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TMI Tuesday! What lead you to Christ?
OOOO! I really like this one! It can be a simple answer and a complicated one depending on how I say it...
I grew up in a mostly Christian household and was witness to some miracles throughout my life. The list of what I've personally experienced can go on (and to be honest, some reading this may find it pretty stupid or illogical), and while I can't possibly list every single thing I've experienced supernaturally or through faith, I can list a few things! Get ready, cuz I'm gonna get into story-mode!
When I was about 4 years old, I lived in a house that was nearby a wooded area, but was separated by a big, dry weed field. It was wildfire season, and the wooded area had caught on fire and was headed to the field and our house. I remember the firefighters coming to take care of it, and my mom rushing me to my bedroom so I wouldn't see all the drama. But as I was headed there, I stopped by the windowsill and peeked my nose over the edge to look outside in the backyard, where the fire was happening a ways off. There, standing in the field, I saw a VERY tall individual dressed in pure white, glowing white, standing straight up, with a large sword in each hand by their side. They had this stern and serious look on their face. They turned their head towards our house, and towards the fire. That was an angel. And he was sent to protect us. And then my mom rushed me into my room, none the wiser of what I saw, until years later when I remembered and told her.
When I was in my early or mid 20s, a few years ago, I got to experience an angel (or the Holy Spirit) hugging me from behind in a church I didn't normally visit, but had made myself build up the courage to go to after not having gone to church at all for years due to severe social anxiety. They had a guest speaker that day, and I don't remember who he was, but he had somehow said something that allowed the Holy Spirit to make Himself known in the building. I was sitting at a pew, by myself. The one behind me was completely empty. As soon as that guest speaker asked the Holy Spirit to come over the church, I felt these two large, strong arms hug me from behind, like they belonged to someone who was very tall and was crouching down to hug me while I sat. It wasn't exactly physical, but it felt physical, but also in a spiritual sense. It's not something I can easily explain. But when I felt that embrace, I cried... It told me that God still saw me as someone worth loving and having a relationship with, no matter my past or present. I just needed to be open to Him... To be hugged by an angel...or perhaps the Holy Spirit... That is something I genuinely want EVERYONE to feel, because it is the most amazing experience.
Then there's my husband. <3 Ever since I was little, I felt it in my soul that I was supposed to marry someday. But, seeing so much divorce and heartache throughout life, as well as a cycle of self-hatred, can make receiving a lifelong best friend/significant other feel next to impossible. This story can be...the LONGEST one I'll EVER share if I go into every single little detail. I SWEAR, if I could write down EXACTLY EVERYTHING that lead to this miracle I now have with my beloved that God so graciously gave to me, I would probably be able to fill up a novel or more. The important thing to know is...there is absolutely NO WAY I would be living the life I do now, with the man that I love, had he and I not leaned on the Lord the whole way through. GOD made this marriage possible when we believed it to be impossible and, quite frankly, couldn't even begin to comprehend it. @fractiouslemonofficial, my husband, is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. And I love him so dearly. God has literally given me a miracle husband. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
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Just re-read my Rani & Master (100% platonic) fic and now I want to write another one because I just LOVE exploring their relationship so much. I have a neverending obsession with them
#i have SO MANY TROPES#and it's really refreshing to write about a friendship between a man and a woman#(well they're not really a man and a woman)#there's so many possibilities. the comedy. the angst. the hurt/comfort#i believe there's a novel where they got married but divorced like the next day#i haven't read that one yet but i'm pretty sure it was an accident or for their own gain but the rani couldn't stand that hoe#oh no. now i wanna write that fic too#but i also wanna write about this bit i wrote on my fic where simm!master goes to her planet looking for help#i'm sort of worldbuilding w my fics they're all conected hehe#funny how all my academy era fics are crack but TC era are mostly angst#*sobs*#doctor who#master & rani
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Heatstroke - chapter 21/23
This fic is next on my list to complete, so wish me luck! Last time, Gold and Lacey danced, and Lacey got Gold to agree to be interviewed. Here's what happened next :)
[AO3]
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Lacey smoothed her dress over her hips, turning this way and that before the mirror. She was wearing a white summer dress with a flared skirt, her feet in white strappy wedges and her hair tied up. It wasn’t the sort of outfit she usually wore to conduct interviews, but there again this wasn’t one of her usual interviews. She was not about to ask one of Storybrooke’s elderly residents about her success in growing pumpkins or making preserves. She was going to be asking Mr Gold about his life, interests and passions. And with any luck, she’d be able to experience a few of those passions for herself.
She hadn’t seen Gold since the dance, but she could still remember the way he had felt pressed against her and the scent of his cologne in her nose. She had been excited about the interview ever since, and the possibility of getting even closer to him once it was done. Ruby had teased her only a little before telling her to remember to take condoms. Just in case.
She took a final glance at her reflection, nodded decisively, and snatched up the bag with her recording equipment and notebook, throwing the strap over her shoulder. Let’s do this.
The walk to Gold’s house from her own took less than a minute, which gave her no time to be nervous, and she stomped up onto the porch and knocked on the door. He answered promptly, a tiny smile on his face, and she felt her heart thump at the gleam in his eyes.
“Miss French,” he said pleasantly. “Do come in.”
He was wearing one of his suits, black with a dark blue silk shirt and a burgundy silk tie. The shirt had a faint damask pattern, and she found that her eyes were scouring it, running over the lean lines of his body. She hurriedly raised her eyes to his to find him gazing at her steadily. Lacey bit her lip, hoping she wouldn’t blush.
“Hey,” she said quickly. “Uh - thanks for agreeing to do this.”
“You were rather persuasive, as I recall.”
“I’ve been called worse,” she said, and he chuckled, stepping aside to let her in.
“I thought we could use the study for this,” he said. “It’s down the hallway and to your left, but you’re welcome to look around.”
She sent him a smile, stepping past him and hearing him close the door behind her with a soft click as she moved left.
“I was just making some tea,” he said. “May I offer you some?”
“Uh - yeah, thanks.”
He nodded and turned away, and she heard the click of his cane as he headed for the kitchen. An open door led to the lounge, and she couldn’t resist taking a look inside, trying to imagine him relaxing there, with a book and a glass of whisky, and Darcy curled on the rug at his feet. The house was as she imagined, clean and neat, filled with beautiful things, and somehow out of its time. It smelled of beeswax and leather and some woody, earthy scent that she couldn’t quite place. The furniture seemed to be entirely antique, gleaming wood and polished brass and silk brocade, shelves set with porcelain figurines and delicate glass vases.
Lacey stepped back from peering inside the lounge, and headed slowly down the hall, heels clicking on the wooden floor. She let her eyes flick left to right, taking in the surroundings as she went, and her mouth curved upwards in a smile as she turned into what he had called the study. Bookshelves covered two of the walls, a bay window looking out over neat gardens and double glass doors which opened out onto a porch. A heavy desk sat on the wall opposite, a brass lamp to one side and a vase of deep red roses on the other.
She could hear him clattering around in the kitchen, and walked slowly around the room, eyes scanning the shelves. He had books on a wide range of subjects: volumes on antiques, art and ceramics took up one shelf, and there were books on history, law and politics. Novels made up the bulk of his collection, from what she could see, a mixture of classics and modern authors. He had three copies of Pride and Prejudice with different covers. There again, so did she. There were even some children’s books on one shelf, and she remembered that he had a young grandson. The thought of him choosing books so that his grandson might one day enjoy them made her smile.
“Here we are, then.”
Gold’s voice and the clink of china made her look around, and he entered the room with a tray balanced in one arm, shaking his head as she hurried forward.
“I’m used to getting around on my own, don’t concern yourself,” he said, and bent to slide the tray onto the small table in the bay window. The teapot, cups and saucers wobbled a little, but nothing spilled. Relieved, Lacey turned back to the bookshelves, eyeing a carved wooden bookend in the shape of an owl.
“You have some nice things,” she said. “Stock or personal?”
“Most of it’s personal,” he said from behind her. “I do rotate a few pieces between my home and the shop, but I find that if I like something enough to bring it into my home, it tends to stay there.”
Lacey turned on her toes to face him. He was standing by the window, both hands on the handle of his cane, watching her.
“Well,” she said. “I guess we should make a start.”
She spent a couple of minutes setting up her recording equipment and taking out her notebook and pencil. There were two chairs in the bay window, wing back armchairs in oxblood leather that creaked as she sat down. The chair was surprisingly comfortable, and she shifted position, tugging at the skirt of her dress and arranging it over her thighs. Gold lowered himself into the chair opposite, and Lacey pressed play on the recording equipment.
“Interview with Mr Gold, Sunday, July eighteenth at”—Lacey checked her watch—”four-oh-nine.”
She sat back and crossed her legs, meeting Gold’s eyes.
“Thank you for agreeing to this interview, Mr Gold,” she said.
“My pleasure, Miss French.”
His voice was a low rumble, and Lacey squeezed her thighs together, clearing her throat as she did so. She wondered if he knew the effect his voice had on her.
“I thought we’d start with some of your personal history,” she said. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Ask your questions,” he said.
“You promised to answer all of them, right?” she said, and he lifted one shoulder and let it fall in a lazy shrug.
“A deal’s a deal.”
“Right.”
Lacey glanced down at her notebook, where she had scribbled some of things she wanted to raise.
“So, Logan Gold, born in Glasgow, moved to the US in 1993,” she said. “Studied first at Oxford, then at Harvard, and became a lawyer. Got married, had a son and eventually obtained full custody following a pretty vicious divorce. Worked in New York for several large legal firms before settling down in the sleepy small town of Storybrooke in Maine to run a pawn shop. Quite a change of pace.”
A flick of Gold’s eyebrow was the only indication of surprise.
“You’ve done your homework,” he observed, and she shrugged.
“That’s my job.”
Gold raised a finger.
“You forgot to mention my extensive property empire,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow.
“You want me to stroke your ego, is that it?”
He showed his teeth.
“I wouldn’t want you to be accused of being anything but thorough.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “You run a pawn shop and own most of the property in town, yadda yadda yadda.”
“Well, we seem to have concluded the whistle-stop tour of my life,” he remarked. “Perhaps the interview is over.”
“Hey, not so fast!” she said immediately, making him grin. “I was just getting the dull stuff out of the way.”
Gold inclined his head.
“Ask your questions, Miss French.”
“Okay.” Lacey glanced down at her notes, her heart thudding a little. “Uh - what made you move to the US?”
“Work, mostly,” he said. “As you have already mentioned, I studied law at Oxford, and knew I wanted to pursue it as a career. I was fortunate enough to get a scholarship to study at Harvard, and I’ve been in the US ever since.”
“How easy did you find it to adjust to living in a new country?”
He pulled a face.
“It wasn’t so bad,” he said. “Perhaps because I was so busy with my studies, and then work. I didn’t have a lot of time for anything else. I think maybe it was harder to adjust when I moved out of the city. Being in New York is nothing like being in Storybrooke.”
“In what way?”
“Every way,” he said. “The pace of life is far slower, which is mostly a relief, but irritating when you want something done quickly. People are friendly, and want to get to know you. They stop to talk to you in the street, and greet you with some sort of sincerity.”
“The horror,” she remarked, and he grinned.
“Let’s just say I never did get used to that side of things.”
“Never tempted to move back?”
“No,” he said immediately. “No, I’m content to stay here.”
“And what about going back to Scotland?”
“I’ve been back a few times,” he said. “It’s changed a lot over the years. I still like to visit, but my home is here now. I’d only go back if my family decided to.”
“Your son, right?” she said. “And you have a grandson.”
“Yes. Henry.” Gold smiled faintly. “My son and his wife have spent their entire lives in the US. They’re very settled here, so I can’t see them wanting to leave, and I would never leave without them. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Miss French.”
Good.
Aloud she said: “Family’s important to you, then.”
“The most important thing in my life,” he said, with a sincerity that touched her. “I know I’ve made a lot of money, and when you consider where I came from, I imagine I’ve made a success of my life. But my family is what matters.”
Lacey tapped her pencil against her lips.
“You never remarried,” she said. “Why not?”
Gold didn’t answer immediately. He sat forward, reaching for the teapot. Lacey watched tea pour in a thin, amber stream, and he pushed a cup and saucer towards her before adding a little milk to his own tea and stirring.
“I believe you used the words ‘vicious divorce’,” he said. “I have to say that is something of an understatement. I’m afraid it rather put me off the idea of relationships.”
Lacey felt something inside her turn to stone and fall into the pit of her stomach.
“Oh,” she said. “Completely?”
Gold pulled a face, taking a sip of tea.
“Let’s just say that my son and daughter-in-law have been pestering me about dating for years and I have only recently started to entertain the idea.”
He held her gaze for a moment, and Lacey felt her heart lighten.
“Sounds as though they care about you a lot,” she observed, and he smiled.
“Yes. As I tell myself when I find their interference particularly irritating.”
She chuckled a little, and decided to change the subject.
“So why antiques?” she said, and Gold smiled, setting his cup in its saucer.
“Antiques give you a taste of other people’s lives,” he said. “Each piece in my shop has a story behind it. Someone owned it before it came to me. Perhaps it was a cherished object, set on a shelf of a display cabinet and taken out and admired. Perhaps it was wrapped in newspaper and shoved into a packing crate and ignored. Either way it’s all history, all a part of other people’s existences.”
Lacey smiled, somewhat entranced by the sound of his voice.
“It’s strange,” she said. “I didn’t think you liked people all that much.”
That tiny smile again.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t find them interesting.”
“But to go from being a top lawyer to running a shop,” she said. “It must have been a hell of a change of pace.”
“The shop’s just a hobby, really,” he said. “I enjoy it, but it’s not where I make my money. The rental business is my chief source of income, and what takes up most of my time. Scheduling repairs, arranging for renovation, that sort of thing.”
“So, no plans to expand outside Storybrooke?” she asked, and he let out a short laugh.
“No no, I’m trying to concentrate on the town itself,” he said. “You may be aware of the local entrepreneur fund that the Mayor set up last year. I’ve donated to that and provide business advice to some of those that signed up. I’ve also been involved in refurbishing some of the old warehouse buildings near the harbour. Looking to attract some local businesses there, revitalise the area.”
Lacey nodded, reaching for her tea and taking a drink.
“Very generous of you.”
“If the town prospers, so do I,” he said. “It’s good business sense, that’s all.”
“Right.” She took another drink of tea. “So we’ve covered your family, your work. I'm interested in going back to your early years, but let's deal with the present for now. What do you do in your spare time?”
Gold sat back a little, pursing his lips.
“I’m afraid it’s nothing very exciting,” he said. “I read a lot.”
“So I’ve seen.”
“I like to cook,” he added.
“Even when you’re on your own?” she asked. “I don’t know, I’ve been living alone for years, and sometimes it’s all I can do to throw a pizza in the oven.”
His mouth twitched.
“Well, food is a sensual pleasure,” he said, the tone of his voice lowering again. “It’s important to take your time. To savour it. Sometimes the most enjoyment comes from the time and care taken in its preparation.”
She was almost certain he was flirting with her.
“Time and care’s all very well, but if the execution sucks it’s wasted effort,” she said bluntly, and Gold grinned.
“Practice makes perfect.”
“True enough.”
He was still grinning, and she felt as though she was about two minutes away from launching herself at his crotch. She looked down at her notes to refocus.
“Okay, quick fire round,” she said. “Ten questions, don’t think too hard about the answers. Ready?”
He blinked at her, but nodded.
“Go ahead.”
“Sweet or savoury?”
“Sweet.”
“Coffee or tea?”
“Tea.”
“Cats or dogs?”
“I have to choose?”
Lacey nodded in acknowledgement.
“Okay, that’s fair. Cats and dogs both rule,” she said. “Winter or summer?”
“Winter.”
“Okay…” Lacey pretended to be checking her notes. “Legs or boobs?”
“What?”
“I told you, don’t think too much!”
“Uh - legs.”
“Favourite alcoholic drink?”
“Single malt whisky.”
“Favourite thing to eat?”
The flick of an eyebrow.
“Are we talking food?” he asked, his voice a low purr, and Lacey squeezed her legs together.
“You have a dirty mind, Gold.”
“You could only consider that comment dirty if your mind was also dirty.”
“Just answer the question!”
“Lamb slow-roasted with rosemary and lots of garlic.”
Lacey felt her mouth water.
“Ugh, that sounds delicious!”
“It is.”
“Okay, focus!” She rolled her eyes, more at herself than him. “Boxers or briefs?”
He grinned at that, eyebrows twitching.
“Boxers.”
“Favourite place to visit?”
“Scotland.”
“Who do you miss right now?”
“My son.”
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause. Gold was wide-eyed and looking a little shell-shocked, as though he couldn’t believe that she had asked the question and that he had answered it. Lacey smirked, tapping her pencil on the notepad.
“Well,” she said. “That’s out of the way, then.”
Gold was silent for a moment.
“I’m going to have to insist that that question and its answer don’t make it into the Storybrooke Mirror,” he said evenly, and Lacey grinned, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, and noting the way his eyes followed the movement.
“Believe me, that’s just between us,” she said, and he looked amused.
“Thank goodness for that.”
“You’re a pretty private person, huh?” she observed.
“Extremely.”
“Don’t want anyone in town knowing your business.”
“Takes the mystery out,” he quipped.
“Uh-huh.” She sat back. “So why did you agree to do this interview?”
A tiny smile made his eyes gleam.
“Perhaps I enjoyed our time together the other night.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “Does that surprise you?”
“It would have surprised me a few weeks ago,” she admitted. “Our first meetings weren’t all that promising, remember?”
“First impressions can be misleading,” he said.
“I guess so.”
There was a moment of silence, and Lacey looked him up and down very deliberately.
“If it makes you feel any better,” she said. “I want to have sex with you, too.”
Gold stared at her for a moment, and then barked a laugh.
“That wasn’t a joke,” she said, and he shook his head, waving a hand.
“No, it’s just that Emma—my daughter-in-law—she said you liked me. And she knew I had feelings for you. She knew before I did.”
“She probably knew I liked you before I did, too,” remarked Lacey. “Are we both wilfully blind, or just dumb?”
Gold laughed at that, his eyes twinkling.
“Perhaps a little of both,” he said. “Although in our defence we didn’t have the most auspicious start, did we?”
“I don’t know, I got to see you naked,” she said. “Got that out of the way.”
Gold laughed again, and Lacey put her head to the side.
“So when did your opinion change?” she asked. “Pretty sure you found me annoying as hell to start with.”
“Oh, I did,” he said, grinning. “I’m not sure when it changed.”
“How did you know it had?”
Gold sucked his teeth, raising his eyes to the ceiling for a moment before looking back.
“I had a very vivid dream about you one night that caused me to reevaluate how I felt.”
Lacey sat forward, feeling her mouth drop open.
“A dream?”
“Very. Vivid,” he said, enunciating each word, and she felt curiosity surge in her.
“What happened?”
Gold chuckled deeply.
“Oh, I’m not telling you that.”
Lacey gave him a flat look.
“Do I need to remind you about the deal we made?” she asked. “You said I could ask you anything, and you’d give me an answer.”
Gold sat back, running his hands over his face with a grumbling sigh before looking through his fingers at her.
“I didn’t mean sex dreams,” he said, his tone muffled.
“Then you should have made that an explicit term, Mr Hot-Shot Lawyer,” she countered. “And you can’t drop ‘sex dreams’ on me and then say nothing, no fair.”
He sighed again, and let his hands drop to his lap, his expression one of rueful amusement.
“Fine,” he said. “But turn off the tape.”
Lacey reached for the recording equipment, smirking at him.
“What’s the matter, don’t you trust me?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s more the unintended consequences of having this conversation recorded that’s bothering me. Fate has a twisted sense of humour, after all. With my luck it would accidentally end up being broadcast on Radio FTL’s Good Morning Storybrooke in place of the weather forecast, or something.”
“True enough,” she agreed, and switched off the recording before setting her notepad aside and turning to face him. “So. About this dream.”
Gold grumbled again.
“God, this is excruciating,” he muttered, and Lacey smirked.
“Well, you know what they say,” she said. “If you’re uncomfortable, just picture your audience naked.”
Gold stared at her, and burst out laughing again. Lacey grinned.
“Good, I can make you laugh,” she said. “Come on, tell me how we got our sexy on.”
“God, that makes it sound even worse,” he sighed.
“I’m waiting.”
Another sigh, and he ran a hand over his mouth, shaking his hair back.
“Alright,” he said eventually. “I dreamt that you came to the shop while I was going through my ledgers. You were dressed in a - uh - very tight black dress and very high heels, and you took my hand, led me into the back room, and - and went down on me.”
He seemed uncomfortable, his eyes looking everywhere but at hers, as though he were ashamed. Lacey pursed her lips.
“Huh,” she said. “I think I’ve had that same dream.”
Gold laughed out loud, shaking his head and grinning.
“You constantly surprise me, Miss French,” he said.
“Good.” Lacey pushed slowly to her feet. “Let me see if I can keep doing that.”
She took a step towards him, then another, and sank down on her knees on the rug, sitting on her heels and putting her hands on his thighs. Gold’s breathing had quickened, his nostrils flaring a little, his eyes dark and deep.
“So,” said Lacey softly. “I got on my knees, hmm?”
“Yes,” he breathed.
She slid her hands slowly up his thighs, rising up on her knees and gently pushing his legs apart.
“Like this?”
Gold swallowed hard. His hands were resting on his thighs, the fingers twitching a little, as though they ached to touch her.
“A - a little.”
“Hmm.” She shifted forward, pushing between his legs, hands sliding further up until her fingertips brushed along the edge of his waistcoat. “And then what happened?”
Gold licked his lips, his breathing unsteady.
“To my great regret,” he said. “I woke up.”
Lacey let out a soft laugh, catching his eyes with hers.
“Well then,” she said. “I guess we’ll have to improvise.”
She had shifted forward, her body pressed up against his groin, her fingers stroking his sides, and her mouth was almost close enough to touch his. His breath was cool against her lips, the tip of his nose just brushing against hers, and her heart was thumping hard in her chest.
“Improvise,” he whispered. “Yes.”
His hands slid up her sides, fingers trailing over the curves of her hips, her waist, her shoulders. Her own breathing had quickened, the throb of her pulse heavy in her lips, her throat, her groin. She gently brushed her lips against his, pulling his breath into her lungs, tasting his scent on her tongue, and when she opened her eyes his gaze was dark enough to make her shiver.
“Take me to bed,” she said, and his breath seemed to catch in his throat, his mouth twitching.
“Yes, Lacey,” he breathed. “Yes.”
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May I ask you the question on a rather delicate topic (which bothers me from time to time, when I stumble upon Murat’s mentions in Poniatowski’s biographies etc.)? It is often repeated that they resembled each other in some areas, like their love for parties, dances, horses and women...
So my question will be on that, latter topic.
We all know about Caroline, but what about other women in Joachim’s life? Did he have other significant “love interests”? Was Caroline the first woman he proposed to? Did he... cheat on her???
If you know anything on the topic could you please share it with us? ))) (Because I am very curious why did prince Murat earn such a reputation ;)
Thanks in advance!
Oooh this is going to be a fun one. :)
Murat did acquire quite a reputation for womanizing. Napoleon would say on Saint Helena that Murat "needed women like he needed food." On another occasion (and for some reason Napoleon returned to the subject of Murat's sex life on numerous occasions) he exclaimed "How many mistakes did Murat not commit in order to establish his headquarters in a chateau where there were women! He needed them every day, so I readily tolerated a general having a whore with him, in order to avoid this inconvenience." (From Gourgaud's diary, 3 April 1817.) Apparently Napoleon was quite fixated on this subject because Bertrand records similar remarks from him in an undated note assumed to be from some time in 1820: "Murat supposedly needed a woman each night, but every woman was good to him, and nothing stopped him, whether she had the pox or not." (Vol. 2 of Bertrand's Cahiers de Sainte-Hélène, pg 438) Which is likely a reference to one of Murat's more well-known mistresses, Madame Ruga, a lawyer's wife, whom he met (and possibly fell in love with) in Brescia.
But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. We'll get back to Madame Ruga.
Murat's early life is very poorly documented. Some of his early biographers allude vaguely to him womanizing while he was still a student in the seminary, and even claim that he fought a duel over a young woman before abandoning the seminary to become a soldier. Take it all with a grain of salt. The first actual evidence of Murat having an attachment to a woman, lies in his letters referencing a young woman named Mion Bastide, from his hometown. It's hard to tell how deep his feelings for her ran; he repeatedly asks his older brother for news of her--and also what her "intentions" are, and if she is flirting with the young men of La Bastide while he is away on his military duties. Perhaps they had spoken of marriage at some point while he'd been home. Anyway, he eventually got tired of her not responding to him and moved on. While a captain in the chasseurs à cheval, he apparently had an affair with a woman named Eléonore; I haven't come across any details about this, but his attachment to her was strong enough that he kept a pocketwatch with "Joachim Murat, capitaine de chasseurs à cheval: Eléonore to Joachim - do not forget her" inscribed inside; he only relinquished this watch during the 1812 campaign, as a gift to a Cossack.
During the Italian campaign, Murat had affairs with two men's wives; the aforementioned Madame Ruga, and one Madame Ghirardi (more on her shortly). Madame Ruga is described in Desaix's notes as "young, pretty; wife of a lawyer; like all the Milanese, loving pleasures, having suffered from the venom"--"the venom" (le venin) being a tactful way of saying she'd had venereal disease, which she soon passed on to Murat. "Murat is ill," Napoleon writes to Josephine on 22 July 1796; "the goddess of the ball, Mme Ruga, properly gave him une galanterie," which is another lovely old-fashioned euphemism for giving someone VD. Napoleon continues that Murat "is furious; he wants to put his adventure in the gazettes." But in typical Murat fashion, his fury burned out quickly, and he seems to have been quite infatuated with Mme Ruga--he continued the affair, which is probably what spawned Napoleon's later disgusted recollection on Saint Helena. He even temporarily neglected his duties, until Napoleon sent him a mild reprimand, to which Murat replied with indignation. "I have never had any idea which could be the least disfavorable to you," Napoleon responded drily on 21 June 1797, "but I thought that you were more necessary to your division than to your mistress in Brescia." When Murat was sent back to Italy in 1800--months after marrying Caroline--there's a very good likelihood that he resumed his affair with Mme Ruga. At any rate, they maintained contact for some time; she delivered a letter to Eugène de Beauharnais for him in 1805.
Now on to Mme Ghirardi. Apparently he also met this woman, wife of a General Lechi, in Brescia. Eventually Napoleon sent Murat to Rastadt for peace negotiations at the end of the Italian campaign. According to an article in the January 1908 Revue Napoléonienne, this is what happened next:
But Murat's conquest does not intend to let him go. Desperate to hold him back, she follows him. The beauty flees from Brescia, crosses the Alps and falls into Strasbourg; when Murat returns from Rastadt to Paris, she settles there with him and stays in the same hotel, rue des Capucins-Neufs, number 20. The adventure here is complicated by a comic novel. The husband, worthy and notable citizen of Brescia, makes a lot of noise about his misadventure and instantly demands the lost object. He brings his complaint to Milan; he comes as far as Paris to address a mournful petition to the Directory. He begs Barras and his colleagues to set themselves up as defenders of outraged morality: "Put this young woman betrayed by a vile seducer on the path of righteousness and virtue, give a mother to an innocent child; it is an honest husband who asks for this act of justice. He will be able to publish it throughout the Cisalpine and to his fellow citizens who expect it from you." (...) A singular crossover facilitated the outcome. While the husband brought his action in Paris for restitution of wife, Murat, perhaps judging that the follies of youth should not be prolonged, adopted the part of bringing the fugitive back to Brescia and resuming his military career in Italy.
Napoleon writes to Berthier to inform him that Murat is coming back to Italy to return "this heroine of Brescia," take a vacation in Rome, and then rejoin the army. And that is the last we know of Mme Ghirardi and her affair with Murat.
The short answer to your question as to whether Murat cheated on Caroline is, unfortunately, yes.
And, not to make excuses for him, but it's hard to see it turning out otherwise given that Murat was pretty set in his ways by the time of his marriage. He had long since gotten into the habit of flitting from one woman to another, and he was in his early thirties when he finally married. On top of that, his military duties made it inevitable that he would spend long periods far away from Caroline--which he did--and I just don't think he had either the self-control or the interest in remaining faithful after awhile.
(I'm just going to excerpt this next part from a post I did on Murat's relationship with Caroline awhile back, since it fits in perfectly here.)
They endured a long period of separation very early in their marriage–the first of many, adding up to several total years spent apart between 1800 and their final parting in May of 1815. Murat was sent to take command of a force in Italy in November 1800 while Caroline was pregnant with their first child; they did not see each other again until May of the following year. There are a couple of letters within Murat’s published correspondence that hint that, though he at first attempted to remain faithful to his wife during this interim, he may have given up on the endeavor prior to their reunion. The diplomat Charles Alquier, who befriended Murat in Italy, wrote to him in April 1801, lamenting not being able to spend a few days with him in Florence, teasing that he “would like to witness your gallant successes there and hear you talk about your marital fidelity, without believing it in the slightest.” The following month, after the arrival of Caroline, Alquier teases Murat again along these lines, in a postscript that reads “It was about time that Madame Murat arrived in Florence, or your hard-pressed fidelity was about to escape you.” He had almost certainly resumed his affair with Madame Ruga during this period.
There is a rather fascinating little affair that takes place early in 1806, in which Napoleon and Murat were having a simultaneous affair with a young woman named Éleonore Denuelle de la Plaigne, who was staying with the Murats at Neuilly at the time. Napoleon abruptly put an end to his affair with her when he discovered that she was also sleeping with Murat. Éleonore gave birth to a baby boy at the end of the year, and Napoleon believed the child was probably Murat's--up until he saw the boy in person prior to embarking for Saint Helena. What's particularly fascinating to me about this episode is the fact that Caroline pretty much arranged this affair for her brother--the Bonaparte siblings were so hell-bent on getting Napoleon to divorce Josephine by this point that some of them were acting like glorified pimps, hooking Napoleon up with girls left and right in hopes that he'd eventually produce a baby and prove that he wasn't to blame for the lack of an heir. But the timing of Murat, a man of proven fertility (he had four children by now), swooping in to plant a few seeds of his own at the same time that he undoubtedly knew Napoleon was bedding Éleonore just... let's just say I have theories about this. Suffice to say I think the Murats' sexual dynamic took some interesting twists and turns, and I'm fairly convinced that they each weaponized the other's sexuality on occasion--the Éleonore affair being the first example, and Caroline's affair with Metternich later on being another. This is totally, 100% my own personal theory and there's no way in hell to prove it either way, it's just my own reading of the situation given my current understanding of the personalities involved.
Anyway. The interesting thing about Murat's alleged affairs is that so few of his mistresses have been written of by name, the ones above being the exceptions. I've seen it written that he had a brief fling with the actress Mademoiselle Georges--who also allegedly had a short affair with Napoleon--but it's another one of those things that isn't well-sourced, at least from what I've found so far. As for his mistresses in Naples, I haven't come across the name of a single one. General Guglielmo Pépé only refers to them in the most general terms, remarking that King Joachim considered it dishonorable to refuse to grant a woman a favor "even were she not his mistress," and that he was especially susceptible to the "entreaties of the ladies about the Court". He also recounts Murat telling him once that "The Queen does not much like my giving audience to ladies," to which Pépé rejoined, "I pity the Queen if she notices the gallantries of Your Majesty." But I do find it extremely interesting that there seems to be absolutely no information whatsoever on any of Murat's alleged mistresses in Naples, which makes me wonder if his reputation in that area might be a bit exaggerated and if a lot of his so-called "gallantries" were simple flirtations. He never stopped being a massive flirt or enjoying having women's eyes on him. "He was very vain," Madame Fusil, an actress who met him in 1812, wrote of him, "and he liked women to watch out for him."
I hope I didn't forget anything! And thanks for the ask! ^_^
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Regret and Redemption Chapter Three
Summary-Reader has left Dean after he was caught cheating. Dean tries to prove that he can do better and wants the reader to come back home.
AU Mechanic!Dean x reader
Word count-2592
Warnings- Angst, heartbreak, language
A/N- series cover designed and mad by @talesmaniac89
It had been a little over a week since Y/N had gone by their home that morning to get her belongings. Dean had been served with the separation papers; she knew that because he had blown up her phone with calls and texts that she hadn’t answered. She couldn’t talk to him; she was taking the separation as hard as he was, except none of this had been her fault. Or had it been? She had been pondering over their whole relationship for the last week. She had wondered if some of the reasons he cheated could have been her fault. Had she not been attentive enough? Could she have spent more time with him and less writing her novels? The scenarios had played over and over in her head, always with the same outcome. If he had a problem he should have come and talked to her, not screw his secretary and God knew who else.
Y/N had managed to find a decent apartment across town. She had picked this one simply because of the distance it was away from the home she had loved. She still couldn’t believe this had happened to her. Dean had been such a loving husband in the beginning. Y/N could see the decline in his behavior now that she looked back on it. She wished there was something she could have done to keep her marriage intact, but it was too little too late now.
Dean sat in his office staring at the separation papers that he had gotten a few days ago. His heart ached every time he looked at them. She was serious and didn’t want to be his wife anymore. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He had never felt so lonely as he had the last week she wasn’t there when he got home. The empty side of her bed had been taunting him every time he walked in the room. He had been sleeping on the couch since she left, not able to sleep in their bed alone. Dean picked up his phone and sent her another text. She hadn’t responded to him since she walked away the morning he trashed the house, but he was going to keep trying.
Y/N stood in the kitchen of her new apartment when she heard her phone ding. She knew who it was, but she wanted to make sure. She should have never unblocked his number, but her uncle advised that she needed to let him have a way to contact her for their legal proceedings. She opened her phone to look at who had texted her.
Dean: I love you Y/N and I’m sorry.
She had been right. She wanted to cry and scream at the same time. Her heart ached as she missed her husband, but she also was beyond angry at him. Her emotions had been all over the place the last week. The nights were the hardest. She had not slept alone in over six years. Even with what he had done, she missed his warmth at night. He had betrayed her, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t once loved him with her whole being and missed the feeling of his body cuddled behind hers. She had been brought back from her daydream by the sound of her phone.
“Hello Dean,” Y/n said with annoyance evident in her voice.
“Hey sweetheart,” Dean said, hoping she wouldn’t hang up on him.
“Please don’t call me that Dean,” Y/N sighed. “We aren’t together anymore.”
“Yes, we are Y/N! You didn’t file for divorce. You filed for separation,” he said, a little annoyed himself.
“Obviously you got the papers but decided not to read them,” she said harshly. “We are legally separated, Dean. That means we are not considered married, but not divorced.”
“What the hell is the point in that?! Why not just file for divorce?” Dean asked her, not understanding the point.
“Because my uncle and my publicist thought this would be the best thing right now for tax purposes. It’s just until my new book comes out and we can figure out what we are going to do with our assets,” she said, “then I will file for a divorce, Dean.”
“You sure that’s what you want, Y/N?” Dean asked her through clenched teeth.
“No Dean, this isn’t what I wanted! I wanted my husband to love me and be faithful to me, but that was obviously too much to ask of you!” Y/N yelled through the phone.
“I do love you Y/N!” Dean shouted back.
“You know how much I wish it would have been enough?” Y/N said through tears as she hung up the phone.
Dean threw his phone across his office after she had hung up. Her words had destroyed him, the truth in them cutting to the bone. He realized at that moment that he hadn’t loved her enough. She hadn’t had his whole heart in a long time and that had been his fault. The booze and the ego boost he had been getting from other women had taken a spot that should have been completely hers.
The next week had flown by and Y/N was grateful. She had been so busy with her publicist getting everything ready for her book launch that she hadn’t had time to ponder on her situation much. Her publicist had set up a book launch party at a huge venue in Kansas City. She didn’t want to throw a party with the mood she had been in, but her publicist said it would really help get the word out. The release party had been scheduled for the following night and she wasn’t looking forward to it. She decided to go to bed and try to get some sleep so she would at least look like her life was together the next evening.
She woke up the next morning with a horrible feeling of dread. She couldn’t quite place it, but she felt like something was going to happen that night. She tried to shake the thought away as she made her way to the shower to get the day going. She had to get all dolled up and that took time and the venue was a four-hour drive. Luckily her publicist had hired her a private car so she could relax on the way there.
Y/N had caught up on her emails and went over her itinerary on the drive, anything to keep her mind occupied. Dean had always accompanied her to this type of thing because he knew they sometimes triggered her anxiety. He had at least been good to her in that way. If only he hadn’t betrayed her and broke her heart, she wouldn’t have to do this alone tonight.
Y/N could feel the anxiety building as they pulled up to the venue. There was already a crowd that had formed outside and all she could think was that she would rather be home. She held her breath as the driver came to open her door for her to step out. She took his hand as he helped her out onto the sidewalk and into the throngs of people. In all the hecticness of trying to get inside, she hadn’t noticed the sleek black Impala parked across the street.
Dean stood back in a corner with a whiskey in his hand as she walked through the door. She looked absolutely beautiful. His heart pounded in his chest, and he hoped she wouldn’t make a scene when she realized he was here. He knew what these things did to her anxiety and he wanted to prove that he still loved her and wanted to be there for her, to show her that he could be the man he was when they had first started dating. He silently prayed that he could prove himself to her.
Dean watched her for a while as she made her way around the room. Y/N had always been the sweet ‘girl next door’ type. No one around her could tell how uncomfortable all this made her, but he could. He could see the nervous twitch in her hands and hear how her voice would rise an octave as she spoke. He had always found that so endearing about her. She would never see herself as the beautiful, intelligent, joyful woman that she was. He had taken that joy from her and he would never forgive himself for that.
“Hi, Y/N! I am so excited to read your new book!” a woman she didn’t know had said to her.
“Thank you. I really hope you enjoy it,” Y/N said with a nervous smile. God, she hated to do stuff like this.
“Hey Y/N. I’m looking forward to the new book. Where’s Dean?” she had heard someone ask. Y/N was frozen to her spot. She didn’t want to talk about her failed marriage to people she barely knew.
“I’m sorry I’m late sweetheart! Traffic was just awful,” his voice had her spinning on her heels. There stood Dean in his three-piece suit.
“What the hell are you doing here Dean?” she whispered in his ear as she leaned in to give him a hug. She didn’t want anyone asking questions about their marriage.
“Y’all mind if I steal my beautiful wife away for a minute?” Dean asked with a fake smile.
Everyone nodded as he linked her arm through his and walked her to a more private place to talk. He could feel how tense she was and knew most of that was because of him, but he knew she wouldn’t make too much of a scene.
“What the hell Dean?!” she asked as they rounded the corner into an empty hallway. “How did you even know about this?!”
“I got an email. You forgot to unlink my email from your list on your itinerary,” Dean said with a small chuckle.
“Dammit! I knew I was forgetting something... but why did you show up?” Y/N asked him with her arms crossed over her chest.
“I know how you get when you have to do this stuff. I wanted to be here for you and I’m sure you didn’t want to answer questions about us tonight,” he said, trying to be honest with her.
“Sure Dean, you showing up here is all about me,” she said as she rolled her eyes.
“I know you don’t believe me, sweetheart...” he was cut off by the glare she was giving him. “Sorry, Y/N. I’m telling you the truth though. I was worried about you and I want to try and prove to you that I’m sorry,” Dean said sadly.
“Dean, I don’t know what to tell you. You broke me. I will never be able to trust you again,” she said as she looked away.
“I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m just asking you to give me a chance to prove that I know I fucked up!” Dean said, almost begging her.
“It won’t change anything Dean. We aren’t going to ever be together again,” she fought back tears as she said those words.
“At least let me play your husband for the rest of the night. I don’t want everyone knowing what’s going on until we have everything figured out,” he said as he reached out his hand.
Y/N looked at Dean and to his hand quite a few times before she finally took his hand. They walked back out to the main hall to the crowd of people that were there for her. She had to stop and talk to a few people as Dean looked around the venue. It had been decorated a lot like their wedding reception had. That thought gave him an idea as he excused himself and snuck to the sound booth.
Y/N had been talking to people for what seemed like an eternity. She had finally made her way to the bar that had been set up to get a drink. Y/N had never been much of a drinker, but she felt like she could use a gallon of it tonight. She had been looking around to see if she could find where Dean had gone when his voice beside her made her jump.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dean said with a laugh.
“It’s ok, I wasn’t expecting you to be right beside me. What were you saying?” she asked, taking a drink of her whiskey.
“I said that the night is almost over, and we haven’t danced,” he said to her with that crooked smile she loved so much.
“Yeah, and we aren’t going to,” she said, looking out at all the people on the dance floor that had been set up.
“Don’t you think people will find it odd that you didn’t dance with your husband? Considering we have always danced together at these things,” Dean whispered in her ear.
“Fine! No funny business Dean. I want to get this over with and go home,” Y/N said as she held her hand out to him.
Dean led her onto the dance floor. He placed her arms around his neck and then slid his hands down to her hips. He started to lightly sway them to the beat as he looked over her shoulder and nodded. Y/N had noticed but didn’t care to ask. He had probably just seen someone he knew. The notes to the song faded away as the notes to the next one began. It had only taken her seconds to recognize the melody: “Wild Horses” by The Rolling Stones. It was their wedding song, the first song they had danced to as husband and wife.
Dean felt her tense as the song began to play. He had hoped that hearing it would bring back good memories and make her miss what they had. He wrapped his arms around her tighter to hold her to him, afraid she would run if he didn’t. He could hear the sniffles and feel her tears on his chest. His heart was breaking, this had not gone as planned. He hadn’t even finished his thought when she pulled away and ran for the door. Dean was right behind her; he grabbed her arm as she was reaching for the car door.
“Y/N, please just wait!” Dean begged her.
“No! How could you do that to me? Did you really think that playing our wedding song was going to make me come back to you after what you did? Let go of me!” she yelled as she yanked her arm away from him.
“Baby, please! I miss you, Y/N! I fucking miss my wife!” Dean shouted as she opened the car door to get in.
“You should have thought about that before you cheated on me, Dean! Please, just get away from me,” she said, completely defeated.
The look on her face and the desperation in her voice made him step back. He stood on the sidewalk and watched as she disappeared. This had completely backfired. He just wanted his wife back and would do anything to prove it to her. He knew what he had to do, but was terrified to make the call. Dean pulled out his phone and dialed the number and listened as the phone began to ring.
“Please don’t hang up! I really need your help!” he pleaded to the person on the other end of the phone. “I know I have no right to ask you, but she will listen to you. Will you help me please?”
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#dean x reader#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean fanfiction#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester series#dean au#mechanic au#supernatural family#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfiction#spn famdom#spn family#reader insert
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* . desirée lindbergh was spotted in the fashion district adorning prada platform chelsea boots , with some airpod pros on . they’re most likely listening to you know i'm no good by amy winehouse . you may know them as @desi or as that aisha potter lookalike . their twenty first birthday just passed . while living in the upper east side , they’ve gained a bit of a reputation . they’re known to be duplicitous but on the other hand reliable . wonder if they’ll be the next person to hit the headlines . ( cis female / she/her + c / 21+ / she/her ) .
hey !!!!!! i was planning on coming thru with a cool intro to establish myself as a ~ cool ~ person , but covid has absolutely ✨ decimated ✨ my social skills so ,,,,,,, this is what im left with . anywho hi i’m c ( short for clown tbfh ) , im 21+ , from the rainy ole’ pnw , & i use she / her pronouns . i was in wealthy like , , , , AGES ago & tbh i’ve been missing it real bad lately so here i am with a brand new bitch , , , , , ms . desi lindbergh 🖤 i just finished reading the girl with the dragon tattoo so you’ll find elements from that novel in my biography like the names , & the general ‘ company comes first ‘ & ‘ no one gets a divorce in this family ’ attitudes . but hennyway here’s a pinterest board , & my discord is 𝐌 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁#1264 ( the best tiktok song imo ) . my bio is rambly but there are stats at the top , personality & wanted connections ( inc . this sideblog w wanted plots ) at the bottom ! xoxo
* . stats .
full name : desirée ‘ desi ’ charlotte lindbergh - montenegro
age : twenty - two
gender : cis female
pronouns : she / her
pob ; current home : london , england ; current residence in tribeca .
family : henrik lindbergh ( 80 , deceased , ceo of lindbergh corporation ) ; miriam montenegro ( 46 , lives in the upper east side & london , supermodel turned vindictive widow ) ; no siblings or pets .
birthday : september 2 , 1998 ; virgo sun , taurus moon , cancer rising .
career : heiress / model / daddy’s credit card swiper .
drinking / drugs / smoking : yes / no / occasionally .
physical : aisha potter fc , dark brown mid - length hair , dark brown eyes , no tattoos , two ear lobe piercings in each ear , 5 ′ 6 ″ .
* . character biography .
1998 : miriam montenegro , an english model coming from a humble background , made it big when she was scouted for runway shows , eventually making her way to being a household name . by the age of twenty five , she’d found love ( or , financial comfort , rather ) with the fifty nine year old henrik lindbergh , a swedish business magnate whose involvement in global industrialization spanned far wider than the european economy . the relationship took the world by surprise , miriam’s friends being far more involved in pop culture than an aged man . while she claims it was love , the world had already made up its mind on her motive — money .
the pair got married six months after they initially became involved , & desi was born a year after . her father , the product of the ‘ silent generation ‘ , was of the impression that children should be seen , not heard , an outdated idea that her mother was comfortable abiding by . desirée , by association , quickly became accustomed to the spotlight , the interest in the uncommon relationship between miriam & henrik only growing after the birth of their sole child . desi grew up a prop , a toy for her mother to dress up in matching outfits & parade on the global stage , before stepping behind closed doors & forgetting about the child entirely . this led to desi being raised almost exclusively by nannies , her mother more interested in savouring the last of her youth & her father too busy with his international duties . originally based in london , the family moved to new york when desirée was starting her schooling to be closer to the hustle & bustle of american life .
2017 : desirée is graduating high school a year early after having been sent to institut auf dem rosenberg , a swiss private school that prides itself on being highly exclusive∫ˆ highly expensive . the name was a selling point for her father , but more importantly she would be safe & out of the way on another continent while her parents bickered ceaselessly . desirée found herself to be nothing special at rosenberg , her identity having been formed on the idea that public exposure equated to popularity ; without the constant public eye while at school , desi found a freedom & lightness she hadn’t before experienced . she could be real , & have real friends , & not be putting on a fake smile to allude an air of comfort . most of all , she could get away from her spiteful mother , who , once desi hit puberty , saw her as a threat to her own beauty , success , & public popularity . being sent to private school was the best thing to happen to desi & her mother’s relationship .
after graduating , desirée moved back to new york city , moving back into the expansive upper east side apartment , & being sure to move into a room on the opposite side of the home from her parents . being thrust back into the spotlight , a ‘ homecoming ‘ of sorts that her mother capitalized on , desi fell into a depression . she feared leaving the house , she feared that people would only want to be her friend in order to access the family’s wealth ( a seed of an idea planted in her father at the age of twelve , when she was told there was to be no dating unless their family’s net worth was over 500 million ) . soon enough , though , desi made the choice to get in contact with her mother’s rival modeling agency , inquiring about the possibility about modeling . they , of course , welcomed the legacy with open arms ; her mother , however , decided that this deceipt would not be tolerated under her roof , & kicked desi out as soon as she’d heard . desi called her father crying , explaining the situation over the phone , who immediately created a separate bank account of her own for desi , secretly hidden away in an overseas bank to avoid her mother finding out . the account held far more than desirée needed , but it was her father who enabled her to get back on her feet , find her own home , & start a career for herself .
2020 : desirée hardly speaks to her mother , though they keep up the public illusion that they are as close as a mother - daughter duo can be . her father though , now 80 years old , was actually close with desi , the two catching up daily & him celebrating her accomplishments she believed were self - earned . in october , though , she received a phone call from her father’s attorney , mr. berger , who informed her that henrik was in the hospital in critical condition after a heart attack . she flew to stockholm , where her father had been taking care of business items , & realized that it was time to say her goodbyes . her father & her played chess , talked about her childhood , & reconciled on any old issues . he passed away three days after she’d arrived . seeming as if he’d been able to tell something horrible was coming , henrik had updated his will a matter of weeks before the heart attack , naming desiree as the sole inheritor of all his assets & belongings . except , of course , her mother , who inherited a whopping five dollars from her husband . this was , mr . berger explained to desi , so that miriam could not claim that she had accidentally been left out , & was entitled to more of his estate .
if this wasn’t enough , the press soon released that interntional business mogul henrik lindbergh had passed away , & the companies he owned were now owned by a twenty one year old model who had never truly worked one day in her life . to make matters worse , her mother quickly played the victim , launching a multitude of lawsuits against her own daughter for defamation & coercing her father to leave her mother out of it . berger quickly chose desirée’s side , though he couldn’t become her personal attorney out of conflict of interest with the executing of the will . as the accounts lie in limbo during the legal battle , desi is relying solely on the secret account her father made her in switzerland ; if her mother knew , she would try to go after it , as well .
2021 : desirée has layed low over the last few months , her mother continuing her public display of heartache as the widow . desi can be said to be two - faced due to her sweet disposition one day & her cold attitude the next . in reality , she is normally kind & thoughtful , giving the benefit of the doubt to those two wrong her , but lately she has become more withdrawn , secretive , & volatile . she was recently photographed in a restaurant , crying on the phone with her head in her hand , something she would never normally allow to happen . overall , though , she doesn't want to speak publicly about the legal battle because she considers it a delicate matter & wants to take the high road . because of this , she puts on a face that she's happy , has done her mourning , & intentionally does things to make it seem like life is normal , like making appearances at events about new york city & being spotted hanging out with friends . only a very small handful in her inner circle notice the immense stress she's under because she's good at managing it , & doesn't want to be pitied .
* . personality .
personality wise , she is quite bubbly , thoughtful , dependable , observant , calm , & chooses her words carefully . on the other hand , she can be very hot & cold , self - isolating , two - faced , & tells blatant lies when she ought not to , & denies vehemently when others call her on her bs . she’s the type to remember someone saying they like something , in passing , then suddenly she shows up with that exact thing when she sees them next . her love language is definitely gifts & acts of service . considers herself a good advice giver but won’t take any advice others give her . kind of an air head , in that she can get so wrapped up in her own world that she forgets that others aren’t just npc’s in her life sfjklsd . can get overwhelmed easily , & retracts back into herself & isolates in her apartment for days on end , pampering herself with huge shopping sprees , overpriced face masks , & too much champagne . her way to deal with problems is to pretend they’re not there until eventually they go away 🤡
the world knows the bulk of the lindbergh - montenegro affair , as its known in the media , thanks to her mother taking interviews left & right to allude to her being snubbed by her own daughter . desi pretends that it does not bother her , that justice will be served & that legality will prevail over her mother’s cries , but the weight of the affair is taking a toll on her .
* . wanted plots .
click here for sideblog with wanted plots !
best friend / ride or die : someone desi’s been friends with for YEARS , knows all her family’s bs , prob has called her mother a b*tch to her face dflkjsdkl . literally the nicole to her paris , the lorelai to her rory .
squad : a group of friends who go clubbing every saturday & get brunch & gossip the next morning , have shady nicknames in their gc , have designated ‘ roles ’ in the friend group ( mom friend , the cr*ckhead , the wingperson , etc . ) , go on trips together , have the wildest birthday parties , etc . please !!
first love : this would’ve been in their teens , a summer fling that she fell hard for & who her father didn’t approve of bc he’s business - minded first . they tried to do long distance when she went back to school in the fall , but it didn’t work out & now they’re either on good terms & have sweet memories of that time , or one is still kinda salty how things ended .
bad influence : encourages desi to get the stick out of her *ss , & when she hangs out with them , they tend to go overboard on whatever the entertainment of the night may be .
friends to lovers / slow - burn romance : they’re friends first , but there’s been undeniable romantic tension between the two of them ( imagine pope towards kiara in obx ) , & their friends can pick up on it . they’ve never acted on it , worried of ruining the friendship , but they’re always a lil disappointed when the other goes home with or gets involved with someone else , but are ultimately there to pick up the pieces afterwards .
enemies / mutual dislike : maybe someone whose family her father screwed in business , their parents could have been friends before desi’s mom turned on them somehow , they think desi thinks she’s queen of the world , etc . let’s plan it out hehe
cheating : oop ! i love the angst , so gimme someone who either a ) cheated on desi , or b ) they think she cheated on them due to some tabloid article , rumor around town she was seen with someone , etc . their relationship was prob rocky as fuck , toxic , & lacked trust & communication . just a total shit show tbh .
that’s all i can think of now dskljfkl please feel free to reach out over tumblr msgs or on discord !
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Uhhh they both get snowed in in cafe thats about to close Freeing marinette gets a blanket from her bookbag and has to share with felix
[Send me Felinette prompts/requests]
“How wonderful it must be, not having a soulmate.”
That was what Marinette heard cooed over her cradle every night.
Of every possible soulmate connection, she had none of them, and her parents couldn’t be prouder.
“A life of your own,” her mother marveled, “never being pressured to chase after a Prince Charming that turns out to be less than charming.”
Marinette’s parents married outside of their soulmate bond. They met their soulmates, and they were both beautiful people, the stuff out of a cheesy romance novel for certain, but they felt a greater pull to each other.
Of course, people were enraged. Marriage outside of a soulmate bond? Unheard of!
Cruel theories popped up, claiming that the reason Marinette had no bond was because of this, a punishment for ignoring the ties of fate.
Her mother whispered to her, every night and every waking moment, that it wasn’t a punishment, wasn’t a problem, wasn’t a bad thing, not to have a soulmate. But in a world where blind dates were just sketching something on a palm, it was hard to believe.
Marinette still found herself on the receiving end of brutally harsh comments at school, usually by Chloe Bourgeois, who was born from a red string of fate bond, but whose parents parted ways after seeing the soul-tattoos on her leg. Andre supported his daughter. Audrey did not.
Kinder students theorized that Marinette wasn’t made for anyone, that she would never feel romantic attraction. Marinette knew, though, from every sigh that slipped through her mouth when a cute boy passed by, that it wasn’t true.
She wanted to have that unexplainable bond with someone, she prayed every night that she would find that special someone, but to no avail.
She had wasted almost ten years of her life over someone who didn’t exist, it was time to refocus, pick up a hobby. She adored the lovely clothes she saw in the fancy shops so she decided on trying her hand at designing.
Her first item; an easily portable blanket for the phantom chills she got at random times in the day.
—
“Disgusting, a child without a soulmate bond. Mark my words, he will be a disgrace to the family name.”
Those were the words Felix heard hissed at him from nearly birth.
His mother tried desperately to calm his father, to assure him of Felix’s inner worth.
But in the end, it wasn’t enough, and she filed for divorce, a phenomenon almost unheard of in a soulmate-centric society.
Felix was never going to be a disgrace to his father’s name, because he was raised with his mother’s.
He tried to ignore his lack of a soulmate, tried to tell himself that it wasn’t necessary in becoming a successful human being, but it got harder and harder with every day.
The final straw was when his mother met her true soulmate; it turned out that Felix’s father had staged their meeting, reading the words right off of her arm. She was married happily to their bodyguard in a matter of weeks.
Felix couldn’t take it, he couldn’t tolerate people looking down at him with distaste and pity. Poor boy. No soulmate, did you know?
He dove headfirst into soulmate studies, looking for anything, anything, doctors may have missed.
His only hope was his enhanced sensitivity to the cold, which could possibly mean he had a soulmate with a sensitivity to heat.
It was barely a shred of hope, but it was the only hope he had.
—
Marinette hunkered down in a large chair, drawing furiously in her sketchbook. She had two designs due for a contest next week and a commission for the week after.
It also didn’t help that she hadn’t had a chill in weeks, which meant that she would get an especially bad one soon.
Her only solace at the moment was coffee, black, in her secret place of inspiration; the Soulmate Garden, her favorite coffee shop.
It was just outside the community garden and was famously known for romantic but casual atmosphere, which made it a perfect place for first dates between soulmates.
Which meant tons of fashion that Marinette could gain inspiration from.
The dull chatter allowed her to sink into her notebook and draw whatever her heart desired.
But soon, the chatter faded and Marinette was left in almost complete silence. She didn’t notice. She didn’t notice the baristas leaving and locking the doors. She also didn’t notice the roaring storm outside, sending torrents of snow in piles against the door.
She was her work, she was in the zone.
A muffled “thump” was heard and Marinette looked up for the first time in hours to see a boy around her age, shivering on the floor.
—
This was it. This was how he’d die.
He knew everyone was leaving, before the storm snowed them all in, but he just couldn’t stop watching.
He looked at each person, and knew, knew what their soulmate bond was before even saying a word to them.
The bouncy adventurous girl in the corner? She was certain to see a red string handing from her finger.
The timid boy curled over his book? A black mark, soon to turn to color at the touch of his soulmate.
The snarky teenager, gossiping with his friends? He drew on his arms every night in conversation with his soulmate.
It was amazing what people missed when they had a soulmate bond. They forgot about everyone else’s and focused entirely on their own, never noticing those hidden connections between personality and soulmate bond.
The girl in the big reading chair, huddled to her notebook, was a mystery. No soulmate bond seemed fit for her.
Felix shrugged it off. So he didn’t know, it wasn’t a problem.
He continued watching the people entering, but mostly leaving, the café until he was practically the only person in the building.
The barista, Lark, same song bond, had left, evidently not noticing Felix still in the room.
He shuffled to the doors and gave them a shove, wincing at the feeling of the cold glass. He tried again with all his strength but nothing. He was locked in.
The room steadily chilled and Felix felt his body spasming with shivers. He fell to the floor and shook softly, wishing he could have said goodbye to his mother.
Suddenly, a feeling of warmth enveloped him and he opened his eyes to find a blanket covering him, the girl from the chair standing over him with a worrisome expression.
“Are you okay?” She asked, crouching down beside him.
“Yes,” he sat up so he was eye level to her, “I just have an extreme sensitivity to the cold.”
“Hmm.” She looked like she was about to say something else, but stopped as shudders wracked through her body. She dove under the blanket with Felix and shuddered beside him.
“Sorry.” She looked up at him. “I get these weird cold shakes sometimes.”
“It’s understandable. Besides, this is your blanket.”
“So it’s fine if I stay under here with you?”
“Of course, it will likely help both of us keep warm.”
—
Felix woke up with the girl slumping on him, completely asleep.
A knock sounded from the door and a barista, Pierce, color blind bond, waved a set of keys in the air.
Felix quickly nudged the girl awake and stood, relief coursing through his veins.
It took some time for Pierce to push all of the snow from in front of the door, but once he did, Felix had never felt so happy to be cold.
“Frick.” The girl spoke staring down at her bag.
“What?”
She picked up her phone and shook it at him. “We had our phones the whole time.”
Felix looked at the phone for a long time before groaning.
“Yeah.” She laughed. “Anyway, do you want to exchange numbers? You seem like a nice guy, and I’d like to see if we can be friends.”
“That would be nice.” Felix agreed and told her his number, receiving a text soon after.
Unknown number: Hi :D
Blanket guy: Hello.
They talked for a while before she had to leave and get home.
Felix went home as well, and after describing the situation to his mother and stepfather, chose to take the day to rest and reread one of his favorite soulmate research books.
It wasn’t long after he had finished that his phone buzzed.
Blanket girl: I just realized I have no idea what your name is.
Blanket girl: So,,,, hi, my name is Marinette, what’s your name?
Felix answered quickly and leaned back in his chair as he waited for her reply.
“Marinette...”
@julia-evergarden
#felinette#ml felix#felix agreste#felix culpa#marinette dupain cheng#ml marinette#miraculous ladybug#soulmate au#ml soulmate au#request#mlb
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Luminous Enigma
Fantasy and Supernatural Novel By Sharina L Martin
Warning, this chapter snippit has Gory descriptions.
Chapter 6. WTF?
I've Just experienced the longest and worst day of my life.
It's 5:00am and its a freezing dark early morning, every surface outside is covered with snow. I throw the last black garbage bag into a garbage bin in a dark unpopulated alley behind some random restaurants. I made sure to fill other garbage bags with unimportant junk to cover the bags I was trying to get rid of. I close the bin then hurry and walk off with my hands stuffed in my jacket pockets.
I stuck around long enough.
Going back and forth from my SUV carrying out at least 6 or 7 bags I was really pushing it. I was so out of breath considering I was a small skinny woman, those heavy bags really took a lot out of me. I look around my surroundings once again as I approach my expensive truck. I quickly pull out my keys then unlock and start it with a push of a button. An old man walking by on the sidewalk with his dog where my SUV is parked smiles at me. I force a quick obvious fake smile and immediately hop into my truck. I watch the old man walking away with his big furry dog in my rear view mirror.
"SHIT!"
I scream to myself while repeatedly hitting my steering wheel. I snatch off the hat I wore to cover my long blond hair and throw it angrily at the windshield. I was hoping I wouldn't be spotted by anyone but that hope just went right out of the window. The day started off so normal and ended with me throwing pieces of someone's chopped up remains in a garbage bin. I don't know how it got this far, and I can't believe I've taken it this far. But I'm not going to prison for murder! I can't! My life is finally coming together. I Just found out I was pregnant a few days ago and I'm getting married to the man of my dreams in a month. His ex-girlfriend came to my house threatening to expose to him that I've been sleeping with someone else. Not only would that ruin my relationship, but it will have him doubting if the child is even his.
He's been away for months across sea's helping different countries that got hit with natural disasters. They needed more medical help and him being a respected traveling doctor, he didn't turn down the opportunity to help those in need. He comes back and visits a week or so out of every month, but I've gotten so lonely with him being gone. He'll finally be back for good in another week, but as my luck had it his ex-showed up yesterday revealing she's been watching and filming me, she even showed me a printed-out photo of me and the other man making out. I asked her what she wanted and she told me to give her fifteen thousand dollars a month for the next year. My fiancé just added me to an adjoined account but there was no way I could just take that money out. We had a lot of money, but it would be such a big repeated noticeable amount gone that it wouldn't be over looked, it was insane. She also revealed that she knew I was stalking him before we dated. She knew I was the cause of their breakup because... I framed her by making him think she broke into his mother's business and destroyed the place. At the time, I learned that her and his mother didn't get along and even argued so it was perfect. Now, she had the raw evidence proving her innocence and my guilt on many levels. She refused to be reasonable and told me to take the deal or leave it. The tramp was a scorned gold digger who lost her trophy and she wasn't letting him get away without getting some money out of him.
"This is all so unreal."
I say out loud to myself.
I was paranoid and frightened. I couldn't get the gory scene I created out of my head. All the limbs and blood that filled up my tub, I was a monster. I sawed her apart and it's a vision that I will never forget. I murdered someone in the big brand-new home that me and my fiancé were starting our life in. I took someone's child someone's friend possibly a sister. The sick part is I had so many chances to stop...
I told her to take a seat on the couch, my mind was racing a million miles a minute. She continued rubbing it in calling me a whore and calling him an idiot. She went on bragging about how she would reveal the evidence to him if I didn't pay up. She laughed at the thought of seeing me as a poor single mother struggling to raise a disgusting bastard child on my own.She went on to talk about my upbringing and how she knew I was homeless for many years then upgraded to white trailer trash.I didn't understand how she knew so much about me. She laughed at the thought of me going to jail for the crime she was falsely accused of. The more she dug up my life the angrier and more desperate I felt. The thought of being found out was eating at my insides like a virus, I almost wanted to faint as the room began to spin. Finally, in a fit of silent rage I grabbed a small marble figurine sitting on my fireplace then came up behind her and hit her on the back of her head. She fell to the side on the coach moaning in pain while swearing at me. I walked around the couch and hit her three more times until she stopped moving. I backed away while looking at her bloody head and dropping the figurine to the floor with shock. What the hell have I just done?
"NOOO!"
I cried out in desperation.
"Oh no, oh no no no no.!!"
I look down at my shaking bloody hands then back at the woman soaking my white couch with hauntingly deep red blood. I spot my cell phone on the table across the room and begin walking over to it. But I stop in my tracks.
"No, I can't call the police my life would be over! I can't do that I just can't!"
I walk back over and look at her.
"What am I going to do?"
I asked myself as I continued pacing.I kept looking from her to my phone as if fighting with my instincts on the right thing to do . My eyes finally break the back and forth cycle once I stare at the hallway that led to the garage door. Quickly, I went and grabbed a big blue tarp from my garage and rolled her onto it. I brainstormed for another couple of minutes until I decided to drag her to my downstairs bathtub. After covering her the best I could with the large tarp I began to drag her. Suddenly, I started hearing gargling and moaning coming from her. She was still alive! I stopped dragging her and stared down at the tarp with eyes as wide as saucers. In complete shock I began to once again pace back and forth while covering my mouth with my hand as tears starting falling from my eyes. I didn't know what to do, I've come so far and if she stays alive my life is sunk. Not only would I lose my fiancé and my baby, but I'd have tough charges pressed against me. Him and his family would hate me! I love his family so much! I finally felt at home with them and it would all be taken away. My child wasn't being born in prison and my child wasn't growing up without me!
Mind made up, I grabbed her legs and continued dragging her to the bathroom. I finally reach the bathroom and sit on the toilet out of exhaustion. She continues making noises as I stare at the tarp moving around slightly. I then get up from the toilet and use all my strength to get her into the large bathtub. After again catching my breath I walk out of the bathroom and head straight to my kitchen. Grabbing a large knife out of a drawer, I quickly walk back into the bathroom. For a moment I just stand at the entryway, I had to take a moment to convince myself that it had to be done. Finally, I walk into the bathroom and stand over the woman wrapped in a tarp inside of my bathtub. The knife is squeezed tightly in the palm of my hands as my breathing gets faster and faster. The woman surprisingly begins to mutter something.
"Please..."
She says in a cracked painfully desperate tone.
My eyes fill with tears as the knife burns in the palm of my hands. The woman mutters the words again but louder. It was then that I knew I had to end it. I lifted the knife up with force and brought it down with all the strength I had in me....I stabbed her repeatedly. I just stabbed her until I was convinced that she was dead. Shaken, I drop the knife then back away out of the bathroom with streams of tears running down my face. Eyes wide in sheer disbelief at myself, my back hits the closest wall and I slide down dropping to the ground. My hands and my pink sweater were covered in blood.
"HONK HONK!!!!"
Back in the present I snap out of my flashback when a car behind me honks at me for not moving after the light turned green. I begin to drive again as I let out a long sigh.Where does my life go from here?
I then find myself pulling up to an apartment complex. I couldn't understand what possessed me to drive here. I park in an empty slot and just sit in the truck.
"I don't even remember how to get home. What is going on with me?"
I put my hands in my face as begin to sob. My face and nose are quickly wet. It felt like invisible walls are closing in on me, I've ruined my life and I've taken a life. If I would have given in and gave her the money that she asked for I would have been figured out eventually. There would have been no way of hiding it! And if I told my husband about the affair he'd drop me and I'd be homeless again. If the child was his he'd take full custody and I'd never see the baby. If it wasn't his I'd be out on the streets with a baby in my stomach. I love my husband but as nice and caring as he is, he could also be a ruthless person. The man that I had an affair with was married and has four kids. He ended things with me when his wife found out about us. She threatened him with divorce and taking the kids along with her money. Even if we did decide to just stay together, he wouldn't even have any money to support the two of us. He married into money just like I did and she made him sign a prenup. He was nothing but a broke pretty boy getting taken care of...I guess it's what we both had in common.
I look back up at the apartment complex then get a moment of deja vu, this place looked familiar. I look around at all the apartment numbers and my eyes are drawn to apartment number 22 on the second floor. I turn off my truck then step out into the cold winter air and look around once more. Snow begins to lightly fall from the sky instantly reminding to reach into the car and grab my jacket. I put it on and begin to walk pass a few parked cars in their assigned stalls before I stop in front of stall 22. There parked in stall 22 was a green Volkswagen. Feeling a chill from the breeze I shove my hands into my coat pocket where I surprise myself by pulling out a pair of keys. Hooked to them was a car remote, I stare confusingly at the keys for a moment.
These aren't mine.
I then instantly remember throwing her keys in my pocket amidst my panicked rush. I look up at the beetle realizing it had the same logo as the car remote. I hit the button and the car chirped and blinked.
"What?"
I then notice that attached to these set of keys was what looked to be a personalized green key hanging on a gold frog charm. I look up at apartment 22. Oh my gosh, no way. Is this her place? Now that I think about it, not once did I wonder about how she got to my place. She must have taken a Lyft. What are the odds of me ending up here...this is so strange. I gulp and a more worried look spills across my face. Is this a twist of sick fate? Being here was a really bad idea.
I began to head back to my car but a thought stopped me and I looked back up at the apartment door.The rest of the evidence to my affair had to be in there. I couldn't just leave it; it would lead the cops to me. I grip the keys tightly in my hand just like I did the knife and curse at myself. Hesitantly I walk towards the Apartment. Finally standing in front of the door I look around before I slide the key in and unlock it. I step inside and close the door, Immediately I'm hit with a foul smell. I cover my nose with the sleeve of my jacket.
"What in the world is that smell?".....
Read Lumious Enigma on Wattpad >>> https://www.wattpad.com/story/240528799-luminous-enigma
#LuminousEnigma#Fantasy#Powers#Drama#diversity#fantasy novel#Sharina L Martin#SLMartinNovels#slmartin-novels#black authors#black writers
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Today we remember the passing of Neal Cassady who Died: February 4, 1968 in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
Neal Leon Cassady was a major figure of the Beat Generation of the 1950s and the psychedelic and counterculture movements of the 1960s. He was prominently featured as himself in the "scroll" version of Jack Kerouac's novel On the Road, and served as the model for the character Dean Moriarty in the 1957 version of that book. In many of Kerouac's later books, Cassady is represented by the character Cody Pomeray. Cassady also appeared in Allen Ginsberg's poems, and in several other works of literature by other writers.
Cassady was born to Maude Jean (Scheuer) and Neal Marshall Cassady in Salt Lake City, Utah. His mother died when he was 10, and he was raised by his alcoholic father in Denver, Colorado. Cassady spent much of his youth either living on the streets of skid row, with his father, or in reform school.
As a youth, Cassady was repeatedly involved in petty crime. He was arrested for car theft when he was 14, for shoplifting and car theft when he was 15, and for car theft and fencing stolen property when he was 16.
In 1941, the 15-year-old Cassady met Justin W. Brierly, a prominent Denver ducator. Brierly was well known as a mentor of promising young men and was impressed by Cassady's intelligence. Over the next few years, Brierly took an active role in Cassady's life. Brierly helped admit Cassady to East High School where he taught Cassady as a student, encouraged and supervised his reading, and found employment for him. Cassady continued his criminal activities, however, and was repeatedly arrested from 1942 to 1944; on at least one of these occasions, he was released by law enforcement into Brierly's safekeeping. In June 1944, Cassady was arrested for possession of stolen goods and served eleven months of a one-year prison sentence. He and Brierly actively exchanged letters during this period, even through Cassady's intermittent incarcerations; this correspondence represents Cassady's earliest surviving letters. Brierly is also believed to have been responsible for Cassady's first homosexual experience.
In October 1945, after being released from prison, Cassady married the 16-year-old LuAnne Henderson. In 1946, the couple traveled to New York City to visit their friend, Hal Chase, another protégé of Brierly. It was while visiting Chase at Columbia University that Cassady met Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. Although Cassady did not attend Columbia, he soon became friends with them and their acquaintances, some of whom later became members of the Beat Generation. While in New York, Cassady persuaded Kerouac to teach him to write fiction. Cassady's second wife, Carolyn, has stated that, "Neal, having been raised in the slums of Denver amongst the world's lost men, [was] determined to make more of himself, to become somebody, to be worthy and respected. His genius mind absorbed every book he could find, whether literature, philosophy or science. Jack had a formal education, which Neal envied, but intellectually he was more than a match for Jack, and they enjoyed long discussions on every subject."
Carolyn Robinson met Cassady in 1947, while she was studying for her Masters in Theater Arts at the University of Denver. Five weeks after LuAnne's departure, Neal got an annulment from LuAnne and married Carolyn, on April 1, 1948. Carolyn's book, Off the Road: Twenty Years with Cassady, Kerouac and Ginsberg (1990), details her marriage to Cassady and recalls him as, "the archetype of the American Man". Cassady's sexual relationship with Ginsberg lasted off and on for the next 20 years.
During this period, Cassady worked for the Southern Pacific Railroad and kept in touch with his "Beat" acquaintances, even as they became increasingly different philosophically.
The couple eventually had three children and settled down in a ranch house in Monte Sereno, California, 50 miles south of San Francisco, where Kerouac and Ginsberg sometimes visited. This home, built in 1954 with money from a settlement from Southern Pacific Railroad for a train-related accident, was demolished in August 1997. In 1950, Cassady entered into a bigamous marriage with Diane Hansen, a young model who was pregnant with his child, Curtis Hansen.
Cassady traveled cross-country with both Kerouac and Ginsberg on multiple occasions, including the trips documented in Kerouac's On the Road.
Following an arrest in 1958 for offering to share a small amount of marijuana with an undercover agent at a San Francisco nightclub, Cassady served a two-year sentence at California's San Quentin State Prison in Marin County. After his release in June 1960, he struggled to meet family obligations, and Carolyn divorced him when his parole period expired in 1963. Carolyn stated that she was looking to relieve Cassady of the burden of supporting a family, but "this was a mistake and removed the last pillar of his self-esteem".
After the divorce, in 1963, Cassady shared an apartment with Allen Ginsberg and Beat poet Charles Plymell, at 1403 Gough Street, San Francisco.
Cassady first met author Ken Kesey during the summer of 1962; he eventually became one of the Merry Pranksters, a group who formed around Kesey in 1964 who were vocal proponents of the use of psychedelic drugs.
During 1964, Cassady served as the main driver of the bus named Furthur on the iconic first half of the journey from San Francisco to New York, which was immortalized by Tom Wolfe's book, The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test (1968). Cassady appears at length in a documentary film about the Merry Pranksters and their cross-country trip, Magic Trip (2011), directed by Alex Gibney.
In January 1967, Cassady traveled to Mexico with fellow prankster George "Barely Visible" Walker and Cassady's longtime girlfriend Anne Murphy. In a beachside house just south of Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco, they were joined by Barbara Wilson and Walter Cox. All-night storytelling, speed drives in Walker's Lotus Elan, and the use of LSD made for a classic Cassady performance — "like a trained bear," Carolyn Cassady once said. Cassady was beloved for his ability to inspire others to love life. Yet at rare times he was known to express regret over his wild life, especially as it affected his family. At one point Cassady took Cox, then 19, aside and told him: "Twenty years of fast living — there's just not much left, and my kids are all screwed up. Don't do what I have done."
During the next year, Cassady's life became less stable, and the pace of his travels more frenetic. He left Mexico in May, traveling to San Francisco, Denver, New York City, and points in between. Cassady then returned to Mexico in September and October (stopping in San Antonio, on the way to visit his oldest daughter who had just given birth to his first grandchild), visited Ken Kesey's Oregon farm in December, and spent the New Year with Carolyn at a friend's house near San Francisco. Finally, in late January 1968, Cassady returned to Mexico once again.
On February 3, 1968, Cassady attended a wedding party in San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, Mexico. After the party, he went walking along a railroad track to reach the next town, but passed out in the cold and rainy night wearing nothing but a T-shirt and jeans. In the morning, he was found in a coma by the tracks, reportedly by Anton Black, later a professor at El Paso Community College, who carried Cassady over his shoulders to the local post office building. Cassady was then transported to the closest hospital where he died a few hours later on February 4, four days short of his 42nd birthday.
The exact cause of Cassady's death remains uncertain. Those who attended the wedding party confirm that he took an unknown quantity of secobarbital, a powerful barbiturate sold under the brand name Seconal. The physician who performed the autopsy wrote simply, "general congestion in all systems." When interviewed later, the physician stated that he was unable to give an accurate report because Cassady was a foreigner and there were drugs involved. "Exposure" is commonly cited as his cause of death, although his widow believes he may have died of kidney failure.
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The Virtual Sanyasi
I have been thinking about you, you are special to me. Even though you don't really know me but we do connect somewhere in this beautiful world with all the love that profoundly showers upon us and some of you may recollect your delightful love story. My love story. The story that turned me into a virtual sanyasi. Ha. I wish there were one. Just one. But there are so many. Of how frequently love has found me and how often have I lost it.
Love first found me in the neighborhood. It lived next door. I was 6. She was 5. Her name... I don’t even remember now. Ammulu was what her mum called. All I remember is that I wanted to marry her. We’d sarcastically marry so many times, circling a coconut husk lantern seven times chanting the mantra "Om Mangalyam tantunanena Om". Once, when mum was in the kitchen, I played the melody Pehla Pyaar Hai from the film Hum Aapke Hain Kaun on the tape-recorder and attempted to imitate the sheepish romance of Salman Khan where he lifts Madhuri up in his arms from the car’s bonnet. Our wooden couch turned into a makeshift car, as I lifted her at the precise moment in the song. Just before I could have given a kiss on Ammulu’s cheek (that’s what they taught us in Bollywood!), my mum caught hold of us and pulled my ears. Signs of warnings were given. Neighborhood romance: strictly prohibited. And also no to Bollywood movies as an inspiration for love. A piece of advice I had to follow to this day. And next Rakhi, our mothers made her tie a rakhi to me. End of story.
Love found me once again when I was in grade 5. I was 10. Her name was Parimala. She was in the same school, the daughter of our English teacher Sunitha Ma’am. She spoke flawless English, similar to the speed of a rocket, and astonishingly, every time she spoke with her mother, it was in English too. Wow. I felt so green with envy and inwardly cursed my parents for being educated in the Hindi medium and poke fun at me every time I tried to talk in English with them. Bada angrez ho Gaya hai, beta. My child has become quite an Englishman, they would say. I underwent a severe inferiority complex because of Pari, but soon the complex turned into reverence. She once spoke to me, in English and after she discovered that I was not too confident, she switched to Hindi. She made me feel very comfortable. I felt possibly this is love: one who cares to cause you to feel great. One day in the class, I heard that Pari has left school. Her parents are going through a divorce. I wondered why would someone want to leave Pari’s mother, Sunitha Ma’am when she spoke such good English. Must be somebody who wouldn't be comfortable with her.
Love found me once again in grade 8, in my best friend Akshay. No, I wasn’t fascinated by him but I truly cared for him. I could die for him. I would complete his pending notes, bring extra food for him for lunch. He told me that love and friendship is about loyalty. Unconditional loyalty. Once, he stole something from our classmate Deepika’s bag. I helped him steal it, by guarding our classroom door during lunch when everyone was away. When Deepika, in tears, complained to the class teacher that her new pencil box was missing, Akshay snuck it in my bag. The teacher ordered: “Who has stolen it, stand up now, else Principal will summon.” Akshay prodded me to prove my loyalty. I stood up, received deadly beatings but felt so proud. I looked at Akshay and he gave me a smug smile. I had passed his test. I had found his approval. Maybe love is approval. When he stole again, I didn’t support him. I didn’t feel like it. I had shown my loyalty once. The thrill of being appreciated was gone. When the outcry about this stealing happened, Akshay, as usual, shoved his find into my bag. I stood up again, this time to point at Akshay. He’s the thief, I said. I lost my friend, but I had lost my care for him the last time itself. The moment his approval arrived. Love succeeds when there’s no gradient of power when there’s no need for approval. Or else, the awe & the fascination goes for a toss the moment love happens.
Love found me again in grade 11, like how it finds a nerd, in plus two Chemistry practical classes. A new student had her roll number adjacent to mine and we were unfortunately paired for conducting the practical together. She was a studious girl. I developed a feeble crush. A sterling crush that grew with every chemical reaction that would happen in front of us. I thought maybe studying intensely would impress her. I topped the exams, and, scored the highest, but she would never engage in a heart-to-heart. Before the year ended, the writer in me thought I would write, not tell. We would use a pipette to suck Copper Sulphate solution and right after every suckle, we should hand it over to the next who washed the pipette before using. At the point when she gave me the pipette, I didn’t wash, as if conveying that I didn’t mind her saliva. She hardly noticed the subtlety. She has graduated in engineering post-school while I became the so-called subtle writer. Four years later, I have asked her out, subtly. She still thinks it’s a joke. Last month, she got married. I received an invitation — a subtle joke on me.
There was this one particular love that really went beyond all these. The one in which I was immensely loved back. Profusely, passionately, with no limitation. Not for weeks, or months but years though. The one where you’re loved just so much that when love ends, you don’t even know if and how to live anymore. The one where you believe everything will be just alright only if you’re with the person but the person stops feeling that way as time passes all the way. The one where love stays with one foot out, and eager to wear shoes, and run out as soon as the opportunity presents itself. And then one day, it does so. After crying high, you accept. You let the love go, you set it free for yourselves. Only to find out that it doesn’t really want to leave you, it never wanted to, it just wanted to let go of your hold because your hold was so suffocating it. Now it’s free, free not from you, but free to love you like the way it wants to get back. You find it hard to accept. It’s easier to accept departure than accepting the return in a way, especially when it’s not returning to you the way you want. But you have no choice. You have started loving this free body that your love has become, like just floating in space; loving you in ways, and you didn’t know it could, loving you in ways you didn’t think you deserved them. It’s a cosmic shower and moreover, no need for an umbrella.
The above love stories are fun and kind of adorable in light of the fact that, in all these, there was never a time when someone loved too much — neither I nor did others. Eventually, No hearts were broken; no animals were hurt. It was driven not certainly by love but either the need for approval, a childlike curiosity for intimacy, or just too shy (or too nerdy) a desire to make them notice me. These loves make for good coffee table gossip, or for your grandchildren's bedtime tale, but would rarely seep into a novel or a long heartfelt poem. There was a heart clearly, but there was no hurt in these. There was something different, a hurt that made me a writer.
Relentlessly, It makes you feel in control. It makes you feel you understand love. But you don’t yet know if it makes you feel loved. Does it? You think and figure it’s easier to be a virtual sanyasi than to be loved.
Thank you for reading,
Regards,
Mukesh Kumar
Insta : @mkwriteups
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A Series on Series 01: Bridgerton
Hi. I’m Alex, a YouTube newbie.
I resurrected this channel mostly because I wanted to do this thing. It’s something I’d planned back in 2019 and never got around to it because I was too lazy. However… life happened and I thought that with everything that happened in 2020, I should stop procrastinating. So I did nothing in 2020 -- aside from the usual like work. I was one of the lucky ones whose only inconvenience really was being unable to go outside when I wanted to -- which, to be honest, wasn’t really that often. In ordinary circumstances, I don’t really like going out. But the thought of having an actual lockdown order PREVENTING me from going out, well, that’s a whole ‘nother thing.
So 2020 was a bust, but I wanted 2021 to be different. However long this pandemic is going to go, I wanted to make better use of my ‘free’ time.
On to the show. I’m doing A Series on Series, where I talk about my favorite book series. I figured since I read a lot of them, might as well talk about them right here. So let’s start with what’s currently popular: Bridgerton.
So I watched Bridgerton on Netflix the day it came out in my country, January 1.
I’d actually read the Julia Quinn series -- all eight books -- years ago. After I watched the first season, I went back and reread the first book in the series which is the basis for this first season.
Just a disclaimer: I’m watching this through the lens of someone who has read historical romance novels almost my entire life. I understand that there are a lot of issues that should/need to be addressed here like race. However, as I’ve read the books that this series is based on, I know the period in which it’s set. That is to say, the characters are mostly white and mostly straight. It’s the overarching theme of most historical romance novels.
With that said, it’s not to say that I won’t have comments about current issues that we see play out in the series, but I just want to ground this -- this whole thing -- on my own experience mostly because that’s really my frame of reference.
On the race issue, my comments are going to be from someone who is a person of color BUT has lived all of my life in a country, Philippines, where we’re really mostly just one race. There are a lot of biracial people in my country, but for the most part our issues are nothing compared to what black people have experienced and are experiencing everywhere -- especially in the U.S. What I’m saying is, I am aware of the Black Lives Matter movement and I agree with what they stand for and what they’re fighting for. What I’m also saying is that as a person of color who lives in a country with people who have the same skin color as I am, I don’t have the same issues of representation in the media. In OUR media here, I am very much represented. However, in the U.S. people of color are in the minority and struggle with representation. I’m saying that now because we’re going to come back to that later. Also most of my comments are going to be from the lens of someone who identifies herself as a decades’ long (yes, I’m aware that I’m aging myself) historical romance reader. However, even though I used to be the kind of reader who belongs to the ‘the author is dead’ school of thought, these days, one finds it difficult to divorce the author from the work.
From “The Death of the Author,” an essay by French literary theorist, essayist, philosopher, critic and semiotician Roland Barthes. Basically, it says that the author does not factor in the reading of their work -- that their words get to be interpreted by the reader however they may. The point is not to try to understand what the author’s intentions are, and just focus on the actual work itself.
I went to school for this so I’m going to have to balance the death of the author vs my own thoughts -- immediate and otherwise -- when it comes to what I read.
So we’re good? If not, I’ll come back to it -- if you’re still here. [wink]
So in this first episode of A Series on Series: Bridgerton, I’m going to talk about my impressions regarding the series and then point out the differences between the Netflix Season 1 and the first book, The Duke and I.
First impression of the series & some issues:
I was pleasantly surprised to see a black man play the Duke of Hastings.
In the book, he is described as tall, dark-haired and with ice-blue eyes.
Also a pleasant, surprise? Queen Charlotte played by a black woman.
You see, some historians believe that Queen Charlotte was Britain’s first black queen.
She was born the youngest daughter of a duke and a princess in the Duchy of Mecklenburg-Strelitz in northern Germany. She married King George III -- yes, of Hamilton’s ‘You’ll Be Back.’
However, in this timeline set years after that, he’s more The Madness of King George.
Going back, historians are split about this because while some believe they can trace her lineage to the mixed-race branch of the Portuguese royal family and that the royal physician of her time described her as having a “true mulatto face,” other historians say that it’s never been proven.
History says that she might be black or she might not be. In the series, she is, and I had absolutely no problem believing from the get-go that the black actress playing her is in fact, Queen Charlotte.
Some people actually point out the casting of black people in the series -- not just the Duke and the Queen -- but others as well like Lady Danbury, the late Duke and the current Duke’s sparring partner, Will Mondrich -- as race baiting.
Merriam-Webster defines it as the making of verbal attacks against members of a racial group. But that’s the 1961 definition. However, its other definition says it’s the unfair use of statements about race to try to influence the actions or attitudes of a particular group of people. This, I think, applies better.
As someone who isn’t black, I feel like my opinion doesn’t hold much water here -- or at least not the ‘diamond of the first water.’ Yeah, yeah. I went there.
But for me, since the series creator -- who is white -- made a big deal of wanting a diverse cast and ‘colorbind’ casting, a lot of hype surrounded the casting of black people in these particular roles -- who are white in the book. I think certain expectations were set -- whether intentionally or not -- about what it means to cast black people in historically white roles. Hence, the issue of race-baiting.
Was that an issue for me? No. But I’m not black and I’m not the one who may or may not be baited. So what I say isn’t exactly something you can hang your hat on. However, I’ll say it anyway. I like the black actors who play their characters.
In the book, Simon is almost god-like because of how handsome he is. The actor who plays him, really hot. I don’t mind that he doesn’t have ice-blue eyes.
Lady Danbury is my favorite character because of her interactions with Simon and how fierce she is as a friend and aunt. She doesn’t feature much in the book.
Queen Charlotte, also not in the book, is great. I especially liked her in that scene with George who was lucid one moment and then crazed the next. I didn’t think this at the time, but she must have both pitied him and been afraid for herself because he did threaten her. And what does that threat really mean for her? Is it just for her? Or for her people as well?
Because as Simon says later during his conversation with Lady Danbury, their ‘elevation’ relies on the whims of this madman.
The late Duke, well, he was just mean. But that part, when he gets so mad that Simon can’t speak -- I sort of understand why he wants a perfect child. It’s self-preservation. He says that their situation is precarious, that what they have will only remain theirs as long as they remain extraordinary. I felt that vehemence there. While I don’t condone it -- after all, he’s doing this ranting at a child, his child -- I understand the reason behind it. Book OG Duke doesn’t have that reason.
The series kind of followed the book. There were certain departures, but it didn’t really bother me.
For those of you who have not seen the series and/or read the book and don’t want any spoilers, leave now.
Okay.
SPOILER ALERT
The first 9 minutes (more or less) in the series don’t actually appear in the book. But it does a good job of setting up this world. We’re introduced to the Featheringtons and the Bridgertons.
In the first book, the Featheringtons don’t really feature as much. Also, the Baron is dead there. Then there’s Marina Thompson, the Featheringtons’ distant cousin --
Not in the book.
Then there’s Lord Anthony, Viscount Bridgerton and his mistress’ (Siena) amorous activities -- also not in the book.
But I suppose it’s there to give us a glimpse of his character. You know, that he’s a playa.
Also, in the book, Daphne has come out -- as in debuted -- for nearly two seasons. In the series, it’s actually her first time hence the presentation to the queen.
Lady Danbury’s ball is in the book, but Daphne’s entrance which causes a stir due to her being proclaimed as ‘flawless’ by the Queen and --
#recordscratch
Did you think I’d forgotten about Lady Whistledown? Of course not. Especially when she’s voiced by Julie Andrews. I love that they chose her to be Lady Whistledown, but for the purpose of this comparison, I won’t be dwelling much on her, as much as I love Dame Julie Andrews.
#backtoourregularprogramming
Lady Whistledown as ‘a diamond of the first water’ doesn’t happen in the book. While book Daphne was by no means unattractive, according to her: ‘no one was dazzled by her beauty, stunned into speechlessness by her presence…’
Then there’s how Daphne and Simon meet. In the series, Daphne bumps into Simon accidentally, trying to escape Nigel Berbrook. In the book… it’s a little complicated.
First, there’s when and where (and really how their ‘grand scheme’ is concocted). In the series, it happens at Vauxhall Gardens where Simon overhears Daphne and Nigel Berbrook arguing. Then he discovers them after Daphne hits Lord Berbrook when he tries to assault her. Then Simon concocts the scheme with the dramatic cutaways of them rejoining the crowd as they watch the fireworks.
In the book, this actually happens at Lady Danbury’s ball (which we see in the series; the ball. The scene with Berbrook does happen, but it’s at the ball, off a corner. It’s how Daphne and Simon actually met. Anyway, it’s a whole coverup. They leave the unconscious Berbrook and they go back to the ballroom, separately.
Simon meets Daphne’s brothers and they end up introducing him to Daphne and they both agree to pretend that they’d never met before. Anyway, Simon gets all these looks from Lady Featherington and the other mamas and feels the need to escape. He then asks Daphne to dance.
THIS is where and when they concoct the scheme. The plan -- thought of by Simon, same in the series -- actually happens during this -- their first dance at that ball. AFTER their witty repartee, while waltzing. They multitask.
And unlike what happens in the series, the scheme didn’t happen because Daphne needed to be saved from ruin. Simon proposed it because he wanted an out from being stalked by ambitious mamas and offered it to Daphne AND this is a departure from the series -- to make her more desirable to other men.
See, in the book, Daphne always gets FRIENDZONED. I know, I know… but the term really does apply to her here. And with no malice, really.
They don’t view her as someone desirable. She says that she’s still unmarried “because everyone sees me as a friend. No one ever has any romantic interest in me. Except Nigel.”
So Simon’s reason of “men are always interested in a woman if they think other men are interested,” which he also says in the series is due to this.
So to sum up the difference: In the series, it’s to save Daphne from ruin; in the books, it’s so she no longer gets friendzoned.
So they both agree and the next day…
In the series, Daphne and Simon start to hang out and they go out on dates.
Kind of the same in the books, BUT they let Anthony in on the secret.
Anthony was incensed because Simon appears to be breaking the bro code. You know, the one where family is off limits? So they had to tell him. Of course he thinks it’s stupid, but goes along with it because he does see the benefits for Daphne.
In the series, Anthony is in the dark.
Anyway, the dates. BECAUSE this is a historical romance novel set in the regency period, book Simon isn’t quite so bold. The spoon scene?
Not in the book.
The scene where Simon basically gives WAP tips to Daphne?
Not in the book.
And the biggest plot in the series that isn’t in the book?
Yeah... he’s not in the book.
But the part where Anthony catches them in flagrante delicto?
That happens.
And the duel?
In the book.
The heartfelt speech to the queen?
Not in the book.
The scene where Mama Bridgerton tries (and fails) to explain the birds and the bees?
Happens. And it’s actually funnier in the book because Daphne asks her, “So you did this eight times?” (whisper) And her mother blushes furiously and says that, no, not just eight times because sometimes you do it because you like to.
Read the book. I found it funnier than the scene on Netflix. For one, Daphne is actually quite eager for this conversation “I’ve waited for this all week.” -- which shocks Mama.
The wedding?
Kind of the same, since Daphne only remembered the funny moments -- which were not shown in the series.
And I know you’re waiting for this: the wedding night.
Um, they were different.
For one thing, the ‘I burn for you’ line?
Not in the book.
In the series, their wedding night was pretty intense.
In the book, it starts out funny because remember Simon telling Daphne how he couldn’t marry her because he CAN’T have children? Well, Daphne -- having had what passes for sex education for women in Regency England -- thought that meant he COULDN’T have sex -- as in he’s impotent. Which sends Simon into paroxysms of laughter.
And then there was sexing.
But in the book, the sexing was confined mostly in the bedroom.
In the series, it was everywhere, including the bedroom. You know, the library (against a ladder), the mausoleum, in front of the swans near the lake
all to the tune of an orchestral version of Taylor Swift’s ���Wildest Dreams.’
BUT
You know the course of true love never runs smooth. Our lovely couple has to hit a snag. And it’s in the form of animal husbandry, planting and a little putting of two-and-two together.
How Daphne finds out is sort of the same, but also different.
Like I mentioned before, I’d read this years ago. I’d forgotten about the particulars of this. So when I saw this scene in the Netflix series, I somehow sort of hazily remembered that that’s not what happened in the book. But as soon as I re-read it, I had to put it down. Not because the scene was well-written. But because I just had so many problems with it.
Which kind of makes me thankful that they changed it for Netflix. Because in the series, Simon doesn’t come inside Daphne but this is also what convinces her that he DID lie to her. Remember that earlier scene when Mrs. Colson, the housekeeper, tells Daphne the story of Simon’s parents? How his mother died in childbirth and how his father always wanted a son and blamed his wife when she miscarries? Then Mrs. Colson says, “A womb won’t quicken without strong, healthy seed.”
In the series, Daphne clues in to this when during one of their romps, AFTER she’d spoken with Mrs. Colson and the wheels started turning, she noticed Simon spend on her handkerchief. She then marches to her maid’s room and asks her for essentially a rushed version of sex ed. Then after Daphne and Simon have dinner, they have sex… and I honestly don’t know if Simon came in her or not. But that’s when she accuses him and Simon basically admits it, they then fight. From then on, their marriage becomes strained and they sleep in separate bedrooms. So that awful scene in the book doesn’t exactly appear in the series.
Book Simon comes home drunk because he and Daphne had been fighting because of THE LIE. He manages to convince her to stay with him in bed, and she does. Then she is awakened later and as she talks to him and starts basically caressing him in his sleep, he responds. Which she realizes that this is when she could do WHATEVER she wanted, have WHATEVER she wanted.
So she basically giddyups and rides him like a cowgirl and being super extra, impressing even Simon, as is written in the book. BUT things take a turn when he starts climaxing and she essentially uses what strength she has to pin him down so he couldn’t pull out.
He’s angry and is feeling betrayed and then he starts to stutter -- which makes him angrier, with her, with himself. He’s just a confusing mass of emotions at this point.
And then he leaves for one of his other estates. Daphne goes to London and her brothers visit. One day, she assumes she’s pregnant and sends a letter with Anthony to send to Simon. Simon receives said letter and promptly sets out for London.
In the series, this doesn’t happen. They’re basically living separate lives, apart from posing for a portrait, several social engagements and a ball.
In the book, Simon goes after Daphne who’d been out riding at Hyde Park and she tells him that as it turns out she’s not pregnant. They don’t exactly resolve things there, but at least they’re talking. Daphne’s brothers sort of accost them at Simon’s house demanding that he convinces them that he loves her. Which sort of terrifies Daphne, but Simon takes her to another part of the house and in there actually professes his love, which he does unknowingly in front of her brothers who followed them.
And then sex. This time they both finish. Together. Inside. With enthusiastic consent. On both sides.
In the series, we have sort of the same but in the rain. Not just the Bridgerton boys as audience, but all of their guests.
Then sex. This time they both finish. Together. Inside. With enthusiastic consent. On both sides.
In the series, it ends with Daphne giving birth to Simon’s heir. Then we see them saying good bye to Colin who’s off to tour the continent. Book Colin actually returned FROM the continent the night of Lady Danbury’s ball.
Then we get a hint of the next season, knowing that it’s going to be Anthony’s turn.
AT THE END OF THE DAY
What do I think?
Well, the series was HIGHLY entertaining. I enjoyed watching it, which, for me, is the chief purpose of TV shows like this. So that’s one box checked.
Was it faithful to the book?
Largely, yes. And whatever departures it made didn’t take away from the book, IMO.
Was I bothered about the ‘colorblind’ casting?
No. Like I said before, I had no problems believing the black actors were the characters they played. It wasn’t a shock and it certainly wasn’t distracting.
So I loved it; I may rewatch it from time to time while waiting for Season 2 as we go into Anthony’s story in, The Viscount Who Loved Me.
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the big moments
himym au part 1 included: daniel,tara,mark, tyler, m, jane, minah, sungjae mentioned : oliver, ella, milo, astrid, minjae
2033
To the surprise of many Daniel Choi was a punctual guy, if he was given at least 3 hours notice he would arrive with time to spare. Right now all he could think as he walked into McLaren’s pub, a place that housed some of his fondest memories, was he wished he came late or better yet didn’t come at all because the only two people currently sat at the gang’s booth was Tara Lee and her husband Mark. He briefly contemplated turning around and sprinting down the busy New York street but stopped when Mark called out his name waving him over.
Damn it, Yang.
Swallowing his fear and admittedly his pride he walked over to the booth. It was one thing to deal with Tara and Mark, the disgustingly in love couple with their evil adorable daughter. The poster children for long-distance couples who managed to make it work, Tara a New York-based novelist, her popular young adult series was still in the New York’s Best Seller list despite been released 5 years ago and Mark, a kpop superstar turned music juggernaut, somehow despite their various engagements and time spent apart they couple never wavered. Unlike Daniel’s own marriage which fell apart at the first sign of distance - something, he isn’t bitter about at all, thank you very much.
The worst thing about being stuck with Tara and Mark was that he was stuck with his ex-sister-in-law and her husband who put in any awkward situations turned into a blubbering mess who spilled more words than a dictionary. At this point, Daniel would rather be stuck with his ex-husband then deal with Tara’s knowing eyes and Mark’s idle chit chat.
“A rare Choi spotting in New York? Quick Tara go buy a lotto ticket miracles are happening,” Mark joked as he slid into the seat across from them.
“Rare? His faces on buses Mark,” Tara said with a playful eye roll.
“But a live Daniel Choi in the wilderness? How much did Sungjae pay you to show up?” Mark continued the joke as Daniel waved at the bartender signalling for his usual, Lou who apparently was ageless and still worked here nodded.
“Don’t worry about it Mark you’d never be able to afford me,” Daniel laughed. “But on a serious note where is everyone? Is my watch way too fast or something?” He said looking at his watch with a frown. He was pretty sure it was set correctly and the text said McLaren’s at quarter to two, it was currently twenty to two.
“Interesting choice of wrist attire,” Tara commented. Daniel flushed, the watch was a birthday gift from Tyler of course. If anyone asked he’d feign naivety claiming he just put it on but the truth was he almost always wore it. “And I can’t speak on everyone but Ty’s dropping Oli off at our mothers,” Tara said.
Normally the mere mention of his former mother in law would make Daniel grimace but Tara had said the magic word. Oli. Despite being his ex-husband’s love child with some random woman he did not remember the name of Oliver Lee was a perfect baby who somehow managed to carve out his own space in Daniel’s heart.
“It’s a shame we are meeting here,” Daniel said just as Lou decided to bring his drink over, slamming the glass down with a glare. “BECAUSE CHILDREN AREN'T ALLOWED IN HERE GEEZ!” he yelled out trying to make sure at least his favourite bartender didn’t hate him.
“Do my eyes deceive me or is the same guy who said Milo looked like a shrivelled up prune when he was born now upset about a four-year-old not being here?” Mark said, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you were strictly anti-children,” he teased.
“I am not anti-children, I am not a monster -” Daniel huffed. “I just not particularly child-orientated and don’t bring that up again, Jane, wouldn’t talk to me for a month and when she did talk to me, the things she said,” Daniel paused to shudder. “I couldn’t sleep for months Yang, months!”
“Yeah, most people don’t like it when you insult their children, weird huh?” Tara laughed. “But no Oli won’t be joining us,” Tara said tilting her head. “You know it’s odd how the only time we see you is when it’s related to Oliver, you never came to any of Ella’s birthday parties? Are we all not friends?” Tara asked, taking a sip out of her wine.
Daniel bit his tongue, Daniel wouldn’t know if he would classify them all as friends, not anymore, after the divorce Daniel pretty much removed himself from the group and in Tara’s case after Tyler and himself announced that they were getting divorced Tara, the protective sister, didn’t hold back on what she thought of Daniel. “Ella’s birthday just happens to fall in a busy month,” he said shrugging. “Plus she has so many aunts and uncles my presence is hardly necessary.”
“I’d believe you if you actually showed up for Milo’s or Charlie’s or Astrid’s or Minjae’s -” Mark listed as Tara nodded victoriously beside him. God, he hated loved couples who were always on the same side. “I am beginning to think you might be playing favourites.”
“I have favourites? Never,” Daniel said with an eye roll. “Anyway, what have you two been up to? You know apart from picking on me,” he said.
“But it’s our favourite habit next to picking on Tyler,” Mark said with a laugh. “But Nah I’ve just been working on some new music, this one and her mini-me,” he bumping Tara lightly, “are trying to get me to write a children’s book but i am pretty sure there is only one novelist in this family,” he grinned.
“And I keep telling him that he is being silly,” Tara said with her own eye roll. “I am working on a new novel, i am trying my hand at a crime novel… my google searches have never looked more questionable,” she laughed.
“Don’t worry i am sure it still looks more normal than Tyler’s,” Daniel joked before realizing what he had just said. “I mean -” he trailed, it had just come so natural to him that he forgot he wasn’t supposed to say things like that anymore.
“Maybe in the old days but i am pretty sure his searches are related to how to raise Oli, that suits and Gucci, he has got boring in his old age,” Tara said with an eye roll. “Speaking of the old man,” she said nodding to the entry where Tyler and Jane and M were walking in.
“You were talking about me, I can tell,” Tyler said as they came over to the booth squeezing into the booth next to her. Tara grinned at him, zipping her lips. Tyler glared at her before he turned his attention to Mark. “Yang,” he said nodding before turning to Daniel. “Oh hey Daniel,” he said awkwardly, “I didn’t know you were coming,” he said smoothing out his suit. “How have you been?” he asked.
Daniel opened his mouth to open but was stopped by Jane. “No no we are not just glossing over the fact Daniel showed up,” she said as she slid into the booth beside him, “Squeeze over,” she said poking his side, Daniel sighed moving so he was effectively right up against the wall so M could get into the booth.
“Tara and Mark have gone over that in great detail,” Daniel said. “So maybe we could -”
“Oh hell no,” Jane scoffed. “Mark and Tara might have had their fun but we still have at least five shots to take at you before we can move on,” she said. “What do you think Supreme Fudge?” she asked, nudging M who stroked his chin.
“Hmm well considering he missed our anniversary dinner five seems fair,” he said. Daniel took another long sip of his drink. Showing up to group hangouts were not really for Daniel anymore, all of them were happy and living their best lives, they had their dream jobs, 6 out of the 7 were happily married and all of them had children, single childless Daniel didn’t really fit in anymore
“You might as well wait for Sungjae and Minah to show up so you can all get it over with together,” Daniel spoke. “Speaking of which does anyone know what this is about? Minah’s not pregnant again surely? They just had Minjae -”
“He is two,” M pointed out.
“And no i don’t think so, Minah would have told me by now,” Jane said.
“Maybe they are moving?” Tara suggested.
“Away from New York? After they just enrolled Astrid and Minjae into Constance’s and St Jude’s respectively - i don’t think so,” Tyler said. “Do you know how hard it is, luckily i am a legacy so Oli just gets in like that,” he said with a click.
“You don’t think they are…. You know getting the D word?” M all but whispered.
“Death?” Daniel said, frowning. “I am somehow don’t think they would be planning -”
“He meant divorce,” Mark said. ‘And i doubt it -”
“We could always just ask Minah who is here by herself,” Jane started her voice dropping when she spotted her best friend on her own. The other’s all shared a look as well. Daniel knew Sungjae and Minah were a happily married couple but surely here showing up on her own wasn’t a big deal, maybe she had gone shopping or he was with their children?
“You are all here,” Minah said surprised. “Good, that’s great, really great, great,” she said, nodding sound like she was trying to convince herself.
“Say it one more time and we might believe you,” Tara joked. It was an inside the group shared but Minah just smiled weakly as she dragged a chair over. “Okay,” Tara said uncomfortably. “ is everything -” she started to say as Minah shook her head.
“Please just let me speak,” Minah said, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply before exhaling. “Okay in about 5 minutes Sungjae will be here so when he gets here I would appreciate it if you could all pretend we haven’t already had this conversation -” she said. No one said anything but M did make a noise of protest. “RIght where to start?” she asked herself. “Well recently I’ve been feeling unwell -”
“Oh my god, you are pregnant?” Tyler said. “How did Daniel of all pick it? No offence just -”
“No, i am not pregnant,” Minah cut him off, “I really wish i was or i could be again but no I am just sick,” she said her voice cracking as she spoke. It was like that one statement had just sucked the life out of the room. Everyone stared at Minah waiting for her to continue, beside him Jane was shaking her head muttering no.
“It’s just a flu right Minah,” Jane asked, Daniel had to applaud her dedication to ignoring reality. Minah silence was a loud enough answer for Jane to start sobbing, M pulled her close as Daniel patted her back lightly.
“How bad - “ Mark started to ask but stopped when Minah shook her head.
“And you can’t fight it?” Tyler asked. “Between us all, we can find the best doctors in New York”
“In the world,” Tara added.
“Guys -” She started to speak.
“It’s too late,” Daniel finished for her. Minah looked at him perhaps surprised he guessed it.
“No, it’s not,” Jane snapped. “You and Tyler might be fine with giving up on things when it gets rough but Minah is going to -” she started before looking at Minah who was looking at her sadly. “I can’t be here right now - I need to,” she said standing up pushing past M and running into the women’s bathroom.
“I should -” Tara said, getting up to follow her.
“No let her be,” M said looking at the bathroom door frowning. “I think she just needs to -” he stopped because he didn’t really know what to say. What could you say when someone just found out her best friend was dying.
“Why are we here Minah?” Tara asked as she sat back down. “And why isn’t Sungjae here? Please tell me he knows you can’t keep this from him,” Tara said.
“He knows, “ Minah said. “I know we have our moments when it comes to communication but i would never keep something like this from him,” she said. “I called you here because I want you to promise me to look after them, Astrid, Minjae and especially Sungjae - he is going to need you more than ever,” she said.
“You don’t need us to promise that,” M said. “We would have done it regardless,” he said to Minah reaching out and grabbing her hand. “We will be here for both of you, whatever you need,” he said. A chorus of yeahs,i agrees and of course followed. Daniel nodded but said nothing, he wasn’t sure what help he could offer here, M and Jane were the best friends, Tara and Mark were the reliable ones, hell even Tyler could contribute more but Daniel was an ex-boyfriend of her husband and a person who never really spent time with her.
“So I take it you told them,” Sungjae said as he walked over. Nobody had realized he had even shown up. Minah nodded standing up and getting pulled into a hug. Soon everyone else was up pulling each other into hugs and giving words of assurance to the couple, even Jane had returned face blotchy and eyes red. Daniel stood awkwardly to the side of the group wishing he could go back in time and stop himself from coming. He promised he’d be here for the big things but he wasn’t ready for that.
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Regret and Redemption Chapter 12
Dean x reader
Mechanic!AU
Word Count-2524
Warnings-Angst, language, heartbreak
Summary- Reader has left Dean and is trying to move on with her life. Can Dean prove himself and convince her to come back home?
A/N-Thank you to my beta @emoryhemsworth and all my girls and guy for the encouragement to keep going with this series. I love you all!
Amazing series cover and text dividers courtesy of @talesmaniac89
Regret and Redemption Masterlist
Regret and Redemption Spotify Playlist
Dean stood in his bedroom, looking at himself in the mirror, adjusting his tie. He’d always hated wearing suits, but he couldn’t show up to court in a flannel. He didn’t want to go to court today at all. He wasn’t ready for his divorce to be final. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He had screwed up, and it was going to take a lot on his part to try and fix it. The last five days with Stacy had made him even more determined to get Y/N back.
Stacy had been driving him crazy. She was so high maintenance and demanding. All she seemed to care about was how she looked, and she was always worried about money. It wasn’t that Y/N didn’t care about how she looked, but that wasn’t all she cared about. Y/N was also never preoccupied with how much money they had. She’d been with Dean from the beginning when they barely had two nickels to rub together, and she had been happy. She’d said that as long as she had him, what they had didn’t matter.
Dean wondered if Stacy even cared about him at all. Luckily she had dropped the lawsuit, but at what cost? He was miserable with the woman, and all he could think about was his wife; well, his ex-wife as of later today, but that didn’t deter him from his plan to win her back one way or another. He wasn’t sure what to do about Stacy, though. He knew that he couldn’t be with her, but he had to be smart about letting her go.
Dean wondered if the baby was even his. He’d always worn protection when he was with her. He shouldn’t have been with her in the first place, but he had been careful not to bring God knows what home to Y/N. Even though he was having an affair, he knew she didn’t deserve that. He also didn’t want to be stuck in the situation he found himself in now. He’d been thinking about how she could have even gotten pregnant since she had told him. He knew that this would make it harder to convince Y/N to give him another chance.
Sam had told him to let Y/N go, but that wasn’t an option for him. She was his whole world, and he wasn’t about to let her go without a fight. He’d been too worried about himself and his issues to see it before, but never again. He vowed that he would do whatever it took to prove himself to her, and that’s what he was going to do. Y/N deserved the world, and he was going to give that to her. She was the only person who had ever truly stood behind him and believed in him. He wished every day that he could go back and see the gift she had been to him.
Dean shook the thoughts from his mind. He was already an emotional mess today and didn’t need to make it worse. He looked down at his watch to check the time and realized he needed to get going. Even though he didn’t want the divorce to happen, he didn’t want to be late. That definitely wouldn’t help his chances in convincing Y/N to give him another chance. Dean grabbed his wallet and keys and reached to turn off the light. He glanced at the bed before flipping the switch and walking out. He had to have her back in their house, in their bed, where she belonged. He just had to go along with everything for now. He had to be careful and let Stacy down easy, and he had no idea how he was going to do that just yet.
Y/N had gotten to the courthouse early and was sitting in her car, staring at the old building. Her mind and heart were fighting against one another, her heart not wanting to be without her husband and her mind knowing that was what was best. She still couldn’t believe it had come to this. She couldn’t stop wondering how it had come down to their current situation. The man she married wasn’t the man she was going to be divorcing. He had changed, and Y/N still wasn’t sure exactly how or why. All she knew was that Dean was not the man he was when she agreed to share her life with him.
She’d give anything to be able to go back and change the path they had taken. Y/N had come to realize that she wasn’t completely innocent in their marriage. She had been too wrapped up in writing her novel and had neglected her husband. Granted, he should’ve come and talked to her instead of cheating, but she had ignored him nonetheless. She would always carry that guilt with her, but that didn’t excuse what he had done. There were many other ways he could’ve handled the situation, and screwing his secretary was the worst one.
Y/N wiped away the single tear that slipped down her cheek. She had to keep herself together and get through the next couple of hours, and then she could lock herself in her apartment. This would be one of the most challenging days of her life. She was about to walk into the courtroom, still married to the love of her life, and walk back out as a single woman, leaving him and their life together behind. There was nothing she could do about it now. She didn’t think she could ever trust him again, and even if she could, he was having a baby with Stacy.
Y/N gathered her things, got out of her car, shut the door, and locked it behind her. She’d been to the courthouse many times to see her uncle, but today, the building was more intimidating than it had ever been. She’d never had to walk in a courtroom and watch a judge declare her marriage over. She’d seen many divorces happen while helping her uncle over a few summers, but it’s a lot different when it’s your marriage that’s getting dissolved. Y/N released the breath she’d been holding and walked through the parking lot and into the building.
Y/N sat in the lobby with her uncle as she waited to hear them call her into the courtroom. It was then that the front doors opened, the hinges creaking as they revealed Sam and Dean were walking in. Her breath hitched, and her heart stopped. It wasn’t often that Dean would wear a suit, but he always took her breath away when he did. Today was no different as she watched him walk over to a bench and sit down. Y/N couldn’t help but stare for a moment. No matter what he’d done, Dean was still the most handsome man she had ever seen. His eyes met hers, and for just a moment, she missed him. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, the sound of heels clicking against the tile had them both turning their heads toward the sound.
Y/N’s jaw dropped as she saw who was walking towards her husband. Stacy was there, and that pissed her off. What made her think she had the right to show up to their divorce proceedings? Y/N had started to stand when she felt her uncle’s hand on her leg. She looked at him as he shook his head, silently telling her not to go over there. Y/N sat back down with a huff and crossed her arms. If they’d been anywhere else, she wouldn’t have been able to be stopped. She glared at them while listening to the conversation that was taking place.
“What the hell are you doing here, Stacy?” Dean growled, trying to keep his voice down, the aggravation in his tone clear.
“I wanted to be here for you, baby. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I wasn’t here?” Stacy asked as she cupped Dean’s cheek.
“You wasted your time. You can’t be in the courtroom with him,” Sam said, glaring at her with daggers in his eyes.
“What?” Stacy asked, looking between Dean and Sam.
“You have no reason to be in there. This is between Dean and Y/N, and you have to stay out here. That simple,” Sam told her with a small smirk. He detested her and the fact she was even there.
“Fine!” Stacy said, sitting down with a pout as the doors to the courtroom opened.
“Winchesters?” the bailiff said as he looked around.
“Right here,” Sam said, standing to walk into the courtroom with Dean, Y/N, and her uncle right behind him.
Jess had agreed to meet Sam at the courthouse to get lunch after court. She also wanted to check on Y/N once it was all over. They’d been friends since she and Sam had started dating. Y/N had always welcomed her into her and Dean’s home with open arms, which meant a lot to her. Over the few years that she had been with Sam, they had become best friends. Jess walked to a bench and sat down next to a blonde woman talking on the phone.
“Yes, Steven, they are in the courtroom right now. The divorce is happening as we speak,” Jess realized that she was sitting next to Stacy. The room had been quiet enough that she could hear the man on the other end. Once she overheard the conversation, she started recording on her phone.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing. It’s all going to work out great,” Steven said.
“It’ll all work out until this baby comes out looking like you! What are we going to do then? Dean will know that this baby isn’t his,” Stacy said. Jess had to fight back the gasp that wanted to leave her. Stacy and whoever the guy was on the other end of the line were playing Dean.
“We’ll figure that out later. You’re just nine weeks pregnant. We have time,” Steven said.
“Whatever you say, but I have to go now. They should be out any minute. I love you,” Stacy sighed.
“I love you too, doll. Just remember that once this is over, we can be together with a shitload of money,” Steven said with a laugh.
“I can’t wait! Bye, babe,” Stacy said as she hung up the phone.
Jess couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. She had to tell Sam, but she wanted to tell him alone. The day had been hard enough on Dean, and she didn’t want to spring this on him on the same day. She knew Sam would know what to do and how to break it to Dean. Y/N needed to understand what was going on too, but she needed to let Sam talk to Dean first. Y/N didn’t have to worry about Dean’s problems anymore. Jess’s inner battle over what she should do was interrupted when the doors to the courtroom opened, and everyone walked out.
“Jess?” Y/N was shocked to see her there.
“Hey, Y/N,” Jess said as she wrapped Y/N in a hug.
“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked with a chuckle. Jess was squeezing the life out of her.
“I’m meeting Sam so we can go to lunch. How are you?” Jess whispered.
“I’ve been better, but I’ll be ok,” Y/N said with a soft smile. She didn’t want to talk about how much she was hurting standing in the courthouse lobby.
“I’m always here if you need me!” Jess exclaimed, squeezing her one last time before she let her go.
“I know you are. Thank you, Jess,” Y/N smiled, turning to walk out and to her car.
Y/N walked down the courthouse steps as the tears began to flow. It had been a lot harder than she anticipated. She’d almost lost control and cried when the judge declared them divorced. She’d spent the last eight years with Dean, and that was hard just to forget. They’d shared so many good times, so many memories she would always cherish. The fact that they would no longer be making memories together hurt. Even after what Dean did, she couldn’t forget how it had been when their marriage was stable, how much they’d loved and cherished each other, and now it was all over. Y/ N had barely made it down the steps when the familiar voice calling for her made her stop.
“Y/N, wait!” Dean shouted as he ran down the steps.
“What do you want, Dean?” she said, not turning to look at him.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m truly sorry for what happened. I was in the wrong, and I own up to that. I love you, sweetheart, and I always will,” Dean said, reaching for her arm to spin her around. The tears on her face further added to the pain he was feeling.
“I’m glad you own up to what you did, but it’s too little too late. You can say you’re sorry every day, but it won’t change that you cheated Dean. It will never change that you’re having a baby with her! A baby, Dean! Have you forgotten about that? I sure the hell haven’t!” Y/N shouted, pulling her arm out of his grasp.
“Sweetheart…” Dean sighed.
“No, Dean! You don’t get to call me that anymore! I wanted nothing more than to have a family with you, but you destroyed my dream, so go live it with your whore and leave me alone!” Y/N yelled as she turned away from him and ran to her car.
Sam, Jess, and Stacy had been standing in the courthouse’s doors, watching the scene unfold. They couldn’t hear what they’d said, but it was clear that it wasn’t good. Jess squeezed Sam’s hand the whole time for two reasons, one being that it broke her heart to see Y/N and Dean suffering as they were, and the other was it kept her from punching Stacy in the face. She’d run out the doors to Dean when Y/N ran away, leaving her and Sam alone in the lobby. Jess took her chance and turned to Sam, locking eyes with him.
“Sam, we need to talk. I heard Stacy on the phone, and it wasn’t good. You need to break the news to Dean,” Jess said.
“What’s going on, Jess?” Sam asked his fiancée, his forehead creasing with worry.
“The baby isn’t Dean’s, Sam. She’s manipulating him trying to get his money,” Jess whispered.
Sam stood frozen in place. How would he break this to his brother? He’d just lost his wife and wasn’t handling it well. How would Dean cope with this news? Sam stared out at his brother as Dean watched Y/N drive away with Stacy clinging to his arm. This was going to be a difficult conversation to have.
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The 2nd Annual Losers' Club Christmakkah Celebration
Summary: The Losers gather for their second annual Christmakkah celebration, and there is a special gift under the tree with Richie’s name on it.
Word Count: 2800-ish
Warnings: None whatsoever. This is pure fluff.
Author’s Note: Post-Chapter 2. All of the Losers are alive in this fic, including Stan, because canon can suck it. 2nd in a (at least) 3-part series where the Losers take turns hosting Christmakkah. Part 1 here.
CROSS-POSTED AT AO3.
“I checked in for our flight to Atlanta,” Richie said as he walked into the kitchen where his boyfriend, Eddie, was currently leaning down and peeking in on something that was baking in their oven. He wrapped his arms around Eddie. “Mmm. Something smells delicious.”
“I’m making a lasagna,” Eddie replied, straightening up and turning to greet Richie.
Richie planted a kiss on the top of his head before nuzzling his neck. “I meant you, babe.” He gently grazed Eddie’s pulse point with his teeth before soothing the spot with his tongue. “Taste even better.”
Eddie shivered, then leaned back with a smile. He tilted his head up for a proper kiss. “Hi.”
“Mmm. Hey yourself. How was your thesis presentation?”
“Good, really good. Dr. Cubillas seemed really happy with my research and asked me if I’d be interested in a TA position once I start the Master’s program next semester.”
Richie grinned. “Eds, that’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you, babe.”
“Thanks, Rich. I know my savings won’t last forever, so I’m glad I was able to get this 2nd Bachelor’s so quickly and it’d be good if I could make some extra money working for the university while pursuing my Master’s. Plus then I wouldn’t be up to my eyeballs in student loan debt after I graduate since my tuition would be covered.”
“Eds, I told you, if you need money I’ll give it to you, however much you need. I’d have zero problem with being your sugar daddy.”
Before Eddie could even protest, he added, “but I know how much your financial independence means to you, so just know the offer stands. I love you and I’m willing to support you in whatever way you need, be it financial, emotional, physical…” he trailed off as his hands slid down to palm Eddie’s ass, giving both cheeks a hearty squeeze.
Eddie shook his head fondly. “I love you too, Richie. And thank you.” They stood there in silence for a bit, just enjoying being in each other’s arms.
Richie could hardly believe that this was his life. Less than a year ago he had thought that he would be destined to be in lifelong (not counting the 27-year-long asshole clown-induced amnesia) unrequited love with his married, straight childhood best friend. But during the Losers’ first Christmakkah celebration, Eddie had not only announced to the Losers that he had divorced his wife and quit his job, but he had also told Richie privately that he was moving to Los Angeles to go to nursing school, and – the best news of all – that he was in love with Richie.
So now, a year later, Richie stood in his kitchen with the love of his life in his arms, getting ready to fly out to Stan’s house for their 2nd annual Losers’ Christmakkah Celebration.
Finally, Eddie reluctantly extracted himself from Richie’s embrace. “I need to get the lasagna out.”
“Ok, babe. I’m gonna go shower before dinner.” Richie gave Eddie one last kiss before heading to their bedroom.
He had just stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself when Eddie called out, “Hey, Rich?”
“Yeah?” Richie replied, walking into their bedroom from the connecting bathroom.
Eddie stood by their bed. “The teddy bear you ordered for Olivia just came in.”
Olivia was Stan and Patty’s 3-month-old daughter and the first of a new generation of Losers. She had Stan’s curly hair and Patty’s nose, and already had her uncles and aunt wrapped around her finger.
“Ok great, thanks.” Richie walked over to Eddie and wrapped his arms around him.
“I already got it in a bag and put it in the suitcase with the rest of Liv’s gifts.”
“Ok so that should be it, right? I have Bill’s gift in my suitcase and you said you had Mike’s gift shipped directly to Stan’s, right?”
This year, instead of deciding not to exchange gifts (since last year they tried that and everyone wound up bringing presents regardless) the Losers had decided to do a “holiday gift exchange” where each Loser was randomly assigned one of the others’ names and bought that person a gift.
Richie had been assigned Bill, and in true Richie fashion had bought him a copy of Save the Cat Writes a Novel as a gag gift. (He had also bought him a first edition copy of Dracula as his actual gift; Richie was a bit of a prankster, but he wasn’t a complete asshole.)
Eddie glanced over at his suitcase. “Yeah, just so it’s less that we have to carry. You’re all packed then?”
Richie quirked an eyebrow and bit back a grin. “Well no, that’s what I have you for.”
“Wait a minute, you mean our flight leaves in less than 15 hours and you’re not packed yet?” Eddie’s voice went up in pitch with each word.
Richie couldn’t keep a straight face. “Eds, babe, I’m kidding, calm down. I packed a couple of days ago according to the list you gave me. Even folded my shirts and everything.”
“That was so not funny.” Eddie glowered at him. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“Mmm, true,” Richie said sincerely, pulling Eddie even closer and tucking his head into Eddie’s neck. “I’m the luckiest motherfucker alive.”
He could feel the residual tension leave Eddie’s body. “Now, I take it that dinner’s ready, and not only that but we have an early flight to catch, so let’s eat and get ready for bed.”
____________________________________________________________
“…This is your captain speaking. I’d like to personally welcome you to Atlanta, Georgia.The time is 2:40 pm and the temperature is 61 degrees. On behalf of all of us, thank you for flying Delta.”
Richie pulled out his phone and shot off a text to Stan as soon as he and Eddie deplaned. Eds and I just landed. On our way as soon as we get our luggage.
Stan the Man: Ben & Bev and Mike are already here and I think Bill & Audra’s flight should be arriving in about an hour and a half.
Stan the Man: Eddie has our address. See you guys soon.
Richie put his phone away as he & Eddie made their way to baggage claim to collect their luggage, and soon they were on their way to Stan and Patty’s house.
Upon arriving they hauled their suitcases up Stan’s porch steps and rang the doorbell.
Stan answered the door. “Hey, guys. So glad you could make it.”
“Staniel! How’s it going?” Richie gave Stan a quick hug before turning to Patty, who was holding Olivia. “Patty, looking beautiful, as always. And how’s my favorite niece?” he cooed at Olivia.
“Hey, I take offense to that,” Beverly said jokingly as she entered the room, rubbing her growing stomach. “As I’m sure do Bill and Audra.”
Richie gave her a peck on the cheek. “Well, considering both you and Audra are having boys, Liv will continue to be my favorite niece. But don’t worry, whoever gets named after me will get the title of favorite nephew.”
“Well too bad for you then, huh?” Bev laughed.
“Yeah, yeah. Everyone knows that Uncle Richie will spoil Little Benson and Wilson just as much as I spoil Olivia.”
“I’m sure you will,” Eddie said coming up from behind him and giving Beverly a hug and a peck on the cheek as well. “Bev, how have you been feeling?”
“Just fine,” Beverly answered. “Baby’s doing great.”
“So where’s that gorgeous husband of yours?” Richie asked.
Beverly grinned. “You know how he & Mike are when they get together. They’re looking at pictures from Mike’s trip to New Orleans last month. Appreciating the architecture.”
Richie snorted. “Nerds.”
“Let me show you guys to your room,” Stan said. “I know you both probably want to take a nap and a shower before the festivities tonight.”
“I don’t know about you guys, but a nap does sound wonderful,” Beverly added. “I’m still a bit jet-lagged.”
Stan led them to one of the spare bedrooms with its own private bathroom. “We’re planning on dinner at six, so you guys can come down at any time.”
“Oh, hey, what are we doing with the gifts?” Richie asked. “We have some for Olivia and I have my exchange gift.”
“I think we’re putting them by the Christmakkah tree,” Stan said. “Thanks for the menorah ornaments, by the way.”
Richie grinned. “I couldn’t pass them up.”
Eddie grabbed the suitcase with the gifts before Richie could get to it. “Here, Rich, why don’t you go ahead and rest and I’ll go put the gifts under the tree? I’ll be right back.”
Before Richie could answer Eddie was carefully wheeling the suitcase back downstairs.
Richie shook his head fondly. That’s my Eddie.
As much as Eddie had changed over the past 27 years, at his core he was still Eddie. He was still the same neurotic, foul-mouthed, caring little shit that Richie had fallen in love with all those years ago.
I want to spend the rest of my life with him.
The thought shouldn’t have surprised Richie – after all, he had had the same thought once before when they were teenagers – but now, now, he could; that is, if Eddie would have him. Does Eddie even want to get married again?
Although they were 100% committed to each other, marriage wasn’t exactly something they had talked about.
Still, Richie let his mind wander, thinking about going out and buying a ring, planning the perfect proposal (maybe the day Eddie got his Master’s degree? Richie wasn’t sure he could wait any longer than that), sliding the ring onto Eddie’s finger…
He was still thinking when Eddie came back into the room. “Okay, Olivia’s gifts are all set out, and we really should’ve gotten something for Ben & Bev and Bill & Audra’s kids, maybe each like a onesie or something.”
He walked over to Richie and lay down next to him on the bed, noticing the obviously sappy look on Richie’s face. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Marry me, Richie thought, but instead said, “God, I love you.”
Eddie’s face instantly softened. “I love you too.”
“I’m so proud of you, you know that?” Richie continued. “I know the past year hasn’t been easy but you’ve kicked ass and managed to get your nursing degree in 3 semesters–”
Eddie snorted. “Yeah, only because all the anatomy and health classes I took the first time I was in college managed to transfer once I tested out of them, not to mention the fact that I took the max number of hours each semester and also took summer classes while you were on tour instead of going with you.”
“And not only that, but you received your degree with a 4.0 and was offered a TA position when you start the graduate program next semester.” Richie scooted closer and rolled his hips into Eddie’s. “Mmm, just thinking about playing nurse with my brilliant boyfriend is getting me all hot. Can’t wait to call you ‘Nurse Kaspbrak’ in bed.”
Eddie’s face contorted in an adorable combination of rage and laughter. “You had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”
Richie laughed. “No but really, I’m so fucking proud of you, Eds and I’m honored to be along for the ride.”
“Thank you, Rich. I’m glad you’re part of it too.” Eddie gave him a peck on the tip of his nose. “Now rest, we’ve got an exciting night ahead.”
__________________________________________________________
After a few hours’ nap Richie woke up to an empty bed but could hear the shower running.
He contemplated drifting back off to sleep when he heard the shower shut off and the bathroom door open. “Rich? You awake? It’s 5:15.”
Richie stretched and ran a hand through his messy hair, grabbing for his glasses as he sat up. “Yeah, babe, I’m up.”
Eddie gave him a quick kiss. “I’m gonna get dressed and head downstairs to see if Stan and Patty need help with anything while you’re in the shower. Meet you down there?”
Richie nodded, then slid out of bed and padded to the bathroom, where he took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and got dressed in the outfit Eddie had laid out on the bed for him – a soft lime green cashmere sweater and a pair of jeans – and headed down the stairs, where he rounded the corner to see all the Losers together.
He greeted Ben and Mike, then Bill and Audra, placing a gentle hand on Audra’s stomach when she asked him if he wanted to feel the baby kick.
He turned when he heard the click of a camera and looked up to see Eddie putting his phone away. “Blackmail photos?” he said jokingly. “Come on, Eds, all you have to do is ask in order to get me in more compromising positions.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Gotta document you being cute since it happens so rarely.”
After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room for their gift exchange. Richie took a sleeping Olivia while Stan and Patty opened her gifts.
The Losers gifted her with various toys, clothes (“I’m thinking about starting a children’s clothing line,” Beverly explained when Patty pulled a beautiful hand-stitched dress out of a gift bag), and other necessities for a baby.
Richie looked down when Olivia stirred and blinked her eyes open. “Well hello, princess,” Richie cooed. “You decided to wake up for Uncle Richie?”
He grinned as Olivia smiled at him. “Aww look, Eds, she’s smiling at me! Yes, you think Uncle Richie is funny, don’t you?”
“She’d be the only one,” Stan said dryly as he took her in order to change her now that she was awake.
“Hey, I will have you know that all of my jokes are now Eddie-approved,” Richie replied.
Eddie shrugged. “What can I say, his stand-up has improved since firing his writer.”
Once Stan had come back and set Olivia in her bassinet, it was time for the adults to exchange gifts.
Once Bill, Audra, Ben, Bev, Mike, and Patty (who had Patty, Ben, Eddie, Audra, Stan, and Bev, respectively) all had gone, Stan stood. “I had Mike,” he announced, before handing Mike his gift.
Richie glanced over at Eddie, who was studying the hem of his sweater as if it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. He opened his mouth to say something to Eddie when Stan interrupted. “Rich, you want to go next?”
Richie glanced to where 7 pairs of eyes were staring at him. “Uh, yeah, ok.”
He stood and handed Bill’s gift to him. “Merry Christmakkah, man.”
Bill laughed at the copy of Save the Cat. “I figure it’ll help you learn how to write an ending,” Richie joked.
“Thanks, Richie. This is so great.”
Richie sat back down on the sofa and Stan turned to Eddie. “Eddie, it’s your turn.”
Eddie went to the tree and grabbed a wrapped present. “I really did have it shipped here so you wouldn’t be nosing in the closets trying to find it.”
Richie ripped open the wrapping paper. “Eds, baby, this is fantastic! Thank you so much.” Eddie had bought him a new Bluetooth-enabled, all-in-one record player.
“There’s um, there’s something else, too,” Eddie said, heading back to the tree.
Richie watched as Stan and Eddie seemed to have a silent conversation before Eddie nodded, picking up a small, light blue gift bag. He silently handed it to Richie.
“Aww, thanks, babe.”
Richie untied the white ribbon that was keeping the bag shut, stuck his hand inside…
… And pulled out a note.
“Uh, Eds, baby, it’s customary to give the gag gift BEFORE giving the real gift,” he said jokingly.
“Just read it,” Eddie replied. He seemed nervous.
Richie unfolded the note. In Eddie’s neat handwriting were 5 words:
Richie, will you marry me?
What. He looked up and froze.
Eddie was down on one knee in front of him, a platinum ring in his hands.
Richie blinked. “Eds?”
Eddie took a deep breath. “Richie, exactly one year ago we took one of the biggest leaps of our lives together. Will you take another with me tonight and make me the happiest man alive?”
Richie’s eyes filled with tears. “Fuck yes,” he said, then pulled Eddie to him for a kiss.
Cheers and congratulations filled his ears.
Eddie slid the ring onto his finger. “I love you so much,” he whispered against Richie’s lips.
“I love you too.”
In the meantime, Stan and Patty had grabbed a bottle of champagne (sparkling grape juice for Bev and Audra) and had poured everyone a glass. “A toast!” Stan declared. “To Eddie and Richie: May you be friends to each other as only lovers can; and may you love each other as only best friends can. Mazel tov!”
“Mazel tov!” everyone else echoed as they raised their glasses.
Richie looked around at his friends – no, his family – as they all took a sip of their drinks, then down at Eddie, who was looking up at him with the same love and admiration that Richie himself felt for Eddie.
“Merry Christmakkah, Rich,” Eddie said softly.
“Merry Christmakkah, Eds,” he whispered before leaning down and connecting his lips to his fiance’s.
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hello, hello, hello !! i am here with my fifth muse (who i’ve been wanting to play for literally a month now dkfjgbkjsdfg so the muse is very, very, VERY strong with this one) and you can find more about her under the cut!!
trigger warnings: drugs, overdose & abuse
nina eloise connolly here was born and raised in a small town in the middle of nowhere. a little farm town where there were more cows and horses and goats than there were people
she’s the second eldest out of 4 kids and the first daughter
you’d think that the first daughter and the mother would be really close but NOPE like her parents..... should never have been parents in the first place becuse they love the pipe and the bottle more than they’ve ever loved their own kids
sometimes things were find in that household, but most of the time, it wasn’t. her mother was a quiet drunk, moreso when she was high but her father’s a pretty volatile person and wasn’t above laying his hands on his children to release some of his pent up anger
her older brother, the eldest of the connolly children, took up most of the abuse but sometimes nina was there too because she hated that her brother had this tendency to play the hero
by the time she was 13, her dad died because of an overdose, and you’d think her mother would actually step up and become a mother but even though she TRIED or said she would and even managed to be clean for a couple of months, she still hit that pipe every once in awhile and it was just a vicious cycle
eventually, nina just stopped caring, stopped hoping that she’d actually stick to her word because it was just a constant barrage of disappointment every single time
nina was working by the time she was 12, babysitting the kids nearby and just taking every chance she could get to get out of that house. she hated being there. she hated being around her mom. she hated feeling like her entire life was a burden when she never asked to be born in the first place, she hated just how relieved she feels that her father is no longer with them..............which made her feel horrible as a daughter
in school, nina is like whip-smart but she was always the girl who had potential and it was actually comical how frustrated the teachers get when it came to her and how she could go places if she just applied herself
she wanted to tell them that the last thing she wanted was to deal with schoolwork when they barely have food on the table because her parents spent all their money on their next heroin hit
she worked at the stables owned by a filipino couple for some extra money and her love for horses just grew like she adores the animals, loves just how majestic and free they are, and she sometimes sleeps over at that stable just because she doesn’t wanna go home to her house
the filipino couple lets her ride a mare that nina has pretty much come to think of as her own and they urged her to try and become a professional equestrian but nina didn’t have it in her to stay there in that tiny, tiny town and stick close to her family when all she wanted to do was leave
which was exactly what she did as soon as she graduated high school. she packed up her stuff, went with a friend to new york and that’s where she’s been the past couple of years
there was this weird limbo of time after graduating high school and before starting college that was just her working her butt off to save up enough to allow her to go to college and learning to play the piano because she wanted to actually be good at something other than riding (which she misses terribly)
during her first semester, she ended up meeting this cop who she ended up falling in love with and inspired her to shift her course to criminal justice which was a good move tbh because she’s always been a lover of mystery and murder documentaries (not like her parents were alarmed or anything since they never really cared about her existence except to complain or get angry about)
she got her degree, ended up marrying her cop boyfriend and then proceeded to work in new york as a private investigator once she passed the state exam to get her license, though she and her husband worked in different precincts
they had a pretty good marriage for awhile but she noticed when she was in her late twenties that her husband kept wanting them to have babies. at first, it was just questions here and there whether she’d want to -- the answer was always ‘not now’ -- until eventually he started demanding it from her which caused such a rift between them
nina wanted to focus on her career because she absolutely loved her profession and she definitely wasn’t ready to settle down and be a mom, especially when she has no idea if she’d actually be a good one since she never had a good example of on in her life
the final straw came when she received a job opportunity to work in charming two years ago and her husband FORBADE it. according to him, she wasn’t ALLOWED to go since they already had a great life in new york. he didn’t understand why she’d give that up to work in a small town on the other side of the country.
it was then that nina realized just how suffocated she was under all his demands -- wanting her to be the perfect wife for him, wanting him to have his children and she usually ended up tiptoeing around the issues and the fights until he’d calm down but not this time. she WANTED to go to charming and actually make a name for herself, and the more he said that she couldn’t, the more she wanted to, the more she fought on him about how it was her life and she had every right to choose what to do with it
they ended up divorcing right before she moved to charming two years ago for such a fresh start since she didn’t know anybody AT ALL
personality & extra!!
she................. loves books more than she loves people. bonus points if it’s a mystery novel because she always tries to solve it before she reaches the end
LITERALLY has a large af corkboard in her room, red string and all because she..... is that person when it comes to her cases omg
she’s part of a ragtag group of people who call themselves a band who performs at bars here in charming every other weekend for free beer. they know they have 0 chances of actually making it big but that’s totally fine with her since it’s more of a hobby anyway. she’s the pianist and back up vocals!!
she and her ex-husband do not talk. like at all. looking back, she doesn’t understand how she let that marriage go for as long as she did and why she allowed him to think it was okay to pressure her into having kids when she had said from the start that she didn’t really have any intentions of becoming a mother
she’s never done drugs and she has no plan to. she looks down on the gang solely because she doesn’t understand how they can sleep well at night knowing they’re getting richer by ruining other people’s lives through those drugs. she understands that the drugs were what killed her father and ruined any chance her parents had at becoming good parents so she tends to stay as far away from them as possible
her only vice is alcohol (but she rarely gets drunk because she doesn’t like how much it reminds her of how her parents were like when they were drunk) and smoking which she does when she’s stressed (which, depending on the case she’s working on, might be all the time)
her life is pretty much like a french movie - lots of smoking, lots of kissing, lots of staring off into the distance, tinged in like this weird gray color
she just !!! tries to keep herself composed and classy because the years of being called trailer trash are long gone now and those years of being called that just made her want to become a better person and she’s SO PROUD OF HERSELF for working her ass off so she could get to where she is now
that also means that she doesn’t really talk about her past a lot because she’s ashamed of being tied into that kind of lifestyle. when you ask her about her family, she’ll only talk to you about her siblings and that’s pretty much it. even the people she’s close to, she only mentions her parents in like.... VERY RARE moments of vulnerability and then she’s quick to change the subject because she....... doesn’t want to dwell on any of it. she’s very closed off in that sense and is an expert in deflecting conversation so that it like veers towards you and she’ll very happily listen instead
she talks to her sister a lot because she stayed behind in their tiny town because she 1. doesn’t want to leave and 2. actually likes looking out for their mom who somehow managed to stay clean when nina had already been in new york for a couple of years.
up to this day, she has never spoken to her mom. never even invited her to her wedding (though it was just in the courthouse but then was also just like a really tiny get together with a couple of their friends) and she just doesn’t believe she’s actually clean. she doesn’t know how to pair the image of a ‘good mom’ to the mom that she had growing up
(also *cue eleanor shellstrop moment* where she’s like hella bitter that she changed when it was just her sister there which meant that either she hadn’t been ready to change then when nina still wanted a mom or just never actually believed nina was good enough to be changed for)
is a pretty decent cook lbr but she loves pasta and pizza more than anything even tho she knows they’re not healthy
she just has this love for like art in every form, like she already shows her love for music by being in that band but she also paints sometimes but she can’t sketch to save her life like she’s just always wanting to try new things because like she’s really digging the fact that she CAN now. she has the absolute freedom to do whatever it is that she wanted and that’s so LIBERATING
literally has a horse tattoo on her side because she just ADORES them and it looks like this
she highkey volunteers at the stables here in charming too just because she wants to keep being around them, sometimes still rides here and there
she’s also like fairly moody but i think it would just be hard to tell because she’s fairly expressionless most of the time (or tries to be)
100000% bi
can be hella calculating tbh but don’t let that offend you because she’s like VERY into mysteries so if she thinks you’re one, that means she’s very intrigued by you!!
she tries very hard not to be flaky but it’s hard when she doesn’t want to be around people most of the time BUT will do her best to be there for her friends because she adores them all so much
some connections for her!!
her first friend in charming!
ride or die!!!
a drunken hookup/mistake (like i mentioned that she doesn’t drink until she’s drunk plus she doesn’t sleep around all that much either so she highkey would have considered what they did a mistake omg)
a hookup that was not a drunken mistake omg (but like i said, she doesn’t sleep around a lot so imma just limit this to like... 2)
enemies (probably in the gang lbr)
unexpected friendships!!!
opposites attract!!! someone who could be so extroverted and would help her get out of her (self-made) shell just a little
maybe someone she dated when she first got here but it didn’t work out for some reason?
people in the band!! (gonna send a wc for this to the main)
someone involved in a case at one point or maybe paid her to find something out for them !!!!!
fellow book NERDS
horse people RIDE UP (i was gonna say rise up but somehow....... this works)
people she works with!!!
neighbors!!!
someone who might be friends/related to her ex-husband (who will stay an NPC)
people she knew back in new york
literally just come at me if you have ideas because i’m pretty sure i’ll be 10000% up for them
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You Can‘t Cross the Same River Twice - Chapter 20
“Boy, there's enough red, white, and blue around here to make even old Ferret Face happy.” Trapper's looking around the park with an expression somewhere between awe and contempt. “Don't remember it being quite so...” He gestures vaguely at the flag bunting and the kids waving sparklers and tiny flags.
“What, it wasn't like this last Fourth of July?” Hawkeye finds it hard to believe that America would have been less patriotic during the death throws of the Korean war.
“I didn't go anywhere near any of this shit last year – got stuck with a twenty-four hour shift in the ER.” Trapper sighs. “Between the noise from the fireworks and all the kids coming in with powder burns, I coulda been back at the front.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
The clinic has seen its fair share of kids with burnt fingers – though fortunately nothing worse. And Hawkeye hasn't had the most restful week of his life, either. The constant barrage of fireworks brings back memories of artillery shells and he keeps dreaming about Korea. Just hazy impressions of blood and khaki, but unsettling enough to make him toss and turn half the night.
Trapper nudges Hawkeye out of those thoughts with a brief press of his shoulder. “Course, you were actually over there last year, so I tried not to wallow in self pity too much. I'm sure the coffee you were drinking was way worse than the shit in the ER staff room.”
Hawkeye laughs despite himself. Feels himself relax, despite the crowds, despite the dozens of screaming children – shrieks of laughter so, so close to shrieks of terror and agony. Despite what day it is.
He isn't in Korea. No one is going to die today.
Trapper knocks gently into Hawkeye's shoulder again, clearly reading his change in mood. “It gets to be too much and you wanna go home, just lemme know. Ok?”
Hawkeye smiles, small but genuine. “Thanks, Trapper. But I'm ok, really. And Cathy would never let me live it down if I missed her softball game – I'd lose my standing as favorite uncle.”
“That's true enough, Cathy's absolutely ruthless when crossed.” Trapper grins. “She pretty much single handedly whupped St. John's Episcopal in the interfaith league cuz they wouldn't let a girl play softball.”
“She an adorable little terror. You must be so proud.” And now Hawkeye's grinning too.
By this point, they've managed to fight their way through the crowd to the metal bleachers of the baseball diamond. It's crowded here too – apparently the Fourth of July little league games are a longstanding tradition – but it's a more orderly chaos. The hordes of children are being at least somewhat corralled by their impatient parents.
Except for Becky - who comes barreling out of the ballpark and right into Trapper, managing to knock him backwards a few steps with the force of her momentum. While Trapper's still getting his wind back, she flings herself at Hawkeye in an exuberant hug. He hugs her back, a little bemused – she's not normally so affectionate.
“Thank Christ you're here!” she exclaims when she finally lets go of Hawkeye.
“Don't cuss, Becky,” Trapper admonishes her. Though he's pulled her into another, less violent hug – and it's not like he has much room to complain about bad language.
“Sorry, dad,” Becky says, not looking very sorry. “But we've been here for hours! And all mom and Rob want to do is gossip about boring stuff like who's having babies or what some lady wore to church. At least you two talk about interesting things.”
“Speaking of your ma, she know you're running around loose?”
Becky looks guiltily at the ground and Trapper sighs.
“You better lead us to 'em before Louise sends out a search party. Don't want her to think you've run off to join the circus – though your human cannon ball act is pretty good, just about bowled me over.”
“Sorry dad, Uncle Hawkeye.” This time Becky does look contrite. But she brightens up when Hawkeye and Trapper each hold out a hand for her to take. And then she's tearing off towards wherever Louise and Robert are sitting – the two of them trailing in her wake.
They come up on Louise and Robert a little ways away – though the crowds are thick enough, it takes longer than it should to reach them. Leaving plenty of time for Trapper to watch them as he approaches.
It's still kinda strange for Trapper to see Louise out on the town – especially with a guy who ain't him. But they're friendly enough with one another, if mostly focused on the girls whenever they talk. And Robert ain't a bad guy, even if Trapper finds him unbearably boring. He cares about the girls a whole hell of a lot, and that's worth sitting through him talking about bird watching or the stock market or whatever the hell it is he's talking about now. Proper barbecue technique, by the sound of it.
No wonder Becky ran off.
Even Louise looks glad to see them, her smile a little fixed as she goes to kiss first his cheek and then Hawkeye's. And she's very quick to pull Hawkeye into a conversation about her latest knitting project – apparently Cathy's interest had sparked her own and they all trade knitting patterns now. Trapper smiles as he listens to Becky describe the plot of her latest Nancy Drew novel.
It's funny that it took divorcing his wife for them to find some kinda equilibrium with each other.
And Trapper ain't glad it happened, by any means. Mostly cuz Louise deserved better from him than being a distant shadow of the man she married – and a cheater who'd bedded anyone who'd have him over in Korea. A man in love with his best friend, even if it took him a while to realize.
But he don't mourn the man he used to be. Or see much point in regretting his mistakes. What's done is done – all that matters is the here and now. And this here and this now – a clear summer day, his one daughter sitting next to him and the other waving frantically from the dugout, Hawkeye happy and laughing and here with him – is pretty damn good.
--
Cathy wins her softball game and they all go out for ice cream after. They still woulda gone if she hadn't'a won, of course, but there's a special air of celebration about it on account of the victory.
After they all mob the ice cream cart – along with about a hundred other families - they cram onto a couple of park benches. The girls are talking all in and around and over each other in their excitement. And Louise is attempting to get them to take turns talking – a lost cause in Trapper's opinion. Even Robert is smiling and cracking some pretty terrible jokes. They're loud enough, some of the people walking past are giving them the evil eye.
But Hawkeye is just sitting there. Silent. With ice cream dripping down his arm.
Covered by the loud chatter of the rest of the family, Trapper leans in and says quietly, “You ok, Hawkeye? You wanna cut this short and head home?”
“Nah, I'm fine. Just thinking.” And then Hawkeye laughs quietly. “You know something funny, Trapper? That first week back home I went out and bought knitting supplies and a gossip magazine and an ice cream cone – strawberry, like I'm eating now.”
Hawkeye pauses to lick ice cream off his wrist and Trapper has to look away.
“It felt like – like this forbidden thing, you know? To go out and buy ice cream. Ice cream! It's not like I was breaking the law or anything – I wasn't even buying booze or a nudie mag or anything questionable – but it felt like I was going to get arrested by the cops for being out without a pass, you know? For daring to buy an ice cream cone without orders.”
Trapper nods.
For all that the army was s'posed to bring freedom to Korea, it was pretty damn thin on the ground – for soldiers and civilians. It had taken him a while to get used to the lack of military restrictions when he got back home, too. A while to get used to feeling like a real person again, able to make decisions for himself, able to set his own schedule.
“I had to remind myself that I was a grown adult,” Hawkeye continues, “capable of running errands on my own – going where I wanted when I wanted, without written permission or a curfew.”
Trapper nods again. “It's funny what a guy can get used to, I guess. What starts to feel normal.” He grins wryly. “Not that you've ever given two shits about being normal.”
Hawkeye laughs. “True enough.” And then he bites into his ice cream cone.
--
They get invited over to Louise and Robert's house in the suburbs for a Fourth of July barbecue. And the girls are so excited to show their dad and Uncle Hawkeye their rooms and toys and neighborhood haunts that they can't really refuse. So Hawkeye finds himself standing on Robert's meticulously manicured lawn, chatting with a slew of pastel-clad, pearl-wearing housewives while their husbands congregate around the grill to talk about cars and vacations to the Grand Canyon and other boring things. Trapper, meanwhile, has practically disappeared in a pile of roughhousing kids – occasionally breaking free, only to be pulled back under by the teaming mass. And Louise flutters at the edge of Hawkeye's little entourage – pouring drinks and setting out side dishes.
Hawkeye had offered to help – he and Trapper both had – but she'd said they were guests and ought to take it easy. Hawkeye doesn't know that he feels easy, exactly, in this world of matching bungalows and matching skirt sets but he does his best to relax.
It had helped when the women had gathered around him and started gossiping. All he'd had to do was listen and ask leading questions and he could be almost totally silent without looking bored or inattentive – a trick he'd learned on the boat home, back when he didn't really talk all that much. Back when he felt like he didn't have anything to say that was really him talking.
He doesn't feel that way anymore, but it's still a relief when they all sit down to eat and he can rejoin Trapper. Talk about something other than church functions, PTA meetings, and children's play dates. Even if they're sitting at the kiddie table and his time is mostly spent trying to keep the kids from putting potato salad in each others' hair.
It helps settle something in him to be able to see the kids alive and happy and alive. Helps drive home that he isn't in Korea and today isn't going to end like it did last year. And it helps that Trapper is sitting next to him, pressed against him, real and solid and here.
Trapper presses closer to Hawkeye under the pretense of the table being crowded. And there are a whole lotta kids crammed onto one picnic bench. But more than that, Trapper needs the comfort and familiarity of Hawkeye next to him.
Cuz it's strange, being here at Louise's house. Seeing her and the kids having a life here. Seeing them have a life here with Robert and without him.
Don't get him wrong, it's not any kinda life Trapper'd want to live. He ain't jealous or nothing. But it's strange, being here with the people he used to be so close to - but as an outsider to their lives.
At least Louise seems happy here - with her nice big house and her nice boring husband and her nice gossipy neighbors. Trapper's glad Louise is living the kinda life she wants – the kinda life she'd grown up with, grown up wanting. Glad she can have the kinda life he hadn't been able to have with her.
But he's really fucking glad when the night is over and he can go back home to his own life with Hawkeye.
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