oliver-pembrooke - Tumblr blog

[oliver-pembrooke]

She gave the younger girl a nod in agreement with a small laugh, rubbing her arms in effect though there was no active breeze. Really, she hadn’t minded that Clem was the first to greet her. She’d been around his sisters long enough to decide that she liked them, the attitude and audacity programmed into Capitol children spoiling her idea of the youth for a while. The Pembrooke girls seemed to be a welcome change. “It is,” said Mouse. “But I love the snow. I used to make snow angels all the time.” She excluded her memories of working at the lumber mills, before their wealth, when most lower class children in Seven were expected to earn their keep as little stewards for the lumberjacks. It was always freezing in those places. She only ever started making snow angels after her Games, actually. When she had all the time in the world.

Her smile brightened upon seeing Ollie, finding herself chuckling softly when he shooed his little sister. She stepped over the threshold and began to shrug off her coat. “How gentlemanly,” she commented, a hint of jest in her tone. “Thank you. I hope it was a good time to stop by.”

Ollie cut a look over at Clem, finding that she was making kissy faces as she walked around the corner and into the dining room. He made a face at her as he caught Mouse’s coat and shook the snow off of it before he hung it up on the rack, closing the door behind them so the breeze wouldn’t get in and the heat wouldn’t escape. He looked over his shoulder at her and chuckled.

“I try my hardest,” he said. “You know, so my Mom doesn’t absolutely murder me in the meantime.”

He turned to face her when she spoke again and he gave a dramatic sigh as he rolled his eyes toward the heavens and exclaimed, “Oh, absolutely not. you have the word timing in the world, how dare-- no you’re fine.” It was a quick transition as he gave her a hug around the shoulders and squeezed her. “Thanks for coming over. I needed the company.”

[oliver-pembrooke]

mouseology‌:

The snow had begun to fall, a blizzard surely on the heels of their secluded Village, and before the weather decided to seek havoc upon them Minerva wanted to pay a visit to Ollie. It was strange how he’d lingered in her mind since their previous conversation. That’d never occurred with anyone else, at least not in such a way that summoned butterflies in her stomach and quickened her heart beat. It was intimidating, to be honest. But it felt nice. It wasn’t something she was keen to ignore.

As to not ambush him, she’d called in advance while Rune was napping, being sure she was permitted to swing by before donning her coat and beginning the small trek to his house. The walk was pitifully short, the unwelcoming wind only prompting her to hurry along, and within half an hour she’d arrived at the Pembrooke’s front door. 

“Afternoon,” she greeted once her brief knocking had alerted someone inside, a smile that enveloped her whole disposition giving her a glow. “Lovely weather we’re having.” added Mouse, her eyes drawn to the middle of her red face. ( @oliver-pembrooke )

When Ollie had gotten the phone call from Mouse, he was elated. Of course, that meant that he had to try to dodge the stares and questions of his family, but he could endure it for a little while. His birthday was a little over two weeks away and that meant that things could start getting going. He could ask her out on a date if he wanted to without it being illegal or weird. That was the exciting part about that.

So he waited downstairs, his eyes nearly focused on the window instead of on the book in his lap while the fire crackled in the living room. He could hear his parents on the other end of the house talking, but the level they were talking on was too low for him to make out what they were saying. So when he heard the knock on the front door, he was a little peeved that he hadn’t been paying more attention. He tried to get up quicker, but Clem was already there before he was.

He heard Mouse’s voice and he immediately bolted behind his sister.

“It’s too cold,” Clem whined with a small giggle before Ollie came up behind his little sister and smiled at Mouse. 

“Hey, come on in,” he said as he held the door open a little more and shooed Clem away from the door so he could take care of it. As soon as Mouse walked in, he closed the door behind her. “I can take your coat for you.”

[oliver-pembrooke]

Ollie’s question was sad, but reasonable.  A sigh passed Oakley’s lips and she nodded.  “I’d be lying to you if I said I wasn’t scared.  I’ve not slept the night before the reaping since you turned twelve and it won’t stop until Summer ages out.”  She was a mother and worrying about her children was just part of the deal.  Especially since her children were registered in Eleven.  She couldn’t be with them.

Ollie sighed and nodded his head. It wasn’t comforting, but in a weird way, he understood it. At least he understood the worry that came from her. When or if he ever had kids, he’d feel the same way. He was quiet for a long moment, leaning his head against the banister as his heart began to race a little. He took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“Yeah, I guess,” Ollie said as he started to play with the cuticles of his fingernails. “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just... the closer it gets, the more scared I get and with all of this happening... I don’t want to feel like I’m in the Hunger Games before I’m even in them.”

[oliver-pembrooke]

Birch led his son through the front door. He tried to take as much of his son’s weight so he could just focus on moving each foot forward. Despite his prosthetic, his arms were strong from when he was young and he’d ensured he kept them strong, working with his horses, in the garden, and by helping around the Village. Birch had to make sure he was strong to support not just Oakley, but Ollie and the rest of his kids if they needed anything like this from him. 

Hearing his son’s voice, his shoulders fell a fraction. When he had Ollie sitting on the couch, Birch sat next to him. “Life doesn’t deal everyone a fair hand, son. All you can do is make the best of it.” 

He looked down at his prosthetic and watched Summer place a glass of water on the coffee table for her brother. She looked at Birch and he gave her a grateful look. “If you want to play later Ollie, I’ll be in the backyard,” Summer said, before running out the back door. 

“You should talk to your mother about this,” Birch started, pulling his prosthetic out of its socket. He placed it on the table and pursed his lip a little. “The couple of years after I lost my forearm, I had the same thoughts. Especially during my Games I had those thoughts. But now, it’s harder for me to fully hate this thing. Your mom though, she’s living a good life and she still has her bad days. She’d know how to say what I’m trying to better.”

Ollie knew that he had trouble keeping his emotions in check after a seizure. Usually, it threw him off kilter and it made a lot of things surge up within him that he couldn’t often control. He was getting mad at the fact that this was his life, that there was no escaping his condition even with medication. He was always going to be like this unless he tried to make his life as stress-free as he could make it. In this world, however, that was a pipe dream and he knew that. Even through his good days, when he was pranking and having fun with his sisters and going to visit his friends, there was still the inkling in the back of his mind that things could go wrong at any moment.

His father’s words weren’t comforting, because they were the same ones he had heard all of his life. Ollie kept quiet, plopping down on the sofa when Summer brought him some water. He looked at her, eyes half lidded and exhausted and he nodded at his little sister.

“Thanks, Summer,” Ollie said gently as she went out to play.

Ollie sat quietly on the sofa, not bothering to reach for the water. All he wanted to do was rest since his head was hurting and his eyes felt like they could explode. But then his father detached his arm and started talking. It would’ve been okay any other day, but Ollie was angry at the cards life had dealt him and them the looming final Reaping was on his mind. So he hadn’t meant to snap so hard, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Yeah, sure, Dad,” Ollie said, his voice raising as he looked up with a fire in his eyes along with his exhaustion. “You lose an arm, you get a new one. Mom can’t walk, so she gets new legs. I’ll just order a new brain the next time I go into the Capitol!” 

[oliver-pembrooke]

She could understand Oliver’s fears.  They were the same sort of fears Oakley had when she first got pregnant with him.  What if they wanted to craft a legacy?  It was foolish.  Districts Eight and Eleven weren’t known for that.

“That’s why your father and I keep trying to keep you kids out of the spotlight.  We keep hoping the Capitol will forget about you so they won’t have any desire to see you inside the arena.”

Ollie frowned. He wasn’t sure if that was much more comforting to the situation. Either be completely forgettable to keep safe, or to fade into obscurity to where no one cared about him at all. Perhaps that was part of the reason that he was so hesitant to say anything to Mouse in the first place. Not only was she nearly two years older than him, but there was also the thought that as soon as he hitched himself to her, he would become a little bit more noticeable. That was probably the paranoia of it all talking to him, which made him think he needed to hold off on saying anything to her until after his last Reaping in August.

“Are you scared?” Ollie asked her, locking eyes with his mother. “...you know, of my last Reaping? Or are you confident?”

[oliver-pembrooke]

He let out a breath, patting Ollie’s leg with his hand. His son was going to be okay today. But, three seizures in the past couple of days? Birch wasn’t sure if this was something that they needed to go to the doctor for. Was it really just stress or indicative of something else? A medication change, a reevaluation, some sort of other medical intervention, or even therapy? There were so many questions. He wished Oakley was around, he could at least count on her to have a better course of action. 

“That’s good, Ollie.” The sun was bright out here and he hoped that his son could walk inside with him. “We should head in. Summer’s getting you some water and then you should be okay. We can talk more inside.” 

Birch moved to his feet, holding his prosthetic out for Ollie to take. He didn’t want to rush Ollie and he was perfectly okay standing here like this until his son was ready. “Take your time, bud.”

Ollie wasn’t sure if he wanted to move yet, but as soon as he started to realize he was still on his front porch, it became all the more imperative that he got inside. No need for prying eyes to his situation. He swallowed the lump in his dry throat and reached for his father’s extended hand. As he gripped it, he took notice of its hard exterior as his prosthetic and used it to heave himself to sit up, and then get his shaking legs underneath him. 

His head was still swimming and he felt tired, and with his legs trembling, he had to hold onto his Dad’s arm to keep his balance as his breathing came out a little more heavy than normal. It felt like he just ran a marathon after not training for it. His heart was still racing and he felt tears burning behind his eyes.

“I hate this,” Ollie said, his voice cracking as he gave a soft sniffle. “I hate this.”

[oliver-pembrooke]

Oakley nodded in understanding.  She got why her son would be worried and thinking about the reaping.  This was a lot to deal with.  “It’s going to be alright, Ollie,” she tried to reassure him, reaching out to hold his hand.  “I know things are scary right now but you’ve got to have faith that things will be okay.  It’s all going to work out eventually.”

She didn’t know how else to soothe her son’s fears.  “You’ve got one more reaping, but the odds are in your favor, sweetie.  You are one of the few kids in Eleven’s bowl who hasn’t had to take the tessare.”

Ollie felt the ghost of his mother’s fingers against his hand, to which he instinctively turned it over so he could grip a hold of it. He looked up at her, blue eyes shining softly at her as he gave her a smile and nod. She was always the realistic optimist. She was positive when she was sure it would end that way. His father, on the other hand, believed in optimism no matter where it came from, which was the thing that Ollie had garnered from him as he grew up. He had no choice. Otherwise, he’d be in constant seizures.

“...but what if odds aren’t what is stacked against me?” he asked her quietly, careful not to speak too loud, his eyes flicking back up and morphed into worry. “What if it’s just... they want me there?”

[oliver-pembrooke]

Birch nodded glumly at his son’s response, but he couldn’t make Ollie move any faster. Summer tiptoed out of the front door and he locked eyes with his daughter. Summer knew that her big brother suffered from seizures and she was a trooper whenever he needed anything or she was the one around when he had one. “Do you want to pour him a glass of water?” he asked Summer and she nodded running off to the kitchen. 

He waited for Ollie to bring himself up to sitting and was able to keep his eyes open for longer than a few moments. “Can you tell me your name, where you are, the date, and what happened Ollie?” he asked, leaning forward and putting a hand on his son’s leg. 

It was something the doctors had taught him when Ollie was beginning to communicate and having the occasional seizure. If Ollie could tell him these things then he was going to be okay and didn’t need to see a doctor. If he couldn’t or it took a little while, they had to go get him reassessed. He gave his son a reassuring smile.

Ollie didn’t want to move yet, as his head was pounding so hard he could feel it knocking on the back of his eyeballs. He took deep breaths to try and get himself back to where he could move without wanting to fall back over. Ollie didn’t react to anything until he could feel his father’s presence getting closer, his hand on his leg. The questions were standard, but Ollie took it seriously anyway. He knew why it was done.

“Oliver,” Ollie said, taking a deep breath, keeping his hand over his eyes so the sunlight wouldn’t burn through his growing headache. “I’m...” He pulled his hand away for a second to look at his Dad, then glanced over at the front door on the other side. “...home.” 

He closed his eyes again but didn’t cover his eyes that time as he answered the other questions. “It’s... um... October... twenty-something,” he said. He didn’t pay attention to the date on a normal day. “I had... I had an, um, seizure.”

[oliver-pembrooke]

When Oliver spoke, Oakley nodded.  She did know how it was and she understood that it could be exhausting and stressful on her children.  That, more than anything else, was why she wanted to check in and make sure he was alright.

“I do.  With everything going on it’s been very exhausting,” Oakley agreed.  “But you know I worry about you and your sisters.  I just want to make sure you know you can talk to me about everything that’s been going on.”

Ollie bubbled air in his cheeks before letting them out in a dramatic sigh and closed his eyes. His parents could be overbearing sometimes, but not in a way that really made a difference. He understood their paranoia about things and their concern, because that was what the Capitol made of them. Ollie learned to understand that and he wasn’t going to pin all of his frustrations on his parents. Except he knew that the two of them were growing worried about him and if he was being honest with himself, he was scared, too. 

“I know, Mom,” Ollie said with a nod of his head as he turned more so his back was against the banister so he could look at her more. “It’s just... a little scary right now. It’s a lot to take in. It’s only making me think more about the Reaping, too, I guess.”

[oliver-pembrooke]

Birch should have been used to this by now. He had watched his son have seizures for almost his entire life. Sometimes it would be months between episodes and sometimes it would be hours. It seemed that the time right now made it easier for Ollie to get stressed. And apparently his enthusiasm hadn’t helped that. 

He watched the second hand on his watch tick by, looking up every five seconds to measure how severe Ollie was reacting to the seizure. It didn’t last a full minute, but it felt like it had been thirty minutes. 

Locking eyes with his son, he saw the life return and his shoulders relaxed. It usually took a little bit of time for Ollie to reorient himself, but it didn’t stop Birch from asking, “Anything hurt? Do you feel alright?” 

It took Ollie several long moments before he felt feeling return to his hands, but the second it did, his head started to throb with a piercing headache. He moaned softly, closing his eyes again as he laid there, trying to catch his breath and stop himself from feeling worse. His body had enough and he could feel it. The sooner things could start getting back to normal, the better. But when would it ever be normal? After his final Reaping was over? After Mouse had their first dinner with him and his family? When?

“My head,” he moaned pitifully. 

He couldn’t talk much other than that. He didn’t feel well and wanted to go to sleep. His body was messed up and he felt exhausted. Forty-five seconds of a seizure and it felt like he could sleep for forty-five years. Ollie slid his hand over his eyes so he could block out the sunlight, taking deep, shaky breaths to keep his head from splitting wide open. 

[oliver-pembrooke]

“Good! I just don’t want her to feel unwelcome in our house, you know? She deserves to have somewhere that makes her feel safe. So, good first impression right?” Birch said, giving his son a squeeze on the shoulder. He knew his enthusiasm could be grating, but there wasn’t a lot to be enthusiastic about here sometimes. 

Birch dropped his prosthetic from Ollie’s shoulder and stood as his son moved to go back inside. He was sure that Summer would be coming down with her project and him and Ollie could help her for a little bit together. Family time would be nice for everyone. 

He felt Ollie’s hand on his shoulder and heard his son’s voice begin to shake. His brain switched into parent mode and seizure help mode–something he was too good at, at this point. Seeing Ollie’s knees buckle a little, Birch grabbed his son under his arms and lowered him slowly to the middle of the porch, away from the railings and wall. He turned him onto his side and quickly slid his jacket off of his body and tucked it under his son’s head. 

Birch slid to the ground, placing his back against the wall. He quickly glanced at his watch and began to time the seizure. It was all he could do and it was the worst seeing his child have to go through something so hard all on his own. Did he cause this? Was his enthusiasm a key to his son’s stress? Birch took a deep breath and continued to move his eyes from his watch to his son. 

Ollie was stupid enough to believe that what he was feeling, what he was used to feeling, wasn’t actually it. He had been overwhelmed with fear of everything happening and of course, the nervousness around getting Mouse around his family was also enough to make him stressed. Then, there was the whole paranoia of the rebels and then the Games coming up. He had one final Reaping. All of this coming together made him think of all of the bad things he had yet to address. He had spent most of his life trying to be care free and not think of the bad things, until the bad things were relentless. 

Not that he’d actually admit any of that to anybody else. Ollie knew his body and knew what his seizures felt like when they came on, but after having three in two days, he wanted so desperately to believe that he wouldn’t have another one. That was leveling out.

Until it happened, and as his father grabbed a hold of him and got him to the center of the porch, Ollie felt a surge of panic in his chest right before the world blackened around him. He didn’t want to have it in the front porch, but he had no other option. They weren’t able to move him lest he injure himself. So Ollie ended up seizing on the front porch of the house he grew up in, his head jerking and hitting the top of his father’s coat that he slid underneath his head. Every other part of his body locked up except his head and his hands, to which they gave random spasms as the seizure landed.

Thankfully, the seizure only lasted for a little over forty-five seconds before Ollie took a heaving breath and came out of it. His breathing was heavy and ragged and his head was splitting open with pain. His muscles hurt and he felt a little bit like he was floating on a cloud, not quite knowing what had happened or where he was for a moment. It usually happened right after one of them, the confusion lasting a little longer than other things. Except Ollie’s eyes landed on his Dad, so he focused on him, but couldn’t say anything quite yet. He felt awful. 

[oliver-pembrooke]

“If you actually appreciated my jokes, you would have beautiful laugh lines at the corner of your eyes like I do. See?” he joked, leaning in close to his soon to point out the little wrinkles on his face. 

Birch looked at his son and nodded right away. “Of course you can invite her over. We already cook so much for you kids that what’s one extra mouth?” He wondered if the want to invite her for dinner was concern for Mouse or because he wanted to spend more time with her. Either way, it seemed that his little boy had developed feelings. 

Smiling, Birch wrapped his prosthetic around Ollie’s shoulders. “Find out her favourite meal and we can cook it Pembrooke style for her. Makes a good impression you know? And my carrots will all be harvested within the next week, so we can have some fresh vegetables. I think even the apples will be good. We can have some pie. Show her the good parts of the family, before the crazy ones, right?”

Ollie had a feeling he knew the answer to that, but he also didn’t want his parents to think that this was going to go somewhere it might not go. He liked Mouse. He really did, but Ollie wasn’t turning eighteen until December and Mouse was not that far off from turning twenty. It may or may not even work out in their favor and he didn’t want to freak her out or give himself cold feet because his parents couldn’t control themselves. It was the hardest part of being the oldest of a bunch of siblings -- all eyes were on him. After all, more than likely, he’d be the first person to make his parents into grandparents -- not that he was really aiming to have kids anyway. Not when the Games were a constant looming factor.

“Cool, yeah, for sure,” Ollie said with a small smile, a headache building behind his eyes as he put his arm around his shoulders. “Thanks, Dad. I told her I’d call her and let her know what the deal was with that so I’ll tell her.”

It was making him nervous with how almost too excited his father was being about the whole thing. He didn’t know how his mother or sisters would react and it was starting to make him go on edge. He sighed through his nose, trying to fight the headache. He thought he was in the clear for a seizure, so he was trying to ignore it. “Let’s go back inside or something.” 

He went to stand up from the steps, except when he did, he felt the familiar sensation of his fingertips going numb, and he suddenly realized he didn’t know why he wanted to stand up in the first place. His headache was getting a little worse. Ollie reached out and grabbed a hold of his father’s shoulder, realizing quickly that he definitely wasn’t in the clear.

“Dad,” he gasped, his voice shaking. “Another... another...”

Ollie breathed out a heavy gasp as he felt the numbness spread a little more and his head started to twitch a little, beginning to feel like he could collapse on the steps at any second. 

[oliver-pembrooke]

“You never told me that you had started talking to Mouse,” he replied, looking over at Ollie. “I haven’t really had a chance to get to know her since she won. I’ve always meant to–I mean she won so young.” Birch gave a a bit of grimace. He tried his best to be friends or friendly with all of the Victors. Some were very against his charms, while others had become incredibly close. Sure, he had spoken to her in passing, but Birch felt bad that he hadn’t tried harder. 

Birch let out a thoughtful sigh, nodding his head slightly. “Psycho isn’t great. You know if she ever needs a place to stay for any reason, she can stay here. There’s still some rooms that are open for anyone.” 

“Plus, it will give me another person to practice my jokes on,” he added, with a smile. 

Ollie sighed as he felt his head coming in a little heavier again. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, trying to make sure it actually wasn’t a seizure coming on for a moment. He took a few deep breaths as his father continued talking, to which he looked up at him to find that the world wasn’t spinning yet. He was still in the clear. Nothing felt too off yet, so Ollie was hoping he could go back to normal. He had a pretty good, long stint without seizures for a while and he wanted to get back to that. Having three in two days had taken a lot out of him. 

“Yeah, I mean, she’s cool,” Ollie said, trying to keep it as neutral as possible so his father wouldn’t give him shit for having a crush. His offer to help her out made him smile slightly and he nodded. “I’ll relay that to her. Thanks, Dad.”

Except he ruined the moment by adding the jokes and he made a long groan. “Please, for the love of all that is good, don’t do that to her,” he said. “I already cringe enough to give me wrinkles.” He paused with a heavy sigh before he combed a hand through his hair. “So... if I were to invite her to dinner one night, you’d be okay with that?”

[oliver-pembrooke]

“They’re on the counter, Summer, you can go get some.  Bring a couple out for me and your brother?”

Summer nodded.  “Okay Mom!”

The young girl took off into the house to fetch the cookies while Oakley looked at her son.  “Are you alright?” she asked Ollie.  “You seem really quiet.”  It was uncommon for Ollie to be reserved.  He had always been the loud jokester at the center of attention.

Ollie didn’t react much to Summer leaving. As much as he loved his little sister, he did want to be alone sometimes. He didn’t show that part of himself often, finding himself loving to be in a crowd and seeking as much attention as possible to either get a laugh or get a glare. Ollie didn’t care which, as long as it came from the exact people he wanted to invoke emotion from. 

Then, his mother spoke gently to him, as she often did. He turned his head to look at her, his expression tired but blank. He sighed and nodded his head at her. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ollie said, his voice as level as he can make it. “I’m just tired after the last couple days. You know how it is.”

[oliver-pembrooke]

At the risk of appearing too chipper, a grin surfaced on Mouse’s features and she nodded with a sort of zest that was usually void from her interactions. If she were looking at herself from afar, she wouldn’t recognize the person at first glance. Maybe that was a good thing, though.

“I’ll be waiting,” she said in a sing-song voice. A small giggle left her lips as she began to descend down the front steps.

Ollie saw a glimmer in her eyes. Not of anything bad, but of happiness. At least he could make someone feel that way, which he could only assume was a good thing in this respect. He had two months to go until he was legally able to to ask her out on a date without it being too risque. He could hold out that long. Until then, he could get to know her a little better. Perhaps have her father warm up to him. There were things that he could do to occupy his time until then. 

“Good,” Ollie said with a small, gentle smile and a nod. 

He watched her take a couple steps away before he called out to her. When she did stop to look at him, he looked at her with a gentle stare before he gave a small gesture. “Be careful, okay?” 

With that, he saw her off, but he continued to sit there, making sure she got home okay before he heard the back door open behind him, signaling the arrival of his sister again. 

END

[oliver-pembrooke]

Birch’s heart fell a little at the way Ollie seemed to wave off his offer. This would happen eventually, but he didn’t expect it to hurt the way it did. All he wanted was for Ollie to know that he was there for him. But, even that was apparently too much. He had a feeling he would need Oakley to help him realize that Ollie wasn’t a little kid anymore. 

“That’s very kind of her. It’s out of her way to come up here and check in on you. Must mean that she cares enough about you, doesn’t it?” he said with a faint smile. Birch would have to talk to Mouse soon and try and connect with her like he should have in the past. He remembered her winning and at only thirteen. 

It came to him all at once, remembering when he was eighteen and wanting to go on a date, but having no one around to talk about it with. His parents were far away and all he had was himself. What he wouldn’t have given to have his dad there. “When did you start talking to her?”

Ollie was glad that he wasn’t pressing too hard into his business. While he didn’t want to put his parents’ at arm’s length, he wanted them to understand that there were things that they couldn’t help with and that he didn’t want them involved in. As he was about to become an adult and face his last Reaping, there was only so much they can do for him at this point. Either he was out of time, or he was about to face the rest of his life safe from the horrors of what his parents had gone through. Of what Mouse went through. 

“Yeah, I guess?” Ollie said as he raised an eyebrow at his Dad. He was being a little weird about it, which was making him nervous. “I mean... I started talking to her a couple years ago, I guess? Not extensively, just... in passing. Her Dad’s a bit of a psycho, if you ask me.” 

[oliver-pembrooke]