( re: ) non verbal prompts . . . accepting as long as it’s not this rude ass one. ∗ 1oo﹕ sender has just died, receiver finds out.
she’s seven and he’s ten. the brisk chill of autumn air sticks to her skin as she breezes by, quickly, adamant to keep up with him and his impossibly long limbs. she’s half a metre behind him, the crunch of fallen leaves echoing her wake in quick pursuit. their laughter entangles in the air, carefree and bitten by the cold. but neither of them seem to care. they weave through the trees indelicately, the overcast darkens the sky but she’s not afraid. not when she’s got @ltrooster by her side. and finally, when her lungs feel like they’re going to give in on themselves, they come to a stop in an opening in the meadow; where the the only sliver of sun drapes over the shifting grass and dancing flowers. their spot: unmarked, hidden from the rest of the world. stolen whispers and pinky promises; where the troubles of reality would melt away in the serenity of a shared escape. hallowed was this place. as was he. they lay down side by side, the prickle of grass makes her giggle, delicately brushing her bare legs. and when she turns her head to look at her best friend, she smiles. ‟ can we stay here for a while? ” when he nods silently, all feels right in the world.
she’s fifteen and he’s eighteen. they stand by his bronco, the heat of summer swells around them and she feels ill. she chalks it up to the sheer force of warmth beating down upon their backs but she knows it’s because he’s leaving. the entirety of her life has been an encompassment of bradley bradshaw. the sole unwavering force in her life; a magnitude of strength and protection she could not will herself. that morning, she’d given him a friendship ring. two matching rings for them both to sport; and as silly as she had felt, he’d welcomed the gift with a brilliant smile. now, they stand face to face, silver rings sitting snugly on adjacent fingers. but with his bags packed, he departs on the next chapter of his life. carmen smiles, her chest fills with joy for him [ this is what he deserves, a fresh start. to mourn the loss of two parents before the cusp of adulthood was unbearable, unimaginable. she hopes he can find happiness out there. she doesn’t realize he could find happiness in her. ] but tears brim her eyes. ‟ you’ll come back to visit soon right? you’ll meet me in the meadow? ” this time when he nods, nothing feels right in the world.
she’s twenty - eight and he’s thirty one. the realization of love comes quickly, a passionate kiss and entangled in each other, slotted together like two puzzle pieces forged in a fateful fire. everything in her erupts. she’s not sure she’s ever felt alive until this very moment. and when they pull apart, laughter spilling from their lips and foreheads pressed to each other, she smiles. it’s taken her twenty - eight years to realize that he was everything to her: her best friend, her protector, her light to guide her in the dark, her lover and her soulmate. but she’s thirty - one and he’s thirty - four, when the world collapses around her. she loves him deeply, irrevocably, without complete and utter control ── their parting comes with mutual agreement, the severity of line of work causes unbearable tension, grinding their bones and the precipice of relationship until nothing was left. she watches as he leaves and wishes nothing more than to be back in the meadow.
she’s thirty - two and he’s thirty - five. time and circumstance brings them back together at top gun. she thinks she loves him more than the day he left. what was that saying? distance makes the heart grow stronger? but anger seeps from her like poison, settling in her veins like a toxin she can’t rid. in a collision of sentiment boiling over the edge, they find homes in each other’s arms once more; necessity in comfort when faced with plausibility of fatality. in the weeks leading up to stemming danger, they fall back into themselves, where the world melts away at the edges of her gaze and all she can see is him. carmen is no religious woman, but she prays every night. if divinity would lend an ear, she could echo her incessant desire to start anew, to not let a single fleeting second go by without him in her life. but she’s not a religious woman, and she’s reminded of that as she stands wavering on the carrier. [ there’s too much noise around her, bleeding into her ears. she’s unsteady, impossibly unsteady. her limbs feel weak, her chest feels like she’s drowning by the wayside, inhaling water instead of oxygen. ] there’s a sudden clamour, a miraculous return of a jet. but when canopy lifts and reveals a singular person, the one other person bradley had called family besides her all these years. everything in her moves. all air is forced out of her lungs in an aching gasp, and when he looks at her, the words are written into his face before he even needs to speak. he opens his arms in an attempt to encircle her in them but stricken with grief, she slams her hands against his chest, red hot tears spilling down flushed cheeks. ‟ it should have been you. ”
the weeks shift with in a blur. numbness sets into her brittle bones, encompassing her frame like a warm blanket. she succumbs to it, allows it to house itself in her body. the days pass into weeks, day passing into night. difficulty breeds itself in maintenance of regular routine. calls and messages go unanswered. she lays in her bed, grasping articles of his clothing in her hands, worriment that his scent will soon fade and she’ll no longer have a living reminder of bradley in her life. the first time she leaves her apartment is the day of his funeral.
that morning, amidst the weight of her bones tugging her from the sheets which she’d drowned herself in, she’d nervously shuffled through the proceedings. as she stands in her bathroom, staring into the shell of a person she’d become in the mirror, she takes a deep breath. she pulls the friendship ring sitting on her index finger and moves it to her ring finger. she was his, forevermore.
there are too many people, too many attempts of comfort and conversation. she wills herself to put on a brave face but solemnity wears itself well on her features. it’s rainy that day, and she thinks he would have liked that. as they stand over the coffin, she shuts her eyes. the dryness of her throat is becoming overwhelmingly clear, so she swallows hard and attempts to blink back the tears. [ be strong for me, darling. you’ll be amazing still, without me. but i can’t. i don’t know how to do this without you. ] she feels someone wrap their arms around her shoulders and she doesn’t have the strength to push them off; she grounds herself in the touch, allowing her grief to overcome her.
she’s thirty - five now, the same age he was. wrapped in the comfort of his favourite jacket, she settles herself into the chilled grass. the sunlight peers into the opening of the meadow, and she smiles. then, she knows he’s there with her; bringing sun into her life, as he always had done. three years since his passing, and each year on that very day, she shuts off her phone and finds herself in their spot: the one place where she feels him the most with her, the place unknown to the world except them. she lays on her back, tresses of long, grown out hair splaying across greenery and she turns her head. the meadow had once been a safe haven for her, an escape when the burdens and heaviness of life could melt away in the company of fated souls. and now, it is a living memoir to the love of her life.
she shifts now to lay on her back, her gaze peers upwards at the sky. she allows the sunlight to soak her raw, to feel the warmth she’d once felt with him in her life. she watches the clouds shift in the sky, dancing across blue expanse. she shuts her eyes and imagines he’s there with her.
five years since his passing. their love is divine, stolen from the kept stars in the sky. the enormity of her sentiment for him breaks everything in her; every passing glance on the street, every friendly smile or attempted conversation is forsaken. the eternality of bond had become painfully evident the day she lost him. still, she struggles to fall into a normal lull in her life. everything reminds her of him, every minuscule detail she suddenly becomes attentive of. her smile has since returned, but she knows it’s not the same smile he had once pulled from her. she’s not sure that smile will ever return.
her footsteps are quiet, equally as quiet as her surroundings. emptiness seemed to be a resounding and returning state for her. she places two bouquets down, one at nick’s headstone, one at carole’s. then, she comes to a complete stop before bradley’s. empty - handed this time. she knows he would have hated the flowers. she presses a kiss to her joint index and middle finger before smoothing the same fingers over the stone. then, she takes a step back and lowers herself down, palms pressing into the grass as she settles in. anguish toys at the corners of her soft smile. ‟ happy birthday roo. forty years old! god, you would have been an old man. ” she laughs quietly to herself but the contemplation of what their life could have been brings tears to emerald gaze. ‟ what do you think we would’ve been up to today? maybe you would’ve finally put a ring on this finger and baby nick would’ve been here with us. ” her therapist tells her not to dwell on the what - ifs, that they’ll only destroy her. but she will always be haunted by the possibility of their life together, the one they should have had. the one they deserved. the one stolen from them.
she finds her outlet in speaking to him, in hoping that somewhere out in the infinite universe, he’s listening to her. that maybe, he’s looking down on her from above. ‟ that guy in my apartment complex is still trying to get me to go out for drinks with him. he seems nice enough but . . . ” he’s not you. she purses her lips, heavy sigh burdening her lungs. [ will i ever love the same way again? will i ever love somebody the way i loved you? i don’t think i want to. ] she tilts her head, squinting eyes ever so slightly as the glare of the sun begins hitting her square in the face. and suddenly, her smile brightens. ‟ i don’t think love’s in the cards for me anymore. not without you, anyway. maybe in the next life we’ll find each other and we can try again. ” she speaks honestly. therein houses no guilt in her frame at the plausibility of starting anew with someone else but sheer indifference; no one would ever compare to him. and rationality dictated that it would be unfair of her to implicate another in such a manner.
‟ maybe we’ll be chadley and barmen next time. ” her laugh echoes, dancing across her lips as she stares onward longingly. she wishes she could hear his laugh one last time. and maybe she’s hallucinating, but she swears she can hear it, soft in her ear. she toys with the ring sitting delicately on her ring finger and finally rises from her position on the floor. her gaze shifts momentarily to the empty space which laid next to his headstone and her chest tightens. she’d endlessly long to be with him again. ‟ happy birthday bradley. i love you forever. ”
she’s thirty - seven now, and he’s still thirty - five.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML, @ltrooster! here are our dumb children that i love with all my heart a.k.a carmen’s social media which solely features (1) bradley bradshaw. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!! ( equally as much as carmen loves bradley and that’s saying a lot!!!! ) get ready for that tgm bday watch!!!!!
the notion of being perceived is ravaged from particular career choice. where she stepped, blinding flashes erupted in emerald flares; the chatter, the hum of anticipation equally followed suit. there was familiarity in it, the simplicity of routine could easily bring complacency despite the delicacy of discomfort. but there’s something nerve wracking about tonight . . . something heavier hangs in the air, a tension built in the pit of her stomach as lithe limbs carried her forth. a click of heels against marble floor was the sole sound emanating as she crossed spacious expanse of her lobby, a deep breath inhaled through her nose prior to pulling open the pristine double doors.
and there he stands, at the base of winding porch; the simple glow of moonlight encompasses his features. something in her freezes. how easily @ltrooster ‘s presence causes her to unravel, pulling apart the perfectly sewn seams of collected demeanour, the air of confidence which matched every defining step is suddenly swallowed in her throat. she smiles then, a bashful one, and as if immediate recall of their arrangement strikes the forefront of her mind, she situates herself into a more playful disposition so as not to alert him to the softening of her chest. something akin to mischief begins painting the lines of crimson stained lips as she begins a slow twirl, the dip of satin dress hugging her frame, leaving back bare as she turned with agonizingly lethargic pace. and when she comes face to face with him once more, his words flush deep scarlet into velvet skin. carmen draws closer, slowly but surely. ‟ you know there’s no one around yet, right? ” she teases, but longing flourishes in her like the blossom of a rose . . . she hopes he means it.
( re: ) emotional prompts . . . selectively accepting. “ we were one hell of a pair, weren’t we? ”
she watches the daring luminescence cast a vivid glow over his tensed frame. she feels out of place, settling into the silence that they succumb to when the rest of his team departs, leaving @ltrooster & her alone in the barren room. the lanyard which settles beneath the dips of her collar bones boasts a gaudy VIP label & she’s more than certain he had insisted for the detail. his words come as a surprise; the off handed comment rousing something in her that she hadn’t planned for tonight. her careful gaze follows him, as it always did, watching the rise & fall of his shoulders cloaked by lightweight robe that hangs loosely off of his considerable frame. a sliver of bared chest shifts beneath the moving garment, disappearing into the shorts sitting snuggly on his waist.
if she shut her eyes, she could paint the very same image from ten years ago; wherein stature had grown, the tension sitting in the furrow of his brow remained the same. & despite the contentment ( the sheer excitement ) held in the centre of her chest at the opportunity to be here with him now, moments before he’ll take the stage, something melancholic twists at the pit of her stomach. carmen can’t help but think, what if? what if she hadn’t bit her tongue all these years? what if she’d been as brave as she willed herself to be a few mere nights ago when they encountered each other once more? would she have had 10 years worth of these very same memories? the reminiscing of memories shouldn’t be as painful as it is, but when she thinks of all the time lost, her heart wrenches with anguish. she gives him a small smile, tainted with grief of heartbreak she still carries with her, only beginning to heal now. ‟ yeah, we were. still are, no? ”
she’s never had great timing. always picking & choosing the wrong moments to allow the crux of her voice to find its’ way into the air. but her sentimentality, her utterly deep rooted fixation on him, the closeness of their bodies & the immediate comfort he’d brought to her weary frame . . . everything screams at her to say something. now, before the moment is lost forever. ‟ i’m sorry. i know you don’t want to hear it, especially now, but i just need to say it, okay? so be quiet and listen to me. i’m sorry for everything. i’m sorry for being a coward all those years ago & for not swallowing my pride when i realized what a horrible mistake i made. i never got over you, bradley bradshaw, & i wish i had just listened to my heart. i wish i got to spend every second of these past 10 years with you. but i just want you to know that i’m here to stay now. if you’ll have me. ” her words come out rushed, choppy; like she was fearful that if they didn’t come out now, they never would.
her cheeks are flushed red, a deep inhale of breath from the loss of it with jumbled confession. but she doesn’t regret her words, nor her timing, even if she knows he’ll hold this very moment over her for years to come. she rises from her seat on the couch stowed away in the corner of the room & crosses over to him, the gentle click of her heels emanating as she drew near. when she’s close enough, her hands dart forward, smoothing over the collar of his robe. a gentle smile curves rouged lips, adoring emerald hues lifting to meet his gaze with intention & purpose. ‟ now get out there and kick some ass. because i’m starving & you owe me a nice dinner. ”
( re: ) send me a ❤ + url for positivity . . . accepting and encouraging! @ltrooster
whew let’s buckle in right now because .......... i have a lot to say about my wife, the loml, my sweet angel baby, my favourite person on this HELLSITE! mal is just?! it’s hard to put into words how unbelievably wonderful i think she is. like really, it is? okay just listen up (full name redacted) i know you hear it from me literally all the time but idc SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!!!! you are so so so so so talented like it just blows my mind sometimes?! i sit there and read your replies to me and i am just so fucking.... SHOOK?! over how beautifully you write and how you just capture not only bradley but literally any of your muses sooooo well? like i swear i could just pick a random character out of a hat, throw it your way and you could just effortlessly portray them to a level of sheer perfection? but right now i want to talk specifically about brad brad for a second because, as i always tell you, the level of care and thought you have put into his characterization is absolutely unmatchable. there is something so spectacular about the way you think of the absolute tiniest details about him and how you can discuss certain situations and just perfectly characterize the way he acts, feels, thinks, and speaks. every time i watch tgm with you (like every other day it feels like now which i am BLESSED for) i look at bradley and i think......... he is fully mal’s bitch like i’m sorry but?! MAL OWNS HIM. HE IS UNTOUCHABLE BY ANYONE OTHER THAN MAL?! your talent is just to fucking die for honestly. i don’t know how you do it?! aside from your absolutely perfect portrayal, just everything you do is so?! amazing?! like please share some of your talent like it’s just not fair to keep all of it to yourself like come on.... how does one write so fucking beautifully and poetically and perfectly describe one’s thoughts and actions in a way that is art at this point? how does one create such beautiful graphics? how does one be effortlessly AMAZING? and i feel blessed to call you a friend like just to have your presence on my dash is a blessing in and of itself?! but to be able to experience this absolute brainrot with you has been a whole new level of blessing. you’ve been right by my side this whole time and i’m so thankful for it because this stupid little film really brought us together and now i can’t even imagine not chatting absolute shit or about our little demons every single day??? i tell you all the time that rice are truly like my favourite ship i’ve ever had the pleasure of writing and i will always remind you of that because of how much time and love we have poured into them it’s just such a blessing to have something like that on this stupid website and i am forever grateful for it?! you always make me want to be better, like you inadvertently push me to explore carmen and your writing literally makes me want to better my own writing like you just always inspire me so much? and even aside from all of the rp stuff, you bring so much positivity to my days just by being you. talking to you every day brings me so much joy, whether i am complaining about a million things as usual or we’re losing our minds over the absolute dumbest things. before carmen, i was feeling a little out of place here but you have absolutely made my experience here so much better and sparked a completely deeper appreciation for the rpc?! and i am seriously! grateful for it! you don’t even know!!! one day i am going to show up at your doorstep (courtesy of you doxxing yourself) with a box of mcgriddles, poutine, butter popcorn and a million other canadian delicacies and then drag you here for winter wonderland!!!! prepared to be SICK of me cause there’s no way you’re getting rid of me now thanks!!! i will follow u to the ends of the flipping earth!!!! EU AMO VOCÊ MINHA ESPOSA 🤍😭🗣😔🥺🌞🌹💞🤩😈💋👁👄👁👯♀️👩❤️👩👓👭🐓❤️🔥💗💛💚💖💜💘❤️💯‼️〽️⭐️🌧☃️💥🌏
( re: ) affectionate prompts . . . accepting. [ HELD ] for one muse to offer their hand out to the other to hold to comfort them
tension settles in her chest, every breath shuddering its’ way past shaky exhales. tenuous stretch of weeks had crept past with vigour, with accelerating vitesse that only stumbled to a halt now. here, where they stand on the carrier, shielded from any eyes other than their own, is her holy altar. he is her prayer, kept on the whisper of her lips. if she were ever to indulge in faith, it would be because of that look in his eye . . . one echoing more than either of them could ever strain together. a subtle cascade of moments collected in her mind; & now, this would be another: the closeness of terror stricken frames, tenderness held in gentle gazes & soft purse of lips. now, with confirmation that both of them would be flying, something otherworldly carves a home in the flesh of her aching body. the certainty of their fate was almost all but sealed. & if either of them were going to make it home, she prayed it would be him. @ltrooster holds a hand out for her to take, the speed in which she moves to root herself in his touch feels delayed to her. like a certain numbness has sunken into her bloodstream, pulling her from the ground which she engrains herself upon.
she can feel tears pricking at the sides of emerald gaze, that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach shifts her from foot to foot, anxiously & in hope of shaking it. she chances a quiet gaze upward at him only to meet the severity of his softened hues; when carmen looks at him, she sees the rest of her life. she sees her best friend, her soulmate, her home, her first love & her only love. she sees their laughter shared, the secrets ushered into awaiting ears, the tenderness of knowing smiles, the breaths entangled, the burning touch. she sees everything she could have ever wanted out of her life & more; but now, on the precipice of a lifetime or a beckoning end, she fears that these last lingering moments may be her only piece of forever to hold onto.
she exhales the steadiest breath she can muster, a desperate attempt to shake the pain which stitches itself into every line of her face, to instead offer him semblance of normality through a tight - lipped smile. ‟ we’re going to be okay. ” was she convincing herself or him? lesser lip is pulled between rows of teeth, tugging on the supple flesh with dictation of unsettling nerves. ‟ this is what we’ve been training for. we’re going to be fine. & we’re going to come home, together. you know why? ” there’s something fluttering in her chest, like her lungs are shaking with every single breath that passes through the jolted orifice. ‟ because you, bradley, always guide me home. ” you are my home. every ounce of her sentiment for him, the blinding love which threatens cardiac arrest with every gaze he settles on her, bleeds into each syllable lulled from her mouth. ‟ so bring me home, okay baby? bring all of us home. i know you will. ” her hand squeezes his, all the strength that she could possibly will, she hopes she can share with him. the unconditional belief she holds would break all bounds, all barriers they may ever face together. & as she stands here, where the rest of the world disappears behind him & she has the warmth of his touch to ground her, she thinks, if these are her last moments, at least she shared them with him, her sun.
ACT I ── DISPOSITION: ANGRY, FRUSTRATED, CRUSHED. ACT II ── REGARDING: QUESTIONING MINDS. STATUS: ACCEPTING. ── “ can we at least try to be civil? ”
she can shapeshift; mold herself into an apparition of a woman much stronger than what she felt on the inside. it’d been months now, since she’s last seen @ltrooster. the ruination of their relationship had been teetering for longer than that. fear and worry coaxed them both out of something that felt right, something that felt like it was inevitable with how deeply rooted their bond was. ( but their line of work didn’t leave much room for anything else. ) here, they meet once more, hand picked and assembled for a dangerous assignment. and these are the first words she’s met with? after all this time?
incredulity settles into her features, twisting like a knife into something more akin to anger. ‟ civil? ” she repeats, dumbfounded by the question that dared to part his lips. a scoff rings through the air. ‟ you really are incredible, bradley. ” the way his first name falls from her open mouth feels foreign, unfamiliar, not right. ‟ you want to talk about civil? i lost the l ── ” love of your life? best friend? she wills herself to stop. the frustration picks at her stomach, churning it with a sickness she couldn’t rid. ‟ i lost you. i haven’t heard from you in months. and this is the first thing you want to say to me? ” . . . ‟ you really think that lowly of me? that i wouldn’t put our past aside for the sake of this assignment? you’ve known me my whole life and it’s like you don’t know me at all. ”
