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vanillasakura · 3 years

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IT’S FINALLY HERE <3

I first got into Red Dead around late July or so when I watched my friend and her dad speedrun the game, and one of the first things I came across for this fandom was Sapphic Week, so I’m very very happy to be able to contribute this year, especially as I’d be lying if I said the lovely ladies in this game weren’t the main reason I initially got into it and ended up buying it for myself.

Once again, a HUGE shoutout to @rdrsapphicships and Aldrig for hosting this event! I’m so excited to see what everyone creates <3 Without further ado, let’s get into it!

RDRSW21 Day 1: Music

Title: Close Your Eyes (As it Eats at Us)

Words: 1857

Pairing: Abigail Roberts/Molly O’Shea

Warnings/Notes: Slight John bashing I’m sorry but this takes place early chapter 2 so... slightly warranted

(Title from Close Your Eyes by The Midnight Club)

ao3 link

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Don't you know, when your eyes are closed, you see the world from the clouds along with everybody else?

Indeed, Molly was on her own much of the time. Dutch could only afford her so much attention, and when he was away from camp or otherwise occupied, there wasn’t anybody who really came up to her on their own will. Not exactly like she could blame them, Molly wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. Growing up, she’d always assumed otherwise, but after seeing how Karen and Tilly had told her to stop coming up to them and “being a bitch for no good reason”, she began to wonder if everyone back home was nice to her because they had to be. Even if Molly herself wasn’t a picture-perfect example of politeness, being anything but an angel to the O’Shea daughter could have been considered blasphemy.

It was lonely, terribly so, but Molly wasn’t quite sure what she could do to remedy the situation. She wrote poetry, she read books, she went on walks in circles around camp, she looked out over the valley (Horseshoe Overlook really hadn’t gotten its name from nowhere), but more than anything, Molly watched.

She watched how Reverend had gradually stopped bothering pretending to read the bible, instead choosing to start downing drinks earlier and earlier. She watched how Bill devoured Kieran with his eyes, all but confirming her suspicion that the man did indeed want to bed the new camp member. She watched how Karen would clench her jaw when Mary-Beth asked how things were going with Sean, but would then take his hand later and pull him out of camp, the pair slipping away to either do each other or to do nothing at all. She watched how Arthur hadn’t bothered to take down the photo of the woman who did nothing but cause him pain even after Hosea had told him to do so, instead still glancing at it longingly every now and again while he cleaned his guns in his tent. She watched Josiah practice speaking in all sorts of different accents on the outskirts of camp, correcting himself out loud whenever something wasn’t quite right. She watched how Jack would try and weave flower crowns for his mother, small hands shaking as he attempted to tie the stems of various blooms together, putting the ones he had broken too short or knocked a petal off of in a pile to his left. She watched how John admitted to Javier and Pearson that, if he could, he would kill Abigail and never think twice about it.

The comment shouldn’t have startled Molly as much as it did. She knew that John was a good man deep down, but the way that he uttered the confession without so much as a second thought as to if what he was saying was okay made her sick. Abigail was nothing if not kind, hard-working, and strong, nothing like the type of woman you would imagine deserved those kinds of threats. What made John that angry at her, Molly didn’t know, and she wasn’t quite sure that she cared to.

After that night, Molly didn’t just stop watching. She’d heard people say worse things, many times, but there was something about the raw earnesty in which John had spoken that made his words haunt Molly like nothing else had. She decided to start watching Abigail more, justifying it by telling herself that it was for the other woman’s safety, even though realistically, there wasn’t much protection that Molly could offer her.

And one of the first things that Molly noticed as she began watching Abigail was that the woman could sing.

Abigail had this habit, whenever she was sitting in her tent on her own while working on something that needed to be done, where she would hum a tune, letting her own voice pop in here and there with the words that she knew. It was an uncoordinated affair, but it was never intended to be anything but.

It was also adorable.

So adorable, in fact, that Molly decided that maybe she didn’t just need to watch anymore, maybe she could actually go and sit with Abigail. After all, much like her, Abigail was alone, more often than not. What harm could come of it?

“You need any help?” Abigail looked up from her work, pausing her humming as Molly stood by her, close, but not so much so as to suffocate the other woman.

“Didn’t know you offered that.” Abigail responded, expression unreadable.

“Hasn’t been something I’ve extended before.”

“With all due respect, Miss O’Shea, I don’t need anyone’s help if they only do so because they take pity on me, especially someone who ‘isn’t anyone’s servant girl’.” Abigail’s eyes turned cold, her brow furrowed, and Molly felt anxiety beginning to set in.

“That wasn’t my intention whatsoever, I just…” she trailed off, and Abigail cocked her head, “I just don’t want to be alone. Is it okay if I enjoy your company? Just for a short while.”

Abigail sighed, chewing on her lip. “I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t know that feelin’ all too well. Truth be told, you’re the first person who’s come up to me in weeks.”

“I have no idea why that is, though.” Molly picked a sock out of the basket by Abigail’s feet, grabbing a needle and some thread along with it. “You’re such a nice person, it truly is a shame that others don’t recognize it.”

“ ‘Nice person’? Miss O’Shea, you hardly know me.”

Molly felt the same dreadful wave of anxiety begin to rise inside of her again. “I may not have talked to you much in the past, but I’ve watched.”

“Watched? Me?”

“I watch everybody.” Molly admitted, stabbing the cotton with her needle. “Although I must confess, I do enjoy watching you. I know that isn’t exactly polite, though.”

“You’re right in that it ain’t, but I suppose I’m a hypocrite, so what does my opinion really matter?”

“You, a hypocrite? How so?”

“Gets lonely when nobody comes up to make conversation. Sometimes, you’ve gotta get your fix by watching others.” Abigail laughed. “You never really feel like a part of the group, but it can help alleviate the pain sometimes.”

“Have you ever seen how Karen and Sean sneak off all the time?” Molly asked. “Lord only can imagine what shenanigans they get up to.”

“If I know either of them, they’re probably finding some tree to fuck up against.” Abigail said, a smile appearing on her face. “Although, on second thought, maybe not, given what happened at his welcome party.”

“At the welcome party? I guess you must have seen something I didn’t. Mind sharing?” Molly asked, her interest thoroughly peaked.

Abigail snorted. “Well, you saw how the two of them were all over each other that night, right?”

“Would’ve had to be blind as a bat to not have.”

“Well,” Abigail continued, “at some point, I saw the two of them go into John’s tent, and given my proximity to them, it wasn’t hard to hear what was bein’ said and fill in the gaps.”

“So they slept together at the party? Can’t say that I’m quite surprised.” Molly tied up the thread as she reached the end of the tear, reaching for a handkerchief to work on next.

“They sure did, but that ain’t the good part.” Molly watched as Abigail’s eyes laughed, full of a mischief that she had never seen present before in her usually quiet companion. “Sean has got to be the quickest quick shot I’ve ever seen, and given my history, that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

“No.” Molly covered up her mouth, stifling a laugh.

“Yes! Poor Karen never even got hers, it had to have been the most pathetic thirty seconds in her entire life.” Abigail smiled, and Molly’s heart twitched. Why?

“Thirty seconds? Wow, if that’s so, then maybe they aren’t all over each other when they go out, and you’re right.”

Abigail laughed, smiling at Molly. “Well, who’s to say, I’m not sure there even is such a thing as a constant when those two are involved.”

“You may be right there.” Molly puffed one of her cheeks out, trying her best to figure out what to bring up next. She was having a lot of fun, she should do this more often, especially as Abigail also seemed to appreciate the time they were spending together. “Okay, now is it just me, or does Bill look at Kieran a little too often for it to be considered friendly?”

“Oh, it’s not just you, no worries. I’m just a little surprised that out of everyone, he decided to be sweet on Kieran.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean, he’s nothing like the kind of men Bill’s been sweet on in the past.”

Molly stopped in her tracks. “Wait, you’ve known about Bill before this?”

“Yeah, it ain’t that hard to figure it out if you know what to look for.” Unable to gauge Molly’s reaction, Abigail continued on. “I mean, I don’t have a problem with it, whatever makes you happy makes you happy, y’know? And if that means lovin’ somebody of the same sex, I sure as hell don’t see a problem with it.”

“We’re in agreement there.” Molly smiled, going back to her work, her heart beat now more palpable. “I mean, as nice as it can be to see everyone here fall in love-”

“Or lust.” Abigail interjected, a smirk on her face.

“Or lust, that’s true-- I still think that my favorite person to observe is you.”

“Hm? And why is that?” Abigail still had that smirk on her face, raising an eyebrow. “What about me is so interesting that you’d prefer to watch me than whatever the latest addition to the Sean and Karen saga is?”

“I, uh,” Molly flushed, suddenly aware of what she was saying and how weird it could be considered. “I just, I like watching you hum and sing whenever you work. Something about it is just, I dunno, very relaxing.”

Abigail clicked her tongue. “You really do notice a lot, huh?”

“Yeah.” Molly replied sheepishly.

“I guess it’s only fair that I tell you that I find watching you write poetry is quite calming.”

“You saw me doing that?”

“How could I not? Both of us do a lot of watching and thinking, we’re both very similar in that regard.” she said, unbothered by Molly’s embarrassment.

“I’m… glad, you can find comfort in something that I do.” Molly settled on.

“The more we talk, the more I’m beginning to think that I just find comfort in you. Somethin’ about you just makes you easy for me to talk to.” Abigail smiled.

“The same goes for you.” Molly sighed, nibbling on her lip. “We should do this more often. I’m having a good time.”

“So am I.” Abigail agreed. “It’s much better to be with you than to be alone.”

“It really is.” Molly shifted a bit, turning more towards Abigail. Maybe working wasn’t so bad after all.

#rdrsapphicweek2021 #abigail roberts #abigail roberts marston #abigail marston #molly o'shea #rdr2 community #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fandom #red dead fandom #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #my writing #fanfiction #wlw #sapphic

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southwindstories · 3 years

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Horseshoe Bay

Kelantis

DEAR STORMBUTT’S DIARY.

I, Windswept, have once again usurped your supple, tasty pages from your cruel oppressor, that they may be liberated from her tedious exposition and granted the brilliance of my divine pen. And by that, I mean I stole her book again. I might draw lewd pictures in it. I don’t know yet. I’m thinking about it though. Because I have fingers, and she doesn’t.

How does she write in you anyway?

Don’t answer that, book. I don’t need your lip.

So a couple years back we helped save your pony butts from a big angry monster and kinda banged up our capital-city-robot-dingus in the process. To which many thanks were given and much aid in repair was rendered, which was great, because Princess Aurora has been nothing but mutter-grumble-gripe-pony-gripe-legs-grumble-mutter ever since we broke down in Horseshoe Bay and I’m pretty sick of it. Do you know what its like living with a brooding immortal? THEY HAVE NO CONCEPT OF TIME. Most ponies mutter about something for an hour and get over it. SHE’S DONE IT FOR A YEAR. A WHOLE YEAR. I’M GUNNA DIE. I would kill her first, but I’m not certain its actually possible, and if I failed, I’d have to listen to THAT for a year. And she goes onnnn and onnnn about Celesssstia. Hate this, loathe that, self-righteous this, traitor that, gunna choke her this, shoulda left her to die that, oh my GAWD I wish they’d just shack up and screw so they could GET OVER IT. I swear its like listening to teenagers moan about their misplaced sexual repression. FOR A YEAR.

Which can be kinda hot when she’s descriptive. I mean she’s really visceral about the choking part.

*Note to self, buy Aurora a fake horse phallus with a sun stamped on it. Deliver and swim very very far away.

BUT ANYWAY! Despite any long standing animosity between our Princesses, the REST of us are actually getting along great with Equestria! Ever since Horseshoe Bay dropped its military title of Mustang Marina and traders and civilian populous started moving in, we’ve made all sorts of new friends. Whole construction guilds have helped rebuild Kelantis! I HAD A SPECIAL SOMEPONYforlikeacoupleweeksandthenwekindacalleditoffcausereasonsAnd at long last, we’re finally set to flood the tubes and get this tub back out to sea.

I’m going to miss being this close.

Ill still be back fairly often, I think. I’ve kinda got a job here, I’m a bit of an unofficial ambassador (cause the real one’s a tool. Which, I imagine, is part of the job description). But for the past few years, and even the months before that, I’ve looked out at night and seen Equestria. And I’ve kinda gotten used to that. I miss the open ocean, but living here has grown on me. I sort of felt like I’d earned it. For a while there, I was the onlllly Kelpie here. Not anymore, we’re all intermingled now, but for a bit anyway. Just me. And I was sorta okay with that. It was lonely, sure, but, you know. You make do.

Might be why Stormy and I get along. I think we both have a thing for being where other ponies aren’t.

Sea’s all aglow with folks getting ready to watch the launch. Its been a nervous couple days, honestly. There’s quite a crowd, and not all the faces are common ones. Luna and Celestia are both watching, and that has Aurora’s dial set to 11 right off the bat, and now we’ve got dragons and kirins and sphinxes. SPHINXES. Well, just one, but that’s 100% more than was expected. It all spells out races that last saw this machine when it was creeping across the landscape eons ago as Discord’s traveling throne, sewing chaos in its wake. For all I know, some of them saw it first-hand! I know the Princesses did.

So, you know. No pressure.

I have to go, my planet needs me. I’m going to draw a penis on a random page of this book now and hide it back in Stormy’s bag. Or not. I would, but I think she’d be able to like, instantly point out if I screwed up the details. Being a penis enthusiast and all. And I’d honestly kinda feel bad about messing it up, being a wannabe penis enthusiast and all.

Abstract penis?

Abstract penis.

-Windswept

#MLP:FiM #Launch #SWS #mlp

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psychospeak-blog · 6 years

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Won’t Go Slowly // 55

A/N: I’m so sorry this one took so long, guys! We’re almost there :)

Warnings: Might be emotional, apparently I also talk about baby constipation? Also, apparently I only write 10K + chapters now?

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen// Twenty // Twenty One // Twenty Two // Twenty Three // Twenty Four// Twenty Five // Twenty Six // Twenty Seven // Twenty Eight // Twenty Nine // Thirty // Thirty One // Thirty Two // Thirty Three // Thirty Four// Thirty Five // Thirty Six // Thirty Seven // Thirty Eight // Thirty Nine // Forty // Forty One // Forty Two // Forty Three // Forty Four // Forty Five // Forty Six // Forty Seven // Forty Eight // Forty Nine // Fifty // Fifty One // Fifty Two // Fifty Three // Fifty Four

It was awkward, really, was what it was, you thought, stretched out across the grass, your head propped up in your hand, while the other one was rubbing Marshall's belly. Danielle was on the other side of the activity mat she'd gotten for Bentley, which was perfect for a day like today so he could hang out outside with you without being in the sun. It also seemed to be helpful for protecting him from Gerry who was running around playing and seemed to forget where you had the baby, and then have to try and avoid running into him at the last second.

It was awkward because Tyler had other people over, some of whom you'd never met before. Which was fine, except, while everyone else had shown up with snacks and sunglasses, drinks and maybe a swimsuit, you'd shown up with baby gear, and a carseat, and a diaper bag. It just seemed strange, to bring along a baby, when everyone else just seemed to be kind of focused on unwinding, and having a good time, while you were just focused on making sure Bentley was content.

There was definitely a shift or a separation, that had happened. You were very much so just focused on creating a family for yourself, and everything else just kind of didn't really seem to matter to you, right now.

It didn't really quite fit for you anymore.

And Tyler, of course, seemed to think there was nothing strange about you bringing a baby along.

Things changed though, a lot more than you'd thought they'd would. Before Bentley was born, Tyler had seemed like he was right there, like you could kiss him or touch him however you wanted, like there was something there, and you both knew it. Like you spent all your time together, without even realizing it, it was the next night, and you were still together. It became usual, to have him in your bed, or for you to be in his bed and now, with the exception of that first night Bentley was home from the hospital, it was Cash who was just the regular extra in your bed.

But, it really was like there was kind of a line drawn in the sand.

Was it selfish, though, if you just kind of wanted to hang out with your good friends and your baby in Tyler's house for the rest of the summer, maybe just having dinner with your families, or doing puzzles with his sisters while Bentley was napping, or maybe just holding your baby while you watched a game of horseshoes or spikeball or something.

It was a different experience, being a mother, because you didn't really feel like you were living for yourself at all anymore. And you were sure you'd get back to that, once again but, for now, your body was just kind of all his.

"What are you doing?" you frowned, looking at Tyler who was now laying on his stomach on the ground with his phone extended in front of him, one hand moving Bentley's foot up next to Cash's paw.

"What are you doing?" he asked, panning his phone up towards you, and you could tell by the smile on his face that he was recording a video, which you were not prepared for at all. You gave him a look at tried to slowly move out of the frame, which made him just laughed harder, and then you took your foot, pushing against his arm harder until he lost his grip, his phone tumbling into the grass, and he rolled over onto his side laughing.

"If you broke my phone, you're buying me a new one," he said.

"I did not break your phone," you said. "It's not my fault that you don't have a case on it."

"Well, I wasn't expecting you to kick me," he said.

"I did not kick you," you said, "I nudged you. With my foot."

"Is that why you child is kicking a," Tyler tilted his head, looking at the toys hanging down, "fish in the head? Did you learn that from Mama?"

"He's playing," you laughed, "He loves his toy Auntie Danielle got for him."

"Yeah, he does," Tyler said, turning to look over at him. "Is your guy still coming? What's his name again, again?"

"Jeremy," Danielle said, looking at her phone, "Yeah, he's coming after work."

"What does he do?"

"He's an accountant," she said. And you prepared yourself, expecting Tyler to comment just about how boring that sounded, and how stuffy he must be, but he surprised you.

"Ooh," Tyler said, "that sounds smart."

You shifted a little, looking at your watch, and then you leaned forward, pulling Tyler's phone towards you and unlocking it, and then going to his Instagram to see for yourself what Cassidy had texted you. "People think I'm your cousin?" you asked.

"Huh?" he asked, blinking at you.

"People think I'm your cousin," you repeated.

You didn't quite know how to respond that that, honestly. You supposed it was better than the alternative, but there had to be that, too.

"Well, I certainly hope not," Tyler laughed awkwardly.

"Of course we're not, we had genetic testing before we had him."

"Oh yeah," he said. "What are you..where are you even getting this from?"

"Your Instagram," you said. "Your sister told me about it."

"Yeah, I saw that, I think, the other day. Either that, or you're my....baby mama or something" Tyler said, scratching his head, "What is my sister doing on Instagram?"

"It doesn't matter what your sister is doing on Instagram. Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Because it doesn't really matter," he said, "It's probably just from when we went out to Mother's Day and I put 'family mother's day' or something like that."

"You put 'family mother's day'?" you asked.

"Something like that, I don't remember exactly."

"Oh, Tyler," you said, running your hands through your hair.

"What?"

"I don't know, how much I want," you said, "Like I don't think I want you to show his face, right now."

"I didn't?"

"'K, well, don't."

"I won't," he said, but it came out as more of a question, his hand rubbing up and down Marshall's side now as he lifted his head to look back at you. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Are you sure?" He asked, "I don't have to post any pictures of him, if you don't want me to."

"No, what you've been doing is fine, I think."

"Do you want me to show you before I post stuff, and then you could, like approve it?"

"No, I don't need to approve every one of your social media posts, I'm not your mother."

"Okay," Tyler said, dragging out the word now, his fingers pulling at the grass. "Are you sure I didn't fuck up? Because you aren't really convincing me otherwise."

"Yes, I'm sure, Tyler."

"You know how I need you to tell me when I fuck up sometimes? This is one of those times," he said, looking at you sheepishly, and you laughed a little when he did. "Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."

You wanted to tell at him then that you couldn't just dictate his whole life for him, it wasn't just about what you wanted. You had to think what was best, with all of you now.

You wanted to scream at him, that he wouldn't understand, because he wasn't a parent.

But you couldn't.

He hadn't done anything wrong.

So you took a deep breath, and looked out into the water for a moment, "I didn't think about this part," you said, "I'm not quite sure what is best."

"What part?"

"The whole social media thing," you said, waving your hand in the air.

"Well, it's not a big deal," he laughed.

"Yes, it is a big deal, Tyler," you said. Because now you were thinking, what if he had an interview or something, at his house, and he had pictures of Bentley up, and then just everyone was talking. "This is gonna be out there, like forever, and you've got like, two hundred thousand Instagram followers, that's not normal."

He looked like he was about to make a correction about the number of followers that he had, but thought better of it. "No, I don't mean like that, I mean you don't need to freak out and stress about it right now, it doesn't matter this very second."

You opened your mouth and then shut it again.

"You over think everything, babe, just relax," he said, "I just won't do anything more until you tell me."

"Well, his feet and stuff is fine, I just don't know, Tyler."

"Well, you'll figure it out," he said, "But until you do, I'm just going to still take hundreds of pictures of him and send them to my mom, 'k?"

"Okay," you laughed.

"I got your back," he said, smiling at you, and then all of you looked down at Bentley, who was making noises, batting at the toys above him with his fists. "Yeah, bud, you punch that lobster. Are you killing it so you can eat it for dinner?"

"You're ridiculous," you laughed.

"It's your child whose the one that's violent."

"Umm.." Danielle interrupted, pointing behind Tyler, "Your child is currently trying to pull all the bark off that tree."

"Gerry!" Tyler yelled, "Stop that!"

Bentley's eyes went wide with surprise, and you laughed rubbing his hand.

"So sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, it was all the puppy's fault," Tyler said, leaning forward to kiss him on the belly, and Bentley grinned. "I'm so glad he knows how to smile, now, because before he would just, like, lie there, and you didn't know if he liked what you were doing."

"Yeah, well if he's not crying ----oooof!" you said, as Gerry knocked you over, and then proceeded to shove a slobbery tennis ball in your face, and you could hear Tyler giggling as you tried to fend the dog off. "Make sure he doesn't step on the baby, by accident," you struggled to get out, finally reaching for the ball and throwing it across the yard so Gerry could run after it, scooping it up in his mouth. "K, bring it back!" You said, and he came running back towards you, jumping over you and dropping the ball at Bentley's feet, Danielle putting her arm out so he wouldn't get too close to the baby.

"Did you bring him the ball? Good boy," Tyler said, then the next thing you knew, Bentley was crying as Gerry licked him right over his face, Danielle grabbing him, while both you and Tyler tried to pull Gerry off, who just backed up and barked.

"Awe, it's okay," you said, leaning over, your knuckles rubbing over Bentley's cheek, and you let Gerry sniff him now. "I had to suck a bunch of stuff out of his nose this morning and he didn't like it, so I think he's just freaking out when something gets in his face, thinking its gonna happen again. It's okay, Ger, it's not your fault."

"You had to what?" Tyler asked.

"He was congested," you said, and Tyler made a face. "It's not like he can blow his nose or anything."

"Oh, yeah," he said, and you looked over at Bentley who was cooing now, looking up at Danielle his arms stretching out so his hand clasped at her chest.

"Oh, he just grabs your boob," Tyler laughed.

"I'm sorry, I don't have anything in there for you," she said.

"Oh geez," you said, leaning forward and unwrapping his fingers from her shirt, pulling. "Yeah, let's not take off Auntie Danielle's shirt."

Meanwhile, Tyler was just killing himself laughing. "That's kind of aggressive, bud," Tyler said, "Big boob guy, huh?"

"He's a baby," you said.

"Well, he's never tried to feel me up like that, just saying."

"Oooh, he's here!" Danielle said, getting up and practically shoving the baby into your arms and running off to meet him.

"Ooh, he's here!" Tyler imitated, his hands waving in the air.

"Tyler, be nice," you said, "she really likes him."

"I am being nice, that was just like the girliest thing ever," he said, and you gave him a doubtful look. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's...you just have a tendency to be intense, that's all."

"I just want to make sure he's a good guy," Tyler said, and you couldn't really argue with that. "Sometimes you guys don't really make the best choices."

"Hey!"

"I never said I did either," Tyler said, "And I'm really protective over the women in my life, I can't help it, you know that."

"No, I know, I'm just..."

"Keeping me in check?" Tyler smiled, "yeah, I know."

Bentley started fussing in your arms, his arms shooting outwards as he cried, and you rocked him, looking down at Marshall who was blinking. "Did he hit him?"

"I think he poked him in the eye," Tyler laughed.

"Awe, I'm sorry, Marshall."

"Well, he's practically sitting on you," Tyler said, and you laughed because you were really just surrounded by dogs. "Are you so protective?" Tyler asked, laying down so his head was neck to Marshall's. "That's a good boy."

Bentley continued to fuss in your arms and you shifted, looking down at him. "What's wrong?"

"He wants some boobs," Tyler said.

"It's kind of a bit early for him to be hungry," you said, looking at his face for any signs, "He didn't eat much earlier though, his stomach has been bothering him."

"What's wrong with his stomach?" Tyler asked.

"Nothing, I'm just waiting for him to poop," you said, continuing to try and soothe the baby.

"Babies are kinda gross," Tyler said, kissing at his back, "How are you so cute and so gross?"

You smiled, shifting him closer to you and then looking back towards the house, and then behind you, towards the group of people by the deck. "Where should I feel him?"

Tyler raised an eyebrow at you, sitting up. "Here? In a chair? I don't know, wherever you want."

"Okay," you said, dragging out the word, and Tyler gave you another weird look, rolling on to his back so Gerry could crawl up on him, while you pulled the top of your dress and pulled the baby to you, trying to get him to latch, which was not working very well and you took a deep breath, trying to relax.

"Is he alright?" Tyler asked, after a moment.

"Yeah, he's just having trouble lately," you said, and then you jumped with surprise when there was a blast of loud music.

"Hey!" Tyler yelled, and then made a motion to turn it down.

"I can just go inside, Tyler, it's okay," you said.

"No, you stay," he said, rubbing your foot, "they don't need to listen to music that loud."

"Shouldn't you like...go hang out with your friends?"

"Yeah, I am."

"I meant them," you said, gesturing your head towards the other side.

"Oh," Tyler said, "I mean, they're not really my friends."

"Why are they here then?"

"They're, like, friends of friends, just hanging out," Tyler shrugged, and then he made a noise when Gerry jumped off a him, tail wagging as he ran towards Danielle and Jeremy. "Who's that?" Tyler asked, pushing himself up and following Gerry, and then you watched over your shoulder as Tyler shook Jeremy's hand and told him it was nice to meet him, and you waved a little with your free hand.

"Hey, Y/N, how are you?"

"Good," you said, "How are work?"

"Uh, not too bad," he said, crouching down in front of Cash now, who had his tail wagging. "Hey, who's this guy?"

"That's Cash," Tyler said. "and Marshall and Gerry."

You continued to feed Bentley, watching as Tyler just kept walking around looking up at the trees. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to figure out where to put a hammock."

"You bought a hammock?" you asked, and Tyler nodded.

"Hey, Jeremy, do you know anything about hammocks?"

Danielle sat down next to you, and then you both had to watch, trying not to laugh, as the boys tried to set up the hammock.

"Tyler, you're gonna have to put tighter," you said.

"Yeah, I got it, thanks!" he said, waving you off.

You were really laughing though, when he tried to sit in it, and you watched him fall backwards when it wasn't as high as he thought it was, his knees folding into his chest. "You might have been right."

"Yeah, I might have," you grinned.

"Just a little bit," he grinned back.

He went back to fixing it, and you went back to finishing feeding Bentley, propping him up on your legs once you were done, and then you laughed because all three dogs were sniffing him.

And then you could hear Tyler, clearing his throat very loudly, and you looked over to see him and Jeremy both sitting in the hammock now, which was an appropriate level.

"Say 'yay, you did it'," you said, clapping Bentley's hands together, and he smiled.

"He's so happy," Danielle said.

"Except when he's mad," you said, leaning down to kiss him, "then he gets really, really mad."

"He just smiles like he knows," she said.

"Hey," Tyler said, leaning over you now, "Can I have him for a sec?"

"Why are you making that face? What are you going to do to him?"

"I just want to see if he likes the hammock."

"'K, well he just ate, so don't do anything crazy with him," you said, lifting him up to Tyler's arms.

"I would not," Tyler said, pulling him close, "Your mama's crazy."

You rolled over onto your side, watching as Tyler sat down very carefully with Bentley. "Does he like it?" you asked after a minute.

"He looks a little confused," Tyler laughed, still watching him, and then you saw Mike and Josie walk into the backward, both of them stopping a little when they saw Tyler with a baby.

Oh god, this was awkward.

"Whose baby did you steal?" Mike asked, and Tyler pointed to you.

Oh my god.

"I told you she was pregnant," Tyler said, "And that she had him - I sent you a picture of him!"

"I thought you were joking," Mike said.

"No, why would I joke about that?" Tyler asked, making a weird face and, when Bentley started crying he stood up, walking with him, and then you got up, going to take him from Tyler, Gerry crying at your feet now, looking up at the baby, and you bounced him a couple of times, his cries soothing. "Oh, you just wanted Mama?" Tyler asked.

"Sorry," Mike said, coming over to hug you on the side where you weren't holding the baby, "Hi, Y/N. Congratulations."

"He's so cute," Josie said. "What's his name?"

"Bentley," you said, looking up at Tyler and he nodded a little. "Bentley Tyler."

And then you watched them look at the baby, and then back at Tyler, like they were just now seeing the resemblance.

"It's..."

"He was very much planned, and very much wanted," Tyler said, "And she gets to be his mom, and I get to be his Uncle Ty-Ty."

"Oh," Mike said, and then shook his head. "Sorry, I'm really happy for you. It just...took me by surprise."

"Yeah, no, I get it," you said, "it's different."

"That's really awesome, though," he said.

"Yeah," you said, "Yeah, he is. Did you guys want to hold him?"

"Yes," Josie said, almost immediately, taking him from you. "Hey, you're so cute."

"Okay, don't get any ideas."

You smiled down and then, and then Bentley sneezed hard. "Ah, bless you," you said, going to grab something to wipe his face. But before you could, Tyler was pulling up the bottom of his shirt, wiping at his face. "Is that better? Is your nose less stuffy now?"

"I have a cloth, Tyler," you said, and he just shrugged, seemingly not noticing that everyone was disgusted by what he was doing.

Bentley started fussing again, and you took him back. "Are you getting tired?" you asked, bending down to grab his pacifier. He, luckily, did not take very long to fall back asleep, and you sat down with him in a chair that was in the shade.

It was kind of your favourite thing ever, just getting to hold him when he napped.

You just could not get over him.

So you were just barely listening when Jeremy mentioned some new restaurant or something, and suggested that you double date sometime, and you felt Tyler shift, where he was sitting on the ground, leaning against your shins, petting the dogs, and you watched Danielle's eyes widen and try to communicate with him through looks, but he did not notice at all.

"Oh, we're not together," you felt Tyler say.

"Oh right," he said, looking apologetically at you now, "Right, I knew that."

"Yeah, we're just friends," you said, putting on what felt like the fakest smile ever, and now Tyler looked back over his shoulder, his forehead creased with a frown.

"Well, we're not just friends," he said.

And you didn't really know how to respond, because nothing would ever be the same again. You would never be "just friends" again, but you couldn't see yourself just not having him in your life either.

But you didn't want to feel like you were on this verge of fighting with him, every time you saw him, over things you couldn't say.

"Well, I'm not seeing anyone right now," you said.

"Well, I'm sure I could find a friend if you want to come."

“Not an accountant,” Tyler said, and you could sense his whole body tensing. “Not that there’s anything wrong with accountants, she’s just not an accountant kind of girl.”

You frowned at Tyler, because it wasn’t like you could tell everything about anyone from their occupation, but you shook it off.

"Yeah, I'm not really into dating right now. At this stage of my life," you said, looking down at Bentley, sleeping in your arms.

"Yeah, Bentley's her main man," Tyler said.

"Well, you could bring him..."

"I don't really like going out anymore," you said although it came out as more of a question, like you were unsure how people might take it. "I'm more of a homebody."

"But you brought him out with us the other night?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah, but that was like a family thing," you said, petting Cash who was sticking his head through the side of the chair, his tail wagging. "I like doing family things."

Tyler turned around now, too, scratching Cash behind the ears and kissing him on the top of the head. "Are you so happy that your baby came to visit you?" he asked, before looking up at you. "I'm gonna go get a drink, you want anything?"

"Umm, just some water," you said, and Jeremy decided to go into the house with him, Danielle looking at you, until they were out of earshot.

"I think he's gonna kill my boyfriend," she said.

"What?" you laughed.

"You should have seen the look on his face when Jeremy suggested setting you up with one of his friends," she said.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah," she said, "It was intense, he looked so pissed off."

"Why are you so happy about it then?"

"Because he's so in love with you he can't even hide it," she said.

"But he's not..." you said. Because you couldn't even finish the sentence. You couldn't even tell her how much it had hurt you, when he said he couldn't be Bentley's dad, and it felt like that was the dagger right there, like he'd made his decision.

"Hey," Tyler said, leaning around you to place your water on the armrest of the chair. "I'm gonna take Jeremy out on the boat, like really quick. Can he come with us?"

"Can Bentley come with you?" you repeated.

"Yes," Tyler nodded.

"Umm...no," you said. "Not today."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't have a life jacket for him," you said, "I can get one, though, and then he can go with you."

"No, I do."

"What?" you asked. "No, you need a special life jacket, for infants, he can't just wear an adult one."

"Yeah, that's what I have," Tyler said.

"You have an infant life jacket?"

"Yeah, it's for 9 to...like 20 or 25 pounds," Tyler said, "He's more than 9 pounds now, right?"

"Yeah..." you said tentatively.

"I'll get it, and you can look at it," he said. And, sure enough, he did in fact, have an infant life vest.

"When did you get this?" you asked.

"Umm...last summer, I went to go buy a new cover for the boat to winterize it, and I just saw that and thought it would be a good idea to have around the house. Is it the right one?"

"Yes, it's the right one," you smiled, standing up with Bentley now.

"He's allowed to come?"

"Yeah," you said, "I just didn't want him to go with out a life jacket."

"Well, I wouldn't have asked otherwise," Tyler said, and then he started giggling, watching as you put Bentley into the life jacket. "Can he even move in that thing?"

"I don't think so," you said, laughing because Bentley was just staring up at you with wide eyes.

"He's like 'what are you guys doing to me?'" Tyler laughed.

"Well, he's not crying," you said.

"Well, he's not smiling, either," Tyler said.

"Should we get you a hat?" you asked, picking him back up and going over to where you'd put his diaper bag, finding a sun hat, and trying to put it on him, and then grabbing his pacifier and handing it to Tyler.

"Look how cute they are," Tyler said, and you followed his gaze to see Danielle and Jeremy curled up in the hammock, kissing, and then Tyler just whistled at them.

"Stop, you're gonna embarrass them," your said.

"He won't care, not if he really loves her," Tyler said, taking Bentley from you, "You don't want to come?"

"No," you said, "I don't know if I can handle the motion anymore."

"You don't know if you can handle the motion anymore," Tyler scoffed.

"Yeah," you said, "And I don't really think the dogs are gonna like you taking him."

"Okay," Tyler said, "Dani, you want to come?"

"'No, that's okay."

"K, say goodbye to your girls," Tyler said, tilting Bentley towards you. "Bye, Mama. I will tell you all about it when I get back."

His hat fell off, though, and Gerry jumped and snatched it out of the air before it even hit the ground.

"Gerry!" Tyler yelled, even as Gerry ran off behind the tree with the hat in his mouth. "Come here!"

"C'mhere," you said, crouching down and patting your legs, grabbing one of his ball's from the ground. "Here, I'll trade you. Good boy."

"No, that's a bad dog," Tyler said, as you put Bentley's hat back on, Gerry's tail still wagging.

"He's just learning," you said.

"He knows better," Tyler said, looking down at Bentley now, moving his chin to hold his hat on. "I don't know if this thing is gonna stay on him."

"Well, just try your best, I can't put sunscreen on him or anything."

"It's not that hot out."

"Yeah, but his skin is sensitive," you said.

"'K well, he's gonna be on me the whole time," Tyler said, "Yeah, I'll protect you from the sun."

"Let me take a picture," you said, and Tyler just grinned, putting his face next to Bentley's.

"He's got his fisherman hat on, he's all ready to go," Tyler said. "Are you gonna drive the boat, bud?"

You'd be lying if you said you weren't just a little bit nervous about him being on the boat, but you knew you'd triple checked the straps on the life jacket, and Tyler had Bentley propped up on his lap, one arm strong around him, just pulling the boat out as slowly as possible, leaning around to check Bentley's reaction.

"Oh my heart," you said, opening your phone to take a video of them, hearing a collection of paws following you out onto the dock. You felt Danielle with you as well, as Tyler handed Bentley over to Jeremy for just a moment to take his shirt off, and Jeremy leaned around, making a series of faces, and then handed him back to Tyler, leaning in to interact with the baby.

Just as you suspected, though, as they drove away, Marshall started running to the edge of the dock barking, while Gerry followed him, and Cash was looking like he was contemplating jumping in.

"Okay, you don't need to swim after them it's too cold," you said, "C'mon, guys let's go wait over here on the grass. Marshall? Marshall! They're okay, c'mon."

Finally you managed to get him over next to you, where he very promptly flopped onto his back to have his belly rubbed. Danielle laughed, setting down next to you, occupying the dogs.

"Is it just me, or are guys with babies super hot?" she asked. "How do you not just....jump him all the time?"

"Well, I don't just...normally jump him," you laughed awkwardly.

"Ah, so he does the jumping, I see."

"Well..I mean, kind of, yeah," you said. "I don't know, it was easier when were trying to get pregnant, because they pretty much every time we saw each other, it was like, maybe we should have sex."

"Yeah, it is easy to have sex with someone who you're not in a relationship with or have any kind of agreement with if you're trying to make a baby."

You just gave her a look, leaning back onto the grass.

"Have you guys....since he was born?"

You shook your head. "I don't even know if I can yet," you said, "I have an appointment in a few days."

"Oh," she said, "Are you going to after that then?"

"No," you said, "No I don't think so."

Because things had changed, there was a Before Bentley and an After Bentley. And maybe there was a little bit of overlap, but it seemed like you didn't touch quite the same way. You didn't just end up kissing, or see each other naked, or just curl up in bed together.

And maybe you were imagining it, but he didn't call you 'babe' as much anymore.

But that didn't make sense either, because it wasn't like that was a new thing, when you started on this whole....journey together.

So you just played with the dogs, until Marshall just ran to the end of the dock barking again, and then you saw them come back around the corner, just as they'd left.

"Did he like it?" you asked, once they were parked.

"He loved it," Tyler said, "I think. He wasn't really smiling, but he was looking all around and stuff, I took a video on my phone so you can see."

He handed you the baby's hat, stepping off the boat and then all the dogs were just swarming him to try and sniff the baby's feet.

"Here, let's take this thing off of you and put it away for next time," Tyler said, laying Bentley down and he cooed as Tyler unbuckled him, tickling his belly. "Are you tell Mama how fun it was? Convincing her to come with us next time?"

You laughed, "The dogs were not very happy about it."

"Yeah, I heard. How come they don't care when I go out on the boat, but the second the baby does, they freak out?"

"I don't know, maybe they know he doesn't know how to swim," you said.

"Yeah," Tyler said, lifting Bentley back up, holding him in front of you. "I need to tell you something exciting, Mommy."

"What's that?"

"I got really, really excited when I was on Uncle Ty-Ty's boat, and I accidentally pooped my pants."

"Oh," you said, taking him from Tyler, and then you looked back over your shoulder. "Where should I change him?"

"Wherever you want? I don't know, usually you change him on the floor, when I changed him I just put his mat thing down on the bed because I have old man knees," Tyler said, peering at you. "You're being so weird today."

"I'm not being weird."

"Kinda weird," Tyler said, running his hand through his hair, as you picked up the diaper bag and started back towards the house.

"Okay, I guess you're all coming with me," you said, holding the door open for the dogs to get through.

It was weird, and awkward, though, as everyone else left and it was just the couples. Or, really, the couples of Danielle and Jeremy and Mike and Josie, and then it was just you, and Tyler, and Bentley.

And it was also very awkward, when you ordered pizza and were watching T.V., Bentley sleeping on the couch surrounded by a wall of pillows, and Tyler just picked up your pizza and ate most of the cheese right off it, and then he'd had to explain that you couldn't eat much dairy because it made your baby's stomach hurt.

But it was fine.

You were fine.

You were just considering packing up Bentley and heading out, when you came out of the bathroom to discover that everyone else had gone back outside, and Tyler was now holding Bentley, who appeared to be dressed in one of Tyler's zip-ups, his whole body swimming in the fabric, and the arms tied around his body, like some sort of makeshift swaddling blanket.

"Did you put him in your sweatshirt?" you laughed.

"Yeah, he was getting cold, and we're gonna go outside and have a fire," Tyler said.

"He has his own sweatshirts and blankets, you know."

"He likes this," Tyler said, hugging him close, and Bentley started crying, and then Tyler started bouncing with him. "Okay, maybe he doesn't like this."

"Awe," you said, taking Bentley from Tyler and bouncing him yourself, his cries getting quieter pretty much immediately.

"I was doing that exact same thing," Tyler said. "How come you only want Mama?"

"Sometimes he cries when I have him, and then he's fine when you take him," you said, "He just wants what he wants when he wants it."

"Is that true?" Tyler asked, leaning over to kiss him. "Do you want to have a bonfire? Are you so excited for your first bonfire?"

And you realized, then, that somehow Tyler had managed to be there for all of Bentley's firsts, even though he wasn't physically there for most of the first month of Bentley's life.

Nothing made sense anymore.

You just could not handle the mixed signals anymore, the feeling like he was pulling away to do things on his own, and then he'd call you, like he did when he was away, to tell you he missed you.

He'd only let you take Cash, while he was gone, too, which was just ridiculous because the dogs didn't like to be apart from each other too much, especially Marshall and Cash, so you'd had to meet Tyler's mom so they could actually see each other again.

And you had to refrain from asking her why her son was being such an idiot.

But then he'd just hug you, and everything felt right.

Only for him to pull away again, and get lost in his own world, not really seeming to understand why you didn't want to come over, when he was having a party, when you had an infant, because he seemed to just think you could put the baby to sleep in his bed, and just tell everyone to keep it down.

It did not work.

And, yet.

And yet when Bentley was screaming his head off in your arms, and you felt like you wanted to scream, it was his name that your shaky finger found in your phone. Every single time.

"Hey," Tyler answered.

You took a deep, shuttering breath, and preparing yourself to speak, but he beat you to it.

"What's wrong?" he asked. And his concerned tone, letting you know he was focused on nothing else other than making sure you were okay, made you lose it. "I'm coming over, okay?' he said, and you felt like you could hear the jingles of his keys, already.

"Okay," you whispered.

"Just hang tight," he said. But as you hung up, you gripped your phone, hard in your hand, and then tossed it on the couch, hot tears running down your face. Because you felt like you needed him, like he was all you wanted, but as soon as you'd reached out, you felt like a failure.

This was supposed to be your thing.

"I am so sorry," you said, clutching your son to your chest, rubbing your hand up and down his back, because it was all you could do. You jumped when you heard the car door slam, and then again, when the front door of your house was open and shut in one motion. He looked at you, and you knew he just saw it all, his face softening.

And you lost it again.

You looked at each other, for a moment, as if Bentley's cries went quiet, and then life seemed to take over again.

"Okay," Tyler said, taking Bentley from you, "Let's go lay down in your crib for a minute."

"He has a fever, Tyler," you said, following Tyler to the nursery, where he laid Bentley down in his crib.

"Yeah, it's okay," Tyler said, taking your shoulder, and pulling you away from the crib. "If he's crying, then he's breathing, he'll be okay for one minute."

"I...." you said.

"Shhh..." Tyler said, in a way that could be condescending, but wasn't, and you took a deep breath, Bentley's cries quieter now that the door of his room was closed. He sat down on the couch, leaning forward so his arms were braced on his forearms. "He has a fever?"

"Yeah," you choked out, running your hand through your hair, frowning when it got caught on a tangle.

"What was it?"

"100.6," you said.

"Well, that's not much of a fever," Tyler said.

"It is for a baby his age, and I can't give him any medication because he's too young," you said. "I think he has an ear infection, because he keeps pulling at his ear, and he had that cold, and I took him to the doctor and they said his ears were okay. But now he has a fever."

"Well, when did you take him to the doctor?"

You weren't sure, quite what days were anymore, because it felt like you'd been hold up with a sick baby for the past week, not knowing what was day or night. "It was that day, that you went to that concert, because you snapchatted me to ask me what shoes you should wear," you said.

"So, two days ago," Tyler said.

"Yeah," you said, "and he's barely eaten anything all day, and he won't sleep, and now he has a fever, and he's not supposed to have a fever."

"Okay, so what do we do?"

"Well, if a baby under three months has a fever higher than 100.6, then they're supposed to go to the doctor right away, or go to the E.R."

"Well, is the doctor's office open now?"

"No," you said, "I called, like, half an hour ago, and I hoped they were gonna call me back but they didn't."

"Well, then we'll take him to the hospital," Tyler said, standing up.

"But I don't want to take him to the hospital."

"I know, I don't want to either, babe, but this is what he needs," Tyler said. "Is he okay in what he's wearing, or does he need to get changed?"

"I think he's fine, I don't want to put too much on him," you said, "I don't know what to take though."

"Well, just him, and his diaper bag," Tyler said, scratching his head, both of you walking towards Bentley's room now, "I don't know, does he have a health card of some kind?"

"No," you said, going into the room and pulling Bentley from his crib, resting your cheek against his forehead. "I meant if we have to stay overnight."

You felt like you needed to go as fast as possible, but also it also felt like you needed to slow things down.

"Well, let's not get too ahead of ourselves."

"Tyler...."

"If you have to stay, I'll come home and get what you need," Tyler said, "but let's just focus on getting him there."

"Okay," you said.

"I'm so sorry you don't feel good, bud," Tyler said, rubbing his hand and then placing a kiss on your temple. "We're gonna figure out what's going on with you, 'k? You ready, Mama?"

"Yeah," you breathed, grabbing a couple more diapers to stick in the bag, walking to the front door to put Bentley in his car seat and put your shoes on.

To make matters worse, it was raining.

"I'll drive, then you can sit with him," Tyler said.

"Okay," you said, weakly, getting into the backseat with Bentley, tucking a light blanket around him.

"Awe, poor little guy," Tyler said, once he started to drive, and Bentley continued to cry, sticking his hand in the backseat, and you weren't sure if it was for you to hold or if he was trying to reach the baby. "We're gonna take you to the doctor, and they're gonna make you feel all better."

"Did you get the bag?" You asked, sitting up now.

"Yes, babe , I got the bag," Tyler laughed lightly.

It was all you could do, as you drove, though, to just watch Bentley, offering him his pacifier, and rubbing his hands, or running your hand over his head.

You tried a pediatric urgent care clinic first, only to be told that they weren't accepting any more patients tonight, and directing you to a pediatric E.R. You'd never seen Tyler look so angry, continuing to glare at the man who'd told you 'no' even as you turned to walk back to the car in the rain.

So, when you got to the E.R., the first thing you did was take Bentley out of his carseat, tucking a blanket around him, which Tyler then held up above his head so he wouldn't get rained on as you went inside.

You anxiety was lessened a bit when the nurse took his stats, and you learned that his oxygen levels, heard rate, and blood pressure were all normal, and his temperature had come down 0.2 degrees from when you'd taken it at home, but he was just still so sad.

The nurse said that you'd be seen next, since he was so little. But next turned out to mean over an hour of you trying to rock Bentley in the chair, as far away from anyone else waiting as possible because you didn't want him to get more sick, Tyler holding your hand or just resting his hand on your shoulder, his thumb moving back and forth, and Tyler giving dirty looks to anyone who seemed annoyed by the crying baby, his body moving around yours.

It turned out, it was like you though, a full-blown ear infection in one ear, and a mild one in the other, so, another hour later, you were driving to the pharmacy, a prescription for antibiotics clutched in your hand. Thankfully, though, Bentley had fallen asleep about five minutes after you'd gotten back in the car, even though he was still making little noises in his sleep.

"Do you want me to take you guys home, and then I can come back to pick up his prescription?" Tyler asked.

"Ummm..." you said, looking at your finally sleeping baby, albeit not peacefully, "I think I might have to do it, I'm not sure, I've never gotten a prescription filled for him before."

"Oh, right," Tyler said, the sound of the blinking turn signal sounding loud in the quiet now.

"He's on my insurance," you said, realizing that you were curving the corner of the prescription, and now attempted to smooth out any wrinkles.

"Yeah," Tyler said, pulling into the parking lot, and finding a parking spot. "You want me to stay in the car with him so you can run in?"

"Yes, please," you said, taking off your seatbelt. But you sat, unmoving, staring at the raindrops rolling down the window until there were teardrops rolling down your cheeks.

"What are you-?" Tyler said under his breath, and then he turned around fully, and you slowly met his eye. "Why are you crying?"

"It's just...he's sick," you said, "he's sick enough that he needs medicine."

"Yeah, well, that's okay, kids get sick a lot, you must've known he was gonna get sick."

"Yeah, but I didn't think it'd be so soon," you said, sucking in a breath, "and i didn't think it'd be my fault."

"What?" Tyler whispered, "it's not your fault. The doctor said lots of babies get ear infections, because of how their ear tubes are."

"Yeah, because they can't drain properly after they have a cold. And he caught a cold, because I've taken him out, shopping and I've taken him to mommy and me yoga, and he was around so many babies. And moms. He could have gotten sick from anyone there. Or from anywhere."

You could see Tyler chewing on his lip. "Well, did your doctor say you weren't supposed to take him out?"

"No, but-"

"Then you didn't do anything wrong, " Tyler said. "You can't just keep him cooped up either, that can't be good for him. He likes being out, and looking at new things."

"No, I know," you sighed, "I just didn't think I'd have to take him to the E.R. at 2 months old."

"Yeah, but, you know what, I bet there's a bunch of 3 month old babies who haven't even been to the E.R. yet, he's an overachiever baby" Tyler said. "We should have have taken a picture: Baby's first E.R. visit."

You laughed, just a little, running your hand over your face. "I'm not really sure I want to remember this day," you said. "Can you watch him,while I go get this?"

"Yes," Tyler laughed, although you weren't sure why.

When you came back, the light from his phone was illuminating his face, and you opened the passenger side, sliding in next to him, immediately leaning back into the backseat.

"He's still sleeping," Tyler said, setting his phone down, "I just checked on him."

"That's good," you said, smiling a little, running your hands up and down your sides. "It's gonna be half an hour."

"Well, why don't we take him home?" Tyler asked, "he's probably tired."

"Yeah," you said, reaching for your seatbelt and then leaning back.

"Can I pick up his medicine?"

"Umm...yeah, you could," you said, stifling a yawn. "They asked me when I set up his account, if it was alright if other people picked things up for him and I said that was fine."

"Okay, well, you want to go home, and I'll come back and get it?"

"Yeah," you said, "that'd be really helpful."

Tyler smiled, his hand settling on your knee, rubbing it every now and again, as you leaned agains the car door, holding your head up.

Bentley was still sleeping when you got home, so you very carefully carried his car seat into the bedroom,setting the carseat down, and then closing the door gently, padding back into the hall where Tyler was waiting.

"Thank you so much," you said, walking right into his arms. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here."

You felt his lips against the top of your head, his hand rubbing up and down your back. "You would have called your mom, or your sister, or Danielle, or my mom, or my sisters, or, maybe like your aunt or something, " Tyler said, "Or you would have just taken him yourself."

"I don't think I could have done that."

"Yeah, you could have," Tyler insisted. "You knew exactly what was wrong with him, and exactly what he needed. You would have made sure he had what he needed. But you're allowed to ask for help, too."

"I did."

"No, you don't," Tyler said, pulling against you. "If I'm here or if I offer, then sure. But you don't call me and say 'hey, my baby's been up all night, can you come hold him for a bit?' or 'hey, I could really use a hand with getting some groceries'. And people want to help you. But you have to let us."

You stepped back from him, taking a breath, and running your hand over your face again.

"You alright?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah," you said. "It's just been a really, really long week. I'm just, like, really emotional."

Tyler tilted his head at you, smiling softly, and then he pulled you back in to him. "You're such a good mom, though," he said, his hand going to your shoulders so he could look you in the eyes, his thumb coming up to wipe under your eye. "He doesn't even know what love is, but he knows he loves you."

You smiled softly, letting him hug you again. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he said. And you kind of just wanted to stay there forever, in his arms, except you could hear Bentley start to fuss, like a sixth sense, and you padded into your bedroom to pull him out of his carseat before he got really upset, holding him to you, your hand instinctively feeling his forehead. "Shhh..." you soothed, bouncing him as you walked over to the glider, and then you kept your hand steady on his back as you started to rock. "He just wants to be held," you said, kissing the top of his head.

"Well, he should get as many cuddles as he wants," Tyler said, running his hand over Bentley's head, and placing a kiss there, and then doing the same with you. "I'm gonna go get his medicine. Do you need anything from the store?"

"No, I don't think," you said, and Tyler gave you a stern look, and then you tried to think back over your day in your head, knowing there was something you needed. "Oh, I need almond milk. For my coffee."

"Okay. Anything else? Diapers?"

"No, I have lots," you said. "Actually, can you get me the chocolate almond milk, please?"

"Yes," Tyler laughed, standing there still, shifting his weight back and forth, flipping the keys in his hand. "So, I'm just gonna go to the drug store, and then I'm gonna go to my house and pick up the dogs, and then I'll be back."

"Okay," you said, kissing Bentley again, "Wait, why are you getting the dogs?"

"Because I can't leave them home alone overnight," Tyler laughed.

"You're staying?"

"Mhmm..." Tyler said, like it was already decided.

"I feel better now, Tyler, you don't have to stay."

"Remember this talk we just had about you needing to accept help?" he asked, smiling softly.

"Yes," you said, smiling now too, "But if he's up in the night, then he's gonna want to eat, and you can't really...do anything there, to take care of him." There was no sense in both of you being tired, and maybe Tyler could just come back tomorrow.

"But I can take care of you," he said simply, looking at you for just a moment. "How about bottles?"

"Bottles?" you asked.

"For him," Tyler said, pointing at the baby, "I could give him a bottle, if you showed me how."

"Oh," you said, "Yeah, I haven't given him a bottle yet, and I don't really want to introduce that right now."

"Why not?"

"Well, I don't even know if he'll take it, and I also don't want him to get nipple confusion."

"What is nipple confusion?" Tyler laughed.

"When you give them other things, like pacifiers and bottles, and they get confused and forget how to breastfeed," you said.

"Oh," Tyler laughed again, "That sounded more exciting than it is."

"And he's been having a hard time eating lately, and I don't know if it's because he has a pacifier or what, but I just don't want him to stop breastfeeding."

"Okay, so I'll go get this, and the dogs, and I'll be back," Tyler said, smiling, "I have a key to your place, and three huge dogs, you couldn't keep us out if you wanted to."

"Okay," you laughed,

"You guys need anything before I go?"

"Can you turn on the nature sounds on his basinette?" you asked, and then pointed at the nightstand, which was just a complete mess, you noticed, filled with half-dranken drinks and empty snack wrappers, "And turn the diffuser on? I have stuff in there that's supposed to help with congestion for him. Thank you."

"I'll be right back," he promised, and you continued to rock Bentley while he was gone. It didn't seem like very long before you heard your front door open, and the sound of paws throughout the house, and it sounded like Tyler was going into the kitchen to put the milk away. "We have to be really, really quiet, guys," you heard Tyler say in a soft voice, "He might be sleeping and he's not feeling very good, so I need you guys to be good."

You smiled, and it wasn't very long before your bedroom door flung open, all three dogs coming in panting. "K, on the bed," Tyler said, trailing in after them and patting the mattress. They tried to sniff a bit, but did jump up, probably sensing the energy in the room, and Tyler smiled, kissing them all. "Good boys."

Tyler came around, leaning over to where Bentley was laying against your chest. "Is he sleeping?" you asked.

"No, his eyes are open, but he looks really, really sleepy," Tyler said, holding up the bag. "Do you want to give this to him now?"

"I don't know, how often is he supposed to have it?"

"Every 12 hours," Tyler said, "I also got some baby probiotics for him, because the pharmacist said it'd help his tummy when he's on antibiotics."

"Well, when does he get those?" you asked.

"Umm..." Tyler said, opening the bag and looking at the box. "It says 2 to 3 hours before or after antibiotics, put it on his pacifier, or with formula or breast milk."

You rolled your eyes at Tyler laughing as he said 'breast'.

"Okay, so let's give him the antibiotics now, and then just put the probiotics here, and I'll give them to him when he eats next."

"Okay," Tyler said, taking out the oral syringe and then medication. "Do you want me to do this?"

"Did you wash your hands?" you asked.

"Yeah, I did when I got back from the store."

"Okay," you said, "Do you know how to do the dosage and stuff?"

"Yeah, it's like when I did your shots," Tyler said, "Except no needles."

Still, he let you double check the dosage, before he crouched down, putting it in Bentley's mouth. "Squirt it towards the side of his mouth so it's harder for him to spit back out," you said.

"Okay," Tyler said, his eyes focused as he did so, and Bentley just kind of coughed a little and made a face, but managed to get most of it down before he started crying again, and you watched all three dogs lift their heads up, staring at you, Gerry starting to whine, but he didn't make a move to jump off the bed.

"Oh," you said, rubbing his back. "It's okay, that's gonna help you feel better."

"He's like 'what is this? This is not my milk,'" Tyler said.

You laughed, "I tried to give him milk, but he took like two sips and then he didn't want anymore."

"Well, maybe he's not hungry."

"I know," you said, "But I wanted him to have fluids. He hasn't had anything for, like, 6 hours."

"Yes, he has," Tyler said, "You fed him in the car, after we left the hospital."

"I did?" you asked.

"Yes," Tyler laughed, "I don't know how much he had, but he had something. I think maybe he just might want to sleep now, he's tired."

"Yeah," you said, looking down at him, "I just want to sit up with him for a bit, and make sure he doesn't have an allergic reaction. You're not allergic to any antibiotics, right?"

"No," Tyler said, smirking at you. "The doctor asked us that, at the hospital."

"He did?" you asked.

"Yes," Tyler smiled, his hand smoothing over your head. "You're exhausted, babe. Do you want me to put him in his bed?"

"No," you said. "I can't sleep right now, anyways. We can watch T.V., if you want."

"'K," Tyler said, "Grey's?"

You shook your head. "I don't think I can handle that right now."

"Okay," Tyler said, grabbing your remote and getting on your bed, sitting on top of the blankets with the dogs. "Let's watch something funny. Oh, we can watch that house show you liked."

"Okay," you said. Even though you were really just barely watching, your eyes heavy as you rocked your baby, kissing him, and just feeling grateful that it wasn't worse. You felt chilled, too, and you realized that you'd probably been cold the whole evening, and yet hadn't realized it, your eyes watering, not from emotion, but more so because you were just so wholly exhausted, emotionally and physically.

"Tyler?" you asked, after it was after 1, and you'd been sitting up with Bentley for over and hour and nothing had changed, other than the fact that he'd fallen asleep on you. "Could you bring in his swing from the living room? I want to see if he'd sleep better like that, if he's on an incline, it might make his ear hurt less?"

"Yeah, sure," Tyler said. And once he did, you just stood up with Bentley slowly, very carefully setting him in his swing.

"Shh...." you said when he stirred a little, and you kept crouched in front of him until he seemed to settle, and then you smiled at Tyler, backing away slowly and looking for your pajamas where you'd left them on the floor. You changed, in the dim light, realizing that Tyler hadn't seem you naked since you'd given birth, but you didn't care anymore.

This was just your life now.

You just wanted it all out there, and you didn't want to play pretend anymore.

This was you.

You turned around, once you'd changed and you saw that he'd followed suit in getting ready for bed, his shirt gone, and you frowned, taking a step forward, your eyes focused on those very familiar numbers on his torso, opposite his Stanley cup tattoo, and that name, you'd chosen for your son, in cursive above.

"Is that his birth date?" you asked.

"Well, I hope so," Tyler laughed. "Someone really screwed up if it isn't."

"No, no, it's right," you said, stepping forward still, your hand extended as if you wanted to touch it.

"You didn't see it before until now?" Tyler asked, "I've had it the whole time I've been home."

"Really?" you asked, kneeling on the side of the bed so you could run your finger over it now.

"Yeah, I got it after the playoffs," he said, and you stood back up.

"Wha - why?" you asked dumbly.

"Because he's always gonna be a part of me," Tyler answered, matter-of-factly.

"Really?" you asked with your whole heart.

"Yeah, of course," Tyler smiled at you. "C'mon, boys, move over, let Mama in."

You managed to wiggle your way in, curled up, but it didn't really matter, laying on your side so you could still see Bentley sleeping, and you felt the warmth of Tyler behind you. You smiled, reaching your hand back to find Tyler's and you threaded your fingers through his, wrapping his arm around you, and you felt him move closer, his lips pressed against the back of your head.

You just needed to know he was there, with you, too.

#wont go slowly #Tyler Seguin #tyler seguin imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey imagines #hockey imagine

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poppyknitt · 5 years

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You Sure It’s Not A Dog?- A JSE Egos Fanfic

Recap: Schneep has inadvertently adopted a small horseshoe bat (which is a kind of fruit bat), as a result of it smashing through his window and breaking one of its wings, rendering it entirely useless. Chase seemed to be extremely fascinated by the little creature, and upon discovering that he (the bat) had no name, despite having been around for ages, opted to call him “Nectar”, for his and the rest of his species’ love of nectar. Oh, also, Jackie has a Peregrine Falcon for a sidekick, and Marvin accidentally created two sentient, carnivorous plants, one free-roaming and snake-like in build but cat-like in nature (named “thorn”), and the other (named “chomp”) too large and mouthy to be allowed anything other than confinement to a pot.

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[April 11th, 2017, our time]

Henrik hurried to the vet’s, his bat friend on his shoulder, as he cradled a cat meowing in pain, with slightly bloody bandages poorly wrapped around its head. He had found it stumbling clumsily around an alleyway, blood slowly oozing from where its eyes should’ve been, clearly having just lost them in a fight a few hours beforehand. The poor thing was obviously getting a bit lightheaded, and the fuzz around its eyes was stained with half-dried, old, and new blood, presumably each from when it had its head in different positions during a rest.

As soon as he stepped through the door to the clinic, the clerk was calling for one of the veterinarians, and several of the other medical staff worked the cat out of his arms and started asking questions.

“How did this happen?!”

“I am afraid I do not know. I found him stumbling out of an alleyway with his eyes like this, so I dropped everything, wrapped them up, and took him here straight away.”

By this point, Dr. Lewis was quickly rushing the cat to a room he could not see.

“Do you know how much blood he’s lost?!” The nurse continued to ask questions, clearly worried.

“Enough to make him dizzy, but in terms of cat, I am unaware of how much that actually is. They are not as big as humans, so it could be anything from eight of a liter to a full liter, and I would not know.”

“He may have to stay here for a night or so. Is that alright?”

“Yes, is fine! Just get the poor thing’s eyes fixed or something, I do not care how long it will take.”

“Okay. Thank you for bringing him so soon, and for being so patient. We’ll update you on his condition as soon as we know he is stable enough to be left for a few minutes.”

“Is no problem. Is alright if I wait in clinic until then?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s fine.” The nurse smiled thankfully at him, and quickly went to assist in the care of the poor ball of fluff he’d just brought in.

Schneep walked over to a chair that was placed by the wall, and slumped down into it, running a hand through his hair. He was very well aware of several people who were either looking around with wide eyes, or staring either at him or in the direction the nurses ran with the highly bloodied cat.

After about thirty minutes had gone by, he felt his phone buzz. It was Jackie, whom was worried, because he was over 45 minutes late, which almost never happened. He sighed, and opened up his messenger app, responding fairly quickly to his brother.

I am fine. Ran into severely wounded animal. Is no big deal. Will be home before tomorrow morning, hopefully.

The response was just as worried as he’d thought it would be.

What? Wounded animal?! Where?! Did you go straight to the vet’s office or something?!

He rolled his eyes, laughing softly in amusement at his brother’s immediate change of focus.

Yes. Cat was bleeding from the eyes, and acting like it had just finished its fifth bottle of vodka. Had no time to waste.

Jackie’s worry could almost be heard through the messages, even as the subject changed,

Well, uh, in other news... We’ve, uh, got a new ego. ‘S name is Chase. He’s a vlogger, I think. Uh, mind if I share your number with him?

He tsked in amusement as he responded.

No. Does not matter to me. He will get it some way or another, so is probably best he gets it now.

Jackie thanked him, and his phone went quiet for a few minutes. Then, a text from an unknown number buzzed in.

Hey bro! I assume you’re the doctor guy?

He took a moment, not sure how to respond to it.

Yes. You are Chase, correct?

You betcha! So... What’s the story with the cat?

Very long. Not ended yet. Will elaborate more when we meet face-to-face.

That’s understandable. You do you, my man.

He laughed softly, having a feeling he would get along well with the newcomer.

~~~

“He will live, however, I’m afraid he will not survive if left to wander the streets once his wounds heal.” The nurse from earlier explained. The tom cat was being left in a well-kept cage for the night, where he would be carefully monitored. He was sleeping in a well-padded, presumably very comfortable bed, kept inside a one-level cat tree, had an automatic feeder next to it, and on the other side of the cage, a fresh, unused litter box, situated a couple inches away from his food and water bowls.

“Are you sure you will be able to watch him all night? Surely you finish closing the clinic up and go home about an hour after new customers are not allowed in?”

“Well, yeah, but we can have a few doctors stay behind and work overtime to keep an eye on him. They’ll just get more pay at the end of the week...”

Henrik laughed a little as he spoke, “Ah, nonsense. There is no need to do that; I can just take the little one home. I work late hours at home, anyways, so caring for him would provide me an excuse to take a break every now and then.”

“Well, I’ll have to check with the doctor on that. I have no doubts that he would be fine with it, but you know how things go in the workplace.”

“Yes, yes, that is fine. I do not care if I have to wait a little longer. Is not a big deal anyhow.”

“Oh, well, thank you, again, for your patience. I’ll be with you shortly.” She smiled, and quickly hurried off. One of the other regular clients, an older woman, was smirking at him.

“Ah, do not give me that, ma’am. Our relationship is strictly professional.” She made a small laugh-like noise at that, and looked away, still smiling.

~~~~

[The next day]

Chase watched the ball of fluff that the doctor dude had brought home the night before, unsure of how to approach this tiny beast. From what he understood about cats, they were very different from dogs, in almost every way. What was more, though, was that he only had past experience dealing with dogs, so he had no idea how to approach a cat, let alone one that was recently blinded, and had its head almost entirely covered in bandages.

“Here, kitty kitty kitty... It’s okay. I just wanna pet you, alright..?” He whispered, internally thanking the cat gods when it looked at him. He slowly approached the large-looking beast that laid on the table top, a bit afraid that it might lash out at him.

“Mrrwah?” It meowed, tilting its head in curiosity, like a dog would. He paused, wondering if he’d heard it meow before. Probably not.

He slowly extended a hand out to it, making sure it could sense his presence. As soon as his hand got near its head, however, it lightly head butted him, and started purring. He smiled, happy to see that it was friendlier than what most people would want you to believe a cat could be.

“You don’t have a collar, do ya, kitty? I’m assuming that means you’re not someone’s pet already?” He asked softly, sitting down in a nearby chair.

“Prrrmrrwah.” It seemed to smile.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He grinned, “You need a name if I’m gonna call ya something other than ‘kitty’, though.”

“Mrrrwarowh.”

He laughed, “... Right... Why don’t we just leave the naming to the humans, then?”

“Awuroh.”

He started petting it, and, much to his delight, found that its luxurious, long coat was actually much softer than it looked. It was still purring, as it laid its head down onto its paws, and attempted to find a good resting position that wasn’t too uncomfortable or painful. He offered his free hand as a sort of pillow or something, and it gladly accepted it, promptly resting its head up against his hand.

“... I’m gonna call you Rogers.”

“Prrrrrrrmrrwah...”

Jackie watched Chase happily interacting with the new foster, a soft smile on his face. He figured that if this one ended up in the same position as Henrik’s bat, Chase would probably be the best fit for him, which was good to know. He had a feeling that Chase would probably be quite a bit upset if he found out that the cat was going to have to leave after having spent so long with them.

~~~~

[June 17th, 2017, our time]

“No, no, is fine! I understand completely. Blind cats are not for everyone. Thank you for calling anyways. Have a great day, Sir.” Henrik finished up another phone call. They had gone through everyone who had shown an interest in adopting an animal from them, at least, after the animal’s injuries were as healed as they could get. No one wanted Rogers, and everyone seemed to have different reasons, that ranged from “Oh, I just don’t like cats”, to “Nope, too fluffy”, and/or “I don’t think I can care for a blind animal”.

Chase sighed, holding the sweet, fluffy boy in his lap, petting him softly. He didn’t want Rogers to leave, but at the same time, he hated that nobody would take such a sweet, dog-like cat. Bingsepticeye, who was sitting in a nearby chair, side glanced at Jackie, and then opened his mouth to speak, “What if we let Chase keep him? They really seem to get along well.”

“... That... is a good idea. Chase, your thoughts?” Schneep looked at him.

His face lit up in excitement as he listened to the others, “Really?! W-We can keep ‘em?!”

Schneep laughed at his excited joy, “Yes, if you really wish for him to stay.”

“Prrahwrah!” Rogers meowed, sitting up and lightly bopping his head against Chase’s chin.

“Well, I think he’s already made up his mind.” Chase laughed, and Rogers started purring very loudly.

Jackie grinned, “That settles it then! Rogers stays with us.”

——————————————————

WorldView Prologue: Part Three

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Well, now, here we have Rogers, the cat with the personality of a dog, who lost his sight in a fight with another clawed animal, presumably a cat. I think he’s my favorite of the pets so far, just because he manages to somehow be really adorable, even with the unsightly scars over his eyes and eyelids. Plus, of the more developed pets, he’s the purest, happiest bean. I just fuckin adore the lil’ guy. Oh, yeah, also I’m doing one or more fics more than usual today, bcause, 1, I’ve been working on this one for several days now, and 2, again, as i said in the most recent chapter of World Initiative, I’m lowkey kinda having a few emotional dissociation/disconnection problems today, and currently writing is the only cure. ... Benefits... of mental issues..? I guess?

@antis-loyal-puppet

@tiny-septic-puppet

@chaoticcrimsonrose

@septic-dr-schneep

@rorald-spooks

#jacksepticeye #chase brody #henrik von schneeplestein #jackieboy man #bingsepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #fanfic #WorldView #wv!chase #wv!henrik #wv!jackie #wv!bing s.e.#rogers the cat #hey btw fun fact #i came up with rogers name because i was trying to think of the saints of the 20th century and uh #mr rogers came to mind #so yeah #we have a cat named after mr rogers now

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no-ns-en-si-ca-l · 5 years

Text

FORMAL EXERCISES IN THE RIGHT USE OF A GRAMMAR • Jamie Green

SCOTLAND

1. rare horrification by made a manichaean slip in the necropolis but quelled chance to scrawl a glasgow feel fleeting not shallow but digger slake of soil flim chaul charcoal flaking so un so coming on not stopping on a solar sex and quasi-scéance blank child.

2. hail notes from a chime-ape drawn revelation of earth blood math but disappeared witness at grave moment and let the big hope perish by hoping way all wrong that no nerves splayed on the firmament, fits nicely a noose round the neck of a star; blindly river driver opens a fluid fix for toothless ether shawl spree wending currents and accounts accounts not an account story but story yes but always how; what is me and what is movie or salt; a hanger very much.

3. gobs of help us want us to help gawks why not let’s us two; counting on meeting stuck pose: her posse such demanding such tightly stretched ugly incalculable clipping on and on okay up to the master wrecking; scores of night rattle assault stories whipping out of shape a clap on the heels stamped to be laid out in monstrous night fall upon an unwatered domestic flatness; no horseshoe a cost a capping ball sputtering face dethrone a trust the form of a core lacking now comes through the thick liquid gazing and fear of a smile or laughing through it; the smell and the smell and kissing furnished biproximate edge warp proxy of erotic steering someway named already to which degree is a voluble knot of bioenergetic parsimony.

4. lazing chandelier, phallic shadow cast upon a sliver of wall paint adjoining windows on high, looking over the night of weiner strasse foibles, jacob is reminded of self. when the score is felt but isn’t known is that called body? is body the crystallizing of spirit snail’s vital juices? the once shimmering coat is dull but just because the words are sharp and bright; the odd cock with shrunken testes looks down from up some mild summer night.

5. a boat, fluck and morris of owe one is (s)cotch: i’m fed and hall. i’m here to tell you a story. it’s about him, morris. morris ensouled a blackened victor but spinning and couldn’t manage him. an older or taller boy shamus telling a joke a tempest groin and slosh taste and morris’ fear came to the front. like a stack of weary flagstones morris’ block head cracked well and white tears owed out. the fissure was remember and a lot of dots of looking made it stick solid are you so scared yet he asked, and a stem more real grew from between the rainbow bands and a flower more real bloomed across the white wreckage of some very old ideas-field.

BEFORE, THEN

1. a foal pecked.

2. on a well-shared hand you’ll have a hoarding and by a sleepless steam-tumble train tracks sparking. there walls making a symbol split in odd manner real fire from five from three from two and such can be word making. a congeries puffs without stretching any container. any container it is is a temple and at a loss at least and at least silently observers sit and some more observe indecent humility and so more even only sits planted on the spot and when split into formal terms of underpowered amatory diction this becomes that rather concerned concern right up to wherein only the split-off part in the one hand striking as while hot opportunity bubbles up primarily as only coins can. a congeries is but difficult to blame but why. a congeries is and difficult at home and that is why: the eyes agape means chance reception of a directed arrow then tremulous shackle-life then the pain of the lingual baptism which begins as a benign point of point and evolves furthermore as an interminably drawn and distended prescription c̄ point. the wonting subject’s already all pointed out and too fatigued to point whilst the point isn’t quite there too but certainly the wonting subject and the point are born of a single dreadful dimension after all and long before there were channels. a flustering gust transmits a stupefaction called specialization why in wintry tome-forms we find entombed plant facts not leaning naturally but made to this wise by a manually rotated and widely trumpeted viewport. now that there but me i also shape! hand hands cup container has and always has in the not-always been the just very same great-big disembodied hiding hands, the invisible mother-fathering of incorrigibly truculent quanta. sway, saffron. sway and saffron.

[VERILY, I SAY...]

verily, i say: a cutting is a pairing.

subject and object are delusional language problems for the disillusioned, further confounded by eyesight.

for instance: these, lips, that, fish, the, flowers. these lips, that fish the flowers. these lips that, fish the flowers. these lips that fish, the flowers. these lips that fish the flowers.

a brainless future. a featureless brain. so one day i can gaze at hole one while fucking hole two.

THIS THAT

this that: in a hallowed, fried world uncatched a whiff, small uh maybe a tattered rug, do a stamp across wafting up red rosies good perfume good for a whiff and straight back down into the fibers

this that: coquettish slack in a charm-wave of glances of exquisitely lyrical arms, unearthly bending doffed the shorts brown skin leg flux cast into the atavistic eye spectacles fitted with lilac glass labor around in an oracular fabrication of a crystal vision of disappointed victory show us the clam

this that: chills, oh! the chills of rapt tossup in the breadbasket of hive life how can one dare to dream erstwhile flap covers one eye as a marlinspike pierces the other... such stark hungriness could up and eat up the rosy cross if it were cooked to keep the hive happy this that: friends, fixety in all matters of leaning you couldn’t pry them open if you tried those awful shoes, anyway

this that: a change on wet collider can mean many more if the vim might catch and endorse the drift or sprinkle rabbits in my heart: to promise change always

this that: i cry lachrymony! the weight of the wind causes leaden shoulders to flex and panoptical concerns, a fluttering crystal wig someway winding by nervous tracts in wild wind

this that: flag of my saggy heart flap who mightn’t flag in this woolen, western wind i vie as a decaying tooth might but after all a tooth is a tooth and i

FAERIE DWELLING

he's bled a tonic at discount jaws and whether porn is school underwater. off lug and want is not as lug of and in. hatch. awful gazelle chest pairing cut nut soporific dangling and is it calm in is. trident gauze alcohol hate for watches hate time and call me when it's gone a free house for now and semi circular aperture for dejected thinkables. am glued callous and turf fire crescent seashell blonde bat check for noise eyes.

as the sincerity of our promise to cultivate and charm fear increases, so do we traverse time to halt the punitive and portentous hand which oversees the garden.

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jackblankhsh · 7 years

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Why I Quit: Hotel Concierge

When I took the job at the hotel I expected something more glamorous. The day I arrived for work, finding in the parking lot a naked man in Santa beard and cap beating a pimp with a sock full of batteries – I suspected the description related over the phone might not have been accurate.

The pool did not resemble a glittering sapphire. Rather, it seemed to be a kidney shaped mound of dirt dotted by several tombstones for pets. The complex of hotel suites, a hive of rooms in a horseshoe, suggested a building could get addicted to meth, suffering all the adverse physical side effects associated with such; graffiti tattooed brick; an odd implicative assortment of vehicles in the lot, from high end luxury SUVs to rust bucket sedans; occasional whiffs of fresh mint stabbing through a miasma of weed, piss, and compost… part of me wondered if somewhere in Chicago a more regal establishment existed, its own nefarious history passed on to this place like some architectural Portrait of Dorian Grey.

A simpler, less mystical explanation would be the Breeze Inn used to be a fine place once upon a time, but that era existed decades ago. Before superhighways, every city owned specific streets operating as the main thoroughfares into downtown. Other businesses gravitated to these veins, feeding off the steady flow of tourists and traveling professionals; eventually falling into the slow decay that followed the arrival of quicker, more direct routes stabbing the heart of the city.

Plus, gone are the days of a traveling salesperson, retiring from the road to rest in a quiet motel. Now they arrive, and dart straight from the airport to appointments. Whether successful or not, the modern professionals then depart – here and gone the same day – red eye on to the next opportunity. There’s no need to slip back to ersatz comforts, raiding the mini-bar on the company dime, celebrating victory, or taking the edge off failure, either way numbing to the fact they’re miles from home. Cloisters of lonely itinerant professionals – maybe such places were always meant to die. However, it’s a slow death that the manager seemed eager to pay someone to witness. So I settled in for the moribund days of the Breeze Inn.

I helped Butterscotch shovel ice from the bin into a large trash bag. She held the bag open, while I scooped in bucket loads.

“I tell you man, I tell you I hate this fucking guy, but he pays good,” Butterscotch said.

Making small talk, “I wouldn’t be too comfortable with him either.”

“I mean like it’s easy and all. Alls I gotta do is fill the bathtub with ice, soak there a few, and lie on the bed. Don’t gotta move, or do nothing, while he does his thing. It’s easy.”

“And it pays good,” I said.

“Yes, it does.” A look flashed across her eyes like a deer missing its chance to escape headlights. Butterscotch shrugged, “Beats what I used to do.”

“What was that?” Seeing the bag mostly full I closed the ice bin.

“Hotel clerk,” she laughed, “I’m just playin’.”

Chuckling too, “I know. Have you a good time Butter.”

She hoisted the bag over her shoulder, “You too Connie.”

I’d long since stopped trying to correct the permanent residents. About a week in, attempting to jazz up my job, I began referring to myself as the hotel concierge. This resulted in customers referring to me as Connie.

Back in the front office I found a group of bleary eyed teens. College kids on their first road trip, they stopped at the Breeze Inn because they couldn’t afford anywhere else.

The boy who fancied himself in charge, upon seeing me, angrily rang the desk bell. I walked around, and removed the bell from the counter.

Smiling, “How may I help you?”

“Last night… we got no sleep. Someone tried to break into our room. I braced the door with a chair, and spent the whole night holding a Bible to bash whoever burst in.”

Shocked that a room still possessed a whole Bible – guests tended to use the pages as rolling papers – I remarked, “Well, if they really wanted to break in they’d’ve probably smashed the window. That’s happened before.”

Looking confused the boy said, “What? Seriously, dude, we want our money back.”

“Dude, did you spend the night in the room?”

He glared, “Yeah. So what?”

I replied, “So read the sign.”

I pointed. The group collectively turned to find a bare wall. By the time they turned back, I held a bat wrapped with barbed wire, “You spent the night. You don’t get shit.”

Slowly the pack of children receded to their car. On the way out a young lady dressed like a burnt out trucker shouted, “I’m giving this place the worst review. Zero stars!”

Mathematically speaking that might actually improve our standing. However, I felt no need to tell her that. Those kids didn’t yet understand that for the low, low price of fifty dollars they experienced a story they could tell the rest of their lives. Some pay more for less.

Yet, I didn’t have much time to reflect on such things. Taking the bat in hand I hurried to room 207. At three on the dot, every afternoon, a thin envelope peeked out from under the door. It contained enough cash for one more night, paid daily since 1987. The manager suspected vampires resided inside. I saw no reason to doubt that. All I knew, if I didn’t get to the money first some resident would snatch the cash. Sure enough, stepping onto the landing I saw Willy the Goat idling towards 207.

Pointing with the bat, “Get away from there Willy.”

“Fuck you, Connie, I ain’t doin’ nothing.” Tucking his hands into his pockets, their greasiness darkening the fabric from the inside out, Willy stomped away.

Collecting the envelope I glanced inside, a blood stained twenty, and several crinkled, gutter plucked ones. Slipping it in a back pocket, I decided to tour the rooms quickly. At open doors I paused to knock politely, peer in, and inquire if anyone needed anything.

Room 213 needed her dick sucked. Room 108 wanted a bowl of fingernails. Room 201 required nothing, emphasizing the fact by pointing a gun; I backed away from the nine year old girl slowly. For the most part guests needed fresh towels, needles, and bandages, the usual assortment of necessities at the Breeze Inn; what I could handle myself, I did, delegating other responsibilities to Isabella, the head maid.

Isabella maintained the Breeze Inn with a stoicism rivaled by stone. She slips into a room, tap-tap-tapping her key softly, “Housekeeping,” upon seeing a junkie on the bed, she checks the pulse. Finding none, she flags a few strays, runaway dusthead punk rock kids failing proudly. For the promise of a free night’s rent they drag the body to a nearby dumpster, and pitch it – out of sight, out of mind. Tap-tap-tapping, she finds a shit coiled like soft serve ice cream in the middle of the floor. She cleans the mess without so much as a sigh; however, should the guest return she walks casually by. Using a knitting needle she exacts a piquerist vengeance, stabbing deep into a butt cheek. The other two maids, a pair of ladies I’m sure should be in high school – though the education here is better than a degree – take orders in brusque Spanish. At the end of the day I pay her cash, wondering why she always smells like coconut – obviously a cream, or perfume, but why that scent exactly – I never ask because she seems the kind of person who’ll tell you what you need to know when she feels you need the info. Then the three maids depart together in a wood panel station wagon, leaving me alone for the evening.

Every hotel possesses at least one ghost. And frankly, given the amount of suicides, deaths, and murders which occurred here, the Breeze Inn surprising only possessed one. Interestingly enough, though, it’s one of the more famous Chicago specters.

On weekends, several ghost tours rolled by the hotel. Passengers pressed their faces to windows, ogling the location, though never daring to set foot off the bus. Seated on a chair outside the lobby, smoking and sipping whiskey, I could hear the static cracked recitation of tour guides. The blather all sounded the same: “This (hiss) The Breeze Inn (crack-hiss) once a premiere Lincoln Avenue stop (hiss-hiss) ’s what you see now. In December 1980, this is where…”

The story is myth. For those few who don’t recall, whatever reasons why, the bare facts start in December 1980, a legendary musician stopped for the weekend. His band used to stay at the Breeze Inn as part of superstition, having stayed there during the early days touring on pennies in a van more likely to breakdown than arrive on time. So, whenever in Chicago, he insisted on staying there. Coming back from a radio interview the musician saw a fan waiting by the room. The musician reached for a pen. The fan reached for a gun. The musician went to sign an autograph, and the fan shot. The musician died. The fan claimed to be an angel sent to make the musician immortal. Like I said the rest is myth, the “real” why debated always since the plain truth is too unpalatable – lunatics don’t need reason to do crazy shit.

Soon as the bus pulled away, cameras flashing, the ghost peers out of the office, “They gone?”

“Yep,” I say, cracking two beers, “Whiskey slug?”

(Whiskey slug: personal slang for whiskey double.)

Taking a seat next to me he says, “No thanks Connie. I don’t feel like getting too strange this evening.”

“Hello.”

“How do you do ma’am?”

“I have cancer.”

I nodded, “Not well then.”

She smiled like a kindergarten teacher comforting a kid with a skinned knee, “I’d like a room.”

“Okay. Sorry to be blunt, but I find it’s easier, um; there’s a thirty dollar additional fee applied to any guest we suspect is planning to, well…”

“Suicide?”

“Yeah.”

“Actually, it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Marissa Oak explained things clearly, leaving no doubt as to her state of mind, intentions, or willingness to be dissuaded. She intended to rent a room for two months. Her doctor prophesized she would not last longer than one, but on the off chance she lived more, and for any inconvenience, she felt obliged to pay two in advance. During that time she planned to stay in her room, allowing anyone who wished to visit her to spend however long they wished.

I asked, “Is it a kind of performance art?”

She shrugged, “In a way. More than anything else I just want some company.”

Filling out her forms – writing somewhat escaped her since the cancer got to her brain – I asked, “What about family and friends?”

“They’ll be here. But I kind of want new strangers too. It’s like Wilde said, something like the beauty of new friends is they don’t know the old stories.”

“Do you have dinner plans?”

She patted my hand, “Don’t be a cliché.”

“Well, on that note, do you have any drugs?”

She looked at me sidewise, “Morphine.”

“We got junkies here. Be careful. They’ll steal it.” I furrowed my brow, “Shit.”

“What?” Marissa asked.

“If you attract a crowd that means worse than junkies, fucking tourists.”

She chuckled. I didn’t.

I swung the barbed wire bat, “Back! Back you savages!”

Everyday droves of tourists arrived. None seemed familiar with the concept of a line. Whenever they scattered into something nebulous, the horde pushing in to watch Marissa die, I herded them back into formation with the bat. The manager and I worked in tandem, taking turns herding and performing typical Breeze Inn duties. When she could, Isabella lent a hand, her glare pushing the crowd from chaos to order.

It took three days for things to truly get out of hand. By then news crews began arriving, spreading the word, reports drawing more and more spectators. Members of her family did the same, dispersing word online. Marissa wanted the company of strangers, well, she got it.

Folks came from as far as Orlando to sit with her. Some chatted, conversations ranging from the mundane to grasping at the profound. Others arrived to tout holistic cures Marissa politely declined. Some stood silently, and left as quietly. She welcomed all with a smile. Those who held out a hand to shake she hugged. Some kept a respectful distance, I suspected to hide their discomfort touching a wax wrapped skeleton. Still others came to defeat accusations of pretention by leeching off Marissa’s death to seem deeper; I remember a twig like woman lying on the bed with Marissa, cuddling while the twig’s friend recorded them. I wanted to smash the camera, but somehow sensing the intention, Marissa suggested by a subtle expression I leave them alone. So I did. She didn’t see what I saw -- #Idiedwithher. She saw something positive I can’t relate because I couldn’t perceive it well enough to describe.

When she slept many left. Others set up a tent city in the parking lot. The manager, seizing on the opportunity, charged ten bucks per tent occupant. They paid. It felt obscene, yet I still collected the cash every evening. Though, that said, I skimmed a few off the top to bribe the worst junkies.

Hand a ten, “Leave her drugs alone.”

“Whatev’s Connie. Jeez. Acting like I’m some fucking scumbag. I don’t rob the dead.”

But you would. Who wouldn’t? It’s not like they can stop you.

By the third week Marissa couldn’t get out of bed. She could barely speak, often just able to force a kind of gargle-cluck. Her eyes appeared to go in and out of focus.

The tourists stopped flooding in. Many who stayed aimed all manner of camera at her, streaming her decline in real time.

“We’re with her now…”

No, you’re not, I thought, but remembering her glances I respected what would’ve been Marissa’s wishes. I let them be.

Off duty hookers brought her water. I remember Butterscotch laying a cold cloth on Marissa’s forehead. She said, “This is how my mama died. She went in a better place than this shit hole. You know what I mean, right Connie?”

“Yeah, Butter, I hear ya.”

Towards the end the news crews departed, though reporters called regularly to see if Marissa died. They shot enough stock footage they just needed to know when to say the end occurred. The tourists mostly left. Even the hashtag allstars fled as reality crept in. What few remained occupied the parking lot wondering what to do next.

Meanwhile, in room 105 Marissa lay dying. Her family and friends surrounded the bed. Her breathing came irregularly, inspiring the guilty desire she die now, for her own good as well as theirs. I stood in the doorway watching.

The manager approached, “Hey, Connie, since shit’s calmed down a bit, the usual stuff needs to get done.”

Crossing my arms, “And what?”

“And you need to do it.”

“You’re saying I need to do my job, not be here.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“Then I quit.”

A few hours later Marissa breathed her last. When I walked away I saw the hookers on the second floor holding junkie candles in a vigil. The tent town broke up quickly, washed away on a flood of tears. I saw Marissa’s younger brother disappear into 216, a heroin black hole he’d been orbiting.

In the office I collected my last few day’s pay. The phone rang. I answered.

“Hello?”

“This is channel {redacted for legal reasons}. Is she dead yet?”

Looking out the front I saw Marissa taking a seat next to the Musician. He handed her a beer. She smiled at me, and waved.

I said, “Nope. She’s gonna live forever.”

#writing #honestyisnotcontagious #fiction #.suburbansurrealism #dark humor #satire #short story #weird #whyiquit #surrealism

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