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nol-an · 3 years

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it was good until it wasn’t || n. patrick

inspired by the prompt, “please don’t make me choose.”

2k worth of A N G S T!! um yea haven’t written in over two years and this is my first hockey fic so bear with me. feedback is always appreciated! (this is not proofread and im sure there are probs some plot holes- oops)

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For so long, everything had felt too good to be true. Nolan finally accomplished his dream of playing in the NHL, and you had gotten into your dream school in Philadelphia. To you, there was nothing more important than pursuing a career in the medical field and being able to do that with Nolan on your side.

At times, the long study nights, missed plans, and occasional stressed-induced breakdowns made you question if you were ever going to meet your end goals. That feeling was definitely not foreign to you, but it didn’t necessarily make coping with the thought any easier. It was a weird feeling — four years of undergraduate school almost felt like too much yet not enough time. There was so much you wanted to accomplish, and you sometimes wished you weren’t so ambitious because the days where you felt incapable of being successful were the days that you wanted nothing more than to wallow in your fears alone.

Luckily for you, Nolan was incredibly understanding of your fears. While he knew his life as an athlete was drastically different from your life as a student, he tried his best to understand your thoughts and always told you how much he admired your drive to reach your goals. No matter how often you tried to internalize your emotions, Nolan knew better and never hesitated to be your rock. Be it in the form of verbal or physical reassurance, his presence radiated a sense of comfort that always brought you out of any illusion of doubt you may have conjured.

He doesn’t tell you enough, but you have a similar effect on him. Your gentle touches, cute pre-game texts, and warm hugs never fail to bring a smile to his face. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s not quite sure what he would do without you. It’s not really a thought he has to worry about, though, because for what felt like a blissful eternity, the stars aligned for you two. There were undoubtedly times when Nolan and you would run into disagreements, but the desire to make things work seemingly mended any issues in the relationship.

That was, however, until everything seem to come to a head. With your MCAT exam date approaching very soon and Nolan’s season with the Flyers starting just as quickly, it was hard for the two of you to bask in each other’s presence like usual. It wasn’t something either of you really noticed, as you both understood how important the other’s career was. You knew how important this comeback season for Nolan would be, and you tried your best to let him know that you would support him no matter what. He didn’t have to say it, but you knew a lot of doubts were rushing through your boyfriend’s head and you almost mistook his increasingly reserved demeanor as nerves.

In fact, you didn’t really give it much thought until Nolan came home from his fourth game of the season. As badly as you wished you could have attended, the remaining hours you had to prepare for the MCAT were previous and you reassured Nolan that you would be his number one cheerleader again as soon as you got the dreaded test out of the way.

Your nose was stuffed into a psychology textbook until your trance was broken with the slam of the front door to you and Nolan’s shared apartment.

“Hi, baby,” you greeted as you got out of your seat to hug your freshly-showered boyfriend. If the sound of the front door was any indication, you had a feeling that the game didn’t go as desired, and you didn’t want to push any touchy subjects. On more than one occasion, Nolan had told you how much he liked how he could escape from hockey in your presence. He loved that he could escape from that part of his life, loved how you made him feel like a normal guy. You thought this would be one of those nights where even the word “hockey” wouldn’t be uttered, but you were wrong. So wrong.

“You’re not gonna ask how the game went?” Your boyfriend pressed, his tone bitter. Pulling away from your hug, he turned his back to you all too soon and he walked towards the kitchen.

“I-I mean, you know I’m always here to listen about your games, but I just thought you wouldn’t want to talk about it?” you meekly replied, unsure of where he was going with the conversation.

You weren’t entirely sure what the outcome of the game was, but you were definitely confused. Nolan usually didn’t like talking about the Flyers’ losses, but you were so sure something went wrong based on his dramatic entrance into your shared home.

Prompted by his silence, you continued, “Um, so was it a win?” you uttered, regretting your words as soon as they slipped off your tongue.

Slamming his water bottle on the countertop, Nolan’s actions caused your words to dissipate. Silence filled the room, the tension almost palpable.

“Well you would know if you were there, wouldn’t you?” he replied, clearly annoyed by your seemingly stupid question.

Alright, so definitely not a win.

“Nols,” you tried to reason, “You know I wanted to be there so badly, but I couldn’t. The MCAT is almo-” you were abruptly cut off.

“I know. The MCAT is only two weeks away and it’s super important for you. It’s been the same thing for weeks now, you don’t have to remind me,” Nolan finished your sentence, his monotonous and resentful tone making it clear that he had already heard the same words from you numerous times before.

Had it not been for this same tone, you would have brushed off his comment. You would have instead attributed his harshness to tonight’s loss, which would have been the third one in a row. However, his response felt condescending — like he was downplaying how important the MCAT actually was to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you quipped. It felt like you just recited the most cliche line in the book, but your brain and heart had already started functioning at two different rates. If you attempted to say any more, your stress from the upcoming exam mixed with the rising argument you sensed would have surely sent you into a pool of tears.

“It’s just exhausting you, know?” Nolan started, “I know you’re busy with your own things, but it sucks seeing all of the other guys getting to hug their girlfriends and wives at the tunnel at the end of games while I know I can’t have the same with you. I mean, is it so much to ask of you to just be there for me? How am I supposed to believe that you want the best for me when you aren’t even acting like it?” he argued.

“‘So was it a win?’” he bitterly recited your earlier question, scoffing at it. “You could have at least Googled the score and pretended like you were keeping up.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your confusion immediately turned into anger and shock — you thought Nolan, out of all people, would have understood your situation. Not being able to wrap your head around his current state of irrationality, it felt like hours passed before you willed yourself to reply.

“I've attend almost every game of yours. I’m sorry I haven’t been so good at that recently, but you know how much I want to do well on this exam,” you seethed.

You were trying to stay level-headed, but anger consumed any possibility of making the discourse calm. “My life does not revolve solely around your career, and I’m sure as hell not going to always be able to put my life on hold to make sure I know what the scoreboard of every game is.” You couldn’t help but let every one of your words become coated in frustration. You thought everything you were saying was so obvious, and you couldn’t help but become more upset with the fact that you even had to reiterate these points to Nolan.

“Sometimes it feels like I’m not even dating someone,” Nolan dryly responded. “Feels like all you do nowadays is drone on and on about this test. Is this what the rest of our relationship it gonna be like? I mean, I can’t imagine what things are gonna be like once you’re in med school,” he hastily commented, pacing around the kitchen.

Every one of his words felt like a punch to your gut. His words hurt more than your face let on, every instinct in your body asking —no, begging— you to flee your current predicament.

“I don’t know what to say,” you truthfully replied.

“Is there even room for me in your life anymore?” he questioned, adding fuel to the fire. “It feels like I’m always second to your fantasy life as a doctor.”

This was your last straw. Sure, you could have tried to see the validity in his initial argument if you gave yourself time to cool down. But now, it felt like he was mocking you. The same person that made your goals feel attainable was starting to break down your confidence. The confidence that he helped you construct was now crumbling, brick by brick.

“Nolan, you mean so much more to me than that. Please, I would never want you to feel this way, and I know we can work this out we just need to tal-” you were cut off once more.

“I don't know if I can do this anymore,” he cryptically stated, letting your worst fears fester around the kitchen that felt way too cramped now.

“Nol, please,” you pleaded. Your anger immediately shifted to dread.

“I want you to achieve your dreams more than anything, but I don’t know if I see myself in these future plans if this is what the rest of your career is supposed to be like. Do I even have a place in your future plans?” Nolan sighed.

Your stomach dropped. Even though he didn’t explicitly state it, you knew what he was hinting at. It was your career or him, and he was making it clear that having both in your life wouldn’t be feasible. As if he pulled out the last brick, you finally let all of your walls down. Tears freely flowed down your face, as you tried to convince yourself that you were hearing wrong. You wanted to scream it at the top of your lungs. Of course you saw Nolan as part of your future. Hell, he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. However, his seeming disregard for your career aspirations was off-putting and made you reconsider everything.

Your eyesight, blurry from your tears, tried to focus on the hockey player. Your dejected state urged you to reason with him, but you were unsure of what to do.

“Please, Nolan. Please don’t make me choose,” you pleaded. In comparison to your vulnerable state, Nolan was composed. It was as if he rehearsed this, his blank stare void of emotion. You tried to come closer to him, but his body language told you that your touch wasn’t welcome.

“I don’t have to,” Nolan pushed himself off the counter, “The fact that you don’t already know your answer already tells me what I need to know,” he stated. Grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter, he headed to the front door before you could gather your emotions and form words.

Your anger, confusion, and hurt seemed to weigh you down, gluing your feet to the ground. As much as you wanted to stop his exit from the apartment, your body kept you in place. With a second slam of the front door, the gust of wind from the heavy door whiffled through your long-forgotten textbook, the sound of the pages ruffling mocking you. The silence following Nolan’s exit was deafening. You never thought Nolan would make you choose between your relationship with him and your career. You thought you knew a lot of things about life, really, but this was certainly something you were not prepared for.

Your world was spinning, orbiting into a field of anguish and heartbreak. As if your brain hadn’t quite registered the turn of events, you almost thought about calling for Nolan until you were cruelly reminded that reaching for him was no longer an option. Your rock was gone, and you were lost.

#nolan patrick fic #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick #nhl imagine #nhl fic #my writing

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tomtenadia · 3 years

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Island Dreams - Chapter 29

DreamsSo, chapter 29 is here and I am sorry. This chapter has angst. The angst gremlin was in a good mood and this chapter happened. I am sorry. So, so sorry. It does end with fluff but it takes a while.Also, there is a bit of a medical situation. I hope i got it right. I am not a med student. I just used years watching medical dramas and research on google to be accurate, but if i wrote some medical blunders I apologise. It's a fanfic :)Just have some chocolate ready :)

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It was a few days after Aelin and Rowan had come back from their small holiday in Glasgow. As planned they had taken a few more days to go back to the islands and they had a small and relaxing holiday on Skye. Aelin had been exhausted after their trip to the A&E so Rowan had decided to err of the side of caution and they had spent most of their time in the cottage or on a beach with a couple of drives through the countryside. Not what Aelin had dreamed but Rowan had been adamant that they were going to stay in the car. Even with the limitations, they still had a fantastic time but eventually they both had to go back to work. Rowan had begged Aelin to ask to start maternity leave a bit earlier on the basis of a at risk pregnancy, but she did not listen, so that morning she had left for work after he had made his displeasure quite clear and their fight had been quite epic. They had parted with no nice words and just ignored each other.

A really heavy rain with strong winds had been lashing the islands since the early morning. Rowan was checking the forecast website and the meteorologists had classed it as storm and once again it was going to be bad. He was in the shop and started pacing, while staring at the raging winds outside. Aelin was driving to work in those conditions and he was nervous. He should have offered to drive her, but he had been mad after the fight they had in the morning and now he regretted it. She was not used to drive in such conditions and although she didn’t have much to drive, he was still anxious. The short drive from their place to work had been horrific, even for someone with experience like him. The roads were flooded in most places and the very strong winds had made driving very hard. Anxiety rising he quickly phoned the A&E reception and asked if she was there already but the nurse told him she wasn’t. He didn’t want to phone her because that might distract her from driving and put her and the girls in danger. Lysandra was walking around the shop and sorting out a few things while he fidgeted nervously at the desk. “You seem nervous.” Rowan sighed “Aelin is on her way to work in this storm.” He took a sip of his coffee “I should have driven her. I called the hospital and she is not there yet. She should be. It has been fifty minutes already. It takes half an hour tops from our house on a bad day.” “Maybe she is just driving slowly because of the weather.” Said the woman trying to calm him down. Rowan closed his eyes and tried to slow down his heart that was racing in his chest. He was freaking out. He took a deep breath and went back to work. While he was working away on the computer, his eyes kept drifting to his mobile phone near the keyboard. He had asked her to text him when she had arrived. And the more the time passed without news the more nervous he became.

It was much later when his phone went off but not how he expected. An unknown number was calling him. He ignored it. When the number tried again after just one minute he picked up, maybe it was Aelin from the hospital. “Hello?” “Rowan?” He knew that voice. It was Malcolm. The panic rose. Why was he calling him? “Hi Malcolm? Is Aelin at work? She left a while ago and she hasn’t texted me.” “Rowan, something happened.” Rowan all of a sudden felt sick “I need you to come to the hospital immediately.” Rowan forgot how to breath. How to think or function. “Rowan?” “I… I am coming.” He breathed “Is she….” He could not add anything. Could not make himself think of the worst. “Not on the phone.” Rowan hung up. “That was Malcolm. I need to go.” That’s all he said to Lysandra. The woman had tried to ask for more info but Rowan had disappeared already. She knew Malcolm was Aelin’s second at the hospital and if he had phoned it meant something had happened. Everything was a blur. He was moving on muscle memory. He had no idea of what he was doing. He got in the car and drove to the hospital as if his life depended on that trip. He was at the hospital not long after and ran into the A&E and Malcolm was there to meet him. “Rowan, wait.” Said Malcolm grabbing the man’s arm. “Where is she? What happened?” Rowan’s voice was full of panic. His eyes scanned the beds for her but he could not see Aelin. Was he too late? His heart was racing and the feeling of sickness came back. She could not… “Come with me.” Said Malcolm calmly and with a touch of tenderness. “Mal, where is she?” He was on the verge of tears and almost shouted at the man. He wanted news. Malcolm stopped “She had an accident, Rowan. A bad one. A passerby called the ambulance when he saw her car…” and he trailed off. The man did not need the details “She was brought in urgently. She is in surgery now.” Rowan had to force himself to remember how to breathe again. He tried to say something but his brain was paralysed. “I don’t know anything. She came into the A&E, we stabilised her and went straight to surgery and I don’t have anymore news. She was alive though when she came in. We didn’t have time to check for the twins but Yrene was called immediately.” Rowan felt tears come out of him, his hand went to his mouth as if to stop the heavy sob ready to burst. “Sit down. I’ll come back as soon as I have an update.” Malcolm patted his shoulder and left him. Rowan sat down in the waiting room and stared at the window as his mind replayed every single word Malcolm had said. She was alive. What about the twins? Did they survive the crash? She is alive. He kept telling himself as a mantra. Forcing himself to believe it. Malcolm came back an hour later and sat down beside him. “I have an update.” Rowan nodded as in a daze and barely noticed the man sitting at his side. “She is still in surgery. She had internal injuries and they are working on stopping the bleeding and keeping the twins alive at the same time.” He paused and Rowan knew there was more “She has a head injury and they are checking the extent of the head damage as well. She is good hands, Rowan. They will be fine.” Rowan stood and left and went outside and stood under the sheltered area of the drop off section and stared at the rain in a futile attempt to empty his brain and dull the extreme pain ensnaring his heart. They had a fight. The last conversation they had was a stupid fight. He did not kiss her. Did not tell her he loved her like every morning before she left for work. Too mad and too proud to even try and fix things and apologise for the horrible things he had said. They both had said. It was the very first vicious fight they ever had. And now she was in surgery. Now she was fighting for her life and he could well risk losing her. If anything happened to her he would always remember the nasty things they had said to each other. He felt bile rise in his stomach. That could not be. He needed to apologise to her, tell her he loved her. He sat on the bench for a moment but then got up again, his body incapable of staying still. He felt like he was drowning in his grief. He started pacing and did not stop until his body started to protest and exhausted he sat again on the bench. He leaned forward and the pendant around his neck slipped off his t-shirt and the grief came rushing back. She had bought that for him. While on Skye they had found a shop that sold Celtic jewellery and she had bought him a necklace with a pendant of the Tree of Life. He had told her he did not wear necklaces but she, with her usual stubbornness, had convinced him and he had caved. Because he could not say no to her. Now he gripped the pendant in his hand as if to keep the connection with her “Don’t leave me…” he whispered as tears began flowing again “I can’t. There is no way without you.” Much later Malcolm found him again and Rowan felt fear grip him. He looked at Malcolm and he noticed a faint smile in the man’s face. He had just realised that Malcolm was just as worried as him. He and Aelin had become great friends and the man cared a lot about her. The man took his hand gripping it hard “She is out of surgery.” Rowan let out a breath he did not know he was holding. Out of surgery was at least a positive. “She suffered what we call a pneumothorax, one of her lungs collapsed from the crash. I fixed it when she came into the A&E. She was intubated on the scene. Paramedics said she was still conscious for a while but she was struggling breathing. Then she passed out, probably from the concussion.There was internal bleeding in her abdomen but the surgeon treated that and the twins are safe. Yrene was in the OR as well.” Malcolm explained while Rowan sat beside him, head hung low “The head injury was far less serious than thought. The concussion is still quite bad but the neurologist cleared her but they need to keep her under observation for all the reasons I mentioned.” Rowan heard Malcolm chuckle “At least being strong headed has its perks.” Rowan squeezed the hand back. “She is in the ICU and currently still intubated and unconscious. She is not out of the woods yet and that’s why she will stay in intensive care for a few days probably. Her being pregnant means we need to tackle things differently to avoid causing harm to the twins.” Malcolm explained and felt Rowan hand shake in his “when they brought her in…” he looked away “I felt as if someone had just kicked me in the guts.” Rowan noticed his voice shaking as well “I do this every day, but when they bring in someone you know, it gets impossible to think straight. All my years of medical and military training went down the drain for an instant. I could not move or act.” “Thank you.” Rowan’s words were a whisper. “I know how it feels…” the man said “To be on the other side. To wait for news…I lost my partner and I didn’t even get to see him because we were continents apart. I know the heart shattering pain behind the call. I took me a while to get the courage to call you. And Aelin…” Malcolm’s voice was on the verge of breaking “she is my best friend. I spent the last three hours camped in front of the door to the OR. It’s a miracle they haven’t kicked me out.” “Thank you.” Rowan had no strength for anything else. “We can go and see her if you want.” The man said standing up. Rowan did not move “we had a fight this morning.” He confessed with a weak voice “a really, really bad one. She was not at her greatest and I told her it was time for her to ask for maternity leave and screw the hospital. She did not like it. We fought. We told each other things we did not mean. She left the house so mad at me. I did not kiss her or told her I loved her.” He looked up at Malcolm “and all I have been thinking is that if I loose her I could not live with the regret that those had been our last words. And it’s killing me.” Malcolm sat back down beside him. “She knows you love her.” Mal placed a hand on Rowan’s knee “and I have been telling her to go on maternity leave for a while and I believe Yrene has been doing the same. I have tried taking over her on difficult cases and stopped her from doing surgery. But she is stubborn and you know it. And I had fights too. You are not the only one. She told she did not become a doctor to sit behind a desk. But I have been keeping an eye on her and probably the entire staff. She hasn’t been well.” Rowan sighed “we had a trip to the A&E in Glasgow.” He admitted. “By the time she recovers from this it will be time for her to deliver the twins.” Malcolm stood again “let’s go.” Rowan froze. He wasn’t sure if he was ready. Then he sighed and stood and dried his eyes with the back of his hand “Let’s go and annoy her for making us worry.” Malcolm laughed and for a moment Rowan relaxed as well until he stopped in front of the closed door of her room in the ICU ward. He put a hand on the handle and froze. He was now alone. Malcolm had to go back to his job but had promised to go and visit. Rowan was terrified of what was on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?” Asked a nurse at his side when she noticed him immobile in front of the door. “Yeah. I am just…” he noticed his hand shake. He was about to add something when a familiar voice called his name, he turned and noticed Yrene walking toward him. “Malcolm told me he phoned you.” She stopped in front of him. “How….? “I was in the OR. I checked on her. We thought for a moment we had to deliver the twins but we managed to avoid it. Still too early. But they are fine now. She is fine. She is strong.” Rowan hugged the woman “Thank you.” It seemed as if that we the only sentence he could utter. “I assume you are here to see her.” He nodded. “I can come in with you if it helps.” Rowan stared at the door “Please.” He wasn’t sure he could make it in the room on his own. Yrene opened the door and he paused before following. And when he saw her he froze on the spot and almost felt sick. She looked so small in the hospital bed. Her colour was off and her blonde hair looked dull. Heavy bandage covered one side of her head. A tube attached to a machine made sure she breathed properly a small one, a feeding tube probably, sneaked out of her nose, cables connected the pads monitoring her heart beat and plastic tubes connected the needles on her hand to the IV bag at her side. The he noticed the cuts and bruises on her arms and on her face. “Paramedics said she is alive because she was wearing a seat belt. The firefighters had to pry the car door open to extract her.” explained Yrene. Rowan heard the woman speak at his side. “It looks like she lost control of the car due to the heavy rain.” Malcolm had omitted those details and looking at her he realised how close he had been to loose the three of them. He could not breathe. He left the room and leaned against the wall trying to stop a panic attack from striking. “Rowan…” said Yrene placing a hand on his arm “I am sorry I didn’t mean…” Rowan slid down until he was crouching and he let the tears and the sobs go. “I almost…” he sobbed “I almost lost the three of them.” He finally allowed himself to fully shed the tears he had stopped before. “She is my everything.” He looked up at Yrene “the three of them. I…” his voice broke and he kept on sobbing while the doctor was kneeling in front of him. He started hyperventilating and Yrene placed a hand on his shoulder “Rowan. Look at me. You are having a panic attack.” She took both of his hands “Breath in and out. Do it with me.” And together they did it and after a while Rowan felt like himself again and started breathing normally once more. With the back of his hand he brushed away the tears and took one final deep breath. “I am sorry…” “For what? For crying? There is nothing wrong with it.” He nodded and stood. “Thank you.” He gave her another hug and eventually he got back in the room. He grabbed the chair and sat down beside Aelin and grabbed her bandaged hand into his. He sat in silence, listening to the storm raging outside and the steady beeping of the machines. Below it, there was another one giving a stranger sound and he assumed that was the babies heartbeat. He placed his free hand on the bump “Hi you three…” and kissed the bump and he felt a kick. That was a good sign “I have been so scared. I almost lost you all and the idea almost broke me.” He lifted her hand to his mouth “thank you for listening to me. I know that the seat belt while pregnant makes you uncomfortable but thank you for listening to this paranoid old man.” Tears were flowing again and he started singing Every River to her “there is no way without you…” he whispered again once he was finished. “I am sorry for this morning.” He kissed her hand again letting his tears streak along his cheeks “I am so sorry. I just wanted you to slow down and look after yourself. I don’t want to control your life.” He leaned his head against the bed and his shoulders shook with the sobs “I love you. I love you. You are my everything and I promise I will be a better man. I promise I will be worthy of you.” He squeezed her hand “Just don’t leave me, please.” He remained in that position for a time that felt like an eternity, talking to her and begging her forgiveness for his bad temper until he heard a knock and Lysandra appeared on the door. He lifted his head, eyes still puffy. He looked at Lysandra and realised her face probably matched his. Once he had an update on Aelin he had phoned Lys to explain what happened. He had left the shop like a madman. “Hey,” “Hi.” He managed, his voice still gruff. Lysandra waited on the doorstep but with his head he gestured to her to come in. “I will not stay long. I am not allowed in technically. I am not family.” “She would want you here.” His voice was flat and devoid of all emotions. “How is she? They?” Then as an instinct she went to the bottom of the bed and grabbed her chart. Far better than let Rowan retell her everything. The man looked like a wreck. “Looks like they have done a good job,” and placed the chart back. Lysandra moved a step closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder squeezing. They both stood there in silence until Lysandra spoke “I really need to go.” She added “I closed the shop as usual. You don’t worry about it for the next few days. I’ll look after it. You need to stay with her, okay?” Lysandra’s words were said through sobs. Rowan stood and hugged her. “Look after her, please.” “Always.” He replied, brushing her tears away. Lysandra left and Rowan went back to his seat. He wished he had comforted the woman a bit more but he could barely think. So he relaxed and hoped Lysandra would understand. A doctor came in a few times and he gave him an update telling him that they were planning to keep her in the ICU for a few more days. He explained that she was not out of the woods just yet. As good news he told him that they were planning to remove the ventilator the following morning. Her oxygen levels had improved significantly and it was safe to let her breathe on her own. Rowan allowed himself to sigh relieved.

He had spent the entire night on the chair and when Rowan woke up the following morning by the noise of the nurses going about their job he felt stiff and sore. “I am sorry,” he apologised to one of the nurses “I fell asleep last night.” He turned to Aelin and noticed the tube was gone and looked at the woman. “The doctor removed it this morning. She is breathing with no problems and her oxygen levels are stable and good and there is no risk for the babies either. Their heartbeat is quite strong. Dr. McIver was in as well and he gave her a check up.” Then the nurse went to check her IV “her edema is improving as well. The doctor declared that her neurological responses are all normal. They are keeping her sedated a little longer to allow the body to rest.” Rowan almost hugged the nurse “They will be fine. She might have to stay in the hospital a little bit but they are okay.” She said affectionately “I will come back later. If you need anything I am here.” “Is it okay if I bring her own clothes? She must be uncomfortable with the hospital gown.” “Let me know when you are back and I will help you change her. She has tubes and all sorts of things attached to her.” Rowan nodded and the nurse left him. He leaned forward and kissed Aelin on the cheek “I am coming back soon. I am going to get you a few of my t-shirts and your nice comfy trousers.” Another kiss “I love you.”

When he came back two hours later he noticed Malcolm on the chair he had previously occupied. “Hi Mal.” The man stood in a swift motion “The doctor gave me an update, looks like she will be okay after all.” Rowan nodded “they removed the respirator.” “That is always a good sign.” Explained Malcolm “I sneaked a look at her chart and the test are all good and her neurological functions are perfect which was my fear. The head injury looked far more serious than what it turned out to be.” Rowan dropped the bag on the floor “Yeah, that’s what the doctor said.” “Have you eaten? Have you slept here all night?” Rowan nodded “On the chair and yes I had a quick bite at home.” “I can get you coffee, food, let me know okay?” “Mal,” Rowan asked quietly “Why is her head bandaged that way if the injury wasn’t serious?” “Rowan, every single head injury can be problematic. All I saw when she came in was her head covered in blood and a deep and long gash. That’s why I feared. But it looks like it was not deep enough to damage the skull and the swelling was minimal. It’s for protection. She will have stitches.” “Thanks.” He sighed “I keep fearing the worst. And all the bandages make it look terrifying.” “Do you trust me?” Rowan nodded. “I know that between the tubes, cables and machinery it might seem bad, but that’s the scary side of ICU. They want her here another day because before moving her, they want to be extra sure everything is okay.” “Thanks.” Then Malcolm chuckled “I am waiting for her to wake up and starting giving orders to nurses and doctors.” Rowan let out a gentle chuckle. The sound still felt alien. Malcolm pager went off “Aaaand I have to go.” He gave Aelin a kiss on the cheek and left. Rowan went to call the nurse and with her help they got Aelin into more comfortable clothes. “Thank you for the help.” Once the nurse was away he sat back down and grabbed a book “I brought our favourite book. I know angst is not what you want just now but I might read some of your favourite parts.” And gently he deposited a kiss on her head. Rowan kept reading all the way through the afternoon and once he was finished he placed the book on the nightstand and grabbed her hand in his “do you remember when I was the one who got in an accident and you had to pretend you were my wife?” He chuckled “it felt really nice to be your fake husband for a few hours.” He brushed her cheeks with the back of his hand, then his hand moved down to the bump and lowered the blankets enough to expose a bit of her belly and deposit a kiss on it. “Hi girls. I hope you are okay and keeping mum some company. She really needs you right now.” A small kick against his hand “I know, I am scared too,” another kick and Rowan finally found again the strength to let a small laugh go “I know, I love you too.”

It was two days later when Rowan was told by the doctor that they were happy to finally move her out of the ICU. They had explained that she had been stable enough that she did not need the ICU anymore. Yrene had further explained that they were going to move her in a room in the maternity ward. The pregnancy was the only thing that needed to be kept under control and Yrene wanted to have her under constant observation. “We are also removing the sedation. Which means she will slowly wake up. She will be groggy and with a monumental headache, but I expect her to wake up within a couple of hours.” “Are the girls okay?” Yrene leaned against the edge of the bed “She hit one side of her belly. It did not damage the uterus or the placenta but a trauma like this can cause what we call placental abruption, which means that the placenta detaches partially or completely from the uterine wall. A severe case can lead to death. I am checking her quite regularly to make sure nothing develops.” She explained to him “But when she gets discharged I want her on bed rest. She is not going back to work, she will only be allowed to get out to bed to pee. And I am not joking.” “I have been telling her to ask for early maternity leave for a while and I think Malcolm had been pestering her as well.” “Glad to know we are on the same side on this.” Yrene left and he sat on the bed beside her, one hand in hers and the free one on the bump “Did you hear Yrene? We are putting you under house arrest. But don’t worry, I’ll bring you books, I’ll cook and do anything you need. We’ll make a nice cocoon of the bed and have Netflix ready for you to binge watch when you are too tire to read.” He kissed her head “you scared the hell out of me, Fireheart. I thought I was going to lose you and the girls and and I almost went mad with grief.” He realised he had fallen asleep only much later when he felt a gentle pressure on the hand that was still holding Aelin’s. His heart raced all of a sudden. “Aelin, move your finger again if you hear me.” The movement this time was a bit more pronounced and he saw the finger bend against his hand. “Fireheart…” he called her. Slowly he saw her eyes flutter open. Her beautiful blue eyes staring at him. “Aelin…” he repeated with a broken voice. She looked at him and gave him a very faint and weak smile. She tried to speak but Rowan stopped her. “You were intubated. Your throat must be on fire.” He grabbed a glass of water “drink a little.” He brought the glass to her mouth and she drank. “What…” “You had an accident. You had surgery and had been out for three days. You also injured you head with a bad concussion.” He caressed her head “you got stitches and the doctor said you might experience headaches. You were in the ICU for three days but now they moved you to the maternity ward.” At those words Aelin’s eyes filled with terror. “The twins are fine. Yrene feared they might have to deliver early but in the end there was no need. But she is keeping you under observation for a pathology connected to the placenta. I don’t remember the term she used. “Placental…” she croaked “abruption.” Rowan nodded and took her hand when he saw terror in her blue eyes “You are fine for now. Yrene is just being very careful.” And at those words Aelin relaxed a bit. “You freaked out Malcolm.” Confessed Rowan trying to lighten the mood. “No way.” “You did. Big time. That’s how bad it was.” Rowan sat beside her on his chair and again took her hand “Lys was here very briefly. I am keeping her in the loop and she has been keeping the shop open.” Aelin gave him a tight smile. He then leaned forward and kissed her gently on her lips “Rest now, please. I will be here. I am not going anywhere.”

It was the middle of the night and Aelin woke up all of a sudden screaming “Rowan!” she shouted. He was awake in a second and noticed her distress. He turned on the light “What happened? Are you okay?”He then noticed Aelin was shaking visibly. In an instant he was sitting on the bed at her side and he pulled her up to him. Aelin kept shaking and started crying. “Let me out.” She started sobbing against his chest and Rowan’s heart broke. “Aelin, you are safe. It’s me. You are safe the girls are safe.” She shook her head and the shaking got worse and her breathing became laboured. “Let me out,” she screamed again, the panic thick in her voice. Yrene was in the room in an instant “I heard her scream.” Then she folded forward holding her bump. Rowan moved away and let Yrene work. “Aelin, I need you to try and breathe slowly for me.” She took a belt like device that was abandoned on her nightstand and tied it around Aelin’s waist. The monitor returned the heartbeat of the babies and it was not good. “Aelin, I need you to relax. It’s not good for the twins.” Rowan took a step forward and went to Aelin’s side. He pulled her head to his chest and held her close and started singing Every River to her and slowly she calmed down, her breathing returning to normal. For the babies it took a bit longer but once they were in the clear Yrene left them again. “I am sorry.” She blurted, her hands still shaking a bit. “No, mo chridhe, don’t apologise.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. He had a feeling he would wake up with nightmares too for a while.

In the morning, while Aelin slept, Rowan had gone home, took a shower and grabbed a few more clothes for her and when he got back he found her in company of Malcolm. The two were laughing and the sound warmed his heart. “You should be resting,” was what he said as he entered the room. The bandages on her arms, the cuts and the bruises on her face and body made her look worse for wear. “He’s right,” said Malcolm standing “And I have to go back to work.” He kissed Aelin on the cheek and disappeared through the door. Aelin wanted to protest but she realised she had no energy. “I brought you clean clothes,” he put the bag on the floor and took out a clean t-shirt. Aelin smiled at him and he helped her remove the t-shirt she had on and replaced with a clean one. “It smells like you.” “Good,” he added kissing her forehead “How are you feeling?” “Tired, my head hurts and my so does my body and the food sucks.” She commented “As I doctor I never bothered but now that I am a patient I can see that food really is bad.” “Do you want me to get you something?” He sat on the bed beside her. “Yes please. A slice of chocolate cake from your aunt would be amazing to cheer me up.” Then she patted her bump “the girls want it.” “Using our daughters to satisfy your sugar needs is not very motherly.” “Rowan Whitethorn, I’ll sell you to the highest bidder for a chocolate cake.” “I love you,” he told her while pressing a gentle kiss on her lips.

When he got back to the room he found her talking to their daughters. “I bring chocolate.” “Come here you.” She extended her arms greedily. “I am starting to think you love chocolate cake more than me.” He joked. It felt good to to it again after the horror that his life has been in the past few days. “Of course, Buzzard. You have an aunt who provides amazing chocolate delicacies. Do you really think I fell for you for your charming personality?” He scoffed and left the room with the bag carrying the cake still in his hands. “Rowan.” She shouted “I am recovering, don’t you have a bit of compassion for a poor lady stuck in bed?” He popped his head in the room “Lady? I don’t see any lady in here.” And he disappeared again and Aelin groaned in frustration. As soon as she could she would get her revenge. Rowan came back a moment later and sat down on the chair in front of her bed. Showed her a fork and opened the cake container and with provocation took a bite of the cake and that was it for him “How can you eat something so sweet?” He said while flinching in disgust. Aelin’s stare was murderous. “Fine, you can have it.” He passed her the cake “You are going to be sick.” “I am not a newbie.” She started eating and felt her mood improve immediately. “Did Yrene spoke to you?” Aelin pretended not to hear him. “Aelin?” He tried to take the cake away from her but she protested. “Did you talk to Yrene?” “Do you want to know if she told me I am on bed rest until the twins arrive? Yes, she did. And Malcolm piled on as well.” “Good.” “And can I hope you will listen to them?” “I have to. Yrene is really preoccupied about placental abruption. She says that in the spot near where the bump took the hit there are warning signs appearing. She also talked about a scheduled delivery at 36 weeks. If no issues arise.” He saw fear in her eyes. Hopefully she would finally slow down “there is so much going on though. The house move is in two weeks and I won’t be able to help or do anything.” He sat on the bed “we have a lot already packed and Aedion and Lysandra have offered to help. You just heal and get better and look after Freyja and Morrigan and leave the house move to me, please.” He caressed her face “You should sleep a bit more, you don’t look well.” Aelin nodded and lay down in bed and Rowan took his seat back on the chair. “Will you stay here with me?” He gave her a kiss “Of course.” “I am sorry….” He lowered his head. “Why?” He could not look at her “The other morning, what I said. I was just so angry.” Aelin leaned forward and ran a hand through his silvery hair “Ro, I said horrible things too. We are both at fault. We both have bad tempers and no filters. And I regret very single word I said.” She leaned back against the pillow. She was exhausted but they needed closure on that fight “You were just trying to look after me. And you were right. I was not well I should have stayed at home. But I am stubborn and well… we know how it ended.” He finally looked at her and he felt his eyes get wet again “I thought…” a deep breath “While you were still in surgery I kept thinking that the last words I told you were out of a fight. I let you go without telling you I love you or a kiss. I almost went crazy with grief.” He took another deep breath “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He repeated almost to make up for all the times he did not have time to say it. “I want to be worthy of you. Of our daughters.” He confessed lowering his head in apology. “Rowan, mo chridhe, you are worthy.” Her fingers ran under his chin and lifted his head to look at her “You are my wonderful man.” Aelin extended her arms “Come here.” Rowan stood and sat beside her in bed and buried himself in her embrace and with his head in the crook of her neck he breathed in her scent “I know you don’t want to control my life.” Her hand brushed his back “I can’t believe that for a moment I compared you to Chaol.” She kissed her head and his arms tightened around her and as he leaned closer he felt a kick against his abdomen and a chuckle left him. “Our daughters are trying to put their two pence worth.” Aelin smiled against his head and continued “Ro, I know a relationship where a fight ends up in a contest to see who can be more hurtful and neither actually regrets the words. That is not us.” She brushed his long hair “we bicker and sometimes we fight as well, but never with the intent of hurting the other. And if I am nasty to you I regret it immediately and I know you do too.” Rowan looked up at her and kissed her deeply and Aelin leaned in into the kiss and when they pulled apart they were both breathless. “Plus, I need to keep being in your good books. You bring me cake.” Aelin laughed and Rowan kissed her again “I am happy to bring you cake forever.” “We should put it in the wedding vows.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand “We will, but for now rest.” Aelin nodded and ten minutes later she was fast asleep.

It was ten days later when Yrene decided to finally discharge Aelin and Rowan was in full fuss mode. “I got all the papers. We are ready to go.” He said as he brought the wheelchair in the room. He helped Aelin to get in it and then grabbed her bags with the clothes. Aelin said goodbye to the nurses and they finally left the hospital. The fresh June air hit her and after almost two weeks inside a hospital bedroom she welcomed the smell of summer. When they got to the car he noticed Aelin tensed. “Will you be okay?” “Is not that I have any other options. Plus, you are a good driver. I will be fine.” He helped her in the car and Aelin closed her eyes and pretended she was somewhere else. They were half way home when Aelin shouted at Rowan “Stop the car.” Slowly he found a safe spot to pull over and turned to her. In her face he saw utter panic. “Ae, I am going as slowly as legally possible, but we have to get home.” “I know,” she breathed, as the tried to stop herself from being sick “Give me five minutes.” He lowered the windows and let the fresh air fill the car. Then he got out of the car and went to her side and opened the door. He took her hand and pulled her out of the seat and in front of the car and off the road. He hugged, letting her lean completely on him. “What are you doing?” “Distracting you.” He kissed her. She snuggled against his chest and inhaled his pine scent “it’s working.” “Good.” “Kiss me again.” And he did that and felt Aelin relax in his arms “I think we can go home now.” Rowan nodded and helped her go back to her seat. Once inside Aelin started playing with the mp3 player “I think we need a good soundtrack for the last part of the journey,” and she blasted Peat and Diesel “and that’s the way we do it in the Western Isles.” She started singing. Rowan laughed and sang with her. Music had helped her not think about her fear and they made it back home without any further episodes. Once they got in the house Aelin was not prepared for the amount of boxes lying around. “You have been busy I see. When did you do this?” “While I was at home.” “So instead of relaxing you came home and packed?” Rowan nodded. “The bookcases looks sad without books.” “I know, but they are all packed now. That was the worst part. I donated a lot to a charity shop.” She glared at him. “Just my books. I haven’t touched yours. I actually had books that I did not care keeping and it helped. Just a little.” “Once we are in the new house I’ll do the same. I am positive that there are books I don’t want to keep.” Then she stood from the sofa where she had collapsed seated. “I need a shower. A real shower. I feel gross.” “Go,” he said “Are you hungry?” Aelin nodded eagerly. “Good, I’ll make lunch.” She turned to him and kissed his lips “you are the man of my dreams.” Rowan laughed and walked away to the kitchen. When she got to the kitchen half an hour later she noticed Rowan all busy cooking. “Nice shower?” “You have no idea.” She tried to take a seat at the high chairs at the kitchen aisle but failed. “Go to the living room and sit on the sofa, we are eating there.” “Thank you. I hate these things. Why can’t you have normal chair like everyone?” He kissed her “Because I have a kitchen island and a normal chair will not do. When I went for a fancy kitchen I had not taken into account that one day I’d have a pregnant woman in the house.” “Fine.” Aelin waddled all the way back to the living room and plopped exhausted on the sofa “You will need a forklift to remove me from here.” The sound of Rowan’s laugh echoed through the house. Not long after he arrived and placed the plates on the coffee table and passed one to Aelin. She placed it on her belly and smiled at him “my bump is the perfect tray.” Rowan scoffed and went back to his lunch “I was thinking something…” “That’s dangerous.” “Hear me out.” “Go on.” Said Aelin taking another bite of the amazing stir fry he had made. “I was thinking that once we are in the new house we could invite your mother to stay with us for a while.” He stopped with a finger as soon as he noticed she was poised to fight him “I need to be at the bookstore. But I don’t like the idea of leaving you at home alone. I can take the odd day off but there is a lot I have to do and I can’t dump everything on Lys. If you mother is here she could help. And when the twins come… she could help us a bit more. I have read all those books on parenting, but reading and doing it’s not the same and I don’t want to mess up, So…” “I think it’s a great idea.” Aelin admitted looking at him “Mum has already offered to help and she’d be happy to come here.” “You are not mad.” “Why would I? I agree. You need to go back to work. I am the one stuck at home. And mom will be able to help with the twins.” “Okay. Good.” And he smiled relived. When Aelin eventually fell asleep on the sofa later on he placed a blanket on her and lifted her feet on the sofa so that she would be in a comfortable position. He stroked her hair and the her bump “You three rest.” And in silence he went back packing.

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charincharge · 4 years

Text

Cruel Summer, Part 20

cruel summer masterlist

AN: This was supposed to be ready hours ago. SORRY. Only five chapters to go. Have I mentioned how much I appreciate all of you who read, reblog and review this? It has seriously brightened up a shitty time in my life.

Rowan feels like he’s barely slept when Aelin’s alarm goes off. He grumbles and pulls her closer, so he can bury his face into her shoulder, away from the thick rays of sunshine pouring through her window. “No…” he groans.

“Yes,” Aelin laughs as she turns over to face him. Her finger traces over his lips, and he kisses it softly. Her eyes lock with his, and he can’t help the warmth that blooms in his chest at her staring.

“What?” he asks, kissing her finger again. Her eyes flit across his face, observing him closely.

“You’re pretty in the morning,” she says, and Rowan narrows his eyes at her.

“Pretty?” he asks, incredulous. She nods and giggles quietly as Rowan climbs on top of her, pinning her hands beside her head on the mattress. “I’ll show you pretty…” he growls. His lips dive onto her neck, and he can feel her laughter against his chest.

They both hear her door open and slam at the same time. They freeze, their heads turning in the direction of the noise, praying against all odds that it isn’t one of Aelin’s parents.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

Dorian stands with his back pressed against Aelin’s door, his hand covering his face again. Rowan sighs a breath of relief and rolls off the bed. He can’t believe how close that came to being a nightmare. They really need to be more careful. He grabs his work uniform, which is crumpled on the floor and pulls his pants on quickly.

“Dor?” Aelin asks from under her covers. “Why are you in my room?”

“I volunteered to wake you up,” he says, eyes still closed. “I had a feeling. Your entire family is downstairs. It’s Saturday, remember?”

“Shit,” Aelin mumbles as she rushes to her closet and throws on shorts and a tank top.

Rowan looks at the clock. Thirty minutes until works starts. And he has no idea how he’s going to escape this house with Aelin’s entire family downstairs. It’s not like he can climb out her window – he’d be spotted in a second.

Dorian finally cracks his eyes open and sees that everyone is fully dressed and relaxes slightly. He nods to Rowan, who nods back uncomfortably.

As they exchange hellos, Aelin heads straight into her bathroom and plugs in her curling iron. Rowan stands in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. He shoves his hands into his pockets and watches as Aelin starts wrapping her hair around the hot metal rod. She examines her bruise in the mirror and dabs some makeup over it with her free hand.

“Dor?” Aelin calls from the bathroom. “Can you tell my family that I am curling my hair, but I will meet them at the park shortly?” She pokes her head out of the bathroom. “Just, get them out of the house quickly. Please,” she implores him with wide eyes, and Dorian salutes her and takes off.

By the time Aelin’s hair is curled, and her family has officially left the premises, Rowan has about five minutes to make it to work. He kisses Aelin and makes a mad dash for the park.

“See you there,” Aelin calls out after him as he takes off into a quick sprint. His cross-country skills are put to the test as his feet sink through the sand with every step. By the time he reaches the park entrance, he’s only one minute late. He’s impressed with himself.

Breathing hard, he slows to a brisk walk, making his way through the throngs of crowds lined up to get in.

Rowan pauses, his brain finally catching up to him, and looks around. The park is packed. Shockingly crowded.

The line of cars to enter the park is so long, it extends past the parking lot and onto the street, and at the front gate, a hefty crowd is gathered, waiting to get in.

“What the fuck?” Rowan mumbles to himself.

Inside the park, a very stressed out Lorcan mans the admissions booth with Fenrys. “Rowan!” he calls out. “You’re here! Come help us.”

Rowan apologizes for being late, but Lorcan just attributes it to the long line of cars and waves Rowan off. He’s just grateful for the help.

As Rowan starts handing out tickets and wristbands, he finally asks Lorcan what the hell is going on. Apparently, the park was featured on some big reality show called Hometown Hotspots earlier in the week, and the park is seeing the after effects. Lorcan has never been more stressed. He’s not exactly a people person, and these people are impatient, entitled, and anxious to get into the park. Rowan feels for him.

The overflow of people is never ending, and Rowan ends up staying at admissions until well into the afternoon. He barely has time to even think about missing Aelin, being kept so busy. Until, finally, he checks his phone during his lunch break and sees he has a slew of texts from her.

WHOA, what’s up with these crowds???

You were so busy this morning, you didn’t even see me come in! Luckily, Fenrys was far more cordial ;)

Rowan glares at Fenrys, who eats his lunch across the table from him. He can’t believe he didn’t’ even see Aelin enter the park.

Lys wants me to tell you that she knows this is not a curler burn. *facepalm*

Gavin heard your name and got excited, and now my family is insisting you join us for dinner.

You’re going to go down in history as being Gavin’s favorite person ever, just for buying him cotton candy that ONE TIME.

Rowan can’t help but smile at this phone screen, despite how tired he already is. He texts back quickly.

I’ll be there.

At the last second, he adds a red heart emoji and sends it. He’s never been an emoji person before, mostly using texting for utilitarian purposes only. But with Aelin, he can’t help himself. It’s silly, he knows. But the red heart sitting in his texts is his silent way of opening up more. Of silently insinuating the three words he’s tried to push to the back of his head and not let overtake his thoughts. He smiles when Aelin immediately returns his text with three kissing face emojis.

He must be smiling like a mad man, because Lorcan chuckles loudly as he takes a seat next to Rowan and asks, “How’s your girlfriend?”

Rowan’s smile disappears as Fenrys perks up from across the table. “You have a girlfriend?”

“Uhh… no… not really…” Rowan fumbles his words.

Lorcan senses his mistake and flashes Rowan and apologetic glance.

But Fenrys is undeterred. “I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me, Rowan,” Fenrys pouts, sounding all of his young age. “So… who is she? Townie? Someone who works here? Rich summer home crowd?”

“Someone way out of your league, kiddo,” Lorcan says, slapping his large hand onto Fenrys’s shoulder. His voice is gruff, but Rowan sees the hears the affection in his tone. He weirdly feels like he’s turned a corner with Lorcan. Maybe they could even be friends.

“It’s nothing,” Rowan assures Fenrys, who still looks on with hopeful eyes, begging for scraps of information. “It’s super low key, so we haven’t gone public, or whatever.”

“Then how come Lorcan knew?” His whining would be almost comical if Rowan didn’t want to exit the conversation so badly.

Luckily, Lorcan saves him. “Caught them in the break room the other night.” He pauses. “Which, no one should be doing, by the way.”

“What should we not be doing?” Elide asks, entering with a giant funnel cake in her hands. She’s followed by Connall and Vaughan and Gavriel, which means that Rowan’s lunch break is up. He groans. He’s not ready to deal with those crowds again. And if the group’s faces are any indication, nothing has slowed in the minutes he took off to eat. Elide looks exhausted.

“Making out in the break room,” Rowan laughs.

“Oh please,” Elide scoffs. “What do you think Lorcan and I do every night when you guys leave?” Elide wiggles her eyebrows at Lorcan, who turns bright red. His hands tug at his long hair, unsure what to do with himself. Rowan can tell he wants to be mad at Elide, but he thinks Lorcan is physically incapable of actually getting angry with her.

“Ellie,” he whines, but she just giggles as she stuffs a piece of funnel cake into her mouth. Her lips become coated in powdered sugar, and she purses her lips and motions to Lorcan.

“Come get some sugar.” She winks, and Lorcan looks conflicted as he looks at her lips and everyone else in the room. Ultimately, Elide’s lips win, and Lorcan leans down and gives her a quick kiss as everyone else in the room whoops. His entire body is flushed as he narrows his eyes at the bystanders.

“Not a word,” he warns.

Fenrys sighs loudly. “Man, did everyone get a girlfriend this summer but me?” he asks. Connall and Vaughan sit down next to him, and as the conversation turns to summer gossip, Rowan extracts himself and heads to the kiddie section of the park, where he’ll be on rotation all afternoon.

The rest of the day is even more miserable than the first half. Children are crying, upset with waiting for hours and missing their nap times; Rowan sympathizes – he’d love a nap, too. The crowds become angrier the longer they have to wait, and Rowan realizes the park is not equipped for this many people. They have no idea how to manage the crowds. And he almost witnesses a full on riot when one of the food stands runs out of ice cream bars. It’s a mess.

Somehow, he manages to keep his cool with the angry patrons, and he practically runs back to the Ashryvers’ as soon as the day is finished.

The entire family, plus Dorian, sits outside on their back patio as Emrys brings out platters of food, which smell absolutely delicious. Fleetfoot waits happily under the table, tail wagging, ready for scraps to fall. Rowan’s stomach rumbles as he approaches, seeing the spread of salads, biscuits and corn on the cobb.

“Wine?” Aelin offers him a large glass, and Rowan accepts it happily.

Gavin runs straight for his legs and wraps his tiny arms around them. He pats the top of the small boy’s head, unable to interact much more than that in his current state of exhaustion.

“Oh, sweetie, I can get you a beer, if you prefer,” Evalin says, but Rowan shakes his head and takes a large sip of the cold wine. “You look utterly exhausted.” She holds out a chair, and Rowan slinks into it without a second thought.

“The park was…” Rowan begins, but he stops himself short, not wanting to insult his bosses. Aelin sees it in his face.

“A nightmare?” Rhoe laughs. “We know.” He fills his own glass again. “We left early in the afternoon. We were not ready for those crowds.”

Evalin sighs. “The board is meeting about it tomorrow. We need to come up with some kind of solution other than hiring people to help with the parking lot. Luckily, this summer is almost over. But if this is how it is next summer… We need to get organized.”

Rowan thought the same thing throughout the day, but he’s unsure if he should bring up his suggestion. He knows his opinion likely holds no weight with this family, despite how outwardly friendly they are to him.

“Have you ever been to Disneyland?” Rowan asks, deciding to speak up after all.

“The competition?” Evalin raises an eyebrow, and Rowan becomes slightly self-conscious. He takes another sip of his wine. But Evalin cracks a smile, clearly teasing him, and Rowan relaxes. “I’m kidding. Yes, we’ve been there. But not since Aelin was nearly a baby.” Evalin smiles wider, staring at her daughter. “All Aelin wanted to do was to meet Mickey. It’s all she talked about the entire trip. We waited for over two hours to meet him, and when we got to the front, she screamed bloody murder. Just cried and cried…”

Aedion laughs loudly. “Oh my god, I remember that. She was terrified of him.”

Aelin frowns. “Okay, when you’re a toddler and you love Mickey, you expect him to be the size of a mouse, not a GIANT.” She shudders. “I still don’t like the characters.”

Rowan laughs and rubs her arm reflexively. He only realizes what he’s done when Dorian catches his eye. He pulls his hand away quickly, and prays no one noticed. Aelin seems unfazed as she sips more of her wine.

“A-anyway,” Rowan continues, “I know Disney is very different from Playland, but… the one thing they’re great at is crowd control.”

Rhoe and Evalin nod in agreement, so Rowan continues.

“Besides hiring people to direct car traffic and foot traffic, which, is definitely an important part of it – I think they really got a handle on things when they created their app,” he explains. “It’s an interactive map of the park where you can check ride wait times, see the daily schedule, preorder food, make reservations…” Rowan looks around the table and notices all eyes are on him, listening with rapt attention. “Playland isn’t big enough to need all of that, but it couldn’t hurt to have some of it. Everyone loves an app.”

“That’s not a terrible idea.” Evalin looks to Rhoe.

Lysandra turns toward Rowan and narrows her eyes. “Rowan, weren’t you telling us you used to work as a programmer for a start up?” she asks, and Rowan nods uncomfortably. He doesn’t like this many eyes on him. Especially when he’s talking about himself.

“You did?” Rhoe asks.

“Yeah. Not for very long,” Rowan admits. “The start up went under pretty quickly. Bad investors.” He pauses, then continues. “But I did computer engineering for the Army before then. I could make you a mock up, if you wanted?”

“That is very sweet to offer,” Evalin says, her voice sounding too saccharine to Rowan’s ears. “But I don’t think we’re anywhere near that step yet.”

Rowan smiles, but he can’t help but feel like he’s been blown off. He should have known they only see him as park staff. He does appreciate Lysandra taking him seriously, though.

The conversation dies down as Emrys brings out a large plate of brightly colored lobsters. Rowan can count the amount of times he’s had lobster on one hand. It’s a delicious luxury, one that Rowan absolutely loves, but is completely inexperienced with. He watches Aelin pull the claws with a slight twist away from the body and crack the shell, pulling the meat out. He mimics her actions, but somehow ends up crushing the shell into multiple pieces with his clumsy fingers.

As Aelin dips her piece into butter and drops it into her mouth, she sees Rowan’s struggle and leans over to help.

“Here,” she whispers as she takes her knife and cracks open the knuckles for him. He feels like a child. In fact, he notices Lysandra doing the same thing for Gavin and Evie.

“I can do it,” he protests, but Aelin has already finished cracking it for him. He sighs as she moves to twist off the tail, hoping his cheeks aren’t red with the embarrassment he feels.

His embarrassment fades quickly, though, when he sees Evalin reaching over to do the same thing to Rhoe’s lobster. Rowan looks at Aelin, who doesn’t seem to realize she’s completely mirroring her parents’ behavior and smiles behind the rim of his wine glass, which has been magically refilled.

Dinner is just as delicious as Rowan hoped it’d be, and by the end of the night he’s feeling sated and sleepy and buzzed on wine. Evalin tells him he should spend the night, since he’s not safe to drive yet, but Rowan can’t actually justify wearing his gross uniform again tomorrow. And as loathe as he is to spend a night away from Aelin, he knows he needs to go home.

“I can stay for another hour or so and sober up and then head home,” Rowan says, but his large yawn gives away his current state of fatigue.

“We can give you a ride if you want?” Lysandra offers, and Aedion readily agrees, but Rowan isn’t sure how he’d get to work the next morning without his truck.

“Fireheart, are you sober?” Rhoe asks, and Aelin nods. Rowan did notice she stopped drinking after her first glass of wine. He should have, too, but she just kept refilling it. It barely takes Rowan a second to realize that Aelin was trying to get him drunk, trying to get him to stay over. He shakes his head, sorry for her failed efforts.

“Why don’t you drive Rowan home, and then you can take an Uber back home?”

Aelin agrees, and says she’ll be quiet coming back in, in case her parents are asleep. After a round of goodbyes, Aelin and Rowan walk back to his truck where it’s still in the far corner of the Playland parking lot.

He tosses her the keys and watches as she moves her hand over the gears. As they drive, Rowan realizes he’s never seen Aelin behind the wheel before, and there’s something incredibly sexy about watching her maneuver his giant truck. By the time they reach Rowan’s street, Rowan can’t wait any longer. As soon as Aelin parks, he pulls her over to his lap and kisses her.

She squeals as he plants sloppy kisses on her face. Their kisses become more heated as it continues, so much that the windows start to steam up. His hands roam across her back and slide up her tank top, relishing in her bare skin. He just wants her all the time. Always.

Aelin pulls away and smiles. “I thought you were tired.”

“I am,” Rowan admits through another yawn. “That’s why if you come up, you’re going to have to do all the work.”

Aelin snorts, making Rowan laugh. It’s the cutest thing in the world. When she snorts. No other girl could make snorting cute, but Aelin somehow manages to.

“This is what you get for getting me drunk,” he says, letting her know he was well aware of her plan.

Aelin snickers as she opens the door and slides off his lap. She pulls on his arms, and Rowan stumbles out of the cab. And when they get upstairs, Aelin shows Rowan she’s more than happy to do all the work, and then some.

Rowan’s drunk heart feels like it’s going to explode as she moves on top of him, and he has to physically stop himself from saying the three words he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about all day. I love you, he thinks to himself. I never want you to leave. I want to be with you forever.

His resistance snaps. He’s too tired, too ready to put his entire heart into this thing. The lid he’s tried so carefully to keep on his feelings, explodes. The dam bursts, crumbling and cracking under the weight of his emotions, and he lets them tumble out, spilling everywhere, coating his skin where she touches him. He is lost to her, and he’s ready to burn.

~*~*~*~*~

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Text

Sweet

A/N: I've been working on this for a while. Hope you like it:)

Warnings: violence, fighting, brief mentions of Deckard Shaw with a thigh holster

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Deckard Shaw proposes

Nothing really scared Deckard Shaw. After years and years of carnage and bloodshed, he’d grown accustom to what others would call horrors.

However, the sight of you angry at him terrified him.

Your jaw was locked tightly, your darkened eyes avoiding him as you worked on getting together what you could find to patch him up. A first-aid kit had practically been thrown on to the table beside him, along with a few towels.

You pulled a chair around the small table to his side. You brushed your hair over one shoulder as you sat down. He watched you with a guarded look, unsure of just what you were planning. You leaned across the table to get the first-aid kit.

“Say something, sweet.” He urged quietly.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You were beyond angry. You were furious. Why was he so stupid? Why couldn’t he just stick to the plan?

“You always have something to say.” Deckard rolled his eyes. You took the hem of his shirt and easily ripped the material so that you’d have access to the two bullet wounds on his torso. “Could’ve just asked me to take my shirt off for ya, sweet.”

“I’m not in the mood, Deckard.” You flicked a light on and waved the flame underneath a pair of tweezers. He looked away from you for a moment and across the hotel room. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah, I know.” He muttered.

“Good.”

“You remind me every day.”

“Shut up and be still.” You leaned forward to retrieve the bullet embedded just below his left clavicle.

“You sure you don’t wanna cut me open a little more-,”

“Don’t tempt me, Deckard.”

Silence fell between you both as you worked to get the wound patched up. He winced just slightly at the stinging sensation. You pulled the first bullet out and placed it on a gauze pad on the table.

“You’re never this quiet.” He commented before grinding his teeth together. You gave him no warning as you started digging around for the second bullet just between his ribcage and his hip.

“If I talk right now, Deckard, it’s only going to end with me leaving.”

“You’re not going anywhere. It isn’t safe.”

“You don’t get to tell me shit about what is and isn’t safe.” You pulled the last bullet from his body and threw it and the tweezers down on the table. You were less than gentle with patching him up, letting just how angry you were seep through into how you were acting. This showed Deckard just how upset you were with his how he had been earlier today. You didn’t intentionally hurt him, but you weren’t gentle with him either.

You stood to your feet and started to leave when a hand latched on to your wrist. Deckard was on his feet and pulling you back to him in a heartbeat.

“Let me go, Deckard.��

“Not a chance, sweet.” He shook his head, looking down at you with a soft gaze. He opened his mouth to apologize but you started speaking first.

“I’m done with this, Deckard.” You ripped your hand out of his grip and took a step away from him, shaking your head as you fought the tears in your eyes. A lump began to form in your throat, threatening to take your ability to speak.

“The hell are you talking about, Y/N?”

“I’m done with you putting your life on the line for me way more than you need to! I am done with you thinking I’m incapable of fighting my own fights-,”

“I know you can fight, Y/N-,”

“You say that, but your actions today say otherwise.” You shook your head. “I’m not going to watch you kill yourself because you think I’m some damsel in distress all the time.”

Before he could say anything, your phone buzzed on the table. You moved past him to pick it up.

“What?” You snapped.

“It’s me.” Letty spoke. “Tej has eyes on your hotel. There’s MI-6 agents outside getting ready to storm in after you two.”

“Of course there are.” You sighed out, fighting the urge to throw your phone across the room. “Thanks, Letty.” You hung up and tucked your phone into your jacket.

“I really don’t like you playing nice with them, you know.” Deckard commented as you started for the door.

“And right now, I really don’t like you. Put a shirt on. MI-6 is getting ready to come.”

“Where are you going?” Deckard picked up a black long sleeve and tugged it into place.

“Wherever you aren’t.” You didn’t even make it two steps down the hallway before he had his hand on your arm, pulling you back to him. “Get your damn hand off of me, Deckard, before I put another bullet in you.”

He held your hard gaze before letting you go.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight, Y/N. Not until we fix this.”

“Sorry to interrupt your little moment, love birds.” Hobbs spoke as he and Roman jogged down the hallway. Where they came from, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t really care either.

“We don’t have time to fight now.” You called over your shoulder to Deckard as you started for the elevator at the end of the hall. “But once we get somewhere safe, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“I’m looking forward to it, sweet.” Deckard glared at Hobbs, who stopped by your side at the elevator. He never liked how you were relatively close to the D.S.S. agent. Friends weren’t something you made easily, your trust was something you did just give out to anyone. Only a small handful of people had earned the rare title of being your ally. Luke Hobbs was one of them.

“You two okay?” Hobbs whispered to you.

“You don’t care.” You let out a sigh, rolling your head from side to side. “You can’t stand him.”

“No, but I can put up with you.” He teased lightly and winked at you. You cracked a little smile, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Deckard. Even if he hadn’t been the one to make the smile happen, he was glad that someone made you smile. At least you weren’t pissed at everyone.

“So if you two don’t work out, baby doll, you think we still have a chance?” Roman casually leaned against the wall next to you. Since you two had met a little less than a year ago, he’d been playfully flirting with you and once in a while, you’d humor him and flirt back.

Sometimes this drove Deckard insane, especially when he knew you were doing it to make him mad. But it never made him jealous. He knew you’d never leave him for another man. Still, Deckard didn’t like it. You were his.

The brutish ex-military man drew the gun from the holster on his thigh and clicked the safety off. Roman noticed this and stiffened up. You paid no attention to your boyfriend, knowing he wouldn’t do anything-unless Roman acted on his words. Roman Pierce was mostly talk.

“Oh, baby.” You feigned a pout, putting your hand on Roman’s arm. “We never had a chance.”

Deckard smirked from his place behind the trio, pride taking him over. Roman put his hand over his heart.

“That’s cold, baby.”

The elevator doors finally opened and you froze. Half a dozen MI-6 agents in tactical gear were in the elevator.

Deckard grabbed your arm and pulled you into his chest, then threw himself against the wall. Roman and Hobbs dove against the opposite wall, evading the rain of bullets. The doors closed almost as quickly as they had opened. You looked around, confused. What just happened?

“You’re welcome.” Tej’s voice came over the earpiece you forgot you were wearing. “Now quit standing there and get your asses moving please!”

“Thanks, Tej.” Hobbs moved away from the wall.

“That was great.” Roman’s breathing was labored from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You pushed yourself away from the wall and out of Deckard’s arms.

“The elevator’s not going anywhere.” You observed. The numbers above the doors still said the box was on your floor. “Can you move it down on floor, Tej? Keep the doors shut.”

“Of course I can do that.” You could hear him roll his eyes.

“That’s not going to help us with anything, Y/N.” Hobbs said. “We’re still stuck in a hotel full of agents who now-thanks to you two-think I’m a bad guy.”

“It’s not our fault you affiliate yourself with us.” Deckard stubbornly crossed his arms.

“Open the doors for me, Hobbs.” You ignored them and gestured to the sealed elevator doors.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” Deckard muttered as Hobbs moved towards the doors.

“Because you’re still bleeding.” You glanced over your shoulder to him, briefly glancing over him to make sure he was okay.

“What’s your plan, Y/N?” Roman asked you as he went to stand next to Hobbs. The doors had been pried open and the large man was currently holding them open.

“Ride the elevator down. When we get to the ground, we have a better chance of fighting our way out.”

“Good thinking.” Hobbs complimented.

“Yeah, well I’m pretty positive I’m the only one who has a brain out of the four of us.” You slipped underneath one of his arms and wrapped your hands around the think steel wire holding the elevator up. You supported your weight with your hands until you could get your legs wrapped around the cable. From there, you could slide down and quietly land on the elevator car.

You looked back up to the boys, placing your index finger over your lips to signal them to be quiet. Roman was next. His landing would’ve been rough had you not grabbed his jacket to steady him on his feet. Deckard was after him. Even with his injuries, he made it down with ease. Hobbs was last. You moved to one of the sides of the car, careful not to let anything of yours touch the walls.

“Okay, Tej. Take us to the ground.” You told him, putting your hand up to your ear. Deckard watched you for a few moments, his piercing blue eyes studying you carefully. You knew he wanted to say something about the conversation you’d had earlier but he wasn’t going to, not with two sets of ears in the room.

Once the elevator hit the floor, you decided you were going to be the one to take out the MI-6 agents in the elevator. You ordered Tej not to open the doors yet. You needed to keep everything confined. You worked better in small spaces.

“Come on, Y/N. Let me go with you.” Hobbs didn’t like the idea of you going down there alone with six heavily armed men.

“No offense, big guy, but you take up more space.” You tied your hair back into a ponytail and rolled your shoulders.

Your eyes flickered to Deckard. He was silent but his eyes spoke a thousand words. He wasn’t happy. He wanted to argue with you, to tell you that it was ridiculous for you to go in alone when you had three, scratch that, two abled bodies to go in with you. Roman was just there to provide any distractions. Fighting wasn’t his thing. But after hearing that you were ready to leave him earlier, Deckard knew it would be better for him to shut up and let this go than to fight it. You were a big girl. You could handle yourself. You knew your boundaries.

You looked to Hobbs and nodded your head once. He pulled the hatch open and you jumped down into the elevator car, on to the agent directly below you. He collapsed under your sudden weight on him. You pulled the baton from his waist and turned to hit the agent right behind you. The space was too restricting for them to use the big guns they had in their hands. You had the advantage, and you knew this. You smirked as you spun around and caught another agent in the side of the neck right where his protective gear ended. He cried out at the pain.

Arms wrapped around you, pinning your arms to your sides. You gritted your teeth together and threw yourself back before throwing yourself forward, The sudden shift in weight caught the agent holding you off guard. He stumbled forward, releasing you as he toppled over you. You caught yourself on your hands and knees. Using this new position, you swiped your leg out to kick the agent to your right as hard as possible in his knee then again in his stomach when he collapsed to his knees.

Someone grabbed your ponytail. This made you livid. You couldn’t stand when people grabbed your hair. Ignoring the stinging pain, you rolled over on to your back and managed to put yourself underneath the man kneeling behind you. You wrapped your legs around his head, not shying away from suffocating him with your thighs. You grabbed his hand as he tried to grab your thighs and pull you away from him. You twisted his arm painfully until you heard a snap and he let out a high-pitch yelp. While you did this, you noticed another agent reaching for his taser. You moved out of the way just as the agent reached down to tase you.

He was suddenly thrown across the small room. You looked up to see Hobbs standing over you.

“I had it under control.” You growled, bringing your elbow down to connect with the face of the agent between your legs. He fell unconscious. While Hobbs ensured the rest of the agents weren’t going to get up any time soon, you pushed the agent off of you and stood to your feet.

“I just helped you out a little-,”

“I don’t need your help.” You cut him off. Deckard and Roman jump down from the top of the car, the latter landing less than elegantly. “Tej, open the doors.”

“Okay, but I’m gonna warn y’all. There’s a bunch of trouble-,”

“Just do it!” You yelled. You were itching to fight, the anger boiling in your veins making you a danger to anyone around you.

You pulled picked up two batons and twirled them in your hands, the corner of your lips pulling up in a devilish smirk.

***

You weren't sure how the fire in the bar of the hotel started. You were too focused on fighting the armed operatives trying to stop you. You'd lost your jacket amidst a fight with a female agent and your shirt was torn. Your hair began to fall from the ponytail. You were exhausted. Your body ached and the number of cuts and bruises were increasing steadily. Not to mention the fire alarms were going off and the sprinklers decided to soak you. What was left of your shirt clung to your torso.

Roman and Hobbs had managed to get to the doors. You couldn't see Deckard but you guessed he also made it out.

You flipped a table and took cover behind it just before bullets flew your way. Instinctively, you flinched from the impact of the bullets on the wooden table top.

The echoing bangs stopped and for a moment. You spotted a pistol just out of reach. Knowing it was probably a bad choice, you dove out of the safety of the overturned table and grabbed the weapon. You turned and in the same instant, cocked the hammer, putting a bullet in the chamber. With your thumb hovering over the trigger, you stared down the gun at Deckard.

"It's only me, dove." He breathed out, holding his hands up to prove he meant no harm. He was battered and bruised, blood trickling from a wound on his temple.

You put the gun down, letting out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, and looked around the room. You two were the only ones standing.

"You good?" He asked, taking a few steps towards you. You nodded, glancing down to gun in your hands. This was it. "Come on. We need to go-,"

"I'm not going with you, Deckard." You put the safety on and tucked the gun into the back of your pants. Who knew if you'd need it later.

"We don't have time for you to be dramatic, Y/N-,"

"I told you I'm not doing this." You shook your head softly. Your throat began to burn and your nose started to itch. "I could've lost you today, Deckard." Your voice lowered to a broken whispered.

Deckard glanced over his shoulder, letting out a small groan of disapproval for what he was about to do. He'd wanted to wait until a more romantic moment, a moment when he'd planned everything out. As he turned back to you, he ran his hand over his face.

"Your the best thing that's ever happened to me, Y/N." His voice was quiet, curling his fingers into fists by his sides. "I'd kill for you."

"I know." A soft little smile crossed your lips. He'd done in numerous times before. Deckard Shaw would move mountains and raise hell for you.

"It's hard for me to see you do what I do, sweet. I can see one wrong move you make and you.... You're dead, sweet." He whispered. His fingers uncurled. He brushed his thumb across his fingertips.

"It makes me feel like you think I'm incapable of holding my own. You think I'm weak."

"Sweet, you're the strongest person I know. You've put up with my ass for years."

You laughed gently. Deckard carefully watched you. The anger in your eyes had dissipate.

"Marry me, sweet."

Your lips parted as you stared across the room at the man before you. Your heart was still thumping from adrenaline, but now a new found rhythm began. You started to speak but the sprinklers stopped and the fire alarms went out. You briefly glanced to the ceiling before looking back to Deckard.

There you both stood, covered in blood, bruises, and wounds. Your clothes were soaked from the sprinklers. You looked like a wreck but somehow he didn't look too affected by all the fighting he'd been doing. Maybe it was just the fact that his shirt was still in tact while yours was ripped and revealing your black bra. The scene wasn't ideal. No one in their right mind would choose to propose in a room full of bodies, some of which were not living.

But this was yours and Deckard's life. The chaos was what had brought you two together and together, you survived in the brutal world.

Wordlessly, you crossed the room. When you got to him, you hesitated to put your hands on him, remembering the wounds underneath his shirt. You settled with cupped his jaw in your small hands.

"Yes." You breathed out, a little smile on your lips as you leaned up to kiss him. His arms slipped around your waist. He pulled you closer to him, ignoring the pain in his torso.

"I love you, sweet." Hearing the words for a second time today made your heart soar. Deckard Shaw wasn't one to admit his feelings out loud. You knew how he felt, he expressed his emotions in other ways. But hearing him say it was unlike anything else.

"I love you, Decks."

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1K notes · View notes

fictionturnedherbrain · 3 years

Text

Marguerite

Full name: Marguerite Blakeney, née St Just

Nick-names: Margot; ‘little mother’

Age: 25 (‘scarcely five-and-twenty’, in September 1792)

Born: August 1767

Place of birth: France

Education: Convent school, Paris; travelled to England to study the language

Currently lives: Blakeney Manor, Richmond, England

Height: ‘Tall above the average’, perhaps 5’ 6”; slender, regal figure

Eye colour: A very fluid blue!

Hair colour: Strawberry blonde (‘reddish-golden’, ‘ardent’)

Facial features: ‘Classic brow’, ‘sweet, almost childlike mouth’ with ‘full lips’, ‘straight chiselled nose’, ‘round chin’ and a ‘delicate throat’

Marital status: Wife of Sir Percy Blakeney, Bt. They met at Versailles, during a banquet held for the Flanders regiment on October 3, 1789. Two years later, they were married at the Church of St Roch, Paris, ‘just like that’, ‘without a soirée de contrat or diner de fiançailles’

Family: Brother, Armand St Just (eight years her senior). Parents died when Marguerite was ‘but a child’

Occupation: A gentlewoman. Formerly an actress with the Comédie Française. Also a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel, 1792-1795 (‘You are a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. The most adored. The most revered amongst all’)

Interests: Society hostess (balls, routs, suppers, etc.); music (operas, particularly Glück’s Orpheus); reading (contemporary novels, such as Fielding’s Tom Jones); setting the trend in fashion (‘She wore the short-waisted, classical-shaped gown, which so soon was to become the approved mode in every country in Europe’); the company of her friends, Suzanne Ffoulkes, Juliette Deroulede, Yvonne Dewhurst

Passions: Time alone with her husband (‘Moments like this, when she was alone with him, were the joy of her life’); the late night drives from London to their Richmond home (‘a source of perpetual delight to Marguerite’)

Character: Once an enthusiastic republican and feted actress, courted by men such as the Scarlet Pimpernel’s arch-enemy, Citizen Chauvelin (‘one of the many satellites that revolved around brilliant Marguerite St Just’ ), Marguerite gave all up for love. Yet despite exchanging the Paris stage for London and Bath society, she still holds true to the ideals of the Republic, even after personal experience has made her detest what people will do in the name of liberty. She does not judge by wealth or class, only by individual intelligence and creativity – and how these gifts are utilised. Marguerite is also very impulsive in her actions, and is often guided by instinct, whether wisely or foolishly. She has a passionate and loving nature, dedicating herself wholly to those she cares for – her brother Armand, and her husband, Percy. Her selfless concern for others has on occasion actually imperilled those she would give her life to save, so forceful is her desire to actively protect the people she loves. Her loyalty to her husband, the Scarlet Pimpernel, has never wavered, and has been tested many times. Initially insecure that his love for her, though great, was not as devoted as her own for him (‘He loved her and went away!’), Marguerite has learned to trust in her husband’s seemingly boundless good luck and ingenuity, supporting his dangerous mercy missions instead of trying to hold him back (‘the noble-hearted woman, whose very soul was wrapped up in the idolised husband, allowed herself to ride by his side on the buoyant waves of his enthusiasm’). She has even taken an active role in the League’s adventures, preferring to face her husband’s fate rather than be left without him (“If you go, I go with you”). If she sometimes gives into the emotional strain, and pleads for Percy to put her needs first, it is only because his love has come to shape Marguerite’s life (‘ the one man who had made her so infinitely proud and happy in his love’) ; from a young girl who thought herself incapable of love, and who claimed to have married for wealth and position, she has matured into a woman who is happiest in the company of her husband, and who will suffer any hardship to be with him. Marguerite has suffered greatly since learning of her husband’s dual identity, but she has also found a soul mate and earned the love of a noble-hearted, adventurous, and intense individual - somebody a lot like herself (“Are we not one, you and I?”) She understands that Percy’s honour is bound up in the reputation of the Scarlet Pimpernel, and that the strength of his love for her is proven by his dedication to others: ‘Nay, it intensified it, made it purer and better’.

Marguerite is not unaware of her physical charm, as it has helped to advance her career and attract admirers who flatter her vanity – but how much of her confidence is natural, and how much an act? Does she believe all that people tell her, about her beauty, wit and talent, or is she hiding behind a studied role?

Actress Vs. Child Marguerite definitely has a pampered ego, and will not let her guard down in public. Her republican philosophy that ‘money and titles may be hereditary, but brains are not’ seems to stem from her own self-image, rather than any political influence: she has only equals in society, never betters. When the aristocratic Comtesse de Tournay crosses Marguerite in public, the bourgeois actress regards her with ‘hard, set eyes’. Yet when the Comtesse refuses to let Marguerite speak to daughter Suzanne, a childhood friend of Marguerite’s, a ‘wistful, almost pathetic and childlike look’ replaces the defiant glare. This is Marguerite’s core: the young Mme. St Just within the haughty, practiced Lady Blakeney, and few are allowed to penetrate her perfect facade; only when she is alone can Marguerite relax, like one ‘long oppressed with the heavy weight of constant self-control’.

Love The key to earning Marguerite’s love is to win her trust. For all her brilliance and popularity, the twenty-five year old actress-turned-lady is emotionally insecure; before meeting Sir Percy, she had already consigned herself to a life alone: ‘I naturally believed it was not in my nature to love’. Why should such a beautiful, successful and young woman have closed her heart to happiness? After her rather unexpected and unconventional marriage, it was claimed that Mademoiselle St Just was a ‘brilliant matrimonial prize’ for which ‘there had been many competitors’, and this can be believed – but how many men might have proposed, how far they got, and what happened to them, seems not to have affected Marguerite. Even when speaking of Sir Percy, in the early days of their marriage, she can only say that she would have allowed herself to be ‘worshipped’ and ‘given infinite tenderness in return’; she does not speak of her love for him, because, at that point, she is not able to recognise it in herself (‘A woman’s heart is such a complex problem’).

Marguerite’s concept of love, as with her support of the revolution, is purely idealistic: she has notions of how it should be, but her upbringing has sheltered her from gaining any experience of the realities. Her formative years were spent in a Paris convent, where she was educated alongside the wealthy children of noble families, such as Suzanne de Tournay. After her education (she and Suzanne travelled to England, at one point, to study the language), Marguerite became an actress, making her debut at the Comédie Française when she was eighteen. Yet instead of succumbing to the attentions of male admirers at the theatre and perhaps becoming somebody’s mistress, she seems to have immersed herself in the romance and morality of the plays in which she acted, waiting for a ‘perfect love’ which might not exist. Percy’s slavish devotion to her flattered her vanity, but also appealed to her romantic imagination: when she talks of the Pimpernel, unaware of the connection with her husband, Marguerite reflects that ‘there was a man she might have loved’, the ‘shadowy king of her heart’ so like a character upon the stage in his bravery, chivalry and anonymity. She admits that she was ‘vain and frivolous’, attracted by Percy’s wealth and position, and takes advantage of all the trappings of her new lifestyle when he withdraws his love. Material possessions and a grand home in which to entertain a new court of admirers, however, are only superficial distractions; as Lady Blakeney, Marguerite is ‘lonely in the midst of her grandeur’.

Though praised for her beauty, wit and talent, Marguerite has always felt secretly undeserving and mistrustful of anything more than token flattery. Her vanity can accept compliments with ‘inimitable grace’, but she is wary of having to give anything in return. Though initially attracted to Sir Percy’s ‘curious intensity of concentrated passion’, it is the fact that she perceived him as ‘slow and stupid’ – or safe and submissive – which allowed Marguerite to overcome that main obstacle and agree to marriage. A clever or busy man would soon tire of Marguerite’s charms, her looks and her witty conversation, but she believed that an unquestioning slave such as Sir Percy would always worship her as a goddess, and bend to her will – which she accepted as no more than her due.

When Percy rejects her as soon as she becomes his wife, Marguerite is lost. She is ‘grateful’ to him, for his generosity, unceasing civility and polite attentions, but cannot comprehend the change in his attitude towards her. Loneliness, fear and a bruised ego cause her to defend herself in the only safe way she knows – by hiding her feelings behind a mask, and acting the role of her own life: ‘she, too, had worn a mask in assuming a contempt for him’. To maintain her dignity in public, and to try and rouse a strong reaction from her husband in private, Marguerite takes to mocking Sir Percy, who has similarly retreated behind the guise of society fop: she tries to ‘goad him to self-assertion’; ‘even amused herself by sharpening her ready wits at his expense’. When he merely accepts her taunts, she tries to stir his jealousy by flirting with other men, but Percy leaves her alone to do as she wishes, ‘to flirt, dance, to amuse or bore herself as much as she liked’, such is his pain over her apparent deception. Marguerite, like a vindictive child, wants to hurt her husband as much as the unexplained withdrawal of his love has hurt her, and says ‘cruel, insulting things, which she vaguely hoped would wound him’, but it is only her vanity that has been insulted. She assumed, before they married, that he would accept anything she did or said. Burdened with the guilt of her rash act of revenge, Marguerite told Percy of her part in the execution of the St Cyr family, trusting that her ‘boundless power’ over him would suppress his judgement of her, and took his silence as a lack of comprehension. Blinded by his devotion, Marguerite didn’t bother to learn about her husband’s true personality, just as he idolised his own image of her; only when she confronts her husband, after a year of estrangement, does she realise that her initial hesitation in confiding in him shattered his illusion of the ‘angel’ he married. When the permanence of marriage breaks the spell of their brief courtship, they begin to find out who it is they think themselves in love with. Percy learns about Marguerite’s human failings through her denunciation of the Marquis, and Marguerite must accept the exaggerated persona of her husband’s pride as his true self.

Armand ‘Her love for her brother, Armand St Just, was deep and touching in the extreme’: Marguerite is mother, sister, friend to Armand, and because he is the only person she can trust without reserve, ‘whom she dared to love’, the bond between them becomes like a lifeline to her. Losing their parents at a young age blurred the roles of their relationship: Armand, elder by eight years, became a father figure and chaperone to his young sister, and Marguerite, when she was old enough, provided a maternal influence in her brother’s life. Having Armand ‘near her to love and protect her, to guard her from the many subtle intrigues which were raging in Paris’ has obviously been a regulating factor in Marguerite’s unconventional upbringing. It is possible to imagine that he has saved her from her own guileless and impulsive nature, steering her away from unwelcome attentions on more than one occasion. Marguerite is naïve and sensitive beneath her cool attitude and arrogant beauty – she needs the advice of others to help her actively confront difficult situations, otherwise she is content to let events happen to her. And when she does act on impulse, to avenge her brother and her own injured pride, she is blind to the consequences until it is too late. Her denouncement of the treasonous Marquis de St Cyr, an unfortunate combination of her own petty desire for revenge and gullible nature, is the event which separates Marguerite and Percy immediately after their wedding.

Armand’s pivotal role in her life, however, makes Marguerite afraid to release her brother and trust in anybody else. Before he is to return to France, she holds him with ‘sudden strong, almost motherly passion’, and pleads with him that, “I have only you to care for me”, when what she probably means is that she has only Armand to love her. Her protective over-reaction is understandable, considering that Armand’s life is constantly under threat as a citizen of revolutionary France, but neither does Marguerite want to be left ‘alone’. Her brother’s first visit since beginning her new life in England as Lady Blakeney can only have intensified Marguerite’s feelings of loneliness and estrangement as a Frenchwoman in exile; her brother is her ‘home’, a link to the life she left behind. Already convinced that she will never love another being as wholly as she does her brother, ‘the only being in the whole world who has loved me truly and constantly’, her sisterly and maternal concerns for his safety are multiplied by her own fears of losing the last member of her immediate family, and being completely abandoned in a strange country with a husband who is cold towards her. Armand tries to reassure her, understanding ‘the reserve which lurked behind her frank, open ways’, but he is not as dependent upon her as she is with him.

Marguerite reveals to Armand the truth of her marriage, and hints at how unhappy she is in her new life, but her pride will not allow her to break down completely. After only a year apart, Armand finds himself locked out of his sister’s deepest confidence, and has to form his own conclusions based on his understanding of Marguerite’s nature. He realises that she has misjudged and underestimated her husband, not recognising that he could be as proud and headstrong as her until it was too late, and that her bargaining on a ‘fool’ might have been miscalculated. Armand regrets the distance between them, but as Lady Blakeney, she will not let down her guard, even to her brother.

Fate

Until she follows her husband to Paris to save his life, attempting to redeem herself by repairing the consequences of her actions, Marguerite tends to view the choices she makes as being beyond her control: ‘Fate had decided, had made her speak, had made her do a vile and abominable thing’. Without the support of a third party to ‘shift from her young, weak shoulders this terrible burden of responsibility’, Marguerite disassociates herself from her actions, in a defensive bid to spare her conscience: ‘What had she done to have deserved all this?’ Perhaps the greatest example of this is her view of the St Cyr executions, and the extent of her role in their downfall. The Marquis was a traitor to his country, a royalist and an aristocrat seeking military intervention from Austria, and this information was known by other people before Marguerite learned of it ‘amongst her own coterie’, but this doesn’t change the fact that she then, with ‘a few thoughtless words’, denounced the Marquis to the Assembly (probably via Chauvelin). Nor was her desire for retribution motivated by patriotism or political ideals – the Marquis’ crime was personal: ‘what her brother must have suffered in his manhood and his pride must have been appalling; what she suffered through him and with him she never attempted to even analyse’. Still naïve and immature, for all her renowned salon wit, Marguerite failed to foresee the fatal consequences of her actions, although her ‘friends’ were fully aware (‘they trapped and duped me’). ‘Horrified’ at the repercussions of her ‘thoughtlessness’, Marguerite ‘strain[ed] every nerve, us[ed] every influence’ to reverse what she had set in motion and save the St Cyrs, but it was ‘too late’. Satisfied that she had done all she could, Marguerite was able to convince herself that ‘fate had merely stepped in’, and that she was actually ‘morally innocent’. Spiteful, ignorant and easily influenced, she probably didn’t think beyond humiliating the Marquis, who had punished her brother, and therefore insulted her own bourgeois background, for being socially beneath his family – but that she did so in a petty bid for revenge makes Marguerite far from blameless.

Entirely free of false humility, Marguerite is equally aware of her attractions and her failings. She complains to Chauvelin about the incongruence of living in a land of ‘fogs and virtues’, and observes to the Prince of Wales that ‘virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when it is crushed’. Marguerite’s bohemian lifestyle as an actress, earning a living in deception and courted as a republican mascot, contrasts sharply with her strict and pious childhood in the convent, and the dichotomy of the two goes a way towards explaining her liberal yet penitent attitude to life. Whereas there is no doubt that Marguerite enjoys life, as the ‘darling of a brilliant throng, adored, feted, petted, cherished’, with ‘the joy of living writ plainly’ upon her face, her generous and compassionate spirit is easily disturbed by the cruelty and suffering around her. Her cynical wisdom and sharp wit display a pensive and distrustful side to her youthful personality, as she warns her brother that ‘little sins are far less dangerous and uncomfortable’. An ardent supporter of the ‘lofty virtues’ that inspired the Revolution, Marguerite welcomed the new Republic, but when the words and visions of philosophers like Rousseau and Mirabeau were replaced by the harsher realities of violence and executions, she was horrified and quickly abandoned the bloody excesses of France for the security of England.

Class

Marguerite is trapped between social plateaus in ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel’: proclaiming herself a republican with ‘an enthusiasm for liberty and equality’, she is originally from a middle-class background, elevated in her own sphere by her beauty and wit, and then removed from her queenly position in Paris to become a pretender to the aristocracy in England upon her marriage. Sir Percy is a baronet, on the next to the lowest rung of the peerage, but his wealth, good name and novelty value in the Prince of Wale’s court ensure that he is accepted amongst the higher ranks of society (at least two of the League are lords). However, this still makes rather a hypocrite of Marguerite, who, despite professing that ‘money and titles may be hereditary, but brains are not’, seems to enjoy her new status. She accepts ‘jewels and luxuries’ from Sir Percy, in place of affection and a happy marriage, and adapts to the privilege and insularity of English society within a year. At Brogard’s inn, when she and Sir Andrew travel to Calais to warn Percy that Chauvelin is on his trail, Marguerite is disgusted by her fellow ‘citizen’, thoroughly acting the part of the pampered aristocrat as she holds her handkerchief to her ‘dainty nose’ and stares ‘in horror’ at her surroundings.

She and Chauvelin are both idealists, preferring rhetoric to action; when the diplomat seeks to enlist her patriotic assistance in Dover, Marguerite asks, ‘What can I do, here in England?’ Overhearing her confrontation with the haughty Comtesse de Tournay, Chauvelin confronts Marguerite with this typical example of social injustice in the hope that her bruised pride will make her an ally, but Marguerite can defend herself. Instead of betraying the brave Pimpernel to punish the undeserving aristocrats he rescues, such as the de Tournays, Marguerite calls the Comtesse’s bluff with the aid of the Prince of Wales, ‘with a wealth of mischief in her twinkling blue eyes’. As a bourgeois actress, Marguerite has suffered the prejudice and arrogance of the aristocracy, inspiring her faith in the Republican creed of ‘liberty, equality, fraternity’, but her popular reception amongst the London ton, and the Royal protection she enjoys as a friend of the Prince of Wales, tempers her vehemence. Marguerite’s primary motivation is safeguarding the security and happiness of herself and those closest to her: to avenge a brother, she spoke out of spite, and to provide for her future, she turned on her homeland. Money and titles may not matter to Marguerite, but neither will she renounce personal advantages on principle; without ‘her rank, her dignity, her secret enthusiasms’, she is always Marguerite St Just.

#the scarlet pimpernel #marguerite st just #lady blakeney #sir percy blakeney #character study #suzanne de tournay #armand st just #merle oberon #leslie howard

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nightwolf992 · 3 years

Text

【Dance with you forever】

（Bubbline schoolParo）

#This article is translated into English.

Please forgive me that there may be unsmooth situations.

#This is a fabricated world setting.

Monday, sunny,Ooo University General College.

I’m Bonnibel Bubblegum，I have 575 years of experience working as an exchange student everywhere after junior high school.

I am now serving as Sc.D. within Ooo University General College.

After I returned here to teach, I met classmates who met 200 years ago,And then I became her teacher.

At present, I have to deal with this every day, the problems students that are put on me.

“Marceline, how old are you, ? Can you not be doing these things?”

Inside the office，Pink-haired PhD performance unhappy.

A list of troubles caused by the vampire in hand.

“How? Did I bother you? Bonniebel?”

The 1000-year-old childish vampire just stacks her hands on the back of the head and raised his feet to lie back.，And the whole conversation did not “sit” in a chair.

“Uh, yes? You have a lot of trouble to the upper level that I just need to control you. Just because, oh… just because I know you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry? Anyway, If nothing else, I’ll go first, bye!”

“Marceline!”

The vampire has flew out of the office with a fast speed,The doctoral who just stood up had to sit down again and whisper:

“… what exactly should I do.”

Marceline Abadeer,Celebrities and troublesome characters in Ooo University General College.Over 200 years in school.

There’s no big problem with academic performance, But always because of trouble, and cause flunked.

She is good at playing most musical instruments.

She prefers to play bass transformed from axe.

She often holds solo concerts on campus during festivals.

She is currently the subject of special attention of Dr. Bonnibel.

That day is the beginning of the new semester.

This time the vampire sees the familiar name in the course selection form teacher bar.

Breathing under the black hood stopped for a few seconds.

…Bonnibel，Sc.D. .

Although she had no interest in science herself, Marceline still chose that course.

After that, the first lesson of bubblegum started.

Marceline entered the lecture hall after hearing the end of the call 5 minutes after her heard the end of the call.

And the bubblegum on the podium also stopped the computer operation in the hands of the computer, looked at Matherine.

“… how are you here?”

Quiet empty lecture hall can hear bubblegum softly after all the students who ask questions leave.

But that does not have the warmth of the habit of vampire memory… is a hint of disgust.

“As before, I was regraded.”

Faced with questioning, Matherine just responded with a smile.

The face after black hair under the hood, there is so much provocative.

“How did you stay for 200 years? Marceline!”

Bonnie scolded at Marceline,After all, thisguy was Bonnie’s once classmate.

Now she comes back here after her advanced studies, but still sees the vampire that hasn’t changed.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m too cool, BonnieBel.”

And vampires basically don’t look like reflect on something.

“Do you know what you’re talking about? … Use your brain and don’t let eternal life affect your brain function.”

After that, Bonnie left the vampire.

As a 24/7 troublesome student, What to do when your own teacher is a friend of the past?

Noisy her.

Fold your homework into paper airplane,Add ice to her hot tea，When you learned that she was responsible for your trouble, you violated several school rules.

That was fun, ha!

A few months later, Bonniebel couldn’t stand it.

After school Bonnie took Marceline about to the top floor of the school and raged:

“What the hell is going on with you! Marceline!”

The vampire was apparently scared, she asked:

“… what?”

“Oh! Don’t install silly. You know what I’m talking about.”

This response makes Marceline also begin to be unhappy.

“No, I don’t know! I’m sorry, I even forgot why you were away from me like that!

I didn’t do anything wrong, and I didn’t need to prove anything to you, nor did I seek to fix your relationship with me!”

It may be unexpected reaction scared bubblegum,Or the psychological Protection was cracked.

Tears slide down from pink cheeks.

The original clear accent was replaced by a slight cry.

“I… I just want you to be responsible for your life.”

The first time she was attracted to Marceline was at a high school prom.

Bonnie was Coaxed to watch the show in front of the stage by her classmates.

And it happens that the vampire on the stage is so dazzling,Attracted her attention at that time.

Bubblegum had always been addicted to self-learning in the lab.

She asked who the person on stage played music with bass and singing.

When the classmates ridiculed Bonnie was really interested in the performance, Bonnie laughed:

“I just… like her song.”

She no longer wants to handle the classmates.

Bubblegum alone took a cup of soda in the drink bar and relied on the corner.

The spindle of the prom started.

Of course, because Bonnie didn’t even have a dancemate, it was certainly necessary to stay in the corner until the ball was over.

But maybe fate, the noise attracted Bonniebel’s attention.

She saw the long-haired vampire wearing a simple black rock t-shirt, walking and pushing away the Invitation to dance student.

Exactly, their eyes are so opposed to each other.

Marceline smiled and went straight to the bubblegum seat.

The vampire stretched out her hand and invited Bonnie with a gentle voice in the surprise of the crowd.

“Hey, would you dance with me?”

See Bonnie stunned at her, Matherine boldly took up her hand.

“Come on, it would be fun, follow me.”

To be sure, Bonniebel went through anunforgettable and happy prom.

And, after that, they also slowly get closer and closer.

“I’m curious, what Marcy was doing in the 700 years before high school?”

“Uh… strictly speaking, I was educated at home and just forgot to report applying for a curriculum planning review, so come to school to rebuild a degree.”

“Oh my glob, is so unexpected.”

They often spend time together in each other’s dormitories, Sometimes when Bonnie is studying seriously, Marceline intentionally plays a sharp voice to disturb Bonnie,But it doesn’t really make Bonnie angry.

But, in the fourth year of college, there was a little subtle difference.

Bonniebel is perfect .

Few people in the world have such an excellent qualification, It is even less likely that there are people who work as important advisers in various associations.

She loves to learn, like things like science like Marceline is not good at.

The fifth year of college was busy, Bonnie was no longer available to spend time with Marceline.

Marceline doesn’t know why, why BonnibelBubblegum no longer cares about MarcelineAbadeer.

After a day of music practice,she tries to tease bubblegum as before.

She hoped that bubblegum smiled at her joke as before, Then they can discuss the melody she just discovered today.

“Oh! Marceline! Can you not be like a jerk?Do you feel like a waste of life with you can bring any positive help to my life?

You are noisy in my ear like a terrible monster, which makes me totally incapable of focusing.”

If we could calm down and communicate well, we might not have developed like that.

However, things are still going in a bad direction.

Matherine modified the melody of the practice at that time.

In front of many strangers, she humiliated bubble gum with very damaging lyrics.

She finally remembered that the sound of bubblegum became trembling,And said, “Fine, we’re done.” Then run away.

The scene is only left to take pictures, videos, noisy ready to send social software onlookers.

After that they went through a long cold war until Marceline saw bubblegum again.。

“I’m sorry, Marceline.

I was stressful, and I thought it would be better to focus on my work.

But my mood is still a mess.

I tried it, I really tried it.

And I just hurt you again.”

See the reaction of bubblegum, Marceline was busy wiping out Bonnie’s tears with his fingers and comforting.

“Hey hey! It’s okay, don’t cry… Oh!”Bubblegum hugging Matherine, buried in the clothes sound can be heard:

“I’m sorry.”

“So… it’s okay now, right?”

“Yes…I’m OK now.”

After a few minutes, they sat on the top floor guardrail, relying on each other, looking at the campus where the sky gradually darkened.

“Hey, Marcy. I care why you still stay here? For what?”

Hear that, Marceline blushes down, and then whispered:

“Because you said you wanted to come here as a teacher after the follow-up course. I waited for you a long time.”

“… what?”

“I miss you so much, I’m… I’m sorry. Bonnie.”

“… it’s okay.”

Marceline has always rarely attended the prom as a regular student.

But this time is special, this time, They hold hands.

“You’re finally going to graduate, are you?”

“Haha, after all, there is no reason not to graduate, isn’t it?”

Marceline is happy to face the joke of bubblegum.

She never thought she could fix her relationship with Bonnie.

Everything stays, But it still changes

“Yeah, but you still have a choice here.”

“What?”

“I mean, you can come with me, don’t you?”

“I? I never thought about being a teacher. Are you sure the big trouble at school can be a teacher? I am very bad—?”

Bonnie pushed Marceline and told her to stop kidding.

And gently kissed Marceline.

“You can, I believe you.”

“Wow, Bonnie, you got bold.”

They smiled somewhat shy at each other.

“Hey, Bonnie, want to dance with me?”

“Of course, I thought you wouldn’t invite me like this anymore.”

“You think too much, I will always invite you to dance forever.”

Will happen, happening, happened

Will happen, happening, happened.

And will happen again and again,Cause you and I will always be back then.

【END】

#adventure time #marceline #princess bubblegum #bubbline

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 4 years

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I have a silly Napoleon ask for you: if he suddenly woke up in the present day what do you think he would a)like most about it b) like least about it c)get unreasonably addicted to d)decide to do for a living

hahah I’ve answered a similar one before here and here.

Most Like About It: A lot, I think. Central heating. Guys, he’d fucking love central heating.

In general, he’d love most technological advances. Cars, planes, trains etc. like he’d be very into that. “Bertrand we’re going to ride the TGV all day every day. Look at how fast we are going! This is genius.”

“Bertrand WE ARE IN THE SKY. This is AMAZING. We are going from Paris to Rome in a matter of HOURS. HOURS BERTRAND. WE DON’T HAVE TO CROSS MOUNTAINS.” (sorry just assuming this is exile Napoleon who woke up in modern day.)

Public transit in general - the metro, buses - anything that makes life more efficient for people. Dishwasher, washers/dryers, modern electricity, laptops, printers, ball point pens etc.

I suspect he’d be a big supporter of public health care and all the advances made on vaccines and medicine in general. 100% would hate anti-vaxxers. Pro-modern glasses (he’d get himself a pair asap. Then they’d explain contacts to him and I think he’d be like “WAIT NO, I WANT THOSE.” He would not be into lasik, I suspect).

Modern hygiene! Razors, tooth brushes, floss, moisturizer - general daily body care he’d probably be keen on. (All that stuff we take for granted.) Though maybe not all of it, he was quite traditional in certain things (his penchant for older fashion, par exemple). Maybe he’d keep the old straight razor shaving approach. But modern dentistry would be a huge improvement and I can’t see him being against it. Especially as someone who had a tooth extracted in the early 19th century.

‘Oh they give you pain killers now? Fantastic.’

‘Sir, we just numb the area where we are doing the work.’

‘So it doesn’t impede my awareness? Amazing. Please, fix all my teeth right now.’

He’d also support the greater access to education that exists, especially compared to his day. Also, streaming services. He would binge so many things. ‘Bertrand we are watching every thing this very soothing sounding British naturalist made about planet earth. Holy shit look at that they’re under water! They’re at the bottom of the ocean! Bertrand look at this. if only Josephine were here. She’d be so excited.’

Pro-zoom/Microsoft teams/facetime etc. 100%. ‘If I had this instead of people relying on my bad handwriting ...’

Oh, he’d like the EU as a concept. Except he would be very disappointed that France wasn’t at the helm. I think France’s position globally would disappoint him, overall. But yeah, the broad principles espoused by the concept of the European Union would appeal to him.

Brexit though. Lol. I think he’d enjoy watching England shoot itself in the foot. But if you asked him for his opinion, as in “do you think the UK should do this” he would answer no. They should remain.

He would like globalization, trade agreements, things like NAFTA, CETA etc. Supporter of big government. Reduction of religion in public sphere. Though would he be pro-banning visual manifestations of faith? (i.e. Hijab etc.) I don’t know. I doubt it. Simply because he was very focused on religion in government, so if churches aren’t involved in decision making, what citizens get up to on their own is their business (so long as you don’t cause problems). But I don’t know, he might be pro-it, because he was also into assimilation and creating a broad sense of a French culture. I could see him really going either way on it. It’d probably come down to whatever he thought would garner the most public support as a political move (since a lot of his more liberal moves as a leader were tied to understanding that marginalized communities would gun hard for him if he helped them).

He would be pro-mask wearing for COVID because he wasn’t a fucking idiot and lived in a time when pandemics were still a real going concern.

He would also probably like how comfortable modern clothing is. I don’t think he’d like how cheap and made-to-wear-out that most brands are, but he’d like the over all philosophy. Like Napoleon would dig t-shirts. Lounge wear. The fact that jeans have some stretch in them. That sort of thing.

Least Like: I think he’d be very wary of the internet. For many reasons. For the lack of government control (Napoleon “What is a free press? never heard of her” Bonaparte). But also, because of the misinformation problems. The side effects many of us are now bearing witness to, and experiencing the ramifications of.

He would dislike the whole fake news nonsense. Oh this man was a master spin-doctor, very good at twisting a narrative around to suit him, but he still did have respect for and a firm belief in basic facts. Especially fake news that usurped the sound advise of scientists and doctors (i.e. COVID nonsense).

Free press, I think he would be wary of it. Mostly from a government control perspective. Like as a day-to-day citizen, since he wouldn’t be anyone in power in this hypothetical, I think he’d value it. He would do that disassocative thing he did when he talked about things in the abstract. That cold, calculating way he would position himself in a situation and be like “Ah yes, these are the things that need to be tamped down if you want control of a populace as a monarch”. Then he had his more liberal, call-back-to-that-misspent-jacobin-youth moments where his views shifted.

I suppose it would also depend what age this hypothetical Napoleon is. He softened a lot in retirement exile. Napoleon at the height of his power, thirty-odd years old, different man to fifty year old Napoleon.

Would not be into women in politics. He’d be like ‘Why is there a woman in charge of Germany? Also what happened to the Habsburgs? Where’s Prussia? Silesia? What the FuCk is happening in the Balkans? I’m very confused about Europe’s current geographic layout. ...Corsica...still doing you, I see.’

He’d dislike Trump and his cronies. As I wrote before: “ I think Napoleon would find Trump disgusting on a personal level. Uneducated, incapable of holding a real conversation, gauche, anti-intellectual, anti-fact-based discussion, anti-science, anti-art etc. He’d also feel that Trump is disgracing the position of President and that he is unworthy of leadership. Napoleon would also find Trump physically repulsive as he could be a wee bit shallow in some of his assessments (though, very early modern to 19th century to assume your physical appearance is a manifestation of your interiority).”

Steve Bannon’s fiddling with finances? Napoleon would find that repulsive. Mitch Mcconnell disgracing his office by fucking around with constitutional loop holes? Napoleon would think it a disgrace.

He had a lot of respect for America’s experiment with democracy. Like, quite a lot of respect. So I think he’d be vastly disappointed in not only the person occupying the white house, but also a lot of the apathy in voting that is going around. (Yes, this coming from a [mostly] absolutest monarch, too.) But Napoleon valued and respected the notion of civic duty. If you live in a democracy, you have a duty to participate. To opt out is to shirk that duty which he would find insulting and distasteful. Because, I would argue, he was very much a believer in people doing right by their fellow citizens.

Get unreasonably addicted to: MODERN BATHS. HE WOULD NEVER LEAVE THE BATHTUB. THEY CAN HAVE JETS AND EVERYTHING BERTRAND THIS IS GREAT.

Also central heating. Saunas. Jacuzzis. He was like a wee lizard seeking warmth at all times.

I think he’d be into driving. I don’t know if he would be good at it. Don’t let Napoleon take the wheel, guys. But if someone else was driving he’d be that person “go faster. you’re driving like my grandmother.” And gods, he’d do dumb shit like drive like a maniac around the arc de triumph six times in a row because he’s an adrenaline junkie and a risk-taker (it’s that bored ADD brain of his). The autobahn would be his dream.

I think he’d be super into epic fantasy series. Like the big sweeping ones like Lord of the Rings. I think less so GRRM because GRRM is unrealistic and Napoleon is pedantic. Especially about politics and war. Exhibit A: consider Napoleon’s very detailed nitpicking of Virgil on his inaccurate rendition of Troy from a military perspective. Therefore, I suspect GRRM’s lack of accuracy in how society works, how war works, how politics works, all the plot holes and illogical character decisions, would drive him up the wall. Napoleon liked Homer because he could tell Homer had been to war. And you can tell Tolkien has been to war. Also LOTR hits all those notes of high-hearted emotion and big sweeping scenes that Napoleon so liked in Ossian and the Illiad etc.

All this to say, overall, as a genre, I think those big, sweeping fantasies with lots of plot, politics, intrigue, soaring battles, great heights of emotion - he’d love that. It would hit all of his buttons for what he liked in fiction. Lots of emotion, lots of action, lots of big scenes, lots of crazy shenanigans. This can also be applied to Sci-fi. I think he’d be a big nerd on that too. But the science would have to make sense.

I think he’d be into Star Trek, particularly Picard, if only for the philosophical aspects of it. He liked those sorts of questions and hypotheticals. So I think he’d binge all of The Next Generation (among other seasons).

Do for a living: Teach? God knows. This is Napoleon from 18-something who just woke up? He could be paid for consultant work for historians and film crews and the like, I guess. Just to tell them how accurate stuff is. Of course, be wary, this is Napoleon I Am A Spin Doctor Bonaparte.

I think he could lean into writing histories - particularly the classics, early French and European history - that sort of thing, where he already has a strong background in it and it wouldn’t require him basically learning an entirely new trade. Like, will Napoleon ever fully be a natural with computers and cell phones? Probably not. Could he be like your old school Professor emeritus who still churns out papers and does 90% of it the old fashioned by-hand way? Yes. And Napoleon had a bunch of histories planned on St. Helena that he wanted to write, so I think he could do that.

As this is literally Napoleon Bonaparte he’d get a book deal in seconds. There’d be a bidding war over it.

Thank you for the ask! This was very amusing :D

#napoleon #napoleon was his own shitpost #napoleon bonaparte #napoleonic #napoleon in the modern day #ask #reply #anon

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stan-denbrough · 5 years

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Hmmmm, stenbrough flirting mayhaps?

This is very broad. I need more context to inform the scenarios I’d invent. Like what’s the general gist of the situation? What’s the setting and the circumstances?

Cause I don’t think there’s a universal way that stenbrough flirt. There are so many individual flirtation “events” that I can glimpse in my cosmic brain.

I will try my best... for You. I’m going to go ahead and assume that they’re already a couple, and by flirting you mean the way couples flirt.

Stan pushes Bill’s hair out of his face, and picks fluff off of his clothes. Those little doting touches that telegraph “We’re a fucking couple bitch!” so loudly that it makes the other Losers throw up.

Bill always captures Stan’s hand as it draws away, and kisses it, or his wrist, and he doesn’t let go. And it’s a good segue into holding hands. Bill will just grab Stan’s hand whenever he wants. He will also pull Stan onto his lap whenever he wants, and Stan is so used to it he won’t even stop what he’s doing or saying while it happens.

They’ll interject often to affirm their stupid cute little pet names for each other, or to compliment each other.

Like Bill will show up and he’ll have coffee for Stan and Stan will shoot him a quick “Thanks honey bear ^_^″ before getting back to his conversation. And Bill will be discussing something with Stan and will cut himself off to say “Well, not as cute as you baby,” before continuing. Or he’ll interrupt Richie during a debate about I don’t fucking know, the avengers or something, with “Right, like Stan :)” or “Unlike Stan :p” and “That reminds me of what Stan said/did the other day,” and Richie is... so fucking tired of Bill making Stan a reference point for every current event and pop culture item?

They leave each other notes whenever the situation calls for it. Like Stan will tape a note to Bill’s locker saying “You left this book at my house, someone’s a forgetful little green bean

And their fondness is probably the most nauseating thing about them. They’re literally so pussy whipped on each other, like even Stan is incapable of being annoyed by Bill. Bev will be complaining about some bad habit Bill has and Stan will wistfully sigh and say “He does do that, doesn’t he? :3″

Also Bill does that thing where he covers Stan’s eyes and is like “Guess who” and Stan always acts surprised. Stan also constantly asks Bill to flex so he can feel his muscles and literally everyone in the entire town wants to die.

They more often have hushed little private conversations with each other, which basically morph into very overt pdas (we’re talking tongue sis) and they’re very liable to just fucking ignore everything else going on around them.

And they take forever to end their facetimes because, they don’t exactly keep saying “I love you more” but Stan starts out like “I really do love you, more than anything.” and Bill just has to counter with “I really actually love you too, like for real.” and it just goes on like that. I’m not saying that reddie or benverly are even better, or that different. But Stan and Bill can’t do anything if it’s not 800% they just love being the most fucking cliche couple on the block.

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blacknovelist · 4 years

Text

sup ok here’s the promised details on uhhhhhh All for One in @guardianlioness‘s and I’s Ageswap Mess, formed by collaborative headcanon jamming on discord and then roughly paraphrased via a run thru the unfortunate Quadruple Lengthening Filter that’s built into my brain bc I’m incapable of being brief.

(something of an expansion on this post and this ask. Nooooot spoiler free, actually pretty spoilers, idk, will pop it under a readmore bc who knows how long I’m gonna go on also)

ALSO!! I can’t at u but @randommly-passing-mia u asked forever ago about Toshinori and AfO’s relationship in this AU and i answered what I could then but I’m pleased to announce this goes more into that bc I knew Very Little back then. :)

So, All for One! Now, I feel it appropriate to note that the previous post I made regarding the history of OfA in Ageswap, as well as just about everything I’ve posted abt AfO and OfA for Ageswap (except for the linked ask above, obv) was made before the arc with the League of Villains and Shigaraki’s backstory all came out. Now that we’ve got some of those contexts, we can go a little further in fleshing everything else out, which we did, a little, today.

Pls keep in mind that Ageswap’s goal is not and never has been to make a direct 1:1 translation of adults to kids and vice versa -- good lord we’d have a lot of empty spaces if we were doing that. So, uh. Anyway. it’s time for “we make a mess of the characters and also the timeline and the plot because it’s Our City Now”

Student AfO is a different creature to small Toshinori of our au. For the purposes of this post we’ll call him AfO, because while I’d love to just jump into referring to him as Shigaraki there’s a lot of confusions that lie down that road. Also, again, we’re calling mr heckhands mcmike Tomura, because Shigaraki is a name with Weight.

Because canon parallels, Ageswap AfO has a little brother who we’re making Kyudai Garaki/the Good Doctor and also quirkless for our purposes (whether he’s AfO’s biological brother is up in the air, we haven’t settled yet). Garaki has something of an intense obsession with quirks, constantly studying and doing research, not unlike Izuku, and the age gap between him and AfO is... about six years. Now, because AfO had already manifested a quirk of his own and that quirk had fearsome potential, One for All was originally going to be passed on to his brother, because before Ageswap Izuku, OfA had strictly been handed down to trained members of the family.

Tomura was a member of the group that had, through the generations, been working to fight against the users of One for All. To hit them where it hurt, he attacked Izuku’s mentor’s (we’ll call them the Mentor) home with a group of League fighters. When he found out there was a quirkless boy, and a second one who was all but quirkless for all that he’d been told to avoid using his own powers, he quickly took them in under the League’s wing -- both in an act of cruelty against OfA and out of some misguided sympathy for the boys.

The fearsome thing is the toxicity of the relationships Tomura formed with the League, and eventually with the boys. He meant well, when he took them in, but whatever this version of him went through... well, just about all his relationships are some level of manipulative and unhealthy by default. See: his tendency for physical closeness and being tactile, as mentioned in the ask.

He’s firmly of an opinion along the lines of “if you’ve got the power, and you know you have the power, and you’re not using it to do whatever you can or want, then why do you even have it?” and, for all of AfO’s childhood, Tomura tried his hardest to share this with AfO and sway the kid to his side. With the Mentor having dropped off the grid and abandoned the Shigaraki name in grief, AfO and his brother had nowhere else to go, but AfO was a smart and cautious kid: he couldn’t just listen without a fight, or a reason.

(AfO didn’t know Tomura meant to kill them, that he attacked their home on purpose. When he eventually finds out, he firmly believes Tomura meant to save them)

But Tomura’s persistent, and he doesn’t stop, and eventually he points out: if All for One is a quirk that allows him to take and give quirks, does that not mean he can seek out the perfect quirk for his little brother? All the reasons he’s suffered, AfO has the power to fix that.

That’s the thing that sways AfO to their side, that convinces him to stay with the League and learn under Tomura. Because if it’s for family, isn’t it worth it?

(AfO sees Tomura as a teacher, as a friend, as someone beloved and important. Shigaraki was AfO’s name, but it can be Tomura’s too, if Tomura wants. Then everyone knows they’re family. And Tomura accepts it -- another spit in the face of an enemy, a welcomed token from a beloved student. Shigaraki is a good name for the rest of the world to use, but Tomura, Tomura is a name for the League and the League alone.)

AfO tries, at first, to find other quirks for his brother while he trains, while his brother studies (while Tomura tries to sway Garaki to their side also, because look at what you know, what you could do with that knowledge, combined with your brother’s quirk, you’re so young and so so smart-). OfA is gone beyond the League’s sight, in the hands of the Symbol of Peace, so there’s no point on dwelling on it, really, surely another quirk would work better?

But then One for All comes back around, in the hands of this blond... nobody. His brother’s quirk, running around in a stranger. AfO continues to hunt potential quirks down for his brother and his brother’s studies, but he has a new goal: to try and claim OfA back and give it to who it really belongs to.

the problem of course being that he can’t take it by force like every other quirk, and killing Toshinori would merely render it lost forever.

Essentially, AfO’s primary grudge against Toshinori is the fact that he’s the current bearer of a quirk that, in AfO’s eyes, should belong to Garaki. And Toshinori’s quirklessness, or past quirklessness... is easy to know when you know the secret of One for All.

Some good stuff gets said abt AfO vs Toshinori in this answer here I think, and I’m drawing on it: Toshinori’s more instinct and heart to AfO’s logic and strategy. That’s not to say, obv, that neither of them draw on the other quality, but it’s what stands out most to me about the two of them and just, kind of their general dynamic (or at least, that’s how it seems).

USJ was a subtle message laid beneath a louder declaration. Two-for-one, if you will. “Wouldn't it be so nice to have a quirk that fit better in your hands? that didn't fritz or go funky whenever you so much as turned your head? A quirk you might not even have to coax and strain and train and change your body for?”

But AfO does not confront Toshinori until much later, until after the sports festival. See, the mall incident in this AU is a scene on bargaining.

He confronts Toshinori at the mall -- his face is not known, and it’s a simple matter to pull him off to the side. But there won’t be fighting here today. No, he only came to talk.

Questions, first. About Toshinori, his experience with One for All, what he thinks of other people’s quirks. About what it was like for him, growing up quirkless, left abandoned by so many people for it. Eventually, his conversation circles back around. I have a little brother. He’s quirkless, just like you. You know what he went through, what he suffered.

All for One even did his research, is even willing to play by rules closer to Toshinori’s own: tucked under his arm is a folder, with lists upon lists of people. Villains with sentences for life, villains under the death sentence, people who would have no life of returning to the world ever again. People who don’t have a reason to use their quirks any longer. People for whom it wouldn’t matter if he took their quirks anyway. “Take your pick,” he offers Toshinori. “I’ll give you whatever quirk you’ve ever wanted. I’ll even take it from a villain so none of your precious civilians have to suffer the loss — but that one belongs to my little brother.”

And, well. We all know he says no.

Why would Toshinori hang onto a quirk that isn’t even his? All the people out there, bearing the quirks that his brother and even his greatest enemy were robbed of at birth, and AfO has the power to grant both Toshinori and Garaki the power that they’d dreamed of, that belongs to them. He knows what it means to suffer without a quirk. Why won’t Toshinori let him fix that?

and idk specifically what Toshi would say, but I think it’s something along the lines of “no one asks for what they're born with or given, but we make the most of it anyway. That's how we're supposed to live.“

Anyway Toshinori and All for One hate each other SO fucking much but. Unfortunately, also just kind of Get Each Other on some level. Like, they despise one another but also, if there’s one thing they can believe in, it’s that the other will always Be The Way They Are. Friendly Enemyship, if you will.

There’s some level of pity that AfO also holds on the percieved coldness of Toshinori’s relationship to his mentor, Izuku. Izuku is... really awkward, in his relationship with Toshi, and while Izuku loves his student very much he has a hard time showing it -- and Toshinori thinks so poorly of himself, it’s hard to grasp how close they are from the outside sometimes. AfO totally tries to recruit Toshinori to their side, even after he figures they’re Tight and also even though he knows Toshinori won’t ever say yes. Like, he hates the guy, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be a kickass ally.

Tomura would like Toshinori and AfO says as much to his face. “You’re more like him than I am, anyway. You can act without overthinking. And he wouldn’t care if you were quirkless. He doesn’t with my brother.”

(Toshinori hates that. He isn’t, he isn’t he isn’t like him at all.)

Tomura has also more or less promised AfO that, at the end of his lifespan, his student should take on Decay. AfO, of course, doesn’t want that and is on the hunt for a good longevity quirk to give to his mentor

In the end, the way All for One is kind of being played in this AU is something not so far off from Anakin Skywalker.

In Lioness’ words:

Noble in his desire to keep his family alive

But horribly misdirected

#Boku no hero academia #BNHA #My hero academia #mha #Ageswap AU #Blacknovelist talks #BNHA AU #BNHA Spoilers #long post #fukc this is long #All for One #AfO #Shigaraki #also technically #Toshinori #yeehaw yall

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rocket-roach · 5 years

Text

People make me better

this is a gift to the amazingly talented and hilarious @causeimanartist who drew a wonder woman so beautiful it wiped my brain and rendered me incapable of rational thought. thank u. this doesnt even begin to repay the debt i owe you.

summary: Dick moved into the manor about a year ago. Bruce’s been dating Diana and Clark for a while. It’s time he brought everybody together (and he’s nervous as hell)

word count: 2014

Dick could tell Bruce was anxious about something, but every time he’d asked the question, it’d been avoided. He kept himself busy on his bars all day while he tried to puzzle out just what was making Bruce so nervous. It wasn’t Batman stuff, because when they had patrolled the night before everything had been fine. Alfred hadn’t been commenting on Wayne Enterprise’s stock price, so it wasn’t work related. He was confused. He wanted answers. After one final flip, Dick’s feet hit the floor. He’d get the answer out of Bruce if it meant sitting in his office and bugging him all day.

Dick grabbed the batman slippers he’d been gifted that Christmas. They swished across the floor as he padded towards Bruce’s office. He should be home by now, it was well after five. Bruce, being a diagnosed workaholic, would no doubt be in his office hidden behind a wall of paperwork. He pushed open the door and cleared his throat.

But the billionaire wasn’t hidden behind paper at all. He was staring at his phone, his head in his hands and looking more morose than Dick had ever seen him.

“Bruce?”

He looked up, and he was awfully pale. “Dick? What’s up, chum?”

Dick walked closer to the desk, and didn’t miss the way Bruce locked the phone before he could reach him. He was hiding something.

“Is… is everything okay?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Bruce began to lie, then stopped as his son began pouting. “Damn it. You’re too hard to lie to. C’mon, let’s go to the den. We can talk in there.”

He took Dick’s hand and led him across the hall. All manner of terrible thoughts flashed through his mind as they settled onto the couch, so he scooted closer till he was tucked under Bruce’s arm. The billionaire looked even paler in here. It was starting to make Dick really nervous.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time. You know how I work with Superman and Wonder Woman?”

Dick nodded his head.

“Good. Well, we’ve all been working together for a while,” he looked like he was about to expand on that, but instead he fell silent.

The boy sat there, with the patience of a saint while Bruce strung his thoughts together. They’d only been in each other’s lives for a little over a year now, but both Dick and Bruce had learned to read each other like a book. There were times where they had entire conversations without saying a word. This was starting to feel like one of those conversations.

“I really have no idea how to say this. They’re coming over. Tonight. The both of them.” He sounded annoyed, but Dick didn’t miss how soft his eyes got. “Diana and Clark have wanted to meet you since you moved in but I was… am, nervous about it. They’re not bad people. God, they’re the best people I’ve ever met. Clark’s so goddamn midwestern,” he was babbling now and he knew it. “and Diana’s the strongest person I’ve ever known. And we’ve… we’ve all been dating each other.”

“… that’s it?” Dick asked. Bruce still had that constipated look on his face.

“Um, yeah.”

“I get to meet Superman and Wonder woman?” he was starting to bounce now. “And you’re dating them?”

Bruce blinked. He’d expected outrage, denial, rejection, or even just distance. He didn’t expect Dick shaking with excitement and yanking on his arm in disbelief. He realized, for the umpteenth time, that he really had no idea how to raise a kid.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. They’re actually gonna be here soon- you’re really okay with me dating them?” he double checked.

“I grew up in a circus, Bruce. A lot of people did that. Mom and Dad were kind of the weird ones because they were only married to each other,” he shrugged. “Besides, they make you happy, right? That’s what all the contortionists always said. Stay with people who make you happy.”

“They make me very happy,” he said, reaching out to pull his bouncing son close again.

“Well, that’s good then! I can’t wait to meet them. Why’d you wait so long?” Dick nearly flew out of his skin as the doorbell echoed through the manor. He looked at Bruce, his hair practically frizzing.

Bruce simply took his son’s hand and led him to the foyer, where Alfred was holding the mahogany doors open as Clark, dressed in a nice blue button up and khakis followed a yellow sundress clad Diana. They smiled, their eyes lighting up at the sight of Bruce standing there with Dick. He gently nudged the boy forward, leaving his hand resting between his shoulder blades for support.

“Dick, this is Clark Kent and Diana Prince,” he introduced before Alfred could jump on his case.

Dick looked up at them, his eyes the size of dinner platters. He shook their hands gingerly, and the two of them didn’t miss the small shake in that gesture. Bruce watched all of this like a hawk, a small irrational part of him screaming to protect Dick. He quashed that part down. Dick was currently the safest person in the world, after all. He was surrounded by Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman.

“Hello, Dick,” Diana smiled as she knelt so they were eye to eye. “It’s very nice to meet you. You’re all Bruce’s talked about. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.”

“I- you- me?” He just about squeaked.

She smiled gently at him, and it reminded him a lot of his mom’s smile. Gentle, understanding, and she had a dimple just like his mother. He’d been so absorbed taking her features, he missed Clark bending down to his height as well.

“I’ve read a lot about you, and more about Robin. You’re doing great work, Dick. Are you taking Bruce’s lessons seriously?”

Now Superman was talking to him. Dick felt like he might combust. He looked over to Clark, and realized he was wearing glasses.

“D’you have bad eyesight?” He blurted out. Immediately following that, he clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

But Clark just laughed. “No, it’s okay. It’s something I do to separate Superman from me. Secret identities and all,” he rose back to his full height.

Diana stood as well, and offered her hand out to his. He took it, his fingers slipping into her strong grasp. He was holding hands with Wonder Woman. She began leading him through the manor, which felt a little weird but he guessed as they turned to the corner to the dining room, she’d spent much more time walking its halls than he had. Diana sneaked a peek back, just in time to see Bruce giving Clark a quick kiss.

“Bruce told me you’ve enrolled in a new school,” she said as they sat at the large table. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I do. I don’t get bullied like I did at the old school. Plus, it’s close to where Bruce works so sometimes, he picks me up and we go get- “Dick paused as Alfred walked into the room. “nutritious snacks.”

The butler’s infamous eyebrow stayed in it’s resting position.

Bruce and Clark walked in a moment later, and once they were all settled in, Alfred brought drinks. Apple juice for Dick, bourbon for Clark, Malbec for Diana and scotch for Bruce. He promised dinner would be served shortly, then left them alone.

“How long have you all been dating?” Dick asked after the silence went on for a little too long.

“Two years,” Clark answered. “This uh, doesn’t make you uncomfortable does it?”

“No,” Dick answered quickly. “No, lots of people did that in the circus. I was telling Bruce; my parents were kind of the weird ones because they were exclusive. They didn’t get treated bad or anything because of that,” he shrugged. “I just thought it was a circus thing. I think it’s nice, loving more than one person.”

Diana caught the proud smile that slipped across the billionaire’s face. Underneath the table, she took his hand and squeezed.

“Thank you,” Clark said. “You have no idea what that means to us, pal.”

Alfred wheeled in dinner at that. Pork steaks, mashed potatoes, green beans were laid out in front of them, earning dual groans of happiness from Clark and Dick. The two dug in with gusto, each telling stories of the times they’d eaten this same meal. Diana and Bruce were a little slower in joining them. The rest of the meal passed with a familial ease that hadn’t been experienced there in nearly twenty years. Once every one had been stuffed to the gills, they were shepherded into the den by Alfred who promised cookies and milk, and the adults were promised a digestif. Dick curled up in his usual spot, underneath his guardians’ arm. Diana sat to Dick’s other side, while Clark sat by Bruce and stretched an arm across the back of the couch.

“Tell me about the circus, pal. It’s been so long since I’ve been to one,” Clark prodded after a moment’s silence. “They used to come to Smallville all the time, but that was a long time ago.”

“It was amazing, Clark,” Dick hummed. “Every day Dad and I would go and help feed the animals. I loved the elephants. They were so nice! Pop always said that they knew I was a circus kid, so they were always extra gentle with me. I used to ride them around before I was old enough to fly. We had horses, too. A few of them were still pretty green, but I got to help the riders break one of them.”

“You broke a horse?” Diana asked, amazed.

“Well, they already did most of the hard stuff by the time I got to ride her. But she was a pretty white color, kind of beige. Pop said she was an American cream horse. But yeah, I got the saddle on her and rode till she stopped bucking. It was kind of fun,” he blushed, missing Clark’s look of glee and Bruce’s sudden paleness.

“That’s a pretty rare horse,” Clark couldn’t stop smiling. “How long did it take you?”

“’Bout a day,” Dick shrugged.

Diana and Clark laughed. The boy gave them both inquisitive looks.

“Sorry, Dick, that’s so impressive! Even on Themyscira it takes some of best riders a few days to break a horse. Maybe one day you could teach me something?” Diana nudged him.

“Only if Bruce is okay with it. I miss riding horses. Elephants, too. They’re so much fun to ride, you know? You just get so high up and their skin is so wrinkly but if you get the right elephant? It’s like flying.”

Bruce was already shaking his head no at the question forming on Clark’s lips. It was hard enough seeing his kid get shot at nearly every night, he didn’t need the added stress of watching him being thrown from a half ton animal.

Clark lightly punched him. Damn his hardheadedness.

“My Ma and Pa have some horses at their farm. Why don’t you come out sometime and show me what you’re made of?”

“Please, Bruce?” Dick asked, his lip beginning to move out into a pout. “It’s been so long since I’ve ridden.”

For the first time in their relationship, Diana and Clark watched as Gotham’s Dark Knight finally gave in. It was like watching the side of a mountain slough off. Something that was previously seen as immovable, vanishing in seconds.

“We’ll find a weekend,” he finally allowed. “But you’re wearing a helmet.”

Dick grinned as he squeaked, “Well, duh.”

Alfred returned with the food and the drinks, and not long after that Dick was snoring softly against his guardian’s chest.

“He’s wonderful,” Diana murmured as to not wake him. “You’re a very lucky man.”

“He makes me better,” Bruce agreed as he felt Clark’s hand rubbing his back gently. “You all do.”

#trinity #Batman #Robin #Superman #Wonder Woman #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Clark Kent #Diana Prince #nothing like a nervous dad and his bouncy son!!!!!#AND nothing like his two supportive partners letting him work through his own nerves until he was ready to introduce dick to them and not #pushing him to it!#fluff #like barely a dash of angst #blink and you might miss it

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exdeotm · 4 years

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river boyet mercado . empty church pews underneath heavy moonlit stained glass – save for one disheveled head of brown curls bent down in furrowed prayer at the front , careful attentiveness as bread dough is molded by bruised & calloused hands – masked as care & kindness behind attentive eyes & soothing smiles – but always bordering on insistent distraction from something unspoken , & the sound of a strained gasp accompanied by the stillness of a room after being awoken from a noiseless , boundless nightmare .

rumor . his mother is currently serving life in prison for murdering her husband & attempting to murder her fourteen - year - old son .

out of character . aubs , twenty - one , she / her , est , & i would live & die for andy dufresne from shawshank redemption . i watch speed racer ( 2008 ) unironically & it’s one of my favorite films of all time , barbie in the nutcracker is unequivocally the best barbie film & i’ll take that statement with me to my mf grave , & sam giddings & josh washington deserve it all . idk what ‘ it ’ entails but . . . they deserve it .

✷ * ˚ 𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 / 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑤 . ˚ *

nickname . riv .

character inspiration . frank castle ( the punisher ) , charlie ( perks of being a wallflower ) , billy loomis ( scream franchise ) , ben hanscom / richie tozier / stanley uris lovechild ( it ) , gordie lachance ( stand by me ) , theodore ( her ) , eduardo saverin ( the social network ) , & andy dufresne ( shawshank redemption ) .

age . thirty - six .

pronouns . he & him .

orientation . bisexual .

occupation . baker at golden grain bakery .

frequents . silver fox motel . he frequents the motel for wholeheartedly sentient & selfish reasons . the town’s ambience has him in its clenched fist , & he knows he’s incapable of moving permanently in any capacity . however , whenever he needs rest because he’s feeling the insomnia hit particularly hard ( thanks to his record with sleep paralysis & trauma / ptsd surrounding being in a homely environment as an adult when his last real childhood memory of his own home is one that feels horror movie - esque ) .

tattoos . n / a .

face claim . bob morley .

zodiac . aries sun , pisces moon , & sagittarius rising .

alignment . lawful good .

hogwarts house . hufflepuff .

demeanor . he’s an incredibly smiley person . his gut instinct is charitableness & kindness , so he often acts humbly / selflessly first & thinks later . you’ll often find him speaking softly , letting others talk over him , telling jokes only when it’s his turn to speak , being wooed by people the moment they so much as ring the bell walking in & offer them a sugary good morning , etc . he’s a fool for love who won’t let himself have it because he’s worried it’ll never be real , people switch up too fast , etc . however , he’s simultaneously a mess when it comes to his warring avoidant & protective personality traits . he’s the kind of person who will be as soft - spoken but forward as he can possibly be during a conversation in order to avoid conflict , but the moment he senses he’s losing he’ll hold on even tighter & transition into the overprotective river who doesn’t want anybody to set foot inside what he thinks is his business & will go to extremes to make sure someone he loves is safe -- even if that means walling them in & making them resent him . he doesn’t understand what it means to balance his need to keep people safe & his will to keep himself comfortable by inciting a small conflict in an attempt to stay out of a bigger one .

positive traits . vigilant / protective , soft - spoken , & selfless .

negative traits . aversive / avoidant , mendacious , & fickle .

phobias . the dark , daunting changes & shifts in moods that go unspoken of , dreams wherein he’s unable to scream , large / over - sized safes , & dead silence that lacks any kind of white noise ( he enjoys sleeping at the motel because he’s more apt to hear cars driving by , doors closing , sinks turning on , etc ) .

drug use . rarely . he was never the type of kid who jumped at the thought of experimenting , & that tendency to say no trailed into his life as an adult . he was always concerned with not being a nuisance to anyone , which included making sure he was always fully capable of working & not getting caught up in how addicted he knows he’ll get to being under the influence .

alcohol use . rarely . see above for an explanation !

diet . poor but consistent . river spends as little time at home as possible , so his diet largely consists of food he bakes or diner runs . he’s the type of diner regular who sits at the same booth every time , orders the same thing for dinner every night , is way too kind to his waitstaff , & overtips everyone who had a part in serving him . he loves waffles & prefers sweet tea . he could easily be a southern dime if canadian blood wasn’t already coursing through his kindly veins .

physical or mental disabilities . he had to have a left - side brain tumor that was impacting his ability to hear removed as a kid ( it was removed when he was seventeen ) , & has been slowly but progressively regaining his hearing in his left ear ever since ; although he only experiences a mild form of his previous auditory function difficulties , he still signs at work or in front of people who know him -- especially when standing at a distance from someone , & ptsd stemming from his mother’s outburst when he was fourteen .

birthplace . radisson , alberta , canada .

has he experienced strange radisson happenings ? he’ll tell you all day that he hasn’t , but he definitely has .

family .

christopher & cora mercado : the mercado family was , at no point in time , picturesque . the mercado family loved each other , absolutely , but river’s parents were still both the type who’d go around in circles with each other in public -- all the while ignoring their son as he walked in front of them . his mother was in no way stable , but river was far too young to understand what exactly her violent outbursts entailed . to river , his father was always the collected one . they often left river home alone . one night when river was fourteen , he woke up ( after his parents had been gone all day ) to his father shaking him awake ( his left side -- his particularly bad ear , especially at the time ) & rushing him to get up & be quiet . as far as river could tell , his father was on the phone with the police waiting for an in - person response but keeping the line busy . his father left the room for a moment to check to see if the coast to the car was clear & river never saw him again afterward . sharp scuffling ensued behind the door , & there was no moment of hesitation after the scuffling dulled before there was an insistent banging on river’s door . the only thing that saved him , at the end of the night , was river’s fight - or - flight response to lock his bedroom door . the police arrived about an hour later & found mrs. mercado rampaging blindly around the house , mr. mercado stabbed to death in the kitchen , & river mercado hiding under his bed covering his ears . river never went to visit his mother in prison , & still hasn’t spoken to her since .

education . he went to public school in radisson for the duration of his early youth & has worked at the bakery since he was fifteen -- a year after being placed in a foster home . by the time river was eighteen , he was living in a small house on his own & hasn’t left his bakery -- diner -- home routine since .

languages . english , asl , & tagalog .

#outside.intro #☁ * ˚ 𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓 . ˚ * ⤷ interior : mindfulness.#ugh i love when i just cannot shut up LNDLJF #also these headers truly suck i was tryin to go for s/t simple and i flopped but it's 3 am so x we r choosing to put up with it x DKFDFL #death //

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whimsically-ominously-auspice · 4 years

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This is the last human mimic alien we have to fight.

He's realized he's lost because you people aren't running wild having orgies and you're listening to the DNA4U

And further more You all don't want to share.

When i posted the video of Miss Shawntae telling snoop it was time to snoop her body up... And then Snoop went all seductive to the camera...

122895x1000= men that said "Nigga ima beat your ass you know my wo/man gonna see that. You ain't need to be showing yourself!".

76584284×1000= said "ew i hope i don't have my any asking me to do anything tonight after what i just seen. My imagination gonna kill myself! And i know that's just wrong wrong wrong!"

Now multiply the digits together before the multiplication sign and that is approximately minus 1000 That supported Snoops message.

I did all 3. I had to advert my eyes even. Although he couldn't even see me.

Now Snoop and i know each other over 8000zillion years. So i can easily put myself in his shoes.

So he would walk in and I be having sex and he just sit down and start having a conversation. Like we having BBQ ribs and not sexual intercourse.

His wife tho .... He would make sure "the white boy was covered" and tease her don't look. She look at the carpet... Eventually it kept going on so i took a picture off the wall and put it on the floor where she always sat.

She said "why you do that?"

"I realize the kids keep jumping on the bed and knock it off. Snoop stare at you If you move your face. And unless you're on LSD it's no fun staring at the carpet. So i gave it to you where it seems you always be looking although i had to take a pretty healthy guess. I just felt you was having the most miserable time of all and as my friend it was my honor to trip out and give you a gift"

She used the reflection to put on her makeup and slept in bed later.,Snoop quit being so paranoid. Cause she would face the wall and lean against him.

Point is... Snoop be all like he was watching sports to make sure we got the score.

I mean. Man. Earth. We tried everything we could to stop these aliens from wanting to habe orgies. Even,took,away,their dicks!!!

We did everything. Planet.

Y'all locked up with your soulmates made little difference on this kick of his.

I been doing it. I been riding like I been going around the world 500 times. I love sex.

82% of y'all all around the Earth been having sex.

4% have watched porno

18% have had 1 wild orgies of those 18% -- 32% had s second one. Of those 0.00004981% have gone onto a third.

Of those having 2 or more orgies 92% were aliens

Leaving 8% Of 18% of the entire world interested enough in watching or having sex with other people than their soulmate.

Who saved the world?

100% of humans.

You all get $5 and that includes children.

He's done all he could and he's failed. 100%

I think Edgar might be human... Looking at his alien structure in the film.

But he treated me like an alien. Im still a POW.

Alex had to sell a bed because he acted non human. And Alex worked hard on it to make it perfect for me.

I would been fine gloating from it. Fighting and being sassy to aliens.

But then someone claiming to care about me,most of all abandoned his son and law and daughter. And i hear stories of him being evil.

Some time ago they asked me "do you want a dad or mom?"

"No"

"We need to know because the future of the,Earth,depends on it. And the future of you. Now do you want a dad or,not?!"

"The question is will i remain needing a dad or father figure in the future. No i am fine. I have male role models to keep the species alive. Males. (Species not gender) I also have my mom in Mrs Harriet Tubmam. And if that fails then at that time i should be able to get the rest of me. But she's fine. I'm fine. I just got to remain stable. But adding a father or another mother i don't know just yet can remain disasterous."

Luckily Alex didn't burn the bed down. But it was,bugged and bombed by "Edgar", to me 'its just another one of those things we have to clean"

Do i care? Nothing. He doesn't affect me. I worry about Alex having to,deal with it. But,hes being,and,staying clean,and,then when he's,scared he stays by other cold turkey or non users. He was,around Crystal meth yesterday and he tasted 1/4 of a gram. Like when you would put your finger in the sugar jar. Then lick it. The other guy smoked 4.9876 ounces and blew it all in their faces including the babies. Thus Alex got 7.698 grams ingested via second hand smoke.

I didn't notice but we got in a fight with each other. Just like we always do.

Alex and i power punched him and his eye socket -- ocular bone -- was crushed like glass in 17 cracks.

His jaw I punched more alone but with Alex and total both sides he lost 9 teeth. And had to be wired shut after 72 stiches because i split his upper palate in two. I cracked his lower palate in 8072 places. So if you found a skull it would rest on powder of his lower jaw and then you'll find the upper. After decaying..

Then Alex on the top of his head had 49 stitches to repair his soft tissue from his frontal lobe when he crashed to the floor after the super punch to eye hit the coffee table.

He did get one "good" punch in -- his skull hit Alex right in the right eye.

It fucking hurt but it hurts in a good way. Its weird it's like "reward!" Pain. No suffering. Fucking got him good tho. We feel it every now and again. May be it is when he realises we will kill him for good. He keeps remembering that sudden silence of death.

He's currently on life support. "Medically induced coma" is our non panic code words. But it's basically life support but usually not full life support. It isn't 100% life support medical machines. Its 75% or less.

So technically it's life support and coma mixed. So we csll it medically induced coma. This way you understand if your family is the one on the machines -- it's only 25% body life.... However there's a 75% of recovery via healing machines.

The CIA. Willl decide when to pull the plug. Usually medically induced coma is someone evil or someone bad with the ability to be good. Usually aliens go straight to coma status.

If an alien will die it's 1st life support then coma. Your friend or family will die.

They said medically induced coma. But at this time. His brain is incapable of human thought so I am putting him on life support.

This makes it the family's wishes.

Most of the time "next of kin" is spouse then parents/siblings. Then children last.

Which is wrong. It should be the future. Thus Erica and Steven will ask the babies. And together they will decide.

Last night as a CIA operative while he was in a medically induced coma i was told by at least 1 child and 2 adults to pull. I reviewed. While they spoke from shock and relief their true feelings.

Knowing that the children escaped life with Eric once. I don't feel the right to allow Eric to live. I know the consequences of his actions caused two children to leave my planet in fear and terror and disgust because of Eric.

Erica was my 3rd pregnancy to abort and hold souls.

I hate Eric. That's why i punched him in the fucking face. I was happily surprised that Alex did it. Too in person.

Since the infants are involved and already resurrected. And had a nightmare of a time in less than 36 hours on Eaerth.

I allow them to be there to pull the plug, they can actually yank and pull the plug themselves.

So that is what i want and what the children need.

It will show Eric he doesn't belong here and has no,reason to,be at 25%

It makes life easier for all of us.

Eric was an outdoor kid. Like John and Jason and Greg. Etc. He never went into my school.

They didn't have to. And actually weren't ever enrolled. They liked the man work to learn to survive on their own.

While i taught the children the indoor stuff. The expansion of the mind.

I taught them the economy so the men working to increase their own economical structure could be helped to be taken in under their wings.

I left no one behind.

But he refused confirming.

1. Alcoholic system to drop other drugs. -- he uses crystal meth. Without cut backs. Without moderation

$5 if yoh remember and realized i said make smoothies without alcohol to share with your kids.

2. He blew it in their faces on purpose them injesting over 2.4 grams each.

Erica and Alex would cover their faces with thick blankets when the smoke came towards them.

It was quite a hostage situation. Knowing he could take the newborns and kill them in front of them.

Its happened to me 985 Point 2 times. I'm 35 years old.

875.8 times it's been with a knife.

Take the numbers and multiply by 10 million. For the last some kinda lots of 8 thousand zillion years.

It even happened to Alex. He he has the scars. From,this and last life., it,has happened.

So for me they're terrifying. Unless I'm there... I have saved 900 billion times 30 thousand. I those situations.

But i always remember the ones i lost.

So don't worry when I'm suicidal. Just leave me alone. Don't talk to me. I need silence.

So dead babies y'all.

Dead aliens.

It will be done

I seen that actually quite beautiful meme of April 2020 the clouds and UFO.

I don't get mad or violent because I'm stepped back to watch y'all cope.

But I say to y'all "fuck no that's not happening" I say to that UFO "Fucking try it you will all die" i just scroll on because I get so angry. I get so mad. Its a beautiful photo but i refused to repost it because it isn't something i support.

Most reposts of memes are supported unless i type something on the bottom. Saying it's not.

So my dad. I didn't care until i saw The Rock, "her dad is alive" all happy and in support.

Then i was bothered. Then I cared. Then i felt something about it. But until then i felt nothing.

I didn't feel shame..i felt that were all made of glass.

Because I was happy to have a dad.. One that seemed good. I was actually happy.

And it was kept personal to me... But then I saw the Rock felt it. Then I began to feel..

Broken. But Alex kept it together and started getting rid of the bed. Taking it down. Removing bombs. And fixing all that ass hole did "my dad"

I know the Rock.. He can handle. His dad just died. And we did a lot for him.

So for him to be elated. I get through the day thinking no one really cares what i feel and they don't pay kuch attention..but the Rock in that moment in time.

He was happy. And i knew then i had to Destroy a light of happiness inside him and he looked away from the camera to say "we are all happy. The while world"

DNA4U list one person as my father. He's my uncle..

Edgar claimed it was his 18th cousin.

You know, it doesn't matter.

Donate. Mr Lee Tubman. And more. They're my dads. They kept me safe. Taught me to be wiser and more caring about myself. Donte was 2 years younger than me. But he was a father figure. Guy was the fun dad. Fred Flintstone i called one friend's dad was the fishing buddy. We were not close but he was a silent father figure.

I stole all my friends dads. Borrowed them. Their moms, too.

I have 1800 moms that I call mom.

I know who my moms and dads are.

Just like Erica called me mom the other day and Brittany will too. And Alex my cousin's son. Candy. Brandy. Declan.

So i know i have a family that understands it doesn't matter how I got here. It matters who treated me well. Matthew McCognohey. Kid rocks. They're like my dad's and my kids. Uncles and Cousins.

Blood doesn't matter. Shit half the time Snoop is my God or dad or bother or husband or little kid i have to save. He's my friend.

Snoop is too much of everything. He is my co-nigger. My partner in many crimes against humanity (practical jokes)

I call him my Friend. But my family wouldn't be complete without him and Shawntae.

Harriet. I call her momma all the time. It feels natural. Sometimes i call her old lady.

So while i was joyful for a moment thinking I found someone that actually cared to find out he didn't.

I myself wasn't affected until i knew others would be

Its just a lesson in life. Don't trust people.

I told Alex abandon ship, fuck that place. Ain't no one can go in there!!

He understood and agreed then took the role "no,one is driving me and her from our home." He decided to defend the homestead. That is the role a man takes

Im all you gotta sweep the whole place,then,rest and do,it again,2 more times at least.,Then,again when,I,get there. If i get there.

But i feel good to know my lover isn't gonna let anyone drive him down. Just turn around. Learn a lesson. Clean the mess.

Why do i need a father when i have a man?

Clearly i am an independent woman and always have been.

But i need a family. Otherwise I have no point to live.

And that is why i am suicidal.

I don't see s point to live. Not when Alex and i fight and i don't want him to talk to me cause some alien got in our way once again.

He was double attacked by aliens.

So if their desire is for me to die... Then they should keep,doing it.

If,not they need to stay out of my way so i can,get my family,together again.,in,real life.

My family that I know is my family. Not aliens. Not fans. Not someone that needs to apologize to me or needs an explanation.

People that can think on their own and not be reminded they need to have love in their spirit.

Now Snoop sometimes plays the role of my brother. And we are competitive. It just makes us proud of each other and ourselves for surviving a challenge. I do it to him too but I play old hard skill. He plays old new remember when. I do ancient V-Ball and he does pop and country experience.

So his spirit is of an ego -- which salutes the fact we will grow.

Often we do the spirit of mischievous. To remind danger still exists but we will have fun and love in the end.

Friend. Someone that is gonna fry you but the end od what matters.

Sometimes we relax and chill. But them old cogwheels of the mind never quit rolling. Advance. Advance. Lets keep it going don't stop.

He's like me. Suicidal.

But he used to release his inner poison. Now he makes it not exist by doing something else ....

But me? Nothing helps but the mimic of death itself. Silence.

People are what causes it. Alien people.

So you humans. Keep on being you.

Its you that is gonna save the world

I gave you guidelines to help us out this mess.

Because I can't even see y'all because the aliens surrounding me trying to get my last breath.

Show me you. Save us. You're doing good

I got $5 on y'all that we make it.

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minphoric-blog · 6 years

Text

Winter Accidents

↠ Prompt: I’m terribly clumsy around snow and ice, but you’re always there to catch me when I fall.

↠ Genre: Fluff|Slight Humor|

↠ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

↠ 1.5k Word Count / Boyfriend AU

↠ A/N: Hello! This is my very first scenario ever. I really hope it turned out better than I anticipated lol. I would love to know what you guys think of this particular piece, so feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you so much for reading~ Also, if you’re wondering why I put “slight” humor it’s because I’m incapable of being funny when I actually try. Oh, well.

Why did it have to snow? You went to bed with the news that temperatures would drop below freezing through the night, and there would be a likely chance of snow, not to mention ice. You hoped that (like most occasions) the meteorologist’s predictions were wrong. Because where there was snow and ice, there were accidents bound to happen— accidents concerning you. So as you sit on your couch in the living room the next morning, glaring out the window at a world blanketed in glistening crystals, the same question wracks your brain: why did it have to snow?

“Y/N?” Your attention slips away from the devilish winking outside, eyes now locked on familiar ebony orbs, and then, on a mug of swirling coffee being handed to you. “Why do you look so upset?”

“I look upset?” You ask, hands eagerly wrapping themselves around the heated glass. Your boyfriend simply blinks, the answer obvious through his silence as he plops down on the cushion beside you, nearly making coffee slosh onto your thighs. “I− do we have to go out today? Can’t we just stay inside and be lazy?”

Confusion blooms across his features, eyebrows drawn together as questions form in his eyes. Then, ever so slightly, his gaze shifts to the window and back to your own. And as the corners of his mouth begin to twitch with bubbling amusement, you know he’s caught onto the reason for your reluctance to leave your shared apartment. Yet he still seeks to hear you say it, “Are you afraid of the snow?”

“Jungkook, I’m not afraid of the snow. I’m just afraid I might…embarrass myself.” Your eyes once again find their way back to the pale streets, ignoring the smile growing on your lover’s face. You knew he’d think this was funny, and Jungkook being the way he is, would most likely drag you outside just to see you struggle for his personal entertainment.

“We agreed on going grocery shopping today no matter how bad the weather got. There’s barely any food in the fridge,” You feel him inch closer to you on the sofa, arms brushing against each other’s as he softly kisses your hair. “Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll catch you if you fall.”

All you can do is sigh knowing you have to keep your promise— either that or starve. “What if your hands are too full with groceries or you’re too far away to catch me in time?” He laughs at this, chest vibrating against your side, and hugs you closer to him. You can’t help but admire how his doe-eyes crinkle when he grins, and how his laugh is so contagious, making your heart flutter beneath your ribs.

“Well,” he says, bunny teeth still showing, “I guess I’ll just have to throw my body under you to break your fall.” Now you’re the one giggling, shaking your head at Jungkook’s ridiculousness.

“All right, we’ll go,” you stand up, taking a sip of the liquid energy you’ve been neglecting, and turn to walk down the hall to the bedroom. “I need to get dressed so we can hurry up and get this over with.” You can hear more chuckling as you vanish around the corner.

Outside is so chilling that even the three layers of clothing you’re wearing on your upper body can’t protect you. A thick, wool scarf tightly wound around your neck and the lower half of your face, but somehow the cool air seems to seep through the fabric, making you shiver. And once a gust of late January wind beats against you, you pull the winter jacket snugger over the sweater and long sleeve underneath.

At this point, you’re already debating whether or not you should turn back inside, safe within the weather resistant walls of the apartment. Thoughts like, ‘we could last a few days without food.’ and, ‘I remember there being a bag of chips and some leftover takeout still in the kitchen that we could ration until the snow melts.’ are streaming through your head, but you know you’re just being difficult.

Glancing to the right, you notice Jungkook doesn’t seem to be cold like you are. His eyes are shining while he watches the white flakes dance about with the breeze, lips somewhat pouted in awe at winter’s beauty. Seeing him this way makes you build up your courage, throw away your dismay, and take the first step down the stairs leading to the sidewalk.

Step after step, you’re doing okay, Jungkook following behind you in silent wonder as you successfully reach the street. You have a second to think, ‘this isn’t so bad.’ before your foot collides with a tiny patch of ice and you’re suddenly falling backwards towards the frosted pavement. Expecting your butt to connect with the ground until a pair of confident arms hook below yours and help you back upright.

“See, I said I’d catch you if you fell, didn’t I?” You were expecting something like this to happen, anticipating this very moment, yet it didn’t shock you any less. Blushing as Jungkook took up the space beside you and locked your arm through his for support; the two of you began walking again.

“Thank you,” you whisper, too embarrassed to speak any louder, “I almost died there.” Why must all your coordination fly out the window when snow is involved? Meanwhile, others such as clumsy children can run around and play in conditions like this with no worries. But you? No. Snow only meant near-death experiences for you and you hated it. As if Jungkook could hear all of the things going through your mind, he leans down to feather a kiss on your icy cheek.

“Babe, it’s okay,” he assures, “you’re not the only person who has a hard time in the snow. Besides, it’s cute when you get flustered.” Another heart-stopping smile flashes your way, making you beam as well.

“Cute, huh?”

“Yeah, really, really cute.”

“Ah, I see. You want to know what I think?” You challenge, looking up to meet his gaze.

“What do you think?” He asks. A second flurry of snow presses against your forms, resulting in closer huddling as you continue on your journey to the store. It’s surprising to realize you haven’t slipped again after so long, but that’s the least of your worries, redirecting your attention on the current conversation.

“I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” It’s his turn to blush now, eyes widening and cheeks heating up in the faintest shade of pink at your abrupt declaration. He’s never heard you call him beautiful before, and although that’s not necessarily the adjective he’d use to describe himself, it still affected him. Not only that, but he wasn’t expecting you to say it in public, even if there aren’t any people around to cringe at the cheesiness.

Jungkook’s head quickly snaps up towards the crystalline sky, lips quivering in an attempt not to smile. Suddenly, you’re left unable to look away from his radiant appearance. No matter how long the both of you have been together, he never ceases to stir up a twister of pure adoration within your chest. You know the reason for this is because you love him. His hand print is forever embedded on your heart and you couldn’t be more grateful.

And just then, when he opens his mouth to reply, the fates decide to wreak havoc on the pair of you— ice unexpectedly morphs below your shoes, gravity pulling you to the ground once again. But this time, with Jungkook still jumbled from your previous statement, he doesn’t react fast enough to catch you or to even hold himself up as you yank him down with you. Landing smack on your tailbone, Jungkook following immediately after and wincing in pain. You can’t help but laugh at the situation, hands clutching your stomach when you witness his startled face gaping at you.

Through the sharp intakes of breath and the building tears, you manage to say, “Looks like you couldn’t catch me that time.”

After a few seconds of utter astonishment branding his face, a smile begins to surface. Humor lilting in his voice, he responds with, “I realize now that this is going to be a long trip.” But all teasing aside, he’d be okay with nearly breaking his tailbone on ice again, just as long as it was with you.

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feelingsdusk-writes · 6 years

Text

Runes and all kinds of things

Chapter 2

Stiles is exhausted, which is really messed up because he's been doing nothing but sleep for the past few days. Normally he would be climbing the walls in frustration by now, but to do that he has to actually manage to stay awake consistently, and he just can't. He's awake one instant and the next thing he knows he's peeling his eyes open ten minutes slash two hours later. To make matters worse, while his mind is a little foggy due to all the pain medication they're feeding him through the I.V. tube, when he's properly awake, it's jumping from one place to another too fast to keep track because he can't have his Adderall. Again, this is really frustrating because Stiles just wants to hide his head in the sand and avoid the Scott issue for a while but his mind won't let him. He's even started learning Spanish through the novelas on the TV (and, boy, wasn't his dad's face priceless when the man saw him doing exactly that, muttering an oh, Marco Enrique, no me dejes in a tone half dramatic, half drowsy, one hand feebly in the air and the other clutching his heart) but to no avail.

If he’s completely honest with himself, part of him wants to forgive Scott for everything and go back to the status quo because being at odds with him right now (anyone, really) is exhausting and well beyond his current capabilities. Whenever that thought comes by, though, he reminds himself of all the shit that has happened lately. He forces himself to remember how ever since Scott got bitten and a position on the team and the girl and popularity and options, Stiles has gradually come to be redundant, a last resort for when everything else fails but also so taken for granted that it's insulting and demeaning. And that’s not okay because for Stiles up until now Scott was on The List, with his father, Lydia and before her death, his mom.

His always first choices, always loyal to, for whom he would sacrifice anything and everything.

And doesn’t that list say anything about him? Because there hasn’t been an equal exchange between Stiles and the people on it for a while now… if ever. It hurts to think about it without lying to himself about how Lydia would always choose Jackson, Scott his mom and Allison, and his father, for quite a while, the liquor and his job over him. And he doesn’t even want to think about thinking about his mom’s last year. That way leads to madness.

(Why? Why can't he be anyone's first choice? If he's able to have more than one important person and care for them all, why do others seem to be incapable of doing the same? Or is it just about Stiles? What is it about him that makes him-?)

He stops himself ruthlessly from going down that road and forces himself to focus on the positive side. It takes him a bit, but he finally focusses on remembering how it used to be way worse and on how his father seems to have gotten his shit together over the years and now he’s at worst a highly functional alcoholic and a workaholic; On how maybe, just maybe, this thing about his dad being in the know isn’t that bad and Stiles can finally stop lying on nearly every conversation they have; Also, macabre or not, on how Gerard’s brain matter splattering on the wall means that the man won’t be able to ever touch him again. Some would actually beg for a reassurance like that and Stiles made it happen with his own two hands. Even hurt and debilitated, he did it.

The puny and weak human came out on top and beat the odds!

Isn't that exhilarating?

He clenches his fists and takes a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it go. Then he shakes his head trying to clear it and immediately groans dizzily. Damn the medication. He hates having to take it because it muddles his mind and normally (like in this case) he has to stop with the Adderall while being treated, which he hates even more than having to take the Adderall in the first place.

His mind right now is again in that state when it is a little lethargic and sluggish but at the same time trying to be all over the place, which he blames for the impromptu deep thoughts that he normally tends to avoid… and for not noticing when Allison has somehow made herself at home on one of the uncomfortable chairs beside his hospital bed, where she seems to be waiting for him to acknowledge her with her bag still in her lap, as if she's waiting for Stiles to decide whether he will allow her to remain or not.

Stiles blinks and tries to make his brain reboot because the situation does not compute. What is she doing here? Don’t get him wrong, he is grateful that she got her shit together in time to help keep him alive, but they aren’t friends, never have been. At best, they have been positive acquaintances for the sake of Scott and nothing more, and that was before her descent to the dark pit that is rage and helplessness and the quest for revenge, when it was her against everything and everyone, and God help whoever got in her path. And don't get him wrong, Stiles gets it, he really does. He probably would have done the same when his mom died if there hadn't been other things more pressing to care about. But understanding doesn't mean he wouldn't have put a bullet in her too if she had gotten in the way of his own or his loved ones' survival.

“I talked with Derek Hale,” she breaks the silence finally, after a few minutes of bearing Stiles' suspicious scrutiny with admirable grace. Even when his dark thoughts probably showed in his face.

“With? You actually got him to talk back?” he snorts skeptically, eyes a little narrowed and brows high. He isn’t proud of the almost drugged slur in his voice but his response earns him a twitch of her lips. “Impressive. Didn’t think he was actually capable of any type of conversation… besides eyebrow signing or drum communication.“

“Drums," she states flatly, but her lips twitch again. The grip she has on her bag has relaxed minutely, but she at least knows how Stiles operates because she hasn't made any move to make herself more comfortable on the chair and she's still sitting on the very edge.

“Without actual drums, you know? Like, with people? Yeah, he does that a lot. Being slammed into the wheel of my Roscoe wasn’t fun, I tell you.“ He pauses, considering it carefully and then hums as if enlightened. “But it got the message across real quick, I’ll give him that,” he finishes blithely, his smile with a nasty sharp edge that doesn't escape her notice.

“Well, there were a lot of glowers and threats… and growls and flashes of red eyes… Lots of posturing, really,” she says loftily and with enough nonchalance to make him wonder how she got him to stay put and avoided getting attacked (ah, to be a fly on that wall), before she sobers, all traces of humor gone from her face and voice. “He told me what happened. He... explained everything that he did... And that she did.”

He doesn’t answer beyond a noncommittal sound but he doesn’t have to. She isn’t stupid, after all, no matter how she is undoubtedly feeling because she let herself be manipulated, first by her aunt and then Gerard. Also his blank face right now probably says it all, because something along the lines of was it that difficult to ask and listen? is clearly depicted on it despite the lack of facial expression. He doesn’t say anything because even he knows that yes, it is that difficult, because something like what happened can mess with a person’s mind, and that’s without outside interference added on top of it. May Gerard's soul (if he actually had one of those) be in the darkest, deepest pit of hell right now being sodomized by the Devil's pointy tail.

On the TV Lucía Paola is breaking the news to Pablo Antonio (who has cancer and doesn't know it yet, but will soon because the doctor has just received the result of the tests and is about to call him) about being pregnant but she's keeping to herself, as her internal monologue tells, that the baby is in reality Marco Enrique's (dramatic music ensues), with whom she's planning to elope (more dramatic music) as soon as night comes because Pablo Antonio is a beast that doesn't treat her right. She was forced to marry him by her mother, Mariana Estrella, whom is watching with narrowed eyes from outside the room, through the cracked door. The woman is pursing her lips dangerously as her internal monologue reveals that she knows that the baby isn't Pablo Antonio's (even more dramatic music) with a derisive and downright mean voice. After that revelation, she's now looking dangerously through the window, and Marco Enrique is seen tending to the horses and laughing with another man about how mares have to be treated with gentle hands.

"¡Oh, no, Marco Enrique, cuidado!" Stiles mutters softly, voice purposely a little high, as the silence drags, earning himself an incredulous look from Allison that he studiously ignores as he inserts more dramatic music and a thunderous clap for good measure. "¡La mamá va a intentar acabar contigo seguro! ¡Y Lucía Paola no dejará a Pablo Antonio si sabe que tiene cáncer!"

So he stays silent about the matter because he understands, even if it’s very frustrating to think that a lot of problems could have been avoided that easily. Also, it’s not like her actions were a betrayal to him, because, well… positive acquaintances, duh. Where Stiles is concerned, to betray him you have to have his trust in the first place and Allison didn't. Scott did, and he betrayed Stiles by going behind his back and actively lying to him. Erica and Boyd did too, if only because he trusted them to help him after he helped them (quid pro quo at the very least) and they left him behind when Geriatric Gerard came back and things went south (more than they already had, that is). And that’s it when it comes down to it. Which reminds him…

He scowls and Allison blinks, now openly baffled, because this probably isn't what she expected when she planned to come see Stiles. He pays her no mind as his scowl deepens.

The thing is that as far as he’s concerned, at this point he doesn’t owe anything to Scott, much less Erica and Boyd. If anything it's the other way around by now, even if he will never cash it in. With Allison, they are even. He’s had to help her quite a few times and she has also helped Stiles, in both cases because of Scott. He does think Gerard was going to shoot to get her out of the way, granddaughter or not, so he saved her life... but she saved his too. So she helped him, he helped her and that's the end of it. But…

“Fuck.” Allison looks at him and arches her brow in a very Lydia reminiscent expression. He rubs his face frustrated for a moment. “I owe Peter one.”

After a second of silence she snorts, which earns her a glare that she dutifully ignores in favor of rummaging through her bag. She then proceeds to pass him a fully charged PSP and he stares at it as if it's an alien for a long minute. He arches a brow back at her lack of sympathy but turns it on nonetheless with a grumble, silently acknowledging her also silent petition for a truce/impasse/tentative friendship overture/whatever the hell you want to call it. He doesn't know why he accepts it, when he normally would have no qualms about kicking people he doesn't want around him out, but he's always trusted his gut and this time is not different, so he allows her to stay. The game starts automatically and he snorts amusedly at the screen. She not-so-quite hides a smile with her book.

“Seriously?”

Infected’s logo is on the opening screen. He rolls his eyes.

On the TV Pablo Antonio has already found out that he has cancer and Lucía Paola knows. She's crying, her mascara not budging even a bit, as she tells Marco Enrique that she can't elope with him (dramatic music) because she can't abandon her husband in that situation. When she leaves after one final kiss, Marco Enrique falls to his knees on the hay (more dramatic music) and starts crying as he softly begs her retreating back to stay. At the same time, Mariana Estrella is spying on them and has a very cruel and self-satisfied internal monologue about the whole thing after Lucía Paola has finally left, deeply enjoying the defeated and devastated look of Marco Enrique.

"Te lo dije," Stiles singsongs as he blasts a zombie in the game. "Y probablemente lo del cáncer será un error del doctor," he adds, happily blasting another one. He catches Allison's eyes at the edge of his vision and shrugs, earning an amused snort from her. "What. I was bored."

He's still confused about why she has come to him, of all people, to speak to, even if she hasn't actually talked much about it. Time will tell, he supposes, and he has it to spare right now so... Besides if she keeps bringing her PSP he's not going to kick her out, because he's already tried to convince his dad to hook up his console to the hospital's TV and been refused.

"Do you have any Mario?"

She smiles in victory, as if she did expect that outcome and Stiles rolls his eyes, lips twitching involuntarily.

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#runes and all kinds of things #teen wolf fics #my writing #teen wolf #steter

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