nctquiteshakespeare - Tumblr blog

[nctquiteshakespeare]

"I want to be sure. I know it's a big commitment." Glancing back down at one of the cats, she pressed her lips together, still going back and forth on the decision as she probably would for awhile. "I'd want it to be a good match, too. I am a homebody, it wouldn't get lonely." Duchess nodded, her nest felt far too empty, more than she was used to, and it certainly wasn't going to fix itself. "That is enough about me, though. And cats. How are you doing, doll? Any strange cravings yet?"

❛ a cat ?? ❜ rapunzel echoed, one of the creatures in question curled up in her lap, nuzzling its head against her slightly grown belly as her fingers wandered through its tricolored fur. glancing up at duchess, the blonde offered her a smile, lifting her shoulders into a shrug; ❛ i don't think it'd be a bad idea. it'd be a lovely companion for you — i'm sure plenty of these little ones would love a home. ❜ cobalts flickered back down to the one in her lap, its purrs making her heart warm, smiling as her gaze returned to duchess's. ❛ i don't think you're being spontaneous at all. you've got an empty nest, i don't blame you for wanting to be kept company. ❜

[nctquiteshakespeare]

This might have been a bad idea. This might have been a terrible idea. Duchess was not a naive woman, and she knew very well Thomas could have just been telling her what she wanted to hear... but she believed him. In her heart, she believed him. She knew that he was a good man, she had always known that. And while she didn't know how her kids would feel, or how this would turn out — whatever this was — she felt she owed it to herself to find out. She had spent so long wishing for closure, wishing to just see him again, touch him again. He had left a stronger impression on her than her first love, the father of her children, and now that life had presented her with the opportunity to catch up... how could anyone expect her to turn it down?

As he came into view, all of her worries subsided. The past didn't matter at the moment. All that mattered was the butterflies in her stomach as their eyes met, hearing his voice again. She wanted to step forward, to take his hands in hers and never let them go. The things this man did to her. "Oh, Thomas. You never fail to flatter me." She couldn't stop the smile that lit up her entire expression, a mixture of nerves and excitement she hadn't felt in so long battling each other in her mind. "You're quite easy on the eyes yourself."

Thomas O'Malley for @nctquiteshakespeare // a location where the kiddos can't find them;)

Duchess in Evermore? Fuck if that was some dumb luck or second chance at happiness.. Thomas wasn't sure, because on one hand she was here, with him! And on the other.. she was here... with him.. trapped. It was mind warping, confusing, frustrating and exhilarating all at once, to have her back in his life was the greatest gift he'd ever been given-- but to win her back? That was a challenge he would rise to without question. As Thomas walked along carrying a blanket under his arm and holding a large wicker basket full up with sandwiches, snacks, cakes, lemonade and wine he couldn't stop thinking of their last kiss. No, not the one over ten years ago, the passionate one they shared last week.

With that moment burning itself into his brain Thomas quickened his pace to meet Duchess. All the first date jitters, and doubts danced around their history in his mind. What if she doesn't show? What if she thinks this was a mistake? No no-- Thomas believed in them. He believed in their love and past being stronger than any... magic town in the middle of nowhere? Looking up Thomas swore time stilled and his heart stopped as he drank up the sight of Duchess in the summer sun, like no time had passed at all. "Duchess" he breathed, "You are .. breath taking."

[nctquiteshakespeare]

Watching the way the woman's lips curved upwards, Duchess could not help but return the smile. "There is nothing wrong with feeling like a teen," she offered, her own heartbeat picking up speed as she thought about Thomas. Thomas O'Malley, in Evermore, and still single, she could hardly believe it. "In fact, I would venture to say everyone would be much happier if we felt like teenagers more often."

closed: tiya mahajan & duchess bonfamille ( @nctquiteshakespeare ) location: duchess's house

"I'm still getting used to it, but I have to admit, the past few months living with Nick have been..." Tiya couldn't help the smile that grew on her lips at the thought of it, the warmth that crawled up her neck and into her cheeks. They'd been together for so long now but even Tiya couldn't ignore what an official step it had been moving in together. And he remembered. "I feel like such a teen." She admitted with a laugh, embarrassed at her reaction to the whole situation as a grown woman.

[nctquiteshakespeare]

She nodded, though she couldn't hide the disappointment in her expression. Not at him, his not knowing, more directed at... life, for making it seem like there were more important things than doing what made him happy, whatever that was, and herself for failing to notice that he was feeling so empty. "Well, there's nothing wrong with that," she assured him. He was young, he had all the time in the world to figure things out. She hadn't had it all at his age, she didn't now despite her best efforts to come across as put together. Perhaps she had tried too hard to come across as strong. It was a thought that weighed on her heavy, now. In the process of trying to avoid putting her stress and sadness on their little shoulders, had she forced her children to feel like they had to be perfect for her? Had she given them the impression that it wasn't okay to express their sadness, to follow their heart?

Bringing her glass to her own lips, she took a small sip, the faintest smile on her expression when she lowered it. "Don't be silly, baby. You shouldn't worry about me." Was she holding up okay? The question rattled her chest. She was holding up as okay as she could. Duchess was... struggling, more than she had in a long time if she was being honest. But she would be alright. She always was. "Though, I actually could use your help. I'm trying to move some furniture in my bedroom, and my back is not as young as it used to be." She was doing just fine with it, of course, but how else would she shift the conversation from everything to something much simpler?

when she asked for clarity that he had meant what he said, that he had given up pursuing art, his chest tightened. frowning at the food that has remained untouched, despite his gnawing hunger, toulouse stiffened. ❛ yeah, ❜ he mumbled, swirling the wine in his glass, keeping his eyes down and forcing his expression to flatten. he didn't know why it stung for his mother to have never noticed he had stopped taking art seriously; the moment his father was out of the picture, and toulouse stepped up to help with the housekeeping and watching after his younger siblings, he knew his days of dreaming about one day hosting his own gallery or dedicating his life to his art were long gone. yet here his mother was, still optimistic as ever in thinking that he, and what at one point was a passion, were worth something.

at her follow up question, toulouse couldn't help it, a sound of amusement coming from him as the glass once more was brought up to his lips. he smiled against its rim, shaking his head, dark locks sweeping back and forth across his forehead as he took a hefty sip. ❛ nothin' ma, not really. i don't do much of anything anymore. still tryna figure things out, you know ?? ❜ maybe he was being unfair, but with everything going on it felt... well, it felt pointless to be talking about him. looking up, ❛ i don't want to talk about me, ❜ toulouse informed her, as gently as he could, tongue slipping to swipe the remnants of wine on his lips; glass now empty. ❛ i want to talk about you... i mean, are you holding up okay ?? with everything going on i mean... mon dieu, ma, i'm worried about you.❜

[nctquiteshakespeare]

Where had she gone wrong? Had she put too much pressure on them? When she insisted her children go to their lessons, try harder in school, put their hearts into it, Duchess had only been trying to help them, to set them up for the most successful futures they could have. Had she gone about it wrong? Had she made them feel like they were less important than the work that they put in? That they couldn't come to her when they were hurting, that they couldn't give themselves grace? The thought was enough to make her heart feel like it was splitting in two. Berlioz, Toulouse and Marie were the most important things in the world to her, she would lay her life on the line for them, without half a second of thought. After all these years they were the only things that she had gotten right. How could she be so... neglectful, to make them feel any other way?

She didn't want to let him go, holding him so tightly she worried she would snap his back. It had been so long since she had been able to hold him like this, too long, and in the moment she realized she shouldn't have let so much time pass. She was only trying to respect his boundaries, but she should have seen that he needed this. To feel safe. To feel loved. Everyone needed that. After a moment she began to run soothing circles on his back, thinking about all the times she had done it when they would come down with a cold, when they would fall and get a boo-boo. "It's alright," she promised softly, forcing herself to pull away just enough to make eye contact with him. "It is okay if the only thing you do today is breathe, Berlioz. Please remember that. There is always tomorrow." Because she couldn't accept anything else being the truth.

~

As his mother stepped forward Berlioz made no effort to move. When she place her gentle hands on his face his eyes avoided hers. He couldn't stop the tears falling from his eyes like waterfall even if he had tried. He felt so worthless and defeated, pathetic even. Nothing mattered and as hard as Duchess would try to convince her son of that it was a disadvantaged, uphill battle she wouldn't win. Her normally comforting soft tone did nothing to ease him. Yet, her sternness may have been what made his eyes glance back in the direction of hers. She looked so sad and that only made Berlioz feel guilty. Bloodshot eyes stared into hers as he listened to her speak. He knew his mother loved him and he loved her. He hated he was causing her pain because of his own. Maybe he shouldn't have unloaded on her, but he had bottled it up so long that he had just snapped.

When she dropped her hands to wrap her arms around him Berlioz just stood there for a brief moment before wrapping his arms around her. Full force his sobs came one after one. He hated crying. He hated it so much, and he especially hated doing it in front of other people. He couldn't form words and stayed hugging his mother. He closed his eyes tight and took a deep, shaky breath in some attempt to calm his pounding heart and ease the feeling like he couldn't breathe any air. His entire body was in a frenzy. His his mind raced a million miles a minute and every inch of his skin felt like it was crawling. His chest felt tight and he was very shaky. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm not trying to upset you." He couldn't find it in him to pull away from her, grasping at the comfort she offered. Sometimes all a person needed was a hug from their mother. "I-I love you too, mama." He slowly opened his eyes and blinked the tears that were still coming but had began to slow. "I just feel so lost."

[nctquiteshakespeare]

how do you feel knowing you failed your children as their mother?

"I feel... very sorry, for the ways that I came up short."

[nctquiteshakespeare]

Reese Witherspoon for Draper James Spring 2024.

[nctquiteshakespeare]

She followed him without hesitation into his office — his office. How long had he lived here? How many times had they gone to the same stores, to the park on the very same day? How many times had their paths unknowingly been minutes, maybe even seconds away from crossing? It was a gut-wrenching thought, and as she settled into the seat she didn't take her eyes off of him, still hardly believing he was here, Thomas O'Malley was here. He may as well be reading her mind, the way he was saying everything she wanted to hear. Was she that transparent? She felt foolish for believing him, but this town... she hadn't chose to leave either, she hadn't left her mother behind by her own choice. Maybe she was gullible, maybe she was just too wishful, but the way that he was speaking, the pain in his voice she knew all too well... she couldn't allow herself to believe for half a second that he was lying. She knew him, or she thought she had known him, so long ago now. He wouldn't lie to her.

Duchess wasn't necessarily a spontaneous person, but sitting there, staring at him, hearing his voice after all of this time, she swore she could feel butterflies in her stomach. I still do. Her heart leapt into her throat, stopping any words she could think to offer him from coming out, any promise that she still felt the same. That she'd never so much as looked at another man after him. That she had waited, hopelessly, every single day for him to come home to her. There was a whirlwind of emotions surrounding the blonde, and she wasn't sure which one to land on. If this was but a dream, if she was destined to open her eyes in a handful of minutes, never to see him again, she wouldn't allow herself to wake with regret. Without a word, Duchess stood up, the air feeling like jello as she made her way to where he stood, not allowing herself time to backout before she was on her tiptoes, pulling him into a kiss.

Thomas O'Malley continued from here for @nctquiteshakespeare

Thomas took a shuddering breath as the reality set in, reminding him that wasn't just some sick old twisted game. This wasn't just a realistic dream like the dozens he'd had in the past, he wouldn't open his eyes and wake up alone-- swearing he could smell Duchess' enchanting perfume linger on his sheets. The bustle and clatter of the diner anchored him to the present and Thomas was forced to accept the complicated truth that although all he ever wanted was to see Duchess again... she was now trapped here too... right? "Not--out here." he croaked out, his throat suddenly feeling dry and itchy. Thomas jerked his chin towards his office door. "Its a small town Duchess.. they don't need to know our past."

Holding the door open for her, Thomas entered the small office mostly used for storing napkins, pens and hoarding empty coffee cups. He cleared his throat as he drew the string on the blinds, letting some light in. Thomas gestured to the empty seats across from his desk as he chose to lean against the window. It was better to put some distance between them, especially when he wanted to hold her-- and she probably wanted to smack him. "Crap.. well I don't even know where to start.." he sighed, unable to meet her gaze, knowing as soon as Thomas laid eyes on Duchess' beautiful blue ones he'd be helpless. "I uh first of all want to tell you I never planned on leaving baby, you gotta' know that before anything else. You.. those crazy kids.. geez, you became my whole world." Thomas sniffled. "Somethin' took me-- and I know you're gonna' think i'm crazy, but Duchess I was coming home to you. I .. I wanted us to be a family... I was ready. Then I woke up in this damned place and I. got stuck.." he confessed, his eyes filling with tears. "I just wanted to go home to you, Duchess. I still do."

[nctquiteshakespeare]

— ᴅᴜᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ ꜰᴛ. ᴛʜᴏᴍᴀꜱ.

ʷᵒʳᵈˢ , ʰᵒʷ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ , ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵗᵒᵒ ˡᵃᵗᵉ. ⁱ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃᶜᵏˢ , ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˡᵒᶜᵏᵉᵗ; ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵍⁱʳˡˢ , ʰᵒᵖᵉᶠᵘˡ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷⁱˡˡ ʷᵃⁱᵗ .

[nctquiteshakespeare]

[nctquiteshakespeare]

You're not the fuck up here. She winced at his harsh choice of words, but for once was less bothered by the swearing than the meaning behind it, not having to bite her tongue to avoid chastising him. It didn't matter to her how many times he messed up or how badly, she would never see him any differently. She wasn't looking at him with pity, despite the tears that were shining in her own eyes. It was a love that ran deeper than she could explain, and a pain that she had never felt before. To know that if things had gone slightly different, he wouldn't be before her now, explaining himself. To know that he hurt so badly he'd done anything he could to fill a hole she wasn't aware was there. A small, choked sob escaped her before she could stop it, eyes squeezing shut, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She didn't want him to see it, even if he knew that she was hurting. It wasn't about her.

"Berlioz," she started, her voice hardly above a whisper. There was so much she wanted to say, but how could she put any of it into words? How could she convince him that he shouldn't give up, and how could she say he shouldn't feel like that? She had tried to give him everything, but it was clear the two of them had... clashing outlooks on life, to put it gently. She had tried to be the best mother she could but there was a role she simply couldn't fill, and it wasn't fair. Her husband had every right to leave her, to stop loving her. It had hurt, but she did not blame him for the choice he made when it came to their relationship. She didn't need him, the way he clearly hadn't needed her. But she would never forgive him for leaving their children behind. They deserved better. They deserved everything.

Stepping forward, she hesitated briefly, he'd only just said he wanted to be left alone. But out there somewhere it was possible there was another lifetime, another universe, where she had lost every chance to hold her son. So for herself and that mourning version, she closed the distance to take his head in her hands, cradling his face as she desperately wiped at the tears falling from his eyes. "Baby, look at me," she spoke, her voce soft but stern. She tried so hard to not make him or his siblings feel like she still saw them as little kids rather than their own respected individuals, but it didn't matter how old they got, they were always going to be her babies. "I care about you. From your very first breath I have loved you more than I could ever put into words. You are what matters. I cannot tell you the point to life, I cannot take that guilt or the pain from your shoulders, though I desperately wish I could..." Her voice wavering slightly, Duchess dropped her hands from his face to pull him into a tight hug. Whether he wanted the affection or not, she had a feeling he needed it. "I know I'm just your mother, Berlioz, but I can promise you that I am here. I am on your team. You will always have someone in your corner for as long as I live."

~

There was a silent heartbreak unfolding inside of Berlioz as his mother spoke. He saw the slip in her composure, even if it was brief he still saw it. That alone was enough to shatter him. Hearing how she spoke of the overdose as an incident stung. No one knew what to call it anymore. Everyone seemed to have their own word for it. Incident, accident, etc... It didn't matter. Berlioz himself barely called it what it was. Hearing her apologize was probably the worst of it all though. Hearing what he had wanted to for so long didn't lift any of the pain or sorrow he held. It only made it worse. A single tear fell from his eye but he couldn't find it in him to look away from her. He wanted nothing more than to run the short distance between them and hug his mother tightly. His feet didn't move though. He'd gone silent for too long and finally noticed his coffee finished brewing. He turned, not able to face her any longer to grab cream and sugar.

"Why are you sorry? You're not the fuck up here." His sadness was turning sour, bitter even, and into anger. His hands were a bit shaky, though he was unsure if it was the anxiety or the drugs causing it. "I don't want pity. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I just want--" What did he want? Now that Berlioz had the opportunity to scream out what it was he really wanted, what was it? He'd felt so bitter for so long that he couldn't pinpoint what the one thing it was that he actually wanted. "I just want people to leave me the fuck alone. People seem to care so much suddenly because I could have died. Yet, after their guilt wears off and they get their apologies out it's like nothing. Radio silence. As usual. Ask my sister if she's spoken to me since the overdose. Ask the golden boy how long it's been since before it happened that we even spoke." He finishes making his coffee but leaves it to sit on the counter. Not because it was too hot, but because he felt like he couldn't even stomach anything at the moment.

He lets out a shaky breath, fearing the expression on her face so he doesn't look at her. "It's a waste of my energy being trying to keep people in my life anyways. I might as well just give up." Alice pops into his head for a moment and he frowns. He hadn't heard from her in a while and to him that was a response. An answer in the form of silence. Silence can speak louder than words, or whatever. He wipes his eyes as a few more stray tears had found their way onto his cheeks. He hated crying. Especially in front of his mother. "I just need everyone to understand that they won't ever understand anything." His heart was pounding and the high he felt wasn't even enjoyable. He finally turns to look at her again. "I love you dearly, mother, but you're wasting your time. Just look at me. Why would anyone waste their efforts on me? Nothing's ever going to change. My father's never going to come back and explain why he left. I'm never going to feel this weight get lifted off my shoulders. You're never going to get the answers you want and my siblings aren't going to give me the time of day any time soon. So why does anything matter? What's the point of even trying anymore?" His voice cracks at the end and the tears he fought so hard to hold back came out full force. "I just feel so angry and sad all the time and half of the time I don't even know why. I just...I just wish I didn't feel so guilty about it. I-I know I fuck up a lot but that doesn't mean I don't care about people. I just want them to care about me too."

[nctquiteshakespeare]

LOCATION: crown cat café FOR: @wildcstwinter (rapunzel)

Warily watching the animal brush against her leg, Duchess made no move to pet it. She didn't come here often, too worried about finding fur in her muffin, but she'd been thinking... "Do you think I should get a cat?" Attention turned to Rapunzel, she barely gave her time to answer before offering her reasoning. "I don't know if I'm a pet person, but I think I miss having something to take care of, you know? It feels so lonely at home. And I love my plants, but they're not... they're not the same. Am I being too spontaneous?"

[nctquiteshakespeare]

She shook her head, it was true that she may be biased but she truly and wholly believed that he was special. Surely she wasn't the only one to see it. All three of them had natural talent she believed and would stand by that, but she poured so much time and money into any passions they may have that she hoped to give them a head start in life, to put them on a path that they'd have to work for... but not as hard as others. She didn't just believe it because she loved him. She believed it because it was true and logical... and because she loved him.

"You did?" Duchess' smile faltered. She hadn't been aware. How much had she failed to be aware of? She had been spending more time with her own mother back home, trying to let her kids spread their wings on their own, to not be as overbearing as she knew she could be — but how much had she missed in the process? And what kind of mother did that make her? One of her sons overdosed when she didn't even realize he had a problem, her other had given up on what she thought was his passion, and here she was, going on about it, gushing over it. With an ache in her sternum, she let the corners of her lips tug upwards again, a smile that no longer met her eyes. She felt horrible for having to ask, for not knowing, not having the faintest clue. "What kind of hobbies are you... pursuing now?"

toulouse set down the food dish he was holding, drumming his fingers on the elongated neck of his wine glass, tongue swiping along his lower lip as he felt the tips of his ears go scarlet. he could feel his mom's eyes on him, watching him, and a flash of panic lit up his eyes as he feared that maybe she was noticing things he thought he was concealing. deep set eyebags, the tremor in his hands, the way he was trying not to down the entire glass in one gulp just to hope for her to offer him another. toulouse knew things had been hard on the woman lately, between everything that had happened with o'malley disappearing, having three kids with struggles she couldn't fix like the ones they had when they were kids. scraped knees were easier to tend to then overdoses.

❛ thank you, ❜ he said softly, his voice far more somber than he had intended it to sound, disappointment in himself heavy on the back of his tongue as it was struggling to decide if it wanted to voice itself or sink back down into the pit of his stomach. his appetite seemed to vanish, despite how incredible the food looked and smelt, and he set down the bowl to mindlessly stir it. ❛ you have to say that though, you're my mom, ❜ he tried to joke, but it fell flat, sipping from the wine glass once more and grateful for the dry taste that distracted his thoughts for a moment. clearing his throat, the man tried to get it together, looking back up at duchess with a softer, more apologetic expression. ❛ — but, i've kinda given up on the whole art thing. i did a long time ago. i doubt anything i make is worth putting in any kind of gallery. ❜

[nctquiteshakespeare]

Was she being played for a fool? She could be, and Duchess was well aware it was a possibility, but it didn't stop her heart from swelling when he called her his. His. After all of this time, his. And she was, wasn't she? As sad as it was, as pathetic, she'd never moved on. She'd never allowed herself to look at another man the same. Thomas leaving had hurt her more than her own husband asking for a divorce. He had been the one to bring a sparkle to her eyes again after she felt the most unlovable, the one to make her feel more beautiful than she had ever felt, to make her feel worthy... then he'd disappeared, like it had meant absolutely nothing to him.

She was the last person to fight, she would throw punches for her kids if that was what it come to, but never herself. Despite what she'd said, Duchess knew that every part of her only wanted to pull him into an embrace, to thank her lucky stars he was still in one piece. There were times she had wondered. But she didn't step forward, staring at him instead, practically unblinking, appreciating the shape of his jaw, the color of his eyes, every line in his face in case she were to never see him again. Even if she had wanted to walk away she couldn't... and she didn't. She never had. "I'm listening," she spoke after a short pause, her voice hardly above a whisper.

He must be dead right, cause there's no way on this gods forsaken planet that some magical, ethereal force would trap him in a town, in the middle of nowhere to torture him for ten years-- and then to rub salt on the wound drop in Duchess of all people. He had to be dead, this had to be hell... because if it wasnt? How the fuck was he gonna' get her out of here? Thomas' brain was working in overdrive, trying to process whatever the fuck was happening in front of him. By some insane stroke of luck his legs hadn't given up on him yet, but he was so close to sinking to knees and begging Duchess for forgiveness. "Duchess" he breathed, her name caught on his lips as they trembled. "My Duchess."

A dry laugh escaped him as he set down the coffee cup and took a reluctant step forward, just because she had been refined when he knew her, didn't mean she wouldn't swing for him as he rightly deserved it. "You could do both if you need too, but I would just love to hold you in my arms again." He was vaguely aware they were standing in the middle of the diner, and as much as Thomas loved dinner & a show-- he'd much rather be having this moment in private. "I have so much to tell you--so much to explain. Or at least try to." He began with a shaky breath, so far away from the charming confident man, mask he usually wore, so unsure about what would happen if he tried to push his luck. For years he dreamt and thought of what he would say if he ever saw her again, how he would tell her everything he was once too afraid to say. But Duchess could end him here in front of everyone, and wouldn't he deserve it. "I know you must hate me and god knows I don't deserve a second of your time... but please Duchess I beg you, let me explain."

[nctquiteshakespeare]

She held her own glass before her, not taking a sip as she stared at him, lost in her thoughts and memories. People always told her that time flied by, that they'd be taller than her before she knew it. And she'd made the best of it, the best she could, though sometimes it may have seemed lackluster or boring to them; she had taught them everything she could think to, she'd taken them traveling, she'd taken pictures, she'd taken videos. But she'd also taken it for granted, how quickly the sand fell through the hourglass. Before she knew it, she was here, in her forties, and the beautiful woman that raised her was now frail, and her little people were now big people that were older than she was when she became a mother herself.

Shaking herself out of the daze, she brought the glass to her lips, letting the wine coat her tongue, savoring the flavor as it seeped over her tastebuds before giving him her full attention again, the version of him that wasn't an energetic baby toddling about but her grown baby drinking with her in her kitchen. "Toulouse, you are so talented," she told him, assuming he was doubting his abilities when he didn't seem very excited over her suggestion. "Much more than you give yourself credit for. You could do anything you put your mind to."

once the food was set in front of him, it was hard for toulouse not to regress back into his childhood where his mother's cooking seemed to be the cure to all the world's ailments. the scent of the food infiltrated his nose, soothing him almost immediately, his shoulders sinking. tentatively picking up the silverware he had been given in one hand and the bowl with the other, the eldest bonfamille stirred around the contents of the dish. he found himself pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth upon hearing the sound of the cork popping free from the neck of the wine bottle, accompanied by the agonizing sound of it filling one glass, and then a second.

toulouse's stomach lurched at the idea of a drink, too eager for the alcohol despite how badly his inner child just wanted to eat his mother's cooking and not think about the thirst that never seemed to be quenched. he heard his mother speaking, something about the museum and about art shows, but it was going in one ear and out the other. ❛ that's nice, mom,❜ he replied, to show he was listening even though he wasn't. not really, it was hard to focus with the knowledge of the wine now sitting expectantly on the counter. looking up, he offered duchess a tired smile; ❛ i'll uh... i'll think about it. ❜ he wouldn't. toulouse had given up taking art seriously years ago, and the thought of participating in something like that had him picking up the wine glass to take a sip before he had even tried the food.

[nctquiteshakespeare]

"Oh, I do, I do," she nodded, it was a rewarding job. She loved helping the younger generation find their pipes, finding herself to be a better teacher than a singer. All of her students had such different personalities, too, and she was proud to see how quickly they could pick up her notes and hone in on their talents. And to make money playing piano and mothering? It was a dream come true. But...

"Some of the parents," she said after a moment, letting a soft sigh float through her lips. Entitled wasn't a strong enough word. "I hope that I never acted like them. Marie, let me tell you now that I am so very sorry if I did. I only ever wanted what was best for you and your brothers."

Marie smiled at her mother. She was, well, her mother. The funniest thing about social media was the only way to really make it far was by not being herself. At least not fully. Giving a glimpse into the good but if she entertained the bad too much and destroyed that image of perfection, she would lose it all. Sometimes she wondered if that would be such a bad thing. But she didn't really know how to be anything else than...pretty. As shallow as it was, that was the truth.

"Thanks," she said even though she knew she couldn't even begin to explain all of that to her mother of all people. Such was life. "What has been bugging you about your job? I thought you liked it all."

[nctquiteshakespeare]

"I will let you know if he signs up," she promised, always ready to have more cheerleaders in her kids' corners. She could rally up the whole town to root for them and it simply wouldn't be enough. When she looked at all three of them, she saw the stars in their eyes that they couldn't... even if she was unaware how quickly they seemed to be fading out. "Of course you may," Duchess smiled at him, "though if it's the abstract painting over there... I am sorry, I'm not quite sure I get it."

"Mhm, I think he'd be the perfect candidate." There would be plenty of good competition too, Evermore seemed to be brimming with artists of all varying types. He knew he'd have to bring Tiya along once the charity event began. "I hope he does, I'd love to see it." He couldn't help but to be distracted as his hand fumbled around a velvet box inside his pocket. He could hardly wait any longer as he paused in the middle of their stroll to ask a question. "Duchess, may I get your opinion on something?"