One day, Kevin will turn thirty.
He will sit down at a table at a fancy restaurant that Allison booked, enjoying the company of his friends and family as they celebrate him. He’ll open gifts, one by one, smirking or rolling his eyes or sometimes begrudgingly thanking the giver for their effort.
And then Jean will walk up to the table.
He will silently drop a tiny box onto it. Puzzled, Kevin will pick it up and remove the lid.
Then the air will freeze in his lungs.
Because he knows this key. He knows exactly what it belongs to. That miserable gift given to him by the Moriyamas. A key to the black, expensive monstrosity of a car that Riko once owned.
He’ll stare up at Jean with a betrayed, wounded look on his face – only to find Jean’s smug one returning his gaze. Then his heartbeat will gradually pick up with each word Jean says.
Wore that motherfucker to the ground, Jean will say.
Mechanics say everything is gone – brakes, shocks, steering.
250,000 miles – with this kind of car? Such a waste.
You’ll have to trade her in, he finishes. She’s nearly worthless now.
Again, there’s an almost maniacal glee to his confession. Because Jean is sick of this one last thing from Riko constantly hovering over Kevin’s head. He’s sick of Kevin paying for that ridiculously overpriced storage unit to store the stupid vehicle. And he relishes in the ability to slowly, systematically destroy something of Riko’s, just as he once tried to do to him.
And Kevin gets it then. He gets that over the last ten years, Jean had taken that spare storage key he gave him and driven it. He’d overworked it, driving it until it became a rusted bucket of bolts because he knew Kevin couldn’t. But he also knew Kevin couldn’t sell it without the Moriyamas seeing it as an insult. The only way to truly get rid of it was to wear it out. Wear it out until it couldn't be driven. Until Kevin had to trade it in.
So Jean had done so. Gladly.
Kevin can’t speak. He can’t even begin to put into words how much this means to him. To finally have this weight off his back. To finally be rid of this cursed, stained, and ill-begotten gift.
But Jean knows. He can see it in Kevin’s eyes.
And there's one thing Kevin knows for sure: he's going to have a hell of a time picking out Jean’s birthday gift next year.
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HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I made a video (its about seven minutes) about how I go about brainstorming, how I use pinterest, and using pure ref. haha I dont usually make videos. I'm not sure if i'll continue to make videos but maybe!
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Happy New Years PST gang! 2023 is upon us!
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So in case some of y'all aren't on tiktok
There's a Jewish dude on there, @Felix_Ciper, who is not only wear Nazi memorabilia but actually thinks he's the reincarnation of Hitler.
Add that mess to the 2023 bingo I guess
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"Birds do not often sing in Semptember, but one sand sweetly from some hidden bough while Gilbert and Anne repeated their deathless vows. Anne heard it and thrilled to it; Gilbert heard it, and wondered only that all the birds in the world had not burst into jubilant song..."
Anne's House of Dreams, L.M. Montgomery
yes, i got a library card at 4am just so that i could read anne and gilbert's wedding. and what.
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📱🦦Psst! Hey you! Do you like sea otters?
Do you have a phone? Do you want sea otters texted to your phone?
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Sea Otter Awareness Week is Sept. 24-30, and we’ll be filling your week with otterly pawesome stories and sea-nanigans! Join our sea otter texting program to dive deeper into the pawsitively furfect world of otters. We promise to send you otters whenever you ask. Just text us. 😉
Sea you soon! 🦦💙🦦
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