#I have a clear picture of her growing up as a nomad but nothing on her present!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doubleleoenergy · 3 years

Text

The Chain

Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night. Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, passionate sex, LOTS of angst

Word Count: 2414

Author’s Notes: I wrote this for @buckyblues/@edenslibrary 4K Writing Challenge. The prompt I chose was the song The Chain by Fleetwood Mac, I absolutely LOVE Fleetwood Mac so this was a no brainer choice. I hope you all like it!

“Are you SCARED?” It’s a relatively normal question to ask after the events that have occurred over the past few days. They’d won, they’d really WON against Thanos, all forces joined together to retrieve the stones and make everything RIGHT. Of course, they hadn’t expected the victory to come at the expense of Tony Stark. He was a friend to them, a husband to Pepper and a father to Morgan. Tony was part of the many losses they’d endured from the moment Thanos snapped his fingers, and frankly, Steve was tired.

Tony’s funeral was set for the next morning followed by his MISSION to return all of the stones and Mjølnir to their EXACT spots in time. Steve was the first to offer up his services to return them, they’d already all lost so much and it just felt appropriate for him to bring them back. If anything went wrong, it was on him. And that was fine, he would lay down his life for the cause, just like Vision, Natasha, and Tony had done.

Steve was pulled from his thoughts by the delicate fingers wrapping around his chest from behind, the smell of her vanilla lavender perfume wafting through his nostrils. “Hm?” He asked, head turning over his shoulder to look at y/n.

“I said, are you scared? You know, for returning the stones.” Her voice was soft as she spoke, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. Y/N HERSELF was nervous, but they were one mission away from the conclusion of the nightmare they’d been living over the past FIVE years. Although there’d be more missions to come, as always, she was looking forward to enjoying at least a few days of alone time relaxing with Steve.

Her question makes Steve shake his head, turning around where he sat to meet her gaze. “No, I’m not scared.” He was being honest, he wasn’t scared. More so, he was CURIOUS. He had learned that going back to return the stones would be quite simple, as long as he followed the same rules he had when they had originally retrieved them. However, there was one thought that crossed his mind about going back in time.

PEGGY.

Peggy Carter had been stuck in his brain ever since he’d gone back in time with Tony and saw her, saw her in the FLESH. She was right there in front of him and he couldn’t do anything about it, given the mission at hand. Running into her would’ve changed EVERYTHING, but just seeing her for that brief moment in time made that familiar warmth for her grow in his chest. It was clear she still loved him when he’d seen the picture of himself on her desk, and of course, he still loved her. He always WOULD love her.

But then along came y/n and suddenly he had opened his heart to ANOTHER woman. They had met when he was running about his nomadic life, she was a pleasant surprise and a great ESCAPE for him. She’d been with him ever since, and he truly did LOVE her. And although he loved her, he still couldn’t get the scenario of returning the stones out of his head. What if he stayed in the 40’s with his first love Peggy Carter, living out the life he had once hoped they would have?

“Then what’s got you so deep in thought?” Her hands move to cup his face, moving him to look at her. “We don’t keep secrets, remember? You can tell me ANYTHING.” It was true, they refused to keep secrets between them; their relationship was built on communication and trust from the start.

Steve sighed, it’s not FAIR to keep his thoughts to himself, especially if it meant hurting her in the long run. He pulls her hands from his face, moving to hold them in his lap. His eyes stare at their hands together, unsure of how to start the conversation. “I’ve just been thinking about tomorrow, about returning the stones…” He pauses, furrowing his brows. “I told you that I saw Peggy when I went back with Tony to retrieve the tesseract. Of course I’m going to go back and return the stone to that point in time, and I can’t help but think about...WELL, about what life would’ve been like if I didn’t go into the ice. What would have happened if I made it back to her…”

Y/N’s heart is breaking at his words, she COMPLETELY understood how he felt about Peggy, and she had never minded when he spoke about her. It didn’t bother her of course because it was all related to the past, not related to the present or the FUTURE.

She’s distracting herself from crying by listening to the wind blow through the open window. She turns her head towards it, noticing how the night came down and enveloped the sky in the moon and stars. They sat in silence like this for a moment before she turned her attention back to him, letting go of his hands.

“I can’t believe you’d even THINK about that as a possibility.” She’s frustrated, getting up off the bed and running her hands through her hair. She didn’t LIKE this feeling, the feeling of being second best. She didn’t deserve to feel like that. “After all we’ve been through, after the YEARS of pain and suffering, after finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel...you want to throw all of this away...throw ME away.” Her voice is rising now but she can’t help it.

Steve doesn’t know how to respond, taking a few deep breaths to keep his composure. “I was just saying I was THINKING about it, nothing is set in stone.” Y/N can’t help but scoff at the words, her arms flailing as she speaks. “Nothing is set in STONE? I SHOULD be set in stone, this shouldn’t even be a discussion.” She hissed, fighting back tears once again.

“I know, I KNOW okay? You asked me what I was thinking and I was being honest, as I have always been with you. There has always been a part of me that wondered what if with her, and then I met you and things have been INCREDIBLE, but the thoughts have never left” Steve admitted, a part of him wishing he hadn’t even been honest.

“This is it, Steve. Tomorrow is THE day you take those stones back so you’re going to have to make a decision.” She moves closer to the bed, arms crossed against her chest, her eyes locking on his blue hues as the tears that she had been keeping at bay start to fall down her cheeks. “If you don’t love me NOW, you will NEVER love me again.” She declared. “It’s me or Peggy. If you choose her I’m gone.”

Her tears pull him back to reality, what was he even THINKING? Was he really about to go back in time, return the stones, and go back to Peggy? What if what they had wasn’t enough to keep them together? He’d end up stuck in the past, unhappy with the decision he made, wishing he had chosen y/n instead.

“Babygirl…” The words are soft and she practically MELTS at his pet name for her. He stands up, pulling her into his chest, caressing her tousled hair. “I’m sorry...I DO love you, alright? I told you I wanted you forever and I do, I would NEVER break the chain.” The chain is how Steve liked to refer to their relationship, their BOND. ‘You and I are stronger than string, you’ve got me tied to you by a metal CHAIN babygirl..’ He had once said, back when they’d first gotten together in the nomad days.

Y/N slowly relaxes into his chest, the words loosening the pain she was feeling in her heart. “I love you SO much.” She leans up to press a kiss to his lips, rushed and sloppy and with EVERY bit of passion she had for him. Steve’s lips melt to her own, hands trailing down her back until they reach the bottom of her ass, tugging her up into his arms. Her hands are roaming through his hair, only breaking the kiss when they both have run out of AIR.

Steve wastes no time in tossing her gently against the bed, both of their hands clawing at buttons, zippers, and fabric until their clothes are thrown in a pile on the floor. “I love you too.” He whispers against her lips, fingers rubbing in circular motions against her clit. Y/N’s nails claw at Steve’s chiseled back, ARCHING her own as his lips place hot kisses to the skin of her collarbone.

Her nails rake down his sides until she reaches his cock, wrapping her hand around it and eliciting a GROAN of approval from Steve. “Need you, Steve...please.” She begged below him, hips rolling into his hand as he rubbed his fingers along her damp folds.

He nestles himself between her thighs, rubbing the tip of his cock against her wetness before pushing inch by inch inside. She’s so warm, so TIGHT around him, rolling his hips forward once more until he bottoms out. Y/N instinctively wraps her legs around him, pulling him as deep as she can, eyes closing in satisfaction.

“You’re so WET babygirl...feel so good wrapped around my cock.” His hips move back and forth, pulling out until just the tip is inside her before plunging back in again. The rhythm is filled with passion, fucking into her like it was the LAST time he’d ever be able to do so.

“Fuck, Steve I’m gonna…” Her breath hitched as waves of pleasure rolled over her, Steve’s pace continuing as he fucked her through her orgasm. It isn’t much long after she had come undone before he does as well, pumping his seed deep inside, COATING her. They stay connected, taking several minutes to catch their breath before Steve pulls out, rolling over and tugging y/n into his side.

“That was incredible…” Steve mumbled, eyes closing. Y/N’s body calms against his side, her breathing heavy as sleep enveloped her. Steve rubbed his fingers up and down y/n’s back as she slept, the events of tomorrow continuing to play out in his mind until he also fell asleep.

Tony’s funeral had proceeded that morning without a hitch, everyone solemnly suffering as they shared stories of their former Avenger, their FRIEND. It happened to be a beautiful day out for the funeral, the sun shining brightly against the water. Tony wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Shortly after many of the attendees had filtered out, Steve changed out of his black suit and into the advanced tech suit he had worn the last time he went back in time with the Pym particles.

He stood with Bruce (half Hulked out) and Sam, watching the stones glisten as Bruce opened the clasp on the briefcase.

“Remember.” Bruce stated. “You have to return the stones to the EXACT moment you got ‘em or you’re gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities.”

“Don’t worry Bruce.” Steve replied, shutting the briefcase closed. “Clip all the branches.” Steve and Bruce talk briefly before Steve starts walking towards the time machine, Sam by his side.

“You know, if you want, I could come with you.” Sam is SERIOUS in his tone, Steve making eye contact with him. “You’re a good man, Sam. This one’s on me though.” Steve approaches Bucky next, a smile spreading across his face. “Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” He orders, a matching smile spreading on Bucky’s own face. “How can I? You’re taking all the STUPID with you.” The two embrace for a moment before pulling away.

“Gonna miss you, buddy.” Bucky confessed, eyes twinging with sadness. Steve doesn’t want him to worry, turning his head before walking towards y/n. “It’s going to be okay, Buck.”

Steve’s hand comes up caress your cheek, gripping at your chin to pull you in for a kiss. It feels DIFFERENT from the rest, more FINAL. “I love you, y/n. I always will.” She furrows her brows at the comment, squeezing his bicep gently.

“I love you too, now go on, you’ve got some stones to return.”

Steve turns and walks up the stairs and into the time machine, holding the briefcase tightly in one hand with Mjølnir in the other. “How long is this gonna take?” Sam asks, turning to look at Bruce. “For him, as long as he needs. For us, five SECONDS. You ready, Cap?” Bruce inquired, resulting in a nod from Steve. “All right, we’ll meet you back here, okay?”

“You bet.” With that Steve closes his helmet, y/n letting go of a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Five seconds. It’ll just be five seconds and he’ll be BACK to her.

“Going quantum. Three...two...one…” With that Steve is snapped away, leaving everyone to look at the empty time machine. “And returning in five...four...three...two...one…” Bruce presses the button, a worried look on his face. He starts to play with a few buttons, y/n’s eyes widening with FEAR.

“Where is he?” Sam questioned, turning his head to Bruce. “I don’t know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here.”

“Bruce, get him the HELL back.” Y/N snarled, this could NOT be happening. What if he was stuck somewhere in time forever? As y/n, Sam, and Bruce converse Bucky notices something off in the distance, turning his voice to the attention of the group.

“Guys…” They all turn in Bucky’s direction, y/n walking over to him and searching for what he was looking at. Her eyes narrow in on someone sitting on a bench in the distance, a sigh of relief leaving her lips. She jogs towards the figure on the bench, a SMILE spreading on her face.

“Steve, I thought we lost you forever” Her voice trails off taking in the sight of him. Yes, it’s him, but he’s aged SIGNIFICANTLY. She looks over his outfit, noticing a thin band around his ring finger, THE ring finger.

“Y/N…” His voice is frail, turning to look at her, a sigh leaving his lips. “Y/N, I’m REALLY sorry.”

Hot tears start to stream down her face, her head shaking in disbelief. How could he? After last night, how could he do THIS?

“I can STILL hear you saying you would never break the CHAIN...”

Taglist: @turtoix

#buckyblues 4k challenge #buckyblues #edenslibary #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers #marvel fic #marvel

52 notes · View notes

flameohotwife · 2 years

Note

Happy FFWF! Has there ever been a section of any fic you’ve written where you look back on it and find yourself impressed with yourself? If so, feel free to link the fic it’s from and talk about it!

Happy very belated FFWF (but on the right day!)! This is a really hard question, because I am my own worst critic. I had to go through my fics to find something, because nothing really stuck out just from thinking about it, but I think this section of Balance and Babies is something I'm really proud of:

When the final suds were in the drain and Bumi was happily snoring in his crib, Aang looked around his house to survey the damage.

Aside from the fruit pie and lunch mess in the kitchen--which had somehow managed to reach the walls, too--there was also a sea of small toys, a pillow fort, some spilled milk on the rug that was starting to sour, and some unknown substance smeared on the windows that even Momo wouldn’t touch. Aang sighed and bent some water from a nearby basin, hoping he could actually make the place look presentable before Bumi woke up again, or an angry acolyte showed up at his door.

As he cleaned he became aware that he might not have all the ingredients he needed to make the dinner he had planned, so halfway through rinsing the curdling milk from the rug he took a detour to the kitchen to check. He thought of the many things Katara was able to keep in her brain about their son and running their house on a daily basis, in addition to continuing her healing training on her own, teaching a few younger kids waterbending when she could, offering him advice on council affairs, teaching and loving their son, and actually keeping Bumi from injuring himself.

Aang felt deeply humbled and beyond thankful for his wife--his partner in all things. He was having so much fun, but by the end of each day he was exhausted, often falling asleep himself while trying to convince Bumi to do the same, and leaving the afternoon’s mess to hopefully be cleaned up in the morning. Even though he often helped with shopping or cooking or cleaning and spent lots of time with Bumi when Katara was home, being completely immersed in it like this--and cut off from most outside interaction with other adults--was more isolating and draining than he ever could have imagined. He was amazed that Katara frequently had the energy to stay up with him while he looked over treaties or tried to document the swaths of Air Nomad history that no one else would be able to do, and then for other activities once the lights went out. She was more amazing than he had ever even understood.

This got long so I'll continue under a cut.

This particular part of that story took a LOT of work to get right. I was stuck on this section for a very very long time, but I *think* I was able to do exactly what I wanted to with this passage. I wanted to convey just how *much* the "default parent" (the parent schools call first in an emergency, who knows when doctors appointments are needed and scheduled, who remembers what size clothes and shoes the kids are wearing, who has a mental checklist of everything that needs to get done in the house, etc.) has to remember every minute of every day. I wanted to convey both how tiring that can be, since I spent a lot of time also showing the rewarding and fun parts of parenting.

It's all, as the title says, about balance, and that balance is HARD to achieve especially once multiple kids enter the picture, but it's a hard adjustment to make with your first kid, too, as they grow from an infant to a toddler with CLEAR desires and minds of their own haha. The response I've gotten from other parents has been great, but I hope it isn't too overwhelming for non-parents to read, too. It's just another part of life and I love exploring those things through Kataang and the cloud family. Thanks so much for the ask! Sorry this got so long, haha.

#ffwf #northerngoshawk #asks #kataang fic #my writing #kataang #cloud family

9 notes · View notes

alj4890 · 3 years

Text

Delicate

(Ethan Ramsey x Olivia Nevarkis) (Olivia Nevarkis x Drake Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crackship Series

A/N Picking up directly after Drake's visit and fallout. This will lead into the Christmas season, with Ethan inviting Olivia to spend the holidays with him and his father.

@jooous @krsnlove @nomadics-stuff @twinkleallnight @motorcitymademadame

Masterlist

Part 5

Ethan knew something was wrong. Even without his highly attuned ability to detect the slightest tics and movements people made when dealing with pain, he still would have known that Olivia was upset.

What bothered him was that she felt the need to keep it hidden.

He thought they were well past the stage of not being completely honest. It had been one of the most difficult yet rewarding part of their ever developing relationship. It was terrifying and freeing to be able to tell her anything.

Ethan knew he needed her. He had made it a point to never allow himself to need anyone. He once believed that it was a weakness, something that any sane person should be able to do without. One should be able to stand and face whatever life threw at them without having someone there to help you through it.

Or so he thought until Naveen nearly died.

Then seeing Bryce's reaction when Casey was poisoned.

Those two situations had opened his eyes and made him come to some uncomfortable conclusions about himself.

He was human. And what did all humans share? The ability and need to love...to have someone all their own to be there during life's brightest and darkest moments.

As he finished prepping the turkey breast for tomorrow's dinner, his eyes drifted over to the one he believed was his someone.

He hoped that he had become Olivia's.

"How was your day?"

Olivia shrugged. "Fine for the most part."

Ethan washed his hands then reached for a bottle of wine. Setting two glasses out, he filled them while studying her.

Olivia muttered her thanks when he handed hers to her. She absentmindedly swirled her wine while a slight frown formed.

Ethan reached out and caressed her cheek. When her eyes met his, he allowed her to see his concern.

"Drake came to my apartment earlier." She blurted out.

"He did?" Ethan gestured for them to move into his living room. After settling comfortably on his sofa, he patiently waited for her to continue.

"Yes." She bit out. "He supposedly came on his way to his family's ranch to show me pictures of the progress on the hospital. Her frown eased at that memory. "I can't wait until you see it. It is turning out just like we hoped."

A hint of a smile formed on his lips over this shared dream of theirs coming about. "I can't wait either."

Hearing Ethan say that caused the gnawing worry to grow even more. Was it the beginning of the end for them? Drake's parting words kept repeating over and over her mind. Somehow they seemed more prophetic than insulting the longer she dwelled on them.

"You really think this Ramsey is what you need?" Drake taunted. "One day you'll leave here and he will see the real you in Cordonia. This Boston bubble you're living under is going to pop. What will he do when he sees you as a duchess, mingling amongst the court?"

"You think he'll adore you then? Just wait until he hears all the tales of your years of temper tantrums and cruelty."

"Liv?" Ethan pulled her into his arms. "What happened?"

She didn't want to tell him. She hated this fear Drake had caused in the one area she had come to love. The simple happiness she had found in Boston was now tainted with doubt. He had made her once again hate herself.

Was her act of redemption going to never end? Was she to pay for every word and action she had done for the rest of her life?

Does nothing I do matter?

She closed her eyes tight when Ethan brushed a tender kiss to her furrowed forehead.

I don't deserve someone like him.

His hand rubbed her back in soothing circles while he waited.

Olivia felt tears prick her eyes. He was the only person she had ever known to give her physical comfort. The way he held her as if she was precious to him without trying to turn it into something sexual made her want cry.

She couldn't lose this. Lose him.

But she also couldn't deceive him.

"Ethan," her voice trembled making her hate herself even more for needing him, "You know about my past with Drake."

She felt him tense yet he continued to try and soothe her.

"I do."

She looked up at him and saw his own face etched in worry.

"He...we got into an argument about that and..." It was too hard. She couldn't stand the thought of destroying the way Ethan looked at her. The way he cared for her...

"Olivia," he tried not to let his fear take over of losing her to her former lover, "are you trying to tell me that you..." He couldn't get the words out. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to how his life was before she became a central part of it.

His mind stuttered at that. Medicine had once been his central part. Everything in his adult life had revolved around it. And while it still was a big part of who he was, Olivia had somehow created a niche all her own in that center. Somewhat entwined in it, yet on a personal level, he found that every decision he had made from the moment they met were made about her. From choosing a restaurant she might like to moving to her country to work at her proposed hospital, she had become his life.

Had Drake unknowingly destroyed his life in one brief visit?

"That I what?" She asked.

His blue eyes held her green. "That you want to get back together with Drake?"

Her eyes widened. "Good Lord, no." Her nose wrinkled. "That is the last thing I want."

She felt his arms relax as they cuddled her closer. His forehead dropped against hers as he dealt with the heady relief that her admittance brought.

Realizing he had been scared she was ending things caused a need to reassure him. Her lips met his in a tender kiss. She could feel the deep longing he had for her in his response. He still held her gently as their kiss came to an end.

"What did he say?" Ethan asked.

"He was angry that I don't see the need to keep discussing why our barely a relationship had to end." She bit her lip. "Then he brought up you."

Ethan arched an eyebrow. He had not been around the man enough to form an unbiased opinion. He knew the flare of jealousy was from what he assumed was going to be an attack on his own character in the hopes of stealing Olivia from him.

"What about me?" He didn't bother to hide the annoyance tempering his tone.

"How you'll be when you see me in Cordonia." Olivia averted her eyes. "And how what we have here will be completely destroyed."

His eyes narrowed at such a choice of words. "Why would it be destroyed?"

"Ethan, you," she lowered her head into her hands for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she forced the words out. "You know some of my past already. You've witnessed my temper. But I...I used to be cruel. I've changed these last few years, and it has helped heal relationships I have with some members of the court." She looked up at him to see how he was reacting. "But Drake believes once you hear their stories and see me as the prideful duchess that you will not want to be with me."

"First off," Ethan snapped, "he doesn't know a damn thing about me or how I feel about you. From what I know of you, you deserve to walk into every ballroom with your head held high." He snorted in irritation. "They should be begging for your attention."

Olivia briefly smiled at that. Only he could turn one of her faults into a compliment.

"Secondly, I haven't been known to be the kindest doctor to work with."

"Your patients would disagree."

He huffed. "That's because I work to help them." He pulled her closer within his arms. "Jerk might be the nicest word interns and other medical staff have referred to me." Ethan pressed another kiss to the top of her head. "And my quick temper might give yours a run for its money ." He grinned when he heard her muffled laugh. "And I've never been known for being a forgiving man."

She wrapped her arms around him as she settled her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder. "If anyone tells you about me, then--"

"I know who you are, Olivia." Ethan stressed. "I will never hold your past up as a standard to measure your actions by."

Silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"Don't thank me." He grumbled. "And don't believe what Drake said." He grimaced as a thought struck. "Though I can imagine why he acted like he did."

She swiped at her stray tears. "You can?"

He nodded before resting his cheek against her head. "Who knows how I would react if this was reversed? I might have lashed out at you in frustration if you refused to give me a second chance."

She lifted her head to see his face.

He met her gaze and softly smiled again. "Especially since I am in love with you."

"You--" her lips parted in surprise, "You are in love with me?

"I am."

Olivia knew in that moment what was truly in her heart. All the questions she had asked herself that morning finally had an answer. And all because Ethan had done the one thing that no man had ever done before.

He did not judge her for her past, her name, anything. He accepted her, faults and all, and loved her for every single part.

"I love you too." She smiled against his lips. "I have never loved anyone like I do you."

Their kiss held a new edge to the usual passion. Having expressed their feelings, the need to show just how much they loved one another took over.

While clothes were beginning to be hastily tossed around the living room, Olivia's phone vibrated softly in her purse.

***************

Hearing the beep, Drake cleared his throat. "I know I am probably the last person you want to talk to but I need to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of what I said. I wish..."

He took a deep breath. "I wish you would give me a second chance to show you that I do care the way you wanted me to. I know you're with Ramsey now, but I want to try what you asked me all those months ago. I want to be with you, out in the open."

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling of his hotel room in Kentucky. "I won't keep bothering you. I'll give you time to think it over and wait until the New Year's Eve Ball to hear your answer." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Hana said you told her you'd be back by then. I hope I didn't...didn't ruin what chance I could have."

Pausing once more, he dropped his head in his hand.

"Take care, Libby." He said softly before ending the call.

******************

That night, Oliva felt once more at peace. In the darkness of Ethan's bedroom, she smiled at how he was spooned around her. His slow deep breaths of sleep lulled her even more into the addictive security his presence gave her.

She kept replaying his words of love in her mind. In many ways it surprised her, and yet deep down she thought she must have already known. Every action, every kind word, every kiss had revealed that he had given her his heart. And she in turn had given him hers without even realizing it.

As hard as it was to find some type of silver lining to Drake's hurtful words, she supposed she should be grateful for them. Her sharing it had possibly prompted Ethan to tell her how he felt about her.

She yawned while snuggling back against her doctor. His arms pulled her even closer as he slept.

She felt both exhausted and wired. The day had been filled with one extreme emotion after another. And yet, the words both men had said kept her awake.

Olivia didn't know if she had it in her to forgive Drake. To have someone that you actually trust bring up the worst pieces of yourself as a threat to ruin the one good thing you have...how could he do that to her? She had been hurt when he didn't return her feelings, but this fight today had damaged them to the point that she wasn't sure if she even wanted him as a friend.

I would never say something like that to him if he managed to find happiness with someone else, she thought to herself.

Ethan had been much more understanding of Drake's actions than she could ever be.

She knew it wasn't necessarily a good thing that she never gave people second chances. Why would she after all the betrayals she had suffered in life? She barely needed both hands to count the number of people she had over the years that had never betrayed her.

Had Drake entered into the category she kept for her parents, Lucretia, Constantine, and numerous nobles at court?"

I don't know, she thought. I don't know how I feel over what he did.

She thought about his voicemail. It didn't matter how sincere Drake sounded or that he now wanted to try. His apology seemed hollow. Perhaps it was because he truly didn't know her now. These months in Boston had changed her, possibly even more than she realized.

She wasn't the same proud duchess that had once sworn vengeance to anyone who opposed her. She had learned the difficult art of give and take. She made herself listen and think through everything before losing her temper or forming a hard decision. It had been an ongoing battle, but she felt that she had a somewhat better control than she once had. Today's fight with Drake had proved that she wasn't the same quick tempered, plan to skewer a person on the edge of her dagger she had once been. She had stepped out of her comfort zone and lived for the most part as a normal person, proving to herself that she truly could survive on her own in any situation.

This venture had shown her that she was more than what her ancestors had stressed a Nevarkis should be. The people in Cordonia would most likely still see her as her old self, but she knew and it seemed that Ethan did also who she truly was. Her strength, her refusal to back down from a fight, her very heart had been used for good.

Drake didn't see it. He never saw the potential she had to do something meaningful and right. Maybe it was because she hadn't allowed him to do so. Maybe they really never had a chance to see the best in one another.

Could we have found a way to happiness if we had not spent years torturing each other with our spiteful words?

Deciding that that was a thought that would probably never be answered, she closed her eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep.

********************

Weeks went by too quickly for some and not nearly fast enough for others. Edenbrook had closed its doors leaving many with bittersweet emotions. Ethan, Naveen, and Olivia had spent what free time they had packing and shipping their personal belongings to Cordonia. Decisions were made for the two doctors to stay with her in Lythikos while they searched for homes of their own.

While rushing about, Amanda and Thomas came to help a week before Christmas.

On their second night together, the ladies sent Ethan and Thomas to get dinner, giving them a moment to talk alone.

"Did you come for me or for the snow?" Olivia teased when Amanda insisted the two of them take a break from packing and go for a walk.

"Since you have always had the best snow," Amanda replied with a twinkle of mischief, "I always come for you."

She laughed when Olivia snorted.

"Are you excited?" She prodded as their boots crunched in the snow.

"About finally seeing the new hospital?" Olivia linked her arm through Amanda's when they entered a nearby park. "Of course."

"I am too." Amanda took a deep breath and cut her eyes toward her friend. "And I am very excited to see you and a certain doctor together at the New Year Eve's ball."

Olivia didn't bother to mask how happy she was. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh?"

"Ethan, he...on Thanksgiving, he admitted he is in love with me."

"About time." Amanda grumbled playfully. "Each time I visit, I see just how much he does love you."

Olivia stopped their progress through a path of lighted trees. "You knew all this time? Why didn't you tell me?"

Amanda's laughter at the death glint in Olivia's eyes echoed across the park. "Because you would have dismissed it like you always have whenever I brought up heartfelt emotions."

She placed a hand on her hip and somehow did a convincing impression of Olivia. "Please. No man can truly capture a Nevarkis heart, much less make me willing to be his," Amanda managed to twist her lips in disgust like Olivia's as she flicked her hand in a very recognizable gesture, "love slave."

Olivia rolled her eyes while struggling with her laughter. "I don't sound like that."

"Not now that you're in looovvve." Amanda responded playfully.

"Why do I share things with you?" Olivia muttered.

"Because you love me." Amanda wrapped her arm around her. "Not as much as you love Ethan, but I can live with that."

Olivia snorted again as she tried to brush it off. As hard as she tried, a soft smile formed on her lips. "You're right."

"I am happy you both know how you feel about one another." Amanda's teasing turned serious. "It would have driven you crazy with trying to guess."

"I suppose it would have irritated me." Olivia admitted.

“I know it would have driven me insane watching you both tiptoe around the issue.” Amanda grumbled.

“It surprised me.” Olivia admitted.

“It did? Why?”

“I--I suppose I didn’t expect it to happen.” She felt embarrassed just saying it. “I don’t think I ever thought I would meet someone to feel like that... I never thought of any of it happening to me.”

Amanda's heart ached at realizing just how damaged Olivia still was over her parents. Nothing hurt her more than seeing her friend still believe that she was unworthy of love. To be this surprised over a man falling in love with her proved how much she doubted herself. Perhaps it was why Olivia continuously pushed herself to serve Cordonia in any way possible. It might be why she never backed away from danger.

Compliments and recognition had been the closest she had to receiving love in her life

Amanda felt herself adoring Ethan even more for showing Olivia that she herself was loveable. She wasn't the prickly cactus that she had given Liam at his coronation. She had a tender heart, one that any person would be lucky to earn.

"I love him." Olivia broke into Amanda's musings. "It's different from what I once felt for Liam."

Amanda squeezed her in a side hug. "One sided love usually is different. Having someone give their heart to you and work in the hopes of you giving them theirs, I can't think of a greater gift than that."

Olivia nodded. "Ethan does that. I thought that maybe after we admitted our feelings that he would slack off trying to," her brow furrowed at trying to find the words.

"Sweep you off your feet?"

"Yes." Olivia's nose wrinkled out of habit over something so sappy. "He now seems to work even harder to not only keep my love but to make me love him even more."

"Good." Amanda linked her arm through hers again. "He better or he will have me to deal with."

Olivia burst into laughter. "And what will you do if he doesn't?"

Amanda's smile grew. "Don't worry. I've been trained by the best on how to torture a man." She winked at her friend. "You always did give the most interesting lessons."

*****************

Christmas was approaching and with it, Ethan invited Olivia to drive to Providence to spend Christmas with him and his father.

She was both excited and extremely nervous to meet his one family member he had a relationship with.

She was completely out of her depth in this situation. She had never had a man invite her to, "meet the parents,". She knew though how big this was for Ethan to include her in his family's Christmas tradition.

He seemed so happy, so proud, to introduce her to his father.

The drive over had been filled with his sharing some of his childhood memories. Her hand had remained in his as she watched the play of emotions on his face. He was opening up to her again, showing how much he trusted her with these bits of himself.

The modest, in need of a new coat of paint home had surprised her. She didn't know why she expected Ethan to have had a childhood a tad more luxurious than this. He seemed so cultured at times, that it impressed her even more that he had learned all of it on his own.

Ethan's father, Alan, had come outside to welcome her while helping with their luggage.

The genuine delight in the elder's face at meeting the woman his son had brought home made her feel slightly giddy. He teased Ethan with saying he had not done nearly enough in describing how pretty she was.

"I did." Ethan teased back. "You just didn't pay attention."

The three shared a meal with Olivia watching in fascination at their closeness. So many of her friends either had parents dead or were not close to them at all. This was something entirely new.

Alan had charmed her into sharing a little about herself. His understanding smile and deep laugh had made her relax. After dinner he pulled her away from the table while ordering Ethan to do the dishes.

"You're taking her to the mantle aren't you?" Ethan grumbled while fighting a smile.

"Don't worry what we're doing." Alan reciprocated. "Just make sure to soak that pan before putting it in the dishwasher."

Olivia allowed herself to be ushered into the small den. A Christmas tree stood with slightly old ornaments next to a warm crackling fire. Her gaze lifted to the different sized picture frames on the mantle.

Picking up one that seemed to be the oldest, Alan handed it to her. "This was a few weeks after Ethan was born."

Olivia's lips curved at seeing what looked like any other baby. She studied each picture he handed her, giving her glimpses into Ethan's life. Her smile grew at a photo of a ten year old Ethan smiling while puppies crawled all over him.

She then noticed the woman in the background.

"That's his mom." Alan's joy seemed to dim some. "She had been the one to decide we go to a nearby farm to let Ethan choose a puppy for his birthday."

Olivia studied the image of the woman who had so easily left her husband and son.

How could she do that to him?

The sound of Ethan returning caused Alan to quickly switch the picture for another one.

"Here he is with his first car."

"Dad." Ethan grumbled good naturedly. "I'm sure Olivia doesn't want to go down through every mundane event in my life."

"I do." Olivia blurted out. Heat flooded her cheeks. "I like seeing your childhood."

Alan beamed at her. "Here's one of my favorites. He was around five years old and had opened a clinic for stuffed animals."

"Did he?" Olivia cocked an eyebrow at Ethan.

"I'll have you know that I save many from losing their limbs." Ethan smiled at her laughter. "I had to since most of the injuries my toys suffered were from my rigorous playing."

The three sat down and began to talk about Ethan moving to Cordonia.

"You will have to visit." Olivia insisted. "You will always be welcome in Lythikos."

"I plan to." Alan stood and stretched. "I think I'll leave you two to get some sleep." He patted Ethan's shoulder then squeezed Olivia's hand. "I'm so happy you're both here."

Ethan settled his arm again around Olivia once they were left alone in companionship silence.

"Your father is very kind."

He chuckled. "Yes, I know. Nothing like me."

She smirked at him. "Don't sell yourself short. You have your moments."

"I do, huh?"

"I think so." She snuggled closer within his arms.

Smiling to himself, Ethan reached into his pocket.

"Olivia?"

"Hmm?"

He held a box out to her.

She sat up with a start when her eyes fell upon the little velvet box.

"I think you know what I'm about to ask." Ethan said softly as he opened it for her.

Carefully lifting the diamond ring that sparkled in the firelight, he paused right at the tip of her finger.

"You know how much I love you." His vulnerability was once more on display. "You make my life better than I thought possible. I need you, your passion, your heart." He glanced down at her hand trembling in his grasp. “I can’t imagine a life without you by my side.”

His bright blue eyes lifted once more to her green ones shimmering with unshed tears.

"Olivia, will you marry me?"

#olivia nevarkis #dr. ethan ramsey #the royal romance #open heart #choices the royal romance #choices open heart #trr crossover #oh crossover #drake walker #ethan ramsey x olivia nevarkis #drake walker x olivia nevrakis #trr drake #trr olivia #oh ethan ramsey #play choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic writers creations #choices fic writers creations

18 notes · View notes

msfilmdiary · 3 years

Text

The Twilight Saga: Twilight (2008)

Starring: Kristen Stewart, Robert Pattinson, Taylor Lautner, Nikki Reed, Ashley Greene, Kellan Lutz, Jackson Rathbone, Peter Facinelli, Anna Kendrick, Elizabeth Reaser, Billie Burke, Christian Serratos, Rachelle Lefevre

Screenplay by Melissa Rosenberg

Directed by Catherine Hardwicke

I do not own any of the pictures posted.

SPOILERS AHEAD

First of all, you have no idea how excited I am to finally be reviewing this. (I have popcorn!)

Twilight may perhaps be one of the most recognizable films of the early 2000s vampire craze. Now, whenever someone mentions the word Vampire I immediately think of Twilight. (Also The Vampire Diaries, but that’s a story for another day.)

Twilight follows seventeen-year-old outcast Isabella “Bella” Swan, after her relocation to Forks, Washington, from Phoenix, Arizona to live with her father, Charlie. Charlie is the towns’ police chief, while her mother, Renee, is married to a minor league baseball player named Phil.

After the move, Bella becomes reunited with childhood friend Jacob Black, a Native American teenager living with his father, Billy on the Quileute Indian Reservation near Forks. Bella soon makes friends at her high school but is drawn to the aloof and quiet Cullen siblings consisting of Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, Emmett, and the famous Edward Cullen. She is seated next to Edward in biology, to which he acts almost repulsed by her. After the Cullens are absent from school for a week, Edward returns to class and socializes with Bella. A couple of days later, an out of control driver nearly crashes Bella in the school parking lot, but Edward instantly covers a distance by thirty or so feet in order to prevent the van from striking her. After arriving at the hospital, Edward refuses to explain his actions to Bella, ultimately warning her against being friends with him. Jacob then informs Bella of the long-standing rivalry between the Cullens and the Quileutes and that the Cullen family is not allowed on the reservation.

Bella then begins to research Edward’s condition, ultimately concluding that he is a vampire. He confirms this but pleads with Bella that he and his family only consume animal blood. They soon fall in love, and Edward introduces Bella to his family, where she meets Carlisle, the family father, and a doctor at Forks Hospital, Esme, the family mother, and their formally adopted children Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, and Emmett. The family’s reaction to Bella is generally positive except for Rosalie’s, who fears that her family’s secret can now be exposed.

Bella and Edward’s relationship is soon jeopardized when James, Victoria, and Laurent, three nomadic vampires arrive in Forks territory. They are responsible for a series of attacks leading up to and in the Forks territory. James, who’s described as a tracker vampire with incredible hunting instincts, is consumed by Bella’s scent and becomes obsessed with hunting her. Edward and the other Cullens protect Bella, but James ultimately tracks her to Phoenix, Arizona, where she’s hiding with Jasper and Alice. James lures Bella into her old ballet studio as a trap, attacking Bella and infecting her with vampire venom. Edward arrives and fights James, subduing him until the other Cullens arrive. Alice, Jasper, and Emmett kill James, decapitating and burning him.

In the aftermath, Bella suffered a broken leg and is hospitalized. Edward accepts Bella’s invitation to their high school prom, where he refuses her request to turn her into a vampire. They are unaware that Victoria, James’ lover, is secretly watching them, in schemes to avenge his death.

Let’s talk about Twilight as a cultural phenomenon. It pleased devoted fans to the novel series, while also defining an early generation of the vampire-romance genre. I was five when the first Twilight movie was released, so it was never a huge part of my life growing up. However, I do remember the cultural aspect of the films. I remember going to the mall in the mid-2000s and seeing posters and pictures for it everywhere. Twilight, like it or not, was everywhere from 2008 to 2012 and has experienced a surge in popularity since Stephanie Myer’s release of Midnight Sun, which is Twilight told from Edward’s perspective.

If you couldn’t already tell, I’m a huge fan of Hardwicke’s directing style. I think if she continues to direct the following Twilight films, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn 1 & 2. I would have enjoyed the later movies as much if not more if I enjoyed the first one. However, that’s not to say that I don’t enjoy the series as a whole. I think it truly defined the early-mid 2000s, and the nostalgia of the movie I think is more remembered than the actual story.

My friends and I still have Twilight marathons to this day. Do I think it’s deep? No. It’s about a girl falling in love with a 108-year-old vampire, of course, it’s not deep. Plus, the film, novels, and the story are directed at teenage girls, who of course back then, couldn’t possibly understand the complexity of a well-written and well-developed script. Do films have to be deep in order to enjoy them? No, absolutely not. I think that most of the people who heavily critique Twilight think that it needs to be deep in order to be enjoyable. Twilight, in no shape or form, I think claims to be deep. I think it’s a cultural phenomenon, and because of that, people think it has to be the next generation-defying film that has to be good. I also think that it’s more popular to hate Twilight because it's directed toward teenage girls, and, as we’ve learned, teenage girls can’t have anything without being made fun of.

I also want to talk about Bella’s plainness. When I see critiques on Twilight or Bella’s character in general, said critiques typically argue that Bella’s lack of personality in the films (and book) is a major turn-off. I agree that she’s plain, but I don’t agree that she’s a major turn off when it comes to my love for Twilight and the saga as a whole. Truthfully, she was designed to be a plain and somewhat modest teenage girl. Everyone around her, especially her friends, are full of life, while she is frankly dull. She is one of those characters that is written to coincide with another, that being Edward Cullen.

In my perspective, they are two sides of the same coin. For example, Bella believes that she has nothing to live for, while Edward is pushing and pushing her to live and have the life he never got to live. Bella is extremely realistic for a teenage girl, honestly. Her “normal” attributes make Edward seem more desirable and God-like. I think it's time we stop picking on the “boringness” of characters written for and about teenage girls, mostly because I think it's just another thing that young girls can be put in a box for. If they’re not interesting or captivating enough for a certain audience, they’re plain and dull and lifeless. If they’re too interesting or captivating, there’s always something wrong with them (hence the manic pixie dream girl trope). Bella, I believe is written against that trope, and that is why she’s boring.

I enjoy Twilight. I do. And I’m not ashamed of it. I don’t think every movie has to be life-changing to be defined as a cultural phenomenon, or even enjoyable. I think when people say that Twilight is “bad” we have to ask ourselves what a “bad” movie is. “Bad” and “good” is completely subjective to who is watching it. As a teenage girl in my life right now, I enjoy watching Twilight. Truth be told, I like the story, and I like the nostalgia attached to it.

I wonder if my feelings would be different if I was a teenage girl in 2008 when the Twilight film was first released. I wonder if I would hate it because I was told to hate it, or if I would like it because it’s something that I enjoy. Nonetheless, the first Twilight film will always have a special place in my nostalgic little teenage girl heart, everything from Bella’s bleak green and purple bedroom to the clearness of the Cullen's barely used kitchen.

Overall rating: 9/10 (For the nostalgia, of course.)

20 notes · View notes

chaoticevilbean · 3 years

Text

Atla Youtube Au, Sokka-Centric

1/?

“What’s up, ma dudes? Time for another session of What My Friends Have Put Me Through. This time will feature Lady, Warrior, Gurl, and Princess.” The male was wearing his Southern Water Tribe facepaint, and from his background, it seemed he was indeed in one of the Water Tribes’ territories. His hair was white for this particular video, long and pulled back into a tail. His irises were bright blue, and once again left no clues as to whether it was the real coloring or just contacts.

“Alright, so this story is a bit strange, as per usual. As you all know, my friends are activists and Lady takes that to the extreme. Well, they did it again. What do I mean, you new viewers ask? I mean they started another rebellion. Now, maybe it’d officially count as just a bunch of protests, but I personally believe that once the number of protests in a single city is more than five in as many days, it’s the start of a rebellion. And yes, I did say another. I’ve got it all in a playlist if you wanna look.”

The background behind the videographer changed as he presumably walked around as he spoke. Snow and a clear sky were shown, and there didn’t seem to be any other people in sight.

“Now, it all started because of a previous thing my wonderful Lady did. If you’ve already watched the video, noice. If you haven’t, pause this and find the one labeled ‘Lady Vs Old Coot’. Very inspiring. Anyways, so they came back here and thought that maybe at least that Old Coot had changed, but no. No, instead there’s been no change. Or there hadn’t been. We all came as a group, but only myself, Kuzon, Lady, Bluey, Princess, Gurl, and Warrior. Bandit, Ballerina, and Knife would’ve come, but they were all busy. Or Ballerina and Knife were busy. Bandit hates it here cause there’s no land. Nothing to see.”

“So, we’re all here, and we spend the day touring and exploring and stuff, and then we meet up for lunch. Well, Lady starts ranting about how they’re so disappointed in everyone, especially the Old Coot, and demands that we do something. Immediately, Gurl, Warrior, and Princess all pledge themselves to the cause, and then guess what they do? Guess what they flippin’ do?” The Youtuber gave a sarcastic and slightly pained chuckle, dark seal markings emphasizing his features as he looked around a little.

“If you couldn’t guess, they asked me, me, to help them plan their course of action. Now, these are my friends. Basically my family. I’ve been through a lot with them, from overthrowing corrupt organizations to taking down drug rings to literally being Kuzon’s father one time. And through all of these things, I’ve somehow become known as the one who’s really good at planning. But they asked me to help plan a stinkin’ rebellion. I do it, obviously, but the fact that they even asked.”

“But then, apparently they told all of these people who’re following them in protest that I helped organize everything. And no one decides to tell me this, so I keep helping from the sidelines. We reach day three of protests, and it’s lunchtime, so I think I’ll just walk on over and bring some food to these people who’ve been standing outside the Council all morning. I get there, and I get mobbed. Everyone’s either thanking slash congratulating me, or they’re complaining about the protestors. It takes me an hour to find Lady and ask them what the Spirits happened because of all these people just crowding around and yelling at me.”

“Lady apologizes, but the damage is done. The warriors are asking me to end the protests. I tell them I can’t. They get mad because I’m supposedly the one in charge. I am not the one in charge. I am the one who the people in charge asked for a favor and got dragged into this mess. No one seems to get it. Then the heckin’ Council calls me in and tries to make me end it all. I kept trying to say that it’s not my fault there’s a rebellion. It was the will of one person, aided by the wills of three other people, that inspired the hopes of everyone who’s protesting. I just helped them do the most damage so they have a big impact and this doesn’t take a year.”

“So here I am.” The camera turned around, and started panning to show the barren ice devoid of any life. “I’m currently out here attempting to hide from everyone. I have enough supplies to last me a week on its own, three if I make the most of it all.” The screen showed several bags, including a green Earth Kingdom satchel, a blue Water Tribe satchel, a black Fire Nation duffel, and a yellow Air Nomad backpack. A few items are attached to the duffel and backpack, though it’s unclear what. “I’ll wait out the protests, since Bandit’s giving me a play-by-play of the progress. Once that’s done, I’ll just head back and hope that no one’s still under the delusion that I’m in charge.”

“Thus ends this day’s session of What My Friends Have Put Me Through. I’ll be back in an hour after I figure out what else to video and get bored enough to post again. Hope y’all like junk food, cause that’s all I’m serving. That being said, I’m signing off. See ya.”

The video cut to a picture of a boomerang with ‘Boomeraang’ written in calligraphy on the flat side. The entire vlog was titled ‘Lady’s 75th Revolution’.

True to his word, another video was posted about an hour later, this one titled ‘Furry Friends and Shock’.

“Sup, dudes. I’m back as promised, and this time, I’ve brought friends. Say hello to Fluffster, Rookie, and Baby.” The screen flipped, and three wolves were sitting like trained dogs in front of the Youtuber. “The biggest one’s Fluffster, since he’s obviously the floofiest. The smallest one’s Rookie, he’s pretty young. You can tell because his paws are a bit too big for him. He’ll grow into that. Then Baby’s this lovely little gal, and she’s super sweet. Took forever to stop her from licking my face.”

The three wolves wagged their tails as their names were spoken, and people who had watched that far were already commenting about how either it was impossible to tame wolves, the canines were incredibly cute, or disbelief at how it’d only been an hour and he already did something weird.

“Now, these beautifuls are strong predators. Usually, they’ll avoid humans, but I’m alone and my facepaint makes me seems less like a threat. They approached me pretty casually, not stalking or anything. I didn’t even notice they were there until I looked around again. And they’re much more tame than most wolves would usually be. Again, it’s likely because I seem unthreatening. Please do not try to do anything like this without training. I literally just did this by chance. I named them and they understand their names, but most animals wouldn’t. I mean, Foo Foo Cuddlypoops didn’t. I don’t think he did.”

Avataratlast: Who’s Foo Foo Cuddly Poops? Another friend?

- Banditrocs: Probably an animal.

Keepitreal: how did this dude manage to tame three wolves? it’s only been an hour?! and why does he wear that makeup? i’m so confused, was this all planned? does he have a crew?

- Boomeranglife: You must be new here.

“So, I’m gonna sign off soon, mostly so I can give these three some love. I think the best course of action would be to answer some of my commonly asked questions, tell you all a bit about wolves, and then give you the official goodbye until I get bored enough that my resolve crumbles. That’ll take at least another two hours with the fact that Lemur somehow managed to sneak my notepad into my bag. I wasn’t gonna bring it because I left in such a hurry, but then I’m inventorying my stuff and find it. Lemur’s such a pal.”

“Alright, gotta start the answers so I get cuddle time with the canines. My frequently asked question get put in a list thanks to my subpar hacking skills. Don’t tell Knife I said that or they’ll make good on their promise to lock me in a closet. Let’s get to it.” The screen split to show a list of questions on one side, the wolves on the other. Some of the questions were blacked out, probably due to being inappropriate.

“So, if it’s blacked out, those are hateful, nasty, or have far too many swears. The first question is the same as always, asking what my name is. My response is the same as always. Smiley emoticon. The next is my age. Under 50, above 10. My gender? Male. Is this a profile or something? Seriously, all these are about my identity. Sexuality? I let the people theorize cause I don’t care about what y’all think, unless you’re a bigot, then get off my channel, pretty please with The Moon on top. Real hair color? Hmm, I guess I can probably give you that. It’s not white. Eye color? Not white, either.”

Actlikewater: is everyone getting this?! he’s giving us information!!!

rockbeatsfire: what r y’all getting hyped up for? he hasn’t said anything

- powertoBoomerang: have you watched these before?

- - rockbeatsfire: i watched that parkour one

- - - powertoBoomerang: one - watch them all. two - you need to be more specific, and three - he never says anything about his identity besides pronouns. we have information. we can figure this out!

- - - - CaptainSparky: Are you sure about that?

- - - - - powertoBoomerang: we can figure this out maybe!

“What’s my nationality? Theorize, ma dudes. I ain’t gonna say, so go to one of those lovely blogs. Boomeranglife is really sweet, they’ve got a bunch of videos all about this sort of stuff. Actually, it might only be about my channel. I don’t really know. I just saw one of their videos and started questioning if I really was a Spirit. Ask them, and give them some love. They a nice peep.”

“What is my favorite animal? Either sabertoothmooselion, flying bison, or flying lemur. Is that seriously a commonly asked question? Am I gonna get spammed with artwork now? Do I need to have a lesson on how to draw flying bison and lemurs and all that? I’m gonna do it anyways, and all artwork is accepted, so long as you keep it PG-13. I’m around kids.”

“Am I single? I don’t know. Really, I don’t know. I could be dating Warrior, or I could be stealing Kuzon. I literally have no idea. I platonic flirt with everyone, and I’m horrible at reading social cues when it comes to romance. Wheaty? Apparently had a crush on me until three months ago. They told me when it ended so I would relax and I had to explain my oblivious nature and crippling anxiety. Ballerina? We’re married according to a small town and soulmates if you listen to a certain nomadic troupe. I might even be dating everyone on the team, heck if I know.”

“Am I a bender? Heh, that’s a good one. Can’t believe you haven’t figured it out yet. Who am I? Hold up, Ima search this.” There was the sound of keys tapping as the screen showed the videographer searching himself up. When the screen loaded, there was a bleeped out sound and the three wolves rushed towards him in concern.

“Holy Spirits! Tui, La, Yue, and Agni! *bleep* I’ve got a Wiki page! They gave me a *bleep*ing Wiki page! I’m not even that popular!”

Livelovemurder: he knows we see this, right

- Boomeranglife: I’m still recovering from him mentioning me, but I don’t think he realizes he is a celeb here

Azulastan: someone get this boy some tea! His video from literally an hour ago already has thousands of views! someone call Bandit!

- SouthernChief: on it! I’ll spam the comments of that last video. Hopefully they respond!

- - UncleTea: Good man/woman/enby!

Livelovemurder: wow, our first reaction to seeing him hurting is to contact Bandit. didn’t she once launch him into a tree?

- UncleTea: that was the first time they were officially friends. now they’re best friends

“Alright, I think we all earned some wolf facts. Did you know that wolves can live over ten years? Pretty long for any wild animal, even longer for a predator in a wasteland like this. Wolves are also extremely expressive for animals, and they’re very social. Wolves can get much bigger than dogs, except polar bear dogs, and despite what most people think, they don’t usually hurt children. Even the really small ones. They’re more likely to adopt your kid than try to hurt them. I personally believe it’s because they’re a lot smarter than most people credit them. Comment #WolfRights below and I’ll see if I can start a movement.”

“Now, I’m signing off once again, so say goodbye to Rookie, Baby, and Fluffster. See ya.”

The second video ended. Comments were pouring in about the clip, and Boomeranglife had already gotten another thousand subscribers in the time it took for the video to be played twice through. SouthernChief did indeed spam Bandit’s latest video, and had the earthbender ignore them until they mentioned that the guy from Boomeraang didn’t think he was popular.

- Bandit: He what?

- - SouthernChief: he doesn’t think he’s popular

- - - Bandit: I’ll take care of it.

Time Skip 5 Hours

The next video was titled ‘Who Sold Me Out?’ The starting screen showed Gurl in their Hei Bai mask, very clearly holding the camera. They waved at the screen before flipping the view around to show what was in front of them. The Boomeraang guy was sitting squashed between what appeared to be several people hiding underneath blankets. He was glaring directly at the camera, face set in a scowl that was once again greatly emphasized by his facepaint.

“Alright, I only got a few minutes to get this out before the others get sick of hiding under blankets. Who the *bleep* sold me out‽ Just because I didn’t realize how popular I am doesn’t mean you needed to call Bandit! Seriously, who was it‽ I’m out on the ice, having the time of my life sketching Baby and Fluffster and Rookie, and then, out of nowhere, Bison is flying towards me with Kuzon and Princess. Then they practically drag me back and I can no longer feel my legs because there’s four people on them. Whoever it was, you’re on thin *bleep*ing ice. I was fine! I was more than fine! I wasn’t the alleged leader of a rebellion!”

“You done?” Gurl asked from behind the camera.

“Yeah, I’m done.” The screen flipped back to Gurl.

“The dude’s been majorly *bleep* off because someone tattled on him. You have the thanks of the rest of us and the anger of one squished Youtuber. He refused to come out of the house, so we all decided to stay in tonight. The protests are over for the day anways, thanks to the fact that the Council is starting to give in. We promised an afternoon of peace so they could discuss it all without worrying. And we’ll be bringing you rebounders to the morning rally as well. NO EXCUSES!” The last words were thrown towards the guy on the other side of the camera, and a loud groan was heard. “He’s gonna do his outro and then y’all are gonna say goodbye.” The view reversed again.

“Signing off for now! See ya, ya traitors!”

The screen cut out.

SouthernChief: i regret nothing

UncleTea: He looked like an angry toddler, OMS.

Boomeranglife: gals! pals! dals! I got big news!

- Livelovemurder: spill

- - Boomeranglife: the NWT is having a bunch of protests all across their cities!

- - - Tyleestan: do we know who’s leading it?

- - - - Boomeranglife: no, NWT is too secretive! i just heard it from a merchant that left as they were starting. we live about as close as you can get to the north pole w/out actually being there

- - - - - SouthernChief: sucks, dudes. next time, for sure

- - - - - - rockbeatsfire: next time there’s a rebellion? does that actually happen a lot?

- - - - - - - Boomeranglife: seriously, watch the videos. I recommend in chronological order instead of by playlists

- - - - - - - - rockbeatsfire: alright, alright, i’m going

#sokka #atla #atla youtube au #youtube au #avatar the last airbender #smellerbee #katara #aang #toph #azula #zuko #suki #haru #teo #appa #momo

9 notes · View notes

bebepac · 4 years

Text

Ghost Girl

This is the 10th chapter of The Life of Riley. To catch up on what’s been gong on, please click

HERE

Riley Brooks and the Royal Family (via newscast) belong to Pixelberry. Jason, Ren, and Jaiden Brooks are my own characters, along with Mrs. Raven, Tucker Adams and Mr. and Mrs Adams.

We’re doing another age jump. Riley starts this chapter as 7, but ends the chapter age 13. Hence why this is a longer chapter, most happens as she’s younger.

Ok this one hits a little close to home for me, because there is a heavy bullying theme in this chapter. I was bullied a lot growing up. I moved from the North (Long Island, NY) to the South, (North Carolina) so I was picked on for my accent being different from the southerners. I wasn’t skinny so that was a picking point, and I was a nerdy, and made really good grades, and on top of that I developed early and got my bra strap popped by a boy so hard one time, it broke. I even used a line that one of my bullies said to me here. This was in grade school and i won’t say my age, but I still remember it clear as day. I asked him. “Why do you hate me?” His response was “Because you exist.” This one was a tough one you guys.

Word Count: 3325

Summary: Riley has show and tell at school, Riley is bullied by one of her classmates.

Warnings: Profanity, bullying, blood, broken nose, funeral of a character. Oh and if you’re weirded out about the supernatural aspect of Jaiden being around I guess that’s worth a mention.

Tagging: @queenjilian @dcbbw @loveellamae @bbrandy2002 @nomadics-stuff

@kimmiedoo5 @kingliam2019 @cordonianroyalty @lodberg @aestheticartwriting @glaimtruelovealways @custaroonie @janezillow @annekebbphotography @queencordonia @cordonia-gothqueen @atha68 @lovemychoices @my0123456789universe @indiacater @losingbraincellseveryday @yukinagato2012 @furiousherringoperatortoad @marietrinmimi @sevenfuckslefttogive @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @flutistbyday2020 @mrsdrakewalkerblog @xpandabeardontcarex @acanthisorbis @axwalker @texaskitten30

“RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYY!!!!” The woman’s voice screamed.

Then Riley heard her own voice in a way that she’d never heard it before. Her voice was heavy, incredibly full of panic and pain. Her heart raced in her chest.

“Poor kid…her life will never be the same, if she ever wakes up..” She heard him say. She felt a pin prick to her arm, and all the voices faded away.

Riley always knew she was different from her parents. From an early age, she had always noticed some insensitive looks when she called her Mom “Mommy or her Dad, Daddy,” out in public. It shouldn’t have been that way… but it was.

Riley had light brown skin when her parents well…. didn’t. Riley’s sweet smile would brighten the darkest night. Ren had braided her hair tight round the crown of her head, and had adorable ringlet curls falling down her back. Even though Ren didn’t know much about Riley’s hair type at first, her mom made sure she was an expert on it, as Riley aged.

Riley hopped off the bus, and leaped into the arms of her mother.

“My Jumping Jelly Bean!” Ren exclaimed, pulling Riley close, kissing her on both cheeks blowing raspberries. Riley’s high pitched giggle was so infectious her mother found herself chuckling too. She put her back down and took her hand. Riley walked with her mom swinging their arms.

Riley was at the breakfast nook working on homework when her dad walked in wearing his police officer uniform. Ren busied herself chopping vegetables next to her.

“Is that for me?!?!?!?!” Riley exclaimed happily as she saw her dad standing in the doorway, with a bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a plush teddy bear in the other. She jumped up and down finding it hard to contain her excitement.

“It sure is!!!!” He instead held out the bouquet of flowers to Riley. “Here you go Jelly Bean.”

Ren giggled. “For the most beautiful princess in the whole wide world.”

Disappointment filled in Riley’s eyes, as she glanced at the teddy bear in her dad’s right hand.

“Jelly Bean,” he had a huge smile on his face, as he put the plush toy on the counter, “One day when you think you are all grown up, you will start liking boys.”

Riley made an ugly face, and said “Ewwwwwwwwww!” Sticking out her tongue. Her father doubled over in laughter. “Please stay exactly like this forever. But if a boy you like one day does not bring you flowers for no reason, he doesn't deserve your heart. You are my beautiful princess Riley, but the one who captures your heart, he should be a King, to make you his Queen. You deserve nothing less than that, my darling beautiful girl.”

Her father handed her the stuffed animal that she quickly took and hugged it tightly to her chest. Before he gave the flowers to Ren though, he gently pulled out one of the roses from the bouquet and handed it to her.

Every time from that day on, if Riley’s dad brought her mom flowers, Riley got flowers as well. Ren decided to get her a vase to keep all the perfectly dried flowers in.

Riley’s mom helped her put on her pajamas and climb into bed.

“Time to dream,” she said softly tucking her in and giving her eskimo kisses. Riley giggled.

“We love you to the moon and back again, Jelly Bean.” Jason gently stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.

Riley snuggled down into the covers feeling loved and fell quickly asleep.

Riley had trouble making friends. Jason never understood why. Riley was so sweet and kind and playful. He would find out though that next day.

The next morning Jason had to get Riley ready for school. He waited at the bus stop holding Riley’s hand until the bus came. Jason noticed when Riley got on the bus, instead of sitting with someone she grabbed a seat by herself.

Riley opened her back pack and quickly got her book out to read, so no one would bother her, keeping to herself.

“Riley!”

“What?” She remarked looking at him. She wasn’t even on the bus a minute when he started bothering her. Tucker Adams liked to bother her every day. “Who was that you were with?”

“My Dad.” Riley commented not looking up from her book.

“He is not.”

“He is so.”

“Then the lady you’re usually with isn’t your Mom.”

“She is too!!” Riley exclaimed slamming her book down.

“Riley you’re Black.”

“So what?”

You can’t be you and have White parents.. Riley’s ADOPTED!”

“I AM NOT!!!” She didn’t know what it meant, but he made it sound like it was a bad thing. As everyone was now laughing at her.

“You’re so stupid Riley. You don’t even know what it means. Being adopted means your real parents didn’t want you, and the people you were living with couldn’t have their own kids, so they were nice enough to keep you instead.”

“It doesn’t matter, my parents love me.” She screamed at them, turning towards the window. She wouldn’t let them see her cry. She quickly wiped her tears away.

Every day was like this on the bus. Every day Jaiden had to watch Riley cry, and get bullied by those idiots.

Jaiden scooted a little closer to her. Too close because Riley jumped. Riley felt an ice cold wave hit her shoulder, and the only time she had ever felt that… she gasped.

She looked right at him but couldn’t see him. “Is that you Jaiden?” she whispered.

“Who are you talking to? There’s no one sitting with you Riley. You’re so weird.”

“Maybe she’s talking to an imaginary friend.”

“She doesn’t have any friends. Even her imaginary ones won’t talk to her.”

"Why do you hate me?" Riley asked wondering what she did wrong to have to put up with this every day.

"Because you exist." Tucker laughed and all the others laughed with him.

“Just leave me alone.” Riley’s voice broke as she said it, her eyes filling with tears.

As soon as the bus pulled to a stop at school, Riley was the first one off the bus, running to her class.

He would be there too. But at least she could be alone for a few minutes before he got there.

Riley liked Miss Raven’s class. Especially on Tuesdays they had Show and Tell. Riley pulled out the framed sonogram pictures of Jaiden.

When Miss Raven asked for volunteers on who wanted to go first, Riley’s hand shot up into the air.

“Riley you can go first.”

Riley held up the picture so everyone could see.

“This is my brother Jaiden. He doesn’t look like this anymore. That’s how he looked when he was a baby. He’s older than me."

“I didn’t know you had an older brother Riley. What grade is he in?”

She shook her head. "This date is the date he went back to Heaven. But then he came back! We used to talk all the time. He was my friend. Then he had to go away again. But I think he’s back!"

“Riley’s brother is a ghost!”

“Tucker! Don’t be mean!” Miss Raven pointed to Tucker.

“Riley storytime is on Fridays.”

“But it’s not a story, it's true Miss Raven it is.”

“You can take your seat now Riley.”

Riley walked back to her desk, as she passed by Tucker, he said “GHOST GIRL!!!”

The whole class laughed at her.

Her next two classes she sat there and didn’t say a word.

Recess was one of her favorite things. She could play on most of the equipment by herself and keep herself busy. Riley’s favorite thing was the monkey bars. Since she worked out with her Dad a lot Riley was strong and could pull herself up easy, and liked doing pullups on the monkey bars. She was next in line, and just when she was about to grab the equipment, she was pushed out of the way.

Riley fell to the ground.

“Hey! It was my turn.” Riley got up off the ground and dusted off her clothes.

“Sorry I didn’t see you Ghost Girl.” Tucker laughed at her.

“That’s not funny.”

“What are you going to do about it, Ghost Girl?”

Riley balled up her fists. Tears filled her eyes. Her breathing quickened.

“Are you going to cry Ghost Girl?”

Other people started saying it too. They were laughing at her yet again.

As he started stepping close to her, it looked like he was tripped, and he fell flat in front of her. She took a few steps back so he wouldn’t fall on her.

Riley smiled. It had to be Jaiden. It had to be.

He jumped up looking around. “What was that?” Did your stupid big Ghost Brother just trip me, Ghost Girl?”

"Hell yeah I did!" Jaiden exclaimed. He was surprised it happened. But how did I do it? He wondered.

“Don't push me down again, and he's not stupid!!!!!” Riley screamed, taking her boxing stance her Dad had taught her and punched Tucker smack in his face, in the nose and he hit the ground, blood gushing everywhere.

"Ow!!! Riley you freak!”

The kids on the playground looked shocked at Riley.

Jaiden looked at Riley impressed. “That’s it, defend yourself little sister.”

Riley wound up in the principal’s office.

Jason showed up a little bit later along with Tucker’s Mother and Father. Before he met with the parents he wanted to speak to Riley alone first.

When she walked in the room, he knew something was wrong with her.

“What’s wrong Jelly Bean?”

Riley burst into tears. “He picks on me every day. He calls me names. Stupid and Adopted, and Ghost Girl. And he pushed me, So I hit him."

The only words that stuck out in Riley’s rant was that he pushed her, adopted could wait until they were home. They never told her, but they were going to eventually talk about it.

“Wait, he put his hands on you?”

Riley nodded. “He pushed me down. I fell on the ground.”

“Riley how did he touch you?”

She demonstrated how he pushed her down.

Jason was almost seized in anger.

He was ready to meet with POS parents now.

"Sorry my wife could not be here."

“We’re going to send you his medical bills.”

“Nope, not going to pay them. Self defense for your piece of crap son pushing my daughter to the ground.”

“Piece of crap son?” Mrs Adams remarked.

“Yes, piece of crap son. What kind of example are you setting for your son Mr. Adams, that he thinks it’s perfectly okay to put his hands on a girl?”

“Are you accusing me of something Brooks?”

“If the shoe fits. I’m glad she knocked the shit out of him. You people here have been sitting idly by and letting her get bullied by him for months. Finally my child has the courage to stand up for herself, and you come down on the person getting terrorized?"

"Mr. Brooks!"

"You're lucky we don't press charges on your son. I think it's ridiculous, Riley is getting suspended for 5 days for defending herself, which i taught her to do, and he gets a slap on the wrist."

"Three days suspension is not a slap on the wrist Mr. Brooks. Riley drew blood."

"You think the only pain is physical pain? My child burst into tears the moment I saw her. I'm done here."

He walked out of the office. Slamming the door behind him. He looked at Tucker Adams sitting on one side of the waiting room chairs, Riley was on the opposite side. He walks up to him. "You put your hands on my daughter or bother her again, I will lock you up under the jail, and I'm a police officer, so I can do it."

Tucker’s eyes widened, "Yes sir!"

Jason had never been happier to be wearing his police uniform. He glanced at Riley winking. Riley had a huge smile on her face. He held out his hand.

"Let's go Jelly Bean."

Riley took her dad's hand walking away with him.

Jason was driving his police cruiser. He didn't want to put her in back so he put her in the passenger seat. "I thought I would be heading back to work. Now we have to go back to switch cars. It's okay though."

"Are you mad at me Daddy?"

He looked at Riley, and her lower lip was trembling.

"No Jelly Bean, I'm not. I will never be mad at you for defending yourself when someone puts their hands on you. No one should ever touch you without you telling them it is okay to. But you should have told us he was bothering you when it started."

"I thought he would just leave me alone."

"Next time come to us."

Riley nodded.

"After we drop by the station, how about we stop for ice cream on the way home. Get some mint chocolate chip? Your favorite?"

"Before eating lunch?" Riley was flabbergasted.

"Don't tell mommy."

Jason drew a zipper across his lips, locked it, and threw away the key. He started mumbling at Riley.

She giggled at him. He pointed to her lips. Riley did the same motions he had, and they spent the next 10 minutes mumbling at each other.

That afternoon Ren and Jason sat down with her and explained about her adoption. They showed her the hospital wrist band.

"Why doesn't it say my name?"

"Because when your real mom and dad brought you in they hadn't named you yet. When they don't know the names of babies in the hospital they name them Baby Girl Doe, or Baby Boy Doe."

"But mine says Baby Girl Doe 2?"

"That means there was another baby girl that didn't have a name either I guess. We never thought about it."

"Even though you didn't grow in Mommy's tummy, you grew in our hearts. We are still your parents."

"I know you love me." Ren and Jason hugged Riley tightly.

**************************************************************************************

"That is just so sad," Ren commented watching the screen. Riley walked over to the television as well.

"What is it mama?"

"The funeral for the Queen of Cordonia is today."

Riley sat next to her mom listening to the newscast. "Cordonian flags fly at half-staff today as a country mourns the death of their beloved Queen Eleanor. We go earlier taped footage of the funeral procession."

Her casket was covered with brilliant beautiful flowers. Trailing behind the casket a man and two boys. It was King Constantine to his right Crown Prince Leo, and Prince Liam. Following them looked like a security detail. As the procession stopped for a second the camera panned to their faces. The last face they rested on was Prince Liam's. He was trying his hardest to look stoic during this sad event, but his eyes told the story of his hurt.

Tears pooled in his sky blue eyes. Riley burst into tears looking at him. "He looks so sad mama." Ren hugged her but Riley couldn't pull herself away from staring at Prince Liam's face. He closed his eyes and tears fell in rivers down his face, causing Riley to cry harder. “It’s like i can feel his sad and it hurts.”

"Calm down Jelly Bean... I'm sure he is sad. He lost his mom. She wiped Riley's eyes. But he'll be fine. He has his Daddy, and his big brother to be there for him."

“Jason…. Maybe we should take Riley to see a professional. She still believes that Jaiden is here. She doesn’t have any friends, and she just burst into tears watching a little boy halfway across the world on television that she doesn’t even know, because he looked sad to her.”

“Riley is fine, she doesn’t need a counselor. There’s nothing wrong with being a loner. Let me tuck her in tonight, I’ll talk to her. She’s had a very emotional day. But no counselors Ren, she doesn’t need one.”

That night Jason tucked Riley in, he wanted to because he had also received a call from Miss Raven about show and tell.

"Miss Raven told me about Show and Tell Riley, about Jaiden."

"Daddy he's back. I know he is!"

"Can you see him?"

"No, but I can feel him, and he tripped Tucker after he pushed me. It had to be him."

Jason smiled. "He's protecting you. Maybe he's your guardian angel Riley."

"That would be cool!"

"Riley, Mrs. Raven told me something else. She says you don't have any friends."

"I don't because I don't need them. Everyone thinks I'm weird anyway. And when I tell them about Jaiden, they leave. A real friend believes. You're my only friend Daddy."

Jason's eyes teared up. "I believe you Jelly Bean."

"I know."

Riley liked activities that she could do alone. So over the years that's what Jason got her involved in. She still liked to work out with him, and he had introduced her to some new fighting styles. She seemed to really pick up the bo staff which he liked too. They practiced in the lawn in their back yard a lot.

They tried horseback riding but he could tell Riley didn't really enjoy it. Riley didn't seem to mind track as long as they were individual activities. Riley liked to compete with herself . And then there was music. Riley had this innate ability to sing and play music. So much so that Jason took her to a Music and arts store for her to pick out an instrument, that he would get her lessons.

Riley tinkered along the aisles touching the instruments. She stopped in front of a guitar. She put the band over her shoulder. The clerk ran over to her. "You're not going to be able to play that one."

"Why not?"

"You're a southpaw right?"

Riley nodded.

"Well that makes you’re special like me, and there are left handed and right handed guitars. Here's how you tell which guitars you can play. Hold the guitar up facing you like this. Now you try."

Riley imitated how he held the guitar.

"Now look at your strings. The thickest string will be on the right or the left. If it is on the left, that guitar is made for a right handed person. If it is on the right it's for a left handed person. Which kind is this….uh…"

"Riley, her name is Riley."

"Riley, she's already got a Rockstar name. Okay Rockin’ Riley, which kind of guitar is this?"

"It's a right handed guitar.”

"Give me some skin, half pint!" Riley looked at him confused.

“High five?” Riley jumped to high five the clerk.

"We have a couple of leftys over here but they're more expensive. Most people are right handed."

"Go pick one Riley," Jason nudged her.

"Pick it up, try it out, you don't pick the guitar, it picks you."

Riley's eyes were drawn to a pink fender acoustic guitar.

"Ahhhh, so the pink lady has caught your eye. Try her out."

He placed Riley’s hands on the strings.

"Watch my hands Riley and move them just like mine.”

He picked up another guitar and strummed the chord.

Riley mimicked his hand motion and produced a nearly flawless chord.

Jason flipped the price tag and winced.

The clerk noticed, and called out, "It's a custom job that was never picked up."

"But is there really a high demand for left handed hot pink acoustic guitars right now? She's also gonna need a teacher. We could pay for that steady revenue stream."

"Half price and lessons for 6 months?"

"Yeah I could swing it."

"Solid!!”

Are we in a timewarp? Jason thought to himself. It didn’t matter. Riley was beaming, and happy and that’s all that ever mattered to Jason. He was dad of the year and Riley’s smile proved it.

By the time Riley was 13 she was playing guitar on her own, composing her own songs she had written in a small notebook. She was still running track, individual events only, and working out with Jason daily, and Riley was super strong.

Jason knew it was only a matter of time before boys invaded the mix, and finally one did. Donovan Jacobs.

#bebepac writes #the life of riley #trr mc #riley brooks #riley b #trr fanfic #trr fandom #trh fanfic #trh fandom #queen of cordonia #cordonia #tw bullying #character death

58 notes · View notes

camillemontespan · 4 years

Text

ten years from now [AU. drake walker x camille montespan] [part thirteen: breaking & entering]

Master List

Warnings: None. Some swear words because it’s Drake.

@moonlightgem7 @jovialyouthmusic @mskaneko @ibldw-main @katedrakeohd @pug-bitch @gooddaykate @princessleac1 @burnsoslow @loveellamae @pedudley @oofchoices @emichelle @simplymissjulia @dcbbw @sirbeepsalot @rainbowsinthestorm @notoriouscs @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @addictedtodrakefanfic @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @nomadics-stuff @gardeningourmet @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019

**********************************

Drake heard the front door of an apartment open and so followed the sound, knowing Camille would be on the other end. He needed to see her. He needed to get to her door, take her into his arms and kiss her all over, never letting her go, and tell her he had screwed everything up and he was sorry, so very sorry, he would never give her a reason for him to be sorry ever again and all he wanted from now on was to make her happy, deliriously happy, fuck everything and anyone else, only Drake knew how to make her happy--

He stopped near the top of the stairs when he saw her face.

**********************************

‘Camille?’ he croaked.

Her eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot from crying. Her hair was pulled back from her face which only served to highlight the hollowness of her eyes; it was disconcerting.

‘Hey Drake,’ Camille whispered.

Drake took the remaining stairs two at a time, stumbling over his feet as he rushed to reach her. He took her by the hands; she felt loose.

‘What happened?’ he demanded.

Camille closed her eyes, her lips quivering. ‘Come in,’ she murmured.

Drake followed her inside, practically holding his breath. He felt as if the wind had been taken out of his sails and he was now just floating without a destination. It was only when he set foot into the hallway that he now realised that he was in her apartment. No, scratch that. Camille and Liam’s apartment.

He swallowed down the realisation that he shouldn’t be here.

What did he expect to happen? He would come to her door and declare his love and she would cast off her engagement ring, throw herself into his arms and scream, ‘YES! TAKE ME BACK TO TEXAS! I WILL CANCEL MY RIDICULOUSLY EXPENSIVE WEDDING AND BREAK MY FIANCEE’S HEART IN THE PROCESS, ALL FOR A MAN I DATED TEN YEARS AGO! LET’S DO IT!’

Drake realised he was a fucking idiot.

As Camille led him through the apartment, Drake couldn’t help but take in his surroundings. The hallway was painted a dove grey, a classy colour, and pictures were hung up artistically on the walls. Black and white photos of cities like Rome and Paris. Black and white photos of Liam and Camille, looking happy and in love.

When they reached the living room, Drake felt like he had landed in a world that didn’t belong to him. He had entered without asking. Breaking and entering.

On top of the ornate fireplace was an ornamental decoration made of little wooden letters: C + L.’ They were that couple. They had their fucking initials decorated around their home. To dig the knife in deeper, there was yet another black and white photograph of the two of them. They were both on the beach, snuggled into each other, smiling and holding up bottles of beer, clearing saying ‘cheers’ to the camera. Drake hadn’t realised that Camille liked beer.

All around the apartment were little details that showed Drake their relationship. The photographs. The wooden initials. The fucking wedding magazines that were stacked up on the coffee table.

Camille turned to face him with her arms crossed. ‘So,’ she said. ‘Why are you here?’

Drake blinked. His throat was so dry. ‘Where’s Liam?’ he rasped.

‘He’s gone,’ Camille told him, raising her chin.

‘Gone?’

‘Yes,’ Camille said, her voice blunt. ‘I told him the truth. He’s taken a bag and has left.’

Drake stepped back in shock. No wonder she looked like she had been crying. ‘Oh god, Camille-’

‘So whatever it is you’re here to say, just spit it out because quite frankly, I’ve had enough drama,’ Camille interrupted. ‘I’ve hurt Liam and I feel disgusted with myself. I broke his heart for nothing and I will never forgive myself.’

Drake dug his fingernails into his hands, trying to keep himself calm. He kept his eyes on her, trying to summon the courage to tell her how he felt. How she made him happy. How he had always loved her. How nobody had compared to her in the ten years since. But he couldn’t get the words out; they were lodged in his throat, refusing to escape.

Camille closed her eyes. ‘Drake, I’m tired,’ she muttered. ‘The last time I saw you, we argued and I said I needed space. Now you’re here, in my apartment, in New York by the way, not giving me space. We have made a total mess of everything and here you are, making it messier! I thought we had nothing more to say to each other? I thought you were angry with me. I thought we were done-’

‘We will never be done!’ Drake finally burst out. He hadn’t meant to shout. He hadn’t meant to interrupt her. But the idea that he and Camille were done had ignited terror in his heart. They couldn’t be done. Not now. Not after everything.

Camille’s eyes widened. ‘Drake-’

‘No, fucking listen to me,’ Drake cut in. He stepped towards her, renewed energy flooding his veins now. Camille kept her eyes on him as her chest rose and fell with nerves. Drake looked down at her now, keeping his voice steady as he began to speak again.

‘It’s been ten years,’ he said. ‘I know that’a fucking long time to hold a torch for somebody but trust me when I tell you that you are worth every single minute. Nobody else has compared to you since, no one. I always kept my feelings down deep inside because I thought we would never see each other again but now, you’re back in my life, even if the circumstances are different. As soon as I saw you sitting in my mom’s kitchen, looking like a fucking New York socialite, I knew I was done for. Because I still knew and loved the girl inside you. The Texas girl who likes whiskey and adores riding horses. The girl who gets lost inside mazes, has no sense of direction, can’t see in the fucking dark, and who has the most adorable laugh I’ve ever heard in my life. I could still see that you were the same, even when you look different and act different. You’re still my Camille.’

His feelings had come to the surface.

‘And then we started hangin’ out again and everything came back, every single feeling that I had pushed down just exploded to the surface. I was practically drowning in you. But I didn’t care because you were all I wanted. Sure, you were with Liam but in those moments when we were alone, I could pretend that you were mine. I got lost with you.’

Camille was staring with huge eyes as she listened to Drake’s words pour from him. He was word vomiting like she often did. He couldn’t stop talking.

‘I was a kid when we dated,’ he said. ‘I was immature. I couldn’t handle my feelings and I shut you out when really, all I wanted was to talk to you. I didn’t realise how fucking good I had it with you. But I’m older now and I know what I want; what I want is standing right in front of me.’

He reached out to graze her jaw with his finger. Camille swallowed but she didn’t move away. Drake took this as a promising sign and continued to speak, his voice growing stronger.

‘I’m sorry I fucked everything up for you and Liam,’ he said. ‘I was selfish. I’m sorry I’ve caused you pain. But if you will let me, I will try every day for the rest of my life to take that pain away and only give you reasons to be happy.’

Camille opened her mouth to speak but Drake bulldozed through; like his mother, he realised.

‘I wanna take you back to Texas,’ he said. ‘I wanna be with you every day. I want to wake up next to you and fall asleep beside you. I want to marry you and have babies with you. I want to celebrate 4th of July with you. I want endless summers filled with whiskey, horse riding, homemade lemonade and peaches. I want moments with you by the jetty, just watching the sun set. I want to be the best possible version of myself with you and I want to watch you achieve your hopes and dreams. I want a life with you, Camille. I fucked up ten years ago but I promise, I’ll never do it again. I know what I want and it’s you.’

He took a breath. His eyes bore into hers; she looked like she was about to faint.

‘It’s always been you,’ he murmured. ‘Always.’

************************************

There was a long, horrible silence. They stared at each other for what felt like eternity and Drake knew he couldn’t take back anything he had just said. But he had meant it. He wanted her to know. She had to know how he felt and if she told him to leave, then so be it. At least, for the first time in his life, Drake had opened up.

‘I need a drink..’ Camille whispered.

Drake nodded. ‘I get that.’

‘Do you want one?’

‘Please.’

He followed her into the kitchen. Drake’s eyes instantly went to the calendar on the wall that was emblazoned with the words WEDDING COUNTDOWN.

Oh dear God.

Camille brought out two glasses and a bottle of vodka. She poured the alcohol into the glasses and handed one to Drake; the vodka seared his throat, making his eyes water.

‘No whiskey?’ he joked, trying to make the mood light.

‘Liam doesn’t drink it,’ Camille said dryly. She tossed back her vodka and didn’t flinch.

Drake eyed her warily. He had no idea what she was thinking. He had expected two reactions; either she would kick him out of the apartment or she would fling herself at him, kissing him with abandon.

She was doing neither of those things.

For the first time in his life, Drake had no idea what Camille was thinking.

*******************************

When Camille finished her second glass, she leaned against the kitchen counter and looked down at the floor with her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Drake stood awkwardly by the stove, unsure of what to do with himself.

‘I’ve wanted you to say those things to me for ten years,’ Camille finally whispered, her voice cracking. Drake held his breath as he listened to her, too scared to say something that would make her retreat.

‘You’ve finally said everything I’ve ever wanted you to say,’ she continued. ‘And I feel.. Strange. Like, happy but sad at the same time, you know?’

Drake nodded silently. Camille looked at him now and rubbed her eyes harshly. When she spoke again, her voice was very small and fragile. Drake wanted to just hold her and tell her all would be alright, but he stayed put.

‘Sad because I’ve hurt Liam,’ she said. ‘But happy because you love me.’

‘I’ve always loved you,’ Drake murmured.

‘And I’ve always loved you, deep down,’ she replied. ‘I never really let Liam in, I can see it now. He had no chance. I agreed to marry him but I knew, deep down, that it wasn’t what I really wanted. I’m a bad person, Drake. I lead him on. He told me he deserves better and I can’t dispute that.’

Drake sighed. ‘You make mistakes, we all do. We just gotta learn from them.’

Camille shrugged. ‘I know. But now, you’ve told me all of this and I need to work out how to move forward.’

They were talking very diplomatically here. Like it was a business deal. The idea that Drake and Camille would end their deep talk in a display of fiery passion was fading by the minute.

‘I’ve got a wedding to cancel,’ Camille said. ‘I’ve got a grandma to look after-’

‘You’re gonna look after Gisele?’ Drake interrupted, surprised. ‘But she’s in Texas.’

‘Yeah?’ Camille said, her voice questioning. ‘I know that. I’m going to be coming back to Texas to look after her when she’s out of hospital.’

Drake’s heart leaped. She was coming back to Texas. She would be near him again-

As if she knew what he was thinking, Camille sighed. ‘I need time to process all of this,’ she told him quietly. ‘I’m coming back to Texas, I don’t know for how long but my priority right now is grandma.’

Drake’s heart sank. ‘Oh, okay. That’s understandable.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Totally makes sense..’

She moved away from the counter now and took his hand, much to Drake’s shock. He looked down at her, his eyes wide, and he could feel his heart hammering against his chest.

‘I need time to think,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll need some space to just think about what I need to do. I’ve got a lot in my head right now, it’s overwhelming.’

Drake nodded. ‘I get that.’

Camille smiled weakly. She squeezed his hand.

‘But I will probably want to drink whiskey by the lake once I feel clearer,’ she whispered.

Drake let out a sigh of relief. Camille smiled properly now, which made him feel better. ‘So, you’re asking for space and baby steps?’ he asked, his voice halting.

Camille nodded. ‘Baby steps.’

#drake x camille

47 notes · View notes

bugaboowritings · 5 years

Text

Map of the City - Queen Bee in New York

Chloe is trying (but in America)

Inspired by @gale-of-the-nomads au , Queen Bee’s City!

here you go, love - @zazzlejazzle

Bascially Chloé does move to New York with her mom and trys to contiune being Queen Bee! Savior of New York. . . .well. . .trying to be at least. . .

I have like 6 WIP’s and the number grows whenever I try to write a new fic. I surprised myself by being able to pump this out under two days. It’s a small drabble, but it was still fun writing out how Chloe would grow and take this role seriously.

Chloé pulled out another colored pen from her case. Testing the ink before she committed to it. Scribbling on the edge of her notebook, checking if it still worked before drawing on her canvas. Looping the pen around till a thick trail of ink left the tip. With her metal ruler in her other hand, Chloé studied the map before tapping her finger on an empty spot. Aligning her ruler on two dots to form a nice straight path. Making them touch. Running her pen down quickly from one edge to the other. Creating a nice thick line in purple glitter gel.

“Sweetbrier Shop to Rivington Street,”

Victims of hit and runs and cheap robberies in the near-by liquor store. She almost got stabbed there once, but she left the fight as if it was just a light scratch. Nothing too major that this hero and a first-aid kit couldn’t handle.

Scratching the color on her key, writing a set of numbers behind it, then capping the gel pen when she was done. Her key grew to be a spectrum of colors with each crime listed. Each color marked off different dangers in the streets.

Tapping her chin with her ruler as she thought over the next points.

“Columbus Circle, Broadway, and Saint Nicholas Avenue,”

All hot spots for black market exchanges. Whether done by slipping it under one’s seat at showtime or in teens' backpacks when they walked home. Her suspicion was based on some loose tells by 'crackheads' and kids that believed something was off. Yet, what really tipped her off were the random addresses, pictures, and tickets she found after confronting that mob-boss. Well, more like lurking around their office till they came back. Long story made short, it was the most anxiety-filled 5 minutes of her life. A moment that some annoying kid from class still bugs her about.

Trying her best to logically connect them to the rumored case of human trafficking, but no vice.

Pulling out a bright lime sticky note from her desk. Noting the weak evidence behind this conclusion. Smoothing the sticky note on the wall to make sure the glue struck well on her poster. Applauding her organization before moving on to the other locations she had to check off.

Even since she came to New York with her mother, Chloé felt an urge to ‘promote’ herself. To prove everyone in Paris wrong. To make them see how much they needed her. To prove that she’s important to their stability. And when they cried for her to return, she would laugh and rub elbows with the western high class. Live in the beacon of the leading fashion trends, technological advancements, and the center of business.

Yet, when she stepped off that private jet- her fantasies were crushed.

Briskly enrolled in school again after the first weeks of setting in America. Given a uniform that clashed with her shoes. Forced into classes that she couldn’t choose (Who would think that every class would be at max capacity during the middle of the school year?) all with students that made her gag when around with. Total snots or geeks, if you ask her.

All and more as her private school crest was stamped on everything and anything. There were times where Chloé had to fight the urge to rip the ‘thing’ off.

So far, New York City wasn’t what she thought was gonna be.

All expect one class.

Political Tensions.

Honestly, she thought it would be a total snooze-fest, a slow recap on every famous war and battle. Yet, she was corrected the moment she stepped into the room. The professor managed to even get her interested in the subject.

Something that Ms. Bustier would applaud at.

From dissecting news reports or tall-tales, the professor made everything seem reasonable when the world proved to be not. Gossip or he-said-she-said silenced itself whenever they were around. The professor was known for dumping essays for their lack of sources. Wishing to read-only facts, why’s or analysis. Kicking out if's and but’s. Using the first five minutes to prep the class or go on tangents as they said the same thing but in riddles. Like the total hippie they were. Something that Chloé didn't really get.

Maybe it’s a cultural thing.

These tangents and riddles would be based on how society will see you one way and only one way. No matter what you do, you will always be the stereotype. This professor wanted the class to break that bubble. Chloé, a foreign rich girl, a nobody on the streets of New York, was expected to speak her mind when asked to and dissect each line as if it was the last word the author ever wrote.

To show that she isn’t a dumb blond or some foreign eye-candy.

Chloé wouldn’t budge with this, but with a classroom filled with people- she strongly dislikes as much as she liked the model of their watches- she wanted to be what they envied. Batting her curled eyelashes in satisfaction when the professor nodded to her answer.

Chloé raised her hand more when the tip of her tongue carried the answer, not caring if it was right or wrong because she knew it wasn’t wrong or it was just something important that had to be said. An idea worth breathing into the air. No matter what her mother said when she noticed all the books Chloé brought home or whatever side comments she heard as she left tutoring, she tried to prove them wrong.

Because they were and they are.

Studying the building blocks of war and politics. The field her father jumped in and out of.

From the Philippines ‘ deadly drug war that claims more than listed, rumored Russian hacking, Brazil’s burning, the US inconsistent investigation, and even her own country’s news- Chloé seems to understand more and more about the world she once thought was the size of a nutshell.

When really Chloé broke out of the eggshell she was sheltered in.

Her mother’s business trips to other companies and international nations didn’t do them justice. Showing the rich and their desk rather than the real people that were hidden in streets or offices.

“Roosevelt Avenue and Times Square, “

Talk was going around about risky projects taking place. Pinning two push-tacks instead of drawing a line between them. "More investigating need", she hummed. Nibbling the edge of her lips, tasting her gloss.

Stepping back from the wall, the blonde ate up her lips in anticipation. In front of her, the picture grew clear and neat. Even if to anyone else it resembled confusion. As if it was a nest of colored branches and loops. After the sixth step back, her back hit the table. Lifting it up before Chloé stepped away. Her pencil pouch spilling her mechanical pencils and pens. Letting them roll away before hitting her laptop. One that had ten different tabs checking the news and double-checking her numbers.

However, Chloé didn't turn to the mess behind her.

She was too busy awing her work.

The complete map of New York City- annotated with each important detail she discovered. Covered in lines and pins to indicate vices or crime scenes. Some colored lines extended out of the map. As if trying to touch the sticky notes or typed up reports on what she squished out of locals or from the internet. Chloe wasn’t a journalist, but she understood the appeal of piecing everything together. What was once an enigma was turning into a complete picture. No wonder that four-eyed nerd went crazy whenever she got a new scoop.

A smirk danced on her face before quickly switching it out for a frown. Ignoring the sour memories in her head, reminding herself of her plan. There was a new objective at hand.

New York was getting a new hero.

Not a movie coming in theaters soon or another comic book hitting the shelves (though she wouldn’t mind if she was the muse for one).

New York City was getting a new super-hero.

A savior, if you will.

One that would do the people justice. By the people. For the people.

Unlike a certain pig-tailed scrub back at home.

#mircaulous ladybug #ml #chloe bourgeois #chloe's path to good #my new tag whether I write Chloe Turning good #she is still my brat #ml fic #fIC #ml au #i haven't watched the new episodes so I been writing to ignore all of yall #seriously too many spoilers #bIG sad #queen bee #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #fanfic #my writings #my fic

173 notes · View notes

larryssunflower · 4 years

Text

The Non-Royal Romance, part eight

past parts: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven

tagging usuals but if you wish to be removed or added let me know! <3- @simplyaiden-blog @butindeed @mfackenthal @addictedtodrakefanfic @confessionsofabrokegirl @american-duchess @drakelover78 @monosodiumglutamateme @crookedslimecreatorpasta @mrsdrakewalkerblog @traeumerinwitzhelden @gardeningourmet @speedyoperarascalparty @agent-zephyrkah @liam-rhys-x-mc-x-constantine @snyggflicka @texaskitten30 @annekebbphotography @irishwhiskys-blog @nomadics-stuff @msjr0119 @catlady0911 @twinkle-320 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @drakewalker04 @bigmemesplz @jovialyouthmusic @sleepwalkingelite @choices-lurker @pintobomb @moneyfordiamonds @mskaneko

This one is pretty long sorry lol

-The night following the Fox Hunt: Alana’s perspective-

As much as I love horseback riding, it really kicks my ass sometimes. After our feast in the lush mountains surrounded by ancient ruins, we endured the rocky trek home. As we descend the trail, my mind is clouded over with insecure and jealous thoughts, nodding absentmindedly as some suitor talks to me. I was determined to immediately dislike the beautiful woman talking to the man I like very much, but she was so nice. It makes it so much harder to hate her because she was clearly flirting with Drake. I haven't been through those kinds of pangs of jealousy before, but I can say with certainty that it sucks. It’s not like I have a right to be jealous, Drake and I aren’t in a relationship, we don’t have any obligations to each other, yet when I saw him with her all I could think about was how pretty she was and how much he probably likes her and how much I wished it was me who was smiling and laughing with him in public. I thought it was just a harmless crush, but it feels like so much more than that now.

Over the past weeks, I assumed Drake was just talking to some guy over his earpiece, not a gorgeous woman. All my childhood insecurities come flooding back and all I can do is stare forward as we make our way down the mountain, demanding myself not to cry. Not only do I feel distanced because of what happened with Drake when he had those night terrors but now he isn’t my personal bodyguard anymore and we barely talk. it’s too much. I didn’t realize how much I care for him until now.

Eventually, we arrive at the Applewood manor and the nobles and suitors find their way to their bedrooms for the night, some waddling uncomfortably. I drop down from Mac and someone comes up to lead him back into the stables. I brush myself off and look up, surprised as I see Drake standing in front of me. “Oh! Drake, hey” I say awkwardly and he smiles. “Princess, I’ll be escorting you to your room tonight.” He says and my eyebrows furrow in confusion. “We had some trouble with some equipment and Silverman was needed for an hour or so, so I volunteered to take you to your room. Shortly after Silverman should be back at your door,” Drake explains, and I nod, quietly celebrating in my head. We walk in the large manor, our footsteps echoing off the walls. The two of us make our way through the tall hallways, a slightly awkward silence hanging before I break it. “Hey, Mage was really nice, have you known her long?” I ask, and Drake smiles fondly, warm light from the chandelier above us casting a soft shadow across his sharp features. My heart breaks just a bit more. “Yeah she’s great, we’ve known each other for a while, we became friends when we were in training together for the service. Even though she is focused on tech, we had the same basic training,” Drake tells me, and I nod along, looking down at my muddy riding boots.

“So, have you guys ever...?” I question him, my heart hammering. Drake looks at me for a moment before he understands what I’m saying. “Oh!” He laughs.

laughs.

“No! No, we have not- or will ever- no.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Why not? I mean, she’s very beautiful and you are handsome and- and why not?” I stutter, my face burning at my rambling words. Drake just smiles, “I’m pretty sure I’m not her type,” He shrugs simply, looking forward. I scoff, “How are you not her type?” I blurt out before I can even filter it from my falling out of my mouth. I gulp nervously and sneak a glance at him but he just chuckles that wonderfully sexy chuckle. “I’m not her type because I’m a man,” he says amusedly, and my mouth forms a little ‘o’ in realization. Suddenly my heart feels a whole lot lighter. “Oh! Well yes, that’s a valid reason,” I laugh and Drake chuckles. Yep, there is no way I could dislike Mage.

We walk up the last set of wooden stairs and finally arrive at my bedroom door. Our footsteps slow and eventually stop. I turn to look up at him. We stare at each other for a moment in silence, the only sound being the rain beginning to patter against the panes of the windows beside us. Our gazes stay unbroken, and I try to tell him it all through my eyes. How I was so jealous for no reason, how I am positive I won't fall for any suitor, and how badly I want to kiss him until I can't breathe. Drake suddenly looks away, scratching the back of his neck. “Hey uh I have to run, but Silverman should be here soon,” Drake says, and I nod. “Thank you, Drake, it was like the good old times,” I say with a slightly pained smile. He smiles back with the same expression and a nod, before walking away. I step into my room tiredly, planning on climbing into bed and thinking about Drake for a couple of hours before drifting off.

I sigh, closing the door behind me and locking it. I make my way over to my dresser eagerly, ready to get out of this stupid riding outfit. Relief washes over me as I relieve my poor feet of my god awful boots. I smile to myself as I fold my jacket up. Drake and Mage weren’t flirting. I know it’s stupid, but the idea of Drake being with anyone else makes me feel sick. I remove my shirt and riding pants, leaving me in my underwear. As I rummage through my suitcase for my pajamas, I notice a yellow sliver of light grow on the wall in front of me and hear the creak of my door opening. I whip around, covering myself up in instinct.

There stands one of the suitors, Tariq I believe, staring at me with wide eyes, a key in his hand. I gasp and fumble trying to cover myself fully, my heartbeat hammering in my chest. Where is Silverman? “I knew it! We do have a connection! I was second-guessing myself but here you are in my room, undressed.” He says, his voice laced with amazement. I sputter in horror. “What, no! What are you-“ I start but he nears me hungrily. I know I can’t fight him. He is taller than me and definitely stronger. My stomach is twisted in fear, tears prickling my eyes. I wish Drake was here. “Tariq I don’t want- no-“ I start again, but he just shakes his head. “Shh, no need to speak. I understand your message loud and clear-“ he says, his voice laden with lust, and he reaches his hand to caress my arm, making me recoil in disgust, my back hitting against the rough edge of my dresser, making my perfume bottle fall and shatter on the floor.

“Hey! Get the hell off her!”

Tariq stops and turns, giving me the view of the doorway, but I didn't need to see him to know that it was Drake. He came. Just seeing that familiar silhouette sends a wave of relief over my body.

Drake starts nearing Tariq, fuming. “But she’s in my room-” Tariq starts and Drake scoffs. “That's bullshit and you know it. Now get out.” Drake orders, clearly trying to stay calm, although I can tell he is the angriest I have ever seen him. “No,” Tariq says stubbornly, and in an instant they are in a full-on brawl, fighting each other. I watch in shock and partly in relief. I have never seen this type of pure anger from anyone let alone Drake. He was annoyed at me before when I was stupid while skiing, but he wasn’t like this. His face is almost animalistic as he punches Tariq square in the face. Surprisingly, Tariq gets a few good hits in, but before long, he forfeits, ducking out of Drake’s reach and running out the door. “Yeah get the hell out!” Drake shouts after him, slamming my door, breathing heavy. “Drake,” I say softly, my heart thundering in my chest, tears flowing from my eyes.

He turns and I run up and hug him. “T-thank you- I didn’t know what he was about to do,” I sob quietly. Surprisingly, Drake embraces me back, enveloping me in his body heat and making me calm down, finally feeling safe once again. I can hear his heartbeat hammering in his chest from the adrenaline. It's oddly comforting. He’s never hugged me back and although its a small thing, its the most wonderful feeling. Like when he caught me on the yacht, the way I feel at this moment, grateful, relieved, and safe. “It’s okay princess, it’s over now,” he says softly in my ear. I don't want to let go of him, but I know I have to. After a couple minutes, I gently untuck my arms from around him, stepping back and wiping at my wet eyes. He glances down at me and immediately looks away, his cheeks tinted. “Um Princess, you’re..” he says, and I look down, realizing I’m still in my underwear. “Oh! shit sorry,” I curse quietly, laughing, embarrassed. This isn't how I pictured him seeing me in my underwear for the first time. I grab one of my nightdresses and slip it own and turn around to see Drake examining his bloody knuckles.

“Drake, you’re hurt,” I say walking over to him. “ it’s not a big deal, just some scrapes and bruises. Nothing I can’t handle,” he says, brushing it off. I roll my eyes at his stupid pride. “Drake for once, just let me help you,” I plead softly and he looks at me for a moment, the harshness fading from his dark eyes, and nods silently. I grab him gently by the forearm and lead him over to sit on the edge of my four-poster bed. “Wait here,” I say, and grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. I come back and drop the kit on the bed. “Okay, give me your hands,” I order, and he complies, lifting his hands up to me reluctantly. I take his bloody, calloused hands in my smaller ones, looking at the cuts closely. After examining the extent of his knuckles, I grab some alcohol disinfectant wipes and start lightly dabbing them on his cuts. He sucks in breath dramatically. “Damn, have anything for pain in there?” He says jokingly, and I smile. “I have a bottle of whiskey,” I suggest, and he grins that wonderful grin, the one that prompts those oh so beautiful dimples, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Whiskey it is then,” I laugh fondly, reaching over and grabbing the bottle from a display on my nightstand. I hand it to him, and he glances it over with an impressed expression. He takes a swig while I clean his other hand. “Damn, that’s good,” he praises and I chuckle.

We stay in a comfortable silence as I wrap his knuckles, one hand at a time while his other holds onto the bottle of whiskey. I reluctantly let go of his warm hand and he brings it down to his side. I hate the feeling of letting him go. “Want some?” Drake offers, tilting the bottle towards me. I smile, taking the bottle. I tilt it back, taking a drink. The amber liquor burns as it runs down my throat and into my chest, settling there. I give him the bottle back to continue patching him up. I glance over the bruise on his arm that I can’t do much about, and realize he must have taken some hits to the abdomen. “Drake I need you to take your shirt off,” I say awkwardly, clearing my throat. He raises his eyebrows. “Trying to get me undressed are you Princess?” He asks jokingly, making me blush, the alcohol definitely not helping me there. Drake takes his shirt off anyway, and I see the huge bruise forming on his side. “Oh my- Drake this is a huge bruise. I didn’t realize Tariq could do that much damage to someone like you,” I say in surprise, leaning in closer to his body to inspect the red and purple stain on his skin. “Someone like me?” Drake asks.

My eyes fly up to meet his and I realize how close I am to him. I can feel the warmth of his body heat. He looks down at me expectantly. I clear my throat, backing up from him, my heartbeat quickening, trying not to think of all the ways he could look at me like that in other situations. “Uh- yeah someone who is um- well built and-“ I stutter awkwardly, but Drake just chuckles. “I’m messing with you Alana,” he says in his deep raspy voice, taking another swig of whiskey, making my stomach do a somersault. I can’t remember the last time he called me Alana, not Princess. I stand there, frozen, blinking at him. I realize how much I like hearing it come out of his mouth. God, that mouth... He notices my expression and realizes what happened and shakes his head with a sheepish smirk. “Heh. This whiskey is really hitting fast,” he says, laughing lightly. I laugh slightly with him as he places the bottle on the floor. I notice that his lip is split. “Hey- You have a split lip,” I say, and his eyes widen slightly as he brings a finger to touch his lips. “Huh. Seems like it,” he chuckles, clearly tipsy. What a lightweight. I smile.

“Can I?” I ask, holding up a fresh wipe. He stares at me for a moment before nodding. I realize that I need to get better access to his face so I gently guide his knees apart, and step between them, coming face to face with Drake. My heart is beating hard again, this time in nervousness instead of fear. I shakingly dab his cut, acutely aware that he is staring at me. I’m nearly done when he speaks. “I’m sorry for going off at you the other night when you asked about-“ he starts but I cut him off. “Seriously don’t be sorry. If anything I should, I was the one being nosy. I’m sorry for pushing you like that,” I say genuinely, and he shakes his head. “I’m not mad at you for that, it makes sense. You wanted an explanation...I could never be mad at you,” He finishes softly, his voice low. “Except when I put myself in danger,” I chuckle, making him crack a grin. “Yeah maybe then,” He says, his eyes moving up to meet mine.

Our faces are mere inches apart, and my breath hitches in my throat. Our smiles fade as we stare into the eyes of each other. The alcohol is coursing through my veins, making me feel lightheaded. To be honest, at this point I can't tell whether its the alcohol or him. He glances down at my lips which makes me dart my tongue out to wet them self-consciously. Thunder suddenly booms from outside, making both of us jump. I look over at the dark window and the flash of lightning outside. I glance back to Drake to see he's is staring at me in a way that makes my legs feel like jelly. He suddenly grabs my face, pulling my mouth to his.

A noise of surprise gets stuck in my throat, and my eyes flutter closed. All I care about is the feeling of Drakes's lips and the faint taste of whiskey and blood. I’m dizzy with happiness like I’m drunk. Drunk on him. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. His arms wrap around my waist and we seem to fit together like we were meant to be here, in each other's arms. I moan softly and break our kiss to pepper open-mouthed kisses on the underside of his jaw. “Alana,” He says in his low husky voice, which makes me sigh with content. “I love it when you say my name,” I whisper, bringing my hands up to run through that hair. God, I've wanted to do that for so long. He leans into my touch, his eyes closed.

I kiss his lips again, and he responds, pushing back passionately, making sparks fly between us. I gasp slightly at his intensity, heat coiling in my stomach. More. More. More my head chants as we kiss, completely lost in him. His taste, his smell, his kiss. can't even process what is happening until he pulls away, and steadies me by my shoulders. I blink in confusion, and he looks at me, the most pained expression across his face. “Wha...” I mumble, searching his deep brown eyes. “Alana... I can’t. It’s not right.” He says quietly. As his words fall out his mouth my heart breaks once again. His rejection is like an electric shock, and I falter backward, away from him and his damn expression. “Shit, I promised myself I wouldn't let this happen. I don't deserve you. YOu are going to be the queen and I’m your bodyguard. Not even that! Not anymore anyway,” He mutters as he puts his shirt back on. I shake my head, tears springing to my eyes. He's not actually- “That doesn't matter,” I say bitterly, resenting my damned title once again. Drake stands up, shaking his head gently. “You know it does. It’s just not right. It's not fair to you. No matter how much I want... It just can't happen,” He insists. “What about what I want Drake?” I ask indignantly, my chest heaving. He just shakes his head again. “I’m sorry Alana. Trust me, I am,” He says, before he walks past me, and out my door.

I stand there for a while, staring into space, in disbelief at what just happened.

----

The next morning is rough. I laid in bed for a couple minutes, replaying last night over and over, making the hole in my chest grow bigger. It was so good until it wasn't. All I know is that I can look forward to partying and forgetting it all tonight at the Beaumont Bash. I’m on my way now, early. I could use Maxwell’s smile. He always finds ways to cheer me up. I just have to decide whether I will tell him about Drake or not.

Our car pulls up to my good friend’s home, and I force myself to stop thinking about Drake. I rush up to the front door, ringing the bell obnoxiously and wait for a couple minutes before the door swings open. Holding the door open, is Liam of all people. I widen my eyes. “Oh! Liam, how great to see you,” I say, making him grin. “Princess Alana! What a nice surprise, you’re early!” Bertrand says from behind Liam before he can speak, making me smile. “Yeah sorry, I didn't think you guys would mind, I was hoping to see Maxwell before the party,” I explain. “Well come in, come in!” Bertrand insists, so I do, smiling at Liam as I pass by him. It's strange, Bertrand knows how the kind of friendship Maxwell and I have, yet he keeps trying his hardest to get me to choose Maxwell, despite Max’s relationship with Allie. Or the fact that I see Maxwell as my brother. It doesn't matter, either way, I couldn't choose Maxwell and do that to Allie. Or to Maxwell.

Speaking of the devil, Maxwell appears at the top of the staircase. “Al!” He enthuses, running down the stairs to me and engulfing me in a hug. I laugh, hugging him back. “Max! It’s been like a day! Far too long!” I exclaim, and he nods, his lopsided grin on his face. He glances over my shoulder, then looks at me with a knowing look. “Hey! I uh need to finish up some things, why don't you keep Liam company until I get back?” He asks with a suggestive tone. I smile and roll my eyes at him, hidden from Liam. “Yeah totally,” I say cheerfully, turning to Liam, who grins.

Liam and I decide to take a walk through the Beaumont vineyards, Silverman trailing a bit behind us. I bask in the warm sunlight as we walk. “This is so beautiful,” Liam comments, his voice calm. I nod. “I love it here. I can’t wait until tonight though, it will be crazy,” I laugh, making him join in. “Yeah so I have heard,” He chuckles. We walk in comfortable silence for a bit, strolling through the beautiful countryside. “You are an extraordinary person, Alana,” Liam says suddenly, making me turn to him with a surprised smile. “How so?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. He smiles, looking anywhere but me. “Well, I think you were very brave to do this whole suitor thing, as you have never even been introduced formally to the kingdom. And they already love you, by the way, Cordonia I mean, and that's just from a couple weeks. You have a way with people. You just capture the attention of everyone around you, not because you demand it, but because they feel you deserve it. We can tell how genuine you are.” Liam says, slightly sheepish. “Liam, that was beautiful. I haven't heard anyone talk about me like that before,” I smile, tucking my hair behind my ear and glancing back over to him.

“Like that! Just you doing that small thing makes me want to kiss you and give you everything I have!” Liam laughs, making me chuckle. I stop, making him look at me. “Do it then,” I say quietly, my heartbeat quickening. “D-do what?” Liam asks, his eyes slightly wide. “Kiss me,” I say with a smile. Maybe Drake was right. He and I could never work. With Liam, we wouldn't have any problems. He is a sweet guy who actually wants to be with me, he would be a great king, and I can actually choose him at the end of this and we would be happy. Liam grins and brings up his hand, gently tucking my hair back and caressing my cheek. He leans in and kisses me gently.

no sparks.

Slightly frustrated by that, I kiss back harder. Come on... they have to appear. I need to feel something. We kiss for a moment before he pulls away with a huge grin on his face. At least he enjoyed it. “That was amazing,” Liam breathes. I smile. Maybe it will get better. If I choose him, eventually I’ll fall for him, and it should all work out.

Right?

My phone buzzes, a text from Max. ‘Okay, you guys kissed so now give me attention’ I snort. “Creep,” I mutter, and Liam gives me a confused look. “Oh! Sorry, its Maxwell, he kind of needs me. I’ll see you later?” I ask, and Liam nods, “I hope so,” He says with a wink, making me smile before turning and going to see what Maxwell wants.

Maxwell meets me in his boutique, and he presents me with a dress. “Hey, I know you probably have thousands of dresses, but I really like this one and its Beaumont colors so it would look good for us if you wore it,” He says with a hopeful smile, holding up a long navy dress with silver details around the hem. Perfectly simple. “Bertrand put you up to this didn't he?” I ask amusedly, and Max smile sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m sorry. He just really wants us to look good, you know with all our financial problems and all that,” he says, looking down. That's the thing about Maxwell, he genuinely hates asking people for help when he needs it, or when Bertrand puts him up to it. “Hey its okay, I know how he gets. I’ll wear it. It's beautiful,” I say, earning a grin from Maxwell. “Thanks, Al. Oh hey, that kiss with Liam looked pretty good,” Max says, raising his eyes up and down suggestively. I roll my eyes. “You are so creepy. You guys seem to be friends, I’m guessing you're rooting for him to be the one I choose?” I ask knowingly, and Max shrugs. “I know your type,” “That’s debatable” “and he is actually a decent guy who is head over heels for you. You should listen to how he talks about you Al,” Max says, making me feel even worse for not feeling it back. For now at least. “I thought you were rooting for my bodyguard,” I say jokingly, making Max roll his eyes. “Yeah I could tell you liked him, but I was mostly kidding. I’m sure you guys would be great but it's not really realistic, you have to choose someone, and your mom would definitely not approve of your bodyguard,” Max says as he rummages through some clothes.

He makes sense. That's what I hate so much about it. But Drake sees it the same way apparently. I ask Max to leave so I can get ready, and he does. Before long, People are arriving, and music is playing. I finish getting ready, putting my hair in a french twist-like hairstyle. I step out of the boutique, walking over to the grand staircase. “Princess Alana of Cordonia!” The herald announces, and I smile as I gracefully make my way down the stairs. I glance at the bottom and see Maxwell dressed up talking to Liam, who is wearing a suit with the same navy colored tie as my dress. Maxwell was sneakier than I thought.

Once I fully descend the staircase, Maxwell offers his elbow and I take it as he leads me into the ballroom. “I can't believe you made me and Liam match,” I say through the teeth of my smile in Maxwell’s ear. “Oh don't be so dramatic,” Is all Max says, making me roll my eyes.

I’m at the head table once again, sitting next to Maxwell. The food is delicious and the company good, I have no reason to complain. I still find myself once again roaming the room with my eyes, searching for him. Weirdly, Drake is nowhere to be seen. He is usually standing with some people in suits. Is he gone because of what happened? I think, a sick feeling settling in my stomach.

The dinner goes by quickly enough, and before I know it, its time for the party to truly begin. The older guests, including my mother, decide to go to bed, while us youngsters wait in the foyer for the famous bottle opening ‘ceremony’. Liam joins Maxwell by holding the champagne bottle, and Maxwell smashes it with a sword, and everyone cheers. Music starts thumping from somewhere, and in an instant, the party has really started.

The night is amazing. We dance and drink the best cocktails in southern Europe. Maxwell tries to shoot apples off of people’s heads blindfolded and somehow a horse is walking around, a suitor passed out on it’s back. I dance my problems away, kiss Liam a couple times, forcing myself to not think about Drake.

The party is in full swing, and everyone is plastered. I personally didn't drink as much, as I must keep some sort of shred of dignity, being a princess and all that bullshit. I realize I need a break from all these drunk people and loud music. It's not as fun to party with intoxicated people when you are practically sober. I sneak off and make my way to my favorite room, the Beaumont study. Its a room with large windows, dark wood paneling, and s comforting old book smell. I loved reading in there when I was younger. I open the door and see a guy looking at some book, and I jump in surprise. “Oh! sorry,” I say so he turns around, and its Drake. I didn't recognize him in a white shirt and denim jacket, not his usual suit. My heart just about falls out my ass.

“Princess,” He says, that same pained look on his face. I sigh and close the door behind me. “Drake,” I say bitterly, crossing my arms. He looks at me for a moment, and I expect him to say sorry or comment about the other night. Instead, he clenches his jaw slightly, looking down. “So Liam huh?” He asks, and furrow my eyebrows. “What?” I ask, taken aback. “When I uh, came in earlier, I saw you two... Kissing.” He says, visibility struggling with the last word. I scoff. “Oh, so you have no problem kissing me like you did the other night then just leaving. But, if I try to get over you with someone else, it's unacceptable. Is that what you are saying?” I ask anger boiling within me. He has no right to dictate my feelings like that. “Yes,” He says, looking up at me. I scoff. “Ugh! You are unbelievable-" I start, but falter as he grabs me by the waist and pulls me close to him. “What is unbelievable is how much I want to kiss you right now and make you forget who Liam is,” Drake says, his voice low, making me gulp. I have some self-control, but he is making it really hard for me. “You can't do that Drake. Toss me away then get mad when I kiss someone else. You need to decide. Are you with me or not?” I ask, my heart thundering in my chest as I search his warm brown eyes.

“You. It will always be you,” He breathes, and in an instant, our lips are attached. My heart soars as I kiss him back, and there they are again. The sparks. He breaks the kiss and starts kissing my neck this time, licking and sucking at the skin. I gasp at the sensation, heat coiling in my stomach. I grip onto his shoulder until he's satisfied with the mark left. That's the thing about Drake. He doesn't hesitate with small polite kisses, he leaves me breathless with his intensity, his strength. He's the kind of man who pushes you up against a wall and kisses you until you can't breathe, aka my type of man.

He kisses me again, and I bring my hands up his white t-shirt, running my hands over his chiseled torso. His hands run up and down my back, at some point one of his hands drifts over my ass, giving it a squeeze, making me squeal in surprise, and he stops, seeing if I'm alright. I just laugh. “Sorry! I just wasn't expecting that!” I say giggling. He cracks a grin. “No, I’m sorry, it kind of just happened,” He chuckles, somewhat sheepish. “Don't apologize, I liked it,” I say mischievously, my heart light. “Well then,” He says, then proceeds to grab me just under my ass and lift me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. I giggle and kiss him deeply.

Liam who?

---

Omg, that was so long guys lol - 5k words! I didn't notice until after it was written oops! I have been so excited for you guys to read this chapter cause it's so juicy!! also sidenote and know all us know that Liam is really a freak who has sex in practically public lmao but not in this fic, haha I hoped you guys liked it! Love you all <3

#tnnr #The Non-Royal Romance #drake #drake walker #mc x drake #trr #choices #choices fanfiction #playchoices fics #part eight #first kiss #freaking finally am I right?

62 notes · View notes

supercasey · 4 years

Text

Nomad of Nowhere Modern Twins AU Camping Shenanigans

I did this because I have fucking writer’s block and my new medication for my depression/anxiety is making me feel a bit sucky as I get used to it, so here, have some antics that I may or may not try writing/drawing sometime.

I’m gonna set this camping trip when Hunter and Skout are in high school (both 15) and Melinda is still in elementary school (9).

For context, Benjamin and Annabeth are absolutely nature enthusiasts- I mean, they built their own fucking house for crying out loud!- so camping trips aren’t all that out of place for them, but this time they insist that their oldest kids bring their friends from school along! (Last time they brought some of Melinda’s friends, they accidentally started a fire, and no one wants to relive that shit.)

Skout brings Toth, who’s nervous AF to meet Skout’s parents (she knows they’re pretty damn accepting and in a polyam relationship, but I doubt anyone’s all that excited to meet their significant other’s folks), while Hunter brings the Three Amigos, which of course includes Null, who he only just started dating in secret.

While Ben and Anna are really freaking hyped for the trip, Adrian is a bit less excited, as he fucking loathes outdoor activities of any kind (the family has countless pictures of them all together after a hike, and Adrian always looks close to passing out in them), but he’s excited to meet his kids’ friends!

The whole group road trips to a nice forest that they can camp in, but due to the size of their crew, they split into two vans: Benjamin, Annabeth, Skout, Toth, and Melinda are in one van, with Adrian, Hunter, Null, Santi, and Jethro are in the other.

The road trip is a fucking MESS; Ben and Anna keep arguing over directions (despite Skout offering her phone for GPS, also Ben can’t drive at all but Anna drives like a maniac), so they get lost for several hours.

In the meantime, Adrian’s van is loud AF, since the Three Amigos are a pretty rowdy bunch, and Hunter convinced his dad to let him choose the music, which is just Lemon Demon at top volume for several hours straight. Adrian is in hell and it’s Touch-Tone Telephone on repeat.

Thankfully, once they get to the campsite, things are looking up... except that Don Paragon’s family has their giant ass RV parked directly next to the family’s campsite, and Don brought Red Manuel along because his parents told him to bring a friend from school. Needless to say, none of the teens are happy to see each other outside of school.

Santi and Jethro almost get fucking lost in the woods at some point, but they end up finding a really nice little unpolluted lake to swim in when they do. They run and grab Hunter and Null to go swimming, and it’s fun until Don shows up and bitches about how since his family is wealthier, it’s his and (I guess) Red’s private lake to swim in (it isn’t), and how if they don’t leave he’ll call the cops on them (he wouldn’t).

During this rant, Toth and Skout finally catch up to the boys, and seeing Don Paragon doing his usual BS, Toth simply picks him up and tosses him into the lake, getting his fancy bathrobe and slippers soaked.

Don goes OFF, but gets cut off when Skout, who’s stronger than she looks, picks up Red and tosses him in on top of Don. Everyone laughs (even Red, though he’s smart enough to hide it), before continuing with their swim (though Don still bitches the whole time).

Meantime, the parents aren’t doing much better. Ben and Anna start engaging in a sort of “Parent Contest” with Don Paragon’s folks, trying to insist that they’re cooler parents/have better kids.

Ben vs Don’s Dad is a lot more hostile/direct, while Anna vs Don’s Mom is a lot more passive aggressive and soccer mom-like.

Ben: “Oh, yer son’s got straight A’s? Well mine can fuckin’ backflip ‘n clap at the same damn time! How ya like dat, Michael!?”

Anna: “Aw, Karen, your son is such a sweet boy! :) Remember the time he made Hunter cry, so Skout threw him off a jungle gym? :)) They grow up so fast! :)))”

Meanwhile, Adrian and the Paragon family’s butler shoot the shit over some beers and ignore their companions’ bullshit.

Despite all of the arguing earlier, Don’s folks are convinced that Hunter and Don are best friends for some reason, so they insist on doing a huge family cookout, which everyone else begrudgingly agrees to, if only because Ben is excited about eating free “rich people food” (which Adrian reminds him isn’t all that better than middle class food, but whatever).

In short; El Rey (Adrian’s dog) eats a bunch of raw hotdogs and pukes them up in Anna’s purse, Skout and Toth almost kiss but Hunter accidentally ruins it by playing his guitar right next to them, Melinda keeps sneaking punches at Don when no one’s looking because that bitch made her big bro cry a lot when he was younger, Ben accidentally sets his poncho on fire, and Null, Santi, and Jethro all get food poisoning from Adrian’s under-cooked hamburgers.

At one point, Nomad (Hunter’s cat) runs off after hearing a loud bang from the woods. At this point, it’s really late at night, and Nomad is a black cat, so no one can find him. Hunter goes into hysterics, as Nomad is his closest friend/therapy cat, so after all the parents go to bed, the teens agree to put aside their differences and go to find Nomad.

Don, of course, makes it about himself and insists he’ll find the cat first, and when he does, he expects Hunter (he makes a mean joke about Skout needing to do it for him) to give him a sincere thank you, and then an apology for his family’s horrid behavior towards him! With that, he storms off, Red Manuel hot on his heels but looking a bit... frustrated? How very weird.

Hunter is so freaked out, he just starts running through the woods looking for Nomad, but luckily for him, Melinda can keep up with him. She’s trying to get him to go back to the campsite, as he’s too worked up to be looking for Nomad, and after trying and failing to talk him into listening to her, Melinda simply sits down and fake-sobs, saying she’s scared. Snapped out of it by big brother instincts, Hunter picks her up and takes her back to camp to wait with her until someone finds Nomad.

Seeing as the Three Amigos are as sick as El Rey was earlier (oh dear god, did Anna flip about the puke in her purse), it’s up to Skout, Toth, Don, and Red to find Nomad.

Toth and Skout use the time to talk in privacy, discussing future plans and how this trip has gone. Skout is embarrassed, worried that Toth hated this trip/hates her family, while Toth is convinced she made a bad impression on Skout’s parents. It’s a bit awkward, but they manage to convey their worries to each other and have them reassured away.

During this moment, they end up in a nice little clearing with dandelions sprouting everywhere. Skout laughs, and says something about how although she thinks the Dandy Lion mascot at school is dumb, she’s always loved dandelions. Toth, in response, plucks the largest one and braids it into Skout’s hair.

Skout’s Honor finally gets their fucking kiss, since up until now it’s kept almost happening, but due to public embarrassment/awkwardness, they’ve held back. Now though, away from everyone, they get enough privacy to have their first ever kiss.

Of course, it doesn’t last long before Red Manuel pokes his head through the trees and asks what tf they’re doing. Both girls go scarlet, insisting it was nothing, while Red simply cackles.

Toth goes to punch him in the jaw, but stops mid-swing when Red, in a panic, holds up Nomad to stop her.

Both Toth and Skout are baffled, surprised that Red managed to catch Nomad. Toth, who’s never much liked Red, asks why tf he’s not trying to use Nomad as leverage over them, or better yet, why didn’t he give Nomad to Don so he could use the cat to bully Hunter some more.

For the first time ever, Red seems genuinely upset with Don, and vents to the couple that Don Paragon’s been an asshole to him the entire trip, and only brought him along to make himself look good in front of his parents. He goes on to say that Don ordered him not to talk in front of his folks, and although Red hated the very idea, he agreed because it was better than staying at home with his mom all summer.

Skout grows concerned immediately, and tries to ask about Red’s mom, but he clams up, insisting that Skout just take her brother’s dumb cat (who seems to really like Red) because he doesn’t want to listen to Hunter freak out anymore.

After Hunter is finally reunited with Nomad, he’s absolutely ecstatic, hugging his cat while dancing around with joy. Once Skout tells him that Red Manuel found Nomad, Hunter doesn’t hesitate to run and hug him. Red obviously enjoys the affection, but he tries to play it off nonetheless.

Don eventually finds out that Nomad was found, and freaks tf out about how he was supposed to find him, and that he was supposed to get an apology, dammit!

Toth fucking snaps, telling Don straight up that he’s a piece of shit and should just be happy that Nomad got found, to which Don says pointblank that he wishes Nomad had gotten eaten by a bear, if only so he could see that “R-slur mute’s” face when he found the cat’s remains. Hunter starts crying, horrified by the mental imagery, while Don laughs at him, calling Hunter a pussyboy for crying. Red Manuel, in his rage at his so-called friend’s terrible behavior, punches Don in the dick.

Don is Surprised Pikachu Face(TM), because what tf is Red doing? He’s supposed to be Don’s little yes-man! Tbh, everyone is shocked, and Red finally loses his shit, shouting that Don is an awful fucking friend, and that he resents even knowing him.

((Me? Craving a future Red Manuel Redemption Arc(TM) almost as much as Season 2 of NoN? It’s more likely than you think.))

By now, the parents start waking up, and Don’s dad asks his son what’s going on. Smirking, and with his back turned to his father, Don says that Red is going to be going home with Hunter’s family, as he believes he’s about to strand Red in the wilderness as payback.

Red is freaked out, and makes to beg for Don’s forgiveness, when Skout outright confirms that yes, Red is coming with them, because Red is their friend!

Don is shocked again, but his parents just shrug and tell everyone to go back to bed. Adrian and Ben (the only ones who woke up, because Anna’s a heavy sleeper) are confused, but when Skout tells them that Red needs a ride later, they just shrug and say something like “Eh, what’s one more fucking kid?”

Red is nervous as fuck the next morning, still reeling over what he said to Don, but everyone (even the Three Amigos, who are all still pretty sick) assure him that he did the right thing.

Ben, Anna, and Adrian agree to pack up a bit early that morning, on account of the Paragon family terrorizing them, the Three Amigos getting sick, and almost losing Nomad. However, to make up for the short and crazy trip, they offer to host a slumber party at their house for all the teens, which everyone is on-board with.

Red’s a bit hesitant to agree, and says they can just drop him off near his place and he can leave them be, but Ben, sensing the kid’s anxiety, assures him that he’s welcome to stay with them for the night. After Skout tells him the same thing (with Hunter nodding in agreement), Red agrees, and has an awesome time with everyone!

At the start of the next school year (sophomore year/10th grade), Red Manuel goes back to hanging out with Don Paragon, but he’s noticeably less mean to the twins, and even gets caught helping Hunter pick up his books a few times when Don knocks them out of his hands in the hall.

Sorry, this kinda ended up as more of an “I love Red Manuel, or at least, my characterization of him” rant, but oh well, I hope y’all like my dumb rambling anyways!

22 notes · View notes

victoodles · 5 years

Text

I Have no Sweetheart but You (Arthur Morgan x F! Reader)

I’m back on my yeehaw bullshit baybee! Find on AO3!

Escapes don’t come often for Arthur - the weight of others’ expectations fall heavy on his already bad shoulders. Though he bears these burdens (as always) with a slight gruff and a spur of his horse as he goes wherever he is needed or told. On occasion it’s both.

But when he finds himself with a moment of time to call his own, he uses the luxury of choice to spend it with you. There aren’t enough hours in the day he can give to you, but he tries his best despite that shortcoming.

Patience is a virtue, and you are the human embodiment of that sentiment. You never complain, even when he is gone for weeks at a time. His basis for comparison isn’t vast, but he considers himself lucky whenever he catches an earful of the caterwauling Molly directs at Dutch most evenings.

When you hear the rhythm of his horse trotting into camp you are there to greet him with a warm smile, like clockwork. Your embrace bridges the gap between you, making him feel like he was never really gone at all. Arthur doesn’t consider himself eloquent like all those fancy romance novelists, but he thinks you feel like home.

It comes as a surprise when Arthur asks if you would be so kind as to accompany him to the Saint Denis. Your answer is yes, of course, but you hadn’t expected him to make such an offer of his own volition. Usually when he talks about the aforementioned city (to which he considers to be the bane of civilization) his choice of vocabulary is quite...colorful.

You tease him, asking what this stranger has done with the real Arthur Morgan, and he gifts you a hearty laugh. You’ve softened his rough edges; your jests are not taken to heart and he is not crippled with self-doubt. He appreciates this carefree atmosphere you provide, it gives him room to rediscover himself after years of molding who he was to fit certain schemas.

Tit for tat - he promises he won’t tell a certain Mr. Morgan of this illicit encounter; he saw you from across the way and was instantly captivated by your beauty. His heart took over any sense of rationality - he had to have you. He reminds you of the highbrow men you grew up around in the very city he detests, the only difference here is that he’s being genuine. That, and he’s a wanted outlaw. But you choose not to busy yourself with that minuscule detail.

You cast your hand over your chest dramatically, feigning offense. “Why, you beast! What kind of woman do you take me for?” Despite abandoning the life of a high-society woman almost a decade ago, the mannerisms are not forgotten. Arthur isn’t the only one trying to grow from past projections.

Arthur smiles sheepishly, dropping the act, and apologizing for offending his dear lady. He offers you his hand which you gladly take, finding a secure place around his arm. “Just wanted to treat ya to somethin’ nice is all,” he admits as he leads you to his Thoroughbred at the precipice of camp.

He knows you would never concede with the notion, but with all this time away he feels as if he’s been neglecting you. After years of watching John act a fool, dancing around the responsibilities of being a husband and father, he fears he might be looking in a mirror sometimes. What he wouldn’t give so you could have some sense of normalcy in an otherwise hectic life. You always gently remind him normal is rather drab, and his anxieties are temporarily assuaged for the time being.

Calloused hands take ahold of your waist as Arthur effortlessly lifts you onto the back of his horse. The action is unnecessary, he’s aware, but he relishes touching you whenever he can. You know this all too well, and gladly accept his assistance. And they say chivalry is dead.

Arthur finds his place behind you, urging the mare away from quiet campgrounds and towards the hustle and bustle of Saint Denis. He’ll put aside his disdain - you deserve time away from the dirt and debauchery despite your insistence to the contrary.

The ride is peaceful, dusk begins to grace the sky with brush strokes of pink and orange. Clouds nomadically drift along the horizon as Arthur passes the time with languid kisses to your cheeks and the side of your neck. With privacy comes his unrestricted affection. His stubble’s tickle is a more than welcome feeling against your skin.

Smog-riddled skylines of Saint Denis remind you both of your quickly approaching your destination; factory smokestacks paint the picture of civilization’s impending “progression” - much to Arthur’s chagrin. Dirt paths transition into cobblestone-riddled pathways; the steady clop of his horse’s hooves distract him from these unseemly surroundings.

He’s out of his element, he knows this, but he can survive an evening amongst the real wolves. Men in tailored suits with overly coiffed hair claiming to be peddling this and that, all in a pathetic attempt to further their life by ruining another's.

Do your worst - he’s never faced a problem that couldn’t be solved with a bullet from his Cattleman.

In front of him, you look around in a way he could only describe as nostalgic. Despite the foul memories, he can’t take away the fact that this was your home. Arthur wonders when was the last time you freely wandered these streets.

Mentally kicking himself, he doesn’t think he ever bothered to ask. His line of work focuses primarily on the day-to-day and very rarely on the when, where, and why. You understand this.

He recognizes that you don’t miss the lifestyle - a girl raised to become a rich man’s parlor piece. But maybe there’s something here, amongst the glitz and glamour, that a piece of you yearns to be a part of again.

It happened with Mary, who’s to say history won’t spare him from its vicious cycle of repetition.

He briefly entertains the thought, but it’s properly discarded and replaced with the sensation of your hand on his. You squeeze it gently, silently affirming you’re happy to be here - with him.

Joys of civilization be damned.

The sign for La Bastille Saloon is alight for the evening, bulbs twinkling faintly as they prepare to rival the stars above. Arthur hitches his horse before holding his hand out to you for the second time that day. You regard his choice of dining with a tilt of your head and a smirk. A jest of some sort most likely dancing on your tongue already.

“La Bastille? Monsieur Morgan, très bonne!”

Arthur looks at you, befuddled. “T-tray bone?” He could be well spoken when he wanted to be, but Arthur wasn’t very cultured per se. You had to give him credit for trying though, the poor dear. A light peck on his lips will suffice. He certainly appreciates it.

“It’s French,” you explain, which does nothing to alleviate his confusion.

“I’ll take your word for it princess,” he chuckles dryly as he lowers you from the saddle.

“Merci,” you continue to tease, playfully sticking your tongue out at him. He guffaws at your impishness as you head for the saloon- tit for tat.

La Bastille exudes old-money sophistication. A place of luxury meant only for those born into the lifestyle. Posh men and women bid you both bonjour as Arthur leads you inside by the small of your back. He pays them no mind - this is a foreign game and he has no interest in learning the rules.

The setting sun against the stained-glass windows casts an array of dulled colors against the polished wooden floor. It’s a pretty sight - Arthur momentarily feels at peace.

Obnoxious chatter about local politics and the burdens of the wealthy reminds him of where he is. While it can be nice to see how the other half live, it quickly becomes grating. He needs a drink.

In standard Arthur fashion, he pulls out your chair and you settle into a small table with a streetside view. You lean back against the plush velvet, smiling to yourself as Arthur walks briskly to the bar for a well-needed whiskey.

It’s a wonder he manages to catch the eye of the barkeep at all. There’s some washed-up socialite squawking in his ear about the city’s imminent regression into an uncivilized ruin. An attitude Arthur can agree with, though he wishes it would happen sooner rather than later.

Arthur finally gets his opportunity to order, and promptly returns to your side with a flute of champagne in hand. Your eyes light up, thanking him sweetly as you take the glass. He grins, agitation washed away as he sits down across from you. With your company always comes a sense of relief; the crosses he bears feel lighter.

He extends his glass towards your own and your smile only widens. You lean forward, elbow perched on the table with your chin in your palm. “What would you like to toast to, Mr. Morgan?” You ask him coyly, idly swirling your drink around. Again he responds with genuine, albeit rare, laughter.

“How about,” he pauses to mull over his words. There’s a list of things he’d like to celebrate, to verbally reaffirm he’s grateful for. Living to see another sunrise, the gang and their health. But ultimately he decides to go with-

“Us.” It’s the one that feels right.

You’re beaming at this point as you raise your glass.

“To us.”

The two of you officially start the evening with a harmonious clink.

***

“A-and I told the purty lady tha’ Micah, the s-slithery snake, had said some ‘ungentlemanly’ things bout’ her.” Arthur emphasizes aforementioned things with air quotes. He takes a generous swing of his whiskey and proceeds with his drunken tale. You’re hanging onto his every word.

“She practically had STEAM coming out er’ ears when she got to the bastard. Slapped him s-SO hard, Micah blacked out! Went down like a sack o’ b-bricks!” Arthur exclaims. You squeak in surprise before taking a less than dainty sip of your fifth helping of champagne. You’ve lost count for your cowboy.

Arthur looks side to side, checking if the coast was clear. “Now don’t go tellin’ nobody darlin’ but,” he hunches over the table and whispers, “I lied to that gal. I jus’ wanted to see her mess Micah up somethin’ fierce.” You put a hand over your mouth to contain the onslaught of giggles that wrack your chest.

“Arthur! Tu es un coquin,” you chide playfully. He responds to your “scolding” with a chuckle of his own - you had taught him some French over dinner. He had to admit he found the language rather beautiful. Or maybe it was you speaking it that he found to be beautiful. He quickly concludes it was the latter.

A lively tinkle of piano keys suddenly catches Arthur’s ear. The pianist plays a jaunty tune with a gusto that has him tapping his foot in tandem. He never thought much of those fancy records Dutch played, but there was an undeniable wonder that live music encapsulated. “Well would ya listen to that darlin’,” he says with an impressed whistle. You’re clapping along softly as well, delighted with Arthur’s childlike fascination.

“I used to play you know,” you say with a swell of pride. While almost nothing in your youth was learned voluntarily, you are grateful for your musical prowess.

The sillies come back full swing when Arthur’s eyes widen and his mouth gapes in awe. “You used to tickle the ivories?!”

“I dabbled,” you shrugged nonchalantly, biting your lip to refrain from grinning madly. “Piano and violin.” Arthur looks at you like you’re otherworldly. Your cheeks are heating up from the intensity of his gaze.

“Darlin’ you,” Arthur is rendered speechless for a beat, “you are incredible.” His sincerity is palpable, it practically sweetens the last drops of your champagne. Your blush spreads when his hand finds yours, softly tracing your knuckles with his thumb.

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear shyly. The more delicate sides to Arthur’s nature are reserved for you (and occasionally Jack). But regardless of your exposure, you still feel the fluttering of your heart like that of a lovesick schoolgirl. “Arthur,” you say his name so melodically each time, he can hardly believe it belongs to him.

He interrupts you (unintentionally) when he notices you’ve both topped off your drinks. “Oh! It looks like we’ve run dry,” he pushes himself up and gathers up both of your glasses. “I’ll go fetch us some more.” You reach for his arm, hoping he’ll let you pay for this round. He’s old fashioned, in a good-hearted way, and simply won’t hear it.

“Now you just stay here and keep our seats warm, princess,” he says with a quick kiss to your cheek. Arthur swaggers away before you could try to get smart with him. You opt to blow a raspberry at him instead.

You turn to the streets outside your window. Evening had cascaded into night, the end to yet another day. Shop owners had closed up and were hurrying home to their wives, beggars to their respective allies. Everyone seemed to have a routine, a place to be. You were born here, yes, traversing these streets countless times as a girl. Yet now you felt like nothing more than a ghost - a mere drifter.

How passing strange.

“Goooood evenin’ ladies and gentlemen!” Arthur’s booming voice pulls you from your thoughts. You whip your head around to find him standing atop the saloon’s grand ebony piano. His quest for drinks apparently abandoned, as evident by the two empty glasses left on the stairs. You’re no match for the giggles this time around.

The bar is eerily silent. Everyone directs their attention at Arthur, expressions ranging from horrified to absolute bewilderment. The ex-starlette nested by the bar actually looks amused for the first time all night. An unsure pianist holds a crisp dollar bill from Arthur as he awaits further instructions.

“I wanna sing a ditty for that,” he points to you, “pretty lil’ peach o’er there!” All the women look to you, wanting to satiate their morbid curiosity and practically shaking from secondhand embarrassment. How would a lady respond to such an inebriated act of buffoonery?!

You’re certainly no caliber of lady they’ve ever seen.

Much to their surprise, you’re positively radiant during Arthur’s pleasantly uncharacteristic address. He very much was the type to speak softly and carry a big stick. But with the help of some liquid courage, he’s publicly showcasing his devotion like the fool in love he is. It’s a good look for him. Arthur smiles from ear to ear, blowing you a kiss. He turns back to the pianist and nods, being counted in by a few gentle chords.

“I have no sweetheart but you, dear. You are the one that I love.”

You audibly gasp at his choice of lovers’ ballad, a sensual tune that had many a young girl dreaming wistfully about romance. While Arthur’s rough, low slurring isn’t what the composer had in mind, the allure isn’t lacking. A few of the previously judgmental women (though they would never admit it) seemed to turn envious at the attention you were receiving. Some unlucky husbands were definitely in for it tonight.

You pay the pettiness no mind, you’re too focused on your own personal performer.

“Close to my heart I would hold you, there where the roses once grew. While in the silence I told you, that I had no sweetheart but you!”

Arthur feels strangely lighter, unburdened by his role in the gang - in the world even. Pinkertons, Cornwall, Dutch, it all fades away. There’s just you and him - a man and a woman in love. Simplicity has never sounded so divine.

“Say that you always will love me. For I have no sweetheart but you.”

You’re already cheering before Arthur can bring his song to a close. It encourages a handful of others to also applaud, paired with some catcalling from a certain regular near the bar. Arthur has never been fond of being the center of attention, but right now you swear he’s thriving in the spotlight.

He’s reveling in it, until he isn’t.

Arthur is swaying atop the piano, his balance leaving him as all that alcohol finally takes its toll. He’s an imposing fellow, but the cruel mistress called whiskey can knock any man down. Literally.

The pianist pushes away from the piano, fearing not just for his nerves but now his physical well-being should this cowboy collapse on him.

To Arthur’s credit, he doesn’t.

“Thank yew and g’night, Saint Denis,” he says woozily just before he falls to the floor with a hard thud. You yelp in shock as you shoot up from the table, knocking your chair over in the process. Saloon patrons don’t know who to watch at this point. Arthur, flat on his back mumbling dreamily to himself. Or you politely shoving your way through a throng of people to reach him. They soon decide to return to their own evenings, having been involuntary participants in your own for long enough.

You take a quick detour to clumsily toss a few coins the bartender’s way. At this point, a bed for the night is not a choice but the only option. Arthur decides he must be the luckiest man alive as he sees not one, but two of you heading his way.

#vic's fics!#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #i love one (1) cowboah #he's so soft and deserves all the kisses

127 notes · View notes

paragonrobits · 4 years

Text

avatar AU where katara is the avatar, but aang is still alive. how? this is how:

Aang is not an incarnation of the Avatar; the Air Nomad avatar perished as a young child (possibly due to normal infant mortality rates, perhaps through assassination sent by Sozin to deliberately destabilize things). Aang’s continued existence is down to two possibilities; 1. the Air Nomads scattered in as a direct consequence of the death of the Avatar, and fearing the comings of war, they scattered to the winds. Aang was still frozen as per canon, though HOW he did this is up for debate

2nd option: Aang is not actually 100 years old here but was born in modern times, as one of the last survivors of the Air Nomads... if not the VERY last, as part of a small group that includes Gyatso, living in isolation from the rest of the world in abject terror of the Fire Nation finding them. When Katara meets them (her and Sokka’s argument leading to them accidentally coming up their enclave), there is almost nothing left of them; the others have perished of old age save for Aang and Gyatso, leaving them to bury what is left of their civilization, so far as they know.

Katara brings them home; her people are also in decline, slowly being battered into oblivion. She doesn’t want that to happen to anyone else. Gyatso (possibly over 100 years old, not dissimilar to the longevity of Guru Pathik) is learned enough that he correctly identifies her as the Avatar, and fears that all the others must have died young in the interim, never knowing their true nature.

(they speak to Katara in dreams. they never lived long enough to do their duty, but they tried. oh, how they tried.)

Gyatso may not live long after this; possibly a fire nation raid (unrelated to Zuko at all, he’s off searching elsewhere) sees Gyatso killed, ending the last remnant of Air Nomad culture and leaving Aang the last of his kind, so far as anyone knows. This presents a troubling image for Katara, and she considers it her fault. She COULD have done something, but she wasn’t able to save him. (Thus, Aang’s well-being becomes something of a preoccupation for her; he is in many ways a living reminder of what will happen to the world if the Fire Nation isn’t stopped. His safety is her way of saying ‘i won’t let them win’, quite apart from her growing affection for him!) alternatively, Gyatso becomes something of an early Iroh figure, and the team grandpa.

Thus, while Aang isn’t the Avatar, he is privy to a lot of knowledge that makes him very wise indeed, and he knows things no one else knows, things that have been lost for a long time. He is Katara’s Air teacher, but due to her learning it out of order, there are... PROBLEMS. Possibly hurricane related.

Zuko and Iroh don’t enter the picture into later; as Katara does not have Aang’s dramatic appearance into the world, they don’t get the message until later on, but Katara’s more proactive and focused approach to Avatar-ing means that once word of her starts spreading, he starts zeroing in ASAP. he might be MORE antagonistic than in canon (Due to Katara’s greater willingness to smack him around, and so he gets more defensive), or the vulnerability that was initially only implied is put in sharper relief. Possibly Katara learns early on of what the Fire Lord did to Zuko, and it teaches her a valuable insight; the Fire Nation are a victim of their own bastardized ideals, and a danger to themselves as much as anyone else. They must be saved from their warmongering leaders. It’s as clear to her as the burn on his face.

#atla #katara #avatar the last airbender #avatar katara #AU #queued #aang #kataang #i mean implied but #what else were u expecting from me

26 notes · View notes

sartorialatlantan · 4 years

Text

Silver Lining and A Brief Backstory

Whether you’re an optimist or not, anyone, even if only in hindsight, can see the silver lining of a bad situation, circumstance or series of events. When I was 20 years old I ended a three-year relationship with my first serious girlfriend. We had met at 17 or so and it was your classic teenage love story. We were young and foolish and led by a shared faith in evangelical Christianity that I would eventually and happily abandon. We had convinced each other and ourselves that it was ordained by god that we came together and that when the time was right we would get married. To add insult to injury we told nearly everyone we knew about our plans at all of 18 years old, so naturally the sting of embarrassment came with the sting of separation. I don’t need to, nor do I care to go into details of our breakup or what brought it about, but this tiny bit of back-story is crucial to understand the silver lining that would follow. Now that I’m saying it out loud, to call what followed a silver lining doesn’t even really cut the mustard, what followed was the absolute best thing that’s ever happened to me.

It’s safe to assume that anyone reading this has been through a breakup, maybe even safe to assume a bad one or two. We all know how down in the dumps, miserable and depressed and isolated and totally alone you feel when you separate from someone you were literally saying, “I love you” to not one day ago. It’s an awful place to be, whether you’re 20 or 35 or 50 etc. it’s just plain awful. And I imagine it’s existentially worse the older you get because of the looming fear that you’ll be too old to meet someone else before the clock stops. While that may be true at 78, the irrational brain of an 18 or 20 year old will tell them the same thing. So in the wake of my adolescent breakup I drank, a lot. I took up smoking and heavy drinking and gave up on the idea of partnering with someone ever again. Some of this ridiculous thinking goes back to the Christian thing, and apologies now if you take offense so some of what I say about that faith. When you’re 20, and for the last 3-4 to years you not only thought, but believed at your bible thumping core that you were paired with someone else by gods own hand and it ends, well to put it plainly you A. start doubting that there even is a god or B. find it impossible to understand why god would start something and end it. Now in hindsight, it’s really a mixture of A and B and I also now realize that if god is real, his most famous creation to date (us) has a beginning and an ending. It’s also very easy to religiously rationalize everything to fit your made up narrative, kind of like biblically cherry picking in reverse.

I’m not going to go into my exiting the church and Christian faith altogether, that would be too far removed from the topic at hand, but I will say that when I left it, and truly let go of it mentally, it was the most calming and freeing feeling I had had at that point. All it took was squarely asking myself, practically in a mirror, “do your really believe in this, do you REALLY believe in ANY of this?” When I answered “no” I felt a combination of grief and relief; on the one hand I was letting go of what had been the norm to that point and on the other I was free from what rabbi’s refer too as “a wrestling match with god”, and that freedom felt better than any made-up wave of holy spirit baptism ever had. Bottom line, if you’re an evangelical and truly believe that you have a private, gibberish love language with god, don’t mock what the Mormons believe, it’s just as ridiculous. I knew too many Christians in those days who couldn’t see that irony. Some still can’t.

Now back to the story. There I was broken hearted and feeling like life was over at 20, it was time to grow a beard and become a wandering nomad. Maybe I’ll get a motorcycle and seek out an outlaw gang and just ride til' I die. Maybe I’ll head up the east coast and get a job on a boat out of New England. Really all of my ideas involved my look first, and occupation second. Anything involving hand tattoos and a long matted beard would’ve sufficed. But then, some time passed and I would eventually turn 21, which opened up a whole new world, the bar scene. Now, still in the throws of depression, single and not loving it, I proceeded to the bar scene with a new drinking friend named Will in the East Atlanta Village. We drank and socialized all over the village, almost every night too, to excess. We were not, living, laughing or loving as the girls touting faux happiness, post break-up say in their Facebook statuses. There was the Graveyard Tavern, a very large dive bar with something akin to a dance floor and a pool table area. Then the Glenwood that at the time had a horror/cult movie theme down to movie posters laminated under the tabletops. There was My Sisters Room and Mary’s, a lesbian bar and gay bar, separated by a side street and Grant Park Pizza. Then you came to the 5 Spot, which was a dive bar and punk music venue, then across the street from there was the Flatiron, which was the shape you’re picturing. It sat below 13 Roses Tattoo, which for that era in my opinion was the best shop in town. If you took a hard left from there you could walk up to The Earl, a dive bar with pretty damn good food and a solid standing room only music venue in back. And lastly across from there was The East Side Lounge, the perfect spot if you wanted to do cocaine while watching Predator 2 on the TV over the bar. I never did cocaine, but everyone in town knew that’s where you went to score some, or to watch Predator 2 while drinking $2 PBR on draught.

This little village was our spot for nearly a full calendar year, Will and I rarely took anyone else along, because no on else was as equally miserable as us and who needs positive company when you’re binging cheap beer pitchers and smoking a whole pack of cigarettes in one night? Now, to be clear, it was always to the two of us but we were making the attempt, occasionally, to meet women. 20 something, tattooed, smoking, drinking, most likely cocaine doing, women who were 100% not interested; we were suburb boys and you could practically smell it on us, and these were city chicks, with sleeve tattoos, hidden piercings and a palpable hate for their fathers. Maybe I’m adding that last part for effect, but you get the idea. Now that said, in that time span I did manage to meet and get to know a girl or two, I think Will did too but nothing ever really stuck.

Now I’m going to back up, but keep in mind this was all happening by night, most nights of the week, but by day I was still working at the same place I am now, didn’t love it then still not crazy about it today, but that’s a whole other topic. Some days after work, before Will and I would venture to East Atlanta I would go meet up with this piano player I had been introduced to by a former band mate who needed a guitar player capable of on-the-fly melodic riffs to accent his songs. In the band I had been in before, that was literally all I did, so we were a good fit. He would play his latest song for me a few times through headphones and then I’d start “noodling” as they say until I landed on some solid melodic hooks to overlay on what he had already recorded. We had a solid system, and he paid me in pizza and beer and we could smoke cigarettes in the studio. Just for a brief tangent, you have to smoke inside in these situations. If you and your fellow musicians are trying to accomplish something in the studio, but you’re walking outside every 20 minutes to have a dart you’ll never get anything done. So I would listen and noodle and drink and smoke and eventually eat. Once I tapped into a riff he liked we’d build on it together, shape it, shorten it, lengthen it, whatever it needed, then we’d lay it down and repeat. This was a regular thing for me a couple times a week. It went like this, get up, go to work, leave, go home grab my gear, head to the garage studio, record, smoke, eat, drink, leave, drop off the gear, grab Will, and be in the Village by 10pm or so. Then we’d stay til' last call, go home, shower, sleep, wake up, repeat. If you’re doing the math, yes I was driving most of the time, it was stupid and reckless and I’m not proud of it and it was over a decade ago lets just leave it at that and drop it. There’s no one to make amends to for anything from those days, other than a few girls that I probably drunkenly intimidated buy hitting on them too much. Anyways, this was the pattern for the better part of 20 to 21. Now, cut back to my Jesus-y girlfriend from the beginning of the story. To the best of my knowledge she was off in a new circle of friends, living and laughing and loving and meeting new people and I knew for a fact she was dating around. Through this new circle of friends she would eventually meet Kristen, and if you know me, then you know my wife’s name is Kristen, yes the very same Kristen. Kristen was 26 at the time, recently divorced from a total dipshit, we’ll leave it at that, and she too was socializing with a new circle of friends.

To help you keep up with the wild web of who begat who, at this point in time, if I hadn’t separated with my girlfriend when I did a year prior, she wouldn’t have started dating who she did and met the string of people who would eventually introduce her to Kristen, my wife today. Now, for her privacy I won’t name my high school girlfriend so for the story we’ll call her Jane. Jane and Kristen and a large circle of churchy band kids all became friends, though only briefly. Kristen being newly single was introduced to some guys via this circle and Jane specifically introduced her to guy named Steven, possibly to date, though I don’t think they ever did. That said, Kristen and Steven formed a friendship and Kristen soon after parted ways with Jane and the churchy band kids because they were all just A. a little too Jesus-y and B. more than immature to say the least. Now I was peripherally aware of a lot of this via Facebook, doing the creepy ex thing. I didn’t know Kristen, but I had seen her in some photos and she had a killer Audrey Hepburn ribcage tattoo, still does obviously.

So, Kristen and Steven are friendly and attend some of the same bars and house parties and she’s out in the world dating and doing her thing. Kristen would eventually meet Steven’s newest girlfriend, Amy. Amy and Kristen became fast friends and were practically joined at the hip. Kristen and Amy were partying, dive bar hopping, nightclub dancing best friends. Meanwhile, just to take you back to my reality at the same time, I was grumpy binge drinking with Will somewhere in the East Atlanta Village. Now, here’s where it gets fun. Amy has a brother named Chad, who at that time was in a band, Chad worked at a little café/bar with a certain piano player, yes, you guessed it, the one I was working with that year. Now through this maze of people Kristen would eventually meet the same piano player and it would be an understatment to say she was into him. One night I’m in the studio with him and we’re sort of half working, half chatting and he starts telling me about this girl he’s kind of seeing and her Audrey Hepburn tattoo. It was one of those small world funny moments, because I knew who he was talking about from my Facebook stalking, and I knew she was hot, no naturally I was envious. Some time later, he would invite me and Will and Kristen and Amy to watch a band play at the previously mentioned Earl in the East Atlanta Village, I knew it well. This is where I would meet Kristen and where our relationship would ultimately begin. I could write another 6 dozen paragraphs on our early dating relationship and how it all went and maybe I will at some point, but the point of this very long-winded essay is about the silver linings of a bad situation. Now to call this love story and how I would eventually meet my wife that I would have two beautiful and amazing daughters with a silver lining to a high school breakup would be borderline insulting. But realize, at 21, now nearly 22, I was still miserable and alone and thought I would be forever. Then along comes Kristen. Now to recap, I split with Jane, became a miserable person while Kristen was divorcing her first husband from college that she really only married to piss off her parents. Kristen would eventually meet Jane, who would introduce her to Steven, who introduced her to Amy who introduced her to the piano player, who she was infatuated with for a brief moment, who introduced her to me. We’re separated by 6 years in terms of age, come from completely different backgrounds and other than this small cluster of people, had no one in common between us. In a very long-winded, round about way, I owe my heartbreaking high school girlfriend a thank you. I had to experience a terrible breakup, the kind where you don’t ever talk again, go through a shitty, drunken, depressing year and ultimately give up on having any semblance of a happy life to meet my wife, and everything changed after that. I didn’t go to college, I had a small circle of friends and most of them avoided the city. It took this wild culmination of events and people I’ve never met to bring Kristen and I together.

You might be saying that story’s not all that compelling, things like that happen all the time, and you’re not entirely wrong, but that said, I still think there’s something special about it.

The year 2020 has shown me a lot about myself. Once quarantine started I quickly learned how unimportant clothes were. Take a moment to catch your breath. I still love tailoring and will absolutely wear dress clothes again, but when you’re staring down a pandemic, drape and tie space just become less of a concern and are quickly replaced with stocking up of frozen goods and day drinking. I’ve spent the majority of 2020 in Vans and golf polo’s, and I don’t hate it. In this time I’ve found a new passion for the game of golf, I’ve cooked new things, in the early days of lock down I got creative with my photography in ways that wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been home all day. I don’t think any of us knows when this nonsense will be over, 2020 might be entirely wrapped in Covid and it might even bleed into 2021, and by then, most of the world might’ve had it. I know that I don’t want it, and if I am to get it I hope to the god I don’t believe in that it’s mild.

When your 6 year old asks if you’re going to be alive when they’re a grown up in the middle of a pandemic it stings, because the reality is I can’t promise her I’ll be alive tomorrow, let alone 20 years from now, so I lie. And when you lie like that to a child you lie big, I tell her I’ll always be alive, that way we snuff out all worry in her little 6-year-old mind, because those wheels are constantly turning. I was burdened with the reality of death at 4 years old, seeing my 19-year-old cousin dead in a coffin after a motorcycle accident. I will shield the reality of death from my kids as long as possible. Life’s stressful enough already, no reason to start the trauma early. I blame that funeral at 4 almost entirely on my hypochondria. I’m that guy, who feels a leg pain and assumes it’s a blood clot bound for my heart. A pain or weird feeling in my side must be cancer. Naturally the rise of Covid has not been kind to this sick part of my brain. As I write I feel funny, the way you feel when you sleep too long and your limbs feel numb, I’m also hoarse from over doing it with a vaporizer recently trying to relax with a little THC. So naturally the weird feelings and throat tickle are Covid in my mind. If you don’t have anxiety, count yourself lucky.

The thing I keep trying to remind myself of is that it won’t last forever. Time literally fixes everything. It took time to get over being broken up with at 20 and even more time for the stars to align and bring Kristen and I together. It will take time for Covid to sweep the world and end and time further still for the powers that be to develop a safe vaccine. It will take time for society to feel comfortable going out mask-less again; it will take time for supermarkets to feel safe enough to take down all the plexi-glass at the checkout. It will all take time and in the end, if we’re lucky, we’ll see the silver linings that came out of it. New interests, new jobs, new relationships, etc. If I hadn’t found my passion for menswear I would not have eventually reignited my passion for photography. If the quarantine hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have done all the self-portraits I did that ultimately inspired a Hunter S. Thompson theme that lead to my newfound love and interest in golf. The new interest in golf led to new ways to spend time and bond with my in laws and my own family. It’s also the first form of physical activity I’ve done in nearly a decade; all good things.

The only thing I’ve never really been able to draw a connect-the-dots of positively around is my job. I’ve done the same thing for 13 years and I’ve never liked it. It has afforded me the opportunity to do things at times, and the schedule has always been flexible around my personally needs, but I’ve never really liked being here. As I write I’m sitting in an office that I’d rather not be in. If I were single and not a parent I would've left long ago. But the stability of this place and the paycheck keep me here. I’d much rather be taking photos for brands, submitting to publications etc. but there’s way to much financial risk in that. The time for that kind of seat-of-your-pants living is in your 20’s, when you’re a renter with no kids. If I could take photos, write, travel, golf, eat and drink for a living you‘d never hear a complaint. Kristen and I often talk about what we’d do with millions to distract ourselves from what we don’t have, and the stress of the day. She works in a very unforgiving retail environment, more unforgiving now with a pandemic on the rise again in our state. I work in print, for my father. A dying industry with a parent as my superior, what could possibly go wrong? We get along 9 days out of 10, but day 10 is always noteworthy. We bend over backwards for our customers, though I don’ think they care. We once had a 20 years long client say they were thinking about switching to another printer, just to shake things up. This after 20 years of late shifts, miracle timing and total and complete ass kissing. That day I learned, that quality service only matters to a select few, the rest just want to see the bill.

So that’s 2020 so far, new interests popping up, old interests taking a back seat, looking to the past to see the greatness that came out of dark times, hoping the future is as bright as today is, compared to the depths of despair I found myself in at 20. Still thinking there is no god but hopeful for an afterlife of some kind, wondering if there is a god why he’s letting old people who literally hang his picture in their dining rooms suffocate from a wet market virus that our leadership dubbed a hoax in the beginning…I will not go on a political tangent... By the time 2020 wraps I hope to be alive and well, I hope that everyone I know is alive and well too. I hope that Kristen finally lands herself a job in UX, she graduated from her UX academy in March and so naturally the job market has been slim pickings. Beyond that, I hope to find myself doing something other than what I do now at some point. When I dwell for too long about how many hours of my life I’ve spent folding booklets for people who are ultimately going to throw them away I feel myself reaching for the bottle. Bottom line, things aren’t great now, but I hope they get better. The funny thing about that is, according to Buddhists, it’s the act of wanting something, which causes suffering in the first place. So maybe the answer for the shit storm we’re all in today lie’s in the Buddhist teachings. I’m not about to proselytize Buddhism, but what I do know is the first truth as they call it is basically, that “suffering exists” and the second truth is that “desires and ignorance cause the suffering”. So it could be a major over simplification for our current state of affairs, but maybe if we stop wanting a better today and just accept today for what it is, we’ll all suffer a little less. Because whether we’re here for it or not, the sun will rise again and set again. The earth will turn and everything that is happening today will happen again tomorrow. Time fixes everything, and we can’t control it. So pray, meditate, work, golf or buy a motorcycle and head to the nearest New England port and join a boat crew, there’s no telling what kind of crazy we’re all going to wake up to from one day to the next, so to end on a cliché, make the most of today and try focus on the positive, maybe the stars will align and when it all shakes loose, you’ll meet your Kristen.

1 note · View note

thoughts-n-paper · 4 years

Text

It was just one of those mornings, one of those rare ones, one where she did not wake up out of place. Everything was at the right time and the right place, no confusion, no conflict, a perfect harmony. The dew from the previous night was sparkling on the green leaves as the sky filled itself with the orange morning glow, she even got to hear a bird sing. The perfect day and she ruined it by waking up.

She could have stayed in bed with him, wrapped around each other in silence, embraced in a void where nothing travels, not sound nor thoughts, not even time. She could have stayed, yet she didn't. It wouldn't be fair, she told herself, dragging up fantasies and living in fairy tales, it wouldn't be fair to stories in her head. she walked towards the outhouse, her feet against the coarse ground, she can barely tell the difference between the two now. She could picture his feet, soft and protected against the cushion of the sole of his shoes, living in his luxuries. He will grow old with a million distractions, finding someone to love, someone he will make a home with, make a family and she will be just a fading dot to him, a spot on his eye which he will eventually rub out. His world had that luxury, hers didn't. She can picture them, the tall buildings her grandfather used to tell her about, millions of tiny lamps lit up at the same time, the world glowing up, demanding attention and in one of those boxes, his face, lit up because he is happy, happy without her. That is the image she will keep in her heart, his life going on, him happy and satisfied. She will hang onto it till her last breath, she will clench her wrist tight and hold on to it, digging her nails into her skin so deep till the moment is absorbed in her blood and is running in her veins. Just the one image though, she tells herself, she cannot have too many of those flowing in her or she won't be able to lift herself.

The professor's message came early in the morning and it was clear enough that his work was done, he had perfected his experiment and this would be their last day together. A portable time machine, arrangements of magnets and wires, just iron and copper, that was all it took to shatter her. When the letter came, she didn't wake him up, she let him have his sleep, let him be restful for happiness or disappointment, whichever comes to him naturally.

"You are up early." She heard his voice coming from behind her. Without turning back she gestured to him to take the little piece of paper in her hand.

"Is this from the professor? Did he find a way out?" He asked her, confused by the message.

She turned halfway and gave him a side glance, "You should get some breakfast." And turned to stare ahead.

She could feel his stare shoving into her. She kept walking ahead, searching for a tree or a wall to hide behind. How she wished that the rubble of the old buildings would collect itself and reverse itself into the tall structured one it once was, she could disappear into one of those, lock it up and not go out for a day.

The crops in the field had grown healthy this year, pretty soon it will be time for the group to move somewhere else. A family would move into the house they built, the crops would be harvested, walls replaced and eventually, every trace of their existence would go away. The other night she had thought to ask to stay back on the farm and take care of the place, some people did that, change career paths and settle down. Laying on the bed next to him, she had created a whole life for herself. But the knock on the door broke the spell.

"So this is it huh?" His voice startled her. She did not feel him following her. She took a deep sigh and finally turned around to face him. He quickly ran up to her and wrapped his arms around her. Her face felt wet against his shirt, she did not realize she was crying or for how long she had been crying.

"Hey! It might not even work."

"Come On." she chuckled. "Don't get my hopes up."

"Maybe I don't go back."

She broke from the hug and looked at him with a quizzical look. "Can you though? Stay?" She turned away from him. "You know what happens. The plan, you go back, tell everyone and you change the future."

"I know. I know." He put his arms up in frustration. "But are we certain that it can be changed? Maybe you can't change the future." He walked close to her and took her hands in his, "Can the professor confirm that the future will change, that anyone would listen to me? First of all, we don't know the experiment would work, second, what are the rules? Can the future be changed, do we create some parallel universe? And why would anyone listen to me, I will be just some guy in a crowd of billions shouting the same thing every day? Nobody listens and nobody cares. Why would they care about me? Why would they listen to me?"

They both knew they were just excuses. Saving the world was not the reason he had to go back. He did not belong here, at this time. He grew up with a different set of rules, he was not a nomad like her, his family did not give him up and he did not give up on them either. He had to go back, no matter how much they both wanted him to stay. He was the piece that belonged to a different puzzle box, it doesn't matter how much they colored him to fit in, he would never fit in.

The walk from the farm to the building was quiet. It was as if the world around could sense it too, the wind did not ruffle any leaves and the birds did not care to sit on a branch. Nature knew to be quiet that day, mourning their story.

Hand in hand they approached their destiny. The professor was all smiles when they reached him.

"It's cliched but, EUREKA!" The professor shouted.

"Subtle." He grinned. "How did you figure it out anyway?" He asked while looking around the apparatus.

"This." The professor said while throwing a book at him. " All the answers we need. I found it in one of the abandoned libraries, thought it might come handy someday. It is a pity someone would just abandon books like this, we can learn so much about the 21st century just by reading them." The professor kept on rambling while going around the amphitheater.

The dome was one of the few big structures that survived the century. They were lucky that this village was not too much affected by disasters. The soil survived which meant that only a couple of batches of crops were ruined, and the houses were pretty intact so they didn't have to set up tents and spend their nights trying to twist in a sleeping bag. Although, moving to any place above the net survival rate was always risky, mostly the places were completely abandoned which meant days of field clean up, both wild flora and fauna and constant fear of when the old walls will give in and crumble on their heads. Or there would already be a community settled, in that scenario, they just move to the next project. Apparently, the smaller the population, the more closed off people become. They don't accept outsiders nor their ideas. It's things like these which make her glad that he will be going back, he did not have to go through the abandonment, the disappointment of this world and he would not have to go on surviving this attempt at utopia after destroying the one they already had.

She still couldn't look into his eyes. He placed his hand under her chin and lifted it, "It's okay,"

It felt more like a question than a statement, so she nodded.

"We don't have to do it right now." The professor said from behind them. "Take a day off, go have a picnic, say goodbye to each other, properly. I will still be here tomorrow."

"No." She walked away from him towards the setup. Pretending to examine it. " We shouldn't keep him long. There is a letter from The Center, they have summoned him, hearing is in a week, they want to question him, keep an eye on him. Inspection officials could show up any day. You know how they are, they don't want any locals or rebels disturbing the flow."

"Oh!" The professor sounded sad, he wanted them to have more time together, in his excitement he forgot the heartbreak he will be responsible for. " Well tonight then, we will do it tonight, after dinner."

They both nodded. "Now go!" said the professor gesturing them to get away from him. They both gave a little chuckle and started walking towards the door.

It took them five minutes to decide what direction to take after leaving the professor. The age-old question, what would you do if today was your last day alive?, everybody had some answer prepared, something to impress the person in front of them, something even to just joke about, but when the day comes, nobody wants to do the things they said, nobody can decide what they want to do, she could not decide, neither could he. They could go to the hilltop and make shapes out of clouds or go to the lake and watch ducks float away on the water. She could show him all the places around that he didn't get to see, but they are just abandoned relics now, they were much more beautiful in his time.

"Let's go to the railway station." He said breaking her chain of thought. "Jog up old memories." He smirked.

Just another abandoned symbol of an era, an earthquake had blocked all the tracks passing the station and fixing it was the least of anyone's worries, also nobody went there because it was too far from the safe zone, funny how they were yet to establish a proper lifestyle and had already got gangs trying to rip them off. She only encountered them once but pretty soon realized as long as you have something to trade your safety with, they will let you go wherever you want.

The place was quiet except for the sound of wind-fighting off the scraps of rusted tin. It was a horrific reminder to the way things were it was also one of the few places she found peace at, a place to sort out her insides. A place where they first met. He was wearing the same jacket that he wrote that day, however now it was covered in dust and torn from several places.

She remembers it like it was yesterday, he thought he was a vampire, said his skin was burning from the sun and his memory was gone, she just laughed and took him with her. They had met his kind a few times, quarantined from birth and drugged beyond tolerance and rationality, it was a wonder he escaped his parents considering the tight control they kept, saving up themselves for when the government would make everything all right again, just like old days.

Of course, he did not belong to that community, he did not belong to any community of the new world. It took her a full week and him two hours to realize that they were not from the same time. Somehow one branch of the tree had bent down to merge with its root. They didn't know-how and after a while, they didn't care.

"Now what?" She asked him.

"Nothing, we do nothing." He smiled at her and sat down beside one of the walls. He gestured her to sit next to her.

"So, going back. Do you think it will matter?"

"It should, you can't change your past, but the future is always uncertain."

"So I go back and tell everyone and you grow up with space houses and Jet packs."

"If you can save some fuel, then maybe."

He chuckled. They sat in silence for a while, her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and him tracing her fingerprints in memory.

Nothing about it made sense, the beginning, the middle and the end. Their lives were ruled and consumed by the randomness of this one event, they spent weeks trying to understand and here they were, still oblivious. And was coming to an end.

They were at a waterfall, she had not been to this one before, in fact, she had never been to a waterfall before. People didn't go in untreated water unless they wanted to kill themselves or just ruin the rest of their lives. He took her hand and led her to the highest rock, she kept trying to stop him, tried to warn him about the risk of going in the water, but he wouldn't listen. She giggled when she felt the tingling in her toes as she stepped in the water, "You don't giggle much. You should do that more.", he said sitting down on the rock. He wasn't wrong, she wondered why was that, it was not like she had it especially rough. They all grew up together, facing the same hardships, some fell in love and started a family while some went on their way, exploring other worlds and some stayed, building up the new world together, still they never forgot to smile so why did she? She was lost in thought when she felt the touch of his hands and she was bought back to the physical world from nonexistence just like the fingers do not exist unless they are pressed against something, he was her surface.

"Hey wake up! It's dark already."

She opened her eyes slowly, it took her a while to make out his figure in the dark until he lit up the candle. "We should be going. Professor would be waiting for us." He was gathering up their stuff in the light of the torch. The rebels would be arriving any time to set up camp and even though wildlife was rare, it was never a good time to run into something with sharp teeth. He turned to her and came close, he placed the torch close to her so that the only thing illuminated in the vast black space was their faces and he wiped a tear from her cheek. Lately, she had been spending a lot of nights crying, the dark would trigger this storm inside her too strong to hold back. It would always leak out eventually.

When their lips finally separated, their faces were drenched and eyesight was fluid. She pressed her head against his and stood there, there were stones in their shoes and wet sand in their pockets, no matter how much they shook it off they couldn't move.

"Just give me a minute." The professor said to them while he went to work on his apparatus. She did not want to look at him and couldn't look at her either, they both stood next to each other, holding each other's hand, staring at the man running around in front of them with promises of rift and repair.

"Well, say your goodbyes now." The professor took him by his shoulders and walked him to a spot marked 'X' on the floor. "I won't bore you with details, but just stand there and in a few minutes you should be at your home running to hug your mother."

He smiled looking at her. They spent last night talking, they spent the last six months talking, narrating every story they lived and describing every scar they got, this day, their last day together and they barely said a hundred words between them. Maybe it was the word 'goodbye' or every word that came before and after that, but there was nothing to say to each other which would make them happy and so they just didn't.

"Let me know when you get home." She said with a smile on her face. He nodded back.

She closed her eyes and imagined them in the waterfall again, playing in the water, kissing as the drops ran down on the side of their faces. No worries and... A thunder-like sound broke her thought and then in a blink of an eye, he was gone. He was a distant memory now and she was too far for him to reach. She was left standing there staring at a wall, trying to conjure him in between the space. "Do you think he made it?" She asked the air which was left where he was standing.

"Maybe you should read this." the professor handed her a book, she could recognize the cover, something the professor showed them earlier, dug up from the professor's dusty collection. "Thank you, but I am not really in the mood." she replied dismissing the offer.

"Please. The first page." The professor nudged the book towards her.

"Fine." She took the book in anger and opened it in frustration, "What about it?" she asked as her eyes cruised through the page, and there in bold letters, stood the words she wanted to hear at the moment. 'As my father would say everyday growing up, "I made it home."'

#short story #climate crisis #dystopia #dystopic #romantic short story #romantic one shot #romantic #love story #doomed future #future doomed #time travel

4 notes · View notes

jovialyouthmusic · 5 years

Text

Interlude to Protect and Serve

Word Count 1126

A/N Just a bit of silliness to follow the idea of the characters in P&S being self aware.

Warnings - nothing explicit but sexiness is an issue.

Location - Applewood Manor, after the relevant scenes there.

MAW (our middle age writer) screwed the plotline up a little, forgetting that the Hunt came before the scene with Tariq in Riley’s bedroom. All the characters have returned from their ride, while Bastien and Sophia (Mr B and Miss S) stayed behind and did unspeakable things in their private suite, unheard and unseen, and for some reason a new desk has been ordered for Bastien’s office.

There is some concern, as MAW hasn’t called on the characters for some days. They gather in the Ballroom, all talking at once, confused and concerned. Drake takes it upon himself to take charge, as MAW sometimes meets with him in person, though her new found obsession with Mr B has meant he’s seen a lot less of her. He jumps up on a table and bids everyone silence

Drake Okay everyone, settle down. There’s no need to be concerned, things are great!

A snigger runs through the assembly and Prince Liam points at the t shirt he’s wearing, which has Drake’s face and ‘Things are Great!’ printed on the front

Drake That’s not even funny any more Liam, grow up

Liam (muttering) Max is laughing

Drake and your point is…

Liam scowls and shuts up. Maxwell looks hurt and leaves the room

Olivia Who died and made you boss anyway?

Constantine Yes, I think it should be me making the announcements

Drake Well, speaking as the person who’s had most contact with our esteemed writer…

A ripple of laughter runs through the company, and Drake scowls

Drake Yes well, I’m her companion when she visits our virtual realm, and we’ve gotten very close. I know she’s written more about Bastien lately – but I’m still in the picture, and her fic with Lucy and Brad still features me prominently.

Liam I don’t know what made her call me Brad in that one, Liam is a perfectly good name – very regal…or, you know, someone could call me L i am – you know like Will i am, very contemporary…

Drake (ignoring Liam) Look, I’ve managed to hack into some of her stuff – you know how we’re all here because of all the talented writers who uh – ‘play’ with us.

He pauses to make air quotes. Everyone surprisingly waits for him to go on

Drake Well, I get written about so much, I can sometimes see other things that she posts.

A chorus of ‘oooo’s go around the room, and they crowd forward asking him questions. They all want to know about their overlords and what storylines they might be plotting out.

Drake Hold on, hold on, you all know when they post what’s going to happen, I don’t have a magic mirror.

He turns to Bastien and Sophia

Drake You two should be more careful, she’s beginning to realise you’re still at it like rabbits even though she’s writing fluffy scenes for you.

Sophia blushes, but Bastien puffs out his chest and nods with a pompous grin on his face.

Drake If she ever finds out you’re not as well endowed as she’d like you to be…

Sophia Hey, it does the job, I’m not complaining. He’s my Sea God. If he was that well endowed he’d destroy me!

She gazes as Bastien lovingly, and he puts his arm protectively around her shoulder. Olivia mimes gagging

Olivia Give it a rest you two. I know you’ve been in my room – Bas, I want that pair of red silk camiknickers back.

Sophia Bas! You said you wouldn’t. You’ve got me now, why would you want anyone else’s panties?

Bas goes pale

Bastien What? How – it wasn’t me, I swear! I have my goddess, why would I?

Sophia Bas, you are unbelievable – in fact you are quite literally a jerk…

She storms off out of the ballroom and Bastien pursues her

Bastien Wait – Sophia please, it wasn’t me – come back…

Everyone turns to watch them leave, then look back to Drake

Drake Okay, well, what I called you all to say is – she’s taking a little break. She’s got a lot on her plate right now and it may be a week or two before she’s writing properly again. She’s not stopping altogether but it will be difficult.

Everyone starts talking at once

Drake Calm down, we can do whatever the hell we like while she’s gone. I know it’s not Ramsford, but she won’t know if we have a gigantic party. You know they only see what they want to see…

There is a commotion by the door and Bastien re-enters, leading Maxwell by the ear. He stops in front of Olivia. Sophia follows them, a look of thunder on her face

Bastien Maxwell, tell Olivia where I just found you

Maxwell Ouch, leggo! Okay okay, I was in Olivia’s room, what’s the big deal?

Bastien The big deal is what you were doing, and what you are wearing. Pants off if you please, master Beaumont.

Maxwell Have you lost your mind? In front of everybody?

Bastien You know very well why. I will personally catch and pluck every peacock at Ramsford if you don’t comply RIGHT NOW

Maxwell (gasping) You wouldn’t!

Bastien Bessie will most definitely be first…

Maxwell You fiend!

He drops his pants in front of everyone to reveal – red silk camiknickers. Olivia gasps loudest of all

Olivia Maxwell! You pervert!

Maxwell But they’re so – silky…

Sophia Bas – how could I ever doubt you – I love you!

Bastien Sophia – you never said – oh my darling, I love you too!

The two lovers embrace and kiss – and Bastien starts to sneak his hand under Sophia’s dress

Sophia Oh Bastien my Sea God – Take me now!

Olivia Dear God – they’re at it again! They’ll have screwed each other silly by the time MAW comes back…

Riley Nobody’s reading right now – I call orgy! Drake, Liam – come over here and ravish me on the table!

Drake You don’t have to ask me twice…

Constantine Regina my darling, let’s withdraw, there is a shocking lack of decorum in this room

Regina Constantine my stallion – lead me to the bedroom. We can still perform like we’re young again…

Liam I think I’ve gone off the idea…

Drake Suits me fine, Liam. Brace yourself Brookes, I’m coming in.

Maxwell Hey Livvy, how’d you like to get your knickers back? I’ll take them off for a blowjob

Olivia How about I cut your…

Maxwell runs… All around people are pairing off – some sneaking off to various bedrooms, some pulling the tablecloths and carefully set cutlery and place settings onto the floor, or sneaking behind the curtains. All is chaos, while MAW obliviously clears and cleans the house for her RL guests…

@stopforamoment @sirbeepsalot @bobasheebaby @cora-nova @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @lolablackwrites @burnsoslow @dcbbw @bbrandy2002 @katedrakeohd @hopefulmoonobject @emceesynonymroll @nomadics-stuff @pedudley @debramcg1106 @mfackenthal @innerpostmentality @pug-bitch @ritachacha

#protect and serve #fanfiction #royal romance fanfic #drake fanfic #bastien lykel #sophia x bastien

35 notes · View notes