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blackkatmagic · 10 months

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Jaster/Granta in "woke up married"

When Granta wakes up, it’s to a splitting headache, a ring on his finger, and a frankly obscene amount of sunlight streaming in through the entirely uncovered windows.

“Ugh,” he says with deep disgust, rolling over and burying his face in Jaster's blanket-covered hip.

“Not the most resounding affirmation of our marriage,” Jaster says dryly. He’s sitting up, leaning back against the headboard with a pad up, and Granta opens one eye to squint up at him.

“I don’t think you should be taking that tone with me after I dug you out of a Sith temple,” he informs his new husband, but tips his head to look at what Jaster is doing. “Looking up solicitors to get us divorced?”

“Looking up planets without extradition treaties to the wider galaxy,” Jaster says without hesitation. “The moment Myles hears I married a crime lord, he’s going to mobilize all of Mandalorian space to hunt me down and then mount my head in his parlor.”

“I'm a businessman, officially,” Granta says lazily, though the part of their meeting where he killed a Sith ghost and rescued Jaster from an eternity of torment as a Sith soldier—not for altruistic reasons, of course, but because he’s been meaning to add the book Jaster had latched onto to his collection, and Jaster had tried to take his head off when he attempted to retrieve it—probably undercuts the assertion slightly.

Jaster hums, unimpressed but indulgent. “You're also officially my lord and master,” he says, apparently unbothered by this as he scans the pad. “So, husband? What dastardly commands do you have for your enthralled servant who exists at your pleasure?”

With a snort, Granta rolls over onto his back, raising a brow at Jaster. “You might be a thrall to my will,” he says dryly, “but if last night proves much, it’s that I have to beg you to do anything.”

“Mm, you do beg very well.” Jaster lowers the pad, sweeps a glance over him. He pauses, clearly debating something, and then says, “If we were to tell Myles that you have absolute control over my will—”

“I'm very fond of you,” Granta informs him. “Specifically of your cock. But even for you, dear husband, I'm not going to piss off the kriffing Mand'alor.”

“Coward,” Jaster tells him, but it’s amused more than aggrieved, and he leans down to kiss Granta lightly.

Granta smirks lazily, sliding a hand into Jaster's short hair. “Oh, absolutely. That’s the best part of being a criminal overlord. I don’t have to worry about moral uprightness or any principles beyond self-preservation. You should try it.”

“So you saving that Twi'lek girl who verbally abuses you and calls herself your bodyguard—”

“We’re not bringing Eldra into this.”

“Or your angry pet murderer—”

“Or Maul. Close your mouth.”

Jaster laughs at him instead of listening. But then, last night’s mad bit of impulse while thoroughly sloshed was largely focused on the hope that being married would make him listen slightly better than the dastardly Sith magic, so that’s not exactly a surprise.

[Buy me a coffee?]

#my writing #kat drabbles #jastergranta #jaster mereel #granta omega #star wars

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see-arcane · 5 months

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I'm really curious what the dynamic between Walter and Jonathan would be like. Up until the reveal, I feel like they would get on well, but knowing Walter was a mole all along, I'm really curious what he's thinking under the surface.

Jonathan probably sees a friendly equal-opposite to Prof. Van Helsing in him. Walter's far more placid, far more comfortable with non-human comrades, far more ready to strike down enemies to protect his people/home (so it seems), and has a general way of carrying himself like a confidante to everyone under the Hellsing roof. His affect is a holdover from a more old school lilt--not Victorian, but an age just a skip afterward. Even Alucard, still dressed in Victorian chic, doesn't speak with that inflection. Jonathan likely feels like he can speak with an echo of the home he was ripped away from.

Walter, meanwhile, is in that unique limbo between Mole Waiting to Betray Everyone for His Faux Vampire Special Duel Showdown with Alucard...and putting seemingly genuine effort in trying to ease everyone's hackles down when some new horror show pops up. He's Alucard's aging friend. He's Integra's aide. He's Seras' shoulder to lean on. He's Jonathan serene haven of classic politeness and warm regard that even the rest of the soldiers can't offer, seeing him only as a time warped cryptid oddity.

The big issue comes back to Jonathan's increasing skills, supernatural ability and very real odds of doing damage to Alucard before Walter or Millennium ever has a chance. Walter's whole point in sneaking over to the undead Nazi club is so that he can regain his youth, get a power boost, and face off against Alucard over an ancient grudge he pretends isn't there. But even at his lowest, I doubt he'd try to off Jonathan himself--too many red flags would abound, and Alucard, who's on the solicitor like his own shadow, would definitely Know.

The alternative is ensuring that Jonathan is:

A) Kept cool-headed enough to not focus on eventually offing Alucard. Walter would ironically be the biggest voice speaking on Alucard's behalf, pointing out all the good he technically does (under orders) and how he's a monster on a leash. A maker of thralls, now forced to be a thrall. Poking at the empathy angle.

B) Possibly subtly egged on into ~being useful~ and putting himself in harm's way. Jonathan is chronically unable to Just Take a Seat unless physically restrained. So, much to Alucard's delight, Mr. Harker would likely start popping up in the field for the sake of helping the team. And maybe working off a little volcanic steam...

...a fact that Walter would doubtlessly leak to Millennium, ensuring the enemy will know about it, either to zero in on him to attack or abduct.

Thankfully, as per shounen rules, Jonathan will be leveling up as a threat, not unlike Seras' evolution. At best, he'd suffer some kind of close call--a bullet, a blade, a bite--with his weird constitution being just on the edge between life and death. Again.

(A great opportunity for Alucard to get a Moment. He knows Canon Dracula took a bite ages ago. The potential for turning is there, waiting in Jonathan's veins. So he cuts open one of his own veins, threatening to 'save' Jonathan if he does not fight this off and get up. Now.)

((Jonathan is on his feet in 0.5 seconds, kukri ready. He is Something Else. He is not Schrodinger, both alive and dead, here and nowhere. But he exists by a Holy will; the god in question is a mystery, but it has called dibs.))

(((Sorry, Walter. He's sticking around.)))

#love me a ramble #jonathan harker #dracula #walter dornez #hellsing #alucard

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robislav1986-blog · 2 years

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I’ve been reading a lot of posts in the Dracula Daily tag where first time readers note how surprised they were at how well Bram Stoker is able to portray trauma in his characters. I felt it was worth mentioning that there’s a bit of history from his personal life that may shed light on that. In 1882, Bram Stoker received the bronze medal from the Royal Humane Society. It was awarded to him for his efforts in rendering aid to a drowning victim.

According to reports of the incident, Stoker was traveling via steamboat when he witnessed a fellow passenger deliberately jump into the Thames River. Stoker dove in after the man and tried to keep his head above water until they were picked up by a boat. When attempts to revive the man failed there, Stoker proceeded to *carry* the stranger to his house, laid him upon his kitchen table, and called his brother, a doctor, to render medical aid. Ultimately, they were unable to resuscitate the man.

The man that Bram Stoker tried to rescue remained unidentified, though some thought he may have been a soldier due to some branding on his skin and a missing finger from some previous injury.

Knowing that about Bram Stoker, it’s no surprise that he was able to present PTSD in a nuanced and sincere manner after having that kind of encounter with death. And given mainstream Christianity’s position on suicide being a mortal sin, it’s not hard to infer that Stoker’s efforts were motivated by the desire to save not just a man’s life, but his very soul as well. Even with all of Stoker’s efforts, the man’s death would have weighed pretty heavily on his mind. It’s only natural to assume that Stoker must have carried a considerable level of guilt from that experience.

So yeah, I think the reason that Stoker portrayed PTSD so well is that he was probably unpacking his own trauma through his writing.

With that in mind, it’s not hard to draw parallels between this real-life tragedy and Lucy’s death in the novel. One was a nameless (possible) soldier who had presumably been forsaken by society and had nowhere else to turn, and the other was a bright young woman who was struck down in her youth when her adult life was only just beginning. And this is ultimately what makes Abraham van Helsing Bram Stoker’s self-insert. Like Stoker, Van Helsing was presented a stranger in desperate need of help, whose life and very soul were on the line. And, like Stoker, Van Helsing proceeded to move heaven and earth, doing everything in his power to save this individual. And still came up short.

I also think that a lot of Bram Stoker’s qualities are reflected in the other characters as well, and not just the protagonists. A lot of commenters have remarked on Dracula having so many characters who do good for its own sake, whether its a small coastal community giving a hero's burial to a brave sea captain or a handful of peasants risking the wrath of a supernatural being to save a traveling solicitor. It’s easy to see how such portrayals of universal goodness can come across as trite or insincere, but it’s wholly earnest when portrayed by Stoker, because the characters’ capacity for courage and kindness are a reflection of the moral fortitude of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to jump into a river to save the life of a stranger.

I can picture Stoker, hunched over his writing, trying to come up with the words to properly convey the tragedy of Lucy. He pauses and his gaze falls upon that bronze medal, a reminder of his valiant but futile efforts to save a lost soul he encountered by total happenstance. It’s not hard to imagine him writing those scenes while remembering that night where he stood in his kitchen, clothes still damp from his dive into the Thames, listening to the doctors as they solemnly tell him that there’s nothing more that can be done.

Ultimately, what sets Van Helsing apart from his creator is that Stoker was able to give Van Helsing a second chance. The Dutch physician was ultimately able to redeem his failure by saving others from Lucy’s fate. There may have been some level of catharsis for Stoker in writing the triumph of his heroes, and I like to think he found some level of peace in that.

#dracula #dracula daily #dracula spoilers #bram stoker #lucy westenra #abraham van helsing #cw suicide #cw drowning

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stardancerluv · 10 months

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A Time to Love and to Fight

Part Twenty - Three

Summary: The past comes to visit Enjolras while on the vastness of the ocean.

Notes/Warnings: Mentions of Courfeyrac being questioned about Enjolras. Dated view of women..life…marriage. Mentioning of a duel. Angst in relation to what happened to Enjolras with the Royal army.

Thank you for reading! ❤️s & reblogs are always welcome. Feedback is also very…very welcome!

“Enjolras, take your angel and get out here.”

He nodded. “Go to my solicitor. He will surely help you, Grantaire if he is with us.”

“Fine, now go! Run!”

Courfeyrac met his comrade’s, his friend’s eyes one last time. Then he watched as he ran off holding his angel’s hand.

His arm trembled as he lowered it. Nights prior, they had sworn to the death. Their hands clasped in the promise. Even then he had not wanted it to get to that.

He deserved a life and so did Enjolras. Especially since the sweetest angel had entered his life. His friend deserved to have the life people dreamed of.

The only strings he had connected him to Govroche which was severed no more then an hour ago, the one with Grantaire shook. Last he saw him, he was slumped over drunk in a corner. Willing he released the one with Enjolras. He wanted his friend to be happy.

Behind him the wood burst as what remained of the doors flew open, cold fear ran down his back. Royal soldiers poured out. One that appeared taller turned and his sharp eye landed on him.

********

Stars erupted in front of his eyes as another blow landed. “Tell me where he is?”

“Who?” He would not betray his friend.

More blows landed.

Behind them he heard a shuffling sound. Blinking he saw a staggering Grantaire.

“Enjolras, where are you?” He rubbed an eye.

In his hazy sight, from under a swollen eye he watched as the tall solider turned to him.

The man grabbed Grantaire by the collar. “This Enjolras where is he?”

*******

A stewart helped Enjolras carry the trunk to the small cabin the two of you were going to share. You followed close behind and only kept your eyes on them.

The trunk took up most of the room.

“Your solicitor made arrangements that you and your wife,” Pausing, he glanced at you. You replied with a polite nod. “There is another gentleman traveling in a manner similar to the two of you. The two of you, and the man shall dine with members of the crew, if you wish it.”

Enjolras brushed his hands against his trousers once they placed the trunk on the floor. “We will consider it.”

“The food with us will be more to your liking, and what you are accustomed to.”

Enjolras, pressed his lips together and nodded. Reaching into his pocket, you caught the twinkle of a coin.

The man gestured dismissively with a hand. “Thank you, but all has been arranged.” He held the brim of his hat and nodded. “I shall leave you both, as I have to aid with the prep of departure. Monsieur, Madame.”

You could barely give him a polite nod. Your heart thudded heavily. Desperately, you tried to ground yourself, you fidgeted with your gloves behind your back.

The door creaked and the clang as he closed it behind him, it made you wince.

“Ange?” Enjolras’s voice sounded far away. You were certain you felt his solid warmth.

*******

A part of him was bemused. The first night he visited you, a fainting spell fell over you. Here you both were about to embark on a journey that would carry the two of you to a new life, a new world and here you were as delicate as a flower in his arms. And yet, you were strong, standing firm as he fought the royals but now you wilt. Something, about it made him smile.

He traced the curve of your cheek with his scarf. He was grateful they had left some cool water in the room. He taken it upon himself to moistened his scarf. As he continued to graze your features relief filled him as he saw a gentle stirring within you.

“Enjolas?” Your lashes danced against your cheeks as you came around. The flush in your cheeks was finally beginning to fade.

“Yes, mon amour?” Your eyes met his, he smiled.

“I fainted?”

“Yes, and once again I caught you.” He added softly. “Something I shall never tire of.”

******

You had removed the pins from your hair, they were in a neat pile on the table beside the bed. Nestling close to Enjolras, you rested your head on his chest. Glancing down, you eyed both yours and Enjolras’s boots as they sat on the floor at the end of the bed. Despite, being assured by the captain that the waters wouldn’t be terribly choppy, the two of you had tucked them into a tight niche. You hoped that the captain was right and the choppy seas would be later on in the trip.

Tilting your head so, you caught Enjolras eye. He grimaced.

“Shall, I refer to as Julien while we dine on this ship? Or as …”

Your words got lost in your throat. You had never imagined anything like this ever happening.

He smiled then.

“You may only refer to me as your amazing husband.” He paused and his lips curled into a quick smile. He cleared his throat. “In all seriousness, perhaps Julien. No one except my family knows me by that name.”

You nodded. “Julien.” You tested it again on your lips.

A smirk curled his lips. “I never thought I’d enjoy hearing my given name on anyone’s lips.”

You gave him a shy smile.

*******

In small mirror, you managed to set your hair once again. Turning your head, you eyed yourself. You gave Enjolras a smile as your eyes met his.

You turned and looker up at him. “Is it ok, that I’m nervous?”

He nodded. “Yes, love. But remember you charmed my heart and all those that met you. And you will once again.”

You nodded.

******

You practically hopped into Enjolras, grasping his arm while walking down the corridor. A sizable rat squeaked as it scuttled past the two of you.

“Don’t like rats ?”

You nodded, glancing behind the two of you. “They would constantly invade the cellar and ruin things.”

“I don’t like them either. I was grateful where I lived they never climbed so high. Though, Courfeyrac complained bitterly about them.”

******

As much as he wished to eat with the crew, etiquette dictated that a man of his standing would eat with the captain. To be fair, he had befriended General Lamarque and that had not gone so bad. Perhaps, the captain would share stories of being the ship.

Despite starting a new life he would not let it change who he was. Life would certainly be easier in some ways but he would remain aware of the world around him and you. Inwardly, he sighed. He had truly been given a second chance, a chance with you. He would make this work.

*******

“There I was standing on the foremast. The waves were as big as hills in the country side.”

The captian paused, and cackled. He brought one of his ruddy hands to his chest.

“Madame, excuse my enthusiasm. It has been a long time since I’ve shared my stories or been in front of a lady.”

“Oh.” You gave the captain a smile. “You are quiet alright, Monsieur.” You took a sip from tankard.

“You are kind. Julien, you have a good wife. It has been too long since we have had such a sweet presence on board.”

You could see how the remark pleased him.

“I will agree with you. Lucky a man is to have such a good wife.”

You flushed at his kind words.

*****

With your arm looped with Enjolras’s, you walked back to your quarters.

“I believe that went well.” You said happily.

He patted your arm. “I agree.”

“Monsieur Julien?”

Your heart stilled, a nervousness blossomed in your stomach. As you both turned to the voice.

Enjolras rose his eyebrows, as a questioning look washed over his face. “Monsieur Fournier ?”

“Yes, may I ask for a moment of air with you?” He quickly looked between the two of you.

Enjolras, pressed his lips together, then nodded. He glanced down at you. “I’ll see you back at our cabin.”

You nodded.

*******

The floorboards creaked and groaned as the boat cut through the water. The air, was not dank here on the deck. Glancing upward, he squinted as he took in the sight of the white sails flapping in the wind of the setting son. He marveled for a moment that a man could know the winds and where to follow them. Despite how brash the captain was, he was a smart man.

All that surrounded them was the water. He swallowed down the unease it planted in him. He didn’t like that there was no where to escape to. He felt as confined as he did in that alleyway where he had clanged swords with that solider.

He had thought surely he was close to breathing his last but Courfeyrac had appeared and shot that man down. He truly hoped his friend, his comrade was still among the living.

“Over dinner, it struck me you are Marquis Alarie’s son, are you not?”

Enjolras, stilled and he turned to the man. He had not wanted to go above deck with him but surely avoiding an invitation such as that would be suspicious. He, both of you had to be careful.

“It is I, Bellamy.” A huge smile appeared. It fought against the vivid scar that was across the man’s face. “We used to get into the muck quite a bit when our mothers allowed it.”

He narrowed his eyes as looked the young man over. Then his eyes grew.

“Bellamy! My old friend what are you doing here? And your face? What happened?” What had happened in his adult years. He had always been too boastful; he could only guess that it caught up with him.

His friend smirked before shrugging it off. “A duel with a Royal Solider.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I had been flirting with this girl. Apparently, she split her time between me and the solider.”

Enjolras ndded.

“So, I made her choose. I am no fool.”

“You never were.” He agreed.

“So at one dawn; a few weeks ago was our duel.” He chuckled. “It was fantastically dramatic. Something that would appear in books. I even managed to wing him through the pain and blood that fell into my eyes after the blow he landed. Its by miracle my physician saved me.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “Your handsome face is gone.”

He smirked. “I have character now.” He took a step closer to him, his chest puffed out. “And he’s stuck with a girl with a so so family. Not that it matters now.” He sighed. “Father, figured I had better go to London in case the solider gets drunk and wants to finish what he started.”

“They can be pretty ruthless.”

He nodded. “He had wanted to deal a death blow. What little feelings she had lingering for me caused her to pull him away.”

Enjolras made a face. “She was there?”

“She insisted.”

“Ah, that kind.” He pressed his lips together.

“Yeah.” His friend gestured to his hand. “What happened there?”

“Solider.”

“Ah. Good thing, he didn’t take the hand.”

“Yes, luck lingers around us apparently.”

“Well, I better let you get back to your little cabbage. She seems sweet and delicate.” He paused. “May I be bold, old friend?”

Enjolras nodded. “With our past? Of course you can be.”

“I had always thought you’d marry someone more feisty.”

Inwardly, he smiled. You were strong, but he wasn’t about to divulge that. “She is my sweet girl.”

“Good. I am happy for you.”

*****

Enjolras, locked and leaned against the door. You immediately stopped pacing and came over to him. “Are you alright? Should I, should we be worried?”

Enjolras cupped your cheek, his thumb gently caressed your cheek. A smirk curled his cheeks.

Confusion blossomed in you. “Julien?”

“Nothing happened, mon amour.” He smiled. “He is friend when I was nothing more then a boy. He is not aware of what came of me after our childhood years.”

“The two of you used to be friends?” You brought a hand to your mouth.

“We were.” Enjolras chuckled. “He’s here because of a duel. He will only help our cover all the more.”

“Happy to hear it. I had been worried.”

“Soon, once we are on firm ground we will no longer have to worry.”

*******

Leaning just so, Enjolras snuffed the candle’s flame, once he laid back he pulled you close.

Greeting his past just now made he wonder. If he would have been that insufferable. Inwardly, he shook his head grateful his life led to this moment.

“Enjolras?”

“Are you sure everything is ok?”

“Yes.”

@aftertheglitterfades @corrodedcoffn @dealswiththedevilsblog @randomstory56 @pl1nfa1 @phantomxoxo @ladybug0095 @the-iridescent-phoenix @maryan028 @kindablackenedsuperhero @amethyst-serenade @crazyworldofsiani @moondev1l @samunson83 @julieteagk @little-wormwood @wafflepixie @shadyhamiltonfanatic @gretavankleep37 @peacefroggg23

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marypsue · 2 years

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Been thinking about Stranger Things s1 characters in the events of Dracula and vice versa (because they’re both ‘small groups of loosely-related characters experience a supernatural mystery from different perspectives and ultimately have to team up to figure out what’s really going on and how to fight it’ stories about The Power Of Friendship And Love And Also This Gun I Found), and.

Jonathan Harker somehow has an even worse time in the Upside Down than he did at Castle Dracula. Mina Murray-to-be-Harker absolutely refuses to believe that he’s skipped town and left her at the altar, because...something something Christmas lights? (She also doesn’t need to do a blood exchange with the monster to track its movements, here, because psychics are well established in the series lore, but she might need to be a little cagey about who she tells about that...) Disgraced presumed-crackpot Dr. Van Helsing is, of course, the only one who believes her. At first.

Joyce Byers’ youngest son is Not Himself. The doctor she really couldn’t afford was convinced it’s tuberculosis and she’s making herself hysterical over it, but that wouldn’t explain why Will’s acting so strangely lately. Or why he seems to be losing so much blood. With her husband...abroad, her family out in the country, her older son working long hours as a solicitor’s clerk to try to keep them out of the poorhouse, and no one else to turn to, the friendship she strikes up with a wounded American soldier ends up becoming a lifeline. In more ways than one, because as it turns out, this isn’t the first time Jim Hopper has seen blood loss like Will’s...

Also featuring such highlights as:

Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler work for the same solicitor, him as a clerk and her as a secretary. Her fiancé assumes she’ll give it up once she becomes Mrs. Harrington, but Nancy’s discovering she doesn’t really want to, and that she might have more in common with the ‘New Woman’ than she’d realised.

Lucy Westenra disappears from rich popular Arthur Holmwood’s pool party, and her friends and boyfriends shut the entire fucking town down to look for her. Barbara Holland gets preyed on by a vampire and nobody but her parents and Nancy notice, and half of Whitby ends up getting eaten.

Everybody assumes El is a boy or an escaped mental patient more than ever in the Victorian era. Slapping a hat and some skirts on her is the most effective disguise imaginable. (Her powers in a Dracula AU are probably more mesmeric in nature than telekinetic, but she can still ‘find’ people.)

Van Helsing may actually have been involved in MKUltra. It’s never quite made explicit, but he certainly knows a lot more about what’s going on than he ever fully reveals to the others.

I have no idea how Mike and the Party fit into this version of things, but there are definitely some Frog Brothers vampire hunting shenanigans involved.

Quincey Morris is still a yeehaw stereotype in 1983 Indiana. No one questions this.

#stranger things #dracula #i started to make a point about 'jonathan' and then realised: they both have jonathans #they also both have winona ryder if you stretch the definition of 'dracula' to include coppocula #i was doomed to care too much about this show from the very start #(...drac tries to pull some 'i have crossed oceans of time' bullshit on joyce and she hits him with an axe)#it feels very weird to tag this after having blogged about dracula for my entire blogging career but #dracula spoilers #for the daily crowd #what really gets me is that almost all the names still work between both settings (with a hundred years between them)#like 'dustin' might stand out in victorian england or 'abraham' in 1980s USA but otherwise?#anyway I've been stewing on this ever since i saw season 1 and the daily folks' posts have been really giving me some things to chew on

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mrbexwrites · 2 months

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Take Five

Tagged by the amazing @duckingwriting here. Thank you so much for the tag, as always ♥

Rules: find a line in your WIP (can be dialogue or not) that fits the parameters given by the person who tagged you. Then change one of the parameters and tag five or more people. Can be lines from multiple WIPs. If you can't find a line that fits, feel free to change the prompt.

Taking snippets from Memento Mori that fit the brief, and are below the cut:

Is about Light:

The light was blinding as I managed to clear the last of the dirt from my eyes. The red sand had filled my mouth, and it took me several minutes to cough it all up. My mouth was parched, and the blistering sun overhead didn’t help. Managing to stand, I took in the shallow grave that I had been buried in, the rock outcrop nearby, and the expanse of desert that rolled on for miles.

Shows self-doubt:

I sat on the bed, and held my face in my hands. Taking deep breaths, I tried to force down the panic that threatened to overwhelm me. I gulped in air as my ribs felt like they were trying to squeeze my lungs out of my chest. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. Everything is fine. You’re going to be okay,” I repeated to myself, gripping the edge of the bed, and rocking back and forth. “You’re safe. Everything is okay. Get it together.” Gradually, the panic subsided. I was able to breathe again, and I wiped the tears away from my cheeks. Ideally, I would have splashed some water on my face, but that was an amenity I was missing. I could tell that my face was puffy and blotchy, so the thought of walking out to the shower block again, with the risk of bumping into the soldiers who would instantly know that I had been crying, kept me where I was. It had been a long time since I had last had a panic attack.

Mentions a sense other than sight:

“How did you get in here?” Rolling over, I saw that the bedroom door had been nudged open. “You sneaky little…” I buried my head in his fur, smelling the outside world from him. I could hear Ted moving about downstairs, and the smell of cinnamon tempted me out of bed. Arty saw his opportunity, and moved into the warm space that I had just vacated. “Would you steal my grave just as quickly?” I scratched the top of his head, and he curled himself further into the pillows. “Cheeky wee sod.”

Shows Tension:

Sarah was waiting for me when I got home. I had just pulled my house keys out of my pocket when she stormed over to me, slamming her car door behind her. I turned at the noise, and her slap stung my face. “How could you?!” She was right in my face; spittle from her mouth landing on my face. “What do you mean?” “You told her what happened to Kyrie,” Sarah’s finger was shoved in my face. “I swear I didn’t tell her,” I held up my hands in supplication. “She already knew. I promise you, I never said anything.” “I hate you so much,” Sarah’s fury cooled, and she hissed at me through clenched teeth. “Rajan has a child protection hearing tomorrow, and my solicitor says I might not get custody of her now. Fuck you, Morgana! I wish you would just die and stay dead!”

Shows Sadness:

I could only stand, knee-deep in the water, staring, my hands limp by my side, as Sarah cradled Kyrie’s head in her lap. She brushed her hair from her face, smoothing her long dark curls. “Baby,” she whimpered. “Baby, it’s mummy. You’re okay now. I’m here. You’re alright. Everything is going to be alright! Come on, sweetie. Time to wake up. We’re going home now. You’re okay. I’m here. We all came for you. Everything is going to be alright. Kyrie?” Sarah blinked up at me, tears threatening to overflow from her wide-eyes. “She just needs a minute. She’ll be fine once the drugs wear off?” “Sar,” Pete spoke gently, reaching out to our sister. “No!” She snarled, the tears falling. “Morgana’s here. She’s done it before, and she can do it again.” Her eyes locked onto mine; her face was splattered with someone else’s blood, and her long hair was dishevelled, coming out of her ponytail. She must have taken a punch, as her lip was burst, and starting to swell. She had taken a beating just to rescue her daughter, and we had failed. I had failed.

Tagging @sarahlizziewrites @queen-tashie @at-thezenith @hippiewrites @cee-grice, and as always, open tag for anyone who wants to- please just tag me so that I can see your awesome snips :)

Your parameters are: In which there is darkness, A character cries, A character is holding something, Is set in the cold, Shows happiness

#cw: death #cw:death #morgana dodds #tag game

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talesofpassingtime · 4 months

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(“Of all the cranky things in this cranky world, it is the most cranky to my mind of all, that while we expect honour, courage, efficiency, from a doctor or a soldier as a matter of course, a solicitor or a house agent is not only permitted but expected to display nothing but a sort of greedy, greasy, obstructive, over-reaching imbecility—” etc.)

— H.G. Wells, The Food of the Gods

#booklr

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doobnnoob-tf2 · 2 years

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The base has at least one phone. Sure, nobody uses it for personal calls because they're paranoid they're not stupid, but it exists... This being the 1960s-70s... you KNOW it gets crank calls... and maybe MAKES some...?

How do the mercs react when answering a crank call? Who makes crank calls? Is anybody forbidden from answering/using the phone again?

Scout: he absolutely crank calls people when he gets bored. the others keeps trying to stop him but he somehow still finds time to do it. he’s not even good at it, the people in town know it’s him

Soldier: he was never allowed to use the phone to begin with

Pyro: they’re banned from using the phone after calling in to too many of those “dial-a-joke” commercials

Demoman: if it’s a crank call, he’ll give them ideas for better jokes and send them on their way. he’s also really good at stringing along solicitors to waste their time and make them not wanna call again

Heavy: he uses the phone a few times a year to call home. he’s the only one who doesn’t care if anyone else is listening in to his personal calls. after all, only two people on the base even know Russian so it’s not that big of a deal for him. other than that, he just chooses not to answer it

Engineer: the most normal when answering the phone. he’ll entertain crank calls before asking them to please not call back. very polite about it in general

Medic: he answered the phone ONE TIME with “city morgue; you kill them, we chill them”, and suddenly he’s not allowed near the phone again if it rings

Sniper: he never touches the phone on base, not even if it’s going off right next to him. he’ll make eye contact with it until it finishes ringing and then go back to what he’s doing

Spy: he was in the middle of watching something in the rec room when it started ringing. he answered when after the third ring it got on his nerves, let the kid on the other line start his joke for the crank call, and then went into vivid detail about how he was going to end his family’s entire bloodline before hanging up. it didn’t ring again for the rest of the night

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sharing one braincell

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denimbex1986 · 3 months

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'Where to start when profiling such a talented and charismatic actor as Andrew Scott? How about the fact that, aside from some youth theater workshop experience, this Dublin-born actor has had no official drama training? At 17, he was cast in a substantial role in an Irish film called Korea and, from there, joined the prestigious Abbey Theatre company in Dublin. His move to England in the late 80s corresponded with small parts in British, Irish, and American films and TV series and paved the way for his career to take off.

Among other projects, Andrew Scott appeared as an extra in Saving Private Ryan's Omaha Beach sequence, as well as several guest starring roles in British TV series like Garrow's Law and Foyle's War. All in all, he spent the first decade or so of his career building a solid body of work that would soon catapult him into pop culture stardom.

Let's take a look at some of Mr. Scott's iconic characters and lesser-known projects.

Sherlock (2010 – 2017)

Who can forget when Sherlock first revealed the character of Jim Moriarty to audiences in "The Great Game" episode? Scott played Mr. Holmes's famous nemesis as a deranged mastermind with a playful sing-song creepiness and a palpable presence of malice. He won the Best Supporting Actor TV BAFTA for that role in 2012.

The Bachelor Weekend aka The Stag (2013)

Some may have missed the delightful indie comedy, The Stag, about a group of friends who set out on a hiking excursion in the Irish countryside. Mr. Scott leads the ensemble as Davin, the groom's best man, in charge of their mild-mannered weekend. Their plans are wholly upended when The Machine (Peter McDonald), the bride's laddish brother, crashes the party. Lest you expect an Irish Hangover clone, emotional confrontations ensue between Davin and our groom, Fionnan (Hugh O'Conor), when unresolved issues from their past rise to the surface.

Pride (2014)

The feel-good, historical dramedy Pride depicts a group of London-based lesbian and gay activists who raised money to help families affected by the Welsh miners' strike in 1984. Scott plays Gethin, owner of a gay bookshop, who lends support to the group but hesitates to get actively involved due to his experiences as a gay youth coming out in Wales. He earned the best supporting actor trophy for his performance from the British Independent Film Awards.

Spectre (2015)

Once an actor is lauded for playing a baddie well, you have to expect the 007 franchise will come calling. In the 24th Bond film Spectre, Scott played Max Denbigh, aka C, Director-General of the Joint Security Service, an organization created by merging MI5 and MI6. While at first his disagreements with M (Ralph Fiennes) seem to be internal power struggles, it turns out C is a danger to democracy worldwide.

This Beautiful Fantastic (2016)

This Beautiful Fantastic is a quirky fairytale for adults and tells the story of Bella (Jessica Brown Findlay), a young woman who aspires to be a children's author but lacks the skills to navigate her out-of-control garden, let alone her nebulous career. Befriended by a kindly chef/housekeeper named Vernon (Scott), Bella begins to conquer her issues and blossom into the person she wishes to become. The film also stars Tom Wilkinson as Bella's gardening mentor.

Denial (2016)

A biographical legal drama, Denial depicts the libel case brought against American professor Deborah Lipstadt (Rachel Weisz) by Holocaust denier David Irving (Timothy Spall). Mr. Scott plays Anthony Julius, the lead solicitor of Deborah's legal team, who guides her through the UK justice system and their arduous path to obtaining justice.

1917 (2019)

In the innovative war drama 1917 (which starred a who's who of British talent), two English soldiers run a harrowing gauntlet through enemy territory to deliver a message that could save the lives of over 1500 troops. Along the way, the young men meet up with a handful of officers who help them on their journey, all played by respected British actors, including Messrs. Cumberbatch, Firth, Strong, and you guessed it – Scott. His portrayal of Lieutenant Leslie stands out a mile for its humor and hopelessness.

Present Laughing (2019)

Mr. Scott garnered theatrical acclaim for his performance as Garry Essendine in Present Laughing, a semi-autobiographical piece by Noel Coward performed at the Old Vic. Farcical in tone, the play depicts the harried life of a successful and self-obsessed light comedy actor facing an impending mid-life crisis. Andrew won the Laurence Olivier Award for Best Actor in a Leading Role in a Play.

Fleabag (2019)

Andrew Scott's name may have been synonymous with Moriarty until the world witnessed his portrayal of a character known only as "Hot Priest" in Fleabag. In the second season of Phoebe Waller-Bridge's award-winning dark comedy, Scott was introduced as the cleric who would be marrying Fleabag's dad and his fiancé. The couple has an immediate connection at the dinner table, and a trinity of friendship, spirituality and physical attraction ignite throughout the six-episode season. Scott's contribution was perfection!

This is only a brief sampling of Andrew Scott's work and impressive range...'

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ibrithir-was-here · 6 months

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Was thinking about Quincey Harker having to live through the horrors of WW1, and read some angsty stuff of Jonathan escaping the castle, and had a little plot bunny of time slipping, war traumatized Quincey stumbling into the wild woods of Transylvania, and finding vampire traumatized Jonathan , and the now the same-aged father and son have to survive together and escape back to civilization

Does Quincey even recognize his wreck of a father, who can barely remember his own name at this point? Is Jonathan traumatized more by his strange rescuer’s hints of eldritchness? (Kid was born from two almost vampires he’s definitely got some). They can try and figure that stuff out once they make it past the wolves…

Edit: Comic starts here

#my art #jonathan harker #quincey harker #Dracula #dracula daily #I know it’s over but only just and Quincey is in the last part so #time travel #jonmina #cuz Quincey’s their baby #quincey time travel au #the soldier and the solicitor

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nadinfinitum · 3 months

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* ◟ : 〔 gabrielle union , figuring it out + she&&they 〕 NADIA GRAY , some say you’re a FORTY TWO year old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both DECISIVE and DECEPTIVE , one can’t help but think of I DON'T FEEL LIKE DANCIN' by the scissor sisters when you walk by. are you still a the crow / CHIEF LEGAL OFFICER at the neon pariahs / ANUNNAKI PHARMACEUTICALS , even with your reputation as the SELLOUT? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and CLACKING HEELS ON GRANITE TILES ; IMMACULATE HOME - NO DECOR ; SIGNING ON THE DOTTED LINE , although we can’t help but think of VERNITA GREEN (kill bill) ; AMANDA WALLER (dc) ; ALLISON HARGREEVES (umbrella academy) whenever we see you down these rainy streets. ( mal , 23 , any , not unless someone wants it to be? , gmt , @lawlessfm . )

* EURYDICE WAS A HUNGRY YOUNG GIRL . . .

name // NADIA GRAY age // 42 pronouns // SHE&&THEY gender && orientations // FIGURING IT OUT affiliation // the neon pariahs [formerly] civilian occupation // CHIEF LEGAL OFFICER @ anunnaki pharmaceuticals cw // classist line of thinking

background //

if you were to ask director gray how she got to where she is now , she would say a chip on her shoulder and a lot of hard fucking work . she would not be entirely incorrect . who else but the crow could go from picking at dust-covered scraps of scraps to soaring across the skyline , the elite of the elite . who , other than she , would leave the only family they'd ever known , twice ? once , nadia gray was the crow . fixer , planner , soldier , spy . relentless collector of shiny and forgotten objects discarded through the desolate wastes . she wasn't always so cold && distant ; she was always cautious - always perched above - you can't assess an enemy when you're facing them head on , you know ? perception does not mean clear-vision . while her plans were clever , nadia could be rash and impulsive - brilliant , but incomplete . still , her fervour and devotion to the cause was one of the few things nobody doubted . it was after she came of age , pushing for one of her plans , someone gave in . a crow-riginal plan straight from the box , unaltered . she was old enough , she came up with all the initial plans anyway , why not ??? it was seven years before she was seen again . by a pariah , at least . nadia ████ - so different and strangely , the exact same . gaunt cheeks grown rosy && full . her love of philosophy replaced with an intense fascination with rules && regulation , a reckless glint grown focused and dangerous . and most of all , the girl . she stuck around three months before the raid . days later , she was on the news as one of the lead solicitors in the anunnaki in-house legal department . years after that ? CLO , baby ! no success without sacrifice . legally , anunnaki has never been more compliant . a few spills here in there - nothing a 2k fine won't fix . all companies have those . underground , whispers persisted of companies , clients , people disappearing when their cases against anunnaki were too strong . nadia gray , anunnaki pharmaceutical's personal attack dog .

wc //

familial [0/1] the daughter — you are the light of nadia's life , the apple of her eye , her raison d'etre — you believe that , right ? you may be a little closer to your dad , or maybe you just think it's a little weird that your mom has never mentioned her family to you . either way , a mother's love is unconditional , right ? [0/1] the ex — leaving this mostly empty so we could plot it out . probably the daughter's parent but a misunderstanding from any perspective there could be fun . it's complicated [0/1] the locket — you know something the pariah's don't . maybe you are the only person nadia trusts , in the world — she confided this to you with the genuine believe you'd protect this secret with your life . maybe you dug it up as blackmail , you little weasel . either way , you've got dirt , and she will do anything to keep it hidden . [established muns only please :)] [0/3] the advocates — it's your fault . or at least that's what you tell yourself , and maybe each other ? you wen't along with her stupid fucking plan , and worse ? you got the others to go along with it too . is nadia dead , diseased , or was she always just a sick fuck . [neon pariahs only!! i said 3 bc i have too many /1s but no presh to fill] other i literally want any dynamic u could bring me her jester puppet vendor and i'd be down pleaseeeee plot w me

. . . SEE , SHE WENT BEHIND THOSE DOORS AND SIGNED HER LIFE AWAY *

#lawlessintro #* nadia .

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scotianostra · 2 years

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On the 21st June 1813 the lawyer and poet W E Aytoun was born.

Born in Edinburgh, of a family of literary tastes his father, Roger Aytoun,was writer to the Signet, a private society of Scottish solicitors, dating back to 1594 and part of the College of Justice, the fierce Jacobitism and love of ballads of his mother, Joan Keir Aytoun, had a lasting influence upon Aytoun’s own political and literary preferences., which was to impact upon Aytoun’s own interests, and aid them in turn when he was preparing his Ballads of Scotland collection for publication.

Having tentatively followed his father into law, Aytoun was appointed Professor of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres at Edinburgh University in 1845. It was in this post that he excelled, and details of his lectures have led to him being declared ‘the first modern professor of English literature’. Prior to this appointment, his early works as a poet were the subject of inclusion in the renowned Blackwood’s Magazine, and he would go on to become an important contributor to the magazine in a number of guises. Indeed, his literary criticism exhibited much of the keen sense of parody that was the defining feature of his acclaimed dramatic verse, 'Firmilian’.

Working in a less comic mode, Aytoun produced the Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers, which remains one of his best known works, it wasn’t just Jacobitism in, Edinburgh After Flodden , a 15 verse classic, he brings the news to the Capital of our greatest defeat to the citizens of Edinburgh, in Charles Edward At Versailles, Aytoun puts himself into Bonnie Prince Charlie’s head as he is in his room on the Anniversary of Culloden thinking of the ghosts that haunt him…

“Must those scenes and sounds of terror Haunt me still by day and night?”

I’ve chosen, an extract from the telling of a hero killed at Killiecankie, The Burial-March of Dundee.

On the heights of Killiecrankie Yester-morn our army lay: Slowly rose the mist in columns From the river’s broken way; Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent, And the Pass was wrapped in gloom, When the clansmen rose together From their lair amidst the broom. Then we belted on our tartans, And our bonnets down we drew, And we felt our broadswords’ edges, And we proved them keen and true; And we prayed the prayer of soldiers, And we cried the gathering-cry, And we clasped the hands of kinsmen, And we swore to do or die! Then our leader rose before us On his war-horse black as night – Well the Cameronian rebels Knew that charger in the fight! – And a cry of exultation From the bearded warriors rose; For we loved the house of Claver’se, And we thought of good Montrose. But he raised his hand for silence – ‘Soldiers! I have sworn a vow : Ere the evening star shall glisten On Schehallion’s lofty brow, Either we shall rest in triumph, Or another of the Graemes Shall have died in battle-harness For his Country and King James! Think upon the Royal Martyr – Think of what his race endure – Think of him whom butchers murdered On the field of Magus Muir: – By his sacred blood I charge ye, By the ruined hearth and shrine – By the blighted hopes of Scotland, By your injuries and mine – Strike this day as if the anvil Lay beneath your blows the while, Be they covenanting traitors, Or the brood of false Argyle! Strike! And drive the trembling rebels Backwards o’er the stormy Forth; Let them tell their pale Convention How they fared within the North. Let them tell that Highland honour Is not to be bought nor sold, That we scorn their prince’s anger As we loathe his foreign gold. Strike! And when the fight is over, If ye look in vain for me, Where the dead are lying thickest, Search for him that was Dundee!’

The full poem can be read here...https://allpoetry.com/The-Burial-March-Of-Dundee

And more about him...https://allpoetry.com/William-Edmondstoune-Aytoun

#Scotland #scottish #Edinburgh #poet #schollar #history

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see-arcane · 1 year

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i really love your idea of Ghoul for Jonathan it's so good

Thank you! Honestly there are a ton of good monster/cryptid Jonathan ideas out there alongside the 'maybe he's a diet vampire?' theories. The ghoul thing (as I've rambled about before) is born of the whole 'suddenly taking on corpsey coloring' + 'the religious stuff doesn't hurt him and he seems to be All About killing the Count' = 'being generally more eerie and unsettling' = 'freaky creature that hunts the (un)dead and has no known issue with Christian paraphernalia' = that boy seems a bit ghoulish!

And while Dracula absolutely stole a drink the last night in the castle, I've never been 100% on that being a basis for Jonathan being any kind of pseudo vampire born of the Count's nibbling. It'd mean he was tethered to Dracula too, and for a longer period than Mina. But Dracula is shitting bricks enough to run from Jonathan rather than fight him with the kukri in hand. So he clearly suspects something is up with this young man that's worth worrying about. Even when Jonathan had scuttled down the side of the house and was giving chase entirely solo ahead of the others, Dracula never turned to fight him.

Sounds like the kind of thing a walking corpse would do if he knew a ghoul was chasing him with his giant cutlery out.

...But, in hindsight, I can also see a different kind of Semi-Vampire!Jonathan in action here. One that's even more worrisome than Dracula's implied brand of vampire, the Romanian strigoi. Say, the same kind of pallid, washed-out vampires we see in, "The Family of the Vourdalak," by Alexei Tolstoy.

A story which involves vampires who are immune to traditional vampire destruction methods like being staked through the heart, et cetera, and focus obsessively on 'collecting' their loved ones and mercilessly slaughtering anyone else.

As an aside, the eponymous vourdalak vampire (note, more appropriately spelled 'wurdulac', being based on the Russian vampire, but we'll use vourdalak for the gothic lit spelling), Gorcha, is introduced carrying the severed head of a man he was hunting in the mountains.

As another aside, it's implied at the climax that this breed of vampire is bound to their homes/physical location they were turned, meaning the whole village of these washed out, corpse-eyed undead are only a threat to those who enter their territory. Or those who threaten to take away their loved ones.

As another other aside, in, "Dracula's Guest," Stoker's unused prologue to the novel, we see Jonathan come across an undead village in Munich. One that pours out a hoard of vampires from their graves in a wild tide. He blacks out during this; then he wakes to Dracula the Wolf laying on top of him just outside the village's boundary. The story mentions the Wolf licking his throat and the soldiers who find Jonathan notice a mark on his neck.

Now, this could be Dracula taking a first sip long before Mr. Harker gets to the castle; a token for his troubles in keeping the solicitor safe. And maybe that's all it was.

Or else those vampires were not strigoi at all, but something a touch more territorial. Sturdier. Obsessive. Corpse-colored. Driven by love and loathing at their greatest extremes.

The vourdalaks of the short story are shown to need full death for their turning. Jonathan, if he was purely hypothetically bitten by such a vampire before his rescue, would not be at risk of full conversion until the day he died. Certainly not enough to make him an anchored undead bloodsucker. ...But perhaps enough to start suffering some noticeable changes once certain Dracula-shaped stimuli began setting things off.

Which presents the lovely idea of Dracula not just running from a group of vampire hunters, but a group including one very pissed off even worse vampire-in-the-making whose whole deal is 1) Being nigh indestructible and riddled with super strength, 2) Wholly unstoppable when it comes to killing anyone who isn't a loved one; especially someone who just did a great big no-no by biting his wife, and 3) Isn't undead enough to be hampered by the territory rule.

Whether Jonathan's a Semi-Ghoul or a Guaranteed-to-Fuck-You-Up brand of Semi-Vampire, Dracula screwed up regardless, because either way he's now got Gothic Horror Jason Voorhees coming after his head.

#Dracula: You know what maybe it was a bad idea to become this guy's villain origin story after all #jonathan harker #monster jonathan harker #ghoul #vourdalak #wurdulac #vampire jonathan theory #dracula #dracula daily

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tanalolo · 2 years

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Anyone find it funny that he says that in front of Arthur. Like both their wives were tired of their husbands. Lizzie even went to a legit solicitor but then it was Linda who left Arthur.

Like idk how Arthur needs to know why Tommy wants to kill Mosley so quickly,like he doesn't question Tommy...that Mosley was a Fascist is enough, so why say that in front of him.

This is a reach ik but did Tommy say that to troll Arthur lol💀? Like how his wife left but Tommy's didn't or idk why he says that in front of ARTHUR? Arthur's pretty much been a soldier kinda guy...I don't think he needs to know a reason why the plan's being changed ( or Tommy felt that he should know, cuz another murder,another burden...idk)

Mosley legit went and blew up Younger, that's pretty good reason to mess the plan. But,but,but...is it also coz he doesn't want to seem as a good person avenging the death of Ben that he gives a macho kinda reason of protecting his wife.

#ik his feelings towards lizzie change a lot during this season...but i feel younger's death is the main reason #i also know he told lizzie that mosley would be meat if he laid a hand on her #but he is like terribly practical and idk...younger seems like a legit reason honestly #arthur shelby #tommy shelby #lizzie shelby #peaky blinders #oswald mosley #s5

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stardancerluv · 1 year

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A Time to Fight and to Love

Part Twenty - Two

Summary: Closing of a chapter in life.

Warnings/Notes: Angst, Vision of possible death (makes reference to canon novel/movie end of Enjolras), Fluff, sadness of reader’s father’s passing, dated modes of thinking with marriage..woman’s role.

Long chapter. Two collages. There are a few more chapters lined up. 😥 I am having fun expanding on the character of Enjolras…hope you like it too! and after a bit there is some fluff. Oh! So yes…I veered more away from canon…and one of the pictures I used in my collage is not terribly accurate (might change) but it helps convey the setting.

Thank you for reading! ❤️s & reblogs are always welcome. Feedback is also very…very welcome!

Blinking, you stirred to the sun dancing on your closed eyes. Stretching and yawning, you finally opened your eyes.

Seeing Enjolras, you relaxed. He had fallen asleep, sitting at the end of the sofa. You allowed yourself to smile at the sight of him before you. Easily, you could tell by how his lashes rested on his cheeks and the softness of his face, he was deeply asleep.

Glancing around the room, it looked even more welcoming in the light of day. You could now see that it was a small library, sitting area. Shifting you were careful not to awake Enjolas. An eagerness came over you when you saw all of the books.

That’s when you spotted a plate of food. Your stomach churned in delight. There was food you had not laid your eyes on in months, if not longer. You glanced back at Enjolras and smiled. He had certainly raided his solicitor’s kitchen.

PausIng, resting your elbow on your thigh you sat there and looked him over. The warm light of the day that poured into the room, made his curls a richer looking brown. Seeing how they rested on his forehead made you smile. All of it made him even more impossibly handsome. It made your heart flutter. You resisted the urge to press a kiss to his cheek. He needed his rest.

There was much more you had learn about him but you were grateful that you were given the chance. Feeling cornered in that alleyway, watching him clang swords with that solider made you tremble. You could feel your throat tighten. At any moment, he could have been run through. Several more soldiers could have poured out of that doorway. You know they would have lined up the two of you….a cry of anguish came from the pit your stomach. You finally realized that you had biting your fist when a blossom of pain hit you.

“Angel, are you ok?” Enjolras’s gravely voice freed you from your visions.

Blinking, you opened your eyes and you found Enjolras was kneeling in front of you.

Your bottom lip trembled, shaking your head you let your sink to carpet. “No.” You managed weakly.

“Oh my ange, mon doux ange.” He whispered as you felt his arms wrapping his arms around.

You nestled close. “Enjolras, I had been so afraid. He could have run you through, they could have lined us up.” Your voice trailed off.

“But It didn’t happen Courfeyrac and I managed. We’re safe. I will always make sure you are safe.”

“Oh Enjolras.” You whimpered, as you nestled even closer; his arms around you tightened.

******

The trunk creaked when opened. Inwardly, your heart sank, none of your possessions were going with you. Enjolras knelt down beside it and carefully opened his pillowcase.

“In England, we will make new memories.”

You nodded. “We will start a new chapter in our lives.”

“Yes, yes we will.”

A ghost a smile touched his lips before he looked back into the pillowcase. He inhaled sharply.

“Is everything ok?” A pang of worry went through you. He gently took out your scarf.

“Oh, my scarf. With everything I forgot we tucked that in there.”

“Me too.”

******

You tucked your scarf into the trunk, which was now brimming with items. Enjolras looked everything over a final time before locking it. He slipped the key into one of inside pockets of his jacket.

You glanced at Olivier.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

Olivier smiled. “You made this young man happy. And that makes me happy.” He replied warmly.

Enjolras stood and dusted his hands off.

“Olivier, you out did yourself. That is more then I’ve allowed myself to have since living here on my own.”

“I know Julien. Someone did help me with that.”

“Oh?”

Olivier turned to you. “Let us go to my office.”

*****

His stomach churned, these last few months he had insisted she stay in the country. He had been terribly concerned for her safety. The months had passed quickly.

“Julien.”

He turned and watched as his mother began to close the distance, he met her halfway.

“Olivier, sent word.”

“I see.” He exhaled and shook his head. “It’s worse then ever.”

“He told me. But he didn’t want you to leave without me seeing you.”

“What if the carriage had been stopped? I don’t see or hear father. Who would have protected you.”

“There was no way, I was not going to say goodbye to my son.”

His mother’s eyes were piercing. It reminded him of the times he would try to hide from her the few times the foil or the saber landed.

He stepped closer. He relieved to see his mother but the thought of her risking her life to come here made his relief and annoyance mix. It made him ill.

He glanced away, he knew it was a mother thing, but she made him feel like a child.

“You risked alot.” He pressed his lips together, meeting her eyes.

She shrugged. “You are my only son.” She reached a gloved hand up to cup his cheek. “I couldn’t bear the thought of not saying goodbye, I love you.” She gave him a soft smile. “And I have to meet woman that made you change your vow.”

He placed his good hand over hers. “Thank you, mother. I love you too.”

That’s when she saw his wrapped hand. She opened and closed her mouth but didn’t say a word.

“So he told you that as well.”

She stepped back and met his eyes again.

“Yes.”

*******

“I want you to know, I swear I will do all in my power to reach out to your mama and Greta. If it continues to be safe enough, I will get them passage to you and Enjolras.”

“Juilien.”

The older man gave you a soft smile. “Yes, Juilien.”

There was a sharp knock on the door.

He smiled. “This is probably her. I assure you, she is a firm but kind woman. A lot of her is in Julien.”

“Ok.” You whisper and inhale. You were nervous.

“Ah dear woman,” You heard him greet her. “Yes, she is in here. I shall give the two of you some time.”

Glancing your way, he nodded.

At first you were going to have hold your hands in front but at the last moment you brought them behind you. The door closed with a whisper.

In your nervousness you kept looking at the wooden floor. You could practically feel the grains in the planks. The floor creaked as the woman came over.

“Oh my, do look up. I am not a tyrant.”

You did and there was no doubt where Enjolras got his charisma from. She was elegant, like your mama when father was still alive. So you could only imagine what his father was like. Though, hers made you nervous she had traveled through the night and still looked amazing.

Behind your back you wrung your hands. You would not fidget, even when you could practically feel as she looked you up and down. Never had you been more grateful you had worn your best dress for the wedding ceremony. It was elegant and beautiful, but was not too extravagant.

“So you are the lady that made my son break his vow?”

“Yes. I oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, speak my child.”

“He told me of a promise he made. I didn’t realize it had been a vow.”

“Ah, yes. He can be quiet at times when he should talk and then will talk lot when he doesn’t have to.” She smiled.

You nodded.

“Pardon my assumption but you don’t look like one fighting along side him. How did you two meet?”

“Your assumption was correct. We met by chance. I was out late one night getting medicine for my mama. Our paths crossed and he made sure to escort me the rest of the way to the physician and then back to my house.”

She smiled at that. “That pleases me to hear.” Her eyes were quite keen, Enjolras had her eyes, and they could be utterly unwavering. “But do you not have a brother or father that could have done that?”

You had to stop yourself from giggling, since he had said the same exact thing when you informed of your actions.

“I have no brother and my father died at sea.”

“Oh, I am sorry.”

*******

You watched as she removed a beautiful brooch that accented her dress. She pressed her lips together then looked at you.

“To be honest, I wish I could have grown to know you during a courtship between you and my son.” She sighed. “But these are difficult and hard times.”

You nodded.

“I fully expected when getting that telegram I was going to be bringing him home for his final rest.” Her eyes twinkled. “Instead here we are. You must be pretty special.”

You could see that her eyes had become shiny. A lump formed in your throat.

“But here he is, young and as handsome as ever, and with a lovely wife.”

She smiled.

You felt the warmth of a flush in your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“As I’m sure you are aware he is and can be incredibly charming,” She took a step closer to you. “it is how he kept from getting in trouble as a young boy. He did get into fair amount of scraps but he’d tell what happened and I wouldn’t have the heart to punish him.“

You nodded.

She sighed. “That is why in the end, I didn’t fight too hard when he told me of his vow for France.” She grimaced. “I also knew that in end he’d still leave. If I pushed too hard, I worried I’d never see or hear from him again.”

Her gloved thumb grazed the elegance of the broach. Glancing down, it reminded you of treasures your father would bring home from his trips.

“It is that stubborn side of his I wanted to avoid. Once his heart is set, he has rarely ever changed his mind.”

At least you couldn’t help but a small giggle. “I have seen that side of him too.”

“I am sure you have.” She joined you with a smile and nodded. Then all at once, the air felt heavy.

“Since, I trust my son I accept you as his wife.” Her eyes met yours. You could see the intensity they shared. “Promise, me if he blesses you with a daughter, you can give this to her or if you are blessed with a son; he can give it to woman he loves. Till then I give you this with my blessing.”

“I…I don’t know what to say.” Your voice faltered as she placed it your hands.

“You don’t need to breath a word. Just love him. And be a kind yet firm mother to the children that will surely bloom within you.”

“I promise.”

******

With a help of Olivier’s maid, she helped you dress. Now you were clad in your new day dress. Your wedding dress was safely stored away in the trunk along with your gift from Enjolras’s mother. It had been decided that something a little more functional would be best for the journey to England.

You tried to look at France as much as you could while the carriage bounced along the cobble stones. Beside you, Enjolras and Olivier were discussing some final arrangements.

You looked at the boat then back France. You were about to start a whole new life in England. Father, you thought to yourself, I’m on the cusp of an adventure. A new start. This was something you could have never ever imagined. But here you were.

Now on the way to ocean, you had become certain you’d never return. A part of it broke your heart. Anguish still sliced at you, that you’d never see mama and Greta again.

You were grateful that Olivier had given you some paper to write them both a letter explaining. They had to realize it was too dangerous to return.

You hoped that the doctor had not just been giving shallow boasts. He better scoop her up and usher her away to the country. Maybe after she would tell him, of you going to live in England would be enough for him to do that. And maybe that would give her a second chance at some happiness.

******

You smelled the ocean before it came into view. Simultaneously, you felt an uneasiness come over you and yet it also felt so familiar. It had been a scent growing up you had been used to. The scent clung to your father for weeks after he would return with his treasures. But it was also the ocean that led to him never coming home.

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