go to school to learn basics such as math, history, etc, BUT with rhythm. there's an interesting story about this school that is located in, SURPRISE, Tokyo (not really. all fictional), but today is not the day or time to talk about it (my 4g data is limited and so is my battery- plz electricity come back quick)

-DJ Yellow's favourite music artists, groups and bands are: More!More!Jump!, Wonderlands x Showtime, Steampianist, Hello, Happy World!; RAISE A SUILEN, Raychell, Skrillex, Mitchie M, Pastel*Palettes, Nightcord at 25:00, MARETU, DECO*27, Eve, Vivid BAD Squad, Alan Walker, all of the D4DJ groups but specially Happy Around!, all of the Heathers Musical songs, Kawaii Sprite, GHOST And Pals, Banshee, RudyWade, Goreshit and, most importantly, an 80% of remixes of the Monster song (you look up Monster remix and you tell me when you know what i'm talking about)

-Blue's favourites: Cuarteto de Nos, GHOST And Pals, Daisuke-P, Omoi, Kikuo, Jakeneutron, KairikiBear, Roselia, Steampianist, Nayutailen, TOPHAMHAT-KYO, Lemon Demon, FAKE TYPE., girl in red and The Living Tombstone

-J.J and Cecil have similar taste in music, such as last note., wowaka, Wind Rose, Lemon Demon, Afterglow, Roselia, Leo/Need, The GazettE, GOLDEN BOMBER, HACHI... but Cecil is a bit different on his playlists, since he has Bluey music added such as Keepy Uppy and Lollipop Yum Yum Yum, and maybe some Imagination Movers music

-everyone speaks japanese and english, buuuuuut: Yellow speaks spanish (Spanish, Mexican, Colombian, neutral, Chilenian and Argentine accent), he's learning French and is interested in Hawaiian. Blue speaks Indonesian more fluently than Japanese or English, since he was born and raised his first 7 years of life in Indonesia. J.J speaks Italian, which is his 'original' language (?). and Cecil knows a bit of French and Hawaiian. super convenient for Yellow, but he's not talking with "one of those guys". yeaaaah the Rockers vs DJs conflict has been going on for a while now

thats all i can share as for now. i really wish my electricity comes back soon, i cannot live with 4g and less than 80% of battery for a week. remember all of these are headcanons and theres NO NEED to attack or negatively criticize them if you don't like em. tenkius :P

[captains-price]

SoapGaz New Years kiss for @gaz-garrick 🥳 making this my first post of 2023 to hopefully encourage me to get more writing done this year and the gay vibes are what I’m bringing into the new year! Happy new year y’all!

———

They didn’t get to celebrate it often. They celebrated it even less together.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to spend the new year on a mission, or to be so busy with life and death situations that it escaped their mind entirely.

On the chance they were actually on leave when New Year’s Eve rolled around, it was hardly ever at the same time as the other 141 members. And it was never all of them together.

That’s what made tonight so special.

They weren’t on leave, technically speaking. But they were on a break between missions as they waited for their next orders to come in and send them to whatever hostile territory they always seemed to get sent to.

But the difference was they were all doing this mission together, and it was 5 minutes until midnight, and that was the important thing, in Gaz’s opinion.

They didn’t have much in terms of decoration as it was an impromptu decision on Soap’s part, but one Gaz had been quick to agree to, and the rest of the team ended up getting dragged into it as well. Their spirit was contagious like that.

They had taken some paper they found in the base they were staying at and written ‘HAPPY NEW YEAR 141’ so large that each letter took up a single page. Price had informed them where they could find some alcohol(it seemed like he had a stash in every base they stayed at but they chose not to question it), and they had all been sipping on it throughout the night. Not enough to get them drunk or stupid, but enough to loosen them up and make their smiles come a little easier.

Alejandro and Rudy had tagged along on the mission early on, and Alejandro’s loud voice carried through the room as he regaled some story to Farah and Alex who were brought in upon arriving at the base for reinforcements. If he was being honest, Gaz had lost the plot of the story 3 non-sequiturs ago but Alejandro’s enthusiasm kept the others entertained.

Ghost and Price were keeping each other entertained with what Gaz assumed was small talk, but it was hard to make out from the corner they had huddled themselves in. Price was smoking a cigar and Ghost had a glass of champagne. His mask was still on his face and Gaz would have thought the glass was just for show but every time he looked back, it was more empty so he figured he was somehow drinking it when no one was looking.

Even Laswell, who unfortunately couldn’t be there, had called and wished them a happy new year and informed them she’d be enjoying some quality time with her wife in this downtime. They all wished her well and sent her on her way.

Gaz felt a wave of fondness start small in his heart and expand through his chest as he watched his closest friends and family chat and mingle together in a moment of genuine happiness. Moments like this were rare for them.

All that’s missing was-

“We put on quite the party, don’t we?” He heard from his side, and when he turned to look, he saw the very man he had just been searching for.

Soap was staring straight ahead at the same scene he had just been looking at. His face was relaxed, more relaxed than Gaz could remember it being for a while. There was an easy upturn to his lips, no doubt feeling just as fond of the rest of the team as he had been.

When he turned to look at Gaz instead with a raised brow and smile so soft that it nearly took his breath away, he realized he still had yet to answer the other man.

“That-that we do.” Gaz said, coughing into his fist to hide his newfound awkwardness. Soap’s smile turned knowing and Gaz felt his lips purse before he was smiling too.

They held each others gaze for a moment before they were laughing, clinking their glasses of imported champagne over something even they couldn’t verbalize.

From there, they were content to stand next to each other in comfortable silence, once again watching their teammates that they’ve come to care so deeply about. It just passed 11:59 when Soap spoke again.

“We should do this more often, Gaz.”

“What’s that, Soap?” Gaz responded quickly, because now that the clock was ticking down, everyone was getting more restless and things were going to pop off soon. “The party? It’s hard to get together like this. This was a miracle enough as is.”

Soap was silent for just a moment longer. “I meant you and me.” Gaz’s head snapped so quickly to look at the sergeant, he swore he heard something pop. It was hard to tell in the dimly lit room, but he swore he saw a warmth to Soap’s cheeks that hadn’t been there before. “We should get together more. Just us. Y’know, away from it all.” Everyone else was still talking together, but at that moment, Gaz only heard Soap.

30 seconds left.

“Soap,” Gaz started, but he was unsure of how to progress. The words didn’t form, and even if they could, there wouldn’t be ones to express what he was feeling in that moment. Instead, as was usually the case, he let his actions speak louder than words.

Carefully, he turned to face Soap fully, and Soap turned towards him when his attention was grabbed. Gaz reached out and took hold of the glass in the other man’s hand. Their fingers brushed as he took it from him, and placed it and his own glass on a nearby table. Soap watched him the whole time with the same intensity he always had. Hyper focused and meticulous. It made Gaz’s skin tingle.

He took a step forward, and another when Soap made no qualms about it. He enjoyed the way Soap’s neck had to crane back to maintain eye contact. Soon, they were chest to chest. 10 seconds left. Everyone else began counting.

“10.”

“You know, Soap. I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss.”

“9.”

Soap looked at him with mild surprise before it was schooled by another smile that only Soap probably knew how to do.

“8.”

“Really? That’s tragic, mate. We cannae have that, now can we?”

“7.”

“Care to help me out with it, then?”

“6.”

Soap’s fingers came up to brush against Gaz’s ribs, gently pulling him closer.

“5.”

“I’ll certainly see what I can do.”

“4.”

Gaz rested his hands on Soap’s arms, feeling the well-trained muscle there. Gaz had seen Soap choke out and snap a man’s neck with those same arms.

“3.”

They were leaning closer together now. Soap’s eyes shut slowly, like he needed to drink in every second of Gaz’s face as possible. Gaz’s own eyes started to slide shut.

“2.”

Gaz felt warm breath intertwine with his a second before he felt what followed after it.

“1.”

Anything else they had to say fell away as Gaz leaned down at the same time that Soap pushed up. The kiss was soft, and gentle. Their lips fit together like they were made for it, and they moved in perfect tandem together. They knew each others moves as well now as they did on the battlefield.

It only took one of them tilting their head to deepen the kiss for Gaz to realize he could very easily get addicted to having Soap like this. He didn’t even care that they had an audience.

An audience, which he had been happy to forget about until one of them whistled loud and low. Gaz would have ignored that too, but then Alex was shouting “Get a room, you two!” and Gaz decided he could at least benefit from oxygen again if he was going to keep getting interrupted like this.

They pulled away from each other, and Soap’s half-lidded eyes were so mesmerizing they made Gaz want to kiss him again. He even started to lean forward to do that very thing but then Soap was turning away from him to look back at the team.

“Will you lot mind yer business? We were having a moment here!” He shouted at them, but that blissful smile on his face proved he wasn’t terribly upset with them.

“Yeah, we could all see your moment. That’s the problem.” Ghost chimed in. Soap, of course, wasn’t going to take that.

“Well look away then, ay? Then there won’t be a problem.” He retorted. Gaz heard other voices pop in with their thoughts and the room was filled with chatter again.

He didn’t listen too much. Instead, he leaned down and pecked Soap’s cheek, causing the other man to freeze mid rant and look back at him. They shared another intimate smile and wrapped each other closer in their arms, already leaning closer for more.

“Happy New Year, Kyle.”

“Happy New Year, Johnny.”

[seravphs]

Five recs (but the recs are my own writing) 

Thank you to lovely @gardenofnoah and @stellamancer for tagging me! 

Halfway through this I realized I was treating it like a writing critique instead of an actual fic rec so it’s more a reflection on how I’ve developed as a writer lmao.

hard feelings — I love Rin and the potential for exploring complicated relationships and feelings through him. Out of all my works, this is the most reader centric. I always feel like I can improve on my angst, and that it’s never as emotionally crippling as I want it to be, but I enjoyed writing about a more imperfect reader in this one. I’d love to keep writing for “bad” readers, actually!

ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies — I like amnqaitynl because it’s how I became friends with Aleks but also because I think it really captures the pining of a friendship turned something more. While it’s not high stakes because it’s just a college relationship, at the same time, it’s so intense! It’s everything to you, this friendship and the potential of losing it and the potential of earning something more, if you’re willing to take a little (big) risk.

religion, like crime, is also organized — Writing mafia fic is inherently hard because I’m constantly trying to avoid the wattpad label, but I really enjoyed exploring a fraught, tense dynamic where you’re not sure if the other person has your best interests at heart because the push and pull is so fun. Playing with religion as an element has always interested me as well!

a lost love takes a long time to die — The only long fic that made it onto this list is for Nanami, which is the way it should be. When I was writing Teen Dad Gojo all the way back in 2021, I always knew I was going to write a series of (unconnected) long fics for the big three (Nanami, Gojo, and Getou.) It took me until 2023 to finish alltalttd because I was so underdeveloped as a writer that I could never manage to write more than a few lines. I think it pushed me a lot in learning how to write fight scenes, deal with major character death, create a complete world, etc. whereas in Teen Dad! Gojo I completely bullshitted it if I’m being completely honest. I also really loved the supernatural element in this! If I could do it over, I wish I could explore the ghost marriage aspect more, especially culturally.

cruel summer universe — This is a love letter to the ordinary extraordinariness of having love in your life. Even though I write it to be very sweet and happy, in the back of my mind, I’m always thinking about how it ends in tragedy for Gojo and crew, so it reminds me of this quote about how even if the love didn’t save anyone, it was there. So this is the work that’s closest to my heart because it’s about how beautiful my relationships with others are.

It’s also my coming of age requiem! While I look forward to getting older, I’m nostalgic for a life that I know is now slipping out of my hands. I’ll still have the people I love, but the shape of our relationship will inevitably change with age. It feels like growing pains, something I have to resist until I realize how good it can be for me. 

Someone commented that it feels like a hug to read, and that’s how it feels to write. Even though it flopped so badly when I first posted it to the point where I thought it didn’t make it into the tags, it ended up being the fic I connect most with others on. Cruel Summer has brought me the most beautiful and heartfelt interactions.

honorable mention: arrive through obliteration — I don’t like the smut in this and I wish I could take it out lmao but I like the atmosphere! Fight scenes are also hard for me, so I’m really glad I pushed through it. 

honorable mention: starboy — technically star boy isn’t posted yet, but while I was working on it, I realized I’ve improved a lot since Teen Dad! Gojo. One of the reasons I dislike Teen Dad! Gojo so much is because I feel like a lot of the scenes could be trimmed down where I was struggling to move the timeline along, whereas in starboy, it feels fluid and natural.

no pressure tags: @seoafin (hope you’re enjoying Japan!) @oh-katsuki (also in Japan and presumably doing better things than thinking about fic lol but in case you want to!) @mintmatcha (no pressure means no pressure but I love your writing so I’d love to know what you think are your top five are!) @andypantsx3 (on hiatus...this is not shaping up well for me lol but if you’d like to, I’m interested in what your personal top five are!) @princess-okkotsu (you’ve definitely been tagged in this before but I would love to hear your thoughts on your writing!)  And anyone who’s reading! I’m serious, I would love to hear people’s thoughts on their own work! A writer I really like does author’s notes whenever she posts a fic and reading them after I finish a fic is the best feeling. 

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Camp Wanamaker (Ch. 2/10)

June 24, 2023

Notes - Guess who had one of the busiest weeks of her life, yet still managed to write 35 pages - that’s right, it’s me! Guess who also forgot that Royce's birthday falls halfway through the week and she had already written out the day it takes place on, so she had to go back and add a hint at his birthday being, you know, a thing... Yeah, also me.

Chapter 2 - Gives You Hell

Sundays, typically, were free days in the O’Brian household. Before Damien and Chelsea’s separation, they spent Sundays doing something as a family. Bowling, arcades, go-kart racing, and visits to museums became the norm until everything was finalized. Although the pair chose to stay in the same house to take care of the children and watch them grow together, Sundays were a common thread of adventures and excitement they would spend as a family. Over time, however, the excitement faded as schedules filled up and the children grew interests of their own. Though there were the occasional Sundays spent in the back pew of the church in the next town over or attempting to have fun at the town’s practically unused candlepin bowling alley, most days were spent bustling around Sanbornton - each member of the family doing something different than the next.

Contrary to popular belief, Vivien enjoyed Sundays. Well, most of the time. As she had been the oldest of the siblings, she remembered the most from the time before their parents’ divorce. She could recall going on long drives in the family’s minivan, hogging the bench seat in the far back all to herself, and using Pac-Man to kick a bunch of ghost asses as she button-mashed her Atomic Purple Game Boy. More often than not, she spent her Sundays draining her parents’ bank accounts wherever they went and filling the rest of the back seat with stuffed animals and bags filled with souvenirs. Despite those days being long gone, Vivien still found herself enjoying Sundays in particular, just for a different reason.

As her family’s schedules became cluttered and they had less time to spend on day trips to far-off places, she had begun spending more weekends with her Aunt Hayley and her girlfriend, Charlie, sometimes staying from Friday night to Sunday evening with the woman she had always felt close with. During the summer, however, things were different. The first time Vivien had spent a full summer with Hayley and Charlie, she was ten, and the pair had signed up to work at the summer camp Chelsea and Hayley’s parents owned - Camp Wanamaker. Vivien was the youngest person there when they arrived that Sunday, as Hayley and Charlie were there for the workers-only week. Most of the people at the camp enjoyed having Vivien around despite her age, and, as the first week came to a close and bus-loads of campers began piling in on the following Monday, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment that her week of being treated like the camp’s princess was over.

Now that she was older and had spent many of her pre-teen and teenage summers at the camp as both a camper and a cabin lead, Vivien had grown to deeply appreciate Sundays for what they were: bookends. The summer seasons at Camp Wanamaker technically started on a Sunday for the workers as that was the first full day they would be there, and the season ended with the big, end-of-summer showcase on either the second or third Sunday of August. Sundays were, quite literally, the beginning and end of her summers at camp.

Maybe that was why Vivien liked summer Sundays so much. 

Sundays at Camp Wanamaker hardly ever changed. More often than not, Sundays were a constant in a world fueled by chaotic variables. Unlike most days at camp when counselors would chase down the kids they were responsible for and drag them to whatever activity was next for the day, Sundays at the camp were a day to rest, lounge around the cabins with your bunkmates, and eat s'mores around the campfire. Imagine Vivien’s surprise when she showed up to the mess hall on what was supposed to be a normal Sunday to see Carrie and Royce working well together in the kitchen, talking and laughing like old friends.  

Perhaps, however, we should start our story a week prior to this incident, on Sunday, the eighteenth of June.

Waking up in a room without stars on the ceiling was nothing new for Vivien O’Brian. Well, at least not during the summer. Waking up to the sound of gentle breathing was new, however. Slowly shifting her head upwards, Vivien found herself watching Royce as he slept soundly beside her. They had only done this a handful of times in their relationship - most of them accidental sleepovers on the Birch family’s living room floor - but Vivien found something oddly soothing about the gentle rise and fall of Royce’s chest as he slept peacefully. Trying not to roll her eyes at herself, Vivien let out a soft sigh; she was turning into Mick - sappy enough to fill an entire maple tree.

As much as she loved feeling like a mushy, lovesick, twenty-something-year-old, Vivien slowly detached herself from Royce’s grasp, giving the snoring blond on the other side of her boyfriend a chance to absorb Royce’s unending warmth as she rose from the bed and grabbed her glasses from the nightstand before creeping out of the room as silently as she could. Heading around the balcony toward the room she had claimed the day prior, Vivien tried not to laugh as she passed the room where a certain auburn-haired male muttered a cuss in his sleep and rolled onto his side with an incoherent, grumbling complaint. Reaching her bedroom, Vivien softly closed the door and checked her phone for the weather before pulling a swimsuit from her dresser and bringing it with her to the bathroom to change into once she was ready for the day to begin.

By the time she had made it down to the water, the sun was just barely breaching the horizon, casting an array of reds and pinks across the sky. Vivien sighed to herself as she stood at the waterline; if old wives’ tales could be trusted, red in the morning meant storms to come later in the day. Glad to have chosen to take a morning swim, Vivien ditched her towel and glasses on the sand under the pier before venturing into the chilly water. Once she was far enough out, Vivien dove into the water, happy to get the worst part over with as she resurfaced, staring up at the sky as though it could tell her what was in store for her that day.

To be fair, she had no intention of doing much apart from the norm. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were a staple, but apart from that, she had no plans. Maybe, if she felt up to it, she would go to the archery range with Mick or go up to the counselor’s lodge to teach herself how to play her grandmother’s old violin in the vain hope that her terrible, wounded-cat-esque playing would encourage the older woman to teach her how to actually handle the old string instrument. As Vivien let the water carry her further from the shore, she took in a deep breath and relaxed - it felt nice not to have plans for once.

Time became nothing more than an illusion as Vivien floated on the water, the sun gradually warming the waves as it steadily rose overhead. After what felt like nothing more than a few minutes had passed, Vivien jolted as a hand captured her ankle. The hand released her as she began treading water, coming face to face with the blurry visage of who she presumed was none other than her boyfriend.

“Royce?” she questioned.

“Not quite,” the voice replied, a smirk noticeable in the male’s tone.

Vivien usually felt pretty confident in her ability to differentiate between voices, but for some reason, she couldn’t tell who this person was. “Are you one of the people I’m staying with?” she asked.

“No,” the man replied.

Cautiously, she questioned, “Do I know you?”

“You might if you were wearing your glasses,” he snickered. Ah, so whoever had chosen to approach her had a sense of humor - duly noted.

If he knew she had glasses, there was a chance she truly did know whoever it was, but Vivien wasn’t easily convinced. He could have easily spotted her glasses on her towel and taken that information with him. Then again, she had left her things under the pier. With a sigh, Vivien asked, “Are we close to shore?”

The water sloshed around them as the mystery man looked around, “We’re near the end of the pier.”

With a nod, Vivien gestured for the man to lead the way and followed the sound of splashes until she found sand under her feet again. After running a hand over her dripping hair and wiping her eyes of water, Vivien followed the edge of the pier until she found her hiding spot. Taking her glasses from where she’d left them, Vivien placed them on the bridge of her nose and wrapped her violet towel around her shoulders, clutching it close with wrinkly, raisin-like fingers before turning toward the only other person on the beach. Standing not far away with a crooked smile, shimmering green eyes, and drenched, golden brown hair was a man who, if the tattoo of the Spider-Man symbol on his wrist was anything to go by, was a bit older than Vivien. Though he had no shirt on, he was quick to pick one up from the sand, taking his phone from it before shaking it free of sand. To her dismay, however, nothing about the person before her rang any bells. He just looked like some random guy.

“I’m sorry,” she began slowly, sending the man an apologetic smile, “I’m not sure I recognize you.”

The man chuckled, “That’s alright, Viv. I get it. I’ve changed a lot since you last saw me.”

“I guess so,” Vivien chuckled nervously.

Instead of pressing further, the green-eyed man unlocked his cell phone and tapped on it before scrolling a few times and tapping on something. With a smile, he turned the phone around to Vivien and held it out to her, allowing her to take it as he said, “That might help.”

The picture he had chosen was an old photograph that had been taken long ago at a party at the next town’s roller rink. Vivien vaguely remembered the party, recalling the disco ball shining brightly overhead, the many falls to the wooden floor she had taken, and spending time with the birthday boy in the arcade after both of them had collided into a heap and scuffed up their knees. Despite the birthday boy being born a year before her, Vivien had grown up with him, both of them being in the same class from kindergarten to sixth grade and spending most of their evenings at the boy’s house, doing their homework together before battling each other to the death on different games his family had that Vivien’s didn’t. They were quite close, and, if Vivien remembered correctly, the boy’s birthday party was the last time she had seen him before his family’s move to Seattle.

Examining the photograph, Vivien found herself staring at a younger version of herself - metal-filled mouth and all - who sat beside a boy with dark hair that had only just begun to grow back in after his buzz cut, their matching green eyes shining as they gave each other bunny ears. As the puzzle pieces began to fall into place, Vivien looked up, finding those same green eyes shining back at her. Moving the phone up so that she could look between the two, Vivien breathed, “Noah?”

With a widening smile and a nod, he chuckled, “Hey, Vivien.”

Noah Michaels had certainly changed over the five years they had been apart. The once-geeky boy had transformed into someone who could have easily walked off of the set of some beach show. His previously buzzed hair was now long, he stood quite a bit taller, and, if Vivien had to guess, he had been working out over the years. However, that didn’t change the fact that she could vividly remember forcing him to dress up as Anna from Frozen when they were seven so that she had someone to perform with at the school talent show when her friend Ivy got the flu the day before. Regardless of how much had changed over time, Noah was still the dumbass she had grown up with.

“I thought you guys moved out to Washington,” Vivien claimed as she handed back the phone.

“We did,” he confirmed. “Seattle to Los Angeles, Los Angeles to some small town in New Jersey, and from there back to Lisbon.”

“You live in Lisbon now?”

“Mhm,” Noah hummed. “Dad left the military, and we decided to move back to the area to be closer to family.”

Vivien nodded, sparing a glance at the cabin as the front door creaked open, and a barely alert Royce made his way outside. Turning back toward Noah, she asked, “So, what brings you to camp?”

He chuckled, “I ran into some of the guys from school and they were telling me that they were going to work the summer here, so I decided I’d try it out too. What about you?”

“My grandparents own the place, so I’m here every year,” Vivien replied as Royce neared her. Stretching out an arm, Vivien pulled her boyfriend close, allowing him to kiss her cheek before turning back to Noah and saying, “Noah, this is my boyfriend, Royce. Royce, this is Noah; we grew up together.”

“Nice to meet you,” Royce yawned, holding out a hand.

Noah was quick to latch on with a smile, “Likewise, man.”

Royce eyed the tattoo with a raised eyebrow and asked, “Is that from Spider-Man?”

As emerald eyes glimmered, Noah nodded, “Yeah, it’s the Tobey Maguire one. I got it for my birthday back in October.”

“Nice,” Royce commented, stifling another yawn as he turned to Vivien and smiled. “Were you out swimming for a long time?”

“I’m not sure,” she shrugged. “It was around five when I got up.”

“It’s six-twenty,” Noah claimed, checking his phone before clicking it off again.

Vivien chuckled, “I guess I was out there longer than I thought.”

The three stood around almost awkwardly for a while before Noah grinned and said, “Well, I’ll let you two spend some time together. I’m going to get my morning swim in.”

“Since when do you swim?” Vivien questioned as Noah set his shirt and cell phone on the edge of the pier. “Last I knew, you sink like a rock in any body of water.”

Noah let out a bark of laughter, “I used to, yeah. I took swimming lessons in LA and ended up joining a swim team last year. I’m hoping to do a triathlon in a year or two.”

“Holy shit, man!” Vivien laughed. “I don’t even know what I want to do in an hour or two, let alone a year or so.”

Noah chuckled, running a hand through his hair and pushing it out of his face, “Yeah, well, I’m hoping to compete with my dad at some point, so I’m trying my hardest to prepare for the day when it comes.”

“Ah,” Vivien breathed, nodding in understanding. “Well, in that case, I suppose we better let you get to it.”

“Thanks. I hope you guys have a good rest of your morning,” Noah smiled. Turning his focus onto Royce, he added, “It was nice meeting you, Royce.”

“Yeah,” Royce nodded as the other boy headed toward the water. “It was nice meeting you, too.”

With a final wave to her friend, Vivien took Royce by the hand and guided him back toward the lodge, allowing him to sit on the wooden porch swing at the front of the building as she took advantage of the outdoor shower on the side. As Vivien recalled stories from her childhood with Noah, Royce watched the taller, older boy swim across to the other side of the lake with ease. Royce laughed distantly as Vivien made a joke about cake and water balloons as he watched Noah glide across the water. If that had been him, Royce would have had to stop time and time again to catch his breath and try not to panic as large fish brushed his legs. Back home, he had no problem in the water as sea creatures kept their distance from the crashing shoreline, but after accidentally kicking a fish in the lake the night before and feeling its slimy scales glide across his leg, the thought of it happening again made Royce’s skin crawl. How Noah was handling himself so well, Royce had no idea, but he was impressed all the same.

As Vivien finished washing the lake water smell from her hair, Royce moved so that she could sit beside him and the pair watched the sky glow in an array of hues until it was almost time for breakfast. Sitting beside Vivien as he stabbed a piece of his pancake with a fork, Royce wasn’t too surprised to see Noah approach them with a smile, asking to join them for the first meal of the day. After going through a round of introductions, most of the people at the table fell into an easy conversation with Noah, listening to him recount stories from his adventures over the years. When Royce later asked if Vivien wanted to join him in the library, he was only mildly disappointed that she had already promised Noah that she would show him around the campground. After giving her a hug and wishing her a fun time with her friend, Royce watched them leave with a small smile before heading to the library to lounge around for a while.

When it began raining after lunch, Royce was sure she would return to the lodge to lounge in the living room and play cards with him and Bentley. However, he didn’t see her again until dinner when she and Noah burst into the mess hall soaking wet and laughing about something nobody else had any clue about. Happy to see his girlfriend enjoying herself with an old friend, Royce simply sat and listened as the two rambled on about all that they had done throughout the day. After the meal was over, the two finally split off and Vivien chattered on about the fun she’d had with the older boy for a while before eventually settling in on the living room with Riven, Royce, and Bentley. The quartet played a rather intense game of Monopoly that went well past lights-out, but nobody else in the lodge said a word as they were far more interested in who would win the game than they were about what hour it was.

Riven got sick of having to pay Bentley every turn and “accidentally” flipped the board as he exasperatedly laid back on the floor, coincidentally kicking the coffee table instead of Bentley’s thigh. With the game over, the cabin mates went their separate ways, heading to their bedrooms to change after wishing each other a good night. Once he was changed into his pajamas, Bentley headed for Royce’s room, sitting on the bed while Royce picked out an outfit for the next day. Royce listened with a smile as Bentley rambled about his day, having spent most of it attempting to mold a lump of wet clay into a vase in the pottery barn. Then, a simple statement caught his attention. 

“Then, when Viv and her friend came in, I stopped for a while and we hung out,” Bentley claimed, tossing a hacky sack he’d gotten from the activity shed into the air and catching it in the other hand.

“Oh yeah?” Royce wondered as he turned toward Bentley with a smile. “What did you guys do?”

Bentley shrugged, “Noah painted for a while with Viv and then he helped me cut the clay I wanted to work with since I had taken too much and it kept falling in on itself.”

“That’s cool,” Royce commented as he moved to sit on the edge of his bed. “What do you think of him?”

“He’s pretty cool, I guess,” Bentley offered. “I’ve only known him for a day, though.”

“Yeah,” Royce nodded. “Kind of hard to have an opinion after just a day.”

Bentley hummed, “But if Viv trusts him, I do too.”

Royce adjusted his pillow as he nodded. Bentley was right; although it had only been a day, Noah had gained everyone’s trust because Vivien knew him. It was a quick adjustment, but an easy one. Though he hadn’t spent much time with Noah, he seemed to be a good companion for Vivien outside of the people she now shared a cabin with. Royce smiled to himself as he relaxed into his mattress, glad that his girlfriend had another friend on the grounds of her family’s camp for the summer. Seeing her so excited to have reignited an old friendship made Royce happy all the same. Taking in a deep breath, Royce tried to think of ways he could try to get to know Noah better, wanting to put in an effort to become friends with Vivien’s old schoolmate.

Perhaps things were easier said than done.

Mondays were the one day every week Miles always dreaded. It wasn’t just the typical, “Monday means back to work or school, therefore, it sucks,” type of deal either, it was something much more than that. Regardless of whether or not he had to do anything, something always seemed to occur on a Monday to make him want to do nothing more than slam his head against a wall. It could be something as simple as his alarm not going off and it would still send his entire day down the drain. Sure, there were a few odd days where nothing would happen and he would simply be on edge all day, waiting for the inevitable, only for it to never come, but those were few and far between.

Today just so happened to be one of those rare days.

He had gotten up just before the camp’s speaker system began to play Highway to Hell, pushing himself from the blankets just as the song cut off halfway through and Vivien’s grandmother came over the speaker with an apology before starting a new song; he had arrived at the mess hall just in time for a new pot of coffee to be made available, earning himself a fresh cup of hot coffee that somehow managed to wake him up more than two cups of espresso could; his assignment for the day was to work in the fitness center, managing everything from the desk unless asked otherwise; and, to top it all off, he had free time to work on the song he and Vivien had been working on in their free time. As far as Mondays go, it was clear to Miles that this one far surpassed any other. However, that just set him even further on edge than he already was.

Miles wouldn’t say he was necessarily surprised when Vivien’s friend, Noah, crossed the threshold into the fitness center, but he was a bit taken aback to see Vivien with him. As far as he knew, the closest Vivien had come to working out was her time on the ice at her skating rink and her ballet classes, but as she followed the taller male to a leg press machine and instructed him on how much weight to add, Miles smirked to himself. He knew Vivien had legs of steel - she had to in order to be such an impressive skater - but it wasn’t until she easily out-pressed her friend, that he realized just how strong she was.

By the time it was nearly noon, Miles had watched the pair go through most of the machines, competing to see who was stronger or faster. From just over his notebook filled with musical notes, Miles watched the two argue about who ran further than who on the treadmill over the duration of a single song. With a shake of his head, Miles went back to working on his music until a hand grabbed the top of the book and he was forced to look up at Vivien’s cockily grinning face.

“Can I help you?” he drawled.

“I need an impartial person to keep track of my distance because someone-” Vivien glared over her shoulder at her friend, “-keeps restarting my machine when the song is over.”

Glancing at the green-eyed boy who didn’t bother wiping the mischievous smirk from his face before turning his gaze back toward Vivien, Miles sighed, “Do I have to?”

Before Vivien could answer with a sassy remark - because, yes, he did have to do his job - Noah spoke up, “You’re the one who’s currently in charge of the gym, aren’t you?”

Miles presumed that the boy’s remark was probably intended to be a humorous quip, but he found nothing overly funny about the teenager’s deadpan delivery. If anything, the boy sounded serious about the question. The only reason he gave the boy the faintest breath of a chuckle was because of the short snicker Vivien gave and, even then, it was obvious his reaction was forced. After giving Noah a quick once-over, Miles’ gaze flickered to Vivien and he placed his notebook on the table before rising from his seat. “I’ll be there in a minute,” Miles claimed with a nod.

Vivien gave Miles a quick smile before turning to Noah and saying, “Why don’t you go ahead? I have to tell Miles about something his girlfriend said this morning while he was too busy snoring into his coffee cup.”

Noah let out a short snort and nodded, “Yeah, alright.”

As Noah walked off, Vivien stayed glued to her spot before the desk and, once he was far enough away, she turned to Miles again before softly saying, “Noah isn’t the best at jokes.”

“I noticed,” Miles muttered, glancing at the boy.

“He’s trying,” Vivien offered. “He’s been homeschooled for a long time and I think it kept him from making a ton of friends. I think he’s just trying to navigate everyone’s sense of humor. It may not sound like it sometimes, but I promise, he is trying.”

From the moment he had heard about Noah, Miles was more than a bit apprehensive to accept him. While he wanted nothing more than for Vivien to be excited to spend time with her old friend, the way Royce’s eyes dulled ever-so-slightly while Vivien’s glowed as she sang the boy’s praises at the breakfast table, made an uncomfortable pit begin to grow in Miles’ gut. Despite his instincts screaming at him to tell Vivien he felt off about the boy she was so delighted to spend time with, Miles could see just how eager she was for him to accept her friend. So, as he swallowed his commentary for the time being, Miles took in a deep breath and reached across the table to nudge Vivien’s shoulder.

“Relax, kiddo,” he began as he rounded the desk. “I get it. I’ll pass the message along to the others to make things easier for him.”

“Really?” Vivien questioned. “You would do that?”

“Of course,” Miles agreed. “Now, let’s get this race over with before lunch.”

Vivien beamed, sliding an arm around Miles as they walked toward the waiting treadmill, “Merci, Miles.”

Bringing an arm around the brunette’s shoulders, Miles grinned, “Toujours, Vivien.”

Once the lunch announcement echoed throughout the camp and the fitness center was empty, Miles gathered his notebook and drink and left for the mess hall where almost everyone from their cabin was already sitting around their typical lunch table. As Miles joined the line of people waiting to fill their plates with food, he glanced over at the table where Royce sat between Vivien and Bentley, the three of them laughing and talking as they always did. The trio looked up as a familiar head of golden brown hair approached, but instead of continuing on to sit with the other workers he was bunking with in one of the cabins on the far side of the camp, Noah took up a spot across from Vivien.

Taking in a breath and forcing himself to smile as the kids noticed him looking over at them, Miles jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder. Chuckling, Vivien’s grandfather removed his hand as Miles turned to face him, “Just me, son.”

“Sorry, sir,” Miles apologized as he placed a slice of pizza on his plate.

“Don’t be,” the man brushed off. “And, Miles, you don’t have to call me sir.”

Peering at the man from the corner of his eyes, Miles chuckled nervously, “I’m not sure what else I would call you.”

“Most of the counselors call me Chief,” George suggested, glancing around cautiously to see if his wife was watching before adding another two slices of pizza to his plate. Turning back toward Miles with a bright smile, the man placed a hand on Miles’ arm and continued his previous train of thought, “Vivien and some of her friends, however, call me Grandpa George. The choice is yours, son.”

Smiling at the man’s gesture, Miles nodded, “Alright, then. Thank you.”

“Of course,” George said, patting Miles on the arm before stepping around him. “Now, would you care to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“What do you mean?” Miles wondered.

George’s eyes shone knowingly as he met Miles curious stare. “You’re worried about something. I want to offer help if I can.”

With a heavy sigh, Miles glanced at his plate before looking over to where Bentley and Royce were listening to Vivien and Noah blather on about their day, “I’m not sure it can be helped, really.”

“Ah,” George breathed, following Miles’ line of sight to where his granddaughter and her friends sat. “You’re worried about Noah coming between Vivien and your brothers.”

Whirling around to find George once again, Miles asked, “How did you figure that out?”

“I’m old,” George shrugged. “I see things clearer now than I did when I was your age.”

“Tell that to your eye doctors,” Dawn commented as she joined them. Turning her gentle gaze onto Miles, she smiled, “Truthfully, Miles, you don’t have much to worry about when it comes to Vivien.”

“It’s not necessarily her that I’m worried about,” Miles admitted.

“Noah, then?” Dawn presumed. When Miles relented a nod of confirmation, she shook her head. “Long ago, when they were still just children, we all used to say that the two of them would be a cute couple. Nowadays, however, I couldn’t say the same.”

George nodded, “They’re good friends, sure, but there is nothing romantic between them on either side.”

“How can you be so sure?” Miles asked. “All day yesterday and today, he’s been attached at her hip.”

Dawn found George’s eyes and sighed, “That might be my fault. I asked Vivien to show him around this week and help him feel more comfortable. He’s shadowing her until Sunday. After that, I believe we’re setting him up as a lifeguard at the pool.”

“So it’s just for this week?” Miles asked.

Dawn hummed as George nodded, “It should be, yes.”

Reassured that things would return to normal by the end of the week, Miles smiled and thanked the older couple before making his way to the table where everyone was listening to Bentley talk about how someone got slammed in the face by a basketball earlier in the day. Once lunch was over and everyone was allowed some free time, Miles accompanied his brothers to the art barn, where Bentley proudly showed them how he managed to make a lopsided bowl that he insisted Miles could put by the door to hold his keys. After spending a few hours messily attempting to make something out of a lump of clay, the dinner bell rang and they cleaned things up before leaving to see what was being served in the mess hall.

Later that night, when Miles was sitting on the joined section of the pier with Royce and Bentley to watch the sunset, he took in a deep breath and turned to Royce and asked, “So, what do you think about this Noah guy?”

“He’s alright,” Royce shrugged, swinging his legs back and forth in the water. “He’s not overly talkative with anyone other than Vivien, but he’s getting better at talking with me and Benny now that we’ve hung out a little.”

Miles hummed, “Viv’s grandparents said that he’s shadowing her for the week to see if that helps him get more comfortable with people.”

“They picked a good person to help him,” Bentley said. “She’s one of the most outgoing people here.”

With a chuckle, Miles nodded, “Yeah. I guess they were really close as kids, so I guess that helps.”

“Viv said that, when they were little, a lot of people thought they would be together at some point, but that she thought it was weird,” Bentley claimed.

Ah, so Bentley had been worried about it too. Miles fought to keep himself from grinning at just how secretly protective his baby brother had gotten to be. “Her grandma told me something similar,” Miles agreed. 

Dodging the obvious question of his thoughts on the matter, Royce turned to his brothers and smiled as he said, “They were talking about doing archery with us tomorrow. Maybe we can try to help him open up more while we’re hanging out.”

Miles shared a subtle look of disappointment with Bentley before turning to Royce with a smile, “That sounds like a great idea, RJ.”

“Yeah, because there’s nothing like getting someone to talk when you’ve got a weapon in your hands,” Bentley sarcastically claimed, earning himself an elbow from Miles.

Despite his best efforts, Bentley arose early that Tuesday morning, finding himself alone with a note on the table beside his bed that told him Royce and Vivien were going to spend the morning sitting on the porch and reading together. Unlike Royce and Vivien, he never liked rising early or using the morning to do anything productive. If he could have done so, he would have rolled over and slept in until at least eight or nine. However, he knew the wake-up call would come over the camp’s speakers sooner rather than later, so he pried himself from the comfort of his blankets and drowsily pushed himself to venture down the stairs.

True to the note they had left, Bentley found Vivien and Royce sitting on the porch swing together, a book open between them as Royce read aloud. As Bentley stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him, Royce paused his reading, smiling at his younger brother as he said, “Morning, Ben.”

“Mornin’,” Bentley mumbled, taking what space was left on the swing as Vivien slid closer to Royce.

As Bentley’s head fell onto Vivien’s shoulder and Vivien’s, in turn, dropped onto Royce’s, Royce chuckled and began reading once more, his soft, dulcet voice dragging Bentley closer to the brink of sleep. It wasn’t until Wouldn’t It Be Nice by The Beach Boys began playing over the speakers that Bentley realized he had fallen asleep. After attempting to pull Bentley away from his new sleeping spot, Vivien headed inside the lodge and dragged Riven outside, getting her skating partner to pull Bentley from the swing. Riven went a step further, however, picking the half-asleep boy up and settling him on his back before making the journey to the mess hall a while behind the others.

Bentley’s nonsensical mumblings about wanting to go back to bed did nothing to steer Riven back toward the lodge, instead making the older boy chuckle, “If I had the choice, I’d be right there with you, half-pint, but Vivien dragged us into this, so we’re going to have to see it through.”

Scoffing as he rested his chin on Riven’s shoulder, Bentley huffed, “It’s not like it matters. She’s gonna spend all day with Noah anyway.”

“You don’t like Noah?” Riven questioned quietly.

Bentley’s noncommittal noise did little to answer, but he soon decided, “He’s nice and all, but Miley and I think Royce is a little bothered by him having Viv all to himself.”

Riven hummed in understanding, giving the young blond a nod as he thought things over. Ever the observant one, Riven had quickly found Royce sitting a bit quieter at meal times when Noah was around. It didn’t take a genius to see that, whether Royce knew it or not, he was at least a little bothered by the boy’s presence. Choosing to steer away from the topic until he had looked more into it, Riven asked, “Is Miley what you call Miles?”

With a nod, Bentley muttered, “Me, Royce, and sometimes Viv.”

Letting out a confused chuckle, Riven wondered, “Why sometimes?”

“He gave her permission to call him that when she stayed with us over vacation,” Bentley claimed, “but she says she only calls him that when there’s an emergency or if she needs help.”

“Has she ever called him Miley?”

“Twice that I know of.”

“What happened?” Riven asked.

“The first time she called him that, Miles wasn’t too thrilled,” Bentley snickered. “She was doing it to tease him and he explained that was a nickname that only Royce and I could use.”

“But now she can use it?”

“Yeah,” Bentley nodded, “but she’s only done it once since then that I know about.”

Riven nodded, attempting to recall whether or not he had been there when Vivien had called Miles by his nickname. When he couldn’t, he softly asked, “Was that in your world or ours?”

Just as Bentley opened his mouth to answer, the realization of what Riven had said hit him like a brick wall. Instead, his mouth slowly closed and, as Riven peered back at him, he forced a small smile and asked, “You mean our state or yours?” 

“No,” Riven chuckled. “I know what I said.”

“What do you mean?” Bentley chuckled. “We don’t live in another world.”

Smiling knowingly as he stepped over a tree root that stuck up out of the ground, Riven smiled and shook his head, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?”

“Yeah,” Bentley sagged. Glancing at Riven’s hazel eyes, he asked, “When did you figure it out?” 

“A while ago,” Riven shrugged. “Don’t worry, though; I never told Vivien or Mick about it. I haven’t told anyone about it, actually.”

“I wasn’t overly worried about that, actually,” Bentley smiled.

Riven smirked, “They already know, don’t they?”

“They do,” Bentley confirmed. “But if you want to surprise them with the fact that you know, I won’t say anything to them.”

With a chuckle, Riven nodded, “I could have some fun with that.”

A brief round of laughter filled the air between the boys, before Bentley wondered, “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you figure it out?”

Sighing, Riven began, “I’d had an inkling that something wasn’t quite right when Pip seemed hesitant to show me pictures of her boyfriend. At first, I thought that maybe he was a criminal of some sort as Vivien had sort of dodged ever having a ‘teenage rebellion’ phase, but when I was eventually shown a picture of this kid who looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, I was more than a bit suspicious.”

“Understandable,” Bentley nodded. “Did you look him up or something?”

“I tried to, with no results,” Riven confirmed. “Deciding that I would be getting nowhere fast if I kept pressing on like that, I let it go.”

“So, what happened?” the blond pressed. “How did you figure it out?”

“It was an accident, really,” Riven explained with a short laugh. “I bought a set of old beach movies from this shop my dad frequents with the idea to see if there was any way I could use some lines from them at the beginning of our song recordings.”

“Instead, you found us.”

The auburn-haired male nodded, “Right on the title screen when I put the DVD into the player.”

Bentley snorted, it seemed as though Riven and Vivien were more alike than he had previously thought. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

With a shrug, Riven admitted, “I figured you guys would say something when you felt ready to.” 

“Viv wanted to,” Bentley claimed as Riven set him back on his feet, “but everyone else felt it was a good idea to keep it to ourselves until we figured out how to do it without freaking you out like we did Vivien.”

Chuckling Riven smirked as he asked, “I take it she didn’t take it too well?”

“She was pretty much shell-shocked at the time,” Bentley stated, “but it got better after she sat through the show and asked us about a million questions.”

“Typical,” Riven chortled.

As they made their way toward the front door of the mess hall, Bentley snatched Riven’s wrist and asked, “You’re not going to tell anybody, right?”

“Are you?” Bentley quickly shook his head, so, in response, Riven shook his. “Then, no. It’s our secret, half-pint.”

Glad to be able to feel somewhat closer to the older skater, Bentley made sure Riven sat beside him at the breakfast table, the blond eager to get to know him as something more than Vivien’s friend from practice. When Noah joined the table, Riven easily picked up on Bentley’s amiable unease, followed closely by how Royce’s energetic chatter about some book series he’d been enjoying in the library seemed to take a backseat to Vivien’s childhood friend’s tentative ramblings about swimming. 

Although Riven could tell Vivien wasn’t nearly as enthralled by the sandy brunet’s talk of a triathlon as she was in the book her boyfriend was enjoying, it didn’t appear as though Royce could see the minute way Vivien’s fingers drummed on the table or how her attention seemed to flicker like a dying flashlight. When Royce chimed in with something to add to the conversation, Vivien’s incessant tapping stilled and her focus was solely on the curly-haired boy to her right - something Riven was sure went unnoticed by most of the people at the table. Trying not to make his observations known, Riven simply continued eating, allowing the others at the table to carry on with their morning conversations as he sat in near-perfect silence.

As they all began to clear the tables and prepared to head out to their stations for the first half of the day, Riven followed Bentley to the trash with a pile he had gathered. While they worked on draining the excess maple syrup from a few plates, Riven locked gazes with the blond and offered, “If you need my help talking to Royce about this, let me know.”

Bentley glanced over Riven’s shoulder, presumably at his brother, before finding Riven’s eyes once again. “Are you sure?”

Riven nodded, “I can try to get something out of him tomorrow when we’re both holed up in the health center.”

“Thank you,” Bentley breathed.

Smiling at the younger blond, Riven said, “Anytime.”

According to the schedule, Riven’s first Wednesday at Camp Wanamaker would be spent in the most boring building on the grounds - the health center. Hardly anyone ever ended up in the health center during the training week. At the most, maybe three or four people would come in asking for something to help their headaches or period cramps. Overall, it was a fairly boring spot until the campers arrived.

Children always brought chaos to camp. Splinters, twisted ankles, and the occasional tumble from the rock wall or smack to the face from a volleyball were fairly common when the children arrived. Without them wreaking all sorts of havoc on the grounds, the health center was quiet. The tedious chores of sweeping floors and taking inventory were taken care of fairly quickly in the morning and again at night, but once the typical tasks were done, there was nothing else to do. As Riven stared across the room to where Royce was occupying his type with a book he’d borrowed from the library, he let out a sigh.

Royce peered over the top of his book, finding Riven’s head tipped back as the older boy stared up at the ceiling. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m bored as hell,” Riven groaned. “This is, by far, the worst place to be holed up all day.”

“Tell me about it,” Royce huffed. “Today is my birthday.”

“How come you didn’t ask for the day off to go hang out somewhere?” Riven asked. “Chief would’ve let you go.”

“He also would have had to let out my brothers, Viv, and anyone else who wanted to spend the day with me,” Royce deadpanned. With a shrug, he said, “It’s not worth it anyway.”

“It’s your birthday,” Riven stated. “You should be allowed to do fun shit instead of being holed up in here with me all day.”

“It doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would,” Royce shrugged. Choosing to set aside his book in favor of distracting his girlfriend’s closest friend, Royce stood and crossed the room to sit on Riven’s desk. “What would you rather be doing?”

“Literally anything else,” Riven chuckled humorlessly. “I would even take archery at this point and we both know how that would go.”

Royce fought the smirk that wanted so desperately to appear. The day before, he had spent time at the archery station with the majority of his cabin mates and had seen Riven both try and fail to land a single arrow on the target. Clearing his throat and smiling at the auburn-haired boy, he offered, “Do you want me to run to the cabin and grab a deck of cards? You could beat my ass in poker for a few hours.”

Taking in a deep, contemplative breath, Riven nodded, “That could be fun.” Royce smiled and pushed himself away from the desk, but before he could get far, Riven suggested, “Why don’t you check in your desk first? I think Erica and I spent a few hours building a house of cards last year and we might have left the deck in one of these desks.”

Royce nodded, rounding his desk and pulling open each drawer, searching them before pulling a tattered cardboard box out of the second to last. Shaking the box victoriously, Royce beamed, “Found them.”

“Alright,” Riven smirked. As Royce grabbed his chair and wheeled it over to Riven’s desk, Riven cleared a spot on his desk. “So,” he began, “do you want to play blackjack or regular poker?”

Royce shrugged, “I’ve never really played either one, so I don’t know. Dealer’s choice, I guess?”

“I’ll teach you,” Riven said with a smile. “Blackjack would probably be a bit easier to start with since it’s just math.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Riven nodded, taking a piece of paper and a pen from his desk and writing out the card numbers on the paper. “You just have to get as close as you can to twenty-one points without going over.”

“That sounds easy enough,” Royce smiled.

Riven hummed, “Everything is its normal number apart from the aces and the royalty cards. Royal cards are worth ten and aces can be either one or eleven points.”

Royce looked over the paper as Riven turned it toward him. “The suits don’t matter?” he asked. 

“Nope,” Riven declared with a smile as he pulled the cards from the box and began shuffling them. “Just try to get close to twenty-one. If you want another card to add to your deck, you say ‘hit,’ and when you think you’re close enough and don’t want to risk going over, you say ‘freeze.’ At least, that’s what my dad taught me.”

Royce nodded, watching Riven shuffle the cards a few times before asking, “Are you close with your dad?”

“Pretty close, yeah,” Riven claimed. “After my mom died a while back, he and I grew a lot closer. We’re all we have left, so we try to keep our relationship in good standing. Bentley said your mom died a while ago, too, right? Were you close with your dad after that?”

Royce took in a deep breath and sighed, “No. When our mom died, our dad went sort of off the rails - drinking and all that.”

“Is that why your brother didn’t take Chief up on his offer of a drink last night?” Riven asked as he placed two cards in front of Royce - one facing up and the other down.

“He offered Miles alcohol?”

Riven nodded, “He usually offers the older counselors a drink at some point just to sit around and get to know them better. It’s never anything hard - maybe a beer or something - but he takes one cabin at a time and offers them either something lightly alcoholic or a soda. I heard him talking with your brother when I was helping Bentley clean tables.”

“Do you know what he chose?” Royce questioned as he looked over his cards.

“A soda,” Riven stated. “Hit or freeze?”

Chuckling at the measly nine he had gotten, Royce said, “Hit, please.”

As Riven placed another card face-up on Royce’s side of the table, he continued with their previous conversation, “I think Chief gave him a can of cream soda and brought him back to the office to talk with him more.”

“I was wondering why he came back late,” Royce admitted as he recounted his cards. “I’m going to freeze there.”

“Good job,” Riven commented with a smile, taking a moment to look over his cards before adding another to his pile. “I’m frozen too. Let’s flip them and see who’s closer.”

As they both flipped their cards over, Riven smiled as Royce came out with a nineteen and his own hand managed to be just a point shy. “I won?” Royce wondered softly.

“You did,” Riven agreed, placing his hand of cards on top of Royce’s and pushing them to the side. As he flipped another set of cards onto the desk, Riven asked, “Do you think you’ll ever drink?”

Ryce was quick to shake his head, “I doubt it. After watching our dad spiral into drunken stupors more than once, I don’t think I want to touch the stuff.”

“Wise decision,” Riven applauded. “Vivien shares a similar opinion, but she’s had wine before.”

“She’s not old enough to drink,” Royce slowly mused, his head tilting to the side.

Riven smiled as he recalled, “It was an accident. We were screwing around in the winery and took some of the sample cups thinking they were punch for an upcoming wedding reception.”

Royce grinned, “What happened?”

“We got absolutely trashed,” Riven snickered. “Her mom was pissed while our dads were too busy laughing their asses off at us. I guess we both had guzzled about four cups of chocolate raspberry wine before they found us.”

“Holy shit!” Royce squawked.

“Oh yeah,” Riven laughed. “To make things even worse, Vivien started cussing at her parents - told her mom to fuck off and flipped her dad off.”

“How old was she?”

Riven glanced at his cards as he thought about his answer before replying, “I was almost ten, so she was maybe six or seven.”

“Wow,” Royce breathed. “I can’t imagine her doing anything like that, especially not so young.”

“Like I said, it wasn’t intentional,” Riven shrugged. “After that, she’s sworn off alcohol, but she does taste-test the season wines her family puts out every once in a while. It’s just not enough to get drunk on.”

Royce nodded and checked his cards, smiling as the image of a young, chaotic Vivien running around her family’s winery, drunk off her ass and flipping people off, filled his thoughts. “I guess she and I have more in common than I thought."

Spotting the opportunity to get his point across, Riven glanced over at Royce and nodded, “Add that to the list of reasons you shouldn’t be worried about her friendship with Noah.”

Freezing, Roycer slowly looked up, finding Riven’s calm stare aimed back at him. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Placing the deck of cards aside, Riven folded his hands together on the desk and leveled Royce with a small grin, “I can tell you’re bothered by how close they’ve been, whether you see it or not. Granted, you two have time together in the mornings and after dinner, but it bothers you, at least a little, that he’s been attached to her hip for the last few days.”

“I trust Vivien,” Royce stated firmly. 

“And I’m glad you do,” Riven said placatingly, “but I’m not questioning how much you trust her. I just want you to know that it’s understandable if you’re uncomfortable with another boy, around your age, hanging around your girl all day, every day.”

“She and Noah are just friends and I know it wouldn’t go further than that,” Royce said, but to Riven, it almost sounded as though he was trying to convince himself of that. “Besides, he’s supposed to be shadowing her until the campers begin to show up. Even if the situation did bother me, which it doesn’t, I wouldn't be able to do anything about it.”

“You could, actually,” Riven claimed. When Royce’s curiosity became evident, Riven smiled and said, “I’ve known Noah as long as Vivien has; if it makes things better for you, I can always swap out with her.”

Before answering, Royce actually appeared to think on the idea, his eyes flitting around before finally stilling. With a shake of his head, Royce replied, “It’s only three more days.”

“Four,” Riven corrected. “The campers don’t come until Monday, so you have until Sunday night.”

“Still,” Royce sighed, “I can handle that. After that, things will go back to normal, and I can pretend this never happened.”

Riven examined Royce’s face and, despite having the intense urge to shake the boy until he relented, he couldn’t find any reason to. Royce’s steadfast expression gave Riven little wiggle room, but as he knew he had, at the very least, offered Royce an out if he wanted it, Riven chose to wave his white flag of defeat and picked up the deck of cards once more. “Alright,” he said, “but just remember what I said. I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Royce breathed, allowing a small smile to tug at his lips. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Riven nodded. Adjusting his grip on the cards, Riven smiled as he asked, “Now, hit or freeze?”

It wasn’t often that Royce got the chance to spend one-on-one time with Mick. Most days, they were too busy with their individual interests and schedules, but that Thursday was something different. When Royce entered the downstairs section of the Lakeside Lodge, he found he wasn’t the only one awake. Mick had pushed the coffee table out of the way before putting her headphones on and beginning her usual morning exercises, but when she took notice of the young brunet, she smiled and invited him to join her. Shrugging, Royce set his book and cell phone aside before joining the woman. 

They talked for a while about the different stretches Mick did every day, but there wasn’t much to their conversation apart from that. Breakfast came and went as uneventfully as it always did, but as Royce joined back up with Mick on the steps outside the mess hall, he found himself feeling almost excited to spend the day lifeguarding with her. Jade and Erica joined them at the pool after a while, having taken the time to go back to their cabin to put on clothing that would be more forgiving in the heat of the snack stand. While Erica and Jade took their spots in the little shack near the pool entrance, Mick and Royce perched themselves on one of the lifeguard chairs. There wasn’t much to do as most everyone had to work in other positions, but as the day grew hotter and the heat became more noticeable, a select few workers entered the pool to cool off from the heat of the sun.

Royce was grateful for the overhead umbrella they had over the chair to keep themselves cool from the heat, but as Mick climbed down from their perch and grabbed a pair of popsicles to snack on, he realized just how hot it had gotten. “Thanks again, Mick,” he said before sucking down some of the extra juice from the plastic tube.

“Of course,” she replied with a smile. “I wasn’t sure if it was you or Viv who preferred the blue raspberry ones.”

“We both like it,” Royce shrugged. “She just prefers watermelon.”

As Mick nodded, she sighed thoughtfully, “I think I’m the only one in the entire cabin who likes the banana-flavored ones.”

“Is that what the yellow ones taste like?” Royce questioned. When Mick nodded, Royce laughed, “I thought they were lemon!”

Mick made a face of disgust and shook her head, “Ew, no. Lemon-scented anything makes me think of cleaning supplies; that’s why I picked the box with the banana-flavored pops.”

“Huh,” Royce chuckled. “Learn something new every day, I guess.”

“I guess so.”

The pair sat in near-silence as the few people in the pool took turns blasting each other with sprays of water. Taking another bite of his popsicle, Royce allowed his thoughts to fill his head as he stared off into space. After the conversation he’d had with Riven the day before, he had continuously found himself deep in thought on the topic of Noah and his relationship with Vivien. While Royce was confident in his trust of Vivien and knew he had nothing to worry about on her end of things, he couldn’t exactly say that he had the same trust in Noah. He hadn’t known the other boy for a full week yet and his apprehensiveness with the boy’s presence was becoming more and more obvious. 

Slowly taking in a deep breath, Royce pulled his attention back to the present and looked over at the people swimming about in the crystalline water before him before turning his gaze toward Mick. As her neighbor, Mick was most likely to have known Vivien the longest. Maybe she would have some sort of insider knowledge on the situation. As he tried to think of a way to broach the situation, Royce heard a laugh that drew his attention away from the older girl. Finding Vivien laughing as she walked with Noah toward their station at the tennis court, Royce allowed himself to smile. Maybe he had no reason to worry about any of it. Maybe he was just overreacting. They were old friends, after all. 

Mick seemed to have noticed the trio as she let out a soft laugh, “It’s so nice to see them together again.”

Shifting his gaze from the pair to the brunette beside him, Royce asked, “Who? Viv and Noah?”

Mick nodded as she turned to Royce with a smile, “Yeah. They were so close when they were little.”

“Mick said they went to school together,” Royce acknowledged.

“They did everything together,” Mick agreed. “No matter what they were doing or where they were, they were always together.”

Royce hummed, “So they were like me and Bentley when we first came to town?”

“In a way,” Mick shrugged. “You could never find one of them without the other.”

With a nod, Royce glanced back toward the pair, just barely catching Vivien throwing a tennis ball across the court at Noah, hitting him in the shoulder with a cackle of victory. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said between the pair, it was obvious that they were getting along as they always had. Noah picked up the ball and hurled it back across the net between himself and Vivien, cursing as Vivien dodged his throw and instead chucked another ball at him. Smirking at his girlfriend’s determination to pelt her friend with fuzzy, green balls, Royce chuckled, “They seem to be getting along well.”

“I’m not surprised,” Mick smiled. “The two of them were so close before that I bet it feels like no time has passed to them.” With a short, thoughtful chuckle as Vivien found a bag of tennis balls to assault her friend with, Mick claimed, “You know, a lot of people thought the two of them would end up together someday.”

The news had Royce’s attention at once. The thought brought an uncomfortable sinking feeling to his stomach and he was sure that, if he hadn’t been sitting, he would have fallen to the cement surrounding the pool. Nobody had told him this. How many people knew? Did Vivien and Noah feel that way as well at some point? As he watched the two on the tennis court laugh and screech insults at each other, Royce could see his girlfriend’s beaming smile and a tense strain of impending doom spread through his chest as Noah ducked under Vivien’s attack and brought his arms around her knees, hauling her over his shoulder while she squeaked at the sudden height difference.

“Really?” Royce wondered softly as he watched Vivien drop the balls she had collected in favor of thumping a fist against Noah’s back, begging to be let down.

Mick hummed, “Back then, I think everyone thought they would be a cute couple, but I can’t see it now.”

Allowing his gaze to fall on the brunette beside him, Royce asked, “You can’t.”

“I doubt anyone can,” she claimed as she turned toward him. “After all the time they’ve spent apart, they’re just getting accustomed to being around each other again. I think them spending so much time together now is just giving them a chance to get to know each other all over again.”

Royce nodded slowly, “Things have changed a lot since they last saw each other.”

“They have, yeah.” Mick glanced back at the pair as Vivien whacked Noah on the shoulder with her tennis racket. With a snort, she said, “One thing remains a constant, though.” When Royce’s eyebrow raised in a silent question, Mick said, “Vivien has no interest in him as anything more than her friend.”

“How can you tell?” he asked.

“Well, for one, it’s obvious how much she adores you,” Mick stated with a smile. “I’ve never seen her as happy as I have since she’s been with you. Two…” Mick shook her head, “I don’t think she’s ever seen him as anything more than a friend. The two used to beat each other up and harass each other on a daily basis, which, by the look of things, I don’t think has changed.”

“She’s like that with me sometimes,” Royce admitted.

“It’s different,” Mick stated. “With you, she’s gentle and, when she does shove you around, it’s playful and soft. With Noah, it’s like an actual fight; they know each other’s limits and dance around them with ease. To him, she’s one of the guys and he knows she can hold her own. To her, he’s another Riven - a sibling-like figure she can push around without worrying about getting in trouble for it.”

Once Royce felt as though he had absorbed the concept, he softly asked, “Is that why you think they wouldn’t make a good couple anymore?”

“That’s one of many reasons,” Mick chuckled with a nod, “but yeah, that’s the jist of it.”

Royce hummed and brought his melting popsicle to his lips before tipping it up and draining some of the juice from it. He was grateful it had been Mick that explained it to him. Most of the time, she made things make sense more than anyone else could. She had a way of explaining things that could make even the most tense person relax. He took in a deep breath and looked over the swimmers making laps in the pool before glancing over at Vivien and her friend. Royce smiled as he watched the two begin an easy-going match, sending the ball across the net - or attempting to, at the very least. Maybe Mick was right - he had nothing to worry about.

Friday, as it so happened, was campfire day at Camp Wanamaker and, as most of the campers were, Butchy was busy finding logs to burn. Though the camp had a storage area on the side of the main office filled with logs to burn, Vivien’s grandparents had given everyone the task of finding some wood to burn on their own. Some had ventured toward the lake in search of driftwood or fallen logs on the tree line, but Butchy had taken it upon himself to search the area around the amphitheatre as hardly anyone had headed there. With a collection of sticks and kindling, Butchy took in a deep breath and headed toward the fire pit that had yet to be started. Just as he set his pile down beside the circle of rocks, Royce came out of the tree line on the other side, pushing his way past some shrubbery with a grin and dropping off some wood to burn.

“Hey, gattino,” Butchy greeted, waving the younger boy toward him. “There are some good size logs where I was looking. Do you want to help me get some?” 

“Sure,” Royce smiled.

Butchy smiled in return, bringing an arm around Royce as they headed back toward the trees. The pair talked as they walked through the woods, discussing everything from what they’d had for breakfast to some movie Royce was letting Vivien drag him to when they got the chance to leave camp for a few hours. As he loaded Royce’s arms with firewood, Butchy chuckled, “I don’t know what happened between you and Vivien, but I’m glad you two resolved whatever it was.”

“What do you mean?” Royce questioned as he followed Butchy to where a fallen tree blanketed the ground.

Butchy turned back to Royce and shrugged, “It just seemed as though the two of you were, I don’t know… a bit off the past few days. I just figured you two had sorted things out and that’s why it feels like you both are back to your normal selves.”

“We weren’t fighting or anything,” Royce stated. As Butchy laid a few small branches on the ever-growing pile, he said, “I just needed time to process her friendship with Noah, I guess. They were really close as kids and were spending a lot of time together the last few days, but I talked it over with a few people and I feel a lot better about it now.”

Butchy nodded, giving Royce a small grin as he recalled, “You know, Mickie and I had a similar issue a while back.”

Royce’s eyebrow raised as he asked, “You did?” When Butchy nodded in confirmation, Royce breathed, “Wow. I didn’t think that was possible for the two of you.”

“It’s possible for anyone,” Butchy stated. “Back then, our relationship was pretty secretive to anyone in her world and, when one of her closest friends came over for a visit, I was pretty tense. His name was Hudson and he would sit closer to her than he did to anyone else, they would talk about things I had no clue about and, when I tried to do things with them, it felt as though I wasn’t wanted.”

Pausing, Royce realized he had been in the exact same position. “That’s what happened to me with Noah,” he claimed. Shaking his head, he turned to Butchy and asked, “What happened?”

“Obviously, we were fine,” Butchy chuckled. “I found out they thought of each other as siblings. They had grown up together as their parents were close friends and had grown up treating each other as family. Just like with your situation with Noah, I found that I had nothing to worry about.”

Royce almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t imagine Butchy having much of anything to worry about; he always seemed so sure of himself and, as far as appearances went, he could have found anyone to be with if things with Mick went to the wayside. However, the knowledge that even someone like Butchy had gone through something similar in his love life and still came out on top, was reassuring. Watching Butchy pile his arms full of branches and fallen tree limbs, Royce smiled, “Thank you, Butchy.”

“You’re welcome, gattino,” Butchy grinned, gently nudging the boy toward the amphitheatre. As they began walking, he added, “You had nothing to worry about in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” Royce asked as he turned to look back at Butchy.

Instead of answering directly, Butchy asked, “You know how they say the eyes are the windows to the soul?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, take a good look at how Vivien looks at you,” Butchy said with a knowing smile. “She loves you with all of her heart and it’s obvious.”

The idea had Royce smiling despite himself. He would just have to pay more attention to her eyes when he saw her next. Flicking his attention back to Butchy, he asked, “Are you sure?”

Butchy chuckled, shifting the wood in his grasp to one arm as he reached up to pat Royce on the shoulder, “I, of all people, would know. The two of you have a rare kind of love, bud. Don’t waste your time worrying about something that will only keep you from seeing what’s right in front of you.”

As Butchy gave Royce one last reassuring pat on the shoulder and continued on toward where they would soon be lighting the fire, Royce stood in place, grinning like an idiot to himself as he registered all that Butchy had told him. It was reassuring, to say the least. Pleased with the hopeful statements Butchy had given him, Royce turned to the camp and continued trekking through the woods, glad to be given more reassurance that he was on the right track. Once everyone returned from their searches for kindling, Royce took his seat on one of the wooden benches closest to the fire pit and allowed his smile to only broaden as Vivien sat beside him, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder.

The weekend, according to Royce’s schedule, were the days to dread most. The schedule for the first week had been easy enough to follow, but Royce had been silently dreading the weekend schedule he had been given. Whoever decided to pair him with Carrie in the playhouse on Saturday and in the kitchen on Sunday, had to have had it out for him. Although he had promised Miles he would at least try to be more civil with the blonde, he wasn’t sure that entailed him listening to Carrie sing show tunes all day.

After breakfast, they had made their way to the playhouse, Royce fighting the urge to tell the blonde to just be quiet as she sang some lyrics from a show she, Mick, and Vivien had made them start watching in the evenings. By the time they had finally gotten to their designated building for the day, they had met up with the other playhouse workers and Royce was subjected to hearing them blather on and on about which show they were hoping the camp would put together over the summer. 

While Royce certainly cared about theatre - he had to with Vivien around - he wasn't very fond of the idea of being on stage in front of everyone and their families. He was more than willing to help out if they needed help painting sets or writing scripts, but having to memorize lines to be on stage would absolutely be outside of his comfort zone. When he made this fact known to the others, only one other person seemed to agree with him and, to Royce’s dismay, the ginger girl had nobody from her cabin with her to keep her participating and ultimately sat on the edge of the stage, more occupied with her cell phone than anything else.

After sending a few members of the group to the art barn for paints and other supplies, the group sat along the edge of the stage waiting for Vivien’s grandmother, Dawn, to arrive. They didn’t have to wait long as the doors to the barn were pushed open and Dawn took a moment to flip the doors’ respective stoppers down to keep them open. Making her way to the stage, Dawn smiled as she scanned over those present, “Well, it appears we have a full cast of players ready to help with stage prep today.”

One boy with blond-tipped hair hurried to offer Dawn a hand as she headed for the stairs on the side of the stage, “Ten in total, Nonna.”

“More than enough for today,” she commented as she stepped further onto the stage. As the workers moved into a line across the stage, Dawn examined them all briefly before smiling, “As I’m sure some of you have heard through the grapevine, we’re narrowing down our list of performances for the end-of-summer showcase.”

Murmurs of excitement passed over the group before Carrie raised a hand and asked, “Are we getting rid of more today?”

“Better than that,” Dawn said. “We’re narrowing it down to the final option.”

The boy with the blond-tipped hair - Royce was sure his name was one of those weird ones that his parents probably thought was different and creative, but was really just ridiculous - ran for the side of the stage, dragging back a whiteboard with five pieces of paper still taped to it. Each paper had a different show’s title and logo on it, but Royce couldn’t understand the hype as everyone else got excited about the listings. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, he knew, was one of Shakespeare’s plays, but he couldn’t see many children sitting still long enough to enjoy it. Legally Blonde and Hairspray had made it to the finals, but, if he was going to be completely honest, Royce wasn’t surprised; the shows were energetic and fun - something they could captivate any audience with. Clue had made it into the mix and, although it wasn’t a musical, it was certainly a fun addition. The last show on the whiteboard was a show called Arsenic and Old Lace, but Royce wasn’t sure exactly what that show entailed.

Though Royce could claim he was intrigued, it appeared as though he wasn’t nearly as excited as some of the others present as Dawn reached up and hovered a hand over the different names. Anytime she came close to stopping over a certain one, there would be exclamations of shock or pleas for her to take something else from the board. Then, her first choice came like ripping off a bandage - quick and painless - and A Midsummer Night’s Dream was torn away, leaving a small piece of paper stuck to the tape that refused to peel away from the whiteboard. One by one, the names were pulled until only Clue and Hairspray remained.

As though she was on the edge of her seat, Carrie gripped the only thing close enough to her that wouldn’t fall over - Royce’s arm. The blonde’s claws dug into Royce’s arm unknowingly, but as Royce turned to glare at her and tell her to remove herself before he did, he saw the genuine excitement glimmering in her eyes and chose to hold off on his remarks, allowing her to use his arm as an emery board as Dawn reached for the last paper. Royce watched with mild anticipation as the older woman held both papers in her hands, but as she pulled both from the board, holding one above her head in victory, even Royce felt a surge of elation. Hairspray would have been his pick of the bunch anyway.

After giving a brief speech about the musical and how they had chosen it to allow some of the campers to perform as well, Dawn began dismissing them to different areas. “Marcus, Thalia, you two are on props. There is a large bin in the storage room that should have some of what you need. We’ll get donations for the rest.”

The redhead who had been on her phone throughout most of her time in the playhouse followed a short boy to the side of the stage, the two of them disappearing behind a curtain. The boy who stood beside Dawn said, “Kiran, Summer, you’re going to be helping us with the costumes. We’ve started on a few, but we need more help.”

Dawn smiled as a paid stepped from the crowd and moved toward the curtains to watch everyone else get sorted out. Another pair was assigned to see how many chairs they could fill the audience with and, before Royce knew it, the older woman was calling his name. “Royce and Carrie, you two are going to be working on painting set pieces with me.”

Royce’s brain stalled. Was she serious? Was she really telling him to spend the rest of his day with her and Carrie? Did Vivien not tell her about how strained his relationship with Carrie was? Maybe she had and the woman simply didn't care. No, Dawn seemed too nice to do something like that. Maybe Vivien put her up to it! That sounded like a more likely cause. Vivien was forever trying to get the two of them to work past things. He wouldn’t put it past Vivien to ask her grandmother for help moving things along.

Being caught up in his thoughts, Royce missed the older woman’s dismissal of another pair and only realized he was being left behind when Carrie nudged him and told him to follow them. Containers of paint and a few wooden boards were brought outside, and the trio sat around a picnic table to work on their projects. As they worked, Carrie and Dawn began talking about their enjoyment of musicals and theatre in general while Royce got to work on using an image from Dawn’s phone to help him paint a copy of the musical’s hairspray can onto a board. After a while of radio silence on the boy’s part, Dawn reached over the table and dotted the back of his hand with a splotch of yellow paint.

Royce glanced down at his hand before looking across the table at the woman with widened eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say something?” he asked.

Dawn smirked, “No, sweetheart. You’ve just been awfully quiet. Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Royce claimed, perhaps just a bit too eagerly.

“Are you sure?” Carrie tried.

“Yeah,” Royce said. Although Carrie looked ready to press further, she simply took in a deep breath and sighed as she went on with her work, allowing Royce to continue on with his work. Dawn hummed thoughtfully, but left the subject alone as she continued painting. After a while, Royce couldn’t take the silence anymore and glanced over at the woman before asking, “Do we all have to participate in the showcase performance?”

Glad to have finally caught on to the root of the issue, Dawn set a soft smile on her face and nodded, “In some way or another, yes.”

“Do we all have to be on stage at some point?” Royce questioned. “I don’t like being on stage like that.”

Before Dawn could answer, Carrie smiled as she mused, “Miles isn’t a fan of it much either, but he’s gotten out of his shell at least a little since I’ve been with him.”

“Not like you gave him much of a choice,” Royce muttered under his breath.

Ignoring the snide comment directed toward the blonde, Dawn answered Royce’s previous question, “Even the people who worked on the set design go on the stage at some point.”

After a tentative pause, Royce seemingly resigned to his fate as he nodded and breathed, “Okay.”

As Royce rigidly returned to his painting, Dawn smiled gently and said, “You know, even my husband despises being on that stage sometimes.”

“Really?” Royce questioned.

Carrie nodded, “I would have thought he would be used to it after running the camp for so long.”

“Well, I’m sure part of his reasoning is that he knows I’ve concocted some sort of end-of-year prank for him,” Dawn claimed with a shrug, “but I know he detests being on stage anyway. I just don’t see how.”

“I can,” Royce scoffed. “Up there, you’ve got blazingly hot lights shining in your face, you have to memorize a bunch of songs and dances and know when to come in for them, and we can’t forget the fact that there are at least a zillion eyes on you, judging you at all times.”

Dawn nodded thoughtfully before smiling, “But this stage is different.”

“What do you mean?” Royce asked.

“This isn’t Broadway,” Dawn said with a reassuring smile. “Up there, there is no judgment if someone forgets what to say or do. I mean, hell, if you want a good example of that, go ask Chief to show you last year’s performance of The Play That Goes Wrong. That entire show was a trainwreck, but everyone loved it.”

Royce allowed the woman’s comments to sink in before he asked, “Nobody cares if you screw up?” When Dawn shook her head, Royce tacked on, “I thought you have to be perfect on stage.”

“Nobody is perfect,” Carrie said before Dawn could. “Everyone messes up at some point or another. On the stage, we’re merely players putting on a show. As long as you have fun and enjoy yourself on the stage, nobody will care how well things go as they’ll be more focused on your energy and acting.”

Dawn nodded in agreement, “The only thing we ask of everyone is that they try to have fun no matter what they do or don’t do on stage.”

“And, if it makes it any better,” Carrie began, “you’ll have everyone you love by your side - and me, of course - and we’ll all be rooting for you no matter what you do.”

For a fleeting moment, Royce had the instinct to correct the blonde on her statement, adding her to the group that he cared about, yet he bit his tongue, holding back the instinctual comment as he gave a sharp nod. The thought of the blonde being on the list of people he cared about had never occurred to Royce before - at least, not that he knew of - and the instinct to speak his mind on the topic had certainly never come around before, so Royce had no clue where it had come from. Brushing it off as something to do with Miles and Vivien’s incessant pleas for him to mend whatever imaginary bond they saw between himself and Carrie, Royce took in a deep breath and thanked both women with a smile before returning to his painting, not once bothering to wipe the yellow paint from the back of his hand.

Normal Sundays in the Murphy household were spent on the couch, watching cartoons while they ate a late breakfast. However, that rainy Sunday morning felt anything but typical as Royce rose early and made his way to the mess hall to begin working on the breakfast he and Carrie would be serving to the line of hungry counselors and other staff arriving within the hour. Carrie arrived not long after, pulling her hair into a bun of sorts before taking an apron from the hooks on the wall and joining Royce as he pulled a variety of food from the refrigerator. 

“What are we making this morning?” she asked as Royce placed a gallon of milk on a nearby metal counter.

Royce turned toward Carrie before nodding to the whiteboard beside the fridge, “It’s on the calendar. The list of everything we need is on the paper taped to the wall next to it.”

After thanking Royce, Carrie made her way to where the listing was. Breakfast at camp was simple more often than not. There was always a selection of cold foods left out for the residents to make for themselves - cereal, microwavable oatmeal, yogurts, an assortment of berries, fruit salad, and bread for toast being left on a counter off to the side of where the rest of the food was kept in heated containers. It seemed as though the options for the day were going to be simple staples as everyone would probably end up scarfing down their food in favor of getting things ready before the campers were destined to arrive the next day. According to the list, eggs were to be either scrambled or placed in breakfast sandwiches, a minimum of fifty pancakes were to be made, and a smaller portion of breakfast tacos were to be made up, wrapped, and pinned with toothpicks before the arrival of the first counselors.

“I didn’t realize just how much food was being eaten every day,” Carrie claimed. 

“Yeah, well, now that you realize it,” Royce began as he began cracking eggs into a metal bowl, “do you think you could get started on making something? I can handle the scrambled eggs for the tacos and everything if you want to start on something else.”

Carrie nodded wordlessly, taking an extra bowl from the set Royce had pulled from the cupboards and looking over the supplies before picking up a box of pancake mix. “‘Just add water’ pancakes? How is that supposed to make it taste good?”

Looking up from the eggs he had been whisking, Royce gave Carrie a disbelieving stare, “You weren’t complaining when you ate them yesterday.”

“Yesterday, they had blueberries in them,” Carrie retorted.

“Then add blueberries or chocolate chips or whatever you want,” Royce shrugged, turning back to his eggs as he brought them over to the griddle to cook them. “Just don’t go overboard; it’s supposed to be quick and easy so that we have it done by the time everyone gets here.”

Carrie nodded to herself as Royce turned his back on her, grabbing a measuring cup from the counter and tearing the bag of pancake mix open. Dumping the bag into the bowl, Carrie grabbed another and crossed over to the sink, pouring cup after cup of water into the bowl until she had enough to mix into the pancake powder. Carrying the bowl over to the counter, Carrie took her time pouring the water into the powder-filled bowl, but just as she was grabbing a whisk to mix everything with, the kitchen door swung open, and a head of golden brown hair entered the room. 

Royce turned to see who had come to visit them, yet quickly got back to work as he spotted Noah’s usual smirk. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Isn’t this usual when you go out to swim?”

“Normally, yeah,” Noah agreed, observing Royce’s handiwork as he entered the room, “but Viv asked me to come and check on you guys while she’s at a short meeting with her grandparents this morning. She said you guys don’t always get along.”

“We don’t,” Carrie agreed as she stepped up to the griddle next to Royce’s and began pouring out the first of many pancakes, “but we know when to set that aside for the greater good.”

“Well, that’s good,” Noah chuckled. “I was worried I would have to start breaking up a fight or something.”

“Nope,” Royce said, trying desperately to focus on not scorching the eggs before him.

Noah hummed, watching the pair work in silence for a while, “You know, she always talks about you guys when we’re together.”

“She does?” Royce asked.

“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “She’s got some weird-ass nicknames for all of you, though. I mean, who calls someone named Bentley, Beemer? It’s not even the nickname for the Bentley car company. It’s for BMW.”

Taking in a slow breath, Royce fought to keep himself calm as he clenched his teeth and replied, “At the time, she couldn’t remember which company it was, but Bentley liked it, so we went with it.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Noah sighed. Giving a chuckle, he continued, “I think some of her nicknames are funny, though.”

Carrie leaned forward so she could see Noah as she smiled patiently and claimed, “I do too, but they’re individually hers, and she’s almost always sincere when she uses them.”

Royce peered over at Carrie, finding the blonde’s smile to be welcoming despite her eyes portraying her desire to get Noah out of the kitchen so that they could work in peace. As Royce turned back to his eggs, he found himself smiling at the thought of Carrie kicking Noah out through the swinging doors using some moves she’d had to learn for the spy show she was in recently. Shaking the thought from his head, he chuckled, “Even when Viv calls Riven an ass, she’s got some kind of fondness to it.”

“Yeah, I heard that the other day,” Noah snorted. After a moment, he claimed, “I’ve heard most of her nicknames when we’re with other people, but I have a few I can’t see the reasoning for.”

“Like what?” Carrie asked.

Noah didn’t hesitate as he asked, “Why does she call your older brother ‘Miley’?”

“What?” Royce pressed, pausing in his scrambling of the eggs.

“Just yesterday, while we were hanging out with him on the basketball court, she called him Miley and started teasing him about losing the ball to her,” Noah recalled. “I thought it was kind of stupid. I mean, who calls a boy by a girl’s name?”

Royce could feel the urge to tackle the teenager through the swinging doors rising with every breath he took, but before he had the chance to verbally demolish Noah for his lack of tact regarding Miles’ nickname, Carrie spoke up, “Actually, it’s a family nickname. His brothers have called him that since they were little and, naturally, Vivien picked up on it after a while.”

Either Noah didn’t pick up on the glare from Royce that would have driven him six feet under or he simply ignored it as he smiled and claimed, “That makes sense.” After a while of silence, he asked, “Is there anything you guys need help with?”

“No,” Royce stated firmly, ready to get the older boy out of the room before he did something that would result in him ending up behind bars.

Carrie plastered a smile on her face as she leaned forward and said, “If you want, you could restock the staple foods in the mess hall. Other than that, we’re all set.”

Noah nodded, giving a final departing statement before exiting the kitchen to grab things from the pantry to put out for the morning meal. As soon as he was sure that Noah was gone, Royce let out a sigh and let his head hang for a moment as he breathed in a breath of relief. Wanting to help the brunet by her side although she was unsure of how he would react to it, Carrie placed a hand on his back and rubbed a small circle between his shoulder blades before returning to the pancakes before her, adding some to the plates she had set aside. Once Royce had calmed himself a bit, he hurriedly scooped the eggs he’s been cooking into a heated plate that would keep them warm until the rest of the workers arrived.

As silence fell over the room, Carrie found herself glancing at the younger boy more often to check up on him, but as they finished their respective foods and worked on slicing open packages of sausage and bacon, Carrie asked, “I do have to ask, why do you call Miles that?”

Royce looked up at the blonde, finding himself giving her a small smile as he replied, “It was something our mom called him. If I remember correctly, it started as ‘Smiley Miley’ before fading into just Miley. Most of the time, Bentley and I call him that in order to either get out of trouble or let him know we’re hurting without outright saying it. Sometimes, though, it’s just to feel closer to our mom.”

Carrie smiled thoughtfully, distantly wondering what their mom was like. Maybe, in some not-so-distant world, she had already met the woman the Murphy boys loved so much. Maybe Miles had introduced them early in their relationship and the two got along like mother and daughter. Carrie wondered just how many things would be different in a world where the brothers never lost their mother. Shaking the thought from her head, Carrie turned to Royce and asked, “Now he lets Vivien call him that too, huh?”

Royce nodded as a beaming smile flooded his face, “She doesn’t do it often at all, but I guess she does it more to tease him than anything. He doesn’t seem to mind it, though, as it’s only happened a few times.”

Carrie glanced toward the door as she heard something being torn open on the other side. Noah was still working on filling the tray of other foods, it seemed. Turning back to Royce, she asked, “It bothers you when someone from outside of your family calls him that, though, doesn’t it?”

“Usually, yeah,” Royce confirmed. “Viv is an exception since she’s known him for a while.”

“Of course,” Carrie chuckled. “It only makes sense that, since he sees her as his family just as much as you and Bentley are, he would allow her to call him such a personal nickname.”

Almost surprised with the blonde’s easy acceptance of his statement, Royce grinned and nodded as he continued cutting open bacon pouches and setting them on a plate to bring to the griddle. After the meat was fully cooked and ready to go, the two settled into a rhythm as they worked on making breakfast for everyone. Once Royce was done filling a tortilla with eggs and a few strips of bacon, Carrie would add sausage and sprinkled cheese before wrapping them up and setting them aside.

As she took another wrap from Royce, Carrie said, “I know it probably won’t mean much to you, but I’m proud of you for not letting things with Noah get to you.”

Royce snickered, “It took everything in me not to jump across the counter; somehow, I don’t think I handled that all too well.”

Carrie shook her head with a smile, “I meant with him spending so much time with Vivien these last few days. It feels like he’s been up her ass this last week, and you’ve handled it with ease and grace.”

“I did?” Royce questioned. 

“Regardless of whether or not you felt like you were, I think you were,” Carrie stated. “Most boys, especially in their teens and early twenties, are insecure in their relationships and get jealous easily, but you seemed so confident in your relationship with Viv that I never once thought I would have to get Miles to step in.”

As Royce slid two strips of bacon into the tortilla and handed it to Carrie, he sighed, “At first, I was only acting like I was alright with it, but after talking with Riven, Mick, and Butchy about things, I think I felt better about it all.

“Regardless of whether or not you were merely acting,” Carrie began, placing a hand on Royce’s arm with a smile, “I know it wasn’t easy, and I congratulate you for being so mature. It was very impressive.”

Finding nothing but sincerity in the blonde’s oceanic eyes, Royce allowed himself to smile as he muttered, “Thanks, Carrie.”

The two continued on with their task only a few minutes more, their hands stilling as the doors to the kitchen swung open and an out-of-breath Vivien entered, rambling about the meeting she’d been in as she threw an apron on. However, as she turned around and saw Carrie and Royce working together in a mostly-clean kitchen, no angrily thrown pans wedged in the walls or knives held to the other’s throat, the brunette stalled, her brain short-circuiting at the scene before her. 

Looking around as though she was anticipating someone to jump out of a cabinet with a camera, telling her she was being pranked, Vivien asked, “Did I just enter the Twilight Zone or something?” Royce watched his girlfriend for a moment before turning to Carrie with an amused grin. As the pair locked eyes, they burst into laughter, only furthering Vivien’s confusion about the situation. With wide eyes, Vivien watched the two laugh as though her reaction had been totally out of pocket and softly muttered to herself, “Yeah, I definitely entered the Twilight Zone.”

[petra-creat0r]

Annual Update 2024

Alright everyone! New year, new updates for all my stuff!

Starting with ...

AtDFF and AYC

(The new signatures for my main art, AtDFF, and AYC)

As some, and by that I mean most of you have probably noticed, I rebooted AtDFF... again. I technically started a revamp all the way back in 2020 where I was redrawing the older updates to better match the current style and reformat the asks and text for better readability, but that didn't impede on the main updates (well, besides putting more onto mine and the rest of the team's work load.)

The Reboot

This past year though, I made the decision to completely reboot the comic for a few reasons. One was an attempt to renew my motivation, another was wanting to rework some of the lore, yet another was being inspired by @askfallenroyalty to remake the comic and post to ComicFury, but I think the main factor was... I wasn't all that happy with it. I think I kept comparing it to other comics, especially Fallen Royalty, which is my own issue, please don't go blaming anyone else. I knew I could do better, especially after over 5 years working on this, but now looking back, part of me feels that, rebooting it again is, in a way, diminishing those years. Even with the 2020 revamp, prior to it you could go through the updates and really look at how my art has progressed, and though true you can still scroll and find the old updates, it's just... not quite the same. Same can be said for the 2023 reboot.

Does that mean I'm going back on the reboot? No. I already have the next updates planned (I just haven't had a chance to work on them that often) and I really like the new lore of the world that I've come up with. I just think this will be the last time I ever reboot the comic. Whatever happens, happens, and I need to just roll with it. Even if what happens is our little roadtrip getting derailed into a corn field again, lol.

Comic Fury and New Comic?

With that said, what do I have in store for the new reboots of AtDFF and AYC? (yes AYC got rebooted too, I just haven't posted the first update like I did with AtDFF) Well, I mentioned a Comic Fury, which surprise. Both AtDFF and AYC have their own Comic Fury pages now! Don't worry, I still plan on posting to Tumblr as well, but now you can also find them on Comic Fury. Along with another comic I'm planning to do (eventually), Undertale-ish: The Comic. Ever wonder what Ish Frisk's journey through the Underground was like? Want to see what happened in most (not all) of their 800 runs? Want to see this child grapple with their self insecurities, perfectionism, and the responsibility of having full control over time and an entire civilization's lives in the palm of their hand? Want to see Chara as a ghost? Well that's what you'll get with Undertale-ish: The Comic! Coming I don't know since I such at scheduling and time management for these things!

Schedule

Speaking of scheduling! When are any of these comics coming out? Well... I just said I suck with schedules, and I can't promise really... anything when it comes to release but like... I know I for sure would like to release things... regularly? Even with the start of the reboot, I started it in April, and that stuff extended until at least August. Every summer I naively think "Oh! I'm gonna have so much time to work on the comic!" and then I get a summer job. Because I'm nearly 20 and going to college and even if I'm still living under my parent's roof, I can't entirely rely on my dad to pay my tuition. Only for half the year. Then during the school year, I have classes, and I feel burned out by the time I get home, and- It's a whole thing I need to find someway to work around or else nothing gets done and my brain just screams at itself. So, I think scheduling is something I'm gonna figure out throughout January, and try and get a backlog of updates ready throughout February to April or May so maybe we can start posting again in summer. Does that feel like a long wait? Even being near a year from the first update of the AtDFF reboot? Yes. But also I'm trying to over estimate and give myself the time and space I need while still attending college, and I wouldn't just be working on one comic update, but multiple. I'm trying to give myself space and some grace instead of making promises that feel hollow after a while of being unfufilled.

Lack of Motivation and How to Fix

Another thing to address, is my motivation when it comes to these series. I don't think it's accurate to say I've felt completely unmotivated to work on either comic, I mean, I was motivated for some of the beginning of last year to full on overhaul them, but I will say that, these comics have started to feel like a job. It's been something I've felt for a couple years now, where I've been having less fun with the comic as it's begun to feel like actual work. Believe me, I'm super excited for some of the later plot points of both AtDFF and AYC, and I love Undertale-ish and these characters but to get to those points or character moments, it feels like I'm slogging through what comes before it, which isn't good. This is something that sure, rebooting helped for a bit, before I got caught up in school and other stuff, but it's not a permanent solution and I've felt myself slipping back into the comic feeling like a job.

So how might I remedy this? Well, I think the solution might lie in another series I started this year, Drawing Junior Secret Squad until Chapter 3. Even if DJSSuC3 is more Deltarune focused, I've enjoyed drawing Chicago and my other fankids pretty much daily as, there's not that much pressure on it. Definitely not like there is with AtDFF or AYC. I don't have to line, or even color them since, they're just little doodles. I don't have to worry about missing a day since, I'll just do multiple the next day. They're quick, they're easy, I can just draw whatever idea I have with the characters I want, I'm having fun. Back when Ask the Dreemurr-Font Family was nothing but an ask chat on Amino, that's what I did it for. For fun. I wasn't worried with popularity or being like other creators, I just did silly little character driven roleplays for fun. I think that's been my issue with the comics. They aren't fun anymore. They're work because, I feel it's my job to tell this story rather than just... telling it because I want to. So, I think going forward, I'm gonna try to have more fun with the comics and Ish in general. For you all, that's probably gonna look like more sketches and doodles getting posted and maybe even just sharing small comics based off ideas that pop into my brain or from roleplays that happened in my server. Little things to help me regain the enjoyment I had with these comics and world.

Deltarune: Fool's Fate

I think that's all I've got to say on the Undertale based comics, so how about now we move onto something Deltarune related? As I was doing DJSSuC3, I introduced an idea called Deltarune: Fool's Fate. Aka, Chicago and Co's adventures through the Dark Worlds after Kris denied their destiny. So far, this has just been little doodles, character designs, and a roleplay I've been doing in my discord server. I've been having quite a bit of fun with that RP, we're nearly to the end of what would be the first "chapter" and have been fighting Dorothy, the secret boss of the Attic Dark World and who some of y'all might recall I made a real life doll of when my old computer finally kicked the bucket earlier this month. (I've still yet to make her dress or crown) I think roleplays have always been the thing I find the most enjoyable when it comes to character exploration as, I don't have to spend forever drawing comics and I get to sorta live through the characters. It's something I've been doing for characters from even before I was in this fandom. With the Fool's Fate roleplay too, I've also got to come up with elements that could feasibly be in an actual video game without, you know, actually coding a video game.

I don't know where Fool's Fate will go from here, while it'd be cool to have it be an actual fangame, I don't have that sort of skill. Nor the budget to pay a team. (My team for the comics is really just a bunch of friends I convinced to help me out for free.) Even with a sprite comic, it'd be too much. So, for now, it'll likely just remain a concept and roleplay. But, who knows. Maybe someday I could make it into something. I mean, after watching this year's Underevent I wanted to.

Other stuff

With all the UTDR stuff out of the way, what about some of my other stuff? (Because, surprise, Undertale and Deltarune aren't the ONLY things I do. Just the things I hyperfixate on the most.) Well, I've got my Fakemon region, Azmayca, POW-R, Dragon Riders, and Kinder Eyes which I started last summer. I don't really have any plans for them, asides from bugging people for ideas and doodling whenever I'm in the mood. However I think starting this year, I'm gonna try to post more of the doodles I make. Either ones in my sketchbook since DJSS gave me the confidence to post sketchy silly little doodles like that, or sketch doodles I draw digitally as warm ups. Though who knows. Maybe a hyperfixation swing some time during the summer will cause me to actually try to do something crazy like outline the whole Azmayca region and hypothetical game. Hopefully not something like that though. Making the evolutions of my redesigns of the starters might be nice.

Commissions

Another thing I'd like to finally do next year is update my commissions sheet. It's something I've had in the work for a while now, and was working on along side launching the comic updates. But, like the comics, school and work got in the way so... I sorta forgot about it. Regardless! I'm gonna try to post my updated sheet some time within the next few months, it's mostly just been havin to draw or find recent examples of my work. Hopefully then I'll actually get some more commissions because, um *looks at the whooping $3.94 in my checking account* I could really use the extra money. I might work during the summers and get grade payments from my dad but, that stuff is to pay my tuition and some of my lunches during the semester, and even with lunches, 500 dollars is spread thin through 17, 16 ish weeks. That's like, only $30 a week, which is maybe enough to cover buying lunch at the campus food court like, once or twice from the food court. Maybe three times if I'm lucky and conservative with my spending. Not to mention that $300 of that went to my new laptop, and even if I should be getting $300 from a paycheck I was never paid back when I worked at Arby's 3 summers ago, I still haven't gotten that gift card in the mail so... Yeah. If I was living on my own, I'd be screwed. Which is why commissions and Patreon are like, my only source of income during the school year. (I still need to look into getting an on campus job for this upcoming semester but that's its own whole big can of worms.)

Patreon

Speaking of Patreon, that's another goal I want to set. Actually posting to it again. I had a burst early last year were I was regularly posting to Patreon with early access chapters of The Puppet and the Real Boy (before I retconned that with Fool's Fate) and thanks to my only Patreon ever @kierangecko, I managed to make around $50 bucks which ended up being used to help get blanks for some of my Christmas gifts for people (thank you Gecko. I know I did stop posting after like, May, but that money really came in handy.) So for this next year, I'm gonna try to post to that again. Be it WIPs of the comic, scripts, little doodles I don't post on Tumblr or whatever, I want to make Patreon another source of income. Which involves posting to it at least monthly. And even if I don't, then you guys won't have to worry about anything since I've got it set to not charge for months I don't post anything.

Resolution Review

So, to review some of my... I guess you could call them resolutions, though I'd rather think of them as goals I don't absolutely have to hold myself too but would just like to accomplish, I'd like to...

Have more fun when with AtDFF and AYC through drawing and posting more loose, silly comics and doodles

Try figuring out a posting and work schedule for AtDFF and AYC by then end of January

Hopefully get a back log of updates for both comics ready to release by summer

Start on and release Undertale-ish: The Comic sometime this year

Keep doing Drawing Junior Secret Squad until Chapter 3 until Chapters 3 and 4 of Deltarune hopefully come out sometime this year.

Possibly design hypothetical secret boss predictions for Chapters 4 and 5 of Deltarune before the next chapters come out.

Keep working on, designing characters for, and coming up with Dark Worlds for Deltarune: Fool's Fate. Perhaps even drawing some tarot cards with the chapter bosses.

Post more about my other projects, even if they're only sketchbook drawings or warm up doodles.

Update my commissions page and hopefully take more commissions to earn some extra money/save up for college or to move out.

Post regularly to my Patreon, also to earn some extra money.

Generally have a better year than 2023 and to find more enjoyment in my art and projects.

Closing

Ho boy! That was... A lot! This has turned out to be one very long post. Hehe. Well, should be over now that I've said all I need too. Also, if I haven't said it already, I'd like to thank all of you for supporting me and my art. Be it my comics, DJSSuC3, my other projects, or anything I've posted this year. It means a lot to me that people even like what I draw and you all mean the world to me. With all of that out of the way, thank you Creative Creators and I hope you have a Happy New Year.

[verfound]

MINIFIC: Oct. 23: Day 24: You as a Ghost (MLB, Lukanette, DLM AU)

So.  The past week has been…not so great, and not a lot of writing was getting done.  We lost my dog, and I’ve been handling it about as well as can be expected.  I was also struggling with how to make this prompt work, so that didn’t help.  This was a cracky idea that isn’t technically part of the AU?  Canon Lukanette meeting DLM AU Lukanette.

For @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers October Minific Challenge 2023.

Read on Ao3

To Feel Alive Again: Ch24: You as a Ghost

“Ladybug, watch out!”

She barely heard him over the akuma’s screech, but that hardly seemed to matter.  She had just started to turn when Viperion was crashing into her, wrapping his arms around her protectively as he tried to shield her from the akuma’s attack.  She’d have to have words with him about that later.  She had thought he’d gotten over that ridiculous habit years ago, but what with their current…situation…well.  She couldn’t entirely blame him for getting a little more overprotective than usual.

Still.

She’d been doing this long enough – longer than him!  He didn’t have to baby her.

He grunted as the akuma hit them, and she barely had a chance to open her mouth to ask if he was all right when light exploded around them.  There was a great force – a great suction – and then she was being ripped from his arms.

“Lu-!” she started to scream, even as he shouted “Marine-!”

The roaring wind carried the names away as if they’d never been spoken.

She felt his arms slip down hers until just their fingertips were locked tight.

And then he let go.

Ladybug’s vision went black as the wind roared past her ears, but that could have been because she had closed her eyes.  Her stomach churned with the long-familiar feeling of a freefall, until moments later gravity reasserted itself and she was plummeting down, down, until she landed with a thud and a groan in something…smelly.

Soft, or…soft-ish, but…smelly.

She pushed herself up with another groan and looked around, wincing as she rubbed at her back.  She had landed in a pile of bin bags scattered next to a dumpster.  She frowned, glancing a bit more around the alley she was now in.  It seemed fairly standard, as alleys went, but…something felt wrong.  She pushed herself up from the garbage and reached behind her to dust herself off, but she paused when her hands touched her butt.

They were bare.

The gloves that normally covered her hands while transformed were missing.  And her butt was much softer than the magical, protective fabric of her suit.  She looked down, dread pooling in her stomach, and sucked in a breath.  She wasn’t wearing her suit: she was wearing the fuzzy pink swing coat she had picked up a few weeks ago, when it had first started getting colder and she had realized she would soon be showing too much for her old coat to fit.  A shaking hand reached up to touch her ears, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or not to feel the familiar studs still there.

She could still feel their magic – still feel Tikki – pulsing within, but she felt…distant.  Out of reach.

“T…Tikki?” she called, her voice cracking on the name.  There was no answer.  She looked around, a second name dying on her lips as she realized something else.

Luka was missing.

She was alone.

Her hand dropped to her stomach as panic started to creep up her spine.  It…it was fine.  This was fine.  He was…he was fine.  He had to be nearby, right?  They had been in the same blast.  He had to have landed nearby, right?  It was fine.  It was…

“Fuuuuck,” she heard him groan a short distance away, and she looked up with a start to see him hopping away from the wall a short distance from the entrance of the alley, shaking his foot.  He wasn’t transformed, either, and…what was he wearing???  She had never seen that coat before, and she knew all of his coats.  She had made them, after all.

And as much as she tried to honor his own personal style, she had always made sure he looked presentable.  Not…like he’d just crawled out of the discard pile of a second-hand shop.

“Luka!” she called, and he looked up at her voice.  She was already running towards him, and before he could answer she had crashed into him.  She tucked her face against his chest and wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing him tight.  She took a deep breath to calm herself and paused, her nose wrinkling as a strange smell hit her.  Why did he smell…weird?  Almost sour?  Not…not like Luka.

It was also strong enough to trigger her already-sensitive stomach.

“…move!” she barely managed to get out before she shoved him away and spun, bracing a hand on the wall as she threw up the meager breakfast she’d picked at that morning.  The sour smell lingered even after her stomach was empty, and she stood there for a moment retching.  She felt a nervous hand on her shoulder, and she reached back to swat at him.  “St…stay back.  God, you stink.”

“…it’s an alley, Marinette,” he said, sounding a little offended.  “We’re surrounded by trash.  I’m pretty sure I just stepped in piss.  What did you expect when you…why are you down here, anyway?”

“Very funny,” she groaned as she pushed away from the wall.  She wiped at her mouth and tipped her head back, swallowing against the bitter taste in her mouth and wishing for a water bottle.  She put her hands on her stomach and tried to take a few steady, calming breaths.  Tikki was missing, they were God-knew-where, and their little one was currently trying to shove her stomach through her throat.  Now was not the time to panic.  “I know what the doctor said, and I know how much we both hate lying, but right now I need you to lie to me and say this is going to pass soon.  Can you do that for me, Luka?”

“That what is going to…what the fuck is that?” his voice had jumped an entire octave on the end of that question, and Marinette tipped her head down to look at him with a furrowed brow,.  He was staring with wide, panicked eyes at her stomach – more specifically, at the slight bump the sleep shirt she was still wearing under her coat did nothing to hide.  Which, honestly.  Rude.  She had been self-conscious about the bump, sure, but he’d been ecstatic when her slight frame had started showing early.

“You’ve never been more beautiful, darning,” he’d said as he’d dropped to his knees before her, peppering little kisses along her stomach.  “Hello, little one.  You just can’t wait to meet us, can you?”

…Luka had been ecstatic about this baby from day one – even before she had been, back when she was still panicking about missing Miraculous and akuma fights and how can we have a baby now, Lu?  Where the hell did he get off freaking out about her bump now?

“What the fuck is what, Luka?” she asked, frowning.  She groaned as her stomach twisted again, and she rubbed a soothing hand over her belly as she made soothing, shushing sounds.  “It’s ok, sweetie.  Maman’s queasy, too.  Luka, why are you looking at me like that?  It’s not like this is anything new.”

“The hell it isn’t!  You weren’t pregnant an hour ago, Marinette!  You were…how the fuck did this even happen?” he asked, and her eyes popped open as he gestured at her middle.  “You shouldn’t be able to…you can’t…”

“…that’s not funny, Luka,” she said, stepping closer.  She reached out and brushed his bangs back, her thumb rubbing between his eyebrows in a soothing gesture.  He swallowed thickly, and the eyes that flicked up to her were definitely mid-panic spiral.  She reached out for his hand and placed it on her stomach, smiling encouragingly at him.  “You know who this is.  You helped make them.”

“No, I don’t think he did,” another voice came from behind them.  She turned, her brow furrowing, and her eyes widened as she saw Luka walking towards them.  Dressed as she had seen him when he’d left their flat that morning, in his black jacket and with the pink scarf he’d stolen from her a few winters ago sticking out.  The one he liked wearing because it smelled like her.  She glanced back at the…other Luka?  The one beside her, who, now that she got a better look at him…definitely didn’t…well.  He looked like Luka.  He was Luka.  But he looked…

Well.

Like Jagged, she supposed, without the money for Botox or cosmetic surgery.

“Who…what…” he was stammering, his eyes wide and locked on her Luka.  She stepped back, quickly going to Luka’s arms when he held a hand out for her.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, bringing a hand up to rub his thumb along the apple of her cheek.  He glanced down at her stomach, the nerves clear on his face.  “Are you both all right?”

“We’re fine,” she said, reaching up to hold his hand to her cheek.  He leaned in for a kiss, and she scrunched her face as she leaned back.  “Mm, no.  The smell here was enough to get me sick again.  No kisses until I can wash my mouth out.”

“I’ll risk it,” he said, pecking his lips against hers.  She kept her lips pursed, and he hummed as he rubbed her cheek again.  “This is why I didn’t want you in the field anymore.  You took ten years off my life when you let go, darning.”

“Excuse me?  You let go,” she pouted, and he chuckled as he leaned his forehead against hers.

“Never,” he murmured.  “I don’t break my vows, Marinette.  I never let go of you.”

“…fine,” she huffed, flicking his chest.  “We both lost our grip.”

“Fair,” he sighed.  “I don’t like this.  I think we’re in Paris, but it all feels…wrong.  I can’t find Sass.  I can feel him – I still have my bangle – but –”

“Same with Tikki,” she said.  “Parallel world?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he sighed, glancing around her to eye the other him.  “At least I’m not a preppy ass in this one.”

“Hey,” she giggled, “he wasn’t that bad.”

“Sweater vests, Mari,” he said, shivering at the memory.  “And loafers.”

“…can one of you please tell me what the fuck is going on here?” the other him called, an uneasy edge to his voice.  “Like why the fuck are there two of me, and how did a reaper get knocked up?”

“A what?” she asked, the same time Luka said, “The usual way, with many failed attempts and many celebratory tries at repeating the process.”  She slapped his chest, and he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.  “Luka!”

“What?” he asked.  “You know you enjoyed it.”

She could feel the heat crawling up her neck.  He wasn’t wrong, but Other Him was essentially a stranger and didn’t…wait.

He had known her.

Which meant he had a Marinette.

…why was any of this a surprise to him?  Weren’t they busy working on their own...failed attempts?

“Luka…” she started, and when her Luka hummed she batted his arm.  “Not you.  The other you.  Him.”

She gestured to the man standing a few paces away, who had shifted from...dumbfounded curiosity to a more defensive stance.  He had taken a step back, holding himself away from her.  Like he was about to run if she didn’t say something he liked.  She frowned and took a step closer, holding her hands up in a placating manner.  Like she was trying to calm a caged animal.

“Easy,” she said softly, her eyes staying focused on his.  They looked so…old.  Her Luka got that look sometimes, the one of too many Second Chances and timelines best left forgotten, but never to that extent.  What had this Luka seen?  What had he done?  “Luka, you…do you have a Miraculous?”

“…a what?” he asked, his brow furrowing.  She reached up to touch her earrings, and he frowned.  He reached up and flicked his earlobe, gesturing to the black stud that looked so similar to her own Luka’s.  “Not much of a surprise.  You’ve seen them before.”

“No, Luka, not…your bangle,” she said.  His frown deepened.

“I haven’t worn bracelets in a long time,” he said.  “Not since I died.  You…wouldn’t know that.  You’ve never seen me in bracelets.  Why are you asking about bracelets?”

“Mari,” her Luka said, reaching out to touch her shoulder.  “I don’t…I don’t think they have kwamis here.  I think that’s why Sass and Tikki are…I think they’re confined to our Miraculous until we figure out a way home.”

“That would make sense,” she murmured, half-listening to him.  Something about what the other him had said…  “What…what do you mean, since you died?”

His shoulders slumped a little, his expression softening.

“…Marinette,” he said, taking a hesitant step towards her.  “Come on.  Isn’t it a bit late in the game for this denial shit?”

“She’s not your Marinette,” her Luka said, his grip tightening on her shoulder.  “We’re not…from here, Luka.  We were attacked by…something that could create rifts between worlds.”

“…you’re not dead?” the other Luka asked, his eyes widening.  His eyes dropped to her belly.  She had only just started showing a few weeks ago, and she hadn’t gotten anything bigger yet.  Her shirt was tighter than she normally wore, but when the akuma alert had sounded…she had rushed out, barely thinking to toss her new coat over the comfy pajamas she’d been lounging in most of the day.  The other Luka’s eyes were burning, something akin to fear – to hope – shining in them.  “You…you’re together?  And having a baby?  You’re not dead?”

“…n-no.  I mean…yes, we’re married.  We’re expecting.  But…no, we’re not…dead,” she said, the word feeling heavy – wrong – on her tongue after so many years and too many akumas.  She swallowed, reaching up to hold onto Luka’s hand on her shoulder.  She held on tightly, just as she always had.  “Are…are you?”

[thisworldisablackhole]

This week in listening, 02/09/24

I honestly just listened to a fuck ton of Silverstein and Thrice this past week, so in an effort to not repeat the same bands on these posts, I'm only including 6 releases instead of 10.

Chelsea Wolfe's new album dropped today (friday) and by goly it's my favourite thing she's done since Unknown Rooms in 2012. To be fair, I haven't given many of her other albums a fair shot (heavy doom-folk wasn't really my cup of tea), but after listening to this I think I owe it to myself to do a full run through her discography. The gothic industrial instrumentals are both subdued and engaging, and when combined with Chelsea's gorgeous voice it comes together to sound somewhat like a soundtrack to unearthing the catacombs of a lost civilization in a decayed concrete jungle.

Like Moths To Flames has been one of my favourite metalcore bands since I re-discovered them a few years ago. They've been a super solid band ever since their first EP in 2010 and have only grown stronger over the years. It's actually quite rare for a metalcore band from the 2010's to still be on top of their game and improving after 6 LP's. One of my favourite things about this band, and why I believe they've managed to be so consistent over the years, is that they aren't afraid to wane and wax in their evolution without losing sight of their DNA. Over their career they have released albums that have gone back and forth from heavy hardcore to a more hook centric Breaking Benjamin-esque alt metal sound, but it's always been good and it's always sounded like the same band. Now with these new singles (and the two standalone singles they dropped in 2023) they are stripping way back on the catchy choruses to pour their focus into just creating memorable and heavy as fuck riffs. This is some of their most crushing and technical material to date and I can not wait for the full length to drop later this year.

Wolves & Machines are a super underrated alternative rock/post hardcore band in the vein of Brand New and Thrice. I first listened to this band back in 2010 when they released their debut record Ailments. I really loved that record and have super fond memories listening to it, but those memories were only triggered recently when I stumbled upon them again while falling down a rabbit hole of "fans also like" sections on spotify. I completely forgot they existed until I saw their name and then all those memories came flooding back to me. I swiftly hit play on Ailments and let the nostalgia bathe me in it's afterglow. The absolute best part of rediscovering this band though was finding out that they never stopped putting out really solid albums. I have since fallen absolutely head over heels with their 2014 record Since Before Our Time. For fucks sake, just hit play and you'll see why.

Ghost Atlas is the side project of progressive metalcore outfit ERRA's guitarist and clean vocalist Jesse Cash. Ghost Atlas' 2017 album All Is In Sync... was very much rooted in post hardcore ala HRVRD, Saosin and Circa Survive. With this new album he has diverted course a bit into much softer pop rock territory. He didn't completely ditch the post hardcore edge, but the whole album is just a lot more mellow and blissed out than his previous work. Some fans have felt very divided by this shift in sound, but I love it. This record is just pure comfort. I think the album art does a perfect job at capturing the vibe: a morning cup o' joe on your balcony with a cat on your lap, and Jesse's beautiful voice serenading you into a deep state on contentedness. This is likely going to end up on my year end list.

I've been a "big fan" of Burial ever since his groundbreaking 2007 LP Untrue. I put "big fan" in parenthesis because despite absolutely loving some of his earlier music to death, I am not die hard enough to be keeping up with every two song single or weird ambient EP he has released over the years. Someone wrote online that this new single was his "best work since Rival Dealer", and that was enough to make me don my Burial fan cap again and dive in. Boy was I not disappointed. These two tracks are expansive at approx. 13 minutes each, but they do not feel tiring or strung out at all. They represent everything I love about Burial; that sweet sweet crackling atmosphere, nimble footed drum patterns and haunting vocal samples that are effective in their sparsity, injecting just the perfect amount of melody into the hazy rhythms. Dreamfear slowly disintegrates and becomes more aggressive over it's run time until the sample repeating "BACK FROM THE DEAD, FUCKED UP IN THE HEAD" hits us in the head over and over, inducing psychosis panic in the listener. It's glorious.

I've been getting back into more progressive rock and metal recently. I blame TesseracT and Aviations for that, as they both put out absolute home run records last year that reawakened the bound and gagged Dream Theater fan inside me. I checked this album on a whim after reading a review about it that described it as "bright and uplifting" metal, and I was immediately captivated by it. If there's one thing I absolutely adore in music, it's a contradiction. Taking two things that people usually do not associate with each other (uplifting and metal) and engaging them in holy matrimony. Artificial Language have a more classical sound than Aviations, but the bright chords, djenty riffs and piano leads are all still in stock. I'd say it's the perfect counterpart to 2023's Luminaria and I'm keen to give it more listens over the coming weeks.