#i am very sure the OC has a life of its own at this point

[opal-owl-flight]

Can you please tell us more about Neo4. What's their background.

“I need your help.”

Thing is -- I dont exactly own that character! Hes owned by @pastille-pain ... I asked them abt his deets, so here it is under the readmore!

His recruitment by 3 is also under the readmore :) (+more notes abt pre-sploon3)

(From my pal)

My Precious Soy Sauz

Aka croissant

Where he comes from is inkopolis

Lived there his whole life actually. A very sheltered kid due to being raised by grandparents that were in Octaria at one point. So they wanted to make sure nothing really happened to him

An only child but he had his cousin (Nakji, Takoyaki) of the three, he'd be the middle child with Nakji and the youngest.

He's got two friends (three if we count malachite -- the smallfrt) outside of the platoon. Dulce, and (unfortunately) Scara

He dating Melon (oc of mine), we know this

Kinda funny it started as her just battling with him cause he was good but then it turned something more

His time before the platoon was mostly

"Hey are you related to that Sauz idol?" Or "hey, you related to that Sauz wrestler?" It got annoying very quickly so he started introducing himself as croissant and nothing else

Aside from that, if he wasn't turfing he was at home reading or watching shows. Guys a very boring person

He's a pretty big OTH fan...

All this above is still the same even while being apart of the platoon minus the constant questions about his relatives and adding college into the mix

He can do some really cool shit when he's focused (like absolutely demolish competition in turf) but he's also easily distracted so I think you can imagine how that goes

His stress relief is shopping (mostly window shopping, very rarely does he actually buy anything)

He never gets too mad but we know the face if he does

Fun fact, you will never catch this man in pants

Short and anything else

Not pants

The only time he's ever seen wearing pants is in his agent gear and that's cause it's what was given to him.

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

Heres a bonus too, of 3s recruitment of him!

It was a turfing match, and theyve been watching the krak-on user the whole round. They took note of how he responded to stress, to bad calls, and how he acted on his own following calls he had judged as bad. Once it was over, they followed the team into the lobby.

They stand tall against the doorframe theyre leaning against, presence as cold and as commanding as ever.

(Nevermind that Croissant is taller AND older than them, that squid is intimidating as FUCK)

A whistle, calling the team over.

"|May I have a word?|" they sign, "|Ive been watching your team turf for the last few rounds.|"

Scara, the team captain, spits a "Who the FUCK are you."

3s eyebrows raise in surprise. But they should expect it... casual turfers dont usually know their name.

They went to the smaller leagues for a reason. If something happened to a big name in the scene, and its found that they had something to do with it-

No. No. They mentally shake their head. They are NOT picking this person because they are going to be fucking canon fodder.

"|Who I am is not important. Not much, anyway.

I am... interested in one of your teammates.|"

a nod towards Croissant. "|As a krak-on user myself, his performance has impressed me.|"

"Has he now. You seen our losses?? Are you making fun of us??"

"|He has great potential.|" they sign, ignoring the outburst. "|I would like to...|" theres a slight pause. "|...train with him.|"

"I can train my team perfectly, all by myself. Get lost."

They give a cold stare back. "|Im sure that has worked very well for you thus far.|"

The captain didnt seem to want to back down. 3 continues, ear twitching.

"|This request was not aimed towards you, anyway. Im asking him.|"

"BUT-"

"|I want to hear HIS answer.|"

A test. 3 saw that Scara was pushing him around and the only reason they won the match was bc Croissant decided to go his own way. Will he go his own way now?

"Well I know he'll choose to stick with me-"

"Oh I'd love to train with you I like helping others :D"

"You weren't supposed to say that."

3 nods. "|It begins now. Come. We have much to discuss. And as for you.|"

They clack their beak. "|Captain to captain. You need to listen to your teammates more.|"

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

Once they are in a more private space...

"|Training is only one part of the deal.

I apologize for not being upfront. This is a matter of national security, and I cannot mention much about it beyond base.|"

I suppose Croissant hasnt heard...or at least, isnt into much of the so-called Hero of Inkadia thats plastered everywhere in Inkopolis? If he was, hed at least start thinking of all that being like... "wait all that media was based on something real???"

(3 mentioning national security and a base may also inspire thoughts of "wow this squid's a fucking nerd...")

"|You are free to reject my request if you feel unfit for the task at hand. But where are my manners? I have yet to formally introduce myself.

Topside, I am known as FOR3VRFRSH. Here, I am the Captain of the New Squidbeak Splatoon.

I suppose youve heard of such a force...? No?|

Mm.

|Just know that we keep Inkadia more or less safe from nation-destroying threats.|"

He accepts the offer... but he also wasn't thinking too hard on it cause he saw an opportunity to step away from Scara and took it immediately.

3 nods, beckoning him towards the sewer line. As they walked backwards into base, they signed to him. "|From this point onwards, you will be referred to as Agent...Four.|"

Theres a very slight waver of their hand as they signed the number.

"|You show much promise, from what Ive observed in turf. Dont disappoint me.|"

"The only person I disappoint is that guy, but he's just very critical-"*

Theres a glint in 3s eye, a look of amusement... "|...Overly critical is putting it lightly.|"

"I promise to do my best still."

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

3 introduces him as the new Agent 4 and I feel Marie just scrunches her nose a bit. Then sees the look in 3s eye...

To the folks from the regions around 3s home (Callie, Marie, Cuttlefish), theyre not subtle about missing her.

[illarian-rambling]

Hopping on this tag from @happypup-kitcat24 :)

OC Assumption Tag

Share one of your characters' name and a quote from them with zero context and let your followers (or other people who stumble upon your post) make assumptions about said character. You can post about more than one character but only one quote for each one for things to stay out of context.

1) Izjik Meautammera

“My name is Izjik Meautammera and I’m not at all wanted by the wealthy Devaris family of Unity. They won’t give you money for my safe and unconscious return. What I am is End’s avatar. It speaks to me, it controls my actions when it wishes. I have killed spirits and Chosen under its command. Immortality shatters beneath the stone of my washava. I have come here to ask for your help in our ultimate endeavor; destroying the gods and all life on this planet. You, your kid, your dog—it’ll all be dead and gone. So, who, uh, who’s with me?”

2) Sepo Kaiacynthus

“I expect you to fight to the bitter end if that’s what it takes, because you might love your husband, your son, but the people on that ship are the reason I’m here today and if your impatience costs them their lives, then believe me when I say I will turn that city down there into a fiery crater when I rip this damn island out of the sky!”

3) Twenari Undetasib/Devaris

“Something to do with gravitation runes and the density of air. It’s brilliant; they combine the magical with the mechanical and get a miracle. Gods, if I could just get a peek inside one of those fans….”

4) Djek Kagura

“Look, my point is, it’s hard to trust a bleeding heart. You figure that you’re too weak for this world, too sensitive, so you get in tight with someone who knows their shit. Someone smart enough to tangle with society and come out on top. You trust them to make decisions for you because they know better. They’re harder, more practical; they don’t balk when there’s bloody work to be done.... The first step in doing good is to let go of those people. You have to learn to listen to that bleeding heart of yours. It’s not soft, it’s not weak; it makes you who you are. A good woman. One who now has the opportunity to go out and make the world better.”

5) Astra DuClaire

“Nah, but I’ve been listenin’ in on your little chat with my friend here. I know I got you real worried ’bout how I figured out how to preserve a mind and you didn’t. And you’re right to worry, which is why I said it before, but all good messages bear repeatin’, so I’ll say it again. I am better than you.”

6) Mashal Darezsho

“I don’t care! I don’t care if you think I’m nothing more than a stepping stone on your path. I don’t care if you don’t think about me at all! But you will come out here and face me, gods damn it! And I’ll make sure I’m the last thing that ever crosses your fucking mind!”

7) Ivander Montane

“I didn’t come after the Surgeon out of the goodness of my heart. I… I didn’t come here to solve your murder or bring anyone to justice. The Surgeon can strip the magic from a sorcerer. I’ve seen the bodies with my own eyes—yours included. I came here hoping he could take the godly magic from me. ...I told you, I’m a selfish man.”

8) Elsind Cavernsight

“I forgive you, too. Just by knowing you, I can tell that your father was a good man. Not a good ruler maybe, but I can honestly say that I believe both of you did the best you could within the system you inherited. Very few nobles I’ve met were ever so, well, noble.”

8) Avymere Spearsong

“We are not retreating. The longer we take to act, the longer the people of Salis—of all of Skysheer—are held in Vermir’s grasp. Every second we waste means the death of another sorcerer whom it is my duty to protect. We push on.”

I like games like these, so ima call all the homies! Consider yourselves no pressure tagged ;)

@amandacanwrite @elsie-writes @riveriafalll @kosmic-kore @kaylinalexanderbooks

@bard-coded @carrotsinnovember @patternwelded-quill @somethingclevermahogony @whatwewrotepodcast

@the-angriest-author @mk-writes-stuff @frostedlemonwriter @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @watermeezer

@leahnardo-da-veggie @mr-orion @televisionjester @ray-writes-n-shit @evilgabe29

@trippingpossum @tragedycoded @halfbakedspuds @ominous-feychild @cain-e-brookman

@wyked-ao3 @thecomfywriter

[cryptidghostgirl]

heyhey! You said you had a request but couldn’t see it and in case it was mine here i am once again humbling asking you to feed my delusions. I am the same person who asked for the one with the fake dating trope and the one where reader spawns into the lobby :))

But i am here now going for a more angsty route! >:) Granted, this is more of an OC x Alastor but im describing it more generic for the populace BUT HERE GOES

right before “Cover me” reader kept silently glancing over at Alastor which was on the dance floor, subconsciously making him approach her. He goes of course they have a (Important for later) conversation like “I havent seen you around here. Are you new around town?” “Just moved in actually~” “Well, Id love to give you a tour someday, the names Alastor” and he kisses her hand “Ah a charmer, ill have to be careful around you” (OR A MORE ELEGANT CONVERSATION THEN THAT I SUCK AT DIALOGUE) then theres the knife and gun scene and the team up

And then they get together after about a year or two and I dont wanna say theyre legally married but eventually use wife and husband terms because its more fancy and gives them more respect in eyes of others but they have been together for around 5 years at this point.

but then the events of 1925 happen where readers twin brother dies because some bastards set fire to his house and Reader has an argument with Alastor before eventually going alone to avenge her brother (theyre like “theres too many, youll die” “so be it!”)

Reader kills them all (duh) but because it was January and extremely cold she eventually gets hypothermia and during the delusions it gives she stumbles and gets impaled on an abandoned rusty fence spike and dies :3

Alastor find her and gives her a proper burial and 8 years later in 1933 while visiting readers grave he gets shot canonically

But these 8 years gave reader enoigh time in hell to establish her own dominance and due to the life she lived and the death of hypothermia- she gets turned into a sort of blizzard demon. Around 180 cm with black limbs, white fluffy hair and fluffy ears and a white tail as a sinner form and for the demon form im thinking of the faceless Room Guardians by Anyaboz on Instagram (incredible artist btw) with ice powers like summoning weapons and ice spikes and ice touches and moving freely (like Kindred’s wolf in League) in her blizzard. Taking over half the pentagram like this-

Until 1933 when Alastor pops up in hell, does his demon business and eventually wants to check out these frozen parts and goes into a bar very similar to the one they met and sees reader at the table and then THEY HAVE THE EXACT SAME CONVERSATION THEY HAD WHEN THEY FIRST MET (maybe with the knife and gun scene too hehe) and theyre both like “i forgive you” or smth idk maybe they just have a silent agreement- either way.

After they met the blizzard stops and no one knows why or who did it :>, readers identity as the blizzard demon remaining a secret

BTW I LOVE YOU FOR MAKING MY DREAMS COME TRUE- if you want more i have a ton of ideas because brain rot- (also lil side note i kind of imagine reader as albino because it would fit my ocs lore a bit more- but keeping it basic would fit everyones ideas of their own reader so! do what you please you already made my day better by reading my ideas come to life :3))

yes!! i did see yours and it is currently in third place for requests i need to fill so ill probably get it done by this weekend, early next week at the latest. it’s just taking me a bit because i’m in midterms rn and also i want to make sure i get in all the details :) i think it might’ve been a request for alastor’s mom reader x lucifer?? i recall getting one about that but can’t seem to find it anywhere. long story short,, your request is in progress and i will post it as soon as i have the time to finish it up :)

UPDATE: This piece has officially been posted as of Friday February 23rd, 2024.

Frostbite (Alastor x Reader)

[fishedeyelenz]

ANNOUNCEMENT FOR THE BLACK CHRISTMAS FANDOM

Hello everyone who's been following my writing and art and OC's!! Your support has warmed my heart, and got me through some thought times. Thank you very much for sticking by me, commenting, sending me kudos and asks regarding Dilf Billy and my oc-verse I made around him!

However... I have come to realize I have made Billy, at least the older 45-50 year old version of him my own. Very much my own. I think there's a discrepancy between my characterization of him, and how he is portrayed in the movie/novel/commentary. Another thing is that I love him too much. I want to make him my own, not an interpretation of a pre-existing character...

So that's exactly what I am going to do! I'm taking him and making him an OC. Currently I am in the process if changing up his backstory to make him distinct from Billy Lenz, though the Dilf version we see in Rats in the shadows and partially in So give me coffee and tv will stay similar.

My goal is to create a group of ocs consisting of the character formerly known as Billy, Camille, Bean and other side characters who will exist in a story about an ex serial killer father. I'm still early in the rework, but I feel like I don't have change too much.

What this means I will effectively be distancing myself at least partially from the Black Christmas fandom, at least in terms of my content creation though these past few months I have been in a rut given college preoccupying most of my time. I still love Black Christmas, it will remain one of my favorite movies forever. I cherish the friends I made and the experiences I had, but I want to move on to more original creations, uninhibited by primary existing source materials.

I will still interact with fan works in terms of reblogging art and writing , and I will most likely draw more of Billy Lenz and the other characters from the movie in the future. Anything regarding Camille, Bean, "dilf Billy" though, will be something divorced from Black Christmas, entirely its own thing, though obviously inspired by it.

Will I return to writing for Black Christmas? At this point I am uncertain. I have a WIP of a priest!au thing for Dilf Billy, which if I ever get around to finishing I would post under the pretense that it's a Black Christmas fanwork. However, I am not sure if I will finish it, given that I don't really have the time, and at the moment motivation to really work on it. Another story idea exists too, one which would better fit into the Black Christmas ethos with is very dark tone and heavy subject matter (while still remaining a smut work) which I would gladly have exist as a fanwork.... But once again I am lacking the time and want to do it. It would be a very big project, all things considered.

So what now? I will keep all my Billy Lenz/Dilf Billy content up on my blog, my AO3 will stay intact (though I will forward this announcement onto there), and I won't change my tags on Dilf Billy related posts. Moving forward, though, everything created for my oc inspired by Billy Lenz/Dilf Billy Lenz will be tagged as that. I need to come up with a new name for him first...

I will also make a post regarding how the plot of Rits/Sgmcatv would have went if I'd finished them, to give you guys some sort of conclusion. Though the new oc story with Bean, Camille and the new Billy oc in it will very closely follow Rits original storyline. Most of the events of Rits are canon still in regards to Camille's and Bean's backstory, with of course some caveats (no Brahms, Camille and "Billy" meet differently etc.). But the large majority of the plot points and story beats are the same.

I will be happy to answer any further questions, as my inbox is open. I'm sorry to disappoint anyone, but I've felt the need to move on, to elevate this story. I hope I can be forgiven. Now I bid farewell to this part of my life and creative era, and look forward to the new.

[quitealotofsodapop]

I wanna introduce y'all to an oc/story concept I've had for a while now.

Oc created using the "Bright's Picrew Hell" since I am terrible at drawing.

Basically its a parody and deconstruction of an Isekai story - aka "character is teleported/reincarnated into another world" (for example KonoSuba, That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Digimon etc.)

The main character of this idea is Sekai Ishida; a gloomy shut-in with cerebral palsy and spinal bifida who's dealing with having aged out of the foster system and finding supports for his disability. Sekai was minding his own business going to career training when;

Sekai, being physically disabled, is unable to climb out of the way of a speeding subway car when he stumbles (or was tripped) onto the tracks. He closes his eyes.

He awakens to find himself dumped through a portal to a magical fantasy world.

When the many gods greeting him in the space between worlds ask him if he wishes for a boon to bring with him into this new life; Sekai impulsively replies "Give me back my crutches."

Well shit now he's just some Japanese guy with severe mobility issues in a dnd-inspired medieval kingdom with no fighting experience or magical add-on. What's a guy to do?

Wormwood; an Aberrant demon looking for a host: "

Wormwood: "Hey you wanna-" Sekai, already fed-up: "Whatever, sure." (*shakes hand*) Wormwood: "Damn, ok. Didn't even need a sales pitch." Workwood: (*painfully merges into Sekai's body*) Wormwood: "...damn bitch, you live like this?" Sekai: "Yeah." Wormwood: "I can't even look into parts of your brain." Sekai: "Yeah those don't work." Wormwood: "Screw this, I'm finding another off-worlder for my plans." (*nothing happens*) Wormwood: "...why can't I leave?" Sekai: "HAH! You're trapped in here with me!" Wormwood, tentacles waving frantically: "I can't even move your legs!" Sekai, gestures to crutches, laughing manically: "Neither can I!" Wormwood: "You are evil."

So now Sekai has one thing going for him; an inky symbiote-esque demon thats trapped in his body that's pretty keen on keeping Sekai alive. For now.

Also, you know how the demon mentioned "off-worlders"?

Yeah. Sekai isn't the only one.

It's a frequent phenomena in the magical kingdom, to the point that there are new laws in place to deal with people that fall through.

Notably:

Report immediately to the King.

Surrender all technology and/or organics to the crown.

Any accompanying animals will be quarantined or destroyed.

If it looks like nothing fell out of a portal hole - no it didn't. Evacuate the area immediately.

Off-Worlders should avoid making deals with spirit and/or demons, as they are an untapped source of raw magical life force (Sekai: "Oops"), and can cause the world around them to glitch and break down since they're essentially aliens.

Its not always human either. Dogs, cats, birds, and trilobites frequently wander/fall in. Imagine the utter terror of villagers used to dragon when they see a saltwater crocodile for the first time.

It's not always humans or organic things that fall in though. Like in Digimon where a subway car or a fridge full of eggs would randomly glitch in.

The ultimate common denominator is people and things that have experienced "glitches in the matrix"-style disappearances and have just... disappeared back in their home time/dimension. Oh yeah, people from completely different cultures and universes can fall through too.

Sekai (and his tag-along wormwood) occassionally fall into other universes due to Wormwood's own research into interdimensional travel. It was the very reason he sought out a host - someone proven to be able to handle the trip. Sekai hates this. HATES THIS. Let him have junk food and video games again!

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 330. brb x oc

a/n: THIS BETTER POST OR I SWEAR TO GOD(comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: OH BOY ROOSTER IS HIS OWN WARNING

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322/323/324/325/326/327/328/329

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca @callsign-magnolia

-

He licks his fingers clean of syrup with his eyes on her, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek as she helps Nikki cut her waffle. She felt her cheeks warm up as her husband just keeps his gaze on her, “Brad.” she tries to snap him out of it, “You are staring.”

“Mhm,” he pops a finger out, “Sure am.”

And she huffs, clearing her throat as she gives Nikki a small piece, the one year old was famished ever since she discovered waffles. “Anyway,”she continues,wiping the crumbs that stuck to Nikki’s face, “You going to meet Pete today?” he hums, propping his head up with a hand as he follows the curves on her body appreciatively.

“Hmmmm,maybe.” he is still reliving his welcome gift as he sees the very faint panty line under her shorts, was it the red one? He meets her eyes and Beatrice is even redder when he sees her face, “I mean, I’d like to see him…maybe I’ll take the kids with me.”

“Well,” and she automatically tugs her shorts a bit, “He hasn’t seen the twins in a while, or Nikki for that matter. I think he’ll like the visit.” and his eyes remained, hungrily traveling from her face to hips, while chewing his breakfast slowly.

“I like those shorts.”

She blinks,incredulously,at him, ‘Brad.”

He points at the white details on the legs with his fork, “Love how it goes,” and he moves the fork in a curve, clearly representing the curve of her ass, “Its nice.”

Rooster's gaze remained fixated on Beatrice, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he continued to appreciate the subtle details of her whole self. Beatrice, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, cleared her throat and shifted her attention to Nikki, who was thoroughly enjoying her waffle.

"Thanks for the fashion commentary, Roos. I'll be sure to take it into account for my next wardrobe choice," Beatrice teased albeit her cheeks remained red.

Rooster chuckled, reaching for his coffee. "Just stating the facts, Bea. Gotta appreciate the finer things in life."

More sputtering so he decided to finally reply as normal as he could, “Yeah, I think he has…a lot of questions because of the whole shitbag that happened.” he sips his coffee. “A whole bag of ass, really.”

Nicole went ‘aaa’ while moving forward in hopes to get the silicone spoon as her mother brought it closer, clamping her mouth around it and chewing her breakfast with a little grin, “I mean,” Beatrice begins, not taking her eyes off of Nikki, wiping her face again, “It was very messy Roos. Mark and….well…why did he do that anyway? Jealousy?”

Rooster leaned back in his chair, his expression growing serious as he considered Beatrice's question. "Jealousy, ego, a twisted sense of entitlement—I think it was a mix of all that. “

“But…he was really focused on you Roos. Just like Miranda was to me.”

"Yeah, it was like he couldn't stand the idea of me, I don’t know, not needing Pete’s influence to go up in my career?I mean,the jealousy consumed him, and he thought he could control everything and everyone around him."

Beatrice nodded solemnly, her focus shifting between Nikki and Rooster. "It's scary how people can get so fixated, obsessive? But you handled it well, Roos. And you are safe."

He offered a small smile, his eyes softening. "Course I am,gorgeous.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, the weight of the recent challenges mingling with the warmth of their shared understanding. Nikki, seemingly oblivious to the gravity of the conversation, continued to enjoy her waffle, occasionally babbling.

Beatrice, breaking the silence, asked, "Do you think Pete will have a hard time understanding the situation?"

Rooster contemplated for a moment before responding, "He might. But Pete is Pete, he just wants to make sure we are okay.” he rubs the pad of his thumb on the mug’s lip, “He wasn’t notified of anything when I was deployed, Cyclone wanted it within the group and to some higher ups.”

She nodded in understanding, her fingers gently tapping against the edge of the table. "That makes sense. Considering Mark’s aunt is one of them…is she an admiral?”

Rooster nodded, confirming her question. "Yeah, she's an admiral. It complicated things, a lot.”

“Is she going to be kicked out?”

Oh,how he loved when Bea asked things like this, the little hesitation in her tone because, while she is married to him - a Navy pilot- and has friends in the Navy AND works at a predominantly Navy bar…she still has her questions. “...I’m going to go over there and kiss you.”

“Huh?”

“You are to fuckin’ precious and I love you so much.” he smirks, sipping his coffee as she gives him a look, a confused one. “You look surprised because I said that.”

“I’m not complaining,honey,” oh, the endearing names, fuck she was the death of him through and through, “You are just getting distracted a lot.” but that little smile showed that she clearly didn’t mind.

Nicole however, did care.

She looked between her parents, Rooster to Bea then Bea to Rooster, then tapped Beatice’s wrist, “Mama.” she coos, trying to tug the hand holding the spoon towards her, a piece of waffle still sticking to it.

“Oh,oh I’m sorry honey,mama got…” they met eyes, “Distracted.” 

Rooster smirks, ring and pinky finger curled against his jaw, thumb helping it up while his index and middle finger were on his cheekbone and temple, head tilted just a bit. She mouths ‘stop it’ and he replies ‘make me.’ with his eyes dropping down her body again.

“Aaa! Woffe!” and if Nikki was an emoji she’d be the personification of ‘>:(‘ because the spoon was inches away from her face and her little light brows scrunched as she tried to take a bite.

“Sorry sweetie, oh,” finally,the waffle was eaten and Bea gave him a look, pointing her finger at him, “You are so terrible.”

“Mmmmmhm.” he smiles, elongating his words as if he was oh so very pleased by that statement, squinting his eyes a bit, “I am. You know I am.” he does,however, sip the final drops of his coffee and stands up, walking over the sink, “But I’ll leave the two of you alone and check on the twins and talk to Mav.”

He stands behind her chair and kisses the top of her head, inhaling the lavender in her hair, “I love you.”

She slowly looked up at him, and smiled back, “I love you too.” he leans down to peck her lips twice, tasting the cherry lip gloss and then kissing Nicole’s head before he walks away.

Rooster's departure left a lingering warmth in the room, it was like he was the fireplace warming up the entire room. "Mama," Nikki babbled, her tiny fingers reaching for the remaining pieces of waffle on the plate. Beatrice chuckled, realizing that she might have to employ some strategic maneuvers to prevent another distraction.

"Mama's here, sweetheart," Beatrice reassured, gently wiping Nikki's face with a napkin. "Let's get you cleaned up so you can enjoy the rest of your breakfast."

-

Rooster drove the three kids to Mav’s place, Nicole was older, so she knew the route already - she was one year old but still - and the twins were busy looking around. He also took notice of how different the three babies were.

Nicole was talkative and she was very smart. She liked looking around and liked to touch people’s hands if she knows them…she also couldn’t hide her stank face, if she disliked you,she’d show.

While the twins were just a few months old, it was easy to see how different they were: Gavin was quiet, he liked snuggling up to his parents’ necks, he also liked to play with Beatrice’s hair and Rooster’s mustache, never tugging, just gently grabbing the pieces of hair.

Aurora, on the other hand, was very active. She liked to look around and move her neck and while neither her or Gavin could crawl yet, she sure would like to. Aurora also was louder than her sibling, she babbled a lot more and she had these moments where she’d just want to grab any piece of clothing of jewelry you had close by.

Rooster navigated the familiar streets, each turn bringing them closer to Mav's place. Nicole, ever the precocious one, sat in the back seat, enthusiastically pointing out landmarks she recognized,”Gampa Mav!”

“That’s right honey, we are going to see Mav.” he smiles as he turns the Bronco as soon as he sees Maverick waiting for them by the sidewalk.

Rooster parked the Bronco, and before he could even unbuckle his seatbelt, Nicole had already noticed him, her excitement palpable. "Gampa Mav!" she exclaimed, trying to get rid of the booster seat to see him better.

“Hey kiddo,woah!” he smiles down at Gavin, who was closest to the door he just opened, “Look at those two! Hey little guy!

The baby, with wide curious eyes, blinked up at him as if assessing this man yet again. Maverick gently tickled Gavin's tiny fingers, eliciting a soft coo from the infant.

"Hey there, little buddy. Did you bring the chaos with you?" Mav teased, glancing over at Rooster, who was in the process of helping Aurora out of her car seat.

Rooster chuckled, "You bet, Mav. The whole Bradshaw Circus is in town today."

As Rooster carefully lifted Aurora from the car seat, she greeted Mav with a gleeful babble, tiny hands reaching out toward him. Mav shifted his attention, expertly juggling between the little ones vying for his attention.

Nicole, having successfully freed herself from the booster seat -which was NOT helped by Rooster at all -, practically leaped out of the car. "Gampa Mav!" she declared,then poked her tongue out and stood there.She was clearly showing him this amazing thing she could do.

Mav stood up, arching his brow "Well, look at that! You're getting so big, Nikki. Soon you'll be teaching me the tricks."

She giggled, thoroughly pleased with the compliment. Rooster, now holding both Aurora and Gavin so Mav could pick Nicole up,smiled. "You ready for this, Mav? They've got energy to spare today."

Mav ruffled Nicole's hair, exchanging a glance with Rooster. "Always ready for the circus, Brad. Let the games begin. Come on in."

They made their way into Mav's house, laughter and tiny footsteps echoing through the air and Nikki quickly sat on the couch. "Sit wherever you like, folks. Make yourselves at home," Mav announced, “Nikki got the couch.”

Rooster settled Aurora and Gavin in a playpen Mav had set up in the living room. The twins, wide-eyed and curious, took in their surroundings with infant wonder.

Maverick looked back at Rooster, “Want a drink? Nothing heavy of course.”

Rooster nodded appreciatively, "Sure, Mav,no beer though.”

Maverick headed towards the kitchen, leaving Rooster to keep an eye on the twins. Nicole, still perched proudly on the couch, gestured for Rooster to join her. "Dada, sit!"

Rooster chuckled, walking over to the couch and sitting beside Nicole. "I’m here birdie,’ her tiny,minuscule hand on his and tapped his palm repeatedly, “You happy seeing grandpa Mav?”

“Yeeeaaa!!”

Maverick returned with a tray bearing a jug of iced tea and a few glasses. He placed it on the coffee table, glancing at the twins who were now engrossed in the colorful toys scattered across the playpen.

"Here we go," Mav announced, pouring iced tea into the glasses. "Nothing heavy, just some good old sweet tea. Help yourselves."

“I didn’t know you knew how to make sweet tea?”

“It’s not that hard,Rooster.”

Rooster chuckled, accepting the glass from Mav. "Well, I'm just used to seeing you with a beer in hand. Sweet tea is a pleasant change."

Mav took a sip of his own drink, settling into a chair across from Rooster and Nicole. The room was filled with the light-hearted chatter of the kids, the tinkling laughter of Nicole being the most prominent.

As they enjoyed their drinks, Mav glanced over at the twins. "They're growing fast, aren't they?"

Rooster nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Yeah, faster than I thought possible. Feels like just yesterday we found out Bea was pregnant.”

Maverick's gaze softened. "Time flies. Before you know it, they'll be running around causing mischief like Nikki here."

Nicole, overhearing her name, giggled…mischievously. "Mischief!"

Rooster ruffled her hair, a fond smile on his face. "That's right, birdie. You're the queen of mischief."

Mav joined in the laughter, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To mischief and mayhem, the Bradshaw way." he waits until Rooster drinks, “...how are you?”

Rooster leaned back on the couch, savoring the sweet tea, and studied Mav for a moment. The question hung in the air, pregnant with unspoken understanding. After a thoughtful sip, Rooster exhaled, a mixture of fatigue and relief evident in his expression.

"I’m better, Mav," he admitted, his gaze drifting to the playpen where Aurora and Gavin were discovering the joys of colorful blocks. "It's been a tough stretch out there. But being back home, it's like a breath of fresh air."

Mav nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I heard about the investigation. About Mark.”

Rooster's gaze flickered  and he took another sip of the sweet tea, the cool liquid offering a brief respite from the weight of recent memories. "Yeah, Mark's been a piece of work. Complicated situation, you know?"

"You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready, Rooster. But if you need an ear, I'm here."

The gratitude in Rooster's eyes was palpable. "I appreciate that, Mav. It's just... It's been a lot to process. Everything with the investigation, the uncertainty. It took a toll."

Mav placed a supportive hand on Rooster's shoulder. "You've been through the wringer, kid. I can only imagine. But you made it back.”

“What did you hear though? I thought Cyclone kept most under wraps.”

Maverick sipped his tea, then pursed his lips, “You think I wouldn’t know?” Maverick leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. "Cyclone did keep things under wraps, but you know how these things go. Whispers find their way, especially in a close-knit community like ours. People talk, and it's hard to keep the lid on everything."

"I get it. So, what did you hear?"

Mav sighed, choosing his words carefully. "Internal Affairs, and the FBI sniffing around. It's a mess, Rooster. And I heard they've got some evidence that ties him to some pretty ugly stuff."

Rooster's jaw tightened, the reality of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. "Figures. Fuck-" he peeks at Nikki who was busy running her finger on the patterns of Mav’s vouch “--flipping wild.”

“And of course, his aunt is involved too,so,”Mav shrugs, “It’ll be flipping wild for a while.”

“...you know what.”

“What?”

Rooster huffs through his nose, “Wanna drink later at home? I feel like I need it, really.” he frowns, “Really,really.”

[doukeshi-kun]

hiii keshi!! this is my first ask to you ever so i really hope tumblr doesn’t eat it !! i wanted to ask you a question about writing if thats okay with you but before i do i’d just like to tell you that your stalker kolya fic actually changed the wiring of my brain lol it was SO good!! i remembered reading it on the train when it first came out and being SOOOO devastated that i had no one to talk to about it!! its my all time favorite nikolai fic and i’d just like to tell you that <3

anyways!! my question to you is; is it normal to spend a long time on writing fics? 😭 it sounds like a very stupid question (trust me, i know) but it’s kind of been itching at my brain for a while now. so basically i’m writing this gojo x reader/OC fanfic (i dunno if you’re that into jjk or not) but its supposed to be in first person POV and a long fic having at least 20-25 chapters.. i have an idea of what i want it to be like, plans of subtle foreshadowing, backstories, plot points but i’m not really sure if these things should be taking up so much of my time 😭 it took me a day to plan out the first chapter and i’ve only gotten 20% of it done so far. I usually need a whole day to write 3000 words (i struggle) while i always see most writers posting about being able to finish a whole 6k words oneshots (which is SUCH a talent).

is it something that gets easier the more you write?? i’ve been writing for 5-6 years since i started at 13. what can i do to improve this?? or is it a case of ‘not every writer is the same’??

i’ve never talked to another writer before, never thought about reaching out to anyone but today i feel like i kinda do need someone elses opinion with this 💔 i’m so so sorry for the long ramble, it’s difficult for me to simply things <3333 absolutely love your work <3

haiii thank you so much for the kind comments ❤️ you can always talk about stalker nikolai with me hehe

so, to answer, yes it is totally normal to spend a long time for a fic! and you're planning to do a long fic that has like, 20-25 chapters, so it's totally normal for your planning to take some time. this is the case of "not every writer is the same"

take me, for example. i need at least two weeks to write a fic for stalker nikolai. and there was one time i had to take about almost 2-months for a trash sugar magic's chapter. and now, i can only post once a month because i need more time and i am also busy with other stuff in life.

so 3k words a day is very impressive! hells, 1k a day is also impressive. personally, there really is nothing to improve because you are working on YOUR own pace. i think, rushing to get a fic done will give more harm than good (for example, you might get easily burnt out or you feel obligated to keep posting in such a short period)

take your time, plan out your fic, write what you can and don't worry about whether you're a fast writer or not. you're still a writer ❤️

goodluck on your fic! 🫶

[bibibbon]

Hi! So I've been reading posts regarding my hero academia criticals since they've caught my interest, and I'm at it, I've stumbled upon your posts and account and...

Oh my gosh!!

I did not expect this series to go this bad😬😬😬 and I didn't want to watch the full episodes of the series since the debut of some of the characters like Bakugou and Endeavour, as I'm not a fan of them since their character traits really grinds my gears a lot (Bullying and the 'S' Baiting for Bakugo and Familial Abuse from Endeavour) and I only convinced my self that I'll watch it if they have some sort of consequences... But the series seems to their treat is as a joke or praised them for doing the bare minimum. And I Hate It😬😒😭😫

And because of this, I kinda wanted to write my own fanfiction about this series - as it was inspired by some of the authors I've read and seen on other social media platforms like Instagram for even design their OC's and how they would fit into the canon universe - to somehow address some of the issues here and there, while also giving Izuku the love, care, and support he deserves.

So yeah, enough of the rambling. I just wanted to ask you if it's alright for me to use the canon universe with its flaws to be pointed out by some of the characters - they are mostly OC's and one of them is my fanfic protagonist or something else, (I want to write Bakugou being the bully he is or endeavour rotting in jail for life😈😈😈)

And I don't where to start, to make this ask short (it's so long now, wow sorry about that) I want you to list what you think are the most glaring issues of the series in a summary form or anything that makes you comfortable and what sort of things and factors I need to consider. It's mostly just for reference for my fanfictions and I would give you full credit for all of this. It is also my very first writing project and I want it to be perfect when I'll officially publish it online.

So yeah, that's all. Thanks so much for reading this long-ass ask and I wish you the very best. Thank you again🥰🥰🥰

No problem I don't mind long asks but it just takes me longer to answer them sometimes!

Fanfiction and the realm of fics tends to be a very legal grey space and it's partially the reason why making fanfics into books can sometimes be very controversial. In my opinion there's no problem in using the MHA world to inspire your own story and even take elements of it however, I am not the creator of MHA so I can't give a definitive answer but I can say that when you decide to post your story do credit the author of mha!

Now onto the list!

Give victim characters agency and autonomy through the story

Give proper concequences to the oc's you create that maybe similar to enji and bakugo

Address societal issues of your stories using various elements

Make sure to use show and tell

Focus on the pacing of the story

If you're planning on redeeming certain characters please humanise them

Add to the worldbuiling. If your story is going to have superpowers and such please add to the law side of the universe

I think these are probably my most glaring issues but the one that makes me bothered the most is characters not getting proper concequences and the lack of properly addressing societal issues that MHA has.

Now I think it's better for you to hear others opinions as well since my list is far from perfect. So if @mikeellee @doodlegirl1998 @sapphic-agent @palesweetscherryblossom @nutzgunray-lvt @moonsb1996 @theloganator101 @tardigradetheking @amethystoceandespiser or anyone else who I haven't tagged wants to add more to the list please reblog this and add your own opinions.

[xmaveria]

This is all you need to know about me, perhaps I really am a bird :0!!

Its surprising I didn't feel like I did much this year with ocs but turns out I had more art I wanted to include!

I hope you all enjoy a bit of an art & artist recap! Time has flown by so fast but in a good way it surprises me how productive I still was despite having less computer time. Things are surely busy I suppose with being an adult that is a norm. Yet I am hopeful for next year. One thing I am proud of is how mentally things have been going up or stable? For me at least for a few years back I genuinely wanted to skip my life no matter what didn't feel like there was much point in looking up at it when so many things impede you for just existing somewhere else. I couldn't care less if I missed "a life" events with family, peers and opportunities as such to the point I was to be in auto pilot until everything fell where it needed to even if it took 5,10,40 years and I could finally "live my life" and not feel any anguish over big burdens or dreams. Yet nowadays I can't help but find myself happy for weekly events or tiny moments a spur of inspiration gives me ^^ Slowly and as corny as it sounds life should be lived in the moment and even if some things still want me to not succeed whether people or systems I shall make the best of it. Hay que ir de dia a dia! Quien dijo miedo cuando ya uno esta en la boca del tigre!

I believe that reflects so much in one's art. And with a better mental state well I've been the most productive in AF I did better than when I had free afternoons every day and with a tighter schedule xD Although this year also made me realize how nice it is to be able to hold your own art space per say, share ideas with other creatives get inspired on the same subjects. Truly thank you all for the support and engagement I know lately things have been dealt hard with online artists but to those that still stick around and share what fills their hearts content are the life blood of the art community in every platform. So thank you to the people passing by and appreciating my art once or twice. EVEN MORE to my followers here and everywhere else I have grown as a professional artists these years as well with your help and kindness that I will forever remember (also the fact that you all like to see and comment on my blorbos or silly thoughts/aesthetics? makes me overjoyed haha) AND TO MY FRIENDS YOU ALL KNOW THE MVPS OF ALL THIS TY FOR BEING HERE there has never been a dull year for me interacting with you all and getting to know more about the art and characters you all have <3 Thanks for reading this o/ Enjoy the holidays and have a great time however you like to spend it, and to those also going through similar things try to treat yourself in any way you can. Wishing things get easier for you at some point very soon!

[the-cheapskateler-show]

“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a very important message…”

((Everything beyond this point is out of character!!))

Hello everyone, Cheapmod here! Many of you reading this probably have not met me, so hello! Nice to meet you! 👋 You can call me Py if you’d like!

Right off the bat, I just want to make sure nobody worries since this post got kinda long. Here’s the gist of it!: Cheap’s blog is going to be continuing! It has not ended, and it won’t be for some time. I want to thank you all for sticking around and giving this blog so much love, and I encourage you to seek out additional askblogs you would enjoy cause there are many out there to love!

Okay with that out of the way, some further context for that and other things I just wanted to take the chance to say while I’m speaking out of character.

First, Im so sorry to anybody who’s been worried about Cheap, the state of this blog or me. I promise, we are both okay and this blog is continuing!

I just took an unanounced break from ALL my projects to focus on approaching art and writing more healthily. I was on break for longer than I thought I might be but I have not stopped thinking of Cheap and all of you out there. I am planning on returning to bring Cheap back to everyone soon! As a heads up, I will be experimenting more with the art style for this blog just to see if I can make things a little more quick and fun for myself!

As for the esteemed host of the show, Cheap is doing just fine! Nothing has happened to him since the last update. I would like to note that the real life passage of time will not always affect him. I will need to take breaks like this every now and then for my own sake and other priorities. If that happens, we will generally pick up right where we left off! I’ve also got many fun and interesting things planned for this blog, so I couldn’t possibly stay away for too long!

Now for something very important…you guys!!

I cannot thank you all enough for the incredible reception Cheap has recieved!! It means so much more to me than I can possibly express in words and seeing every last bit of it has really warmed my heart 🥺 Thats why its very important that I come back and make sure all the wonderful questions, comments and compliments you’ve sent in are responded to and addressed in time!!

As WELL I am so delighted that I have been seeing some incredible pieces of fanart from you guys!!!! I REALLY want to thank you each individually as i have been doing so far!! The reason I haven’t said anything yet about any fanart is because I want to give each one the dedicated attention it deserves!!! And that will be coming soon and coming first with the continuation of the little intermission we started on for giving these works a highlight!

All fanmade creations will be tagged as: #viewer-art-showcase! and I encourage everyone to check out the pieces there and especially the artists behind them!! I will be providing a link to this tag for easy access in blog description soon after this post goes up.

Another thing I’d like to mention before I wrap up here is I am posting this on an significant day for Cheap! On this day, Nov. 26th 11 years ago, I started Cheap’s first blog! With some hiatuses and pauses in-between, Cheap will have been around for 11 years. I can hardly believe it! I’m very happy to be running his blog again with this little revival here and Im so happy I made a character who has had a chance to develop so much and endured as one of my favorite OCs. It is in large part thanks to all the support and attention he’s received through all these years across all his blogs that I bring him to you all today and im so grateful to all new and longterm fans. I hope you will all continue to enjoy Cheap’s shenanigans as much as I do! Thank you!!

Lastly, I just want to encourage everyone reading this to check out ANY of the other ask-blogs that Cheap interacts with on here! I realized its not very easy to visit these blogs due to the way i’m answering asks with screenshots, so I will go back and provide @ mentions and links to previous posts.

But better yet, there are SO many awesome askblogs out there to discover well outside his blog so make sure you don’t miss them!! A great place to check out is the #lerkimpails tag for new and returning askblogs! If there are any other newer specific tags for askblogs in use that you know of, feel free to drop those in the replies of this post-im still a bit of a fandom oldie here… heh heh.

There are so many creative askblogs out there to discover and meet and they can all always use more attention and asks. This fandom and even this little corner of it are what they are because of the collective efforts of everyone on this platform inspiring and supporting one another, so be sure to make others feel welcome and appreciated and just go enjoy what they have to offer!!

Thank you everyone for reading this far! I mostly want to leave the hosting on this blog to Cheap, so there wont be many OOC posts like this, unless theres anything i really gotta clarify. Still, you will find me around in the tags now and then for sure. 🦋✨

We will get this show a-rolling again real soon! Hope to see you all then!

Cheapmod-Py

[trellia]

I think this post is a long time coming. But also, maybe 1 - someone has pointers to help and 2 - maybe someone else is struggling similarly and would like to know said pointers too.

I have been quite the recluse the past few months. From everyone, really. Why that is why I’m making this post. If you feel like I’ve been drawing away, you’re not wrong. I have. I’ve not been doing too good since… I’d say October. A lot of events have turned my world around for one, realizing what I am living in and not what I thought I was living in. That was something on its own…. At the same time, I was going through the steps to figure out if I have ADHD. I found out a couple months ago that yes, indeed, I do have ADHD.

The diagnosis was first a relief: finally, I now know there’s nothing wrong with me, I’m just wired different. However, relief soon turned into contempt. I became very, very angry. I am very angry. I just reached my 40’s. For at least 35+ years, I’ve been degraded and hurt by the people who should have protected me, understood me, especially in my childhood. Teachers, principals and parents of other children took part in this bullying campaign their children had going, only because I wasn’t following the ‘norms’. I endured trauma so great that I can barely function today.

I mean, I look at the videos of my childhood and I see it immediately: I’m not like the other kids. I’m more hyper, excited, and I just want everyone to take part in the fun, but I’m too much for it. It’s right there. I was called names by adults, and scolded for not doing things the way neurotypical people would. I was called lazy. I was told I don’t care for anyone but myself when, in fact, I have always put everyone ahead of me because I would rather see them happy than be happy myself. So you can imagine how difficult it was to hear that I am selfish and don’t care for anyone else…

I’m also angry at the current people in my life. Some of which have told me to ‘fix’ myself because I was an inconvenience they didn’t want to deal with. So I tried EVERY way to do so, and of course that didn’t work because I was trying to put bandaids on symptoms rather than help with what was the actual problem, but then when I asked for help, I was shunned away like I didn’t deserve it. I lost an entire decade (my late 20’s and my 30’s) asking myself what the hell is wrong with me, why am I such a terrible person, and why can’t I do anything right, and spending my 30’s walking on eggshells everywhere AND in the rpc because I was connection deprived and needed everyone to love me, which led to nefarious people taking advantage and hurt me further. (that’s a post for another day.)

Now here’s the main problem: I’m so angry I want to hurt someone. Not physically, but in every other way. It doesn’t matter who you are, I just want to lash out, whoever you are, friend or otherwise. An example: a friend made a new original character that is actually perfectly fine and pretty good, it’s a great OC! — but inside all I want to do is destroy that break their love for the OC and ruin it for them. Just… because. And that’s NOT okay. The good news is that I see it, I realize it. Which is why I have isolated myself. None of my friends deserve this. But I am angry. I am enraged, because I feel I’ve lost most of my life ‘fixing’ myself until I masked so hard I didn’t even realize until it slipped at 28. I know exactly when it slipped too.

Also, considering the kind of world we live in, I feel like I’ve lived past the mid-mark of my life. I’m not sure I’ll live up to 50 at this point. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair at all that I had to go through all this and still suffer. So yes, I’m very angry. But I also don’t WANT to hurt anyone. Especially not the people I care for… This is why I have not been on disco.rd. I have removed FB (because I wanted to for a long time tho lol ), tiktok… And have mostly removed myself from public spaces.

If you have pointers or ideas on how to get past that anger, please, please share. I don’t really know what to do with it. I don’t know how to tame it. And it scares me tbh. I don’t want to be like this. This isn’t me… but it’s so hard not to be angry…

So… yah: if I don’t respond on disco or otherwise, or not right away, it’s not you, I’m the one stepping away so I won’t say something I really don’t mean just for the sake of harming someone because I can’t accept what has been done to me.

If you read this far, thank you. Otherwise, here’s the jinx of it:

tldr; I was officially diagnosed with ADHD and realized I’ve been treated terribly by my peers because of it and shunned away when I asked for help, so now I’m extremely angry at everything and want to hurt someone (anyone) though I don’t really want to. How do I get over this?

[51-queer-frogs]

Hi! Hello! Tell me about your OCs! Especially the cool multi-eyed fluffy creature with six eyes! I love multi eyed critters!

Oh boy

okay so! Spirit is an oc I created a longg time ago, who's story had changed a lot over the years. We're gonna do a history

wayyy back in about 2018 I did a shitty re-color of a drawing of wolf link. while both the original shitty re color is gone, I have re-found the original by Teddie4Ever01 on deviant art. that's where the earring comes from, and it's one of the few aspects that has stuck around. to quote myself from six years ago "this is my oc its a link wolf possed by a dragon ( it can grow wings ). " I was young and the dragon bit was gone in about two weeks, but it will come back later.

SO

I am guessing, at least a little bit here, because six years ago but the original lore was as follows; There were 5 different colored magic space stones all of which had slightly different powers. Spirit had the purple one (of course) and I'm not sure what it's power was. ANother character, Shadow, (below spirit ref) had the blue and it made blue fire. I'm sure there was more, but I don't remember. at the time, Spirit looked something like this

which, y'know, it a good design if it wasn't stolen. note that I never drew the wings because I was lazy and also everything I drew at that point was traced in some way or another. (aka why I'm not showing the original drawings.)

now the next design stayed around for a bit, but I don't really have any writing on lore from that time. anyways the sheet I used to make it was by sm0shy on fur affinity, and it looked like this

Now finally we've settled on a design ! this was the sheet I used for almost every commission I made, including my old icon. from here on out we'll just be talking about lore. At this point, while I hadn't completely abandoned the magic elemental space rocks, I did add some new characters to the mix which is where we meet ember and moondrop, who use the same base

to quote me again "her name is Moondrop and she is actually social unlike shadow and spirit she loves everyone but Ember because of emotional trauma the flower can not leave her ear or she will be sick until it is returned" which, okay sure. BUT THEN for ember i said "a beta wolf who used to be in the same pack as moonshine . she was very strict especially towards moonshine at one point moonshine messed up a cache and and was very badly treated by Ember for ages." what! we're using fucking warrior dogs now! great! okay! yeah that didn't stick around. SO here's where written records are uh.. completely gone. yeah. no more of those. lore has died. I have old drawings, but I do remeber that shadow fell out of use, and Spirit, Ember and Moondrop became a trio the image below is the only one i have from before a real life time skip of like a year.

Alright, we have writing again, along with pictures! grabbed my old sketchbook for this.

The text (not in photo) reads Moondrop was born in 17839-F while her cause of death is unknown she currently lives because of the world tree, and is it's caretaker. She treats every leaf as it's own being, and the flower on her head is directly tied to the tree as well.

Ember was born in 1839-H her life was normal until her forest caught fire. The pack ran out, but one pup was trapped inside. she ran back in and threw the pup out, saving it's life. the last her pack saw of her was two days later, as she flew overhead on a brand new pair of flaming wings.

Okay. Alright. I remember (kind of) where we are now. At this point the lore went as follows. Moondrop and Ember were opposites with an unclear relationship (see I called it friends then but they were either siblings or dating, don't remember) Ember was a (possibly the) god of fire, And Moondrop was the god of nature. Spirit, on the other hand, (i think) was the god of death. The three of them were re-incarnated to find each other again and again, no matter the timeline, which is what those numerical codes are about. The rocks are completely gone at this point, good riddance. from here the three stagnate. For a good couple of years. They go on adventures. whatever. Exempt! and here come yet another side tangent!

GENDER CRISIS

So for years at this point I'd gone by spirit online. I was also old enough to know what non binary was, and was doing as people do and freaking out. This is the funny part, because since the start, spirit was she/her but all genderless. Hm. Maybe that meant something. So i'd done what any one would do when already having another name and wanting to transition, and I'd asked folks at school to call me spirit. Hey who wants to guess what my name is now. Yeah. yep. named myself after my furry oc. felt silly i guess. so. yeah where was i aganin. ohh.

life changed. and i forgot about spirit, moslty. Still doodled them but didn't post because devaint art had died. whatever. I get an in class assingment to draw a monster. this is what i drew.

side note; not transcriing that, no way in hell.

but nontheless the idea is here, which is where we FINALLY get to modern lore. (aka one more year later)

As of now Spirit is a time travelling archivist, stealing books and relics just before they would get lost, creating a sort of library/museum of babble. The multiple eyes thing is taken directly from Anasii, the spider god of stories. with this, they also are a trickters, specalizing in illusions, which they often used for nonsensical bullshit.. moondrop and ember are both also time travelers, but not as fleshed out. also also the current ref sucks and i'll make a new better one when i have time. That being said ive been here for two hours and i'll shut up now.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter Eight: The Cleavage Excursion - Mitsunari and Okatsu settle in at Genba. A spider settles in somewhere else.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Artwork for this Chapter is Here

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

Three Principles from the Art of War: Know when to fight and when not to fight: avoid what is strong and strike at what is weak. Know how to deceive the enemy: appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak. Know your strengths and weaknesses: if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.

Personal comments: The Kamamori clan has gifted us with a copy of “The Art of War.” This is a book I have wished to read since I learned of its existence. And yet I am distracted by the discovery that Lady Okatsu is from the future, just like Lady Mai. I have many questions – not simply about life in the future, but about how she felt to be torn from one place and forced into what must have seemed like a new world to her. However, they do not realize that I know (have found in many situations one can learn much by feigning inattention). I should wait for her to trust me. I don’t believe she trusts many people.

I would be… I would… feel… honored if she trusted me.

This is fine. This is totally ok.

Mitsunari and I had agreed – all business. Who cared if my business partner was gazing at Shohime as if he were one sigh away from running across the room to her in slow motion, as viewed through a soft-focus filter, while flowers bloomed, and birds sang? Sure, that would be a problem, but it would only be a problem because I had been hired to keep the two away from each other.

I probed my feelings like I was testing a sore tooth with my tongue. Poke, poke… ouch. Although what’s that old joke? ‘Doctor it hurts when I do this.’ “Then don’t do that.’ Don’t examine feelings. Surely it was only my ego. My pride was hurt to see how quickly Mitsunari’s disinterest in romance changed when presented with a vision like Shohime.

The Princess, as predicted, looked equally bedazzled by Mitsunari and she glided a few graceful steps forward and gazed at him hungrily. After a rather pointed throat-clearing by her father, followed by a talon-like grip on her shoulder by her mother, she turned to Nobunaga and presented him with a book that she said, in a soft, musical voice, was one of the gifts from the Kanamori clan to the Oda.

Huh. I hadn’t even noticed she had a book. Had Mitsu-

Mitsunari’s hungry gaze had transferred to the book that Nobunaga now had in his hands.

He had noticed the book. Not Shohime. Ok then. All was right in the world (a world in which Mitsunari would run in slow motion toward a rare book).

Nobunaga thanked her, then presented the Kanamori clan with gifts of his own – prize imports from merchants of Osaka and Azuchi - then introduced all of us. When he got to me, and called me Mitsunari’s betrothed, Shohime froze and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Fiancee?”

Not completely unshed: one, single tear dislodged itself from her eyelash and rolled down that dewy cheek.

“She would be a pretty crier,” Mai said to me quietly, putting voice to my own inner sense of complete inadequacy.

I glanced around at the rest of the Oda, to see how Shohime’s reaction to our theater was going down. Mitsunari – still looking at the book. Nobunaga – attention on Mozume. Hideyoshi, at least, seemed a bit guilty that our strategy had upset the young Princess.

Lady Yone stepped forward and took control. “My apologies. No one communicated to us that Oda Okatsu would be part of your delegation.” There was a loud sniffle from Shohime. Lady Yone shot her a glare of death. “Of course, you’re very welcome, Lady Okatsu. However, with Shohime’s fiancé arriving tomorrow, accompanied by his own delegation, I hope it won’t be a problem if Lady Mai and Lady Okatsu share quarters?”

Mai and Nobunaga looked at each other, apparently communicating silently. Then Nobunaga did his ‘great and powerful Oz has spoken’ thing again. “Lady Mai will stay with me. You may put Lady Okatsu with Mitsunari.”

!

Hideyoshi accompanied us up to the room and gave it a once-over. It was small, as unlike Azuchi, which had been designed as living and working quarters, Genba had started out as a fort. An attempt had been made to brighten it up, with wall tapestries, decorative screens, a writing desk and newly lacquered shelves. But there was no hiding the fact that Mitsunari and I would have very little privacy.

Once a castle page had deposited our luggage and an extra futon mattress, Hideyoshi closed the door and quietly asked Mitsunari, “Are you comfortable with this arrangement?”

Not looking up from the book he’d already begun reading, Mitsunari said, “Why would I not be?”

Yeah. Answer that one, Mom.

Hideyoshi puffed out his cheeks in a silent moment of frustration.

I took pity on him. “The room is suitable and we’ll be spending most of our time in the archives anyway.”

Uncharacteristically at a loss for words, Hideyoshi glanced from me to Mitsunari (still reading), puffed out his cheeks again, then sighed. “Alright. You should unpack your things before they wrinkle.” He bowed and whisked himself away.

I’d been in closer quarters before – most recently camping with Kyubei. But sleeping outdoors was less intimate than this. Hopefully, sharing a room wouldn’t send Mitsunari back to the awkward zone we had lived in when I first arrived at Azuchi. Since I wasn’t sure if he had actually listened to Hideyoshi’s question, I repeated it. “This won’t bother you, will it?”

He looked up from his book. “Shouldn’t I have asked this question of you? Do you mind sharing a room with me?”

I shook my head as I unpacked my things. Normally, I keep my clothes stuffed in a pack, resulting in many annoying games of ‘suitcase Tetris’ and as Hideyoshi warned, a lot of wrinkles. But Mai had labored over these, and I wouldn’t insult her hard work that way.

“I don’t mind. Normally I would say I can sleep anywhere, but the truth is that I don’t sleep very well at all, so it doesn’t matter.” The attempt on my life five years ago had left me a light sleeper prone to bad dreams – though even in the modern world, sleep had never come easy to me.

“Why is that?” Mitsunari rested the book in his lap and watched me as I put the nicest kimono up on a rack.

Huh. That might be the first truly personal question he’d asked me.

I stepped behind a folding screen to change out of my travel clothes – into a (sigh) pink kimono that had come labeled with a note from Mai (“wear this first and get it over with”). “Oh, I could likely find several explanations, but they’re all worthy of a long conversation, and I expect you want to get a look at Mozumi’s book room.”

Knowing that I had spoken the magic word “book,” I hurried to finish changing. A rustle of fabric indicated Mitsunari was changing clothes as well. This was followed by a clatter, and a muffled sigh. Then. “Okatsu. I appear to be trapped.”

Re-emerging from behind the screen, I saw that somehow his sleeve had gotten caught and twisted in his sash, creating a straight-jacket.

How had he managed that?

“This… takes talent.” I helped him free himself… then suddenly he was naked to waist as the kimono slid off in a whoosh of freed fabric. Again, I noticed that muscular definition that normally hid under his rumpled clothing. Then I mentally slapped myself for noticing. Don’t objectify your fake fiancé, Katsuko!

Once he was clear of the fabric, and unlikely to trip over anything, I wandered over to the tiny window, and peered between the slits. As I’d noticed on the ride in, Genba was surrounded by forests on three sides, which wasn’t ideal if you wanted to avoid a sneak attack. Which, I expected was one of the reasons Mozumi wanted to ally with Nobunaga.

“I believe I am ready, Okatsu.” Mitsunari had changed into one of the new outfits Mai had made him. The purple accented fabric did slightly match my kimono, but not in an obvious member-of-the-wedding party way.

“Looks good.” He did look good, although his hair was a bird’s nest after that fight with his clothes. “But maybe you should…” I mimed combing hair.

“I apologize for being such a mess.” He dug through his things – which were already all over half the room – to unearth a comb.

“No need to apologize to me. I’m the one who’s a mess. Don’t forget that less than a week ago, I still had a black eye. Besides, my brother is a lot like you…” I looked him over – he’d missed a spot at the back of his head. I pointed to the back of my head and gestured where it was, but he missed it again. I shook my head.

“Can you?” He handed me the comb. “You are not a mess.”

“Hideyoshi thinks I am.” I concentrated on wrestling Mitsunari’s unruly hair into shape – and ignoring how soft and fine it felt in my hands. Baby hair, I think they call it. “There. Done.” His hair now looked better than mine.

“Thank you.” We exited the room in search of the archives. “Your brother is like me, you said.”

“In some ways, yes. He can also lose himself in a book. He sometimes trips over things if he isn’t paying attention.” I avoided using the word ‘clumsy’ although… it did apply. “But his interest is in medicine and he’s not relationship-avoidant.” Commitment avoidant, maybe, but Toshiie had never hesitated to throw himself into short term flings with any man or woman who caught his attention. I had always envied how easily he found it to open himself up to the potential of so many relationships.

“Had your father arranged a marriage for your brother before he disappeared?” The question was posed softly, hesitantly, as if asking personal questions was something that was hard on his throat. And indeed, it may have been. I wondered why he was asking – perhaps he realized that we needed to put forth a more “coupled” front than we had thus far.

I pondered telling him the longer version of my story, but we were in a semi-public place and although I didn’t see or hear anyone else around, that didn’t mean we were truly alone. At least for this gig, I was supposed to be somehow related to Oda, and not a girl with ‘father unknown’ on her birth certificate. “My parents were both gone before Toshiie disappeared.”

Mitsunari, or any other listener, would take that to mean that they were dead – which was true in my mother’s case anyway. For all I knew, it was also true of my father. Mitsunari didn’t press for additional details. Either he didn’t want to upset me, or he’d run out of patience for small talk.

We spiraled down a couple floors through stairways that were too dark and narrow for my comfort. Again, I had to remind myself that Genba had been built for security. What felt claustrophobic to me was likely “defensible” to the original builders.

Eventually, after getting turned around twice, a page directed us to a room full of books and scrolls, and that musty book smell that pervaded any interior that had stored them for a long period of time.

Somewhat surprisingly, Mozumi was waiting for us. “Nobunaga said it would take you very little time to find your way here.” He gestured to the brimming shelves. “Until we started mining silver, Genba never had many advantages, but my father, and now I, have always done our best to acquire books.”

Mitusnari looked eagerly around and homed in on the military titles immediately.

“Princess Okatsu, are you as fascinated by the written word as your fiancé?” Mozumi’s arm brushed across mine, then far too close to my breast, in a way that I hoped was accidental.

No one is as interested in books as Mitsunari, but I knew that in this case, what Princess Okatsu’s answer was. “Oh yes! It was one of the things that made Lord Nobunaga believe we would do well together.”

Of course, if Nobunaga bothered with arranging marriages amongst his vassals, he likely would place far more consideration on lands and resources – but since Mitsunari had no lands and ‘Okatsu’ was likely only a very distant cousin of Oda, a love of books was as good a reason as any.

“How kind of him.” Mozumi sounded slightly bitter. Why? Hmm. Shohime had been sent to Azuchi last summer. Perhaps Mozumi had hoped that his beautiful offspring (or the combination of pretty daughter plus silver mines) would catch Nobunaga’s eye.

Truthfully, kind was not the first word that I associated with Nobunaga, but when in doubt…? I smiled and nodded.

“Perhaps you’d be interested in these volumes here,” Mozumi continued, gesturing to a shelf full of oddly shaped books and scrolls. He pulled one out, seemingly at random, and opened it to show me an illustration of a couple having sex in a rather acrobatic display of balance and flexibility. It was… a pillow book. Holy crap, was this entire shelf full of pillow books?

Mozumi was showing me his collection of porn! “What do you think, Princess? Does this interest you?”

Alright, I was squicked out. Had I been ‘Katsuko,’ I would have responded by threatening him with my knife – but what would Okatsu do? If she knew what that book was, she would faint. Or slap him… or… wait… that might reveal more knowledge than what she ought to have. Although Nobunaga had put Mitsunari and I in the same room, which suggested that Okatsu ought to have some knowledge… but… slapping or fainting might cause Mitsunari to get upset and defend me… so… Better just to make Mozumi think I was an idiot.

I tilted my head and asked, “Are they … exercising?”

He coughed and closed the book quickly. “Ahem. Er. Yes. Exercising. Special exercises, that an older man, an experienced man, could show you.”

Nope. Nope. Nope

“Do you have any poetry? I adore pastoral odes.” Pastoral odes were the most boring, insipid poems I could think of. Personally, I’d rather read a good adventure, but hopefully Mozumi would decide that I was too dull to pester.

“There might be some over on that wall.” After pointing me in the correct direction, he turned and left, but not before once again running his hand over my arm. I would not give him the satisfaction of shuddering – instead, I just blinked and pretended innocent confusion.

Ugh! What a letch.

I made a mental note to warn Mai. If this was what Shohime was exposed to, no wonder she was attracted to the gentle Mitsunari (well, aside from his more obvious physical charms).

“Did you find something to read?” Mitsunari was suddenly at my shoulder.

“No!” I practically yelped it. “Um. I mean. No. These are pillow books. I wasn’t reading them.”

“To sleep on?” That wouldn’t be very comfortable.” Before I could stop him, he pulled one off the shelf. I had a brief and terrifying vision of trying to explain the birds and the bees to Mitsunari, which was followed by extreme sympathy for Hideyoshi who likely would end up being the one to perform that task. But while Mitsunari was absentminded and uninterested in matters of love, he wasn’t ignorant of the mechanics. It took him barely a glance to understand what the book contained.

He blushed from his ears to his nose and thrust the book back on the shelf. “Oh.”

To try and move past the embarrassment, I said, “Exactly. And Mozumi just took me right to them.”

Mitsunari swept a concerned look over me. “That was inexcusable. I will discuss this with him.”

Bad idea.

“I can handle it. I just played dumb. That type gets bored easily – I’m sure that put him off.” I wasn’t actually that sure. But Mitsunari challenging Mozumi to a duel or something was just the type of incident we wanted to avoid.

“What type is that?” He wiped his hands on his kimono, likely to get the feel of the pillow book off his fingers. Unfortunately that left a trail of book dust and wrinkles on his new clothes.

“Where I come from, we use the phrase, ‘dirty old man.’” I shrugged. I’d just have to avoid being alone with him.

“Are you… unsettled?” He paused and I could almost see the gears rotating in his head. “I feel quite certain that Mai would offer to hug you at this moment. Is that something you would appreciate?”

Yes.

“No… thank you, but I’d rather pretend it didn’t happen.” And, like Mitsunari, I dusted my hands off, but at least I remember to use my hand towel, instead of my kimono. “Anyway. Did you find anything of interest?”

“Most certainly.” Mitsunari wore the beatific smile of a novitiate who had just encountered God. “I imagine I might spend the better part of a month here and still not read everything.”

“Then you should get started.” We wouldn’t be here for a month… which was a good thing because being stuck in this room for that long, even with such relaxing companionship as Mitsunari would likely drive me mad. It wouldn’t be healthy for Mitsunari either. I made a mental note to drag him outside for at least an hour of fresh air and exercise every day.

But for now, Mitsunari settled himself on the floor, while I prowled the shelves looking for something that at least I could read to give some truth to the lie I’d told Mozumi about being a bookworm like Mitsunari. Eventually, I unearthed what appeared to be a very long poem in Portuguese. Though I didn’t expect it would be an interesting read, at least I could practice my skills in that language, so that when I returned to Aki’s I could claim I’d worked on a summer reading list.

That settled, I plunked down next to Mitsunari to puzzle out the poem. Summer reading indeed – it did feel like doing homework as I would translate one line at a time in my head, then backtrack to put it all together. After a long couple of hours, I was aware that I was getting a cramp in my neck and my rear had gone numb. How did Mitsunari manage it?

Setting the book in my lap, I glanced over at him. He, was usual, was completely absorbed in his reading, his eyes behind his glasses rhythmically scanning the text.

Watching him was, at this point, more enjoyable than reading, so I sat there for several minutes, letting my eyes rest and my mind wander. Those glasses suited him. Without them he seemed… well, young and unfocussed, but with them or he looked more mature. Like a University teaching assistant. Not that any of the ones I had ever known were that good looking though. I might have attended more classes. Hm. I thought about that. No. I wouldn’t have.

When he suddenly looked over the top of his glasses and met my gaze it was a startling jolt back to reality. “Sorry! I was just taking a break. I didn’t mean to stare.” Rude, Katsuko. Rude.

“I don’t mind. I was worried that I looked odd.” Mitsunari seemed embarrassed and I felt bad for flustering him. He glanced down and noticed the book in my lap. “What’s this?”

“Oh. I was practicing my Portuguese, but there’s only so much translating I can do before my brain rebels, you know?” Actually, he probably didn’t know. His brain likely rebelled at too much time not reading.

But Mitsunari was polite enough to nod and set his own book aside. “Then likely it is time that we quit for the day.”

“Not because of me, I hope! The purpose of my being here is to make it easier for you to do all this reading.” Mitsuhide might not kill me if I distracted Mitsunari too much, but … Hideyoshi would.

“No, I decided to stop because there are people walking through the corridor heading to the banquet, and I believe that at least tonight, we will be required to make an appearance.” He sounded about as thrilled about that prospect as I felt.

Unthrilled. Basically.

But, also hungry.

And… twitchy.

What the …?

Something lightly hopped from the top of my head to my shoulder, and I jumped, started by the sudden tickle of it. “What was that?”

Mitsunari squinted in concern as he peered at my neck. “Are you frightened by spiders?”

“Is it poisonous?” I froze, just in case. I’m not at all squeamish, but I’d also prefer to not be bitten by anything venomous.

“No. It’s a common jumping spider.”

“Oh. Well, that’s ok then.” Harmless pest control.

Still, Mitsunari reached to brush it off – and Mr. Spider decided to scuttle into what might have looked to it like a safe little spider cave but was in fact… down the front of my kimono.

“Eep!” Not squeamish, but eight little legs were rappelling into a crevice where I really did not want eight legs to go.

Then Mitsunari instinctively followed to fish the spider out.

“Wait, no!” was all I managed to say before the door opened, and Hideyoshi, Mai, Lady Yone and Shohime looked in.

“Ooops!” Mai giggled as she moved to block Shohime’s vision.

“What is going on in here?!” Hideyoshi’s eyebrows were so concerned they met in the middle of his face and in a giant frowning V.

Mitsunari’s face turned tomato red and he jerked his hand away.

The spider emerged from the bottom of my kimono, and skittered across the room, only to meet its doom at the hands (or rather the foot) of Lady Yone. “Nasty thing.”

She scraped her foot across the floor, ensuring Mr. Spider was well and truly dead… and something colder than the spider skittered down my back.

She enjoyed that.

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @katriniac @lyds323 @briars7

[marinerainbow]

Hey! So while I was reading your Popshine/JessicaxRoger Switcheroo AU I was listening to that Steven Universe Song- Its Over Isn't It (And just a precurser- i havent seen this show i just like the song and am just taking context clues from it). And I've been stewing on it since, and can't stop thinking about a Shiny x Poppy x Psycho love triangle with this plot! Lots of angst ahead, I warn you 😅

Like, imagine both Psycho and Shiny are in love with Poppy and she cares deeply for the both of them too. Shiny can make a joke of this, playfully argue with Psycho any time he's around and bother him as much as she can- because she doesnt think she'll actually lose Pops to him but his presence does annoy her. Her heart is, inevitably, broken when in the end Poppy chooses him.

I was fine with the men-

Who come into her life now and again.

I was fine, cuz I knew,

That they didn't really matter until you.

I was fine when you came, and we fought like it was all some silly game.

Over her- who she's choose-

After all those years, I never thought I'd lose.

Poppy and Psycho then have the twins, and Shiny fades into the background (as much as she can, I mean. Poppy still loves her and wants to be friends of course)- until Poppy dies. I'm not sure how, considering she is a toon of course, but it was definitely tragic.

Now Shiny has to help Psycho take care of the twins because he can't do it alone (She certainly knows it), and she needs to keep the last bit of Poppy left over, safe.

Of course you're welcome to ignore this if you want! Just thought I should tell you since it's about your OC's 😅

AWSTTHJOLNJTESDU7JHTEDF ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME CRY!?!? WELL YOU SUCCEEDED-

Ok ok ok. Before I get into my response to this, I've got some headcannons for this little AU. So. Poppy is dead. Psycho is not only mourning the sudden loss of his wife, but he's also a father now. He's got two kids he has to figure out how to raise through the depression. This would be hard on anybody. But on someone as mentally unstable as Psycho?? Holy. Shit. He's gonna need a lot of help. Shiny knows this, and although she and Psycho aren't friends thanks to their little love rivalry (I like to imagine she and Psycho could get along on their own. Maybe not be best friends, but it's Shiny's whole damn job description to get along with everyone she meets. If they didn't love the same woman, she could have made an acquaintance with Psycho work), she steps in whenever she can. Being more than just the Godmother Poppy asked her to be for the kids; at this point, the twins are practically her own, too. And she's the closest they have to a mother figure in their lives.

In fact, I think in this storyline, Shiny would have offered to take Psycho's position in the Toon Patrol. Those kids need a parent who won't get pulled away because of a new job. Or could easily be killed on said job either. And Psycho needs to be able to focus on his children full time now that it's just the three of them. Sure, if he does die too, the twins will be under her care, but Shiny isn't going to deprive them of the father they need now. Not to mention that this is around the 60's-70's; burlesque clubs aren't very popular now. Not as much as they were in her time anyway. Shiny needs a new job. And hey, she already had one foot in the criminal life with her moonshine business. Why not kill two birds with one stone? (Sometimes Psycho does have to get called for a job that only he can do, though he is still mostly a stay at home dad.)

So to the twins in this storyline, Shiny is not just their cool aunt. She's involved in so much of their lives. Going to school functions with Psycho to support all three of them, celebrating holidays all the time with them, and just generally making sure he doesn't screw up as a dad. She and Psycho here don't necassarily like each other, but she's short of moving in with them from becoming a complete member of their household. It's partially due to her legal status as a godmother, and she herself has grown an attachment to Poppy's children. And it hurts her so much more because this is the family of the woman she loved, and the other man.

Because she's trying her best to be the stability this family needs, Shiny never got to really mourn Poppy's death and, as such, hasn't been able to truly move on. She feels like she can't truly talk about her position about this to anyone since she has to be strong for the kids. But eventually, bottled emotions have to come out one way or another. Why not let them come out in song?

Also, after our convo, I'm making widower gardener Psycho canon in this AU :)

Warnings for: past character death, angst, plenty of cursing, a lot of crying. Also emotional singing (I don't care if it may come out as cringy- if I can't animatic Shiny singing this song, then I'm gonna write it!)

~

January 2, 1973

"Goodnight, Shiny."

"G'night, you little rascals. Don't forget to bite the bed bugs back for me!"

The two children giggled, Percival letting out a "That's gross!" around his laughter, before their father gently nose nudged them both towards the hallway. The twins gave him and their godmother one final hug before making their way to the back of the house to do as they were silently told how they could behave so well despite being raised by two hooligans, Shiny had no clue. It must be Poppy's influence. Usually Psycho didn't pay much mind to bedtimes, though it was late on an already long day. They all needed rest...

The grin on Shiny's face finally fell, only after Psycho glanced briefly towards her- telling the old dancer in his own way to go home now, before following his children. Now it was just her alone standing in the seemingly empty living room. It had been a long day for them all. Especially for the kids...

'Another birthday come and gone...'

visiting the grave of a woman that they didn't even know, but were supposed to. That would be scary and thought-provoking for anybody. No matter how old or young they were. Who knew what kind of shit was going through Penny and Percy's heads whenever they saw their mothers name on a tombstone?

But at least, they had as good of a support system they could get. All Penny and Percy needed to worry about now was what story their father would tell them tonight, and how many sheep they'd have to count to fall asleep. But they were getting older, too. And someday, they would lose the innocence that came with childhood...

Shiny's fists clenched, and an ugly frown tugged at her lips, choosing to glare at the floorboards as if they somehow spoke ill about her. Every year, this day was so damn hard for her. At least on the twins' birthday, she could distract herself with Penny and Percy's happy demeanor and what the day is supposed to be about. But on Poppy's birthday, all anybody could think of was how their friend was no longer with them to celebrate with.

The weasel woman growled a little before silently storming towards the front door, trying so hard to ignore the pain in her heart. She had to leave and go home anyway, but she also needed some fresh air. It was the only thing that could help her now- or at least that was what she could hope.

The former dancer's paw hovered over the doorknob in hesitation when she heard the familiar pitter patter of rain drops hitting the roof. Before she even stepped outside, 'Of course. Of course, it's going to be raining tonight.' If she were religious, she would have taken this as a sign that even the universe was sorrowful on this day. didn't bother with thoughts like that. They brought no reassurance or comfort to her despite so many people telling her it would.

Shiny just barely managed to not slam the door behind her before sinking down onto the porch steps. The night air was chilly, causing the rain to feel ice cold on her skin, not that Shiny cared at the moment. And the lamp across the street had gone out again. Shiny hadn't bothered turning on the porch light; it would just draw more attention towards her. More so than a wrech sitting on someone else's porch in the rain in the middle of the neighborhood would. At least the people around here knew to mind their own business.

That was one of the things Poppy liked about this place when they went house hunting; it was a valuable perk for anybody married to unlawful citizens. The perk for Shiny was that her house was just a few blocks away, and she could have visited Poppy and the kids more often...

"Fuck!" She roughly rubbed her eyes, trying desperately to get rid of the now familiar stinging before the floodgates started. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Why? Why? Why did it have to be so damn hard just to think of that woman's name? To think about a future that would never be reality now? She knew why, but why!?

Shiny sucked in a long, overdue breath and heaved it out before slumping over in defeat. Her elbows were resting on her knees, but they hardly supported her it felt like, as she hung her head. If she closed her eyes, she knew that Poppy's grave would be all that she'd see, so Shiny settled for just staring into the wet, muddy ground. Her voice was so soft, so fragile, she would have wondered if she actually said anything if she wasn't focusing on other things, "Why did it have to be you?"

God. So much had changed over the years. It was hard to believe they all had come this far. How much they all had changed. Sure, Smartass still had his gang, and the rest of the boys were still in it. But everything was different. And it wasn't just Psycho becoming a father and widower. She was different...

So much had changed. Nothing was the same. Or ever will be again... She couldn't even remember the last time she sang. Singing and dancing used to be one of Shiny's favorite forms of expression; it had been more than just a way to make money to her. But there wasn't a need for it now. She worked in the night under a very different career now. What point was there in singing anymore?

Shiny ran a paw through her hair it had grown longer over the years. She simply hadn't bothered to cut it anymore. She couldn't see the point in it nowadays before tilting her head to the left to look at the poppies lining the house. She was careful, despite her broiling emotions and shaky paw, when she reached towards the one closest to her and grazed her fingers over the petals. It was actually Percy's idea to plant the poppy flowers, 'so mom can be home' he had said. Just more proof that the little kit thought about things a lot more than kids his age should. Of course, planting your mothers namesake to try to keep her close wasn't how it worked, but who would care? Certainly not his father. Or her.

'You always loved my singing.' The thought wormed its way into Shiny's head before she could stop it. But now that it was there, she just... Couldn't fathom the energy to force it away. Not while she was out here alone, on her sweethearts birthday, with the cold rain and breeze as her band for the night, 'And I loved to sing for you... I'd give anything to sing for you again...'

But Poppy wasn't there to hear her sing anymore. It was no longer the same. Shiny had always thought that she sang for herself, which was partially true. But she found out the hard way too that she also needed someone to offer her voice to- something to sing about. But what?

...

"I was fine... With the men... Who would come into her life now and again..." It had been years since she had found it in herself to sing anything. Let alone whatever was on her mind. She somehow already knew what she was going to sing about before the words even left her lips, but right now, she couldn't care less, "I was fine... Cause I knew, that they didn't really matter... Until you." Her eyes narrowed into a spiteful glare, as she thought about that damn weasel inside the house now. She wanted to think of him as a homewrecker in all honesty. Though how could she when Poppy had never loved her the she had hoped she would?

A shaky breath, to try to calm her raging nerves. It was futile, but it was either try or just go all out and bat shit crazy in the rain. Shiny focused back on the flower, thinking back to all the stupid things Psycho and Shiny used to do to compete, "I was fine. When you came, and we fought like it was all some silly game... Over her."

Another crack in her voice. Another breath, "Who'd she choose..."

Shutting her eyes tightly, Shiny managed to tear her gaze away from the flower bed and lift her chin towards the cloudy night sky. Though it wasn't in pride, "After all those years, I never thought I'd lose..."

"It's over, isn't it?" It was, wasn't it? "Isn't it?" Now that she was never coming back, "Isn't it over?" After leaving behind so much, "You won. And she chose you. And she loved you. And she's gone..."

Only one thought crossed her mind as a droplet that wasn't from the current weather slipped down her cheek; if their silly little game was over now... "It's over, isn't it? Why can't I move on?"

~

Penelope felt restless, sitting upright in her bed and watching the rain pattering against her window intently, rather than laying down and trying to sleep. She always loved the rain. As long as she could remember. She especially loved it when it was a heavy downpour.

Though she was scared that mom's poppies would get ruined. Thankfully, dad was already on it, and had left real quick to make sure the garden had shelter for the night, "Percy?"

She didn't look her brothers way, but she could still hear the sleepy muddle in his voice. She didn't know how he was able to hunker diwn to bed so quickly, "Yeah?"

"Do you think mom liked the rain too?" Dad and unkle Wheezy had mentioned that their mother wasn't too fond of thunder a few times, but thunder and lightning were different... Maybe she had something in common with mom.

Finally tearing her gaze away from the window, Penelope looked over to the other side of the room, where Percival, in his own bed, was. The little weasel rubbed his eyes and blinked them into focus before he shrugged, "Maybe... Dad likes the rain, and they did a lot together. So she probably did."

"Yeah. That's right..."

Penny nodded, though Percival noticed how she looked to be frowning. He sighed, knowing exactly what she was thinking. It was something they both thought about, especially on days like this. How everyone they knew got to know their mother... Except each other.

Wordlessly, the kit crawled out of his bed and walked over to his sisters side of the room. He did hop on the bed with her, but he did reach over to hug her, which she returned silently. Neither of them spoke a word. They were young, but they still knew each other best.

"... I'm gonna get a glass of water." Penny decided after a moment, pulling away from the sibling embrace and sliding off of her bed easily. Percy decided to follow her. It sounded like they could use a drink- as their unkle Smarty would say.

The trip to the kitchen was relatively short. It wasn't even too bad when they had to get creative to reach the glasses in the cupboard; usually, dad got the cups down for them, but he wasn't around. So Penny just climbed onto the counter like she had seen dad do sometimes and passed down her brother the cups. They had done this trick a lot, much to their family's detriment.

Percival could only hear the rain pouring down onto the roof. Though he was reminded that he wasn't the twin that inherited their mothers hearing when Penelopes ears twitched and tilted towards a direction. He followed confusedly after her when she started walking towards the front door, "What is it?"

The rabbit child's ears were pointed toward the door, before her bright blue eyes widened, and she hopped onto the couch closest to the front window. Percy followed suit, searching for whatever it was that she heard. When he saw the familiar figure sitting on the porch, his eyebrows shot up to his forehead, "Shiny?"

"She was supposed to go home, right?"

The two shared a look. Silently asking the other the same question; listen? Or go back to bed?

...

In that secret language only siblings could understand, the two agree to creep back towards the front door and crack it open. Just a tad; not enough for Shiny to hear them, buy enough for them to listen to what she was saying.

Or rather, singing, "Shiny can sing??"

"Shh!"

Lucky for the twins, the rain was loud enough in Shiny's ears to block out any other sound. Honestly it was a wonder she hadn't gone deaf from countless night in the past dancing along loud bands... Her heart ache might have had a hand in her lack of focus now, too.

The weasel gritted her teeth and tugged at some hair strands- which was getting wetter by the minute. Including her clothes and fur. But she just couldn't give a damn now. Besides, it allowed her to pretend that the tears streaming down her cheeks were just raindrops, "Who am I now in this world without her!? Petty and dull with the nerve to doubt her..."

Poppy was always naive; she always wanted and hoped for the best in this wretched world. But that didn't mean she was dumb. Poppy had faced her own suffering in her life, and she always looked out for the people around her, no matter how awful they truly were. The way she treated her criminal friends, how she treated her, was proof of that. Shiny knew that she could always trust the rabbit because of it. And that was what made Poppy stand out to her out of everyone in her life, and what she had loved the most about her.

But nowadays... She still loved Poppy, and she loved the twins. But sometimes, Shiny wondered what would have happened if she had tried to discourage Poppy from more of the choices she had made. Would it have been worth being more controlling if it meant Poppy would be alive now?

The singer shook her head at that, knowing in her heart that that kind of thinking was wrong. Besides, it's not like it would change anything, so what was the point? "What does it matter? It's already done. Now I've got to be there for her kin..."

From the front door, Penny and Perry couldn't believe their ears, and even shared a look. As if they had to verify with the other that what they were hearing was really real. Their aunt had always told them that she and their mother were close, but she never said anything about this. She never looked this sorrowful talking about their mom. She was always so cheery and strong; had she been hiding this from them all along? "Percy...?"

Their shared thoughts stopped in their tracks when Percy noticed Shiny standing up from the porch, and quickly gestured to his sister. The kits ducked behind the door, just in case she had planned on going back inside, or was about to glance behind her. They stayed there, holding their breaths, until they heard their godmother's voice again. Louder, almost yelling, and more strained this time. Like she was cracking under the weight of what she said next, "It's over, isn't it!? Isn't it!? Isn't it over!?"

They both flinched from their hiding spots, feeling the pain that Shiny carried through her voice. They slowly peeked back outside once they deemed it safe, and could see Shiny now stood up from the porch and off the steps, standing fully in the pouring rain now. It was hard to see with how dark it was, but it looked like she was trembling even. All Penny and Percy could do was continue to listen. It was all they knew what to do now.

The weasel felt like she was going to crack under the weight of all her pent-up emotions. Her breath huffing out all shaky and fists clenched so tight by her sides. She felt so weak right now, on her own, but all she wanted was to scream and shout and punch a pillow. Or better yet, a wall. Her vision felt blurry, and not just because of the tears in her eyes, and she wasn't even thinking about all of the painful memories like before. Right now, even though it felt so hard to do, all she could do was take in one long breath, and scream into the sky with all the heartbreak that she had pushed down all these years, "You won, and she chose you! And she loved you! Now she's gone!"

...

That's it. There was no turning back now. She couldn't take it back now. Or fault the ears of anyone who may have been listening. Blinking away raindrops and tears, as if that final scream had taken her voice, all Shiny could manage now was a soft, pained tune, "It's over, isn't it? Why can't I move on...?"

Quiet sobs escaped her lips as her head fell, now staring at the muddy ground. Her shoulders shook with her crying, but that didn't stop her from wrapping her arms around herself, trying to find some way to find warmth and comfort now, "It's over, isn't it? Why can't I move on?"

Letting out everything she had locked away didn't help in the slightest; all it left was cold emptiness. At least, that's what it felt like now. At least no one was here to see her like this...

"Shiny?"

Her eyes grew wide, and a gasp escaped her before she whipped back around towards the doorway. Seeing the two she had hoped would never see this side of her was bad enough, but seeing the utter confusion and worry on the twins' faces, worry they shouldn't have to feel for her, made her heart sink even further than it had. How much did they hear? "O-Oh! Hey, guys... Shouldn't you be asleep...?"

Usually, the kids would have some witty excuse, or at least what they thought was clever, and act innocent. It would make Shiny laugh every time before she called them out on their mischief and sent them back on the right path- doing whatever it was they were supposed to be doing. But now? Stepping fully outside and onto the porch in their pajamas, Penny and Percy didn't answer her. At least not with words. Though the many questions that they didn't ask- or didn't even know where to start- were clear as day in their wide, sad eyes.

They heard it all. Or at least enough. Enough where she couldn't make up a lie to distract them. Not that that would have stopped them. They were persistent little kits.

And now, because she couldn't keep a damn lid on herself, wasn't strong enough to keep it together, Shiny had no choice but to reveal the complete truth, "... I... Kids, I..."

But where does one even start?

~

I really wanted to add Psycho's reaction as well. But I couldn't figure out how to write it in while making it flow with the story. I'm kinda afraid that adding the twins in this already jumbled the flow of the drabble a bit- but I haven't written them yet, and wanted to try 😅

He is in the backyard, so I don't know if he could even hear her sorrow... Though maybe he came back inside last minute?

But anyways! I hope you like this answer, and I apologize for taking so long XD let me know what you think! ^^

[andydrysdalerogers]

Sideline Love ~ Chapter 13 ~ Fatherhood

Pairings - NFL! Chris Evans and OFC Rebecca Rooney

Series Summary: All football player Chris wants is to play football with his best friends in the NFL. But the night before he meets someone who could change his life... if she wasn't the bosses daughter. Can Chris change her mind with a little sideline love?

Word Count: 2.5K

General Warnings: smut! angst, cheating, parental interference, fluff, football Chris has beard ( 😏 ), injuries during the game, special appearance (don't @ me lol)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Becca Rooney and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

I am trying out a taglist. Please let me knouw if you would like to be included.

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Sebastian, Chris and Charlie walk to the park the next week with Charlie swinging in between the men’s arms.  “Daddy you and Seba are so strong. Can you swing me to the moon?”

“The moon? Why do you want to go to the moon?”

“So I can eat it.  Mama says the moon is cheese and I love cheese!”  She giggled as she swinged back and was launched in the air.

“What is your girl teaching her?” Sebastian shook his head.  He turned and growled like a fake bear.  “I’m gonna get you, papusa mica!”

Charlie screech and took off running towards the playground. “Daddy help!”

Chris charged in the lifted his girl up and put her on his shoulders. He ran, holding her legs as Sebastian jumped up to reach for her, their laughter filling the air.  A phone rang and Sebastian stopped.  He checked his phone.  “I need to take it.  Be right back.”

Chris trotted with Charlie on shoulders.  “Daddy?”

“Yes, munchkin?”

“Does this other daddy love me?”

“I don’t know. You would have to ask him.”

“Is it wrong if I like him?”

Chris’s heart clenched.  “Of course not.  He’s your daddy.”

“You’re my daddy.  And I love you but I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Momma says we shouldn’t hurt people’s feelings.”

Chris stopped and pulled Charlie down and sat her next to him on the bench. “I want you listen very carefully, Charlotte. The minute you ran into my life I knew you were special.  I have loved you since our Oreo date. Nothing is going to change that.  Its ok to like Tom, love him even. But you are my munchkin. My feelings won’t be hurt.”

“I love you so much daddy.”  Charlie flung her arms around his neck and gripped him tight.

Tom came the long way around towards the playground and heard Chris and Charlie’s voices.  “I don’t know him but I will try if its ok.”

“Charlie, you do what you want to do ok?  Your momma and I will love you and support you in whatever you do.  If you want to spend more time with Tom and his kids, we’ll make it work, ok?  Don’t worry about this. Just worry about being a kid.”

Tom took a step back and decided to watch them from a distance. He sees Chris playing with Charlie in the park and sees that Chris is like himself with his boys.  He watches as Chris makes sure Charlie is secure in the swing before pushing her, listening to Charlie’s squeals of delight.  A wave of overwhelming sadness floods is chest. He missed it.  The opportunity to have his own little princess.  He decides to call his dad. “Hey pop.”

Thomas, everything ok son?

Did I blow this? Neglecting Charlie?

He could hear his father sigh and open and close a door.  Son, only you can decide if you want to pursue this.  She spent five years with just her mother. This is a huge change.

“Becca has a boyfriend, Chris, who loves her as much I should have. Charlie calls him daddy.”

Oh Tom.

“I missed it, didn’t I?”

Son…

Father and son stayed on the phone as Tom broke down.  “Why didn’t I just own it?”

I don’t know.  Your mother and I never understood why not.  Giselle was going to leave either way because of your actions.  And Rebecca has always said she just wanted her daughter to have a father.  Is continuing this fight worth it?

A few minutes later, Tom had hung up with this father and called his lawyers. As he hangs up, he walks over to Chris, who is watching Charlie play with some other children. “Evans, can I have a moment?”

“What do you want Brady? I’m not supposed to talk to you. I’m just a supervisor.”

Tom looked at his feet. “I know. I just have a question.” He took a breath. “Do you love her?”

“Excuse me?”

“Charlotte. Do you love her?”

“I love her as if she was my own.”

“Ok, good.  Please don’t tell Becca what I’m about to tell you. I want to tell her myself.”

 

*~**~*

 

The Steelers have a pretty good record coming in before Chris’s suspension.  They had already secured a playoff spot but were now aiming for clinching the division. This game against the Bengals were crucial. One win and they had their first division title in almost four years.  Chris arrived at the final practice before the game to observed as he had the last two weeks.  He made sure that Josh was prepared, going over game tapes and plays. As he pulled over his sweater, Coach Tomlin yelled through the locker room.  “EVANS! OFFICE! NOW!”

“Fuck me,” he mumbled as he shot a look at Sebastian and Anthony.

“Whatcha do now?” Anthony asked.

“Breathe? Who the fuck knows?  Maybe Rooney is offended that I changed body wash,” Chris deadpans.

“I wasn’t going to say anything Evans, but I have the new bodywash an improvement,” Sebastian quips.

“Ah fuck off Stan,” Chris says with a chuckle as he makes his way to the head coach’s office.  “You wanted to see me sir.” Chris notices that Coach Ben is also in the office.

“Take a seat.” Tomlin shuffles some papers on his desk.  “We got a call from San Francisco.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, they are interested in trading for you. They heard about your benching and want to bring you on next season.”

“Oh well, I mean, I don’t really have a future here anymore.”

“About that.” Tomlin stood up from his chair and moved to the front of his desk.  “I talked to Rooney and let him know that this needs to end.  You are one of the best rookie quarterbacks I have ever seen.  You were pro ready.  I haven’t seen talent like this since Ben here.”

“I’m honored sir, really.”

“You should be.  But the next time you are not dressed for practice. you will be fined.”

“Excuse me?”

“Go dress.  You will be playing on Sunday.  We have a championship to win. Dismissed.”

Chris walked out in a daze with Ben.  “Is this really happening?”

Ben clapped his back.  “The entire coaching staff basically threatened to quit if they traded you. You did nothing wrong except fall in love.  You have been punished enough. Get ready and get warmed up.  Need to shake that rust off of that arm.”

“Yes sir.”  Chris jogged back to his locker.

“Chris, what did they want?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m playing. San Francisco called to ask about a trade and the coaches lost it.  Rooney caved and I’m playing. So, I gotta change and get out there.”

“I knew it would work out in the end,” Anthony said. “Had faith the whole time.”

“Right, what was it you were saying a few days ago? Something about Chris being the biggest idiot of all time.”

Chris raised his eyebrow at Anthony.  “What? I mean you almost gave all of this up for a girl.”

“Not just a girl.  My soul mate.”

 

*~**~*

 

Rebecca came into Chris’s house later on that night, throwing her keys into the bowl by the door, shaking the cold rain off of her.  “Babe! Monkey! I’m home.”

“Momma!” Charlie ran over to her mom and Becca lifted her up for a hug.

“Hi Monkey! How was your day?”

“It was good.  We learned the numbers and I’m practicing in my workbook.  Daddy is making dinner.  He says we have a cell-bration tonight.”

“Oh do we? Well, let me see what I can do to help.”  She carried Charlie back to the kitchen where Chris was stirring something.  “Hey baby!”

“Hey Angel!”  He leaned down to give her a kiss.

“Whatever you are making smells amazing.”

“Short ribs and mashed potatoes.  Like 20 minutes.”

“Sounds good. Do I have time to change or…”

“Go, relax.  I’ll have a glass of wine for you when you’re done.”

“This is why you are my favorite boyfriend.”

“Excuse me? I believe I am your only boyfriend.”

“Yeah, in my mind, I am also mentally dating Sidney Crosby and the guy who plays Thor.”

Chris turned to Becca with a predatory glare.  She takes a step back.  “Oh really.”  He takes a few steps towards her. He cages her in.  “Can those guys do this?”  He leans down and kisses her right behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“Chris, I…”

“Or this?”  He lets his fingers drift under her skirt.  He looks to see Charlie and grins to see the little girl preoccupied with Dodger.  He turns back to Becca as his fingers skate over her mound on top of her underwear.  She moans low. ���So wet already love.”  He pulls back.

“Shit, Chris.” She grabs the countertop to steady herself, her knees ready to give out.

“That’s what I thought.”  He kisses her softly.  “Later love.  But go get relaxed.  I have some news I want to share, and dinner is almost ready.”

Becca left the kitchen in a daze, heading up to their shared bedroom.  With all the changes they were anticipating, Becca had put her house on the market.  She and Chris worked on getting Charlie’s room ready.  Becca had a lot of her clothes here since this was where she and Charlie now spent the most time.  She washed her face and changed into some leggings and one of Chris’s hoodies, the air now chilly and crisp in mid-December.

Heading downstairs, she watched as Chris got Charlie in her booster.  “Ok, I’m comfy.  Where is my wine?”

Chris chuckled and handed the large goblet with red wine.  He took his own beer.  “Cheers love.”

“Cheers.”  She sat in her place with Chris at the head of table.  He served and they started to eat.  “My god baby, this is amazing.”

“Its yummy daddy.”

“Thank you, ladies.”  Chris swallowed his mouthful.  “So, I got called into Tomlin’s office today.”

“Really? Good or bad?”

“Well San Francisco called about that trade we talked about.”

“Well, that’s out of the bag.” Becca took a sip of her wine.  “What did Tomlin say?”

“That I would get fined if I showed up at practice again not dressed.”  Chris smiled with a twinkle in his eye as he watched Becca let the words sink in.

“Does that… you mean… you’re playing?”

“One PM Sunday babe.  Was wondering if maybe my favorite girls will come out and watch me play?”

Becca leaped up and sat on Chris’s lap and hugged him.  “Baby I am so happy for you.”

“Thank you, Angel.” He sighed as he breathed in her scent. “Apparently, the entire coaching staff was pissed about the call, and they all went to talk to your dad.”

“I hadn’t heard a thing.  I’m so excited for you.”

“Me too Angel.”

They finished up dinner and cleaned up.  Chris took Charlie up to bed for a story and cuddles, with Dodger hot on his heels, while Becca washed the dishes.  Chris came down and wrapped his arms around Becca.  “I’m gonna splash and get all wet Chris.”

“I like it when you’re wet.”

“Chris!”

“What? Charlie is out for the count.  And there is a reason why we put her in the far bedroom Angel.”  He started to kiss her neck.  When he couldn’t reach the skin he wanted because of the hoodie, he grasped the bottom and lifted it over Becca’s head.  She just had a cotton camisole underneath, and he could see that her nipples were peaking.  “Cold or horny Angel?” he asked with a smirk.

“You better touch me Chris.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll give you blue balls.”

“That’s evil Angel.  Are you my fallen Angel now?”

“Fallen?  Not yet.”  She let her hands trail down his chest and under the elastic of his sweats. “But I could be.”  She dropped to her knees and pulled him free. She pumped him with a few strokes as she looked up at him.  His beautiful ocean blue eyes were blown dark, and he licked his lips in anticipation.  Becca smirked before taking just the tip in her mouth and suckled on it.

“Fuck, Angel, that’s so good.” Chris tried to restrain himself from grabbing her hair and pulling her in. He hands gripped the counter behind him as Becca continued to bob up and down on his length.  She pulled herself long enough to say, “Its ok baby. Take control.”

It was all he needed.  He gathered her hair into a ponytail in his fist and used his other hand to guide her.  “Just like that, Angel.” He wasn’t rough with her, just provided enough guidance to get her worked up as well.  When he felt that familiar tingle, he pulled her away.  She whined at the loss. “I don’t want to cum in your mouth Angel.  Need to feel you around me when I let go.”

Becca smiled as he lifted her onto the counter.  “But I gotta make you feel good first.”  He reached for the waistband of her leggings and swiftly pulled them off.  He got to his knees and kissed her legs, listening her to sigh in delight.  As he got closer, she started to run her fingers in his hair, “Chris please.”

“So impatient my love.  Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”  He placed a kiss right over the apex of her thighs and then let his tongue taste his beloved.  She keened and mewled as he began to work her opened.   As she thought it couldn’t get better, Chris ran a finger up her slit to collect some of the moisture building. “All for me?”

“Always.  Its always for you,” she panted and then moaned as two fingers slipped into her.  He curled into her, finding her special spot.  He knew he had it when she jolted. He flicked his tongue back and forth on her clit as he continues to pump his fingers into her.

“Let go Angel.  Let me drink you in.”

God this man was dirty. But his words did the trick. The fire that has been building in her belly spilled over and she cummed hard around his fingers. “Chris! Fuck!” She moaned.

“You always taste so good Angel,” as Chris rose to his feet, licking his fingers and then his lips. “I need to feel you now.”

“Hmm, yes you do baby,” she purred just as a flash of lighting lite up the house followed by a crash of thunder that shook the house.  “Holy fuck! Where did that come from?”

“They predicted a storm,” Chris replied.  “Just wasn’t expecting that.”

Then an alarming screech was heard from upstairs along with a loud bark. “Daddy!”

Chris sighed and pulled his sweatpants up.  He grabbed a towel and cleaned his face as Becca laughed gently.  “Welcome to fatherhood, baby.”

“We are not done Angel.  See you upstairs and you better be ready.”

Becca let a mischievous smile cross her face.

“Yes daddy.”    

Taglist:

@patzammit @texmexdarling

[easypeasylindyvesey]

I Think it’s Strange We Never Knew: Jimmy Vesey x fem!OC

Summary: After the unforeseen death of Abby’s boyfriend, one of the NHL’s star defenseman and her teammate, she severely struggles with managing her grief. She confides in Jimmy Vesey, who is not only another teammate of hers, but is one of the very few people she has a strong friendship with. That is until that night and the days that followed. Does this life-altering news change the trajectory of their personal perceptions of each other? Or does it entail a chance of crossing boundaries for the risk of moving on?

Word Count (excluding title and heading): 15,745

*(General) Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door description), eventual confession of feelings, grief, panic attack(s), angst, eventual sexual implications but no smut, age gap

*Note: This story takes place in the future. Abby is 24-25 and Jimmy is 33-35.

MAY 2027  (Warnings: angst, grief, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door), (foul) language)

I am confined to this state of nothingness. I feel like I am passing through each day without any purpose. There’s nothing to do, nothing to distract myself with. The hours take so long to pass. It’s probably because I spend them in my room.

I’ve fallen into a pattern where I only leave my room to use the bathroom and to get food, otherwise, it’s my little private habitat. I don’t even attempt to talk to Jimmy. He’s forcing himself through the exposed cracks that happen to be parts of my soul. The forced conversation does not work. I see it as a little tactic of his. I hate to break it to him, but he’s not going to get anywhere with his strategy. If it’s not going to work with anyone else, it sure won’t with my roommate. God, it still feels so weird to call him that.

Ever since the argument about the panic attack, we haven’t had any others that have escalated to that point. A few quick arguments here and there, but he’s done better with not verbally attacking me. We didn’t even have a discussion about that fight. There were no apologies or anything. It was kinda shoved aside and forgotten about. Well, I wouldn’t say forgotten about. More like something that didn’t want to be revisited. After that, we’ve still talked to each other, but it’s more short-term, if anything. I think we’re both avoiding the elephant in the room. The meals are shortened, quick pleasantries are said half-heartedly, little to no quality time is spent together in the same place. I don’t mean to shut him out. I really don’t. I’ve always craved my own space, and he’s starting to realize that now. It doesn’t change the fact about previous encounters, but he’s being cautious. It’s as if he’s walking on eggshells. Now again, I don’t want him to feel like he has to do that. He’s probably afraid of saying the wrong thing, which he’s actually never admitted before. Hey, there’s a first time for everything. He’s not getting an out.

I’m watching how I talk to him, too. I have to remind myself that he is still hurt and upset by everything. It just might take him a little while longer to fully express it. The thought of him exploding at any minute never leaves my mind. I’m not prepared. So in order to avoid it in the near future, guess I’m walking on eggshells too.

The room grows dark as the evening sky makes its way to settle in. I’m watching the HGTV channel. It’s been my hyperfixation for most of the month. The shows are calming and have great personality among the hosts and guests. There’s no mystery, no uncertainty. It’s there to boost your spirits and keep you engaged. It sure has kept me focused. It has definitely not boosted my spirits, that’s for sure.

Out of the corner of my eye, my phone lights up next to me on the duvet. It’s a text message, and who else would it be from than the man that’s about 10ish walking feet from me right next door? I quickly gaze at it. Sleep well, it reads.

I unlock my phone and tap my fingers on the screen. you too, I answer, hitting send. I lock my phone and turn it camera side up. A new alternative the both of us have silently came up with is engaging more in text than verbal conversation. It gives us the choice of actually wanting to respond without being forced when we’re stuck in front of each other. It’s not like we go all day without talking, but you can tell there’s some sort of weakened part in us being able to hold a dialogue. Then again, it’s a touchy subject, and I’d rather not talk about it. One of us will end up getting hurt. Both of us are used to it by now. At least we’re making the minimal amount of effort to maintain contact. It’d be nearly impossible to ghost him and vice versa. It would’ve poured out in an argument at some point or another.

I end up watching TV for another hour before shutting off the lights and getting comfortable to go to bed. The only problem is that I’m wide awake. My eyes are completely alert and show no signs of rapidly closing. It’s probably because my brain is racing. It’s racing with the thought that tomorrow is going to be a very tough day.

Tomorrow was supposed to be Ryan and I’s second year anniversary. I know my last year self was so excited about getting past 1 year. When it comes to relationships, whether you’re still with the person or have ended it, the time you were together matters. Even if they were the biggest asshole to walk this planet. You wouldn’t be able to consider it time really wasted. At one point, you meant something to them and were prioritized. The unsatisfying part is never being fully aware of when it started to spin sideways. Where it started to slip away from which both of you would not be able to fully recover.

The thought of never being able to find out if the two of us were going to stand the test of time is one of a million thoughts that is going to forever haunt me. Then, I’m reminded of Jimmy’s comment saying that it was a blessing in disguise. Even though it didn’t come off as sincere, he really wasn’t wrong. Who knows what the universe had in store? Who knows if we were really built for a future? Who knows what his true, bitterly raw feelings about me were? If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that I never regretted the time we had together. It might have been cut short, but it was evident that we were always going to share that special bond that no one else would ever be able to understand. It’s somewhat comforting.

What’s not comforting, however, is the fear of having to replicate another close bond with another man. It’s not going to be the same, not that I want it to be, anyway, but to open up my heart and soul again will be even more daunting than I might realize.

Okay, that’s enough thinking for tonight. I hit my head on the pillow and shut my eyes, hoping that the task of faking to be asleep will eventually pay off. I can’t be kept up all night. Not by him, anyway.

I’m awoken again, this time not by noise, but by what feels like bright lights. I squint my eyes open and look to the carpet floor. I don’t see any outside light pouring in. My curiosity decided to get the best of me and I find myself dragging out of bed to open up the curtains. 

Well, now I know the source of the “bright lights.” It’s cloudy.

So much for a good day. Even the sky knows it’s not time to celebrate.

“Well, that’s just great,” I say aloud. I discard my unmade bed and head straight for the door, taking a quick peak to see if Jimmy’s awake. By the looks of his closed door, I can tell that he’s not. It’s either that or he’s doing his morning social media scroll. I wouldn’t blame him because I do it too.

I use the bathroom and wash my face, spritz on the perfume, roll on the deodorant, all that jazz. I tiptoe into the kitchen and do everything I can to be quiet while making breakfast. I’ve always been known to act like a mouse when it comes to wandering around places. I don’t draw too much attention to myself and I’ve got tiny feet, so it doesn’t really count for much noise. Jimmy’s kinda the same, I’d say. I mean, he can’t help his tall stature, so he can be a little loud when moving around, but he does his best to maintain my mouse-like quietness. Although, there is one time where I recall sleeping within the last couple weeks, and since I’m a light sleeper, I heard footsteps approach my door and it creaked open, shutting several seconds later. This is under the assumption that he was either watching me sleep, which is really creepy, or he wanted to see if I was awake and wanted to have a conversation. Should I even give him credit for trying?

I settle for scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast with a side of store-packaged fruit, specifically the assorted containers with cantaloupe, watermelon, pineapple, honeydew. That’s the good shit. I take the fruit out of the fridge and keep it out on the counter while looking through the newly organized cabinets for a decent sized pan to cook the eggs in. I decide to double my workload and make breakfast for him too. I hope he appreciates the sentiment, even if it’s through expressions rather than words.

I crack the first 2 eggs into the pan and prepare the toast by dropping the slices of bread into the toaster. It’s only 9:10. A little earlier than I get up, but I guess both my brain and body had different plans today. While waiting for the food to get caught up to speed, I decide which fruit to pick out. The package isn’t even open yet, so I have first-hand advantage. I pick one of everything, arranging it on the paper plate and pushing it off to the side. My attention returns to both the eggs and toast.

It’s too quiet in here. I don’t hear any shuffling or evident signs that he’s gotten up yet. That’s okay. I’ll just take the time to think, collect my thoughts. Maybe by the end of it, I’ll have my shit together. Oh, who am I kidding? Everyone knows I won’t.

I continue folding the eggs around on every corner, every crevice, every edge there possibly is until I’ve gotten them all yellow and scrambled before I remove them from the pan with the spatula and place them onto the crisp, golden brown toast. I reach into the cabinet above the pots and pans, moving my hand around blindly to grab the salt and pepper. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t hard because they were right in front of me. I sprinkle a small amount onto each slice before I locate them to their own spot on the counter. I reach bag into the egg carton and grab 2 more and crack them above the pan, watching them fall out of their shells and sizzling underneath the flame. At least that one can be retained. Mine’s upgraded into a wildfire.

Conversation has continued to be limited with the team. There hasn’t been much to really discuss, other than the fact that it’s technically summer vacation and we’re free to do whatever we want without the constant routine of showing up to the rink and practicing almost everyday. With that temporary absence of a consistent schedule, it’s been difficult figuring out how to spend my free time. Then again, I’m having several solo parties a day in my room. It really cannot get that much better, right?

I’m so adjusted to the drastic decrease in communication that I don’t even realize another voice infiltrating the room. “Morning.” It’s said in a sleepy voice, just like the one in Minnesota. I hear the scrape of a chair on the floor.

I turn around and meet his gaze. He was already looking with my back turned to him, wasn’t he? “Hi.”

“This for me?” He points to the full plate I pushed away earlier.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m making my own now.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Killing two birds with one stone.”

I immediately regret using that phrase, as it brings me back to the night of that argument. I remember him saying he wished I would’ve died with Ryan, hence, the two birds being us and the stone being that drunk driver and his stupid fucking truck. Sometimes, I wonder if he really wanted it to end up that way.

Returning to the eggs, they look perfect. I shut off the stove and take the toast out of the toaster, unplugging it right after. I arrange the toast on my plate and gently put down my eggs on top, sprinkling the salt and pepper for a perfect finish. I decide to take a fork out from the drawer and just eat the fruit straight out of the container. I turn back around to face him, my forearms leaning down on the counter. “Got anything planned today?” I say, attempting to sound as honest as possible.

Jimmy shakes his head. “Not really,” he responds. He points to the plate with his fork, a diced piece of watermelon taking up its space. “This is really good, by the way.”

“I’m a good cook.”

“Hell, you’re better than me.”

“Don’t I know it,” I reply sarcastically.

“Alright, stop that.” He flashes me his little smile.

I can’t help but flash one back at him.

“What about you?” Now it’s his turn to pry into my personal mental journal of thoughts.

“Nope. Got nothing better to do than just sit here.”

“That’s fair.”

I give him a little nod.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry about today.” He flashes me those sparkly puppy-dog eyes, that even I, too, can really see they are filled with sadness.

I look down at my plate and then look back up, glancing everywhere around the room that isn’t directly into his eyes. “It’s fine,” I mutter.

“Is there anything you’d like to do today, to uh, like, commemorate it or anything?” He’s sincere when he says that, too.

I shake my head. “No. It’s not the same without him here.”

“For what it’s worth, if anything, I thought you two were a great match for each other.”

I finally gain the courage to look at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he continues. “You both really cared about what was best for one another. It was evident there was some other level you two had unlocked that no one else could’ve cracked. I don’t want this to come off as creepy or anything, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier than when he was in the room. I know you didn’t have to be everywhere with him, and you were fine with that, but he just generated a different aura, you know? I’ve never seen you not smile when he was there. It made me happy to know he was treating you well.”

A rare sighting of sweetness?

“He did,” I admit. “There were rarely any arguments, and even if there were, it’d be over stupid things, like where to go get ice cream after a day on the beach or what music to play when driving. He was never too serious. I mean, he obviously was about his career, that’s a given. Don’t get me wrong, he was serious about us too, but I never had to question if he truly enjoyed it. If he could make me laugh at least three separate times during each time we saw each other, then maybe it was something worth my time.”

“Never made you cry?”

I stare him down. “Not until recently. He never made me go to bed wondering if I wasn’t an important part of his life.”

“Sounds like he was the perfect guy for you.”

I scoff. “Well, he wasn’t perfect, by any means. He obviously had flaws, just like you and I do. However, he did put in the effort. That’s what mattered.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s always going to matter.”

Jimmy clears his throat and gets up from his chair, retreating to the fridge and grabbing the jug of orange juice to place on the counter. He takes a cup out of the cabinet and pours himself some to go along with his breakfast. He looks in my direction, jug in hand. “Want some?”

“No thanks. Orange juice is dehydrating.”

He scrunches his eyebrows. “What do you mean? No, it’s not.”

“Uh, yes it is,” I sarcastically argue. “I don’t know how anyone drinks it God-willingly.”

“You’re so weird,” he replies back.

“Damn straight.” I give him a devious smile.

Now it’s his turn to scoff and shake his head. “You want anything to drink?”

“I’m good.”

He puts the orange juice back in the fridge and shuts the door, walking back to where he was sitting. He takes his piece of watermelon and pops it into his mouth.

“You excited for Wednesday?”

He finishes swallowing and looks at me. “I guess so, yeah.”

“You don’t wanna turn another year younger, do you?”

I get him to crack a smile, and with teeth. Damn, I’m good. “Not according to you, no.”

“But, like, do you have an idea of what you wanna do? We can’t just do nothing. Maybe, we can do a team outing or something.”

“Not everybody’s here,” Jimmy corrects me. “Lots of the guys went back home for the summer, remember?”

Oh crap, I forgot about that.

I exhale a frustrated sigh. “Alright, fine. I’ll go buy a tiny cake from the store and stick 34 mini candles in it. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a fire hazard.”

I wave my hand away in his face. “I’ll keep it under control.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will. But seriously, we don’t have to do anything crazy. We can run to Dunkin to get breakfast and then maybe come back here and just lounge. We could walk around the city if it’s nice out. Just wanna keep it lowkey, okay?”

I nod. “Got it. Your parents aren’t gonna be in town?”

He shakes his head. “Not this year. It’s not a big deal. You didn’t celebrate your birthday with yours, either.”

“Well, yeah, but I did it with another family instead.”

He nods in agreement. “Have your parents checked in on you at all?”

“Yeah. I call my mom once a week. I’m tired of her constantly texting me, asking if I’m okay. She should know by now that I’m not. My dad hasn’t thought to formulate a sentence, but that’s how he is.”

“When did you last call her?”

I finish the last bite of my toast before moving to my fruit. “Yesterday. It was only like 15 minutes. It’s the same old shit. There’s not much to talk about.”

“Does she seem worried?”

“She’s always gonna worry about me, even if I’m in the happiest mood ever,” I retort. “She was a nonstop mess when I moved here and had to live on my own, but she feels slightly better that I’ve moved in with someone.”

“Has she said anything about me?” Jimmy wonders.

I pretend to think. “She told me to thank you for being there when she couldn’t.”

“Well, tell her that it’s my utmost duty.”

“Okay, now you’re just being a little shit,” I laugh, closing the fruit container and putting it back in the fridge, then throwing my plate in the trash can. “You done? I can take it for you.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Oh, it’s my utmost duty to serve you, James.”

“Okay, enough of that,” he laughs. “What do you wanna do?”

I look around the apartment. “Actually, I think I’m gonna get organized. Make the bed, put away laundry, maybe start shifting some stuff into the other closet so that it doesn’t come crashing down on me the next time I open it.”

“Sounds like a great idea. Today’s probably not gonna be a good day to go out, anyway.” He gestures to the windows behind the TV.

It’s started drizzling. That’s great! Perfect weather for a somber day!

“Well, thank goodness for our lives being boring and having no plans!” I reply. “And with that, I’m going to go distract myself with plans.”

“Let me know if you want any help.” 

Oh, like he’s ever done that since that night? He cannot be serious.

“I will,” I respond. It’s the only thing I can say that won’t start something. I make my way to my room, shutting the door behind me.

I start off with making my bed, propping up all the pillows so they look fresh and totally not worn out. I brought my pillows to sleep on and kept Jimmy’s boring ass white shams. Same thing with the duvet. To make the room a little more interesting, I placed a couple throw blankets at the end to add in some color to make up for the lack thereof. The next task was perhaps the most daunting of them all as an adult: laundry. The basket was heavy because I let it build up, and Jimmy always wanted to take my basket down when our laundry had to be done so he could separate our clothes. He has not yet made the mistake of throwing in one of his own articles into my basket yet. I’m still waiting for the day.

After the longest 25 minutes of flipping shirts inside out, finding unoccupied hangers, hooking them on the closet rail, folding all of my pants and putting them in the drawer, repeating the process with my bras and underwear, which now, it got me thinking. I wonder if he ever peaked at them longer than he should’ve when I wasn’t around. Oh, who am I kidding? He most definitely did not. He’s too innocent for that. Although, he was guilty of calling me a burden, so I wonder if he’s gonna reverse his charges. Wait, what was I alluding to? Oh, yeah. My laundry’s done.

I move all of my hockey gear, equipment, all of its corresponding bullshit to the empty closet. It’s not one that I want to open in the near future. I forgot how heavy my duffle bag was, so I literally had to shuffle it across the carpet because I really don’t want to throw out a shoulder right now. Not that it would matter because we’re not playing, but it would make my life just the tiniest bit easier. I go back for the skates, stick, and gloves. Only they’re not mine. They’re his.

The other option was that they get discarded in some deep, dark closet that no one would ever open again, the lock being kept in place. I drove up to the practice rink one day to get them. Of course, I chose not to tell Jimmy where I was going, so when I got back an hour and a half later, when I opened the door, I found him sitting on the couch and immediately turning around to give me one of the most disapproving looks. We quickly bickered about how I need to let him know where I’m going, yet I’m a grown adult just like him and that he doesn’t need to become a helicopter “parent” and know all of my whereabouts. The good news is that he hasn’t had to worry since. I have not stepped foot out that door probably since close to the end of April. The closest I count to escaping is standing out on the balcony for a little while until I start to feel claustrophobic, and then I make my way back inside. I finally got an apartment complex parking sticker, so I did end up bringing my car over, but it’s never left its parking spot since the day I came back from Greenburgh. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know who to go see.

Exhaustion begins to set in after moving everything around and rearranging my space. I don’t even make a run for lying down on my bed and instead settle sitting next to the deep, dark closet on the carpet. It’s not even 12 yet and this day is already going by too slow. I need it to be over. The goal is always getting to the next day without feeling the need to perish. Has it gotten easier? No. Am I starting to come to the conclusion that this accident was probably the one thing the universe did to me on purpose? Yes.

I hear a faint knock. At first, I think it’s at the bedroom door, but I hear footsteps make their way from the room next door all the way across the apartment. Someone’s here. Who is it? What do they want?

There’s a distant sound of voices. Are they conspiring on something? Does someone know I’m here? Are they coming to kick me out? Are we being invaded? Are they here to tell me that someone else is dead?

Now is the time when the footsteps approach the bedroom door. I hear a light knock. If it’s actually him on the other side, kudos to finally taking the hint at knocking. Every time that I’m in here, he never feels the need to. I could be standing naked in the middle of the room and he wouldn’t be able to burn that image out of his head. That would be the day where his embarrassment would’ve created a permanent fixture of remembering the importance of knocking on a door. It’s courteous. It’s considerate. It’s smart.

“Who is it?” I call out.

“It’s me.” Ah, yes, Mr. Boston boy!

“Come in.”

The door opens and he emerges onto the carpet, keeping his hand on the knob. He notices me sitting on the floor. “You, uh, you okay?” 

I cock my head at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Because you’re sitting on the floor.”

“Because I couldn’t find the energy to flop down on my bed after moving everything around.”

“I see.” He looks skeptical.

“Still find me weird?”

“Yeah, definitely. Hey, listen. Laf’s here. He says he’s got something to give you.”

“Laf?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I don’t know. You gotta go see it for yourself.”

What is this? What could he, out of all people, have to give me?

I gather myself off the floor and drag my feet on the carpet, following Jimmy out into the hallway. He was right. Gosh, I haven’t seen him since the funeral. It feels like years.

I walk past Jimmy to approach him first. He’s standing by the far side of the island. “Hey.” It comes out as a combination of curiosity and surprise.

“Hey, Abb.” 

“How, uh, how are you?”

Alexis looks around the apartment before back at me. “Good. I’m, uh, I’m flying back to Quebec in a few hours, so I’m not gonna be back in the states for a little while. I was cleaning out Ryan’s apartment for the new tenants and I came across this.”

I don’t even pay attention to what he’s holding. I ask the more important question first. “Wait, what do you mean you were cleaning out his apartment? They just decided to end his lease?”

He coughs. “Well, yeah. I mean, he’s not there. Landlord needs to clear out space.”

Yeah, I’m not buying it.

“Since I had his spare key, I spent a few days cleaning out what I could. I was looking through his room, and it took me forever, but I found something stored away in the back of his dresser.”

It’s when I look down at his hands and notice he’s holding a light blue bag. It’s got white tissue paper sticking out and a lime green envelope.

It’s my birthday present.

The one he forgot because he was in a rush.

The one he promised he would give to me after practice the next day.

And he broke that one, too.

I stare at it, wondering if I should even accept it. It’s two months overdue. I meet Alexis’ eyes. “You didn’t think to give this to me sooner?” My voice is riled with hesitation.

“There was never a right time. The funeral, the wake. Everything was happening so quickly that I wasn’t sure if I was going to bother. I had it sitting in my room for the longest time before I remembered that I was leaving, and it’s not like anyone else would’ve been able to get it. That’s why I’m here.”

“Did you peak?”

“No. It’s wrapped up pretty good. Your guess is as good as mine.”

I outstretch my arm to release the gift bag from his grip. I continue looking at it, as if there’s an unwanted surprise that’s going to jump out and scare me.

“You don’t have to open it now,” he says. “It’s whatever you want.”

I turn to look at Jimmy. He’s sitting against the back of the sofa. “Yeah, Abb, you don’t have to do it now. It’s probably something that would mean more if it were just you that opened it.”

I sigh, thinking over my options. I’ve done everything on my own for this long. This should be shared with someone else. It was the original intention anyway.

“No, I’ll open it now.” I pull out a chair from the island and sit down, deciding if I should focus on the card first or the actual gift at hand. I settle on the card. The writing will probably throw me in for a quick waterworks show. Shocker.

If you ever looked at Ryan first glance, you would assume that his physical appearance would indicate that he was very tough and manly. You could indicate based on his tone of voice that he was always so stoic and serious; never had time to joke around, didn’t seem like the type of person to let themselves have fun. Oh, you would’ve been so wrong.

I wouldn’t say that he was the absolute best at giving gifts, but I told him to never go over the top, whether it be for Christmas, Valentine’s Day, my birthday, our one and only anniversary. Did he ever listen to me, though? No. I’m about to be proven that.

I tap my fingers on the envelope, flipping it upside down and opening it. I wiggle the card out and turn to look at the front. It’s got an animated illustration of two cats. One’s playing with a ball of yarn and the other’s watching from afar on the couch. I don’t realize the destroyed birthday cake in the bottom corner. The cat on the couch has a speech bubble above its head, saying “The sweetest of lives are lived with you.” 

Alright, here it goes.

I open the card to read what’s in the middle. “Here’s to the rest of them. Happy Birthday.”

I drop it on the counter, head already in my hands. I let out a tiny squeak. This really is hitting a lot harder than I thought it would.

But it’s not over yet.

He filled up the whole card. Both sides.

If I’m being honest, Ryan would sometimes be an annoying little shit because he would choose not to communicate his feelings verbally, so that’s when he resorts to writing it out, whether through a card or a quick text or even on a Post-It note. He never ignored me deliberately. I’d give him some time for him to sort them all out, and then when he was ready, he would come find me and we would talk about what was bothering him. He would always start off with “It’s not because of you.” And he really meant it.

I direct my eyes to the top of the card and begin reading.

Dear Abby,

Happy 24th! It feels as if I’ve known you in a past life, and it’s given me the privilege of replicating in the real one. I’m gonna be sappy real quick. Where do I start? Oh, yeah, thank you for literally being the BEST girlfriend, the BEST person, the BEST human that I have ever had the pleasure of getting to know. I’m aware that I don’t tell you as often as I should, and that’s my fault, but you are everything to me. I’m fortunate to make you the happiest I’ve ever seen you, and you’re fortunate to make me the luckiest and most blessed man. I appreciate your mind and your heart; the way you care for everybody and only want what’s best for them, the way you’re never afraid to say what you want/need, the way you’ve become more comfortable as a player and a person, dealing with the consistent pressure to do well. You’ve handled it with such grace that I’m almost jealous, only because I wish I could do that. You are the greatest gift I could’ve ever received, so the one that I got you might finish in second place. Here I am to say that if not for you, I don’t know where I’d be. I guess the extra time of just remaining teammates and friends really paid off. I’m excited to celebrate with you and everyone else, and I can’t wait. You’re perfect. Just as you are. And to me, you always are. Excited for the next one. There is truly no one better, and there never will be. At least, not for me.

Love always,

Ry

I shove the card to the far edge of the countertop, distracting myself by ravaging through the gift bag like a hyper kid rushing through opening their presents on Christmas to see if they got the toys they asked Santa for. There’s two things. One is placed in a skinny, rectangular box, and the other is standing up, wrapped in blue tissue paper. It seems like it could be fragile, so I place it down gently on the counter without having it hang too close to the edge.

It almost seems like I’m opening the gifts by myself until I hear a shuffling noise in the background. It causes me to turn around in my chair. Laffy’s moved over to sit with Jimmy on the back of the couch. I furrow my eyebrows at them. “Why don’t you guys come over here and we can open it together?”

“We don’t wanna impose,” Alexis pipes up. “It’s not our business to know what he got you.”

“You’re not,” I say. “C’mon. Please?”

Both of them stand up and make their way to the kitchen area, still maintaining their space by hovering near the pantry. Good God, what are they so afraid of? What’s the worst they’ll have to do? Comfort me? Watch me cry? Grow up.

I start off with the box. I lift up the cover and my eyes are immediately drawn to the two presents inside that I don’t even know what to pick up first.

How about with tickets to Country Fest in Detroit Lakes in August?

He told me this was one of the reasons he always looked forward to summer. He went every year with friends and always had the best time. I kept mentioning that I would gladly go with him, even though I don’t religiously listen to country music like he did. Every time he’d drive us anywhere, it would always be on. He stuck to his true Midwestern roots, and never once let them go.

Is there even a point of using them now? He spent a good amount of money. I don’t want it going to waste. Maybe I’ll sell them or something. Why would I go when it’s not going to be intended quality time?

I reach to the second gift. I speculate on how to open it; that’s even if there’s a right way. I move the tissue paper, pushing it down until all of it hits the counter. The good news is that it’s not glass. Essentially, it’s two things in one. The first thing, giving way to its tall stature, was a rectangular pillow. It was red and white. Embroidered in large font and large letters, it read Abby & Ryan, and on the bottom, it read 05/22/2025. It had tiny red hearts protruding from each side. It looked stitched to perfection, handled with so much care. 

I stare at it for a couple seconds before snapping myself out of my trance and looking to find the next part. I scoff. As if it couldn’t get any worse than a personalized pillow.

It’s a personalized photo blanket.

With what looks to be several 4x6 and 5x7 photos all meshed into each other.

On the top, it reads A different type of warmth that will never die.

On the back, this time in smaller font, it reads Happy birthday. You’ve warmed my heart, and now it’s time for me to return the favor. -R

Just when I think it’s over, it’s not.

A container of something spills out from the middle of the blanket and onto the floor. I reach down from my chair to pick up. I see a tag attached to what looks like to be a bottle. I turn it over.

It’s his favorite cologne.

I look at the tag.

In case for when you start to miss me.

My lip starts to quiver, but I bite it so hard to prevent myself from a meltdown in front of one more person. I look over at the two men still lingering by the pantry. They’re looking along as well.

“Those are really nice, Abb,” Jimmy says. “Guess he meant it when he said you should’ve opened it in front of him.”

“Are you glad to have gotten them?” Alexis asks. “He really knew you like the back of your hand.”

I turn in my chair and face the both of them, one eye focusing on each. “Yeah, he did,” I mutter. 

I stand up and grab the gifts, stopping myself in my tracks before heading to my room. I look at Alexis and attempt to sound as grateful as I can. “Thanks for stopping by,” I say. “I’ll see you around. Be safe.”

He folds his mouth into a grimace and nods his head. “Of course,” he responds quietly. He reaches past me to retrieve the card off the counter. “You almost forgot this.”

I take it from his hand. “Thanks.” I walk past him and into my room, shutting the door. I let out a long, frustrated sigh. I quickly walk over to the deep, dark closet before I can change my mind, and lackadaisically throw the pillow and blanket on top of his equipment, shutting the door immediately. As for the card, cologne, and concert tickets, I walk in a different direction, this time to my nightstand drawer, and toss them in, closing it loudly. Sliding down the side of my bed, I find myself present on the carpet again, staring out at the balcony. It’s stopped raining, but everything is wet. Dreary. Diminished.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” I whisper under my breath. “You stupid fucking idiot. Can’t use this shit now. Couldn’t have held on for one more day, right? Took the easy way out, like Jim said? Forget how I feel. No one could understand. I mean, I’m sure you could. But you’re not here, so it doesn’t fucking matter.”

I hear mutters of conversation from the kitchen before I hear the door close. An exasperated sigh escapes Jimmy’s mouth. “Goddamn it,” I hear him say.

Well, at least we’ve finally agreed on something.

The unfortunate yet familiar footsteps creak outside my door. Another knock.

“What?”

“Do you want me to come in?” He sounds sad.

“Leave me alone.”

I don’t hear anything.

I try again. “You just gonna fuckin creep out there?”

“I was just gonna ask if you needed anything.”

“I need you to go the fuck away.”

“I-”

“JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO!”

The door opens.

Alright, time to kill him.

I hear his footsteps on the carpet. “Where are you?” his voice calls from behind me.

“Dead.”

He follows the trail of my voice and finds me sitting next to the nightstand and up against the bed. “Nice try.”

I shrug. “Not like it’d be hard.”

“Abb-”

“I told you to go away and you still don’t listen.”

“Because you’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, I think you are.”

“I literally just said I’m not.”

He kneels down on the carpet, sitting on his right leg. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Now, see. That’s a lie.”

“Oh, what the fuck do you know?”

“I know that you’re upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not.” He sounds legitimately serious.

“Yeah, I am. I think I can manage.”

“Have you, though?”

The tips of my ears start to burn.

“Not in the way you want me to.”

Got him there once again.

“I think you should talk to someone.”

What an absolute abomination.

I heavily focus on the balcony, shifting my focus to the trees in the distance past the buildings. “I absolutely do not. I already talk to you.”

“Yeah, barely.”

Okay, it was in due time he returned the hypocrisy back to me.

“It’s like you don’t wanna talk about it. You can’t let it eat you up for so long. Everything’s going to come out one way or another.” Wow, how inspiring for a man who went to a fucking Ivy League, Daddy’s money funded institution. The advice can seriously not get any better.

“Is it finished eating you up, or has it never bit you to begin with?”

Jimmy sighs. “It lingers around from time to time.”

“Then you can’t tell me to spill it all out. I don’t have anything to say.”

“So all of your underlying feelings are gone for good?”

Pause.

“You’re brave enough to leave out the pillow and blanket on your bed?”

Another pause.

He motions to stand up. “That’s exactly what I thought. Seriously, though, you should talk to somebody. It doesn’t have to be me, but I think it’d feel a little less heavy if you expressed how you feel. You know?”

I look up at him, my eyes seething with rage that is invisible to him. “No, I don’t know,” I snap. “Maybe you should talk to someone to help with your nosiness.”

He laughs.

“I’m not kidding, Jim. You need to give me space. Still haven’t learned that, either. Who ever knew you were so stubborn?”

“I give you space. You’re always locked away in here. It’s like there’s nowhere better you’d wanna be.”

Actually, there is one alternative.

He continues. “You do know you are allowed to leave here, right? You can go out and drive around the city for a little bit. You can go to the park and feed the ducks. Hell, we could maybe go out and get dinner once in awhile. Have you ever thought about the idea that we haven’t spent any time together?”

I roll my eyes. “That’s all we do.”

He shakes his head quickly from side to side. “No, Abby, I mean really spend time together. I’m talking about actually walking around Manhattan and spending the afternoon acting like tourists or going for a quick run around the block. I feel that I’m somewhat confined here too because you refuse to leave.”

I blink at him, then look away.

“Just think on it, okay? Remaining trapped in here isn’t going to make anything easier. I think it’d be good for us to go out and get some air. Obviously, not today, but sometime in the near future.”

“You have no idea what’s good for me.”

He sighs frustratedly. “You’re right. I don’t. But I think a step in this direction might have us both uncover what actually is.”

I don’t say anything.

“Wanna give it a shot?”

I lift up my hands and slap them against my knees. “Fine.”

“Okay. And with that, I will now leave you alone.”

Finally.

He walks across the carpet again and grabs hold of the door, shutting it quietly behind him. The footsteps disappear.

I have to admit, he’s not wrong. I have been making the decision to stay in the apartment. It’s not helping me, but it’s what I’ve adjusted to. Why change the routine when it’s working? No one else needs to agree. No one has to support it. No one has to approve. I’m choosing how I deal with it. And it’s enough.

The rest of the day is spent in my own head. I don’t even attempt to start another conversation with him. All he’s gonna do is talk about what he thinks I need to change. I don’t wanna say that he’s trying to force it on me, but I just feel that constant pressure to be over it by now. Every single day has not been easy since. The saying “Try to be a rainbow in someone else’s cloud” is exactly what he’s trying to do. He’s anything but a rainbow. More of a category 5 hurricane trying to wash everything away and take me with him.

It’s dark out now, the stars illuminating the sky. The post-rain air has made its way in. I’ve opened the balcony doors to cool down my room. The distant sound of traffic makes me temporarily miss being stuck in it. The bright LED lights on the store signs makes me tempted to go down and walk through the doors of one. The sturdiness of the black railing makes me want to sit on the edge and drop from it.

But I won’t. That’s too easy.

In fact, I know an easier way.

The closet has made its return. I open the door and grab the pillow and blanket, tossing them to the floor behind me. Stepping over them, I walk in the opposite direction to the nightstand where I placed the card, cologne, and concert tickets. I take all three and place the tickets inside the card. As for the cologne, I wrap it up in the blanket. I pick everything up off the floor and make my way out to the balcony. I stand there for a few moments, clutching it all tightly against my chest. I can’t bear to hold onto it. My arms are getting tired. Everything about me is just tired. It never seems to end. Two months later and he’s still finding a way to haunt me, this time through gifts that I cannot utilize. You know what? Maybe it was a good thing I had to wait so long to get them. They sure weren’t going to help me anyway.

I drop everything over the balcony, watching it fall to the concrete. Then, I shut the doors and close the curtains. I do the same thing with the closet and crawl my way into the bed, turning off the lamp. If I am not allowed to enjoy these things to my fullest potential, then no one else will be allowed to. Fuck him.

As I drift off to sleep, I can’t help but think about a random stranger finding them on the sidewalk and just stealing it for themselves. All of that is personalized. It was just for me. Doesn’t matter. It can make someone else happy now. There’s no coming back from that, and I don’t think that I’m ever going to.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The chirpy birds serve as my alarm as I keep my head buried in my pillow. “God, leave me alone,” I mumble.

The sun has returned, as I see it peaking on the carpet. There’s only so much light that can protrude through before it becomes an eyesore. Aggravated weekend traffic has resumed, given the nonstop honking. It helps to know that other people must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, too. Dragging myself out from under the covers, I sit on the side of the bed and vigorously rub my eyes. It’s clear the eyebags are still there. I’ve thought it would’ve become a permanent part of my physical appearance by now. Strands of hair fall next to my eyes, temporarily interfering with my ability to see. I push it out of the way and grip the bed, my feet landing on the carpet first before I stand myself up. Ignoring the closed curtains, I open one of the balcony doors and overlook the city before looking down at the spot where all of the gifts landed.

They’re gone.

Well, that’s a relief, I think to myself. The worst case scenario would have it still be lying there. At least it held enough value for someone to take it. Whoever that person was, they definitely hit the jackpot. Enjoy.

I walk back into my room and shut the door, keeping the curtains where they are. Making my way toward the actual door, I handle the knob before emerging out into the kitchen. There’s something on the counter. It looks big. It’s definitely taking up space. However, it doesn’t look edible, so it’s not breakfast. I walk a little further to get a better look.

First, I’m met with the judgmental eyes of the man of the year. His hands are planted on the counter. I can see his veins. I’ll go under the assumption that he’s building some type of tension there.

And then I’m met with the pillow. And the blanket. And the card. And the cologne. And the concert tickets.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.” I can tell he’s so over it. You’re not the only one.

“No, I really don’t.” I walk over to the living room area, looking out the window so that I don’t have to face him. “How did you even find it?”

“I’m not an idiot, Abby. I was taking out the trash and I saw everything lying there. I mean, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking to get rid of it.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because I don’t need it.”

“Hey, you know how much he must’ve spent on all of that to give it to you?”

“Yeah, well, he never did, did he?”

Another deafening silence.

“You could at least store it so that it’s not just lying away.”

“Oh, yeah, for it to only collect dust? What a real smart idea.”

“It’s better than having it spread out on the concrete in Manhattan.”

“I was doing myself a favor.”

“Which was what?”

“Getting rid of him.” I move to the other window on the other side of the TV, still avoiding any type of contact.

“I don’t think that’s the right way to do that.”

“I don’t give a damn what you think.” I raise my voice in the slightest octave. “Why can’t you just let me do things the way I want to? You keep trying to save something that’s already gone. There’s no need to salvage it.”

“You can’t replace these things.”

“It’s not a matter of replacing. It’s a matter of letting go. Something you’ve already done.”

“And something you’re not even remotely close to doing, so why start now?”

Ouch.

“Abb, you need to get help.”

Here we go again.

“I don’t need help.”

“Yeah, you do. If you were thinking clearly, you wouldn’t have even thought of throwing away those memories.”

“They’re not memories, they’re pity prizes.”

“Fine, call them whatever you want. In the meantime, I’m gonna call someone who can work this out with you.”

“No.”

“You have not left this place since the day we got back from the funeral. Go out, get some air, and I’m not talking about just standing on the balcony. I mean really go out and take some time for yourself.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna join me?” I reply sarcastically. “That’s a first.”

“I’m worried about you.”

Those words cause me to turn and look at him. “Now you’re worried about me? A month ago, you wished that I was dead, but all of a sudden, you care? Your empathy’s been restored? Your heart’s finally started beating again?”

“Your’s hasn’t.”

Ouch again.

“I can’t stand to see you like this,” Jimmy says. “We need to figure something out.”

We? I thought this time, it’d be me. You know, since it’s been us against each other.

“Not now.”

“Okay, fine, not now, but soon. I don’t wanna go out one day and come back here and see you passed out on the floor.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Oh, I think I do.”

“Jim, I promise that you don’t.”

He lifts his hands from the counter, moving them to his hips. “How do I not know that you throwing that stuff off the balcony was alluding to someone else doing the exact same thing?”

“Because it’s not.”

He rolls his eyes. “I give up with you. Really, I do.”

I just stare back at him.

He walks over to the direction of where I’m standing by the window, positioned toward the door as if he’d leave. “I am letting you know right now that if you ever, ever, ever try to pull something like that on me, and I’m the one that finds you, and they’re not able to get you back, I will never forgive myself. You understand? I know that I seem like a helicopter whirring over you, but seriously, it’s in my best interest. I know that you don’t trust me right now, and that’s fine. I’m just gonna put it out there and say that doing what you might want to do as a last resort and getting away with it, if you fail, it’s going to take a long time to earn my trust back. I’ve always been here for you, and it’s only fair you do the same. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Directing himself back to the kitchen, Jimmy reaches into the pantry and pulls out a brown paper bag. He got bagels again.

“Pick the one you want and I’ll throw it in the toaster,” he instructs.

With slight hesitancy, I make my way to the island, peering through the bag. It smells so good, so fresh. I think Sunday bagel breakfasts should be a little tradition that we start. I’ll ask him at a better time. Choosing the sesame seed bagel, I give it to Jimmy, who cuts it down the middle and pops it in the toaster. He does the same to his bagel. This time, he chose an everything one. I’m surprised he deterred from the plain. You’d think it’d be impossible for him to give up that consistent routine of picking it, but I won’t call him out. I always thought plain bagels were boring, and the man that loves them is surely not.

“Jim?”

He turns around, not even looking at me. He’s handing me a plate. “Yeah?”

“Are you really that worried about me?”

A disgruntled sigh leaves his mouth. “Abby, I literally did not sleep that night because even I couldn’t figure out what was really going on. Frequently, I can’t sleep because I think about how you might not wake up after I find out you’ve done something to yourself. I don’t like the change in mood. I’m not blaming you by any means, but I’ve noticed that it’s become a little more drastic and I just wish that I could have a bigger role in stopping its growth.”

“Then just watch me sleep from now on,” I reply. “You’ve done it before.”

He scoffs. “C’mon, I’ve never done that.”

“I once heard my door open while I was sleeping and then shut like 20 seconds later. It would’ve been impossible if someone wasn’t there to twist the knob.”

Another sigh. “Okay, fine, it was me.”

I smile. “No shit, Sherlock. Do you want me to move in your room, share a bed? I call left side.”

He laughs. “I’m good. Plus, it would be your turn of invading my privacy.”

I bat my eyes at him. “Yeah, but I’d only be trying to help you, right?”

“Fuck off,” he responds, and I giggle.

The toaster dings and Jimmy turns around, taking out both bagels. He hands mine over to my plate and slides the cream cheese over. “I know you’d never voluntarily take butter.”

I take a knife and open the container, sticking it in and spreading it on the first half. “You know what’s funny? I always thought you were a butter guy.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s too much sodium for my liking. You can buy several flavors of cream cheese, while butter just remains the same. It gets redundant after awhile.”

“Like me?”

There goes the puppy-dog eyes. That’s when I know he’s about to be serious with his words. “Anyone but you.”

Anyone but you.

Anyone but me.

The world could end tomorrow and he’d probably want to spend the last few minutes with me, wouldn’t he?

I don’t think so. Nice try.

Breakfast is quick and quiet as always. I don’t even end up finishing all of my bagel. I tell him that I’ll save it for later. Both of us know that’s not true.

I get up from my chair and motion toward my room. That is until I forget the gifts are still sitting on the counter. No. I don’t wanna bear the weight of them in my arms again. I’d be carrying the burden right back in when I don’t need it. However, I’ve somewhat succumbed to the thought already. Would it really make a difference?

Picking up from where I left off, dead in my tracks, I lift my feet again and head toward my place of solace. Again, it can’t hurt me if I don’t see it. Well, that doesn’t apply to everything, but whatever.

Shutting the door, I walk over to the nightstand and grab the remote, turning on the TV and flipping through the channels. Brain rotting for the rest of the day sounds better than talking about nothing.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday was the same.

Tuesday was too.

Wait, what day comes after Tuesday? Last time I checked, I was repeating the same cycle over and over.

I’m awoken not by my alarm, but my phone lighting up my home screen. It sent me a notification. It’s a message.

And of course, who else would it be from?

It reads Ran out to get us Dunkin. I’ll be back in a little bit

How long is a little bit? Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? Ten hours? Hell, not coming back at all?

I drag myself out of bed and head straight for the door, opening it to walk the short distance into the bathroom. I shut the door and turn on the light. Staring at myself in the mirror, I evaluate my reflection. She’s unrecognizable again. The hair is too messy, the face is forming boarders of stress zits (at least that’s what I suppose), the eyebags look a little heavier, skin a little paler, brain more foggier.

I grip my hands on the sink and wander my eyes down to the counter. Jimmy was obviously in here before he left. His toothbrush looks to be drying and a razor sitting on the marble countertop.

I pick up the razor, looking down at the shiny blade with what feels like not a wave of exhaustion, but a wave of dehydration coming over me. It occurs that I never filled up my water bottle before I went to bed. I could always get up in the middle of the night and refill it, but I don’t wanna wake him. Besides, I’ve never felt comfortable being active in the late night hours. How weird to be awake when everyone else is asleep.

My vision starts to blur, and I immediately grab the counter for support. I crouch down onto the floor an lay my legs down on the bathmat and my head back against the wall, shutting my eyes. Gosh, I’m freezing. It’s not like the A.C. is on. I blindly fumble for the razor that’s still sitting on the sink, feeling it fall into my lap. I press the blade to my face, feeling the cool metal rest on some part of my body. Surely, it will help.

But it doesn’t.

I move it to my kneecaps. Nope, not there, either.

I pin it to my wrist. That’s the spot.

The feeling of goosebumps take over my body, legs shaking at the sensation. I still can’t see clearly. Shutting my eyes again, the blade traces around my wrist. I still feel cold.

One slow, steady motion.

And then another.

A rapid gasp escapes my mouth, settling into the intruding warmth. Now I feel better.

Until I don’t.

Between the dizziness and the absence of sharp metal doing everything it can to keep me warm, my head slides off the wall and hits the floor. It’s at a cool temperature. I don’t feel myself starting to slow down, but my eyes are pressed closed. I can feel my lips slowly part.

I see him. He’s smiling. He’s been waiting for me. “There you are, babe. I hated waiting this long. Let’s go finish the story we never got to write.”

I take a weak yet deep breath. “Okay.”

And then he’s guiding me past the gates.

Or so I think.

He disappears. Where did he go? I guess this pattern of leaving continues in the afterlife.

Or so I think again.

He comes back with his A bracelet. He smirks. “You really thought I left without it, huh?”

I shake my head, smiling. “But I did.”

“Don’t worry about that. That’s what this place is for. It’s all about fresh starts.”

A fresh start, you say?

“I can’t believe you’d do that for me,” he continues.

I look into his bright blue eyes. “I had no other choice.”

“Of course you did.”

“And what was that?”

“To live.”

I look back at him with a blank stare.

He grabs me by the hand. “Live for me.”

I sigh. “But I already did.”

“No, you didn’t. You’ve barely even started.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Sure you can. You’ve done it for 2 months already. It’s just the rest of your life to go.”

“That’s a long time.”

“You know what? Maybe it is. Soon enough, you’ll be here when you need to. But not right now.”

“What do you mean?”

I see the gates open. He turns around, dragging me by the arm.

“Go live for me, will you?”

I try to escape his grip. “No, no, I can’t do it again! Why can’t I just come with you?”

“Because that’s not how this is going to work.”

“Well, then, how is it going to work?”

“It starts with you waking up each day and me not being the first thought. You’ll move on from there.”

“But I don’t want to!” I yell in earshot.

“Gonna have to, babe,” he responds. “You’ve got people waiting for you.”

‘Yeah, like who?”

“Your family, the team, anyone that you have ever known is anxiously awaiting your return.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Then why do I see you lying down on the gurney in the back of an ambulance?”

What?

“Why does Jim’s face look red, like he’s just finished crying?”

But he’s never cried. What is he even doing here?

“Why are you intubated?”

I don’t know.

“Why did your heart stop beating again?”

It’s never beaten since you’ve left.

“Why are paramedics pushing down on your chest?”

It’s a lost cause.

“Okay, never mind, babe, you came back. Whew! That was a close one.”

Damn it.

“Oh, the ambulance stopped! I think we’re here!”

Great.

“Hey! New York Presbyterian! I died here! What makes me think they’re gonna save you?”

I hope they don’t.

“You know what, Abby? You might have actually gotten your wish.”

God do I hope so.

“Aw man, do you see Jim’s face? Look at it. He looks scared out of his mind, like he saw a ghost or something. I’ve never seen him like that.”

Me either.

“Yeah, you might wanna turn around and walk back through these gates. Once you wake up, he’s gonna kill you.”

I’d dare to see him try.

“You’re really brave for doing this on his birthday. What a great present for him to have, right?”

Oh, no.

Wait.

Wait.

Oh, my God.

I forgot about that.

“Still wanna go back?”

No.

Anywhere but there.

“Help me,” I manage to say.

“Oh, honey, I can’t help you,” he begins. “But I can guide you, make sure you don’t do anything like that ever again.”

“I wanna go with you.”

“No, you failed this time. You’re not ready.”

“But I am.”

“You will be very soon.” He kisses my hand. “I gotta go. Do me a favor and wake up, yeah?”

And that’s exactly what I do.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My eyes struggle with fluttering open, but I feel another cool metal surface beneath my hands. It definitely doesn’t feel like the bathroom.

It’s quiet. I can hear distant murmurs, but none of them can be picked up on in a close distance.

I wiggle my fingers and then my toes. My vision slowly starts to come back, too.

The first thing I notice is the grippy socks that are covering my feet. They’re blue. They barely fit. Something’s not right.

After that, I look at the closed door. There are signs on the back of it, depicting a pain scale and informational resources. Physically, my pain is a 10. Emotionally, my pain is a 10 too, thanks for asking.

On my left side, there’s a sink with a long countertop and numerous cabinets. I wonder what’s in them.

I start to feel like I’ve been stripped of my clothes. That’s because I have been. 

I look down ay my legs and notice I’m covered in a cotton gown. It’s got blue and white designs. I’m starting to feel warm again.

My wrists feel tight, and that’s because of the bandages and gaws that are taped down. It’s difficult to move them around. Wait a minute. Why do I have bandages on?

I take a deep breath and divert my gaze into the corner. I see a shadow sitting in a chair. It’s slightly hunched over, their face buried in their hands. I don’t think it’s crying, but it sure looks discombobulated.

I don’t even know who it is.

The shadow lifts itself up from its bent position, sitting up straight now. I can hear the tapping of one of their shoes on the floor. A shaky breath, rubbing their hands on their thighs. A sniff of the nose. The feeling of their eyes watching me.

I look down at my right wrist. It’s got a bracelet on it. Only it’s not the one with the R in the middle.

It looks like an admitted bracelet.

It’s got my name, birthday, and unit that I’m placed in.

Emergency.

What happened?

I look back up to the shadow.

Only it’s not a shadow anymore.

There’s an actual person sitting there.

An actual person has come to see me? Oh, how sweet.

That is until I get a better look.

At him. 

Ryan was right.

Jimmy. 

He’s actually sitting there.

RIght where I can see.

And it looks like it’ll be his turn to kill me.

His face is red, his body completely on high alert. He might just bounce out of that chair if someone opens up that door.

He doesn’t say anything. He looks at me with the darkest set of eyes I have ever seen. It’s like they’ve lost their sparkle, their shine. Let’s just say they’ve gone lifeless.

He’s not the only one.

I stare back at him. I can feel my glasses on my face, helping me see him better. Come to think of it, I’m not sure if I’ve ever noticed him look so utterly hopeless. Not until this moment, at least.

I don’t say anything either. I’m waiting for one of his sarcastic, knife-stabbing words to take a dagger at my heart. You know, the one that literally stopped beating? That’s a first occurrence where I don’t have to live in a figurative state of mind.

Everything about him looks absolutely disheveled. His face, his clothes, his hands that are holding so much tension right now, given that I can see his veins, that I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to strangle me and have me go for another round.

But he doesn’t budge.

And with sudden abruptness, as the door starts to open, he quietly says these three words.

“You promised me.”

I just sit there, no change in expression. Wait, what did I promise him?

Both an ER doctor and nurse emerge from behind the door. The doctor is a middle-aged man, probably not too much older than Jimmy. The nurse is a woman with her shiny blonde hair in a slick ponytail. She’s got pink and purple pens sitting in her coat pocket. Neither of them look excited. Instead, sad.

The doctor opens his mouth as the nurse shuts the door. “Hi, I’m Dr. Sanderson.” He points to the nurse. “And this is Dr. Rileston. She’s gonna take some of your vitals real quick.”

I adjust my sitting position on the bed, watching Dr. Rileston listen to my heart, both on my chest and upper back, “Elevated, but steady,” she reports.

Then she takes my blood pressure. “Elevated, but steady,” she repeats.

Then I have to follow the pink pen waving in front of my eyes. “Alert and functioning. Doesn’t look like there’s any signs of brain damage.”

Guess she’s a woman of few words. Concise and to the point.

That’s how I wish our conversations would go.

It’s time for Dr. Sanderson to possibly interrogate me. “Can you recall what you were doing before the attempt? Do you remember what happened? Anything helps, even if it’s the smallest detail.”

I swallow the saliva in my throat. “I don’t know,” I squeak out. “I was in the bathroom and then got dizzy, so I sat on the floor.”

“And you don’t remember taking anything with you?”

I pause. “No, but I did get cold.”

He clears his throat. “There was a profuse amount of bleeding from both your wrists when paramedics arrived. Not before your friend here found you.”

I’ve just made his most recent nightmare an actual reality.

“He said,” gesturing to Jimmy, “that you were pale and your lips were dry. Could it be that you were dehydrated before this?”

“That explains the dizziness, I guess,” I reply soft spokenly.

“He found a razor in your right hand. That was yours, I presume?”

I don’t answer.

“Based on the extent of the injury, we can assume that this was intentional?”

I don’t answer again.

“Yes.”

That didn’t come from me.

Dr. Sanderson turns his attention to Jimmy. “It was?”

He meets his eyes. They’re not glassy, but they might as well could be. “I’m completely positive.”

I hate him even more than I ever thought I did.

“Has she ever had thoughts of killing herself?”

“Yeah, she’s joked about it a couple times.”

I hate him.

“She lost her boyfriend in a car accident 2 months ago. Hasn’t been the same since.”

I hate you.

“Any changes in mood, appetite, lifestyle?”

Jimmy answers for me again because God forbid I should. Who cares? Let the man blabber on.

“She has her own place, but she’s been living with me for the time being. Appetite’s been the same, but I’ve noticed her not eating as much, let alone finishing her meals. I’ll say that her mood tends to differ, but honestly, she’s been upset and sounds a little hopeless that nothing will get better. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have done this.”

It feels like a knife being stabbed to the heart.

“Are you concerned about her inflicting harm on yourself or others?” Dr. Sanderson asks.

I look at him, and then at Jimmy.

“She’s already done so, just not physically. But to answer the question, no, I am not.”

Did he really have to mention that first part? Of course he did.

“Well, we have two options here,” Dr. Sanderson continues. “We can keep her here under 48-72 hour watch and then refer her to grief counseling, where they’ll prescribe her treatment, or we can get someone in here to clean and bandage up the cuts, give you the referrals, and then you’ll be on out of here.” He looks at Jimmy. “It’s up to you.”

Wait.

It’s not up to me?

“Given her current status, we’d feel more comfortable if someone else were to make the decision. The situation can account for not being in the right mental space to think about something like that.”

Seriously?

“If I were to keep her here, she’d have to be admitted, right?”

Oh, don’t tell me-

Dr. Sanderson nods. “We’d admit her to the ICU, have a nurse check in on her about every hour or so, perhaps bring a psychiatrist down and speak with her about options to seek help.”

God, I hate that word.

I can tell that Jimmy’s concentrating. I don’t think he’s even afraid of saying the wrong thing. If he wants to get the hell away from me, get some temporary freedom, maybe it’s his best choice to have me stay.

He catches me looking. Please, please don’t do what I think you might. However, he has every option to do so. As we’ve already established, I’m not in control of this decision because I’m too weak, too empty minded. What kind of patient care is this? I swear it has to be some sort of hoax. It’s gotta be, right? No.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll let her get bandaged up.”

Oh, thank God.

Dr. Sanderson tilts his head, perhaps in uncertainty. “You certain?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy replies. “She’s not a danger to anyone.”

“But do you think she is to herself?”

“I don’t think she ever will be again after this.”

He sighs. “Alright, then. We’ll have a nurse come in and clean the cuts, then stitch them up.”

Jimmy clears his throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dr. Sanderson replies. He and Dr. Rileston walk out the door, shutting it behind them.

The sound of noise coming from the hallway is the only one that fills the room. I hear a loud, frustrated sigh, face buried in hands again.

I stare up at the clock. It’s a little past 11:30. It feels like we’re here at night, but my mind is playing tricks on me. I want to get out of here.

Neither one of us thinks about talking. He’s too distraught, and I can’t take back what I did. I can’t justify it. I will say this, though: He is definitely having a harder time at grasping this than I am. Did he seriously think it wouldn’t happen? I literally warned him.

There’s a knock on the door. A woman enters. She’s got curly brown hair and glasses. “Hi, I’m Dr. Cole,” she says. “We’re just gonna clean and sterilize these cuts and then bandage them up good as new. I’m just gonna remove these gaws, okay?”

I don’t even nod. Instead, I zone out on the posters plastered on the wall. Then, I decide to close my eyes. Perhaps I can transport myself into another world where I meet with him under different circumstances. That was until I feel the rubbing alcohol make contact with my left wrist, making me wince.

“Yeah, it might sting a little bit. Just gotta hang in there.”

Oh, I’ll try.

Jimmy can’t even bear to look at me. He’s got his phone in between his hands, probably texting the group chat (you know, the one without me, of course) about what happened. Then again, it is everybody’s business, right?

I don’t know it took me this long to see this, but he’s got my purse resting on his lap. He seriously thought to bring it? Okay.

Dr. Cole moves her spinny chair over to my right wrist, starting the cleaning process. I turn away from the both of them, staring at the cabinets. I wonder what hospitals really keep in there. I’ve never seen them open, let alone be touched. Are they just there for show? The rubbing alcohol burns my skin again, so I clench my left hand into a fist, digging my fingernails into my palm, forming tiny crescents. It’s only a few seconds before she applies this cream onto my cut, taking away the uncomfortable sensation. She goes back to my left side and does the same for my other one. Finally, she takes the bandages resting on the tray and unwraps the roll, cutting it with scissors at an appropriate length before lifting my wrist and rolling it around tightly until it ends. She repeats the procedure once more.

“Given the depth of the cuts, there is a possibility they might scar if you don’t take care of them,” she says. “You’ll want to clean them out with rubbing alcohol and any kind of anti-inflammatory cream. It will decrease the current bits of swelling and the risk of infection.”

Great. Another thing to keep on top of.

She gives me a sympathetic smile, but I barely look at her. “You’re all set. One of you will just need to sign out at the front desk, and then Dr. Sanderson told me to remind you about doing research on certain grief counselors in the area. He’s already got a list printed out.”

Jimmy nods. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” She shuts the door behind her.

I sit up from the bed, my legs dangling off of it. I hold on to the tiny bit of courage I have to speak. “Do you know where my clothes are?”

He reaches underneath his chair, my pajamas scrunched up in a plastic bag. Yeah, that totally doesn’t elicit a similar memory.

He extends his arm out for me to grab it. “I’ll let you change,” he mutters, not even looking at me, as he stands up and opens the door, shutting it quietly behind him. I don’t hear the footsteps fading away. He’s seriously trying to guard me? When will it end?

I notice that he took my purse with him. Does he not know I could easily wear it myself? Why can’t I just get through to him? It’s exhausting.

I undo the knot on the back of the gown and shimmy my way out of it, the only thing remaining on being my underwear. I open the bag and fumble for my bra, T-shirt, and shorts. Oh, and don’t forget the slippers (Yeah, he totally picked those out. I guess those would be the easiest to put in there). After I’ve put everything on, I take one last look around the room. It’s a miracle he chose to let me leave. Someone in their right mind would have me remain here against my will, but I don’t think it would do him any better if he wouldn’t be around to check on me. Guess I’ve signed up for more of his helicopter “parenting.”

Opening the door, I slowly walk out, looking around for him. Where the heck did he go?

And then I spot him at the front desk with the receptionist. I would assume he’s signing me out. In his right hand, he’s holding what I believe to be Dr. Sanderson’s list and a bunch of brochures. Damn, he’s really not gonna give me the chance to explain myself, huh?

Then again, I’m not sure if this can be worth an explanation. 

He turns around and notices me awkwardly hanging by the door, motioning his head toward the exit. Ah, I see we’re on no speaking terms again. I walk as quick as I can in my slippers and remain behind him. He’s literally walking so fast that it’s freaking me out. I’m afraid he’s actually planning on abandoning me.

Just as I think that, he stops dead in his tracks on the pavement outside the hospital. Turning around again and looking at me, I’m expecting him to start a scene. No, he wouldn’t do that. His self-control is too high. He walks a little closer, my heartbeat picking up speed, the opposite of what it did just around two and a half hours ago.

“I rode in the ambulance, so obviously, I can’t drive home. I’m gonna order an Uber, ‘kay?”

He sounds impatient, if anything, the tiniest amount of pissed off. I don’t even bother to respond.

We find a bench to sit on that surrounds the flowers growing in their own little corner. They’re so many different colors. The miniscule attention to detail when it comes to those things do not usually go unnoticed. They’re always so pretty that I wish I could pick one up from the dirt and take it home. I’m obviously not going to do it now, but it’s just a thought. It’s a nice distraction.

He’s looking out at the parking lot, watching cars roll on by, pull into an unoccupied spot, people entering and exiting. Anything he can do to avoid me. I don’t blame him.

“Could I have my purse, please?” I ask.

He flings it over to me, hitting me on the thigh. I bite my tongue, doing my very damn best not to cry. That action alone can signify he’s already given up on me.

I clutch it in my hands, my eyes already starting to burn. No. I will not let him win. Not today, at least.

Side-eyeing him, I can see he’s on his phone again, probably telling the group chat ‘Oh, hey, she’s walking free! Without being given any time to think about her decisions! Isn’t that great? Fuck yeah!’ His leg bounces like it’s an out-of-control bug that’s buzzing around a room. I wanna hold it down so it can stop, but I’m sure he’d lose his mind at the thought of me, out of all people, attempting to provide any comfort to him right now.

Our Uber shows up about 5 minutes later. At least it wasn’t too long of a wait. I don’t know how more I could’ve continued sitting next to someone who has all of their emotions bottled up and slowly leaking from a powder keg. If it won’t happen today, I’ve delayed the inevitable. And that’s my fault. I know.

Entering the backseat, I sit down quietly, putting on my seatbelt and listening to Jimmy giving the driver the address before we take off. I try to remove all of the voices in my head by staring out the window. The sun is shining at perhaps its highest angle of the day, and I’m not even halfway through it yet. It’s almost blinding, but maybe it can cleanse my eyes, help me see in a different light. Bad joke, sorry.

The drive is dead silent that you could hear a pin drop. I wanna jump out of a moving vehicle again. It feels like I’m suffering, as this could’ve been the worst punishment the universe chose to grant me. However, I think the worst punishment has already occurred. There’s no need for another one.

When we make it back to the apartment, both of us get out of the car and walk through the parking lot to get up to the entrance doors. He doesn’t even wait for me. That’s deserved.

I see him get in the elevator and watch the doors immediately close. It’s okay. I’ll wait for the next one. When the next one does arrive, I step in slowly, pressing the ‘4’ on the keypad. As the doors close again, this time around me, I have never felt more alone. I’m so used to him being next to me that I recently started to push him away without totally realizing it. It’s not like I reached my goal, but my actions and attitudes are continued catalysts for it to actually become a thing, where I’ll have to listen to him telling me to pack my things and go back home and to never come here again. Because I didn’t promise him.

The doors open and I walk out, tiptoeing down the hallway. The apartment door is still open, so at least he didn’t forget that I was still trailing behind. I thought it would be in his benefit to not let me in at all. Luckily, I have a key. Unless he actually locks it with the latch. I won’t have so much luck then.

Walking through the entrance, I notice the Dunkin sitting on the counter. He’s got his regular, bland, boring coffee, and for me a matcha latte. He knows how much I love it. There’s a corresponding bag next to it. I think there’s donuts in there, but at this point, I don’t think I’ll ever get to know.

He’s sitting on the couch. The TV’s not on, so I’m not sure what he’s staring at. I shut the door behind me and lock it. That’s enough to grab his attention and shift his frame to intimidate me once again.

“Get the hell over here,” he says gravelly.

I kick off my slippers and walk over hesitantly. I stand on the rug that’s beneath the couch.

“Sit down,” he continues.

I sit on the coffee table in front of him.

“Look at me.”

Again, why should I?

I do it anyway. His face isn’t red anymore, but you can tell the life has been drained right out of it. He doesn’t look relaxed; in fact, kinda the same way he did after we drove back from packing up my things at my condo.

“What-,” he begins, “in the hell,” he pauses, “is wrong with you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

He scoffs angrily. “You don’t know? I’ll let the blood on the bathroom floor do the talking then.”

“I’m s-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” He seethes through his teeth. “You are not, and you sure as hell ain’t getting out of it this time.”

I look down at my bandaged wrists.

“How could you be so selfish?”

I continue looking down. “I wasn’t.”

“Really? That type of action doesn’t scream selfish to you?”

“No,” I whisper softly.

“What was that?”

“No.”  I say it a little louder.

Another frustrated sigh makes its way out of his mouth. “Do you wanna hear my side of the story?”

I don’t, but I know he’s going to tell me anyway, rubbing more salt in the wound.

“I walked through the door, put everything down on the counter, and saw your bedroom door was open, so I thought you were in there. It didn’t take me long to see the bathroom door, though, was closed. So, I had to make a choice, figuring out where I thought you were. I chose the bathroom. I walk over to the door, knock on it, call out your name. No answer. I knock on it again. No answer. I notice it’s unlocked, so I open it, bracing myself to accidentally walk in on you using the bathroom as worse case scenario. I don’t even get to move it halfway before I just see you lying there, motionless, my razor in your hand.”

Can’t even imagine how he feels right now.

“It takes me a quick minute to notice the blood trickling on the floor, trying to figure out where the hell it’s coming from. I thought you might’ve accidentally ran into the wall or something and passed out.” He smiles as he scoffs. “Oh, boy, was I wrong.”

Can’t even look at him.

“So I back out of there, my hand literally shaking as I grab my phone on the counter, dial 911, speak to the operator, telling her my name, my address, why I’m calling, waiting for paramedics to arrive. They knock on the door. I let them in. They rush into the bathroom, hook you up to the Lifepak. The lead paramedic tells me you’re not breathing. He says it’s perhaps due to the amount of blood you lost. I watch them lift you up on the gurney, buckle you in as I’m running into your room to grab your things. The bed’s not made, the blinds aren’t open, nothing’s the way it should be. I grab your slippers to make sure you have shoes to walk in. I grab my things off the counter and follow them out. My heart is beating one million miles a minute. I feel like I might as well have a heart attack in that moment to be dramatic.”

Still can’t.

“And we’re in the back of the ambulance, literally clenching your purse in my hands, wondering if this is all I’m gonna have left of you. They got your heart back, and then you flatlined. Four minutes.”

I can feel his eyes burning into my face somehow.

“Pushing down on your chest, fighting to get you back. And they did. The only thought I had in that moment was having to attend another funeral.”

Well, good thing you don’t now.

“Got to the hospital. They dragged you out of the back and onto the pavement, rushing you in while I slowly followed behind. Heck, I was so close to just not walking in at all. But, if I remember correctly, I said that we have to be there for each other, and I can’t go back on my word. You did.”

I know that.

“The emergency trauma unit brings you to your own room. They unstrap you from the gurney, get you changed out of your clothes, get you your own bracelet. Meanwhile, here I am, sitting in the chair, you sitting in the bed, eyes closed, an IV jabbed into your arm, hooked up to monitors so that your body doesn’t get another chance to crap out.”

I didn’t even hear the sound of a monitor when I woke up.

“The paramedics bandaged you up in the bathroom. I’m looking at them. They’re almost blood-soaked red. It makes me wince. It makes me wanna wake you up myself and take that knife I pointed at your chest and move it to your throat.”

We’re really bringing that back? I thought we were past it.

Guess not.

“And I got to wondering: how do I make the best of this situation? There’s always a silver lining, right? Wrong.”

Damn.

“You could’ve fucking died, and I would’ve been the last one to see you. I thought that maybe I shouldn’t have left the apartment. I should’ve stayed. I feel responsible, even though there’s no logical reason for me to.”

I stare down at the carpet, distracting myself with the patterns.

“Finally, like the grace of God, and the grace of the universe, you woke up. I knew you would. You had to. Why? Because I was not letting you leave without hearing from me first.”

Of course you wouldn’t.

“By the way, the reason I didn’t let you stay is because for these past two months, you have never been good at doing things alone. I don’t wanna get a call in the middle of the night to find out you’ve flatlined again or worse. We’ve already been here on the other side of things, having to wait for news. This time, we were part of the actual event. Again, I still waited. You, however, were tired of waiting.”

Jimmy shifts on the couch, sitting up from what was his lackadaisical posture, and sits up straight, moving toward the edge of the cushion. He takes his hands and places them on my kneecaps. His palms have taken their turn to start burning. That gesture alone reluctantly makes me break the avoidance and I look straight at him, brown eyes lacking so much life. I grip my hands on the table.

His voice returns to normal, less agitation and still the same amount of seriousness, but it’s somewhat shifted elsewhere. “I’m going to look through those brochures, and the names that Dr. Sanderson has on that paper, and I’m gonna research and see which place has the best reviews, the best people to see, the best outcome they can give you. This is non-negotiable. No more excuses, no more outs. No more hospital visits. I’ve only been saying it for so long. You need help, and now you’re getting it.”

The only thing I can manage to do is blink. “Sorry.”

He looks at me apologetically. “But you’re not. If you were, you never would’ve done it. We both know that.”

I can’t even nod. I just look away.

“C’mon,” he says, removing his hands and standing up. My knees are hot. “You gotta drink something.” He motions over to the counter, holding my matcha.

I get up and walk over to him, taking it from his hand. I rip the paper covering off the straw and poke it through the middle of the cup, taking a small sip. I could say that matcha does cure all sadness, but right now, it doesn’t.

Jimmy takes the donuts out of the bag. One’s double chocolate, the other’s strawberry frosted. He folds the bag over on the counter. I guess we’re using it as our plate. The strawberry one is definitely for me. Taking a bite, I savor the feeling of the icing and sprinkles relishing in my mouth. Some of them are definitely gonna get stuck in there, but they’ll eventually find their way out.

He’s sipping his coffee while staring at the top brochure, then moving his gaze to the window. The wind is moving the leaves around in a swift manner. It’s calm. His mind is definitely not.

I feel the need to remind him. I still keep my quiet tone. “Happy Birthday.”

There is no reason for me to even say that after what just happened, but I can’t wait another year. What if everything’s different then? We might not speak, I might be moved back in. There’s too many possibilities. There’s one action I already regret, but this one, I don’t.

He just looks at me with the slightest of frowns. It’s a combination of dissatisfied and sad. He does the right thing by not responding.

So we sit in silence, eating what we could consider our lunch, given it’s already the afternoon, with the brochures becoming more appealing. At least he now gets to do his favorite thing.

Helping me.