Walker Harris 🫜‬

@walkerharris.net

1961 Followers 1212 Following

He/him. Author. Anti-AI, Pro-LGBTQIA+. Philosopher Queens: rock romance serial about lives & loves of an indie band ❤️🎸 Felcrown: fantasy adventure serial & ttrpg setting about a megadungeon that becomes a city WalkerHarris.net Wattpad.com/user/WHarris

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'yellow' highlighted.

We come around one of the buildings to the pool and see Rachel there with her Aunt. Rachel jumps up and waves at us. She is hard to miss in a bright yellow bikini top and tiny white shorts.
It is impossible not to have noticed how undeniably attractive she was before. However, now looking at her very fit body including some of the finest abs I have ever seen, I know I should have stayed home.
As we walk up, it certainly doesn’t help that the sparkle of her belly button piercing attracts my attention. Unfortunately, not enough to avoid noticing her bikini top is tight enough to reveal little heart-shaped nipple jewelry—not that I would look at her abs or her breasts but, either way, I am positive I will be completely normal in never thinking about those piercings ever again.

An illustration of a woman with long, wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and light-colored skin playing a bright orange and red electric guitar (left-handed) and smiling. She is wearing a sleeveless red shirt and has a black skirt, as well as a black choker with a silver music note dangling from it and black finger nail polish. Her left arm has a sleeve tattoo of colorful swirls and music notes.

Illustration by Barb/Lokyu https://lokyu.carrd.co/

Protected Kevin Hart meme with Kevin Hart being held up by Erica Ash as Bridgette. She is pointing with two fingers in a "I'm watching you" manner towards another woman while protecting Kevin Hart from her. Over him are the words 'My Characters'. Over the woman protecting him is the word 'Me'. And over the other woman is the words 'Trad pub querying trenches.'

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'smoked' highlighted.

The door buzzes and I head in.
There’s that feel to so many apartment entryways. Mine is a totally different design, but that vibe is still there.
Quiet with the muffled murmuring of televisions and conversations.
Doormats outside each identical door. A couple with little piles of kids’ shoes scattered on them.
The aroma of dinners of various ethnicities subtly blending together. The distinctive herbal scent of someone taking the edge off their day. Been a while since I’ve smoked, but I definitely remember that scent.
There’s a flash of memory—Shawna and I as teenagers trying to find ways to cover the smell before going home. She’s getting increasingly panicked about her parents finding out.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'next' highlighted.

She is wearing very flimsy white loose pants and a t-shirt that is thin enough that the hint of a black swimsuit peeks through which, of course, catches my eye. I force myself to quickly turn back towards the front but catch sight of a picnic basket next to her.
I ask, “Were we supposed to bring something? AJ, did you bring something?”
“No, I’m just bringing you two.”
“I didn’t bring anything,” I say.
“Stop. You are fine. Rachel asked me to bring the Apple-Blueberry-Cherry pie that I made last year. She has the rest covered.”
“Should we stop on the way and get something to bring? Is it rude not to bring something?” I ask.
“No!” they both answer in unison.
I should have brought something. Or stayed home.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'temple' highlighted.

“You stopping in quick or you done for now?” [Kyle] asks.
“I am done for now. I wanted to come back to the campsite.” [Katie]
“Are you checking on me? I’m fine. Really.”
“I still wanted to come by,” I say. “Is it ok if I stay, or would you rather be alone?”
“I always enjoy your company.” He smiles warmly, and then looks back at the sky. “I just don’t want you to worry that I’m moping or something and you need to cheer me up. I’m good. Great, actually! It’s so peaceful. Not too hot, the sun behind the trees now, and the music faintly in the background.”
I join him on the ground, deciding to lay the opposite way with my feet away from him and my head resting right next to his. “So have you just been staring at the sky this whole time?”
“Well, sort of. I was writing in here,” he taps his temple. “But it is such a lovely day, I realized I’m not sure the last time I just watched the clouds. So I have been doing that most of the time.”
“That sounds wonderful. Between the academic work and then everything for the band this summer, I feel like I have been running nonstop for years.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I should stop and watch the clouds more, too.”
He points up. “Hey, that one looks like your couch! That curve there is where it sinks way down when I sit on it.”
I playfully swat at his hand. “It does not sink that low. It is a very nice couch. You can sit on the floor next time you are over if you prefer.” Without the daily rehearsals I do not know when that will be, but I definitely need to make sure it is soon. We are at a transition, and I do not want a gap to grow between us.

Screenshot of the current air quality where I live showing it deep into the Hazardous range. Overlaid on top of that in the lower left corner is the meme of the cartoon dog with a cup of coffee saying, "This is fine."

For more information, the air quality chart is a dial style chart with ranges of good being green, then yellow, orange, red, purple, and then indigo with thresholds at 50, 100, 150, 200, and 300, with above 300 is Hazardous. Current rating is 426.

Pollutant is PM2.5 - which means particulate matter finer than 2.5 micrometers. The time stamp on it is 8 AM EDT July 16.

A bar chart showing that last 24 hours shows a yellow level for a while and then jumping up to hazardous quickly and remaining there.

Screenshot of a web page of the story with prose and text messages.

I am thankfully distracted from the passionate noises from one side of the room by a loud thud, a clang, and a string of agonized grumbling from Kyle’s side of the wall.

I pick up my phone and hold it far too close to my face so that I can read it without my glasses and message him.

Katie
Are you ok?

There is some fumbling noises, then several footsteps towards the wall.

Kyle
I’m good. Just kicked a table and knocked over a lamp.
# of unbroken lamps: 1
# of unbroken toes: 9
Sorry to wake you. Guess the walls are pretty thin or I was louder than I thought.

I chuckle at Kyle’s messages.

Katie
I presume # of broken toes is 1 or is that an old war injury? 😉

I include a winking emoji to make it clear that I am joking. Although maybe that was not necessary? He should know that I know that he was not in any war. Right?

Kyle
Not sure if it’s broken or not. Still trying to find it on the floor. Should be around here somewhere. It might have rolled under the bed.

Katie
Good luck.
Let me know if you need a search party.

Screenshot of a web page of the story with prose and text messages.

I am thankfully distracted from the passionate noises from one side of the room by a loud thud, a clang, and a string of agonized grumbling from Kyle’s side of the wall.

I pick up my phone and hold it far too close to my face so that I can read it without my glasses and message him.

Katie
Are you ok?

There is some fumbling noises, then several footsteps towards the wall.

Kyle
I’m good. Just kicked a table and knocked over a lamp.
# of unbroken lamps: 1
# of unbroken toes: 9
Sorry to wake you. Guess the walls are pretty thin or I was louder than I thought.

I chuckle at Kyle’s messages.

Katie
I presume # of broken toes is 1 or is that an old war injury? 😉

I include a winking emoji to make it clear that I am joking. Although maybe that was not necessary? He should know that I know that he was not in any war. Right?

Kyle
Not sure if it’s broken or not. Still trying to find it on the floor. Should be around here somewhere. It might have rolled under the bed.

Katie
Good luck.
Let me know if you need a search party.

Black and white dungeon map with words overlaid on top. Map by Dyson Logos.

Felcrown

Nearly 500 years ago, a corrupted celestial was violently cast down to our world. He carved out a sprawling dungeon complex and summoned us to populate it.
He then became our god.
21 years ago, we murdered him.

The megadungeon that became a city. Coming soon to https://WalkerHarris.net

Image of a blue-skinned woman with large horns and a lot of muscles holding an axe and her arms wide ready to accept anyone who wants to fight her. Generated by HeroForge RPG mini site.

“Ashley.” She offers her hand and I shake it. She is quite pretty. Dirty blond hair tied back in a ponytail. Clear plastic rim glasses, and a cute but nervous smile. Also, unlike certain other women I know, it looks like she might close to my age—at the very least within the same decade, which is an improvement.
Now, I have never been picked up in a bar or attempted picking someone else up, but this sure has that feeling. I hope I don’t have the obvious deer-in-the-headlights look, but between all of whatever that is with Katie and now having a woman I never met possibly hitting on me, I’m hopeless. It is pure headlights and deer.
“Your band is really cool. That music is amazing! How long have you been playing?”
“An embarrassing short amount of time. The rest of them have been playing for a lot longer, though. I am just struggling to keep up.”
She laughs and nudges me with her shoulder. “I thought you sounded great.”
“Thank you, that is really kind of you.”
Then I just sort of look at her. And she looks at me. And I have zero idea what I should do, especially because she seems lovely but I’m not sure I actually want to be picked up.
She bites her bottom lip and looks at the bar. “So, uh, what are you drinking?”
“Just some cheap beer on tap.” I should buy her a drink. I think. I have no idea if buying her a drink is some sort of strong signal or commitment, or just being polite. I definitely know I don’t want to be impolite. My parents didn’t raise an impolite son. “What about you? We don’t have many fans yet, so can we buy you a drink?”
I’m hoping framing it as a thanks from the whole band helps, but I really wish I let someone else order this round. Ashley seems really nice. I should be excited that there is an attractive woman who is trying to pick me up. At least, it seems like that’s what she is doing. I honestly have no idea! A different me at a different time would be utterly elated right now. So why am I trying to escape this as quick as possible?

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript.

“Thanks. I thought I had it, but I’m still too hit and miss. I will make sure to drill that section hard—” and I look up and see her. My jaw actually drops.
She is wearing knee-high, thick soled boots, a scandalously short black, pleated skirt, and a sleeveless red shirt showing off her incredible sleeve tattoo and unbuttoned slightly past the black lace bra peeking out underneath. Topping off the look is a thin black choker with a delicate silver music note dangling from it. I have no idea why evolution programmed our lizard brains to react the way we do chokers, but looking at Katie right now, I will not deny it.
The bikini at the pool revealed more of her and was definitely sexy, but context can matter as much as bare skin. Right now she is mind-blowingly hot. I know I should say something, but for some reason there is not enough blood flowing to my brain.
“What do you think? This is one of the outfits Wynne found for me. Is it great?”
“Yes, it is… you are stunning!”
Her smile is beaming. She puts her hands behind her back and bounces on her toes excitedly. Ok, she is mind-blowingly hot and adorable. How is it possible to be that cute and sexy at the same time?
“I am rather nervous about going out in public wearing it, but I just love it! It is so fun!”
Then she puts her arms out and spins to show it off, and that was definitely a mistake.
The scandalously short skirt flies up revealing black panties even skimpier than her bikini, the lovely curve of that ass, and…

Screenshot of a webpage with prose and mocked up text conversations.

I actually faintly hear him laugh on the other side of the wall. It occurs to me that his head is probably no more than a foot or two away from mine. Reaching up, I gently touch the wall.

Text from Kyle "We aim to please, ma’am."

Followed by a gif of a handsome cowboy tipping his hat.

Text from Katie "Swoon!"

He starts to type, but then clicks the heart reaction to my message. Then nothing.

It does thankfully quiet down on Rachel’s side of the room, as well. I wonder how to continue the text conversation. Or maybe it has run its course. Do not drag the song out too long, no matter how lovely it is.

Text from Katie "It is quiet next door now. Think I will finally get some sleep. Thanks for the company!"

Text from Kyle "I’m glad. Good night, and sweet dreams."

Text from Katie "Good night, and sweet dreams to you, too!"

I set my phone down on the end table and run my finger along its outline. I have no idea what to conclude from our conversation, but I know it made me happy. Right now, as exhausted as I am, that is more than enough.

I look up at the headboard and imagine him laying just the other side of that thin wall so close I could reach up and run my fingers through his hair.

My breath catches as he knocks the unmistakable “shave and a haircut” right above my head. He must be thinking about how close we are right now, too!

I answer back with the double knock response, then wiggle under the covers. Between how awesome it was playing my songs with my friends for the first time ever for an audience, to the silly text conversation with Kyle, I am happier than I have been in a very long time.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript.

His arm on my back suddenly starts tickling my side and I curl up laughing.
I manage to twist away and go for his sides with both hands and I discover the delicious fact that Kyle is not only extremely ticklish, but when tickled his laugh is an octave and a half higher than his normal laugh.
It is so adorable!
It is also loud, which is the only reason I stop.
“Shh!” I chastise, even though I was the one tickling him. “You will wake the kids!”
“You shushing me??? I’m pretty sure that was your fault.”
“I could not help myself,” I say. “Sorry, not sorry.”

Photo of the night sky with plenty of stars showing and one short but really bright white line that is the International Space Station moving through the frame during the few second exposure.

An illustration of a white man wearing a purple button-down short sleeve shirt with a bass guitar that hangs in front of him. He has neatly styled dark hair slightly greying on the sides, and is smiling warmly. Illustration by Dairy Tart https://dairytart.carrd.co/.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word ‘grills’ highlighted.

The rest of the afternoon is wonderful. Part of me still feels out of place and awkward, but it is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain that. Regardless of ages, they are my friends. Even AJ and I are forming an interesting relationship still as father and son, but also as good friends, which has been great.

Rachel grills up some hamburgers that are too delicious to only have one. I also have a nice conversation with Aunt Desirae hearing stories about how much of an adorable terror Rachel was as a child. I am not the least bit surprised by some of her antics.

Katie, AJ, Rachel, and I spend the hottest part of the afternoon in the pool swimming and playing silly, childhood games. AJ suggests chicken fights with Rachel on his shoulders and Katie on mine. Katie hesitates and I start thinking of an excuse to save her the pressure. However, the silliness of the day wins out and she climbs up. Given Rachel’s and AJ’s strength they easily win, but given Katie’s thighs squeezing me to hold on, winning is a relative term.

She was out there now, in that snowy tundra. Searching. Speaking with locals. Focused on her work. Hope would have no thoughts for him, only her mission.
He traced a finger along the shoreline, trying to remember what it looked like the last time he visited so many years ago. The memory was dull and unclear. The map itself even blurred even more.
Maybe if he rested his eyes for just a few—
“Dragons! 10 young, one patriarch! Tundra Claw.” Hope’s voice magically cut into his mind from over a hundred miles away. Her desperation and determination tore into his heart. “Heading to Felcrown! Prepare defenses, I… can’t get them all. I’m sorry I never told how much you—”
The spell abruptly cut her off at the word limit. She was too disciplined to make that mistake lightly. The underlying message was clear and far more terrifying to Nicademus than a dragon attack on the city. The minotaur stumbled off of his stool, knocking it down and spilling ink across the map. He knew he had only moments to reply before the spell ended.
What should he tell her? There was so much he wish he had said to her, wish he had done. He could feel the connection slipping away. His last link to her. His last words to her…
“No!” The word slipped through his thoughts to her. “I will warn them but… but you will not be alone. No… never… never alone again!”
His knees popped as he hurried over and opened the secret door that concealed his gear. Grabbing a staff he mentally communicated the relevant details to the general of the outer defenses. A curt “Noted” was the only reply and all that was necessary.
Right now, bells would be ringing along the defensive wall surrounding the opening of Godsfall Chasm. Soldiers would be arming themselves, orders would be yelled. None of that mattered to Nicademus. Because right now, at the northern bay over a hundred miles away, Hope was battling an entire flight of dragons.
Alone.
Tundra Claw was a particularly brutal clan, more predator than ruling clan.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'out' highlighted three times. There are also a couple words struck out and some multicolor words to show edits since this is a work in progress.

It is strange all of the subtle variations of panic one can feel. The 3rd grade flashback was the panic of a trapped animal, unable to escape. Rapid heartbeat, thoughts racing a mile a minute trying to find a path out. A hot panic.
Thinking about our first gig is a blood-draining variety of panic, chilling you to the bone. Your mind doesn’t race but freezes, unable to form any thoughts at all.
“Well, exciting is one word for it,” I manage to say. “But, I guess it’s finally time. We are going to be playing in front of people. Out loud. While they watch.”
She giggles and her eyes move up from the floor to look at mine. The warm rush of seeing her smile doesn’t ease the panic, but makes it worth it.
“Yes, I guess we should play out loud even if they are going to watch us.” She keeps rocking back and forth, now pulling her sleeves down over her hands. She shrugs and her face scrunches up adorably. “Seriously, they are going to be watching Rachel, right? I mean, she is the lead singer and, well… she looks like that. Who is going to be watching us with her right there? You know?”

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'knock' highlighted twice.

Katie
It is quiet next door now. Think I will finally get some sleep. Thanks for the company!
Kyle
I’m glad. Good night and sweet dreams.
Katie
Good night and sweet dreams to you, too!
I set my phone down on the end table and run my finger along its outline. I have no idea what to conclude from our conversation, but I know it made me happy. Right now, as exhausted as I am, that is more than enough.
I look up at the headboard and imagine him laying just the other side of that thin wall so close I could reach up and run my fingers through his hair.
My breath catches as he knocks the unmistakable “shave and a haircut” right above my head. He must be thinking about how close we are right now, too!
I answer back with the double knock response, then wiggle under the covers. Between how awesome it was playing my songs on stage with my friends for the first time ever to the silly text conversation with Kyle, I am happier than I have been in a very long time.

Screenshot of a tweet from "Karolyn Sharp @etcandsoforth" saying "Was at a training once where the facilitator said 'Unsolicited advice is criticism. Always.' Half the room audibly gasped and objects. The other half shouted a chorus of yes, thank you, amen. She offered no quarter to the 'just being helpful' brigade. It was glorious."

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'water' highlighted.

The shower in the adjacent room turns on and startles me. The walls are so thin that for a moment I thought it was my own. I guess whoever is next door must have had the same mental debate but came to a different conclusion.
I rub the washcloth on my face but freeze as a realization strikes me. That is Kyle’s room.
Slowly turning around, I look at the shower. He is just on the other side of that very thin wall. Right now. Showering. Water running down him.
Naked.
Maybe I could use a shower after all?
Join in so that he could hear me? Have him think about how naked I am on this side of that very thin wall?

An illustration of a white woman with long, wavy brown hair and light-colored skin holding a bright orange and red electric guitar. She is wearing comfortable clothes including a pale blue long sleeve short with sleeves rolled up over a light green shirt. One of her arms has colorful tattoos covering it. She is smiling.
Illustration by Dairy Tart https://dairytart.carrd.co/.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'sensation' highlighted.

Rachel is staring at me. Her eyes are the widest I have ever seen. Her chest heaves with breaths from kicking ass faster than I thought possible.
She grabs my shoulders, looking me up and down. I can only stare in awe of her.
Rachel saved me.
“Are you alright? Katie, talk to me! Did he hurt you?”
I need thank her. I need to tell her that I am fine… that he only threatened me… that she is a superhero… I need to say so many things but I cannot form words.
It is such a strange sensation feeling the adrenaline rush dissipating. My heart is still racing. My breathing is still in frantic gasps. However, that tell tale tingle in my blood ebbs and the tears follow fast on its heels.
“I am fuh-fuh-fine. Thank… a-amazing… you…” I lunge forward and wrap my arms around her neck and squeeze her for dear life. She saved me! She is incredible.
She hugs me so tight that I feel the ground drop away as she lifts me into her embrace.
It all hits me as I sob uncontrollably into her shoulder. I think I hear a car squeal its tires driving away. I think I hear voices and running feet. The only thing I hear for certain is my Rachel whispering over and over, “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript.

Redsleeves cranked the handles of her walking chair and thankfully people parted for her to pass. She considered offering for Pyntal to ride along. It would be tight, but she should fit. However, the gnome actually had a slight smile on her face as she jogged along next to the chair. Apparently, the chance to run was helping her recover from the horrors behind them.
They were slowed by a wave of people rushing toward the Obsidian Tower. Young and old alike, a dizzying array of species, with most dressed in their finest party outfits, all rushed down elevators and stairs carrying improvised bandages, water, anything that might help the wounded below.

A screenshot of Avery's followers showing 800 with me apparently being the 800th, I guess?

Illustration of a gnoll woman (hyena person) with long hair, lower teeth protruding, and a skull of some sort on her shoulder.

Text says "Placeholder art for Redsleeves"

Illustration of a man with pale white skin with purple lines criss-crossing his face. He has black and purple hair and is wearing a long black coat over brightly colored clothes. He is hold a red cat that also has various markings on her. The cat also has feathered wings and a scorpion tail. They are against a yellow back and it is signed by the artist, the amazing @nushdeco.bsky.social.

Picrew illustration of a woman with pale gray skin and white long hair. She has icy blue eyes, pointy ears, and is smiling. She is wearing a sleeveless purple tank top with a black ribbon tied around the neck.

The artist watermark says Maddel_art

An artist character sheet image of Digs. She is a purple-skinned, pale blue eyes, and white horns. She has dark blue hair in faux locs with three tight braids on either side of her face. She is wearing ring mail armor and has a long sword in her hand and a shield on her back. Next to her are depicted a shield, her sword, her glasses, backpack, and a red potion. In the lower left corner are several facial expressions - laughing, surprised, worried. Along the top is says, "Dignity 'Digs' Dunandrien" and "Digs is one of the Liberty Children born the day the citizens of Felcrown rose up and freed themselves from the rule of their Oppressor God. They are honored every year during Unification Day celebration. She has now pledged herself to protect the city and all who live within it. In return, the city itself has granted Digs divine power to carry out that mission as a new Warden of Felcrown." By the awesome Clara Saliz @clarasalizart.bsky.social

An illustration of a white man with broad shoulders, muscular arms and a round belly. He is leaning his head forward while rubbing his neck nervously. He has floppy curly black hair, and is wearing green cargo shorts with drumsticks in his pocket. One shoe is untied. His black t-shirt is for the band 'Knights of Future Glory.' Illustration by Dairy Tart https://dairytart.carrd.co/.

An illustration of a Black woman wearing ripped, tight, blue jeans, black low heel boots, and a white crop tank top showing off some well-toned arms. She is leaning on a microphone and stand. She has shoulder-length tawny corkscrew curl hair and is smiling brightly. She also has a small belly button piercing. Illustration by Dairy Tart https://dairytart.carrd.co/.

An illustration of a white man wearing tan slacks and a purple button-down short sleeve shirt with a hand in his pocket. He other had is holding a bass guitar that hangs in front of him. He has neatly styled dark hair slightly greying on the sides, and is smiling warmly. Illustration by Dairy Tart https://dairytart.carrd.co/.

An illustration of a white woman with long, wavy brown hair and light-colored skin holding a bright orange and red electric guitar. She is wearing comfortable clothes including a pale blue long sleeve short with sleeves rolled up over a light green shirt, and grey loose-fitting pants. One of her arms has colorful tattoos covering it. She is smiling.
Illustration by Dairy Tart https://dairytart.carrd.co/.

Promotional image from the video game Pratfall. It is cartoony with muppet-like characters underground walking down a hole they dug from a brown, rocky area to a blue icy one.

Photo of a young deer in a suburban front yard.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript.

[end of scene from Rachel’s POV]
“Don’t let me catch you using the wrong bathroom again, pervert!” The entire bar goes silent at the outburst of some dude over near the bathrooms.
I turn and am unsurprised at the cliche of a buzzcut redneck complete with cop-stache halfway across the bar standing near the restrooms glaring at someone hurrying away. I don’t normally make assumptions, but from their appearance and the situation, it’s a safe guess they’re a trans woman or maybe enby.
I flip the transphobe a middle finger and turn back to AJ. He is standing and looking furious. Kyle is… gone? Looking over my shoulder, I see Kyle hopping down from our little stage towards the trans woman—or at least attempting to. He forgot to unplug and his bass gets yanked back.
Before I can step over to help that noble dope, Katie’s voice echoes over the speakers. “Excuse me, sir? Yes, you. Hi, there.”
What the fuck is happening? I’m not sure who to help. Glancing back at AJ, he has shifted to confused with his eyes wide and is shrugging.
Katie says, “What is your name?”
“Bob!” he hollers back.
“Do you work here?”
“Nope, ma’am. Just looking out for you ladies.”
Kyle is at least unplugged now and talking to the woman who is shaking and struggling to hold back tears. One of the servers joins them.
“Well, Bob, you inspired me. This is a new, original song just for you.”
He beams at Katie. I am not thinking this is going to go how he thinks it will.
She sings, “He is Bob…” Then she strums a happy, major chord. “Bob…” Strum. “Bob the bigoted bathroom cop!” The jaunty melody she launches into is almost as much fun as witnessing Bob the Bigoted Bathroom Cop’s jaw drop open in disbelief.
Holy shit. I guess we are doing this and my Katie needs back up!

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript.

I reach the smithy and let myself in. Walking past the cobweb-covered tools, I make my way up the back stairs to our home above the shop.
His chair is waiting by the fireplace and I gently brush off the hint of dust that has fallen on it. I don’t bother with mine, letting the dust cloud that puffs off of it when I sit handle that well enough. I don’t light any lamps. I can see well enough in the darkness, and I already know everything that is in here.
As well as everything that is not.
“Got another one, today, honey,” I say to the void that fills the seat next to me. “Also got a solid lead on something big. With luck Sevastian might be there and we can end this. Sorry, I did throw that lovely axe you made into some cement stairs, but not even a chip on it. Still unbroken.”
I smile remembering when he gave it to me, all awkwardly asking if he could court me, like some fancy noble. I bent down, grabbed that dwarf’s braided beard and kissed him like he’d never been kissed before.
I’m shaken from the memory by one of the shutters blowing loose and a chill wind striking me. I could fix the shutter. I could light a fire. But there is no point.
I haven’t felt warm in a long time, and no fire can help that.
“Just gotta climb my way over a few more corpses to get to Sevastian and make him suffer for what he took from us. Then we can be together again in the Forge of Souls. Soon, my love.”
I close my eyes and settle into the chair to sleep, reaching out to hold a hand that is no longer there.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'draw' highlighted.

Rachel immediately sits down on the bed and bounces on it a few times. “Uh oh, you got a couple hot girls in your room. We better be quiet or your dad will hear us. Bet we’re not the first, huh?”
“Very funny. No, I didn’t sneak girls into my room,” he says.
“Aw, that is too bad,” I say, sitting down next to Rachel and batting my lashes up at Kyle.
Rachel asks, “How did you spend all those lonely teenage years, then?”
He points to a door, "In the closet."
Rachel and I both let out a laugh.
He opens the door to reveal a walk-in closet with a desk built into the wall. “My dad built the desk because I liked to tuck away in here and draw. We called it my art studio.”
Rachel says, “Now, now, you don’t need to explain. Many of us spent much of our youth in the closet. Of all people, I shouldn’t have presumed.”

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'equal' highlighted.

[Man 1] says, “No apologies, it sounded great.”
I see a strategic opening and decide to take it. I hope it does not come back to bite me. “Hey, I can apologize if I want,” I say rather sternly to [Man 1]. His eyebrows raise in surprise. “I do not recall my contract saying you are my boss.”
I hope by standing up to [Man 1] it might help even slightly in getting [Man 2] to tolerate my presence. At the very least, it is probably a good idea to establish that [Man 1] is not, in fact, my boss. I feel comfortable with him enough already that I am sure I can explain later, if necessary.
As much as I want to glance over to see [Man 2]’s response, I do not want to appear to be obviously trying to appease him either. Unfortunately, I have been the lone woman in situations like this before, from academic committees to group projects back when I was a student. I have sadly learned how much it helps to stake out my equal claim in the territorial pissing fights guys can get into. Otherwise, it is all too easy for them to see me as nothing more than a resource to win over.
It is rarely intentional, but that does not make it any less real.
[Man 1] is unsure of how to respond to that, but [Man 3] interjects again with, “How about we just get to playing?”
Before the others respond, I make sure to get in quick, “Sounds good to me, if you two are done arguing.”

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'jacket' highlighted.

Both riders are over 6 feet tall and massively built. On a brilliant blue, sporty-style motorcycle is a woman in blue jeans and a black leather jacket who has the physique of a bodybuilder. She takes her helmet off and shakes out her raven black hair that drops past her shoulders. I would guess her age at around 30, but given her size and her strong nose and chin, she looks like a Greek hero of legend, millennia old.
She sees Rachel and AJ running over and gives a polite wave, and then starts unfastening a guitar case from the side of her motorcycle.
The other rider is on a much older, classic motorcycle with long handlebars. He is a massive man, the type you would not be surprised to see on an ancient Scottish or Viking battlefield wielding a battleaxe bigger than any of us. All muscle and gut.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript.

Then [Rachel] yells back in her microphone, “Can I get a ‘Fuck bigots’?!”
It is so lovely hearing the audience answer back, loud and proud, “FUCK BIGOTS!”
Rachel closes her eyes and literally purrs—the sound echoing through the bar. Considering how much it shifts my mood rather decidedly to something else, I can only imagine the effect on much of the audience. “Mmm… now that makes me feel… so… goooood.”
I gulp and hope my microphone does not pick it up.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'group' highlighted.

“Oh my goodness, did that woman just give you her number?” Katie asks.
“I think so?” I pull out the napkin and read it. “Yep, that is her name and that pattern of digits is traditionally a phone number.”
“Wow, way to go, Dad!” AJ pats me on the back.
“What do I do?” I am utterly baffled at how to handle this.
Rachel leans in intently. “That depends. Do you want to take her home tonight? If so, we’ve got you covered. I can be your wingman if you want some help navigating things now that she is back with her group of friends. If you would rather be all ‘gentleman-like’…” She makes air quotes with her fingers and adds clear sarcasm to her voice. “Then give her a call tomorrow, probably early afternoon, and invite her out. When was the last time you asked someone out?”
I do some mental math. “Uh, back in the late 1900’s.”
Rachel says, “Ha ha, funny. Well, now there are these newfangled inventions called cellphones that transmit your voice or a type-written message over great distances.”

An illustration of a white woman with long, wavy brown hair and light-colored skin holding a bright orange and red electric guitar. She is wearing comfortable clothes including a pale blue long sleeve short with sleeves rolled up over a light green shirt, and grey loose-fitting pants. One of her arms has colorful tattoos covering it. She is smiling.
Illustration by Dairy Tart https://dairytart.carrd.co/.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'stage' highlighted.

Rachel is pacing nervously. AJ is hopping in place, shaking his arms, buzzing with energy. Katie has a laser focus at the instruments on the stage. Knowing her, she is mentally tweaking a couple solos still.
I am surprisingly calm.
I thought I would be more terrified than any of the bar gigs, but now that we are here—and this is my last time performing with them—there’s a strange peace to the moment.
I don’t know if I am already mentally distancing myself as I watch them get ready to head out there, or if there is some strange parallel to a death row inmate making that final walk. It is simply a calm giving yourself over to inevitability. This is it. The end. My last rock star appearance.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'trees' highlighted.

The six of us spend the rest of the evening watching an impressive fireworks show in the nearby park. Trees and distant rooftops surround us. At least a dozen other firework shows are scattered as tiny bright bursts all along the horizon.
This is such a lovely Lloyd family tradition and I understand why they look forward to it.
However, I find myself distracted looking at the others. Three generations of Lloyds sit together now. I imagine Kyle as a child up here with his parents and eventually him with young AJ and Wynne carrying on the tradition.
This year, Rachel and I are blessed to join them. Colorful bursts of light shine on their faces and I catch Kyle watching me again. I sign and mouth, “Thank you.” His smile broadens.
The weight of home and family is thick in the air.
I love it here.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'seen' highlighted.

“Anyway! I was trying to say, rather than just a physical attraction, I feel the greater emotional pull to guys. It’s only been the past few years that I’ve been honest enough with myself to acknowledge it and even less to, well, act on it. Even that has been pretty much just, ya know, threesomes with an excited couple and giving them both attention.”
He has completely let his guard down, and he looks at me with such loneliness and pleading.
“Other than talking to Roger about it, I’ve never openly admitted all of this to anyone.”
The power dynamics have been entirely reversed. He is the scared, lonely gay hiding in the closet wanting not to be alone, and I’m the out and happy one who can pull him out of those shadows. I have felt that feeling, and seen that look on so many others—friends, casual acquaintances, strangers—who see a proudly out gay man and wish it could be them.

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'clip' highlighted. Some of the software interface shows with the scene named "Home Movies and Night."

We continue to watch my whole life rewind, and it is a strange sensation. Not just rewinding, but unwinding. My life is now irrevocably intertwined with AJ and Wynne. But through watching the movies going further back in time, that slowly unraveled, until they were gone. I had once thought Heather and I were that deeply connected, but over the past hour, I have watched the entirety of our marriage and relationship from end to beginning and now she is unwound from my life, as well.
Katie has become deeply intertwined with me, but we have known each other for so little that, other than that first clip and perhaps the back of a head in a dark bar, she is not in this, and regardless of the depth of connection now, we could be unwound from each other at any point.
I find myself paying less attention as I de-age on the TV, becoming a teenager that Katie finds “adorkable” as she says, and then a pre-teen. I am not just watching people who have been dearest to me unwind from my life, but also watching myself unwind, until…
Oh no! I stop zoning out and my attention snaps back in as Dad clicks “BDay and Colorado.”
“Dad, we don’t need to watch that one,” I say. “We can skip these.”

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript.

I pull my cochlear implants out of my pocket and connect them back up. As the flood of background noise rushes into my mind, one thing cuts through it. There are the overlapping variety of Christmas songs, marching bands in the distance, dozens of conversations all wrapping themselves into an unintelligible mess, but one thing rises above that all.
One magnificent, beautiful sound.
Quinn’s voice calling out my name over a loudspeaker echoing through the crowd.
Over the heads of the families, I see the float that was before the boutique’s approaching. Behind it, Quinn must have gotten on our float and used our sound system. Hoping to find me?!
As politely as possible, I push my way between a couple families, apologizing profusely, and step out onto the edge of the street.
There, standing atop our float, is Quinn, microphone in hand, and all of the staff is scanning the crowd.
[co-worker] is the first to see me, and starts pointing and shaking Quinn’s arm.
Quinn’s eyes lock on me and their smile is so much brighter and more beautiful than all the lights of this parade.
They say, their voice echoing off the buildings around us and over the crowd, “Wynne, I should have told you how I felt! I should have never walked away. You are the most beautiful, amazing, glorious person I have ever met. And…”

Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'warm' highlighted.

Rachel chuckles at him. Then pulls me in closer, with her mouth right on my ear. “When I’m working the stage, I might have to ignore him and give you all my attention tonight.” Her breath is warm on my ear. “If you don’t mind.” She gives my ear a playful little peck of a kiss. It sends goosebumps down my arms.
My voice catches, “S-Sounds good to me.”
She steps away, locking eyes with me until the last moment she turns to the audience to start things off.
As our first song begins, my nervousness melts away. I always feel better when playing music. However, something else keeps poking my mind.
Rachel is my best and closest friend. We playfully flirt with each other all the time. On stage, she can play it up more, just the same as she does with Kyle. But that is just for show.
Right?